Word: slim
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Coolly, Joyce addressed the ball, tapped it toward the cup-and saw it run wide. A quick grin burst across the blonde's broad face. "Oh, boy," she sighed, "that was agony!" By the slim margin of a single stroke-the dinky putt that Joyce Ziske missed-beaming, Carolina-born Betsy Rawls, 32, had won her fourth U.S. Women's Open, adding 1960 to her victories in 1951, 1953 and 1957. No woman golfer, not even the incomparable Babe Didrikson Zaharias,* had done that before...
...speeches had finally paid out through the rostrum's idiot box, ratings indicated that nearly twice as many people had watched NBC as CBS, with ABC far out of the running. CBS, on the defensive in its long-held top position in TV news, had at least one slim consolation: it scored an exclusive interview with the expectant Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy on a Cape Cod lawn 3,000 miles from the gavel...
...sogne? a realta? and shortly made his exit. As the orchestra launched into the music of the act's second scene, the audience began chanting an unfamiliar name: "Tibbett! Tibbett! Tib-bett!" Conductor Tullio Serafin waved his orchestra to silence and through the gold curtain stepped a slim young man with a putty-shaped nose to acknowledge an ovation that stopped the opera for 20 minutes...
...jumps, buttonholing Idaho delegates, doing whatever is required of him. And, when the campaign script calls for their special talents, there are the glamorous Kennedy sisters: tawny-haired Eunice Kennedy Shriver, 38; leggy Patricia Kennedy Lawford, 36, wife of the movie star; and Jean Kennedy Smith, 32, the slim, tanned baby sister of the family. Together and separately, the sisters knock on doors, preside over kaffeeklatsches, and shed their charm at political banquets, receptions and rallies. And finally, there is Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy, 69, who willingly pitches in (sometimes in French, if the occasion calls for it) whenever her hard...
...hurried sentence. Theodore Bernstein looked away while his wife entered wholeheartedly into a love affair with the 25-year-old Wolfe, set him up in a studio on Manhattan's Eighth Street, cooked gourmet meals for him while he wrote, helped add to the slim support he was getting from his mother and from his teaching job at New York University, and above all gave him the sort of encouragement he needed to produce Look Homeward, Angel. Wolfe was an oppressive lover. He was sickly jealous, perhaps fearful that he might be counter-cuckolded by Bernstein, and so boorish...