Word: sort
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Point of Agreement. Just six days before, also in San Diego, the opposition candidate, an entirely different sort of man, had opened an entirely different sort of campaign. William Fife Knowland came not to be liked but to demand respect. Outside San Diego's Russ Auditorium, big, dead-serious Bill Knowland seemed incongruous against the stock California political backdrop-a marimba band, Japanese girls, a flame swallower in vaquero costume. Knowland moved carefully among some 300 people, here pausing for a solemn word, there posing with a tight grin for a photograph, all the while working toward the speaker...
Weighty Burden. For a fellow who just wants to be liked, then. Candidate Pat Brown has awesome political responsibilities. In this as in countless other ways, he is an unlikely sort to carry such a burden. California Democrats look to Brown to lead them to their greatest victory in history, yet many of those same Democrats distrust him as an ex-Republican who still rides the coattails of Republican heroes. "I want to make it very clear," said Brown last week, "that I intend to guide our state government in the great tradition of Earl Warren and Hiram Johnson...
...done told you?" said a minor actor rehearsing for Sam Goldwyn's Porgy and Bess movie, and there was thunder on Catfish Row. That sort of so-called Negro dialect, said Actress Pearl (Bess) Bailey, is "undignified and unnatural. I don't care if it's Negro or Italian or Greek or French; it's in bad taste." Producer Goldwyn and Director Otto Preminger willingly told the Negro performers to leave out anything they did not like. Question: Will one of the show's most famed songs be retitled It Is Not Necessarily...
...question was left unanswered. Fact is that in 13 years, the Miss America Pageant has turned from a leering pressagent's dream into a sort of solemn, deep-breathing Rorschach test, as stickily wholesome as Atlantic City's famed saltwater taffy. The girls are the chosen mascots of local civic and service clubs, are told to keep their eyes not on glamour but on more than $150,000 worth of scholarships contributed by business firms, and are constantly surrounded by ulcerescent chaperons, without whom they may not speak to any man, "including male members of their own families...
Then there is serious little Gregg. She raids her ex-boy-friend's garbage can. broods lovingly over pieced-out evidence of his new romance. A different sort is sensible, prim-and-proper Caroline; she likes older men. Halfway through the book she sights one of them, a gin-rickety, fascinatingly debauched religion editor: "Caroline could not help remembering the feelings she had had about him at the other party . . . and as his eyes met hers she realized he was thinking about it too. For an instant the spark arose between them again, and her heart began to pound...