Word: suits
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Strapping in a well-tailored grey-blue suit, he swaggered into Cairo's canopied Republic Square. Just two years earlier, getting ready to nationalize the Suez Canal Co., he had yelled: "Americans, may you choke to death in your fury." Now the crowd of 100,000, assembled by trucks and bargain-rate excursion trains from all over Egypt, roared "Ya Gamal!" (O Gamal!). At length, the huge square stilled, and the President and his honor guests from Iraq waited briefly, during a reading from the Koran: "Those who oppose truth will die angry, but we will conquer." Then, mopping...
Where are the lissome, patrician blondes of yesteryear? From the piney suburbs of Oslo, the filing cabinets of Bremerhaven and the swimming pools of Stockholm they came. They brought their marimbas, their mothers and snug bathing suits, and they headed for the place where men waited with jeweled crowns, ermine robes, cameras and public-address systems-all to the glory of the cosmetics and bathing-suit industries. They were on their fair-haired way to glory as Miss Universe-or as starlets and models...
...cinematic best a shaggy lumpen proletarian helplessly meshed in the woof of modern life, Cinemillionaire Charlie Chaplin off the set could apparently out-guile even a Boston textile tycoon. According to a suit filed last week in Manhattan by a widow of a onetime business pal, Charlie was wont to have his royalties deposited at Manhattan's J. P. Morgan & Co., then transferred to a Swiss banker, who funneled the funds to a dummy corporation set up by Chaplin in currency-careless Tangier. Result: two years after Chaplin settled in Switzerland-and while the U.S. Government was vainly trying...
...first-prize winner in oils was a hot orange-and-red living-room interior by Gregorio Prestopino (TIME, Jan. 26, 1948). It seemed to suit the factory workers, ladies' clubbers and art fanciers of Youngstown (pop. 180,000); so many came on opening night that the rum for the punch bowl ran out. The painting and the other winners also pleased Joseph Green Butler III, the institute's greying, quiet, 57-year-old director...
...Vengeance is mine . . . saith the Lord") is almost cruelly pressed home. But most of what leads up to the point seems tedious digression, and Cowboy Peck gives the impression that he felt more comfortable in that grey flannel suit (TIME, April 23, 1956) than in ranch pants...