Word: swart
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Across the table from Baron Aloisi were immaculate Capt. Anthony Eden, white hope of the British Foreign Office, and swart Pierre Laval, Foreign Minister of France. Britain's Lord Privy Seal, normally the most suave of diplomats, had just recovered from a heart attack. Word had come from London that important Cabinet changes were imminent (see p. 19). With luck, within a fortnight, Captain Eden might find himself Foreign Minister of Great Britain. Minister Laval had scarcely had a good night's sleep for a month. The clatter of railway wheels rang ceaselessly in his ears...
...hundred and fifty Manhattan bankers, businessmen, editors and miscellaneous bigwigs had fun initiating New York's short, swart Mayor Fiorello Henry LaGuardia into the Circus Saints & Sinners, a club whose underlying purpose is to fit out a home for retired circus performers. Under a tent in the Hotel Gotham, Marionettist Tony Sarg set a small gilt chair in a five-foot sawdust ring, set Mayor LaGuardia on the chair. Cried Ringmaster Sarg: "Do you think he has enough hair to be Mayor?" Chorused the Saints & Sinners: "No." Ringmaster Sarg clapped a grey wig on the Mayor, added the fur trimmed...
This week tall, swart Bill Powell, charged with shipping 26 duck to Philadelphia, went on trial in the same court. Verdict: six months in jail, $500 fine...
...days later Beals's uncertainty shone even more brightly in an interview with swart, little Strong Man Fulgencio Batista. "I can never become President," said this onetime Cuban Army sergeant. "The people cannot be deprived of their politics. But if we were to hold elections soon they could not beimpartial. Such elections would merely appear to be a maneuver to defraud the will of the people. I believe in the fullest democracy, but at times it is out of the question. I do not believe in dictatorship, yet some peoples need good dictatorship. . . . We must buy back some...
Unperturbed by all this furor, a swart, mop-haired, black-toothed man in morning coat and badly-adjusted tie motored last week to the White House Executive Offices. Though he looked like a Mexican bandit, he was in fact Dr. Francisco Castillo Najera, soldier, surgeon, poet, linguist, bon vivant, art collector, idol of Geneva newshawks, statesman and diplomat. Inside the office he found President Roosevelt smilingly erect, heard the State Department's sleek Chief of Protocol James Clement ("Jimmy") Dunn intone: "The Mexican Ambassador...