Word: taxies
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Word Message. In his $300-a-month Fairfax Hotel suite, John McClellan awakens daily at 7, breakfasts on bacon and eggs, glances at the morning papers, and by 8 o'clock is on his way to the Senate Office Building in a taxi. (He has rarely driven since the time he started through a red light while his mind was preoccupied with work.) A mass of business is already waiting: more than 300 letters a day, many of them with valuable tips about the investigation; conferences with Committee Counsel Robert Kennedy, who keeps McClellan thoroughly briefed on latest developments...
Hellion in Paradise. Zoologist Gerald Durrell was ten years old in 1934 when his family settled on the Ionian resort island of Corfu for what proved to be a five-year stay. Fending off a swarm of taxi drivers, the Durrells met their own personal "Zorba the Greek" when a swarthy islander named Spiro shouted to the beleaguered family, "Hoy! Whys donts you have someones who can talks your own language?" Neither Spiro nor the local hotel guide could quite grasp certain Anglo-Saxon eccentricities ("But Madame, what for you want a bathroom? Have...
...Irish-American teamster in Local 682 in St. Louis. In Local 524 in Yakima, Wash., the teamsters did just that, stringing up an effigy of Beck and setting it afire with cigarette lighters. "Beck's been talking about us paying for his defense fund," growled a Seattle taxi driver. "We been hanging around the cab stands all day trying to figure out how to slip some dough to the prosecution." Said a truck driver in Portland, Ore.: "It's high time that somebody finds out what's happening to the $5.50 a month I shell...
...Broadway may have weakened Author Bissell's resistance to the charms of the old ladies from Dubuque. He now lives just up the road a piece from Times Square in Exurbia, Connecticut, with his wife and four children, gets along with two station wagons and an old taxi he picked up in London, and resolutely rights off the old nostalgia for his two Mississippi River houseboats. No matter how many agents get pieces of Dick Bissell, there will probably always be one piece of him that is pure Midwest...
...Manhattan taxi driver recently mistook Norman Vincent Peale for a physician. After grumping about the weather and shrugging off the Rev. Dr. Peak's cheery rejoinders ("Good old rain"), the cabby turned to state his symptoms: "Say doc, I've got some pains in my back. I feel terrible." As Author Peale tells it. he replied: "Although I'm not accustomed to practicing in taxicabs, I think you have psycho-sclerosis...