Word: viewing
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...people this week it was the time of the Hanami (flower viewing). The Japanese left their wretched, paper-thin houses and their half-ruined factories; chattering with delight, they roamed across the broad lawns of their public gardens to view the flowers of spring. City folk flocked to the beaches. Up & down the jagged, black-sanded coast, fishermen pushed off their squat wooden boats. Farmers tirelessly slushed through their rice fields as they had always done...
Claire Chennault, wartime skipper of the Flying Tigers, back home with his Chinese bride and three-month-old daughter for a rest and a couple of congressional hearings on China, took a fighter's view of the whole situation: "I have seen it a lot worse for us in China and the Pacific than even it is now, and I have seen us turn it around and win . . . There are millions and millions of Chinese who don't like Communism and will fight...
Deans v. Consensus. But in two years, even Stoke was not able to reform everybody. Some deans still take a dim view of his new "administration by consensus," call it "administration by passing the buck." Governor Long backed a constitutional amendment last November to bring the L.S.U. Board of Supervisors under his thumb. The amendment lost, but Louisiana recently began to hear, and read in newspaper columns, that the Supervisors themselves were set to bounce Harold Stoke. Then, went the story, L.S.U. might get a Louisiana man again as its president...
Most raucous needier was a zoot-suited, jobless young Puerto Rican named Fred Boysen, who had somehow wangled a $2.50 box seat. Boysen's view, as he expressed it later, is that "the fun of baseball" is kibitzing; a big-league manager should be able to take it. He dished it out. He spat in Durocher's direction and said: "Here, Leo, this is for you." As five hapless Giant pitchers were mauled, he cried at the Giant boss: "Why don't you go in and pitch yourself, you monkey?" Leo also said he heard Fan Boysen...
...Knees. Bérard often spoke a little wistfully of the paintings he was doing or of others he had in mind, but the few finished pictures he did produce were apt to be dim, moody echoes of the Renaissance masters. In view of all this, many an art critic wondered if he could be considered a true painter at all. When Novelist Gertrude Stein once put that harsh question to him, Berard fell on his knees protesting, "Yes, oh, yes!" Last week, a Manhattan gallery staged a posthumous show of his portraits that helped to tip the decision...