Word: washingly
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Mayakovsky Theater. A few days later, readers of the Evening Moscow knew why. "Dear Comrade Editor," Samoilov wrote remorsefully. "I was not sober for the evening performance. My delinquency defames the title of Soviet actor." In the future, moaned Samoilov, who holds three Stalin Prizes, "I will wash out this stain with my work...
Most of the West Coast catch will still end up as fish meal, at least for the time being. A company called Pacific Protein Inc. is spending $1,000,000 to build a processing plant at Aberdeen, Wash., for that purpose. Pacific Protein President John Stevens would like eventually to use hake in making fish-protein concentrate, an almost tasteless powder of reputedly wondrous nutritional value. A half ounce of FPC, as it is called, is said to be capable of providing a child with his daily need for animal protein at a fraction of a cent...
Keeping Clean. Intelligence men's intrigues wash cleaner in To Trap a Spy and The Spy with My Face. Originally designed for home use, these television retreads are expanded versions of two episodes from MGM's The Man from U.N.C.L.E. series (the seams still show). In Face, Napoleon Solo (Robert Vaughn) seduces Thrush Agent Senta Berger somewhat more explicitly than he could before, when he had to take time out for commercials. In Trap, Luciana Paluzzi adds sex appeal until gunfire spoils her game, but the story really concerns an ordinary housewife (Patricia Crowley) who helps Solo foil...
...foster home, joined the Navy at 17, later quit college to become a newspaper reporter in Alaska and the state of Washington. In 1957 Painter married a fellow Anchorage reporter, Jeanne Bannister, despite Jeanne's parents' disapproval, and the couple lived and wrote together happily in Pullman, Wash. One day in 1962, while Painter stayed home tending Mark, his wife drove their daughter to nursery school; the car skidded on an icy road and Jeanne and the little girl were killed in a head-on crash...
...baggage-claim room at the Boston terminal, Rubinstein perked an ear to the oozy wash of Muzak and began to shuffle across the floor with an imaginary partner. When a leggy young blonde entered, he shot an appraising eye at her. "Hmm, not bad," he murmured. "Shall I ask her to dance? No, she's too serious." And on he waltzed...