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Training for Thinkers. For his students, it was not always a pleasant experience. Morris Cohen seldom answered questions; he preferred to ask them. Like a modern Socrates ("though ... I lacked, except on rare occasions of good health, the courtesy of Socrates"), he wanted to whisk away his students' prejudices. Unlike Socrates, he felt that if their convictions vanished too, there was little he could do about it. He supplied no new doctrines to take the place of the ones he destroyed, gave his students no Cohen-made faith. His job as he saw it was to train "thinkers rather...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Education: Decide as You Go | 3/7/1949 | See Source »

...night, the smugglers' boats crept into the mangrove-fringed inlets of Florida's Keys, their running lights doused, their engines throttled down to a throaty chuckle. Among the trees a car waited, ready to whisk the refugees northward through Miami. The smugglers' boats are mostly goletas-small, dirty fishing smacks and schooners used in the coconut and banana trade. Often, the goleta will rendezvous with a faster U.S. boat for the run to the Florida coast. Masters of bigger boats prefer to land their cargoes further up the coast, as far north as Norfolk, to elude...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: IMMIGRATION: Smugglers' Trove | 2/14/1949 | See Source »

...know "Lib" Bailey, the nation's most eminent horticulturist, as an erect, white-haired man whom they used to see dragging strange bushes and branches across the campus to his laboratory, where he puttered and purred over them. Sometimes he would grab a visitor by the arm and whisk him off to his garden. There, showing off the blooms and blossoms he had collected from lonely hillsides and jungles all over the world, he would say that his field was the true internationalism: "My pinks speak all languages alike...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Education: Absent Guest of Honor | 3/29/1948 | See Source »

Trains were crowded, but washroom spittoons were polished like gold again, and porters waved their whisk brooms politely over departing passengers. The country which rushed by outside the windows had an amazing look of vigor and opulence; new automobiles gleamed on highways, new houses stood expensively in muddy yards. At dusk the homing passenger could glimpse the never-ending glimmer of colored Christmas lights in streets, stores and farmhouses. From the air, the U.S. seemed even richer; there was a look of treasure in the jeweled electric glitter of its cities seen by night...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: THE PEOPLE: Christmas, 1947 | 12/29/1947 | See Source »

...likes to give big parties in a bar whose walls are sheathed in gleaming tarpon scales. Murchison takes off his tie, rolls up his sleeves, and invites his guests to do likewise. He keeps a six-seater converted C-47 (complete with bar, three couches and card table) to whisk him back & forth from his 120,000-acre Mexican ranch, where he goes to hunt and fish. And his way of announcing his arrival at home is to bellow to his houseman: "Start the juleps rolling...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The 60-Day Man | 7/21/1947 | See Source »

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