Word: yellowing
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Convair plant at San Diego one day last December, a mysterious piece of hardware was carefully cantilevered down from a vertical position inside a closely guarded seven-story shed. Draped in a white canvas shroud, lashed to a yellow, tubular steel trailer, the top-secret cargo was hauled out onto U.S. Highway 80 to begin a 2,500-mile trip across the southern U.S. As it rolled over the mountains, across the plains and into the towns, it looked like a wrapped-up oil tank. Nothing betrayed the presence of the most monstrous potential new weapon in the U.S. arsenal...
Gangly male dancers in khaki and open shirts and lithe young girls in flower prints and leotards lounged in motley array on a dirty yellow staircase. Two carpenters surveyed a set of flimsy stairs for the opening production number, The Prince Is Giving a Ball. "It'll never hold the way it is," said one. "Better put a brace under it." Through ganglia of cables down from a remote eyrie came the cry of an electrician: "The damn lights haven't any numbers on them." A large reflector crashed to the floor. "It's the only...
...hour show." Said Edith (Daisy Mae) Adams, the Fairy Godmother: "Why, Ed Sullivan has just one full rehearsal and you NEVER know-where you are." She twirled a baton-"Gotta get in shape with my magic wand" -then skipped off to sing her one number, Impossible ("for a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage, for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in marriage...
...dinner Dulles would invite his one Key West assistant, John Hanes Jr., 32, and his wife Lucy, and perhaps his doctor, to his quarters for cocktails (a rye on the rocks for the Secretary), and there the Middle East would dominate the conversation. One day Dulles got out his yellow scratchpad and pencil and wrote out a draft of what he called "A United States Declaration on the Middle East." But his thoughts had not jelled, and he tore up the declaration without having it typed...
...talk about Kandinsky. A brittle octogenarian with startlingly candid eyes and a gentle face, Gabriele still lives in the Russenhaus. The wooden staircase was decorated long ago by the man whose pictures she refuses to look at, and every time she passes, her eyes fall upon his jolly yellow and violet riders galloping gaily among the stylized flowers...