Word: blondes
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...athletic room-mate all sorts of ski equipment can be produced, and for the man who wants only four A's for Christmas, you might make a slight gesture in the form of an alarm clock. The guy who is looking for a blond may find that he will cut a much gayer figure in a nylon shirt, a suede or plaid vest and a new hat. All this apparel is filling up a lot of women's Christmas lists...
...spent money like a sailor just ashore. With an expense account of about $100,000 a year, he was the town's most avid check-snatcher and tipper, its most unflagging patron of flower shops and buyer of sparkling burgundy (which he called "bubble ink"). His pinkish-blond hair was as much a trademark as his open-throat shirt, his fetish against wearing hats, ties or overcoats. "I'm a publicity hound," he told Cleveland sportwriters when he took over the Indians. And ex-Marine Bill Veeck, who had lost a leg as a result of combat injuries...
Strapping (6 ft. 4 in.), blue-eyed, blond Konstantin Rokossovsky, 52, a hard-hitting Red army field commander in World War II, had in point of fact been born in Poland. His native city, however, was not Warsaw, but the small town of Slovuta, in Volhynia, a province which for centuries has been alternately Polish and Russian. Far from being a child of the working class, he was reared at the aristocratic Nicholas Officers' School in St. Petersburg. In World War II he commanded the armies that relieved Stalingrad, crossing the Don to close a ring around the Nazis...
...elders and the parish priest were solemnly deciding who should play the 16 major roles of the 300-year-old Passion Play, scheduled to begin its first season in 16 years next May 21. As each part was filled, the town crier-a young man with shoulder-length blond hair-wrote the names on a blackboard for the people...
...Blond, trumpet-lunged North Carolinian William Franklin Graham Jr., a Southern Baptist minister who is also president of the Northwestern Schools in Minneapolis, dominates his huge audience from the moment he strides onstage to the strains of Send the Great Revival in My Soul. His lapel microphone which gives added volume to his deep, cavernous voice, allows him to pace the platform as he talks, rising to his toes to drive home a point, clenching his fists, stabbing his finger at the sky and straining to get his words to the furthermost corners of the tent...