Word: commandingly
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Dates: during 1960-1960
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Some neutral-leaning countries wandered down more romantic trails. Burbled the Ceylon Observer: "A new generation, has now taken command. It is their destiny that the Nassers, the Nkrumahs, the Castros and the Kennedys will shape." All over Latin America, despite Kennedy's interventionist threat in Cuba (snapped Castro's official newspaper Revolución: "Four years of a rich illiterate"), his victory was hailed jubilantly as "a return to the policies of Franklin Roosevelt." In India and Malaya, neutralist Kennedy fans thought he really favors, as they do, recognition of Red China...
...William Jacobson started a bit slowly, as the major general, but by the end of his famous patter song he was the very model of a modern etcetera. He coped with Gilbertian poly-syllables without slowing or slurring, and his voice was adequate. Jacobson moves well, with a good command of the stylized posturing required of Savoyards, and does a delightful bed-time ballet...
...soccer ball around for a few minutes, though even this momentary fling lacked the old Kennedy flavor of sibling aggressiveness. The rest of the time Bobby kept close to his own home (a stone's throw away from Jack's), where he had set up a command post bristling with long-distance phone lines and news tickers...
...precincts all over the nation-who phoned in their findings direct. Bobby kept in touch with Democratic National Committee Chairman Henry ("Scoop") Jackson in Washington over a direct telephone line. He had another private line to Jack's house, but frequently Jack went over to the command post himself to look at the returns. When the news of the big Connecticut victory came over the wires. Jack uttered his favorite exclamation. "Fantastic!"', jumped for joy and (though he rarely smokes) lit a big black cigar, while his gleeful sister Eunice warbled When Irish Eyes Are Smiling...
Daphne's childhood is haunted by the go-away bird, a grey-crested lourie, or parrot, whose eponymous cry seems to her a command to leave the provincial, semisavage, secondhand and second-rate life of a British African colony for the authentic glories of historic England. Alas, her dreams are of a "land that was not, that is passed away"-the Rupert Brooke-ish Lubberland where the church clock stands at ten to 3, and there is honey still for tea, where life is a vision of white flannels on a vicarage lawn, and the Guard is always being...