Word: spedding
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When the first edition of the Denver Post reached Editorial Page Editor Mort Stern's desk one day last week, Stern opened it to the editorial page. After one horrified look, he sped a Stern command to the composing room. Two hours later, when the Post's second edition hit the streets, the work of Editorial Cartoonist Paul Conrad was gone...
...rain pelted a Chrysler sedan racing through the night toward Lincoln on U.S. 6, a straight and lonely stretch of Nebraska blacktop. The elephantine semitrailers, lumbering west, flung blobs of muddy film at the windshield as the car sped past them, slowing the metronome wipers to largo tempo. Inside, the three people huddled together in the front seat were as melancholy as the weather and the night. Bob Conrad, Nebraska's Democratic senatorial nominee, hunched over the wheel, peering grimly into the darkness. Beside him, pretty, black-haired Helen Abdouch, executive secretary...
Cheers & Merriment. As the President arrived at New York's Idlewild Airport and sped into Manhattan in his bubble-topped Lincoln, New Yorkers-125,000 of them-lined the streets to cheer him and to wave placards (WE ARE COUNTING ON YOU, IKE) as if he were a fighter climbing into the ring. Even the customary show of political partisanship was gone; Democratic Mayor Robert Wagner, who had never seen fit to greet the President on past visits, rode into town with...
...tall, broad-shouldered candidate sped through the prosperous North Shore suburbs of Chicago one evening last week, waving from the back seat of a black convertible, clusters of people on the sidewalks cheered, shouted, waved flares and sparklers. The motorcade stretched three blocks as it rolled through Evanston's Fountain Square, on through Wilmette's main crossroads corner. Jammed into the parking lot at the Old Orchard shopping center in Skokie was a crowd of more than 20,000, gathered in caravans, some of which had come from neighboring southern Wisconsin. Scattered through the crowd were homemade signs...
From the moment she first sped down the track of Rome's Olympic Stadium, there was no doubt that she was the fastest woman the world had ever seen. But that was only part of the appeal of the shy, 20-year-old Negro girl from Clarksville, Tenn. In a field of female endeavor in which the greatest stars have often been characterized by overdeveloped muscles and underdeveloped glands, Wilma ("Skeeter") Rudolph had long, lissome legs and a pert charm that caused an admiring Italian press to dub her "the Black Pearl." Last week Wilma Rudolph became the only...