#Julie Nixon Eisenhower
Text
Alfred and Alma Hitchcock chat with First Lady Pat Nixon and her daughter Julie Nixon Eisenhower circa 1969
0 notes
Text
Richard Nixon's Avocado Salad
The Saturday Evening Post Family Cookbook, Ed. Julie Nixon Eisenhower, Frederic A. Birmingham. Curtis Publishing Company (1975).
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Wish You Love | Part Four
I Wish You Love Masterlist
Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader
The end of the war feels so near and yet still so far off. Questions of the future and feelings of impatience plague you and Lewis equally.
Warnings: Canon typical violence, Angst, Class Divide, Infidelity, Dishonesty, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.
Author's Note: Surprise (as in no surprise whatsoever), this is not the final part of this series. There is one more part, because Bee does not know how to be brief. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.
Word Count: 4378
--------------------------
Perhaps it was the English in you, but no matter how deliriously giddy you felt at the hopeful tone of Captain Nixon’s reply, you still found it necessary to make things absolutely clear. To add a strong dose of realism and seek confirmation of things in concrete terms. Settling in at the kitchen table once dinner had been cleaned up after and your father was properly ensconced in his favourite chair, listening to the wireless, you pulled out your writing supplies and took a direction approach.
Lewis, in all his Americanness, was having none of it. His response arrived promptly, two weeks later.
Four long months passed. Eight letters more letters crossed the Channel, four apiece. Spring blossomed before wilting into heat of summer. Germany surrendered. The Japanese held on until mid-August. You managed to assemble an untold number of shells without injury, though the skin of your face and hands as well as the halo of hair around your face became tinged as yellow as your fellow canary girls.
Word came from Austria that Johnny was on his way home, after six long years away. The universe works in mysterious ways, leading both of the men you cared for most in all the world to Austria to manage the occupation after Germany’s surrender. Lewis had kept you up to date on the dissolution of his marriage – the loss of his treasured dog Edgar, as well as his house, and custody of his son. You did your best to remain reassuring and supportive in your letters, reminding him of the untold potential of your future together.
Your immediate future, however, was somewhat more precarious. With so many men returning home from the war, employment was in high demand and the expectation was for women to return to the roles they had occupied before 1939 – where they ‘belonged.’ You were grateful you had lived well within your means, accumulating sufficient savings to see you through the end of your job at the factory in July and the seemingly endless search for new work since. With the effects of TNT still tainting your appearance, work in a shop was out of the question – such establishments immediately turning their noses up at you.
You had picked up a few clients as a charwoman, but unless you found many more, and quick, things were going to become very difficult indeed. Making your way home one midday at the end of August, you smoothed a hand over your hair, feeling positively overheated and unkempt after a particularly demanding morning scrubbing Mr. and Mrs. Danes house. As you rounded the corner of the lane you’d lived on most of your life, your feet stuttered to a stop at sight of the figure leaning against the front of the building of flats, sharing a cigarette with your father.
Neither of them had spotted you yet, and you swallowed roughly as your eyes drank in the dashing appearance of Captain Lewis Nixon in his dress uniform, sporting the short cut Eisenhower jacket that showed off his trim waist and long legs. You could not have felt more drab in your worn work dress, wishing desperately you could dash inside and freshen up but there was nothing for it now as he had lifted his eyes. You could see his smile from half a block away as he began striding towards you confidently, flicking his cigarette into the street as he rapidly closed the distance.
With small, hopefully furtive, movements you did your best to tidy your hair and the fall of your dress against your body.
“Darling.” Lewis smiled warmly, capturing your hands, ceasing your fretting as his long fingers enveloped yours. His eyes raked over your face with an expression that carried nothing but wonder.
If you had felt warm before, hearing the term of endearment he’d begun to use in his letters fall from his lips was akin to walking on the surface of the sun. “Lewis.” You breathed shakily, swallowing tightly at the brilliant grin he bestowed upon you in response as his hands squeezed yours tightly.
“Christ, you are a wonder to behold.” He murmured stepping closer and you raised an eyebrow skeptically as you very much felt otherwise. “No, I insist.” One broad hand slid to your waist, your heart racing as you found your own feet shuffling closer, your tongue darted out to wet your lips nervously. His eyes dropped to focus on your mouth a moment before his adam’s apple bobbed rapidly. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He warned you softly, gripping your waist with both hands now as he pulled you closer still.
The most you could manage in response was a rapid nod before his mouth was upon yours, lips gentle at first, moving slowly before they became insistent and eager. Fingers gripping at his biceps, curling into the fabric of his jacket, you tilted your head back in surrender, mouth pliant beneath his. He tasted of tobacco, smelled of his intoxicating aftershave and something that was uniquely Lewis. You could only hope there was something to recommend you in that moment and were heartened as he pulled you somehow even tighter to him, eliminating the last millimetres of space between your bodies.
Lewis’s lips pulled back from yours slowly, allowing you to suck in a shuddering breath as he pressed his face to your hair, an action he’d often described in his letters, realized at last. “Darling…” He whispered once more, tenderly, and you slid your arms around his shoulders to hold him fully.
“Welcome back, Lewis.” You sighed, finally allowing relief to wash over you.
“Thank you.” His lips brushed against your temple before he straightened slowly, fingers tracing along your jaw tenderly. “Your father tells me you should have some time to spend with me this afternoon?”
You tried not to frown at the reminder of all the free time you had on your hands, the economic implications thereof, and nodded gently. “I would like that very much, but whether you admit it or not I look a fright. Please let me change and freshen up?”
“You’re right, I’ll never admit it, because it’ll never be true.” He smirked and stole one last kiss before tucking your arm into his, leading you back towards your flat.
You noted your father had retreated inside to give you some privacy – as much privacy as one could be afforded in the middle of the street, of course, but you appreciated the thought, nonetheless. You stopped on the threshold and turned to Lewis quickly. “It’s no Lydiard House, I warn you.”
“Thank god.” He smiled reassuringly, hand settling on your lower back, a flock of butterflies fluttering erratically in your abdomen as you led him inside your humble home where you father was happily reading the newspaper.
“Will you two be all right if I take a moment to change?” You asked your father and he smirked.
“We’ve been alright for the past two hours, sweet pea, off you pop.” He shooed you towards the bedroom where your meagre wardrobe was stored and you glanced at Lewis, startled to learn he’d been waiting for you that long.
“Take your time.” He nodded, settling onto the worn sofa easily.
The world seemed quite off-kilter for a moment, Lewis occupying a space so separate from that in which you had known him, and yet how many hours had you spent thinking of him while sitting on that very sofa? Smiling slowly as everything seemed to slide into its new place of belonging, you stepped into the bedroom to pull one of your nicer dresses from the closet you shared with your father. Taking it to the bathroom, you freshened up and tamed your hair, feeling much better armed to face to world as you emerged, stowing your work clothes into the hamper before you rejoined them in the sitting room.
Lewis immediately rose to his feet on your return, a shy smile tugging at your lips fondly as your father looked up from his paper.
“I do hope the pair of you are going to spend your afternoon out in the sunshine and not in here with this old bore.” His eyes twinkled in amusement. “And don’t even bother telling me you’ll be home for dinner, I’m perfectly capable of eating at the pub.”
You closed your mouth quickly, your father killing that thought before you could voice it. Grabbing your handbag, you looked up as Lewis spoke.
“I was hoping to take both of you out to dinner tomorrow night, sir?” He offered hopefully.
“That would be very generous of you, thank you. Now, on your bike.” Your father snapped his paper back into place to hide his growing grin and Lewis laced your fingers together before leading you outside, sliding his garrison cap back onto his luscious hair.
“How did you manage to get over here? I thought they were shipping you back to New York?” You asked as you closed the door behind you.
“I have a few days and then the boat leaves from Marseille. I couldn’t leave before seeing you.”
You watched as he lifted your hands to press his lips to your knuckles gently. “Thank you.” You breathed softly and he looked to you tenderly.
“I’m the one with the debt of gratitude. Will you allow me some leeway to begin repaying you for all your kindness?” The way his warm brown eyes were boring into yours, framed by his long lashes, was threatening to make your knees knock together.
Taking a steadying breath, you shook your head firmly. “You say that like you have not somehow become the centre of my entire world, Lewis.” You countered weakly. “I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t forgiven me…”
He gently pressed a finger to your lips, shifting to whisper into your ear. “Then let me spoil you simply because I love you.”
His breath against your skin made you shiver before the meaning of his words registered and you pulled back to look at him, eyes wide. “Lewis…” Your gaze skittered across his face, drinking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the way he held his breath awaiting your response, before you hesitantly leaned forward to brush your lips against his. “I love you too.” You barely had time to exhale before he cupped your cheek to kiss you deeply.
Pulled back to bestow a warm grin on you, he squeezed your hand softly. “Allow me to lead you to the car before I give you a reputation on your street.”
With a breathless laugh you nodded, following him over to the civilian vehicle that you had no idea from where he’d procured, sliding into the passenger’s seat on the lefthand side. “You’re a very mysterious man, Lewis Nixon.” You shook your head as he climbed in beside you, driving off easily.
“I hope not, or I intend not to be. I don’t like keeping secrets from you, darling. I much prefer being completely open and honest with you.”
You smiled fondly as your heart throbbed in your chest. “Where are we going, then?”
“Your father allowed me to check the pictures playing at your local cinema and it seems there is an afternoon showing of the Wizard of Oz – I thought you might enjoy that?” He glanced over at you, smiling when you nodded quickly. “Then some window-shopping and dinner?”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the second activity, but dinner certainly sounded lovely. “That sounds like a wonderful day.”
“Good.” He nodded, navigating his way through the narrow streets until he found the cinema and a parking spot.
The pair of you arrived just in time to purchase a few snacks and settle into the half-empty theatre. Mid-afternoon was not a very popular time on a weekday, after all.
“I haven’t been to see a film in years.” You whispered as he lifted the armrest to snake his arm around your waist and pull you close, making you bite your lip.
“Me neither.” He admitted, resting his fingers against your hip softly as the picture started.
You knew you shouldn’t let him hold you so close, particularly not in such a public place, and yet it was dark in theatre and in all honestly you probably could not have born any distance between you, needing him as near as possible after so long apart. After falling so deeply in love with him. It did, however, make it awfully difficult to focus on the film. Your eyes continued to flick between the screen and his profile, inhaling deeply, enjoying the press of him along your side despite the added warmth of his body heat.
Somehow you did manage to remember to pay attention to the scene where Dorothy’s home landed after the twister, gnawing your lip in anticipation as she made her way to the front door and inhaling in wonder as the colourful land of Oz lay on the other side. The transition held just as much magic as it had the only other time you’d seen the film, a grin unfurling on your face as she wandered through the quaint village, passed the pond filled with lotus leaves. As your eyes inevitably shifted to sneak a look at Lewis you jumped slightly as they met his own directly, already watching you intently with a fond smile on his face.
Wordlessly he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips before turning back to the screen with a very pleased expression on his face. Sharing your treats, you enjoyed the film together in companionable silence, not a hairsbreadth of space between you, until the lights came up.
“That was even better than the first time I saw it thank you, Lewis.”
“I’m very glad, you’re welcome.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple before you shuffled out with the rest of the crowd.
The brilliant sunshine of midday had since been replaced by heavy clouds, rain threatening as Lewis took your hand and led you across the street to a rather upscale department store – one that you certainly had never shopped at before.
“Lewis, I didn’t bring my ration book…” You murmured nervously as he held the door open for you.
“Not to worry, we’re only window-shopping, not a shilling will be spent.” He winked, taking your arm once you were both inside and leading you around, getting your opinions on all sorts of things. Men’s clothing, women’s, toys, trinkets, before leading you over to the jewelry counters.
“Good lord…” You breathed at some of the more ostentatious engagement rings they had on display with massive diamonds.
Lewis smirked at you as he leaned against the case. “A bit much for your taste, darling?”
“Entirely too much.” You nodded firmly. “I don’t know how a woman could accomplish anything with a ring that size on her finger.”
“I suppose she wouldn’t be expected to, but that sort of life doesn’t really seem your speed does it.”
Looking to him slowly as this conversation took on a rather layered meaning, you shook your head. “No, I don’t think it would. Even if I did not need an income, I would most definitely need a purpose.”
“Noted.” He replied with a nod before moving towards a more modest selection. “Are these a little more to your liking then?”
Swallowing dryly you gave him a slow nod. “They are quite nice, yes.” You nodded, feeling suddenly rather nervous. Not in a bad way, but your heart most certainly could not remember how to beat properly despite you trying to remind yourself that it was only ‘window-shopping.’
Sensing your distress, Lewis led you over to inspect the necklaces, your tension easing without rows of engagement rings on display in front of you. After sampling a few perfumes, he smiled to you. “Ready for dinner?”
“Are you certain you didn’t need to make any sort of purchases?”
“That would be against the premise of window-shopping darling, was there anything you needed though?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shook your head, glancing back toward the store before turning to him.
“I’m fine, thank you.” You replied stubbornly and he squeezed your hand, the pair of your heading back outside as thunder rumbled long and low along the darkening street.
“I hope we can make it back to car.” He glanced at you quickly and you both immediately started hurrying your steps.
The skies opened up then and you quickly darted beneath the awning of a small shop that seemed to be closed for the day, yanking Lewis beneath its shelter as sheets of rain began to come down.
“Damn…” He laughed, shaking his head as you giggled softly in reply.
“Shouldn’t last long, doesn’t usually when summer storms pop up like this.” A brilliant flash of lightning cut through the gloom making you flinch and step closer to him, the resulting thunder startling you in turn.
“I’ve got you darling, nothing to worry about.” He slid his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest comfortingly as the rain fell so hard it rebounded off the pavement, practically obscuring the world outside your tiny dry square of shelter.
Reaching out to caress his cheek gratefully, his lips met yours halfway, seemingly unable to resist one another after so many months of denial. Lewis’s hand splayed across your lower back, moulding you to him as his tongue swept into your mouth, drawing a reflexive whimper from your throat. Giving in to impulse, you allowed your fingers to slide into the dark locks of his hair beneath his cap as his tongue dragged along yours, making it awfully difficult to keep on your feet.
The sound of the rain and intermittent crashes of thunder faded away into the background, all your focus drawn onto the man in your arms and your stolen moment amidst the chaos around you. Time became irrelevant as all sensation narrowed to his excruciatingly thorough kiss and the way it raised your body temperature, your body itself raising onto your tip toes to crush against his torso wantonly. A hum of approval rumbled through his chest, which you felt more than heard courtesy of the early evening thunderstorm, a tremor running through you in silent reply.
Lewis’s lips wrenched back from yours, his chest heaving, his normally rich brown eyes darkened by something you’d never seen before, something wild, primal. It made your thighs clench slightly to see it, his nostrils flaring as he surely felt the motion given that you were very much still pressed against him. You stared at one another, unmoving, silent, yet in your hazy state you still managed to note that the tumult around you was easing up, the other side of the street becoming visible through the curtain of rain.
“Dinner.” He eventually exhaled, taking a reluctant step back to reintroduce a respectable distance.
“Mmm.” You replied nonsensically with a nod of affirmation as the rain petered out to no more than a mist, frantic drips falling from the awning in the aftermath of the squall.
Lewis eyed you intensely a moment, swallowing visibly before wrenching his gaze from your face and continuing back towards the car with your hand tucked into his elbow. By the time the pair of you arrived at a rather nice, but not too nice, restaurant you’d both managed to regain a sense of composure. Lewis navigated the menu and wine list expertly and you were happy to let him do so, rather afraid to look at the prices.
His choices were impeccable, some of the best you’d ever eaten, certainly since before the start of the war, and though you were growing tired at the end of the evening as he pulled up to the flat you shared with your father, you were also loath for it to end.
“Where are you staying?” Your eyes widened as you realized you’d forgotten to ask such a pivotal question.
“The Goddard Arms, it’s quite suitable – far superior to a fox hole at any rate. May I pick you up around the same time tomorrow?”
Running through your mental list of clients, you nodded, noting happily you would have some time to change before his arrival. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
“Perfect. I’d like to take you on a drive and a picnic, just so you can plan your wardrobe accordingly.” He winked teasingly. “I’ll walk you to your door.” He slid from the car as you laughed warmly, coming around to open your door and help you from the vehicle.
As he led you up the walk and into the building, you smiled to him softly. “Today was incredible, Lewis, thank you very much.”
“Glad you enjoyed it, I intend to outdo myself tomorrow.” He smirked and you smothered your laugh behind your hand, not wanting to disrupt the neighbours.
“Sleep well then, best to keep up your strength.” You teased before your eyes widened slightly at the unintended innuendo.
“Please, I beg you, don’t tempt me anymore than you already are, darling.” He muttered, voice taking on a dangerous tone as he leaned in to kiss you fiercely.
You clung to his shoulders, feeling quite at risk of being swept away by his intensity, breath shaking as he pulled back.
“Good night.” He rasped.
You nodded, speechless and fumbling with the door to the flat before eventually making it inside.
--------------------------
Read Part Five
I Wish You Love Masterlist
Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse
#lewis nixon x reader#lewis nixon imagines#lewis nixon imagine#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers imagines#hbo war fic#band of brothers imagine#lewis nixon#band of brothers#easy company
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
“She questioned me endlessly about American life, American politics, American youth – although I was jokingly cautioned against using the word American to mean the U.S. or North America. “Everyone in this car is American,” she said. “You from the North, we from the South.” I explained as best I could about the Eisenhowers, the Nixons, the DuPonts, but she made even my condemnations seem mild. “Everyone in the world,” she said, with her finger, “has to be communist or anti-communist. And if they’re anti-communist, no matter what kind of foul person they are, you people accept them as your allies. Do you really think that hopeless little island in the middle of the sea is China? That is irrational. You people are irrational!”
I tried to defend myself, “Look, why jump on me? I understand what you’re saying. I’m in complete agreement with you. I’m a poet … what can I do? I write, that’s all, I’m not even interested in politics.”
She jumped on me with both feet as did a group of Mexican poets later in Habana. She called me a “cowardly bourgeois individualist.” The poets, or at least one young wild-eyed Mexican poet, Jaime Shelley, almost left me in tears, stomping his foot on the floor, screaming: “You want to cultivate your soul? In that ugliness you live in, you want to cultivate your soul? Well, we’ve got millions of starving people to feed, and that moves me enough to make poems out of.”
—-amiri baraka
257 notes
·
View notes
Note
As Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter have just celebrated their 77th wedding anniversary who were the longest and shortest married Presidents?
It's going to be tough for any First Couple to break the record for longest marriage set by the Carters. Bill and Hillary Clinton have the second-longest marriage of any living President and First Lady and they are still 30 years behind the Carters!
LONGEST PRESIDENTIAL MARRIAGES (as of July 14, 2023):
Carter: 77 years+ (Still married)
G.H.W. Bush: 73 years, 101 days
Ford: 58 years, 72 days
J. Adams: 54 years, 3 days
Truman: 53 years, 181 days
Nixon: 53 years, 1 day
Eisenhower: 52 years, 270 days
Reagan (2nd Marriage): 52 years, 93 days
J.Q. Adams: 50 years, 212 days
A. Johnson: 48 years, 75 days
Clinton: 47 years+ (Still married)
Biden (2nd Marriage): 46 years+ (Still married)
G.W. Bush: 45 years+ (Still married)
W.H. Harrison: 45 years, 130 days
Hoover: 44 years, 331 days
Monroe: 44 years, 219 days
Taft: 43 years, 262 days
Madison: 41 years, 286 days
Washington: 40 years, 342 days
F. Roosevelt: 40 years, 26 days
Taylor: 40 years, 18 days
B. Harrison (1st Marriage): 39 years, 5 days
L. Johnson: 38 years, 66 days
Grant: 36 years, 335 days
Hayes: 36 years, 177 days
Jackson: 34 years, 339 days*
(*Length of Jackson's legal marriage: Jackson and his wife, Rachel, were first married in August 1791 but it was declared invalid because Rachel's divorce from her first husband had not yet been finalized. The Jacksons weren't legally married until January 17, 1794.)
T. Roosevelt (2nd Marriage): 32 years, 35 days
Harding: 32 years, 25 days
Obama: 30 years+ (Still married)
McKinley: 30 years, 232 days
Tyler (1st Marriage): 29 years, 165 days
Wilson (1st Marriage): 29 years, 43 days
Pierce: 29 years, 22 days
Coolidge: 27 years, 93 days
Fillmore (1st Marriage): 27 years, 53 days
Polk: 25 years, 165 days
Garfield: 22 years, 312 days
Lincoln: 22 years, 162 days
Cleveland: 22 years, 22 days
Arthur: 20 years, 79 days
Trump (3rd Marriage): 18 years+ (Still married)
Tyler (2nd Marriage): 17 years, 206 days
Fillmore (2nd Marriage): 16 years, 26 days
Trump (1st Marriage): 13 years, 248 days
Van Buren: 11 years, 349 days
Jefferson: 10 years, 248 days
Kennedy: 10 years, 71 days
Reagan (1st Marriage): 9 years, 155 days
Wilson (2nd Marriage): 8 years, 47 days
Biden (1st Marriage): 6 years, 113 days
Trump (2nd Marriage): 5 years, 170 days
B. Harrison (2nd Marriage): 4 years, 341 days
T. Roosevelt (1st Marriage): 3 years, 110 days
#History#Presidents#First Ladies#First Families#First Couples#Presidential Marriages#Presidential Weddings#Presidential Relationships#POTUS Stats#POTUS Data#Presidential Stats#Presidential Data
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
#Nixon50 #OTD 2/8/1974 President Nixon and First Lady Pat Nixon dined at Trader Vic's in the Statler Hilton Hotel with Julie and David Eisenhower, Vice President and Mrs. Ford, former Ambassador to Italy and author Clare Boothe Luce, Senate Minority Leader Hugh Scott and Mrs. Scott, and others. (Image: WHPO-E2192-06A)
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
a három ügyből az egyik különbözik a többitől. csak az egyik esetben van egyértelmű bizonyíték, hogy a dokumentumokat rejtegették és szándékosan visszatartották. csak az egyik esetben volt szükség házkutatásra. csak az egyik esetben merülhet fel az igazságszolgáltatás akadályozása. elképesztő ez az újságírói cinizmus, ahogy ezeket összemossák, főleg hogy a másik kettő nem is lett volna ügy, ha nincs az első
másrészt nagyon kíváncsi vagyok, hogy kinél fognak még találni valamit. vajon jimmy carternél lehet még titkosított irat vagy azoknak már lejárt mind a titkosítása?! julie nixon eisenhower és david eisenhower is talán körülnéznek a pincéjükben, mi maradt a neves ősöktől. és tudtátok, hogy john tylernek (1841-45 közötti elnök, rabszolgatartó volt) még él az egyik unokája (93 éves)? vajon nála mi lehet még!?
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
what styles of wedding dresses do you have in mind for each of the warwick brides? 👀
Well, it depends on the decade when the marriages happen, but I hope to make wedding gown sets in chronological order based on the prevalent fashion trends of each decade. I'll give you examples of the wedding gowns I'm taking inspiration from. This would take a long, long time, but I'd work on these over the course of months.
Queen Katherine (1941): Katherine was a wartime bride, so her dress was cheaply made and very understated, most likely made of silk. INSPO: Gloria Vanderbilt's FIRST wedding gown, Babe Paley's wedding gown, Brenda Frazier's wedding gown
Princess Elizabeth (1952), Princess Alice (1954), Esther, Duchess of Glencairn (1956): For Louis's three aunts that were married in the 1950s, I was hoping to make a miniset of wedding gowns inspired by the Kennedy sisters particularly Jaqueline Bouvier, Eunice Kennedy and Joan Bennett's
Queen Irene (1968): I made Irene's wedding gown a while back but I don't know, it's fallen out of favour with me and I want to redo it with a different vibe? I love Julie Nixon Eisenhower's gown so much, so maybe expect something similar to that?
Phyllis, Duchess of Pape (1980): Probably the only opportunity I have to make an obnoxious 80's wedding dress that looks really ugly in hindsight. Maybe something similar to Olivia Newton-John's wedding gown or Lisa Vanderpumpp's. Obviously, these gowns are derivative of the ultimate 80s wedding gown (I don't even have to name or link it, you know).
Princess Jaqueline (1997): I really like Marie-Chantal Miller's wedding gown (probably the only thing I like about that woman). I think it would suit Jaqueline very well: a 90s wedding where a blonde socialite marries in a wedding way too grand for her status.
Tatiana, Princess of Danforth (1999): The late 90s - early 00s were a time of hideous royal wedding gowns (awful, just awful, don't argue with me, don't bring up Crown Princess Mary, I hate her gown) so I had to look elsewhere for inspiration. Mette-Marit of Norway's gown is the rare exception to this, so is Princess Clarie of Belgium whose dress really resembles Anne Hathaway's gown in Princess Diaries 2.
Courtney, Duchess of Woodbine (2005): I've always imagined Courtney in Vera Wang. Think Jessica Simpson and Kim Kardashian's first weddings, those types of gowns dominated in the mid-to-late 2000s. I envision her in something similar to Chelsea Clinton's wedding gown, or maybe Avril Lavigne's, she's named after Courtney Love, so keeping that punk princess theme with her would be cool.
Shelby, Duchess of Sherbourne (2019): I did her wedding for my story, but that was so long ago and so terrible that I sort of want to reimagine her wedding gown because I never really liked the one I used anyway.
10 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Zelma Watson George (December 8, 1903 – July 3, 1994) was a well-known African-American philanthropist who was famous for being an alternate in the UN General Assembly and, as a headliner in Gian-Carlo Menotti's opera The Medium, the first African American to play a role that was typically played by a white actress. She enrolled at the University of Chicago and obtained a BA in Sociology. She then went on to Northwestern University and studied the pipe organ until she enrolled as a voice student at the American Conservatory of Music. She received her MA in personnel administration from NYU and her Ph.D. in Sociology. Her doctoral dissertation, A Guide to Negro Music: Towards a Sociology of Negro Music, which cataloged about 12,000 musical compositions written or enthused by African Americans, due to her extraordinary work, allowed her to receive honorary doctorates from Heidelberg College, Baldwin Wallace College, and Cleveland State University. She was an advisor to President Eisenhower's Administration. She was involved with various national government committees, which usually concerned women, youth, and African Americans. She was a part of the Defense Advisory Committee on Women in the Armed Forces. She served on the executive council for the American Society of African Culture. She was a long-time member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. President Nixon named her to be a part of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. She received numerous awards for her accomplishments, including the Dag Hammarskjöld Award, the Dahlberg Peace Award, and the Mary Bethune Gold Medallion. She was inducted into the Ohio Women's Hall of Fame. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #alphakappaalpha https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl50kdOOe65/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
2 notes
·
View notes
Link
Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ❤️ The Saturday Evening Post Family Cookbook.
0 notes
Text
Oliver's Twist
DECEMBER SUNLIGHT GLINTS OFF the bald, bronze head of a statue of the ever-serene Buddha, sitting in the lush backyard of a Mediterranean villa in Santa Monica. A few paces away, in a living room filled with Asian antiques, two more personages—also plump and sparsely haired—radiate inner peace. One is Tara Stone, 5 weeks old and deep in slumber. The other is her father—upon whose chest Tara sleeps as he lounges on an overstuffed sofa.
While Tara's mother, Chong Son Chong, 36, a Korean émigré and former actress and model, putters elsewhere in the house, the father smiles with deep satisfaction, dipping a finger into one of Tara's white booties to touch her baby skin. "She can feel my heart," says director Oliver Stone. "She's made me a happy man." He speaks again, examining the word like a flower: "Happiness."
Wait, wait—who is this zen, beatific puppy? The Oliver Stone we know is an angry, self-described provocateur. The familiar Stone is the one who, a couple of years ago, dismissed those who doubted the baroque conspiracy theories behind his film JFK as "chick s-t." He is a director so notorious for on-set tirades that Anthony Hopkins, who plays the title role in Stone's latest dive into history, Nixon, has said he expected "a kind of caveman." But while Stone doesn't deny there are brutish aspects to his character, he insists they are mere brush strokes—not the whole portrait. "There's no appreciation," he says, "that there's another side of me."
Stone now wants the world to see that other side. Chastened by the acrimonious end in 1993 of his 12-year marriage to his second wife, Elizabeth, 46—who lives with the couple's two sons, Sean, 11, and Michael, 4—the director insists he has embarked on a fresh, clear path in life. He has a new child, and a new relationship, with Chong. In their generally positive reviews of Nixon, critics, while not defending him against persuasive claims that he has taken his customary liberties with historical fact, have praised Stone's newfound "restraint." A Buddhist since he embraced the religion while making his 1993 saga of the Vietnamese experience of the war, Heaven & Earth, Stone says he has also found a degree of spiritual tranquility. In short, Oliver Stone wants us to know that at age 49 he believes he is growing up.
There are some signs it may be true—one being his decidedly un-Stone-like response to criticism of Nixon. Before it opened—to very disappointing box office business—the late President's normally private daughters, Tricia Nixon Cox, 49, and Julie Nixon Eisenhower, 47, read a script and issued a statement through the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, Calif., decrying the movie as "character assassination." Since then, seemingly every Nixon Administration official, and a number of historians and neutral observers, have weighed in in a similar vein. "It is a despicable fairy tale," says former Treasury Secretary William Simon. "This is a vicious attack on a man," says onetime White House Chief-of-Staff Gen. Alexander Haig. Though Stone hasn't shrunk from defending his work, his responses have been far more measured than in the past. He wrote this month to John Taylor, head of Nixon Library, to suggest he convene a symposium on the late President's image, adding, "I understand the feelings you have about [the film]." In his turn, Taylor—who calls the movie sadistic—says he will invite Stone to a planned conference on movies about recent U.S. history.
Ironically, there are numerous parallels between Stone's life and Nixon's. Nixon, no matter how successful, never found personal peace; Stone has seemed equally driven. Growing up in New York City as the only child of Louis Stone (a stockbroker who died in 1985) and his wife, Jacqueline, Stone, like Nixon, rarely received much affection from his father. "Louis would never kiss Oliver," says Jacqueline. "He would shake his hand." Stone says his mother was loving but caught up in New York's arty social whirl. "When she was [home], she was perfect," he says. "But it was continual abandonment."
Compelled, perhaps, by a child's sense of powerlessness, Stone sought control. "He was not like other children—he was conscientious, tidy," says his mother. At age 6 on family visits to France, she says, he called upon his cousins to perform in sketches he wrote—and charged adults two francs to attend the show. "Oliver was the leader, and his cousins did the work. Oliver likes to have it his own way."
Behind it all, Stone says, "I was very insecure." The feeling intensified in 1960 when Stone was sent off to the Hill School in Pottstown, Pa., where he never felt he fit in. "I was nobody special," he says. "I felt invisible." Then, in his sophomore year, his parents divorced amid accusations of mutual infidelities, and Stone learned his father was deeply in debt. Stone's biographer, James Riordan, sees this as a formative moment. "After that, the whole world is like his parents," says Riordan, whose authorized bio, Stone, appeared last month. "There's always something deeper than the surface truth."
Hoping to find that something deeper, Stone says, "I took off into the world alone." He left Yale after his freshman year in 1965 to teach English in Vietnam. But he became bored and, craving to know "the bottom of life," enlisted in 1967 as an Army infantryman and was sent back to Vietnam. After a few weeks, he says, "I was becoming a jungle animal. I started out cerebral and civilized, and within two months I was operating on instinct."
Like many other soldiers, he was also operating on a range of drugs, from marijuana to LSD. After his discharge in 1968 he returned to the U.S. a heavy and indiscriminate user—a problem that plagued Stone, he says, until 1981, when he kicked a cocaine habit cold turkey.
Soon after he came home, drawing on a talent for writing stories and looking, he has said, for a way to "channel my rage" at the injustice he perceived in Vietnam, he enrolled in New York University's film program, graduating in 1971. After years of writing while getting by on odd jobs, he hit it big, winning the Best Screenplay Oscar in 1978 with Midnight Express.
The rage didn't disappear. James Woods, who starred in Stone's breakout film as a director, 1986's Salvador (and who plays White House Chief of Staff H.R. Haldeman in Nixon), recalls how he and Stone would pound one another's heads on the floor of their Mexican inn over artistic disagreements. "He bends you out of shape," says Woods. "He keeps you on edge—but he gets performances you didn't know you had to give."
Anger has made an imprint, in one way or another, on every Stone project, from Platoon, Wall Street and Born on the Fourth of July to JFK, Natural Born Killers and, now, Nixon. Stone himself sees its source as fear. "It has taken many forms in my life," he says. "I can get a stab of fear anytime. Sometimes you can handle it, sometimes you can't. I can get moody and defensive." Or, friends say, turn it on others. When he filmed her autobiography in Heaven & Earth, says writer Le Ly Hayslip, Stone could be a bully. "His energy is too strong," she says. "He knows he can make people respect and fear him."
Which may be why he received such a comeuppance in his wrenching divorce from Elizabeth Cox, whom he met when she served as an assistant on his 1981 thriller, The Hand. (Stone's six-year first marriage to Najwa Sarkis, 56, an attaché at the Moroccan mission to the U.N., ended in 1977. They had no children.) During the last few years of their marriage, Stone had numerous affairs, and, in an act of colossal hubris—one Richard Nixon would sympathize with—Stone kept graphic accounts of his extramarital relations in his diaries. Elizabeth found them.
Today Stone's sense of chastisement is clear. "You lose your kids—it is so sad," he says. "I only get a little portion of them now." Then a bit of his old sense of grievance creeps in. "American divorce laws are very tough," he says. "For whatever reason, the system is geared to destroy people." Still, he hopes to rebuild some trust with his ex. "We're trying to work out a friendship," he says.
It is one project among many. He is busy revising an autobiographical novel he wrote at 19. There is Memphis, a film he is developing about the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.—lest we think the new Oliver Stone will be moving on to romantic comedy. And there is Tara, named for the Buddhist deity of compassion. As Stone plays with the child, his face splits in a gap-toothed grin. "I've got a bond with her," he says. "There's a special relationship between a daughter and her father."
Tara's mother, whom Stone met at a New York City nightclub in 1994, says little about herself, except that "the baby makes me happy." Their pairing is, for Stone, uniquely honest. According to Jacqueline, her son has been frank with Chong. "He's said he will not marry her." His need for love, she says, "has been filled by Tara."
Stone would agree. "Love kills the demons," he says, standing, as Chong enters the room and reaches to take the child. But Stone pauses, bends over and kisses their baby girl—once, twice, three times—on the forehead. "I love these moments," he says. "I just don't have enough of them."
-Gregory Cerio, "Oliver's Twist," People magazine, Jan 22 1996
0 notes
Text
Meal In A Potato
The Saturday Evening Post Family Cookbook, Ed. Julie Nixon Eisenhower, Frederic A. Birmingham. Curtis Publishing Company (1975).
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
The 1970s - part 4
The Designers
Diane Von Furstenberg
In 1969 Diane Von Furstenbergmarried her first husband Prince Egon of Furstenberg, she then launched her own-name fashion label in 1970. "The minute I knew I was about to be Egon's wife, I decided to have a career,” she has said. “I wanted to be someone of my own, and not just a plain little girl who got married beyond her desserts." She achieved her dream in spectacular style, launching her signature wrap dress in 1973. Almost 40 years later and there is still no wardrobe that’s considered complete without one.
The wrap dress was inspired by seeing former President Nixon’s daughter Julie Nixon Eisenhower wearing a wrap blouse with a wrap skirt. Diane Von Furstenburg used this image as her motivation to combine the two into one “wrap” piece.
Zhandra Rhodes
Zhandra Rhodes is an English fashion and textile designer. Her early education in fashion set the foundation for a career in the industry creating textile prints. She has designed garments for Diana, Princess of Wales and numerous celebrities such as rock stars Freddie Mercury and Marc Bolan
Her textile fashion designs were considered outrageous by the traditional British manufacturers, which made it hard to find work. In 1968 Zhandra Rhodes started a business with fashion designer Sylvia Ayton. The two designers opened a boutique called Fulham Road Clothes Shop. The business allowed Rhodes to create her textile designs onto garments designed by Sylvia Ayton. She produced her first collection showing loose, romantic garments.
In 1969, the two designers went their separate ways, with Rhodes establishing her own studio in Paddington in West London. As a freelancer she released her first solo collection. The collection of garments received recognition from both the British and American market. Marit Allen, editor of American Vogue at the time featured pieces of Rhodes’s collection in an issue. Receiving recognition by Marit Allen persuaded high end retailers like Henri Bendel, Fortnum and Mason, Neiman Marcus, and Saks to purchase her collection. In addition, her own lifestyle proved to be as dramatic, glamorous and extrovert as her designs. With her hair a vivid shade of bright green (later changed to pink, and sometimes red or other colours), her face painted with theatrical makeup and audacious art jewellery, she stamped her identity on the international world of fashion.
Roy Halston Frowick
Roy Halston Frowick, best known as Halston, was an iconic clothing designer of the 1970s. His sexy, yet elegant dresses became a staple in American disco wear. He started off by designing hats but it was his dresses that made him famous. They were unique and streamlined. He worked with cashmere, silk and rayon jerseys, double-faced wools, and Ultrasuede. After two decades of dressing the jet-set, Halston was diagnosed with AIDS. He passed away in 1990.
Yves Saint Laurent
Yves Saint Laurent was one of the most famous and influential fashion designer of the 1970s. Drawing inspiration from menswear, foreign cultures, and historical periods, Saint Laurent crafted a new, chic, and modern way of dressing that became synonymous with the sexy and glamorous lifestyle of the decade.
YSL is probably most famous for "Le Smoking" tuxedo jacket, see- through blouses, peasant blouses, bolero jackets, pantsuits and smocks. By feminising the basic shapes of the male wardrobe, YSL set new standards for fashion across the world. He not only adapted the male tuxedo for women, but also safari jackets, pea jackets and flying suits. As well as this he was also one of the first designers to use ethnic minorities as models on the runway.
youtube
0 notes
Text
(General MacArthur gives keynote speech at Republican National Convention top left, Taft supporters top right, Eisenhower supporters middle right, Robert Taft bottom left, Eisenhower bottom right.)
Day 44- TV and Radio:
TV:
Pathe Newsreel, “U.S. Republican Convention Begins.”
Pathe Newsreel, “Ike V. Taft.”
Pathe Newsreel, “Republicans Nominate Eisenhower.”
Footage of “Senator Everett Dickson Defending Taft."
Footage of Eisenhower’s acceptance speech, July 11th, 1952.
Tales of Tomorrow, “Duplicates,” season 1 episode 40, July 4th, 1952.
The Guiding Light,” July 10th, 1952.
Radio:
Coverage of the Republican National Convention- news about the first day and General MacArther’s keynote speech, July 7th, 1952.
Voice of Firestone, “Dorothy Warenskjold,” July 7th, 1952.
What can I say about all the convention coverage except that it was fascinating? (Not including General MacArthur’s looong keynote speech! ) The most riveting part was footage of a Senator named Everett Dickson, who was a Taft supporter, imploring the delegates to listen to the committees and vote for Taft. A physical fight broke out on the floor, and someone had to be carried off! People were booing Thomas Dewey, who supported Eisenhower, and booing Senator Dickson himself... it was raucous and amazing. I was under the impression that Ike was always a shoo-in for the nomination, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
The other really fascinating part was Eisenhower's acceptance speech. He spoke the quote I listed in my previous post about aiming to “give our country a program of progressive policies in our finest Republican Traditions.” He also declared that Richard Nixon, the running mate the committee chose for him, had “a special ability to ferret out any kind of subversive influence wherever it may be found, and the strength and persistence to get rid of it.” Ummm... yeah, that was kind of his problem, Ike.
I also must mention that General MacArthur said this in his speech: "The framers of the constitution were the most liberal thinkers of all the ages." !!!! What has happened to this party in the last 70 years? Now the Republicans are trying to convince us that the American Revolution was a "conservative revolution," and Enlightenment thinking had nothing to do with it. Seriously.
In non-political programs... Voice of Firestone was basically just an M.C. announcing songs sung by soprano Dorothy Warenskjold and the NBC orchestra. It was enjoyable to listen to, as something different. The Guiding Light was less than 15 minutes with liberal amounts of commercials for soap and Crisco. The “action” in it was pretty boring. One woman announced she was leaving NY to go to California, and a husband and wife argued about the baby while the husband played chess with his father! Tales of Tomorrow was especially brilliant, and it only made me fall in love with the show even more. A man is given a special mission by the government to go to a planet where everything has an exact duplicate to this one, down to the molecule...
...And now a word from today’s best sponsor: Crisco! It’s digestible! Why use boring old natural fats when “sweet and fresh tasting” trans fats are just waiting for you in a can? Foods fried in light and tender Crisco are really digestible! Why, even doctors say they’re easier to digest! Finally, there’s a fat that lets the pure natural flavor of your foods shine through, using only the most processed unnatural chemically altered fat you can buy! And, hey, let’s just say once more that it’s digestible, because we seem to think that’s really important for you to hear!
0 notes
Text
Events 9.8 (after 1900)
1900 – Galveston hurricane: A powerful hurricane hits Galveston, Texas killing about 8,000 people.
1905 – The 7.2 Mw Calabria earthquake shakes southern Italy with a maximum Mercalli intensity of XI (Extreme), killing between 557 and 2,500 people.
1914 – World War I: Private Thomas Highgate becomes the first British soldier to be executed for desertion during the war.
1916 – In a bid to prove that women were capable of serving as military dispatch riders, Augusta and Adeline Van Buren arrive in Los Angeles, completing a 60-day, 5,500 mile cross-country trip on motorcycles.
1921 – Margaret Gorman, a 16-year-old, wins the Atlantic City Pageant's Golden Mermaid trophy; pageant officials later dubbed her the first Miss America.
1923 – Honda Point disaster: Nine US Navy destroyers run aground off the California coast. Seven are lost, and twenty-three sailors killed.
1925 – Rif War: Spanish forces including troops from the Foreign Legion under Colonel Francisco Franco landing at Al Hoceima, Morocco.
1926 – Germany is admitted to the League of Nations.
1933 – Ghazi bin Faisal became King of Iraq.
1934 – Off the New Jersey coast, a fire aboard the passenger liner SS Morro Castle kills 137 people.
1935 – US Senator from Louisiana Huey Long is fatally shot in the Louisiana State Capitol building.
1941 – World War II: German forces begin the Siege of Leningrad.
1943 – World War II: The Armistice of Cassibile is proclaimed by radio. OB Süd immediately implements plans to disarm the Italian forces.
1944 – World War II: London is hit by a V-2 rocket for the first time.
1945 – The division of Korea begins when United States troops arrive to partition the southern part of Korea in response to Soviet troops occupying the northern part of the peninsula a month earlier.
1946 – A referendum abolishes the monarchy in Bulgaria.
1952 – The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation makes its first televised broadcast on the second escape of the Boyd Gang.
1954 – The Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) is established.
1960 – In Huntsville, Alabama, US President Dwight D. Eisenhower formally dedicates the Marshall Space Flight Center (NASA had already activated the facility on July 1).
1962 – Last run of the famous Pines Express over the Somerset and Dorset Railway line (UK) fittingly using the last steam locomotive built by British Railways, BR Standard Class 9F 92220 Evening Star.
1966 – The landmark American science fiction television series Star Trek premieres with its first-aired episode, "The Man Trap".
1970 – Trans International Airlines Flight 863 crashes during takeoff from John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City, killing all 11 aboard.
1971 – In Washington, D.C., the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts is inaugurated, with the opening feature being the premiere of Leonard Bernstein's Mass.
1973 – World Airways Flight 802 crashes into Mount Dutton in King Cove, Alaska, killing six people.
1974 – Watergate scandal: US President Gerald Ford signs the pardon of Richard Nixon for any crimes Nixon may have committed while in office.
1978 – Black Friday, a massacre by soldiers against protesters in Tehran, results in 88 deaths, it marks the beginning of the end of the monarchy in Iran.
1986 – Nicholas Daniloff, a correspondent for U.S. News & World Report, is indicted on charges of espionage by the Soviet Union.
1988 – Yellowstone National Park is closed for the first time in U.S. history due to ongoing fires.
2004 – NASA's uncrewed spacecraft Genesis crash-lands when its parachute fails to open.
2017 – Syrian civil war: The Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) announce the beginning of the Deir ez-Zor campaign, with the stated aim of eliminating the Islamic State (IS) from all areas north and east of the Euphrates.
2022 – Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom dies at Balmoral Castle in Scotland after reigning for 70 years. Her son Charles, Prince of Wales, ascends the throne upon her death as Charles III.
0 notes
Photo
#Nixon50 #OTD 5/24/1973 The White House hosted the now-historic dinner honoring the returned Vietnam Prisoners of War. The event included celebrity entertains and artist such as Irving Berlin, Bob Hope, Sammy Davis, Jr., Phyllis Diller, Joey Heatherton, and more.
Earlier in the day, a reception for the military wives was hosted by First Lady Pat Nixon, Julie Nixon Eisenhower, and Tricia Nixon Cox, while President Nixon attended a reception for the former POWs at the Department of State Building.
5 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
itsveronicasmith-blog
Veronica Smith
dr-galal-12
Untitled
candicelyn-blog
A girl trying to define her twenties
happytraveltips
Happy Travel Tips
slepill-blog
What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguis