Word: aproned
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Here another counter-man, who refused to divulge his name, also spoke of the leisurely social practices of the cafeteria habitues. "They come in there," declared the Georgian Ganymede, who wore a white apron and cap, "just loaded down with books and papers, and get their lunch and make a regular library out of the place, spreading it thick all over the tables. And at night, there's a regular bunch of night-ows who stay here and do everything but hoot. I don't know anything about how fast they eat, but they do make a slow and sociable...
...ceremony for the dead at the Elks Club in Manhattan. Then they buried him in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, at Tarrytown, N. Y., where the Very Rev. Oscar F. R. Treder, dean of the Cathedral of the Incarnation, at Garden City, L. I., draped his coffin with the white lambskin apron of a Master Mason. As the frozen lumps of earth clumped down on his coffin they seemed to boom up a phrase he once cried: "I have almost had my very soul burned out in the trials of life." William Green, mine worker, Odd Fellow, Elk, Baptist, was at once...
Once a youth-no common youth-wore a soiled waiter's apron as he hustled behind the counter of the old Indianapolis Union Station. People called him "Tom." Even Republicans liked this jovial pushing Irishman, were glad to help him when later he bought the eating-house, hustled still more, bought the Grand Hotel. More people called him "Tom," so he entered politics, became identified with every state campaign for 20 years and more. Indiana took to its dusty bosom this free-and-easy politician without any "dog"* who accepted and played politics with good-humored cynicism...
...regime and the Mussolini dictatorship (if you like) at its very worst, it has never interfered with the personal habits of anyone, and in Italy we don't have to pay for the support of a lot of Izzy Einsteins, nor are we tied to a paternal government's apron-strings in respect of the beverages we want to drink. That may not be much, but it is something...
Richard Dix is admirable in a part that brings memories of Wallace Reld and Lois Wilson shows that a bungalow apron is not essential to her success on the screen. Miss Wilson has always had, despite her at times cloying sweetness, remarkable personality, and the same kind of reticence that makes you feel noble when Lila Lee gazes upon you from the dark confines of the theatre. Furthermore, "ain't she thinner", as the ladies behind us remarked...