Word: baldingly
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...horseshoe were three Republican isolationists: Mrs. Edith Nourse Rogers of Lowell, Mass., 59, fluttery, saccharine, gushing, with orchids and iron-grey curls; Hamilton Fish of Garrison, N. Y., 52, rangy, headline-hungry, with a brazen voice and a longtime suspicion of England; George Holden Tinkham of Boston, Mass., 70, bald, potbellied, with jowl-whiskers like a Russian droshky driver. Mr. Fish, veteran of many a skirmish with old Mr. Hull, and knowing that the Secretary's innocent, suffering face masks a hot-pincers talent of repartee, gave up the witness swiftly, but prodded furious, bulbous Tinkham in to violent...
...gallery's enterprising director, bald, sad-eyed Curt Valentin, had chosen 26 assorted bronzes, terra cottas, plaster, wood and granite pieces by 16 of the ablest U. S. sculptors. All of them were U. S. citizens, but less than half of them were U. S.-born & bred. Deftest sculptures exhibited were by Ukrainian-born Abstractionist Alexander Archipenko, German-born Heinz Warneke, Spanish-born José de Creeft, who teaches at Manhattan's New School for Social Research...
...sang blindly for a rotten-toothed, dragglemaned lion that wants to smother the world with the weight of its years, to save itself from the cubs it has raised in the mines of the North and the mills of Manchester. But your duty is here, to lay the old Bald-Head quietly to rest, to deck its young with bright feathers and make strong their wings for flight. Mare Jaffe...
...Washington's Munitions Building last week there was a new pair of legs under old William Tecumseh Sherman's ornately carved desk. Bald, 60-year-old Brigadier General George Veazey Strong, long overdue for duty away from Washington, had been transferred from the top of the General Staff's War Plans Division to command of the VII Corps Area at Omaha. His successor was a 52-year-old, brand-new brigadier general: straight-lipped, shock-haired Leonard Townsend Gerow (pronounced jehr...
Last week the sedate lights of Manhattan's Carnegie Hall shone on a well-polished bald head, which bobbed and weaved over the assorted pates of the New York Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra. Now & then the glabrous dome would shake like a furiously boiling egg, starting a corporeal tremolo through the whole lean, ascetic body. Long arms and clenched fists flailed high & low. It was a sight to see. And from the Philharmonic this flailing and shaking drew the most satisfactory and exciting sounds since the days of Arturo Toscanini...