Word: bottomly
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...bottom of the critical list, surprisingly, came Gilbert Gabriel of the American. When he worked for the Sun, Critic Gabriel's name led all the rest in 1925-26 and 1926-27. Shrewdly surmising that the Hearstpaper's business department must have had a restraining hand on Critic Gabriel's column, observed Variety: "This year . . . Gabriel was obviously pitching from the dugout...
...companion have repaired for a cup of tea. In spite of murder and rapine which takes place under her nose, Miss Lillie doggedly finishes her repast, incredibly chipper even when a corpse is draped over her shoulders. She also obliges with that old favorite: "There are Fairies at the Bottom of My Garden...
...situation was precisely that one which, so gloriously pictured in sporting fiction, is enacted so badly in most real sport events. Graber, a dark, handsome, nonchalant youth, clung to a bamboo pole painted green at the bottom, slightly longer and more springy than two others which he had brought with him from the Coast. A chipper young fellow, he had brought also a small red camera with which he expected his teammate Pete Chlentzos to take his picture when he set a new record. Chlentzos stood behind him now, patting the lower part of his back, repeating...
...jovial dignity of top-hats, frock-coats and waistcoats with pearl buttons. Seniors rig themselves on Derby Day in the clownish regalia of sailors, goat-bearded farmers, raffish monks or intoxicated nuns. When, four years ago, this mood of conviviality caused an undergraduate to establish a bar in the bottom of a two-story charabanc, efforts were made to modify the diversions of Yale's Derby Day. It remained, last week, the chief holiday week-end of New Haven's spring. A quota of canoes, rocked by apparently inebriate paddlers, capsized above the dam. Presumably due to Depression...
...went down there!" they cried, pointing to a cellar door. Chief Russell drew his revolver, started downstairs. The squirrel, hiding just inside the cellar entrance, darted at the Chief, fastened itself on his trouser-leg. Believing at last, the policeman calmly kicked the animal to the bottom of the stairs. It sat there, blinking up at him. It must have rabies, he thought; he must not destroy its head, which the health authorities would want to examine. Carefully he aimed his service revolver, steadily fired, blew a hole through its shoulders. Then he went down and picked up the body...