Word: box
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...bitter afternoon for the New York Giants' Leo ("The Lip") Durocher. His old ball club, the Brooklyn Dodgers, was spraying Giant pitches into the far reaches of the Polo Grounds. Each time Durocher crossed to his third-base coaching box, visiting Brooklyn fans yowled and booed...
Most raucous needier was a zoot-suited, jobless young Puerto Rican named Fred Boysen, who had somehow wangled a $2.50 box seat. Boysen's view, as he expressed it later, is that "the fun of baseball" is kibitzing; a big-league manager should be able to take it. He dished it out. He spat in Durocher's direction and said: "Here, Leo, this is for you." As five hapless Giant pitchers were mauled, he cried at the Giant boss: "Why don't you go in and pitch yourself, you monkey?" Leo also said he heard Fan Boysen...
When the game ended with his Giants on the losing end of a 15-2 rout, Durocher left his coaching box and started the long, crossfield trek to the clubhouse in centerfield. At the same time, fans poured onto the field, heading for the outfield exit. Out in Texas-league country, Leo and Fred Boysen crossed paths. A few seconds later, Boysen was picking himself up from the turf and Durocher was walking away flanked by Second Baseman Bill Rigney, No. 18, and Fred Fitzsimmons, No. 6 (see cut). Leo Durocher was off the sport pages and on Page...
...sounded like the dizziest Hollywood logic, but it was a fact. Box-office grosses, despite a slight recent recovery, had not gone back to the wartime highs. Pictures had moved so fast through the nation's theaters that Hollywood's huge stockpile vas almost exhausted. The big sound stages were suddenly put furiously to work to supply the theaters' demands...
...Hollywood's restaurants the tips were at again; the Great Panic seemed to be over. The simple reason: box-office busi-less all over...