Word: bruiser
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Nicknamed "Pudge," hefty Heffelfinger that first year trotted out on the gridiron to do what the coaches expected of him. No empty-headed bruiser, he made a place for himself in the Varsity rush-line. (In those days there were no prissy eligibility rules; a man could play from his first to his last college year?and even after.) Sweating and grunting Rusher Heffelfinger helped to roll Yale over Princeton 10 to 0. The next year his team crushed Harvard and the third year overcame Princeton again...
...Growling and puffing, the Columbia line was unable to break holes for Kumpf and Bruiser Buser. Dartmouth's Bankart, Sutton and Lyle easily made three touchdowns. The score...
...Count of Ten. Charles Ray is the bashful bruiser, the simple-minded boy who could lick the champion. James Gleason, here a cocky misogynist, is his manager. When the manager goes away, Actor Ray puts on a pink shirt, yellow gloves, a cane, and spats, marries. Instead of taking on the champion, he takes on expenses and a gambling brother-in-law. At last, for quick money he fights the champion with a broken hand, and is, of course, beaten up. His wife had given him the count...
STORE OF LADIES-Louis Golding -Knopf ($2.50). Bulls, despite the talk, do not frequent china shops. But boxers do, sometimes, invade polite society. Wordy but facile Author Golding is here engaged, and most engaging, with Jimmy Burton, Burmondsey bruiser, on Mediterranean shores. The warm widow whose puny son he is physically cultivating shows her gratitude for favors absently bestowed, by saving him from an emotional cropper over a "toff" (lady). Back he goes to "frail,, wistful but sublimely impudent" Emma Creamer, of Poplar (equivalent: Hoboken). . . . Louis Golding, whose eloquent tonsure was lately a feature of Oxford University, has written with...
...angry Irishman, Jonathan Swift. So has come to think that onetime cable of conservatism, Painter Sir William Orpen. His painting was the exception: A white bear stands in the glare of a Paris prize ring. There is blood at his feet; he has just consummated upon a human bruiser, now unconscious, brutalities so magnificent that spectators of every sex, replete with ecstasy at the spectacle, slobber and clip, heedless of an ape that sits among them, scrutinizing with remote but kindly cynicism their delirious reversion to the bestial. "Hogarthian," said the critics. "Horrible," said the quality...