Word: celling
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...they rushed the jail's iron doors with two great pieces of iron pipe, tear gas was as useless as cigar smoke. The sheriff was carried off unconscious. The mob found Holmes on the second floor. He put up a hard fight for life. Thurmond was in a cell on the third floor which had been vacated by Palo Alto's Murderer David A. Lamson (TIME, Sept. 11 & 25). He clawed the ceiling like a rat in a flooded bunker. From inside the jail two trails of blood led across the court yard, across the street, stopped beneath...
...loose. His father, Senator Arthur Charles Hardy of Ontario, heard the news just before his steamer landed at Cherbourg, sped to the rescue with a high-powered French lawyer. Fulford Hardy had been clapped into jail. Mrs. Hardy, not seriously injured, tearfully inquired if he had a comfortable cell, if she might send him his pajamas. Two inspectors hurried out from Paris to take charge of the case and Bonnieres' Police Commissioner washed his hands of the business muttering "Ah, mon Dieu, ces Americains...
Last year the Socialist Government of Manual Azana finally banished him from the Cortes and clapped him into jail, held him there without trial. From his cell Juan March pulled every wire in sight, got himself elected to the Tribunal of Constitutional Guarantees to judge the work of the Republic and was more than any other man responsible for the downfall of the Azana Cabinet (TIME, Sept...
Negro Armwood was bleeding from head and chest when he was dragged out of the jail. He was stunned from the fight he had put up in his cell. He made no outcry, even when a young boy leaped on his back and cut off one of his ears. He fell often under foot as the mob dragged him along. He was dead before they strung him up to an oak tree in sight of Judge Duer's house. Some mobsters tried to set fire to what few rags remained on the corpse. There was not enough to burn...
...Eccolo, e matto, poveretto," the poor fellow is gone mad, exclaimed the Abbot at the monastery at Samos, while Byron raged with fever, allowing no one in his cell, breaking up the last shred of furnishing, beating Bruno, his unfledged physician, over the head. Bruno tore his hair, gnashed his teeth, wept because he had no power to use his poor skill on his master; the monks trembled and prayed. News of action came. Byron recovered overnight, set forth with miraculous energy; "I believed myself on a fool's errand from the first," he wrote, but he endured everything...