Word: chaires
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...usual, a soft buzzer sounded, the little page-boys scampered aside, the great red curtains parted, and the Justices of the U. S. Supreme Court stepped between them to their black-leather chairs behind the long mahogany bar. But this time there was a difference. At Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes' left, a chair was draped in black; on his right sat one of the loneliest men in the world. No spectator on last week's decision-day could look at gaunt, craggy-faced James Clark McReynolds* without a stir of sympathy...
...cold afternoon last week a pale, dark-haired young woman, supported by a nurse and a detective, entered a Manhattan court, staggered to a chair and slumped back with her head against the wall. The corridor and waiting rooms outside the justice's chambers were crowded. A group of reporters stood in the corner. At a long mahogany table facing the Supreme Court Justice's desk sat the young lady's parents. Across the table from them sat a young man with a belligerently cheerful smile. With him was his lawyer. "It's real love...
That is the way Poet Robert Lee Frost, sitting in the new Ralph Waldo Emerson Chair of Poetry,* talked to some 40 reverently attentive students at Harvard University last week. No newcomer to Harvard or to teaching, Robert Frost was successively English Professor at Amherst, and Poet in Residence at the University of Michigan; at Harvard for three years gave the popular Charles Eliot Norton poetry lectures. Harvard hopes he will sit in the Emerson Chair for at least two years...
...horrible are the artificial epileptic fits forced by metrazol that practically no patients ever willingly submit. Common symptoms are a "flash of blinding light," an "aura of terror." One patient described the treatment as death "by the electric chair." Another asked piteously: "Doctor, is there any cure for this treatment...
...Major for Oboe and Strings, hard-boiled critics threw kisses at the ceiling, and at the end of the first movement the audience cheered. Marcel Tabuteau grinned uneasily, but he did not rise to acknowledge the applause. When it was all over he boosted himself out of his chair and hobbled off the stage. Marcel Tabuteau had the gout. For two weeks, on tour, he had been traveling in wheel chairs, ambulances, on crutches, in the arms of his fellow orchestra musicians. For the Philadelphia Orchestra without Marcel Tabuteau would be like soup without salt...