Word: cheerlessly
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Experienced fishermen count themselves lucky to land one out of every four steelies they hook. They will spend every winter weekend in a boat or camped on some cheerless river bank in hopes of netting one or two fish. In the old days, they sometimes went all season long without a catch. So popular was the steelhead that there were five fishermen for every fish until Biologist Clarence Pautzke, 57, now chief of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, hit on a new way to restock Washington's rivers. Instead of dumping 1-in. or 2-in. steelhead...
...speaks and even seems to think with a stammer-but the halt is strangely touching. In song, his voice quavers and breaks, but then he catches it, and it rises to a shriek that ends on a cheerless blue note. He rocks in rhythm across the keyboard of his piano, but he seems not so much mannered as he is possessed. He is a blind Negro, haunted by narcotics; yet when he sings a song that makes him stammer, shriek and rock, Ray Charles is the best blues singer around...
...Radio Corp. of America, the master's voice belongs to Chairman David Sarnoff, and it has been rather cheerless in recent years. By 1960, two ambitious projects had pulled RCA profits down to a bare 2.4% on sales. One was Sarnoff's gamble on color television-a burst of red on the ledger books. The other was RCA's assault on the grimly competitive computer market; the figures that RCA computers produced were all minuses...
...eleven-story building of the Broken Hill Proprietary Co. Ltd., in downtown Melbourne, is stark and cheerless, almost down at the heels, by U.S. corporate standards. And its tenant is fusty and taciturn. But . B.H.P., as the 77-year-old steelmaker is known Down Under, has paced- and made possible-the galloping growth of Australian industry since World War II. In the process, it has become a sort of Australian version of A.T. & T., refuting the old dictum that basic industry in a democracy cannot be entrusted to a monopoly...
Under normal circumstances, only necessity would draw any Frenchman to Maubeuge (pop. 30,000), a cheerless, Hoboken-like manufacturing center up near the Belgian border, where the moon-or, for that matter, the sun-shines rarely on the River Sambre. But all summer long the roads to Maubeuge have been jammed with moonstruck vacationers, honeymooners and touring rubbernecks, all lured there by what promises to become Europe's next popular hit-a tango called Un Clair de Lune à Maubeuge (Moonlight at Maubeuge...