Word: clang
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...with less labor by referring to Charles Dickens' A Child's History of England, since, as history, this period thriller is considerably less authentic than its elaborately spooky reproductions of London's Tower. But the battles of Tewkesbury and Bosworth with nickering horses and the knightly clang of iron against iron set a new high for realistic racket that should deafen the most demanding...
...sank in, many a layman and many a sociologist pondered on what the next ten years would bring. Rightly they foresaw a decade of struggle, of widespread distress, of mounting tension. Hopefully some of them dreamed of a return of the bull market whose knell was sounded when the clang of the bell ended trading on Oct. 24. Gloomily, more of them saw ruin ahead, riots, revolution, convulsions and crisis. On schedule the tests of U. S. strength arrived: unemployment increased, banks failed, riots shook the country...
...Fire, Fire! Catastrophe!" The clang of a muffled bell fang out through the night. Vag, wandering down Holyoke Street, stopped short in his tracks. Screams of women and shouts of men could be heard coming from the innermost recesses of the Big Tree Swimming Pool. A man of action, Vag sprang to the rescue, dashed down a side alley, and burst through a small door at the rear of the Big Tree. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils. But undaunted, he staggered on through a dark corridor shouting, "Everybody keep calm. Walk, don't run, to the nearest exit...
More than 75% of Chicago's passenger traffic is handled by a vast system of street cars and busses. Chief rapid transit the city proper has is furnished by its far-flung 41-year-old elevated railway system, 14 lines that creep and clang counterclockwise around the "Loop" encircling the 7 by 6-block financial and mercantile district before heading back toward the city's outskirts. Inside the "Loop," the property values are as high as the 45-story Field Building; outside they fall off just as steeply...
There are, however, a few notes of Irish heroism sounding above the clang of futility. The material speeches, rapidly assorting that war is terrible but not evil and that there is no redemption except by blood, have as hollow a ring as a master of irony could give them. They are heard only as they soop into a pub, where a bartender and a prostitute occasionally listen. But when the British soldiers complain of the sniping, the answer. "Do you want us to come out in our skins and throw stones?" is almost happy, pugnacious patriotism...