Word: copping
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Everything was progressing with the happy and aimless inevitability natural to such situations. A few vegetables, a few soft heads, it was the usual time had by all in the usual manner. But tragedy stalked from Billings to Stover. The law injected a sordid note when the first cop pulled the first tear bomb. What had been valor and pleasantry became stark and earnest and the Freshmen wished they had never left home...
...narrative fades in with the young person enroute to a Manhattan speakeasy with her fiance. Drinking therein are an Italian tenor and a courtly ex-judge. Before many reels have elapsed the fiance gets himself jailed for badgering a cop and the young person finds herself in the tenor's rooms for the night. So childlike and pure is she that he puts her to bed with a huge teddy bear and goes to sleep on the sofa. He surprises her and probably himself the next morning by proposing marriage. Since she has fallen drip-pingly in love with...
...airplane in Manhattan's Central Park" (TIME, Sept. 7). Early in the spring of 1914, I landed a Sloane-Deperdussin monoplane, 50 h.p. Gnome motor (some power fer them days, by gravy!) in the sheep meadow at 66th Street. Was arrested for something-possibly, publicity for the cop who arrested me- and discharged by Magistrate MacQuade next morning. The Aero Club of America suspended my license for six months. If I remember correctly, George Beatty landed a Model B Wright on this same field at least two years before I did, and the late Blair Thaw turned the trick...
...Chicagoans were blase about Mayor Cermak's crime drive they at least felt sure they had an honest man at the head of the city's 6,500 policemen. Oldtime newshawks used to say: "If there's an honest cop in this town, it's Allman." Tall, lean, grey, he is 56, has been a policeman 31 years, a captain since 1917. He is called "Iron Man" because of a legend that he never smiles, is an excellent marksman with his pistol. A student of criminology, he is brainier than most policemen. No less honest...
...figures on how many people write for my autograph yearly. More do than ask for many of the autographs of film stars, not that I deserve it-but it is an indication that the American public does not desert its sport idols altogether. And another, thing! Nearly every speed cop when he catches up with a speeder asks "Hey, d'ya think yer Barney Oldneld?" That is, of course, when they're not askin': "Whezdafire, huh?" and "Wher' th'lya goin'?" You know me, BARNEY OLDFIELD...