Word: cornering
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...reporter yesterday by Professor Kirsopp Lake, Winn Professor of Ecclesiastical History. When asked by the reporter just what the details of this work was, Professor Lake led the way into the Library of the Andover Seminary and up through the stacks to a door which opened into a small corner room in the center of which stood a table covered with envelopes, and photographic prints. On the walls were racks full of sets of similar prints...
...rings, linen, gold chains, diamond chains, bracelets, antique combs. When her maid Anna Bernhardt, aged 23, last week gave notice, Mrs. Harrison became suspicious. She called in the police. Detectives Gallagher and Murtha strolled over from the East 104th Police Station (her apartment is at 1160 Fifth Ave., the corner of 97th St.). They searched the maid's room and found the missing articles. In court Miss Bernhardt wept on her mistress' shoulder, asked for a chance to prove that she was innocent. Mrs. Harrison relented and asked Magistrate McKiniry not to send the girl to jail. He said...
...Ernestine Schumann-Heink, 65 years old, appearing at the Metropolitan for the first time in nine years, 38 years* after her debut there as Erda. It was late in the opera and an audience, unused to operas with no intermission, was shuffling restlessly. Then blue light played on one corner of the darkened stage, a trap door opened, Ernestine Schumann-Heink was back. She sang the short passage allotted to her with fine full tones, nobly, magnificently. There were many murmurs when she had finished: "A great voice, a great interpreter, a great old lady...
...December evening through which the 19th Century was creeping at last to its grave, a silver-haired gentleman of broken but distinguished appearance made his way from the Grand Avenue Hotel of Enid, Okla., to the corner drugstore. He purchased lilac perfume and headache powders, enough to keep his head steady on "a long trip." Next day the hotel porter thought he heard a groan through the locked door of the old gentleman's chamber. The door was burst in time for a doctor and two others to hear a stertorous voice say: "I am--am--John Wilkes-- Booth...
That premier of journalists, Defoe, when misfortune cased his sturdy limbs with the tiobers of the pillory, invoked his muse and made some cash thereby. And Francois Villon was a poet though a picaroon. So Gerald Chapman, writing heroically unheroic couplets in his cloistered corner of Connecticut, has precedent preponderous--even more precedent than the verse demands...