Word: crape
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Sinclair loyally supports her husband's politics, there is a recurring refrain that goes something like: "I told Uppie not to do it, but he wouldn't listen and so he was arrested again." Sinclair fought John D. Rockefeller Jr. by picketing his Wall Street offices in crape. He bugled for milk, vegetarianism, Prohibition. Sacco and Vanzetti. Yet even a New York Socialist leader said: "Sinclair is an ass." And he never really wrote very well. After a rejected manuscript, according to one anecdote, Mary said sadly: "Why can't you seem to use the right words...
...past four or five years we have had these attacks with all the regularity of an annual case of spring fever. And now, once again-to use a great mixed metaphor-'The crape-hangers are crying wolf in the marketplace.' " So said Ford Edsel Division General Sales Manager J. C. Doyle last week, commenting on the curious psychology of businessmen and the U.S. public about the boom. Instead of optimism, the greatest economic advance in history has often produced the opposite effect: a fretful, unreasoning pessimism. Like rabid Mickey Mantle fans, the U.S. has become so used...
Student retaliation was instantaneous. As Harvard historian Samuel E. Morrison puts it, "The 'black flag of rebellion' was hung from the roof of Holworthy... The juniors, led by Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar, voted to wear crape on their arms... and hanged Quincy's effigy to the Rebellion Tree...
TRIAL, by Don Mankiewicz (306 pp.; Harper; $3.50), is the $10,000 winner of the Harper Prize Novel Contest, but the ribbon it really earns is a piece of black crape. The book is a flaccid throwback to the I-never-had-a-chance school of social protest popular in the '30s. Author Mankiewicz, 32, nephew of movie Writer-Director-Producer Joe (The Barefoot Contessa) Mankiewicz, chooses as his hero-victim an 18-year-old boy of Mexican descent who lives in a Southern California town that draws its color line tight as a noose. Straying from "Mex Town...
...George Arthur Buttrick, pastor of Manhattan's Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church, hung some crape for the students of Millsaps College in Jackson, Miss.: "We have explored the planet to learn its secrets, and . . . our ills have multiplied so greatly that our mental hospitals cannot contain them," he gloomed. "It is poetic justice that a generation which has been seeking its own life now has to talk about itself in a psychiatrist's office...