Word: crooked
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Stock vaudeville gag for 25 years because of its funny Indian name, the little city of Kankakee, Ill. (pop. 20,000) was the hometown of the late Pen-&-Inkman Frank D. Waterman, the late Sculptor George Grey Barnard, Cinemactor Fred MacMurray. Purring contentedly in a crook in the Kankakee River 56 miles south of Chicago, it is proud of its humming industries (overalls, silk stockings, furniture, farm implements), is famed for its huge State insane asylum. Last week Kankakee purred so loudly that the whole nation heard...
Lesser men of the year seemed small indeed beside the Führer. Undoubted Crook of the Year was the late Frank Donald Coster (né Musica), with Richard Whitney, now in Sing Sing Prison, as runner-up. Sportsman of the Year was Tennist Donald Budge, champion of the U. S., England, France, Australia. Aviator of the Year was 33-year-old Howard Robard Hughes, diffident millionaire, who flew a sober, precise, foolproof course 14,716 miles round the top of the world in three days, 19 hours, eight minutes...
Many strange things bobbed up last week when investigators probed in the affairs of McKesson & Robbins, the great drug firm which had been defrauded by an expert crook. Among the strangest were old copies of Drug Topics found in the company's files which declared that McKesson & Robbins had "sponsored" a nationwide lecture tour in 1936 and 1937 "to consolidate the sentiment of retailers, manufacturers and businessmen generally behind the Robinson-Patman Law." The lecturer was Congressman Wright Patman of Texarkana...
...Last week Mr. Mackenzie, who used to be a druggist in P. T. Barnum's home town of Bethel, Conn., was reported to have received $6,900 per year as lobbyist for McKesson & Robbins, the drug firm of Crook Philip Musica-Coster...
...steals around Her shoulder, and Her head comes to rest easily in the crook of his elbow. Mutual contentment. The mad, festive roar of those thousands at dances is now a thing apart; far below the city appears calmly dignified. From the west a tiny train slithers into the station behind its headlight, and the green eye of a signal turns to red. Then, carrying over the show-silence, comes the faint but insistent tinkle of a church bell which tolls and tolls. The Eve has become...