Word: drone
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Whatever the embattled farmers may think, the onetime Professor of Agronomy who came from Kansas to be Secretary of Agriculture is no drone. His name is William M. Jardine and his mind works like Herbert Hoover's. Both of them are "pluggers." A man must be a "plugger" who can produce a 120-page annual report on agriculture covering the entire field from "Swine Sanitation" to the "Nutritive Value of Wheat Bran...
...wire string snored in the sky. Stretched across heaven, above the mudflats of the airdrome at Norfolk, the string of some invisible instrument threw down its drone to the ground. A seaplane tipped out of a cloud. The singing stretched before and behind it like a wire. In the plane Major Mario de Bernardi of Italy moved through a last kilometre of air. He had won the Schneider Cup race. His speed, unprecedented, was 246.496 miles an hour...
...natives have been selling their lives dearly almost daily in guerilla attacks upon the French Army of Occupation. For eight months the French garrison at Damascus has bombarded that city or its environs almost nightly (TIME, Nov. 9 et seq.). Scarcely a morning dawns that French airplanes do not drone aloft to release bombs. At Aleppo, Horns, Hama, Seraand, Suedia and Salkhad other French garrisons defend themselves by similar means. French semi-armored trains and auto-convoys ply with grim regularity this sea of revolt. When a lone Frenchman ventures forth, a scimitar flashes or a crudely cast bullet dumdums...
...engaged fewer new singers than ever before is inevitable, they pointed out; he has most of the good ones now. But significant is the fact that in the thin receiving-line of operatic debutantes there are three Americans. This is Manager Gatti-Casazza's second answer to the drone of those who protest that the Metropolitan ignores native talent. His first?a remark made last year?was: "Find me an American Caruso, bring me the score of a U. S. Meistersinger...
...sound of an airplone motor in the sky is no novelty to the citizens of Mineola, L. I. Planes from the airport began to drone aver the town in 1917; they have never stopped. Mumbling like bumblebees by day, complaining by night like mosquitoes brushed, for their plaguery, from the beard of their God, their noise has jarred through the brains of the townsmen, mingling its drowsiness with the reveries of sleepyheads until that jargoning has become part of the normal somnolence of the place, part of the indistinguishable murmur of the summer countryside, the wash of the salt...