Word: drove
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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During the week Louis St. Laurent had sessions with Prime Minister Mackenzie King, and one night they drove out to the Country Club to dine with Sir Norman Brook, Secretary to the British Cabinet. This week St. Laurent was going home to Quebec City for a reception worthy of a Prime Minister...
...ordered the leader. Juncadella did as he was told. The robbers scooped up hundreds of bank notes and cleaned out the cash windows. Eight minutes after entering the bank, they walked out into the sun-baked Prado, crossed to the shady side where their cars were waiting, and drove away. It was the biggest bank robbery in Cuba's history. Total take...
...Bronco Bill" Schindler, favorite of eastern midget auto-racing fans, drove his bucking doodlebug in Hinchliffe Stadium at Paterson, N.J. last week, fresh from victory two nights earlier at a track about 40 miles away. The crowd expected him to win again. As king of the eastern doodlebug circuit (53 wins in 1947, 35 so far in 1948), Bill Schindler is one of the sport's big money winners...
...Paterson, Schindler seemed to hold back. Time after time, as Veteran Chauffeur Bob Disbrow* hugged the pole out front, Schindler drove his black Offenhauser up alongside him, stomped on the foot-throttle and seemed about to pass. And each time in turn he eased off, slid back into the second slot again. At the race's end, he was still second man. When Schindler pulled up, swung the stump of his left leg over the side and reached for his crutches, his fans showed their disappointment, but Bronco Bill did not. "There was oil on that track," he explained...
Brooke enjoyed his short life too much to bear down often with sustained intensity on any writing, artistic or critical. Poverty and illness and ambition drove his poetic progenitor John Keats; but early success, doting friends and romantic passions distracted Brooke. He was almost at his best in his letters. From a Munich boardinghouse he described a "monstrous, tired-faced, screeching, pouchy creature, of infinite age and horror, who screams opposite me at dinner and talks with great crags of food projecting from her mouth." Musing on Niagara Falls, Poet Brooke wrote: "The river, with its multitudinous waves...