Word: gauntness
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When Britain's Eighth Army entered Tunis in May 1943, a gaunt, saturnine figure, who looked like an unshaved cardinal, popped out of a hideout in the Italian quarter. He was France's most discussed, most influential man of letters, septuagenarian Novelist Andre Paul Guillaume Gide. German patrols, Gide explained, had captured a copy of his latest, frankest journal of events and he had been in hiding for a month. He soon buttonholed an Eighth Army photographer, plunged into an enthusiastic discussion of pre-Nazi German poetry...
...words could not, the camera's eye recorded the story of a people (see cut). Somewhere in war-torn Italy, planes dived low. In this instance, they were Nazi; they might have been Allied. In their wake, a gaunt father bore his hurt child. This was a paesano's burden-and Italy's burden. This was a reminder that while courtiers clung to privilege, politicians wrangle'd and alien soldiery racked the land, a nation of 45,000,000 was in transition, stumbling from Fascismo to a less evil destiny, suffering in its hours of expiation...
Before a Senate subcommittee came John Alessi, 43, of Brooklyn. Mr. Alessi, a gaunt, nervous man of Italian descent, drives a truck for New York City's Sanitation Department. He is the father of three, and wore, fittingly, a white collar in his appearance before the committee, which is investigating "whitecollar" working conditions. He was supposed to be just a minor witness, to illustrate the ponderous cost-of-living figures spread before the committee by C.I.O. president Phil Murray. But Mr. Alessi stole the show. He has had a bad time of it ever since 1929. Now things...
Mean Man. Turner's gaunt face and his high dome give him the look of a parson. On leave before the war, he used to live with his wife and his Lhasa terriers at their comfortable Carmel, Calif, home, playing golf, fishing, talking incessantly, growing roses, reading Conrad through gold-rimmed spectacles and dreaming of the day when he would retire and take a round-the-world cruise aboard a freighter. To his colleagues (who know how to use monosyllables respectfully) he is known as "a mean son-of-a-bitch...
Again Russian hamlets set afire by alien hands glowed in the bluish dusk, and misshapen figures dangled from the gallows. Again the thunder of Red artillery pursued the fleeing men through day & night, and white-painted Stormoviks hopped over the gaunt trees to bomb and strafe...