Word: grimness
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Ultimatum. Ferguson raged; Taft grew grim. At last, Taft made himself heard long enough to call first for a recess until noon of the next day (Saturday). Then, he said in cold anger, he would wait until Monday. And then, "if those who are now blocking the organization of the Senate have not changed their minds, I propose to keep the Senate in session to break this. Use of the filibuster on such an occasion for such an inconsequential purpose is so unjustifiable that if you do not change your minds you are going to face a complete change...
...scattered wreckage for two hours before rescuers reached them. The injured and the dead had to be carried through knee-deep muck to flat-bottomed swamp boats, then ferried across the estuary to ambulances. It took all night and all the next day before the grim and bloody work was done...
...automobile needed repairing, but when he closed up, early Christmas morning, he decided it would have to wait. He took $1,500 in small bills, headed for the grim and grimy sidewalks of the Bowery. He walked up to a knot of whiskery derelicts standing in the shelter of a doorway. "Merry Christmas," he said, holding out some money. "Have some dough...
...through others, conserved his strength and (reportedly) worked on his memoirs like any good, grey 19th Century British empire-builder. Churchill was still the world's greatest orator,* but a statesman's words, unlike a poet's, need power to give them weight; Churchill, testy and grim, was not in power. Bull-necked Ernest Bevin had rushed into 1946 snorting to U.N. and to the world a great commoner's bold concept of democracy. But Bevin was sick, and he, too, as the year went on, was content to see the bold words fly where...
...whiskery, 62-year-old Charlie Miller would engage in a different sort of enterprise; he would try to shut the sound of carols from his mind. They reminded him too painfully of his happy boyhood in Germany. Charlie would spend Christmas where he spent every other day-in the grim, Lysol-haunted Municipal Lodging House. He would pass the morning reading tattered newspapers. At eleven, he would pick up his crutches (to which his spare shoes and a bundle of other belongings were lashed) and get a chicken fricassee dinner. Then, slowly, he would go back to the heap...