Word: grinded
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Monday for Travel. Despite the rugged routine and close living, the itinerant competitors remain on remarkably good terms through the season. They live for golf, and the tournament grind leaves no patience for prima donnas. Mondays are usually for travel to the next tournament; Tuesdays and Wednesdays are dedicated to practice, mostly with the short irons. (Without the heft to wallop man-sized drives off the tee, the girls have to nibble at par by polishing their approach shots. Their chip shots are deadly, and a delight to watch.) Evenings, for all the gin rummy games or the inevitable cocktail...
...life is a grind for the undergraduate, it is a grist mill for the advanced student. Already equipped with some scientific training, the grad student finds Tech more a job where he is an apprentice than a school where he is a learner. For him this is no 9-5 day, 40-hour week proposition. The chemical engineers and spectroscopists may work around the clock figures on a dial, and the night lights of the architectural drafting room are a beacon that can be seen as far down Mass. Ave, as Central Square...
...Motor Co., set up pilot operations to mine and process* jasper by a new method. Last week Cleveland-Cliffs and Inland Steel Co. announced that they will build, near Marquette, Mich., the nation's first big jasper-mining and processing project. At peak production the Marquette plants will grind some 6,000,000 tons of jasper yearly, convert it into 3,000,000 tons of walnut-sized pellets that contain 60% iron...
Hell on Frisco Bay (Jaguar; Warner) The resident devil is Edward G. Robinson, a sort of menace emeritus who is invited by Alan Ladd, a cop he once framed, to retire from the daily grind to a peaceful chair at San Quentin. Eddie replies at some length: "Oh y-a-a-a-a?" Alan lets his right hand do the talking-and for a man who seems to have scarcely enough muscle to move his own face, he packs quite a punch. The effect of it, in fact, is almost enough to make a moviegoer believe that this picture...
...their brethren who traveled on other lines, the New Haven crowd (35,000 suburbanites on the New York end, 22,000 in Boston) liked their trains; when other commuters cursed and griped about poor service, they smiled smugly and accepted their own discomforts as part of the daily grind. Now all is changed. For months, in the newspapers and at hearings in New York City, Boston and Stamford. Conn., the commuters have complained bitterly about sloppy service, endless delays, dangerous cutbacks in maintenance. All of the invective has been directed at one man, Patrick Benedict McGinnis, 51, the colorful, terrible...