Word: heyday
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Post-war liberals will find in Harold Rugg's awakening a nostalgic flavor. Greenwich Village, Walter Lippmann's New Republic and Sinclair Lewis were in their heyday, corsets were coming off and speakeasies coming in. Rugg discovered Isadora Duncan, the Fabian Society, John Dewey, Thorstein Veblen, the "new historians," notably Charles A. Beard. Aroused by such "frontier thinkers," Rugg decided that education needed frontier thinking too, helped launch the famed Teachers College group. For some ten years this group-Professors Rugg, William H. Kilpatrick, George S. Counts, Jesse H. NewIon, Goodwin Watson, et al.-held bimonthly discussions...
...palmy days of the Defender were mostly over when Mrs. Abbott No. 2 appeared. In its million-dollar-a-year heyday (1919-28) the Defender brought Publisher Abbott (son of a Georgia slave) fame, social position, a Rolls-Royce, a Hearstian house filled with Hearstian gimcracks...
...Moko (French Production; Arthur Mayer and Joseph Burstyn release) arrived in the U. S. following its tail. Produced during the heyday of the French cinema four years ago, it sired a Hollywood duplicate, Algiers, which finally wakened cinemaddicts to further charms of Hedy Lamarr, who, as Hedy Kiesler, had audiences gulping at her nude prancing and purple passion in the foreign-made Ecstasy...
...their pre-World War I heyday U. S. Socialists boasted a potent press. Under Debs's leadership the Socialist weekly Appeal to Reason ran its circulation up to 5,000,000; the New York Call once had a million readers. Of such might, the mere remaining shadow is the Manhattan weekly, the New Leader. Under forced draft it pulls 43,000 readers-mostly among Manhattan and Hollywood malcontents and old Socialists who sigh for the good old days. Its assistant editor-tireless, 5 ft. 2 in. Victor Riesel-is also most of the New Leader's editorial staff...
Quinette in connection with a woman's mysterious disappearance to assume (on no grounds) his guilt. He seeks him out and, in a state of mind half parlor-game, half maniacal sincerity, woos him as a "Master," a "Dark Angel," the modest herald of Rimbaud's "heyday of assassination." He drives the tricky, mousy little murderer nearly witless with hypnosis and fear. Inevitably too, he is no more enmeshing than enmeshed. In rage and shame as an amateur, a rejected disciple, he is drawn at length into a botched attempt at sexual murder...