Word: hollowness
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...communities of America might attract attention by changing their names to ones suitable to their conditions. We suggest the following: Bare Creek, Empty Dinner Pail, Starving Children, Ragtown, Tattered Clothes, Hooverhit, Jobless, Empty Belly, Depression, Moaning Widows, Too-Weak-to-Weep, Turnip-greens, Nogrub, Patches, Mounting Debts, Sunken Eyes, Hollow Cheeks, Hungry Guts, Rickets, Scurvy, Pellagra, Last...
...English version first. And thank the good Lord he had. At least he knew where and when to laugh, and just how hard. Melrose and the Boston Latin School were obviously impressed; the Vagabond had regained some of his lost prestige, though some sceptics may call his victory a hollow one. Now the Vagabond refuses to be called insular and provincial. He is willing to hold forth at great length on the cultural stimulus received from a closer liaison with the cinematic art of Europe, an art free from the sullying trends of Hollywood commercialism so the critics...
...comics burlesquing grand opera stars. Their voices are not bad but they sing as loud as they can all the time and the recording makes the results even worse. The orchestra utters metallic clickings, moans sepulchrally in the lower register, makes the upper notes shrill and hollow...
...motor-freighter Raby Castle last week and sniffed. "Opium!" said he, and set about with his crew of 40 to find it. They went down to the base of the forward mast, deep in the hold. There, surrounded by impassive Chinese the Inspector tapped the steel mast, found it hollow. "Bring a drill!" said he. Out of this hole in the hollow mast he soon extracted tins of opium worth $150,000 at $25 an ounce. Owners of the ship, James Chambers Ltd. of Liverpool are liable to fines equal to the dope's value, if they cannot prove...
...Manhattan's 125th Street station was carried a case of Golden Wedding rye whiskey, one day last week." But it was not a Senator or a Governor or even a Mayor who was leaving town for a pleas ure jaunt. It was New York's nervous, hollow-eyed, pasty-faced little racketeer, Jack ("Legs") Diamond. He was going home to the Catskill Mountains. Dressed in a flashy coat, grey spats and a checked cap, carrying two novels (Jury of Death, Super-City), he had just been released from a city hospital on Welfare Island...