Word: land
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Verses in this vein, appearing in the Communistic Daily Worker, induced one David Gordon also to write a poem. He called it "America," and in it, by crass terms, described the Goddess of Liberty in New York Harbor as looking down upon a land where liberty no longer thrived. So vile did three New York judges think the boy's phrases, so indecent his imagery that they would not excuse his adolescence. Last week they ordered him to the reformatory for 13 months. Three other judges had already sentenced Editor William F. Dunne of the Daily Worker...
Then mother and son were driven up Pennsylvania Ave., as 150,000 people became hoarse. President Coolidge and another 150,000 were waiting in the vicinity of the Washington Monument. Radio Announcer Graham McNamee was telling the rest of the land: "Here comes the guard of honor ahead of Lindbergh's car. . . . The cavalrymen with drawn sabres make a dashing picture. . . . Here's the boy. . . . He comes forward unassuming, quiet, a little stoop in his shoulders. . . . Now I will turn the microphone to the reviewing stand, where President Coolidge and the boy Lindbergh stand quietly together...
...selling ice cream, privately commissioned an artist to copy the Stuart portrait of Washington which he had seen in the Chicago Art Institute. Last week he presented the oil painting to his school. He is behind in his studies, but he has given boards of education, throughout the land, something on which to ponder...
Tillie the Toiler (Marion Davies, Matt Moore). According to Subtitle-Writer Ralph H. Spence, Tillie is the sort who wears two pairs of garters, "one to hold up her stockings and one to hold up traffic." The minx sets her cap for her wealthy employer, Pennington Fish. To land him she toys with the firm's general manager, Benjamin Franklin Whipple, a fop, declaring as she proceeds that she "will catch the rich Mr. Fish by using Whipple as the worm." In due time, however, all this diabolism is put aside in favor of wholesome matrimony with a sober...
...predominant mood is one of satire. Too wise to bear any rancor, too polite to make her rudeness obvious, Author Warner ever so softly annihilates Christian idiocies. Her weapons are neither rapiers nor bludgeons. They are satin sofa-pillows which she tosses laughingly but with accuracy. Breaking when they land, her missiles leave the recipient white and ridiculous with feathers. In prose as easygoing, as smooth and level as a buzzard's flight, she matches her astute intelligence with a fancy as varied as it is engaging...