Word: martinet
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...publisher necessarily or even usually a martinet. Instead, his attitude "filters down, by well-defined channels, to his staff. . . . Without orders, without crude directives, city editors fall easily into the habit of saving their big type for safe topics like rape and burglary, and burying the 'hot' (the ideologically dangerous) news in the back pages. Reporters learn not to scrutinize too closely the sacred cows of the community, and editorial writers husband their mightiest blasts for the remotest wrongs...
Personal Touch. The commander who drilled the Fifth is no martinet. He drove himself, as well as his troops, hard. But in a relaxed sort of way. He does not stomp or rage-or even smoke to ease his nerves. The tauter Mark Clark feels, the quieter he usually becomes. But what he says then in his resonant voice may have a steely edge, and his long legs may take longer, caged-lion strides. He does not have General Patton's histrionic flair, or General Eisenhower's command of expletives. Yet he can let off steam with...
...Mussolini's place stood no democrat. Aging (71), stiff-backed Martinet Pietro Badoglio had never been counted an extreme Fascist. When the Blackshirts were marching on Rome he looked on contemptuously, offered to clean them up. He had opposed Mussolini's war against Greece, had become the scapegoat for the abject Fascist failure there. He had sided with high Italians who resented the alliance with Hitler and the swelling Nazi arrogance in Italy. The camera's eye had once caught him, alone and defiant among a group of officers, declining to follow the Duce in the Fascist...
...Phillies are not a great ball club, perhaps not even a good one, according to peacetime standards. But Manager Harris is working wonders with the material at hand. No martinet, like the Pirates' Frankie Frisch or the Dodgers' Leo Durocher, he gives his players plenty of rope, never rides them, never drives them, plays no favorites...
...players but lacking professional experience. They are coached by a faculty of first-desk Boston Symphony players, but when they play they are on their own. Three hours a day, six days a week, with a few evening hours thrown in, they rehearse under the maestro himself, a genial martinet in an open-neck shirt, slacks and sport shoes, who expects miracles and often gets them...