Word: meals
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...highway robbery. Eight years later this McAuley founded a mission at No. 316 Water Street, Manhattan, where wharf life is drably vile. His slogan was "The Man No One Else Wants." Drunkards, drug addicts, broken down sports, panhandlers, sick street-creatures could get a bed, a wash, a meal. It was the first city rescue mission in New York, and remains the most famed...
...counterpoint and chords, columns and domes, is a thing for the rest of the world to admire but not to share. But the man of letters has no such monopoly of his art. He has merely pursued it further than the laboring man who knows how to order a meal in English. The language is common property. The man who develops his manner of using it to the plane of art may use tools that are more finely tempered, but they are of the same shape as those employed by the most commonplace writer. Words must give the thought...
...America," Mr. Macauley says "Eating on this side of the Atlantic has become one of the lost arts." The problem Harvard faces also seems to be a national one--the result of America's special ogre, standardization. Cursing cafeterias and similar quick lunch places whose proud boast is a meal a minute, the epicure goes on to comment regretfully on the days when dinners were both edifying and edible. Like Christopher Morley he is a strong advocate of the Three Hours for Luncheon Club...
...meal and one meal only it is pointed out is treasured by the average American business man: namely, the weekly Kiwanian or Rotarian luncheon which, though not always marked by excellent fare, is at any rate a leisurely and companiable occasion. But is is not the fortune of everyone to be either a Kiwanian or a Rotarian and therefore the non-fraternal portion of America is left with a cup of coffee, a sandwich, and a tin plated armchair. The Forum author endeavors to solve the enigma. "To me our main difficulty seems to be a failure to make...
...years old, white. They reprimanded him. He sulked, dashed away, told his tribe that he had been whipped. Forthwith, hulking Negresses and little pickaninnies bestirred themselves; produced knives, whips, razors; set out to reprimand the Misses Keifer. In a restaurant the Misses Keifer were finishing their evening meal. The Negresses patted their weapons, waited until their victims came upon the street. The Misses Keifer emerged, saw, sprinted. They were overtaken-whips lashed across their backs-black paws ripped their clothing, tore at their hair. Meanwhile, some 20 undergraduates from the University of Pennsylvania jumped into the battle, swung fists...