Word: mountaineer
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...250th anniversary of that siege was just what the Dollfuss Government needed. A great memorial exhibition was set up in Vienna's Belvedere Palace, full of hats, gloves, maps, swords and other relics of Prince Eugene and Count von Starhemberg. Colored prints and picture books were issued. In mountain villages prizes were given for Austrian peasant costumes. Orators made speeches. And it worked. Week by week, hundreds of serious young Austrians who had felt that the only hope for their country was immediate political and economic union with Germany, have felt increasing affection for their own red-&-white-striped...
...possible to change the geometric design on Austrian five and two groschen copper pieces to a swastika. The Treasury announced that these mutilated coins would not be accepted as legal tender. Most amusing was the Battle of the Bands. On the frontier near Innsbruck stands a great mountain, the Zugspitze. Up the Bavarian side clambered a sweating, puffing Nazi brass band. Up the other side went the band of Vienna's favorite Deutschmeister regiment. Near the summit both bands proceeded to frighten eagles from their eyries by blaring Nazi and Austrian patriotic songs, simultaneously...
Early one morning last week bugles rang out on the sharp mountain air of Innsbruck in the western spur of Austria that is the Austrian Tyrol. Tyrolese in their Lederhosen watched with amazement as the garrison troops marched forth, climbed into buses and rolled off toward Scharnitz on the Bavarian frontier. Off went one regiment of Alpinists, two Viennese infantry regiments, two batteries of mountain artillery and one signal corps company. The good-hearted Tyrolese had heard many a rumor that an army of 8,000 Austrian Nazi exiles had massed on the Bavarian side of the frontier. The rumor...
Many a writer appears on the literary horizon like a cloud no bigger than a man's hand, swells quickly to mistily gigantic proportions and-vanishes like a mist. Gertrude Stein is no such writer. Like a huge squat mountain on a distant border of the literary kingdom, obscured not only by the cloudy procession of more Aprilly authors but by the self-induced fog that hangs around her close-cropped top, she has loomed from afar over the hinterland of letters, a sphinxlike, monolithic mass. Twenty years she has squatted there; eyes accustomed to the landscape are beginning...
Plain readers are not apt to go to Gertrude Stein, with or without introduction. Mahomets in their own right, they insist that Mountain Stein should come to them. And now at last the mountain has come. At one long-deferred bound she has moved from the legendary borders of literature into the very marketplace, to face in person a large audience of men-in-the-street...