Word: nextly
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...mastered his own specialty, artillery, then went on to pore over the more theoretical aspects of warfare. He became a firm believer in a strong defense as a prelude to any kind of warfare, and, with Adolf Hitler's, his eyes were turned to the East as the next battleground for the Reich...
...hander who plays tennis like a man batting out fungoes. In the quarter-final he easily dismissed Gil Hunt, the Washington, D. C. mathematician who sometimes uses a tennis court to demonstrate how he can balance a pencil on his bare toes. But in Jack's next match, he faced no eccentric pushover. He ran up against a 19-year-old, six-foot-one Golden Boy from California, unseeded and unsung, but the nearest thing to full Titan stature U. S. tennis has seen this season. Sidney Welby Van Horn, who prefers Welby because he thinks Sidney sounds like...
...kept him moving, fed him no setup lobs, passed him at the net, caught him flustered and flatfooted with service aces, finished him off in straight sets, 6-4, 6-2, 6-4. Bobby won the title, but the boy they talked about on the way home was Welby. "Next year," they said. In the women's singles, Alice Marble breezed through with scarcely a challenge, stood off a grim Helen Jacobs in the final, to the enjoyment of practically everybody but leathery oldster Molla Mallory, who said Alice would never be a tennis player until she learns...
...what went on after the opening bell made mugs of many an expert-John Kieran, Hype Igoe, Jack Dempsey, Jim Braddock, Tommy Loughran. Not since the day of Elbows McFadden had fight fans seen such a bar-roomy brawl. In the first round Tony butted and backhanded. In the next, he wrestled and elbowed. Then Nova, whom the trade calls a get-even fighter, forgot his boxing orders and set out to get even. From then on he never had a chance. Tony butted, gouged, rabbit-punched, hit high & low, dropped Lou with two lefts and an airplane spin, dropped...
Last week observers had difficulty recognizing the Queen Mary, though Britain's big luxury liner lay in plain sight next the Normandie at her dock in Manhattan's North River. Her superstructure, more spotlessly white than ever, seemed to be suspended over a smudgy grey cloud that blended with wharves and water. The lower part of the ship had all but disappeared under a coat of grey paint. Day or two later the white superstructure almost disappeared too. The Queen Mary was not slapping on war paint (battleship grey is several tones bluer and less muddy...