Word: nine
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Said Wallace: "There is something so unlovely about hate when you see it distorting the human face." In three days in North Carolina, booing, jeering crowds drowned out his attempts to speak. He and his party were pelted with dozens of eggs and tomatoes. He was hit at least nine times, splattered by near misses five times. In Hickory, N.C., two rotten eggs plopped near him. Cried Wallace bitterly: "As Jesus Christ told his disciples, if at any town they will not listen to you will ingly, then shake the dust from your feet and go elsewhere."* He shook...
...Just nine years ago, men drinking in languid Paris cafes, staring at the sky from Polish fields, listening to tremulous radios in American living rooms, were afraid of war. Their fears were justified when on Sept. 1, 1939 German bombers started battering Poland to a pulp...
...Nine years ago, war broke out chiefly because there were too many men too much afraid of war. Because of their fear they sold or forgot the faith, the common sense, and the courage which might have prevented war. Today, the danger of war lies, as it did in 1939, with the men who fear war too much...
...head of the procession which escorted Zhdanov's body from the ornate, white-columned hall of Dom Soyuzov (House of Unions), where it lay in state, to Red Square, two blocks away, walked a group carrying a giant portrait of the dead man. Next came nine generals, one admiral, three civilians, each carrying on a red plush pillow one of Zhdanov's 13 military, naval and civilian decorations. 'The open red and black draped coffin rode on a caisson pulled by six jet-black, white-harnessed horses. Zhdanov's mustached, lifeless face was green...
...nine-man band made sweet music that sounded like two marshmallows meeting headon. Its shuffling, danceable rhythm treacled out of a fair piano, a soggy sax, a toneless trumpet, a cooing clarinet and a bass. The feature acts, a good old square dance and the numbers the boys in the band clowned up in trick hats and phony mustaches, were strictly corny. But last week, while many another U.S. nightclub with tonier entertainment was as empty as the inside of a kettledrum, Chicago's old standby, the Blackhawk Restaurant, couldn't find room for all the customers...