Word: oils
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...been living a moderately civilized life in his wire enclosure for several years, still spending very little of his oil money. He dislikes white men, he still wears the long knife in a scabbard at his belt and he is reticent in conversation with most of his Osage brothers. Franklin Revard, a member of the tribal council and a prominent Osage, is one of the few to whom John will speak in Osage grunts...
When the Osages struck oil, royalties were not paid to individual Indian land owners, but were received communally and distributed, equally, to the "headrights." Some of the tribesmen took legal steps to be declared competent and proceeded to have a hilarious time with the new wealth. The incompetent Osages are now most competent, for they have cash reserves in Washington and their incomes are stable, amounting to $1,000 per quarter-year, with special cash dispensations for special needs. The competent Osages are now, with a few fine exceptions, busted, except for meagre funds that filter in from new oil...
...Metal Trades Department and angriest Labor foe of John L. Lewis' C. I. O. Mr. Frey boldly announced that he would go right ahead with his plan, to head up a mass meeting in Houston this week: start an A. F. of L. oil organizing drive in competition with the C. I. O. campaign which got under way last week...
...teacher in the Bauhaus in Weimar under the direction of Walter Gropius, appointed Professor of Architecture here early this year. With the writing of a book explaining his concept of post-Impressionism, "The Art of Spiritual Harmony", Kandinsky has fortified his advances in the field. The exhibition includes oil paintings, water colors, lithographs, and etchings, all done the World...
...poetry, flagrantly trespassing on poetry's ground. The Years has fewer of these ambiguously-styled passages than To the Lighthouse or The Waves, but they appear now & then. Sometimes they are onomatopoetic: "And the walloping Oxford bells, turning over and over like slow porpoises in a sea of oil, contemplatively intoned their musical incantations." But most of Virginia Woolf's descriptions are pictures: "It was March and the wind was blowing. . . . With one blast it blew out color-even a Rembrandt in the National Gallery, even a solid ruby in a Bond Street window: one blast and they...