Word: patent
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Fifty years ago, when the biggest national advertisers were patent-medicine manufacturers and an annual appropriation of $100,000 was regarded as a breath-taking extravagance, George Presbury Rowell started publishing a pocket-size semimonthly journal for advertisers, gave it the chaste title Printers' Ink. U. S. business was feeling the faint stirrings of the machine age. Advertising was destined to become the midwife for mass distribution and Printers' Ink soon became a handmaid for advertisers. Today, Printers' Ink, still pocket-size, is a weekly with 17,803 subscribers who spend nearly all of the nation...
...only a few U. S. citizens. Post-Repeal's more bizarre tastes run to such concoctions as orange gin, lemon gin and mint gin, products of London & Co., of Elizabeth, N. J., a distillery which has capitalized on the freak market. This year the company applied for a patent on "Liquorized Ice-Cream." As rich and thick as junket but tasting more like an Alexander cocktail, the mixture consists of 5% to 25% liquor (sloe gin, dry gin, rum, whiskey, cognac or Scotch...
Rural journalism began as a sideline for job printers. Its editorial basis was local gossip; its financial foundation was patent medicines-Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound, Sloan's Liniment, Beecham's Pills, Carter's Little Liver Pills, which were among the first national advertisers. Today there are 11,852 country papers, nearly half of them more than 50 years old, 151 more than 100 years...
...Lemmon is no radio newcomer. He was Presidential staff radio officer on the George Washington when it took Woodrow Wilson to the Peace Conference, devised a pioneer ship-to-shore telephone service for that trip, made a fortune from his patent on single-dial radio control and twenty-odd other radio inventions. Also a broadcaster, he is founder president of the World Wide Broadcasting Foundation which owns and operates non-profit shortwave Station WIXAL (Boston), dips into his own pocket to broadcast New England enlight enment to the world...
Nowadays the Creole stories of gentle George Washington Cable seem amiable but shrewd, are taken as patent proof that Cable loved his native New Orleans. But when they first appeared he was denounced at mass meetings, damned as a "grim-humored dwarf" who had libeled the good families of the city. Southern literary tempers are not quite so testy now, but they still have a big pinch of gunpowder in them. Latest Southerner to get scorched is 35-year-old Ben Robertson of Clemson, S. C. (pop. 420), whose novel about his ancestors brought on himself the wrath...