Word: plains
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Never has a squad more deserved to win. They have met three teams, all of which were faster and bigger and more replete with replacements. Yet in all three encounters Harvard has out-hit, out-driven, and just plain out-spirited the opponents. In all of these games no one has left the field doubting for a moment which team was the better coached. Coach Harlow is the finest type of Harvard man, and Harvard has adopted him for her own. Those on his team look up to "Dick" so much that when they lose, they feel that they have...
Last week the convention and The Club met simultaneously at Houston, Texas. Assembled in the lofty new Coliseum were 600 career men of Labor. Mostly they were gentlemen toilers who had worked up to union office and comfortable expense accounts. Plain men seated along pine tables, they daily went through the conventional motions indicated by their President William Green, a plain man whose career had been a model of its kind. At evening the placid delegates rejoined their wives, retired to the movies or enjoyed simple sociability in hotel rooms. A minority frequented the convention's one play spot...
Last week, His Eminence, born a Sudeten Austrian, preached a plain-spoken anti-Nazi sermon at a youth service at St. Stephen's, exhorted 10,000 worshipers to "give outward testimony" of their faith. The "outward testimony" soon took the form of Catholic demonstrations before Nazi sympathizers. The next evening Nazi groups struck back. Storming the archiepiscopal palace adjoining the Cathedral, they hurled stones through the windows, pushed past a gateman, entered the palace itself and indulged in a little looting. Cardinal Innitzer, praying in his private chapel throughout the tumult, was reported to have been slightly injured...
...three years ago, when she published her obscure, mystical novel, He Sent Forth a Raven. A difficult, humorless book, it had nothing of the earthiness and quiet backwoods simplicity that made her first novel, The Time of Man, a best-seller and a critic's favorite. Instead of plain Kentucky hill folks, its characters were strange, unreal philosophers who explained at great length, in highly polished sentences, that they did not know what it was all about. It thus became that most embarrassing of literary performances- an extremely bad book by a distinguished writer-and critics, murmuring politely about...
This week, when she publishes Black Is My Truelove's Hair, it is plain that Author Roberts has escaped from her blind alley in brilliant fashion. Her new novel reads like a folk tale of the Kentucky countryside, depends on no archaic trappings or high-flown language for its effect, takes place in a recognizable world of village gossip, youthful lovemaking, Kentucky feuds, with characters who are farmers, truck drivers, wise widows and runaway girls. The telephone and radio have reached Miss Roberts' countryside but the people have not changed much: they are superstitious, religious, poetic, great musicians...