Word: policeman
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...affecting if it were not for the piteous way in which the heroine, after having been told by the hospital that her baby is dead, and having been spurned by her distracted husband, comes back to the wards with the threat that her husband is coming soon with a policeman, to force them to relinquish her sick child...
...members of England's famed Fabian Society, Beatrice and Sidney Webb have grown old together in the Socialist faith. Their compendious, accurate, statistical books have been their well-brought-up children. As busy as ants', and no noisier, they have never mounted a soapbox nor slapped a policeman in their lives. Bernard Shaw was the wisecracking Fabian whip; the Webbs were the wheel horses. Climax to their plodding career came in 1929, when the Labor Government made Sidney Webb Lord Passfield, put him in the Cabinet as Secretary of State for the Colonies & Dominions. Though the Webbs...
...Patchen's language dates him as definitely as a Eugenie bonnet: These withered times prepare no turkish-bath. . . . We can't get there by taxicab or sentiment. . . . Glory squashed in the hinge of a history. . . . 2) When lucidly emotional he writes an angry Letter to a Policeman in Kansas City. 3) When not making experimental "statements," he hymns the Revolution. 4) He knows when he has created such a mighty line as We hear the dark curve of eternity go coughing down the hills. Net result of these clues: the no-longer-so-nervous reader forms the opinion...
...after this great concession, there is little else that one can say for the cinematic "Rose Marie." "Naughty Marietta" prepared one for seeing Nelson act quite brusquely toward his lady, but this picture sees him almost morose. Nelson is meant to be a Canadian Royal Mounted Policeman. And it is just a little jarring to see the Mountie in a fervent embrace with Jeanette on the mountainside, and then, the very next shot, to see him tearing from her arms her criminal brother, with no visible pangs of remorse. Duty, and all that, of course-but it really should have...
...reporter has yet succeeded in fully describing a Toscanini concert. The players suddenly become amazingly alert. The Maestro flicks his baton, establishes the pace. His left hand may rest easily on his hip at first. Soon it pleads for eloquence, stands out like a policeman's warning when he wants a pianissimo, quivers over his heart when he begs for special feeling. Front row subscribers in last week's audience occasionally heard a husky croaking sound. Toscanini was singing as he always sings when his orchestra plays to please...