Word: posterity
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...retreating Chinese Communists, leaving behind their legendary capital, Yenan, filtered northward to other centers of Red strength. Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist troops, commanded by stocky, dependable General Hu Tsung-nan, marched in, took down the huge poster of Communist Chieftain Mao Tse-tung flapping by the south gate, raised the twelve-rayed sun flag of the Government. After ten years, Yenan ("Permanent Peace") had fallen...
...office and unrolled the brown wrapping paper from his plans for a $500,000 mortuary to end all mortuaries. Mr. Daphne, who owns three already, was well pleased. His site was a rocky knoll off upper Market Street, its only building a battered shed decorated with an old election poster. When Wright gets through with it the place will resemble a miniature World's Fair; a glamorous cousin of Southern California's lively Forest Lawn Memorial Park (TIME...
With a week left for the University Community Fund Drive to reach its $33,000 quota, Charles A. Bliss, associate professor of Business Statistics and director of the University's Fund efforts, announced yesterday that the Drive, as indicated on a six-foot poster outside Weld Hall, has passed the half-way mark with $18,000 already contributed to the coffers...
...Communist poster showed a scene of bucolic bliss, bent old shepherds with kindly faces, happy children in smocks, trim gardens, bright cottages with cream walls and strawberry roofs. Overhead hovered menacingly a black, evil-eyed eagle. The bird was labeled "Trusts"; the Red politicos claimed that any resemblance to the American eagle was purely coincidental. Last week, after scrutinizing a row of garish, importunate posters of several parties at the Porte de St. Cloud, a man in a flimsy raincoat spat eloquently, "Ça me dégoûte" (That burns me up), he said...
Never had Manhattan's tawdry 52nd Street, "Swing Alley," been so loud with such brassy bad taste. Eager visitors to the former Main Line of American jazz stood uncertainly before the cellar joints housed in lugubrious brownstones, read the screaming poster promises of the "terrific" stuff inside, but usually hurried on when they heard the noise coming out the door. There were a few familiar names-"Hot Lips" Page, Maxine Sullivan, Georg Brunis-but few fresh performances. The street was full of has-beens and never-wases. It took a tin-eared hepcat to stand it. But last week...