Word: sat
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...which under the chairmanship of Dean Landis has obtained over 11,000 signatures, was blocked by the Council on trivial technical ground. Mr. McNamara, president of the body, declared that Cambridge "was not going to be turned into a laboratory of guinea pigs for a lot of theorists" and sat down on his political haunches. Even when the ballot law commission certified the petition of Saturday, Mr. McNamara refused to call a special meeting because of an "interfering" ordinance. Mayor Lyons also did his part: to Dean Landis's plea that he call a meeting, as chief executive, he answered...
...hoary monuments to Brahmin gentility, that still stands like the Great Pyramid, is the Boston Symphony Orchestra. At its Friday afternoon concerts in venerable Symphony Hall, bald, spade-bearded oldsters and their classically corseted wives sit complacently, laved in the patrician strains of Beethoven and Brahms. So have they sat every week since the late Major Henry Lee Higginson, in 1881, materialized the expensive idea that Boston ought to have a good symphony orchestra. That idea cost Major Higginson a million dollars...
Manager Charles Leo ("Gabby") Hartnett of the Chicago Cubs, one of the greatest catchers of all time, sat in the dugout at St. Louis' Sportsman's Park last week with two fingers wrapped in gauze. Nervously he watched his teammates, beaten by the St. Louis Cardinals in the first game of a doubleheader, whack out 17 hits for a 10-to-3 victory and thereby clinch the National League pennant on the next to the last day of the season. In that split second between the final put-out and the first whoops of his teammates, grinning Gabby...
...minding his nuggets in a California gold mine, visited his relatives in Manhattan. California's Alice Marble, U. S. women's champion two years ago, was a house guest of the Socialite Gilbert Kahns at Oyster Bay, Long Island. Little Sarah Palfrey Fabyan, twinkle-toed Bostonian, sat around at the Forest Hills Inn drinking tea. California's Donald Budge, world's No. 1 amateur tennist, and his square-headed shadow, Doubles Partner Gene Mako, spent their days at the movies and listening to swing bands...
Last night the Vagabond sat in his New room and reminisced. As idle driblets of thought and kaleidoscopic memories wafted their feather-like way through his brain, his gaze drifted around the many walls which encircle his new penthouse cubicle. Before him the desk, the calendar, the typewriter. Well enough; they had been so in the past. And there was the Falstaffian old leather Morris chair with its spinster companion, the ever slightly drunken bridge lamp, leaning confidentially over its shoulder--looking the same as ever. But will the old combination still breed the same pleasant spawn of thoughts...