Word: scalps
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Sharpest tomahawk to be flipped in Mr. Ickes' direction came from Scripps-Howard Columnist Westbrook Pegler, who devoted three columns to Mr. Ickes and what Pegler called the "Social-Democratic party." Quick to claim his scalp, Columnist Pegler whooped : "In this world every guy has a sign on at least one other guy, and Harold Ickes is my guy." The Pegler war dance: ". . . Mr. Ickes is so cheap that when he gets sick or wants a rest he muscles into the Naval Hospital. . . . When he pulled that crack . . . about how Willkie made his money . . . I wanted...
Hatchet Man No. 3 was New Hampshire's Senator Styles Bridges, who made suggestively scalp-knife noises by explaining that the Republican National Committee could not afford to answer Secretary Ickes on the radio because it was "refusing to chisel funds from New Deal business victims with a campaign handbook racket. . . ." Getting worked up to his war dance, Senator Bridges ululated: "Who is this Ickes who talks so big-at a safe distance-about Hitler? In his own right Ickes is a Hitler in short pants. . . . A professional rabble rouser. . . . A political hatchet man. . . . Like Hitler...
...Nominee Henry Wallace and Attorney General Robert Jackson put on an exhibition of boomerang throwing for cameramen (see cut). Before News-photographer Byron Rollins, who was snapping them, could get out of the way, one of the boomerangs came back, knocked him down, cut a deep gash in his scalp...
...proponent of lime juice was captured by cannibals. From shipboard that night his men watched the telltale barbecue fires. Next day they cowed the Kanakas into surrendering the indigestible portions that remained of the Pacific's greatest explorer-his hands, some bones from his legs, part of his scalp, part of his skull...
Last week, when "OF Dizz"; got his walking papers, he was in a Chicago hos pital recovering from a scalp wound, received in typical Dean fashion: the door of an automobile in which he was riding had jerked open, toppled him out on his head. -We'll be back -don't forget that,-chirped Mrs. Dean, explaining that the fabulous cripple who can no longer pitch overhand had asked to be sent to Tulsa, where, under the hot sun (most Tulsa games are played at night), he would develop a sidearm delivery, make a come back next year...