Word: screeching
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...York's prodigious crash-bang-rattle-screech, in the estimation of Health Commissioner Shirley Wilmott Wynne, engenders juvenile neuroses. The city's Noise Abatement Commission has found classrooms in nearly one-third of the public schools so din-ridden as to be virtually useless. In its researches the Commission (which does no actual abating but carries on investigations of noise) uses the "decibel," which measures differences between sounds and absolute silence. One decibel represents a sound just audible. Ten decibels make one "bel" (named for the late Inventor Alexander Graham Bell), which represents roughly the amount of sound...
Three acts of Aunt Lottie are too much. Her voice, like the screech of a truck's brakes, has not only the rest of the cast but the entire audience squirming with the desire to get hands on her throat. But no one who has ever possessed an Aunt Lottie will say she is an exaggeration. Able Actress Lowell, with able support, even makes plausible the few moments when she is pitiable. Brisk if undistinguished dialog helps the play; a farcical ending hurts it. It is a fine play for everyone's Aunt Lottie...
...street car, they might be able to cause other sound-waves to neutralize the din. Last week Dr. J. P. Foltz, engineer, invited scientists to the Westinghouse Research Laboratories, East Pittsburgh, Pa. to show them a small contraption which could analyze the street car's rattle-bang-clank-screech. The machine consists of a microphone, an amplifier, a filter circuit which allows only one wavelength at a time to pass to the meter for measuring. Since the machine weighs only 60 lb., is independent of outside current, it can easily be transported from one noisy place to another...
...usual "March Blizzard" tucked south-east England under a twelve-inch snow blanket last week, stopped air services to the Continent, forced the Admiralty to keep coastal guns firing at Dover, because above the screech of the gale ordinary fog signals could not be heard...
...restless day in the African Kamerun. Elephants had passed. The apes fidgeted in the trees. Along came a hunter. Through the leaves he sighted a sleek black form. Game. He shot. A screech, not animal, and out of the branches flopped a Negress, dead, naked, devoid of tribal tattoos. Apparently apes had reared her from infancy. Clumsily she had learned to climb, to sleep hammock-wise across two stout branches, to eat fruits, to jabber, to live their life...