Word: shacks
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Noticing a "For Rent" sign on a vacant farmhouse near Chicago's suburban Deerfield, a passerby stopped in to look around. In the backyard he heard feeble whimpers coming from a little shack, smashed a window. Braving a nauseous stench, he crawled inside, found six Scotch terriers huddled in a corner. Obviously near death from stifling and starvation, the six little dogs were rotting bags of bones, their teeth and gums infected, their bodies covered with shiny black spots where their hair had fallen...
Wintering with his household of nine on an Arizona ranch last year, Novelist Priestley spent an intensely ruminative 20 minutes one midnight in his writing shack analyzing himself, his U. S. travels, his possible travels in the Hereafter. His conclusions, considerably expanded and set down in Midnight on the Desert, show the familiar Priestley discursiveness, less of his easy-going humor than usual and a not-always recognizable U. S. On that night he felt like "a half-starved little coyote . . . howling to the stars...
...book has its basis, as the title suggests, in thoughts which passed through the author's mind one night in the desert. Priestley had spent the winter of 1935 in America, and on the eve of his departure, he goes to his shack in the desert to collect his manuscripts and notes. As he passes over the scattered pages, memories of their significance come into his mind. With this as the structure of his book, he goes on with no definite order to give his memoirs and thoughts about various incidents and phases of his travels in this country...
...Harvardian who had escorted me from New York. Soon I could catch glimpses of a park full of buildings. The square and the other side of the street along which I was walking were more decently and consistently planned than the average American small town, where frame shacks and ferro-concrete skyscrapers jostle each other. In Cambridge (you must get used to the fact that there is a Cambridge other than that which exists for your convenience) there is neither skyscraper nor shack, but a lot of demure, Puritan red-brick, keeping its undistinguished self to itself...
...plays an occasional round of golf, goes duck-shooting several times each season. One of these forays occurred one afternoon early last month. He and his shooting crony, Rev. ZëBarney Phillips, chaplain of the Senate, went down to the Deep Hole Point Club, a rough wooden shack on the "Old Dawdon Place" near Occoquan, Va., 35 mi. southwest of Washington...