Word: shirts
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Jilson Setters, the 75-year-old fiddler whom Miss Thomas took to Lon don a year ago to perform in Albert Hall. Jilson Setters has earned wide publicity for Miss Thomas' folksong society. When he arrived in Manhattan to sail his bag gage consisted of one extra shirt, a quilt his grandmother had made, a gourd for a drinking cup, a corncob pipe and his fiddle wrapped in an oilcloth poke. He came, he said, from Lost Hope Hollow and he was going to see the King. Ashlanders have since said that there is no such place as Lost...
Should the Guild put aside its "white collar complex" and affiliate with the American Federation of Labor, like the shirt-sleeved compositors upstairs and the overalled pressmen down? The convention sidestepped that fundamental question by adopting the proposal of its president, shaggy, drawling Heywood Broun, to postpone discussion for a year. Then the delegates opened their arms in welcome to their newest hero...
...philosophical, capable, generous. In due time Cartoonist Gray lifted her from squalor by letting her be adopted by a fabulously rich, middle-aged character named Daddy Warbucks. Daddy had fleets of yachts and airplanes, platoons of liveried footmen around his palatial home, wore a dinner jacket and gleaming diamond shirt stud to breakfast. Unspoilable Annie accepted her new fortune only as means to spread happiness among the poor, but Editor Patterson took an instant dislike to Daddy Warbucks. Who, he inquired, could get interested in a rich orphan? He ordered Daddy Warbucks banished. Harold Gray refused. To show this defiant...
...Commander Oliver Stillingfleet Locker-Lampson, son of the poet Frederick Locker, was host to Albert Einstein eight months ago he was so convinced that Nazi agents would attempt to murder the benign German scientist that he mounted a guard of gamekeepers over him. Lately the blatant manifestations of black-shirted British Fascist Sir Oswald Mosley have filled Commander Locker-Lampson with wild alarm. He rose in the House of Commons last week to introduce a bill that would not only deprive Sir Oswald of his uniform, but would strip the shirt from his distinguished mother, the very dignified Katharine Maud...
...penthouse a few doors off lower Fifth Avenue. There every morning he would digest the daily newspapers arranged for him by a secretary. He might go out to luncheon with a banker, or speed to Washington for a White House press conference. In the afternoon, working in shirt-sleeves and puffing a pipe, he would write his daily 1,200 word dispatch in longhand. His secretary would pick up a private telephone to Western Union to put it on the cables...