Word: streetcars
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...these artists as "The Eight" U. S. individualists. None of them changed so much in the next ten years as Glackens. With much observation his versatile eye became intensely selective. As late as 1912 he painted a simple little picture of a snowy square and a lady hailing a streetcar (see cut) which perfectly evoked an atmosphere, mood and period. Then he selected a lighter palette, and from about 1913 on, Renoir became the dominant influence in his work. Many artists have come a cropper under that influence. Glackens succeeded...
...Bone won his first election, to the State Legislature, as a Farmer-Laborite. In 1928 he ran for the Republican nomination for Congress, losing, he says, because on election day the power mysteriously failed on Tacoma's privately owned streetcar line, keeping humble voters at home. In 1932 he beat conservative Lawyer Stephen F. Chadwick, present National Commander of the American Legion, for the Democratic Senatorial nomination...
...Germany, The Netherlands. In Belgium, which was hardest hit, damage was estimated at more than $1,000,000. Seismological instruments in Brussels were broken by the violence of the temblor. In Ghent, one wall of the Palais de Justice was badly cracked, and a pedestrian was killed by a streetcar running wild. At Ostend, a British police band gallantly marched on, playing while the street heaved...
Chairman McNinch comes from Charlotte, N. C., a thriving city of which he was twice mayor. A small but fearless Presbyterian Elder, in 1918 he armed a number of citizens as special police officers during a bloody streetcar strike, survived a recall vote that followed the disorders and picked up a local reputation for political effectiveness. In 1928 he jumped the Democratic Party to work for Mr. Hoover. Mr. McNinch is against liquor (he keeps a vacuum jug of milk on his desk) and Mr. Al Smith is not. President Hoover rewarded Frank McNinch with a seat on the Federal...
...corner, ready to pounce out at the customer's slightest beckoning. Packard, Pierce, Lincoln, and Buick have sought refuge a block away, their white tires carefully left an inch from the curb. James or William are reading their tabloids and ogling passing maids and nurses. But the streetcar still runs. It rumbles up to the great, grey building, shudders to a violent halt, relaxes with a compressed air sign, and allows passengers to scurry off. Two women, plump, middle-aged, the kind who dress the same for every occasion, every season, every time they go out of the house...