Word: swart
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...steam shovel, he gouged out the first scoopful of sand in his $13,000,000 project. The hiss of steam as he inexpertly spilled half the giant spoon's earth near the waiting truck was not less searingly exultant than the blast that came from the swart, little Mayor of New York: "This will be to Newark as Kirsten Flagstad is to Gypsy Rose...
Critics paid especial attention to Todros Geller's swart, black-hooded Spanish Woman, to Macena Barton's solid black-browed Rosana in Purple, to E. Millman's Resting-two vagrants in a -phouse, one sitting on a barrel, the other lolling on a green mattress. Visitors stopped in swarms before L. J. Ambrose's Debutante, a young lady wearing nothing but white slippers being presented by her bosomy mother to a group of starched top-hatted socialites; and Michael Madsen's Statue of Hercules in Action, a picture of two affectionate moppets inspecting a statue...
...done a thousand times before during the National Labor Relations Board hearings on the Ford Motor Co. case in Detroit (TIME, July 26), Louis J. Colombo Sr., the swart, able Ford counsel, shouted one day last week: "I object." Lawyer Colombo objected to the way the Labor Board counsel was riding a Ford foreman who testified that he fired a man, not for union activity as charged, but for "gazing off into space." But Lawyer Colombo's objection was overruled by Trial Examiner John T. Lindsay. Lawyer Colombo started to say: "I am going to object every time . . ." when...
Next to the politicians, the silk stocking group which usually supports Fusion candidates liked him least, for Mayor La-Guardia has not good manners. Short, swart and tousled, with a minimum of neck and a maximum of torso, he takes off his rumpled coat and leans back in his big office chair with his feet dangling a foot from the floor, no picture of municipal dignity. When he flies off the handle, as he frequently does, his voice grows shrill, he is likely to call almost anybody names, and whatever he doesn't like is "lousy...
...years, quiet, kindly. 61-year-old Fritz Mueller, German-born Seattle meat market owner, is delivering a roast of beef to a needy friend. Outside the apartment house, which substantial Citizen Mueller owns, he is stopped by two Federal Alcohol Tax Unit agents in plain clothes-short, swart Edward T. Kelly, 35, onetime Prohibition agent, and frail, bespectacled Leonard ("Relentless") Regan, 59, Croix de guerre War veteran, longtime Prohibition agent. Agent Kelly: "Where are you going with that package?" Mueller explains, asks why he is being followed. A scuffle takes place. Agent Kelly fells Mueller with something which witnesses later...