Word: thrustings
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...give him what he wants. In Nazi Germany this is done by keeping large numbers of men under arms, ready to strike on short notice. Nazi economy has long been attuned to a state of semi-mobilization, but other countries, which must be ready to meet any quick German thrust, find it expensive...
...struggle for "democracy in education" the Teachers' Union is by its charter denied the right to strike. In the fight for less topside control at Harvard, however, it has used tellingly the chief weapon at its disposal: the keen sword thrust of reasoned criticism. And behind that thrust are many of Harvard's much talked of "younger men." The Union's fight for the retention of Walsh and Swoezy may have been in vain. But this year's trenchant proposals for tenure reform and complete departmental democracy may cut more ice with the powers that be than the Faculty Committee...
Across the street in a filling station, Otis Gillette, the proprietor, loaded his rifle and thrust it into the hands of Tipton Cox, 17, a high-school boy who had scuttled in for shelter. Cox, like all the boys in town, knew and admired Earl. Unlike Earl he had never shot a big rifle, but he lay on the floor, took aim. As Durand spied him and raised a smoking rifle, Cox fired. Earl Durand crumpled with a grunt, hit in the chest. He crawled back into the bank, put his revolver to his own temple, pulled the trigger. Bank...
...general purposes, Mr. William McGeorge of Kent, Ohio would serve as Mr. Average U. S. Bowler. He is 53, looks 40; has a Celtic thrust to his under jaw; is lean, lanky, straight; believes bowling is the best possible exercise. A white-collar man with an electrical firm, he has a wife and three big sons, lives in a simple house on College Street. He bowls Wednesday and Friday nights with the Portage County All Stars and in the Kent-Ravenna City League. When he bowls in important competition he wears a shiny satin bowling shirt with a regimental-striped...
...surrealistic sight of a Parisian racing through his native streets with his head thrust through a cane chair-seat, a pair of garters streaming from his back and a license plate and a pot of vegetables in either hand, is not a sign of galloping national debility due to continental complications. Frenchmen know, and others soon learn, that the galloper is merely out to win the 200-franc ($5.30) prize, offered each afternoon by the private radio station Paste Parisien in its Course au Trésor, a radio scavenger hunt patterned after one which Paris loved in the droll...