Word: train
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1950-1959
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...clock in the morning, so nobody can accuse me of anything." He sipped coffee at the Café de la Paix, a favorite hangout for Artillery Captain Truman during leaves in World War I. After his short stop in Paris, he headed by train for Rome. Rolling through northern Italy, Democrat Truman grinned wryly at big regional election posters urging, "Vote Republican!" Boisterously cheered with many a "Viva Truman!" at Rome's railroad station, he was hustled to a special VIP waiting room-so fast that Bess Truman got lost in the shuffle, gained entry only after some door...
...stubborn refusal to toss beanballs, Roberts resembles the late great Walter Johnson of the lackluster Washington Senators. The "Big Train" was a self-confident competitor who occasionally went so far as to serve up fat ones to hitters suffering from nerve-racking slumps. But throwing at a batter was unthinkable. Johnson never even waited for umpires to discard scuffed balls; as soon as he saw one he tossed it aside, for fear it might force him to throw his fast one wild and injure the man at the plate...
...killing time on the road, "the one bad thing about baseball," says he. He went to every movie in town ("I don't care what's playing; I like 'em all"), slept for long hours, read the sports pages, stared blankly out of bus and train windows, sat slack-jawed in hotel lobbies...
...luck had dogged Beatty's blue-and-orange, 15-car show train from the time it rolled out of winter quarters at Deming, N. Mex. in March. Fighting bad weather and meager crowds, the once-prosperous circus had topped its $5,000 daily break-even point on only six of 43 days it had been on the road. The showdown came when the American Guild of Variety Artists pulled 55 members off the job until Beatty came through with $15,000 in back pay. Instead, black-haired, claw-scarred Beatty, 52, most famed of U.S. animal trainers, filed...
...TRAIN WAS ON TIME, by Heinrich Böll (142 pp.; Criterion; $3), carries its Eastern-front German soldier-hero to his death while he is still on furlough in the Ukraine, which is about as ironically far as the you-can't-win theme has ever been taken by a war novelist. The soldier, Andreas, is a kind of displaced poet in uniform. From the moment his leave-train begins puffing towards Przemysl one autumn day in 1943, Andreas is haunted by the irrational idea that he is a bridegroom of death being rushed into one of destiny...