Word: trolleys
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...with paroxysms of joy. Tears made little canyons down her cheeks and spots on Mr. Hollisheimer's cuff. Finally she was reduced to a jellylike mass, from which issued increasingly faint gurgles as a gun went off in someone's face, or a man got run over by a trolley car. Mr. Hollisheimer gently closed her eyes, and she breathed more easily. Mr. Sever thinks he made a mistake. She should have been allowed to laugh herself to death...
...Adventurous Age. When George Tyler announced the return of Mrs. Patrick Campbell after a twelve-year absence from the U. S., greybeards revived the legends of her fiery temperament and explosive tantrums. They recalled how, in 1902, she ordered tanbark dumped on the trolley tracks outside the Republic Theatre to quiet the din of cars banging over the switch, how vigilant politicians made it a national issue, how Mrs. Pat made it a quarter of a million dollars' worth of publicity. They were shocked when "the glorious madwoman" stepped before the footlights last week. She had become majestic...
...whistling it, beating time to it. At the end of the second act you will hardly be able to wait until you reach the lobby to give your own special version of it. And when you go home (the play has threoacts), the left hind wheel of the trolley, which will be flat, will rhythmically impress that tune on your soul, if you have one, for ever and ever...
...Huntington goes on buying things. At San Marino he breakfasts at seven and reads for an hour, turning the pages carefully. When he is in Los Angeles or Manhattan he goes to his office and spends a few hours with his railroads, his villages, cliffs, painted motor buses, trolley-cars, skyscrapers, his coupons, clerks, cigars and the polite young men who look after his money and call him "Sir." It is pleasant to feel that these things now largely take care of themselves. It is pleasanter to be Maecenas than Croesus...
...Frick, never a talkative man, said: "Success simply calls for hard work and devotion to your business, day and night." He grew old in that one trite and silly sentence. Looking back at youth, he could only see the smolder of coke fires, hear the tinny strum of a trolley going into a mine, hard work, devotion. No one can say that Frick did not work hard. No one can say that he might not have been successful with no luck at all. But the fact remains that, in the panic of 1873, a lot of Pennsylvania bituminous coal lands...