Word: truck
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...smoky flames began roaring up through a two-story house in a mean section of Newark, N. J. one afternoon last week, a passing coal truckman named John Wilson knew at once how to save the three Negroes he saw waggling their arms at an upstairs window. Backing his truck up to the house. Driver Wilson geared in the motor to start elevating one end of the body. When it was nearly level with the window, he scrambled up, broke the pane with his shovel. "Hey!" he bellowed, "Jump, jump into the coal...
Three goggle-eyed blackamoors knelt by a bed, swaying and chanting: "Peace, peace, it is truly wonderful, Father. Peace, peace, Father. You will save us, Father. You are God, Father. Father Divine is God, God, God." When they heard the truck driver's voice, one of the Negroes walked to the broken window, firmly drew the shade...
...luxury of a private studio for the first time in his life two months ago. He knocked the partition out between two small rooms. Always wearing high, stiff collars, he goes fishing whenever possible, likes billiards and tinkering his ancient Chandler automobile. Art groups he studiously avoids, has no truck with young people who paint abstractions. The abstract quality in his own paintings he hints at in his titles. A picture is apt to be called not Stonington Harbor, but Pertaining to Stonington Harbor...
...River, ground to a halt at the great Bronx Terminal Market. Foodhandlers, working under arc lights, stopped to stare and pound their frozen hands together, as out of the car emerged a small, swart Napoleonic figure wrapped in a greatcoat. The man mounted, with assistance, the tailboard of a truck, took a paper from his pocket. Two shivering policemen braced their shoulders, put bugles to their chapped lips, sounded assembly. Half way through the call one bugle gave a despairing wail, froze tight. Provision men came running from all sides to see the show. The man in the greatcoat began...
...Haru was a farmer's daughter. She said things like "Hai-hai!" and "O-i!" and "Ma-a!" So did everybody else in Takiya. They understood each other perfectly. They wanted no truck with newfangled gadgets like alarm clocks that went ji-ji-ji-ji. What they really liked was the noise of the silkworms feeding in the loft, the village bell calling to some occasion of innocent merriment...