Word: truckful
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Decision was reached. Miss Hilliard's tent went to Master Levings, who was very low. Long distance to Manhattan roused the Oxygen Therapy Service, ordered them to truck one of Dr. Alvan Leroy Barach's collapsible oxygen chambers to Glenn H. Curtiss Airport, North Beach, L. I. A Curtiss-Wright Travel Air was waiting, with Stewart Reiss as pilot...
That was not all the Governor did. When the army got to Harrisburg he made them a speech, told them he sympathized with their demonstration, fed them all, provided shelter for the night. Father Cox's red truck rolled up to the outskirts of Washington in a torrential rain at 10:15 p. m. Pulling his black weeds about him, he picked his way into a drug store, ate a sandwich, drank a glass of milk, telephoned Washington's chief of police that they were there. That night some of his men slept in the District National Guard Armory...
Goose-stepping stiffly across the Yoyogi parade ground in Tokyo, column upon column of Japanese troops passed a reviewing stand upon which stood his owl-eyed Majesty. Emperor Hirohito. After the last ammunition truck and field kitchen had rumbled by. the Son of Heaven stepped down, entered a state coach and, escorted by a squadron of lancers, rolled back to the Imperial Palace. Just outside the Palace grounds the cavalcade turned in through the Sakuradamon or Cherry Village Gate. A Mr. James L. Vierhus, employe of a Peoria. Ill., tractor firm, was standing on the curb. Afterwards he told what...
...evening in the past few weeks have viewed an interesting sight: a line of shabby men (a few women among them), chins deep in coat collars, hands deep in pockets, shuffling ever so slowly around the edge of Longacre Square. At the head of the line is a large truck with electric lights ablaze, from which each one receives a sandwich, a doughnut, a cup of coffee. On the side of the truck a sign blazons: "New York American Christmas & Relief Fund Lunch Wagon." For placing a breadline (the American calls it a "sandwich line") in the most con- spicuous...
...last snow flies in New England. Hulking pungs slide off quietly into the slashing behind the pump horse. The new town truck drones along the highway casting up furrows of white foam. With a sharp jar as the sled strikes ground, a cheerful gnome starts off belly flopper down the hill to school. A tall pine stands out in the pasture with the blackness of a widow in her weeds. There is the delicate, syncopated tinkle as a Morgan in a red cutter swerves through town. The mountains stare down upon the valleys grown old, and spare, and bleak over...