Word: wintered
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...fall of 1938, Joe Kennedy worked with the appeasers, and although his faith was badly shaken during the Munich crisis, hoped settlement would be made, told Americans there would be no war in 1938. Last winter he changed tunes. With William Christian Bullitt, U. S. Ambassador to France, he became a prophet of doom, a skeleton at the feast. Again & again he croaked warnings that 1939 was a year of war. Certain it was that Kennedy was in Franklin Roosevelt's mind last Easter, when in bidding good-by to the citizens of Warm Springs, the President said...
...forget to stop when he reached Russia, and to collect his slice of Poland without fighting, reopen the trans-Poland rail line from Minsk to Berlin, if & when the conquest was complete. Between the Poles and Stalin still lay the Pripet Marshes where they could hole up for the winter, await the outcome of their Allies' effort in the West...
...protect its staff, London's Bank of England last winter built an underground air raid shelter. Last fortnight, bank members in charge of Air Raid Precautions sent an elaborate health questionnaire to all employes to find out if they could withstand prolonged imprisonment in the narrow, crowded shelter. Among the questions: "Do you suffer from claustrophobia...
...this condition has long been the Los Angeles Museum of History, Science and Art. Supported by the County of Los Angeles, it has boasted a beautiful lawn, a superb collection of fossils, and, since the last one was fired early in Depression, no art curator at all. Last winter critics of all this, principally the Los Angeles Times' able art reviewer Arthur Millier, were joined by Los Angelenos who beheld the glories of art in San Francisco and were abashed. In February Los Angeles County responded by snagging, as its new art curator, Roland McKinney, the serious, easy-mannered young...
Prize pupil of Denyn is Manhattan's Kamiel Lefevere. Daily he climbs the 335 feet to his crow's-nest in the Riverside Tower, dons his gloves and thumps his way through a bingety-bonging symphony. In winter the freezing wind howls a dismal obbligato through the Gothic masonry around his booth. In summer