Word: woodenly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...females who like to keep a male on a string. Cecil Platypus is one of those males. They lived mid the pleasures of their own platypusary in New York's Bronx Zoo, where each had its own little swimming pool and private burrows. And though there was a wooden barrier built between them, Cecil knew how to get around-an achievement fostered by zoo authorities-in season. For outside Tasmania and Australia, these two furry mammals were the only platypuses in captivity, and everybody hoped that one day Cecil and Penelope would produce platykittens...
There was no training table in the dingy dressing room, and so the aging (30), beaten fighter had to lie across three wooden folding chairs. He had a bloodstained towel around his head, and he pressed an ice bag against a puffing eye. Except for a short-lived moment four years ago when some thought he had the stuff to go somewhere, Heavyweight Bob Baker, a huge, long-muscled young man from Pittsburgh, had been nothing but a ham-and-egg fighter. Last week, whipped by flashy Eddie Machen, 25, Baker realized that after 59 pro bouts, his pantry...
...when a truckload of soup stood ready to be unloaded and passed out by a detachment of police, the hungry prisoners were hammering and pounding at the rotted wooden doors that closed their cells. A few of the old doors gave way, and the suddenly freed men began freeing their fellow prisoners. "We're hungry," they shouted, and when nothing happened, they began tossing machinery and empty food carts into the courtyard. The more diligent of the inmates began making bonfire piles of stools and pallets. Others ripped off cell doors to feed the flames. As acrid fumes rose...
...only reel off the names of the Presidents in order and without a slip, but he also mastered their dates, parties, terms, major accomplishments. When he got better, his parents took him driving around the Jersey countryside. One day in nearby Elberon (pop. 985), the Frankels came across a wooden sign in the window of an old private garage, bearing the crude message...
...Althea, the road to the center court at Wimbledon and the pinnacle of women's tennis was a long one, and all uphill. She grew up in a Harlem tenement, learned the fundamentals of the game playing with crude wooden paddles on the pavements of New York. In 1950, when she was invited to play in the U.S. nationals at Forest Hills, she was leading Former Champion Louise Brough in the second round when a thunderstorm washed out the match. Next day Althea collapsed before seasoned Tennist Brough. From that match until last week, no one really knew...