Word: yellow
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Want to Be Chicken." Assistant Police Chief Eugene Smith, in charge at the high school, watched the crowd sharply, began to feel a sense of purpose and organization, noted that "half the troublemakers were from out of town." A girl in a yellow skirt talked to a schoolboy, his books in one hand, a gallon jug with two lively brown mice in the other. "If you want to be chicken," said the girl, "go on in." The boy smiled shamefacedly -and went to school. The Central High School class bell rang at 8:45-and at almost that instant...
...prayers became less formal, for Neapolitans consider their patron almost a member of the family. "Come on, guappone [Neapolitan for hoodlum] . . . Cheer up, don't look so green around the gills . . ." Back in the sweating, shoving crowd a man waved a ragged arm, shouted: "Come on, yellow face, come on, lemon face!" At 9:28 the dark substance in one of the slowly turning vials began to slide along the glass, then dissolved and spurted about the container. "Miracolo! Miracolo!" cried a man in the crowd...
Bird watchers around Florida's Cape Canaveral boast each year of spotting more boat-tailed grackles, brown-headed nuthatches, yellow-shafted flickers and other species than any other group taking part in the National Audubon Society's Christmas bird count. Last week they were joined by an eager band of sky gazers bent on observing some of the most awesome birds of passage the world has seen. Lured to the Cape by advance tips that some of the promising missiles in the U.S. arsenal would be test-fired, 14 reporters and photographers stood a weeklong telescope watch over...
Indignantly denying an insinuation that she is 83, Dancer Ruth St. Denis, who will give a series of dance recitals in Manhattan this week, threw a diaphanous lemon-yellow chiffon robe about her once-famed figure, went into a couple of emotive poses (contrition, supplication), announced...
...York newspaper sent a sportswriter to one of his piano recitals and featured it as a fight between "Kid Knabe and Battling Cowell." Apart from teaching stints at Columbia and the New School for Social Research, he spends most of his time in a peeling, starkly furnished yellow clapboard house in Shady, N.Y., surrounded by instruments that testify to his lifelong passion for sounds: Persian drums, Oriental flutes, a set of four resonant Pyrex bowls that he used in his Symphony No. 11 ("When my wife and I are out shopping," says Cowell, "we always strike things speculatively...