Word: yellowing
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...scheduled to play at the Coliseum there before an audience of some 3,000. The evening of the concert came, almost the hour-no Leginska. It was recollected that when she left the train she had said: "I don't want to ride in your old yellow cabs. I can't play the piano tonight. I want my symphony orchestra." When she went to the hall to practice: "I don't like this old barn. I won't play the piano in this old building." Next day a note was discovered addressed to Manager...
...days when U. S. journalism was young and yellow, newspapermen often quarreled violently and in public. One editor would refer to his colleague as "that scurrile cur, that . . . slander-monger Drennelthorpe, of the Courier Gazette . . . whereupon Mr. Drennelthorpe would visit the writer with a bowie knife and a hickory cudgel. Every reporter was trained to use a shotgun, and in most composing rooms a portrait of Andrew Jackson looked down with sombre eyes upon a neat rack of buggy-whips. Newspaper men still quarrel. Most of them do so with a certain reticence. Respecting the dignity of their differences, they...
...purely historical question, a categorical conclusion as to who was actually to blame for the war is quite impossible at this time. Until the Austrian Red Book, the French Yellow Book, the German White Book, the English Blue Book and the Russian Orange Book are fully known, and until all the commissioners, ambassadors, directors, emperors and consuls implicated have furnished their memoirs, there can be no approximation of the truth--a truth which will be as variegated as the collection of tomes from which it will be derived...
...menceau. "An Asiatic? At first glance he seems one . . . with his yellow skin, his saddle-nose between prominent cheekbones, and his Tartar moustache . . . a bully out of Brittany . . . an all too aged Cyrano . . . sitting by the fireside, in his peasant boots and grey suede gloves . . . uttering harsh words of scorn . . . the Prussianest of Frenchmen! . . . I could show you letters of German generals and princes who sigh: 'If only we had a German Clémenceau...
Pasadena was flooded with sunshine. Businessmen swelled with pride, policemen with importance. Through the streets it was raining roses-white ones, red ones, pink ones, yellow ones, in bunches and basketfuls, automobiles full, motor trucks full. To the gay Rose Bowl went Pasadena, 300 gorgeous floats and a hilarious walking multitude, for the 37th annual Tournament of Roses on New Year...