Word: clattering
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...chronic bickering between couples composed of one who likes it on all the time and another who does not. In fact, perhaps surprisingly, not everybody likes air conditioning. The necessarily sealed rooms or buildings make some feel claustrophobic, cut off from the real world. The rush, whir and clatter of cooling units annoys others. There are even a few eccentrics who object to man-made cool simply because they like hot weather. Still, the overwhelming majority of Americans have taken to air conditioning like hogs to a wet wallow...
Nine times a year Mitch raises a deafeningly militant clatter, pumping from his venerable machine 1,800 copies of the latest issue of the Underground Grammarian, which must rank as the most inflammatory broadsheet to come out of Philadelphia since Tom Paine published Common Sense...
...restaurant in Manhattan, at which, another Revlon executive recalls, the clatter of dishes kept drowning out Revson's words, and Revson could scarcely fathom Bergerac's accent; neither understood much of what the other said. Bergerac remembers asking Revson at another meeting: "Why do you want somebody like me? I have been associated for a long time with basically technical products, so I know a fair amount about factories, marketing and technical engineering, but ..." Revson's reply: "I know all that, but you have one thing this company needs. You know how to make money...
...blow for the do-it-yourselfers, and strike another for the love of free discussion, which along with a few proffered dollars convinced us at The Crimson to print a newspaper that is being billed as the Summer School's alternative to this paper. But even as the clatter of the press was subsiding at the end of the inaugural run, the sight of the newly printed journal was enough to inspire just a trace of uneasiness in many of the Crimson editors present...
...laminated covers and sprightly interiors belie their origins. Eighteen years ago, after shuttling around Manhattan, the Cirkers settled on Varick Street, a glum manufacturing area south of Greenwich Village. The industrial pallor of Dover's office walls suggests a place where parking tickets are paid, and the low clatter of sorting machines is more reminiscent of post office than publisher. But within those corridors the search for new volumes is as lively and noisy as a fox hunt. Some 200 employees are engaged in the tracing of new sources, designing covers and books, filling mail orders and printing...