Word: proudly
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...million a year in cargoes, mostly in broad daylight (shipping men politely called it pilferage). They pad stevedoring payrolls. They shake down truckers and they turn loose their bookies, loaded-dice men, six-forfive boys, and kickback collectors on the dock-wallopers for nobody knows how many more millions. Proud to Know Ya. The cops, some how, have never bothered them too much. The "hoods" get along fine with Joe Ryan, the loudmouthed lifetime boss (at$20,000 a year) of the A.F.L. International Longshoremen's Association. Some of the hoods hold cards in the union...
Labor entered the fray with a proud record: not a single parliamentary seat lost in 46 by-elections since it came to power in 1945. To fill the seat left vacant when Hammersmith's Laborite W. T. Adams died last January, Labor had picked a 33-year-old ex-R.A.F. chaplain and Oxford don named Tom Williams. Tom's father was a Welsh miner who came home permanently crippled from World War I. His mother died when he was three. By scholarships and hard work, Tom fought his way through the Universities of Wales and Oxford, picking...
...little Morris Raphael Cohen seemed definitely feebleminded. He was painfully shy, so listless, awkward, and clumsy that neighbors called him Kalyé-keh (a colloquialism for half-wit). Only his mother really knew him. "Never mind," she would say when people taunted him. "Some day they will all be proud to have talked to my Meisheleh...
Boutet de Monvel, the proud and gentle product of an age that now seems almost as remote as Charlemagne's, died in 1913, just before history presented some of his readers with the day he had in mind. "He took a long time dressing," one of his sons remembers, "and was always elegant, with a bow tie, spats, silk hat, a flower in his lapel, and always a cane...
...slum dramatist, a guttersnipe who could jingle a few words together." That was how Playwright Sean O'Casey (The Plough and the Stars, Juno and the Paycock) summarized what much of the Irish press said of him and his works. Absolutely correct, agrees O'Casey-and proud of it. He promises to spend his whole life wearing "the tattered badge of [his proletarian] tribe . . . soiled with the diseased sweat of the tenements...