Word: speeded
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...four-pronged hook from its belly on a cable, bore down and passed over the rope between the poles. Out of the Stinson tumbled a bag of Coatesville mail. Neatly, the dangling hook snagged the stretched rope with the mailbag attached (see cut). As the monoplane picked up speed and began to climb the mail clerk in the cabin hauled in the bag by a winch, quickly had it aboard for sorting...
...page pamphlet titled Lest We Regret, Travelers' copy writers drove home the meaning of D. U. to the heavy-footed driver. Energy increases as the square of speed. Thus, if speed is doubled, energy is multiplied four times; if tripled, is multiplied nine times. If 25 miles an hour is the speed of one D. U., 35 is that of two, 50 miles of four, 60 of six and 75 of nine...
Written in collaboration with swimmer Guy Larcom, Jr., the volume contains numerous illustrations of natatorial technique a la Ulen. Speed aces Charlie Hutter and Willie Kendall spent many minutes last year posing for pictures to show how real swimmers use their arms and legs. There is also a chapter devoted to women swimmers, profusely illustrated, of course...
...measures and Herb Haymer's fragment at the end . . . Decca records, having lost Jimmy Lunceford, goes out and digs up a band by the name of Floyd Ray that not only plays like Lunceford, but shows possibilities of becoming much better . . . For drumming with all of Krupa's speed and flash but with taste and drive, listen to Cozy Cole on Callaway's "Ratamacue" (Vocalion) . . . Not swing, but still very funny is the Commodore release of "Private Jives," a parody on Noel Coward's "Private Lives" . . . Word also slips 'round that Vocalion has succumbed to the album craze, turning...
...genius, Edgar Wallace did not reach maturity until he was past 40. His full flowering came after the War. A new publisher saw Wallace's mass-production possibilities. He divorced his mousy wife, married his shrewd secretary, 23 years his junior, shaved his Old Bill mustache, hired a speed typist, slept a maximum five or six hours a night, primed himself for writing on gallons of tea, handfuls of cigarettes. By 1928 he was making $250,000 a year, owned a string of race horses (they lost as consistently as he did at poker), a fleet of shiny...