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That this was obviously untrue did not affect the case. There were shrill cries of "Wait till he gets back from London!" "Let's string...
...first invention?before he was six and living at his native Smiljan. a Croatian village, in what is now Jugoslavia? was something the like of which he had never actually seen. He pictured it curved, pointed at one end, fastened to a string at the other. The child modeled a piece of iron according to his vision and thus had the hook which he needed to catch frogs. Similarly he completely visualized his induction motor, his coils and transformers, all his inventions, before he sketched and constructed them. He has unlimited confidence in his visual inventiveness. He no longer bothers...
...Tornado v. Train" (TIME, June 8) you say that "in the string of eleven Pullmans there were 119 passengers," etc. The inference is that the one man killed was a Pullman passenger. Such is not the fact. The unfortunate traveler rode in a day coach. Fear-stricken, he jumped through a window; the car a moment later was blown over on him. The Pullman Co. is proud of the fact that last year (1930) we carried 30.800,000 passengers 12,814,000,000 passenger miles (1,183,669,000 vehicle miles) and only one of these passengers was killed...
...Andover" to distinguish it from his uncle's school at Exeter.) Exeter and Andover have flourished mightily, until today they are the twin giants of prep schools in size and in prestige. Other schools are certainly more fashionable, possibly more potent scholastically, improbably more prolific in first-string athletes. But no other schools have the glamour of Exeter and Andover, whose histories are as long as their rosters of students...
...last week pulled the Empire Builder, Great Northern Railway's crack Seattle-to-Chicago limited train. It flashed across the State line, roared through Moorhead, Minn., headed for St. Paul across the prairie at 50 m.p.h. At the throttle was Engineer B. E. McKee. Behind him in the string of eleven Pullmans were 119 passengers, reading, napping, playing bridge. Beyond Moorhead, Engineer McKee eyed the sky apprehensively. It was turning black, blacker. It was shot through with greenish-yellow light. Wind clouds bellied down to earth. Without hearing its far-off rumble, he knew a tornado was near, jerked...