Word: cottoned
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...nation's annual plague of grasshoppers was beginning early last week in Mississippi, where the hoppers were crunching through corn and cotton fields, eating everything in sight except the evilest-tasting weeds. Farmers were fighting them in an approved modern manner: with bait of wheat bran flavored with white arsenic...
...later books, sharing their futile power for pointless and appalling mischief with such later creations as raffish, rascally Basil Seal, motorbiking Father Rothschild (a member of a younger branch of the banking family, who had become a Jesuit priest), and the American evangelist, Mrs. Melrose Ape. With her cotton-winged angels (Chastity, Divine Discontent, et al.), Mrs. Ape wowed high society by singing her inspirational hymn: There ain't no flies on the Lamb...
...three years, British athletes had gone from bad to worse. They just could not win. Even their race horses got beaten by interlopers from France. Last week, when 275 golfers teed off in the cherished British Open, few Britons had much hope. Their best bet was acid Henry Cotton, now an old veteran of 41. It had been 14 long years since he had cracked a ten-year U.S. monopoly by winning his first British Open...
...that thought which had caused the real opposition to his nomination. Though nearly all Republicans respected him for his administrative skill, and admired him for his ability to command the loyalty of top-notch aides, a variety of Republicans felt he was not the kind of man they could cotton to. Old Guardists could love John Bricker, young folks could idealize Harold Stassen. others could be devoted to Statesman Vandenberg. Dewey, it was variously said, was too mechanically precise to be liked, too watchfully unbending to be confided in, too coldly ambitious to be loved. Few if any Republicans doubted...
...dozen cotton choppers on an East Texas farm dropped their hoes and hightailed it for the piney woods. One of those crazy flying machines that stand still in the air was right on top of them. But they stopped dead when the thing yelled at them: "Hello, down there. This is Lyndon Johnson, candidate for the U.S. Senate, dropping in to say good morning...