Word: dearing
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Still the Chief, Judge Ulrich polished off death sentences in Moscow last week with a practiced tongue, turned up with Comrade Stalin at the fine funeral of Dear Friend Sergei...
Josef Stalin had brought the corpse of Dear Friend Sergei personally from Leningrad on a special train, its engine decorated with a huge "STALIN." After lying in stale in Moscow's onetime Nobles' Club, the corpse was cremated and the ashes poured into a bronze urn. This the Dictator and other pallbearers carried to a niche in the Kremlin wall after two hours of speechmaking. Their keynote: more and better vengeance. Cried Premier Vyacheslav Molotov: "We swear to carry on a merciless fight against every enemy of our Revolution...
...There can be no holier task than merciless punishment!" clarioned the Party newsorgan Izvestia, lapsing by a slip into pious language. All Soviet papers emphasized that as soon as Dear Friend Sergei's ashes were in their niche, Dictator Stalin mounted Lenin's Tomb beside the Kremlin wall, funeral music changed to the bray of military bands, and crack detachments of the Red Army and Gay-pay-oo troops swung past at the double while 64 airplanes filled the sky, approximately one for every Russian executed...
...harp plinks of "Just a Song at Twilight," 40 loyal crusaders trooped into a festive Manhattan dining room, burst out: "Happy birthday, dear doctor, happy birthday to you." Beaming across his dinner table on his 80th birthday was silvery, bright-eyed Dr. Charles Giffen Pease, founder-president of the Non-Smokers' Protective League. Bristling enemy of coffee, tea, cocoa, chocolates, meats, drugs, medicines and vaccination. All through the vegetarian banquet which followed, the 40 guests talked of Dr. Pease's successful campaign in 1909 to have smoking banned in New York City subways. No one had forgotten his subsequent practice...
...started with a most correct, not to say super-aristocratic, country week-end at which there was an unaccountable surfeit of gooseberry desserts and one unaccountably incorrect guest. Poor dear old-fashioned Daisy suspected her daughter Terry of an ineffable sin with one of her oldest friends, and she went about allaying her frightful suspicions in the only way she knew. In spite of the gooseberries everything seemed to be coming out all right when Terry's tongue slipped. That set gossip wagging. Daisy might have shut her ears to the gossip but when she was assailed by a friendly...