Word: decking
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...taking pictures. When photographing dangerous animals, Mrs. Johnson, an expert shot, stands guard beside him. Once they spent 14 months cruising in a 30-ft. ketch with an engine so faulty that no one could sleep below on account of the fumes. Lashed to the hatch, they slept on deck through tropic storms. They say they spent one of the happiest times of their lives floating on a raft down a river in Borneo...
Following inexorable British custom, the Kenilworth Castle hove to just at the moment when by the sextant of her Navigating Officer she was "crossing the Line. A gangway was lowered. In their oldest clothes hilarious passengers who had never bisected the Equator before, trooped from bar to boat deck. Up the boarding ladder came His Majesty King Neptune, shrouded in whiskers, accompanied by his Queen, his Barber, the members of his Court, all liberally smeared with burnt cork...
...last week's pageant he returned to his own sex. As barber he vigorously plied lather brush and wooden razor on the faces of Equator neophytes before toppling them into the canvas tank erected on the Kenilworth Castle's deck. In the midst of the ruckus little Wendy Tuke, eight-weeks-old baby, was brought to the barber's chair. Nervous passengers crowded forward, wondering whether baby Tuke was to be shaved and ducked with the others. Barber Wales contented himself with sprinkling a little soapy water on Baby Tuke's puckered face, conferring...
...Though he had just exhorted Frenchmen to build ugly cargo boats, M. Rollin waxed ecstatic a few minutes later at a unique new feature of the Paris, proudly displayed by dynamic General Director Maurice Tillier of the French Line. On no other ship, claimed he, is there an entire deck devoted exclusively to grand luxe suites each with a separate, private promenade-veranda on which the dogs and children of rich passengers may do their yapping and yonking without annoying ordinary First Class passengers-and of course vice versa...
...Deck (RKO). As a stage musical comedy, this was well liked three years ago. As a photograph of a stage musical comedy, it is handicapped by the fact that its great tunes-"Hallelujah" and "Sometimes I'm Happy"-are just old enough to be stale. Its story, stale to begin with, is laid in a seaport town populated by chorus girls who are always ready to swing into a routine, and by numerous chorus-boy sailors named Smith. Jack Oakie's talents are subdued by his struggles with the dialog. A girl named Polly Walker, new to films...