Word: drank
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Almost as soon as they landed in New York, the seven visiting Soviet strongmen began to wonder whether weight lifting in the U.S. is a sport or a sideshow. Dutifully they drank Cokes and made muscles for Manhattan photographers: dutifully they helped hoist "Miss Body Beautiful" aloft for enterprising Chicago newsmen. Light-Heavyweight Trofim Lomakin let one publicity man con him into posing on horseback until a comrade muttered: "Cossack!" Bantamweight Vladimir Stogov, an army chauffeur, took a turn behind the wheel of a new Ford, fled in terror when he pushed a button and the retractable hardtop began...
Major Howard Johnson, 38, U.S.A.F., made a casual stop at a cafeteria one morning last week, drank a cup of black coffee, then went on to work at the Lockheed Aircraft Corp. plant in Palmdale, Calif. There, at Air Force Plant 42, ruddy, husky (5 ft. 8 in.. 170 Ibs.) Pilot Johnson squirmed into a pressure suit, picked up his helmet, oxygen mask and parachute, walked out to a dainty, needle-nosed F-104A Starfighter, a silvery sliver of jet aircraft with short (7½ ft.), knife-edged wings. Johnson checked the plane carefully: 5,000 Ibs. of fuel...
...took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them: and they all drank...
...later became Husband No. 2, a "tennis bum" who refused to work for fear he might "use the wrong muscles," and who took sadistic pleasure in driving tennis balls at Diana's face. Husband No. 3 was almost as big a lush as Diana, and together they rapidly drank up all the money she had made and inherited. According to the script, she wound up doing take-offs (including clothes) in a Manhattan dive, and one night she ran amuck and wound up in the alcoholic ward. That's where the "unholy ghost" (as Author Frank is known...
...more than 70 years!" On another occasion two would-be assassins rang the priest's doorbell, pistols in hand. "I implored them: 'Not at this hour-you'll wake everybody up. Put your playthings away and come in if you like.' Finally, they each drank a bottle of wine and went to sleep on the table." But it has been six months since Father Rosi has been attacked. "Pimps aren't all as bad as the novels make out," he says mildly. "I know one who has changed his life and become a house painter...