Word: drawling
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Dapper Walter Hagen used to stride out to the first tee, often late for his match, run a comb through his Brilliantined hair and drawl: "Well, who's going to be second?" "The Haig's" psychological warfare continued through the match. He made the hard shots look easy, the easy ones look stupendous. Early in a match he would concede putts to his opponent, later rattle him by insisting that even the short ones be played out. No matter how poorly Walter seemed to be shooting, nobody relaxed until he was in. But where Hagen deliberately played...
Herb brings to the air a nasal drawl, a collection of Hoosier wheezes, and a relaxed view of the news that is reminiscent of Will Rogers. His apprenticeship was served in traveling vaudeville shows ("I used to get $40 a week and all the road maps I could eat"), and as a front-line sergeant-entertainer with the Third Army in Germany. Through an interpreter, Shriner tried out his humor on the Russians. One joke they laughed at: "The mail service in our unit is very good. The mailman delivers packages to us as fast as he can smash them...
...editorial cartoons to finishing touches on Newsday's new plant in Garden City, L.I. She works in her small office off the city room from 10:30 a.m. to cocktail time. From the vast Guggenheim chateau at Port Washington or their bandbox house in Manhattan, her deceptively lazy drawl often calls pink-cheeked Managing Editor Alan Hathway, a Daily News alumnus, at any hour of the night...
...most realistic view of the Burmese situation was expressed by former Japanese Puppet Premier Ba Maw (Ph.D., Cambridge). Said he, in his best Cambridge drawl: "Just because America and Britain make their spiritual home in the middle of the road is no reason to expect Burma to stay there. The Japanese spirit completely conquered these people. It's the man with the gun who will win out here...
...pretends to, she could probably have done herself proud; instead, she is required to sing such pseudo-bitter cabaret ersatz as Black Market. Miss Arthur used to have a nice knack for comedy; now & then it still clicks, but she leans more & more lazily on her famous woolly drawl and is forced, in this picture, into an embarrassing passage of whimsy involving a flustered retreat (from amorous John Lund) among filing cabinets, and a panicky recitation of Paul Revere's Ride. Millard Mitchell handles the smart cracks ably, but since the brightest and nastiest of them are delivered against...