Word: elbowed
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...clock one morning last week a jostling crowd-tourists, sailors and townspeople, elbow to elbow with priests and nuns-had swarmed into the 13th century Cathedral of San Gennaro in Naples. Promptly on the hour, a mustached monsignor walked slowly to a side altar, carrying a glass-windowed silver reliquary containing two glass vials partly filled with a dark, solid, opaque substance. As the priest turned the reliquary around and around before the golden-faced bust of St. Januarius, Naples' patron saint, onlookers prayed: "Come and grant us your favor, 0 beautiful saint, great champion of Jesus Christ...
...elbow of Nikita Khrushchev, as he toured East Germany this summer, appeared a new traveling partner, sallow, stoop-shouldered, scowling. Unlike the previous sidekick, Bulganin, who looked like an amiable riverboat gambler living it up, this saturnine little man seemed to shrink from the speechmaking and the public panoply, the peculiar rites and duties of the proletarian potentates who parade about holding durbars in subject states like 19th century monarchs, while talking over their shoulders to the press like 20th century pols. Yet the world noted, as it was meant to, that wherever the Russians went in East Berlin, Deputy...
Khrushchev, ready to be the life of the party all by himself, stepped down from the train at Berlin's Ostbahnhof to plant chummy kisses on both cheeks of Party Boss Walter Ulbricht and Premier Otto Grotewohl. With Deputy Premier Anastas Mikoyan, the agile Armenian, at his elbow as Bulganin's tardy standin, Khrushchev marched confidently through the station to inspect a bristling guard of Russian-helmeted East Germans, and take the cheers of some 10,000 Berliners conscripted from their government offices and factories for the occasion...
...screened porch in the residence of the U.S. ambassador in green and summery Ottawa, two tall, greying men stood elbow to elbow one evening last week, each intent upon the other. While cocktail-party chatter echoed in other rooms, John George Diefenbaker, the Prime Minister of Canada, talked, gestured, sipped from a glass of orange juice. John Foster Dulles, the U.S. Secretary of State, cradled a rye highball in his hand as he nodded, smiled, listened. Thus casually, top officials of the world's two most neighborly nations began to explore the subtle new relationship that must come about...
...Groaned the Roman poet Juvenal, circa A.D. 100: "Who but the wealthy can sleep in Rome? The crisscross of wagons in the narrow, winding streets, the shouting of drovers make sleep impossible. Hurry as we may, we are blocked by the surging crowd . . . One digs an elbow into me, another bangs a wine cask against my head . . . New tunics are torn...