Word: hostings
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...important showpeople who laugh at all his jokes. He gives money to beggars, is shrewd at driving bargains, has been known to refuse several thousand dollars to sing for five minutes at a private party on the ground that at a party his status must be either that of host or guest. His best shows were Bombo and Sinbad, his pictures The Jazz Singer and The Singing Fool. Last winter he improved his standing by marrying Ruby Keeler, a popular little tap-dancer tutored by Mary Louise (''Texas") Guinan...
Last week in Hollywood's American Legion stadium, President Gillmore disclosed these negotiations to a host of 4,000 actors. Loudly they approved Equity's 80% demand. A ballot was taken, the results to be sent to the producers. With a credo thus determined, Equity was prepared to continue its campaign with more sanity, unanimity...
...murmur swelled: "They are coming!" Out the portal, down the steps of the basilica marched detachments of Papal gendarmes in towering busbies. The blue-clad Palatine Guards wore helmets topped with lazy plumes. Followed many monks and the first of a host of 5,000 seminarians from all over the world. Four abreast, chanting, bearing lighted tapers, they followed the line of march beneath Bernini's massive colonnade which encloses St. Peter's Square. This took them in serpentine procession around a huge circle, back to the basilica steps. When the column's head drew up before the church...
Behind them came the Pope Who Left the Vatican, Pius XI. He was riding?a minute figure almost immersed in a white mantle. Bareheaded because of the heat, he gazed fixedly at the Host. Around him strode a jeweled assemblage. Above him waved a velvet canopy of scarlet and gold which dispersed thick spirals of incense rising from argent censers. Behind him swayed two giant ostrich fans. As the podium was borne through the colonnade, the mass of heads turned, the air quivered with the clangor of bells, the shouts were hoarse and deafening: "Viva il Papa! Viva il Papa...
Returned before St. Peter's, the Pope dismounted. Night had fallen. In the glow of spotlights he walked solemnly to a bronze altar set before a tapestry of the Last Supper. Canticles were intoned by 6,000 voices. To the kneeling thousands the elevation of the host was announced by a salvo of bugles. The Pope raised his arms heavenward, thrice blessed the throng. Then, remounting the podium, he was borne into the awesome, shadowed basilica. As he passed, the dark façade blazed with torches...