Word: plumped
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...next three scenes described the contrasting influences of North & South. Sailors on a southbound cargo ship jumped about in brisk, energetic fashion until plump sirens with fishlike feet got aboard, started playing guitars and wriggling their hips. Officers forgot to give orders then, left the bridge. In a tropical port even the luxuriant, overgrown pineapples and coconut trees abandoned themselves to jogging amiably about. But back north again the dancing took on new, hectic energy. Drably uniformed workmen hopped about automatically, rebelliously, before a stock ticker largely labeled. A gasoline filling station, two bathtubs and a ventilator took part...
...Nast as an artist. That week Sir John Tenniel published a biting cartoon in Punch on the subject of the Alabama Claims* showing the U. S. as a bloated Falstaff demanding £400,000,000 from the bearded Prince of Wales, Edward VII, as the price of his love. Plump Tommy Nast raged at the subject, but admired the technique. A month later he replied with a full page in Harpers Weekly of an even fatter John Bull Falstaff, drawn in the same manner. In this adaptation of the Tenniel technique he thereafter drew all his best known pictures...
...brilliant maroon felt pillow with the seal of the Aeronautics Branch (a beacon over which flies the original Wright Brothers' plane) on one side; on the other the name of Clarence M. Young in orange letters. The pillow was the gift and particular pride of Col. Young's pilot, plump John Cable. In one or another of the Department's planes the Colonel still puts in enough hours of actual piloting to keep his transport license and reserve commission active...
...Manhattan, while trying to escape from jail disguised as a visiting church worker, Mrs. Jennie Goldstein, plump, fur-coated, wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and with prayer books and a bundle of religious tracts tucked under her arm, paused and twittered to Head Keeper Edward A. Glennon, "It's a very fine day the good Lord has given us, isn't it?" "A fine day, indeed!" roared Head Keeper Glennon as Mrs. Goldstein turned to leave by the prisoners' entrance instead of the visitors', and clapped her back in her cell...
Widow MacDougall is now 65, grey, pretty. She is still short, plump, neat and clean. Though frugal (waitresses in her Grand Central restaurant pay $10 a week for their jobs), she lives on swank Park Avenue. Her daughter Gladys married Harry Montrose Graham two years ago. Son Allan, 37, has had complete charge of the coffee business for several years (he put it in cans), is the financial brains of the organization. He is smallish, neat, curly-mustached, rides to hounds with the Spring Valley Harriers near his home at Convent, N. J. But Mrs. MacDougall is still the decorative...