Word: smokes
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...brief sober pause midway between Christmas and New Year's Eve, 358 delegates at the Chicago Conference sweated and politicked through a smoke-filled parliamentary maze. They knew what they wanted: no axe-grinding by existing youth organizations, no partisan domination by doctrinaire minorities, escape from the shadow of past failures in building a U. S. Students movement...
There are Kern melodies from musical comedy hits and from Hollywood, patter songs and "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes," frivolity in a corn-laden rendition of "I Won't Dance" and theater with a soul in a reproduction of the original setting and arrangement of "Old Man River." Some of filmdom's greatest are hauled in to do their bits with varying results. By far the worst of these contributions is a second round with "Old Man River" with Frank Sinatra, the co-ed's Caruso, sliding all over the range in an effort to bring this great folk-tune...
...Simple Onas. To find primitive virtues, the ethnologist must go all the way to the Onas, who lived in cold Tierra del Fuego. Their only clothing was a skin cape. They ate meat, seafood and fungi, washed themselves with liver. They did not drink or smoke, had determinedly rigid standards of chastity. They attached no prestige to wealth. They were free of restraints of government, seldom gathering in large groups except to eat a dead whale. They counted up to five only...
...Washington studio, the décor is pinball-palace modern, badly beat up. The carpet is worn through, the stained orange velveteen seats are mostly out of whack. Cigaret butts smaller than a little fingernail mat the floor, and through the thick smoke appear big wall signs: "No Smoking." No self-respecting Frenchman would let such a challenge pass, and almost everybody (except babes in arms, of whom there were several) puffs away industriously...
After many a summer, a foreign fighter reached the U.S. without bringing along a glass chin and a pair of collapsible knees. In smoke-hazy Madison Square Garden, hairy-chested Marcel Cerdan, middleweight champion of Europe, danced out from his corner last week and swung like a Normandy windmill. George Abrams, one of the top four U.S. middleweights, looked surprised and swung back. For the next ten rounds they fought it out. Then they waited vacant-eyed and with blood trickling down their faces while the ballots were collected. The winner, to no one's surprise but Abrams...