Word: snow
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Occasionally, one subject will preoccupy a part of the country for many weeks at a time. Throughout most of January, waist-deep snow and temperatures ranging to 35° below zero crowded out most other conversation in Salt Lake City. Finally, on Feb.1, Correspondent John Polly's Topic A report read: "Oh, what a beautiful morning. Sun shining, birds singing following heavy rain and sleet last night. Weather-minded Utahans decide life's worthwhile after...
Then the people began to have their say. The absent Ike's victory over a campaigning Senator Robert Taft in New Hampshire on March 11 was impressive enough. But when the Republican voters of Minnesota went to the polls through snow and mud and wrote in Ike's name nearly 107,000 times, the clear call was unmistakable. Linked together, the results of New Hampshire and Minnesota became a striking and momentous demonstration that an Eisenhower boom of tremendous proportions is sweeping across the land...
...Their Heads." Primary day-the first presidential primary in Minnesota since 1916-brought rain, snow and mud. A light vote was expected. But not long after the polls opened, election workers knew something strange was happening. Voters were sloshing through the weather in unexpected numbers. In St. Paul, Duluth, Austin and St. Louis Park (a Minneapolis suburb), where voting machines are used, an astonishing number of voters were going through a tedious process. They had to push aside a metal cover on a vertical write-in slot 1½ in. long, reach up (the slot...
...nightmare of white haze, white snow and blinding Arctic glare, the C-47 pilot picked out a landing area. Time after time he skimmed low over the island, slapping his skis on hummocks of ice, skipping from crest to crest like a stone over water. For nearly an hour he made passes at the island before he landed and slued to a halt. Photographer Silk crawled from the plane to shoot his pictures.* General Old, who had flown as copilot, trudged back up the plane's ski tracks in the 60°-below-zero cold...
Instead of dawdling at bistros and helping with the haying, Francois takes on a little wine and goes "all American." Neither snow, nor rain, nor the vicissitudes thrown in his path by the scenarists stay him from his jet-propelled rounds. Astride his ramshackle bike, leather case flying in the breeze, he whizzes past bicycle road racers and delivers mail down wells, on farmers' pitchforks and in threshing machines-when he is not tangling with wasps, pigs and flagpoles. The wine finally wears off, the fair departs and village and postman go back to a more tranquil tempo. "News...