Word: spang
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Santa Claus must never promise anything to anybody. That might embarrass the parents, Mr. Spang told me, and he stressed it again and again the day I reported for work. I was to be one of three Santas at R. H. White's, replacing a Mr. Boccuzzi who had just contracted some childhood disease and was away at the hospital. Spang himself works on the Number One shift and is an old hand at the job. He is a truck driver during the off season and, when you get down to it, not a very jolly fellow; but once...
...interview with a toddler is necessarily quite summary, but there are many ways to make it more personal. If Spang or I overhear a mother saying, "Here's Santa now, Maureen," we will usually greet the girl with a joyous, "Oh, I remember you! You're Maureen" There are many other ruses. If a boy has a shirt labelled "Steve," it is safe to assume that that is his name; if a girl wears a Girl Scout beret, we can confidently ask her how she's doing in the troop. If she carries a new pocketbook, we say, "Oh, what...
...remember, Santa never promised anything. The most disruptive thing that happened to the Santa Claus department all week was the arrival of a man from Beechnut Gum. He had several bins of the stuff, and suggested that we pass it out free, which I was glad to do. Spang, however, looked at the gum somewhat goggle-eyed and announced, "Well, I'm certainly not going to give it to every Tom, Dick, and Harry!" Several children left Spang's throne-room crying because they weren't given any gum, and this worried Spang to some degree. As of yesterday...
...issues. Sutherland's owl, however, is made of stern stuff. By insisting in Fresh Laid Plans on exposing a community of farming chickens to the rigors of Fair Dealing price control, farm subsidies and other bureaucratic gimmicks, he landed the chickens in the soup and M-G-M spang in the center of the hottest political controversy in the farm belt...
...Last week, six decades later, he could wonder if his grandfather, who was something of a family oracle, might not have been crying a prophecy. In the forum of the U.N. the dragon of Communism snarls and spits and spreads its terror. Destiny, framed by TV, thrust Warren Austin spang before the threatening beast. To millions of U.S. televiewers, at least, he became-more than any other ambassador at Lake Success-the voice, conscience and counsel of the free world...