Word: sweated
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...wrong building. Gone will be the traditional broad center aisle, scene of many a wild parade and impromptu caucus; instead, in the interests of good order and discipline, the convention managers have made space for only two side aisles. Gone, Democratic publicists promise, will be the fevered brows and sweat-stained shirts; air-conditioning equipment has been stepped up to a capacity equaling 2,000,000 Ibs. of ice daily, will lower the temperature by ten degrees. To replace the backbreaking wooden chairs on the convention floor, the Democratic National Committee has latched onto 2,500 softly cushioned seats from...
Hero Glenn Ford is discovered in the guise of a meek and peace-loving storekeeper. Everybody in Cross Creek knows he hasn't packed a gun or tipped a glass in four years. But Glenn breaks out in a sweat whenever anybody mentions the shooting over at Silver Rapids. What's worse, he doesn't even pitch horseshoes with the old gang any more. Finally he bolts from the store, jounces into the saloon and announces, "I would like to go out of my mind." With the help of a bottle of raw hooch, he darn near...
That night Li Po angrily snapped out the lamp as Mr. Huang read his newspaper. "There is a light in the other room," he informed his host briskly. "You are wasting electricity, the people's money and the people's sweat and labor." Hoping to befriend his nephew, Mr. Huang offered him candy. Li Po shot out his hand eagerly, withdrew it when he saw the English lettering on the wrappers. "I do not eat goods of the enemy," he said, and turned his head away...
Then the crowd deserted the defending champ and straggled across the rain-slowed track to watch a brown giant strip off his sweat suit. Rafer Lewis Johnson, 20, sophomore colossus (6 ft. 3 in., 200 Ibs.) from U.C.L.A., looked as good as the reports that preceded his arrival...
...raised to 7 ft. ⅜ in. Dumas, a Negro like the other two qualifiers, poised himself, took eight carefully measured steps and took off. His foot caught the bar and dragged it into the sawdust. Dumas drew on his sweat clothes and strolled to one end of the stadium. It was late in the evening. He was the last competitor, and some 35,000 eyes were on him as he walked and thought for several minutes in a strange sort of solitude under the flaring floodlights. Then he came back, peeled off his sweat clothes and squinted...