Word: sweater
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...persuade Mr. Hearst, if not actually to support Nominee Smith, at least to "lay off" him, to forget Nominee Smith's bitter contempt for him and to bury the old quarrel. Except for a series of cartoons, showing Tammany as a little yegg in a tiger-striped sweater, Mr. Hearst subsequently published nothing very damaging to the Brown Derby...
Miss Earhart is an experienced pilot, licensed in May, 1923, a former holder of the altitude record for women fliers, but Miss Boll was led to take up trans-atlantic flying last summer by the ambition to show New Yorkers her Parisian sweater woven from gold links. Lady Lindy flies in a trimotored Fokker, equipped with pontoons and two radio sets, while the Diamond Queen has chosen the single-motored Columbia, trans-atlantic veteran with no pontoons and no radio. Backing Miss Earhart are the advice of Commander Byrd, the promoting wisdom of George Palmer Putnam and the wealth...
...Nothing was known about Perkins except that he was 24 years old and that his initials were T. P. Some people pointed out that Perkins is traditionally a butler's name; others took Mr. Wethered's opponent for an American because he belted his trousers over his sweater. A big crowd came down from London and stood around the first tee to watch Mr. Wethered and Perkins drive off in the rain that is the traditional background for sporting events in Great Britain...
There were several Americans left now and one more Frenchwoman-Mlle. Manette Le Blan. Miss Collett got to the fourth round where she played a tired little woman by the name of Wragg who came out on the first tee wearing hornrimmed spectacles, a leather jacket with a sweater under it, woolen stockings, thick shoes, and woolen gloves. Miss Collett, always natty, had on a thin blue raincoat. Warm and ugly, Miss Wragg kept her ball in the middle of the course. Miss Collett stopped before each shot to warm her fingers with her breath. "How do you feel?" asked...
When Jack Dempsey, sunburned, deliberate and scowling, with an old red sweater thrown over his shoulders and a three days' beard on his chin, climbed through the ropes of a ring and sat down in his corner, people always felt sorry for his opponent. How terrible it would be to face that hunched body with the enormous shoulders, endure the glare of those narrowed black eyes. . . . Last week in a District Court in Manhattan Jack Dempsey climbed into a chair and sat down. He had on a new suit, his fierce black eyes looked sheepish. He stuck his thumbs...