Word: sweatingly
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Greasy Kid Stuff. Drysdale's reputation was built on more than statistics. His penchant for throwing "dusters" prompted Atlanta Braves Slugger Hank Aaron to label him a "mean" pitcher, and San Francisco Manager Herman Franks hinted last year that Drysdale had more on the ball than honest sweat. That led to Drysdale's "greasy kid stuff" commercial,* which still regularly appears on television. His boyish visage and brash charm also won him spots on The Rifleman and the Donna Reed Show, and he once sang with Milton Berle in a Las Vegas nightclub. He also owns a rich...
...plugged along until about a year and a half ago, when his records caught on big in the Country & Western field. At an appearance last spring at The Scene in Manhattan, where he received a standing ovation, tears were seen welling in his eyes. "I think it was sweat," says Jerry Lee. "But it was a great feeling. They really went wild. Maybe it was tears...
...concert in Sanders Theatre last Monday night. Why Harvard is the only school of any consequence anywhere in the country without a decent concert hall no one can explain. Most of us are tired of quarters for violin, cello, piano and street noises and tired of wiping out neighbors' sweat off our knees. It is a disgrace to force any musicians of merit to attempt to perform in the decrepit fire trap...
There are exactly two different kinds of peoples in the South: those who are just past the rich-enough line so they can have air conditioning in their house, their car, and their office, and those on the other side of the line who have to sweat all the time. The air conditioned ones are fatter, pale, and old. They sweat people are rugged, skinny, and tired but tough. When we were hitchhiking into Montgomery, Ala., the air conditioned guys used to zap by with their windows rolled up not even looking at us, not even looking at anything...
There is something different about Blood, Sweat, and Tears when they walk on and set up. Maybe it's that you know that so many of them have their degrees from Julliard tucked away in the hip pockets of their bell-bottoms. But I don't think so. It's an air about them, a feeling they give you, a funny thing to define. You just know that they're not up there to drown you with decibels; they know what they're doing--exactly what they're doing...