Word: throng
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...other, typifying Italy and the nature of her jubilation. At a certain point along the street the traffic snarled, and there in the middle of it stood a solitary man draped in an Italian flag which covered him from his waist to his knees. He stood amidst a throng of fans fenced in by several police cars casting a pall over the scene with their Hashing blue lights...
...final "I-TAL-IA!" He waved his fist in defiance, then marched back to his Fiat parked in the middle of the street Slowly he undraped himself and put on his pants. The crowd loved it. Banners waved Women screamed. After a few moments more of encouragement, the throng moved...
...away, the white-painted Parliament House where he will now govern. Shortly after midnight, he drove to the huge National Exhibition Center to greet 1,500 cheering well-wishers. When he entered, champagne corks popped, hundreds chanted "We want Bob!" and tables and chairs were knocked over as the throng mobbed its next Prime Minister. Hawke celebrated his remarkable victory with measured and modest optimism. "This is going to be a government for all Australians," he declared. "We have a wonderful country. If we all work together, I can see no bounds to what...
...patron's eldest son, State's Attorney Richard M. Daley. After Washington's upset win last week, however, it appeared the twice-elected Congressman and his staff might not only enter city hall but own it. "You want Harold?" he cracked to a chanting throng of jubilant well-wishers in his South Side hotel in the wee hours following election day. "You've really...
...across the pavement. At a Broadway theater the next night, Rainier was accused of cursing and slugging another paparazzo who clicked when he should have ducked. Later that night, as his father hopped into a waiting limousine, Albert extended the middle finger of his left hand to the clustered throng of photographers in the universally understood gesture of disapproval. At such moments, no doubt, royal families must wish that the art of portraiture had never moved off the easel. -By E. Graydon Carter