Word: tomming
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Last week a man sat on an Indiana front porch, stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat as is his habit, put his straw hat on the back of his head. Grey-mustachioed, wrinkle-eyed Tom Taggart, owner of French Lick Springs and Democratic boss of Indiana meditated...
Once a youth-no common youth-wore a soiled waiter's apron as he hustled behind the counter of the old Indianapolis Union Station. People called him "Tom." Even Republicans liked this jovial pushing Irishman, were glad to help him when later he bought the eating-house, hustled still more, bought the Grand Hotel. More people called him "Tom," so he entered politics, became identified with every state campaign for 20 years and more. Indiana took to its dusty bosom this free-and-easy politician without any "dog"* who accepted and played politics with good-humored cynicism...
...elected as his successor one Walter Franklin George. Soon thereafter Washington correspondents, led by Clinton W. ("Mirror") Gilbert and Mark Sullivan, cheered loudly for Senator George. At 44, he was a distinguished lawyer, brilliant orator, a rather impressive figure on the Senate floor. He was no bombaster of the Tom Heflin school, no ranting humorist of the Pat Harrison species. His popularity grew; people began to say that the South was having a political renaissance, that soon the John Calhouns and the Henry Clays would again sway the Senate...
...early in France, stayed late. He gave lessons, exhibition bouts, in various training camps, but was demobilized underweight, with brittle hands. His manager sent him to the Maine woods where he hauled and hewed for a winter and acquired a new jauntiness which he employed effectively against Carpentier and Tom Gibbons. The men he had beaten before that were second raters: Herbert Crowely, Martin Burke, Wolfe Larson, Jack Ambrose, Eddie O'Hara, Whitey Meuzel, Fay Reiser. He did very well against them, this mild marine. A handsome lightheavy-weight, well-built but not particularly strong, intelligent but not brutal...
...blind nobleman in a priest-ridden hill town quixotically shoulders his brother's misdeeds, earning only calumny and spite from the populace, renouncing society and going to wander, Lear-like, over the bleak table-lands with a wronged barmaid for his Cordelia, a Basque beggar for Poor Tom. It is fiction with strong bones...