Word: toting
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...story has it that the people of Bessans began whittling devils in the 14th Century to commemorate a home-town boy named Duvallon, who sold his soul to Satan on a Christmas night. For 50 years thereafter, Duvallon was able to tote huge pine trees about on his shoulders and to float up & down the River Arc in a magic, unsinkable jacket. Satan at last came to collect, of course, suffused with devilish glee. Duvallon slipped his wife's wedding ring on his own finger for protection, jumped on his horse and galloped off to Rome. The Pope prescribed...
...Reds were reported to be suffering heavily from allied air attacks. Their famous "manback" supply system worked well enough for front-line distribution, but their human supply carriers could not tote their burdens all the way from the Manchurian border. For those hundreds of miles, the Communists used trains and road vehicles, which were vulnerable to air harassment. Air communiques reported attacks on six trains (one destroyed, four damaged); one day the allied air arms attacked road convoys totaling 425 vehicles...
...pleasant time, before such modern conveniences as electrified tote boards and raucous public address systems. If a racegoer had no special interest in placing a bet at the moment, he could wander down to the stable area along the Susquehanna, watch such thoroughbreds as Exterminator or Sir Barton grazing under the trees. After the races there was the leisurely ride home, or perhaps a turn at the roulette wheel or dice table in what was apt to be, in race season, a relaxed and hospitable town...
Going into the stretch, Jockey Brooks drew his whip again, gave Citation a businesslike whack. "I wanted him to keep his mind on the race," said Brooks. Citation did. He ran down Bolero in the stretch, got home three-quarters of a length ahead. The tote board flashed the time: Citation had run the mile in 1:33 3/5, two-fifths of a second better than the world record set by his stablemate Coaltown at Washington Park last year. A moment later, the announcer verified what everybody at Golden Gate already knew: Big Cy had also beaten Stymie...
...deities of the voodoo pantheon, to put in an appearance at a voodoo session. Chinese bankers have taken to serving it instead of tea, and Italian aristocrats offer it to their guests instead of champagne. Graceful gondolas carry it along the narrow canals of Venice, and sturdy, resigned burros tote it into the dusty Mexican hills. Bright red signs proclaim its worth in the shadow of the Matterhorn and beneath the blank, unastonished eyes of the great Sphinx. The gentle burps which it evokes from the drinker are heard amid the bustle of Parisian sidewalk cafes and amid the tinkling...