Word: wearers
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...large fellow; muscles, or some fatty tissue, bulged beneath the neat black coat which, despite the obvious fact that it had been made for its wearer, had a curious air of having been stolen. Whose was that ovine yet sturdy countenance ? Whose that beady eye? Whose but William Harrison ("Jack") Dempsey's, Heavyweight Champion of the World. The referee introduced him to the crowd; the Nation's hero rose to receive his accustomed mead of adulation...
...Floor Leader to succeed Mr. Longworth (as Mr. Longworth had promised if he won), a little more business was transacted and in less than an hour and a half the caucus was over. Mr. Longworth-"Nick," wearer of spats, genial, just a bit aristocratic -had advanced his career another step. To be sure, the probability is that, as Speaker, he will have less power than in his former post. The days of Thomas B. Reed, when the Speaker was "Czar," are gone forever. Reed, the sarcastic, the quick-witted, with his New England drawl, and his 200 pounds of avoirdupois...
...ordinary diving suit, with a body of fabric, inflated by air, subjects the wearer to air pressure as great as the water pressure without. †The depth attainable in ordinary suits is about 180 feet
...thoroughly at home in New York City. He would be at home anywhere, in a curious, amused, detached sort of way. They tell of Irish charm. One sees it in varying quantities. James Stephens has more of it in the crook of his little finger than any other Shamrock wearer I have ever met has in his whole carcass. Small, wiry, with an effort almost of crookedness in the bend of his walk, with a face crinkled and traced by the ways of much laughter, he is constantly making his little jokes. Something of the mystic, something of the comedian...
...sometimes, indeed, the natural recoil of his flourish forced him to stagger back a step or two. Mr. Rockefeller was warier; he never waggled, but bent for a moment over his club in the attitude of one who offers prayer, then struck. As they approached the eighth hole, the wearer of the cotton gloves was one up. Mr. Baker's ball dropped ten feet from the pin; he putted; it serpentined from view-a five. The match was even. Mr. Rockefeller normally plays but eight holes. Fearful of untying what Fate had so obviously tied, the two old gentlemen...