Word: claddings
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Lusty Bavarians cheered at Nuremberg last week one whom they hail as "Our King"-the onetime Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria. He, clad in a field-gray uniform, spike-helmeted, reviewed with Prince Oscar of Prussia (rep resenting Wilhelm of Doom) and the great Feldmarschall von Mackensen (TIME, Aug. 11, 1924) a mammoth parade of several thousand former Imperial officers and Reichswehr troops...
...goes the drum, "De-de-Bom, de-de-Bom!" Strong, bearded men quiver as their fingernails are extracted. "Bom!" goes the drum. Grotesquely scalpless women shriek, moan. "Bom!" goes the drum. Half-clad dancers leap in the fire's garish flicker. Seventy-five years ago such a picture was common around Cheyenne, Wyoming, which was later named for these super-redskins. Last week, U. S. Senator Francis Emroy Warren, 82, Chairman of the Appropriations Committee, last governor of Wyoming territory, first governor of Wyoming state, rancher, realtor, arose from his Cheyenne verandah, strode down the asphalt street. White-haired...
...That night many a white-clad nine-year-old girl from the nearby Lochearn Girls' Camp dressed in bloomers and middy blouses came over to the Coolidge house and piped in childish tenors. "Here's to Mrs. Coolidge, Mrs.Coolidge, Mrs. Coolidge Here's to Mrs. Coolidge, she's with us today! God bless her, we love her! God bless her, we love her! Here's to Mrs. Coolidge, she's with its today...
...They are not unlike high school celebrities giving a self-directed benefit, where the footlights falter and every one's pet smart cracks must be respected by all. Music by Gitz Rice, twitching by Irene Olson, genuinely ingenious gyrations by Nat Nazzaro Jr., have some merit. The chastely clad chorus is one of the prettiest units in town...
...Cape Gris Nez, France, shivered slightly and pressed her legs together. "Gee whiz, let's get started." Her sister, Margaret, dipped her hands once more in the grease pail. "Put your bathing suit on," she directed over her shoulder. More grease was applied to the strong stumpy body, clad now in a thin racing suit, cut away deeply under the arms. Gertrude Ederle (pronounced "Ed-er-ly") ran across the beach into the surf, briefly acknowledging the cheers of the crowd that had come to see her off. It was cold, she remarked as she felt the water, colder...