Word: sweating
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Latest to rise in attack on the leadership of Texan Lyndon Johnson was Louisiana's Russell Long, son of Huey and nephew of Earl. Long had helped Senate liberals sweat through the Senate a proposed tax-cut program (repeal of the 4% forgiveness on dividends, repeal of Korean war excise taxes on travel, telephones, etc.), calculated to impress the voters and embarrass the Administration. Then, before Long's very eyes, the long arms of Lyndon Johnson and House Speaker Sam Rayburn reached into the meeting of Senate-House conferees to compromise away all that had been fought...
...acres and once exiled as a fervent Castro supporter, told 1,000 cheering men: "Castro has fooled us." Said semiliterate Farmer Macho Villar, who also fought for Castro: "I will continue to defend my land as long as I have breath, because I obtained it with the sweat of my brow and it is the only thing I have to leave my children...
...answer lies somewhere in the uncommon blend of luck, looks, talent, determination and good salt sweat that is the essence of Shirley's art. She has watched for the breaks and made them work for her ever since her first appearance onstage. It was at a dancing-school recital, and she was only four. "I had on a little green costume and looked like a fool four-leaf clover. I tripped on the curtain and fell down. That's when I got my first laugh. I liked it. I damn near fell down again-on purpose...
...D.J.s were still collecting their annual dew, sloshing from hospitality suite to hospitality suite getting ready for an all-night party with top entertainers (Patti Page, Vic Damone, Peggy Lee, Pat Boone, etc.). The temperature in Miami was in the 80s, and there were circles of sweat even under the tone arms of the companies' endlessly blaring phonographs. But most of the D.J.s would stay happy for another year, and that is what mattered-for, as all the companies agreed: "Without you, boy, we're dead...
There for the next four hours, too weak to raise their rifles, surrounded by several hundred Communist troops, 25 heroic U.S. infantrymen sit caked in blood and sweat and dust, and wait for help to come -wait unaware that all the while, back in the headquarters of the Far East command, a little group of earnest, greying generals are solemnly debating a question that may carry, for the unmilitary observer, some suggestion of the impersonal horror, the mindless irony of war. The question: "Do we really want to hold Pork Chop Hill...