Word: buttes
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...vaudeville joke In addition to being the butt of tired jokes, Newark (pop. 465.600) used to be a sprawling municipal Skid Row choking in its own web of rail lines, express high ways and traffic-snarled streets. The sun, rising above Manhattan's skyscrapers ten miles away, glinted off broken bottles in the ring of slums pressing in on Newark's business district. A daily flood of commuters poured in-doubling the population-then poured back into the suburbs. At night those who remained in the city saw the streets grow sullen and creepy...
...porch steps, began pushing people off. A Missouri Pacific switchman named C. E. Blake, for days one of the most vocal of the agitators around Central High ("I advocate violence"), grabbed for a rifle, pulled a paratrooper to the ground with him. Another trooper reversed his rifle, smashed its butt against Blake's head. Blake, blood streaming from a shallow scalp wound, scuttled away, shouting to newsmen and photographers as he went: "Who knows the name of that lowlife s.o.b. who hit me?" A top sergeant ordered his men: "Keep those bayonets high-right at the base...
Although the situation in the school was well in hand, occasional flares of violence occurred several blocks away. D. F. Blake, 46, of North Little Rock, was knocked down and struck repeated blows with the butt of an M1 rifle when he refused to obey the orders of a sergeant...
...head out the door of his home near Havana, found a squad of soldiers scouring the bushes for an insurrecto, lent them a flashlight and went back to bed. Next morning Papa discovered his dog Machakos (breed: "Cuban") dead of a head wound, presumably inflicted with a rifle butt, stormed down to the local military post but got no explanation, mournfully listed the pooch "killed in action...
...just won the Southwest conference baseball championship for the 31st time in 42 years, but the University of Texas' Coach August Bibb Falk, 58, sounded like a man who had hot heard the score. "It's a 'five out' team," he snarled around the butt of his cigar. "Five men don't get on base enough to count. Besides that, we don't have any power. Why, we have a shortstop and second baseman hitting .300-that is, they're hitting .150 apiece...