Word: caf
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Jail. While Deputies passionately talked, word spread among the thousands of Algerians in the slums of Paris: strike on Friday. Paris woke up to find scores of little cafés closed and many local industries, including the Citroen plant, crippled for lack of workers. Police strengthened their cordon around the Chamber of Deputies, while the garde mobile (riot police) set up strongpoints all over Paris. By 1 p.m. thousands of Algerians had gathered at the Moslem mosque near the Gare d'Austerlitz. At 3 p.m. they formed themselves into a straggling parade led by a girl dressed...
Late in the morning the stocky man stirs in the old-fashioned featherbed, and demands his café au lait. He dumps in three lumps of sugar, shrugs into an old bathrobe, then sprawls on the bed again as he scans the morning papers. Soon he is dictating orders, directives and notes to his black-haired wife, her typewriter propped on a suitcase beside the bed. Before he is dressed, cars come honking down a narrow street usually disturbed only by the clump of a cart or a delivery boy's whistle, and men in leather coats and caps...
...inspection of his books) next day. Twenty-six other shopkeepers and artisans of Saint-Céré got the same notice. Blacksmith Fregeac was behind in his taxes, of course, and he could not pay. Hurriedly, he summoned his fellow councilors to an emergency meeting in a café. Early next morning, two inspectors faced a hostile crowd of some 300 shopkeepers in slippers and aprons. "Get out of here," yelled the mob. The inspectors left. Pierre Poujade had found his cause. Poujade wrote later: "It was David against Goliath. It was justice against the inquisition. It was liberty...
...Nondescript. If Pierre Poujade belongs in the category of demagogues or dictators, he is a strange specimen. He exudes none of the magniloquence of a Mussolini, the cold power of a Stalin, the megalomania of a Hitler. Instead, there is an engaging air of café table simplicity about him. Even his features are nondescript and the despair of caricaturists. "Look me in the eyes, and you will see yourself," he cries to his listeners...
Novelist Shaplen's setting is authentic. His Saigon is hot, and more oppressive than the heat is the sense of deceit, mistrust and danger. Communist terrorists hurl grenades into cafés in broad daylight. Harmless-looking old shopkeepers convert their shabby little stores into arms depots for Communist agents. A Chinese gambling-house operator runs weapons to the enemy. Counterespionage is apt at any time to burgeon into counter-counterespionage. At this game Adam Patch is about as subtle as a sand-lot quarterback. A Vietnamese doctor shows up, claiming to be a deserter from the Communists, with...