Word: cigar
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...most interesting character in the movie. Purvis is obsessed with killing all of the biggest bank robbers who are responsible for killing a G-man friend of his in a jail break. This G-man had once given Purvis a box of expensive Havana cigars. Purvis phallically puffs on one of the Havanas at the shoot-out killings of each of his sworn enemies. In Sergant Friday-monotone, he relates in voice-over the location and date of each shooting. He personally (with hundreds of cops standing behind him) shoots his victims with a lighted cigar hanging from his mouth...
...gardens but has few interests outside of his work, his wife Ruby, two grown children and two grandchildren. Those who work with him say he is affable, even-tempered and taciturn. In high school he was nicknamed "Chief" because his slightly stooped frame (6 ft., 200 lbs.) resembled a cigar-store Indian silhouette. Now, behind his back, subordinates call him Dick Tracy because of his fondness for technological gadgetry (such as Kansas City's computerized information system and helicopter patrol, which he instituted) and his square-jawed resemblance to the comic-strip...
HERMAN E. TALMADGE, 59, a Georgia Democrat, is a plainspoken, cigar-chomping Senate veteran who had to be prodded into serving on the committee. "I don't have the time nor the resources nor the inclination to be a private eye," he explains. Whatever Ervin does will be all right with Talmadge...
...district court in Los Angeles, the assemblage in the crowded courtroom rose, applauded and cheered him. Patricia Ellsberg rushed over to her stunned husband and asked plaintively: "Haven't you got a kiss for your girl?" (He had.) Defense Counsel Charles Nessen ostentatiously broke out a big cigar and lit it. The prosecution team filed out in tight-lipped silence. Later, a majority of the jurors said that they would have voted for acquittal if they had been given the chance...
...this controversy, and, some say, partly the cause of it, is President James P. Dixon (Antioch, '39; Harvard Medical School, '43), who was serving as Philadelphia's commissioner of health when named to head his alma mater in 1959. Usually chomping on a half-smoked cigar that sprinkles ashes down his rumpled blue polo shirt, Dixon talks in convoluted jargon that has earned him the nickname "Dim Jixon." Students still talk about his speech in 1969 comparing the campus to a well-balanced fishbowl populated with guppies, goldfish and piranhas. "For days," says one senior, "people tried...