Word: clicks
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...future. Maggie the Cat (played with surprising sureness by Elizabeth Taylor) is young, beautiful, childless; her hot tin roof is the marital bed no longer shared by her husband Brick (Paul Newman), a onetime college athlete now tying on the booze bag every night in search of the "click in my head." Together they have come back to Big Daddy's "28,000 of the richest acres west of the River Nile," ostensibly for a family celebration of Big Daddy's 65th birthday. But the real cause of the gathering is the news that Big Daddy (Burl Ives...
...Walter O'Malley, Los Angeles is a sort of Garden of Eden and Black Hole of Calcutta rolled into one. While the turnstiles of mammoth Memorial Coliseum click toward a smashing major-league attendance record, his Dodgers languish at the bottom of the league and his plans for a new baseball home in Chavez Ravine run into snags from all quarters. The voters last month approved the city's plan to make over to the Dodgers 169 acres of city-owned land in the Ravine so the Dodgers could build a stadium and parking lot there. But last...
...Francisco's KGO-TV, which believes that disk jockeys should stick to their musical saddles, told Sherwood to shut up about the Indians. He sulked. "Somebody got to somebody," he said during his TV variety show, "and I can't mention the Navajos . . ." Click! and he was off the air, replaced by a traffic safety film. He fought back on his morning radio show over rival KSFO, playing Indian music and calling KSFO "Radio Free San Francisco...
...third desperate day of battle near Gettysburg, charging into history under Major General George Pickett. Their objective was the stone wall in the center of the Union lines, where Staff Lieut. Haskell and the veterans of the II Corps stood waiting, watching. It was strangely quiet: "The click of the locks as each man raised the hammer to feel with his fingers that the cap was on the nipple; the sharp jar as a musket touched a stone upon the wall when thrust in aiming over it; and the clicking of the iron axles as the guns were rolled...
...caused radio to jump out of bed and click its heels while the public was dressing for the funeral. Then you went and abdicated your programing to the 8-to-14-year-olds, to the pre-shave crowd that makes up 12% of the country's population and zero percent of its buying power-once you eliminate ponytail ribbons, Popsicles and peanut brittle. Youth must be served-but how about some music for the rest...