Word: craterous
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...connoisseur of mysteries knows that the unsolved ones are best. They command the imagination far more powerfully than the most neatly solved crimes. "What ever happened to Judge Crater?" provoked a number of literary discussions without drawing the judge into the open. In this well-documented addition to the annals of crime, a New York freelance writer now asks, "What ever happened to Charley Ross...
...country, while young boys, then mature men, then greying old folks-5,000 people in all-turned up to claim the honor. But none of them proved it, and to this day nobody, the author included, knows what happened to Charley. He has either gone the way of Judge Crater, or, at 96, is alive and well in Argentina...
Running Gunfight. Hardly had the diplomats been installed in Aden's Sea View Hotel-behind rolls of barbed wire and a 100-man police guard-than the fighting broke out. It started in the always-explosive Crater District, where hard-bitten veterans of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers shot it out with terrorists in a running gunfight from rooftop to rooftop. Though there were 277 terrorist incidents during the U.N. visit, the casualty figures were surprisingly low-18 killed, 50 injured-mostly because the Fusiliers freely wielded rifle butts and heavy boots to keep the mobs disorganized...
Situated in the bowl of an extinct volcano, the Arab quarter of the British colony of Aden is known as the Crater. Last week the Crater erupted with belching smoke from terrorists' grenades and bullets. At least 16 people were killed and 46 injured in disorders provoked by rival nationalist organizations. British troops put down street demonstrations with truncheons and tear gas, while the rioters threw up rock barricades across the dingy alleys to hamper them. At stake was the issue of who should rule Aden's 250,000 people when the British make their scheduled departure some...
Pasty-faced and crater-eyed, behind his boldly rouged cheeks, the lone figure onstage when the footlights go up on Broadway's hit musical, Cabaret, is a garish apparition indeed. He twists his scarlet mouth into an obsequious leer as he whines the lyrics of Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome. The character has no name, no dialogue. But in Joel Grey's insinuating performance, the sleazy, empty-souled, fanny-grabbing emcee of Berlin's Kit Kat Klub is not only the glue that holds the musical together but also the embodiment of a nation's depravity during...