Word: dak
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...interstate at a sedate 65 m.p.h., a westward-bound traveler may then dally at Omaha's splendidly revitalized Old Market, which evokes gold seekers and prairie pioneers heading out aboard the Union Pacific railway circa 1865. But by the time you reach Al's Oasis at Oacoma, S. Dak., on a bluff over the glistening Missouri River, all doubt vanishes as quickly as adherence to the speed limit on I-90. The proud sign at Al's, a pit stop featuring buffalo burgers and passable 5 cents coffee, unabashedly announces WHERE THE WEST BEGINS...
After Jack McCall shot Wild Bill Hickok in the back during an afternoon poker game in the Saloon Number 10 a century ago, gambling became a part of the rugged Wild West image prized by Deadwood, S. Dak. But in the 1960s the tiny town (pop. 1,900) nestled in the Black Hills outlawed gambling. And when the town's four brothels were shut down as public nuisances by a posse of federal, state and local law-enforcement personnel in 1980, Deadwood's tourist trade began to fade. "When we had open gambling here, when we had the cathouses...
...strong, thick fingers stroked the stubble on his chin. His black hair was cropped to its roots, his glasses coated at the edges with the grit from a morning of tilling in his stunted cornfield, which hugs a bluff above the Missouri River between Bismarck and Cannon Ball, N. Dak...
Both friends and foes have enlarged Kennedy beyond what he was in life to the point where it is hard to separate the myth from the man. Tim Giago, editor of the Lakota (S. Dak.) Times, runs a story every other year to commemorate the anniversary of the day Kennedy visited the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. "It was almost as if a saint had come and was reaching his hand to the people," he says. "He went to the grubbiest children and hugged and kissed them." But Bobby was, of course, much more complicated than the myth will allow, more...
...former noncoms and onetime generals can feel at ease as they retell old stories, many of them true. Merton Glover, a big, angular man of 69, retired years ago as a platoon sergeant. He trained as a horse soldier, but in 1942 he was transferred to Fort Meade, S. Dak., where the cavalry was experimenting with mechanization. The concept was shaky at first. "Their idea for a while was to have us all run around on motorcycles," says Glover. "I rode a big old Indian 45 all the way down to maneuvers in Louisiana, 1,500 miles, and then rode...