Word: dock
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Frail-looking but alert, Barbie, 73, was led out of the bulletproof, glass- screened dock at Lyons' Palace of Justice. As rooftop sharpshooters stood at the ready, he was driven in a heavily guarded motorcade back to his quarters at St. Joseph Prison, a short distance from the site of his former Gestapo offices. In recent days Barbie had reportedly been weighing whether to exert his right under French law to stay away from the trial, which he denigrated as a "lynching campaign led by the French media." The tactic is not unprecedented. Last February, Lebanese Terrorist Georges Ibrahim Abdallah...
...Gulliver surrounded by political Lilliputians. But then came the most harrowing public ordeal ever endured by a modern presidential contender: a media trial that made George Romney's "brainwashing" and Edmund Muskie's public tears seem almost laughable in comparison. Like Hester Prynne, Hart stood in the public dock accused of adultery...
...appear behind any Wal-Mart checkout counter to help the clerk approve a personal check. Or you may see the same grandfatherly figure driving his red-and-white 1984 Ford pickup through the parking lot, counting customers' cars as he goes. Or he may show up at the loading dock with a bag of doughnuts for a surprised crew of workers. Or, at a new-store opening, he may round up the employees for a pep rally at which he will serve as head cheerleader. "Give me a W! Give me an A!" he will yell...
...hospital items -- syringes, bedpans -- that could pose a health hazard. The bales were also beginning to ooze, and inspectors feared the scum would leak into the river. Governor Edwin Edwards half jokingly threatened to deploy National Guardsmen on the levees with orders to shoot if the barge tried to dock. As the vessel meandered about the Gulf of Mexico, Louisiana Attorney General William Guste trashed federal authorities. "The Environmental Protection Agency was not watching it at all," he said. "If that barge tips or runs into a storm, the garbage could end up on our shores...
...boats were on our tail, and no bridges were in sight for at least a few minutes. For those few seconds, I felt an unusual rush of completeness and connection with the rowers. I was their eyes, and I was doing the job correctly. I made it into the dock in triumph, experiencing the type of thrill that for me was usually came after a good exam or editing a story well...