Word: doored
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...sector, the big red brick building that houses Berlin's railway administration is occupied by Russians. One night last week small groups of striking transport workers sidled up to the building. At the entrance they disarmed two guards, rushed inside. While some strikers brandished guns at a door (see cut) behind which Russians were barricaded, 200 other strikers stampeded through the building, tore pictures of Lenin and Stalin from the walls. Only when four Russian officers, enraged by this desecration, screamed " 'Raus, 'raus!" (Out, out) and beat down on strikers with their fists, did the mob retreat...
That sign, tacked up on Painter Peter Hurd's studio door, is slim protection from the friends, neighbors, admirers and tourists who frequently overrun his ranch. Last week some of the visitors were being diverted to the nearby town of Roswell, N. Mex. by the new Hard wing of the Roswell Museum. It contained 31 of his lithographs and six of his spacious, sharply detailed paintings. The collection had been financed by an anonymous California donor, who planned to add more Kurd pictures each year...
While he was gone, two men walked into the sheriff's house. They had no trouble. The keys to the jail were on a cabinet in the living room, where the sheriff had left them, and the front door was open-"if I lock it the lock sticks," explained the sheriff. The men calmly picked up the keys and went upstairs to the cell. "Come on, Picky Pie, let's go," one said. Without a protest, Picky Pie walked out with them. Mrs. Hatcher, asleep downstairs, heard no commotion...
...camp at the Siglo Veinte (20th Century) tin mine, 12,000 feet high in the Bolivian Andes, Mrs. Elena O'Connor was preparing lunch. Her husband Tom, a Pasadena, Calif, engineer employed at the Patiño-owned mine, was visiting another U.S. engineer next door. Through her window Mrs. O'Connor saw 15 Indian miners rush to the neighbor's house and kick in the door. Minutes later the Indians came out dragging the two Americans, whose faces were blotched with blood...
...Margaret is the daughter of the King. No matter how seductively the moon may shine as she drives home from a party, there can be no stolen kisses; a Scotland Yard man is always present to see her indoors; often a lady-in-waiting is at the door, too. As one young Briton remarked last week, "I don't think she's much of a threat to the other girls. After all, how can you get romantic about someone when there's no possible future...