Word: drews
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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CARROLL CLOAR, a Southern painter who never studied painting, aptly describes the budding spirit of the young artist: "At first it was only cowboys, then it was baseball and football players. Finally I drew a cowgirl...
...produce an entirely new, minority-balanced history, and the first, Benziger Brothers' Land of the Free, is kicking up a storm. It says that "in a few instances, an aroused slave killed a hated overseer or his master." Later, it reports that the present-day civil rights drive "drew savage resistance from local police, the White Citizens Council, the Ku Klux Klan, and mobs and assassins." When proposed for use in California schools, Land of the Free was denounced from the right as being "unAmerican" and too "internationalist," and from the left for not paying enough attention to Mexican...
...youth, he listened in on back-porch yarn spinning, submitted to hell-fire-and-damnation sermons, saw ghosts at the foot of his four-poster and, like many another adolescent, doubted his own provenance ("Was I adopted? Had I been stolen from the gypsies?"). Unlike most children, though, he drew constantly. "At first it was only cowboys, then it was baseball and football players. Finally," he recalls, "I drew a cowgirl." Not long after, Cloar, like many an ambitious Southerner-in real life as well as in Faulkner novels-set out for Memphis...
Tragic Timetable. Back home?it was now after midnight?Whitman stabbed his wife three times in the chest, apparently as she lay sleeping, and drew the bed sheet over her nude body. Then he returned to the note?partially typewritten, partially handwritten, partially printed?that was to be his valedictory. Included was a tragic timetable: "12:30 a.m.?Mother already dead. 3 o'clock?both dead." He hated his father "with a mortal passion," he wrote, and regretted that his mother had given "the best 25 years of her life to that man." Clearly, the erratic orbit...
...ammunition and weapons, Shockey played dead-through no fewer than six searches. Other North Viet namese fanned out through the jungle, looking for the five men who had slipped through the fire. "Come out, G.I.s," they shouted, "we want you." As a heavy rain swept down and the shouts drew closer, the five made a pact. "We won't surrender, right?" whispered Sergeant Willie Glaspie. "To the finish," agreed Sergeant Francisco Pablo. But the North Vietnamese gave up the search and cleared...