Word: fogs
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Unpolluted Prose. As decreed by Founder Eddy, who from its first issue vowed to serve "the better class of people everywhere," the Monitor maintains "a steady flow of dispatches designed to pierce the fog of confusion and the dictates of prejudice." has won 89 journalistic awards-most of them, including a 1950 Pulitzer for Edmund Stevens' reporting on Russia, for its international coverage. With seven "overseas" bureaus -the Monitor considers "foreign" a derogatory word-it has one of the best-seasoned corps of foreign correspondents in the business. Explains British-born, 25-year London Staffer John May: "What...
...Uplift. Lerner deserves credit for recognizing, in disagreement with the Toynbee-esque patternmakers, that the U.S. is not merely a subdivision of Western civilization but, despite acknowledged Western roots, a truly new world under the sun. Yet this vision, like a few others, just barely flickers through the verbal fog banks. Readers who get as far as page 673 will sharply question Lerner's assertion that the U.S. is in a "moral interregnum," distrusting the old gods and uncertainly waiting for new ones, and that (page 947) America is on a descending arc of "inner social and moral vigor...
...midweek the preparedness subcommittee recessed. Thus far in its study of the state of U.S. defenses, it had learned that far too much of the Pentagon is wreathed in fog and confusion...
...Heavy fog lay on London, and from Lewisham to Hammersmith, scarcely a car moved. Buses inched along the streets and trains moved cautiously along their rights of way. The 5:18 from Charing Cross to Kent that evening ground to a stop just past St. John's station to wait its turn at Park's Bridge Junction, which Londoners call the "busiest strip of railway line in the world." The electric train's ten coaches were pack-jammed, with more than 1,000 passengers caught up in the confusion of the heaviest pea-souper in two years...
...driven 4:56 from Cannon Street was headed out for Ramsgate and the channel coast. Overhead, on the viaduct that crosses the main lines on the southeastern edge of London, an electric local was inching forward. At precisely 6:20, in a moment of ghostly horror, the blanket of fog was lit by a blinding blue flash. St. John's grimy brick houses rocked to a crash that sounded, said one resident, "like the explosion of a ton of bombs." Plunging ahead in the fog, the steam train had plowed into the rear of the electric train, whipped around...