Word: fur
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Indeed, the gales of social criticism were already blowing before young Vincent Astor fully comprehended that he, at 20, was heir to one of the U.S.'s least popular traditions-fortune founded by great-great-grandfather out of fur trading with the Indians and Manhattan real estate; fortune battened down by grandfather and father upon acres of New York tenements bitterly known as "Astor Flats"; fortune tarnished when half the family moved to England because the U.S. was not "a fit country for gentlemen to live...
...muscled 240 Lbs. on a 6-ft. frame. In 1957, when Ydígoras made his turbulent campaign for the presidency, Cousin Julia led his street-demonstration gangs. With his victory, she hit the big time. In dinner jacket, she turned up at diplomatic functions with her attractive, fur-clad roommate, Carmen Gandara, 26. Julia first got a job bossing all public purchases, then talked Ydígoras into giving her the Education Ministry...
Naked Pink Lady. To this day, Sikkim's mountain climbers lift one flap on their fur caps, the better to hear the devils that always go uphill, never down. Lamas stage skeleton dances to drive away evil spirits. The country has no newspapers, and mail goes by pony express. There are no lawyers, because the government thinks that lawyers stir up more trouble than they are worth. A magistrate hears both sides of an argument, makes his judgment. Crime is so rare that there are never more than 15 prisoners in jail...
...annual riot of trading and boozing at the fur company store on Mackinac Island on a June afternoon in 1822, a gun went off accidentally and blasted a gaping hole in the belly of Alexis St. Martin, ig, a French Canadian voyageur. For the rest of his days he had a hole in his abdominal wall leading directly into his stomach. The blast that let the daylight into St. Martin's stomach enabled U.S. Army Surgeon William Beaumont, in years of experiments, to shed the first light on the mysteries of human digestion...
...pastries were aging but good. I loved to see Peter's strong teeth clamping down over them, demolishing them; I felt demolished too, and would order more. "Garcon," I would say to the diseased French girl who presided behind the marble-topped, crumb-lined counter, "por favor, una fumata fur meine fraulein." "Mynheer," she would always reply, smiling, and bring us another of Peter's favorite pear-filled, chocolate-covered fumates. You do not get such fumates everywhere. We would stay there in the warm pink exciting womb-like garret until the basketball jocks dropped in for pear-filled fumates...