Word: fuse
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Delayed Fuse. This brings the Harvard researchers to the enigmatic epidemic. First noted in war-ravaged Rumania in 1915, it was an inflammation of the brain that left some victims comatose for weeks or months-hence its medical name of encephalitis lethargica, or "sleeping sickness." Unrelated to any form of sleeping sickness previously known, it was apparently caused by a virus. The epidemic reached the U.S. in 1918, died out by 1926. No proved case has been found since. The virus vanished...
...York City's currently unpopular brand of virus x is unusual mainly in its treacherous, delayed-fuse character. Dr. Diehl's case began in mid-February with a sore throat that burned all the way down into her chest. The next day she went to her office, but felt seedy, flushed and achy. It hurt her to move her eyes. Her temperature went up to 100.5. Dr. Diehl prescribed aspirin for herself...
...which Mr. Aaron's broad comic direction could do nothing to alleviate. There are no points made, no point of view maintained, and I have a suspicion that there were none intended. Mr. Houghton tries to be Pirandello, but perhaps because he is attempting to be fashionable, he cannot fuse the poetry of the language and the dramatic technique into a real and original point of view...
...Thurber played himself with fluffless finesse in a twelve-minute sketch about a writer embroiled in a frustrating correspondence with his bureaucratic publisher. Since the role calls for him to be seated throughout, Thurber's blindness was no handicap, and Meredith felt that the part "lit an old fuse in him; he seems to have come up with some peculiar stage ability." Equally enthused, the New York Times critic labeled the actor "the perfect Thurber." Drinking it all in, the Great White Way's white-haired new hope announced that he would remain in the role...
Fellow with a Fuse. No other federal agency chief wields as much power as Quesada (or causes as much furor). Every morning he barges out of his rented town house on California Street in northwest Washington carrying the last night's bundle of homework, hops into the rear seat of a chauffeured, telephone-equipped Government Lincoln and heads down the avenue. In his cherry-plywood-paneled office, he pulls off his jacket and goes to work standing up. Pacing the floor, he rattles his points over the phone (President Eisenhower is "Sir," everybody else "Fellow"), dictates a blistering letter...