Word: ganged
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Morales, 26. A stevedore like his father, he usually works on the United Fruit pier. About three or four days of the week his name moves high enough on the union hiring hall's list for him to get taken on. Then, togged like the rest of the gang (some 365) in old pants, shoes and T-shirt, he wallops sacks of sugar, coal, assorted cargo from 7 till 5. At week's end he may have earned...
...Cleveland, a landlord named Arthur Clark hit on a novel way of evicting tenants who refused to pay more than OPA rents. He hired a gang of thugs, equipped them with pistols, blackjacks, clubs and a baseball bat, sicked them on his tenants. One tenant died of a cracked skull. Last week Clark and one thug were convicted of second-degree murder, sentenced to life imprisonment...
...instance, poetic justice did not wait for the moderates. One night last week in the Street of the Prophet, a gang of terrorists were literally hoisted on their own petard. Their car, a 1941 Plymouth, swerving under the impact of a British machine-gun burst, hit a traffic island. Then, with door open and amatol mines falling out, it swerved and hit a child, crumpled into a tree, and exploded, blowing the two occupants into tattered shreds. Several houses on both sides of the street collapsed as the mines went off. All that remained of one Arab-style villa...
...Gang. On the official Politburo list (more important than gorodki scores) Zhdanov now stands fourth-after Stalin, Molotov and the hated Lavrenty Beria, head of the secret police. Of those below Zhdanov, his most serious rival is Georgi Malenkov, 44, a brilliant backstairs intriguer. Others are Anastas Mikoyan, the Armenian foreign trade chief, who enjoys Stalin's personal favor but has little party following, and a dark horse, Nikolai Bulganin, the political boss of the Army. Molotov, Beria and Malenkov are loosely grouped as the reactionary anti-Westerners. But as long as Stalin lives the whole gang will stick...
Chatter & Curiosity. When the whim takes him, Dadswell goes to sea, works in the black gang or deck crew, returns with human-interest yarns that set him solid with his plain-folks readers. He has none of the synthetic open-eyed wonder of the late O. 0. Mclntyre, or the troubled sympathy of Pyle. Says Dadswell: "I always have a specific story in mind when I make a trip. Soon I am going to Cuba to find out if Sloppy Joe's is really sloppy and if a guy named Joe really runs...