Word: grocers
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Twenty-five states still allow the fee system in their traffic courts-meaning that the "judge," who might be a grocer, a barber, or even the local beauty-shop operator, is paid from the proceeds of fines. Some have been known to make $20,000 a year dispensing justice. The laws themselves are often unfair-or unenforceable. Speed limits that are set too low allow an officer to pick and choose when he should arrest someone. One of the greatest bluffs in U.S. traffic law is the New York City parking ordinance. Stern-looking green tickets, carrying a $15 fine...
...newly ordained Methodist minister in a small Texas town 19 years ago, he got a 2?-a-gal. discount on gasoline from his service station, the wholesale price when he bought household appliances, and an extra item or two free on his food order, courtesy of the local grocer. Jonte is still a minister in a small Texas town, but now he pays full price for nearly everything he buys. "The clergyman's discount," he says, "is completely gone...
...real romance is still in the wheel of fortune. Explains Carl-Alexander von der Groeben, promotion manager at Bad Neuenahr: "Somehow we are still surrounded by the ancient aura of being socially exclusive, and just a little bit illicit. You can see it in the face of the grocer's wife, who comes in and looks around to see if anyone there knows...
...just Mexicans in those days and Mexicans didn't mean much. I believe he really loved us as human beings." Adds Juan Gonzales, 50, a civil servant at Fort Sam Houston: "He respected the kids more than any other teacher we ever had." Says Manuel Sanchez, 48, a grocer: "He made us speak English. We did not like it at the time, but now we are happy he did." Echoes Juanita Ortiz, a waitress: "I remember him telling us seventh graders that anybody could be anything he wanted to be if he worked hard at it. As young...
...youth's despairs ("I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,/And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,/And in short, I was afraid"), he apparently scarcely knew its exhilarations. Though he was born in St. Louis, the son of a wholesale grocer, his roots ran back to New England and the upright Unitarianism of his clergyman grandfather. At Harvard, he dabbled in Sanskrit and Oriental religions, wrote his dissertation on the philosophy of F. H. Bradley. Prufrock, that lament of the aging, was published in his 20s. Looking back, the hunger...