Word: hameline
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...children. Out came the riot squad, up went the headlines: FIVE THOUSAND GIRLS FIGHT TO GET VIEW OF FRANK SINATRA. A scrawny, wistful little piper had come to town, and the younger generation was following him in far greater numbers and enthusiasm than ever it had shown for the Hamelin original-or for Rudolph Valentino himself. Wherever he went, fans mobbed him. Even at home, Sinatra was not safe. His house in Hasbrouck Heights, N.J. was ringed all day and half the night by gazing girldom. Originally white, its sides were soon smeared with lipstick. Sometimes the girls made human...
Knoke's mold was that of most young Germans raised in Hitler's Reich. Born in Hamelin town, the son of a Prussian policeman who believed in the strap (for discipline) and the rifle (for exercise), he was press-ganged into the Hitler Youth and taught that the Führer knows best. When Germany attacked Poland ("to liberate the terrorized Germans"), Knoke wrote in his diary: "The prospect of actually experiencing war rather appeals...
...jailhouse. "There was something wrong about the tempo," he said. "Everything was too quiet." Searching for the cause, the sheriff came across a shaky-looking brick wall in the jailhouse basement. With one finger, he pushed bricks out on to Main Street. Then he searched his twelve prisoners. Frederick Hamelin had $60 in his pocket, another $145 sewn neatly into his pillow. Clyde B. Hamblin had $143 hidden in his bedding. Hamblin's and Hamelin's cells also yielded up a hoard of caviar, shrimp and imported cheeses...
From there on the rest was easy. Sheriff Perry found that Prisoners Hamelin and Hamblin were old hands at picking the old, rotary-type locks used in Burlington's jail. Each night after lockup, the two men would unlock their cells, drop down through an old manhole to the basement, poke through the brick wall, ransack deserted stores and return to the jailhouse. Why didn't they just keep right on going to freedom? Reasoned Sheriff Perry for his prisoners: why break up a good thing when you have a perfect alibi...
Like the charmed rats of Hamelin, Americans scamper to follow the compelling advertisement, convinced that it would be disloyal and remiss not to "remember mother," assured that one remembers her best with cash, once a year. The business index will rise perceptibly, the sweet smell of roses and caramels will steep the land, but on Monday mother will be back at the washtub or Garden Club, bored, neglected and tired. --from the May 9, 1947, CRIMSON