Word: harboring
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Frank Murphy was confirmed in the Catholic Church at Harbor Beach, Mich., when he was twelve years old. That year all the children in his class at the parish church pledged themselves to drink no alcoholic liquor before their majority. For fervid Frank Murphy that was not enough. He went home, took a further pledge: to his adored mother he vowed he would not touch a drop so long as he lived...
Also that year in Owosso, 100 miles from Harbor Beach, little Tommy Dewey, aged 3, toddled about his Episcopalian father's home, unaware of religion or abstinence...
Early last month when she arrived, late one afternoon, a chill wind was blowing a gale out of the east. The clouds hovered above the harbor like dark birds of prey. A few wild geese muttered with shrill voices among themselves; debating whether to stay or go. Later the rain came, slanting, with an edge. Inside the little cabin the drops knifed against the window with a hollow, drumming sound. In such a storm the bell sounded, there was the clatter of casting off, a seaman's voice rasped somewhere down by the shore...
...afternoon after the sunlight grew even paler and a slightly ribald wind swung in from the sea. The waves piled in on the tide, foamy against the rocks. She walked over the gray-green downs to the bluff. One by one the lobster men putted in toward the harbor in a single snaky line. Later the sim thinned out into a crimson wash in the west. A slight wispy fog made up. As she walked homeward along the shore around the harbor, a moon began to rise. It appeared diffused through the misty, foggy veil. Off, a little to itself...
Before next dawn the two-decked Clipper landed in the harbor at Horta, in the Azores. Delaved more than six hours while swamped Horta postal employes stamped 23,000 letters, she got to Lisbon 26½ hours after leaving the U. S. From there the Clipper made an easy hop to the end of the line at Marseille...