Word: hawkers
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...used to ride around with my grandfather in a horse and buggy," remembers Katherine Buffett, 93, of her childhood on a Nebraska farm. "Sometimes he would let me drive the horse myself." These days, when Mrs. Buffett hunkers down in her Hawker 1000 jet, the pilot does not offer her the reins. But he always gets her back home to Omaha on time...
Executive Jet commands more than 75% of the fractional-ownership market--down from 100%. Its success has lured a couple of jetmakers into the game, including Raytheon, which sells Beech and Hawker jets. Bombardier, a leading competitor, is adding fractional owners at a rate of more than 100 a year; it has more than 350 clients using 65 Learjet and Challenger aircraft. A booming economy continues to enlarge the ranks of fractional flyers. Over the past 3 1/2 years, Executive Jet has ordered 590 aircraft, paying $9.75 billion and expanding into Europe and Asia...
...loot the stalls. Two boys approach a seller from the right, two from the left, and they begin to argue. While the seller is distracted, a fifth boy grabs a jar of jam or milk. Sometimes, when the hunger is bad, the boys will simply run up to a hawker, grab a handful of food and run. And sometimes they are caught. "The cops know we're only trying to survive, and they let us go," says Alen Berglerovic, the best thief in the school. "What can they do to us? We already live in a prison...
...Quinn sets out to expose a mill owner who is polluting the town's drinking water with mercury. In another, she fights with a bank officer who won't lend her money because she's a single woman. Indians in Dr. Quinn are not hostile, just misunderstood; a hawker of phony patent medicines turns out to be a surgeon who grew disillusioned after witnessing battlefield carnage during the Civil War. Seymour, as the town's doctor, psychologist, police force and environmental chemist rolled into one, is the biggest anachronism of all. But a right purty...
...bins in the shop is cluttered with wing sections, striped fabric, fuselage stringers and bulkheads. No plane is immediately discernible in this jumble of disparate parts. You stare for a few seconds, and then the puzzle begins to come together -- a Hawker Hurricane. You drift back 49 years, and you can hear again the urgent voice of Edward R. Murrow coming over the old cathedral radio, describing the dogfights above him in the Battle of Britain. Hurricanes, though less glamorous than the legendary Spitfires, took more punishment and could be patched up and sent back into battle quicker...