Word: hawkings
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Love Me, Love My Boa. In Carlsbad, N. Mex., District Judge C. Roy Anderson recessed the divorce case of Charles and Dale Wright when the couple could not agree on the value of their common stock: two cobras, two boa constrictors, one anaconda, two eagles, one hawk, four Gila monsters, one owl, five donkeys, two chimpanzees, two African lions, two mountain lions, two lynxes, three raccoons, one coyote, one porcupine, one skunk, one South African rattlesnake, and an unspecified number of Southwestern rattlesnakes...
...asks in a quaint prose, "to deceive a trout with an artificial fly-a trout that is more sharp-sighted than any hawk and more watchful and timorous than your high-mettled falcon is bold?" Deceiving trout with worms is also an art, the author believes, and a sport, too. He recommends "lively, quick, stirring" earthworms fattened on cream and eggs...
...second in runs batted in (52), and is hitting at a .318 clip. Often awkward last year, Mathews is "a major-league third baseman now," says Grimm. Fleetfooted Outfielder Bruton (30 stolen bases last year), usually the Braves' lead-off batter (.273), ranges centerfield like a hawk. Flanking Bruton are a pair of old pros, Leftfielder Sid Gordon, 34, and Rightfielder Andy Pafko, 32. They are the only men in the regular starting line-up who are in their 30s, and the only ones with more than a couple of years of major-league seasoning...
...sport boasted such immortals as Babe Ruth. Jack Dempsey, Earl Sande. Bobby Jones. Red Grange, Walter Hagen and Man o' War, the gentlemanly game of tennis came out of the private clubs into the national limelight. The man responsible for this revolution was a lanky, hunch-shouldered, hawk-faced competitor named William Tatem Tilden II. He was the greatest tennis player the world has ever seen, the one man in any U.S. sport who was without a peer. He did not always look as good as he really was. Determined never to be bored, Big Bill often deliberately made...
...Hawk-nosed Gaetano Marzotto, Count of Valdagno and Castelvecchio, scion of a long line of Italian textile men, hopped into his Lancia one day in 1949 and headed south through the boot of Italy for a vacation. When night fell, the count stopped at one bug-ridden hotel after another, looking for a place to sleep, but found them all booked solid. Marzotto finally slept in his car, woke up rumpled and resolved. He dashed back to Rome, called on President Einaudi and Premier de Gasperi, and asked: "Do you realize how much good tourist money Italy is losing...