Word: herded
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...night, I am always afraid," one veteran diver confesses. The audience shares his fear and fascination, and occasionally even his lethargy becomes swimmingly real. It is hypnotic and hilarious to watch a school of scallops, threatened by a starfish, go snapping across the ocean bottom like a herd of stampeding dentures. The film has its faults: it grows repetitious and tries to provide variety with music full of scubadoo cuteness. Thus, by the time the saucer plunges down for a climactic survey of the queer fish and mating crabs found at the 1,000-ft. level, most viewers will...
Spain's centuries of in-and overbreeding have produced bravery as well as hemophilia-and an anti-hero like Pascual Duarte. He is a rogue in the sense of being, like the fighting bull, specially bred, running separate from the herd, amuck, savage and destructive. He is a basic black part of the Spanish conscience...
...their answers on Wladyslaw Gomulka, Khrushchev's crusty crony whose approval Brezhnev and Kosygin greatly needed to placate other satellite leaders. Meeting Gomulka halfway, in the primeval depths of Bialowieza Forest on the Russo-Polish border, they conferred in a Czarist hunting lodge, while the last sizable herd of European bison stomped and snuffled outside; inside, B. & K. buffaloed Gomulka with reasons and reassurances. He went away satisfied enough to defend Khrushchev's ouster in a Warsaw speech two days later...
...funneled the crowd into the auditorium. As each parent entered the hall, Nevins shouted: "You have no legal right to be in this building. You are under arrest." Outside, 300 P.A.T. pickets turned nasty as dark-green police vans rolled up to a side entrance. When police tried to herd their prisoners into the vans, someone shouted, "Don't let them!" and the riot was on. The scuffle, brief but bloody, finally ended when a P.A.T. lawyer borrowed a bull horn from the police and calmed down his followers...
...President headed upstairs, followed by the herd of reporters, who were admitted to the President's private, second-floor living quarters for drinks, caviar and cheese canapes. Exploring the place, one brunette newswoman peered around a half-open door, quickly retreated. "The President is in his underwear!" she cried. While changing clothes in his bedroom, Lyndon watched a special three-screen TV unit that allowed him to see all the major networks at once. "I feel very relaxed," he told a reporter invited in for a chat, "and even relieved...