Word: houre
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...mother of one of her students was having difficulty adjusting to her mastectomy. The program has won the endorsement of doctors, physical therapists and the American Cancer Society. But its strongest supporters are its direct beneficiaries. The women, all between the ages of 32 and 64, meet for an hour and a half each week in Welch's airy studio to practice pliés and ronds de jambe, and to share their experiences...
...With no choice and hoping that el Caudillo was strong enough to withstand surgery, they had him wheeled from his bedroom to the infirmary of his personal guard's barracks, 200 yards from the palace, for an attempt to halt the massive internal hemorrhaging. In a three-hour operation, Dr. Manuel Hidalgo Huerta, an old friend, removed one bleeding ulcer from the wall of Franco's stomach and tied a large gastric artery that carries blood to the stomach wall. Franco was also given two gallons of blood, more than replacing his entire blood volume...
...Twelve-Hour Days. Browning says he has wanted to be a lawyer since he was six. At San Francisco's Hastings College of Law, he stood near the top of his class for the first year, then spent his final two years trying to keep academically afloat while he worked in a local law firm. After a stint as a tax editor for a legal publishing firm, he joined the San Mateo County district attorney's office in 1961. As chief trial deputy, Browning prosecuted 189 cases ranging from robbery to murder. In 1970, he was appointed...
...time has been spent prosecuting hundreds of draft evaders and a few black radicals. Browning answers that there have not been any very dramatic crimes, and anyway his role is primarily administrative. To prepare for Patty Hearst, though, he has been forcing himself and his staff through twelve-hour days devoted to the study of thousands of pages of S.L.A. and FBI documents...
...indeed. In Plymouth, after a half-hour warmup by the folksy, dungareed, unnamed back-up band, a figure became distinguishable at stage rear. It was a masked man in a gray cowboy hat and black leather jacket, looking slender and spindly, picking his way cautiously forward through the microphones and cables. He gave his guitar a few licks and then, from behind the mask, started singing. The applause began to grow. After a pulsating rendition of an old favorite, It Ain 't Me, Babe, he pulled back the mask to reveal the familiar ironic smile and hawk...