Word: lair
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...remaining rebels had come out of the jungles and surrendered. Encouraged, Rahman extended the amnesty deadline until next April 30, showered 12 million safe-conduct passes into the forests. But he had less success with Chin Peng, 36, Chinese-educated leader of the guerrillas. From his jungle lair across the border in neighboring Thailand, Chin Peng sent word that he would be willing to meet Rahman only to discuss "an end to the war," not a surrender. Snapped the Tengku last week: "Unless and until Chin Peng is willing to surrender, there will be no meeting...
...Crimson soccer team this afternoon will take on a Bruin with a tendency to use his claws in the clinches and will do so in the shadows of his own lair, in Providence...
...below the dizzying spires of cinematic art (musicals, adult westerns), lower even than the swarming, unswept streets of cinematic commerce (cops-and-robbers films, childish westerns), lies a dank catacomb, for years the lair of wound-up scientists, unwound mummies, vampires, hyperpituitary apes, cat men, spacemen and skirt-chasing tyrannosaurs. Here budgets are low, actors obscure (Bela Lugosi is dead and Boris Karloff has graduated to TV) and taglines visceral: The Man Who Turned to Stone ("Incredible revelations from the blackest annals of medicine!"), Zombies of Mora Tau ("A tide of terror!''), Half Human ("Half-man, half-beast...
...three stars, only Audrey Hepburn, with her precocious child's head set upon a swanlike neck, looks the part. She is perfectly the Natasha described by Tolstoy: "A dark-eyed little girl, plain, but full of life, with her wide mouth, her childish bare shoulders ... her black lair brushed back, her slender arms . . ." In her playing, Audrey catches the gamine qualities of Natasha, and her softness. What is lacking is the steely courage that would let Natasha brand her flesh with a red-hot iron to prove her love. Instead of a total commitment to life, there is more...
...pine grove. Or a 15-lb. turkey gobbler hurtling into a charge of No. 6 shot, and then falling through the Spanish moss on the oaks onto the dry palmettos below. Or the catfish, at his grandfather Brandon's farm, that stole his bait, sneaking off to its lair. Or how hot it was picking corn in the August...