Word: laredos
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Resplendent in a magenta shirt and fringed-leather jacket, Dr. Timothy Leary, 49, the guru of psychedelia, heard a Laredo, Texas, jury convict him for the second time of smuggling marijuana from Mexico in his daughter's underwear. "Stay loving and keep cool," advised the smiling impenitent, whose first conviction for the 1965 border incident was thrown out by the Supreme Court. "I am sorry the Government learned nothing in five years...
...slight, bespectacled electronics engineer who worked on secret U.S. defense contracts was escorted by Mexican policemen across the international bridge at Laredo, Texas. He was immediately arrested by the FBI. Morton Sobell, then 33, had been in Mexico for two months, using a string of aliases. The U.S. Government was later to contend that Sobell had been planning to flee behind the Iron Curtain after six years of spying for the Soviet Union. Sobell vigorously denied the accusation, but his trial for espionage resulted in a 30-year jail sentence. Morton Sobell was soon forgotten by most Americans. Last week...
...first read Malcolm Lowry's Under the Volcano on the all-night train trip from Central Mexico to the U.S. border at Nuevo Laredo. The trip, particularly in the second class compartment, easily beats a coast-to-coast Greyhound for discomfort. Mexican women with three children and a rooster buy one ticket, and then, once on the train, let their charges squirm their way over into the seat that you, God damn it, paid full fare...
...elbow their way off, and another seventy push in from the station to get on. Towards the end of the trip, as your back begins to stick to the disintegrating leather of the old upright seats, the sunrise lights up the outskirts of the miserable border town of Nuevo Laredo, sweltering colorlessly in the semi-desert of Northern Mexico...
...began Under the Volcano as the train left the quiet, modern city of San Luis Potosi, read through the night, and finished it just outside of Nuevo Laredo. Even from the first deliberately subdued chapters, I found the novel completely engrossing. By the mid-point I was entirely under Lowry's spell. The distractions of each station-stop became intertwined with the awesome experience of discovering Malcolm Lowry. A small pig urinated on my duffle bag, right there in the car. Lowry's Consul awoke from a drunken stupor, trying to focus on the scorpion in front of him, stringing...