Word: midnight
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Last week Coach Dougherty drove into the same old mousetrap-a fare picked up at midnight in the Loop, an arm around the neck and a razor at the throat. Dougherty turned over $30, all he carried. But the razor wielder wildly demanded more money, sprawled into the front seat, pulled a pistol, and said, "I'm going to kill you anyway." Figuring "by then I had run out of chances," Dougherty grabbed the pistol and killed his fare, a 23-year-old dope addict...
With this neatly executed bit of arson, the EOKA men marked a switch from a policy of passive resistance (TIME, March 17) to a nonshooting campaign of selected sabotage. All week long bombs went off. A pump house supplying water to a British camp was blown up; one midnight a building stocked with shiny new government lottery machines suddenly belched smoke; Cypriots crowded the streets to watch a garage filled with government farm machinery light up the sky. Troops, police and firemen were kept running, but their only captures were 220 sticks of dynamite found hidden under a truckload...
Cambridge as an intellectual community does a good deal more talking than it does creating. From clubroom to European coffee house, the accent is generally on semantics. Literature, as such, remains for maladjusted night people who pound away at typewriters between midnight and two, and file their work in big manila folders...
...committees call between the hours of four and six in the afternoon at first, then between seven-thirty in the evening and midnight. On the basis of a few minutes of stereotyped small talk the committees rate the eligibles, and the clubs immediately begin cutting their lists, most "from the top" as well as "from the bottom." Each night fewer clubs come calling at a given room. If, on the last night of the Bicker period, a sophomore is still receiving a committee, he has probably procured a "first-list bid." If not, and he has good friends whom...
...Around midnight, the clubs run out of liquor and every door on Prospect Street spews forth a jubilant stream of staggering sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Leaning on each other, singing, shouting, a few pausing at the gutter to retch quietly for a moment then loudly rejoining the buoyant inebriated throng, they totter off toward the campus or a cafe where they can calm down with a cup of coffee. The fraternal transport is now at its beatific height. Arm in arm they reel indifferent to traffic or the piercing cold; one lifts his hands to the frigid heavens and races...