Word: pilsen
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...implication is that the average American girl could be considerably improved by the regular application of a rubber truncheon. Some may agree, but the heroine of this picture is not much of an advertisement for the method. Essentially, she is just one more gabby, opinionated woman, and whether from Pilsen or Pawtucket, she seems a bit of a bore...
...their district, they sent for a young local plant pathologist named Cestmir Novacek and ordered him to liquidate the nasty, crawling little capitalists. For five years everything went fine, and the "invasion" took little toll of Horazdovice's potatoes. This year, however, the potato harvest in the Pilsen area was a bust. The fact that it could all be blamed on the weather did not satisfy the Communists. Again the commissars sent for Pathologist Novacek...
Last week, in a Pilsen court, Cestmir solemnly told his story: instead of destroying the beetles, he had made pets of them. "I intended," he said, "to trace their biological development, but when the larvae became beetles, I got the idea of performing an antistate act. I stopped in a slope under Vlkovec Hill, opened my box and threw my beetles into a potato field. I hated the people's democratic regime because the working class had nationalized my sandstone pits...
When the local Reds came around one day and told Vaclav Uhlik that they were going to nationalize his small machine shop in Pilsen, Vaclav made up his mind. He would escape to the West. Cautiously, he enlisted some friends in his plan: two Czech soldiers, a gardener named Josef Pisarik, Libuse Cloud, who had married an American G.I. from Sioux City back in 1949, but had never been able to get out of Czechoslovakia to join him. Then Vaclav swapped his most precious possession, a diesel engine, for a beaten-up British halftrack abandoned after...
Sleepy police patrols in Pilsen hardly glanced at it. By 5 a.m. the car had reached the barbed-wire border area. Vaclav wrenched the wheel, lurched off the road and into the wire barrier. Czech border guards stood by, mouths agape, as the machine snorted through the wire and crossed into West Germany. None fired, or even raised a Tommy gun. The car rumbled westward for several miles before West German police caught up with it. Vaclav "unbuttoned" the armor and out tumbled eight happy Czechs. "I want to get to my husband and the U.S. the fastest way," said...