Word: pops
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...squad of British workmen marched round the cathedral city of Salisbury (pop. 33,000) one day last week, carefully painting broad white circles around the metal telephone posts. The men had not gone mad, as some Sarumites suspected; they were simply trying to protect Her Britannic Majesty's property from ill-mannered dogs. After much experiment, Post Office researchers had reached a solemn conclusion: that not even dire necessity will drive a normal dog to cross a bright white line. Instead, dogs try to sneak around the end of the line, and, in the case of a circle, never...
...reporter for the newspaper O Momento in the provincial capital of Goiania (pop. 55,430), Haroldo Gurgel, 22, knew that he had made some powerful political enemies. When he left his hotel one morning last week, four gunmen jumped him, dragged him to the city's central square. There, before a crowd of horror-stricken townspeople, they pushed Gurgel against a wall, pistol-whipped him half-unconscious, then pumped twelve bullets into him as he tried to crawl away. Two men who tried to help him were wounded. After that, the murderers calmly pocketed their pistols and strolled away...
...sturdy man wearing an unpressed suit and scuffed loafers strides determinedly across the Indiana University campus, students will nudge a newcomer and remark: "That's Dr. Kinsey." Beyond such modest attention, Kinsey has caused less stir in the college town of Bloomington (pop. 28,163) than almost anywhere else...
...automobiles, plumbing, cosmetics, store-bought underwear, high-school education and all manner of frivolity. Amish folk seldom break through the black homespun that seems to divide them from their neighbors, but when they do, outsiders get a glimpse of the strange life behind the curtain. Last week Hazleton, Iowa (pop. 550) was still agitated by such an escape: two Amish girls had gone out into the Devil's world...
...Blonde. As she sings, her hands flicker gaily through the air, over her body, across her face, like the hands of a village girl telling a story at the well. She dislikes sadness and expresses the feeling in broad caricatures of moaning pop singers. Hers seems to be the Montmartre of old, when sheep grazed its slopes and windmills turned. "I like sunshine and I live," she says. "I sleep with my windows open...