Word: saathoff
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Kenneth G. Saathoff ’09 RR: What will you miss most about Harvard?KS: Sunrise breakfast quesadillas. Hot breakfast in general.RR: After four years at Harvard, the greatest thing you can think of is a breakfast quesadilla?KS: I’ve actually never had one.RR: ...KS: I’ve never eaten a sunrise breakfast quesadilla.RR: So you lied?KS: I’m sorry. I was disingenuous.RR: Let’s start over. And let’s be honest this time. What will you miss most about Harvard? KS: I should have thought more about...
...their ID cards to prove that they were students, endured a lengthy wait and unseasonably cool weather—but their excitement suggested that the free ice cream would be ample compensation. “I’ve always liked J.P. Licks,” said Kenneth G. Saathoff ’09. “The ice cream is really creamy.” The Harvard senior listed Oreo cake batter as his favorite flavor at the 27-year-old company, but he said that he wanted to try the apple crisp. Even though he said he preferred...
...weak voice was just above a whisper. "We need help. Can you please help us?" Border Patrol Agent Stanley Saathoff turned a crank to unlock the door of a red Missouri Pacific boxcar sitting on a siding in the small town of Sierra Blanca, 90 miles southeast of El Paso. A naked young man threw himself into the startled agent's arms. "You've been sent from heaven," the man moaned...
...when Saathoff looked inside the dark car, he found a scene straight out of hell. Sprawled across the floor in the 100 degrees heat lay the naked bodies of 18 other young men. In their efforts to escape from the locked boxcar, they left gashes on the wood lining of the heavy metal door and used railroad spikes in a vain attempt to gouge through the floor. They had removed their clothes to lessen the effect of the intense heat, also to no avail. Some had chewed their tongues during convulsions, spilling blood on their cast-off clothing...
...until 7 a.m. on Thursday that Agent Saathoff heard the faint plea for help from Tostado. The coyote was believed to have fled back to Mexico. William Harrington, assistant chief of the El Paso Border Patrol, conceded that "we may never get our hands on him." The closest Harrington may come is the coyote's two confederates, whose sordid business led them to death in the boxcar that became a coffin...