Word: sackings
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...elderly Navajo, Sidney Yazzie, walked ten miles through drifts to the White Water trading post, stuffed his burlap sack with groceries, and when Trader Cal Foutz asked why he had not ridden his horse, laconically replied: "The horse didn't want to go." Another Indian, bored by the snow-bound routine in his mud-and-wood hogan, went for a horseback ride and waved casually at a passing haylift helicopter- then was nearly bombed by bales of unneeded hay and canned goods...
...story didn't suit Lewis, whose sleuthing disclosed that Blondin was an imperturbable craftsman. He was a child prodigy on the rope at six. By the time he tackled Niagara at 36, he was able to go across once on stilts, another time with both feet in a sack, once again with a man on his back. On one occasion he sat down on the rope and devoured an omelet...
...review of M. by John Sack '51 (that's Harvard '51), for example, reviewer Gerald Bruck does not settle for an analysis of this eyewitness account of the training, traveling and first Vietnam battle of a marine company. He interviews the author, and finds that Sack reported and wrote the entire thing without really knowing how he felt about the war. He decided four months after returning to the United States that he opposed it. Bruck's extra effort turned into some interesting copy...
...John Sack (New American Library, $4.50), a racy and vibrant chronicle of an American infantry company's preparation for combat and its baptism of fire in Viet Nam; and NO PLACE TO DIE by Hugh Mulligan (Morrow, $5.95), a catalogue of the many different varieties of fighting in Viet Nam, are both correspondents' books depicting war's unvarnished nastiness. Both also recall the long stretches of inaction between horrors, and each author has an ear attuned to the incongruities, the horseplay and simple compassion of fighting men that explain why soldiers do not turn into professional killers...
Chuck Berry drops clumsily to his knees to retune his guitar. An old man with pointed loafers and a ducktail--what is he doing holding an electric guitar and talking about rock 'n roll? He seems to belong on a park bench somewhere, drinking wine from a paper sack...