Word: saws
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Beyond Fortas' personal agony, some saw in him the pathetic symbol of the Johnson years-that perhaps he was even representative of the old liberal era that began with the New Deal. Motivated by unquestioned humanitarian ideals, many such men nevertheless grew so accustomed over 30 years to power and influence-and the material goods both brought-that they believed they could do no wrong. Lyndon Johnson's self-righteous dismissal of his critics was not so very different from Abe Fortas' arrogant assumption that he had done nothing wrong in dealing with a man like Wolfson...
...George's hospital bed last fall. He had just had a heart attack three days before that, but he seemed to be stronger now. His face looked healthy; it had a tautness and tone that I hadn't seen for a long time. When I first saw him at Preservation Hall, every muscle and vein in his face tensed and pulsed with his music...
...opened the door and saw maybe two hundred people crowded around, talking quietly to one another. Some were sitting on folding chairs, some were standing up in the back of the room. The hallway was jammed and two other rooms were full of people. Every musician I knew was in there: the old men, the young foreigners, women, children, black and white. There were brief smiles and handshakes and soft words. There were tears. There were cameras and floodlights, and reporters from magazines...
...Prince had other triumphs as well. Lacking any identity other than his rank--what else was needed?--the Prince attracted people. They could see reflections of themselves in his eyes. But the Prince was worried. Was he really living? After worrying a long time, he saw that the people who really lived either had renounced their titles or, through some oversight, never had them. The Prince resolved to forget his title on a trial basis...
...band had moved down the street and started playing again to get the crowd away from the scene. I tried to catch up with them, but I was too exhausted to run. Then I saw a black parade cap just in front of me. It was Sammy Alcorn, calmly oiling the valves of his trumpet...