Word: shells
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Since last summer, Charles Laquidara has interrupted his rock-'n'-roll rap on Boston's WBCN-FM to urge commuters to boycott Shell Oil. Pointing out that an affiliate of the Royal Dutch/Shell Group supplies fuel to South Africa's army and police, the deejay has persuaded more than 1,000 listeners to cut up their Shell credit cards...
Laquidara won his biggest convert last week when Mayor Ray Flynn signed an order making Boston the first U.S. city to ban municipal purchases of Shell products. The move is largely symbolic: the city has done only $2,500 in business with Shell in two years. Calling the action "misguided," a Shell spokesman said the company has been a strong antiapartheid voice in South Africa. Boston was joined by Berkeley, whose city council ordered a similar boycott of Shell...
From Boston to Miami, from Dallas to Chicago, pool halls are back with a vengeance, with yuppies leading the way. New converts chalk their cues like old-timers and gladly shell out up to $10 an hour for tables, as classical music and the latest in jazz and rock play in the background. During the past 14 months, Manhattan has seen the opening of four plush pool palaces catering to upscale players. The Billiard Club, which opened in August and takes in an estimated 1,500 customers on weekends, has a downstairs Safari Room, where players shoot pool amid zebra...
...York City's trendiest night spots, the club's two tables are always occupied, as the glitterati take turns shooting and racking 'em up. In Chicago the equally hip Limelight has eight-ball tournaments, and at the new-wave Star Top Cafe clients can munch on soft-shell crab while waiting their turn. Even at old game dens, the pool surge is evident as the gentry mix with the proletariat. Says Richard Gaedt of Chicago's North Center Bowl: "In the past six months, our whole crowd has changed from older to younger, to yuppies." Adds Jillian's co-owner...
...keep fire for herself. The lion, panther, elephant and antelope vainly tried to persuade her to part with the secret. Then the chameleon had an idea. Straw was gathered and given to the tortoise. He sneaked it up to the sacred flame. The glowing embers were gathered under his shell and valorously brought home, safe forever from the jealousy of Mawu. The secret of Susan L. Roth's retelling lies in the strong rhythms of oral history and the stark tints of hand-dyed textiles...