Word: sirene
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...colony of only 600,000 inhabitants that is richly endowed with oil, manganese and uranium deposits-put on a dazzling performance for its guests. Arriving delegates were met at Libreville's tiny airport by fleets of Mercedes, Cadillacs and Rolls-Royces and escorted to the conference center by siren-screaming motorcycles. Along the route, thousands of women -draped with cloths emblazoned with the portrait of President Bongo-sang and swayed rhythmically to native drums. Exclaimed one overwhelmed observer: "My God, this makes Disneyland look real...
Nearby residents learned about the escape in the time-honored way: the siren began to wail. But with the phones out, Assistant Warden Clayton Davis had to send a man those six miles by car to report the escape to the sheriff in Wartburg. Capturing the wounded prisoner Ward was no problem; he was right outside the wall. Local roads were swiftly blocked off. But prison officials needed 45 minutes before they could organize a full-scale search. With six bloodhounds in the lead, a posse started after the group, which had disappeared in the direction of Frozen Head Mountain...
Psychic Return. One of the siren songs of newsletter publishing is the shoestring startup cost-typically $10,000, v. 50 to 100 times that much to start a magazine. "All you need is a typewriter, a mimeograph machine and an idea," says Ken Galloway, who founded Capitol Publications in Washington, D.C., eleven years ago with $750 in his pocket; today the firm publishes 19 letters, has a staff of 45 and grosses $2.5 million. Once established, overhead is low and profits are high. For the editors, there are less tangible rewards, like virtually complete freedom of expression. "The psychic return...
...phone his stockbroker. Beep. A volunteer fireman in Rockville Center, N.Y., jumps out of bed and into his uniform. Bweet. A Houston truck driver has a new delivery; and across town-bip-bip-an airline stewardess leaves her restaurant table to report for duty. Bweet. A vinyl-booted siren strutting her stuff on Times Square has a call-in customer...
...forget the rigors of the winter in a bout of self-indulgence. The theater, opera and ballet seasons are in full swing. Stores are about to burst forth with displays of brightly colored dresses and lightweight suits foretelling the not-quite-imminent spring. Airlines and travel agencies sing siren songs of palm trees bending in soft Caribbean breezes. And all these delights can be savored without dipping into the cash that must be hoarded to pay those monstrous winter fuel bills. Just flash a few rectangles of hard plastic embossed with cabalistic numbers, and enter the magic world...