Word: smoked
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...societies that quoted a former Portland boy named Chuck Swanman. On "Hell Night" he had been taken to a faraway golf course "where the cops can't hear you yell," forced to drink a mixture of a searing hot sauce compounded with pepper and garlic and ordered to smoke a handful of cigars, inhaling every puff. After he vomited, the "hackers" went to work, whacked him 50 times with an inch-thick paddle. "Some of the kids give themselves shots of Novocain," Chuck reported, "but that just hurts worse when it wears...
...trash can. That was successful, so he went to work blueprinting a new locomotive. To find out what was wrong with old engines, Loewy rode them for thousands of miles, noting such things as the absence of a toilet for the crew (he installed one), and the fact that smoke sometimes obscured, the engineer's vision (he devised a vane to deflect it). He wound up designing not only new locomotives but whole new trains for Pennsylvania (Broadway Limited, "Spirit of St. Louis," The General, Liberty Limited, etc.), and modern new stations as well. Now he is pondering...
Nicholas Mavrides, one of the four men serving state prison sentences for the $50,000 smoke bomb theft from the Harvard Coop, has been recommended for 35 days of mental observation at the Bridgewater State Hospital...
Istanbul's paved boulevards and narrow cobbled streets echo with the shrill tootle of otomobiller dodging rickety, horse-drawn carts and blind beggars. Smoke-blackened industrial towers, dubbed "Ataturk's minarets," jut skyward between the graceful spires of the Ottomans. The muezzin still calls the faithful to prayer, but in place of flowing robes, he wears a Western business suit. Near the waterfront, hollow-eyed children stare from the windows of tottering wooden tenements. In the dimly lighted bar of the sleek Park Hotel, Turkish intelligence agents mingle with American engineers and Balkan refugees, drinking the latest Yankee...
...also use some unashamed, sugary, overripe prose: "And it came on toward night, and the sun was down and the fire of its setting dead, and the coyotes were beginning to yip on the hills and the stars to light up, and there was the good smell of aspen smoke in his nose." But most readers will be thankful for a fictional fidelity to time & place that is wholly exceptional among Guthrie's competitors...