Word: steamboated
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Time turned backward for aging William Randolph Hearst. Once again, as in the days of his beloved Spanish-American War (when Hearst himself dramatically "invaded" Cuba from a chartered steamboat, captured 26 wet, befuddled Spanish sailors whose ship had been sunk in the Battle of Santiago), a Hearst reporter was dashing about, brushing the Army & Navy aside, taking strategically important objectives singlehanded, and revealing all. The reporter: bulky, handsome Clark ("Chang") Lee, 38. In six days, by his own word, Clark Lee had: ¶ Been the first to find "Tokyo Rose" (see RADIO...
Peorians have long been aware that steamboat men on the Illinois River had certain lusty "natural appetites," and many Peorians saw no reason to ignore them. The town's distilleries turned the corn harvest into liquor, and Peoria's back streets were always comfortably shaded by brothels, gambling joints and saloons. When the river trade fell off and industry (Caterpillar Tractor, Hiram Walker, Keystone Steel & Wire) came in, Peoria went on being the biggest little wide open town in the Midwest...
...Steamboats and Gold. Much of the country along the Missouri is still almost as wild as it was then. While Stanley Vestal was writing The Missouri near Sioux City, Iowa, the wild geese, held up in their spring flight by a six-inch snow, made such a racket that sleep was impossible. Through its loveliest country the Missouri is rich in historic sites that almost nobody ever sees because nobody ever uses the river for travel any more -old campgrounds, old trading posts and forts, Indian battlefields, old steamboat landings that date from the days when river boats pushed...
...Theater Guild) is a songbook history of American life. Combining folk music with Tin Pan Alley tunes, it warbles its way across the centuries-the voice of a canoeman floating down the Ohio, a chorus raised in an Illinois clearing, a medley of tunes on a Mississippi steamboat, a soldiers' rouse round a Civil War campfire, the guttural throb of Negro blues, the frilly ditties of the Gay Nineties, the brash rhythms of speakeasy jazz...
Colonel John Monroe ("Steamboat") Johnson, director of the Office of Defense Transportation, pushed his way through the milling mob jampacking the lobby of Chicago's Hotel Stevens. The farther he had to push, the madder he got; almost everyone he bumped was wearing some convention badge. Near the crowded elevators, his eye fell on the long list of conventions and meetings on the bulletin board. This was more than ODT's boss could bear. He roared: "There are more damn conventions in Chicago this week than there should be in the entire country...