Word: stenches
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...tarpon boats lay idle at their piers. Down the coast at Sarasota, merchants glumly watched the summer vacationists pack their bags and leave. The beach hot-dog stands were deserted at Indian Rocks and Pass-a-Grille; many beach cottages were empty. Under the hot summer sun, the stench of rotting fish seeped into houses, clung to clothes. The strange phenomenon which Floridians called the "Red Tide" had come back to the Gulf Coast...
...Irgun terrorists had chosen a forest preserve south of the seaside, town of Natanya for their revenge. There, a voice informed Tel Aviv newspapers by telephone, Sergeants Mervyn Paice and Clifford Martin could be found. And there, in a clearing heavy with the stench of death, the searchers found them. Their bloodied, blackened bodies swung to & fro from eucalyptus trees. Their shirts were wrapped around their heads. Through their clothes and flesh were pinned Irgun "communiqués" accusing the sergeants of "anti-Jewish crimes." They had died slowly, by clumsy strangulation...
Billingsgate's reputation for stench went to a new high; the cobbled streets around it were covered with fishy slime and refuse. Said one of its porters: "If this 'ad 'appened in the summer, we'd 'ave 'ad to wear our ruddy gas masks...
...filings in your enemy's teeth in such a way that he would be forced to listen to radio programs wherever he wandered. For to even the casual ear--provided its owner is someone halfway bright--present-day American radio is an unrealized and lackluster medium. "It is a stench in the nostrils of the gods of the ionosphere," says radio pioneer Lee DeForrest, and columnist Robert C. Ruark contributes these adjectives: "Corny, strident, boresome, florid, repetitive, offensive, moronic, and nauseating." Occasionally big radio wheels like Mr. Stanton or Mr. Paley rise and plunge the dagger in their bressiz...
...from desperate male & female aristocrats, struggling frenziedly to retain their power and money, to hordes of sly, ice-hard usurers, pimps and blackmailers. The never-ending battle between these two groups is fought out in luxurious palaces, in squalid lodging houses, and cafés filled with the thick stench of "burned meat, restaurant napkins, and tobacco...