Word: strayed
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...deviate can expect at a policemen's ball." Thus New York Timesman Russell Baker, 36, once explained why he covered Washington with appropriate solemnity. In time, the solemn rounds began to pall; Baker was about to join another paper when the Times suddenly gave him a chance to stray. By last week, calling himself "Observer," Baker was solidly ensconced as the Times's editorial-page satirist...
...million installation, a cubist's delight of domes and circles, triangles and squares. Inside the geometric shapes are housed four separate radar networks, the guts of the Nike-Zeus system: one detects ICBMs from 1,000 miles out; another, the "discrimination" radar, distinguishes genuine warheads from decoys and stray space debris; target-tracking radar follows the ICBMs on their reentry; and missile-tracking radar guides the Nike-Zeus to its target. Computers-one capable of 200,000 calculations per second- handle information so swiftly that the whole process lasts two or three minutes from detection to interception...
...shot. Then the wind faded and the device was detonated. Standing on a mountain-top 57 miles away, observers could not hear the explosion. But they saw its effect perfectly: a great mass composed of thousands of tons of granite boulders, sand, clay, yucca trees, sagebrush, tumbleweed, and even stray kangaroo rats, rabbits and rattlesnakes was hurled 7,000 ft. into the sky. It seemed to hesitate, then crashed to the earth in a cloud of dust...
...small room in the house on stilts was blue with cigar smoke as the three princes and the general argued the final details. Slovenly soldiers of all three factions loitered on the porch, sometimes poked their heads curiously through the glassless windows. Below, amid mud puddles and stray dogs, newsmen scrambled for vantage points...
...make a shot, then you shouldn't try it. But when you start getting cautious, you start to lose." Nobody has ever accused Palmer of caution. On the course, he is a duffer's delight: when his putts hang on the lip and his drives stray, Palmer bangs his clubs against the turf, twists his face into a grimace of pain, mutters angrily: "Stop hitting like a woman!" or "Head down, head down, for God's sake!" It is at the crucial moments, when most golfers get rattled and come unstrung, that Palmer plays his best golf...