Word: sunsets
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...quaint notion that government is both evil and unnecessary has had its principled advocates for centuries. But a modern-day group championing that impractical idea saw its claims to respectability vanish one day last week in an eruption of automatic rifle fire just before sunset on a normally quiet North Dakota prairie. In less than a minute, Kenneth Muir, 53, chief U.S. marshal in the state, and Deputy Marshal Robert Cheshire Jr., 32, had been killed. Deputy Marshal James Hopson, 59, was rushed to a hospital in critical condition. So, too, was Yorivon Kahl, 23, son of Gordon Kahl...
...when 150 feet of San Diego's Crystal Pier toppled into the sea. High surf also washed away a restaurant and the harbor master's quarters on the 1,200-ft. Santa Monica pier. Beachfront houses in the communities of Venice, San Diego, Seal Beach, Ventura and Sunset Beach were extremely hard-hit. In the exclusive Malibu colony, waves left the homes of Film Stars Bruce Dern, Burgess Meredith and Dyan Cannon awash with debris. "I knew it was all over," said Colony Resident Becky Ilagen, "when I saw the hot tub sail by into the ocean...
...should be added that Borg always hopped up from the grass quickly, because he will be missed for his grace here too. Posturing in sport to day has become almost a sport itself. Like a man beholding his first sunset, baseball's Reggie Jackson stands and admires every home run. After sacking the quarterback, football's Mark Gastineau removes himself to a clearing and makes muscles. Borg, who had "the right kind of courage," as Bergelin once said, never pointed to himself. He never even seemed to care if anyone read the advertisements. - By Tom Callahan
...Ching, LSD and the excellent vegetarian curries at the Hare Krishna house in Portland. He swore off meat about this time and took up vegetarianism "in my typically nutso way." One temporary result, say friends, was skin tinted by an excess of carotene to the color of an early sunset...
...fading West: "The dead windmills lost behind the high wire of a missile range, the stove-up old cowboy at the unemployment of fice, the interstate that plunges through the homesteads . . ." Threatened by land development and automated meat production, folks less durable than cowpunchers would have ridden into the sunset long ago. Yet they hang on, as evidenced by Vanishing Breed (New York Graphic Society; 144 pages; $29.95). More than 100 evocative photographs catch ranch hands and horses in landscapes where the Old West and the new one jostle for position: an AM-FM portable rests on a chuck wagon...