Word: swamp
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...safety record unprecedented in commercial aviation. But last week, in the inexplicable pattern that seems to govern such disasters, two airliners went down, one on each coast, killing a total of 78 persons. Twenty-eight of them died when an Allegheny Airlines twin jet crashed in a swamp near Connecticut's Tweed-New Haven Airport. Another 50 were killed in the collision of a Hughes Air West DC-9 and a Navy F-4 Phantom jet over California's San Gabriel Mountains...
Offshore are the pristine Golden Isles?Jekyll, St. Simon's and Sea Island, where rooms for $12 a day are still available in high season. Near by, the primordial stillness of the dark brown waters of the Okefenokee Swamp keeps the secrets of another eon. This is Georgia's black belt, where slaves worked cotton in the loamy soil and the plantation aristocracy held sway. Cotton is gone now, replaced by peanuts and the silent agriculture of Georgia pines oozing gum for turpentine...
...council announced its plans at a news conference in Washington on Monday. Its focus will be on 100 Congressmen who are undecided about or opposed to setting a definite date for withdrawal. Reischauer said. The council hopes to swamp these Congressmen with letters from their constituents pledging to support more militant peace candidates in the 1972 elections...
...distinctive yap-yap-yap call and drumming of the large (19 in.) ivory-billed woodpecker have not been heard in significant numbers in the U.S. since the late 1930s, when all but a few of the birds were wiped out by loggers who cut down rotten, grub-filled swamp timber on which the woodpeckers fed. Now an official of the National Audubon Society named Robert Manns claims that he has heard one woodpecker's cries in the desolate Santee Swamp, near Columbia, S.C. The South Carolina Public Service Authority has heard Manns. The authority, which controls Santee Swamp timbering...
...face was darkened by a terrible birthmark. This was told me by a retired professor who attended Harvard at that time, a misplaced Yankee scholar who because of health exiled himself to my semi-tropical hometown in a house located halfway down the road which leads to the swamp where the lads and lasses went on Saturday nights to park, celebrate, or race our cars at ungodly speeds through the licking fingers of the Spaish moss. This professor told me that the dark side of Eliot's face was terrible to behold but that he was a splendid...