Word: taxis
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...violence gradually changed complexion. The crowds began singling out foreigners. Europeans were dragged from their cars, beaten mercilessly while their cars were burned. By the morning of the second day, blood lust was running high. Along Kowloon's broad Nathan Road some rioters overturned and fired a taxi bearing Swiss Vice Consul Fritz Ernst and his wife. The escaping driver fell into the arms of the mob, who doused him with gasoline and cremated him on a bed of bubbling asphalt. The Ernsts escaped, but Mrs. Ernst died of burns 48 hours later...
...sister's side on her great day?" and joined uncles and cousins of bride and groom across the wire from Fatma's house. They watched Fatma in her white organdy dress and thick rosy makeup as she was escorted to a waiting taxi, its roof piled high with eiderdowns and gold-embroidered pillows. Then, as the taxi moved off, preceded by the bridegroom's party and followed by Fatma's friends, the divided village began to sing and dance and clap hands. "Why don't you have the feast on our side?'' shouted...
...fading light of a hot summer day last week, Adlai Stevenson and a few friends left the Chicago Yacht Club, got into a taxi, and headed back to his living quarters at the Sheraton-Blackstone Hotel. Three days before, Harry Truman had struck. Stevenson was still crowding his hours with visits and visitors, handshakes, receptions, whisperings, conferences. Yet the crucial matters of the moment now seemed strangely suspended, like a mural of some bygone battle posted on a restaurant wall. It was a lovely yacht club, Stevenson mused; the new terrace was a perfect place for outdoor entertaining. Had anybody...
More than a mile from the station, panes of glass vanished from their frames, doors were ripped from their hinges, a movie theater collapsed. Within an hour, rescue teams of priests, Boy Scouts and taxi drivers were digging into the wreckage. Said one driver, jolted from his bed by the blast: "People were running through what was left of the streets in their underwear. I saw ten members of a family lying dead...
Ellington, who seems to derive inspiration from being on the move, wrote many of the tunes in a taxi on the way to the studio, or even in the studio. Sometimes he would jump out of bed in the middle of the night, grunt a tune that had just come to him and play it on the piano. It made little difference, since all new numbers had to be worked out anyhow. "You play this," Duke would say to one musician at a time, while noodling out a tune on the piano. As soon as they heard a phrase...