Word: tobacco
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...TIME'S article on tobacco spitting [Aug. 17] appears to treat the subject as a novelty outside of Raleigh, Miss. That it is an established art is evidenced by a quotation from our beloved Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley: "Speakin' o' art -I know a feller over t' Terry Haute 'at kin spit clean over...
Though his official salary is only $200 a month, Sutowo explains that his wealth is not based merely on that income. He says frankly: "I'm very big in tobacco exports, drugstores, a textile factory, rubber estates and interests in six or seven companies. I do them in my spare time." For example, when he recently learned that a contractor in Singapore needed rocks, Sutowo got government permission to have them shipped from an Indonesian quarry. Though he invested not a cent of his own money, Sutowo collects 50% of the profits. "I just arranged it," he says...
...city dweller, chewing tobacco is that atavistic lump in a baseball player's cheek. In Raleigh, Miss. (pop. 614), site of the National Tobacco Spitting Contest, it is sport and sociology, an art actively practiced and boasted about. Champions are finally selected, as they should be, in a tournament that feeds the folklore for another year. TIME Correspondent Peter Range joined the aficionados for the 16th annual national spit-off and sent this report...
While politicians, who know a good stump when they see one, exhort the all-white crowd and country bands pick and sing, the spitters gather around tobacco manufacturers' displays on Billy John's log-cabin porch to discuss their craft. Don Snyder, 22, the Mississippi State University student who has held the distance crown for two years, explains that it takes time "to get your juice right. It can't be too thick or too thin. You've got to just chew for about an hour and not drink or eat anything and get your mouth...
...large contingent of disheveled hippies -had been waiting for six hours or more. The young people passed the time dozing on the grass, discussing astrological signs or swapping stories in the harshly lit shed that serves as a waiting room. Quite a few passengers were smoking-but not necessarily tobacco. A Luxembourg policeman moved among the more exuberant youngsters, sniffing for the telltale scent of marijuana, which is something like burning autumn leaves. "Pigs are pigs any place in the world," muttered one youth...