Word: tugs
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Many. Thus ended a long, sometimes bitter tug-of-war that began 31 months ago, when Castello Branco declared war on corruption, graft and "anti-revolutionaries." Too often for congressional comfort, that label came to include legislators themselves, who found their mandates canceled. Not until last year did Congress finally stand up to the President; in a rare show of unity, it refused to vote Castello Branco sweeping new powers-including the right to close down Congress. So Castello Branco simply put the rules into effect by decree, and for good measure dissolved Brazil's 13 political parties...
...hour and 13 minutes the converted Russian tuna boat chased one of the mightiest ships of the Seventh Fleet; in turn, it was chased by one of the scruffiest vessels in the U.S. Navy. The U.S.S. Conserver is a rust-pitted, rickety tug, built in 1945 and capable of a scant 14 knots ("with plenty of wind and a little bit of lying"). Nonetheless, it managed to close on the trawler's starboard side and station itself between the Russian and the carrier, thus averting, if not a collision, then at least an embarrassing change of course...
...Viet Cong dead littered the ground. Under a rubber tree, guarding the body of his slain platoon leader, was Private B. C. Miller of Brisbane. Wounded in the face, shoulder and leg, Miller had lapsed into unconsciousness only to be awakened by a Viet Cong trying to tug off his boots. "Bug off!" Miller shouted at the startled Red, who promptly complied...
Whatever the time, place or local custom, nearly all weddings exert the same powerful tug: they draw all but the young back through the years to luxuriate, if only briefly, in their own memories. Last week millions of Americans took this trip to reverie, propelled by the nationalized nuptials of Luci Baines Johnson, the first daughter of an incumbent President to marry in 31 years, and Patrick John Nugent, the boy from Waukegan, Ill., who brashly wooed...
...voice, the verse is direct, fervent, fresh, almost childishly naive. Some of it is tenderly lyrical; much of it is vehemently public poetry, poetry for the microphone. The imagery and language are startling, precise, modern. "Behind an airplane," he writes, "the sound trailed/ Rectangular, like a barge behind a tug." And again: "Radio-like, my cat lies curled/ With his green eye tuned to the world...