Word: uniformly
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...broad square shoulders and stout chest was Don Julio, the policeman of the village. The word "Don," a vestige of Spanish gentility, perfectly fitted the pride that glowed in his roughly handsome, mustachioed face as he talked in a rush of Spanish I could scarcely make out. His green uniform and the epaulets on his shoulders indicated that he was a military officer, as were all of the nation's police force. The sole official authority in the pueblo, he had to see to it that all ran smoothly...
...distance from the frontier, is similar to the vast majority of American cities in its degree of social mobility. He claims that the similar occupational structures in most American cities, plus the great fluidity of the national population throughout the last century have resulted in uniform rates of social mobility...
...ethnic mixes of major American cities vary considerably, so it seems somewhat dubious to argue that rates of social mobility are uniform in all cities, at the same time that one studies varying rates of social mobility among different ethnic groups. Unfortunately, very little research of the type attempted by Thernstrom has ever been done in other cities. Social history is indebted to Thernstrom for his groundbreaking effort in the study of American social mobility; future studies should determine whether or not his optimistic conclusions concerning upward mobility of lower economic classes apply nation-wide...
...list, a perro caliente (Spanish for "hot dog"), which went for seven pesos. Up in the Indian Quarter seven pesos would have bought me soup, a piece of chicken, rice, and chuna, a type of dried potato. In a few minutes the waitress, dressed in a tight yellow uniform, placed a five-inch long, grease-bathed hot dog in front of me. I didn't even get a roll...
...psuedo-delicatessan chain in the midwest. It is a low-priced quick-service place lit by art deco lamps, with oaken booths against rough panelled walls, plants slung from the ceiling and sauerkraut served while-u-wait. She is working eight hours a day in a starched white uniform and a red-checkered apron, and she lives above the restaurant with the manager. He is 45 and divorced, a Methodist believer who neither drinks or smokes. He is balding with a budding paunch, he likes the movies, reads little, and drives a shark blue Dodge Dart. She cleans his place...