Word: cements
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...only the shop preparing pork cutlets. Women work here. Silent, unsmiling, strained faces. Their hands automatically are raised and then lowered, again raised and with difficulty chop off a piece of meat from the inexorably moving carcasses on the conveyor belt. Blood runs down on the dirty, pock-marked cement floor. The monotonous humming of the conveyor, the hoarse breathing of the women meat workers, and the stagnant stench of the poorly ventilated premises...
...much as two weeks at Shanghai docks awaiting loading and unloading. Textile mills lacked raw material; exports fell off; production was declining everywhere. Thousands of tons of pig iron were turned out by backyard furnaces but then proved useless without further costly refining; there was not enough cement to build barracks in the communes. Lacking transport, harvests rotted in the fields while food was scarce in the cities...
Although the wives of heavy drinkers usually complain bitterly about their husbands' behavior, liquor can be the cement that holds the union together. Many a spouse of a souse, the University of Pittsburgh's Dr. William Browne told the A.P.A., has an unconscious need for an alcoholically incompetent mate, because only thus can she be dominant. Curing a husband of alcoholism. Dr. Browne said, may make the wife ill, even drive her to drink...
Last week the popular Rural Self-Help scheme, which gives villagers essentials such as nails, cement and simple tools so that they themselves can build schools, roads and small dams, had ground to a stop because U.S. funds had run out. ICA's new discipline requires strict accounting of first-quarter funds before second-quarter funds can be released. But Laotians, not accustomed to American accountants' techniques, were slow to comply with all the forms, despite lengthy pleas from Vientiane. Rather than see the whole program collapse before the rainy season stops all work in June, ICA Mission...
...eccentrics, has never had a greater one than the late Architect Bernard Ralph Maybeck. Until his death a year and a half ago at 95 (TIME, Oct. 14, 1957), scrag-bearded Bernard Maybeck cheerfully held court in the house he built for himself of gunny sacks dipped in pink cement in the Berkeley hills, delighted his visitors by ripping off hunks of the wall to prove that they were light enough to float. Barely 5 ft. tall in his home-knitted tam-o'-shanter, Maybeck was a sartorial seventh wonder. He blueprinted the clothes for his wife Annie (whom...