Word: cop
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...such swashbuckling company, Stan Musial seems pleasantly out of place-living proof that nice guys do not necessarily finish last. Nobody has ever seen him sulk or throw a tantrum. Unlike Ruth, he has never punched a cop. Unlike Cobb, he has never attacked a crippled heckler in the stands. Unlike Wagner, he has never stuffed a ball into a base runner's teeth. He is, says ex-Teammate Joe Garagiola, a "saint with money." Only once, in 1959, has he openly disputed an umpire's call. The ump's reaction was hilarious-he gaped at Musial...
...Boosts. Inevitably, the manufactured crime wave engulfed the police department. Both the News-Call Bulletin and the Chronicle blasted departmental indifference ("These citizens want action," shrilled the Chronicle, "not explanations"). The Examiner printed a singularly unjust cartoon of a mugger escaping under the very nose of a motorcycle cop-who was too busy writing a parking ticket to notice. And all three papers printed statistics to prove that since Jan. 1 crime in San Francisco was up 13% over last year...
...Cambridge police arrested a -year-old boy last evening, who just like fighting with the police," according to a police department spokesman. An observer in front of where the battle occurred "he popped a cop in the nose and quickly popped in a paddy-wagon ." An estimated 125 observed...
Captured in the apartment with Salan was his aide, former Captain Jean Ferrandi. who had served under the general in Indo-China, came with him to Algiers for the April putsch. As police bundled them outside, one cop could not help identifying their catch to other residents in the hallway. When the concierge heard that M. Carriere was Raoul Salan, she fainted. Silent and deathly pale, Salan was taken with Ferrandi by helicopter to Reghai'a, French military headquarters 20 miles from town, where the S.A.O. chief huddled bleakly on a bench between two gendarmes. There he was spotted...
...envy; a bookstore owner obsessed with the past history of this quarter of Paris barely sees the girl as she passes before his eyes. And a novelist named Carnejoux, watching the square from his balcony, is excited: first, because he is as lustful as the detective and the traffic cop, and second, because he knows that the beautiful, bouncing runner will make a fine incident in the avant-garde novel he intends to write about an hour's jumble of thoughts in the Carrefour de Buci...