Kennedy, according to Burke’s memoir, “roared with laughter.” He grabbed a handful of the poppers from the box and tossed them to Burke, saying, “Here you go. Try ’em. It’s time you lived a little.” Burke tried the poppers. Soon he tried the cocaine that he claims his boss regularly hoovered up with $100 bills.
By Judith Moore, April 29, 1993 Read full article
Hours passed, and San Diego fell farther astern as I sailed toward my mysterious destination. I had researched South Island with the aid of two thin library texts, both more than 20 years old, and much can happen in 20 years. The books said a landing could be made on the island’s northeastern side, in a small bay known as Smugglers’ Cove.
By James Knight, Aug. 13, 1992 Read full article
She was just talking about “Freight Train,” her famous song. “I've heard ‘Freight Train' so much, that's not my favorite any more. I've had to play it so much. I wrote that song when I was living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I was ten or eleven and I didn't have a guitar yet.
By Amy Chu, July 2, 1981 Read full article
And then there’s Bill Canepa, age thirty-seven, looking stiff, awkward, spindly-legged, fat and skinny at the same time, pale, and balding. As he paddles out, he thrashes at the water with his arms but doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. He swings his board around clumsily, cutting off another surfer, and takes off late in a wave, not knowing whether he should go left or right.
By Steve Sorensen, July 19, 1984, Read full article
The day I drove out to look at the Loma Citas water tower the weather was hot and hazy. I had never been to see the tower before, but I didn’t have any trouble finding it: it rises some fifty feet above a cluster of sleek, ranch-style homes alongside the South Bay Freeway, just east of Reo Drive near Bonita. When I got my first glimpse of it, the tower immediately reminded me of the head of the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz, but the longer I looked at it the more it resembled the body of a plump insect caught in a spider’s web.
By Gordon Smith, Sept. 17, 1981 Read full article
CAMALU, Mexico — Powdery dirt coats this tiny hamlet on the Baja California coast like a blanket of copper-colored snow. The dust pastes the sides of school buses that haul working boys and girls to tomato fields. The dirt conceals the buses’ original owners: the Marin County School District and Lakewood Baptist Church. Dust cakes on abandoned cars and windowsills. It dirties polyester curtains and bathroom sinks. It falls on cornstalks that rise 12 feet into the gritty air.
By Eric Eyre, Feb. 6, 1992 Read full article
Kennedy, according to Burke’s memoir, “roared with laughter.” He grabbed a handful of the poppers from the box and tossed them to Burke, saying, “Here you go. Try ’em. It’s time you lived a little.” Burke tried the poppers. Soon he tried the cocaine that he claims his boss regularly hoovered up with $100 bills.
By Judith Moore, April 29, 1993 Read full article
Hours passed, and San Diego fell farther astern as I sailed toward my mysterious destination. I had researched South Island with the aid of two thin library texts, both more than 20 years old, and much can happen in 20 years. The books said a landing could be made on the island’s northeastern side, in a small bay known as Smugglers’ Cove.
By James Knight, Aug. 13, 1992 Read full article
She was just talking about “Freight Train,” her famous song. “I've heard ‘Freight Train' so much, that's not my favorite any more. I've had to play it so much. I wrote that song when I was living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I was ten or eleven and I didn't have a guitar yet.
By Amy Chu, July 2, 1981 Read full article
And then there’s Bill Canepa, age thirty-seven, looking stiff, awkward, spindly-legged, fat and skinny at the same time, pale, and balding. As he paddles out, he thrashes at the water with his arms but doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. He swings his board around clumsily, cutting off another surfer, and takes off late in a wave, not knowing whether he should go left or right.
By Steve Sorensen, July 19, 1984, Read full article
The day I drove out to look at the Loma Citas water tower the weather was hot and hazy. I had never been to see the tower before, but I didn’t have any trouble finding it: it rises some fifty feet above a cluster of sleek, ranch-style homes alongside the South Bay Freeway, just east of Reo Drive near Bonita. When I got my first glimpse of it, the tower immediately reminded me of the head of the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz, but the longer I looked at it the more it resembled the body of a plump insect caught in a spider’s web.
By Gordon Smith, Sept. 17, 1981 Read full article
CAMALU, Mexico — Powdery dirt coats this tiny hamlet on the Baja California coast like a blanket of copper-colored snow. The dust pastes the sides of school buses that haul working boys and girls to tomato fields. The dirt conceals the buses’ original owners: the Marin County School District and Lakewood Baptist Church. Dust cakes on abandoned cars and windowsills. It dirties polyester curtains and bathroom sinks. It falls on cornstalks that rise 12 feet into the gritty air.
By Eric Eyre, Feb. 6, 1992 Read full article
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