Word: cypress
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Since 1919, Real Estate Man Samuel F. B. Morse,* often called the "Duke of Monterey," has tried to create something almost as exclusive with his famed Del Monte Properties Co. on California's cypress-clad, ocean-girt Monterey Peninsula. He has sold parcels of the 14,000 beautiful acres (at as high as $50,000 an acre), but has always reserved the right to tell the owners what to do with their land. He excludes Negroes, Asiatics and former "subjects of the Ottoman Empire." Once in, purchasers cannot build a house or fence, cut or plant a tree, keep...
...romantic Chapultepec Castle, above the cypress-shaded park where Aztec Emperors once strolled, the Mexican Society of Anthropology met last week for its fourth annual "round table." The Mexicans and gringos who sat down together were, in an archeological sense, wealthy men. Around them extended a diggers' dream empire, hardly touched, which 100 expeditions with 100 fat budgets could not hope to explore completely in 100 years...
Herb's pirogue, built with patient skill by Uncle Emile, was made of heart cypress, and practically walked the water. Cajuns say that a pirogue is so delicately balanced that shifting a cud of tobacco from one cheek to another is enough to upset it. But skilled Cajuns cast heavy shrimp nets, go hunting, catch alligators and attend funerals in them without ever getting their feet wet. And they make them go much faster than canoes...
Corsage boxes under their arms, new white gowns carefully tucked inside evening wraps, the girls minced over worn red carpets through the cold night air to a Cypress Street entrance of stately Hotel Windsor. Well ahead of the 9:30 starting time, some retired to powder rooms to rig their elbow-length gloves, give themselves a last appraising look. The occasion: the 67th anniversary of the historic St. Andrew's Day Ball, theater of "coming out" operations...
...windy halls were here, no balconies for strutting. Laurel and cypress shut in the rococo house; stained glass windows kept its rooms in decadent twilight. Benito Mussolini shuffled to his desk, shuffled through a morning's paper work. His three physicians-two Italians, one German-had warned him sternly: a dyspeptic Duce could not live like a lion...