Word: falmouth
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...vice versa. By day, the hunt takes place on the beach, where surfers and volleyballers ripple muscles before appreciative quarry. At night, it continues with beer drinking and frenzied frugging to ear-shattering rock bands in the local clubs: Cisco's at Manhattan Beach, Zack's in Falmouth, Mass., Big Al's Gas House in Santa Cruz, Calif. When the bars close, it's really time to swing, with all-night parties in motels and rooming houses or, in Saugatuck, Mich., on boats moored in the Kalamazoo River. One Pittsburgh coed, summer-schooling at U.C.L.A...
...newspaper career that carried him to the copy desk of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, Robert Manry nourished a secret dream. In 1958 he paid $160 for a sailing hull rotted by age and neglect. Repaired, refitted and baptized on fresh-water shakedown cruises, Tinkerbelle slipped her moorings at Falmouth, Mass., on June 1, 1965. Seventy-eight days and 3,200 miles later, the 13½-ft. sloop touched shore in Falmouth, England, the smallest sailing craft ever known to have crossed the Atlantic...
...panzer-style tactics, went into waspish retirement in 1933, and at various times embraced fascism, condemned Allied air raids in World War II, and sneered that Ike was "not a highly educated soldier," though he remained highly regarded for such studies as his On Future Warfare; of pneumonia; in Falmouth, England...
...Your historic voyage has ended," boomed a bullhorn on the harbor master's launch to the sailor in the tiny dinghy. "Welcome to Falmouth!" Over head a four-engine R.A.F. Coastal Command reconnaissance plane dipped its wings in salute. On the pier a crowd of 20,000 cheered wildly, a band struck up The Star-Spangled Banner, and the town's scarlet-robed mayor waited to extend official greetings. Said Robert N. Manry, 47, as he stepped from the smallest boat ever to cross the Atlantic nonstop: "I'm flabbergasted...
...Tether. So was the rest of the world. Seventy-eight days earlier, Manry, a copy editor at the Cleveland "Plain Dealer, had quietly set out alone in the 131-ft. Tinker belle from Falmouth, Mass., for the other Falmouth 3,200 miles away, thinking no one would pay any attention. No one did until a fortnight ago, when it suddenly seemed possible that he was actually going to make it all the way to England. Then came the world headlines. Falmouth trawler captains gave up fishing to haul boatloads of journalists in search of the red-sailed dinghy; some reporters...