Word: fishes
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Buccaneers like Bonito and Captain Edward Davis are supposed to have used lonely Cocos, 400 mi. from the mainland, to cache their booty. In modern times many a gentleman of fortune has searched Cocos for pirates' spoils. Not long after Franklin Roosevelt stopped to fish at Cocos on his way to Hawaii last year, a British syndicate began the most business-like search of all. Trouble developed when the authorities of Costa Rica, which claims Cocos, got wind of their doings. Shortly 75 Costa Rican policemen arrived at the island, deported the treasure hunters bag and baggage for digging...
Stellar performance of the week was put on by the flashy tackle of Harvard's 1910 team, snaggle-toothed Representative Hamilton Fish Jr. of New York. Congressman from Franklin Roosevelt's own Dutchess County, Ham Fish has long yearned to oust his neighbor from the White House. Returning from a nationwide, 50-speech speaking tour, last week he "informally" announced to the Hearst Press that he was an aspirant for the GOPresidential nomination, a scoop which made news in Washington only to hermits. Aglow with political imagination, he also released a non-partisan slate from which, if nominated...
...right, here's the program," Mussolini was already saying. "In the morning I have a cup of coffee and fruit. At noon I have consomme or broth and fruit. At night I have fruit. No, I never touch meat. Sometimes a bit of fish...
...tons of carborundum a year, sells it for 15? per Ib. His own inventions, of which he has patented more than 150, include silicon carbide electrodes for high-temperature electric furnaces and a commercial process for making pure metallic silicon. Mr. Tone plays bad golf, likes to hunt & fish in Canada, makes excellent flapjacks...
...kind of accident had occurred. Not until dawn did they learn, and then the news was the worst possible. Looking down into the rough jumble of hills in Crow Creek Valley, 13 miles from Cheyenne, a searching pilot spied the gleaming fuselage of the plane lying like a disemboweled fish at the end of a quarter-mile trail of destruction. Scattered along this were shreds of cloth, lipsticks and compacts, magazines, pieces of sheet music, and, almost touching an oil-drenched cylinder torn from a motor, a copy of Look Homeward Angel which friends of the stewardess later said...