Word: hangars
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That was the beginning of a deal. While the airlines' lawyers were arguing before the CAA, opponents Frye and Kratz went hangar-flying over drinks in a nearby bar, became fast friends. A few weeks ago they met again on a New Mexico dude ranch at a meeting of Conquistadores del Cielo (Conquerors of the Sky), an airline executives' organization for making hoopla in ten-gallon hats and hair pants (see cut). Over the poker table where they played with steady hand for fat stakes, and on horseback trips where they rode for saddle-galls, the deal...
...handsome Palace of Fine and Decorative Arts, described as a $35,000,000 exhibit-destined at Fair's end to become an airplane hangar-proved that the Exposition's officials were wrong about human nature. For six months the art gallery (admission 25?-children 10?) never grossed so much as the "Dnude Ranch" (same price, no children admitted...
...institution to which he is going. It is the only Roman Catholic aviation school in the U. S. It is also free. Proud setting hawk of unique Lewis Holy Name is Founder Bishop Bernard James Sheil of Chicago, who nursed it from a fledgling (in 1932) in one hangar, one building and a cow pasture to lusty, soaring adolescence. A pious local farmer donated 620 flat acres; rich Chicago Manufacturer Frank J. Lewis financed 14 roomy buildings (the gymnasium is a memorial to son Joseph, killed in a plane crash). By this year's end, air-minded Bishop Sheil...
...rush. Instead of turning to pick & pan, however, Cap Lathrop stuck to his bridge and toted prospectors and their pokes. Nowadays, in rich Central Alaska, stout, furrowed, 73-year-old Cap Lathrop is the head man. He owns a big salmon cannery, a bank, a coal mine, an airplane hangar, three cinemas, two newspapers, a general store, apartment houses, and is a member of the Board of Regents of University of Alaska. One day last week Cap Lathrop sailed out of Puget Sound for Alaska again, to launch the latest and most ambitious enterprise of his career, the Midnight...
...pair of 1,200-h.p. Wright Cyclonesrowling in a hangar; a glimpse of green fields through a hole in the overcast; 200m.p.h.; an odd pressure in your ears; a old jet of air in your face; a pretty hostess handing you hot chicken; a sleek transport drifting in to a landing, flaps extended like an old lady spreading her skirts as she sits down; a lean beacon fingering the dark. An airline is all these things, and it is a dollar-&-cents business. Last week the U. S. airline which once was shakier than most in dollars & cents took...