Word: islands
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...member of the Ohio Gang, now personal researcher for the Big White President, continued his critical observations from aboard the Filipino- financed Bustamente (TIME, July 26, et seq.). Slowly the little steamer pushed through hundreds of emerald islets in a turquoise sea beneath azure heavens-on, on to Cuyo Island, veritable Eden in the Sulu Sea. Col. Thompson, pleased, ambled beneath outlandish cocoanut palms, low luscious mangoes. No phones, newspapers, railroads, trolleys or automobiles marred this hot perfection. Ah, to be a barefoot native! . . . But business pressed. Mr. Thompson reluctantly doffed his white helmet to the glistening coral beach, proceeded...
...Upon Mindoro ("Mine of Gold"), now known as "Malaria Island," are situated the famed Havemeyer sugar plantations. †Once upon a time there eloped from Cavite, ancient Spanish Philippine settlement, a nun and a friar who were pursued by the high sheriff (el corregidor). The nun was caught on a little island off Manila Bay now named Lamonja (the nun) ; the friar on an islet now called El Fraile (the friar) ; previously the sheriff had futilely searched for them in the island jungles of what is now Corregidor. Today, El Fraile is but a stone turret for U. S. guns...
After managing the Long Island Railroad, Sir Henry went to England to manage the Great Eastern, finally to Canada and Knighthood...
...resistible force meets an immovable body in a golf tournament, the judges are obliged to arrange a playoff. They arranged a playoff for MacDonald Smith and Gene Sarazen, tied at 286 strokes of the 72 holes of medal play in the Metropolitan Open Championship, last fortnight on Long Island (TIME, July 26). Irresistible Smith and Immovable Sarazen proceeded to take 70 more strokes apiece. They were told to tee off again. Irresistible Smith took 72 strokes more; Immovable Sarazen took 72 strokes more. It was a 108-hole tie, a championship record...
...this will end!" But Smith, whose wrists are wiry, winged a shot home and sank his putt for a 3. He missed another birdie by an eyelash, then holed a long side- hill recovery putt. He sized up putt after putt thereafter, over expanses of Long Island real estate that sometimes extended 40 and 50 feet, holing a long series of incredible shots. Sarazen, grimly grinning, turned off a 70 that any other man, at any other moment, would have waved his cap over. But Sarazen had no cap. "What's the use of a 70, anyhow?" he said...