Word: manors
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Negroes had been staying at Algiers Manor, a tacky three-story annex behind a Woodward Avenue motel. Police records show that the place had been a haven for prostitution, narcotics and stolen ammunition; one night at the height of the riots, police hauled out a man with a rifle. Next night, after getting reports of sniping in the area, 16 police and National Guardsmen, guns blazing, burst into a ground-floor room in Algiers Manor, and manhandled its occupants-at least seven Negro men and two white girls-into spread-eagled positions against a wall. Then, said witnesses, Detroit police...
...this New World, up popped a fairy godmother, a divorcee named Ruth Lapham Lloyd, who was heiress to a Texas oil fortune. To provide the lord with a proper setting for the wedding, she turned over her somewhat unkempt Elizabethan garden and 300-acre New Canaan, Conn., estate and manor house known as Waverny. Then, so that the lord should be untroubled at his nuptials, only eight guests were invited, including one local photographer, and the details were leaked only to the nation's leading tabloid society reporter...
...best tourist treats in the Ozarks. Visitors get to poke around the house, an imposing structure of native stone, redwood and glass that extends 214 ft. along a precipice overlooking Huntsville, Ark. With any kind of luck, they may see the lord of the manor himself, who will, in the fashion of a hard-pressed British peer, show off the ten rooms, five baths and four fireplaces that make up his new pad, and take them for a stroll down Farkleberry Trail. For no extra charge, visitors also get a whiff of a fragrant political issue in the making...
...since 1961, claiming that she has run out of things to say. Small wonder. Believing The Mousetrap good for about a six-month run, she had made a thoughtful little gift of the royalties to her grandson, Michael Pritchard, who keeps up a 900-acre estate, an 18th century manor house and an Alfa-Romeo on the proceeds...
...Quite true. Old Wodehouse-masters know it is equally fruitless to try to unravel the plot in one of his potty idyls. In this book, he sets out to tell the tale of a cuckoo American millionaire's efforts to steal an 18th century paperweight from an English manor house. What he also does in his incomparable way is to prove that, for a fellow who started effervescing back in the Edwardian era, he has a lot of bubble left in him yet. In fact, his fans will find that this book leaves P.G. about where he was before...