Word: nassaue
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When a U. S. bootlegger's airplane skidded to a halt in Nassau Harbor last week, a pale, pockmarked, frightened Cuban, Gerardo Machado y Morales, instantly demanded police protection. Nassau's big, black, pith-helmeted police ordinarily carry no firearms, but now rifles were issued to some of them and a guard posted at the Royal Victoria Hotel...
Chief members of the Bahama group are "Motorboat,"' a hulking mahogany-colored buck who in one dance wore rainbow-hued feather knickers, and "Pearl of Nassau," a gaudy little darkie who lustily copies the seductive hip-wiggling of Josephine Baker. Attired in scanty draperies and usually accompanied by gourds or tom-tom alone, the Bahama troupe shifted abruptly from sober interpretations of spirituals to the frankly orgiastic frenzy of native Bahaman dances. Against the high yellow paling which divided them from the orchestra their shadows were enormous and fantastic. But in spite of claims that their dances were independent...
...took an hour and a half, during which Sr. Machado seemed calm, his entourage nervous. At 3:32 p. m. the amphibian roared away. That evening it came down in the lee of Andros Island in the Bahamas. The refugees spent the night aboard, next day flying on to Nassau. There Machado, haggard in his crumpled white linen suit (he had had no time to pack even a suitcase), led his party to the sumptuous, somnolent Royal Victoria Hotel. He ordered tea, whiskey, a bath and a tailor. "I am glad I am with English people," he said. "England understands...
...proprietor, suggested to him that his feeble old guest was Harriman. To see for himself, the proprietor went upstairs, found "Mr. Thomas" in bed, and got nothing but denials from the old gentleman. While they were talking, a loud knock announced the arrival of Inspector King of the Nassau County police, summoned thither by the reporter. "Aren't you Mr. Harriman?" he demanded abruptly. "No, I am Mr. Thomas," was the reply. But lying on the window sill was a hat bearing the initials "J. W. H." on the sweatband. Noting this, the Inspector strode from the room, telephoned...
They disarmed him, rushed him to Nassau County Hospital where agents from the surety company who had put up his bail guarded his life, as it was evident from letters he had left that the old man's despondency was great. The letters contained references to his son Alan whose death in an automobile accident in 1928 was a source of constant sorrow to Mr. Harriman and to whose grave he went directly after escaping from the hospital...