Word: palmed
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...West Palm Beach...
...helicopters flew in with special crack units and medical teams, directed by Defense Minister Moshe Arens and Chief of Staff Moshe Levy, the terrorists demanded the release of 25 Palestinians being held in Israeli jails. At 4:45 a.m. Friday, before the first rays of light hit the surrounding palm trees, Israeli commandos burst in through the rear window and two doors, killing all four hijackers. One passenger died, seven were injured and 31 escaped unhurt. Scarcely three hours later, the Israeli army retaliated by destroying the homes of the dead terrorists, who were Palestinians from the Gaza Strip...
...Wilder seemed the very model of a modern swinging bachelor. An Australian native, he came to America in 1970 at the age of 24, eventually settled in Boynton Beach, Fla., and soon amassed a small fortune in the construction business. Handsome and well-tailored, he acquired six parcels of Palm Beach County real estate worth nearly $400,000, took ski vacations in chic Vail, Colo., dabbled in photography and raced cars, finishing a respectable 17th in the Miami Grand Prix (prize: $400). A Jacuzzi bubbled outside his bedroom, a speedboat was moored to his private dock. And, of course, Chris...
Wilder was convicted in 1980 of attempted sexual battery in a Palm Beach County case, but placed on probation. Police have discovered that he is a fugitive from sexual-assault charges in Sydney, Australia. He concealed these earlier crimes from his fast-lane friends in Florida; most were shocked by his recent notoriety. Dennis DeFranceschi, a close friend and racing partner of Wilder's, failed to see any logic in his sex crimes. Said he: "If you want to act out a pornographic scene, you just go out and hire a bunch of hookers." Contemplating Wilder's alleged...
After a while, the ugly tracks of war seem so commonplace that one no longer takes as much notice of the gutted buildings as of the occasional glimpses of what everyday life must have been like before the bloodshed began. Along the Corniche, the broad, palm-lined boulevard that hugs the Mediterranean, dice clatter across wooden backgammon boards, as groups of men, each with one hand nervously working worry beads, cluster to watch. The clinking of delicate china cups announces the arrival of a coffee vendor proffering thick, black Turkish brew. As Sunday fishermen impatiently flick their lines, a water...