Word: reddish
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Matched with the great thoroughbreds of the past, sober, hard-working Round Table seems as ordinary as a stable pony. His finishing sprint cannot equal Citation's. His reddish brown coat is run-of-the-paddock compared to the lustrous grey of Native Dancer. He sometimes even has trouble getting out of the starting gate. All Round Table can do as an unobstrusive personality of the tracks is win horse races. This season the industrious four-year-old colt owned by Oklahoma Millionaire Travis Mitchell Kerr is an odds-on favorite to win the most gilded title in racing...
Long after midnight, bathers on Honolulu's Waikiki Beach were startled by a brilliant, soundless flash above the horizon to the southwest. The flash faded to reddish clouds that hung luminously in the night sky. Thousands of other Hawaiian residents saw it, and telephone switchboards were swamped with excited calls...
...whose nose was always cold and ears never drooped. Mother also had hopes for her daughter. And so from birth Hermione Esmerelda was always well behaved, well kempt, and never ate anything but the tenderest bamboo shoots. She looked askance upon Szechuan Pandas, especially her father, and ignored the reddish regular sized pandas or chased them up trees or called them, "Raccoons." When she grew up and weighed 200 pounds and was six feet long she intended to visit the United States...
...Whiskers & Fair Play. In the fall of 1876 T.R. went to Harvard. Rarely had a young man and an old university seemed less compatible. T.R., reddish-whiskered and rampaging, was contemptuous, for example, of Harvard's "fair play" political consciousness. Wrote he: "I have not the slightest sympathy with debating contests in which each side is arbitrarily assigned a given proposition and told to maintain it . . . There is no effort to instill sincerity and intensity of conviction." As he moved out of Harvard, graduating Phi Beta Kappa, becoming a college boxer, courting and later marrying a Chestnut Hill belle...
...tied boxes and suitcases teetered perilously. Around the rooms, in wild disarray, stood an unmade day bed, the cold remains of a meager meal, a collection of half-filled rum and Coca-Cola bottles. Amid it all sat a tall, heavy-shouldered man whose massive head, topped by long, reddish-brown hair, gave him the appearance of an aging lion. Contented as a man in the plushest executive suite, American Oil Billionaire Jean Paul Getty, 65, probably the world's richest private citizen, went calmly about his work...