Word: tara
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...Died. Tara Singh, 82, crusty champion of religious and political rights for India's 8,000,000 Sikhs; of a heart attack; in Chandigarh, India. Militant leader of the fiercely proud Sikhs since the early 1930s, Singh stirred up many a political fracas, was jailed by both the British and Nehru as he fought and fasted for the creation of a separate Punjabi-speaking state. The partition of the Punjab state in 1966 failed to satisfy the white-bearded leader who then went to jail for the last time still clamoring for independence...
...ever make, will always seem insignificant after that." He even proposed as his own epitaph, "Here lies David O. Selznick, who produced Gone With the Wind." He also recognized that his former glories could become a handful of dust. When the G.W.T.W. plantation set, including the mansion Tara, was finally dismantled and shipped to Atlanta in 1959, Selznick philosophized: "Once photographed, life here is ended. It is almost symbolic of Hollywood. Tara has no rooms inside. It was just a facade...
Anyone planning to spend a decadent evening at Wonderland Dog Track tonight can make a bundle on Tara C. in the eight race. He's won six of ten races in his career, has a favorable post position, and should go off at 10-1. It's a sure...
Died. Lord Brabazon of Tara, 80, pioneer British aviator and a Minister of Aircraft Production in Churchill's wartime government, a crusty curmudgeon who in 1909 managed to take off in a fragile cloth-and-wood contraption and fly it a mile, bounced in and out of Parliament until his 1941 appointment to boss Britain's rapidly expanding aircraft industry, a job he did well until he was ousted in early 1942 for impolitically suggesting that England should be happy that German Nazis and Russian Communists were killing each other off; following a heart attack; in Chertsey, England...
...Atlantic. It plays unabashedly on the chauvinism of U.S. Irishmen. "We try," says one executive, "to fit the image Americans have of the Irish." Fattening the image, creamy-cheeked stewardesses in heather-flecked tweeds or linens welcome passengers aboard "shamrock flights." They feed them in first class on Royal Tara china with such delicacies as grilled Liffey salmon steaks, Irish coffee and Guinness stout. All the while, Irish jigs frolic over the intercom and the captain communicates in a bog-thickened brogue. Such blarney-and the practical advantage that the Irish government permits only state-owned Aer Lingus to land...