Word: aboards
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Visibly ill of body and nerve. "Jimmy" Walker boarded the Europe-bound S. S. Conte Grande, locked himself away. Betty Compton, his friend, also sailed, with her mother. Aboard were newshawks, crossing to return on the new Italian liner Conte di Savoia. Miss Compton & mother visited the Walker suite. The Walker valet. Greenhouse, deckwalked the Compton dog. Mr. Walker finally emerged from his cabin, gave newshawks an ancient wisecrack about his whiskers growing so long he must shave or buy a fiddle, and denied that he was about to return a visit to the Maharajah of Mysore...
...Commander Settle, a mathematically-minded engineer who inspects the construction of Navy dirigibles, described their homeward voyage on the Graf in precise, unimaginative terms. But Van Orman's gaunt face brightened, his eyes shone as he exclaimed: "Never have I had such a thrill as when I went aboard that ship! After being knocked about by thunderstorms in the most primitive craft that flies-then to stretch my legs under a table in the Graf's saloon and have a steward hand me a wine list about this long-the contrast left me speechless!" To the "Early Birds...
...Aboard the private car Washington Democrat Smith set out for New England and his "very beloved friends of Massachusetts." The journey was one long popular reception through the rain. At Providence Mr. Smith got off for a brief indoor address (his doctors forbid him to speak outdoors...
...bearded Publisher Curtis, 82, became more quiescent following the death of his wife last May (TIME, June 6). He, too, suffers from a heart ailment. Although he did take himself to Joseph Early Widener's "millionaire dinner" last month (TIME, Oct. 24) he spends most of his time aboard the Lyndonia, much of his shore time at the Downtown Club, which he helped to found, in his own Philadelphia Public Ledger building. Such small time as Publisher Curtis has for business, he gives to the Curtis-Martin newspapers (Ledgers, Inquirer, New York Evening Post) of which his stepdaughter...
...even the prospect of making 600,000 pesetas can quell the mortal dread of the sea which Escudero shares with many another gypsy (TIME, Jan. 25). For him the ocean and all water, he says, is hell. He spent his six days aboard the Aquitania this autumn lying in his cabin in a pair of red silk pyjamas, trembling lest he should die and be thrown overboard for fish to devour. Ashore he soon becomes the soul of assurance again. He wears grey flannel shirts for formal and informal occasions, usually with a tie he has crocheted himself. But last...