Word: placid
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Holly trees arch gracefully over the neat white fences that line the dirt road leading to the brick mansion at West Hatton, the 630-acre Zantzinger farm-estate in southern Maryland. The mansion's colonnaded porch faces the somnolent Wicomico River, which flows past a placid pond and a white summerhouse. Also on the estate is an austere farmhouse from which William Devereux Zantzinger, 24, runs one of the most prosperous tobacco operations in Charles County...
Ever since it was built for the 1932 Olympics, the bobsled run at Lake Placid, N.Y., has been considered the ultimate twist by the world's top bobsledders. Plummeting down through 16 curves, it was tricky, low-banked, and so wide that a slight miscalculation sent a sled careening wildly off course; scores of bobbers have been injured, and two have been killed. For the 1964 Olympics, an Austrian engineer named Paul Aste, 46, a onetime bobber himself, designed a narrower, 13-curve run in the Alpine resort of Igls, just above the Tyrolean capital of Innsbruck. Aste thought...
Inaugurated at the world bobsledding championships that ended last week, Igls proved about 3 sec. faster for the metric mile than the Lake Placid groove. It also turned out to be a bobber's nightmare. On the second day of the two-man trials, a Swedish team piloted by Gunnar Ähs was hitting 50 m.p.h. when it zoomed into the No. 9 bend, nicknamed the Hexenkessel, or Witches' Pot. The sled slid up the 40-ft. bank, bounced down and ricocheted sickeningly from wall to wall. Ähs's upper front teeth were sheared...
...blends the lyric charm of Coleman Hawkins' ancient saxophone with an almost perfect rhythm section: Tommy Flanagan, piano; Major Holey, bass; and Eddie Locke, drums. The result is indeed happy, proving, as it does, that The Hawk is still a master of the mellow, a professor of the placid...
...stood there, just to the right of the basket, a placid. 7-ft. 1 1/16-in, giant watching impassively as his teammates maneuvered the ball in backcourt. The New York Knickerbockers tried to box him in; they clutched at his jersey, leaned against his chest, stepped on his toes. Then Wilt Chamberlain came alive. With the aplomb of a cop palming an apple, he reached out one massive hand and plucked the basketball out of the air. Spinning violently, he ripped clear of the elbowing surge, took a step toward the basket and jumped. For an instant, he seemed suspended...