Word: resorting
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...years a handful of communal farmers were the only inhabitants of the 120-acre area of thicket and coconut groves 20 miles south of Mexico's swank Acapulco resort on the Pacific. Then in 1968, Dallas multimillionaire Troy V. (for Victor) Post, newly enriched by the sale of his Greatamerica Corp. to Ling-Temco-Vought for $500 million, brought his genius and fortune to bear on the wasteland. Before long he had transformed it into an earthly paradise, a resort complete with a luxury hotel and detached villas, two of the world's best golf courses, an Olympic...
Today the resort that Post named Tres Vidas en la Playa (translation: "three lives on the beach") is slowly reverting to the thicket it once was. On once velvety golf links, cattle nibble at the patches of imported English grass that have survived months of neglect. Rows of expensive golf carts sit rusting in the salt spray from the nearby Pacific. The Olympic and villa pools, long stagnant, are covered with algae-green slime. Outside the compound's wrought-iron gates, striking waiters, maids and maintenance men-who have been picketing since July under a red and black strike...
What happened? Quite simply, Tres Vidas was so exclusive that almost no one showed up. Post's original notion, an opulent, members-only resort, captured the imagination of the international set. The rich, the royal and the celebrated attended the extravagant grand opening in 1969. "No country club in the world is so deliberately elite, so tastefully plush," bubbled Town & Country magazine in its February 1971 issue. But the initial fee of $8,000 and annual dues of $360 dampened the ardor of many prospective applicants; only 700 signed up. Nonetheless, Post would not abandon his ideal of exclusivity...
After a financially dismal season last year, there was talk that the HRO was going to resort to gimmicky and war-horsey programming in order to insure filled houses. But although for the first time in many years they won't be able to afford a big-name soloist, their programs remain uncompromised and varied, posing a continuing series of worthwhile challenges to this excellent orchestra...
...breaks in the dialogue. Particularly in "Fire Exit," set in a burlesque house, the language sounds stilted, as though the characters were parodying the contrived and choreographed world of their jobs. She deliberately scatters cliches through the speech of inarticulate dancers and comics--phrases they'd be likely to resort to in reality, but, as the author, Lang is not able to dissociate herself from their triteness...