BEFORE I MET John Christopher Doyle, the controversial mining promoter and close friend of Newfoundland Premier Joseph Smallwood, I thought of financial wizards as rather dull types, surrounded by computers and walnut-paneled boardrooms and lynx-eyed assistants and fussy accountants; stodgy people, really, for all their wealth, who lived in a world of ticker tape and dividends and stock warrants and other inscrutable phenomena.By Walter Stewart18 min
NOBODY UNDERSTANDS INDIA. It’s as vast and teeming and diverse and beautiful and mysterious and terrifying as all the world and all mankind. I tried to understand it. In the course of preparing a book of photographs on the country, I traveled, with a guide and driver, 15,000 miles by Land Rover last year, and saw more of the subcontinent than most Western travelers have ever attempted.
Mornings when he's working at home, Arthur Hailey rises at seven, swims 34 lengths in his pool (33 lengths is a quarter-mile, but he does one more to bring him back to the starting point), limbers with a flurry of 5BX squats and presses, consumes a light breakfast and, precisely at 8.30, enters his office, closing a sound-proofed door behind him.
“Bhuri bai a’lay" (The white lady’s coming), the children chant each day as I walk from my cottage through the bazaar to the homes of the villagers. I am an oddity —tall, white, bespectacled, with loose floppy brown hair; the villagers’ curiosity about this large white stranger gives me easy access to their homes.
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