August 9, 1957 Dear Mr. Gingrich: The other day while at home, I happened to tear out a small advertisement from the latest issue of Esquire. Upon coming to my office I could not seem to locate this small ad and had my secretary call your Readers Service Dept.
We wanted you to know you have articulated a whole new set of values for us. We were up until three in the morning thrashing around with this business (The IN and OUT Primer, September 1957). A friend of mine insists he is an IN person because he has always liked Mary Worth and was indifferent to Pogo.
Man of the moment again wears fur: trappings include hats and mufflers, as well as greatcoats
The fur look: Bad news, girls— we're moving in on your mink. And here’s the story that’s making the fur fly. You must begin with the Elegant Air. We’ve mentioned this before as the leading fashion theme of this fall. It’s an allover effect, we opined as we saw it coming even as early as the summer: hairline silk stripings in fine worsted suits; silk & tweed mixtures; cashmere & wool; ruffled and otherwise fancy bosoms on shirts; the return of the cape; textured leather shoes in smoke shades; a new emphasis on formality and elegance in jewelry; and a whole full-sized group of individual choices that the well-groomed man may elect in order to achieve the tremendously suave tonality of the Elegant Air.
THIS is an age in New York when many of the old landmarks are being torn down, and followed first by a period as a parking lot, and then the overnight appearance of a glass or jelly-bean skyscraper in the now-familiar “wedding-cake” modern which is reducing the city’s new look to one which will be sadly repetitive and uninspired some years from now like an old World’s Fair twenty years after.
IT’S hotel-opening time again on the East Coast of Florida. “This year’s hotel” in Miami Beach seems to be the Carillon, which will open with bells aringing on December 15. It is located on the ocean at Collins Avenue between 68th and 69th Streets; it cost $20,000,000, and has 620 rooms.
DON’T know if you’re the kind of jazz lover who can lose his heart to a thrush just hearing her voice, but if so, prepare to meet the new heart throb: Beverley Kenney. I’d mark her as the most important jazz singer to come along since Jeri Southern or, before Jeri, Sarah Vaughan.
THIS corner has not been given much to prophesying on the grounds that it would rather be right, but as the new season draws upon us it seems clear we are to be bowled over by successive waves of Eastern European pianists. The Hungarian Cziffra, sprung during the nastiness of last fall, will make his first appearance on this continent, heralded by an Angel recording (of Liszt, naturally); Sol Hurok is bringing over a young Pole with the implausible name of Tchaikowsky, and Victor will issue some records by him to coincide with his tour.
R. V. CASSILL, who appears in this issue with the short story, The Sunday Painter, may very likely be the most distinguished short-story writer in America who has never had his stories collected. His stories have been reprinted often enough: in the 1954, 1955, 1956, and 1957 Prize Stories collections (Houghton Mifflin); in Martha Foley’s collections of The Best Short Stories for 1951 and 1953; in innumerable textbooks and anthologies.
The advantages and disadvantages of being a great man's son
RECENTLY I received a letter that began: “Sir, I read in the news that you suggest turning the Panama Canal over to the UN. Just how screwy can a Roosevelt get? You have both your mother and your father topped and I thought they to be tops in screwballs.”
The former heavyweight champion and his trainer analyze Patterson's weaknesses and reveal how Rocky would KO him
I think Patterson’s a great potential fighter. Maybe it seems strange to use a word like “potential” about a man who’s already the heavyweight champion, and a man who has the impressive won-and-lost record Patterson does. But, forgetting Moore, who was past his peak when Floyd faced him and who I think Rocky softened up for Patterson, the only first-class opponent Floyd has met was Tommy “Hurricane” Jackson.
As the ambivalent brother whose agonizing scene of drunken introspection is the high point of Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Robards leaves his audiences stunned, and himself too keyed to eat, sleep, or do anything but go on talking “...and that TV show where the ending was played one way at dress, then on the air Eli cut out his speech altogether, and did that inspired long walk out, while we just stood there with egg on our faces....”
Las Vegas’ prettiest show girls sparkle in $15,000,000 setting
In Las Vegas’ frantic competition to see who can construct the biggest and fanciest hotel, the current champion by far is the new $15,000,000 Tropicana (four lobbies)—an airconditioned pleasure dome, located on “The Strip,” which can be readily identified by its tulip-shaped fountain spouting water sixty feet into the air from a 112-foot-long swimming pool.
Camera Panorama. Retina IIIc accepts interchangeable lens components, $165, Kodak. Energy from light rays supplies power which adjusts lens on new Bell & Howell, $169.95. Single lens reflex has 6 interchangeable lenses and 3 interchangeable backs, Hasselblad, $379.50.
His voice failing, Runyon told final fables of the era of wonderful nonsense
DAMON RUNYON was going to lose his voice soon. The X-ray treatments had only worsened his throat, and he was awaiting the surgeon's decision to take away his powers of speech. He sat, in those last eloquent days, at one end of Darryl Zanuck’s executive table, the voluble genius of 20th Century-Fox at the other end.
Kathakali, the weird, violent, symbolic dance drama of India, is being performed for the first time outside India in the United States this fall. Stemming from the Malabar coast of South India, it depicts scenes from the Ramayana, is enacted at temple fairs to the sputtering bursts of high-pitched drums.
AT five o’clock the afternoon sun wanes aslant the smart low-roofed shops of Westwood, hangs heavy over corners like a loose saffron shawl, flooding office and showroom with folds of yellow light, turning the cream-walled cubicles of the Mayfair Coiffeur to a golden rose.
The brains of a man are far more exciting than his brawn, says this knowledgeable actress
I have never been one to go for the big, handsome pretty-boy with muscles on his brain as well as his bone structure. He bores me. I have always been attracted by the egghead—the bright man with the vital, curious mind, the man with talent and imagination.
THROUGH the open window Olaf Jenson could smell the sea and hear the occasional foghorn of a freighter; outside, rain pelted down through an August night, drumming softly upon the pavements of Copenhagen, inducing drowsiness, bringing dreamy memory, relaxing the tired muscles of his work-wracked body.
TO MARKET, TO MARKET” is the clarion cry of American investors in the year 1957. Never before have so many citizens applied their savings to corporate ownership in American Big Business. Eight million, six hundred and thirty thousand to be exact, now own shares in corporations listed on the stock exchanges.
If Wall Street is the Colosseum of capitalism, then the New York Stock Exchange is its arena. In it, eighty-five per cent of dollar volume of the nation’s 4,760,000,000 securities are traded, with thirteen other exchanges across the country left to divide the bones.
Stocks can fluctuate widely not only in price but in volume of sales as well. When these pictures were taken, Chrysler was the liveliest issue of the day. The reason for such flurries of trading can be traced to causes as direct as a firm’s announcement of an extra quarterly dividend, or as indirect as a rumor concerning the marital happiness of a company president
SHORTLY after World War II, the New York Stock Exchange, like many other American institutions, began to look around for the role it would play in the brave new world a-building. The years before the war had been difficult ones at the Exchange, which had lost reputation, money and personnel all through the Thirties; and the years after the first big war had been so appallingly good that the very mention of the Twenties still conjured up an attitude of criminal recklessness in the stock market.
IT is a sign of the times that in Grand Central Terminal in New York City the brokers Merrill Lynch, Pierce, Fenner & Beane operate an “Investment Information Center.” Travelers and commuters and even the people who cut through Grand Central to get from Lexington Avenue to Madison Avenue on rainy days need only step up to the counter to have their stock-market questions answered.
Nowadays it’s meant for the man in the street, not for the man in THE street
MURRAY TEIGH BLOOM
ONE HUNDRED YARDS south of the New York Stock Exchange is the eight-story limestone home of the Wall Street Journal whose 486,000 purchasers everywhere are the men who keep getting ahead, including seventeen Moscow bureaucrats who get the capitalist sheet regularly—with Kremlin approval.
Not only a pleasant midday drink, but also one to land you on your feet the morning after. In a shaker or blender: one and one-half ounces sherry, one-half cup shaved ice, one heaping teaspoon granulated sugar, a whole egg, three dashes creme de cacao.
To Rome recently went Mr. R. O. Blechman, master of the squiggly style, under assignment from Esquire to record his impressions of David O. Selznick’s forthcoming film, A Farewell to Arms. Mr. Blechman speaks:
<p>SOMETIME within the next twelve months after you read this, the first American-built jetliner to be delivered to an American airline will roar down a runway, and the blast of its engines will burn to smoke every notion you’ve ever had about air travel.</p>
A chart of airplane characteristics such as the one above can only be an indication of what the planes will be like, not a precise engineering description, as the actual details will vary with manufacturers’ definitions and the various models ordered by the different airlines.
THE most exciting—and at the same time frustrating—story we’ve worked on in a long time is Travel 1960: The Jet Comes of Age, which you’ll read in the preceding pages. Exciting to watch and listen while some of the leading figures of the airline and airplane businesses polished up the crystal ball and looked into the immediate future, and frustrating because it was a story we were never able to wrap up.
Photographer, artist, dancer, actor: Geoffrey Holder as
<p>EVERY once in a while there comes along a man so multi-talented in the arts that no one specific field can satisfy his creative energy. Thus we get a Wyndham Lewis in England or a Jean Cocteau in France, men of such lush cultural fertility that they bring to mind the manifold richness of art in the days of the Renaissance.</p>
ROBERT HURLEY’S wife died in September, and by the middle of October he had more or less settled everything. His son and daughter were both married and lived far away from New York; his son in Los Angeles, his daughter in Toledo. They came East for the funeral and each wanted him to come and visit.
Home lively memories by its first guest on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of New York's aristocralic hotel
Clara Bell Walsh
WHEN the Plaza and I were both quite young, which was a long time ago, I used to go riding in Central Park at dawn. From a mounting block across Fifty-ninth Street from the entrance to the hotel, I would mount my horse and then—abruptly and as if by some magic—it would be, for a little while anyway, as if I were back again in Lexington, Kentucky, and riding out from Bell House, where I was born and grew up.
The woven stripes that graduate from grey to brown make the season’s most incendiary blazer. Richard Conte, who manages to win Silvana Mangano in Columbia’s upcoming This Bitter Earth, keeps it casual with turned-up cuffs, and fastens only the last of the stiacciato buttons.
BEES were drifting around the hollyhocks by the alley fence and there was a single incandescent cloud near the sun when Joe Becker carried his brand-new easel and paintbox out of the basement. Down the street—probably in front of the Carriers’—he heard the crickety buzz of a sports car’s horn.
HIDEAWAY BAR for home or office holds 40 bottles, 4 doz. glasses. When closed, a liquor cabinet; when opened, for self-service; turned around, for bartender service. Adjustable shelves. Brass fittings. In pine or maple finishes. $49.95 finished; $32.95 in kit form.