A quick flight in a plane over any part of these United States will reveal a bright addition to the landscape—the brilliant blue sapphire of the pool. An estimated $600,000,000 will be spent this year for this new American playground, at an average of $3,700 for the complete home unit.
THE British trade magazine Tailor and Cutter has taken us to task for “perpetuating the Hollywood idea of England” in our April Special British Issue. They have done this with such urbane grace that we feel obliged, in common courtesy, to pass on to you their critique in its entirety.
I congratulate you on publishing the courageous, inspiring article Segregation in the Churches written by Dr. Wesley Shrader of Yale Divinity School in your May issue. I am not a subscriber to Esquire, but will be a newsstand buyer frequently from now on.
JOHN BARTH’S new novel, The End of the Road, is scheduled for publication next month. But in this issue you will find a self-contained section of it—a dazzling synthesis of contemporary lunacy and logic entitled The Remobilization of Jacob Horner, which begins on page 55.
THE process of compiling for the Sunday papers the lists of best-selling books entails a smashing amount of skull-breaking labor. Weekly reports must be sent in from bookshops all across and up and down the country, stating which books have been most in demand by their customers.
<p>A beloved Broadway legend chronicles the experience of Arthur Schwartz and Howard Dietz with an agent called Doc Straight. Doc had one client—a girl singer. In a moment of aberration, Schwartz and Dietz booked Doc’s hopeful into a show they were bringing to Broadway.</p>
As July is traditionally the month when the planless, the heedless, the reckless and the feckless, having done nothing about their vacation arrangements, pile into their cars and see what they can scare up at the last minute, it might be appropriate now for us to range up and down the eastern seaboard, finding out what there is of interest that we might be able to pass on to you.
BECAUSE he is a master showman and the possessor of the world’s most famous hands (plus one of the world’s most famous silhouettes), it is easy to forget that Leopold Stokowski has been over the years an immensely influential, and often immensely satisfying, musician.
IT could be that after reading The Americanization of Paris, Ooh La Ogle, Old Man With A Horn and Les Cowboys de Paris in this issue you might very well decide that the French capital is nothing but a lot of cool cats in cowboy suits sipping Cokes and digging Sidney Bechet doing a strip-tease, and therefore to hell with it as far as your travel plans are concerned.
Why baseball's commissioner can't or won't do all they say he could to rescue our national sport
<p>PARTLY because of the late Judge Landis’ imperial stare and partly because of some inspired public-relations work, people have been calling the commissioner of baseball a czar ever since baseball commissioners were invented thirty-seven years ago.</p>
<p>UNDOUBTEDLY the most curious man in public life in America today is a small but strong, earnest and ardent fifty-eight-year-old Minnesota-born former United States Senator from Connecticut named William Burnett Benton. He is curious in both meanings of the word—he is a strange and remarkable human being, who becomes fascinated by virtually everything he runs into.</p>
<p>A new star has risen in Hollywood, and it is neither a boy with muscles and a shock of wavy, black hair, nor a girl with a thirty-eight bust, thirty-six hips, and no waist at all; it doesn’t act, it doesn't sing, it doesn’t pose for cheesecake. It is a phenomenon known as Stanley Kubrick, a stringy, wild-haired, carelessly dressed young man of twenty-nine who has directed four feature-length movies, and whose most recent, Paths of Glory, a war film of enormous impact, has established him in the opinion of many as a virtuoso director fit to join the company of such as John Huston, George Stevens, and Elia Kazan.</p>
HENLEY REGATTA, THE WORLD'S MOST ELEGANT SPORTING EVENT
ON the first four days of the first week of July, the serene green-shaded shores of the middle reaches of the Thames, thirty-six miles from London, will burst forth in the most gloriously brilliant display of masculine apparel to be seen in the Western World.
Superpragmatism carried to the point where it almost makes sense
<p>IN September it was time to see the Doctor again: I drove out to the Remobilization Farm the morning during the first week of the month. Because the weather was fine, a number of the Doctor’s other patients, quite old men and women, were taking the air, seated in their wheel chairs or in the ancient cane chairs along the porch.</p>
Cultivate that lady behind the typewriter; she may be the secret of your success
<p>A young executive-vice-president of one of our big television networks returned to his office after an all-afternoon conference with some advertising-agency men one day not long ago and found his desk arranged in what the admirers of the native cliché would call apple-pie order: there was a fresh scratch pad placed neatly in the middle, with a glass of newly sharpened copy pencils beside it, a new package of his favorite cigarettes with three packs of book matches, his desk calendar with the next day’s appointments marked in large red letters, some correspondence to be signed and, as a final touch in this pleasingly businesslike still life, a small bowl of cut flowers.</p>
Suits—as you will observe here and on the following five pages—are the subject of summer’s most original fashion statements. At far right, see the new double-breasted blazer articulated in dark, tropical worsted-and-Dacron, and, for the first time, made with matching trousers.
Look to far right for a jacket designed for sitting comfort —short, loose, lightweight and cut to ride away from the body. It's called the Jetster, because it leads a second life as a flight travel coat with suit trousers: can be folded away in an attaché case when the plane lands.
Right: a hot-weather outfit in which you could trudge along all the streets of Tangier, yet turn up next day in Paris as impeccably groomed as anyone in the Ritz Bar. Double Glen Urquhart plaid is high fashion in any suiting—but in 65 per cent Dacron and 35 per cent cotton, it dries overnight as well.
Despite a disastrous decline in American-made movies, French films are gaining in popularity in the U.S. (Until recently about a dozen a year were released here. Last year there were thirty-seven; this year there will be even more.) Many of these are shown in so-called "art" theatres, but the art in most cases refers to the individualized French beauty of the slim, sexy, often small-bosomed jeunes vedettes.
The new Army: love, togetherness, and strong public relations
THE one thing the MacTavish newspapers prided themselves on was their heart. This heart came from the heart of Major Samuel MacTavish, the venerable owner of the chain, who had repeatedly told his editors: “You’ve got to move the reader. If you don’t move him he’ll go somewhere else to be moved.
From Greece—this pristine equivalent of anisette, clear and colorless until you pour it over cracked ice, when it clouds opalescently whiter than milk. One jigger, plus ice and water in a highball glass, makes an afternoon refresher with olives, squid or cheese.
<p>As perhaps a beast may hear, over many years the sound was for me a pure percept unconnected with any concept or idea; it was always sad, but not ominous. The first time I heard it I was a child on the hazy edge of sense. It came from the coal-house door that had sagged on its hinges and scraped an edge on the concrete floor; then infrequently a breeze might make it by rubbing two branches together, and usually the weathercock above the high ceiling in my bedroom when in the night the wind would veer or back from calm to the wet southwest and coming storm.</p>
the new French revolution is labeled "Made in U.S.A."
<p>SNICK-SNACK! says the pink and purple neon sign; SELF SERVICE! NOS HAMBURGERS! NOS HOTDOGS! Joyless waifs sit on stools within and wash down these delicacies with Coca-Cola, or shove twenty-franc pieces in juke boxes, or stand for hours jiggling pinball machines (Le Tilt is the local name).</p>
In France, even the strip-tease becomes an intellectual exercise
OFFICIALS in Washington who are employed to fret about America’s “cultural impact” abroad can now take heart. Paris, usually a more creative than imitative city, has enthusiastically adopted a spectacle as Yankee as pie à la mode. The French call it le strip-tease, and it may well be the most popular aesthetic import from the United States since le jazz hot wafted across the Atlantic back in the peacefully noisy Twenties.
Sidney Bechet, at sixty-one, is America's most renowned expatriate musician
THERE were six young men in dark blue suits, very young, looking as if their mothers had slicked their hair for them before they’d come shyly onstage. The piano player was a good piano player and the bass player was better than that. The clarinetist, named André, wasn’t bad, and he and the trumpeter made a decent duo.
OF the many American tourists who visit Le Relais de La Belle Aurore, just off the Place de l’Opéra in Paris, few know the colorful secret which prompts the headwaiter, on the first Tuesday of every month, to close the door separating the bar from the dining room—but not, of course, separating the patrons of the dining room from the products of the bar.
I put in a call for George Raft the other night. I wanted to cheer him up. It was late at night. I’d been reading the last installment of his biography in The Saturday Evening Post. It was a sad story—a wretched Dead End childhood, association with bootleggers and criminals, and then, out of that darkness, the rise to stardom.
<p>IN most countries of the world, the very words side trip necessarily mean travel by car. In Switzerland, though, the side-tripper can use public transportation, due to the small size of the country, and the fact that its railway and Alpine motor-coach systems mesh as precisely as the parts of a fine Swiss watch.</p>
<p>THE chestnut man will be here before too long," Cleo said, "and I will buy you a lot of nice chestnuts before bedtime. But you must be a good boy, you must not tell Grandy things Mama says when we’re alone together. After lunch tomorrow maybe he will take you out for a walk around the park.</p>
ALTHOUGH American inventive genius has brought mechanization to almost every held of human activity, it has failed to come up with a machine to take the place of a policeman’s horse. That is why, in an age of souped-up prowl cars, airborne cops and streamlined emergency wagons, men on horseback have survived as an essential part of New York City’s famed Police Department.