For the last few years both Esquire and Gentlemen’s Quarterly have been represented on the Coty Awards Board of Trustees, a circumstance that was deemed meet and fitting only after the scope of the Coty American Fashion Critics Awards was broadened to include fashions for men.
Most magazines hardly ever run photographs of their editorial staffs; this one does. Above, from left to right, are us. The answer to the question we hope you have had the grace to ask is: since a number of famous people were brave and generous enough to make funny faces for our readers—see pages 116 to 123—in this issue, we felt we could not ourselves appear less generous than Herman Kahn and Sally Struthers and the others.
It is true, as James Villas points out in The Social Status of the Martini, April issue, that the young have not taken to the classic Martini. But what else can one expect of a generation whose drinking experience has been limited to nipple and Ripple?
There are certain lives that have a kind of simple poetic beauty. I’m thinking of those dime-novel sagas of poor boys whose parents cannot afford to buy them pony rides at the amusement park who end up with tax losses in racing horses, and poor girls with crippling childhood diseases who end up tapping their toes and hearts away as topliners for Flo Ziegfeld.
I had just finished working a game in Auburn in the New York-Penn League,” remembers ex-umpire Jake O’Donnell, “and I was on my way to my car. It had been a rough day. I ejected the home team’s manager after an argument and the crowd wouldn’t let me forget it.
It is dangerous for a critic to become friendly with an artist: you don’t listen in the same way to the work of someone of whom you are fond. Mostly, it’s a matter of worrying on his (or her) behalf. When your friend makes what you consider a mistake, you take it too seriously, and when you like the performance you feel you should be hard at work controlling your enthusiasm.
Frank Serpico, thirty-six, former New York City cop, now “drifting-through Europe, trying to get his head together,” is an authentic American hero, maybe unique, and Peter Maas has written a book about him (Serpico, Viking Press; $8.95).
The courts are closing down Deep Throat across the country and I guess I’m supposed to be upset about it because I’m against censorship. The only trouble is I’m also against Deep Throat, which any idiot can see hasn’t an ounce of “redeeming social value” (that Supreme Court fence under which all the hard-core fellows have been crawling); it’s just a depressingly ugly piece of work that displays not a hint of talent in any department, isn’t sexy and isn’t funny (intentionally or not).
In his memoirs, Inside the Third Reich, Albert Speer quotes A dolf Hitler as saying: “If the Finance Minister could realize what a source of income to the state my buildings will be in fifty years! Remember what happened with Ludwig II. Everyone said he was mad because of the cost of his palaces.
Unless you are very young, vacation when you were a kid meant piling into the family car and driving twenty-four hundred miles round trip to Yellowstone Park. You have not forgotten—admit it—how pretty Yellowstone Park used to be. Paying for it all yourself instead of letting Daddy handle everything may take a little of the glow off, but the geysers still operate as well as formerly.
Philadelphia is a good place to pick up the trail of George Washington; it was here that he served as a delegate to the first Continental Congress, accepted his commission as Commander in Chief of the Continental Army, presided at the convention that drew up the Constitution and spent most of his years as President.
It was only twelve and a half years between the death of George Washington and the outbreak of the War of 1812, and you can pick up the thread of American history by visiting New Orleans, where the final battle was fought, and the bayou country that Jean Lafitte roamed before joining forces with Andrew Jackson.
Seeds for the mid-nineteenth century flowering of American literature in New England were sown in the time the nation was being drawn into the War of 1812, fighting it, and recovering from it. Emerson was born in Boston in 1803; Hawthorne in near-by Salem a year later.
In the second half of the nineteenth century, while the Eastern part of the country was enjoying a cultivated society and literature was flowering in New England, uncouth characters were busy winning the West. It’s not inconceivable that while Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe were having tea and cookies at Nook Farm, George Custer and the 7th Cavalry were meeting their fate at the Little Bighorn.
The most down-to-earth way of capturing the spirit of the old West is to be a part-time cow puncher: staying at a real working cattle ranch—in contrast to a guest ranch—and helping out with the chores. However, very few working ranches will put up—or put up with—guests or let the dudes mess around with the jobs that have to be done, even if they’re willing to pay for the privilege.
Even though the American frontier itself has long since disappeared, many wide open spaces remain—especially in the lake country of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and Wisconsin’s north woods. It could be covered on a long swing from Detroit up north and then around and down to Chicago, but the heart of the vacationland lies between Sault Ste.
If a trip abroad should prove impractical this year—or if you’ve already been around the world and want to see someplace else—you might try discovering the world on a New York vacation. You can find replicas of many of the world’s major tourist destinations on an automobile swing from New York City to Buffalo via the Thousand Islands covering six hundred miles or so.
You can’t spend a whole vacation at Buck Island Reef National Monument, but it could very well be the one day’s high spot of a visit to the Virgin Islands. About a mile long and six hundred yards at its widest, Buck Island is an uninhabited stretch of powdery white sand surrounded by turquoise water about five miles from Christiansted, off the northeast coast of St. Croix.
Dog sledding on the frozen edges of the Bering Sea, jigging for tomcod through a hole in the ice with the Eskimos in front of an igloo, panning for gold, flying in a ski-plane with a half ton of frozen reindeer meat to remote villages—these are the travel experiences of the winter vacationist in Arctic Alaska.
George Lichtheim’s foreword to his Collected Essays (Viking, $15) contains the welcome sentence, “I am not a trained sociologist nor a professional historian in the conventional meaning of the term.” This amounts to a guarantee— more than fulfilled—that his comments on contemporary events, ideologies and people will be skeptical, accurate and perceptive rather than wildly credulous, misleading and biased.
<p>On Friday evening, September 22, 1972, Dr. Michel Hanna was paged three times during performance of A Clockwork Orange at the Ridge Theatre in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. He took each call in the box office outside, where he was distracted by late arrivals buying tickets.</p>
Cancer is the leading cause of death in the United States except for diseases of the heart. It kills more women between thirty and fifty-four than any other factor and more children between three and fourteen than any other disease. After accidents, cancer racks up the highest mortality rate in people under thirty-five.
Cancer is principally a disease of old age. More than half of all cancer deaths occur in persons over sixty-five, more than three quarters over fifty. Although leukemia is responsible for half the cancer cases of American children, it is extremely rare (4 per 100,000).
"The items shown here represent drudgery on earth. In Heaven you don’t have to vacuum floors or clean hairs off your sink or pick dog food off your garbage can. You can appreciate these things for what they are: nice to look at. The song lyric is one of my favorites; I’d like to dance to it when I’m in Heaven.
As an architect, I am often reminded of the structural similarities between elements of a building and many common non-architectural objects. Structural theory applies equally to both, so an evaluation of their stress properties differs only in the scale of the stress involved.
The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Eréndira and Her Heartless Grandmother
You’ll gasp, you’ll sob, you’ll shriek in wonder
Gabriel García Márquez
Eréndira was bathing her grandmother when the wind of her misfortune began to blow. The enormous mansion of moon-like concrete lost in the solitude of the desert trembled down to its foundations with the first attack. But Eréndira and her grandmother were used to the risks of the wild nature there, and in the bathroom decorated with peacocks and childish mosaics of Roman baths they scarcely paid any attention to the wind.
<p>The houselights dim . . . there is a fanfare ... a voice comes over the loudspeaker. ... “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present today’s most honored musician—Duke Ellington!” Harry Carney stamps his foot and the band begins to play Take the A Train.</p>
June 17 cometh, so let’s hear it for Dad—through the classy gift speakers opposite, maybe. For music to cook out by, at top is an indoor-outdoor speaker from Empire Scientific Corp.; $139.95. Beneath it are two Swedish jobs from Intercontinental Enterprises which angle to suit your frequency fancy; $125 per fancy.
Who’s afraid of screenwriter John Milius? Let’s see, Pauline Kael, Paul Newman, Carl Foreman, John Huston...
<p>The ensuing dialogue takes place in the men’s can at Warner Bros. Burbank studios following a screening of the Robert Redford film, Jeremiah Johnson. The film is based on a script, Liver-eating Johnson, coauthored by screenwriter John Milius.</p>
What is this funny white stuff, anyhow, and who’s buying half a billion servings a year?
Leslie Aldridge Westoff
Last year or the year before that, the entire American population seemed to be munching vitamin C pills to cure colds, vitamin E pills to prevent heart attacks and baldness, or wearing copper bracelets to cure tennis elbow. Suddenly we know, with that shock that hits us when we realize that everyone else is doing what we’re doing, that Americans are hooked on something new.
The essential characteristic of a yogurt-making machine is its power to hold the mix at a relatively constant temperature in the region of 110 degrees Fahrenheit, more or less, while the bacteria do their work on the milk. The result is yogurt.
An eight-ounce container of plain yogurt runs somewhere between 130 and 160 calories; an equal quantity of sour cream is about 450, not that anybody would eat that much sour cream at a sitting; but if one did, the reduction in calories would amount to three hundred or so.
<p>One fine morning, a Florida boy with sunrise-colored hair was up in Manhattan and walking ever so leisurely by Rockefeller Center. A veteran of Vietnam, a killer of ten, twenty, thirty—well, a man doesn’t count their noses if they’re nothing but Vietnamese—civilians, he wore a brown tweed suit and a matching tweed vest.</p>
An extraordinary memoir: a remembrance of Dashiell Hammett and a High Mass for life's lowest creature
<p>I had awakened at five and decided to fish for a few hours. I rowed the dinghy out to the boat on that lovely foggy morning and then headed around my side of Martha’s Vineyard into the heavy waters of West Chop. Up toward Lake Tashmoo I found the quiet rip where the flounders had been running, put out two lines, and made myself some coffee.</p>
The 747 is either the greatest airliner ever invented or it’s the worst way of getting to Europe since they abolished steerage—it all depends on just who is telling you about his trip. And that, in turn, depends on whose 747 he flew and, probably more importantly, just when.
His nose would look even funnier. He wouldn’t have to shave twice a day. He wouldn’t wince when Sammy Davis hugged him. Checkers would have been a German shepherd. He would like professional basketball. He would play the piano better. His favorite movie would be Sounder.
Heimaey, the only inhabited spot in the Vestmann Islands eight miles south of Iceland, was perhaps never Paradise, but it was home —in fact, its name means “Home Isle”—to 5300 people, two percent of the population of Iceland. Within four hours after the beginning of the volcanic eruption that started last January, most of the population had been evacuated without a single casualty.
Suppose You Had to Choose Between the Two Best Sedans in the World...
Oh, go on, just suppose
Attending new-car introductions is normally considered by automotive journalists to be a good time for catching up on one’s sleep, because what you usually get to see is an all-new car that is patently the all-new car you saw last year, but with the sheet metal reworked a little here and there.
Why the Editor of Newsweek Is Not the Editor of Time, and Vice Versa
Some facts and opinions about Henry Grunwald and Osborn Elliott
<p>Henry Anatole Grunwald is managing editor of Time magazine, and Osborn Elliott is editor of Newsweek, the two most important newsmagazines in this country and very likely in the world. As such they are responsible for the staffs, the contents, the styles, and for that matter the success or failure of the two publications.</p>
I grow old in the house of my body. Wicker rockers tilt in my eyes. Pink camelias grow in my hair Though I clip them and clip them They are whispering to my pleated breasts And my thighs, you are young, young, young.
La Forêt is one of the most stylized, intimate and beautiful rooms in New York City for dining and entertainment. It is downstairs in The Pierre, a hotel not noted for catering to those on a budget, and is most easily reached from the Sixtieth Street side, just east of Fifth Avenue.
Page 8: photograph by Dan Wynn. Pages 68-86: maps by William T. O’Brien. Page 104: photographs courtesy of The National Cancer Institute. Page 107: still from Love Story courtesy of Paramount Pictures; still from Brian's Sony courtesy of Columbia Pictures; carcinoma in situ enlargement from Ackerman, Lauren V., and del Regato, Juan A.: