I used to see a lot of Sam Jaffe, subject of the Taylor Branch articles (Washington: Sam Jaffe and the New Blacklist, March, and The Man Who Called Walter Cronkite a Spy, April), during the years 1953 and 1954, when we were both newly married to our first wives.
<p>She was born when Queen Victoria had almost twenty years to reign. She was known to be chary of sex with anyone. She was physically so shy that it was a nervous agony for her to try on a new dress in a shop and to buy underclothes. A lesbian friend said, “I am scared to death of arousing physical feelings in her, because of the madness.”</p>
There are few names in travel that inspire such passionate reaction as Freddie Laker’s. To the traveling public he is the champion of the tourist masses, come to rescue them from the venal clutches of the travel oligarchy. For its part, the travel establishment sees Laker as a publicity-grabbing blusterer who opens his mouth mainly to change feet.
In the beginning was the word. But by the time the second word was added to it, there was trouble. For with it came syntax, the thing that tripped up so many people. And they’re tripping up more than ever today. It is amazing to find established, leading American writers committing the kind of grammatical errors that in the days when college was not yet junior high school, and high school not yet kindergarten, would have been unacceptable from a mere student.
In a letter to William Saroyan, H.L. Mencken had this to say about magazine editing: “I note what you say about your aspiration to edit a magazine. I am sending you by this mail a six-chambered revolver. Load it and fire every one into your head.
When I heard this spring that Lenny Randle of the Texas Rangers had battered his manager, Frank Lucchesi, I remembered the time an athlete with a history of hitting people called me long-distance. He said he had thought we were friends, that after reading what I’d written about him he felt betrayed.
<p>I started to write this column about the new special sections in The New York Times. I had a nice lead for it, and I had a funny story to tell, and I had a few points to make about the Cuisinarting of America. I went over to The Times and had an amazing interview with a Times business executive who talked about something called psychographics.</p>
The Goat Day Olympics starts in Lillian’s Music Store, which is no music store at all, but one of the best bars in northern Florida. George Swinford, a good man with anything but a better man with a nickel, started the place on five hundred dollars from his Bank Americard.
It all began quite accidentally. I wanted to go farther north than my northern Michigan home for a few days of rest from nothing—a condition of torpor that is the most exhausting of all human activities. So I loaded my old yellow Chevy pickup with gear and headed out for the Straits of Mackinac, deciding at the last moment to avoid the freeway by passing through Charlevoix and Petoskey.
The subject of this column is something like “Your Tax Bracket: It’s Higher Than You Think,” but I want to lead into it through the back door (now that I have a back door) of my new apartment. Probably the best, most sensible, most potentially lucrative and rewarding investment you can make today, regardless of where you live or what your financial situation, is to buy a cooperative apartment on Manhattan’s increasingly fashionable upper West Side. I want to stress that my saying this has absolutely nothing to do with my just having purchased such an apartment, nor with my intense interest in seeing its market value rise.
So you want to get a job. And jobs are hard to get. Oddly enough, that’s not a bad situation to find yourself in. It means you’ll have to sweat a little, worry a little, plan quite a bit. And you’ll get wiser quicker, which is the valuable thing about it.
The Generation That Was Never Going to Have to Work
One day there was a job to do, and somebody had to do it
<p>I could see this good-bye was going to be hard to take. It wasn’t going to be quite as memorable as the time I got on a plane in the Manila airport and saw a Filipino soldier push my wife, Andrea, away from the observation-deck rail with his submachine-gun butt.</p>
Achieving Job Fit Is the work you are doing laborious, difficult and tedious? Can others do it faster and better than you can? In that case, you are probably pursuing the wrong career. But what is the right one? Think: what do you do so well you take it for granted; what do you do that always makes people say, “Hey, you’re good at that!”?
Okay, your parents paid $20,000 to put you through four years of college. So how come no one will hire you? Because, kid, you gotta know someone. You don’t? Then you must know someone who knows someone who has an uncle. Of course you do. That’s why you went to college, stupid.
Just relax, be yourself, and everything will be awful
Advice to the job hunter, like advice to the lovelorn and the fat, is one of those subjects people like to make pious rules for and publish worthless books about. I have looked at several job-hunter books, in particular the sections devoted to The Interview, and I can tell you they are mostly trash.
You’ll have enough on your mind during a job interview without worrying whether your clothes are wrecking your chances. And they might be: eighty-four out of over a hundred top executives polled by fashion consultant John Molloy admitted that they had rejected job applicants on the basis of inappropriate attire alone.
The demand for skilled accountants is decidedly on the rise. What’s more, this growing arena of business offers a relatively even distribution of job opportunities throughout the country. While the picture is optimistic for members of both sexes, the employment of women accountants, according to the Department of Labor, has increased more rapidly than that of men since the early Sixties.
Have you ever thought of selling a really good popover?
A liberal-arts education is a little like a pet hamster: a nice thing to have that’s just shy of being good for anything. Not that knowing the subplot of The Golden Bowl or the declension of a Greek noun will actually do you any harm in life. But you’re probably finding out about the pragmatic real world fast enough without any sympathy from us.
There are plenty of good jobs that plenty of people think they are too good for. Maybe it’s time to think again
Right now, there are enough historians to last for the next sixty years. English majors are in about as much demand as disposable underwear. Law schools graduate in the neighborhood of thirty-five thousand people each year, and sooner or later somebody is going to have to fix those lawyers’ leaky pipes and patch their driveways.
We asked a number of prominent Americans to tell us about their first full-time, salaried jobs. Here are their replies
After graduating from high school in Constantine, Michigan, I got my first job working in a local creamery for $1 a day. That seemed like pretty good pay, but shortly afterwards we were raised to $3.20 a day because of N.R.A. regulations, and it seemed even better.
Remember that if all else fails, Uncle Sam wants you, wants you so badly, in fact, that his lust is almost palpable. Next year the Army alone will spend over $280,000,000 to seduce you into its ranks. Over $50,000,000 of that is for advertising.
These cartoons could change your life—or at least your tennis game. Will Eisner has played tennis about five hours a week for the last twenty-five years without improving. But he wins. He says lessons are not nearly as important as cheating.
For several months, beginning last fall and ending just after the inauguration, I lived a dazzling life. I had just turned twenty-four and my evenings were spent mingling with Barbra Streisand, Liza Minnelli and Faye Dunaway; Norman Mailer, Kurt Vonnegut and Gay Talese; Linda Ronstadt, John Lennon and Bruce Springsteen ; Chevy Chase, Kris Kristofferson and Peter Falk; Barbara Walters, Bella Abzug and Lee Radziwill; and finally even Jimmy Carter and Walter Mondale.
By the end of the summer of 1967, I had six helmets in the trunk of my car. Trophies, proof that I had been there, in some of the one hundred twenty-seven cities where they, “the Negroes,” rioted or otherwise disturbed the peace between May and September.
<p>I know a lot! I know about happiness! I don’t mean the love of God, either: I mean I know the human happiness with the crimes in it. Even the happiness of childhood. I think of it now as a cruel, middle-class happiness. Let me describe one time—one day, one night.</p>
“Another Bloody Mary recipe? Didn’t they print one last year?” No, we didn’t. And this is not just another recipe for just another Bloody Mary. This one’s different. Got that? Until next summer, then, when we present you with the Best Bloody Mary Recipe Number Umpteen.
<p>“I’d rather hit than have sex,”
Reggie Jackson offered up to the man from <i>Time</i>
who was laboring on a cover story. “God, do I love to hit that little round
sum-bitch out of the park and make ’em say, ‘Wow!’”
Mementos and Memories of the 1936 Cairo World's Fair
Remember the Pyramitrion? Six pages for nostalgia buffs
Even Edward VIII had to ride that decrepit train from downtown Cairo out to the fair, but not us. We chartered our own little De Havilland plane because this let you get in some wog bombing. That was Bucky French’s term. The plane would come dipping in to land and we’d lean out and drop bags of Bruce McCall appears regularly in Esquire.
If you can do it well, you’ve passed the ultimate test of character
At eight-twenty p.m. in New York, a middle-aged American executive in town on business approaches the stone-faced maître d’ at La Caravelle, twenty minutes late for his reservation. He is alone. He wears a beige lightweight suit, carries a newspaper under his arm, and looks a bit lost.
A. Hard Facts Unearthed by Esquire’s Team of Researchers: Lesley-Anne Down: born, London, March 17, 1954. Began modeling before thirteen, quickly bored with this, entered Professional Children’s School, where trained as actress, singer, dancer, etc. At fifteen, described by British press as THE MOST BEAUTIFUL TEENAGER IN BRITAIN. Very likely true.
The last time he saw her she was eight, strawberry curls spilled down her back. Those days he’d pull squares of divinity out of her ears to make her giggle. He still has a moustache and a worried look, sometimes éclairs burn, sweet rolls fail to rise, angel food falls.
<p>Spiro T. Agnew (“Ted”) Vice-President of the United States Most Memorable Statement: “I will not resign if indicted! I will not resign if indicted!” (9/73) Today: President of Pathlite, a Maryland-based international busiPaul Slansky was waiting in line for tickets to a Rolling Stones concert in Philadelphia when the Watergate break-in occurred.</p>
When you enter the showroom of an automobile that is priced over $100,000, you expect something extra in everything—even the sales pitch. And in the hushed Beverly Hills emporium where the Stutz motorcar is enshrined, you will not be disappointed.
No one’s around to tell us why Rembrandt van Rijn elected to display himself with a hat in almost everyone of the nearly threescore self-portraits he drew and painted. If the busy milliner knew, he left no record. If Freud had a guess, he wasn’t talking.