THE SHADOWY presence on the right is the man our readers know as Stanley Bing, the corporate Machiavelli who for two years has given us his beady-eyed lowdown on what evils lurk in the American office. Bing’s column is called The Strategist and appears this month, as always, in our Smart Money section.
“OUR MAN in Managua” (by Joe Klein, November) did much to clarify my own experiences in Vietnam, where I served as Westmoreland’s chief of intelligence briefing and reports during 1965 and 1966. Because of my security level, I was privy not only to what was going on in Vietnam, but to how hard the U.S. press was trying to subvert our efforts to be successful.
Before he goes to his midtown New York showroom every morning, Alan Flusser fastens his French cuffs with a pair of period cuff links, clips on an antique collar pin, and secures his tie with a turn-of-the-century tie clip. Each piece in his collection is handpicked by and very special to Flusser, the men’s fashion designer and author of Clothes and the Man.
It should come as no surprise that among the many icons of contemporary Americana displayed in the Smithsonian Institution, one finds J. R. Ewing’s cowboy hat from Dallas. Since the day John Stetson made the prototype in 1865, cowboy hats have never not symbolized one aspect or another of our evolving national character.
For Americans who lived through the Vietnam era, it is eye-opening to go somewhere in the world where we’re not merely tolerated but loved. Not merely not picketed, you understand—but cheered, admired, looked up to. Where the graffiti are actually in our favor.
Step right up! Hear Unthan the Armless Wonder play the violin with his feet! Meet Toby the Sapient Pig, who can spell, play cards, tell time, and read your thoughts! See Madame Kowalsky the Polish Enchantress breathe fire! Step right up, only seventy-five cents! Actually, it will cost $29.95 for this extraordinary visit behind the sideshow curtain, but Learned Pigs & Fireproof Women (Villard Books) is worth the price of admission.
What, really, do we know of the lives of winemakers? They seem always to be joyfully springing through their fields at harvest time, jetting off to Paris for vertical tastings (whatever they are), or dusting off priceless bottles of Cabernet so they might have a refreshing drink with lunch.
Unfortunately, one of the finest-eating freshwater fish in North America is named after a house pet. If catfish were purveyed as poisson-chat, which sounds kind of elegant, its current boom in popularity would have occurred long ago. Of course, there are many weird-looking fish hiding behind various sobriquets: the succulent lotte, as every student knows, is the ugly monkfish; the celebrated loup de mer is a toothed nightmare known as the wolffish; and the red mullet or rouget of the Mediterranean is not a mullet at all but really a goatfish.
A subtle shift can take your stride beyond the ordinary
AT ABOUT 6:00 one evening last summer, two airline pilots left their hotel in Boston and went for a stroll. They took a wrong turn into an area where many of the young men they saw at the comers had bottles and who knows what else in their hands, and were aggressively casing outsiders.
<p>In the sepia-tinged memory of my early youth, there resides the ominous figure of a neighbor who was said to have “sold short on his own company. ” Though the literal ramifications of the act—as with embezzlement, antidisestablishmentarianism, and pederasty—meant nothing to me at the time, it was quite clear from the way others talked of the great wealth accumulated by selling short that the activity involved some peculiarly venal manner of betrayal.</p>
There’s a saying in the airline industry that there’s no commodity as perishable as an airline seat. (It’s heard only within the industry because no one in that business ever uses a word like “perishable” around outsiders.) A seat on any given flight can only be sold once—and if it’s not sold by flight time, it never will be.
The taste of the Caribbean that people have gotten in the past few years is probably a tad spicier than they would normally like. But outside of the hot spots, things are leisure-as-usual. Investors should keep in mind, however, that transfer taxes for nonresidents can add an additional 5 to 13 percent to a purchase price.
One recent night in the hours before an unwelcome dawn, as I lay awake formulating worst-case scenarios, I amused myself by trying to recall the days before I was paranoid. Without much luck. I’ve been in business a long time. Back in the green days when virgin wing tips still cramped my toes, I trembled in the shadow of multiform superiors, exquisitely aware that I was teetering over a void where no one is overpaid.
One of the few tax-advantaged investments to survive virtually untouched by last year’s historic tax bill is the inside buildup of cash-value life-insurance policies and annuities. For the uninitiated, including those who have had only term insurance (pure protection, with no accompanying investment account), what are the benefits of a cash-value policy?
In the cutthroat world of air travel, it’s usually the Type-A early birds who book in advance that get the discount fares, leaving the rest of us to pay the heavy freight. Well, for $100 a year you can join Eastern Airlines’ Weekender Club and receive each week a Mailgram offering lower-than-budget fares on empty seats for about ten selected weekend flights.
For something that is supposed to benefit four out of five Americans, the new tax bill certainly has created more than its share of woe. Perhaps that’s because the only obvious beneficiaries are the very poor (for once) and the very rich (as usual), while the rest of us in the middle are confused and concerned.
<p>Before we go nose to nose, as he says, I want to tell a story behind the commissioner’s back. This might seem cowardly. But after five interviews with Mr. Ueberroth, I am in possession of these facts: when he turns his face to the matter at hand and fixes it with the crooked grin and eyes that crinkle but do not smile, we are going to talk about what he wants to talk about, in a way he wants it talked about.</p>
Some actresses are born, and others are reborn, but only a few are born late. Helen Shaver is one of them. After a fifteen-year career of semi forgettable roles in semi forgettable movies, the thirty-five-year-old Canadian actress is finally getting her due.
Return with us now those throbbing days of yesteryear
<p>In 1964, the year I turned seventeen, I kept a diary on the advice of a journalism teacher, who said that writing every day was the best training for becoming a reporter. I lived in Bexley, Ohio, a suburb of Columbus; I was a junior at Bexley High School.</p>
<p>It is a splendid afternoon for a felony. Mike Roselle drains his beer, crumples the can in one hand, and tosses it, without looking, into the back of his battered Volkswagen. Inside his dusty backpack are fifty pounds of six-inch-long nails, a five-pound short-handled sledgehammer, and a can of white spray paint.</p>
Professional golfers travel the same route up the East Coast as migrant farm workers, starting in Florida and moving on through Georgia and the Carolinas with the awakening spring, following the paychecks north. Calvin Peete’s got these seasons in his bones.
Previewing what's new and noteworthy for the spring and summer of 1987
Twice a year, a vast, rambling fashion network folds itself up and travels. It’s called Doing Europe, and it’s part circus, part convention, part holy pilgrimage. The fall and spring collections—the latest styles from the finest designers—are shown in Paris, Milan, and Florence, and to know what’s happening, you’ve got to be there.
Here is why writers should never respond to their reviews. In 1969,I published a book called The Studio. The review in Time was generally enthusiastic, except for a comment that I had used a word wrong. The word was vicissitudes, and the reviewer said I was the sort of writer who thought vicissitudes was classier than ups and downs.
Page 116: (top to bottom) Gianni Versace sport jacket and trousers at Gianni Versace Boutique, New York and Los Angeles. Sweater at Gianni Versace Boutique, Scottsdale, Arizona and San Francisco; Hirshleifer’s Men, Manhasset, New York. For information contact: Gianni Versace Boutique, 816 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10021.
Once upon a time, across Sherritt Cove from Nopoint Point on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, there was a handsome, low, wooded headland, “unimproved” but for a collapsing goose blind on its Goldsboro Creek side and a path to that blind from the county road through becreepered stands of oak, ash, and pine.
An exhibit on America’s machine age will finish its successful run at the Brooklyn Museum this month before traveling to museums in Pittsburgh, Los Angeles, and Atlanta. The show is a collection of drawings, photographs, and streamlined objects—cars and clocks, radios and furniture—that were made during the years between the two world wars.