Word: blazered
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...church, says Rexford Blazer, 60, chairman of Ashland Oil & Refining Co., is convenient as well as a comfort. His company's seven-story headquarters in the eastern Kentucky hill town of Ashland is directly across the street from Calvary Episcopal Church. On Sunday mornings, while other businessmen are still abed, Blazer works until church time, returns to his desk after services to work until dinnertime...
...Blazer, along with President Orin Atkins, 43, and other Ashland executives, follows what is more or less jocularly called the "Ashland Workweek." It be gins around 8 a.m., lasts ordinarily until midnight, runs seven days a week with only occasional breaks and brief vacations. "I don't think we're any smarter than the competition," explains Blazer, "but I think we outwork them." As a result, in the past five years Ashland has almost tripled sales to $805 million. This week Ashland will regroup 13 small chemical companies acquired since 1963 into a subsidiary with $300 million...
Expanding Backward. Even in a business with more mavericks than most, Ashland is a curious operation. Organized in 1924 by Paul Blazer, late uncle of the present chairman, it expanded backward. Rather than develop crude-oil supplies first and then build refineries and markets, Ashland built its markets in the south-central states, expanded its refineries as the markets grew. Ashland still buys most of its crude oil, hauls its purchases with its own barge fleet, one of the Ohio River's largest, or by means of 5,000 miles of Ashland-owned pipeline. Critics accuse the company...
...lurking in the park, and its character was less complex. NBC was evil. One knew this when one saw a member of their team, insolent in his blue blazer, tanned by the Carribean--or was it Innsbruck--sun, corrupt in his basic indifference to our ragged emotion and hope. He wore a blue plastic badge as a catchet of his sterility. The opportunists from mass media delayed the game so that they could beam coast to coast a clicheridden conversation with the rival managers...
...hated the way Dick Williams, a strange good man, came running to the almighty camera. The interviewer was Sandy Koufax, a patent phony who had sold out for money. Hair slicked down--was it Vitalis or Brylcream--Koufax, also in a blue blazer, underwear by Jantzen, was out of a thousand ads. He slipped a microphone cord around William's neck and made the honest man do tricks for five minutes...