Word: bourbon
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...Edward Ball, the debate about extending the mandatory retirement age from 65 to 70 (see cover story page 18) must seem like a plentiful waste of time. A peppery 89, Ball is a monumentally stubborn, bourbon-sipping, union-busting, Government-fighting apostle of 19th century free enterprise. As senior trustee of the estate of the late chemical heir Alfred I. du Pont, he regularly puts in a full, often tumultuous work week managing one of the nation's greatest private treasuries. Operating out of a spartan office in Jacksonville, Fla., the 5-ft. 5-in. entrepreneur has long been...
...starters, Lelong Drive, leading up to the city's Museum of Art, was painted a kind of Nile blue. The Fairmont Hotel opened a tent restaurant outside the museum with such specialties as Sphinxburger, Queen Nefertiti's Salad and Ramses' Gumbo. Bourbon Street Exotic Dancer Chris Owens, in a new Egyptian costume complete with vulture collar and emblems of the god Ra, is gyrating through a routine entitled "Pharaoh's Favorite Toy." The New Leviathan Oriental Fox Trot Orchestra has released an Old King Tut album, and Tut T shirts are also catching on. For those...
...furniture in some parts of the country has increased about 25% a year during the past four years. Dick Kritsky, a California grocery-store manager, has spurned the stock market in favor of collecting hand-painted whisky bottles sold by Hass Brothers of San Francisco, distillers of Cyrus Noble bourbon. He has assembled 45 bottles, appraised at $4,000; prudently, Kritsky does not open the bottles but keeps them filled with their original bourbon...
...That first shot of Scotch or bourbon-consumed, perhaps, during a surreptitious afternoon raid on Dad's liquor cabinet-tasted invariably like oil, or worse. For those who could not acquire the taste for the hard stuff, the answer was abstinence, beer or some sort of cocktail. Today, many liquor companies are gambling that there is a new category of American-those weaned on Tootsie Rolls, malts and Life Savers -who have been panting for something else: a souped-up soft drink...
...they imagined. He went out to dinner with her parents--no take-out Chinese from those Chiang gang at the Hong Kong; shit man, these people were rich. They went out to Locke-Ober's, but Shapiro, to steel himself for the ordeal, had drunk too much bourbon. By the time the steak tartare had arrived he was green; rapturously ill, he tried to run--outside, bathroom, anywhere. Her father would fix him with an eye regarded in some New York financial circles as imperious, but betrayed only the stupidity of six generations of inbreeding, and would...