Word: bullfighter
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...black and cream silk dressing gown, chain-smoking black Mexican cigarettes and gracefully flicking the ashes to the floor. Behind him the phone jangled incessantly. ("Tell her I'm out," he would say, "and will be back in an hour.") Around him swirled admirers, newspapermen, photographers, bullfighters and favor-seekers, helping themselves to the free Scotch and brandy, and filling the room with smoke and babble. His three personal servants bustled to unpack 15 leather bags, containing 17 suits and a tailcoat, a small treasure in jewelry, seven gold-embroidered bullfight costumes, and a batch of books which included...
...Dominguin was up soon after 8, to drink his coffee and read the newspaper accounts of his arrival. Then, though he hates exercise, he went out for some roadwork, to get used to the altitude. After that, he was driven to the Plaza Mexico, the world's biggest bullfight arena, which he had never seen. He stamped over the sand, looking for pitfalls, and paced off the distance from the center of the ring to the barrier. Then he went to look at the bulls, the biggest and best Mexico could provide. Someone asked him how he liked...
...stood transfixed. Sombreros began to rain into the ring. "Torero!" yelled the fans, "torero, torero, torero!" He was awarded both ears of his second bull, and walked twice around the ring as a blizzard of waving white handkerchiefs broke over the whole arena. Said one oldtimer. "The most extraordinary bullfight in Mexico." "I've never seen anything like it," said another...
...Madrid, Dominguin is most likely to be found of an evening at Lhardy's-an early igth century saloon near the old Puerta del Sol. Here, amid a collection of poets, newsmen, critics, painters, sculptors and bullfight purists, Luis Miguel holds court. From Lhardy's, the court is likely to move to a restaurant for dinner, then to a nightclub to sit until dawn, serious and silent, sipping Scotch & soda and watching the floor show fade. From time to time someone will say something sardonic and there will be quick smiles of agreement. It is like watching...
Last week, characteristically sparing no superlatives, Franklin published his autobiography* for armchair aficionados. And, characteristically, Franklin was far away from the literary tea set. He was in Spain making his debut as a teacher of young bullfighters, in the small (pop. 18,000) Andalusian city of Alcalá de Guadaira, eight miles from the famed bullfight center of Seville. Franklin had patched up the local bull ring, unused for 25 years, with $6,000 of his own money to provide an arena for his school...