Word: californianism
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After finishing his set speech, the Californian deftly fielded a volley of questions from the floor. Did the candidate have any presidential ambitions? "It's taken me all my life," he allowed, "to get up the nerve to do what I'm doing-and that's as far as my dreams go." If, as many professionals predict, Reagan unseats Democratic Governor Pat Brown in November, his dreams-and the Creative Society-may go farther...
Because he felt that "it might be fun to operate a restaurant," a Californian named Al Lapin Jr. eight years ago quit a job in television and opened a Burbank restaurant that specialized in pancakes. Lapin's venture has been good for profits as well as pleasure. The single place has expanded into 152 pancake houses in 26 states, all under Lapin's International Industries, Inc., which last year grossed $30 million...
Father Y. Father. Bohemian Harold Painter is, in fact, a bright, creative Californian with a superficially rootless history: his parents were divorced during his infancy; he grew up in a foster home, joined the Navy at 17, later quit college to become a newspaper reporter in Alaska and the state of Washington. In 1957 Painter married a fellow Anchorage reporter, Jeanne Bannister, despite Jeanne's parents' disapproval, and the couple lived and wrote together happily in Pullman, Wash. One day in 1962, while Painter stayed home tending Mark, his wife drove their daughter to nursery school...
...Authors Waltz and Kaplan tell it Belli's next mistake was to assume that Judge Joe B. Brown would repress his own "passion for the limelight" and let the trial be moved out of Dallas-a false hope that spurred the Californian to insult scores of prospective Texas jurors by making repeated attacks on Dallas as a "city of shame...
...sense, the younger Californian artists show American art at its last frontier. They do not mind being "funky," that is, casual, deliberately corny, explorers of the American vernacular. In the ambiance of the gadget, the dragster with painted flames in its exhausts, the never-closed supermarket with motorized shopping cars, the West Coast artist has become his own deus ex machina. They are part-optimistic, part-spooky gardeners in a garish no man's land between art and reality. Like the man who built the Watts Towers, they might, when finished, just move away and never come back...