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...first, for hours and days at a time, sometimes in front of a camera. But that is not all. He tortured some of the girls-pliers on nipples, ice picks in ears-and tape-recorded the screams. But that is not all. The last victim was strangled with a coat hanger, her genitals mutilated and her body tossed on a lawn so that he could watch the horror of its discovery...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Death Penalty: An Eye for an Eye | 1/24/1983 | See Source »

...secretary, has gone bonkers said former Sen Gaylord Nelson (D-Wis.) and now chairman of the Wilderness Society "It's time the white coat people took him away...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Watt Says Environmentalists Have Objectives Like Nazis' | 1/21/1983 | See Source »

This is a glamour girl in the coyote fur coat, an American aristocrat, the goddaughter of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Cornelia Cochrane Churchill Guest, 19, the youngest child of a socially prominent family, grew up on Long Island and in Palm Beach and New York City. She spent 1982 as a debutante, and all year long the New York gossip journalists mentioned her in print, often dusting off a quaint epithet: deb of the year. "I don't get tired of it," she says, having finished her eggs and her Tab and three more cigarettes cadged from...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In New York: A Deb Sings at Xenon | 1/10/1983 | See Source »

...sensual suffocation of these grand clothes was modified and ventilated for outdoor wear. The looseness of a mohair duster, the easy lines of a woman's blueserge bicycle suit, even a white wool polo coat from Brooks Brothers, all prefigure a less restrictive notion of sophistication. The summer whites of Newport are as dazzling to a contemporary eye as a violet satin costume brocaded in gold and silver, supposedly worn by Sarah Bernhardt...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: Puttin' on the Ritz in Gotham | 1/10/1983 | See Source »

...Rubinstein onstage was to witness a master in his element. Striding purposefully to the keyboard while acknowledging the welcoming cheers, he would sit down, adjust the tails of his formal coat, tilt his face upward at about a 45° angle and stare intently into the middle distance as he composed himself. Then the great hands would rise from his sides and come down on the keyboard. The piano, with its intricate mechanism of strings and hammers, would cease to be a percussion instrument when Rubinstein caressed it; in his hands, it sang...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: A Song to Remember | 1/3/1983 | See Source »

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