Word: codfishing
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Gart is as comfortable in Boston as a codfish cake. He was born there him self, but headed west to Kansas after graduating from Boston's Northeastern University. He became news editor of the Wichita Eagle, was a stringer cor respondent for TIME before going to full time in 1955 as Toronto bureau chief. In Toronto Gart got his intro duction to finance by covering the frenzied Toronto Stock Exchange and its volatile penny stocks. He also got his first market blooding (he lost $4.98). Back in his native Boston, Gart got a different view of finance...
...primitive setting of the Sierra Maestra, women ate dried codfish and roots, tried to cling to femininity and spent odd moments applying treasured nail polish or borrowing some peasant's iron to put a crease in their riding pants. In keeping with the rebel camp's notable strictness, born of the rebels' single-minded attention to the tasks of war, the women lived apart from...
...about it, the alliance had a sorry look last week. Its Eastern Mediterranean anchor was fouled by the Cyprus dispute, so that only a handful of Greek officers are back on duty at NATO's eastern headquarters in Izmir, Turkey. On the northwestern flank of the alliance, the "codfish war" between Britain and Iceland was hardly a war, but it was less than friendship...
Reveille is sounded before daybreak by transistor radios blasting out the morning news. At their irregular meals, the men eat rice or boiled starchy roots, dried codfish or bananas, sometimes boa constrictor or raccoon. They march, often dry and thirsty, through the hot midday. Castro moves along with them, joshing his men, examining their weapons, dressing-down laggards...
...away with bushels of bad jokes ("I was married, but now I'm estranged." "I'm a stranger here myself"), some broad-farce ribbing of stockbrokers ("I don't want to sell-might make the market nervous"), and a tycoon's diet of "caviar espresso, codfish benedict, vanilla mousse hollandaise," that prompted one hotel guest to remark, aptly: "I think he may be a Martian...