Word: dinners
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...describing Lindsay laughing over a column on "pseudo intellectuals," and then having him quote Dickens and Yeats was inspired. For those of us who have heard hizzoner try to articulate without a script, this new-found eloquence came as a real surprise. Add a wife who sounds the dinner bell in French, sherry for lunch, and a picture of our boy John in tails at the Met, and you have the ingredients for a clever burlesque of J.F.K. and Jackie...
...five-day state visit was clearly off to a bad start, even though penitent Turkish authorities promptly sacked the security chief and promised to send the forgetful official to some Turkish equivalent of Siberia. That night at dinner, President Cevdet Sunay gently reminded his guest that Turkey intended to remain a staunch member of NATO. Formerly, he said, Turkey had worked as hard as France for an East-West détente, but the occupation of Czechoslovakia had "unfortunately shown us that our optimism was too great...
Bare Feet and Bathrobe. When the Orchestre de Paris left last week for an American tour, the usual thing would have been for the U.S. ambassador and his wife to have the conductor and the concertmaster to dinner. Not the Shrivers: they asked all 110 members, from Conductor Charles Munch to the tym-panists, and included a batch of French music critics in the bargain. Shriver gulped down his dinner and table-hopped. His characteristic opener: "Very glad to have you here. What else do you think we should be doing...
Weary, ready for dinner and bed, Bill started to leave the field, only to find that he had one more trial to pass-the urine test. Checkups for dope are now mandatory in the Olympics, and for decathlon athletes the tests were given at the end of each day. Because he was totally dehydrated, Toomey had to hang around the stadium drinking liquids until he could supply officials with a urine sample...
...driving VW's, taking in a foreign movie now and again, speaking a bleached language and leading bleached lives. A dry-fuck life, Heimert would call it, if he weren't a shade too decorous to make a comment like that from any podium more public than a dinner table. His own style is so much more intense, robust, youthful, maybe in the way Falstaff's was and maybe in a more indestructible way that the fifties can only be a metaphor for his condition, not the cause...