Word: fontainebleau
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Longhair Publicity. Joseph McGinniss, columnist of the Philadelphia Inquirer, pursued John Wayne from his "inspirational reading" at the convention to the Poodle Lounge at the Hotel Fontainebleau. In the boozy gloom, Wayne reviewed his speech. "What the hell did I say? I have no idea what the hell I said." Then he remembered a little. "Permissiveness is the biggest problem we have. The people in these colleges and these ghettos and these goddam longhair punks." And it's all the fault of the press, he said. "Nothing is ever any different from how it ever was except all these...
...only one of the girls had been pinched, legally. Said an aide to the Miami Beach police chief: "We have not had a single complaint, so their service must be satisfactory." Agnes Ash of Women's Wear Daily noted the plight of Ben Novack, owner of the Hotel Fontainebleau. "The Republicans aren't spending any money," he groused. "I'm not making a dime out of this convention." Outfitted in his "double-breasted blue flannel blazer, yachting cap and white duck pants," wrote Agnes Ash, "Novack continued to prowl the lobby, restlessly looking in vain...
...work progressed and costs spiraled, visitors drove daily from Fontainebleau to watch the construction. The young King became both irritated and suspicious. Where did Fouquet get all that money? He appointed his chief aide, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, to delve into the Finance Minister's books...
...service to the state. Renowned as a courtier, conversationalist and diplomat, he had devised dozens of ingenious schemes to finance France's war with Spain, and when he decided to build himself a château on a tract of land that he owned halfway between Paris and Fontainebleau, he spared no expense. He summoned Louis Le Vau, the leading architect of the day, Charles Le Brun, a painter and interior decorator, and a landscape designer named André Le Nôtre. A special workshop with Flemish artisans was set up nearby at Maincy to execute Le Brun...
...real sense, the Convention is actually what happens on TV and in the press rooms in the basement of the Fontainebleau Hotel, the butt of even more jokes than the Grand Old Party itself. For a convention is nothing more than groups of delegates making decisions state by state--perhaps after meeting with one or more of the hotel-hopping Presidential aspirants, but more likely way before arriving in Miami Beach. But it is only in the basement of the Fontainebleau that all these decisions are collated and sent out over the wires as comprehensive polls of the delegates. This...