Word: fraziers
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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When the Greater Boston Feminist Fair voted Boston Globe Columnist George Frazier "Worst Male Chauvinist Pig" for his comments on the women's movement and awarded him a muzzle, he had it bronzed and placed over his fireplace. After he made the White House "enemies list," having labeled Richard Nixon "a louse" and David Eisenhower "the creepy kid," Frazier observed the occasion typically. He donned a starched dickey shirt, planted a carnation in the buttonhole of his 30-year-old Brooks Brothers suit, and sauntered over to Locke-Ober's Café for his favorite finnan haddie dinner...
Equal Flair. Frazier need not have worried. Gentleman George is not only an ornamental Boston legend but a social commentator whose tart views reach an audience far beyond Boston. Besides writing four columns a week for the Globe, he discourses once a week on the CBS Morning News show and again on a local Boston TV program. At 62 he is one of the oldest writers to get an assignment from Rolling Stone. Most journalists his age have the years gentle their pace or prejudices. Frazier is as eager as ever to flay those he thinks pompous...
...targets are so inclusive-nearly all politicians and women's rights advocates, many fellow journalists and people who wear white socks-that he is doubtless on many enemies lists. Unlike most press scolds, who tend to ignore social trivia for headier political game, Frazier has anchored his reputation by roasting the large and the small with equal flair. He regularly assaults national institutions like Howard Cosell ("commits a public disturbance every time he opens his mouth"). But he also stalks such Main Street game as deer hunters ("revolting humanoids") and people who call up radio talk shows ("idiots...
Most of the columns are written in stream-of-consciousness style that leaps from notion to notion with scant regard for structure or logic, neither of which is a Frazier forte. Rather, his strength is an unerring eye for targets vulnerable to his wit, delivered in the bilious tones of an aggrieved headmaster. Once in a while he softens with memories of the good old days. He can sentimentalize at length about bar-hopping with Hemingway and Thurber, and pay tribute to Tim Costello, the late keeper of a Manhattan literary saloon, this way: "Without himself, who has been...
...shrewdly pyrotechnical, as usual, Frazier stolid but with a certain quiet wit. Asked just before the match how the $2.5 million purse makes him feel, he replies with ironic deliberation that "it gives me the inspiration to do a little more." The Fighters captures the skill and challenge of the sport, as well as its grand carnival spirit, as surely and lovingly as AJ. Liebling did in The Sweet Science. That is saying a great deal...