Word: furred
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...docile, about half black and half white, a group of refugees with the common bond of having been bombed out of a job. They are a mixture of "good ole boys" with beer bellies bulging over the belts of their double-knit slacks, trim women in stylish pantsuits and fur jackets, and young managers and technicians in three-button, charcoal gray suits. The newcomers, skittish and self-conscious at first, soon relax as they sense that they are not alone. Hardly anyone reads to kill time. Conversation is minimal and muted. Children accompanying their parents are subdued. Veteran standers...
...young artist from California. His name is Chris Burden, and though he is only 29, many consider him a sadhu. It is at the Ronald Feldman Gallery, a known place of refuge for distinguished fakirs like Joseph Bueys, who, unlike our own sadhus in India, wears a magnificent fur coat and chants mantras about "revolution" in order to expunge his sorrow for having flown a German airplane 30 years ago. Burden, on the other hand, would appear a familiar figure to us. He is a body artist. He believes in transcending the entanglements of maya by mortifying his flesh...
...runner on Wall Street and then in the garment industry. Until several years after his marriage at 22 to Sara Perelmuth, the sister of Tenor Jan Peerce, he had never seen a Met performance. Inspired by the example of his prominent inlaw, Tucker, who was then a fur coat-lining salesman and cantor, began studying with Wagnerian Tenor Paul Althouse. According to Althouse, "Tucker just came for his lesson, took off his hat, sang, put his hat on again and went." Tucker was permanent cantor at the Brooklyn Jewish Center when he auditioned for the Met in 1944. The next...
...What are you, some sort of eco-freak," broke in an incensed middle-aged man sporting a highball and a fur coat of his own. "Fur is warm. If it gets scarce, the market will raise the price to reduce the demand for it. Nobody's going to kill off all your damn wolves...
...blooded rich American. The economy couldn't be that bad, look at all the happy people, look at all the cars filled with gasoline, look at the ten-dollar bills being slapped down by the thousands for a couple of rides up a mountain, look at the fur and the snazzy outfits. After all this time, here was an American president who could get out among the American people, find out what they were doing and what they thought...