Word: gins
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...drink, and at the Bunkers', where a pool party is going on, he gets another. "Oh, how bonny and lush were the banks of the Lucinda River! Prosperous men and women gathered by the sapphire-colored waters, while caterers' men in white coats passed them cold gin...
...away," sighed a Yankee player last week, "or there wouldn't be any pennant race at all." Drafted by the Angels in 1961, Chance won 27 games and lost 28 over the next two seasons, picked up a reputation as a slicker at snooker and gin, hit the gossip columns regularly by palling around with Playboy Pitcher Bo Belinsky. Last spring Chance announced that he was "a settled-down fellow," told the Angels he wanted a raise to $18,000. There was some small argument, but he won; the Angels even sweetened the pie by another $7,000 last...
Valentine's Day, for example, is a house of cards about a young bachelor publisher who likes a white fuzzy drink called Cotton Gin and keeps a portable fireplug in his Jaguar XKE to help create parking spaces. Last week he was publishing a book called The Fraudulent Female, which claimed that women criminally exaggerate the burden of housework. To prove its thesis to a potentially dangerous female critic, he went off with her for a weekend on Staten Island, where he did all the chores for a family of five. Impossible as it may seem, the show...
...S.R.O. draw at Convention Hall. The Steel Pier featured Mickey Rooney, Milton Berle and The Diving Horse. And over at the Globe Theater, the management proudly presented "Her Sexcellency" Sally Rand in Person. To the surprise of those who thought Strip per Sally had gone out with bathtub gin, she seemed to have changed hardly at all. For that matter, Atlantic City hadn't either...
...Berlin in the '30s, watching Sally Bowles salute the morning with raw eggs and gin, he smiled sadly, "I am a camera." There was no question of love or hate, of reaction; the sensitive recording device functioned, but the rest of the apparatus was missing. Years later in California, that boneyard for aging British intellectuals, Isherwood's camera still clicks away. Its subjects are less often street scenes than the landscapes of the mind, but the limiting flaw persists. The camera now surveys a middle-aged British homosexual, a professor of literature whose roommate has been killed...