Word: greenwich
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...boom strong enough to pay the rent on some of the city's most expensive real estate. As restrictions have relaxed, the pornography market has become more explicit and more selective. The owner of one of the street's nameless bookstores (titles and literary allusions are for Greenwich Village) observes that two years ago customers paid little attention to the aesthetic quality of models. Now a Playmate standard has begun to assert itself in exotic literature. Most of the customers are men, with the big rush arriving just after business hours when homeward-bound commuters and tourists beginning...
...American Express Co. and son of James A. Linen, Chairman of the Executive Committee of Time Inc.; and Leila Haven Jones, 27, an editorial researcher at Reader's Digest and daughter of Gilbert E. Jones, board chairman of the IBM World Trade Corp.; in an Episcopal ceremony in Greenwich, Conn...
...says. Curiously, both he and Barbra still cling, however tenuously, to each other and to their 31-year-old son Jason. They have not yet filed for divorce. "That technicality," Elliott says mysteriously, "can evoke a great many inhibitions." It does not inhibit him, though, from camping in his Greenwich Village town house with a quietly attentive 18-year-old girl who has no show business aspirations...
...this takes a certain kind of detachment?a detachment Gould maintains by living and working as much as he can on home territory in Manhattan. His street in Greenwich Village gives him "a nice sense of neighborhood." He leases two floors of a house that is large, respectably old and fairly bursting with the kind of tchotchkies that he and Barbra used to collect?a United Cigar plaque in the downstairs hall, for instance, and a Breyer's Ice Cream sign that hangs in the doorway. The living room contains a Correct Weight penny scale (still functional), a large wall...
...Downey does evidence some glimmer of talent. His settings have the blinding, sun-washed aspects of Marat Sade. His mad, scatological songs could have been copied from the walls of Greenwich Village urinals; they are funny nonetheless. And in one scene there is authentic wit. A prisoner in black tie and dinner jacket (Harry Rigby) gazes at the dogs and whines: "What am I doing here? I'm a penguin." As he dies, his final dream is of a formal party complete with glacial ice cubes and attended by the great auk of Manhattan nightlife, Julius Monk...