Word: journalists
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...JOURNAL. "Plumes for My Rich Aunt." British Journalist Alan Whicker describes the world of Paris haute couture as glamorized by models "who can wear furs in August, swimsuits in December . . . and look snooty and deadpan even with sand in their shoes" in this bizarre peek at the citadel of high fashion. Interviews with Designers Gerard Picard and Pierre Balmain...
...Americans who are now worth more than $1,000,000. But your income suggested a fortune of at least $100 million, which clearly ranked you in what I thought was our own small crowd. So I should have recognized your name. For all I knew, you were really some journalist "researching" one of those dreadful exposes' of the superrich, such as that new book by Ferdinand Lundberg, which my wife says is so old hat that she may demand her $10 back. On principle, of course...
Zhukov, 60, assured Europeans that they need not be scared by the "dire predictions" of French Journalist Jean-Jacques Servan-Schreiber that U.S. business may one day dominate the Continent's economy. "If all Europeans, that is you and we, pull together," he said, "we can soon be boss in our own house." Then he cracked: "The Americans, with their strange habit of liquidating their leaders, should turn to their own neighbors, Canada and Mexico, for cooperation...
Died. Edward Ainsworth, 66, author and regional journalist for the Los Angeles Times, whose gentle, low-key columns provided an antidote to the image of Southern California as a giant nut-burger stand; of a heart attack; in San Diego. As "the Boswell of the Boondocks," Ainsworth ambled through small-town California in search of such interesting minutiae as "the gargantuan battle over the bougainvillea, the rose and the iris," all candidates for small (pop. 25,000) La Puente's official flower. The hibiscus, a dark horse...
...Journalist Didion, 33, a former Vogue editor and now a Saturday Evening Post columnist, wrote these 20 essays and articles for a variety of magazines between 1961 and 1967. Most of the subject matter is conventional, perhaps even overworked. Yet it approaches art, not merely because Author Didion has an unforgetting reporter's ear, nor simply because she can hit human vagaries with the quick, poisonous aim of an aroused rattlesnake...