Word: luncheons
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...again, I wouldn't," said Joan Kennedy last year after she had earned a disapproving look from Pat Nixon by wearing a silver minidress to an evening White House reception. To demonstrate that she had learned her lesson well, Joan showed up last week at a White House luncheon for Mrs. Ferdinand Marcos, wife of Philippines President, in an unobtrusive little number: a silver leather Cardin midi with black lace-up boots and a stretch lace see-through blouse...
...stock issue, is perhaps 25% livelier reading than the Manhattan telephone book. One recent prospectus, however, is on the way to becoming a Wall Street bestseller, mostly because it convulses readers with often grim laughter. Brokers and other businessmen have been discussing it in board rooms and over luncheon tables; investment firms have ordered extra copies in quantity...
That there are votes up for grabs was confirmed two weeks ago by A.F.L.-C.I.O. President George Meany during his 76th birthday press luncheon. "Our people are looking less to the Democrats," he said, "because, actually, the Democratic Party has disintegrated-it is not the so-called liberal party that it was a few years ago. It almost has got to be the party of the extremists. More and more [they] are going to lose the support of our members." When a reporter asked if the man at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue knew that, too. Meany said emphatically: "You bet your...
A.F.L.-C.I.O. President George Meany, who has just turned 76, last week propounded an unexpected proposition at a celebratory steak-and-martini luncheon with a group of Washington newsmen. "We find more and more that strikes really don't settle a thing," said the titular head of the American labor movement. "Where you have a well-established industry and a well-established union, you're getting to the point where a strike doesn't make sense." By Meany's reckoning, the right formula in such circumstances is for both sides to submit all unresolved issues...
...rural Vermont's high summer, they gathered in Waitsfield for the "gala summer festival of the Poetry Society of Vermont, a read-aloud of poems written by members." The 43 poets and their guests paid $2.50 each for a cold roast-beef luncheon in a clover field on a 225-acre farm and then filed into the red barn for the readings. Most of the poets were middle-aged or more, and on the whole they celebrated a touching and suspended pastoral world savoring of a benign Frost. Some of the more modern verses, though, dealt with hippies...