Word: overcoat
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...also a consummate actor -like his grandfather Faulkner, who strolled the Oxford town square in a white linen suit with an overcoat and a cap with ear muffs, or like his greatgrandfather, the Old Colonel, who wrote an early bestseller, The White Rose of Memphis, before he was gunned down by a neighbor suspicious of the colonel's intentions toward his wife. After he became "tired of a formal education" and quit school in the tenth grade, Bill decided to transform himself into a dandy; with the money he earned as a teller in his grandfather's bank...
Only Nature Counts. The kinship of his harlequin colors seems miraculous. Foliage flutters before the eye like scurrying butterflies. An overcoat lying on a chair takes on the bulk and presence of its wearer. A still life of skulls-piled more like strange fruit than memento mori-melts their contours into the curves of a parti-colored tablecloth in a haunting arabesque...
Like many of his literary predecessors, he ran away from school. The disguise he chose for his flight to Paris could hardly have been more bizarre. Modeled on that of a contemporary gas fitter, the costume consisted of a tall hat, long black overcoat, false mustache, a bag of bogus tools and a copy of The Gas World. But Paris looked at him with an indifference to match his own, and (less conspicuously dressed) he took off for points east with a donkey and a rather nutty companion who was a much more usual type of rebel, a romantic poseur...
When Hassan landed in Algiers last week, his reception was less than overwhelming. The Algerian honor guard wore sneakers for the arrival ceremony; Algeria's Defense Minister Houari Boumedienne, was in an unadorned civilian overcoat-no medals, no epaulets-and kept it on even at a state reception that evening. Though Hassan is about as interested in socialism as Louis XIV was, his hosts insisted on showing him one state farm and socialist work project after another. At the end of three days, Hassan wore a fixed smile that seemed cemented to his face...
...quiet afternoon at Checkpoint Charlie in West Berlin when suddenly a convoy of official cars raced up to the Wall from the Communist sector of the city. Out swarmed dozens of Russian security men around a familiar portly figure decked out in a black astrakhan cap and grey overcoat. It was Nikita Khrushchev all right, and he promptly proceeded to give one of his impromptu theatrical performances. Grinning broadly, he mugged for photographers, gaily waved a pudgy finger at the barbed wire and steel barrier, then ambled over for a chat with a busload of astonished Italian newsmen. Asking...