Word: paunch
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Particularly so, fortunately, is Robert McEntire, the Tycoon. Mr. McEntire struts roguishly and confidently, smoothing his hands over his assumed paunch and twinkling devilishly at everybody as he enjoins them didactically to "Read Pepys' diary," "Read Marcus Aurelius," "Read Walt Whitman." So, too, the ever-capable Paul Barstow, now the Aristocrat, an ex-governor and F.O. man: he gestures with the monocle, is dismayed and contented both with proper peerish disdain...
...gross is confidently expected by company officials to jump this year from $65 million to $100 million, the profits to double to $6 a share. To help keep ahead of the imitators, the company last week put on sale a canned liquid Metrecal, which is easier for paunch-conscious businessmen to keep unrefrigerated in a desk drawer for their noonday meal...
...imposing paunch that leads Walter W. Fuller wherever he goes is a badge of long and dedicated service performed by a man who has eaten as much Kiwanis, Optimist, Lion, Eagle, Elk and DeMolay creamed peas and ham as anyone else in Detroit. Fuller belongs to all those societies and, thanks to honorary memberships, many more. But bald, indefatigably gregarious Walter Fuller, 60, is more than a mere joiner: he is also the fraternal editor of the Detroit News...
Easing his magnificent paunch along the rows of vintage yellow-oak desks in the second-floor news room, Roberts deposits his 218 Ibs. in the corner he has occupied off and on since 1928. But soon he is up again and leaning over the news desk. "Anything big?" he asks, a question he repeats before every edition. By early afternoon, the basement presses roll out a newspaper that in Cowgill, Humansville, Farmersville, Fair Play, Peculiar, Knob Noster, Kansas City, and several hundred other Missouri-Kansas communities is familiar, reassuring-and powerful...
...Britain's Stratford Memorial Theater by Cinemactor Charles (Mutiny on the Bounty) Laughton last week, King Lear was an eye-rolling, tongue-lolling, hand-scrabbling, dirty old man. Above a billowing green gown that looked like a collapsed circus tent (but still could not hide the hefty Laughton paunch), the famed suet-pudding face was almost obscured by a wild halo of home-grown white whiskers and an unkempt shoulder-length mane of home-grown white hair. For the Bard's buffs, the sight and sound of Lear as a whimpering, elderly brat, a Captain Bligh without backbone...