Word: pillbox
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...them: Marisa Berenson, Carol Charming, Mrs. Gianni Agnelli, Mrs. Vincent Astor, Lauren Bacall, Raquel Welch, Ali MacGraw, Mrs. William Mc-Cormick Blair Jr., Mrs. Charles Revson, Liza Minnelli, Lee Radziwill and her sister Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, who, at her first husband's inauguration, wore a Halston's pillbox hat-backward. Despite Jackie's mistake, the hat became a rage and helped make Halston famous...
Late Sunday night, Gonzalez's band of rebels attacked the 18th century palace. They overwhelmed the 34 members of the palace guard, who wear gold-trimmed blue coats, white breeches and tasseled pillbox hats and are meant mostly for display. Ignoring all the basic rules for carrying out a coup, Gonzalez neglected to close down Quito's airport and take over its radio stations−one of which refused to broadcast his manifesto on the ground that it sounded unbelievable. He also generously allowed Rodriguez's wife and children to leave the palace, thereby giving away...
Only an aquiline nose and a pair of scuffy cheeks peeked out from behind the purdah of colored glasses, gray muffler, and hotel towel anchored Arab-style by a pillbox chapeau. But the imperious stare, the twitching extremities and the spindly silhouette of Bob Dylan, 32, belied the Bedouin disguise. The erstwhile revolutionary folkie, rock-'n 'roll innovator and countrified cop-out was back after an eight-year absence from concert touring. Perched atop a hotel couch in Philadelphia (the second of 21 cities in his current six-week tour), Dylan was solidly re-ensconced as the reigning...
...offshore wind, whipping against a coastal pillbox, brings the distant voice of a woman. Her words are lost. Only the rise and fall of her singsong voice, propelled by a powerful loudspeaker, is faintly audible. But the soldiers manning the pillbox know her message by heart. In the name of Chairman Mao, she is beckoning them to the mainland, just 1 ½ miles away...
Farther up, past buried land mines and anti-tank posts of corroding concrete, up in a pillbox covered with netting and sod, halfway up the cliff, young Dr. Bleagh and his nurse Ivy are relaxing after a difficult lobotomy. His scrubbed and routinized fingers dart beneath her suspender straps, pull outward, release in a sudden great smack and ho-ho-ho from Bleagh as she jumps and laughs too, trying not too hard to squirm away. They lie on a bed of faded old nautical charts, maintenance manuals, burst sandbags and spilled sand, burned matchsticks, and unraveled corktips from cigarettes...