Word: proprietor
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...customers are flocking to Ellman's restaurants in startling numbers. Orangerie serves about 5,200 meals a week, and an offshoot of Ellman's original Cattleman, the Cattleman West, which opened last February, is already serving 1,250 people a day. Those figures are immensely satisfying to Proprietor Ellman, a onetime student of accounting from Brooklyn whose big ambition in school was to become, in his words, "a tycoon." By putting the sizzle ahead of the steak, he is well...
...wrinkled village clerk explains why. "It was in 1947, right there," he says pointing. "Ioannis Ladas' mother tried to run across the street, carrying a baby nephew in her arms. Guerrillas shot her down, killed them both. She was a good woman." In Elaiohorion, Mayor and Cafe Proprietor Nikos Papathanasou, a distant cousin of Papadopoulos, was tortured by Communists, and so were three other men. The village doctor was killed by guerrillas and has never been replaced. Greece's foreign relations are now shaped by such intimate memories and private hatreds...
...months is a short time in which to master the intricacies of the Pentagon from inside, but Laird has made an energetic start. Since he lacks administrative experience, he fought hard to get as his deputy David Packard, the centimillionaire co-proprietor of a West Coast electronics firm that has had sizable defense contracts. While Laird has immersed himself in day-to-day Pentagon business in order to learn the nuts and bolts of the Defense Department, Packard has taken on the long-range tasks. He heads the studies on ABM, the aftermath of Pueblo's seizure, the defense...
Norman Dine, 60, the insomniac proprietor of a New Jersey store called the "Sleep Center," provides his clients with custom tape-recorded exhortations from their minister or psychiatrist. One nagged, "You hate to face reality because you think you don't measure up. It's absurd to dwell on something like this." Of course, many iron-willed morning veterans rely on nothing more complicated than putting the alarm clock across the room. But if that fails, for $384, Dine sells an ejecting bed. At the proper ungodly hour, it catapults its owner upright...
That scene, like something out of Inner Sanctum, is a newcomer's introduction to Manhattan's latest and most curious experiment in public entertainment-a theater without a stage show, a cabaret without food or liquor, a party without an occasion. To its proprietor, a 25-year-old former talent agent named Ruflfin Cooper, Cerebrum is "an electronic studio of participation." Others have called it a "psychedelic playpen" and a "McLuhan geisha house." However defined-and perhaps it can't be-Cerebrum is an experience...