Word: rawness
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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When it came to crunching into the stadium wall after a fly ball, sliding on a raw strawberry to bulldoze a double play, or just plain terrifying the opposition, Bauer was the man. His strength was the talk of the league: in a playful scuffle one day, he popped a friend on the chest-and sent him to the hospital with a broken rib. His base running was murderous: "When Hank came down that base path," shudders ex-Boston Shortstop Johnny Pesky, "the whole earth trembled." His will to win was awesome. "It's no fun playing...
...Berlin in the '30s, watching Sally Bowles salute the morning with raw eggs and gin, he smiled sadly, "I am a camera." There was no question of love or hate, of reaction; the sensitive recording device functioned, but the rest of the apparatus was missing. Years later in California, that boneyard for aging British intellectuals, Isherwood's camera still clicks away. Its subjects are less often street scenes than the landscapes of the mind, but the limiting flaw persists. The camera now surveys a middle-aged British homosexual, a professor of literature whose roommate has been killed...
...Antonio Suárez, 41, shares the Spanish concern with raw materials. Says he: "We've got to get our hands on it-the Spanish sensuality. We're sculptors in a way." When he feels that he is sketching too precisely, Suárez works with his left hand just to make it rougher. His work brutally flattens torsos and landscapes in a grotesque Goyagony that invites the eye to probe...
...that he's rundown. Each day Bobo gets a massive dose of vitamin E, swigs pure wheat-germ oil, eight raw egg yolks, a jigger of thiamine and a 20-mg. jolt of male hormones. Each day also brings more letters, aphrodisiac recipes and snide phone calls from citizens who don't like what Bobo is doing to their city's image. Many Seattleites volunteer remedies: "Send Fifi away on a separate vacation," wrote one woman. "It works for me every time. Bobo will love her when she comes back." A man who lives on Puget Sound...
...proceeded to build a seven-story pavilion with exposed, welded posts and beams. Nestled in a tree-rimmed ravine, where 100 water jets spout a car pet of spray over a lake (cooling the air-conditioning system), the raw-beamed facade flails the air like some forgotten, gargantuan reaper waiting for the Jolly Green Giant...