Word: spartan
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...This spartan existence is as much a matter of temperament as necessity for Borg. Others may sacrifice a night on the town; Borg prefers to stay at home. "I have to sleep nine hours if I am going to feel good during a tournament," he explains. Borg gets his sleep. Recalls Arthur Ashe: "I saw Bjorn in Las Vegas and asked him if he'd had any luck at the tables. He couldn't understand why I want ed to talk about the furniture...
...anyone, especially young white filmmakers, to get too close. Viewers saw Count Basie's legendary reserve during an appearance on 60 Minutes last year. His laconic performance--"Drugs? You can't use drugs and play jazz. Maybe rock musicians can, but jazz musicians, never"--was a model of Spartan deportment. Ricker quickly learned that direct questions would yield direct answers--"yes," "no," or on occasion a poetic "uh-huh"? so the director applied a fail-safe formula of good friends, familiar surroundings, and free-flowing booze to create a relaxed, open, and totally upbeat encounter with these musicians...
Around Boeing's spartan hangar-like headquarters in Seattle, they call him the "old shoe," and Thornton Arnold ("T") Wilson, 59, certainly is that. Eight years ago, when he became chairman of the board, he did not bother moving out of his noisy office to more elegant surroundings down the hall. Each morning he sheds his suit jacket and conducts business in a navy blue sweater. When the temperature gets too cold, he can even be seen working in his hat and overcoat. And despite a yearly income in the million-dollar range, Wilson still lives in the same...
...Kennedy, but they don't have the good sides fleshed out in their minds--the fact that he is a good family man, he has a great sense of humor, a zest for life, a wide circle of friends." In contrast, Carter "has no sense of humor. He's Spartan, he has a contempt for politics, a narrow circle of friends," Orren said...
...dormitory he shares with officers of Robert Mugabe's ZANLA forces, somewhere in Salisbury, Masuku provided a personal account of one of Africa's bloodiest guerrilla wars and of his own commitment to ending it. McWhirter's report: It is a soldier's room, small, spartan, the single bed made up as tautly as if it were still awaiting the morning inspection. He is dressed in camouflage fatigues and parade-polished black boots with a small pistol tucked into a leather hip holster. For him, the long war began more than 16 years ago, when...