Word: vesting
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...vast, white marble suite of offices above Manhattan's Fifth Avenue, Boesky stands behind his desk and punches buttons on a 300-line telephone console as he studies flickering stock-market figures on a battery of video screens. Almost always clad in a dark three-piece suit, with the vest adorned by a gold watch chain, he continuously slurps coffee and information, the two fuels he seems to crave most...
...about hostages were arranged by a tiny group of NSC staffers led by Oliver North and known as the "cowboys." Says a Government source who was ) clued in on their operations very late: "This thing was run out of the West Wing (of the White House). It was a vest-pocket, high-risk business." Whether the motive for the arms-shipments policy was to gain U.S. influence in Iran's power struggles or to win freedom for hostages in Lebanon, officials could hope for success. Last month Mehdi Hashemi, a hard-line Iranian official, was arrested in Tehran and charged...
...embellishing it. An argument ensues. "In your dreams," someone says. They laugh. The bar door opens. A big, shambling man with a droopy mustache enters with the tender-kneed, left-right stride of a man who's fallen off too many broncos. He is wearing a goose-down vest, a snap-button shirt, jeans and pointy-toed cowboy boots, all of which look out of place in this working man's, New England bar. One of the men at the bar glances over his shoulder. He elbows another. Then another. Soon all the men at the bar are glancing over...
With a down-home story on his lips, a hand on someone's elbow and a deal in his vest pocket, Russell Long almost always got what he wanted during his 38 years in the Senate. The agile, garrulous Senator from Louisiana and longtime chairman of the powerful Finance Committee was the ultimate Senate insider who followed his own Golden Rule of politics: Do unto me, and I will do unto you. What Long usually wanted was quite specific: something for the state of Louisiana...
...tuxedo almost got kicked out of Gilpatric's set. Griswold Lorillard -- scion, as social columnists would put it, of the tobacco Lorillards -- showed up in the rarefied regions of the country club at Tuxedo Park, N.Y., wearing a red waistcoat with his best bib and tucker. The incendiary vest was bad enough, but what really stirred up the swells was the inescapable fact that Griswold's tails did not have any. The tailcoat was cut even and short, like a suit jacket. Scion or not, Griswold almost got the bounce, until cooler heads and appraising eyes took over...