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...opening on Christmas morning, Ford wore a new sweater that included in its Scandinavian design the acronym WIN. Sprawling comfortably in the living room beneath a decorated tree that stretched to the ceiling, Ford unwrapped a pair of brass book ends from his wife, and a sweater, a heavy wool shirt, a basket of cheeses, and sausages from his children. The President gave Betty a yellow quilted bathrobe. As the family opened their presents, Ford could see the ski slopes through a picture window, and later he got in a run or two before turning to the work that...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: WHITE HOUSE: At Play in the Dallas Alps | 1/6/1975 | See Source »

...finest pants available are still those army wind pants developed in some Army hinterland testing center. If you plan to hit the frequently wet northeast slopes, then the best bet for boots, is still the army mouse boot--Korean vintage--if you can still find a pair. Some itchy wool thermal underwear and a couple of wool sweaters still do the job better than most commercial products. Wool retains its warmth when wet--as anybody who has awakened to frozen cottom sweat-shirts can tell you. Over all this is once again an army product--the nylon poncho...

Author: By James Cramer, | Title: It's Cold in Them There Hills | 12/14/1974 | See Source »

...course, don't forget to buy that wool hat. Gerry's right when they warn that 50 per cent of your heat loss is from your head, and a hat is about as good a cap for a leaky head as can be found...

Author: By James Cramer, | Title: It's Cold in Them There Hills | 12/14/1974 | See Source »

Cole was also a student of the changing business structure of the United States. His books include "Fluctuation in American Business, 1790-1860," "The American Wool Manufacture," and "Wholesale Commodity Prices in the United States...

Author: By Steven M. Heller, | Title: Arthur Cole, Baker Librarian From 1932 to 1956, Dies at 84 | 11/15/1974 | See Source »

Difficult as those tasks may be, certain heretical aspects of the game as it is played in my ballpark today make historic diversion attractive. Even for a dyed-in-the-wool rooter, double-knit uniforms, artificial turf, and blazer-and-turtleneck bedizened umpires all need at least ten years aging before they might be countenanced on the diamond. It may be a century before products of the sandlots assimilate the Designated Hitter. Such gaudy perversions have me clinging to the Goldberg's Peanut Chews billboard which one adorned the left field wall in extinct Shibe Park's power alley. Still...

Author: By Philip Weiss, | Title: Home of the Brave, Play Ball! | 10/17/1974 | See Source »

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