Word: trippers
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Early arrivals found that April in Paris was still wonderful. The chestnuts were in bloom, and so was the night life in the tripper traps of old Montmartre. The landscape painters were busy by day on the Seine bridges, and Josephine Baker, the oft-warmed-over toast of gay Paree, was going through 32 costume changes a night at the Folies Bergeres. The grande saison de Paris would offer 150 spectacles, from colored lighting displays of the Versailles fountains to an amateur night for drink-mixers at the Hotel Continental. France was also pleased to announce that even the trains...
...Trippes weekend at an eight-room French Provincial-style house in a patch of woods near Greenwich, Conn., hard by the Round Hill Club where "Tripper," as some golf partners call him, plays up to 36 holes a day, usually shooting in the low 80s. In the summers the Trippes take their 16-year-old daughter, Betty, and three young sons, Charles, John and Edward, to a rambling, grey-shingled house on the ocean's edge at East Hampton, L.I., where Trippe likes to swim and surffish with the boys, exercising hard to work off tension. In winter...
...Millionaires. France's new free currency rate (305 francs to the dollar) made traveling low-priced. Knickknacks-handbags, scarves, blouses and lingerie-were cheaper than in the U.S. And in Paris, as one tripper sighed ecstatically: "There seems to be an abundance of almost everything"-even if some things sold at inflationary prices. For night life, there were grubby clubs on Montmartre, dancers at the Bal Tabarin and undressed showgirls at the Folies-Berg...
...Europe they will find things somewhat better. But not enough to pay for the trouble of going all the way around the world. What is the lure? One prewar tripper put it this way: "First, the fun of spending money. . . . Then there is the incontrovertible fact, proved by postcards, snapshots, movie reels and the labels on their baggage, that [the globe-girdlers] have actually circumnavigated the globe. . . . Then they get four months of bridge, of comparing notes, prices and scandal with new friends delightfully like themselves, a lot of good ozone, offset by more or less continuous indigestion from rich...
Earl Browder, new U.S. representative for Soviet publishers, flew in from Moscow, like any bourgeois tripper, with presents for the Mrs.: a bottle of perfume and four Russian dolls. At the airport reporters fell on him. Had he seen Molotov? Yes. Had he seen Stalin...