Word: bread
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...1930s, the youngest of her three sons became ill with asthma. An admitted "nut on proper food for children," Mrs. Rudkin knew that asthma is an allergy, was nonetheless convinced that she could help her son by building him up. She dug out a whole-wheat-bread recipe left by her Irish grandmother, packed her baking pan with its old-fashioned ingredients-stone-milled flour (to save the vitamins lost in modern milling), honey, molasses, natural-sugar syrup, rich milk, cream and butter...
...fashioned." No one has better succeeded in transforming that folklore into fact than trim, green-eyed Margaret Rudkin, 62, founder and president of Pepperidge Farm Inc., the largest U.S. independent baking company. Maggie Rudkin-as she is styled in her company's homey TV ads-brought old-fashioned bread back to U.S. dinner tables in mass-production fashion, thereby baked her way into a $40-million-a-year business, which turns out 57 bakery products, employs 1,500 people in six plants. This week Mrs. Rudkin, a frequent guest lecturer at the Harvard Business School, is in France...
...first few loaves were as heavy as lead, but Maggie soon got the knack. The bread seemed to help Mark's health, and his allergist asked her to make some for other patients. Mrs. Rudkin began making batches in her kitchen with the help of a servant, then set up a small bakery in the farm's abandoned stable, added white bread made from unbleached flour for patients who could not take much roughage in their diet...
...rocked" by the urge to paint when he first saw the works of Brueghel, but he modeled himself on George Grosz with a dash of Salvador Dali. The walls of his Park Avenue apartment are lined with pictures that look like bad dreams. King switched to illustrating books for bread-and-butter money, then bolted to journalism, and after his LIFE stint became managing editor of Stage. "Then I really hit bottom," says King. "I started writing plays." None of them were notably successful...
...with any real people. Instead, there were constant spectacles in the 90° heat of midday, with giggling maidens flinging hibiscus and frangipani petals on the sweating Nikita; there were gargantuan meals, with endless courses of Indonesian and Dutch delicacies (to which Khrushchev always brought his own sour black bread), and nights filled with the tinkling music of gamelan orchestras...