Word: manhattans
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...lounge at the Town Tennis Club on Manhattan's East Side was carefully arranged for the press conference. A long table held a portable public address system. The candidate's campaign brochures were stacked neatly. It was just one of thousands of such meetings between reporters and presidential candidates this year and next. But this one last week was different. The only reporter present was TIME National Political Correspondent John Stacks. His report...
...wood, and arrives at a break-even point of $110 a cord for wood-burners. Dry firewood sells for $80 to $90 in rural New England, for $90 in the Middle West, hovers between $150 and $200 near the big East Coast cities, and has climbed to $225 in Manhattan. (Artificial logs made of sawdust and paraffin, and sold at most supermarkets, can be dangerous if used in woodburning stoves, and are no great bargain at about $1.40 for a three-hour log.) Still, even half a cord of firewood stacked in a garage is a comforting source of emergency...
...late 1950s or '60s is likely to be an oil-thirsty white elephant, particularly the glass-box skyscrapers that sprouted in New York and other big cities. "Cheap oil made us very lazy," admits the illustrious Philip Johnson, 73, who with the equally illustrious Mies van der Rohe designed Manhattan's Seagram Building. Conceived by their creators as formal abstractions, such austere structures bore out the "less is more" precept in an unintended way: they used far more heating and cooling energy than the buildings they replaced. Now owners are scrambling to make skyscrapers more energy efficient with such devices...
...suggests that manual dexterity can suffer in temperatures of less than 68°. Does this mean that wool hats and mufflers will soon be de rigueur in the typing pool? Or fingerless gloves? "I'll bring in a space heater before I'll wear those," grumbles a Manhattan secretary.* But she will try thermal underwear beneath her baggy jeans...
...falls out of love with marriage and her husband. Divorce leaves her both miserable and sitting pretty. She is courted by a famous sculptor, a gifted writer and an admiring lawyer who takes her for idyllic sails on Long Island Sound. She has an apartment with a terrace on Manhattan's East Side and a woman who comes in to tidy it up. She can afford to jet to the coast to see her sculptor whenever the mood hits her. Her routine is the stuff of beauty-salon fantasies: "Twice a day I treat my face with Erno Laszlo...