There are other curious similarities between the two men. Both are genuine individuals in an industry whose top executives often seem to have been born at Groton and bred at Yale. Both seem to have some mysterious umbilical relation to popular taste — the so-called
MONTGOMERY, Ala. — Winding the car along neighborhood streets, I watched the old, two-story white homes glide past. This had all the earmarks of a vintage city smack in the vitals of the deep South. There was some comfort in realizing we were back in
HOT SPRINGS, Ark. — The drab exterior of Martin’s Recreation Center and Cafe isn’t much different than the inside, a 60-year-old brick building sandwiched between clothing and shoe shops along Central Avenue downtown. Those who don’t put much store in appearances venture behind the door
BARSTOW, Ca. — Motoring free from the nerve-tattering traffic of Los Angeles, we soon found ourselves keeping company with an ocean of sand, cactus and tumble weeds that raced each other across the desert swells. For seemingly endless miles the Lady K carried us toward
Sioux City, Iowa — Kathy and I sat staring blankly down the gleaming corridor. Mingled aromas of antiseptic, disinfectant and the smell of just plain hospital engulfed our nostrils. Everywhere were men and women in white garb shuffling to and from rooms. The activity and
