The black and grey Bentley snaked south out of Los Angeles along the Santa Ana Freeway, shook free of the traffic, and began to climb fast on a mountain road through the open country. At the wheel was a shapely brunette beauty—secretary, assistant and part-time chauffeur to the man in the back seat listening to Mantovani on a built-in stereophonic tape recorder. The car stopped on the mountaintop, where a friend was waiting; the man got out, a trim 6 feet with heavy-lidded blue eyes and an actor’s dash. The wind riffled his wavy, iron-grey hair as he gazed out over Irvine Ranch, the miles and miles of grazing land and citrus groves rolling down to the Pacific. (Time Magazine September 6, 1963)
WILLIAM PEREIRA: BOSS.
