In an exquisite 30-room penthouse on Park Avenue death came last week to Condé Nast. He was 68; an amiable host; as publisher of Vogue, House & Garden, et al., a superlative technician of the publishing world. For a generation he was the man from whom millions of American women got most of their ideas, directly or indirectly, about the desirable American standard of living.
The apartment in which he died was the perfect complement to his publishing business and an index to the variety of his taste. There he entertained the same people for whom he published Vogue. There to...
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