EVEN in his seventies there are indications that Baruch's attraction for women--and theirs for him--is a constant source of worry to his entourage. He never made any bones about liking good-looking women, and, if a touch of glamour were added--for example, if the lady were a grand- opera singer or a famous actress--he would positively purr as he turned on the charm.
He is a fine-looking man, well over 6 feet, straight as the ramrod of his boyhood shotgun, with no trace of a bald spot in his well-kept white hair, not a pound of superfluous fat, and he radiates vigor, so that it is not surprising that his would-be protectors are on the alert.
Baruch not only likes the game that this attempt to protect him provides, but is flattered by it. Nor does he resent intimations that he has cream on his whiskers. It has seemed to some of his friends that he uses this protective ring just as he uses his deafness, as an occasional defense against boredom.
Incidentally, the one enthuiasm of Baruch that is not shared by his children, the love of politics and politicians, is another important bastion against designing females. Many a lady who thought she was making a conquest suddenly found herself almost forgotten when some senator turned Baruch's mind to economics or politics. Romeo would turn Polonius before the lady could mention her telephone number.