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And there in a small island of space, sitting at a scarred old desk heaped with Rolodexes, vinyl 45s, crumpled trash and random novelty items, was the white-haired emperor of this extraordinary domain. When he said, “Fat people can’t come in here,” he was not stating a policy. He was describing a physical reality. Levinson and I were of average girth, but the only way we could fit through the aisle to Shively’s desk was to turn sideways and shuffle.
