Word: 20s
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...high school when King Tut [May 2] came around for the first time. In the early '20s, you could buy shoulder-length earrings, imitation scarabs in rings, pins, paperweights, and other things ad infinitum in the five and dime. Anyone who was anyone in the younger set sported heavy eye makeup, Egyptian bracelets, God knows what, all stemming from the discovery of King Tut's tomb...
...this fragment of an autobiography, written in the early 1940s but withheld from publication until now, Wright tells of his tumultuous, troubled early manhood. In his 20s he left the South for Chicago, where he found relief from the physical brutality of Mississippi. But he was introduced to subtler forms of intimidation. If the whites no longer kicked him, they inevitably stepped on the spot that Wright was mopping in the hospital laboratory and tracked the dirty water around. "If I ever really hotly hated unthinking whites," he recalls, "it was then. Not once during my entire stay...
...promote a new age of aviation technology in which men and women would be increasingly absorbed into teams, into bureaucracies. Lindbergh rode the Spirit of St. Louis on the updrafts of the future, but in many ways he was one of the last individualists. Even in the '20s, he represented a kind of nostalgia. In an era of Teapot Dome and bathtub gin, he seemed to Americans a cleaner, sharper version of themselves, as bright as a new silver dollar, still inventive and vigorous. If, as Historian Frederick Jackson Turner said, the U.S. ran out of frontier...
...literary Dow Jones so often that his pants are shiny from the ride, while Rudyard Kipling, who won the Nobel Prize for beating the drums of imperialism, is read these days-if he is read at all-almost exclusively by children. Sinclair Lewis, the great name of the '20s-and the first American to win the Nobel for literature-is noticed only by spiders on library shelves, and John Dos Passos, who dominated the '30s, is all but forgotten in the '70s. In good times and bad, however, there is at least one sure bet: Trollope, Trollope...
Eugene O'Neill is a prime example of the roller-coaster ride of reputation. After his popular vogue in the '20s he went into two decades of neglect. Restored to critical approval and public favor in the mid-'50s, he began to mount an Everest of esteem which most of his plays cannot remotely scale. What is wrong with Anna Christie? Just about everything. With the daintiness of a dinosaur, the play, first produced in 1921, wallows in the goo of sentimentality, quavers with the palsy of moral priggishness, and resolves itself in a bogus happy ending...