Word: algonquin
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...door. Another classmate, Richard L. Simon, had been working for the distinguished publishing firm of Boni & Liveright, and now he was planning to start his own house with Max Schuster. When Cerf showed interest in replacing him, Simon arranged for Cerf to meet Horace Liveright for lunch at the Algonquin Hotel, Scotch-and-watering place for the famous authors and wits of the day. "There," he says, "were Robert Sherwood, George S. Kaufman, Marc Connelly, Dorothy Parker-all of them! Sitting at the Round Table! I was delirious! In the middle of the lunch, I called Wall Street and told...
Died. Margaret Case Harriman, 61, author, who grew up in Manhattan's Hotel Algonquin (her father owned it), became a sort of midtown Malory by chronicling in The Vicious Circle and Blessed Are the Debonair the activities of the 1920s' Algonquin Round Table (a luncheon gathering of such literary jesters as Alexander Woollcott, Robert Benchley, George S. Kaufman), also contributed articles to Vanity Fair and a series of notable theatrical profiles to The New Yorker; after a long illness; in Manhattan...
...natural beauty; the great Karl Baedeker called its vistas "grander and more inspiring" than the Rhine's. Nor has any other American stream earned so rich a place in the nation's history, art and folklore. Yet the Shatemuc, "the water that flows both ways," as the Algonquin Indians called it, today is the most wantonly abused river in the U.S., its banks in many places a riparian slum, its waters a running sewer...
...doctor, playwright (Idiot's Delight, Abe Lincoln in Illinois, There Shall Be No Night) and speechwriter to President Roosevelt. In this effusive biography, Critic John Mason Brown leans heavily on the lighter side. The reader hears all about Sherwood's sensational buck and wing, his low-keyed Algonquin witticisms, his red-eyed passion for high-stakes poker, model airplanes, and croquet in Central Park at $10 a wicket. Unhappily, Biographer Brown requires 386 pages to take his subject from 1896 to 1939; and there he stops, just as Sherwood's most interesting years are about to begin...
...Moaning and grunting like tortured hogs in some gloomy and obscene den, and thrown into ecstasies by the frantic cavortings, whoopings and gurglings of dim-witted adolescents more akin to 17th century Algonquin Indians than to the founders of this great Republic, devotees of rock 'n' roll music prove conclusively that Homo neanderthalensis is still with us. If politicians in Washington go for it, then assuredly Spengler was right...