Word: anyways
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...down by the newsmen I met--cigars, paunches--a surly bunch. They sneered, guffawed, and went back to crank out their stories with information they didn't take seriously anyway. One of the accredited freelancers I met was from the Dartmouth student paper. Complete with work shift, a bit of a beard and steel-rimmed glasses, he seemed decidedly unmilitary and way out of his element. But he had considerable success in selling enough material to support himself in Saigon. He first broke even with the sale of a story and pictures to Parade Magazine about the mortaring incident...
...Weekend" (Kingsmen), we nevertheless will try to "return to those thrilling days of yesteryear" (William Tell Overture), and come up with another Crimson quiz on "Those Oldies But Goodies" (Little Caesar & Romans). "I Got a Feeling." (Ricky Nelson) that memories "Maybe" (Chantels) growing short, and present freshmen, anyway, are "So Young" (Students), so we're added a lot of trash to the official "Big Beat" (Fats Domino) "Field of Concentration" (Dean Watson). Answers can be submitted to the Crimson building by "Tomorrow" (Shirelles), but "Don't" (Elvis) look for "Money" (Barret Strong) or any prize beyond "Publicity" (Loyd Price). "Sincerely...
...with gracefully masculine gestures. "I can feel the audience through my back as if I were facing them," he says, and he is the first to admit that some of his gyrations are for the audience's benefit. "For a cymbal crash, the player will come in anyway, but if I give a big gesture, it just adds to the high point. Or in the development section of Beethoven's Eroica symphony, I'm not sure the audience is hearing everything-the different modulations, the canonic effects. I point to the orchestra...
...novelist's job. In his second book, Don Carpenter (Hard Rain Falling) takes on two such men and manages to turn them into believable antagonists. The first is Semple, a near-idiot high school boy. Words have little meaning for him; he misreads reality and then forgets it anyway. His attempts at speech are usually glottal grunts. His writing is chicken tracks. There is only one coherent current in his life: his destructive fascination with Harold Hunt, "the ringleader of the hard gang" at school...
Success of a sort came anyway. As a fellowship winner, Podhoretz attended Clare College at Cambridge University, had a piece of criticism published in F. R. Leavis' formidable literary organ, Scrutiny, and was immediately initiated into a privileged class. Although he knew by then that he would never be a poet, he was flattered to be "magically transformed overnight from a Brooklyn 'barbarian' into 'one of the young gentlemen from America...