Word: austrian
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...three stories in the issue, the best is definitely Denis Fodor's "Herr Zipfl's Revolt," a tale of the Bemelmans type but infinitely less genial: Herr Zipfl is the Burgermeister of a Russian-controlled Austrian town. Behind a mask of craven geniality, he is rather resentful of the fact that the Russian military is more interested (justifiably, I think) in his dog, than in him. The plot, the ideas, and the characters of "Herr Zipfl's Revolt" emerge quite naturally and aimply from the relentless simplicity of Mr. Fodor's style...
...summoned the entire population (about 2,000) to the main square. The men were led away and machine-gunned. Under the heaps of dead, eleven survived. The women & children were locked in a schoolhouse which, along with the rest of Kalavryta, was put to the torch. A horror-stricken Austrian soldier unbolted the schoolhouse door and some women escaped...
...with a deep moral sense, he is outraged by man's inhumanity to man. The worst tantrum he ever threw was on the day of the Austrian Anschluss. He tried to rehearse, but left the podium after the first minute. He didn't stop raging until he had almost kicked a massive table to pieces, pulled all his scores from their shelves, nearly wrecked his dressing room. Then he sat down and cried...
...Champion. He was, in some ways, a strange champion. He was 67, and in frail health. He was born the son of a petty Austrian official and a subject of His Apostolic Majesty, Francis Joseph (his birthplace near Trento belonged to Austria until after World War I). He had been active in the Italian nationalism movement as a student at the University of Innsbruck. But he was a rambling speaker and a rambling organizer, and he had a lifelong reputation as a compromiser...
Kupferman himself is no scientist. The son of an Austrian cigarmaker, he put himself through art school by soda-jerking in Boston's North Station, and graduated to become a guard in the Boston Museum (which now owns several of his works). Kupferman drinks coffee by the potful in order to keep painting far into the night. He spends his days teaching and banging the brasses for modern art. "I used to be an introvert," he confesses, "but now I even talk to people on streetcars...