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Returning to Harvard as as sophomore, Sanderson decided to become a doctor and worked nights as an orderly in the emergency ward of the Peter Bent Brigham Hospital...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Hingham Plane Crash Kills Harvard Junior; Power Loss Blamed | 12/16/1963 | See Source »

Drabness & Squalor. Shostakovich pronounced himself pleased with the London production, which had an English libretto written last summer by Conductor Edward Downes. He sat by Downes's side through days of rehearsal, apparently bent on tempering every hint of crudity. "He has a puritanical obsession about showing sexualism onstage," said Downes. "Anything that was the least bit suggestive he jumped on immediately...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Opera: Maturing in Moscow | 12/13/1963 | See Source »

...Abandoned ideals and buoyancies can be seen within. And when he turns on the times, his bite is bitter: "Give us a bit more comfort! That's our battle cry now. All the ingenuity of men, which was harnessed for so long to nobility and beauty, is now bent on finding something a bit softer to put under their bottoms. Contraptions to make our drinks cooler, our houses warmer, our beds softer. It's disgusting...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Playwrights: Cynicism Uncongealed | 12/13/1963 | See Source »

...grandly announces. "He really painted what eees there. But today's Pop art is too romantic." By this Dali means that everyday objects painted literally are not worth the adoration poured into them by U.S. Pop artists. When Dali painted his famous limp watches they were, at least, bent by 90 degrees-and thus, to his eye, "symbols of memory slipping down the throat...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: Dilly Dali | 12/6/1963 | See Source »

...driver cried: "Let's get out of here quick!" He automatically pulled out of the motorcade-the set procedure in emergencies. The Secret Service agent next to him grabbed the radio telephone, called ahead to the police escorts, and ordered them to make for the nearest hospital. Jackie bent low, cradling the President's head in her lap, and the Lincoln bolted ahead as if the shots themselves had gunned the engine into life. Spurting to 70 m.p.h., it fled down the highway, rounding curves on two wheels. A Secret Service man, who had jumped onto the rear...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Nation: The Assassination | 11/29/1963 | See Source »

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