Word: birching
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Charles Arthur Birch-Field, who is no crackpot, last month advertised that from ordinary black & white pictures on photographic film he could get the colors of the original scenes. Greying, Ohio-born Charles Arthur Birch-Field is a successful Manhattan artist, retired head of a large advertising agency (BirchField & Co.), trained at the Cleveland School of Art,* son of a scientist and Westinghouse partner. Last week he demonstrated his fabulous-sounding infant process...
...photographic film that is printed as a positive, no matter how old, can be put into any projector that is fitted with a Birch-Field "iriscope," can then be projected on a screen to show the scene's original tints, somewhat faint but true. Though few except Birch-Field had suspected it, the colors had been registered in the structure of the film since its first exposure. The iriscope is a simple transparent disk that fits over the projector's lens and is dyed with the colors of the spectrum in concentric circles from blue on the inside...
...Institution Vindicated. In Minneapolis, Mrs. Robert I. Birch got her husband acquitted on a charge of driving past a stop sign by telling the judge she always drove from the back seat and would certainly never let him do such a thing...
...Down chairs are as comfortable as anything Grandfather lounged in. He has emphasized one branch of functionalism a lot of modern furniture designers forget about: the buyer's pocketbook. More stylish than Cooper's furniture, Designer Coggeshall's is built with handsome but inexpensive fir or birch. Like Cooper's, his chairs and tables easily demount to fit into neat packages. A Coggeshall dining table costs $12.50; coffee table, $3.50; chair, from $2.50 to $5. Coggeshall's proudest achievement: a $3.50 table, cut from a single piece of plywood. It stands without benefit of nails...
...elegant greystone Embassy on Washington's 16th Street, Russian Ambassador Maxim Maximovich Litvinoff (pronounced Lit-VEEN-off) heard the seconds tick. Watching the dogwood bloom on the lawn, he could picture the Russian spring: no Russian, however far from his homeland, can forget the feathery pastels of white birch and oak, the woods alive with the calls of the zhavornok and the drozd, the heady smell of mushrooms and flowers sprouting in soil musty-damp from the winter's snow...