Word: blaringly
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...folksy side, the show has some agreeable music and peppy dancing, but nothing better; and as if Texas weren't big enough, it makes several fumbling forays across the state line into Oklahoma!. The show is actually best when it has a straight Broadway blare and stomp and when the cast, which could use more personal glamour, can show its professional savvy. Somehow Texas just can't find the right girl or gag in the pinches; it dawdles when it needs to spurt, and turns cheap when it ought to be charming...
Sittin' on the stones of Rome Make me wanna say I'm home People everywhere Stop and sit and stare Make my trumpet want to blare...
...beat and blare of the fervid little quintet seemed familiar and so did most of the names: Ingle, Estes, Williams, Bodtkin. But behind the trumpet, instead of the famous "Red" Ingle, Hollywood jazz fans saw a curly-haired youngster of 18-Ingle's son Don. At the traps, in place of "Ace" Estes, was Estes' skinny, long-nosed boy Gene, 18. They counted off the same way right around the stand. Last week, devoutly following in their fathers' solid-beat footsteps, the famous sons' five were the hottest band in Hollywood...
Bewildered Candidate. Every so often, between the jazz records, the loudspeaker would blare out a four-minute record: "This is Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr.... I appeal to you to vote for ... a brave mother of a brave son . . . Bob Coffey and I had a lot in common. We believed in progressive, democratic government . . . We were veterans together." Mrs. Curry Ethel Coffey, who used to work in the millinery department of Johnston's largest department store and had never been in politics before, was now travelling through the mined-out towns and hilly farmlands of the 26th Pennsylvania congressional district...
...Circle, in midtown, the dingy green loudspeaker, which used to blare out cacophonous versions of Strauss waltzes, has been silent for weeks. The shouting, arm-waving throng of money changers has dwindled to a few clusters. Only the silver dollar hawkers have kept up their professional spirits. They hang around street corners, clinking gleaming stacks of coins, their orthodox blue Chinese gowns topped by broad-brimmed brown fedoras that give them, from the neck up, that zooty air usually associated with Broadway characters in Li'l Abner. The price of their coins, like the price of everything else...