Word: blonds
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...frequently reprinted picture taken of Auden about thirty years ago shows a young man with a sharp face, his blond hair flopping in his eyes, a hand raised to light the cigarette pressed between his lips. Thirty years ago, Auden was the leader of the "Auden generation" -a group of young poets that included Stephen Spender, Christopher Isherwood, and C. Day Lewis. He was young then, as he followed the revolutions in Spain and China, and his reputation and influence grew rapidly. Today, as he shuttles annually from homosexual domesticity in the Austrian village of Kirschteten to an East Village...
Died. Conrad Nagel, 72, veteran of Hollywood and Broadway; of a heart attack; in Manhattan. After making his debut on Broadway in 1918's Forever After, the handsome blond actor rose to stardom in the silent days, appearing in more than 150 films (Little Women, The Jazz Singer) between 1919 and 1932. His resonant baritone was perfect for talkies, and he continued to star in films while scoring Broadway hits in 1943's The Skin of Our Teeth and 1948's Goodbye, My Fancy...
What is most irritating about Schaap's style is his blatant pandering to a narrow audience. One chapter entiled, "I Like My Girls Blond and My Johnnie Walker Red," is devoted to Namath, the stud, and one can just imagine the segment of America that fancies itself he-man. Schlitz-drinking, duck-shooting and hard-loving smugly saying, "Yeah, goddamn, Namath's one of US, Fcrissake...
Until recently Actor Donald Sutherland was the kind of person who got overlooked at cocktail parties. The face was familiar, but then hundreds of guys are tall (6 ft. 4 in.) and skinny (185 lbs.), with blond hair, blue eyes, belled teeth, slightly bowed ears, and a resemblance to a tall pencil or a short television tower. Meanwhile, in one film after another for the past two years, Sutherland has been filling the screen with a low-key presence that has left critics grasping for adjectives and audiences grasping for his name. All that is changing, however...
...thumbs at the cars approaching the border station. A VW bus that had been converted into a surf-woodie picked us up after a half-hour wait. We climbed into the back, pulled the curtains, and stiffened up among the surfboards. The driver and his passenger, healthy blond sun-god types, smiled at the American and Mexican guards as they drove past...