Word: bohemianism
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Died. Eugene Higgins, 83, American painter and etcher, artistic descendant of France's 19th century Romantic Jean Francois Millet; after long illness; in Manhattan. Missouri-born Gene Higgins put in seven bohemian years in Paris, returned to the U.S. in 1904, spent the rest of his life painting slum figures, tramps, refugees -mostly in and around New York City...
Probably nowhere west of the BBC's Third Program could the twist of a radio dial bring such a flood of culture and sophisticated political variety. One day on San Francisco's KPFA-FM there was a book review by Bohemian Poet Kenneth Rexroth; the next, a talk by Art Critic Hubert Crehan on "The 'Scandalous' Art of D.H. Lawrence''; the day after, a performance of Paul Claudel's Christophe Colomb in French, with Jean-Louis Barrault, and for the kiddies a dramatization of The Wind in the Willows. Listeners could tune...
Beyond bringing a rather promising playwright to Broadway, Two for the Seesaw brings a remarkably appealing actress. TV's Anne Bancroft has an urgently personal quality and unmistakable comic gifts. Allotted a distinctive lingo and some catchy lines, she wonderfully brightens her early scenes with a blend of Bohemian bluntness and Bronx cheer. But she can manage emotion too, and inner perception, and suffering she wants to conceal. In a far weaker part-being virtually a straight man in comedy scenes, and a rather literary talker in serious ones-Actor Fonda can only, very often, be adroitly dull...
...with solitary gin? ... Where is Leonard who thought he was a locomotive? . . . What became of Jim Oppenheim? . . . Where is Sol Funaroff? What happened to Potamkin? . . . One sat up all night talking to H. L. Mencken and drowned himself in the morning." Then the Rexroth verse turns to a super Bohemian and aman who was also a good poet: Dylan Thomas. When Rexroth first read the poem, 500 fans stormed The Cellar (seating capacity: 43) to hear...
...downtown San Francisco and all along the Bohemian strip known as North Beach, other poets and hipsters were gigging together to the raucous applause of the city's beard-and-sandal set. The poetry was usually poor and the jazz was worse, but nobody seemed to care. Record business was being done by dim little jazz spots such as the Sail'N and the Black Hawk-the Taj Mahal of West Coast jazz, where Dave Brubeck blew himself to fame. And at the Tin Angel, on the waterfront, Trumpeter Dick Mills and his combo were playing with...