Word: bookshops
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...Watch and Ward, a long established citizens' vigilance committee, has been prominent in recent Cambridge news through its activity in connection with charges of selling obscene literature brought by the Society against James A. Delacey, manager of the Dunster House Bookshop of South Street, and his assistant, who are now appealing a conviction by the Cambridge District Court...
...sale of an obscene book to a member of the Watch and Ward Society brought heavy fines and prison terms to James A. DeLacey, manager of the Dunster House bookshop, and Joseph Sullivan, clerk in the shop, which is located on South street. DeLacey was fined $800 and sentenced to four months in the house of correction by Judge Stone of the Cambridge court. Sullivan was fined $200 and sentenced to two weeks in the house of correction...
...glance around any modern bookshop is proof that current literature is far greater in amount than the average reader can hope comfortably to taste, to chew, or to digest. The student in Harvard naturally feels somewhat at a loss which way to turn when presented with such a volume of reading matter. The value of some sort of selection in this maze of books seems obvious...
Fifteen years ago three men sat in a bookshop. They argued as to whether Lord Dunsany's play The Glittering Gate was easy to act. Finding a copy of it on a shelf, they made the simplest test. Robert Edmond Jones shaped scenery from wrapping paper. Philip Moeller and Edward Goodman gestured, intoned romantic lines. Helen Westley, who happened in, was audience. From this beginning came the Washington Square Players and eventually the Theatre Guild.* Starting officially in 1919, the Guildsmen planned two plays for their first season. They estimated they would need $2,000. They got $675-revenue...
Outside was the dark and curving Soho alley, with the foggy lights of a Singhalese restaurant, a French bookshop, a wig-maker's, an oyster bar. And the room was violently foreign, with frescoes by a sign painter−or a barn-painter: Isola Bella. Fiesole, Castel Sant' Angelo. But Sam did not look at them. He−who but once in his life had attended a Rotary lunch−looked at the Rotary wheel, and his smile was curiously timid. There was no reason for it apparent to him, but suddenly these banners made him feel that...