Word: caning
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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That leaves Mary Martin, which is a magnificent mercy for the more than 100 theater parties that are already committed to go to this threnody. Whether she is nostalgically sashaying through a cane-and-straw-hat routine, or spinning head over heels on a giant Roto-Broil of a torture wheel, or running her voice like a caress over a romantic ballad, she has the star quality that transcends marquees and animates legends. In her bearing, timing, suppleness, versatility, she is a flawless professional. Her only wrong move in Jennie is being in Jennie...
...deceptively mild-looking, with a tidy black mustache, a trilby hat and a walking cane. Humility warmed his wide brown eyes. He liked to think of himself as a kind man, and to say that he could forgive the world its sins because they were more stupid than wicked. But though forgiveness came easy, David Low, who died last week at 72, could not bring himself to overlook either stupidity or wickedness. For 60 years he attacked them both with brilliant and unparalleled ferocity. His weapon was the cartoonist's brush...
Early this year, William Devereux Zantzinger, 24, a prosperous tobacco farmer in southern Maryland, went on a bender with his wife, ended the evening charged with homicide (TIME, Feb. 22). At a restaurant, Zantzinger whacked two employees with a cane. Later that evening, at a white-tie dance in a Baltimore hotel, he used the cane again on a Negro bellhop and a Negro waitress. Then he scolded a Negro barmaid, Mrs. Hattie Carroll, 51. "What's the matter with you, you black son of a bitch," he snarled, "serving my drinks so slow?" With that, he beat...
...terrace of his villa, La Capponcina (Little Capon), overlooking Monte Carlo, William Maxwell Aitken, Lord Beaverbrook, leans on a Malacca cane. He looks as old as he is: 84. Age has bleached his skin to wrinkled parchment; one foot is shoeless, a concession to gout; a floppy, broad-brimmed straw hat shields him from the hot Mediterranean sun. But the sun has not been up much longer than the Beaver, and he is not there merely to bask...
...shades swoop down upon the living, who do their best to placate them with a sumptuous feast. Dressed in their best black silk and carrying burning joss sticks, the women recite invitations to their dead ancestors to partake of roast pig's head and sticks of sugar cane, peanuts and white rice. As offerings to less trencher-minded spirits, they burn paper imitations of currency and clothes...