Word: cherubs
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...audio-equipment salesman on Lexington Avenue. Next came a rather handsome likeness of Walter Kerr, not Walter F. Kerr of the Herald Tribune, of course, but Walter J. Kerr, a manufacturers' representative. So on down the line, Merrick's version of Richard Watts, the ever smiling cherub of the New York Post, was a Negro who works as a printing supervisor with the Blue Cross. Merrick explained later that he had selected this particular Richard Watts because "there isn't one critic who is a Negro, which I consider a violation of the Fair Employment Practices laws...
Bernard Shor is a beefy saloonkeeper who looks like an elderly, slightly worn cherub. He insults his best friends ("Ya crumb-bum!") and coldly rejects sycophants ("How should I remember ya when I only seen ya oncet?"). Everybody calls him Toots, a name that has stuck since childhood when he was-incredible as it may seem-a pretty boy. His pals are sportsmen, athletes, politicians, showfolk, journalists and has-beens; in short, Toots Shor is a Runyonesque character too true to be fictional...
...first stage appearance after a dozen years of teaching, Stella Adler didn't seem quite ready for Madame Rosepettle. However, the Times conceded that the play was "hilarious," and the Daily Mail said of Kopit: "He writes like an angel or, to be more precise, like a mischievous cherub who has just had a highly diverting season in hell and is dying to tell all about...
...First Love" by Jonathan Kozol is a short story about the not so innocent first love of two thirteen year olds: Pixie, the innkeeper's daughter, and Cherub, a visiting youth. It has all the ingredients of an excellent story, humor, sex, concrete and abundant metaphor, good description and suspense. The dialogue is sometimes devastating: (Pixie): "You know what Daddy has said? Daddy says they don't wear bathing-tops in the desert. He says I will only need my panties." The story is somewhat less than excellent, however, because of spotiness. There are lapses in the consistency of metaphor...
Died. Dorothy Leigh Sayers Fleming, 64, erudite, cherub-faced whoduniteer (The Nine Tailors), translator (Chanson de Roland), playwright (The Devil to Pay), rapier-witted Anglican writer on theology (Creed or Chaos?); of a coronary thrombosis; in Witham, England. One of Oxford's first women graduates (Somerville College, 1915), Dorothy Sayers gained fame and fortune with her deft mysteries, wrote religious dramas for the Church of England's Canterbury Festival, worked since 1947 on her magnum opus, Dante's Divine Comedy in a vivid, homiletic translation, completed two canticles (Inferno, 1949; Purgatorio, 1955) before her death...