Word: copley
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...play gagged up by Kaufman takes hair-trigger handling to put it across. The production at the Copley, however, started off like a funeral procession. About the middle of the first act hope was fast fading when in whooped Erford Gage in a coon skin coat and the show began to shake the dust off its feet. By the end of the second act everyone was talking at once. Mr. Gage was roaring up and down stairs, Joan Croydon (Julie) was standing mid-stage screaming her head off, and things looked brighter. Things continued to look bright straight through...
Last week Publisher Johnson gave a banquet for 300 businessmen at The Copley-Plaza, followed by such a promotion campaign as Boston newspaperdom has never known. Subway posters, newspaper advertisements, sound trucks, radio speakers and an airplane sign-trailer all shouted the news of the Transcript's "Newscope Edition." Two days later, when the Newscope Edition appeared, Beacon Street saw, instead of the Transcript's dowdy old front page, a bold, five-column layout, of which nearly two columns were pictures. The text frankly aped TIME'S news treatment...
...Copley, Macbeth was roaring his last speech to Macduff. His bosom heaved, and his voice thundered out over the audience, rolling majestically up even to the furthermost balcony. His bushy red eyebrows beetled noticeably. Everything had gone against him. His wife had died pitiably. Ten thousand English soldiers had brought Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane. And he was fighting a man not born of a woman. But, despite the witches' warning which must have been ringing in his ears, Macbeth bellowed his own obituary: "Lay on, Macduff; and damn'd be him that first cries Hold, enough...
...without misgivings. The aunt was from the Middle West, you see. To her the glorious traditions of the Copley meant naught. Nevertheless she was not to be caught napping. Without batting an eye she ordered steamed clams for the opening round. A warm glow of pride enveloped her admiring nephew; the old lady was acquitting herself nobly. She knew the ropes. So he relaxed. But you know what pride goes before...
...waiter, whose patient pencil had been long poised, could not smooth over this atrocity. Generations of Copley breeding fell from him; he staggered back as if the aunt had bitten him in the nose and blurted out violently...