Word: dubliners
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Dublin midnight in Groome's Hotel, a haunt of actors and other free souls, the grog flowed as from a well. Then Cinemale Robert Mitchum, in Ireland to star in an Irish Republican Army epic titled A Terrible Beauty, walked in. The facts were hard to come by, but burly (220 Ibs.) Bob Mitchum hazily allowed that he had been approached by an insistent autograph hound. Heavy-lidded ex-Truck Driver Mitchum scrawled a mild obscenity and got socked squarely in the eye for his unfriendly inscription. The story grew hazier from then on, but most agreed that Mitchum...
...taboos-stemming mostly from public moral attitude-center on indecency, concentrated coverage of crime, advocacy of birth control, and offense to the clergy. Dublin's biggest daily, the Irish Independent, built its circulation (171,728) on the boast that it could be read by the oldest mother superior in the smallest convent in Ireland without bringing a blush to her cheeks...
...VICAR . . . I'M HAVING A BABY, substituted SAVED DE VALERA FROM THE FIRING SQUAD. London's lip-smacking The People last week shelved a picture of Marilyn Monroe in a two-piece bathing suit, substituted one of the triple wedding of some County Mayo girls. Says a Dublin newsman: "When you see an English paper writing about Lourdes or the Irish saints, you can bet that the space in home editions was filled with i WAS A TEEN-AGE SEX MANIAC...
Shakespeare's Twelfth Night (Spoken Word, 3 LPs) gets a fine new production by the players of the Dublin Gate Theatre, with Michael MacLiammoir as Malvolio, "sick of self-love," posturing his priggish way with timeless vulgarity. London is also out with a spate of Shakespeare-Coriolamis, Othello, Julius Caesar, Richard II-in a series of journeyman readings by the Marlowe Society players, who eventually will press all the plays. One of the most majestically read of the talking books is MGM's Joseph Conrad, in which Sir Ralph Richardson whittles Youth and Heart of Darkness to half...
Ireland's tosspot Playwright Brendan (The Quare Fellow) Behan, 36, bedded in a Dublin hospital after tying on a monumental jag in London (TIME, July 20), scrawled a "confession" for a Dublin Sunday newspaper. "I'm neither dead, dying, drunk nor dotty," wrote he. ". . . It is true, however, that I am an alcoholic." Why does he tipple? "First, because I like the stuff. Secondly, because I like company, and thirdly, because a pint of orange or lemon juice is twice the price of a pint of stout...