Word: eggs
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...melodies, and Ira has finally decided to release some of them. Fourteen will go to Choreographer George Balanchine for possible use as the score of a ballet, and Ira has already put words to three others. The titles: All the Livelong Day, Sophia and I'm a Poached Egg...
...pleasure of sweetness" that Menotti intended. A month of rehearsals under the sure hand of Thomas Schippers, excellent performances by Peters, Meredith and London, some last-minute opera-doctoring by Menotti, sets and costumes by Beni Montresor that looked like a world perceived inside a crystal Easter egg-nothing could rescue the Savage from its basic banality...
...Kurt Seligmann grew up in Basel, studied art in Geneva, and in 1929 joined the Abstraction-Creation group in Paris. There he worked with Jean Arp in surrealist exploration of a limbo of landscape of imaginary objects utterly divorced from reality. Like Arp, he drew "biomorphs," or lifelike forms-egg shapes, darning sticks, blobs crisply drawn over tempera grounds. To shock the stuffy, he dutifully garlanded a guitar with ivy and epaulets, fitted a stool with four female legs clad in silk stockings. But if he seemed to be trying only to be fashionable, he was nonetheless learning to break...
...partnership is a natural. Ever since he joined his Martin Co. with American-Marietta three years ago, Chairman George Maverick Bunker, 56, has been selling off his least profitable operations and building a nest egg that now amounts to $150 million. On the other hand, Thompson Ramo Wooldridge has the biggest industrial process-control operation in the U.S., supplies devices to such firms as U.S. Steel (to control oxygen furnaces) and Riverside Cement (to regulate cement blending). But TRW did not have capital enough to develop the business and make it profitable. With Martin putting up the cash and owning...
...bosomed, asthmatic Stella Vass has vague socialist principles and treasures a few memories of exhilarating political outings. She despises her weak-kneed husband Andrew, who slaves away in a demeaning job in a London bank. Trying to describe him to a friend, Stella explains: "Have you ever opened an egg and found nothing but a little dried-up tissue and hot, smelly air inside?" She goads him to stand up to his boss, the formidable J. T. Sarson...