Word: eras
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...most startling comeback of many a show business season is being staged by a trio of Brillo-headed knockabouts called The Three Stooges. Historically, they belong to the era when the Marx Brothers crammed more humanity into a ship's stateroom than a dormitoryful of college students assaulting a telephone booth. Clutching the slapstick just as hard, over the course of 24 years the Stooges cranked out 194 pie-faced comedies for Columbia Pictures, most of them two-reelers designed to run as curtain raisers before the main feature...
From a Chicago hospital bed last week, cancer-stricken Sewell Lee Avery, 85, cut his final tie to Montgomery Ward & Co. as a new era of expansion began for the giant mail-order house. Avery, the reactionary chairman of Ward's for 23 years until he resigned under pressure in 1955, finally quit as a director. At the annual meeting, shortly after the news was announced, Chairman John Andrew Barr, 50, told about the aggressive expansion program. It will use up the last of the $226 million that Sewell Avery hoarded from 1947 to 1955 in his belief that...
...take the chance everyday of someone making a mistake. If we just keep containment we are in constant danger of mistakes," the Governor said. He voiced the opinion that the United Nations was merely an instrument of this containment, and in the long run would only prolong the era of nationalistic tensions rather than allow them to be submerged in a system of world-wide federalism...
...acting, the writing, the direction, just about everything on CBS's Playhouse go last week gave eloquent testimony to television's real potential. Judgment at Nuremberg was a bitterly moving reminder of Nazi Germany's era of evil-so moving, in fact, that for once the commercials supplied some necessary moments of relief. But they were also the source of some of the most naive censorship ever to be inflicted on a show...
Mark Twain Tonight! The stage is a faded daguerreotype, with a high, old-fashioned lectern, a desk with a topply mound of books and a cut-glass pitcher of water, a McKinley-era chair. Into this setting shuffles the spry, white-maned humorist in the white suit. Involuntary tremors ripple the stiffened fingers, the lower jaw nibbles spasmodically at wisps of tobacco-stained mustache, the shoulders twitch like marionettes in the invisible hands of time. But a pagan glint of eye suggests that this is a life less spent than well spent. Then the voice, cracked but not ruined, speaks...