Word: excelsior
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Walking out from his Moscow residence in a cream suit and white snap-brim hat, with his wife, Tito pointed out the house in Pushkinskaya Street where he lived in the 30's, paid a visit to the famed Lux (renamed Excelsior) Hotel, onetime headquarters of the Comintern, from which hundreds of foreign Communists were dragged in midnight raids during the great purges. Taking refuge from crowds of gaping Russians in an ice-cream parlor, Tito ordered champagne and cakes...
...famed novelette, The Old Man and the Sea. With callous ingratitude, he had never even thanked his pitiful source of such profitable material. When the ugly canard, headed "Old Miguel and Hemingway's Word," hit Page One of Havana's big (circ. 52,000) morning daily, Excelsior, it bloomed too close to home. Thoroughly enraged, Hemingway went to the Warner Bros, unit now filming The Old Man in Cuba, borrowed a tape-recorder man, a cameraman and a pressagent. Soon, Papa was set up in his favorite local bistro, La Terraza Café, on the harbor of Cojimar...
...Civil War came to the rescue. Sickles raised a brigade in New York, called it the "Excelsior," and poured his own money into it. Just as the brigade approached bankruptcy, the Union defeat at Bull Run made President Lincoln happy to put Sickles' volunteer army on the Federal payroll. Sickles hired chefs from Delmonico's to keep the mess happy, but good cooking did not save him from losing a third of his men in the advanced position he had taken up against Meade's orders at Gettysburg. While the rights of the matter were still being...
...throw, the Faustling gets himself a fortune, wins the siren, judos her bruiser husband through a window, captures an Oscar, contrives a 1958 Pulitzer Prize script for the playwright. This unearned future honor brings the playwright to his senses; shouting "Excelsior " he first saves young Faust from Hell, then saves himself from Hollywood...
...after only 23 performances. With hardly a line deleted or dinosaur added, Wilder's drama is in a sense better than it was 13 years ago. His tearfully laughable story of mankind, allegorically and often outlandishly larded into the daily life of Mr. and Mrs. George Antrobus of Excelsior, N.J.. is just the same. What has changed, in hot war and cold, is the audience. Today's playgoers, themselves survivors of some close shaves, can sympathize more feelingly, even in the shadow of a mushroom cloud, with generic George Antrobus as he survives not only...