Word: fingerings
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...choice, if uneven, selection of modern paintings, sculpture and drawings, and it had both Parke-Bernet's main gallery (white tickets) and TV annex (pink tickets) jammed to overflowing. The bidding was brisk: a curt nod, a quick wave of a pencil, an almost imperceptible gesture with a finger-the secret semaphore of auctioneering-would send the bidding up anywhere from $100 to $5,000. When the auctioneer had exhausted every other trick in his bag of cajolery, he would invoke the ultimate persuader of the current art market: "It's a wonderful, wonderful investment...
...system, he confidently expects to have 550 drive-ins doing $90 million worth of business by the end of next year. Says he: "What we have attempted to do is eliminate those things that people don't eat. You can't eat a 20% tip, a perfumed finger bowl or a waitress. It isn't the cost of food that has gone up, it's the service. We are in the meat and potatoes business -and meat and potatoes aren...
...next eleven hours, Jones pores over contracts and proposals, fidgets through conferences-in conversation, he is a habitual shadowboxer, leg crosser and finger tapper-with a steady stream of generals, vice presidents, scientists and budgeteers. After hours, his social life is relaxed and seldom formal. Despite his appreciation of good food and wine, he eats and drinks sparingly. His house lacks a bomb shelter but boasts a wine vault...
Died. Leonard ("Chico") Marx, 70, sly-smiling comedian whose fake Italian accent, trademark costume of velvet jacket and pointed hat, and pistol-finger piano playing backed his four younger brothers in their own brand of joyously irreverent comedy; of a heart attack; in Hollywood. In such Marx Brothers hits as Animal Crackers, A Night at the Opera and A Night in Casablanca, Chico convulsed fans with his deadpan translation of horn honks made by leering Brother Harpo, his wild-eyed pocket picking and shortchanging and his Chaplinesque penchant for attracting trouble...
...save her, he finds a justification for his own life. At the Sistine Chapel, facing Michelangelo's Last Judgment, the failed painter delivers a soliloquy. " 'Okay, Angelo,' he said to himself grimly. 'I came into that chapel of yours expecting a big lift. That finger of God of yours came right down and you stuck it in my eye. Maybe my canvases should all be thrown out. Or some landlady will use them to cover holes in the wall in some cheap rooming house. But maybe it's as big, even a bigger thing...