Word: guitar
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Music is still Mr. Woodin's avocation. At night he sits up in bed in his penthouse just off Manhattan's Fifth Avenue and plucks out new melodies on a guitar. For this week's Inaugural he has written "The Franklin Delano Roosevelt March." Works of his which have been well received professionally include "The Oriental Suite" and "The Covered Wagon Suite." But he says: "I'm not a budding Mozart or Brahms. I don't claim genius." Last week politicians poked fun at one of the verses of his songs for children which goes...
Long years ago he strummed a reverent guitar while hymns were sweetly sung by "The Little Flower" of Lisieux. famed Thérèse Martin who died in 1897. Later M. Chéron was six times Mayor of Lisieux in Normandy, zealously promoted the I. S. L. F. (International Society of the Little Flower). In 1925 the Society and M. Chéron knew boundless joy when Thérèse of Lisieux was officially canonized in Rome as St. Thérèse of the Infant Jesus...
When a Hindu bows to applause he puts the palms of his hands together under his nose, bends forward as deeply and reverently as if he were addressing deity. When Hindus want music they summon someone who can play one of India's many kinds of guitar or one of India's many drums. When Hindus want to see their native dances done in the most authentic, polished fashion they seek out the Hindu Dancer Uday Shankar, protege of the late Maharaja of Jhalawar. who studied at the London Royal College of Arts, forsook painting to dance with...
...little room, swells out through the casements, and drifts down the sunny street. Men turn from their tasks and listen, as to a Pied Piper; old fingers and young ache to play. Someone in the fields takes up a fiddle; a fine gentleman blows the dust from his guitar. A street boy whistles; soldiers sing. All the street is become a gypsy orchestra. It is happy Vienna, Schubert's town, and the streets are filled with his song...
...little room, swells out through the casements, and drifts down the sunny street. Men turn from their tasks and listen, as to a Pied Piper; old fingers and young ache to play. Someone in the fields takes up a fiddle; a fine gentleman blows the dust from his guitar. A street boy whistles; soldiers sing. All the street is become a gypsy orchestra. It is happy Vienna, Schubert's town, and the streets are filled with his song...