Word: heps
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Timex All-Star Jazz Show (CBS, 8-9 p.m.)." Just like the three previous all-star jam sessions. A real hep crew-Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Gene Krupa-blasting out cool tunes...
...believe it they did. Among letters from hep engineers who realized that MOLE was a gag were many serious letters seeking information, asking for subcontracts, or jobs on Project MOLE. Eager enthusiasts called by phone. "They wouldn't let us explain what was going on," says Monahan helplessly. "They'd make sure they'd got the right company, -and then go into their sales pitch." One company insisted on being hired to build the launching pad (or sinking site). "One thing it proves," says Monahan, "is that engineers can be awfully gullible. One reason we did this...
...readers make their own forecasts. All four Los Angeles papers ran poll results, otherwise avoided getting out on a limb. As for the other New York newspapers, the most remarkable performance was a public display of neuro-journalism by the New York Post (see below). The usually hep New York Daily News pulled an Election-Night boner with the un-Newsworihy headline, HARRIMAN JUMPS AHEAD IN CITY VOTE, at the same hour that the competitive Mirror was proclaiming ROCKY WINS. The Herald Tribune's national political pundit, Joseph Alsop (TIME, Oct. 27), wrote four days before election that "anyone...
...hep, sharp-tongued fledgling of the novel becomes, despite David Wayne's attractive playing, somebody far less individual on the stage. The show is most fun as a kind of production trek-producers' offices, lady stars (Vivian Elaine), auditions, rehearsals, feuds, hotel rooms. With the high dudgeon and the low language, with much of the action reduced to caricature and much of the dialogue delivered in wisecracks, even what is not authentic show business makes breezy vaudeville. Really fresh and funny is a very young coproducer, a long-on-argot but short-on-savvy brat-about-town, delightfully...
Into Detroit's cavernous Riviera Theater one evening last week trooped well-heeled symphony patrons alongside wide-eyed teen-agers and hep college students. While the brasses and strings shimmered and the drums rolled, the man they had come to see strolled from the wings in V-necked shirt and snug blue slacks. When the hard white lights burst on him, Harry Belafonte hunched his shoulders and launched his husky baritone into the exuberant Muleskinner Blues...