Word: holing
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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What's more, the pedestrian naturalism of Barrie's golfscapes is relieved, now & then, by a whiff of romantic feeling. "I have allowed myself the privilege," he says in the catalogue foreword, "of interpreting each hole in the time of day, or season of the year, that seemed most appropriate. For instance the 5th hole at [Clementon, NJ.'s] Pine Valley was painted on a grey morning, after an all-night rain. Pine Valley is a rugged course, as all golfers know, and this is reached with a 218-yd. shot uphill. The green . . . is as formidable...
...little 11th hole at [Tarrytown, N.Y.'s] Sleepy Hollow, a one-shotter of 142 yds., is, on the other hand, attractive and gay. It is comparatively easy. The trees are soft and inviting, the reflections in the water are lyric and I have tried to give just that impression in my colorful and atmospheric interpretation...
...them was a childhood memory: his father had once ordered an enormous red divan for his Paris bistro, hoping to attract a fancier clientele. When it arrived, it was too big for the bistro, so his father punched a hole in the wall of Roland's adjoining bedroom to make it fit. At night, young Roland could see a little into the cafe; he remembered particularly one regular customer, a "beautiful woman," of whom he could seldom see more than a white arm and shoulder. Another idea in Petit's head came from watching a performance of South...
...bistro. In his scenario, Petit turned the "beautiful woman" of his childhood into a jewel thief who steals diamonds "not to wear or sell, but to eat, like children crunch candy." The first the audience saw of her was a slim white arm and shoulder, snaking out through a hole in the wall to lift the wallets of passersby. When Ballerina Renée Jeanmaire finally turned up in full view (in sexy black tights) to sing & dance her bit ("I'm a cruncher of diamonds, I can't do without this vitamin . . ."), she brought the house down...
...manor in a rambling Tudor stone mansion near Valhalla, N.Y., 22 miles north of Manhattan. He sometimes cruises the paths of his 365-rolling, wooded acres in a fringe-topped surrey drawn by one of his blooded road horses. He used to play golf on his private nine-hole course with his wife, Polly, but since her death last year has given up the game. Now he keeps fit raking leaves, laying stone walks to his favorite retreat, a cozy cabin overlooking a pond. His constant helpers in these weekend stints are A & P's President Ralph W. Burger...