Word: hums
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Festival (by Sam and Bella Spewack) takes place in the rococo sunroom of a music impresario. Phones blare, tempers explode, rival artists snarl and spit. Then a lady music teacher arrives with a child prodigy to make things really hum. Soon she is rumored to be a famous pianist's discarded mistress and the prodigy their illegitimate son. With the child's real father suspecting his wife, and a lady cellist buzzing with sex. it all suggests a game of musical sofas...
...Conversation in this country has fallen upon evil days . . . It is drowned out in singing commercials by the world's most productive economy that has so little to say for itself it has to hum it. It is hushed and shushed in dimly lighted parlors by television audiences who used to read, argue, and even play bridge, an old-fashioned card game requiring speech. It is shouted down by devil's advocates, thrown into disorder by points of order . . . subdued by soft-voiced censors." To Griswold the disorderly noises issuing from the human race may lead to ugly...
...Russia. An immense show of wealth, concealing poverty. The landau at the door, the servants in the attic." At lunch there were long silences between toasts, broken at last by Attlee, who abruptly asked: "How do you get your milk in Moscow?" The Russians told them, in a laborious hum of translation, broken by the clear, social-worker voice of Dr. Edith: "I'm not interested in yield. What about safety? Are all your supplies pasteurized...
...When the hum of mutual compliments and tinkling of glasses had died away, it looked as if the gallery would soon have funds for not one but two rest rooms. To some Woodstock's gaiety seemed too close to complacency-none of the big names had produced works for the occasion that were important, or even particularly adventurous. Grumbled Abstract Sculptor Herman Cherry: "Cocktail parties . . . flourish like poison ivy in this vicinity." But most Woodstock artists find that oil and Martinis mix well enough, and that art need not be great to be worth while...
...Stars. From the oldtime start, the music came gradually up to date. Things really began to hum when Bop Trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie took the stage with his quintet. Looking bemused and gesturing wildly, he set his cocked trumpet* to his lips and played Gabriel-like tones that sent chills up the listeners' spines. "See, that's a square bend," he explained, pointing to the upswept angle. "Well, I get a sort of square note out of there. When you say 'Pow-w-w,' it comes out like a pounding-like a pounding of bricks...