Word: kliegs
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...ever to bamboozle an editor, New York Press-agent Jim Moran, 51, has found a needle in a haystack (after 82 hr. 35 min.), hatched an ostrich egg (19 days on the nest), sold an icebox to an Eskimo and two snow-blind fleas to Paramount (for use under klieg lights), to pitch himself or a client into the newspapers. Last week Moran was landing in print again, on a coast-to-coast search for "the happiest girl in America-a girl as happy as a Lark." His client: Studebaker's Lark...
...Hitler saved the show by inviting Ellen home for a festival. She refused, and Bill billed her as "The Girl Who Said No to Hitler." Then one night he broke every window in the theater and scrawled swastikas on the walls. "We opened," says he, "to klieg lights and state militia all over the place. We ran for ten weeks...
...tough scout. On the show, Actor Bond is fatherly one minute, the next he is roaring like a mule with the colic. An extravert's extravert, he has a grin like a Texas river, a mile wide and an inch deep, and a laugh that can shatter a klieg light. He also has guts. When a backing horse broke his hip, Bond bellered for his Scotch and milk (the milk is for his ulcer, he explains, the Scotch for him), was on the set next...
President Eisenhower mounted the rostrum, took his place before the blue-topped lectern in a blaze of a dozen klieg lights. He looked well-erect, dignified, relaxed, smiling broadly as he acknowledged the applause, "Thank you! Thank you!" He sounded well-his voice was firm, alert, vital-as he prefaced his speech by saying Happy Birthday to the presiding officers. Vice President Richard Nixon, 46 that day; Speaker Sam Rayburn, 77 that week. Then President Eisenhower set about "showing" the 86th Congress by refusing-even with the Communist planet orbiting the sun and the U.S.S.R.'s Anastas Mikoyan orbiting...
Their silk saris shimmering under the brilliant klieg lights, the shapely dancers swayed around the gaudy temple door. "Cut!" barked the director again and again. In a torrid Bombay movie studio one day last week, the simple, three-minute sequence was reshot eight times. But for the girls, it was worth every minute of a ten-hour day. Like such cinemorsels as Top Star Madhubala and a few other lucky ones, any one of the lowly dancing girls may suddenly grow rajah-rich in the third biggest-and zani-est-movie industry on earth...