Word: madding
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Francisco's North Beach and Los Angeles' Venice West, make much of their loud vows of poverty. To be poor, yak the shirtless ones as they sit scratching in store-front espresso halls, is to be holy, man, holy. But last week, the mendicants of marijuana and mad verse were in the somewhat embarrassing position of monks whose liqueur sells too well. Tourists were snapping up their stuff like Chinese back-scratchers, and the beatniks were starting to rake in the dough...
...Carolina College ('47), went on to study at Columbia University and the Sorbonne, concentrating on 18th century German metaphysics. Then he set out to travel and write. Perhaps it is this kind of distance that removes Lover Man from the mountain of angry-Negro stories. Anderson is not mad at anyone. He is fascinated by the South, by what he has seen, and by what he has heard, and he manages to re-create that fascination for his reader...
...blue uniforms, making frequent comings and goings, usually got casual treatment from customs officials. But last May Indian customs at Calcutta's Dum Dum airport found a 7-oz. gold bar in Chinese Stewardess Jenny Wang's handbag. (Her explanation: Hong Kong residents "customarily" carry gold as "mad money" in case the Chinese Communists should suddenly overrun the city.) A fellow steward, David Furlonger, seeing her being searched, was overheard by an Indian customs official as he remarked, "You can't trust these Asiatics." Infuriated, the customs official ordered Furlonger searched too-and found...
...pleased surprise. As the performance unfolded, Laughton's Lear never forgot that his was a family tragedy; even the first-act simpering made sense, for it showed a fool-father truly stupid enough to be gulled by his ugly daughters, Regan and Goneril. Then, as the king wandered mad through the storm, deserted by his daughters, the performance departed the norm again. Laughton's king was strangely calm and compelling. Rarely was he moved to the familiar, passion-torn shrieks of other Lears. His fantastic monologues with himself sounded almost conversational: "Let the great Gods, that keep this...
...reaction was another clue. Rushing half-shaved from his barber's chair to the skyscraper state capitol, he arrived just as the adjournment vote was being tallied, made a speech which was a startling departure from his usual profane tirades (TIME, June 15). "I ain't mad at anybody," Ole Earl purred. "If that's the way you like it, I don't know what else I can do. Go home, think it over, and let your conscience be your guide. Thank you, good luck, and God bless...