Word: madnesses
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...current season. Forcefully conceived and superbly constructed, it tells the story of a Russian Jew in his struggle for power and self expression. Cursed with a driving ambition, an unlimited imagination, and a suppressed poetic fervor, Sol Ginsburg rises ruthlessly to the domination of a great business firm. This mad search for power drives Sol from his love for Sarah Glassman; his restless soul is never satisfied; his confused ideals and desires lead him on in unceasing search for anything which seems inaccessible to him. Having achieved his goal of wealth and industrial dominance, having compelled the vacuous, sensuous mistress...
Bookmakers in Manhattan reported that $100,000 had been wagered on Fordham v. St. Mary's. Beaten by Nevada in last fortnight's most surprising upset, St. Mary's started off badly when Fordham's Maniaci intercepted a pass, made a mad 80-yd. dash for a touchdown in the first quarter. Harry ("The Horse'') Mattos tied the score with a touchdown in the next quarter, threw a pass to Erdelatz for another in the last. St. Mary's 14, Fordham...
...unionists down into the pit to say: "Come up within 30 minutes." Thereupon the miners added the trade unionists to their collection of hostages. Finally, after five days of the strike, the owners agreed to raise the miners' wages. Back to daylight were hauled the workers -famished, half-mad, near death...
...orchestra, crates of colorful scenery, 6,000 costumes, and forthwith proceeded to prove that the ballet still exists as a great & glamorous art (TIME, Jan. 1). Nearly 25,000 U. S. readers, many of whom had never seen a Russian ballet, caught much of its fascination from Nijinsky, the mad dancer's biography written by his Hungarian wife Romola, who blames her husband's insanity on the late great Serge Diaghilev (TIME, March 19). Last week Arnold L. Haskell, Britain's ablest dance critic, who knew both Diaghilev and Madame Nijinsky, recorded his own ballet enthusiasms.* Dancers...
...wider & wider at this doom-implying youngster as they read further. To readers accustomed to a well-defined short-story tradition, Author Saroyan's subjective soliloquies may seem impertinently irrelevant to the price of eggs. His unconcern with plot is enough to drive contrivers of well-made stories mad with resentment. All Author Saroyan tries to tell about is "the truth of my presence on earth." In his own person or in thin disguise he writes about barber shops, bawdy houses, cold rooms in Manhattan or San Francisco, pawning his typewriter, finding a little brown snake in a park...