Word: madnesses
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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What made Joe mad was "a refusal on the part of certain officers to carry out directives or recognize the authority of the president." The "certain officers" named by Curran were N.M.U. vice presidents Frederick Myers and Howard McKenzie and the Negro secretary, Ferdinand Smith. All of them were Marxists...
Everybody Sing. When the union leaders looked mad enough to walk out, Dewey wondered out loud and apropos nothing: did they know where one of their leading union songs had come from? No? Well, on a trip to the South he once heard Negroes sing a spiritual, Jesus Is Our Leader. Later he told John L. Lewis about it and soon Lewis' miners were singing, "Lewis is our leader." The U.A.W. changed it to "Thomas" (for beefy R. J. Thomas, their president...
...young Hungarian art student got mad at his work. He was sketching a routine, academic still life; it seemed to him "there were too many shapes pressed into a chaotic arrangement." So he took scissors, cut away some parts of the study, turned it to an angle of 90°. Friends scoffed at his mutilated picture, but it gave him "a feeling of indescribable happiness...
...those who see little connection between his Benediction and its title, Lipchitz simply recalls the day on the road south from Paris when he made his first sketch of the harpist: "I was very mad, very anxious. This [sculpture] was a little song for Paris what I had to sing. It is like somebody goes to sleep. But sleep would bring cauchemar [nightmare], so I sing him a song that everything will come out all right. Maybe it is something that will make me feel better...
Clark's success rests partly on skill: he knows cold every comedy trick that vaudeville and burlesque, those hardest of taskmasters, can teach. But his success rests equally on personality. He is the little man who is a little mad; the fellow who, leering behind painted specs or grr-r-ring like a wolf, seems ready to leap at a woman or over a wall. Meanwhile, he remains in frantic, if aimless motion. There are more explosive comics (Durante, for one) than Bobby Clark; but none in whom so much seems just about to explode...