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...well-known story of earnest, hu mane AMG Major Joppolo, who made democracy work in Fascist-ridden Adano, and of bullying General Marvin who bounced him for defying the General's undemocratic orders, is a timely parable, limited in its black-&-white simplicity but illuminating. The play has all the book's affirmation, but not enough of its anger-for one thing, because General Marvin is nothing more than a first-act offstage below and never becomes a visible antagonist. Squeezing the whole life of the Sicilian town into Joppolo's office also carries penalties: some things...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Theater: New Plays in Manhattan, Dec. 18, 1944 | 12/18/1944 | See Source »

...John L. Lewis still packs a wallop. His luxurious mane is streaked with grey; he is still saddened by the death two years ago of his wife Myrta; he has given up smoking, and now just chews cigars down to two-inch butts. But his vocabulary is still full of sound & fury, his anger still as righteous as Jere miah's, his hold on the United Mine Workers still complete...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: LABOR: Brethren, Follow John L. | 9/25/1944 | See Source »

Solemnly stepping through their paces, the Senators first received the House-passed Marcantonio bill, which would outlaw the poll tax in eight Southern states. On cue, bombastic old Tom Connally rose up to shake his grey-white mane and speak his piece about States' rights. "Because my own State of Texas does not conduct its affairs as the State of New York thinks it should conduct them," he declaimed, "these crusaders, these Sir Galahads, mount their steeds and come down into Texas to modify us, and to Christianize us, and to liberalize us, and to modernize...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Today: The Poll Tax Peril | 5/22/1944 | See Source »

Shortly after 11 o'clock one morning last fortnight, a little group of men burst out of the Democratic conference room in the Senate Office Building. They were led by an extraordinary figure. Tall, pink and portly, with a mane of grey-white hair curling over his collar, he was dressed in a long-coated black suit, a boiled white shirt fastened with gold studs, a black bow tie, and mirror-shiny black boots. As he pushed his way through a swarm of newshawks and photographers Tom Connally of Texas, whose appearance reminds some of an oldtime Shakespearean actor...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Senate & the Peace | 3/13/1944 | See Source »

Marshal Stalin is 5 ft. 5 in. tall. But there was magnetism and a certain majesty in the figure with the brushlike mane, iron-grey mustache, a bright Marshal's uniform which was slightly too large for a perfect fit. In all that he did and said, he was quiet, impassive, at times almost immobile. He walked smoothly, effortlessly into every reception and meeting of the Conference. Sophisticated diplomats said that when he passed them in the gardens their hair rose and they quivered. He spoke softly, often in low whispers. To his hearers, his words seemed to come...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Foreign News: Big Little Man | 12/20/1943 | See Source »

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