Word: manhattan
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Louis, already tagged with a $500,000 alienation of affections suit by a Chicago clergyman named Matthew Faulkner, was named corespondent in the minister's divorce suit against Carolle Drake ("Mattie") Faulkner, a Manhattan model. Said Joe, whose own marriage broke up four months ago: "My relations with Mrs. Faulkner never went beyond the bounds of friendship...
...73rd year." Among the many string quartets, concertos and pieces for a musical clock, the old man dimly remembered some 118 symphonies (latest scholarly count: 104) and half a dozen operas, including one, L'Infedelta Fedele, which musicologists are now sure he never wrote. Last week, however, Manhattan music lovers and critics alike pounded their palms over one he both wrote and remembered...
...poet by taking him on a trip to the moon. It sounded like fun, but the first problem was to find the score. Il Mondo had been resurrected in Germany in 1932, but had never been produced in the U.S. Leavitt finally found the German version through a Manhattan publisher, changed the name to The Man in the Moon, and set about squeezing it down for Lemonade Opera...
...voices were outstanding, but Haydn's rollicking ensembles and the well-rehearsed way the Lemonaders sang them were the hit of the show. Next biggest hit: the eminently singable, notably contemporary English libretto of onetime Berlin Music Critic John Gutman, who now has a job in Manhattan's Wall Street. Sample, from a quintet pondering the advisability of admitting the miserly father to the "harmonious" life on the moon...
Each Saturday and Sunday for the past three months, a little procession has arrived punctually at 6:30 p.m. at RCA Victor's midtown Manhattan recording studios. The routine never varies. The youngest, Mlle. Denise Restout, goes straight to the harpsichord, yanks open her tool kit, and starts tuning. The huskiest, Mlle. Elsa Schunicke, carries the pillows and the hamper, loaded with sandwiches, a vacuum jug of coffee, and a supply of specially blended horehound drops. Then, her hands folded before her, and her craggy features blissfully composed, Mme. Wanda Landowska herself floats in like a tiny wraith, nods...