Word: mellows
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From the other end of the line spoke Florida's Claude Pepper. In Taft's mellow old age, he predicted, Taft would remember with more pleasure his support of federal housing, education, medical aid, "than he will recall his Herculean success in putting the retarding fist of his power in the face of the multitudes struggling up the ladder of life to enjoy a few of the satisfactions to which the fortunate were born...
...before returning to London. He had just finished a business errand for Britain's crack opera company; Glyndebourne's U.S. debut at Princeton, N.J. had been set for autumn 1950, and Bing was well satisfied. Then his phone rang. His faintly accented "Hello" was answered by the mellow tenor tone of the Metropolitan Opera's Edward Johnson. Could Mr. Bing attend a performance as his guest? Rudi Bing said he would be delighted. Last week, operalovers the world over learned that Rudi had seen and heard more than Mozart's Marriage of Figaro...
...felt that it was all a lot bigger job than anyone had realized at the start. The business proposition was also a proposition in national and human subtleties. With larger perspective but undiminished determination, Zellerbach said: "It's more of a challenge than ever." Italian ministers were more mellow, too. They were thinking less in political and regional and more in overall economic terms. They were leaning on Zellerbach for counsel. They liked him fine...
...after his retirement in 1937 that Yalemen got to know him better, for President Emeritus Angell seldom missed a chance to return to campus. He was an honored guest at all Yale functions, made speeches with a wit that seemed to mellow with age. Last month, though incurably ill with cancer, he made one of his speeches at the 25th anniversary of his nursing school ("I have only one criticism ... of [nurses]. When they use a needle to stick you, they always choose a blunt needle"). That was the last time Yale ever heard him. Last week, at 79, James...
Dark-eyed Elena Nikolaidi, assured and lovely in a pale taffeta gown, stepped out on the stage of Manhattan's Town Hall, composed her hands and began to sing. Her voice, ranging from a mellow low contralto to a brilliant mezzo-soprano, glided through songs by Gluck, Haydn, Schubert, Rossini, Mahler, Ravel and De-Falla; the performance came to an end with the Sleep-Walking Scene from Verdi's Macbeth. The audience shuffled their programs to look at the name again. Thirtyish Elena Nikolaidi, making her U.S. debut and almost unknown outside Athens and Vienna, had achieved...