Word: musicians
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Exquisitely shaped, the vases show the ancient Greeks as they were, their manlike gods and godlike men, their moments of joy and ecstasy, of heroism and erotic abandon. Whether they portray an Olympic race, a night on the town or a musician lost in his art (opposite), the figures have a bouncy, springlike energy that most observers find irresistible...
Chock Full o' Guts. By 1941, when she was 13, Althea was ready to graduate from paddle tennis. The PAL instructor that year was an unemployed musician named Buddy Walker, and Buddy was impressed with the gangly youngster's ferocious skill. He went to a friend named Van Houton (a tennis buff who liked to boast that he was the only self-employed racket stringer in Harlem), bought Althea a pair of secondhand rackets, and put her to work practicing against the wall of a handball court. A few weeks later he took her uptown to some public...
...trouble was that by then Althea dominated Negro girls' tennis, and she was getting nowhere fast. She shot pool and billiards, soaked up jazz and thought of a career as a nightclub singer or musician (Sugar Ray bought her a saxophone). Then, in the summer of 1946, Althea moved up to the women's division of the Negro A.T.A. national championships. She was beaten in the finals by Roumania Peters, a Tuskegee Institute instructor, but her tremendous potential as a tennis player caught the attention of two A.T.A. officials: Dr. Robert Johnson, a general practitioner from Lynchburg...
Eventually, Toshiko would like to go back to Japan: "The position of the jazz musician there is so low now that I feel a responsibility to do something about it. I'd like to go back and start an orchestra for the movies, and once a month or so we could present a jazz concert." But she knows also that Japan is not a challenging place for developing jazz talent; the competition is too thin. "When you push against a wall," says Toshiko, "you know you are pushing. When you push a curtain, it gives...
...certainly no cinch. The actor liked to assure his rare interviewers: "Between pictures, there is no Lon Chaney.'' In a large sense, that was so. There was no Chaney. but there was a solitary fisherman, a bodkin-eyed amateur movie cameraman, a proficient wigmaker, a talented musician. Hollywood's hungriest reader-and always, the actor testing his disguises. One morning, got up as a Chinese laundryman, Chaney boarded a Los Angeles trolley, deliberately courted a quarrel with the conductor and, after convincing himself that he was convincing in his part, soothed the ruffled streetcarman with a cigar...