Word: names
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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These are difficult questions, and I can't pretend to have an answer to them. However, I react strangely when I hear about the high school All-American hockey player who was just accepted with a 375 verbal SAT score (you get 200 points for signing your name). I don't feel good when I read about hallowed high school athletes who quickly succumb to the pressures of life off the field at Harvard. They withdraw from Cambridge, perhaps never to be heard from again. They come here thinking that it will somehow all fall into place for them...
...students who sang for the University Resources Committee in Agassiz that day probably got into Harvard for any number of reasons other than their acting or singing ability. But the high school kid who is tops in drama won't see his name bandied about in local newspaper headlines. The Boston Globe goes so far as to publish a list of Harvard's (and other area colleges') top high school "recruits" in football, basketball and hockey. But turn to the arts section of that same paper, and you won't find a list of orchestra recruits, acting recruits or singing...
...President Carter with a Steuben bowl for the President's efforts on behalf of country music. The award was recently created to honor people who make unique contributions to country music, and when the votes for the first recipient were counted, Carter was told, "lo and behold, your name led all the rest." Considering some of the other polls the President has been reading lately, that was sweet music indeed...
Kaufman's most familiar incarnation is also his most comforting, a benign extension of Foreign Man tailored for situation comedy and appearing weekly, under the name Latka Gravas, on ABC's smash sitcom Taxi. But Latka fans who sought out Kaufman at his frequent unscheduled appearances at comedy clubs or who checked out his recent concert at Manhattan's Carnegie Hall got something of a shock. Lovable Latka is there all right, but reduced to supporting status; his cute malapropisms ("America is a tough town") are cut entirely; only his accent, and the loony-tune vocabulary, remain...
Clad in his normal working garb of jeans, sneakers and a T shirt stenciled with the name of a local gym, Pat Jordan looks like the jocks he writes about. The similarity is purely deliberate. Jordan, son of Pasquale Giordano, went through a disastrous season as a professional baseball player and never quite got over it. At 38, he stays in shape by compulsively pumping iron twice a day. He keeps his psyche in trim by reminiscing with cronies in bars. "I make my social contacts there," says Jordan. "Writing is lonely. You have to get out and talk...