Word: pelle
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Last week onetime Champion Du Bois, now Mrs. Richard V. Pell, finished seventh, with a score of 184 (95-89). "She did marvelously well," chirped her cronies, explaining that 200-lb., thrice-married Leila Cruikshank Stockton Du Bois Pell, now 58, and more interested in showing dachshunds than playing golf, had not touched a club in two months...
...make credible the violent agonies of an inchoate young peasant priest on the way to sainthood. At their first climax young Father Donnisan contends with Satan face to face and conquers him; at their second, the same night, he meets the young girl, so shatters her that she retreats pell-mell to Satan, cuts her throat. The priest is locked up as a madman. Later he is given an obscure parish...
...nothing did she enjoy such un-Shavian homage. A dark, passionate beauty with Italian blood in her veins, she reputedly inspired Burne-Jones to paint, and Kipling to write. The Vampire. In her prime-when she played The Second Mrs.Tanqueray, Magda, Romeo and Juliet, Pelléas and Mélisande-she shared honors with Bernhardt, Duse, Ellen Terry. She knew everybody in England, from Oscar Wilde to Edward VII. She was fearless and formidable, a woman who shared her love letters with the world, who had atrocious manners but a superb air, and a wit that Shaw himself might...
Last week Manhattan's Metropolitan Opera "revived" Pelleas for the first time since 1935 (when Edward Johnson, now the Met's manager, sang it with Lucrezia Bori, now retired). For Pelléas, the Metropolitan had engaged a young (36), slim-legged, personable French tenor, Georges Cathelat, a friend of old (77) Maeterlinck who joined the Opera Comique in 1931. Today France's best Pelleas, Cathelat was released from his wartime job in the censor's office at the behest of U. S. Ambassador Bullitt...
...these thoughts flashed pell-mell through 75,000 minds, the thudding hoofs were coming closer. By the grandstand they flashed: Austin Taylor's Whichcee in front, Seabiscuit half a length behind. Rounding into the backstretch, the old trouper kept up with Whichcee's swift pace. Down the long stretch, silhouetted against the purple Sierra Madres, the Biscuit seemed glued to Whichcee's tail. Louder & louder the crowd roared as they seesawed coming into the homestretch-Seabiscuit nosing in front, then falling back, then in front again. Approaching the grandstands, Red Pollard flipped his whip and the Biscuit...