Word: russianize
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Last week a twinkling-eyed, eccentric little man arrived at Paris and was greeted by a sprinkling of Russian Communists, a lone detective and an official of the French Foreign Office. Long after his train drew in, the little man remained seated in his compartment. When the crowd of travelers had quite cleared away, he stepped nimbly forth and was whirled away to a secret conference with M. Herriot and M. Briand, who were engaged at the moment chiefly in deciding which, if either of them, should be the next Premier of France (see FRANCE, p. 11.) The shabby, bright...
When a Bishop of the Russian Orthodox Church was deposited some months ago, screaming and kicking, on a Manhattan sidewalk, the police and the public had reason to know that holiness and tranquillity had, for the time being, parted company. The Bishop was John S. Kedrovsky. He had asserted that he was Archbishop of his church in North America, and hence presiding prelate of the Cathedral of St. Nicholas, Manhattan. He had with him papers from Russia to prove it. It was in an effort to make clear his position to Platon, the temporary Archbishop, that he had suffered...
Meanwhile John S. Kedrovsky was living quietly in Hartford, Conn., and his suit was filtering slowly through wadded files of legal red tape. Last week it trickled into the attention of the New York Appellate Court, which declared that there was no doubt of his authorization by the Holy Russian Synod. Accordingly, the court reinstated him and declared that the claims of bellowing Bishop Adam, Plaintiff Platon, and all other Russian-American archbishops, were null, void. Said Kedrovsky's lawyer...
...place of Stanislavski's love of local color, the heavy Russian atmosphere so thick you can cut it with a knife, Evreinov tries to give us an international, a universal theatre that will appeal alike to all manners and races of men. In place of the realistic this Nicolai Nicolaevich would give us, the theatre frankly theatrical...
...still play fantastically upon every mood. Like the Spanish dramatist, Benavente, he had followed the circus in his youth and still knows how to give his audience circuses as well as bread. The slendor boy who at the age of thirteen had performed as an equillbrist in the little Russian village circus had grown up into the man of forty-six who still holds our attention fixed as he delicately keeps his balance between the real and the make-believe. Up to the last he keeps us in suspense, guessing upon which side his play will fall...