Word: salooners
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...what I like, and I like naked women," insisted Impresario Alain Bernardin, who was host at a 25th anniversary celebration for his Paris nightspot, the Crazy Horse Saloon. On hand was Choreographer George Balanchine, who came to France to watch his Ravel ballets at the Paris Opera. Said the appreciative Balanchine after surveying the legwork of Bernardin's 18 dancing show girls: "You ought to lend some of your ideas to the opera...
...buildings, shopping centers, oilfields, banks and a funeral home. Satisfied with his stake, he returned to politics at a higher level. In 1970 he challenged incumbent Senator Ralph Yarborough, a liberal folk hero. The primary contest was grimy even by Texas standards, the candidates swapping insults worthy of a saloon brawl. With the backing of Lyndon Johnson, John Connally and the Texas political-financial establishment, Bentsen scored an upset victory. That fall he defeated Republican George Bush, now chief of the U.S. liaison office in Peking...
...History of Jazz, makes a convincing case for the European march as a source of the rag. A typical Joplin rag has a disciplined arrangement of repeats and returns not unlike that of the march, and a similar duple tune signature. Jazz probably got its start, Schuller believes, when saloon pianists who could not read music began improvising rags they had heard...
...Time of Your Life, by William Saroyan, is a journey back to October, 1939--one that is sometimes sentimental, but nearly always absorbing. One character after another wanders in to Nick's Pacific Street Saloon, Restaurant and Entertainment Palace, each with his or her own memories, hopes, disappointments, etc. The play is certainly dated, but that's part of its charm. And this production sets the right tone, with a set that could serve as a museum model for a down-and-out bar in 1939. At the Loeb tonight and tomorrow and Monday through Saturday at 8 p.m., except...
...directs us over to Gardiner for a beer before heading back to Tower. The saloon's a wooden affair with a long, running mirror behind the bar, a couple of pool tables, and two poker tables in the rear. The dance hall is locked. Only a dozen people are in the joint. All are kids: a blurry-faced, rumpled Italian from Boston; a buck shouldered mama in a Porsche tee-shirt giving a two-handed thigh clasp to slit-eyed tough with TKO'ed reflexes; a plump little blonde in a too-tight girdle and high, cut jeans...