Word: shadower
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...next emer-gency. Welles was aces at this game. He needn?t spend months reimagining a play script, or weeks in rehearsal; he could do the shows in what passed for spare time in his life. And he could be anyone: Canadian quints or, his most famous characterization, The Shadow, asking, "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?" and laughing with a maniacal sonorousness that winked at the listeners or frightened them. Welles loved radio; it loved him back, whatever the cost, whoever he was playing that week. As Thomson notes, "radio became the staple of Welles...
...time was filled with them. The Mercury got $50,000 for the nine hours, from which it was to pay the cast and the staff, except for Herrmann and the musicians. But Welles wasn?t in it for the money; he?d already made money as The Shadow. No: he thought it would be fun to run a radio show...
...usual, Aaliyah arrived dressed all in black. She liked to cloak herself in shadow and secrecy, like a latter-day Greta Garbo. She was born in Brooklyn and raised in Detroit (real name: Aaliyah Haughton). When she released her first album, "Age Ain't Nothing But a Number" back in 1994, she was given to wearing sunglasses in most of her photo shoots and public appearances. Later, she took to sweeping her long black hair in front of one eye, a la Veronica Lake. You could never get a good look at her face, never get a good read...
...American village a month after the incident, a matsuri (festival) is in full swing. Children wave cotton candy and scoop at goldfish with paper nets. Shirtless skateboarders do stunts on an open walkway. Women in shorts and bikini tops lick at jewel-colored snow cones. In the shadow of a giant Ferris wheel with a Coca-Cola logo and a two-story emporium called the American Depot march a cavalry of drum-banging young Japanese men. They're sweating through their traditional Okinawan outfits of purple bandannas and swinging orange coats...
Last summer, as I walked through the Yard each morning on my way to work, I promised myself that I’d spend the next summer abroad. I had visions of casually sipping cappuccino under the shadow of Notre Dame or strolling along the Thames. Instead, each day I walk from my Dewolfe Street apartment to Widener Library...