Word: shirts
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...precise moment when the play begins is indeterminable. The perspiring summer audience enters to face a stage empty save for stepladders, light fixtures, odds & ends of stage tackle. Men in shirt sleeves, girls in bathing suits walk about chattering, apparently oblivious of the spectators. The job of selecting a chorus begins. Mortality was high among the sketches when first-night critics had done with them. Even the old hide-the-lover-in-the-closet blackout is exhumed. Boisterously the audience laughs at a burlesque of the unctuous radio announcer. Of the songs, all donated by their authors, four promise...
...groping figure, lonely and desperate, fretful and feeble. Excerpts: "It explains a great deal about Herbert Hoover to learn that he was not a 'swimming hole kid.' . , . He is paying the price of drudgery and discipline. So is the American people. . . . He is our first hair shirt hero. . . . Mr. Hoover detests and dreads the mob. . . . His is a detailed, though somewhat disorderly mind. He gives off light, not heat. He is as dynamic as a 30-watt bulb. . . . He can work with underlings but not with equals. . . . Mr. Hoover was a promoter rather than a mining expert...
...strong and alert as ever, he received his callers in quiet. His , hair is slate grey, overhanging eyebrows almost black. His eyes are blue. Only their sparkle and the shrillness of his voice indicate his psychic tension. He wore an ordinary U. S. business suit, a while collar-attached shirt and a commonplace...
...true British Parliament, sat owlishly upon their benches, silent for the most part, but exclaiming murmurously from time to time, "Wring his neck. Hear, hear! Wring his neck. Hear, hear, hear!" Mr. Speaker, as a last resort, adjourned the sitting and departed, but still the panting, tugging, shirt-tearing, tie-mussing, hair-tousling tussle went...
...discipline. To all this he had added his priceless ingredient, that dash of nostalgia to make people say "Good old New York, good old Broadway, good old Follies." And as he stood in the back of the darkened theatre, tired but happy in his working clothes (grey suit, blue shirt), he heard his opening night audience say just that. Next day he heard the critics say it, unanimously, vociferously. And then the paying audiences began saying it every night, with burst after burst of glad applause, clink after clink of hard dollars...