Word: silver
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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What's your pleasure? A "steel pianist" who plays Beethoven's Für Elise on the cut-off top of a 55-gal. oil drum? Step right up. A conga drummer with a silver earring in one nostril and a red gem in the other, or a classical guitarist in top hat, tails and tennis shoes? Right this way. String quartets, punk rockers, brass quintets, bagpipers, country crooners, dixieland stompers, ad hoc duos of every string, woodwind and percussive persuasion? Just around the corner...
...inefficiencies that plague the nation's courts, TIME correspondents interviewed dozens of lawyers and judges across the country, including the studiously reclusive Chief Justice himself. Reports Washington Correspondent Doug Brew: "Chatting with Burger in a quiet corner of his office while he attentively pours coffee from a silver pot reveals an often overlooked human side of the man. He says he is astonished that there have not been more heart attacks among overworked judges, and his own tired, red-lidded eyes underscore the burdens of Justices in a way that words and papers never could...
With many of their betters competing at the National Sports Festival in Colorado Springs, the U.S. track and field team felt like cannon fodder. Yet the 35-member team brought back America's seven gold medals, including all three in the sprint relays. Gloated Benn Fields, silver-medalist in the high jump: "I'm tired of hearing what dogs...
...women's volleyball team established itself as a contender for gold or silver in 1980. After defeating the Ukraine volleyballers and upsetting the potent Moscow squad, the American women narrowly lost a grueling, five-game match to the Russian Federation, the Soviet national team. The American women live and practice together six days a week in Colorado Springs, under the auspices of the newly invigorated U.S. Volleyball Association. Mostly in their mid-20s, they have interrupted college, romances and careers to serve and spike. Said Janet Baier, 24, an aspiring cellist from St. Louis: "I can play the cello...
This summer we have a young man, Ray Dooley, clad in a silver body-stocking with ligamental cords running from arms to torso. Dooley moves with admirable lightness, assisted by John Morris' delicate flutes, harp and chimes. His speech, however, is erratic; and his discourse (in a harpy's disguise) to the villainous nobles is an almost total loss. In "Come unto these yellow sands," "Full fathom five," and "Where the bee sucks" Ariel has three of Shakespeare's loveliest lyrics; but Morris' supporting vocalists cannot hide the fact that Dooley is simply no singer. The yardstick for the role...