Word: singe
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1940-1949
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...boss (at$20,000 a year) of the A.F.L. International Longshoremen's Association. Some of the hoods hold cards in the union and go to big dinners for Joe. Joe is touched by this: "Some of the boys from the old ladies' home up the river [i.e., Sing Sing] . . . came down to the waterfront and made good," said he recently. "I'm proud to have my picture taken with them and proud to be in their company." In this cozy setup, John M. ("Cockeye") Dunn was a big man. He didn't belong to Joe Ryan...
...Cockeye, Squint and Gentile were convicted of the murder a year later. For months, they sat in the death house at Sing Sing while their lawyers battled up to New York's highest court. Then Squint Sheridan sent down word that he was ready to sing. Dunn and Gentile, he swore, had had nothing to do with the killing; he alone had planned it. It had been carried out by two men, but one of them was dead now and the other was not to be found...
...quartet Little Louis was a tenor, but his ambition in 1913 was to sing bass. His change of mind began one New Year's Eve, when he was twelve. To celebrate, he had hauled his father's old .38 revolver out to the street and fired it off. He was picked up and taken to juvenile court where, he remembers, the magistrate told him that while he wasn't a bad boy he might get to be one if he kept playing around Perdido Street at night. Louis was packed off to ihe Colored Waif...
...Welitsch bounced into rehearsal, singers and musicians alike picked up more glow. Actress as well as singer, she seemed to know how Strauss's libidinous, necrophilic Salome (based on Oscar Wilde's play) should be portrayed. Says Welitsch with rapid gestures to head, heart and torso: "To sing Salome, you have to have something-here and here and here...
Beer & Beef. Thirteen years ago, burly Frankie Laine was singing for beer and beef at the Stamford (Conn.) German Club; for half a dozen years before, he had been an unnoticed mediocrity on the soggy-ballad circuit around Chicago nightclubs. He had given up singing for selling cars, songwriting (It Only Happens Once) and, during the war, defense work. But, says Frankie, the son of a Chicago barber, "I couldn't stay away from it long . . . I hadda get up in front and sing." In 1946, he made only $2,000 at it. Then things began to happen...