Word: singerly
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...South African Broadcasting Corp., a semi-official company under a race-conscious government, banned all recordings of Negro Actor-Singer Paul Robeson...
There was evidence last week of the palest smidgen of truth in what he said. It appeared that Frankie was unable to square his own dentist for a federal job. The gentleman, Dr. Charles L. Singer, had been nominated to run the U.S. Assay Office in New York City, a $7,432.20-a year job traditionally earmarked for Tammany. Dr. Singer was deserving: he had twice been an elector for Franklin Roosevelt. He also knew what gold was; he had filled teeth with it. He was elated: "Imagine! A presidential appointment announced at the White House. It is quite...
...assayer was all set for speedy Senate confirmation when anonymous letters began to trickle into Washington. All called attention to his prominent patient. New York's Republican Irving Ives suggested that the good dentist be looked into, after which point Dr. Singer announced that he was a very sick man, and didn't any longer want the job. Quietly, Harry Truman withdrew the nomination...
...weeks that followed, Preview steadied down into a sense-making 30 minutes, with the emphasis switched from news to guest stars. Last week, Preview took an editorial look at the phrasemaking of Winston Churchill. Then it turned quickly to such eye-catching items as the Katherine Dunham dancers, Singer Eugenie Baird, Cinemactor Kirk Douglas. It was a crisp, entertaining, fast-paced show, and its climbing Hooperating put it right up in the first ten. But it was no longer a news-reporting "magazine of the air." More & more, McCrary's Preview was beginning to look like that...
...Living. Even so, the rehearsal was far from grumpless; if it had been, it wouldn't have been a Toscanini rehearsal or resulted in a Toscanini performance. Once, when a singer yelped on an entrance, the tireless little tyrant roared in his hoarse, drama-ridden voice: "No! NO!" then stood speechless, slapping his leg with his baton, trying to suppress what he calls his "bad character." Once, dripping-wet in his black alpaca rehearsal coat, the maestro stopped the brassy triumphal march: "No! Not for the dead. For the living, for the living...