Word: skirting
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...indiscretions, overdoing the broadest points, throwing away the few finer ones. Sylvia Stahlman (Eurydice) had the prettiest voice, at its best in The Old Time Religion ("Bacchus my king, O let's be romantic"), and Hiram Sherman (Jupiter) hammed his part happily, right down to losing his hula skirt. Musico-medienne Paula Laurence was the most professional of all as Miss P. (for Public) Opinion, "a vestal virgin with a bachelor's degree." Her message: break as many commandments as you please, except for "Thou shalt not be found out." But the audience easily found out Librettist Bentley...
...Kefauver assistant: "It's like pulling a fly off flypaper." Even Nancy Kefauver has her tale of woe. Campaigning with Estes one time, she stepped from a plane to face a howling wind and the prop wash of several other planes. Nancy's hat was imperiled, her skirt began to balloon. Says she: "Just as I grabbed for the hat with one hand and for the skirt with the other, an eager, friendly crowd swarmed up to greet us. Someone thrust at me the usual welcoming bouquet, which I, not being endowed with three hands, frantically considered gripping...
Behind such gobbledygook was an apparent desire to sweeten the educational pill. One possible way for the "nonproductive" intellectual to skirt the quota system: by enlistment for a two-year tour of duty in the East German army...
...scene is a suburban English pub, and two middle-aged ladies named Margaret and Jill are having a quiet chat. Suddenly, a bitter accusation flashes above the gin. Margaret, hiking her skirt, declares that Jill has brought a flea into her life. It seems that the flea-not an "ordinary" London one but "some great black foreign brute"-sprang from Jill onto Margaret. But why was Jill harboring the flea in the first place? Because a young sailor had given it to her-not intentionally, of course, but because he and Jill went to bed together...
Snipping gleefully at skirt-lengths of the past, Graves maintains that "the whole period between, say, Marvell and Blake was poetically barren." The two greats of the period, Dryden and Pope, he mercilessly unwigs: "[Dryden] earned the doubtful glory of having found English poetry brick and left it marble-native brick, imported marble." And Pope was a "sedulous ape." The 19th century fares little better. Wordsworth, according to Graves, "disowned and betrayed his Muse. Tennyson never had one, except Arthur Hallam, and a Muse does not wear whiskers...