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Audrey Buller Parsons is tall, hand some, brunette. Her husband is slender, grey-haired Lloyd Parsons, who paints landscapes. Both were born in Montreal, both paint in the same studio overlooking Manhattan's Washington Square...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: Clean, Opulent World | 5/11/1936 | See Source »

Professor Coolidge's famous bell tower has been adorned since the end of vacation with a long slender ladder. Many students, marvelling at the sight, have suspected that perhaps the mysterious House Party was more rambunctious than had been anticipated; have suspected that perhaps a search was going on for a watch or cigarette lighter which had been carelessly lost on the tower. The Lowell House janitor, however, assures the CRIMSON that nothing more serious than a broken weathervane is responsible...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Mysterious Ladder Adorns Lowell House Bell Tower | 4/8/1936 | See Source »

...Louvre, which shows a long-maned white horse drinking peacefully in a stream while in the background a nude Tahitian girl rides another horse back from the stream to the pasture, and The Call, now the property of Wildenstein & Co. in which three half-clad Tahitians stroll under slender trees against a dark tropical landscape...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: Broker to South Seas | 3/30/1936 | See Source »

Biggest of the big music names in Hollywood now is that of slender, raven-haired Irving Berlin, who wrote his first song 29 years ago when he was a singing waiter in a Bowery saloon. But cinema studios were turning out tunes by the gross long before the little dean of the Alley allied himself with pictures. Elaborate music departments sprang up in Hollywood in 1927 when sound films first came in. Hundreds of tunesmiths bummed their way West, found jobs overnight, collected huge salaries. After the first flood of musical films, deflation came fast, and there was a rush...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: Millworkers | 3/23/1936 | See Source »

Five years ago last month a slender, waxen-faced woman of 45 lay ill with pleurisy in a hotel room in The Hague. A sedative had been given to spare her pain. Quietly, as if entranced, she spoke to her maid: "Marguerite! My swan costume!" As if she were hearing an unseen orchestra, Anna Pavlova lifted her arms, fluttered her hands. "Play that last measure softly," she murmured. And before the world realized that she was seriously ill the great Russian dancer was dead...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: Immortal Swan | 3/2/1936 | See Source »

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