Word: slow
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Park, and major-league scouts were nosing about. Rocky quit high school ("baseball was the only thing I really cared about") and waited to be courted. Yankee Stadium was just a couple of miles away, and Colavito idolized Joe DiMaggio. But the Yankee scouts fretted so long about his slow running (he has inverted arches) that Cleveland got him for a cut-rate $3,000 bonus...
...soft behind real tears as the lights go down: "Only yesterday, when the world was young . . ." Whatever the tempo, Tin-Pan or torchy, the songs of Felicia Sanders throb with a strange, sinewy vitality in the basement's air-cooled dark. The mikes and the speakers and the slow-changing spotlights are superfluous. When Felicia sings, the silence beyond the stage is the silence of rapt attention. The clink of glasses stops, the convivial chatter dies and, for a little while, Greenwich Village's Bon Soir nightclub belongs...
...seemed like I free-fell an eternity. All this time I had this keen desire to pull the ripcord. I had to keep telling myself, 'If you do, you'll slow down and freeze to death or die from lack of oxygen.' Just as I was considering pulling the cord, I felt a shock. I looked up to see the chute. All I could see was cloud. But I could tell from pulling on the risers that I had a good chute...
Perhaps because Khrushchev has ordered a Communist go-slow in Iraq, in the hope of gains elsewhere, or perhaps because the Communists are not strong enough at the moment to challenge Kassem, Iraq was treated last week to the spectacle of militant Communists in retreat, beating their breasts and confessing their sins in old-style Stalinist selfcriticism. In an emergency session, proclaimed the party newspaper Ittihad al Shaab, the "enlarged" Communist Central Committee had condemned "individual leaders" for their "criminal acts, emotionalism and miscalculation...
...bathtub. Now Columbia Records' Mitch Miller is trying to lure him out from behind his shower curtain. Miller, a now inaudible oboist who is nonplaying captain of Columbia's pop musicians, worked up a gimmick just corny enough to click: a chorus of 28 men singing simple, slow arrangements of the old, golden songs, and an album-jacket invitation to listeners to join in the schmalz...