Word: sobbed
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...with passionate disorganization: breaks between acts stretched out to 45 minutes, while bumps, crashes and muffled Italian curses were heard through the curtain. The productions themselves often recalled the bad old days when tempos dawdled indulgently, singers postured in front of improbable sets and acting was of the clutch-sob-and-stagger school. But by sticking to the 19th century Italian repertory and putting it over with some splendidly full-throated singing, the company also evoked the good old days, when Verdi and Puccini called La Scala home, when such singers as Enrico Caruso and Adelina Patti blossomed there...
...carries a nostalgic note that surfaces in an unexpected frame of reference. Like ART'S recollection of the sad night in May, 1925, in the old Madison Square Garden, which was about to be demolished. There was Boxing Announcer Joe Humphreys, bellowing at the crowd with a genuine sob in his voice, delivering an ode to the Garden and the gilded copper nude that stood atop it: "Farewell to thee, O Temple of Fistiana, farewell to thee, O sweet Miss Diana...
...Sob in each blood cell...
Ironically, as her career skyrocketed, the specter of Piaf gradually became a restricting influence. Mireille wanted to develop her own style. Actually, though the similarities in intonation are unmistakable, Mireille's budding voice has little of the bittersweet pathos and built-in sob that endeared Piaf to generations of Frenchmen. When Maurice Chevalier heard 19-year-old Mireille sing a few months ago, he counseled: "You are young, pretty, and your success has made you happy. You should not sing unhappy, tortured songs. Sing on the sunny side of the street." And so she has, trading in her black...
...cobbled lanes of Warsaw's "Old Town" clad in ankle-length leather overcoats. The taxi fleet of Budapest is made up largely of Russian Pobedas, whose grillwork and lumpy chassis resemble those of ancient Plymouths. In the faded plush elegance of Bucharest's Athenee Palace Hotel, violins sob Wien, Wien, Nur Du Allein with a sentimentality unmatched since Grand Hotel. More than 300,000 Westerners made Hungary their destination; there they dined on goose liver sautéed in butter at Gundel's, or listened to an Eddy Duchin-like piano at the Pipacs (pronounced Peapatch) nightclub...