Word: soberly
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Without Hurry. In West Germany, the enthusiasm that had been strangely missing when the country got its sovereignty six weeks ago now burst forth. Adenauer was the hero of the hour. Visions of a united Germany danced before the eyes of the hopeful; the most sober took pride in this acknowledgment of their young nation's stature. The best the Socialists, thoroughly confounded, could do was demand that the Chancellor fly right off to Moscow before the Big Four talks in July...
...reference to Rockwell, one of the best living magazine illustrators, points up a side of his own work which draws sneers from younger, advance-guard painters. Illustration is anecdotal, as Hopper's art is not; he avoids cute touches and tells no story. Yet because his sober realism is as different from the abstractionism now in fashion as it is from straight illustration, some abstractionists dismiss him as a mere illustrator. His pictures lack "paint quality," they say, and indeed he does lay paint on canvas as dryly and flatly as any calendar painter. But Hopper's purpose...
Italy's Presidents, like other European Presidents, are expected to deliver harmless inaugural speeches in favor of orderly government and sober living. But last week newly elected President Giovanni Gronchi, Catholic advocate of the "opening to the Left," startled Italy's assembled legislators by delivering a rousing political inaugural that plainly pleased the Communists more than his own party, the Christian Democrats...
Prodigal gets off winging as fun-loving Micah (Edmund Purdom) and sober-minded brother Joram (John Dehner) come galloping hell-for-leather down the main street of Joppa; with true Hollywood ingenuity, they are using stirrups a good 600 years before they were invented. Despite his Old Testament beard and striped gown, Micah leaves no doubt as to his Anglo-Saxon manliness. Before a moviegoer can say popcorn, he has unhorsed a villainous overseer and released from bondage a mistreated slave; later on, he triumphs in a religious disputation with some rascally heathens by a solid right...
Sivard was raised in The Bronx and Long Island, trained as a commercial illustrator. He has worked for magazines and advertising agencies, is now a consultant with the U.S. Information Agency in Washington. A lean and sober-seeming man, he views the world through thick, tortoise-shell spectacles and finds it full of pleasant humor. If his spectacles have a rosy tinge, so do his canvases, which sparkle with the refreshing tingle of a spring day in Paris...