Word: spent
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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According to Kenneth Tynan, the English dramatic critic who spent last weekend as a visiting lion at Winthrop House, a critic's specific opinions are less important than the attitudes that underlie them. In Tynan's case, private conversation reinforces the impression given by his articles in the New Yorker, where he is guest critic, that his basic attitude toward the theatre is a deeply serious one. In a profession populated largely by somnambulistic hacks, his Shavian emphasis on the relation of drama to life is rare and valuable. But his seriousness never declines into solemnity; his awareness...
...just a ten-year-old in Penns Grove, N.J. when he set his mind on becoming Tarzan-or a movieland version of him. Hanging ropes from the tallest trees around, he spent hours swinging from tree to tree. As he grew up, he even began to look the part-tall, dark and handsome, with awesomely muscled arms and shoulders. At Villanova University, Don Bragg neglected rope swinging for pole vaulting, flew so high, despite his hefty 200 Ibs.. that two months ago he set the world's indoor record of 15 ft. 9½ in. But Bragg remained...
...mile trip into the tropical jungle. There he came face to face with a towering, vine-festooned tree. "Isn't this fabulous, Daddy!" he cried, and heaved himself aloft up a 60-ft. vine. Wearing a varihued. skirtlike Tahitian pareu that he fancies, Bragg spent a happy hour emitting Tarzan yells and swinging from branch to branch. "This is why I came to Africa," cried Bragg. "I could go on for days...
...curator of one of the world's most unusual museums, devoted solely to war and its bulky artifacts. As other pack rats yearn for stamps, china cygnets, or shrunken human heads, De Henriquez cherishes the debris of the battlefield. Over five decades Collector de Henriquez has spent $12 million of his own money amassing some 100,000 items, ranging from Stone Age spears to Jet Age missiles, from medieval Japanese muskets to Italian army glockenspiels...
...spry, white-maned humorist in the white suit. Involuntary tremors ripple the stiffened fingers, the lower jaw nibbles spasmodically at wisps of tobacco-stained mustache, the shoulders twitch like marionettes in the invisible hands of time. But a pagan glint of eye suggests that this is a life less spent than well spent. Then the voice, cracked but not ruined, speaks, and the evening begins showering comic sparks...