Word: tates
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Imagination & Execution. Democratic Mayor James H. J. Tate, 57, a courtly Irishman with the instincts of a machine gunner, won in 1963 on the strength of Negro support. His obstinate opposition to neighborhood control of poverty funds turned both Washington and the Negro community against him. It also brought out the fighting instincts of City Controller Alexander Hemphill, 45, who will oppose Tate in the primary. Says N.A.A.C.P. Leader Cecil B. Moore, himself running for mayor as an independent: "Tate will be retired to the position he's best qualified for: cesspool attendant...
London's Tate Gallery owns more Henry Moores than any other museum -about 50 pieces in all. But, like the works of Britain's foremost living sculptor, the Tate's Moore collection also has a number of holes. Moore, who has always had "a soft spot" for the Tate, has saved a copy of every work he has done since 1949. He has long planned a gift of 20 or 30 pieces-worth, at current market prices, between $2,000,000 and $3,000,000-to provide a complete cross-section of his life work...
...same, when word of the intended bequest leaked to London's Sunday Telegraph last week, the Tate was embarrassed. Moore wants to be certain that his works can be publicly displayed, but the gallery still needs to raise $2,100,000 for a new wing. Nonetheless, Moore plans to announce an itemized gift list next year on his 70th birthday. "If the gallery puts up a special wing with a complete unity of its own, I shall be pleased," he said, adding: "But I am not laying down any conditions...
Dudley, Fitts says in his introduction that his first note on Tate's manuscript was "a robust amused declarative style." This is a reasonable first impression. Tate has created graceful balances with the potentially disastrous load of fact his senses yield him; and he has done it largely by virtue of his metaphorical muscle. His rhythms and his syntax tend to confirm the analogies he suggests, Thus, in "Pastoral Scene...
...that his rhythm and such even begin to account for Tate's power. He is master of the mot juste. "Epithalamion for Tyler" honors a friend woh has sewn a pig's ear to his sofa, and with it has "spirited" talks; no other word could have attributed to the friend the same aspect of intelligent playfulness. Then, too, Tate never dulls our brains or arouses our distrust by "poeticism," by obsolete ploys. He even lampoons such lapses of tact, as he prepares to hit us: with some genuine midcentury currency, as in, "The Cages...