Word: throbs
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Under the long, lemon-tinted gown and the towering headdress of aigrette plumes, the tall, tawny body is heavier now. The warm eyes seem smaller, softer, in a face fleshed with age. But the quick, bright smile is as vivid as ever; the remembered throb of her voice still husks the rafters-a rising, clear-toned shout. At 53, Josephine Baker, the supple emigre from St. Louis who sailed into the heart of Paris on the high old tides of the '20s, is still a top banana of the boulevards. It is three years since her last "retirement...
...throb of skin drums mingled with" the high-pitched, cacophonous music of steel-stringed gourds. Fires flickered in every direction under great cauldrons simmering with a beef stew made from 14 cows and oxen. The village of Mahusekwa in Southern Rhodesia's Chiota reserve, only an hour's drive from bustling, modern Salisbury, made ready to crown a King...
Pothered by an ache in the jawbone, weedy Pianist Van Cliburn dropped in on a Tucson dentist for some overdue drilling, canceled all concerts until the throb in his ivories dwindled to a pianissimo. Mumbled Van, his gift for hyperbole undiminished: "I'm thrilled to death it happened here, in the land...
...after Congress voted to make Alaska the 49th state, TIME also made a decision: open an Alaska bureau. Onto the masthead this week goes the new listing, ANCHORAGE, 18th TIME bureau in North America. To report Alaska's "stir and throb that reaches far beyond the cities, into the tundra, across the forbidding mountains and glaciers into the valleys" (TIME, June 9), Bill Smith. 28, a spring-legged, outdoor-loving correspondent in our Los Angeles bureau, moved up to Anchorage. From his base in Alaska's busiest city (pop. 35,000), Bachelor Smith will roam the new state...
Alaska has a stir and a throb that reaches far beyond the cities, into the tundra, across the forbidding mountains and glaciers, into the valleys. For most Alaskans, each day is a dare, each night a doubtful victory. Territorial Police Superintendent Bob Brandt's meager force of uniformed police and U.S. deputy marshals patrol the vastnesses in planes, helicopters and on dog sleds, alert for signs of old trappers who sometimes die on the trail and are eaten by their dogs; for pillagers who ransack the remote cabins, where a food cache is a guarantee of life...