Word: tins
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Last June, the truncheons of 500 South African police beat down a native riot in Cato Manor, Durban's tin-roofed apartheid shantytown (four dead, 24 injured), and produced the kind of international story that the xenophobic South African government hates most to see in foreign print. Reading exported accounts of the riot, External Affairs Minister Eric Louw issued a threat of reprisal against "offending foreign newspaper correspondents who are not Union nationals." Last week. Louw's truncheon fell on a victim not only obscure but innocent. Peremptorily ousted from the Union of South Africa after eleven years...
...good publicity. Last week Chairman Horace Harold Corey sought to correct history. The chewy, watery product that wartime G.I.s damned as Spam was really a lower-grade concoction, made under Army specifications: no ham (Spam itself has 6%-8%), cheaper cuts of pork, longer cooking of meat in the tin so that ersatz Spam could withstand tropical heat or Arctic cold. Naturally, the product had a certain unforgettable stick-to-the-ribs quality that provided a unique gastronomical experience. But it should not have been confused with real Spam. To prove its difference, Hormel claims that "94% of all Americans...
...object-to kick off the new models with as much razzmatazz as $500,000 can buy. Four cars, manned by formation-driving chorus boys, run through an elephantine ballet as chorus girls dance an accompaniment on foot and on roller skates. And the songs are enough to make even Tin Pan Alley blush: / Could Have Danced All Night comes out: "Electra too, with colors new and thrilling-the richest fabrics you can see ..." The sell is so hard that it gongs like boiler plate. But it gets results. Salesmen and their quarry pack the house...
...instant recognition from the fans of such vintage Grey as Wild Horse Mesa and Riders of the Purple Sage. The prose clomps along on two-by-four stilts ("There was completed in his mind a resolve to go down into Idaho, when opportunity afforded"), and the dialogue echoes a tin-plated ear ("If you think I'm wonderful and if I think you're wonderful-it's all really very wonderful, isn't it?"). Instead of speaking their lines, characters "vouchsafe" them; they wash and shave in morning "ablutions." A well-adjusted cowpoke qualifies as "that...
Hollywood would not look twice at India's Lata Mangeshkar. Tin-Pan Alley might cover its ears. But last week plain little Lata, her hair braided in a pigtail, drove to one of Bombay's biggest movie studios, was ushered up to a mike, and the sweet, childish voice that struggles to rise above the accompaniment was nursed through its 6,000th recording. For 16 years, barefoot Lata has been putting on sound tracks the songs that Indian actresses fake when they appear on the screen. Now, at 29, she is the undisputed and indispensable queen of India...