Word: towards
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Corriere are three aging, textile-millionaire Crespi brothers (Mario, 78, Aldo, 73, Vittorio, 62). The Crespis, who took control of the paper when Albertini left, say that their only interest in Corriere is "to maintain its high traditions." Among the traditions: good pay, short hours, and a respectful attitude toward newsmen* that is unique on Italy's mass-circulation dailies. Says one editor: "We trust our men completely. The byline is sacred...
...Louis XIV looked with favor upon the artists of France, Paris has been the capital of the world of art. Great art revolutions spilled out of Paris; great art masters stormed the barricades there, ruled as tastemakers for more than two centuries. In mid-20th century, with France drifting toward ever lesser status as a world power, how does the Ecole de Paris stand...
Away from the chessboard, Bobby barely tolerates the world around him. An indifferent sophomore at Brooklyn's Erasmus Hall High, he professes a certain interest in astronomy, prehistoric animals, hypnotism-"all that sort of stuff"-but admits to no urge toward higher education or any aspiration but more chess. To the annoyance of his sponsors at the Manhattan Chess Club, he has turned up his nose at the club tournament. Now that he is in the big time, Bobby can't be bothered. Winning the U.S. title makes him eligible for the interzonal finals this summer in Yugoslavia...
Praise & Blame. Conductors Ormandy and Reiner are as different in personality as they are in artistic approach. Ormandy maintains a casual attitude toward his men, is quick to praise and slow to blame, has been known to accept suggestions from visiting soloists. Reiner is as tough on visiting artists (a current bitter antagonist: Artur Rubinstein) as on his own men. He rarely forgives an error. When annoyed, he is apt to reduce his always small beat even further, which once prompted a cellist to bring a telescope to rehearsal ("I'm looking for the beat," he explained). "To Reiner...
...mountain village of Bellapaix. Under "the Tree of Idleness" in the village square, the town greybeards sipped Turkish coffee and played a sempiternal game of cards. To Durrell's knowledge no one ever died, and the town gravedigger had to eke out a living digging cesspits. Each day toward twilight, a dozen cattle burst across the main street at racehorse pace, urged on by a bearded Hercules. He looked "like some dispossessed character from the Homeric cycle, who had yoked the oxen...