Word: trots
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Having a Wild Weekend is the Dave Clark Five's hectic attempt to trot in the Beatles' cinematic footsteps. If they, in turn, are going to be followed by the Rolling Stones, the Animals, and the other rock-a-pop groups with Beatle haircuts, this new vague may well be the most depressing thing to happen in darkened theaters since Follow-the-Bouncing-Ball...
Little Compensations. The trouble with being a hero is living up to it, which for Clark means living on a dead trot. After his triumphant win at Clermont-Ferrand last week, Jim flew directly to London, spent most of a day processing requests for autographed photographs from U.S. fans. Then it was off to Reims for a business appointment, back to England for a day of test driving at Silverstone, and back to Reims again-this time to practice for a July 4 Formula II race. Ahead on the schedule: a Ford junket to Switzerland, a race in Britain...
...with so few words. Protectively accompanied by diplomats and her lady in waiting, Denmark's tall (5 ft. 8 in.) Princess Benedikte, 21, whirled through a hectic six-day goodwill visit -her first trip to the U.S. At a ball celebrating Danish Week, she danced a quiet fox trot with her honor guard of four West Point cadets, and looked unflustered when she turned out to be taller than her official escort, Carl Michaelsen, president of the Danish American Society, Inc. Through it all she smoked filter-tip cigarettes, showed off a high-fashion wardrobe that she herself helped...
...Nikita must have sensed the irony in the fact that the Kremlin chose last week as the time to trot him out for his first public appearance since his ouster. Western newsmen were tipped off in advance that Nikita would be available for all to see at a Moscow polling place not a mile from the Kremlin. Sure enough, up wheeled a chauffeured car, and out hopped the familiar figure-not quite as pudgy, not quite as ebullient-but undeniably Nikita Khrushchev. Eager Soviet citizens and reporters swarmed around him, anxious to know how he felt. "I feel just like...
...Fred Allen's old radio show). Some of the gags and sketches and disasters are effective. A few are pretty funny. Almost none are new material, and the reader soon begins to feel the kind of embarrassment reserved for tired, middle-aged vaudeville performers who try to jog-trot up to the microphone with the spring of real youth...