Word: ventriloquists
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Beauty contestants should be seen and not heard. But not the new Miss America, who is a ventriloquist and thus has two voices. The night she reached the finals, Vonda Kay Van Dyke, 21, of Phoenix, chirruped: "Barry Goldwater, here I come!" But once the crown was in place, she became a benign queen, and said: "I think the President is our greatest man." Then she was off for a series of nationwide appearances that will earn her $75,000, in addition to the $11,000 in scholarships she will use next fall at the State University. The other girls...
...patrons and businessmen. It has prospered nicely ever since, under its lazy-going motto, "Weaving Spiders Come Not Here." Today among its 1.950 members are, besides a collection of little-known but influential people, such diversified types as Henry Ford II, former President Hoover, Bing Crosby, Richard Nixon, Ventriloquist Edgar Bergen, Chief Justice Earl Warren, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Lucius Clay, retired General Albert Wedemeyer (Barry's host), former Defense Secretary Neil McElroy, and Old Aviator Jimmy Doolittle. There is al ways an eager waiting list of at least 850-and some people wait 15 years before they...
...belted out the line, "What could I do but drop down dead if I lost my chastity?" All evening, as she read, Richard's foster father sat behind her mouthing every word she said. He was just afraid she would make a mistake, but he looked like a ventriloquist...
...when he said that women as a sex are "sphinxes without secrets." Son (Michael Burns) is a TV idiot, who blinks like a mole in daylight. Daughter (Lauri Peters), upset by her teeth braces, keeps her face knotted in such a wooden expression that she could pass for a ventriloquist's dummy. It would be better if these people had never met, but in this family-situation formula comedy they have...
Down There on a Visit is the best work this prim, prickly near mystic has done in years. Like all of Isherwood's books, it is coyly set in the form of autobiography-but-not-really; its narrator, as usual, is a ventriloquist's dummy named Christopher Isherwood whose surface sometimes seems faintly warm. Characteristically, there is too little fiction for a novel, too little truth for autobiography. Yet in his cagey, canny way, the author has written an engaging work of self-revelation...