Word: vienna
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...some were sent to concentration camps; one was beheaded, in 1942. A few of us got away. One turned Nazi. I stuck it out for about four months. One day, on the way home, I was stopped by a friend who gave me a toothbrush and a ticket to Vienna, telling me that the Gestapo was in my apartment and just to beat it. The next day I was in Vienna...
...order to earn my living I became a permanent contributor of articles and illustrations to the Tag and Stunde, the only democratic papers left in town. In 1938 the Nazis came. To my early Berlin sins were added all the anti-Hitler newspaper work I had done in Vienna, and I had to go into hiding. The dominant thought of all of us hunted for political, racial, or both reasons, was to get out. Under the quota I would have to wait two years to get my U.S. immigration visa. Meanwhile, the problem was to keep alive and away from...
...Vienna, where they don't care for machines anyway, the Socialist Arbeiterzeitung declared: "His creation, the production line . . . reminds us of Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times, which showed the ridiculous and tragic power of Fordismus over man. . . . Thus Ford was not a friend but an enemy of the worker...
Forty years ago Erich's family & friends thought he might be a new Mozart. He had one of Mozart's names, the same precocity, and a gift for melody. His ballet (The Snowman), composed when he was eleven, was produced in Vienna two years later. Before he was 20 he had written two operas. The Dead City, written at 23, won him fame throughout Europe, and a new star, Maria Jeritza, introduced it at Manhattan's Metropolitan...
Nowadays, the Dollar Princess has been supplanted by a set of far more complex characters, chief among them Kitty Duval, the poetic prostitute in Saroyan's The Time of Your Life. Baffled Vienna listened to her megalophilic yearnings: "I like champagne, and . . . big houses with big porches, and big rooms with big windows, and big lawns, and big trees, and flowers . . . and big shepherd dogs sleeping in the shade." Wrote one critic: "What does he want, this Saroyan? If he did not live so far away, in San Francisco, I would go and ask him." But Viennese crowded...