Word: wax
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Lanky Eddie Gall, traffic cop at Dearborn and Madison, rubbed his big bass drum with glass wax. Ed Roubik, warehouse foreman, licked the mouthpiece of his ebony musette pipe and squealed a few notes. Hefty Morton H. Petrie, salesman for a candy company, strapped on his whip drum and knocked off a couple of tiddybums, tiddybums. Shrieking pipes and throbbing drums in the hands of 60 middle-aged musicians swung informally into The Hootchy-Kootchy, Little Egypt's tune at the 1893 World's Fair...
From the outside, the Beauregard grammar school on busy Canal Street seems as antiquated and drab as any. Inside, its floors gleam with wax polish; its walls are freshly washed. Built for 500 pupils, it expects to house 650 this fall; last year it had to turn down 300 applicants from other parts of the city. The man responsible for Beauregard's high regard is 33-year-old Principal Joseph Salvador Schwertz...
...Daughter (see CINEMA), that he was doing for MGM. Spotting it as a natural, record companies put their best boy-&-girl teams to recording it. First with the best: Dinah Shore and Buddy Clark (Columbia), Margaret Whiting and Johnny Mercer (Capitol). Mercury even got Frank and Lynn Loesser on wax. MGM, which peddles records as well as motion pictures, and originally had the inside track on Baby, was left at the post and lamely put out a record of the song from the film's soundtrack...
...done on eggs. A girl technician examines a fertile egg under a strong light, finds the developing embryo, and cuts a square hole in the shell above it. She plants a bit of cancer on the embryo, and seals the hole with a glass window stuck on with wax. The egg is put in an incubator. As the embryo grows, the cancer grows too. The embryo's blood vessels turn aside to supply the cancer, which frequently grows until it is nearly as big as the chick. Drugs are tested by injecting them into the egg yolk, and noting...
Perfection. To Landowska, "this is my last will and testament. I have to make it perfect." She was taking plenty of time to make it that way-to make sure that exactly the balance and quality she wanted to hear would come off the wax. In her weekly sessions, she had worked 42 hours, making retake after retake, to record 45 minutes of music. At 70 (her birthday is actually July 5), the somewhat mystic, sometimes earthy little Polish-born woman is the acknowledged high priestess of the harpsichord, the sweet-sounding, twangy-bangy instrument she rescued from oblivion...