Word: woollcott
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...sophisticates last week clucked over a new tidbit about Alexander Woollcott, roly-poly chatterbox of The New Yorker. According to the New York World-Telegram, Mr. Woollcott was out of The New Yorker, ostensibly because the editors disapproved of ribald anecdotes with which he had lately spiced his "Shouts & Murmurs" page...
...report was half true. Woollcott was out, not for bawdry but for fatigue. His weekly radio broadcast, on top of his weekly New Yorker gossip articles, made a severe regimen for anyone as sedentary as Mr. Woollcott. Editor Harold Ross of The New Yorker proposed that he reduce his contributions to one a month, a thought which Mr. Woollcott could not endure. With him, it had to be all or nothing, and therefore nothing. He sent his resignation to Editor Ross, immediately hopped a train to Chicago to escape arguments. Well aware that the Woollcott page was among the most...
...Yorker occurred at what many observers considered the peak of an extraordinary career. Once the ranking dramacritic of Manhattan, he had become a sort of glorified gossip columnist, a genteel Walter Winchell, and a peevish prophet of arts & letters. Few men can tell a story as entertainingly as Alexander Woollcott, and few would dare to be as malicious. As Cream of Wheat's "Town Crier" on the radio, he received more "high class" fan mail than any other single entertainer on the Columbia network. Sales of his book, While Rome Burns, approached 90,000. Like bumboat boys diving...
Green Baize & Blue Chips. The story begins ten years ago in Manhattan at the Saturday night poker sessions of the Thanatopsis Literary & Inside Straight Club. This group consisted chiefly of journalistic wits like Franklin Pierce Adams ("F. P. A."), Heywood Broun and Alexander Woollcott, who lunched together daily at the Algonquin Hotel. With them at the green baize table were two characters who did not fit into the regular membership. One was a nervous, profane, broom-thatched wild man from the West named Harold Ross. Born in Aspen, Colo., he had been a waterfront reporter in San Francisco, a picture...
...Jesus Parade." With a few others, including such well known regulars as Alexander Woollcott and Robert Benchley, that staff has survived the frequent eruptions of its volcanic editor. In addition the last six years have witnessed the parade of 16 "Executive Editors" whom Editor Ross has successively hired in a mad search for System. The procedure is invariable: Ross finds a new genius at a cocktail party or on a newspaper or in an advertising agency, promptly installs him as Executive Editor. Oldtimers on the staff refer to the luckless incumbent as "Jesus." For a few weeks, perhaps...