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Senior center George McManama, who eventually tallied five points, poked a rebound past Blue goaltender John Cole after 45 seconds of play, and less than three minutes later, sophomore Red Jahncke lofted a 20-foot wrist shot into the Yale net for another. Already. the Bulldogs were a beaten hockey team...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Skaters Build First Period Lead, Coast To Easy Win In New Haven | 3/2/1970 | See Source »

Terrell played the villain in his match with Ufford, twice intercollegiate champion when he was at Harvard. The 39-year-old Ufford played incredibly well, much to the delight of the crowd which was solidly behind the "old man." Ufford used a series of drop shots and wrist backhands to run Terrell off the court in four games...

Author: By Robert W. Gerlach, | Title: Racquetmen Fall In Third Round | 2/23/1970 | See Source »

After only five minutes had elapsed, Terrier Bob Gryp received a direct centering pass from the midst of a logjam in front of the Harvard net, and rifled a clean wrist shot past Crimson goaler Bruce Durno. At 9:32, Steve Stirling put in another from the right faceoff circle, and it seemed that Harvard was in for a dismal evening...

Author: By John L. Powers, | Title: Late Crimson Rally Falls Short Terriers End Beanpot Hopes, 5-3 | 2/3/1970 | See Source »

...trite-tragic skeleton that his father's life seems to have been. For instance, there is Lahr as a budding vaudevillian putting makeup on his collar even when unemployed so everyone will know he is in show biz. One is touched by the physical fact that his left wrist was permanently larger than the right from breaking repeated pratfalls. And a fine moment comes when a wino outside the theater holds out a dollar saying "Here, Bert, and thanks." As a young intellectual, John Lahr is eloquent, too, about his father's final sense that...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Where the Laughs Came From | 12/12/1969 | See Source »

...sadistic and rebellious reveries; in return, we pay him lots of money and promise not to remember what he does. As long as he gives us a few concrete gestures, the rest doesn't matter; we'll extrapolate from there. His sulking, his mincing, the fluttering eves, the limp wrist are but touch-stones to the structure of our own imaginations. I don't know what happened in New York or the Boston Garden anymore and no one else does either. Perhaps this not knowing is the residue of all great theatre experiences, those that, like Mick Jagger, "invite...

Author: By Joel Haycock, | Title: The flea-bit painted monkey Got Live If You Want It | 12/9/1969 | See Source »

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