Word: circus
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...jump in two hours, Tully performed a feat that has never been equaled. Please ask Mr. Tully why he didn't stop to light a cigaret or write a letter home after being kicked off that train, before catching the last coach. If Jim Tully ever saw a circus train he would know that the last coach of every circus train that ever moved a mile out of the yards was the railroad caboose, not the last coach of the circus. And if he did catch the last coach why did he risk his precious life crawling over...
...gave each other black eyes. Reason: Mr. Knauff had a cold. Mr. Glauber, promising a cure, stuck large porous plasters on Mr. Knauff's chest, back, abdomen. Mr. Knauff got well. Then Mr. Glauber peeled off the plasters, peeling off also Mr. Knauff's means of livelihood in a circus, to wit, a tattooed portrait of Abraham Lincoln (chest); assorted tattooed landscapes, ships, anchors, Uncle Sams (abdomen); nude females, South Sea Islanders, palms, boats (back...
...THEATRE IN LIFE?Nicolas Evreinov?Brentano ($3.50). M. Evreinov's Russian ingenuity has excelled in such varied activities as circus performing, archaeology, law, novels, history and flute-playing, but his chief passion and reputation are in the theatre. This book, a more or less formal attempt to enunciate a philosophy, elaborates Shakespeare's dictum about all the world being a stage. Poet Robert Burns would have been interested, for M. Evreinov touches also on the problem of seeing oneself as seen by others. "The Theatre of Oneself," says M. Evreinov, is conducted by every human being in all those acts...
...elect as a hardboiled, outspoken cynic, Mr. Tully has been put to it to keep his crudeness spectacular and not merely crude, especially in his writings about the Hollywood notables whom he met when living with Charles Spencer Chaplin as strong-armed, sympathetic major domo. But these circus addenda to the Tully autobiography (Beggars of Life, 1924) return to a milieu wholly comfortable for Mr. Tully, where he can exercise his storytelling ability with no private emotion more complicating than a half-hearted wish to trade his literary life for the disheveled simplicity of a circus once more...
...result, the stories are good stories. The circus people love and hate, give and steal, swear and sing with inflections nearly as much their own as Mr. Tully's. If the real Moss-Haired girl, half Swedish, quarter Indian and quarter Irish, did not actually wash her hair in stale beer and herbs, or if she was not the freak of virtue that Mr. Tully has made her, there was surely enough virtue and stale beer about her to make exaggeration more permissible than understatement. If the blood and thunder seem as pat as they are plentiful in "Hey Rube...