Word: jacketful
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William Surface's jacket-portrait reminded me of the face of an Alabama State Trooper I once watched block a quiet, unpublicized attempt at school desegregation by young children. I had been working for The Southern Courier; it was the last thing I remembered from the South; and it happened only three days before I started my freshman year at Harvard. Surface has the same single-minded resolve as the trooper to enforce laws arrogantly for the law's sake...
...past decade and a half to secure the rights of all minorities. Their aim: to protest a decision upholding the convictions of 24 Indians for violating fishing regulations in the state of Washington. Led by George Crow Flies High, a Hidatsa chief from North Dakota in buckskin jacket and pants and full-feathered headdress, the group ignored a statute banning demonstrations outside the court. Indian women let out war whoops. Others cried: "Earl Warren, you better come out now." Demonstrators defiantly sprawled over imposing marble statues, splashed in fountains, hauled down an American flag and smashed five windows...
...real monkey, a real myna bird and real sitar-strumming Indians. But not real acting. And certainly not much real camp. About the only amusing scene in the film is the entrance of Noel Coward, a minor character known as the Witch of Capri, clad in a brown dinner jacket and riding pig-a-back on a servant...
...Kennedy are in basic agreement; and while the Paris talks are going on, debate with Humphrey is blunted. It is easier to differentiate them by their style. Kennedy's is tense, urgent, gritty. When the crowds are not attempting to steal his clothing, he will often take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves before talking. He shoots statistics that occasionally misinform but more often impress. His gestures jab and chop; sometimes his hands and lips betray in little movements the taut nerves within...
...loooo, my dear friends," flutes the voice. Blowing kisses, fluttering his large, bony fingers and rolling his eyes, Tiny Tim skips onstage like Bea Lillie in drag: shoulder-length locks, tattersall sports jacket decorated with a sheriff's badge, plaid shirt and orange socks. He always carries a copy of the New Testament and lugs a soiled brown shop ping bag in which he always keeps such talismans as a dime-store compact (he uses pale Elizabeth Arden foundation makeup), two notebooks containing the lyrics of 500 songs, and, of course, his "dear, sweet" ukulele...