Word: loudnesses
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...Lima, Peru, a large bull looked about him and saw Luis Romero, Peruvian cinemactor, demonstrating his horsemanship. With a loud bellow, the bull made for Luis Romero, flipped him off his horse, pawed and gored him until men arrived who rescued Luis Romero and tried to calm the bull...
...music of incredibly swift and al, most inaudible violins, swinging and sighing through the measures of a bitter improvisation. The excitement of the cardgame, the quick, inexplicable chances of love and despair rise and fall; tbev are flashes of an ironic dangerous lightning, never followed! by the slow, loud rhetoric of thunder.' As in Fraulein Else, Rhapsody, None But the Brave, Author Schnitzler's understanding of humanity is unclouded with impurities of opinion or emotion. Profundities, in one meaning, are avoided. It is as if Authorj Schnitzler had decided that pro; fundities could never be more than inconclusive...
...awful kaffir curse, loud blank shots, and much booming of Afric drums, marked the opening at a theatre in drowsy, medieval Prague, last week, of a U. S. thrill-drama, The Witch Doctor,* once known to Manhattanites as a poor imitation of White Cargo. After three of the characters had been clumsily and blatantly "killed" on the stage, famed Czechoslovakian Playwright Antoine Trych rose from his orchestra seat, drew an automatic pistol, and fired two shots over the heads of the actors. Amid the ensuing deadly hush, he cried: "I protest at the showing of this play in Prague! . . . Many...
...Andrew W. Mellon goes to Yale, as does the son of John Joseph Pershing. The sons of John Davison Rockefeller Jr. attend Princeton and Dartmouth. Last month a person who was watching lads at play at Peekskill Military Academy, Peekskill, N. Y., pointed to a dark faced, mop-headed, loud-shouting little chap. "Who may that be?" he enquired. "That," he was told, "is Alfredo Calles, son of Plutarco Elias Calles, President of Mexico...
...BLOODY POET-Desider Kostolanyi-Macy-Masius ($2.50). In a parade of purple, the emperors of Rome go through the pages of old histories with the sound of loud horns. In the annals of Tacitus and those of medieval chroniclers, these men are present; their frail lusts and meagre rascality grown enormous through the grandeur of the empire which they destroyed. In writing about them, it is hard to make them merely human; some aura of the supernatural clings to the absurd magnificence of their palaces and their crimes. Now the wildest of them all, Nero, the Bloody Poet, is imagined...