Word: poignant
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...whose name and face were familiar to newspaper readers across the U.S. Everyone knew that the youngster was safe, but no one could say that she had not been harmed. Hildy McCoy, born out of wedlock to a Roman Catholic mother, was the innocent victim of a bitter and poignant custody case. To avoid giving her up, her Jewish foster parents had hidden her in defiance of Massachusetts...
With these perceptive lines, punctuated by the frayed, nostalgic jazz of the 1920s, NBC-Radio News last week opened an hour-long Biographies in Sound (Tues. 9 p.m., E.D.T.) of F. Scott Fitzgerald. It proved to be a poignant re-creation of the tragic life and happy times of one of the most gifted American writers of the 20th century. It also showed off radio at its nonvisual, imaginative best. In the same field, television, with all its gaudy resources, might have distorted a story that simple words and music truly evoked. Biographies, a sustaining show with a tiny budget...
...whose first published work follows her renown as amateur artist, professional actress (The Time of Your Life-TIME, Jan. 31), and the estranged wife of mellowing (73) Conductor Leopold Stokowski. Explaining the poetry's origin, Gloria's publisher said: "She filled her diary with poetry-her own poignant expression of a mood, the lonely torture of young love, the ecstasy of fulfillment-all intensely personal." No advance peeks at the verses were permitted, but Gloria herself offered a hint of their content: "All of my poems spill from life, from feelings . . . tender and thunderous, serene and raging...
...first-novel romance with a bustling big-city sound track. Subway doors snap shut like guillotines, shreds of dirty newspapers swirl along the avenues instead of autumn leaves, a joyless Village party gets high on marijuana and low on clothes; and all the time the two lovers sleepwalk their poignant way between the steel-and-glass monuments and the human ruins...
...work was performed by a fine semi-amateur company. The music was almost unrelieved dissonance, both in the 35-pIayer orchestra and in the singers' melodic lines. But it provided a Lucullan feast of varying moods, from the poignant ending of the courtesan's part ("For me, too, prodigious Rome/ Could not protect from prodigious Rome") to the heartbreaking aria of the bereaved fishwife. The fine unison chorus at the end was as rousing as a latter-day Verdi's, and the pure major triad that sang out as the curtain fell was a real shocker...