Word: pompadour
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...days swing onward, galumph-galumph, students leap from their carrels out into the snowless Yard ("I am not a prodigious leaper, I am a bird"). Lights burn late in House rooms (Look at it this way, Silas, Louis Quinze is to the Pompadour as you are to..."). Some seek recourse to the warm reassurance of love not dependent on academic achievement ("Sally, if I were stupid would you still love me the way I love you?"). Others seek recourse to the warm reassurance of physical exhilaration independent of academic achievement ("I'm not going to get out of shape this...
Life among the humanoids of outer space-if such ever come to light-could not be more remote from the modern world than the bizarre and ceremonious existence of Louis XIV. With learning and flair, Nancy Mitford, the biographer of Voltaire and Madame de Pompadour, employs an elegant and aphoristic style to match the complexity and splendor of her subject: the building of Versailles, and its principal inhabitant, the Sun King, revered as a demigod by his 20 million subjects...
Died. Cecile Sorel, 92, French actress, who reigned as queen of the Comédie Francaise for 32 years (1901-33), made an abrupt switch at 60 to the music halls, where she delighted Paris with her naughty-haughty sketches of Mesdames DuBarry and Pompadour, all the while causing equally spectacular offstage tremors with her collection of celebrated admirers, which included Russia's Nicholas II, Egypt's King Fuad, France's Premier Clemenceau and Marshal Foch, Italy's Mussolini and England's Edward VII; of a heart attack; in Deauville...
Louis XV offered it to his Queen in 1741, only to take it back a few years later and install Madame de Pompadour in the apartment next to his. An amateur botanist, he made its garden famous throughout Europe for its hothouse pineapples, coffee and figs. Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette preferred the nearby, smaller Petit Trianon, but this did not spare either building when revolutionaries carted off their contents...
...love me, baaby?" he wailed, and from the 15,000 faithful in Manhattan's Madison Square Garden last week came the soulful chorus, "Yeah, baby, yeah." For one frenetic hour, Brown commanded the stage like a one-man riot. Stocky as a fireplug, hair teased into a luxuriant pompadour, he danced, preached, niugged, strutted and sang with a mounting intensity carefully calculated to inflame. Finishing one song, he turned his back and then suddenly spun around, grasped the microphone by the neck and fell to the floor moaning, "Please, please, please...