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What the Soviet ballet is like was hard to discover from Vecheslova's and Chabukani's dancing. They used the conventional steps, only more of them. The piano accompaniment was too thin to be noticed. Only hint of propaganda was the red cap and the tri-colored cockade sup posed to suggest "The Flame of Paris." None of the dances had meaning outside of the energy it took to perform them...
...room was hit in the stomach, later died. Underbill fled from the house, fell once, disappeared. He was found at dawn, bleeding from back, neck, leg, arm, in a bed in a furniture store into which he had broken. "I don't think I can live," moaned the Tri-State Terror. "I'm shot to hell. They hit me five times. I counted them as they...
...other six planes are to be Lockheed Electros, another new twin-engined low-wing monoplane which is also supposed to do 200 m.p.h. The newer fleet will be used to retire obsolete 120 m.p.h. tri-motors on Pan American's routes through Mexico, Central and South America...
...shouldering the job of Undersecretary, Earle Bailie was named merely a "special assistant." Hence he does not have to be confirmed by the Senate which might not look with favor on 1) a partner in the private banking firm of J. & W. Seligman; 2) the creator and head of Tri-Continental Corp., one of Wall Street's biggest investment trusts (original capital $100,000,000); 3) a man who likes nothing better than to spend two months of the year as lord of a funny old palace on the shore of the Mediterranean at Portofino, Italy...
...torn canvas trousers-are they not a thousand, thousand times more precious to us than Danton's brown frockcoat, Desmoulins' overturned chair, the Phrygian night cap, the order for arrest signed by the blue hands of Robespierre, the last letter of the Queen, and the faded tri-color cockade, ancient and light, like a dry flower?" So says Author Valentine Kataev. Capitalist readers might reply: easier said than done. Not all the conviction in the world will make propaganda into art. But Author Kataev can fill his own bill. Time, Forward!, a novel about concrete mixing...