Samuel Barber, who was born in Pennsylvania in 1910, began composing music when he was seven, and as a juvenile opera singer he revealed a predilection for writing for voice. He studied voice at Philadelphia’s Curtis Institute, where he was a member of the conservatory’s very first class, and he continued to hone his baritone in Vienna. After returning home, he sang on NBC radio and recorded Dover Beach , one of his own vocal compositions.
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January 2011
This past October the residents of Hooker Lane, in the tony Cos Cob section of Greenwich, Connecticut, made headlines when 9 of the 11 homeowners on the 1,580-foot-long dead end—or “cul-de-sac,” in real estate-ese—petitioned the town’s board of selectmen to change the name of their street to Stonebrook Lane.
2006_1_16
This past October the residents of Hooker Lane, in the tony Cos Cob section of Greenwich, Connecticut, made headlines when 9 of the 11 homeowners on the 1,580-foot-long dead end—or “cul-de-sac,” in real estate-ese—petitioned the town’s board of selectmen to change the name of their street to Stonebrook Lane.
In researching a book on the 1920s flapper—the notorious character type who bobbed her hair, smoked cigarettes, drank gin, sported short skirts, and passed her evenings in steamy jazz clubs, where she danced in a shockingly immodest fashion with a revolving cast of male suitors—I was surprised to discover how familiar America’s Jazz Age seems to the modern eye.
In late 1924 the husband-and-wife sociologist team of Robert and Helen Lynd embarked for Muncie, Indiana, where they began a yearlong study of a “typical” American city. What they found could easily describe the typical American suburb in 2006. Teenagers were in the thrall of fashion and celebrity. Young girls fought with their mothers over the length of their skirts and the amount of makeup applied to their faces. Boys argued with their fathers over the use of the family car.
25 Years Ago
December 5, 1980 The outgoing Carter administration suspends $25 million in aid to El Salvador following the murder of three American nuns and a lay worker. On December 13 José Napoleon Duarte becomes the first civilian since 1931 to lead the country, and four days later the United States restores $20 million in nonmilitary aid.
December 8, 1980 John Lennon is shot and killed in front of his apartment building in New York City by a crazed fan.
50 Years Ago
November 25, 1955 The Interstate Commerce Commission bans racial segregation on buses and trains that cross state lines.
December 5, 1955 The American Federation of Labor and the Congress of Industrial Organizations merge to form the AFL-CIO. George Meany is put in charge of the combined group.
75 Years Ago
On November 5, 1930, Sinclair Lewis became the first American writer to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. The novelist had turned the 1920s into his personal hit parade with Main Street (1920), Babbitt (1922), Arrowsmith (1925), Elmer Gantry (1927), and Dodsworth (1929), and, at the awards ceremony in Stockholm in December, he was cited for creating a body of work “in which the follies of mankind—not excluding those that are perhaps special to America—have been scourged.”
It was Washington, D.C., December 1941. America had just been thrust into war by the attack on Pearl Harbor. Christmas was coming, and it was not certain whether the newly ordered blackout would be waived for the traditional lighting of the White House Christmas tree.
I was working at the U.S. Department of Labor, and when it was announced that the ceremony would go on, I rushed over to the White House to see it.
It was dusk, and the Christmas tree stood tall and black in front of the crowd. Finally the presidential party arrived. I strained my eyes trying to pick out the President. Suddenly the lights on the platform blazed out. Sitting in the center was President Roosevelt. He was greeted with cheers and applause. But who was that standing next to him? He looked familiar —but it surely couldn’t be. Yes, it was. Winston Churchill! Nobody knew he was in America. I realized he must have come immediately to confer with his new ally.
I no longer remember what either of them said that evening, but I’ll never forget being in the presence of the two greatest leaders of our time.
It was the Summer of 1957, before my senior year at Carlsbad High School in New Mexico. The weather was hot and my friends and I were bored. The only excitement was a dance at the Elks Club Ballroom sponsored by the cheerleaders at my school. They usually hired local talent, but this time they had taken the suggestion of Roy Rucker and Buddy Shirley, two students who had transferred from Lubbock, Texas. Roy and Buddy knew a band whose star was rising, a group led by another young man named Buddy. The band charged the cheerleaders $500, which seemed like a lot. Waiting in the long line to get into the dance, though, I heard someone in front of me say the band could have charged even more: Buddy had opened for Elvis Presley twice.
The big hall was packed. The band’s glorious pounding went on for an hour before the musicians went on a break and the jukebox took over for the dancers who didn’t want to rest.