Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

é 12 ROBERT SHERMAN TOWNES Liveried attendants solemnly rolled the glittering electro- melodeon into place in the centre of the arena, directly facing the state box. A silver champagne bucket was placed at the Admiral’s elbow, containing a large fish wrapped in a napkin. The fanfare rose mightily. Curtains at one side slowly opened, and Oskar came bounding across the arena along a scarlet carpet. - He entered with a joyful, full-throated urp-urp-urp. Even-in that place of hidden fears and hatreds Oskar’s pure jollity was infectious. Oskar was wearing a white full-dress shirt-front with pearl studs, wing collar, and correct white tie. He mounted the velvet-draped podium, looked brightly around the full circle of the audience, bowed, as they had taught him, to the state box, then to the audience. He tossed his head in a perfect parody of the hair-tossing mannerisms of the more glossy concert artists. The Admiral grinned broadly, displaying big teeth not unlike Oskar’s. Wilhelm Meisner’s terrible pale eyes flicked a sign of * approval at Herr K., who began to see all sorts of important doors opening for him. He felt so good that for a brief moment he almost decided to pay something to little Bela Kurtz. Oskar gleamed sleekly in the spotlights; he had been brillian- tined, because seals when dry do not have the satiny black look that the public expects. Posing for an instant, Oskar plunged into his first number, a mazurka. He poked happily at the bell-buttons, the intelligent head swinging gracefully to and fro, his flipper working the tone-lever that gave added colouring to the music. The mazurka set the Admiral’s feet tapping. Dutifully, every _ foot in the hippodrome began tapping in unison. Oskar, very sensitive to audience-reaction, tapped his own tail flippers with them. When the number was over, the Admiral applauded and in- clined his head graciously with what looked suspiciously like a royal nod. Oskar looked modestly around, then straight at the Admiral, his enormous brown eyes brimming with enjoyment, the pure, vivid enjoyment of a performer who knows that he is “ going over.” Oskar fussed at his shirt-front and tie with a flipper, pre- tended to shake invisible locks, and launched into the Chopin Polonaise Militaire. Watching the state box, Herr K. ascended on pink clouds; V. I. Baranovsky, Admiral of the Soviet Navy, was openly hum- ming. The pale eyes of Wilhelm Meisner sent Herr K. another tiny flick of approval. EE ag he nae - > comicloooks.comn)