I’d love to be a NASCAR driver because they’re, like, in their forties and fifties.
To stay around any place you love, you have to have a job. In college at Georgetown in the fifties, I got my first theater job checking coats at the National, which was Washington’s main theater.
If I could take you back in time to the fifties and walk you around to some of the places where I grew up, you’d be trying to get back in your time machine. It wasn’t all sock hops – matter of fact, I never saw a sock hop.
The riskiest thing I have done in my fifties is to do a Polish accent for a new film. I had a great time working on it and two wonderful people to guide me. A dialect coach that I have known for thirty years and a Polish actor.
I guess that’s one of the things about growing up in the fifties – it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be at least as successful as your parents.
These are the fifties, you know. The disgusting, posturing fifties.
I knew that if I wrote a new book every six months or every year, if I continued to read great books, eventually I would write something worthy of publication. I understood I might be in my forties or my fifties or even my sixties, but I felt confident that it would happen.
It’s amazing, the quality of good work that happened in the fifties when a series would have to turn out 30-some episodes a season – it’s amazing that ‘I Love Lucy’ was as good as it was!
Later in the fifties I got involved in kinetic studies using my long forgotten math background.
Both my parents were migrant workers who came to the U.K. in the Fifties to better themselves. The culture I grew up in was to work hard, save hard and to look after your family.
It’s funny: I don’t feel like I have any particular privileged feeling for the Fifties.
I am especially grateful, however, to have known the fifties, before we began to poison our own civilization – or at least before the effects of the poison began to be felt.
My father is Hungarian and moved to Britain during the uprising, and my Spanish mum comes from Galicia; they moved here at the end of the Fifties.
I think I’ll be flavor of the month when I’m in my fifties.
It evolved from my experience in the fifties, growing up during the McCarthy era, and hearing a lot of assumptions that America was wonderful and Communism was terrible.
What Autotune allows is for people like myself and Kanye West not to depend on the singer. Back in the Fifties, the songwriter was rendered invisible. Now the songwriter is there in the forefront.
What happened in the late Fifties, early Sixties in French cinema was a fantastic revolution. I was in Italy, but completely in love with the nouvelle vague movement, and directors like Godard, Truffaut, Demy. ‘The Dreamers’ was a total homage to cinema and that love for it.
My aunt was Frances Hodges, who in the Fifties was the editor of ‘Seventeen’ and later one of the creators of ‘Mademoiselle.’ She was my Auntie Mame; she loved culture. She was a Quaker, but she became a milliner against all Quaker logic – they feel that fashion and art are vanities – because she loved fashion.
In the late Fifties and early Sixties, opposition to state terror and aggression and torture and so on was zero. That was a horrible time: the massive Kennedy terror operation against Cuba, the first attacks on Vietnam in 1962, the imposition of national security states in South America.
Where Charlie Christian left off, Papoose started a new thing; he was an innovator of the guitar. The things he did during his recording career with Fats Domino in the Fifties and Sixties until the day he died was as much a part of the music of New Orleans as anybody else has had to offer.
A lot of people like me, who’ve been around for years and years and years, only really lose it in their forties and fifties.
Being from Brazil, I missed out on a lot of American music, so I like to go back and check things out – music from the Fifties, Sixties and Seventies. So much of that stuff was groundbreaking.
Back in the fifties (the nineteen fifties, not the eighteen fifties) I did some writing for Mad Magazine, along with my friend Ernie Kovaks and a pair of comics named Bob and Ray.
The high point for me in my career was when Sinatra called me his favourite performer in the Fifties. And I’ve been sold out ever since.
I fought for peace in the fifties.
When I was growing up in the eighties, there was a real nostalgic streak for the fifties. Look at ‘Back to the Future.’
Tango was very popular in Panama at the time when I was growing up. In the Fifties in Panama, the radio stations played all types of music.
Right around the end of the fifties, college students and young people in general, began to realize that this music was almost like a history of our country – this music contained the real history of the people of this country.
I lived through the Fifties in the Midwest when everything that was happening – the repression of homosexuality, for instance, the demonization of the Left, the giggly, soporific ordinariness of adolescence, the stone-deafness to the social injustice all around us – seemed not only unobjectionable but also nonexistent.
I love oldies just kind of sweet, slinky, Fifties music. The slow stuff. And Billie Holiday.
In Windsor in the forties, and even up into the fifties and sixties, if you were black, you had to sit in the balcony of the theatres, and you couldn’t buy property in most places.
I feel sometimes and in some ways like Linda Romanoli and Monica Velour; I feel marginalized because I’m in my fifties. If you went online and you look at some of the blogs, which one can do on a lonely night, it’s pretty startling what people will say about you just because you’re in your fifties.
You have to remember that I was an Australian girl of the Fifties and Sixties. For Australians at that time, it was imperative to get out of the country and discover the world.
It wasn’t stone. It wasn’t welded steel. It wasn’t traditional sculpture. They thought it was craft, or something else, but not art. They couldn’t define it in the early Fifties when I was starting out.
I’m not a good father and they’re not children any more; the eldest is in his fifties. My relationship with their mothers broke down and, because of what the law was, they went with their mothers and were imbued with their mothers’ morality in life and they were not my people any more.
Listen to the great guitarists of the Fifties. They didn’t do that nasty sort of industrial distortion. They played musical compositions as solos – Scotty Moore, Cliff Gallup, Django Reinhardt. There wasn’t a bad note in any of those solos. I listened to that and stayed with those rules.
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