Difference between revisions of ".Mjkz.MjQ2OA"

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(Created page with "Ieadlnar to second-floor quarters for sleeping also gave access to hangIng book-cases tn w·h lch Mr. Roberta keeps Intimate data. on current books he ls Wl"lting. Paintings a...")
 
Line 1: Line 1:
Ieadlnar to second-floor quarters for
+
[image - Kenneth Roberts]
sleeping also gave access to hangIng book-cases tn w·h lch Mr. Roberta keeps Intimate data. on current books he ls Wl"lting.
+
Kenneth Roberts, Kennebunk, Maine Author.
Paintings and old engravings ot
+
BY ALICE FROST LORD [bold]
historical Interest caught the eye;
+
UNTIL yesterday Kenneth Rob-erts to the writer was but a name, a distinguished name, to be sure, but only a name.  Mention him and one thought of his long association with the Sat-urday Evening Post as staff cor-respondent, of his novels increasing in fame with the later production of "Arundel", "The Lively Lady" and "Rabbie in Arms", and of his con-nections with Maine as a resident of Kennebunk Beach and an "agita-tor of the people" in the modern cause of roadside and community beautification.
but the two impressive features,
+
until yesterday he was a liter-ary light hiding securely under the bushel of a small Maine coast re-sort, as far as personal accessibility is concerned.  Banish the thought that Kenneth Roberts could endure living in a nitch in a shrine sought by pilgrims.  Seclusion, quiet, a chance to work uninterruptedly, and beauty all around him, in his home, in his study, and thruout the tiny community of which he is so im-portant a part--this is his taste and to a remarkable degree his achieve-ment.
apart from the man. himself, were
+
Accent on this situation was giv-en by discovery that no telephone connections link the author with the outside world.  No tinkling bell by day or night distracts.  Business and social life is pushed back around the poplar corner and over the oak-shade knoll, where the ma-cadam run beachwise and inns and shops cluster.
n eight-foot eagle that once or-
+
Kenneth Roberts keeps his hand on the tiller and sailropes of his days, and manages his precious craft of hours against adverse winds of modern usages and inter-ruptions.  One feels the even keel of busy weeks in this study that is a transfigured stable.  Hid behind a walled-in court where apple-trees grow Japanese-fashion, flat against the facade, and  where pansy bord-ers flourish, he charts and follows his course thru history and romance.
 
+
But when one once penetrates his aeclusion, Mr. Roberts surrenders completely to the transient de-mand upon his time.  He has been a reporter and special writer, back in his Boston Post days.  Under his skin he is sensitive to the feelings of this clan of wandering question-marks, and sympathetic with their struggles against obstacles.
I
+
Morning sunshine outlined the fountain-figure among the flowers, making on think of Maragaret De-land's strange bronze nestled in a birch-cluster at her river-side cot-tage a mile or two eastward.  Mrs. Deland was out for an afternoon social affair, later that same day, and could not be seen; but in her cloistered retreat was spied the same engaging garden-statue which has found photographic record by the writer a decade ago.
 
+
Thu an arched doorway at the Roberts' study, carefully screened, came the familiar click of type-keys.  The author was at his day's work.  A tap, and a robust voice called, "come in!"
I
+
What a room!  The roof was high.  The stable-like size ensured spaciousness, but the tall wall-spaces were broken on two sides by a narrow balcony with slender railing; and an open-stairway leading to the second floor quarters for sleeping also gave access to hang-ing book-cases in which Mr. Rob-erts keeps intimate data on cur-rent books hes writing.
I
+
Paintings and old engravings of historical interest caught the eye; but the two impressive features, apart from the man, himself, were an eight-foot eagle that once or-namented with unusual grace of form and line the first supreme court building in this county and which is now hung against the balcony at the rear, and an unique fireplace that projected into the room at the opposite end, some-thing like an Eskimo igloo in white plaster.
 
+
An high-backed, tapestry covered chair that might have come out of some palace scraped the boards. The occupant rose alertly--and the welcome, vigorous and warm, was over.
.namented with. unusual grace of
+
Beautification [bold]
form and line the first aupreme
+
"Our Maine vacationlad!" he ejaculated, with as immediate con-versational dive into the subject nearest his heart, outside of his books.
court building In this country and
+
"People may not like to hear it, but all up and down our coast officials are doing their best to wreck the Sate!" There was con-vication here.
whloh Is now hung against the
+
"See what is being done, or not being done, to bring into Maine and keep here the people who are most desirable--people who will es-tablish their summer homes along our coast, pay substantial taxes and ensure the future welfare of the State. Southern Maine is es-tering alomst entirely in tawdri-ness and impermanence. Why, we aren't in Maine until we cross the Kennebec!"
· balconT at the rear, and an unique
+
Mr. Roberts needed no jockeying to swing into his pace on this familiar theme. He was on his feet, his eyes flashing, words pouring out with fluency, tho low-spoken after the manner of a gentleman. Talking, he strode around his big chair, and suddenly sat down again.
fireplace that projected Into the
+
"They tell me the State has com-mitted a new billboard atrocity this season down this way; and look at what summer visitors, whom we invite here, see as they cross this part of the State; Regi-ments of telephone poles! Acres of overnight camps! Winrows of bill-boards, and more billboards! Are they any fewer since the campaign started against them at Augusta? No! Nor have the legislators done more than to license them and drive them back certain distances from the highway. They have not restricted them to commercial areas. Thousands of letters of pro-test in the office of the Maine Publicity Bureau prove that peo-ple with brains regard the billl-boarded sections of southern Maine as residential slums; and a slum never was worth anything to any-body.
room at tll.e opposite end. something. like an Eskimo Igloo In white
+
"Do not mistake me," he added as he rose again and backed against table and typewriter, as if by standing he could better visualize the picture before his mind.
plaster.
+
"I recognize the right of people to have access to our wonderful ocean front, but not to make a mess of it. Give them parking areas well back from the shore, from which they may walk, as the rest of us summer cottagers walk, to enjoy the beach and rocks! But don't let them make life hideous with their auto-mobiles, their noise and their debris!"
An high-backed, tapestry covered
+
Lewiston Journal Aug. 3, 1935
chair that might have come out of
 
some palace scraped the boards.
 
The occupant rose alertly-and the
 
welcome, vigorous and warm, was
 
Beautification
 
"Our Maine vacationland!,. Ike
 
ejaculated, with an Immediate conver.sational dive tnto the aubject
 
 
 
neanu1t his hea.l"t, outside of bla 1
 
books.
 
''People may not Uke to hear It,.
 
but all up and down our coast
 
officials are doing their best to
 
wreck the State!" There wa~ conviction here.
 
"See what 111 being done, or not
 
being done, to bring into .Maine and 1
 
keep here the people who are most
 
deslrable--peopla who will establish their summer homes along
 
our eoast. pay substantial taxes
 
and ensure the future welfare of
 
the State. Southern Ma.lne is caterlng almost entirely to tawdriK
 
h Rober._, Kennebunk,
 
ennet
 
""
 
ness and impermanence. Wh)r, we
 
Ken neth R,obet'ts keeps his hand a1·en't In Maine until we cross the
 
BY ALICE FROST LORD
 
r on the tiller and sailropes of his Kennebec!"
 
NTIL yesterday K enneth Rob- , days a.n<t manages his precious...::.'.:.':'..'.:'.::::'..'.:::::..:_ _____ _--:--::---:-.erts to the writer was but a craft of . hours against adverse I Mr. Roberts needed no jocke~1{:lg
 
nune, a distinguished name, winds of m.odern u·s ages and inter· 1, to swing Into his pace on feei8
 
to be sure, but only a name. r uptions. One feels the even keel o! familiar theme. He wa~don hliuring
 
1 l~w~spokeb
 
Mention blm and one thought of busy weeks in this study that is a his eyfili 1lf8hin;,
 
bis fong association with the Sat- trans figured st&ble. · Hid behind a out w
 
u;~P~ of a gentleman.
 
arday Evening Post as eta.ft cor- walled-In court where apple-trees atter. the hmastrode around his big
 
respondent. of his novels increasing grow Japanese-fashion, flat against J;!rr!Df~d ~uddeoly sat down again.
 
In fame with the later produc\~on
 
the facade, and where pansy bord"They tell me the State has com" Arundel", "The Lively Lady an era flourish, he charts and follows mltted a new billboard atrocity
 
"Rabble in Arms", a.nd of hill con- hlii course thru history
 
and
 
neotlona with Maine as a. resident romance.
 
this sea.son down this way; and
 
of Kennebunk Beach a.nd an "a.g!taBut when one once penetrates his look at what summer visitors,
 
tor of the people" In the modern secl usion Mr. Roberts surrenders whom we invite h ere, see as they
 
ca.use of roadside and community completeiv to the transient debeauti!l<:a.tlon.
 
mand upon his time. He has been cross this part of the State: ReglUntll yesterday be was a liter- a reporter and special writer, back ments ot telephone poles! Acres of
 
In his Boston Post days. Under his overnight camps! Wlnrows of billary light hiding securely under
 
•kln he Is sensitive to the feelings boards, and more billboards!
 
bushel of a small Maine coast re- of this. clan of wandering question- they any fewer since the campaign
 
111>rt, u far as personal acessibility marks, and sympathetic with their , started against them at Augusta.?
 
le concerned. Banish the thought struggles a.gains~ obstacles.
 
No! Nor have the legislators done
 
Morning sunshine outlined the more than to license them and
 
that Kenneth Roberts could endure 11:>untaln.-tigure among the flowers, drive them back certain distances
 
lfvlng In a nltch ln a shrine sought . making one think of Margaret De· from the highway. They have not
 
1,y pilgrims. Seclusion, quiet, a land's strange bronze nestled in a restricted them
 
to commercl&l
 
chance to work uninterruptedly, and birch-cluster at her river-side cot- , areas. Thousands of letters of probeauty all around him, in his home, tage & mile or two eastward. Mrs. test In the office of the Maine
 
Publicity Bureau prove that
 
in his study, and thruout the tiny • Deland was out for an afternoon ple with brains regard the peobllleommunlty or which he is so Im- social affair, later that same \tay, boarded sections of southern Maine
 
portant a part-this is his taste and and could not be seen; but in her as residential slums; and a slum
 
to a re.markable degree his achieve- cloistered retreat wa• spied the never was worth anything to a.nT111.ent.
 
engaging
 
garden-etatue body.
 
8 am e
 
Accent on thlii: situation was giv- 1 which had found
 
photographic
 
"Do not mistake me," he added,
 
en by discovery that no telephone record by the writer a decade ago.
 
as he rose again and backed against
 
connections link the author with
 
Thru an arohed doorway at the table and typewriter, as If by
 
the outside world. No tinkling bell Roberts' study, carefully screened, standing he could better visualize
 
by day or night distracts. Business came the fa.mllla.r click of type- the picture before his mind.
 
and social life ls pushed
 
back keys. The author was at his day's
 
"I recognize the right of people
 
around the poplar corner and over I work. A tap, and a robust voice to have access to our wondertul
 
the oa.k-shadb- knoll, where the ma.- called, "Come In!"
 
ocean front, but not to make a. mess
 
ca.dam runs beachwlse and inns
 
What • a room! The roof was of It. Give them parking area.a well
 
and shops cluster.
 
hlgh. The stable-like size ensured .back from the shore, from which
 
spaciousness, but the tall wall- 1 they may walk, as the rest of us
 
spaces were broken on two sides summer cottagers walk, to enjoy the I
 
by_ a narrow balcon.,r with slender , beach and rocks! But don't let them
 
railing; and an open-stairway · make ·lite hideous with their auto- ,
 
mobiles, their noise and thetr j
 
debris!"
 
 
 
I
 
 
 
=~---------
 
 
 
U
 
 
 
I
 
 
 
OJ
 
 
 
t:0°
 
 
 
I
 
 
 
23:55, 23 March 2017 (UTC)~=::_-====-==-....:.c..--.. :. . ,
 
 
 
the /
 
 
 
Are
 
 
 
I
 
 
 
I
 
 
 
 

Revision as of 03:43, 27 March 2017

[image - Kenneth Roberts] Kenneth Roberts, Kennebunk, Maine Author. BY ALICE FROST LORD [bold] UNTIL yesterday Kenneth Rob-erts to the writer was but a name, a distinguished name, to be sure, but only a name. Mention him and one thought of his long association with the Sat-urday Evening Post as staff cor-respondent, of his novels increasing in fame with the later production of "Arundel", "The Lively Lady" and "Rabbie in Arms", and of his con-nections with Maine as a resident of Kennebunk Beach and an "agita-tor of the people" in the modern cause of roadside and community beautification. until yesterday he was a liter-ary light hiding securely under the bushel of a small Maine coast re-sort, as far as personal accessibility is concerned. Banish the thought that Kenneth Roberts could endure living in a nitch in a shrine sought by pilgrims. Seclusion, quiet, a chance to work uninterruptedly, and beauty all around him, in his home, in his study, and thruout the tiny community of which he is so im-portant a part--this is his taste and to a remarkable degree his achieve-ment. Accent on this situation was giv-en by discovery that no telephone connections link the author with the outside world. No tinkling bell by day or night distracts. Business and social life is pushed back around the poplar corner and over the oak-shade knoll, where the ma-cadam run beachwise and inns and shops cluster. Kenneth Roberts keeps his hand on the tiller and sailropes of his days, and manages his precious craft of hours against adverse winds of modern usages and inter-ruptions. One feels the even keel of busy weeks in this study that is a transfigured stable. Hid behind a walled-in court where apple-trees grow Japanese-fashion, flat against the facade, and where pansy bord-ers flourish, he charts and follows his course thru history and romance. But when one once penetrates his aeclusion, Mr. Roberts surrenders completely to the transient de-mand upon his time. He has been a reporter and special writer, back in his Boston Post days. Under his skin he is sensitive to the feelings of this clan of wandering question-marks, and sympathetic with their struggles against obstacles. Morning sunshine outlined the fountain-figure among the flowers, making on think of Maragaret De-land's strange bronze nestled in a birch-cluster at her river-side cot-tage a mile or two eastward. Mrs. Deland was out for an afternoon social affair, later that same day, and could not be seen; but in her cloistered retreat was spied the same engaging garden-statue which has found photographic record by the writer a decade ago. Thu an arched doorway at the Roberts' study, carefully screened, came the familiar click of type-keys. The author was at his day's work. A tap, and a robust voice called, "come in!" What a room! The roof was high. The stable-like size ensured spaciousness, but the tall wall-spaces were broken on two sides by a narrow balcony with slender railing; and an open-stairway leading to the second floor quarters for sleeping also gave access to hang-ing book-cases in which Mr. Rob-erts keeps intimate data on cur-rent books hes writing. Paintings and old engravings of historical interest caught the eye; but the two impressive features, apart from the man, himself, were an eight-foot eagle that once or-namented with unusual grace of form and line the first supreme court building in this county and which is now hung against the balcony at the rear, and an unique fireplace that projected into the room at the opposite end, some-thing like an Eskimo igloo in white plaster. An high-backed, tapestry covered chair that might have come out of some palace scraped the boards. The occupant rose alertly--and the welcome, vigorous and warm, was over. Beautification [bold] "Our Maine vacationlad!" he ejaculated, with as immediate con-versational dive into the subject nearest his heart, outside of his books. "People may not like to hear it, but all up and down our coast officials are doing their best to wreck the Sate!" There was con-vication here. "See what is being done, or not being done, to bring into Maine and keep here the people who are most desirable--people who will es-tablish their summer homes along our coast, pay substantial taxes and ensure the future welfare of the State. Southern Maine is es-tering alomst entirely in tawdri-ness and impermanence. Why, we aren't in Maine until we cross the Kennebec!" Mr. Roberts needed no jockeying to swing into his pace on this familiar theme. He was on his feet, his eyes flashing, words pouring out with fluency, tho low-spoken after the manner of a gentleman. Talking, he strode around his big chair, and suddenly sat down again. "They tell me the State has com-mitted a new billboard atrocity this season down this way; and look at what summer visitors, whom we invite here, see as they cross this part of the State; Regi-ments of telephone poles! Acres of overnight camps! Winrows of bill-boards, and more billboards! Are they any fewer since the campaign started against them at Augusta? No! Nor have the legislators done more than to license them and drive them back certain distances from the highway. They have not restricted them to commercial areas. Thousands of letters of pro-test in the office of the Maine Publicity Bureau prove that peo-ple with brains regard the billl-boarded sections of southern Maine as residential slums; and a slum never was worth anything to any-body. "Do not mistake me," he added as he rose again and backed against table and typewriter, as if by standing he could better visualize the picture before his mind. "I recognize the right of people to have access to our wonderful ocean front, but not to make a mess of it. Give them parking areas well back from the shore, from which they may walk, as the rest of us summer cottagers walk, to enjoy the beach and rocks! But don't let them make life hideous with their auto-mobiles, their noise and their debris!" Lewiston Journal Aug. 3, 1935