From smoky, factory-ridden Steubenville, Ohio, 28 brightly scrubbed boys arrived in Manhattan last week, saw Rockefeller Center, the Aquarium, the Statue of Liberty, got lost in the subway, occasionally trotted around their hotel block for exercise and spent the rest of their time singing. The letters on their badges stood for Singing Boys of America. They regarded this week's Manhattan concert as their formal debut, the springboard from which they hoped to jump to national importance, really earn their name.
Their director was Robert Lippert, a big, tense, jowly man who was once...
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