San Francisco is famous for its cable cars. In operation since 1873, (1) passengers travel through town on cable cars, moving and gripping a cable that is constantly in motion just below the street. Their old-fashioned look and open-air seating have made them a tourist favorite. [2]  They likely would have ceased (3) operating, however, if it hadn't been for Friedel Klussmann.

In January 1947, San Francisco mayor Roger Lapham proposed a plan to rid the city of cable cars. The cars, he argued, posed a safety threat because the cables were old and might snap, resulting in a runaway car. [A] They were also a financial burden on the city. [B] He proposes replacing the cable cars with (4) buses that would operate reliably, on the steep streets of San Francisco, and be profitable. [C] Klussmann, the president of the San Francisco Federation of the (5) Arts, and she was a fan of cable cars, was unconvinced. In March 1947, Klussmann called a meeting of the leaders of twenty-seven women's civic groups, forming the Citizens Committee to Save the Cable Cars. [DJ Led by (6) Klussmann, a fan of cable cars, the group rebutted the mayor’s arguments in a press release. Cable cars were safe, they argued; in fact, cable cars caused (7) fewer accidents then did buses. Additionally, cable cars made money for the city by (8) commending tourism. [9]

[1] With the signatures of (10) of 50,000 supporters, the committee's amendment was granted a spot on the ballot that November. [2] Still, the mayor wanted to scrap the cable cars. [3] Klussmann realized that the best way to protect the cable cars would be to pass an amendment to the city (11) charter and the city would be required to retain them. [12]

Two days before the election, Klussmann put signs from a previously eliminated cable car route on a cable car, which she (13) (Klussmann) then paraded through town (to remind San Franciscans of what was at stake. On Election Day, her efforts paid off, (14) Many voters supported the amendment to save the cable cars. "The Cable Car (15) Lady"(as Klussmann came to be known), had won.

Barbershop music - four voices singing in perfect (16) harmony, without instrumental, accompaniment -  can be traced back to late-nineteenth-century African American barbershops. While waiting for a haircut, a patron might have improvised a melody. Two or three other customers would then harmonize (17) higher or lower than the melody to create a song. [A] This pastime eventually became a widely known genre of music that's traditionally characterized by four men singing in red-and-white-striped suits and straw hats. [B] The songs usually have simple melodies and honeyed titles (18) like "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" and "Sweet Adeline." [C] Barbershop music has many distinctive qualities; however, enthusiasts say the music's true (19) thrill, all in the acoustical effect called the ringing chord, or overtone. [D] Produced when all four voices perfectly combine to create the impression (20) (hence the term "overtone") of a fifth note rising above the rest, the ringing chord is an acoustic phenomenon. Highly coveted, the ringing chord elicits what barber shoppers describe as emotional responses that are hair raising. skin prickling, (21) and a tingling of the spine. [22]

Quartets can only achieve this "angel’s (23) voice," nevertheless, with proper breath support and precise vocal technique. Collaboration is also (24) crucial; each participant must listen to the others to (25) sing flawlessly, tuned notes. When the singers each hold a different pitch-perfect note at the correct harmonic interval, the variations in frequencies in their voices (26) overlaps. These audible frequencies above and below the four voices create the (27) illusion of a fifth voice.

Few modern instruments can create this effect because of slight tuning imperfections. Keyboards, for example, are tuned such that a piece of music sounds equally good in any key, though this prevents frequencies from interacting and overlapping (necessary to "ring a chord"). Beyond honoring (28) tradition, then: barber shoppers would be (29) wary of adding instruments that might compromise the beloved ringing chord. 

In crowded New York City subway stations, violinists rarely turn heads, dance troupes spin by unnoticed, and singers often serenade only themselves. But subway (31) artist, Ming Liang Lu, who in 2012 is creating his delicate work at the foot of a Union Square staircase, attracts attention. He's a self-described "master paper portrait cutter," transforming the centuries-old traditional Chinese art of paper cutting [32] by focusing on an untraditional (33) subject, it's the human face.

Lu flags down a passerby who has an intriguing face (34) offering to create a tiny silhouette portrait, needing just a small piece of black paper, razor-sharp scissors. And a few minutes. [2] The model often buys the portrait (35) with a small fee. [3] Many commuters, so taken by the (36) art, and have missed morning trains to have their own likenesses cut. [4] If not, Lu pins it to a white foam (37) board, which has become an eye-catching gallery of dozens of distinct faces whose outlines pop out crisply in black. [38]

Lu begins a portrait by folding a four-by-six-inch rectangle of paper in half and asking (39) them to stand still facing him. He first cuts into the folded (40) edge, carving paper away to shape the model's main facial features, including eyes, nose, and lips. Lu doesn't move the scissors as he works. Instead, he maneuvers the paper along the slightly open scissor blades. [A] He then unfolds his creation, (41) working with scissors to cut out eyebrows, wrinkles, and other details. [B] To finish, he shapes the outer contours of the face, such as the hair and jawline, letting the paper's border fall to the floor.  [C] Lu often exaggerates a model's facial features for whimsical effect, (42) but it's not as if his intentions are cruel. Passersby, seeing Lu's board, sometimes even (43) recognize people from their commute. [D] A bald man in sunglasses, a woman with dreadlocks, a girl wearing hoop earrings, a young boy smiling. One of Lu's admirers claimed that (44) collectively Lu's paper cuttings arranged together create "a New York portrait." [45]

Cephalopods are smart creatures in general. But Thaumoctopus (46) mimicus-the mimic octopus discovered in the estuaries of Indonesia and Malaysia in 1998, exhibits an almost eerie level of intelligence. It appears to be the first known animal (47) who's repertoire of sophisticated deceptive behaviors enables it to imitate multiple animals.

The mimic octopus's habitat, a largely featureless expanse rich in worms, echinoderms, crustaceans, and (48) fishes, is equally rich in predators. With few places to hide, the mimic, like many other (49) cephalopods are dependent on deception for survival.

(50) Its lack of a skeleton allows it to change shape, while chromatophores, (51) tiny sacs of yellow, brown, red, or black pigment located just under the skin, allow it to change color and pattern in less than a second. Unlike most cephalopods, though, this octopus imitates the behavior of other animals as well.

When slowly foraging along the seafloor, probing holes with its arms, trapping prey in its flared (52) web. The mimic typically avoids notice. It assumes a drab, brown color, blending in (53) with the silt and sand.

But (54) as speed increases, it morphs into the teardrop shape of a flatfish, arms trailing behind. Scientists debate (55) whether, in the end, the octopus's final, ultimate goal is to mimic the toxic sole or the unpalatable flounder.

(56) Additionally, the octopus’s intentions appear more certain: when a territorial damselfish is present, for example, the octopus imitates the fish's (57) predator, a venomous banded sea snake. It plunges six arms and its body into the sand, (58) displays a banded black-and-white color pattern, and waves the two free arms in opposite directions. The gesture appears quite effective in warding off an attack.

As yet, scientists have minimal video footage of the mimic octopus, and the momentary glimpses afforded by still photos (59) offered inconclusive evidence for claims about the extent of the octopus's capabilities. Some argue it can mimic up to fifteen species. Others remain unconvinced. Nearly all, however, are awed by its ingenuity.

In the 1920s, Anna Pavlova, Russia's premier ballerina, toured Australia and New Zealand, firing the imaginations of dancers, patrons of ballet, and (61) chefs who found inspiration, few doubt that the meringue (62) dessert known as the pavlova, was created to honor the world-famous dancer. Both Australia and New Zealand, (63) likewise, lay claim to being first to celebrate (64) their luminous costumes and light-footed dancing with puffy clouds of meringue.

In 1935, Chef Herbert Sachse of the Hotel Esplanad in Perth, Australia, (65) commemorated Pavlova’s tour with a dessert he hoped would be as ethereal and delicate as her movements onstage. He started by making a marshmallow-like base of fluffy (66) meringue, it's a blend of whipped egg whites and sugar. He filled the sunken center of the baked meringue with mounds of whipped cream, (67) swirled to suggest a spinning ballerina.

Because Pavlova’s tutu had been speckled with green silk roses, he (68) covered the cream with sliced kiwifruit. To the hotel guests to whom Sachse first served this delicacy, he (69) went, "It is as light as Pavlova." [70]

New Zealanders, however, believe that a dessert was served, (71) very similar to Sachse's confection also in honor of Anna Pavlova, at a hotel in Wellington, New Zealand, as early as I926. Sachse himself said that his own meringue dessert was a fanciful adaptation of a recipe for “meringue cake" that he had found in a magazine. That recipe had been contributed by "Rewa" a woman from New Zealand." [72]

The many variations of the dessert have allowed both countries to (73) call one of their own early recipes as "the original pavlova."  But there were dozens of recipes for pavlova in New Zealand cookbooks by 194 0, the year a pavlova recipe first appeared in an Australian cookbook. Most culinary historians-and even the authoritative Oxford English Dictionary-attribute the original pavlova to New Zealand. (74) Consequently this artistic dessert generously adorns the national cuisine (75) of both countries.