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PEOPLE

Aug. 17, 1964
Aug. 17, 1964

Table of Contents
Aug. 17, 1964

Letter To The Publisher
Three Arms
'I Managed Good'
Fishing
Track & Field
Motor Sports
Hudson River
Baseball's Week
19th Hole: The Readers Take Over

PEOPLE

It was a lovely Saturday on the brink, so two old soldiers took a rare holiday and spent the afternoon together on the beach at Vung Tau (formerly Cap Saint Jacques) in South Vietnam. Premier Nguyen Khanh, wearing white shirt and shorts, lounged in a beach chair on the sand and watched Ambassador Maxwell Taylor shed his blue-and-white sports shirt and plunge into the surf for a swim. "C'est magnifique," exclaimed the polylingual diplomat, but the magnificence didn't last long. Next day all hell broke loose on the Gulf of Tonkin and the holiday was over.

This is an article from the Aug. 17, 1964 issue Original Layout

"I'm so tired I can hardly move," said Jackie Gleason in Miami Beach after completing 36 holes (81-83) on the Doral Country Club's difficult Blue Course. Gleason played with a brand-new set of clubs given him by his hero, Arnold Palmer (Jackie also owns a 14K-gold putter with a mink mitten to protect it). On the wagon but scarcely less bulky than before, Jackie covered the Doral course in a baby-blue golf cart equipped with TV set, walkie-talkie and mahogany bar packed with diet soft drinks. His golf balls, personally engraved, were the gift of Miami Beach's Mayor Mel Richard, who couldn't be happier to have so much news-making noise back in town.

While their fathers talked about housing, poverty and—just possibly—the vice-presidency of the U.S., the Johnson girls, Luci Baines, 17, and Lynda Bird, 20, splashed with the Wagner boys, Duncan, 17, and Bob Jr., 20, in the White House swimming pool. After that all four of them had a fling at the bowling alley in the Executive Office Building next door ("I think someone built it for one of President Truman's birthdays," said young Bob Wagner). All in all, the Wagners had such fun with the Johnsons over their White House weekend that they asked the President's daughters to visit them in New York.

Lest tennis fans wonder, top U.S. Davis Cupper Chuck McKinley has not permanently abandoned the court for the links. "I'm a terrible golfer, but I enjoy it, so I played a few times," said Chuck, caught on a fairway during the Eastern grass court championship last week. "I just thought it was time to lay off tennis for a few days."

Physically fit at 36-24-35, Mamie Van Doren is not opposed to international competition on the distaff side. It's just that she thinks there are better ways to compete than by tossing a javelin or running around a cinder track. "When I walk down the street with a date," said Mamie last week, "I want people to know which one of us is the man. As for javelins, they'll never make one that's as good a weapon as perfume."

If impeccable Sam Snead votes Republican this year, it will just be backlash from that terrible moment 24 years ago when he saw walking toward him in the Phoenix Country Club pro-am tournament an assigned partner dressed in blue jeans, tennis shoes, T shirt and a tengallon hat. And if Barry Goldwater hadn't followed his first botched tee shot with two birdies and an eagle on consecutive holes to help Sam win the tournament, the latter might never have recovered his composure at all. Golfer Goldwater (right) now shoots regularly in the high 70s and Snead has not only forgiven him those terrible clothes, but become his fast friend.

Young (23) Winnie Churchill was scarcely married to his new bride Minnie when the rumors started whirling that he was about to fly away from her. As a matter of fact, he was. A hot pilot and as eager for adventure as his famed grandfather, young Churchill is planning to try for a new round-the-world record in light planes. But not alone—he will be co-pilot for another grandpa, Max Conrad.

The vipers and varmints in Florida's swamps can relax. It isn't true that their spiritual Mom, Author Philip Wylie, was about to leave them. Wylie, a conservationist who hates industrial predators as much as mothers, sold his four-acre estate in Miami only to buy another, even closer to nature.

"We swim and ski and skate and sail and paddle," says Mrs. S. Braley Gray of Old Town, Me. And up to the time Mrs. Gray married Mr. Gray, that's about all they did. But Mrs. Gray, a southern girl, brought a horse into the Maine family that has been making the world's best canoes for as long as most sportsmen can remember. Ever since then the Old Town Grays have been swimming and skiing and skating and sailing and paddling and riding as well—riding so expertly, in fact, that last week their eldest daughter won the top prize at Canada's famed National Pony Club Rally.

Being a Beatle fan is not, in general, a profitable preoccupation. But it paid off in cash at 2 to 1 last week when Drake's Drum galloped home first at Yorkshire's Ripon track. Drum is owned by Beatle Paul McCartney's father, and according to a British bookie, "All the housewives backed it."

"Until the day I was champion, I was hungry," said Ingemar Johansson last week in the Miami Beach Convention Hall where he lost his heavyweight title. "Then, after I win, I start to do bad things." Not all bad, however. Ingo was back in Miami Beach for the specific purpose of helping to pick another world champion—Miss Universe of 1964.

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