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PEOPLE

Nov. 09, 1964
Nov. 09, 1964

Table of Contents
Nov. 9, 1964

Yesterday/Stage Center
The Panic Is On
  • When pro basketball play starts, teams that meet the Boston Celtics fall prey to a strange malady—Russellphobia. The disease is back again this season, and it has helped the champions to a devastating start

Two Flags
Watchers Of The Race
Roberts
College Football
Beastly Place
19th Hole: The Readers Take Over

PEOPLE

Memphis' first authentic baseball hero since Bill Terry, home run hitter Tim McCarver got newspaper headlines, a parade and the key to the city when he went back to the old home town after the Series was won. Cardinal McCarver also received a verbal invoice for services rendered from Monsignor M. F. Kearney of Memphis' Immaculate Conception Church. "I went up to St. Louis on Labor Day and blessed Tim, and the Cardinals won a doubleheader," said the padre, demanding his own World Series cut. "Right," McCarver agreed. "At our club meeting we decided we owed you one blessing."

This is an article from the Nov. 9, 1964 issue Original Layout

"It's the story of a very unfortunate Memphis man who got 'rrested down in old Hong Kong," sang Pianist-Composer Hoagy Carmichael during a memorable movie moment in 1939. And back home in Palm Springs last week The Hoag might have brought the song up to date with only a change or two, like "Tokyo" for "Hong Kong, and "robbed" for "rrested." Carmichael himself was the unfortunate man this time, for there he was in Tokyo, standing with ticket in hand, waiting to get in to the National Gymnasium to watch the Olympic swimmers, and there surrounding him was a bunch of Japanese kids screaming for his autograph. And when the last one of them had gone, there was Hoagy Carmichael with Stardust in his eyes and no ticket.

When both he and France were younger, Charles de Gaulle was a pretty fair fencer, a line equestrian and a passable soccer player. Now that Le Charles is Grander he confines his exercise to playing miniature golf and heckling guests at an annual hunt on his country estate at Rambouillet. "Ah, you've missed again!" he twitted Russia's usually dead-shot Sergei Vinogradov last week as the latter, presumably shaken by events in Moscow, failed to wing a partridge. For what it is worth in political augury, the U.S. fared somewhat better at the French shoot. Ambassador Charles (Chip) Bohlen got the most birds and, hence, the least presidential backtalk.

Once the most adulated girl in Brazil, lithe brunette Maria Esther Bueno, winner of three Wimbledon trophies and two from Forest Hills, is suddenly unpopular enough at home to qualify for nomination as an honorary yanqui. After returning to Sào Paulo at the end of her most successful tour, Maria vented some spleen in the pages of the widely read magazine O Cruzeiro. "I only come to Brazil because of my family," wrote Maria for openers and went on from there. The government, she said, had faulted and double-faulted on a promise to pay for her passage home. When she was alone and sick in Paris, the Brazilian ambassador had promised to send a doctor, but the doctor never showed up. After that, the government withdrew the diplomatic passport Maria used to carry. Now, when she returns to Brazil, Maria has to endure the unabridged ritual of customs and—worst of all—pay duty on the cups she has won.

Even though his wife seems far from convinced in the picture at right, Tory Richard Austen (Rab) Butler was not leveling his gun last week at the Laborite who had just deposed him as Britain's foreign secretary. Relieved of the responsibility of policy making, he was merely taking aim at a pheasant at his farm in Blackmore End, Essex while Mrs. Butler took shelter behind a blind.

While on a much-discussed around-the-world trip at government expense in May of last year, Astronaut Gordon Cooper said he could "see the Salton Sea very clearly." This week Cooper will get an even closer look when he goes into orbit as pilot of a Rayson-Craft ski boat in the $28,000 Salton City 500-mile marathon. Co-drivers for Cooper, winner of the Clear Lake (Texas) Marathon last Labor Day, will be Ogden Phipps, who is better known for racing horses, and Chuck Daigh, who is better known for piloting sports cars.

Always eager to provide entertainment for his team, Alabama Coach Bear Bryant brought a mystery guest to the Tide locker room. Standing with his back to the players as they filed in was a man who strained the seams of jersey No. 73 and distorted the crimson plastic of an Alabama helmet. "Who," asked the fun-loving Bear, "is this 281-pound guard?" But hip Quarterback Joe Namath, a swinging jazz appreciator, was not to be fooled that easily. "Al Hirt!" he shouted, as the bearded trumpeter swung into view. For his guest appearance, Hirt got four tickets to the Alabama-LSU game. "I was willing to do or say anything to get tickets to that game," he said.

Quite by accident, two old teammates on the same Bartow, Fla. kindergarten sports squad (class of '97) had a little reunion of their own at the University of Florida homecoming game. Retired General James Van Fleet, 72, and U.S. Senator Spessard Holland, 72, bumped into one another in the crowd of 75,000 and fell to reminiscing over the old days when the Big Man on Campus among the 5-year-olds was the man who could handle a beanbag.

Sam Snead, a hunter whose foraging has been mostly restricted to small varmints within convenient range of the golf course at The Greenbrier in White Sulphur Springs, W. Va., is finally getting to Africa for a big-game safari. Sammy and his 20-year-old son Jack left their golf bags at home when they departed for Dar es Salaam last week. However, that does not necessarily mean that the Tanganyika animal population will be laid low with high-powered rifles. "I think I'll take along one four-iron," said cautious Sam, "and try a shot or two with that."

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