The husband-and-wife comedy team of Mimi Hines and Phil Ford (formerly of Funny Girt) travels in a minibus. Phil, a golfer, likes it because he can park at a golf course and tee off in the morning without waking Mimi, who likes it for the same reason. The other morning, while they were parked at a suburban Chicago golf course, a ball smashed through a window while Mimi was sleeping, bounced all over the minibus and landed in the kitchen area, scattering glass over the bed and upsetting a bowl of Jell-O Mimi had prepared the night before. Phil had already teed off. Mimi was.
Among the 139 intrepid heroes who gathered in London for a reunion of holders of the Victoria Cross and the George Cross (Britain's highest awards for bravery) was Edwardo Omara, 70, a hunter from Northern Uganda. Back in 1934 Omara became known in limited African circles as a brave man when a fire-crazed elephant tore into a village and he killed it with a spear. His reputation was extended a short time later when a wounded elephant pinned a game warden to the ground. Never having learned to use a gun, Omara clubbed the elephant with the warden's rifle until it released its victim and then killed it with his spear. That made him one of the 103 people in the world who hold the George Cross. Still unable to speak English (or to use firearms), Omara was presented to the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, honored at dinners and receptions and at the Queen's Birthday Parade.
Joe Namath is in Rome making a film, The Last Rebel. This is his first trip to Europe and, not speaking Italian, he has found his usual style somewhat cramped. "You can't talk to the girls," he says mournfully—which is how he and a friend happened to spend an evening riding around Rome on motor scooters. "We ended up down by the river, and there was this old guy standing there fishing, just fishing," he reported. "We couldn't understand what he said, but he gave us some bait and we stayed there fishing, too, while it got light." It is not reported that Joe caught anything, but at least the fishing didn't hurt. His role in the movie requires him to do an awful lot of riding, and for the first few days he suffered considerable pain somewhat north, for a change, of his knees.
It is Dr. Palmer, now that Arnie has received an honorary law degree from his alma mater. Wake Forest University in North Carolina. The citation said, among other splendid things, "He has 70 championship titles and, in addition to the unfailing support of old friends, the unmatched loyalty of millions of admirers. Arnold Palmer is also a successful businessman, and since last October Chairman of the Wake Forest University Board of Visitors. To all his activities he brings the daring, the sincerity, the unalloyed decency that have made him the greatest athlete of his generation." Palmer said, "It was a thrill and a completely new and different experience." He might have added that it was also one he had no reason to expect. Palmer never did graduate from Wake Forest. Not only that, he went there on a football scholarship and, as he recalled last week, the Wake Forest football coach, Peahead Walker, once told him sternly, "If you'd just played football instead of wasting your time hitting a golf ball, you'd have been the greatest running back-in history."
June 21, 1970
Wes Parker, who is variously described as handsome, tall, trim, wealthy, single, intelligent, a debonair dresser, an expert bridge player and the finest Dodger first baseman since Gil Hodges left, has taken on a new career—he is a radio commentator from 8 to midnight on station KFI in Los Angeles, the Dodgers' schedule permitting. His contract calls for him to be on the air on Monday nights when possible, but he often appears during the week as well—"If the Dodgers win," says Dave Hull, who conducts the show, "he'll stop in." Parker just talks "a little bit about baseball," he says, "but mostly about music, bridge and items of interest out of the news. I don't think I'd ever want to do play-by-play sports." But lately there has been a decline in the cultural level of his program. "A few nights ago we asked people to send in straight pins to stick in a Cincinnati doll," says Hull. "It looked like the only way we could catch Cincinnati. We've got about a thousand now, but we'll soon have 50,000."
Also progressing is Sir Laurence Olivier, who has moved up Queen Elizabeth's honors' list from knight to baron, thus becoming the first English actor to receive a life peerage. And what is the baron's latest theatrical undertaking? The role of Nathan Detroit in Frank Loesser's Guys and Dolls. "I have never snatched so quickly at a role in my life," says Lord Olivier of his decision to play that beleaguered promotor of "the oldest, established, permanent, floating crap game in New York"—which will remain a crap game in the London National Theatre version because, as a spokesman for the theatre observes, "there is no English equivalent." "This is no joke," ; Lord Olivier has said firmly. "We are taking it very seriously [and] we shall be doing the Broadway accent absolutely faithfully." The company does not even plan to alter the lines of the horseplayers' song, the ones that say: "I got the horse right here, the name is Paul Revere." Nobody, it turns out, knows who Paul Revere was.