Well, sure, everybody knows how to pillow-fight, right? In fact, this may be the first sport that kids really get the swing of—and the happy whappers on these pages are proof that nobody ever really grows up in this country. Certainly not in Kenwood, Calif., which is a sedate and proper community of, oh, say, 486 people, including a volunteer fire department, which fixed up this gloopy setting for part of a communitywide celebration. Understand now, this was not just a splash-in-the-pan affair; this was the fourth annual, official U.S. Pillow-Fighting Championship, boy, and entrants came from just about everywhere, even one from Oregon. (Sploosh! Forget the one from Oregon.) Nor was this a hard game to play: the idea is to slide right out there on that greased pole over the mud-bath and whomp away until the loser plops into the ooze. About 40 men and 20 women belted it out for the titles, not that you could tell the boy winners from the girl winners too well. But, golly, nobody cared, since those nice firemen washed down everybody with firehoses when it was all over. They had to wash down the judges four times. About 2,000 spectators came to watch, and the pillow-fight committee sold 16 kegs of beer and maybe a million hot dogs to raise money to build a town plaza. Some big teamster from Pacifica won the men's title, but then Kenwood's very own Janet Geid, 14, came slamming through to capture her third straight women's crown. That Janet, she slithered right home to change clothes because "I wanted to look nice when I was introduced." Probably trying to impress all the fellas, right? Maybe Janet doesn't know that a boy's best friend is his mudder.
Table of Contents
Aug. 3, 1970
- By Peter Carry
Minnesota's Harmon Killebrew always hit for power, and won the MVP that way last year. Now 34, bald and leg-heavy, he is suddenly a .300 hitter, too, and the main reason that the Twins are on top
- PEOPLE 42