Wowie! I'm going to Maui (Tank Heaven for Not So Little Girls, Jan. 24).
Tank heaven for SI for helping us make it through the long, cold winter.
Kindly extend my subscription through the year 2000. I needed that.
Tanks, shmanks. We want bikinis!
ANDY J. KULES
February 7, 1977
Your Maui cover girl sure is zowie, but what place do she and her cohorts have in a sports magazine? She surely wasn't put there because of her extraordinary swimming ability. Pictures of this type detract greatly from the quality of SI.
University Park, Pa.
The suits worn by the girls on the last two pages of your pictorial display do not look as if they are worthy to be worn in any aquatic event or for the simple pleasures of fun in the sun. SI should not be a forum for suggestive advertising.
It was just one more example of the exploitation of women to profit yourselves.
Please put me on record as one chick who looks forward to your swimsuit issue. The suits are the best yet.
Your Jan. 24 issue came as a tremendous shock. When I bought my son Mike a birthday subscription, I had no inkling that your magazine should be kept in a brown paper bag, to be unseen by innocent eyes. If you really think these photographs represent a sport, you are in the wrong business.
MRS. R. A. SULLIVAN
I thought the girls were great, but if we want to see that sort of thing we can get it in other magazines. Give us sports.
Your splendid midwinter swimwear article gives us readers a tremendous respite from the bitter cold and sloppy snow. As for your models, well, they could tastefully decorate any sport. So please disregard the outcries of wounded purists and other special-interest groups and keep on splashing every January.
Cancel my subscription at once. Imagine, only one picture of Cheryl Tiegs.
Giving Cheryl Tiegs such a small part in the article is like benching Henry Aaron after his 713th home run. Cheryl has been the perennial superstar of the bathing suit issue and we would like to see her back in the starting lineup. This is not intended to take away from the other girls' beauty, but in the future we would like to see more of Cheryl.
Rock Island, Ill.
•For more Cheryl, see below.—ED.
Frank Deford lost a long-time fan with his article on Hawaii (Three Little Syllables. Jan. 24). If he and other tourists haven't the initiative to escape the lockstep of guided tours, they deserve all the rubber roast pork and "tedious historical hula shows" they get. There are some 850,000 permanent residents of this "theme park," most with little or no connection with tourism. I lived there for five years, and I would gladly live there again. As for the famous promontory that "looms over Honolulu," perhaps Deford would be able to remember the name Diamond Head if he would just stop calling it Sugarloaf.
DONNA L. NELSON
The article on Hawaii is narrow-sighted. Frank Deford's first impression led him straight to Waikiki and off the right track immediately. If he intended to write an article on the disillusionment of tourism, Waikiki was a good example. But I lived in Hawaii the past four years, and within the first week a very distinct line had been drawn between the personalities of Waikiki (Alohaland) and of The Islands. Anybody who has spent any time away from the tourist routes could tell Deford that. He missed the whole point behind Hawaii's uniqueness. For paradise to survive it had to conform to the reality of tourism and being part of the U.S. and lose a few small treasures in order to save many more beautiful ones.
While stumbling about "tourist" Hawaii. Frank Deford has displayed astounding superficiality and cultural arrogance. Had he ventured under a few of those "corrugated tin roofs," he would have found not Caribbean poverty but Americans with a uniquely rich life-style and multi-faceted culture. Deford's puerile attempt at the tongue in cheek only achieved a foot in the mouth. We trust that you will exercise better editorial judgment in the future.
PAUL and MYRNA MUTO
Mercer Island, Wash.
The next time you send Frank Deford to Hawaii, make sure that he leaves his white shoes and Big Mac coupons at home. A package deal is no way to see The Islands, even in this "commercial" time.
R. JAMES SCHILLAT
King of Prussia, Pa.
LEFT IS ALL RIGHT
As a lefthander who has become both-handed in order to cope with society's devices, let me offer my praise on Jerry Kirshenbaum's fine article (On the Other Hand, Jan. 24). It does justice to us lefties. And, believe me, this is not a left-handed compliment.
HOWARD A. WOLF
My father (H. W. Robertson of Newark, Ohio) was a good left-handed semipro pitcher in the '20s and '30s. He writes and eats right-handed. I was a pretty fair right-handed high school and college pitcher in the '40s and '50s. I write and eat left-handed. Neither of us has yet been certified as crazy, albeit he thinks I am a little peculiar.
ROBERT L. ROBERTSON
Santa Fe, N. Mex.
Being the only lefty in my family, I was overjoyed when I read Jerry Kirshenbaum's article. Imagine my delight in discovering I had something in common with Bruce Jenner, Jimmy Connors and Ken Stabler.
You did not mention one of baseball's greatest left-handed flakes, Jay Johnstone of the Phillies. He has been known to set off firecrackers in the dugout and shine his shoes in the on-deck circle. By the way, he also batted .318 in 1976 and .329 in 1975.
I thoroughly enjoyed J. D. Reed's article on our national anthem (Gallantly Screaming, Jan. 3). However, as one who has often heard Seattle's Bob McGrath sing before athletic events, I feel I should set the record straight. Reed takes McGrath to task for singing the third verse of The Star-Spangled Banner, claiming it is poor diplomacy. I agree that the lyrics Reed gives as the third verse are hardly suitable for pregame festivities. The truth is, McGrath does not sing that verse. He sings the one that begins "Oh, thus be it ever, when free men shall stand...." Whether or not McGrath's verse is actually the third is not important. What does matter is that the misunderstanding be rectified.
Address editorial mail to SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, Time & Life Building, Rockefeller Center, New York, New York, 10020.