"I'm going to New York because there are nine times as many people there to hate me," said Miami's splenetic Sportscaster Clure Mosher as he prepared to head north to become sports director at WOR. "The first thing I'm going to do is blast Yogi Berra, Ralph Houk and Casey Stengel all in one sentence," he said, licking his chubby chops. "Then," he added, "I'm going out and apply for a license for a submachine gun to protect myself."
One of Japan's few authentic love matches occurred in 1959 when Crown Prince Akihito met a pretty commoner named Michiko on a tennis court and soon after made her his princess. Last week it seemed likely that arrangements of this kind might become the royal fashion as 4-year-old Prince Naruhito, the offspring of the marriage, seized a racket of his own and headed for the grass to have a look around (below).
"I believe women look best either stark naked or completely dressed," said Baroness von Zuylen, strutting around her Paris apartment fully clothed. "But, just the same, topless suits are an amusing and original idea." The baroness, however, is not an athlete, and Australian Olympic Champion Dawn Fraser offered a sportswoman's critique of Rudi Gernreich's innovation in swimming garb. "I know it has been proved that people swim faster in the nude," she said, "but I shall not be seen in a topless suit. I think it's all too coldblooded." Obviously, so does Charles de Gaulle—his French government banned fashion's newest flyer from municipal pools.
Because he heads an oil company that isn't Esso, Thornton F. Bradshaw presumably has to get along without a tiger in his tank. But as all the neighbors around Swarthmore, Pa. know, he's a bear in the swimming pool. "I'm the only member of the family up when I dive into the pool at 6:30 each morning," said Bradshaw last week, "but after two lengths I'm wide awake." Which may help to explain why he was just elected president of the huge Atlantic Refining Co.
After watching her horse, Fury Hanover, finish sixth in the $60,000 United Nations Trot at Yonkers last week, Soprano Anna Moffo was most sympathetic. "Horses and singers are very much alike," she said. "They have their good days and their bad. They are temperamental and sacrifice much for their careers. I understand," she added, "that horses aren't even allowed any sex life until they have finished racing." But there she was wrong. Duke Rodney, the winner of the race Fury lost, had just returned from a season at stud in Scottsville, N.Y.
Everybody knows that Phillie Pitcher Jim Bunning hurled the first perfect game in 84 years in the National League but hardly anybody knows that he has a pitching brother. Lou Bunning, who is five years older than the famous right-hander, once a year takes the mound for the Osborne-Kemper-Thomas calendar company in its annual slow-pitch softball game. After telling everyone that strikeout talent ran in the family, Lou faced his first batter of the season. No-hitter? No no-hitter. The first pitch became a homer.
As far as her fellow sunbathers on the beach at Rio de Janeiro could see, it was all there and it was all real. Nevertheless, Brazil's leading magazine O Cruzeiro complained that Ieda Vargas, Miss Universe of 1963, had falsified—of all things—her nose. Disdaining the charge that she had challenged nature with plastic surgery, the cosmic beauty insisted with an airy sniff: "I was and still am Miss Universe with the nose God gave me."
Some Goldwater fans, they say, would rather fight than switch, but Jackie Robinson was a Rockefeller man and he is planning both to switch and fight. Last week Jackie flew into San Francisco to organize committees to stump for Governor Scranton. During his stay the former baseball star proved that he was consistent on one thing—Casey Stengel. "He's asleep on the bench," said the flexible Republican, "and a lousy baseball manager."
In a special 100-yard walking race for physicians, Queen Elizabeth's consultant, Sir Arthur Porritt, who won an Olympic bronze medal in the 100-meter dash in Paris in 1924, heeled and toed his way to victory. Far behind him, Dr. Roger Bannister, the first man ever to run a four-minute mile, toddled in last.
Jerry West of the Los Angeles Lakers is a pretty handy man to have around a net—but there seems to be some confusion about which net. "No matter when I call Jerry," said Laker Manager Lou Mohs, "he's either gone fishing, going fishing or just back from fishing." "That's pretty true," admitted the compleat backcourt man when he finally showed up again—with a trout limit.
After inspecting the raft Kon-Tiki at a museum near Oslo, Premier Nikita Khrushchev turned to Norwegian explorer Thor Heyerdahl and offered to go along on his next expedition as a cook. "I am willing to sail with you on the raft," said Nikita, "but I warn you that I am not a very good cook." "That doesn't matter," replied Thor, "just bring along lots of Russian caviar."
"I had more time to fish when I was playing baseball than I do now," grumbled Sears, Roebuck supersalesman Ted Williams as he threw out a company line in the Gold Cup light-tackle tarpon championship off Islamorada, Fla. But even with all the traveling his current job entails, the onetime Boston Red Sox home run king did not seem out of shape. He landed the largest tarpon of the tournament, a 96½-pounder.