Mrs. Richard Burton, that Elizabeth more British than the Queen, arrived in London with dark glasses hiding a black eye and a plaster stuck to her white-marble forehead. "I had a bit of an accident in Switzerland," she declared. "I was tobogganing with the children and we had a fall." That was at least more plausible than earlier reports of a skiing accident, since film producers had forbidden the Burtons to ski.
When Edson Arantes do Nascimento of Brazil, better known as Pelé, plays soccer in Germany, seats are sold out weeks in advance. When the world's most adulated professional athlete is scheduled in Spain, fans wreck ticket booths. Prince Philip, visiting Brazil, said there were two things he wanted to see: Sugar Loaf and Pelé. Now the inevitable has happened. Santos, his home town, has opened a museum devoted wholly to Pelé. In a place of honor among the predictable soccer shirts, shoes, balls, statues and ribbons is a not-so-predictable shoeshine box, the same one Pelé carried as a boy to earn money for his family back in Bauru. "Nobody can imagine how hard I had to work just to buy the materials for this box," said Pelé soberly, whose annual income is now some $200,000.
In new Minority Leader Gerald Ford, Republicans in the House of Representatives now have a man capable of blunting any legislative flying wedge the Democrats might attempt. Ford was a center on the University of Michigan football teams of 1932-34, good enough to play in the East-West and College All-Star games. Representative Ford, moreover, is in excellent playing condition. Every morning and evening he swims a long session of laps in his heated pool ("I'm often awakened by a splash in the dark hour before dawn," says Mrs. Ford), and he spent the days just before the House leadership light skiing at Boyne Mountain, Mich. Ford also golfs, but more often he plays tennis and tosses a football around with his family. Reports his wife, "He's made a fine center out of our 7-year-old, Susan."
Dr. Billy Graham (left) turned up at the University of Illinois, not to minister but to be ministered unto. Specifically, Dr. T. K. Cureton's Physical Fitness Laboratory was measuring what progress its well-known subject was making in his fitness regimen, since tests had shown him "slightly under average in cardiovascular reaction, strength and motor ability." Said Cureton: "Dr. Graham was exhausting his nervous system by the tremendous effort he makes in speaking. There is some improvement now."
The Irish Republican Army was not impressed by the argument that Princess Margaret was visiting Fire as plain Mrs. Antony Armstrong-Jones. When Tony led a nine-gun pheasant-hunting party across the grounds of Birr Castle, home of his mother, the Countess of Rosse, I.R.A. threats necessitated more firearms among the bodyguards than among the hunters. Most of a 100-man police guard went along. Nothing happened, however, until several nights later, when members of the I.R.A. felled trees to block estate roads, shattered manor windows with a bomb and threw Molotov cocktails at pursuers. This was not very nice of them, especially since Tony and Margaret had visited the town pub the previous evening—to sing Irish songs with the other customers.
Living like a family of trolls in Hubert Humphrey's basement are a top-secret number of Secret Service men, who emerge, blinking, only occasionally. Since Veep Humphrey's Chevy Chase house is relatively tiny, the men are exiled to the pine-paneled "recreation" room, a misnamed affair devoid of ping-pong table or dart board. The job does, however, have compensations. Munching lunch from brown paper bags, the Secret Service has scrutinized every play of the AFL and NFL championship games, several bowl games and last week's NFL All-Star game. "We are more comfortable in the Humphrey basement than in many other quarters we are required to inhabit," said one Secret Service man.
Jack Nicklaus (right), world's highest-paid basketball player, drove, rebounded and jump-shot in a rough-and-tumble half-court pickup game. A onetime Upper Arlington high school basketball star, Nicklaus recklessly threw about his $100,000-plus extremities, playing a full, sweaty hour, preceded by a quarter-mile jog around the Athletic Club of Columbus' indoor track. He then finished with a handball game with amateur golfing buddy Pandel Savic, Ohio State quarterback on the 1950 Rose Bowl team. "Just rest and relaxation," said Jack, un-tempted by the start of the pro tour in Los Angeles. "No golf for me."
"I'm feeling good," said Carl Sandburg on his 87th birthday, although he declined to lift a chair over his head with one hand—a daily constitutional ascribed to him by biographer Harry Golden. But Sandburg continues to hike through the woods around Flat Rock, N.C. every sunny day, collecting leaves, pine cones, lichen, nuts and seeds, and he admits spending an unpoetic amount of time watching ball games—"any kind"—on television.
Because of the hunter from Huntsville (Ala.), not one member of the Saline River Deer Club bagged a buck in deer-infested Grant County, Ark. The club members were only slightly interested in bagged deer, anyway, preferring to gawk at their bugged guest, Wernher von Braun. Dr. von Braun was on a brief vacation, but he had been wired for sound by the space center so they could contact him every two hours via walkie-talkie and two-way radio.