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PEOPLE
SPORTING PARTIES I
Hosts of the Week are Fireball, Tobe, Chickenman, and possibly even Jarbo and Foo-Foo, for their postfight get-together in Atlanta, the one where some 200 guests were taken for some $200,000. It seems Atlanta's Gordon (Chickenman) Williams, reputed onetime lottery kingpin, was approached by a friend known only as Fireball and asked to throw a birthday party for a friend known only as Tobe (the roles of Jarbo and Foo-Foo are unclear. Atlanta police would like to know whether they just promised to bring the salad and the chili, or what). So Chickenman kindly okayed the use of his house. Fancy engraved invitations were mailed and others were passed around after the fight, but arriving guests found things more radical than chic. Gunmen with sawed-off shotguns robbed them and made many of them strip and lie on the cellar floor, which became very crowded (hostesses, please note: more guests will fit into your basement if you have them stand, rather than lie, on the floor). About 3, the gunmen swept the loot into pillowcases and departed, leaving it pretty much up to Chickenman to explain matters to the police. Anybody who thought the whole thing was his fault, said Chickenman, "laid an egg. Those dudes took $971 off me. And ripped my suit." He also was out the price of one birthday cake, though on the positive side, police report that he was left with quite a lot of pantyhose in his basement.
SPORTING PARTIES II
Meanwhile, in Chicago, Mr. and Mrs. Gale Sayers, Sid Luckman, Kay Stevens, Teamster official Harold Gibbons and 70 others dropped by another party to watch the fight on a private, closed-circuit hookup, have a few drinks and go home early. For so decorous an affair at the Playboy mansion Hugh Hefner does not get to be a Host of the Week.
"They phoned me all week," says football's Ernie Nevers. "Congratulations on my winnings, regrets on our golf tournament." Nevers got word, in the same mail, that he'd won $500 in the New York State Lottery and £100 in the Irish Sweepstakes, but his pleasure was not, as they say, unalloyed. He also is president of the Northern California chapter of the National Football Foundation and Hall of Fame, and the old NCC of the NFF and H. of F. had scheduled a big fund-raising golf tournament and banquet for Monday, Oct. 26. Nevers now reports they'll hold the tournament next spring, carefully avoiding the night of the Ali-Frazier fight, and presumably he now feels free to at least smile about winning all that money.
Look, fellas, there is E. J. Holub of the Kansas City Chiefs being helped into his false eyelashes which, as you can plainly see, transform him from the drab 6'4", 236-pound weakling on the left to that irresistible creature on the right. The Chiefs' Jim Tyrer, Jerry Mays and Holub are promoting the sale of—are you ready?—Guylashes, because, Tyrer explains, the trend is toward men enhancing their masculinity "with more flamboyant dress and increased use of hairpieces." He also explains that he himself does not plan to wear Guylashes "because, well, I've already got naturally long eyelashes and don't feel any need to enhance my masculinity."
And men, if your hair problem is even more basic than being cursed with little stubby eyelashes—like if you're actually bald—you can now purchase something called Joe Pepitone's Hair. This is a Japanese modacrylic that comes in 18 decorator colors and retails for about $40 a wig—which is an easier and cheaper deal, anyway, than sticking Guylashes one by one all over your head.
Rumanian President Nicolae Ceausescu was touring Colonial Williamsburg when he suddenly remarked that what he would really enjoy would be a game of volleyball. Volleyball is not Colonial Williamsburg's thing, but anything for a state guest, right? Officials sent to the College of William & Mary for equipment, and after lunch a game was set up behind the 18th-century Allen-Byrd house. President Ceausescu and his wife played two games for Rumania, won both, and in the second inflicted not only defeat but humiliation upon the U.S. team. Ceausescu's exertions did not even require him to remove his vest, but the exertions of Assistant U.S. Chief of Protocol William Codus caused him to split his pants.
Which brings us to Esther Williams. "Natural stresses beyond Esther's control," explains a fellow guest at producer Aaron Spelling's Beverly Hills home, "caused the pants of the swimming star's pants suit to give way." (American pants aren't what they used to be.) Cesar Romero was the first to notice, but said he really didn't know what to do about it (Cesar Romero isn't what he used to be). "Tell her husband," someone suggested. Her husband told Esther. Esther said to Cesar, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Cesar said to Esther, "But I was enjoying it!" (Cesar Romero is what he used to be.)
The End.
The Times of London reports that Spain's El Cordobés has arrived for a two-month visit to Britain "to learn English so that he can star in the film story of his life." Wonderful. Still no word as to whether his native country rates a dubbed version or is going to have to make do with Spanish subtitles.
Button, Button
James (Bud) Jack, Utah athletic director, lost a button from his shirt before the Utah-Wyoming game and put it away in a coat pocket. Later on, things got a bit sticky for the Utes and Bud's head began to pound, so he reached into his pocket for an aspirin and....
TWO PHOTOS
