Australia has established a review board to deal with appeals against the government's official film censors, and former distance runner Ron Clarke is one of the five appointees. Clarke reports that he normally goes to about four films a year and that he would not choose to see, for example, Women in Love, a flick which, by current standards of permissiveness, comes across as a kind of updated Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. Ah, the innocence of the long-distance runner.
The Stars Who Fell on Alabama Award goes this week to the former Cornelia Ellis Snively, a fetching mother of two who has married Alabama's Governor George Wallace. Now that Lester Maddox has moved out of the governor's mansion in Georgia she may be the real athlete in Southern gubernatorial circles. Mrs. Wallace, who is not only an expert horsewoman but a super water skier, used to star in a Florida Cypress Gardens water show, where she performed a stunt called the backward swan. And you better believe Cornelia's backward swan is a sight better than Les Maddox' backward bike ride.
Lady Jacqueline Rufus Isaacs, the young peeress named in some dispatches as the other woman coming between Princess Margaret and Tony Armstrong-Jones, finally fled from London reporters to the Swiss ski resort of Gsteig. And how goes her holiday? "Too many phone calls," she said glumly, "and not enough snow" (...don?).
Social Blows from All Over:
It was not a good week for spectating, unless taking a shot in the mouth is your thing.
Golfing at the Cypress Creek Country Club in Orlando, Fla., Pitcher Denny McLain missed a putt on the 8th green. Furious, he picked up his ball, tossed it into the air and took a fungo swing at it with his putter, which promptly lost its head. The blade sailed into the mouth of Don O'Malley, a member of McLain's foursome. It was a clean, two-tooth hit, and O'Malley retired to his dentist. "It was one of those things that wouldn't happen in a hundred years," said Club Manager Blair Fasolas. To Denny McLain it might, Blair.
But at least that's good news for some dentist, right? Well, bad news for another dentist comes from Chicago, where this guy is suing because his dental wizard insisted on watching the Bonavena-Ali fight while he was pulling the guy's tooth and—like McLain's putter—lost his head during the excitement. So while all Bonavena suffered was a knockout, the guy in the dentist's chair got his jaw broken. And he didn't even get a share of the gate.
One of the week's participants didn't fare much better. "This morning," announced Maryland Senator Charles Mathias to his colleagues, "I had the unique opportunity of milking the world's champion milk producer—a Maryland holstein cow named Ballad." Ballad, the Senator went on to explain, had just set a 365-day record by coming across with 40,981 pounds of milk, roughly 50 quarts a day. Swell. As long as we don't have to depend on Senator Mathias to do the milking. When he approached Ballad to take a practice squeeze he came in from the wrong side. Ballad kicked him in the chest light but lively.
The Emperor's subjects all bowed low at the tidings from Japan's royal palace, declaring that the auspiciousness of the New Year had been "so much more augmented" by some happy household news. Crown Prince Akihito, a serious ichthyologist specializing in the classification of a fish called the goby, had discovered two members of the family entirely new to Japanese waters. He named one of them nami haze, meaning "wavy goby," because it has a wavy pattern on its sides, and the other minami tobi haze, meaning "southern jumping goby," because (you guessed it) it was found in southern Japanese waters and it jumps. Wonder whatever happened to his Oriental inscrutability?
California State Controller Houston Flournoy had more than finances under control a couple of weeks ago. There was Governor Ronald Reagan, right in the middle of his inaugural ceremony, when out of the crowd at Sacramento's Capitol Park came a flying Valencia—not a Spanish acrobat, but an orange plucked from one of the nearby trees. And there was Flournoy, on Reagan's right, making a sensational shoestring catch. Only it turns out that Flournoy, an old sandlotter from Garden City, Long Island, N.Y., had actually trapped it. "My fielding wasn't so hot in Garden City," he admitted, "and I guess it hasn't improved much."
Just when we'd decided Princeton wasn't so sophisticated after all, they had to hit us with this. Seems the university has three copies of Richard von Krafft-Ebing's Psychopathia Sexualis. Copies one and two of this early-day Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex* (*and then some) are locked away on the shelves of the Firestone Library at Princeton. But, according to a recent issue of Ex Libris, copy three was being kept in the school's Raycroft Collection of Books on Sports, in the gymnasium.
Chicago's Mayor Richard J. Daley, who took the best shots of the Woodstock Nation over the last two years without batting so much as a habeas corpus, is now facing The Man Who Has Everything. His G.O.P. opposition in this year's balloting is an Independent Democrat named Richard E. Friedman, whose list of qualifications includes a glider pilot's license, a brown belt in judo, a green sports car (MG-TC), an orange sports car (Porsche), a red motorcycle and a bronze statue of Diana the Huntress. He also holds university degrees in law and economics and designed his own town house. He once crossed West Africa on his motorcycle, has explored the jungles of Bolivia and climbs mountains. And, just in case it turns out to be that kind of a campaign, he's a good man hot-airwise. He flies a balloon.