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Original Issue


The fellow with the puffed-out cheeks is retired Army bugler Charles (Pat) Walker, who assigned himself some time ago to tootle the Baltimore Orioles to triumph. Pat figured that the usual tape-recorded "cavalry charge" played in Memorial Stadium was not good enough, so he put together a "baseball bugle-ography" suitable for 22 different situations in the game. He even switches when necessary from Army bugle to fl√ºgelhorn, which produces high, clear tones for those high, clear balls popped to short. His own personally designed uniform of dress blues with yellow stripes on the trousers, hash marks on the sleeves and campaign ribbons completes the picture. The only tune our intrepid bugler won't bugle is taps—not even if the team is dying out there.

Our Vive la Difference Award goes this week to the American Motorcycle Association for promptly suspending Grand National champion cyclist Eugene Romero, along with three others. The AMA says the four forged a doctor's signature on some routine medical forms required of professional racers. The guys would have gotten away with it, too—had not a sharp-eyed official noticed that the physician whose name they had used was a specialist in obstetrics and gynecology.

Lest it get lost in the furtive shuffle of secret memos floating around, we boldly release this one from Representative Silvio Conte (R., Mass.) to freshman Congressmen he hoped to recruit for the annual Roll Call Congressional Baseball Game played last week in Washington: "If you can wing the ball a distance at least equal to the diagonal of your new desk; if you can run the 40 in 4.5 (minutes not seconds) and if you can stand the adulation that naturally is showered upon members of the Republican Congressional baseball team, then you are the type of barely-over-t he-hill-athlete-statesman we need." Result: a 21-man squad turned out, including Pete McCloskey, Barry Goldwater Jr. and Bob Mathias. Republicans beat the Democrats 7-3. Conte did not play. He had busted a couple of fingers in a practice session. Probably trying to wing a ball diagonally across his desk.

Scene: a nice afternoon in New York's Central Park. Suddenly, out of the sky, comes aerial photographer Sean O'Reilly on the end of a parachute. A policeman nabs him. "Don't you know there is an ordinance against parachuting within city limits?" thunders the law. Well, explains O'Reilly, "I fell out of a plane."

Forty-Niner Tackle Charley Krueger is still one of those old-fashioned, true-blue guys when it comes to girl friend Kris Adler. Not long ago (SI, Oct. 5, 1970) there was Charley, renting a tux and trailing Kris to the San Francisco Opera, which her father manages. And they're still together—just out of a hospital where Kris was sent to recuperate from meningitis. You know how it is: Charley found himself spending so much time visiting his girl that he decided to go ahead with a long-delayed knee operation. "Since I was at the hospital anyhow," explained Krueger. Football, opera, formal wear and love lovers will be glad to hear that both patients are now recovered and were released last week, just in time for Charley to get ready for the exhibition season.

Look, motor sports, it's old Stirling Moss on his bicycle. And why is Moss pedaling? Well, the 41-year-old racing notable was zinging along in his Volvo and strayed over the double white line. The British are big on staying within the lines, and Stirling was snared by an off-duty policeman. In court everyone, including the judge, told Moss what a great driver he is. Then they took away his license for six months. That was last April. "I'll apply for a foreign license," sulked Moss after losing an appeal, "probably in America." Then on a recent U.S. trip he saw our freeways. And that is why Stirling Moss is back in England riding that dumb bicycle.

More or less in the same cycle of events we offer 22-year-old student nurse Edie Barrett pedaling peacefully along a Boston street when up dashes police Detective Joseph Lundbohm and commandeers her bike. He then careens through traffic after a fleeing thief, makes the arrest—and returns the cycle to an astonished Edie. "It was faster than my squad car," explained Lundbohm the lawman.

See, Stirling?

Farmer Fritz Wafler of Wolcott, N.Y. is a sporting cutup: he recently set a record by slicing 912 inches of unbroken apple peel from a new variety of big apple called the Mutsu. Neighbor Frank Freer trailed with 843 inches of U.A.P. Fritz and Frank will get to the core of their competition when they meet in September on the playing fields of the Wolcott Apple Harvest Festival. All other knife-wielding contestants welcome. Bring your own Mutsu.

All during her childhood her sports-conscious dad and brothers kept yelling, "Don't throw like a girl! Don't run like a girl!" So Pat Palinkas tried and, sure enough, she grew up to join the Orlando Panthers as a placekick holder. She also grew up to be 5'8", 127 pounds and 35-25-34, and last week Pat was named to the list of the 10 most glamorous girls in sports by the American Society of Girl Watchers. "I don't think you should lose your femininity just because you're playing a man's game," says Pat, who still throws like a girl, adding that she always dons mascara, eye liner and lipstick before suiting up.