Now is a good time to call everybody's attention to some scarcely random notes that arrived this week. In the first place, Actress Nina Foch, whose mother back in The Netherlands was a championship swimmer, reveals she gave up body surfing a couple of years ago following a wipe-out in the rollers of Manhattan Beach, Calif. and now restricts her paddling to a backyard pool. Then, over in London, Playwright Harold Pinter is quoted as saying that he got the inspiration for his latest work, Old Times, while watching a cricket match. Finally, Mayor George Hobbs of Santa Maria, Calif. has upheld the municipal honor by helping win a doubles match in the 1971 Rubel Cup competition between his community and nearby Lompoc.
All of which brings us up to the minute this Columbus Day week on how it is with Nina and Pinter and Santa Maria.
This week's Captains Outrageous award goes to John Fang-man, a police captain from Dubuque, Iowa and a tough law-and-order man. Seems the town's self-proclaimed Midnight Marauders, who heisted a pizza last winter from a Dubuque delivery truck (but later sent money to pay for it), recently proposed a sporting venture. How about a footrace, said the Marauders, between one of their merry band and a policeman, with amnesty for the Marauders if their man won? Win or lose, the band promised to donate a sum to a police charity. No deal, said Captain Fangman. Awww.
Los Angeles' environmental coordinator, Jack L. White, has resigned after only four months on the job. All that smog too much for him? Well, it was not just the smog. He was also frustrated by the municipal chain of command, which had him reporting directly to Arthur O. Spaulding, the city's petroleum administrator.
Whoever called her "The Brute" was on something stronger than a diet cola. Still, this is Actress Elke Sommer, whose forehand smash earned her that nickname, and the forehand is formidable. But so are the neat tennis togs she wears these days, most of which, like these, she designed herself and which she and Hollywood tennis doyenne Joianna Ogner are marketing from their new firm in Beverly Hills. Elke, anyone?
The season is just now hitting its stride, but we've already settled on our choice for football's Family of the Year. Dad and mom are Harry and Anne Mae Latourette of Jonesboro, Ark., and last weekend was fairly typical. On Friday night they went to the local high school game, where daughter Libby performs as a majorette at halftime. Saturday morning they hopped in their Beechcraft Baron and flew to Memphis to see Alan, their son the tailback, play for Southwestern in the afternoon. On to Baton Rouge for the night game between Rice and LSU, where son Bill was a defensive back for Rice. Up in the air again on Sunday to St. Louis in time to see oldest son Chuck at defensive back for the Cardinals. For their sake, we hope Chuck does not get traded to the 49ers.
They've-No-Business-in-Show-Business Dept. There, on center stage at Radio City Music Hall in New York last week, is this guy dressed in a green wind-breaker and khakis and a baseball cap—supposed to be Weeb Ewbank, see? And he's backed up by nine guys in green-and-white football uniforms—the Jets football team, see? And all are singing something called The Big Freeze, a gridiron parody on President Nixon's economic game plan. Aside from the fact that nobody at the Music Hall seemed to know there are 11 chaps on a football team, the singing by baritone Walter Skees and chorus is a definite busted pattern. They should have signed Matt Snell and his old hair-cream ensemble.
Used to be you could tell the good guys from the bad in cowboy movies by the color of their Stetsons. At the Oklahoma State Penitentiary they need something a little more distinctive. During the prison's rodeo, in which convicts ride and rope and bust broncos to help purchase recreational equipment and other goodies, the cons are permitted to don the traditional cowboy hats and blue shirts but they must wear their black-and-white striped trousers to distinguish them from the professional rodeo riders who come in to help. Doesn't seem to rile anybody, especially not Hooley Ben Miller, who is currently serving four years for forgery. "I've been in prison nine times and I wouldn't miss this for anything," says Hooley. "In fact, I've been accused of coming back just for the rodeo."
We recently reported on Ziggy the Elephant, who finally got out of solitary in Brookfield Zoo. Comes now Old Crow, who got himself into solitary in Miyazaki, Japan. Once the pet of a local schoolboy, Crow fell into the habit of pecking children. Housewives who tried to catch him discovered he could speak a few phrases and he became a home-town hero. TV announcer Hiroaki Ishitobi worked with Crow for three days getting him ready for a TV appearance. Alas, Crow refused to talk on camera, so it was off to a children's park, where he once again found his, uh, tongue. Unfortunately, he also found his beak and began pecking again. Now Crow sits in solitary, sulking. And occasionally yelling, "You fool! It serves you damn right!" Does, too.
Here he is, ladies and gentlemen, in this corner, wearing ... whoops, no trunks at all, Roy John. The boxer was apparently so anxious to get into the ring at Johannesburg, South Africa, that his shorts slipped his mind. The officials obviously wish he'd remembered.