As the world's turning brought the new year, vital statistics almost crowded the traditional avalanche of other year-end statistics off the sports pages. Official earned run averages, yards gained rushing and won-lost records seemed pale, for instance, when compared with a marriage, the birth of twins and an engagement that, well, wasn't quite.
A Queen's daughter is Dayle Coumbe of San Marino, Calif.—at 11 old enough to follow her mother's precedent and fill a role in Pasadena's annual Rose Bowl pageant on New Year's Day. Dayle's mission: to ride on the Quaker Oats float, dressed as a little ballerina dreaming of the day she will perform in Swan Lake. Admiring her daughter's costume is Mrs. Cheryl Walker Coumbe, Rose Queen of the 1938 bowl game ( California 13, Alabama 0). Mrs. Coumbe's brief reign brought her a measure of fame. The day after the game she was signed by Paramount and a six-year film career followed, including a starring role in the wartime hit, Stage Door Canteen. She is married to Dr. Jay E. Coumbe, head of the radiology department at Covina Hospital, is an enthusiastic gardener—she landscaped her own yard—and shoots golf in the 90s.
An engaging yarn was the news story that Paul Hornung, Green Bay Packer back, had sent an engagement ring inside a football as a Christmas present to Pat Mowry (above), a Los Angeles TV actress and former Miss New Hampshire. Hornung said it wasn't so. "I don't think it was very funny," he said, "although I laughed when I heard about it." Wailed Pat: "This whole thing has made me so sick, I just feel like taking some pills and going to bed." She blamed the report on "this girl who came in from Las Vegas...really a nowhere character.... I've been out with Elvis Presley and all, but it hurts because I really am in love with Paul. I mean, I haven't dated any other fellow."
To the church on time is Don Larsen, Yankee right-hander and onetime Playboy of the Baseball World, who, or so they once said, feared nothing but too much sleep. Larsen, 28, celebrated for pitching the only perfect game in World Series history, was married at Benson, Minn. to Corrine Audrey Bruess, 26, a former airline stewardess.
A bumper crop of babies, the best of all possible Christmas presents, arrived in the households of the Bobby Morrows (left), Mickey Mantles (above) and Ray Crones (right). At Joplin, Mo. Merlyn Mantle gave birth to a husky 7-pound 15-ounce boy—her third—who was named Billy after Mickey's buddy and former Yankee teammate, Billy Martin. Martin, whose real name, incidentally, is Alfred Manuel, was on a deer hunting trip with Mantle in Texas when the baby arrived. It was twins at Abilene, Texas for Jo Ann Morrow, wife of the 1956 Olympic triple gold medal winner: Viki Jo (left), 5 pounds 4� ounces, and Ron Floyd, 5 pounds 11 ounces. "That boy does everything first class," said Bobby's track coach, Oliver Jackson. Joan Crone, whose husband pitches for the San Francisco Giants, had a daughter, Mary Ellen (7 pounds 6 ounces), at Windsor, Conn. Peering curiously from the arms of Papa is 15-month-old Carol Anne.
MEN AND THEIR DECISIONS
Bert Bell, who said "No" to the governor
The boss of the National Football League is a short, fat man with a will of iron. If and when he has made a decision it is useless to attempt to change his mind, either by threat or persuasion. Even if, like G. Mennen (Soapy) Williams, you happen to be the governor of Michigan.
Governor Williams learned this last week after Bert Bell announced that there would be no Detroit area TV of the Detroit Lions-Cleveland Browns championship game (see page 8), even though the Detroit stadium was sold out. Joined by other Michigan politicos bright enough to see that a fan is nothing more or less than a voter, Soapy wired Bell urging him to reconsider "in the interest of the sport."