But what a parade for Fanfaron! Such a kicking and screaming and bucking and snorting and the lashing out with a hoof that nearly brained a poor butcher, respected citizen of France though he was! Other butchers rushed to help, but before they could attack Fanfaron the voice of Monsieur Auteroche was heard loud and clear: "Attendez! Such spirit is not for hamburger! Nor yet for meat loaf! I take this one for myself! This one I shall race!"
Monsieur Auteroche was as good as his word. He sent Fanfaron to a stable near Chantilly and put him into training as a steeplechaser. Last April, Fanfaron's big test came. He was entered in Prix des Landes at Enghein. How did he run? As from a butcher, galloping (some say looking back fearfully over his shoulder) to an easy victory. Monsieur Auteroche entered him again and again, and in eight starts Fanfaron won four times, placed second twice, won a total of 4 million francs. The newspaper headlines screamed: FANFARON DOMINATES FIELD, FANFARON LOOKS STRONG CONTENDER, and soon Fanfaron became a national favorite, especially delighted his fans by winning a flat race at Longchamp, a thing most unusual for a horse trained to jump. More recently, Fanfaron won at the Auteuil track in Paris, the purse amounting to 1.5 million francs, which is not hay, nor yet hamburger.
"He will win many times more," said Monsieur Auteroche the other day as he stood in the courtyard of the abattoir, dressed as usual in his blue smock and blue fedora and watching the parade of the old and tired horses without the strength to kick and snort and win a reprieve like Fanfaron.
As for Fanfaron, he was taking no chances. Last Sunday afternoon he was entered in the Prix Georges Brinquant at the Auteuil track in Paris. And, as usual, one would have thought the butchers were after him. He won by 2� lengths, bringing Monsieur Auteroche another 2 million francs.
DODGERS' DOME (CONT.)
The day could scarcely have been better for the purpose. Outside, the snow fell thickly on Princeton's Palmer Stadium and ushers carried snow shovels to clear seats for early arrivals at the Princeton-Dartmouth game. But inside the laboratory of the School of Architecture, the men were snug and warm as they inspected a model of a new kind of stadium that might put sports events (specifically the ball games of the Brooklyn Dodgers) beyond the reach of the worst of weather.
The men in the laboratory included R. Buckminster Fuller, distinguished designer of geodesic, igloo-like structures and a visiting professor at Princeton and other universities, and Walter O'Malley, president of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who, months ago, had proposed that Mr. Fuller design a domed stadium that would be practical for baseball. Mr. Fuller not only agreed, but invited the graduate students of architecture at Princeton to construct a model from his plans.
Now the big moment was at hand. Mr. O'Malley had driven down from Brooklyn in his big black Buick and was getting his first look at the handiwork of the students and Mr. Fuller. As Mr. Fuller watched anxiously, Mr. O'Malley peered through the open spaces of the model where dome and grandstand meet. He looked down on the playing field painted within the model (see page 30). Finally, Mr. O'Malley turned and pointed to the snow outside. "Could we have a better day to prove the point?" he asked. Then he looked at Mr. Fuller. "Bucky," he said, "this is just great. I'm just thrilled with it. I'm absolutely delighted. Let's slip off our coats."
Everybody took off his coat and Mr. O'Malley walked to a table and sat down. The others followed: Mr. Fuller; Arthur (Red) Patterson, Mr. O'Malley's public relations man; Robert W. McLaughlin, director of the School of Architecture; Professor Jean Labatut and Billy Kleinsasser, one of the graduate students.
Mr. O'Malley put a fresh cigar in a fresh paper holder and began to speak: