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Events and Discoveries of the Week
May 30, 1960
BELOW THE SUMMITDespite last week's explosion at the summit, athletic exchanges between the U.S. and Soviet Russia will not be affected unless diplomatic relations deteriorate further. That, at least, is the view of the AAU's Dan Ferris. Ferris does expect, however, that criticism, and plenty of it, will accompany the scheduled exchanges (Russian gymnasts to the U.S., an AAU basketball team to Russia). "There are always a lot of people," Ferris says, "who want us to steer clear of the Russians under any circumstances."
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May 30, 1960

Events And Discoveries Of The Week

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BELOW THE SUMMIT
Despite last week's explosion at the summit, athletic exchanges between the U.S. and Soviet Russia will not be affected unless diplomatic relations deteriorate further. That, at least, is the view of the AAU's Dan Ferris. Ferris does expect, however, that criticism, and plenty of it, will accompany the scheduled exchanges (Russian gymnasts to the U.S., an AAU basketball team to Russia). "There are always a lot of people," Ferris says, "who want us to steer clear of the Russians under any circumstances."

LUNCHING AT THE ASTOR

Two foreign horses were entertained at lunch at Manhattan's Astor Hotel last week. The lunch was a ballyhoo of a New York harness race track, and the honored guests were Caduceus (often called the New Zealand Wonder Horse, said the hosts) and Australia's Fettle (often called the Equine King of New South Wales, said the hosts). Lunch in the grand ballroom consisted mainly of roast beef for the people, and apples and carrots, served in a silver punch bowl, for the horses. When the horses were led in from a serving pantry, they were plainly frightened but maintained their composure, God bless their British upbringing.

Some people made speeches. One speaker said jovially that the owners of the New York track had discovered the down under horses in a manner comparable "to sending that V-2 [sic] over Russia." Some people left early. The horses, they had to stay to the end.

POISON IVY

The Boston ivy ("tolerates trying conditions," said a horticultural sign on the lawn) was lush, green and growing fast on the walls of Kellogg Center at Michigan State University last week. But inside Kellogg conference rooms Big Ten coaches, athletic directors and faculty representatives were deciding they'd had enough ivy to last a lifetime.

It had been just four years since the same groups, pressed by faculty unrest about football overemphasis, had approved programs designed quietly but inevitably to reduce the stature of Big Ten football.

Most notable changes: adoption of a plan for a round-robin schedule which by the late '60s would have each Big Ten team playing its nine fellow conference members every year; adoption of a scholarship program which restricted athletic aid to a "need" basis (i.e. to students who couldn't otherwise afford college).

Last week the Big Ten seemed to feel deemphasis had all been a horrible mistake. In two years the Big Ten lost more than 100 top football prospects to conferences which recruited under the more lenient NCAA scholarship regulations (even the Ivies could outbid the Big Ten), and it lost football games as well.

Urged on by coaches and athletic directors, the faculty representatives—who alone hold policy-making power—voted to:

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