?Avelino Gomez, the 33-year-old jockey who recently moved his tack from Canada to Florida, will shortly be riding even more winners than he has in his first three weeks in this country (15 winners in 80 mounts). Gomez recently has obtained the services of Agent Goldie Mitchell, who was responsible to a large degree for the successes of Ted Atkinson and John Ruane.
MEN OF TREES
As small boys of all ages know, there is a tiny corner of England called Sherwood Forest. Here, for centuries, a fine stand of English oak concealed fine English stags who were pursued at one time by a band of fine English brigands led by Robin Hood. Now, hark you, some knave has said that the English oak is too weak and puny, and that the Queen's foresters should march into Sherwood Forest and plant American oaks instead.
But England has a worthy champion in Sir Shane Leslie, a verray parfit knight who leads a battle group called The Men of Trees. Sir Shane is something of a tradition himself, having been around for some 76 summers; but apparently he feels his work has just begun.
"Let us plant an English oak and an American one side by side," he thundered last week, "and in 500 years we will know which is the better." Someone suggested that the enemy might not be willing to wait that long. "Precisely," countered Sir Shane, "they know only too well that time is on my side."
THE TEMPLE REOPENS
After 910 days without those real, vital and elusive qualities that make up pal-ship, New York's sporting and theatrical crowds moved "back" last week to the new $3.5-million Toots Shor restaurant on 52nd Street between Sixth and Fifth avenues within—as somebody said—"spitting distance of '21'."
The opening-day crowd was virtually the same as the closing-day crowd that said goodby to "the old joint" in June of 1959. Jackie Gleason, with a red boutonniere, was there; Whitey Ford, "a 25-game crum-bum," was there; Yogi Berra was there; Allie Sherman and his football Giants were there. There were minks and finks, flacks and hacks and off-Broadway actresses who will never get off off-Broadway. Everyone, it seems, was there, lured to the new temple by the exotic incense of the Shor personality.
Artistically, the new Shor's is exactly like the old Shor's. The main bar is "the meeting place" and, like the proprietor, it is round, loud and right in the middle of everything. The old gang was happy to be jostled, insulted and slapped by Shor, to be overlooked by the head-waiter and served by the revered bartenders—Eddie, Frank, Bob and Ziggy. No one really knows where Eddie and Frank and Bob and Ziggy have been for the last two years, but it was suggested that Shor farmed them out and had them on 24-hour recall all the time.
Everything was the same, even Shor, who at one point walked to the bar, beat his fist on it four times for quiet and shouted, "How lucky can you be, to be in here with me, you lucky, creepy bums."