The man chosen by Pete Rozelle, National Football League commissioner, to guard the league against recurrence of the recent betting scandals is considered by many law-enforcement officials to be the most informed cop on underworld operations in the nation. Captain Jim Hamilton of the Los Angeles Intelligence Division has won the commendations of the McClellan committee, the Kefauver committee, the U.S. Treasury Department, the U.S. Attorney General and scores of others. The Intelligence Division he created in Los Angeles became the model for similar units in police departments throughout the country, units that now cooperate with each other in the exchange of information about hoodlum activities.
In addition to his qualifications as a policeman, Hamilton has an avid interest in sport and a hatred for those who would corrupt it. He is, in fact, largely responsible for the federal convictions of Frankie Carbo and Blinky Palermo, mobsters who ruled boxing with impunity for more than a score of years. When Hamilton's men had gathered enough evidence on the pair they quietly turned it over to federal authorities.
Hamilton's mere presence in the league lineup is certain to give pause to fixers who might contemplate approaching football players. As Hamilton's boss, Police Chief William H. Parker, puts it, "If the NFL is interested in its public image, and I assume it is, how can you do any better?"
FROM THE HORSE'S MOUTH
A tall, bespectacled and gray-haired retired farmer is Norman Blake of Yarcombe, Devon, England, who carries cards that introduce him as an "equine educationist." He also, for a bit of fun, likes to refer to himself as a "horse psychiatrist." Blake treats about six chronic patients a year—restoring biters, kickers and throwers to gentle usefulness. One of his techniques, which never include the infliction of physical pain, is to embarrass a difficult horse by turning him loose with some children's ponies. The horse soon comes around.
In the course of a long intimacy with horses and some considerable observation of women, Blake has acquired firm hypotheses about both breeds. He is convinced, for instance, that horses, like women, "talk a lot among themselves." The horses also, he says, understand what humans say and that is one reason women trainers do so poorly.
"A woman always makes the mistake, when she has a troublesome horse," he explained recently, "of chatting about his bad habits in front of him. He knows what she's talking about and that she's afraid of him."
What do the horses say among themselves about Blake?
"They say, 'The old man is a bit tough, but he never hurts his horses,' " according to Blake, who seems to have been eavesdropping.