Turns out the PGA made a little mistake. Al Lew shot a hole in one, all right, but it was on the 16th hole, which is only 157 yards long. That means Mr. Lew is not the winner, since many holes in one longer than that have been registered with the awards committee. Unfortunately, the trophy has already been shipped to Mr. Lew, and now he will have to return it. The PGA will announce the true winner shortly, just as soon as it wipes the egg off its face.
Well, we've got another campaign by a group of businessmen who think it would be nice if a rival were forced to give his product away free. This one comes from California, where Walter O'Malley, shrewd owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers, is wiring up some 20,000 California homes to receive pay TV on Dodger games next summer. Comes a group called the California Crusade for Free Television, backed by $500,000 in pledges from the owners of 800 California movie theaters, to launch what it calls "an all-out crusade to place the issue of preserving free home TV to a vote of the people." The reason the Crusaders are crusading, they say, is because pay TV constitutes "an imposition upon the public to force them to pay for TV programs which they now receive free."
Let's ignore the fact that none of these 800 theater owners thinks his own movies ought to be piped free into people's houses. Let's just remember, this time and always, that professional sports are a product, produced at considerable investment risk by private businessmen. The teams and their exhibitions are owned by these private businessmen. What the Constitution says about private property is that a man can do with it as he pleases. It pleases Mr. O'Malley to send his product into 20,000 homes, at a price. And we suspect it would please the 800 theater owners, too, if they could just get a piece of the action.
Consider Maximillian Cat. Ancestry? Pure alley. Enthusiasm for the opposite sex, neuter. Orange with white-tipped paws, Max lives in Victoria, B.C. with Derek Rhind, a photographer, and his wife, Barbara, a medical illustrator.
Two years ago, for laughs, the Rhinds entered Max in a fancy cat show in Edmonton, Alta. His redemption price, sort of like a claimer in horse racing, was $1. In the course of the show, Max sipped water from the judges' water glasses and put his paw around their necks with feline affection. To the amazement of all, including his fancy competitors, he was named best in his class.
The Rhinds figured they had something, and they entered Max in shows in Vancouver, Calgary and Edmonton again. He won 64 ribbons and four best-neuter-cat-in-show awards. In competition with purebred Siamese and Burmese cats, Max has never taken less than 94 out of 100 points. The American Cat Fanciers Association of Austin, Texas designated him regional neuter champion of North America.
Now the Rhinds have retired Max. "There's nothing left for him to win," says Derek. "Let him do what he wants. Besides, we missed him when he was away at those shows." Max cannot retire to stud, but he can pass many a long winter night purring about his achievements over the better-born.
HOW MANY CHAPTERS?