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November 25, 1963
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November 25, 1963


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That embarrassment in the name of sport now going forward at Jakarta—the Games of the New Emerging Forces—was conceived in politics and has thereby given birth to travesty. It has also confirmed the wisdom of the Olympic fathers in divorcing, so far as it is possible, international politics from international sport. The games are even politically absurd. Some of the participants can scarcely be regarded as among the "new emerging forces" in the world. The Netherlands, for instance.

The Japanese, as hosts to the 1964 Olympics and the first Asian nation ever awarded the Olympic Games, were confronted with an invitation they did not want. With fine impartiality, the Indonesians put pressure on Japanese Communists and businessmen alike. They petitioned for aid from such Japanese friends as Tatsukuni Toyama, grandson of Mitsuru Toyama, the Black Dragon leader of prewar Japan's super-nationalists. Toyama and chums rounded up 73 athletes—all of them, except for a couple of table tennis players, third rate.

This unofficial representation gave the Japanese a nice out, but the Soviet Union had a somewhat different problem. Sending inferior, non-Olympic athletes was all very well for the Japanese, who could not care less about the outcome of the Jakarta games. But the Russians would be up against those miserable Chinese Communists, who withdrew from the Olympics and have since been snubbed by most international sports federations. Could the Russians, who had spent $12.5 million on the Jakarta stadium, afford to accept a beating from the Chinese, who would make propaganda capital of it? Well, the Soviets apparently decided to take their lumps. They sent some nondescript performers and are laying back, waiting to recoup at Tokyo.


A few months ago Joe DiMaggio bought a 45-foot sport fishing boat. The idea was that he would spend his leisure hours pursuing big gamefish. He has not. Since buying the boat Joe has discovered golf. Now he is appearing in amateur tournaments all over California and Nevada, conquering the shyness that hitherto has kept him often teeing off at 6 a.m., when none but sleepy birds are about.

His score, like President Eisenhower's used to be, is a secret. But you might guess at it from this ecstatic declaration after one round at San Francisco's tough Presidio course. "Best round of my life. Could have been an 85 if I hadn't missed those.... "


The bane of bartenders is the serious Martini drinker, with all his talk of "extra, extra dry and I mean really dry, fella." He was like that even before Prohibition, but in reverse. In those days vermouth seemed an exotic beverage and was more expensive than gin. So, naturally, the Martini man would demand plenty of vermouth in his cocktail.

Now the dryster has been supplied with a truly alarming weapon. It is called a Gourmet Martini Tester. With it, according to the Thexton Manufacturing Company of Minneapolis, one may easily determine the quality, or at least the dryness, of a Martini. The Tester is an eyedropper with three balls the size of a BB shot in it. Dip the dropper into your Martini and fill it. If two of the balls float, but one sinks, it is a regular Martini. If one floats and two sink, it is a dry Martini. If all three sink it is extra dry.

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