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PEOPLE
December 09, 1963
Maine's Senator Edmund S. Muskie is a fine hand at plucking a trout from a stream or dropping a black duck from the sky, but how, the Senator asked himself, do you get 24 live caribou weighing 400 pounds apiece from a corral at the foot of Mt. Katahdin pasture 4,000 feet high? The answer: Navy helicopters—which, thanks to the Senator's pleading, this week served as wings for what were probably the first flying caribou in history. The first real herd to roam the Maine woods since the turn of the century, the caribou had come from Newfoundland by motor van.
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December 09, 1963

People

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Maine's Senator Edmund S. Muskie is a fine hand at plucking a trout from a stream or dropping a black duck from the sky, but how, the Senator asked himself, do you get 24 live caribou weighing 400 pounds apiece from a corral at the foot of Mt. Katahdin pasture 4,000 feet high? The answer: Navy helicopters—which, thanks to the Senator's pleading, this week served as wings for what were probably the first flying caribou in history. The first real herd to roam the Maine woods since the turn of the century, the caribou had come from Newfoundland by motor van.

To keep himself fit for the brisk liturgical arguments at Rome's Ecumenical Council, Bishop Fulton J. Sheen (below) was enjoying daily workouts on the tennis courts of Rome's Circolo delle Muse. "He is very sportivo" says the pro who plays daily with Delegate Sheen. "He has a fast service and he never swears after a bad shot."

More Hollywood than the movies, Los Angeles Angel Robert (Bo) Belinsky, who pitches frequent woo and an occasional no-hitter, became a limelight letterman at last. He got a C for celebrity in the new edition of Cleveland Amory's Register and launched a nightclub act of his own in Las Vegas. Characteristically, Bo sent himself a telegram: "Congratulations on your opening. I know you'll help us win the pennant. Signed, Yogi Berra."

Television's surly Dr. Ben Casey never studied medicine in real life, but as Vince Edwards, high school swimming captain and onetime New York state champion, he learned a few facts about physical fitness. They paid off when a disgruntled fan assaulted the 6-foot-2, 185-pound TV star in a San Francisco nightclub. He was anesthetized by off-duty Casey with a single right to the mouth.

Another championship of sorts was awarded to Mexico's Rafael Osuna, who has already proved himself the best tennis player in the U.S. Discussing the problem of tender tennis hands, Dr. Daniel Manfredi, who has long served as unofficial court physician to the royalty at Forest Hills, declared that the young Mexican "has the largest callus I've ever seen on a hand. It's almost the size of a half dollar and it's a quarter of an inch thick."

Stage fright can be just as paralyzing on the football field as it is behind the footlights, muses the man everyone knows as Mister Abbott (Actor-Director-Producer-Author George, that is) in an autobiography of the same name. But, adds the showman who was once (1911) a galloping halfback at the University of Rochester, "Both in football and on the stage it is the first plunge that petrifies. After the first moment a calm yet intoxicating excitement takes over."

With the same foolhardy courage he displayed in stepping into the ring with Sonny Liston, Floyd Patterson put on skis for the first time and took a tight-lipped, clear-eyed run at a Swedish slope. He went down for the count 12 times in a row. Dusting the snow off his ski pants, the former heavyweight title holder (now training for a fight in Sweden) thereupon renounced winter sport for the comparative safety of the prize ring.

Tickled by Winner Carry On's sporting refusal to take the open ditch at Leicester's Quorn Steeplechase until the other horses had had a chance to catch up (after which he leaped ahead to finish first), England's second most prominent turf fan, Queen Mother Elizabeth, chatted merrily about the race with Jockey Fred Winter. "It sounded most amusing," laughed the ex-Queen as she dubbed the still distraught rider a Commander of the British Empire. "It was, ma'am," agreed Jockey Winter. "Afterward."

Recruited as a promising flanker by a group of Texas sports who meet every Tuesday night to play touch football, Kansas City Chiefs Owner Lamar Hunt proved a disappointment. After dropping his first few passes, rookie Hunt was demoted to blocking back. "Bad hands," he explained.

Refreshing reassurance that Stengelese is not a dead language at the New York Yankee clubhouse came from new Yankee Manager Lawrence E. Berra who discussed his reading habits for the press. "I still read an occasional war comic," said Yogi, "but I don't have time for all those new things they're coming out with—you know, those scary things. Them creatures, and all." And Yogi, when asked if Yoo-Hoo, the soft drink he is associated with, is hyphenated, replied (inaccurately) "No. Carbonated."

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