Baltimore Mayor Theodore McKeldin, looking for some way to show the city's appreciation of Oriole Star Frank Robinson, suggested to the Baltimore Park Board that it name a park for the ballplayer. The board found it had no law against naming a city facility for a living person and immediately—and tactfully—passed one forbidding such an action. "This is no reflection on Robinson," a Park Board official said. "We are just against naming anything for anybody before they are dead."
Wearing a rented top hat and tails, Jack Brabham showed up at Buckingham Palace last week to collect his Order of the British Empire from Queen Elizabeth. After the ceremony the world champion racing driver climbed into his Vauxhall, which was parked in the palace forecourt, and prepared to speed away. He couldn't start the car.
On the inside cover of his ninth-grade text, Elements of Physical Geography, 14-year-old Wood-row Wilson drew balloons and listed the starting lineup of the Light Foot Base Ball Club (below). His sports-inspired doodles, which date back to 1870 and are considered to be the earliest-known Wilson documents, have been published in a new book. The Papers of Woodrow Wilson, Vol. 1, 1856-1880. The Light Foot club was organized by Wilson for "various secret, mysterious and adventurous purposes," including baseball. Also found in Wilson's school books was a list of racehorses "arranged by age and speed."
The Monkees, that quartet that successfully apes the Beatles on NBC-TV, s led by Britain's Davy Jones, who used to be an exercise boy at Newmarket, England. As the group's popularity has grown, so have the tales of Davy's exploits on horseback. His press agent told one reporter recently that "Davy rode 26 winners last winter when he was back in England for Christmas." Says Davy, "I had to choose between riding and show business. I chose show business. I once earned $10,000 as a jockey, and lost $9,000 of it betting on the horses." However, the British Jockey Club, which licenses jockeys, has no record of a rider named Davy Jones. Now who is making a monkey of whom?
The question that Stan Musial, Joe Torre, Henry Aaron, Harmon Killebrew and Brooks Robinson kept being asked during their two-week tour of the Vietnam battle zone was the same one being heard back home. How did the Dodgers blow it in four straight? The Orioles' Robinson was always pleased to answer, "They underestimated us, and we outplayed them." The trip, which took the ballplayers to frontline outposts, airfields and hospitals, was initiated at the All-Star Game last July by General William Eckert (ret.), the commissioner of baseball. Of all the players, Musial attracted the most attention from the troops. One wounded GI told him, "You're the greatest." "No," said Stan. "You are."
Men's World Figure Skating Champion Emmerich Danzer was not concerned about treading the thin ice of diplomatic protocol. He simply saw a pretty girl and he kissed her. The object of Danzer's instant affection turned out to be 21-year-old Natalya Podgorny. the daughter of Soviet President Nikolai Podgorny. The president and his daughter were taking a quick tour about Vienna when they decided to visit the Stadthalle, where Danzer was working out before 2,000 children. When he spotted the distinguished visitors Danzer did a few breathtaking spins, pirouetted up to Natalya and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and Papa laughed. Why did Danzer do it? "Why not," said one sports editor. "She's very pretty. I don't think he would have done it to Mrs. Khrushchev."
An election shirt tale: Pennsylvania's new governor, Raymond P. Shafer, won his election but lost his shirt in the process. An 11-letter man at Allegheny College in the 1930s, Shafer's blue-and-gold basketball jersey was auctioned off to help meet campaign expenses. It brought $40.
It was the largest royal hunt in 60 years, and probably the largest royal get-together in decades, outside of an occasional marriage or funeral. Included in the party that spent the weekend shooting in the Ardennes in Belgium and on Luxembourg's royal preserve were King Baudouin of Belgium, King Constantine of Greece, Princess Beatrix of The Netherlands and Crown Prince Harald of Norway. The hunt was conducted in the strictest of secrecy (120 policemen provided cover for their majesties). Only one statistic has come out: 42 boars were shot.
Paced by 800-meter Olympic winner Ann Packer (below) and a gander named Alexander the Great, two gaggles of geese waddled at top speed down an ancient Roman way in Berkshire, England, covering four miles in a little less than four hours. The goose march was organized to test a theory of a Cambridge University archaeologist, Dr. Glyn Daniels. For some time the professor has been trying to find out how the Romans, who enjoyed eating a particular kind of goose found only in the north of France, got these rare birds to Rome, it being a belief of the time that if geese were cooped up for long periods in oxcarts their flesh would taste foul. Daniels thinks the birds were walked the thousand miles from Calais and wondered how long this would have taken. Based on the performance of Miss Packer and her gaggles, the answer is six months. Hardly an Olympic time, but certainly an Olympic effort.