The plan, which has been agreed upon for five years, doubtless has some flaws, but it is more than a step in the right direction—it is a dozen steps. And as Fred Page put it, using an improbable metaphor, "the interest in amateur hockey is returning to the grass-roots level."
A letter to the Utah Fish and Game Commission began:
"We have just received your 1967 deer hunting proclamation and are very excited about it. We have hunted in nearly all of the western states and have been able to get trophies of most game—big game that is—in North America.
"Your deer hunting proclamation shows that you have divided the area into several hunting areas; most of them are apparently devoted to deer of either sex and some have buck-only divisions and some of your divisions are regular-license and antlerless-control permits. We notice, however, that you have opened sections 23C, 27C, 23D, 22A, 28C and 28D for Indian hunting. It does not say which sex. Neither does it advise us whether it's in control permits or general license permits.... P.S. Do you have any restrictions on the Indians hunting us? Please send us a copy of the hunting orders you sent them."
RAZING THE ROOF
The best ball game in Indianapolis these days is provided by Ed Zebrowski's demolition company. When he razes a building Zebrowski sets up bleachers on the sidewalk for wrecking fans, and supplies music. This week he will take down a three-story apartment house at the corner of North and Delaware streets in 24 hours. Mayor-elect Richard G. Lugar has been asked to throw out the first wrecking ball. Spectators will be given hard hats, and a Dixieland band in a 1921 Stutz fire truck will provide devastating music.
IN A STORM
The members of the Scenic Hudson Preservation Conference, an organization that is protesting the construction of a power plant in the Storm King river gorge, took a boat trip up the Hudson one recent Saturday to publicize their efforts. Con Edison, the company which wants to put up the complex, had sent along a note wishing them bad weather, and a cold raw drizzle did fall most of the time. However, 300-odd enthusiasts, most of them well-tanned, in elegantly unpretentious tweeds, were on board Miss Circle Line when she cast off from West 42nd Street.
Among them was Bobby Kennedy, who spent a lot of his time behind a planting of orange plastic daisies and who was introduced to the group as a "veteran canoeist on the turbulent Hudson waters." A Mr. George Lindsay was presented as "the birth-control man who has probably done more than any of us to preserve open spaces." There were numerous doctors, scientists and artists, as well as conservationists, and practically every one of them was a writer of one sort or another. They talked earnestly of conserving the river as a national treasure.
Kennedy disembarked at lunch when the boat was only halfway to Storm King, but everyone else crowded into a heated saloon where box lunches (including things like p�t� de foie gras) prepared by Manhattan's fashionable Brasserie restaurant were dispensed.