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PEOPLE
May 27, 1968
Looking rather like an elderly Tiny Tim, Conductor Leopold Stokowski, 86, threw out the first ball to begin a softball game between his American Symphony Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic, after which he retired behind the backstop in New York's Central Park. The maestro usually shows up for soft-ball in the spring: next year somebody has got to tell him not to stick his fingers through the netting.
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May 27, 1968

People

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Looking rather like an elderly Tiny Tim, Conductor Leopold Stokowski, 86, threw out the first ball to begin a softball game between his American Symphony Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic, after which he retired behind the backstop in New York's Central Park. The maestro usually shows up for soft-ball in the spring: next year somebody has got to tell him not to stick his fingers through the netting.

On location in Eckley, Pa. for the filming of The Molly Maguires. Actor Richard Harris was practicing for the picture's Gaelic football game when his nose was broken—for the eighth time. A breakdown of the breaks works out to four "punch-ups," or brawls, two automobile accidents and one doctor's rebreak, an attempt to straighten the thing out. Harris was observed at work the next day, with Samantha Eggar and Sean Connery, and, unaccountably, Harris was the man who was smiling.

Philadelphia Sportswriter George Kiseda is in the habit of going to Franklin Field for leisurely solitary jogs, perhaps because 60,546 empty seats give a man a sense of the glory that might have been. But the other day when Kiseda arrived for his workout he found he had company. Baltimore Colt Halfback Timmy Brown and Diana Ross of the Supremes were jogging on the track and then varying their exercise by running up the stadium steps and doing head-stands and calisthenics. Kiseda suggested that Miss Ross might do wonders for women's track if, for instance, she trained for the Olympics. "I used to run in high school," she said. "I won every race I ever ran," whereupon Kiseda suggested a friendly little race. There followed an all-out 50-yard dash in which Miss Ross performed supremely, beating Kiseda by a comfortable margin. Miss Ross already has more than one gold record. Perhaps she should think about a gold medal.

Paul W. Eggers of Wichita Falls, Texas was a member of SPORTS ILLUSTRATED'S 1966 Silver Anniversary All-America team, and apparently he is in as good shape now as he was when he won his letter in 1941. Eggers recently trounced his two opponents in the Texas Republican Governor's primary, and a few days later, still flushed with victory, he issued an open challenge to a handball match at a Junior Chamber of Commerce luncheon in Amarillo. One Wes Simpson, 32 to Eggers' 49, took him up on it and was beaten 21-2, 21-1. Eggers carries his handball equipment with him wherever he goes during a campaign and plays at least once or twice a week. "I plan to keep in shape until the day I die," he says firmly, and obviously he does not mean that to be any time soon.

"Who taught him to walk?" asked one of Playboy's editors suspiciously upon learning that his boss, Hugh Hefner, 42, has taken to getting out of bed. For years Hefner has edited his magazine and directed his business enterprises from the great, revolving circular bed in his Chicago mansion. Recently, however, he rose to examine what he has wrought. What he has wrought is a multimillion-dollar bunny hutch and sports resort covering 960 acres in Lake Geneva, Wis. and comprising a 300-room Playboy Club hotel, a golf course, a boating lake, a hill for skiing and, uh, bridle paths—for horseback riding. Carried away by the splendors of this creation and perhaps concerned that he had not been living up to his own image, he promptly went to work on a new Hefner to go with Playboy's playground. He ordered $10,000 worth of clothes to augment his pajamas. He took up Ping-Pong, billiards and horseback riding. He tried sit-ups and push-ups. He also began to eat regularly and gained 40 pounds. Before he ordered his new clothes, one hopes.

Some years ago New York Giants Guard Pete Case took the Red Cross lifesaving courses, a circumstance for which a fellow named Ray Lowry feels considerable gratitude. Lowry was fishing with his family on Lake Lanier, north of Atlanta, when his 5-year-old son tumbled overboard. Lowry went over after him and, though he is a strong swimmer, waves and wind swept the boat away. Case, fishing nearby, heard Mrs. Lowry's screams and moved in and overboard. He reached the boy first and then got to Lowry, who "...was blue. His eyes were rolled back, and I thought it might be too late," Case said later. Lowry agreed that it very nearly had been too late. "If Pete had not been there," he said, "there is no question in my mind we would have drowned."

Among those whom Jim Ryun has consistently outrun have been a great many young ladies. For four years now they have pursued him in person, by telephone and by mail. Hopeful girls he has never met have made long-distance calls asking for dates, and last summer a determined young woman invaded his apartment. Clearly, what Ryun needs for protection is a wife, and last week it was announced that he has found one. He plans to be married in January to Miss Anne Carol Snider, who is, of all things, a Kansas State cheerleader.

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