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July 13, 1970
"Swimming is my main exercise," said Doris Day recently. "I keep my pool at 94� the year round, and I swim four times a day, I really do. And at night—I skinny dip." For the benefit of fans inclined to fall down in a faint at this news, Doris said reassuringly, "My pool is very, very private. Nobody could possibly see. Though sometimes," she added, throwing her admirers back into a nervous fit, "I do get the most awful feeling that maybe a gardener might be peeking in through the hedge."
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July 13, 1970

People

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"Swimming is my main exercise," said Doris Day recently. "I keep my pool at 94� the year round, and I swim four times a day, I really do. And at night—I skinny dip." For the benefit of fans inclined to fall down in a faint at this news, Doris said reassuringly, "My pool is very, very private. Nobody could possibly see. Though sometimes," she added, throwing her admirers back into a nervous fit, "I do get the most awful feeling that maybe a gardener might be peeking in through the hedge."

Race drivers traditionally concentrate on race driving and seldom realize that other sports exist. An exception is Jackie Stewart, hunter, fisherman and—it now turns out—golf hustler, who is busily conning other racers into that game. During an interval in the current Formula I events in Europe, Stewart (left) and Jochen Rindt (right) took on Graham Hill, no golfer, who is still recuperating from last year's accident, and a golf writer who happened to be nearby. Stewart also persuaded them to give his partner Rindt two strokes a hole and, at the first tee, told Rindt to keep his head down. The result? "Jochen kept his head down long enough to run off a string of four successive net birdies," the golf writer reported, "and he clinched the match on the 8th hole when he exploded from a greenside bunker to 20 feet and two-putted for his fifth net birdie for the round." Now Stewart has invited Hill home for a short golfing holiday. "Bring friends," he said generously, "and plenty of pounds sterling."

During a stay at the Lake Rudolf Angling Club in Kenya, conductor Zubin Mehta, ignoring warnings about swimming, chose to bathe from a sandspit that for years has been home to a 12-foot crocodile renowned as a man-eater. The club manager took one look at Mehta, his wife and two children splashing about in the big crocodile's territory, and dispatched a messenger to order them out. The Mehtas emerged, sheepish but whole, and Mehta spent the remainder of his stay fishing for Nile perch and swimming in the club pool. He said it was the best vacation of his life, his life being something he was lucky to have come away with.

Ontario's Premier John Roberts cheerfully agreed to go up in a balloon to publicize the Canadian Open golf championship, held this year at the London (Ontario) Hunt and Country Club. The plan called for him to ascend from the club grounds and drift down at Stratford. The Hon. John Roberts clambered into the basket on schedule after saying, "Just great! I think it will be fun!" It wasn't, actually. The balloon went up, all right, but instead of moving north toward Stratford, was blown east into darkness and thundershowers, and the Premier, two hours later, had to be retrieved by police from a farmer's field in La Salette.

That "superb and cheerful runner," Christopher Chataway, has been appointed Britain's new Minister of Posts and Telecommunications. A former professional broadcaster, Conservative MP from Lewisham and, most recently, chairman of the Inner London Education Authority, Chataway is most affectionately recalled by American track fans as the cigarette-smoking, beer-drinking miler who paced Roger Bannister to the world's first, and John Landy to the world's second, sub-four-minute mile, eventually making it down to 3:59.8 himself. He still smokes, he still drinks beer and he still runs—"Most weekends, over the Sussex Downs, when I'm home. For about 10 years after I stopped competitive athletics I didn't do any exercise, no squash or anything like that. Then I was in Los Angeles in 1967 doing some writing, and I had to wait about to see [Governor] Reagan, so I went out jogging along the seashore. I suppose I keep it up now," muses the 39-year-old British Cabinet minister, "because I feel the advent of middle age."

In 1946 Moon Landrieu pitched for the team that won the American Legion Little World Series; last month, as mayor of New Orleans, he took the mound to pitch for a softball team made up of city officials against the City of New Orleans team of the commercial Athletic Association league. Mayor Landrieu was wiped out in three innings, having allowed 11 runs and 12 hits, and his team lost by a score of 19-0. Probably he ought to be sent down, but will the Little Leagues take a 39-year-old?

Nate Bowman, backup center for the world champion New York Knicks until he was traded to the Buffalo Braves, recently teamed up with Henri Phipps, a classmate from Nate's days at Wichita State, in a furniture design firm. The company, known as Wondum ("We got our name from the Nigerian dictionary," Phipps says. "It means extraordinary."), is backed by other black athletes such as Lee White, Israel Lang, Spencer Haywood and Warren Armstrong. Phipps is the designer, Bowman the vice-president of public relations. "Our furniture is designed for young people aged 19 to 25 who make from $7,000 to $10,000 a year and live in small quarters," says Phipps. Bowman—who at 6'10" sleeps in a seven-foot custom-made bed—is more concerned with his customers' dimensions. The Wondum line, Bowman explains, "is suitable for everyone—big men, little men and midgets."

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