Not only are muscular girls discriminated against, so are brainy ones. But, hah, they strike back. Susan Solomon, 15-year-old student at Von Steuben High in Chicago, was No. 4 player on the school's chess team last spring when somebody blew the whistle on her by pointing out that state law prohibited coeducational competition in interscholastic sport. Skipping arguments that chess is a game rather than a sport, Susan went right to the top, with the result (checkmate!) that the Illinois House of Representatives has now voted 122 to 11 for a bill that, among other things, tells schools not to bar girls from playing games, or sports, with boys. Things like football are excluded, at least for the time being.
Way to go, Susan, and watch your pawns, Bobby Fischer.
One of the things a good golfer tries to do as he advances into his autumn years is shoot his age—like a par 72 at age 72, for ideal instance. The ultimate along this line may well have occurred in San Antonio recently when, in one foursome, three men achieved this rarity. Dr. C. B. Walters, a 79-year-old retired dentist, shot 39-40—79; Frank Connolly, 76, turned in 36-40—76; and Newton A. Brown, 75, had 37-38—75. The three-way phenomenon did not come easily. Connolly parred the last hole, but Brown had to roll in a birdie putt for his score, and Dr. Walters, trying for a better-than-his-age round, blew a shot on the 18th and got a bogey.
The fourth man in the group, Guy Wilson, didn't have a prayer to make it four for four. A mere tad of 62, he shot an 87.
OVER THE WALL
The most bizarre sponsor of a car and driver in auto racing is a club called the High Wallers, a group of inmates at the Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem. The High Wallers constructed their car—a 1967 Chevelle for supermodified stock-car competition—themselves and maintain it without using state funds. A professional driver named Art Roth of Portland raced it 22 times this past summer on tracks around the Northwest. "We run on the half-and quarter-mile tracks and on some of the short dirt tracks," Roth said. "We did O.K. We had four seconds, four fourths, a "seventh, an eighth, a 12th and a 13th. The rest of the time we broke down."
When Roth takes the car to a track, five High Wallers go along—the chief mechanic, who makes all the races, and four other inmates on a rotating system. Prison guards, who donate their time, go along, too. Guards also donate their time to supervise the club members when they are at the garage working on the car.
One of the High Wallers said, "The guards here have donated probably 3,000 hours of their own time. We've received about $10,000 to $12,000 for the car from private citizens, firms, manufacturers. We give Art Roth 50% of the purses he wins, but so far he has always given it back, along with some of his own money, for us to put it back in the car." Prison officials will not reveal the records of the High Wallers, whose membership is limited to 30. "They are chosen on merit and their actions while they are in prison," said an official. "We won't talk about why they are here."