I also vehemently object to Clark's opinion that sportsmen ought to be licensed to sell stripers under a management program. Anglers who sell their catch are nothing more than hook-and-line commercial fishermen and should not be identified with the sport.
Massapequa Park, N.Y.
In reference to Robert H. Boyle's article, since when do commercial fishermen have the right to take over the public beaches, forcing "pinhookers" to go elsewhere? The fact that the striped bass is the glamour game fish of the Atlantic Coast should be enough to warrant some protection from the seiners of Long Island and North Carolina. As an avid striper fisherman, I have noticed the decline in action over the past few years. The bass population is dropping steadily. Leave the stripers alone!
R. J. BARTLETT
HUSBANDS, WIVES AND THE GAME
Frank Deford's story Keys to the Kingdom (Oct. 30) is one of the most amusing and interesting football satires I have ever read, and I commend him on this imaginative work.
Many women of America feel resentment as their husbands become glued to the TV sets. I find I am not in this position because I share my husband's interest in football. How many women have ever tried to learn what a screen pass or a blitz is? Maybe if some wives took time to learn about football, Saturdays, Sundays and Monday nights might not be so lonely. Many a man would appreciate a wife who could share in the excitement of a football game.
MRS. JOHN HOWARD
Prairie du Chien, Wis.
Frank Deford has captured Baltimore's love of the Colts in the late '50s and early to mid '60s. But I think a restudy of the feeling of the Colt fans and general Baltimore citizens of the '70s would indicate a considerable change in attitude not only toward owning season tickets but, more importantly, toward attending Colt games on Sundays and devoting the whole day to social activities surrounding the game.
In any event, it was another excellent article by Mr. Deford.
JAMES J. LACY
As a longtime, satisfied subscriber, I feel it is only fair to tell you that Frank Deford's story was a work of art. Funny, but oh, so true!
F. A. NIX
Daytona Beach, Fla.
My husband should be voted Sportsman of the Year. Each year he attends: 39 Flyer games, nine Eagle games (including preseason games), 30 Phillie games and 20 76er games. Anyone who would travel 150 miles round trip to see a bunch of losers has to be one heck of a sportsman.
Timothy Sullivan and John Kobler deserve a round of applause for Caddying for a Man Who Never Shot Par (Nov. 6). Sure, we all know of AI Capone the crook, mastermind murderer of the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, etc., but we never hear of the Capone who liked kids and helped out during the Depression. He was no angel, but maybe he was a nice devil.
Timothy Sullivan's yarn about caddying for Al Capone brought back memories of the time I caddied for Machine Gun Jack McGurn for four days while he was a guest of a member of a suburban country club where I caddied for 10 years. Unaware of his true identity at first (he used his real, Italian name), I was quickly informed by the older boys and basked in his notoriety for the next few days. McGurn at that time was a mid-80s golfer and seemed rather soft-spoken.