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So what about people who had thrown away win tickets on Teacher, which were now worth $5.30 for $2? The track announced that it would entertain claims.
Such innocence! Claims from Teacher backers flooded in by person, post and phone. Within a week dismayed Tropical Park officials toted up claims for $70,000 worth of mutuel purchases, though all but $5,747 worth had been cashed the day of the race. Item that made Tropical officials shake their heads most sadly: a claim for seven $20 tickets. Race tracks don't sell $20 tickets.
By week's end Tropical President Saul Silberman was pointing out that the law hadn't required the track to make its generous postrace offer, and he was wondering why he had ever done it.
"We'll consult with the Florida Racing Commission," he said. "Some of these people filing claims obviously have made a mistake."
Cross Words in Graustark
The two-man bobsled team from the tiny Alpine principality of Liechtenstein (pop. 14,000) was not an outstanding performer at the winter Olympics in Cortina four years ago, but the fact that it was able to perform at all was something of a triumph since neither man had even been on a sled before the trials began.
Back home in Liechtenstein credit for this moral victory was given freely to the man who had bullied the team onto their sled in the first place: Baron Eduard von Falz-Fein, himself a frustrated bobber forced to eschew the sport in deference to a squeamish wife.
Less than a week after Cortina, the baroness' squeamishness about bobs came to be shared by other matrons of Liechtenstein when one of the baron's protégés, by then an addict, lost his life sledding. The baron, determined to field some sort of winter sports team at Squaw Valley in 1960, set about training a squad of skiers.
It was a difficult job since little Liechtenstein, nestled between Switzerland and the Austrian Vorarlberg, has no ski lifts at all and only the poorest excuse for a slope. But by arranging for his tyros to travel over the borders on weekends, the baron in time managed to get a team together: two cousins named Kindle and another Kindle who is no kin. The whole enterprise would undoubtedly have proceeded smoothly if the baron, who runs three souvenir shops in the capital city of Vaduz, had only restricted his international activity to sport.
Instead, last year, the baron decided to compete in the Eisenhower-Khrushchev league. He organized what he called the Little Summit Conference on a hilltop in Liechtenstein. This was a well-publicized parley of representatives of four sovereign European nations—Liechtenstein, Andorra, San Marino and Monaco—whose combined population is roughly equal to that of the town of East Chicago, Ind., and it succeeded in ironing out whatever differences lay between them in a single day's session. With tongue fairly firmly in cheek, the baron extolled the conference as a fine "example for the Big Four nations who spend all their time arguing," and the newspaper readers of the world laughed dutifully in response. But stern Herr Alexander Frick, who runs Liechtenstein as Chief of Government under the constitutional monarch Prince Franz Josef II, was not amused. As punishment he forbade Falz-Fein to take his Olympic team to the U.S.