Evening star., 1946-08-26

to dry and "She's the cats paja-
mas" know too well the agony OF
eight or nine days at sea with a
boatload of superhealthy youngsters.
Not that the athletes don't be-
have, because they do. OF course,
1t must be admitted that several
members of the 1896 team cut few
didoes, especially the then Mrs. Art
Jarrett. The beauteous Mrs. Jarrett
formerly Miss Eleanor Holm, and
now Mrs. Billy Rose was an athletic
freak in that all she needed In the
way of training to break world
record was a hairdo and a manicure.
Feels the Years.
When mans temples are flecked
with silver, and, the fingers with
which he taps a typewriter begin
to creak with advancing years, the
presence of hundreds of streamlined
athletes, loaded from head to foot
with lean, 1.-the muscles, and pos
sessed of more energy than kitten
IN a yarn factory, does not make for
comfort.
1t makes him wonder, when he
gazes at his window which is bay,
why he didn't give up potatoes and
butter the same time he gave up
roller skates. He strokes his double
chin and regrets his failure to do
the thirty minutes of setting-u
exercises that were recommended
eight or ten years before.
This melancholy is even deeper
for the man who is accompanied by
his wife. 1t is impossible to describe
the look that wife gives her hus-
band when, worn out from a half
turn around the deck, he collapses
in deck chair just as a six-foot-
three, 200-pound shotputter comes
prancing by juggling a couple of
16-pound shots for exercise. 1t is q
look that while it combines love and
affection, is also shot through with
despair, hope, envy, longing and
bewilderment
Bad for Health.
Not only Is the presence of ath-
letes bad for an oldster's morale
1t is bad for what little health he
has left. There is enough pride in
any man, especially in a husband,
to cause him to try to look as much
like an athlete as possible.
In 1896, while I was ten years
younger than I am today (gee what
a mathematician the man Isl, I
weighed considerably more and so
closely resembled a walrus that the
dining room steward on the Manhat-
tan never did know whether to
throw me my fish or serve it to me
on plate.
1t took the Manhattan eight days
to get to Hamburg, as I recall, and
for eight days except when I was
locked in the privacy of my cabin.
I held my breath in order to hold in
my stomach and look slightly svelte.
All for Nothing.
I'm telling you, by the time we
docked in Hamburg, I was a hos.
pital case. I had almost forgotten
how to breathe. My lungs COM
planned of this treatment at the
top Of their lungs, and my face had
become set in panied expression
which lasts until this day.
And it was all for nothing. Not
single passenger ever mistook me
for diver or dash man and asked
for my autograph. As matter OF
fact, I heard several Of them in
quiring as to the name Of the
waddly fellow who went around
looking as If he might explode at
any moment. They didn't feel too
safe with me aboard.
OF all the athletes who made me
feel miserable by their presence,
the weight lifters took top honors.
will never forget the morning
when feeling like a blood brother to
chunk Of fiotsam, I made it to
the deck hoping that q wave would
wash me away and end my misery,
only to be greeted by a throng of
merry weight lifters, smelling of
liniment and swinging parts Of loco
motives in their hands.
For half an hour they practiced
their tribal rites before my feeble
gaze. To this day, the sight Of a
bar bell makes my head reel and
sends me into a fit of impenetrable
gloom.
The team must fly to London-by
rocket ship if possible. Else, let
them travel without us ancient re-
porters and send back word of the
games by corked bottle or grapevine.
distributed by McNaught Syndicate, Inc