Word: bowlers
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...Chancellor of the Exchequer and Inner Cabinet confidant, Sir John Simon, is cold and devious, a lawyer whose poker face and ambiguous, clausy rhetoric are well adapted to muddling through. Devious and poker-faced as ever last week, Sir John took steps definite enough to jolt the bowler-hatted businessmen of London's "City." He mobilized the Bank of England and the London Stock Exchange to impose "Simon's unofficial ban" on British buying of U. S. securities...
...general purposes, Mr. William McGeorge of Kent, Ohio would serve as Mr. Average U. S. Bowler. He is 53, looks 40; has a Celtic thrust to his under jaw; is lean, lanky, straight; believes bowling is the best possible exercise. A white-collar man with an electrical firm, he has a wife and three big sons, lives in a simple house on College Street. He bowls Wednesday and Friday nights with the Portage County All Stars and in the Kent-Ravenna City League. When he bowls in important competition he wears a shiny satin bowling shirt with a regimental-striped...
Last week Bowler McGeorge and some of the boys decided to have a try at the slick alleys and new wood at the American Bowling Congress up in Cleveland. It was Bowler McGeorge's first A.B.C. appearance. When the crowd from Kent arrived, the A.B.C. was rumbling through its third week, and up to then nothing spectacular had happened. Nothing McGeorge and the Kent men did in the five-man play served to jog the tourney out of its doldrums. Mac, for example, rolled 175-153-214 for a 542 total. Next day in the doubles, with a fellow...
Before he started rolling for his singles score one of the fellows gave him a rabbit's foot. He hung it fob-like from his watch pocket, remarking: "I'll need two of these." One was enough. In the first frame Bowler McGeorge found the groove with a wide Dutch hook, curving into the 1-3 pocket from the extreme right side of the alley. The pins scattered like cats off an alley fence. Then, ten more times without a miss, Bowler McGeorge's pet two-finger ball socked sweetly into the 1-3. Intent on remembering...
Down the alley now the pins looked hazy. Bowler McGeorge felt a little sick at his stomach. His palms sweated so that he had to dry them. He dabbed his fingers with chalk, got a grip of sorts on himself, picked up the ball, sighted down the maple strip, and let fly. It was his only erratic shot. There was a gasp as it crossed over, broke toward the Brooklyn (left) side. But on the left side is the 1-2 pocket, which bowlers sometimes call Last Chance Gulch, and right in there Bowler McGeorge's last straying hook...