Word: lariats
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Hope is the Will Rogers of the age, a kind of updated, urbanized farmer's almanac of political and social currents. Rogers was the sly rustic, a humorist with a lariat; Hope is the self-caricaturing sophisticated comic with a paradiddle patter. Rogers was show business, and so is Hope, and they share the same understanding of what is unique in American humor: a healthy irreverence for pomp and position. And they both succeeded by pitching their personalities across the footlights to touch their listeners with something close to folk wisdom. Some of Hope's lines even sound...
Ever since Will Rogers first ambled onstage with his lariat, comedians have played the hick-in-the-big-city for big laughs and good money. From Herb Shriner to George Gobel to Andy Griffith, dozens have twirled the same line - and still left enough rope for their lineal descendant, Dick Cavett. In a Greenwich Village nightclub last week, Cavett, 29, recited the doleful tale of his country boyhood in Nebraska. The story, as he tells it, is comical enough, and perhaps just true enough to serve as his public autobiography...
...quarterhorse, and most of them-like matadors-maintain practice rings of their own, where they train their mounts for months to anticipate each move of a zigzagging calf, to stop instantly ("sticking 'em into the ground," in rodeo talk) at the precise moment the lariat settles around the Brangus' neck...
...beast. Last week, at the National Finals Rodeo in Oklahoma City, Franklin gave a superb demonstration of his skills. On his seventh "go-round," Glen lost precious seconds when he got off to a slow start, had to chase his calf halfway across the arena before he got within lariat range. Leaping out of the saddle, pigging string clutched in his teeth, he flung the calf to the ground and climbed astride, pinning the flailing legs between his own knees and "windmilling" the string around the animal's ankles. Throwing up his arms in a gesture of victory, Franklin...
...thrown by hand. It took Altizer 21.5 sec. to do the job. Oliver spurted into a 7-sec. lead. Doggedly, Altizer cut the lead to 2.9 sec.-but now he was pressing. He missed on his first attempt to lasso his ninth calf, had to whip out a reserve lariat and chase the calf again, lost a few precious seconds. "That done it," groaned an Altizer fan. "He's lost." At the end, Oliver's winning margin was 7.5 sec. The Texans glumly paid off their bets and demanded a rematch...