Word: lockerful
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Each June for the last three years a locker in the coaches' room at Newell Boat House has been left vacant over the summer and regularly a new coach's clothes have hung there the next all. The crew shorts this fall belong to Derrick Wilde, University single sculling champion who succeeds Lee Rouner as the new 150 pound varsity and freshman coach. Rouner, who rowed with the varsity heavies for two years, is now in University Hall as an assistant dean of freshmen...
...weeks a bass voice, in thrilling tones, kept shouting "Retreat, Hell" over the radio to herald a really inferior war picture. After Retreat, Hell came the Miracle and The Moon Is Blue. Now Washington Street marquees bear a revolting resemblance to the walls of a grammar school locker room...
...important difference. Edmund O'Brien, as the cop, goes sour for so little money ($25,000) that the audience can hardly believe it until somebody explains that he is "probably psycho." The climax comes in a chase through a swimming pool and into the girls' locker room, with the air full of hard bullets and soft flesh-a scene that may make moviegoers wonder if Actor O'Brien, who also helped to direct the picture, meant to outrage their better instincts or tickle their worse ones. In any case, Shield for Murder is memorable only...
Currently the darling of the sportswriters, Mays has been widely depicted in print as a high-spirited chatterbox, a dugout wit and locker room clown. On the field he often does crackle like an old Ford magneto, kids in a boy-and-father way with Manager Durocher. But off the field Mays curbs his tongue and his curiosity. "When Willie wants to know something," says Guardian Forbes, with considered understatement, "he'll ask a simple question. All he wants is a simple answer. Then he don't see any reason for chewing it up any further. Willie...
...visitors' locker room at Ebbets Field, the Giants sulked away a long afternoon while they waited to start the last of the series with the archenemy. Outside, a thin rain drenched Brooklyn. "Do you think those bums'll call it off?" muttered Hank Thompson as he riffled through his fan mail. "Hell, no. Anything for a lousy dollar." He slouched over for a rubdown from the trainer. Off in a corner, Willie Mays and his road-trip roommate, Monte Irvin, laughed apathetically over a joke. Across the room, a group of players carried on a silent gin-rummy...