"He can't sing much better than a shower warbler," carped one drama critic. But on creaky knee and in creakier voice, Joe Namath scored big with his audience in Li'l Abner. Making his musical debut at Atlanta's Civic Center, the former New York Jet nimbly slipped through some opening-night tight spots. When upstaged by a squealing pig, he simply outbellowed the boorish ham. Later, when his pitch wandered way offsides in a love duet with Hee-Haw's Misty Rowe as Daisy Mae, off-Broadway Joe just laughed along with the twittering crowd and won a round of sympathetic applause. "Singing is a new experience, and there's lots of room for improvement," he admitted later. But shucks, said the pride of Dogpatch, "the people surely liked the show."
The people of Hyannis, Mass., most of them Republicans, forgave Rose Kennedy years ago for rearing a President and two Senators of the Democratic persuasion. So hundreds of residents turned out for a "Rose Parade" celebrating her 90th birthday. Materfamilias, resplendent in a bright, broad-brimmed hat, was not quite up to joining those marching a mile and a half in behalf of her favorite charity, the Special Olympics for the mentally retarded. But she waved and smiled heartily from a 1940 Buick convertible as the crowd sang "Happy Birthday" and a plane towed a similar greeting across the summer sky. What did Rose wish for on the day marking her nine decades of tragedy and triumph? Said she, looking wistful: "So many things..."
It is a dull, gray morning in Bucharest. Two citizens enter a district city hall to exchange perfunctory "Da's " as required by law. Switch to Technicolor. Tennis Ace Bjorn Borg, in a blue blazer, no headband, and his love of four years, Rumanian Pro Mariana Simionescu, step outside into the bright sunlight and a cheering crowd of 2,000. Among them are 50 members of the Rumanian National Tennis Federation, who raise flower-bedecked racquets in a ceremonial arch. Kiss, smile, applause. Exeunt the couple in a Swedish Saab. Scene 2—Religious Ceremony. An unruly mob awaits the Borgs' arrival at the Caldarusani Monastery, 25 miles from the capital. Tennis Star Vitas Gerulaitis, arriving on foot, has to fight his way in as three priests and two Orthodox bishops preside over hourlong rites. "We are being trampled!" shouts Borg's mother, as she is shoved toward a rosebush on her way out. But the crowd is delighted with the dazzling scene: the world's finest tennis player and, at his side, a native daughter, radiant in a jewel-encrusted gown by Tenniswear Couturier Ted Tinling; it cost, they say, $8,000—four times the average Rumanian's yearly salary. "Long life!" chants the choir, and the couple heads off, this time in a flower-festooned oxcart, into the sun.