Let’s check in and see how the wide wide world of sports journalism has developed since the last time we looked at Sports Illustrated. So what’s changed in a few years between 1960 and 1967? The presence of major league sports, for one thing. The tone has shifted quite noticeably from covering the glitzy lives of international playboys (which, to be sure, is still there) to more spectator sports that the average Joe can catch up on during the weekend. The decade’s advances in broadcasting and color television, graphics technology, instant replays, et cetera made spectator sports like baseball, football, and tennis more accessible than they had ever been.
Some fun further reading on how television changed sports:
This issue has been fully digitized for your reading pleasure and can be read here
They still haven’t really grasped that a particularly attractive person on the cover sells more, but now they’ve gone from a crafty-looking old man playing Bridge to a shouty baseball player.
I don’t think I can handle the untamed wildness of a saddle shoe!
One last chance to live vicariously through your son and watch him on the field as he inevitably disappoints you and fails to live up to your unfair expectations. Admit it, Herb – your boy’s a sissy. You’d have been better off raising a girl to play football.
Next week sounds like the feature story is on sports statistics. Doesn’t that sound fun?
I can’t help but hear that “a lot of people do” in a really sheepish voice. And because the Internet is an incredible thing that we genuinely take for granted, you can read about Stewart E. Meyer’s amazing life of public service here.
Note his charming ascot.
This is a genuinely amazing ad. I’m not even a traveling businessman one steak away from a heart attack in 1967, and the soothing tone of the text is like wrapping a hug around me.
There’s something very unnerving about seeing a beer ad from the perspective of the beer.
Pity the Eumenical Open golf tournament didn’t catch on.
I think they were going for a femme fatale Bond girl vibe with that lady and her martini-killing dagger, but she just looks so bored.
There were surprisingly few ads for guns in this issue. which could be a seasonal thing.
You can read the full article here. After suffering a humiliating defeat to the Green Bay Packers in Superbowl I the previous January, the Kansas City Chiefs massacred the Chicago Bears 66-24. It took two more years for an AFL team to finally win a Superbowl.
I love the photo of the man with the newspaper being so incurably British. This writing is an amazing little microcosm of a fabulous star-studded world lost to time. Good old lazy, refined, summer money indeed.
Full article here. Notice Orlando Cepeda, who happens to have been the subject of our issue’s baseball feature back in 1960. This isn’t a groundbreaking article about the Cardinals but it is a fun one, and they seemed like they were having the time of their lives.
Still married! The writer seems to have quite a crush on both of them.
A short, lovely piece about spear fishing.
Still firmly in an era where it was expected that you’d wear a tie and a blazer to a football game, but now it seems more that you would wear this to a game if you were deliberately trying to look professional. Note that wearing a hat is becoming less and less essential.
At some point in history we went from “a razor is a scrap of metal that you wipe your face with” to “a razor is an over-engineered piece of landfill”
A Miss America who flies planes, a prince rescued from his burning yacht, a football player who keeps getting attacked by birds, and a group of children adorably asking the governor of New Mexico to let them play football without getting the sprinklers turned on them.
Again with the ingrained guarantee that your local Homelite salesperson will be a man. For the price of this chainsaw, you could get a typewriter. Which would you get?
Calling the Cleo Awards! This ad team says their cologne smells good!
Completing your fall wardrobe in colorful murky brownish-red!
It’s our old friend Commodore Whitehead, the Schweppes guy! Can’t you just hear him going on about the bittaaah lemon that makes a slightly taaaaht, truly adult mixaaaah.
The full article is here, and I hope you at least take the time to skim through it, because it’s insane. This is the indie movie of the year waiting to be made.
“The Hermes costs $129.50, about the same as two semesters of books…” in today’s math that is about $960. The accepted average cost of one semester’s worth of textbooks in 2017? $1,168.
I still find it strange that the brand of fabric is more prominently advertised than the brand of the clothing itself, but when you have the marketing power of Kodak behind you it’s going to be about the fabric they made and all else is secondary. Anyway, this is some great 60s art design.
Falstaff: what do you care, you just need a drink.
Dissonance with the whiskey ad aside, why didn’t they have any, you know, contact or outreach information for The United Way? It’s a cute cartoon, in kind of a “Daddy drank my lunch money” way, but it’s not going to have much effect.
I love Inez Sargent’s sassy Glengarry hat. Doreen Wilber went on to win the Olympic gold medal for Archery in 1972. Ken Cline now runs a company that manufactures soapbox derby car kits.
From this week’s reader mail: debating road decorations made of crushed oyster shells (ouch), defending the viability of an Olympics in Winnipeg, the manly man sport of Hurling, murdering flies, and a poem about wearing a goat.
Marlboro Country, where the length of your cigarette reflects your insecurity over your penis and the cattle loom ominously in shadow, waiting for you to finish your smoke before they gore you.
And that’s it for this week! Next week we are going back a decade into the domestic sphere with Western Family from May 1957!