The Eighth Tribe, 1975 (2. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1975-11-01 / 11. szám
Page 8 THE EIGHTH TRIBE November, 1975 foot-twitching musical renditions. The cool night air gradually did bring about an end, finally, to what had been a most delightful and pleasant second annual Hungarian Festival with hopes, most assuredly, from many individuals for continuation through ongoing years of this type of celebration OF, BY, and FOR the Hungarian ethnic group, as well as perhaps other interested cultural identities. The entire day’s events came about as a result of much work from many persons — but then the endresults were appreciated and much enjoyed by many more persons in countless ways! /X/X/XSX/X/X/X/X/. 7J717371Tj Book Review: NAMATH: “MY SON JOE” — Rose Namath Szolnoki. 131 pages. Newly released in hardcover by Oxmoor House for $7.95. What pantyhose and the right lighting can accomplish for Joe Namath’s banged up legs, a mother’s memory and zealous loyalty can accomplish for her youngest son’s “tarnished” image. Thus in Namath: My Son Joe, Rose Namath Szolnoki almost singlehandedly (she collaborates with Bill Kushner) undertakes a public relations campaign to correct the public’s view of her boy. Ask anyone in America what word associations they come up with when Joe Namath’s name is mentioned and most likely you’d end up with a list like playboy, Broadway Joe, knees, swinging bachelor, pantyhose, popcorn, and you might even receive some references to football. At any rate hardly anyone would pop out with Mama’s boy. Take a look at the ex-Mrs. Namath’s book and you’d expect her associations would be something like mischievous, shy, honest, trustworthy, brave... In short he comes across as the typical good scout, but all boy. A warmhearted account of her son Joey’s upbringing in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, the book is a collection of Namath anecdotes and photographs. She tells about the time Joe smeared brown shoe polish on his face so that he could look like his pal up the block. Or how ’bout the time Rose Namath hung up a sign saying “Welcome Home, Mommie’s Hero” and Joe kept snatching it down until he ended up ripping it apart? You get the impression that you’re at a family reunion remembering the good times. But Rose Namath also tells about some of the hard times, like when Joe was kicked off the Alabama team for disciplinary reasons. Besides the biased portrait of the quarterback as a young man, what emerges is a portrait of a strong-willed yet affectionate Hungarian mother who had to struggle through the Depression years with five kids. In his introduction called “Always a Rose,” Joe Namath tells us that this book is a true story of his life as his Mom saw it, though his Mom tends to get facts mixed up and then confuses everybody else in her confusion. He writes about a typical day in her life when she had a whole airport in an uproar because to get to the other side of the airport she thought it simpler and only logical to walk across the runway rather than take a walk around the terminal. By the time that incident was over, she had even boggled the police with her reasoning. Indeed Joe’s mother is different, and from his tone he wouldn’t trade Mama Rose for the most exquisite orchid.
