Coral Gables Historical Archive
The Coral Gables Times
Thursday, May 4, 1961, page 44 (of 56)
The page
The text of this pageRead by computer from the scan, so some words may be wrong. The page picture is the original.
Every dog is more dog when he's fed the Diet of Champions
Ken-L BISKIT Prize winner or pal, Ken-L-Biskit brings out the best in your dog Concentrated Ken-L-Biskit provides twice the power of lean beefsteak!* *Ken-L-Biskit is a concentrated kibble. Ounce for ounce, it provides twice the calories (energy-power) of the most flavorful lean beefsteak you can feed your family. And unlike so many other dry dog foods, Ken-L-Biskit is not "blown up." This means, cup for cup, there's more protein, more vitamins, more minerals, more of every nutrient your dog is known to need. Because Ken-L-Biskit does so much more, you can feed less of it. Hence a most happy economy. And slow oven baking enriches the great flavor of Ken-L-Biskit. Makes for best digestibility, too. Since every bit of every bite works to create the peak condition and wonderful spirit of a champion, it's no wonder Ken-L-Biskit is the world's largest-selling kibbled dog food! Now available at your favorite food store. KEN-L-BISKIT Official food at more American Kennel Club Shows than all other dog foods combined
Occupation
Jean Kerr, best-selling author and half a dozen full-time jobs, five of BY ROLLIE HOCHSTEIN WHEN Jean Kerr is faced with a form to fill out, one heading always stops her: OCCUPATION. She's an author, of course. Her "Please Don't Eat The Daisies" spiced best-seller lists for fifty weeks after its publication two years ago. Her second book, "The Snake Has All The Lines," is just out and well on its way. Mrs. Kerr is also a playwright. She co-authored "The King Of Hearts," which, after a hit run on Broadway, is still popular in the summer-theater circuit. And her new comedy, "Mary, Mary," is being hailed as "theater magic." As the wife of Walter Kerr, a well-known drama critic, she accompanies her husband to dozens of theater openings, often weaving other obligations into her city excursions—like consulting with her publisher, looking in a rehearsal of her latest play, or autographing a few hundred copies of her latest book. Further, a seventeen-year-old, strictly nonprofessional collaboration of Jean and Walter Kerr has produced a family of boys—five of them—in an old, overgrown "gingerbread" house in Larchmont, New York. To juggle all her jobs would tax the talents of a crisply efficient, highly charged regimentarian, which Jean Kerr is not. She is rather shy, soft-spoken, self-effacing, and completely unpretentious. She says she is slow-moving, noisy, and irascible at home. Either way, she is too spontaneous to be comfortable on a tight schedule. So she doesn't juggle. She simply takes first things first. Her first things come in fives. She enjoys describing herself as harassed and overwhelmed by her sons, but there is no doubt that she has the situation firmly in hand. She certainly knows who's who around the house—and so do her children. "CHRISTOPHER," she marvels, "is just fifteen, and he looks like a man. He weighs 180 pounds, and it somehow makes me feel younger to have a son bigger than I am. Chris is unsettling because he never defies me. I ask him to pick the newspapers off the floor, and he makes all the motions of doing it. Only he doesn't do it. I turn around and he's gone, papers still there. I wish he'd say 'No!' outright and then I could handle him." Colin and John are a pair of usually reasonable, usually well-behaved twins. "At eleven," Mrs. Kerr says, "they are sensible, middle-aged types. I wish I were as mature as they are right now." Gilbert, eight, is what his mother describes as a "lunatic type. He's so busy catching up with everybody else that he runs in circles." Gregory is two. "I don't know if I'm getting experienced at all this or if he really is the easiest baby we've ever had. My mother wonders why Gregory's so contented playing by himself. I tell her we don't care what he does with his spare time. We're no dictators." 22 Suburbia Today, May 1961