People: Nov. 29, 1982

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In his final years in the major leagues, Ball Four Author Jim Bouton, 43, was always looking for a gimmick to extend his pitching career, and as an ex-ballplayer, he has not changed much. His idea for Big League Chew, a bestselling chewing plug-like pouch of shredded gum for sand-lot Harvey Kuenns, made Bouton rich. And he has now moved on to the diamond status symbol that really separates the men from the boys: baseball cards. (The men are on them, and the boys collect them.) Bouton has come up with a proletarian variation on the real thing, individually printed baseball cards for even the weekend rightfielder. Bouton produces regulation-size, full-color replicas with any subject's face on the front and his stats on the reverse. Cost: $25 for a minimum of 50 cards, gum included. That's only a bit more than Bouton's real card is worth. "Mickey Mantle's card from his rookie year sells for around $2,500," sighs the pitchman. "Mine goes for about 17¢. For some reason it doesn't sell for the same price as Mickey's."

If there has to be a TV remake of Witness for the Prosecution, who could be more tony (or should that be Emmy?) in the Charles Laughton-Elsa Lanchester parts than Sir Ralph Richardson, 79, and Deborah Kerr, 61? Kerr's role in the Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation next month on CBS is a departure from the oh-so-proper image that she usually projects. Says she: "Playing a bossy nurse to a tempestuous old gentleman is much more fun than playing glamorous women." And, as Richardson would surely add, a good deal more fun for the old gentleman too.

It was intended as a gala reception for French Photographer Jacques-Henri Lartigue, 88, but the models stole the show. Christie Brinkley, 27, and Cheryl Tiegs, 35, both came to meet the master snapshot artist at New York City's International Center of Photography. The two had never modeled the same clothes together on a professional shoot, but on this occasion— Miracle on Seventh Avenue—they were outfitted in the same dress, a black taffeta by a new fashion flash named Fabrice. It may be the most embarrassing thing that can happen to a woman, but, says Christie, "it does wonders for the designer."