"Names make news." Last week these names made this news:

In the House of Representatives' Cloak Room, Pennsylvania Congressman James P. McGranery tried to set off a firecracker under Arkansas Congressman Claude A. Fuller, held it too long, got a badly burned hand.

To celebrate July 4, New Jersey's Governor Harold Giles Hoffman put out

from Asbury Park in a 52-foot power boat to review the Manasquan River deep-sea fishing fleet. A half-mile offshore, just when a water bucket had been tied on the Governor's line to show him how a tuna feels, a stunning explosion took place in the engine room, the yacht burst into flames. Governor Hoffman and his party of 27 were rescued, unscathed. The yacht burned to the water, was overturned and sunk by Coast Guardsmen.

"Mary had a little lamb its fleece was white as snow and everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go." Thus, as his father had done before him, and on the same spot in Menlo Park, N. J., recited Assistant Secretary of Navy Charles Edison, son of the late Inventor Thomas Alva Edison, into the straight horn of the first phonograph ever manufactured, as part of the cornerstone ceremony of an Edison "Tower of Light" monument, to be surmounted by a 13-ft. incandescent bulb.

At the spot in Ver-sur-Mer, France, where Rear Admiral Richard Evelyn

Byrd and his crew of three crashed the America after their June 1927 transatlantic flight, the Byrd Foundation Committee laid the cornerstone for a monument to the flyer: a "sanctuary" for flyers of all nations and an orphanage for children of flyers.

In Africa's Kenya Colony jungle Mrs. Osa Johnson, widow of Explorer Martin Johnson, leading a safari to make moving pictures, rescued her friends Canadian Goldminer Phillip Whitmarsh and his wife. Flying to join the Johnson party, they had crashed 30 miles from Nairobi, spent four days without food. In the London Sunday Chronicle, James Allan Mollison, stubby four-time trans-Atlantic flyer and, in 1932, first person to fly solo across the North Atlantic east to west, serialized his autobiography. Week before publication was to start he blurbed: "The world knows me as a hero, but I am a night bird. . . . Life for me begins when daylight fades and bright lights glitter in the bars and clubs from here to Honolulu. ... I cried when I left my Tahiti sweetheart. . . . Amy [Johnson Mollison, who lately divorced him] has been wonderful to me, but we are poles apart." From England, Col. Charles Augustus Lindbergh flew to Dinan, Brittany, then drove a hired auto to the coast. When no power boat met him he paddled a quarter of a mile in a collapsible rubber boat to little St. Gildas Island to visit his friend and colleague, Dr. Alexis Carrel.

At Mount Diablo, Calif., 25 miles east of San Francisco, Playwright Eugene

O'Neill bought a 160-acre tract of land, planned to build a $40,000 Spanish Mission house into which he and his wife, one-time Actress Carlotta Monterey, who was born Carlotta Hill at nearby Monterey, Calif., hope to move next December.

To prove that she and Adolf Hitler are still on good terms, Cinemactress Leni Riefenstahl appeared in Paris and handed out autographed snapshots taken the day before at a party on her estate near Berlin, showing herself in the company of the Fuehrer and Nazi Propaganda Minister Paul Joseph Goebbels, reported by Paris-Soir last month to have publicly denounced her as a Jew (TIME, June 21).

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