Divorced. Woolworth Donahue, 33, idle-rich grandson and heir of Frank Winfield Woolworth (F. W. Woolworth & Co.); by Gretchen Wilson Donahue, 32, ex-wife of John Randolph Hearst; after six years of marriage, three of separation, no children; in Las Vegas, Nev.

Divorced. By Sylvia Sidney, 37, cinemactress and onetime wife of Publisher Bennett (Try and Stop Me) Cerf: Luther Adler, 42, actor son of famed Yiddish Actor Jacob P. Adler; after seven and a half years of marriage, one child; in Los Angeles.

Divorced. Mickey Walker, 44, world's middle and welterweight champ of the '20s, today a self-taught, persevering painter; by Wife No. 3 Eleanor Marvil Walker; after seven years of marriage, one child; in Newark, N.J. Said she: "Art is now Mickey's only love."

Died. Leon Cortes Castro, 63, fascist-minded President of Costa Rica from 1936-40; of a heart attack; in Santa Ana, Costa Rica.

Died. Francis Trenholm ("Hurry Up") Crowe, 63, big (205 lb., 6 ft. 3 in.), brainy civil engineer who built more dams than any man in history (19, including Boulder and Shasta); of a heart attack; in Redding, Calif. Blustering Hurry Up Crowe once bellowed at a worker: "Watch what the hell you're doing or you'll fall and break your neck." Retorted the worker: "Well, it's my neck." Shot back Crowe: "Yes, it's your neck now, but as soon as you break it, it's mine."

Died. Alfred G. Gardiner, 80, author of trenchant political analyses and humorous homilies (under the pen name: "Alpha of the Plough"), longtime editor of London's now-defunct Daily News; at Princes Risborough, England.

Died. Logan Pearsall Smith, 80, critic and essayist whose ironic, japanned prose* (All Trivia, On Reading Shakespeare) brought him only closet fame; in London. Philadelphian by birth, Londoner by choice, he felicitously chronicled small beer and rusticated in Literature Past, only now & then spoke over his shoulder to Literature Present such querulous words as: Why does Ezra Pound?

* A chip, from All Trivia:

I paused, before opening the front door, for a moment of deep consideration.

Dim-lit, shadowy, full of menace and unimaginable chances, stretched all around my door the many-peopled streets. I could hear, ominous and muffled, the tides of traffic, sounding multitudinously along their ways. Was I equipped for the navigation of those waters, armed and ready to adventure out into that dangerous world again?

Gloves? Money? Cigarettes? Matches? Yes; and I had an umbrella for its tempests, and a latchkey for my safe return.

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