Names make news. Last week these names made this news: Cinemactor Charles (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes}. Coburn, 77, one of Hollywood's favorite choices for bloated-plutocrat roles, stood up before the Chamber of Commerce in the Chicago suburb of Hinsdale and told the boys why plutocrats are no longer bloated. His subject: "Freedom or Slavery." His target: the federal income tax. Appearing near by in a summer theater production of You Can't Take It With You, Coburn lamented that he cannot even keep it while he is alive. "I have paid $1,000,000 in federal income taxes in 15 years, and yet if I am sick one year I am bankrupt," cried he, jowls atremble.

"If we abolish the 16th [income tax] Amendment, some people will say, 'How are we going to pay the expenses of the Government?' To hell with that! I want to know how I am going to pay my own expenses." Many who could remember the hey-dey of a dashing Prince of Wales were reminded of their own advancing years when, in Paris, the gaunt, slightly bent Duke of Windsor awoke one morning last week and found himself 60 years old.

The Marquesa de Villaverde, 27, daughter of Spain's Dictator Francisco Franco, arrived in Manhattan with her handsome surgeon husband, the Marques, who plans to study heart surgery' in U.S.

hospitals. Back in Madrid, meanwhile, Father Franco indicated that he might be willing to tolerate the pomp and pageantry of a Borbon restoration, provided, of course, that the real power behind the shaky throne remains his. He received Prince Juan Carlos, 16, son of Don Juan, pretender to the throne, and the prince's younger brother, Prince Alfonso, 13. In an official press release covering the princes' visit, Don Juan was significantly referred to as "august," a peculiarly monarchic adjective in Spain and a word applied officially to no blueblood since the abdication of King Alfonso XIII in 1931.

The White House rushed through a promotion to rear admiral for retired Navy Commander Donald B. MacMillan, 79, whose first Arctic expedition, with Rear Admiral Robert E. Peary in 1908-09, was prevented from being his last by Peary, who warmed Captain Mac's wet feet against Peary's own body to keep them from freezing. After his promotion, Rear Admiral MacMillan shoved off from

Boothbay Harbor, Me. for his 30th trip to the polar regions and a reunion with old Eskimo friends.

During a breather between her official duties Luz Banzon Magsaysay, pretty wife of Philippines President Ramon Magsaysay, was pictured cool and carefree in Manila.

Shortly after her husband took off for Washington with Prime Minister Winston Churchill to appraise the decline of the West (see NATIONAL AFFAIRS), Mrs. Clarissa Eden, 34, Sir Winston's niece and wife of Britain's Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, nervously checked into a London hospital for observation.

While touring some farm buildings at Pennsylvania State College, mild-mannered Secretary of Agriculture Ezra Taft Benson was asked by a brash photographer if he could milk a cow. His dander up, Farmer Benson reached for the nearest teat, proved his skill by squirting a jet of milk into the photographer's eye.

"The idea!" snorted the Secretary. "Asking me if I can milk a cow!" Britain's former Red-routing High Commissioner in Malaya, General Sir Gerald Templer, and his wife Ethel arrived at London Airport to face the perils of Western civilization and an indefinite leave for Sir Gerald, pending announcement of his new command.

With an impish grin. Author Ludwig Bemelmans described the hidden plot in his latest work, Madeline's Rescue, which most folks have not yet recognized as an allegory. "Actually, the scene is a brothel and Madeline, although I portray her as an innocent tot, is one of the girls," said he. "It is all very naughty. Madeline goes out to look for Genevieve, another girl, whom I made a dog in the book. Genevieve has become pregnant and the management of the establishment has turned her out into the street. The search leads into a very questionable Parisian bistro called Deux Magots, through a cemetery where we see the melancholy epitaph on Oscar Wilde's tombstone*, and onward among the lovers in the park. Genevieve cannot be found, but one night she returns. She has her baby, which in the book is twelve puppies. Everyone rejoices and the girls all live happily together as before." Then Allegorist Bemelmans proudly displayed the Caldecott Award, which the unsuspecting American Library Association had just bestowed on Madeline as the best children's book of the year.

*"And alien tears/ Will fill for him/ Pity's long broken urn/ For his mourners/ Will be outcast men/ And outcasts/ Always mourn."

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