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

The suddenly estranged husband of British Cinemonroe Diana Dors, onetime Pugilist Dennis Hamilton, set a record for terse explanations of marital collapses. Said he informatively: "It is a matter which concerns only Diana, Mr. Rod (The Big Knife) Steiger and myself."

White supremacy came, as it seems to come to many U.S. college fraternities, to Northwestern University's chapter of Psi Upsilon, which has no racial-discrimination provision in its charter. The victim: Sherman Wu, a freshman and son of Nationalist China's onetime (1949-53) Formosan Governor K. C. Wu (Grinnell '23). Young Sherman, a bright and ingratiating chap, had been pledged by Psi U, broken bread with his fraternity brothers, even had his picture taken with them. But nobody told Wu that eight of his fellow pledges, all equally desirable fellows, had turned thumbs down on Psi U because it had let down its bars to an Oriental.

After grappling manfully with their financial threat, the Psi-Uers depledged Sherman Wu. Without a sign of protest, he turned in his fraternity pin. Just to make Wu's blackballing official, the Psi-Uers had themselves photographed again, this time with an unbroken symmetry of white, 100% American faces.

Having foregone his songwriting, saxophone-tootling and other worldly pleasures for 15 days, Thailand's young (28) King Phumiphon Adundet this week wound up his term as a Buddhist monk (TIME, Sept. 24). In keeping with the royal tradition that a Thai king should spend some time as a priest (like any devout male commoner). Phumiphon, saffron-robed, barefoot and shaven-pated, had turned his kingdom into the hands of Queen Sirikit, 24, who acted as regent during the King's religious furlough.

In her Manhattan apartment, Monaco's blooming Princess Grace, six months pregnant and 26 Ibs. heavier, toyed with tiny garments and confessed that too much spaghetti and noodles helped put her in her present distention. Grace and expectant Papa Rainier both hope to present Monaco with a boy, but have not yet settled on a name. Said Grace: "I love the name Henry, but the Prince doesn't . . ." Drawing on old wives' tales to support her anticipation, Grace wishfully explained: "They claim you have a boy if you carry to the front. It might be a boy. He kicks hard."

In Formosa, Nationalist China's austere President Chiang Kaishek, for the moment at least a bystander to history, turned 70, still dreamed of recapturing the Chinese mainland, still showed no signs that the Red Chinese newspapers he reads each morning at breakfast are spoiling his appetite.

After getting a delicate briefing on discretion in necklines, Cinemarvel Marilyn (Bus Stop) Monroe undulated into London's Empire Theater and was presented to Princess Margaret and another gracious lady just her own age (30). It was the annual Royal Command film performance, and Queen Elizabeth II, mindful that Marilyn's country manor is near

Windsor Castle, beamed to Marilyn, lightly wrapped in gold lame: "We're neighbors!" Also on hand to meet the Queen was beautiful-hunk-of-man Cinemactor Victor (I Wake Up Screaming) Mature, so edgy that he later could not remember a word that Her Majesty uttered to him.

In Copenhagen on tour, the New York City Ballet Company's twinkle-toed Ballerina Tanaquil LeClercq grew weak in her talented legs, was unable to continue dancing with the troupe, shortly lay bedded in a local hospital. A tentative, ugly diagnosis: polio.

Wheeling along a road in Missouri, hell-giving Campaigner Harry Truman was confronted by an even more formidable obstacle than Republicans. Nine hogs were loose on the highway. With the help of a cop from his home town of Independence, ex-President Truman herded the beasts back into their home sty. Said the farmer's wife who saw Harry corral her husband's pigs: "The man looked a little like Mr. Truman, but I didn't see how it could have been!"

Honey-throated Singer Nat King Cole, slated to begin his own NBC-TV show this week, surveyed some of his recent accomplishments as a quintuple-threat entertainer--sound-tracking the title song for the movie Autumn Leaves, crooning (by phonograph) in the Broadway hit Middle of the Night, packing mobs currently into a brassy Manhattan nightspot, chalking up his 37th hit record (200,000 or more disks sold), Night Lights. Has such all-round success made him happy? Moaned Cole: "I'd give it all up if only I could be a good baseball player."

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