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

The Red Dean of Canterbury, Kremlin-loving Dr. Hewlett Johnson, 82, an anachronistic Marxist who still sees the same world that was decried in the Communist Manifesto of 1848, wended his way to Britain's University of Durham, to harangue some 350 students on his threadbare theme of "world peace through trust in the Soviet Union." He had barely begun babbling when seven students entered the hall, bore down the aisle a coffin draped in Hungary's national colors, solemnly rested it before his rostrum. Chirped the Red Dean nervously, as applause filled the building: "May wars cease." After finishing his speech, he discovered that he should have hung onto his black Homburg. Some enterprising students had swiped it, later raffled it off in Durham through the sale of some 2,000 tickets at threepence apiece. Exulted one of the thieves: "For once, the Dean's name will be used to aid a worthy cause." The raffle proceeds were turned over to a fund for Hungarian relief.

First leaked last April, the news was made official last week by Iran's Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlevi that his only child, early-ripening Princess Shanaz, 16, daughter by the Shah's first wife (Egypt's Princess Fawzia, divorced by the Shah in 1948 for her failure to bear him a son), will soon be married. Her fiance: U.S.educated (University of Utah) Ardashir Zahedi, 28, son of Iran's ex-Premier Fazlollah Zahedi who, after helping to boot weepy old Mohammed Mossadegh from the premiership in 1953, was later himself edged out by the Shah amidst charges of corruption in Zahedi's regime. The Zahedis are not exactly paupers: young Ardashir, now serving as civil adjutant to the Shah, has already heaped some $50,000 worth of baubles upon Princess Shanaz.

Looking far younger than her years, Mamie Eisenhower, surrounded by the Eisenhower clan, romped through her 60th birthday party at the White House. She happily browsed through a welter of gifts --cocktail napkins, stockings, a pair of earbobs from her namesake niece Mamie, a lifesize, schoolgirlish portrait of herself from the National Citizens for Ei senhower-Nixon. As messages poured in, Mamie Eisenhower's personal secretary, Mary Jane McCaffree, bragged: "She's getting more mail than the President today!" Asked how she felt about spending another four years in the White House, Mamie, while posing for pictures in the library, said: "I'm feeling fine and very grateful." What manner of present had Ike given his wife? "That," laughed the President, "is our secret!"

Before leaving Washington to convalesce at Key West from his operation for intestinal cancer, mending Secretary of State John Foster Dulles (Princeton, '08) paid off a $1 bet to State Department Counselor Douglas MacArthur II (Yale, '32). The football score on which Dulles' crystal ball was cloudy: Yale, 42, Princeton, 20 (see SPORT).

Although he was one day short of being eight years old, Britain's heavily fore-locked Prince Charles whooped it up with ten other kiddies and Princess Anne at a cake-and-cartoon celebration in Buckingham Palace. Reason for the premature festivities: Charles's engagement book was too full of gym workouts, dancing classes and tutoring sessions to permit him to have a birthday party on his birthday.

From Paris came word that self-exiled Comedian Charlie Chaplin, 67, and his wife Oona, 31, expect their sixth child come spring.

After his office friends in Albany showered him with two dozen roses, a transistor radio and a chorus of Happy Birthday, New York's well-preserved Democratic Governor Averell Harriman, turning 65, acted like anything but a man now officially classified as eligible for social security benefits. Quipped Honest Ave to his staff: "For the first two years of my administration I could always blame all the mistakes on (Thomas E.) Dewey. Now those two years are almost up, and anything that goes wrong is my fault. I want you to remember that!"

Britain's blonde Biologist Helen Spurway Haldane, 41, wife of brilliant Biologist J.B.S. (for John Burdon Sanderson) Haldane, 64, emerged from a London pub after downing 3 1/2 pints of bitter, encountered a bobby and his police dog companion. She stamped on the dog's tail ("That's what dog's tails are for!") and clouted the cop. In court she chose a two-month stretch in Holloway Prison, rather than pay $45 in fines and costs. "I hope to go to India," she explained, "and I will be much happier with many of my friends if I, too, have been in a British jail." Resigned to his wife's self-martyrdom, Professor Haldane bravely stiffened his upper lip: "She would never forgive me if I paid her fine!"

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.