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

Both hero and plot seemed the mixture as before. In Bombay, Italian Movie Director Roberto Rossellini, in India since January to shoot documentary films, was lodged in Room 544A of the big, baroque Taj Mahal Hotel. Next door, in connecting Suite 545, was ensconced a tall Indian woman named Sonali Das Gupta, 27, mother of two boys and wife of one of India's top film producers, Hari Das Gupta. Sonali had larger accommodations, presumably because her 6-month-old son was sometimes brought to stay with her there. The couple seldom emerged from their quarters even for meals. To Bombay newsmen Rossellini explained: "It's just a business relationship." Asked in Paris about the Bombay situation, Ingrid Bergman Rossellini, a superb actress, laughed convincingly, then said: "Tell people I laughed. Tell them not to pay any attention to that story. We don't."

In two lectures at Oxford University, Harvard Historian Samuel Eliot Morison, the U.S. Navy's official chronicler of World War II, took a fall out of Sir Winston Churchill's wartime strategy. The trouble: Churchill was "peripheral-minded" and wanted to send raiding parties at Europe's defensive shores "like jackals worrying a lion." Snorted Morison: "From most of [Churchill's] favorite targets you could not go anywhere!" Of the successful Normandy invasion in 1944: "But for the insistent,, unremitting, often rude and tactless pressure by Roosevelt, Marshall, Eisenhower and others to cross the Channel in force . . . and surge on to the heart of Hitler's

Reich, there would have been no cross-Channel operation that year. It would have been sacrificed in favor of ... various desultory and haphazard operations."

Pert Ethel Kennedy, wife of the chief counsel to the Senate's rackets probers (see NATIONAL AFFAIRS), took her kiddies to the capital's current big show, their daddy's relentless untangling of the Teamsters Union's knotty finances and snarled ties. To the children--Kathleen, 5, Robert Jr., 3, and Joseph, 4--it was often a circus as Ringmaster Robert Kennedy cracked dossiers like whips and fired questions like pistol shots. If sometimes the kids fell into daydreamy boredom, it was perhaps because they missed the main event--a performing bear named Dave Beck who specialized in playing dead at the drop of a query.

On the third anniversary of the Supreme Court's epochal desegregation decision, some 14,000 Negroes and whites, members of a Prayer Pilgrimage for Freedom, converged on Washington, D.C.'s Lincoln Memorial temple. The three-hour program offered some prayers, hymns, solemn speeches and outright rabble-rousing. New York's shrill Democratic Congressman Adam Clayton Powell bitterly cried: "We meet here today in front of the Lincoln Memorial because we are getting more from a dead Republican than we are from live Democrats and live Republicans!" In direct contrast, staking his hopes on the future rather than anchoring his peeves on the past, was Montgomery, Ala.'s soft-spoken Pastor Martin Luther King (TIME, Feb. 18). Gist of the Rev. King's eloquent plea to the White House and Congress: "Give us the ballot and we will no longer have to worry the Federal Government about our basic rights . . . We will quietly and nonviolently, without rancor or bitterness, implement the Supreme Court's decision . . ."

For the past 29 years "attending physician" to Congress, Dr. George Calver, 69, summed up the greatest heart-tiring hazards to his 531 charges: 1) constituents who ply their Congressman or Senator with heavy dinners, 2) Washington hostesses who stuff him with rich viands, 3) filibustering. Of the last hazard Dr. Calver said: "I have been known to make people stop speaking." His filibuster buster: he sends one of the orator's colleagues to deliver a casual warning: "Dr. Calver is watching you, and you're going too far."

Italy's hell-for-rubber Piero Taruffi, 50, the "Old Fox" and winner of the goriest Mille Miglia road race, which brought death to Spain's Marquis de Portage, two other drivers and nine spectators (TIME, May 20), decided to leave his profession alive. "I have sworn to my wife Isabella that I will never race again," said he solemnly. "Roads have become insufficient in the face of mechanical progress. It is impossible to guarantee the safety of spectators."

In the depths of a batting slump, the New York Yankees' hefty Rightfielder Hank Bauer was accused of almost knocking the cover off a well-stuffed (close to 200 Ibs.) Manhattan delicatessen owner. The victim was laid up with a cracked nose, broken jaw and slight concussion. The victim's brother, foggily shifting the locale of the brawl among various dingy recesses of Manhattan's brassy Copacabana nightclub, asserted that Bauer, known to his pals as "The Bruiser," did it. As far as Bauer would allow, it must have been two other guys. The victim, unsure about his slugger's identity, later blubbered through his battered lips: "You know how it is! Everybody was drinking. The Yanks were feeling no pain. I love the Yankees! I even love Bauer!"

Peking's China Youth News released some fascinating details about an epic swim of Red China's Board Chairman Mao Tse-tung down the Yangtze River. . Last year, smashing all records for the course, corkish Mao, then 63, reportedly negotiated a 12 1/2-mile distance in a sensational two hours flat. What's more, disclosed China Youth News, some of the fishiest young local mermen tried to keep up with him, came close to drowning before being hauled into an accompanying boat at the halfway point. Superswimmer Mao's technique was explained in a paean from Hong Kong's Wen Wei Pao (Literary Collections): "He floated face up, seemingly without effort, making one or two strokes now and then, his serene face full of smiles as he enjoyed the scenery on both banks." Moral: when in Red China. don't buck the current--just drift as the chairman does.

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