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

For Michigan's first lady, it seems, nothing is too good--or too big. In the limelight at a 43rd birthday party for Governor Gerhard Mennen ("Soapy") Williams' wife Nancy was a great big cake thoughtfully donated by a Lansing restaurateur, who happens to have the cafeteria concession in the new State Office Building. Modeled after the State Capitol, the 48-layer, 4 1/2-ft-tall goody measured 22 ft. in perimeter, weighed 650 Ibs., required 500 eggs, 90 Ibs. of butter, 120 Ibs. of sugar, was hauled to Detroit by truck in six sections. Sharing the buttercream mess with some 4,000 guests, the Governor paid his pretty wife the obvious, ultimate compliment: "I think she deserves every bit of it."

Missileman Wernher von Broun, 46, who next year undergoes the accolade normally bestowed on wealthy songwriters, dead Presidents and western gun toters--a movie based on his life--had a cheery hello in St. Louis (see EDUCATION) for an old acquaintance: Richard Fein, a sergeant in the U.S. Army squad to which the rocket expert surrendered in Germany in 1945. "You look different," said Fein. Patting his middle, Banquet Circuit Victim von Braun gamely cracked: "I'm losing the battle of the bulge."

Old Political Wheeler-and-Dealer Harry Truman, arriving in France for a short vacation, for once in his life refused to discuss politics with waiting newsmen, modestly placed himself in the scheme of things: "I'm just a simple retired farmer from Missouri."

Reliving the good old days on Line 23, Russian-born Impresario Sol Hurok, 70, returned to the scene of his first U.S. job (as a conductor on Philadelphia trolleys in 1906), picked up a whereas-laden scroll from the city council, honoring him for his contributions to Philadelphia culture, put on a visored cap and an owlish mood to collect a symbolic token or two. Hurok sheepishly admitted that he was fired from the job "because the dispatcher soon found out that I was letting passengers off at the wrong corners."

Ex-Prime Minister Clement Richard Attlee, since 1956 a member of the House of Lords (as the first Earl Attlee), described his move from the skirmishing of active politics: "It's like sipping champagne that has been on the table for five or six days," ungallantly proposed a mode of address for the first soon-to-be-appointed female members of Lords: "I should think they would be called Baron Ladies, and with considerable justice, I am sure."

On the advice of an old customer, sporty Playboy Porfirio Rubirosa, Manhattan's flossy Dunhill Tailored Clothes, Inc. phoned Rubi's high-salaried ($600,000 a year) nightclubbing buddy, Lieut. General Rafael Trujillo Jr., who agreed that his wardrobe needed a little touching up, ordered himself: 14 single-breasted herringbone and plaid suits ($285 each); four Saxony wool sports coats ($196 each); 10 sports shirts ($20 to $30 apiece); 24 dress shirts ($33 each); 50 neckties ($7.50 each); four pairs of English worsted flannel slacks ($88 each).

Registering a variety of unregal emotions, members of Britain's royal family--the Duke of Gloucester, Prince Philip, Princess Margaret, Queen Elizabeth II, the Queen Mother and the Princess Royal--lined the rails at Epsom Downs like the noble nag lovers in My Fair Lady's Act I Ascot Gavotte, watched Sir

Victor Sassoon's 18-to-1 shot, Hard Ridden, win the 179th running of the Derby Stakes while the Queen's horse, Miner's Lamp, trailed in fifth.

"For the relief of Olivia Mary Galante," read the bill stuffed in the congressional hopper by Pennsylvania's Democratic Representative Francis E. Walter. The proposal: let Tokyo-born Cinemactress Olivia de Havilland, wife of Paris Journalist Pierre Galante, keep her U.S. citizenship without spending at least 18 months of every five years in the U.S., as must all naturalized Americans. No movie buff, Congressman Walter, co-author of the McCarran-Walter Act, who has kept a flinty eye on the foreign-born, seemed sure of Olivia's loyalty: "She is a lovely person, a very good American. She made it abundantly clear to me that her American citizenship is very dear to her."

To the rapturous cheers of 1,500 well-wishers from 62 countries, ever-beaming Ideologist Frank Buchman, founder of the Moral Re-Armament movement, celebrated his 80th birthday by presiding over the gathering of his clan at M.R.A.'s Mackinac Island (Mich.) summer training center. Between speeches of praise from devotees, Buchman pored over laudatory messages from (among others) West Germany's Konrad Adenauer, President Carlos Garcia of the Philippines, and 20 U.S. Senators.

Bravely attempting to do in Hawaii as the California tourists do, Iran's vacationing Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlevi got into blue-and-white trunks, dabbed himself with suntan oil and hired Waikiki Beachboy Percy Kinimaka to give him some dual time on a surfboard. After 30 minutes of instruction and two dunkings, the Shah triumphantly soloed 100 ft. through the briny to earn a small tribute from teacher: "A natural surfer." Back at his pine-shaded palace in Teheran, the Shah had earlier discussed his divorce from Princess Soraya, a water-ski student on her recent Bermuda trip, with a TIME correspondent: "It's the sort of tragedy that always waits around the corner for a man who puts his public life first. We were so close. I tried to appoint a crown prince, but everybody wanted somebody in the direct line. We had several meetings with our elder statesmen. They appealed to my sense of duty and patriotism. This is always my weak point. Who knows? Maybe deep inside of me I also wanted a son and heir. Maybe some egoistic motive influenced my decision. I can't deny it. I don't know."

Great Britain's high-spirited, accident-prone Duke of Kent, 22, whose driving record includes four flashy cars, four spectacular crackups, turned in his turquoise Aston Martin sports coupe, damaged in a spin on an icy road last December, for a new red 3.4-litre Jaguar sedan.

From Philosopher Will Durant, 72, to the graduating class of the Webb School of California came some advice on the feverish side of life. Marry, said Will (who plunged at 27), "as soon as you can keep the wolf from the door. You will be too young to choose wisely, but you won't be any wiser at 40. By submitting to marriage, we can take our minds off sex and become adult."

Earning a quick civic buck for himself in Manhattan was spruce, British-born Actor Maurice Evans, who seemed happy to accept his $3-a-day stipend as juror in New York Supreme Court. Jovial Thespian Evans, whose last acting job was playing the suave, alibi-minded plotter on an NBC-TV dramatization of Dial M for Murder six weeks ago, said: "I have worked for nothing a day for so long that this is a pleasure. I just hope it doesn't prejudice my claim for unemployment insurance."

Putting the kibosh on her irate, plow-dealing husband Andy, Minnesota's handsome, hard-working Democrat-Farmer-Labor Congresswoman Coya Knutson, 45, stoutly defended her handsome, hardworking assistant, Bill Kjeldahl, 30, in a folksy newsletter to the voters at home, hinted darkly that her political foes had been at foul play in backing husband Andy's plea that she veto her Bill (TIME, May 19), made it formally, firmly clear: "No foes and no member of my family will run my office."

Usually more sued against than suing, Paris' Communist newspaper L'Humanitee vented some bourgeois spleen on tootle-toned New Orleans Soprano Saxist Sidney Bechet in a fat 3,500.000-franc breach-of-contract suit, argued that the "Pope of Jazz," who backed out of a L'Humanitee-sponsored festival last summer claiming his health was poor, was actually making a "political retreat."

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