Under medical treatment in Rome, the ailing Imam of Yemen, 67, was suffering from arthritis, also reportedly from the effects of chewing too many qat leaves (a common Middle Eastern narcotic), swigging too many flagons of eau de cologne (he likes the stuff), and leaning too heavily on aphrodisiacs. In keeping with Arabian face-keeping, the oil-rich Imam arrived in Rome last month with an entourage of about 90 assorted Yemeni, including several Cabinet ministers, scimitar-bearing guards, three of his Queens, 23 concubines (who, according to the Italian Foreign Office, are not genuine harem types, "just slaves"). The Imam spends his time in Rome's Villa Margherita clinic, where a dozen doctors, both Yemeni and Roman, diligently labor to resharpen the Sword of Islam. Meanwhile, the women lounge around a beach hotel near Rome, relishing television, ice cream and high-calorific Italian cooking. They are protected from prying newsmen by dagger-brandishing Yemeni guards on the premises, jittery carabinieri at the portals.

Speaking at all-white Florida State University, Author Philip (Generation of Vipers) Wylie, 57, typically detoured from his academic chore (presenting two Wylie awards to future librarians), wished for a darker Dixie-to-come: "I hope that in a third of a century not only will we be integrated and almost all racism will be a historic fact we read about in old books, but I hope we'll be a lot further along toward all becoming tea-colored.''

Durable (fifty-fivish) Cinemactor Gary (An Affair to Remember) Grant, now separated from third wife Betsy, was living it up at the grand finale of the Cannes Film Festival. He had discovered a new diversion: Cinemactress Kim (Picnic)

Novak, 26, ensconced with her parents in the nearby villa of her great friend, Aly Khan, an absentee host. At a party in Cannes staged by Soviet film folk, Kim and Gary danced till dawn. Hearing that Grant will go to a Moscow movie festival in July, Kim unabashedly cooed: "I'd love to go with him."

Checking out of Manhattan's Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center after a lung-cancer operation (TIME, May n), TV-Radio Entertainer Arthur Godfrey, 55, met the press in the most harrowing interview of his life. Pale and shaky, he first tried to carry it off bravely: "Just like I told you when I came in, I feel fine." Though he soon gave way to tears, he still managed to keep his old red head in describing his bout with the malignant growth in his chest. "That damnable" tumor had even adhered to the aorta, great artery from the heart. Sobbing, Godfrey said: "Like all aviators. I'm not afraid of what I know about. Every time a pilot takes off, he takes what we call a calculated risk. He knows it could be the last time." Then Godfrey headed off for at least 60 days' complete rest in his Manhattan apartment, no definite future date on the air.

The will of English-born Doggerelist Robert W. Service, dead at 85 last year in Monte Carlo, disclosed last week that in succumbing to The Spell of the Yukon (published in 1907), Service successfully mined a heap of gold with his pen. His net estate: $297,874.

Taking their honeymoon in installments since the royal wedding last month, Japan's Crown Prince Akihito and Princess Michiko stole away to an imperial villa near the seaside resort of Hayama, some 50 miles south of Tokyo. In seclusion most of the time, they occasionally emerged, sportily attired, for strolls along the beach, seemed rapt in tranquil domesticity.

A rare old soldier who limits himself to few speeches, retired General Omar N. Bradley, now board chairman of Bulova Watch Co., finally took pains to rebuke "a distinguished wartime colleague of mine." Said Bradley: "The best service a retired general can perform is to turn in his tongue along with his suit and mothball his opinions." His target: Britain's retired Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery of Alamein, who let Bradley off easy in his potshotting memoirs, more recently lambasted current U.S. leadership. Another Bradleyism for Monty to ponder: "So swift has been the advance of technology in our armed forces that there are no longer any retired military authorities--only active and practicing ones."

Crossing razor-edged affidavits in a Manhattan court. Heiress Gloria ("Poor Little Rich Girl") Vanderbilt Stokowski Lumet, 35, joined battle with her ex-husband, white-maned Leopold Stokowski, over custody arrangements for their two sons, Stan. 9, and Christopher, 7. Insisting that Stokowski is really 85 (72, he claims) and "seeks to be restored to the tyrannical and despotic power he asserted over me when we were married," Gloria, herself a onetime child-custody pawn, disclosed that she once warned Stokie in a letter: "I do not want my boys exposed to your paranoid attitudes." In rejoinder, the maestro tartly accused Gloria of absentee motherism, late to bed and late to rise, traipsing out for dinner, often missing lunch with the children because she "makes morning visits to her psychiatrist and returns home to bed."

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