Marriage Revealed. Claude Rains, 70, veteran British-born actor; and Rosemary McGroarty Clark, 42, a ghostwriter currently working on Rains's autobiography; he for the sixth time, she for the third; fortnight ago in a place the couple coyly declined to disclose.

Died. Oscar Hammerstein II, 65, longtime lyricist laureate of Broadway: of cancer; in Doylestown, Pa. (see SHOW BUSINESS).

Died. John Francis Cardinal O'Hara, 72, one of six U.S. cardinals, president of the University of Notre Dame (his alma mater) from 1934 to 1940, administrator of the U.S. Armed Forces' Catholic chaplains during World War II, and since 1952 the unassuming Archbishop of Philadelphia, who often answered his own doorbell ("How else can I meet the poor?"); following surgery; in Philadelphia.

Died. David Barnard Steinman, 73, civil engineer who designed more than 400 bridges in 21 nations in what he called "a one-man campaign for beauty in bridges'"; of a stroke; in Manhattan. The Brooklyn Bridge, the "truly miracle bridge" under which he played as a boy, inspired Steinman, a Russian-Polish immigrant's son, to the career whose works include New York City's Henry Hudson, Canada's Thousand Islands, and Michigan's five-mile Mackinac Bridge, the longest suspension bridge in the world.

Died. Dr. Herman Niels Bundesen, 78, president of Chicago's Board of Health for 29 years, a widely read writer on baby care; of cancer; in Chicago. A tireless fighter against epidemic, Bundesen once said, with his usual blunt sense: "I'm obnoxious and noisy, but Chicago has the best damn health record in the world."

He also claimed, following such publicity stunts as writing "K.O. V.D." in the sky, that Chicago was "the safest place in the world today to have intercourse."

Died. Ernest Boyd MacNaughton, 79, president of the Portland, Ore. First National Bank from 1932 to 1947 and its board chairman ever since, who was moderator of the American Unitarian Associa tion from 1950 to 1952, president of the Oregonian Publishing Company from

1947 to 1950 and of Reed College from

1948 to 1952; of cancer; in Portland. Of all his multiple interests, the indefatigable MacNaughton most relished his unpaid post at endowment-dwindling Reed. Ending about every extravagance except the famed twelve-man classes ("We don't want to water down our professors with students"), the blustery Scot, a self-styled "Republican with a move on," badgered his conservative friends into unprecedented contributions to what they had long considered "those Reed pinkos," put the college in the black for the first time in years.

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