Minus his mountaineering equipment, Britain's Sir John Hunt, leader of the expedition in which Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Guide Tenzing climbed Mount Everest in 1955, popped up at a boys' school in Nottinghamshire, was prepared to answer almost all questions except one: "What did Sir Edmund say after conquering Everest?" Brows knit, Sir John at length blurted: "He said, 'We've knocked the bastard off!' ''

By decree of the District of Columbia, the capital officially celebrated Dwight Eisenhower's 70th birthday, marking him as the first President ever to reach that age in office. After a morning serenade by an Army band, Old Soldier Eisenhower at noon stepped out on the White House lawn, crowded with some 6,000 well-wishers who chorused Happy Birthday, as Mamie watched from a balcony. Some of his admirers presented him with a golf ball and tees, done up in a box inscribed to the "World's Greatest Golfer."

Back in New York City after a ten-year Mexican sojourn, William O'Dwyer, 70, the fun-loving Irishman who became New York City's mayor, was home for good in the "one hell of a city" that he loves. U.S. Ambassador to Mexico during his first two years south of the border, Bill O'Dwyer quietly left Mexico City last May, came to Manhattan and got himself a Park Avenue apartment. It gradually dawned on New Yorkers that "Billo" had returned to stay. Immensely popular among Mexicans, Lawyer O'Dwyer hopes to renew his old U.S. ties, some of which were rudely severed by the Kefauver crime committee in the 1951 hearings that propelled some of his old City Hall cronies to jail for long terms. Ex-Expatriate O'Dwyer remains a partner in a U.S.-Mexican law firm, hopes to set up a public-relations outfit and plunge into some U.S.-Latin American business ventures.

Not the least of the linguistic assets that Jack Kennedy has going for him is Polish-born Prince Radziwill, husband of Jacqueline Kennedy's chic younger sister Lee, 27. In London last week, multilingual Princess Radziwill was getting set to join the prince in the U.S. and help in the campaign. The prince was already busy stumping in Polish hustings about the U.S. "He enjoys it very much," the princess told British newsmen. "And it is quite all right for him to campaign, although he is a British citizen." She had no comment on a whimsical report that if Brother-in-Law Kennedy gets the big job, she, the prince and Jackie Kennedy (who speaks five languages) will take over all the talking for the U.S.-broadcast Voice of America.

After serving a three-month stretch this year for contempt of a federal court, Boston Industrialist Bernard Goldfine, 70, onetime largesse-dripping crony of ex-Presidential Aide Sherman Adams, was to have stood trial for dodging $791,745 in federal income taxes during 1952-57. But last week three court-appointed psychiatrists reported their unanimous diagnosis: Goldfine suffers from a manic-depressive psychosis, has strong suicidal tendencies. The court called off the trial, ordered Goldfine committed to a hospital for treatment. In a parallel case, onetime Federal

Communications Commissioner Richard A. Mack, 51, who quit under fire in 1958, also got off the hook. Due to be tried again for conspiracy in rigging the FCC award of a TV channel in Miami (a first trial last year mired in a hung jury), Mack was examined by two court-appointed physicians last week. Their verdict: Mack is a bedridden alcoholic who has consumed from half a pint to a pint of whisky daily for years. The judge postponed the trial until such time as Mack can safely travel to a courtroom.

A plunging neckline is enough to start a riot in Rome, and this truth is not lost upon movie queens who respire to greater things. When the Olympic Games began last August, Elizabeth Taylor showed up in a decollete creation that momentarily paralyzed athletes and spectators alike. One who is well-equipped to compete with Liz, Siren Gina Lollobrigida, hove into view at the Roman movie premiere of Ben Hur, caused as big an eye goggling as the chariot race on the screen.

The son of a rural Michigan mail carrier, Postmaster General Arthur E. Summerfield, 61, blossomed as co-author of a book that he once wished he could lay hands upon: U.S. Mail: The Story of the United States Postal Service (Holt, Rinehart & Winston; $5). In Manhattan for an author's luncheon, Summerfield admitted that his favorite game is Post Office, proved that he is still an addressee at heart. Said he wryly: "It's difficult to explain why a piece of mail--a letter, a postcard--has not been delivered in due time. But often the delay is because it's been resting in the pocket of the man of the house for some time. This has happened to me--and I've been unable to explain it."

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