Making his own crowd at the Seattle World's Fair, Kansas Rancher Glenn Cun ningham, 52, world's greatest miler in the 1930s, took in the sights with his wife, their nine children, and an orphan boy whom he is caring for at his Cedar Point spread. Cunningham ran 20 races in less than 4 min. 10 sec., a time that college milers beat regularly today, and the former Kansas flash saw no end to the improvement. "They'll get the time under 3:48," a full 6.4 sec. better than the current world mark, he said, and nominated one candidate for the feat: 14-year-old Glenn Jr. Said Glenn Sr.: "He can out run most of the high school kids in his home country right now." Ambling along East Side Manhattan, Visitor Harry S Truman allowed to re porters as how they are in error when they write a period after his middle initial.

The 5 is not an initial but a name, he insisted, and therefore a period is not required. However, he added with a grin, "there are some who put an a in front of it and add a second s." All that jazz was getting on Nikita's nerves, so Soviet officials started bugging Benny Goodman and his touring boys.

First they stopped an RCA recording crew and an NBC-TV team from taping a Black Sea blast in the resort of Sochi, then they banned the distribution of B.C. buttons, next they arrested a fan for fraternizing with foreigners ("We will be lucky if we see him again," mused a bystander), and finally they tried to bar Benny's ig-year-old daughter Rachel from going backstage, thinking she was one of the local cats. Said Good-Wilier Good man: "It shows a terrible weakness on their part, doesn't it?" Back from an eleven-day Far Eastern swing, Thomas J. Deegan Jr., 51, chair man of the $225 million New York World's Fair of 1964-65, had reason to gloat. Private groups in Britain, France, Italy, West Germany, Belgium and The Netherlands had just ordered space for exhibits. South Korea signed up, and so did Japan and Hong Kong. With those additions, the total number of nations that will be represented climbed to 66.

In the grand old tradition of kiss-and-sell, sultry Parisian Singer Juliette Greco, 35, let upwards of 10 million European readers in on the details of her four-year whirl with Cinemogul Darryl F. Zanuck, 59, who took her from cellar cafes to stardom in The Roots of Heaven. "What can a young woman see in an elderly tycoon with a toothbrush mustache, who smokes like a chimney, speaks through his nose and is perpetually angry?" asked Juliette in serialized memoirs in Paris Match and London's weekly People. The answer, said she, was that "I have always loved lost causes. He was like an orphan to me. I was attracted by that poor little rich man who was in some ways blind, deaf and dumb." The old Romeo's reply to sweet Juliette: a $20,000 damage suit for making him look "ridiculous."

If Vice President Lyndon Baines Johnson, 53, spoke like a father to the 62 white-gowned graduates of Washington's National Cathedral School for girls, it might have been because Daughter Lynda Bird, 18, was one of the chicks, "perched," as her daddy said, "to leave the nest." L.B.J. announced their future in nightingale tones. "Gone beyond recall, and beyond regret, is the old evil tradition which set a spacious destiny before men, and a shabby career before women," said he. "Some of you may live to see the day when the prejudice of sex will no longer place the presidency beyond the reach of a greatly gifted American lady. Long before then, I hope that you will see a woman member of the Supreme Court."

That full-page overexposure in Harper's Bazaar last winter showing Model Christina Paolozzi, 22, in nothing but mascara was ever so fashionable. But fashions change. And there last week was Christina at Fregene beach outside Rome. Same pose, same look. But all choked up in a new bikini.

After dinner at Leighton's Restaurant in Ardsley, N.Y., the customer ordered his white '61 Chevrolet convertible from the parking lot. It wasn't there. To the scene rushed Westchester parkway police, who noticed a look-alike '62 Chevy in the lot and figured somebody had gotten the wrong car. But who? The cops traced the leftover '62 to the Hertz rental company, were told that it had been checked out to a fellow named Henry Ford II. Yeah, sure, scoffed the troopers.

But sure enough, the Ford Motor Co. chairman, roused by a telephone call to his Manhattan apartment, confirmed that he had indeed rented a '62 Chevy. He likes to see how the competition runs, explained Ford blandly, and as a matter of fact, he had noticed a difference in the two Chevys. The one he arrived in had an empty ash tray. The one he left in had a full ash tray.

AWOL from the set of Something's Got to Give for 20 out of 32 working days, Marilyn Monroe pouted, "I feel lousy." Maybe so, retorted Fox officials, but the misery was of the money kind--a long-term commitment pegged her salary at a paltry $100,000 while others were knocking down twice as much. With MM's maladies expected to add another $1,000,000 to the film's $5,000,000 budget, the studio lost patience with its naughty girl, fired her for "repeated willful breaches of contract," sued her for $500,000 damages, and signed up baby-faced Lee Remick to go on with the show.

From their honeymoon yacht Eros, the couple hurried to the Vatican with the news. In a 40-minute audience, Spain's Prince Juan Carlos, 24, and former Greek Princess Sophie, 23, already looking ultra-Spanish in a flowing black silk gown and billowing mantilla, told a beaming Pope John XXIII of her conversion to Roman Catholicism. Sophie pledged her submission "to all the precepts of the Catholic Church," thus satisfied the Span ish monarchists who hope some day to see her husband rule the country. In high spirits, Sophie and Juan Carlos flew off to Madrid for a private luncheon with Generalissimo Franco, the only man with the power to restore the monarchy.

Just off the backstretch at New York's Belmont Park, 56 horses went on the auc tion block as the late Mrs. Isabel Dodge Sloane's Brookmeade Stable was dis persed. Over 37 years, the blunt auto heiress made $20 million breeding horses at her 850-acre farm in Upperville, Va., and racing them under Brookmeade's white silks and crossed blue sashes. In its last day at the track, Brookmeade was still a winner: the horses brought $1,000,300, including a record $75,000 for an unnamed yearling filly sired by the 1955 Kentucky Derby winner, Swaps.

Lifting a leaf from his younger brother's best-known book, Biologist Sir Julian Huxley, 74, offered a smashing suggestion to a London meeting of the Eugenics Society -- that enlightened husbands, in the interest of a brave new world, ought to let their wives undergo artificial insemination via "some admired donor." At first, conceded Sir Julian with elegant understatement, the idea would probably meet with "abuse" and "various legal difficulties. " But it would catch on: "The certain success of the experiment in the shape of outstanding and happy children would soon be decisive in inducing an increasing number of couples to adopt similar methods."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.