Her qualifications for the secretarial job on the Washington staff of Maryland's Senator-elect Joseph Tydings, 36, were pretty impressive. She was an ultraloyal Democrat who had worked seven days a week for Tydings during the election campaign, could type 90 words a minute, take dictation at the stopwatch speed of 100 words per, and seemed a cinch for the job. But a girl can't have everything. It came out that leggy, blonde Mary Ellen Terziu, 23, also moonlighted her nights away as a bunny at the Baltimore Playboy Club. Up went the chances of the 200 other applicants for the job, and down went Mary Ellen's. To make her Christmas unforgettable, her Playboss fired her for having "political affiliations." Oh, Tydings of comfort and joy.

"Making 70 is no time for congratulations," boomed Australia's Prime Minister Sir Robert Menzies as he celebrated his threescore and ten last week. "It's the end of the road, and nobody will be very excited if I live to be 71." But the acid old statesman with the snow-white mane and beetling black brows did seem to be mellowing after 16 years as Down Under's chief of state. He surprised newsmen with a rare birthday interview, chatted breezily for half an hour, even posed for cameramen before shooing them away with word that on doctor's orders he will take the month of January off for a vacation "on the bosom of the deep-where there are no telephones, no interviews and no speeches."

"Hi," beamed the pretty young thing, "I'm Mowena Glunch." Well, she wasn't, of course. She was Inez Chapin Mutton, 18, and she was one of 98 white-gowned young ladies being presented to society at the Debutante Cotillion and Christmas Ball at Manhattan's WaldorfAstoria. The very In thing this year was to introduce yourself to the postdebs and Ivy Leaguers trudging down the reception line as another girl entirely, so everybody had the most awful time sorting out Elizabeth Funston, 18, Virginia Guest, 18, Jocelyn Kress, 18, and Fernanda Kellogg, 18. But then the ritual began as always with the Coming Out Waltz, followed by the Garland Dance, the Polka Sleigh Ride and the Christmas Star, in which the gals kneel in the dark, hold candles and sing carols. Meyer Davis' band struck up Every thing's Coming Up Roses, swung into rock 'n' roll for the watusi, frug and monkey lovers. And before anybody realized it, it was 3 a.m. -and Good Night, Ladies.

Had he chosen law, his famous father could have greased the ways a little. But Thomas E. Dewey Jr., 32, wanted to make it himself in finance. Make it he did. A vice president of Wall Street Investment Banker Kuhn Loeb & Co. at 31, he has now been elected one of the youngest general partners in the firm's 97-year history. All this after his Princeton graduating class (1954) made him its second choice for "least likely to succeed."

"Well, it's Sunday, and what else can you do on a Sunday in New York?" asked Ethel Kennedy, 35, as she whirled round Manhattan's Rockefeller Center ice-skating rink with the Senator-elect and five (Michael, 6; Courtney, 8; Kathleen, 13; David, 9; Joe, 12) of their eight children. What else, indeed?

Since Mrs. Kennedy expects a ninth ad dition in a few weeks, obstetricians thought she would have been wiser to watch the slipping and sliding from a safe distance. "No intelligent person would walk in front of a truck," barked one doctor. Besides, said another, "I've had a flood of calls from patients asking if Ethel can do it, why can't I?" The eight-week crash course at the University of Michigan's English Language Institute is designed for foreign undergraduates fresh off the boat. Next term's enrollment includes 100 students from a dozen countries, and one from Dallas: Marina Oswald, 23. Says the Rev. Ernest T. Campbell, whose First Presbyterian Church is sponsoring Marina's trip to Ann Arbor: "We'd like awfully much for Mrs. Oswald to come here as a student without undue fanfare."

. . .

Out of work at 64, New York's ex-Senator Kenneth B. Keating was in no hurry to find another job. One report had him going to Hollywood as an actor. Another figured him a shoo-in for Commissioner of Baseball. Actually, said Keating, he would probably practice law. In the meantime, though, he was busy closing up his Washington office and planning a vacation trip to the Virgin Islands. The staff of Senator Jacob Javits gave him a going-away party, came up with still another suggestion-;to the tune of Jingle Belts:

Oh! Kenneth B., Kenneth B., smiling Kenneth B.

We think that justice will be done

With you as Attorney G.

LUCI HEADING FOR WHITE HOUSE

WEDDING, headlined the movie magazine. "Trash," retorted Luci Baines Johnson, 17, but then up she popped wearing the college pin of Paul Betz, 20, a pre-med junior at Mount St. Mary's in Emmitsburg, Md., who spent Christmas at the LBJ Ranch. "If Paul says anything," said Luci, "they'll call him a big opportunist. If I say anything, they'll say I'm running the show." So they said nothing, together.

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