"Poor girl," clucked Movie Czar Jack Valenti after a champagne-party chat at the girl's $1,500,000 Appia Antica villa outside Rome. "She told me that for five years they've been having hardly anything to do with each other. It's a shame." Actress Gina Lollobrigida, 38, did her best to cover up her unhappiness by giving a blast for 80 movie types including Claudia Cardinale, in honor of Valenti, who is touring Europe for the first time as the new president of the Motion Picture Association of America. Gina and her husband of 17 years, Yugoslav-born Dr. Milko Skofic, a non-practicing physician long weary of being Mr. Lollo, had finally arranged for a legal separation. Eventually they will get a divorce, even though Gina might have to give up her citizenship in divorceless Italy.
As he flew into Johannesburg last June for a four-day visit frostily ignored by the South African government, New York's Senator Robert Kennedy told the welcoming crowd: "We shall not always agree." That was an understatement, at least as far as the apartheid policymakers were concerned. Last week there was absolutely no agreement when Bobby announced he plans to return next summer at the invitation of Johannesburg's South African Foundation, a private businessmen's group. "Nothing of the sort," snapped a foundation official. "We never invited Kennedy here, and we have no intention of doing so."
The three-piece wine-red velvet getup might have sold well in London's Carnaby Street. As it happened, the gear was up for grabs on more conservative New Bond Street, where Sotheby's was auctioning off a suit worn by King
George III in the days when he was taxing the shirt off his American colonies. A colonial very nearly got the threads back. Industrialist Jack Stallworth of Mobile, Ala., had a friend bid $500 for the wine-red number and three other 18th century outfits, only to have Lady Cecilia Howard, owner of Castle Howard in Yorkshire, outbid him by $18 for the King's old clothes.
When Supersalesman Matthew J. Culligan took over NBC radio in 1956, its operations were a staggering $3,000,000 in the red. Within three years, Joe Culligan had set the radio network to humming profitably along again. Later, as president of the beleaguered Curtis Publishing Co., his skill at troubleshooting misfired, and he was forced out after an executive-suite revolt. But, as he is fond of saying, "a comeback career seems to be my lot." Now he has gone back to radio, this time as president of the nation's biggest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System. Culligan wants to expand the system from 519 affiliated stations to 600. That, he suggested, "would be a happy little universe."
For the first time, it seemed, since the flood, there were real tears in the old battler's eyes, as a schoolgirl presented a bouquet of 80 roses on the parade route outside Jerusalem. Then his car inched slowly forward, as a crowd of some 50,000 gave a rousing birthday cheer to Israel's ex-Premier David Ben-Gurion. "I am only 20," B-G said wistfully. "Four times 20." Though most Israelis were feeling sentimental about their nation's grand old man, Premier Levi Eshkol was not. Having feuded with Ben-Gurion almost since the day he succeeded him in 1963, Eshkol pointedly boycotted the celebration at Jerusalem's Convention Center. B-G wasted no tears over that, however. "Eshkol should be fired," he snapped.
It was a rather basic theory of alienation, or so it seemed to Hungarian Poet Gyula Illyes, 63, at a convention of 200 European bards in Budapest. "The division of humanity characterizing our century began with a very prosaic object: the bathtub," proclaimed Illyes. "One part of humanity bathed and the other did not, and these two categories may not sleep in the same bed or eat at the same table." And things got worse, said the poet, when automobiles came along--"those monsters, those separators, little steel cages, the driver sealed in glacial indifference." Alas, the reasonably well-bathed poets listened and then drove off in little steel cages.
To start, she picked a nag named Hanassi at 8-1 odds, then Mattinata at 100-8, Cutle at 5-1, Bucktail at 9-4, and Damredub at 100-8. For the last race at England's Newbury track, the lady picked Blazing Sky at 7-2 to win the six-furlong Theale Maiden Stakes. Sure enough, Blazing Sky came breezing across to take it by four lengths. "Ah!" cried the Duchess of Norfolk, 50, wife of the realm's premier duke. "How I like Newbury!" Indeed, Newbury had been very kind to her. On a wager of 70-c-, her ladyship collected $7,804.34, the tote jackpot, by backing the winners in all six races.
No sooner had Secretary of State Dean Rusk canceled a November lecture at Cornell University because of "conflicts of schedule" than a Vietnik coed fired off a letter to the Cornell Daily Sun charging that the Secretary was plain afraid of all the antiwar pickets his appearance would attract. Cornell Sophomore Richard Rusk sent the Sun a sonly note of his own. "I can assure you that the reasons for his cancellation are legitimate," wrote Richard. "Being on more intimate terms with Mr. Rusk, I think it is possible that the Secretary might muster up his courage and run the gauntlet of Cornell's worst at some future date."
Midst laurels stood: Dutch Astronomer Jan Henrik Oort, 66, a pioneer in radio astronomy, honored with Columbia University's $25,000 Vetlesen Prize; Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare John W." Gardner, 54, Photographer Edward Steichen, 87, and Dr. W. A. Visser 't Hooft, general secretary of the World Council of Churches, all named for Family of Man awards for their contributions to humanity; Israel's patriarchal Man of Letters Shmuel Yosef Agnon, 78, and German-born Jewish Poetess Nelly Sachs, 74, a fragile lyricist who fled Hitler's Germany in 1940 to live in Sweden, named to share the 1966 Nobel Prize for literature. No peace prize was awarded.
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