Grand opera's grand old man has been exercising his vocal cords only as a lecturer since his retirement in 1950. But when former Metropolitan Opera Tenor Giovanni Martinelli, 81, arrived in Seattle, the head of the Seattle Opera persuaded him to sing some of the old songs again, playing in Puccini's Turandot. In his younger days, Martinelli portrayed the swain Calaf, but now, costumed like a mandarin Lear, he sang the aged emperor. He was still in good voice, and the audience gave him two standing ovations. Was he satisfied with his performance? Of course not, said Martinelli. "As an artist, you are never satisfied."

There in the Hudson River off Manhattan lay the Queen Elizabeth, the world's biggest (at 83,673 tons) ocean liner. Not a tugboat was on hand to ease her 1,031-ft. length into her narrow slip at 52nd Street because the tugs' crews were on strike. What to do? In she goes, commanded Captain Geoffrey Thrippleton Marr, 57, and with infinite care, using hawsers and anchors and great good seamanship, he and his tars brought their gigantic vessel to dock all by themselves. So precise was his reckoning that the captain even noticed the tide was ebbing a few minutes early. "Rain upcountry, that sort of thing," he figured. It took almost 1 1/2 hours, but not an inch of paint was scraped. "Well done, sir!" called a first-class passenger. "Lovely day," said Captain Marr.

She first came into his viewfinder during the filming of A Lovely Summer Morning two years ago, and since then Spanish Cameraman Manuel Velasco, 23, has absolutely refused to let Actress Geraldine Chaplin, 22, out of his sight. It got so that even though she was dating other fellows, the gossips were insisting that soon there would be a Velasco on either side of the camera. Not so, said Charlie's daughter. "I have no intention of marrying until I'm 30 at least." That does seem a bit of a wait, but Manuel looked reasonably patient when the two got together at a party in Madrid, where Geraldine has bought an apartment and set to work in a new Spanish film.

The news, gasped Madrid's daily Pueblo, "has come like the explosion of a hydrogen bomb, like the alighting of 100,000 fiery angels." Or so it seemed to Spain's aficionados. The man who dropped the bomb, Bullfighter Manuel Benitez, 29, better known as El Cordobes, seemed unshakable in his decision. The night before, he explained, "I fell asleep, but suddenly at 3:20 in the morning I leaped out of bed ready to break the news. Providence told me to do this." So, after seven professional years that earned him some $7,000,000 plus 1,000 bull's ears and 600 tails, the world's best known--if not best--matador announced that he was retiring from the blood and sand. It may be a wise move, since his fame came not so much from his skill with the cape but from the insane chances he took--and next season Providence might be on the side of the bulls.

Workmen hauling a rare 11th century Cambodian statue from an elevator let it fall and broke its nose. Next, a thief slipped into the museum and made off with a 19th century Japanese scroll. Then an epidemic of "bronze disease" corrosion broke out twice among the priceless Buddhas. And what's worse, the roof leaked. All that was a bit much for Millionaire Builder Avery Brundage, 79, president of the international Olympic committee and one of the world's foremost collectors of Oriental art, who donated his $30 million hoard of treasures to the city of San Francisco for display in the M. H. de Young Museum. Having posted 20 letters complaining about the museum's treatment of his trove, Brundage finally fired off an ultimatum: "It is quite obvious that this project is too large for this museum, if not for the city of San Francisco itself." If they don't treat his artistic Golconda as he thinks it should be treated, he will take it elsewhere.

Dolefully surveying the wreckage of his second marriage, a five-year union with Elizabeth Taylor that Richard Burton put asunder somewhere in the second act of Cleopatra, Singer Eddie Fisher sounded resigned. "My inclination is to remain a bachelor," he said after his 1964 divorce. "I've struck out twice and I've learned." Now he's differently inclined. "I wasn't in love when I said that," he explained, "and I am now." In Manhattan, he slipped a five-carat diamond ring on the finger of Actress Connie Stevens, 28, Broadway's current Star-Spangled Girl, reported that they will be married as soon as Connie's divorce from Actor James Stacy comes through.

An intro from Auntie certainly didn't hurt. "She's absolutely charming, a perfectly natural performer," raved Actress Katharine Hepburn, 57. With that, she presented her niece, Katharine Houghton, 22, at a Hollywood press conference announcing that the lass would be teaming up with Aunt Kate to make a little satire called Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. And guess who introduced young Kath to Producer Stanley Kramer in the first place? Noting the family resemblance, Kramer cast the girl, whose previous experience included two TV shows and an ingenue's role in a Broadway flop, as Katharine Hepburn's daughter.

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