While posing for photographers in Chiswick, England, the happy couple gazed fondly down on their newborn son Carlo. But the mother, Actress Vanessa Redgrave, made it clear that there was one thing the future did not include: her marriage to the boy's father, Italian Actor Franco Nero. The free-spirited star of The Loves of Isadora had said, when she announced her pregnancy in April, that she had no plans to marry Nero ("I don't think marriage would make me a very nice person to live with"). Carlo's birth has made Vanessa no less adamant. "I doubt very much if we will get married," she said last week.

They threw stones at Nixon and spat at Rockefeller, but the huge crowds that turned out for the touring Apollo 11 astronauts in Latin America last week demonstrated unrestrained adoration. In Mexico City, Bogota, Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro, women and children crowded into the streets simply to touch Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Mike Collins, or to tear off pieces of their clothing as souvenirs. "You are supermen," said an Argentine admirer in broken English as he shook Armstrong's outstretched hand. "No," answered Armstrong in Spanish, "we are common men."

In his years as a TV star, he kept the censors working overtime, cutting out his gamy wisecracks. Now just past his 74th birthday, Groucho Marx is still demonstrating an undiminished capacity for the leering remark. "Would you pull your skirt down?" he asked a coed at a college film seminar in Los Angeles. "It's very distracting, even at my age." Then Groucho called the students' attention to a scene in his 1935 movie A Night At the Opera. As con man Otis B. Driftwood, he was carrying Margaret Dumont's luggage up a gangplank. "Have you got everything, Otis?" she asked. "I haven't had any complaints yet," he boasted. "That line," said Groucho, with obvious pride, "was cut out of the movie in virtually every state in the Union."

White Hunter Patrick Hemingway of Kenya, visiting the Soviet Union for the Ninth International Congress of Game Management, was astonished to find that his name made him the center of attention. "I never thought my father was so popular in Russia," Patrick said, as reporters and their interpreters queued up. "I'd like to know whether it was because of his talent as a writer or his human qualities." Young Hemingway, whose motto is "to shoot, to write, and to tell the truth," was taken hunting by his hosts, and missed a long shot at a big elk. But the Russians found Patrick's literary tastes right on target. Though he reads and enjoys his father's works (his favorites: Green Hills of Africa and The Snows of Kilimanjaro), he confessed that his favorite writer is Turgenev.

As photographers focused their cameras on the monstrous bulge above his boxing trunks, ex-Heavyweight Champion Ingemar Johansson shook his head ruefully and admitted that "118 kilos [259.6 lbs., on a 6-ft. frame] is not precisely fighting weight." Still, reporters had vivid memories of the "toonder and lightning" right hand that flattened Floyd Patterson in 1959, and they suppressed their laughter when Ingo, 37, announced that he may try a comeback. Addicted to the good life even in his prime, and a problem drinker in the years since, he claims that he has now given up smorgasbord and women--he was recently divorced from his wife --and is back in rigorous training. "Three training bouts to shake off the rust," said Ingo, "and I wouldn't be afraid to meet the world's champion."

"It's been a rather shaking night," the soprano quipped after singing the third act of La Boheme under somewhat unusual circumstances. First there was that rumbling noise backstage at the San Francisco Opera House. "I looked around, thinking maybe they had turned on the wind machine," Dorothy Kirsten recalled. "I was sort of dizzy and the floor was shaking. I was so engrossed, I didn't know what was happening." What was happening was a strong earthquake--5.6 on the Richter scale--the bay area's biggest jolt in twelve years. A few of the less courageous and persevering opera devotees headed for the exits, but most stayed on to hear the diva finish with the phrase addio senza rancore (goodbye without regret). "We never missed a note," said Dorothy proudly, "but I kept thinking about those last words in the aria."

Beset as they are by snarled traffic and chaotic driving conditions, the citizens of Rome could scarcely believe the words uttered at Leonardo da Vinci Airport by the visiting dignitary. "The U.S. hopes to be able to benefit," said U.S. Secretary of Transportation John A. Volpe, "from Italy's well-known achievements in the field of transportation, and to cooperate in attacking the problems of rapid urban transportation." In Italy to call on the Pope and to visit his parents' birthplace at Pescara, Volpe had an embarrassing admission to make when he turned up half an hour late for a subsequent briefing session with reporters. He had been caught in a Roman traffic jam.

Testifying before a House Post Office subcommittee in Washington, the silver-maned Senator urged a crackdown on the "smut peddlers" who send pornography through the mails to children. Despite "wishy-washy" court definitions of obscenity, said Barry Goldwater, "As a father and a grandfather, I know, by golly, what is obscene and what isn't." That same evening the Senator effectively dispelled any notions that he might be a prude. At a National Aviation Club reception in his honor, Pilot Goldwater fondly recalled his recent 2,100-m.p.h. flight at the controls of Lockheed's superjet, the SR-71. "I like airplanes and aviation," he said. "They're like sex, and I'll be after them as long as I can."

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