Born. To Elliott Gould, 33, Hollywood anti-hero and ex-spouse of Barbra Streisand; and Jenny Bogart, 19, his girl friend; their first child, a girl; in Manhattan. Name: Molly.

Died. Bill Stern, 64, the sportscaster whose fanciful anecdotes ("And that little Italian boy with the baseball bat is now the Pope") earned him the nickname "Aesop of the Airways"; of a heart attack; in Rye, N.Y. A 1935 auto accident cost him a leg and made him a "legal" morphine addict for nearly 20 years, but Stern climbed to the top in radio and then TV sports coverage. His career crumbled when he suffered a nervous breakdown on the air while broadcasting the 1956 Sugar Bowl game for ABC-TV. He then kicked drugs and made a comeback in 1959. Recently, he narrated sports shows for the Mutual Broadcasting System.

Died. Colonel Rudolf Abel, 68, head of a Soviet spy network in the U.S. between 1948 and 1957; of lung cancer; in Moscow. Though he was later to deny that espionage consists of "riproaring adventures [or] a string of tricks," Abel had his share of both. He was an accomplished linguist and a radio technician who posed as a photographer and amateur artist while leading his double life in Brooklyn. There he rented a $35-a-month studio near the federal courthouse. Like fictional spies, Abel used a variety of arcane items: hollow bolts and coins to carry messages, phony documents, cipher books. In 1953 one of his hollow nickels containing microfilm found its way into the hands of a newsboy, who gave the coin to the police. But FBI agents did not bag Abel until four years later, when an underling defected and turned him in. He admitted only that he had entered the U.S. illegally, but he was convicted and sentenced to 30 years. Four years later he was exchanged for U-2 Pilot Francis Gary Powers. Though most spies retire in anonymity, Abel received public honors.

Died. Yehuda Leib Levin, 77, chief rabbi of Moscow's Central Synagogue since 1957 and unofficial spokesman for 3,000,000 Soviet Jews; of pneumonia; in Moscow. The white-bearded patriarch admitted that Jews in the Soviet Union suffer from the restrictions of "an atheistic culture." Like many religious leaders in Communist countries, however, he found it necessary to conciliate the regime. He took an anti-Zionist line and observed, accurately enough, during a U.S. visit in 1968: "There have been no pogroms."

Died. Dame Gladys Cooper, 82, exemplar of British dignity on stage and screen; of pneumonia; in Henley-on-Thames, England. A beautiful chorine who became World War I's foremost pinup girl by shamelessly exposing her ankles, Dame Gladys early turned to the legitimate stage. After achieving stardom in The Second Mrs. Tanqueray in 1922, she managed London's Playhouse Theater. Planning to spend three weeks in Hollywood making Alfred Hitchcock's 1940 melodrama Rebecca, she remained for nearly three decades, playing in such movie classics as Now, Voyager and Separate Tables. Then she became the matriarch of a mob of high-class swindlers on the NBC comedy series The Rogues, cultivating yet another generation of fans during the mid-'60s. Her lifelong interest in the theater was reflected in her recent letter to TIME damning the play Jesus Christ Superstar: "Is there no Christianity left, no morals, no standards, no faith?"

Died. Charlie Dale, 90, deadpan half of Smith and Dale, longest-running comedy act in show business; in Teaneck, N.J. Joe Smith, now 87, and Charlie Dale met in 1898, when their bicycles collided on Manhattan's Lower East Side. A bystander who watched the ensuing argument compared them to the vaudeville team of Weber and Fields, and the two teen-agers took the comment seriously enough to begin working together as amateurs. They became headliners even before the Palace Theater was built in 1913. Even through TV appearances in the '60s, their low-comedy routine was remarkably unchanging:

Dale: How are things with you?

Smith: How should they be?

Dale: I'm glad to hear it.

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