Michigan's Senator Philip A. Hart is

blessed with a wife who is an heiress of a Detroit manufacturing fortune, but Jane Briggs Hart is a far cry from the oldfashioned, self-effacing ideal of a politician's helpmate. A member of NOW (the National Organization of Women), she flies a plane, runs a stud farm and speaks her mind. "The Catholic Church is racist, and its position on birth control is ridiculous," she once told a reporter, though she is herself a Catholic and the mother of eight. Her opposition to the Viet Nam War landed her in jail during the 1969 Moratorium demonstrations, and now she has informed the Internal Revenue Service that she won't pay taxes; instead, she has deposited her quarterly estimated tax of $6,200 in a special bank account. "I cannot contribute one more dollar toward the purchase of more bombs and bullets," she wrote. The Democratic Senator says he supports his wife's ends but demurs on her undermining the "rational structure of government."

"Go away, you're all too young for me, and you don't let me get on with my business," said Greek Shipping Tycoon Aristotle Onassis, 66, to a clutch of newswomen in Teheran, as he arrived for some oil talks with the Shah. But Jacqueline Onassis, 42, doing her sightseeing and shopping thing, answered without hesitation when a woman reporter asked her if she is the same sort of person today as when she was married to President Kennedy. "I am today what I was yesterday and, with luck, will be tomorrow," she replied. "I am a woman above everything else. I have come to the conclusion that we must not expect too much from life. You cannot separate the good from the bad. Perhaps there is no need to."

No fan of Tiny Tim, the Lebanese songbird who built stardom on a flutter and a falsetto, will be surprised to learn that he gets knots in his hair because he never combs or brushes it. It is perhaps more surprising that swarthy Tiny is heavily into beauty products. "He'd buy crates and crates of skin cream, and he would spend hours using it," writes his recently alienated wife "Miss Vicki," 20, in the Ladies' Home Journal. Other peeps into the private life of Herbert B. Khaury: "He has a fetish about food.

He would order everything on the menu --every flavor of ice cream. The biggest influence in Tiny's life is his religion, which doesn't really have a name. It says somewhere in Tiny's Bible that man is master of the woman's life. To him, women aren't very smart." Despite these oppressive views, Miss Vicki's friends report that she and Baby Tulip have gone back to live with Tiny.

Sporting a Snoopy sweatshirt emblazoned I HATE LOSING and a cast on her ski-fractured leg, Ethel Kennedy welcomed 3,000 guests (admission $3) to her annual pet show at Hickory Hill for the benefit of Washington's Northwest Settlement House. A formidable range of fauna was entered, and most won prizes--the late Robert F. Kennedy's daughter Rory, 3, got one for the best-behaved fish. But with so many Kennedys in one place--including non-Candidate Teddy--physical as well as pet competition had to be included. Bobby's son Michael, 14, won on the obstacle course (1 min. 19 sec.), while his brother Joe, 19, fell over every hurdle and flopped spectacularly into a mud puddle. "Bobby Shriver could do it backward better than that," needled Eunice Shriver, who was the star of the Slide-for-Life sling--a survival rig of ropes and pulleys set up by the Green Berets.

When it comes to outdoor sculpture, Philadelphia is Fat City. A 1959 ordinance requires that 1% of the cost of all public buildings be devoted to sculptural adornment. Presently ready for casting in Milan is a 36-ft.-high bronze by Jacques Lipchitz called Government of the People, on which the city has already spent $122,500. But when Philadelphia's law-and-order Mayor Frank Rizzo heard that the casting and shipping would come to another $177,000, the news turned him into an instant art critic. "Government of the People," said Rizzo, "looks like some plasterer dropped a load of plaster. The art people are out to rape this city." But when art lovers began to ante up private contributions, Rizzo relented. If they pay for Government's bills, he said, "we'll find a spot for it."

The American Academy of Arts and Sciences has announced it will not award its $2,000 Emerson-Thoreau Medal this year. No reason was given, but one academician, M.I.T. Biologist Jerome Y. Lettvin, says that the group's literary committee recommended Ezra Pound, and that the governing council rejected him because of his anti-Semitic broadcasts for Italy during World War II. "Had you decided that Pound was an indifferent poet, and so deserved no prize," wrote Lettvin in his resignation, "then you would have no need to study his human failings. But you decided he was a good poet. And then you decided not to award him because you disapproved of the man but not his poetry. I will have no part of it."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.