Virginia Polytechnic Institute Freshman Gardner Britt, 18, must have been playing football without his helmet. An article in the January Ladies' Home Journal implied that he was more or less engaged to President Ford's daughter Susan, 17--not that she was so special. "I don't think she will do anything spectacular," he opined, suggesting that Susan herself was antifeminist. "She's not like some of those Miss Teenage Americas who always have some fancy career in mind--like nursing." Added Chauvinist Britt: "A job is all right if women can do an equal job, but I don't think they can." Too bad, Gardner. Susan's abilities may be more equal than he thinks. Miffed, she is now playing the field and has gone public with their disagreement. Under her own byline in the March issue of Seventeen, Susan says: "I think a woman can do as good a job as a man. It all depends on the job and the person." Susan still dates Gardner; the other day he came around and played with her dog, Liberty.

"I want to be a blockbuster like Marilyn Monroe," piped Genevieve Waite, 26. So her husband and co-founder of the Mamas and Papas John Phillips, 38, tailored his long-planned musical Man On the Moon to her talents. She plays an angel on a planet invaded by an errant moonship. Genevieve, still puzzling over her characterization, changes her wardrobe frequently and is not above trying to pinch Co-Star Monique Van Vooren's best songs as well as all the attention. "Genevieve," marveled an onlooker, "has an almost perfect working relationship with the spotlight." She has had a hand in other facets of the show too. It was she and John who thought of casting Old Friend Mark Lawhead, well under 5 ft., as a robot. "He's for the people from Rhode Island," she said. The show is not scheduled to open on Broadway until the end of the month, but Genevieve is already plotting her entrance at the opening-night party. "I think I'll wear white, with a long ermine boa and diamonds."

What senior cinema buff could forget the raspy voice and menacing non-presence of Claude Rains in the 1933 movie of H.G. Wells' The Invisible Manl Perhaps the only movie ever made in which the star's face is shown only once, and then when he is dead, The Invisible Man made Rains' ghastly reputation. Now David McCallum, one of TV's men from UNCLE of a decade ago, has taken over the role in a made-for-TV movie to be aired on March 11. Wells' fantasy of a chemist made invisible, then driven mad by his own invention has been updated. "The military industrial complex wants to get hold of my formula for becoming invisible," explains McCallum. Jokes on the set never run out. "The prop man keeps changing the name on my chair. First it said Claude Rains, then Unknown, and now it says Shadow."

It really was a case of lese-majeste.

There was newly inaugurated Connecticut Governor Ella Grasso off in Washington to tape a talk show, while her home in Windsor Locks, an industrial town, was being robbed. Thieves broke into Mrs. Grasso's six-room house and stole her mother's engagement ring, her own engagement ring, silver and watches "Now I'm a statistic, and I'm as angry and outraged as any other householder," was Ella's reaction. Still, she rejected a proposal for a fence. Said the Governor philosophically: "I don't like fences. They keep the people out, but intruders always seem to find a way."

Is this any way to treat the future King of England? A color sergeant barked the orders, and the Prince of Wales obediently risked his neck by wriggling through a half-submerged pipe, swinging across chasms, scaling climbing nets and wading through the icy waters of Devon Marsh. It was revealed last week that in November

Charles had endured another grueling trial in Her Majesty's Service, this time a taste of commando assault training, the Tarzan and ropes course. "He doesn't lack for fitness," allowed a Royal Marines' spokesman. Prince Charles must have blanched, however, when commanded to negotiate a 20-ft. high tree-to-tree ropewalk. The whole adventure was clearly one he would just as soon never try again. Said he: "A most horrifying expedition."

She was as lovely as a thoroughbred or a racing shell. The acrid Manhattan air filled her nostrils and traveled down her gut until she was infused with gritty candor. "I guess I come off looking like a lightweight," said Model Margaux Hemingway, 19, implausibly, and turned to display a 6-ft. frame. Four months ago, Ernest Hemingway's granddaughter left the family's split-level in Ketchurn, Idaho. One night when she was feeling good and funny and true, she revealed that she had been conceived after her parents had put away a bottle of Chateau Margaux, the kind of wine that has rested in cool cellars and must be drunk with reverence. "Tons of things are happening to me now," says Margaux. She has a boy friend, Hamburger King Errol Wetson, 33, who is "the best." She adds: "I guess it's inevitable that I will get into movies." Perhaps a western, in which "everyone will be women--even the Indians." Margaux's elder sister Joan, 24, is more traditional. Co-author of the 1974 thriller Rosebud, a trendy caper of international kidnaping that has already been made into a movie, she is now working on a gourmet picnic cookbook. But Margaux's fame may soon surpass Joan's. "I'm into singing now," says Margaux. What kind? A nightclub repertory of "rich, happy blues."

"It's a nice little house," said Happy Rockefeller politely. She was surveying her new home, the official vice-presidential residence. A turreted 21-room Victorian whimsy looming above Washington's Embassy Row, Admiral's House was formerly the home of the Chief of Naval Operations. Its last occupant, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt Jr., complained that the roof leaked. But although it could hardly compare to the splendors of the Rockefellers' Manhattan duplex, their Pocantico Hills estate, their Venezuela ranch or their Foxhall Road mansion, Happy looked on the bright side. "It can be used for intimate entertaining," she said, as she and her architect toured the house to plan its redecoration. Will Nelson's Picassos and avant-garde works of art adorn the new place? Said Happy: "That's a question you should ask Nelson. He has some nice American prints. You know, Washington Crossing the Delaware, Currier and Ives." Then she revealed that her sons Nelson, 10, and Mark, 7, had already staked out their territory. "They were captivated by the round turret room."

There must be one or more nervous doctors at U.C.L.A. Medical Center. Recently Alfred Hitchcock, 75, checked in to have a pacemaker implanted. All went well until Hitch was given an antibiotic to which he was allergic. Stuck in the hospital for an extra ten days, the lugubrious film maker appeared before a U.C.L.A. investigatory panel and asked who had prescribed the drug. "There was a deafening silence," he said. Hitch had another grouse: "I bruise easily. Now I'm bruised all across my chest. It looks like the pacemaker was put in with a baseball bat." But Hitchcock, who starts filming his 53rd movie in March, is delighted with the pacemaker itself. "It runs for four years and if I'm in Paris and want to check it out, I just dial the hospital and hold the receiver to my chest."

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