By Guy D. Garcia

He was expelled from Argentina in 1979 after the right-wing military regime had him imprisoned and tortured, without ever bothering to accuse him of a crime. But last week Jacobo Timerman, 61, who has since become an Israeli citizen, returned to Argentina for a firsthand look at life under the newly elected civilian government of Raul Alfonsin. His return, he explains, is for two reasons: to recover his newspaper La Opinion, which was confiscated and later auctioned off by the military junta, and to seek justice against his torturers. Timerman, who recorded his ordeal in Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number, has not decided whether he will--or can--reopen his paper (he says he likes writing books), but if he does, it sounds as if the editor will be progovernment. "I am really impressed with the new President," he says. "I am not used to so much democracy."

Ten years ago, Don Everly put down his guitar at a California concert and walked off the stage, thus ending on a sour note the stormy partnership with his brother that had spawned such hits as Bye Bye Love, Wake Up Little Susie and Cathy's Clown. While they went their separate ways during the 1970s, neither went very far as a solo performer. Now Don, 46, and Phil, 44, have put aside their differences, and last September the Everlys gave a reunion concert in London, which will be broadcast this week on HBO. "Phil and I are getting along now," says Don. "It will be interesting to see where this takes us." They plan a new album this spring and possibly a tour. And while the singing siblings are not the baby-faced boys they once were, their rocking harmonies remain everly sweet.

Their grand jete from the Bolshoi Ballet to freedom in 1979 landed Valentina and Leonid Kozlov in the charmed troupe of Soviet dance defectors that includes Rudolf Nureyev, Natalia Makarova and Mikhail Baryshnikov. Now the couple, who have dazzled audiences with their performances at the New York City Ballet, are making yet another artistic leap, from terpsichorean classics to a Broadway revival, Rodgers and Hart's On Your Toes. Actually, the couple have already done seven weeks in the show while it was being readied in Washington, B.C., and Seattle. Their Broadway run will be only two weeks, filling in for the vacationing regulars in the roles of the Russian ballerina and her dance partner. All this bouncing about seems very American, which Valentina, 29, takes to enthusiastically. "It's so fast," she says. "Maybe it's crazy, but it's life." For his part, Leonid, 36, has noted one happy difference about Broadway: "In the theater, people are applauding all the time. In ballet, they applaud at the end."

His rhinestone-and sequin-soaked suits have left audiences gasping while he excuses himself to "change into something a little more spectacular." But no one has managed to turn excess into success like Liberace, 64, who still reigns as the glitter king of the big-bucks show-biz circuit. To be sure, he still faces the unresolved "palimony" suit filed against him by his former chauffeur-bodyguard Scott Thorson, 24. But nothing is dampening the celebration of his 40th year in show business. For the first time he is taking his Las Vegas show--sets and kaboodle--on the road in April to New York's Radio City Music Hall, where he will be joined but never upstaged by the Rockettes. "The Music Hall is a temple to entertainment," he says. True to form, Liberace is planning to put on the dog--and just about every other animal with a furry pelt. The topper: a 12-ft. by 16-ft., 175-lb. Norwegian blue shadow fox coat priced at a hair-raising $300,000.