Names make news. Last week these names made this news:

Back at work in his Kansas City office after his whirl in the East, Harry Truman found that he had failed to turn in his hotel keys, asked his secretary to "mail these back to the Waldorf-Astoria."

Adlal Stevenson found himself looking into the barrel of a Red policeman's Tommy gun after prowling about the ruins of Hitler's chancellery in East Berlin, was told, "You move, I shoot." ("Curiously," Stevenson later remarked, "I didn't move.") Because a member of Stevenson's party took pictures of him amid the rubble, they were held at gunpoint by seven policemen for half an hour while resisting a trip down to headquarters. The Communists, who did not know who Stevenson was, finally released the group after seizing the exposed film. Said Stevenson of the incident: "Fascinating."

In London, Author Adolf Hitler did poorly on the auction block. His personal copy of Mein Kampf, found in the German chancellery at war's end, was offered by Owner Arthur Hillman for bids of $11,200 and up. After four calls and no takers, the auctioneer announced: "We can't let it go for any less. It will be scratched."

Authorities blocked all ports and airfields in Egypt to stop Dancer Samia ("The Virgin of the Nile") Gamal from leaving the country before she ponies up Egyptian income taxes on the money she earned in the U.S. Reaction came swiftly from her real-estate-rich husband Sheppard ("Abdullah") King in Houston. "I knew they would nab her," he told reporters. "If she's not back by October, I'll fly over and lay siege to Egypt."

Cinemactress Marilyn Monroe gave a reporter a hint of what Hollywood glamor girls talk about between performances on the set. Sample noted during the shooting of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, in which she is starred with Jane Russell: "Jane, who is deeply religious, tried to convert me to her religion [she is actually nondenominational], and I tried to introduce her to Freud. Neither of us won."

In Los Angeles, Test Pilot William B. Bridgeman, who has flown faster (1,238 m.p.h.) and higher (79,494 ft.) than any other human, received the Octave Chanute Award for "outstanding contributions to the knowledge of supersonics."

General Matthew Ridgway, in a farewell chat with correspondents at Roquencourt near Paris before turning over his SHAPE command to General Alfred Gruenther, aired some philosophical thoughts. Driving to headquarters that morning, he had found the highway crammed with vacation-bound motorists bearing camp chairs and tennis rackets, and "it just sort of puts things in a little better perspective. This turnover of command this morning, which has a rather important place in my thinking and in General Gruenther's . . . really doesn't make much difference to the rest of the world--they're bound for a weekend devoted to the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness."

At the National Sports Car Races on the runways of Offutt Air Force Base at Omaha, photographers came upon General Curtis E. LeMay, chief of the Strategic Air Command, got him to pose in a flowery shirt and crash helmet behind the wheel of his souped-up Cadillac-Allard.

A weekend-tinkering sports-car enthusiast, LeMay let a professional driver bring in the Allard first in its class, ninth in the day's overall standings.

At a ballpark in Rome, U.S. Ambassador Clare Boothe Luce, executing probably the most ladylike toss in baseball history, kept comfortably seated as she threw out the first ball in an Italo-American game between a U.S. Navy nine and Rome's Lazio team. Winner: the Navy.

In Baltimore, Manhattan and London, reporters kept tabs on three distinguished patients: President Elpidio Quirino, 62, of the Philippines, who underwent a "completely satisfactory" 90-minute operation at Johns Hopkins Hospital for the removal of a benign stomach ulcer; Senator Robert Toft, 63, who checked into New York Hospital for an "exploratory operation" to determine the nature of his hip ailment, afterwards was reported cheerful and in good condition; and British Housing Minister Harold MacMillan, 59, whose progress was "well maintained" after the removal of his gall bladder.

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While Connecticut's Governor John Lodge, a Naval Reserve commander called to sea for a two-week refresher course, took part in Atlantic maneuvers aboard the light cruiser Roanoke, New Jersey's Governor Alfred Driscoll faced a navigation problem of another order: how to get his new, 14-foot, plastic runabout from New Brunswick, N.J. to his summer retreat at Lake Onawa, Me. Solution: recruiting sons Alfred, 16, and Peter. 13, as crewmen, hooking up an outboard motor, loading on sleeping bags and chocolate bars, and embarking on a 600-mile voyage by inland waterway and open sea.

For skimming a rented monoplane under 15 London bridges last May in his spectacular swan song to flying, Britain's World War I hero, "Mad Major" Christopher Draper, got off with a year's probation, $30 in court costs and a warning that he faced "severe treatment" if he tried anything like it again.

Photographer-Designer Cecil Beaton, a dabbler in watercolors. decided to go back to art school at 49, enrolled at London's Slade School of Fine Art. "I want to change my style," he explained, "and I want to learn to paint in oils."

Before starting back to her South Seas home, Queen Salote, the 6-ft. 3-in. monarch of Tonga, was asked to approve a Calypso song written by a British newsman in tribute to her hearty role in the coronation parade. She strummed it on her royal guitar, pronounced it good. U.S. Folk Singer Burl Ives gave it a premiere in Edinburgh. Excerpts: "And when the great procession departed/ This Queen so happy-hearted/ Said 'Let it rain and let it pour,/ Bring an open carriage and four.'/ And when the people saw her on that torrential morn,/ She captured all before her, took everyone by storm."

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