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

Adlai Stevenson, at the final turn of his world tour, put down in London for two weeks of sightseeing, partygoing, talks with high officials, and quiet days of writing in the English countryside. In rented morning dress ($5.88) and topper ($1.12), Stevenson bustled off to a Buckingham Palace garden party, met Queen Elizabeth II, the Duke of Edinburgh and Princess Margaret, with whom he had a "delightful conversation." An enthusiastic patter of applause came from the British press, including a left-handed compliment from the Manchester Guardian that he was not at all like the movie-type American. "His tie is quiet, his aspect unhurried ... He speaks without an aggressively American accent."

A 144-ft. transmitting tower put up on his Leesburg, Va. farm just behind the chicken coop, this week returned to the radio & television faithful the freckled face and barefoot voice of Arthur Godfrey, in the pink, but still on crutches after his celebrated Boston hip operation.

In Honolulu, sometime Violinist Jack (Love in Bloom) Benny got together after 45 years with his old violin teacher, retired Yale Professor Hugo Kortschak, who remembered him as 14-year-old Benny Kubelsky at the Chicago Musical College. "My, how you've grown," said the professor. Benny, a grown-up 59, recalled that he "was crazy to be a concert violinist. But I'm like most golfers--I like to play, but I never practiced." After the chat, the professor remarked on the pity of it all: "He probably would have gone far. He showed a lot of promise."

Facing an inheritance-tax bite of an estimated $750,000 to $1,000,000 on his late wife's estate, Bing Crosby bowed out of racing to raise some hard cash. Of his 65 race horses put up for auction in Hollywood, 58 were sold in two days for $85,000, which Crosby will split with his partner, Sportsman Lin Howard. Under California's community property law, Mrs Crosby owned half of Bing's vast holdings (oil, real estate, frozen juice), putting him in the position of paying federal and state inheritance taxes on property he had piled up himself. At his Nevada ranch, Bing shrugged, "Taxes are taxes."

Nearing the end of a three-month globe-trot, Eleanor Roosevelt, 68, spent a weekend with Yugoslavia's Marshal Tito, 61, at his summer retreat on the Adriatic, later told how fine it was that Yugoslavia had "so young-feeling a man" as its leader. "His sort of whimsy and youth is a fortunate thing for the nation."

In a pep talk to greeting-card artists in Kansas City, Mo., Magazine Illustrator Norman Rockwell bared his soul: "I'm not the inspired type of artist who can't sleep and eat for thoughts of his work. I've never missed a meal yet. I sleep and eat and still get inspired."

In Madrid, Spanish Concert Guitarist Andres Segovia, 59, was rushed to the hospital for surgery after suffering a sudden detachment of the retina of his right eye. With his left eye also in danger, weeks will pass before Segovia's doctors can tell whether his eyesight will be saved. Before entering the operating room, Segovia asked for his guitar, closed his eyes, and played before a rapt audience of doctors and nurses. "Now I know I can go on playing even if I remain blind for the rest of my life," he said. "Let us go on."

When Tennis Star Maureen ("Little Mo") Connolly, 18, got a heroine's welcome at the San Diego railroad station after winning the U.S. clay courts tennis title in River Forest, Ill., photographers asked her to kiss her 21-year-old seagoing boy friend, Petty Officer Norman Brinker. Little Mo politely refused, gave him a warm hug and a smile instead. But things were different at home. A cameraman followed her out to the stable, snapped her in a reunion with Colonel Merryboy, a seven-year-old roan presented to her last year by admiring citizens of San Diego.

Lucius Beebe, the dandy who swapped Manhattan's upholstered saloons last year for the publisher's desk on Nevada's Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, sang the praises of the rugged Nevada life to Columnist Leonard Lyons, but admitted that he still had a dude's taste for comfort. His bathroom contains, among other things, "my private barber chair, a reading rack of periodicals, phone extension, four slot machines, a crystal chandelier and a cuckoo clock . . ."

For the benefit of Washington's women about town, Newshen Ruth Montgomery of the New York Daily News whipped up a little list of the capital's most eligible bachelors, tossed in some helpful hints on their personal qualifications. Speaker of the House Joe Martin: "Public Enemy No. 1, as far as Cupid is concerned . . . This engaging male is 68, dimpled, dark-haired and modest . . . has a shy sweetness ..." House Minority Leader Sam Rayburn (71): "Baldheaded, short and a little pudgy, but he's a blue-ribbon darling in anybody's date book . . . Footloose and fancy-free." Georgia Senator Dick Russell (55): "At the very mention of his name, Washington widows heave and sigh . . . The darling of the Southland, has just about everything. He's gallant, handsome, debonair, wise and charming." Rhode Island Senator Theodore Green: "If it's money you're after . . . he's Mr. Moneybags himself. But don't expect this 85-year-old tennis player to lavish his wealth on a mere woman. Rumor has it that when the Senator used to take his rich constituent, Mrs. Perle Mesta, out on the town, he called for her by streetcar." Wisconsin Senator Joe McCarthy (43): "The rough-and-ready type . . . He's eagerly sought after by right-wing Republican dowagers . . . Joe may need a little breaking-in, however . . . We know a lady interior decorator who quit her job for a millionaire Representative because every time she called on the client at his swank Foxhall Road estate, Joe was slouched on the davenport with feet on a priceless antique coffee table."

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