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

After dropping down to the Air Force University at Montgomery, Ala. to make a commencement speech, highhanded TV Impresario Arthur Godfrey made some less salutary remarks on a telecast. His target: Montgomery, the state's capital; it gets so hot there, said Godfrey, that folks would just curl up and die if they didn't have air conditioning. Its civic pride bruised, Montgomery's daily Advertiser promptly cracked back: "Before we comment on Arthur Godfrey's wicked attack . . . we want it clearly understood that we don't listen to the bum." Regretted the Advertiser: if only Godfrey had visited the city when the mercury topped 100DEG, Montgomerians could be "doubly sure that he won't be back." Quick to take umbrage at this affront was Alabama's mountainous (6 ft. 8 in., 248 Ibs.) Governor James E. ("Kissin' Jim") Folsom, who hates the Advertiser ("them lying newspapers") as much as it deplores him, reads no Alabama daily newspaper at all. To Godfrey from Kissin' Jim went a sympathetic letter of apology. Folsom just wanted Godfrey to know that he is "one of the greatest entertainers of all kinds," gave him an official hurry-back "at any time."

The Louvre's Museum of Decorative Arts honored Spanish-born Painter Pablo Picasso with a panoramic exhibition of his works, thus marked his 75th birthday and the 54th anniversary of his arrival in France. Picasso himself, waiting for the crowd to thin before going to his own show, holed up in his new Cannes villa with a mysterious new girl friend, fortyish, known as Madame Z. As a long line of limousines poured out specially invited guests on opening day, a grim little old lady, topped by a black straw hat cluttered with artificial flowers, showed up, herself looking like a 19th century period piece. She was none other than Alice B. Toklas, 79, longtime companion of Poetess Gertrude ("A rose is a rose is a rose") Stein. She soon headed for the famed portrait of Literary Lioness Stein that Picasso painted in 1906, gazed at it with a touch of blank sadness, moved on. Said Critic Toklas: "The show is excellent but rather short on blue-and-rose-period works."

Personal real estate transaction of the week: The Dunes, a 50-acre Long Island seashore estate, was bought by Auto Tycoon Henry Ford II (see NATIONAL AFFAIRS) from retired (66) Cinemactor Richard (Tol'able David) Barthelmess.

After a concert in Frankfurt, Maestro Leopold Stokowski, guest conductor of the symphony orchestra that ploys under the aegis of the Hessian radio station in West Germany, put on no airs as he graciously received the applause of his listeners. Main reason for his refraining from his customary theatricality: white-maned Conductor Stokowski, 73, also renowned as the estranged husband of Actress-Painter-Poetess Millionheiress Gloria Vanderbilt Stokowska, 31, had banned all pictures of the concert, was unaware that a camera had fixed its evil eye upon him.

At the eighth annual Democrat-Republican baseball game in Washington. New Jersey's rippling (350 Ibs.) Democratic Representative T. (for Thomas) James Tumulty frisked through some horseplay with his teammate and close congressional pal, California's James Roosevelt, leftfielder. Bellowed Tumulty: "When I get up, I'll have to hit a home run because I sure could never run out a hit to first base!" When one-inning Third Baseman Tumulty came to bat, a pinch runner was ready to do his legwork for him, but hurly-burly "T.J." hit only a short dribbler, was thrown out at first.* Helped by such feeble batting as Tumulty's. Roosevelt's strikeout, and five Democratic errors, the G.O.P., making only one error, forged ahead, crushed the Democrats in five innings, 1-2-4. It was the first Republican victory in the history of the congressional event.

A Hollywood TV film producer decided that high-spirited Actor John Barrymore Jr., 22, was acting too much like a chip off the late Great Profile, slapped a $55,-750 breach-of-contract suit on him for acting up while making a string of movies in England. The charges, similar to those made against Junior last August by a Connecticut summer theater: uncouth public squabbles with his wife Cara, insults to other actors, all-round misbehavior.

Architect Frank Lloyd Wright, long in the habit of addressing himself boldly to posterity, celebrated his 86th birthday by spouting pronouncements on everything from the skyscraper ("Ought to go out into the country . . . cast its shadow on its own ground") to the drift toward equalitarianism ("Going to be the death of democracy"). Then, with boyish glee, he burbled: "As for me, if I felt any better I couldn't stand it!"

Grounded for a month: Aviatrix Jacqueline Auriol, 37, daughter-in-law of France's ex-President Auriol and recent setter of the women's unofficial speed record (TIME, June 13). The grounds for her grounding were tersely set forth by a nettled official of Bretigny Air Center, where Jacqueline, a madcap in a cockpit, seared her new mark (708 m.p.h.): "You have flown too low, too fast. You have taken too many risks. You will be punished and suspended."

In a baccalaureate speech at Massachusetts' Brandeis University, Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt lamented the end of America's revolutionary enterprise. However, she saw a successor to carry on the torch: "I can think of only one country which today contains the spirit which founded America, and that is the state of Israel.

Here one finds all of the intense excitement and total devotion that goes into the building of a nation. I believe that we here in America have lost this sense of excitement and deep responsibility."' Winging into Los Angeles after a ten-day Australian tour, Comic Bob Hope reported to newsmen that great preparations are under way Down Under for the 1956 Olympic games, mused that he himself was thinking of trying to wangle a spot on the U.S. team. He had a hankering to throw a javelin, he said, and "I'll throw Sinatra."

Former State Department Official Alger Hiss, 50, released last November after serving 44 months for perjury in denying that he had passed secret Government papers to onetime Communist Courier Whittaker Chambers, was handed a summons by a Manhattan cop. The charge, followed by a plea of guilty: playing catch in a restricted area of Washington Square Park with son Tony, 13, and another lad. Penalty: a $3 fine.

Racing through the pages of Author Raymond Thorp's Bowie Knife, Iraq's impressionable young (20) King Feisal II got so excited about the wonderful versatility of such a weapon* that he instructed his aide-de-camp to try to get one of the genuine articles from the book's publisher, the University of New Mexico Press. Word of Feisal's request splashed into U.S. wire services, and soon the university's President Tom Popejoy was being showered with offers of stilettos, daggers, cheese knives and bodkins from all over. San Antonio's Chamber of Commerce sent Popejoy, for forwarding to Bagdad, an absolutely original Bowie knife (it said so right on the blade, which was "made in Germany"). At week's end, Author Thorp himself came to the rescue, ordered a skilled cutlery man to hone out a genuine imitation for His Majesty.

*Some suspect that Tumulty is more opportunist than clown. In his own district, Jersey City's monthly Independent, a non-partisan newsletter, ticked him off in an imaginary interview. Sample: "Q". 'They say that you jump too easily / From the Donkey's back to the G.O.P./ Would you care to comment, Mr. T.?' A, 'I'm for only one party / A grand old party / And that grand old party is ME.' "

*The knife, one of the best all-round weapons of its sort ever invented (useful for any chore from spreading butter to disemboweling enemies, also good for throwing), is still a topic of controversy among experts on such hardware. The question: Was it devised by obscure Frontiersman Rezin P. Bowie or by his famed brother, heroic Colonel James Bowie, who died in the siege of the Alamo?

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