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

In a pensive mood at a dude ranch south of Reno, one of the age's most resolute fortune huntresses, Anita Roddy-Eden Manville, 32, ninth wife of burned-out (61) Asbestoscion Tommy Manville, airily counted her blessings. Of Tommy's divorce settlement offer of $260,000 in cash (tax free), plus other tokens of affection (jewelry, bonds, etc.), Anita cooed: "Wonderful, generous." A veritable seascape in her getup of fish-flecked sailcloth, a fishnet stole and assorted pearls. Anita announced, however, that she wants the exclusive right to pen Tommy's life story (tentative title: The Manville Myth) before she agrees to jettison him in Reno's divorce mill. Then she sadly observed that she would go straight back to Playboy Manville if only he would forget this silly business of her signing away all her inheritance rights as his wife. Unbound by such a nasty waiver, she would be sure of a bonanza when he died--enough shekels to bring fulfillment of her wildest dream, so poignantly expressed by Anita when she was billing herself in burlesque as "The Last of the Red-Hot Manvilles." "When Tommy passes on," she said, "I'll be there at the funeral with a long black veil that bulges in front. That bulge will be a little old cash register going 'cling-clang-cling.' "

At a pasture airport on Long Island, a few miles from the take-off point of his epic transatlantic flight in 1927, Air Force Brigadier General Charles A. Lindbergh, 53, chatted with Producer Leland Hayward about scenes to be filmed there for the movie version of Lindbergh's bestselling, Pulitzer-Prizewinning autobiography, The Spirit of St. Louis. Parked before them was a nostalgic replica of The Spirit itself (the original plane is enshrined in Washington's Smithsonian Institution). The film's Lindbergh will be played by lone-eaglish Cinemactor James (Strategic Air Command) Stewart, himself an Air Force Reserve colonel and wartime B-24 wing commander (20 missions), who last week got the Air Force's exceptional civilian service award for his help in promoting U.S. air power.

Sweden's luscious (36-23-36) Hillevi Rombin, 21, more renowned as Miss Universe, caused a small sensation in Hollywood by quietly undulating into an airline ticket office and booking a oneway passage to Stockholm. Signed by Universal-International studios at $250 a week, Hillevi had just been handed a bit role in The Benny Goodman Story, as an autograph-hunting U.S. bobbysoxer. A trifle puzzled by the fuss raised over her sudden departure, she later explained that the trip was inspired not by less love of Hollywood but more love of Sweden--and she will return to the U.S. next month. Her urgent mission: to see her fiance, a Royal Swedish Air Force lieutenant, and to tell her papa, an Upsala businessman who frowns on beauty contests, what this crazy Miss Universe business is all about.

Far from the proletarians he claims to love, Italy's vacationing Communist Boss Palmlro Togliatti, apparently recovered from his spring sunstroke (TIME, May 30), disported himself gaily at his favorite fun-and-games resort in the Italian Alps. With him were a passel of relatives and Red-riding hoods, as well as his aging doxy-soxer girl friend Leonilde Iotti. The entourage's most notable hood was Togliatti's shadowlike Bodyguard Armando ("Armandino") Rosati. Italy's anti-Communist press chortled mightily at the idea of taking thuggish Armandino along on a peaceful holiday. Sample snide caption (in Rome's Il Tempo): "Togliatti is caught by the photographer while he risks a few steps in the open." But it had its greatest fun with Togliatti's natty Alpine wear. To give the final dash to his fancy sport shirt, cardigan and chic knickerbockers, Togliatti sported a daring pair of patrician Argyle stockings. Hooted Rome's weekly Il Borghese: "They are stockings from the window of Old England [a posh Roman haberdashery]. By wearing them, Togliatti has definitely thrown overboard the 'poor man' tradition of Italian social-Communism . . . [He] is a petit bourgeois."

Browsing through a marketplace in Tashkent, capital of the Soviet Union's irrigation-ditched Uzbek Republic, a U.S. newsman spotted a cowboy hat, asked its wearer if he was an American. The far-flung tourist, Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, reckoned he was. Later, Douglas dashed to a nearby cotton-growing collective farm, where he had a joyful, isn't-it-a-small-world meeting with the dozen U.S. farmers also touring the U.S.S.R.

With a slender volume of 27 verses, titled Love Poems (World; $2.50) and dedicated cryptically to "S* and the search," sometime Actress-Artist Gloria Vanderbilt Stokowska, 31, officially blossomed as a sometime (i.e., printed) poetess. Sample titles from her "diary of feelings": my heart is a wild wave, Snow tenderly in city dawn, honey bees in our eaves, happiness a wing ding . . . is. Excerpts: "he kissed me through a glass closed window /I ... tried to remember as the glass shattered / that this was freedom instead of death"; "the heart is a circle / shaped like a cross . . . / a mold of lava / a tender thing / a shriek in the pillow / a butterfly's wing"; "... a wine of palest color . . . / It tasted bitter as an herb used perhaps for poison / And yet I drank / believing that when I reached the bottom / it might be sweet."

At the annual bullfight-for-fun fiesta in the southern French town of Vallauris, famed Painter Pablo Picasso, topped off by a matador's hat, cheered the festivities with his old friend, France's oddball Poet-Playwright Jean Cocteau. Because French tradition opposes bullfighters actually killing their beasts, Vallauris was deathless, but Spanish-born Aficionado Picasso seemed to enjoy the fray just as much as if the arena were awash with gore.

The terror of New Jersey's Teterboro Airport, aeronaughty TV Impresario Arthur Godfrey, who was shorn of his private pilot's ticket for six months last year after he peevishly buzzed Teterboro's control tower, taxied his DC-3 at the scene of the crime, this time clipped a ground approach light with his wing. Unaware that he had dented the wing and ripped a deicer, he nonchalantly took off for Nova Scotia. The tower called Godfrey, broke the news that he had just had a slight accident. Surprised as he could be, Pilot Godfrey returned to the field, where all was forgiven as an inadvertent mishap.

* Who could be her estranged second husband, Maestro Leopold Stokowski, or her occasional boy friend, Actor-Crooner Frank Sinatra.

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