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

That firm believer in men as islands unto themselves, Cinemactor-Crooner Frank Sinatra (TIME, Aug. 29), tolled the bells over two big deals he had in the works. First, Frankie and NBC abruptly called off their parleys about the network's lavish five-year contract offer of about $3,000,000 for his TV services. Then, he walked off the Maine location where he was to star in the movie retread of the musical Carousel. His excuse: production complications would have barred him from keeping a singing date in a Las Vegas pleasure dome next week. In Rome, meanwhile, one of Frankie's most voluptuous girl friends tolled a bell for him. Asked if romance had bloomed between her and Sinatra, touring Swedish Cinemactress Anita Ekberg cuddled her puny poodle and cooed coolly: "My only love is my dog."

Though he usually stays on the ground, the Air Force's mild-mannered Lieut. Colonel John Paul Stapp, 45, got aviation's annual Cheney Award for his contributions to space medicine. Dr. Stapp's most spectacular bit of research: setting a world land-speed record of 632 m.p.h. on a rocket-propelled sled (TIME, Jan. 10) while testing firsthand the reactions of airmen to bullet-swift speeds and brain-jarring stops.

In a resplendent highlight of Long Island's summer social season, widening Automogul Henry Ford II and his petite wife Anne, togged for a make-believe Arabian night, met up with tall-on-the-camel Cinemactor Gary (Beau Geste) Cooper at a Baghdad ball in Southampton. For his resemblance to a sheik on his way to a shower bath, Arabian Knight Cooper copped first prize in the men's division for his getup's elegant authenticity.

Cinemactress Jayne Mansfield, in Manhattan to star in Broadway's spoof of fame in Hollywood, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?, confided that her heart really goes out to the lower animals. Sighed she wistfully: "All I have now is a great Dane, a Chihuahua, three cats named Sabina. Romulus and Ophelia, and a rabbit known as Bublitchki. I had a pink poodle, Bon Bon, which just died after we had it dyed pink to match my pink Jaguar ... I also had some mice, but somebody let them out in Atlantic City."

Hurriedly, between scenes of Broadway's hit revival of The Skin of Our Teeth (TIME, Aug. 29), Actress Helen Hayes and her husband, Playwright

Charles (The Front Page) MacArthur, beamed proudly at the image of their adopted son James, 17, on a television set in her dressing room in the ANTA Theater. James won high praise for his TV acting debut in the role of a misunderstood youth on CBS-TV's hour-long dramatic show Climax!

Pakistan's limpid-eyed ex-Prime Minister Mohammed Ali, 45, ambassador to the U.S. for 15 months in 1952-53, was reappointed to his old striped-pants post in the capital. On getting the tidings, Washington's hostesses knitted aging brows. Their problem: If Ali, recently married to a second wife under his Moslem prerogative (TIME, April 18), were to bring both his ladies to Washington, should social invitations include either, neither, or both wives? To their relief, the hostesses read at week's end that Ali had partially solved their problem. He will, according to word from Pakistan, bring to the U.S. only Begum No. 2, Canadian-born Lebanese Aliya Saadi, his "prosperity" bride. But the capital's party-givers were still slightly upset: they had grown fond of popular Begum No. 1, Hamida, when Aliya was a lowly, belowstairs secretary to Ali.

His poundage down from 210 to 185, his waistline shrunk from 44 in. to a svelte 37, Senate Majority Leader Lyndon B. Johnson, 47, thriving on a low-caloric diet to speed his recovery from his heart attack of early July, waved a happy farewell to congressional cares at Washington's National Airport. Then he and his wife Lady Bird flew away home to Texas, where Johnson will loll around a few months in home-town Johnson City.

Cinemogul Samuel Goldwyn, interviewed on the eve of his 73rd birthday, abandoned his famed malapropisms in favor of some straight-spoken reminiscences. Recalling how he had teamed up with Jesse Lasky and Cecil B. DeMille to grind out Hollywood's first full-length feature film, The Squaw Man, in 1913, Pioneer Goldwyn chuckled: "What a trio to go into the movie business! I had seen one movie--something with Broncho Billy [G. M. Anderson] chasing a train. Jesse and Cecil had never seen any!" After Director DeMille had inexpertly filmed The Squaw Mart (with Dustin Farnum and Winifred Kingston) under inadequate stage-type lighting and shipped it off to New York, Sam Goldwyn ruefully telegraphed: "Film awful. You show only half the actor's face, the rest is in darkness. I'll have to sell the film at half-price." DeMille's quick-witted rejoinder: "Is it my fault if you don't know Rembrandt lighting when you see it?" Exultant, Goldwyn wired back: "Wonderful, wonderful, with Rembrandt lighting I can get twice the money." "And," glowed Supersalesman Goldwyn last week, "I did!"

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