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

In one of those embarrassing incidents which, whether accidental or calculated, always make surefire headlines, Sweden's voluptuous Cinemactress Anita (Blood Alley) Ekberg writhed her swivel-hipped way across the crowded foyer of a posh London hotel, suddenly found her strapless, skinlike gown at half mast when its key stitches gave way. Reported a lady eyewitness: "Under it was--just Anita." With a pretty display of shocked modesty, Anita repaired to an anteroom for repairs, cooed later: "I like tight dresses, but after this, well . . ."

On last week's sick list: Colorado's brainy Republican Senator Eugene D. Millikm, 64, ailing with a "digestive upset" in the capital; roly-poly Industrialist Henry J. Kaiser, 73, bedded in Honolulu after suffering slight injuries when he fell in his bedroom in the dark.

On CBS's Let's Find Out radio program, A. Philip Randolph, head of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, endorsed Tennessee's Democratic Senater Estes Ketauver as the most appealing presidential candidate to U.S. Negroes. Reason: "He is the only one to come out definitely on civil rights."

In Manhattan, Singer Julius La Rosa, 26, who found fame with TV Impresario Arthur Godfrey and fortune ($500,000-odd a year) when Godfrey fired him, toasted his engagement to raven-haired Rosemary ("Rory") Meyer. Experienced in dealing with troubadours as Crooner Perry Como's secretary, Rory, 25, first popped into the public eye a little over a year ago, when she won a national contest as Cinemactress Ava Gardner's closest lookalike.

Utah's Governor J. Bracken Lee, who

regards all foreign aid as the devil's handiwork, greeted the New Year with a renewed resolution not to pay so much as a penny of his 1955 income tax until he gets a Supreme Court ruling on the constitutionality of "squandering" U.S. tax dollars overseas.

In France, one of playboy Prince Aly Khan's legal eagles allowed that His Highness will soon take a third wife, top Parisian Mannequin Simone Bodin, 30, renowned as Bettina in the fashion world.

Only obstacle now in the way: a French court's recognition of Prince Aly's Las Vegas divorce (TIME, Feb. 9, 1953) from sultry Cinemactress Rita Hayworth, who last week settled a nine-month feud with Columbia Pictures. Rita was expected to go before cameras in a cinemusical version of Pal Joey (instead of going Biblical, as once planned, in a movie version of Thomas Mann's Joseph and His Brothers).

On the 25th anniversary of the Metropolitan Opera debut of durable Soprano Lily Pens, 51, the Met staged a special gala to hail her, programmed a hit parade of Ponsongs from such favorite operas of Lily's as Rigoletto and Lucia di Lammermoor. From high-domed Rudolph Bing, the Met's general manager, Lily got congratulations and a passel of sterling silver mementos. Almost as trim as she was when she first defied the stereotyped bovine heft of oldtime grand divas, tiny (5 ft. 1/2 in., 109 Ibs.) French-born Singer Pons graciously took her curtain calls, then used her special brand of English to thank Met-goers for "all those years I have sing in this wonderful house."

Efficiently walking through his publicity chores for the Senior Bowl football game in Mobile, Ala. (see SPORT), the University of Illinois' great, onetime All-America Halfback Harold ("The Galloping Ghost") Grange, 52, told a newsman how and why, after a 1951 heart attack, he doesn't gallop any more. Explained Red: "I keep just as busy as I want to be --no more, no less. I used to rush from one place to another, but now I'd just as soon get there five minutes late . . . Anybody who goes to an office every day, and doesn't have to, is nuts!"

FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, often billed as the nation's No. 1 cop, decided that "cop" is a bad word, advised the U.S. public to refer to police officers with kinder synonyms. Wrote he in the FBI's monthly house organ: "Whenever there remains the vestige of the public scorn inherent in the epithet 'cop,' the hope for adequate salaries, proper equipment and working conditions, and other requisites of an efficient police department wanes . . . 'Cop' holds the same unsavory connotation as 'quack' and 'hack' when referring to the doctor and the journalist."

Forced by an attack of indigestion to abandon his microphone at the outset of the Sugar Bowl football game in New Orleans, self-respecting ABC-TV Sports Commentator Bill Stern kicked a modest point after the contest was over. "I hope it didn't spoil a good ball game," nobly apologized he for his dereliction of duty. "I have no right to do this to the American people."

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