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

Continuing his galloping gander at Europe, tireless Tourist Harry Truman returned to France and Gay Paree, where he made a brief speech on the stresses of the U.S. presidency, indicating that a young man should occupy the White House. How young is young? Truman did not say, except to reaffirm that he, at 72, knows his own "running-for-office days are over." Two days later, in Brussels, he made it clear that he considers Dwight D. Eisenhower young enough at 65 to run for reelection. Asked by a Belgian newsman whether the Democrats would welcome a decision by Ike to quit the race because of poor health, Harry replied: "I am hopeful that President Eisenhower's health will be good and will make him able to enter the presidential race." While in Brussels, Truman and wife Bess also got themselves up in go-to-meetin' attire, joined U.S. Ambassador to Belgium Frederick M. Alger Jr. in a palace visit with Belgium's young, informally dressed King Baudouin.

Party-lining Comedian Charlie Chaplin, 65, left the U.S. in 1952 and wound up in self-exile in Switzerland. Not long after his exit, he began liquidating all his known U.S. assets. Before surrendering his U.S. re-entry permit in 1953, British-Subject Chaplin, a U.S. resident for 42 years, made $2.7 million, according to a tab kept by U.S. revenooers, from dividends and sale of stocks and his movie studio. Last week the income-taxers announced that Millionaire Chaplin owes them about $1.1 million in arrears and interest. This fall a revenooer will journey to Switzerland for an unfriendly chat with Charlie. But the mission seems doomed to fail; unless Chaplin antes up the debt voluntarily (most unlikely), there is little of his left in the U.S. to grab besides some old derbies, canes and turned-up brogans.

The Air Force's rocket-sledding Lieut. Colonel John Paul Stapp (TIME, Sept. 12, 1955), world's swiftest (632 m.p.h.) land-borne man, was restricted to "routine," low-speed runs, ordered to quit torturing himself for science on the meteoric, eye-blackening sled trials. Explaining that Stapp was unhappy to be "grounded," an Air Force spokesman added: "He has really crowded the limit of human tolerance. We don't believe he or anyone should stretch his luck any further."

Poet Archibald MacLeish, bucking the pessimistic tide that often damns man's material progress, dashed off a ten-stanza Poem in a Festival of Art in Boston at the Public Garden, then headed there to read it. Gist of Poem: "Is it the city or heart that's wrong . . . / O hush! There is a silence in this place, / For all the chattering gears that grind, a grace / Of present expectation in this ground . . . / No city stands but is the image of the heart."

At a Liberal Party rally in Ontario, Canada's External Affairs Secretary Lester Pearson drew a broad distinction between living standards on opposite sides of the Iron Curtain. "I have a little threeroom summer cottage in [Quebec's] Gatineau hills," said he. "When I go there, I like to cook my own meals. When I was invited to Mr. Khrushchev's summer home in the Crimea last fall, it turned out to be a palace with 150 rooms. But then, he's a Communist Party leader. I'm not even a capitalist!"

Bracing himself to cover both the Democratic and Republican national conventions this summer, Author John (In Dubious Battle) Steinbeck was slightly worried at never having attended that sort of big political show. Last month Reporter Steinbeck, engaged to dope out the conventions for the Louisville Courier-Journal and some 25 other newspapers, sent a help-wanted letter to the dean of Northwestern University's School of Journalism, Kenneth E. Olson. Excerpts from his waggish call for the perfect legman: "I want a combination copy boy, telephone answerer, coffee maker ... an eavesdropper and Peeping Tom, a gossip and preferably a liar ... At the end of the [Chicago] convention he is finished, through, his career terminated and any attempt at blackmail will be strenuously resisted ... He is the patsy and I want him never to forget it. I'm getting mad at him already . . ." Last week Steinbeck picked his "queen's animal." Tom Deutschle, 38, ex-Chicago Sun newshawk and now a Loop pressagent, agreed to take the masochistic assignment.

To globe-circling Indonesian President Sukarno, whose republic is an infant democracy, Pope Pius XII passed on an ideal of democratic maturity: "Tranquillity and order, security and liberty under divine justice, so that citizens can [achieve] physical, intellectual and moral progress." Moslem Sukarno agreed.

Before hopping off on his inspection of nuclear-weapons testing grounds at Eniwetok and Bikini, snow-capped Defense Secretary Charles E. Wilson watched with vital interest as two B-52 crewmen snapped him into his parachute harness.

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