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

In her name-dropping autobiography, R.S.V.P., fickle Party Girl Elsa Maxwell, 74, dropped lowest of all the name of Egypt's fat, fatuous ex-King Farouk: "My R.S.V.P. to an invitation to dine with Farouk [in 1950] was a telegram to his equerry which read, 'I do not associate with clowns, monkeys or corrupt gangsters.' I learned that Farouk screamed like a pig--what else?--when he saw the telegram." Farouk, always in need of money, slapped a $14,000 defamation-of-character suit on Elsa, who also has little money but seldom needs it. The hearing ended last week, and three Paris judges will hand down their decision this week. His corpulent Majesty did not appear in court. Full-bodied Defendant Maxwell's out-of-court defense was basically zoological. "I've never been called a monkey," chattered she. "But I've often been called a young whale. Of course, I'm just as much a beast as Farouk is, but I'm naturally so, or at least I hope so!" Have her feelings mellowed toward Fatso? "Humph! This man Farouk is no good at all!" sbsbsb Oregon's Democratic Senator Richard Neuberger gallantly suggested that separate but equal "gymnastic and natatorial" facilities be installed in the new Senate Office Building for Maine's Republican Senator Margaret Chase Smith. Though barred from using the Senate's all-male gym and swimming pool, Mrs. Smith, only female in the Senate, pooh-poohed the grand idea: "There is no justification for such an expense." sbsbsb A federal judge hung two contempt-of-Congress raps on owlish Playwright Arthur Miller for clamming on who else was present at a pro-Communist writers' palaver in 1947. Maximum sentence: a year in jail and $1,000 fine on each count. At week's end Pulitzer Prizewinner (Death of a Salesman) Miller, free on bond, and his dark-goggled wife, Cinemorsel Marilyn Monroe, headed for the hills from Manhattan for solitude and to celebrate Marilyn's 31st birthday. sbsb The U.S. Senate is not only one of the world's most exclusive clubs but a club whose members are expected to step out-side for epithetical exchanges. Despite such restrictions, Indiana's Republican Senator Homer Capehart rose one evening last week and in mounting anger began to upbraid one of the handful of Senators present, Oregon's Democrat Wayne Morse. With some 20 gawkers lolling in the galleries, Capehart cited a reported statement by Morse that Dwight Eisenhower and skidded Teamsters Union Boss Dave Beck are "the same kind of immoralists"--Beck for pickpocketing his union members, Ike for pickpocketing U.S. taxpayers. A shouting duel ensued. Declaring ex-Republican Morse a turncoat, Capehart cried that any such man is "intellectually dishonest and immoral." In rebuttal, Morse shouted that portly Homer Capehart is "a tub of rancid ignorance." Embarrassed by the rule-breaking spat in public, other Senators also joined in the shouting as peacemakers. Finally Wayne Morse proposed that the most intemperate salvo of his cannonade be stricken from the minutes. Thus, Capehart is no tub as far as the Congressional Record is concerned. sbsbsb At Washington's Griffith Stadium, Vice President Richard Nixon and his Mamie-banged daughter Patricia, 11, showed up for a baseball doubleheader between the New York Yankees and the Senators. After Papa Nixon explained some of the game's fine points to her, Pat screamed the Senators to victory (5-1) in the first contest, then groaned while the Yanks shut out the locals, 9-0. sbsbsb A modern innocent-abroad on his first visit to Europe, Utah's Uraniumillionaire Charles Steen, disembarked in England from the Queen Mary, announced that he had never before rubbed shoulders with so many unsociable snobs as his fellow first-class passengers. "My wife and I were not spoken to during the voyage by any other passenger," said he. "I got so desperate that I tried to horn in on a bridge game, but was repulsed. The players were all Americans too! If they had known who I was, they would have fallen all over themselves to be friends." The most friendly folks he met aboard the Mary: "The stewards and the waiters." sbsbsb On his promise to be a good boy, Italy's charm-loaded Movie Director Roberto Rossellini (TIME, May 27 et seq.) got a three-month extension of his visa to stay in India, busied himself again by day shooting documentary films in the sweltering humidity of Bombay. As proof of his good intentions, Rossellini abandoned his suite in the Taj Mahal Hotel that connected with the suite of exotic Sonali Das Gupta, 27, wife of an Indian movie director. He moved down the hall a piece to Room 561, a cubbyhole without air conditioning. Sonali, whose husband is now reported determined to divorce her, was dead set on leaving India and realizing her long-squelched (by hubby) ambition to become a big-name cinemactress. A newshawk asked Rossellini if he had ever told one of Sonali's kinsfolk that he wants to marry her. Suavely replied Roberto: "On the spur of the moment you say things you are not responsible for." Meanwhile, Sonali stayed put in her plush, air-conditioned quarters while the jasmine-scented nights of Bombay grew oppressively hotter.

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