While Nelson Rockefeller paraded his best vote-luring grins on the hustings far north, brother Winthrop, the Arkansas cow baron, slouched into Dallas for the Texas State Fair, broadcast the joys of life as a simple farmer. "I never," he drawled, "want to go back to the city." Winnie, amiably noncommittal about his brother's try for New York Governor ("Most of my Democratic friends think Nelson has a real chance"), slyly dashed, for the time being, any stray ideas that he too might have political hankerings: "The state constitution requires that a man be a resident of Arkansas for seven years before he is eligible to run for Governor. I've only lived there five years."

In memory of her dear, dead days as a student star in Much Ado About Nothing, Bing Crosby's dark-eyed spouse Kathy Grant, 24 (who used to be Olive Kathryn Grandstaff), established a scholarship for drama hopefuls at the University of Texas, which awarded her the degree of bachelor of fine arts at its 1956 summer session commencement.

In the far corner raged undefeated retired Heavyweight Champ (1926-28) Gene Tunney, ably seconded by Polly, his socialite wife of 30 years. His opponent: burly Yugoslav Dictator Tito, a canny pro at the political bob-and-weave. Occasion of the scrap: Tunney's second honeymoon, which the ex-champ, now a capitalist and director of many corporations, wanted to spend on the wooded Adriatic isle of Brioni, location of Tito's many-splendored summer place. "Thirty years ago," said Gene, "my wife and I spent most of our honeymoon on Brioni.

Now Tito won't let anyone within 100 miles of the place. I am sore, plenty sore." But soreness, ringsiders agreed, was no match for Balkan bureaucracy: the Tunney holiday would undoubtedly take place far, far from Brioni.

For more than 50 years, a landmark for Londoners (including Irish Immigrant George Bernard Shaw) was the flower stall on the Strand commanded by Mrs. Winifred Naomi Wilson. Last week the will of "Cockney Kitty" Wilson (who died in August at 77) was published, revealed that the prototype of the bedraggled Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion and My Fair Lady had left an estate of $865.20.

In blithe spirits, 17-year-old James T. Sullivan of Waterloo, Iowa lifted his right hand to take the oath of allegiance required of Navy enlistees, thereby followed in the footsteps of his father Albert and four uncles (George, Francis, Madison and Joseph) who as the Fighting Sullivans served together as bluejackets during World War II, died together when the cruiser Juneau was torpedoed near Guadalcanal on Nov. 13, 1942.

Leonine Conductor Leonard Bernstein,

who stomped on tradition by opening the New York Philharmonic's first Thursday "preview" concerts with a clutch of jokes and song snatches in a quavering baritone (TIME, Oct. 13), stomped again at the season's second Thursday. On stage at Carnegie Hall trooped the symphony's 107 members, garbed not in the familiar spikey ties and rumpled tails, but in a Bernstein brainstorm: work clothes of off black trousers and matching tropical jackets with bandmasters' collars and white cuff piping, based vaguely on the rehearsal coats of old-line European conductors. Reaction: mixed, so far. Murmured one Philharmonic player to another: "You look like a bellhop at the Astor."

Moderately reformed Mobster Mickey Cohen reeled back from another defeat in his running battle with the law. Out of a San Francisco court went his $11,500 suit against a brace of cops for a late night "rousting" two months ago. Protested Mickey's mouthpiece: "The police do not want the presence of the plaintiff in San Francisco." Murmured the judge, deciding that the grounds were "frivolous": "That makes sense."

For Poet Robinson (Roan Stallion) Jeffers, a grave, chilly-eyed solitary who hews out his tragic, relentlessly surging lines in an isolated stone tower of a home at Carmel, Calif., the Academy of American Poets, on the edge of its 25th anniversary, had a warming tribute: its 1958 fellowship, for "distinguished poetic achievement," carrying with it $5,000--largest award available to native poets. Among the twelve previous fellows: Rutherford, N.J. Physician William Carlos Williams, Chicago Translator (Ovid, Vergil) Rolfe Humphries.

Everything was set for a rally on the Statehouse grounds in Columbia, S.C. by dynamic Evangelist Billy Graham, until Governor George Bell Timmerman Jr. suddenly protested. The Graham gospel, cried Baptist Timmerman, might be "injurious to the cause of segregation. Billy Graham is well known for his support of the program to mix races in the South. As a Southerner, his endorsement of racial mixing has done much harm." But Billy stood fast: "I am certain no citizen would object to people being won to Christ on the capital grounds."

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