Friday, Dec. 21, 1962

In my heart there may be doubt that I deserve the Nobel award over other men of letters whom I hold in respect and reverence," said Author John Steinbeck 60. "But I am impelled not to squeak like a grateful and apologetic mouse but to roar like a lion out of pride in my profession." Perhaps it was the fact that he stood on the Stockholm rostrum with five scientists (one American, four British) or perhaps it was just the old itch to shock. But at the end of his acceptance speech Steinbeck took the occasion to suggest a small revision in an older work by another author, with which some were certain not to agree (see RELIGION). --

Sentries stood 24-hour guard at her cabin door on the S.S. France. She was tied to a berth and encased in an airtight 160-lb. plastic container impervious to salt and water. No one would insure her against harm because she is priceless. But a warm welcome awaits the Mona Lisa on her arrival this week at Washington's National Gallery. Officials are fiddling with the thermostats to duplicate the Louvre's temperature and humidity so that all will be well on Jan. 8 when the painting goes on display for three weeks. Back home, the rhubarb over her visit to the U.S. raged all the louder. "Knowing Americans," snarled one art critic "they'll probably have her parading down Fifth Avenue in the bitter cold in an open car under tons of confetti." --

Triviality, said Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, 70, is the great problem of the modern church. It means "Protestants worrying about Catholics' playing bingo or electing a President, and Catholics worrying about artificial contraception in a world faced with a population explosion. It means "every disproportionate concern with the minutiae of religious observance, ecclesiastical organization and sectarian tradition at a time when a whole generation is passing through a world revolution." --

It was near to freezing in Memphis when the Delta Automatic Transmission eleven took on the Elvis Presley Enterprisers for an evening of touch football. The Enterprisers, who promote, among other things, genuine Elvis T shirts had the genuine Elvis playing for them. In well-packed elastic gridiron pants, spiffy blue-and-white-striped socks, a blue jersey emblazoned with a big white "7." Elvis concentrated mainly on defense. The Enterprisers lost 13 to 6. --

Barreling down U.S. 17 toward Florida in a snappy grey Lincoln convertible Private Lucky Earl Beckwith, U.S.M.C. zoomed into the hamlet of Woodbine, Ga., was forthwith halted by the cops. A check revealed the real owner to be not so Lucky; he was New York Philharmonic Conductor Leonard Bernstein.

Beckwith told questioners that he got a job as chauffeur and valet for Bernstein through "mutual friends" after deserting the Marine Corps in September, had lammed off with the Lincoln for a three weeks' toot. Said absent-minded Maestro Bernstein, who apparently forgot to report the theft: "All I know is that he let me out at a recital on Nov. 24 and never did pick me up again."

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Manhattan's seventh annual Polonaise Ball was a little bit of Old Warsaw on Old Park Avenue. The Old Warsaw Orchestra played the Krakowiak, and nearly everybody was there: Mrs. Artur Rubinstein, Mrs. Artur Rodzinski, Vera Zorina

Lieberson--everyone except that royal Polish pair. Prince and Princess Stanislas Radziwill. patrons of the ball. Two ladies present might have wished they weren't. Appearing in identical pink net, gold spangled Dior gowns were Mrs. Alan Jay Lerner (the former Micheline Muselli

Pozzo di Borgo) 34, and Socialite Mary McFadden, 24, public-relations director for Dior-New York. Vanity got the best ol flackery. Said Mary, with un-Christian-Dior-ike candor: "Mine is the original model from the 1962 fall collection."

Looking as if he had just stepped from a niche in an old cathedral, Pope John XXIII, 81, in miter and brocades attended canonization ceremonies for three new saints in St. Peter's Basilica. Later in the week, appearing at an audience for 1,200 (his first since his recovery from anemia), he entered the Vatican's Clementine Hall briskly, but accepted help in mounting the three steps to the golden throne. Cheerily expressing the hope that he would be around to see the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council before Christmas of 1963, he said: "One year is a long time. I may not be here. If I'm not there certainly will be another Pope "

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