Still listed in the new Washington phone book: the New York-based law firm of Nixon, Mudge, Rose, Guthrie, Alexander & Mitchell (298-5970).

"Why can't I fall in love like any other man?" croaks Cockney Anthony Newley. Down in front, wondering right along with the singer, is his most devoted fan. "I know every song by heart," says Charlotte Ford Niarchos. "I sometimes think I could get up on the stage and sing them myself. But not so well, of course." The divorced heiress followed Newley's stage show all the way to Toronto, indicating more than artistic admiration. Newley, who is in the midst of divorce proceedings, allowed gallantly: "The very fact that she is here is a most beautiful thing."

Italians are making a jet-age Robin Hood of Skyjacker Raffaele Minichiello. When he comes to trial for that gunpoint odyssey from Los Angeles to Rome, the young Marine should have no trouble financing his defense. He stands to get lira aplenty from Producer Carlo Ponti, who will make a $2,000,000 movie about the adventure. And why not Mrs. Ponti--Sophia Loren --as the hostess who volunteers to go all the way with TWA and Raffaele?

"I am a child of the House of Commons, its servant," said Winston Churchill. "All I am I owe to the House of Commons." Long a part of Commons' legend, the late Prime Minister is now a part of its architecture--and no insignificant part at that. Churchill's bronze statue, like his impact, is larger than life. It stands 7 ft. 5 in. in height, weighs a ton, and cost $26,400. Clementine, Baroness Spencer-Churchill, 84, handsomely turned out in fur coat and pale blue feather hat, stepped forward to unveil her famous husband's latest image. Blinking in the bright lights, she pulled the cord and then started visibly as the drapings fell, to reveal her husband in his famous "bulldog" stance, with foot, chin, belly and vision forward. Permanently threatening another step, Churchill's bronze expresses, in the sculptor's words, "an idea of impatience and hurry, of a man wanting to see something done."

"He'd be ideal for the part," said the producers of a pop musical about Christ called Superstar. "After all, from pictures of Christ he looked like a well-turned-out Lennon." John Lennon, that is. Sure, he'd consider playing Jesus, the Beatle was reported to have said, "but if I do it, I would want Yoko Ono to play Mary Magdalene." The Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral in London, where they hope to stage Superstar, explained hastily that he had "nothing to do with the casting." By then, the producers were getting a little nervous too, and the offer was withdrawn. No matter. The frustrated Messiah has a project of another stripe coming up. Avant-Garde magazine will soon publish his latest artistic efforts--a series of lithographs depicting Mr. and Mrs. Lennon making love.

Mr. and Mrs. Victor Cattrell of Edinburgh did not much care for the dark, spooky painting of a naked Eve and a leering Death--a legacy from Mrs. Cattrell's uncle that had been hanging in their living room for 15 years. "The most attractive paintings I have are those by my seven-year-old daughter," said Cattrell. Taste is taste. But when the couple decided to sell the canvas to make a down payment on a car, they found quite a market. Bidding at Sotheby's stopped at $537,600 for The Temptation of Eve, authenticated as one of the few existing works of the 16th century German master Hans Baldung. "Obviously," said Cattrell after the sale, "we shall be able to afford the fare back to Edinburgh."

"I know the play was good," insisted the star. "Everybody up there on the stage can act and sing and dance better than any critics, so who are they to criticize?" Actually, the critics gave Muhammad Ali, better known as Cassius Clay, good reviews for his Broadway debut in Buck White, but they found the show pretty pallid. It went down for the count after seven performances.

This time around, Eugene McCarthy has won a national election. The three-member poetry prize committee of the National Endowment for the Arts has chosen his poem, Three Bad Signs, for a $500 award. Completed during the Indiana primary campaign last year, the poem appears to be a sly indictment of the typical small-town reaction to Clean Gene's crusaders:

This is a clean, safe town. No one can just come round With ribbons and bright thread Or new books to be read. This is an established place. We have accepted patterns in lace, And ban itinerant vendors of new

forms and whirls, And things that turn the heads

of girls . . .

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