Where are Girl-Next-Door June Allyson, Novelist Nelson Algren, Psychologist Erich Fromm, Automation Millionaire John Diebold, Folk Singer Burl Ives and Mr. America himself, Bert Parks? Scrubbed out of the 1973 Celebrity Register, for one thing. Instead, publiciety's decennial Almanach de Gotha includes for the first time Rapist Eldridge Cleaver, Lesbian Jill Johnston, Red Black Angela Davis, Existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre, and Senator Thomas Eagleton. For readers anxious to achieve such status, Microsociologist Cleveland Amory, in a foreword to the new edition, passes on some advice. The way to become a celebrity, said Aristotle Onassis, who ought to know, "is to get to control the people's playthings. The moment I bought Monte Carlo and controlled the most famous casino in the world, I became one of the most famous men in the world." Still, the chips that Onassis had been counting for ten years did not add up to a place in the 1963 Celebrity Register. Never mind. In the 1973 edition Ari rates half a column, only 28 lines fewer than the playmate who put him there: the former Jacqueline Kennedy.

When he is not cruising around with President Richard Nixon in his boat, Bachelor Bebe Rebozo, 60, has been dallying with Jane Lucke, secretary of his Miami lawyer. A divorcee, Mrs. Lucke lives with her mother and two sons, who sometimes come along on her dates. Interviewed by Vera Glaser and Malvina Stephenson of the syndicated "Offbeat Washington" column, Lucke described her beau as "not a recluse" but sensitive to press jabs. Apparently Rebozo was displeased when another Nixon friend, Businessman Robert Abplanalp, when asked what he planned to do with his property next to the President's $6.1 million San Clemente hacienda, twitted the press: "I'm going to build a ten-story whorehouse on it."

Japan's Imperial Household Agency, which keeps a little list of royal dos and don'ts, was aghast. As her parents, Crown Prince Akihito, 39, and Princess Michiko, 39, left Tokyo's Togu Palace for a ten-day official tour of Spain, their daughter, Nori, 4, planted on her mother's cheek the first public Imperial kiss. While the royal family does occasionally come out from behind its chrysanthemum curtain--Empress Nagako was recently permitted to exhibit her water-colors--such decadent occidentalism as kissing in public was unprecedented. However, it proved catching: arriving in Madrid, Princess Michiko stepped up to her Spanish counterpart, Princess Sophia, and bussed her on both cheeks.

Although Zero Mostel used to quip that he banked his money in his art books filed under Monet, art is no joke to the comic actor. A painter for 40 years, Zero had his first one-man show of more than 60 recent paintings and collages in Manhattan. "Let the paintings speak for themselves," he declared. And so they do, but in the accents of modern masters like Dubuffet, Klee and Miro. Zero's authentic voice can best be savored these days as he cavorts in a national touring company production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Currently: Valley Forge, Pa.

From a taxi tycoon to a Beautiful Person--thus Robert Scull was metamorphosed when he and his wife Ethel ("Spike") became early and well-publicized collectors of Pop art. The Sculls not only bought Warhols, Rauschenbergs, Poons, Johns, De Koonings, but also became Pop artifacts themselves by being reproduced--endlessly --from George Segal's plaster casts to Warhol's camera images. Last week the Sculls sold part of their family album. Fifty works that cost them a mere $150,000 a decade ago went for $2.2 million at Manhattan's Sotheby Parke Bernet. But the Sculls also got a comeuppance of sorts. Taxi drivers picketing the galleries claimed that the couple had scrambled upward and onward over their hard-driving backs. And Robert Rauschenberg, who sold his Double Feature to the Sculls for $2,500 in 1959 and saw it go for $90,000 at the sale, also had sharp words for his old friend Bob. "I worked my ass off for you to make that profit," he said. "You'd better buy my next one."

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