If you can't join 'em, beat 'em, decided the Journalists for Professional Equality, a group of Washington reporters who banded together to protest the barring of women from membership in the capital's venerable press club, the Gridiron. In competition against that group's annual "roast" of politicians, the J.P.E. staged its own bash: a $7.50-a-head, beer-and-chili evening to benefit the Reporters' Committee for Freedom of the Press. Entertaining the sellout crowd of 800 were such Gridiron defectors as Senator Ed Muskie, running a bingo game; former Attorney General Elliot Richardson, autographing his doodles for auction (highest price was $1,000); Senator Adlai Stevenson III, taxi-dancing; CBS's Dan Rather, selling kisses for 50 cents; and Martha Mitchell, who offered to call anyone, anywhere, about anything--for $5. At least one Congressman had his consciousness raised. The Rev. Robert Drinan bought a T shirt reading "Trust in God. She will provide." Said the jolly Jesuit: "Aren't these for girls?"

Among the 30,000 letters that she receives each month from the most desperate of her millions of readers, the nation's best-read problem solver has not yet heard from the White House. Should a plea for help arrive, however, unstumpable Ann Landers will be ready. Last week, speaking to 1,500 students at Notre Dame, Eppie Lederer, who has been "Ann" for 19 years, was asked how she would advise President Nixon. "Get on national television and say 'I resign,' " said Ann bluntly. At a recent White House reception she went on to relate, a "prominent politician" approached her: "So you're Ann Landers --tell me something funny." Replied Ann, quick as usual with a putdown: "So you're a politician--tell me a lie."

After the opening home game last week, the San Diego Padres agreed that they deserved a break--from McDonald's. Trailing 9-5 in the eighth inning against the Houston Astros, the Padres were chastised in front of 39,000 fans by their new owner, Ray Kroc, 71, chairman of America's fastest-food empire. Perhaps hoping to instill in the team McDonald's will-to-win spirit, Kroc announced over the public address system: "I've never seen such stupid ball playing in my life." Although Kroc later apologized, the Padres considered complaining to Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, then thought better of it. Still, it may be a long season.

Deposed as king in 1967, Patrick Olimi, 28, does not have time to be nostalgic about the old days in Toro, his former kingdom in western Uganda. He has settled in neighboring Kenya and started a career in advertising. But the rigors of monarchy hardly prepared him for a humdrum existence; so when he was offered the role of stand-in for Sidney Poitier in a movie, The Wilby Conspiracy, filmed in Nairobi and Nanyuki, he took a leave of absence from his company. Patrick emphasized it was only a lark. "I jumped at the offer as something new and exciting," he said in a break between the fights that document the story of a black South African's escape from jail. About the plot, he is enthusiastic: "I'm glad it shows so starkly the evils of the color bar." As for his own role: "It's much harder than being a king."

It was an oldsters' Woodstock. Some 2,800 mostly middle-aged fans roared and stamped as a stouter, hoarser Frank Sinatra, 58, opened his eight-city "comeback" tour with a concert at Manhattan's Carnegie Hall. The audience, which included Ginger Rogers, Cristina Ford, Freddie Brisson and Bette Midler, paid up to $150 a ticket. Several women screamed "You're still gorgeous!" as the Voice swung into standards from his pre-Mia Farrow period like Here's That Rainy Day and I Get a Kick Out of You. If Frankie no longer sings with the glandular whine that made him the nation's No. 1 crooner for almost three decades, he still has his ineffable timing and cheek. Sipping red wine and slipping in a commercial for the brand, Frankie teased New York's minuscule mayor Abe Beame (5 ft. 2 in.), whom he spotted in the audience. Cracked Frank: "The mayor is not in black tie tonight. Tatum O'Neal got the tuxedo first." Then he toasted the city where his career began in 1943: "I've had some of my best fights here."

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