"Names make news." Last week the following names made the following news:

Interviewed last week, President Paul von Hindenburg of the German Republic said: "I have always been a Monarchist. In sentiment I still am. Now it is too late for me to change. But it is not for me to say that the new way is not the better way, the right way. So it may prove to be. ... I am not a pacifist. That is not my attitude. But all my impressions of war are so bad that I could be for it only under the sternest necessity --the necessity of fighting Bolshevism or of defending one's country."

Lieut.-General Jan Christiaan ("Slim Jannie") Smuts, onetime Prime Minister of South Africa, arrived in Manhattan for a lecture tour through the U. S. and Canada. Said he: "I am not here to try to deflect you from your course but I shall have something to say in my speeches about what the League of Nations has accomplished for Europe and other parts of the world. . . . With new developments that have come about, it is certain that no nation will be so foolish as to dissipate its powers against the armaments of another. No, the attack of the future would be against the civil population and the weapons would be poison gas and bacteria. I don't call that war. . . . War is really a high-hat thing and I'm not so sure but what I've enjoyed it."

Calvin Coolidge, Julius Rosenwald and Alfred Emanuel Smith announced that they had decided how to apportion the $6,000,000 fund left in their care by the late Charitarian Conrad Hubert, flashlight manufacturer. After appraising some 500 institutions in eight months, they selected 34 worthy beneficiaries, among them: Boy Scouts ($500,000), Girl Scouts ($500,000), Red Cross ($375,000), Y. M. C. A. ($250,000), Y. M. H. A. ($75,000). Between Mr. Coolidge and Mr. Smith arose some discussion as to how the news should best be handled by the press.

Mr. Coolidge: I think it would be all right to publish the story of the meeting today [Thursday] and then the announcement on Monday.

Mr. Smith: No. That scatters it too much. It all ought to be printed Monday. . . .

Mr. Coolidge: That won't hurt the story.

Mr. Smith: It won't go on the front page. It will go way back beside O'Sullivan's heels. . . . (To reporters) Well, you can say we met today.

Mr. Coolidge (to reporters): I think it will be ready Monday.

Erich Maria Remarque, author of All Quiet on the Western Front, took some friends out to the Avus Race Track. Berlin. His Bugatti slithered along the wet asphalt, flipped over, hurting his nose and right leg, shaking up his friends.

James Roosevelt, eldest son of Governor Franklin Delano Roosevelt of New York, sat beside his father in Albany, heard clemency pleas for three Buffalo murderers sentenced to death. Said Governor Roosevelt: "Inasmuch as Jim is going to be a lawyer I thought it would be good experience for him." Next year James will go to Harvard Law School.

Around a Manhattan drugstore a crowd of people gathered, peering through the windows at a man who was buying some toothpaste. The buyer emerged and strolled down a sidestreet. The crowd strolled after him, growing as it moved, so that by the time the purchaser of toothpaste stopped before a basement door under a brownstone house, some 150 fairsized people, none looking larger than small boys compared to the object of their interest, stood around him, pointing, murmuring. He was Primo Camera, Brobdingnagian Italian fisticuffer, 6 ft. 11 1/2 in., 287 lbs. by latest measurements, arrived in the U. S. for fights not yet announced. He spoke to the face that appeared at the grill of the doorway, and, bending his head, went inside.

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