"Names make news." Last week these names made this news:

Quietly into North Tarrytown, N. Y.'s trim Phillipse Manor station at 10 a. m. an electric locomotive drew a baggage car and one compartment Pullman named Glencliff. Two detectives cleared the platform of all save ticketholders. At 11 a. m. five automobiles, one resembling an ambulance, rolled up in single file. From four of them stepped 24 servants. They opened up the ambulance and lifted out not 94-year-old John Davison Rockefeller St., as bystanders expected, but the first of 115 pieces of luggage. Few minutes later Mr. Rockefeller, well-bundled in wraps and ear muffs and accompanied by his son John Jr., was driven up in a big, black sedan. Delayed at Pocantico Hills some three months by an attack of influenza, he was at last ready for his annual trip to his winter home at Ormond Beach, Fla. The announcement day before his departure that he had given up the trip was unexplained. Before his wheel-chair was hoisted into the Pullman a friend asked: "How do you feel?" "Splendid!" said he. But in Manhattan's Pennsylvania Station, where his private cars were hooked up to the Florida Special, he sent word to newshawks that he was very tired. His message: "I'm sorry I cannot see the reporters and give the photographers a picture. I'm glad they all came down."

At Ormond Beach next day an armed guard held back a crowd of 50 welcomers while Mr. Rockefeller, blinking through yellow goggles and again warmly clad, was carried in an ambulance chair from train to waiting automobile. "Howdy, Mr. Rockefeller," cried an acquaintance. "Howdy," piped Mr. Rockefeller. His servants pulled down the car's shades, smoothed his blankets, fussed with his coat. "I'm all right," he sighed, a little irritably. Someone asked the servants how he had stood the trip. "It's fine weather," said they.

On his 72nd birthday Charles Michael Schwab revealed that he was "lightening his load" by retiring as president of Manhattan's Whist Club and "only spending several hours a day" as board chairman of Bethlehem Steel. "But I'm not through playing bridge nor have I quit the Bethlehem Steel Co." said he. "I will always get a kick out of cards, and as for the Bethlehem Company--that is my monument!"

Scientist Albert Einstein who spends his spare time fiddling, received a letter from one Sigismund Alexander, jobless Jewish violinist, asking help. Professor Einstein replied: "I live a very, very quiet life here in Princeton and could not help you directly to find job. But your letter was very interesting to me--so much so that I promise herewith to write an autographic letter of thanks to anyone who gives you a job for at least a month."

New York City's Mayor Fiorello Henry LaGuardia visited the new $8,000,000 Bronx County Court House, exclaimed: "Why, it reminded me of the palaces of my ancestors, Justinian, Augustus Caesar and Nero. In fact, they did not know so much about splendor--they were just pikers. That building up there --oh, it's just gorgeous. Take the grand jury room, for instance. After sitting there on a ball-bearing throne in luxury that Romans never knew, the juror will go home and say Phooey!' Why, that room is so spacious that no witness will ever come within 40 feet of the jury. And the whole thing is air-conditioned. . . . If a juror wants to talk to the fellow in back of him, all he has to do is swing around on his ball-bearing throne, just like a merry-go-round. And what a sense of splendor he will get gazing at the murals and the frescoes. . . ."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.