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

Thirty years ago a young gold prospector named Thomas E. Latimer returned from the Klondike, married a girl of Hilliard, Ohio. Three months later they separated. Prospector Latimer lost track of his wife, heard only that a son was born but soon died.

Thomas E. Latimer was preparing for his inauguration as Mayor of Minneapolis (TIME, June 24), when a young man called on him, introduced himself as Ira H. Latimer, Chicago radio news commentator. Brought up under the name of Jenkins by his mother and her second husband, Ira Latimer had long suspected that Thomas Latimer was his father, knew it when he read that Minneapolis' Mayor-elect was born in Hilliard. Thomas Latimer demanded proof, got it. Chief guests at his inauguration last week were his son, daughter-in-law, two-year-old grandson.

At a Cincinnati dock, one sultry afternoon, Mary Becker Greene stood in the wheelhouse of her newest steamboat, peered up the Ohio River, impatiently fingered the wheel. Hefty "Ma" Greene is the only licensed woman navigator on inland waterways in the U. S. With her two hefty sons, Tom and Chris, she operates the Greene Line, founded by her late husband. At 68, she can do most shipboard jobs, bosses her crews without profanity, likes to sew and embroider on deck. Recently "Ma" Greene bought for $135,000 the old-style packet Cape Girardeau which Chicago's onetime Mayor William Hale ("Big Bill") Thompson used to use for political junkets. Renamed the Gordon C. Greene for "Ma" Greene's husband, she was ready last week, with 100 passengers and 700 tons of whiskey, soap and paint, to re-open steamboat passenger service between Cincinnati and Pittsburgh (500 miles). Rivermen gave her an oldtime sendoff. A deck-sweep fired a cannon. Forty Negro roustabouts sang, "Gwineter wuk on a steamboat till I dies." Peacock proud, "Ma" Greene took a turn at the wheel, then settled down to sewing. Four days later the Gordon C. Greene splashed into Pittsburgh.

Dining in a Chatham, Ont. hotel, Composer Sigmund Romberg took a fancy to the hotel harpist, asked her to play Deep in My Heart from his Student Prince. The harpist did not know it. Could she play his Only a Rose? No. His Auf Wiedersehen? No. Composer Romberg ripped off his collar, autographed it, thrust it at the harpist, finished his dinner collarless.

From beneath a $1,000 painting of Venice belonging to American Radiator & Standard Sanitary Corp.'s Board Chairman Clarence Mott Woolley, a Manhattan restorer scratched out about one-third of a nude girl with red roses in her blonde hair, placed the original painting in the early 16th Century, thought it might be the work of an old master. Commented Mr. Woolley: "I think he's unduly excited about it. When I saw him last he thought it was a Michelangelo."

In Christie's London auction rooms J. Pierpont Morgan's vast collection of miniatures was sold, in line with his program of getting his estate into the most liquid position possible before his death. Assembled abroad by his father, the 795 tiny, jeweled pictures were bought mainly by European dealers and collectors for $349,285, about two-thirds of what the elder Morgan is supposed to have paid for the collection.

Forty years ago in New Orleans, the late, great Sarah Bernhardt, with Theodore Owen as guide, went alligator hunting in nearby swamps where she picked up a 6-in. baby, called him Aleck, presented him to Owen. Owen built an alligator pool in his garden, house-broke Aleck, cherished him ever after. Last week Owen was dead and most of New Orleans had forgotten Sarah Bernhardt, when Aleck, grown ten feet long and weighing 300 pounds, was auctioned off for $1.

While University of Chicago's President Robert Maynard Hutchins & wife were vacationing, their campus home was robbed of silverware, jewelry, heirlooms valued at more than $3,000.

Found shot dead in a Detroit park was Howard Carter Dickinson, 52, nephew of Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes's wife. Attorney Dickinson had gone from New York to Detroit to investigate a young woman's claim against the $40,000,000 Yawkey (lumber) estate. After four days' search, Detroit police produced William Schweitzer, underworldling, and three dance-hall girls who told of having been with Lawyer Dickinson on a two-day drinking party culminating in a hold-up and the shooting.

Quintuplets Cecile Marie Emilda and Yvonne Edouilda Marie Dionne stood up in their playpen for the first time.

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