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

North Dakota's Senator Gerald P. Nye suffered slight leg bruises when his automobile jumped the highway near Edgeley after ramming a drove of pigs.

In Beverly, Mass., where he has a summer home, John Barry Ryan, son of the late Copperman Thomas Fortune Ryan, applied to the mayor for appointment as a special policeman.

Nursing a shoulder fractured two months ago in a springboard dive, on his 40th birthday Author F. Scott Fitzgerald was found in an Asheville, N. C. resort hotel by the New York Post. Jittery and moody, he moped about his hotelroom, rambled to his interviewer between drinks: "One is not waiting for the fadeout of a single sorrow, but rather being an unwilling witness of an execution, the disintegration of one's own Personality. . . . I lost my grip." Asked what he thought about the neurotics of the '20's whom he pictures in This Side of Paradise and The Great Gatsby, Author Fitzgerald moaned: "Why should I bother myself about them? . . . Some became brokers and threw them selves out of windows. Others became bankers and shot themselves. Still others became newspaper reporters. And a few successful authors. Oh my God, successful authors!"

Newcomers to the 1936-37 Who's Who in America: Physicist Albert Einstein, Senator Rose McConnel Long, Maine's Governor Louis Jefferson Brann, Stratospherists Orvil A, Anderson & Captain Albert William Stevens, Cinemactress Shirley Temple. Voluble Surgeon Charles Horace Mayo of Rochester, Minn, supplied the longest biography (151 lines), surpassing by one line Manhattan Lawyer Samuel Untermeyer's.

Booked for a radio interview along with Cinemartist Walt Disney and a young actor playing Donald Duck, Soprano Grace Moore (One Night of Love, The King Steps Out) stormed about the studio until the duck's part was eliminated. Squealed she: "I will not sing with livestock."

Bankrupt Cinemactor Reginald Denny two months ago set up a model airplane factory in Hollywood, started producing a six-foot monoplane powered by a single-cylinder, 1/5-horsepower gasoline engine. To lure financial backing, he last week sent a Denny standard model zooming from Los Angeles' Union Air Terminal carrying eight ounces of gasoline. With news cameramen and a National Aeronautic Association official trailing in a full-sized airplane, the tiny ship soared up to 1,600 ft., flew ten miles till it crashed into the Santa Suzanna Mountains after 1 hr., 47 min. Announcing that the demonstration had brought him a backer, Cinemactor Denny crowed: "I can fiddle around as much as I want to and can quit worrying about whether the plant loses money."

President Richard Spencer Childs of Manhattan's City Club invited William Pickens, field secretary of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and a Yale Phi Beta Kappa key holder to join. When an acceptance arrived on N.A.A.C.P. stationery, the City Club hastily sent an emissary to beg Ne gro Piekens to let his invitation "drop for fear of doing harm." Officials in Hyannis, Mass., who last month flunked Harvard's crusty 79-year-old President-Emeritus Abbott Lawrence Lowell in a driving test (TIME, Sept. 14), gave him a new examination, announced that he had passed it, been granted a new license.

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