Yugoslavia's Marshal Tito, accustomed over recent months to editorial broadsides in the Soviet press, became the target of a gossip item in Moscow's Literary Gazette. The paper reported that Tito was in the clutches of an alluring "American spy"--sleek, slinky-eyed Zinka Milanov, 43, onetime Metropolitan Opera star and since 1947 the wife of Ljubomir Ilic, one of Tito's generals. Pooh-poohed Zinka from Belgrade: "It's just silly."

Lewis Douglas, U.S. Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, took a Manchester audience into his confidence on the subject of his daughter, Sharman, 21, who shares with her close friend, Princess Margaret, a liking for the gay social whirl. Confessed Douglas: "My daughter is quite beyond me. There is little I can say about her."

Playwright Tennessee Williams, who walked out on an M-G-M writing job before his Broadway success, returned to Manhattan from a second stint in Hollywood. "I had a lovely time," said Williams. "It isn't such a bad place, really." His assignment: writing a screen play from his stage hit, The Glass Menagerie. His latest experience: "I worked with [Warner Producer] Jerry Wold. We get along perfectly. We were in complete agreement on every point . . . Well, we did have to compromise on an ending. They wanted what they call an upbeat ending. I didn't see how I could do it, but, of course, I realized that if I didn't, someone else would . . . There's no use going out there with a chip on your shoulder. After all, it is an industry."

Novelist Lillian (Strange Fruit) Smith explained why so much Southern writing is so good: "It's because people there have suffered more."

The Philadelphia Phillies wrangled with an insurance company over whether First Baseman Eddie Waitkus ought to get injury compensation for the bullet wound he got from a demented bobby-soxer last June. The ball club argued that Eddie was only doing "his proper duty in public relations" when he went to the girl's hotel room in the belief that she was from his home town and needed help.

The New Slant

Novelist-Playwright Anita Loos was making the most of a good thing. Having cleaned up over $1,500,000 on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes as a magazine sketch (1924), a first novel (1925), a play (1926) and a movie (1928), she had collaborated with Playwright Joseph Fields to turn it into a musicomedy. As rehearsals began in Manhattan, a photographer recorded an unrehearsed resemblance between Author Loos and the 1949 version of her heroine, up & coming Comedienne Carol (Lend an Ear) Channing.

Little (pop. 900) Medina, N. Dak., which pronounces the name to rhyme with "refiner," got ready to vote on a proposal to change its pronunciation to rhyme with "arena," as a tribute to Federal Judge Harold R. Medina, who presided over the recent trial of eleven U.S. Communist big shots.

Broadway Star Mary (South Pacific) Martin, topped by a haircut that resembles a scrap of Persian lamb, stole the show at a Manhattan benefit for an animal hospital. Though her own dog was home sick, she picked up a perfect understudy--Coky, a miniature French poodle with a hairdo to match her own.

Scheduled to fly to the U.S. this month on an official visit, swarthily handsome young (30) Mohamed Reza Pahlevi, the Shah of Persia, made some occidental preparations. He hired a pressagent, white-haired Henry Suydam, who took a leave as chief editorial writer for the Newark Evening News and began setting them up in Washington's National Press Club.

Comedian Paul Silvers and wife Jo Carroll Dennison agreed on a temporary separation: she took a "bachelor" apartment, and he went home to his mother-in-law, "who understands me better than anyone else in the world."

British sewing circles went into a tizzy when a news photograph of Princess Elizabeth's private desk showed an ash tray and what looked like a cigarette box. The London Daily Express speculated whether the princess smoked in secret. Ready to believe the worst, a crestfallen spokesman for the National Society of Non-Smokers announced: "The society isn't downhearted, of course; we just have to work harder."

First-nighters at the San Francisco Opera Company's flossy opening night blinked at an unprecedented sight: Jimmy ("Schnozzola") Durante making his debut in an opera audience. As Manon Lescaut wore on, Durante complained to a companion: "I can't understand a thing they're saying--is the acoustics bad in here?" During intermission, Durante reported later, he rubbed elbows with socialites. "I had to rub elbows," he explained. "Nobody would shake hands with me."

The Old Gang

Arriving in Manhattan, Britain's crusty old (70) Conductor Sir Thomas Beecham had undergone no sea change. He planned a concert and lecture tour in the U.S. and Canada, including four stops in Texas, where, he intoned, "Western culture has arrived at its highest peak." Having disposed of these kind words, he turned on modern classical music: "A continuous succession of promissory notes. Composers are always promising but only keep on promising." What about bebop? Snapped Sir Thomas: " What the devil is that?"

In Hollywood, Annette Kellerman, who was arrested in Boston 40 years ago for introducing the one-piece bathing suit, was scandalized at the trend she had set in motion. Still trim at 62, she said: "Bathing suits were lovely until last year when they brought out those diapers. They're vulgar and suggestive. Heavens! What will they be wearing in 1952?"

Balding Eagle Charles A. Lindbergh, 47, sometime adviser to the U.S. Air Force, made one of his increasingly rare appearances before a camera lens. He was snapped at an air-ground demonstration at Grafenwoehr, Germany, chatting with Lieut. General John K. Cannon, U.S. Air Force commander in Europe.

Composer Sigmund (Lover, Come Back to Me) Romberg, 62, miffed at the absence of good music on television programs, lamented: "You just see girls jumping up & down."

Mrs. Clara Clemens Samassoud, daughter of Samuel (Mark Twain) Clemens, sued Columbia Pictures for $300,000 for filming his The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, as "a corny love story."

A seven-foot marble statue of Mormon Brigham Young lay crated in Washington awaiting a decision on just where it would be set up in the Capitol's "Hall of Fame." Sculptor Mahonri M. Young, a grandson* of the Mormon leader, wanted it to go in a small alcove just off the main rotunda. Utah sponsors wanted it in the rotunda. But, objected the sculptor, the only spot available there is impossible: the statue would be right off the entrance to the ladies' rest room.

* One of more than 300 grandchildren. Brigham Young had 56 children by a score of wives.

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