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

The world's noisiest lovebirds, Cinemactress Zsa Zsa Gabor, whose California divorce from Cinemactor George Sanders will become final next April, and Dominican Playboy Porfirio Rubirosa, who will be divorced by Heiress Barbara Hutton in Paris any month now, flew separately from the U.S. to Paris and immediately began a well-publicized twittering.

With some 30 newsmen and photographers in tow, Zsa Zsa, got up in a man-killing black ensemble, glided into a flossy Montparnasse bistro and cornered her pomaded prey. As the cameras converged on him, Rubirosa snarled at the photographers: "You'll not take any pictures of me with Miss Gabor." Actress Gabor, making the most of a big emotional scene, quietly began to cry. Unmoved, Rubirosa curled his lip and told her: "Get out! I don't need you!" Zsa Zsa went--by taxi straight to Rubirosa's Paris home, where she was a house guest. By late next afternoon, their little spat was lost in a welter of cooing. Zsa Zsa, looking wan but well, cantered off with Rubi for a pastoral horseback ride through the burgeoning Bois de Boulogne.

After a vacation in Key West, Fla., Playwright Tennessee (A Streetcar Named Desire) Williams passed through an old locale of his, New Orleans, and announced that all his work had resulted in some play. Title of his latest: Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

A member of Italy's Chamber of Deputies casually inquired of Premier Mario Scelba if he "intends to ask the U.S. Government for an act of clemency" in behalf of the pixilated U.S. poet, Ezra (Pisan Cantos) Pound, 68. After more than 30 years as an expatriate. Pound began spouting the Fascist line for Mussolini in World War II broadcasts from Rome and Milan. But it was hard to define just what might constitute "clemency" for Pound. In 1945 he escaped trial for treason because he was adjudged insane, and has since whiled away his declining years translating Confucius in a Washington, D.C. mental hospital.

Comic Jimmy Durante, who once carried $100,000 worth of insurance on his celebrated nose, had reason to regret letting the policy lapse. While rehearsing a TV show with Schmaltz Pianist Liberace, Jimmy had a long-overdue accident, best described in his own words: "There's this piano scene. I'm playin' a duet wit Liberace. So I hits two notes, he hits two notes. Then I say, 'In a competition, you got to use all your weapons.' So I starts to play wit my nose. So Liberace comes over and accidentally touches the piano-key lid and it comes down on my nose." Sadly stroking his bandaged pride & joy, Durante murmured: "A mortifyin' experience . . ."

India's Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, who holds that "the spectacle of what is called religion . . . has filled me with horror," exposed himself to the spectacle again last week and proceeded to horrify the devout. At the dedication of a new textile-industries research building in the city of Ahmadabad, Nehru grew stone-faced when a Brahman priest placed a tilaka mark on his forehead. The priest chanted some monotonous slokas, and Nehru began to fidget in annoyance. The Brahman then grasped the Prime Minister's shoulders and asked him to touch the wall of the building in a ceremonial gesture of blessing. At this, Nehru angrily brushed the priest aside and rasped: "I cannot stand this business!" Later, in his dedication speech, Nehru, with even more fervor than usual, told his audience that India's "old superstitions" are an evil that must be rooted out.

Making plans to hang out his lawyer's shingle in Chicago this fall, Adlai Stevenson was troubled again by his old kidney ailment, canceled several speeches, eased himself into a Chicago hospital bed, early this week had a successful operation.

Britain's Princess Margaret laid aside her mink coat, put on a white overall and helmet, descended a quarter-mile into a coal mine near Nottingham. Chipping off a lump of coal with a pickax, she said: "I'll have to get this mounted!" When a cutting machine wafted some coal dust into her mouth, the miners beamed as the princess cried, "It tastes delicious!"

Duke University's faculty, by a secret vote of 61 to 42, turned thumbs down on Vice President Richard Nixon (Duke Law School '37), one of several nominees for an honorary Doctor of Laws degree. Later, Nixon turned thumbs down on an invitation to be Duke's ommencement speaker this June. His reason: too much to do in Washington.

An approving audience of Y.M.C.A. members heard New Jersey's handsome bachelor Governor Robert B. Meyner, 46, trace the problem of juvenile delinquency down to some unattractive roots. "The modern ideal of feminine perfection," said Democrat Meyner, "seems to be a punk actress with platinum hair and an overstuffed bosom. The ideal of manhood is a character who toots a horn and smokes marijuana." The governor's battle cry: "What we need are fewer Aly Khans and [Porfirio] Rubirosas and more Daniel Boones and Horatio Algers."

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