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

Cinemactor Marlon (Julius Caesar) Brando, whose eccentricities have never needed jazzing up by Hollywood press-agents, confided to a United Press reporter that he is really quite normal, not the odd number the public reads about in columns and fan-magazine chronicles.

Muttered he: "Every time someone interviews me, it comes out like I'm blowing my top." Then he blew his top about U.S.

actresses ("all look alike . . . wiggling their rear ends"), television ("worse than the movies"), movies ("brutality, lust, sex and suffering"), and Americans in general ("peasant stock"). With that off his mind, Brando got back into character: "Actually, I don't give a damn." Jaime Ortiz Patino, 25, nephew of Bolivia's gold-laden tin magnate, reported to Roman police that he is minus one bride. The-vanished one: Joanne Connelly Sweeny Patino, 23, Manhattan's "most beautiful debutante" of 1948, divorced last November by Britain's former Amateur Golf Champion Robert Sweeny, who named fast-moving Dominican Playboy Porfirio Rubirosa as correspondent. A patient in a Rome clinic, where she was being treated for hypochondria and the sleeping-pill fad, Joanne, lamented young Jaime Patino, "had taken everything--all her clothes, her jewels and my jewels --and gone." In Yugoslavia, on official invitation from Marshal Tito's government, Harold C. McClellan, president of the U.S.'s National Association of Manufacturers, rubbed shoulders with the country's Communists for a fortnight, browsed through Titoland's economy, then headed home with a backward glance surprising for a capitalist. Said he: "These people believe they will eventually get all the bugs out of their system. I don't believe they will, but nobody's going to tell 'em ... They're going to find out the hard way . . . No use throwing rocks at these guys . . .

They've got guts." At a Paris railroad station, Italian Director Roberto Rossellini was photographed as he emerged from a train with his wife, Actress Ingrid Bergman, who will star in a French run of the witch-burning musical play Joan of Arc at the Stake, which Rossellini will direct. With them were their twins, Isabella and Isotta, nearly two and an armful for father, and son Robertino, four, who looked as if fee wished he'd never left Rome.

Lounging in an easy chair in the library of his Surrey estate, Britain's fireball sultan of the press, Lord Beaverbrook, who recently summed up his homilies of success in a book called Don't Trust to Luck, trotted out some more reminiscences on BBC's TV in a chat observing his 75th birthday. The Beaver paid tribute to such old departed friends as Rudyard Kipling and H. G. Wells, reaffirmed his 19th century devotion to the 19th century-brand empire. With a sentimental tremor in his voice, he closed: "This may be my last appearance on television, unless I am asked again when I am 80. Now I must go. My friends would celebrate because I am in my 76th year. A strange reason. I will celebrate, too. I won't be late. I am never late." --In a television interview with Columnist Drew Pearson, Adlai Stevenson confessed that G.O.P. foreign policy is a perplexing thing to him, often leaves him mulling over who's really running the State Department. "We sometimes wonder who the Secretary of State might be," he said. "I was going to say Secretary of State (William F.) Knowland, Secretary of State (Richard) Nixon, Secretary of State (John Foster) Dulles, leaving some state of confusion. That is what I call foreign policy by the platoon system."

In Britain, where the month of June holds the best prospect of good weather, Queen Elizabeth II, who actually turned 28 last April, celebrated her official birthday in the old monarchic tradition. Sitting sidesaddle on a big chestnut horse named Winston, and decked out in the scarlet and blue uniform of Colonel-in-Chief of the Coldstream Guards, she watched the Trooping the Color ceremony on London's Horse Guards parade ground. Later, the Queen proclaimed the fifth honors list of her reign. Among the 2,500 British and Commonwealth citizens on the roster: old (80) Author Somerset Maugham, who joined the exclusive ranks (limit: 50 members) of the Companions of Honor; sharp-tongued Poetess Edith (Facade) Sitwell, 66, now a Dame Grand Cross of the Order of the British Empire; solid Sir Gladwyn Jebb, 54, now Britain's Ambassador to France after four years as Britain's chief delegate to the U.N., a big enough man to bear the ponderous title of Knight Grand Cross of the Order of St. Michael and St. George.

Up in New Brunswick, where he was meditating while fishing, Naturalist Thornton (Old Mother West Wind stories) Burgess, 80, whose bedtime stories are in sum a 44-year chase of Peter Rabbit, who always manages to evade Reddy Fox by a hare's breadth, confided that Peter will never be caught unless it's over Burgess' dead body. "There will never be a tragedy in the Burgess bedtime stories," said he feelingly, with a deep sense of his mission. "Tragedy comes into a child's life soon enough."

Pictured beaming out from under their mantillas at a bullfight in a Madrid arena were two lovely exponents of greater Hispanola, Carmen, Marquesa de Villaverde, 27, toothsome daughter of Spain's Dictator Francisco Franco, and Maria de Los Angeles Trujillo, 15, whose father is the Dominican Republic's equally strong man.

TV Quizmaster Groucho (You Bet Your Life) Marx, collar up, slouch hat down, landed at London Airport, beat off autograph hounds, then was besieged by newsmen. Asked one: "Why haven't you visited London for 23 years?" Growled Groucho: "To avoid newspapermen. You can call me the male Greta Garbo." With that, he loped off into the rain.

Away out yonder in Missouri, Harry Truman gratefully accepted $6,200 from his Independence neighbors as a contribution toward building his projected $1,750,000 Truman Library, which will house his mountain of personal papers and other Trumaniana. He was especially pleased to contemplate such a shrine in the U.S.

heartland. Reason: "Up to now, the people who live east of the Appalachians believe if you go west of the mountains everyone has horns and a tail." Rhode Island's courtly Senator Theodore Francis Green, who has been in Washington since 1937, announced that he would run for another term, despite his age--86. If he serves another term, Green could break the longevity record set by Virginia's Carter Glass, who died while in office at 88.

While taking his ease at an inn in Genoa, Author Ernest Hemingway paused over his coffee and wine when asked about his brush with crocodiles and treetops during his two recent African plane crashes, then recalled his pain with a curdled face for the benefit of a photographer. Reported title of Papa's forthcoming African memoirs: Gin Is Not for Little Children.

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