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

The scene: a smoke-filled nook in the grill of Chicago's Democrat-bulged Sheraton-Blackstone Hotel. Dining together are Kentucky's blackhorse presidential candidate, guffaw-prone Governor Albert B. ("Be lucky, go Happy!") Chandler, and Chicago's weighty Democratic Boss Jacob Arvey. Enter, with a dust-devilish swoop, Washington's plain-spoken Hostess-with-Mostes' Perle Mesta. Grandam Mesta (to Chandler): I hear that you are running for President, but you certainly aren't taking yourself seriously, are you? "Happy" Chandler (hurt to the quick): I certainly am. I'm spending my own money, and I'm no fool. You know what they said about the man who sat down at the piano, don't you? . . . Stranger guys than I have lived in the White House! Perle: Who are they? Happy (in miserable evasion): I'm working as hard as I can for this because I feel the people want me. Perle: Why don't you stay down in Kentucky where you belong? Happy (very unhappily): And why don't you go back to Washington? (Photographers hear the harsh pleasantries and rush in; Happy and Perle quickly smile, teeth gritted.) Happy: I am very serious about this. (Pause). Why don't you run with me? You'd make a damn good Vice President! Perle (chuckling as she sheathes her talons): I've got as much chance of being Vice President as you have of being President! (She exits with a flounce.) Boss Arvey sighs uncomfortably; the smoke descends like a curtain.

On a movie location in Spain, Italy's voluptuous Cinemactress Sophia Loren, unkempt and grimy, looked more appealing as a child of the earth than in more familiar rig as a child of luxury. While the cameras whirred, Sophia, in the role of a hell-for-dirt girl guerrilla, had just helped a motley band of actors drag a 3-ton artillery piece through rain and a morass of real mud.

G.O.P. officials proudly announced that burro-voiced Tunesmith Irving Berlin will personally bray a ditty of his at their San Francisco convention. Title of Composer Berlin's official convention song: Four More Years.

One of the dedicated summer-school students at Yale University's Shakespeare Institute was none other than Eugene R. Black, 58 (TIME, June 25), taking an academic breather from his globe-hopping job as president of the world's best-heeled lending agency, the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (capital: $9 billion). Lounging under a campus elm, Scholar Black said: "Shakespeare had great knowledge of human nature, economics and politics . . . Often, knowledge of these subjects comes in handy today."

The most astringent member of the opposition to Adlai Stevenson, his exwife, Republican Ellen Borden Stevenson, fiftyish,* gaily allowed that she still likes Ike and will vote the G.O.P. ticket this year "particularly if Adlai is the Democratic candidate." To show why she stands four-square against Adlai, Arts Patroness Stevenson plans to bring out a splenetic polemic on Oct. 1. It will not exactly be a book but "really more of a pamphlet." Title: The Egghead and I. Anticipating the royalties that will go to her arts salon on Chicago's Gold Coast, Ellen Stevenson loudly purred: "I think it's going to be terrific. We should make quite a bit of money on it, don't you think?"

In Paris. Independent Moviemaker Darryl Zanuck disclosed that he hankers to make a film about Marine Staff Sergeant Matthew McKeon, now awaiting review of his sentence (TIME, April 23 et seq.) for drinking in barracks and simple negligence in the death of six marine boots. Matt McKeon, "if he's available," would not appear in the movie, but would be asked to join the production as a technical adviser. Glowed World War II Army Lieut. Colonel Zanuck: "It's a hell of a good story. It can be instructive, and it can glorify the Marine Corps."

On the eve of his 82nd birthday and of his "third farewell address" to the Republican Convention next week, Herbert Hoover, oldest ex-President in more than a century,* had little to say about politics but was free with advice to fellow oldsters. Still elbowing through the crammed agenda of a twelve-hour workday, Hoover explained his philosophy of late life: "There is no joy to be had from retirement except by some kind of productive work. Otherwise, you degenerate into talking to everybody about your pains and pills and income tax. Any oldster who keeps at even part-time work has something worthwhile talking about. He has a zest for the morning paper and his three meals a day. The point of all this is not to retire from work or you will shrivel up into a nuisance to all mankind."

* Says Ellen: ''I'm many years younger than the old man." Stevenson is 56.

* James Madison died at 85 in 1836, was second among long-lived Presidents to John Adams, who reached 90 before dying July 4, 1826 (on the same day as Thomas Jefferson, 83).

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