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

Beset by family illness and financial troubles and living on a $20-a-week dole, Charles E. ("Commando") Kelly, 36, who won the Medal of Honor after killing 40 Germans in one day on the Italian front, struck it rich on CBS's Strike It Rich. He won the show's $500 jackpot, then got $240.25 more plus an offer of the down payment on a house from sympathetic listeners. To top it all, President Eisenhower sent him a cheering message, recalling how "you rallied to the defense of your comrades," expressing pride "to see your neighbors rallying to your relief."

After his sumptuous Mt. Kisco, N.Y. home was razed by fire last spring with a $75,000 loss in art alone, Producer Billy Rose found just the thing to provide a handsome frame for his bride, onetime Movie Beauty Joyce Mathews: a 40-room, $430,000 whitestone mansion in Manhattan. Said Billy: "We'll only use about a dozen rooms to live in. Some of the 40 are servants' rooms, wine cellars, that kind of thing. It's not as frightening as it sounds."

Said Pope Pius XII to members of the Irish Pioneer Total Abstinence Association of the Sacred Heart: "Ireland is a land that combines the smile and the tear. Also, alas, what a flood of tears, drowning out the joy and laughter of home and hearth, has poured through when the dike of temperance has been shattered."

Holding onto her hat, Contralto Marian Anderson, well-armed with a rich repertory of Negro spirituals, operatic arias and just plain old songs, took off from New York's International Airport at Idlewild for Stockholm, the first stop on an eleven-week concert tour of Europe.

As his wife went under the knife for 25 minutes to have her tonsils removed, Dr. Juscelino Kubitschek, President of Brazil, put on surgical gloves, gown and mask for the first time in years, acted as assistant to the surgeon.

In a 17-page complaint to void his contract and collect damages of $142,500 plus interest, Cinemactor Ernest (Marty) Borgnine went on record to say that sudden success in the movies is not necessarily followed by sudden riches in real life. On Borgnine's last movie, the holders of his contract (Hecht-Lancaster) allegedly exercised their contractual right to pre-empt his services, then lent him out to do the same movie he was negotiating for. His contract-holders got "at least $75,000." Borgnine got $15,000. The movie: The Best Things in Life Are Free.

Back in Hollywood to display her 40-21-35 1/2 figure in the movies after displaying it in Manhattan in a record-breaking number of stills, Jayne Mansfield described her year in New York as "an intellectual phase I went through." Said Jayne: "I wore black, black, black up to my ears and went out with Oleg Cassini. You go out with the right people, everything's black, even the cars."

Briefly interrupting her vacation on the Riviera, where she has been whiling away the sunny summer weeks far from the Shah, Queen Soraya of Iran alighted at Paris' Orly Airport for a shopping binge in the French capital before returning to the Riviera to resume her vacation in queenly solitude.

When his first play, The Last Station, a taut, somber drama about the fall of Berlin in 1945, was given its world premiere at the West Berlin cultural festival, Novelist Erich Maria Remarque (All Quiet on the Western Front) received an ovation as he appeared onstage after a performance that was cheered with 30 curtain calls.

In a grey silk suit trimmed with gold-shot cuffs and lapels ("It cost $400"), Pianist Wladziu Valentino Liberace, 36, sailed for a six-week concert tour of Europe with 34 pieces of luggage including 60 complete changes of costume plus a custom-made $15,000 glass-topped piano. Meanwhile, Author Philip (Generation of Vipers) Wylie, unregenerate enemy of "momism" and of Liberace as "mom's darling boy," muttered darkly that Liberace is "a superannuated Little Lord Fauntleroy. When he came to Miami, I was going to round up every guy with any masculinity, and we were going to stone that guy to death with marshmallows."

Having won a large bundle at the races, Australian-born Harry Bridges, boss of the leftist International Longshoremen's Union, celebrated with two lady friends at a San Francisco nightclub, was set upon by two seamen when he repaired to the men's room. Bridges suffered a black eye, puffed cheekbone, kicks in the head, stomach and groin. Said Nightclub Owner Sally Stanford, famed as the onetime owner of San Francisco's flossiest brothel, after having the attackers arrested: "I was shocked at the language used by these two characters." Said Bridges: "I'm used to this."

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