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

New York State's Daughters of the American Revolution took New York City officials to task for abbreviating the name of George Washington on highway signs leading to the 3,500-ft. trans-Hudson suspension bridge that is his namesake. Infuriated by such bridge guides as "Geo. Washington," "George Wash." and "Geo. Wash.." the D.A.R. snapped, somewhat raffishly: "After all, he was the first President and all--and we'd like the works!"

In a specially equipped operating room at Buckingham Palace, Prince Charles, 8. had his tonsils and adenoids out.

The world's long-distance prattling champion, Columnist Elsa Maxwell, 73, gave bemused Roman newshawks a dazzling sample of her art. Of her erstwhile enemy, the Duchess of Windsor: "My friend again!" Of her erstwhile friend, Monaco's Princess Grace: "Don't talk to me about that girl!" Of Grace's Prince Rainier III: "He's stuffed with decorations and hot air! I disapprove of Grace's marriage to a man without spirit or personality!" Of Italy's Cinemorsel Gina Lollobrigida: "Too obvious and never really sexy." Of Sophia Loren: "Sexy, very sexy, all sexy, the sexiest on earth." Of Marilyn Monroe: "A puppy, a kitten, a little chick!" Of Composer Cole Porter and Prince Aly Khan: "I don't know love, but for them I felt something more than friendship. Maybe it was really and truly love! If I were 40 years younger. . ." Then, snapping that she "hates gossip," Elsa bade arivederci to all and steamed up to Milan. There she fell into the trem ulous arms of volcanic Prima Donna Maria Meneghini Callas, last year's enemy, this year's bosom pal. Of Maria: "A fascinating creature . . . the greatest singing actress of our time."

At a morning coffee in Texas' 102-year-old executive mansion, Democratic Governor Price Daniel nearly got plastered. While chatting with some 100 lady guests, Daniel was almost conked by a ton of collapsed ceiling, but carried on as host with stalwart aplomb.

Britain's art circles, as well as common folk beyond the esthetic perimeters, were stewing and snarling about a 6-ft. portrait of Prince Philip, the work of Italy's able Pietro Annigoni and the most debated sensation of the Royal Academy's new exhibition. Cried the London Daily Mall's critic: "If he really is like that, I shouldn't like to meet him in the dark." Rasped the Daily Mirror: "A very good pavement artist's job." "I wonder what the Queen thinks of [it]," mused the Star's observer. "It is of a husband as no wife likes to see him--cold, aloof, almost arrogant." Away from the storm in his Florence studio. Painter Annigoni backed down not a whit: "I painted him as I saw him. During the sitting he was severe; he showed a strong will, and he was definitely not a man of society."

Costumed for the male title role in the opera Orpheus and Eurydice, Metropolitan Opera Mezzo-Soprano Rise Stevens, boyish as her curves permitted, was in the midst of a picture-taking session. A delivery man, bystanding in the studio, ogled Rise doubtfully, then turned to Diva Stevens' husband-manager, Walter Surovv. Sensing some bond between Rise and Surovy, the workman asked: "Excuse me, but is that your brother?" Deadpanned Surovy solemnly: "Yes, that's my brother Charlie. And we have a twelve-year-old son named Nicky."

Globetrotting Peter Townsend, ex-suitor of Britain's Princess Margaret, was expected to come out of Red China this week after a two-week visit "just to see the place." Official Red carpets unrolled for him everywhere, but Townsend kept insisting: "I'm not interested in politics."

Blowing into Houston and outspeaking her customarily outspoken husband, Mrs. Charles E. Wilson, wife of the Secretary of Defense, resolutely shucked off efforts to turn her from defending "Engine Charlie." Of her stiff rebuttal to the White House in the recent "National Guard dispute" involving Wilson and Ike (TIME, Feb. 11), Jessie allowed: "If I had not said anything, I would have gone on getting more ulcers." More light on the subject: "I have had three ulcers in the last two years--and I felt good, fine, with never a sign of trouble, until we went to Washington." Her plan for 66-year-old Charlie Wilson: retirement very soon.

In his new The Art of the Dramatist, Britain's far-ranging Author J. B. Priestly spoke pity for himself and others seeking to write realistic plays about "contemporary English people." J. B.'s frothy lament: "Unlike the almost hysterically dramatic Americans, the imaginatively articulate Irish, the pointed and witty French, the English are not on the dramatist's side ... All their drama is hidden away inside their heads, lost in their secret dreams. Just when they ought to speak out. either they mumble something commonplace or walk away. It is as if you had to devise a whole banquet out of rice pudding and stewed pears."

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