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

After ten months of career-dictated separation from her husband, Actress Ingrid Bergman, starring in Tea and Sympathy in Paris, sped to Orly Airport and into the arms of Director Roberto Rossellini, returning from India, where he made some documentary films and some undocumented headlines with exotic Script Girl Sonali Das Gupta. Sonali's husband is now threatening to jettison her. For the same reason, Indian officials once indicated that they believed Rossellini had abused their country's hospitality, if not Sonali's. Did all this ruckus portend a divorce for the Rossellinis? Snorted paunchy Roberto: "Absolute nonsense!" Burbled Ingrid: "Isn't any wife in love with her husband happy to have him home after such a long absence?"

After dining with friends at one of France's best-known groaning boards, Maxim's in Paris, Monaco's Prince Rainier III, still sporting his summer crop of chin whiskers, and Princess Grace, radiantly pregnant, were all abeam. Grace's second child (all Monaco is praying for a boy) is duer in March. Next stopovers for the Grimaldis: London and then New York City.

"Every time Robert Frost comes to town," wrote the New York Times's Washington bureau chief, James ("Scotty") Reston, "the Washington Monument stands up a little straighter." Flinty old (83) Poet Frost proved to Pundit Reston that he is no slacker at punditry himself. Frost welcomes the struggle and decision-making that make life tough--and neither the Russians, nor their satellites (terrestrial or spatial) upset him a bit: "We ought to enjoy a standoff. Let it stand and deepen in meaning. Let's not be hasty about showdowns. Let's be patient and confident with our country." As optimistic as he is individualistic, Robert Frost summed up his poet's-eye view of the U.S.: "I stand here at the window and try to figure out whether American men or women swing their arms more freely. There cannot be much to fear in a country where there are so many right faces going by. I keep asking myself where they all come from, and I keep thinking that maybe God was just making them up new around the next corner."

Accompanying Ike to Manhattan for his speech to medical educators (see MEDICINE), Mamie Eisenhower passed up the banquet for My Fair Lady. Ike's speech finished, he whizzed over to Broadway, slipped into the darkened theater in time to join Mamie for the final 40 minutes. Recognized by few in the audience, Ike and the First Lady left just before the final curtain, were outside being cheered by a crowd when Stage Manager Biff Liff came on stage and wrongly announced their presence inside. Next afternoon, Mamie saw Auntie Mame, dropped backstage at intermission to greet her old friend Rosalind Russell for tea, cookies and "girl talk."

The heir apparent to Norway's throne, Crown Prince Harold, 20, also eventually destined to be the supreme commander of the Norwegian armed forces, rose a notch in his country's army. He was promoted to sergeant.

Some hitherto unpublished poems of Stephen (The Red Badge of Courage) Crane, discovered in a saddlebag he had used during the Spanish-American War, were put into circulation (The Poetry of Stephen Crane; Columbia University; $5). The belated literary legacy is mostly melancholy. Sample of short-lived (1871-1900) Poet Crane's new-found works:

A grey and boiling street Alive with rickety noise. Suddenly, a hearse, Trailed by black carriages Takes a deliberate way Through this chasm of commerce; And children look eagerly To find the misery behind the shades, Hired men, impatient, drive with a longing To reach quickly the graveside, the end of solemnity. Yes, let us have it over. Drive, man, drive. Flog your sleek-hided beasts, Gallop-gallop-gallop. Let us finish it quickly.

The states'-rightist ex-governor of Texas, Allan Shivers, erstwhile Democrat-for-Eisenhower and now board chairman of Western Pipe Line, Inc., blasted both major political parties because they "offer very little choice to the conservative in government." Shivers hopes for a party realignment along clear-cut principles. The liberals should espouse "strong centralized government, semi-socialist in nature, dedicated to the theory that, since God helps those who help themselves, the Government ought to take care of the rest." His view of the conservatives' ideal position: "A minimum, rather than a maximum, of Government controls of any kind, with the necessary controls applied as close to home as possible."

Ostensibly angered by the angry attacks of Britain's Playwright John (Look Back in Anger) Osborne upon the monarchy, e.g., "a fatuous industry," the headmaster of Osborne's old public school, Belmont College, took a peculiar means of avenging the royal family. Belmont's head, a retired major named Anthony Reynolds--in what most Britons regarded as an unconscionable breach of confidence --began to blather a tawdry tale of Alumnus Osborne's school days. Sample of the fairly silly tidbits: Young John, when he was 13 back in 1943, was the "original Teddy boy," who "started a reign of terror through the school," broke bounds, smuggled apple cider and once even slapped the former head (giving as good as he got) "to the utter confusion of the whole place."

Polio's worst enemy, Dr. Jonas Salk, 43, a strong runner-up for the Nobel Prize in medicine (see SCIENCE), learned that he will soon get an impressive token of acclaim. The University of Pittsburgh announced that it will buy (for $1,300,000) Pittsburgh's Municipal Hospital and rename it Jonas Salk Hall. The ten-story building will become Dr. Salk's operating base for his direction of the new Institute of Experimental Medicine.

The far-ranging lone wolf of Mexican art, Painter Rufino Tamayo, his country's greatest modernist, has never hesitated to deliver outspoken blasts at Marxism. In Mexico's Red-dominated art world, this earned him some formidable foes; chief among them, naturalistic Muralist Diego Rivera. Just as they, clashed over politics, Communist Rivera and Tamayo, who wears no political label, disagreed about art: Tamayo shied away from Rivera's hard-lined propagandist works, and Rivera had no love for Tamayo's warm-toned semiabstractions. For 20 years the two artists have exchanged few kind words. Last week Tamayo, 57, soon to depart for Puerto Rico and projects that may keep him away from Mexico for two years, decided to make peace with ailing Rivera, now 70. After an hour's hatchet-burying at Rivera's Mexico City home, Tamayo reported that they are still at odds over ideology and art, "but there is no more personal animosity."

Folks who have wondered how neutral a neutralist can get got an ultimate answer from India's Jawaharlal Nehru. In a fantastic bit of purblind observation, the Great Neutral assured a worried world: "People who talk about Communist revolutions are--if I may say so--out of date. So-called international Communism does not really exist today."

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