Determined as any White Citizens Council president to keep the bloodlines pure, frolicsome, Cambridge-educated King Freddie, Kabaka of Buganda (pop. about 1,500,000) in the British protectorate of Uganda, moved swiftly to preserve black supremacy. Days after younger brother Prince Henry, 31, had defied a sibling caveat and married 17-year-old Carol Ann Whitey. a Bournemouth art student, Freddie's parliament notified the bridegroom: "As you have married an English girl, neither your children nor your grandchildren can be recognized as being in the direct line of succession to the Kabakaship."

Lightly togged in a skintight cream-colored dress--and little else--Cinemactress Marilyn Monroe bantered breathlessly with windswept Chicago newsmen on a potpourri of familiar topics. On underwear: "I have no prejudice against it." Sex: "How do I know about man's need for a sex symbol? I'm a girl. Sex counts like everything else. I'd never discount it." Press conferences: "Occasionally it's fun. Sometimes I can even get a chance to find out what I'm thinking."

Manhattan's select, intellectually kinetic Cosmopolitan Club for Women last week accepted its first Negro member: Contralto Marian Anderson.

The jaunty smile flickered with nervous awe as Boulevardier Maurice Chevalier, 70, at the end of a San Juan engagement, paid a respectful call on Cellist Pablo Casals, 82. The two had never met, although Casals recalled admiring a Chevalier performance in 1904. For nearly an hour two of the youngest old men in music chatted warmly in French--mostly on the glories of age. Then Casals announced: "Now I will play for you." Chevalier swallowed, blinked, finally wept openly as his host hunched over his instrument and played The Song of the Birds, a Catalan folk melody and unofficial anthem of exiled Catalans that Casals performs at the end of every recital. Sobbed Maurice: "Quelle beaute, quelle beaute." With a flurry of farewells, and clutching an autographed photo ("To Maurice Chevalier, whom the world loves and admires for his art. simple and touching"), Chevalier hurried off to catch his plane.

The selection was made by Mom and Dad. but Japan's bubbly Princess Suga, 20-year-old sister of Prince Akihito, had no objections. Some time this fall, the imperial household announced, Suga will wed a childhood friend, gangly Hisanaga Shimazu, 25. bank clerk, scion of a blue-blooded family and a classmate of Akihito's at the Gakushuin (Peers' School). According to custom. Hisanaga had called on his future father-in-law, who will build the newlyweds a house and provide a $42,000 dowry. And what, asked newsmen, had the Emperor said? "He just asked me to take good care of his daughter."

At Kansas City's Ivanhoe Temple, brethren of the Scottish Rite donned their fraternal regalia to honor 33rd Degree Member Harry S. Truman, 50 years a Freemason.

WELL, IF IT ISN'T GRANNY IN TIGHTS, leered the London Daily Herald. LEGS, panted the Daily Mail. What excited Fleet Street was a novel slice of cheesecake: pert, serious Cinemactress Vivien Leigh, wife of Sir Laurence Olivier, and a grandmother at 45. Last week trim Lady Olivier slipped on a red satin bathing suit and black mesh stockings, made a slinky, twittery TV debut as Sabina, the talkative, never-say-die seductress-maid in Thornton Wilder's The Skin of Our Teeth. Critical verdict: Vivien once more proved that good legs are a ho-hum show's best means of support.

Moody, promising Cinemactress Diane (Peyton Place) Varsi, with two husbands behind her at 21, collected her 2 1/2-year-old son Shawn and a wicker suitcase of possessions, flew off to settle in Vermont. Snapped troubled Diane: "I just don't want to act any more. I find it destructive to me. I don't ever plan to return to Hollywood." Hoping otherwise, 20th Century-Fox, which has title to almost five more years of Diane's services, gave her an indefinite leave of absence.

Back to foggy London after a month of Nassau sun, Elder (70) Poet Thomas Stearns Eliot and his youngish (32) wife (and former secretary) Valerie disembarked from the Queen Mary boat train. "It was glorious there," mused Eliot to a waiting Daily Mailman. "We had the place practically to ourselves. There was some young film star chap. Can't think of his name." Prompted Valerie: "It was Gary Cooper, dear."

Before a House Government Operations subcommittee, salty, short-fused Vice Admiral Hyman G. Rickover exploded with a touching plea. Unless Congress mows down the growing underbrush of Pentagon committees, he warned, "we will wind up with all committees and no work done. Our people have no time to do their work, for fighting committees. We need some protection." Lest anyone misunderstand, Rickover noted an exception: congressional committees are just dandy.

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