Out of the shadows, sage advice.

"What do retired U.S. Presidents do?" asked a lady some years back. "Madam, we spend our time taking pills and dedi cating libraries," explained the most venerable expert on the subject, Herbert Hoover, 31st U.S. President, as he helped the 33rd, Harry Truman, dedicate his presidential library at Independence, Mo.

Last week Truman was on hand to lead a crowd of 30,000 in singing Happy Birthday as Hoover, marking his 88th year, returned to his grass-roots birthplace at West Branch, Iowa (pop. 1,053), to dedicate his own library, the fourth presidential library created by Congress (others: Roosevelt's at Hyde Park, N.Y., Eisenhower's at Abilene, Kans.). But on this occasion, an ex-President did more than ribbon-snip. Speaking "as the shadows gather around me," Hoover took the United Nations to task. The world organization was racked by the "disintegrating forces" of the Communist nations, said the grand old Republican, and so he proposed a standby "Council of Free Nations" that would step in, with military force if necessary, "when the U.N. is prevented from taking action, or if it fails to act to preserve peace." When the pilot touched the single-engined Beechcraft Bonanza down at Newfoundland's Gander airport and began discussing a flight plan, the officials were horrified. They surely would not permit Marion Hart, 70, to fly the Atlantic to Ireland. They wouldn't even let her have gas or weather reports. So she simply picked up what news she could about the weather from jetliner captains ("One pilot said it was nice and steady, but even he didn't seem to be very happy on less than four jets"), and gassed up at a small field. Then it was off across the ocean, with her navigator, a 49-year-old spinster, charting the route. Eleven hours and 1,828 miles later, the Beechcraft buzzed into Shannon. No reason to fret, said Mrs. Hart, who learned to fly at 53 --after all, she had done it all before nine years ago.

Wearing the rosette of the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor in proper deference to his host. Tourist Dwight Eisenhower visited Paris' Elysee Palace to pay a call on an old comrade-in-arms. France's President Charles de Gaulle was waiting on the steps with a rare smile and a warm "cher ami." Then the two old warriors, both 71, went inside to lunch with 14 guests, including U.S. Ambassador James Gavin. "It was a quiet, small, very friendly, almost a family affair," reported Mrs. Gavin. Flying on across the channel for more of the same, Ike lunched at Buckingham Palace with Queen Elizabeth, paid a 15-minute visit to another wartime companion, recuperating Sir Winston Churchill, 87, who broke out the brandy (but, Ike noted, failed to fire up one of his famous cigars). Said Ike: "He looks like the same old Winston, alert and interested in things."

As a gleaming Cadillac appeared on the cliff-hanging road from Amalfi, shouts of "Presidentessa Kennedy" rocked the medieval clifftop town of Ravello, once a haunt of Europe's rich and noble but now a quieter resort of 2,500 population. Before long, vacationing Jacqueline Kennedy and Daughter Caroline were settled in Villa Sangro, the 11th century house rented by Sister Lee Radziwill, and then it was off to the beach. Jackie whizzed out into the choppy bay behind an Italian navy speedboat, holding Caroline on the water skis ahead of her. It was great sport for 100 yards--until mother and daughter nosedived into the water. An afternoon's outing to swim at a public beach drew an escort of a navy cutter and two police launches, which tried futilely to keep the omnipresent photographers at a distance. "We have never failed." trumpeted the leader of the long-lensed paparazzi pack; and Jackie graciously consented to pose, hoping they would take it a little easier in the future. As the picture-snappers closed in, Caroline snapped right back with a toy camera --from the shutter popped a juicy red tongue emitting an unmistakable Bronx cheer.

While his 51 -in. waistline does suggest a dirigible, Comedian Jackie Gleason never travels by plane, and sometimes even feels the squeeze on the train. Crossing the country to Hollywood two months ago to make a movie aptly titled Papa's Delicate Condition, Jackie found his rail accommodations of several drawing rooms much too cramped, and on his arrival pronounced himself "embarrassed" at the lack of space. So for his return to Manhattan, ample Jack went whole hog, rented an entire seven-car train (including three club cars) from several railroads and rolled out of Los Angeles last week in imperial style. Price of the ticket for Gleason, 45 "pals," including six dancing girls and a six-piece Dixieland jazzband aboard what the banners proclaim THE GREAT GLEASON EXPRESS: $90,OOO.

Their five children have grown up and left their Connecticut home. Now the shy, long-seclusive Lone Eagle, Charles A. Lindbergh, 60, and his authoress wife Anne Morrow, 56, are building an aerie high on the vineyard-studded slopes of Corsier above Switzerland's Lake Geneva; just below is the villa of Charlie Chaplin, who also enjoys the secluded life. But it will be a year before the two are neighbors. All that is completed on the one-acre plot commanding a view that will please his aviator's eye is the wall that Lindy wants around his future home.

After nine knock-around years of marriage, Auto Heir Horace E. Dodge Jr. (age, 62; weight, 180) filed suit for divorce from Gregg Sherwood Dodge (age. 38; weight. 130), charging that she kicked and slapped him to the point that he feared "for his safety and existence." Her answer was a double-taker: "He's afraid of me physically? I can hardly lift him off the floor."

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