Actor Peter Lawford, 39, and his wife Patricia Kennedy Lawford, 41, have been separated by geography for a number of months. Pat has been living on Manhattan's upper Fifth Avenue, also known as Kennedy Row, tending their three children, while her husband pursues his film career in Hollywood. Now, according to a close family source, Roman Catholics Peter and Pat have decided, after eleven years of marriage, to make the separation permanent and legal.

A shiny vinyl raincoat shielded her from the foggy, foggy dew as Folk Singer Joan Baez, 24, strummed and sang to 1,000 British pacifists who had marched behind her from London's Marble Arch to Trafalgar Square to protest the war in Viet Nam. Twanged Joan: "The Second World War, it came to an end / We overcame the Germans, and then we were friends / For their murdered six millions--in the ovens they fried / The Germans now too have God on their side." What these brutally tasteless lyrics had to do with Viet Nam was not quite clear, but the rally --staged by the recently dormant Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and the Committee of 100--did not seem to mind. Afterward the crowd fanned out toward 10 Downing Street, the U.S. embassy and the office of the Red Chinese charge d'affaires, delivering letters demanding an immediate end to practically everything.

Because 59 of the 164 graduating cadets went on to become generals, the West Point class of 1915 is known as "the class the stars fell on." Five of them, of course, fell on Dwight D. Eisenhower, 74, who returned to the Point last weekend to celebrate his 50th reunion, and take part in groundbreaking ceremonies for a $110 million expansion program that will boost enrollment from 2,500 to 4,417 by 1973.

Strolling the campus, Ike found the academy unchanged "except for more equipment." Then he spotted Cadet Carl R. ("Rollie") Stichweh, who quarterbacked the Black Knights to a rousing 11-8 victory over Navy last fall. Grinned Ike: "Good game, Rollie!"

Ill lay: U.S. Treasurer Kathryn O. Granahan, 69, in serious condition following removal of a blood clot from her brain, at Fitzgerald Mercy Hospital in Upper Darby, Pa.; former Secretary of State Christian A. Herter, 70, in Manhattan's Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center recovering from surgery to correct a ballooning blood vessel in the abdomen; Viscount Linley, 3, son of Princess Margaret and the Earl of Snowdon, in London's Hospital for Sick Children, following a minor ear operation; Comedian Mort Sahl, 38, recuperating at his Beverly Hills home after an operation in Hollywood's Cedars of Lebanon Hospital to remove a nonmalignant growth from his larynx. "It's evolution," wrote the temporarily speechless Mort on a slip of paper, "if we don't protest enough, we lose our voices."

Beards of a feather? Not really. The beard on the new Cuban 13-centavo stamp belonged not to Fidel but to Abraham Lincoln, whose likeness appeared below his famous admonition: "Se puede engahar a todo el pueblo parte del tiempo, se puede engahar a parte del pueblo todo el tiempo, pero no se puede engahar a todo el pueblo todo el tiempo." The lines--more familiar to Americans as "You may fool all of the people some of the time," etc.--were obviously meant to refer to the Yanquis. Cubans may just possibly apply them to someone else.

In the Virgin Islands for five days of sun, fun and social functions, Lady Bird Johnson got her first taste of skindiving in the blue-green waters of Caneel Bay. When she surfaced, obviously captivated by the world below, she reported that she saw "lacy, fanlike purple shapes that looked six feet tall, and treelike objects with millions and millions of fingers like in a horror movie--but k was beautiful!" Obviously captivated, as well, were the islanders when she attended commencement exercises for the first graduating class at the College of the Virgin Islands. At one point, somebody asked her what degrees she held. Replied Lady Bird: "All I've got is a B.A.--oh, and an L.BJ."

First there were the 17 girls who were eliminated from the finals early in the week, but had to pretend they were still in the running for appearances' sake. "How could I tell him I'd already lost?" said one lovely contestant about the home-town friend who had stopped by to wish her luck. Then officials in charge of the telecast from Miami Beach pronounced Miss District of Columbia's long blonde hair unphotogenic, demanded that she have it cut and darkened. "I don't want to change what I am," wailed Miss District. She didn't --and finished fifth. After all the illusionists were done, Pat Boone finally got a chance to crown Sue Ann Downey, 20, a blue-eyed blonde (35-24-34) from Ohio State University, Miss U.S.A. (not to be confused with Miss America) of 1965. Among other things, the victory means $5,000 in cash, $5,000 in personal appearance contracts and the patriotic thrill, such as it is, of representing the U.S. in next month's Miss Universe contest.

Their trail led north from Dallas to Durant, Okla., for a quickie blood test, then back across the state line to Sherman for the license, and finally to the tiny farm town of Fate, where they were married by a justice of the peace. Only because the groom is an expert drag racer was the couple, zooming over back roads at speeds up to 75 m.p.h., able to stay ahead of pursuing newsmen. At last, back home in suburban Dallas, Marina Oswald, 23, widow of John Kennedy's assassin, posed briefly with her new husband, Electronics Technician Kenneth Jess Porter, 27, a twice-divorced father of two who met her two months ago. Marina said only that she felt "wonderful" and that "I just want to be alone with my husband." The groom obliged, whisking her off for a secret honeymoon.

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