"William, son of John Shakspere," was baptized in 1564 in the Church of the Holy Trinity in Stratford, England. In 1616, the famous son was buried in that same small church--which makes it all the sadder that today Stratford's Holy Trinity Church is a dilapidated ruin in dire need of restoration before it crumbles to the ground. Now to the rescue comes a group of Shakespeare devotees who have organized a $480,000 fund-raising drive to finance repairs. Said Sir Michael Redgrave, one of the leaders of the appeal: "Surely the need is self-evident. This church, this grave, is one of the great pilgrimage points of the world."

Wearing a yellow ribbon in her hair ("for her daddy who is far, far away") Lucinda Desha Robb, 6 days old, left the Naval Medical Center at Bethesda, Md., to take up temporary residence in the White House. There, dressed in a long white gown that once belonged to her mother, wearing white crocheted booties and wrapped in a white blanket knitted by her paternal grandmother, Lucinda formally met the press for the first time. Grandfather Lyndon Johnson summed up the family's feelings about its latest addition: "Wonderful," he beamed.

Her husband was taking off on another of his record-breaking flights, so Betty Conrad gave him a big kiss and "a squeeze you won't forget for two months." He won't. Upon landing in Calgary, Alta., on the first leg of a flight that he hopes will make him the first man to solo a light plane over both poles, Max Conrad, 65, the famed flying grandfather, discovered that his wife's enthusiastic embrace had left him with a cracked rib. "I'll get even with her on New Year's Eve when I get back to Arizona," said Max. And, with a little tape around his chest, off he went in his twin-engine Piper Aztec on a 33,000-mile tour that should take him to Alaska, the North Pole, Norway, North Africa, South America, the South Pole, New Zealand and Hawaii before he gets home.

A crowd of 100,000 gathered on the promenade of the channel resort town of Brighton, jostling for a look down the road that led from London. At last, the first car appeared. Then another and another. Finally, after eight hours, the last of some 250 pre-1905 cars to make the annual 50-mile "Old Crocks' Race," puffed, wheezed and whistled into town, piloted by a collection of antique-car buffs who consider themselves the royalty of the auto world. Appropriately enough, some real royalty was on hand for the proceedings: Monaco's Prince Rainier, at the wheel of a 1903 De Dion Bouton, accompanied by Princess Grace and ten-year-old Prince Albert. With a smile, the Princess admitted that the open car had been a bit chilly and that she had spent most of the eight-hour trip in a more modern conveyance. "I suppose I cheated a little bit," she said.

It is a good thing for the Baseball Writers' Association that its members decided last year to bestow two Cy Young awards, one for each league. Otherwise, how could they have selected the outstanding pitcher of 1968? In the American League, there was Denny McLain, 24, the Peck's Bad Boy (TIME cover, Sept. 13) who posted an astounding 31-6 record to lead the Detroit Tigers to their first pennant in 23 years. In the National League, the St. Louis Cardinals' Bob Gibson, 33, boasted equally stunning statistics: a 22-9 record that included a phenomenal 13 shutouts. The voting last week was unanimous. Mc-Lain for the American League; Gibson for the National. But who was the best? Said McLain, twice beaten by Gibson in the World Series: "Bobby is the greatest pitcher I have ever seen, and that includes me."

No sooner had the lady arrived in Recife, Brazil, than she was caught in a tangle of traffic. Then, in the middle of a reception at the Palace of Las Princessas, the lights blew and pitched the whole place into darkness. But Queen Elizabeth II, poised as always, went right on receiving guests while servants held glowing candelabra behind her. It was the first visit ever to South America by a reigning British monarch, and the Queen plans ten days in Brazil, another seven in Chile before returning home. Officially, she is returning a state visit to Britain three years ago by Chile's President Eduardo Frei. Unofficially, there are high hopes that the Queen's travels will help promote the exports that Britain needs to correct its trade balance. As the London Daily Mirror put it: "The production has been carefully worked out, and the leading lady has played the part before."

Living in a rambling adobe house in the sun-baked New Mexico mountains, still painting stark, haunting canvases as she nears her 81st year, Georgia O'Keeffe is as full of flash and flint as ever. "Art critics read into my paintings things about themselves that have nothing to do with me at all," she told a reporter. "I don't think my subconscious is all that crazy. The meaning is there on canvas. If you don't get it, that's too bad." And what was she working on right now? inquired the reporter. "Nothing," snapped Georgia, "because I'm talking to you."

"The case was tried in the storm and tension of emotions between old friends who had become bitter enemies. And in the thunder echoed such words as frame-up, dishonesty, fraud and concocted perjury." Thus, in London, did a member of the Judicial Committee of the House of Lords describe the bitter lawsuit involving Maria Callas and two Greek shipowners, Aristotle Onassis and Panaghis Vergottis. At stake was 51% of the shares in a $3,000,000 freighter that Maria said the men had given her as a token of friendship that was to provide for her old age. Onassis never questioned his part of the deal, but Vergottis denied all, and has spent H years fighting the case through British courts. Maria's ship finally came in. Vergottis lost his last appeal, and the disputed shares are hers.

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