When he took over as conductor in chief of the Houston Symphony in 1967, Composer-Pianist Andre Previn joyfully exclaimed: "At last I am doing exactly what I want to do!" Now he can look for something else that he wants to do. Orchestra President Maurice Hirsch abruptly announced last week that Previn's contract will not be renewed. Hirsch indicated that the orchestra's sponsors were disgruntled over Previn's outside commitments, notably his romance with the London Symphony Orchestra. Another problem seems to have been Previn's mod, madcap ways. His romps in blue jeans through the city's nightspots with Mia Farrow have been amply recorded by local gossip columnists. For his part, Previn is outraged. "The town is musically wide-open for new things," he said, "but the orchestra is run by the most conservative group of people I've ever seen, even in cartoons."

A small but rabid band of Welsh nationalists has been sounding off angrily ever since the announcement that Britain's Prince Charles would be formally named Prince of Wales this July 1. But the protests all seemed more bark than bite. Now nine Welshmen are on trial for organizing a paramilitary outfit called the Free Wales Army, and last week the court was told of a document found in the home of one defendant detailing plans to murder young Charles "if necessary" to prevent his investiture at Caernarvon Castle. Unmoved, Charles maintained his royal composure and went about his studies of Welsh language and history at the University College of Wales.

At 74, he is four years past the usual mandatory retirement age for federal employees. But last week, as he celebrated his 45th anniversary in the same job, FBI Chief J. Edgar Hoover allowed that he has "many plans and aspirations for the future. None of them," said Hoover pointedly, "include retirement. As long as God grants me the health and stamina to continue, I have no ambition other than to remain in my post as director of the FBI."

It has to be the most bizarre writer-v.-writer confrontation since Westbrook Pegler took on Drew Pearson. Charging that Gore Vidal waged "a campaign of persistent, false and defamatory allegations, both oral and written, that he is a Nazi," Conservative Columnist William Buckley filed suit asking for $500,000 in damages. The charges stemmed from a fang-and-claw exchange that took place on ABC-TV during the Democratic Convention last August. At one point in the debate, Vidal called Buckley a "crypto-Nazi," to which Buckley replied: "Listen, you queer, stop calling me a crypto-Nazi or I'll sock you in your goddam face and you'll stay plastered." That sounded faintly libelous itself. Asked if he planned to file a countersuit, Vidal said, "It's possible."

The immense tarpaulin dropped and 100 doves soared into the sky as Jacques Lipchitz's latest sculpture, Peace on Earth, was unveiled at the Music Center in Los Angeles. Donated by Philanthropists Lawrence Deutsch and Lloyd Rigler, and valued at $250,000, the 29-ft.-high, 10-ton design gives eloquent testimony to the career of the 77-year-old sculptor. Lipchitz spent three years on the project, laboring in his studio in central Italy. His efforts were interrupted by the Florentine floods of 1966, which devastated his retreat--as well as two-thirds of the design's original plaster. Undaunted, Lipchitz began anew. He was on hand to see his work unveiled. "Peace on Earth is my prayer for peace," he said. "If it will help us bring peace, then it is good sculpture; if it does not, it is bad sculpture."

"I'll take any flight that comes along," said the crew-cut Navy captain. "The sooner I get off the ground the better." Alan Shepard Jr.'s eagerness was understandable. Exactly eight years ago last week, he had blasted off aboard the Freedom 7 Mercury capsule to become the nation's first man in space. But an inner-ear ailment grounded him late in 1964 and he has been holding down a NASA desk job ever since. Now after surgery, Shepard, 45, has been pronounced fit for space travel once again, possibly aboard a moon-bound Apollo sometime next year.

Student dissent has infected even the second-graders at Beauvoir School of the National Cathedral in Washington --or so says Senator Ted Kennedy. The morning after a stormy homework session with seven-year-old Ted Jr., he found the following note outside his bedroom door. "You are not ascing me qestungs abouat the 5 pages. You are not creting my home work, it is a free wrold." Said Ted Sr.: "I called for the campus police."

As escort for her first official White House party, a masked ball, Tricia Nixon chose the capital's newest Congressman and most eligible bachelor, Barry Goldwater Jr. Blessed with his father's strong-jawed good looks, young Barry is nothing if not a romantic figure, and he and Tricia made a handsome couple as they danced to the beat of the Turtles and the Temptations. Republican matchmakers immediately started buzzing about yet another White House wedding. But their concern seems a bit premature; after all, it was only Tricia and Barry's first date.

There are some who might be impressed by Tittenhurst Park, a 72-acre estate 26 miles west of London, complete with a rambling Georgian mansion, Tudor tea pavilion, tennis court, heated swimming pool, gate lodge and four staff cottages. There are also those who are unaffected by such trappings. Among them are Tittenhurst's new owners: Beatle John Lennon and his Japanese bride, Yoko Ono. "A mansion?" scoffs John. "A nice functional house with just a couple of rooms for Yoko and me." What about that splendid private picture gallery? "Just a shed where everyone plays pingpong." The $348,000 price tag? Another bagatelle. "I say sometimes that we spend too much money, but it's a joke. I've got millions." Would the grounds be opened to the public? "Like hell. That may be a tradition here, but everyone knows I'm not traditional."

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