Plagued by another abscess caused by his gunshot wounds last May, Alabama Governor George C. Wallace underwent surgery in a Birmingham hospital. Surgeons reported that the operation had been completed "without complications," that the Governor was fully awake and in good condition afterward, and that there was no reason to believe the bullets had created any spreading infection.

As if to prove that a handicap need not keep anyone out of action, Ethel Kennedy hobbled in on crutches--memento of a skiing accident five months ago--to watch 2,726 hopeful young competitors join in the National Special Olympics for retarded children in Los Angeles. Among the other onlookers was the games' founder, Eunice Kennedy Shriver, whose own sister Rosemary is retarded. After appearances by Comedian Jonathan Winters and Actor Lorne Greene, the children raced, hurled softballs, tumbled on trampolines and shot basketballs. "We may not win," remarked one girl with the classic Olympic spirit, "but it's all right if we do our best."

Lady Chatterley's Lover is, as everyone knows, a novel about class conflicts between the aristocracy and its servants. In the course of writing it, however, D.H. Lawrence became preoccupied with certain delicate aspects of his subject, and by the time he finished his final draft, he had devoted so much attention to those aspects that no publisher in London wanted the honor of being prosecuted for the sale of pornography. Lawrence published the novel himself in 1928, and pirated editions soon swept the world, though it was not until 1959 that a copy could be sold legally in the U.S. Now, courtesy of Viking Press, Lawrence's American admirers will get a chance to read the saga of struggle, some 20,000 words longer than the familiar version, entitled John Thomas and Lady Jane. "It has a great deal more material of social interest," says Critic Malcolm Cowley, "more class feeling, and I think in some ways I like it better."

A Playboy Club-Hotel seemed an unlikely place for a singing apostle of the Jesus movement, but the club's managers were in an ecumenical mood, so there he was, Pat Boone himself, along with his wife and four daughters. "I couldn't disagree more with the Playboy philosophy," said Boone, "but if Playboy wants to pay us to come here and present our own philosophy, we'll come." To a bemused but not unappreciative crowd at the bunny burrow in McAfee, N.J., Boone and his family held forth with songs, jokes and gospel tunes. Afterward, while the singer was sitting alone in the VIP Room with his daughters, one patron wandered up and asked, "What's your wife going to think about you sitting here with four bunnies?" Replied Boone: "They're not bunnies, ma'am, they're Boonies."

Crooner Rudy Vallee, 71, finally realized his heart's desire: to have a street named after him. The trouble was that the street he wanted his name on was the one that runs in front of his Hollywood home. He tried last year, but his neighbors on Pyramid Place made such a fuss that an embarrassed public works committee tabled the idea. In Lake Forest, Calif., some 360 miles from Hollywood, officials were more sympathetic to Rudy's ambition. So now Lake Forest has a street called Rue de Vallee. The location: a trailer park. Vallee was only moderately pleased by the honor. "I need that street about like I need another nose," he said. Then he added a four-letter expletive that one would never have expected to hear from Rudy Vallee. With Candace Mossier Garrison, femme fatale is not an idle phrase. After her first marriage ended in divorce, her second, to Millionaire Jacques Mossier, ended in murder. Candy was acquitted of the deed, in a lurid trial featuring her affair with her young nephew and codefendant, Mel Powers. Last week the butler found her third husband, an electrical contractor named Barnett Garrison, lying in a pool of blood outside Candy's Houston mansion. He had fallen off the third-floor roof some time during the night. With brain damage, a broken hip, broken ribs and a collapsed lung, Garrison was in no condition to explain what he was doing on the roof in the wee hours with a pistol, ammunition and over a thousand dollars in his pocket. Neither was Candy. She was locked up in her bedroom, having hysterics. Police said it was apparently all an accident--just one of those things.

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