The constrained, frequently frustrating lives of politicians' wives were emphasized last week by Joan Kennedy's latest ordeal. As heiress to the pressures and drama of being wife to the Kennedy dynasty's surviving star, Joan has openly acknowledged her feelings of inadequacy. A friend explained: "She is just not tough enough." Joan's troubles climaxed when Teddy Jr. fell ill last fall with bone cancer. At one point, she collapsed under the strain, and Senator Edward Kennedy was left to cope. After an exhausting trip to the U.S.S.R. this spring with Ted, Joan on her doctor's advice entered the exclusive Silver Hill Foundation in Connecticut, a private sanatorium that treats alcoholism and related disorders. Joan's friends say her problems are compounded by the fact that "a minimal amount of alcohol produces the maximum effect." It was not her first visit to Silver Hill. In and out of psychiatrists' offices for years, Joan had to struggle even to get help. Says a longtime confidante: "It was a fight to get Teddy to agree to let her see a psychiatrist." At Silver Hill, Joan's treatments included physical activities like swimming and tennis and also group therapy sessions. After a three-week stay, Joan returned to Washington last week to join Ted at the simple graveside ceremony marking Robert Kennedy's death six years ago. Then she took Daughter Kara out shopping while Ted fulfilled his commitment as surrogate father to Bobby's children, accompanying Ethel Kennedy to commencement exercises. Although Joan looked relaxed, her travail may not be over. Friends think she is cautiously testing herself to see if she is well enough to stay home. One insider said: "I have the impression that this is a furlough; she may have to return to Silver Hill soon."

Art Buchwald and Julie Andrews had to share equal billing at the American Booksellers Association convention lunch in Washington, D.C., with 9-Lives' finicky supersalesman Morris. The subject of an intimate biography by Chicago Journalist Mary Daniels, the big orange tiger basked in the warmth of the spotlights and the attention of some 1,000 booksellers who were listening to a tape of Morris. The details of his life are stark. Five years ago, Morris was rescued from imminent execution at the Hinsdale, Ill., Humane Society by Professional Animal Handler Bob Martwick. Morris earned Martwick's kennel over $10,000 last year, which more than pays his keep. Moreover, he has tripled 9-Lives' sales. Obviously having long since lost control of his biographer, Morris serenely concentrated on grooming his whiskers while Daniels coyly revealed that his choice for his own memoir had been Any Cat Can.

Two years of harassment and enforced idleness ended last week for Valery Panov, 35. The Kirov Ballet's great dancer and his ballerina wife Galena, 24, were finally issued emigration visas allowing them to go to Israel. The Soviet government agreed six months ago to issue a visa to Panov, who is a Jew, but not to non-Jewish Galena. However, Panov would not leave without his wife, who is expecting their first child. Committees in the West have been campaigning on the Panovs' behalf, and shortly before President Nixon's planned Soviet visit, the U.S.S.R. abruptly announced they could go.

"I plan to marry Elliott Gould," announced Actress Jennifer O'Neill. A couple of weeks ago Jennifer took Old Pal Elliott to her parents' wedding anniversary, and Gould found his wavering faith in marriage renewed. Now he and Jennifer plan to wed in a month's time. That is, after quick divorces from their respective spouses. Elliott is inarticulate about what went wrong with his companion of five years and wife of six months, Jenny Bogart, with whom he has two children. Said Jennifer gamely: "A lot of people think Elliott is crazy. But I love him."

"There is a religious nature to the ceremony you are about to witness," Master of Ceremonies Don Cornelius advised the 21,000 rowdy wedding guests assembled at Manhattan's Madison Square Garden. Acting as if it were news to them, the mostly white crowd --who had paid $6.50 to $8.50 a ticket to watch Rock Star Sly Stone, 30, marry Actress Kathy Silva, the mother of his nine-month-old child--whistled and hooted when the preacher launched into the Lord's Prayer. The nuptials were billed as a "golden affair." Halston, the designer of the costumes, explained: "Sly is such a golden god."

But the proceedings yielded mainly dross in an atmosphere heavy with cannabis. Among the few taking matters seriously was the groom's mother, Alpha Stewart, 57, who gave her maternal blessing. "If this couple can live 40 years married as my husband and I have lived, well, they can make it if they try," she declared. There were those in the audience who thought she was perhaps referring to Sly's former reputation for failing to fulfill engagements. Then she introduced Family Friend Bishop B.R. Stewart of the Church of God in Christ, who had replaced, at her insistence, the Rev. Ike. Explained a Sly aide: "The only denomination Ike knows anything about is $5, $10, $20."

While a dozen bridesmaids in black jersey waved giant golden palm fronds, Sly's musical Family and his flesh-and-blood kin gathered onstage with the Silva family. Finally the happy couple appeared in dazzling golden unisex gear. Planting a kiss on the cheek of Trumpet-Playing Sister Rose, Sly diddy-hopped over to Kathy's side on cue, only to freeze momentarily when required to answer "Will thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?" Careful prompting helped him finish the ceremony. As a relieved Bishop Stewart declared "I'm fixing to pray now," an ignorant fan yelled: "He can sing Babies Making Babies now and really mean it." Instead of the traditional Mendelssohn, Sly delivered a couple of his own numbers, taking a break from M'Lady to enjoy a 30-second smooch with Kathy, for which he received an ovation. Then they moved on to a more exclusive reception at the Starlight Terrace of the Waldorf-Astoria, where 450 privileged admirers, including Geraldo Rivera, Diane von Furstenburg, Marion Javits, Andy Warhol, Baby Jane Holzer, Amanda Burden and Peter Cook enjoyed a Japanese buffet and champagne plus a slice of the five-tier cake, topped with a golden pastry record. Taking a breather from the hectic dance floor, one bridesmaid said, "I can't wait for the divorce." Later it was revealed that the elaborately staged arrangements had suffered a hitch. The 1,000 white doves that were to have been released as Sly proclaimed "I will" were grounded by an ASPCA threat to call the cops.

After nearly two years of enforced separation while Edith served a prison term in Switzerland and Clifford was in a U.S. jail, the Irvings were reunited in Manhattan. Paroled from jail last month, Edith announced she planned a divorce, but after an initial meeting with Clifford she declared last week: "I couldn't care less for the divorce papers now." Irving viewed the detente somewhat more cautiously: "Friendship dominates over bitterness," he said, then added: "But I don't think we'll ever live together again." Instead, the couple are trying to come up with a new concept --"something between marriage and divorce." Meanwhile he will work on several projects: a novel called Naked on Ibiza and a business called Literary Developments, Inc., which offers a legitimate Clifford Irving-ghosted autobiography to anybody for fees averaging $25,000.

"I sang Till There Was You in the early days after hearing Peggy's record," said Peggy Lee's longtime fan Paul McCartney, 31. He was in Los Angeles to make a grandiloquent bread-and-butter gesture to the plangent singer in return for a recent dinner invitation in London. "It was either a bottle of champagne or a song," explained Paul. Then the singer-composer, whose latest song, Band on the Run, tops the current LP and singles charts, added modestly, "I thought a song would be better." Obviously so did Peggy, 54, as under Paul's direction, she cut Let's Love for her new album. Before taking off for Nashville to rehearse for his long-awaited American tour, McCartney put his arm round Peggy and declared, "This is the Peg and Paul Show."

Seven years in prison, including a spell at New York's Sing Sing for armed robbery, inspired Miguel Pinero, 27, to become Broadway's first Puerto Rican playwright. For writing Short Eyes (TIME, April 8), based on his experiences behind bars, Pinero walked away with this year's New York Drama Critics' Circle Award for the best American play. Last week, however, it seemed that Pinero might be germinating a new plot. Approaching a subway token booth in a downtown Manhattan station around 12:35 a.m., he was overtaken by a swarm of youths, who vaulted the token turnstiles and boarded a train. When the token seller cursed them as "Spanish trash," Pinero let loose with a few oaths of his own. Picked up by a transit cop on a charge of harassment, Miguel got rather more attention than he had bargained for. A marijuana joint found in his dungarees pocket earned him a minor charge of carrying drugs.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.