Tracy Austin's pigtails were disheveled as she rushed from the locker room to the telephone. "Tracy, this is Jimmy Carter," said the voice on the other end. "I just watched you on television, and you were wonderful." Jimmy even invited the high school freshman from Rolling Hills, Calif., to the White House if she finds herself in Washington. It was only her due. As the youngest tennis player ever to play at the U.S. Open at Forest Hills, the 14-year-old with the wide grin and mouthful of braces was everybody's favorite. She easily overpowered her first three opponents, but finally lost to Betty Stove. "I couldn't return her serve because I'm too little," shrugged the 5-ft., 90-lb. Tracy. Said Stove, who is a foot taller: "I never saw Tracy. I only saw the ball."

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Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, the lovable lunatics on NBC's zany '50s hit Your Show of Shows, have long been going it alone, she on the dinner-theater circuit, he in the movies. This week they are dusting off their old tricks to open in Las Vegas. "I've never figured out why we work so well together, except that we both laugh at exactly the same time," says Coca, sixty-fiveish. Caesar, 55, is optimistic about resurrecting old skits like the satire in double talk called "The Bicycle Thief." Says he: "Don't forget. There's a whole new generation out there. For them, it will be the first time."

First came the 200 tapes, some of them spicy conversations between Alabama Governor George Wallace and various lady friends, recorded by his wife Cornelia. Then a divorce petition mysteriously found its way into the hands of a Montgomery reporter. Last week matters between the Wallaces deteriorated even further. After almost seven years of marriage, Cornelia packed up her belongings and announced that she could "no longer endure the vulgarity, threats and abuse." No formal action has yet been taken, but if the case goes to court, friends predict, the fur will fly.

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"When the prince approaches his lieutenant, the proper response of the lieutenant is 'Fiat voluntas tua' "(Thy will be done). So did G. Gordon Liddy, a former counsel to Richard Nixon's re-election committee, explain his role in Watergate. Liddy was released from federal prison in Danbury, Conn., after 52 1/2 months behind bars. Accompanied by his wife Frances, the grim-faced Liddy strode through the crowd to a waiting Pinto. Once the trunk was loaded with his few possessions, he slammed it shut with a karate chop. Asked how he felt, he responded, this time in German, "What does not destroy me makes me stronger." His destination, he said, was "east of the sun and west of the moon." That turned out to be his home in Oxon Hill, Md., where he had a long-awaited reunion with his five children. Will Liddy, who has staunchly refused to talk about Watergate, now break his silence? Publishers are said to be offering as much as $300,000 for his story, but he is silent even about their offers. His wife, however, has said, "No way."

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He has always liked to give advice. "Kill your parents," he used to say, and speaking for his fellow Yippies in the '60s he would warn: "Don't trust anyone over 30." Fortunately, elders like Jerry Rubin can now be trusted because at 39 he has lots more advice and counsel to give. He is planning a School for Living, featuring seminars in male sexuality, courtship, friendship and how to be successful. To teach beside him, he has a young partner: Mimi Leonard, 28, whom he plans to marry in December, "a romantic time of year."

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