In the words of a '60s platter, life meant "just a-surfin' all day and swingin' " all night. The superswingers, of course, were Warbler Frankie Avalon and matured Mouseketeer Annette Funicello, who boogied by the surf in a string of beach party movies. On Nov. 25 a Dick Clark special on NBC will be co-hosted by Funicello, now 36 and the mother of three, and Avalon, 38, father of eight. "The chemistry between us is just dynamic," giggles Funicello. Frankie agrees, and for good reason. Says he appreciatively: "Annette thinks I am the funniest guy in the world. She is a doll baby."

As far as princely parties go, it was rather informal. "Tiaras will not be worn," stated the invitations to the Prince of Wales' 30th birthday ball at Buckingham Palace. As 350 well-connected guests looked on, Prince Charles danced expertly with the members of his favorite pop group, the Three Degrees. His Highness, of course, was inundated with gifts. Among the most unusual was a front-page column devoted to Charles in the London Sunday Times. Because the prince had once complained that newspapers tend to dwell on things that go wrong, the Times printed nothing but the week's good news. Among the tidings of cheer: 92% of first-class mail was delivered on time, and no banks collapsed. "P.S." added the Times. "The death rate from suicide is going down."

It had to happen in our era of sequels: Deep Throat II. This time, he is a mysterious figure--or figures--leaking information about the U.S. Supreme Court. Who is the reporter scribbling down the incriminating details? Naturally, Bob Woodward, co-author with Carl Bernstein of The Final Days. Woodward and his new partner, fellow Washington Post Reporter Scott Armstrong, are behind locked doors, working on a book about the Warren Burger Court. Excerpts will appear early next year, and anticipation at the Post is high. Says one editor: "The Supreme Court is the last secret institution in Washington. It's as secret as the CIA, but the process it goes through has never been examined."

When a struggling 31 -year-old sculptor named Robert Berks visited Albert Einstein at

his home in Princeton, N.J., in 1953, the meeting, he says, "changed my life." Einstein, he recalls, "appeared at the head of a staircase with the setting sun to his left, his hair glowing like a halo. His head was so large, his body seemed to hang from it like a spiral nebula." The great man agreed to pose for a sculpture, a project Berks has worked on ever since. "I was overwhelmed by the sweetness, yet penetrating intellect of the man. He treated everyone the same, whether child or king," recalls Berks, who has also sculpted busts of John F. Kennedy, Harry Truman and Lyndon Johnson. The National Academy of Sciences is raising $1 million to pay Berks and his workers for the monument, which will be cast in bronze and installed in front of the academy's building in Washington soon after the 100th anniversary of Einstein's birth next spring.

On the Record

George Meany, president of the AFL-CIO: "They say Carter is the first businessman ever to sit in the White House. But why did they have to send us a small businessman?"

Ingrid Bergman, on her latest role as a too busy career mother in Autumn Sonata: "My friends feel that this is not acting--this is me."

Lowell Thomas, broadcaster, 86, on why octogenarians never finish talking: "After the age of 80, everything reminds you of something else."

Ira Levin, playwright and author (Deathtrap, The Boys from Brazil), on cooking: "I find it very hard to think of putting a lot of effort into something which is going to be gone at the end of the day."

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