"Names make news." Last week these names made this news:

In Tokyo, President-Emeritus Harry Augustus Garfield of Williams College had audience with Emperor Hirohito

Famed Painter Frank O. Salisbury arrived in the U. S. from England to paint whoever had $5,000 more or less.

Seized by a great wrath at the small allotment he had received for his cotton plantings, one J. S. ("Ceph") Blalock, Republican leader of Stanly County, N. C., determined to take it out on North Carolina's famed Congressman Robert Lee Doughton, Coming up behind old "Farmer Bob" on a street in Albemarle, he began by cursing, ending by asserting: "You ought to be kicked." Backwoods man Doughton, 71 but spare and sinewy, invited: "Why don't you do it then?" Republican Blalock swung a chunky fist at his enemy's leathery, buzzardish face. Down upon his head Democrat Doughton rained such a torrent of blows that Ceph Blalock struggled only to break away. Soon Ceph Blalock was sprinting down the street and Farmer Bob was bellowing: "Come back and let's finish this thing."

Washington's Lieutenant-Governor Victor Aloysius ("Vic") Meyers, onetime jazz bandmaster who campaigns for a hostess on every street car, began a book: "They laughed when I picked up the gavel. . . ."

From a dinner in honor of General Tsai Ting-kai, Harry Whinna Nice, Republican candidate for Governor of Maryland, hurried off to attend a meeting of his campaign finance committee at the home of a Baltimore banker. In the banker's dark and unfamiliar garden, Candidate Nice toppled down a short flight of stone steps, fractured his right arm. Arm and shoulder in plaster cast, he continued to campaign.

On one of his frequent world junkets Massachusetts' Congressman George Hoiden Tinkham flew into Moscow to check up on industrial conditions. So scraggly had grown his once long and silken beard that ignorant visitors to Russia thought him a typical Communist. His curiosity about business satisfied, Boston's champion of Red-bloodedness and Reaction boarded another plane to fly on to Siberia. No sooner had it got fairly into the air than the motor stalled and down it came a thwacking bump. Out crawled Congressman Tinkham. Resolved to trust his life to no more Soviet airmen, he gave up his Siberian trip, took the next plane for Berlin.

In the midst of a campaign for renomination. Wisconsin's 69-year-old Governor Albert George Schmedeman, Democrat, stepped from a speaking platform last month, slipped on a loose stone, wrenched his left foot, continued his campaign. Last week, in severe pain, he bedded himself in a Madison hospital where surgeons amputated his infected leg above the knee, felt he had "every chance" for recovery.*

Mrs. Gertrude Massey, miniaturist to many a royal family, gave Britishers last week a brand new story of their Prince of Wales. At the age of 6, when Victoria was still on the throne. Prince Edward was sitting for a portrait. Suddenly he wanted to know: "Are there any kings and queens in heaven or when you are an angel is everybody equal?"

In heaven, Mrs. Massey assured him, all are equal. Replied the Prince: "I think that is quite right, but Great-Granny won't like it."

Violinist Fritz Kreisler, 59, returned from Europe with his wife, Harriet, 58, who was sick in Berlin last season. Harriet, irrepressible daughter of a Manhattan cigar manufacturer, tried to make Fritz join her in a Papa & Mama act for the Press. Said she: "Listen, boys, Papa has been coming here too much without me; he's gotten out of hand. You see, when he travels alone he does not practice, but remains upstairs in the lounges. When I am here he works. Papa would be a good fiddler if he would only practice." But Fritz never once said Mama.

When a pair of scoundrels fell into the hands of police before they could carry out their plan to abduct her three days before her wedding in Wheeling, W. Va., Betty Bloch, daughter of Tobaccoman Jesse Bloch, lamented: "I'm disappointed. ... I know they wouldn't hurt me."

President Jonas Lie of the National Academy of Design returned from Europe to read with mounting indignation of the plight of chivalrous John Smiuske. Sentenced to six months for throwing acid on a scurrilous painting of the Roosevelt family, John Smiuske had been clapped into jail, pending his appeal, because he could not raise $500 bail. Impetuous Artist Lie, who likewise did not have $500, borrowed the sum from a friend, hurried from Manhattan to White Plains to bail the surprised youth. Said he: "Smiuske has committed an act many people would be proud to commit."

On the outdoor balcony of Hearn's ("No Profit for One Year") Department Store in noisy downtown Manhattan appeared noisy General Hugh Samuel Johnson, wearing a white carnation on his lapel. Noisy Owners Maurice Levin & Jacob Kaplan had billed his appearance as a farewell to New York, attracted a crowd of 3,000. Said he: "I am sorry that due to a misunderstanding I should have been advertised to make a farewell speech. ... I have already made my farewell and, not being either Adelina Patti or Sarah Bernhardt, that was positively my one and only farewell as NRA Administrator."

Col. (by creation of Kentucky's Governor Ruby Laffoon) Frances Mary ("Robbie") Robinson said: "I will go with General Johnson--if he wants me." Not yet knowing where he would go, the General said: "I would like to have her. . . ."

No sooner had the testimony of an Irish nurse placed Prince Gottfried Hermann Alfred Paul Maximilian Victor zu Hohenlohe-Langenburg in the bed of Mrs, Reginald Claypoole Vanderbilt (TIME, Oct. 8) than the testimony of a French maid put the Marchioness of Milford Haven in the same place. Said the maid, pertly: "She put her arms around Mrs. Vanderbilt and kissed her." At this New York's Supreme Court Justice John F. Carew threw up his hands, closed his Manhattan courtroom to the public, adjourned the hearing.

From the maid, called by Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney's lawyer to prove that Mrs. Whitney's sister-in-law, Mrs. Vanderbilt, was no fit guardian for her own Daughter Gloria, Justice Carew had heard that Mrs. Vanderbilt never played with Gloria; that she was drunk "many, many times"; thumbed "very dirty" picture books with Prince Hohenlohe; lived in Paris in a house infested with rats.

In London the Russian-born Marchioness of Milford Haven, whose husband is cousin to George V, exploded: "Terrible, malicious lies. I shall stand by Mrs. Vanderbilt to the end." From his castle at Langenburg, Prince Hohenlohe blurted excitedly: "We were very dear and intimate friends. I have decided to go with my wife to New York to clear my name. I am not going to let people sling mud at me." Protested Cinemactress Constance Bennett, named as a companion of Mrs. Vanderbilt: "I never took a drink in my life."

Over the protests of Mrs. Vanderbilt, Justice Carew resumed the hearing in private, suggested hopefully that the custody of Daughter Gloria, who is worth $2,872,664, might be settled out of court after all. Mrs. Whitney's attorney: "There is no chance." Mrs. Vanderbilt's attorney: "I will insist on the fullest hearing."

George Vanderbilt, nephew of Mrs. Reginald Claypoole Vanderbilt's late husband, wrote for the North American Newspaper Alliance a hair-raising account of his adventures as leader of an African big-game hunt. Excerpt: "I escaped the jaws of a rampaging crocodile but . . . several insect bites on my face turned septic. ... I was placed on a rough bed in the expedition truck and it was driven night and day by Viscount de la Rochefoucald out of the Belgian Congo." On the afterdeck of his yacht Alva, William Kissam Vanderbilt, cousin of Mrs. Reginald Claypoole Vanderbilt's late husband, had a cradle built to carry his new $70,000 amphibian plane.

*In Seattle, last week, one Charles G. Duke could stand no longer being "pestered and mocked" for his limp by Dr. L. G. Squier. When the doctor imitated him again on a busy street sensitive Mr. Duke shot and killed his tormentor.

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