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

Revealed as the holder of options on gold mining claims supposedly worth $149,000 at Mojave, Calif., was Nevada's Senator Key Pittman, loud champion of silver.

Lady Astor, at a charity appeal in London: "Every one of us has money that we don't want anybody to know anything about. My husband is one of the best in the world, but he won't tell me what his income is. When I ask him he says, 'Well, I don't know. It varies.' Well, his income may vary but his answer never does."

Whizzing through little Rockville, Conn., with a companion, a maid, and a chauffeur, Nora lasigi Bullitt, pretty debutante daughter of onetime (1912-13) U. S. Solicitor-General William Marshall Builitt, was brought up short by a traffic policeman, led off to police court. There the policeman announced that she had been passing intersections at 65 m.p.h. In the empty courtroom Miss Bullitt and friend puffed cigarets, ground the butts into the floor, kept on puffing and grinding until the judge came. Quickly the judge hammered out a fine of $10 plus $11.31 costs. "And now, Miss Bullitt," said he, offering her a long-handled brush, "you may sweep up the courtroom." Debutante Bullitt gripped the brush awkwardly, dabbed ineffectively at the floor. After a few dabs the maid stepped past smirking court attendants, swished the butts into a rubbish pile.

U. S. Matador Sidney Franklin (Frumkin) hailed Columbia Pictures into a Manhattan court where he offered two prime exhibits:

1) A motion picture short entitled Throwing the Bull, containing this narrative sequence: "Now folks, meet Sidney Franklin, one of the greatest bull-throwers --I mean, bull-fighters--born under the sunny skies of Brooklyn."

2) A definition from Webster's New International Dictionary: "To throw the bull--to lie glibly; also, to talk fluently."

Complaining that he had thus been branded "an impostor, liar, falsifier and humbug unworthy of serious consideration," Matador Franklin demanded $300,000 damages from Columbia Pictures.

In a spirit of vast good will James Aloysius Farley invited the employes of the Post Office Department in Washington to a handshaking bee. The staff lined up, began filing past their beaming boss. To each the Postmaster General wished a cheery "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year," or, if the employe beat him to that, a jovial "The same to you." At the 500 mark the Farley handshake and greeting had grown automatic. The 1,000th guest found him shaking feebly, speaking thickly. Employe No. 1,089 was a young woman who gigglingly exclaimed : "So you are the Postmaster General?" Mumbled James Aloysius Farley: "The same to you, miss."

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