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

After 73 days of marriage but little bliss, Five & Dime Store Heiress Barbara Hutton and Dominican Playboy-Diplomat Porfirio Rubirosa "mutually decided that it is wisest for us to separate." The honeymoon had been a mishmash of thrills (Rubi finished second in the Sebring twelve-hour sports-car endurance race), spills (Babs broke an ankle in her Manhattan bathroom), and finally chills (Babs left Rubirosa in their Palm Beach mansion last week and moved in with her aunt). For all of Porfirio's junior standing (he has racked up four marriages to Barbara's five), the round was clearly his. Although he renounced all claims to share Babs's money, he collected a handsome dowry while the getting was good. Reported items: a $200,000 airplane, a string of blue-blooded polo ponies, $800,000 worth of other knickknacks.

In Manhattan, Author Marion (See Here, Private Hargrove) Hargrove, 34, who got a Juarez divorce from his first wife Alison in 1950 (after three children), announced that this week he will marry Robin Edwards Roosevelt, 25, who got a Juarez divorce (after one child) last week from F.D.R.'s onetime favorite White House romper and grandson, Curtis ("Buzzie" Dall) Roosevelt.*

Cinemactor Lex (Tarzan) Barker, 34, confided to a reporter how his marriage to Cinemactress Lana Turner, 34, has converted them both into plain old homebodies: "We just have dinner at home, and never go any place. She owes me a fortune in gin rummy." Lana, said Lex, lets him hang his trophies on the wall. "Some women might stick up their noses at my African shields and my helmets and swords, but Lana's cute about it. She tries on the helmets."

Nervously pulling at his pipe, the Duke of Windsor fidgeted on the first tee of a Cuban golf course, was photographed just before he smacked out a drive in the opening round of the four-ball amateur invitation tournament at the Havana Biltmore Yacht and Country Club.

Greek-born Shipping Tycoon Aristotle Socrates Onassis, 48, who is under indictment on a charge of conspiring to gyp the U.S. in some postwar deals to buy surplus ships (TIME, Feb. 15), waited for delivery of one of the fanciest yachts to sail since Financier J. P. Morgan's Corsair churned the seagoing carriage-trade routes. In the North German port of Kiel, a 325-ft. frigate is being converted into the Christina, a floating pleasure dome which will be the flagship of Onassis' cargo and tanker fleet. Trimmed in marble, mosaics and lapis lazuli (cost: $3.50 per square inch), the yacht will have a top speed of 18 1/2 knots, will tote-- among other frills--a doctor's operating room, sailboat, speedboat and amphibian airplane. When he has nothing else to do (such as dropping in at Monte Carlo's famed Casino, which he owns, crap tables and all), Onassis will rough it on the Christina and use her for an office.

High over California's Mojave Desert, The Netherlands' Prince Bernhard, in the U.S. for a royal look at aircraft plants and military planes, took over the controls of a TF-86 Sabre Jet trainer from a test pilot, sent the craft into a screaming dive and smashed through the sound barrier. After a trial-landing maneuver, the prince circled, neatly brought the Sabre Jet in all by himself. Later, six miles out in the Pacific off Los Angeles, the prince, with no inkling that he was pushing his luck, was flying a propeller-driven Navy trainer when its engine quit. His Air Force pilot glided the plane back to International Airport, made a dead-stick landing. "We just had a lot of fun," said Bernhard. "There was no danger of swimming."

In a modest grey clapboard house in Princeton, N.J., Physicist Albert Einstein was deluged with letters, wires and cables from all over the world, soberly deduced that the hubbub was stirred up by the passing of his 75th birthday.

Preparing for his debut as a song-and-dance man in a big benefit show, Sir Laurence Olivier studiously twirled a cane and practiced his footwork in a London gymnasium, where veteran musicomedy Hoofer Jack Buchanan pronounced the actor an apt but self-conscious pupil.

In Manhattan, the National Antiques Show saw some real action when cops rushed into Madison Square Garden to look for a missing wax statuette of Mamie Eisenhower, which had disappeared from its pedestal in an exhibit depicting the nation's first ladies, present and past.

Publisher Bernarr ("Body Love") MacFadden, steadily ripening with age, asked Utah's Governor J. Bracken Lee if he might celebrate his 86th birthday next August by parachuting into Great Salt Lake. The Utah Aeronautics Commission, to which Lee referred the request, turned thumbs down on MacFadden because he might splash too hard on the "heavy" salt water and thus harm the commission's policy of "aerial safety." Taking the news standing up, MacFadden rumbled: "If I really want to make the jump, I'll go out and make it. How can they stop me?"

* In 1949, Buzzie whimsically took his mother Anna's maiden name.

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