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

Husky Cinemale Kirk (Ulysses) Douglas, luxuriantly equipped to play his second bearded film role in a row (as tortured Dutch Artist Vincent Van Gogh), was the hairy centerpiece of a trio of singers while rehearsing before a polio benefit on the terrace of Monte Carlo's Summer Sporting Club. His deep voice blended commendably with the husky baritone of Grandma Marlene Dietrich and the lilting tremolo of Italian Cinemactress Gina (The Wayward Wife) Lollobrigida.

On the eve of her "coming-of-age" birthday, the 25th, Britain's Princess Margaret helped out at a church bazaar in Scotland, slipped in the grass and twisted her ankle. But when her birthday dawned, Margaret rose early at Balmoral Castle, got piping greetings from nephew Charles and niece Anne, then with other members of the royal family drove to Sunday services at nearby Crathie Church. The crowd outside toppled part of the churchyard wall in its crush to see her. The princess looked radiant, especially when the Rev. John Lamb, from the pulpit, wished her "the fulfillment of her desires.'' The day passed quietly, without public hint of whether fulfillment in this case involved R.A.F. Group Captain Peter Townsend, 40, the divorced air hero whom she could now marry, provided Parliament lets her renounce all rights of royal succession.

The Army Medical Corps' pint-sized Major Sammy Lee, 35, twice (1948, 1952) Olympic high-diving champion, 1953 winner of the Sullivan Trophy as the U.S.'s outstanding amateur athlete, and a Korean war veteran, disclosed that two Southern California real-estate men recently gave him a rough time when he was shopping for a $12,000 house. His sin: California-born Dr. Lee is of Korean ancestry. Explained one real-estate man to him: "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I have to eat, and I'd lose my job for selling to a nonwhite ... Go to the $35,000 class." However, Physician Lee soon had virtual guarantees that he could buy a house at a price he could afford. Beaming about the Samaritans who want to assist him, he said: "My belief in the American people is substantiated."

In a flossy Venice hotel, tireless Party-girl Elsa Maxwell, 72, busied herself with last-minute arrangements for an aristocratic cruise, slated to sail from Venice next week to nose about Greece and its islands. On the celebrity-jammed roster of some 120 guests: Scotland's Duke and Duchess of Argyll, Hostess-with-Mostes' Perle Mesta, Prince Aly Khan, Cinemactress Olivia de Havilland. Conspicuously uninvited: the Duchess of Windsor, once one of Elsa's best friends, but now (it's mutual) one of her severest critics. To discourage her seagoing party from completely wasting its substance in riotous living, Elsa was also charting a full course of culture-vulture activities, including pilgrimages to antiquities and monuments ashore. Wrote a Venetian newsman awe-strickenly: "Miss Maxwell is even scheduling lessons--but real lessons--in history and art!" Reportedly sniffed the Duchess of Windsor: "Maxwell's zoo."

The first member of Adolf Hitler's Cabinet to visit Britain since Rudolf Hess parachuted into Scotland in 1941, pink-cheeked Financial Wizard Hjalmar Horace Greeley Schacht, 78, now a rapidly rising Duesseldorf banker, moseyed into London. In and out of courts and jails for five postwar years, Dr. Schacht now played the role of a cagey grandpa, beaming craftily, bustling to see old acquaintances, dropping plugs for his recently published memoirs, My First Seventy-Six Years. Interviewed by indifferent or downright hostile London newsmen, Banker Schacht had glib answers for questions. His estimate of West Germany's booming postwar recovery? "When you start from zero, all progress seems imposing." His main recollection of Der Fuehrer? Replied he: "Hitler was a betrayer and a madman, but he was a genius, as so many criminals are." Then the visitor registered pained indignation. "The moment I discovered that [madness]," said Hjalmar Schacht, a Nazi minister without portfolio until 1943, "I separated from him and worked against him. That was in 1938--before the war--and I did that because I saw he wanted to go to war."

On his 85th birthday, Elder Statesman Bernard Baruch was nearly buried by congratulations, including a two-page frappe of well-wishes whipped up by the New York Herald Tribune. Sample message (from Heavyweight Champion Rocky Marciano): "My humble toast to the greatest strength, Wisdom." Baruch himself was patiently holding off newsmen, seeking gems of sagacity. Said he: "To me, old age is always 15 years older than I am." One reporter insistently pressed Baruch for the lowdown on where the world is headed. Grinned the sage of Hobcaw Barony: "I don't know." The reporter expressed amazement. Advised Veteran Pundit Baruch: "I don't see why a man should be more garrulous on his 85th birthday than he was on his 84th--or his 21st. I wanted to talk a hell of a lot when I was 21, but I don't at 85. Besides, I've given all my views."

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