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

For the benefit of Washington newsmen, the nation's least likely revolutionary reminisced about his student days at the University of Paris (1908-09). Discussing anti-American riots in Indonesia, Secretary of State John Foster Dulles commented: "I wouldn't attach too much importance to these student riots. I remember when I was a student at the Sorbonne in Paris, I used to go out and riot occasionally ... I can't remember now which side it was on. That shows how students just like to riot for the fun of it."

Onetime stripper and sometime Litterateur Gypsy Rose Lee took a brief critical look at the sorry modern state of her old profession: "There's a great sameness to it all now. The routines of the young girls all look the same. The wardrobes look the same--they all look like they've been sewn by one seamstress. Good burlesque must be for both men and women. You can't appeal to only one element, and the presence of women makes for a much better audience--they make men laugh more."

To fill a current vacancy on the United States Naval Academy's Board of Visitors, the President last week appointed an old hand at curricular problems: brother Milton Eisenhower, president of Johns Hopkins University. The job: to give Annapolis a three-day shakedown inspection once a year. The pay: $5 a day while on the job.

When well-fed Crooner Elvis Presley ambled into Fort Chaffee, Ark. for three days of induction processing, some 50 newsmen (plus Elvis' manager) were on hand to record every detail. Abetted by space-conscious Army brass, reporters gathered brief quotes at every step from reveille to taps (sample: "I had a good night's sleep, and I decided to get up"), gleefully watched the Presley poll being pared by a civilian barber, snapped for posterity US 53310761--whose normal garb runs to cat boots, loud sports jackets and open-necked shirts--in a singularly unpressed set of fatigues.

Closing the doors on his carefree horse-and-filly days, aging (46) Playboy Aly Khan, now Pakistan's permanent U.N. representative, rounded into smooth diplomatic form for his first on-the-job reception, celebrating Pakistan's Republic Day. Full of charm and good humor, Envoy Aly manfully greeted some 1,100 guests (among them: U.S. Delegate Henry Cabot Lodge, mad-hatted Hollywood Gossipist Hedda Hopper, Cinemactor Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) who in two hours guzzled 30 cases of champagne, chomped 30 Ibs. of phaji (spinach fried in batter). For his crowded frolic, Aly earned an approving smile from Old Partygiveri Elsa Maxwell ("One of the best parties I've ever seen").

TOGETHER AGAIN, gushed the Daily Express, IS IT GOODBYE AGAIN? asked the Daily Mirror. To Londoners, the boldface heads and bolder prose meant one thing: while Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip were paying a state visit to The Netherlands, tight-lipped Group Captain Peter Townsend, 43, at the end of his 17-month, 60,000-mile world tour, had driven in his green Rover to Clarence House, residence of Princess Margaret, 27. While hundreds milled around outside, the two chatted, sipped tea, then left separately after nearly three hours--he to a rented flat, she, beaming, to a movie premiere. Next day from The Hague came rumbles of royal displeasure. Outwardly composed, the smiling Queen was reportedly angry, partly because the Townsend-Margaret reunion had driven the carefully publicized royal tour off London's front pages. Less than 24 hours after the tete-`a-tete, Townsend's solicitor issued a statement from his client: "There are no grounds whatever for supposing that my seeing Princess Margaret in any way alters the situation declared specifically in the autumn of 1955" (when she told the nation that she would not marry the divorced onetime royal equerry). Still smiling, the Queen returned to England at week's end. Pale and unsmiling, Margaret flew to West Germany to inspect two army units. Somber as ever, ex-Suitor Townsend was off for a visit to his mother in the country.

In the latest phase of an experiment involving the injection of cancer cells into healthy bodies (TIME, Feb. 25, 1957), Manhattan's Sloan-Kettering Institute again sought volunteers at the Ohio Penitentiary, found 52 takers, many of them urged on by Cleveland Osteopath and Convicted Wife-Slayer Samuel Sheppard, who offered his own arm for the test, was accepted.

Around the world, another year began for three wise old men: in Seoul, South Korean President Syngman Rhee, 83, watched fireworks and a military parade celebrating his birthday; in Manhattan, energetic ex-Senator Herbert Lehman, 80, conceded that "I do have a tendency to get tired if I stay up past 2 a.m."; in Budapest, sad-eyed, flinty Josef Cardinal Mindszenty turned 66, spent a quiet day, his 511th as a refugee in the U.S. legation.

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