"Names make news." Last week these names made this news:
To Moscow for the Soviet's annual air show flew Colonel & Mrs. Charles Augustus Lindbergh,
Kallie Foutz (rhymes with snouts) of Salt Lake City, great-granddaughter of the late much-married (approximately 25 wives) Mormon Brigham Young, recently won a Make-the-Most-of-Yourself contest sponsored by the fashion magazine, Mademoiselle. Like her competitors, 5,000 other plain young women, she submitted pictures, composed a 500-word essay on ''Why I Should Be Chosen To Be Made Over." Long of nose, mousy of hair, skinny of figure, Miss Foutz won with a frank letter showing no self-pity, frank pictures indicating need of makeover (see cut). Last week she went to Manhattan to receive her prize: a four-to-six-week treatment with a plastic surgeon and Bonwit Teller's beauty salon to make the least of her nose, the most of her hair, chin, body. Miss Foutz: "My greatgrandfather went west in 1847 to change the map. I've come east in 1938 to change my map."
To the U. S. came glowing descriptions of the triumphal march through Italy of Hearst Columnist Arthur ("Bugs") Baer with many an Italian official bowing & scraping before him. Reason: on his passport, where the ordinary person places the name of his nearest relative to be notified "in case of death or accident," Funnyman Baer had written: "President F. D. Roosevelt, White House, Washington."
On a mountain ridge in Summit County, Utah, newshawks discovered a granite tombstone erected several years ago by Federal Emergency Relief Administration workers. Inscription: "In memory of Franklin D. Roosevelt, 1932-36." Explained a local county commissioner: ''What the stonecutters really meant was, 'In appreciation of Franklin D. Roosevelt.' "
After a rehearsal of the Portland, Ore. stadium Philharmonic orchestra, Cleveland's Dr. Artur Rodzinski went to spend a day with his favorite animals: goats. On the way out he discussed them. Excerpt: "Goats are the sweetest pets, better than a dog. No, no, no, only the gentleman goat smells bad. You must put him in a pen half a mile away from the lady goats."
On Hollywood Boulevard, Mrs. Karl Krueger, wife of the conductor of the Kansas City Philharmonic Orchestra, was confronted by one Charles E. McDonald, estranged husband of her companion and maid. Without much ado, Mr. McDonald shot her three times with an automatic. Mrs. Krueger was removed to a hospital, Charles McDonald to a police station. His explanation: "She broke up my home."