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Rounding out their first full week as man and diva, Aristotle Onassis and Maria Callas stayed quietly on the Onassis superyacht, anchored off the Greek coast, until the soprano decided she was having a "sentimental crisis." Off she flew on Onassis' lumbering DC-4 to give a concert in Bilbao, Spain. Sang Callas: "Unexpected things have happened, and the only remedy is to rise above them." To the disappointment of her Spanish audience, she barely managed to rise above middle C, moved one critic to write: "The Bilbao public demonstrated perfect manners in not showing greater disgust." Then it was back to her sailor-man, who was having something of a crisis himself. "All the fuss" over his choice of a traveling companion, groaned Onassis, was threatening to wreck his marriage (Wife Tina had gone to New York, reportedly to see her lawyer). Maria and I"We love each other, but in God's name there is nothing of a sexual nature." Would he replace Callas' husband, Giovanni Meneghini, as the soprano's manager? "No," said the humble Midas. "My place is in the audience in a third-class seat. I am a mariner." With that, the sly, grizzled sea dog sailed off with his companion on a ten-day cruise through the islands of the Aegean.
In Manhattan to see his grandchildren, Harry S. Truman took note of the Umbrella Man, Dracula, and the rest of New York's juvenile delinquents, thought he knew the real trouble. "Spare the rod and spoil the child is what we've been doing for two generations," said old-fashioned Harry. "The peachtree switch and mother's slipper are the best things in the world to make a kid behave." Had he felt either? Grinned Truman: "Both."
In Braemar, Scotland, Britain's Prince Charles and Princess Anne dressed the part of wee royal Scots, looked appropriately braw and bonny, as they watched the Highland Games.
On a Roman film set, Actress Rita Gam had a visitor. "At last here's a man I can ask to my apartment without making my husband the least bit jealous," said Rita, in a statement not exactly calculated to flatter big (a gefilte 198½ lbs.), bagel-eyed Harry Golden, 57, bestselling author (Only in America, For 2¢ Plain) and publisher of the Carolina Israelite. Back in Manhattan, Rita's husband, Viking Press Executive Tom Guinzburg, tossed in his own 2¢, said: "We're all good Israelis."
Britain's 'Erb (for Herbert) Morrison, 71, could "not sleep for worrying," finally decided not to stand for Parliament after 27 years in the House of Commons. But Socialist Morrison would not have to leave Westminster after all. As Parliament dissolved, Queen Elizabeth's dissolution honors list awarded a lifetime peerage to the London bobby's son who became wartime Home Secretary, later Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary in the postwar Labor government. The new lord had no idea what new name he would choose. "I'll still be the same Herbie Morrison."