Names make news. Last week these names made this news:
In an armored car, Adlai Stevenson invaded the green depths of Malaya's Red-infested jungle to visit the village of Bukit Lanjan and see a tribe of Sakai, roving aborigines. The friendly little people had been warned that a tuan besar (great master) from over the sea would visit them. And for their visitor they had a gift: a 6-ft. blowpipe (which native marksmen use with rifle accuracy at 25 yards) and a supply of nonpoisonous darts. Said the pleased visitor: "It's the most exciting thing that has happened to me." Would he like to try his target skill now? Quipped Stevenson: "Not till I've got a Republican in the sights."
Next day, armed with another souvenir (a Malayan parang, a vicious native knife which a British sergeant had given him), the traveler from Illinois logged a misadventure. Flying over the jungle near Kuala Lumpur, his helicopter caught fire and made a forced landing in a paddyfield. Stepping out unharmed into knee-deep mud, Stevenson cracked: "Where is my parang? I want to kill a bandit." At week's end, Stevenson was ready to take off for Bangkok, with stops at Rangoon, New Delhi and Karachi before heading on to the Middle East.
Moscow announced a diplomatic chair shuffle: Andrei Gromyko, Ambassador to London, was recalled to switch jobs with Jacob A. Malik, First Deputy Foreign Minister in Moscow. This was the post Gromyko held when he was sent to London last year to relieve Georgy N. Zarubin, now Ambassador to Washington. The new job will make Gromyko once again right-hand helper of Foreign Minister Vyacheslav M. Molotov and give him, in title at least, equal rank with the other First Deputy, Andrei Vishinsky.
Contralto Marian Anderson left New York's La Guardia Airport bound for her first concert tour of Japan and a stint of troop entertaining in Korea.
For the opening of the Sixth International Film Festival in Cannes, France, the order was "evening dress." The one exception made: Artist Pablo Picasso, who came in a brown velvet jacket with a fleece-lined leather lumber-jacket draped over his shoulder. Among the crowd, photographers caught the sometime rebel Boy Wonder Orson Welles, in stylish-stout conformity, dancing ogle-eyed with Cinemactress Anne Baxter.
In Rome, pompous Italian Tenor Beniamino Gigli, 63, who left the Metropolitan Opera Company and the U.S. in high dudgeon in 1939 after making cooing sounds about progress under Mussolini's Fascists, announced his interest in the current political score. He will be a candidate for a seat in the new Chamber of Deputies on Alcide de Gasperi's Christian Democratic ticket in the June elections.