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Proving that enlightened capitalism has made it hard to tell the players without a score card, two burly look-alikes in dinner jackets, the A.F.L.-C.I.O.'s driving President George Meany and Manhattan's Realtycoon (Webb & Knapp) William Zeckendorf, paired up in a cigar-lighting vignette at Manhattan's Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. At a $100-a-plate dinner, both got honorary Doctor of Laws degrees from Long Island University. In the affair's main speech, Labor Chief Meany un-mincingly ripped into Yugoslavia's East West-mugwumping Dictator Tito. Roared he: "Tito is already well on his way into the arms of Khrushchev!"
In 1934 Germany's port city of Kiel, celebrating the resurgence of the German navy and its own civic health, conferred its honorary citizenship on shipbuilding Admiral Erich Raeder. (Another German so honored: Adolf Hitler.) Eleven years later, Kiel lay in rubble from Allied bombings, and Grand Admiral Raeder, rated the Nazis' No. 4 war criminal, arrogantly awaited trial in Niirnberg. Kiel's postwar Christian Democratic city assembly, anxious to blot out their city's Nazi stains, annulled its past laurels to Hitler and Raeder. Last week, however, ailing Pensioner Raeder, 79, some five months after serving a nine-year stretch in Berlin's grim Spandau Prison, was welcomed as an honorary Kieler. The reason was strictly legalistic: Kiel's city assembly had neglected, in 1945, to tell Raeder of its annulment action. Moreover, if Adolf Hitler were not dead, he too could glory in still being an honorary Kieler.
On his way to make a movie in Japan, Cinemactor Marlon (Guys and Dolls) Brando was waylaid at Manila's Manila Hotel, where more than 100 hot-eyed Filipino bobby-soxers gatecrashed a news conference held by Brando on the U.N.'s technical assistance program. About .all he got to say about the program was that it's "a fine thing." Then the phony news-chicks, breathing heavily, took over. Asked a toreador-panted girl: "Can I kiss you for somebody?" Mumbled Marlon: "I can't do anything." Asked another unladylike "reporter": "Can you accommodate me while you're here?" Blushing, the renowned screen lover stammered: "I don't understand exactly what you mean. Let's get to the bottom of this." Soon, muttering that he was "too busy" for accommodations, Brando fled for safety with the giddy mob shrieking at his heels.
The U.S.'s Lear Inc. (aviation electronic devices) hired a European .sales manager. The new employee, now headquartered at Lear's big new shop in Geneva: Rumania's handsome ex-King Michael, 34, an aviation buff with a grease monkey's love of tinkering. With an admiring glance at two fancy Lear-equipped sports planes, Michael was eager to get at the controls: "Flying these will be a large part of my job."
In the traditional formal kickoff of Greece's spring carnival season, bemedaled King Paul and pert Queen Frederika presided over a royal ball in Athens' austere Parnassus Hall, signaled the start of nationwide revelry by whirling through the first waltz of the evening.