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Unanimously upheld by the U.S. Court of Appeals: the conviction of William F. Rickenbacker, 34, an editor of the conservative National Review and son of Eastern Air Lines Board Chairman Eddie Rickenbacker, for refusing to fill out the 1960 census questionnaire. Contending that the form was "snoopy" and "an unnecessary invasion of my privacy" (because it asked such things as salary, manner of sewage disposal), Rickenbacker vows to take the case to the Supreme Court. At stake: a $100 fine and suspended 60-day jail sentence.
"This is a radical step in what I hope is the right direction," explained Crooner Pat Boone, 28, heretofore always the Mr. Clean of the movie business. Hoping to do right by doing wrong, Boone plays the heavy in 7 Arts' The Main Attraction. He is knocked silly in a barroom brawl and revived by Chianti spilled over his head by a circus floozy. He sleeps in her wagon ("Won't there be talk?"), later stabs her husband, runs away, is seduced by a bareback rider. Where on earth went all of Pat's on-screen morality? "I have stepped out of the groove," he said. "In my first six movies I played myself. From now on I don't care if I play a derelict or a drug addict, just so long as the movie has a worthwhile message."
Nearly 500 friends, followers, and just plain curious crammed into the Left Bank studio-gallery-theater of America's pioneer Beatnik Raymond Duncan for his 88th birthday blowout. The bespectacled old expatriate, whose pad is almost a photographic shrine to his late sister, Dancer Isadora Duncan, gave them a weirdly nostalgic show. In a quavering saloon tenor he sang My Old Kentucky Home; then, unshorn silver locks and hand-woven toga flying, he launched into a frantic soft-sandal jig. The Dior-dressed segment of the crowd dug it deep. But the modern beats, obviously distressed that no food and no smoking were allowed, did not get the scene at all. Said one bewildered beard to another: "I don't know what this cat is laying down, but I don't pick it up."
In black boots, canary yellow britches, dark blue melton coat and velvet hunting cap, Jackie Kennedy, astride a calico hunting horse named Rufus, plunged into the fox-hunting season with gleeful energy. So caught up was Jackie in her favorite sport that she missed a White House meeting with the patrons of Washington's Gallery of Modern Art (the President pinch-hit), and daily chased the hounds across the misty Virginia fields near Upperville, where the Kennedys are building a ranch house costing approximately $90,000. During one three-hour hunt, the First Lady chivalrously dismounted to open a gate for her fellow riders. Said one weary young horseman: "It was nice of her to open that gate, but I sure did feel funny going through it."