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Filed for probate in Manhattan Surrogate's Court, the will of General Motors Magnate Alfred P. Sloan Jr. grandly disposed of $90 million, with $60 million pouring into his Sloan Foundation, $10 million going to his alma mater, M.I.T., $10 million to the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, and $10 million to the Memorial Hospital for Cancer and Allied Diseases, both in Manhattan. His brothers and other relatives, said a lawyer for the estate, "were provided for earlier."
As the provost of England's Coventry Cathedral explained after his new and radically beautiful church had risen beside the ruins of the old cathedral bombed out in 1940, "History has given us a chance to experiment, but we're not banging cymbals and drums." Maybe not then, but some distinctly unconventional sounds were issuing from Coventry last week as Duke Ellington, 66, staged the European premiere of his jazzy Concert of Sacred Music, swinging out on the steps of the chancel beneath Graham Sutherland's tapestry of Christ in Glory (TIME cover, Dec. 25, 1964). "There's a story of the man who accompanied his prayers by juggling because that was the thing he could do best," said the Duke. "That's what we're doing—we're playing our kind of music here."
I'll endorse with my name any of the following: clothing, cigarettes, tapes, sound equipment, ROCK 'N' ROLL RECORDS, anything, film and film equipment, Food, Helium, Whips, MONEY—love and kisses Andy Warhol, EL 5-9941.
That's how the ad in the Village Voice ran and, while it wouldn't exactly be like having Mickey Mantle endorse your shaving cream, manufacturers might well consider what Andy's painstaking pop pictures did for Campbell Soups. As yet no helium or whip manufacturers have called up for the artist's endorsement, and what Andy really wants is to lend his name to some nice Manhattan restaurant, which in turn would agree to keep him and his entourage in sandwiches and beer up in his loft. But kindly don't send any of those canvas Oldenburgers.
Most of his impressive art collection looks genuine enough, sprinkled as it is with the signatures of people like Picasso, Matisse and Henry Moore. But you never can tell, testified Collector Nelson Rockefeller, 57, at the New York State attorney general's hearing on art fraud. There was that time in Sumatra in 1930, the Governor went on ruefully, when he picked up a lovely piece of "primitive sculpture," only to have a local innkeeper inform him that the things were mass-produced for the tourist trade. On other occasions, admitted Rockefeller, he's been a "sucker," and "naturally, I feel very silly."