She has not made a movie in three years, but when Ingrid Bergman, 46, appeared in Rome for the first day's shooting of The Lady's Vengeance, it was clear that time must have a stop. Radiant and regal in a white Bangkok-silk suit, she was playing the richest woman in the world and even celeb-weary Italians were starstruck. Every one cheered delightedly a few days later when Ingrid, her Co-Star Anthony Quinn and Bette Davis—all two-time Oscar winners—were awarded Italy's own palm, the Silver Mask award, for exceptional contributions to the screen.
At 10 p.m. E.S.T. on Oct. 6, CBS will have Liz Taylor to guide its TV audience through the city of London. Over at NBC, despair was setting in, and then the answer came. Against the world's best-paid movie star (a projected $7.1 million for Cleopatra), NBC will throw a special on the world's "best-paid" baseball player ($105,000 per season): San Francisco's Willie Mays, 32. But the move will not be enough to change at least one viewer's plans. "I know all about me," grinned Willie. "So I'm going to watch her."
Forward March, and for three days visiting former President Harry S. Truman, 79, kept Manhattan newsmen panting in his wake during those famous early-morning walkie-talkies. Never breaking his military 30-in., 120-per-min. stride, H.S.T. had something to say about practically everything. On tax cuts: "I am old fashioned. I believe you should pay in more than you spend." On desegregation: Alabama Governor Wallace "won't make it." Nonetheless, the civil rights march on Washington was "silly." The next morning Truman had a question of his own for a reporter: "Would you want your daughter to marry a Negro?" When the surprised newsman said love should decide it, Harry frowned: "Well, she won't love someone who isn't her color."
Because it's there? No. Because he was there. In Africa to address a conference on wildlife preservation, Interior Secretary Stewart Udall, 43, who gets a boot out of barging around mountains (two years ago he loped up Japan's 12,388-ft. Mount Fuji), now was set on 19,317-ft. Mount Kilimanjaro. "This is not a dangerous climb, just a long, hard walk," said Stew, and up he went casually clad in climbing pants, sports shirt and sweater. That was a bit skimpy for the hidden throes of Kilimanjaro—one seasoned mountaineer in the party collapsed from the altitude—but puffing and wheezing, Udall hauled himself onto the summit three days after starting. "It's something you do once and never again," he said. "The only exercise I've done this year is climb the Washington Monument." '