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Gagging for a gaggle of admirers, Drumbeatle Ringo Starr, 24, gave one last panorama of his aching tonsils before checking in at London's University College Hospital to have them clipped. "I feel fine," he croaked, which by a furry coincidence is the title of the longhairs' latest disk—and thanks to Ringo's sick publicity, it is at the top of London lists. After doctors executed the mop-top's op, a BBC announcer flubbed: "Ringo Starr's toenails were successfully removed." He should have been condemned to the switchboard for the hard day's night that followed.
At the ripe old age of seven, Kelso is planning to retire. But the richest horse in history (total winnings: $1,900,000) aims to keep busy, says his owner, Mrs. Richard C. du Pont, 50, of the Delaware clan. Accepting a couple of trophies for him at a Thoroughbred Racing Association meeting in Manhattan, she said: "Kelso would like to help guarantee the welfare of future generations of horses." Since he is a gelding, he will do that by making fund-raising appearances for veterinary research.
Wearing shoes, stockings, a back brace and pajamas, Teddy Kennedy, 32, inched off his orthopedic bed in Boston's New England Baptist Hospital, then took his first steps since he broke his back in a plane crash last June. He walked ten feet, but the effort was so great that he could only grin and nod thanks to his doctors. Nonetheless, the junior Senator from Massachusetts swore afterward that he will walk out of the hospital in time to spend Christmas with his family in Palm Beach.
As the barracks-room balladeer who found oompah in Empah, he was famed at 25 from Mafeking to Mandalay. But in the eyes of his parents, young Rudyard Kipling was a light that seemed likely to fail. To his mother Alice, he had "a great deal that is feminine in his nature." His father, John Lockwood Kipling, a museum director in India, summoned Ruddy from school in England at 17 in hopes that working as a reporter on a Lahore newspaper might stiffen his spine. In a series of 14 letters to the boy's headmaster in Devonshire, Papa Kipling grumped: "I don't think he is of the stuff to resist temptation. Journalism seems invented for such desultory souls." Far from desultory was the bidding in London last week, where the Ruddy correspondence sold for a red-blooded $12,600.