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"Show me an actress who isn't a personality," the lady once said, "and I'll show you a woman who isn't a star." Now, at 58, Katharine Hepburn is still very much a star, but she has wearied of Hollywood's personality fetish; she grants few interviews, is rarely seen outside her private circle of friends, has even hired an agency to keep her out of the public eye. There was nothing she could do, though, about the exhibit opening last week at Manhattan's Museum of Modern Art, which paid her the honor of exhibiting 65 photos of Hepburn in many of her greatest roles. There she was, the stage-struck young beauty in 1933's Morning Glory, the prim but game Rosie in 1951's African Queen, the indomitable Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1968's The Lion in Winter. Yet nothing could capture the essential Hepburn better than her pose in the 1939 Broadway production of The Philadelphia Story, as cool and serenely regal in slacks and blouse as Botticelli's Venus.
Johnson State Park along the Pedernales in Texas boasts an impressive heed of 40 white-tailed deer, plus quite a few rabbits, ground squirrels and other rodents. But it has been woefully short in the buffalo department, with only one bull and four cows. That situation has just been corrected by Budweiser Beer Baron August Busch, a longtime friend of L.B.J., who sent the ex-President four of the shaggy ungulates—two bulls and two cows—from his private preserve at Grant's Farm outside St. Louis. Busch will hardly miss the beasts; he still has 37 of them roaming free on his 300-acre farm.
Some supplies had been tossed overboard, and heavy waves were breaking over the low-lying stern. The reports from Ra, the 45-by 15-ft. reed boat with which Thor Heyerdahl hopes to prove that ancient Egyptians may have planted their culture in the New World, sounded a good deal less optimistic than they did during the first stages of his two-month voyage. The Norwegian adventurer and his six-man crew reported their position in the Atlantic as 1,000 miles east of Martinique and still on schedule, which calls for a landfall somewhere along the coast of Central America late next month. Heyerdahl said that everyone was "working desperately." As an escort vessel put out from Martinique, he radioed: "It's a question of how long we can keep going. We're having a rough time—we're not in good shape any more."