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Black Panther Party Chairman Bobby Seale, the Chicago Eighth whose courtroom outbursts 21 years ago caused him to be chained and gagged, has apparently mellowed. The word pig never crossed his lips when, shepherded by three bodyguards, he spoke to an audience of 4,000 in Oakland, Calif. Instead of suggesting armed rebellion, he urged his listeners to take tests for sickle-cell anemia and to vote "for survival." In a move reminiscent of oldtime political bosses, he then distributed bags of food, each containing a frozen chicken. "Politicians used to promise momma a chicken in every pot," Scale said in a gravelly voice, "but we're producing it. If necessary, we'll open a free pot program to cook the chicken in."
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When first she went to Kenya 20 years ago, Elizabeth was a princess and Jomo ("Burning Spear") Kenyatta was the underground leader of the Mau Mau, then waging a bloody war against Europeans in the British colony. It was during that visit that George VI died and Elizabeth became Queen of England. Last week she returned to Africa and met Kenyatta for the first time on Kenya soil. Now President of his country, Jomo gave the Queen his nation's highest award—the Order of the Golden Heart. Elizabeth responded by investing her host with the Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath, and—for an old warrior turned rose fancier—a silver flower bowl.
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Losing control on a steep icy pitch of New Hampshire's Mount Tecumseh, where she was skiing with seven of her eleven children, Ethel Kennedy landed on her back. Her acrobatics caused boot-top fractures of two bones in her right leg, which were set by doctors at the lodge infirmary. Hardly worth mentioning, however, compared to the snap, crackle and pop of Motorcycle Daredevil Evel Knievel, who, by rough count, broke his 101st, 102nd, 103rd and 104th bones at the Michigan State Fairgrounds last week. The latest fracture of his collarbone and ribs will not, of course, deter Knievel from his scheduled motorcycle leap this week in Sacramento, Calif., where he aims to soar over a pit filled with cars, mountain lions and 100 rattlesnakes.
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Last June Frank Sinatra announced his retirement from the world of show biz in characteristically theatrical fashion, crooning to a wet-eyed audience at a Los Angeles charity gala the last line from Angel Eyes: '"Scuse me while I disappear." Well, maybe not quite yet. Sinatra's announced plans—to "write a little bit"—may be put off by his appearance in another film, a musical based on Antoine de Saint Exupery's fairy tale, The Little Prince. The book is about a "little man" who convinces a pilot downed in the desert that life is worth living. The lure dangled before Sinatra is the pilot's role, a substantial salary and the chance to sing half a dozen songs written by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe. If Sinatra says yes, Paramount Pictures plans to release The Little Prince next Easter.