The Mutt and Jeff of Star Wars, lanky Robot See Threepio and his squat sidekick Artoo-Deetoo have finally received a proper reward for their heroic exploits. Joining the likes of Mary Pickford, Greta Garbo, Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable, the partners immortalized their robotprints in adjoining cement blocks at Mann's Chinese Theater in Hollywood (which used to be called Grauman's). Later the villainous Lord Darth Vader also sank his black-shod feet into the wet cement. As a crowd of 3,000 looked on, See Threepio delivered a booming thank you speech while little Artoo-Deetoo emitted a becoming cacophony of whistles, sighs and beeps.
The mistress at 1142 South Perry Street, Montgomery, Ala., has been known to bug her spouse's telephone, and the husband is said to spy on his wife. The latest development in the saga of Governor George Wallace, 57, and his second wife, Cornelia, 38, is a divorce petition that mysteriously found its way into the hands of a Montgomery reporter last week. The petition, which was dated July 1977 and was signed only by Maury Smith, the Governor's attorney, had an air of finality about it: "The husband avers that there exists such a complete incompatibility of temperament the parties can no longer live together." A second document asks that the court make a decision on whether Cornelia should be allowed the "temporary use and occupancy" of the Governor's mansion. But neither document has been filed in court. When asked whether he really planned to divorce Cornelia, Wallace said simply: "Nothin' to it." But Cornelia, after a trip to Cypress Gardens, Fla., where she relived her past as a star performer on water skis, confirmed that the papers had indeed been drawn up.
Escoffier, Paul Bocuse, Michel Guerard—and now, Giscard d'Estaing. But it is not the President of France who is joining the ranks of French chefs. His daughter Valérie-Anne and her longtime friend Sylvie Pierre-Brossolette, both 23, have published a cookbook based on traditional French culinary methods and titled La Cuisine des Jeunes (Cooking for the Young). "When Sylvie and I were teen-agers," says Valérie-Anne, "we would start cooking the very moment we came near a kitchen—just normal recipes that we would invent for ourselves with the specific intention of not getting fat." Valérie-Anne, who is an editor of nonfiction works at Fayard, the publishing house that brought out her book, thinks that Americans especially need her help. After four visits to the U.S., she is convinced that "all they have to eat are usually hamburgers, ice creams and salads with French dressing that is particularly disgusting."