One of the stars this year of the Westminster Kennel Club's annual New York blowout was a giant schnauzer named Quedame Dela Steingasse. Poised and properly law-abiding, he won best-in-breed, to the delight of his owner, Jack Beutel, once a sort of star himself. Beutel played opposite busty Jane Russell in The Outlaw, an eyebrow raiser of 1946 that liberated Miss Russell's bosom and gave film censors itchy scissor fingers. For Beutel, that was the high-water mark of his career before the advent of Quedame. "He's worth about $10,000," said Beutel, who received the dog as a birthday present from his wife. "His stud fee should be about $500. That's a lot more interesting than making movies."

Columbus O's new dance team of Kern and Jankowski may never be seen on national television, but that's all right. The pair went through that routine back in 1968 when, as an unbeatable passing combination, Quarterback Rex Kern and End Bruce Jankowski led Ohio State to recognition as the country's No. 1 football team and to victory in the Rose Bowl. Now, as a course requirement in the university's physical education curriculum, they are teaching seventh-and eighth-grade boys and girls ballroom and modern dance. "We could have taught handball or volleyball," said the Buckeyes, "but we like dancing."

On the average of once every 31 years for the past 2½ centuries, Princes of Wales have taken their seats in England's House of Lords. Until Prince Charles, however, none had ever entered as a qualified pilot. The day before his installment, the prince was notified that after 18 months and just under 100 hours of flying time, he had passed two written exams and an oral in such subjects as aviation law, meteorology, airframes and engines, entitling him to carry a Grade A license and to fly any small, single-engine aircraft. Apparently as impressed with a pilot's peak as his royal duty, Charles already was in pursuit of his Grade B license, for twin-engine planes. Said his father, Prince Philip, two jumps ahead of Charles as a Grade C pilot: "There is a sort of residual attitude among people who do not fly that anybody with a title is much too stupid to do anything like that."

Barnstorming with her husband through the Midwest early this month, Pat Nixon found herself tooth by jowl with two young boxers at Indianapolis' Christamore House. So far so good, but what, the First Lady wondered aloud, bulked so large in the boys' jowls? "My mouthpiece, ma'am," replied one of the young men. "Oh, is that what that is," cried Mrs. Nixon. "I always thought it was bubble gum!"

The bus carrying 16 black pro football players drove into Holly Springs, Miss., but it did not tour College or Falconer Streets, where mansions restored to antebellum splendor are thrown open to the public each year during the annual Pilgrimage. Instead, it rolled on to the back side of town to view the bombed-out remains of the school, the rickety shacks and the undernourished children running around barefoot. The group's leader, ex-Cleveland Brown Fullback Jim Brown, who directs the Black Economic Union between tough-guy movie roles, said the athletes were there to dramatize the BEU's "adopt a county" plan. They want black organizations to pick a county and provide its black people with food and clothing and an opportunity for them to help themselves. "There isn't a man here," said Brown, "who could turn the other cheek. The nature of athletes is to come back stronger than the other guy." Among those in agreement were Erich Barnes and Leroy Kelly of the Browns, hardly shrinking types.

Hugh O'Brian accepted the lead in Harpy, an original feature film made for television, just because he had never worked with an eagle before (more actors should choose their roles as sensibly). O'Brian plays an architect embittered by his marriage. As therapy, he takes off for the Sierra Nevada foothills, where he embarks upon the simpler, more restful task of training a harpy eagle to hunt wolves. "A bird expert, George Toth, trained the eagles," says O'Brian. "He's worked with eagles before, but he never had to train the performer, too. He had to try to teach me in two weeks what he had spent 30 years learning." The harpy eagle, a native of Central and South America, is a big, strong bird. With a wingspan of seven feet and a weight of 20 pounds, it can indeed kill a wolf, though in the film this achievement was indicated as having happened off-camera. A great part of training birds of prey to hunt involves going around with them on your arm for days at a time. "You have a crutch to rest your arm on," O'Brian says, "but my longest stretch was eight straight hours. You get to realize," he said thoughtfully, "that a 20-pound bird is a heavy son of a bitch."

Eagle (-2)
Birdie (-1)
Bogey (+1)
Double Bogey (+2)