People, Jun. 9, 1975

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Interested in a $4,600 coffee table made from two Rolls-Royce radiator grilles and a slab of stainless steel? Or maybe a $1,380 three-seater sofa with a tubular frame? The Art Deco creations and their superstar price tags are the work of a London furniture company co-owned by ex-Beatle Ringo Starr and Designer Robin Cruikshank. "I had the conventional art-school training, but he comes up with some very unusual ideas," says Cruikshank of his partner. Among Starr's contributions: a doughnut-shaped fireplace and a table designed to look like a flower with petal seats that adjust in height. "With three children," says Ringo simply, "you think of these things."

"Joe never thought it would come to anything," laughed Housewife-turned-Author Rose Namath Szolnoki. After 18 months at the typewriter, however, Rose has come up with a biography of her skeptical son, New York Jets Quarterback Joe Willie Namath. The book, titled Namath: My Son Joe, is still three months away from publication, but movie rights have already been sold and Broadway Joe himself tapped for the title role. "Joe has changed a lot over the past three years," said Rose last week, sounding more like mother than author. "Before, he had this image of the big sex symbol. But now he loves staying home in the evenings, popping corn, chewing celery sticks, eating a little cheese and sipping dry wine."

When Ted Kennedy travels, there is no shortage of crowds. He even brings his own. On a tour of the Middle East last week, the Massachusetts Senator guided an entourage that included his wife Joan, daughter Kara, sisters Jean Smith and Pat Lawford, and her daughter Victoria. Sandwiched into their 6 a.m.-to-midnight schedule was a visit to the religious shrine in Meshed, Iran, where the women donned the hooded black robes required for entry into Moslem holy places. Elsewhere, however, there was less tourism and more talk of politics. How would Kennedy respond to a presidential draft at the Democratic Convention? asked one Iranian student. The Senator paused, reached into a pocket for his new gift from Saudi Arabian Crown Prince Fahd, and replied, "I'd get out my worry beads."

Despite the 50 broken bones he had already suffered as a motorcycle stunt man, Evel Knievel was back last week, hurtling his way to fame, fortune and another hospital bed. Knievel came to London's Wembley Stadium to attempt a leap over 13 single-decker buses. Twelve might have been better. The spectacular 100-m.p.h. jump, which began with Evel atop the bike, ended 140 feet later with the bike on top of Evel. "I will never jump again," he announced to a crowd of 60,000 after aides had helped him struggle to a microphone. Following a night in Whitechapel Hospital, however, where doctors diagnosed compressed vertebrae, two broken fingers and a hairline fracture of the pelvis, the battered bus jumper began talking like himself again. Explaining that he had been "busted up and in a lot of pain" when he announced his retirement, Knievel vowed to resume his road show as soon as possible.