K.P. R.I.P.
There are perhaps a few drawbacks for British Army Capt. Mark Phillips in being Princess Anne's marital equerry, but domestic duty isn't one of them. "I honestly don't think men should have to do the cooking unless they enjoy doing it," she declares. Does that mean that the princess risks her hands over a hot stove? She would like to pull K.P. duty, she says, "but I get the feeling, having got a cook, that she might resent it if I pottered around the kitchen."

Labor Pains
At 36, Godfather filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola didn't grow up in the studio contract-star system, but he isn't too young to be nostalgic about it. "Not in the exploitative, crass way," he quickly apologizes—though Francis does feel a little burnt in trying to cast his Vietnam film, Apocalypse Now, soon to shoot in the Philippine bush. "I've talked to Jimmy Caan, and he wants $2 million," reports Coppola. "You can't blame him. If he can get $1 million for three weeks' work nearby, why go away for 16 weeks? As for Al Pacino, he just can't hack the idea of going to the jungle." Steve McQueen was game, but he wanted $3 mill for three weeks. Figures Francis: "If this kept up, the industry would some day be paying $3 million for eight hours, plus overtime, and have to shoot at the actor's house."

Affairs of State
The JFK revelations have brought out the latent Rona Barrett in every Washington reporter. So the other day the Post's Bob {All the President's Men) Woodward asked gavel-tongued Ohio Congressman Wayne Hayes, 64, when he was going to marry the lady he is living with. Hayes shot back that he thought he'd choose the same date Woodward's boss, Post executive editor Ben Bradlee, picks "to make an honest woman out of [roommate] Sally Quinn." "That's none of your business," huffed Woodward. Whereupon Hayes put the kid away: "That's what I've been trying to tell you—my private affairs are none of your business."

Fool's Gold
Though he recently appeared in the pilot for a TV spin-off of S.W.A.T., actor Stuart Whitman has not been so overworked of late that he was blasé when gold was discovered on his California property. Only trouble is his plot is directly behind the Beverly Hills Hotel, and a local ordinance precludes strip-mining or deep shaftwork. "All I would be allowed," Whitman laments, "is to pan or do hand mining."

Browned Betty
"There are too many things I don't like about Hollywood now," Lauren "Betty" Bacall found herself reflecting at 51. Like "the preoccupation with looking young. Whatever happened to growing old gracefully, for God's sake! People have their faces lifted as casually as they have their hair dyed," she continues. "I realize I could do with some improvements, but I know I would miss even the bits I don't like if they were to disappear." And speaking of disappearing, that's what happened, she now reveals, to her relationship with Frank Sinatra. "After Bogey died, I was involved with him, and it worked marvelously until the newspapers found out about it and started to drive us mad. Frank runs for his life at that sort of thing." He didn't even speak to her for years. "We are friends again now," she says, "but it took a long time."


•They don't ask questions at Lyle Tuttle's tattoo shop on the Sunset Strip, they just follow orders—like Flip Wilson's recent request to have "13" etched on his arm. Why? Because, a Wilson spokesman explains, the number 3, or any combination with it, brings him luck. Like the "3" license plate on his Porsche which was stolen last year?

•"My roaming days are over. This is the last lady in my life." So proclaimed music man Buddy Greco and none too soon. He is a thrice-wed, 49-year-old grandpa, 22 years older than that last lady, Jacklyn Sabatino, a divorced mother of two and St. Louis Playboy Club's Bunny of the Year in 1972.

•RKO General Radio VP Paul Drew is a power in the music biz—he touts deejays on what records to play. So, post-concert the other night, Bette Midler wanted his reaction to her new single, Strangers in the Night. He parried, she persisted, and he finally conceded: not much. Whereupon the Not-So-Refined Miss M wound up and shocked the room with the sound of one hand slapping.