updated 02/21/1983 AT 01:00 AM EST

originally published 02/21/1983 AT 01:00 AM EST

Prince of a Guy
Monaco's Prince Albert has become a banker, working these days at Morgan Guaranty Trust Co. in New York. Not long ago someone tried to call him there. He asked for Prince Albert. (You may think that we're leading up to that old kids' prank where you call a smoke shop and ask, "Do you have Prince Albert in a can?" The clerk says, "Yes." You say, "Then let him out," and hang up. Ha, ha. But no, that's not what we're leading up to.) What happened was this: When the caller asked for the Prince, the operator said, "Excuse me, sir, but is Prince the first or the last name?" The caller replied: "Neither. I want to speak to Prince Albert of Monaco." "Oh," said the operator, "you mean Al Grimaldi. Hold on, sweetie, and I'll connect you."

Question: What do the simple folks do? Answer: Forget the lyrics to a song they've sung 428 times. Richard Harris took his revival of Camelot to London last November and received less-than-rave reviews. Last month, just before the all-in-all disappointing three-month run came to a close, Harris was halfway through singing What Do the Simple Folks Do? when he stopped, waved frantically at the orchestra and then announced: "Four-hundred-twenty-eight performances, and I have forgotten the lyrics. Would you believe it?" That line got the biggest hand of the evening.

National Anthems
What a talented family, these Reagans. Not only do they boast actors, politicians, actor-politicians and a former ballet dancer, but now they include a professional singer. First Daughter Patti Davis has just recorded an album in London for Runaway Records, part of Blake Edwards' entertainment empire. It is called, humbly enough, Patti Davis, and has a dozen songs—no, Hail to the Chief isn't one of them—ranging eclectically from pop to country to hard rock. Patti wrote seven of the cuts herself; the rest are classics such as the Rolling Stones' Beast of Burden. London Standard music critic Peter Holt got a sneak listen and reports: "I can vouch that it is an impressive debut. President Reagan can sleep easy as far as one aspect is concerned. Known for her antinuclear views, Patti has steered away from anything controversial in the album." In other words, it'll play in Peoria.

William Katt, TV's Greatest American Hero, went to the Manila film festival and discovered that it wasn't all film and frolic. First Lady Imelda Marcos hired six helicopters to take some of the luminaries—Katt, Robert Duvall, George Hamilton and Lord Grade—on an hour's flight to a Vietnamese refugee camp on the Bataan peninsula. As soon as they landed, Katt, whose series is aired in the Philippines, was besieged by dozens of children. Apparently the kids just love to watch Katt fly through the air with the greatest of difficulty. They demanded autographs and dragged him away from the rest of the party to a hut down the road. Katt and his manager emerged after half an hour to find all the helicopters gone. Did Bill break into his caped crusader routine? Hardly. He and his manager found someone who agreed to take them on the five-hour drive back to Manila.

Burt Reynolds owns a piece of the new Tampa Bay Bandits, part of the soon-to-debut United States Football League. So he had girlfriend Loni Anderson model a team jersey. It looked pretty good on Loni, and voilà—a poster was born. Only problem is, in the photo Anderson is holding a football that carries the clearly readable label of the rival National Football League.

From Our Partners