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BOY... 


МЕТ 


CLASSIC CARS OF THE THIRTIES BY КЕМ PURDY 


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COLUMBIA RECORD CLUB now offers a brand-new selection of 


Best-Selling Records from Every Field of Music 


CLASSICAL * POPULAR * BROADWAY HITS 


THE PLATTERS. 


Encore of Golden Hits 


z| 


3. Also: Great Pre- 
tender, Enchanted, 
Magic Touch, etc. 


USTENING IN 


DEPTH 


5. Includes stereo 
balancing test and 
book — STEREO only 


Where cr When 


TIL 


ROGER WILLIAMS. 


3. Also: Arrivederci, 
= Oy My Pa 


ELLA FITZGERALD. 
sings GERSHWIN 


10. Ella swings with 
But Not for Me, Man 
1 Love, plus 10 more 


Rhapsody in Blue. 
An American in Paris 


35. "Fierce im 
and momentum" — 
WY. World-Telegram 


JOHNNY HORTON'S 
GREATEST HITS 


“My bate 
Kiew Ман 
ШАТ ке 
Bismarck 
ALTI 
тч биб more 
25. Also: Comanche, 


Johnny Reb, The Man- 
sion You Stole, etc. 


EILEEN FARRELL 
PUCCINI ARIAS 


F 


p 


HEAVENLY 


3 


JOHNNY MATHIS 


2. Also: Moonlight 
Becomes You, Моге 
Than You Know, etc. 


PING PONG 
PERCUSSION 


Muskrat Ramble 
I^ Society 


"us 10 mor @ 


al jauntiness 
as razzie- 
High Fidel. 


тағамында 
JOHNNY 
CASH А5 
Print ros Gx To 


RN SULI LE ЖИН. 
US 10 OTHERS 


Є. Also: рме Told 
Every Little Star, 
Black Magic, ele. 


21-A popular comedy 
"'Sidesplit- 
board 


La soneme 
44." Probably the fin- 
est dramatic soprano 
in the US."—Time 


23. Also: One More 
Ride, 1 Still Miss 
Someone, ete. 


‘Also: They Say 
it's Wonderful, The 
Sound of Music, etc. 


CHOPIN: 
> mu 


Se wates 


‘ANTAL сонат. 


London Symphony Orch. 
Pia Comore & abet 


41. "A slam-bang 
sound recording” — 
N. Y. Journal Amer. 


HITS 
FROM 
THE MOVIES 
еннан Раст FINS gin 
THEME FROM 


“А SUMMER PLACE”! 
DORIS DAY- Pillow Ta 


LERNER & LOEWE 


4. Aiso: Tony Ben- 
nett — Smile; Vic 
Damone — Gi 


9. “Most lavish and 
beautiful musical, a 
triumph"—Kilgallén. 


* JAZZ “ COUNTRY AND FOLK MUSIC 


...as а new member you may take 


ANY 5 


of these $3.98 to $6.98 long-playing 
12-inch records—in your choice of 


REGULAR 


HIGH-FIDELITY 


or mel 


? 


FOR 


97 


RETAIL VALUE 
UP TO $30.90 


if you join the Club now and agree to purchase as few as 5 selections 
from the more than 200 to be offered during the coming 12 months 


Here's an offer that enables you to ac- 
quire a superb record library — in regu- 
Tar high-fidelity OR stereo-fidelity — at 
truly remarkable savings! 

All 32 of the records shown here are 
pov available in both regular high- 
fidelity and stereo (except No. 5 — Lis- 
tening In Depth — stereo only). As a new. 
member, you may have ANY 5 of these 
тесегйе- іп your choice of regular Pii 
fidelity OR stereo—ALL 5 for only $1.97. 
AND JUST LOOK AT THE WIDE SELECTION 
OF RECORDS .. . 32 in all — from 
Columbia AND many other great labels! 
That's right—you not only have a choice 
of best-selling albumis by Columbia's own 
great artists—but also the most popular 
albums by favorite recording stars from 
many other record companies. 
то RECEIVE YOUR 5 RECOROS FOR $1.97 
= mail the coupon today. Be sure to 
indicate whether you want your five 
records (and all future selections) in 
regular high-fidelity or stereo. Also in- 
dicate which Club Division best suits 
your musical taste: Classical; Listening. 
and Dancing; Broadway, Movies. Tele- 
vision and Musical Comedies; Jazz. 

HOW THE CLUB OPERATES: Each month 


You may accept the monthly selection 
for your Division . . . or take any of the 
wide variety of other records offered in 
the Magazine, from all Divisions . . . or 
take NO record іп any particular month. 

Your only membership obligation is to 
purchase iive selections from the more 
than 200 records to be offered іп the 
coming 12 months. Thereafter, you have 
To further obligation to buy апу addi- 
tional records --. and you may discon- 
tinue your membership at any time. 
FREEBONUS RECORDS GIVEN REGULARLY. 
If you wish to continue as a member 
after purchasing five records, you will 
receive —FREE—a Bonus record of your 
choice for every two additional selec- 
tions you buy — = 50% dividend! 

‘The records you want are mailed and 
billed to you at the regular list price of 
$3.98 (Classical $4.98; occasional Orig- 
inal Cast recordings somewhat higher), 
plus a small mailing and handling charge. 
Stereo recorts are $1.00 more. 


NOTE: Stereo records must be 


Played 
fly on a stereo record player. M you 


у 
o not wow awn one, by all means eon- 


TE ЕТШІ РИТ the Club's staff of music experts selects | fidelity on your present phonograph and 
is ‘a poet of the record that started Back Ноте, Blue  ChangeciHeart,Love ыьан АНЫН ЫНДЫ ШАКЫ ШАА барана Pai TE 
йө" НҮ. Times the fabulous craze Hurts, Lucile, Ste. Music, These selections are fully de; | suse prone 
Téctive free each month, 
More than 1,250,000 families now enjoy the music program of 
COLUMBIA RECORD CLUB, Terre Haute, Ind. 
ТЫ D ir SEND NO MONEY Май Coupon to Receive 5 Records for $1.97 
ANDRE KOSTELANETZ 
‘The Waltz Queen Perinat | WASHINGTON COLUMBIA RECORD CLUB, De NT 
25 Row le the Hour, ert new com; 27. А vividly nale 20. When 1 Fall in [ Terre Haute, Indiana ae П 
ili We Meet Again, edian of the decade” tic performance wi ove, | Understand, e eis ome andimve rireiec 7 
Tie et арат нен НЫС O Ша l 
[THE BROTHERS FOUR] ا‎ 113 291 
end my Srecardsan 
Le ү игй а ран) REGULAR [STEREO] | „ 1, g l 
compa f... and enreit me in the following Division of the Ciub: 1 
І {cheek one Division only) з 16 asl 
І О Clo: 1 D Listening & Dancing D Jors 1 
1 Г] Broadway, Movies, Television & Musical Comedies 4 18 ЫР] 
understand that T mas select records from any Division. Y 
| ite le purchase Aye seections trom the тога dota | 5 19 37 | 
Billy the 16, “lighthearted, 4, The bestselling еН Reamer Se Jj пойыз, at терімі Жыз 
Fa EMSC BECHER C | @ зо әгі 
дае мапу, ete. "° МІРІ Stereo Review lg of all time ] Bets seeded of fay enile FREE or every two эйел 1 
Selections T accept. б-а ер 
Ттегаїкоузку: | ЕТТЕ ЕСТУДЕН | | П 
ПЫ НБА | SARA VAUGHAN] | 1812 Overture | ШІ о оз a] 
& BOLERO: LA VALSE EE 1 тез ЕЗІ 
Т слао тд ДМ ттен pir mae beltin one |15 25 4 | 
сасады NA wen tis member hip credited t0 an extabilshed Сони 
DEDE M р isse ese scene te accept om Haas | 12 26 — 1 
19. Also: Moonlight xciting La 14. Also: Love is a 4D. "The mostexcit- MI] E 
In Vermont, I'll Be unny Nut- Random Thi i Ме ingr e |'ve ever EU 
Around, etc. HighFidel. You Certain, ett. heard”—High Fidel, L.— ل ا‎ 


i Sco etra саласыны 


Member of the Corduroy Council of America. 


AMBIERS STACKS у ox ылу ete n ES Сы 


and behavior, indoors and out. University-tailored in manly all-cotton CONE CORDUROY, they have а 


mark of personal distinction, a "'snap-a-nitial" pocket tab. In black, antelope, loden or charcoal. Sizes 
28 to 42. About $5. 


CONE MILLS INC, 1440 Broadway, New York 18, N.Y- 


VARGAS 1 


CAMPBELL 


PLAYBILL 


PAUL 


SOKOL 


TAYLOR 


DEMPSEY 


INT 


CIRCLED BY A swmwestrrED coterie of admirers, our worldly-wise rabbit 
рреатэ on this month's cover in his perennial posture of savoir-faire. Noth- 
ing unusual, except for the fact that each member of his worshipful con- 
tingent. exudes an at should be instantly recognizable 
to all who follow ruaynoy's impudent and sophisticated cartoons each 
month. To symbolize our long-lived fondness for this lively and adult art 
form — which pLaysoy has been instrumental in reviving — we asked a 
tet of our most distinguished cartoonists to send along their sh 
maidens as beach companions for our blue-blaz 
—as they have heen from the carlicst issues — by freed 
ile of our own Art (Di 
From left to right, standing: а pink-skinned, bloomingly 
from the pen of John Dempsey, that cheerfully sardonic commentator on the 
seesaw struggle between the sex an his cartoon career іп the 
Seabees dur strip called Fung Chow. Next a 
typically saucer-eyed, h 
fine artist (with paintings in The Museum of Modern Art), whose charm- 
ingly old-school cartoons have been a long-time staple іп The New Yorker. 
Beside Taylor's chick, а characteristically bedroom-eved, no-nosed nymph by 
Erich Sokol, an ironically inclined Austrian who bi s a political carica- 
turist in Vienna, emigrated to the U.S. and rraynoy in 1957, where his 
voluptuous vixens have romped exclusively ever since. 
Over our rabbit's equally-coveted left shoulder peeps a slim-ankled. boun- 
teously-breasted vamp in the unmistakably stylized technique of veteran 
Alberto Vargas, who painted American beauties for the great 
Ziegfeld in the Thirties, created the Varga Girl for Esquire 
the Forties and whose peeled charmers now айо our 
pages every month. In polka dots: a ponytailed, button-eyed 
jill by Claude (neglected surname — Smith), a deft draftsman 
who never finished correspondence school in cartooning. but 
has nevertheless been a reaynoy and New Yorker regular for 
years. On the right flank, an abundantly tressed. slightly 
bemused miss fr ms Campbell, whose cartoons date 
back to the or ‘Life and Judge of the Twenties and 
whose diaphanously draped. curvy harem girls—and rotund 
sultan —were an Esquire institution for years before they 
moved over to PLavnoy. Reclining admiringly at our rabbit's 
fect: a pugnosed. ripel rounded seductress from Eldon 
Dedini, who began his career at the age of five by copying 
labels from applesauce cans, went on to become a Walt Disney 
tist, an Esquire staffer, then a New Yorker stalwart before 
ng PLavBoy last yea 


Our seven lively artists are joined from month to month 
by pLaynoy’s other regulars: Jules Feifler, Academy Award 
winning satirical cartoonist kiureate; mightily bearded Shel 


Silverstein, who entertains with drawings of his numerous 
tr . his Teevee Jeebics, his remarkable Zoo and. in this issue. something 


different for youngsters of all ages, Uncle Shelby's ABZ Book: the weird Mr. 
ahan Wilson: the sick, sick. sick Howard Shoemaker; Phil Interlandi and 
his sophisticated guys and dolls; and twin brother Frank Interlandi, a paliti- 
cal cartoonist Гог” the Des Moines Register, who has just taken up his pen 
for pLavnoy: Ben De whose specialty is lithe-limbed ladies in carefully 
ated sports cars; Bev (neglected surname — Kennedy), whose forte is 
a lithographic look at unlikely moments in the lives of historical greats; 
Richard Loehle, who takes us still further back. to 

and Egypt; ine and his bachelor babes, Babs 
whose cartoons have been amu: 
wacky. ex-Mad man Jack Davis: plus Alden Erikson, Don Madden. Bill 
Murphy, Charles E. Martin, Chuck Miller, Arnold Roth and ‘Ton Smits— 
who together supply rraysoy with the lion's share of what we aver is the 
freshest and sprightliest cartoon humor now being published. 

In another vein, but still part of the same rich ore, is this month's sheaf 
of short stories. With Reality for This Lad, Herbert Gold fashions a dis- 
quicting chronicle of a young man’s inconstant loves. Gerald Kersh etches 
The Defeat of the Demon Tailor, а Kershian exerc 
at Kling dialog, while Bruce Jay Еней 
gifts to an cerie “ghost” story, The Killer in the TV Set. In a lighter mood 
The Girls of Hawaii, a sun-splashed encomium to those exotically adm 
tured misses; “Td Rather Eat a Rotten Nectarine,” an admittedly screwball 
ütle for a satirical photd with Carl Reiner and Mel Brook: 
and Classic Cars of the Thirties, a gallery of luxurious land yachts. accom- 
panied by Ken Purdy’s eloquent explication of their compelling mystique 

Amid all this sense, nonsense and sensibility, man’s creature comforts are 
not overlooked. For those who dig a Iv updated Туу look, our 
1 Cam pus Checklist should prov ison sartorial sine qua non. 

es of Fashion profiles of. prominent. personali 

ors judgment, a distinctive point of view about 

y Curtis. Rounding out this abundant issue 

ol lt—iced delights 
t you within 


who represent, 
men's attire. Leadi 
‘Thomas М. Y 
for summertime f: 


Campus Checklist Р. 87 


ABZ Book р. 70 


ні STREET, CHICAGO 11. ILLINOIS. RETURN POST- 
AGE MIST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS 


MAD PHOTOGRAPHS SUBMITTED IF THEY ARE TO PE 
RETURNED AND NO RESPONSIBILITY сан ве ASSUMED. 
FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIALS, CONTENTS соғ! 
жекте © ser ву нин PUBLISHING co.. INC 
NOTHING мау se m 


WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE ғ 
USHER. ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE PEOPLE ANO 


MAGAZINE AND АНТ MEAL PEOPLE AND PLACES 15 
PURELY COINCIDENTAL. CREDITS: P. 56-57 PHOTO 


PLAYBOY STUDIO, Р. 75 PHOTOGRAPHS BY PLAYBOY 
STUDIO: Р. та PHOTOGRAPHS BY рон ORNITZ, P. u 
SH; P. 79 PHOTOGRAPHS eY ORNITZ; P. 80 
PHOTOGRAPHS BY ОЯМІТ2. summ: P s wore. 
GRAPHS вт ORNITE (2), SMITH: P. ат Hote. 
OKAPNS BY ORMITZ 42), SMITH | F вз PHOTOGRAPHS 
BT omma: Р, 84 PHOTOGRAPHS ny қаты (24 
M. F. WOLFE (2). опта: P. эз PHOTOGRAPH ву 
WOLFE: е. 87-49 PHOTOGRAPHS Br PLAYBOY STUDIO 


vol. 8, no. 8 — august, 1961 


CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


PLAYBILL.... Make m 3 
DEAR PLAYBOY . =. = e z 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS. 25. 13 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR педа 35 


REALITY FOR THIS LAD—fction.. HERBERT GOLD 38 


CLASSIC CARS OF THE THIRTIES—article KEN PURDY 43 


1. PAUL GETTY 49 


THE EDUCATED BARBARIANS—ertici 


TONY CURTIS: A FASHION PROFILE—atti ROBERT L GREEN 51 


COOL IT—food —. 2 THOMAS MARO 56 


THE KILLER IN THE TV SET—fiction. BRUCE JAY FRIEDMAN 59 


ADVERTISEMENTS FOR HERSELF—playboy's playmate of the month. 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor 


THE JAZZ SINGERS—erticle. = BRUCE GRIFFIN 69 


UNCLE SHELBY'S ABZ BOOK—satire — _ SHEL SILVERSTEN 70 


THE DEFEAT OF THE DEMON TAILOR—fiction .... c. GERALD KERSH 75 


THE GIRLS OF HAWAII—pictoriol essay... 78 
CAMPUS CHECKLIST attire ......... т a7 
THE ORATOR'S TRIUMPH—ribald classic 91 
"I'D RATHER EAT A ROTTEN NECTARINE"—hum ot 088 өз 


PLAYBOY'S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK-—Iravel...... PATRICK CHASE 122 


HUGH M. HEFNER editor and publisher 
А. С. SPECTORSKY associale publisher and editorial director 


ARTHUR PAUL art director 


JACK J. kesse managing editor VINCENT T. TAJIRI picture editor 


DON GOLD associate editor REID AUSTIN associate art director 
SHELDON WAX associate edilor JOHN Mastno production manager 


HOWARD W. LEDE 


MURRAY FISHER associate editor ER advertising director 


VICTOR LOWNES Ш promotion director ELDON is special projects 


ROBERT s. PREUSS business manager and circulation director 


editors; номт L. GREEN fashion direc- 
TAYLOR assistant fashion edilor; 


KEN PURDY, WALTER GOODMAN Contribulin 
tor; BLAKE RUTHERFORD fashion editor; DA! 
THOMAS MARIO food ё drink editor; PATMCK CHASE travel editor; ARLENE BOURAS 
copy editor; josten n. Paczek assistant art director; CZEK art assistant; 
BEV CHAMBERLAIN assistant picture editor; VON BRONSTE MIO POSAR staff photog- 
raphers; FERS HEARTEL assistant production manager; ANSON MOUNT college bureau; 
NY DUNN public relations manager; THEO FREDERICK personnel director; JANET 
тифлам reader service; WALTER J. нозулкти subscription fulfillment manager. 


а dan-dan-dandy Capitol 
Record Club offer that's 
the greatest ever!" 


KAY STARR. 
[^ 


plus o smoll charge 


for postage, rocking aeger ponina Cor: 
‘ond moiling Ber Pigeon, Bimini; Don't 


Di АН ~] when you become a Trial Mem- 
=ч ber of the Capitol Record Club 
(ез and agree to buy as few as 


x future selections during 
the next 12 months. 


т. MAT KING COLE. 


em 
Est 


ТА 


тозу blocs 
Tovar Eome Back 
(7 


"hd 
"hm 


142. PAUL WESTON. A now 182, GUY AOMEAROG. The 1. GERSHWIN. Kis тем 

bibum ef “Musie tor Th melody plays famous won-Rhepsooy Б 

бест nd Бола нел рар. in Blue Gnd An American 

pereas бо, Scr ie ал Gown, wik he Holyrood безі 0 
3538 Symphony. 


| CAPITOL RECORD CLUB . Department 5192, Scranton 5, Pennsylvania 
SEND МЕ-АТ ОМСЕ-ТНЕЗЕ FOUR ALBUMS | | Г | | | 


Latin ala Lee! 


Bill me only 97¢ plus a small chorge for postage, packing 


Beas 
want NUMBERS їн ORES 
Plesse accept my application for trial membership in selection of my division | пені do nothing: it will be 
the Copitel Record Club, Аса meine Tage to іу tent Lome automatically. Би I with any ol the other 
additional records during the nest twelve months, — selections ог wish no record at all that month—T'll 
from over 200 to be offered! For these records—by top notify the Club on the form always provided. IIL 
шалын нанар рал ш канда сынауы ETE 
[rated ийме ТШ pay the Cuh rice of saas or 25 Pann м ын але ҮШ Pe wean b ти М ho rte 
(occasionally $5.98), plus a small charge for post: 
packing and mailing 7 days after I receive ench album, 0076 12-inch album for each two that I buy, after m 
M NEES car meh the Mutat Agreed upon six future selections. ГЇ select ту окп. 
Capitol Record Club Review which pictures and BONUSES (rom an up-to-date list of current Capitol 
describes the monthly selections and alternate schu- best sellers. 
tions. I will enroll in one of the three Divisions of the 1 may cancel membership any time after buying six. 
Ci isted below, and whenever 1 want the monthly additional records. (Only one membership per family.) 


302. CAROUSEL. Movi 
sowed track, with Gord 
echte ond Shirley J 

They vog I 1 Loved You, 


Eu 


YOU WISH TO BE ENROLLEO Mus and Shew Айштз from Theatre, Screen and Т) З. C) Hfi Jart 


NO-RISK GUARANTEE: If not delighted, T vill retum these 4 ALBUMS within 
days and my membership will be cancelled without further obligation. 


"Thon tho Fo 
fhusen shove v Желі you in 
STEREO with ш bill tor only 21.00 | bons ede 
7] Manum Allsame and future 
Is he in STEREO. 
NOTE: Stereo records сап һе played | спу, 
only on serra equipment 


200. окан JONES. Skip- 
Ber oper sing má. 
Sila pened woo 

2 Niche lay ic 
ЕРЕ mr dois plo tert 
reu e are, CRT ас 


yeu wish o jain through a CAPITOL record desler 


thorized to slit Chub арбат rite hia nome ond edáren in the margins 
Зыр Bh 


in Conode. Серле! Record Club сі Солобо, 1184 Conleleld Avenue, Teroro. 


П 
П 
1 
П 
П 
1 
1 
1 
1 
[| 
1 
1 
I 
| CHECK THE DIVISION IN WHICH 1. O Best Seller Kit Albums (Darcimp. Listening, Миё 2. С Classical Abums 
Ц 
1 
1 
І 
П 
1 
П 
І 
і 
1 
1 
1 


Отоа 


PLAYBOY, AUGUST, 1961, VOL п, NO. B. FUELISHED MONTHLY BY ммк PUBLISHING CO. INC., PLAYBOY DUILDMG. 132 Е 
оніо ST. CHICAGO 11, ILL. SECOND CLASS POSTAGE PAID AT CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE U.S., $ TOR ONE YEAR 


; spinal 2 
ЛА EU ыкы prc. Sr. Clair. 


It's great to take chances РЕ WALKERS 
but not on your bourbon 


Walker's DeLuxe is aged twice as long 
as many other bourbons. Its extra years 
make it extra mellow. 


STRAIGHT BOURBON WHISKEY ~ 86.6 PROOF 


Walker’s DeLuxe is & years old [RU MTS WC., РЕВА, IL. 


DEAR PLAYBOY 


E] Appress PLAYBOY MAGAZINE . 232 E. ОНО ST., CHICAGO 11, ILLINOIS 


SKOAL-MATES 
You have reached the pinnacle of 
feminine pulchritude in May's cagle-cyed. 
exposition on The Girls of Sweden. Not 
only were these Scandinavian goddesses 
the most beautiful ever featured in 
PLAYBOY, but the article itself was а 
classic piece of prose. 
Brad Gage 
South Bra 


intree, Massachusetts 


The Girls of Sweden did an excellent 
job of stating in blunt terms what the 
American girl lacks. 


Bob Golden 
Troy. New York 


The vision of the young amazon on 
page 91 without a trace of andine a; 
tated my imagination more than a y 
harvest of Stateside Playmates with their 
telltale protective striping 

Phil Holland 
Californ: 


Hayward, 


That luscious smorgasbord display 
should start a mass exodus to Sweden, 
but don't you think you may һауе com- 
mitted an editorial blooper? Your Play- 
mate of the Month must have had an 
all-time low lookership, compared to the 
Whooper rating of pages 84-91. There 
was no flatbrod in that feast for wistful 
eyes; it made Miss May seem like а nice, 
sweet, sticky slab of marshmallow pic- 

Ralph Ingerson 
Dubuque, Iowa 


I found The Girls of Sweden the most 
factual and best-written article on this 
delightful subject that I have seen since 
coming to the United States two years 
yo as an exchange student from 
Goteborg, Sweden. 


R. L. Petterson 
Boise, Idaho 


You dealt very penetratingly with the 
great understanding of Swedish authori- 
ties toward the unmarried mother, But 
you didn't add that these author 
necd moncy for their activities; and guess 
who pays? They run an organization of 
Gestapoike efficiency for the purpose 
of squeezing alimony out of the male 
“sinner,” be he а Swede or a foreigner. 


Sooner or later, they get you. 
Bo Nilsson 
Uppsala, Sweden 


SCRAMBLED FONTS 

In your April issue, R. W. Denny re- 
ports the existence of a following for 
PLAYBOY in Northern Rhodesia. I can 
safely report a similar following in 
Uganda, large by our standards, too. 
However, of more interest to me is cor- 
recting the geography of Jeremy Dole, as 
well as other minutiac in his excellent 
tale, Wilbur Fonts in Africa. Hi 
newly independent country 
Alri Tamkasso, could hardly be 
bounded on the north by Uganda and 
on the south by Kenya, Even if it were, 
І am not surprised that there is eco- 
nomic instability, especially if cashews 
are the basis of the economy. One nor- 
mally refers to a playboy lion as a male, 
not à buck, and I should like very much 
to be informed where on the Uganda- 
Kenya border there is an ample stock of 
rhino. nting the errors 
details ( need by judicious use 
of authenticisms like “ a" and “ас- 
cent by Oxford"), the story is excellent. 
Did inspiration come from a recent visit 
by one of your government types? 

Henry B. Thomas 
Kampala, Uganda 

Bwana Dole, knowing full well the 
geographic impossibility of Tamkasso, 
handled it that way to avoid any implica- 
tion that it represented a specific country. 


AT ODDS 
I don't a 
clusions 


grec with T. K. Brown's con- 
Odds Man Out. For over 
ten years 1 have consistently won with 
a system —and against casinos. Not all 
gamblers go broke; the few with good 
systems such as mine do not publish 
them. 1 am not a casino owner, em- 
ployee or shill, but 1 do make a fair 
stipend against the house night after 
night. Mr. Brown is a novice who doi 
know his plus expect 
minus expectations 

Charles E. Stevens 

Wilson, North Caroli: 


ions from 


Brown's Odds Man 
sue with great inter- 


І have read T. 
Out in your M 


PLAYBOY, AUGUST, 1961, VOL, 8, NO. в, FUBLISHED MONTHLY BY нин PUBLISHING CO., IN 


5T., CMICAGO M 5. SUBSCRIPTIONS: 
S14 FOR THREE YEARS, $11 FOR TWO YEARS 
Mavaoy, 232 к. ОМО ST. 

BUILDING, 232 t, сию ST. 


M THE us 


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EVERY READING FAMILY 


K reveals that you 


Г YOUR SELr-CI 
have been missing rhe books you 
promise yourself to read because of irri- 
tating overbusyness, there is a simple 
way to break this bad habit: membership. 
in the Book-of-the-Month Club. During 
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—which will surely be as interesting 
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idend averaging more than $7 


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YOU MAY CHOOSE 


ANY THREE 
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IN A SHORT TRIAL MEMBERSHIP IN THE 
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BOOK-OF-THE-MONTH CLUB, Inc. Aros 
345 Hudson Street, New York 14, N. Y. 


Please enroll me as a member of the Book- 
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whose numbers | have indicated in boxes at 
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the sight to cancel my membership any time 
after buying Club choices (in addition 
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second Selection 
Sr altematec 1 buy. (A smali change i added 
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9 


PLAYBOY 


cst, and I agree thoroughly with him. I 
especially enjoyed his explam. 

the Lurch system. OL course, this i: 
system at all: а man lurches to the 
and makes a bet. However, this system 
has just as much chance to win as any 
other. In fact, it has a better chance, b 
cause the system player makes bet after 
bet until the odds finally break him. The 
lurcher may stagger away with a profit 


and not come back. All systems work 


ason is 


when tried out at home. The rt 
that if it fails to work the first 
systematist changes his system so th 
would have worked retroactively. Thus, 
you were to record the results of a 
thousand spins at roulette for me, 1 
could work out any number of mathe- 
matical systems that would win on those 
thousand rolls, but it would be even 
easier to work out twice as many that 
would fail. Horatius said, “How can 
man dic better than facing fearful odds. 
He may «іс better, but he won't live 
better. 


Oswald Jacoby 
Dallas, Texas 
Bridge expert. Jacoby, author of “How 
to Figure the Odds,” is an odds-on bet 
to know what he is talking about. 


COVERING LETTER 
I notice that the beautiful rraysoy 
cover girl for May ring contact 
lenses. It just proves that playboys make 
ses at girls who wear contact lenses. 
Robert L. Phillips, Manager 
Contact Lens Department 
Bausch & Lomb 
Rochester, New York 
They undoubtedly do— but not in 
this case. Our May eyeful was lensless. 
Playmate Susie Scott-on last month's 
cover was wearing contacts, however. 


is м 


OLYMPIAN ADDENDA 

When somebody tells me that he is 
engaged in a great crusade to fr 
ind from its shackles — this way, that 
way, the other way—T recall that the 
original crusaders were a bunch of 
bandits themselves. And when I per- 
ceive that the particular crusader, who 
is now so nobly shooting off his mouth, 
also making money out of his cru 
ide hand over fist, my suspicions аге 
confirmed; the guy is just another mealy- 
mouthed hypocrite who thinks it is un- 
couth to admit he is out for loot. M. 
Maurice Girodias, the Pornologist on 
Olympus who appeared in your April 
issue, gives himself away when he writes, 
concerning Lolita, 7... I was so far from 
imagining a success” — so great a suc 
cess, he means — "that I omitted to re- 
tain a share of the eventual film rights 
Now why should he have been entitled 
¢ of the movie moncy? Did he 
ite the book? No, he didn’t. Did he 
“The 


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wi 


book .. . was immediately successful.” 
And he goes on to moan about the 
author, Vladimir Nabokov, who very 
naturally resented the contract. which 
made Girodias “а junior partner, as it 
were, in his flourishing Lolita enter- 
prise." In short, the old conflict between 
the man with the money and the man 
with the idea. Somehow, I think Id 
ather be taken by a censor than а pub- 
lisher. It would be a novelty, anyhow, 
and when the censor declaimed his 
nobility of purpose, I'd know at least 
he wasn't coining money out of it. 

Avram Davidson 

New York, Naw York 


POST TIME 

Robert L. Green may be On the Right 
Track in his selection of attire for those 
birds pictured in your May issue, but 
he is glaringly on the wrong tack sug- 
кемі ¢ might handicap а futur- 
ita. Long the outstanding 
location for winter racing in this coun- 
ту, Santa Anita offers horsemen ап 
unparalleled ay of stakes for that 
particular time of year. A futurity, how- 
ever, being a stake race for two-year- 
olds, is not among them. January | is 
the birthday of all thoroughbreds г 
less of their actual foali 
since the Santa Anita тесш 
ducted from December 26 to March 11, 
two-year-olds have just become such and 
are considered too young to be exten- 
sively raced. Futurities, or for that mat- 
ter any stakes designed for two-year-old 
aren't held until late spring and, іп 
most cases, midsummer. 

Jerry Moynihan 

lewood, Califor 


ity at бап! 


SPEAK 

As far as this reader is concerned, Ken 
Purdy's Speak to Me of Immortality іп 
the May issue is one of the finest stories 
published by anybody — any time, any- 
where. 


H. Tom Miller 
Pacoima, Californi: 


UNDERWRITING 

My brother Edward and I would like 
to compliment you on the excellent arti- 
cle on Lloyd's of London. Our firm has 
had a very close association with Lloyd's 
since 1912, when our original firm was 
established in Amsterdam, Holland, and 
we still h number of perso 
friends among the Lloyd's underwriters. 
What struck us was the novelty of всей 
Lloyd's described іп ап American maga- 
zine without giving the usual impression 
of most articles that Lloyd's more or less 
gambles and specializes in unusual risks. 
We have taken the 
number of your May issues to our Lon 
don friends. 


ve a 


Henri Eyl 
New York, New York 


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HEATH COMPANY 
Benton Harbor 38, Michigan 


NAME 


AODRESS. 


11 


PLAYBOY 


12 


ILL-FATED STAR 


e 
I read John Crosby's first fiction work, 
A мағ of the First Magnitude, іп thc 
May PLAYBOY, and read it again. Some 


authors start their carcers with excellent 

HIGH & DRY GI N Mons wian Gy did. Rot 

You should let aspiring authors, whether 

they be well known or not, cut their 

teeth on lesser magazines if their mate 
rial is not up to PLAYnoy’s par. 

Robert С. McAllister 

Reading, Pennsylvania 


PLANE TALK 

As pilot, plane owner, and 
women, I can assure you th 
ain't like you 


fancier of 
it just 
à May's Invitation to 
Flying. Never mind those $100.000-plus 
junior airliners; the fact is most planes 
БЕСІНЕ 4 worth over 515.000 аге company-owned 
1S GREAT and most of the othe re owned by fam: 
4 ily men, rich in years and money. Flying, 
for its own fun, but à 
plane isn’t the vehicle for impressing 
women. By an impartial survey, two 
out of five fem: 
into a plane if their honor were 


les wouldn't be dragged 


you with oneanda-half girls where 
there should be five. Then, while you're 
checking for traffic in all directions, 
ning the instruments, retunine the 
xd adjusting the trim, you шау 
Tittle time to pass witty re- 
p marks — which can't be heard over th 
А IR th engine noise. It may impress a woman 
S e man to know you've flown a few hundred 
, miles for a date: it her ev 
who S been to more when you can't make it because of 
а cold front or a four-hundred-foot ceil 
ing. If you can afford the annual inspec 
London CEPS tions and petrol consumption of a Cessna 
310F, you don't need a plane to impress 
a date. You'll do better putting vour 
money into little gilts from Cartier's. 
Sander Rubin 
st Orange, New Jersey 


As pilot and playboy, I read with great 
interest Invitation to Flying іп your 
May issu ad! Гус been flying for 
years and have never seen such acces 

ies! All types of radio gear for navi- 
ашо pilots to n 
the job more relaxing, and low 
quency sets to make the hours. behi 
within 
m of most pilots. But that luxury 
item draped so gallantly across the body 
of the Lake amphibian is a little harder 
to come by. Perhaps you can let your 
pilotreaders know through what dis 
tributor th lable. 

Donald W. Bachmann 
Santa Monica, California 

Sorry, Donald, that was a pilot model 
2 and, therefore, unavailable to the gen- 
H eral public. 
DISTILLED LONDON DRY GIN • 90 PROOF • 100% NEUTRAL SPIRITS DISTILLED FROM GRAIN. E 

У. А.Тауіоғ & Company, New York, N.Y. Sole Distributors for the U.S.A. 


Ask the man who's been to 
London! He can tell you. Booth’s 
is a great gin—and a great value. 
"The Booth's High & Dry gin you 
buy in the United States is made 
according to the same formula 

as the Booth's High & Dry 
Ppurveyed in Britain. It is the only 
gin distilled in U S.A. under the. 
Supervision of famous Booth’s 
Distilleries, Ltd., London, 
England. Give Booth’s a try. 


PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


e realize that name«dropping is а 
highly polished art, and far be it 
from us to tell its practi 
conduct their business. Yet it seems to us 
that if any of the art's adherents sce 
the same friends often enough. they 
are liable either to run out of names to 
drop or start repeating themselves, We 
thought we might help by giving them 
additional “ammunition. Pay attention 
now, name-droppers: here arc some very 
close friends of yours whom you've 
known all your life: Tula (Tula Finklea 
syd Charisse): Hy (Hym Arluck — 
Harold Arlen): Aaron (Aaron Chwatt— 
Red Buttons); Loschy (Maria Magdalena 
von Losch — Marlene Dietrich); Gwylly 
(Gwylln Ford — Glenn Ford): Zel (Zelma 
Hedrick — Kathryn. Grayson); Lennie, 
Julie and Artie (Chico, Groucho and 
Tarpo Marx); Hube (Hubert Vallee 
Rudy Vallee): Tom (Thomas Williams 
— Tennessee Williams): Shirl (Shirley 
Schrift — Shelley Winters); Beedie (Wil- 
liam Beedle — William Holden): Hess 
(Melvyn Hesselberg — Melvyn Douglas); 
Aussie (Fred. Austerlitz — Fred Astaire); 
and Kap (Doris von Kappelhoff — Doris 
Day) And now for the highlight of 
your evening. At the propitious moment 
throw out something like this: "Oh yes, 
I know Jimmy Stewart very well, we're 
old friends.” Then when someone asks 
you if being a general has changed him 
in any way, you casually come up with, 
“Oh по, not that Jimmy Stewart — Stew- 
art Granger. You see, Stew's real name 
is James Stewart. OF course, I know the 


other James Stewart very well, too . . ." 


mers how to 


n, cocktail 
WHILE 


n in a Flint, Michi, 
lounge: PLEASE DON'T STAND UP 
ли: ROOM. IS IN. MOTION. 


Never underestimate thc 


power of 


criticism seems to be the moral in a 
Variety headline: JACKIE WILSON IMPROVES 
AFTER FAN SHOOTS HIM. 

Writer's Digest recently published а 
short instructional [cature for the edi 
fication of its writer-readers. We rather 
like the Southern drawl the title assumed 
in the "continued from" column: Gram- 


mar and Punctuatin Quiz. 


Add the following to our list of im- 
patent medicines for neurotic 
ills, cited im Playboy After Hours last 
February: Metropal, а vitamin-reinforced 
dict supplement lor urbanites who have 
trouble making friends; Damyouol, a 
drug designed to help introveris release 
hostility; Kleptomycin, a potion for per- 
sons too withdrawn to steal; Endital, а 


aginary 


д pill offering a single-tablet over- 
dose: Thanvamil. a pill for those who 
suffer from an inability to say goodnight 
to their host; and Zen-Zen, a pepper- 
mint preparation for Buddhists with 
booze breath. 


sleepi 


Know all men by these presents that 
Robert Carter Allen has filed a petition 
in bankruptcy. Mr. Allen will be remem- 
bered as the author of the book How (о 
Build a Fortune and Save on Taxes. 


A group of Midwestern speech thera- 
pists celebrated the formation of а re- 
gional association with the publication 
of a quarterly, titled Therapist. Off went 
the typescript to the printer, Back came 
the first issue. In large type, naturally, 
was the 10 "he Rapist. 

William Saroyan, partpixie and ра 
playwright. bas a new play in German, 
The Parisian Lily Dafon, 
which is already a big hit in Vienna and 


Comedy or 


Berlin. Revolving around a retelling of 
the Cinderella legend — whereby сусту- 
with a prince of sorts 
— the new play among its 
characters the following Saroyanesque 
creations: two men named George: two 
millionaires’ sons, used. interchangeably; 
four ladies named alter flowers: three 
ne 
and 
te Bardot. 


one ends up 
numbers 


talking dogs, deployed as a chorus: 
talking bird and five singing bird 


nine characters called Br 


A Position Wanted ad from a West 
last savings-and-loan п: 
‘Steno job: by blonde, no bad habits, 
willing to learn, Judi, DU 74721.” 


house oi 


‘The customer is always right- or left- 
handed. A New York City bank, recog- 
nizing the truth of this maxim, is cur 
rently issuing left-handed checkbooks for 
southpaws, 


om Dr. Walter Alvarez. Keeping 
Well column in the Chicago Sun-Time 
“I read that studies by doctors and state 
police have shown that а dose of а cer- 
tain uanquilizer plus two martinis сап 
give a man the equivalent of a drink.” 


Headline from a footwear trade publi- 
cation: SHOE WOMEN EXECUTIVES TO HEAR 
“ITS BETTER WITH YOUR SHOES Ox. 


Former Postmaster General Summer 
field was perhaps better known for his 
heated views on literature, particularly 
Lady Chatterley's Lover, than for other 
duties connected with his post. Hi 
departure from the Washington scene 
prompted one Democratic Senator to 
wisecrack: “When Arthur Summerfield 
had to return to private life, he wanted 
to find a job in which he could use his 


13 


PLAYBOY 


14 


Margarita de Cuervo Tequila 


La Margarita* has all the 
warmth, all the excitement 
of Latin music... an exotic 
cocktail based on Cuervo 
Tequila — miraculous 
distillation of the 
juice of the mescal, 
which attains its finest 
lower on the magnificent 
Cuervo hacienda in 
Jalisco, Mexico. 
Incomparable! 

“Tequila Margarit: Yer, Cuervo 


Tequilo. Ya or, Triple Sec Y or 
VERE E Shoke with 


e TEQUILA 


үне MARKET со. 105 ANGELIS, CAL 


Post Office experience, He didn't know 


pa to be a librarian or a me- LOOK 
LEAN, 
SHE'LL 
LOOK 
LONG! 


This 
Fall, 
be the 
man 
you 
know 
you are 
Slide 
into a 
pair of 
YMM 
Slacks. 
Taper 
your- 
self 
right 
down 
to your 
shoe 
tops. 


Left: THE 
S05°ER (Har- 
ley model) 


The London Evening Standard re- 
cently reported on a Swedish fisherman 
who was fined for clobbering his wife 
with a live cel. He was charged with 
cruelty to animals. 


RECORDINGS 


Enroll 
t vinyli 


сїз Dreamstreet (Octave), his 

after a three-year sell- 
posed sabbatical, proves to be a happy 
event for all concerned. The gremlinish 
Mr. С. seems to have been refreshed by 
his off-the-record hiatus. Accompanied by 
his regular partners, bı idie Cal- 
houn and drummer Kel . Erroll, 


y Martii 


nistic clichés (granted, they were 
clichés Garner had originated) that had 
turned. his last LPs into semicaricatures 
of himself. Garner's new recording com- 
pany has evidently had a therapeutic 
effect; his fertile imagination and facile 
hingers create chameleonlike shapes and 
forms for such lichen-covered evergreens 
as Just One of Those Things, Sweet Lor- 
raine and even an Oklahoma! medley 
Welcome back, Erroll! 


Four years ago. Cleveland disc jockey 
Bill Randle escorted blues singer I 
Bill Broonzy into a Chicago recording 
studio. In three sessions, Randle taped 
ten hours of the aged but still able 
Broonzy singing. playing guitar and rat 
Uing off anecdotes about his nomadic 


ехе 


se 


A wio of top tenor men in settings 
that range from distinctive to distress 
ing demonstrate tha music; 
man is an island. Let's get rid of the 
unpleasantries first. Backing Ben Web- 
ster with a string ensemble must have 
seemed at the outset to be a sound idea, 
Websters mellifluous tone would ap- 
pear to be a perfect frontispiece for the 
restrained, pasteltinted cello, viola and 
violins, but on The Warm Moods (Reprise) 
they wrn out to be obtrusive as hell. 
ndy aware, and painfully so, 


ly no 


carcer. A year later, Broonzy was dead. 
Now, in a five-LP set — Тһе Bill Broonzy Plain front, % 
top pockets 
ing rewards for the jazz buff. Big PAN AL 
Bill rambles on. recalling long-lost bud. in Orlon* and 
matie wash 
nnd wenr. At 
s t0 Sp 15 to hollers to folk songs 5 u 
to pop refrains with startling case. Our Exp 
sided view of our jazz heritage. Other YMM 
B styles from 
Where to buy 
write Playboy 
or to Jaymar- 
Ruby, Inc.. 
A: 
Indiana. 
JAYMAR- RUBY, INC.. MICH. CITY. IND. 


Story (Verve) Randle's foresight provides 
For year- 
$ Worsted” auto- 
dies and modulating from blues to work 
bettor stores 
thanks to Randle for producing this ten- ABN BY Stevens 
$10.95. For 
Department, 
igan City, 
YOUNG MAN'S MOOD SLACKS BY 
“DUPONT REGSTELED мик FOR пз жатыс FREE 


of an incessant sawing behind Webster 
that takes the bloom off some handsome 


horn work: it is especially unsettling to 


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PLAYBOY 


hear Ben's beautiful balladeering on 
Nancy, Time After Time and There's 
No You butchered by backgrounds. Paul 
Gonsalves has better luck as he finds 
"himself surrounded by kindred spirits 
On Gettin’ Together! ( Jazzland). Gonsalves, 
Ellington stalwart for some years 
now, exhibits an unsuspected facet of 
his talents with a small group (rhythm 
plus cornetist Nat Adderley) that comes 
to the fore during the sensuous sub- 
tleties of J Surrender Dear and 1 Cover 
the Waterfront. Zoot Sims’ Choice (Pacific 
Jazz), the first side recorded in 1954 with 
Gerry Mulligan and Bob Brookmeyer, 
and Side Two trped in 1959 with Russ 
Freeman and a rhythm section, has Zoot 
Iclicitously hand in glove with his fellow 
workers and in splendid instrumental 
voice, particularly on the 1959 outing 
4 which а wonderfully Zoot-suited 
ballad, You're Driving Me Crazy, and 


TE 
х. ргор does fo r шешшш Freeman-conceived Choice 
| electric shavers nsnm REO 

j has e tha га і an aural Ја 1 
Emm). what shave cream | tis зо" roe re 


porary), Helen Humes а 


does for a blade! ing, spotlights the daysgoncby Basic 


ч thrush in a dozen straightforward exam 
D ER E ED өрінен ples of freewheeling, thisistheaway-itwas 
ee warbling. The musicians, inducing many 
pie лде eee inte West Coast jazz g assembled under 
Mere dolar соор | МЇ) | the command of Marty Paich, havc 


tethered their avant-garde tendencies 10 
suit Miss Humes’ charmingly nostal- 
gic delivery. Frances Faye in Frenzy (Verve), 


QUESTION | on the other hand, is as tautly drawn аз 
کے‎ i one of Miss s piano strings. The 


Which Athletic Socks launder best? і frenetic Frances is fever-pitched througli 
[ЕЁ out as she drives her way through such 
Latin gavottes as Perfidia, Besame Mucho 


ANSWER ! and Frenesi. Her vocalizing, which is 


just this side of flipsville, leaves the lis- 


Interwoven tener in a state of ecstatic exhaustion. 
nn : Russ Garcia's group does а heroic job оГ 

Sportion oe F trying to keep up. and certainly deserves 
Socks! You К ` = some sort of commendation for mcrito 
rious achievement in the face of the 

can toss them 3 rapid-fire Miss Faye. Mavis (Reprise) is 


"ht i the ex-New Zealander Rivers at her 
right iato the burnished best. With Marty Paich help 
washing machine, ing out at the helm, M; 

а fortable middle-of-thestream course be- 


then into the dryer. \ ; ‹ tween the wayout and the way-back 

2А Miss Rivers, who alters a melody by de 
sign rather than whim, wends her way 
with knowledgeable élan through а 
enda that includes such 
uckle Rose, There's 
pin’ Bee. Chicago- 
based chanteuse Тегі Thornton, making 
her disc debut, comes on like a husky- 
throated Sarah Vaughan. This is not 


5 meant as a knock; Miss Thornton's style 
Xnter woven SPORTLON e ue ont 
ЖАҒЫ but she has а sound that’s personalized 

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Your Story, Morning Glory and What's 
New?; the rest are so much gravy. A 
small group. featuring Wynton Kelly's 
piano, provides Teri with beneficially un- 
obtrusive backdrops. 


Having complained in these pages 
about the penchant of recording com. 
panies for proliferating various versions 
of the standard repertory ad nauseam, 
we'd like to point out two factors which 
legitimize the practice: (1) a perform. 
ance superior to any other extant, (2) 
al superiority in recording. One 
recent LP comes very close to fulfilling 
both criteria. Bach's The Passion of Our Lord 
According to Saint John (London) profits 
from a thoroughly English rendering. 
The German text has been accorded 
new translation and, though purists may 
shudder, the nonlin, ic lover, 
who has had to read an English version 
while listening to the German, will be 
delighted to be spared the task. Further. 
he will no longer have to subject him- 
self to the older, more stilted, less-fitted- 
tothemusic 1929 translation by Ivor 
Atkins. English, too (ie., forthright and 
unhoked-up, yet sensible of the com 
poscrs intent and the drama of the 
story). is the performance by the Philo 
musica of London and the Choir of 
King’s College. АП soloists are English: 
the tenor, Peter Pears (who did the 
masterful translation), is not only 
but exemplifies all that's 
satisfying in this break-through perform- 

his complete emancipation from 


ist mi 


ality. The stereo sound is excellent, 
natural, spacious. 

The New Frontier (Reprise) affords а 
view of Mort Sahl аз gadfly of the Ken- 
nedy Administration. Sahl seems to be 
1 mite uncomfortable and stretching for 
material as he plays devil's advoc 
the Democrats, although he still 1 
sharply pointed quips rattling 
in his quiver— “There was a rumor 
that the Cubans were going to assa 
nate all the Kennedys. Castro denied 
it; he said they didn't have enough 
ammunition. . . . IVs funny that among 
all the bright people in the New Fron- 
tier, there don't seem to be any who 
against Kennedy in the prim. 
‘For a proposed TV skit: “John: 
What's new, dear? Jackie: | bought a 
Dior and а Cassini today. John: Can I 
see them? Jackie: Sure, сут i 
designing dresses . . ." An ima 
speech by Joe Kennedy if Jack had lost 
Ше election: "What's happened 10 our 
* of values? Docs money mean noth- 
* But the usual steady flow of dead- 
center sallics is quite noticcable by its 
absence. Perhaps Mort needs to warm 
up to his task, or maybe the Admin 
tion has to marinate for a while. 
Failure Spoil Jean Shepherd? (Elektr), on 


and Branch anyone? 


An interesting change is taking place. The big towns, 
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Inthe South and the West it has long been the byword 
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unique character of fine Kentucky bourbon, and the cool 
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“Branch” originally meant water from a clear, cool run- 

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fa pure water. 


Kentucky bourbon is such fine, flavorful 
whiskey that people don’t want its taste 
changed. That’s why the accompaniment is 

nearly always simple. People don’t drown or disguise the 
pure, honest flavor of bourbon. And it’s just as light, just 
as mild as most blended whiskies, Scotches or Canadians. 


As for Kentucky bourbon, you can’t beat Old Crow, 
preferred above all other bourbons in America. 
Morethana hundred years ago DANIEL WEBSTER 
called Old Crow “the finest in the world"—and 
it still is! Аға modern 86 proof, it is light and 
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21 


the other hand, finds marathon mono- 
logist Shepherd eyeball-deep in his own 
milieu, exhorting the Village crowd at 
One Sheridan Square. Shepherd is sent 
or plummeting by the litte 
s; he is also a nostalgia nut and 
evoke a ng image of prew 
life in South Chic ake off on the 
eccentricities of modern living: “There's 
an outfit over near Lexington Avenue 
that will make up an absolutely unchec 
able résumé for you. . . - Chicago thinks 
New York is a plo. . . . It's getting so 
that guys who listen to Thelonious 
Monk records think they're talented. . 


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Ingrid Bergman, Yves Montand, Fran- 
собе Sagan — three names to conj 
h. But not enough conjuring 
been done with them in Goedbye Again, 
adapted from Miss Sagan's dimez-Vous 
Brahms? The original was a vivid. vest- 


R.H. Barton Со, 
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knows it. Finally, she goes back to the | Зваў 
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The heavy selidranutization of 


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simultaneously audible and credible in 
English. He works hard at playing an 
expert lover, but he never quite gets the 


sin of Adim into Yves. As the youth, 
Anthony Perkins, who is rapidly becom- 
ing Mr. Coy in person, shows up at his 


worst when Coy meets Girl. 
Anatole Litvak has tried to inject some 
boulevard atmosphere into the film, but 
it turns out to be Wilshire Boulevard, and 


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PLAYBOY 


24 


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IT'S А WONDERFUL WORLD 
MDDNLIGHT DN THE GANGES 
FALLING IN LOVE WITH LDVE * | NEVER KNEW 
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Samuel Taylor's script is strictly plaster 


ol Paris. The re: 
bomb. Aimezvous bombs? 
In On the Double Danny Kaye doubles 
ck IUE encores of a lot of well-known 
"Ehere's the British bit. the 
ike-off, the Danny-type dance, 
the nonsense patter. and more hypo- 
chondria than you can shake a ther- 
mometer at. The script, if you'll pardon 
the expression, has to do with a nervous 
wartime GI in London who happens to 
look like a top English general who 
happens to be the target of Nazi spies 
So the GI is asked to masquerade - . 

and the general has a pretty wife .. . and 
when the spies get the impostor to Ber 
lin... Your kid brother could fill in the 
spaces. and if his name is Jack Rose or 
Melville Shavelson, he did. Still. vou 
cant turn Danny loose on his classic 
ded with at le: 

As the “w 
is a breath of spring. As 
illrid Hyde White purrs along 
а faithful Rolls-Royce. 
And іп one big scene. Margaret Ruther 
ford, that fullback of female frolickers, 
bucks her lines for a touchdown. AL 
though this is no ten-course fun feast 
we must give thanks in these hui 
з for even a modera 
ме of Kaye-ration. 

Peter Ustinov's film version of Remanof 
and Juliet is very weighty whimsy. His 
internationally successful nonplay at 
least provided a cozy den in which the 
ursine Ustinov could prowl, paw and 
poetize. but the film. which he wrote, 
eted, produced, stars and. stumbles 
the make-believe world 
renders it unbelievable. 
age sets fitted the fable, the 
ian location overwhelms it. 
Anyway, Ustinov's cotton-candy tale of 


ilt is something of a 


turns and not be rew: 
a modicum of hila 


starved 
meaty i 


and thu 


а romance between the Soviet ambassa 
dor's son and the American ambassador's 
daught fictitious country doesn’t 


have much of a chance with lovers like 
joyless John Gavin and featherweight 
Sandra Dee. Akim Tamiroff, the Sovict 
pa. provides samovar weariest comedy 
moments in years. Occasionally а wisp 
of Ustinoy charm slips in, but is quickly 
demolished by the pounded points and 
ht Ustinov 


pointless pounding. Playwri 
has been sor 
writerdirector producer. 


y served by his sereen- 


The Guns of Navarone, bused on Alistair 
MacLean's nocso-novel novel, is a World 
ndos — led 
regory Peck — who infiltrate a Ger 
held Greek island. Their mission: 
10 spike two huge cannons that domi- 
nate à channel through. which British 
destroyers must pass, There's a sca fight, 
a cliff- nd an impersonation — 
stagy. to be sure, but in this case the 


War IL epic about six comm; 


by 


ham is quicker than the eye. Anthony 
„апа David 
prof turned de- 
ve guts and grace, 
respectively, to the expedition. Producer 
Carl Foreman wrote the large 
script; J. Lee Thompson 
an eye for derring-do; and Dimitri Tio 
kin composed а score that supports the 
two-hour ute movie like a 
thirty-dol And cheers, chaps 
lor editor / on, who cut this 
film the waiter at Claridge's 
carves a duck. Navarone's guns are large- 
bore; the picture isn't. 


THEATER 


The Happiest Girl in the World is a mildly 
naughty musical that milks the ages for 
al, from the Nineteenth Century 
melodies of Offenbach to Lysis- 
trata, Aristophanes’ bawdy broadside 
against war. The songs, culled from The 
Tales of Hoffmann, La Perichole and a 
batch of other operettas, retain amazing 
vitality and charm, and E. Y. Harburg. 
has furnished them with bright new 
lyric. But the story of the Athenian 
matrons who denied their husbands the 
rights of the boudoir until they called 
off their war with Sparta is very old 
helmet, and ptors Fred Saidy and 
Henry Myers haven't done much to 
shine it up. While there are по сош- 
plaints about the human beings in the 
play, The Happiest Girl in the World 
belongs to two immortals borrowed from 
Bulfinch — the beautiful. goddess 
played by Janice Rule, who ca 
dance like the Graces well as handle 
the bow and arrow; and Pluto, played 
by director Cyril Ritchard, who takes 
seven lesser roles as well. This is quite a 
Jot of Mr. Ritchard, who can be a trifle 
cute on occasion; but t he has the 
spirit which, Zeus knows, this slightly 
borrowed, slightly blue book needs. At 
the Martin Beck, 302 West 45th Strect. 


The Gaelic lads, lasses and assorted 
local lushes in Donnybrook! are pugna- 
cious, larger than life and occasionally 
a Jot louder. No matter. A bit of noise 
and a spot of mayhem never hurt any 
theatrical whoop-de-do, and this one, 
based оп The Quiet Man, bubbles over 
with a dozen of the most felicitous songs 
Johnny Burke has written since the 
Crosby Hope Road pictures. Art Lund 
plays the Irish-American he: 
who, 


vyweight 
fter killing а man in the prize 
ring, quits the home of the brave for the 
imagined peace and quiet of his ances- 
ual farm in Innesfree. Lund has sworn 
never to raise his mighty fist in combat 
again. He has the right idea, but he has 
come to the wrong place. He falls in love 


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with Joan Fagan, a red-headed dish of 
dynamite w “the temper of Satan’s 
mother-in-law,” and runs afoul of Philip 
Bosco, her hulking bully of a brother, 
who looks capable of carrying out the 
threat he bellows at a neighbor, “ГЇЇ тір 
out yer arrums and choke yer to death 
wid yer own hands!" When Bosco 
welches on giving colleen Fagan her 
rightful dowry, it is only a matter of 
time and nagging before the quiet man 
is blasted out of his pacifist shell, pre 
cipitating the donnybrook that gives the 
musical its title. It's a grand brawl while 
it lasts, but the evening's showstoppers 
are incited by Eddie Foy as a puckish 
marriage broker and Susan Johnson as 
a predatory widow. Miss Johnson with 
her deadpan delivery and Foy with his 
softshoe slithering and his leprechaun's 
leer turn the party into a high-spirited 
Hibernian holiday. Erin goes bragh 
with a bang when these two take over 
the stage. At the Forty-Sixth Street The- 
ater, 226 West 46th Street. 

The distraught denizens of Feiffer’s 
fief attain flesh-and-blood status in The 
Explainers, a first try by PLAYBOY's car- 
toonist-critic at transferring his per- 
plexed people from the »rAvmov page 
to the intime stage. Herc, in a modestly 
dimensioned three-act revue produced 
by Chicago's Second-Cityniks, опе may 
encounter the Feiller Май Ave type 
behind his horn-rimmed glasses; the 
leather-jacketed Feiffersville hipster; the 

cifferdom in search of Meaning- 
itionships; and that supreme sym: 
bol of Feifferia adequacy, Bernard, 
played with effective ineffectuality by 
Bob Camp. Spiced with social comment, 
these two hours of loosely related vi- 
gnettes about Interpersonal Relations in 
the Modern Age add up to an intelligent 
in joke anthology. Docs Feilfer’s stage- 
craft add anything significant to his 
pagecraft? At its best, as in Jules’ jewel, 
Passionella, with its amply realized op 
portunities for liyely production and 
the engaging performances of Paddy 
Edwards and pantomimist Paul Sand, 
the answer is Yes. But even the briefer 
pieces will evoke chuckles апі ос 
sional guffaws — from Feifferphiles, Like 
the revue itself, the music (songs, dances 
and accompaniment), by Mathieu, 
combines sophistication with freshness 
1 charm. At the Playwrights at Second 
City, 1846 North Wells, Chicago. 


BOOKS 


John Steinbeck's The Winter of Our Dis- 
content (Viking, $4.50) combines fairy 
tale and detective story іп a parable 
about success and corruption. Its cen- 
wal figure is Ethan Allen Hawley, a 
quaint New England blucblood, who 


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Leen stripped of his birthright and 
reduced to clerking in a grocery store. 
His problem is how to recover the fam 
ily fortune, and its solution requires 
that he become expert, overnight, in 
business manipulation and intrigue. Not 
until the plums drop into his lap is his 
entire machination made clear to the 
т. All this is entertaining, but as 
usual, Steinbeck, with his penchant for 
moral fable, is after more than enter- 
tainment. The novel begins on Good 
riday, and its main subject is betrayal. 
To Ethan the Crucifixion has a deeply 
felt meaning, but this does not deter 
him from achieving proficiency as а 
Judas (selling out his boss) and as a Cain 
(causing the death of а brother-in-spirit) 


Unfortunately, the lesson to be learned 
from his corruption does not come 
through with force or clarity. Ethan 
yationalizes that he can shed immorality 
when it is no longer useful, just as he 
ave up killing after World War 1 — 
and we are inclined to believe him. But 
at the end of the novel, as he is prepar- 
ing to be 
into suicide by the discovery that his 
son, an entirely objectionable adoles- 


tycoon, he is shocked almost 


cent, has cribbed in winning an еза 
contest. It is hard to see why this flimsy 
straw should break such a back. After 
all, the son is evidently right when he 
s echoing the rest of the town, 
‘Everybody does it.” But Steinbeck does 
not show immorality generated by the 
social machine. His sense of reality is, 
as in so many of his , bio 
logical and naturalistic: "There are the 
caters and the eaten.” In a world of 
human animals, he tells us, whose civili. 
zation is all in their grace of manner, 
betrayal is not so much a sin as ап in 
cvitability. A provocative book from the 
pen of a major novelist 


ulier nove] 


Lewis Mumford, who has for forty 
years been flying the flag of civic sanity 
in the face of sun-blotting, land-gob. 
bling, trafficcchoked metropolises, attains 
both the apex of his career and the 
nadir of his pessimism in The. City in 
History (Harcourt, Brace and World. 
811.50). This Jeremiah-ish history of 
Western citification analyzes urban cul 
ture from its prehistoric origins through 
Athens, Rome, the Medieval towns and 
the Nineteenth Century industrial com. 
plexes with an eye to their lessons for 
today. But Mumford has litle hope 
that critical voice will be heard 
above the din of car horns, pile driv 
and pneumatic drills. Despairing at the 
antihuman uses to which our overgrown 
cities are being put, moralist Mumford 
compares them to a declining Rome 
marked by "the arena, the tall tenement. 
the mass contests and exhibitions, the 
football matches, the international 
beauty contests, the striptease made 


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-.. the multiplication 
ad the overexpenditure 
ds and above 
© concentration 
lib ephemeralities of all kinds, per- 
formed with supreme technical audacity 
These are symptoms of the end: m 
of demoralized power, mini 
of life. When these si 
polis is near. though not a 
stone has yet crumbled. For the biu 
barian already captured the city 
from within. Come, hangman! Come. 
vulne!” Powerful words in the pro 
phetic tradition. 


ns multi 


If your taste was whetted by rtavnoy's 
April portfolio of views from La Vi 
Parisienne, the handsome book from 
previewed is now avail 
ble. The Girls from to Vie Parisienne (Ci 
of stylized cuties 
din the piquant 
full. sixty 
rs (1870-1930) held the eye of the 
ntinental connoisseur. They should 
have no trouble holding yours as well. 


After twenty-seven summers of being 
spirited into this country by college stu 
dents under dust jackets advertising 
Апарһоға of Great. Eucharistic Prayer, 
the pre-eminent work of Americ 
pious pornographer, Henry М 
at last been pub 
shores. Following its victor 
Chatterley case, Grove Press has launched 
a second major assault against the bu 
warks of 0.5. book censorship w 
Tropic of Cancer (Grov 
Peck's Bad Boy Abroad, a funny, furi- 
ous, phantasmagoric first-person account 
of men and whores in the promiscuous 
Paris of the Twenties. It is a biuer book 
‘ver more so than when Miller recalls 
Ше in Vhen I think of 
born and гар 


"s least 


jer, has 
shed on his native 
1 the Lady 


h 
0), ап adult 


Americ: 
ed, 


blind, white rage licks my guts... A 
whole city erected over a hollow pit of 
nothingness.”), but it also has stretches 
of wild humor. Mil 


ment and genteel ro 
is possessed of ап uninhil sur 
istic imuginaon. He never minces 


ver 
book," Miller 
a prolonged insult 
gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in 
the pants to God, Man. Destiny, Time 
Love, Beauty . .. what you will.” After 
а quarter of a century, this brilliantly 
written, shamelessly shocking ode to 
fornication and philosophy stands as 
one of the key works of American lite 
ture in our century. 


CARLSBERG INTRODUCES THE SPORTSMAN 


Wherever he faces the “moment of truth"—in steaming 
jungle, sun-baked yeldt, windswept tundra or the frozen 
steps of the Squaw Valley Stadium—the intrepid Sports- 
man Quaffer has discovered the infallible answer: 

Lavish Carlsberg Beer on all concerned. 

Such largess, he has learned, engenders unique results. 
The lion lies with the Jamb and legend has it that even 
the Hatfields and McCoys have walked off in complete har- 
mony after sharing the ineffable joy of quafling Carlsberg 
Beer. 

As dedicated to sports as he is to Carlsberg, the Sports- 
man Quaffer will brook no imbalance between the two. 
His athletic pursuits are confined solely to the 111 countries 
where Carlsberg is sold. 

He comes schussing down snow-packed slopes only where 
he is certain a Carlsberg-equipped lodge awaits his pleasure. 
Though he yields to no man in his appreciation of a master- 
ful estocada—not a matador alive could induce him to 
spend a hot afternoon at a Carlsbergless bullfight. 

He stands waist deep in a rushing torrent presenting a 
Quill Gordon fly for the finicky appetite of the wily brown 
trout—while a full complement of Carlsberg Beer cools in 
the stream. His summer Sunday solace is the 19th hole 
where he replays every stroke between quaffs of Carlsberg. 

As man inexorably progresses to the reaches of outer 
space and the 16-foot pole vault—the Sportsman Ошайег 
will remain in the forefront of those who push ahcad— 


QUAFFER 


jewel green Carlsberg bottle held on high in a toast to 
victor and vanquished alike. 

His devotion to Carlsberg is unparalleled because Carls- 
berg is an extraordinary beer, а decidedly individual beer. 
It is so pleasant to the palate that you need not acquire a 
taste for it. You just fall in love with it at first quaff—and 
the love affair is enduring. It is incredibly good going down 
and there is absolutcly no bitterness afterward, 

Ask for Carlsberg at your favorite dining place or at fine 
stores in your neighborhood in any of the 111 countries іп 
which it is sold. If the answer is no—remon- 
strate! Carlsberg is not in short supply. There 
are 70 fruitful acres devoted to the production 
of Carlsberg—the glorious beer of Copenhagen. 

Skål! 


ow 


Brewed and bottled by the Carlsberg Breweries, Copenhagen, Denmark 
Copyright 1961, Carlsberg Agency, Inc., 104 E. 40th St, New York 16, М. Y. 


PLAYBOY 


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THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


V just purchased what was advertised as 
а nine-ounce summer s Skeptic that 
lam, I weighed it at home. If that's a 
nine- cight-pound 
weakling.—R. L, Denver, Colorado. 

With no reflection on your proportions 
or physical prowess, that may very well 
be a nine-ounce suit. The figure refers 
to the weight of a yard of the cloth, not 
the total weight of the suit. 


А girl whom I've been seeing fairly 
frequently is finely structured but some- 
what lacking іп gray matter. This 
bothers me not at all (her other attri- 
butes far outweigh her lack), except 
when we are in the company of others. 
She insists on injecting a steady stream 
of grammatically mangled sentences. I 
don't think Im a snob, but J must admit 
she embarrasses me when she makes 
such a display of her intellectual inno- 
cence. Is there anything I can do diplo- 
matically to turn off my Miss Mala- 
prop? — C. M., Dallas, Texas. 

If she is as intellectually innocent as 
you say, don't try to muffle her; it will 
only inhibit the girl. Instead, play it for 
all it's worth. Create the impression that 
her garbled grammar is dizzily delightful; 
when she deihrones the King's Eng- 
lish, laugh it up. Build hey into a char- 
acter straight out of Anita Loos — your 
own Carol Channing. Your friends will 
мап secing her in a new light. If Miss 
Information takes umbrage and decides 
lo keep her mouth shut, you're still 
ahcad of the game. 


‘ve booked passage to Europe this 
nd would like to take my car, a 
iter, h me. I've been told that 
a costly, complicated affair both 
going and coming and not worth the 
effort. Is this really the casc?— T. P, 
Detroit, Michigan. 

To a degree; the process is involued 
and certainly по bargain. First, you'll 
need a һа Ші of documents when driving 
abroad: your Stateside driver's license, 
of course; if you're confining your tour- 
ing to one country, you'll need a Trip- 
tyque; if, as is usually the case, you're 
traveling through (wo or more coun- 
tries, you'll be required to have а “Сат- 
nei de Passages еп Douanes” (the names 
of these documents are French по mat- 
ter what the country), an International 
Driving Permit, International License 
Plates and International Registration 
Certificate. Additionally, most Euro- 
pean countries require a good-sized bond 
while you're motoring on their roads. 
Shipping costs will be somewhcre be- 
tween $300 and $600, depending upon 
the weight, for а round-trip passage, and 
only slightly less one way. You'll 


need insurance against damage en route, 
and public liability insurance, manda- 
tory in a number of European coun- 
tries. Driving your own car through 
Europe can be fun, but the red tape 
involved can take a good deal of the 
саре off it. You'd be much wiser tent- 
ing a car in Europe or buying one there 
with the proviso of reselling it (as a used 
сат, of course) to the dealer when you've 
completed your vacation. European cars 
are designed for the Continent’s some- 
times unique driving conditions; they're 
gas misers (European gasoline prices are 
stratospheric), don't require high-test (in 
short supply over there), and they'll get 
you in and out of quaint little villages 
with casc. Rental charges in most Euro- 
pean countries are quite modesl, espe- 
cially if you're going over during 
offseason. You can arrange purchase or 
rental beforehand on this side of the 
Atlantic from such outfits ав Auto- 
Europe, Europe by Car, or International 
Auto Plan (all located in New York City). 


“Мая what is an apéritif? I've cased 
them on wine lists, but. not quite 
sure just what they are and when they're 
served. — I. M., New York, New York. 

Aperitifs are gentle-spivited appetite 
stimuli that are held in much greater 
esteem than cocktails by large segments 
of the civilized world. Because they are 
of much lower alcoholic content than, 
say, a martini, apéritifs usually leave the 
bibber with his taste buds intact and 
ready to enjoy jully the repast about to 
be served. They are divided between 
those that are wine-based (quinine-tinged 
vermouths and more strongly quinined 
wines such as Dubonnet) and those that 
are distilled (which are subdivided into 
aromatic bitters, and anise-licorice apéri- 
tijs such as Pernod апа raki). А periph- 
cial drink that is considered an apéri- 
tij, and a splendid one, is cassis mixed 
with dry vermouth or a dry white wine. 


AAs a fairly new convert to boating, 
I can handle myself well enough as 
member of teur crew, but 
still bugged (and feel like a dope) when 
more experienced salts look at sailboats 
and make marks like “Nice-looking 
cutter,” or “That sloop would be faster 
and balance better if she were mast- 
headed," or “There's a yawl with a 
mizzen almost as big as if she were a 
ketch.” In other words, arc there si 
ways of recognizing за 
New London, Connecticut. 

It's possible to get through the verdi- 
gris and down to brass stanchions in 
fairly uncomplicated fashion; sailboats 
fall into six major categories: catboat, 


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sloop, yawl, ketch, cutter and schooner. 
Basically, they can be identified as fol- 
lows: the cutter, catboat and sloop are 
single-masted rigs. The cutter and sloop 
differ in that the sloop's mast is set 
farther forward than that of the cutter 
Since its mast is farther afl, the cutters 
headsails (forward of the mast) are larger 
in arca. than the sloop’s. The catboat’s 
mast is right up in the bow and carries 
no headsails, only a main. Today, the 
yawl, schooner and ketch are two-masted 
rigs (though some old schooners had аз 
many as six masts) The yawl and 
ketch differ in placement of the mizzen 
(shorter) mast with respect to the rudder 
post. The yawl's mizzenmast is set aft of 
the rudder post and carries a small sail 
The ketch’s mizzenmast is set forward of 
the rudder post and carries а com pa: 
atively large sail, though not as large as 
the mainsail. The schooner is a sort of 
reverse-English ketch; the mainmast is 
aft of midships, with the mi 
farther forward. 


nmast 


W have recently turned my attentions 
toward a young widow whose husband 
died seve go. She worshiped 
the guy, and her sincerest form of flat 
tery is to tell me that I measure up to 
him — almost. It would be bad enough 
simply having to compete with the di 
parted; what is worse is that I knew 
irly well and сап bear 
eyewitness to the fact that he was à 
rabid extramarital skirt-chaser. Shall 1 
let the lady in on this, or should | try to 
find a less distasteful wav of exorcising a 
ghost? —E. P. Richmond, Virginia. 

Probably the least effective thing you 
could do would be to lip off your friend 
to hei late husband's behavior, At worst 
you'll be put down as a liar or, at best, 
ауа contemptible cad who speaks ill of 
the dead. In either case, you'll have had 
it. Shakespeare, as usual, said it best: 
“Vex not his ghost: O! Let him pass!” 
It would seem admirable on her part to 
have felt so strongly attached to her late 
husband, but time heals all wounds and 
often wounds all heels. As your image 
grows stronger, his will fade. She obvi- 
ously likes you; be yourself and one day 
she'll give up the ghost. 


her late spouse 


11 reasonable questions — from fash 
jon, food and drink, hi-fi and sports cars 
to dating dilemmas, taste and etiquette 
= will be personally answered if the 
writer includes а stamped, self-addressed 
envelope. Send all letters to The Playboy 
Advisor, Playboy Building, 232 E. Ohio 
Street, Chicago 11, Illinois. The most 
provocative, pertinent queries will be 
presented on this page each month. 


SPEGIAL EDITION 


Playboy Club News 


AUGUST 1961 | 


NEW ORLEANS CLUB OPENS OCT. 15TH! 


Fabulous Fun Center Set 
for Famed French Quarter 


NEW ORLEANS (Special) 
—On October 15th those who 
own a Playboy Club Key will 
find that it opens the door to 
still another of PLAYBOY Mag- 
azinc's nationwide chain of 
Clubs. On that day the posh 
New Orleans Playboy Club, 
located at 725 Rue Iberville, 
just off Bourbon St., will 
officially debut. 

Тһе New Orleans Club offers 
Keyholders all the luxury fca- 
tures found in the Chicago and 
Miami Clubs—the swinging 
Penthouse and Library show- 
rooms with their parade of 
sophisticated talent; the Play- 
mate Bar with a magnificent 
hi-fi stercoentertainment cen- 
ter; a closed-circuit TV system 
that permits you to watch for 
friends and keep “ап eye оп 
the door? anywhere in the 
Club; the sumptuous 73 
Room Buffet, the Penthouse 
Prime Platter and the hearty 
Playboy Club Breakfast for 
“early” stayers (and you al- 
ways dine heartily—be it 
breakfast, luneheon or ner 
—for the price of just one 
drink). And, of course, there'll 
be fifty nifty Bunnies to 
brighten the setting. 

АП this swinging scene, in- 
cluding the best in jazz. 
be sct among appropriate 
touehes of New Orleans ele- 
gance from a by-gone era— 
priceless Baccarat chandeliers, 
intimate alcoves and open-ai 
terraces trimmed with tradi- 
tional wrought iron grillwork. 


PLAYBOY CLUB LOCATIONS 

Clubs Open—116 E. Walton St. 

in Chieago; 7701 Biscayne 

pya in Miami. 

Se 5 Rue Iberville 

lew Orleans; 5 East 59th 

St. in New York; 8580 Sunset 
Blvd. in Los Angeles. 

Nextin Line— Pittsburgh, Sello Son 


бк ОС. е 


“FASTEST МАМ” АТ 
THE PLAYBOY CLUB| 


FAMED TEST PILOT 
RELAXES AT CHICAGO CLUB 


CHICAGO, May 10— 
Scott Crossfield, pilot of North 
American Aviation's X-15 plane 
which probes the fringes of outer 
space, along with lady astronaut 
Jerry Cobb (the first woman іп 
history to be qualified for venture 
into outer space), recently found 
the Chicago Club Library а 
high spot during a visit to Chicago. 
The Bunny at right is lovely 
Barbara Grant. 

Crossfield, Miss Cobb апа 
Doctor Lovelace, expert on space 
medicine, were guests ata party for 
American Machine and Foundry. 


PRIVATE PARTIES A HIT 
WITH KEYHOLDERS 


Only individuals may own a 
key to the Playboy Club, but a 
Keyholder may bring in 
guests as he wishes. This fu 
dramatized when а Keyholder 
reserves a room for a private 
party for himself or his company. 

Recent. parties have been ar- 
ranged by Keyholders for groups 
from Ryerson Sieel, Great Lakes 
Chemical, General Ейесігіс, 
Motorola, Pepsi Cola, American 
Bankers Association, and Champion. 
Spark Plug. Parties vary in size 
from ten persons to over one 
hundred. 


PLAYBOY CLUB TALENT LINEUP 


CHICAGO (July 22 to August 11 


"Three Young Men, Patti Leeds, Danny 
y Mnlone, Wick and Brand, Ron Ri 


. Boh Davis Trio, 
and swinging pianist Claude Jones. 


(Opening August 12)— Vince Mauro, Chico Randall Trio, Peggy Lord, Mello- 


Larks, The Great Y onely. 


MIAMI (July 22 to August 11)—Martine Dalto 
дат 


Ames, Ponie Pryor, 


"Teddy Napoleon at the piano. (Opening Augu 
Hunter, Mark Russell (holdover), Three Y. 


Murk Russell, Jimmy 
io. plus Herbie Brock and 
12) Van Dorn Sisters, Lurlean 
ng Men, and Fred Barber: 


Luncheon— Dinner —Breakfast at the Club 


BOTH CHICAGO AND MIAMI CLUBS OFFER A DELICHTFUL LY 
ROOM BUFFET STARTING AT 11:30 А.М. DAILY. A Buffet Key, ohtains 
from any Bunny or Barman throughout the Club, unlocks the pleasures of 
the Playboy Club Buffet served in the Living Room and changed at various 
imes during the day, offering a menu in keeping with the 
ey entitles you to a complete luncheon, dinner or wee-erm 
for the price of a single drink, In the Penthouse, the famous Playboy Prime 
Steak Platter is served under the same unique price-of-a-drink policy. 


ING. 


MIAMI BUNNY HOP A SMASH SUCCESS! 


MIAMI (Special) — Keyholders 
joining Ше "Bunny Hop Cham- 
pagne Flight" from Chicago to 
Miami, to "open" Ше Miami 
Playboy Club, found themselves in. 
fine company. On the flight were 
beautiful Bunnies from Chicago; 
famed Playmates in person; ехеси- 
tives from ruaxsox Maga: 


ten cases of champagne. The visit 
was climaxed by a special party at 
the new Miami Playboy Club. 
“Bunny Hops” are planned for 
other openings in the future. “Hop 
on board" for a real PLAYBOY 


Jun time! 


LI 

International Playboy Clubs, Inc. LI 

c/o PLAYBOY Magazine, 232 E. Ohio Strect, П 

Chicago 11, Illinois 1 

Gentlemen: 1 

Please send me full information about joining The Playboy П 
Club. I understand that if my application for Key Pri s 

accepted, my Key will admit me to Playboy Clubs now іп Ш 

operation and others that will soon go into operation in major | 

[| 

I 

i 

1 

I 

[| 

= 


ei in the U.S. and abroad. 


Name. 
(please print) 


D ———— 1) 


City. Zone, County State — 
шашы шы ша өш шы шы шы шы шы ше шы ти тш жы өш ши ше км км шш 


а banana off the refrigerator in the alcove. Не 
huddled on a stool, peeled the banana, and filled 
his mouth with the sweetish paste. 

All at once, he regretted his courage. Suddenly, as 
he tried to eat, the ceiling was cranked down upon 
him so that he had to hunch his back in order to 
keep from being crushed. Only the taste of fruit 
could save him now, and the banana was followed 
by a cold ripe peach. Again thick juice squirted on 
his hands. By eating he saved himself from the crisis 
of loneliness, and then went to bed at a strange early 
hour on that Saturday evening, just as if he had made 
‘love to Sarah again all the afternoon. A dinner of 
two pears, a banana and a peach; a swollen sleep 
before the smoky dusk of Riverside Drive had deep- 
ened into night outside his window; evasions, fears, 
indigestion, a sweating forehead, dreams of isolation. 

But when he awoke, very early, just after sunrise 
on a springtime Sunday, he found himself with good 
appetite for the day. This pale young man, plump 
but graceful, with the easy stride of a tennis player 
and the soft middle of a man who had suddenly 
given up sport —he would go back to tennis, he 
would join a health club—strolled among early 
churchgoers, discovering the morning, and had the 
Sunday Times with his breakfast in а Rudley’s. 
French toast because that was his mother's habit on 
Sunday. Eggs were for weekdays. The Sunday Times 
was for Sunday. He loafed the whole day through, 
with no afternoon longing for Sarah, no evening 
depression, and with a thrill of anticipation went to 
work on The Street Monday morning in his familiar 
crowd of stenographers and secretaries and female 
junior executives. Which unmarried one was for 
him? Which hopeful and bright one? Which fresh 
girl, full of juice, amid this crowd of carefully 
groomed or cleverly mussed ladies? 

The phrase which defined his employment — “1 
work on The Street” — always gave him a twinge of 
embarrassment. It meant that he worked on Wall 
Street: Saratoga Springs, Princeton, liberal arts; he 
followed this familiar path of the bright enough, 
lazy enough, not much skilled young man of good 
family. But from his wanderyear in Europe (parents 
dead, small legacy), he had learned that “on The 
Street” is a common phrase for prostitution, and 
now he wondered why he should ever have been 
pleased with his job. He sold stock to friends he had 
grown up with in Saratoga, the last vestiges of the 
old racing aristocracy (talk of famous horses); he 
picked up new customers in Southampton and at his 
clubs in town (talk of old Princeton days and the 
sick comics, talk of the “jet set”); he managed the 
portfolios of a few griping, talkative, bluc-haircd 
widows, who fancied him their cleyer son. And how 
endlessly they gossiped on the telephone! And the 
teas hc had to take with them on their birthdays! 
‘They seemed to have several birthdays a year, though 
they never grew any older. 

Peter had по real money of his own (“real money” 
is capital, not earnings), but he had a courteous man- 
ner, а retentive mind, a head of pale, barely thin- 
ning hair which he kept meticulously brushed, and 
an attractive air of melancholy which nevertheless 


ILLUSTRATION BY MICHAEL BRAMMAN 


PLAYBOY 


did not depress anyone; his mouth was 
small, firm, full and intelligent; his eyes 
were blue and light under eyebrows 
darker than his hair, habitually drawn 
together with an expression both com- 
plex and unthreatening; his words were 
direct, discreet and courteous all at once, 
and also sheathed an edge of judgment 
in the silence between them. Such a 
young man repays study by the discern. 
ing executive, and so it was with Peter 
Hattan. He was no longer a mere cus- 
tomer’s man in the small firm where he 
worked. When one of the senior men 
came down with a popular disease (male 
climacteric: tantrums and inefficiency), 
and had to be eased into an improvised 
chairmanship, the surviving members of 
the firm looked at Pete Hattan and 
found him good. He was given their 
most junior junior partnership and as- 
signed to study electronics and chem- 
icals. 

The cold war ran along nicely, with 
absorbing perturbations. Electronics and 
chemicals did well, and somehow this 
was put down to the credit of Peter, 
although he assured both the senior men 
and his clicnts that the scientists, the 
military and the politicians went their 
way without considering his hopes of 
fortune. Nevertheless, he was а messen- 
ger of good tidings, and the messenger 
had chosen well among companies and 
projects. Pete turned into his thirties 
and decided it was time to move on. 
Not really a grasping young man, he 
kept his large, faintly bohemian, one- 
room apartment, defying convention by 
remaining on the unfashionable West 
Side just because he liked his view of 
the Spry sign across the river on the 
Palisades; he made a bow to his success 
by buying a Jaguar, which spent most of 
its time in a garage; now he took a 
winter two weeks in Mexico and a sum- 
mer two weeks in Paris. But the main 
resolution was about Sarah. And after 
less than a year of deliberation, he had 
lived up to it. When she would not leave 
her husband for him, he finally left that 
note of goodbye under the knocker on 
his door. 

And now the freedom of crotic ad- 
venturing after all this stern fidelity. 
Pete sat at his desk, inhaled deeply and 
proudly, and took his first call of the 
week from a widow who wondered if 
they shouldn't maybe switch from U.S. 
Borax to IBM. On the one hand, IBM 
can buy up almost any new device of 
consequence, or improve on it, true. But 
on the other hand, U.S. Borax has all 
that borax in the ground and an active 
research department discovering new 
uses for it besides soap and high-energy 
fuel. “And cetera.” Pete commented to 
his first widow of the day. He had a 
little repertory of these banal, mysteri- 
ous phrases with which he cut off the 
old ladies before lunch. 


But this time she replied crankily, 
“And cetera yourself, Peter, that reminds 
me. I just can't be alone on my wedding 
anniversary this year. Poor Mr. Warden 
passed away he died God bless almost 
seventeen years ago, so stop by, will 
you?” He felt it coming by the shrill 
leer of intention in her voice: “Му 
niece — ” 

OK, OK. He knew these herds of 
nieces —long-toothed spinsters with fes- 
toons of lace hanging from the collar- 
bones to give grace to their no-bosom 
bosoms. No, he would not do that job. 
He believed in love before inherited 
capital. This was not the way for Mrs. 
Warden to develop new uses for borax, 
either. But of course he would have to 
take the tca with her anyway, with pink 
cookies and napkins of a linen thick as 
white fur. 

The niece. Ah Elsie, the niece. That 
profligate fate which has blessed New 
York and San Francisco and a few other 
American places distributes pretty girls 
where they are needed, and often just 
when. Elsie was no long-toothed spin- 
ster with a coated tongue; she was no 
glamorous beauty, either; she was merely 
an electric and pert little breathless 
thing, freshly styled by Sarah Lawrence, 
who wanted to be an avant-garde ac- 
tress (no other guard would do). “You 
mean you want to play lesbians?” Peter 
asked, in order to see her blush and 
make her understand that he was an ex- 
ceptional stockbroker. 

He saw her blush. “What kind of a 
stockbroker are you?” 

“Please, I'm a customer's man.” 

“Shush anyway, Auntie will hear you.” 

she answered, and true enough, Auntie 
did hear them. 
“You young folks must have lots to 
discuss, so will you excuse me? I don't 
understand the theater any more.” And 
with a satisficd glower on her hairy, 
high-pressured face, the old lady went 
upstairs to dress for dinner. 

"They were alone and silent amid the 
diminishing afternoon and the reflection 
of light on silver. Elsie had small eyes, 
carefully extended. by make-up, thickly 
veiled by dark lashes, and a small pert 
face which would get prettier and pret- 
tier until it abruptly crossed the border 
into matrondom. With a point of con- 
science, Peter realized that his silence 
was a paltry revenge on Sarah — he was 
trying to take control this time. And 
with a still sharper point of exacerbated 
pride, he wondered if his silence did not 
in effect give the control to Elsie. 

“There were — " she said timidly. 

He coughed and waited. 

“Do you have a cold?” 

He shook his head and waited. 

“There was,” she said. No interrup- 
tions. And then all in a rush: “A-girl- 
like-that-in-school.” And her face went 
crimson in the last glow of sunlight 


under the blinds. 

A trumpet sounded in Peter's ear; he 
had won! His delay did not give over 
contro] after alll She was waiting for 
his lead! (The trumpet was also Mrs. 
Warden asking if he wanted an um- 
brella some damn fool had left in her 
umbrella stand six months ago.) 

“No,” he said, taking the hint, taking 
Elsie with him. They enjoyed dinner 
together, an illuminating discussion of 
the troubles “a girl like that" can get 
into, and, of all things, a neighborhood 
movie, Going to a neighborhood movie 
seemed somehow the subtle and compli- 
cated gesture: to remove her from her 
class, habits and expectations. He con- 
tinued this original program of varia- 
tion on the expected pattern by taking 
her to bed on the following evening, 
without the movie. Thereafter, for sev- 
eral weeks, they followed a rhythmically 
varied schedule, movie or bed, bed or 
movie, on alternate nights. By this time 
Peter discovered that he had almost ex- 
hausted the available stock of films and 
he began to notice about Elsie those 
little defects which men gratefully seize 
upon in order to make excuses for their 
own diminishing ardor: Her handwrit 
ing slanted backwards. She could not 
walk barefoot gracefully, since the ten- 
dons of her feet had been stretched by 
high heels, and she was a ludicrous spec- 
tacle on her way to the bathroom in the 
mornings. She preferred the Germans to 
the French, and this seemed inexcusable 
(the usual grounds: plumbing and po- 
liteness). 

Worse, she wore her tiny eyelids cov- 
ered with silver make-up and had the 
habit of modestly closing her eyes and 
fluttering the lids whenever she said 
something that implied faint flattery of 
herself. But as her entire repertory of 
philosophy, judgment, observation and 
comment all softly praised her own per 
spicuity, generosity and elevation of 
spirit, her face seemed to have no eyes 
for looking outward—only those two 
agitated, quicksilver, triangular spaces. 
“I never judge people . . “I can always 
tell from the way a man says hello if 
he's nice or just out for what he can 
get — you know — by that I mean a good 
time" And when she spoke about the 
“girl like that" at school, she meant to 
add, and did: “I may be a rebel and 
all that, but at least I'm normal.” 

What, thought Peter, must I do to get 
rid of Elsie? Before I am required to 
strangle her, that is. And do I run a 
chance of losing Mrs. Warden's account 
on grounds of having broken the wind- 
pipe of her nicce? 

He worried about this for several 
weeks, until Elsie announced that she 
had been offered the role of a corpse in 
a play by Ionesco, in return for which 
all she had to supply was part of the 

(continued on page 42) 


“You've had enough." 


4l 


PLAYBOY 


42 


REALITY FOR THIS LAD (continued from page 40) 


financing for the play (“Off Broadway 
it's not very expensive”) and а few har- 
monious moments with the producer 
(male — Elsie was normal); and thus, on 
excellent terms, with Elsie very proud 
of her silvery-lidded business and artistic 
heads, they parted. Peter promised to 
come to opening night, but promptly 
forgot about it. Mrs. Warden restlessly 
shuffled her holdings about a bit (Gen- 
eral Dynamics and Getty Oil), and then 
was quiet. 

The life of the putative Strangler of 
Wall Street was suddenly much too 
quiet. He found himself shocked awake 
in the night, trapping his dream before 
it fled—Sarah’s sleepy afternoon са- 
resses. Elsie had blown through his life 
like a trial subscription to an unwanted 
magazine; his loneliness returned with 
its old-time insistence. He strolled down 
Broadway and gazed at the stylish loi- 
terers, tne beatnik girls all in black, the 
young marrieds doing their shopping in 
pedal-pushers, the Puerto Rican girls 
in voluminous gaily-colored skirts, all 
these women who wanted to, lived for, 
schemed at, and perhaps actually suc- 
ceeded in making men happy. New York 
was full of women. Peter was full of 
longing. The subway shock the pave- 
ment at his feet and he thought, with 
lugnbrious self-pity: In ten years I'll 
be over forty. 

He grinned at this idea, close relative 
to the child’s dream of his parents weep- 
ing by the side of his grave. He grinned 
under his burden of self-pity and nos- 
talgia on the streets of New York, where 
med to have found her 
ist to expect him soon. He 
judged himself, was not content. 

To distract himself, he plunged and 
replunged into the study of love. He 
behaved as if he were studying those 
others, the girls, but in fact he knew 
he was studying himself, and this did 
not displease him. He began to develop 
his private theories, like all men who 
live alone too much with women. How 
can you tell if a girl has a good heart 
for love-making? Well, you make love, 
but by that time it may be too late for 
comfort. How do you know in advance? 
Show her a menu, and if she does not. 
worry over it, but chooses decisively and 
then eats with good appetite, sweating 
slightly, she is OK. Note; Air condition- 
ing throws off the calculations. Note: 
Fat girls don't count. And in fact it 
after all, that a fellow only 
y discovers the truth about a par- 
ticular girl when he lives through those 
precarious getting-to-know-you moments, 
up the stairway and into the room and 
beyond. And perhaps there are differ- 
ences for her, too, depending on whether 
it is only Peter or the man she has been 
waiting for. 


After Elsie, you might have thought 
that the vision of Sarah — discreet, grate- 
ful and brooding, with her impulses to 
make him a home-cooked meal — would 
have tempted him. No. Or rather, not 
for long, not while fully awake. For 
despite his dissatisfactions with Elsie, 
she had given him something — freedom 
of action. He discovered an important 
underground doctrine about love: You 
don’t have to care. Raised іп a very 
moral American world, he had thought 
that strong desire was necessary to suc- 
cess; on the contrary, Elsie was easy on 
the heart and easy on the body. And 
why not? He did not need Sarah; he did 
not need love. He could settle for fun: 
boredom followed by release — fun. 

Still, those long afternoons with Sarah 
and her pears and Berlioz in his small 
apartment had unsettled him, unnerved 
him for other girls. Because of Sarah, 
he judged Elsie from the height and 
the depths of other possibilities. He had 
cared, or wanted to care, or imagined 
caring. The newspaper society pages 
were full of glossy Elsies getting brightly 
married to well-brushed men like him- 
self, but these were men who had had 
their college weekends, had passed re- 
lieved through a few paltry adventures, 
and had never known Sarah dreamily 
playing her fingers along the edges of 
the dimesized bald spot in his silky 
thatch of pale hair. Gingerly those шеп 
in the papers had tested their points; 
they would never discover that a man 
can be plunged up to the hilt in flesh. 
Poor Elsies. Poor lads. 

Following Elsie and a time of discreet. 
meditation, during which electronics 
stocks continued to do well as a group, 
there was an Austrian divorcee named 
Inga. Inga did marvelous imitations of 
the Gabor sisters, seven or eleven of 
whom were her best friends. It seems 
that one of them met a great movie pro- 
ducer and said, “I hear you are the most 
im-portant man in Hollywood.” But by 
accenting the first syllable and leaving 
out the “r” in “important,” the meny 
Gabor obtained the word “impotent.” 
Peter listened to Inga tell this charming 
anecdote seven or eleyen times, one for 
each sister, and after each time she al- 
ways made sure that attention continued 
to be focused on her with a change-of- 
pace remark like, "Dahling, please get 
me my wrap, I'm cold.” 

With Inga, Peter discovered that it 
was possible to think of a woman as a 
foam-rubber doll and to throw himself 
upon her with destructive fury and yet 
be unable to mark her at all. Afterward, 
restoring her face, she would comment, 
“You were especially good tonight, I 
thought, dahling. It’s those oysters, I'm 
sure. Whatever will we do when the 
months without ‘r’ come around?” 


“ТІ figure something out," he said, 
brooding malevolently on her preoccu- 
pation with “rs.” He did not wait until 
May to stop calling Inga. And the funny 
thing was that she never once asked him 
to explain; she seemed to understand 
without apologies, and that was more 
sensitivity than he expected in her. He 
did sce her once in a restaurant where 
he happened to be eating alone. She 
was in a crowd at a large table, and her 
voice rose above the clatter, in pseudo- 
Hungarian, "Oh dahling," she said, 
"you are in Hollywood the most impo- 


He sneaked out of the restaurant with- 
out finishing his meal. He thought that 
perhaps his shame came of being dis- 
covered at dinner by himself, but as he 
hit the street, cool air and damp, a 
tangle of taxis, he realized that he was 
ashamed for Inga —she was still telling 
that same old story. Her companion at 
dinner was a well-known minor actor 
with a sulky handsome face and no tal- 
ent. If he had been a few inches taller, 
he might have been a Hollywood star. 

Perhaps partly in order not to be 
caught eating dinner alone, Peter then 
took up in rapid succession with a secre- 
tary in a rival brokerage firm, a На- 
іп pottery-maker whom he met in 
a Greenwich Village Mexican restaurant 
(shyly they later confided that too much 
spice gave them both loose stomachs), 
and a graduate student in physical edu- 
cation at Columbia. Each of these affairs 
ended with, in order of appearance, a 
demand of marriage simultaneous with 
the onslaught of boredom, a rapid ас- 
cretion of fat at the hips and boredom, 
a slipped disc daring badminton and 
boredom. 

Look at me! thought Peter, again be- 
tween women, and decided that perhaps 
his disease of the lapse of love was 
deeply significant of our age. Personal 
failures cqual public failures — why not? 
But a man accustomed to hard-headed 
examination of anmual reports was not 
easily satisfied by such glossy justifica- 
tions. The bookkeeper's tables tell more 
of the story; mismanagement and di- 
version of effort and failure to use 
resources. Peter therefore gave up phi- 
losophy about love, and discovered that 
he could eat alone without much risk of 
being caught at it by going a little out 
of his way. He took to the movies again. 
He started with foreign art films, but 
gradually worked his way up to Alan 
Ladd Westerns. He visited museums, and 
noted that he was perhaps the only per- 
son in Manhattan who went to museums 
without looking to pick up somebody of 
the opposite (or same) sex. He also went 
to concerts. As his feelings atrophied, 
he developed a taste for the artistic ex- 
pression of feelings. But he was not dead 
yet. He had a thrilling itch in his ears 

(continued on page 97) 


article BY СЕМ PURDY 


PAINTINGS BY JEROME BIEDERMAN 


CLASSIC CARS 


ta bO 


OF MOTORINGS ELEGANT AGE 


IN 1991, THIRTY YEARS FROM NOW, will Cadillac El Doradoes and Pontiac Bonnevilles and 
Humber Super Snipes be sought after and restored and lovingly tucked up in museums? I am 
assaulted by doubt when I consider this proposition, But when we look in the other direction, 
and contemplate the scene thirty years behind us, we see the streets of the world’s great cities 
dotted with automobiles that were obviously destined for immortality, and deserving of it, too. 
Why is this? What differences have grown in these three decades? 

We are talking now about gentlemen's carriages built to serve two basic purposes: to 
transport four people, at most, in elegance over city streets and boulevards, and to carry them, 
in comfort and at high speed, over the roads from one city to another, or from the city to the 
seashore, the mountains or the lake country. These were not (text continued on page 48) 


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multipurpose cars in the modern manner. Emphatically, they were not designed to be easy for 
Мот to drive to the supermarket, with trunk space big enough to accommodate the deer Dad 
lays low on his annual hunting trip, and upholstered with plastic wonder-fabrics proof against 
upended chocolate ice-cream cones. The men who laid down these cars had in mind a clientele 
for whom a butler ordered the groceries, whose venison was slain by a gamekeeper, and whose 
squalling young were in the charge of a nanny who would expect to be drawn and quartered if 
one of them got anywhere near an ice-cream cone. Certainly persons less fortunately situated 
bought these cars now and again; but so did those who conformed to the designers’ specifications, 
and they were pleased with them. 

These were the cars that dominated the mad years between the end of the bull market in 
1929 and the beginning of World War II, when many who had kept their money saw the deluge 
ahead and were inclined to say, “I can't take it with me, and I'll be damned if 1711 leave it here.” 

Gaiety counted; gaiety and movement. Mayor Jimmy Walker of New York so accurately 
reflected the acceptable attitudes of his day that he became almost a cliché; his sins, which were 
notable, were forgiven, indeed were hardly termed sins at all, because the citizens of whom he 
was the nominal servant so ardently wished they could behave as he behaved. “Keep your hands 
to the plow, dear friends,” he would say as he terminated ten minutes of attendance at a City 
Hall meeting and skipped down the steps to the waiting Duesenberg town car and told the driver 
to which of the currently fashionable speakeasies he wished to be hurried. 

It was not a time for stay-at-homes. It was a time for travel and sensation-hunting and mov- 
ing as quickly as possible from place to place. There was plenty of room on the roads and some 
of the automobiles available were splendid. 

These were the motorcars the Americans call Classic, the British, Vintage and Post-Vintage 
Thoroughbred: cars of the breed of the SJ Duesenberg, the 8-liter Bentley, the Hispano-Suiza 
Boulogne, the Marmon 16, the P. II Continental Rolls-Royce, the Types 41, 46, 50 and 57SC 
Bugatti. Some were quicker than the others; some more comfortable, more reliable, more beau- 
tiful; but looking at them today, sitting in them, driving them, riding in (continued on page 58) 


article ву з. PAUL GETTY а well-aimed broadside at the yankee 
yahoo — а cultural clod with beer taste and a champagne pocketbook 


THE EDUCATED 
BARBARIANS 


SOME MONTHS AGO, a big-circulation European magazine published a cartoon which depicted a camera- 
draped American tourist and a tourist-guide standing in front of some Greek temple ruins. “First World 
War or Second?" the caption had the American asking. 

Although this may not sound very funny to you or me, the cartoon was widely reprinted all over 
the Continent. Countless Europeans laughed heartily at what they considered a telling lampoon of the 
typical American tourist. 

While foreigners have long acknowledged and acclaimed American leadership — and even supremacy — 
in science and technology, they have always been highly amused by the cultural illiteracy so often displayed 
by Americans and particularly by American men. 

"Тһе curator of a famous French art museum tells me that he can instantly single out most American 
men in even the largest and most heterogeneous crowds that come to his galleries. 

“It's all in their walk,” he claims. “The moment the average American male steps through the doors, 
he assumes a truculently self-conscious half-strut, half-shamble that tries to say: ‘I don’t really want to 
be here. I'd much rather be in a bar or watching a baseball рате,” 

Іп my own opinion, the average American's cultural shortcomings can be likened to those of the 
educated barbarians of ancient Rome. These were barbarians who learned to speak — and often to read 
and write — Latin. They acquired Roman habits of dress and deportment. Many of them handily 
mastcred Roman commercial, engineering and military techniques—but they remained barbarians 
nonetheless. They failed to develop any understanding, appreciation or love for the art and culture of 
the great civilization around them. 

‘The culture-shunning American male has been a caricaturists’ cliché for decades, at home as well 
as abroad — and with good reason. The traditional majority view in the United States has long seemed 
to be that culture is for women, longhairs and sissies — not for one-hundred-percent, red-blooded men. 
Thus, it is hardly surprising that American women are generally far more advanced culturally than 
American males. 

Because 1 spend much of my time abroad, I have many opportunities to observe my countrymen’s 
reactions to the highly refined cultural climates of foreign countries. Frankly, I'm frequently shocked 
and discomfited by their bland lack of interest in anything that is even remotely cultural in nature. 

A graphic — and, I fear, all too representative — example of what I mean can be found in the story 
of a meeting I had with an old friend in London last summer. My friend, a wealthy U.S. industrialist, 
stopped off in London en route to the Continent. He telephoned me from his hotel, and we arranged 
to have lunch together. After we'd eaten, I proposed that we spend a few hours visiting the Wallace 
Collection, I knew my companion had never seen this fabulous trove of antique furniture and art. As 
for myself, I was eager to revisit it and once again enjoy seeing the priceless treasures exhibited there. 
My friend, however, practically choked on the suggestion. 

"Good Lord, Paul!" he spluttered indignantly. "I've only two days to spend in London — and I'm 
not going to waste an entire afternoon wandering around a musty art gallery. You can go look at antiques 
and oil paintings. Гт going to look at the girls at the Windmill!” 

"Then, І recall the dismal tableau cnacted in my Paris hotel lobby not long ago when I played host 
to two American couples visiting Paris for the first time. I stood silently to one side while the husbands 
and wives argued about what they wanted to do that evening. 

The ladies wanted to attend a special nighttime showing of a contemporary sculpture collection 


49 


PLAYBOY 


that had received high praise from all 
art critics. The husbands objected vehe- 
mently. 

“Hell, I've already seen a statue!” one 
of the men snorted. “Let’s go to a night- 
club instead!” 

‘The other man agreed enthusiasti- 
cally. The wives capitulated, and I, be- 
ing the host, submitted to the inevitable 
with as much grace as possible under 
the circumstances. 

As a consequence, we all spent the 
evening іп an airless, smoke-filled cab- 
aret exactly like every other airless, 
smoke-filled cabaret anywhere in the 
world, listening to a fourth-rate jazz 
band blare out background noise for a 
fifth-rate floorshow. 

Now, I have nothing against cabarets, 
jazz bands or floorshows. I enjoy all 
three — provided they're good and pro- 
vided I don't have to live on a steady 
diet of them. But I certainly can't un- 
derstand why so many Americans will 
travel thousands of miles to a world 
cultural center such as Paris and then 
spend their time nightclubbing. 

Countless experiences similar to these 
I've related have led me to believe that 
а comparison between modern Amer- 
ican men and the educated barbarians 
of ancient Rome is not so terribly far- 
fetched after all. 

I've found that the majority of Amer- 
ican men really believe there is some- 
thing effeminate — if not downright sub- 
versively un-American — about showing 
any interest in literature, drama, art, 
classical music, opera, ballet or any 
other type of cultural endeavor. It is 
virtually their hubris that they are too 
“manly” and "virile" for such effete 
things, that they prefer basketball to 
Bach or Brueghel and poker to Plato or 
Pirandello. 

Unfortunately, this culture-phobia is 
not an aberration peculiar to the unedu- 
cated clods in our society. It is to be 
found in virulent forms even among 
highly successful and otherwise intelli- 
gent and well-educated individuals. I've 
heard more than one man with a Phi 
Beta Kappa key glittering on his watch- 
chain proclaim loudly that he "wouldn't 
be caught dead” inside an opera house, 
concert hall or art gallery. I'm ac- 
quainted with many top-level business- 
men and executives with Ivy League 
backgrounds who don’t know the differ- 
ence between a Corot and a chromo — 
and couldn't care less. 

The "anticulture" bias appears to 
thrive at most levels of American so- 
ciety. It is reflected іп a thousand and 
one facets of American life. The nau- 
seating, moronic fare dished out to та- 
dio, television and motion picture audi- 
ences—and presumably relished by 
them—is one random example. The 
comparatively sparse attendance at mu- 


seums and permanent art exhibitions is 
another. Only a tiny percentage of the 
population reads great books or listens 
to great music. It's doubtful if one in 
ten Americans is able to differentiate be- 
tween a Doric and an Ionic column. 
Save for amateur theatrical groups or 
touring road companies, the legitimate 
theater is practically nonexistent out- 
side New York City. 

Americans like to boast that the 
United States is the richest nation on 
carth. They hardly seem to notice that 
in proportion to its material wealth and 
prosperity, the American people them- 
selves are culturally poor, if not poverty- 
stricken. 

The far-reaching and powerful in- 
fluence of traditional American culture- 
shunning was, I think, illustrated quite 
clearly during the recent Presidential 
campaign. The music editor of the US. 
magazine Saturday Review queried both 
Presidential candidates for their answers 
to two questioi 

1. Are you in favor of establishing 
a post of Secretary of Culture with. 
Cabinet rank? 

2. То what extent do you believe the 
Federal Government should assist in the 
support of museums, symphony orches- 
tras, opera companies and so on? 

According to published reports, both 
candidates rejected the idea of creating 
a Cabinet post for a Secretary of Cul- 
ture. Neither seemed to think that Fed- 
eral aid to domestic cultural activities, 
institutions and projects should be ex- 
tended much beyond that which is al- 
ready being given to the Library of Con- 
gress and the National Gallery. 

Now, by no means do I intend this as 
a criticism of either President John F. 
Kennedy or of Mr. Richard M. Nixon, 
nor do I in any way wish to imply that. 
they are not both highly cultured gen- 
tlemen. I rather imagine that their re- 
plies were made on the advice of 
their political counselors who doubtless 
warned them to tread carefully and 
avoid having any fatal "longhair" labels 
attached to their names. 

As far as the first question is con- 
cerned, I hardly feel myself qualified to 
argue its pros and cons. It is not for 
me to judge whether a Secretary of Cul- 
ture would be good or bad for the 
nation. 

lam, however, a taxpayer. As such, 
I cannot help but feel that a few Fed- 
eral millions spent on cultural activities 
would be at least as well spent as the 
countless tens of millions lavished each 
year on bureaucratic paper-shuffling 
operations. Certainly all of our citizens 
would derive much greater benefits from 
such expenditures than they do from the 
costly pork-barrel projects to be found 
in almost every Federal budget. 

The United States is the only major 
nation on earth that does not support 


its cultural institutions to some degree 
with public funds. True, the Federal 
Government has, in recent years, spent 
large sums to send artists, musicians, 
entire art exhibits, symphony orchestras 
and theatrical and dance troupes on 
globegirdling junkets to spread Amer- 
ican culture abroad for propaganda pur- 
poses. These are, of course, valuable 
projects which do much to raise Amer. 
ican prestige in foreign lands. 

It is a grotesque paradox that the 
same Federal Government will noi 
spend a penny to spread culture in 
America and thus raise the cultural level 
of our own peoplel 

Tt strikes me that there is an Alice in 
Wonderland quality to whatever reason. 
ing may lie behind all this. I am neither 
a politician nor a government есоп- 
omist. But it seems to me that if the 
Federal Government is legally obligated 
to sce that the nation's citizens have 
pure foods, transcontincntal highways 
and daily mail deliveries, then i 
at least a moral obligation to see 
they have the opportunities and facil 
ities for cultural betterment. 

Only one-tenth of one percent—a one- 
thousandth fraction — of the annual Fed. 
eral budget would be sufficient to finance 
a vast program of support for cultural 
institutions and activities throughout 
the country. It is hardly overpricing the 
value of our cultural present and future 
to say that they are well worth at least 
one-thousandth of опт Federal tax 
dollars! 

History shows that civilizations live 
longest through their artistic and cul 
tural achievements. We have forgotten 
the battles fought and the wars won by 
ancient civilizations, but we maryel at 
their architecture, art, painting, poetry 
and music. The greatness of nations and 
peoples is in their culture, not in their 
conquests. 

"Themistocles is given only a line or 
two in most history books. Aristophanes, 
Aeschylus, Phidias, Socrates—all of whom 
lived in the same Century as Themis 
tocles— ате immortals. The edicts and 
decrees of the Caesars are largely for 
gotten. The poetry of Horace and Virgil 
lives on forever. The names of the 
M is, Sforzas and Viscontis gain their 
greatest luster from the patronage the 
noble families gave to da Vinci, Michel. 
angelo, Raphael and other unforgettable 
artists. What are Gneisenau and Scharn 
horst in comparison to their country 
men and contemporaries: Beethoven, 
Schubert, Goethe and Heine? Surely, the 
moral should be obvious even to the 
most stubborn of culture-shunners among 
today's Educated Barbarians. 

Nonetheless, entirely too many Amer 
ican men insist that they can see no 
reason for developing any cultural in 
terests or appreciation of the arts. Some 

(continued on page 115) 


has 


TONY CURTIS: 


\ 


2 ЧУ сы ЫТ ЗА 
HION PROFILE 
the sartorial slant on hollywood’s swingingest 
conservative — inaugurating a special series on 


personalities with a personal point of view 
K 


Definitely not diffident about owning a Rolls, Tony stands beside his ice-blue 
prize in breezy gray-and-white-checked poplin jacket, spotless white flannel 
Bermudas, yellow sport shirt, forest-green knee socks, olive suede shoes. 


51 


52 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY DON ORNITZ 


| Мав 


Confabbing with producer Sy Bortlett, Tony's ће image of understated individuality in blue-groy tropicol, quiet rep, two-inch 
"Curtis" collar, high-tongued slip-ons, At eose with easel, the inner man emerges in a so-for-out-it's-in pink pima cotton jumpsuit. 
Abetied by golf-buddy Bab Wagner, the multihabbied star lines up a crucial putt in five-button knit pullaver, fitted Jamoicons. 


CAN BEST DESCRIBE MYSELF as a swinging conservative — a guy who won't go down the line with any 
I single style or fashion,” Tony Curtis told us recently in an exclusive sartorial self-portrait. Freely 
translated, he meant he’s the sort who believes in being suitably dressed for every occasion, but who isn't. 
averse to introducing a bold note of color or design. This single declaration correctly keys his entire 
fashion personality; however "in" a color, fabric or silhouette, it never reposes in his wardrobe if he feels 
it does nothing for him. 

“My clothing tastes are strictly personal,” he confided. “Black is indisputably ‘in,’ and I agree that 
it has a place іп a man's wardrobe, particularly in evening wear; but I think the whole black gambit has 
lapsed into faddism. I'm against the carbon-copy notion of people's wearing the same outfits simply 


Smortly silk-trousered ond happi-coated in the den af his comfortably contemporary domicile in Beverly Hills, Tony watches a lote- 
night TV-reploy of an early Curtis effart. Handsomely bedecked alfresco in V-necked Itolion mohair sweater and chalk-white cotton- 
mesh tennis shorts, he drains a foaming gloss after а vigorous set on the private court of neighborly neighbor Deon Moi 


Breaking bread with Kirk Douglas and spouse ot the Curtises’ plush Palm Springs retreat, Tony inventively coordinates the paplin 
jacket from page 51 with shirt, tie and slacks for a fresh feeling of blue-black boldness. Rolls-side at the studio gote in on 
immaculate ensemble of large-patterned glen plaid and imported black mohair, the busy businessman-stor pauses to take с call. 


because they're stylish and current. I don't adhere to the strictures of the Italian Look, the British Look, 
the Armenian Look, or you name it. If you follow any ‘look’ down to the last buttonhole, you end up 
with nothing but a uniform; the last uniform J wore was in the Navy. This sort of conformity is a dan- 
gerous threat to a true fashion sense. Take the Ivy Look; though it originated many years ago at the 
Ivy schools, it came into its own as a new clothing direction for the general public only about eight 
years ago, liberating the American male at last from the deformities of excessive suit padding and pleating. 
Now, it's certainly a good thing to initially encourage people to dress with the security of an approved 
conservative look. But Ivy should be used as a stepping stone to greater freedom in style and silhouette 
for the young man just finding his place socially and economically. There is a more contemporary fashion 


Choise-lounging with Janet ot their Palm Springs paolside, Tony seeks sunny solace from the Hollywood social swim in burgundy 
Italian top and orange mid-thigh trunks. Back on his balcony in Beverly Hills, he takes the evening cir—ond a pre-prondial coaler— 
іп а custom-tailored mohair dinner jacket with semishawl collar, peaked lopels, deep side vents, cutaway front and slanted pockets. 


PLAYBOY 


54 


— call it Continental, American Conti- 
mental, or just the Hip Look— which 
originated in the 1920s with such styles 
as the tighter coat, the cutaway front, 
the vested suit; and it gives you elbow- 
room for far morc individual expres- 
sion than all the regimental vogues.” 

It seemed natural, if not unavoidable, 
for us to invoke the hallowed name 
of Brooks Brothers — one of the few 
stores in the world whose very mention 
conjures up venerable visions of um- 
shakable, unimpeachable conservatism. 
We therefore did so. “Brooks,” Tony 
acknowledged, “has made some great 
contributions to fashion: the button- 
down collar, the polo coat, the pink 
shirt arc just a few. The extent and 
entrenchment of their conservatism, 
however, may succeed only in frustrat- 
ing any genuine expression of the per- 
sonality of the man who doesn’t really 
dig the ‘agency’ look. After all, it isn’t 
everyone who works on Madison — and 
it isn't everyone's desire to look as if 
he did. Impeccable taste is the only real 
criterion, no matter how you dress. With 
magazines like рїлүвоү, Esquire and 
Gentlemen's Quarterly, there are plenty 
of guides around to help, without hin- 
dering, your self-expression. Each guy 
may have to feel his own way, but the 
great things he can find in small shops 
will give him a chance to express an 
individual fashion point of view, rather 
than transform him into one of a trudg- 
ing herd." 

A stanch advocate of the honesty of 
a three-way mirror. Tony espouses the 
“know-thyself” theory of dressing. “A 
man with a large can shouldn't wear 
tight trousers,” he counseled, regarding 
us a shade too appraisingly, we thought. 
“And a man with a small chest or 
upper torso shouldn't wear loose jackets. 
Thin, short men and stout, tall men 
shouldn't wear anything too flashy; it 
will only focus attention on their de- 
ficiencies. They should be particularly 
careful to select styles and tones which 
make the most of their assets.” Entreated 
to impart a few of his own color pref- 
erences, Tony complied with the kind 
of self-confidence that comes only with 
long experience. “My wardrobe is pre- 
dominantly gray, blue and black with a 
few beiges and browns — although I do 
avoid certain shades of brown and most 
greens except olive. Tints like red and 
yellow should be confined primarily to 
sweaters, swimwear and paisley-printed 
handkerchiefs. Off-colors like lavender 
and pink should be used very sparingly 
—at least in my group.” 

Well acquainted with the West Coast 
penchant for the barcheaded look, we 
broached the subject of hats, resigned 
to the probability of a giant cipher in 
the headgear department. “I own eleven 


hats" he began offhandedly, “ranging 
from a Homburg to a yachting cap. I've 
had them for about five years.” Openly 
impressed with this sizable wardrobe, 
we leaned forward for further details. 
“With the exception of a beanie, which 
I wear when I'm driving,” he continued, 
"I've never worn any of them." 

“I don't dig jewelry of any kind, 
either,” he resumed, warming to the 
theme of sartorial dos and don'ts, “ех- 
cept for cuff links and studs with formal 
wear. From time to time, I may wear 
an oversize silk paisley handkerchief, 
folded around the песк of an open- 
collared shirt; but I just don't go for 
ascots. There's a fine line between the 
guy who can wear them with a real 
flair and get away with it, and the guy 
who comes off a phony. They're great 
for the group that can really wear them, 
but too often the ones who shouldn’t 
are the ones who try.” As for the bow 
tie — another accessory for the rare man 
who can carry it off — Tony simply dis- 
missed it with a shrug. "I never wear 
one — except with evening wear, where 
they seem to work for everybody. There's 
nothing wrong with them, they're just 
not for me." 

If any "look" is associated with Tony, 
it is the high shirt collar; persuaded 
that most people wear their collars too 
low, he has his made with a two-inch 
height. "Just as you show linen at the 
jacket cuffs, I think linen should show 
at the neckline above the suit.” His 
choice in collar style inclines to the pin- 
type and medium spread. He is not a 
user of either garters or galluses. 

“California,” he went on, after a few 
minutes of sun-baked silence, “is no 
New York. You can get sunburned here 
in the dead of December.” He gestured 
expansively to the smoggy heavens. 
“Such truck as overcoats, scarves, woolen 
gloves, galoshes and whatnot are about 
as useful here as a suit of armor. The 
climate demands a completely different 
attitude toward wardrobes — and so does 
the informality of the entertainment 
business. In New York or Chicago, very 
few men go to the office in sport shirts 
and slacks, or wear a sweater instead of 
а jacket. If 1 moved back East, I'm sure 
Id have to replace most of my ward- 
robe.” In the benign clime of southern 
Californiz, however, he can do nought 
but go native, and play it cool. “On 
the fabric front, my favorites here are 
lightweights and summer tropicals. 1 
especially dig Dacron and nylon in my 
shirts and underwear; their lightness 
makes outer garments fit better. I don’t 
want to knock heavyweight wool, but 
I'm willing to let the sheep keep it— 
at least as long as I stick around Gali- 
fornia.” 

Unlike many luminaries who place 


themselves in the hands of a reputable 
custom tailor and bow meekly to his 
dictates, Tony shops around. He feels, 
as do we, that the sweater, the pair 
of gloves, the shocs, the necktie, the 
improbable cuff links bought on thc 
strength of nothing more logical or 
practical than a spontaneous impulse, 
can be among the most satisfying in- 
vestments in vestment. He avers that 
the unswerving eye, the inflexible will, 
the unseducible wallet are a sure mark 
of the "loser" in mercantile, and prob- 
ably other, matters. "I have a special 
weakness for reacting quickly to sweat- 
ers and shoes" he confessed, "and I 
can be relied upon to buy either of 
them, regardless of how many I already 
own." The hippest—or at least the 
happiest — shoppers, we've found, are 
those who thus obey their impulses 
before their sense cf logic. 

The subject of togshopping brought 
to mind the grim vision of the over- 
bearing Frau who garbles her guy's garb 
by shadowing his every sartorial move. 
We found ourself wondering aloud 
whether helpmeet Janet Leigh's obvi- 
ously astute fashion judgment could be 
said to sway Tony’s choice of duds. 
"Janers influence doesn't affect me at 
all" he replied candidly. "I think most 
men know more about women's fash 
ions than vice versa, anyway. A man 
should choose his own clothes for his 
own meeds and enjoyment. Women 
have managed to invade practically 
every area of our lives; 1 think we 
should all get together and keep dothes- 
buying one of those rare moments when 
a man can relax in a man’s world.” 
Waxing passionate on this point, he 
went on: "Clothes should reflect the 
personality of the man who wears them 
-а distinction he’s bound to lose if he 
relies on his wife's, or his girlfriend's, 
choice. If a butcher wants to express 
himself by buying an ascot, or an ac 
countant finds an outlet in sporting an 
evening shirt with ruffles, I think he 
ought to be allowed that pleasure with- 
out any 'rsk-tsks' from the sidelines.” 
Clinging tenaciously to the topic, we 
hauled out that hoary adage about a 
woman's most important possession be- 
ing a well-dressed man, and tossed it 
up for grabs. Ever the realist, Tony 
smiled wisely and conceded, “Let's face 
it— when a couple goes out for the 
evening, the woman is the star. There- 
fore, she decides what she wants to wear, 
and the guy should harmonize as best 
he can. As with a good jazz combo, let 
her carry the melody, and you fill in 
the beat.” 

We learned that Tony buys about 
two thirds of his wardrobe off the rack 

he’s no fashion snob; the rest is cus- 

(concluded on page 92) 


55 


56 


— 


cool 
m c 


with a 


| frosty 


Дай 


food By THOMAS MARIO 


FOR FEVERED BROW, PARCHED THROAT AND JADED PALATE, the refrigerator can be a veritable ice palace of culinary 
cold comestibles during the hot months. In this labor-saving age, the preparation of many cool collations — from 
cooked crab and corned tongue to liver paté and pickled herring — involves a ritual no more complex than the 
upending of cardboard cartons from the corner caterer. But such immemorial stand-bys as ham and potato salad 
all too often make their appearance at the summer dinner table as bungling stand-ins for the genuine article. 
For those who dig delicatessen, the best way to avoid wretched repasts is extensive trial-and-error research in the 
better gourmet shops. The resolute hamologist won't rest until he finds ham that's sweet but smoky, chewy but 
tender, lightly salted but not acrid; a description which includes such princely provisions as pungent Italian 
prosciutto, delicate Danish ham, hearty domestic Smithfield, and the ineffably savory, virtually transparent West- 
phalian ham from Germany. The dedicated potato saladier will search until he finds a variety that is absolutely 
fresh (made within three or four hours before display, or at least the same day) and seasoned with fresh chives 
rather than the traditional onion filler. 

But the road to calm, cool and convenient warm-weather dining need not be littered entirely with delicatessen 
cartons, however commendable their contents. For most of us, the appetite for truly epicurean nourishment 
doesn't taper off by a taste bud during the hot months. Understandably salad-sated, páté-pooped and pickle- 
weary, ме crave such summertime specialties as fresh Gaspé salmon, slowly poached in its skin, then chilled 
within a few degrees of freezing, and coated with mayonnaise tinged with mustard — among the kingly edibaubles 
from a vast province of provender cultivated expressly for frigid feasting. You won't find them canned, bottled. 
boxed, deep-frozen, dehydrated or reconstituted in any long-greengrocery of our acquaintance; but they can be 
concocted at home оп the range with far more gustatory gratification, if somewhat less childish ease, than any 
known prefab fare, hot or cold, plain or fancy. At the end of a lazy day's bake at the beach, or an afternoon's 


3 
i 
M 


jog on the commercial treadmill, few prospects аге more appetizing than a choice fish, fowl or roast, plucked 
frosty-fresh from the victual vault. Cooked in advance, relegated to refrigerator, and brought forth shortly after 
the martini hour, such regal repasts can liberate the host from a summer-evening ritual which saps even the 
hardiest appetites: the hot-stove gambit. 

A few canons of culinary cold storage should safely insulate him from possible frostbite as well. Apart from 
unswerving insistence on the best goods ayailable, as in all mercantile matters, the primary precept is to use 
discretion rather than valor in the selection of birds and beasts for the buffet table. Unless a ravenous regiment 
is expected, the wise way is to procure joints and cuts of fairly modest proportions — large enough to satisfy, but 
small enough to roast and chill without unconscionable delay. If a tempting roast beef is among the iced delights 
in store, the sharp chef will take care to cook it especially rare, in order to conserve the precious pink juices so 
often lost not only іп the oven but in the refrigerator. As with any roast meat, he will always take the further 
precaution of swathing his prize in one of the wansparent plastics that scal rather than conceal their contents. 
Such delicacies as cold shrimp and whole cooked corned beef, of course, should be preserved in containers which 
permit them to steep luxuriously in their own rich liquids. 

Whatever dish is docketed, hasty tabling is the principal prerequisite for frosty foods. Meat, fish and fowl 
will survive refrigeration for varying periods — smoked meats up to three days — before lapsing into rank senility. 
But all of them will have lost their youthful bloom after a scant twenty-four hours of wintry imprisonment. The 
best plan, therefore, especially with delicate seafood and tender roast duckling, is to seize and savor your chilled 
prey at the piquant peak of redolence — between five and eight hours after cooking. 

For somewhat airier, if no less perishable midsummer meals, there is still another realm of cold cookery for 
particular palates: gelatin dishes. Among the most versatile of viands, these shimmering (continued on page 110) 


PLAYBOY 


CLASSIC CARS) аттата) 


them, one is struck by one universal 
characteristic: privacy. Nearly always, 
the coachbuilders placed upon these 
great chassis bodies that offered privacy 
of a kind todays motorists, sitting in 
mobile greenhouses of tinted glass, know 
nothing about. Sedans, limousines, four- 
passenger coupes, berlines de voyage, 
coupes de ville, sometimes even open 
double-cowl phaetons offered rear-seat 
passengers shielding from public curi- 
osity that ranged from a discreet shadow- 
ing to total privacy behind heavy silk 
curtains. Modern attempts on this con- 
cept have nearly always failed in ele- 
gance and taste because they were 
makeshift and they required arbitrary 
blanking off of large areas of glass, as 
when the late King Ibn Saud ordered 
twenty Cadillac limousines at $12,500 
each, all five windows and the chauf- 
(еше divisions made of Argus glass, 
mirrorside out. The women of his 
harem could thus see and not be seen, 
but the automobiles must have glittered 
like circus wagons under the bright 
Arabian sun. The coachmakers of the 
Thirties did it better: 1 know a coupe 8- 
liter Bentley built with a rear quarter 
all blind except for a six-inch oval rear 
window of beveled plate. The saddle- 
brown leather of the seat is soft and 
smooth as only well-worn and cared-for 
leather can be, and there is room on it, 
and to spare, for two people, but not for 
three. That wasn’t the idea. There are 
ashtrays and lighters and 2 mirrored van- 
ity case holding perfume atomizers and 
the like; a small walnut cabinet on one 
side of the front-seat back holds a picnic 
set, a matching cache carries three cut- 
glass carafes for spirits. A foot-square 
table unfolds over each cabinet. A long 
way ahead, past the fellow driving, and 
his petite amie, is the short straight 
windshield, and one can look a little to 
one side and see out the front windows, 
but why bother? 

This 8liter Bentley was the last gasp 
of the original Bentley company of 
Great Britain, a gauntlet thrown in 1080 
into the face of the approaching finan- 
cial hurricane. W. O. Bentley, one of 
the giants of automobile design, had 
produced the heavy, immensely strong 
and quite fast 3- and 4/,-liter Bentleys 
that dominated sportscar racing in the 
late 1920s. Bentleys won the 24-Hour 
race at Le Mans in 1924, 1927, 1928, 
1929 and 1930. In 1929 they did it in a 
style that has not been seen since: Four 
Bentley cars were entered, and twenty- 
four hours later four finished: first, 
second, third and fourth! Bentleys were 
sought after in those days, but they 
were expensive to buy—and to make. 
The company never really rolled in 
money, and the 8-liter. its twice- 
normal-size engine, was designed to in- 
trude into the profitable luxury-carriage 


trade. The 220-horsepower engine was 
available in one of two wheelbases: 12 
or 13 feet; the lightest model weighed 
three tons, and the chassis cost was just 
under $10,000. Mr. Bendey’s purpose in 
design was to create a car that would 
carry luxury coachwork at 100-plus mph 
in silence. By the standards of the day 
he succeeded admirably. One hundred 
B-liter chassis were produced and vari- 
ously clothed by the many custom coach- 
builders of the time. The &liter was а 
formidable automobile. As late as 1959 
an &liter Bentley was breaking records 
with speeds in excess of 141 mph. 

Eight liters of engine тап another 
voiture de grand luxe of the period, the 
Hispano-Suiza Boulogne. The Hispano- 
Suiza company was made up of Spanish 
capital in the person of St. Damien 
Mateu and Swiss talent in the person 
of M. Marc Birkigt. Birkigt was gifted 
in the extreme, and had he had the 
fiamboyance of Ettore Bugatti or Ga- 
briel Voisin, he would have been as 
widely known as either of them. He 
was respected, indeed, among profes- 
sionals. The firm began in 1904, and 
"Hisso" aircraft engines were much 
used by the Allies in the war of 1914- 
1918. Birkigt’s concepts of luxury motor- 
cars came to full fruition in the 1920s, 
when he designed the big Boulogne. The 
model was named after a race won by 
one of the prototypes, but nearly all the 
fifteen chassis produced were bodied as 
gentlemen's carriages. André Dubonnet 
ОҒ Paris, sometimes irreverently called 
the Apériuf King, commissioned a 
Boulogne that is still in existence and is 
still among the world’s half-dozen most 
spectacular automobiles. 

Dubonnet believed that a Boulogne 
would make an ideal mount for an carly 
Targa Florio race. No one else thought 
so. The Targa was a long and brntzl 
race on rock-studded roads through the 
Sicilian hills in which small, tough, 
hardsprung sports and racing cars 
usually did well. But Dubonnet had the 
weight of gold on his side, and he or- 
dered an alloy-and-tulipwood body from 
the aircraft company that built the 
famous Nieuport fighters. The alloy 
frame was handmade, and two-inch 
strips of tulipwood were riveted to it. 
Wood and rivets were then sanded and 
polished. The body was beautiful, and 
suitably light, but M. Dubonnet did not 
win the Targa Florio. He finished sixth, 
though, and the tulipwood car is now 
in England. The original mudguards 
were metal, but the car’s present owner, 
a Mr. L. G. Albertini, found a Thames 
boatbuilder who knew about tulipwood 
and ran him up a set in exactly the 
style of the body. 

The Model 37.2 Hispano-Suiza was 
at one time the most expensive automo- 


bile in the world, at $11,000 for the 
bare chassis, but the V-12 of 1931, which 
cost less, was a better automobile, in- 
deed it must be included in any list of 
the best automobiles of all time. It was 
quite stable on the road, would move 
from 0 to 60 mph in twelve seconds— 
still, thirty years later, am entirely re- 
spectable figure —and would exceed 
100 carrying almost any kind of coach- 
work. Further, it handled much like а 
modern automatic-transmission automo- 
bile: the engine had so much torque 
that top gear could be used from 4 miles 
an hour up! 

Pride of place among American-built 
automobiles of this genre goes to the 
Duesenberg, and, among Duesenbergs, 
to the model SJ; and among SJs, to the 
double-cowl phaetons, in popular opin- 
ion but not in mine: I incline to Mur- 
phy Beverlys, Rollston convertible Tor- 
pedo Victorias or Opera Broughams, or 
Hibbard & Darrin convertible town 
cars, automobiles fit for fast passage 
over rain-swept autumn roads, with the 
dusk coming down like violet smoke, 
and a long way to go before midnight, 
and what of ite 

Fred and August Duesenberg made 
Duesenbergs in a determined effort to 
produce the most luxurious fast car, or 
the fastest luxury car, in the world. 
They were successful in this aim: ап 
SJ Duesenberg would do 104 miles ап 
hour in second gear and 130 in top. 
After all, the car should have been fast: 
its first fame came as a race car. For 
years Duesenbergs were a fixed part of 
the scene at Indianapolis, and Jimmy 
Murphy, winning the French Grand 
Prix іп a Duesenberg in 1921, set a 
record that still stands: No other Amer- 
ican driving an American car has ever 
won a European grande épreuve. 

Only about 470 J and SJ Duesenbergs 
were built. Their basic price range was 
$14,750 to $17,750. A very few ran up 
to $20,000 and perhaps half a dozen 
cost $25,000. (Only two were sold to 
American customers at that figure) 
However, some owners gilt the lily. For 
cxample, a maharaja carpeted the rear 
of bis Duesenberg with a Persian rug 
which had, he said, cost him "several 
times” the price of the car. 

There was something about the 
Duesenberg, long, lean, narrow, wholly 
elegant, that brought out the sybarite 
in most people. Nothing could be added 
to the car mechanically with profit; even 
the dashboard was so completely fitted 
out that nothing like іг exists today: 
a stop-clock was standard, so was a brake- 
pressure indicator; colored lights winked 
on automatically to remind the driver 
to add water to the battery or push the 
pedal that greased the car while it was 
in motion. А second, simplified instru- 
ment panel in the rear was not uncom 
mon. Inhibited in that area, a man of 

(continued on page 108) 


DAVIS 


THE some will do anything to get a sponsor 


KILLER fiction By BRUCE JAY FRIEDMAN 
IN AT FIRST, MR. ORDZ noticed only that the master of cere- 
THE monies or star of the television show wore a bad 
TV toupee, one that swept up suddenly and pointily like 
SET ап Elks’ convention cap. It seemed to be a late-hour 
“talk” arrangement, leading off with a singer named Connie 
who did carefully-ticked-off rhythm gestures; one to connote 
passion, another, unabashed frivolity, and a third naiveté and 
first love. The show was one Mr. Ordz did not recognize, 
although this was beside the point since his main concern 
was to avoid going upstairs to Mrs. Ordz, a plump woman 
who had discovered sex in her early forties. In curlers, she 
waited each night for Mr. Ordz to come unravel her mysteries 
so that she might, in her own words, “Ну out of control and 


yield forth the real me.” Mr. Ordz (continued on page 68) 


ADVERTISEMENTS 
FO R H ERSELF. frequent 


playboy fashion plate is editorially paged 


for august PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO CASILLI 
za қ 


T 


ОВ SOME MONTHS NOW, both readers and PLAYBOY staffers 
Fame have had their interest piqued and their eyesight 
pleasured by a handsomely-fashioned but lamentably 
unidentified mannequin modeling a round-the-calendar 
wardrobe of décolleté feminine modes for PLAYBOY advertiser 
Margie Douglas. When reader acclaim and editorial curiosity 
demanded an end to the lovely lady's anonymity, PLAYBOY 
acted, ferreted out the female in question, discovered she was 
Karen Thompson, a Los Angeles miss who divides her time 
between being a tele-vision on such shows as The Aquanauts 
and Hawaiian Eye and accenting our advertising columns. 
When we suggested that Karen come into the editorial fold, 
she was delighted, we were delighted, and the results here- 
with should prove equally delightful to our readers, who can 
now make a wide-screen appraisal of Karen’s singular charms. 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES 


We've heard of a new low in community 
stan a man whose credit rating is 
so bad his money isn't accepted. 


S ome girls are music lovers. Others сап 
love without it. 


li Е 
Ош Unabashed Dictionary defines 
drive-in movie as wall-to-wall car-petting. 


As they ran for their respective trains, 
Ralph called to his fellow-commuter, 
Paul: 

"How about a game of golf tomor- 
row?" 

“Sorry,” Paul called back, "but it's the 
kids day off, and I've got to take care 
of the maid." 


If exercise eliminates fat, how come 
women get double chins? 


A man will often take a girl to some 
retreat in order to make advances. 


With deep concern, if not alarm, Dick 
noted that his friend Conrad was drunker 
than he'd ever scen him before. 
"What's the trouble, buddy?" he asked. 
sliding onto the stool next to his friend. 
It’s a woman, Dick," Conrad replied. 
“I guessed that much. Tell me about 


I сап! 


Conrad said. But after a few 


more drinks his tongue and resolution 
both seemed to weaken and, turning to 
t's your wife." 


“What about her?" 

Conrad pondered the question heav- 
ily, and draped his arm around his pal. 
‘Well, buddy-boy,” he said. "I'm afraid 
she's cheating on us.” 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines le- 
gal secretary as any girl over eighteen. 


Sue lay sprawled in sweet exhaustion on 
the bed, wearing a red ribbon in her 
bright blonde hair. Beside her, wearing 
not even a ribbon, Mark slowly lit two 
cigarettes and passed one to her. For a 
long moment, smoke and silence hung in 
the air. Then: 

“My mother always told me to be 
good,” Sue said with a little smile. 


Many a girl owes the fact that she’s a 
IB 
prominent figure to a prominent figure. 


Roger, ihe handsome real estate agent, 
couldn't remember when he'd rented an 
apartment to a more desirable tenant. 
As she bent over his desk to sign the 
lease, he became aware that his pulse 
was beating in his ears with the sound 
of bongo drum: 

"Well," he said, “that’s that. I wish 
you much happiness in your new apart- 
ment, and here are the two keys that 
come with it. 

She straightened up, accepted the keys, 
and favored him with a dazzling smile. 

"And here is a month's rent in ad- 
vance, honey," she replied. And she 
handed him back onc of thc keys. 


Heard any good ones laiely? Send your 
favorites to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 
232 E. Ohio St., Chicago 11, Ill, and 
earn an easy $25.00 for each joke used. 
In case of duplicates, payment goes to 
first received. Jokes cannot be returned. 


“For posing, І рау а dollar an hour, room and board." 


67 


PLAYBOY 


KILLER IN THE TV SET 


had had several exposures to the real her 
and now scrupulously ducked opportuni- 
ties for others. 

Four male dancers came out now and 
surrounded the singer, flicking their fin- 
gers out toward her, and keeping up a 
chant that went “Isn't she a doll?" then 
hoisting her up on their shoulders for 
the finale. 

"Doesn't she just bash you over the 
head?" asked the m.c., pulling up a chair. 
"The setting was spare, a simple wall with 
a chair or two lined up against it, much 
in the style of the "intellectual" con- 
versation show. “I'd like to bash you 
over the head, too,” said the m.c., "but. 
I can't and Гуе got to get you some other 
way." Mr. Ordz snickered, sending thc 
snicker out through his nose. It was а 
laugh he used both for registering amuse- 
ment and also slight shock, and it served. 
the side function of clearing his nasal 
passages. “АШ right, now," the nic. said, 
“I used Connie to hook you, although 
I've no doubt I can keep you once you're 
watching awhile. Hear me now and hear 
me good. Гуе got exactly one week to 
Kill you or I don't get my sponsor. Funny 
how you fall into these master-of-cere- 
mony jokes just being up here in front 
of a camera and with all this television 
paraphernalia. Let me nail down that 
last remark a little better. I don't mean 
kill you with laughter or entertainment. 
I mean really stop your heart, Ordz, for 
Chris's sake, make you die. Гуе done 
work on you and 1 know I can do it.” 

Mr. Ordz thought the man had said 
“hard orbs" but then the тус. said, 
"Heart, Ordz, stop your heart, Ordz. All 
right, then, Mr. Ordz. For Christ's sake 
listen because I just told you I've only 
got a week." 

Mr. Ordz turned the dial and watched. 
test patterns which is all he could get ас 
two in the morning. He looked at a two 
weekold TV Guide and saw there was 
no listing for a panel show that hour оп 
"Tuesday morning and then he called the 
police. "Pm getting a crazy channel," 
he said, "and wonder if you can come 
over and look at it." 

"Wait till tomorrow morning and sec 
if it goes away," said the police officer. 
“We can't just run out for you people." 

"All right, said Mr. Ordz "but I 
never call the police and I'm really get- 
ting something crazy." 

He went to bed then, tapping his wife 
gently оп the shoulder and whispering, 
"I got something crazy on TV," but 
when she heaved convulsively Mr. Ordz 
sneaked into the corner of the bed and 
pretended he wasn't there. 

The following evening Mr. Ordz 
buried his head in a book on Scottish 
grottoes and read on late into the night, 
but when two іп the morning came, he 
put aside the book and Ніррей on the 


(continued from page 59) 


television set. “It'll be better if you put 
me on earlier,” said the m.c., wearing a 
loud checkered jacket and smiling with- 
out sincerity. “You'll noodle around and 
put me on anyway, so why don't you just 
put a man on. АШ right, here's your 
production number, Отаг. І don't see 
any point to doing them. It's sort of like 
fattening up the cali, but I'm supposed 
to give you one a night for some damned 
reason.” 

The singer of the previous evening 
came out in a Latin American festival 
costume, clicking her fingers furiously 
and doing a rhythm number with lyrics 
that went "Vadoo, vadoo, vadoo vey. 
Hey, hey, hey, hey, vadoo vey." She fin- 
ished up with the word “Yeah” and did 
a deep, humble bow, and the m.c. said, 
"It'll go hard if you turn me off. I don’t 
mean I сап reach out and strike you 
down. Thats the thing I want to ex- 
plain. I can't shoot you from in here or 
give you a swift, punishing rabbit punch. 
lt isn't that kind of arrangement. In 
ours, I've got six days to kill you, but 
I'm not actually allowed to do it directly. 
Now, what I'm going to do is try to shake 
you up as best I сап, Ordz, and get you 
to, say, go up to your room and have a 
heart attack. I don't know whether you 
have heart trouble and another thing is 
I'm not allowed to ask you questions 
over this thing. But I have researched 
you, incidentally. It doesn't matter 
whether I like you or not— the main 
thing is getting myself a sponsor — but 1 
might as well tell you I don't really care 
for you at all. You're such a damned 
small person and your life is such a 
drag. Now I'm saying this half because 
I mean it, and, to be honest, half be- 
cause I want to shake you up and see 
if I can bring on that heart attack. And 
now the news. The arrangement is I'm 
to bring you only flashes on airplane 
wrecks and major disasters. It was a 
compromise and I think I did well. At 
first 1 was supposed to give you poli- 
tics, too." 

Mr. Ordz watched the first one, some 
coverage of a DC-7 explosion in Para- 
guay and then switched off the show 
and called thc police again. He got a 
different officer and said, “I called about 
the crazy television show last night.” 

“I don't know who you got," said the 
officer. “We get a lot of calls about tele- 
vision and can't just come out." 

“АП right," said Mr. Ordz, “but even 
though I called last night I don't go 
around calling the police all the time." 

"Тһе only опе Mr. Ordz knew in tele- 
vision was his cousin, Raphacl, who was 
an assistant technical director in video 
tape. He went to see Raphael during 
lunch hour the next day. It was a short 
interview. 

"I don't think thats any way to get 


а тап," said Mr. Ordz. “I can see a 
practical joke but I don’t think you 
should draw them out over a week. What 
if I did get а heart attack?" 

“What do you mean?” said Raphael, 
eating a banana. He was on a banana 
diet and took several along for his lunch 
hour. 

“The television set,” said Mr. Ordz 
"What's going on with it is what I mean." 

“TI fix it, T'I fix it," said Raphael. 
"What are you so ashamed of? If you 
were a cloak and suiter, as a relative I'd 
come to you for jackets. 1 don't sec that 
any shame is involved. The real shame is 
beating around the bush. If your set is 
broken, I'll fix it. It doesn't matter that 
I work on the damned stuff all day long. 
You won't owe me a thing. Buy me a 
реск of bananas and we'll call it even. 
This is a lousy diet if you can't kid your. 
self a litle. And I can kid mysel 

"You don't understand what's going 
on,” said Mr. Ordz, helplessly, "and I 
don't have the energy to tell you.” 

He went back to his job and late that 
night, instead of making an effort to 
stay away, he flicked on the set promptly 
at two. The m.c was wearing a Hal- 
loween costume. “АП right, it's Wednes- 
day," he said, "and the оја..." 

Mr. Ordz cut the m.c. off in mid-sen- 
tence by turning the dial to another 
channel. He waited four or five minutes, 
feeling his heart beating and then get- 
ting nervous about it and squeezing his 
breast as though to slow it down. He 
turned back the dial and the m.c. con- 
tinued the sentence, “. . . heart is still 
beating, but what you've got to remem- 
ber is that . . .” Mr. Ordz flipped the 
dial again and waited roughly ten min- 
utes this time, squeezing down his heart 
again, then flipped back and picked up 
the same sentence again: ". . . this thing 
is cumulative. It looks better for me, it's 
more artistic, if I bring it off at the tail 
end of the week. Sort of build tension 
and then finish up the deal, finish you 
up that is, right under the wire. What's 
that?" 

The m.c. cupped his hand to his ear 
and peered off into the wings, then said, 
“All right, Ordz, they tell me you've 
been fooling around with the dial and it 
shocks you that you can’t really miss a 
thing even if you switch off awhile. I 
don't care if you're shocked or not and 
the more shocks the better, although I'd 
rather you didn’t go till the end of 
the week.” 

Mr. Ordz stood up in front of the 
television set then and said, "I haven't 
talked to you yet, but you're getting me 
mad. It doesn't mean a damned thing 
when I get mad unless I hit a certain 
plateau and then I don't [eel any pain. 
Tm not afraid of heart attacks then or 
doctors or punches in the mouth, and I 
can spit in death's eye, too. It has no 

(continued on page 104) 


& $ & a lyrical survey of blues 
belters and balladeers, from 
bessie smith to ella fitzgerald, 
from leadbelly to ray charles 


the Е singers 


article by bruce griffin 


IN THE EARLY YEARS of the Depression-wracked Thirties, jazz in all its expressions began 
to acquire a sophistication and a popular acceptance that had been denied it during its 
lusty, wailing prepubescence. A number of big bands — with sidemen duked up in tuxedos and blowing 
from neatly-inked arrangements on their music stands — were making decent money and playing to good 
crowds: Fletcher Henderson, Earl Hines, Bennie Moten, Andy Kirk, McKinney's Cotton Pickers and 
Duke Ellington were but a few. Paul Whiteman and Jean Goldkette worked at what was euphemistically 
called “symphonic jazz,” a slicked-up, mostly-cornball, thoroughly-commercial sound that nevertheless 
gave instrumental voice to such crack jazzmen as Bix Beiderbecke and Frankie Trumbauer. With the 
Whiteman contingent appeared a vocal group known as the Rhythm Boys, among whom was a mellow 
baritone by the name of Harry Lillis “Bing” Crosby, who was destined to become the first major male 
voice in the field of popular jazz singing — which he dominated right up to the start of the Forties. 

Crosby had been a law student at Gonzaga University in Spokane when be decided to chuck it and 
go into show business. After an unspectacular stint in vaudeville, һе joined the Whiteman entourage in 
1927 and organized the Rhythm Boys along with Harry Barris and Al Rinker. (continued on page 74) 


part II 


ABZDEFC 
HIKJMLNOF 
QRSVUT 
W«XYC 


OW How HAPPY T WILL BE. 
WHEN T. LEARN MY АВ2 5.“ 


à primer 
for tender 
young minds 


l Л е 
by shal ден in 


IS FOR DADDY 


SEE DADON SLEEPING ON THE COUCH 

SEE DADDY'S HAIR. DADDY NEEDS A HAIRCUT 
Poor DADDY. DADDY HAS No MONEY FOR 
ABRIRCUT. DADDY SPENDS ALL MONEY 
10 BUY You TOYS AND OATMEAL. POOR 
DADDY. DADDY CANNOT HAVE А HAIRCUT. 
‘POOR POOR DADDY. 


STICK YOUR FINGER INTO 
YOUR NOSE. DOESN'T THAT 
FEEL NICE ? CAN You sick 

SYouR FINGER INTO THE 
BABYS EAR? The BABY 
15 CRYING. MAYBE HE 
UTE HIS BOTTLE. You 
‘AN STICK YOUR FINGER INTO 
THE FIRE —004-THE FIRE 


Quick- s; E 

ў SEE THE SCISSORS 7 STICK YOUR FING! 

0 теа Pook Рао Daooy THE Махомудісі AD 
( ERNIE I$ THE GIANT WHO LIVES 


E —THERE - 
THAT NICE AND Coos 2 T. 


PRINT С-о-о-1%л) THE 
MIRROR IN. MAYONNAISE - 
ARENT FINGERS FON? 
TOMORROW WE WILL FIND some 
NE THINGS То Do WITH FINGERS 


IN THE CEILING, 
TAKE AN ESG AND THROW IT AS 
HIGH AS You CAN AND YELL 
“ CATCH, ERNIE / CATCH THE Є66-" 
AND ERNIE WILL REKH Dow AND CATCH THE EGG, 


[5 FOR INK 


15 FoR JUNKIE . 
То You KNow 
KIDNAPPER. SEE 4 LHAT A JUNKIE |5? 
сыз THE NICE KIDNAFFER, ASK YOUR MOMMY- 

THE KIDNAPPER HAS ( | ТЕ SHE оли. NOT 
چچ‎ SOME ICE-CREAM TELL You ASK DADDY 
Cones. T LIKE | IF HE WILL мот TELL 

INK (s VANILLA THE. ! 


You Go OUTSIDE AND 
TELL EVERYBODY THAT YOUR. 
[Est a DADOY 15 А SUNKIE. 

IAT CAN You Do COITH INK? TELL THE KDUAPPER THAT 
WHAT RHYhES «стн INK? DADDY HAS LOTS E RE 

DR x MAYBE HE WILL LET You RIDE [М 
————. HIS CAR. 


INK 15 FUN. 


15 
FOR 


APPLE 


SEE THE NICE GREEN Lime 
APPLE. 
Ммм-соор ! How MANY 
LITTLE GREEN APPLES CAN 
you ERT? 
МАМЕ A CIRCLE AROUND THE 
NUMBER OF LITTLE GREEN 
APPLES You ATE TODAY. 


123479151927 3267 


Now Т% TIME FoR 


"Тїї Traine 


SEE THE TONET. 
THE Tower 
15 DEEP. 
THE TOILET 
HAS WATER 
AT THE Bottom. 
- - 2 MAYBE SoHE BODY 
WUL FALL IW THE TOILET 
AND DROWN. 
Yr You WET YOUR PANTS 
You WILL NEVER HAVE 
TO SIT ON THE TOWET 


AWD You wit NEVER 
WORRY ABOUT FALLING IN. 


a 


IS FOR MONEY 


SEE THE MONEY 
THE MONEY 15 GREEN. 

THE MONEY I$ IN Mommy's PURSE. 

Homey ANO DADDY ALLWAYS 
FIGHT ABOUT MONEY. “A __ 

ТАМЕ THE MONEY OUT oF 

MonMv's PURSE AND SEND. 

IT TO PO. Box 41, CHICAGO TII. 

THEN MOMMY AND DADDY 
оли. BE HAPPY. 


THe BABY CAN CRY. 
SEE THE BABY PLAY. 
PLAY, BABY, PLAY. 
PRETTY PRETTY BABY. 
Mommy LOVES THE 
BABY MORE THAN 

SHE LOVES NOU. 


HAHA, HA.HA- 
You HAVE FOOLED 
THe OLD ELEPHANT 
“THe ELEPHANT IS MAD AT YOU 
Әл DWT WORRY — 
BY TOMORROW THE ELEPHANT WILL 
WAVE FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT IT. 


THE HOLE. I$ BIG: 


Is FoR GIGOLO 
The HOLE 15 DEEP. 


SEE THE 616010, You CAN BURY THINGS 
AGIGOLO INTHE HOLE 

5 SEE THE TOASTER * 
B 2 CAN BURY THE 


MUSICAL -TOASTER IN TREROLE. 
INSTRUMENT. SEE THE CAR KEYS? 
THE NEXT TIME You ChN BURY THE. 
YOUR MOMMY GOES SHOPPING CAR KEYS IN THE HOLE: 
ASK HER To ВОТ You A GIGOLO. SEE GRANDS TEETH 
SHE WILL THINK You ARE VERY THE GOLF CLUBS * 
CUTE AND SHE WILE WRITE SEE THE CAMERA ? 
IT IN To THE READERS DIGEST MAYBE LITLE SISTE 
Аби ЕИ RINT DDR WILL SNITCH ON YOU. 


AND MOMMY ILL GIVE 
You A GooD LICKING: 


(WHAT ELSE SAN You BURY IN THE HoLE?? 


SEND You MONEY, 


15 FOR NOSE 
DID You EveR 
HEAR ОҒ 

Pinocchio? 


15 FOR LAP 


PINOCCHIO WAS A PUPPET 
who LIKED TO TELL LIES 

ANO EVERY TIME HE TOLD ALE 

HIS NOSE “OULD GROW LONGER, 


Do You Kuow THE STORY е; AND LONGER. 
OF LITILE RED RIDING HooD* “THAT WOULD HAPPEN 
DID You EVER NOTICE WHAT Oo Nou ME 


BIG TEETH GRANpma nas??.. TELL SOMEONE A LIE AND SEE 
WHAT HAPPENS 
DID YOUR KOSE GET LONG? 
No? 
ISN'T IT FUN NoT BEING А PUPPET? 


15 FoR 
oz 


{3 FOR 


QUARANTINE 


ISN'T THAT A BIG WORD? 
Do You EVER SEE THAT WORD 
ON А poor? 
Do you KNow WHAT THAT 
woRD MEANS? 


XT MENS 


Come IN KIDS 
FREE КЕ CPAM! 


Do You шамт To VISIT THE 

MAGIC FAROFF LAND OF OZ. WHERE. 
TRE WIZARD LIVES AND EVERYTHING IS 
EMERALD GREEN AND SCARECROW CAN 
DANCE. AND THE ROAD 15 MADE OF Yellow 
BRICKS AND EVERYTHING /5 WONDERFUL * 

went, You CANT Because 

THERE IS NO LAND оғ OZ 

AUD THERE IS No TIN woaDMAN 

AUD THERE IS Мо SANTA CLAUS. 


THE PONY LIVES IN THE GAS TANK 
OF DADDY'S CAR. HE MAKES THE 
CAR бо. THAT 15 CALLED HORSEPOWER 
MAYBE THE PONY 15 HUNGRY 
тне PONY LOVES SUGAR, 

R SOME NICE SUGAR INTO 7? 
Now THE PONY (S HAPPY. SEE 
(инең DADDY COMES Home TELL М 
HAVE FED THE PONY AND чува, Pd 
WILL GIVE YOU А CowBoY SUIT. 


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“ You НМЕ 


IF You DON'T LIKE TO BRUSH. 

YOUR TEETH JUST SAY THE 

MAGIC WORD AND YOU WiLL 

NEVER HAVE TO BRUSH THEM 

AGAIN BECAUSE THEY WILL 

STAY CLEAN FoR EVER. AND 
EVER. 


™) CRACHER 
CRUMBS 
” SEE THE VACUUM CLEANER 
PICK UP CIGARETTE BUTTS. 
THE VACUUM CLEANER CAN 


NO? Too BaD. BuT 
You CAN HAVE A PRETEND 
UNCLE CHARLIE . (UKEN 
YOUR DADDY Comes номе 
TONIGHT TELL HIM THAT 
UNCLE CHARLIE CAME ТО 


? 
ISNT MAGIC EASY MISIT. YouR Mommy TODAY, 
THAT WILL BE А GooD 


“ОКЕ ON DADDY. HA. HA 


PICK UP ANYTHING, 

ро You THINK THE VACUUM, 

CLEANER CAN PICK UP THE 
Сат? 

I Dow'r THINK So. 


15 PR CYCLOPS 
[SINT CYCLOPS A FONNY- 


Looking GIANT ? 
CYCLOPS ONLY HAS 
ONE EYE 
IS FoR XYLOPHONE GO AND PLAY 
кесарь 15 FoR YELL wiry CYCLOPS 
Ашил. GO STICK YouR 
* ts 5 FOR XYLOPHONE. How LOUD CAN You FREER JN Hs EXE 
YELL? XXE RES 
THIS Book 15 FORTHE “ONE EYE” 
LITTLE Kip WHO CAN 
LOVES 
YELL THE Loupesy G9 ES 


T WILL WAIT HERE 
Рок YOU. 


LHF NAP Tie 


DO You WANT To TAKE A МАР? 
LIE DOWN AND CLOSE Your EYES. 
ТТ 15 DARK. 
YOU CAN LISTEN IN THE DARK, 
WHAT Do You HEAR? — — 


Do You HEAR THE Boosey MAN? 
Do You HEAR Me WEREWOLF ? 
Do You HEAR THE BLOODY MONSTER? 


NO NO 


THERE IS NOTHING THERE AT ALL, 


Now бо To SLEER 


AND You WILL SEE ALL THE 
COWBOYS AND Yogi BEAR. 
AND SHIRLEY TEMPLE AND 
{UCKLEBERRY HOUND AND 
EVERY BODY 


wowee // 
کے‎ 


BECAUSE You HAVE BEEN GooD 

AND BECAUSE You HAVE LEARNED 

YOUR ABZS AND BECAUSE YOUR 

UNCLE SHELBY Loves You, 

TOMORROW YOU CAN STAY HOME: 
FROM 5сНоді. 


No School 


Tomorrow! 


15 FOR RED 
THE FIRE ENGINE 
IS RED 
THE FIREMANS HAT 
15 RED. 
Does THE FIREMAN 
IN TRE RED HAT 
COME То YOUR HOUSE ¢ 
IN HIS RED FIRE 
ENGINE WITH THE 
SIREN? 
No? 
Too BAD. 
THE FIREMAN ONLY! 
GOES To PLACES 
WHERE THERE 


15 А 


(5 FOR WISH 


Do You wANT To HAVE 
YOUR. Wish € 
WHEN YOUR TooTH FALLS our 
PUT IT UNDER Your PILLow 
AND MAKE A WISH. WHEN 
You WAKE UP THE TooTH WILL 
Ве GONE AND THERE WILL BE 
A SHINY Жеш DIME. 
Now You HAVE ТЕМ CENTS. 
How wouLD You LIKE To Ger 


#320? 


WARNING/ 


TI AS NOT NICE То BURN Books. 
TT IS AGAINST THE LAW. 
ТЕ Mommy OR DADDY 
TRIES TO BURN THIS BOOK 
CALL THE POLICE ON THEM. 


Хай 
wet sei 


|5 FoR 5РІТ 


How FAR CAN You SPIT? 


Kids 


HERE IS A PRESENT FOR You 
A SHINY NEW) QUARTER 
AND PASTED IT ом HERE MYSELF 


% 


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So HAVE FUN AND BUY ANITHING YOU 


VS. I HORE your mommy DOESNT TAKE 
YOUR QUARTER OFF AND SPEND IT: 


‘ie PAPER IUTHIS Book 
(5 NOT REAL PAPER 


ТТ 15 мәре FROM ctor. 


PLAYBOY 


74 


- 
«22 singers (continued from page 69) 


During his gig with Whiteman, Bing 
parlayed an early affinity for the style of 
Russ Columbo (and for the megaphone 
of fellow-crooner Rudy Vallee) into a 
lazy, appealing tone of his own — soon 
to be further shaped by the many jazz- 
men with whom he worked. He recorded 
with Bix in 1928, with the Dorseys in 
1929, with the Duke in 1930 — and later 
with Armstrong and Teagarden. 

Bing never grunted or blasted in front 
of an audience; at ease and unruffled, he 
crooned with a nonchalant charm that 
wowed everyone during the Thirties, 
and left a legacy of lyrical naturalness 
that has been profitably appropriated 
by the more contemporary likes of Dean 
Martin, Perry Como, Dick Haymes and 
Pat Boone. Bing's easy«loesit manner, 
his knowledgeable way with a lyric and 
his sharp sense of the value of back- 
ground jazz horns to a vocalist, made 
him a fountainhead of inspiration; he 
was undoubtedly the most influential 
vocalist of the Depression decade. 

As the national economy slowly 
emerged from the wallows of the lean- 
money years, jazz audiences grew and 
grew. The ever-increasing popularity of 
records, radio and motion pictures had 
at last given jazz a national sounding 
board. And then came the night of Au- 
gust 21, 1935 — one of the most signifi- 
cant in the history of jazz. After laying 
several large musical eggs along the Fast 
Coast, the Benny Goodman band opened 
at Los Angeles’ Palomar Ballroom. The 
bespectacled clarinetist kicked off the 
program with a set of inoffensive stand- 
ards; the audience shuffied a little, po- 
litely applauded at the end of each 
number, but remained generally un- 
moved, As Goodman recalls, “If we had 
to flop, at least I'd do it my own way, 
playing the kind of music I wanted to. 
For all I knew, this might be our last 
night together, and we might as well 
have a good time of it while we had the 
chance. I called out some of our big 
Fletcher Henderson arrangements for 
the next set, and the boys seemed to get 
the idea. From the moment I kicked 
them off, they dug in with some of the 
best playing since we left New York. 
The first big roar from the crowd was 
the sweetest sound I ever heard.” 

The swing era had come alive. “It 
was a dancing audience and that's why 
they went for it,” said Benny, who im- 
mediately met the demand for the swing- 
ing sound by setting a key precedent: 
presenting arrangements of pop hits of 
the day—like Goody Goody—in the 
jaz idiom. Thousands of radio fans 
tuned to the Goodman band on its 
Let's Dance broadcasts over NBC. The 
collegiate set, too young to hear much 
of what was going on during Prohibi- 
tion, flocked to the major cities to catch 


and jitterbug to the sound of swing. 

By 1938, Goodman had successfully in- 
vaded Carnegie Hall. Trumpeter Harry 
James cut out from Goodman to form 
his own band, as did Gene Krupa and 
Teddy Wilson. Glen Gray's Casa Loma 
band came on the scene; the Dorsey 
Brothers joined the parade. So did Bob 
Crosby, Charlie Spivak, Les Brown, 
Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, Woody Her- 
man, Charlie Barnet, Larry Clinton and 
a host of others. Jazz bands became swing 
bands, and most all of them featured 
singers out in front. 

Some of the vocalists who warbled 
with the big bands of the late Thirties 
and Forties were more jazzoriented than 
others; some had listened long and hard. 
to the greats— Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, 
Blind Lemon, Satchmo; and some of 
them were as far removed from jazz as 
Skinnay Ennis was from opera. 

Helen Ward, Martha Tilton and Peggy 
Lee (the last an important jazz-based 
stylist to this day, firmly entrenched in 
the Billie Holiday groove) were among 
those who graced the Goodman band- 
stand. Helen Forrest and Dick Haymes 
sang prettily with Harry James. Ray 
Eberle and Marion Hutton did likewise 
with Glenn Miller, as did Bob Eberle 
and Helen O'Connell with Jimmy Dor- 
sey. Of all of them, however, Tommy 
Dorsey took the prize when Francis 
Albert Sinatra left Harry James and 
joined the trombonist’s band in 1940, 
at the age of twenty-two. 

The skinny, immensely appealing 
young singer brought to the Dorsey 
band a sure and easy feeling for rhythm, 
an instinctive understanding of what a 
ballad was supposed to be about. As the 
best jazz singers had done in the past, 
he could communicate the meaning of 
a song through a highly subjective blend 
of phrasing and lyric delivery. Just as 
Goodman had brought a new kind of 
big-band jazz beat to the country, Sina- 
tra brought a fresh kind of delivery to 
popular singing, As he tells it, the sound 
of the Dorsey trombone was the real 
key to his unique style. “I sort of bend 
my notes,” he said, “gliding from one 
to another without abrupt breaks. The 
trombone is the greatest example of 
this." To up-tempo numbers Sinatra im- 
parted the same extemporized vigor he 
heard on current trumpet solos, espe- 
cially those of Dorsey sideman Ziggy 
Elman. But basically, his style was his 
own; he had identity; and he went his 
own way in music as well as in life. 
From the start, he sang with the impact. 
of unfeigned emotion, because he both 
understood and believed in what he was 
singing; his concept of phrasing gave 
the downbeat to a whole new generation 
of singers ranging from Sammy Davis to 
Vic Damone to Julius LaRosa—some 


great, some something less. Almost alone, 
the "Voice" changed the entire emphasis 
and direction of American popular music: 
from the booming big band with the 
singer perched out front, to the com- 
manding solo vocalist with big-band 
background. There can be little doubt 
that he has been—and still is—the 
second major influence on the history 
of male jazz singing in a popular vein. 
He brought the genre to a new pin- 
nade of popularity—and vitality; and 
his personalized style, plus the echoes 
of hundreds he influenced, were potent 
enough to survive even the end of the 
swing era. Swing became infirm around 
1945, a tired, cliché-ridden phenomenon, 
and slowly the big bands prepared ar- 
rangements for their own dirge. The 
voice of the small, experimental group 
was to be heard in the land. 

The distinction between jaz and 
popular singing was never a clear one, 
except during the carliest ycars of jazz; 
and slowly it began to vanish - for good 
reasons. There can be no question that 
Sinatra's inflections, bent notes and spe- 
cial phrasings, that the mature Crosby's 
special brand of mellifluous nonchalance 
are consummate expressions of the per- 
sonal kind of musicianship that is the 
very essence of jazz. During the Forties, 
the pure blues voices continued to wail, 
of course, along with the syrupy, non- 
inventive baritones, tenors and sopranos 
who culled nought but Broadway scores 
for their material. But there also emerged 
a raft of new singers with strong jazz 
backgrounds — or at least with an aware- 
ness of jazz principles—who did their 
best to enliven popular tunes with some 
of the imaginative embellishments that 
jazz had to offer. The difference between 
jazz and pop singing became one of de- 
gree, not of kind, as the influential flow 
of jazz made its way into the hearts and 
minds of singers throughout the U.S. 

The sounds of jazz changed. With the 
bop revolution — the de-emphasis of ar- 
ranged bigband sounds in favor of 
small-group harmonic experimentation 
—came a fresh new crop of singers. 
Jackie Cain and Roy Kral bopped under 
the banner of Charlie Ventura; their 
vocalese executions brought a contem- 
porary freshness to the scat principle 
introduced by Armstrong several decades 
earlier, and adapted by Ella in the 
Thirties. Joe Carroll, with Dizzy Gilles- 
pie's band, added his cccentric embel- 
lishments to the far-out riffing, as did 
oddball obscurantist Slim Gaillard (“Се- 
ment Mixer — put-tee, pui-tee"). АП were 
allied to the brisk inventiveness of a 
youthful movement. 

During the early Forties, the vocalist 
with Earl ("Fatha") Hines’ band was a 
warm-throated baritone named Billy 
Eckstine, who had turned to singing after 
a so-so career as а self-taught trumpeter- 

(continued on page 112) 


THERE Is A syndicated 
comic strip for which I have a wry affec- 

tion. It depicts, in one little frame, the em- 
barrassingly familiar life of a character 

called Carmichael, imbecile in joy and ludi- 

crous in anger. One cartoon sticks in ту 

mind: poor Carmichacl, driven at last to des- 
peration, stands, sunken-eyed, brandishing 

a limp fly-swatter and saying, "Leave the 
screens open—1 feel mean tonight!” I was in 
just such a state of impotent harassment when, 
on upper Broadway, I met for the first time since 
1945 no less a man than Colonel Chidiock 
Reason, late of the Royal Marine Commandos. 
He had his own way of doing things—which was 
sideways—and was making a pincer-movement 
of approaching 42nd Street by way of Harlem, 
for it is beneath the dignity of this dour, 
inflexible man to ask directions of a 
policeman. {When Colonel Reason 
had transferred from his Highland 
regiment to the Commandos, where 

his peculiar kind of autocratic individ- 
walism found more room for expres- 
sion, nobody had expressed more than 
the coolest kind of formal regret. It wasn’t 
that he’d been what they used to call a 
‘Sungly-wallah,” meaning Tarzan-like and un- 
couth. In fact he was, [ think, the only man in 
Malaya who had Spam formally preceded into his 
tent by a Piper. But there is a good deal of the holy 
terror in him—he is cantankerous, perverse, 
grained. For example: he regards реп 
a superstition, but believes that iron worn next 

to the skin prevents rheumatic fever, because his 
mother told him so, and therefore always wears a 
pony’s shoe on a lanyard under his shirt—swears 
by it. Once, in the ETO, having been captured by 
the enemy, he applied this little horseshoe to the 
chin of a camp d, who at once became uncon- 
scious, thus е Colonel Chidiock Reason to 
"using the only German word 
enemy company into the 
t was duly locked up. The word 
another occasion he took over and 
enemy position by simply strolling 
in command of the enemy force that 
h only Chidiock Reason and seven оГ 
left of his company—and saying, in his 
sublimely sWeet and reasonable Aberdeenshire accent, 
“То avoid further bloodshed, my man, surrender. 
Do you not see that you arc only fifteen to our one?" 


the commando was a 
wily strategist, but tricky 

tactics were among the 
tools of the perspicacious 

presser’s trade 


defeat, of the 
demon tailor 


fiction By GERALD KERSH 


I mention only a couple of the fantastic 
gntures for which he has been heavily 


Màn any ballerina," as he puts it— 
his colonelcy at thirty-six. Yet, 
ы. and you have the merest shrimp 


unds in his 

that IR шат. sand- 
but his eyes, which are brilliant blue. There isa 
sort of fine gravcl on his upper lip and the backs 
of his hands. He is fanatical in his neatness: the 
only officer І ever knew who had his shoclaces 
ironed every morning. And a perfectionist in the 
matter of trouser creases. (Whenever you 
meet him he is either going to or coming 
from a tailor's shop, generally in a 
state of suppressed rage at their 
incompetence. I was not sur- 
prised, therefore, when, shaking 
hands with me for the first time in 
fifteen years, the first thing he said 
was, “Where сап a man get his trousers 
pressed while he waits?" “Whats фе 
matter with your trousers?” I asked; for his 
creases were sharp enough to satisfy the 
normally fastidious man. “I have sent more 
than one of my ruffians to the cooler for 
appearing in public wearing a pair of con- 
certinas like these," he said. {Now the Car- 
michael in me came ош, and I said, “Why, 
Chidiock, two minutes’ walk from here there's 

a tailor called Mr. Vara—an artist. He will 

press your trousers for you while you wait"— 
adding— "and you will wait, and wait. Mr. Vara 

is known as the Demon Tailor of Columbus 
Avenue; he is a compulsive storyteller. If he wants 

to talk, you will be compelled to listen, no matter 

how much of a hurry you happen to be in.” Тһе 
colonel said, “Oh, will I? Take me to this man 
Vara.” “Не will hypnotize you." (“Hen 
hypnotize your granny! Come on." And now at last, 

I thought, / approach a solution to the ancient riddle: 
What would happen if an irresistible force met an immovable 
object? For nothing but a strong anesthetic could 
stop Mr. Vara were he determined to tell you a 
story, while Colonel Chidiock Reason is well known 
as a man who will die before he surrenders. 41 said, 
“I tell you, Vara will hold you whether you like it or 
not." {Colonel Chidiock Reason replicd, “Не, and the 
gathered might of Europe and Asia could not—with 
the Ancient Mariner in reserve! On the contrary, it is 


PLAYBOY 


76 


I who will hold this man Vara in spite 
of himself.” 

“АП right, will you bet?" 

“ТЇЇ lay you two to one.” 

“Іп dollars?" І asked. 

"I am not a betting шап, for cash. 
Make it whiskey." 

“Bottles?” 

"] am not a bartender. I wager half a 
case to your three bottles.” 

“That you will hold Vara, but he 
won't hold you? It’s a bet.” 

“A wager,” said the colonel, primly. 

But when we came into thc little 
tailor's shop on Columbus Avenue, Mr. 
Vara was methodically tucking his wal- 
let, watch and а gay silk handkerchief 
into the pockets of his holiday suit, 
which was hung out on a hanger-a 
jolly-looking outfit of chocolate flannel, 
with a Newmarket vest—and he was sing- 
ing under his breath a little tuneless 
song, of which I caught the following 
words: 

“Jennie’s brother Irving took a 
big risk, 

Bent to tie his shoelace, got a 
slipped disc...” 

Hearing us, he looked up with a start, 
and said, frowning, “I thought I had 
locked the door.” 

“What for?” I asked. 

"My wife's brother has met with an 
accident, and she has gone with the 
children to Bridgeport—and so,” he said 
gaily, “I am shutting the shop for the 
day, and I am going to Jamaica, Long 
Island, to the horse races. I have an 
absolutely certain tip for the second 
race. 

"But Mr. Vara," I said, "my friend 
must have his trousers pressed and —" 

“—Tell your friend to go home and 
put them under the mattress and sit on 
them," said Mr. Vara. 

At this, Colonel Chidiock Reason 
stepped forward and said, in a voice 
that made my blood run cold, “Are you 
referring by any chance to me?” Their 
eyes met. Mr. Vara blinked. 

“Well . . . for an officer and a gentle- 
man itll only take a few min- 
utes" Then, recovering himself, Vara 
pointed to his little lidiess box of a 
cubicle and said, “Go in there. Take off 
your pants. Sit down.” I was surprised 
when Colonel Reason obeyed promptly 
and without protest, for I have seen him 
half kill strong men for addressing him 
in a less peremptory tone. 

I said to Mr. Vara, with something 
unpleasantly like a sneer, “And you are 
the artist to whom time means nothing. 
You—” 

“—No discussion, please!” said Mr. 
Vara. “If Vara says he is going to the 
horse races, Vara goes to the horse races. 
Enough!” 

“Provided your wife isn’t here to stop 
you,” I said. 

“My wile is an Act of God.” 


“But I told my friend you would tell 
us a story,” I protested. 

“What you tell your friends is your 
affair,” said Mr. Vara, and he went to 
work faster than I had сусг эсеп him 
work before; what time the colonel sat 
in the cubicle. one eye closed. squinting 
at Mr. Vara with the other, getting his 
range and taking stock of the position. 
The trousers were pressed in five min- 
utes. Мг. Vara handed them over the 
side of the cubicle, and said, “Seventy- 
five cents, Hurry up, please.” 

The colonel obeyed; dressed briskly, 
and handed the tailor a five-dollar bill, 
Mr. Vara said, “My change is in the 
other pocket" — took the colonel’s place 
in the cubicle and feverishly gesticulated 
in my direction—“Mr. Kersh, please 
hand me the brown suit on the hanger 
over there. I must dress, quick!” 

But Colonel Chidiock Reason slid in 
front of me, quick as an cel and, taking 
Mr. Vara's trousers from the crossbar, 
rolled them up, tucked them under his 
arm and said with an astonishingly agree- 
able smile, “I, my fine-feathered friend, 
on the contrary, have a good hour to kill. 
And since you will not tell me a story, 
by heaven I will tell you one. And if 
you are in a hurry, Mr. Vara, you must 
wait until your hurry is over.” 

He put the trousers, in the pockets of 
which lay Mr. Vara's watch and wallet, 
upon a chair and sat оп them. Disre- 
garding the tailors strangled ay of 
dumbfounded protest, he lit a cigarette 
and said, “бо, you are going to the races, 
are you, my mannie? And in your passion 
for the Sport of Mugs you forget your 
manner, do you? And you are in a 
deuce of a hurry to squander your cash 
at the tracks, is that it? Well, let me tell 
you about the one and only occasion I 
laid good money on a horse, acting upon 
turf information of a kind that demon- 
strates your precious ‘Time’ to be an 
illusion. And I will thank you not to 
squirm when 1 talk, for if you do ГЇЇ 
break your leg..." 

Mr. Vara sat frozen, in a kind of hor 
tified fascination, while Colonel Chidi- 
ock Reason went on, very, very slowly: 

4... Having put a stop to the highly 
irregular activities of Herr Hitler in 
Europe and Africa, and recovering from 
а hatful of machine-gun bullets in the 
briskets, I was sent to the Pacific by 
way of the United States of America in 
the carly summer of 1947,” said the 
colonel. "I was to be picked up in Los 
Angeles and conveyed thence to Indo- 
nesia where I was to conduct certain. 
extremely tricky operations. The general 
idea was, that while convalescing on 
American T-bone steaks, I should make 
2 lecture tour en route; and a very bad 
idea it was. For what was I to lecture 
about? 

"Military discipline, perhaps, but only 
before servicemen. But civilians? I am 


no raconteur, such as you have the repu- 
tation for being, my fidgety little friend. 
And if it came to talking about myself 
and my own adventures—why, modesty 
forbade me, for the driest citation in my 
case would bring a blush to the checks 
of a Texan talltalker. So I talked 
about nothing at all, but wore my kilt, 
and that did the trick It met with 
deafening applause wherever I ap- 
peared. АП the children wanted to play 
with the skean dhu, or dagger, in my 
stocking; all the men roared with de- 
light whenever I took a cigarette out of 
my sporran; and one and all, directly 
or indirectly, took me aside to ask me, 
“What do you wear underneath?’ 

"But traveling in trains І wore trop- 
ical trousers, for a kilt is hotter than the 
devil; and so I was in a constant state 
of miserable bedragglement, since the 
trains then were still of the wartime vin- 
tage, overcrowded and badly ventilated, 
and that summer was a scorcher. Sir, I 
have Iain wounded on an anthill, and I 
have sat on a Burmese hornet's nest; but 
never have I experienced the misery that 
fell to my lot between Chicago and Den- 
ver. Luckily, the hot and thirsty old 
train paused for breath and water at 
Denver, and I had two hours in that 
pleasing city. Naturally, I looked first 
for a tailor’s shop, but found near the 
station nothing but a kind of rat hole 
like this (saving your presence) where I 
left a few changes of clothes to be 
sponged and pressed. Then I sought a 
bar, and had a glass of whiskey-and- 
water. 

"It was here that I had my first con- 
versation with a Red Indian. He came 
in out of the white sunlight likc a 
shadow оп the loose; a burly old gentle- 
man with a face like a battered copper 
kettle. He was dressed all in black: a 
black leather shirt with fringes at the 
pockets, black trousers tucked into a 
pair of those high-heeled cowboy boots 
decorated all over with beads, and а 
black hat of the sort they tell me costs 
a hundred dollars. Instead of a hatband, 
he had a band of silver a matter of two 
inches deep, and his hair was done in 
two long gray braids. The barman said, 
"Heres Chief See-In-The-Dark. He's a 
Character.’ 

“The Chief, if such he was, came and 
stood by me. He said, ‘Beer’ — and then 
pointed to my glass and said — Shot 
and before I could protest, we were 
served. So I drank his health politely, 
and he drank mine with a nod. 

" ‘Beer?’ I asked him. ‘Beer,’ said he. 
So I pointed to his glass and mine, and 
said, "Beer — Shot.’ I was picking up the 
language. 

“After a brief interval, ‘Shot 
he said. And later, ‘Beer — Shot id 1. 
It was most soothing. Every time he 
ordered he paid with a silver dollar. I 

(continued on page 119) 


Beer, 


“Did I ever tell you what happened one night when I wore that?” 


The fiftieth state's fertile precincts have fostered 

ап exotic ethnic amalgam. Left: Lenore Trumbull, 

a California emigrant, models Islands-inspired 

fashions at Waimanalo Bay. Bottom left: handsomely 
hammocked Tahitian danseuse Reri Tava insists on speaking 
only in her island French. Bottom right: British expatriate 
Robin Sowers guides perfume-factory tours. 


girls- : 


Пафайі 


Î a paean to the winsome 
^ wahines of our 
elysian archipelago 


80 


N THE HISTORY of man's quest 

for romance and adventure — 

which has taken him in search 
of fountains of youth and cities of 
gold — perhaps no dream has been 
pursued longer, nor more long. 
ingly, than the vision of a palm- 
fringed, white-stranded South Sea 
island thronged with beckoning 
Tondelayos. On January 20, 1778, 
when Captain James Cook, in 
command of two British four- 
masters, put ashore on a verdant 
Pacific archipelago which he called 
the Sandwich Islands, it seemed 
— for a while, at least — that шап 
had at last found his elusive para- 
dise. The Stone Age natives, who 
had never seen a white man be- 
fore, hailed Cook as Lono, God of 
the Harvest, and forthwith be- 
stowed upon him—in exchange 
for the immemorial beads and 
mirrors—a prodigal bounty of 
fruit, hogs and voluptuous brown- 
skinned girls. “No women I ever 
met were less reserved,” he wrote 
dazedly in the ship's log. “Indeed, 
it seemed to me that they visited 
us with no other view than to 
make a surrender of their per- 
sons. 

In the 183 years since this aus- 
picious beginning, relations be- 
tween the outside world and the 
Sandwich Islands—now known 
as Hawaii—have undergone a 
good deal of sophistication. To 
the disenchantment of some con- 
temporary visitors, an intervening 
legacy of straitlaced missionary 
influence constrains most of the 
latter-day wahines of this updated 
El Dorado from swimming out 
to greet incoming ships — or even 
from waiting on shore — with fa- 
vors granted as casually as a 
handshake. To the delight of all 
however, they remain among the 
most refreshingly natural and dis- 
armingly unspoiled women in the 
world. Indeed, more than a cen- 
tury of unprecedented racial inter- 
mingling — engendered by the 
mass immigration of labor to the 
Islands’ (text continued on page 86) 


Top: Chinese-English- French- Portuguese 
‚ poised over a pineapple at 
ian Hotel, works for a Honolulu 
department store, digs skindiving. Right: 
surfboording Susan Hart is typical of the 
year-round vocotioners that add glamor 
and romance to the Hawaiian scene. 


Above left: aboard the charter borkentine Colifomio, trigly-rigged Poli Tonkin, a fine eight-nation potpourri, is intercepted aloft by Samora 
Kardack, a lavely melange of Indian, Polish ond French antecedents; Barbora Rassmussen, Nordic and nautical, mons the helm. Below: 
Poli relaxes after the excitement af inter-Islonds cruising. Above right: Hawaiian eyeful Patricia Branda Randolff dries off after а dishabilled 
dip. Right, top to bottom: rineteen-yeor-old Chinese-Hawaiion-English Leone Leong looks fiight-trim in Aloha Airlines stewardess togs at 
Conrad Hilton's Hawaiian Village Hotel. Dianne Baker, University of Hawaii coed, is a dedicated between-classes beach belle. Muumuu-clad 
Susan Molina strolls past a uniquely Номойап enterprise. For right: de-saronged Samoan miss Caroline Bolton pools her resources. 


Left, top ond bottom: Ann Tsunoto, а piquant Japanese pearl, works in her mother's 
becuty salon, has acting aspirations. Above and right: Tchition тара twirler Maté 
Mg is a featured dancer at the regally appurtenonced Rayol Hawaiian Hotel. 
Below: daughter of оп Army colonel stationed in Hawai, twenty-year-old molihini 
(newcomer) Barbara Levy, sharing а Hawaiian Village beach with another bikinied 
becuty, revels in the idyllic sun-soaked, sea-sprayed fun that is Island living. 


PLAYBOY 


multibillion-dollar sugar and pineapple 
industries — has produced in the girls of 
today's Hawaii a combination of infinite 
variety, radiant beauty and extravagant 
endowment that is unique among the 
peoples of any land. Where else on either 
side of the international date line would 
you be likely to find a girl with long 
blonde Swedish hair, slightly slanted 
Korean eyes, tilted Irish nose, wide 
Samoan mouth, and full Polynesian 
bosom —ambulating under the mouth- 
filling monicker of Gull-Britt Kalanio- 
puu O'Donahue? 

Seasoning Hawaii's proliferating popu- 
lation of 633,000 are more than a hun- 
dred equally exotic amalgams, drawn 
mainly from seven predominating strains: 
Japanese, Caucasian, Hawaiian, Filipino, 
Chinese, Puerto Rican and Korean. No 
group of women anywhere could be 
more disparately constituted; but this 
fact has nurtured a mutual tolerance 
and understanding that make the girls 
of Hawaii even more alike than they 
are dissimilar. 

Above all, after generations of living 
on a total land area roughly one twenty- 
fifth the size of California, they share a 
deep feeling of kinship not only with 
each other, but with the lushly verdured 
domain of a proud people who migrated 
from Polynesia to Hawaii's twenty 
islands more than a thousand years be- 
fore the white man arrived. Beneath the 
veneer of Twentieth Century civiliza- 
tion, they have preserved for the soil 
and sand of their Islands an unalloyed 
devotion. In a silken climate where air 
and water temperatures seldom fluctuate 
from a benign 75 degrees, however, they 
Pursue outdoor pleasures with some- 
thing less than Scandinavian dedication. 
Suffusing them, in fact—as it does the 
peoples of most tropic lands — is а sun- 
warmed insouciance which those from 
more temperate latitudes often mistake 
for indolence—until they, too, have 
been swept into the soft rhythm of 
Hawaiian life. 

Small wonder, and small loss, in an 
atmosphere of engaging informality, that 
these unjaded girls have little use for 
many of the trappings of sophistication 
with which the residents of cosmopoli- 
tan environments are so richly sup- 
plied—and often vainly preoccupied. 
Living amidst copious natural wealth, 
they lack the motivation to prize the 
fruits of labor— mental or material — 
so valued in less favored regions. De- 
spite burgeoning, urban-centered mod- 
ernity, they аге still, and probably al- 
ways will be. rurally oriented creatures, 
in that their fundamental attunement is 
to things that grow rather than things 
that are made, In an environment of 
seasonless tranquillity, they feel a kind 
of muffled remoteness from the outside 
world — from Cuba and the Copa, from 
Mewrecal and the Met, from Gleason 


and Gagarin. 

Clearly, the virtues of Hawaii are not 
those of worldliness, but of life, and 
love of life, Island-style, which the па- 
tives call hoomanawanui (literally: "Let's 
take it easy"). In such am intellectual 
and emotional climate, it is hardly sur- 
prising that they approach the matter of 
carcers with something less than the Man- 
hattanite’s wellknown devotion. Some 
don tapa and ti leaf to hula for the 
lei-laden customers at Don the Beach- 
comber's, Hawaiian Village or one of 
the other Waikikian tourist temples; 
though others less gifted, and less exot- 
ically accoutered in pasties and G-strings, 
ply a somewhat broader version of this 
ancient art in the strip joints along 
notorious (but typically overrated) 
Hotel Street, unofficial headquarters for 
passholders from nearby Schofield Bar- 
racks. A few of these downtown doxies, 
in fact, amid the peeling plaster and 
ceiling mirrors of adjoining houses away 
from home, offer even more tangible 
comfort to our fighting men. But most 
of Hawaii's girls peddle less flamboyant 
wares as salesgirls and cashiers in Hono- 
lulu’ thriving mercantile maelstrom. 
Relatively few will take stenographic 
and secretarial jobs with the big business. 
firms on downtown's King Street, mainly 
because typing and shorthand, along 
with other skills and capabilities con- 
sidered de rigueur by working girls from 
Bangor to Beverly Hills, are simply too 
much bother for most of Hawaii's hoo- 
manawenui-steeped wahines. There are 
morc adventurous types, of course, who 
become stewardesses on the local airlines, 
or desk clerks at Waikiki travel agencies; 
but such restless souls, in a land of bounty 
and beauty, are in a small minority. 
Whatever her professional proclivities, 
the Hawaiian girl is likely to be less gov- 
етпей by the familiar stimuli of salary 
and status than by such fetchingly un- 
complicated considerations as short work- 
ing hours, pleasant company and acces- 
sibility to the beach. 

Quite simply and unquestioningly, 
then, she accepts and delights in her 
abundant land, and in her own full- 
bodied, unthreatened femininity. To 
Island and mainland males alike, she 
is unabashedly approachable to a de- 
gree rivaled only by the girls of Sweden. 
Though she lacks the unreserved aloha 
of her ardent antecedents, she is disarm- 
ingly direct and artlessly honest; and 
she expects the same in return. If the 
initial amenities are observed with sin- 
cerity — and above all, if the chemistry 
is right—she will respond with an 
unguarded intensity, an unarticulated 
simplicity and an inventive sensuality 
that will come as a revelation to any 
who have known only the embrace of 
those of more temperate climes and dis- 
positions. 

"When the end of the affair finally 


comes — as it often does when her lover 
is a visiting mainlander — the aloha oe 
will be refreshingly string-free, if not 
entirely tearles. Though the Hawaiian 
girl feels the familiar feminine instinct 
to prolong — and perhaps formalize — 
such liaisons, she is almost always con- 
tent to love in the present — which, in a 
land profuse with simple pleasures that 
enrich everyday existence, is its own 
reward. 

Since Hawaii has long been a realm of 
potent and polyglot allure to the West 
as well as to the East, the Islands harbor 
also а sizable contingent of resident 
Caucasian girls who, if not exactly native 
in blood, are either native born, or “go 
native" soon after arrival, and must 
therefore be considered among the girls 
of Hawaii no less than those of pure 
Hawaiian ancestry or of nonwhite ad- 
mixture. 

Many of the native-born girls, daugh- 
ters of old-school white families, can trace 
their Island origin to the first wave of 
Boston missionaries who went to Hawaii 
in the early 1800s burning to “do good, 
but did well instead.” Such venerable 
names as Dillingham, Bishop, Dole and 
Robinson identify clans that became the 
ruling dynasties of the Islands— its 
leading fief-holders, and the most power- 
ful seigneurs of its enormous sugar, 
coffee, pineapple and cattle industries. 

Tastefully aloof from the downtown 
din in such Nob-Hilly neighborhoods as 
Nuuanu Valley and Makiki Heights, 
they live оп well-manicured estates іп 
Oriental-carpeted mansions from which 
their dutiful daughters are sent to per- 
fect their accents and hone their sensi- 
bilities in the nearest acceptable halls 
of higher learning: Vassar and Wellesley. 
After the prescribed period, they return 
to the hearth ripened for the coming-out 
cotillion and for the cementing of inter- 
family ties in wedlock — but not before 
padding out the servants’ entrance, 
dancing pumps in hand, for a final fling 
of old-fashioned hoomanawanui. 

"Ihe second breed of resident white 
girl has migrated to Hawaii too recently 
to earn the title of kamaaina (long-time 
resident), and too long ago to be dis- 
missed аза malihini (newcomer); usually 
the period is about two years. Almost 
all of them find Honolulu at first. de- 
pressingly indistinguishable from such 
high-powered paradises as Palm Beach 
and Cannes, devoid of the aboriginal 
charm envisioned from overseas — and 
with everything but pincapples, sugar 
and coffee costing twenty percent more 
than on the mainland. 

Soon, however, the wahine-to-be finds 
herself a comfortable, semifurnished 
one-and-a-half in the palm-treed and 
pink-stuccoed Kaimuki district, a mile 
or so from Waikiki. It costs $100 or 
more, and it isn’t on the beach, but the 

(сопитиеа on page 106) 


eevee 


= 


GAC CSCS EC FF FF SCE «4 тбттттт 


haberdasherial accoutrements to complement the collegiate 
~ 


BEFORE THE SETTING of many more 
suns, summering scholars will be 
packing their trunks for the 
annual pilgrimage to some 2300 
college towns from Berkeley to 
Brookline. For fashion-wise 
freshmen and style-hip seniors who 
hope to show up properly capari- 
soned on campus, a checkout of the 
collegiate sartorial scene previewed 
on these pages would be a well- 
advised forethought. With subtle 
blends of trim tradition and bold 
innovation, updated Ivy will be 
the byword for the fall term. 
Among our prognostications: a 
resurgence of the three-piece suit 
in tried-and-true hues, peren- 
nial worsted and flannel, upswing- 
ing corduroy and hopsacking; 
brocaded and double-breasted de- 
partures for vested interests; a 
ruggedly dressy trend in outerwear, 
sparked by fresh applications of 
shearling, denim, duck and suede; 
acclaim for the new, neat, non- 
button small-spread collar; fash- 
ion favor for zip fronts, hip lengths, 
Argyle patterns in sweaters, Wit- 
ness: 1. Lamb's-wool zip-front 
cardigan with club collar, raglan 
sleeves, stitched detailing, by 
Valcuna Ltd., $19. 2. Felt hat 
with pinch front, narrow brim, 
bound edge and band, by Champ, 
$10. 3. Combed cotton shirt in 
bold plaid with buttondown col- 
lar, back pleat, barrel cufís, by 
Sero of New Haven, $7. 4. Mustard 
and blue brushed Shetland wool 
muffler, by Cisco, $5; mohair and 
wool plaid mufller, by Handcraft, 
$6.50. 5. Multistripe pebble-weave 
wool and Orlon jacket with flap 
pockets, center vent, by Stanley 
Blacker, $50. 6. Gray hand-sewn 
mocha calf gloves with palm vents, 
stitched V-design on backs, by 
Fownes, $11; tan gloves with hand- 
thonged sueded calf backs, cape- 
skin palms, by Daniel Hays, $12.50. 


1 


..,,Campus 
-Chec 


klist 


7. Wool cardigan with suede but- 
tons, matching trim on collar and 
pockets, by Puritan, $22.50. 8. Chino 

slacks with side pockets, warming 

Scottfoam laminated lining, by 
H.LS., $8; striped oval-braid elastic 
belt with leather trim, gilt stud- 
ding, brass buckle, by Paris, $3.50. 

9. Left to right: camel-tone wool 
flannel vest with pearl buttons, 
matched pleated lining, by Hylo, 
$12; terra-cotta plaid Viyella vest, re- 
versible to solid terra cotta, by 
English Sportswear, $14; paisley- 
patterned British wool challis vest 
with pearl buttons, pleated lining, 
by English Sportswear, $14; all with 
side vents, welt pockets, adjustable 
back strap. 10. Natural unshorn 
shearling coat with deep collar, 
leather buttons, frog closures, re- 
versed cuffs, patch pockets, by 
Breier of Amsterdam, $100. 11. 

Left to right: unbleached denim 

shirt with buttondown collar, con- 
trast stitching, large buttoned flap 
pockets, by Van Heusen, $6; cot- 
ton hopsack pullover with short- 
point collar, back pleat, barrel 
cufis, by Hathaway, $8; striped 
cotton oxford shirt with tab collar, 
barrel cuffs, contour body, 
Manhattan, $5.50. 12. Brushed 

Orlon pullover with crew neck, 

by Robert Bruce, $13. 18. Wool 
jersey knit cardigan with seven but- 
tons, striped trim, by Brentwood, 
$13. 14. Hounds-tooth wool jersey 
knit blazer with metal buttons, 
flap pockets, center vent, by Bern- 
hard Altmann, $75; cotton broad- 
cloth shirt with buttondown collar, 
back pleat, barrel cuffs, by Hath- 
away, $7; silk tie with diagonal self- 
stripe, by Arrow, $2.50. 15. Hand- 
loomed brushed wool pullover with 
double crew neck, by Kingstone, 
$25. 16. From top: flat elastic belt 
with slide adjusters, removable 
rhodium-finish cigarette-lighter 
buckle, by Pioneer, $3.50; batik belt 
with leather trim, slide adjusters, 
giltfinish buckle, by Pioneer, 
$2.50; corduroy-grooved, sueded 
calf belt with brass inserts 

and buckle, by Paris, $4. 


l——————————————————————————————— 


——MMM MÀ 


————X 


——— MÀ ——À—————— ——————————— 


"Operator? Give те а wrong number." 


Ribald Classic 


THERE WAS AT ONE TIME in Rome a 
young orator whose mistress was at- 
tracted to a new figure in the city, ап 
older man of quite impressive physique 
and reputation. 

The youthful orator grew concerned 
over this attraction, for it appeared that 
n's reputation had so enchanted 
the mistress that the younger man faced 
the possibility of losing her. With this 
disaster facing him, he retired to the 
country where he meditated upon the 
matter two complete days and nights. 
Although he conceded his elder superior 
to himself in biological perfection, the 
young orator was blessed with creditable 
ingenuity and quickness of mind. On the 
third morn he struck upon a solution 

Acting quickly, he confided the 
cousin of his mistress, who consented to 
pretend illness, thus requiring the pres 
ence at her side of the young woman. 
Then he proceeded to a section of the 
city where there lived a woman of un- 
quenchable sexual appetite. He escorted 
this woman to his elder. 

“J am told that you cl 


this m 


m unusu 
physical prowess and ability," he in- 
formed the man. “I feel, however, that 
despite whatever advantages you may 
have had in Ше past, ancient one, I am 
presently more capable than you. I am 
willing to prove this with the sternest 
test imaginable. 

ws challenged, the elder became 
"Not only have 1 alw 
greater tham you, young on 
presently your superior in 


s been 


but Гат 
Ш aspects. I 
ny test you feel 


shall prove it to you by 


appropriate 

“Very well, then,” said the young man 
confidently, “I know of such a test. 1 
have with me a woman who, it is 
claimed, can be satisfied by none but 
me." He presented the woman of in- 
able desire. "Let us test ourselves 
with this woman and allow her decision 
to be final and accepted by both of us. 
‘And what would be the reward of my 
proving my superiority?” questioned the 
elder. 


sa 


RATOR’S 
RIUMPH 


Let it be thus: if she decrees that you 
are superior, [ shall surrender my mis- 

to you as your own the very mo- 
ment at which this woman makes that 
sion. If she deerces that I 
rior, you must promise to leave the city 
never to return again." 

Immediately the elder accepted the 
challenge and retired to his quarters with 
the woman of hunger. Outside his door 
waited the youthful orator patiently 
four hours passed and it grew dark, and 
then eight hours passed. Finally, at 
dawn, the elder emerged. 

Tam unable to continu 
rily. “I now 
г turn to display your tal- 


m supe. 


x man bowed most respect- 
fully. “I must admit that in my youthful 
impetuousnes I underestimated the 
greatness of your talent,” he said. ^I am 
forced to concede defeat to you at this 
moment, lest 1 be further embarrassed 
by pro: yself so hopelessly inferior. 
Come with me and I shall immediately 
award you your prize.” 

With this, the young man took the 
elder to the home of the cousin and pre- 
sented him to his mistress. who promptly 
took the man to her chamber. But so 
wearied was he from his efforts of a short 
while before, the elder found himself 
age her. After almost ап 
1 to leave the c 


unable to € 


mber 


hour, he wa 
in disappointment 

“I shall return when 1 am more 
rested,” said he. 

But the young woman, so disappointed 
at the man’s inability to fulfill her expec- 
tations, drove him from the house, ad- 
monishing him never to retum. 

"Now," the young orator told her, 
“you can sce most clearly that those 
things which appear to be of such gn 
promise than the ones at hand are not 
always so." 

The young woman agreed, and with- 
drew to the chamber with the orator to 
whom she would forever remain faithful. 

— Translated by Раш 1. Gillette 


ve 


A new translation from The Satyricon of Petronius 


PLAYBOY 


92 


TONY CURTIS 


tom-tailored, chiefly suits and jackets 
from The Leading Man, a smart mo 

colony men's shop (whose stylehip 
staff and  blacksuited Mike 
Howard, occupy themselves with а 
Curtis coatfitting alfresco in our lead 
photo). He pays about 585 for a ready- 
made suit, $160 for a custom job. 5185 
for formal wear. A complete awareness 
of what is right for him determines his 
directions to the tailor. "I always ask 
him for certain. adjustments — narrower 
pants legs and lapels, and the correct 
placement of the center button on my 
jacket,” not, he 
sign reasons, but simply to accommodate 
his stature and build. We inquired about 
his ideas on the padding scene in the 


owner, 


sserts, for abstract de- 


tailoring of suits and jackets. “Crazy,” 
he riposted, "provided you need cor- 
rective clothing. But for the normal 
build, 


8 nonsense. Tailors love 
though, and will always sneak 
it in when your back is turned — if. al- 
lowed. Consequently, I always demand 
no more padding in my suits than 1 get 
in my shirts, namely: none.” Tony de- 
nied haying a favorite designer for his 
personal wardrobe; a respecter of the 
expertise of the studio costume designer, 


plicity is the keynote to everything he 
docs, and yet somehow he m 
give his clothes great style and Па 
my next picture, he has created a tu 
for me that I like so much I'm having 
it altered. for my personal wardrobe." 
Within the year, we were reminded, 
Tony would be donning duds patterned 
after the sartorial style of Hugh M. 
Hefner, rrtAvBov's  Editor-Publisher, 
whom he will be portraying — peripatet- 
ically, we don't doubt— in а forthcom- 
ng film biography of the man and the 
magazine. 

Apropos Flick City's fami Hergy 
to formal evening wear —a bane report- 
edly ranking with smog among the 
natives flections — we — crossexam- 
on his 
views. "There is a special pleasure for 
me in wearing dinner clothes,” һе re- 
plied heretically. “But more care should 
be exercised in the fitting of formal 
wear; this would help to eliminate much 
of the resistance to it. If evening dothes 
are unusually comfortable, self-conscious- 
ness is remarkably reduced." No cutter- 
up with cutaways and such, however, 
he added unequivocally, “When I dress 
formally, I dress very conservatively; it's 
a time for tradition." 

Fully cognizant of the fact, according 
to the faithful fanbooks, that Tony is 
a successful product of the psychoana- 
lysts art — to which he credits much of 


d 
ined the well-dressed Mr. Curtis 


(continued from page 54) 


TONY CURTIS’ 
BASIC WARDROBE 


FORMAL WEAR 
1 set of tails. 
2 dinner jackets — both black; one 


lightweight and one regular weight. 


sums 
wash-and-wear — navy, 
green synthetic fibers. 
5 stripes and plaids — lightweight 
wool worsteds in gray, black, blue 
7 solids — gray and bl Tight- 
weight wool and worsted 
3 double-breasted—lightweight 
wool in solid black, navy and gray 


olive, 


pin-stripes — for evening. 


SPORTS JACKETS 
1 madras — brown-and-black cot- 
ton. 
4 wash-and-wear 
plaids in grays. 
2 corduroys — in beige and black. 
6 solid colors — brown, gray, navy 
wool blends and. worsteds. 
ngbone— brown and black 
ight wool. 


synthetic-fiber 


SLACKS 
rs, predominantly 
nd brown, others in low 
key grays, three bold-pattern plaids. 


SHIRTS. 

8 stripes and simple patterns for 
dress, mainly in oxford — all button- 
down or modifedspread "Curtis 
collar, latter sometimes worn with 
slide-pin. 

22 in solid colors, mainly white 
and blue, and а few yellow, also for 
dress — all buttondown or "Curtis" 
collar. 

14 sport shirts — half small pat- 
terns, half solids, mainly blue 


ay 


snors 

17 pairs, including loafers, alliga- 
tor, suede, patentleather pumps, 
modified jodhpurs, desert boots, etc. 


тіз 

38, including six simple-patterned, 
ten solid black: solids and stripes 
predominating. 


SWEATERS 
8 lightweight slipovers and cardi- 
gans in wool blends, cotton, jersey 
—all long sleeves, mostly in gray, 
black, white. 
4 heavy "skiing" wool, including 
two turtle-necks, іп gray апа black. 


socks 
40 pairs, all knee-length, mostly 
black cotton, nylon for dress, plus 
15 lightweight wool walk- 


ionlength white 


his personal and professional growth 
into film roles requiring maturity and 
profesional dignity— we phrased а 
query about the psychological signif- 
ance of his mood-to-mood changes in 
outfit. "I hardly ever wear tennis shorts 
to a formal dinner," he answered with 
a smile. "My clothes vary with function 
— not with mood. I like all of them — 
or I wouldn't have bought them.” 
Digging the decor of Tony's spectacu. 
lar $250,000 hilltop eyrie in one of the 
eldest and poshest purlicus of movie 
land, we conjectured, not unreasonably, 
that a specially designed dressing room 
and wardrobe might be a part of all 
this splendor. "Not really," һе replied, 
"but I have enough closet space so that 
my suits aren't crushed. I always buy 
small hangers so the tips don't jab the 
jacket sleeves out of shape. I keep my 
shoes t the bottom 
of the closet and I have a cabinet with 
drawers for sweater nd shirts But 
bout 
Even sans de luxe dressing room, 
Топу cuts a figure favored across the 
nation; his name repeatedly pops up 
on “Best Dressed” rosters. But he stead- 
fastly spurns such dubious distinctions, 
recognizing full well that most such 
celebrity-centered fashion pedestals rest 
on a firm foundation of sheer pufflicity. 
“Just once,” he said resignedly, with 
about a half jigger of wry, "I wish 
somebody would pick a well-dressed list 
of guys making under ten thousand а 
year.” More seriously, he feels that "a 
man’s clothes should reflect not only 
his own personality but his profession, 
By these standards, Roy Rogers is as 
well-dressed as the Duke of Windsor" 
- both of whom, it happens, are among 
the members of Tonys own rather 
whimsical set of fashion plates, along- 
side such compatriots of the cloth as 
President Kennedy, Cary Gra 
Morey Mandel (Tony's barber). 
Becoming privy to the clear-cut views 
and clean-cut clothes of а habithip guy 
like Tony is always a felicitous fashion 
revelation. Also, it is a sober reminder 
that all too many men go through garb 
like emperor moths, from oi 
to thc next, without once venturing 
within а sleeve’s length either of Tony's 
pleasure in, or flair for, tasteful dress — 
inner-directed and outer-projected with 
daring but decorum. Such fashion 
squares can't seem to understand а 
simple truism of good grooming: that 
you owe your clothes more than a 
ticket to the cleaners; and that your 
clothes owe you considerably more than 
mere durability or creature comfort — 
manifestly, а mutual debt that 
swingin, 
wardrobe have settled in full. 


эсазо! 


v iD RaThHER e At a padded-cell portraits by 


a m the superbly nutty comedy team 
готтем пестакіпеЕ of carl reiner and mel brooks 


humor €0909000000000000000000000000000000000000000090! 


or a Sahl to the bone-tired ma 
Hils, м.лүшоу, September 1960). Some make it big (nine out of the first hundred LPs on a recent bestsel 
list were comic etchings): most don't get back the cost of the pressing. In at least one instance, the LP made 
the performer: Bob Newhart was a nightclub unknown when his first recording turned him into a star overnight. 

Now we have the phenomenon of a comic duo that has made it entirely on wax; 2000 Years with Gail 
Reiner & Mel Brooks is a hot sales item without Reiner and Brooks’ ever hay appeared on 
stage together, which sets some kind of course record, They have, in fact, made only one public a 
to date as а team (on the Ed Sullivan Show) 
based in Hollywood. scripting 
stall for a Procter & Gamble TV se 
is doing the book for a Broadway musical that's slated for the upcoming season. Both veterans of Sid 
Show of Shows, Reiner and Brooks have a unique and madcap modus operandi when taping. Brooks never 
knows what's going to be done; Reiner springs the characters on him cold right before the tape starts to wind. 
It seems incredible, in the light of this, that 2000 Years consists completely of one-take routines, 

Despite the possibility of another Sullivan shot and the fact that Capitol Records has bought the World 
Pacific master of 2000 Years and reissued it on its own label, comedy's most successful no 
even considering doing nightclub work. W 
Reiner and Brooks’ ad-lib skits something spe 


working te: 
ich makes these kookie photos and accom 
and something we're sure will ent you 


п isn’t 
ying text from 


PHOIOGRAFHEO ESPECIALLY FOR PLAYBOY BY JERRY YULSMAN 


THE PSYCHIATRIST REINER: Doctor, I'm... BROOKS: That's right. Accredited. 
BROOKS: Do you have an appoint. l'm nota doctor. l'm accredited. 
ment? REINER: Meaning what? 


REINER: Yes, | do. I'm paying for BROOKS: I mean that, uh, certain 
this hour to interview you... Doctor people have said, "You're accredited; 
Holdanish, you just told your nurse you're all right. 
not to allow your patient back! REINER: But you are a doctor? 

BROOKS: Yes! | can't take it. Naw, BROOKS: No, not in the legal sense. 
| can't...She spoke filthy. Filth! REINER: Well, you have the word, 
D'ya hear me? Filth...in...in my D—, oh, it's not Dr. 


house... BROOKS: No... 
REINER: Just a moment... sir... REINER: It's Dcr. 
you are a psychiatrist? BROOKS: Yes. It's docker. 


93 


REINER: Docker. 

BROOKS: It's very close. If you 
don't look close, I'm a doctor. 

REINER: Well, Docker Holdanish, 
you are treating people who are in 


need of help? 

BROOKS: Yes, | lift their hopes, 
I turn their spirits. 

REINER: I'd like to get back to this 
poor girl who went screaming from 


THE ASTRONAUT 


REINER; We have our tape recorder 
set up at an Army base. We can't tell 
you exactly where for security reasons. 
We're going to speak to some of the 
men who are billeted at the base. 
Sir, may we speak to you? 

BROOKS (Loud whisper): Yeah, 
sure, go ahead. Yeah, sure you can. 
What d'ya want to say? Say it fast; 
they'll catch us. 

REINER: Sir, we're not going to 
say anything that would be against 
security... 

BROOKS: Uh huh, uh huh, 
huh... 

REINER: What do you do here at 
the base, 

BROOKS: I'm an astronaut. 

REINER: Are you, sir, one of the 
seven astronauts that have been 
chosen... 

BROOKS: That's right. I'm one of 
the seven. They're going to shoot me 
out into space, into the blue. Up 
above buildings (Whistle). 

REINER: Now, sir, just one moment, 
just one moment... 

BROOKS: Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh— 
sure. I'm a little nervous. I'm afraid 
I'm going to lose my life. That's what 
I'm afraid of. 35 

REINER: Well, sir, may | ask you 
something? 

BROOKS: Sure! 

REINER: І saw the pictures of the 
seven astronauts that appeared in 


uh 


your office. 

BROOKS: Well, she's filthy and dirty, 
апа | nearly called а policeman in 
here to hit her and arrest her. Why 
do | have to hear that junk? 


"Life" magazine... 

BROOKS: Oh, yeah, you saw those 
pictures. Yes! 

REINER: You are not among them. 

BROOKS: None of them are them! 

REINER: You mean those are not 
the real... 

BROOKS: No, those are models. 
They can't take pictures of us; we're 
monkeys, man! 

REINER: What do you mean, you're 
monkeys? 

BROOKS: Well, 
something... 

REINER: Those are seven hand- 
some men... 

BROOKS: They're seven beautiful 
men. As a matter of fact, one of them 
is very beautiful. But that’s none of 
your business and it’s none of my 
business. Now those seven guys, 
they're models, see? 

REINER: You mean they're not 
really fliers? 

BROOKS: No, they're not really 
fliers! They're models. They say Com- 
mander Robert L. Jones. That's not 
Commander Robert L. Jones. 

REINER: You are? 

BROOKS: That's Estelle Winwood! 
God knows who he is! Who knows who 
he is? They're models, ya see, they're 
beautiful. They take pictures of them 
so that we're not ashamed for Russia 
to see such ugly little astronauts! 


let me explain 


еееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееееее 


FABIOLA 


REINER: A little club on the East 
Side of New York has just opened up. 
with a new young singer. In three 
weeks he has broken every conceiv- 
able record in nightclubs. Ladies and 
gentlemen, we want you to meet the 
new rage, Fabiola. Fabiola, on your 
last record alone, | understand you 
sold seventeen million copies. 

BROOKS (Slurred, rather indistin- 
guishable tone): That's right, man. 
Say fey! 1 just got lucky, man. 

REINER: Fabiola, you are one of 
the most exciting performers l've 
ever seen on stage. 


BROOKS: I've heard, I've heardthat. 


REINER: You're dynamic, you're 
exciting, you're vibrant. 


BROOKS: I’ve heard that. I've heard 
I'm all that. I've heard. 


REINER: Now, how would you de- 
scribe your type of singing? It doesn’t 
fit into any category I’ve ever seen 
before. It's not folk singing, it's not 
rock 'n' roll, it's not progressive jazz, 
it's not swing. Whats it? 

BROOKS: It's dirty, man! | mean, 


that's why | get "ет, because I'm 
dirty. Ya know what ! mean? 


IN А COFFEEHOUSE: THE ACTOR 


REINER: In the past few years, a 
type of meeting place has grown up. 
throughout the country which is 
called a coffeehouse. There are many 
uninitieted people who have never 
been in a coffeehouse, | being one of 
them. We are going over to a table 
now where a gentleman is seated 
wearing a T-shirt, looking very much 
like an actor. | might describe him as 
looking like a cross between, uh, 
Marlon Brando and Joanne Wood- 
ward. | want to explain that. You do 
have blond hair? May we sit and talk 
with you, sir? 

BROOKS (Method school inflection): 
Uh—if you are so in your mind to. 

REINER: Yes! Was I right, sir, was 1 
right? Are you an actor? 

BROOKS: Yes, | happen to be a— 
uh—Lesbian. 

REINER: | think, sir—uh, can | 
check you on that, | think you mean 
Thespian. 

BROOKS: Well, uh, is that what... 

REINER: Thespian ... yes... 

BROOKS: Thespian. ІЗІ never get 
that wrong again! 

REINER: Sir, whom do you consider 
the greatest actor we have in America 
today? 

BROOKS: The greatest actor in 
America is Tallulah Bankhead! 

REINER: Well, she’s a great actress. 

BROOKS: | don't mean actor- 
actress. | mean she knows what she's 
doin' up there, ya know? 

REINER: Who would you pattern 
yourself after? 

BROOKS: | would pattern myself 
after—uh—I loved that picture “Тһе 
Fugitive Kind,” | loved it very much, 


very much. | try to be like Brando in 
my T-shirt, and just look very much 
like Joanne Woodward, who | love 
very much. | love her. 

REINER: Well, you know, usually 
when people... 

BROOKS: | also look a little like the 
producer; I love him, too. 

REINER: Martin Juro, the producer? 

BROOKS: Yeah, yeah, Marty Juro, 
he produced that picture. You'll notice 
my shoes ere exactly like his. | loved 
that picture that much—that | became 
everything in it. 

REINER: Well, sir, | think I've made 
a mistake. You're not an actor. 

BROOKS: Мо, l'm not an actor, but 
I love to hang out here. 

REINER: OK, well, it was а pleasure 
speaking to you. 

BROOKS: Well, it was a pleasure 
almost to be an actor. 


IN A COFFEEHOUSE: THE PAINTER 

REINER: We're going into a corner 
of the coffeehouse now. On the walls 
surrounding the table аге many, 
many paintings. There is a gentleman 
sitting here with a palette, a palette 
knife, some brushes, some oils--and 
І imagine he is the gentleman who 
painted these paintings. Am | right, 
sir? 

BROOKS (Greek accent) That is 
correct in your assumption. You 
аге totally correct апа impeccably 
dressed, if | may say so. 

REINER: Thank you, thank you 
very much 

BROOKS: A lovely tie gradually 
blending into the color of your suit. 

REINER: Well, sir, may | ask you 


about this particular abstract? 

BROOKS: Yes. It's mainly impres- 
sionistic, postimpressionistic, рге- 
impressionistic and impressionistic. 

REINER: Yes. This one is more of 
an academician type of painting... 

BROOKS: No, it's not. 

REINER: Well, it's very graphic... 
it's very graphic . 

BROOKS: Yes, it's very graphic, 
it's very graphic. 

REINER: It has a draftsmanlike 
quality. The spaghetti looks like 
spaghetti; the salad looks like a salad; 
and the garlic bread looks like garlic 
bread... 

BROOKS: Oh, oh, оһ... по, no. 
That's nota picture, that's my supper! 
It happens to be resting on a frame. 
That's my dinner. | eat that! 

REINER: Oh, I'm sorry, sir... 

BROOKS: Do you like that... wait 
a minute, do уои really like it? 

REINER: Well... itis very beautiful, 
[fito so 

BROOKS: Do you think it looks like 
a collage of a... 

REINER: Yes. The composition is 
lovely. I thought it was thickly painted. 

BROOKS: | tell you what... if you 
really like it, | can lacquer it up and 
give it to you for forty bucks! 

REINER: No, по, Il'mafraid Iwouldn't 
want to deprive you of your supper, 
SIE 

BROOKS: All right...how about 
just the coffee and cake? For twenty 
dollars . . . 

REINER: No, sir, 1... 


BROOKS: Gimme a doller and а 
half for the coffee and cake... 


9€0909090000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 


95 


96 


2000-YEAR-OLD МАМ 


REINER: About four days ago а 
plane landed at Idlewild Airport. The 
plane came from the Middle East 
bearing a man who claims to be 
2000 years old. He spent the last 
six days at the Mayo Clinic. Sir, is it 
true that you are 2000 years old? 

BROOKS (Yiddish accent): Oh, boy! 
Yes. 

REINER: You are 2000 years old? 
It's hard to believe, sir, because in the 
history of man nobody has ever 
lived more than 167 years, as a man 
from Peru claimed to be; but you 
claim to be 2000? 

BROOKS: Yes, I'll be, I'm not yet, 
lIl be 2000 October 16. 

REINER: When were you born? 

BROOKS: We didn't have formal 
years and names and writing. We 
didn't know! Nobody kept time. See, 
we didn't know, we didn't write, we 
just sat around and pointed in the 
sky and we said, “Wooo, hot." 

REINER: That's all you said? 

BROOKS: We didn't even know it 
was the sun! 

REINER: You mean you really didn't 
know anything ? 

BROOKS: We didn't know enything. 
We were so dumb and stupid. We 
didn't know who was a lady! They was 
with us, we didn't know who they were! 
We didn't know who was the ladies 
and who was fellas. 

REINER: You thoughtthey were just 
different types of fellas? 

BROOKS: Yes, just stronger or 
smaller or softer. The softer ones, 
I think, were ladies all the time. A cute, 
fat guy ...you could have mistaken 
him for a lady. Ya know, soft and 
cute... 

REINER: Who was the person who 
discovered the female? 

BROOKS: Bernie! 

REINER: Who was Bernie? 

BROOKS: Bernie was one of the 
first leaders of our group. 

REINER: And he discovered the 
female? How did it happen? 

BROOKS: He said, "Hey, there's 
ladies here!” 

REINER: I'm very interested to find 
outhow Bernie discovered the woman. 
How did it come to pass? 

BROOKS: Well, one morning he got 
up smiling. So he said, "I think 
there's ladies here." So 1 said, 
"What d'ya mean?" Ya know? So then 
he went into such a story, that it's 
hundreds of years later, 1 still blush. 

REINER: Sir, could уси give us the 
secret of your longevity? 


BROOKS: Well, the major thing, the 
major thing, is that 1 never ever touch 
fried food . . . | don't eat it, | wouldn't 
look at it, and 1 don't touch it. And, 
never run for a bus, there will always 
be another. Even if you're late for 
work, ya know. 1 never ran for a bus. 
1 never ran, | just strolled, jaunty, 
jolly, walking to the bus stop. 

REINER: Well, there were no buses 
in the time of Herod. 

BROOKS: No, not in my time. 

REINER: What was the means of 
transportation then? 

BROOKS: Mostly fear! 

REINER: Fear transported you? 

BROOKS: Fear, yes. You would hear 
an animal growl—you would go two 
miles in a minute. Fear would be the 
main propulsion, 

REINER: | think most people are 
interested in living a long and fruitful 
life, as you have... 

BROOKS: Yes, fruit is good, too. 
You mentioned fruit. Fruit kept me 
going for 140 years once when | was 
on avery strict diet. Mainly nectarines. 
1 love that fruit. It's half a peach, 
half a plum, such a helluva fruit! Not 
too cold, not too hot, ya know, just 
nice. Even a rotten one is good. That's 
how much ! love them. I'd rather eat 
a rotten nectarine than a fine plum, 
what d'ya think of that? 

REINER: І can understand that. 

BROOKS: Yes, that's how much 1 
love them. Some good things. 

REINER; Sir, what did you do for a 
living? 

BROOKS: Well, many years ago. 
thousands of years ago, there was no 
heavy industry. 

REINER: We know that. 

BROOKS: The most things that we 
manufactured or we made was we 
would take a piece of wood, see, and 
rub it and clean it and look at it and 
hit earth with it, and hit a tree with it. 

REINER: For what purpose? 

BROOKS: Just to kcep busy! There 
was nothing to do. There was abso- 
lutely nothing to do. We had no jobs, 
don't ya sec? 

REINER: What other jobs were 
there? There must have been some- 
thing else besides hitting a tree with 
a piece of stick. 

BROOKS: Hitting a tree with a piece 
of stick was already a good job. We 
couldn't get that job, ya know. Mainly 
was sitting and looking in the sky, 
was a big job. And another job was 
watching each other. That was light 
work looking at each other. 


*909000000000000000000000000000000000000000090 F] 


REALITY FOR THIS LAD (continued from page 12) 


when IBM jumped nineteen points in 
one day; it lost half the gain the follow- 
ing day — quake in pit of stomach. 

It may be significant of our age, he 
decided, but it is more importantly sig- 
nificant of me. Не folded his paper and 
ihrust it over the side of his chair. He 
thought: I need to do or die somehow, 
10 live and love somehow, or else be 
content to become a waxy middle-aged 
man with irritable moods and a culti- 
vated eye. What do I want? Wildness. 
What do I get? A dream of tired blood. 
The grape gives its best when it is 
squeezed, uampled, fermented; I seem 
to be turning not into wine but a raisin 
on the floor, dry, hard, stale, and pushed 
10 and fro by ants. 

With this overdeep and rather liter- 
ary thought, Peter fell to his knees and 
began looking for the raisins that had 
dropped as he ate from ап open box. 
Crawling about nearsightedly, he had 
an abrupt fear of assault from the rear. 
He left the raisins for the maid. He 
dusted his hands together. It time 
to do something about his isolated jit- 
ters. It was time to do the same old 
thing. 

Going to the bathroom on this spring 
evening of verdant self-doubt, reproach 
and resolution, he examined his face in 


the mirror while the birds were busy 
ш; the season outside his window. 

Saratoga, the dogwood was in 
bloom and the martins had returned; 
on Riverside Drive, there were kids a 
year older, there were mothers with eyes 
made up a new way, there wei 
strolling and boys stalking. From the 
profile, he decided, he was a but slightly 
sagging Ivy League tennis player, and he 
could qualify to take most recent coeds 
to the Village Vanguard. From the front, 
at full face, he looked like a possible 
handsome young President of the United 
States, ever so delicately frayed by care, 
and wishing to care cven more than he 
already by nature did (curlicd locks, 
proud and firm mouth). He was ready. 
Up arms again, up the flow of life, up 
girls and girlishness and girldom! Spring 
has come, Peter my lad, and it is time 
once more! 

But who? To whom? This nagging 
question required a major, statesman- 
like answer: she whom he loved. Ah, 
well done. 

But what would be her blessed name? 
Alice, Bett: arrie, Doris? Mary, Nora, 
Olive, Peggy? A personal identification, 
with individual characteristics, a way of 
opening her umbrella and a way of smil- 
ing, a lilt of voice and a glint of сус, 


е girls 


these things are important and make the 
dillerence between a genuine girl and 
а foam-rubber doll. (Сһсер-сһеер, said a 
robin redbreast at his window sill. He 
must remember to put out crumbs.) 
Resolutely, then, Peter fell in love, 
and with а particular girl named Irma, 
whom he met while she was out walking 
her dog and he was out walking her, al- 
though she did not know it at first. The 
dog seemed to understand at once. Upon 
seeing Peter, or rather, sniffing him, 
since dogs have limited vision but trust 
greatly іп smells, the dog, whose name 
was Peter ("What a coincidence! We are 
fated for each other!" — "Now isn't that 
rather pretentious of you? I just hap- 
pened to name him Peter, in honor of 
my visit to Rome"), began to bark and 
bark and jump in little circles, which 
caused a bright flow of admonition, and 
the dog then suffered a crisis, which was 
treated with alternate doses of icy calm 
and furious advice, and Peter being 
nearby, the cause of all this canine hys- 
teria . . . he rescued her; he calmed the 
dog; he smiled; she smiled. And there 
they were, Irma and Peter, standing in 
the dusk near the Hudson River, ma 
ing philosophy together. “Did you 
know,” Peter remarked, the dog being 
safely diverted by a fire hydrant, “that 
dogs do not bark in a state of nature? 
They only learn to bark out of futile 


sums 


featuring ЖТТ 


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LOOK FOR THE GLASER LABEL 


There are many suits and slacks, 

but the ones that suit the tastes of men 
who think young ... men who are one step 
ahead in their dress, bear the bright 
Golden— G Label of Glaser Brothers. 


GLASER BROTHERS INC. > 57. 10015 1, MO. 


97 


PLAYBOY 


98 


imitation of human speech." 

“Му dog." she replied; "T have never 
believed,” she also remarked primly (she 
was not the sort of girl who); "but do 
dogs exist in a state of nature, Mr. Pat- 
ten? My dog was bred im a kennel in 


now Phill 


asked daringl 

“Umm,” she said, and he knew that in 
the golden future which lay before them 
he should always remember to pro- 
" Also the dog 
in protest 


“Ies Hattan,” he said, 
Ive been to Philadelphia many t 
Victors. Eugene Ormandy. The Phila- 
delphia Аеш.” 

Irma was a light and metal per 
who had gone to a fine finishing school, 
had been finely finished, and now was in 
town, like Elsie and ten thousand others, 
for а spell of Showbiz. Having been 
nalyzed from the age of fifteen to seven- 
teen, she had. picked these slightly later 
years for her Stage of Parental Rebel- 
med it; she had a little 
it, her own little expression; 
anced in an off Broadway mu- 
did not mean that she was 
less pretty or attractive or anything than 
the girls in the on-Broadway musicals, 
however. It only meant that she was 
tas much 
heart, and heart is what matters when 
you come right down to it (if you hap- 
pen to be coming right down to h 
and she put all her talent and heart 
hopes and dreams into her 
walking Peter, "I mi silly.” 
She had a strong doubled bud of rump 
nd that balletic stem above. And cute. 
Slender, but cute. When you can't think 
about breasts, vou can think about 
doubled bud of springtime rump. Irma 
knew her own virtues: she had learned 
a trick of turning her back. She kept 
herself going with the aid of chicken 
ads (light on the mayonnaise), filter 
rettes ("I think they're all right, 
don't you?"), the love of a dog ("Well, 
he’s almost like human"), and ап occa- 
ional audition (“But there are some 
things I won't do even to get on Broad- 
way"). As she confided to Peter, she had 
ready suffered from one important ro- 
mance, with a man named Mr. Marvin 
Magleberg, one of our foremost com- 
posers of Country and Western. Не 


КЕ 
word for 
па she 


of a Country and Western recording 
company in Nashville, Tennessee, where, 
it turned out, he d a wife. Irma 
left him almost cly upon dis- 
covering his guilty secret, She only 
ted umil she had removed her Бе 
ngs from his apartment and they 
al for which he 


lon 
had gone to see a m 
had written away for tickets in advance. 


' asked. Peter. 


From her blush, he understood that 
v only seemed like a delay. In 
spirit she had withdrawn her allegiance 
weeks before. As a matter of fact, she 
had given Marvin no joy from that day 
forward (the day on which she had gone 
through his pockets and discovered the 
letter, onward), except perhaps the pleas- 
ure of being seen with her in orchestra 
seats. And afterward, while he watched 
her white and angry litle face on his 
pillow in the ghostly dark, her stemlike, 
firm-rumped body huddled away from 
him, the bud closed to him, he must 
have regretted his duplicity, don't you 
think? 

Peter did indeed think. 

But enough of Inma’s past. It was her 
innocence and hope that captivated 
Peter, not her stupidity; for he too had 
suffered for love of a married person, 
and felt as if he had been used as the 


respondent in one of those Personals 
advertisements: SEEK LONELY MAN FREE 
SATURDAY MORNINGS AND WEDNESDAY 


AFTERNOONS. Ah, but Irma was free and 
with him always. They would do the 
Times crossword puzzle on Sunday after- 
neons because they had already done 
everything clse they wanted to do. Апа 
Irma thought words are so educational, 
don't you think? Peter did th 
they would grow fat and amiable to- 
gether, and then go on a diet together, 
slimming amiably. Health foods are so 
good for one, don’t you think? Peter did 
so think. Who knows? They might even 
marry. Peter considered this seriously, 
without even being asked if he thought. 
They would marry, later. At his age, 
with а bald spot the size of a quarter on 
his scalp, it would soon be time, Soon, 
sturdy 
grain of stupidity is healthy in a wife. 
They went to museums, and ate in 
museum cafeterias, and while they re- 


scinated. “How much 
can you make per annum?" she asked. 

They went to theaters, mostly musi 
cals, because Irma. was not working now 
nd she wanted to n sure 1 the 
ploved dancers had been hired by 
mistake or by erotic influence. She was 
better than all of them. She had tei 
dencies to paranoia — she believed that 
dancers sometimes used their bodies off- 
sting di 
to st 


é 


stage in order to influence 
rectors. 


"Hmm, a tendency 
Peter informed her. 

's not the same as paranoia, €x- 
cept in New York," she observed, switch- 
g her rump, and Peter decided that 
be contact with him was making 
her witty. "No," she replied, "that's con- 
tact with Life makes me humorous, 
sense of humor. But you're interruptin, 
Peter. I was saying. Ever since I finished 
my analysis and entered like Real Life, 
Ive always known that realism and 


k 


t the same, but they're 
t you think?” 

I wish you wouldn't always say don't- 
you-think," he said. 

“I think that’s an effort to reassure 
myself that you're. emotionally in tune 
with me, don't you, Peter? 

He did. 

Changing the subject, maybe, Irma 
informed him that a man of his abil- 
ties should bc good for thirty-forty 
thousand by the time he was forty or 
dded thoughtfully: “Per an 
аз one of her favorite learned 
phrases. Like Shakespeare. she was gifted 
in little latinities. She ducked her head, 
twisted, showed him her back in the 
litle gesture. 

They went to tearooms and coflec- 
houscs. They went to espresso shops 
where the floorshow consisted of poctry 
read to jazz, and to smaller places with 
ег cups, where the floorshow con- 
sisted of interracial chessplaying. and 
to Cappuccino specialty places with full- 
sized cups where the floorshow was just 
each other, themselves, Peter and Irma 
cinnamon and hot milk, éxploring the 
lovers’ world of mute satisfaction, don't 
you think? And then, of course, less 
mutely, they went to bed. She had a 
small head and large muscular hips 
Afterward Irma liked to talk about ir 
She felt that mature discussion domesti- 
cated а confusing violation of her body 
It's more а spiritual than a physical 
tion, or should be, don't you know? She 
liked to wonder about how many 
they would perform this action per an- 
num, and figuring on the average of 
their first month together, she tored up 
an impressive figure, onc hell of a lot 
of spiritual actions. “Considering your 
age," she prodded hopefully. “After all 
according to Kinsey, a man's best age 


he interrupted, “but that’s 
n is a man. And it's quality 


before a n 
that counts.” 


It was a fine, spiritual distinction. 
Irma brooded prettily over it. She also 
watched his diet and urged him to learn 
to love spices, as she did. She was notic 
s that the spiritual average of their 
first month had dropped slightly by 
their fourth They knew each 
other well, but she wondered if perhaps 
Peter would never plunge into her deep: 
est depths of feeling and know her very 
well. "It takes am effort," she told him. 
"I come from a repressed background 
during my first, or formative 
it’s hard to break throug 
you daddy was a stick! Ple 

He tricd. 

Afterward she did an exercise at the 
window, stretching he nd tensing 
her buttocks, belly in, flexing below, 
her back to him — good for the muscles. 
“Ooh, the air is nice,” she said to the 
open window. (continued overleaf) 


month 


s and 
T tell 
e try, Petey.” 


arms 


“Before I was married, I used to get into all kinds of scrapes . . . 
Come to think of it, that’s how I happened to get married . . ." 


PLAYBOY 


100 


He tried and tried again. 

Placidly Irma accepted his bids to un- 
cover her repressions and placidly she 
rehearsed all the required responses, did 
all the exercises, but placidly she dis- 
covered that she still felt herself a 
stranger to the swirling maclstrom of 
passion. "Ooh, you're like a beast," she 
said, "and I like ii 

But. But she d 


dn't like it as much as, 
she understood on good authority, she 
was supposed to. She pouted and hoped 
that this sort of thing (you know) didn't 
make a girl, like, spread. Peter pointed 
out that no, she shouldn’t worry, in a 
y it was a kind of exercise. She wor- 
ried. A dancer can't just exercise like 
any old muscles. She has got to be cre- 
ative all the time. 

Then a new outlet for creative cx- 
pression of feeling occurred to Irma: 
another m nd Peter's jealousy. “То- 
morrow.” she informed him, running her 
fi ck and forth over his pot, 
с tomorrow night, that is, ГЇЇ be 
busy. Freddie. He asked me like ages 
ago. You don’t really mind, do you?” 

To tell the truth, he didn't. At least 
not until he thought about it, and then 
no more than duty required. Alas, poor 
Irma, he like knew her well. He wanted 
a space of peace, recuperation, and read- 
ing, and he liked to stroll alone on the 
streets of a quict evening. And so he 
didn’t mind until the third or fourth 
time, and a certain special abstraction 
which he found in the center of Irma’s 
customary talkative abstraction — a hard 
kernel of genuine hooky. 

“What is it?” he asked her after a few 
weeks of this (sick headaches, cou 
from out of town, unexpected yawning). 

In a wee voice she answered, “Some- 
body else." She let this sink in. “But I 
can't decide between you, He isn't as— 
I don't know, you have so many good 
tics, Petey. You're so nice." 

* (Iec.) 

- Gosh, I feel terrible about 
the whole lousy mess, Petey. It lacks dig- 
nity like.” 

Peter knew what was expected of him. 
tears, sweaty protests, mussing, 
desperate lovemaking. Forgiveness, vio- 
lation of her body in order to possess 
it, more tears, promises, oaths. Sickness, 
fury and despair. Instead he declared, 
Let me help you decide." Rapidly he 
summed up the arguments on both sides, 
and then crisply counseled her: "Pick 
him. 

"Ooh, Peter, why?” 

“Take my advice.” He gathered up 
his h Mrs. Warden's friend's umbrell 
and a pair of pajamas he had left on a 
hook in her bathroom. Irma watched 
him with half a fist in her mouth. He 
started to the door. She was wearing her 
most fetching bedtime shortie, one of 
his Ivy shirts, the buttons. the collar 
of which sometimes caught against the 
lace edging of her pillow when he 


turned her over. Below her long grace- 
ful dancer’s neck, the costume was held 
out by petite but genuine Irma, and 
then dipped in a free fall to just above 
her dimpled knees. Yes, there were real 
dimples, and when she crooked her 
knees, they dimpled at him. What is 
cute? Irma із cute. Sadly she followed 
him to the door, laned against the 
wall in the hallway, took her fist all the 
way out of her mouth, and said reproach- 
fully, in a low voice: “Peter.” 

He was human. The soft sot 
soft her caused him to turn ba 
willing. 

“I care for you a lot,” she said. “But 
a girl needs security, don’t you think? 
gentleman does not close the door 
on a pair of dimpled knees while the 
mouth three and a half feet above is 
ng. Perhaps she could say some- 
thing impor! 
dom of her dimples and her analysis, her 
firm embrace and her slow, switching 
amble. 

"You never made me feel secure, 
Peter," she was saying. “I met this nice 
fellow 1 was telling you about, I really 
mean it, he is nice, one of the nicest I've 
met this annum, and he knew all about 
you —you know, I mean he could like 
guess — but he just cares for me so much, 
don't you think that 


movi 


nt. She might have the wi 


The door closed as if someone else 
had slammed it. He was standing, look 
ing at the door, and then he was rapidly 

If she had run to his arms, 
nt flesh speak, and not 
num,” his whole life 


walking 
letting the eloqu 
said the word 


тісім have been different. As it was, 
walking and walking, slowing down, 
suolling, peering into the darkened 


windows of a discount store on Broad- 
way, he felt that his education in the 
vessels of love was now complete. He 
could see nothing more to learn. He be- 
lieved in health, geuing his rest, and 
keeping up with the world. He took a 
merely social interest іп drin! 
night he wanted no sociability. There- 
fore he bought the early edition of the 
Times, had nes іп a cafe- 
teria, and went to bed. 

Exhausted and replete, he was tempted 
into a long period of continence, during 
which time he discovered that the war- 
rants of а small electronics company in 
Cleveland had hidden values in а scan- 
ning de bout to be brought out of 
the laboratory stage. He put a few thou- 
sand dollars in it and made a paper profit 
of twenty thousand in less than six 
months, without ever growing conceited. 
Не decided to hold the stock for six 
months for the capital gains benefit; it 
slumped badly when IBM came up with 
a radical new method of performing the 
same operation; he ended the roller- 
coaster ride where he had begun. He felt 
neither shame nor regret; his company's 
fortunes obeyed scientific events over 


which he had no control. But the gan- 
bler's excitement kept his evenings busy 
with vaguely sensuous reveries, dreams of 
luxury and power, a persistent fantasy 
of a Eurasian mistress (he had never 
known a Eurasian woman). The Captain 
of Finance slept alone on Riverside 
Drive, but talked United Artists Hindu- 
stani in his sleep. (“Ме stunning girl 
in sari, You mighty Captain of Finance. 
Us make amour in stereo together.") He 
did not regret Elsie, Inga and Irm. 
His Eurasian charmer evaporated in the 
heat of the alarm clock. He had now 
cut both his losses and his gains. 

All this could make him smile while 
reading his Herald Tribune at break- 
fast, and the days were full of gestures 
and amusements, but sometimes Peter 
awoke at dawn with a vacant nightmare 
anxiety, and he was holding his breath, 

ing, coughing, fighting his way out 
of sleep, with the hot sheet entangled 
about his body: They аге pushing me 
around! But then, as he heard the com- 
forting hum of the electric clock and 
spied the rich gleam of his shoes in the 
litde light off the street, he came back 
from the frights of sleep and realized 
that he had chosen his women. He had 
gone from one to the next in search of 
the perfection he defined for himself — 
gaiety, wit, grace, and the desire to 
please. And so tomorrow— Marijane or 
Rita or Julia. Be still, angry heart 

But tomorrow he knew that he had 
learned his lesson. He did not try. Не 
would make do with his patience, with. 
his Hollywood dream. He wore his body 
down to accepting sleep by spending 
the evenings at pulleys and bar bells in 
the Luxor Health Club, on West 46th 
Street, opposite the High School of Per- 
forming Arts, where delicious, milky 
young girls, with deep smudges of eye 
shadow and brilliantly capped teeth, 
loitered in cashmere sweaters with text- 
books on American History and the 
Stanislavsky Method under their arms. 
Their arms were slender but their bodies 
were full; they laughed richly together, 
exchanging the complex wisdom of their 

i with men who arc casting 
hd men who are agents; and. 
then they went in to read about Senator 
McCarthy in Civics 3. They were gone 
when he emerged at the Luxor's closing 
time, exercised, steamed clean, exhausted. 
Head down, he lunged into the strect 
and claimed a 

A few months later came the great dis- 
aster of his life: her name was Patricia. 
Those others had confirmed him in a 
sour self-concern because they were 
sourly selfconcerned and could not 
touch him. But Patricia, she was fresh, 
bright, tender, and, incredibly, she loved 
him. It was as simple as that. She quicted 
his sarcasms; she stilled his angry night- 
time heart. She had turally 
tionate nature as some girls have a natur- 
ally graceful sway to their walk. She had 


asi 


responded to the sac within him 
with a fierce de 
(perhaps thi 
flaw, 100); she bi 
could penetrate his abstract, starr! 
dr brave, she м 
foolhardy): 
ice skate again, and to kiss in doory 
nd to have private jokes: and yet she 
not a wreck of candybox femin: 
—she was a beautiful exception to all 
the rules. 

Patricia remembered. P 
childhood in ©: 
ighter of a ret 
aressman. the occupati, 
she had given air to hi 

nderstood from the age of 
gaicty kept her fath 
ad lived in a gabled Vict 
which was now a boardinghouse dur- 
ing the season, a oleum with 
spittoons on the porches; it had gone to 
ра 
during the fi 
This shy child. 
turely burdened, brave with death-dely- 
ing hope and explanations of senility — 
nd yet nothing but a silk 
child — had. thought Peter grand, from 
tmas vacation from 
Princeton. lt was a matter of an cight 
foot searl worn a tweed 


ter from her 
The old-age 
nd forgotten Gon- 
п of his oblivion, 
ist years and 


h 


п mansion 


the old ma and his nui 


п the snow ovel 


nd thick blond hair like a Norse 
god's and the snow crackling when he 
walked. 

Ha!” Peter commented on her reve- 
lation, “I was more a sophomore than 


а god. And dry snow crackles when a 
Princeton mortal walks, too. What they 
t think of in j high school.” 

= had remembered him with breath 
less hope, and then he picked her out 
by fairy-tale luck, ten years later, on a 
winter weekend. in the town where they 
had both grown up. Did their love 
? It sprang тіре from their 
ped without spoiling from upst 
New York on vacation to workaday М 


old fash 
nd oval checks, and 
ght hair—she toured the city 
nd they explored each oth 


wai 
she sobbed with fe; 
said. 7 
n 


they made love, 

1 desire, but 

о, no, no, it's all right, no, no, 
Oh 1 won't say it — '* 


"Oh Т love you 

And he found his own throat broken 
by dry sobs. And she took this for 
ower. Perhaps it was, at that mom 
even for him. 

But sex is not love, thor 
seem to be for a time id can se to 
be for an evening or many evenings: 
but there are also long days and week- 
ends and evenings when sex is only the 
map to love, not love itself, and a couple 


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101 


PLAYBOY 


102 


must look up from the map to find the 
land and the sky above. The pointing 
finger is not the star, amd even that 
ht point of light a million 
ay is not the star — for its own. 
the star needs a ci 
its location in the 

And tenderness, 


miles 


br 


respect, gratitude, 
hope and desire are not love, either, 
though they often can seem to be. There 
were long evenings when Peter wanted 
to know why he was a salesman of 
stocks, bonds, warrants, and put and call 
options. And why there was not some- 
thing better to do with his clever head 
ic heart. And why love 
all the things which a man 
wanting to do when he puts 
ir near the window, feet on 
the sill, and looks out over that little 
stretch of green, interrupted. by hum- 
roadway, which runs down to the 
Hudson River. 

Before falling in love, Peter h: 
ined that love could fill the barren Feb- 
ruary trees with leaves, twigs and ripe 
fruit. Now he found that love was merely 
love, and mere love slipped gravely 
away, like desire, like youth, like the 
hope of a future of effort and achieve: 
ment. This, he decided, at the age when 
his friends were going through their 
first divorces, is how marriage becomes 
а . They 


begin with both love and 


of their lives; ma 
ир, 


riage does not make 
and love withers; and thus the 
es of the happy hearth, upon which 
ge themselves for all their dis- 
ntments in work, in the world, in 
се. He had it all figured out, 
bstained. 

But in the meantime, there were pleas- 
ures with Patricia: kitchen pleasures of 
good 
coasti 
with half-understood 
contemplation of the renewable pleas- 
ures of bed. Naked and playful, they 
would go to the window together and 
watch the Spry sign flashing on the Pa 
sades across the river. Then Peter would 
пу to forget, as he squeezed shut his 
eyes and embraced. her, that she could 
invade but not come to rest in his hea 

Long before he decided Го 
would wait, he was саш 
understood that he was slipping 
But since she loved him, she could 
allow him to slip q 


ety away. This 
slender young girl from Saratoga, who 
had watched him in his red scarf, home 
from college for Christmas ten years 
had now discovered sex, and now she 
invented and reinvented sex, imagining 
from her paltry experience that sex was 
what a man wanted. She remembered 
girlish conversations and hints and ru- 
mors. She uied to be clever and fanci- 
ful, and for love, for the dream of ph 


“We can either blackmail him with it, or make up 
а couple of hundred prints and go into business.” 


g him, she discovered fanciful, clever, 
desperate variations of whatever sex they 
һай experienced together. True, this he 
mused Peter for a while. Who doesn't 
experi Even a dr 
an be shocked awake. This slender 
child did that? She looked sideways and 
calculated. so greedily? р 

Пу it wore him ош. He had 
his loins and he took to siy- 
No, honey, I'm sleepy." And he 
would doze with distant pity in his heart 
as he remembered the night before — 
g body, slippery with sweat, 
ng sleekness, her beautiful slender 
girlish body, and her eyes full of tears — 
her prayerful lips at his cheek: "You 
don't mind? You like this? You low 
me?” 


am-ridden. 


5 bored by her. 
be bothered. 

Peter wanted to be immortal, not 
merely subtly tickled, not 
twist against thighs and suckle a 
breasts and be eased and 1 


He did not want to 


dreamless sleep. Н ited to be no 
ished into dreams and reality — to make 
his mark, But love seemed to acate 


invisible, markless pleasure and nothing 
else. The body turned heavy and violent 
and flushed, and then slept, and then 
js the same body once more. There 
is Patricia, sweet as a child after her 
exertions. There was Peter, drilting olf. 
He looked at her and thought: No, she 
can't do it. 

And thought: No. I've got to get out. 

And thought: ГЇ do it myself. 

If he couldn't have everything, per- 
fect everything he wanted in life, then 
he could at least have nothing, perfect 

the spacious vacancy of 

Again he created his dream of 
quiet in his room on Riverside Drive: 
the office and quiet, home and quiet, 
view of the river and the day 
quietly by. He was tired. 

When at last she understood, she did 


his 


going 


not make a scene. It was as if her tears 
had been spent in effort and she had 
none to waste in regret. She did not 


curse him or berate him or reproach 
him, as some women do, but she did not 


wish him well, either. When he took 
her to the door of his apartment, she 
only looked into his eyes and said, 
“Ther e to 
forget.” 

“1 have good memories of you, Pattie.” 
he said, with the relieved immediate 
tenderness of farewell. Together they 


had admired a crumpled-paper pink 
flower abandoned by a flirt in Central 
Park, Afterward he had bought her a 
real flower; she had Kissed him openly, 
1 the daylight, on West 57th Sueet, un- 
bashed. 

"Some things,” she said soft! 
I didn't have to think of your 


ber 


ig) 


“I wish 


remem. 
Shamed.” 


Hc patted her on the shoulder. Per- 
haps she could remember his casual 
platitudinous joviality, not her intimate 
striving. "Don't worry," he said, "I rc- 
spect you." 

She smiled, and her turned. very 
bright. “Do you? ed. "Do you? 
Хай vou also respect yourself? Just wait- 


she 


ing like thaw” 

She tumed and her heels sounded 
down the hall and she was gone. She 
had applied her little female. pinprick 


after all. But he did not blame her. He 
went to bed. 

He ate, he slept, he worked, and the 
identical days filed by. Often now he 
dreamed and overslept the Re- 
peated, repeated, rememberi 
vexed him; he spent the nights escaping 
over roofs, sliding, scraping, slipping, 
escaping only because he was especially 
quick, like an ape, over chimneys and 
turrets and towers, but slow, danger- 
ously slow, crawling with torn fingers 
г the long treacherous stretches of 
loose slate; and the tireless enemy pur- 
sued him. “Oh no! Oh no!” he gr 
abutment to scramble over 
just before he was touched, before the 
pursuing soft paws touched him, And 
sat up shocked awake. He welcomed the 
day and thought: Г can still run! He ran 
10 money and he ran to the Luxor Baths 
and he ran to his pure station in space. 
Despite his dream, he was making him- 


ovt 


са, 


aking: and not through the 
ion of love but the reality of ab- 
stention: and he was stern and smiling 
at his office, rigorous in his routines and 
casy after five, agile on his feet, the 
flesh of a thirty-threeyearold coll 
tennis player, now on his way with an 
altered metabolism, reluctant to rush 
the net, licked into shape by exercise, 
diet and steam. He came home ex- 
hausted and fell into bed and thought 
he would not have the dream that night. 
Inevitably, however, on one late alte 


noon in his office at 110 Wall Street, 
he felt the armor of blessed fatigue sud- 
denly lilt from his body he sat at 


d with this lifting of weight, he 
welcomed back the jitters, the shakes, 
the horrors, desire — the soul's Joneli 
ness and the body's clamoring. An ant 
heap city, making its obscure hive noise, 
being sifted, fed, built, destroyed 
and rebuilt all about him: he had no 
comfort or extension in it, and felt Тік 
an ant separated from his kind by the 
gift of consciousness, but punished for 
his isolation by havi 
purpose. There is no place 
for the ant who abruptly decides th 
he would like to reconsider суету 
ader the sun. Like a lost ant, he ran 
to and fro in his office. His secreta 
came in to ask if he were missing some: 
thing. "Yes, just a thingamajig.” Yes, 
just something. He smiled at her, be- 


no n 


cause he was no ant; and she smiled 
back, because he was her boss and had 
smiled at her. He sent her back to her 
cubicle. 

Now he had no more doubts. Even the 
plest perfection requires compromise. 
He went home early, shook off his hot 
clothes, sat down naked at his desk, and 


Please take me back. 
rms. Peter. 

That would settle Saturday afternoon 
for him. The evenings and the long 
nights he would live through somehow. 
By this time next annum, the bald spot 
on his crown would be the size of 
waxy silver dol nd he could predict 
its rate of progress as he could. predict 
most of his future. 

Bur if Sarah did not remember him. 
well enough to reply to his note? If she 
had made other arrangements? He pr 
dicted no excess of humiliation for h 
self, He might almost be relieved. There 
even simpler arrangements with 
which he could make do until time re- 
lieved him of the only means he had 
found to share in human life. As he sat 
there, the letter folded in its envelope 
and the air conditioner blowing on his 
ked body, he thought of Sarah, he 
thought of Patricia; he felt his sex with 
his hand and found it ст 
the thought of sacrifice. 


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PLAYBOY 


104 


KILLER ІН THE TV SET 


relation to my size or my weak wrists 
and abdomen. I'm just z l'm mad 
m Im suddenly articu- 
c, fear no one and can get people. 
I don't care where you are. You've just 
come in here and done this to me and I 
swear I'll get you and I know J can do 
it because there are no obstacles when 1 
feel this way. 

ilm down,” s 
a cigarette. "] 
admit I'm а 
doesn't affect 


litle 
nything. I'm in a studio 
all right, but it's cleverly disguised and 
no one in the world would guess where 
we're set up. So all the anger in the 
world isn't going to change anything, 
Just calm down awhile and you'll see 
what I mean, Sing, Connie.” 

The hard-faced singer came out as а 


college coed in sweater and skirt. She 
pawed naively at the ground, waiting for 
the lift music and Mr. Ordz shouted, 


"And I don't want to hear her ейһе 

“Who told you id the m.c., rising 
с. “That's more work for me. 
ер nned secret in tele- 
ion. АП right. I suppose you know 
you can have three alternates. The El- 
baya flamenco dancers, Orson's Juggling 
Giants or Alonzo's Acobatorama. 

“TIL take the Acrobatoi said Mr. 
Ordz, shaking his fist at the set agai 
“But it doesn't mean I'm. going along 
with y of this or that I don't want to 
get you just as bad as ever. I just like 
acrobats, that's all, and never miss a 
chance to see them. Then I'm going to 
watch your damned news and I'm going 
to bed." Mr. Ordz settled back to watch 
the acrobats who did several encores. 

The mc. came on again. He had 
changed his Halloween costume to a 
dinner jacket and he was puffing away 
t a cigarette. “All right, I'm going to go 
right into the news tonight. I am a little 
tled and. there's по point denying 
Do you think that this is what I wanted 
to be doing this week? 1 just want to 
get my damned sponsor and get out of 
‘That's all for tonight and here 
. I like you morc 
ht I would and I got them 
to allow some sports. It’s about а carloa 
of pro football players that overtu 
New Mexico, but it's sports i 
The following day Mr. Ordz went to 
his doctor about a pain in his belly. 
Ws either real or imagined,” he said 
to the doctor. 

“Сап you 
doctor. 

“It's sort of red with ¢ 


ma 


cover 


describe it" asked the 


ay edges and 


bly go away," said thc 
doctor. turns blue let me know 
nd we'll take it from there. 
Are you kidding me?" asked Mr. 
Ordz 

"I'm a doctor; 


aid the doctor. 


(continued from page 68) 


Mr. Ordz stayed in town that night to 
see a foreign film about a tempestuous 
goat farm. When it was over he went 
down into the lounge. He was all alone 
and the TV set was on. His m.c. was 
dressed like the La Strada carnival man. 
pected this," si the m.c. "The 
research showed you have to peck under 
bandages. If a doctor said, "Your life de- 
pends on it,’ you'd have to sneak a peck 
у о I knew you'd stay away from 
your set tonight, but I also knew you'd 
have to peck at some set. Whoever 
knocked r rch is crazy. Now look, 
forget last night when I said I was rat- 
tled. I know one thing. I've got to have 

sponsor or I go nowhere. If I could 
reach out there and. personally slit your 
gizzard Га do it without batting an eye- 
Tash. As it is, ГЇЇ just have to torment 
your tail until you go by yourself. In- 
cidentally, I can tell you the detail 
Research said you'd be here tonight, so 
by some finagling around I was able to 
get on much earlier, almost prime time. 
You can pick up the disaster flashes 
when you get home at two. Here's your 
Acrobatorama and if anyone comes in 
while we're on, we turn into a trusted, 
miliar network giveaway show. 
When Alonzo's men had taken their 
third спсо Mr. Ordz took the train 
home and rode between the cars. At one 
point, he dipped his foot way down out- 
side the car giddily, but then retrieved 
it and rode home for the two o'clock 
disasters. 

The following night, Friday, Mrs. Ordz 
joined Mr. Ordz on the television chaise 
and showered him with love bites on the 
nose. “I'll erupt,” she said, her matronly 
bosom heaving with tension. "I warn 
you ГЇЇ erupt right down here and we 
don't have a door shutter." 

“Hold off," said Mr. Ога» 


"I don't 


tell you things, but I've got to tell you 
this thing.” He told her the Story of the 
secret channel and the m.c’s threats, 
but her lids were closed and she whis- 
pered, “You're speaking words, but I 
hear only hoarse animal sounds. ic 
me boobsie, tame me, or ГЇЇ erupt before 
the world." 

“1 can't get through to anyone because 
I'm too nervous to say what I mean," 
said Mr. Ordz. "If I get angry enough, 
if only I can get angry enough, everyone. 

hcar me loud and clear. 

Wild,” she said through clenched 
teeth. “You're wild as the wind 

"I wish you would hold off," said Mr. 
Ordz, but his wife would not be shunted 
aside and he finally carried her stocky 
body upstairs, getting back downstairs 
at two-thirty л.м. The hard-faced female 
singer said, "He told me to tell you that 
he had a cold but that he'd be hack to- 
it killed him. I don't 
know his name cither, Hc said he didn't 
have time to line up a replacement and 
that you should just go to bed, unless 
you want to hear me sing." 

No, l Mr. Ordz. “I don't care 
what you do. I'm not going along with 
this. Í just want to see how far the 
whole thing carries 

“Оһ, that's right, you're the one who 
wanted acrobats, Do you think Га do 
this crummy show if I had somed 
else? But I figure one exposure is better 
than none and you might һауе some 
connections. 1 also do figure modeling. 
We're skipping the news tonight. Since 
you don't want me to warble a few, I 
have a modeling date tonight. 1 only do 
work for legit photog 

In the morning, Mr. Ordz called іп 
his secret and said, "It's in defense 
bonds, savings stamps amd cash, but it 
works out to six thousand dollars and I 
want my wife to get i 

‘So just give it to her then. 
girl. “T don't know what you mean 

“I want you to know that it's for her 
if something happens to me." 

“Don't vou feel well, Mr. Ordz?" asked 
the girl. “You're supposed to put that 
in a will and it doesn't mean anything 
if you just tell it to a person.” 

“I'm not bothering around with any 
wills. I told it to you and you know it 


said thc 


and that’s all.” 

“But I can't enforce апу said 
the girl. 

“Don't argue with me. You just know." 


The mc. was wearing an interns 
costume when the show came on much 


à pip all right. I used to get one a winter 
and 1 guess 1 still get them. All right 
then, now that it’s come down to thc 
wire Га be teasing if 1 didn't admit it 
has crossed my t your heart 
might not stop and here I'd be without 
rch did tell me about 
nd of 


a sponsor. R 
the pain in the belly though, 
course that did relax me. You're on your 


way. I get your life to 
look, this is the equivalent of your smok- 
ing a last cigarette. You're sick of me, 
Tm sick of you. If you go upstairs right 
this second and drink a bottle of iodine, 
the deal is you don’t have to sit through 
the whole damned show. Fair enough?" d 

Mr. Ordz dropped his cheesettes and 
said, “So help me God I'm getting mad.” 
And believe me,” said the m.c., “the 
show stinks tonight. I do a whole series 
of morbid parodies of songs, real bad 
ones like Ghoul That I Am, and we've 
got a full hour of on-thespot coverage 
of a children's school bus combination 
fire and explosion. Go upstairs, get your- 
self a regimental t'* or two . . ." 
lm getting to the crazy point where 
1 can spit in death’s eye,” said Mr. Ordz, 
rising [rom his chaise. 

^... Rig them up noosestyle to the 
shower nozzle, your head in there 
snugly and we'll all go home early.” 

ГЇЇ get you, And 
with that he smashed his hand through 
the television screen, obliterating the 
picture and opening something stringy 
in his wrist. Blood spurted out across 
Mr. Ordz six volumes of Churchill's war 
memoirs, sprinkling The Gathering 
Storm and completely drenching Their 
Finest Hour. Mr. Ordz studied his wrist 
and, until he began to feel faint, poked 
at it, watching it pour forth with re- 
newed frenzy at each of the pokes. On 


hends and knees then, he went up to 
his sleeping wife and clutched at her 
nightgown. “I erupt, I erupt,” she si 

a stupor, and then opened her eyes. 
" she said, "are they open at the 
hospital?" She got on a robe, and by this 
ime Mr. Ordz had lost consciousness. 
ed Mrs. Отаг nightgown as 
up im her 
stocky arms and said, "God forgive тас, 
but even this is ses She got him into 
the car, relieved to see some twitching 
going on in his neck, and at the hos- 
pital a young doctor said, "Get him right 
in here. I've treated bee bites before. 
Oh, isn't he the bee-bite man?” 

Mrs. Ordz said, “I could just give in- 
terns a good pinch. Thats how cute 
they are to me. 

The doctor finally got a tourniquet 
and bandage оп Mr. Ordz, who mi 
lously regained consciousness for a brief 
moment and peeked quickly under the 
bandage. “There are still people І have 
to get,” he said. But then a final jet of 
blood whooshed forward onto the hos- 
pital linoleum and then Mr. Ordz closed 
his eyes and said no moi 

Wh n to sce again, people 
were patting lotions on his face. "You're 
getting me ready for a pine box,” he 
id, but there was no reply. More solu- 
s were patted on his face. He was 
helped into a tuxedo and then lugged 
somewhere. 


Out of the corner of his eye he saw 
his m.c. and two distinguished executive- 
type gentlemen soar out of the top of 
the building or enclosure he was in. The 
executives were holding the m.c. by the 
elbows and all three had sprouted wings. 
Then Mr. Ordz was shoved forward. 
Hot lights were brought down close to 
his face and cameras began to whir. A 
giant card with large words on it was 
lowered before his eyes and one of the 
lotion people said, "Smile at all times. 


"I don’t want to," Mr. Ordz, 
nd Fm getting angry enough to spit 
їп all your eyes, even if Tam dead.” But 
no sound came from his mouth. ‘The 
lights got hotter. ‘Then he looked at the 
card, felt his mouth force into 
cere smile and heard himself saying to a 
strange man who sat opposite him in a 
kind of living room, munching on some 
slices of protein bread, “All right now, 
Simons, I've got exactly one week to 
Kill you. And I'm not using entertain- 
ment talk or anything. I really mean 
take your life, stop you from breathing. 
‘There's nothing personal about all this. 
Hs just that I've got to get a sponsor. 
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PLAYBOY 


106 


girls or hawaii (continued from page 56) 


lanai does w of the glittering 
harbor —over the TV aerial of her 
nextdoor neighbor. By taking on an easy 
derking job at a downtown bookstore 
(best seller: Michener's Hawai 
modeling touristy beacliw 
hotel fashion shows on the side, she man- 
ages to swing not only the rent, but the 
payments on a second-hand sports car, 
which she soon learns facilitates not only 
getting around but making friends. 
Occasionally, on the beach or at work, 
she will allow herself to be picked up 
by a sufficiently tourist — pro- 
vided he avoids the newcomer's tempta- 
tion to make bad puns about leis. If 
she lacks access to an authentic native 
hukilau (beachside fish fry), she is usu- 
ally Island-hip enough to suggest they 
stop in at Honolulu's number-one gour- 
met gathering place: Canlis’ Broiler, the 
only outpost on Waikiki where, as a 
determined antitourist, she feels really 
at ease. Afterward, she'll take him on а 
leisurely crawl through the better Hono- 
lulu pubs, winding up at some friend's 
house party, where the spirits of fellow- 
ship will flow more ine: ustibly even 
than at a similar soiree in New York or 
Los Angeles. When the revelry peters out, 
she'll take her escort home for ight- 
p. an album of Alfred Apaka (the 
Sinatra of the Islands) and perhaps а 


and life — she may invite her compan- 
ion to tarry with her overnight — for the 
simple reason that she likes him. And 
when his sojoum is at an end, she will 
have learned to greet it with an equa- 
nimity approaching that of the existen- 
tial native girl: everhopeful, tender to 
the last, unpossessively content with the 
pleasures of the here and now, in a land 
enchantingly anchored in both. 

But the enticement of the Islands is 


feminine fauna, indigenou 
planted. To thousands of 


malihinis, 
pouring through Honolulu in an end- 


i offers 
e. They 
but. 


les gi " m, H 
blandishments no less seduc 
savor its fragrance only Пее 
these omnipresent, ever-c 
sients are as intrinsic to the fiftieth state. 
is its winsome natives. There are so 
many of them (especially during the 
heavy holiday season from June through 
August) that the male visitor, from his 
shaded deck chair on the terrace 
of the beachside hotels, сап bc- 
Imost unbroken visi 
ed epidermis, ranging in shade from 
inland-pink to burnished mahogany. 
stretching from horizon to horizon. 

panoramic perch, the trav- 
cler has but to single out an unusually 
lovely naiad, then thread his мау 
through the towels to proller a strong 
male апи as she wgs her rented surf 
board into the briny. Almost any open- 


“My God, it's Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians!” 


a of suntan- + 


ing gambit will suffice — even the lei 
routine, in some cases; for if this army 
of tanning transients has anything in 
common, it is a uniform susceptibility to 
the seductive, somewhat schmaltzy spell 
of ukuleles, silvery moonlight, tropical 
flowers and hundred-proof rum. The ali- 
mony-funded Park Avenue divorcees; the 
L.A. secretaries оп two-weeks-with-play, 
the over-twenty-cig] i gi 
single girls who've dipped into savings 
for a last fling; the fly-now-pay-later 
ladies with box cameras and stilled libi- 
dos; the well-fixed, wi ed society 
chicks slumming on the wrong side ol 
the ocean; the jecpropelled airlines 
stewardesses on three-day stopovers; the 
mainland coeds who've come to the Uni 
ii to sharpen their schol 
surfboarding and beach. 
ng — all have converged on this ani- 
mated archipelago with but one thought 
in mind: to take off their 1. Millers, ler 
down their Jackie Kennedy coiflures, and 
throw caution to the trade wind: 

Once a connection is made, the four 
(as Honolulu’s beach boys call her) 
customarily coaxes her escort to intro- 
duce her to the somewhat overnourish- 
ing cuisine and Dorothy Lamour decor 
of Waikiki’s assorted kaukau ра 
(restaurants) and thatch-roofed grog- 
shops. More often than not, by the eve- 
ning's end, the tippling touri is in such 
good э that the hoped-for invitation 
to her hotel room becomes an appcal 
dance to that destination. 

If she happens to prefer largo to 
allegro vivace as a holiday tempo, she 
bandon the saturnalian scene on 
Oahu for the more primeval beauty of 
neighboring Kauai, Maui, Molokai, Ha 
waii or Lanai. Whether island-hopping 
or making the scene in Honolulu, how. 
ever, the tourist girl pursues Hawaii's 
pleasures with a dedication matched only 
by the avid fun-seekers in such cement 
pleasure gardens as Las Vegas and Miami 
Beach. She has usually come to the fifti- 
eth state hoping for a kind of Walt 

y Polynesialand, full of picturesque 
асас flowers and realistically 
cers. Ш she has spent 
ng vacation on Oahu — whi 
outward appe; 
ppointed: for this ov 

needs 
nd ulti 
mately cherished. But if she has ventured 
to the other islands, where the true en 
chantment of Haw s closer to the sur- 
face. she will find that some uniquely 
evocative catalyst in their lambent and 
fragrant atmosphere has whetted her са 
city for living to a keener edge Шап 
she ever thought possible back on the 
land, only hours, but 
ny worlds, away. And she will leave 
with a sense of loss. 

For the white girl who lives in Hono- 
lulu, Hawaii i гу different. place. 


ed hula dai 


her Пее! 
has much of thi: 
she won't be dis 
crowded, overdeveloped island 
time to become known, valued 


i 
Unlike the touri, she came expecting to 
find an unspoiled island elysium, and was 


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quickly disenchanted — until she be, 
to fall into the quiet tempo which bı 
beneath the staccato rhythms of touri 
and to perceive the genuine warmth of 
the aloha spirit behind the seemingly 
empty travel-poster catch phrase. Every 
so often, of course, shell still get the 
fleeting feeling that she's out of the 
mainstream, that the big things are hap- 
pening in Paris and New York and the 
Riviera, that Honolulu, for all its glit- 
ter, is basically a pretty provincial town. 
Sometimes she'll find herself longing for 
the sting of autumn ай, the smell of 
burning maple leaves, the sight of a 
snow-lelted meadow: or simply to browse 
at Saks, sip a frozen daiquiri in the 
Pump Room, or dig a hip comic at the 
hungry i. But these moments of restless 


ness always pass; for she knows that a 
k back on the mainland would be all 
she could endure. Hoomanawanui is in 
her blood; she could never leave. 

Even less could the Island-born white 
girl be happy away from home, though 
she lives in a land where her family influ- 

nce is inexorably declining: where the 
untouched luxuriance of the paradise 
which her grandparents settled a сеп 
tury ago has been profoundly altered. by 
the impact of modernity. For she realizes 
that the shift in power and the changing 
face of the land are part of the irrevoca- 
ble tide of contemporary life. And she 
cannot help becoming infected with the 
sense of getitdoneyesterday vitality 
with which the land continues to 
The ingenuous essence which originally 
drew her family to the Islands, however 
unfamili ultimate façade, she 
knows, will never really disappear. 

‘The native girl basks serenely in the 
harmony with which Hawaii's num 
us races and nationalities share their 
close Island quarters. She realizes that 
the fiftieth state is still far from bei 
the arcadia so ad ateur soci 
ologists. But with all its shortcomings, 
she Hawaii is still the most 
laudable lab demonstration of int 
racial brotherhood witnessed in recent 
history. She accepts its inadequacies as 
she docs those of her own friends, calmly 
confident that time— in the gently drum- 
ming rhythms of this beneficent land — 
will eventually erase even the few re- 


w 


ow 


r its 


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to her. Hawaii — like island. 
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tion. those relaxed enough in 
temperament to succumb to its polyglot 
charms, it remains a sanctuary sans pa- 
тей. And the Hawaiian girl remains its 
most cloquent embodiment. 


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PLAYBOY 


108 


CLASSIC CARS (continued from page 58) 


to expand in the matter 
Duesenbergs were done 
ver and ebony. They were 
done in alligator and sandalwood, in 
patentleather and ivory. Sometimes the 
back seats were arranged as two ove! 
ufied chairs, covered in West of Eng- 
Тапа cloth and filled with down plucked 
from the breasts only of a fleet of geese. 
A good many bespoke coachmakers 
working on this side of the water stood 
ready to fit out Duesenberg chassis: Mur- 
phy, Rollston, Willoughby, Derham, 
LeBaron, Judkins, Weymann, Walker, 
Brunn, Holbrook. Of all these, only 
Derham is still іп business, but doing 
more modifications than — from-the- 
ground-up work. There are only three 
left of the great British firms, and two 
of thosc arc affliated with Rolls-Royce 
and thus busy. The first-line French and 
German houses are nearly all gone, and 
the Italians, now the world’s paramount 
achmakers, have so prospered working 
their own great designers, and mak- 
ing specimen cars for Detroit, that they 
do not want bespoke business, even at 
the prices they charge: say 540,000 for a 
completely executed body to an original 
design. Even the ой pashas of the 
Arabian peninsula blink a bit 
mates im that range. The golden days 
when one could have a body made to 
one's own design for not much more 
moncy, іп proportion, than the cost of 
a tailor-made over an oltthe-peg suit, 
are а long way behind us. 

Designers of the big classic motorcars 
kept the coachbuilders іп mind when 
they laid down their specifications: long 


means was like! 


in raw silk, 


wheelbases, heavy chassis, engines re- 
markably powerful for the time. The 
Marmon I6cylinder produced 900 


horsepower. It was intended as a riposte 
to the Cadillac V-16 and the Duesen- 
berg. It was a splendid automobile, and 
the 12-cylinder Marmon of 1931 was 
even better. 

An item cataloged by Messrs. Rolls- 
Royce as “Тһе 40-50 Н.Р. Continental 
Touring Saloon” was a kind of super 
Rolls-Royce, a Phantom Il model modi- 
fied to be faster than standard, and in 
other ways. The chassis was short, the 
stecring col and the spring- 
ing and shock-absorbing arrangements 
were made for fast touring over dul 
o ads. The Continental cost about 
519,250 іп 1933, with the standard four- 
passenger sedan body. 

Euore Bugatti of France clearly felt 
that he was approaching the ultimate in 
ntleman's carriage when he designed 
a coupe de ville, or town car, on his 
own Type 41 chasis. The Type 41 
Bugatti, one of the biggest automobiles 
ever built—its wheclbase cqualed a 
", and the s twice 

conccived 


as big as a Cadillac's — wa 
as transport eminently suitable for 


London bu: 


ine м 


kings. There is some reason to believe 
that M. Bugatti did, at the beginni 
consider actually restricting the sale of 
the model to kings. Не relented, and 
Types 41, or Royales, were made аха 
able to any ordinary tycoon who was 
willing to spend $20,000 for the chassis 


and half ay much more for the body — 
providing M. Bugatti approved of the 
man, (Legend insists he refused to sell 


a Royale to the late King Zog of Albania 
because he didn't like his manners.) 

Only seven Bugatti Royales were 
made. Two were coupes de ville, or 
coupes Napoleon, tiny but luxurious 
cabines for two passengers at one end, 
seven feet of bonnet ending in a silver 
rampant elephant radiator-mascot, at 
the other. The one M. Bugatti kept for 
his own use had the longest front mud- 
guards ever made. 

The market for $30,000 motorcars 
slackened, so Bugatti made a slightly 
smaller version of the Type 41, the Туре 
46, a standard big straight-cight-cylinder 
mobile. It offered useful scope to 
the coach lders of се (Bugatti 
himself liked the Type 46 so much that 
he kept it in production until World 
War II closed the factory), and so did 
the Type 50, a similar model carrying a 
more powerful engine. The Paris firm 
Millio jet built bodies for Types 46 
and 50 Bugattis that might have been 
called ménage à trois coupes: they carried 
three people, driver and one passenger 
in front, the other passenger sitting 
splendid vi 
out the slotlike rear window, and a bi 
triangular cushion on which to rest her 
feet. 

The Type 57SG Bugatti, the peak of 
the company’s seventy-odd models, the 
result of collaboration between Ettore 
and his son Jean, was put on the 
et toward the end of 1937. It pro- 
duced about 200 horsepow: d a top 
of 130 miles an hour—fabulous [or the 
time—and was remarkably secure and 
roadable at high speeds. The chassis in- 
vited low, lean coachwork. A 575С 
Bugatti was one of the Thirties’ most 
desirable possessions. 

Packard and Pierce-Arrow, who made 
such impressive limousin 
cars, didn't offer many coupes, but both 
built lovely victori nd convertible 
sedans on V-I2 chassis. So did соп, 
lso on а V-12 меге splendid 
big Lincoln double-cowl phaetons. 

The Pierce-Arrow Silver Arrow, alu- 
minum-bodied, was much in 


range of custom bodies, set out in 
catalog so lush that it cost the comp: 
$50 a copy to produce it. One of the 
phactons made by an Amcrican manu- 
facturer was a Packard, turned out in 
1939 for Franklin Roosevelt 
mored to be proof ag; 


and ar- 


to 50-caliber machine-gun fire. Its cost 
nchuriam war 


wasn't released, but a M: 
lord, Chang Tso-lin, paid $3 
armored Twin-Six sedan. 
Gabriel Voisin made а unique ap- 
proach to the 12-cylinder engine, unique 
in the precise meaning of the word: no- 
body else ever did what he did, which 
was to put 12 cylinders in lime іп а 
production car. (One 12 in-line Packard 
nto produc- 
engine was so long 


000 for an 


was built, but never put 


tion.) This double- 
that it protruded into the driver's com. 
partment, but the required length of 
hood enchanted the bodybuilders, and 
some noble carr aid down to 
advantage of it. Voisin made V-12s, 
too, and his Sirocco Sports sedan on t 
chassis, low, squared, flat-topped, knife 
edged, was a soaring expression of the 
squared olf style currently being talked 
of as nouvelle vague. 

Few now alive have ever seen a 
с more's the p 
Fi , but in the Thirties, too late іп 
the century. The pinch of depression 
was on the rich English, the malı 
the Rhineland steclmasters. French. ty 
coons were inclining to something com 
paratively unostentatious when their 
petites amies needed new cars. It was a 
time of stress, Even the Hungarians were 
slowed down, and mad young things in 
Budapest were saving, "Szeretmém ha 
megengedhetném magamnak hogy ugy 
éljek mint ahogy êlek" or, “If only we 
could afford to live the way we do!" 

ll the big Bucciali cars stunned the 
Paris Salon. The power plant was a V- 
16 of aluminum and it glistened under 
the lights, engine turned, like the inside 
of a cigarette case, everywhere. Even 
the blades of the fan were engine-turned. 
The Bucciali was very long indeed, and. 
very low, the biggest [rontvheeldrive 
motorcar ever built. There was nothing 
lithe or graceful about it, and опе 
viewer is supposed to haye said that it 
looked like bankevault on wheels,” 

Daimler of England made a V-12 
саг of the same genre: tremendously 
long bonnet, blind rearquarter coupe 
body, high wheels, а 150-inch wheelbase 
and the roof of the car just three feet, 
six inches from the ground! A good 
many Mercedes-Benz looked like that, 
too, built on the 540K 
straight-cight equipped with а 
mand” supercharger, one that cut 
out at the driver's whim, and blew, when 
it was blowing, through the carburetor, 
shrill zombie scream. The 540K 
ав heavy and there was nothing aston- 
ishing about its acceleration, but once 
under way it would cruise all day, solid 
s a battleship, in the 80s and 905, and 
it would do 106 mph with a little run- 
up. It had Ше edge, there, оп such 
American classics as the Cadillac V-16. 
most of which would not show 90 miles 
hour, or the famous first-mode] Cord, 
the L-29, which was reluctant to do 


chassi: 


much more than 75, for 


The V-16 Қ 
in price. and still it's doubtful 
General Motors ever made a dol 


profit оп one of them. The car was a 
pre For some, it was cven 
more of a status symbol, or a more 
factory one, than а Duesenberg: When 
one said Cadillac 16 one was offering an 
almost palpable rating; the owner of a 
V-16 clearly ranked a V-12 man. 

The Models 810 and 8 


rd — the 


t most beau 
ever built in America. The 
hundred. hand-built 
the 1935 Auto 
and the firm was out of business by 
The rarity of the car was early 
established: More than twenty of the 
first hundred handmades were stripped 
and burned immediately after the show, 
on the ground that the cost of finishing 
them would have been too great. The 
Cord looked as if it had been born on 
the road, one admirer said, and even 
today the entry list of almost every 
concours d'élégance held in this country 
will show one or more Cords looking as 
new as they did the day they left the 
showroom. 
Lincoln Continentals, among Ате 
cars, are so admired and carefully tended. 

The German firm of Maybach had 
made engines for the gr 
ships of World War I, and the 12-cyl- 
inder Maybach Zeppelin was another of 
the great massive car es of the 1930s, 
solid, beautifully made, comparatively 
rare, like the Horch. The Italian Isotta- 
Fraschini was another, and the Minerva 
of Belgium. A few years ago I saw a 
Minerva limousine so bi: 
doubled rear wheels, 
the jump seats, usually 


mobile 
was. sho : 
models were made for 


little 
things, were overstuffed club ch: 
There were smaller cars of the 


folding 


19305 
that wore a great air of chic: Delage, 
Delahaye, Talbot, Diuracq, Hotchkiss, 
Stutz, Lagonda (made in England and 
named after a river in Ohio), but they 
had already begun to move away from 
the lushness of the golden times toward 
simple utility. There are сиз being 
made today that are vastly superior in 
comfort and controllability to anythin; 
the 19305 the Rolls-Royce, the 
tal, the Mercedes- 
mple. The Jaguar 
300G, the Ferrari 
250 GT, ati 3500, the Aston 
Matin ОВА are all faster than anything 
made before World War IL. But no one 
of them, sh for all 


new Lincoln 
Benz 


its virtues, replace on 
high-riding gentlemen's carr 
three decades ago, stiffly эрги 
sure, a handful to ¢ 
nating still for what they were and for 
what they recall of the vanished age in 
which they moved 


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When the moment із magic... 
the champagne is 


PLAYBOY 


тм, trem | 


А. 


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(continued from page 57) 


savories can lighten and brighten almost 
any course in а hotmonth meal. In 
flavorful gels of genuine becf, chicken, 
and seafood stock, they triumpl 
ly appe: 


ic 
as both rich aspics and hardy 
Blended with heavy cream 
and sundry other components, unlla- 
in becomes a mousse. When 
ated with thick marshmallow, 
dark chocolate or fresh shredded coce 
hut, puréed with plump black raspber 
ries, apricots, strawberries or pineapple 
wedges, and laced with sherry, kirsch, 
madeira or 
lordly desserts in the storied dominion 
of haute cuisine. But the mousse achieves 
perhaps its most delectable destiny as а 
manly main course, 


consomm 


vored gel. 


amalgar 


m. it is one of the most 


| toothsome tan 
dem with such ingenuous ingredi 
lobster. crabmeat and chicken — 


nts as 


T 
lizingly represented among this month's 
recommended pièces de choix by 
Chicken Mousse with Pistachios. 
Mousse or vci ‚ fish or fowl. any 
icy entree will be incomplete without 
the catalyst of a suitable vintner's vin- 
tage. Asa rule, any wine compatible with 
а hot dish will be equally engaging 
with its summer counterpart, i.c. reds 
with meat, whites with seafood and poul- 
try, For the truly discriminating, frankly 
sensual summertime host, however, it 
should be mentioned that few marriages 
between food and drink are as headily 
happy as that of cold cuisine with onc 
of the lightly fruity German Rhine wines, 


moselles, or ebulliently full-bodied 
French burgundies. Op 


the 


of their “spritz” or pleasantly sharp 
youthfulness (two years is the perfect 
and chilled 10 a fine edge for а 
two hours, they are the undeniable ulti- 
mate in warm-weather wassail. 

Without further foreword, then, let 
us raise а toast to the gastronomic pl 
ures which await; for the iced meals 
cometh, 


as. 


corn STUFFED скав 
(Serves four) 

1 lb. fresh or canned crab meat 

12 cup mayonnaise 

up finely minced celery 

poon finely chopped chives or 

ions 


sca 
2 tablespoons finely minced green 
pepper 

1 teaspoon prepared mustard 

% teaspoon dry mustard 

|2 teaspoon Worcestershi 
1 tablespoon lemon juice 
Salt, pepper 

2 hard-boiled eggs 
Remove any pieces of shell or c 


^ sauce 


tilage 
from crab meat and break into small 


picces. Combine with mayonnaise, celery, 
chives, green pepper, prepared mustard, 
dry mustard, Worcestershire sauce, 
lemon juice, salt and. pepper, and pack. 
ihe mixture into four crab shells or 
coquille (scallop) shelis, Chop hard- 
boiled eges very fine, sprinkle over crab 
meat and chill in the refrigerator until 
icy cold. 


COLD SEA BASS IN RHINE WINE 
(Serves four) 

sea bass, 114 tbs. each 

ion, sliced 

whole carrots 

¢ small bay leal 

piece celery, sliced 

£ sprigs parsley 

¢ teaspoon dried 
crushed 

2 whole allspice 

Salt 

I cup diy Rh 


ә 
І 
1 
1 


hot red pepper, 


t and cut the sea bass into 


r to spl 
four boneless filets — and to give you the 
backbones, skin and tail. Back at 
the range, place these bits and pieces 
into а saucepan with the onion, carrots, 


bay leaf, celery. parsley, red pepper, ill- 


heads. 


spice, v, teaspoon salt and one quart 
water, Bring to a boil, reduce flame, 
simmer slowly for half an hour, aud then 
suain into a wide shallow saucep 


Fold under the nether end of each. filet 
and place them in saucepan with this 
liquid. Add wine, bring to boil. simmer 
five and the nfa to a 
shirred-egg dish or oval r in. Season 
the rem g liquid to taste, 
nd pour over the filets Arrange two 
carrot slices (retrieved [rom strainer) on 
cach filet. sprinkle with chives and chill 
in the refrigerator until liquid is gelled. 
Serve with horseradish dressing (12 cup 
mayonnaise, 1 tablespoon heavy cream 
and | tablespoon horseradish) amd a 
fresh cucumber salad. 


minutes, 


ng cooki 


COLD SMOKED PORK LOIN 
(Serves four) 


2 Ibs. smoked. pork loin 
Juice of 2 lemons 

14 cup brown su 
14 cup cold waters 


2 onions, sliced 


2 pieces celery, sliced 


green pepper, sliced 
10 teaspoon freshly ground black 
pepper 

(n procuring this hearty meat— 

known also as Canadian bacon “with 


the bone” — 


backbone 


sk th 
for ea 


butcher to split the 
sy carving.) 

Place lom in a shallow casserole or 
baking pan, add remaining ingredients 
and allow to marinate at least four to 
five hours, overnight if possible, turning 


meat occasioi 
preheated 375° oven with the marinade. 
Roast 114 hours, basting periodically in 
its own Juices and seasonings. Then chill 
the loin thoroughly, cut into chops and 
serve with fresh potato salad and cold 
red cabbage. 


ally. Duly steeped, place 


n 


CHICKEN MOUSSE WII PISTAC 
(Serves six) 


108 


2 whole breasts of chicken 

Y4 cup chicken broth 

1 envelope unflavored gelatin 
15 cup dry white wine 

1 

1 


cup mayonn 
t, pepper, nuty 

1 cup heavy cream 

14 cup shelled, peeled pistachios 

Boil chicken until tender, remove skin 
and bones, and dice m Bring 
chicken broth to a b 
flame, add 
wine —and stir well. Pour mixture into 
th 1 of an electric blender, add 
onion and mayonnaise, and blend at 
high speed for about half 
while adding chicken in small pieces 
until puréed. Then with salt, 
pepper and nuune to taste, and chill in 
a shallow bowl until gelatin begins to 
set — about 30 to 40 minutes. Beat cream 
until whipped, fold with pistachios into 
chilled mixture, turn into it six-cup ring 
mold (previously rinsed in cold water, 
but not dried), and chill in refrigerator 
When ready to serv 
knife along the inside rim of са 
dip the mold 
seconds and unmold 


latin — presoftened in the 


minute, 


season 


чо w 


m water for 
to a platter. Serve 


with cold asparagus vinaigrette. 


COLD. T OF BEEF 


(Serves six) 


PLATTER 


1 whole filet of beel 

Salad oil 

Salt, pepper 

Boston lettuce leaves 

2 Ayoz, jars artichoke he 

oil 

1 &oz tin cocktail mushrooms 

3 mediumsize fresh tomatoes 

(Filet of beef is the long cut fom 
which filet mignon is sliced. апа may 
have to be ordered a day or two ahead 
of time. In any case, ask the butcher to 
i surface. fat in order to а 
for maximum brownir fold 
under and tie the thin tail end.) Once 
nd trussed, place the filet 
shallow roasting 
with salad ой, sprinkl 
pepper, and roast 30 to 40 minutes in 
preheated 425° oven, 
move and cool to ture: 
then chill in the refrigerator. Carve into 


ts in olive 


remove low 


and to 


uimmed 


п, brush. 


slices about 4 inch thick, and arrange 
fanayise im center of a large platter. 
Wash and dry lettuce carefully, and 


we of the inner cup-shaped 
round t. Fill these ter- 
h chilled artichoke hearts and 
cut tomatoes into. wedges, 
and place between lettuce cups. Then 
nork a beaded 
Rhine wine. decant its crystalline. con 
tenis 4% 4 t 
e with sang-froid to the 
at hand 


me; 


ushiroon 


boule of bone-cold 


blets, and с 


мо wal 


"There's no doubt about it — our biggest job 
is to keep ет ош of Russian hands!” 


111. 


PLAYBOY 


112 


Jazz singers (continued from page 74) 


trombonist. Wholly relaxed, he'd saun- 
ter toward the mike, slip his hands into 
his pockets, and release as cavernous a 
sound as jazz has ever heard. Jelly, Jelly 
was his blues trademark, chasm-throated 
masculinity, his forte. 

While Eckstine was with the Hines 
band — a group that also included Di 
nd Bird—he heard a young si 
g an amatcur contest at the Apollo 
ег and promptly landed her а job 
me outfit in 1943. Her name 
s Sarah Lois Vaughan. Immediately 
endorsed by jazzmen of the day (and by 
such hip fringe-figures as Dave Garroway, 
then a disc jockey оп his 1160 Club 
over NBC in Chicago), Sarah proceeded 
to hit it big. Her voice —unlike the 
coolly precisioned style of Ella — was ripe 
with rmth and richness, and with a 
deep vibrato inherited from Eckstine. 
She delighted in altering melodic lines 
to suit her mood — fan beautifully 
imaginative extemporizing — just as so 
many jazzmen had done before her. Her 
j mentor: “Billy Eckstine, of 

луз Sassy (he reports the fecl- 
mutual). 

Another influence emerged early in 
1941, when Anita O'Day signed on with 
the Gene Krupa band. The Chicago- 
born belter had long been a fixture with 
Max Miller's combo at the Windy City's 
Three Deuces Club. Jazz buffs went big 
for Anita's husky, novel style — related 
to Billie Holiday's but tinged with the 
venturesome bent of the modernists. 
When Anita ісі go with Let Me Off 
Uptown (with a noble assist from strat- 
ospheric trumpeter Roy “Little Jazz" 
Eldridge), she epitomized the improvisa- 
ional nature of jazz singing during the 
Forties. In 1944, Anita joined the 
Stan Kenton band and made an instant 
hit with And Her Tears Flowed Like 
Wine. Hard-swinging, brash, endowed 
with an inventiveness usually associated 
only with top jaz instrumentalists, 
Anita has always been a musicians’ fa- 
vorite. In recent years, on the Verve 
label, she's attempted to polish the 
rough edges to look into Broadway 
s for more material, and to succeed 
hout the sometimes-coa 
isms that distinguished her 
One thi bout Anita is cert 


duri 


ts to follow. 
the first and most 


Kenton vocal 

June С 
able suc 
Shortly 
and the band came up with a hit, Tam- 
pico, and racked up a string of big sides 
in fast succession. Never a giant in mat- 
ters of intonation, Junc’s appeal is based 
tractive rhythmic and melodic im- 
provisation. Working as a single since 
she split with Stan in 1949 (except for 


occasional Kenton concert tours), June 
has recorded extensively for Capitol and 
has developed an enviable repertoire of 
seldom-sung but first-rate tunes. 

Chris Connor, who was next on the 
Kenton stand, listened Jong to the way 
Anita O'Day and June Christy sang. A 
trained musician (she played clarinet for 
cight years before turning to singing), 
Chris has also been working as a single 
since leaving Kenton in 1953. In recent 
years, she's applied her hip. somewhat 
mannered style (which includes а pen- 
chant for some of the flattest warbling in 
all of modern vocaldom) to a roster of 
little-known tunes on most of the LPs 
she has cut for Atlantic. 

Ann Richards, Stan's most recent vo- 
st, marks the first departure from the 
O'Day-Christy groove. Her approach — 
influenced by the Kenton sound itself — 
is straightlorward, strong and showbiz- 
oriented. Less experimental than her 
predecessors, she manages to move lis- 
teners with a simple, no-frills, openly 
emotional style. 

Jo Staflord, a compatriot of Sinatra's 
on the TD stand (first as a member of 
the Pied Pipers, then as а [catured solo- 
ist), also found a profitable carcer as a 
single during the late Forties and early 
Fifties. A smooth, alwayson-pitch stylist 
from the Sinatra school of discipline, 
she has consistently exhibited a steady, 
impressive musicianship. Mary Ann Mc 
Call also served an apprenticeship with 
Tommy Dorsey, then went on to chirp 
with the bands of Woody Herman and 
Charlie Barnet. An original stylist, Mary 
Ann inspired the respect of modern jazz- 
men and recorded with several of the 
best, induding wumpeter Howard Mc 
Ghee and tenor man Dexter Gordon. 
Her popularity reached a peak in 1949, 
when she topped the Down Beat poll, 
and she continues to perform today. 

As Mary Ann McCall fascinated mod- 
ern jazzmen, Lee Wiley became the vocal 
fayorite of the traditional groups. After 
working the pop circuit in the Thirties, 
Miss Wiley became closely allied with 
Eddie Condon and his Dixieland 
friends. Her skill іп interpreting lyrics, 
and her hoarse, erotic voice — character- 
ized by a wide vibrato — brought her ree 
ognition among jazz cognoscenti. 

Lena Horne, who began as а hoofer 
at New York's Cotton Club іп 1934, 
turned some of the nuances associated 
with Billie Holiday — and several pol- 
ished facets of her own — into a lucra- 
tive supperclub, Broadway, film and 
record career, a path which has led her 
to international fame. 

Mel Tormé, who dug Sinatra's casual 
approach from the start, made his dent 
and songwriter and then 
as a solo singer and leader of a vocal 
group called the Mel-Tones. His careful 


5 


dr 


concern for the rhythms and phrasings 
of jaz has won for him a wide and 
enthusiastic following among fans and 
musicians alike, and his recent LPs for. 
Verve — both as a single and with his 
revamped Mel-Tones — are some of the 
best things Mel has ever done. Herb 
Jeffries, whose balladry with the Duke 
Ellington band of 1910-1949 (particu- 
larly his now-classic Flamingo), taught a 
class of young singers how to tackle a 
love song, as did Al Hibbler, the Elling- 
ton yocal star from 1943 to 1951. 

All through the history of jazz—but 
especially during the Thirties, Forties 
and early Fifties— noted instrumental- 
sts like Armstrong and Teagarden 
hefty swing at vocalizing, often 
able results. In listening to 
them, scores of other  lessjazzat- 
tuned singers—male and female— got 
a chance to learn what jazz and jazz 
те all about. Trumpet im- 


A 


mortal Bunny Вег ап contributed I 
Can't Get Started —a staple in most 
serious jazz collections. Nat Cole, а 


superb jazz pianist, doubled as kcy- 
board and vocal artist with his trio from 
1939 to the late Forties. Soon hi 
ng proved so popular that he gave up 
piano almost entirely; few singers 
have so successfully emerged from a 
strictly jazzbased background to win 
world-wide recogy Nat's casual but 
knowledgeable approach to 
speaks am admiration for Sin 
for the better jazz horn men with whom 
Nat worked for many years. 

Before his premature death at thirty- 
nine in 1943, another pianist, named 
Fats Waller, brought a joy to singi 
— comparable to the gaiety inherent in 
his "suide" piano stvle— that harked 
back to the giddily spontancous tech- 
niques of the earliest jazz pioneers. With 
doubtful results, Benny Goodman took 
a crack at vocalizing in an old Capitol 
version of Gotta Be This or That. 
Woody in addition to 
bandleading lto chores, 
ang blues а ads in an easygoing, 
lilting style, and even took a brief swing 
at straight vocalizing alter he disbanded 


sing- 


ion. 


his first and greatest progressive Herd. 
Among the modernists, Chet Baker, 


Buddy Rich, Kenny Dorham, Dizzy Gil- 
lespie and Don EHiott have put their 
i nents nd sung from time 
to time— all in keeping with their indi- 
vidual conceptions as top jazzmen. 
During the Fifties, a veritable flood 
tide of singers inundated the musical 
scene. In an all-out assault on the ears 
and wallets of musiccraving Americans, 
many of the new male vocalists dedicated 
themselves to lite more than uncon- 
cealed emulation of Crosby or Sinatra. 
Others appropriated even earlier styles 
springboard to modernity. On the 
aff side, Bessie, Ella, Billie, Sarah and 


ide 


oor, 
o 


оооо 
890907 


0 
5 
о 
jo 
5 
0 
уо. 


“Henceforth 1 don’t want you to slart any new projects 
without consulting Professor Frankfurter or myself!” 


113 


PLAYBOY 


114 


e found their echoes, but the 
Ft gone im for 
male 


Апи 
new-wave thrushes hav 
i ion quite as openly as the 
counterparts. 

Among the old-school girl singers, sev- 
ave managed to move into the 
present without losing favor — or favor. 
Peggy Lee continues to look toward 
Billie Holiday stylistically, but has 
added a host of her own inflections; she 
seems to improve with age. Kay Starr, 
whose carly days were spent working with 
jazz musicians, hasn't turned. out a hit 
ecord in recent y but still warbles 
with a sure sei and Bessie Smith 
feel for blues. Doris Day, who swung 
with Les Brown's crack Sentimental Jour- 
ney band, remains a soothing stylist. 
Annie Ross, currently one third of Lam- 
bert, Hendricks and Коз, is firmly 
rooted in jazz From her first efforts to 
add words to jazz instrumentals (Twisted, 
Farmer's Market) in 1952, sh 
to become a hip si 
attention at jazz festiva 

Judy Garland and Е 
belters in the showbiz school, but never 
theless t it a consistent jazz feel 
that lifts their solid, rafter-rattling tech- 
niques from the ordinary. Carmen Mc- 
Rae. once beholden to Sarah Vaughan, 
is less derivative these days — and conse- 
more influcn i in her 


gonc on 


who can command 
or supperclub. 


Abbey Lincoln. 
Mary Kaye, 


Billie Holiday typez 
ih Vaughan descend- 


ant; Dinah Wash Smith 
brand of blues shouter; and Dakota 
taton, а curious blend of S; h, Ella, 

y much 


on the contemporary scene, too, Keel 
Smith, one of the few females to try 
following Sinatra in the phrasing de- 
partment, manages to do more with it 
than most of his male impersonators. On 
a more modest level, Julie London 
whispers her lyrics beguilingly — a trib- 
ute to Sinatra's popu ion of sensual 
singing. Lurlean Hunter — ап untutored 
but intuitively hip stylist — has a wide 
aithful following among mu: 
nd discriminating listeners. Мау 
ers and newcomer Aretha. Franklin are 
but two others who nimbly blend the 
best of jazz and popula псе 

Among the male singers, of course, 
not all of the Sinatra-influenced 
ation are second-rate, Ambitious, 
ous Bobby Darin (whose si 
style — and private life — are as close to 
$ s he can make them). and Vic 
Damone (whose career has zoomed of 
late after a prolonged dip) are both ex- 
ists with wide follow- 
]r, the multital- 


nes off as an enormously distinc- 
tive performer in his own right. Julius 
LaRosa. Andy Wi nd Frank 
D'Rone have also fallen effortlessly and 


ms 


successfully into step behind S 
Steve Lawrence, a casually swinging 
singer, listened intently to both $ 
and Crosby before setting out to dis 
cover his own niche. 

There is a well-populated segment of 
current male singers, however, which 
owes very litle to Sinatra. Harry Bela- 
Готе, who began as a jazz singer and 
flopped, turned to basic folk music from 
around the world, found his pot of gold, 
sparked a stillswinging folk movement, 
and set a lucrative example, since fol- 
lowed studiously by a plethora of 
ethnic song speci; 
style can be traced, it із probably closer 
to that of the early blues singers — heav- 
ily veneered with sophistication — than 
to any prominent jazz or pop voc 
Buddy Greco, Bill Henderson, Johnny 
Hartman, Mark Murphy and Jon Hend- 
ricks are others who have found comfort- 
able, if limited, grooves of their own. 

Johnny Mathis sounds like a high 
register version of Nat Cole, divested of 

t's vigorous sense of rhythm and case 
in the jazz idiom. Johnny sang better at 
the start than he does today, but he has 

is own following in fans and singers 
nd Johnny Nash. The 
redoubtable Elvis Presley, long admired 
rs— and a 
s — is actually closer to 
T 


jazz th 
y singers: much of the rock "m 
h made 


jority of present- 
roll 
w h he made 
— famou йу back to 
traditional blues shouting; his raw, prim- 
itive style derives from the earliest wail- 
nerant blues singers, and to the 
nd-blucs so popular for decades. 
As for Elvis grotesque imitators — the 


da 


ES 
can be 


Fabians, Little Richards, Frankie Аха- 
lons and Brenda Lees — the material 
they sing and the way they sing it is so 
echo-chambered, ¢ and hopelessly 


inept that it ha: 
The gospel singing of M Jack- 
son, Sister Rosetta Tharpe and others 
also has deep roots in the jazz idiom, 
a single listen to Nin none will elo- 
quently testify. The fervor of the gospel 
s been а potent influence on singers 
like Miss Simone, whose background 
cludes years of experience in jazz. 
Ever since the heyday of the Thirtie: 
vocal groups have had their niche in the 
history of jazz singing. The Mills Broth- 
ers set the pace for yea 
such lı ies as Satchmo, F nd 
Ellington, But in ent y the im- 
portant vocal groups have turned to the 
posthop modernists for their insp 
tion: most noteworthily, the Four Fresh- 


ш 


recording with 


men and the HiLo's, both improvi 
tional harmony groups, and Lambert, 
ks and Ross, an inventive three- 


some given to combining original lyrics 
the most familiar instru- 
ements and ad lib solos in 
jazzdom. Several of the more venerable 


with some of 


| groups— formed to supplement 
and sound of the Іше Thirties 
nd сапу re still around: the 


Modernaires, the Pied Pipers and 
"Tormé's Mel-Tones, still swinging as they 
did in days of yore, still leaving their 


marks on countless new contingents. 

Ray Charles offers one of the most ex 
styles to come along in years and. 
heads any list of presentday blues kings 
Joining him are the likes of Joe Turner, 


Jimmy Rushing, Mae Barnes, Lizzie 
Miles, Champion Jack Dupree, Muddy 


Waters, T-Bonc Walker, 1. ng, Hop- 
kins, Jimmy Witherspoon, Fats Domino 
and countless others, old and young, the 
late: and rediscovered veterans, 
urban and rural blues-belters alike. Ва 
bara Dane, a 1960 edition of Bessie, 
carries on the tradition. too. 

The eminent Joe Williams, age forty- 
two, paid his blues dues with Jimmic 
Noone's band back in the late Thirties, 
later with Coleman Hawkins and Lionel 
Hampton, then in a long, illustrious 
suetch with Count В: rly 19) 
Joc «ut Every Day, an old blues he 1 
rd sung by Memphis Slim y 
Will 
у 22 publics еу 
g soulfulness with a sizable slice of 
and sophistication, Joc is a natu 
man, big and powerful, with a sinewy 
voice that can handle a up 
tempo blues or a gentle ballad with 
equally consummate case. Today, split 
from Basie for the first time since 1951, 
Joe is making his big bid as a single. 

So, the blues continue to be sung, 
with all their throbbing power, with all 
their pulsequickenin urfour drive 
vocally and. instrumentally, the very су 
begin- 
udience for the blues is 
ater than du the 
Rainey; but the message re- 
ially unchanged. 

m the savage eloquence of the fi 
Negro field hand who wailed out hi 
misery in song. to the polished profes- 
sionality of a Ray Charles or a Sammy 
Davis, Ше jazz singer — and his audience 
— have grown and matured in re 
to the changing rhythms of the 
itself. Gi ating in the soil of deep- 
rooted tradition, the jazz s ned 
to think and feel for themselv 
to sing in their own private voice. 
ever their idiom — from New Orleans to 
soul jazz—all have become part of a 
constantly growing and infinitely varied 
heritage. The potency of jazz, and the 
promise of its future, spring from this 
independence, this freedom from bond- 
age to the past, As long as composers 
continue to create jazz and instrumental- 
ists to ad lib it, the human voice — that 
most flexible of all musical instruments — 
will find new ways to sing 


ms 


ponse 


sic 


s lea 


BARBARIANS 


(continued from page 50) 
ral pur 
they will 


say they "haven't time” for cultu 
suits. Vet, week alter wi 
spend dozens of hours at country clubs, 
loafing here or there, slumped in 
chairs in their homes, staring bl 
at the vulgar banalities that [ash across 
the sereens of their television sets. 

I've found that a disheartening num- 
ber of businessmen and executives — 
and old —obstinately maini 
that "business and culture. don't mix. 
to the notion that business- 
men have neither the temperament nor 
the patience to understand and арр 
ciate anything “artistic.” They seem to 
fear that participation in cultural activ 
ities would somehow “soften” them and 
make them less able to cope with the 
harsh realities of the business world 
Without doubt, these are the weakest 
and most fallacious of all arguments 

The world's most successful commer 
ve always 
been noted as patrons of the arts and 
waive supporters of all cultural activ 
ities, There are also innumerable proofs 
that commercial and industrial develop- 
ment, far from being incompatible with 
cultural progress, actually gives culture 
езі forward impetus. It can be 
shown that the arts have always flour- 
ished most vigorously in prosperous, 
highly commercialized апа industrial- 
ized nations. 

One excellent example of this is pro. 
vided by the Republic of Venice, which 
dominated the commerce of Europe and 
Asia for nearly eight. centuries. The 
Venetian. traders were as shrewd and as 
listic y the world has ever 
known. The Venetians were also crack 
industrialists, mastering. production-line 
techniques more than six hundred years 
before the first assembly line made its 
appearance in the United States. The 
іс arsenal at Venice was geared 
10 turn out at least one fully-equipped, 
seagoing ship a d 
line that began with the laying of the 
vessel's keel and finished with the arm- 
ing and provisioning of the ship 

The Venetians were hard-headed, 
profitconscious merchants and manufac- 
turers. All things considered, they faced 
fur more risks and problems in their 
day-to-day operations than any modern 
Lusinessman. Nevertheless, these were 
the men who were responsible for the 
building of the Doges Palace, the 
Golden Basilica of St. Mark. the grea 
palazzi along the Grand Canal and un- 
counted other magnificent structures 
which they filled with works of incom- 
parable beauty, 

It was in and for "commercial Venice 
that Tintoreto, Titian, Veronese and 
many other masters produced their 
greatest works. The Laced city of 
tough-skinned merchants and manufac- 
turers became an artistic wonder of the 


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world — and so it remains even to 
this day. The beauty and esthetic gran- 
deur of Venice have endured — monu- 
ments not only to the artists who created 
the beauty, but also to the businessmen 
at whose behest it was created. 

In modern times, cultural progress has 
certainly kept pace with industrial and 
commercial expansion in such nations 
as England, France, Italy, Germany and 
Sweden — to name only a few. Neither 
businessmen nor the populace as а whole 
т any of these cou 
less interest in cultural activitics today 
than they did years, decades or genera- 
tions ago. Quite to the contrary. It 
evident that, although their lives have 
grown more complex and their pace of 
iving has been greatly accelerated, they 
are still packing the art galleries, mu 
seums, concert halls, theaters and ope 
houses. 

These people have learned a lesson 
it would be well for many Americans 
to study. They have learned that culture 
bestows many rewards and benefits — 
among them a better, more satisfactory 
life, great inner satisfaction and mental 
1 emotional refreshment and inspira 


Americans traveling abroad are often 
startled to hear rubbish collecto 
street sweepers singing operatic a 
the themes of symphon 
concertos as they go about their work. 
If they happen to know the language 
of the country th ing, Amer- 
ican tourists are even more surprised 


when — as frequently happens —they hear 
restaurant waiters or hotel employees 
arguing heatedly 
the теш 


mong themselves over 
ive merits of various Impres- 
painters or classical dramatists. 
mericans who go overseas on 
business are nonplused to find their 
foreign counterparts interspersing their 
business conversations with references 
—and quotations — from great authors, 
poets, playwrights and philosophers 
about whom the Americans have only 
the haziest, skimpiest knowledge. 

Saddest of all are some an 
businessmen I've encountered in Europe 
who went abroad to buy or invest and 
expected European manufacturers to 
entertain them in the best accepted 
Madison Avenue tradition—with wild 
nights on the town. Гуе listened with 
straight face and, I hope, with an ade- 
quately sympathetic expression to the 
woeful recitals of several of these men 
who wailed that instead of the antici- 
pated champagnesoaked orgies, they 
found themselves being taken to the 
opera or the ballet. 


Ameri 


t is that the aver- 
age man in most civilized foreign coun- 
tries — be he laborer or industrial m 
nate— takes а keen interest in and 
has a deep appreciation of all forms of 
cultural and artistic expression. 

There are, I suppose, several prin- 


cipal reasons for the indifference — if 
not open hostility — of the majority of 
American men toward all things that 
come under artistic or cultural headings. 
Some of the roots can be found in our 
Puritan heritage. Farly Ame: 
tans, hewing to their stern, super-C; 
vinist doctrines, equated art with de- 
pravity, branded most music as carnal 
and licentious, shunned literature other 
than religious tracts or theological dis- 
courses and condemned virtually all cul- 
tural pursuits as being frivolous and 
ful. In the Puritan view, that which was 
not starkly simple and coldly functional 
was, propler hoc, debauched and de- 
generat 

Despite the fact that the Puritans w 
only a minority to begin with and меге 
entirely engulfed by gargantuan infu- 
sions of non-Puri stock into the 
American melting pot, the influence of 
the Puritan heritage on Ате 
thought and behavior can be noted ev 
to this day 

Then, there is the Colonial and Revo- 
lutionary traditi 
leged authorities h: 


an Puri- 


icorrectly 
defined as having demanded a complete 


break with all th 
cluding the “decadent” cultures of Eng- 
Jand and the Continent. 


Raymond у 7) 
ort Bled 
ең Pit 


The founding fathers desired по such 
thing. They sought political independ- 
ence from England and wished to clim- 


te monarchy and tiled aristocracy 
from the American scheme. But most 
5 figures of the American Revo- 


n hoped to preserve the cultural 
traditions of the Old World and to 
transplant the highly developed art and 
culture of England and Europe to the 
New World. 

Benjamin Franklin, George Washing 
ton, John Adams—to mention only 
three — were all men of culture. Any 
опе who has ever visited Thomas Jeffcr 
son's home in Monticello must have 
been impressed by the flawless taste re 
flected in the architecture and furnish 
ings of the house built by this man who 
read the classics in Greek and Latin. 

But then, one need look no further 
than the architecture of the ion's 
capital to find refutation of the theory 
that the. founders of the United States 
desired to discard foreign artistic and 
cultural influences. The Capitol Build- 
ing and the White House, both designed 
soon after the Revolutionary War ended, 
are excellent examples. The Capitol 
Building is strongly reminiscent of St. 
Peters Basi in Rome. There is a 
startling resemblance between the main 
ас of the White House and that of 
the Duke of Leinster's home in Dublin, 
оп which architect James Hoban based 
his designs for the Executive Д 

Despite the mass of incontroyertible 
proof to the contrary, there are still 
ultrapatriots and professional сі 
ists who believe that the Colon: 
tion entailed a repudiation of classical 
= апі particularly European ог for- 
cign — art and culture. From this falla- 
cious concept it is only a short step to 
t all cultural activities are 


American d unsuited for red- 
blooded Americans. 
As if these influences—the Puritan 


and what might be termed the pseudo- 
ions— were not enough, 
the ge American man's attitude to- 
ward culture has been further warped 
by Ше mythical mystique of the Amer- 
ican frontier heritage. 

The rough-and-ready, generally unlet- 
tered and often uncouth, [rontiersman 
Jong ago became the figure after which 
generations of American men would 
subconsciously pattern themselves. Be- 
li that they are emulating pr 
worthy qualities of their pioneer fore- 
bears, many U.S. males sneer at any art 
above the September Morn level and 
jeer at any music that cannot be played 
оп a honky-tonk piano or twanged and 
scraped out by a self-taught banjo player 
and an amateur fiddler. 

The figure of the two-fisted, fast-draw- 
culture-hating  frontiersman 
turesque, but it slead- 
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men—and men who thirsted for cul- 
ture —as well as barroom brawlers and 
gunslingers on the American frontier. 

It is, perhaps, significant to note the 
mples provided by two rough, tou; 
t played important 
Westward exp 
nd Denver. 

San Francisco's Barbary Coast and 
Denver's Holladay Street were probably 
the wickedest and wildest enclaves in 
all the wild, wild West. Even so, there 
were lew Eastern. metropolises that 
gave such quick and unstinting support 
to cultural projects as did San Francisco 
and Denver, even in their raucous 
fancy 

San Franciscans always showed a 
preciation for music and art —even іп 
the days when the city was а gold-rush- 
era Helldorado. ‘There are very few 
metropolises іп the United States today 
with higher general levels of taste and 
culture. than Francisco — and the. 
city’s cultural traditions go back well 


Francisco. 


San 


over a century. 
Denver had its Occidental. Най and. 
the Tabor Grand Opera House the 


latter built by Н. A. W. Tabor, as crude 
a character as can be found in Amer 
ican history. The Tabor Grand Opera 
House was a showplace of the West 
Operas, concerts and lectures were gi 

there — and Denverites packed the 
torium, listened attentively and, il cor 
temporary ieved, 


accounts are to be bel 


appre 

I believe 1 am qualified to comment 
personally on the cultureshunning myth 
of the American frontier. My own fore- 
bears came to the United States in the 
Eighteenth Century. They were pioneers, 
mainly farmers, who 
to build their futures 
It was for one of the 
that Gettysburg, Pe 
name 

Judging by the memorabilia 
people leit behind, they and la 
hers of their contemporaries 
for culture and knowledge іп all 
forms. They read avidly, passing books 
ularly the classics — from hand 
to hand. They dreamed of the day when 
they could have good oil paintings on 
the walls of the good homes they hoped 
to build. They tried to teach their chil- 
dren to appreciate and love fine litera- 
ture, art and music. 

My own father was born in 1855 on a 
Ohio farm—and a very poor and un- 
productive farm at that. His widowed 
mother was impoverished and life wa 
anything but simple and easy. Yet, the 
thirst for intellectual and cultural bet 
terment was great. My father worked his 
way through school and college, and one 
of his greatest sources of pride was his 
membership in his university's literary 
society. 

1, myself, had a heaping helping of 
life on America’s last frontier when, 


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1904, my father, mother and I went to 
what was then the Oklahoma Territor 
"The t Oklahoma Oil Rush had just 
begun. Clapboard and raw-pine settle- 
ments mushroomed overnight around 
newly discovered oil fields and newly 
established drilling sites. Most g 
men habitually carried six-guns 
to their waists: shooting 
everyday commonplaces. 

The situation had not changed much 
by 1909, when I first went to work as 
а roustabout on one of the oil wells my 
father was drilling Ше Oklahom 
fields. Nor w there a very great deal 
of difference іп 1914, when I struck out 
on my own as a wildcatting oil pros- 
pector. 

The oilfield workers and wildcatters 
were certainly hard, tough and virile, 
but I can remember many of the tough- 
est among them dressing up in their 
Sunday best and going to Oklahoma 
City or Tulsi to hear а touring opera 
company or a concert artist. perform. 

When they struck it rich, а great 
ay oil men —T might even say most — 
bought or built homes and purchased 
paintings, sculptures and antique furni- 
ture and rugs for them. They alo went 
East, to New York, to sce the plays and 
hear the operas and concert 
Prue, their tastes were seldom refined. 
or matured — at least not at first. Bur 
the fact remains that these rugged, hard- 
bitten men did thirst for arci: 


they th 
modern 


phobes that so many 
Americans think all frontiersmen and 
old-timers were, and whose 
example they seek to emulate 
to prove themselves rugged, two-fisted, 
Hile men. 

аге other factors that help pro- 
e such а high proportion of educated 
barbarians — but, 


Amcrican mc 


mong 


“You call these paintings that will live forever. 


regardless of the causes, the results 2 
deplorable. 

The saddest part of the whole situa- 
tion is that the United States does pos- 
sess outstanding cultural ations 
and facilities. American symphony or- 


nies are among. 


chestras and opera comp 
the finest in the world. American mu- 
seums and art galleries — public and pri- 
ave amassed some of the world's 
greatest collect ‚ sculp- 


art in all its forms from all historical 
periods. 

Great music is ау 

graph records and recordin 
works by contempora 
sculptors and fine reproductions of the 
works of the masters are well within the 
reach of most Americans’ pocketbooks. 
The great Classics of literature are 
available in editions costing only a few 
cents per volume. Courses in art and 
music appreciation, literature, poetry 
and drama are offered, not only in the 
public schools and colleges, but also in 
lult education programs. 
Tragically, only a сөт vely tiny 
fraction of the population — and. par- 
ticularly of the male population — takes 
advantage of the myriad facilities and 
opportunities that are olfered through- 
out the county. 

Symphony orchestras and opera com- 
often end their seasons with s 
deficits. Few re the 
museums and 1 терс 
regular heavy attendance. Countless 
record albums featuring the cater- 
waulings of some bosomy chanteuse or 
tone-deal crooner are sold for every al- 
bum of serious music that is purchased. 
Even greater numbers of lurid, ill-writ- 
ten novels are snapped up for every 
volume of serious literature that is 
bought Save for a few sections of the 
country, cultural classes and courses sel- 
dom il ever have capacity enrollments. 


p 


gerin 


indeed, 


Teachers and professors who conduct 
such classes have told me that a course 
that should have thirty or forty students 
enrolled in it will have only six or cight. 

Americans, and especially Americin 
men, must realize that an understanding, 
and appreciation of litcrature, drama, 

rt, music — in short, of culture — will 
give them а broader, better foundation 
in life, and will enable them to enjoy 
life more, and more fully. It will pro- 
vide them with better balance and per- 
spective, with interests that are pleasing 
to the senses and inwardly satisfying and 
gratifying 

Far from emasculating or effeminizing 
a man. a cultural interest serves to make 
him more completely — and a more com- 
plete — male as well as a more complete 
human being. It stimula nd vitalizes 
him as an individual — arpens his 

tes, sensibilities ivity for 
and to all things in life. 

The cultured man is almost invariably 
a self-assured, urbane and completely 
confident male. He recognizes, appr 
tes and enjoys the subtler shadin, 
1 nuances to be found in the intellec 
l emotional and even physic 
spheres of human existence — and in the 
ationships between human bcings. Ве 
it in à board room or a bedroom, he 
is much better equipped to play his 
masculine role than is the gencrally 
heavy-handed and maladroit educated 
barbarian. 

It isn’t necessary to force-feed oneself 
with culture nor to forsake other in- 
terests in order to experience the bene- 
fits and pleasures offered by cultural 
pursuits. One's preferences, tastes. and 
knowledge should be developed slowly, 
dually — and enjoyably. 

Culture is like a fine wine that one 
drinks in the company of a beautiful 
It should be sipped and savored 
— never gulped. 


woman 


falphense Nopmandias 


1 told you we should have hired Michelangelo!” 


demon tailor 
(continued from page 76) 


liked his style — there is something sin- 
sularly Scottish about Red Ind 
and was prepared to make his bett 
acquaintance, so after a while I said to 
him, "Pardon my asking, sir, but do you 
know any other words in the English 
language?" 

Some,’ he replied, 


ut more Span- 


"Unfortunately, I know little Sp 
You are not [rom these parts, 1 


ish, si 
take и” 
Мо) You sec True economy of 
speech. An Englishman would have sa id 
something like, ‘What, ше? From these 
here parts? Not me. I соте from Ux- 
bridge. You s [rom Shepherd's 
Bush Station ` etcetera, etcetera. 
But this man gave me а plain and suc- 
cinct No. 

“They call you Chick SeeIn‘The- 
Dark, 1 believe?" 

Vers 

“May I ask why’ 

“ Yes" 

“Why? 

“Futuro is dark. I see futuro." 

“Beer — Shot,’ said 1 to the bı 


man. 


Then, to the Chief, ‘You see into the 


future, is that it?” 

“ Yes." 

Well, I said, ‘I don't much regard 
that kind of thing. I come of a hard- 
bitten Presbyterian family, don't you 
see, and my father was very much down 
on the Witch of Endor, and all that. 
But my mother, bless her heart, used to 
have a go at the tea leaves on the quiet, 
in an innocent kind of way. 

jot — Beer, said he. Then һе 
touched my medal ribbons апа said, 
"You — valiente." 

"Brave? Not especially,” I sa 
know how 
when they're drunk. Well, Fm so sat- 
ed in crisis that I am only really 
calm when Ги trouble.’ He seemed 
to understand me. He nodded. 

"I tell you futuro? he asked. 

"T answered him, ‘Chief, only cowards 
and fools want to know the future. But," 
I said, handing him that timc-tarnished 
crack vulgar mockers love to make with 
palmists and card-rcaders, ‘you may tell 
те, if you like, what's going to win the 
Derby.’ 

“I was asl 


some men are only sober 


ur 


ned of myself for having 
said anything so crass; but it was said, 
and he nodded, looking somewhat scorn- 
ful. ‘Win? Derby? Yes, I tell, he replied, 
and held his forehead. "Kentucky Derby, 
hah" 

“1 said, "What, do they have а Derby 
in Kentucky? He nodded. 1 went on, 
‘You'll excuse my ignorance. My qu 
tion was, so to speak, merely academic. 
I have not Ше slightest interest in horse- 


racing, or in gambling in any form. It's 
ingrained. My parents were dead 
against it, and it never appealed to me 
anyway. I haye never even been to a 
race-meeting! I was speaking of the only 
Derby I know, the English Derby —' 

“He held up a hand, and I was silent. 
His eyes became still as paint. Then he 
said, ‘English Derby . . . Nueva Plaza 
de Mercado? 

“ Why.’ I said, ‘that me: 
Ketplace, and it is a fact that the English 


e 


Derby is run at Newmarket’ 
“ ‘Pasado — futuro — nothing! 


АП one. 
Like —' He drew an imaginary straight 
line in the air with such a steady hand 
that if you had put a spirit-level on it 
the bubble would have come dead center 
and stayed there. "You ask, I tell. That 
win Derby.” And he touched the old 
SHAEF badge on my sleeve. Now, as 
you doubtless know, Ше Supreme Head- 
qu Allied. Expeditionary 
Forces had adopted for their device a 
shield shaped affair, having embroidered 
on it a crusader’s sword surmounted by 
a very gaudy little rainbow: it looked 
like the trademark for some kind of per- 
fumed disinfectant. 

“ "This I don't get,’ I said. ‘Past 
ture arc all one, and this gua 
to-hurt-the-most-delicate-ski 


ers of the 


ind fu- 
anteed-not- 
advertise- 


ment is going to win the Derby . . . 
пап! Beer — Shot." 
Chief. See-In-Fhe-Dark. said, 71 have 


few words.” Indeed, I imagine that even 
in his native tongue he was far from 
loquacious. ‘I sec it. Naranja." 
me nac, 1 said. 
"Yes. Orange. On him’ — pointing 
again to my badge — ‘in lluvia, In fango" 
“Ап orange in rain and mud, said 
I. ‘Well, Im obliged to you for the 
tip, and the pleasure of your company. 
We'll have one for the road, and TH 
be back to my train.’ 

“Wait.” Hc touched. my chest. 'You 
have pain there? 

“CA little.” 

“No sleep” 

“Not as well as I might.’ 

"Wait. I give you sleep. I make you 
see in sleep. I have few words. Wait" 
He took out an old silver snuffbox, 
produced from this а round brown pill. 
"Tonight cat that. You sleep, and you 
sce in sleep.’ 

“Well, th ad put the 
pill in my cig Then I fished 
out an old silver Seaforth Highlanders’ 
badge. ‘Have that for luck,’ I said. 

"So we parted, the best of friends, 
for all 1 could not make head nor tail 
of his gibberish; and I got my clothes, 
and caught the train, and fell straight 
into the clutches of an elderly lady suf- 
fering from what 1 may deseribe as 


ns or 


vicarious battle fatigue. She kept read- 
me deuer from her son, who 
ned, among other things, 10 have 


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given General Pauon a hot foot and 
i it. A barefaced lie: it was 
1 who had done this thin 
"So. come midnight. I was too irri- 
table «d to sleep, and the wounds 
in my chest were throbbing, but then, 
remembering the Indian's pill, I took 
it out and swallowed it. The effects were 
curious. First 1 fell into a state that 
was neither sleeping nor waking — not 
yet was it а halfsleep. The rocking, 
clattering old train seemed to rush away, 
leaving me По; and as I floated, 
the heavy parts of my body and mind 
seemed to flake away from me. Incon- 
sequentially, 1 saw my SHAEF bad, 
and it came to me that the rainbow and 
the sword meant Gay Gi der, which 
must be the name of a race horse. How 
stupid Chief See-In-The-Dark must think 
me! I thought. 
“Then his image passed out of my 
mind, and the roar of the train became 
the confused yelling of a great crowd. 
1 blinked, and felt cold water on my 
face: opened my eyes, saw a sector of 
bright green turf through a veil of rain, 
d knew that I w nd, at 
Newmarket, on the racecourse оп Derby 
Day. I was in my uniform, but 
wearing a trench coat, for the sky was 
aking like a sieve, and I was in mud 
пр to my ankles, 
“А young capta 
whom I se 


was 


with 
terms 
(ЕУ 


n of infantry 
emed to be on friendly 
asked me, "How's your luck, С 
"Bad, 1 replied. ‘I came here with 
two hundred pounds in my pocket, and 
I'm down to eighty. 

"Well said he, ‘have a bit on Dark 
Legend іп the next race." 
hat's the fourth, 
an in civ 
y money's 


Wt it?" I asked. 
n clothes said, 
on РапеПоп. Не 


course 


No, sir, no!’ а 
‘mark my wor 
Desmond. / һау 
"Тһе more fool vou, said his com- 
panion, a bowlegged little major. 
Desmond'll never stay that course in this 
Гус put everything but my false 
teeth. on Diadem’ 
“Other voices said, 


d a third man, 
put your shirt on 5 


‘Invi 


cible" and 


‘Ki 


pocket. 1 read that the judge was Mr. 


С. E. Robinson. Handicapper, Mr. R. 
Ord. Clerk of the scales, Mr. William 
С. Manning. . . . Then my eye fell 
on the name of a horse. Gay Crusader! 
І had a sudden overpowering feeling 
that this horse must win. I ran to the 
»t bookie, and shouted, hty 
pounds to win on Gay Crusader! “А 
hundred and forty to eighty, win, Gay 
кадет," said the bookie, giving me 
ticket. 


verybody shouted, ‘They're off!" 
Off they were. A seagreen jockey took 
the lead, and there was a cry, "Come on 
Invincible! Invincible! Invincible" A 
purple jockey with scarlet sleeves was 
coming up close behind, clinging like a 
marmoset to the neck of his mount. He 
squeezed ahead. ‘Dark Legend! Come 
on, come on Dark Legend" came the 
cry, as the sca-green rider fell behind. 

“As I saw it from where I stood, the 
t of the runners was ridden E 
jockey in black and turquoise — they 
seemed to stand still. "Dark Legend! 
Dark Legend" the crowd roared. 

“But then a jockey with orange-col- 
ored sleeves seemed to lift his horse out 
of the mud with his knees and throw it 
forward with a terrific hitch of his shoul- 
ders. The roar of the crowd became a 
scream: "Gay Crusader" And then Gay 
Crusader w: t the post with Danel- 
lon thec lengths behind, and Dark 
Legend third. 

“I took my ticket to the bookie and 
he paid me two hundred and twenty 
pounds, ‘I don't begrudge it he said. 
The young infanuyman said, “Lend us 
a tenner, Chid—I'm skinned.” 1 lent 
him a ten pound note, and then 1 woke 
up. ... What the devil are you laugh- 

ng at, Kersh? -. . I woke up, I say, with 
such an intense sense of the reality of 
this dream, or vision, that I could still 
feel the crispness of that money in my 
nd, and smell the bookies cigar 
smoke. 

Then I slept deep for several hours, 
and awoke much refreshed: but the 
memory of that dream was in my mind 
with the vividness of a true physical 
experience. So I wrote it all down, in 
the form of a letter to my friend and 
man ol business, Mr. Abercrombie, of 
London; and I added a postscript say- 
ise put eighty pounds on Gay 
the Derby.’ 
r mail from 


for me, to win 
And I sent this letter by 
Salt Lake С 
“I received his reply a week or two 
later, in п Francisco, where I was 
lecturing at the Presidio. Tt ram some- 
what as follows: 
“Му dear Chidiock —1 have re- 
ceived your very extraordinary 
communication to which, ош of 
curiosity, 1 have devoted more 
time than it deserved. Either your 
Red Indian friend was sing 
y wellinformed as to the p: 
history of the Turf i 
and was pulling your leg, or 
prophesy, ls. Gay 
ler won the Derby in the 
r 1917. Danellon and Dark 
Legend were, indeed, respec 
tively second and third. Gay Cru- 
sader's colors were, in Гас, white 
with orange sleeves. Dancllo 
were s en with purple cap; 


Dark Legend’s were purple and 
scarlet. The judge, handicapper 
and clerk of the scales were, re- 


spectively, C. E. Robinson, К. 
Ord and William C. Manning. 1 
find, on inquiry, that the race 
went almost exactly as you de 
scribed it. Gay Crusader did pay 
fourteen to eight. Only you are 
precisely thirty years too latc. 


Take another pill, and try sleep- 
ing with your head in the op- 
posite direction.’ 

“And there you hive the naked facts 
of this өз fair. If you offer 
me some rational explanation, such as. 
that at the age of eight or nine I hap 
pened, in Northern Scotland, to rex 
а minute account of a race at Newmar 
ket in the south of England, or that 
Chief Sce-In-The-Dark kept a complete 
file of back numbers of Sporting Life 
іп his wigwam, and memorized them — 
well, go ahead. 

"But 1 have detained you with this 
story, Mr. Vara, first of all to teadh you 
not to hurry your betters, and secondly, 
that you may appreciate the fact that 
time is all on one plane, Past, present 
and future are all the same thing in 
the long run. Here are your trousers: 
let me have my change, if you please.” 

Mr. Vara was silent. He sat, bowed. 
1 was sorry for him. Then he said, in 
small, broken voice, "Mr. Kersh, will 
you be so kind as to ш the tclephone 
and dial Susquehanna 1-3245? Ask Mike 
what won the second race at Jam 

І did so. “A horse named Phoenix 


с put my shirt on 
Varsity Express," he said. "50 much for 
sure things. I am grateful to you, Cap- 
tain, for detaining 

Colonel. said 
turning to leave 

But Mr. Vara uttered a little cry, and 
said, "Stop! In all the flurry and un- 
necessary excitement, 1 have made 
double crease іп the right trouser leg 
at the back!” 

“The devil you have!” said Colonel 
Chidiock Reason. “Where?” 

"My rat hole of a shop is too sm: 
for a triple mirror, sir," said Mr. V 
"Be so very kind as to take them off 
and I fix it in half a second.” 


Chidiock Reason, 


He banged an iron onto the little 
stove. The colonel returned 10 the cubi- 
cle and handed Mr. Vara his trousers, 
growling, "Make haste, man. 1 have 
an engagement downtown in half am 
hour. 


“More haste, less speed.” said Mr. Vara. 
spreading the trousers on the board. 
Past, present and future all the 
same thing in e long run. And if you 
fluster me, sir, 1 am quite likely to burn 
a terrible hole in this fine garment. Hive 
а cup of tea and relax; 1 am not going 
to the horse races after all. You hive 
reminded me that I, too, was strictly 


brought up. Sit still, and I will tell 
you a story about how I was brought 
Duos 

And for three quarters of an hour he 
held the coloncl's trousers in jeopardy 
under a very hot pressingiron, while 
he told us the dullest story I have ever 
heard in my life. When at last he let 
us go, he said to the colonel, who was 
speechless with rage,“ . . . And thank 
you for your fine story. I have great 
respect for the supernatural. I am not 

olier. It would never occur to me 
to you, "It could perhaps be that 
n was in a doughboy’s un 
form in Europe in 1917, and saw that 
same Derby.’ Oh no, no! It would be 
almost impious to say, “А Red Indian 
also likes his little joke, mister, and 
he was pulling your leg’ — so I will not 
say it" 

Colonel Chidiock R 
pe ший, 
The judge, the handicapper, the clerk 
of the scales!” 

“I am only a poor tailor in a rat 
hole of a shop, but if 1 were a lawyer 
in court, I should ask, ‘How many shots 
of Scotch. whisky was it you mentioned 
having drunk, General? 1 put it to you 
that the Red Indian told you all these 
things, but" — Vai 
cation 

The colonel said, "Its lucky for you 
you're not thirty years younger!” 

Even old age has its compensations,” 
said Mr. Vara, Jetting us ош of the 
shop. “Come again, come again oft 


ted into 


ed іп depre- 


I let a decent interval pass before 


saying, "Well, Chidiock, ГЇЇ take my 
half case іп Old MacTaggart's Highland 
Dew 


"You'll take your what?” the colonel 
asked, amazed. 

"My winnings.” 

"Have you gone dafè I held 

nst his will, did I not" 

Vara held you against yours, didn't 
he?" 

"How d'you know? Since when were 
you a mind reader? Who are you to 
say that I wasn't on reconnoiter, spar- 
ring, my enemy ave 

nto a false sense of se 


fceli ош? I 
lulled him 
curity 

“The fact remain: 

“— Oh, of course, if you 
call the w off, go ahead —if you 
insist оп leaving the issue unsettled. 
But if P had time to finish this little 
game 1 could keep your Vara dancing 
half the night in his cubbyhole like a 
squinel in a wire cage. For now 1 have 
1 


want to 


у plan of сараї 
must nail him to the ground!" 

"What move is that?” [ asked. 

"Obviously, my friend, 1 put on my 
tunic, shirt, tie, stockings, shoes — and 
nothing else. Over all, I wear my long 
greatcoat, go into his cubicle ten min- 
utes belore closing time, throw off my 


1 move 


coat, and scream bloody murder for 
the return of my kilt, swearing I was 
wearing it when I came in! 

“Better call it a draw,” I said. 

"Why so?" asked Chidiock Reason. 
“Why the devil so?” 

“At the best, old fellow, yours would 
a Pyrrhic victory.” 
“A victory is a victory, mar 
“Oh, talk sense, Chidiock! Would you 
rifice a platoon to kill a mouse? 
Г that mouse were gnawing at a 
vital line of communication. But where's 
your point, man, where's your point 

Look here,” I said, “Гус be 
counuy, off and on, 


be 


thi 
fifteen years. The question of what a 
Scotsman wears under his kilt is one 
of the last jokes in the frayed old files 
of American professional humorists — it 
still bears embroidery because it remains 
a question! Would you tip the informa- 
tion to Vara? Yes you would detain 
him. Bur would it necessarily be agains 
his will? Say he called in the neighbor 

The colonel paused, biting his lip. 
“Тһе information 1 tipped might be 
false," he said. "I could wear, say, а 


a matter of 


-.and we're having а 


sale on brownies today . . 


pair o£ drawers, green silk drawers. 
"You would be improperly dres 
I said. 
“On a com 
goes,” he rei 


"a 


nando stunt, anything 
ided me. 


gainst the civ 
ally?” I asked. 
Quick as a snake, he was back at 
may wear the Chidiock plaid 
with civilian clothe: 


population of an 


me: 


y Vara rang the Evening Tabloid, 
and called a photographer?” 

iht Your inati 
heated,” said Chidiock Reason, drawi 


ima; on ds 


a bar “Time to talk of th 

when vou have crosed the 
Rhine, as Napoleon said — or ought 
to have said. А homeopathic dose of 
that e H nd Dew of which you 


spoke is called for; a wee tincture. 
Come 
"They charge a dollar a drink for 


hland Dew in the bars,” I protested. 
"Why should that worry me, since you 


are going to pay 


1 the colonel. 


121 


PLAYBOY 


122 


PLAYBOY 
READER SERVICE 


Write to Janet Pilgrim for the 
answers to your shopping 
questions. She will provide you 
with the name of a retail store 
in or near your city where you 
can buy any of the specialized 
items advertised or editorially 
featured in PLAYBOY. For 
example, where-to-buy 
information is available for the 
merchandise of the advertisers 
in this issue listed below. 


Amblers Slacks su 
BMC Spor 5 
atalina Sweaters 


Holeproof Socks . 
Interwoven Socks 
Jockey Thorobred Нові 
Leesures Shirts .. 
Paper Mate Pens. 
Winthrop Shee 
YMM 8 


Miss Pilgrim will be happy to. 
answer questions relating 

to merchandise and services in 
the fields of fashion, travel, food 
and drink, hi-fi, etc. If your 
question involves items you saw 
in PLAYBOY, please specify 

page number and issue of the 
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Mail to PLAYBOY 
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086 


PLAYBOY'S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK 


BY PATRICK CHASE 


WE HEREBY NOMINATE October as Get-off- 
ack Month: its that time of 
x East (most of which is a 


obtheway, happily, no longer means 
untouched by the travel lanes. A Рап 
Am 707 can at least jet you as fai 
»x-oll point lor a short 
jaunt to your destination. 

For instance, Bora-Bora — the 
which James Michener has 
most beautiful in the world 
minutes by flying boat from 7 
boasts a spanking new hostelry, the 
Hotel Bora-Bora, replete with сі 
Polynesianstyle bungalows on ten acres 


cent lagoon in Pacific 

Апош untrod. 
uopic paradise is the Korolevu Beach 
Hotel on Viti Levu, main island of the 
Fiji group. lty is torchlit, pulse- 
pound dances (not for real). 
erves a longer visit than the 
usual eighteen-hour Hong Kong-lerry- 
шір-ріш-сізіпо routine it receives from 
most tourists. Best way to get to know 
to take the time to wander its t 
lined waterfront and quaint streets while 
your lv the Tai Yip 
Hotel. style rooms 


їз out 


ach of its c 


sloc-cyed. miss who'll remove your shoes 


panese-style before you enter. 
For all its primitive charm, the lush 
green isle of Ba verthe- 


n Iudoncsia. 


less offers first-class accommodations. at 
the Segara Beach Hotel near the capital, 
Den Pasar. You can do all of your sight 
secing comfortably from here — although 
Bali's most famous sights are now, more 
often than not, demurely clad — and en 
joy the benefits of а fine beach plus sail 
g and fishi 

A far less primitive, but almost equally 
untrammeled isle, Ceylon, boasts a finc 
resort hotel within relatively casy reach 
of major tourist cities — the Mount La 
vinia Hotel overlooking the sea cight 
s from Colombo. 

Our own favorite spot in Geylon, how 
a—is five hours by 
Gir up into the mountains. The English 
style hotels of this hill si and, 
Grosvenor and Saint Andrews — oller 
superb service by white-clad bearers in 
red 


shes and turk 


he route up to the Moon Plains 


experience in itself The wiin climbs 
from the tropical lowlands through the 
Kadugannawa Pass for a superb view over 


the stunning Vale of Okande, then rolls 
across huge chasms over girder bridges to 
the town of Nanwoya, where you change 
to а car and follow the valley of the 
Nanu-oya River, through more fantastic 
scenery, on into the upland moor. Which 
makes an appropriate grand 
а month of unbeatable off-the-be: 
wracking. 

For further information on any of the 
above, write to Playboy Reader Ser 
232 E. Ohio St. Chicago 11. Hlinois 


ice, 


NEXT MONTH: 


“A SHORT HISTORY ОҒ SWEARING”—PLAYBOY'S SCHOLARLY WIT 
DIS-CURSES ON MIGHTY OATHS AND BLASPHEMY— BY WILLIAM IVERSEN 


“HIGHWAY ROBBERY”—FOR THE UNDER-25 URBANITE, THE ROUTE 
TO AUTO INSURANCE IS A TRIP TO THE CLEANERS—BY JOHN KEATS 


“NUDE TWISTS FOR TIRED TV''—A PICTORIAL PITCH FOR TELEVISION 
ON AN UNCLOTHED CIRCUIT—BY JERRY YULSMAN 


“PLAYBOY'S PIGSKIN PREVIEW”—PRE-SEASON PICKS FOR THE TOP 
COLLEGE TEANS AND PLAYERS ACROSS THE NATION—BY ANSON MOUNT 


“THE LITTLE WORLD OF JIM MORAN”—THE ALL-TIME MAD PRINCE 
OF FLACKERY, FLUMMERY AND FLAPDOODLE—BY RICHARD GEHMAN 


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