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"THROUGH THE 
RACIAL LOOKING 
GLASS" BY 

NAT HENTOFF 

“HOW TO 

SUCCEED WITH 
WOMEN WITHOUT 
REALLY TRYING" 

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TAYLOR WILLINGHAM 
PLAYBOY HAS RECEIVED many a word of 
praise and criticism since it began pub- 
lishing cight-plus years ago and that is 
to be expected, since the magazine is 
controversial in concept and never has 
been intended to appeal to everyone. 

The praise has taken many forms and 
has come from many high places, but 
nonc has pleased us more than the re- 
cent comment by columnist Hugh Rus- 
sell Fraser in San Fi sco's Daily Com- 
mercial News, the West Coast's oldest 
and most prestigious business journal. 
We felt readers might enjoy a reprint- 
ing of Fraser's reaction to our March 
sue, so here it is: 

“Well, rLAvBov has at last made it! 
J never thought it would .. . 

“The magazine that was once chiefly 
noted for curvaceous, semi-nude blondes, 
all displayed in good taste, has now be- 
ual maga- 


come one of the most intelle 


zines in Americal 
Congratulations are in order. 

“Never having met its editor, Hugh Hef- 
ner, nevertheless 1 assure you his achieve- 
ment is one of the wonders of the age. 

“While the Saturday Review still holds 
the top position, PLAYnoY is now second, 
Harper's thiid, Esquire fourth, Atlantic 
fifth, and The New Yorker sixth, in con- 
tent, range, varicty and significance of 
ideas dealing with the contemporary 
scene. 

“The March issue comes close to being 
a sheer work of art. For a magazine de- 
voted to ‘Entertainment for Меп, it is 
strangely concerned with two things few 
men, and even fewer women, have any 
real interest in: namely, truth and 
beauty. Perhaps 1 should make an excep- 
tion of the glories of the supernormal 
female figure. Here most men are defi- 
nitely interested, or should be. (If they 
are not, they are too old and, for all 
practical purposes, have ccased to live, 
or are so badly repressed they should go 
home to mother, or are one of several 
varieties of sexual freaks.) 

“The color reproduction in the center 
of the magazine is of what is probably 
the most beautiful and stunning fei 
bosom north of the Rio Grande. It 
possessed by Pamela Anne Gordon, a 39- 
23-35 tourist attraction in Vancouver, 
now gaining her education at the Uni- 
versity of British Columbia. (I suggest 
that it is less important for her to gain 
an education than give an education — 


PLAYBILL 


via similar color photos — to millions of 
beauty-starved males around the world; 
after all, Pamela has something that few 
women have . . . and on her shoulders 
rests а heavy responsibility and obliga- 
tion to make the most of the fabulous 
gift the God of Truth and Beauty has 
bestowed upon her.) 

“Having drunk deep of this rare and 
costly wine, let us glance over the other 
pages. Here J. Paul Getty, the billionaire 
(tactfully the magazine does not remind 
us of the fact), has a thought-provok 
indicunent of The Vanishing Americans. 
He holds that ‘in the restless voice of dis- 
sent lies the key to a nation’s vitality and 
greatness And that dissent is disappear- 
ing. Indeed, it has almost disappe: 

“Even the goal of our educational sys- 
tem is to make us conformists. . . . Yet 
he is hopeful: ‘I'm convinced the Amer- 
ican people are ready to reclaim their 
minds and their na to take them 
back from the pressure groups, selfish 
norities and hucksters to whom they 
lost them by default in recent years.’ 
„. .. I do not share this view, but hi 
dictment of the lack of dissent is as long 
and detailed as it is absorbing. 

“In the same issue, Alfred Kazin, in 
my judgment the greatest living literary 
critic, examines The Love Cult, a slight 
misnomer, since what he is examining is 
not a cult but the whole general concept 
of love from Plato to Freud to the mod- 
ern psychiatrists. The role that it has 
played in Christian dogma, as he analyzes 
it, is especially impressive and is alone 
worth the price of the magazine. 

“Ben Hecht has an intriguing memoir; 
The Playboy Advisor tells us how to 
marry the boss’ girlfriend; Ernest Hem- 
ingway’s brother writes about his 
brother; and best of all Arthur C. 
Clarke’s article on The Hazards of 
Prophecy. Here is an analysis of the 
shortsightedness of men of science in 
the last half-century, the first of a series 
of amazing insights into the ‘expected’ 
and the ‘unexpected’ in science. 

“There are other articles of equally 
rich intellectual fare. But 1 do not have 
space here. 

“However, a new planet has swung 
into our universe of supcrior magazines. 
- .. And it bears the date of March 1962. 
A toast, therefore, gentlemen, to Amer- 
ica's newest star in the intellectual firma- 
ment —PLaynoy!” 


‚ 


і 
MEAD HENTOF 

And a toast to you, Mr. Fraser, for 
your laudatory comments. May we invite 
you — our readers—to enjoy the 
issue at hand? 

Lead off with Robert Lewis Taylor's 
sophisticated saga of a writer's sojourn 
in Hollywood — and its surprising after- 
math. Taylor, perhaps best known for 
Pulitzer Prize-winning Travels of 
Jaimie McPheeters, has some half-dozen 
tomes to his credit. He left The 
New Yorker, where he was a profile 
writer, to serve as Lieutenant Com- 
mander in the Navy during World War 
Il, has frec-lanced since. His latest book 
is A Journey to Matecumbe; his The 
Pilgrimage of Roger Haydock, in this 
issue, was written after a brief stint in 
Hollywood, working on the script for a 
movie based on his Pulitzer novel, “But 
any similarity between me and the hero 
of the story is purcly coincidental.” 
Turn next to Nat Hentoff's unflinch- 
ng view Through the Racial Looking 
Class at the Amer il 
march toward equality. 
aboard for Bus Story, the 


Then climb 
ale of a fateful 


encounter between virginity and cynical 
sexuality, which will constitute part of 
novel 


Eternal Fire, a massive new 


ham, author of End as a Man and pro- 
c scripter for such films as Paths of 
Glory, The Vikings and the Oscar-win- 
ning Bridge on the River Kwai. 

Next, survey The Sorry Plight of the 
Human Male, first installment of Shep- 
herd Mead's sagely satirical How to Suc 
ceed with Women Without Really 
Trying, the updated version of his sec- 
ond celebrated self-help guide, which 
de its debut in praynoy. (His first: 
How to Succeed in Business Without 
Really Trying, currently a Broadway 
smash and soon to be a motion picture.) 
Then heed J. Paul Getty's persuasi 
peal for A Sense of Values, an inflexible 
code of ethics, in professional and per- 
sonal life; and apprehend The Bandit, 
Ben Hecht's recollection of a killer's be- 
trayal by an ice-blooded moll. Next join 
our own Janet Pilgrim in Palm Springs, 
а six-page pictorial featuring PLAYBOY'S 
own office Playmate. Add a healthy 
helping of other fare for reading and 
viewing, and you'll have a potpourri 
which we hope will sustain your pleasure 
and Hugh Russell Fraser's high regard. 


2 
Racial Looking Gloss 


How to Succ 


Janet Pilgrim 


GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY питон, 23 к. 
оніо STREET, CHICAGO 11, ILLINOIS, RETURN POST- 
AGE MUST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS 


AMD PHCTOGRAPHE SUBMITTED IF THEY Ant To эк 
RETURNED AND NO RESPONSIDILITY CAN BE ASSUMED 
FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIALS. CONTENTS Сор. 
moneo © пове ву umu PUBLISHING co., тс. 
NOTHING MAY BE REPRINTED IN WHOLE OR IN PART 
WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUB- 
LISWER. ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE PEOPLE ANO 
PLACES IN THE FICTION AND SEMLFICTION In тш 
MAGAZINE AND ANY REAL PEOPLE AND PLACES IS 
PURELY COINCIDENTAL. CREDITS: COVER DESIGN 
MAS BY ENOTHE SROTAERS; P. з PHOTOS BY JERRY 
YULSMAN, MARVIN KONER, BEN REYNOLDS; P. 36-35 
тнотоз вт rimwov STUDIO, P. аз PHOTO BY 
BRONSTEIN: P. 31 DIVING BOARD BY OCEAN POOL. 


vol. 9, no. 7 — july, 1962 


CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


PLAYBILL... 3 
DEAR PLAYBOY. 7 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS... — TM LA 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR. — و‎ TRE ORENSE 7 
THE PILGRIMAGE OF ROGER HAYDOCK—fiction. „ROBERT LEWIS TAYLOR 32 


GROOMING GEAR—occoulerments.......... = ROBERT L GREEN 36 
..........CALDER WILUNGHAM 42 
THOMAS MARIO 45 
THE SORRY PLIGHT OF THE HUMAN MALE—satire...................SHEPHERD MEAD 46 


THE BANDIT—memoi 


BUS STORY—f. 


THE GALLEY CHEF—food. 


КЕК BEN HECHT 49 
— ROBERT L GREEN 50 


SUPER SALESGIRI—playboy's playmate of the month 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor. : 


4. C. THOMPSON 63 
NAT HENTOFF 64 
o. ROBERT CAROLA 69 
A SENSE OF ҮАШЏЕЅ—огіісіе. sess ~- J. PAUL GETTY 71 
JANET PILGRIM IN PALM SPRINGS—pictorial, Е е E 
WHO SHALL DWELL—fiction....... 


THROUGH THE RACIAL LOOKING GLASS—e 


WORD PLAY—humor....... 


H. C. MEAL 81 


THE HOMEBODY—«, 


JULES FEIFFER 82 
ЛА FONTAINE 85 
PATRICK CHASE 112 


THE CRAFTY LOVER—ribeld clas: 
PLAYBOY'S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK—travel.. 


HUGH M. HEFNER editor and publisher 
A. C. SPECTORSKY associate publisher and editorial director 
ARTHUR PAUL art director 


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


FRANK DE 15, JEREMY DOLE, MURRAY FISHER, TOM LOWNES, SHELDON WAX associate 
editors; ROBERT а. GREEN fashion director; DAVID TAYLOR associate fashion edito 
THOMAS MARIO food è drink editor; эллик силк travel editor; J. PAUL 
cerry consulting editor, business and finance; CHARLES BEAUMONT, RICHARD 
GEHMAN, WALTER GOODMAN, PAUL KRASNER, KEN W. PURDY contributing editors; 
ARLENE BOURAS сору editor; RAY WILLIAMS editorial assistant; BEV CHAMBERLAIN 
associate picture edilor; DON MONSTEIN, MARIO CASILLI, POMPEO POSAR, JERKY YULS 
MAN staff photographers; REID AUSTIN associate art director; Pw KAPLAN, Josen 
M. PACZEK assistant art directors; WALTER KRADENYCH, ELLEN PACZEK art a stants; 
JONN млзтио production manager; FERN MARTEL assistant. production manager * 
TOWARD. w. LEDERER advertising director; JULES KASE eastern advertising manage 
JOSEPH FALL midwestern advertising manager; часток Lowsrs m promotion di 
101; NELSON FUTCH promotion manager; DAN CZUBAK. promotion art director: HEL- 
мит LORsCH publicily manager; WENNY DUNN public relations manager; ANSON 
mount college bureau; тико FREDERICK personnel director; JANET reader 
service; WALTER J. полити subscription fulfillment manager; ELDON SELLERS 
Special projects; ROBERT S. PREUSS business manager and circulation director. 


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DEAR PLAYBOY 


EJ] лоскеѕѕ PLAYBOY MAGAZINE - 232 E. ОНО ST., CHICAGO 11, ILLINOIS 


CLOUDED REPORT 

Francoise Sagan is a girl of great tal- 
ent and I think you were right to pub- 
lish The Wonderful Clouds. 
ndré Maurois 
Neuillysur-Seine, France 


Re April's The Wonde 
the pointlessness of Miss $ 
is exceeded only by her bad writing. 
Rita Jennings 
Blue Springs, Missouri 


With the unhip, stupid and obscure 
first installment of The Wonderful 
Glouds by some French illite 
have hit a new low. 
Robert Е 
Columbus, Ohio 


My thanks to pLaynoy for once more 
proving it is ready, willing and able to 
publish fiction of the highest literary 
merit. Part I of The Wonderful Clouds 
left me cager an's 
conclusion, 


to read author Si 


John Eldridge 
Boston, Massachusetts 


Françoise Sagan's novelette on Topic 

cinated me. Its chief attraction 
fact that a girl who had so little 
fun in the hay kept working in it all 
the time. [t's not a new wrinkle but T 
hunch its becoming the new 
nhood. 


Ben Hecht 
Nyack, New York 


PARIS PLAUDITS 
About your views on Paris— every 
word concerning the town is right. 
Porfirio Rubirosa 
New York, New York 


Congratulations on an excellent run- 
down of the Gity of Light, but one cor- 
rection must be made. The first drink at 
Le Crazy Horse is not $3, but $5.60. 
Richard Godosky 
New York, New York 


FOLK SONGS 
1 greatly enjoyed reading Larry Si 


gel's Folk Songs for Moderns in your 


April issue. Without I 
found the songs deft, inc id amus- 
ing. However, I am fully in disagreement 
with the message of the introduction: 


ot only do most of toda 
not mirror our age, but they have 
they can do to retain their popu 
Tomorrow." Folk songs are not an 
tique form. Not only аге the old songs 
being rewritten to mirror contemporary 
trends, but new songs are being created 
every hour. Have you never heard of 
Strontium 90: 

What will the future bring to me? 
No head, two heads, maybe three? 
And the like of Jimmy Hoffa has been 
considered. folk-song-wise in a song that 
George Armstrong of Chicago learned 
from Fleming Brown who heard it in 
Southern Illinois: 
Union's great, union's strong; 
Helped us workers get along. 
But a bunch of pickets 

around; 

Beat me bloody to the ground. 
Furthermore, there hundreds of 
songs like Talking Atom, The Foggy 
Dewey, Spaceman's Revenge, etc, We're 
happy to welcome Siegel's selections to 
this great body of material, but let us 
never deny its existence 

Oscar Brand 
New York, New York 

While deferring lo you as one of the 
foremost of con- 
temporary folk ballads, Oscar, we must 
still agree with our original statement, 
10 wil: most "pop" songs loday are 
completely unrelated to lije and com- 
pletely devoid of the qualities that 
endure. 


came 


are 


country’s purveyors 


FROST BITTEN 

Although 1 realize your magazine is 
1 to be "Entertainment for Men,” 
I thought you might be interested in 
hearing from one of your undoubtedly 
numerous female readers. You should 
take a deep bow for Vance Aandahl's 
Adam Frost. It's one of the finest short 
stories I've read. It should put the ai 
raid-shelter people ош of busine 


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PLAYBOY 


Eventual! А 
why not now? 


Many years ago General Mills originated this great 
slogan for its Gold Medal Flour. We admireit so highly that 
we are “borrowing” it (with permission, our lawyers in- 
sist), because it so perfectly states the case for bourbon. 


99 


The case is this: a clear and growing trend to Kentucky 
straight bourbon is sweeping the country. We have always 
said that eventually everyone will discover that bourbon 
“tastes better.” So, we say, “why not now?” 


Kentucky bourbon has a taste as simple 
and pleasing as the natural grains of its origin. 
At its modern 86 proof it is as mild as most 
domestic or imported whiskies. It is so smooth 
and honest in character that many people don't 
want to change its taste with mixers. They 
drink their bourbon with pure water—or “branch.” 


Nae 


Of the many wonderful, light, mild bourbons of Ken- 
tucky, more people prefer Old Crow to any of 
the others. This is quite a recommendation 
when you think of it. But then, great men of 
America's past— HENRY CLAY for instance— 
have testified to Old Crow's greatness since the 
year 1835. It was and is the ideal of what a 
straight Kentucky bourbon should be. 


Kentucky Bourbon 


THE OLD CROW DISTILLERY CO., FRANKFORT, KY. KENTUCKY STRAIGHT BOURBCH WHISKEY, 86 PROOF 


(hoorah, hoorah). Who would want to 
survive in a world like that? 
Gail Pollard 
Kearny, New Jersey 


Glad to see your соп 
im both science and scien 
evidenced by the g April issue. 
Arthur Clarke docs his usual fine job of 
exposition, and as for Vance Aandahl — 
he is the most. 
come across in my 
voted sf reading. Let's have morc. 

Richard P. Adler 
Cambr Massachusetts 


ges 


CINEMA RERUN 
Ginema on a Shoestring shows Mr. 
Knight to have high insight and under 
standing of his subject. It is encourag- 
ing that such comprehensive coverage of 
the subject of motion pictures is in- 
cluded in your publication, and I'm 
sure it will lead others to deal more 
honestly with the importance of thc 
medium itself. When those who "use" 
the medium to make money are made 
to realize that the true worth of the 
picture industry lies in the good it can 
do rather than in the money it can 
іепсе can en- 
and unlimited supply 
of movies which challenge the ir 
tion and stimulate th ca of 
and intellectual understanding 
Мапу avoided by cliché-happy pro. 
ducers who allow their fear of box-office 
failure to smother their creative 
stincts. In the meantime, we co 
scratch the surface of motion- 

al with the hope that our store 
ergy is not used up constantly fight- 
ing the accountants and the ibutors 
of the business for the chance to make 
worthwhile films. 

Maurice McEndree, Producer 

Shadows 

The Stanley Kramer € 

Universal City, Califor 


rporation 


The article Cinema оп a Shoestring, 
by Arthur Knight, is the first that I've 
read anywhere that gives an accurate 
and perceptive view of what's happ 
ing in the world of low-budget films. It 
is remarkably free of the rom: 
d glibness that usually с 
such articles. Arth 
edgeable, intelligent, sympathetic and 
thorough reporter. As one who has been 
involved in а few of the pictures ће 
mentioned, 1 was particularly excited to 
read an honest account of what these 
people are trying to do. And his notion 
that Hollywood 


ion that many low-budget 
't come to. Please give 
us more of the same inside, straight, in- 
tclligent reporting. 

Stanley E. Russell 
New York, New York 


(©1002 REVLON, INC. 


it doesn’t show yet 
but he’s losing his hair! 


(and chances are if you’re over 25 so are you!) 


It’s one thing to lose your hair naturally, but why 
rush things with an unhealthy scalp? Your hair- 
dressing may keep your hair neat, but does it keep 
your scalp healthy, too? ‘Top Brass’ moisturizes to 
stop dry scalp, with no greasy build-up. Andit's medi- 
cated to fight dandruff. Get "Top Brass’ in the tube 
or the new cream-liquid in plastic squeeze bottle. 


PLAYBOY 


10 


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OUTSIDE THE U.S. AND CANADA 


TAXFUL APPROACH 

The way Dedini p: 
April cartoon concerni, 
Scrvice, life certainly can be pleasant 
for the excise-tax collectors. 


ts things with his 


ner of Internal Revenue 
U.S. Treasury Department 
Washington, D.C. 


POST MORTEM 
Congratulations on the PLAYBOY story 
in The Saturday Evening Post. While 
it was predictably colored to suit the 
prejudices of that magazine's middle. 
clas, middle-brow, lle-aged audi- 
ence, it is a real tribute to you and what 
you have accomplished to have the ar- 
ticle there at all. 
Maurice Hammond 
San Francisco, California. 


1 had heard The Saturday Evening 
Post was in trouble— down in both 
newsstand circulation and advertising 
— but I didn't guess how serious the 
trouble must be until I tasted the sour 
grapes in their profile on rrAvsov. They 
would apparently like to pretend that 
your success is based on nothing but sex, 
unable to understand the social revolu- 
tion that has taken place in this coun- 
try over the last generation, and why 
PLAYBOY prospers while the Post floun- 
ders. “The Influentials" — a pet Saturday 
Evening Post phrase for those in ou 
society who influence the taste and think 
ing of others around them and who the 
Post's promotion department would like 
to pretend are readers of that tired pu 
lication — are actually reading rLavsoy. 

Clifford Partch 
Milv e, Wisconsin 


Kindly keep your smut out of The 
Saturday Evening Post. It is enough to 
have you spreading your filth in your 

ine without putting it in an 
artical in a decent magazine like The 
Saturday Evening Post. 


(Unsigned) 

Toledo, Ohio 

We didn't write the “artical,” lady. 

(You are a lady, aren't you, oh mysteri- 

ous, unsigned stranger?) "The Saturday 

Evening Post" will have io take the 

responsibility for this particular batch 
of “smut” and “filth.” Sorry. 


I enjoyed reading about you in Czar 
of the Bunny Empire in the April 28th 
issue of The Saturday Evening Post. It 
is probably the ultimate compliment to 
both eLavmov and its publisher that 
what was seemingly intended as а 
hatchet job actually failed to injure 
y part of your success story or its 
significance: The article states that 
Editor-Publisher Hefner is “cash-register 
oriented" and his playboy world largely 
a press agent's gimmick, but everything 
about PLAYBOY — from the earliest issues 


P 
"FOR THE NERO-MINDED." The newest 
candidate for royalty (joi ig music's elite 
"Kings," "Counts" and Dukes”) is this 
positively supreme popular pianist. Classi- 
cism, humor and inventiveness are wove 
brilliantly in standards like ‘Yesterdays, 
le Girl Blue” and the great new "Moon 
River." Hail Nero's newest... and greates 


GU ай “ee 


PETER NERO 


As 


AVAILABLE IN LIVING STEREO AND MONAURAL HI-FI 


RCA VICTOR QN 


fime mest trusted name in sound 


—has obviously been a labor of love 
and something you fellows take a great 
deal of pride aud pleasure in doing. 
The Post wies to convince its readers 
chief contribution to 
is built around photo- 
toons of naked young 
ғ on such subjects 
ching (with photos of 
bu: out of archaic 
thtubs).” but anyone who has ever 
bothered to sit down and actually read 
the magazine knows how high your ed 
torial stand how many impoi 
tant. pieces of fiction by top writers you 
have published. and how wide is the 
range of interests in your а 
discerning chap might ev 
ilarity between the Post's i t 
On the Way Up, and rtAvsov's pop 
ular On the Scene, and speculate on 
whether the contemporary 
sign introduced into the Post a 
few months ago wasnt partly inspired 
and strongly influenced by the moder 
azine illustrations 
have been winn 
awards for PLAYHoY for eigi 
might even wonder whether 
publicity and advertising th 
PLAYBOY article wasn't designed to boost 
the ag Post sales by wading on the 
popularity of the very publication they 
were editorially putting down. 
Simon Jalle 

Chi Ilinois 

We were pleased to have тїлүзөүз 
story told in “The Saturday Evening 
Post” and sorry only that it proved хо 
inaccurate in the writing: we counted 
over Iwo dozen misquotes and. misstate- 
ments. More than S100000 was spent 
promoting Ihe article through newspaper 
ads, television, newsstand display cards, 
a full-page ad їп “The New Yorker"; 
the issue sold 10 percent above normal. 
For a somewhat different and, we feel, 
fairer view of vravwoy's editorial con 
tent, read the Hugh Russell Fraser col- 
umn reprinted in “Playbill” in this issue. 


om nudes stepp 


rds are, 


Enclosed is a copy of a letter 1 have 
written to The Saturday Evening Post 
on their notso-subtle character as 
tion, You might do readers of Cur 
pub service by sendi 
all a reprint of your now near-classic 
ticle, The Pious Pornographers. 
Gentlemen: 

The flavor of sour grapes is evident 
Bill Davidson's article on Hugh Hel 
ner and his PLaywoy enterprises, as in 
almost everything else printed about 
Hefner to date. The implication that 
pLavnoy'’s chief contribution to Amer- 
an culture is refined р iphy pro- 
vides eloquent testimony of author 
idson's lack of acquaintance with 
Aywoy’s increasingly excellent literary 
content. 

"Hugh Hefner has the consid 


tions 


able 


E an 

Amstel is Holland. Amstel is 
а sun-filled room and a tiled 
stove. Have some Amstel Beer 
tonight. There's contentment 
—there's the good life that the 
Dutch live—in every hearty 
draught: 


AMSTEL OF AMSTERDAM 


—by Appointment to H. R.H. 
the Prince of the Netherlands. 


Corporation, New York 1, New York 


1 


PLAYBOY 


12 


Why more than 1,500,000 families find 
America's greatest home 


80. Secret Love, It 
Gould Happen te You, 
Tammy, Misty, etc. 


TERNER 1 LOEWE 


Came fot 


because the Club offers the biggest hits from 
Columbia—Mercury—Kapp—Liberty— 
United Artists— Warner Brothers—Epic 
and many other record companiest 


...from every field of 
entertainment: Classical— 
Listening and Dancing— 


"One of modern 
music's Ihing monu- 
ments. 


WC Uer TCHAIKOVSKY: TIM 
JOHNNY 1872 Overture fE Broadway, Movies, 
MATHIS Capriccio Television and 


Musical Comedies— 
Country and Western— 
Jazz—Humorl 


5. Also: Johnny One 182. “The most ex. 52. Take Five, Three 53. Blue Shadows in 
Rote: Ney. teok Me citing reading ve Every the Street, Its а 
Over, ete ever Hi-fi body's Jumpin’, ete. Raggy Waltz, ete. 


JOHNNY HORTONS I SHOSTAKOVITCH METTEN а! 
GREATEST HITS (SYMPHONY no.s BERI? I 

h 
pos 
of Tet 
‘CHUBBY 
[pedea | CHECKER 


ir A eg wine RAY 
SEES [RAV CONNIFF] RAY CONMIFE 


12. Also: Comanche, 195. "Best perform. 82. Chubbys best. 
Johnny et TheMar. ance of this we ever selling album. (Not 
Sion Tou Stole, etc. heard” — Newsweek available In stereo} 


68. му Little Grass 
‘Shack Cha Cha Cha, 
Happy Тай, 10 more 


TT. Alvin's Harmoni. 44, m Always chas: 225. Also: No Other 
са; Old MacDonald ing Rainbows, sere. Love. Three Ceins in 
Съ Спаспа 0 тое nade, 12 im all the Fountain, et 


HANDEL: 
MESSIAH 


LEONAD BENSTUN. 
нҮ. PUURNORC 


1. That Old Gang of 9. By the Beautitul 
Nine, Sweet Violets, Sea, The Sweetheart 
18 big hits in aM” of Sigma Chi, ete 


SE. “Exquisite 57. Also: I'm in the G6. The Hucklebuck. 
Blitters throughout? Mood for Love, Easy Wild Ore, eic. (Nol 
Playboy Magazine Street, Laura, ele. available in stereo} 


FRANNIE 
LAINE 
p" 


STEVE LAWRENCE 
EYDE CORME 


Two on the Aisle 


HAPPY MOODS 
[ARGO] 


22 


7 n 
Soldiers. Rock ef Warid, Cunt 
мез, 12in all rone, Maria, 


ва. Namely You, Pul 
On a Happy Face, A 
Lot of Livi, ete 


35. ГИ Never 
Loving You, For АП 
We Know, B more 


15. Also: Rawhide 
Wasted Man. The 
3:10 16 Yuma, ete 


Rapsodie Espagnole 


со soum 12 QUARTET Т 
ОҒ THE BORDER Y ied 
(N itere 
Tommy Garrett f © to say? 


43. Just because, 1 122. My Funny д 78. Also: Moorligh 17. Cathy's Clown, A 
Walk the Line, Jea- tine. Justin Time, compelling.” — New inVermont Whatever Change of Heart Love 
Tue Heart, 9 mor plus ë тоге ћи ^ York Herald Tribune Lala Wants, ete Ките Lucale, ete 


"BEETHOVEN 


Violin Concerto FOLK SONGS and 


DRINKING SONGS. 


IE BROTHERS FOUR] 


sms 


KOSTELANETZ. 18AAC гот GERMANY 
voran. ткан 
j 
каво cem cs Pal 


Caravan 
Irt 


ari Sr oF d FINA 


E 108 т 
94 Alse: Am I Blue, 28. “Lighthearted, 168. Also. Londonder- 
Wrap Your Troubles winningintormality” ry Air, Blessed Are 
in reams, elc. HiFi Stereo Review They that Mourn, ele. 


tndessly 9 More 


31. Also: So Close, 
шешп inside, 56 
Many Ways, ete: 


тв Nery highly 
Awer, Record Guide 


11. Also: The McCoy, 199. 
Morgen, Му Own True singing 
tove, Nome, ele. utterly’ 


membership in the COLUMBIA RECORD CLUB 
entertainment value! 


AS A NEW MEMBER YOU MAY TAKE 


ANY6 


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


REGULAR $ І 8 © 


HIGH-FIDELITY 
[RETAIL VALI 
Kod or [er 


...the greatest values ever offered 
by any record club! 


HERE'S A WONDERFUL OPPORTUNITY TO JOIN ALONG 
with the more than 1.500.000 families who now enjoy the 
exciting entertainment and fabulous sevings available to 
them as members of the world's largest record club. By 
joining now, you can have your choice of ANY SIX of the 7B 
‘outstanding records shown on these two pages — up to a 
$36.88 retail value — ALL SIX for only $1.89. What's more, 


or STEREO 


you'll also receive a handy record brush and cleaning cloth 
— ап additional value of $1.19 — absolutely FREE! 


ТО RECEIVE YOUR 6 RECORDS FOR ONLY $1.89 — fill in 
and тай the attached postage-paid air-mall card today. 
Be sure to indicate whether you want your 6 records (and 
all future selections) in regular high-fidelity or stereo. 
Also indicate which Club Division best suits your musical 
taste: Classical; Listening and Dancing; Broadway, Movies, 
Television and Musical Comedies; Jazz. 


Record Brush and Cleaning Cloth 


if you join the Club now and agree to purchase 
as few as 6 selections from the more than 400 
to be made available during the coming 12 months 


Insure true-fidelity sound reproduction and prolong 
the life of your records and needle with these handy 
accessories. Specially treated cloth picks up surface 
dust; brush keeps grit out of grooves. A $1.19 VALUE 


HOW THE CLUB OPERATES: Each month the Club's staff 
‘of music experts selects outstanding records from every 
field of music. These selections are fully described in the 
Club's music Magazine, which you receive free each month. 


You may accept the monthly selection for your Division 
. . . ог take any of the wide variety of other records of- 
fered in the Magazine, from all Divisions . . . or take no 
record in any particular month. Your only membership 
obligation is to purchase six selections from the more than 
400 to be offered in the coming 12 months. Thereafter, 
you have no obligation to buy any additional records . . 
and you may discontinue membership at any time. 

FREE BONUS RECORDS GIVEN REGULARLY. If you wish to 
continue as a member after purchasing six records, you 
will receive — FREE — a bonus record of your choice for 
every two additional selections you buy! 

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


MAIL THE POSTAGE-PAID AIR-MAIL CARD to receive 6 
records — plus a FREE brush and cloth — for only $1.89. 


IMPORTANT NOTE: Stereo records must be played only 
оп a stereo record player. If you do not now own опе, by 
all means continue to acquire regular high-fidelity rec- 
ords. The play with true-to-life fidelity on your 
present phonograph and will sound even more brilliant 
оп a Stereo phonograph И you purchase one in the future. 


More than 1,500,000 families now belong 
fo the world's largest record club 


COLUMBIA RECORD CLUB 


Terre Haute, Indiana 


WHO'S WHO WIRE г тте 
"онако sixnes | [GREAT cece THEMES | | toma 
ТЕ 
Бийск STI. 
“SMILES DAVIS. THE APARTMENT. m 
«unica, | Ps 13 more DEL 


LIONEL HAMPTON 
шуш | 


THE PLATTERS 


Encore of Golden Hits 


Tota T 


1. Also: Great Pre 
tender. Enchanted. 


MORE илт ы | [CLAIR de LUNE | BETS [Rocer wittiams 
А Debussy IN MOSCOW PRECARIA 
Fano Recital by Айша nere. 


'PHUPPESEKTREMON. 
F E 


F 
174. "extraordinarily 
ain Я 
ven н Tines 


232. Puttin’ on the 
Ritz, American Pa- 


25. Also: September 
Song. | Cot Rhythm, 


Magie touch’ ete trol 12 ait Waning Yeu, c. 
[SOUTH PACIFIC) PETION имму DEAN] [асанов 
MARTIN PINZA pig BAD | | Up a Lazy River 


141. Complete score 
of the hit shaw. (Hot 
Svailable in stereo) 


SUTE == 


JOHN 


and other 
Toute 


‘rican wanz 
Colculla-5 Moro 
51 ENTNER 


172, Tw briliant 
musical painting з 
fn American cassie 


1a, Smoke. Smoke 
That Cigarette: 16 
Tons; 10 more 


52. also: Tenderly, 
Save the Last Dance. 
For Me, ес. 


ding: 
Excellent ен Rev. 


104. Also: The Third 
Man Theme, Rumble, 
Homy-Tonk, ete. 


Yet neon AE 


Lj. teuasrer |. 


TEST 


каг 
GREATEST THEMES 


GOLDEN PIANO HITS 


Ferrante £ Teicher 


35. Odds Against To. 
Central Park ete 


HAWAII 
Ibe Fabulous 
SO State 


119. King Kamehame- 


ha, Blue Hawai 
cross mesta, more. 


(NES 
58. I'U Find You, You 177. “Electrifying д7 Romance, Theme 46 Also: Mear You, 
Stepped wut af a performance.. overs irom Ihe apartment, Autumn Leaves, Exo: 


Oream, 10 more Love Atlair, 9 more dus, "Tl, ele. 
BEETHOVEN 


Plano Concerto No. 5 


[TET 


JOHNNY, 
uw A 
far t an one m 


типи. ии tte 
uS 1 ОИУ 


12. Also: One More 
Ride, T Stil Miss 
Someone, ete. 


186. Five of Bach's 
mightiest and most 
OBUIBE works 


183. "Distinguish 
Nreshoess, vitality.” 
hg Fidelity 


Thing, 5 more 
@ Mareas Nog. © Columbia Record Club, Ine., 1962 212 


(B "Columbia," Q. "Epic 


PLAYBOY 


16 


What does it take to 
heat the Triumph TR-3? 


The Triumph TR-3 is the most popular sports car in Amerlca—virtually unbeatable until this year. 
GA” That's when they brought out the TR-4. the TR-3's new companion. Drive it. It's even more exciting 
and easier to handle. For one thing, lorque or thrust, is high at all speeds. So the TR-4 does equally 
well al a modest 50 or a thundering 100. The track is wider, so the cornering is flatter. The 
steering system is as easy as power steering, but far more responsive. All forward gears, including 
‘st, have synchromesh for effortless shifting. The windows roll up. The top is rain-proof. And the 
price is a mere $2849." III There are Triumph dealers in all 50 states—over 550 in all. One lives 


near you. Drop in and ask for a test drive. See how much fun driving can be. | TRIUMPH 4 


ЖР. plus state and/or local taxes. Slightly higher in West, Standard -Triumph Motor Co., Ine., 575 Madison Avenue, Now York 22, N.Y. 
їп Canada: Standard-Triumph (Canada) Lid., M63 Eglinton Avenue West, Toronto 10, Ort, 


distinction of being an updated Horatio 
Alger story —a man whose beliel, deter 
mination and hard work have brought 
him success in full measure. He enjoys 
his work, has infinite freedom of self- 
expression, and is surrounded by the 
conditions and people he likes best. 
How pathetically few others in this age 
of enlightenment and progress can say 
the same, 

“Vive le cotton 
Stephen E. Thomas 
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 

Thanks, Steve. For some inexplicable 

reason, the “Post” chose not to publish 
your leiter. 


The Saturday Evening Post story was 
a crock. 
Jack Olsen 
Sports Illustrated 
New York, New York 


NEW YORK PLAYBOY CLUB 

I'm sure by this time several hundred 
readers have sent you a copy of the full- 
page Playboy Club cartoon in a recent 
issue of The New Yorker. The fact that 
your Playboy Club Bunnies have become 


He met her in some Chicago key club, 1 understand,” 
The New Yorker, ©1902 by The New Yorker Magazine, tne. 


so well known that most everyone here 
and across the country who reads ТАУ 
understands this subtle bit of humor is a 
tremendous tribute to you. The very 
presence of this cartoon in The New 
Yorker also give you some idea of 
just how much preopening interest the 
Playboy Club is generating in this usu- 
ally blasé town. Just when can New York 
keyholders expect their Club to be ready? 
Robert Lloyd 
New York, New York 
4 cement workers strike and other 
construction complications delayed the 
opening, but the Manhattan branch of 
Playboy Clubs International will be com- 
pleted by late summer and the official 
opening is scheduled for October Ith. 


PLAYHOY AFTER HOURS 


J Jot look at the contents page of this 
ssue, you'll see you are holding the 
seventh issue of Volume 9 (ї.е., the July 
issue of our ninth year), a conjunction of 
mystic numbers which led our tireless 
search department to sources of antiq- 
uity and legend, both common and ar- 
cane, concerning them. 

Let's start with nine. We can't tell you 
why a stitch in time saves nine (and not 
cight or 10), but we can tell you what is 
meant by "possession is nine points of 
the law.” In the folklore of jurispru- 
dence, the nine are: a good deal of 
y. a good deal of patience, a good 
a good lawyer, good counsel, good 
good jury, a good judge, 
peaking of law, there 
as every schoolboy knows, nine Supreme 
Court Justices. 

You knew how many men per team, 
and how many innings per game the 
ational pastime calls for. If you don't 
ow the number of months required for 


human tion, you shouldn't be 
reading this magazine. 
Prometheus advised Deucalion to con- 


struct an ark, which tossed about for 
nine days before grounding on the top 


of Mount Parnassus. When you see the 


expression "Ше Nine" it refers to the 
Muses. There were nine virgin priestesses 
of the ancient Gallic oracle. 

ОГ Lars Ромеа — whoever he is— 
Macaulay, in his Lays of Ancient Rome, 
said, "By the nine gods he swore/Th: 
the great house of Tarquin /Should suffer 
wrong no more.” The nine gods wer 
Juno, Minerva, Tinia, Vulcan, Mars, Sat- 
urn, Hercules, Summanus and Vedius. 
The ancient Sabines also had nim 
Hercules, Romulus, Esculapius, Bacchus, 
Aeneas, Vesta, Santa, Fortuna, Fides. 

Cats have nine lives, The “nine-tail 
bruiser” is English prison slang for the 
cat-o-ninc-tails. 


In Ptolemy's system of astronomy there 

were nine spheres: Moon, Mercury, 
Venus, Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, the 
Firmament of fixed stars, and the Crys 
line Sphere. 
Hell has nine rivers, according to some 
sources: others claim that the River Styx 
enclosed the infernal regions in nine 
circles. According to Milton (John Mil- 
ton, not Milton Eisenhower) the gates of 
hell are “thrice threefold.” 

In Scandinavian mythology, there were 
nine carths, and Odin had a priceless 
ring which miraculously produced eight 
other rings (making nine in all) every 
ninth night 
Something that is sensational but brief 
commonly called — or w a nine 
days wonder." The Abracadabra, a cab- 
alistic charm, was worn nine days and 
then flung into а river. 

In the folklore of the British Isles, 
sure cure for a sprained ankle is to tie 
nine knots in a thread of black wool. 

There are nine orders of angels; there 
are nine "marks of cadency" in heraldr 
and nine crowns are recognized, 


Nine crosses figure in ecclesiastical 
architecture: the crosses of altar, proces- 


sional, roods on lofts, reliquary, consecra- 
tion, pectoral, spire, pendent over altars 
and marking crosses. 
A nifty way of performing some math- 
ematical operations is known as "casting 
out nines” — which we will herewith do, 
and proceed to the mystic number seven. 
There are, traditionally, seven arts; 
seven wonders of the world; seven sor- 
rows; seven virtues (faith, hope, charity, 
prudence, justice, fortitude, temperance) 
and seven deadly sins (pride, wrath, envy, 
lust, gluttony, avarice, sloth). 
Christ spoke seven times on the cross. 
According to the ancient Hebrews, 
there are seven names of God. According 
to John Ruskin, there are seven lamps of 


architecture. You should be able to name 
the seven seas. The Pleiades, a constella 
tion, was known as the Seven Siste 

There are seven heavens; ancient 
Rome was built on seve з and was 
referred to as the Seven-Hilled City. In 
Japanese folklore there are seven gods 
of luck; there is a Spanish fable that dur- 
ing the Moorish invasion seven bishops 
left Spain and founded seven cities, a 
kind of never-never land known as “The 
Island of the Seven Cities.” There are 
seven gifts of the spirit (wisdom, under- 
standing, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, 
righteousness, Godly fear); there 
Seven Churches of Asia; in medieval 
times the patron saints of England were 
known as The Seven Champions, and ac- 
cording to ancient astrologers the num- 
ber of the planets was seven. 

There are seven bodies in alchemy: 
Sun (gold), Moon (silver), Mars (iron), 
Mercury (quicksilver), Saturn (lead), 
Jupiter (tin), Venus (copper). It was once 
believed that man is composed of seven 
substances and has Seven Natures, not 
to be confused with the Seven Senses. 

The “Seven Against Thebes” were war 
heroes who fought to restore the son of 
Oedipus to the throne. The Seven Ві 
ops were thrown in the clink for non- 
conformity in 1688. (They did not dig 
James H's Declaration of Indulgence.) 

The expression “The Seven" refers to 
those chosen by the Apostles to be the 
first Deacons. 

In the Apocalypse there are seven 
candlesticks, seven stars, tum- 
pets, seven spirits before the throne of 
God, seven horns, seven vials, seven 
plagues, a seven-headed monster, a 
seven-eyed lamb. 

The Hebrew verb “to swear” means 
literally “to come under the influence of 
seven thing: 

There are seven days in creation, seven 


are 


seven 


17 


PLAYBOY 


Stroke of Genius! 


Florida playboys improve jim-dandy formula 


-end fuss of mixing 432 Daiquiris! 


Our old formula went to 216 Dai- 
quiris—which seemed enough in the 
old days. But Florida playboys 
asked the logical question: suppose 
we invite fwice as many people? 
So in deference to right-thinking 
we publish this enlarged version of 
the remarkable little formula for 
mixing Daiquiris in batches! It is a 
masterpiece of clarity: (1) read 


BACARDI 
Iver Label 


Frozen 
Concentrato* 


DAIQUIRIS 


SHAKE OR STIR WITH ICE UNTIL VERY COLD 


* Limeade, lemonade cr Daiquiri Mis—if fresh fruit is 
used, substitute juice of ¥2 lime or lemon and 1⁄2 tsp. 
sugar for each 2 tsp. of concentrate; substitute juice 
of 9 limes or lemons and 3 tablespoons sugar for each 
сап of concentrate. Do not add sugar to concentrate 


(3) muster a Bacardi Daiquiri 
Party. Incredibly simple. 

Tip: the original Daiquiri was 
made with Bacardi — the best still 
are. Impress your friends by point- 
ing this out. You know—off- 


E BACARDI 


LEADER FOR 100 YEARS 


down for the number of Daiquiris, 


(2) read across for the ingredients, 


меин 


А man gets seen in 417 ! 


He hoists sail with the easy aplomb of a man who takes after the best (7 
р. Note three examples above. Not the 

pull-over. It has the cool feel of rich 
. the friendly air of freedom . . 
bent-for-action look. Easy comfort and confident good looks are the 
mark of Van Heusen's authentically styled "417" Collection of dress 
1g nd leisure shirts. You'll find them wherever fine men's wear is sold. ру VANH HEUSEN 


in sporting, women and clot! 
least is his Acrilan® knit “417 
cord-knit fabric , . 


. and that natural 


days in the week, seven graces, seven 
divisions in the Lord's Pra 
Geting back to the Hebrews, the 
seventh son of a seventh son was pi 
sumed to have ordinary pow 
every seventh year was sabbatical: seven 
jubilee; they had 


was commanded to Шр seven 
in the Jordan; Elijah sent H 
servant seven times to look for rain; 


Nebuchadnezzar а beast for seven 
years. In a dream, the Pharaoh saw 
nd seven cars of corn 


pshooter about the signif- 
icance of seven to him. Ask Nathaniel 
Hawthorne The House of the 
Seven Gable: sk rl Derr Bi 
gers if his Seven Keys to Baldpate 
guidebook to cranial depilation. Salome, 
her fervid ecdysiac gavotte, shed 
seven veils, gor paid off with a head tax 
on John the Baptist. 

Iy, seven priests with se 
arched around. Jericho once each 
but seven times on the seventh da 
mson's wedding feast lasted se 
and — pos 
por—he then told his bride what she 
wanted to know and was promptly 
bound with seven withes and had seven 
locks of his hair shorn, probably the 
most disastrous haircut in the archives of 
barbering. 

inc ics seven is 03 — which is 
tly 40 more than 23 skiddo 
we will now perform, having added copi. 
ously to your store of ci 
knowledge. 


n trum- 


e 


act 


nd useless 


Apparently the facts of modern life 
have begun to make themselves known 
—and profitable—even to real estate 
brokers. From an ad in The Tampa 
ion to the 
especially those with 


wise 
bride and groom 
small children . 


A recent feature story in Lake Placid's 


Adirondack Enterprise posed a thought 

intentional, qu 
preparedness, 
t asked gravel 
ic attack. came during the middle 


We are frequently struck by evidences 
of noncommunication in the communi- 
cations biz and suggest the ensuing 
be an a 
nomenon, as it n 
category of right h 
left hand is doi 
paper the other d: 
by the following senti 
¢ producer Freddi 


our eye was caught 


nts expressed by 


mov Brisson in an 


terview with columnist Irv Kupcinet: 
"Take my movie, Five Finger Exercise .. 
the story is one that could involve homo- 
sexualism, a triangle and even an Ocdi- 
pus complex. But this so-called realism is 
phony to me. I don't believe in the 
‘shock treatment.’ So I studiously avoided 
any of the sordid angles that presented 
themselves and tw ncd out a movie tha 
is entertainment for the entire family. 
The exhibitor's ad, for the same movie, 
in the same issue, carried the headline 
RE NOT A FAMILY 
BALS . . . WE DEVOUR FACI 


as follows. Boy with ha 
boys chest, caption: "You think love 
[inserted by the newspapers in place of 
the screenplay's original word 
will change you . .. make you diffe 
ing boy as man discovers 
"I'm sure we can have a 
really warm friendship . . . even with 
the difference in our ages!” Boy with 
hand over mother's mouth, caption: “I'm 
your son... I love you... but Tm a 
man in my own right!" Which struck us 
as an admirable attempt to avoid the 
sordid angles of “homosexualism, а tri- 
angle and even an Ocdipus complex." To 
be sure, we may be naive. Perhaps there 
was communication, out of which grew 
an agreement to cover all bases— or 
anyway, all kinds of families. 


ng message lo whom it may 
the London Post Office has an- 
nounced that maggots and earthworms 
may now be sent by ma 

From a McCall’ssponsored conven- 
tion of * “typical housewives” in Chica 
comes disquieting evidence that charity 
no longer begins т t home, if it ever did. 
During a panel discussion on drinking, 
reported The Miami Herald, “most of 
the women said they kept liquor and 
uests and served only beer to 


We note with pleasure the recent 
birth of a 10th child to a re 
e Missouri state а 


THEATER 


Six characters in search of an author 
found the right man in Herb Gardner, 
whose first play, A Thousand Clowns, will 
keep them gainfully employ: 
way until the laughter b. 
down a ycar or two from now. The star 
of this offbeatnik evening is Jason 
Robards, Jr, the straight actor with the 
crooked smile, who clowns for comedy 
as if he'd never heard of O'Neill or Hell- 
тап. He plays oddball writer Murray 


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86 PROOF 


HONESTY IS BACK. 


TELL YOUR NEIGHBOR. 


Peter, Paul and Mary sing folk 
music. Their first album is 
bright with enthusiasm. No 
gimmicks. Just sincerity. The 
kind of good sounds you'd 
expect from "an angel, and 
two cellos playing guitars." 


WARNER BROS. RECORDS (0 


BURBANK, CALIFORNIA 


Burns, lately the brewer of Chuckles and 
the Chipmunk, а TV decoction for 
kiddies, who threw up the job in more 
than one sense of the phrase. Now he is 
a nonworking nonconformist with one 
suit, one grubby New York flat (deco- 
rated in “Fun Gothic") and one 12-year- 
old nephew named Nick (Barry Gordon), 
whom he is bringing up to be a free soul 
like uncle. Life in Burnsville tends to be 
whimsical, but never sticky. When Mur- 
ray isn't at the movies, he is likely to be 
instructing his neighbors through the 
window on their garbage disposal, or 
phoning for weather reports so he can 
chide the recorded voices for repeating 
themselves. Such are the simple pleasures 
of the idle poor — until a pair of investi- 
gators from the Child Welfare Board 
barge in to check up on Nick's unortho- 
dox environment. The lady of the team 
(enchantingly played in an April storm 
of tears and giggles by Sandy Dennis) 
decides to make the uncle rather than 
the nephew her lifework. But her col 
league (William Daniels) sternly decrees 
that Nick must be removed unless Mur- 
ray goes back to work. As Murray's 
overwronght agent (A. Larry Haines) des- 
perately points out, the only job open to 
a writer of his client's known nuttincss 
is back there in the TV trees with the 
kiddies and the chipmunks and the 
schizoid Chuckles himself (Gene Saks in 
a convulsive caricature of a Pied Piper 
who hates little children) Murray's 
choice between losing cither Nick or his 
emancipated way of life doesn’t make 
for much of a contest as plays go. but 
Gardner's robust talent for comic obser- 
vation provides the needed vitamin sup- 
plement. At the Eugene O'Ncill, 230 
West 49th Street. 


No Strings is the first Broadway musical 
for which Richard Rodgers h 
the words to his own music, and the con 
bination is a good cut above anyth 
else the season has to offer. As produce 
Rodgers has promoted 
from the pit to mingle on: 
the actors, who, їп turn, take on the 
chorc of mov their own. lightweight, 
freeform scenery about from a Paris 


n by way of St 
‘Tropez and Monte Carlo. But Rodgers’ 
particular inspirati to provide a 
showcase for nightclub singer Diahann 
Сато hitherto unfulfilled personality. 
Miss Carroll does him proud — іп the 
circumstances. The circumstances are 
circumscribed by S; Taylors ill- 
tailored libretto. Richard Kiley, playing 
a Pulitzer Prize-w g novelist on the 
loose in Paris, falls in love with Y 
a Harlem-born haute couture fashion 
model, and the darling of the Left Bank, 
the Right Bank and her savings bank 
Not until ап iffy and unsatisfactory end- 
ing does any hint of racial self-conscious- 


ville and back 


ahann, 


ness enter the story. Instead, Taylor has 
patched together a problem calculated to 
leave the audience cold. It seems that 
poor Kiley has a severe case of writ 
block: the champagne call of the 
national set is stronger than the lure of 
his typewriter. Miss Carroll's problem 
might have been something to worry 
it isn't easy to give a damn 
writer who just doesn’t w 
Although director-chorcog; 
Joe Layton keeps his actors 
busily, these sub-Scott. Fitz 
types don't seem convinced that they are 
having а very gay time. Bernice Massi. а 
brassy Oklahoma oil heiress on a nvm- 
pho's holiday, belts out a. pair of loud 
numbers, and Noelle Adam, a blonde 
bonbon, sings from the heart of the 
Champs-Elysées a tickling tune called, 
naturally, La La La. But the best of No 
Strings stems from style, song and the 
es of the two princi- 
pals. Kiley's duets with his Diahann — 
among them such melodic memorabilia 
as Nobody Told Me and The Sweetest 
Sounds — are worth the price of the plot. 
The charming Miss Carroll carols from 
the dulcet to the low-down with a 
felicity that should deprive the night 
clubs of her lovely presence for many 
months to come. At the 54th Street 
‘Theater, 152 West 54th St. 


savvy performa 


RECORDINGS 


Billie Holiday —The Golden Yeors (Colum- 
bia) is one of the biggest batches of 
Billie reissued to date; it has the added. 
attraction of containing several pre- 
viously unreleased recordings (made with 
Basie's 1937 band) transcribed from radio 
performances. The Golden Years (193 
1941) finds Billie sin; 
own band, Benny Goodman's and Teddy 
Wilson's, as the extensively annotated 
3-LP package chronicles Billie blooming 
into her most productive years. Her ef- 
forts with Wilson, in particular, sound as 
lustrous today as when they were etched 
Love Letters (Liberty), the latest oliering 
of the indefatigable Julie London, sttys 
in the gende comehither groove she 
practically owns. The tunes are all stand 
ards or semistandards, each expertly cast 
in the Catching a 
Diahann Carroll performance in person 
is half the fun, but the other half is 
to be found on Showstopper! (Camden). 
Miss Carroll communicates, something 
many of todays carbon-copy contraltos 
have failed to achieve. The 
made up of evergreens, all made а little 
more verdant by dynamic Diahann. 

The Bridge (Victor). Sonny Rollins’ first 
cording im several years, bridges the 
p between Sonny's retirement from the 


ing in front of her 


London image. 


session is 


The New York Times described Islands in the Sun Club as "a service for non-con- 


formist trovelers ond the armchair tourist. 


" Members describe it as “out of this 


world," ond “the only club anywhere with a sense of humor." Eoch month we issue 
ап exclusive report on on exotic, get-awoy-from-it-all island. Because our special 


reporters call them as they see 
them, you will find the reports 
honest, chatty, personal, illus- 
trated, up-to-date, complete: 
How to get there, who and what 
you will find there, what to buy 
there {from baubles to land), 
where to dance ond lounge 
there, etc., etc., etc. Among the 
islands covered to date: Cozu- 
mel, Puerto Vallarta, Ibiza, 
Abaco, Mykonos, St. Lucia, Boja 
Colifornia, Jamaica. Other serv- 
ices for members: Clubhouses 
with discounts, travel service, in- 
suronce, buying service, charter 
flights, realty, Members’ Ex- 
chonge, business opportunities, 
and registered membership 
cards, We are confident you too 
will agree that there's nothing 
quite like Islands in the Sun Club. 
Welcome aboard! 


673 Fifth Avenue Suite 655 
New York 22, New York 


Gentlemen: 


[El I have enclosed my check for $15 for a year’s mem- 
bership. Please send me 12 monthly reports on exotic 
islonds of the world ond a FREE copy of your $6.95 
linen-bound volume on 12 unspoiled islands. | unde 
stand that 1 will be entitled to all ri. il 
Sf membership, and receive my regi 
cord. 
[П Pease enroll me. for а month triol membership, 
‘ond bill me for $875. 1 understand that | may re~ 
turn my report ond cancel my membership within 30 
doys without cost or obligo! 


(Pleose remit an extra $2.30 for non-U. S. membership.) 


Name. 


Address. 2 —— 


City. —Zone. State. 


Charge to Diner's Club account #. 


21 


PLAYBOY 


22 


How rare was a bottle 
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was the year Gordon's Gin first took 
its place in English life, but not in bottles. 


It was served from wooden casks in 
public houses. Bottles came along 
later, in the nineteenth century. But 
in all these 193 years, no matter how 
it was purveyed, Gordon's has always 
harked back to Alexander Gordon's 
original 1769 formula. Why tamper with 
such distinctive dryness and flavour? 
It has made Gordon's the best-selling 


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jazz scene and his return with a concise 
statement of just how he has grown dur- 
that period, Rollins has mellowed 
tonally and. matured thematically. Shar- 
ng the solo chores is guitarist Jim Hall, 
as Sonny wends his lyrical way through 
alf-dozen old-timers and originals. 
should be no further evidence re- 
а that Rollins was away too long. 


recall with any sort of warm 
(we do) the music of Jimmy 
Dorsey and the vocals of band singers 
Bob Eberly and Helen O'Connell, then 
you'll surely dig Remember Jimmy (Decca), 
а roundup of their best recordings. 
Included are Brazil, Green Eyes, Tange- 
vine and Amapola, and all those J. Dorsey 
numbers that make the prebop ега per- 
ennially memorable. 


Oscar Pettiford: Last Recordings by the Late 
Groot Bossier (Jazzland) is Volume 2 in 
that label's Classics of Modern Jats sc 
and while the session is historically im- 
L, the presence of a Copenhagen 
oup of nonexceptional talents with 
Peiford makes the effort [ar from 
classic final reminder of Oscar's 
monolithic bassplay wd his ability 
to add class to his surroundings, fine — 
but great jazz? No. 


Bags Meets Wes! (Riverside) is a terse 
title that says all. The vinyl mecting of 
Jackson and Mon 
prodigally fruitful, 
malleted Jackson vibes providing the per- 
fect contrast to Wes. lightning-fingered 
guitar. The Jones boys (Sam on bass and 
Philly Joe on drums) and Wynton Kel 
piano are plus factors as the quintet at- 
tacks a collection of jazz-born items, the 
oldie Stairway to the Stars, and movie 
theme Delilah 


Brash Bobby Darin, who believes that 
all thi are within his reach, may not 
be too far off the mark on Bobby Dorin 
Sings Ray Charles (Atco). Bobby rates 
Rayve notices for his firm grasp of the 
rles idiom. Included are What'd F 
Say. Hallelujah 1 Love Her So and 
Thats Enough, which is more than 
enough. The wn, a first 
quality quartet, turns its attentions to 
the standout tunes of other vocal groups 
in Stars in Our Eyes (C: apitol). and the songs 
covered ally g: something in the 
transition. The boys have ranged as tar 
eld as the Four Coins’ Shangri 
and the Four Aces Love Is a Many 
Splendored Thing for material and 
returned in harmonic triumph. Sammy 
Davis, Jr., Belts the Best of Broadway (Reprise) 
tells only half the stor E 
Saminy does some be: 
бо сойп{етБа!арсе the swinge- on hands 
in the former category: My Romance 
from Jumbo, We Kiss in a Shadow from 


its title, 


) Playboy Club News Ў 


PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL 


VOL. II, NO. 24 


DISTINGUISHED CLUBS IN MAJOR CITIES 


SPECIAL EDITION 


YOUR ONE PLAYBOY CLUB KEY 


ADMITS YOU TO ALL PLAYBOY CLUBS JULY 1962 


LAVISH ST. LOUIS CLUB GETS SET TO SWING 


$750,000 Playboy 


ST. LOUIS (Special) — Side- 
walk engineers are amazing 
passersby with their speed 
constructing the St. Louis 
Playboy Club. With this ultra- 
modern four-level structure 
rising right on schedule, the 
magic date — September 20 — is 
now set for the grand opening. 

The $750,000 building is lo- 
cated at 3914 Lindell Blvd., near 
the luxurious Chase-Park Plaza 
Hotel and glittering Gaslight 
Square. The Club will have a 
unique room, the “Playpen,” a 
suspended area overlooking the 
Living Room and Playmate Bar, 
both standard features of other 
Playboy Clubs now in operation 
in Chicago, Miami and New 
Orleans. Outdoors, sheltered 
from the noise of the city by an 
ornamental wall, be a 


fiecting pool An exterior glass 
front exposing two levels of the 
Club will provide patrons within 


This was scene of St. Louis Club 
location a few short months ago. 


The archi 


with a relaxing view of the 
sculptured landscape. 

The Club exterior will be set 
off by a series of pagoda-shaped 
canopies extending from the 
40-foot recessed entrance. Key- 
holders and guests driving up 
to the Club entrance will pro- 
ceed along a driveway winding 
under the structure to parking 
areas the rear where attend- 
ants will be on hand to lend 


Club Debuts September 20 


ctural drawing of the St. Louis Playboy Club, 3914 Lindell Blvd., 
shows the exterior and garden. September 20 marks the gala opening. 


DETROIT CLUB 
OPENS THIS YEAR 


DETROIT (Special) — The 
lavish Detroit Playboy Club, at 
1014 East Jefferson Ave.,is set 
to open near the end of 1962. 
The Club, to cost $650,000, is 
located on the site of the famed 
Stockholm Restaurant. The 
building will be refaced and the 
interior completely remodeled, 
to follow Playboy Club con- 
temporary styling, The floors 
will be converted into multi- 
levels, similar to the exciting 


T і 


PLAYBOY CLUB LOCATIONS 


CLUBS OPEN-Chicago at 116 
E. Walton St.; Miami at 7701 
Biscayne Blvd.; New Orleans at 
727 Rue Iberville. 


LOCATIONS SET—New York at 
5 East 59th St.; Los Angeles at 


8580 Sunset Blvd. Detroit at 
1014 E. Jefferson Ave.; St. Louis 
at 3914 Lindell Blvd.; San Fran- 
cisco at 736 Montgomery St. 


NEXT IN LINE — Baltimore, 
Washington, Dallas, Boston, 
Pittsburgh, Puerto Rico. 


assistance. 

With the St. Louis Club set 
to open scon, area residents will 
want to take advantage of the 
Special $25 Charter Key Roster. 


pattern established by the Chi- 
cago Playboy Club. 

As with the Playboy Clubs 
in Chicago, Miami and New 
Orleans, the plush Detroit 
branch will feature outstanding 
entertainment, fine food and 
drink, and beautiful Bunny 
hostesses. 


THE PLAYBOY CLUB 


IS OPEN 
SEVEN NIGHTS A WEEK 


Once the Charter Roster is filled 


and the Club officially opens, a 


Playboy Club key will be $50, 
the Special Resident Fee, for 


Other cities slated to get 
Playboy Clubs this year are 
New York (opening October 11), 


NEW BUNNIES READY TO HOP TO 
DUTIES IN NEW YORK, ST. LOUIS 


Presently in the “Bunny Train- 
ing Program” at the Chicago 
Club, Bunnies (1 to r) Patty, 


Marian and Judy look forward 
to welcoming keyholders and 
guests to the New York and St. 
Louis Playboy Clubs, set to 
open in early autumn, These and 
other Bunny lovelies will add 
to the glamor of these fabulous 
new Clubs, 

Young ladies who feel they 
meet the standards of attrac- 
tiveness and personality re- 
quired of Playboy Club Bunnies 
may arrange for interviews in 
Chicago, Miami, New Orleans, 
New York or Los Angeles. For 
appointment, write and enclose 
photo: Playboy Clubs Interna- 
tional Personnel Dept. P762, 
232 E. Ohio St, Chicago 11, 
Illinois. 


San Francisco and St. Louis. 


all in the St. Louis vicinity. 


=== 
: PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL 

c/o Playboy Magazine, 1 
1 232 East Ohio Street, 
1 Chicago 11, Illinois 


Gentlemen: 


Here is my application for Lifetime Key Pri 
Enclosed is my check for $ 
prithin а 75-mile radius of Chicago and in the state of Florida. Keys p 
re $25 outside these areas). 1 understand that if my application is 
[accepted, my key will admit me to Playboy Clubs now in operation Ш 
3nd others soon to go into operation in major cities throughout the р 
'U.S. and abroad. 


Check here only if you wish information about joining 1 

BL the Playboy Club. I 
[| Г] 
= (PLEASE PRT) [| 
1 DRESS Ц 
L| 1 
Tone com sare 781. 


PLAYBOY 


24 


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PLAYBOY PRODUCTS 

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Chicago 11, Illinois 


Playboy Club keyholders may 
charge by enclosing key 
af number with order. 


The King and I and Carousels If I 
Loved You—in the latter: the fastest- 
paced Two Ladies in De Shade of De 
Banana Tree we've ever heard, with 
Falling in Love with Love hard on its 
heels: Ordinarily, Hawaiian-type music 
leaves us cold, but we must admit that 
Vic Damone's Strange Enchontment (Сарі- 
tol) paints a most engaging swaying 
palms picture. We'll have to chalk it up 
to Vic's rich baritone, Billy May's able 
orchestrations, and the inclusion of such 
favorites as Poinciana and Flamingo 
The Midnight Special (Victor) is one of 
Harry Belafonte's best LPs, which is tak- 
ing in a lot of territory. It has a freshness 
(due in large part to Belafonte’s new 
lyrics sct to a number of old folk tunes) 
and a drive that is electric in its intensity. 

Gloomy Sunday and Other Bright Moments 
(Verve) is а nominal reflection of the 
tongue-in-cheek approach much favored 
by the Bob Brookmeyer Orchestra and its 
leader. The charts are supplied by stellar 
arrangers Eddie Sauter, Al Cohn, Gary 
McFarland, Ralph Burns and Brook- 
meyer himself, and are transmitted. with 
éclat by a fine collection of sidemen 
and soloists. 


“I'm the Greatest Comedian in the World 
Only Nobody Knows It Yer" . . . Jackie Mason 
(Verve) is an extraordinary first LP. Ma- 
son, a rabbi turned comic, is neither sick 
nor stand-up, nor slapstick, nor insult. 
He defies categorization except as very 
funny. In his routines, he leans toward 
self-deprecation (“When I retired from 
show business, I was the only one who 
knew that 1 quit. I start slow and little 
by little I die out completely. The last 
place I played, the act before me was so 
bad, while my act was on they were still 
booing him."). Mason, commenting on 
the Masons, reveals he is one of 14 chil- 
dren because his mother is hard of hear- 
ing ("When my father would ask, "Would 
you like to go to bed or what” my 
other would say, "What?" My 
was wiped out in the crasb; some stock- 
broker jumped out of a window and 
smashed his pushcart.”). On the sexual 
hipness of children ("Every kid in the 
world plays doctor. You think they don't 
know what they're doing? Why don't 
they play accountant"). On the trials of 
genius ("Marconi's wile said to him, ‘So 
you invented the radio tube; зо what — 
who needs it? If you're such a genius why 
can't you fix the television set "). On 
the population explosion (“More people 
are bom in India every minute than in 
Turkey, which proves that more people 
talk turkey in India"). On social rela- 
tionships (“A normal man wants only 
one thing from a woman — companion- 
ship. I'm talking about a very old man 
Sex is very bad for one; for two — great! 
As Dr. Kinsey said to the sex maniac, 


‘You're OK in my book.'"). All this is 
delivered with a inflection 
unique in the world of comedy. 


MOVIES 


Kim Nova 


has built a following — 


of most things at once. Now it's two new 
comedies — but, unlike в natural 
gilts, one is less bouncy than the other. 
t Out starts with a Gallictype 
ick. Four suburbanite gents (three 
of them married) team up to rent a lux- 
ury apartment in Manhattan, furnished 
n, among other things, Kim. Each of 
the commuters has a visiting night as- 
signed to him. What these hopefuls don't 
know is that the gal is a sociology stu- 
dent doing fieldwork for her thesis on 
Idolescent Sexual Fantasies in the Sub- 
urban Male. Now her big problem is 
how to do her fielding without getting 
tagged. Tony Randall, Howard Duff and 
Howard Morris drool adroitly as the 
three married wolves at the door, but 
this penthouse party never really gets 
off the (1) As а come- 
rner, the unmarried 
is chip off the old Rock Hudson. 

h, whose 


swa 
(2) The dialog is by Ira Wall. 
reputation as a wit should be 


avesti- 


ited by the Senate Comm on Infl: 
tion. (3) Michael Gordon's directorial 
touch has to be measured in megatons. 
The only thing about Kim that needs 
uplift is her acting, and here she doesn't 
get enough support. 


La Novak's other new comedy, The 
Notorious Landlady, sparkles where Night 
Out sputters. Reasons? (1) Her le 
a is Jack 
would reflect on a dressmaker's dummy 
playing opposite him. (2) The dialog by 
Larry Gelbart and Blake Edwards is delt 
And so (3) is Richard Quine's direction. 
Lemmon, a State Department staller as 
d to London, rents an apartment 
from Kim, who is suspected of having 
murdered. her husband. Fred Astaire, 
Lemme ‚ warns him to keep his 
nose clean; but Lionel Jeffries, of The 

. asks Lemmon to snoop for evi 

Plenty of plot. lots of laughs. 
re is amiable; Jeffries, a gifted 
lish kook, is ginger-peachy. And Jack 
Lemmon is, as always, a pleasure to be in 
the same theater with. 


mi Lemmon, whose talent 


In the of Helen Keller, 
is more moving than the mome 
at the age of eight, she first broke 
through the soundless barrier. William. 
Gibson's play (and now his screenplay), 
The Miracle Worker, is an emotion wringer 


t when, 


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hers. After all, with the thrifty new HONDA “50”s starting at a penny- 
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Please send literature on the HONDA "50" line to: 
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оз RE HATE 


Г) lam especially interested in Honda Trail "'50' 

Û Include literature on Honda motorcycles and scooter 
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O 1 am interested in dealer franchise information. 


PLAYBOY 


26 


WHY For king-size fun seekers, PLAYBOY'S 

man-size lighter that's certain to 

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320 ppd. 


Shall we enclose a gift card in your name? 


Make check or money order payable to: 
PLAYBOY PRODUCTS 

232 East Ohio Street Chicago 11, Minois 
Playboy Club keyholders may 

charge by enclosing 
key number with order. 


Appetizing Idea! 


THE PLAYBOY 
GOURMET 


‘The Complete Food and Drink Handbook 
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Whether you're entertaining à deux or 
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Tastefully attuned to the educated palate of the 
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when it sticks to Helen and her teache 
the blind Boston foundling, An 
Sull - The tussles between these two 
— the scared kid fighting ferociously to 
return to parental petting, Annie tough- 
dedly turning her toward life — arc 
of unphony pathos Gibson's 
p of the script is dullish, but 
rthur Penn (of the original 
d tyke with 
nd impact than they 
c. Anne Bi oft, the 
the same steel- 
ted performance 


willed, softhe: 
same Helen, P 
the film. 


They laughed when Producer J; 
В. Harris and Director Stanley Kubrick 
sar down to play Vladimir Nabokov's 
Lelito, for it had been prophesied (1) that 
it could never be filmed and (2) that if it 
were, such dire consequences as Code 
disapproval and Legion condemnation 
would surely follow. Upon which, 

s and Kubrick headed for Eng 
ly one of the 
best movies. Not only t 
being handled by Mi 
à Code seal. 
noncondemnatory 
La Dolce Vila) by 


course, 


le 
into acceptable sc 
nswer depends on how nymphetlike 
one considers Sue Lyon, who plays the 
n when chosen 


matured into a precoc 
shooting. This, of course, п 
couple of years older th 


specifica п the novel. She is 
theless an eye-catching. 
factory Lolita, and а good little actress 


to boot. Kubrick reportedly shot as many 
as 35 takes lor cach of her scenes, not 
letting up until he had captured the 
ely wise look of the eyes, the 
y exact slurp of à Coke. Jame 
as Humbert H 


passion for her, 
not only Lolita but almost gets 
with the picture itself as the brilli: 
те Quilty. And some Spe 


ed mother. Her 
, avid need for sex understand 
ably congeals Humbert's c 
"The movie, like the book. 
bily funny for much of its length, but 
becomes heartrending as Humbert’ 
erotic need for a nymphet turns into 
uncontrollable fixation, Nabokov, doi 
his own filmscript, chose not to provide 
Humbert with a previous history ol 
nymphecchasing alluded to, and 
that's al. This means that those who 
have read the book will immed 


it don't mean a thing... 


if it ain't got that swing. This album's 
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ize their indoctrination course to com- 
prehend Humber's miseries. For th 
who haven't, the movie offers а some- 
what different experience, as 
the tragicomic story of an intelligent 
man led astray by adolescent allure. 
More remarkable than the technical ex- 
cellence of Kubrick's direction is his 
pervasive sympathy toward and under- 
standing of the characters. His collabora 
tion with the actors evokes a genuine 
emotional response. A further tribute to 
the film is the fact that its two and a 
half hours slide by all too quickly. 


becomes 


BOOKS 


As Lolita packs the movie houses, 
Nabokov's new novel, Pale Fire (Рита, 
55), stacks the bookshops. ‘This elaborate 
literary leg pull is in two main р 
philosophieal narrative poem almost 40 
pages long, ostensibly written by one 
John Shade: and a much longer com- 
mentary on the poem by one Charles 
Kinbote. The poem itself is liter: 
sober; the commentary is a wild a 
Kinbote, who has been teaching incog- a 

ito at the same college as Shade, gradu- 
als himself to be the exiled 
ch of Zembla, which the book's 


make you um. dink 
index (yes, there is an index) lists as “a 


distant northern land." Kinbote has e: 

caped from Zembla, with a revolutionary 

agent on his track, and the ass of 

a in accidently kills the poet Shade SC PTIOUS 
instead of the Nabokov writes bril- SS 

liantly; few men can tum a phrase or 

toss off a serious gag with such felicity. 


But his doses of melodrama, satire, fan- 
tasy and a highly sophisticated irony Ж the . 

here produce а concoction that will ei 
s Lolita. т 

podus ШШ 


There is not much in his latest novel 
to remind James M. Cain fans of his Iu 
erstwhile sadistic sexology. In Mignon 


(Dial, $4.50)—a Civil War novel about : 
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young Southern widow, name of Mi 

a filly in her prime — there is 
a great deal of talk about buying and 
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when it comes to business or war, Са 
is not able; his prose lacks vi 
ch al The w 
picks up force only when he pi 
young man against a sexy young woman 
— as in the scene in which the chate 
of a New Orleans gambling house bat 
ters the hero's face with her shoe, while | ac. Use Merito 
her servant holds him at sword's point. | 294, quite simply, 
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good teeth, alone in a deserted church. 
For 40 days they go at 

agely, lustily, tenderly, holily (Cain 
insists on the holiness of sex), and then 
dic of exhaustion in cach other's arms 
and blood. That, James M., is what we 
expect when we raise a C: 

Pogo: “What's the Jack Acid Society 
stand for?" Deacon Muslirat: “We won't 
stand for much, believe me! It's what we're 

inst that’s important.” Okefenokee 
Swamp, the home of Pogo (Possum), 
Albert (Alligator) and other free spirits 
has recently been invaded by the Jack 
Acid Society, a snoop group headed by 
Deacon Mushrat and Molester Р. Mole 
(who are also its only members) and ded 
icated to fighting Creeping Demo: 
Wherever Mole and Mushrat look, they 
red. Pogo and Albert confi 
considerably by voluntee 
blacklist. We reler the re: 
Acid Society Black Book (Simon & Schuster, 
$1) by Pogo, as told to Walt Kelly, fe 
the development of the plot. Po; 
prince of a possum, and wi gratetul 
to him for writing this book — his first. 


Some years ago there was а writer 
named John O'Hara —and he was not 
a bad writer. (Sce Appointment in 
Samarra.) Then he be fac- 
turer of fiction — and he was a successful 
one. (Sec A Rage to Live.) His ch 


me a 


blood. but they were always a very hi 
quality plastic. Now. on the evidence of 

is new novel, The Big lough (Random 
House, $4.95), he has completely auto 
mated the ci n. O Hara here 
traces the career of Hubert Ward, а bad 
boy (he seduces а deut 


into darkness when (irony!) she w 
of him. The events, spiced with the 
usual passages of scarlet O'Hara, arc 
by and lar i 
is cle 


the 


tails 
Hollywood 
spared the 
encumbered pr 
Moreover, ei 
comes upon a page or two of writ 
that brings a character to sudden Ше 
though the machine broke down at that 
point and the old pro 
forced to take up his rusty pen. Bur 

i k have these 


he Big 


wentories of triv 
vious O'Hara 
y now 


novels. 
ad then one 


Laugh. It's not funny. 


THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


Alter many hours of brain-racking 
I've been unable to come up with a solu- 
tion to a rather classic problem: Just 
how can I win back the affections of a 
girl Гус been faithful to? Up until 
а couple of weeks ago our relationship 
was an extremely happy one. Then she 
left town brielly to visit relatives and T, 
being lonely and depressed, dropped by 
to sec a friendly chick I used to date. 
There's no point in going into details 
— we had a couple of drinks, I made an 
automatic pass, and one thing led to 


the inevitable other. Unfortunately. word 
of this rendezvous got back to my girl. 
She was furious and dei ex- 


planation. I apolo 
explain an act th: 
essentially meaningle 
in love with her and would do 
to regain her respect and devotion. 
suggestions? — P. K., Phoenix, Arizon 

First, vou'd better ask yourself whether 
this girl's “respect and devotion” are 
worth the price you may have to pay for 
them. If she is unwilling to forgive and 
forget an incident for which you seem 
sincerely sorry, what sort of relationship 
can you hope for in the future? If you 
decide the girl is worth giving up your 
masculine mobility for, then what is 
probably called for is a white lie. You've 
already been truthful and apologized for 
an incident foy which you should cer- 
tainly be forgiven. If she is emotionally 
incapable of accepting that apology, 
make up a befitting excuse for the inci- 
dent that will satisfy her. If the girl 
cares al all for you, she will want to 
believe that nothing happened, so she 
will willingly accept even a very thin 
story that explains away the incident as 
a misunderstanding or something that 
never happened. 


WW з the proper technique for 
ing Italian spaghetti? — D. G., Kansas 
City, Missouri. 

An unresolved tug of war persists be- 
tween two schools of spaghetti devotees: 
those who cat by fork alone (Enrico 
Caruso was one), and those who use a 
fork in conjunction with a large spoon 
(several strands ате picked up by the 
fork and twirled against the bowl of the 
spoon until a proper mouthful has been 
wrapped). Though purists may cry foul, 
we tend to favor the latter system simply 
because it's easier, and because one runs 
less risk of holding a fork stranded with 
an overdose of pasta. 


Win Dewoit returning to compact 
economy models and prices hovering 
near $1900, I'm curious to know just 
how far the auto industry will have to 
EO to match its al-time-low price tag. 


much 
nything 
Any 


— T. B., Boston, Massachusetts. 

A country mile as the dough flies: 
back in 1923 a man could treat himself 
to а new Ford Model T for $295, his- 
tory’s lowest automotive run for thc 
money. 


AX coed has invited me to join her and 
three sorority sisters for a weekend at 
their summer pad on the dunes of East 
Hampton. I have accepted, of course, 
but am struck with this thought: When 
а man joins а woman for a weekend of 
surfing who pays what bills? —R. S., 
New York 


New Yor! 
Follow the rules laid down for cam- 
pus vacations. You pay your own 


transportation, of couse, and ib i 
appreciated (but not required) if you 
take your date a present. If you're stay- 
ing at her hut, you'd better be prepared 
to split the food and liquor bills during 
your stay. If not, your coed has prob- 
ably reserved a room for you at a hotel 
(which you should pay for) or with 
friends. If it is the latter, take along a 
gift for the hostess, but don't volunteer 
to buy staples (its considered de trop). 


Having just been rel 
rvice, I'm anxious to replenish my civil- 
ian wardrobe. Could you tell me just 
how many suits, sports jackets and slacks 
are considered essential to а young exec's 
needs? — J. J., St. Louis, Missouri. 

While there ате no hard and fost rules 
governing the components of a gentle- 
man's wardrobe, you'd do well to suit 
yourself with the following fundamental 
attire that should more than adequately 
take care of your needs. 


ed from the 


For cool or cold weather: 
subdued 


1 black 
(business) 

1 navy subdued check suit (business) 

1 gray subdued plaid suit (business) 

1 tweed suit (spectator sportswear and 
country weekends) 

1 solid black suit (cocktail parties 
and nonformal dining) 

1 lightweight dinner jacket (formal 
occasions) 

1 subdued solid or tweed sports jacket 
(casual dress) 

1 pr. light-gray slacks (casual dress) 

1 pr. oxford-gray flannel slacks 

For warm weathe: 

1 lightweight gray flannel suit (busi- 
ness) 

1 dacron-and-worsted black pinstripe 
suit (business) 

1 lightweight blue glen plaid suit 
(business) 

1 striped seersucker sports jacket with 
cotton slacks (both business and cas- 
ual activities) 


хий with stripes 


eineken’s 
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YARDLEY 


Hair Controla 
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Only young men need apply. 


Any man with hair is welcome to 
try these two important, new Yardley 
hairdressings. 

But we made them specifically for 
young men. 

Both are designed to keep hair 
casually controlled...the way young 
men (and young women) like it. 

Both work to insure good looking 
hair for years to come. They give you 
all the benefits you should expect of 
a modern hairdressing, help control 
dandruff and condition scalp, encour- 
age moisture-retention with special 
emollients that help fight the drying 
effects of showers and shampoos. 


And because we know that young 
men’s hair usually comes in one of 
two types, we've made a special prod- 
uct for each: 

Yardley Hair Control Cream is for 
thick, energetic hair. This non-greasy 
formula has just enough lanolin to 
groom lightly but firmly. 

Yardley Hair Control Lotion is for 
fine hair that won't stay put. It has an 
imperceptible fixative that adds oil- 
free body to young hair. 

Of course, if you only feel young 
you might want to use one of these 
new products. 

We won’t stop you. 


I batik sports jacket with dacron-and- 
worsted slacks (both business and 
casual activities) 

1 lightweight. dinner 

occasions) 

To be tiuly well equipped in the tog 
gery department, you should aim for the 
acquisition of 
dark suits for evening wear, two sports 
jackets (one check and one stripe) 
navy blazer, eight pairs of slack 
two dinner jackets. 


W. es should one drink with 
dessert: — G. S.. York, Pennsylvania. 

In general, sweet wines make for just 
desserts. Bordeaux types like Haut Sau- 
ternes or Barsac are compatible with all 
last-course dishes, and go especially well 
with fruit. desserts such as strawbe 
Romanoff or peach tart. Champagne — 
the most festive of dessert wines — is a 
highly recommended. supplement to а 
tray of fine ripe cheese. Other choice 
dessert selections include Malaga (a very 
1 Spanish wine with a heavy taste), 
ay (a Hungarian wine that can also 
be sipped as an aperitif) and Marsala 
(inexpensive and Sicily). 
Dark sweet wines such as Madeira, sherry 
and port are meant to be sipped after 
the dessert, with your demitasse. With 
the exceplion of the Bordeaux and 
champagne, which should be served cold. 
the above wines are property savored at 
room temperature. 


т. banns have becn published апай 
the E es preached but Tm still a 
a loss on one problem: how intim: 
a gift may I bestow on a girl to whom 
Tm engaged but am not yet entwined?— 
Florid 
gifts to his betrothed should 
reflect his lastes, his tact and his tactics. 
If you believe in tradition, festoon her 
with fancies that may be seen from the 
outside (scarves, gloves, jewelry), and 
don't skindive for flimsies worn under 
the surface. Convention flouters who sce 
no point in refraining from the familiar 
may, on the other hand, win approba- 
tion by shopping in the undergarment 
district. If the girl has a sense of humor, 
you might also present her a fancily 
wrapped package with a note reading 
“To be worn on our wedding night” — 
first insuring, of course, that the pack- 
age is pristinely empty. 


jacket (formal 


gh! business suits, two 


one 
and 


ies 


strong. from 


na 


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


POLLY-JO 
38-21-38 
From time to time, we're pleased to use this 
page to introduce you to young women who 
smoke Chesterfield King. Hence—Polly Jo, 


who is almost as attractive as her cigarette 
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You see, Chesterfield King gives you all the 
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CHESTERFIELD 
KING 
21-20 


Wi ROGER HAYDOCK CONSENTED to go to Hollywood, against his better judgment, he 
had lately been presented with an important award for fiction, in connection with a book 
he had written chiefly for his own amusement (and that of his son) and which he had thitherto thought of, 
if at all, as a trifle. Since the advent of the honorific, he had reviewed his opinion and found it wanting 
in perception. More specifically, he had missed becoming pompous only through the steadying infiuence 
of his wife, a leggy, good-humored brunette who viewed him with tolerance and a wry concession to his 
faults. Attached to this man, like a gyro to a steamboat, she kept him from turning turtle as he wallowed 
through the self-roiled seas of a writer's life. 

Haydock’s communications with Hollywood had been tonic but jangling. The most majestic of 
the studios had bought his book, for a princely sum, and was planning to convert it into a film epic 
of Americana. The finished product would be peerless in length and heroic in all its dimensions. In 
numberless conversations by long-distance telephone, he had sought, and failed, to ascend to the high 
plateau of moonstruck superlative where the studio officials loved and sang. To start with, he was 
made uneasy by the very length and frequency of the calls. Haydock admired "Thoreau's thesis ol 
simplicity, and while he was perfectly profligate in questions of large finance, he often descended to 
stinginess over small household incursions like garbage collection, charity drives for diseases sponsored 
by television comedians, phone calls when a postcard would do, and the brigandage of listless plumbers. 
“These fellows throw money around like sailors ashore,” he complained to his wile. “It’s unwholesome, 


THE PILGRIMAGE О 


he had read all the books and seen all the sights, 
but hollywood still held some surprises for him 


and may bring on runaway inflation.” "Quite possibly they know what they're doing," she said. “It's 
olten necessary to spend money to make money. To coin a phrase,” she added, performing the ritual, 
to dodge a barb and keep the peace. 

After nearly a year of effort, the studio had tentatively settled on a script, the sole survivor ofa 
batch of five, which included one by a reformed drunk who confessed, under pressure, that he had 
never gone through the book but had read “a very long, detailed review.” His departure from the 
story, which was rustic in flavor, was a masterwork of creative writing; he led the characters out of their 
Southern milieu to spend most of their time in a San Francisco saloon, talking, and brought the plot 
to a denouement of conspicuous apathy with an irrelevant argument for homoscxuality. 

Haydock himself had not been invited to join in the preparation of the screenplay. The studio 
had its reasons. The first of these was that he was generally untutorcd in the medium; for another, 
he was known to be difficult. Haydock had not wished to write the movie, but he preferred the studio 
to believe that he could. As he told them on the phone, with a wonderful lack of tact, he was an expert 
on motion pictures; the fact is, he had celluloid in his blood (and here his voice began to sound just 
faintly like the melodious rasp of W. C. Fields), and had spent thousands of hours sitting in movie theaters 
to avoid making conversation with bores. Apparently the studio regarded the qualification as flimsy. 
Also, Haydock's reputation for arrogance, independence — he was moderately rich — impatience with less 
sprightly minds (which often scemed to him to include everybody alive), bumptious challenge, vague 


F ROGER HAYDOCK 


fiction By ROBERT LEWIS TAYLOR 


PLAYBOY 


34 


threats of violence, and frequent auda- 
hief had caused concern of a 


Haydock was aware of these traits, and 
етей them disturbing. He liked to 
deplore them to his wife, hoping to be 
reassured that they didn’t exist, but she 
usually shrugged, knowing better, and 
offered only the dubious palliative that 
"it may only be a phase,” a statement 
that set his teeth on edge. It was, in a 
sense, a family joke. If one of the chil- 
dren burned down a barn, his wife 
dialed the urance man, as Haydock 
stamped ranting through the living room, 
and remarked soothingly, “Don't worry; 
it's nothing but a phase.” “Of course,” 
he would shout, “and next comes the 
grand larceny phase, and then the smug- 
gling. and then kidnapping, then piracy, 
and, at last, murder. How close are they 
to their murder phase?” Later, to be sure, 
he reflected that he had been excessively 
censorious, whereupon he summoned the 
culprit and bragged at length about the 
many (superior) black deeds of his own 
youth; then he gave the child five dol- 
lars for injecting verve into the neighbor- 
hood play. Haydock was, in short, a man 
of extremes. In his attitude toward his 
work, he was alternately self-deprecatory 
and conceited, humble and overbearing, 
capricious and hurt if the mood was 

Чу critical of а 
ing һїт a warm, 
ппепдацоп. No doubt. 
stone of his character was in- 
consistency: he was blown by whimsical 
winds. He found it difficult, for example, 
to live anyplace in contentment for over 
six months: the dimate turned foul, the 
people palled, the customs were stupid, 
the structures grotesque, the geography 
deliberately offensive. He had once 
moved the family from a palatial villa 
near Cannes because the Mediterranean 
was too blue. "It's like a damned poster,” 
he said. “It’s a fake. They pour pigment 
in it every night, in that river that comes 
in up near Nice.” 

Despite this erratic search for the 
green pastures of body and soul (which 
his wife curbed with enough firmness to 
make life possible, and which he him- 
self watched and fought) Haydock had a 
hard, 's core of professionalism. 
When he sat down to work, he knew 
what he was doing. Moreover, he pro- 
ceeded with suicidal reliability in а 
straight line until the job was finished, 
If the subject matter was subtly attuned 
to his special vi he perhaps 
knew what he was after better than any- 
body else in the world could have, and 
5 ordered fund 
and execution that the 
s now wished to bring to 
completed script. Hay- 
dock's, the studio felt. was the original 
creator's unique knowledge of how to 
diffuse throughout a screenplay the 
book's delicate spirit. He could not help 


but applaud an understanding so sensi- 
tive, and while he was by no means cager 
to go to Hollywood, he was, he decided, 
g. Even so, he had what he con- 
sidered to be the usual misgivings of the 
successful Eastern toiler in the mysteri- 
ous vineyard of rhetoric. The gossip in 
the bazaars was disparaging, and the lit- 
erature he had read on the subject (by 
writers whose options were dropped) 
drew gloomy pictures of a frosted-cake, 
jerry-built land in thrall to monied, illit- 
erate vulgarians. Worse, it was a poppy- 
field of remorseless corruption, a belle 
dame sans merci to whose charms — cash 
and a sinusfree climate — the finest tal- 
ents of the East had fallen prey. Hay- 
dock and his wife talked it over, flirting as 
close to a serious discussion as they ever 
came, and agreed to keep their heads. 
"They say theyll put us up in a first- 
class suite at the Beverly Sunset," he said, 
“with unlimited access to room service 
and all the amenities. It sounds risky. 
І think ГЇЇ drop them a postcard and 
ask them to lodge us in а motel some- 
where near downtown Los Angeles, say 
in the Mexican section." "Don't be an 
ass," his wife replied, reminding herself 
that for once she could probably get 
an expensive permanent without having 
à domestic fuss. 


"They were whisked to the West Coast 
by jet (superjet) plane, in a five-hour 
that was uneventful except for one 
trivial lapse by Haydock, the result of 
overstimulation from two unaccustomed 
(free) martinis at 11 o'clock in the morn- 
ing. For a man determined to maintain 
his equilibrium, the week began, in fact, 
on a note of whirligig unreality, and 
characteristically he grumbled out of all 
proportion. The drinks came immedi- 
ately after takeoff, and a full dinner, 
including a lobster cocktail and a large 
sirloin, was served at 3:30 in the after- 
Midway during the dangerous 
thus produced, Haydock asked (of- 
fering grandly to pay) for a third drink; 
he was refused by one of the several 
faultlessly beautiful and efficient steward- 
esses, whose policy denial sounded, he 
thought, like a taped recitation from а 
Dresden doll. Brooding over a corporate 
folly that could intoxicate 100 passen- 
gers, on the house, then let them squirm 
for hours without further alcohol or the 
soporific of food, he decided that the 
stewardesses, too, were hostile and also 
lentical. When he chattily asked one 
if the company ran them off on a mimeo- 
graph, his wife's protest was so bitter 
that he spent the rest of the trip over- 
compensating with ornate compliments, 
apology and thanks. 

He was glad to see ће Los Angeles 
airport swim up out of the deep, hand- 
sprinkled, artificial green of the coast 
and 10 greet his agent, Fred Eisenfeld, 
whose sun-tanned face, relaxed by years 
of cheerful cynicism, seemed to provide 


а peg of sanity upon which to hang th 
nervous venture. “What do these birds 
want out of me?" Haydock demanded 
on the ride to the Beverly Sunset. "Noth. 
ing," said Eisenfeld, long used to spring- 
ing things on twitchy writers one at a 
time, with pressure-chamber spaces in 
between, to avoid cases of the literary 
bends. “They want you to enjoy the 
hotel, swim in the pool, eat the food, 
maybe come out to the studio a time 
or two when you get rested up.” “What 
am I supposed to say about their script?” 
“Tell them the truth; tell them how it 
hits you," said Eisenfeld easily. “What 
if it hits me bad?" “Then tell them it's 
terrible; say they've injured you pro 
fessionally: refuse to come out of your 
suite; challenge the head of the studio 
to a duel; sue. You might even say ‘I 
vant to go home.’ That line's been very 
successful out here in the past.” 

OK," said Haydock, grinning. He 
had known and trusted Eisenfeld for a 
long time and was relieved to be yanked 
back into a reasonable frame of mind. 
In this milieu, it was soothing to be 
around somebody to whom the most 
childish and explosive byways of human 
conduct were commonplace, the daily 
fare of a shepherd stuck by choice with 
a herd of black sheep. So thinking, Hay- 
dock restrained self to a minimum 
of comments, all scathing, over the 
bustle and ceremony of arriving at the 
Beverly Sunset Hotel, an establishment 
of flashing splendor. As he watched the 
quick, expert deployment of liveried 
doormen, car-parkers, bellhops and other 
units, he took cover behind a potted 
palm and signaled wildly to his wife 
and Fisenfeld, nearby, to get down, to 
avoid being hit. “They're guerrillas,” he 
hissed. “They've already got my bags. 
That's the way they operate, in little 
bursts; besides, І recognize: the uniforms 
from the Pacific." During the war, Hay 
dock had suffered a very tange 
brush with the enemy оп Bouga E 
and, now, was often inclined to look on 
mself as a seasoned fighter, like the 


Over the River. "Come out of there, you 


idiot," his wife said, "you're making a 
scene." “Duck!” hissed Haydock. “Grab 
yourself a foxhole in the Riviera 
Lounge.” Eisenfeld only smiled, enjoy- 
ing it all, and indeed it was for his 
entertainment that Haydock had begun 
this absurd charade. 

In their room, or suite, for it seemed 
infinitely spacious and divided, Haydock 
was authentically impressed. Spurred on 
by the reliable audience of his agent, 
he took note of the drapes, the rcpro- 
ductions of Matisse, Bonnard and Picasso 
(which he described as superior to the 
originals, with fresher color) and the 
three. tinted telephones, cach with its 
own number. Then he found a fourth 
phone the bathroom, “By God, what 

(continued on page 40) 


“Is it just me, or have you sensed a pagan revival in 
this country recently?” 


35 


Guy sporis snap-on terry wroparound by State-O-Maine, slippers by 
Pad Abouts, $3 the set; wields cordless power shaver with self- 
sharpening cutters, by Remington, $36; shares deep-pile 
Creslan-Dynel rug by Cloud Nine, $12) with 

brass shaving stand by Hammacher Schlemmer, 

$40. Tray holds six-ounce bottle Knize 
Ten after-shave, $4.50; four-ounce jug 
Old Spice preshave lotion by Shulton, 
$1. On wall: wood-handied shower 
brush by Hammacher Schlemmer, 
$17.50; 24K gold-plated dolphin 

towel ring by Sherle Wagner, $27.50; 
terry bath towel by Cone, $1.50. 
Below: cypress cane wastebasket, 
$25, brass towel ladder, 

$75, both by Hammacher 

Schlemmer; terry towels 


by Cannon, $3.50, 
Я Weightwise, I 1o r: 
springless scale 


with graduated bor, 
by Detecto, $40; 
24K gold-ploted 
scole by Borg, $25. 


Ву КОВЕКТ L. GREEN IT IS А YRUISM THAT CLOTHES ALONE don't make the шап, and the corollary 
is equally apparent: good clothes are an indispensable aid in helping the man make it — socially, profession- 
ally and purely personally in the realm of esprit and self-esteem. Of virtually equal importance is meticulous 
grooming — as opposed to mere cleanliness — since good grooming, no less than good manners and tasteful 
attire, goes far to enhance the total impression of the total man. 

The adult urbane man, in his evolution from ring-around-the-neck boyhood, evolves a fairly automatic 
routine of bathing, shaving, toothbrushing, nail-clipping, cleaning, etc. If these activities are thought of at 
all, it is in terms of a not especially joyful routine. It need not and should not be so: the art of being 
perfectly groomed — and looking it — is easily achieved, with accompanying pleasures, with a bit of extra 
attention to proper gcar, pleasing surroundings in which to employ it, and a modicum of extra know-how 
which is readily acquired. 

The man's bathroom itself is worthy of the same attention as he may devote to his bedroom. Gener- 
ally, we favor white or light-colored walls, with boldly contrasting bath mat, shower curtain and towels 
in such colors as deep blue, brown, green, red. (Light-colored walls make for good lighting — another 
essential to the properly equipped bathroom.) 

The grooming gear should be comparable in quality and varicty to that illustrated here — soaps, 
shavers, scrub brushes, hairbrushes, combs, after-shave, cologne, etc., i.e, all that may be necessary or 
desirable for the rites of the bath. The appurtenances, such as scale, sun lamp, soap dishes, hamper, towel 
racks and rings, etc., should be as luxuriously functional as one may obtain; there is an almost sensual 
plcasurc in using such cquipment daily, and to the degree that tangibles can do so, properly posh 
paraphernalia goes far toward promoting a feeling of well-being. 

Most men these days prefer the shower to the tub. We are firm believers in both, since there are 
bound to be times when the suffusing warmth of a steaming tub in winter, or the indolent refreshment 
of a cooling tub in summer, is not replaceable by any shower so far conceived. After a particularly grucling 
day at the office, or active outdoor sport, total relaxation in a tub for 15 or 20 minutes can do more to 
ease the nerves and sinews than even the most dulcet shower. 

A shower should, of course, be equipped with a head which is manually adjustable from gentle rain 
to deluge to needle spray. Each man will suit himsclf as to temperature and force of spray, but it may 
help you evolve a more satisfying procedure if you note these pointers. 

In winter, take your shower as hot as you want it, but always turn it toward cool before emerging 
so that you will not step out into a chill workaday world with pores open. In summer, remember that 
an invigorating needlepoint cold or cool shower may make you feel refreshed while you are in it, but it 
tends to close the pores and stimulate blood circulation, and you may feel more discomfort from heat after 
it than you would if you stayed a bit longer in a cool (not cold) sluicing deluge. 

‘Toweling has a great deal to do with the beneficent effects of showering. If the aim is to “stiffen the 
sinews, summon up the blood,” as Shakespeare has it (admittedly in another connection), then towel 
vigorously with a friction towel. If the aim is to keep cool and calm, make use of a large, absorbent 


WATCHWORDS TO THE WISE FOR KEEPING UP APPEARANCES 


ШЇ 


А terrycloth towel and pat. rather than rub. Let final moisture evaporate 
GROOM NG GEAR (continued) from the skin, either in the buff or while you wear a terrycloth robe. 

When the weather is cool, a daily laving, tub or shower, night or morning, should take care of your 
hygienic needs and keep you feeling fresh. When the weather is warm, a shower or tub in the morning and 
when you get back from work will do much to keep you feeling cool and collected. 

For those inevitable mornings after and early risings with insufficient sleep, we advise starting the shower 
tolerably warm while you lather and rinse, then sharpening up the spray and lowering the temperature until 
you attain that hydrotherapeutic shock which — even though it may be accompanied by involuntary yelps— 
does much to overcome the torpor of awakening. 

Aprés le déluge, especially during the hot months, a gentleman uses stick, cream, powder, or liquid 
deodorants or antiperspirants —and there is a great difference between them. If you tend to perspire heavily, 
you may prefer an antiperspirant. If you are conscious of — or self-conscious about — (concluded on page 109) 


Before the bathroom mirror, | to r: lightly scented shaving soap in wooden bowl, by Yardley, $1.50; tube of Moustache hair cream 
by Marcel Rochas, $2.75; English nail brush with nylon bristles, by Caswell-Massey, $3; Woodhue soap by Fabergé, $1.50, in 24K 
gold-plated shell soap dish by Sherle Wagner, $29.50; seven-ounce bottle of 4711 men’s cologne by Colonia, $5; three-ounce 
bottle of Emperador cologne by Mem, $2.50; 16-ounce bottle of Pour Monsieur cologne by Chanel, $13.50; three-bladed electric 
shaver with long-hair trimmer, Пір. top, by Sunbeam, $32.50; nine-ounce bottle of Imperial Gold after-shave by Kings Men, 
$35. Misty reflections on same theme, middle row, ! to r: Swiss hairbrush with stiff boar bristles, sculptured macassar-wood back, 
$15, Swedish oluminum comb, $1, both by Caswell-Massey; Old Spice shower soap on cloth cord, by Shulton, $1; Swedish hollow- 
ground surgical-steel straight razor by Hoffritz, $11.50. Back row, | to r: Swedish surgical-steel manicure set by Abercrombie & Fitch, 
$47.50; adjustable stainless-steel brush stand, $12.50, holding badger-bristle shaving brush, $15, both by Alfred Dunhill, and spring- 
driven double-edge-blade razor generating 6000 lateral strokes per minute, by Stohly, $22.50; six-ounce bottles of Black Watch 
after-shave by Prince Matchabelli, $2.50, Eau de Lanvin for Men, $5; four-ounce bowling-pin bottle of after-shave by Alfred Dunhill, 
42; earthenware shaving mug with water spout, by Caswell-Massey, $4.75; English vegetable gourd bath mitt by Caswell-Massey, $3; 
multibladed electric shaver by Ronson, $29.50; compact sun lamp by Hanovia, $40; six-ounce aerosol of Woodhue cream shave 
by Fabergé, $1.50; invisible talc by Yardley, $1.25; electric toothbrush by Squibb, $19.75; AC-DC hand massager by Oster, $47. 


PLAYBOY 


40 


ROGER HAYDOCK (continued from page 34) 


do you think of that? Strategically placed, 
too; you can reach right up and take 
it off the hook without even laying down 
your book.” He lifted the receiver, sum- 
g the switchboard girl “This is 

a bathroom of 411 
id you wish me 
to put this on the conference board, sir?” 
she asked in a cultured, rather stagy 
voice, which Haydock immediately de- 
duced had been trained by an elocu- 
tionist, probably at one of the studios. 
"What hades is a conference board?” 
“It’s like when they have a conference 
up there—an outside call’s put on all 
your phones, so everybody can hear.” 
“Arrange the conference board at once,” 
said Haydock, flushing the toilet in 
some agitation. “This is important." 
When the other phones rang, they were 
answered by his wife, who was hanging 
clothes in a bedroom closet, and by 
Eisenfeld, who was comfortably sprawled 
in the sala. "Get your pencils and 
pads,” said Haydock tersely. “Let's have 
a conference.” His dictum evoked only 
an inelegant expletive and click from 
the bedroom, and Eisenfeld's tolerant 
chuckle. 

After he had stoically absorbed a lec- 
ture from his wife for not making a 
show of gratitude to Eisenfeld, to the 
studio, and to the hotel manager (whose 
card was attached to а spray of chrysan- 
themums and a basket of fruit in the 
$60-a-day suite), Haydock resolved to get 
back to earth. But his good intentions 
were shattered by the arrival of the 
rentalcar man, who bore a strong physi- 
cal resemblance to Rock Hudson, and, 
he decided, a mental similarity to an- 
other popular mime of the region, a 
donkey named Francis. "Here's your 
key to the "Thunderbird, sir," the man 
said, awaiting a tip with haughty servil- 
ity, like Arthur Treacher in one of his 
many roles as a mcnial. "What Thunder- 
bird?” Haydock replied. "I've got a Jeep, 
and a Chevrolet. Where'd it come 
from?” “Search me,” the man said, 
sensing trouble and taking on a rather 
Bogaruian leer. "They give it to me at 
the agency; that's all I got.” "It's from 
the studio,” Eisenfeld spoke up. “You 
can't move around in this town without 
а car. They didn’t have time to put іп 
a transportation system." "How does 
this car shift?" demanded Haydock, giv- 
ing the representative a keen look. “1 
don't know. Jt shifts pretty good. I only 
drove it once. ‘They keep it greased, you 
know what I mean." "1 mean how does 
it shift?" said Haydock with emphasis. 
“Well, Jesus, you push on the gas and 
it shifts itself. Automatic" “Ahal” 
cried Haydock, "Now were gewing 
somewhere.” He asumed a professor 
stance, as his wife murmured in disgust, 
and said, “The point is, I don't want 


a car that shifts by itself. Neither do I 
want one with windows that roll up 
automatically. Maybe you'd beuer make 
a note of this. 1 assume you have several 
species?” “Buddy,” said the man wea- 
rily “we got "ет all” “Well, then.” 
Haydock continued, with a familiar 
feeling of impotence before the onrush- 
ing tidal wave of nonsense, “no magic 
transmission, no power brakes and no 
power steering — those are musts. Even- 
tually, people's arms and legs will fall 
off. No multicolors, two headlights only, 
no fins and mo plastic— leather seats 


—no singing horns по radio, no 
chromium —" "I don't know," said 
the representative doubtfully. 


sorry,” Haydock said. “I should have 
put this in the affirmative. What I do 
want is as follows: a very old, black 
саг, with a divided windshield that's 
glas color — not blue — floor gearshift 
topped by a rubber knob, running 
boards made out of stecl that isn't 
rolled paper-thin, walnut dashboard, 
and thick wooden steering wheel. 
Emergency brake on the outside, or left- 
hand, running board, with a tool box 
nearby. Side curtains that don’t quite 
fit, so you can have a little fun if a 
storm comes up, and a wind-up clock 
that's been out of whack for years, 
don't know,” said the represent: 
“I just don't know what it would be. 
would be,” said Haydock quietly, 
1924 Haynes. Thats all, my man. 
Here's a dollar for your trouble. We're 
going out. When you get the car, please 
leave the key at the desk. If it doesn't 
have a self-starter, leave a crank.” 

"What 1 don't understand,” said 
Kisenfeld, deep in his sprawl on a sofa, 
is why you ever became a writer.” 

"He's a stand-up comedian,” said 
Haydocks wife. "He's just one long 
scream of laughter." 

“Bring on the studios; I've got this 
burg exactly where I want it" Haydock 
told them. 


Driving out, the next morning, he 
watched the immaculate, inspired houses 
roll past under the hard blue sky 
and suddenly felt, in his stomach, a 
warning üngaling of nerves. He had 
been expecting it, the other side of the 
coin — hollow apprehension — the text 
book “floating anxiety" that fixed its 
grip in the empty wake of merriment. 
He was bothered, often nearly para- 
lyzed, by seriousness, and by importance, 
and this trip to the studio was impor- 
tant, for he earnestly hoped that a good 
movie would be made of his book. He 
sought to regain his ascendancy (by this 
age he had gathcred a store of little flags 
with which he could mark the solid- 
ground path out of the swamp) by ask- 
ing questions, essentially derisive. From 


his position in the back seat, 
Eisenfeld's shaggy mane and his is 
ponytail glaringly framed by the white 
road before him, he said, “These houses, 
now. They're stunning, all different, 
too, but are they actually inhabited? I 
was through here three or four times 
during the war —1 was doing most of 
Nimitz’ planning. then, as you may re- 
call from reading the papers — and I've 
never yet seen a sign of life around a 
house, or anybody swimming in a pool. 
I take it the place is abandoned, like 
Virginia City.” Kisenfeld, in his unim- 
pressed way, loved this shrill, implausi- 
ble, tumescent, perhaps impermanent 
settlement, but he had long ago ceased 
to bristle upon hearing it abused. 
“Oh, they're in there. All the actresses — 
the ones not working—are reading 
Shakespeare for pleasure. They come 
out at night when the racket starts. Like 
bats.” “What racket?” demanded Hay- 
dock suspiciously. "It isn't a nightclub 
town; certainly places like Ciro's and 
Mocambo fold up in a hurry.” “Orgies,” 
said Eisenfeld. “They go to each other's 
houses and have orgies. This is Sin- 
town; it's decadent; it's pulling down 
the moral structure of the nation." "I'd 
like to hear about some red-hot Holly- 
wood sin," said Haydock's wife. "Some- 
thing juicy, for use at the Woman's 
Club when I get home. Spofford's in a 
slump.” Casting about, Eisenfeld spoke 
at length of the great Hollywood names, 
the mobile, enlarged photographs, in 
two dimensions, that comb their Lorelei 
locks for an affection-starved republic. 
Few of these, it seemed, had the con- 
ventional distribution of hormones; 
one, moreover, was paying court, with 
some hope of success, to a jaguar. He 
mentioned a powerful industrialist, a 
shadowy figure, illkempt and acerbic, 
whose importation on terms approach- 
ing peonage of golden, melon-breasted 
nymphs now formed a little nucleus of 
notability among the younger actresses. 
In the whispered, fearful ргаше of the 
soirees, he was “the girl miser," who 
hired eunuchs to steer his bonded 
troupe in and out of bar, when he 
himself was busy. "Fellow has the devil 
of a time keeping track of them,” 
said Eisenfeld. Haydock, sympathetically 
moved, suggested that he put the girls 
in white skullcaps and sweaters, each 
bearing a scarlet letter "P," and Eisen- 
feld turned into the studio. 

At the gate, several armed policemen 
came out to give them a close, hard 
look, causing Haydock to lift his arms 
and cry “I'm clean," but Eisenfeld ex- 
changed a few pleasantries, having to 
do principally with Las Vegas, the cur- 
rent joke town of the area, and they 
were waved on. Even so, Haydock re- 
fused to let it drop. "They expecting 
trouble around here?” he asked, and 

(continued on page 101) 


“Не considers every woman he meets a personal challenge." 


4l 


fiction BY CALDER WILLINGHAM harry had a need 


to score which knew no bounds of time or place 


AS THE INTERSTATE Bus in which Harry rode moved slowly 
into the heart of Dixie, carrying him toward an adventure 
that would bring forth the culmination of his dark genius, 
though he hardly could have guessed that then, he passed 
the time by amusing himself with a young girl, telling her 
ridiculous lies that she believed completely and playing with 
her body in the dark until he succeeded in inducing her to 
have several orgasms, He also succeeded in making her 
think he was madly in love with her and that he intended 
to come back to her home town and marry her. The idiocy 
of women never ceased to delight and fascinate Harry. 

However, Harry, unlike some men who share his hobby, 
took a real pride in doing a good job. He was not satisfied 
simply to make a score. Of course that was the basic point, 
but it should be done in a manner with style, and thor- 
oughly. He liked to make a really deep impression, some- 
thing that the score would remember with a thrill for the 
rest of her life. With an almost uncanny sensitivity, he 
could find and press the right button, say the right thing, 
Offer a tender kiss or a fierce and stallionlike embrace, 
whichever was proper to the moment thereof; he always 
felt himself successful when they wept and held his hand 
and told him that never before had they known what real 
love was like. A score of this type left Harry with the feeling 
of a job well done. 

Of course, a real score couldn't be made on an interstate 
bus, even at night in the gloom with the other passengers 
snoring and dozing. But considerable diversion was possible, 
and naturally there was always the chance of stopping off 
for a while in a hotel or a tourist cabin. At worst, it passed 
the time and enabled a man to keep his hand in. 

Quite a bit earlier that night, he had been sitting with a 
fairly attractive brunette around 35, who said she had four 
children and a husband waiting for her in Staunton, Vir- 
ginia. Not very much prospect there, but Harry had no 
prejudice against married women; on the contrary, he 
found them very entertaining in their way, so he talked to 
her for a while, then when the lights went out and it was 
dark he made a few moves. He was just getting established 


BUS STORY. 


ILLUSTRATION BY BOB CHRISTIANSEN 


PLAYBOY 


44 


with her, kissing her a few times and 
playing with her breasts, when the bus 
pulled into Staunton around midnight. 
‘The brunctte, looking a bit nervous and 
flustered, pot out to join her husband 
and kiddies, and Harry looked around 
for other mate! 

His eye had already noted the young 
blonde girl sitting in the back, but an 
old lady was with her. The girl was so 
young Harry had thought it was her 
grandmother or something with her, but 
not so, thc old lady was also getting out 
at Staunton, ng now to get her bag 
and parcels, The girl was traveling all 
lone. Harry at once grabbed his rain- 
cout and made his way back there, be- 
fore any of the passengers boarding at 
Staunton could take the seat away from 
him. 

"Is this seat occupied?" he asked 
quietly. 

"No," said the girl. 

Harry asked politely, “Do you mind if 
I sit here? The fumes up front are giv- 
ing me a headache.” 

The girl nodded permission briefly 
and turned and stared out the window. 
He put his raincoat in the rack above, 
sat down by her, lit a cigarette, turned 
to her and smiled. "Kind of rainy, isn't 
it? 

The girl again nodded, head turned 
from him as she stared out the window 
at the night. 

"Glad I'm not in it," he said. “Are 
you going far? 

The girl murmured an inaudible re- 
ply. She was sitting well over on her 
side of the seat, stockinged knees close 
together, hands primly folded in her 
lap. Probably she had noticed him with 
the married brunette up front and that 
had put her a litle on guard. Harry 
took a drag on his cigarette and looked 
the girl over. His guess was that she 
was around 16. Blonde. Pink rosy checks, 
blue eyes, medium height, a litle 
slender but coming along nicely from 
what he could see. She had on a spring 
coat, a pale tweedy coat with big horn 
buttons. Je velvet hat was in her 
jerything she wore was brand 
new, obviously bought for her jour- 
ney, so she must be going a fair distance. 
“That was my sister who got off 
ack there at Staunton,” said Harry. 
She was supposed to travel on with 
me to New Orleans, but I guess you 
saw the bus driver give her that wire 
back up at Winchester.” 

The girl turned and looked at him. 
"No, І didn't," she said. 

“That was her husband Arthur who 
met her back there at Staunton with 
„ He'd wired ahead for her to 
Staunton. Didn't you see that 
e nigger come running with the 
ire back at Winchester?” 

." said tbe girl. "I didn't notice.” 
-“Arthur was afraid he wouldn't be 


able to make it to the bus, and wanted 
to be sure she got off. The baby has 
pneumonia." Harry sighed gloomily. "Sis 
and 1 were in Washington, D.C, visiting 
my older brother Bob, when we got word 
that Grandma was deathly ill of kidney 
uouble down in New Orleans" He 
sighed again, heavily. “All this sickness. 
It seems to be striking in every direc- 
tion.” 

"Well. I'm awful sorry to hear about 
it" said the girl. 

Harry then had one of his uncanny 
inspirations. Where they came from, he 
had no idea, but it was spooky the way 
he on things like this. He bowed 
his head, paused for several seconds, and 
said, "I don't mind telling you that I've 
been praying a little for my grand- 
mother.” He swallowed, with emotion. 
"It seems to help, too.” 

"Well, of course it does," answered 
the girl. “And that’s a kind of funny 
coincidence, because you know right 
now Fm on my way to a Young Folks 
Faith-in-Prayer Convention in Cleve- 
land, Tennessce. Isn't that а coinci- 
dence?" 

“Amazit said Harry. “Let me ask 
you something — but what's your name?" 

“Margaret,” said the girl. 

“Mine is Tom,” said Harry. He 
smiled. “Glad to know you, Margaret.” 

‘The girl blushed and smiled back. 
“Glad to know you, Tom.” 

Hany solemnly shook her little hand. 
Then he settled back in his seat and 
stared pensively into space. "Tell me 
something," he said. "Margaret, do you 
think Шаг. . . that God . . . really cares 
about what happens on the earth? I 
mean, take my grandmother, for in- 
stance." He turned on her his silvery 
eyes, eyes in which confusion and pain 
became sweet sorrow, "Now, all of a 
sudden, she gets this . . . this terrible 
kidney trouble. She may actually die. 
Irs awful, we all love her so. Do you 
think God really cares, Margaret? Are 
my prayers heard at alle” 

“I am sure they are,” said the girl. 

‘Three and a half hours later, in the 
gloomy dark night as the bus roared on 
through Virginia, Harry, not without 
effort and difficulty, got her panties 
down to her knees. At that point, she 
gave up and herself slipped them over 
her ankles and shoes. For a while, the 
panties lay in the dust on the floor, by 
the butts of Harry's cigarettes, then he 
reached down and picked them up and 
put them into his left coat pocket over 
his gun. 

Harry always carried his Beretta 
pistol with him, while waveling or when 
involved in any situation with which he 
was not familiar. It was a small-caliber, 
flat weapon exquisitely engraved with 
inlaid silver and gold. He had owned it 
ever since three very tough Irish boys 
gave him a severe beating a year before 


in South Chicago. That was one little 
hustle he hadn't taken in stride. He was 
coldly determined it would not happen 
again. Harry didn't like to be beat up. 
He liked to be the one who did the 
beating up. The gun, of course, was only 
for rare emergencies like that in Ch 
cago; he'd seen all he wanted of jails 
already. 

As dawn was breaking, an old farmer 
one seat up across the aisle began to 
crane his head around. The party was 
about over. Harry had spread his r: 
coat over his and the girl's laps like a 
blanket. He held her wrist in an iron 
grip with his left hand, and did not 
mind the pain in his cramped right 
hand. “Oh, please,” whispered the girl. 
“Don’t anymore.” In a futile effort at 
escape, the plump buttocks that strad- 
dled his wrist lifted again from the sea 
gluteus maximi contracted and firm. He 
held fast, middle finger uplifted and 
hand spread as if supporting her; then 
a strained trembling in midair, and 
helpless soft descent. "Oh, this is so 
wicked," she whispered. The old farmer 
coughed. Harry grinned and thrust 
harder, touching the hard girlish cervi 
with his fingertip, simultaneously twist- 
ing her thin wrist with his other hand. 
His smile broadened as the girl again 
turned white and once more got the 
startled look on her face, as if she heard 
some faraway ominous sound. “Stop it 
now,” she whispered. “It's making me 
sick again.” Harry gave her a little kiss 
on her sweaty temple. "You aren't sick, 
honey,” he said. “You're in love.” 

That was what she believed so he may 
as well kid her along. The questions she 
had asked were so hilarious he had al- 
most had to laugh out loud. Such as, 
“Does being in love always make you 
feel so weak and sick?” The girl hadn't 
a doubt that she was head over heels in 
love with him. Those hours in the dark 
һай more than convinced her. Ah, well. 
It was beginning to get to be quite light 
outside and the old farmer across the 
aisle was coughing his head off. Besides, 
better not take the edge off too much; 
it still might be possible to get her to 
stop off at а tourist cabin somewhere. 
Even so, it was with some reluctance that 
he removed his hand from under her 
plump bottom; she was а sweet little 
darling and he hated to let her go. 

Harry sat back in his seat and lit a 
cigarette and considered the situation. 
Cleveland, Tennessee, and that bunch 
of idiots down there were still some 
hours away, but she was being met down 
there by chaperones and all that. He 
would have to get her off the bus some 
where before they reached Cleveland 
But that was impossible, because the 
people down there undoubtedly were 
expecting her and would raise a fuss if 
she didn't show up. That would be im- 

(continued on page 62) 


AN 
S 
oo” 


food By THOMAS MARIO 


THERE ARE FEW THINGS more conducive to gargantuan appetites 
and prodigious thirsts than a long run through open water on 
a powerboat or sailing vessel. And there are no more felicitous 
surroundings in which to appease and slake the inner mariner 
than topside on a boat moored in a quiet cove, the summer still- 
ness broken only by the gentle lapping of gins and tonics against 
frosty tumblers. 

The kind of victuals you'll want for your boat depends for 
the most part on the length of your cruise and the size of your 
galley. If you're speedboating from one (continued on page 96) 


the first in a satirical review of how to succeed with women without really 


LET Us ASSUME you have come bouncing into the world, 
a brand-new human male, complete with all your 
equipment. 

It may seem, even to the casual observer, that you 
are well fitted out, and that you have obvious attributes 
that your sister does not. 

Chances are, too, that you will be larger and heavier, 
which may lead you to believe that you are also 
stronger and more durable. 

"This, unfortunately, is not the case. 

As а human male you are the weaker of the two 
sexes, until now doomed to poorer health and to an 
earlier death. 

"The figures are clear and convincing. In the United 
States the life expectancy of women is 73.9 years, of 
men 67.5. Women recover from diseases morc casily 
and frequently, are physically superior to men in 
almost every way. They are 16 times less likely to have 
color blindness, seven times less likely to have hysteria, 
eight times less likely to stutter, immunc to hemophilia, 
far less subject to epilepsy and many other diseases. 

Mentally, too, women are much more stable. You 
have only to take a swing through our mental hospitals 
to see that male patients far outnumber females. 


мну? 

Why is this true? You will find the answer in your 
chromosomes. The "Y," or male-producing sperm, 
were pitifully neglected by nature. They contain only 
a niggardly portion of the rich chromosomatic lode — 
the "X" chromosomes — of the female-producing sperm. 

Briefly, in the male something has been left out. 

Some have tried to shrug this off, as though a 
chromosome or two made little difference. They have 
only to look around them every day to see how tragi- 
cally wrong they are. 


THE 
SORRY PLIGHT 
OF 


By SHEPHERD MEAD 


Look about you. Note with a smile, if you dare, this 
tatterdemalion’ band of human males going bravely 
on, its hair thinning, its whiskers growing, its paunches 
expanding, its nerves twitching, its arches falling, with- 
out the real power of reproduction or the solace of 
motherhood 

Note how bravely they stride forward, head erect, 
eyes clear, courage firm—even though barren, sickly, 
mentally confused and doomed to an early grave. 

WHAT CAN WE DO? 

Is there any way we can save these tragic figures, any 
way to ease their pain, calm their nerves, save their 
strength, or settle their stomachs? 

The answer is a ringing YES! 

We can help the human male—and though the 
path is not an easy one, we can follow it, each of us, 
by reading and putting into effect some tested rules. 


BEGIN NOW 

Ir is never too early in life — nor too late — to begin 
this study. 

If you are a lad of five or six, having this read to 
you at your mother's knee, good! Like the ballet, the 
violin and the tightrope, really fine maleness should 
begin early. 

On the other hand, if you are crowding 70, it is still 
not too late to add happy years to your life. 

Regardless of your age, after the first few columns 
you will feel your load begin to lighten, your shoulders 
straighten, and a new look of courage come into your 
eyes. 

NIS a few more issues, you will flex your muscles 
quietly, and as the series gathers momentum, you may 
have to smother a quiet chuckle or suppress a con- 
fident grin. These will come, we must warn you, not 
from amusement, but from a new assurance, and an 
anticipation of triumphs to come. 


trying, by the author of “how to succeed in business without really trying" 


Our purpose, of course, is to instruct, not to amuse. 
Momentary laughter is of small value weighed against 
a happier and more abundant life. 

‘The scraps of talk must be taken with this in mind. 

They are intended, like the accompanying illustrations, 
only to illustrate difficult points. It may seem to you 
that they are all taken from a single real-life story — 
and so most of them are— but not every incident 
occurred to our central character. Several have been 
contributed by our researchers working from Maine to 
California. 
The author would like to make it particularly clear 
that this material is not autobiographical. A natural 
modesty prevents him from delving into the labyrinths 
of his own checkered career. 


How TO HELF YOUR MOTHER HELP YOU 
In your very cradle you will be told that there is 
nothing like a mother, and of course this is true. 
Your mother will be, in a sense, your first training 
ground. She will be your first contact with the female 
sex. Study her carefully. The lad who learns early how 
to get around his mother has made a fine start. 


LET BOOKS GUIDE YOU 

Luckily we live in an enlightened age, one in which 
child psychology has replaced the more vigorous meth- 
ods of raising children. 

However, even today it is not always safe to assume 
that your mother has a book on child guidance. If she 
does not, by all means supply her with one. Many 
fine volumes have been put out in paper covers and 
сап be bought for а few cents They are within the 
reach of any child's allowance, and are an excellent 
investment. Best not to let your mother know who 
bought the book, if you did. Try this method: 


“Mommy, why did Daddy bring this book home?" 


"Oh, did he, Davie?” (She will pick it up.) "Well, 
well. Daddy brought it, did he?” 

(Then of course you will have to speak to your 
father.) 

"Daddy, why did Mommy bring this book home?" 


‘This will cause a little harmless confusion and will 
guarantee a careful reading of the book. 

‘Though they come in many colors and sizes, you 
will find that these books are all built around one 
premise: the child is often misunderstood, but never 
really bad. Punishment merely causes resentment and 
injures the relationship between child and parent. 

Encourage this point of view. You will find that no 
matter what you do, you have done it for a deep- 
seated reason, and it wasn't your fault. In fact, the 
book will show that it was your parents fault. There 
is no such thing, you will discover, as a bad boy. 


“Charles, I don't know what to do with little 
David! He's been putting frogs in the deepfreeze 
again.” 

(Or whatever experiments you may have been 
carrying on.) 

“Well, shall I get out the old belt?” 

"Charles! It says right here — mischief is often a 
symptom that the child feels unloved and un- 
wanted.” 

"Oh?" 

"Why, you underlined it yourself!” 

^I didn't." 

Well, someone did. I think we should do some- 
thing nice for Davie.” 


Besides making life more bearable for you, these 
books will help you to keep your mother well adjusted. 
A mother who is uncertain, who feels at a loss for the 
right thing to do, is not a mother you will be proud to 


Pity the poor male without the solace of motherhood. 


PLAYBOY 


48 


show to your friends. 
After а while, as your mother becomes 

more confident, you can branch out into 

I sorts of activities. The more com- 

plicated you seem to her, the better. 
Be a challenge to her. 


CAN 1 SHAPE HER CHARACTER? 


So many of our young readers, un- 
satisfied with their mothers, ask us: 
"Can I improve her character?" The 
answer is yes. Concentrate on her mind. 


QUIET HER FEARS 

At one time or another all mothers 
are frightened. You may find that your 
mother develops strange unreasoning 
fears of normal, everyday things like 
rats, mice, snakes, toads or саа 
things you play with every 

Do not use these things against your 
mother, except when you feel you must 
take strong measures. A frightened 
mother is not an efficient mother, and 
you both will suffer. 

Instead, show her she has no real rea- 
son to be frightened 


“Here, Mom, just pick him up by 
the tail. He won't hurt you." 


Instill just enough fear so that she 
will be careful. A fearless mother can be 
а careless mother, and one that is diffi- 
cult to control. 


PUNISHMENT 

You may have to punish her from 
time to time. It vill not be pleasant, but. 
will result in a better mother. 

Tears and tanurums— used to punish 
mothers for so long — have little effect 
today. The best punishment is mental, 
and the keen lad thinks up a way that 
will suit his own mother's mind. 

Night tactics are particularly effective. 
Wake up at regular intervals during the 
night, say at one, three and five AM. 
Cry loudly. Soon your mother will a 
swer. You may be either (1) too hot, 
(2) too cold, (3) hungry, (4) thirsty, or 
(5) afraid of bad dreams. 

The expert, however, prefers the sim- 
ple meaningless wail, which cannot be 
disposed of with a “Well, go on down 
and get some graham crackers,” or other 
suggestions allowing the mother to stay 
in bed. She will come in on the double. 


“What's the matter, Da 

"Mother. you look lovely with 
your hair down!" 

(Choose ony of her good points. 
Flaitery here is effective.) 

“Are you all right?” 

“Almost, mother, almost. Nothing 
you can do. Just sit here awhile 
with me, will you?" 


If she takes you to a psychologist 
(and she may) it is best to take the fel- 
low aside quietly: 


"Yes, Master David?" 


“Just wanted to brief you, Doctor. 
I Mother says anything about howl 
ing at night, I pretend I did it. No 
frightening her, you know. 
‘ou didn't сту ош?” 
“Hardly! Ask Father.” 
(You mey assume your father will 
sleep through all this. Fathers al- 
ways do.) 


The doctor will comfort and reassure 
her. This is what he-has been trained 
for, and what he is well paid to do. 

Remember, though, that in most cases 
punishment of any kind is not necessary. 
Mothers are anxious for approval and 
will go to great lengths to obtain it. 

Give her the opportunity to please, 
and then be generous with your praise. 


^ WORD OF CAUTION 

By following these simple rules you 
can make your mother useful and 
happy. She will thank you for 

You will not only be saving your 
strength and soothing your nerves, jou 
will be learning, and what you learn in 
helping your mother will be valuable in 
dealing with other women. 

However, remember this major differ- 
ence between mothers and other fe- 
males; your mother is the only female 
who will want, from the start, to do 
something for you. Other women will 
always begin by wanting you to do some- 
thing for them. 

This is why it is so necessary to bring 
out the mother in all women as soon as 
possible. It is far easier to do than it 
sounds. We will go into it more fully 
in our later articles. 

Meanwhile, your body is growing. 
Make sure your character grows with it! 
HOW TO BE IRRESISTIBLE 
IN SHORT PANTS 

You may feel, once you have properly 
trained your mother, that you have no 
further need to worry about the female 
world. Unfortunately, this is not true. 

However, for the next 10 years or so, 
girls of your own age should be com- 
pletely beneath your notice. 

True, your first sight of the school- 
yard, filled with langhing girls, will ter- 
rify you. This feeling will last for several 
years — unless you remember this simple 
fact: males are afraid of females only at 
the time when females can do them no 
damage whatever, which is when the 
males are in short pants This is no 
doubt some simple instinct of nature, 
and should be disregarded entirely. 


SET YOUR SIGHTS MGH 
Devote much of your attention during 
this period to the playing fields. You 
will be building the fine physique that 
will be so valuable in later years 
But indoors, remember that your first 
exercises as a human male have begun. 
Concentrate entirely on mature wom- 


en and begin practicing the masculine 
charm which will later become second 
nature to you. The lad who learns how 
to charm women while still in short 
pants will have few worries in the try- 
ing years to come. 

BE A LITTLE BOY 

Though your object will be to charm 
the fully grown female, you will succeed 
best by being a little boy. 

This is effective суеп when you are a 
little boy, and later, when you are not, 
it will still be good. Thus it is impor- 
tant not only to seem as little as pos- 
sible, but to remember how you did it. 

It is not as simple as it seems. For 
example, one of the best ways to seem 
litile is to pretend to be big. 


"Sce how big I am, Miss Jones?” 
"My goodness, you are big, 
Davie!” 

“Feel my musclel" 

(Do not harden the muscle fully 
in these demonstrations. No use te- 
vealing your true strength.) 


You will soon discover that actual 
size has nothing to do with it. Women 
prefer tall men and small boys—and 
they are happiest of all when they find 
a male who is both at the same time. 


BE UNBUTTONED 

This is closely related but subtly dif- 
ferent. Being unbuttoned is an attitude, 
and can be assumed by expert boys with 
every button firmly buttoned. 

Women, you will soon learn, have a 
fetish for neatness in everything but 
human males. They fidget to see a lit- 
tered desk or a cluttered living room, 
but they have a weakness for men who 
look tousled and unbuttoned. 

You must learn, while you are still 
portable, to be an island of confusion in 
a sea of tidiness. А smudge here, a smear 
of lipstick there, or shoes on the wrong 
feet — these are all good. 

The real expert, however, can simply 
assume an unbuttoned expression with- 
out disturbing a hair. This takes prac 
tice but will be most useful in later 
years. 


DE INCOMPETENT 

Women will always like yon more for 
what they do for you than for what you 
do for them. This is true at any age, 
and it is well to begin practicing it 
early. Seem to be a blundering but lov- 
able idiot. 


“Tm just all thumbs when it 
comes to tying ties. Will you help 
me, Miss Jones? Father says you're 
such a comfort in the office.” 

"I'd love to, Davie! Just jump up 
on my lap." 
She may not be able to tic as neat a 
knot as you can, but you will soon 
(concluded on page 110) 


THE BAND 


in which a young reporter learns that the honey taste of crime can sate and cloy and kill 


YOU WILI FORGIVE ME if I tell you — with 
a little admiration — about some crimi- 
nals I once knew. They were part of my 
youth which, by itsclf, makes them ad 
mirable. But they were also brave, cour- 
teous and fond of us newspaper Neds. 
They never told lies, except to the po- 
lice; never robbed any fellow man of his 
good name, only of his life if the situa- 
tion called for it. And I remember no 
crook who was greedy, or no crook who 
thought that moncy made a тап. 

And how harmless these crooks seem 
alongside today's honorables who are 
nobly determined to blow up our planet 
so that the ideals of freedom shall not 
perish. Let us hope the surviving in- 
sects will be smart enough to admire our 
aspirations. This way, ants and glow- 
worms — crawl up for a look at the high- 
falutin print and paper records left 
behind by humanity! 

My apologies for sneaking this end. 
of-the-world epitaph into my gay story. 
Let the politicians wrestle with their 
grand finale. I'll hang on to yesterday 
“and my criminals. 

An ideal spot for consorting with 
criminals was Big Jim Colosimo's Café, 
after three a.m. Mossy Enright, Gene 
Geary, Tommy O'Connor, Blackie Weed 
—a bevy of well-barbered knaves beck- 
‘ons, masticating their porterhouse steaks 
and listening moodily to Big Jim's or- 
chestra play The Chocolate’ Soldier, 
Madame Sari, The Red Mill. But ГИ 
pass them over for Big Jim himself, the 
most deserving for recall. And he is, too, 
sort of backstop for my story. 

Big Jim Colosimo had begun his ca- 
reer, Horatio Alger fashion, as a street 
sweeper in a white suit, with a long- 
handled brush and a garbage can on 
wheels. One summer morning, Madame 
Victoria, lolling in her brothel window, 
noted the eyeflashing, six-footthrec 
sweeper tidying the street in front of 
her doorstep. She whistled at him. Big 
Jim dropped his long-handled brush and 
strode into Victoria's house, and Chicago 
history. 

They married and within 10 years Jim 
put 22 affiliated whorehouses into ac- 
r all stocked with evening-gowned 
lassies, hopheaded pimps and pale piano 
players. In his rise as brothel king of 
Chi Colosimo's name "had bcen 
(as the libel-ducking newspapers 
gingerly put it) with 12 murders and 91 
near lethal sluggings. The road to suc 


memoir By BEN HECHT 


cess is ever a bumpy one. But there were 
no unpleasant legal consequences for this 
carnage. This was because Big Jim had 
unselfishly declared the town's police 
and judiciary in on his whorehouse har- 
vest. He raised “the fix” in the U.S.A. 
from furtive bribery to big business. In- 
deed, all our public guardians of today 
swanking around on their underworld 
takes must pay homage to Jim Colosimo 
as the founding father of their corrup- 
tion. 

With his 23 sex centers booming, 
and his dope peddling and crooked 
gambling activities in high, Colosimo 
divorced the impressionable Victoria 
who had whistled at him one summer 
morning. He opened his tony café on 
the Near South Side. A commanding 
figure in tuxedo, diamond studs and well- 
greased hair, he presided here nightly, 
respected and admired by Chicago's 
flossiest citizens. Bigwigs of industry, 
politics and the arts felt enhanced by 
his handshake. Next to Mayor William 
Hale Thompson, who was stealing the 
city blind, Colosimo was our ranking 
celebrity. 

After Big Jim was gunned down one 
dawn in a phone booth (by “parties un- 
known" — whom every reporter in town 
could name), I covered his funeral—a 
cavalcade of éclat and officialdom worthy 
a hero of the land. Nearly every whiskey- 
nosed magistrate who owned a silk hat, 
and more dignitaries of every stripe than 
had been assembled since the Chicago 
Fire, rode in the grieving procession. 
Several hundred thousand humbler j- 
zens crowded the line of march and filled 
the air with lamentation as Big Jim 
moved by in his $10,000 brass coffin, with 
a 50-piece band tooting him softly to 
his resting place, Tagging after his hearse 
were 30 open automobiles stuffed with 
flowers. Not a blossom was left on sale 
in Chicago that дау. 

Vale, Jim Colosimo. But back to his 
café on a night of his reign, when hc 
still gloried and drank deep. By three 
AM. the higher types of café society, 
full of wine, food and preparatory neck- 
ing, had tectered off to their priapic 
chambers. And the people of the night 
started to eat, drink and discourse at the 
always snowy-linened tables provided 
by Mr. Colosimo. The four-pie 
chestra—a piano, cello and two 
—dozed between offerings. But the wait- 

(continued on page 52) 


49 


attire 


festive and fettlesome resortwear 
for july declarations 
of independence 


be the balmiest in a month of 
spree de corps of this beachnik brigade. L 


denim shirt with mandarin collar, 


Heeding the sartorial call of the wild, summer sportswear will 


sun-days — as aptly embodied by the 
to т: an aquanut oarbits in cotton 
$8, cotton denim shorts with side zip- 
per, elastic back panel, $6, both by Sea Squire. Farsighted avant guard sports 


nylon-tricot tank suit, by Speedo-White Stag, $4. Butterfingered cone-man scoops fashion scene 


ith si i inental culls, no 
in cotton mattress-ticking jacket with single button, side vents, Contine: 


pockets, by Bill Miller, $35; cotton beach shirt, $6, acetate-cotton-rubber stretch-knit 


Swim trunks with front belt, squared legs, $5, both by Catalina; rubber-soled leather slip-ons, by Jags, $11. 
ET i 


Style hip twister cuts rug in combed-cotton pullover with poncho front, 34 sleeves, by 
Jayson, $5; cotton stretch pants with foot stirrups, -top pockets, by HIS, $10. Fascr 
trial balloonist is a gas in fitted swim pants with self belt, 


ing 
foot stirrups, $15, 
cotton-knit boat-neck pullover with 34 sleeves, poncho tails, $6, both by Jantzen. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY CARROLL SEGHERS I1/ VINCENT TAJIRI 


PLAYBOY 


52 


BANDIT assa from page 1) 


crs were on their toes like a football 
line. for it was now boom time for tips. 
Who were these night people? Killers, 
burglars, pimps, stickup men called “on 
the muscle” boys, and an aristocracy of 
con men who could speak like London 
fops and order their food with French 
phrases. All these with their ladies fair. 
run of wenches: a 
few beauties with explosive bosoms and 
foothigh Spanish combs stuck in their 
hair. But most of them were more spar- 
row than macaw. For they were seldom 
pickups or brothel loan-outs, but ladies 
who had earned the trust of their law- 
breaking males. Beauty and lechery were 
of minor importance in their females. 
Sex was seldom a vital diversion. to 
cooks. Danger and violence prcoccu- 
icd their nerve centers, and. sensuality 
as an also-ran. Young, old, voluptuous 
or stringy, their women had one quality 
common — they were voiceless. 

l sat this night with a new friend 
ng for dawn while listening to 
stories from some of our fellow drinkers, 
What stories they werel Not even our 
crack newspaper raconteurs could ui 
cork gaudicr, merrier tales than these 
villains of the town. All the cockeyed 
plot turns | was to use in a spate of 
movie scripts were given me by these 
night-people talkers. 

My new friend was Lionel Moisse. He 
had come to town in the spring from the 
Kansas City Star and landed on Hearst's 
Examiner. 

Moisse was tall, with warrior muscles, 
His bony face offered a broken nose as а 
signature of trouble, A tangle of blond- 
ish hair gave him a windblown look. He 
had iron fists and a homicidal temper to 
go with them. When unprovoked, how- 

ver, his head was abuzz with Byron, 
Keats and Walt Whitman. He brooded 
about writing fine novels as soon as he 
found time. He had brought a disciple 
with him from Kansas — a hard-muscled, 
pretty boy named Ernest Hemingway. 
Alter a month, the disciple disappeared. 

"Poor Ernie,” Moisse explained, “had 
to take a job with a house organ for a 
furniture factory. He's writing dithy- 
yambs about mahogany bureaus. God 
help him. 

Moisse's distinction among us was not 
his barroom knockouts or his mooning 
over literature, It was his prowess as а 
lover. Within five months of his arrival 
in town, a Lionel Moisse Suicide Club 
had been formed by a number of young 
who had unsuccessfully sought 
ter the tumultous Lionel had 
rid himself of their company. One of 
the members, a poetess in high standing 
at Jack Jones’ Dill Pickle Club, said 
to me: 

"FH know better after this than to 


wome: 


death 


love a man with a poet's soul. It's like 
loving the west wind." 

Oddly, it was Moisse who was full of 
lover's woes this night in Colosimo's. His 
girl, ап ex-Sp: dancer named Con- 
chita, had flown their love nest. 

Moisse met the señorita after her re- 
covery from a railroad accident. She had 
suffered an amputation and been fitted 
with a wooden lcg. Shortly after her hos- 
pital release, Moisse met, courted and 
won her love. But triumph made him 
wary. It was Moisse's credo that any 
woman who loved him was merely re- 
hearsing for her next amour. 

To insure Conchita's fidelity, Moisse 
removed the dancer's wooden leg every 
cvening and toted it to the Examiner 
where he stored the detached limb in 
a locker. His work done, he returned 
happily to his beloved's side and damped 
the leg back in place. 

He had returned, thus burdened, a 
few days ago and found his nest empty. 
Conchita, presumably with the aid of 
а new flame, had acquired a second 
wooden leg and run off. 

Moisse removed a note from his pocket 
and read it aloud at our table — “Dear 
Lionel, you can keep my leg as а sou- 
venir. Гуе got a nicer one with much 
better knee action. Yours truly, Con- 
chit 

He burned the note in a saucer and 
spoke over the ashes, “There's only 
one thing you can detach from a woman 
to keep her faithful. But who wants to 
carry that around all day?” He looked 
up and added, “Our litde pal is knock- 
ing at the gave.” 

We had picked up an odd admirer in 
our tour of the night spots—an under- 
sized dude in a lightgray suit and a 
blue polka-dot tie. Although Moisse and 
I were not moochers (by profession), we 
had no objection to a host staking us 
to filet mignon and Chateau Yquem. 

Our patron was always alone. He had 
joined up with us several times and sat 
listening to us talk shop. He sat smil- 
g at our stories of murders, suicides, 
infidelitics, con games and other devil- 
s of the town. He had pale eyes, whit- 
ish blond hair and his skimpy physique 
its pastel clothing had a dolllike 
look. His wallet bulged with greenbacks 
which I sensed were not honestly ac- 
quired. But our tales never lured him 
to any anecdote of his own. 

Aware that this lonely little dude who 
sought our company was a crook of some 
sort, Moisse and 1 asked questions. But. 
the only information wc pricd out of 
him was that he had no friends or rela- 
tives and. that he had quitted the Divi- 
sion Street High School in his sophomore 
year because everybody, including the 
teachers, took turns at beating him up. 


Beyond this, we knew only his name, 
Teddy Webb. 

Newspaper headlines in a few weeks 
would end the silence of this nightspot 
dandy. MURDEROUS BANDIT WEBE KILIS 
AGAIN, POLICE DOUBLE HUNT FOR KILLER- 
FIEND WEBB. And one I remember nostal- 
gically, POLICE CHIEF SCHEUTTLER FUMES 
OVER POSTCARD FROM HUNTED KILLER — 
“DEAR WOODEN SHOES, GO CATCH FISH 
— TEDDY WEBB. 

But on this night in Colosimo's we 
saw only a dapper hanger-on. He was 
having some trouble getting admitted. 
Obviously, this was his first time at Big 
Jim's door, Seeing us, he waved, pointed. 
nd the hefty headwaiter let him in. He 
headed for our table, greeted us defer 
entially, sat down and ordered food and 
wine for three. He had an unusual 
voice for so slight a body—a baritone 
that might have come out of a beer 
bellied wrestler. 

No sooner had Teddy Webb finished 
his ordering than Moise started the 
tale-telling. "That was the way of the 
newspaper man in that day — to start ир 
a story for no other reason than that 
2 listener had appeared. 

Lionel's topic this evening was the 
exotic death of the Reverend Henry 
Blossom. We had both covered the story 
a few weeks before. 

"The Reverend Blossom, Moisse related 
fondly, had been found asphyxiated in 
the basement of his West Side church. 
He lay dead on the cement floor with 
his trousers off, beside the half-nude 
body of a lady parishioner, also dead 
from asphyxiation. A few soft pillows 
buoyed up her corpse. 

"In the ardor of his lovemaking,” 
Moisse related, "the busy parson un- 
knowingly kicked open a gas jet with 
his foot. The happy couple remained 
locked in each other's arms until death 
interrupted. their love rites. Tell me a 
more pleasing way to perish. It reminds 
me of the vengeful taxidermist in Kan- 
sas City whose pretty wife succumbed to 
à prominent roué. I wrote the lead after 
the police found her body, “The stuffing 
that dreams аге made of —” 

A man tapped my shoulder and said, 
“The boss wants to see you.” It was a 
flattering summons. 

He handed me a U.S. Army discharge 
card signed by a colonel. Its two typed 
lines read: 

"Name — Capone, Alphonse, 
Character — Excellent.” 

Colosimo’s office looked like a man 
darin's lair. t was crowded with elabo- 
rately carved Chinese furniture and 
ivory inlaid screens. The walls were cov. 
cred to the ceiling with inscribed photo- 
hs from the world's notables. 
it down, kid," Big Jim said. "Why 1 
called you in is to tell you that that 

(continued on page 106) 


* an over-the-counter brief 
encounter nets us our july playmate 


super . 
salesgirl 


hen Pamela Anne Gordon appeared as 

Miss March this year, PLAYBOY staffers 
and readers alike were pleasantly alerted to the 
Playmate potential of Canadian north-of-the- 
border girls. For our Miss July, we once again 
chose a choice denizen of Vancouver, British 
Columbia: her name is Unne Terjesen and she 
was brought to our attention by sharp-eyed 
counter spies who spotted her working as a 
salesgirl in a downtown department store. 
Those who judge this statuesque (5777) and 
honey-haired miss a perfect Nordic phototype 
do so with good reason, for 19-year-old Unne 
was born and raised in the village of Odda, 
Norway, where she worked as a hair stylist, 
won several local beauty shows and in 1960 
was a comely runner-up in the Miss Norway 
contest. Two years ago she, her parents and 
three older brothers set sail for Canada and a 
homeaway-from-home in Vancouver; once 
settled in this beauty-blessed city, our well- 
rounded traveler (39-23-39) took up her 
current soft-sell chores. Not surprisingly, in- 
digo-eyed Unne is fond of wintry sports such 
as skiing and skating; she also has an improb- 
able penchant for full-throttle jaunts through 
the Canadian countryside at the helm of her 
brother's Harley-Davidson motorcycle. She's 
an amateur painter, is swayed by Sinatra’s 
swinging, and prefers dating personable guys 
with a sense of humor (nothing depresses her 
more than sobersided types who can’t give or 
take a joke). Hopefully, the future holds more 
in store for her than stores: Says Miss July, 
"Right now, I have three ambitions — to be- 
come a successful model, to own a shiny new 
black Mercedes-Benz convertible, and to travel, 
especially to see the skyline of New York." For 
an even more inspiring silhouette, we recom- 
mend a perusal of the accompanying gatefold. 


COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO CASILLI, BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY BY KEN HONEY 


Lady-in-waiting Unne Terjesen handles the tulles of her trade with perfect poise and unassuming grace. 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES 


Latest ragstoriches story — Texas style — con- 
cems a young man from Dallas who inherited 


five million dollars, and proceeded to run it 
into а small fortune. 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines ecstasy as 
something that happens between the Scotch 
and soda and the bacon and eggs. 


Daughter,” said the suspicious father, “that 
young man who's been walking you throug! 
the park strikes me as being exceedingly un- 
polished.” 

“Well,” she answered coyly, “he is a little 
rough around the hedges.” 


What some young ladies refer to as a diary 
might be more aptly described as a whodunit. 


Though Wilbur Simpson appeared to be in 
ood health for a man in his middle 40s, his 
loctor informed him that his blood pressure 

was disturbingly high and, unless he quit his 
job at once and took a complete rest for at 

Es: a year, he should not expect to be around 
to enjoy his middle 50s. Like many a man 

before him, Wilbur had been so busy keeping 
up with the Joneses, he'd neglected to put any- 
thing away for an emergency, but his loving 
wife, Mildred, expressed a real willingness to 
go to work and support them both till he was 
back on his fect. Unfortunately, Wilbur had 
not married his sweet wife for her brains, 
and there were very few jobs about for cven as 
attractive a middle-aged woman as she that 
would produce anything close to the kind of 
income they had been used to living on. So, 


with understandable reservations, but recog- 
nizing it was truly a matter of life or death, 
they decided that the only profession for which 
the unskilled Mildred could hope to qualify, 
and earn any real money, was the world's oldest. 

Wilbur choked back his misgivings as he 
watched his wife depart on the first day's ad- 
venture, but he credited himself with being a 
sophisticated and worldly man, and he had to 
adait that this was the one profession for 
which Mildred was well suited. She was still 
а well-proportioned and attractive woman, 
and, if she could just remember to keep track 
of her earnings, she might do very well, indeed. 
But at the end of the first day, Mildred arrived 
home a sorry sight, her clothes dirty and dis- 
arranged, in а state of near exhaustion. 

“It certainly looks as though you've been a 
busy girl on your first day,” said Wilbur sym- 
pathetically. “How much did you earn, dear?” 

“Thirty-six dollars and a quarter," moaned 
Mildred. 

“That isn’t very much money for 12 hours 
said Wilbur. “Who gave you the quarter; 

Mildred collapsed on the sofa and smiled 
weakly. “Why, silly,” she said, “all of them, of 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines falsies as 
absentease. 


Having received a return from a bachelor 
executive who claimed a dependent son, an 
income-tax i 


aspector sent the form back with 
ing, “This must be a stenographic 
Back came the report with the added 
: "You're telling me!” 


A number of showgirls were entertaining the 
troops at a remote Army camp. They had been 
at it all afternoon and were not only tired but. 
very hungry. Finally at the close of their per- 
formance the major asked, "Would you girls 
like to mess with the enlisted men or the offi 
cers this evening?" 

"It really doesn't make any difference,” 
spoke up a shapely blonde. "But we've just 
got to have something to eat first.” 


Heard any good ones lately? Send your favor- 
ites to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 232 E. 
Ohio St., Chicago 11, Il., and earn $25 for 
each joke used. In case of duplicates, payment 
goes to first received. Jokes cannot be returned. 


“That's my wife — we're taking separate vacations this year.” 


61 


GUY LUCEY HAD HAD A SECRETARY of his 
own for only a month, and he still felt 
a secret pride every morning when she 
came into his unitized-panel office and 
asked, “What is the schedule for today, 
Mr. Lucey?" 

It was true that Miss Halvorson was 
in her middle 40s, totally humorless, and 
almost totally chinless; she had been 
dredged, so to speak, from the bottom 
of the secretarial pool. But, Guy told 
himself, Scale 8 was the first scale at 
Greater United Foods where a man got 
a secretary of his own, and you couldn't 
exactly specify a Jayne Mansfield type. 

This morning, however, Miss Halvor- 
son didn't ask her usual question. In- 
stead, she handed Guy a scaled envelope, 
and said, "Mr. Millikin's secretary asked 
me to give you this. You're to call Mr. 
Millikin as soon as you can to discuss 
it with hi 

Guy set his cardboard coffee container 

on the desk blotter. 
Personal and Confidential.’ What's 
it all about, Miss Halvorson?” 

“I have no idea, Mr. Lucey. Mr. Milli- 
kin's secretary asked . . .” 

‘OK, OK. Thanks. I have some letters 
and reports, but they better wait until I 
take care of this. ГИ holler when Fm 
rcady." 

"Yes, Mr. Lucey.” 

When she had gone, Guy ripped open 
the envelope. Mr. Millikin, Greater 
United's Vice-President in Charge of 
Personnel, n't send many “Personal 
and Confidential” notes, Guy thought 
And he particularly didn't send them to 
junior executives in the Market Research 
Department. 


4‹ 


the vice-president in charge 
of personnel was worried; 
some of the younger men 
were killing themselves 
with overwork 


THE 


RIGHT MAN 
FOR THE 
RIGHT JOB 


Siction By J, C. THOMPSON 


Guy unfolded the single sheet of 
paper: 


PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL 


FROM: S. V. Millikin, Vice-President, 
Personnel 

то: Guy Lucey, Assistant Statisti- 
cian, Market Research Department, 
National Sales Division, General Of- 
fice. 


Dear Mr. Lucey: 
An opportunity has arisen within 
the company which may interest 
you. Will you please call me soon зо 
that we can set a time to discuss it. 


This will probably involve your tak- 
ing a series of aptitude tests; please 
arrange your schedule so that the 
next three or four days are as clear 
as possible. 

SVM 


Guy set the memo down on his desk, 
sipped his lukewarm сойсс, and pon- 
dered. ". . . opportunity . . ."? Hell's 
bells, I just gota raise out of the adding 
machine bullpen to Scale 8. I hope 
they're not going to send me back out 
there. Guy put the coffee container care- 
fully into his wastebasket so as not to 
splash out the dregs, picked up his “in- 
side" telephone, and dialed “O.” 

“Mr. Millikin, please.” 

The appointinent was for after lunch, 
so Guy ate alone. He didn't want to have 
even one drink before the meeting, and 
he didn't want to explain his abstinence 
to the fellows he usually ate with. 

At two minutes to two, Guy got off the 
elevator at the l7th-floor “mahogany 
row," and announced himself to the 
receptionist. 


Mr. Millikin had a folder on his desk, 
Guy's own personal file. He looked up 
and smiled at Guy, but did not rise or 
offer to shake hands. 

"Afternoon, Lucey. Sit down. I ap- 
preciate your getting in touch with me 
so promptly. You're probably wondering 
what this is all about." 

“Yes sir, I am.” 

"Well, Lucey, I can't tell it all to 
you, but I'll try to hit the high spots. 
First, though, let's take a look at"— 
Millikin looked down at the folder— 
"where you've been, and where you 
think you're going, right?” 

“Yes sir, fine.” 

"Let's see. You're 29. Good school. 
Bus Ad major. Pretty fair grades. Mar- 
ried.” Millikin looked up sharply. “Нар- 
pily married, Lucey?” 

“Yes sir, I guess I am.” 

“No spats, no arguments?" 

"ҮН PE g 

“Never mind, it's not really impor- 
tant. Children?” 

“Two lovely little girls, sir. Six and 


four. 

“Fine, fine. Now then, you went from 
college to American Chemicals, in ac- 
counting. And two years later you 
joined us.” He looked up again. "How 
do you feel about that decision now?” 

“Well, fine. I think I have a good fu- 
ture here, sir.” 

“Yes. I've been talking with Tinkham, 
your immediate superior. He tells me 
that since your elevation to Scale 8 
you've been applying yourself well — 
long hours, taking work home with you, 
and so on. Right?” 

"I'm trying to do the best I can, Mr. 

(continued on page 80) 


63 


PLAYBO 


BUS STORY (continued from page 41) 


possible, anyhow. Despite the limp con- 
diti she was in, she'd never in this 
world cold-bloodedly agree to go with 
him to a hotcl room or a tourist cabin. 
So that was out. It was a pity, really, 
because five minutes alone with her and 
the story would have a different ending. 
But how? There was no way. He would 
have to make the best of it. Maybe one 
of these days he would pass through 
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and he could 
it off then. 

He looked at her and smiled. A dim 
corona of blurred lipstick circled her 
mouth from the endless kisses of the long 
night. Too long a night. Harry himself 
felt awful. He needed her so badly he 
hurt ill over. If there was only some way 
... but there wasn't. Oh, well. The best 
he could do was set it up for the future, 
in case he ever got to that town. He 
stared almost resentfully at her as she 
tried to put on fresh lipstick. "Do you 
really love me?" he asked. 

"The girl blushed and said, "Why else 
do you think I've acted like I have?” 

“That was my fault," said Harry nobly, 
changing his tack. “I lost control of my 
head, and took advantage of you." 

"Well, I let you," she answered, eyes 
down. 

“The truth . . . is that I want to make 
real love to you," said Harry gently. No 
soap. A blank look was coming into her 
eyes. The very idea was inconceivable to 
her. She'd never get off that bus. He 
sighed and looked back toward the front. 
He just couldn't help it; if there was one 
thing he hated, it was letting a score get 
away. “The thought that I won't ever 
see you again depresses me terribly,” he 


“Maybe you'll see me sometime. 

"To amuse himself in a bleak situati 
Harry replied, “I almost feel like cancel- 
ing my trip to Panama.” 

“Panama?” 

“Umm-hmm.” 

“You inean, the Panama Canal?” 

“Yes, I'm going down there. Didn't I 
tell you?” 

“But you said you were going to New 
Orleans.” 

"I am," replied Harry calmly. “But I 
will embark from New Orleans by fruit 
boat for Panama.” 

The girl stared with interest. “Why 
are you going to Panama?” 

“Well, you see,” said Harry, “I have 
an uncle down there who has a conces- 
sion to sell liquor to the soldiers.” Harry 
paused, realizing this wasn’t in character; 
at once a moody, rather depressed ex- 
pression came into his silver-gray cycs. 
“He wants me to go down there and help 
him with the business. But I disapprove 
morally of liquor and so there has al- 
ready been a lot of doubt in my mind 
about making the trip.” 


“Well, don't go, then,” said the girl. 

“Yes, but you see, I need an opera- 
tion,” said Harry, improvising blandly as 
he went along. “And my only chance of 
getting it is through my rich 

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. Is 
serious operation?" 

Harry paused, a look of embarrass- 

ment coming on his handsome features. 
“Well, it's a sort of special operation, 
argaret," he said quietly. 
"Oh." she answered. Several seconds 
went by. Harry could feel the curiosity in 
her. Finally she said, “Is it very danger- 
ous, this operation?" 

Now might be as good a time asany to 
reveal to her the fact that he was sterile 
and could not have children, thus it was 
perfectly safe for апу girl to share his 
bed. This was true. A stubborn case of 
gonorrhea at the age of 15 had rendered 
Harry permanently sterile. The ailment 
had been cured, but Harry could never 
be a father. It didn't bother him, to say 
the least; he had found the fact of his 
sterility invaluable in soothing the anxi- 
ety of a score that she might get preg- 
nant. He always let the fact drop in one 
way or another. A bit of a problem, 
though, how to drop it in this case. 

Harry cleared his throat and said, 
the operation isn’t dangerous, but 
very expensive, because it’s so delicate.” 
He turned and looked into her eyes and 
said sadly, "You see, honey, I am unable 
to have any children.” 

The startled look on her face almost 
made Harry smile, but he didn't, he con- 
tinued to stare at her with a pensive sad- 
ness. 

"Oh," she said. 

doesn't affect me, as a man," he 
said. "I mean, 1 am able to marry and 
everything, but you see, Mother Nature 
made just a little tiny mistake and I was 
born not entirely normal, though you'd 
never know it and it takes an extremely 
expensive laboratory test to show it.” 

"Oh," said the girl, “well, I didn't 
mean to pry.” 

"Thats all right, Um not sensitive 
about it,” answered Harry. “The truth 
is you really ought to know about this. 
1 want you to know about it.” 

Something was puzzling her. A frown 
was between her eyes. She asked finally, 
“But what's that got to do with your 
going to Panama to work for your 
uncle?" 

"Thats what I was telling you," said 
Harry. “To get the money from my uncle 
for this new operation. You see, my con- 
dition used to be incurable, but not any- 
more. There's this brilliant doctor in 
Berlin, Germany, who has worked out a 
new operation to cure just what I've got 
Now, I've always felt bad about not be- 
ing able to be a father, but the trouble 
is the only man who can do this opera- 


tion so far is this doctor himself. You see, 
its a very delicate operation, and takes 
about five hours.” He paused, as if con- 
sidering a problem, then asked gently, 
“Do you want me to explain the opera- 
tion to you, honey?" 

“Well,” said the girl, blushing, “if you 
want to.” 

“I think I ought to," said Harry. He 
hesitated, then cook her hand and looked 
into her cyes and said, “You see, honey, 
a man is a very complicated thing. Now, 
deep in my tummy, honey, there are 
some little tiny, tiny tubes, and it's 
through those little tiny tubes that the 
cells come to make babies. Now, you sce, 
honey, sometimes Mother Nature gets a 
little careless, and leaves those tubes all 
closed up. Then, even though that man 
can live a normal life and make love to 
girls and you'd never dream anything 
was wrong, he won't ever be a father, 
that poor mai 

“I know,” said the girl in a low, awed 
tone. “We studied about it in biology 
class It . . . it's a miracle, isn’t it?” 

“Honey, it's amazing. But what this 
brilliant doctor in Germany has done is 
to figure out a marvelous way to take 
tiny litde needles and work them 
through cach tube in turn. It's a simply 
marvelous thing, this operation. To give 
you an idea how marvelous it really is, 
this doctor has to use a magnifying glass 
even to see those tubes, they're so small. 
Now, you can imagine what a steady 
hand it must take to guide those little 
tiny needles through those almost invi 
ble tubes. Isn't that simply amazing?" 

All of this was delivered in a thought- 
ful, measured tone of utter solemnity. 
Harry could not have been more sincere; 
his own awe at the brilliant doctor in 
Berlin, who could stick invisible needles 
through invisible tubes, was quite gen- 
uine. Still, in the back of his mind, he 
thought perhaps this time he'd laid it on 
just a bit too thick. But not at all. The 
girl was staring in rapt fascination. “It 
sure is,” she sighed. “He must be very 
smart, that doctor.” 

“Oh, he's brilliant, just brilliant,” said 
Harry. “But the operation costs three 
thousand dollars. And that, honey, is 
why I'm going to Panama on that fruit 
boat next week.” 

“Can't you get the money some other 


“Maybe. But I never had the incen- 
tive, until now. I never thought I'd want 
to get married, so what did it matter?" 
now?” 


The girl was silent а moment, then 
asked, “Does it always work?” 

Harry, who was still trying to think of 
some way to get her into а hotel room, 
didn't catch her meaning. "Does what 
always work?" he asked. 

"Why, that operation." 

(continued. on. page 92) 


THROUGH 
THE RACIAL 


LOOKING 
GLASS 


article Ву МАТ HENTOFF 


A PERCEPTIVE REPORT ON 
THE AMERICAN NEGRO AND 
HIS NEW MILITANCY FOR 
UNCOMPROMISING EQUALITY 


DURING A- BRITISH CONCERT last fall, 
Dizzy Gillespie dedicated a number 
to “mother Africa." -Looking at the 
audience with -a choractecistically 
mocking smile, he added; “We're 
going to take over the world, sa 
you'd better get used to it." 

The listeners chuckled, secure in 
their own freedam from prejudice 
and canvinced that the grinning Dizzy 
was simply clowning as,usual. A few 
nights later, a group of British jazz- 
men held а private patty in honor of 
Dizzy. Toward dawn, Gillespie burst 
into ап impramptu lecture: "You pea- 
ple had better just lie down and die. 
You've lost Asia and Africa, and now 
they're cutting out fram white power 
everywhere, You'd better give up or 
begin їо learn how it feels being a 
minority." 

Dizzy was still laughing, but he 
wasn't clowning. Gillespie is no racist 
in the sense of the bitter, separatist 
sects- such( às. Elijah Muhammad's 
Temples of Islam. He has led several 
integratéd bands and has many non- 
token white friends; but Dizzy's ir- 
repressible race pride daes partly 
symbolize the accelerating change in 
American Negroes’ attitudes toward 
whites—including white liberals— 
and taward: themselves. 

They are generating those “winds 
of social, revolution" which labar 


T ر‎ 


PLAYBOY 


leader A. Philip Randolph has warned 
the A.F.L-C.LO., "are blowing on every 
institution in the country." Some of the 
winds are destructive and represent ugly, 
reverse racism— Crow Jim. Others are 
inchoate and so far are powered more 
by smoldering emotions than by specific 
programs. The strongest are those forces 
for immediate and final integration 
which are directed with varying tech- 
niques by such groups as the N.A.A.C.P., 
the Congress of Racial Equality, and 
Martin Luther King's Southern Chris- 
tian Leadership Conference. 

The one organic change which now 
applies to nearly all Negro adults — in- 
duding the vast majority of the unor- 
ganized — has been underlined by James 
Baldwin: “The American Negro can no 
longer be, nor will ever be again, con- 
trolled by white America’s image of 
him." The intensity and extent of this 
self-emancipation are revealed in come- 
dian Dick Gregory's explosion during a 
candid interview with Paul Krassner in 
The Realist: 

“I'm so goddamn sick and tired of a 
white man telling us about us — he can't. 
He tells us, "Wait, take your time.’ You 
can't tell me to wait. You're not black 
24 hours а day. . . . This is the right the 
white man has been assuming for years 
—that he can assume to know more 
about us than we know about ourselves. 
And this is wrong. Because he don't. He 
knows about us what we want him to 
know. . . . He never follows us home. 

.. We are better qualified to write 
about the white man in this country 
than he's damn-near qualified to write 
about his own self. Because he do things 
around us because we don't count that 
his friends know nothing about.” 

The Negro maid has certainly ob- 
served more about her employers than 
they have ever realized, “The employer,” 
playwright Lorraine Hansberry adds 
pointedly, "doesn't go to the maid's 
house. You see, people get this con- 
fused. They think that the alienation 
is equal on both sides. It isn't. We have 
been washing everybody's underwear for 
300 years. We know when you're not 
cles 

Beyond this sense of having a superior 
knowledge of the battleground, there is 
the belated, overwhelming realization 
among Negroes that even though they 
have intimately known white weaknesses, 
they have nonetheless allowed their own 
se ge to be imposed on them by 
the majority culture. There is an awak- 
ening insight that they need no longer 
be perpetually and pervasively on the 
defensive. 


Joe Louis first came to New 
Detroit, he stubbornly refused 
photographers’ requests to pose eating 
watermelon. He was very fond of the 
fruit, but he told the photographers he 


66 hated watermelon rather than help rein- 


force a national caricature. Now Floyd 
Patterson can say to the press: “I used 
to think Jesus was a white man. All the 
pictures I've ever seen of Him showed 
Him as a white man, but I can no 
longer accept that. He either is a Jesus 
of no color, or a Jesus with a skin that 
is all colors.” 

On all fronts in the Negro revolution 
there is angry wonder at the extent to 
which Negroes have allowed themselves 
to be molded by whites. As a Nashville 
intellectual told Dr. C. Eric Lincoln 
while the latter was researching his book, 
The Black Muslims in America: “Negro 
children grow up, and they don't know 
who the hell they are. They aren't white, 
and white rejects them. But white is all 
they know about. And you talk about 
adjustment! Its a wonder any of us 
survive.” 

Many have survived by becoming hard- 
ened against the white world — and 
against themselves. Alison Burroughs- 
Cuney taught for a while in a Day 
Care Center in New York and a large 
majority of her pupils consisted of mem- 
bers of minority groups. In Freedom- 
ways: A Quarterly Review of the Negro 
Freedom Movement, she wrote: 

“Most of these children sooner or 
later grew tough, as a matter of self- 
preservation; you expected it. But I was 
especially dismayed to note that the 
Negro child often grew tougher. . . . The 
other children were in many cases, just 
as poor, and aggressive enough, but not 
with the bitterness of hopelessness and 
desperate impudence of the Negro chil- 
dren. . . . [The Negro child] may display 
a boldness that he does not feel. He is 
‘loud,’ he will be heard, he will exist. 
His sensibilities are blunted, he cares 
for no one — not even himself — but he 
will survive by amy means he can. He 
swallows the false values of this white 
society; he is brutalized, and he all too 
often becomes delinquent." 

On occasion, a teacher is able to break. 
through the fortifications, but a poi 
gnant index of the damage that has al- 
ready been done is this conversation 
reported in a Life story on a slum school 
in New York. A white teacher has 
reached a small Negro child. “‘I love 
Miss Lemon,’ the little boy said. Another 
child taunted him. ‘She white, man, she 
white.’ Weeping, kicking, the boy swung 
wildly at the other child and screamed, 
'She's no white lady . . . She's colored 

‚ just like те... colored 

At home, too, there has been the meas- 
ure of whiteness. James Baldwin re- 
members: “One's hair was always being 
attacked with hard brushes and combs 
it was shameful to have 
‘nappy’ hair. One's legs and arms and 
face were always being greased so that 
опе would not look ‘ashy’ in the winter- 
time. One was always being mercilessly 
scrubbed and polished, as in the hope 


that a stain could thus be washed away. 
I hazard that the Negro children, of 
my generation, anyway, had an earlier 
and more painful acquaintance with 
soap than any other children, anywhere.” 

Whites have largely been ignorant 
about how many Negroes felt about 
themselves, nor have they been aware of 
the color caste system that has existed 
so long within the American Negro com- 
munity. In Negro Digest, Dr. Lincoln 
has pointed out that “selfhatred and 
the rejection of the hated stereotype 
often exist side by side.” In Atlanta, 
for example, where the Negro commu- 
nity has а long history of f 
struggle against discrimination, 
prominent family of lightskinned Ne- 
groes the mother sought to discourage 
an unacceptably dark-skinned college 
student from calling on her near-blonde 
daughter by playing Deep Purple on the 
piano whenever he put in an appear- 
ance." Sarah Vaughan recalls of her 
childhood: “I often wished I was а 
medium-brown skin color. I imagined 
people of that color were regarded more 
highly than I. To most persons who 
knew me, I thought, I was just another 
little black girl for whom the future 
was just as dark as it was for thousands 
of others like me." 

The word of the new pride in being 
black has not yet reached most Negro 
children, but one illustration of the 
rapidly altering self-image among adults 
is the rebellion among Negro women 
against hair straighteners as more of 
them wear their hair in the close- 
cropped, "natural" African style. Writer 
Margaret Burroughs has complemented 
James Baldwin's description of Negro 
boyhood: “The girl-child's hair is washed, 
pressed, curled or waved. At an early 
age, one is made aware of the tempo- 
rary quality of this transformation. One 
learns to guard against moisture of any 
type, perspiration or rain, for fear that 
one's hair will go ‘back.’ One develops 
a mind-set against swimming, unless it 
is just before one is to go to the beauty 
parlor. 1 wonder how many Negro 
swimming champions have been lost to 
us because of this consideration . . . 
Perhaps now you understand thc rea- 
sons (ог my revolution and why I am 
wearing my hair the way God made it 

. We women who now wear our h: 
natural are being our own true selves. 
We have ceased to look for the key to 
unlock the spiral in our hai 

Singer Abbey Lincoln, another woman 
who has gone "natural" goes beyond 
Miss Burroughs and adds a different 
chauvinistic criterion for attractiveness: 
“I think that the black woman is thc 
most beautiful and perfectly wonderful 
woman in the world.” 

Similarly, there are Negro jazz musi- 
cians who are now stating publicly what 

(continued on page 70) 


"I must say, it’s the most private key club I've ever seen.” 


67 


iil 


"You're supposed to be in your own back 
yard digging a bomb shelter, Mr. Turp.” 


D PEAY. hum ROBERT С 
ore fun and games with t self- des 


- BRRROGUE LITHP 


K A N С Ж К О О 
mispalce Ca е| 
GAINWAAG LAME 

addi 


tion D VIDE VISIt 
cheapskate пае 


PLAYBOY 


70 


RACIAL LOOKING GLASS (continued from page 66) 


many not all Negro jazzmer — have 
ıg cach other for decades. The 


pi 


been telli 


blunt 


st Cecil Tay- 


а is compose 
lor: “The greatness in jazz occurs be 
cause it indudes all the mores and 
folkways of Negroes during the last 50 
rs. No, don't tell me that living in 
the same kind of environment is enough. 
You don't have the kind of cultural dif 
ficulties T do. Even the best white play- 
simulate the feeling of the 


ers. only 


is being sounded 


arlie Parker says sharply 
Williams’ novel, Night Song: 
about jazz and American art a 
ipgers did it. Sheececeecet! This is my 
business. This is all I know, тап... 
Ain't no spade critics. All the spade 
decjays, they pl rock 'n' roll. Ain't 
but a few spade joints can pay my way. 

You white. it's your world. You won't 
let me make it in it and you can't. Now 
ain't that a bitch 

One chronically enraged, nonfictional 
Negro jazz musician actually began to 
plan a public assault on Al Hirt to dram- 
atize what he termed white explo 
tion of "our" music. A friend reminded 
him that Miles Davis and Erroll Garner 
weren't exactly starving, and the kami- 
kaze project was dropped. The musician 
is now conducting a private census of 
the booking offices and jazz-record. cont- 
panies to determine how many Negro 
executives and secretaries they employ. 
"You can't call this crazy behavior," he 
told his friend defiantly, and his friend 
admitted that indeed he could not. 

Another musician has decided he will 
employ no more whites in his band and 
is totally resistant to the argument that 
he is thereby as bigoted as he accuses 
most whites of being. His fixed position 
is an cxample of the distortion of values 
that has occasionally accompanied this 
surge of defiant self-appreciation among 
some Negroes. Another illustration was 
an editorial by James Hicks, editor of 
the New York Amsterdam News, one of 
the country's leading Negro weeklies. 
When India invaded Goa and violated 
both the United Nations charter and 
Nehru's own frequently proclaimed prc- 
cepts of moral behavior among nations, 
Hicks could only see the event in terms 
of color: “For the first time in my more 
than 40 years of existence I have seen a 
black nation take something away from 
a white nation by force. And I'm glad!” 
The Amsterdam News, however, has 
been silent concerning a black leader, 
Nkrumah of Ghana, suppressing black 
opposition by force. 

А major impetus to the spiraling pride 
of race among American Negroes has, of 
е, been the swift emergence into 
power of the independent African na- 


сощ 


tions, and Hicks is far from alone in 


being uncritical of their admittedly com- 
plex transitional periods as they try to 
establish internal order. The fact, how- 
ever, that these states do exist has had a 
profound effect on nearly all Negroes 
who recall their shame in childhood at 
seeing American movies about Alrica. 
They cringed at the natives, since they 
were convinced those primitives rein- 
forced the barbarous cartoons which rep- 
resented the way most whites looked at 
all blacks. 

Today the African political leader is 
a source of satisfaction as well as of irony. 
A few months ago, Dizzy Gillespie went 
to a Northern airport to meet a Nigerian 
diplomat. “You should see,” he told a 
friend, "the dignity and respect these 
Africans get —and they're the same as 
me. In the crowd with them 1 was in the 
clique, and for the first time in my life 
I felt free! A lot of the white people 
thought I was African, and man, they 
were ‘tomming’ me!" 

Among a small but vociferous minority 
of American Negro militants, Africa has 
become their primary allegiance. Insist- 
ing that Negroes will never be accorded 
full equality here, they have established 
such Africa-oriented political organiza- 
tions as the New Alajo Party in New 
York's Harlem. Its leader, Ofuntola Oser- 
jeman, proclaims: “Our liberation must 
be complete. Every technique of slavery 
must be wiped out. We must begin with 
our so-called leaders. Support Africaniza- 
tion! Note to men: adopt the African 
look; cut the brims off your hats, you will 
look like you should, and less like an 
imitation . . . Our names, our clothes, 
our clubs, our churches, our ге! n, our 
schools, businesses, holidays, games, arts, 
manners and customs — all must change!” 

‘These Negro Zionists, however, are 
fragmentized into splinter groups. Much 
nificant are the equally separa- 
tist but much larger and tightly organ- 
ized Black Muslims who have grown 
from less than 30,000 in 1959 to over 
100,000 with at least 70 temples and mis- 
sions in some 27 states. Their numbers 
are drawn mostly from the Negro poor 
and their credo has distilled the long- 
dormant pain and hatred of these under- 
ground men. The Muslims advocate 
strict social separation of the races; eco- 
nomic autonomy for the American 
Negro through his own businesses and 
banks; a separate educational system con- 
centrating on Negro history 
superiority; and eventually, 
enclave of their own that will consist of 
several states to be paid to American 
Negroes аз indemnity for slavery. lu 
t white stercotypes of the 
Negro, the Black Muslims create and 
savor their own caricatures of white men 
who, according to Elijah Muhammad 


("rhe Messenger of Allah to the Lost- 
Found Nation of Islam in North Amer- 
ica"), arc "by nature . . 
liars.’ 

Although the Muslims have made prog- 
ress in setting up their own businesses 
and schools, the wild unreality of their 
al solution is bound to 
r membership unless the whole 

racial situation becomes so 
irrational that the hundreds of thou- 
sands of American Negroes who now 
sympathize with but do not join the 
Muslims finally feel there is no longer 
any realistic hope for their ascent within 
the larger society and choose Muham- 
mad's demonology in desperation 

“The Muslim movement,” James Bald- 
win has warned, “has all the evidence on 
its side. Unless one supposes that the 
ideal of black supremacy has virtues de- 
nied to the idea of white supremacy, onc 
cannot possibly accept the deadly conclu- 
sions a Muslim draws from this evidence. 
On the other hand, it is quite impossible 
to argue with а Muslim concerning the 
actual state o£ Negroes in this country; 
the truth, after all, is the truth." Bald- 
win wrote this in The New York Times 
Magazine, which is an indication that 
this raw truth, as he secs it, is at least 
being disseminated among those who can 
add new evidence before the Muslims 
grow appreciably stronger. 

One of the newer manifestations of 
Negro militancy is а string of commit- 
tees, generally led by young Negro intel- 
lectuals, and called by such urgent names 
as “Freedom Now" or “On Сиа: for 
Freedom.” One in Adanta is simply 
titled "The Now-Nows." They are based 
in most of the larger cities and while 
they have not yet fused into а nationally 
coordinated movement, they keep in con- 

‘These actionists work as pressure 
groups to spur established Negro leaders 
into stronger positions and. occasionally 
they organize their own demonstrations 
against discrimination. "They admit no 
whites because their goal is direction of 
the Negro masses and they contend they 
could not gain trust among the most 
frustrated Negroes if they themselves 
were integrated. A few have white wives 
and are finding this a problem. At one 
New York meeting of various nationalist 
groups a few months ago, Malcolm X., 
the shrewd chief strategist for Elijah 
Muhammad, pointed at two leaders of 
the “On Guard for Freedom Committee’ 
who are wedded to white girls and thun- 
dered, "No one involved in mixed 
marriage can speak for Afro-Americans.” 

These committees consider the Mus: 
lims politically ingenuous and regard the 
N.A.A.C.P. and the Urban League as too 
"assimilauionist" and too slow. They dis- 
dain the philosophy of nonviolence that 
activates C.O.R.E. and Martin Luther 
King's legions. Their hero is Robert 

(continued on page 86) 


. murderers and 


A SENSE OF 
VALUES 


article By J.PAULGETTY 


the treadmill scramble for money and status is not the route to real wealih 


ABOUT A YEAR AGO, my youngest son, Gordon — then 27 — informed me that he 
wanted to leave the family business and embark on a career as a composer 
of serious music, something for which he has always shown considerable talent. 
As much as I would have liked for Gordon to remain in business with me, I 
raised no objections. On the contrary, 1 approved his decision wholeheartedly. 
1 could readily appreciate why he was willing to abandon a highly promising 
business career to become a composer. And, to tell the truth, I was — and am — 
very proud of him. 

Gordon wants to express himself in his own way, by doing what interests 
him most, by doing what he believes to be of the most lasting value. While the 
career he has chosen is not one in which he is likely to find great financial 
rewards, І believe that he has already found something far more important. He 
has found himself. He has discovered and defined his own standards of values; 
he has asserted his individuality and independence. To these extents, Gordon 
has already achieved a rare degree of success in li 

I have known entirely too many people who spend their lives trying to be 
what others want them to be and doing what others expect them to do. They 
force themselves into patterns of behavior which have been established for — 
and by — people with personalities entirely different from their own. Secking to 
conform to those patterns, they dissolve into grotesque, blurred mirror images as 
they obliterate their individuality to imitate others. Rootless, dissatisfied, they strive 
frantically — and most often vainly — to find their own identities within the con- 
stricting limits of an existence alien to their natures, in: id innate desires. 

“I wanted to be a writer. My father refused to hear of it and insisted I go 
to law school and become an attorney. 1 make a good living now, but I'm bored 
and restless 

Td like to sell my business and buy a ranch somewhere, but my wife won't 
let me because she's afraid it would mean a loss of income and prestige . . .” 

“There's nothing 1 hate more than suburban living. Га much rather have 
an apartment in the city, but all the other executives in my firm have homes 
in the suburbs — so 1 have to have mine there, too . . .” 

“I feel trapped, as though I'm caught up in a pointless rat race. I really 
don't like o joy my work, but 1 don't know what else I could do and still 
make as much money as I'm making now . . .” 

I've heard such statements as these made with ever-increasing frequency 
in recent years. Essentially, they are expressions of personal discontent — and 


71 


PLAYBOY 


72 


сусп defeat — but they also reflect a con- 
stantly growing social illness of our time 

The post-World War I period was 
said to have produced a confused, inse- 
cure and disillusioned Lost Generation. 
There is, tragically enough, ample evi- 
dence to indicate that the post-World 
War Ш era produced a generation which 
has, in large part, lost its sense of per- 
spective and purpose. It is а gener: 
whose members are prone to substitue 
flimsy dollarsand-cents price tags for 
scales of lasting values and who meekly 
surrender their individuality and even 
their integrity as human beings. A glar- 
ingly obvious manifestation ol this can 
be found in the social phenomenon of 
status seeking, which has become so 
widespread and prevalent that it looms 
as onc of the principal motivating forces 
behind our contemporary social be- 
havior patterns. 

Now, I agree that the desire of human 
beings to rise above the mass and to 
gain the respect of their fellow men is 
a basic one. Within certain broad limits 
and subject to certain self-evident reser- 
vations it is a constructive and salutary 
motivation. The desire to excel has im- 
pelled countless individuals to make 
important contributions to the progress 
of ci ion. But, as more than one 
observer has noted, the rationale of 
today's status seeking and the directions 
it takes are neither constructive nor 
healthy. 

To my way of thinking, status may be 
defined as a form of recognition an indi- 
vidual's peers award him for above- 
average contributions to society. lt is 
something that must be earned, a re- 
ward for accomplishment that is awarded 
ata degree proportionate to the value 
or importance of what the individual 
contributes toward the common good. 

Nowadays, however, the tendency is 
to equate status almost automatically — 
and all but exclusively — with financial 
success. And, it seems that the achieve- 
ment of status not only is, per se, con- 
sidered an end unto itself, but that for 
many it has become the sole motivation 
and the only worthwhile goal. 

Vast numbers of people have appar- 
ently convinced themselves that the 
amassing of money and the material 
things it can buy alone signifies achieve- 
ment, connotes success and confers 
status They pile up money and the 
material possessions which they believe 
arc solid proofs rather than frail symbols 
of ability, achievement and success. 
They accept as manifest truth the 
shoddy theory that they can gain social 
position and the respect of others only 
by outearning and outbuying those 
around them. They have no interest in 
building anything but their own bank 
balances; they are not concerned with 
values, but only with the dollars-and- 


cents prices they pay for their posses- 
sions. 

I've encountered more concrete exam- 
ples of this distorted viewpoint than I'd 
care to count. Quite typical of them was 
my recent experience with a business- 
man who paid me a visit їп London, 
arriving with a letter of introduction 
from a mutual acquaintance in New 
York. Alter spending more than two 
hours boasting about how much moncy 
he'd made in the last few years, my 
visitor informed me that he was on his 
way to France, where he intended to 
buy some paintings. 

"I've heard that уоште quite an art 
collector," he said. "I thought you 
could help me out by giving me the 
names and addresses of some reliable 
art galleries or dealers from whom I 
could do my buying." 

“Are you interested in paintings from 
period or of any particular 
school?” I inquired. “Or are you look- 
ing for works by some particular artist?” 

"It doesn't make any difference to 
me,” the man shrugged impatiently. “I 
wouldn't know one from another in any 
сазе. I just have to buy some paintings — 
and I have to spend at least $100,000 
for them." 

“Why can't you spend less than that?” 
I asked, puzzled that anyone would 
set an arbitrary minimum rather than 
a maximum on what he wanted to spend. 

"Oh, it's one of those things" came 
the straightfaced explanation. “Му 
partner was over here a couple of 
months ago, and he paid $75,000 for 
some pictures. [ figure that to make any 
kind of an impression back home, I'v 
got to top him by at least $25,000 . . .” 

It is easy to sec how this man judges 
values. I strongly suspect that it is also 
a sale bet that whatever he has done in 
life, his motives were always just as 
shallow and trivial as his purely status- 
seeking reasons for wanting to buy 
paintings. Unfortunately, there are 
many people like him. In my opinion, 
it would be difficult to find justification 
for their wealth; I do not believe they 
really earn —or, for that matter, de- 
serve — their money. 

Iam a stubborn advocate of cnlight- 
ened free-enterprise Capitalism and the 
last person in the world to question 
anyone’s fundamental right to achieve 
financial success. I contend that a per- 
son who possesses the imagination and 
ability to "get rich" and goes about his 
money-making activities legitimately 
should be allowed every opportunity to 
do so. On the other hand, I firmly be- 
lieve that an individual who seeks 
financial success should be motivated by 
much more than merely a desire to 
amass a personal fortune. 

My own father was poor — very poor 
— in his youth, but he went on to build 
а business and become a millionaire. He 


made a great deal of money during his 
lifetime, but he did not makc it with 
any intention of caching it away for 
his own exclusive benefit. He knew the 
value of money and had very definite 
ideas about its uses. My father consid- 
ered his wealth primarily as capital, to 
be invested for the direct benefit of his 
employees, associates, stockholders, cus- 
tomers and their families — and for the 
indirect benefit of the entire public and 
the nation's economy. His attitude to- 
ward his wealth was governed by a 
maxim he took from Sir Francis Bacon: 
"No man's fortune can be an end 
worthy of his being" He loved the 
challenge of business, but the incentive 
was not to pile up money, rather to ac- 
complish something lasting. 1 doubt sei 

his total personal and family 
expenditures сусг exceeded $30,000 a 
year — yet, he was probably one of the 
first businessmen to build swimming 
pools and provide recreational facilities 
for his employees. 

I leamed much from my father and 
from my experiences in the bare-knuckle 
school of the oil fields, where a man was 
judged by his actions, not by the size of 
his bank balance or the size of his auto- 
mobile. The lessons taught in thc oil 
fields were blunt and trenchant. 

I remember one instance when I hired 
a new crew to drill а well for me. I'd 
never worked with any of the men on 
the crew before. At that time, І was 
already worth several millions; the inen 
knew this, but they knew very little 
else about me. 

To my annoyance, the crew loafed 
on the job for several days. I finally 
realized its members were sizing me up. 
Once I understood what was wrong, the 
rest was easy. I took the first chance that 
presented itself to prove that I could 
scramble up the rig from floor to crown 
block as fast as any of the derrick men 
and that I was able to run a string of 
rotary tools as well as the drilling super 
intendent. 

“All right, boss— you'll do," one of 
the drillers grinned after I'd passed my 
unofficial field trials. "Now it doesn't 
make any difference how much money 
you've got. We can get to work.” And 
they did. 

The astute, progressive and truly suc 
cessful businessman does not think of 
his work primarily in terms of profits. 
He works to create businesses which not 
only produce materials, goods or serv- 
ices, but which also, to the greatest ex- 
tent. possible, contribute to the welfare 
of all. He knows that his bi less is first 
of all a working partnership among his 
employees, stockholders, associates and 
himself — а partnership in which he 
supplies а certain share of the capital 
and provides the direction and inspira 
tion. He thus has a sense of responsi 

(continued on page 99) 


"Eder А 


“If she has a friend, maybe we could work out a little reciprocal 
trade agreement!” 


74 


JANET PILGRIM IN 
PALM SPRINGS 


playboy own office playmate spends 
her vacation in the california sun 


L  YOHYAId 


waa“. JANET PILGRIM, our illustrious chief of 
Playboy Reader Service, told us that she planned 
to spend her vacation in California's fabled Palm Springs, 
we were about to ask her to send us back a spring or 
two. But we bit our tongue and hit upon a better idea— 
a pictorial record of J.P.'s pilgrimage to P.S. We told 
her that if she wouldn't mind having a PLavuoy photog- 
rapher tagging along (lucky fellow) we'd be happy to 
pick up the tab for her trip. Janet, one of our earliest 
and most popular Playmates and the only girl ever to 
become Playmate of the Month on three occasions (July 
1955, December 1955 and October 195 happily 
accepted the offer. Thus, she had herself a nifty vacation 
on Рілувоу, and we—and you—got some fine photos of 
Pilgrim's progress on an oasis odyssey, as you'll see on 
these six pages. As in any good tale of the Wild West, 
Janet's journey was marked by a harrowing moment: оп 
the third evening of her stay, the convertible in 
which she was riding ran off the Palm Canyon High 
way. Wall away from the accident with a broken arm 
and a few beautiful bruises, Janct said, "I suppose this 
is the modern equivalem of getting tossed by a buck 
ing bronco!” Roughriding notwithstanding, the Palm 
Springs Saga ended happily with a welltanned Janet 
safely back in the Playboy Building in Chicago, supervis- 
ing thousands of monthly reader queries on every subject 
from FLAYBOY fiction to fashion to Playmate of the Month. 


~ 
ть. eee 


After a hop from PLAYBOY to Palm Springs, Janet swings into 
action on the mountain-rimmed courts of the famed Tennis 
Club. International champs Lew Носа (below, left) and Jack 
Kramer (below, right) were fascinated by her flawless form. 


Net results of the first afternoon's 
activity: the stort of a well-displayed 
Palm Springs suntan ond c date for 
the evening. Here, Janet lays out a few 
mentionables before plunging into an 
eye-soothing bubble bath. (Although 
rain is scarce in Palm Springs, cool 
crystal springs from neighboring moun- 
toins furnish enough water to validate the 
chamber-of-commerce's boast of one 
swimming pool for every 2% local 
citizens) While the resort is noted for 
its Great Outdoors, its indoors looked 
great, too, with Janet on the scene. 


75 


76 


Up early the next morning to shop for а native costume, Jonet discovers she has a choice, opporelly, between Western and 
Martian styles. Although she was amused by the far-out golfing hats, she rejected them in favor of a pint-sized 10-gallon getup. 


Janet's next stop is the wide open spaces af 
nearby Chino Canyon for some handsome 
horsing oround with Ray Ryan, her host ond 
owner of the Springs’ El Mirador Hotel. (Palm 
Springs comes by its rustic ways naturally; half 
of it belongs to the prosperaus Agua Caliente 
Indians who got it back from the U.S. Govern- 
ment in 1891.) Above, in full regalia, Janet, 
no expert equestrienne, comes out a photo-finish 
second in а hell-for-leother race against Ryan. 
But, despite the sweeping desert that surrounded 
them, Ryan readily admitted that when it came 
to scenic beauty, our gal Pilgrim won in a walk. 


Although some wag once labeled Palm Springs “the town where celebrities go to get away from one another,” Janet, a 
celebrity in her own right, had no trouble attracting a galaxy of notables wherever she went. At a roundup party in 
columnist Bob Considine's rambling ranch house, she chats with movieman Gene Raymond labove, left) and outdrows 
industrial designer Raymond Loewy fright) by distracting him with her own design. After a sunrise chuck-wagon breakfast 
with hotelman Ryan (center), Janet returns to El Mirador to find that a good book is no match for a needed nap. 


Refreshed опа ready for another big doy —whot's left cf it —Jonet pops 
appeolingly out of a quick shower before taking o leisurely shopping tour 
for greeting cards to send to the gang back ot PLAYBOY. Ironically, one of 
the cards she chose pictured o girl with her огт in o sling. (ls message 
read: "| wasn't going to stay so long—but they twisted my orm") 


Back at the hotel, Janet demonstrates thot 
there's many a slip between a dress rehearsal 
and curtain time at Palm Springs’ posh Stor- 
lite Room labovel. There, her date for the 
evening wos champion track-and-field man 
Porry O'Brien. It was later that same night that 
Jonet and Porry found themselves staring ot 
the stars through the cracked window of an 
overturned convertible. He wos uninjured, 
but the accident broke the evening's spell, 
and Janet's arm. Janet spent much of the rest 
of her vacation mending in the sun, bur her 
Springs friends surprised her with a big “cast 
party” before sending her home to PLAYBOY. 


PLAYBOY 


RIGHT MAN 


„ Yes. | have been working hard, 


“Good. That was our impression.” 

Millikin was silent for perhaps five 
seconds. He regarded Guy intently. 
Then he flipped the file shut, leaned 
back in his chair, and smiled warmly. 

“Lucey. I think you have a good fu- 
ture here, too. I've been going over 
your aptitude tests — the ones you took 
when you joined the company. and be- 
fore you went up to Scale 8. They indi- 
cate а good, healthy amount of company 
n and other-directedness."" 
looked puzzled. 

Il put that in plainer language, 
y. You're a good company man. 
Now, about these tests that you'll be 
taking. We have about 30,000 employ- 
сез, including plant personnel all over 
the country. Here in the General Office 
there are over 2000 men, ranging from 
the Chairman of the Board down to the 
newest trainee. My job is to try to bal- 
lance these 2000 men other words, 
to find the right men for the right jobs.” 

Millikin paused to light a cigarette, 
and Guy hastened to light one for him- 
self. 

Millikin continued. “And that’s where 
these psychological tests come in, Lucey. 
They take out the guesswork. My judg- 
ment, just from talking with a man, 
certainly can't be 100 percent accurate. 
After all" and Millikin smiled warmly 
again, ". . . you can't tell a book from 
its cover, сап you?" 

"No sir, I guess not.” 

“What's your personal opinion about 
these tests, Lucey? Got any resistance to 
them?” 

“Well, frankly sir, I wonder just . 
what I mean is, Tread The Organization 
Man, and 1. 

“Fine, fine, most interesting book. I 
say it might be a bit radical, personnel- 
wise, but interesting.” 

“Yes sir. I mean, I really chink if the 
tests are valid, why I'm all for them. I 
don't mind them at all.” 

“Good. Because you have three days 
ahead that'll be [ull of tests." 

Mr. Millikin got up, strolled to his 
ndow and gazed out. 
low then, you're probably wonder- 
ing why, so close on the heels of your 
last advancement in duties and pay, we 
are considering you for something else. 
As I said, 1 can't be completely explicit 
at this point, but I can tell you that this 
will be a special assignment. We need 
one man — just one, for the job." 

He turned, looked at Guy. 

“TIl be administering the tests per 
sonally” — Guy's eyebrows went up; 
usually Mr. Millikin assigned this work 
10 one of his many assistants — "due to 
the extreme importance of this particu- 
lar project. Do you have any questions?” 


(continued from page 63) 


“Sir, I do, but I guess they'll wait. 
Until you can give me some more de- 
tails, that is.” 

"Right. Well, then, Lucey, that’s all 
for today. You've passed your first hur- 


dle without even knowing it. This inter- 
view. I have my own personal criteria, 
and your answers, your attitude, your 


bearing — all these tell me, "This might 
be the man. Good day, Lucey. Please 
be in my conference room tomorrow 
ng at 10. Well start the tests 


On the commuting train that night, 
Guy sat at his regular table in the club 
car with three fellow Greater United 
men, Reg Paige, Steve Herman and Joe 
Collyer. They worked in the same build- 
ing, although in different departments, 
they rode the train together, and they 
lived in the same suburban development 
New Jersey. 

Guy related what had happened dur- 
ing the day. 

"And you have no idea what kind of 
job Millikin has in mind?” 

“Nop 

“But those goddamn tests, Guy,” Steve 
Herman said. “In Public Relations we 
ave to take them, and if we did 
k I'd quit. I think they stink.” 

Guy looked at Steve, who was a New 
Frontier Democrat and was considered. 
the radical of their little group- 

"Steve, 1 don't like ‘em either. But 
like old Millikin says, he has to find the 
right man for the right job. And the 
tests аге guideposts, so to spea 

“Guideposts, schmideposts." 
“Guy's right, Steve,” said Reg Paige. 
Phey're scientifically v 
And what the hell,” 
You can’t fight city hall.” 
That night, it wok Guy a long time 
to get to sleep. There was something 
very strange about this, he thought. He 
new that he worked hard and well; he 
0 knew that he was not onc of those 
industrial boy wonders. Finally, he slept, 
to dream from time to time of blank 
test forms floating beyond his reach— 
just far enough so that he could not 
read the questions. And then they were 
gone. 


The next day the tests began. They 
were much like the many others he had 
taken from the time he began working 
for Greater United Foods. Multiple- 
choice questions, running mostly to 
things such as: 

“I you could be successful in one 

of the following vocations, which 

would you choose? (а) museum 
curator, (b) farmer, (c) salesman, 

(d) dancing teacher." 

Or, "Which of the following do you 

prefer? (а) symphony music, (b) 


jazz music, (c) news bro: 
The tests filled the first and second 
ig Guy of energy 
in was secretive, but 
pleasant, like a dentist in the reception 
room. And the tests went on. 

When Guy got up the third, last day, 
he very tired. 

At the breakfast table, his wife said, 
“Honey, can you take a day off after 
this is over? Relax a little bit?” 

“Don't know.” Guy sipped his coffee, 
bit at a loose fragment of fingern: 
rankly, this is driving me nuts. Not 
knowing, I mean. Maybe today . . .” 

"Daddy," the six-year-old id, and 
Сау smiled at her. "I like kindergarten. 
Can I have one of my new friends over 
Tor dinner?" 

"Sure, honey." 

"Can I have two over?" 

‘You talk to your mommy about 


that.’ 
“I want to go to kindergarten, too,” 
the four-year-old said. 

“Guy, I do hope you can take some 
time and rest. You haven’t been playing 
with the girls, reading to them. And 
they miss it.” 

150 closed his eyes and tightened his 
“Gwen, I said that I'd try. And I 


As Guy left the house, he hugged each 
of his pretty daughters and kissed his 
wife. Then he kissed her again, hard. "I 
love you, Gwen. The strain'll be over 
soon. Wish me luck." 

Luck, Guy." 

And he went out to the car, and on 
to the station, and in to New York. 

Guy finished the last test shortly be- 
fore lunch. 

"Get a [аз sandwich and be back 
here in the conference room by one,” 
Mr. Millikin said, as he took the test 
papers. “Then we'll have a final per- 
sonal interview." 

When Guy returned, there were three 
other men waiting with Mr. Millikin. 

“Mr. Luccy, this is Mr. Simpson, our 
Marketing V.P., and Mr. McQuii 
ecutive Vice-President. And thi 
Burgundy, an industrial psychologist 
and consultant to Greater Unite: 

Guy shook hands all around. He had 
never met any of the men before, al- 
though he had seen Mr. McQuinn and 
Mr. Simpson from time to time around 
the building. The other man, Dr. Bur- 
gundy, was a complete stranger. He was 
a large man, Guy noticed, with a curi- 
ously melancholy face. 

Now then, Lucey, we have a few 
questions to ask you" Mr. Mi 
said. “Please relax, talk freely, we're all 
on the same payroll here Everyone 
chuckled, except Dr. Burgundy. 

"First," said Mr. McQui 
sider yourself a pretty hard worker, 

(continued on page 9%) 


fiction By H.c. N&&. WHO SHALL DWELL ... 
the choice of redemption was his as armageddon screamed upon them 


IT CAME ON A SUNDAY AFTERNOON and that was good, because if it had happened on a weekday the father would 
have been at work and the children at school, leaving the mother at home alone and the whole family disorgan- 
ized with hardly any hope at all. They had prayed that it would never come, ever, but suddenly here it was. 

The father, a slender, young-old man, slightly stooped from years of labor, was resting on the divan and 
half-listening to a program of waltz music on the radio. Mother was in the kitchen preparing a chicken for dinner 
and the younger boy and girl were in the bedroom drawing crude pictures of familiar (continued on page 110) 


BURNETT 


NO, TM NOT. 
WHY DO чоо 
THINK TH 
Ss KIDDING? 
Eg 


PLAYBOY 
= 
[:] 
©, 
a 
bi 


NOTHING! DID HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD 
I SAU ANYTHING ОЕ GOOD FAMILY RELATIONS? 
WAS WRONG? IM NOT SUCH A FREAK 


CMON ЧОО HAVE 
10 bE | 
KIDDING, 


you KNOW! WHU 005 
AN EVERYONE TRU 


| TO MAKE ME 


№ FEEL WRONG 2 
ب‎ 


YOU'RE PUTTING Т THINK THAT RUNNING 
ME ONT АМАИ DOESNT SOLVE 
юм т! ANYTHING. J GIVE A 


LITTLE AND THEY GIVE 
\ A LITTLE. SOMEBODY 
HAS TO MAKE UP FOR 
THE HEARTBREAK, 
/ JANETS 
CAUSED 
ТЕМ. 


Tac теба 


you STILL 


МЧ PARENTS AND 


40) REALLY WE DO HAVE 
STILL LVE AT DIFFERENCES. 
HOME? UOURE WHAT FAMILY 
BEING SERIOUS DOESN'T? BUT 
NOU. | IM NOT LIKE 


„—х MU SISTER. 

2) [ CHOOSE 
NOT TO 

RUN AWAY. 


же (a 


You KNOW, WHY SHOULD TWENTY-NINE 
YOUVE ALMOST BE AN ARBITRARU AGE ТО 
GOT ME Move OUT ? WITHOUT ME 
BELIEVING WHO WOULO THEU HAVE 
you. AOU LEFT? | 

Do Live ° 

AT HOME! 


LooK- ҮМ NOT 
SAUING A WORD! 
50 1175 THAT 
WAY ABOUT | 
you AND 
LIVING AT 
HOME, HUH? 


400 MUST 
BE KIDDING! 


40V VO, HUH? 

YOU REALLY 

LIVE AT HOME. 
l 


LET JANET RUN AROUND 
HAVING ALL THE FUN. 
SOMEBODY Has O BE 
RESPONSIBLE. ZO YOU KNOW 
WHAT IT WOULD 00 TO M4 
/ PARENTS 
FI 
MOVED 
IN WITH 
HER 2 


WILD PARTIES - OUT TILL ALL 
HOURS OF THE NIGHT. Boy- 
FRIENDS ALL OVER THE 

PLACE. IM THE RESPONSIBLE 


IF I DID MOVE IN WITH 
JANET 1 BET I COULD MAKE 
HER ЕТТЕ COWN! THAT 
CERTAINLU OUGHT ТО PLEASE 
MU PARENTS! 


HEU, You YOU DONT KNOW WHAT REAL 


CAN TELL HEARTBREAK 15- THEY KNOW 
ME. UOURE THE KIND OF LIFE JANET 
KIDDING- LEADS. IF T MOVED IN) WITH 
HUH? YOURE HER meyo- THEUD— 
KIDDING - ui 


SHE USED 10 
NOBODY t 
STILL LIVES ele V т 


АТ HOME, HAVE INFLUENCE 


T KNEW IT! ти TELL HEM 

You чт TONIGHT! THEULL 

Шү Т a BE DELIGHTED! 
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єм0-әшоз рит ио]лдо “моләрр “моби fo 
24njxuu v st 211491 зи; әш [122 Kay, 


HE CRAFTY 


Ribald Classic a new translation from La Fontaine's Contes et Nouvelles 


A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN once took into his household a lovely serving maid to 
whom he quickly taught the game of love. Well equipped for the sport she 
was, young. lithe and full of joie de vivre. 

One morning early, the man stole out of bed while his wife still slept and 
went down to the garden where the maid was cutting a bouquet for madam, 
it being her birthday. Seeing the flowers, the master of the house began to 
praise their beauty and fragrance. all the while comparing them unfavorably 
to the exquisite charms of the maid herselt. As his hands caressed the maid, 
she began to struggle, as all women do (being ever so careful not to interfere 
ater the two were taking their pleasure 


with the man’s progress). Some kisses 
on the warm garden earth. 


‘The trouble was that their performance had been witnessed by a gossipy 
neighbor woman peering from her window. The husband, seeing the curtains 
moving, said to the maid, “We have been discovered. my dear, but fear not.” 

So saying, he hastened up to his bedchamber where his wile still lay in sleep. 
Awakening her, he led her down to the garden on the pretense of cutting her a 
bouquet for her birthday. Once there. the game he had played 
earlier with the maid. The same fumbling, the same ineffectual defense on 
the part of his wife led to the same earthy result. 

That evening when the neighbor dropped in, ostensibly to extend her birth- 
day wishes to madam, she quickly drew the good wife aside and started whis- 
pering rapidly and earnestly ro her. The husband. who could well surm 
what the woman was saying, was delighted to hear his wife repeat several times, 
choking with laughter, "But, my dear friend, it was I!" 


—Translaicd by D. Taylor Brook Vll 


PLAYBOY 


86 


RACIAL LOOKING GLASS 


Williams, a former N.A.A.C.P. chapter 
head in Monroe, North. Carolina. who 
was removed from his position by that 


organization for arming Negroes in his 
city against white marauders. After a 
ted situation involving Wil- 


idni white 


liams? 
couple in Monroe during a day of racial 
skirmishes, Williams fled to Cuba. He 


alleged 


pping of a 


remains, however, a bristling symbol to 
those young Negroes who feel, аз one 
has said, “We have no other cheeks to 
turn. We Afro-Americans will be heard 
by amy means you make it necessary for 
US Lo use. 

Calvin Hicks, chairman of the board 
of the On Guard for Freedom Commit- 
tcc in New York, | it on the line be- 
fore a mixed meeting n New 
ast fall. "We а Я 
gaged in а cleansing process, an internal 
rebellioi st the black Uncle Toms 
wl also against the white liberals and 
adicals for whom the Negro has existed 
as а social illustration rather than a per- 
son. And vou," he looked at the carnest 
young white members of the Young 
People Soc alist League in the front 
rows, " have to sufler because we can- 
not trust any of. you any longer. Sure, 
well make mistakes and there may һе 
ugliness in our militance, but you cannot 
expect а man to wallow around in the 
mud for 300 years and come up saintly.” 

In this last respect, Hicks was empha 
sizing an unpalatable but inevitable f. 
It is unrealistic to expect all America 


Iberals 


Negroes to forgive and. forget their his- 
tory in this country without at least a 
decade and probably more of emotional 
tharsis. Kenneth Ci psychology 
professor at C.C.N.Y. — on whose studies 
concerning the effects of discrimination 
the Supreme Court partially based its 
1954 school desegregation decision — c 
presses the hope of Negro and white 
integrationists that the storm must 
eventually subside because "Hate is 
extremely dificult emotion to sust 
over a prolonged period of time.” 
Yet there are other close observers of 
American race relations who share Clark's 
opinion but who also agree with Morroe 
Berger, Associate Professor of Sociology 
at Princeton, that up to a point, "Hate 
is very often useful. What has happened 
on this question of hate is that we have 
gotten a glimpse into the Negro com- 
munity . . . The whites have not known 
what the Negroes were thinking and now 
. . White people are beginning to find 
that Negroes are very critical, very bitter, 
and many of them hate whites. 
It would have been edu for 
example, for whites to observe the dilfer- 
ences in reactions to the 1958 movie The 
Defiant Ones in Negro neighborhoods 
from their own. At the movie's end, 
Sidney Poitier, a convict on the edge of 
freedom, chooses to reject his escape 


ational, 


(continued from page 70) 


route and instead rescue his white com- 
panion. Liberal whites were moved att so 
noble a gesture of reconciliation. Some 
Negro audiences, outraged. yelled at the 
screen, “Get back on the train, you fool!” 

In sum, there can be no organic resolu- 
tion of ial divisions until this reser- 
voir of fury is recognized by responsible 
white and Negro leaders, A British pro- 
fessor of psychology, John Cohen, has 
suggested that one way of reli nter- 
national tensions is me he 
calls “role reversal.” s, for ex- 
ample, should uy to пе themselves 
Russians, and the reverse should take 
place. The aim of role reversal, says 
Cohen, "is not necessarily to convince, 
but to communicate." 

For those Amcrican whites who would 
like to try to imagine being Negro, col- 
umnist P. L. Prattis of the Negro Pitts 
burgh Courier has started the game for 
his side in a blunt message to Negroes: 
Just suppose we took our freedom as 
seriously as our white fellow Americans 
take theirs, or the freedom of West Ber- 
liners.” If Negroes did, Prattis continues, 
would not “all of us small-fry Negroes 
tell all the big Negroes like Roy Wilkins, 
Martin Luther King . . . and others who 
lead the pack: "We're tired of j 
ing around trying to get along with those 
white people . . . We want our freedom 
NOW, or we're going to make it mighty 
rough for somebody with those home- 
made, shortrange bombs we have stashed 
in our cellars’ 

Pratis docs not mean there actually 
is a large, secret arsenal ready for a 
1 Armageddon. He is, however, ver- 
balizing a fantasy that has occurred to 
many Negroes and that might well occur 
to whites in a game of role rev 

A major concern, therefore, of Negro 
leaders who want these wounds to heal 
and not to fester is that this bitterness, 
however therapeutic, may roar out of 
control and cause new and deeper 
chasms. For this reason as well as for the 
sake of simple justice, even previously 

"moderate" Negroes are agreed that un- 

less progress toward [ull equality is 
markedly accelerated, the Black Mus 
nd similar products of despair will 
ue to grow in strength. 

Also potentially dangerous are those 
still unaffiliated, unskilled and chron 
cally underemployed Negroes who have 
become distrustful of all organized power 
groups, racist or integrationist. These 
pockets of hopeless rage are not un- 
affected by the winds of change, and 
individuals among them can finally ex 


a- 


plode in violence. A few months ago, a 
white man was stabbed to death on the 
steps of a Brooklyn church. The mu 


derer, a 99-year-old, unemployed. Negro 
laborer, told police, “I killed him be- 
cause I felt like it. I killed him because 
white. I don't know why I did it. 


I want to save my race.’ 
The immediate cause of this n 


frustration — and that of millions of 
Negroes — is economic discrimination. 
Most whites do not fully realize the 


height of economic barriers. As of the 
1960 census. the Negro population has 
grown to 18,871,831. In the past 20 y 
it has increased 46.7 percent. while 
overall population gain was 35.7 рег 
ow 10.5 percent of the population, 
Negroes earn less than five percent of the 
nation’s income. Furthermore, in the 
last decade, unemployment among Ne- 
groes has never dropped below 10 per- 
cent as contrasted with an average of 
five percent for the total population. 

The majority of Negro workers, pre- 
vented by local employer prejudice and 
by discriminatory union rules from en 
tering skilled vocations, perform not 
only the most menial, lowestpaying 
work with the least seniority; but they 
are involved in preciscly the kind of job 
apidly disappearir automa 
tion and other technological improve- 
ments increase (some 2,000,000 of these 
jobs now vanish annually). The result, as 
labor writer Michael Harrington has ob- 
served in Commonweal, is that moi 
more Negroes over 40 "will certainly 
never find another job as good and may 
well be condemned to job insi y for 
the rest of their lives. 

The young Negro entering the labor 
market finds the same obstaci 
often union-made — toward. learning а 
t. Throughout the country, Negroes 
make up les than two percent of the 
apprentices in the various trades 
training programs for skilled jobs. "Its 
almost. easier," says C ds of the 
Urban League. "for a colored kid to be. 
come a nuclear physicist than it is for 
him to be a plumber." The Negro 
worker, in short, is caught in a circle of 
inadequacies. Prevented by union and 
employer prejudice from acquiring skill 
he is indeed less qualified on the ave 
for advanced employment opportunities 
when they do occur. 

Moreover, as Dr. James Conant has 
indicated in his book Slums and Suburbs 
and in many speeches to educational 
ns, there is the further inflamma- 
ble fact ti unemployment among all 
youth under 20 is currently 20 percent. 
"The problem," he emphasizes, "of un- 
employed youth in the large cities is in 
no small part a Negro problem . . . The 
existence the slums . of thousands 
of youths . . . who are both out of school 
and out of work is an explosive situation. 
1t is social dynamite. 

Realizing that rootless Negro youth 
and despairing older Negro workers 

паке casy prey for the racist demagopues 
on strcet corners, Negro labor and civic 
leaders have hardened their stands d 
all agree that this is going to be a decade 
of unremitting, organized pressure for 
nge. On New Year's Day of 


1962, A. Philip Randolph, who founded 
the Negro Americam Labor Council in 
1959 because the A.F.L-C.LO. was not 
moving fast enough to democratize 
affiliates, told a church audience in Har- 
lem that the Negro must organize for 
power because "there are по reserved 
seats. You keep what you can take. 
ame audience was told by an execu 
tive member of the North Carolin 
NAACP. that political power must be 
accumulated along with economic force. 
You may look free." he told the New 
York Negroes, “but you are just as subor- 
dinated as we in the South. 

The N.A.A.C.P. as a whole, bristling 
charges from young Negro intellectua 
and Southern direct actionists that it has 
become too “soft.” is increasingly mili- 
tant. Although high N.A.A.C.P. officials 
have criticized those who overstress dem- 
onstrations when the long-term successes 
are to be won in the courts, Roy Wilkins, 
NAACP. executive secretary, has 
reached the point at which he too speaks 
of the “growing disenchantment of the 
Negro community with sweet reason and 


The 


t 
5 


with customary channels. 
This past January, President Kennedy 
sent a message of congratulations to Wil- 
kins on the occasion of a dinner in the 
latter's honor. Wilkins brushed olt the 
President's. praise, telling Kennedy that 
the N.A.A.GP. regarded his first y 
record on civil rights “disappoint 


because Kennedy had made the "basic 
error" of approaching the problem by 
executive action alone instead of pressing 
for legislative redress. The Amsterdam 
News was ecstatic in approval. "Show 
wrote cditor James Hicks, “another 
o leader who will stand up and give 
the President of the United States hell 
just 24 hours after the President has got 
through saying ‘this is my kind of col- 
ored bo 
Representatives of the Kennedy Ad- 
ministration have tried to reason with 
the МААК. pointing out, among 
other evidences of progress, the increase 
in Negro attorneys in the Justice Depart- 
ment during the past year from 10 to 50. 
One answer, impatient 
too dissimilar from what a Black Muslim 
might say, came [rom Clarence Mitchell, 
director of the N.A.A.C.P.’s Washington 
bureau: “The Republicans and the Dem 
ocrats don’t want to give us civil rights, 
but the big difference is that the Demo- 
стау have more Negroes who can exp 
why we don't need such rights.” 
The day of adating Negro 
leaders. men willing to accept partial 
ins now for promise of more to come, 
is nearly over. Among those tolling their 
end is the Reverend Ralph Abernathy, а 
Montgomery, Alabama, minister and 
close associate of Martin Luther King in 
the Southern Christian L 
ference. "For too lo 


nd sounding not 


accomr 


cadership Con- 
Abernathy told 


a Nashville rally of nonviolent demon- 
strators, “we have been invited down- 
town, the big Baptist preacher, the 
Methodist Bishop, the Negro undertaker 
and one or two other Negroes. In a hotel, 
the Chamber of Commerce serves us tea 
and cookies, and the Negroes have слеп 
all the cookies and drunk up all the tea 
and the white men have said, "We 
wouldn't mind giving you this integra- 
tion if all of the Negroes were like you! 
But you are different from the rest. 
They leave the meeting with their chests 
stuck out, saying to "You 
know, we are diflerent from the rest of 
those Negroes.’ The time has passed for 
us to sell our people out for a cup of tea 
and a cookie! . . . 1 get so sick and tired 
of traveling across the country and Ne- 
groes coming up to me with their chests 
stuck out: Tm the only Negro in the 
City Council.’ ‘I'm the only somebody 
on a committee.” We don't want no only 
have 


anythin, 
get five or six 


themselves, 


You don't anything to 


boast of until you 


Negroes on the City Council. Then let 
me hear you boast. Here we don't have 
but four Negro Congressmen im the 


United States of America — and we boast 
about the only this and the only othe! 

‘The kind of Negro described by Aber- 
nathy is on the defensive in Negro com 
munities everywhere. His main bastion 
used to be in the South, bu n after- 
th of the sit-ins and freedom rides by 


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SHULTON 


PLAYBOY 


of à new generation, the older 


sts are also changing. After hun- 
dreds of Negrocs were imprisoned 
Mu Georgia, Jast winter during a 
de n, a wealthy Negro r 
estate man in that city told a Wall Stre 


Journal reporter; “This jailing was a 
wonderful thing. Before it happened, 1 
guess we professional people were in- 
clined to go along with the whites. We 
wanted to keep the masses pacified. We 
didn't come in contact with day-to-day 
segregation. The white people we meet 
re usually interested in selling us, and 
we don't изе the buses or feel any eco- 
nomic pressure. И was easy to forget the 
lives most Negroes have to live." In Jack- 
son, Mississippi, a Negro attorney added: 

When the freedom riders kept coming 
into Jackson. I thought that was not the 
right method. But since the overall pic 
ture has developed, C.O.R.E. and the 
other young people have done more to 
lvance. the sc ol civil rights in the 
state than anything in the last 2 
Even the 1954 Supreme Court decision, 
great as it was, did not arouse the Negro 
community like this did. 

Nor is th of racial pride 
ed to the North or to those Southern 
cities that have been invaded by the direct 
actionists. In the small town of Elloree, 
South Carolina, there used to be an 
nual Christmas parade which was c 
maxed by Santa Claus tossing candy and 
1 the children in sight. In fact, 
says Negro reporter John. McCray, the 
adult Negroes “had considered whites a 
sort of Santa Claus. White men gave them 
jobs, made them loans for crops, farm 
ws, and. food and clothing for 
amilies. They handed down di 
carded wearing apparel and excess food 
and scraps from their tables. Then came 
the U.S. Supreme Courts decision,” 

Alter 60 Neg ents in Elloree 
joined in a petition for desegregatio 
the schools, Negro wo: n to be 
fired and farmers lost their credit. At the 
end of the 1955 Christmas ade, Santa 
Claus threw gifts only to the white с 
dren. Ever since, there have been separate 
Sante Clauses in Elloree. "To hell with 
I white people now,” said an elder of 
the Negro community а couple of years 
о. "We know they aned 
Santa Claus.” 
deration and Santa Claus dis 
credited, the prognosis for the immediate 
future is a diversity of uncomprom 

As one strategist in Tennessee 
puts it: "Racism will be eliminated when 
Afro-Americans make life really incon- 
venient for anyone in our way. And T 
mean ra оп both sides, И we — who 
want to be a fully participating part of 
American life —win, the Mu nd 
the disaffiliated intellectuals will be iso- 
lated. If we do not succeed. quickly and 
completely enough, we’ 1 in trouble." 

One weapon which will be increasingly 
employed is the boycott. In the past 


n- 


ri 
of 


ims 


25 years, it has been used only imer- 
mittently in the North, but during the 
sitins, “selective buying campaigns" i 
the South stared Negroes as well as 
whites by the extent of their effectiveness. 
In Savannah, one such boycott caused ri 
tail sales in some large stores to drop as 
much as 50 percent. Last year, 400 Negro 
ministers in. Philadelphia convinced. at 
least one-third of that city’s 700,000 N 
grocs to join in a “selective patronage 
program which forced a baking company, 
softdrink concern, and an oil 
gas colossus to upgrade employment 


a major 
and 


NAACP. 
threatened a statewide boycott against all 
AXP stores that did not hire Negroes as 
cashiers, The АХР has begun to yield. A 
decision to picket a Coca-Cola bowling 
ıt in Champaign, Ilinois, was called 
after the company. president agreed 
the "next driver-salesman hired here 
by Coke will be a Negro.” In New Vork, 
the state NAACP instituted a 
selective buying campaign focused on 
three prominent ci; inulacturers 
because all d Negroes from ap- 
nice wa programs. When the 
of a linen service in Albany, 
proclaimed that he was going to 
ny of his Negro employees whe hi 
aged in desegregation demonstration 
Negro barbers told him they would no 
longer be his customers. The mani 
changed his mind. 

Aso certain to spread, especially in the 
North, are C.O.R.E-style sit-ins against 
housing discrimination. As responsible a 
housing expert as Harris L. Present, 
chairman of the New York City Council 
on Housing Location. is convinced that 
“the time has come in the City of New 
York where the techniques used by the 
freedom riders and sitin di 
will have to be 


equitable treatment for tenants." Mem- 
while, after growi n the East, 
C.O.R.E. has already begun a "Freedom 


Dweller” camp: go in addi- 
tion to another in Los Angel 
So sensitive, in fact, is the Negro com- 
munity becoming to discrimination that 
the New York branch of the N.A.A.C.P. 
recently got into trouble with its mem- 
bership for having a Cadillac as a door 
prize at a fund-raising dance. Negro sales- 
men for other auto concerns complained 
that Cadillac's employment policy ex- 
cluded them. Othe n the 
of Joc Louis and the watermelon — 
objected because, as one said, “Negroes 
€ too long becn identified. with 
ing for a Cadillac аз а status svm- 
-" Et was too late to send the c 
but the head of the chapter promised the 
incident would not be repeated. 
Concerted political action is also in- 
E gro press is not letting 
the President forget that he received 80 
percent of the 3,000,000 Negro votes cast 
in 1960. In city after city, candidates 


members — as 


being measured by more and more Ne- 
ro voters in terms of their po 
immediate projects to expand Negro op- 
portunities Much credit for the narrow 
win of New Jersey Governor Richard J 
Hughes over former Secretary of Labor 
mes Mitchell is given to Phil Weight- 

1 insistent jonist who or- 
nized a huge registration campaign fo 
New Jersev's Negroes 
In Detroit, Jerom sgh. а pol 
al unknown, defeated the incumbent 
mayor, Louis C. Miriani, even though 
the latter was supported by the А.Е. 
C.1.0. Negro voters turned against. Mit 
ani in protest against police brutality 
ad against the mavor's silence 
proposal made just before the n 
mpaign by Ne 
liam Patrick that would have strength- 
ened the antidiscrimination powers. of 
the city’s community relations commis 


on a 
oralty 


sion. In the November vote for the 
Council, Patrick. himself rose. from scv- 
enth to third. place in total number of 


ballots. Polit 
cluded in Ne: 


1 writer R. J- Widick con- 
Imerica: “The execed- 
ingly high vote in the Negro and working 
class districts put an end to the theory 
that ‘you don't have to worry about them, 
they won't vote; a theory that infuriated 
Negro leaders in Detroit who were d 
termined once and for all to break 
through the benevolent paternalism with 
which too many people, including some 
top labor leaders, ted them.” 
The first Republican municipal victory 
in Louisville in 28 years last November 
was largely due to Negro bitterness at 
reigning Democrats who had refused to 
desegregate public accommodations. In 
dition, a Negro, Mrs. Amelia Tucker, 
became the first Negro woman to be 
elected to а Southern state legislature 
since Reconstruction. Negroes already 
have the majority of the vote — 57 per- 
cent — іп Atlanta, and were responsible 
t year for the election of a liberal 
mayor as nst a segregationist. 
Negroes are now served at lunch coun- 
h because enough of them 
bloc-voted to throw out a slate of city 
who had apposed integrating the 
eating places. In Durham, North С: 
lina, Negroes form 25 percent of the 
population but turn out 30 percent of 
the vote. public schools are 
beginnin, ‘grated and. Negroes 
are being hired by, as well as served at, 
downtown lunch counters. More Negroes, 
moreover, are to be found on public 
boards and commissions. John Wheeler, 
ro president of the Mechanics & 
Farmers Bank in Durham, says flatly: 
`1 can't. point to anything here that we 
got that didn't have pressure in the back- 
ground. The political structure here lis- 


offic 


T 


tens to us because we have a strong 
bi 


mee ol power. 
In the deep South. fear still keeps many 
egroes from S. and apathy 
born of hopelessness holds down the 


терме 


number of voters in the North. Nonethe- 
less, the percentage of Negroes every- 
where who are being persuaded to register 
by the N.A.A.C.P., the Southern Chris- 
tim Leadership Conference and the 
Student Nonviolent Coordinating Com- 


mittee is inexorably rising. White poli- 
ticians are increasingly conscious that 
Negroes can push them off the public 
payroll. In New Yor the local 
Republ 


ner for the duum n candi- 
date for mayor: “If Governor. Nelson 
Rockefeller, State Attorney General 
Louis Lefkowitz and other state and city 
Republican leaders expect to win elec 
tions this year or next, they are going to 
have to improve on their race relations 
... Not only did the GOP State Com- 
mittce not have a single Negro on the 
program, but there wasn't even a token 
Negro among 61 persons seated on the 
dais at the dinner.” 
atist Negro leaders are as 
transigent in fighting for equal rights 
in education as they are in making their 
ical weight felt. They are disturbed 
at the fact that eight years after the Su 
preme Court school decision, only seven 
percent of Negro pupils in the South are 
in mixed classes. When the border states 
are omitted, that figure drops to one per- 
cent. They are equally angered by the 
less:publicized phenomenon of “resegre- 
As whites move to the suburbs 
ve neighborhoods into which Ne- 
groes are finally being admitted, newly 
schools 


desegregated quickly become 
nearly all-Ncgro in such cities as Wash- 
ington, Baltimore, St. Louis, Oklahoma 


City and Miami. There is now more scg- 


regation in the Baltimore and St. Loi 
school systems than before the 1954 
decisio 


As а result, there will be mounting 
campaigns for Federal open-housing laws 


and executive orders to that effect. The 
core of prejudice everywhere is lack of 
be- 


neighborhood, day-to-lay contact 
tween the races as equals. Meanw 
there is an increasingly fierce struggle 
against the extension of segregation-by- 
neighborhood to the schools, and this 
fight is beginning to awaken many North- 
ern whites to Negroes’ impatience with 
gradualism. The school board of New 
Rochelle in New York State has not yet 
fully recovered from the shock of a fed- 
judge telling it that it had been 
i ted school system 
neighborhood 
policy” оГ a allocating children to schools. 
ation in New York City is rising. 
Although am "open enrollment" plan 
now allows elementary and ju igh 
school children to transfer to 4 
school outside of their neighborhoods, 
that plan does not cover high schools. 
Ninety percent of the Negro pupils at 
high school level arc assigned to 20 per- 


or 


mi 


cent of the city's high schools. Last year 
a suit was filed : against the Board of Edu 
cation to end this practice, because fewer 
Negro parents are willing to wait u 
they can move their families into inte 
grated neighborhoods. Their children are 
n school now, and now is when they want 
changes made. Already the Superintend- 
ent of Schools has promised. major con- 
cessions, and the suit has been dropped. 

Court action has been started to abol- 
ish neighborhood boundary policies in 
the Chicago and Detroit school systems, 
and other cities are on the list. Leading 
many of these actions is New York at- 
torney Paul Zuber who rts: "The 
North must rcalize that the 'New Negro" 
that they have read about in the South is 
becoming ever present in Northern 
states." Zuber, too, is making use of the 
role reversal” game in his speeches. “If 
white people," Zuber has stated, “were 
compelled to li a society where new 
islation would determine whether or 
historical rights were going to 
be protected, new legislation would be 
the first order of every state legislature 
and city council in the Northern states.” 

In view of this mood, it was no sur- 
prise when Negro leaders united to con- 
demn Dr. James Conant’s resistance to 
bursting through neighborhood boundary 
lines in schooling. Conant feels that it is 
more important to improve slum schools 
than to “effect token integration by trans- 
porting pupils across attendance lines.” 
"The essence of the counterargument was 
given by Samuel Pierce, a Negro member 
of the New York City Board of Edu 


tion: “И a Negro never gets an oppor 
tunity to associate or compete mentally 
in the classroom with whites when he is 
he may well grow up feeling 
ite, insecure and inferior when he 


because of this psychological factor, be 
able to compete successfully. The obvious 
consequence will be a limitation on N 
gro progress and a retardation of the 
integration process. 
“Now Conant is an intelligent and 
conscientious man,” said a Negro judg 
“and yet he still could not understand 
that simple a point. This controversy 
shows how much you whites still have 


e just starting is an insist- 


ence that textbooks be radically changed 


to omit distortions about the Negro and 
to cover much more fully the richness and 
complexity of Afro-American achieve- 
ments and of pre-colonial civilization in 
Africa itself. In a Cleveland high school 
that is 95 percent Negro, a pupil finally 
asked her history teacher last fall, “Sir, 
why do these history books always show 
us picking cotton? I have never been in 
а cotton field in my life. 
A recent survey by the Anti-Defama- 
ion League on the way minorities are 
treated in secondary school textbooks 
makes a point that has yet to occur to 
ites but is a gnawing source of 

among Negroes: “Histor- 
can Negroes continue to be 
childlike 
bewildered 


DL 


M 


“The Little Old Winemaker — that's who!” 


89 


PLAYBOY 


frecdmen. Most textbooks do not chron- 
ide the achievements of this people in 
the years from 1876 to the present. 
Where attention is given to outstanding 
Negroes in American history, the pres- 
entation is insufficient to counterbalance 
the previously created stereotype of a 
cially inferior group." 

“I once asked a white teacher when 1 
was in grade school,” says a Muslim 
leader, "about my people's history. She 
told me we didn't have any. 
As a group, textbook publishers are 
notoriously unwilling to antagonize any 
section of the county and have conse- 
quently been largely reluctant to act on 
criticisms of Negro coverage in history 
and social science texts. It is a sale pre- 
diction, however, that many publishers 
will yield by the end of the decade, and 
probably before then. More Negroes arc 
being elected to school boards 
Negro parents are prepared to keep their 
children out of school for the 
principle and strategy 

The inescapable point is that even if 
they wanted to— and they do not — Ne- 
gro leaders cannot let up on the pressures 
they arc applying in any of these arcas 
because they in turn are being pushed. 
No Negro leader is immune to charges of 
softness. A. Philip Randolph has single- 
handedly forced George Meany to invite 
the once “outlaw” Negro American La- 
bor Cosel to work with the A.F.L. 
„LO. ion discrimination. 
nues to dramatize the 
gulf between labor's promises and results 
and will not let "big labor" rest. Yct a 
Negro nationalist paper, African Neu 
and Views, referred scornfully last N 
vember to the fact that Randolph's 
Pullman Porters Union employs a white 
lawyer, ite auditor and a white 
economist and that it leases space in 
Harlem from a white landlord. 
camel driver,” the newspaper cont 
“could come all the way from Paki 
nd become the owner of a deed to опе 
square inch of land in Texas, certainly 
the Pullman Porters could become 
owners of at least one square foot of real 
te in Harlem where they have been 
located for more than 30 years.” 

Nor is Martin Luther King safe from 
criticism from his own followers. In the 
past year, although King remains a very 
meaningful symbol to many coll 
dents in the "movemen! there have 
been sounds of diss: tion. King has 
been с ed with lack of adininistrative 
ability and, more seriously, with lack of 
fire. He concedes there is some truth to 
both accusations. A shy man, he would 
preter a much more contemplative life 
than he is now forced to le: 
more skilled in theolog 
ties of social dislocation. “One of my 
weaknesses leader," he has said, “is 
that I am too courteous and I'm not can- 
did enough. However, I feel that my 
softness has helped in one respect: peo- 


5 


ple have found it easy to become recon- 
ciled around me.” 

In any case, King has no intention of 
withdrawing from the battle. His South- 
ern Chri n Lea dership Conference is 
intensifying its projects to get ? Negroes 
registered in the South. C.O.R.) 
expanding its activities, and there w 
be more waves of Freedom Riders. A 
newer force, the Student Nonviolent Co- 
ordinating Committee, represents the 
toughest cadre of nonviolent commandos 
in the South, Most of its basic staff of 
16 are Negro college students who have 
pledged to stay out of school for at k 

r. They work in the rural v; 
. Mississippi and Loui 
з the committee 


insists that its workers live among 
Negroes they are trying to register. “Fhe 
people we deal with,” says one of its 


organi e so afraid of retaliation 
that at first, many will not even talk 
about voting. The only way we can 
make progress with them — and we have 
— isto stay long enough, eat what they 
cat, live where they live, and. thereby 
gain their confidence. Also, by being 
there, we act buffer and take upon 
ourselves much of the white anger that 
would otherwise fall on them. 
Members of the Student Nonviolent 
Coordinating Committee draw $10 a 
weck — when it's available, They func- 
tion as ап autonomous organization, 
nd privately, most of them consider the 
„С.Р. too cautious and Martin 
Luther King too concerned with specch- 
making rather than with accelerated 
ction. "He lost me," says опе girl, 
when he w sing on those Freedom. 
Rides into Mississippi. And how come 
he's moved his headquarters into a pre- 
dominantly white office building in At 
nta with segregated toilets?” 
In addition to their role as the most 
militant Negroes in the South (except- 
the Muslims and other separ 
alitarians in the Student Nonviolent 
Coordinating Commitee a ific 
in yet another way. Unlike many middle- 


class Negro students who have par 
sit-ins 


pated in nd freedom rides, 
Snick's actionists are not at all certain 
they will be content when full integra- 
tion is finally achieved. They join with 
young Negro intellectuals in the North 

а questioning the essential value struc- 
ture of American society. 

Charles McDew, chairman of the Student 
Noi Coordinating Committee, 
emphasizes: “I'm fighting for а posi- 
tion of choice. I w able to make 
up my own m much of this 
society I'm willing to i 
Too many of the ‘freedom riders’ don't 
think beyond integration. But men 
ought not to live and dic for just wash- 
ing machines and big television scis. 
When this part of the fight is over, I ex- 
pect to до on and work for organic 
change in this country's political and 


olent 


economic structure so that integration 
be worth having." 


There is an anguished echo of McDew 
in James Baldwin: "People always tell 
me how many Negroes bought Cadillacs 
last year. This terrifies me. I always 
wonder: Do you think this is what the 
country is for? Do you really think this 
is why I came here, this is why I suf- 
fered, this is what I would die for? A 
lousy Cadillac?” 

Another voice in this chorus of funda 
mental dissent is that of the Reverend 
James Lawson, a former leader of the 
Nashville sit-ins. Lawson works 
Martin Luther King but is con: 
much more penetrating а theori: 
nd a more daring actionist. There 
lence that Lawson aspires to the 
eventual leadership of the nonviolent 
“movement.” In 1960, he criticized the 
N.A.A.C.P. as “too bourgeois.” Last ус 
Lawson told the annual meeting of the 
Southern Christian Leadership Confer- 
ence: “Serious revolution is total and 
main a question mark over every 
aspect of society. No institution is taken 
for granted . . . Most of us work simply 
for concessions from the system, not for 
transforming the system . . . Does not 
our political system encourage segre; 
tion? It not just the lack of Negro 
voting, but the failure of systems to pro- 
vide real choices for voters. The есоп- 
omy of the South encourages segrega 
— with cheap labor, keeping сеп 
groups of Negroes and whites pawns of 
financial interests, using race hate to 
stop unions... We must recognize that 
we are merely in the prelude to revolu 
tion — the beginn iot the end, not 
even the middl 

Also looking beyond integration is 
James Bevel, who is in charge of a non 
lent action group in Jackson, M 
sissippi. “И nonviolent action will work 
in Mississippi,” he says, "it will work 
anywhere. If it can eradicate segrega- 


tion, it can eradicate any evil. I can see 
the possibility of a worldwide nonvio- 
lent student movement, Т can see the 


possibility of a nonviolent movement 
uniting the students of India and Rus- 
sia and China and America. I can even 
sec a nonviolent movement on the bat- 
tlefield. 

Other Negroes, not 
as Bevel about the practical potential 
of nonviolent action, nonetheless do 
agree that their own function will be to 
continue to question the foundations of 
American society. "The question is 
openly being raised," says Lorraine 
Hansberry, "among all Negro intellec- 
шаһ, among all pol ly conscious 
Negroes: Is it necessary to integrate 
oneself into à burni 

So far there has been minute recog- 
nition of this result of Negroe: 
ment in the struggle for the 
Some young Negroes are evolving 
a new role — 


ly so sanguine 


discrimination but of the total context 
of life in America. It is of this Negro 
that Professor Kenneth Clark says: "He 
cannot be content to demand integra 
tion and personal acceptance into a de- 
tying moral structure. He cannot help 
his country gird itself for the arduous 
struggle before it by a willingness to 
share equally in a tottering structure of 
moral hypocrisy, social inse ity, per- 
sonal despair and desperation. He must 
demand that the substance and strength 
inherent in the democratic process be 
fulfilled rather than cynically abused 
and disparaged.” 

The weight of evidence now indicates 
meanwhile that integration itself may 
be fully achieved in time to prevent the 
Black Muslims and other separatist 
groups from being more than a historical 
footnote to the period of catharsis 
among Negroes that preceded the final 
abolition of racial barriers in this coun- 
try. The pressures are working. In 
Macon, Georgia, the home until two 
years ago of the Grand Imperial Dragon 
of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, 
Mayor Edgar Wilson admits: “We've 
been watching these frecdom rides and 
boycotts in other cities, and we're get- 
ting the picture. Even Robert E. Lee 
finally had to surrender, didn’t he?” 

The labor unions may also be forced 
to desegregate much sooner than most 
are willing to, as a result of unrelenting 
pressure from A. Philip Randolph and 
other critics within and outside the labor 
movement, Many employers have already 
k reaction to 
multiple pressure: чагу. for one 
example the country's 50 leading produc- 
ers of defense weapons and heavy equip- 
ment — with a labor force of 3,500,000 — 
agreed not only to end discrimination 
on Government projects but in every 
area of their work and in all units, sub- 
sidiaries and divisions of their corpora- 
tions. Negro leaders complain that this 
agreement has so far been mainly on 
paper, but for those companies who lag, 
there will be increased economic pres- 
sure in the form of boycotts as well as 
inevitable legislative and executive coer- 
cion on local and national levels. In 
similar ways, the schools will be redeseg- 
regated by increasing abandonment of 
the policy whereby children attend only 
schools eighborhoods. 

More slowly but just as inexorably, 
changes are taking place in individuals. 
Last fall, a Negro civil rights leader 
lectured at a Southern white college. 
She needed transportation to а Negro 
school some 40 miles away, and a white 


in their own 


student volunteered to drive her. “You 
might get into trouble," she warned 
" the boy answered, “you doi 


understand. I need to do this. I've been 
waiting for this moment a long time." 

Percy Sutton, head of the New York 
City branch of the N.A.A.CP., was 
jailed in Jackson, M а few 


months ago. While in the station house, 
he later told Murray Kempton of the 
New York Post, “А policeman came up 
to me and said not to look at him and 
go on smoking my cigarette while he 
talked. He said that he only wanted to 
say that he had worked in Negro sections 
all his life and wondered how Negro 
women could respect Negro men who 
had to come in at the back door all the 
time and that he understood. 

More and more Negroes at the same 
time are working through their distrust 
and hatred for whites to agreement with 
Martin Luther King that "black su- 
premacy is as dangerous as white su- 
premacy." Jazz trumpeter Donald Byrd, 
for one, has disassociated himself from 
those of his colleagues who are using 
jazz as a racist expression. He wrote to 
Down Beat: “I would like to speak solely 
from the standpoint of a human being — 
for once not from the standpoint of race 
— because you must remember that jazz 
s based on European harmony and 
melodic concepts . . . I think that 
contrary to the views of many people 
in jazz it is time we joined with other 
classical and otherwise, to 
purely for the joy of creat. 


ing it" 

Even the image of Santa Claus is be- 
ginning to change in so previously un- 
likely a place as Atlanta where, Jet 
magazine reported last Christmas, a 
Negro Santa Claus was hired for a white- 
owned record shop. "Although he is the 
first Negro Santa Claus to appear any- 
where in Atlanta, he registered surprise 
that white kids expressed neither shock 
nor resentment while Negro kids kept 
rubbing their eyes in disbeli 

There are many abrasions, awakenings 
and more serious wounds to come before 
the white man ceases to regard himself 
as Santa Claus and the Negro stops 
thinking of white as the Devil's color. 
For many generations, pockets of hatred 
will remain among both whites and 
Negroes, but the strong likelihood is that 
the major issues between the races in 
Amcrica will be resolved in from 10 to 
20 years, some of them sooner. There- 
after, the next stage of dissent in this 
country may well be led by a new kind 
of integrated minority demonstrating 
against all the rest of us, Negro and 
white, in an attempt to broaden and 
deepen the social revolution. 

Judging by the composition of many 
of the burgeoning peace groups, this 
stage has already begun. A Negro “free- 
dom fighter” recently clipped an Associ 
ted Negro Press Bulletin which began: 
‘The Defense Department made clear 
that it is against segregation in the nu- 
clear fallout shelter program.” He gri 
maced, and said to a friend, "TI 
where we go from here. I'll be damned 
if I want to be integrated into oblivion." 


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92 


BUS STORY „алса from page ez) 


“It is 98 percent successful," said Harry 
calmly. 


Well,” she replicd, “if I were you, 
Id get that money in some other way, 
d have the oper . if you 


conscience bothers you about s 
пог to those soldiers. 

“It docs bother me a 
Harry, “I hate the idea of helping those 
poor boys ruin their lives with drink. 


in jail, if you want my honest opin 
instead of giving him that concession to 
sell poison to American boys.” 

“Well, 1 sure agree with you. and if 
you feel that way, you definitely ought 
not to go down there,” she answered with 
some heat. “H your uncle's that kind of 
man, he probably wouldn't give you the 
money anyhow. 

“He probably wouldn't,” s 
gloomily. "Uncle Charles 
preity untrustworthy.” 

“I bet he wouldn't give it to you at 
all,” siid the girl. "You ought to settle 
down somewhere in this country and get 
a job and make the money yourself 

"You're right,” said Harry, He thought 
for a moment “What kind of town is 
Harrisburg? Do they have opportu 
for engineers il 

"Why 
engincci 

“Yes, I hold a degree from the 


id Harry 
always 


was 


ics 


blandly. 


"You do? What kind of engineering?” 
"Civil" 
“Well, isn't that am. My own 


father is a civil engine 
It wasn't amazing at all. She had told 
Harry that her father was а civil engi 


neer earlier that night. But Harry looked 
startled and said, “Well, what do you 
know?" 


“I bet my father could get you 
I'm sure he could, in fact, easy 
aused, staring straight ah 
c if he were en, 
deep cogitation. “I have to to 
New Orleans anyhow, because of poor 
Grandma. But afterward, do you suppose 
J could meer your father and talk to him 
about an enginecring position?” 

"Oh, sure. 

“That 
Harry. 

"The bus scemed to be stopping. Harry 
looked up as the driver announced that 
there would be a 45-minute rest stop Io 
breakfast. A sleepy bustle began in the 
bus During their conversation, it had 
turned broad day. The rain of the night 
before had stopped and bright sunshine 
washed down into the muddy yard where 
the bus stood parked. 

“Where are we?" asked the girl. 
Looks like a post stop stuck out in 
the middle of nowher id Harry. 

He and the girl got up and left the 


job. 


d, 


would be wonderful 


bus with the other passengers, including 


the old farmer who stared  dubiously 
over his shoulder at them. The post stop 
was nothing more than an ordinary 


rn on an 


pty stretch of 
highway. There were no tourist cabins or 
sleeping accommodations, just a house 
ad а bam considerably remodeled into 
a restaurant He and the girl walked 
inside the restaurant. 

Some dump," said Harry. "You'd 
ink they'd stop їп a regular bus station 
а town somewhere, I'd thought of 
nd catching 40 winks in 
hotel.” Stubborn to the bitter end. Harry 
still had a vague hope of getting her into 
some hotel. Now even that was out, dim 
chance though it was; the bus wouldn't 
stop again till they rcached Cleveland, 
except to take on and let off passengers. 
Harry glared coldly at the fat, bustling 
man in the apron who scemed to run the 
place. It was times like this that made 
п feel like getting into a tussle. The 
girl was going to get nd there was 
nothing he could do about it. “What a 
dump,” he repeated. “The whole damn 
family runs the place. There's the wile 
behind the counter, and there are the 
Kids waiting table, and there's old 
grandma at the cash register. What a 
dump to park us at." 

As they passed a door marked tapis, 
the girl said, "I better go in here and 
wash up." 

“Sure,” answered Harry. "While you 
do, ГШ call New Orleans and see how 
my grandmother is, if that phone works.” 

The girl hesitated, then blushed and 
leaned toward him and whispered, "Can 
1 have my panties” 

Harry was on the verge of slipping 
them to her, but something stopped him. 
“Well,” he said in a low tone, "some- 
body might sce me hand them to you. 
ГИ give them to you on the bus.” 

While the girl was in the ladies’ room, 
Harry made his long-distance call to 
Glenville, asked Information for the best 
hotel, and reserved a room and bath at 
the Hotel Jef Davis. The girl was still in 
there, so he went to the men’s room him- 
self, then came back and stood looking at 
с rush in the restaurant, а sour disgust 
on his face. A northbound bus had come 
in at the same time and the place was 
busy. 

At that moment, the old fa 
been gawking and coughing at Harry 
and the girl on the bus shuffled up to get 
a drink from the water fountain by 
Harry’s elbow, As he went by, the m 
made the error of glancing with cold 
contempt at Harry. A litle tickle went 
down Harry's spine. 

What are you look: 
asked quietly. 

The man, who seemed to be around 
50, turned. to stare at Harry. "Nobody 
much, I reckon," he said. 


ying over 


mer who'd 


at, Pop?” he 


Harry slowly walked up close to the 
man, eyes as remote and cold as the gray 
perpetual ice of distant Siberia. Some- 
thing in those eyes made the farm: 
stocky and abl 
self as if a panther had suddenly mate- 
rialized before him out of thin air. 
soft, whispered voice, Harry said, "I 
don't like the way vou were looking at 
my wife back on the bus, you old son of 
а bitch. What were you thinking, she's 
some tramp 1 picked up?” 

Pale, open-mouthed like a fish, the 
farmer swallowed heavily, and in a ver 
different tone said, “L wasn't thinking 
nothing 

"Yes, you were. You've got a mind as 
dirty as the combined britches of Mat- 
thew, Mark, Luke and John, you stink 
ing old bastard. You insulted my wile, 
and you'd better say your prayers, be- 
cause I'm going to break your god- 
damned neck in about two second. 

The farmer, utterly intimidated and a 
bloodless gray, stared at Harry as if he 
were a demon come to drag him to hell 
His mouth moved but no words came 
ame from him as 
d gently seized the 
. Now, this dreadful 
to kill him. The 
h terror and 


whispered Harry. 

2. Im sorry,” said the farmer. 
Harry released the overalls. “OK,” he 

said. “Now, get out of my sight, you old 


bastard. Don’t stay to cat. Get your ass 
out to that bus.” 
“Yes, sir,” said the farmer. Like a 


beaten dog, he turned and walked out, 
too frightened even to look back. Harry 
watched him, with a faint s . It was 
a nice hustle. No one in the restaurant 
had noticed a thing. But it was too bad, 
that the fellow hadn't. had 
re starch. Harry had not been kidding. 
It was the one th 
est about. If he told а m 


п а мау, 


he w: 


always һоп- 
he would kill 


him, he meant it. Murder came nat 
urally to Harry 
Fen seconds later, Harry was as calm 


as if nothing h 
he wa 


1 happened. If anything, 
n before; the incident 
ged some of his icy anger that. 
11 was going to escape. Was there 
no way? There was not. He winced 
genuine distress. A thing like this was 
the health. In sour disgust, he 
in at the busy members of the 
family that operated the post stop, the 
mother behind the counter. the grandn 
at the cash r the adolescent boy 
and the three girls waiting on tables. 


with a sudden dazzling inspiration, just 


like that. Wham! Out of nowhere. A 
moment later, the girl came out of the 
ladi and. walked up to him with 


at smile. Her face was washed and 
her hair combed, but she still looked. 


“1 still say he'd have won if her shorts hadn't fallen down.” 


PLAYEOY 


pale after the long night. 

"Hello. beautiful" he 
"Want some breakfast?’ 
“I sure do!" she said. 
“Alrighty: looks like all the tables 
ге taken, so you sit right down there at 
the end of the counter. Dont order, Ell 


the bus driver had said: that left at least 
а good 30 minutes, probably more. Не 
turned and strolled over to the gray- 
red lady at the cash register, leaned 


toward her and spoke in à low tone. 
“I'd like to speak to the manager on a 
confidential matter,” he said. 


"He's in the kitchen,” said the woman. 
“What is it? 

“Ies а personal matter,” said Harry. 

“Well, he's back there. Right through 
those doors. 

The manager of the post stop was а 
balding, nervous man with a cast in one 
eye. Harry walked over to him and said, 
xcuse me, sir, but I have a serious 
problem that may be a matter of life 
and death. 

“What?” exclaimed the m: 

“Don't be nervous, sir, but it is fairly 
serious. My young wife and 1 arc travel- 

ng to Biloxi, Mississippi, to visit her 
sick brother, and you see, sir, she is in 
a delicate condition.” 

The man’s eyebrows went up. “Having 
a baby?" he asked. 

“Yes, sir. It’s only in the third month, 
so don't be alarmed, but the doctors 
have warned that this trip may bring 
on a miscarriage. She has been having 
pains for the last hundred miles, with 
all the jostling of the bus, and 1 won- 
dered, sir, if you would be so kind as to 
allow the poor girl to lie down some 
where, if only for a few minutes, and 
rest? 

“Why, sure," said the man, “except 
we're rushed — she can go back in the 
house, I'll get one of my girls to take 
you-all back there." 

"Sir," said Harry sadly, "my little wife 
is terribly self-conscious about her condi- 
tion, Its her first baby, you know. Could 
you show me the room first, then let me 
go get her and take her alone, to spare 
the poor girl embarrassment? 

‘The man, who during this conversa- 
tion was trying to fry a pan of eggs and 
grill two dozen strips of bacon, said, “I 
got a better idea. Get her and go back 
yourself, you can find it, the house is 
open — just go right through that door 
1 along a passage, and in the door at 
the end there's а hall, then you go down 
that hall to the second door, that’s my 
mothers bedroom. Your wife 
down there awhile.” 

“Thank you ever so much, sir; 


can lie 


id 


Harry. “You're 1 gentleman.” 
“Anytime,” said the man. 
Delighted with the brilliance of his 


inspiration, though such inspiration was 


a normal thing for Harry when he felt 
the pressure of score. he 
turned with a springy step and went 
back into the restaurant section out 
fi "The girl looked up from her stool 
at the counter with a pleased smile 
when he walked over to her. Harry took 
her arm, 

“Come with me [or a second,” he 
said. 

Where?” she asked. 
Ill show you, just back here.” 

Puzzled, the girl followed him past 
the cash register. Harry nodded politely 
to the grandmother as they went by. It 
would be her bedroom, probably. 

Why are we going in the kitchen?" 
asked the кй. 

“Just passing through," said Harry. 
He nodded with polite sobriety at the 
nager, who now was busy over a pan 
of potatoes. 

“But whe 


are we going?" asked the 


"I want to show 
honey.” said Harry. 

What do you want to show me?" 

“Something very, very interesting.” 

Puzzled but in no way alarmed, the 
girl let him guide her along the covered 
passage between the barn and the house. 
With a small bow, Harry opened the 
door of the house and held it for her, 
smiling gently. 

“Do you know the people that live 
here" she asked, as Harry led her down 
the hall. 

“Umm-hmm,” he replied. "And Гуе 
got a wonderful surprise for you, too, 
honey.” He opened the door to the 
second room. "Right in here." Harry 
guided her in and closed the door qui- 
ctly behind him. 

The girl looked around with a mild 
curiosity. It was a small and rather dark 
little bedroom with chintz curtains in 
the window and a torn green shade. 
‘The bed was covered with a crazy quilt 
and had a large chamber pot beneath it. 

"What are we doing in here?" she 
asked. "And what's the surprise?” 

Harry walked slowly toward her, then 
held out his arms. “Me,” he said. 

A look of faint apprehension came 
into the girl's eyes. Even now, however, 


you something, 


she was not really alarmed. "Now, 
Tom,” she said, trying to slip from 
embrace. 


Kiss me,” said Harry. 
No, I can't,” she answered. 
here. 
Sure you can,” said Harry. He had 
his arms around her, his hands firm in 
the small of her back. “Kiss-hiss.” 

Not in here, like this,” she replied, 
in a pious tone. "It wouldn't be right. 
Come on, honey," he said softly. 

"Well, just a little one,” said the girl. 
"Then we've got to —" 

Three minutes later, it suddenly 
dawned on the girl that it was possible 
her situation had in it some clements of 


“Not in 


danger. Twice, as they sat on the edge 
of the bed, he had pushed her over on 


her back, and twice, she had struggled 
back up ‘But I don't want to lie 
down!" she whispered. “Tom, you must 


stop this! Tom, please! Please, Tom!” 

“Move your feet over here like this, 
you'll be more comfortable. That's 
right, now just lay back on the pillow. 
Hands tight on her shoulders, Harry 
pushed hard, with sudden force. Dow 
she went. Now kiss me again. That's a 
sweet girl. Another.” 

Even now, lying on the bed with 
Harry half across her, the girl obviously 
did not realize exactly what was hap- 
pening. Nervous and frightened though 
she was, nevertheless she responded to 
his kisses, as she had donc on the bus. 
Two minutes later, not more than five 
minutes after they first entered the l 
tle bedroom, her dress was high above 
her waist and suddenly then it dawned 
on her that an incredible thing was 
about to happen. It was practically hap- 


pening! What could she do? 
‘Lom, please,” she whispered. "We 
can't." 


“Move your knees," he replied, in a 
strange voice. 

"I can't! Please!” 

There are times to be tender, and 
there are times to be just a little bit 
rough. This was a time to be just a 
little bit rough. Left forca 
across her breasts and left hand gripping 
her shoulder so hard she winced, Harry 
used his knee like a wedge, gray eyes 
bove her. "Open your legs" 
cold, harsh and vicious tonc. 
Lips apart and eyes empty with shock, 
the girl did as she was told. А moment 
later, hands limp on his shoulders, a 
gasp came from her. Then, another 
gasp- 

As if in a dream, she opened her eyes 
and looked up. Не was propped on his 
elbows, smiling. “Now,” he said gently, 
“relax. See? There's nothing to it 

In numbed bewilderment, as totally 
befuddled as it is possible to be, the girl 
watched him suddenly withdraw from 
her completely and sit over on the side 
Ш there was to it? 
5 olf his shoes and 


Slip off your dress and bra,” said 
Harry. “We've got a good 20 minutes.” 
He grinned. “And relax. You've lost it, 
the worst is over.” 

Stark naked, tanned muscles rippling, 
Harry was beautiful. With a natural 
grace, he walked across the room and 
wedged a chair under the knob of the 
door. The g had 
pulled her dress over her head but had. 
not taken the sleeves all the way down 
her arms and had not removed her br 
she followed him with her eyes as he 
turned and walked toward her. Numbed. 
and dulled and shocked out of kilter аз 
all her mental processes were, she stared 


dazed fashion, 


at him in awe, fright and admiration. 
As һе sat down by her, she wet her lips 
d, "Are we going to арай 
rry smiled and kissed her cheek as 
he unsnapped the bra. “That was only 
a technical operation, honey," he said. 


little sweet darling." 
face had in this moment a genu 
derness and warmth. Now, as he circled 
his golden arms tight around her, shut 
his eyes and smelled the soap in her soft 
blonde h: a feeling of deep relief and 
joy flooded through him; then, as in 
bliss and rapture he proceeded with the 
act of generation, the cmotion of love 
brielly wa 

soul. “My little darling!” 
angel!” 


The girl was sobbing on the bed. Her 
conscience had caught up with her. She 
also was complaining thar he had hurt 
her. Well, what did she expect, violins? 

“It won't hurt you so much next 
time,” he said, narrowing his eyes to 
keep out the cigarette smoke. 

“Oh,” said the girl. “Oh, oh, oh!” 

"You better quit bawling and get 
dressed, or we'll miss that bus,” said 
Harry. "Go on, now, put your clothes 
on." 

Trying to control her sobs, tears 


streaming down her check 
stood up with tr 
gan awkwardly try 
panties. 


the girl 


said. "What 
would my and Papa say? Oh, Oh!" 

"Don't tip ‘em off," said Harry. 

A few minutes later, dressed. but still 
snifflin irl walked 
with Harry toward the bedroom door 
and glumly watched him unpry the 
chair. She sniffed loudly and asked. 
“When are you coming to Harrisburg? 

“Oh, one of these days.” said Harry. 

Luckily, by a gnat’s whisker, they 
made the bus. It was already turning to 
pull out and Harry had to yell at the 
driver. 


and weeping, the 


said the driver, 
ere were you?" 
Picking da 4 Harry 

As he and the girl walked down the 
aisle, Harry noticed the old farmer, who 
was crouched down in his seat si at 
Hi. Pop!" he said cheerfully. 


as they got o 


the floor. 


In the seat, as the bus resumed its 
age south, the girl began to weep 


ell me something, honey. How you 
spell your first name?" The girl told 
him, and he asked, "Now, how old arc 
you, doll?” The girl said her 17th birth- 
day had been a week before. This 
started her crying harder, because the 
trip had been a birthday present from 


her Mama and P; 
and believed in her 
asked Harr 
or a light brown? 


that your h: 


who trusted her 
Would you i 
r was blonde 
, wh One 


Blond 


more question and that wraps iu” sid 


Harry. 
your w 


"I'm five four and n weigh a 


and 16," 


ing it all down n for? 


are you and whats 


“So PI remember you always" an- 


the er 
Doubt, like a snake, had seized her. He 


seemed 


Face puck 


ed Harry. 

she began to weep. "Lom," 
Tom, won't you tell me when 
you're coming to Harrisbu: 
1 said, real soon, doll." 


and indill 
and weepy, she 
"Do you hate me, for what 1 did: 

“Why, no, honey," s 
were a real sweetheart 


But where will I write you?” 
field, General Delivei 


trying not to cry 


ent now. 
ked, 


d Harry. “You 


She cried all the way to Cleveland. 
Harry paid no attention. They all cried, 


sooner or lat 
the future. 
his path would surely rev 
day when he would find 


. His thoughts were on 
ancy on th 


new vistas 
, until the 
permanent. 


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PLAYBOY 


GALLEY CHEF continue prom paze 15) 


yacht club to another, you c 
foad andidan E wherever уой 
tie up. Longer trips are simply floating 
picnics: you pack your portable cooler 
with rare roast beef and rich brown 
pieces of barbecued chicken, fill a deep 
bowl with German potato salad, stack 
the fresh rye and the pumpernickel, re 
member the mustard, add the necessary 
mount of cold lager to your cargo. and 
shove off For or weekend 
cruise, you'll want fare 
from your own g 
signed to the job n 
or two when he or 
but when the 
hashed brown 
chowder first 
know that th 
is stationed below. 

Yo the landed gentry who m 
lı the customs of marine 
it should be pointed out that 
cooking equipment on most boats is, of 


1 pick up 
appen to 


she lights the stove, 
of crisp. bacon or 
oes or hot clam 
deck, all hands 
master of the vessel 


necessity, a of 
citified gea 

Yet after a few offshore out you'll 
discover unexpected virtues your 


vest pocket kitchen. With elbow room at 
a premium in the narrow cooking space, 
you learn how to stow all food within 
rm's reach, It's always a matter of sur- 
prise to see how much grog, grub and 
equipment a small galley can hold. 
You'll find that a single all-purpose he 
— bouquet даті cam substitute vei 
well for the dozen or so apothecary jars 
you would normally 
‘Thermos jugs mounted on gimbals use 
wall space that would otherwise be 
wasted. The shallow drawers of your 
food locker put all provisions in easy 
ew. On board you use one saucepan 
where you'd ordinarily be tempted to 
use two or thr limitation that 
compels vou to chart an casy menu 
course. Again, because of 
ters, you'll buy pans that a 
fitted with removable handles so tha 
опе handle can do the work of [our 
The marine ove 
compels you to use decp pots with 1 
row diameters, а type which happens to 
be just right for those soups or stews 
which shouldn't be reduced too quickly. 
The same deep pots incidentally, are 
isurance against uncx pected tidal waves 


p- Colfeepots and 


around 


your s 


of clam broth or gravy spilling over the 
galley deck. Plastic salt and pepper 


shakers can be made to defy the laws of 
E fitting them with small 
nets that will secure them to the s 
les 


ity by 


steel counter surface. 
sing schedules on rivers, lakes and 
all over the world are alike in one 
respect: the best laid schemes sang aft 
the face of becalmed waters or 
ng engines, Anticipating these nor- 
mil delays, ап experienced commodore 
sees to t there are always extra 


ds will welcome 
Buy the type which re- 
rcs mo refrigeration. Canned C 


canned ham. 
qu 


dianstyle bacon, another name for 
smoked boneless pork loi equally 
good hot or cold, on land or sca. In the 


canned-chicken department, the 
size units containing whole chicke 
your best bet; small cans or jars, with 
the exception of those containing whole 
breast of chicken, are likely to be filled 
with trimmings rather than thick chunks 
of meat. Corned beef hash or roast beef 
hash, both stanch nautical standby 
go into the frying pan without 
additions, although you can 
them mightily with a few beaten egg 
yolks and a spray of Worcestershire. 


any 
enhance 


Among canned meats aud seafood, the 
field, of course, is now unlimited — 
from galantine to gaflelbiter. Just re- 


member, though, that some of the foods 
which sound exotic — 
canned wild boar — 1 
satisfy ravenous seafarers as readily as 
fous helpings of chili con 
meatstuffed ravioli and other 
tested. pleasures. 

days when 
ack, c 


nothing, n 
n warm a crew 


even 150-proof 
like mugs of hot thick soup. The hug 
baskets of provisions once required to 
make hot potages ате now reduced to 
paper envelopes. Until recently most 
dehydrated soups were better left un- 
sipped. "The newer soups, however, fol- 
lowing the Swiss recipes for smoky 
green-pea soup or cream of leeks, are 
last and сазу. You may want to add a 
lump of sweet butter or a generous dash 
of m but even without these flour 
ishes, they're 

One of the best ways to broaden your 
cull 


ary hoi 


If you know where 
to dig for clams or scallops, or сап 
to а clam or oyster 
shed, lobster pound, or a w i 
store where such piscine provender as 
swordfish steak or red snapper can be 
bought, half the galley bite is won. 
Cruising down Chesapeake Bay, for in- 
stance, you'll find dozens of coves where 
fresh-cooked e dv to go 
into. salads, cakes or cr. 
meat newb: 


is 


IL or medium-size craft 
ust going overboard on 
The gross tonnage of cork- 
screws, cans, bottles, ice buckets, tongs, 
racks and picks can present a formidable 
se twixt the gent who's 
duty as bartender and his 
wares. To avoid this kind of overstock- 
ing, limit, first of all, the variety of 
drinks you're offering. If liquor is called 
for in a food recipe, use the same liquor 
for bar purposes. Try to carry no more 
bottles and glassware than fit into a 
mounted bar rack, Drinking ware with 


obstacle coi 


drawn the 


thermal insulation conserves ice and is 
unbreakable. 

ppily, shipboard menus have Jong 
since jettisoned bully beef and baked 
beans as seagoing staples, Now, the regu 
lar weekend hegira down to the sea in 
ships is just about equally divided be- 
tween the sexes. And when vou 
Mo your cahi 
dogwatch, you no longer make your 
pitch with a chunk of salt beef garnished 
with hardtack. Not that she's likely to 
expect a pomegranate soufflé à l'Oricn- 
tale on s saturated with kirsch. 
She will be buoyed up. however. with 
the casy, informal fare which follows. 


CRAE MEAT HASH BROWNED 
(Serves [our) 

1 Ib, fresh о 

% packa 


nned crib meat 
ge (110 ozs.) prepared hashed 


brown potatoes 
Onion salt, pepper 
Juice of 14 lemon 

2 tablespoons salad oil 
3 tablespoons butter 


remove any pieces of shell or crti 
Boil potatoes, ections 
package. Dr 


on 
and cool. Combine crab 


meat and potatoes. Add onion salt and 
pepper to taste and lemon juice. Heat 
in a large skillet. Two 

illes may be used if necessary. Add 


crab-me һ 
Frequently, until mixture is hot. Move 
mixture to one side of pan, and shape 
into a 1 omelet. Со 
tinue to without stirring until 
bottom is deep golden brown. Tur 
onto platter. brown side up. Poach от 
Try eggs and place atop crab meat. Serve 
with bottled sauce diable. 


Craus кошти sn 
(Serves four) 


(If fresh chowder clams are procura- 
ble, use 2 dozen in place of cl: 
below. ub clams well. St 
with about a pint of water. 
1% cups of the result 
for the sauce.) 

2 1114-07. jars clams i 
д cup butter 
4 cup flour 


am open 
You'll need 
it cl broth 


juice 


Ya cup heavy crea 
15 cup milk 
1 


tablespoon onion juice 
% cup dry white wine 


Salt, pepper, monosod 
Let butter 


m шап 
id at room temperature 


until soft enough to spread easily, then 
mix with llour into a smooth paste. 
clams, reserving juice. Cut clams 

Pour clam juice, cream, 

juice into saucepan. 


Slowly bring to a boil. Add butter mix- 
ture slowly, stir until sauce is thick 
and smooth, Add wine, clams and р: 
ley. Simmer five minutes. Add 


pepper and monosodium glutamate to 
taste. 


SEA DASS SAUTÉ WITH TOMATOES 
(Serves four) 


2 24b. sea bass, cleaned and scaled 
can tomatocs 

tomato paste 

spoon onion salt 

aspoon garlic salt 

3 tablespoons brandy or bourbon 
3 tablespoons butter 

2 tablespoons parsley flakes 

Salt. pepper, рар 


lour 

Salad oil 

Chop tomatoes coarsely, reserving 
their juice. In a saucepan combine 


tomatoes, tomato juice. tomato paste, 
onion salt, garlic salt. brandy, butter 
and sley flakes. Simmer 10 minutes. 
Cut off head and tail of each sea 
bass. Cut fish crosswise into п. slices. 
Sprinkle generously with salt, pepper 
and paprika, then dip in flour. Heat y 
in. salad oil in saucepan or skillet. 
Sauté fish until brown on both sides. 
Place fish on a large platter or serving 
plates, removing carefully from pan to 
avoid breaking slices. Pour sauce on top 
of fish. 


BEEF IN MUSTARD SAUCE. 
(Serves four) 
2 Ibs. top sirloin of beef 
8 tablespoons salad oil 
3 tablespoons flour 
1 
2 


tablespoon. beef extract 
teaspoons onion juice 
poon bouquet garni 
Salt, pepper 

3 tablespoons Dijon mustard 

14 cup heavy cream 

Cut beef, Chinese style, into thin 
slices about 14 in. thick and 1 in. 
square. Heat oil in a heavy saucepan, 
Sauté meat until brown, stirring fre- 
quently. Stir in flour, mixing well. Add 
3 cups water, beef exuact, onion ju 


bouquet gami, | teaspoon salt and 4 
teaspoon pepper. Simmer slowly, stirring 
occasionally, until beef is tender — about. 
one hour. Mix mustard and cream to a 
smooth paste. Pour into sauce. Serve 
with buttered noodles or home-fricd 
potatoes. 


CALVES’ LIVER SAUTE, ONION FRITTERS 
(Serves four) 


14 Ibs. calves 
Salad oil 

114 cups diced onion 

Flour 

1 tablespoon baking powder 
Salt, pepper 

2 eggs, well beaten 

y4 cup milk 

1 tablespoon parsley flakes 


1 cup butter 
Juice of 15 lemon 
Pour 3 tablespoons oil into saucepan. 

Add onion and sauté until just barely 

Set 


tender, not brown. aside. Sift to- 
gether 1% cups flo ng powder 
and 14 teaspoon salt. Pour eggs and 
milk into mixing bowl Add onion, 
parsley flakes and sifted dry ingredients. 
Stir only until a lumpy batter is formed. 
It should not be smooth. Heat V 
oil in skillet until it show: 
smoke. Drop batter by large spoonfuls 
into skillet. Brown fritters оп both 
sides. Sprinkle liver with salt and pepper. 
Dip in flour, patting off excess. Heat 
14 in. oil in skillet and sauté liver two 
to three minutes on each side. Avoid 
overcooking. After liver is removed from 
skillet, add butter and lemon juice to 
skillet. Heat butter until it sizzles. Pour 
over liver on serving plates or platter. 
Line up fritters alongside 


SAUSAGE AND RICE PILAF 
(Serves four) 


1 cup long-grain rice 
2 tablespoons butter 
1 small onion, minced fine 


ce celery, minced fine 


2 envelopes instant chicken broth 

2 &oz cans brown-and-serve sausages 

1014-02. can mushrooms in gravy 

2 tablespoons dry sherry 

Salt, pepper 

Melt butter in a deep heavy saucepan. 
Sauté onion and celery until tender but 
not brown. Add 2⁄4 cups water, instant 
broth, 1% teaspoon salt and rice. Stir 
well. Reduce flame as low as possible 
and cook, covered, without stirring. 
until rice is tender — about 20 
Place sausages in pan and 
brown. Remove sausages [rom pan. Pour 
mushrooms in gravy into the same pan 
and add sherry. Bring to a boil. Sea 
to taste. Spoon rice into a shallow cas- 
serole or platter. Place sausages оп top 
of rice. Pass gravy separately. 


CURRIED LOBSTER SALAD 
(Serves two) 


2 boiled lobsters 114 Ibs. each 
2 hard-boiled eggs 
1 cup Chinese cabbage 
% cup mayonnaise 
1 tablespoon heavy sweet cream or 
sour cream 
16 teaspoon curry powder 
Dash garlic powder 
Salt, pepper 
4 radishes 
2 scallions 
Lettuce 1 s 
Remove meat from lobster. Cut into 
Cut 
Chinese to thin julienne 
strips. In a mixing bowl combine mayon- 
naise, cream, curry powder and garlic 
powder. Mix well. Add lobster, eggs and. 
Chinese cabbage. Toss well, Add salt 
and pepper to taste. Cut radishes and 
scallions into thin slices. Line a salad 
bowl or bowls with lettuce leaves. Pile 
lobster salad on top. Sprinkle wi 
slices of radishes and scallions. 
Bon appétit and bon voyage! 


Yin. cubes. Chop eggs coarsely 
cabbage 


PLAYBOY 


RIGHT MAN 


lon't you, Lucey? Take work 


generally, 
home .. 

It was truc, Almost every evening Guy 
took home an attaché сазе full of fig- 
ures, trends, projections. 

“I guess you could call me 
Mr. McQuinn. I want to get 
provide well for my family. And since 
the best y to do it is 
est. But I don't 


The four men nodded, exchanged 
glances. Dr. Burgundy made a note on 
a pocket pad, and said, "Mr. Lucey, 
what are your ambitions here at Greater 
United? Do you want to be president 
of the compa Or wl D 

Gay hesi 
know I'm not really bril 
I'd never be president. М 
of Market Research. 1 ji 
thought about it very much." 

Dr. Burgundy turned to the others. 
"What we thought. Drive factor almost 
exactly median.” 

Mr. Simpson spoke. “Would you con- 
sider yourself loyal to Greater United?” 

“Why, yes sir. I'm loyal. I think its a 
fine compan 

Again the m 
nodded. 

Mr. Millikin said to Di 

What do you think, 

"Just one more question." Dr. Bur 
gundy with a peculiar 
intentness. y record in your 
nily of men 
slowly, very pre 
mother's or your father’s side, 
опе ever be mental institution. or 
been lor depression or 


haven't 


exchanged glances and 


of uneasiness. "Men- 
о one moved or spoke. 
MI my folks were — just nor- 
1 small-town folks, that's all.” 


а 


(continued from page 80) 


“I see," said Dr. Burgundy, “I sce.” 
What do you thir 
Millikin. 

Dr. Burgundy rose. "I think Mr. Lucey 
is our man, The tests indicate it, and as 
far as I'm concerned, our little talk here 
wraps it up 

‘The others stood. 

Dr. Burgundy strode across the room. 
With astonishing swiftness, he drew a 
coat pocket 
and in a continuous motion before Guy 
could move he swung it in an е 
short sideward arc, to a point on Guy's 
head just above the left саг. Guy felt a 
hard crack of pain, the room swung 
ly around him, and then blac 
When woke, he was ly 


versation. He opened his eyes, and saw 
Mr. Millikin, Mr. Simpson, Mr. Mc- 
Quinn and Dr. Burgundy standing by 
the window. 

He tried to move, but he seemed to 
be paralyzed. Only his head would re- 
spond t effort that 
he could in inch or so from the 
pillow on which it rested. 
ied to speak. It was a long. 


it was with gr 


ied from the window. 
said Mr. М 
"Can you hear us, Luce: 
Burgundy 
"v 
“You've been given am injection,” 
said Dr. Burgundy. "A simple curare 
derivative. You're paralyzed, partially, 
but if you wy you Ik a little.” 
The men sat down. Mr. McQui 
looked at his watch. "Let's get on with 
ic. I have a meeting with the West Coast 
Zone M 


tui 


his throat. 


“Try not to make a fool of yourself." 


“Lucey, 
have been chose 
special 


you may have gathered, you 
for this rather — ah — 


ı this from the ро 
i picture?” 
inn was tamping tobacco into a 
pipe. "Certainly, Sam." He struck a 
match. “The casiest way to say it, Lucey,” 
puff, puff, ". .. is that from time to time 
pull, pull, puff, it becomes 
necessary that . . ." he shook out the 
ch deliberately, ". . . a man die for 
cater United Foods." He suc 
pipe. "Die for Greater United 
he And you're the 


чу felt his stomach slip and slide 
inside him. He strained to speak. 
"What te 

‘Oh, it’s nothing personal, Lucey. 
And we don't like to do it, for heaven's 
sake.” 

"Of course not, Guy" interrupted 
Simpson, with the look of an carnest 
fifth-grade teacher on his face. “But 
with management comes responsibility, 
you know. And we wouldn't be doing 
our jobs if we shirked ours." 

“That's right," said McQuinn. “That's 
the whole point, you sec. You have been 
chosen to dic — as it happens, your death 
will appear to be a su 
that others might live. Li 
cessfully and happily for G: 
to be specific.” 

Guy gasped again. “. . . why? 

"Good question, Lucey,” sai 
kin briskly, rom time to time, as you 
must know, it’s necessary for 
ment to motivate our men in various 
ways. Sales contests, production quotas, 
you're familiar with all that. We ty to 
keep you fellas pushing good 
But our studies now show that too mar 
of you—especially you youngsters — 
are working foo hard. Su g at the 
leash a little, carrying the worries of the 
world on your shoulders, so to speak.” 

"And it wouldn't do," said McQuinn, 


"for us to ask our men mot to push. 
ood 


st wouldn't be 
ıl? You got a 


would it? That j 
management. С 
ad 


“There is also 
Lucey. The 
and status 


Dr. Burgundy nodded. 
the future to consider, 
company men of your ag 
grouping : 

п a 
agerial level on up. It is important that 
they reach those positions mentally and 
physically intact — without ulcers, with- 
out symptoms of chronic 
short, with healthy, well- 

"Right" said Millikin. 

becomes necessary, we simply make it 


appear that overwork has got in its 
licks. Let's sce — the last two were simu- 


lated heart attacks, weren't they, Jim?" 
McQu nodded, puffing. “But once a 
year or so, a suicide really makes the 
men stop and think, slows them down 


Actually increases productivity, strange- 


ly enough,” he chuckled. 
“a. but why me... 2" Guy whi 
pered. 


“The tests, Lucey. They indicated 
that you'd never be a really top dog 
around here. You'd be just middle or 
upper-middle management. Lots of young 
sprouts like you around, you just hap- 
pened to be the most average of all.” 

Simpson smiled his warm salesma 
'One thing, Cuy, don't feel hurt 
bout this. It's happened before and 
it'll happen again. We have to keep our 
men working hard — but not foo hard. 
It's part of the free enterprise system, 
really part of the American Way.” 

Millikin said, “And your major medi- 
cal, group insurance, pension fund — 
everything's in order. Your Гатйу be 
fine. 

McQuinn cleared his throat, looked at 
his watch. “Gentlemen, my meeting . . ." 

They stood, and Millikin said. 
“Thanks, Lucey. | can't say ‘luck,’ I 
guess, but ‘chin up," fella, anyway.” 

And except for Dr. Burgundy they 
were gone, closing the door softly be- 
hind them. 

Guy thrashed in panic. But his arms 
and legs only quivered. 

“All traces of the injection will be 
gone in a few minutes," said Dr. Bur- 
over 


He raised one of the large windows, 
and Guy felt the outside heat billow in 
through the cool air-conditioned room. 
Then Dr. Burgundy lifted Guy casily, 
mp in his arms, walked to the window, 
and threw him out 

As Guy went out the window, and 
down, he caught a glimpse of the de- 
serted inside courtyard 17 floors below, 


saw fractionally two ti 


against the building wall, closed 
cyes, felt the breathtaking rush of air. 
And then he hed onto the cemen 

That evening, Herman, Paige and 
Collyer sat in silence in the club car, 
portraits of stunned disbelief, From 
time to time, one would shake his head, 
ip from a glass of beer. 

Finally, Paige spoke. “I don't under- 
stand I just don 
“Guy was such a level-headed fellow, 

said Collyer. 

Herman looked at the other two. "But 
don't forget. He was pushing himscll. 
Iha's right. He'd just made Scale 
Bu. 


nd was pressing damn hard for 
something even bette 

Paige drained the beer from his glass 
and set it down hard. 

“The hell h it. All the money in 
the world worth that." 

“We should take it easier," said Col- 
lyer. "We should all take it a little 


easier.” 
a 


SENSE OF VALUES 


(continued from page 72) 


bility to others and realizes that he can 
only make — and justify — his profits if 
he succeeds in accomplishing these aims. 

I have been successful — and fortunate 
my business career. The money 
value of my holdings in the companies 
I own or control has been estimated in 
the hundreds of millions of dollars. But. 
this is a paper fortune and to me it i 
still a means and not an end. Only an 
infinitesimal part of my fortune is held 
by me in cash. My wealth is represented 
by machinery, oil wells, pipelines, tank- 
ers, refineries, factory and office build- 
ings—by all the myriad assets of my 
companies. And those companies arc 
continuing to produce goods and per 
form services — and to grow and expand. 
Thus, my wealth is continuing to per- 
form useful, creative work, These are 
the worthwhile ends to which my wealth 
is a means, and which give money its 
real value. 

I do not measure my success in terms 
of dollars and cents. I measure it in 
terms of the jobs and the productivity 
my labors and my wealth — invested and 
ted as capital in my companies — 
le possible. I doubt very seri- 
ously if 1 could have reached anywhere 
near the level of success that I have 
reached if I'd employed any other yard- 
sticks to gauge my progress during my 
career. 

Ive found that, to establish his iden- 
tity, to feel chat he is а fully participat- 
ing member of society, an individual 
must have purpose and feel that what 
he does has some enduring value well 
beyond the limits of his own personal 
interests. In. order to achieve any con- 


have m 


tentment in life, he must derive genuine 
ап equally genuine 


satisfaction. and 


These are considerations 
important as the size of the income he 
receives from his job, profession or 
business. 

By no means am 1 suggesting that a 
vow of poverty — or anything even re- 
motely approaching it— will provide an 
individual with shortcut to ecstatic 
bliss. There is very little room for the 
wandering mendicant and his beg 
bowl in our civilization. Human beings 
e progressed well bevond the stage 
where they can be satisfied with their 
lot while living on a diet of black bread 
and boiled cabbage. They must have 
decent living standards — all the necessi- 
ties and many of the luxuries of life — 
if they are to be even moderately con- 
tent. [n order to have these things, they 
must earn money. 

"This does not, however, change the 
fact that there are many ways of gauging 
lues besides placing them on a dol- 
lars-and-cents sale. A badly written, 
banal contemporary novel may sell for 


five dollars a copy, while a great literary 
classic may be purchased in paperback 
edition for 50 cents. Certainly the latter 
has infinitely greater real value than the 
former, regardless of the tremendous 
disparity in their prices. By the same 
token, there are ny Kinds of success 
other than purely financial success. 1 
hold that an individual's standing i 
society should be judged by criteria 
other than merely his income, accumu- 
lated monetary wealth or the number 
and money values of his material posses- 
ions, 
Past and present, there are uncounted 
examples of individuals who made price- 
less contributions to ci but 
who realized little or no mone 
wards from what they did. Innume 
great philosophers, scientists, artists а 
musicians were poor men all their lives. 
Mozart, Beethoven, Modiglia 
Gauguin — among others of comparable 
stature — died poverty-stricken. No one 
on carth could possibly estimate the 
value of the contributions made to man- 


kind by such men as Dr. Albert 
Schweizer or Ше late Dr. "Thomas 
Dooley; yet, it's highly doubtful if 


cither of them ever enjoyed a personal 
income as large as that earned by the 
average departmentstore buyer. 

The architect who designs a breath- 
takingly beautiful building is often а 
poor man compared to the tenants who 
will occupy it. The engincer who builds 
а dam may well earn from his 
labors than the landowner whose acres 
are irrigated by water from the dam. 
The architect and engineer have cre- 
ated and built: their success no less 
great because they did not carn fortunes 
from their work. 

Also largely overlooked in this age of 
treadmill scrambling for money and 
status is the fact that there are many 
forms of wealth other than financial 
wealth. One of the most genuinely con- 
tented men I've ever known was my 
cousin, Hal Seymour. Hal and I grew 
up together; we were always close 
friends and for long periods we were 
constant companions. Hal c. very 
itle for money. Content to earn 
enough for his own needs, he good-na- 
turedly turned down every opportunity 
1 offered him for earning more. Work- 
ing here and there — he was a topflight 
oil driller, photographer, miner, а mas- 
ter of many trades — he never had much 
money. But he managed to satisfy his 
desires to go many places and do many 
things — and he always enjoyed himself 
thoroughly with the armies of friends he 
made wherever he went. His aim in life 
was always to do whatever he attempted 
well. He realized this aim; he always 
gave more than he took. 

Hal considered himself to be very 
wealthy in personal freedom. He was al- 
ways able to do the things he wanted to 


less 


PLAYBOY 


100 fund: 


Чо, and always had the time in which 
10 do them. He seldom missed а chance 
to remind me that, in these regards, 1 
ch poorer than he. Before his 
th a few yes го, he frequently 
wrote me letters which opened with the 
wryly humorous but meaningful. salut; 
tion: “To the Richest Man in the 
World from the Wealthiest . . ," 
ru to admit that 1 envied Hal 
his abundance of time — which is one 
of the forms of wealth that people tend 
to disregard these days. Rich as 1 may 
be пот a material standpoint, I've long 
felt that I'm very poor, indeed, in time 
For decades, my business affairs have 
made extremely heavy inroads on my 
time, leaving me very little 1 could use 
I pleased. There are books that I have 
wanted to read — апа books I have 
wanted to write. Ive always yearned to 
travel to remote parts of the globe 
which I've never seen; one of my great 
est unfulfilled ambitions has been to go 
long, leisurely safari in Africa 
Money has not been a bar to the 
realization of these desires; olar as 
money is concerned, 1 could have easily 
afforded to do апу of these things for 
many years. The blunt and simple truth 
that Гуе never been able to do them 
because | could never afford the tim: 
les paradoxical but true that the so- 
called captains of industry frequently 
have less time for indulging their per- 
sonal desires than their rearrank pri 
vates. This applies to little things as 
well as big one 
It is not my intent to imply that 1 am 
in any way dissatisfied with my lot in 
life. Indeed, 1 would be more than 
grateful for the good fortune and ad- 
vantages I've enjoyed if 1 were anything 
less than happy. Moreover, 1 am very 
gratified that I have managed to accom- 
plish most of the goals I set for myself 
when Tb 
The point I 
cach individual has to establish his own 
standards of values, and that these are 
largely subjective. They are based on 
what the individual considers most. im- 
portant to him and what he is willing 
to give for a certain thing or in order 
to achieve a c in ай 
Old—but true — the 
that you ything 
you can’t get something for noth: 
individual always has to give — or 
up — something in order to have or get 
something else. Whether he’s willing to 
make the exchange or not is entirely up 
to him and his own sense of valu 
Acknowledging all this, 1 nevertheless 
believe that there are certtin values 
h, if not absolute in the strict sense 
of the word, а d can be 
said to be generally valid. I never cease 
to be amazed by the casu 
callous which 
ments of our population ignore these 
mental valucs. 


sa 


on à 


c is that 


trying to x 


bromides 


ave ev 


w 
surely basic 


manner ii 


It is estimated that more than 120,000 
Americans take their own lives each 
- This fig (dudes cases. which 
ollicially recorded as suicides and the 
cases of those who do away with them 
selves, but whose deaths, for one reason 
or another, are not recorded officially as. 
such. A significant portion ol these 
120,000 annual tragedies are classed as 
economic suicides. 
According to Dr. Thomas P. Malone, 
ad of the Atlanta, Georgia, Psychiatric 

ic and ап acknowledged authority 
on the macabre subject: "At least 30 to 
10 percent of so-called economic suicides 
occur when a man is successful, not 
when he is failing. When a man has 
achieved the peak of success, often he 
has nothing left to scramble tor.” 

I'm no psychiatrist, but it seems to me 
that anyone who takes his own life be- 
cause he has achieved success and has 

nothing left to scramble for" 
y worthwhile motives to scr 
n the first place. The goals he 
sought — and. achieved — were meaning- 
les. When he realized this he 
ved that what he had actually 
achieved was not success but pathetic 
failure. 

In а report which appeared recently 
in the Journal of the American Medical 
Association, Drs. Richard E. and Kath- 
crine К. Gordon revealed the results of 
an intensive study they made of families 
living in a typical contemporary status- 


~ 


for 


seekers’ suburban community. They 
determined that the diseases which stem 
primarily from emotional stresses — 
notably ulcers, coronary thrombosis, 
hypertension and hypertensive cardio- 


vascular disease — were markedly more 
prevalent there than in communities in 
which status seeking was not such a 
dominant social factor. Anyone who has 
ncountered specimens ol the ulce 
idden, ranquilizer-devouring and sta- 
tussecking Organization Man type and 
their nervously shrill-voiced, perpetu- 
ally apprehensive wives will hardly be 
surprised by this revelation. 

1, for one, am unable to see that the 
achievement of any degree of social sta- 
tus is worth the price of a man’s life or 
the destruction of his or his family's 
health. Assuredly, there is something 
very wrong basically when human be- 
ings are willing to sell their lives and 
their health so cheaply. 

Nor am I able to sce that money or 
the dubious benefits conferred by the 
attainment of what passes for status are 
worth the price of one's individuality and 
personal integrity. 1 am 
It is becor 


apparent that its no longer fashionable 
to pay much heed to these considera- 
tions. The swept aside 


in the рете rush to c to 
what is regarded as the majority view — 
which regards the accumulation of 
money and material things and the 


gaining of status as tlie approved 
and places no ceiling on the price which 

n be paid for achiev 
it one of the 
edies of our civilization that people have 
come virtually mandatory 
to imitate in order to win the social 
acceptance of their fellows. The end 
result of this сап only be to reduce even 
the most brilliant individuals to a 
sterile common. denomina 

"Toady and lickspittle 
The average man would probably be 
inclined to use his fists on anyone who 
- Yet, countless men 
themselves to such absurd 
devices as wearing bow ties because their 
employers wear them, cutting their hair 
the way their superiors do, or buying 
their homes where the other executives 
buy theirs. They ape and echo the ideas, 
views and actions of those they seck to 


m 


I consider jor vag- 


аму words. 


impress, proving nothing but that they 
are servile toadies. Imitation may be the 
most sincere form of flattery — but it is 


nd flattery is nothing more 
а pat on the head from someone 
who knows he deserves a kick in the 
behind. 

1 once obtained control of a company 
and was immediately and far hom 
favorably — impressed by the Гам 
attitude of the majority of the firm's 
executives. Most were obsequious yes 
men feverishly trying to please the new 
boss so that they could further their 
own narrow ambitions. Wanting to sec 


just how far they were willing to go, 1 


called a special management meeting. At 
the meeting, 1 proposed a wholly im- 
practical and ruinous scheme which, if 
implemented, would have quickly bank- 
rupted the firm. 

OI the nine executives present, six 
instantly expressed their approval of 
my "plans." Three of these men went 


to the extreme of modestly hinting that 


they'd been 
line; 


“thinking along similar 
— something 1 could well believe 
from having studied the firm's profit- 
and-loss 


state! 


ents. Two very junior 
executives remained glumly and disap- 
provingly silent. Only one man in the 
group had the temerity to stand up and 
point out the flaws in my proposal. 

Needless to say, the company soon 
had some new faces in its executive 
ollices. ts remained: 
all sociated with my compa- 
nies ight add, are now in the 


The three disside: 


re still 
ad, 1 


upper income brackets 
It has always been my contention that 
an individual who can be relied upon 


to be himself and to be honest unto 
himself can be relied upon in every 
other way. He places value— not a 
price — on himself and his principles. 
And that, in the final analysis, is the 
measure of anyone's sense ol values — 


and of the true worth of any man., 


ROGER HAYDOCK 


(continued from page 40) 
geting ol the car, at a parking 
space, he tapped his wife on the shou 
der. “The workers are about to revolt. 
Revolution’s in the air; you can smell 
it.” "Oh hush up. and let me enjoy it." 


out the 


she said. Early, as Haydock s was, 
out of some mysterious dread of the 
moment (customarily he sat an hour in 


rooms, before boarding trains), 
Iked on slowly, past vast gray 
© buildings, past outdoor sets, 
d rattle of musketry 
ad Indian yelps, and bodies stacked 
like sawlogs, past, at last, three soar 
monoliths, uninscribed, loftily 
their secrets. “Hold 
said Haydock, steppi 
to see who's buried 
oil wells.” Fisenfeld explained 
They struck oil, and boarded 
icks to make them look 
better.” With a simulation of faintness, 
Haydock leaned back against the shalt: 
then he said, "You arent serious, of 
course. What vou mean is. the set de- 
ners stuck these up and claimed they 
n with the gen 
eral atmosphere.” "They're real." replied 
Eisenfeld, waiting. Haydock pressed his 
е against the boards, shaken a little at 
this awesome preservation of the unities. 
certain for a moment that he could neve 
again use with conviction the old con- 
tempruous, identifying words like sham, 
їс, ke be 
ve. He was able to hear, deep inside, 
the steady pulsations as the punctured 
earth bled black juice, fighting olf defi- 
cits, beating back the bankers, compe 
with ТҮ. 
It would be dificult to say what Hay 


on a 


ove 


1 want here 
Ihey'r 
patiently 


up the de 


housed oil wells, to ti 


isque magie lantern, 


dock expected his producer to resemble 


The truth is that he had no definite pic- 
ture in mind. but confusedly hoped that 
he might be wearing а blazer, with мк. 
unoxsTEIN. stenciled on the back. (This 
would imply. of course, а canvas ch: 
in the same genre, on the set, and, along. 
side, a kind of human echo with a 
vocabulary of "Yes") His 
knowledge of him was limited to a few 
f had made, some of them good, 
one or two brilliant, It was a snobbish 
source of pride to Haydock that he had 
never quite probed the anatomy of 

producer's duties, never determined 
where his responsibility began and 
ended, the outer limits of his sphere of 
influence. What he was not prepared for, 
and it shocked n unbombastic 
» of contemplative mie 


consisting 


п. was, 


gentlen: 1 
wellcut stripeless dark suit and seated 
in an ollice whose Fabrics and painting 
whose workaday Swedish desk, whose 
family pictures and small mementos of 
places seen and cherished, implied a 
taste far beyond the legend, Victimized 
he was by the novels and stories, he 
had expected (he realized now with un 


frivolous accuracy) someth 
foxy, a shade less than respec 
had looked lor a man who by the ques- 
tionable genius of opportunism had sur- 
vived the storm winds of 
deceit and caprice, nepotism, publ 
fidelity, chang te. topical surpris 
depressions and recessions, the good pic 
tures dar failed to catch on, the bad 
ones that made а bow olfice showing, op- 
tions, temperament, disloyalty, attack 
d counterattack — the long, dreary 
catalog of hurts and failures. inevitable 
when the spectrum of positive arts is 
fused into a single, unconvinced indus- 
uy. He felt wicked. ‘This was not the 
careless mogul of the long-distance tele- 
phone, and he was suddenly 
the moonstruck s 
sounding declarations of intent, had been 
served up. like unwanted hors d'oeuvres. 
because they were expected by a new 
diner in this well-advertised café. H 
dock saw with chagrin that it was he 
himself who had been examined and 
Iound vulnerable, As the pricked bubble 
of his ego subsided, leaving the profes- 
sional whom the studios had patiently 
awaited, he became involved in his book 
as a movie for the first time. 

They chatted at length. Bronstein 
comments on the novel proved that he 
had read it with discernment. He re- 
ferred affectionately to favorite chapters, 
to scenes, to dialog, even to isolated 
words and phrases. that Haydock, too. 
now felt were the truest marks of his 
creation. But there was no embarrass: 
ment of lavishuess here, nothing “Holly 
Bronstei vich 
ne. Haydock Lin 
tion while the produce 
technical problems of bring 
screen a long book, astir with a 
md subplot. 1 


se 
ble. 


latives, 


but 
d. 


the 
the 
ity, swollen with plot 


sions must be made. bridges devised by 
screenwriters that would span certain 
areas while retaining the book's basic 


tone, new arcas constructed (all still 


in the spirit), characterizations subtly 


altered — this one strengthened, that 
played down — to attract the stars. who 
1 the end might mean a golden shower 


or disaster at the box office, There was 
а great deal more. The first, the most 
Important task was, of course, the need 
to shape this uncinematic work into 
iiec acts. Haydock was obliged to agree 
that it could scarcely be a wavelog, а 
succession of scenes, no mauer how lively 
and entertain portance 
the protraction of the i 
with its middle 
ıd climax wrought in timely per- 
s by ardent and expert 
But the supreme task would be 
to take what was good about the book 
and make it beter. Haydock sat up, 
alerted by the view halloo. He could 
hear the distant baying of hounds. This 
wats me wail down which 


was of dram: 


curve 
end, a 
fection 
lover 


in; 


a fami 


“For heaven's sake, stop, Mr. 
Finchley! All the guy wants is 
to give you the can of Mac's No. 
13 radiator rust inhibitor you 
left back at the service station.” 


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Cincinnati 26, Ohio 


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PLAYBOY 


102 


as the quarry, had bounded in anger 
for nearly 20 years. How many times, he 
wondered sadly, from how many strivers 
who had tried and failed to become 
wr s, had he defended a labored-over, 
sweated-over, constructed-in-agony prod- 
uct? On their record, what inexplicable 
arrogance could persuade them of their 
superior knowledge? They were, he felt, 
adjudging their betters by the critical 


standards that had caused their own 


collapse, and only by ng them off, 
at great cost to his serenity, had he 
managed to stay professionally alive. So 
acute was his bitterness on the subject 
that, often, he had mulishly rejected 
suggestions that would patently have 
been to his benefit. Gently (for he wished 
to avoid argument) he expounded to 
Bronstein, to Eisenfeld and to his wife, 
his theory that the good movies, the 
real winners, had been those which had 
simply followed the book. He cited David 
Copperficld and Gone with the Wind, 
spinning off at random examples which, 
though not arty, or even self-consciously 
artistic (therefore unsuspect to а moncy 
man) were yet critically sound and had 
erry tunes in the till. “In both 
cases,” nobody was in- 
spired to write a new book. They de- 
cided that the 1 was good enough 
to film. Iv was a matter of story and 
cast — 

"Let's go have lunch at the commis- 
- I think Mrs. Haydock might enjoy 
it" said Bronstein with genuine Old 
World courtesy. 

After a wholesome meal at which the 
producer discoursed with erudition on 
a variety of subjects — medicine, law, 
bowling, psychiatry, horticulture, Las 
Vegas. primitive religions — Haydock and 
his group were turned over to a studio 
guide, who led them on a tour of 
the sets. For anyone in search of 
glamor (and despite his scofüng talk, 
Haydock was a secret , an addict, 
hooked since childhood) the experience 
was curiously baffling. In these halls, or 
others like them, trod the ghosts of 
Garbo and Barrymore, of Theodore 
Roberts, of W. C. Fields and Charlie 
Chaplin, Gilbert, Wallace Reid, 
Lon Chaney, Dolores Costello, Jean 
Harlow, Douglas Fairbanks, “Freckles” 
Barry — the gorgeous, unpredictable sym- 
bols, living and dead (but gone from 
these painfully empty halls) who had 
set the rhythm of an age. Virtuosi or 
ams, Haydock thought, they possessed 
ks of id 
tity, and they would be cherished. 
route to the set of one filmin-the- 
wor an ode to slum clearance, Ha 
dock recognized a popular idol of the 
moment, Rance (“Sweat-sox") McGee, а 
skinny, tousled-haired youth, some’ 
the worse for acne, in frayed blue je: 
and a saucy, stained sweater, Wrench 
hand, he was seated on the ground 
beside а Cooper Monaco, changing a 
piston rod, or draining the oil, or maybe 


n 


only tightening a nut. “I know a garage 
where that kid might get a job, if hed 
clean up a bit,” said Haydock in a nor 
mally loud tone, but wile shushed 
him indignantly. On another set, there 
was being waged what was informally 
described by the crews as “the battle of 
the bosoms.” Co-starred, after an inspi 
rational idea by an obscure associate pro- 
ducer, José Serpesil (whose superior 
promptly stole most of the credit), were 
à bovine Danish matron whose dramatic 
gifts, which measured out at 44-28-39, 
were presently without peer in the film 
world, and an Italian actress whose di- 
mensions (4014-28-40) — nothing to be 
ashamed of, but certainly an inch or two 
short of genius — had placed her abreast 
of the competition so to speak, assisted 
by a peculiar, rotary, heaving motion 
with which she managed her wares under 
stress. She was а youngster yet, so Hay- 
dock had recently read in а column by 
Lolly Parsons (45-3548), and gave every 
promise of fatting up to aggressive con- 
tention. As he gratuitously established 
Miss Parsons’ contours, he wondered if 
this new Bertillon system would be car- 
ried on to its idiot's extreme, in the style 
of other American hysteria, He toyed 
with headlines in the Times: PRINCESS 
MARGARET (39-22-36) ARRIVES FOR WHITE 
HOUSE VISIT; and SENATOR =мітн (36-2688) 
DEMURS AT GENERAL RANK FOR ACTOR. 
Haydock lagged behind to listen, or 
watch, hoping to see the noted mam- 
maries in full swing, but it was a scene 
in which both stars were covered, one 
having turned nun, after a carcer of 
matchless carnality, and the Italian being 
in coy process of announcing to her 
lover, a car thief, that she was about to 
have a baby. Both of these repeated 
cinema travesties of actions essentially 
private had embarrassed Haydock for 
years; besides, neither actress could speak 
recognizable English, so he turned awa 

Before they broke off the visit, thei 
escort steered them- furtively, in the 
style of a runner for a peep show in 
Montmartre —to а set was 
being enacted a drama of beatnik life 
in the Village. Before the camera were 
several creatures in costumes unspeakably 
offensive ~a sissified youth, wi 
compressed into tight black corduroys, a 
high yellow vest and a Norfolk јаске 
nother in а derby 
striped sweat 
a third in filthy ducks, the right leg tor 
off at the kne sprinkling of bar 


whereon 


tose on the floor of wha 
of singular decor, with two hidcous 
abstractions, one in a triangular frame, 
ting morc representational 
г, well-composed view of a 
з choking a baby — and a rough- 
sculpture of a Madonna with thr 
sts. To the erratic accompaniment 
of a drum roll, a pallid, hollow-cheeked 
girl stood listlessly reciting an unrhymed 


poem in which she stated that she hoped 
to murder her mother. Haydock moved 
up, fascinated; then he found himself 
beside the producer, a man he knew 
slightly, presumably the guiding spirit 
behind two brilliantly tasteful films of 
recent years. "It's hilarious" Haydock 
told him. “Good stuff. Do you allow 
them to run loose at night, or lock them. 


very, very import 
day. We've done a very amount of 
research." Horrified, Haydock saw that 
he was deadly serious. For a wild instant, 
he wondered if he could be drunk. Di 
ing away, mournfully uncertain whether 
after all it could be he himself who in 
the quick rush of years had missed the 
beat, he stood beside a boy and a girl, 
members of the cast, momentarily idle, 
who had reached some abstruse impasse 
in a romantic alliance. “Tony, liss-en,” 
she said, her slight body bent forward, 
both hands clawing the air, her pretty 
lower jaw outthrust and moving laterally, 
chewing the words. “Look, Tony, will you 
lissen? I mean, what I mean is, 1—1 
mean Tony will you LISS-EN? I mean 1 
don't understand you-oo-" In a sudden 
revulsion of fecling, Haydock briefly 
harbored the notion of removing to 
Tierra del Fuego until method acting 
had been stamped out and some public- 
spirited citizen had bombed the Actors 
Studio, One Brando could be a boon, he 
reflected; 5000 assumed the proportions 
of a Biblical plague. Desperately he 
looked about, hoping that there might 
merge from these mock-up cathedral 
shadows another Valentino, with greasy, 
patentleather hair, and an imperious 
cinema queen in the raucous tradition, 
raising hell with a director. He was fed 
up with the ordinary, tired of verisimil 
tude, surfeited with the dreary. His 
needs were simple; he wished to be enter- 
tainin kidded. In his dark seat in the 
theater, Haydock preferred to feel that 
great things were coming: he believed in 
the vampire's promise. 

In the following 24 hours, he and his 
wife were swept along the glittering 
Hollywood trail of cocktail party, lunch 
at Romanoff's and star-studded dinner. 
xhausted, and with no commitment for 
rly half the next day, they decided 


n 
to enjoy their hotel, which certainly was 


one of the world's finest, and have a 
midday snack in their suite. And it was 
here, returning upstairs from a break- 
fast of blad Inut waffles on the sun- 
drenched Patio Portofino, that they 
caught, and checked, their first delusion 
of grandeur. The door to another suite 
was open, as the maids tidied up, and 
Haydock stopped, netted. Not only w 
the wallpaper superior, but the suite 
itself looked out to the Alcazar Gardens, 
while the Haydocks' gave onto the boule- 


vard in front. “By God, for two pins I'd 193 


ask them to move us," he said. "After 
all, for 60 bucks a day...” "It is more at- 
tractive. There's no doubt about it,” re- 
plied his wile, musing. Then with a little 
shake of her head, she said, “Hold on; 
this is what we weren't going to do— 
remember Half-convinced, Haydock 
permitted himself to be led docilely 
home. A few minutes later, they agreed 
that it had been a close call. During the 
morning, she wallowed in the luxury of 
the hotel's beauty lor, getting the full 


PLAYBOY 


Haydock, aia n every joint, 
called in the house masseuse, a strapping 
Finn, who set to work with shrill yclps 
of joy. Buckling to her work, she gained 
a chancery toehold, then, when he 
kipped free, slipped easily into a Turk- 
ish leg-stretcher, meanwhile applying an 
illegal Indian rub to his left wrist. She 
was remarkably powerful, even for so 
Jarge a woman. Haydock's young years 
had been spent in a rough section of the 
nd; he had authentic knowledge of 
fighting, but he began to wonder, for 
one of the few times in his life, if he 
hadn't given away too much weight. 
First, not surprisingly, she announced 
that, in Hollywood, it was necessary to 
pound with unusual vigor; the residents 
were in terrible shape. ie ordeal con- 
tinued, to а running, heavily accented 
commentary on Hollywood and its peo- 
ple. Within 10 minutes she had divulged 
enough questionable material about five 
or six of the leading stars to have them 

сй for ап aggregate of at least 35 
In spite of his disillusionment, 
vdock breathed more freely. The heat, 
for the moment, had been taken off him- 
self. But when she flipped him over on 
his back, using a quarter nelson and 
crotch hoist, she seized his right leg and 
stomach with а crack 
ainly have been audible 
in the next suite. “I not a masseuse,” 
she said, with a false effort at a smile. 
This came as no news to Haydock, who 
decided that he had seen her in an all- 
lady mudathon, on television. “Physio- 
therapist, licensed. In Scandinavian 
contry, doctor have us setting all broken 
ed only fair, he thought, 
since they had. probably broken most of 
ux Still, һе fc reassured. It's safer to 
dvance knowledge of an enemy’ 
objective. He realized now that she was 
ing to break his leg and set it, and 
he steeled himself to thwart her. He was 
sull ahead. on points, when his wi 


wife re- 
turned from the beautician, and after 
the therapist left, carrying her bag with 
professional costume and, he imagined, 
splints, iodine, adrenaline and chloro- 
form, along with her laissez-passer from 
the Scandinavian doctors, and perhaps a 
letter of appreciation from the F 
Society of Morticians, they discussed the 
morning, his wife joyous with the usual 
frizzled permanent, himself because he 

104 was alive. 


nnish 


Riding the crest of high spirits, he 
thought the time propitious to put room. 
service to the test. In addition, he had a 
score to settle with the hotel for sending 
up a homicidal Amazon. "We've neg- 
lected this bunch," he said. “They may 
be hurt. What's more, I notice where 
they claim on the menu they can supply 
any food on earth. It seems a little 
broad." “АП right,” she said, "but don't 
act up." He sat lost in thought; then, 
ing himself, he rang room service 
and was answered by a male voice un- 
ably French. "My wife and I wish 
lunch sent up, id ydock. "Somc- 
thing simple but nourishing." He divined 
that the man's reply — "Continuez, Mon- 
sieur' — was a trifle di: nted. Even 
so, the French, the quick perception that 
he was dealing with a bilingual gourmet, 
struck a genial note. It was the correct 
mosphere in which to order lunch in 
this special hotel in this particular town. 
"My wife wants a rburger and а 
bottle of Gewurttramminer, 45. For 
myself, I'd like a Strasbourg goose stuffed 
with filet mignon. And, I think, a couple 
of bottles of Berliner. Weissbier, extra 
pale." As his wife took over the phone, 
by force, he could fancy that he heard 
the faint words, “At what temperature, 
Monsieur?” but it may only have been 
п echo of other orders, from other 
id his wife 
utionship might be 


v 


unusual in the voluptuous chambers of 
the Beverly Sunset. “My husband isn't 
himself this morning; he's overexcited. 


What we would like is Persian melon, 
two small, rare filet mignons, and as- 
paragus with Hollandaise, with maybe 
three bottles of Carlsberg.” Haydock 
was astonished. Since her 
ern school and college, and the hurried, 
frantic weekends at Princeton and New 
d settled into a kind of 
ет regimen. Heretofore, the out- 
side limit of her room-service imagination 
1 been chicken salad. While he had 
been skylarking, in a setting uniqu 
frolicsome, his wife was serious 
this uncharacteristic noontime f 
watched her as she replaced the receiver 
and walked, humming, over to inspect 
her And when the waiters came, 
silent, polite, deft, evoking their rad 
nt viands from silver vessels like а 
magician producing rabbits from a hat, 
he was staggered to see her stroll up and 
cut into a filet with a look of regal sus 
picion. “Something is wrong, Madame? 
“Well, they are a little overdone,” she 
said. “Then, Madame, we should by all 
means take them back." “That might be 
best,” she said absently, returning to the 
last dab at the permanent. 
Haydock leaned back on the sofa aghast. 
In the 13 ycars of their marriage she 
had never before stooped to any such 
ure of the manorial indifference 
to peasantry. Indeed, they had often de- 
plored this in two or three of their 


friends — well-known, self-made people 
whose beginnings had been humble and 
who, now, were rushing, hard to ple 
pressing slightly, trying to catch up with 
an imitation of something that scarcely 
existed. АП the same, he decided, she 
was right, you know. It made little sense 
to cat a filet mignon, especially here, 
that fell below the level of perfection. 

Besides, it might be tonic for the май: 
only way to keep those fellows down 
there on their toes. When at last they 
were served, he signed the check with 
mal glance and thought that, at 533, 
t seemed more than reasonable. 

That night, at Bronstein's. party, he 
tried to drink in moderation, wishi 
to discuss the script he had been given 
at the studio. But it was an uphill job. 
The function was not at all what he 
expected; the house itself made him un. 
casy. It was charming, exquisite even 
but it was not stagily so. It had an off- 
hand, comfortable look. There w no 
with its row of barstools (just 
like your favorite saloon's). The living 
тоот, low, half-darkened, spacious, had 
solas that were neither bolt upright nor 
deep enough to shoot one’s feet out at 
a tendon-wrenching angle. The dining 
тоот, with a working fireplace, looked 
out through a broad glass wall to a 
handsome expanse of greensward that 
з down to a pool in which someone 
nd Haydock had a strong conviction 
that it was not a studio extra, hired for 
the occ 
ming. There were no jokes in the bath- 
room. He had met Bronstein, Haydock 
reflected, and should have known better. 
But he had read the books and seen the 
films that these partial outcasts made in 
unaccountable disparagement of them- 
selves, and he felt a sense of letdown. 
It was for an instant relieved when he 
belatedly became aware of the hallway, 
in which hung a gallery of breathtaking 
oils, unusual by any literate standards. 


Very briefly, he thought he had discov- 
cred Bronstein’s Achilles’ heel; surely 


age had felt the delicate knowing 
nd of a set designer: then he dismissed 


the idea as unworthy. He wandered 
moodily around, meeting the guests— 
playwrights, authors, professional people 


ot distinction — and members of Bron- 
stcin's family, each of whom had done 
something spectacularly fine in the large 
worlds of medicine, law, scientific re 
search, Not quite cheated (for he would 
have been pleasurably irritated), he yet 
missed the rackety group singing at the 
piano (perhaps wearing funny hats): the 
corkscrew apologies for Russia, with the 
current. w in belitdement of tyr- 


ппу Г you have 
one Hung: 


1, and you sure can't gen- 


evitable Jew who told a derisive story 


about Jews (one that Haydock would 
never have told, and had no wish to 
hear); the outsized, aggressive he-man 
who drunkenly demanded to know if 
there were any Communists in the house. 

After the deferential colored staff had 
served a flawless dinner—an epicure’s 
revel that Haydock, in his new mood, 
decided made the hotel fare seem taste- 
less and sterile — he retired with Broi 
stein to a study adorned (unobtru у 
with testimonials to past triumphs. There 
they discussed the script. Haydock had 
read and reread it conscientiously, mal 
ing схрі notes. He had even rewrii 
ten a long scene, with dialog, to illustrate 
his basic complaints: that the script was 
uncomfortably humorless, that the char- 
acters represented a kind of reincarn: 
tion — having died under the studio's 
treatment and been perpetuated in an- 
other form, like the Tin Woodman of 
Oz—and that the story was practically 
new though not necessarily fresh. Aided 
by the spirits he had drunk (which 
consisted of four highballs, three glasses 
of wine and a hearty slug of co- 
gnac), he d fluendy but without 
heat. His preamble exonerated the 
writer of the script (fired weeks previ- 
ously); the man had clearly tackled 
a genre of book with which he felt ill at 
сазе. Haydock never doubted that the 
new writer, a youth who had been en- 
gaged to reshuffle the filth script, would 
construct 2 chronology easy to clothe in 
the book's oi garments. (according 
to Eisenfeld, there had been some sub 
rosa talk of asking Haydock, later, to do 
a "polish job" on the finished product). 
Warming to this opening theme, feeling 
ihe cognac work its magic, hc slipped 
into gentle sarcasm, one of his recurring 
auls. He had no doubt that such a 
richly promising youngster, whose name 
wa ady a houschold word (Haydock 
had never heard of him, as he was per- 
fectly aware that Bronstein knew), would 
blossom into one of the true geniuses of 
tomorrow. He rambled on, waxing in 
eloquence, and found himself, as often, 
thinking on two levels: a part of him 
discoursing with brilliance, and another 
standing off in applause. He harked back 
to the origins of movies, speaking with 
nostalgia of men old enough to be his 
grandfather, of David Wark Griffith, of 
Broncho Billy Anderson, of Adolph 
Zukor. He was pleased by the success of 
The Squaw Man, The Cabinet of Dr. Cali- 
gari and Bernhard’s Queen Elizabeth. 
‘These were the good parts, that made the 
dock graciously paid 
bute to Bronstein's studio, sketching 
its history and growth (wondering with 
awe how he could remember it all), and. 
came down to cases with a rousing back- 
clap for Bronstein’s own pictures. As to 
the project at hand, “You and J, work- 
ing together," he said, lighting a cigar 
(опе of his hosts, which would cause 
him to sneeze all the next day), "can 


lick this thing. I haven't the least doubt 
of it.” ardon me?" said Bronstein. 
Haydock wobbled back to earth, some- 
what in the manner of a spent rocket, 
without any way stops. Perfectly sober, 
he restated a few of his points about the 
script. Then he realized that his host 
was not listening. Perhaps he had never 
listened, from the day Haydock walked 
to the studio. What he heard instead, 
Haydock thought, was а clamorous litany 
of shouts from other sets, tasks finished, 
the ideas and rules, precept and ex- 
ample, that staked out the margin of 
safety in this industry that fearfully tip- 
toed day by day over its own worn trail. 
As his mind raced rapidly back through 
the week, Haydock realized that nobody 
ever listened here; it was the secret of 
social gift in this land. Why had Bron- 
stein wished to see him? Sadly, Haydock 
realized that he might never know. A 
film would be made from his book. Im- 
personally, as one might scan the movie 
list of a newspaper, he wondered what 
it would be like. 

‘They went home the next morning. 
At the airfield, the jet, which had raised 
its bulk so formidably before, had lost 
its towering appearance. Frowning, Hay- 
dock imagined that the Russians already 
had produced one twice as big. "Any- 
how," said his wife on the plane, snap- 
ping her fingers at a stewardess, in search 
of a magazine, "we didn't lose our 
heads" New York, when they landed, 
looked colorless, almost real — Haydock 
missed the vivid artificiality of Beverly 
Hills — and when they reached Spotlord, 
he stood in his yard, glancing around 
with mild distaste. The house of which 
they had been so proud appeared some- 
how to have shrunk, and the “green,” 
a sweeping uiumph of impeccable blu 
grass, seemed seedy. Even his children, 
returning from their private day school, 
had а raffish, casual look, as if they be- 
longed in New England. 

Though the hour was late, they de- 
cided to dine at home, with an accent 
on simplicity, watching television, their 
plates in their laps, the first dull step 
on the nervous read back to normal. 
They agreed that it was important. 
Carefully, Haydock tested the ham- 
burger steak that his wife plopped down 
with a curious air of abstraction. It was 
clearly overdone, For а brief, mad mo- 
ment, he decided to send it back to the 
kitchen, but he refrained when he con- 
sidered that nobody was there to re- 
ccive it. 

What was the one great way to Ше? 
thing in the morning, Haydock 
ht he would write Вгору 
It would strike just the right note 
teful and interested but aloof, ad- 
ng and wise, a siren letter, le: 
the door open for further negotiation. 


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106 


BANDIT „а рон page 52) 


blondie who pushed in here tonight and 
is sitting at your table is a wrong guy. 
Tell your friend, Mr. Moisse, not to get 
into any action with that fella’ 

at a table in Ike Bloom's 
joint the next Saturday night. Bloom's 
Midnight Frol Café was the fla 
drop in town. Here the h 
milles came to parade their feather 
their loot. Bedizened bedroom qucens 
ашКеу-тоцей on the dance floor with 
their paunchy, peasantfaced keepe: 
all shined up as if ready for interment. 
The whinny and roar of a 30-piece or- 
chestra poked at their fect. 

At the les wine gushed out of iced 
bottles, monkey-suited waiters curtsied, 
and diamonds sparkled from a swamp of 
female flesh in Па ning gowns. 
The splurge of silken-squeczed. breasts, 
buttocks and boiling pelvises filled the 
gilt cha motionless lewdness. 
i beside me, had shaken his last 
week's love woes out of his soul. He was 
scouting for Conchita's succe: 

“I've always made the mist: he 
said, “of hunting for loyalty and honor 
in the female. No more. Thats like 
hunting the unicorn, whose existence is 
still debatable.” Looking off, he added, 
“Holy Ike, have a look at our little pal! 
He seems to have struck gold 

Dude Teddy, in а satin-lapeled tux- 
cdo, stood in the noisy, mil 
Holding his arm was a tall, redh 
1 whom I knew. She w: 
with no other 
Lorelei with 
was to be seen alw 
—a dinging sh 


lef 


Four of us 


rs with a 


c boy face, she 
sin the same getup 
ath of black velvet out 


of which her slim neck provided its 
own ornament. The tousled hair was 
Pompeian red. Oiled eyelids were kept 
down like window blinds. Slited, 
eyes glinted out of an egg-white face. 
Thad interviewed Swan after the sui- 
cide of a jockey who had been her lover. 
I had also questioned the bellhops in 
her hotel —a lewd oasis in an area of 
pious residents. My findings were: she 
was the daughter of a socially glamorous 
family in New York City; she had gradu- 
ated from Vassar College; she could re- 
cite reams of Shakespeare in а genteel, 
broad.A'd voice; she was addicted to 
hashish in liquid form; and she had 
bedded with a score of lovers, all grubby 
underworld characters, But grubby lov- 
ers weren't enough. She liked to wallow 
in private dope parties where sex and 
hallucination cakewalked in the night. 
1 had come away from a three-hour 
ntcrview somewhat singed but unse- 
duced. And I had thereafter shunned 
the thrillzreedy, dirthungry beauty with 
the sweet boy face. 
“Do you know ha 
1 told 
“You talk like a Lutheran," he grinned, 
“Since when are nymphomania and a 
knowledge of Shakespeare drawbacks in 
a lady? Not to mention drugs and a talent 
for debauchery. They all add up to a 
shark-belly hunger for life. I've always 
wanted to love one of those creamy- 
ned man-caters.” 
se stood up, his face young with 
jollity. But he remained at the table. 
Teddy and his Swan had joined the 
couples on the dance floor 
STH wait till the Һатт 


head and her 


"Come back here, you!” 


prey finish their gyrations.” Moisse said. 

Dance followed dance. Couples started 
deserting the dimly lit floor. But our 
dude, Teddy, a head shorter than his 
flame-topped lady, hopped, skipped and 
swiveled on the dance floor with no 
more sign of quitting than if he were 
a goldfish circling in a bowl Swan 
seemed equally dance-nutty. 

Around three лм. Moisse's eyes ac 
quired а bourbon fog. The jam of bosom- 
bouncing mares and feet-twirling stal- 
lions had thinned out. But Swan and 
Teddy were still capering without letup. 

Moisse glared at our frisky dude. 
"That waltzing mouse will kecp the 
lady rotating until dawn," Moisse said. 
“I shall postpone my rescue of the poor 
girl until tomorrow. I assure you, on the 
navel of Salome, that I'll have the lovely 
Swan in my cornfield by tomorrow. To- 
morrow lI wrap her around me like 
a tourniquet.” 

Moisse slid down in his chair and fell 
asleep. 


But my friend had to shelve his plans 
for courtship. A new bandit saga hit 
the newsstands, blazoning the activities 
of an “albino slayer” soon identified as 
Teddy Webb. 

The press whooped with robbery and 
murder headlines. Chicago sat up as if 
a carnival had come to town. What fun 
headlines used to be when the disasters 
they shouted had nothing to do with us. 

Unbelievably even for that bandit 

heyday, the Teddy Webb saga kept grow- 
ing, kept piling up robberies and shoot- 
ngs week after week, if not a “lone 
bandit” was loose on the city but an 
invading army. The editorial writers 
began to take note and to sound warn- 
gs. “Not any man can deny that the 
spectacle of 4000 armed police officers 
unable to apprehend one murderous 
criminal is an ominous challenge to our 
very civilization. The question arises — 
is Chicago's police department too cor- 
rupt or, possibly, too inefficient to re- 
move this single menace to society — 
Bandit Teddy Webb?” 
a fellow our little dude was dur- 
saga days. Identified as а here- 
tofore smalltime stickup man, Teddy 
Webb raced through the town in а com- 
mandeer icab, descending on fur 
stores, dress shops and jewelry marts, 
nd wounding or kill whoever tried 
to thwart him, He blasted his way into 
a number of these places with dynamite 
sticks. The casualty list included two 
policemen, Teddy usually "struck alone." 
But once a "beautiful red-hii 
was glimpsed in his bandit cab." 

I covered the story from dawn to 
midnight, and did most of my sleep 
in the lobby of Swan's hotel, besi 
stakcout of four detectives, It was more 
than a lust for news that kept me glued 
to the story. E was not only its reporter 
but its phantom pa 


I knew what Teddy and Swan were 
feeling and saving in their secret, blood- 
spattered world of hashish and passion. 
1 understood Teddy Webb as if he were 
the simplest of Punch-and-Judy figures. 
1 could feel the joy in the soul of th. 
lonely little dude who 
peering out of nowhere 
come to him. Anonymous a 
ue childhood, this f 
aded feet first in the headline halls of 
me, or infamy — a distinction seldom 
made by the successful. 

I ako knew the happiness of Swan, 
though E understood it less. Female emo- 
nthropologist Гог deci 
re closer to the z00 than 


Victory 
a June bug 


ndless Гор had 


tions need an 


. They a 
^s. IF women had written the 
Old Testament instead of men, the 
would have put down a more credible 
Garden of Eden, one in which Eve ante- 


could her di 
more pri 
I didn't 


aghu 
ve how 
nders 


nd Sw. 
other 


ny more 


women 
ing eye. But 
Hall asleep beside the 
detectives in the lobby of the hotel, 
could sense her slitted eyes smiling 
the loot brought by her bandit lover. 
1 could sec it piled on the bed of some 
frowsy room, and sec her posturing. in 
the bloodstained furs and dresses | 
m Medusa tying on new hairdos. 
1 could see her hing nude and 
sexual im some shabby bed. with stolen 
diamonds twinkling on her skin, and 
with the shouts of “Extra Paper — New 
Murder Extra!” drifting into the hide- 
away room like а burst of applause. 1 
had read of such things in. Dostoievsky, 
De Quincey and the Marquis de Sade, 
but now I was their neighbor in life. 
The ecstasy of evil, sex full of Roman 
candles; the angelic float of drugs, the 
honey taste of crime, the glee of murder, 
and each day lived like a leap from 
high roof 1 peered through a door 
k into this other world. 
I moved on to the office of Assistant 
Superintendent of Chicago's Pol 
cheuttler, called ” 
by his admirers. 1 was i 
about the derisive postca 
ceived from the hunted bandit. 
Reporter Barden Cormack of 
American was also on hand. to w 
that afternoon later in his play, The 
Racket, and in numerous n zine tales. 
Cormack was a pale, bespectacled, wizen- 
faced young journalist. His future tal- 
ems were not yet perceptible in his 
ve clucks of wonder at the world. 
tell a bit 


on 
whom I have tu 
1 could sense her 


the 
ite of 


уо 


I pause in my si 
Chief Scheuttler who Ic 
dred melodramas in my memor 
Scheutler was a law enforcer as un- 
ble as amy to be эсеп on our 
screens today, He was a tall, 
bulky, implacable enemy of crime. hon- 
est as the day the 
ant, 


Scheuttler had made a spectacula 
ture of the anarchist Louis L 
leader of the Haymarket 
throwers. 

Anarchist Linge had been tracked 
down in а three-story house. Lieutenant 
Scheuttler а dozen cops entered il 
building with drawn suns. Louis Linge 
shouted down from the third floor tha 
he held a bomb in his hand, and that 
the cops started. up the stairs he would 
explode it and kill everybody on the 
premises, including. himself. 

Lieutenant Scheutiler said to his men 
t here.” He handed one of them 
un and then called out 
After vou alone, L 
п. И you lick me you can get away 

Sivfootthree Herman — Scheuuler. 
famed for his powerhouse fists, walked 
up to where iron-muscled. six-foot-tw 
Louis stood with his 
bomb, fictional” 
ad 
bomb away. re 
on the barrel-chested nemesis in fair b 
Че. No television Western. today ollers 
a more. Homeric fracas than was fought 
by big Herman and big Louis on those 
West Side stairs. 

Scheuttler won. Tattered and bleed- 
he lugged the unconscious Lingg to 
w below. 


cap 
ngg — 
Riots bomb 


nd 


"lm com- 


is, without 


Lingg 
Anar 
act 


the 
however, won li 
Jaw. He outvitted the hai 
ing а nitroglycerin bomb and blowing 


Louis Li 


cops w 
s second bout w 
nan by chew 


his head off. 

That was many ve 

the same stalwart crime hater who spoke 
out of his chief's chair about Teddy. 
m going to get Teddy Webb," Chief 
Scheuutler said, 
That murdering litle squirt will 
trial with а broken jaw and an car miss- 
ing. Pm going to take the little bastard 
apart before 1 bring him in. You can 
quote me for that, and I don't care if it 
costs me my job. He killed two police- 
men. 


ту ago, but it was 


1 I promise you th 


0 10 


The phone rang. Scheutiler answered. 
His face lighted. His bulk came out of 
the chai 

We've got Teddy Webb's address. 
the chiet said, "A woman just phoned 
it in to Captain Srrassneider." 

"Can we have her name?" I asked. 

“Who in hell knows her name?” Scheut- 
ter answered and strode out of the room. 
Cormack and. I trotted after him. 

А few years later 1 would have known 
instantly 


who the betrayer was-Swan. 
Who else betrays a man as surely as the 
wom: who loves h But at 19 my 


ation of womankind was sl 


ару 
e I had. not yet learned that 
love and hate were twins, that love can 
and kill as well as serve and de 
м. D had not yet seen a half-dozen 
mours sobbing over lovers they had 
ı. “Oh, E loved hin so, 1 loved 
Nor had 1 discovered the dis 
fact that sex w 
cise only, but a diversion full of devilish 


and ros 


par, 
just sl 
him so! 


as no merry exer- 


problems. Not till like 20s did 
I become aware that love-smitten ladies 


have kept the police as busy as have 
gangsters. 
Yes, it was Swan who called Captain 


Surassneider. She betrayed her Teddy 


for a reason more startling than any I 
was ever to hear from a soured Isolde. 


^ormack and I arrived at the tipped. 
off address 10 minutes after the cops, An 
excited policeman in front of the house 
told us Teddy Webb had been captured 
on the top floor. Bart and I skittered up 
the stairs and popped 
room, with a skyli i 
of Scheu icemen 
were standing around Teddy Webb a 
he put on his shirt and trousers. No one 
spoke. The cops were motionless. 1 stared 
at Teddy as he carefully fixed his polk 
dot Че. It seemed incredible that th 
blondish little dude, silent and wistful, 
had terrorized a city. I noted an opened 
trunk overllowing with furs 
dresses. The sweet, odor 
e powder and perfumes drifted 
e in the air. But there was no $ 
Then E noted a fifth uniformed cop. He 
lay dead on the floor, dead on his back 
ith arms stretched. ош and. stony eyes 
up in а blueskinned. face, 
the body. There was по 


attic bed 


nd colorful 
of fi 


rolled 
I stared ar 
wound visible, or drop of blood. s I 


knelt beside the dead man for a closer 
look, | saw Scheuttler head for me. He 
lifted me from the floor and tung me 
out of the тоот. An owl-eyed Cormack 
came stumbling out after me. A cop 
towed us elliciently down the stairs. 
Ten minutes later а cop came out of 
the house and said the chief wanted us 


upstairs ag: 
The dead policeman was still on the 
floor but with his coat oll. There w: 
а hole in his bloodstained shirt 
"He was shot in the armpit,” Scheut- 
der said. “That's why vou didn't notice 
the bullet wound before. You can sec for 


rself, now 

T saw the blood-covered wound, and I 
saw also that Scheutder’s left band was 
in his coat pocket, 1 knew part of the 
story then. Later, Teddy Webb told me 
the whole of it. 

“1 was having a nap." Teddy reminisced 
in his death cell, "when 1 heard а 
T knew it was the cops. I jumped for the 
skylight, like I'd always planned, and 
this cop came busting into the room, I 
didn't have my gun handy and was in 
my underpants. The cop had his 
his hand. 1 thought 1 was а goner, hang 

om the skylight in my underpants. 

cop didn't shoot. He just looked 
at me with his mouth open and turned 
blue and Hopped to the floor. dead with 
rt failure. 1 was so surprised I hung 
there a few seconds. Then all the boys 
came im. After Chief Scheuttler kicked 
you out of the room, he pulled olf the 

wd shot hi 

Then he sliced his ок 
a pocket knife and sme 


yo 


noise. 


sun in 


п under the 


dead cop's coat 
um 


hand with 


red his blood 107 


PLAYBOY 


108 


оп the cop, because guys don't bleed 
fier they're dead. He was saving the 
honor of the police force. he said. He 
didn't want it on record that a police 


ollic 1 been frightened to death by 
just looking at me. And while he w 

giving the dead сор an honorable 
wound, he made а deal with me. He 
promised not to rough me up if I kept 
my mouth shut about the dead cop. So, 
why not? I was going to be tried lor 
killing two other cops. There was no 
harm in making it three. Just a little 


more publicity before my good-bye party 

On the sidewalk in front of the house 
Scheuttler asked me nervously, "What 
are you going to write about the dead 
осет?" 

1 remembered Scheuuler and Louis 
Lingg many other old Wooden 
е, stori 

VIL write he was shot down while 
bravely performing hi 


and 


Webb's trial 
Ко without 
than 


1 remember 
guely, and his hanging is a 
detail in my memory, hardly mor 
the sound of the gallows’ trap b 
down. ‘The wildness of that sound that 
puncuuted my youth every month or so 
never left my cars. 

But there is one Teddy Webb scene 
that replays itself vividly in my head, 
inal look and sound. 
Swan in Teddy Webb's death cell. Swan 
come to bid him Т Ш two nights 
before his hanging. Swan in her black- 
velvet sheath of a dress, slim-foatcd, 
slim-necked, eyes almost shut in a ge 
teel boy face topped by claws of red 
hair. Swan as unchanged as a clock tick 

Chief Scheuttler, grateful for my lies 
about his dead cop, had sent me a tip 
about this lovers’ last пуз 

lew 


Teddy 


s alter 
ing casino with Teddy in his cell. It was 
the only same he knew. 
“You're just wasting your time, 
ddy said, ^I don't own a quarter to 
pay up with.” 1 mentioned his last “bank 
job.” 
“She got it all, 
me those card wi 


watch,” 

I started palming cards and tumbling 
them down my coat sleeve. I had spent 
much time as a boy practicing to be a 
magicim. Teddy watched, and listened 
Tor the sound of a visitor. 1 listened with 
him. dc — heels. click 
scendo lent corridor. Gus Plotka, 
guard, unlocked the cell. 
of perfume freshened the air 
and Swan came in, like a debutante gone 
slumming. 

“I thought you would be alone, 
dy." she said 

I said I'd step outside. 

1t doesn't really matter," Swan's Iah- 
dedah voice stopped me. “Which paper 
do you write for 

“The Journa 

"Oh, those 


Ted- 


stories,” Swan smiled, 


"quite Baudelairian.” 

“How are you, Swan?” Teddy Webb's 
baritone asked. 

"Very sad 
down here’ 


Swan 


“May I sit 


room in my bed for 

. Swan sat beside him 
on the hard cell bed. 

They were silent, and I noticed that 
Teddy wasn't looking at her. Hc was 
looking out of the cell door 
grim, his lips rigid. I became aware of 
Teddy Webb as if I had stepped into 
his he His thoughts swirled around 
те, "You turned me in to the cops. you 
bitch. You put me here to be hanged, 
you bitch." His silence was like a sput- 
tering fuse. And 1 knew what 1 should 
have known in Scheuttler’s office. It w 
Sw 


Swan's slitted eyes opened. They were 
green, large and full of sadness, But I 
thought of snakes’ heads. 

1 loved you very much, Teddy,” she 
whispered. 
ou gave me a good run for my 
money,” said Teddy, and smiled. 

“їс wasn't for money,” Swan said, 
“you mustn't ever chink that." 

Phe green eyes under the claws of red 
ir looked tenderly on the doomed man, 
TIl never love anybody as much as I 
did you," Swan said, “as long as I live.” 

“Me, either,” Teddy said, and grinned 
over his little joke. 

How could he talk to her, smile at 
her, listen to her lies? He knew. Or 
maybe he didn't, Maybe I had guessed 
it out of my own head. not out of h 
'm glad you're not afraid of Friday, 
Swan said. 

"I'm kind of looking forward to it 


said Teddy. "Ive had all I капс 
y'know what 1 mean?" 
'u at all afraid?" she asked. 


I heard mockery in her voice. 
has to die,” said Teddy. 
ng to the gallows,” Swan 
xcitement sharpened her voice 
and pulsed in her neck. "And having to 
stand still while they do all those things 
to you. The торе — and things. They 
should give you some drug to make it 

icr for you. 

“They would if 1 asked," 

"You woi't ask?" Swan whi 

"No, ГЇ keep my eyes open till they 
finish," Teddy said. 

And still no accusation, no cry of rage 
at her betrayal. I watched them stand 
up, and 1 knew the game they were play- 
ing. She had come to the cell to enjoy 
Teddy's terror. And he was intent on 
thwarting her. 

“1 think 1 had better go," 

"Yes" said Teddy 
here.” 


Swan said. 
there's no fun 


iday moi 
Teddy nodded, 
"Would you mı 
an asked. 
"What a question,” Teddy grinned. 

1 watched a curious embrace; a cool 


7" Swan whispered. 
"AL six A.M.” 
nd if 1 kissed you?” 


5 


little тап in the arms of a passion- 
glowing woman. Nothing secret, now. 
She let him see her gloat of pleasure as 
her hands caressed his neck and clutched 
at his back. Her slim body fitted itself 
ainst him. Her lips and teeth ate at 
mouth. 

"The shameless embrace ended. Swan's 
сух opened. A green, watery light was 
in them. She spoke in a hoarsened voice, 

oodbye, Teddy." 

"So lon 


honey,” Teddy said. And he 


was still smiling. 

Swan walked out of the death cell. 
Plotka locked the door and the heel 
dicks moved away. 


"The little bitch, the little bitch,” 
‘Teddy said. “God n her soul to hell!” 
He sat down, and looked at me with 
shivering shoulders. 
"Did J do all right?" 
didn't let on, did 
"No. you didn't. 
"Scheuttler told me, right off." Teddy 
said, “that she turned me in. She came 
here hoping I'd holler at her. But E 
wouldn't give her the satisfaction. She 
1 to give it to herself, grabbing me 
nd enjoying а dead man in her arms. 
"Thats what she was ki: —a dead 


sked. “I 


he 


[i 


man. I wanted to stick my hand down 
her throat and rip her tongue out. But 
I took it easy, didn’t 12 And she knew 


all the time I knew about her turning 
me in. I spoiled some of her fun, smil- 
ing at her. And ГИ tell you something 
else. She never fooled me while we were 
hooked up in that room. 1 knew all the 
time she'd do it. She was excited over 
my killing those cops. She wanted to do 
some killing herself. For ki So she 
picked me. I could feel it when 1 was 
holding her, and she'd start shivering. 


"ll get her big kick out of Friday 


“Why did you stay with her after you 
knew what she'd do?” 1 asked. 

"1 don't know,” Teddy said. "It was 
like gambling. Yeh, I kept betting my 
neck against another kiss. Just for kicks, 
ke her. Yeh, we had a ball for a time, 
us two. And TI tell you something 
about that redhead. I wouldn't trade 
places with her right now." 

He yawned. 
m sleepy,” he said. "Sce you Friday 
morning. Write me up good, will you?” 

That was Teddy Webb, the little no- 
body who had found a brief identity as 
"а menace to our civilization”; and who 
was ready to go back to bei 
at the end ol a rope. 

1 saw Swan once again on the 
y night after the ha She 
sitting velveted, poised and smiling at 
ple in Ike Bloom’s café. Sitting beside 


her, tenderly massaging her hand and 
telling her а story, was Lionel Moise. 


His rumpled hair was slicked down. 
I said а hello to the happy couple and 
walked on. 


GROOMING GEAR соса оп page 38) 


the possibility of a male aroma, you will 
probably want to try the deodorants. 
For most men, antiperspirants do the 
trick. Tip: make sure your underarms 
are thoroughly dry before donning your 
shirt; though most antiperspirants and 
deodorants do not damage fabrics (and 
you should check labels concerning the 
kers’ guaranties in this respect), harm 
to fabrics is far more likely to occur if 
the underarm application you use is 
damp or tacky when you dress. 
nce your freshly bathed 
feeling and sense of sparkling cleanli- 
ness, you may wish to make use of a drop 
or two of men’s cologne. If so, shun the 
sweet scents in favor of citrus or woodsy 
or spice-based tang. 

Most men shampoo while showering 
— which is a good idea. Too many men 
use their bath soap for this purpose, 
and we recommend that they promptly 
switch to shampoo. In selecting the 
shampoo, be guided by your hair type 
— dry, normal or oily. For dry hair, seck 
a brand of shampoo containing lanolin; 
if your scalp tends to be sensitive or to 
use a shampoo containing a ger- 
al agent. In any case, lather copi- 
ously and rub vigorously, twice, with a 
complete rinsing in between, making 
certain that the final rinse is thorough. 

Once you've dried your hair, you'll 
probably want to apply a tonic or dress- 
ing suitable to your hair type: creams, 
oils and glycerine-based ones for dry 
hair, alcohol-based oi for oily hair. An 
imporrant part of hair care is daily 
brushing with a fairly stiff-bristled hair- 
brush. The scalp is more readily stimu- 
lated if you start at the back of the neck. 
and brush up and over your head— 
regardless of what hair style you prefer. 
A lively massage with an clectric vibrator 
is an alternative to brushing. 

A final word about hair c this not 
self-administered, but definitely impor- 
tant for you to be aware of. Patronize 
the very best barbershop you can find, 
and find one barber therein who knows 
how you like your hair cut and will take 
the time and effort required to trim it 
without use of razor or clippers. Then 
regularly avail yourself of his ministra- 
tions so that you will fulfill this criterion 
of looking like a : “He never 
rcut; he never 


a matter of secondary importance. Virtu- 
ally all standard brands of dentifrice do 
a good job and you won't go far wrong 
selecting by favor alone. Same with 
mouthwashes and rinses, though most 
dentists warn against using the power- 
fully germicidal ones except in recom- 
mended dilution. But more important 
than these is the brushing itself, properly 
accomplished with the sides of the bris- 


Чез, not the tips, and with to-and-fro 
massage action starting above the gum 
line and swinging down from the top 
teeth. up from the lowers. If you're the 
hurry-up type, you'll t to inv 
electric toothbrushes, which give you the 
equivalent of thorough hand brushing in 
a fraction of the time. 

We hereby secede from the razor con- 
troversy. It's our belief that a 
should have both an electric razor and 
a regular razor. In. fact, we favor two 
clectric razors, one to be kept in the 
office for a fast facial cleanup if you're 
going out for the evening without stop- 
ping off at home first, or if you have an 
important cocktail or business appoi 
ment. Most men feel they can get a 
nd blade, rather 
than with an electric shaver. This may 
be a matter of habit, or of technique. 
‘Those using a bladed razor should be 
aware that the best of shaving creams 
(tube, bomb or hard-milled-soap lather 
to be used with brush) cannot do a 
proper job without a thorough face- 
washing first. Then, all soap should be 
removed with a thorough rinse. И you 
have oily skin, two washes and two rinses 
may do more than one to soften the 
beard and prepare it for shaving. Many 
men have found that a splash of sk 
bracer or even after-shave lotion, applied 
after the rinse and before the shaving 
preparation, helps keep the face hairs 
erect and ready for effective cutting. 
Wielders of straight razors need no 
admonition to keep their razors well 
stropped. Safety razor blades should be 
changed before each shave. 


8 VA. 


The electric razor, too, does better 
when the face has been cleansed of all 
natural oils. Howcver, your electric razor 
will perform better on a thoroughly dry 
beard. For wielders of the electric razor 
there are talcs and preshave lotions 
which achieve the desired condition be- 
fore you zizz away the whiskers. 

We're all in favor of after-shave lo- 
tions, provided they are not heavily 
scented and that what scent they do 
have is bracingly fresh rather than fra- 
grant. They not only remove the last 
vestiges of lather, but they cleanse those 
scopic nicks which are virtually un- 
avoidable, and they close the pores and 
cool the face while they evaporate. 

"Too many chaps, otherwise impeccably 
groomed, neglect their hands, There 
are odorless, lanolin-based hand creams 
which, if regularly applied, will prevent 
a chap’s chapping his paws in the cold- 
est weather. Thorough drying alter 
washing, application of lotion and the 
wearing of gloves whenever one is out- 
doors all help keep hands in good condi- 
tion throughout 

We recommend fairly regular sessions 
with the manicurist in your barbershop. 
Between her ministrations, clippers and 
emery boards will keep your nails the 


y. An orange stick is the thing. 
on toenail care: clip them short 
and straight across, to avoid ingrown 
nails and the snagging of socks. 

And now, groomed from head to toe, 
you're bound to be the best man, 


“If you ask me, the thin veneer of civilization 
stripped off Benson pretty darn quick.” 


109 


PLAYBOY 


110 


SORRY PLIGHT 


(continued from page 48) 


learn there is more in life than wcll- 
tied cravats. 
BE DEMONSTRATIVE 

Women like gestures of open affec- 
tion. Approach the woman of your 
choice with a rush and fling your arms 
around her as you grow taller. Thus you 
will, in a sensc, work your way up. 

The cuddle or snuggle is effectiv 
too. Land suddenly on the proper lap 
and hang on. 

When you have reached the size at 
which it is debatable who should get on 
whose lap, you have gone beyond the 
bounds of this first installment. 


BE A BONE OF CONTENTION 

Women are always competing with 
each other. Use this to your advantage. 
It is never too carly to begin. 

Valuable as it is to put your arms 
around а woman, it is twice as valuable 
if another woman is watching. Jealousy 
begin to work in the neglected 
woman. 


avie, come over here and see 
what Гое got for you!” 


She will have something interesting 
and it will differ as you grow older. 


now To 
Luckily for 


HANDLE TEACHERS 
you, most elementary 
school teachers are women. You can han- 
dle them just as easily as you do other 
women, and with the same methods. 

Avoid thc old clichés. For example, 
taking an apple to the teacher is bad. 
On the contrary: 


"May I borrow your apple, Miss 
Brown?" 
“Oh, Davie, are you so hungry?" 
"Oh, no! We have plenty at 
home. Just felt a little weak.” 
(Always be brave.) 
"You certainly may have my ap- 
ple, Davie!” 


Your object is not the apple. You may 
not even like apples. You are trying to 
win her friendship. She will soon forget 
the lad who brought the apple, but she 
will long remember the one who bor- 
rows it. 


SPREAD HAPPINESS 
Your little body will begin to grow, 
faster than you expect. All the more 
reason why you should use these golden 
years wisely, giving yourself a firm foun 
dation on which to build your life. 

If you forget everything else, remem- 
ber this; all older women are hungry 
for love and affection. Give it to them. 
It is your duty to spread sunshine. 

Spread it— spread it thickly. There 
will always be enough to go around. 

NEXT MONTH "THE FIRST SAP. 
OF MANHOOD AND HOW IT RISI 


WHO SHALL DWELL 
(continued from page 81) 


barnyard animals on a shared slate. The 
older boy was in the tack shed out back, 
saddle-soaping some harnesses. 

When the waltz program was inter- 
rupted by an announcer with a routine 
political appeal, the father rose, tapped 
the ash from his pipe, and ambled lazily 
into the kitchen, 

“How about joining me in a little 
glas of wine?” he asked, patting his 
wife affectionately on the hip. 

“IE you don't think it would be too 
crowded,” she replied, smiling casily at 
their standing jest 

He grinned amiably and reached into 
the cupboard for the bottle and glasses. 

Suddenly the radio message was 
abruptly cut off. A moment of hum- 
ming silence. Then, in a voice pregnant 
with barely controlled excitement, the 
announcer almost shouted: 

"Bomb alert! Bomb alert! Attentior 
Attention! A salvo of missiles has just 
been launched across the sea, heading 
this way. Attention! They are expected 
to strike within the next 16 minutes, 
tcen minutes! This is a verified alert! 
Take cover! Take cover! Keep your 
radios tuned for further instructions.” 

“My God!" the father gasped, drop- 
ping the glasses. “Oh, my God!" His 
ruggedly handsome face was ashen, 
puzzled, as though he knew beyond a 
shadow of doubt that this was real — 
but still could not quite believe it. 

"Get the children,” his wife blurted, 
then dashed to the door to call the older 
boy. He stared at her a brief moment, 
g the fear in her pretty face, but 
something else, too, something divorced 
from the fear. Defiance. And a loathing 
for all men involved in the making and 
dispatch of nuclear weapons. 

He wheeled then, and ran to the bed- 
room. “Let's go," he snapped, "shelter 
drill!" Despite а belated attempt to 
tone down the second phrase and make 
it seem like just another of the many 
rehearsals they'd had, ice and 
bearing galvani ters into 
istant action. TI aped from the 
bed without à word and dashed for the 
door. 

He hustled them through the kitchen 
to the rear door and sent them scootin; 
to the shelter. As he returned to the 
bedroom for outer garments for himself 
nd his wife, the older boy came rur 
ning in. 

“This is the hot one, So said his 
father tersely, "the real one" He and 
the boy stared at each other a long mo- 
ment, both knowing what must be done 
and cach knowing the other would more 
than do his share, yet wondering still at 
the frightening fact that it must be done 
at all. 

“How much time we got, Dad 

“Not long,” the father replied, glanc- 
ing at his watch, “12, maybe 14 minutes.” 


The boy disappeared into the front 
room, going after the flashlight and 
battery radio. The father stepped to the 
closet, slid the door open and picked up 
the flat metal box containing their vital 
papers marriage license, birth certifi- 
cates, ctc. Hc tossed the box on the bed, 
then took down his wife's shortcoat and 
his own hunting jacket. Draping the 
clothing over his arm, he then picked up 
the metal box and the big family Bible 
from the headboard on the bed. Every- 
thing else they would need had been 
stored in the shelter the past several 
months, He heard his wife approaching 
and turned аз she entered the room. 

“Ready, Dear?” she asked. 

“Yes, we're ready now," he replied, 

"are the kids gone їп?” 
“They're all down," she answered, 
then added with a faint touch of de- 
spairing bewilderment, "I still can't be- 
lieve it's real,” 

“We've got to believe it,” he said, 
looking her steadily in the eye, “we can't 
afford not to." 

Outside, the day was crisp and clear, 
typical of early fall. Just right for boat- 
ing on the river, fishing or bird shoot- 
ing. A regular peach of a day, he thought, 
for fleeing underground to escape the 
awesome hell of a nuclear strike. Who 
was the writer who had said about atomic 
weapons, "Would any self-respecting can- 
nibal toss one into a village of women 
and children?" He looked at his watch 
ain. Four minutes had elapsed since 
the first alarm. Twelve minutes, morc or 
less, remained. 

Inside the shelter, he dogged the door 
with its doublestrength strap iron bar, 
and looked around to see that his family 
was squared away. His wife, wearing her 
attractive blue print cotton frock (he 
noticed for the first time), was method- 


ically checking the food supplie 
The sn 


by the older son. 1 children had 
already put their l fright behind 
is the nature of youngsters, 
and were drawing on the slate again in 
quiet, busy glee. 

Now it began. The waiting. 

They knew, he and his wife, that 
others would come soon, begeing and 
crying to be taken in now that the time 
was here, now that Armageddon һай 
come screaming toward the bbing 
through the sky on stubbed wings of 
shining steel. 

They had argued the aspects of this 
when the shelter was abuilding, It was 
in her mind to share their refuge. “We 
can't call ourselves Chr ns and then 
deny safety to our friends when the 
showdown comes," she contended, “that 
isn't what God teaches.” 

“That's nothing but religious pap," 
he retorted with a degree of 
meal Christianity." For he was a hard- 
headed man, an Old Testament man. 
“God created the family as the basic 


unit of society" he reasoned. “That 
should make it plain that a man's pri- 
mary Christian duty is to protect his 
family." 

“But don't you sec?" she protested, 
“we must prepare to purify ourselves 
... to rise above this ‘mine thinking 
and be as God’s own son, who said, 
‘Love thy neighbor.’ " 

“No,” he replied with finality, "I 
can't buy that.” Then, after a moment's 
thought while he groped for the words 
to make her understand the truth which 
burned in the core of his soul, “It is my 
family 1 must save, no one more, You. 
These kids. Our friends are like the 
people of Noah's time: he warned them 
of the coming flood when he built the 
ark on God's command. He was ridi- 
culed and scoffed at, just as we have 
been ridiculed. No," and here his voice 
took on a new sad sureness, an air of 
dismal certainty, “it is meant that if they 
don't prepare, they die. 1 see no need 
for further argument,” And so, she had 
reluctantly acquiesced. 

With seven minutes left, the first 
knock rang the shelter door. "Let us in! 
For God's sake, man, let us in!" 

He recognized the voice. It was his 
first neighbor down the road toward 
town. 

"No!" shouted the father, “there is 
only room lor us. Go! Take shelter in 
your homes. You may yet be spared." 

Again came the pounding. Louder. 
More urgent. 

"You let us in or we'll break. down 
this door!” He wondered, with some 
concern, if they were actually getting a 
am of some sort to batter at the door. 
He was reasonably certain it would hold. 
At least as long as it must. 

“The seconds ticked relentlessly away. 
Four minutes left. 

His wife stared at the door in stricken 
fascination and moaned stightly. “Steady, 
irl" he said, evenly. The children, 
having halted their game at the first 
shouting, looked at him in fearful won- 
derment. He glared at his watch, ran his 
hands distraughtly through his hair, and 
said nothing. 

‘Three minutes left. 

At that moment, a woman's cry from 
the outside pierced him in an utterly 
vulnerable spot, а place the men could 
never have touched. with their desperate 
demands. “If you won't let me in," she 
cried, "please take my baby, my little 


He was stunned by her plea. This he 
had not anticipated. What must 1 do? 
he asked himself in sheer agony. What 
th could deny a child the 


Ac that ройи, his wife rose, sobbing, 
and stepped to the door. Before he could 
move to stop her, she let down the latch 
and dashed out andy а three- 
year-old girl w thrust into the shelter. 
He hastily fought the door latch on 


again, then stared at the frightened 
little newcomer in mute rage, hating her 
with an abstract hatred for simply being 
there in his wife's place and knowing 
he could not turn her out. 

He sat down heavily, trying desper- 
ately to think, The voices outside grew 
louder. He glanced at his watch, looked 
at the faces of his own children а long 
moment, then rose to his feet. There 
were two minutes left, and he had made 
his decision. He marveled now that he 
1 even considered any other choice. 
Son," he said to the older boy, "you 
take care of them." It was as simple as 
that. 

Unlatching the door, he thrust it open 
and stepped out. The crowd surged 
toward him. Blocking the door with his 
body, he snatched up the two children 
nearest him, a boy and a girl and 
shoved them into the shelter. "Bar that 
door," he shouted to his son, "and don't 
open it for at least a week!” 

Hearing the latch drop into place, he 
turned. and glanced around at the faces 
in the crowd. Some of them were still 
babbling incoherently, utterly panic- 


stricken. Others were quiet now, re- 
signed, no longer afraid 

Stepping to his wife's side, he took 
her hand and spoke in a warm, low 
tone. “They will be all right, the boy 
will lead them." He grinned reassuringly 
and added, “We should be together, you 
and L" 

She smiled wordlessly through her 
tears and squeezed his hand, exchanging 
with him in the one brief gestui 
time and more of devotion. 

"hen struck the first bomb, blinding 
them, burning them, blasting them into 
eternity. Streaking across the top of the 
world, across the extreme northern tip 
of Greenland, then flaming downrange 
through the chilled Arctic skies, it had. 
passed over Moscow, over Voronezh, and 
on over Krasny to detonate high above 
their city of Shakhty. 

The bird had been 19 minutes in 
flight, launched from а bomb-blasted, 
seared-surface missile pit on the coast 
of California. America’s retaliation con- 
tinued for several hours. 


PLAYBOY 


112 


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PLAYBOY’S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK 
BY PATRICK CHASE 


DURING SEPTEMBER, when summer's go- 
now-pay-later crowd is back home, and 
before the winte on commences, the 
world’s pl: 
cect élbowbendibg doom. Fie and 
foremost among these last resorts are the 
Us attendant to the har- 

nd good friend, 


him who would sample the multiform 
fruits of the vine. 

An y example is Mun 
riotous Oktoberfest — which, with Ba- 
varian foresight, gets under way dui 
September — where you may imbibe your 
time jn the pleasant company of sev- 
cral thousand high-spirited Brünnhildes. 
Proximate German intemperate zones 
are found at Koenigswinter, where the 


Vintner's Festival bubbl, at the 
iccwashed. gy Drach- 
nfels mounta Duerkheim, 


e the saucy Sausage Fair is held 

Road scholars will find. further stimu- 
al in the valley of 
Portugal's Douro River, scenic site of 
the port wine harvest, At Péso da Régua 
the Guild of Portgrape Growers will ar 
range an itin for you through the 
eas where pressing business is in full 
ng, together with introductions to 
growers’ private wine cellars for tiptop 
Uppling of special vintages. You may then 
head for Spain and the sherry harvest at 
Jerez de la Frontera, a sparkling town 
of whitewashed houses and narrow 
streets limned with orange trees and 


aromatic with the heady scent of sherry 
g [rom cnormous casks in th 
e- 
houses are open to the public during the 
Iourday Fiesta de la Vindim ad visi- 
are {ree to sip and savor the finos 
«| olorosos between sessions of bull- 
fights, horse racing, fireworks and 
menco dancing. Also, in September, 
Greek tasteamnakers offer daily w bib- 
the park of the famous Byzantine 
stery at Daphne, nine miles outside 
Athens. For a small admission fee you 
are at liberty to take the rough with the 
smooth from a sampling of more than 
60 varieties of Greck wines — to the ac- 
companiment of folk dances and sin 
Across the Atlantic, we suggest a visit 
10 Venezuela, where you can swing into 
the South American spring aided by the 
new Venezuelan tourist exchange rate 
bolivars to the dollar, аз com- 
pared to the official rate of 3.35 — which 
cuts carousing costs by more than a 
third. Stay at the lush new 30million- 
dollar Macuto Sheraton, close to Caracas? 
airport. Here you may relish the stayat- 
home pleasures of the hotel's golf and 
night dubs, natural beach 1 dual 
swimming pools, or sct forth on 
cursions to cascading Angel Fall de 
in the jungle 
grounds — now open to skind 
Margarita. Islnd. 
For further information on any of the 
above, write to Playboy Reader Sero. 
ice, 252 E. Ohio SL, Chicago 11, Ill. a 


id to the peartfishing 
s— off 


NEXT MONTH: 


“THE THIN RED LINE"— 
OF "FROM HERE TO ETERNITY' 


BEGINNING A NEW NOVELETTE BY THE AUTHOR 
BY JAMES JONES 


“WORLD WITHOUT DISTANCE"'—AN ARRESTING INQUIRY INTO THE 


LIMITS OF THE POSSIBLE: 


IN THE FUTURE OF TRANSPORTATION, ALL 


SYSTEMS ARE GO—BY ARTHUR C. CLARKE 


“DR. FREUD'S COCKTAIL PARTY''—A FAMED CARTOONIST EXAMINES 
THE PSYCHES OF THE MARTINI SET, FINDS THEY'RE JUST A BUNCH 
OF CRAZY, MIXED-UP IDS—BY VIRGIL PARTCH 


“THE PRODIGAL POWERS OF POT"-ACCLAIMED BY ANCIENTS, 
FROWNED ON BY FUZZ, BEATIFIED BY BEATS, MARIJUANA REMAINS THE 
MOST MISUNDERSTOOD DRUG OF ALL TIME—BY DAN WAKEFIELD 


“THE GIRLS OF OUTER SPACE”—A PICTORIAL ROMP WITH MAIDENS, 
FAIR FROM OTHER PLANETS—BY JERRY YULSMAN 


“What dolls. 
If only 
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having 
a drink 
with 

\ that lemon 
tonight” 


і 


“Who are you calling “Of course 
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Wolfschmidt is mine. Wasn't he with me 
He's got taste? last night?" 


"Look at me, 
Wolfschmidt. 
You know 
youronions. | 
Let's make 
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Martinis 
together? 


PRODUCT OF L5^ 


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Bloody Marys, Martinis, Tonics, Etc. GENERAL WINE AND SPIRITS CO., N, Y. 27. MADE FROM GRAIN, 80 OR 100 PROOF, PROD, OF U.S.A. 


M ` 
m 
# 
& 


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The only all extra quality Scotch 


(its on the label and in the bottle)