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MAY 1963 SIXTY CENTS 


А 


THE FEMLIN COMES TO LIFE 
PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR 


FACT AND FICTION BY IAN 
FLEMING, LESLIE FIEDLER, 
BEN HECHT, SHEPHERD MEAD 


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Р L A Y B 1 L The issueat hand 
marks the third 
time we have devoted a cover to our 
Femlin, that puckish little sprite who, in 
six short years, has become the world's 
best-known — and sexiest — elf since J. 
M. Barrie's Tinker Bell. Similar in name 
nd temperament to the mischievous 
“gremlin,” the Femlin first came to us in 
June 1957, when she popped out of a 
champagne glass sketched on our Party 
Jokes page by LeRoy Neiman. For the 
next year and a half she showed up— 
now as a blonde, now as a brunette — 
whenever it suited her fancy. In No- 
vember 1958, she became permanently 
raven-haired after a midnight dip in 
a bottle of Neiman's India ink (which 
alo explains her jetblack hose and 
gloves). A short time later, she broke 
into our reader-mail file and. discovering 
that she was one of our most popular 
features, demanded a promotion to cover 
girl She got her way in August 1960, 
when Neiman depicted her holding the 
very first Playboy Club key. The taste 
of fame made her all thc more imp-crious 
and before we knew what she was up to 
she had persuaded sculptor Austin Fox, 
Jr., to create a series of Femlin figurines 
for sale to her admirers. In April 1961, 
she made her second cover appearance, 
her first in sculptured form. Skeptics who 
don't believe she really exists may change 
their minds after inspecting our photo 
feature, The Femlin Comes to Life. 
We turn now to the pleasurable task 
of bearding this issue's contributors. Al- 
though the photos on this page may 
look like penciled-up subway posters, we 
assure you all that face fur is for real. 
‘The most recently whiskered of the 
lot is Walt Grove, author of our lead 
fiction, The Tie that Binds. Hav 
tossed away his razor a little over a yt 
ago, he now attests: “Beards are great for 
parties; toward the end of the ev 
many ladies want to know how it fe 


NEIMAN 


FIEDLER 


they should be allowed that privilege.” 
Leslie Fiedler who, in Americans Go 
Home, cloquently accounts for our ex- 
odus in reverse, tells us that he has raised 
three beards in the past 20 years — the 
first two while living in China and Italy 
and the third (a home-grown variety) 
while teaching at Princeton six years 
ago. He is now a professor of English 
Literature at Montana State Uni 
While no longhair, shaggy Shel 
stein waxes appropriately poctic this 
month with a new collection of laugh- 
able livestock Silverstein’s Zoo. Shel 
insists that these improbable creatures 
sprang from his head — not his beard. 
When artist LeRoy Neiman aban- 
doned his beard several ycars ago, he 
could not bring himself to part with the 
imposing brush on his upper lip- But 
was an even more distinguished brush 
that won him a Gold Medal last year in 
the Salon d'Art Moderne in Paris and 
raised the price of his canvases to over 
$3000 each. With this month's Man at 
his Leisurely view of Monte Carlo swell- 
ing our collection of Ncimans to over 
250, we can (and do) boast the world's 
largest collection of his works. 
Clean-shaven lan Fleming puts James 
Bond through several close shaves Ц 
month in the second installment of On 
Her Majestys Secret Service, the first 
Bond thriller ever to debut a maga- 
zinc. Fleming, who sccludes himself in a 
Jam: away for two months each 
winter, then miraculously emerges with 
a new Bond book, tells us that he bor- 
rowed his hero's simple yet. rugged name 
from a volume called Birds of the West 
Indies by, of course, James Bond. 
of the name Malcolm X 
is revealed in the introduction to our 
Playboy Interview with that outspoken 
spokesman of the implacable Black Mus- 
lims, to whose politics and policies we 
are unequivocally opposed. A postcard 
he sent us shortly after we conducted the 


The ori, 


SILVERSTEIN GROVE 


interview provided a capsule insi 
the views he expressed. The message on 
the card, sent from Phoenix, Arizon 
read simply, “Greetings from the middle 
of the Desert. X." On the other side 
was а color photo of а coiled rattlesnake 
— poised to strike. On а conuastingly 
egal itor-Publisher Hugh 
M. Hefner continues his exploration of 
contemporary society and PLAYBOY'S part 
in i this issue he further analyzes 
U.S. Puritanism and the problems of 
obscenity and censorship. 

“The study of battles, treaties and 
triple ententes,” avers William Iversen, 
‘reveals far less of historical Man than a 
knowledge of the kinds of britches he 
wore, the oaths he swore, the baths he 
took and the jigs he danced.” With this 
in mind, Iversen, whose Short Histories 
of pants, money, swearing and bathing 
have all appeared in PLAYBOY, now 
offers a lightly fantastic Short History of 
Dancing. 

There's a bit of history behind Food 
and Drink Editor Thomas Mario's Chop- 
Chop Chinese Fare which stems, accord- 
ing to "Tom. from the San Francisco 
restaurant strike of several years ago. “I 
had traveled by train all the way from 
New York to San Francisco for a bus 
man's holiday in the city's great Conti- 
nental restaurants,” he recalls, “But the 
strike started the day I arrived and every 
noted bistro — except the Chinese restau- 
rants on Grant Street — was shut down. 
Ever since, I've been gathering material 
from one of the world’s greatest cuisines.” 

There is much more in store, includ- 
ing another chapter of Shepherd Mcad's 
How to Succeed with Women, a fine 
memoir by Ben Hecht and another story 
by T. K. Brown III. 

Note to those whose letters helped us 
break the three-way tie for our Playmate 
of the Year: we offer our thanks in the 
fine form of a four-page photo session 
with the winner— June Cochran. 


Live Femlin 


Sponish Accent b. 11 


iat 


Playmate Winner Р. 118 


Silverstein's Zoo P. 106 


GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY BUILDING, 232 E 
AGE NUST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS 
RETURNED AND NO RESPONSIBILITY CAN BE ASSUMED 
FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIALS. CONTENTS COPY 
тектер © 1963 GY нин PUBLISHING со. mc 
NOTHING MAY BE REPRINTED in WHOLE OR IN PART 
WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE тїп. 
USHER. ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE PEOPLE AND 
ARTHUR PAUL. FEMLIN SCULPTURE BY AUSTIN FOX. 
JERRY YULSMAN. INGVARD HENRY EIDE. BRONSTEIN. 
SAUNDERS; P. 76.79 PRINTS AND PROTOS COURTESY 
TURES; P. 96400 HAIRSTHLES BY SHEARS AND 
CHEERS: P. 105 COPYRIGHT © 1963 BY BEN HECHT, 


LISHED MONTHLY зу нин PUBLISHING ce. mc.. 1. 
NATIONAL AND REGIONAL EDITIONS. PLAYBOY BUILD. 
ING, 237 E. OMO ST.. CHICAGO 11, Mi. ste. 
OND CLASS POSTAGE PAID AT CHIKAGO, ILLINOIS 
SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE U.S., $6 FOR ONE YEAR 


vol. 10, no. 5 — may, 1963 


CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


PLAYBILL е з 
DEAR PLAYBOY... — > 7 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS... — = — | 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR... 3 : — арй 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: MALCOLM X—candid conversation... 
THE PLAYBOY PHILOSOPHY: PART SIX—edii HUGH M. HEFNER 65 
THE TIE THAT BINDS—fiction WALT GROVE 74 
A SHORT HISTORY OF DANCING—orticle — WILLIAM IVERSEN. 
THE FEMLIN COMES TO LIFE—pictoriol. ——— 

AMERICANS GO HOME—article. Е LESLIE A. FIEDLER 
ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE—novel JAN FLEMING 
CHOP-CHOP CHINESE FAE -f = THOMAS MARIO 92 
GUILELESS CHARMER—ployboy’s playmate of the month... 
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor...... 
THE BUM—mem: BEN HECHT 105 
SILVERSTEIN'S ZOO—sotire, -- SHEL SILVERSTEIN 106 
SPANISH ACCENT—a! Е ROBERT L GREEN 111 
MAN WITH A PAST—fietion т. К. BROWN I 115 


102 


PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR—pictorial._. 118 
MONTE CARLO—men at his leisure... m 122 
A POINT OF Au bela clossic........ JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE 127 
ON THE SCENE—personolities. ب‎ „ 


HOW TO HANDLE MONEY IN MARRIAGE—sai 
LOVE POEM—satire es J 
LITTLE ANNIE FANNY—sotire HARVEY KURTZMAN und WILL ELDER 196 
PLAYBOY'S INTERNATIONAL РАТЕВООК—тгауе!..................... PATRICK CHASE 198 


е SHEPHERD MEAD 131 


поси м. HEFNER editor and publisher 
A. с. SPECVORSKY associate publisher and editorial director 
ARTHUR PAUL art director 
xT T, TAJIRI picture editor 


JACK J. Ki 


managing editor 


JEREMY DOLE, MURRAY FISHER, TOM LOWNIS, SHELDON WAX associate 
DAVID TAYLOR associate fashion editor; 


FRANK DE BLOF 
editors; ROUERT L. GREEN fashion director; 
mosas MARIO food & drink editor; PATRICK CHASE [ravel. edilor; J. PAUL GETTY 
consulting editor, business and finance; CHARLES BEAUMONT, RICHARD GEHMAN, PAUL 
Tk. KEN W, FURDY contributing editors: STAN AMBER сору editor; RAY WILLIAMS 
assistant editor; BEV CHAMBERLAIN associate. picture editor; BONNIE BOVIK assistant 
picture editor; bes  WRONSTLIN, MARIO CASILLA, FOMPEO TOSAR, JERRY YULSMAN 
май photographers; FRANK. ECK, SYAN MALINOWSKI contributing photographers; 
urin AUSTIN associate art director; PHILIP KAPLAN, JOSEPH. H. PACZER assistant art 
directors; WALTER KRADENVCH, ELLEN PACZEK art ‘assistants; JOHN MASTRO firo- 
^. HEARTEL assistant production manager • HOWARD 
LEDERER advertising director; JULES kase eastern advertising manager; 10: 
FALL midwestern advertising manager; jostrm GUENTHER Detroit. advertising 
manager; NELSON roren promotion director; WAN CZUNAK promotion art director 
HELMUT 10 ci publicity manager; вехху DUNN public relations manager; 
ANSON MOUNT college bureau; тико FREDERICK personnel direclor: JANET PILGRIM 
reader service; WALTER помелаты subscription fulfillment man эх 
SELLERS special projects; ROBERT PREUSS business manager and circulation director. 


everything 


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Daroff "Personal Touch". But what is really new is the amazing Fortrel polyester fiber, 
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See the Botanaire suit now, at one of our franchised dealers. For name of nearest dealer, write H. Deroff, 
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surf side / ‘FOUR STRIPER” 
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for sun lovers anywhere! 


DEAR PLAYBOY 


EJ] appress PLAYBOY MAGAZINE . 232 E. OHIO ST., CHICAGO 11, ILLINOIS 


PLAYBOY PRO AND CON 

1 am the father of young children and 
to be terse and cryptic, I would like to 
say the magazine in my opini 
lowest type of pornography 
utterly disgusting, repreher 
defen 
letter! 


le and i 
ible. 1 dare you to publish this 


Randolph Scott 
Beverly Hills, Californ 
OK, Scotty. In exchange for the priv- 
ilege of printing your comments, we're 
sending you a free copy of “The Little 
Red Hen,” since suitability jor children 
seems to be your criterion for judging a 
magazine labeled on its cover, “Enter- 
lainment for Men.” Do you exempl your- 
self from that company? 


Whether or not you publish this letter 
is of no consequence. Its purpose is 
simply to oller a few thoughts and fecl- 
ngs about your magazine and clubs. 
First, to lend some background to my 
comments, I am a 26-yearold teacher of 
English at а private preparatory school. 
1 was bom and raised in Chicago (on the 
le); 1 attended a small liberal 
arts college in Wisconsin; then two years’ 
work for a Master of Arts degree in New 
Haven; finally, summer study for the 
doctorate in Evanston. During the regi 
r school year, I teach young men and 
young women, and coach football, bas- 
ketball and baseball. I mention all this 
lor the purpose of pointing out that my 
education. has been extensive but not 
rcgional; I am in education but take an 
active part in athletics; and finally, while 
my background may not be an average 
опе, I am by no means a special case. 
lam certain that there are hundreds of 
thousands of young men such as myself 
who are established in an honorable pro- 
fession, happily married and leading a 
full and meaningful life. I am equally 
ny of these men, as 1 do, 
w your magazine and your clubs 
being first-rate in all respects. There h. 
been a tendency to stereotype those who 
read PLAvHoy and/or frequent your 
clubs. Supposedly, this "playboy" relishes 
ps as a substitute for normal, 
Ithy relationships with the opposite 
sex; he pores through the magazine 
the hope of deriving vicarious pleasure, 


while identifying himself with the male 
models posed in Ivy League clothing. 
He goes to the clubs to leer at the 
Bunnies; he is disappointed when the 
comics cntertaining him arc not off-color. 
In short, this supposed stereotype is a 
frustrated hedonist in search of “kicks 
the magazine and Jor clubs are his only 
hope, his only outlet. On behalf of those 
who admire ( appreciate“ might be a 
better word) beauty in the female form, 
on behaif of those who enjoy well-written 
prose and hard-hitting commentaries, on 
behalf of those who value good food, 
good drink and good entertainment at a 
reasonable price, 1 salute your excellent 
magazine and clubs. Someone once said 
that beauty is in the eye of the beholder; 
the same might be said for lechery, avar- 
ice and lust. Frankly, I have become 
convinced that much of the criticism of 
your magazine and clubs reveals more 
about the critic than the object. 
Robert A. Morris 
Kent, Connecticut 


Amen. 


FRANK TALK 

I read with amazement the extraor- 
dinary interview with Frank Sinatra 
(rtAvmov, February 1963). Although I 
ways admired him as ап artist I 
never knew to what depth his emotions 
were running 


Monique Van Vooren 
New York, New York 


I was entranced, enthralled and amazed 
at the depth of Frank Sinatra's philoso- 
phy. 105 so close to my own in most 
respects, it fairly had me jumping with 
excitement. From rather disliking the 
guy, I find I now admire him. However, 
1 am rather suspicious. Is he really that 
intelligent? That is, are those quotes 
actually verbatim? 


Clyde J. Knight 
Chicago, Illinois 
Verbatim, Clyde. 


What a distinct pleasure it was to read 
your Sinatra interview instead of the 
cious, malicious garbage usually swilled 
out by bedroom snoopers, sensationalists, 
1 people who are just downright c 


us. 1 found his opinions interesting 
erer, wavs tse, sot: wo, mo, э, TUFLGHED MONTHLY тү Wi PUBLISNING COMPANY, INC., error BUILDING, 
гє, ONIO ST., CHICAGO 1, ILLINOIS- SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE U. 5., та POSSESSIONS, THE PAN AMERICAN UNION AND 


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ONE YEAR. ELSEWHERE ADD 43 PER YEAR FOR FOREIGN POSTAGE 

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PLAYBOY, 231 Е. Он ST., CHICAGO M. ILLINOIS, AND ALLOW зо DAYS FOR CHANGE. ADVI 
EASTERN ADVERTISING MANAGER, 

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and enlightening, and respect him for 
obviously opening himself up to much 
abuse. 
Jack Cohen 
Brooklyn, New York 


Alter recent interviews with Miles 
nd Fr: natra (both eminent 
authorities on race issues and world 
airs), how about Ambassador Adlai 
Stevenson on the valve trombone or 
Winston Churchill on driving at high 
speeds in a sports-car rally? 

Morgan T. Higgins 

Easton, Pennsylvania 


I thought your parody of the banal 
Liberal using Frank Sinatra as your 
rototype — was a scream. | was espe 
y amused by that part where you 
have him say, "Now don't gct me wrong. 
I'm for decency— period.” Lets have 
more humor like t 

- R. W. Sundmacher 
Dearborn, Michigan 


I must compliment you on your 
interview with Frank Sinatra. I doubt 


that any other publ п would have 
printed his remarks on religion and 1 

ertainly respect Mr. Sinatra for having 
the strength of his own convictions and 


speaking out for what he believes. As he 
, the psychopathic groups might well 
picket him for suggesting that religion 
docs not have a monopoly on decency 
and honesty. 
Mortimer "Theodore Coli 
New York, New York 


That boy has a philosophic insight 
‚ a keen mind, a gene 
and, above all—a 
storehouse of guts. Surely, for every sup- 
porter who deserts : 

ons, two or more will join 


As one responsibly involved in organ- 
ized religion, | was not so much im- 
pressed by Sinatra's attacks on such 
(much he says is true, some is irrespon- 
sible shadowboxing) as 1 was utterly 
fascinated with what hc calls his “vidicu- 
lously simple" solution to the problem of 
ism. Few multimillion- 
would have the guts to say in one 
the answer to Communist 
to “get rid of the condi- 
tions that nurture it. .. Poverty is prob- 
ably the gr asset the Communists 
ind then the next tell us we 
c onc another— "I mcan 


ngdom on the line 
with half of his in 


for him to match 


{АЛ Б 


Photographed on Rannoch Moor, Scotland by “21” Brands 


What does Scotland’s moody climate have 
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Scotland's climate is an odd combination of weather con- 
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At Dumbarton, саКеп barrels of Ballantine's lie racked in 
the aging sheds. Heavy mists from the nearby River Clyde 


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PLAYBOY 


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order that something can be done about 
this problem. Perhaps we сап aid the 
California migrant worker, the sup- 
pressed southern Negro, or the impover 
America. Will Frank deal? 
talk turkey, not trivia"? 
Rev. Duke Robinson 
Presbyterian Minister 
Walnut Creck, California 


ished of La 
Will Fi 


Thank you for the unusual interview 
with Frank Sinatra. It made me happy to 
discover the literate, liberal and rational 
side of this famous artist 

R. N. Jaroudi 
Brigham City, Utah 


I have watched with interest over the 
few years as your magazine has 
matured to fill a previously glaring void 
in the American society. Quite likely the 
society has also matured to a point 
where a magazine such as PLAYBOY can 
attain the dominant position in the field 
that it has. 
аге to be commended for your 
tion of the Sinatra interview in 
your February issue. If the American 
nation, which has for many years bene- 
fited from his entertainment prowess, 
possessed his degree of insight, we would 
not be handicapped by the hypociisy 
which has been a part of our heritage 
longer than the freedoms we enjoy. I 
hope this interview will help dispel the 
grossly inaccurate image which the press 
has created of Mr. tra. 

Glenn D. Frederick 

Costa Mesa, California 


TONI A TONIC 

The February Playmate, Toni Ann 
my daughter. T would like to 
casilli did а wonderful 
job with Toni's pictures. I don't know 
which one is the best — the gatcfold or 
the head shot in the car. We have re 
ceived 400 to 500 letters here at the house 
and most everyone was so very nice and 
complimentary. 

We were amazed when the mail started 
to come. Cornell, Dartmouth and Col- 
gate all ted her to their Winter 
nivals to be one of the Queens. Th: 
you for the wonderful feature you did 
on Toni. 


Miss Febru 


reared gi 


y is obviously а well- 


Bert Krugel 
Ottawa, Ontario 


Which way to West Covina? Miss Toni 
Ann Thomas is your all-time best, As an 
architecture student, I'm continually 
confronted with problems involving 
shape aud form. Miss Thomas is a splen- 
did solution to many of these problems. 

W. D. Thomas 
Eugene. Oregon 


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PLAYBOY 


12 


Ае First Kamily of Comedy 


They're exclusively on Verve, where it all began. And what a gallery! There's Shelley Berman (A), 
whose wit has catapulted him into the ranks of America’s top entertainers. He has NEW SIDES 
(V-15036), an all-fresh collection of hilarious Bermania. Big Brother Jonathan Winters (8) is 
watching everybody everywhere! His unique humor ranges from the Midwest to planets and people 
as yet undiscovered. Like in HUMDR SEEN THRDUGH THE EYES OF JONATHAN WINTERS 
(V-15035), for instance. And look at Phyllis Diller (C). mother of us all: one of the few truly great 
women stand-up comics. Are you ready for ARE YOU READY FOR PHYLLIS DILLER? (V-15031), 
a grab-bag of inspired nonsense? And we must call attention to Jackie Mason (D), our son the 
laughmaker. His Bronx-accented observations on life in the 20th Century can split even the 
soberest sides. Note | WANT TO LEAVE YOU WITH THE WORDS OF A GREAT COMEDIAN 
„..ЈАСКІЕ MASON (V-15034). 


The Wit of America is on VERVE RECORDS 


Verve Records is a division of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Inc. 


Every issue of PLAYBOY amazes me in 
its ability to better the 
However, 
1 don't bel 
February's Toni 
not without a mir: 


anks to you 


and Miss Thomas for the good show 
Beau Holloway 
Boulder, Colorado 


lustrated aptly by the 
ез of the Month for January and 
February. While the younger readers of 
PLAYBOY can hardly complain about this 
idolatry of their own generation, it must 
be unnerving for others when confronted 
by scenes of these suddenly grown-up 
teenagers invading the rel; 
world of playgrounds and st 


the physical Чиа oi hég Play ates. 
It seems to us that you have caused the 
destruction of the first image presented 
with the introduction of the second. We 
would be disappointed to sec the adult 
sophistication of your magazine (indeed, 
it is the only one which retains this 
property without the usual accompany- 
ing vulgarity) sacrificed for the patronage 
of the teenage minority who read it. 
M. E. Smith, Faculty of Science 
R. D. Anderton, Faculty of 2 
University of British Columt 
Vancouver, British Columbi 


THINK RICH 

J. Paul Geuy’s January ан 
Millionaive Mentality. like 
Getty's 
rereading 


le, aie 


g ка 


c Mr. Getty 
bring to the surface the truth that too 
many men capable of cost consciousness 
nd profirmindedness keep these abi 
ties under a cloak while on a straight 
salary. Apparently they themselves have 
to be cut into a percentage of the profits 
to spur them to exert their best efforts. 

This is an unfortunate attitude. Putting 
one's best efforts into а job, regardless 
of current salary, always pays more in 
the long run. Many a potentially good 
man has undoubtedly held himself back 
by having had such a blind spot. 

С. M. Loch 

Hutton & Company 
New York, New York 


There is no question but, without 
regard to success, the closer expenses 
come to alfecting one’s pocketbook, the 
more interested is that individual in 
minating them— that, of cour 
why more and more corpor 
offering incentive plans and that is as 
it should be. The individual and the 
corporation both gain. 
Out of four executives who undertook 
to run a company that I owned, L found 


ations аге 


The intrepid seeker of new worlds to 
conquer does well to dress the part. Most 
favorable tack is the old ‘‘soft-sell’!..as 


evidenced by the latest h.i.s sport jackets. 
A muted mood holds sway. The patterns: 


wolves in the woods are wearing h 


16 E.34 SE NEWYORI 


seemly and subdued. (Our hero, hardly!) 
For further delectable browsing amid 
paths sartorial: consider the entire range 
of feather-light, flap-pocket, natural- 
shoulder authentics on the h.i.s jacket 


scene. A spice-of-life variety includes 
washable “Dacron”’ polyester blends, au- 
thentic India bleeding Madras, cotton 
seersuckers ...only $14.95 to $29.95 
at stores that feature the h.i.s* label. 
Г] 


{ S sport jackets 


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PLAYBOY 


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14 


that the man most. successful at the job 
never failed to turn out ап unnccessa 
light, close a door letting in cold air, etc. 
He always took advantage of every pos- 
sible opportunity to save money. Mr. 
Сепуз reference to the mil 
^ntality coincides complete 
own experience and shows cle: 


ly enough 
why aman may or may not be successful 
in his business life. 1 w 
of The Millionaire Mentality could be 
widely distributed to young men about 
to enter business. 

Allan P. Ki 

Morristown, New Jersey 


I found The Millionaire Mentality in- 
tlligent and thoughtprovoking. Tt is 
heartwarming to note that an apprecia- 
tion of the innovating efforts of em- 
plovees might be found in top manage- 


iy presently a student of Indus- 
trial Distribution at Clarkson College 
northern. New York, my contacts. wi 
lustry have been quite 
ing worked for the state and Federal 
overnments including a three-year tour 
in the Army, I have been impressed by 
the fact that top management there does 
not look for advancement in the sense 
which you point out. I was once told, 
when the opportunity of saving approxi- 
mately $10,000 а year presented itself in 
my small military oi that by 
not spending the money outright, our 
appropriations for the coming усаг 
would be cut. The commander went ou 
to tell me not to try to save. but to just 
do my job and leave the savings up to 
Washington. Thus, | w їп effect, 
reprim to save the 


Christmas vacations workin 
Post Office, T sily see what Mr. 
Getty means about a Postal Clerk atti- 
tude. Morc than one week of that life 
would drive me insane. 
Robert N. Andres 
Potsdam, New York 


VIRGIN STAND 

I picked up my February issue of your 
magazine on the way to a plane bound 
for St. Thomas. As soon as 1 was seated, 
1 got it out and gratified my male 
curiosity about the Playmate, then 
thumbed the mag to sce what else thc 
issue held of interest. 

1 was stopped by that picture of a 
man bets he beach, 
turned the page to see whether by 
unlikely coincidence, you had an article 
all about my destination. I read it with 
fascination, as you can ima Spec- 
torsky can really make you feel that you 
have a genuine insight into a place. 

o get to the point, 1 am just back 
from two absolutely socko wi in 
Those American Virgins and can testify 


en two nudes on 


' р 

Photos by Ted Allan, A . 
Hor S x 

When a Formal "steals the scene" . . it must be fter Ine 


And actor Tony Bill selects a sure-fire scene stealer . . . the "Playboy" dinner jacket. It's an After Six "natural" for 
the young-man-about-town!...A perfect performer, in cool, comfortable "Dacron"* polyester and Comiso rayon 
with an elegant bengaline weave. About $37.50. Other dinner jackets from $29.95 to $69.95 (slightly hig 
West and in Canada). 


er in the 


TONY BILL CO-STARS WITH FRANK SINATRA IN THE ESSEX-TANDEM PRODUCTION "COME BLOW 
YOUR HORN." A PARAMOUNT RELEASE. HIS "DATE," CAROLE WELLS. IS FEATURED IN THE SAME FILM. 


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“= [like your suit 
it must be Wool 


To hold her attention, wear the cool lightweight wool suit with the amazing new 
plus. Permanent but natural trouser crease that will never cease." How does she 
know it's wool? By the great cut of the suit. No other fabric tailors like pure 
wool. Wear the weightless wool worsted Sunfoil suit by Timely Clothes, $80.00. 
The Wool Bureau, Inc, 360 Lexington Avenue, New York 17. Certification Mark TIMELY E3 CLOTHES 


that Speetorsky 
the travel 


as handily topped all 
ides and brochures tha 
Fd armed myself with. He not only 
conveys the “feel” of the Virgins, but 
while doing so he out the most 
solid, thorough, dependable and useful 
information that a man could ask for. 
Its a rare thi 
ning combinatio: 
ide to wh 


пісе 
t to do and where to 
was 100-percent 
on the nose all the way. I don't th 
I've ever enjoyed a vacation more, and 
I think I owe thanks to PLAYBOY as 
much as to those heavenly islands. 

Paul Perrin 

G arrington, Massachusetts 


Having been to the 
know they 


gin Islands, 1 
e indeed beautiful and 
have abundant opportunities for nude 
bathing but not for the kind of queer 
your picture shows. With a nude girl by 
each hand this character wears а cap 

and trunks. 
The moonlight picture has a girl with 
all her charms exposed while the hero 
vrist watch, I have never been 


Aun Fleming 
Chicago. Illinois 


A pox on you, your photos and your 
prose. E refer specifically to that article 
on the Virgin Islands. 1 was all set 10 
revisit the glorious Southwest and now 
I'm up to my you-know-what, changing 
plans to go to Those American Virgins 
id. 1 should sue you and I will, if 
don’t live up to what you printed. 
if 1 can’t find those two girls to 
h, you've had it. 

‘Ted Mallon 
до. Illinois 


ay that А. C. Spectorsky has tal- 
ent is to understate the case. Suavity, 
skill, vividness and fun are beautifully 
blended in authorship. II Those 
American Virgins, which | have long 
loved, ever needed a laureate, they do 
so no longer. 


Sven Eric. Gundarson 
New York, New York 


I read A. C. Spectorsky's article on 
ihe Islands and agree whole- 
heartedly with everything he wrote. 1 


st come back from spe a 
down there and your article 
brought back a strong urge to pack up 
and go back again. 
There is one sm 
did not men 


1l detail which you 

That was the gut- 
loosc landing at the St. 4 
airport between those two mountains 
and all the while being buffeted by air 
currents off the water and mountain 


There was a time when practically any import was 
re with the sophisticated set. French furniture, 
English woolens, Scotch and Canadian whiskey. But today 
anew pride in things native is evidenced by the rise in pop- 
ularity of fine Kentucky bourbon. Old Crow for instance. 


sure- 


Folks are learning to choose their whiskey not on the 
basis of an import stamp—but on how good it tastes. And 
for a long time now, Kentucky, U.S.A. has produced the 
tastiest whiskey in the world...bourbon! 


In the South and the West it has long been known that 
“bourbon and branch” (“branch”—grass roots for cool, 
pure water) has always been the natural thing for a thirsty 
man to order. Now you hear it ordered all over the country. 
Good old-fashioned taste appeal has done it. 


Leading the trend is the greatest name in 
bourbon—Old Crow. Old Crow comes highly rec- 
ommended to our present generation by men like 
DANIEL WEBSTER and ANDREW JACKSON. 
Today, it is the favorite bourbon of the nation. 
Won't you try it? 


OLD 
CROW 


Kentucky Bourbon 


THE OLO GROW OISTILLING CO., FRANKFORT, KY. KENTUCKY STRAIGHT BOURBON WHISKEY, B6 PROOF 


17 


PLAYBOY 


18 


RENFIELD IMPORTERS, LTD., N. Y. 


IMPORTED EXTRA DRY VERMOUTH 


MARTINI: ROSSI 


OUTSIDE THE U.S. AND CANADA 


ws U ОШ 


sides. I've done quite a bit of flying but 
landing on St. Thomas was the most 
nerve-racking landing ever. Other than 
that your article described to a T every- 
thing 1 found on the Islands. 
Richard L. Simpson 
Oakville, Ontario 
Spec says his landing and take-off were 
as smooth as а Virgin Islands! rum 


collins, 


TANNTALIZING 
I think your February issue set some 

sort of record. The 19 cartoons in its 
pages elicited trom deep within me no 
fewer than 19.217 loud and piercing 
laughs, 2.265 chortles, 18 giggles and one 
snicker. Most of them were delivered 
upon sccing the work of the fellow who 
signs his drawings “Tann.” He is truly 
great, and only a notch below Gah 
Wilson, to whom I pray thric* daily 
Shoemaker and Shel Silverstein were at 
their usual best. Don't you people ever 
stop getting better? 

Howard R. Cohen, Editor 

Aardvark Magazine 

Chicago, Ilinois 


n 


Nope. 


PLAYBOY’S PHILOSOPHY 

A thousand olés, the full count of cars, 
tail and hooves, and vuellas till vou 
drop! Hugh Hefners Playboy Philoso 
phy is a clean estocada, delivered with 
utmost style and craft. Manolete him- 
self could not have done better at killing 
the "bull". bred, 


aised, groomed and 
presented to the sword by the pseudo. 
pious, the hypocrites and the Puritans of 
our society 

Ben Thaer 

San Francisco, California 


The third part of Hugh М. Hefner's 
editorial. The Playboy Philosophy (Feb 
тиагу 1963). is the best vet. The manner 
in which Mr. Hefner is presenting his 
philosophy of life is both entertaining 
and convincing. More! More! 

Е. C. Claycomb, Jr 
Fairfield, Тока 


This letter is long overdue, as 1 have 
been a faithful reader for many years 
In fact, pravuoy is the only magazine 
that I read cover to cover. I used to buy 
й on the newsstands, but two missed 
issues while | was out of the country 
have made me a subscriber. While there 
is obviously more that is meni 
come, thus far 1 find myself in aj 
with all you've said in The Playboy 
Philosophy. must applaud your cour 


age in printing controversial articles and 
boldly stating opinions which many hold 
but won't talk about. Your magazine 
describes many desirable aspects of life 
— vou show many of the good things 
that are attainable in our world for those 
who have the courage to take some risks 


COLUMBIA 


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The warm and winning 
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Andy sings such show- 
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and Roses, My Coloring 
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The magnetic Mathis 
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PLAYBOY 


eee ee сыы 


Whats the 
difference between 
a pearl diver 
and a smart diner? 


The pearl diver comes up w 
pea t diners can 
always end up with a pearl—a 
Cointreau On-The-Rocks Pearl. 
Its the new way to enjoy Cointreau 
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aud put forth some effort. Perfect se 
curity can be found in any prison if one 
is willing to surrender his freedom. Se- 
curity combined with freedom сап be 
had only by follow 
‹ 


arely have | 
The Play- 
boy Advisor and 1 have learned many 
things from it. | admire your frankness 
and honesty. 


te. Incidentally 


disagreed with 


Boyd L. M 
Los Angeles, 


hers, Ph. D. 
California 


10 is with regret that 1 must cancel my 
subscription to vn. I have enjoyed 
your magazine for several years, but 
become increasingly disturbed to. 


des and editorial coment le 
ther and further 10 the "left" Your 
political views are ruining what [ once 


considered a delightful magazine. You 
have joined the ranks with Look, Life 
d similar journals. This is a pity. 
The portion of The Playboy Philoso 
phy titled “The Invisible М 
1963) was disgusting to me and il this 
is eLaynoy’s philosophy then I want no 
рап of it. 

It has been my practice in the past to 
award subscriptions to the leading sales- 
men in my office, You may rest assured 
that this practice will discontinue effec 
tive immediately. 


James W. Hill 
Richmond. Virginia 
We regret your cancellation, too, James, 
but we cannot serve two masters — our 
own conscience and the demands of 
those who crave spoon-fed, apolitical, 
pointless status quoatmeal. As for our 
"left" leanings, we will reiterate here 
what we had thought was abundantly 
clear: we are against any kind of totali- 
tarian group-think, whether it be of the 
right or the left persuasion. 


Your editorial brings rather 
sively to light the assumption 

vrAvnoY is the spokesman for the url 
educated male. In actual luct, it appeals 
(in much of the fiction and all of the 
photographs) to the adolescent voyeur 
Ct so prominent in th ally 
adolescent American male. This urge to 
look without bi seen, rather than to 
experience, is a 1 pant of our 


that 


sick society, and your financial success 
is strictly due to a recognition of th 


act, which makes your 
tensions seem even sillier 
y really are 
John R. Garrett 
Department of. History 
Jolins Hopkins University 
Baltimore, Maryland 
There's nothing necessarily voycuris- 
tic in the ability to appreciate photo- 
graphs of beautiful women and no 
that PLAYBOY re- 
places the interpersonal relationships of 
everyday living jor its readers. To the 


indication whatever 


ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN 
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21 


PLAYBOY 


22 


Give her a 
castle in Spain 


Paper: Mate 


anda 


pen 


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contrary. every evidence supports the 
contention thal тулуу prompis a 
greater involvement in our society and 
that the depersonalized, syrup-swret. 
antisexnal view of life we so vigorously 
oppose is responsible for the immaturity 
and hypocrisy from which our soviet 


suffers. 


I have read your second installment ol 
The Playboy Philosophy (Jumuny 106% 
and find your attempt at historical anah- 
sis to be as disorderly and superficial as 
your other ellorts. One phrase, used. at 
the very beginning of your unrcasoned 
i rly annoyed me. You 
speak of "witch-burning 
and forget that there re: 
in the [7th Century. Witches i 
sense that there were persous who pre 
tended to skill in the necromantic art. 
and really believed in their powers, And 
by the way. in the interest of historical 
accuracy, no witches were ever burnt 
nywhere in America. They were hanged. 


Puritanism” 


the 


Your males are urbane, but. they аге 
not gentlemen, May I suggest a few 


hours with Edmund Burke so that you 
may discov his 
life.” As Russell Kirk 
likely to “save us from social boredom 
than all the schemes for 
"consumership? and c new appe 
es in Sybaris.” Bluenosedly v 
Robert Stamps 

Cranford, New Jersey 

In the interest of editorial as well as 
historical accuracy, Bob, Puritanism was 
born in Europe. not America, and the 
phrase “witch-burning Puritanism” re- 
ferred to the puritanical tradition. that 
many carly American colonists brought 
with them from the old world; in Eu 
rope, religious zealots burned, tortured 


a". 


heretics and 


and mained itches,” 
many who simply expressed an attitude 
or view of life with which the fanatics 
did nol agree; in America, as we ob 
served in the March editorial, the tech- 
niques were subtler — if hanging can be 
considered subtle. 

Your apparent 


lingness to condone 


these atrovities, on the basis that there 
were some in the 17th Century who 
really considered. themselves “witches,” 
is more than a “disorderly and super 
ficial" analysis i fantastic, In the 
sense thal you are using the word, we 
have n great many "wilches" in society 
today, too; we place them in menial 
hospitals, care for, and try to cure, them 
If we were all as enlightened and as 
much of a “gentleman” as you would 
apparently prefer, we could save ow 
selves a great deal of time, effort and 
money by simply disposing of them with 
a match, 


Bravo for The Playboy Philosophy and 
thank you, for you have helped me to 
make a very important dec 


n in my 


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Siighty 
en 


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23 


PLAYBOY 


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life. 1 have just reached the 
already have settled in a rut with a sale 
and undemanding job. with a small sal 
ary and no responsibility whatever. And 
I was satisfied, because it was a secure 
job and a secure Ше, but now I know 
that it isn't enough, that 1 can do morc 
and better things than what I am doi 
today. D may never come near to obi 
in —1 may fail completely 
but at least Iwill know that E have tried 
What more can a person ask or do? 

Alan Heydon 

Kansas City, Missouri 


ge of 20 and 


mv 


For this reader, at least. The Playboy 
Philosophy ollers a more robust. stimu 
attitude toward life than most of 
the academic and velig 


lating 


us doctrines. 


however “existential” they may daim 10 
bc. Reading the January issue helped 
lift me from a morass of disillusioned 
thoughts about life and its meaning to a 
new and ardent longing to live — and jsf 
to live — to “love lile more than the 
meaning of as Dostoicvsky once said. 
It is in spreadi 
utitude. I thir 
merit lies and I stand ready to attest to 
its success in reviving the spark of ex- 
istence. if only in myself. I can but hope 
that Mr. Hefner's philosophy will reach 
enough people in time so that there still 
will be a life left for mankind to live. 

S. С. Thatcher 

Princeton Ul 

Princeton, New Jersey 


x this wonderfully healthy 
that PLAYBOY'S greatest 


niversity 


Don't vou think that January issue was 
just a little too thick with the egotism? 
Fun is fun. and I enjoy your light out- 
look on ly dreary world, but vou 
know s | that science has proven 
that our mentality is potentially equal to 
yours. Our physical strength per pound 
of body weight is equal to yours. It is 
society that says men lead and no myst 
rious gift of nature. It's OK by me — l'm 
accustomed to it. but don't carry а good 
thing too far. Not only do you place us 
beside your Scotch bottle (in an other 


as well 


wise intelligent article), but you refus 


us the right to prove any ability in “vou” 
business world. To say we have no rie! 
to be anything more than а body clamor 
ing at your bedroom door is the most 
nauseous. egocentric philosophy ever put 
before the public. 1 am 20 years old. T 


have a body and a face to help me 
through these gay years, but Tabo hanc 
three years of college education behind 


me and по one is going to tell me that a 
well-cut Brooks Brothers suit is all T need 
to be a complete woman. 
Lynda Williams 
Boston, Massachusetts 
Mentality and body weight not with 
standing. Lynda, you're mighty confused 
if you believe that PLAYBOY considers 


women nothing mare than a leisuretime 


accessory like a sports car or a bottle of 


The Cube: а blunt 
answer to the question, 
“Isn’t there anything 
new in men’s shoes?” 


What did we do that clicked so quickly 
from campus to club car? We “CUBED” 
the toe, created a totally new style trend 
in shoes for men: The Cube. Shown: the 
trim black blucher; blunt in front. 


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This style is made with new “Living” 
Leather uppers,the miracle leather that 
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Most Johnsonian styles, less than $10. 


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27 


PLAYBOY 


28 


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cents more, and worth il. ©1963 P. Lorillard Co. 


(ч) 


Not all girls will faint with joy when you use igs Men. (Some of them have 
terrific staying power.) So for a man who just wants an after shave lotion that 
freshens the face, relaxes taut skin, smoothes scrapes, heals nicks, kills infec- 
tious bacteria and stops razor rash dead—Kings Men is the natural choice. Splash 
some on your face tomorrow morning. You'll get a few girls out of it, too! 


scs шше нене KINGS MEN 


Scotch simply because some of our critics 
say it’s so. It is this very nonsense that 
prompled the writing of “The Playboy 
Philosophy,” to spell ош the things that 
PLAYBOY really docs belicve in. We 
haven't gotten to the American woman 
and her relationship to the American 
man yet, bul never fear. we will. We're 
purposely saving the best till last. 

We've never suggested that you were 
nothing morc than a body clamoring at 
our bedroom door — however, you're wel- 
come to clamor there any time you lil 
We usually leave it ajar for just such 0c 
casions. But first — uh — tell us a little 
more about you in that Brooks Brothers 
suit. 


Freedom from the more tragic risks of 
involvement is freedom within a well-lit 
box. Whether the dimenstons of the dark 
beyond are the same, rLaywoy will learn 
when in its everardent push for more 
freedom, it breaks through a wall one 
nd finds more freedom, along with 
lot more difficulty in establish 
the dimensions. 

Robert F. Crecgan 
essor of Philosophy 
University of New York 
Albany, New York 


ег to Editor Hefner 
He 


ag of Jack D. 
for his February Playboy Philosophy 
did omit one recent invasion of the rights 
of a citizen to view the TY shows of his 
choice. Last year a popular hour-long 
television series scheduled an episode on 
abortion. Now I don't believe in whole- 
sale abortions, but in some instances it's 
a necessary evil. Regardless, the good 
Catholic people of Boston refused to 
allow its presentation on a local station. 
(Something about the best interests of 
the publi ¢ refrain from printing 
my name published. as 
business requires my living in this cor 
rupt, Codforsaken state. 

me withheld by request) 
ого, М 

For mare on religious censorship see 


this month's “Playboy Philosophy." 


І ага very happy that Hugh Hefner 
has a philosophy. Doesn't everyone? But 
must we be forced to purchase the Phi- 
Iosoplry if we desire the rest of the maga- 
zine? Perhaps it would be more equitable 
if two editions were put out — one with 
the Philosophy for about 53 cents and 
one without the Philosophy for the usual 
60 cents. In this way, the choice would 
be up to the consumer and the true 
value of The Playboy Philosophy would 
be rellected in the price of the m 


azine 


PLAYBOY magazine always presents 
good fiction, excellent features and de- 
lightful photographs. The mammary 
mania that infests your publication has, 
at times, approached the ridiculous, but 
photos of lovely girls still provide the 


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They're great gifts for anyone who smokes 
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PLAYBOY 


30 


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WHAT 
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backbone of the magazine. Now, sud 
denly. Chicago's pipesucking Napoleon 
wants to become an intellectual playboy 
Hefner bas a terrific talent for selecting 
the world’s largest boobs (I guess it takes 
опе to know опе). Therefore, | would 
at he spend his full time at 


ng the economics. political 
science, sociology and psychology to those 
who know what they are writing about. 
Michael. аста 
Northwestern University 
Chicago, Illinois 
The choice is still very much up to 
the individual, Michael — like anything 
else in our publication, you ean rend the 


succeeding installments ol “The Playboy 
Philosophy" or pass them by. Most 
readers seem lo be receiving the editorial 
statement with a erent deel of interest 
and enthusiasm. Judging from the mail 
response. it is the most popular teature 
we have ever published and in the first 
Jour months in which it has appeared: 
PLAYBOY's circulation has quite ипех 
pectedly started ta climb, issu- hy issue 
from 1.350.000 copies to an incredible 


(for a 60-cent magazine) 1700.000. 


The Playboy Philosophy is a thought 
ful and wellwritten editorial and should 
be read by anyone interested in writin 


for rravnoy and. indeed. anyoue inte 
It pre 
vigorous 


ested in writing for publication. 
sents a well rounded pie une ol 
modern magazine aud the creative peo 
ple who edit and publish іса picture 
demonstrating Clearly that. er Av ovs 
impressive success is based он 
and intelligent approach to the people 
who write for it and the people who read 


a mature 


forward 1o reading the 


it. d am lookin 
subsequent installments of The Playboy 
Philosophy with great interest 
\. S. Barack, Editor 
The Writer 
Massachusetts 


Boston. 


PLAYBOY is obviously quite conscious 
ine not merely 
but to taste, T 
write to register (a) my gencral approval 
of PLAYBOY. content and concept and 
(b) a mild protest about the abandoned 
мау PLAVBOY tremls (Even 
- who dearly de not fill so vital 
а role in PLAYBOY'S expressions as verbs 
do, merit more gentlemanly treatment.) 
For merely one example (there are 
others). the Editor allows too much seri 
ousnes (o intrude imo his otherwise 
t consideration of “several issues 


infinitives: 


wom 


com 
of the magazine” (и p. 166. 
1962: “to seriously consider”). 

1 doit wish to appear a Fanatic = hav- 
ing һай this discussion many times with 
people whose arguments were for re- 
Taxed usage, 1 am not immune 10 sup 
plications for flexibility — but I do 
protest such fission. where not necessary 
1 basten to add that Together 
verbs seems virtually always att 


December 


ess in 
able 


HO "KED 


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Audiotape captures 
every nate with erystal 
clarity, keeps distortion 
and background noise 
to a minimum. 

The nexi time 
FM lures you, relax. 
The best antidote is a reel 
of Audiotape. 


And that’s no fish story. 


там MAM 


“it speaks for itself” 


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Bacardi-Partying Bermuda Playboys 
demand equal rights 


for 
Bacardi and Ginger! 


"Daiquiris are splendid. And we always 
the Black Devil its due,” say Bermuda play- 
Jut. if you Vat want a sm: 
serve Bacardi and Ginger!” 


ing 


At your next Bacardi Party, pop ice cubes 
into a glass, drop in ahout 3 ounces of 
singer Ale, add a jigger of 

Taste! By jove, that’s good! 
A Bacardi Party. you know. is where the 
host supplies the fixings—as many as he 
der, fruit juices and, 

. The guests bring the 


is an island. So call your friends. 
Enemies, too. Have a Bacardi Party! 


ENJOYABLE ALWAYS AND ALL WAYS 


32 BACARDI IMPORTS, INC., NY. RUM. . .80 PROOF 


without any rhetorical sacrifice. (Com 
pare E. В. White’s remarks in his edition 
of Suunk’s Elements of Siyle—or see 
and PLAYBOY 
aps a little 
nfinitives would pre 


more respect for 
serve th 
ravages of the cruel and vu 
poor virginal verbs to sp 
Harvey 
New York, New York 
There's no arguing with the correct 
ness of your position, Harvey, though 
PLAYBOY has always favored а certain 
flexibility in all things, including the 
King's English; as for those sorry split 
infinitives, you know that we've always 
opposed Togetherness consider 
chastity to be highly overrated, even in 
verbs. 


and 


Please forgive my horrendous typing. 
but (а) l'm no typist and (b) 1 have 
multiple sclerosis. These are not sym- 
pathy-secking excuses, just apologetic ex 
planitions. 


ice Т can't hold onto а pen 
or pencil, you've just got to settle for 
typed encomium. 

Since I also subscribe to Atlantic 
Monthly, Harper's, Time, Saturday Re- 
view, Sports Illustrated. and Mad, the 
opprobrious term “sybarite” could hardly 
be applied to me. Го me, PLAYBOY . 
upper case deliberately used . . . терге 
sents the finest source of adventurous 
good living th | buy for a 
42-year-old as opportunity as 
ng something 


lled by the picture les 
and jokes pertaining to the gals, I'm also 
much impressed with the more thought- 
ful features of PLAYBOY. 

Perhaps. as suggested by the Unitarian 
minister who delivered himself of the 
hty criticism in Hugh Hefner's essay. 
The Playboy Philosophy in the December 
issue, many of us do live in a kind of 
sel-created little dream world in which 
we enjoy vicariously all the good th 
of life. Is that For someone like me 
who is permanently and totally incapaci 
tated, PLAYBOY is a lifesaver. Instead 
of feeling sorry for myself and bem 
ing my fate. I'm extremely grateful for 
the wonderful memories I have 

Then. too. where else could а small 
town yokel like me learn a litle about 
wine and food selection as well as ac 
cepted methods of dealing with the fairer 
sex? If mine is indeed а PLAYBOY-in 
spired dream world, it suits the hell out 
of me and 1 don't have to search for any 
further meaningfulness. Maybe you'd call 
legic. because I enjoy 
me safe from it 
з for your very 


me a smug pi 
life and am at th 
At any rate, tl 
fine magazin 


me 


nks 


Karl D. Brown, Jr 
Вау Pines, Florida 


Left #1040 
st Mars 


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33 


THE CIGARETTE WITH THE NEW MICRONITE FILTER 


refines away harsh flavor...refines away 
rough taste... for the mildest taste of all! 


THE FINER THE FILTER, THE MILDER THE TASTE 
©1963 P. Lorillard Co. 


PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


ДЕ ing the year of corporate moans 
and individual groans anent the new 
incometax regulations on entertain- 
ment expenses, we particularly appre- 
ciated the good spirits and jolly high 
humor with which the folks at Maker's 
Mark whiskey view the situation, via the 
following newsleucr sent out to the 


salesmen. The letterhead reads: “The 
Hardin Creek Hunkering and Hanker- 
Society on Starhill Farm N. 


Loretto Kentucky,” and continues like s 

The regular meeting was held in the 
old Quart House at Starhill Farm and 
featured the following remarks by Ralph 
Dawkes on the Government's ruling that 
a businessman has to substantiate in wr 
ag all entertainment expenses over S25. 
“The trouble with those boys in 
Washington," Ralph said, "is theyve 
got no idea of all the hel] some business 
men have to go through to get busine 
You can tell that from the example they 
give of how a businessman ought to 
report his entertainment. The example 
they sent out reads this way 

Lunch with Jones, Green 
and Smith, trustees of P. Q. R 
Investment Board. Discussed 
tural plans submitted for 
Claremont. Village apartment 
No other persons entertained." 
dy, if you're 
entertaining trustees. but if you're en- 
tertaining the clowns I have to do 
business with you've got to go into all 
the sordid details or you don’t get your 
deduct, To demonstrate that point 1 am 
going to read from a carbon copy of an 
expense account 1 have just turned in. 
following the new Washington rules 
It says 

“Dinner with Buckman, Dietzel and 
O'Brien of Ajax Machinery. Discuss re- 
tooling. Buckman says why don't we 
have another round, a double this time. 


Brown 
il Estate 
architec- 
proposcd 
building. 


"Now that's fine and da 


а са 


More discussing and dr 
zel says, why don't we go to some place 
where it's a little livelier. 

“Go to Orangutang Club. More d 
cussion and drinks. Buckman says Ajax 
needs heavier casings. O'Brien says, 
speaking of casing, he’s been casing wo 
broads at ble and why don't 
I ask them over. 

“Ge Big Red and 
Roxy, More drinks, discussion. Dietzel 
stats figuring retooling costs on table 
doth, No ink, uses ketchup. Waiter ob- 
jects. Dietzel tells waiter what he can 
do with table cloth. Manager, eight 
diners object. O'Brien says he and 
Dictzel will clean out joint if n ger, 
diners not careful. T ter 10 bucks 
not to call police, leave for Big Red's 
apartment, 

Reach Big Red's ap: 
contract date with Diewe 


ng and Diet- 


corner 


^t broads over . 


w 


tment, discuss 
Big Red tells 


Buckman to come in off fire escape 
Buckman says, him Tarzan, her Jane. 
Big guy upstairs says Jane better get 


Tarzan the hell off бге escape or him 
calling police. O'Brien kitchen 
sink, tie caught in ¢ c grinder. B 
Red turns on hot w s scalding 
O'Brien. Jerk O'Brien loose, get Buck 
man off fire escape. Give Big Red 15 
bucks for miscellancous damage, leave 
for hotel 

“Don't reach hotel. Stop by Club 
Hotsy for six nightcaps. Listen to Buck 
man on following items in followi 
order: heavy machi politics, те 
gion, sex, Mrs, Buckma 


sick i 


very 
sick joke about 


Eskimo. heavy machinery. sex, Mrs 
Buckman's mother, sick joke about 
Eskimo, religion. Buckman's hernia, sex, 


sick joke about Eskimo, religion, how 
Buckman is going to diddle O'Brien and 
Diezel out of Ajax vice-presidency. 
O'Brien and Dietzel having foot race 


in parking lot. Winner gets bartender's 
wile. Pull bartender off Вісле). O'Brien 
asleep in shrubbery. 

"Arrive hotel four лм. O'Brien re- 
freshed by sleep, crawls through lobby 
baying like dog. Buckman, playing Little 
Eva, knocks ever potted plant, bust of 
Conrad Hilton. Dietzel takes over ele. 
vator. Four thirty, catch Dietzel, get 
them to room. Buckman starts calling 
old Army buddy in San Francisco. Leave. 
Cost for evening, $117.23. Return to 
hotel II aw, wake Buckman, et al. 
Buckman asks what happened, Tell him. 
get rush order to retool Ajax Machinery." 

Now, that’s exactly what happened 
und I got the bills, 
manager, eight dine 
bartender's. wife, an elevator. operator. 
a house dick and a cold check from 
Dietzel to prove it. And if Washington 
thinks I didn't have to entertain them 
that way to get that order, they don't 
know Buckman, Dievel and O'Brien." 


three waiters, a 


broads, а 


two 


Sign of the times spouted in the win 
dow of a Vancouver dress shop: Tots 10 
TEENS — MATERNITY. DRESSES: 


Sinophiles will be saddened by the 
news that the venerable Chinese sage, 
Kung Fu-tse, immortalized as Confucius 
and bowdlerized by a blight of apocry- 
phal "Confucius Say” quips, is inscrutably 
absent from the after-dinner speakers 
bible, Bartlet's Familiar Quotations. 


While the rest of the nation girded 
itself for the worst at the height of the 
Cuban crisis last. October, Hollywood 
wags rose to the occasion in their own 
inimitable way — by inventing catchy, if 
not deathless, song titles for the Hit 
Parade of World War HI: / Want to Set 


the World on Fire; Embraceable U-235; 


35 


PLAYBOY 


36 


VOCAL 
VOLATILE 
VERSATILE - 


“THE GROUP" 


A most exciting new vocal trio, distinc- 
tively fresh or fiery as the song demands. 
The swinging soprano is Anne Gable; the 
tenors are Larry Benson and Tom Kamp- 
man. And the sound; like three nightin- 
gales out for a lark! “But Beautiful, 

Hear Music,“ “Joey, Joey, Joey,” 9 more! 


RCA VICTOR 


GAMENET TRUSTED NAME nv sot 


ө 


California, There You Со; Ilinois Fell 
on Alabama; PU Be with You in Radia- 
tion Time; I Guess Pll Have to Change 
My Planet; Megaton o My Heart; ad 
oblivion, With th at 
of the crisis nt return 
to relative normalcy, the public has be- 
gum to tum its attention back to such 


cold war concerns as the unabating 
space race; but so far Tinseltown's Tin- 
Pan Alley cats haven't seized the oppor- 


шп to launch а crash program of 
titles for "Top Ten interplanetary umes. 
To help them get this surefire inspi 
tion into orbit, we herewith testfir 
a profitable payload of space ballads 
Springtime in the Rockets; I'm in the 
Moon for Love; Sleepy Time Galaxy: 
Three Little Worlds; O Solar Mio: 
Pove Got a Feelin’ I'm FreeFallin': and 
to commemorate our first encounter with 
extraterrestrials: Five Foot Two, Eyes of 
Glue; You Go to My Heads (Пір side: 
Me and My Shadows); Red Scales in the 
Sunset; Da ye: Rudolph, the Red- 
Nosed Gryblkn: How Much Is that Earth- 
man in the Window?; John, Martian: 
Blue-Suede Feet; Come Rain or Come 
Slime; Thou Sweiled: For Every Mandible 
Ther Woman; NoNose Nanette; 
and that grand old standard, I Wonder 
What's Kissing Her No 


sa 


Сом ions are in order for Ch 
go's Starlite Drive-In. Theater, which 
arns our covered annual award for out- 
nding contribution to the annals of 
tasteless advertising, The winning entry 
а recent ad, which ran in all the Chi 
papers. for a bloodcurdling double bill 
which inspired the management i0 dub 


their passion pit “Asylum of the In- 
c." Feature number one was blurbed, 
‘The Twisted of the Weird The 


Boldest Show of a Decade!" Feature 
number two was touted as “The Way of 
All Flesh! Passion for Life! Psycho of the 
Damned!" The pictures themselves, iden- 
tified below in small print: Academy 
Award nominee The Mark and Oscar 
winner The Thice Faces of Eve. 


Pennsyl 


Getting shaved in Erie, 
we discovered, can Te h 
the Taw as well as the barber: I's a mis 
demeanor to doze off in a barber chair. 

For your sharper-than-a-serpent’s-tooth 
file, we offer the following item: Missouri 
ator, Peter Rabbitt, whose name we 
ready brought to our 
in these columns (July 1962), 
has introduced a bill providing for a 
dollar tax on each copy of any publi 
tion which contains a picture or repre 
sentation of the nude figure of a human 
being — receipts to be used to establish 
а state art gallery which, we presume, 
will display only fully dothed versions 


1 to а brush wi 


readers 


tention 


of the world’s great art. 
We salute the editor of Commercial 
Grower, a farm trade journal, for his 
courageous exposé of an insidious hor- 
ticultural menace, which, he declares in 
a recent issue, "is an ever-present men- 
acc, lurking in the background like some 
animal. frightened to show itself until 
the auack, then it becomes bold and 
ambitious. At least that is the way I feel 
about stem rot 


Destined to take their place alongside 
the plasticbagged martinis and manhat- 
tans are four-pack cans of wine currently 
being testfoisted on the luckless con- 
sumer. Sic transit gloria burgundy. 

An ad in the Los 
cently offered item that's likely to be 
available in very limited supply, so we 
suggest you get one while they last: 
Parisian Playgirl wigs "handmade of 
100€, European vi human hair," 


Angeles Times үс 


What price fame? A pregnant Palm 
Springs housewife writes that her associ 
tion with rıaynoy reaped a bonus of 
unexpected. amusement when she ap- 
proached the officer. of an out-of-town 
bank for his OK to cash our 525 check 
for a Party Jokes contribution. Noting 
the PLAYBOY name on the check and the 
signature of Hugh M. Heiner, and 
staring significantly at her prominent 
façade, he was a bit unnerved by hei 
straightfaced reply to his unspoken 
question: “They don't really pay much 
for this sort of thing, do they? 


Most publications adorn their mast- 
heads with mottocs — some straightfor 
ud (The New York Times’ "MI the 
News that’s Fit to Print). some im 
modest (Chicago Tribune's “The World's 
Greatest Newspaper"). But none are 
quite as pithy as those 
issue — which appear on the front page 
of The Realist. а naysaving New York 
journal of refreshingly irreverent opinion 
and satire, edited by ri Av Conuib- 
uting Editor Paul Krassner, А sampl 
“The Magazine of Criminal Negligence, 
“2. of Yellow Journalism,” “. . of 
Summe of Applied Para- 


a new one every 


Reruns, 


noia." of Deviated Septi,” and most 
recently, "The Fire Hydrant of the 
Underde 
BOOKS 
The 1063 spring literary scene is 


ance of six 


brightened by the app 
PLAYBOY luminaries whose latest 
are reviewed. here. Herbert Gold's new 


tomes 


novel, Salt (Dial, $1.93). is a seasoned 
look at some young Americans, first 
introduced in these pages, who are 


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N.Y. 


by love unpossesed. Peter Hatten, 
young man of Manhattan, is plowing 
along looking for love, frightened at not 
finding it. When his wartime buddy, 
Dan Shaper, gets divorced Peter intro: 
duces him to an ex-girlfriend, Barbara, 
and she and Dan make it together. While 
Dan is off on a trip, Peter, still looking, 
one-night return engagement 
This leads to a street fight 
en the two men — and е 
10 the union of Dan and B: 
chance at the real life 
d to miss. Gold's 


doc 
dialog ys pert 
humor is nicely impertin 
his case (as Antonioni has done in recent 
films): that a chief question of our time 
is whether we are still capable of love, or 
whether love has to be redefined for a 
ewly evolving race in an 


nt, and his 


Peter's wound. y 
the salt of Dan's earth, The author has 
put and thought on 
these matters to make the novel worth 
its weight in Gold. 

Shepherd Mead has written a mystery- 
suspense novel of sorts called "Dudley, 
There Is No Tomorrow!” “Then How About This 
Afternoon?” (Simon & Schuster, $4.95). The 
seen port, а classy community 
on Long Island Sound. The semicoherent 


bara is, hope 


ife Glory discover who, if any- 
murdered her second. husband — 
whom Dudley likes to think of as his 
husband-in-law. The unravelings of this 
not-too-mysterious mystery, 
through Dudley's а 
brain, provide a vel 
dulge his penchant for pu 
misspent youth." he writes, "is a joy for- 
ever.” When Dudley's Aunt. Maude re- 
marks that it is odd that the dead man 
should have driven into Long Island 
Sound, Dudley replies, “There's a last 
time for everything.” Shepherd shepherds 
farfeiched. characters rapidly in and 
out of a maze of farfetched situations. 
Dudley keeps getting knocked out by 


nes. 


strong men and awakening in the arms 
of strong women. After he has been 
pening with Glory for а [ew minutes 
; Кс... 


(. Just a Little for old time's 
but no nibbling .). she coos, 
ing on the mezzanine, 
Dudley.” The book's ending may seem a 
letdown, but that’s only to be expected 


after so wild a ride 

The Second Stone (Stein & Day, S5. 
is a first novel by Leslie A 
uncategorizable literary critic of uncom- 
mon ferocity. It is subtitled, “А Love 
and it is indeed —a_rushingly 
ble evoc sudden, tota 
passion which c 
emotional typhoon takes place 
between a novelist in his mid 


jeder, that 


doesn't write and an early.Grace-Kelly 
type who can arouse instant. concupis- 
cence in all males within range, but is as 
opaque to those who desire her as she is 
10 herself. This mesmeric lady is the wife 
of a fashionably quasi-intellectual rabbi, 
Mark Stone. The novelist was the rabbi's 
boyhood friend in Newark, and thou 
not Jewish, has the same last n. 


contrast to the rabbi, the nove 


been indulging himself for years in 
indolence and cynicism and the liberty 
of sweet despair." Yet this "second 
Stone” retains the manic wit and hur- 
iling emotions of his radical youth, and 
his vivid personality pulls the rabbi's 
wife to him in racing release from the 
fatuous rhetoric about love in which her 
husband specializes. Their story is set 


the failure of an International 
ves on Love, programed and 
chaired by the ribbi, This ironic back 
drop is incidental, however, as are the 
ricatures of various academic and po 
litical types who are brought in to take 
pratfalls. But the ranksmclling. des 
perately ardent novelist comes fully 
alive 
vincing 
from being just another skewering of 
itellectual hypocrites and international 
culture hounds, 

In Is There о Life After Birth? (Simon and 
chuster, $4.95), Alexander King, with 
a sense of wonder and a sense of humor 
that 61 years, four wives, creeping Amer- 
icanism, Jack Paar and various diseases 
have left unimpaired, continues the 


id the thrust of his passion, con 


nd contagious, saves the book 


chronicle of his nine lives, a portion of 
which appeared in the March 1963 issue 
of pLaypoy, He is alternately funny, 
passionate, reflective, nostalgic, vulgar, 
informative, and sometimes just plain 
rude, but always entertaining. He tells 
of odd characters he has known, places 
he has visited, experiences he has had, 


and even gives away, absolutely free, a 
plot for a wild musical comedy about а 
sanitarium populated entirely by ru 
hersup in such contests for glory 
Coronado Beach Boy of the Year 1961. 
He also reminisces а good deal about 
the long-lost Austria of his childhood, 
and comments ruefully on the Austr 
of today: “I've watched the Austrian 
citizenry diving under cataracts of 
whipped cream and doing the breast 
stroke in almost shoreless lakes of but- 
tered chocolate sauce, Thal is really their 
truc national culture: pastry!" As for the 
title's question, the answer lics between 
the Yes, for the fortunate few 
who live it to the hilt. And of these few. 
need we add, Alex is King. 

The welcome reprint of Arthur. С. 
Clarke's macabre classic, Childhood's End 
arcourt, Brace & World, $4.50), offers 
stes-eye view of man's puny 
struggles on carth amid a vast and 
fathomless universe. First published a 
decade ago, the book retains all its ре 


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39 


PLAYBOY 


40 


— 
No рё 
Bia 
roll-on 

gives the big protection, 

stroke for stroke, you get 

with Brake. Its the big 
protection a big man Needs 


MENNEN 


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GLIDE-ON DEODORANT 
FOR MEN 


tinence to our times. It begins (circa 
1975) with intimations of a nuclear dis 
aster that is averted by the Overlords. а 
peculiar breed of benevolent scholars 
who have come from another. planet to 
take charge of Earth. They look like 
devils (horns, forked tail and all), but 
behave more like 19th Century Fabians. 
They proceed to establish world govern- 
ment, wipe out poverty, and even put a 
ban on discrimination — though South 
Afri uble on this 
score. (After much Overlord pressure, 
the South African government reluctant- 
ly announces that “full civil rights 
would be restored to the white minor 
ity.") But it turus out that even the Over- 
lords have а bos, the Overmind, who 
brings Earth to its doom. In Clarke's 
lexicon, the Over 
Меп 


ives them some tr 


ad personifies the 


ss of the universe. 

ment of Clarke's 
views on this subject in Profiles of the 
Future (Harper & Row, $3.95), a collec 
tion of recent essays which have been ap. 
pearing regularly in ria, “Space 
сап be mapped and occupied without 
definable limit,” Clarke prophesics, “but 
it can never be conquered. When our 
race has reached its ultimate achieve- 
ments, and the st 
tered по more widely than the seed. of 
Adam, even then we shall be like ants 
crawling on the face of the Earth.” 
Man's spatial insignificance is almost an 
idee fixe of the author's. The essays may 
win your intellectual assent; the novel 
will leave you with goose-pimples that 
bespeak real conviction. 

My Life end Fortunes (Duell, Sloan 
R Pearce, 55.95), by J. Paul Getty. 
PLAYBOY'S Consulting Editor on Business 
and Finance, is a highly personalized 
account ol Getty’s rise from rich to 
richest that takes the reader from the 
author's first wildcattir 
homa (the initial success that wedded 
Getty to the oil industry for life) though 
his far lung presentday multibillion- 
dollar empire; it also takes Mr. Getty 
through five stormy matrimonial voy- 
ges which "the world’s richest man" 
attributes to his compelling preoccupa- 
ton with business. Though much in the 
book will not be unfamiliar to ran 
dor makes 
it worthy of investing the time for a 
thorough reading — with the assurance 
of dividends in insight and understand. 

g concerning this complex and original 
financier. 


unknow 


There is a further stat 


s themselves аге scat 


emure in Okla- 


readers, its unflinching € 


RECORDINGS 


Although no further proof is necessary 
to establish the incredible versatility of 
the man who is quite possibly the best 
performing talent in show business, 


Sammy Davis Jr. at the Cocoanut Grove (Rc 
prise) wraps it up on a two-LP album. 
Sammy does it all — from а smattering ol 
stand-up comedy to a smidgen of soft 
shoe, to a nifty display of miming 
(Ted Lewis, Elvis Presley, Ray Charles, 
the Kingfish, Al Jolson, Laurel & Hardy, 
Karlolf, Lugosi, Walter Brennan, Robert 
Newton, Nat Cole. Billy Eckstine, Frankie 
Laine, Tony Bennett, Louis Armstrong, 
Bogart, Cagney, James Stewart, Brando, 
Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, Claude Rains, 
Marlene Dietrich, Vincent Price and 
tra). Add а superb singing stint high- 
lied by a bongo-accompanied West 
Side Story medley. For а comprehensive 
course on what it takes to be The Com- 
pleat Performer. you need look по fur 
ther than the Davis grooves at the Grove. 

Carl Reiner & Mel Brooks ot the Connes 
Film Festival (Capitol) has the king of the 
kooks, Brooks, running rampant as he 
bounces outrageously zany lines off the 
astutely hapless Reiner. At the Cannes 
Film Festival (which Reiner has taking 
place in southern Italy), Brooks comes 
on as Adolph Hartler, head of the 
Nari Film Company. When Reiner 
inquires about an SS tattoo on Brooks’ 
arm, Mel claims it stands for Simon Says. 
When asked how he feels about Hitler, 
Brooks sa Hider committed some 
terrible errors — like losing the war. He 
also plays Italian film director Frederico 
Fettucini, who really a Greek who 
changed his name from Mercurio Mer- 
curochrome and whose latest picture is 
Rape. Brooks next comes on as Dr. 
Felix Wheird, author of Hello Fatso. 
Wheird daims he had a dispute over 
the title with Irving Stone, who was 
g to use it for The Agony and the 
Ecstasy because Michelangelo was so fat. 
When Reiner points out that self- 
portraits show him as a thin mar 
counters with "They paint themselves 
skinny.” He then confides that the 
greatest cause of overweight is an under- 
shirt — when men sit around in their 
undershirts they start to drink beer and 
sing Polish songs. When asked by Reiner 
if fish are good, Brooks deadpans, “Yes, 
they never caused a war.” When ques 
ned whether the expression "Some 


people dig their graves with their teeth” 
was true, Brooks points out that it 
appl 


s only to very poor people. As the 
ter who launched him on a per 
career — the 2000 ear old m: 
— Brooks claims that garlic is respon 
sible for his longevity. Every night before 
he goes to bed, the 2000-yearold man 
cats a pound and a half of garlic: then, 
when the Angel of Death hovers n 
he gets a whiff, goes "Whoocy 
leaves. When asked to define the differ 
ence between comedy and tragedy, 
Brooks comments “Tragedy is if 1 cut 
my finger; comedy is if you walk into 
an open sewer and die." When asked 


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PLAYBOY 


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He's a man of many credit cards, with a connoisseur's taste in restau- 
rants, and women. And he knows the shirt he wears insures quicker 
service anywhere, Naturally, he picks from Van Heusen's "417" Collec- 
tion of dress and leisure shirts. This time it's a smart button-down with 


elegant stripe of batiste oxford and new "Tı 


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are optically-perfcct—give 180 degree distortion-free vision. Lenses are 
joined to spring steel frames with precisioned optical screws. And these 
great glasses are fog-resistant, scratch-resistant, glareproof, shatterproof. 
Wear them year-round, In a wide range of lens shades, styled for men and 


women, with continental case, $12.95. 


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if he k Benedict Arnold, Brooks 


Not for being a spy, however — but. be- 
cause he didn’t keep an appointment. 
"The same night he was supposed to 
n for me. he betrays his 
country" As Warren Bland, 
necticutaccented account executive with 
the ad firm of LMNOP (Lathrop. 
McCann, Nielsen, Oscar & Peterson), he 
wdles a mentholated cigarette 
5 (because they have more 
t of mint). He lives in the 
exclusive community of Connect 
Connecticut. which is so exclusiv 
How children. The г 
but they 
and Italian 


farm them out to nice Jewis 
families in. Hartford. The 
gest account is cholesterol, w! 
confident they ll be able to push because 
advertising is а lor stronger chan life. 
And Brooks is а lot fui than most. 


The fo lable expressiveness of the 
Heifetz violin bridges the conceptual 
gap between side one, Bruch/Concerto in 
G Minor, aud side two, Mozort/Concerto in 
D Major (V th a discipline aud 
deltness that is singularly Heiletz, The 
throbbing. richly emotional melodic line 
of the Bruch work is a shimm 
the violin; the D Major 
Concerto is more restrictively forma 
evertheless, in Jascha Heifetz 
it comes vibrantly alive. The 
mphony Orchestra of London is 
the baton of Malcolm Sargent. 


vehicle for 


New 
unde 


Several of the seemingly infinite as- 
pects of Duke Ellington may be heard 
ering display in an LP triph 

ler. The Ellington orchestra, full- 
blown and refulgent, divides Gaul into 
13 parts ou Midnight in Paris (Columbia), 
а natural follow-up to the Duke's Paris 
Blues movie soundtrack stint Three of 
the items are Ellington-Swayhorn lils, 
the rest are Seine side sonatas of 
igion & Co., w 
soloists Hodges, Hamilton, Carney, Gon- 
Nance caught u 
further. illuminate 


yet another facet 
i» brought along, 
for the session — his 
first h the The only 
puzzle is why they took so long to get 
together. Like the proverl i 
pod, the two jazz gi 
one, with Hawkins more mellifluous than 
For the supreme slice, we recom- 
mend The Ricilic, which features the 
superb violin of Ray Nanc 
Hawk, and Ellington with rhythm — a 
jizz gem. The final vinyliziug is Duke 
Ellington & John Coltrane (Impulse 
which the Duke and the “Tran 
their own 1 
the duties, find а common 


а soarin 


ground for what would appear to be dis- 
parate. points of view. If anything, Col- 
trane, perhaps in deference to the Duke. 
is less avant-garde than usual, providing 
soprano and tenor solos tha 
sively imaginative yet easily assimilated. 
And, as though spurred by the restless 
probing of Coltrane, Ellington's piano 
work is far Jess formularized than one 
would expect 


rc impres- 


Loose, in its most salubrious seus 
the word lor Sinaira-Basie (Repr 
Frank and the Count, a couple of Jersey 
boys who have come up in the world, 
have made their first coupling a momen- 
tous one, The Basie band is a model of 
relaxed. restraint behind a Sinatra who 
obviously appreciates the company he's 
keeping. The 10 tunes on tap range from 
Frank's best-selling Tender Trap to such 
oldics as Looking at the World Through 
Rose-Colored Glasses and I'm Gonna Sit 
Right Down and Write Myself a Letter. 
МІ profit from the very right combin: 
tion of a subdued Basic and a swinging 
Sinaia. 


Monk's Dream/The Thelonious Monk Quor- 
ter (Columbia), the jazz pioneers first 
recording in several years, reaffirms the 
Monk's stature as а musician beholden 
to no one. Thelonious’ assertive piano 
musings serve as a catalyst for tenor man 
Charlie Rouse who, despite the fact that 
his reach sometimes exceeds his grasp, 
is a creative musician flourishing under 
Monk's aegis. Even such well-worn jazz 
ples as Body and Soul and Just a 
dst half-dozen Monk 
ed up and re- 


Gi 
motifs, have b 
Iurbished. 


golo, found 


m fresh 


Victoria de los Angeles, in any con- 
text, is a singer of estimable sensitivity; 
on her native ground, she is peerless. 
Cantos de España (Anycl), performed with 
the Paris С toire Orchestra, is 
filled with the flowing grace ol Miss De 
los Angeles crystalline tones. This 
recording, which includes works by G 
nados and Falla, showcases several less- 
familiar composers. For sheer beauty of 
sound, we recommend Montsalvatge’s 
Punto de Habanera, with words by the 
Spanish poet Néstor Luján 


Peter, Paul and Mary (Moving) (Warner 
Bros), a second LP from the folk-singing 
threesome who exploded on the scene 
with their first etching, finds PP&M dip- 
ping deep into the same ballad bowl re- 
sponsible for their initial success. Their 
repertoire is an amalgam of such seldom: 
heard folk ditties as Old Goat with the 
likes of Woody Guthrie's well-known 
patriotic paean This Land Is Your Land 
The trio's forte is purity of tone, a mini 
mum of gimmickry and, when the need 
arises, a communicable sense of humor. 


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SHULTON 


43 


PLAYBOY 


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The Oscar Peterson Trio Bursting Out with 
the All Star Big Band! (Verve) is as long on 
talent as it is on title. An outsize 
gation conducted by Ernie W 
also did the charts, provides а con 
ly swinging context for the continu: 
inventive Peterson piano and the pee 
less pluckings of bass giant Ray Brown. 
Included are such Peterson stand-bys 
Blues for Big Scotia, Tricrotism and 
Daahoud, interspersed with à number of 
mood-filled ballads and capped by 
I ized bash debuted by Dizzy Gilles- 
pie, Manteca, which is still infectiously 
exciting 


Their first vinyl get-together, Lambert, 
Hendricks and Bavan Recorded “Live” at Basin 
Street East (Victor), offers ample proof that 
LHKR has suffered not one whit in its 

ransition to LHXB. If anything, the trio 
proved by the added fascination of 
Jon-born Yolande Н an's British ac 
s. A further plus for this session was 
the instrumental backing of the Gildo 
Mahones Trio and the inventively crisp 
soprano sax of Pony Poindexter, On 
hand are rather straight interpretations 
ol the bossa novas Slightly Ош of Tune 
(Desafinado) and One Note Samba, a 
frantic run-through of Basics chart. of 
April in Paris and an аЙ ош attack on 
Bobby ‘Timmons’ soul swinger. Dis 
Hyunh. 


IL it’s been a litle tardy in climbing 
aboard the bossa-nova bandwagon, The 
Dove Brubeck Quartet/Bossa Novo U.S.A. (Co- 


lumbia) should more than atone for 
the group's procrastination. The softly 
burnished, belHike quality of 


Desmond's alto proves itself. espe 
well-suited to the insinuating B 
rhythms so stanchly put forth by dn 
mer Joe Morello. Of all the bossa-no: 
themes. only Trolley Song and This 
Can't Be Love have been converted to 
the Brazilian beat from standard mı 
rial, and they lose nothing in the wans- 
lat 


MOVIES 


The Trial, Franz Kafka's modern classic 
of u l reality, has been filmed by 
Orson Welles, himself something of a 
trial to filmgoers. Few directors have 
shown his brilliance, but the Kafka film, 
like his others (always excepting the 
classic Citizen. Kane), is not as deep as 


ht to 


inucs 10 feel Welles ov 
be. Scene after scene is molded ma 
cently, photographed with finesse 
with power; yet it all adds up to a clutch 
of memorable moments without success- 
Tully conveying the novels feeling of 
20th Century Angst. Part of the disap- 
pointment must I. ged to Anthony 


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Perkins, miscast as the Middle-European 
Joseph K., the nowhere bank employce 
in a nowhere country, who is sud- 
denly arrested without being specifically 

ged and who goes through а 1 
es of dreamlike quests and inqui 
he accepts his guilt without ever 
learning of what he is guilty. Welles’ 
wizardry too often draws atte 
itself, instead of to what the work is 
about, and the switch of the ending from 
tragedy to triumph seems hard to justify 
on artistic grounds. Jeanne Morcau, El 
Martinelli and Romy Schneider play the 
female parts—all of which have ob- 
viously been given more body. As К., 
Perkins searches for God and justice like 
a freshman looking for the registrar's 
office. Still, this fine near-miss of a film 
deservedly will be the subject of many a 
long Katka-klatsch to come. 


Judy Garland stars in 1 Could бо on 
Sit „ à Technicolor film about a star 
with some resemblance to Judy Garland. 
Ап American singer, with floods of 
fanatical fans, arrives in London for an 
ement at the Palladium. She gocs 
to sce Dirk Bogarde, once à med student 
in America with whom she had an айайт 
and a child, and now a famous doctor. 
Bogarde reminds her that when he 
adopted the boy, who is now at school, 
she promised not to sec him. But she 
wheedles a reunion. The complications 
that ensue will be wearying to some 
d tear-jerking to others, but all will 
ree that Gregory Phillips, as the boy, is 
a bit of all right. Each song in the film is 
supposed to comment on the story. Judy 
sings them during her Palladium per- 


formances, to adoring audiences, with 
the gestures that are her trademark 
and with the voice that has made her 


famous. Ronald Neame directed 
despite the soggy story, helps the 1 
demonstrate that she has acting talent. 


The Hook, a parable about the brother 
hood of man, strains so hard that it 
would bust a gut if it had any. The 
scrcenplay, based on an obscure French 
novel, is by Henry Denker, author 
of Broadway's Freudian fricassee, A Far 
County. In the Korean War, an Ameri 


can sergeant (Kirk Douglas) and two of 
his men (Robert Walker and Nick 
Adams) are encumbered with a prisoner, 


North Kore: 
liewe! 
they 

а 


| pilot who killed thei 
nt. On a ship returning to base, 
e advised not to bring the pilot 
—the enraged local populace is 
ly to murder him. The three men are 
thus faced with a decision: Should they 
save their prisoner from the mob by 
shoving him overboard? There hasn't 
been more superficial psychologizing, hol- 
low hysterics and humdrum humanism 
since the heyday of radio soa pers. Douglas 


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45 


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nes Bond, th 


secret agent. whose 
rs brighten the course 
ish foreign affairs (and the current 
pages of PLAYBOY), makes an inauspi 
ciously hoked-up screen debut in Dr. No. 
In recent years, Tan Fleming's smoothy 
sleuth has given the old tough-guy dick a 
poke in his private eye, but this Techni- 
color tingler doesn't do much to make it 
dear why a plentiful public (including 
JFK) have put their stock in Bond. Gentle- 
an James is sent to Jamaica to investi- 
fellow agents di: 


Ê dp. du АИЙ Ê wi Î 
aplomb until he uncovers a world-size, 
по less. conspi small nearby 
па. a kind of superscientific Shangri- 
La, an Oriental mastermind named Dr. 
No is plotting world dominion. Bond 
investigates and is nabbed by No, but 
Bond gets his hands on the equipment 
and pulls a switch — literally and figura- 
tively — so there's по No by film's end. 
There's a fume of Fu Manchu about the 
movie and Bond's beddings have а too 
heavy touch of tongue-in-cheat. 
Connery, square-jawed and agile, makes 
а Bond who repays interest, and among 
the nubile knockouts, Ursula Andress 
(bad good girl) aud Zena Marshall (bad 
bad girl) are twin. peaks, but the super- 
chromatic Technicolor and the far 
fetched, far-from-super script make one 
sadly shake his head, No. 


30 Years of Fun interweaves a highlight 
history of the movies with the comedy 
ades, Scenes by the 
піс Chaplin: scenes by the litile- 
п clown prince, his brother Syd, 
s by Harry Langdon, Billy Bevan, 
Chase, Laurel and Hardy before 
anent — ah, well, 
to corn a phrase, they don't make ‘em 
like that Another nostalgia- 
inducing gy, The Great Chase, is а 
collection ol they-went-thataways, be 
ginning with The Creal Train Robbery, 
nd including excerpts from William S. 
Hart's last epic, T'umbleweeds, as well as 
from an Amazon odyssey — among the 
first flicks filmed on location — in which 
the hero is up to his canoe in crocodiles. 
A lot of the scrious stull now 
fanny, a lot of the funny stull, less than 
totally hilarious. Last and longest excerpt 
is Buster Keaton’s The General, which 
has Buster as a Confederate engincer on 
a railroad foray into and out of Union 
territory. His top-notch timin 

mag 


seems 


ster and the sweet 
stupid heroine in the locomotive cab is 
antique but not antiquated string of 
pantomimic gems. 


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How long is a kiss? 


That is best decided by the people involved. 
If they agree perfectly, the answer will be 
something like, “Just long enough.“ This 
is unscientific, but satisfactory. 

At Schlitz we are somewhat less romantic, 
somewhat more precise. Just the kiss of 
the hops“ is also "just long enough," but 
we know exactly how long that is. 


The right amount of the right kind of hops, 


added for just the right time, brings the 
character of Schlitz to life. Gently breathes 
real gusto into this great light beer. 


A number of other brewers would like to 
know how long just the kiss of the hops“ 
is, But what do you care? What matters to 
you is how good it makes Schlitz taste. 

Schlitz—the beer that made Milwaukee 
famous... simply because it tastes so good. 


Aes Angas, Ca 


Kansas Сту e Tam 


ul 


THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


Wou have answered qu 
marriage problems of women in your 
column before, so here I go. What do 1 
do about a girl who's crying on my 
husband's shoulder about her love affairs 
with other married men? He talks so 
much about her that I get a sick fecling 
when he mentions her name. He ists 
that she’s "just a kid" (18) and that he 
wouldn't date her even if he were single, 
but Т notice he's beginning to lose in. 
st in our two children. And recently 
id to me, "You're so young and 
[ul and your world has been in 
this apartment for four years now 
you've got to get out more with me." 
Well, 1 find nothing boring about my 
housewife's job. so it seems to me he's 
just trying lo provide те w 
life so he let me down e. 
he asks for his freedom. I'm not going to 
fall to pieces if you tell me he loves her 
and that divorce is the answer. Just let 
me know.— B. L., Hudson, Massachusetts, 

Sweetheart, relax. Rather than trying 
10 let you dawn gently, he is trying to tell 
you — although perhaps unconsciously — 
that you haze let him down. You've been 
so busy being unbored with your “house- 
wife's job” that you've deprived him of 
the feeling of being needed. Why not “fall 
10 pieces” when you're frightened? After 
all, there wouldn't be any room on his 
shoulder for another girl's tears if yours 
were there. Stop being so self-contained, 
go out with him when he wants you to, 
and let him into your private universe 
before its too late. Our hunch is that 
you really do need him, but you haven't 
let him — or yourself — 


now it. 


ДА. . recent poker session, the follow- 

incident occurred. We were playing 
aw poker, jacks or better; after the 
ı player bet after the opener 
ed. A third party stayed and the 
opener dropped. The bettor displayed 
his cards to the third party caller, but to 
no onc ele; the third. party said that he 
ten, whereupon the oper 
manded to see the winn 
claim the pot, of course, but just to see 
what hand won. Was the winner re- 
quired to show his cards to anyone other 
than the bet calling player? — C. S., H: 
mond, Indiana. 

No, sir. Whether he has employed the 
time-honored custom of bluffing or not 
is his business. However, the one who 
opens is required to show his opening 
cards if he drops out. Can't bluff on 
those. 


т de- 


was bi 


ig hand, not to 


I. there any proper cutoff. point for 
man’s sideburns? 1 like to wear mine 


fairly long but an English girl I've been 
dating says they make me look like a 
Teddy Boy. — G. V., Philadelphia, Penn- 
sylvania. 

Your best bet is to follow the hairline 
rule subscribed to by most good barbers: 
The bottom of ihe sideburn should line 
up with the corner of the eye. 


Nos that Cuban-made cigars have 
gone the way of the passenger pigeon in 
the U. S., to what can ап ex-Havana 
fancier turn as a satisfactory replace- 
ment? [s there anything that comes 
bly close in quality 10 my Iate- 
lamented panatelas from Castroland? — 
N. A. Chicago. Illinois. 

There are excellent. cigars currently 
being made im Tampa of Havana to- 
bacco (while the supply lasts) by skilled 
Cuban exiles. More are being turned out 
in the Philippines, some of all-Manila 
tobacco, others of Manila with Florida 
grown wrappers. Still others are being 
produced in Mexico from native leaf. 
Experiments are also being conducted 
with South American grown tobacco 
which show promise of helping to re- 
place the Havana leaf. Cuban tobacco 
seed is now being planted in Florida 
and Connecticut with marked success. 
AIL in all, the fine-cigar cupboard is by 
no means bare, and indications are that 
before the Havana leaf supply is ex- 
hausted new sources will more than 
compensate for it. Make a plus of your 
deprwation by sampling the best brands 
of damestics and non-Cuban imports 


a 


Û recently bought six shirts with collars 
that have stitched eyelets for a safety-type 
pin. A fraternity brother who claims he's 
an expert on fashion says that this is 
cornball in the extreme, and that his own. 
le shirts of this type (which I 
I admire) require that the pin be 
put right through the material, at a point 


custom-m: 


right? — H. M., New Haven, Connecticut. 

Either type is perfectly acceptable. 
However, although your stitched eyelets 
ате a country mile from being cornball, 
your buddy's shirts do put him one-up 
statuswise: the pin-through-the-material 
system is found in more expensive shirt- 
ings where the quality of the cloth is such 
that frequent piercing of the fabric will 
not cause damage. 


AAS a Naval officer on board a tin can, 
1 don't get to spend too much time in 
our home port of Norfolk. However, 
after our last deployment to the Mediter- 


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*'"Fortrel" is a trademark of Fiber Industries, Inc. 


rancan, I did manage to meet a lovely 
young lady (blonde, 20 years old) whom 
1 promptly began dating. In the past I 
have always had good success with the 
opposite sex. whether it be in the States 
or abroad. However, this time I'm com. 
pletely stamped. I have taken her 
five times now and can frankly say that 
I've gotten nowhere. When we go out. 
she sits so close to the opposite side of 
the seat that I practically have to shout 
to be heard, and whenever I try to get 
things started, she’s either not in the 
mood, ured or a half-dozen other things. 
The few umes 1 have kissed her, she sits 
there limply, hands at her sides, and as 
зоо hed she giggles and — 
honest 16 God = makes а fice. Normally 
I'd drop her like a cold potato, but I can't 
bring myself to do it, because 1 like her 
nd because I'm very strongly attracted 
to her physically. And she says she very 
much wants to sce me again. Can you 
explain her actions (or lack of them) or 
give me any suggestions which may help 
the situation? Do you think she's imma- 
ture, or perhaps playing a game with 
me? — R. K., Fleet Post Office, New York. 

We admire your willingness to accept 
a challenge, but in this case the cause 
would appear to be a lost one, Any 20- 
year-old blonde who responds to a hiss 


out 


we're fini 


with a giggle and a grimace is suffering 
a short circuit in her 
Since your time on the beach is limited, 
you'd be better off spending it with a girl 
of more normal reactions. 


nervous system. 


Whe оше day, white we were our walk- 

ш. my girl introduced me to 
friend of hers. When the friend held out 
her hand. I took it without removing my 
glove. Afterward. my girl raised holy 
hell and said if I had any cu, at all 
I would know enough not to hand a 
woman leather instead of skin when in- 
troductions were being made. 1 say this 
went out with Sir Gawain. Who's 
right? — H. I, Seattle, Washington 

You are. In days of yore, failure to re- 
move one’s glove when greeting a woman 
was always deemed rude; today, it’s per- 
fectly OK to handle her with kid gloves 
when their removal would be awk 
or time-consuming. 


А 


Last y 
all my extra weight. But now | dont 
know how to act around girls. What do 
you suggest? — А. N., New York, New 
York. 

Act thin 


a female 


at. 
I went on a crash diet and lost 


I was extremely 


a youngster, 


IME апанта concerns: a hewt ja to 
which 1 looked forward. but which has 
put me in a position that’s causing much 


anxiety 
on the branch-olfice sales force of 
growing company, after intens 
views in the home office. Everythi 
seemed fine at first: nice guys to work 
with, nifty offices, a hail-fellow-well- met 
branch manager of sales, Now, 
weeks later, I find that there is а tacit 
gf H conspi The company is 
doing so well that à certain amount of 
business comes in over the transom, so to 
speak. “If nobody works too hard, the 
general average will look good enough, 
seems to be the idea, and meanwhile 
the rule is long, wet, expense-account 
lunches and take it easy or you'll spoil it 
for everybody. The manager seems to be 
the worst of all: he OKs the expense 
accounts, winks at the loafing, often gets 
stoned at lunch and tak 
off. I kept quiet and kept my nose clean 
for two weeks, then decided I don't li 
the setup at all, for several reasons. First. 
1 want to get ahead, not just get by. 
Second, I like to be interested in the 
work | spend most of my waking day 
doing. Third, I don't like to sound stufly. 
but— damnit — it offends my sense of 
fair play. Fourth, and perhaps most prac 
tically pressing, I'm convinced it can't 
last: sooner or later, the home office 
bound to get wise. I have debated going 
over the er's head, directly to his 
home-office boss, either by confidential 
memo, in person over a weekend (at my 
own expense), or even by mail. anony- 
mously. So far, Гус done nothing but 
worry. Sure as hell, when the whatzis hits 
the fan, we'll all get fired. What do you 
advise? — P. R., Cleveland, Ohio. 

The first thing we advise is to make 
absolutely sure your short tenure im the 
organization hasn't precluded your get- 
ting the full picture. If you're certain 
that the branch office supports a slew of 
your course is clear. Don't try 
the over-the-manager'shead or anony- 
mous-letter bit. Just do the best job of 
which you're capable and don't worry 
about antagonizing your confreres. They 
may be your friends but they're also your 
competition. Do a good enough job and 
i's bound to be noticed by those up- 
stairs; if heads are eventually chopped. 
most certainly yours won't be onc of 
them. If it is, then the 
the kind you should be working for in 
the first place. 


md loss of steep. I took this job 
fast 


only two 


the afternoon 


sluggard. 


organization isn't 


Coud you please cite for me die 
uthority by which the Advisor in your 
tile is spelled with an “o?—T. W. 
New York, New York. 

Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary 
and Webster's Third New International 
Dictionary give a choice of “adviser” от 
"advisor"; we happen to prefer the 
latter. Chacun à son goût. 


Br you can give me a solution 10 1 
twist. you're wizards, indeed. I'm quite 
serious about the girl Fm dating, but 
recently developments have arisen to 
cause me some concern. “Developments” 
in the form of her brother, who just re- 
turned [rom the Army. Frankly, he's 
gay, cay. gay, И you dig. He makes no 
bones about squeezing my leg and giving 
me the "eyes? treatment when his sister 
around. As soon as 1 realized what 
le was, I patiently told him Im 
i попе. thanks, and have done 
everything I can to steer clear of him, 
But he gets a big laugh out of it and 
says hell have me before his big sister 
docs. Ive thought about slapping him 
around a bit, bur any rough stuff. and 
rl iy going 10 want to know why. — 
J. W. Juneau, Maski. 

Forget the fists — which is what he 
expects — and go straight to Sis with the 
problem, Since her brother's aberration 
now threatens hey future with you, she 
has a vight to know what's with him. 
Perhaps her influence can help steer him 
toward psychiatric help. which could 
this fairy tale a happy ending. 


М... is so 
chickens, chicken fat, chic 
Any refe 
radio seems to get | 
Wenatchee, Washi 

Nothing amusing about chickens 
whole, rendered. as chopped liver, in 
soup or flicked. But “Wenatchee” — now 
that's funny. 


out funny about 
n soup, etc 

псе to this fowl on TV and 
ix laughs. B. F., 
ton. 


hi 


s just beginning to consider myself 
thority on women when 1 met 
Susan, Now Em not so sure — and neither 
is she. Because of my reputation as а 
"playboy," she thinks every word I say 
to her is a lie. How cm I dispel her 
fears and win herz Because of my respect 
for her. I have never attempted to seduce 
hey and have tried to be a perfect g 
— M. B, Morgamtowa, West Vir 


ntle- 


ginin, 

Stop ying She's probably fascinated 
by your “playboy” reputation and is 
bored stiff by the respect bit. Either 
sweep her off her feet or ignore hei 
Once you've captured her interest, youll 
have less trouble gaining her confidence. 


% reasonable questions — from fash 
jen. 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 
Sheet, Chicago 11. Illinois. The most 
provocative. pertinent queries will be 
presented оп these pages cach month. 


at home with О 


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51 


Ken W. Purdy writes on Porsche: 


“©... delivers more sheer sensual pleasure than anything else on wheels.” 


“The Porsche may be the most fun to drive of anything in 
the world," says sports car expert, Ken W. Purdy, writing 
in Playboy.“A great many authorities think so. One must 
fold and twist a bit to get into it. Once in, there's all the 
room in the world. The seats are contoured to reach around 
and hold you gently at the hips and shoulders. Visibility 
over the sloping nose is perfect. The gearshift lever moves 
as smoothly as a spoon of molasses, and you can slam it 
back and forth from gear to gear just as quickly as you 
can move your hand. 


“The available acceleration of the Porsche is astounding: 
the brakes are about 50% oversize and air-cooled beyond 
any possibility of fade; and the stcering, very soft and very 
quick, is what power steering tries to be and is not. The 
Porsche was designed for 50-50 fore-and-aft weight distri- 
bution. At about 60 miles an hour, air-pressure bears down 
on the wind-tunnel-bred frontal area and the balance be- 


comes exact almost to a pound. There is virtually no wind- 
roar audible to a Porsche driver. He sits there . . . clipping 
through holes in the traffic-pattern that just aren't there for 
anybody else, and, when he wants to, running away from al- 
most anything he sees. And the car is built. Гуе never heard a 
rattle in a Porsche. Гус сеп salesmen sit on the doors and 
swing back and forth. Why not? They have bank-vault hinges. 


7... There will never be very many Porsches, since the 
factory is small, and they cannot be made quickly in any 
case.... The competition models have a fabulous racing 


record, of course, and many American owners race the car. 
But its place in our scuderia is not as a competition car. It 
is included here because it delivers more sheer sensual 
pleasure than anything сїзє on wheels. Driving a Porsche, 
you can, with small effort, believe that the scat of your 
trousers is a part of the automobile.” 


BEOR SS 


EXPLORE YOUR OWN RESPONSE TO A PORSCHE. Drive one 


today. Drive one every day for about $4200. For 
write Porsche of America Corp., 107 Wren 


rarest dealer's name, 
Avenue, Teaneck, NJ. 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: MALCOLM X 


a candid conversation with the militant major-domo of the black muslims 


Within the past five years, the militant 
American Negro has become an increas- 
ingly active combatant in the struggle for 
civil rights. Espousing the goals of un- 
qualified equality and integration, many 
of these outspoken insurgents have par- 
ticipated in freedom rides and protest 
marches against their segregationist foes. 
Today, they face opposition from not 
one, but two inimical exponents of rac- 
ism and segregation: the white suprema- 
cists and the Black Muslims. A relatively 
unknown and insignificant radical reli- 
gious Negro cult until a few years ago, 
the Muslims have grown into a dedi- 
cated, disciplined nationwide movement 
which runs its own school, publishes its 
own newspaper, owns stores and restau- 
rants in [our major cities, buys broadcast 
time on 50 radio stations throughout the 
country, stages mass rallies attended by 
partisan crowds of 10,000 and more, and 
maintains ils own police force of judo- 
trained athletes called the Fruit of Islam. 

Predicated on the proposition that the 
black man is morally, spiritually and in- 
lellectually superior to the white man, 
who is called a “devil,” Muslim doctrine 
dooms him to extermination in an im- 
minent Armageddon — along with Chris- 


“I don't know when Armageddon is sup- 
posed to be. But I know that the time 


when the white will be 


finished. The signs ave all around. из” 


is near man 


tianity itself, which is denounced as an 
opiate designed to lull Negroes—with 
the promise of heaven — into passive ac- 
ceptance of inferior social status. Amal- 
gamating elements of Christianity and 
Mohammedanism (both of which ofi- 
cially and unequivocally disown it) and 
spiked with a black-supremacy version of 
Hille“ Aryan racial theories, Muslimism 
was founded in 1931 by Flijah Poole, a 
Georgia-born ex-factory worker who to- 
day commands unquestioning obedience 
from thousands of followers as the Hon- 
orable Elijah Muhammad, Messenger of 
Allah. At the right hand of God's Mes- 
senger stands 36-year-old Malcolm Little, 
а lanky onetime dining-car steward, 
bootlegger, pimp and dope pusher who 
left prison in 1952 to heed Muhammad's 
message, abandoned his “slave name,” 
Little, for the symbolic “X” (meaning 
identity unknown), and took an oath to 
abstain thereafter from smoking, drink. 
ing, gambling, cursing, dancing and se 
ual promiscuity —as required of every 
Muslim. The ambitious young man rose 
swiftly to become the Messenger’s most 
ardent and erudite disciple, and today 
wields all but absolute authority over the 
movement and its membership as Mu- 


“Christ wasn’t white. Christ was black. 


The poor, brainwashed Negro has been 
made to believe Christ was white to ma- 
neuver him into worshiping m 


hammad's business manager, trouble 
shooter, prime minister and heir appar- 
ent. 

In the belief that knowledge and 
awareness are necessary and effective an- 
litoxins against the venom of hate, 
PLAYBOY asked Malcolm X to submit to 
а crossexamination on the means and 
ends of his organization. The ensuing 
interview was conducted at a secluded 
table in а Harlem restaurant owned by 
the Muslims. Interrupting his replies oc- 
casionally with a sip of black African 
coffec and whispered asides to deferential 
aides, the dark-suited minister of Har- 
lem's Muslim. Temple Number Seven 
spoke with candor and — except for mo- 
ments of impassioned execration of all 
whites — the impersonal tone of a self- 
assured corporation executive, 

Many will be shocked by what he has 
to say; others will be outraged. Our own 
view is that this interview is both an 


cloquent statement and a damning self- 
indictment of one noxious facet of ramp- 
ds such, we believe it merits 
publication — and vending. 


ant racism 


PLAYBOY. What is the ambition of the 
Black Muslims? 
NALCOIM X: Freedom, justice and equality 


“Verwoerd is an honest white man. So 
are the Barnetts, Eastlands and Rockwells. 


They want to keep white people white; 
we want to keep black people black.” 


53 


PLAYBOY 


54 


аге our principal ambitions. And to faith- 
fully serve and follow the Honorable 
Elijah Muhammad is the guiding goal of 
every Muslim. Mr. Muhammad. teaches 
us the knowledge of our own selves, and 
of our own people. He cleans us up — 
morally, mentally and. spiritually — and 
reforms us of the es that have 
blinded us here in the Western society. 
He stops black men from getting drunk, 
stops their dope addiction if they had 
it, stops nicotine, gambling, stealing, 
lying, cheating, fornication, adultery, 
prostitution, juvenile delinquency. 1 
think of this whenever somebody talks 
about someone investigating us. Why 
investigate the Honorable Elijah Mu- 
hammad? They should subsidize him. 
He's deaning up the mess that white 
men have made. He's saving the Govern- 
ment millions of dollars, taking black 
men olf of welfare, showing them how to 
do something for themselves. And Mr. 
Muhammad teaches us love for our own 
kind. The white man has taught the 
black people in this country to hate 
themselves as inferior, to hate cach other, 
to be divided against each other. Mes- 
senger Muhammad restores our love for 
our own kind, which enables us to work 
together in unity and harmony. He shows 
us how to pool our financial resources 
and our talents, then to work together 
toward a common objective. Among 
esses in 
most major cities in this country. and we 
want to crcate many more. We arc taught 
by Mr. Muhammad that it is very im- 
portant to improve the black man's 
economy, and his thrift. But to do this, 
we must have land of our own, The 
brainwashed black n can never learn 
to stand on his own two feet until he is 
on his own. We must learn to become 
our own producers, manufacturers and 
waders; we must have industry of our 
own, to employ our own. The white man 
sts this because he wants to keep the 
k n under his thumb and jurisdic- 
tion in white society. He wants to keep 
the blick man always dependent and 
begging — for jobs, food, clothes, shelter, 
education. The white man doesn’t want 
to lose somebody to be supreme over. 
He wants to keep the black man where 
he can be watched and retarded. Mr. 
mmad teaches that as soon as we 
їс from the white man, we will 
n that we can do without the white 
n just as he can do without us. The 
white man knows that once black men 
get off to themselves and learn they 
«an do for themselves, the black man's 
full potential will explode and he will 
surpass the white ma 
PıaYBOY: Do you {ссі that the Black Mus- 
lims' goal of obtaini “several states” 
i 
macom x: Well, you might consider 
some things pra that are really im- 
practical. W: it impractical that the 


other things, we have small bu 


ic. 


а 


practical vision? 


Supreme Court could issue a desegrega- 
tion order nine years ago and there's 
still only eight percent compliance? Is it 
practical that a hundred years after the 
Civil War there’s not freedom for black 
men yet? On the record for integration 
you've got the. President, the. Congress, 
the Supreme Court — but show me your 
integration, where is it? That's practical? 
Mr. Muhammad teaches us to be for 
whats really practical — that's separa- 
tion. It’s more natural than integration. 
PLAYBOY: In the view of many, that is 
highly debatable. However: In a recent 
interview, Negro author-lecturer Louis 
Lomax said, "Eighty percent, if not 
nore, of America's 20,000,000 Negroes 
vibrate sympathetically with the Mus- 
lims’ indictment of the white power 
structure. But this does not 1 we 


agree with them in their doctrines of 
ези 
olu 


ngement or with their proposed res- 
ns of the race problem.” Does this 
w represent а consensus of opinion 
among № And if so, is it possible 
that your separationist and anti-Chris- 
tian doctrine have the effect of alien- 
ating many of your race? 

MALCOLM X: Sir, you make a mistake listen- 
ing to people who tell you how much 
our stand alienates black men in this 
country. I'd guess actually we have the 
sympathy of 90 percent of the black 
people. There are 20,000,000 dormant 
Muslims in America. A Muslim to us is 
somebody who is for the black man; 1 
don't care if he goes to the 
Church seven days a week. The Honor- 
able Elijah Muhammad says that a black 
man is born a Muslim by nature. There 
are millions of Muslims not aware of it 
now. All of them will be Muslims when 
they wake up; that's what's meant by Ше 
Resurrection. 

Sir, I'm g 
black man 
white people think he is. The black 
has survived in this country by fool 
the . . He's been dancing 
grinning and white men never guessed 
what he was thinking. Now you'll hear 
the bourgeois Negroes pretending to be 
alienated, but they're just making the 
white man (ink they don't go for wh, 
Mr. Muh 1 is saying. This Ne; 
that will tell you he's so against us, he's 
just protecting the crumbs he gets from 
the white man's table. This kind of 
Negro is so busy trying to be like the 
white man that he doesn't know what 
the real masses of his own people are 
thinking. A fine car and house and 
clothes and liquor have made a lot think 
themselves different. from their poor 
black brothers. But Mr. Muhammad 
says that Allah is going to wake up all 
black men to see the white man as he 
really is, and see what Christianity has 
done to them. The black masses that are 
waking up don’t believe in Christianity 


g to tell you а secret: the 
whole lot smarter than 


mma 


anymore. All its done for black men is 
help to keep them slaves. Mr. Muham- 
mad is teaching that Christianity, as 
white people see it, means that whites 
can have their heaven here on carth, but 
the black man is supposed to catch his 
hell here. The Ы 

keep believi t when he dies. he'll 
float up to some city with golden 
streets and. milk and honey on a cloud 
somewhere. Every black man in North 
a has heard black Christian 
preachers shouting about "tomorrow in 
good old Beulah’s Land.” But the think 
ing black masses today are interested in 
Muhammad's Land. The Promised Land 
the Honorable Elijah. Muhammad 
talks about is right here on this earth. 
Intelligent black men today are 
ested in a religious doctrine that offers а 
solution to their problems right now 
ht here on this earth, while they are 


t understand that the Honor- 
able Elijah Muhammad represents the 
fulfillment of Biblical prophecy to us. In 
the Old Testament. Moses lived to see 
his enemy, Pharaoh, drowned in the Red 
Sca — which in essence means that Mr 
Muhammad will see the completion ol 
his work in his lifetime, that he will live 
to see victory gained over his enemy. 

PLAYBOY. The Old Testament connec- 
tion seems tenuous. Are you referring to 


the Muslim judgment day which your 
organization's newspaper, Muhammad 
Speaks. calls “Armageddon” and prophe- 


sies as imminen 
MALCOM x: Armageddon deals with the 
final battle between God and the Devil. 
The Third World War is referred to as 
Armageddon by many white statesmen. 
"There won't be any more war after then 
because there won't be any more war 
mongers. I don't know when Armaged- 
don, whatever form it takes, is supposed 
to be. But I know the time is near when 
the white man will be finished. The signs 
are all around us. Ten years ago you 
couldn't have paid a Southern Negro to 
defy local customs. The British Lion's tail 
has been snatched off in bi The 
Indonesians haye booted out such would- 
be imperialists as the Dutch. The French 
who felt for a century that Algeria w 
theirs, have had to run for their lives 
back to France. Sir, the point I make 
is that all over the world, the old da 
in fear and trembling before 
hey white man is gone! 
PLAYBOY: You refer to whites as the guilty 
and the enemy: you predict divine retri- 
bution against them; and you preach 
solute separation from the white com- 
munity, Do not these views substantiate 
that your movement is predicted on 
race hatred? 

MALCOLM X: s from Mr. Muhammad 
that the black masses arc learning for 
the first time in 400 years the real truth 


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of how the white man brainwashed the 
black man, kept him ignorant of his 
uue history, robbed bim of his self- 
confidence. The black masses for the 
first time are understanding that it's not 
а case of being white or anti-Chris- 
tian, but it's a case of seeing the true 
nature of the white man. We're anti-evil, 
anti-oppression lynching. You can’t 
be anti those things unless you're also 
anti- the oppressor and the Iyncher. You 
can't be antislavery and pros 
you can't be anti-crime and pig cin 
In fact, Mr. Muhammad teaches that if 
the present. generation of whites would 
study their own race in the light of their 
true history, they would be anti-white 
themselves. 

PLAYBOY: Are you? 

MALCOLM X: As soon as the white 
hears а black man say that he's through 
loving white people, then the w 
accuses the black man of hating him. 
The Honorable Elijah Muhammad. 
doesn’t teach hate. The white n nt 
important enough for the Honorable 
Elijah Muh ad and his followers to 
spend any time hating him. The white 
man has brainwashed himself. into be- 
lieving that all the black people in the 
world want to be cuddled up next to 
him. When he meets what we're talking 
about, һе can't believe it, it takes all the 
wind out of him. When we tell hi 
don ant to be around him, we don't. 
want to be like he is, he's staggered. It 
makes him reevaluate his $00-year myth 
about the black man. What | want to 
know is how the white man, with the 
blood of black people dripping olf his 
fingers, can. have the audacity to be ask- 
ing black people do they hate him. That 
takes а lot of nerve. 

PLAYBOY: How do you reconcile your dis 
avowal of hatred with the announcement 
you made last year that Allah. had 
brought you "the good news" that 120 
white Atlantans had just been. killed in 
an air crash en route to America from 
Paris? 

MALCOM X: Sir, as 1 see the law ol justice, 
уз as you sow, so shall you reap. The 
white man has reveled аз the rope 
snapped black men's necks He has 
reveled around the lynch fire. It's 
only right for the black man's true God, 
Allah, to defend us — and. for us to be 
joyous because our God manifests his 
ability to inflict pain on our enemy. 
We Muslims believe that the white 
race, which is guilty of having oppressed 
and exploited and enslaved our people 
here in America, should and will be 
the victims of God's divine wiath, АП 
civilized societies in their courts of ju 

tice set a sentence of execution 
those deemed to be enemies of society, 
such as murderers and. kidnapers. The 
presence of 20,000,000 black people here 
in America is proof that Uncle Sam is 


ivenuster; 


n we 
E 


nst 


guilty of kidnaping — because we did't 
come here voluntarily on the Mayflower 
And 100 years ol lynchings condemn 
Uncle Sam as a murderer. 
PLAYBOY. We question that. allinclusive 
generalization, To return to your state 
ment about the plane crash, when Dr 
Ralph Bunche heard about it, he called 
you “mentally depraved.” What is your 
reaction 
MALCOLM X: | know all about what Dr. 
Bunche said. He's always got his inter 
ional mouth open, He apologized in 
UN when black people protested 
there. You'll notice that whenever the 
white man lets a black man get promi- 
nent, he has a job for him. Dr. Bunche 
serves the white man well — he repre 
sents, speaks for and defends the white 
man. He docs none of this for the black 
тап. Dr. Bunche has functioned as а 
white man's tool, designed to influence 
international opinion on the Negro. 
The white man has Negro local tools, 
national tools, and Dr. Bunche i 
international tool. 
PLAYBOY: Dr. Dunche was only onc of 
many prominent Negroes who deplored 
your statement in similar terms. What 
reply have you to make t these spoke 
men for your own people? 
MALCOLM X. Go ask their opi 
you'll be able to fill your notebook with 
what white people want to hear Negroes 
say. Let's take these so-called spokesmen 
for the black men by types. Start with 
the politicians. They never attack Mr. 
Muhammad. personally. They realize he 
as the sympathy of the black masses. 
They know they would alienate the 
masses whose votes they need. But the 
black civic leaders, they do attack Mr 
Muhammad. The reason is usually that 
they are appointed t0 their positions 
by the white man. The white man pays 
them to attick us. The ones who attack 
Mr. Muhammad the most are the oncs 
who carn the most, Then take the black 
ious leaders, they also atack Mr. 
Muhammad. These preachers do it out 
of seli-defense. because they know he's 
waking up Negroes. No one believes 
what the Negro preacher preaches ex 
cept those who are mentally asleep, or 
in the darkness of ignorance about the 
true situation of the black man herc 
today in this wilderness of North Ameri 
If you will take note, sir, many so- 
led Negro leaders who once attacked 
the Honorable Elijah Muhammad don't 
do so anymore. And he never speaks 
ist them in the personal sense ex- 
ction if they speak against 
religion that teaches us 
k, never to be the aggressor 
— but you can waste somebody if he 
attacks you. These Negro leaders h 
become aware that whenever the Honor- 
able Elijah Muhammad i 
their attack to level his 
them, they always come out on the 


ions and 


cept as a re 
him. Islam 
never to atti 


ve 


losing end. Many have experienced. this. 
ptaysoy: Do you adn. 


пе and respect any 
other American Negro leaders—Martin 
Luther Ki 
MALCOLM x: I am a Muslim, sir. Muslims 


for example? 


can see only one leader who has the 
ч 
ments of black people in America. This 
is the Honorable Elijah Muhammad 
PLAYBOY: Many white religious leaders 
have also gone on record against the Black 
Muslims. Writing in the official NAACP 
magazine, a Catholic priest described you 
as "a fascist-minded һа 
B'nai B'rith has accused you of being 
not only anti-Christian but anti-Semitic 
Do you consider this true? 

MALCOLM X: Insofar as the Christian world 
is concemed, dictatorships have existed 
only in areas or countries where you 
have Roman Catholicism. Catholicism 
conditions your mind [or dictators. Can 
you think of a single Protestant country 
dictator? 


ations necessary to unite all cle- 


c group," and 


that has ever produced 
тлүвоү: Germany was predominantly 
Protest 


ant when Hitler — 


matcoum x: Another thing to think of — in 
the 90th. Century, the Christian Church 
has given us two heresies: fascism and 
communism. 


тдүвдү: On what grounds do you attrib- 


ute these “isms” to the Christian 
Church? 
matcoum х: Where did fascism start? 


Where's the second-largest Communist 
party outside of Russia? The answer to 
both is Italy. Where is the Vatican? But 
lets not forget the Jew. Anybody that 
giv n a just criticism of the Jew is 
instantly labeled anti-Semite, The Jew 
cries louder than anybody else if any- 
body criticizes him. You can tell the 
truth about any minority in America, but 
make a true observation about the Jew, 
and if it doesn't pat him on the bac 
then he uscs his grip on the news media 
to label you anti-Semite, Let me say just 
a word about the Jew and the black man. 
The Jew is always anxious to advise the 
black man. But they never advise him 
how to solve his problem the way the 
Jews solved their problem. The Jew 
never went sittingin and crawling. 
and sliding.in and freedom-riding, like 
he teaches and helps Negrocs to do. The 
Jews stood up, and stood together, and 
they used their ultimate power, the eco 
nomic weapon. That's exactly what the 
Honorable Elijah Muhammad is trying 
to teach black men to do. The Jews 
pooled their money and bought the ho- 
tels that barred them. They bought At- 
lantic City and Miami Beach and any- 
thing else they wanted, Who owns Holly- 
wood? Who runs the garment industry 
the largest industry in New York Gity? 
But the Jew that's advising the Negro 
joins the NAACP, CORE, the Urban 


League, and others. With money dona- 
the Jew gains control, then he 
sends the black man doi 


tion: 


Il this wad- 


ingin, boringin, even buryingin— 


everyth 


g but buying in. Never shows 


him how to set up factories and hotels 
Never advises him how to own what he 
wants. No, when there's 
worth owning, the Jew's got it. 

PLAYBOY: Isn't it truc that many Gentiles 
have also labored with dedication to 
advance integration and economic im- 
provement for the Negro, аз volunteer 
workers for the NAACP, CORE and 
many other interracial agencies? 
MALCOLM X: A man who tosses worms in 
the river isn't necessarily a friend of the 
fish, All the fish who take him for a 
friend, who think the worm's got no hook 
in it, usually end up in the fry 
All these things dangled before us by the 
liberal posing as a friend and 
benefactor have turned out to be noth 


something 


g pan. 


white 


ing but bait to make us think we're 
ag The Supreme Court 
decision has never been enforced. Deseg- 
regation has never taken place. The 
promises have never been fulfilled. We 
have received only tokens, substitutes, 
trickery and deceit. 

тлүвоү: What motives do you impute to 
rrAYBOY for providing you with this 
opportunity for the {ree discussion of 
your views? 

MALCOLM X: I think you want to sell mag 
zines, I've never seen a sincere white 
man, not when it comes to helping black 
people. Usually things like this аге done 
by white people to benefit themselves. 
The white man’s primary interest is not 
to elevate the thinking of black people, 
or to waken black people, or white 
people either. The white man is inter- 
ested in the black man only to the extent 
that the black man is of use to him. The 
white man's interest is to make money, 
to exploit. 


mak 


progress. 


тлүвоү: Is there any white man on carth 
whom you would concede to have the 
ro's welfare genuinely at heart? 


MALCOLM x. Т say, sir, that you can never 
c an intelligent judgment. without 
evidence. If any man will study the en- 
tire history of the relationship between 
the white man and the black man, no 
evidence will be found that justifies any 
confidence or faith that the black man 
might have in the white man today. 
т\дүвоү: Then you consider it impos- 
sible for the white man to be anything 
but an exploiter and a hypocrite in his 
relations with the Negro? 


MALCOLM X; Is it wrong to att 
disposition to wheat before it comes up 
out of the ground? Wheat's characteris- 
tics and nature make it wheat. It differs 
from barley because of its nature. Wheat 
perpetuates its own characteristics just 


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as the white race does. White people are 
born devils by nature. They don't be- 
come so by deeds. If you never put 
popcorn in a skillet, it would still bc 
pope Put the heat to it, it will pop. 
PLAYBOY. You say that white men are 
devils by nature. Was Christ a devil? 
MALCOLM х: Christ wasn't white. Christ 
was a black man. 

PLAYBOY: On what Scripture do you base 
this assertion 
MALCOLM X: Sir, Billy Graham has made 
tc tin public. Why not 
ask him what Scripture he found it in? 
When Pope Pius XII died, Life magazine 
carried a picture of him in his private 
study knecling before а black Christ. 
PLAYBOY: Those are Чу quotations 
from Scripture. Was He not reviled as 
“King of the Jews"-a people the Black 
Muslims attack? 

MALCOLM X: Only the poor, br: 
American Negro has been made to be- 
ve that Christ was white, to mancuver 
m into worshiping the white man. 


the same si 


washed 


After becoming a Muslim in prison, 
1 read almost everything 1 could put 
my hands on in the prison library. I 


ın to think back on everything 1 had 


1 and especially with the histories, I 
ed thal nearly all of them read by 
the general public have dle into 


I found out that the 
history-wl process either had left 
out great t black me 
done. or some of the great black men 
had gotten whitened. 

PLAYBOY: Would you list а few of these 
men? 

MALCOLM X: Well, Hannibal, the most suc- 
cessful al that ever 1 
n. So was Beethove 
ven's Гас one of the blackamoors 
hired themselves out in Europe as 
ia] soldiers. Haydn, Beethoven's 
as of African descent. Colui 
bus, the discoverer of America, wa 
half-black man. 

тлүвоү: According to biographies con- 
«4 definitive, Beethoven's father, 
Johann, was a court tenor logne; 
Haydn's parems were Croatian; Colum- 
bus parents were Italian: 
matcoum х, Whole black empires, like 
the Moorish, have been whitened to hide 
the fact that a great black empire had 
conquered a white empire even before 
America was discovered. The Moorish 
civilization — black Africans — conquered 
and ruled Spain; they kept the light 
burning in Southern Europe. The word 
"Moor" means "black, by the way. 
ptian civilization is a classic example 
the wil stole great 
n cultures and makes them appear 
as white European. The black na- 
tion of Egypt is the only country that 
has a science named after its culture: 
Egyptology. The ancient Sumerians, a 
black-skinned people, occupied the Mid- 


white histor 


of how man 


dle Eastern areas and w 
with the Egyptian civil 
the Aztecs, the Mayans, 
Indian people, had a H 
culture here in. America 


ion. The I 
1l dark 
ighly developed 
in what is 


шор 
ple were still living in mud hu 
ng weeds. But white childr 
black children, or grownups here today 
in America don't get to read this in the 
books they are exposed to. 
PlAYBOY, Can you cite any authoritative 
histor documents for these observa- 
tions? 

MALCOLM X: I can cite a great many, sir. 
You could start with Herodotus, the 
Greek historian. He outright described 
the Egyptians as "black, with woolly 
hair." And the American archacologist 
and Egyptolosist James Henry Breasted 
did the same thing. 

PLAYBOY. You seem to have based your 
thesis on the premise that all nonwhite 
races are necessarily black. 

matcoum x: Mr. Muhammad says that the 
red, the brown and the yellow are in- 
deed all part of the black nation. Which 
that black, brown, red, yellow, all 
brothers, all are one family. TI 
white one is a stranger. He's the odd 
fellow. 

PLAYBOY; Since your classification of black 
peoples apparently includes the light 
skinned Oriental, Middle Eastern and 
possibly even Latin races as well as the 
darker Indi and Negroid strains, just 
how do you decide how light ned it's 
permissible to be before being con- 
demned as white? And if Caucasian 
whites are dev ature, do you 
sily people by degrees of devilishness 
according to the lightness of their skin? 
MALCOLM x: | don’t worry about these 
itle technicaliues. But I know that 
white society has always considered that 
one drop of black blood makes you 
black. To onc drop can do this, 
it only shows the power of one drop of 
black blood. And I know another thing 
— that ots who used to be light 
enough to pass for white have seen the 
handwriting on the wall and arc begi 
to come back and identify with 
their own kind. And white people who 
also are seeing the pendulum of time 
catching up with them are now trying to 
join with blacks, or even find traces of 
black blood in their own veins, hoping 
that it will save them from the catas 
trophe they see ahead. But no devil can 
fool God. Muslims have a little poem 
about them. It gocs, "One drop will 
make you black, and will also in days to 
come save your sou 
PLAYBOY: As one of this vast elite, do you 
hold the familiar majority attitude to- 
ward minority groups — regarding the 


me 


E 


s by 


white race, in this case, as inferior in 
quality as well as quantity to what you 
call the "black nation"? 
marcom х: Thoughtful white people 
know they are inferior to black people. 
Even Eastland knows it. Anyone who has 
studied the genetic phase of biology 
knows that white is considered recessive 
and black is considered dominant. When 
you want strong coffee, you ask for black 
coffee. II you want it light, you want it 
weak, integrated with white milk. Just 
like these Negroes who weaken them- 
selves and their race by this integrating 
and intermixing with whites. II you 
want bread with no nutritional value. 
you ask for white bread. All the good 
that was in it has been bleached out of 
it, and й will constipate you. II you 
want pure flour, you ask for dark flour, 
whole-wheat flour. If you want pure 
sugar, you want dark sugar. 
PLAYBOY: If all whites are devilish by 
nature, as you have alleged, and if black 
and white are essentially opposite, as 
you have just stated, do you view all 
black men — with the exception of their 
non-Muslim Icaders as fundamentally 
angelic? 
matcoum x: No, there is plenty wrong 
Negroes. They have no society. 
They're robots, automatons. No minds 
of their own. T hate to say that about 
us, but it’s the truth. They are a 
black body with a white brain. Like the 
monster Frankenstein. The top part is 
your bourgeois Negro. He's your inte- 
grator. He's not interested in his poor 
black brothers. He's usually so deep in 
© mai 


with 


debt from trying to copy the w "s 
social habits that he doesn't have time to 
worry about nothing else. They buy the 
most expensive clothes and. cars and eat 
the cheapest food. They act more like 
the white man than the white man does 
himself. These are the ones that hide 
their sympathy for Mr. Muhammad's 
teachings, It conflicts with the sources 
from which they get their whiteanan's 
crumbs. This dass to us are the fence- 
sitters. They have one eye on the white 
man and the other eye on the Muslims. 
They'll jump whichever way they sec the 
wind blowing. Then there's the middle 
class of the Negro masses, the ones not in 
the ghetto, who realize that lile is a 
struggle, who are conscious of all the 
Injustices being done and of the constant 


state of insecurity in which they live. 
They're ready t0 take some stand against 
everything that's against them. Now 


when this group hears Mr. Muhammad's 
teachings, they are the ones who come 
forth faster and identify themselves, and 
take immediate steps toward uying to 
bring into existence what Mr. Muham- 
mad advocates, At the bottom. of the 
social heap is the black man in the big- 
city ghetto. He lives night and day with 
the rats and cockroaches and drowns 


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himself with alcohol and anesthetizes 
himself with dope, to uy amd forget 
where and what he is. That Negro has 
ven up all hope. He's the hardest one 
for us to reach, because he's the deepest 
in the mud. But when you gt him, 
you've got the best kind of Muslim. Be 
cause he makes the most drastic change. 
He's the most fearless. He will stand the 
longest. He has nothing to lose, even his 
life, because he didn't have that in the 
first place. 1 look upon mysell, sir, as a 
prime example of this category — and as 
graphic an example as you could find of 
the salvation of the black mar 
PLAYBOY: Could you give us a brief review 
of the carly life that led to your own 
salvation"? 

MALCOLM X: Gladly. Ew born in Omaha 
on May 19, 1925. My light color is the 
rcult ol my mother's mother havin 
been rap.d by a white man. | bate every 
drop of white blood in mc. Before I am 
indicted for hate a ir — is it wrong 
10 hate the blood of a rapist? But to con- 
tinue: My father was a militant follower 
of Marcus Garvey's “Back to Africa 
The Michigan, 
lent of the K ws 


movement. 
equi ed 
him to stop preaching Garvey's message 
but he kept оп and one of my earliest 
memories is of being snatched awake one 
night with a lot of screaming going on be- 
cause our home was afire. But my lather 
got louder about Garvey, and the next 
time he was found bludgeoned in the 
head, lying across streetcar tracks, He died 
soon fami па bad way. 
We were so hungry we were dizzy and 
we had nowhere to turn, Finally the 
authorities came in and we children 
were scattered. about. in dillerent. places 
public wards. Е happened to become 
the ward of a white couple who ran 

correctional school for white boys. This 
nily liked me in the way they liked 
their house pets. They got me enrolled 
in an all-white school. 1 was popular, 
1 played sports and everything, and 
studied hard, and I stayed at the head of 
my class through the eighth grade. That 
summer I was H, but I was big enough 
gh to get away with 
got a job 
of a wain 


d our 


y was 


nd looked old спо; 
telling a lie th 
working in the di 
that 
City. 

On my layovers in New York, I'd go 
to Harlem. That's where 1 saw in the 
bars all these men and women with what 
looked Jike the easiest life in the world. 


Plenty of money, big cars, all of it 1 
could tell they were in the rackets and 
vice. I hung around those bars whenever 


I came in town, and I kept my ears and 
eyes open and my mouth shut. Aud they 
kept their eyes on me, too. Finally, one 
day a numbers man told me that he 
needed a runner, and 1 never caught the 
night train back to Boston. Right there 
was when 1 started my life in crime. 1 


was in all of it that the white police and 
the gangsters lelt open to the black 
criminal, sir. | was in numbers, bootleg 
liquor, "hot" goods, women. 1 sold the 
bodies of black women to white men, 
and white women to black me l was in 
cvil you could 
name, The only thing E could say good 
for myself, sir, was that 1 did not indulge 
in hitting anybody over the head. 

PLAYBOY: By the time you were 16, accord- 
ing to the record, you had several men 
working lor you in these various enter 
prises. Right? 
MALCOLM X: Үс: 


dope, L was in everythin; 


‚ sir. 1 turned the things 1 


mentioned to you over to them. Aud 1 
had a good working system of paying oll 


policemen, It was here that 1 learned 
that vice and Gime can only exist, at 
least the kind and level that I was to 
the degree that the police cooperate with 
it. I had several men working and E was 
steerer myself. I steered white people 
with money [rom downtown to whatever 
kind of sin they wanted in Harlem. 1 
didn't care what they wanted, I knew 
where to take them to it. And I tell you 
what I noticed here — that my best cus 
tomers always were the olficials, the top 
police people, businessmen, politicians 
nd agyinen. D never lorgot that 
1 met all levels of these white people, 
supplied. them with everything they 
wanted, and. 1 saw that they were just a 
filthy race of devils. But despite the fact 
that father was 
whites, and 1 had seen my people all my 
life brutalized by whites, | was still blind 
cnough to mix with them and socialize 
with them. 1 thought they were gods 
and goddesses — until Mr. Muhammad's 
powerlul spiritual message opened. my 
eyes and enabled me to see them as а 
сє of devils, Nothing had made me see 

white man as h il one word 
from the Honorable Elijah Muhammad 
opened my eves overnis 
PLAYBOY: When did this happen? 
MALCOLM X: In prison. I was li 


my ow murdered by 


and spent 77 months in three different 


prisons. But it was the greatest U 
that ever happened to me, because it 
prison that I first heard the teach- 
able Elijah Muham- 
s were what turned 
d ihi 


was i 
ings of the Hono 
mad. His teachi 
me around. The first time I hi 
Honorable Elijah Muhammad's state 
ment, “The white man is the devil,” it 
just clicked. 1 am a good example of why 
Islam is spreading so rapidly across the 
land. 1 was nothing but another convict, 
ne criminal. Mr. Muham- 
able to reach into 
prison, which is the level where people 
¢ considered to have fallen as low a 
they can go. His teachings brought me 
from behind prison walls and placed 
me on the podiums of some of the lead- 
ing colleges and universities in the coun- 
пу. 1 often think. sir, tha 1946, 1 
was sentenced to 8 to 10 years in Cam- 


S wer 


bridge, Massachusetts, as a common thief 
who had never ү d the eighth grade. 
And the next time 1 went back to Cam- 
bridge was in March 1961, as а guest 
at the Harvard Law School 
This is the best example of Mr. 
Muhammad's y thing and 
make something, to take nobody and 
miake somebody 

PLAYBOY: Your rise to prominence in the 
Muslim organization has been so swift 
that a number of your own membership 
have рапса you as their arüculate exem- 
plar, and many anti-Muslims regard you 
as the real brains and power of the move- 
ment. What is your reaction to this sud- 
den eminence? 

MALCOLM X: Sir, it’s heresy to imply that 


lam in апу way whatever even equal 
to Mr. Muhammad. No m 
today is his equal. Whatev 


is good, it is through what I 
taught by Mr. Muhammad. 
тлүвоү: Be that a 
near when your leader, who is 65, will 
have to retire from leadership of the 
Muslim movement. Many observers pre- 
dict that when this day comes, the new 
Messenger of Allah in America — a role 
which you have called the most powerful 
of any black man in the world — will be 
Malcolm X. How do you feel about 
this prospect? 

matcoun X: Sir, 1 can ошу say that God 
chose Mr. Muhammad as his Messenger, 
and My, Muhammad chose me and many 
others to help him. Only God has the 
sayso. But 1 will tell you one thing. I 
frankly don't believe that 1 or anyone 
che am worthy to succeed Mr. Muham- 
mad. No onc preceded him. I don't think. 
1 could make the sacrifice he has made, 
or set his good example. He has don 
more than lay down his life. But his 
work sady done with the seed he 
has planted among black people. II Mr. 
Muhammad and every identifiable fol- 
lower he has, certainly including myself, 
were tomorrow removed from the scene 
by more of the white man’s brut 
there is one thing to be sure of: 
Muham gs of the 
trith have fallen upon fertile so 
),000,000 black men here in this wilder- 
ness of North America. 

тдүвоү: Has the soil, in your opinion, 
been as fertile for Mr. Muhammad's 
teachings elsewhere in the world — 
mong the emerg tions of black 
Africa, for instance? 

marcom x: | think not only that his 
teachings have had considerable impact 
even in Africa. but that the Honorable 
Elijah Muhammad has had a greater 
impact on the world than the rise of the 
African nations. I say this as objectively 
I can, being a Muslim, Even the Chris- 
tian missionaries are conceding that in 
black. Africa, for every Christian conver- 
sion, there are two M 


ls teach 


mong 


п conversions. 
PLAYBOY. Might conversions be cven more 


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PLAYBOY 


62 


numerous if it weren't for the somewhat 
strained relations which are said by sev- 
eval Negro writers to exist between the 
black people of Africa and America? 

MALCOM X. Perhaps. You see, the Ameri- 
can black man sies the African. come 
he e where the American black 
man The Negro secs the. Afri 
come here with a sheet on and go places 
where the Negro — dressed like a white 
man, talking like a white man, sometimes 
is Wealthy as the white man can't go. 
When I'm traveling around the country, 
I use my real Muslim name, Malik Sha- 
bazz. | mike my hotel reservations under 
that ne, and I always see the same 
thing I've just been telling you. I come 
to the desk and always see that “here- 
comesa- Negro“ look. It's kind of a re- 


served, coldly tolerant cordiality. But 
when I say “Malik Shabazz,” their whole 
iude c : they snap to respect. 
They thi п African. People say 
what's in me? There's a whole lot 


name. The American black man is 
ng the African respected as а human 
ig. The African gets respect. because 
he has an identity and cultural roots. 
But most of all because the African owns 
some land. For these reasons he has his 
human rights recognized, and that makes 
his civil rights automatic. 

PLAYBOY: Do you feel this is true of 
Negro civil and human rights in South 
Africa, where the doctrine of apartheid 
is enforced by the government of Prime 
Minister Verwoerd? 

MALCOM х: They don't stand for any- 
thing different in South Africa than 
America stands for. The only dilference 
s over there they preach as well as prac- 
tice apartheid. America preaches freedom 
and practices slavery. America preaches 
integration and practices segregation. 
Verwoerd is an honest white п. So are 
the Barnetts, Faubuses, Eastlands and 
Rockwells. They want to keep all white 
people white. And we want to keep all 
black people black. As between the 
racists and the integrationists. 1 highly 
preler the racists. Vd rather walk among 
rattlesnakes, whose constant таце w 5 
me where they are, than among those 
Northern snakes who grin and make you 
forget you're still in a snake pit. Any 
white man is against blacks. The entire 
American economy is based on white 
supremacy. Even the religious philosophy 
is, in essence, white supremacy. A white 
Jesus. A white Virgin, White angels. 
White everything, Bur a black Devil, of 
The “Unde Sam” political 
ion is based on white supremacy, 
ing nonwhites to secon 5 
citizenship. It goes withont saying that 
the social philosophy is strictly white 
supremacist. And the educational system 
perpetuates white supremacy. 

PLAYBOY: Are you contradicting your- 
self by denouncing white supremacy 
while praising its practitioners, 
you admit that you share their 


-c 


separation? 
Malcom x: The fact that T prefer the 
candor of the Southern segregationist to 
the hypocrisy of the Northa 
aher the basic immo- 
rality of white supremacy. A devil is 
still a devil whether he wears a bed sheet 
or a Brooks Brothers suit. Honor 
able Elijah. Muh: s sepa 
tion simply be ible attempt 
10 integrate America completely would 
result im another Civil War, а са 
strophic explosion among whites which 
would destroy America — and. still 
solve the problem, But Mr. Muhammad's 
solution of separate black amd white 
would solve the problem neatly for both 
the white and black. man, and America 
would be saved. Then the whole world 
would give Uncle Sam credit lor being 
something other than а hypocrite, 
рїлүвоү: Do you feel that the Adminis- 
ws successful stand on the inte. 


пап 
gration of James Meredith into the 
Iniversity of Mississippi has demon- 
strated that the Government — far from 
being hypocritical — is sympathetic with 
the Negro's aspirations for equality 
MALCOLM х: What was accomplished? It 
took 15,000 troops to put. Meredith in 
the University of Mississippi. Those 
uoops and $3,000,000 — that’s what was 
spem —io get one Neg That 
$3,000,000 could have been used much 
more wisely by the al Government 
10 clevate the living standards of all the 
Negroes in Mississippi 

PLAYBOY. Then in your view, the prin- 
ciple involved was not worth the c 
pense, Yet it is a matter of record that 
President Kennedy. in the face of South. 
ern opposition, championed the appoint 
ment of Dr. Rol Weaver as the first 
Negro Cabinet member. Doesn't this in 
dicite to you, as it docs 10 many Negro 
leaders, that the Administration is de- 
termined to combat white supremacy? 
MALCOLM X: Kennedy doesirt have to fight; 
hes the President. He didn't have any 
fight replacing Ribicoll with Celebrezze. 
He didn't have any trouble putti 
berg on the Supreme Court, He hasn't 
had any trouble getting anybody in but 
Thurgood Marshall. He 


з integr 


tionist doesn't 


not 


o in. 


Fede: 


Weaver and 
wasn't worried about Congressional olb- 


S. Steel. 
Con- 
п reaction 
ı пе block- 


it comes to the 


jection when he challe 
He wasn’t worried 
gressional reaction or Rus 
or even world reaction whi 
aded Cuba. 
rights of the Negro, who helped to put 


wed U 


bout cither 


But when 


him in office, then he's afraid of little 
pockets of white resistance. 
PLAYBOY: Маз any American President, 


in your opinion — Lincoln, FDR, Tru 
man, Eisenhower, Kennedy — accom. 
plished anything for the Negra? 

MALCOLM X: None of them have ever done 
anything for Negroes. АШ of them 1 
wicked the Negro, and made false prom- 
ises to him at election t 


ve 


nes which they 


never fulfilled. Lincoln's concern wasn't 
freedom for the blacks but to the 
Union. 

PLAYBOY: Wasn't the Civil War fought to 
decide whether this nation could, in the 
words of Lincoln, “endure permanently 
half slave and half free"? 
MALCOLM X: Sir, many, many people arc 
completely misinformed about Lincoln 
and the Negro. That war involved two 
thieves, the North and the South, fight- 
ing over the spoils. The further we get 
away from the actual incident, the more 
they trying to make 
though the battle was over the 
man. Lincoln said that if he could save 
the Union without freeing the slaves, he 
would. But after two years of killing and 
carnage he found out he would have to 
free the slaves. He wasn't interested in 
the slaves but in the Union. As for the 
Emancipation Prodami 
an empty document. If it 
slaves, why, a century later, are we still 
battling for civil rights? 

PLAYBOY; Despite the fact that the goal of 


are it sound as 


freed the 


tators—agree that no minority group on 
carth has made as much social, civil and 
economic progress as the American Ne- 
s. What is your 


o in the paw 100 y 


reaction to this view 


MALCOLM x 1 he: 
SL exactly as you sta 
of the biggest myths that the American 
black man himself believes in. Every 
immigrant ethnic group that has come 
to this country is now а genuinely first- 
class citizen group — every one of them 
but the black man, who was here when 


ar that everywhere 
it. This is one 


shar 


they came. While everybody ele 
fruit, the black man is just now 
starting to be thrown some seeds. 1t is our 
hope that through the Honorable Elijah 
Muhammad, we will at last get the soil 
to plant the seeds in. You talk about the 
progress of the Negro TI tell. you, 
mister, it’s just becuse the Negro has 
been in America while America has g 
forward that the Negro appears to have 
gone forward. The Negro is like 
on a muter Gain doing 90 
miles an hour. He looks out of the wi 
dow, along with all the white passen 
in their Pullman chairs, and he thinks 
he's doing 90, too. Then he sets to the 
men's room and looks 
and he sees he’s not really getting any- 
where at all. His reflection shows a black 
man standing white uni- 
form of a « d. Не 
get on the 5:10, . but 

wot be getting oll at Westport 
PLAYEOY: Is there anything then, in your 
opinion, that could be done—by either 
whites or blicks—to expedite the social 
and cconomic progress of the Negro in 
America 
MALCOLM x: First of all, the white man 
must finally realize that he’s the onc who 


ing the 


c 


n 
luxury co 


the 


there in 


тау 
he sure 


has committed the crimes that have pro 
duced the miserable condition that our 
people are in. He can't hide this guilt 
by reviling us today because we answer 
his criminal acts — past and present — 
with extreme and uncompromising re- 
sentment. He cannot hide his guilt by 
ccusing us, his victims, of being racists, 
extremists and black. supremacists. The 
white man must realize that the sins of 
the fathers are about to be visited upon 
the heads of the children who have con- 
tinued those sins. only in more sophisti 
cated ways, Mr. Elijah. Muhammad. is 
warning this generation of white people 
that they, too, are also facing a ume of 
harvest in which they will have to pay 
lor the crime committed when the 
grandfathers made slaves out of us. 
But there is something the white man 
can do to rt this fate. He must atone 
id this can only be done by allowing 
black men, those who choose, to leave 
this land of bondage and go to a land 
of our own. But if he doesn't want a 
mass movement of our people away from 
this house of bondage, then he should 
separate this country. He should give us 
several states here on American soil, 
where those of us who wish to can go 
and set up our own government, our 
own economic system, our own civiliza- 
tion. Since we have given over 300 y 
of our slave labor to the white man's 
America, helped to build it up for him, 
it’s only right that white America should 
give us everything we need in finance 
and materials for the next 25 ye ul 
our own nation is able to stand on its 
feet. Then, if the Western Hemisphere is 
attacked by outside enemies, we would 
ve both the capability and the moti- 
vation to join in defending the h 
sphere, in which we would then have a 


jih Muhammad 
says that the black man has served under 
the rule of all the other peoples of the 
carth at one time or another in the past. 
He teaches that it is now God's intention 
to put the black man back at the top of 
civilization, where he was in the begin- 
ning — before Adam, the white man, was 
created. The world since Adam has been 
white — and corrupt. The world of to- 
morrow will be black — and. righteous. 
In the white world there has been noth- 
ing but slavery, sullering, death and 
colonialism. In the black world of tomor- 
row, there will be true freedom, justice 
and equality for all. And that day is 
coming —sooner than you think. 
PLAYBOY: If Muslims ultimately gain con- 
trol as you predict, do you plan to be- 
stow “true freedom“ on white people? 
MALCOLM Ж: It's not a case of what would 
we do, its a case of what would God 
do with whites, What does a judge do 
with the guilty? Either the guilty atone, 
ог God executes judgment. 


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THE PLAYBOY PHILOSOPHY 


the sixth part of a statement in which playboy's editor-publisher spells out—for friends 
and critics alike—our guiding principles and editorial credo 


THE OTHER AFTERNOON, while drawing up 
an outline of subjects to cover in this 
month's editorial, we received a tele- 
phone call from a New York agent (show 
biz, not literary) and in the course of the 
conversation, we mentioned that we were 
working on The Playboy Philosophy for 
May. He said that a few evenings earlier 
he had read the curent Philosophy 
aloud to his wife and they had then 
spent most of the rest of the evening di 
cussing it. If this edito: i 
very much of that sort of thing going 
around the country — prompting discus- 
sion and debate on the relative merits of 
the common and the uncommon man, 
individual initiative vs. security and con- 
formity as motives in modern socicty, 
the decper significance of religious frec- 
dom in America and the other subjects 
we've been expressing our own views on 
the last few issues — it will have been well 
worth the writing. We must confess that 
we fecl closer to our readers while work- 
ing on each new installment of The 
Playboy Philosophy than we have at any 
time since we began editing this journal 
rly 10 years ago and nothing we've 
previously done here at PLavuoy has 
given us any greater satisfaction or 
pleasure. 

It’s an interesting experience — organ- 
izing and setting down the fundamental 
ideas and ideals that have influenced and 
motivated one over the years. You find 
that in the very process of spelling out 
what you believe in, new truths begin 
taking form, new perspectives and rela- 
tionships that you had previously only 
been vaguely aware of start falling into 
place. Is a very stimulating process. 

We try to personally read all the mail 
that comes in on the Philosophy and 
there has been a considerable amount of 
it— more than on any previous article, 
series or feature we've ever published. 
The letters are all carcfully considered 
and we try to them into account as 
we draw up the subject outlines for fu- 
ture parts of this editorial. 

We don't expect very many of our 
readers to agree with all the points we 
make in The Playboy Philosophy, though 
most will probably agree with most of 
them — for it is the unusual rapport be- 
tween cditors and readers that has made 


editorial By Hugh M. Hefner 


PLAYBOY such a remarkable publishing 
phenomenon. But the single most si 
cant point we have tried to establish here 
is the importance of many varied and di- 
vergent opinions —it is through their 
free exchange and interplay that a de- 
mocracy thrives. 

In the March issue, we discussed the 
importance of religious freedom and the 
separation of church and state in апу 
society that is to remain truly free; we 
traced the history of American Purit 
ism and, last month, we pointed out how 
it has managed to insert itself into many 
of our laws and traditions, so as to frus- 
trate some of the guarantees of freedom 
that our founding fathers wrote into the 
U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights. 
Religious puritanism is never more insid- 
ious than when it succeeds in undermin- 
ing the free expression of words and id 
amongst us. In the April issue, we also 
pointed out that censorship can become 
so confused that single words — treated 
symbols, separate and apart from the 
jon, object or idea they may repre- 
sent — are often considered “obscene 
our culture; although granting such 
power to mere symbols might be likened 
to the worship of idols — specifically for- 
bidden by the Bible — and is, according 
to Judge Thurman Arnold, creating 
attitudes toward sex that arc akin to 
fetishism, 


OBSCENITY AND THE LAW 


The U.S. courts no longer accept the 
position that a single word or phrase 
can be legally obscene, so such censor- 
ship or suppression in America is actu- 
ly extralegal or outside the law; the 
U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that a 
work of art or literature — and. this i 
cludes any book, magazine, movie or 
play — must be judged in its entirety and 
no part of it may be considered alone. 
But while the courts have become i 
creasingly liberal in their interpretations 
of what constitutes obscenity in recent 
years, they still persist in judging our art 
and literature on the premise that ob- 
scenity docs indeed exist and that it is 
illegal and outside the protections gua 
меса to our freedoms of speech and 


h this premise that we 
sue. 

ny idea, no matter how re- 
pellent it may seem to some, that we 
can hope to expunge from the mind of 
man or afford to disallow in his writing 
or speech? As we have already said — and 
said again — our democratic way of life is 
built upon idcas and our nation's inncr 
strength is drawn from their free, un- 
hampered exchange — and not, as Con- 
gresswoman Kathryn Granahan would 
have us believe, from censoring those 
notions that do not particularly suit us 
at a particular time. History has proven, 
over and over again, that the most im- 
portant ideas are often not recognized as 
such when they are first expressed. 

Thomas Jefferson, author of the Dec 
laration of Independence, stated in his 
second inaugural address: "The press, 
confined to truth, needs no other 
straint . . . no other definite line can be 
drawn between the inestimable liberty 
of the press and demoralizing licentious 
ness." And in 1799 James Madison, chief 
hand in the drafting of the Constitution 
of the United States, wrote that to make 
a "distinction. between the freedom of 
and the licentiousness of the press” would 
subvert the First Amendment. 

Madison stated further: “Some degree 
of abuse is inseparable from the proper 
use of everything and in no instance is 
this more true than in that of the press. 
lt has accordingly been decided by the 
practice of the States, that it is better to 
leave a few of its noxious branches to 
their luxuriant growth than, by pruning 
them away, to injure the vigour of these 
yielding the proper fruit 

The founding fathers of this great 
democracy were ишп bly opposed to 
any exception in th n's guarantees 
of the freedoms of speech and press be- 
cause of supposed immoral, licentious, 
obscene or otherwise objectionable ideas 
that might be expressed, for they were 
convinced that no man, or group of men, 
or any government had the right to cur- 
ail the opinions of any other man or 
their free express 

Nothing in the 
ny reason to disagree with the 
of these first American patriots; 
n fact, a greater insight into the psycho- 


dte: 


nat 


given u 


wisco: 


65 


PLAYBOY 


66 


rs that influence man's be- 
additional rcasons for 


havior 
agreeing with Jefferson and Madison 


suppl 


that these most basic freedoms should 
not be abridged, Nevertheless, religious 
puritanism has subtly croded both the 


spirit and letter of this doctrine so that 
tod: is virtually lost to us. 
Only with the sexual revolution of the 


last de have we begun to win back 
some of this longlos freedom. We 
would like to establish here why we, our 
sell. are opposed to any manner of 
sorship and why the label of "obscene 
is mo just cause for suppressing any 
man's endeavor, no matter how signifi- 
cant or trivial. 


THE PROBLEM OF DEFINITION 


We do not believe that 
definition for obscenity ca 
established. 

The Supreme Court of the United 

States attempted a definition in 1957 in 
a split decision (7 to 2) in the case of 
U.S. vs. Roth. The high Court ruled that 
а work is obscene when “to the average 
person, applying contemporary commu- 
nity standards, the dominant theme of 
the material taken as a whole appe 
prurient interest.” This is the det 
currently used by the courts. 
It had the virtue of seriously curt 
ig the kind of arbitrary censorship that 
had previously prevailed. It included 
several specific directives: a work must 
be judged as a whole, not piecemeal; the 
ant theme must be prurient; 
dard for judgment must be an 
average member of the community, not 
an emotionally retarded adult and not a 
child. It confirmed that a mere discus- 
sion or portrayal of sex was not enough 
to automatically stamp a work "obscene"; 
on the contrary, the Supreme Court 
clearly recognized chit material dealing 
with sex was an essential part of the 
exposition of ideas protected by the 
Constitution and only those works d 
void of the “slightest redeeming social 
importance” were considered to be out- 
side the protective arms of the fundamen- 
tal law; unorthodox ideas, controversial 
even hateful to the prevail- 
te of opinion have the full pro- 
tection of the First Amendment. И also 
attempted to establish a distinction be- 
tween erotic. realism and pornography. 
However, as much-censored author D. H. 
Lawrence observed: "What is poruog- 
raphy to one man is the laughter of 
genius to another." 

Aud how does one go about “apply 
ng contemporary community stand- 
ards"? The community standards of a 
sophisticated urban area like San Fran- 
cisco are certainly not the same as those 
of a small town in Massachusetts. The 
y standards in the heart of a 
iot be the same as those 
y differ from. 


satisfactory 
ever be 


commun 
major city may 
of its suburbs; and both 


those to be found in the outlying rural 
areas; or in any particular part of a city 
where one particular ethnic or religious 
group predominates. Whose particular 
community standards do we apply? Is it 
to be the will of the majority? Or it 
the will of a well-educated and enlight- 


ed minority? And in any case, have 
we the right to deny the laughter of 
genius to one group on the ground that 


it is pornography to anothe 

Justice William O. Douglas of the 
Supreme Court has observed: “The 
standard of what offends ‘the common 
conscience of the community’ conflicts, 
in my judgment, with the command of 
the First Amendment that "Cong 
shall make no law . . . abridging thc 
freedom of speech, or of the press.” 
y thar standard would not be a 
acceptable one if religion, economics. 
politics or philosophy were involved. 
How docs it become a Constitutional 
Standard when literature treating with 
sex is concerned? 

“Any test that turns on what is offen- 
sive to the community's standards is too 
loose, too capricious, too destruc 
freedom of expression to be squ. 
the st Amendment. Under that test. 
juries can censor, suppress, and punish 
what they don’t like, provided the mat- 
to ‘sexual impurity’ or has a 
tendency to ‘excite lustful thoughts.’ This 
is community censorship in one of its 

ns. It creates a regime where, 
in the battle between the literati and the 
nes, the Philistines 


Moreover, the judicial assumption that 
pure pornography is without any “re- 
deeming social importance" is open to 
serious question. There is presently а 
considerable school of scientific opinion 
amongst authorities on. human. beh 
esting not simply that po 
is harmless, but that it may actu 
some value as a sublimat 


and rele: 


for pentup sexual frustrations 
desires. 
Any person who feels the censor's 


vengeful wrath may find some comfort in 
wledge that he is in illustrious 
y. for many of the world’s most 
honored writers, artists, poets and philos- 
ophers— the giants and the geniuses 
down through the ages — have known the 
scorn of their contemporaries and seen 
their works expurgated, Боха етіле, 
banned, burned and otherwise disfigured 
and destroyed. The list of the censored 
is a veritable Who's Who of philosophy 
art and literature: Homer, Confucius, 
Dante, Galileo, Shakespea on, 


Calvin, Thomas Paine, Thomas Jeiler- 
son, Goethe, Shelley, Balzac, Victor 
Hugo, Hawthorne, Hans Christian An- 


dersen, El eth Brown 
Darwin, Whium: 


Twain, Gilbert 


eu 


Maupassant. Shaw. Oscar Wilde, Kipling 
Jack London, James Joyce, D. H. Law- 
rence, Eugene O'Neill, Fa Hem- 


ingw ame but a 
few. 

Since the beginning of recorded his- 
tory there have been individuals deter- 
mined to force their own standards upon 
ir fellow теп. And time evitably 
proves that the “dangerous” work of art 
or literature of one generation is the 
classic of the next — that any contempo- 
rary condemnation of the spoken or the 
written word appears ridiculous to suc- 
ceeding generations. 

Even the Bible has faced a long history 
of censorship in many countries. When 
William Tyndale translated the Bible 
into English, his work was suppressed 
and in 1536 he was imprisoned, strangled 
and then burned at the stake along with 
his translations. 

Judge Thurm: 
Attorney Gen 


Arnold, past Assistant. 
I of the U.S. and cele- 
brated Associate Justice of the U.S, Court 
of Appeals, who wrote the famous deci 
sion in the Esquire obscenity case 
1946, has commented on the frustr 
and unintentional humor sometimes in- 
volved in a court's attempt to determine 
what is. and is not, obscene: as a partici- 
pant in the Playboy Panel on "Sex and 
Censorship in Literature and the Arts 
(rLavnoy, July 1961), Judge Arnold ob- 
served: “I remember that in the case of 


ion 


Sunshine Book Company vs. Summerfield 
vine —in the 


— involving a nudist ma 


in the magazine 
analyze which would cause prurient 
thoughts. He condemned some and 
passed others. The spectacle of a judge 
poring over the picture of some nude, 
to ascertain the extent to which 
rouses prurient interest —and then 
attempting to write an opinion that ex- 
plains the diff се between. that. nud 
and some other nude — elements of 
low comedy.” Judge Arnold once com- 
void arg 
e and what is 
ases of this kind is to hold that 
“no nudes is good nudes,” which he was 
unwilling to do. 

pold pointed out 
James made 
ing — comment оп the despi 
of “playing the game of defi 
trying to determine just what “hard-core 


that V 


am 


most telling — and amus 
te futility 


cussions are tedious — not as h; 
jects like physics or mathem 
throwing fc 
fter hour 
lis, clin 


hers end- 
tedious," 

ical. psychologist 
apist, authority on sex 
age, author of The Folklore of 


lessly hour 
Albert 


and coauthor 
neyelopedia of Se 
during the same Playboy Panel on “Sex 
and Censorship": "I don't believe that 


of the two-volume 
ual Behavior, said, 


— 


| 


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PLAYBOY 


the word ‘obscene’ c: 
conclusively defined.” 


CREEPING CENSORSHIP 


One of the great difficulties with cen- 
sorship of any sort is its unwillingness 
to stay put. It has a tendency to spread — 
and to contaminate other things around 
it. Once we accept the premise that 
any man or group or government has the 
right to dictate what the rest of us may 
read and listen to, what movies, p nd 
television programs we may watch, we've 
surrendered the ability to control the ex- 
cesses that are certain to follow. Once the 
creepy, crawly creature is let inside the 


house, there is no predicting where it 
t may 


may get to and whom fect. A 
t of banned books begins with some- 
thing called White Thighs and winds up 
with The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hem- 
ngway and J. D. Salinger's The Catcher 
in the Rye; a local movie censor begins 
by dipping all the nudes out of a 
"nudic" film (leaving almost nothing but 
the credits), graduates to snipping Brig- 
iue Bardot’s bare fanny out of The 
Truth and winds up mutilating Ingmar 
Bergman's Virgin Spring (or cutting 
“slut” out of a soundtrack, as a Mem- 
phis censor explained she'd done, be- 
cause it is “а word I have never heard 
used. before"). 

The charge of obscenity itself is some- 
times used as a cover for other things to 
which the censor objects: political, philo- 
sophical, social, medical, religious and 
ideas have all been damned at one 
time or another for being "obscene." 
This aspect of speech, art and literature 
that experts like Ellis doubt will ever be 
properly, conclusively defined," but 
which the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled 
is outside the protection of the Constitu 
tion, can thus be used by freedom’s en- 
cmies to thwart and throttle almost any 
opinion they oppo 


We quoted newspaper reports last 
ase against come- 


month on the Chicago c 
dian Lenny Bruce, indicating that while 
the formal charge was obscenity, “testi 
mony so far indicates that the prosecutor 
is at least equally concerned with Bruce's 
indictment of organized religion . . ." 
Criminal charges of obscenity were 
brought against the comic and a lic 
revocation proceeding was instituted 
inst The Gate of Horn, the club in 
which he was performing at the time of 
the arrest. Within the last 12 months, 
Bruce has also been arrested on charges 
of giving obscene performances in San 
Francisco and Los Angeles; he had al- 
ready been acquitted in a jury trial in 
San Francisco and the Los Angeles case 
E 
cago 
previous ca 


nse 


is still pending at the time of the Chi 


and tr neither of the 
es had any legal or adminis- 
taken against the 
club in which he appeared. 


rest 


The liquor license revocation proceed- 
ing was held before the trial to dete 
mine whether or not Bruce's act really 
was obscene. Variety reported, "After 
nearly a full day of hearing prosecution 
witnesses, it is evident that, in essence, 
Bruce is being wied in absentia, 

‘Another impression is that the city is 
going to a great deal of trouble to prose- 
cute Alan Ribback, the owner of the 
club, although there have been no pre- 
vious allegations inst the café and the 
charge involves no violence or drunk 
behavior. . . .” 

‘The Gate of Horn, Chicago's foremost 
café specializing in folk music, had its 
liquor license suspended for 15 days as a 
result of the hearing and owner Alan 
Ribback was forced to sell controlli 
interest in the establishment, because he 
was financially unable to reopen it on 
his own. 

"The trial was as incredible a spectacle 
as the hearing, though not for precisely 
the same reasons. In our opinion, Lenny 
Bruce is onc of the most brilliant, pc 
ceptive performers to appear or 
club stage in the last decade (a viewpoint 
we share with a diverse group of critics 
and commentators on the performing 
arts that includes Steve Allen, Kenneth 


Sorkin, Paul Krassner and Ralph Gle: 
son); Bruce is also compulsively careening 
down a road of personal self-destruction 
from which there seems to be no turning 
back, which only made the trial doubly 
pathetic. Lenny decided to act as his 
own defense attorney. 

As luck would have it, PLAYsOY was 
taping the performance the night of the 
arrest for a review we were planning on 
his uct (favorable); we have the entire 
evening on d. rack and it was introduced 
as evidence at the trial by Bruce. We 
weren't at the Gate that evening, but we 
have played the tape and, in our opinion, 
the judge should have handed down a 
directed verdict of not guilty. The liv 
yer who worked along with Bruce on 
the case made a motion to that effect, but 
was denied 

The religious considerations in the 


Variety reported 
Legal authorities " 
the arrest, 
of many café observers that performances 
h similar sexual content e been 
overlooked at other Chi clubs. It 
thought that Bruce's attacks on organ- 
ized religion may have been a deciding 
factor in making the arrest, or so the 
line of prosecution questions would in- 
dicate to date.” 

Variety further stated: “The religious 
aspect popped up inadvertently on the 
final day of the prosecution's testimony 
when 30 girl students Catholic 
college, who dropped in on a tour of the 
courts, were asked to leave [by the court]. 


а second news story: 
have been puzzled by 
nce it is the general opinion 


om 


The girls were in their late teens and 
early twenties.” 

The jury, applying their own particu- 
lar concept of “community standards.” 
found Bruce guilty. Judge Daniel J. 
Ryan denied a defense plea for more 
time to prepare a motion for a new tial 
(needed because a new lawyer for the de- 
fense had just come into the case) and 
the comedian was sentenced to one year 
d a fine of $1000, the maximum 
the Chicago ob- 
scenity s . This sentence was pr 
nounced in the United States of America, 

n the year 1963, because a man exercised 
his Constitutionally guaranteed right of 
free speech before an adult. audience 
who had voluntarily gone to hear him 
speak id for the privilege. The 
sentence was pronounced because certain 
others in the community did not like the 
things that Bruce was saying, and ob- 
jected to his saying them, even though 
they themselves were free to not go and 
pay to hear him. You don't have to be a 
Lenny Bruce fan to be appalled by this. 

Since — the acts of this particular judge 

nd jury notwithstanding — the Lenny 
Bruce performance was not actually ob- 
scene, the decision will most certainly be 
reversed on appeal to a higher court. But 
one concerned with the underlying ques- 
tion of human rights must recognize that 
those opposing Bruce's freedom of speech 
will most probably be the wii i 
сах Гор few. if any, Chic 
owners will risk booking the comedian 
the future, with the threat of a possi- 
ble license revocation hanging over their 
heads. 

Lenny was not in court on the final 
day of the trial; he had a court appear 
ance scheduled in Los Angeles on two 
new arrests from the previous week. L. A. 
police had tagged him with another 
obscenity charge during his opening- 
night performance in a dub on the 
Sunset Strip, although his previous Holly- 
wood сазе had not yet come to trial. A 
few days the Los Angeles police 
arrested him in a cab for suspicion of 
possessing narcotics (the third L.A, arrest 
on this charge within а year). The 
cotics charge could bring up to 10 years’ 
imprisonment, if they can make it stick; 
authorities sentenced. stripper Candy 
Barr to 15 down in Texas lor possession 
of marijuana on a first offense — 15 years! 

Lenny himself is to blame for much of 
his trouble, if it’s possible to blame a 
lost soul for being lost. But we keep get- 
ting images of Billie Holiday and remem- 
bering the kind of police harassment 
she went through during her last night 
here on earth. A few days before his Chi- 
go trial, Bruce received a letter from 
the Reverend Sidney 1 cr, Vicar of St. 
Clements Church їп New York, who 
1 came to see you [in a 
New York club performance] the other 
night because I had read about you and 


wrote, in ра 


was curious to see if you were really as 
penetrating a critic of our common 
hypocrisics as I had heard. 1 found that 
you are an honest man, sometimes a 
shockingly honest man. . .. It is never 
popular to be so scathingly honest, 
whether it is from a nîght-dub stage or 
from a pulpit, and I was not surprised 
to hear you were having some ‘trouble.’ ” 
Lenny's "trouble" has included a dozen 
arrests in as many months — six of them 
1 Los Angeles, his home town; he has 
lost his Beverly Hills house and is deeply 
in debt; the number of night clubs in 
which he can work has steadily decreased 
to a small handful; the money he can 
carn in a club has decreased proportion- 
ately, Most of his friends and business as- 
sociates have deserted him — many driven 
by his unprediciable manner and 
moods — but. the Vicar of St. Clement's 
Church in New York offered — out. of 
profound conviction and with truc Chris- 
charity — to come to Chicago and be 
his vial. Hip and perceptive 

Sorkin (best d.j. 

emembered nation- 


nnouncer on the 


carce I in Lenny 
Bruce's behalf. It was a matter of prin- 
ciple and a defense of frec specch that 
many around and over Sorkin could not 


understand; he offered to resign. and 
seriously contemplated. leaving the city 
rather than succumb to the coercion 


that was ion to his 
testifying. 

Will Lenny Bruce be silenced? Per- 
1 . And if he is, the world will be 
lide poorer for it. Who сїзє but Bruce 
could conceive of avoiding the news- 
papers’ Los Angeles 
court app ng four-letter 
words all over his face with Mercu: 
chrome? 

Reverend Lanier wrote: "I emphati- 
cally do not believe that your act is ob- 
nt. The method you use has 
a lot in common with those of most seri- 
ous critics (the prophet or the 
the professional) of society. Pages of 
Jonathan. Swift and. Martin. Luther 
quite unprintable even now because they 
were forced to shatter the easy, lying 
language of the day into thc basic, 
vulgar idiom of ordinary people 
п order to show up the emptiness and 
nity of their times, (It has been said, 
morously but with some truth, that a 
deal of the Bible is not fit to be 
d in Church for the same reason.) 
сапу your intent is not to excite 
feclings or to demean, but to 
ke to the ге: 5 of racial 


1 in oppo: 


hi 
gre 
т 


sexi 
shock us 


ic 


hatred and invested absurdities about sex 
and birth and death — to move toward 
sanity and compassion. It is clear that 


you are intensely angry at our hypoctisies 


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69 


PLAYBOY 


70 


(yours as well as mine) and at the highly 
subsidized mealy-mouthism that passes as 
wisdom, . . . May God bless you." 

In 1951 both Chicago and New York 
banned the Tui; film, The Miracle, 
starring Anna M. on the grounds 
ц it was The film's dis- 

fought the ban through the 
id the Supreme Court ruled that 
basis for ban- 
ng a movie: whereupon the City of 
Chicago promptly banned the motion 
picture again — this time on the ground 
that it w; bscene." Ag; the film dis- 
tibutor took the case through the courts 
the Ch o censors’ decision 
was overruled, but by the time the movie 
was finally cleared in the second Supreme 
Court decision, so much time had elapsed 
that there was no longer any meaningful 
market for the movi 

The Chicago censors’ attempt to cut 
several “objectionable” words out of 
Anatomy of a Murder was successfully 
thwarted through a court appeal by the 
movie's producer, Otto Р 
of the “objectionable” words was 
traceptive.” a medical term that 
be objected to on certain 
grounds. 

The Chicago Tribune, self-proclaimed 
“The World's Greatest. Newspaper." an- 
nounced to its readers a little over 

io that, henceforth, because of the num- 
ber of popular books that its book editor 
found offensive, its list of “Best Sellers” 
would no longer include the titles of 
those volumes that did not measure up to 
their concept of community standards. 
Anyone turning to the Tribune's Book 
Department list of "Best Sellers“ be- 
cause of an interest in learning which 
books are currently most. popular with 
the public, must receive, therefore, a 
slightly distorted view of what America 
is reading. From expurgated books, we 
have moved to expurgated book I 

In the South. the charge of “obsce 
may be applied to unpopular ideas about 
miscegenation or some other racial issue. 
In Memphis last December the French 
film, 1 Spit on Your Grave, involving 
light-skinned Negro who nesses the 
lynching of his brother in a Souther 
town and decides to go up North and 
pass for white, was approved by the city 
censor board only to be seized in mid- 
showing by the Memphis vice squad and 
the pi scated. The theater mi 

ger said he had “never heard" of such 
a thing as “seizing a film" (which he did 
not own, but only rented). He stressed 
the fact that the movie had been viewed. 
nd approved by the Memphis censor 


sacrile; 


tributor 


and ag 


"con- 


ап only 


board and said, “What is confusing to 
me ise 


cily what power a censor board. 
es when its power can be usurped 
nother authority.’ 
Apparently суси a city's fir 
ment can get 
they've a mi 


depart- 
ito the censorship act 
1 to. In Columbus, Ohio, 


the same month (December) as the 
Memphis arrest and confiscation, the city 
fire department held a "routine" inspec- 


tion of the Parsons Follies Theater a fer 
after the theater's 
an 
ag the 
uses). found several 
s of local fire regulations and 
Closed the theater. 

А few weeks ago we were asked by 
David Susskind to participate in a panel 
discussion in New York on “The Sexual 
Revolution,” along with Dr. Albert Elli: 
Reverend Arthur Kinsolving, writer 
Maxine Davis, sociologistcolumnist Max 
Lerner and Ralph Ginzburg, publisher 
of Eros, for Susskind's syndicated televi 
sion show, Open End. The discussion 
a frank one, including a particula 
rect criticism of our i 
ad an undisputed state: 

that American puritanism is 
ble for much of our marital un- 


Les Liaisons Dange) 


s and divorce. The show will 
never be It was killed by the 
Metropol ting Company, 


which syndicates Open End in major 
cities across the country, be a 
spokesman for the syndicator explained 
“The show is in very questionable taste.” 
Open End producer-host Susskind said, 
however, he considered the two-hou 
panel discussion “an excellent show . . . 
ally adult, with a wonderfully 1 


wing by the stations 


Not all TV sex discussion is suffering 
such censorship, however, At about the 


group of experts held an unusual 
did and honest discourse on adult se 
behavior, homosexuality and prostitut 


in a threcpart series on the Norm 
Ros Off the Cuff show. on 
WBKRB, in which they concluded that all 


me under the heading 
lity and should not be 
st by the Government. 
Jones expressed the opin- 
ion, during the panel discussion, tha 

when private sexual practices become а 
public айай and are outlawed by the 
it tends to drive the activity unde 

ıd and makes it more dilficult for 
1, moral and religious leaders 10 
effectively reach the people 
their behavior. 

successful television se 
ng quality have been developed 
around lawyers and court procedure, add- 
ing considerably to the interest and. 

of the al public i 

Prudence. Far and away the 
best of these — indeed, one of the finest, 
adult and admirably te programs 
ll of TV—is the award-laden Sat- 
hour of courtroom drama 
The Defenders (ri. On the Scene, 
January 1963), which explores both the 


such sex activity 
of personal mo 
1 


Father ] 


's of 


strengths and weaknesses of our juc 
processes and regularly ofleis sto 
probing such societal proble 
punishment, mercy killing and abortion. 
(And what is altogether unique about 
The Defenders is not simply а concern 
with controver: 

fact that the show contin 
strong case against common 
attitudes on 


I subject matter, but the 


ally makes a 
accepted 
subjects — argu 
against c hment and in ivor 
of mercy killin: bortion — thus ap- 
to the rational mind of man 
ather than to his prejudices.) The pop- 
ty of the program proves not only 
ta significant part of the public will 
respond to thought provoking, telev 

fare, but is today willing to accept a show 
whose mature content consistently 
stresses the lag between our law and 
changing social needs and. requirements 
of a modem, evolving morality. The 
show's most frequent situation is one in 
which the individual is thwarted by the 
outmoded prescriptions of established 
authority—a theme that finds a recep- 
in a time when we are fi 
g for new and better answers 
to the problems of society that have for 


and prudishness of anti- 
ed traditions and taboos. 
But despite such encouraging signs 
t suggest a better, more rational to- 
sentiment is still so 
strongh our society that 
the label of "obscene" is one of the most 
efective means of damning a variety of 
otherwise unrelated unpopular view. 
points. In the same way, since the label 
"Communist" is currently even more 
ning than "obscene," persons intent 
ing the rest of us to conform 
personal moral standards some- 
the utterly fantastic, but 
nonetheless effective, technique of calling 
se 
which they do not concur a Communist 
plot (As observed. in last month's cdi- 
tor Reverend Ira Latimer, in his 
scathing denunciation of University of 
Illinois Professor Leo Koch, and Con- 
roman Kathryn Granahan, in her 
mut and filth" in today’s 
s, both saw Red in any mo 
п their own and s; 
act. of course, the 
to smother differing viewpoi 
ard operating procedure for 
munis A liberal 
is not subversive, but the attempt to 
cocrcively control such attitudes surely 
is. The Communists — like totalitar- 
ian group or governm censor- 
ship to establish a 
approved point of vi 
It should be me 
munist State is, at its he: 
sexual. Most dictatorships are 
freedom only grows naturally 


th 
morrow, antisexua 


imbedded 


s utilize 


subversive and sexual ideas with 


tempt 
ts is stand- 
the Com- 
tude toward sex 


at — use 
le standard ог 


w. 
ned, also, that the 


apt to 


beget sexual exploitation, prostitution 
and perversion. We commented in the 
l part of this editorial (in, 
bruary 1963) that the Chinese Com- 
conducting a c 
disapproved” publicati 
(These books and pictures seriously 
harm those workers who by constantly 
looking at them can easily become de- 
generate in their thinking," cautioned 
the Peking Worker's Daily) and а Post of 
the Catholic War Vi ns in Hartford, 
Connecticut, unthinkingly congratulated 
and emulated the Communists in a letter 
to book dealer their community aim. 
ppress, through the threat of 
boycott, certain publications they con- 
sidered undesirable: "We have to hand it 
to the Communists . . . who have 
launched a nationwide campaign against 
pornographic wrote the well- 
meaning Ame veterans to their 
fellow citize kl nor this example 
provoke a simil 
land where thi 
service to 


т literary cleanup in ou 
morality is gauged Ъ 
od and not to an ath 


ture. 

The late President. Franklin. Delano 
Roosevelt stated. in a speech delivered 
on May 8, 1939 The arts cannot thrive 
except where men are fice to be th 
n charge of the disci- 
pline of their own energies and ardors. 
The conditions for democracy and for 
art are one and the same. What we call 
liberty in politics results in freedom of 
the ar 

Judge Thurman Arnold wrote in the 
decision of the U.S. Court of Appeals 
that quashed an attempt on the part of 
the U. S. Post Office to rescind the Second 
Class mailing permit of Esquire maj 
zine in 01946: “A requirement. that Tit- 
erature or art conform to some norm 
prescribed by an осі 
ideology fore 

President: John F. Ke 
about the dangers of censorship in a 
nationally televised news conference in 
February of 1961: “The lock on the door 
of the legislature, the parliament, or the 


nd to be 


selve: 


nedy warned 


Commissar, or the Führer," he said, 
historically been followed or pr 
by a lock on the door of the pr 
the publisher's, the bookseller's 
President Kennedy made it clear that he 
was skeptical regarding the value of cen- 
sorship and that the responsibility of 
choice should rightly rest with the indi- 
vidual and the family, not with external 
groups, including the Government. 
But less chan two years later, Ken- 
nedy's Administra 
criticism for Gove 
ol the news" rela 
and control over Federal news sources is 
being justified by Government spokes- 
men on the basis that “news can be an 


ion w 
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PLAYBOY 


72 


cflective weapon in winning the Cold 
War" How easily c ip spreads 
from arca 0 area, and how easily it is 
rationalized, once we condone and per- 
mit the first exception to our total frec- 
dom of speech and press. 

Critics of the Administration's action 
suggest that such censorship is more apt 
to be used to cover up Government mis 
takes than for any strategic advantage 
in the Cold War. And most of the news- 
pers of the nation have editorialized 
inst the so-called "manipulation" on 
the ground that the people in a democ- 
racy have а Constitutionally guaranteed. 
right to know. 

It can be ellectively argued that a free 

ty's greatest strength is its freedom 
id we will not effectively challenge о 
totalitarian adversaries and eventually 
win out over them by curbing the very 
rights that set us apart from all di 
tatorships. 


WHOSE FOOT IS TO BE THE MEASURE? 


Another perplexing problem with ce 
y kind is determining just 
ified to do the censoring. In 
Thomas Jefferson stated that he 
was “mortified” to find that the sale of a 
book could become a subject of inquiry 
in the United States of America. Rhetori- 
cally, he asked: “Are we to have а censor 
whose imprimatur shall say what books 
may be sold and what we may buy? 

Whose foot is to be the measure to which 
ours are all to be cut or stretched?” 

Those most interested in promot 
censorship are usually least qualified to 
сї as censors and those most qualified 
are most strongly opposed to the very 
idea of а p in а free society. Ev 
if the “ideal censor" were to be found 
(and the very words are, to us, incom- 
patible) — a Solomon who truly tried to 
adjust his decisions, not to his own likes 
and dislikes, but to the Supreme Court's 
concept of а community standard — we 
have already scen that no single stand- 
rd can ever be said to exist for the 
mi nd varied educational, social, 
ethnic and religious parts of a commu- 
nity and certainly not for the thousands 
of separate communities all across this 
broad country of ours. Aud we have pre- 
viously quoted Justice Douglas of the 
Supreme Court who has stated: “Any 
test that turns on what is offe e to the 
community's standards is too loose, 100 
capricious, too destructive of freedom of 
expression to be squared with the First 
Amendment." 

If that most improbable Solomon of 
Censorship does exist, few communities 
have made any concerted attempt to find 
him. Instead, we are asked to shape our 
foot to the size of an arbitrarily selected 
officer of the police department or a cen- 
sor board composed of housewives with 
spotty edu al and cultural back- 
grounds. Attorneys for the award-win- 


soci 


id 


sors 


ning French film The Game of Love, 
a faithful adaptation of a classic novel 
by Colette, clearly demonstrated. the 
questionable qualifications of a great 
y censors, when they appealed to the 
wis courts the City of Chicago's rc 
fusal to grant the motion picture a 
permit for exhibition. 

Having entered into evidence the facts 
that the film had been awarded the Di 
ploma of Merit at the Edinburgh Film 
Festival and the Grand Prix du Cinéma 
Francais (Grand Prize of the French Mo- 
tion Picture Industry) and that thc 
American premiere of the film had been 
sponsored by the Fresh Air Fund of the 
New York Herald-Tribune, the attorneys 
brought out through testimony of mem- 
bers of the Police Censor Unit that there 
e no rules of procedure under wh 

Тепзог Unit operated and that they 
sought no outside opinions on. movies 
being considered — neither the. distribu- 
or drama critics, nor movie review- 
eis. Lt, Ignatius J. Shechan, head of the 
Censor Unit, testified that he did not read 
many books, d tend many plays, 
did not attend art exhibits, did not read 
the book-review sections and had never 
read any of Colette’s novels. He knew 
nothing about the awards that the mo- 
tion picture had received nor anything 
about the honors which had been given 
Colette during her lifetime. He 


nota 


а . He stated that he 
took the entertainment value of a motion 


picture into consideration in determin- 
ng whether a picture should be accepted 
or rejected and he did not find the film 
entertaining. Lt. Sheehan testified that 
onc of the things indecent was that a 
group of girls in the movie presumably 
saw the private parts of an adolescent 
boy who came out of the water after 
swimming nude. He stated that he 
thought that the young girl in the pic- 
ture was "sex minded” and that this was 
bnormal in years old. 
Mis. O'H n testified that she was 
a movie censor for the City of Chicago, 
for which she receives $304 a month and 
that she views movies eight hours a day 
five days a weck. She stated that she was 
a high school graduate and that she read 
movie reviews after she had passed upon 
"but T don't read too much be 


. I don't go for that, because I like 


the movie my way and enjoy it and 
censor it, and then I am going to do it 
from my thinking. Then 1 am going to 
check to sce how close I came." She tes- 
tified that she had never read any of 
Colette's works and did not know too 
much about her, She stated that she did 
not think the motion picture The Game 
of Love had any ent 


ainment value 


and that she thinks that movies should 
ainment. She stated that 


provide ente 
the absence of entertainment value 
could be one of the reasons for rejecting 


a picture, She stated that it was unusual 
for a girl of 15 to have sexual desire: 
She stated that she thought the movie 
was oflensive to the standards of decency 
d that it was unfit, immoral and ob- 
scene. She defined а work 
accepted by the s rds of excellency. 
stated that it was accepted by the people 
generally and that Shakespeare's writings 
were classics because she had "never 
heard anyone really talk against Shake- 
speare,” She testified that “thi re a lot 
of things true to life that we cannot put 
on the screen. 
Irs. Joyce, another of die movie cen- 
sors, testified that she w: gh school 
graduate, that her tastes did not lean to 
classics. and expressed the opinion that 
most classics were written the 18th 
Century. She stated that she would be 
"surprised and amazed" to find that 
Colette's novels circulated freely in the 
Chicago Public Library and that if any 
books like the movie were circulati 
such books ought to be looked over 
before they get into the Public Library. 
Mrs. Joyce testified that she rejected the 
picture because “it was immoral, because 
it was nst my parental rearing. An 


classic as 


4: 


t was immoral, corrupt, indecent, 


against my religious prin 
sinful and corrupt.” 

To put control of the communication 
of ideas within a community in the hands 
of the police is to open the door to the 
establishment of a police state and yet 
this is precisely the governmental author- 
ity endowed with the power of censorship 
most American cities today. Are the 
housewives who were dictating the level 
of taste and sophistication in cinema for 
all the citizens of Chicago, second larg- 
est city in the United States, qualified for 
their job? 

Who really is? The late Judge Jerome 
N. Frank of the 0.5. Court of Appeals 
wrote in his opinion in C. S. vs. Roth 
“To vest a few fallible men .. . with vast 
powers of literary or artistic censorship, 
to convert them into what J. S. Mill 
called a ‘moral police,’ is to make them 
despotic arbiters of liberty products. If 
опе day they ban mediocre books as ob- 
scene, another day they may do likewise 
to a work of genius. Originality, not too 
plentiful, should be cherished, not 
stifled.” 

The job of censorship often goes, by 
default, to those in the community who 
have nothing better to do with their 
time — or worse — to somcone who has a 
preternatural interest in censorship. 
Benjamin Karpman, chief psycho- 
t at St. Elizabeth's Federal Hos 
Washington, D. C., has stated 
"Crusading against obscenity has an un- 
conscious interest at its base. 

Judge Thurman Arnold responded to 
this sti nt, during the Playboy Panel 
worship." with the com- 
(continued on page 168) 


ples, unclean, 


WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PLAYBOY? 


A career-conscious collegian whose sharpened sophistication sets the pace for tomorrow, the PLAYBOY reader is 
quick to grasp the importance of an ambitious course. What's more, his drive for success is matched only by his 
quest for quality. Where does he find it? In his favorite class magazine. Facts: One out of every two male college 
students in the country reads PLAYBOY each month. And when this urbane undergrad leaves the classroom for the 
conference room, he takes his loyalty along. 48.1% of all PLAYBOY readers are college educated. Profitable con- 
clusion: PLAYBOY has what it takes to sell the college market. (Source: 1962 Starch Consumer Magazine Report.) 


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MORRISON FEARED SHE'D CHILL HIS ALTRUISTIC 
PLAN, BUT ICY MISS PARKER ALSO UNDERSTOOD 
THE TIE THAT BINDS FICTION BY WALT GROVE 


He was walking down the green-carpeted hall when he passed the 
open door ofa room and heard Stud Tatum's voice, saying, "Come on, Byron, 
wake up—you got to get up now. Byron, get your can out of that sack!” 

Morrison, who was both the newest and the youngest of the mosters at 
the school, glanced in the open door. Byron Ramsey was lying on the 
nearest twin bed, fully clothed, and looking sound asleep. His roommate, 
Stud Tatum, was bending over the bed, shaking him. Stud had on only a 
white T-shirt, stenciled with the numeral 22, and a jockstrap; he was already 
15 minutes late, at least, for spring training for football. 

"Anything wrong?" Morrison asked, going into the room. 

"Oh, Christ, you would have to butt in!" Stud said. "You remember that, 


15 


PLAYEOY 


76 


Mister Morrison. You had to stick your 
big goddamn nose in!” 

Av first Morrison thought Ramsey was 
ill: the boy's face was quite pale. He bent 
to feel Ramsey's pulse and the toe of his 
shoc kicked something under the bed, 
something that made a very distinctive 
sound. With a sigh Morrison bent and 
pulled а half-empty vodka bottle from 
beneath the bed. 

In every school that Morrison knew 
anything about there were always boys 
who drank, as there was always a boy or 
two who managed to contract an un- 
pleasant but curable malady. In girls 
schools— Morrison imagined, he knew 
nothing about girls schools, really — 
there would probably always be one girl, 
at least, each year, who turned up preg- 
nant. He was not surprised at Ramsey's 
rebellion, but he was surprised at the 
form it had taken, a sloblike drunken- 
ness. He had expected more from Ram- 
sey than that. 

“Where'd he get it, do you know?” 
Morrison asked absently. 

“I wouldn't have the slightest, Mister 
Morrison. Not the slightest. Why don't 
you ask him?” 

Morrison glanced up, surprised at the 
amount of emotion in Tatum's voice. 
"The question had been rhetorical, really; 
Morrison knew where Ramsey had got 
the vodka. "The school was in the begin- 
nings of the Berkshires, north of the 
exurbanite area of Connecticut, and one 
and a half miles from a small village. 
In the village there was 2 liquor store, 
and a town drunk. If a boy went into 
the village and gave the old drunk five 
dollars he would receive a fifth of the 
cheapest vodka— the drunk pocketed 
something like a dollar and a half on 
each transaction. And all the boys at 
school who drank, drank vodka; they 
knew it couldn't be smelled on their 
breaths. 

“You'll either tell me now, or the 
Head in about five minutes," Morrison 
said. 

"Tatum was only 18, but he stood six 
feet, three inches tall and weighed more 
than 250 pounds. He had graduated from 
his local high school the year before and 
he was being prepped to enter an Ivy 
League college where he would play foot- 
ball. But he would not go there on an 
athletic scholarship; his mother was 
wealthy and Stud would have played 
football at any school; he was that type. 
If he had not thought of it, a coach 
would've yelled, Hey. you — c'merel" 

Stud picked up a cigarette from the 
study table and lighted it — something 
else against rules, smoking in the rooms. 
‘There were brown scabs on the backs of 
his hands and forearms, scars from cleats 
that had passed over him, and on his 
right thigh there was a large lemon-yel- 
low ghost of a bruise. “You do anything 
that gets Byron kicked out, Mister Mor- 


rison, and ГЇЇ cream you. So help me 
God, I'll ruin you for life.” 

"Really?" Morrison said. "Why would 
you do that?" 

"Because he happens to be 
guy I ever knew in my entire life. 
sat down on his own twin bed. 
school like this there're a lot of snobs. 
Guys who laugh at you and so on. Well, 
I didn't know you weren't supposed to 
wear your goddamn football jacket, the 
опе you got in high school. I showed up 
wearing mine. A lot of guys would've 
objected to rooming with me, right then. 
But Byron never said а word. The first 
weckend we could leave, he signed us out 
for New York, his parents’ place. And 
he took me to his own tailor, the tailor 
he's had since he was about five years 
old, And he gave me his Sulka tie.” 

“He gave you what?" 

“His Sulka tie. You know that shop in 
New York. Sulka. Byron had this tie, the 
only one like it in the world. An exdu- 
sive. I mean, if you walked in there and 
asked them to make you one like it, they 
wouldn't do it. And Byron gave me that 
tie. Like it was nothing.” 

Morrison took a cigarette from the 
package on the table. “Why is he so 
drunk on a Tuesday afternoon, do you 
know?" 

"I told you, Mister Morrison, I'll —' 

“I know, 1 have been properly terri- 
fied. Why's he drunk?" 

"Well, I gave his girl the time, and he 
found out." 

Morrison frowned. "When was ай" 

"You mean when I gave her the time, 
or when he found out? I gave her the 
time more'n two years ago, but he only 
found out this past Saturday night.” 

"But you and Ramsey didn't know 
each other two years ago," Morrison said. 

“I didn't say I gave Byron the time, 
Mister Morrison. I said I gave his girl 
the time. She's from my home town, 
she's over at the cat house this year. You 
remember when he went over for tea? 
That's when I introduced her and 
Byron.” 

‘The cat house was the name the stu- 
dents had given to Miss Catton's, a school 
for young ladies about a mile north of 
the village. There was no real socializ- 
ing between the two schools— such a 
thing was not encouraged at prep-school 
level — but once each year the older boys 
were invited to tea; they generally re 
sponded, some time later, with a dinner, 
Morrison well remembered going to tea. 
That had been his first, and probably 
only, meeting with that cold bitch Selma 
Parker, the assistant headmistress — either 
Vassar or Smith, he was certain, about 
59 or '60. A small blonde jewel of a girl 
in a simple black dress that might have 
cost $40 at Bloomingdale's or $400 at 
Bergdorfs; he could never tell about 
women's clothes when they were that 
simple. He had been so struck by her 


that he had simply uttered the first thing 
to enter his head — Say, the grounds 
look damn interesting, let's go outside." 
But that cold bitch Selma Parker had 
only glanced at him and said, "Oh, real- 
Jy?” — and walked off. Ordinarily Morri- 
son did much better than that, and it 
had irked him. 

"But aren't you from Wyoming?" Mor- 
rison asked. “I mean, it seems odd to me 
that you and a girl from a small Wyo- 
ming town should both go to school in 
Connecticut." 

“What's so odd about it? Her family's 
got as much money as mine. Haven't you 
ever been in Wyoming, Mister Mor- 
rison?” 

“No.” The farthest west Morrison had 
been was Texas, the summer that he and 
his artis friend Harper had driven to 
Mexico. They had spent three months 
growing beards, wearing huarachos and 
living with two Indian girls who had 
been so identical looking it had been dif- 
ficult, if not impossible, to tell them 
apart 

“Well, this town where I live is only 
about 3000 population, but everybody 
always does the same thing. I mean, 
everybody who's got money and can af- 
ford it. Like Cadillacs. Everybody used 
to drive Cadillacs. It was all you saw. 
‘Then this one doctor who always oper- 
ates on everybody and is pretty succes 
ful bought a Jag. And then alll the wives 
found out you could get that Borg- 
"Warner transmission, you know, and 
have them air conditioned, and so now 
about all you see is Jaguars and Mer- 
cedeses. "Thats how I came to give By- 
ron's girl the time, actually." 

"Your mother bought a Jaguar?" 

“Маз, my mothers an inte 
woman, she's got a Silver Wraith. I 
mean because everyone always does the 
same thing's how I happened to give her 
the time." Stud paused. "You never 
played football, Mister Morrison?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I don't know how it was at your 
school, but I know for a fact that nobody 
on our football team ever lacked for 
sexual intercourse. If you were on the 
team and you went with a girl you had 
sexual intercourse. Period. That was it. 
The girls all knew this and so did 
their parents. They never said anything, 
but they knew. Once 1 was with my 
girl right on the living-room floor of her 
house and her mother walked in. She 
never said а word, not а word. She just 
turned around and walked out 

“Was she your girl?” Morrison asked. 
"This girl who's over at the cat house 
now?" 

"You mean Mary Sarah Butler? No, 
she was neuer my girl. That's what I'm 
trying to tell you." Stud lighted another 
cigarette. "You sce, the vast majority of 
kids at that school, at least 90 percent, 

(continued on page 130) 


“Two aphrodisiacs, please.” 


7 DANCING, 3 once x vi „ i 
A SHORT ИП: зае аа 
ШШ. ое pedecibet саноа iE xak ал 


of the legs, the jingles of the arms, or the iods and places, dances of the feet, 
kı 


ballads of the belly and buttocks. 
| | 5 т 
jie ўшарей n аан celebs 


FANTASTIC, FROM YESTERDAY'S QUADRILLE ТО 


magic, money and whoopee. 

The human desire to dance is basic. 
Man and his universe are all rhythm. 
‘The stars and galaxies move in an eternal 
ballet. The atom is a microscopic ball- 
room where particles swing and jitter to 
the frenetic jazz of energy and matter. 
Respiration is the rhythmic dance of 


breath, and the heart of the human єш- 
bryo throbs in double-time syncopation 
with the maternal pulse. Upon birth, the 
infant is rocked and nursed at the breast, 
in what the Dutch psychiatrist Joost 
A. M. Meerloo calls the "milk dance." 
“In the Far East,” he states, "I experi- 
enced several times this rhythmic encoun- 


TODAY'S BOSSA NOVA 


ter of mother and baby as a joyous play, 
full of erotic overtones.” 

A similar eroticism is present in all 
human dances, and springs directly from 
nature. The mating dances of whooping 
cranes, crested grebes, pheasants, moths 
and other winged amorists are counted 
among the big thrills of bird and bug 


79 


PLAYBOY 


80 


watching, and zoologists aver that apes 
will shuflle and stamp around a tree for 
German psychologist, Wolfgang 
‚ who once made a study of such 
monkeyshines, reports that "In these 
dances the chimpanzee likes to bedeck 
body with all sorts of things, espe- 
„ vines and rags that dangle 
and swing in the air" — thus displaying 
а sense of chic that compares h that 
of the primitive girl dancers depicted in 
the earliest Spanish cave painting of a 
human circle dance. Here, a group of 
Miolithic maidens are seen dancing in 
a ring around а rosy male youth whose 
nudity is emphasized by an enormous 
set of sex organs. Though prehistorians 
disagree as to the precise nature of this 
Stone Age shindig. the dance is almost 
identical with those performed at initia- 
tion ceremonies by many primitive peo- 
ples today. In central Australia, we are 
told, “the women dance with their arms 
fiexed and make inviting movements,” 
while on the island of Nauru, in the 
Pacific, the first menstruation of the 
chieftain's daughter is celebrated with a 
-out party at which dancers of 
both sexes “raise their grass skirts in 
front and behind and exhibit themselves 
to each other." 

Simplest of all such dances are the 
erotic hoedowns of East African tribes, 
in which girl debutantes feverishly mimic 
the movements of coitus Among the 
more complex is that of the Monumbo 
Papuans of New Guinea, who use the 
dance to instruct young tribal bucks in 
the responsibilities of manhood, We are 
told: “(1) they must often excite them- 
selves by inserting a liana stalk in the 
penis; (2) they must steal diligently and 
not let themselves be эсеп by the women; 
(8) they must catch fish diligently with 
the fish spear; (4) they must diligently 
fetch down coconuts and drink the milk 
from them; (5) they must diligently fetch 
down breadíruits with pickers and foot 
slings; (6) they must delight in women; 
ust secretly watch the women 


this weren't enough to keep a 
young man out of mischief, most primi- 
e societies demand his presence at 
numerous fertility rites. In the scholarly 
estimate of the musicologist and dance 
historian, Curt Sachs, "It would be diffi- 
cult to imagine the motions of onanism 
апа cohal jon . . the frenzied shrick- 
ing of obscene words, and the chants of 
unprintable verses which the dancers of 
both sexes in the various cultures, alone 
or in couples, bring to their dances.” By 
way of restrained example, he cites the 
spring dances of the Watchandi of west- 
em Australia, who cavort around a large 
trench “decorated with bushes in such a 
to resemble the sex parts of a 
. In the dance they carry in front 
of them a spear to represent а phallus. 
Circling around the ditch, they poke 


the spear inside as a symbol of generative 
power, and sing continually, "Not the pit, 
not the pit, not the pit, but the ушу 

In contrast, we have an anthropologi 
cal report on the male-oriented sex hops 
of the Cobéua Indians of Brazil, whose 
dancers “have large phalli made of bast 
with testicles of red cones from the low- 
hanging trees, which they hold close to 
their bodies with both hands. Stamping 
with the right foot and singing, they 
dance at first in double-quick time, one 
behind another, with the upper parts of 
their bodies bent forward. Suddenly they 
jump wildly along with violent coital 
motions and loud groans of ‘ai (ye) — ai 
(ye) —ai (ye). . .. Thus they carry the 
fertility into every corner of the houses, 
to the edge of the wood, to the nearby 
fields; they jump among the women, 
young and old, who disperse shrieking 
and laughing 

Though few instances can be found of 
the sexual act being consummated as 
part of the chorcography, the fertility 
dance is always and everywhere a prel- 
ude to spirited intercourse — which often 
follows any other sort of primitive dance, 
as well. In the tribal mind, human po- 
tency and fertility are symbolic of health, 
abundance and victory over the forces of 
death and destruction. For this reason, 
fertility, war and funeral dances are more 
or less interchangeable, and anthropolo- 
gists are often hard put to classify a given 
set of jumps, shuffles and grunts, From 
what has been learned, however, it's safe 
to assume that every step, leap, move- 
ment and contortion known to modern 
dancing had found its way into the prim- 
itive repertoire long before man emerged 
into the Bronze Age. 

For all their aesthetic complexity, the 
dances of India still reveal a strong under- 
current of the erotic. Though divided 
into four regional types, every step and 
gesture is codified in the pages of the 
ancient Natya Sastra — а book which is 
believed to contain the dance secrets of 
the gods. “When the neck is moved 
backward and forward like the move- 
ment of a she pigeon's neck, it is called 
Prakampita. Usage: To denote ‘You and 
1; folk dancing ging, inarticulate 
murmurings and the sound uttered by a 
woman at the time of conjugal embrace.” 
‘The hand held in one position conveys no 
less than 30 possible meanings, including 
“holding the breasts of 
"saying ‘It is proper’ " and "the 
flapping of elephant ears.” When the 
dancer's third finger is doubled under 
he thumb, it may be construed as 
“flower,” “screw pine,” “the union of 
man and woman" or "rubbing down a 
horse." 


Over countless centuries, the Indian 
nt 


dance has perfected 39 such signifi 
hand gestures and 45 eloquent eye mo 
ments All serve the purpose of story- 
telling dance dramas whose influence has 


spread through Asia to the islands of the 
South Seas, where the myths and legends 
told by a hula dancers hands form a 
graceful counterpoint. to her swaying 
hips and undulating torso. To the un- 
tutored eye of the mainland American, 
the story elements of the jan hula 
are considerably less interesting than the 
febrile footnotes of the dancer's pelvis, 
which speaks the same international 
language of l'amour that grandfather 
ned at carnival peep shows under the 
spangle-tossing tutelage of some itinerant 
Little Egypt. Guriously, however, the 
Egyptians themselves are supposed 10 
have hipped to the traditional belly bal 
let from watching another group of trav- 
eling artistes: the bevies of bumping and 
grinding Hindu dancing girls who were 
brought to the Land of the Pharaohs in 
1500 в.с. as part of the sensual spoils of 
war with kingdoms of the Middle East. 

Spectacular, too, were Egyptian back 
bends, and the whirling dances which 
predated the hourlong trance dance of 
the Moslem “whirling dervishes." Such 
spinning dances were prevalent through- 
out the Middle East. Assyrian soldiers of 
the Seventh Century в.с. reportedly 
“whirled themselves like tops,” and the 
ancient Hebrew name for the dancing 
of women derives from the verb for 
“turn” — as in a whirlwind or the swing- 
ing of a sword. 

Both the Talmud and the Old Testa- 
ment testify to the fact that the ancient 
Hebrews danced for joy and the glory of 
the Lord. King David danced before the 
Ark of the Covenant, and when the chil- 
dren of Israel had safely crossed over out 
of Egypt, Miriam the prophetess “took 
a timbrel”—or tambourine — “in her 
hand; and all the women went out after 
her with timbrels and with dances" 
Easily the most sensational dance in 
ical history was the ome performed 
by Salome at Herod's birthday party а 
dance which so pleased Herod that “he 
promised with an oath to give her what 
soever she would ask.” Salome, at her 
mother's urging, requested and got John 
the Baptis's head. Her dance, which 
Victorian poets were prone to interpret 
as a pretty twinkling of the feet, was, ac- 
cording to all earlier evidence, nothing 
more nor less than a danse du ventre, or 
Eastern belly dance. 

Salome aside, the belly dance was far 
from typical of the Jewish people, whose 
gay, skipping courtship dances were of 
the sort which “the daughters of Jerusa- 
Jem went forth and danced in the vine- 
An equally idyllic dance is 


ic Greeks: “And now would 
they run round with deft feet exceeding 
lightly. . . . And now anon they would 
run in lines to meet cach other." To 
the poet Pindar, Hellas was "the land 
(continued on page 157) 


THE FEMLIN COMES TO LIFE our photographer plays pygmalion with playboy's frolicsome pixie 


PLAYBOY readers will readily recognize the picture below as this issue's cover come-to-life — the palmed pixie, 
of course, being our Femlin, the prankish pocket-sized charmer depicted by LeRoy Neiman on our Party Jokes 
page each month. Dark of stocking, glove and hair — but notably light of heart — our small wonder personifies 
for us a friskily festive approach to life. To confound those cynics who doubt that such a blithe spirit really exists, 
we offer the following photographic scenario — proof positive that our fair little lady is indeed a living doll. 


Above: the playlet begins atop play boys desk as the Femlin espies a brace of tickets, gets green eyes at the 
thought of her guy's squiring а queen-sized femme. Below: a campaign of playful sabotage ensues as our covet- 
ous junior miss impishly disrupts current events by unplugging playboy's electric razor, stalling his progress. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO CASILLI AND PLAYBOY STUDIOS 


wi" 
S 


84 


Above: a further holdup occurs as the wee one depth-bombs guy’s pre-date martini with a splashy olive. 
Below: time seems to have run out on our fetching mad hatter, until (vight) playboy indulgently pockets his 
girl gremlin for the evening — a beaming Femlin happy to know she's close to the heart of the man in her life. 


PLAYBOY 


“What do you mean ‘Not here’?!” 


article By LESLIE A. FIEDLER 


a penetrating dissection of the ambivalent dream of expatriate self-discovery 


FEW AMERICANS IN EUROPE, I would guess, are much dismayed these days by the pickets who, on one political occa- 
sion or another, parade before our embassies carrying signs that read: AMERICANS со HOME! Such pickets, we tell 
ourselves in our new sophistication, are merely hardened Leftists or Rightists ready to exploit any occasion, the 
execution of Caryl Chessman or the building of a new rocket base, for their own obvious ends. And yet deep 
within us, I suspect, lurks an uneasy sense that such pickets speak also for us; a half awareness that, in the dark 
innards of the most enthusiastic American abroad, shadow figures march with placards carrying similar slogans. 
But this is a secret we have always found easier to confess in literature than in life. 

Perhaps this is why an American friend, more or less permanently transplanted to Greece, brought to me with 
special indignation a recent article by Karl Shapiro, an angry valedictory to the world in which we were reading 
his words. “We retired from Europe in humorless disgust,” Shapiro had written, “trading Provence and Tuscany 
for Lincoln, Nebraska. I suspect every American living abroad would do the same, given the opportunity and a 
little imagination. . . . American writers have been trying to explode the myth of Europe-our-Europe since the 
year one, and have not yet succeeded.” And surely this is why I echoed my friend's indignation, pretending to 
us both that though we admired Shapiro as a poet and a man, his case could be dismissed out of hand: humor- 
less, certainly, but grotesquely overstated and full of not-quite facts as well. 

Either, 1 found myself thinking in his defense, he has deliberately overstated his position so that no one will 
believe what he has written just to earn the passage money home; or the whole thing is a symptom of incipient 
hepatitis, that endemic disease of the liver which attacks Americans abroad with particular virulence, filling them 
with a pointless rage not always possible to tell from the true prophetic fury. And I almost wrote to Mr. Shapiro 
in Lincoln, Nebraska, to ask whether his eyeballs and elbows were beginning to turn yellow. 

But, alter all, 1 told myself on second thought, hepatitis is a semipsychic affliction; and the fact that American 
livers do so spectacularly fail in Europe, that habitual anger plus an uncustomary dict sends the bile churning in 
our blood, is an argument for Mr. Shapiro's position rather than against it. On the other hand, my private argu- 
ment continued, many Americans are living abroad (including me), and surely they are not all simply lacking in 
imagination and opportunity. As a matter of fact, as the “opportunity” for me to go home again has come closer 
and closer, my “imagination” has reduced me to a state of near panic. Even now, I am not quite ready to leave 
Greece, and find it hard to believe that I ever shall be. Moreover, I can hear outside my window the noises of the 
more and more fellow Americans who each year go abroad: some to look briefly, some to stay awhile, a few to 
remain indefinitely. 

What is the matter with such Americans? Are they merely, as Mr. Shapiro would have us believe, victims of 
the tourist offices of Italy and France and Greece, dupes of their own travel agents? Or is it an unfortunate combi- 
nation of prosperity and boredom which keeps them flowing eastward? If not, what in the world makes them 
willing to take the word of commercial brochures over that of their greatest writers and their deep inner selves? 
For, after all, if Mr. Shapiro is not telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he is telling something more 
like the truth than the leaflets of travel agencies. Many of our greatest writers have tried to explode a vulgar myth 
of Europe, warning us of its corruption, its commercialization, its political tyranny, its indigestible fare, its sheer 
ugliness. 

The collaborators in this endless debunking campaign have included not only Mark Twain, who claimed 
nearly to have starved on European food, and managed to eat well forever alter by (continued on page 104) 


PART Il of a novel by 


IAN FLEMING 


bond found himself 
ensconced in the malignant 
domain of his sinister 

prey, a world of ten golden 
girls and an irma la 
not-very-douce at all 


ON HER 
MAJESTY'S 
SECRET 
SERVICE 


James Bond, impersonating 

Sir Hilary, feigned nonchalance 
as he took the Daily Express 

out of his brief case and 


turned to the sports pages. 
His destination: the 
Alpine eyrie of 
archcriminal Blofeld. 


EI eA 


Synopsis: For James Bond, on the beach 
at Royale les Eaux, it had been one of 
those Septembers when it seemed that the 
summer would never end. He had come 
to thc Normandy Coast for a rest from 
his persistent pursuit of Ernst Stavro 
Blofeld, mastermind of spectre (Special 
Executwe for Counter-Intelligence, Re- 
venge and Extortion), the dreaded organ- 
ization of international crime. He was 
fed to the teeth with chasing the ghost 
of Blofeld. And the same went for 
SPECTRE. 

It was while he was driving in his big 
Bentley toward the beach at Royale that 
the adventure began. Triple wind horns 
screamed their banshee discord in his 
ear and a Lancia Flaminia Zagato Spy- 
der, with a beautiful girl at the wheel, 
tore past him and pulled quickly away. 
By the time he had passed through Mon- 
treuil the nimbler car had vanished, and 
he was left with the haunting image of 
the girl's shocking pink scarf whipping 
cheekily from the Lancia as it roared 
past. He had to find out who this devil of 
а girl was. 

And he did find out that night in the 
Casino. She gambled with money she 
didn’t possess, repaid him with her body 
for covering her losses at chemin de fer, 
and threatened suicide. Her name was 
La Comtesse Teresa di Vicenzo but when 
morning came he was calling her Tracy. 

Sensing that she was greatly disturbed 
within, Bond followed the countess to 
the beach and called to her when it ap- 
peared she was about to drown herself 
in the surf. The girl looked past him and 
her clenched right hand went up to her 
mouth, Bond swirled and there were the 
steady silver eyes of two automatics sneer- 
ing at him, held by two swarthy thugs 
with deadpan, professional faces; in a 
moment all four were in a launch headed 
for the nearby hide-out of Marc-Ange 
Draco, Tracy's father—and head of the 
Corsican crime brotherhood known аз 
the Union Corse. There Draco made 
James Bond a strange offer: £1,000,000 
to wed his daughter, whose suicidal in- 
clinations, he explained, stemmed from 
self-contempt for a life of decadent self- 
indulgence. Bond, pleading the prior 
claim of duty, refused the offer, suggest- 
ing instead that Tracy be sent to a Swiss 
Sanitarium for treatment and adding 
that, after her release, he would be de- 
lighted to pay her court. In gratitude for 
Bond's kindness to his daughter in the 
Casino, Draco paid his guest the favor of 
disclosing the whereabouts of the hunted 
Blofeld — somewhere in Switzerland. 

Two months later, in London, Bond 
was still on the trail of the master of 
SPECTRE, and learned from Sable Basilisk, 
of Her Majesty’s College of Arms and 
Heraldry, that а Swiss resident named 
Blofeld had applied for a trace on his 
family tree with a view to establishing 


89 


PLAYBOY 


himself as Le Comte de Bleuville. To 
Bond this was as the scent of fox to 
hound. Posing as Sir Hilary Bray, a 
legitimate English nobleman, and as an 
expert on heraldry, he inveigled an invi- 
tation to visit Blofeld’s hideaway and 
then set off to ensnare his prey, high- 
ly aware that once Blofeld had probed his 
heraldic gen to its rather shallow bottom 
and it had been proved that he was or 
was not Le Соте de Blewville, "Sir 
Hilary Bray,” his usefulness expended, 
might well meet with an “accident.” 

It was on this cheery thought that 
James Bond, bowler hat, rolled umbrella, 
neatly folded Daily Express and all, took 
off via jet for the lair of his foe. What 
would Blofeld look like? He wondered. 
And his excitement mounted as he con- 
sumed a delicious lunch served by a 
delicious stewardess — and. the winter- 
brown checkerboard of France fled dis- 
tantly below. 


№ there was scattered snow апа bar- 
ren trees as they crossed the tiny hil- 
locks of the Vosges, then permanent snow 
and ice floes on the Rhine, a short stop 
at Basle, and then the black crisscross of 
Zürich Airport and "Fasten your lap- 
straps" in three languages, and they were 
planing down, a slight bump, the roar of 
jet deflection, and then they were taxiing 
up to the apron in front of the imposing, 
very European-looking buildings decked 
with the gay flags of the nations. 

At the Swissair desk inside the door, a 
woman was standing beside the recep- 
tion counter. As soon as Bond appeared 
in the entrance she came forward. “Sair 
Hilary Bray?" 

Yes” 

“I am Fräulein Irma Bunt. Personal 
secretary to the Count. Good afternoon. 
I hope you had a happy flight." 

She looked like a very sunburned 
female wardress, She had a square, brutal 
face with hard yellow eyes. Her smile 
was an oblong hole without humor or 
welcome, and there were sunburn blis- 
ters at the left corner of her mouth 
which she licked from time to time with 
the tip of a pale tongue. Wisps of brown- 
ist-gray hair, with a tight, neat bun 
at the back, showed from under a skiing 
hat with a yellow talc visor that had 
swaps which met under her chin. Her 
short body was dressed 
ight vorlage trousers topped 
a gray wind jacket ornamented over 
the left breast with a large red G topped 
by a coronet. Irma la notso-douce, 
thought Bond. He said, “Yes. It was 
very pleasant. 

"You have your baggage check? Will 
you follow me, please? And first your 
passport. TI 

Bond followed her through the pass- 
port control and out into the customs 


s w: 


hall. There were a few standers-by. Bond 
noticed her head nod casually. A man 
with a brief case under his arm, hanging 
about, moved away. Bond studiously 
examined his baggage check. Beyond the 
scrap of cardboard, he noticed the man 
slip into one of the row of telephone 
booths in the main hall outside the cus- 
toms area. 

"You speak German?” The tongue 
flicked out and licked the blisters. 

“No, I'm afraid not.” 

“French perhaps?” 

“A little. Enough for my work.” 

“Ah, yes. That is important, yes?” 

Bond's suitcase was unloaded off the 
wolley onto the barrier, The woman 
flashed some kind of a pass at ће aus- 
toms officer. It was very quickly done, 
but Bond caught a glimpse of her photo- 
graph and the heading “Bundespolizei.” 
So! Blofeld had got the fix inl 

"The officer said deferentially, “Bitte 
sehr" and chalked his symbol in the 
color of the day, yellow, on Bond's suit- 
case. A porter took it and they walked 
across to the entrance. When they came 
out on the steps, a neutral black Mer- 
cedes 300 SE saloon pulled smartly out 
of the parking area and slid to a stop 
beside them, Next to the chauffeur sat 
the man who had gone to the telephone. 
Bond's suitcase was put in the boot and 
they moved off fast in the direction of. 
Zürich. A few hundred yards down the 
wide road, the man beside the driver, 
who, Bond noticed, had been surrep- 
titiously watching in the twin driving 
mirrors, said softly, “Js gui,” and the car 
turned right-handed up a side road 
which was marked "Eingang Verboten! 
Mit Ausnahme von Figentümer und 
Personell von Privatflugzeugen." 

Bond was amused as he ticked off the 
little precautions. It was obvious that he 
was still very much on probation. 

The car came up with the hangars 
to the left of the main building, drove 
slowly between them and pulled up 
beside a bright orange Alouette heli- 
copter, adapted by Sud A for 
mountain rescue work. But this one had 
the red G with the coronet on its fuse- 
lage. So! He was going to be taken for 
a flight rather than a ride! 

“You have traveled in one of these 
machines before? No? It is very pleasant. 
One obtains a fine view of the Alps. 
Fraulein Bunt's eyes were blank with 
disinterest. They climbed up the alumi 
num ladder. "Mind your head, please!” 
Bond's suitcase was handed up by the 
chauffeur. 

It was a six-seater, luxurious in тей 
leather. Above and in front of them 
under his perspex canopy the pilot lifted 
a thumb. The ground stall pulled away 
the chocks and the big blades began to 

nove. As they accelerated, the men on 
the ground drew away, shielding their 
faces against the whirling snow. There 


was a slight jolt and then they were 
climbing fast, and the crackle of radio 
from th ntrol tower went silent. 

Inn cross ће passageway 
from Bond. The extra man was in the 
rear, hidden behind the Ziiricher Zei- 
tung. Bond leaned sideways and said 
londly, against the rattle of the machine, 
“Where are we heading for?” 

She pretended not to hear. Bond 
repeated his question, shouting it. 

“Into the Alps. Into the high Alps,” 
shouted the woman. She waved toward 
the window. “It is very beautiful. You 
like the mountains, isn’t it?” 

“I love them,” shouted Bond. 
like Scotland.” He leaned back in his 
seat, lit a cigarette and looked out of 
the window. Yes, there was the Züricher 
See to port. Their course was more or 
less eastsouth-east. They were flying at 
about 2000 fcet. And now there was the 
Wallensee. Bond, apparently uninter- 
ested, took the Daily Express out of his 
brief case and turned to the sports pages. 
He read the paper from last page to 
first, meticulously, every now and then 
casting a bored glance out of the win- 
dow. The big range to port would be 
the Rhatikon Alps, That would be the 
railway junction of Landquart below 
them. They held their course up the 
valley of the Pratigau. Would they keep 
on at Klosters or veer to starboard? Star- 
board it was. So! Up the Davos Valley! 
In a few minutes he would be flying 
over Tracy! A casual glance. Yes, there 
was Davos under its thin canopy of 
evening mist and smoke, while, above 
her, he was sull in bright sunshine. At. 
least she scemed to have had plenty of 
snow. Bond remembered the tremen- 
dous run down the Parsenn. Those had 
been the days! And now back on the old 
course again and giant peaks to right and 
left. "This must be the Engadine. The Sil- 
vretta Group away to starboard, to port 
Piz Languard and, ahead, the Bernina 
range diving down, like a vast ski jump, 
into Italy. That forest of lights away to 
starboard must be St. Moritz! Now 
where? Bond buried himself in his paper. 
A slight veer to port. More lights. Pon- 
tresina? And now the radio began to 
crackle and the "Seat belts" sign went 
up. Bond thought it time to express 
open interest. He gazed out. Below, the 
ground was mostly in darkness, but 
ahead the giant peaks were still golden 
in the dying sun. They were making 
straight for one of them, for a small 
plateau near its summit. There was a 
group of buildings from which golden 
wires swooped down into the darkness 
of the valley. A cable car, spangled in 
the sun, was creeping down. Now it had 
been swallowed up in the murk, The 
helicopter was still charging the side of 
the peak that towered above them. Now 
it was only a hundred feet up above the 

(continued on page 114) 


4 "NIA | 
u LANE f Tree © 
V Mf Gade [у ба v4 т M 
, Ф í 
УКУЫ 


dung 


“He’s the only ankle man Гое ever met here.” 


91 


Е 

THF TRUF GENIUS OF CHINESE CHFFS has always been their limitless flair for improvising. In old China, the lowliest 
cook could take an ordinary onion omelet and with a few spices transform it into a celestial delicacy. Foraging 
Chinese soldiers would climb almost inaccessible ocean cliffs to bring down swallows’ nests and convert them 
into birds nest soup. After they had eaten all of a shark's meat, Chinese fishermen found they could steam the 
fins into a ravishing broth. 

When the Chinese General Li Hung-chang was staying at the then newly amalgamed Waldorf-Astoria, 
in 1896, his three personal chefs who traveled with him were suddenly called upon to prepare a dinner for 
President Cleveland, who had come to pay his respects. They quickly assembled the local provisions on hand, 


5 


cuisine raises 
short-order 

cookery to a 

food By THOMAS MARIO 


old cathay 
high art 


PLAYBOY 


94 


mainly onions, pork, celery and mush- 
тоот», and created an authentic culinary 
triumph. They called their dish tsa-sui, 
ing a miscellany of practically any- 
thing. New Yorkers pronounced it chop 
suey, and have done their best ever since 
to make it the ultimate in Chinese culi- 
nary clichés. But the important thing is 
that Americans who had been accus- 
tomed to their meat on a platter, their 
sauce in a sauceboat and their vegetables 
in a vegetable dish were introduced to 
a glorious melange of small morsels of 
food quickly sautéed, quickly steamed 
and quickly bathed in а soy-flavored 
sauce. 

To a bachelor, one of the most mag- 
netic attractions of Chinese cooking is 
that with few exceptions (roast duck 
takes several hours and birds'-nest soup 
requires about eight hours on the fire) 
it's the speediest in the world. But the 
y instantaneousness of a Chinese dish, 
once it's on the fire, is also a possible 
booby trap. T here's a final moment when 
every morsel must be deployed within 
arms reach 
trimmed, shelled or in whatever state 
the last-minute posture demands. If the 
shrimp are done and the water chestnuts 
haven't been sliced, if you have to 
struggle with a bottle cap or search 
for the cornstarch or fumble with the 
garlic, you will inevitably commit a culi- 
nary faux pas—a la Chinese, For a 
prime secret of Oriental cooking is 
timing, and the times entailed are short. 
If you've been told that Chinese vege- 
tables are only half cooked, you've been 
told a halftruth; Chinese vegetables — 
by comparison with American plebeian 
standards — should be one-quarter cooked 
or one-eighth cooked. In some cases 
there is only the merest flirtation with 
a hot fire. Dishes of meat or poultry may 
be cooked in advance provided the vege- 
tables are added at the last moment. 

From the Oriental viewpoint, the 
princ gredient in any recipe is an 
unswerving dedication to good foo: 

i n Chinese biograp! 
and novels the hero is recognized as 
heroic by his allegiance to the good 
things of the table. His exact supper 
menu is as important as his midnight 
tryst after supper. 

No sluggards in the potable depart- 
ment, countless Chinese notables were 
famed for their ability to hold liquor 
Wang Ch tance, was remembered 


. for 


as the Five-Bottle Scholar. In modern 
nese, like the French, re- 
'everent 


times 
fuse to damn fine food with 
swilling. Before the dinner, 1 
made with rice wine instead of ver- 
mouth, clover clubs, gimlets and whi: 
ov rum sours are all modern Еш 

res. Toward the conclusion of a 
cup or two of a fine flowery tea 
iy prefered w the endless merry Bo 
round of tea gulping that usually goes 


on in American Chinese restaurants. The 
very end of the feast is properly capped 
with fruit liqueurs. 

In setting up your own Sinostyled 
food fest, at least two of the following 
dishes should be proffered — always with 
the proper rice. 


CHINESE RICE 
(Serves four) 

1 cup converted rice 

1% cups water 

1 teaspoon salt 

In а saucepan with heavy bottom and 
tight-fitting lid bring water to a rapid 
boil. Add salt. Slowly stir in rice. Cover 
and cook over lowest possible flame 18 
to 20 minutes or until rice is tender. Do 
not stir while rice is cooking. 


BEEF AND OYSTERS 
(Serves four) 


21% Ibs. sirloin steak 

16 large freshly opened oysters 

Peanut oil 

3 tablespoons onion, minced 

1 clove garlic, minced 

14 Ib. sliced fresh mushrooms 

] cup chicken broth 

3 tablespoons oyster sauce 

% teaspoon soy sauce 

3 tablespoons cornstarch 

Salt, pepper, monosodium glutamate 

2 eggs, well beaten 

% cup cold water 

% cup flour 

% teaspoon ground anise 

12 thinly sliced red radishes 

Cut steak into approximately l-in. 
squares, as thin as possible—no more 
than 1/16 in. thick. If steak is very cold 
or semifrozen, slicing will be easier. Heat 
2 tablespoons peanut oil in a wide sauce- 
pan. Add onion and garlic. As soon as 
onion begins to turn yellow, not brown, 
add sliced steak and mushrooms. Sauté, 
stirring frequently, until meat is brown. 
If any pool of liquid remains in pan, 
continue to cook until it disappears. Add 
chicken broth, oyster sauce and soy 
sauce. Bring to a boil. Mix cornstarch 
with М cup cold water to a smooth 
paste. Stir into pan and cook until thick. 
Add salt, pepper and monosodium glu- 
tamate to taste. Mix well the eggs, re- 
maining water, flour and anise, Dip 
oysters in batter. Heat 14 in. peanut oil 
a wide skillet until first wisp of smoke 
pears. Fry oysters until light brown on 
both sides. Mix radishes with beef mix- 
ture. Turn into serving dish. Arrange 
oysters on top. 


FANTAIL SHRIMP AND GELERY CABBAGE 
(Serves four) 


2 Ibs, large shrimp 

2 egg whites 

„ cup cornstarch 

Peanut oil 

1 large Spanish onion, cut julienne 


3 cups celery cabbage, сш julienne 

2 cups iceberg lettuce, cut julienne 

% cup catsup 

уа teaspoon sesame oil 

y4 teaspoon fresh gingerroot, minced 

1 teaspoon sugar 

1 tablespoon oyster sauce 

14 teaspoon soy sauce 

Salt, pepper, monosodium glutamate 

Remove shells from shrimp, leaving 
tail on. Cut lengthwise almost, but not 
quite, in half. Remove vein from back. 
In a narrow bowl beat egg whites until 
stiff, Add cornstarch and 14 teaspoon 
salt. Mix well. Transfer cgg-white mix- 
ture to a larger bowl, add shrimp and 
mix well. Heat 1 in. peanut oil in electric 
skillet preheated 10 370°. Fry shrimp 
until light brown on both sides. While 
shrimp are frying, heat in another wide 
pan 2 tablespoons peanut oil. When oil 
is very hot, add onion, celery cabbage, 
lettuce, catsup, sesame oil, gingerroot, 
sugar, oyster sauce and soy sauce. Sea- 
son to taste with salt, pepper and mono- 
sodium glutamate. As soon as vegetables 
are hot, not limp, remove from fire. Place 
vegetables in a mound on serving dish. 
Arrange shrimp around vegetables, crown 
fashion. 


SEA BASS WITH SWEET AND SOUR SAUCE 
(Serves four) 
2 sea bass, 1% Ibs. each 
2 ozs. shelled pine nuts 
14, cups chicken broth 
14 cup brown sugar 
3 tablespoons cider vinegar 
Cornstarch 
1 green pepper, diced 
2 pimientos, diced 
1314-02. can frozen grapefruit sections, 
thawed and drained 
14 teaspoon sesame oil 
2 tablespoons oyster sauce 
1 teaspoon soy sauce 
Salt, pepper, monosodium glutamate 
Peanut oil 
Have the sea bass cut into boneless 
and skinless fillets. Cut each fillet cross- 
wise into quarters, Place pine nuts in 
a shallow pan in oven preheated to 350°. 
Heat 10 to 12 minutes or until nuts 
begin to brown. Avoid scorching. In a 
saucepan combine chicken broth, sugar 
and vinegar. Bring to a boil Mix 8 
tablespoons cornstarch with И cup cold 
water. When smooth, slowly add paste 
to broth. Add green pepper, pimientos, 
grapefruit, sesame oil, oyster sauce and 
soy sauce. Again bring to a boil. Remove 
from fre. Sprinkle sea bass with salt, 
pepper and monosodium glutamate, Dip 
in cornstarch. Heat 4 in. peanut oil in 
a wide skillet until oil shows first wisp 
of smoke. Sauté fillets until light brown 
on both sides. Place fillets in serving 
dish. Bring sauce to a boil again and 
pour over fillets. Sprinkle with pine nuts. 
(concluded on page 132) 


5, 


picture would get old and repulsive lookin, 
but it didn’t work out that way.” 


the 


instead of me, 


"I kept hoping 


95 


our may playmate is a pretty hollywoodian with по eyes for acting 


Ат FIRST GLANCE, May Playmate Sharon Cintron would ap- 
pear to be a rather perplexing young lady. As a denizen 
of Hollywood, Са! y not noted for lack of ambi- 
tion on the part of its comelier citizens, she is thoroughly 
bored by the thought of a movie career, intends instead to 


become a hair stylist. Further, in a community much given 
10 artistic temperaments and. casual sophistication, she has 
never been known to affect worldliness in either manner 
or speech. And in the midst of a sensual land where women 
set great store by physical beauty, she appears refreshingly 


Above: o chronic browser in ort golleries, Shoron soys, I must 
drive them crozy becouse | never buy anything.” Below: hooked 
on yoga, she is now leorning from o yogi friend who goes by the 
book. "It keeps о girl loose," says Shoron, “во I'm oll for it." 


unimpressed by her own lush looks. At second glance, how- 
ever (in Sharon's case, glances become habit forming). 
certain elemental truths begin to come clear: far from being 
а puzzle, she is instead that rarity in tinselland: a pretty 
girl who is uncomplicated and straightforward. “I want to 
bea hair stylist,” she says, explaining with disarming direct- 
ness, "because I like styling hair, And the money is good. 
Why try to be a starlet and starve?" A girl who gives no 
perceptible indications of imminent starvation (her 110 
pounds are arranged in a healthy 36-23-36 configuration), 
Sharon is currendy employed as a receptionist in a law 
office, from which occupation she hopes to save sufficient 
funds to finance her stint at hairstyling school. Born 18 
winters ago in Perth Amboy, New Jersey, Miss Cintron 
trekked to California as a little girl when her mother decided 
on a change of scene, from the Jersey flatlands to the 
Golden State's pleasant hills. Sharon was schooled at Holly- 
wood High where she developed an interest in psychology 
and the disarming philosophy that one should have fun 
and exercise to the fullest one's capacity to enjoy life. For 
no small part of that enjoyment evolves from the 
boy-girl camaraderie of dating. "Because my father divorced 
my mother when I was very young, I never even knew 
with masculine 


him," she says. "So maybe I'm compens 
y now. In any case, I know I like the sense of pro- 
m that comes from having a male around. I'm attracted 
to guys who are understanding and sympathetic — and I 
have a special weakness for anyone nice enough to laugh 
at my jokes. But I can't bear kiss-and-tell types; probably 
this is because I'm too trusting and am disappointed by 
minor betrayals.“ Since graduation, Sharon has continued 
to study applied psychology at UCLA night school, a course 
she calls "fascinating, sort of do-it-yourself psychoanalysis. 
But I don't take it too seriously. I'm too much of a nut on 
romance to believe that human behavior can be equated 
with Pavlov and his dogs. I'd rather believe in love at first 


Below: Shoron ploys with her poodles." The big one is Tino, the 
little one Ti, and they mcke it hard for me to leove for work." 


sight than instinctual motor responses. Besides psychol- 
ogy, I'm interested in art and in yoga. Good painting 
has always flipped me. I like portraits best, probably 
because I like people. The yoga bit is recent. I haven't 
achieved spiritual well-being from it yet just а sore 
neck. But I'm still game.” Continuing to catalog the 
pleasures.that brighten her spirits, Sharon says, “I love 
all foods, but most especially Japanese dishes. I go wild 
over sashimi — that's raw fish, but never mind, it has 
a lovely taste. Like a lot of my friends, I get my outdoor 
kicks from horseback riding and swimmir 


. have a 
thing about fixing old furniture. I like classical Spanish 
music, Charles Laughton movies and simple, tailored 
clothes. And dancing the cha-cha. And the sound of 
rain on windows.” When asked what she wants most 
from life, she quietly replies, “Love. Money is nice, of 
course — but it can’t hold hands.” Miss May lives in 
her mother's home and sleeps in a cozy room full of 
ique furniture, with a color combination of white, 
beige and blue, an oasis which she has infused with a 
high degree of femininity. Attractive as the room is, 
the sine qua non of its interior decoration is provided 
only when Sharon herself is in residence —as may be 
witnessed on the accompanying gatefold, where our 
winsomely lovely Playmate thoughtfully nibbles an 
apple and, in the process, looks tempting enough to 
lure not only Adam but all his heirs as well. 


Right: pasta master Sharon Cintron, preparing а spo- 
ghetti supper for friends, soys, "Гуе never pretended 
to be much of a whiz at housekeeping, but how | love 
to cook! Almost, that is, as much as | love to eat.” 


Below: our charming chef-d'oeuvre observes that "The way to a топ'ѕ heart is supposed to be through his stomach— 
and | believe it's true. Fellows moy ignore my perfume, but one whiff of my marinaro sauce, and zap! I'm surrounded." 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO CASILLI 


PLAY BOY’S PARTY JOKES 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines tax office 
as a den of inequity. 


Апет watching an extremely attractive mater: 
nity-ward patient earnestly thumb through a 
telephone directory for several minutes, а 
hospital orderly finally asked if he could be 
of some help. 

“No thanks,” said the young mother, “I'm 
just looking for a name for my baby.” 

"But the hospital supplies a special booklet 
that lists every first name and its meaning,” 
said the orderly. 

“That won't help,” said the girl, "my baby 
already has a first name.” 


I had everything а man could want,” moaned 
a sad-eyed Friel of ours, “Money, a handsome 
home, the love of a beautiful and wealthy 
woman. Then, bang, one morning my wife 
walked ілі” 


Harry had proudly demonstrated his new 
ultracompact sporis car to his date of the eve- 
ning and had spun the little wonder to a halt 
on a lonely country road. After a considerable 
amount of amorous preliminaries, his girl 
coyly jumped out of the car and headed for a 
mossy spot nearby. Noticing that Harry wasn’t 
following, she turned and said, “Hurry and 
get out of the car before I get out of the 
mood.” 

Harry struggled for a minute, then mourn- 
fully said, "Until I get out of the mood I can't 
get out of the car!” 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines monotony 
asm 3 


Alter rushing into a drugstore, the nervous 
young man was obviously embarrassed when a 
prim, middle-aged woman asked if she could 
serve him, 

N. no,, he stammered, “I'd rather see the 
druggist.” 

‘I'm the druggist,” she responded cheerfully. 
"What can 1 do for you?” 

"Oh . . . well, uh, it's nothing important," 
aid, and turned to leavi 
"Young man," said the woman, "my sister 
and I have been running this drugstore for 
nearly 30 years. There is nothing you can tell 


he 


us that will embarrass us.” 

“Well, all right,” he said. “I have this awful 
sexual hunger that nothing will appease. No 
matter how many times I make love, I still 
want to make love again. Is there anything you 
can give me for it? 

“Just а moment," said the little lady, “I'll 
have to discuss this with my sister.” 
she returned. “The best 

“is $200 a week and a 
half-interest in the business.” 


Never pour black coffee into an intoxicated 
person. If you do, you'll wind up with а wide- 
awake drunk on your hands, 


Our v 


model as 


bashed Dictionary defines artist's 
attireless worker. 


| think you've made а mistake in my bill," 
said the ron, after three ellent highballs 
in a swank New York bar. “You've only 

charged me 15 cents.” 
“No mistake,” rey 
ge a nickel a drin 


1 the bartender. “I only 


ighted patron. “But 
how, at a nickel a drink, can you afford to 
operate such a plush bar? Are you the owner?" 
The owner's 

he's doing 
g to him down hercl” 


Heard a good опе lately? Send it оп a postcard 
to Party Jokes Editor, vtAvnov, 232 E. Ohio 
St., Chicago 11, Ili, and earn $25 [or cach joke 
used. In case of duplicates, payment is made 
[or first card received. Jokes cannot be returned. 


a Y 
FN Now SHONEGE 


“That certainly was a surprise ending!” 


104 


* AMERICANS СО НОМЕ 


2 ng so; but also Nathaniel Hawthome 
® aud James Fenimore Cooper, Herman 
PC Melville and even Henry James, who 
a if became an English citizen all the 

same. And they should е known, 
A those writers who "since the year one” 
a. have been trying to explode the myth 


of Europe; because “since the year one” 
they have all helplessly been drawn to 
Europe, too. Not only have some lived 
most of their adult lives as declared 
jaws, like Pound and Eliot and 
bur others, who would have 
at the title, е 
Benjamin 
wrote most of his 
Autobiography agland and 
and, indeed, that first of American books 
which we can still read with delight 
appeared in French before there was 
any edition at all in Franklin's native 
tongue. 

From Washington Irving (who spent 
17 ycars in Europe), through Hawthorne 
(who did seven at one stretch), to. Mel- 
ville (whose first voyage took 
direction, and who at his life's critical 
moments always headed across the At- 
lantic), to the whole generation of the 
1920s — on through Hei Miller to the 
present moment, American authors have 
sought in Europe a refuge from our 
weather and their friends, as well as a 
place for indolence and work. Only last 
year. James Baldwin, who has lived for 
many years in Paris, finished a novel in 
Istanbul; while William Burroughs, the 
black saint of the American very young, 
refuses still to return to his homeland; 
and Allen Ginsberg, who has made 
of Burroughs’ exile a standing charge 
against America, recently walked in the 
mou above Delphi in search of 
whatever is that, for more than a cen- 
tury and a half, our writers have sought 
in the Old World and not found— 
found, perhaps, by not finding. 

Not only certain great European cities 
such as London and Paris and Rome 
have provided our writers with a literary 
climate more favorable than their own; 
but the single small hill of Bcllosguardo 
се lists on a memorial tablet 
mes of more American novelists 


indeed, astonishing 

how many especially American fictions 
were conceived or actually executed 
abroad, from Rip Van Winkle through 
The Leather-Stocking Tales, The Marble 
Faun of Hawthorne and Twain's Pudd'n- 
head Wilson to Fiugerald's Tender 15 
the Night and The Sun Also Rises of 
Hemingway. 
Some of these books are, of course, 
isely studies of the American abroad; 

ie Henry James brought the 
c to full consciousness. it has been 


(continued from page 87) 


almost standard subject of our litera- 
ture. I have before me as I write a list 
of this year's "Outstanding Books for 
Summer Reading,” chiefly by Americans, 
and my eye following the plot summaries 
sees at a glance "on a Greek i 
“self-discovery on the French Riviera,” 
"a busy Left Bank street in Paris,” “a 
voyage from Mexico to pre-Nazi Ger- 
many" Moreover, resting beside one 
elbow is the manuscript I have just fin- 
ished, a novel dealing with Americans in 
Rome. Remembering such books as 
these, however, we remember also — with 
a twist which brings us back to Shapiro's 
side — that most of them, including my 
own, end with their protagonists going 
home. 

Such novels of exile and return reflect. 
the deepest truth, the mythical truth of 
the experience of Americans abroad, а 
truth of life does not always 
succeed in imitating, though it is one to 
which it aspires. T. S. Eliot, I suppose, 
will never go back to St. Louis to live 
rs; while Pound, 
ity in the States, 
seems set on dying in Rapallo. And if 
Rapallo looks, as Mr. Shapiro claims, 
just like Santa Barbara, California, that 
is just one of those irrelevant jokes that 
history plays on us all. Nonetheless, 
Hemingway, after long wandering, did 
come home to the American West to 
die: and Henry Miller, who threatened 
for a while to freeze into the image of 
the last exile in Paris, has managed to 
thaw out in California. As for the gener- 
ation of the Twenties, its backward trek 
has been memorialized in that bible of 
repatriation, Malcolm Cowley's Exile's 
Return. 

In literature, the pattern of exile and 
return works with more consistency; in- 
deed, in some cases going home seems 
to be lived out vicariously in books to 
spare the writer the indignity of living it 
out in fact. In the key novels of Henry 
James, for instance, from The American 
to The Ambassadors, the protagonists go 
back to the place from which they 
started, whether it be San Francisco or 
Boston. And though in The Ambassadors 
the departing Lambert Strether tells his 
young friend Chad to stay in France 
while he is leaving—we cannot help 
suspecting that Chad will, for ignoble 
reasons, take the path back to America 
already followed, for quite noble ones, 
by his senior. Whether in self-sacrifice or 
cowardice, the displaced American re- 
turns. At least in literature. 

The Dick Diver of Fitzgerald's Tender 
Is the Night is living in Geneva, N. V., as 
his book closes; while Kenyon and Hilda 
of Hawthorne's The Marble Faun are 
headed for marriage and America at 
their story's end; and Twain's Connecti- 
cut Yankee, who has traveled in time as 


well as space, returns to Connecticut to 
mark the close of his strange fable. E 
Eliot, Anglo-Catholic and Royalist, re- 
turns home in his ima i 
a pilgrimage in the Four Quartets not 
only to New England, but сусп, less 
foresceably, to Huck 
beside which he was born. 

In the deepest American imagination, 
Europe represents а retreating horizon, 
opposite to but quite as elusive as the 
retreating horizon of the West. And like 
the West, it is thought of as a place in 
which we find it difficult to remain, like 
the place of a drcam from which we wake 
in pleasure or fear. Or alternatively, wc 
view it as the object of a romantic fl 
tion from which we return to the real- 
ities of marriage or loneliness. Most 
typically, we represent Europe to our- 
selves as a woman we cannot hold: a 
saint to be worshiped from afar or a 
whore to be longed for and left— trom 
Henry Adams’ Virgin, through Twain's 
falsely accused St. Joan, to the “clouded” 
Mme. de Vionnet of James, and Pound's 
symbolic “old bitch gone in the teeth 
. . . Only homosexuals and the women 
who these days let homosexuals prefab- 
ricate their fantasies imagine Europe as 
the bronze-and-black Mediterranean boy 
appropriate to a Roman spring. 

Longfellow, for many years the chosen 
intermediary between che American mid- 
dle classes and Europe, found once in a 
Roman stornello what struck him as the 
perfect expression of the feeling with 
which the American artist goes home. 
“Se il Papa me donasse Campidoglio,” 
the song runs, "E mi dicesse, "lascia 
andar sta figlia’ | Quella che amavo prima, 
quella voglio"; which means in Eng- 
lish, “If the Pope would offer me the 
Capitoline Hill, and say to me, let your 
girl go, the one whom I loved first, her 
would I choose.” And after “the one 
whom I loved first.” Longfellow wrote, 
transcribing the lines in his notebook, 
"(America)." Americal The image is cus- 
tomary enough: the presentation of the 
longing for Europe as an unworthy im- 
pulse to adultery, and of the return as 
a righteous reassertion of loyalty. And 
with it as a duc, we can begin to resolve 
the contradiction between the fact that 
our writers have constantly warned us 
off Europe and constantly sought it out. 

The American, let us say, goes to 
Europe to see if he can triumph over 
temptation; and he learns that even if he 
cannot always leave what allures him, 
at least he can write accounts of leaving 
it. Discovering in Europe that his own 
country is myth as well as fact, and 
Europe fact as well as myth, he comes 
to see that one myth is as good as an- 
other and that he might as well stick to 
the one to which he was born. Mcan- 
while, he learns that in fact, in terms of 
plumbing and class relations and poli- 

(continued on page 151) 


THE BUM 


in which a young reporter learns 
that a man’s bride should be life, 
and pretension his bitterest foe 


memoir By BEN HECHT 


IY RAINED. IT RAINED, 

Waves of rain flooded the afternoon. 
І walked West Madison Street like 
a deepsea diver, An autumn wind 
slanted the rain and fired it against the 
town like pistol caps. 1 moved through 
this sea bottom of a day soaked, chilled 
and deeply pleased. 

I had a use for the rain, a double 
usc. It would help turn me into a bum, 
an objective advised by my city editor, 
Mr. Mahoney. “You'll never get this 
story unless you disguise yourself as a 
broken-down, witless bit of flotsam," 
said Mr. Mahoney, "which should not 
be too difficult.” And I would be able 
to describe the rain to Betha Ingalls 
next Sunday evening, as evidence of my 
poetic side. It was the only side of me 
she cared for. 

It made an uneven relationship, since 
1 loved all of Betha, including her tight- 
lipped, black.brocaded widow of a 
mother who looked like the bar of judg- 
ment with a patrician nose to boot. 
Mrs. Zelda Ingalls was as ominous a 
parent as ever put a hex on young love. 
1 became shiftyeyed in her presence, 
like a pickpocket waiting to be sent up 
for 30 days. 

Већа? Nineteen — a year my senior. 
Large суе so bright they seemed to 
consume her face as well as mine. I 
think they were blue and that she had 
hair. What а turncoat memory is, 
g onto trivia and dropping vital 
s into the. well of years. 

's body is easier to remember, 
n impression rather than a 
fact. It had no existence. Betha was a 
‚ а voice, deep eyes and a pair of 
almost transparent hands. The rest was 
fabric. usually white, that revealed only 
good taste. The body it covered re 
ble. di 
even 


ned remote and inconce 


akes more than a dress to do i 
though dresses in that d 
length and pillory collared. Betha was 


clothed also in a purity of mood and 
thought a white candle with a little 
llame of a face. 

How did a spottysouled young news- 
paper reporter meet so seraphic a girl? 
As he met nearly everyone else in that 
time — pursuing a story for Mr. Ma- 
honey. 

In let the embryo bum slosh along 
West Madison Street, and put down 
some background details; for there is 
no Mr. Mahoney hurrying me now to 
invade the town's flophouses in quest 
of a seven-column scoop. “If, by any 
chance, you dig up the heir to the 
Willard Chatfield millions, please re- 
member to telephone in the news. The 
Journal docs not mind the extra ex- 
pense.” 

Mr. Mahoney was referring to an in- 
cident some months before. While 
tracking down some minor piece of 
South Side news, I had turned a corner 
and seen a man running and leaping 
and tossing greenbacks into the air as 
if they were confetti. A score of yelling 
men were chasing him. Leading the 
pose was a white-aproned butcher. I 
saw the butcher swing his cleaver and 
watched the man's head leave his neck 
and land on the pavement The man 
stopped running but stayed erect, spurt- 
ing blood into the air like fireworks. 

I got the story from the triumphant 
posse leaders. The headless man, now 
fallen, had walked through the plate- 
glass window of Jesse Binga's Negro 
bank, terrorized its employees with 
drug-crazed whoops, scooped up $10,000 
and gone zigzagging and yodeling down 
the street. 

With the facts in hand, I hurried to 
get the scoop to the city desk. But I 
hurried on foot, the existence of the 
telephone totally forgotten. I ran the 
three miles to the Journal in good time. 
Mr. Mahoney listened coldly to my 
panted information about the headless 
bank robber. The City Press had bul- 
letined the story to all the afternoon 
papers minutes before and ruincd my 
scoop. 

“We ought to fire you on the grounds 
of stark idiocy,” said Mr. Mahoney, “but 
Mr. Hutchens may want to enter you in 
the Olympics. I'll ask him.“ 

Now to Betha, my blessed damsel. 

A month before, Mr. Mahoney had 
brought Betha into my life in the ob- 
lique fashion to which I was used. In 


youth, fate (continued on фаре 110) 105 


new additions to an imaginary menagerie for children of all ages 


SILVERSTEIN’S 
ZOO 


satire By SHEL SILVERSTEIN 


THE GALLOPING GRISS 


ZRBANGRALDNK Have you seen anything of the Galloping Griss? 
Purple eyed and dripping fat? 

If he went that way, 

I'll go this. 

If he went this way, 

I'll go that! 


ONE-LEGGED 


PLEASE BE KIND 


Please be kind to the One-Legged Zantz. 
Consider his feelings, 
Don't ask him to dance. 


ТНЕ ANNOUNCEMENT 


The Zrbangraldnk has just arrived 
And it's up to me to announce him 
Uh... how do you pronounce him . . 


THE UNFORTUNATE END OF A DICKEREE 


I think I've killed a Dickeree. 

I did it by mistake. 

I thought she was a ball, you see, 

So I bounced her on the wall, you see. 
I didn’t think at all, you see, 
That she might break. 


THE WORST 


When 

Singing songs of 

Scaryness, 

Of bloodyness 

And hairyness, 

J feel-obligated-at-thismoment-to-remind-you 
Of-theanostferocious-bcast-of all, 

Six thousand tons 

And nine miles tall, 

The Squishy Squashy Staggitall . . . 


ZIPPITY That's standing right behind you. 


THE SKINNY ZIPPITY 


О. pity the poor, poor Zippity, 

For he can eat nothing but Greli — 

A plant that grows only in New Caledoni, 
While the Zippity lives in New Dehli. 


107 


FLUSTERING PHANT 


THE FRIENDLY OLD SLEEPY-EYED SKURK 


The Sleepy-Eyed Skurk, he's a nice old thing, 
He'll let you sit inside his mouth 

If you knock on his chin, 

He'll let you in. 

But 1 rather doubt 

He'll let you out. 


THE BIRTH OF THE PHANT 


Some animals pop from cocoons, 

While others spring up from the clay. 

I've heard that some drop from balloons 

Or arrive in some other ridiculous way. 

But the Tiny-Toed Flustering Phant 

(And please don't repeat that I said it), 

He grows from the stem of the Nibulous plant, 
And the snob never lets you forget it. 


OOOPS! 


We've been caught by a Quick Digesting Snect, 
And now we are dodging his molars, 

And now we are restin’ 

In his lower intestine, 

And now we're back out on the street . . . 


108 


A FAMILY AFFAIR 


Oh, the Bulbulous Brole 

Is a beast with a soul 

And a manner serene and sedate. 
A model of meckness, 

With only one weakness, 

And that is for eating his mate, 
Heigh-ho, 

A masculine need for his mate. 


Now the White-Breasted Murd 

Is a delicate bird, 

With a song that is tenderly sung. 
She is gentle and shy, 

With a mauonly eye, 

And a fondness for eating her young, 
Heigh-ho, 

A motherly love for her young. 


The young Gross-Bottomed Grood — 
He takes milk for his food 

And goopies and bran for his tummy. 
And he goos with delight, 

When sometime at night, 

He can swallow his daddy and mummy, 
Heigh-ho, 

A filial love fills his tummy. 


And, oh, were you here 

For the wedding. my dear? 

And the quiet buffet that ensued? 

When the Bulbulous Brole 

Wed the Murd, I am tole, 

And produced a young Gross-Bottomed Grood, 

Heigh-ho, 

A gurgling Gross-Bottomed Grood. 109 


PLAYBOY 


110 


THE BUM (continued from page 105) 


leaps at you from unexpected corners. 
Or maybe the eyes of 18 look into such 
comers. 

Mr. Mahoney had said to mc, “We 
have been secretly tipped off that our 
former police chief, Timothy O'Shea, is 
being taken to the Elgin State Hospital 
for the Insane this morning, to become 
one of its most distinguished inmates. 
Members of his family are loyally ез 
corting him to the booby hatch. Hoping 
to elude the watchdog press, they are 
leaving from the Englewood station in- 
stead of from LaSalle Street. See what 
you can get from the grieving relatives. 
Also, I would like a statement from the 
lunatic himself.” 

There were five O’Sheas in the Engle- 
wood station shed, all tall and brawny 
fellows. I stood casually near them, 
listening in on the family chitchat, when 
one of them suddenly bellowed, “A 
newspaper fink! Get him!” I fled the 
station with four fierce O'Sheas after 
me. A rage against publicity in their 
dark hour had seemingly driven all the 
O'Sheas loco. With a half-block lead I 
turned and noted that an automobile 
had joined the chase. The lunatic ex- 
chief was at the wheel. 

I ran through the opened door of an 
undertaker's parlor, darted into the rear 
salesroom where a half-dozen shiny cof- 
fins were on display, threw open the rear 
door and headed back for one of the 
coffins. Its lid was down. I hoped it was 
empty. It was. I climbed into it, pulled 
the lid over me and propped it up for 
air with a silver dollar. 

Lying there in one of my future homes, 
I heard the ugly roar of the O'Shea 
posse as it galumphed through the dis- 
play room and out the opened back door 
in pursuit of the newspaper fink. I 
doubt whether anyone ever enjoyed a 
cofin more. Its inky dark gave me a 
sense of safety, of trouble outwitted. 

A half hour later, I pushed up the lid 
and left my earth box. The display room 
was empty. I walked into the front par 
lor. Two women and a man were dis- 
cussing a prospective burial with the 
undertaker. The women were Mrs 
Zelda Ingalls and her daughter, Betha. 

1 stood staring at the spiritual-looking 
girl in the white dress. She seemed ex- 
actly the sort of girl onc should mect 
after coming out of a coffin. As the song- 
writers might put it, I fell in love with 
an angel at first sight. 

Walking in West Madison Street in 
the melodious roar of the rain, 1 thought 
tenderly of Betha. It was Tuesday. No 
Betha till Sunday — a schedule invented 
by her omnipotent mother. I walked on, 
drcaming of Sunday. A good thing 
Betha's mother couldn't see me now. I 
was sockless, tieless, hatless, unshaven — 


a match for any bum in any flophouse. 
I was also a little drunk from sipping at 
the flask in my pocket, a touch of disguise 
suggested by Mr. Mahoncy. 

What fine phrases I would have for 
the poetic Betha on Sunday. L frowned 
experimentally at her judgment bar of 
a mother. I would look her in the eye 
on Sunday and say, “Not guilty, your 
Honor. I bring your daughter only 
descriptions of the rain.” 

I busied myself preparing them as I 
sloshed along, soaked through and half 
drunk, The hypotenuse of the rain. The 
rain turning into a swarm of Vs as it hit 
the pavement. The rain, a pliant wall of 
water, fuming and opalescent. The 
tenacious lash of the rain, with the wind 
for its handle. 

West Madison Street had darkened. 
Through the leaping rain, lighted store 
signs burned like golden-lettered banners 
flung stiffly into the storm. In their yel- 
low mists the rain looked like flurries 
of moths. 

I wicked away my Sunday bouquet of 
similes and thought of my assignment. 
Pride warmed my drenched body. Mr. 
Mahoney had sent me forth to find a 
man for whom scores of city police and 
private detectives had been searching 
vainly for a week. His name was Da 
Chatfield, aged 40, with a record of 20 
arrests in the last eight years. He had 
been arrested usually for lying in a coma 
on the pavement. He was known to the 
cops as Sleepy Dan, a vagrant and a 
morphine addict. 

A week ago a noted Chicago financier, 
Willard Chatfield, had died and left his 
millions to his only son, Danicl, alias 
Sleepy Dan, the flophouse bum. 

“That the cops can't find him signifies 
nothing," Mr. Mahoney had said to me. 
“But that Dai himself has ignored our 
headlines and failed to come scrambling 
out of his sewer for his papa's mi 
gives us а cluc of sorts. Slecpy Dan is 
either dying or dead. Or possibly he is 
a philosopher who prefers the freedom 
of poverty to the nasty burden of riches. 
Come what may, we expect some de- 
scriptive passages superior to Tolstoy.” 

Mr. Mahoney joked, but I knew his 
secret attitude. Mr. Martin Hutchens, 
our pink-faced, hungover, silver-haired 
managing editor shared it. They were 
hatching me out. Clucking, deriding 
and giving me their city as an incubator. 
God love their journalistic shades. 


I had written of bums often in news 
items: bums in front of a municipal 
judge: nose-running, dirt glazed head- 
hung derelicts mumbling their Not guil- 
Чез,” and listening without protest to the 
verdict —"30 days in the Bridewell. Call 
the next case.” But I had never seen 
them in the flophouse. 


The Victoria Hotel was one of the 
addresses in the police files for Sleepy 
Dan. It was a three-story building, but 
its two upper floors had been blitzed by 
time. Their windows were boarded up. 
Rats held carnival in the darkened 
rooms. A carpet of bugs covered the lit- 
tered floors and maggots glowed around 
rodent carcasses. 

The street floor, only, was available 
to guests. I returned to it after a peek 
at the disabled upper stories. The street 
floor was divided into two large rooms — 
the lobby in which the guests could 
stand, the other in which they slept. 

Two broken windows in the lobby 
looked on the street. Rain poured 
through them. Pools of water rippled 
around the feet of the standing guests. 
There were some 50 of them. An un- 
shaded electric bulb hung from the 
ceiling. Faces glinted in its light. 

I stood, wet and shivering, and saw 
around me an assembly of truthtellers, 
of humans unmasked and visible only as 
what they were. Vacuity, hunger, despair, 
fear, defeat, desolation were stamped 
plainly on their faces, without the veil 
of boast or lie. The things you guessed 
at in other people were vividly seeable 
in these ragged ones, as if they were 
actors offering brilliant characteriza- 
tions. Their dirtiness was half hidden 
in the dim light, but their stink be- 
trayed their rotted clothes, clotted bodies 
and weak bladders. Yet I saw grins all 
around me. Nitwit and goon-born, but 
still grins. A flock of grinning scarecrows 
stood silently watching the rain as if it 
were a parade. 

A hand pulled my sleeve. An old man, 
small as a boy, smiled up at me with 
watery, colorless eyes His toothless 
mouth whispered, “I ain't got a dime for 
sleepin’ here tonight.” 

I handed him a coin, unaware that it 
was a half dollar till it left my fingers. 
‘The little old man gulped, shivered and 
started to weep. He whispered, “Jesus 
love you.” His hand squeezed my arm 
and the weeper whispered again, “Come 
оп, I'll fix you up, sweet man. I know a 
place that's private. Nobody'll see. Come 
‘on, honey boy, I'll fix you up.” 

I moved away from the decrepit homo- 
sexual and his unwholesome burst of 
gratitude. 

The 50 stood for hours in the pools 
of lobby water. I was one of them, silent, 
shivering, nipping at my whiskey flask 
and hungry as a wolf in whelping time. 
I wrote the scene in my head for Mr. 
Mahoney. My copy would begin, "Out- 
side, the pizzicato of the rain . . ." 

The rain ended. A lonely wind re- 
mained in the wet street. Talk started 
around me. À man near me asked a 
die. Voices offered guesses. The rid- 
dle asker laughed and finally revealed 

(continued on page 147) 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARVIN Е. NEWMAN 


Jai-alai fan is sartorially on the pelota in wool-mohoir pullover with leather collar, cuffs, bottom, by Cortefiel de Espana, $40. 


three fashion finds of casual elegance from the land of sol y sombra 


attire By ROBERT L. GREEN p ann rest nxazine are elegantly interwoven in the outline of a 


new sartorial silhouette: the Spanish look. Amalgamating the uncluttered lines of classic flamenco attire with 


the luxuriance of the matador's dazzling traje de luces, this emerging profile enlivens the urbane informality of 
Continental casualwear with a venturesome individuality entirely its own. In handsome hides and fabrics of lush tint 


111 


Torero twirls muleta for attentive aficionado, who earns olés in Mediterranean-blue wool pullover with deep-V sueded antelope 
front, gray neck stripe, zipper turtleneck, $60, pleatless belted wool flannel slacks, $45, both by Cortefiel de Espana. 


and texture, designers in cosmopolitan Madrid and Barcelona are fashioning attractively unorthodox, consummately 

lored sports- and outerwear which promise to rank these two cities among the world’s leading male fashion centers. 
Unabashed but understated is the tasteful tone in rainwear, which will be coping with inclemency Stateside (as well as 
on the plains in Spain) in cotton poplin models both long and short, belted and beltless, classic and unconventional 


1 to r: caballero in svede-trimmed coat with cope sleeves, military collar, wide-welt stitch- 
ing, by Cortefiel de Espono, $35. 


Cotton poplin fer the rain in Ѕрай 
ing, by Coste de Majorca, $60; amigo in belted knee-length coat with wide cuffs, full black 


— with solid browns setting a muted mood, colorfully counterpointed by a few coats in alabaster white. No less 
decoratively decorous, the new wardrobe of Spanish sweaters will be available in full-cut cardigans and pullovers, 
blending supersoft weaves and leathers in outspoken solid shades. Comfortably correct for corrida or jai-alai 
gallery, these spirited styles embody all the attributes implied in the phrase, buen gusio — good taste. 


113 


PLAYBOY 


HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE 


slope, coming in to the plateau and the 
buildings. The pilot's arms moved on 
his joy stick. The machine pitched a 
little and slowed. The rotor arms swung 
languidly and then accelerated as the 
machine hovered and settled. There 
came a slight bump as the inflated rub- 
ber "floats" met the snow, 2 dying whir 
from the rotor and they were there. 

Where? Bond knew. They were in the 
Languard range, somewhere above Pon- 
tresina in the Engadine, and their alti- 
tude would be about 10,000 feet. He 
buttoned up his raincoat and prepared 
for the rasping dagger of the cold air 
on his lungs when the door was opened. 

Irma Bu her boxlike smile. 
“We have arrived," she said unnecessarily. 

The door, with a clatter of falling ice 
partides, was wrenched open. The last 
rays of the sun shone into the cabin. 
"They caught the woman's yellow sun 
isor and shone through, tuming her 
face Chinese. The eyes gave out a false 
blaze, like the glass eyes of a toy animal, 
under the light. "Mind your head." She 
bent down, her tight, squat bchind in- 
viting an enormous kick, and went down 
the ladder. 

James Bond followed her, holding his 
breath against the searing impact of the 
Arctic, oxygenless air. There were some 
men standing around dressed like ski 
guides, They looked at Bond with curi- 
Osity, but there was no greeting. Bond 
nt on across the hard-trodden snow 
in the wake of the woman, the extra 
п following with his suitcase. He 
‘ard the engine stutter and roar, and 
a blizzard of snow particles stung the 
right side of his face. Then the iron 
grasshopper rose into the air and rat- 
tled off into the dusk. 

lt was perhaps 50 yards from where 
the helicopter had landed to the group 
of buildings. Bond dawdled, getting 
preliminary bearings. Ahead was a long, 
low building, now ablaze with lights. 
Yo the right, and perhaps another 50 
yards away, were the outlines of the 
typical modern cable railhead, a boxlike 
structure, with a thick flat roof canted 
upward from close to the ground. As 
Bond examined it, its lights went out. 
Presumably the last car had reached the 
valley and the line was closed for the 
night. To the right of this was a large, 
bogus-chalet-type structure with a vast 
veranda, sparsely lit, that would be for 
the mass tourist trade — again a typical 
piece of high-Alpine architecture. Down 
to the left, beneath the slope of the 
plateau, lights shone from a fourth build. 
ing that, except for its Hat roof, was out 
of sight 

Bond was now only а few yards from 
the building that was obviously his 
destination. An oblong of yellow opened 
invitingly as the woman went in and 


(continued from page 90) 


held the door for him. The light illumi- 
nated a big sign with the red G sur- 
mounted by the coronet. It said GLORIA 
KLUB. 3605 METRES. PRIVAT! NUR FUR 
MITGLIEDER. Below in smaller letters it 
said "Alpenberghaus und Restaurant Piz 
Gloria," and the drooping index finger 
of the traditional hand pointed to the 
right, toward the building near the 
cable-head. 

So! Piz Gloria! Bond walked into the 
inviting yellow oblong. The door, re- 
leased by the woman, closed with a 
pneumatic hiss. 

Inside it was deliciously warm, almost 
hot. They were in a small reception 
room, and a youngish man with a very 
pale crewcut and shrewd eyes got to 
his feet from behind a desk and made 
a slight bob in their direction. “Sir 
ry is in number two. 

Weiss schon." said the woman curtly 
and, only just more politely, to Bond, 
“Follow me, please." She went through 
a facing door and down a thickly piled, 
red-carpeted passage. The left hand wall 
was only occasionally broken by win- 
dows interspersed with fine skiing and 
mountain photographs. On the right 
were at first the doors of the club rooms, 
marked Bar, Restaurant, and Toiletten. 
Then came what were obviously the 
doors of bedrooms. Bond was shown 
into number two. It was ап extremely 
comfortable, chintzy room in the Ameri- 
can motel style with a bathroom leading 
off. The broad picture window was now 
curtaincd, but Bond knew that it must 
offer a tremendous view over the valley 
to the Silvretta Group above St. Moritz. 
Bond threw his brief case on the double 
bed and gratefully disposed of his bowler 
hat and umbrella. The extra man ap- 
peared with his suitcase, placed it on 
the luggage stand without looking at 
Bond and withdrew, closing the door 
behind him. The woman stayed where 
she was. “This is to your satisfaction?” 
‘The yellow eyes were indifferent to his 
enthusiastic reply. She had more to say. 
“That is good. Now perhaps I should 
explain some things, convey to you some 
laws of the club, isn't 

Bond lit a cigarette. “That would 
certainly be helpful.” He put a politely 
interested expression on his face. “Where 
are we, for instance?” 

"In the Alps. In the high Alps,” said 
the woman vaguely. “This Alp, Piz 
Gloria, is the property of the Count. 
‘Together with the Gemeinde, the local 
authorities, he constructed the Seilbahn. 
You have seen the cables, yes? This is 
the first year it is opened. It is very 
po and brings in much money 
There are some fine ski runs. The Gloria 
Abfahrt is already famous. There is also 
a bobsleigh run that is much greater 
than the Cresta at St. Moritz. You have 


heard of that? You ski perhaps? Or make 
the bobsleigh?” 

The yellow eyes were watchful. Bond 
thought he would continue to answer 
no to all questions. Instinct told him to. 
He said apologetically, "I'm afraid not. 
Never got around to it, you know. Too 
much bound up with my books, per- 
haps.” He smiled ruefully, self-critically. 

"Schade! That is a pity." But the eyes 
registered satisfaction. “These installa- 
tions bring good income for che Count. 
That is important. It helps to support 
his life's work, the Institut.” 

Bond raised his eyebrows a polite 
fraction. 

“The Institut für physiologische For- 
schung. It is for scientific research. The 
Count is a leader in the field of allergies 
— you understand? This is like the hay 
fever, the unableness to eat shellfish, 
yes" 

“Oh really? Can't say I suffer from 
any myself." 

"No? The laboratories are in a sepa- 
rate building. "There the Count also 
lives. In this building, where we are, 
live the patients. He asks that you will 
not disturb them with too many ques- 
tions. These treatments are very delicate. 
You understand?" 

"Yes, of course, And when may I see 
the Count? I'm afraid 1 am a very busy 
man, Fräulein Bunt. There are matters 
awaiting my attention in London." 
Bond spoke impressively. “The new Af- 
rican States. Much work has to be done 
on their flags, the design of their cur- 
rency, their stamps, their medals. We 
are very shorthanded at the College. 1 
hope the Count understands that his 
personal problem, interesting and im- 
portant though it is, must take second 
place to the problems of Government." 

Bond had got through. Now she was 
all eagerness, reassurance. “But of course, 
my dear Sair Hilary. The Count asks to 
be excused tonight, but he would much 
like to receive you at 11 o'clock tomor- 
row morning. That is suitable?" 

"Certainly, certainly. That will give 
me time to marshal my documents, my 
books. Perhaps — Bond waved to the 
small writing desk near the window— 
“I could have an extra table to lay these 
things out. I'm afraid —" Bond smiled 
deprecatingly — "we bookworms need а 
lot of space." 

"Of course, Sair Hilary. It will be 
done at once." She moved to the door 
and pressed а bell button. She gestured 
downward, now definitely embarrassed. 
"You will have noticed that there is no 
door handle on this side?" (Bond had 
done so. He said he hadn't.) "You will 
ring when you wish to leave the room. 
Yes? It is on account of the patients. 
It is necessary that they ha 
is dificult to prevent the 
other for the sake of gossi 

(continued on page 116) 


Professor Pickering set the machine to take him back 500,000 years and to set him in the African ‘Transvaal. 


” Professor Pickering said, “ti 
nen he regains conscious 


there have been cases of prolonged coma lasting many 
years, from which the patient has awakened to an entirely 
alien world.” 

"It would appear to be somewhat more difficult to leap 
into the past,” Professor Dickson remarked dryly. 

“Yet 1 have done it!” Professor Pickering said, his eyes 
flashing through his bifocals and his white goatee jutting 


forward. “I have done it and have come back! To state 
it simply, it was a matter of detecting the principles 
involved and building the instrument to apply them. 
The recent advances in electroencephalography were an 
1 was fortunate enough 10 discover that 
pulses of brain action could be harnessed 
needs of time exploration.” 
d not keep the note of incredulity from 
You are not trying to tell me, old friend, 
that you have visited the (concluded on page 156) 


115 


PLAYBOY 


HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE 


their good. You understand? Bedtime is 
at 10 o'dock. But there is a night staff 
in case you should need any service. 
And the doors are of course not locked. 
You may reenter your room at any time. 
meet for cocktails in the bar 


¢ its brief appearance. "My 
girls are much looking forward to meet- 
ing you: 

The door opened. It was one of the 
n dressed as guides, а swarthy, bull- 
ked man with brown Mediterranean 
eyes. One of Mare-Ange’s Corsican de- 
fectors? 1n rapid, bad French, the 
an said that another table was de- 
sired. "This was to be furnished dı 
din he man said “Entendu.” She 
held the door before he could close it 
and he went off down the passage to the 
right. Guards quarters at the end of 
the Bond's mind went on 
clicking up the clues. 

“Then that is all for the present, 

ir Hilary? The post leaves at midday. 
We have radio telephone communica- 
tions if you wish to use them. May I 
any message to the Count?" 

“Please say that I look forward greatly 
to meeting him tomorrow. Until six 
o'dock then." Bond suddenly wanted 
to be alone with his thoughts. He ges 
tured toward his suitcase. "I must get 
myself unpacked.” 

“Of course, Sair Hilary, Forgive me 
for detaining you." And, on this gracious 
note, Irma Bunt closed the door, with 
its decisive click, behind her. 

Bond stood still in the middle of the 
room. He let out his breath with a quiet 
hiss. What the hell of a kettle of fish! 
He would have liked to kick one of the 
dainty bits of furniture very hard indeed. 
But he had noticed that, of the four 
electric light prisms in the ceiling, one 
s a blank, protruding eyeball. Closed- 
circuit television? If so, what would be 
its range? Not much more than a wide 
circle covering the center of the room. 
Microphones? Probably the whole ex- 
pinse of ceiling was one. That was the 
nmick. He must assume that 


мо 


convey 


James Bond, his thoughts racing, pro- 
ceeded to un take a shower 
make himself presentable for “my girls: 

It was one of those leather-padded 
bars, bogus mascu ad still, because 
of its newness, smelling like the inside of 
a new motorcar. It was made to look like 
a Tyrolean Stube by a big stone fireplace 
with a roaring log fire and cartwheel 
chandeliers with red-stemmed electric 
There were many wrought- 
iron gimmicks — wall-light brackets, ash- 
trays, table lamps апа the bar itself 


116 was "gay" with small flags and miniature 


(continued from page 114) 


liqueur bottles. Attractive zither music 
tripped out from a hidden loud-speaker. 
It was not, Bond decided, а place to get 
scriously drunk in. 

When he closed the leather-padded, 
brass-studded door behind him, there was 
a moments hush, then a mounting of 
decibels to hide the covert glances, the 
swift summing up. Bond got a fleeting 
impression of а group of the most beau- 
tiful girls he had ever seen, when Irma 
Bunt, hideous in some kind of home- 
made, homespun après-ski, in which 
orange and black predominated, waddled 
out from among the galaxy and took him 
in charge. “Sair Hilary." She grasped his 
hand with a dry, monkey grip. “How 
delightful, isn't it? Come please, and 
meet my girls.” 

It was tremendously hot in the room 
and Bond felt the sweat bead on his fore- 
head as he was led from table to table 
and shook this cool, this warm, this lan- 
guid hand. Names like Ruby, Violet, 
Pearl, Anne, Elizabeth, Beryl sounded in 
his ears, but all he saw was a sea of beau- 
tiful, sunburned faces and a succession of 
splendid, sweatered young bosoms. It was 
like being at home to the Tiller or the 
Blucbell Girls. At last he got to the seat 
that had been kept for him, between 
Irma Bunt and a gorgeous, bosomy 
blonde with large blue eyes. He sat down, 
overcome. Ihe barman hovered. Bond 
pulled himself together. “Whiskey and 
soda, please, id, and heard his voice 
from faraway. He took some time light- 
ing а cigarette while sham, stage conver- 
sation broke out among the four tables 
the semicircular embrasure that must, 
during the day, be the great lookout 
point. Ten girls and Irma. АП British. 
No su mes. No other mi Girls in 
their 90s. Working girls, probably. Sort 
of air-hostess type. Excited at having a 
man amongst Шет — а personable man 
and a baronet to boot — if that was what 
one did to a baronet. Pleased with his 
private joke, Bond turned to the blonde. 
“I'm terribly sorry, but I didn’t catch 
your name." 

“I'm Ruby." The voice was friendly 
but refined. "It must be quite an ordeal 
being the only chap —amongst all us 
girls, 1 mean.“ 

“Well, it was rather a surprise. But a 
very pleasant one. It's going to be diffi- 
cult getting all your names right.” He 
lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Be an 
angel and run through the field, so to 
speak. 

Bond's drink came and he was glad to 
find it strong. He took a long but discreet 
pull at it. He had noticed that the girls 
were drinking colas and squashes with a 
sprinkling of feminine cocktails — orange 
blossoms, daiquiris. Ruby was one of the 
ones with a daiquiri. It was apparently 
OK to drink, but he would be careful to 


show 2 gentlemanly moderation. 

Ruby seemed pleased to be able to 
break the ice. “Well, II start on your 
right. That's Miss Bunt, che sort of ma- 
tron, so to speak. You've met her. Then, 
in the violet camelot sweater, well, that's 
Violet, of course. Then at the next table. 
The one in the green and gold Pucci 
shirt is Anne and next to her in green is 
Pearl. She’s my sort of best friend here.” 
And so it went on, from one glorious 
golden girl to the next. Bond heard 
scraps of their conversation. "Fritz says 
I'm not getting enough Forlage. My skis 
keep on running away from me." "It's 
the same with me—" a le — "my sit- 
upon's black and blue.“ The Count says 
I'm getting on very well, Won't it be 
awful when we have to go?" "I wonder 
how Pollys doing? She's been out a 
month now." think Skol's the only 
stuff for sunburn, АП those oils and 
creams are nothing but frying fat.” And 
so on — mostly the chatter you would ex- 
pect from a group of cheerful, healthy 
girls learning to ski, except for the oc- 
casional rather awed reference to the 
Count and the covert glances at Irma 
Bunt and Bond to make sure that they 
were behaving properly, not making too 
much noise. 

While Ruby continued her discreet 
roll call, Bond tried to fix the names to 
the faces and otherwise add to his com- 
prehension of this lovely but bizarre 
group locked up on top of a very high 
Alp indeed. The girls all seemed to share 
a certain basic, girl-guidish simplicity of 
manners and language, the sort of girls 
who, in an English pub, you would find 
sitting demurely with a boyfriend sipping 
a Babycham, pufling rather clumsily at 

igarette and occasionally saying Par- 
don.” Good girls, girls who, if you made 
a pass at them, would say, “Please don't 
spoil it all,” "Men only want one thing” 
or, huffily, "Please take your hand away." 
And there were traces of many accents, 
accents from all over Britain — the broad 
vowels of Lancashire, the lilt of Wales, 
the burr of Scotland, the adenoids of re- 
fined Cockney. 

Yours truly foxed, concluded Bond as 
Ruby finished with "And that's Beryl in 
the pearls and twin set. Now do you 
think you've got us all straight?" 

Bond looked into the round blue eyes 
that now held a spark of animation. 
“Frankly no. And I feel like one of those 
comic film stars who gets snarled up in a 
girls’ school. You know. Sort of St. 
Trinian’s.” 

She giggled. (Bond was to discover that 
she was a chronic giggler. She was too 
“dainty” to open her lovely lips and 
laugh. He was also to find that she 
couldn't sneeze like a human, but let 
out a muffled, demure squeak into her 
scrap of lace handkerchief, and that she 
took very small mouthfuls at meals and 

(continued on page 170) 


“How do you do, Miss. Let me introduce myself — Im 117 
the architect of this building.” 


© 
the winner in our three-way tie: perky and petite LERLE coche CERÊ 


playmate of the year 


In a disarming display of the captivating campaign tactics that won her the lioness’ share of reader votes 
for Playmate of the Year, winner June reveals a perfect blend of liltle-girl charm and big girl proportions. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY POMPEO POSAR ng 


BP ызы in March on our choice of Playmate of the Year, we appealed to PLAYBOY readers to help us 
select the winner from among three fine finalists — Avis Kimble (Miss November), Laura Young (Miss October) 
and June Cochran (Miss December). Now, with all votes tallied, we are pleased to announce that December's June 
proved the favorite of her annum. Winner of her state title in both the Miss World and Miss Universe contests, 
Hoosier Miss Cochran flipped when we gave her the good news (and a handsome bonus award). “You know," she 
told us, “I never thought I'd win. Гус always considered myself as sort of an ugly duckling. And besides, the 
other two finalists were so very beautiful.” June-mooners should be happy to lcam that there are morc at home 
like her: sisters Donna, Diana, Dana, Deanna and Debby all stack up as potential Playmates of the future. 


Regardless of garb, June can’t help busting out all over while adding a lyrical note to a casual bedroom 
photo session as our reader-selected Playmate of the Year. Many nominated her for Playmate of the Decade. 


120 


122 


AOGAUIA 


Left: The Grond Prix de Monaco unwinds around the harbor. Below: Formally clad, fixedly 
determined players rim the baccarat table in the Casino's inner sanctum, the Solon Privé. 


* 


man ,. б "bs ‘oe А 
At his neiman portrays a famed principality’s principal pastimes 
leisure 


MONTE CARLO ~ along with Monaco's other communes, La Condamine and Monaco-Ville, 
site of the Palace —is a territorial microcosm unique in its raison d'être. Although over 
100,000 more visitors tread yearly through Monaco's Oceanographic Museum than its Casino, 
the postage-stamp principality would be little more than just another sunny promontory on 
the Cote d'Azur if it weren't for the international drawing power of its monolithic Casinos 
green-baized gambling tables, His Most Serene Highness, Prince Rainier, governs his Graustark- 
by-the-Sea with a benign iron hand, but it is still Dame Fortune who rules the waking hours 
of most of its non-Monegasque inhabitants and visitors (a save-the-people-from-themselves 
royal edict forbids Monacan citizens to gamble in the Casino). 

Monaco is a $68-acre magnet ingeniously designed to attract money. It offers a stunning 
yacht basin made more so by the almost constant presence of Greck shipping czar Aristotle 


PLAYBOY 


124 


Above: Photographers ore on inquisitive breed—a Grond Prix race car being 
pushed from the pit lures a lensmon to its exotic machinery. Below: A pon- 
Oromic view from a Hôtel de Paris balcony encompasses the racers sweep- 
ing by, the bright blue harbor and the old quarter of Monaco in the distance 


Onassis’ ultraluxurious floating palace, two of the world's premiere auto 
events (The Monte Carlo Rallye, held during the end of January, finishes in 
Monaco after car-killing journeys from all corners of Europe; the Monaco 
Grand Prix is a glamor-filled high-speed chase through Monte Carlo's streets, 
in May, by the world’s top racing drivers) and, of course, the Casino. 

“In the gambling salons" rravmov's artistobserver LeRoy Neiman 
notes, "an aura of interpersonal conflict crackles over the cards of the 
chemin de fer and baccarat tables; by contrast, an air of impending profit 
hovers over the roulette wheels and the trente et quarante tables, while a 
more boisterous American-influenced atmosphere pervades the crap table. 
The more affluent try their luck in the Salons Privés where one of the 
baccarat tables operates with a 500-franc ($100) minimum wager — stakes 
that preclude the presence of the faint of heart or feeble of bankroll.” 


Restrained emotions dominate system players ond impulse bettors alike os they seek out the roulette wheel's secret. 


2 


498-orpavy 6014 1,uop І ft purus 
— Surana sup pas) 211111 D ш,],, 


Ribald Classic 


from Der Prokurator of Goethe 


IN AN ITALIAN SEACOAST TOWN à merchant 
captain, who had accumulated a vast 
fortune through 50 years of business 
transactions, noted that he had so busily 
occupied himself in gaining and prese 
ing his treasures that he had come to 
know little of the social delights. Seeking 
to fulfill this aspect of being, he sent out 
his shipmates to inquire after the young- 
est and most beautiful girl in the city. 
Soon he came upon a young woman who, 
at this time, deserved to be called the 
most beautiful of all—young, of fine 
culture and good upbrin: whose 
form and entire being promised the most 
pleasant prospects. Alter brief negot 
tions, by which the most advantageous 
re secured [or the beauty, 

celebrated, and from 
this day on our merchant felt for the 
first time that he was really enjoying his 
th. After a time, howe upon 
observing the transactions of fellow mer- 
chants from whom he had now separated. 
himself, he became malcontent and once 
more experienced the stirrings of his old 
passion, even to the point of [e 
dissatisfaction at the side of his wife. 
Finally, the desire to return to the sea 
became so great that he took violently ill. 
"Lam becoming wretched from а lack 
of activity," he told his wife. “Unless 1 
alter my course I shall be ni death in 
а short time. But it is risky to separate 
oneself from a wife such as you, at your 
ge and with your constitution. Would 
I not be foolish to hope that you could 
abstain from the joys of love? For a time 
I shall be the object of your wishes; but 
who can predict the conditions that shall 
occur or the opportunities that may arise, 
and another man will reap in reality 
what your imagination had intended for 
те. When this happens, promise me only 


this: that you do not choose one of the 
frivolous boys who, no matter how polite 
they may look, are even more dangerous 
to а woman's honor than to her virtue. 
Dominated more by vanity than desire, 
they go after every woman and find 
nothing more natural than to sacrifice 
one for another. If you feel inclined to 
look for a friend, then look for one who 
deserves the name, who by his modesty 
and discretion can enhance the joys of 
love with the virtue of secrecy.” 
Inspired by her husband's candor and 
wisdom, she at first resolved to remain 
celibate. As time passed, however, she 
felt her desires stirred to the point of 
desperation. This was the state in which 
she found herself when she learned, from 
e of her husband, that a young 
t returned from his studies 
in Bologna, a man of whom one could 
not say enough in praise. Daily she ob- 
served him secretly as he passed her 
window: finally she could no longer re- 
sist the wish 10 attract his attention. Sud- 
denly she formed the swift resolve to 
speak to this beloved m l possess 
him at wh 
The 


ned her entire sto 
ge she had made to hi 
a bricf pause, the young ma 
п tones of mature reflection: 
fidence with which you honor 
me makes me happy to a most high de- 
gree. I wish much to convince you that 
you have not turned to an unworthy 
man. But 1 could not be in a stranger 
situation. I am compelled to leave you 
and to impose the greatest violence upon 
myself at a moment when I ought to 
lon myself to the sw of feel. 
ings. I must not at this moment take 
possession of the happiness that awaits 
me in your arms. Ah, if. postponement 


аһ: 


te 


does not cheat me of your hopes 
The beautiful lady inquired anxiously 
for the са 


sc of this strange utterance. 
“Just as 1 was finishing my studie 
Bologna," said he, “I became seriousl 


with an ailment that threatened to 
shatter my physical and mental powers. 
In my extreme distress and most violent 
pain, 1 made а vow that were 1 allowed 
to recover I would spend a year in strict 
fasting and abstain from all enjoyment 
of whatever nature it might be. For 10 
months now Т have kept my vow most 
faithfully, and in view of the great bene- 
fit 1 have received, these mouths did not 
seem long. But what an eternity the 
remaining two months will be, since only 
after they have run their course may 1 
partake of a bliss that transcends all 
understanding. 

1 scarcely dare to m 
you and to indicate the means by whi 
1 can be released from my vow ѕоопе 
If 1 were to find someone who would 
undertake to keep the vow as strictly and 
unfailingly as 1, and who would share 
half the remaining period, H would be 
free all the sooner and nothing would 
nd in the way of our wishes. Would 
you be willing, dear friend, to remove 
the hindrance that stands in our way? 

"The lady, no test seeming too hard 
view of her quest for so worthy a p 
consented, and the strange vow kept her 
so preoccupied that she was u 
think of anything other than adher 
it. It was on the day before 
that the wise merchant and, 
after rewarding the lawyer handsomely 
for fulfilling the role he had secretly 
agreed to play, the merchant. availed 
himself of the treasure he had so pru- 
dently pr ed. 

— Translated by Paul J. Gillette 


е a proposal to 
h 


127 


128 


PETER O'TOOLE arabian knight 


IN THE EXTRAORDINARY film amalgam of sand, sun and stars 
that is Lawrence of Arabia, a 29-year-old Irishman named 
Peter Seamus O'Toole has vaulted from relative obscurity 
to heady heights of acclaim (including an Oscar nomin 
tion at presstime) by virtue of his authentically enigmatic 
title portrayal. Critics tempted to view the actor's incan- 
descent performance as a lucky flash in the Panavision 
should be apprised that Peter O'Toole has prepped lor 

and well for his rendezvous with fame: following scholar 
ship study at the prestigious Royal Academy of Dramatic 
Art, he signed on with опе of England's top repertory com- 
panies, the Bristol Old Vic, for a 34-year apprenticeship in 
73 different parts. At the time of his role call for Lawrence he 
was playing three leads by turns at the Shakespeare Theater 
at Stratford-on-Avon, the youngest (27) actor ever to star 
in а playhouse that has echoed to the classic sonorities of 
Olivier and Gielgud. The son of a Dublin bookie, O"Toole 
exudes cock-ofthe-walk confidence and mercurial Celtic 
charm —but the arduous two years on location as Lawrence 
have diluted his fondness for hellraising drinking bouts, 
and honed his volatile energies into a fierce devotion to 
his craft. The lean and leonine actor has selected Becket 
as his next film; he is currently in. London playing Baal 
in Brecht’s Baal (hence the beard above), happy to be on- 
stage again: “To me, it's like going back to the well. I 
spent seven years learning how to draw water from that 
well, and I don't ever want to forget it.” Safe bet: he won't. 


PHILIP ROTH young man with a scorn 


TO THE мозг DEDICATED of his disciples — and they run into 
the tens of thousands — Philip Roth stands alone 
spokesman for that segment of our generation that is not 
only lost and disenchanted, but doomed to conformity as 
well. And Roth, often with scorn but always with percep- 
tion, speaks so cloquently for this fragment that he has 
become perhaps the most acclaimed and decorated youn 

novelist of his time. At 29 he already has won the National 
Book Award (in 1960 for Goodbye, Columbus, a short 
story collection), Guggenheim Fellowship, a grant from 
the ional Institute of Arts and Letters, the Houghton 
Mifflin and the Aga Khan prize for fiction: while 
the New York Herald Tribune, in a review of Letting Go, 
his second book and bestselling first novel, observed that 
“If a major writer is опе who brings extraordinary and 
ated skills to the consideration of vital questions, 
then Philip Roth is a major writer Newark, N. J. 
and educated at Bucknell and the University of Chicago. 
Roth taught at Chicago and at the Towa Writers Wor 
shop, lived in Rome and now (with wife and two ch 
dren) makes his home in Princeton, N. J., where he holds 
а writerin-residence chair and lives a life that is insular, 
reflective and almost. reclusiv There the writer almost 
obscures the man. His family, his home, even his person 
ality seem all but overwhelmed by his work. But in every 
man's writing, Carlyle has said, lies the core of the man 
And perhaps it is here that the grapes of Roth are stored 


sa 


var 


LEWIS B. MAYTAG, JR. boom over miami 


Y. Stock Ex- 


AMID THE sap final listings on the 1962 N. 
change, one corporation stood out as a model of fiscal 
fitness — National Airlines, whose shares increased 77 per- 
cent over their 1961 value, a robust gain unequaled in the 
market. Chief reason for the rise: National's lean, 36-year- 
old president, Lewis B. Maytag, Jr. A scion of the washing- 
machine clan, Maytag spurned a safe berth in the family 

m ("The business was too slow and well-run — I p 
ferred to make my own way"), founded Maytag А 
Corp. (а contract fueling operation) at 22; the Mayt 

mick Co. (a manufacturer of aircraft components) 

s Frontier Air Lin 

adicating red ink, tui 
мо a profitable опе. The 


1962 with the $6,100,000 
purchase of 11 percent of Miami-based Nation: i 
line which had lost money three of its last five уса 

ag Midas touch was soon helping to dissolve the 
nal debt; within a yi i шей a revivify- 
$51,000,000 refi; m, added muscle to its 


an all. jet ca 
in manner, "Bud" Maytag pinpoints the source of his 
utive success as "the ability to choose able subordinates and 
to de thority. If I tried to run a one-man show I'd 
mirc my 1 deta nd 1 don't like to be slowed down," 


129 


PLAYBOY 


TIE THAT BINDS 


never had any sexual intercourse. Out- 
side of the football team and the basket- 
ball team, there were only a few going 
steady who were getting any. That was 
what was so crazy. Because two years ago, 
опе summer, every kid in town was sud- 
denly vitally interested in sexu 
course. Every kid in town. It 
know, like a fad.” 

“Oh, you mean like seeing how many 


tly. That's exactly right, Mister 
т. Once I remember one summer 
cvery kid in town dycd his hair red. I 
don't remember why now, but they 
Well, a lot of guys really didn't want 
red hair, but they did it because every- 
body else was. It was the same with 
sexual intercourse two summers ago. Even 
kids who were too young were trying.” 
“And that was when it happened? 
Stud sighed. “Yeah. These kids came 
by my house about five o'clock one after- 
noon. They had some beer and whiskey 
and some steaks. They wanted to use our 
cabin down at the lake. My mother 
didn’t care as long as they didn't get so 
drunk they burned it down. My girl was 
in Spokane that week, visiting, so 1 went 
down with the kids. I wasn't looking for 
anything, you understand, I just didn’t 
want them to burn down the cabin. Any- 
way, about 11 o'clock that night there 
wasn't anybody still in swimming except 
me and Mary Sarah. We were just kind 
of wading around there because we'd had 
quite a bit to drink. She kept looking at 
me in this silly, goofy way so I pulled 
her bathing suit off while we were still 
in the water. It was kind of muddy right 
there, on the bank. But I didu't rape her 
or anything, because she never said stop. 
She just said ‘Oh! a couple of times be- 
cause she'd never done it before. Well, 
the end of that week my girl came back 
from Spokane and I never had any more 
sexual intercourse with her — with Mary 
Sarah, I mean — after that one week.” 
find out? She didn’t 


“How'd Ramse 
tell him?” 


“Oh, hell no. We were playing poker 
I'ma 


Saturday night in Gold's room. 
talking poker pl G 
about clamping it to some old 
cause you start talking about si 


around 
here and half these guys lose their minds. 


I said something like, ‘I had this little 
gal once, she was so little I just grabbed 
her and I said to her, Mary Sarah —* 
It just slipped out. Well, Byron’s face 
got white and he left the room. So I 
quit, too, and came in here. Byron said 
something about no gentleman ever men- 
Then he hit me with a 
sed way like he didn't 
Then he got drunk. He 


chair in a hal 
really mean it. 


130 got drunk Sunday night, too, and Mon- 


(continued from page 76) 


day. This is the first time in the after- 
noon." 

Morrison walked to the window. It 
was a leaded-glass window, of the case- 
ype. “Does he have a class now?” 

“Chem lab's all.” 

“On your way to football practice stop 
at the Jab and tell Johnstone that Ram- 
sey is doing something for me.” 

“You're not going to tell the Head, 
Mister Morrison? 

“No. Drinking is hardly the problem. 
And all I've ever heard the Head say 
about sex is that a boy should think 
clean.’ 
xd pulled on a pair of chinos 
thrust his feet into some broke 
loafers. He was grinning. "You're OK, 
Mister Morrison. You really arc. You're 
one of the good guys in the white hats, 
buddy.” 

“Don’t call me buddy," Morrison sa 
“T detest that. 

After Tatum had left, Morrison made 

n the hall nor com- 
ing up the stairs. He dung Ramsey over 
his shoulder and, carrying the vodka 
bottle in his free hand, took him down 
the hall to his rooms: sitting room, small 
cell-like bedroom and a bath. He turned 
the shower on cold, stripped Ramsey and 
dumped him on the floor of the shower 
stall. Then he went back to the sitting 
room to make coffee in a Silex. Morrison 
knew the risk he was taking. If someone 
banged long and loud enough on his 
door he would have to open it. Then 
what would he say if Ramsey should sud- 
аспу stagger into view 
and half dı 
him a shows 
rison knew what the H 
about that, about his not reporting Ram- 
sey drunk. The Head would simply fire 
him. 

It had not been very long since Mor- 
rison had been an undergraduate, 
more than once he had been misti 
by visiting parents for one of the school's 
students. That was partly due to the way 
everyone usually dressed: buttondown 
collar, odd jacket and flannels. But it was 
his first full-time teaching job, and al- 
though he did not want to teach forev 
neither did he want to be fired. Tead 
ing, for Morrison, was something like 
living with the Indian girl that s 
a thing a man did once, not forever. His 
plans were to get his Ph.D. and then go 
into industry; he thought he could rise 
to the top of the heap faster that wa 
And while he was aware that getting 
fired from any job had never helped 
anyone, he thought that Ramsey and the 
principle involved were worth the risk. 

Morrison had liked Ramsey from the 
moment he had become aware of him. 
The very first weck Morrison had been 
at the school he had been in charge of 


-down 


certain no one was 


to sober h 


mmer: 


study prriod. Two boys at the long 


pered, argument 
the first thing the Buddha said when he 
arose from his period of meditation un- 
der the bo tree, One of the boys appealed 
to Ramsey, who was quietly working on 
a theme concerning the humorous news- 
paper writings of Petroleum. V. Nasby. 
“Hey, Byron. Byron. What was the very 
first thing Buddha said after he got up 
from that goddamn tree? After his god- 
damn htenment. What'd he say? 
You know? 
азсу had looked up from his note- 

“Lets send out for Chinese 
^ hc had suggested. 

Morrison had heard a great deal of 
student nonsense in his time— his time 
had begun precisely on August 17, 1937, 
at 12 minutes before midnight — but 
that remark of Ramsey's had stuck with 
bim. 

But the rcal risk in talking to Ramscy 
was Ramsey himself. There was no more 
explosive a subject than sex, and nothing 
so sacred as a boy's virginity — especially 
in a boys’ school. A great number of boys 
were virgins, of course, but none of them 
admitted it. The party line was that 
quite early in lile, about the age of three, 
cach boy had lost his innocence to his 
French nurse and since then had done 


little else but intercourse 
with a variety of beautiful and exotic 
partners: Scandinavian or Japanese 


housemaids. governesses from Bavaria, 
octoroons recently arrived. from N'Or- 
Jeans. Charming, but far from true. And 
Morrison knew that in talking to Ram- 
sey about sex he might strike a raw 
nerve and then anything could happen — 
cven hostility that would send Ramscy 
marching to the Head for sweet revenge. 

Morrison finished making coffee in the 
Silex just as Ramsey began to make 
drowning sounds in the shower. Morrison 
walked to the bathroom door. “Well, 
how do you feel?” 

“Oh, ginger dandy, sir," Ramsey said, 
and crawled across the floor and made 
vomiting noises in the toilet: it was im- 
possible to tell if he was really ill or only 
joking. 

Morrison tossed him a towel. “Dry 
yourself. Then come in. I made some 
coffee.” He walked back to the sitting 
room. In a moment Ramsey came in; he 
had one towel around his waist, a second 
over his shoulders and a third over his 
head so that his face could not be seen; 
he was shaking with cold and nausea, 
Morrison got a bottle of Courvoisier 
from a closet and poured some in the 
coffee cups. "Drink that,” he said. “ICH 
seule your stomach." He sat down on 
the sofa and lighted a cigarette. "What 
the hell getting so sloshed 
on a Tuesday afternoon?” 

“Oh, I'm probably just passing through 

(continued on page 134) 


е you doi 


more excellent 


THE TWO MAJOR CAUSES of unhappiness 
in marriage are sex and money. 

Sex will no longer be a problem to 
those who follow carefully the rules in 
our carlier chapters. And luckily, money 
problems can be solved just as casily. 
Learn these simple directions and you 
will laugh at money worri 


SHOULD HANDLE THE MONEY 
IN OUR HOME? 


Many m "Should I handle 
moncy in our home?" It is not a ques 
that can be answered with а simple 
o 


yes 


no. 

First let us establish some principles: 

1. Women have no interest in moncy 
itself. Matters of finance confuse and 
bore them. They are interested only in 
the things money can buy. 

2. Women are penny-wise and pound- 
foolish. They do not think it extrava- 
gant, Гог example, to keep а baby sitter 
two extra T 


hours at 75 cents an hour 
while they shop around to save 50 
cents 


Women will accept responsibility 
only if it is thrust upon them. Thrust 
it properly, 
surprise yo 

Returning to our questioi 
fe to state this primary rule 

The wife should be allowed to handle 
the money as long as there isn't. quite 
enough to go around. 

This means that your marriage will 
probably fall into two sharply defined 
financial periods. 


however, and they may 


then, it 


THE EARLY OR LOW-MONEY PERIOD 


During this stage it is best to be as 
openhanded as possible. Give her your 
pay check. 


“It's all yours, pet, every cent! 
Just holding out enough for carfare 
and cigarewes.” 
“But Davie, we're going 
hole five dollars a week as 
“ГИ leave it all up to you, Phocbt 
You're the treasurer!” 


If at first she shies away from this re. 
‘ibility, must thrust it upon 
In every marriage one partner must 
y about money. During this period 


you 


sp 
he 
wor 


advice on how to 


make sure she is the one. 

Instill this early. Establish yourself 
as an openhearted boy, lovable but 
slightly irresponsible. 


“Let me go to the grocery store, 
Phoeb!” 
Are you fecling all right, Р; 
Just give me the shopping list 
—and the money, of course. 


"Be careful, dear, it's our 
seven dollars.” 
You know me, pet, I'll squeeze 


every kel!” 


Come back half-an-hour later with a 


huge box of longstemmed roses. And а 
jar of peanut butter. 
“For you, princess! Couldn't resist 


them! They reached out and grabbed 
me with their thorny little hands! 
"Oh. Davie, how sweet!" 
(Let her have her moment of ec- 
slasy.) 
And I brought you this, too!“ 
(Give her the peanut butter.) 
"David, how much were 


the 


fifty, to be exact! 
But they were worth it 


Four or five days of peanut butter 
sandwiches will do her uo harm, and 
they will teach her a valuable lessoi 
She will be learning about money. 

If you need to keep your strength 
during this period. eat hearty lunches 
on the expense account. 

Soon she will become a good manager. 


THE LATER, MORE ТАУ 


Н YEARS 


Later on, when money is more plenti- 
ful, it should always be handled by the 
husband. At this stage be careful to es- 
blish the difference between petty cash, 
which will still be her province, and 
Moncy, which is yours. 

There are several good ways to bring 
this off. 

Be an Investor. You must either be an 


"HOW" with women without really trying 


avestor, or seem to be one. Make it dear 
that moncy works for you, and ma 
more money. This in itself is a concept 
that baffles most women, and will baffle 
your wile, Keep her baffled. If you are 
totally ignorant of finance, spend five 
minutes with a broker. He will give you 
enough terms to last you a lifetime. 


“But Davie, what about the food 
money?" 

“You'll get it, Phocb. Temporarily 
strapped by these longterm deben- 
tures.” 

“The what?" 

“Debentures, pet. I could sell 
them, but it would put us in a short- 
term categor 

TR don't mind, David. Let's be in 
a short-term. category for a while, 
whatever it i 

(The girl with spirit will struggle 
a bit.) 

“You're sw (Pat her on the 
head.) “I'd put us in an impossible 
tax situation. Might wipe out every 
th 


She will be happy, secure in the knowl- 
edge that your affairs good hands. 
And of course you will have control of 
all the real money. Give her cnough to 
set a good table, though. А well-nour- 
shed wife is a healthy, hard-working 
wile. 

Remember Your Taxes. The married 
тап, like all men, must pay taxes. Un- 
pleasant though this may be, you will 
find that taxes give you another dear 
mandate to handle the big money. 

The amount you actually pay is of 
small importance, compared with what 
you seem to pay. 


Jow about money, David. Don't 
tell me you bought some new deben- 
tures, or something. We've got 
plenty of debentures. What we need 
5 
“Phoeb, I wish I could invest 
more, but | can't. Just this 
ng | sent off a tux check. 
d us out, utterly!" 
ou did that last w 
“That was the third installm 
on the State 1 Гах. This 


the amended declaration on the 


some 


ome 


131 


PLAYBOY 


132 


timated Federal, and —“ 

“1 thought that was the week be- 
fore.” - 

“No, pet, that was City— the 
sewer rental and water tax and the 
compensating use tax.” 


It is safe to assume that no won 
ever u 
ion. You w 
yourself. 

What About Charge Accounts? Many 
ask, "How can I avoid letting my wife 
have charge accounts?” This is a selfish 
point of view. The answer of course is 
— let her have them! 

A charge account at the hardware 
store, the meat market and the grocery 
can do little harm, will reduce unneces- 

ary handling of cash, and will make it 

ier to return unwanted merchandise. 
It is primarily accounts at clothing 
stores that are really dangerous. We wi 
cover this situation next month. 

Avoid the Joint Checking Account. 
Маке your wife self-reliant. Let her have 
her own checking account, with 
controllable balance. Do not let her par- 
te jointly in the big account or 
will soon get out of hand 

If she insists, ict her use the big ac- 
count for a trial period. During this 
time, conduct a few simple financial 
manipulations. 


derstand your entire tax sit 
1 scarcely understand it 


“David. the P. Boutique 
said my check w ood!” 
“Oh? 


(Pretend innocence and shocked 
surprise.) 

“And so did the Beuie Jane 
Shoppe.” 
hought | left a few dollars in 
the account. Did withdraw a thou- 
sand to cover the Continental Com- 
mon.” 

“But there was only a thous 
and three dollars in it!” 

"Really? Must have slipped my 
mind. TH fix it up after the first of 
the month." 


nd 


A few lessons like this and she'll be a 
new woman, happy to have а small ac- 
count of her own. 


MONEY ISN'T EvERYTI 


© 


Though it is important, as we have 
seen, to maintain a certain vigilance in 
maners of finance, the wise husband 
izes that money isn't everything. 
Pin these words in your wallet: If you 
ve money, get the most out of it. IE 


wi 


ha 
you do not, let your wife get the most 


out of it. 

"The two of you, striding together, will 
march ahead — free of money worties— 
to a fuller, more joyful life. 

NEXT MONTH: “HOW TO SAVE MONEY 

ON YOUR WIFE'S CLOTHING” 


CHINESE FARE 


(continued [rom page 94) 
PORK BALLS WITH CRAB MEAT 
(Serves four) 


1 ID. boneless pork loin 
014-02. can crab meat 
5-oz. can water chestnuts, drained 
2 tablespoon 
g. beaten 

& teaspoon garlic powder 
| een secime oil 
1% teaspoon ground cloves 
Salt, pepper, monosodium glutamate 
3 packets instant chicken bouillon 
2 tablespoons peanut oil 
6 tablespoons comstarch 
1 
2 


teaspoon soy sauce 
cups fresh fennel, sliced 14. 
3 scallions. thinly sliced 

Put pork and water chestnuts through 
meat grinder twice, using fine blade, Add 
farina, egg, garlic powder, sesame oil, 
cloves, 1 teaspoon salt, 14 teaspoon pep- 
per and 14 teaspoon monosodium gluta- 
mate. Mix well. Shape into balls 1 in. 
ameter. In a wide saucepan or Dutch 
ing 3 cups water to a boil. Add 
instant. bouillon. Drop pork balls into 
broth. When pork balls rise to top, cover 
pan with lid and simmer 8 minutes. Set 
Remove any cartilage or pieces of 
shell from crab meat. Separate into Large 
flakes. Heat peanut ой in saucepan. Add 
crab meat and sauté over low flame about 
3 minutes. Add broth in which pork balls 
were cooked. When broth boils, mix 

cornstarch with v4 cup cold water to 
smooth paste. Slowly add to crab-meat 
mixture. Add soy sauce and salt, pepper 
and monosodium glutamate to taste. Add 
pork balls and fennel. Cook. only until 
fennel is heated through. Stir in scallions. 


thick 


MANDARIN DUCK 
(Serves four) 

4b, duckling 

11-oz. сап mandarin orange segments, 
drained 

Á cup soy sauce 

2 tablespoons brown s 

2 tablespoons rice wi 

% teaspoon cinnamon 

2 tablespoons peanut oil 

3 tablespoons onion. minced 

1 clove garlic, minced 

teaspoon fresh gi 

cups chicken broth 

1 teaspoon soy sauce 


т 
e or sherry 


root, minced 


14 teaspoon sesame oil 
14 cup cornstarch 

50% can bamboo shoots, drained 
50% can water chestnuts, drained and 


sliced thin 
1 cup diced celery cabbage 

Salt, pepper, monosodium glut 
Place duckling breast side up on a wire 
covered roasting pan. Roast 
in oven preheated to 350° about 214 
hours or until duckling is golden brown 
and very tender. Drain olt fat from time 


to time duri ig to prevent smok 
ing. When duckling is hall cooked, mix 
14 cup soy sauce with brown sugar, rice 
wine and cinnamon, Brush duckling 
about every 20 minutes with soysaucc 
mixture. When ducklir 
meat from bones 
crosswise slices. Heat pe 
large saucepan. Sauté onion, garlic and 
gingerroot until onion is barely yellow. 
Add chicken broth, soy sauce and sesame 
oil. Bring to а boil. Mix cornstarch and 
14 cup cold water to a smooth paste and 
slowly add to chicken broth. Add duck- 
amboo shoots water chestnuts, 
orange segments and celery 
on to taste with salt, pepper 
and monosodium glutamate. Cook only 
until vegetables аге heated through, 


nd cu 


CHICKEN WITH rı 


(Serves four) 


3 whole breasts of chicken, boned 

2014-02. can pineapple chunks 

4% % can blanched almonds 

3 tablespoons pe: 

3 tablespoons onion, minced 

1 dove garlic, minced 

1 cup chicken broth 

14 cup cornstarch 

5-oz. can water chestnuts, dra 

sliced 

1 teaspoon soy sau 

14 teaspoon sesame oil 

14 teaspoon ground cinnamon 

Salt, pepper, monosodium glutamate 

Place almonds in shallow pan in oven 
preheated to 350° for 10 to 12 minutes 
or until almonds are brown. Avoid 
scorching. Drain pineapple chunks, 1 
serving Y4 cup juice. Remove skin hom 
chicken. Cut cach chicken breast in hall 
lengthwise, then cut crosswi 
thick slices. Heat peanut oil in 
skillet preheated to 300°. Sauté chicken 5 
minutes, stirring frequently. Place lid on 
skillet and cook 8 to 10 minutes longer 
Sprinkle onion and garlic into pan. 
Sauté a minute or two longer. Add 
chicken broth and V4 cup reserved pine- 
apple juice. Bring to a boil. Mix corn- 
starch with 14 cup cold water to a smooth 
paste and slowly add to pan. Add pine 
apple chunks. water chestnuts, soy sauce, 
sesame oil, cinnamon and almonds. Sea- 
son to taste with salt, pepper and mono- 
sodium glutamate. 

In delineating the attributes of a Great 
Man, the esteemed Confucius included 
these gourmandia] traits: "He does not 
eat what is too ripe or too green. He does 
not cat what has not been properly cut. 
He does not eat without the proper sauc 
Although the meat may be abi 
does not eat more of it than he docs of 
the vegetables. He does not restrict the 
amount of his wine, but he does not let 
it befuddle him." As in most things, Con- 
fucius knew what he was talking about. 


APPLE 


ied and 


e into 1 in 


electric 


dant, he 


IF T LOOK 
AT A0 
uou MAY 
Nor 
TURN 
бт 10 
ВЕ THE 
you I 
THK 
"DU ARE. 


AS LONG 
ASÍ 

DONT LOOK, 
I WANT 
You HORE 
THAN 
WORDS 
CAN TELL. 


YOU MAU 
TURN OUT 


PERHAPS 

THERE'S 
A WAY 
To 
WERT 
Ir 


133 


PLAYBOY 


134 forever sexual intercourse. 


TIE THAT BINDS 


a phase,” Ramsey said from behind the 
towel hanging over his face. 

No. I don't think so," Morrison said. 
“I think the trouble with you is that two 
years ago Stud Tatum had your girl and 
you're helpless to change the past. Listen, 
you ever get a chance sometime, look 
to The Great Gatsby. Its а novel by 
an American writer, F. Scott Fitzgerald." 

Ramsey jerked the towel off his head. 
“That's a sadistic goddamn thing to say! 
‘ou sober me up just to torture me?” 
Morrison clasped his hands behind his 
head. "No, I sobered you up so that I 
could say out loud to you, in privacy, 
that / know Stud Tatum gave Mary 
Sarah Butler the time, as he puts it. So 
now you no longer have any drcadful 
secret, do you? 1 sobered you up because 
1 wanted to point out one fact — she 
wanted to do it with him at that timc. 
You've got a good mind, Ramsey, but 
you have not learned the first great les- 
son. which is the sexual intercourse les- 
son. Its got several interesting facets, 
nd as we sit here this afternoon, shak- 
ing with nausea over our brandy and 
coffee, we're going to explore them.” 

Ramsey took a cigarette from the box 
on the table; his fingers were trembi 
Look, Mister Morrison. All I ever meant 
about the whole deal was that a gentle- 
man never says any names. I guess if a 
couple friend: nt to have a 
sex life, that’s their business. But you 
just don't go telling everybody's name 
all over the pl 
"Oh, that’s crap and you know it" 
d. That has nothing to do 
y you feel. Right this minute 
you'd like to murder Tatum." 

Ramsey put the towel over his head 

gain, hiding his face. 

"Well, fortunately you can't murder 
Stud. Because if you did you'd be 
dering yourself. You'd be killing the 
Tatum that is inside you. The Stud 
tum that is, in fact, you. 

Ramsey raised the edge of the towel 


with the w: 


nd looked out. “I don't get it," he said 
simply. 
“You think Stud is crude. As far as sex 


is concerned. He's not, but he is direct. 
In one sense Stud is pure s 
But you are also sc 
If you kill Stud and I doi 
physically, but kill his image in 
heart with your hatred — then you have 
destroyed your own sexual energy, your 
own sexual self. 

"I'm not like that sonofabitch,” Ram- 
sey said shortly, and dropped the towel 
over his face. “If I was like that sonofa- 
bitch I'd go live in à cave or have my- 
self sterilized.” 

“Ramsey, the first great lesson is the 
sexual intercourse lesson. And part one 
this: there is always and eternally and 
. There is 


(continued from page 130) 


ual intercourse in time of war, during 
plagues and pestilences. There is sexual 
intercourse in times of famine, somethin 
that may be the last act of a human be 
ng. Lam not saying it is pleasant. I am 
not ing that 1, or you, would prefer it 
that way. No one would. But it is the 
rgy on which the human race 
moves. 1—5 the basic expression of our 
most vital energy. We copulate without 
reasons, Ramsey. We simply copulate, 
always and foreve 
“Well, we sound like a bunch of copu- 
lating nuts to me," Ramsey said from 
behind the towel. 
"Of course we arc!" Morrison said. 
"Thats one of the things I'm trying to 
tell you. To a man of a certain kind of 
intelligence’ — and I put that in quotes 
— we do seem like nothing so much as 
madly driven, den, copulating 
maniacs. "Why copulate? you ask, bc- 
ise you have not caught the scent of 
perfume, nor have you yet heard the 
sound of violins. "Why the hell not? Stud 
Tatum says, grinning up at you from the 
muddy bank of the like where he is 
copulating with Mary Sarah Butler, and 
he continues copulating. 
fou tell him he copulates and he 
ight hit you for insulting him. He'd 
have to look it up. 
You think you're a finer person than 
Stud is, don't you? You've d The 
Making of Americans all the way through, 
a thing such an enlightened human be- 
ing as Edmund Wilson hasn't donc. You 
think you're better than Stud because of 
it. But you aren't. In this little triangle, 
Ramsey, you are the one who is wrong. 
Two people whom you know now had 
sexual intercourse in the past. So how 
do you feel? You want to murder one 
of them, and you can't understand 
the other. Really, what the hell kind of 
human being arc you? If everybody was 
like you there wouldn't be a human race." 
"They can keep their goddamn human 
race," Ramsey said from 
towel. “TIL go live with the 
“Oh, will you? And what will you do 
when the animals come in heat — avert 
your gaze?" Morrison suddenly took 
Ramsey's shoulder and shook hi "Lis 
ten to me, damn you. I'm trying to tell 
you something. Sex e doesn't 
happen in a vacuum. It is had at cer 
times and in certain places. It is colored 
and conditioned by time and place. The 
old man in the cave had any of the fe- 
les until he got too old to fight. Cleo- 
patra married her younger brother. 
Think for a moment about adolescence 
on Samoa, or growing up on Tahi 
"What island is vastly different from the 
island of. Manhatta 
isn't i? How is m; 
of Manhattan? 15 
"There м 


ual intercou 


n for an adolescent, 


behind the towel, Ramsey said, "Well, 
it’s pretty grim, actually, I mean, for a 
guy whos too young to go to a hotel. 
‘The problem is always to find a place. 
When youre home from school, like 

amas, you're always hunting an 
ment that's empty. But the trouble 
1 somebody'll walk 


in. I had a m 
I had the girl's brassiére unfastened and 
everytl nd the maid walked in. 
Boy, she was nasty. But I gave her $20 
and she shut up. My last $20. Jesus, I 
жаз scared.” 

Morrison lighted a cigarette. “You 
don't drive 

A car, you mean? How would I learn 
to drive a car? My father always puts his 
in storage in the winter. Summers we 
go to my grandmother's. She's got an is- 
land off the Maine coast. I know that 
sounds like a big deal, but it’s just an 
island with a farm on it, and this Portu- 
guese or Negro family or some kind of 
mixture. grandmother's very old- 
fashioned. She doesn't even have any 
electricity, she hates gasoline en- 
gines. There isn't one gasoline engine 
on that entire island, not even in the 
beats. You want to go to the mainland 
you sail over, or row. If you want to 
go somewhere on the island you walk 
or take the carriage or the dog 

“How about making out on the is- 
land? Is it difficult? 

“There's nobody there but my grand- 
mother, Mister Morrison. You recom- 
mend guys making out with their 
grandmothers?” 

You said there w: 


a Portuguese or 


Ramsey took a deep 
h and let it out, making the towel 
puff ош. "Well, they have one daughte 
about 16. She's got very white skin. 
She's whiter than / am, I know god- 
damn well, yet she's supposed to be one 
of those mixtures or something. Anyway, 
when we were little kids we'd play to- 
gether. She'd let me look at hers and 
T'd show her mine. You know how little 
kids are. I don't know if she remembers 
or not. People аге supposed to forget all 
that when they get older. But last sum- 
mer 1 seriously thought about hav 
sexual intercourse with Rita, that girl. 
But she's kind of a servant. I mean, her 
parents work for my grandmother.” 

“That stopped you?" 

“Oh, not because she was a servant. I 
meant because of the relationship with 
my grandmother, she might think she 
had to if I wanted to. I me 
might be afraid or someth 
don't go for that lorc 
So I stopped thinking about her 
а few push-ups in m: 
“Well, if you lived in Wyoming you'd 
now how to drive a car,” Morrison said. 
There was more silence from behind 
the towel; then, "You mean I'd get my 


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driver's license and my sexual license at 
the same time?" 

Morrison leaned forward and rested 
his arms on his knees. “You don’t have 
any idea what life is like in a small 
town. There's always a country club, 
and the best people belong. The club 
is for adults, but once a month possibly 
they will have a dance for young people. 
In summer, when school is not in session, 
that is all the social life there is, except 
for two other institutions, the drive-in 
movie and the Dairy Queen. If a girl 
has а date she will usually be taken to 
the drive-in movie and then to the 
Dairy Queen where she will be fed a 
concoction known as soft ice cream. And 
that is life in a small town, in summer, 
It can. be. extremely dull." 

Ramsey took the towel off his head; 
his face had the puckered, intense ex- 
pression it sometimes got in class when 
he seemed to be concentrating. 

But there is one other thing two 
young people can do. They can drive 
out somewhere and park. Usually there 
is a lake, or perhaps a hill where they 
can sec the moon rise. They can be 
alone and indulge in sex pla not 
tercourse. It’s the great American game, 
Ramsay, seeing how far a girl will go. 
Part of our myth, our American myth, 
is that there is more sex in small towns 
than in citiescamong young people, that 
is. That's myth, as I say, as witness all 
tho travelingsalesman jokes. But there 
is some truth in it. A girl will go prety 
far, if not all the way, simply because 
there is nothing else to do. 
And, after all, how many driv 
can one see? How much soft ice cream 
сап one cat? The answer lies, I think, 
partly in boredom and partly in natural 
curiosity. A girl wonders, too, how does 
it feel. The only way she can know is 
through her own experience. And, being 
bored, she turns her exploration rd, 
into herself. Nothing could be more 
huma 

Ramsey shook his head. "No. I'll never 
believe that. Why, you make people 
a bunch of moronic sheep.” 
wish 1 could get 
Morrison said. "Listen, 
mportant thing here, the 
nt thing, is not sex at all. 
It is your feeling about sex that's im- 
portant. Your feeling is not good. Your 
feeling about sex stands between you 
and your intelligence — it stands between 
you and your own true self. And where 
you are going to be hurt is not in the 
department. But you are going 

i and grievously 
re. 


ou to 


Because when you hear these 
lines~'It is a tale told by an idiot, full 
of sound and fury, signifying nothing — 
when the future you hear that you will 


136 probably either feel a tendency to weep 


or you will pull back sharply from the 
abyss of life in horror. And Shakespeare 
never meant you nor any human being to 
feel that way. Another English writer un- 
derstood that. He took the same idea, 
the one in those lines, and wrote a great 
book. He did not weep, nor did he pull 
back from the abyss. He understood, and 
in his turn he wrote Through the Look- 
ing Glass.“ 

"There was а long silence while Ramsey 
picked thoughtfully at a piece of cigarette 
paper stuck to the chapped skin on his 
lower lip. “Listen, Mister Morrison, 1 
don’t want you to think 1 don't appre- 
ciate your keeping me from getting 
kicked out of this institution. 1 always 
make such good marks it would've prob- 
ably put my mother into nervous col- 
lapse. But I can't accept that boredom 
thing. You see, my girl —" Ramsey took 
a deep breath. "My girl would never do 
it because she was just bored. So I can't 
cept that, what you say.” 

Morrison was angry with himself; he 
felt he should have been able to com- 
municate by talking. "Listen, Ramsey. 
The next time you get drunk do so joy: 
fully and with a happy heart. Now get 
dressed. You still make part of that 


Alter Ramsey left, Morrison poured a 
second cup of brandy and coffee and sat 
for several minutes, thinking. Then he 
picked up a telephone from а small table 
and dialed a number. When a voice on 
the other end answered he said, “This is 
Jacoby Morrison. I'm one of the masters, 
over on the hill. I want to speak to Miss 
Selma Parker. I'll hold or 

He had to wait several minutes before 
Selma Parker's voice said, “Jacoby Mon 
son? It sounds like something falling 
down the stairs." 

Morrison was certai 
t somewhere, t 
with hei d she sounded 
cheerful. small 
problem with one of my students that 
has some tangential effect on your inst 
tution. I wonder if we could discuss it 
"| do not like problems, she said 
immediately. "Especially those with ta 
gential effects.” 

"Oh. we can solve it in а few mo- 
ments of conversation.” 

“What is it, then?” 

“I didn't mean over the phone. 1 
meant in person." 

There w 
have a problem 

He made his voice cool, “Bel 
Miss Parker, I would never h 
you otherwise.” 

“Then forgive me. But in the past, 
especially among English instructors, 1 
have encountered any number of slithy 
toves. Can you be here at four? I will 
have 10 minutes free then.” 

Morrison put the phone back on the 
table and felt in his jacket pocket for 


1 that he had read 


not origi 


pause. "Do you really 


eve me, 
© phoned 


keys to his Volkswagen. Oh, that cool 
bitch, he was thinking: get her in bed 
and she wouldn't have orgasms, she'd 
produce a whole series of ice cubes | 
a refrigerator. He went down the stai 

Morrison had known when he had 
taken the job at the school that, except 
for an infrequent weekend in New York, 
he would have to face the problem of 
the long cold New England winter alone. 
Prep school instructors were all men, of 
course, and most of them were married, 
And they dung together, socially, like 
a colony of idiot ants and only called 
upon the bachelor instructors when they 
needed an extra тап, 

Twice during the first semester, on 
separate weekends, Morrison had been 
called upon. Each im n had been 
issued so that he had no doubt he was 
being presented with a white female 
body and that he should be appro- 
priately grateful. The first girl һай been 
someone's de: nd from Provi- 
dence, amd Morrison remembered her 
chiefly for what he thought of as the 
taste of the fillings in her teeth and her 
conversation as they stood on the brick 

tform Sunday evening awaiting her 
n, it’s not so far to Provi- 
dence, and you got that nice little car. 
And there's that little inn, too, you know, 
in the village. I mean, I could come on 
Saturdays. We could have Saturday 
nights.” 

The second girl had been older than 
Morrison and married; she had been 
somebody's married sister. When "Mor- 
ison had entered the house for dinner 
that Friday night he had been told 
quietly that Catherine already had a 
litle head start on everyone els 
Catherine had, too. About the time the 
steak was be the charcoals 


sed out in a 
sitting position with her pants comfort- 
ably around her ankles. But by midnight 
she had revived and kept insisting Mor- 
rison drive her someplace. "You know, 
hon, someplace like a golf course, where 
ivs d 

The experiences had only made Mor- 
e a friendly old hat 
rack in the hall onto which people flu 
things as they passed. Whe 
invitation was issued — she w 
Sorbonne, a brilliant girl who 
10 make up her mind about 
o — he declined. 

The only single fem 
met, other than Selma Parker, h. 
a young widow in the village. She was 
not striking looking, but she was both 
kind and gentle. Morrison had 
masculine p 
t they could worked ош 
nent" But that would have 
been consigning sex to a realm some- 
what like the med і world of the 


rison feel used, 


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“Then the little bee, his antennae heavy with pollen...” 


dietitian: for breakfast the healthy per 
son consumes six ounces of or: 
or half a grapefruit, and one e 
buttered toast. He simply did not w 

his sexual necds “taken care of” — where 
was individuality in that? And he could 
sce himself becoming а point on a curve 
ph: Morrison 
мі male, 28 per 


on some sociolo: 
Jacoby. Whi 
week. 
It was because the world of а private 
schoolteacher in that corner of Connect- 
icut was so limited that Morrison. was 
curious about Selma Parker. Dt seemed 
gill in her situation would enjoy 
а date, just a simple date, And 
one to Johustone, the chemis 
»structor, 10 ask him what he knew 
about Selma Parker. 

“You mean Miss Periodic Pain and 
Sullering of 1963?" Johnstone had said, 
since he considered himself to have а way 


so he had 
uy 


with à phrase. "Sure, | know her. Last 
year was her first year at Catton’s, She 
instructed. Bitch One, | believe. 
ps it was Na; open only 

is and above. I called her and 

"S go to a movie or have some 


beers or something in this wasteland. 
And she said back at me something like 
this: Thank you, Johnstone, but I have 
no interest other than school. | spend 
all my time here. 1 imd it quite cot 

genial’ A real genuine frost. You know 
what's going to happen to her? She's 
going to sit over there until it with 
adually throughout the 
years it will dehydrate and some autumn 
as she strolls across campus it will simply 


fall, as dry and brittle as last year's oak 
leal. The caretakers will rake it up. 
along with other dead leaves, and oh 


we will h come Hal- 


ve a jelly boni 
loween! Sic Гат hymena 
anus, or whatever the hell it is 

But Morrison was not cert; 
stone was right, that Selma Parker was 
dry and bookish. He thought there was 
a good deal more to her than that. 


ns Parker 


n John- 


Miss Catton's was quite austere look- 
ing, From the main road all that could 
be seen of the school was the borderi 
privet hedge and two brick columns 
the entrance to the drive. Only when 
Morrison turned the Volksw: 
the drive could he sce the mam build- 
ing, a threestoried, white Colonial with 
black shutters. It sat alone, on 
The other buildings were beyo 
knoll, on the downward slope, and they 
were mostly salt-bove id not look 
like a school, hut more like the summer 
residence, or country home, of a very 
large and wealthy fami 

Morrison left his car in 


the turn- 


around and knocked on the door with 
an authentic brass knocker, A maid let 
him in and took him along the dowi 


stairs hall to Miss Parker's office. It w. 
unlike any school olhice Morrison had 


ever есп: there were no typewriter, no 
binets, and по telephone visible. 
1 one long trestle table piled 
high with books and papers in sloppy 
female fashion, the room appeared to b 
infor tting room where ladies 
Hit meet to embroider and converse. 
А small fire of camel coal burned in a 
deal fireplace against the damp sp 
day and beside it. in a platform rocker 
Selma Parker sat with a knitting 1 
at her feet, She wore a cardigan, a tweed 
skirt with cnough fashionable bagginess 
10 identily п as а country skirt, and 
dull-polished loafers; it was a uniform, 
as Morrison's clothes were, There was 
no make-up on her face and her lovely 
hair he hetically twisted 
into an old maid's knot the back of 
her neck. As Morrison entered she took 
oll а pair of ugly horn-rims and held 
out her hand. 

“Thauk you for being prompt, Mor 
vison. 1 appreciate it.” 

It was then 0 Morrison felt he had 
an insight into her characte: 
detail was responsible for that, the type 
Tt was 
brassière that appeared not so much to 
be constructed along the lines of sound 
engineering principles, as it appeared to 
have been stitched by hand on the worn 
fingers of an old hall-blind French 
seamstress who had spent many ye 
of faithful service in the family. It did 
old breasts into exaggerated pride, 
it held them serenely in utter f: 
their own competence to deal w 
thir 
he 
only a lady would wear. бей 
was not cold, nor dry: she was simply a 
lady. 

L always have 


an 


1 been unsympa 


One trivial 


of brassière she was we 


not n 


cup of tea at u 


time, Morrison." she was saying. “1 hope 
you will, too." 
The maid had come in again and put 


а tea tray in front of a small sofa. Miss 
Parker sat and said, “Milk or lemon?” 
“1 don't suppose there's any rum," 
Morrison said. 
o, the only time anything alcoholic 
is allowed is just before the holidays, at 
Christmas. For the plum pudding, you 
know. But you may smoke in this room. 
Miss Catton doesnt mind that. Now. 
who is your student and what is hi 
problem? 
“Byron Ramsey is on 
“Oh, yes," Sel 
settled back on the sofa. 
cup in both hands. "He 
pleasant face and quite a cheerful, out- 
going manner, I think.” 


has such 


d. "You know 


"Oh, ye alled on one of the 
young ladies frequently on Sunday after 
noons Generally he telephones her in 
the evenings, betwe 
thirty when calls ai 


п seven and seven- 
e allowed, He writes 


her, too. Quite thick letters” She 
glanced at him and became aware of his 
expression, “Oh, don’t look like that. 
aven't been spying on them. If T 
idu't engaged him in conversation I'd 
have been failing in my duty. 1 know, 
for instance, that Byron will go to Yale 
because his futher did. The senior Ram- 
sey is a part aw fiim and when 
Byron finishes Yale he will go into the 
fim — which, as he says, won't be 
Now, is it so terrible 1 know th 
that sort? 

Morrison shook his head. 
this may come as a shock, 
ago Byron's. room 
Sud Tatum —" 

"Another cup, Morrison?" 

No, thank you. Two years ago Stud 
Tatum had sexual intercourse with M 
Sarah Butler, and Ramsey has learned 
of it 


"Miss Par 
but two years 
а boy named 


d is taking it rather badly." 
Selma Parker put dhe teacup down 
abruptly. as if it was too hot and she 


be- 


was afraid of dropping it. "I dor 
lieve 1 heard you correctly, Morriso 

“1 think you did,” he said. 

A bright spot of color appeared on 
cach of her checks, the only sign she was 
angry. “What utter nonsense. I am cer- 
tain such а thing never happened. Mor- 
tison, what ever possessed you to come 
here and tell me such an obvious un- 
truth?” 
o, i 
1 believe yo 
name is ‘Stud’ Tatum? 
and she put heavy е 
Really, Mon 


said the other student's 
Miss Parker said, 
phasis on the nick- 
ison, do you expect 
g lady in 
attendance at Miss Catton's would ha 
iything at all to do with anyone known 
as "Stud. 
“It happened two years ag 
Seln iled. “Oh, Morrison, 
you have simply pum mulled. ‘Stud’ Ta- 
tum. I believe 1 can picture what he 
must be like. He's one of your athletes, 
larger than most of the students, and a 
bully. Boys of that sort do like to h 
The п say that somethii 
hapy nothing really has. Some- 
es they do that out of cruelty, to get 
back at a girl who has refused them. Or 
they do it to attract attention, to look 
masculine in the eyes of other boys. Oh, 
Morrison, don't you realize you have 
simply been taken in by the boy's lying?” 

Morrison shook head. "No, Т 
know boys g about sex. 
And I think it might be proved. 

Oh, how could a thing be 
proved? 

"Well, 


has 


his 


when are hi 


such 


to begin with, you might have 
the young lady examined by a physician 
Morrison said mildly. 

Selma Parker gave him a look women 
generally reserve for men who rush first 
to the lifeboats. This conversation is 
ly out of hand. You said 


you wanted my help. What is it, exactly, 


139 


PLAYBOY 


us to get Byron and Mary 
ther, perhaps in this room. 
and encourage them to talk this thing 
out. 

Miss Parker stared at him а moment, 
and then she suddenly began t0 laugh. 
She laughed rather hard for a lady, and 
ended by dabbing at her eyes with a tiny 
ndkerchief she kept concealed some 
nity of the waistband of 
. "Oh, dear,” she said. “You are 


а moment. 
s of my- 
self. That is, I appear to you to be 
ass. Because you can say to me, what 
young girl who bas had sexual relations 
with a boy will sit down and talk about 
it with another boy who's 
her now, and with one of her instructors 
whose respect she desires, and me, a to 
stranger? The logical answer is that no 
young girl would do it, and consequently 
Lam absurd. But life is absurd, too, Miss 
Parker. It is absurd in its concepti 
Consider, if you will, the various hum: 


истеме“ 


acts and mechanisms that aid in the crea- 
tion of the human being. Now, really, 
what could be more absurd? We са 


even rise to the chievement of. 
the barnyard he lay one neat сөр. 
And the only way to deal with this prob- 
lem is through what seems to you now as 
absurdity.” 

“I will never permit what you suggest,” 


Selma Parker said. There was linality in 
her manner: somewhere steel doors had 
been slammed shut i ined. against 
unknown intruders out of the dark 
night. 

“May 1 speak to Miss Catton, then?” 
Morrison asked. 


"She is not here. She is in retreat.” 
“1 beg your pardon 
“I said she has gone to a retreat. 
e religious and she goes to a retre 
now and then to meditate. 
ked to the window and 
th his hands in his pockets. On 
the playing field. a group ol girls were 
engaged in a casual game of Hield hockey. 
None of them wore athletic Clothing, 
most of them bad on ғау Панне, 
Jamaic th shoris and sweaters. A 
t deal of giggling and horsing around 
oing on: they were not plying to 
„ but for fun. 

"You make me want to weep. you 
really do,” Morrison. said. He gestured 
at the field, “Who on God's carth could 
be cruel enough, sadistic enough, 10 ob- 
ject to their lide sex play? Why, it 
would be like puppies tumbling on a 
awn 

Their parents 
Selma Parker х 


She's 
t 


are sadistic enough. 
. She had rien from 
the sofa and she was standing behind 
him, slightly to onc side. “And they were 
not sent here to become happy, carefiec 

s. Most of them will be wives of 


very successful men 

“But, my God 
is an institution of lea 
АП I suggest is we talk.” 

“No, it is a finishing school,” Selma 
Parker |. "These 15 are not like 
girls who go to Bennington, for instance, 
and sit in their 


Morrison said. “This 
1g, isn't it? 


politics, you. understand — talk 
thing sometimes called ‘free love" 
whether they will do it, and wher 
under what circumstances. The only time 
sex is discussed here is in the biology 
laboratory when frogs are dissected and 
their reproductive systems studied. Th 
is never any other mention of se 
gitls do not discuss it among themselves. 

"Oh, come Morrison said. 
know 
You don't know these young tad 
They are vir 

Mor 
Parker.” 

Selma Parker s 


„ The 


on," 


down on the sofa aud 
took m a silver box. She 
smoked it slowly, inhaling deeply, in the 
т of one who allows herself only 
Do you 


rettes а day. 


Miss C 
? It is “not 


Mrs. Cauon's. ry- 
here is virginal, right down to the 
scullions in the kitchen. Fhere is not 
even onc married. woman who works 
here a: domestic What I 
10 indicate to you is the mosphere of 
the school. It is virginal. Wh the 
young ladies are here they think а 
ns think, they talk as vir 
ad, in the past, some 
sexual experience — which, of course, 
none has had — she would never discuss 
it, not even with her dearest friend. It 


if one of them | 


simply isn’t done.” 
My God, that's horrible,” Morrison 
said. “Think how that gil must be 


feeling. She's had sexual intercourse with 
Stud and now she's in with this virginal 


crowd — 
Selma Parker smiled. "You are so 
worked up about this, arem you? You 


take such a personal interest i 

“Implsiug that 1 have no ses life 
my own 10 concern me,” Morrison 
quickly. “Miss Parker, you can't insult 
me. © a personal interest, E have 
simply en too many boys with good 


minds adopt the attitude Ramsey has. He 
thinks that because he's read certain 
hooks Tatum is literally incapable. of 
reading, that he, Ramsey, is a finer hue 
man be Everybody telly him he's 
finer he gets higher marks than Ta- 


tum, and to get higher marks means you 
are finer. Thinking that ad knowing 
Tatum has had any number of girls — 
and Ramsey has had none at this point, 
mind you hie begins to equate a direct 
sexual drive with stupidity and insensi- 
tivity. And, goddamnit, that is wrong. 


In his own thi 
ned sexuality 


ing Ramsey has sepa- 
and intelligence. That is 
impossible. The mind and the body car 
not be separated. One cannot exist with- 
out the other. А man’s blood circulates, 
his bra ives off electrical impulses, and 
his testicles produce sperm. Castrate him. 
do major damage to his body, and his 
mind will be affected. And what do you 
think Ramsey has done to himself, emo- 
tionally? From now on Ramsey's mind 
will become less because it has become 
separated from part of its sexu its 
drive. What could have been real think- 
may become mere dallying, He will 
that he rejects 
d Mary Sarah and sex. My God, 
n't do this to himself. Real think- 
of any kind, has a pair of testicles. 
из the ble thing humanity 


become less to the degre 
Stud 
he с 


most val 


has.” 
“Except for one other, 
1 slowly, as if she mig 
“The womb from which we are all ush- 
ered forth.” She looked up at Morriso 
"Do you know what à woman giv 
a man when she gives love? And 
docs not tike love, Morrison, a 
woman frequently gives 
whole life, forever. Because а man n 
get up and walk away, but for a woman 
there is the possible consequence of a 
child. And a child chang woman's 
life, forever. Oh, in many w: 
versation is an ancient arg 
man thinks of his pl 
family. The social institution of m 
riage is the only solution, of course. 


always 


t. She gives her 


“But Fm not talking about anyone 
getting pregnant! I'm not talking about 


anyone doing anything 

“Oh, hush,” she said. “Will you please 
hush? You would sicken a stone donkey 
with your constant talk of sex, sex, sex.” 
She relit the cigareite һай been 
holding, “Do you bout girls 
this age? They cm be little bitches. Th: 
а word 1 seldom use, but it is the 
only accurate опе here. They do not 
realize how cruel. they sometime: 
but they сап be bitches 
“Mary Sarah arrived here 
Balenciaga suit and what appe 
a Jacqueline. Kennedy haido, but 
turned out to be a very costly wig, and 
Elizabeth Taylor сус make-up. I presume 


she 


10w much 


They gave her a hard time,” Morri- 
son said, nodding. "Yes, boys do that, 
too. But 1 imagi it hurts a girl morc." 
Consequently, do you know what it 
Ramsey 
call upon her? To be genuinely inte 
ested in her? Only a few of the older 
girls here know boys who are close 
enough to come to sce them. It lon 
drive, even from Harvard or Yale, for an 
hour or so on a Sunday afternoon. Your 


Byron Ramsey has meant a great deal 
to Mary Sarah.” She turned sideways on 
the sofa, so that she faced him. “Do you 
understand why I cannot permit what 
you suggest? Particularly with this girl, 
with this girl least of all." 

You have to. Because Ramsey will 
citer reject her — 

"No." Selma Parker ground out the 
cigarette in an ashtray. "I want you to 
visit me again tomorrow afternoon at 
this time, Morrison. Bring Byron. Ram- 
sey with you. Leave him outside, in your 
car, where he will see Ma һ оп 
the playing field. He will walk down to 
her and they will talk. I am sure they 
do not need us as much as you think.” 

“No. They need guidance —" 

"No. 1 believe it will work best that 

a aid. "She will sim- 

m lied and 


"But Tatum didn't li 
"Oh, come now," Miss Parker said, 
smiling. "Of course he lied, Morrison 
I know that he did. Now, goodbye. I 
will sce you tomorrow at four.” 
Wednesday afternoon. Morrison stop- 
ped the Volkswagen in the turnaround at. 
Miss Catton’s at exactly four o'clock. 
Ramsey sat beside him, looking sour 
and rebellious. He was dressed extremely 
casually in old plum-colored corduroys 


and an anci! 
which had once been white, were bound 
around the instep with elect 
to hold on the soles. 

Morrison looked down the slope at the 
gaggle of gray-flannel shorts on the 
playing field. "She down there: 

"She's there, she's there," Ramsey said 
bly. 

Now you remember what you're to 
say." Morrison prompted. 

"Oh, sure," bitterly. “I 
stroll down there and say. ‘Hey. you ever 
give a friend of mine, Stud Tatum, the 
time, hey, and if you did, tell me why 
or I'll flunk English.’ "Well, as long 
its for the good of your mind,” she'll 
sa $ 


Now cut that ou 
table, too. He felt very frustrated; 
that bitch r was making him 
do someth ew wouldn't work, 
and there was nothing he could do— 


was 


he was the authority at Miss Catton's. 


"Do you remember what 1 told yo 

Ramsey turned in the seat so that 
he faced Morrison. "Sir, 1 don't mean 
any disrespect. You're older than 1 am 
d а lot more intelligent and 1 guess 
you've been around pretty much. When 
it comes to Beowulf I'm with you all the 
way. But this isn't some class, sir, this 
real. What you want me to do isn't going 
to work. Mary Sarah’s not even going to 


All it's going to do is m. 
ad, and that’s going to m: 
me feel bad, and ——" 

“It will work." Morrison said. "She 
will talk to you. Ramsey, no female 
this hemisphere can resist telling a man. 
who is in love with her about her past 
sins. They simply lovc to confess." 

But what the hell good's that goin 
" Ramsey said, his voice r 
"What the hell good is it goi 


giving some girl the tim 
t is a basic and fundamental psycho- 


igs of this sort they are changed. 
"Into what? Frogs? 
isten, it's important to me to know 
how VI be changed. I mean, you just 
don't go into something like this with- 
out knowing something about the future. 
brain surgeon, Mister Morrison, 
would tell a guy he had a 5050 chance. 
I mean, what if I suddenly turn queer? 
Wharll you write Moth 

"People don't just suddenly turn 
queer," Morrison said. "And you know 
they don't. 1 don't know how you'll be 
changed. The way you'll be is already 
inside you this minute. You'll develop 
and grow.” 

They got out of the Volkswagen. It 
the 


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PLAYBOY 


142 


oe 
ang up on 
r hockey sticks and you don't 
hear my feeble cri 
TII be in that bitch. Parker's office." 
Ramse terest. 
er No 
I 


to bloom. "Well, where'll you be, 
Ramsey said, "in case they 
mew 


Never mind. Go down to the field. 
1 better go to the bathroom first. 
No, you can wait and go later. 
„ you've got good eyesight. 

Being able to tell when 
to the bathroom 


Morrison to the door and 
banged the thout looking back 


i Ramsey. The maid let him in and 
took him to Miss Parker. She was sitting 
1 the trestle table with a large stack of 
pers before her and she looked up 


you'll have to wait a bit. 
thing to occupy your mind. 

ison sat im the platform rocker 
and stared at the dead fireplace, but the 
r did not seem comfortable. He 


walked to the window and stared at the 


playing field. He could not see Ramsey 
anywhere and he began to wander about 
the room, nervously picking up small 


objects of art and putting them dow: 

“Oh, will you sit dow P 
said. "Morrison, you are acting exactly 
like a mother hen. Here. Read some- 
thing.” She flung a copy of The Allantic 
at him. 

“I've sen this issue," Morrison said. 
telephone rau ‚ Sel 
rooted among a pile of papers on the 
table, uncovered а telephone rece 
nd put it to her 
she said, 
Mor S at her 
ight in her eyes had the same elf 
m as a mildly strong clectric shock. 
By God, he thought, she's talkin 
man! 


here, 
ened. 


e bright. 


" she said, 
world concerned 
th of the person 
just this minute 


how are you 
1g so much in thi 
te of he: 
who had called. “I w 
th g of you 
As Selma Parker spoke she stood up 
and walked toward the sofa, and the 
long telephone cord knocked books and 


But I understood you could wear this kind 


in Europe and nobody paid any attention. 


papers off the table and they splashed on 
the floor. She sank slowly down on the 
sofa. She did not sit, she sank slowly and 
rather wantonly movie star of the 
lid into а milk 
bath. In the process of slithering, she 
removed both her Joafers and sat wi 
ically. 
i idn't really!” she burst out. 
“Oh, you didn't. Really, did you? Oh, 
did you really do that? Oh, how funny. 
And then what did she do? She did? 
Really, did she do that? Oh, how funny. 
What was sl Jus 
her slip? Oh, how funny! s really 
the funniest thing I think I have ever 
heard. 1 wish Id been there. 
Yes, it's à great pity, Morrison thought 
sourly. 
“Oh, I'd love to, but I can't this week- 
No, really, 1 
y and I c 


as 


cals. I should h iown, she was spend. 
ing so much in her rooms 
1 then sargling with this absolutely 
stult so nonc of us would 
know. She's in a little hospital in Brook- 
line. drying out. The one she always goes 
to. Well, 1 do, too. Well, of course 1 
know how you feel, I have feelings, too, 
you know. Yes, ducks, you do that. Yes, 
and thanks for asking. "By 
She put the phone dow 
ing at nou holding her left ankle 
with her right hand. 
"She's an alcoholic, the old gir 
Morrison asked. 
Selma Parker jerked 
Td forgott 


nd sat 


rect. "Morrison! 
п you were here. Why, that 
ng to do, to 
e quite a loud voice,” Mon 
Did you expect me to cover 


ast not mention Miss 
Catton's aflliction. No one knows of it, 
ly the school trustees. The person 
to whom 1 was speaking lives in Boston, 
has no connection. with any school, 
quite an old personal friend 
“L never gossip,” Morrison said s 
nd he walked to the window. A bo: 
1— he recognized Ramse 
¢ walking slowly up the knoll with 


their heads bent like mour 

were about a foot apart, 

but not touching cach other. 7 
was talking, and obviously talking s 


ously. She was small and built 
of little circles — round. little ev 
mouth, round little breasts and buttocks, 
They walked close to the window, the 
turned without sec Morrison, 
started down the 
They are talkin 
Parker sai 

Morriso 


Ltokl-youso way. 
ed at her, then looked 
pl 


gln 
away as if she 
“You ever read The Making of Ameri- 
cans, Miss Parker?” he asked idly- 

"I don't know it, no.” 


Playboy Club News 


Е 


VOL. II, NO. 34 


(51960 PLAYBOY C 
DISTINGUISHED CLUBS ГІ MAJOR CITIES 


JBS INTERNATIONAL 


SPECIAL EDITION 


YOUR ONE PLAYBOY CLUB К! 
ADMITS YOU TO ALL PLAYBOY CLUBS 


MAY 1963 


PLAYBOY CLUB GIVES KEYHOLDERS ADVANTAGES 
UNDER LATEST EXPENSE-ACCOUNT TAX RULES 


Keyholders who entertain for 
business purposes will find that 
the Playboy Clubs make every 
effort to assist in compliance 


YOUR ONE 
PLAYBOY CLUB KEY 


ADMITS YOU TO 
ALL PLAYBOY CLUBS 


with the new expense-account 
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In line with the new tax regu- 
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a form to simplify expense- 
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spaces to list the pertinent in- 
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purposes. The attending Bunny 


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LOCATIONS SET—Los Angeles 
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Monthly Statement Provided. 


The Playboy Club also pro- 
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Playboy Bunnies wish keyholders Kus 


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year 4661 is symbolized by the Bunny, a lucky omen for all things. 


Tsai (Happy New 
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the Ye 


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LATE FLASHES 


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NEW ORLEANS-Kai Winding, New York Playboy Club 
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Ж ay one BOUNTY STATE cern | 


PLAYBOY 


“Gertrude п considered it her ma- 
jor work. She said once that the most 
important novels of the 20th Се 
were Proust's, and Joyce's, and 
Making of Americans. 1 find that almost 
no one h; 

Oh, well, she hasn't been dead long 
enough to have a real revival. 

Morrison invited to have tea, but 
he declined. Tea was the last thing he 
wanted to drink, and Selma Parker the 
last person he would have chosen to 
drink anything with. He went outside 
and stood the sunshine beside the 
Volkswage t Ramsey came slowly 
the slopi puckered and 
tent. 

They got in the car and Morrison 


face 


fes, sit, pretty much," Ramsey said 
А he let out his breath; from the noise 
it made he had evidently been holding 
it since early childhood. “She was very 
io me the way she did. I told 
her that she was the only girl I ever knew 
in my entire life who would 
hon He fell into silence. 
“But what?” Morrison said; Н 
that Ramsey had not told him 
“Well, we talked about a lot of things 
you told me. The boredom, and so on. 
I mean, you were partly right, Mister 
Morrison, But you weren't entirely right. 
1 asked her somethin be I shouldn't 
We got to ad it just 
slipped out. 1 said, But why'd you do 
it with Stud and not with me? And you 
know what she said, Mister Morrison? 
What? 
She said, "Well, Byron, you never 


nice to 


have, 


aske 

Morrison was stunned. OF course one 
had to ask, that was basio Everythi 
wsey had been so i 
it had never occurred to him 
‚ would have to 
Е with her sweet 
simplicity, had unmasked him as the 
stuffy English teacher he was. He began 
to laugh, ruefully. “Well, Ramsey, I 
guess that’s something every boy should 
have engraved on the back of his wrist 
watch.” 


"Thursday night it was Morrison's turn 
to make bed check in the dormitory. 
Lights had to be off at 10 o'clock. Mor- 
i iot strict, and often he did not 
from room to room until 
0. IF someone was reading or study- 
ing, Morrison would tell him to tke his 
book to the can. At midnight, Morrison 
would check the can. If any boys were 
still ding, Morrison would send them 
to bed. 

Thursday night. about 10:15, Morri- 
son started going from room to room, 
saying, пе to turn them off now." 


144 The door of Ramsey and Tatum room 


but the room was dark as if 
p. That was unusual, 
rally in the сап 
ing when Morrison made his final 
check; he was that kind ol reader. Morri- 
son had once caught him awake at 3:30 
reading by flashlight, 


was open 
they were asle 
ise Ramsey w 


in the mornin; 


Morrison paused at the door. "Every- 
all right? 
Just fine, Mister Morrison," Stud 


said. "Goodni, 
"Goodni; 
night, Ramsey." 
There was 1 
Then Stud whis 
Byron must alr 
Morrison reached 


orrison said. "Good- 


immediate 


response, 


ady be asleep, si 
ide the door and 
turned on the 
There was nothing in Ramsey's 
except a rolledup blanket. "Oh, 
Christ sake Morrison said, and 


for 
stepped inside and closed the doo! 


Stud shrugged. 1 told Byron it 
wouldn't fool anybody.” 
"FED bet you did," Morrison said. 
“Where is he? Has he gone to the vil- 
lage, to the liquor store? 
‘He wouldn't tell me —" 
"Geb up." Morrison said. "We'll go 
speak to the Head. 
w, lor Christ sa 
he wouldn't tell me. 
He's at the cat house. 
ht and he left lı 
. D asked him why 
me to mind my own goddamn bus 
He's over at the cat house right now. 
ГИ bet money on it.” 

He asked her, Morrison thought; 
damn him. He sat down on the vacant 
twin bed. “You should have told me. 
Ww if I hadn't taken bed check: 
Well, Byron keeps talking about 
gentleman never saying anyth 
got me so screwed up I don't know when 
to tell something and when not to. But 
we fixed that door downstairs so he 
get back in. 
Yes, il someone doesn't see him sim 
g back across the grounds.” ) 
looked out the window. It was a bright, 


a 


in his car, but that 
ay he might miss Ramsey entirely. 


100 


“Stud, keep this door closed. If anyone 


wants in... well, tell them to sce mc." 


“Where are you going, sir? 
“To make a telephone call." Morrison 


walked down the hall to his rooms. It 
was the last thing he wanted to do, to 
call Selma Parker and tell her that By- 
топ Ramsey and Mary Sarah Butler were 
at that moment locked together in joy- 
ous congress somewhere in Miss Catton's 
wellaended. shrubbery, But he h 
he felt When 


rison. Miss P: 


ker, pl 
In a moment she s; 


s Morri- 


son?" 
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PLAYBOY 


146 someone to enter hi 


tension on your line?" 

Morrison, I am well aware that you 
are insane. Do you have to call at odd 
hours to make it even more clear? 

Morrison lost his temper. “АП right, 
I will put it in basic English for you, 
Miss Parker. Ramsey isn't in his bed. 
Alter telephoning Mary Sarah, he left 
here carrying а blanket. Do you know 
what that means?" 

"Oh, goddamn you!" she exploded. 

"Why, how dare you say that to me?" 
Morrison said in a cold voice. "Are you 
so stupid you don't know it's your fault? 
You wouldn't sit down and talk to them. 
ОГ course, they sneaked off somewhere! 
They feel they have to sneak. And no 
one in this world should have to sneak 
anything. Now, I'll tell you what you are 
going to do. You are going to see that 
not the slightest embarrassment is caused 
that girl. If one thing happens to em- 
barrass her I'll — 

"Don't you dare threaten me!” Miss 

Parker said stoutly. 
(ho's threatening you?” Morrison 
said. "I simply don’t think an alcoholic 
should be hcad o[ a school for young 
ladies" He waited until he heard her 
gasp, then he broke the connection. 

Morrison stuck a flashlight and a pack 
of cigarettes in his pocket and went 
downstairs. He stood some distance from 
the dormitory, beneath a large oak tree. 
The night was cool, the moon pale 
white. It was not yet 11 o'clock. Morri- 
son knew the boy might keep the 
out until three or fou the morni 
if one were going to take a chance, th 
опе might as well enjoy it. 

A friend of Morrison's, who had been 
a foot soldier, had told him that a 
heavily wooded area you could some 
locate enemy positions by watcl 
shadows and patches of light. If a shadow 
moved, then you knew where to бге 
Shortly after midnight, Morrison 
served a shadow moving toward the dor- 
mitory; the shadow tried to keep in the 
larger blots of darkness, which was clever, 
but now and then it had to cross patches 
of moonlight. Morrison waited, and 
when the shadow was quite close, he 
ng upon it roughly. The shadow 
n alarm and dropped a blan- 
ket it happened to be carrying. 

"You listen to me, Ramsey," Morrison 
said. “I've risked my job to keep you in 
school. I won't do it again. The next 
time you sneak out, no matter why, the 
Head will hear about it. Is that quite 
clear?” 
ure thi 
said jauntily — much too jauntily for a 
culprit. 

“What the hell have you been doing?” 

Ramsey grinned. “Out get 
wrist watch engraved. 

у Morrison waited for 
classroom with a 


ob- 


All day Frida 


message that the Head wanted to see 
him. Morrison had decided that, in his 
own defense, he would simply say he 
thought he had done the right thing, 
and then offer to resign. He would never 
say anything about Miss Catton's being 
an alcoholic, of course; that would be 
cruel. But no message came from the 
Head and after his last class that after- 
noon Morrison went to his rooms. He 
was just sitting down when Johnstone 
banged on the door. “Phone call down- 
stairs!” 

“Tell them to call my number!" Mor- 
n called, but Johnstone had gone on 
whistling down the hall. 

The telephone in Morrison's room was 
private, and all his friends had the 
number. He knew the from 


tly, “Yes? What 


tner in crime, 


stantly that 
not Morrison, and 
sounded subdued. "Yes?" hc 


that she 
said. 

I've wanted to talk to you all da 
I wanted to tell you about last night 
1 decided to go outside. That i 
outside. I did manage to get our fr 
back in again without being scen. As a 
matter of fact, we sat up quite late and 
had a very girly talk, About life, you 
know." She paused. “What happened 
for the best, Jacoby. I thought, es 
ially since we had disagreed about 
course to be 


pec 
which 


pleased 

“I am," Morrison said. "Very pleased. 
My report is the sume, except we had 
no girly talk.” 


She laughed. “Jacoby, do you have 
а саи? 
"I do," he said, pick up where 


she had so carefully placed it for him. 
"It's only a Volkswagen, but ——" 

“A Volkswagen. Oh, how cunning!” 

“— But I was thinking last night that 
you should get out and see the country- 
side. You do have a magnificent view 
over there, but 1 know a spot where 
you can see three states all at once — 
Connecticut, New York and Massachu 
setts. A lot of people think you have to 
get out when the sun is shining. But the 
view is excellent at night, this time of 
Did you notice the moon last 


‘Oh, ves. 1 did. I did notice i 
Well, I have to be here tonight for 
dinner, but | could drive over late 
About cight o'clock? 

I'd love to. And thank you for a 
me, Jacoby.” 

Well, by God, Morrison thought, and 
he trotted back to his rooms, whistling 
and made a strong drink which he took 


into the shower. 

It was dark at eight o'clock: the moon 
would not rise before ten. As Morrison 
went slowly up the drive at Miss Cat- 
ton's, the headlights of the car illumi- 
nated the figure of a girl standing on 
the steps, waiting. Selma Parker still 
wore a tweed skirt that was baggy, but 
she had on a white blouse and pearls, 
and her hair was up in a 
old maid ever imagined. 

“I hope you don't mind my waiting 
outside," she said, as he opened the door. 


DE course not," Morrison said. "Lis- 
теп, the moon won't be up for a bit. 
There's a rather nice inn in the village, 
with a small bar that's quite respectable. 
We could go for a brandy, if you'd like." 

“I'd love to go for a brandy," she said. 
and she smiled. 

They sat in the small bar with their 
heads together and talked. She had gone 
to Smith and she knew a cousin of one 
of his old 

in Mexico, but 
n sil She me 

ance one su 
friend, but she did not 
They drank two brand 
to go. 

Morrison drove slowly arou 


roommates. He told her about 
the 


about 
bicye 


not 
ned 


mer with a 


said, “About here, I think," and. pulled 
off the road onto the gravel. 

She leaned forward, her elbows on her 
knees. It was true, onc could see for 
miles. In the moonlight, in the fields 
below, there were freshly turned furrows, 
эк for seed. 

“Think how it was before the white 
man.“ she said. Think about the In- 
dians down there in that field now, mak- 
ing love so the corn would be more 
fertile.” 

"They didnt do it now,” Morrison 
said. “They didn't do it until after they 
got the seed in the ground. About the 
last of. May. "There's not much point 
New England in getting your seed in 
the ground too soon 

“Oh, you logical creature,” she said 
softly. She was smiling at him. "You 
did something so very kind. And 1 was 
absolutely no help at all.” She took a 
deep breath. “Someone should do some- 
thing nice for you. 1 don't know if I'm 
nice enough." She took his hand and 
held it, sitting with her head lowered. 
“Oh, my dear, can't you help me? Oh, 
oby, can't you ask пи 

She had been touched by what he һай 
done and h ched by that. He 
could feel her trembling; he drew her 
dose. “Oh, 1 intended asking. 1 in- 
tended that. I think it's been made clear 
to all of us that we must ask.” 


was to 


THE BUM (continued from page 110) 


the right answer. Everyone was happy 
to hı it 

Another man told a dirty joke. 
hearers laughed at its finish. There was 
no beggar profit in the empty, windy 
streets. The bums, on layoff, entertained 
one another. 

1 heard strange curses, rasping coughs 
sudden crazy outcries. But there was 
sociability in the flooded lobby — the 
jauntiness of a journcy ended, a des- 
tination arrived at. And in the gloomy, 
odorous room, there was a mood of 
hurrah. These discards approved of onc 
another. They were without criticism. 

w flasks being passed. I gave mine 
to two men. They took swigs and re- 
turned it, politely. 

Near me, a skeletonized man with 
sickly eyes started telling an anecdote 
about himself. 1 wrote it y 
а one-act play and performed it over 
the radio with movi eaor Alfred 
Hitchcock playing one of the parts. I 
played the sickly-eyed bum who told 
the story. He said a strange th 
pened to him on a winter night а year 
before. He п front of 
a saloon at 
snowstorm. The saloon was closed. He 
was unable to walk because he 
sick and hungry. So he stood still 
snowstorm in the empty street. Then 
he happened to look into the darkened 
saloon window and he saw the figure 
of Jesus Christ standing inside it, plain 
Jesus was wearing a white robe. 
was barefooted and а crown of 
s was on his head. ing him, the 


bum cried ош: "Jesus Christ! Im a 
sonofabitch if it ain't! W; round 
barefoot in the snow. Bleedin’ all over." 


The bum said he started talking to 
this Jesus in the saloon window, because 
he felt sorry for him, barefoot in the 


ig from his wounds. 


icy night and Мес 


He said he told Jesus he'd be able to 
find a bed for him in a couple of hours. 
He 


knew a whore who finished her 
"s work around three a.m. He had 
d Jesus wasn't the kind who turned 
up his nose at a whore. 

Then the figure of Jesus had started 
fading out of the saloon window. The 
bum be He held out h 
to the g Jesus and said, "Don't go 
"way. 1 thought you was goin’ to pal 
with me." 

But Jesus disappeared. The bum 
stood looking into the empty saloon 
window and, all of a sudden, he began 
to laugh. There was a looking glass in 
the window and the bum saw himself 
in it, all white with snow. 

“And I seen I'd been talkin’ to m 
self,” said the storyteller near me, "talk- 
in’ to myself in a lookin’ glass. And E 
1 thought it was 
was only me in a 


lobby. A stocky man in a sailor's recfer 
stood in the door 
a Swedish accent, "All right, fellas, the 
bunks are ready. А dime a head. No 
stowaways. Get your money out, fella 
The men started entering the sleep 
quarters. I put a dime in the Swede’s 
big hand. 
he sleeping room was darker than 
the lobby. An oil lamp on a wall offered 
a sample of the room to the eye. Its 
windows were boarded up. I made out 
two rows of pads on a cement floor, and 
lay down on one near the oil lamp. Tt 
had a greasy strip of oilcloth for a sheet. 
I heard the 50 bums stretch out in the 
dark, grunting, giggling, coughing. 


and called out in 


been here and asked questions about 
Sleepy Dan, and learned nothing. 1 had 
planned to ask no questions for a night 
or two, until 1 had carned my spurs as 
a bum. I already hungry enough to 


groan, and drunk enough to yell at the 
things crawling over my face, nipping 
at me inside my trousers as if T were a 


Thanksgiving feast. But I stayed silent. 

An hour passed. Snores. gurgles, muf- 
fled cries began to come out of the 
smelly da Crazy words sounded 
suddenly, “I'm gettin’ littler. Fm little! 
Vm little! l'm a bug!" No one wered. 
“Oh, them big tits! Tm buried in them 
big tits!" No onc laughed. A high 
pitched voice announced, “Mogo on th 
Gogo. 1 got Mogo on the Gogo!” The 
snoring increased. Men were sleeping all 
around me. I could sce them in my mind. 
Battered, gutless faces like closed doors; 
closed now to the crawl of vermin, the 
scamper of rats, and to hopele 
Bums, dreaming. Memories tiptoe 
human refuse. Old nightmares 
whimpering. 

A figure stood up in the dark, tall and 
vague like a shadow leaving a grave. It 
moved down the lane between the rows 
of pads and vanished. Another figi 
moved toward me. It lay down on the 
vacant pad next to mine. A voice whis 
pered, Sonny boy, I got a pint о’ rye.” 
It was my half-dollar friend, the pervert. 
"Don't be scared," he whispered. 
pered back. 

s a couple beds in the back 
where it's darker," the whisper said. 1 
felt a hand on my chest and 


di 


"t scared," I wl 


whispered, "and you'll like me better. 

I sat up and drat 
less hody leaned against me. 

“Tm lookin’ for a friend of mine,” I 
whispered, "Sleepy Dan." 

“You should of asked Chuck," he an- 


‚ weight 


PLAYBOY 


swered. “Chuck's his 
just went out o' her 

As D stood up, the little old man 
started. cooing, "Don't go ‘way. Don't 
go way." 

I dropped the bottle on his pad and 
stumbled out of thc room. 

‘The chilly, rain-washed night was a 
darling embrace. There are moments 
when breathing becomes a love affair 
h God. I stood swallowing the night, 
сущ its dean wind and unsullied 
spaces. A man was walking slowly a half 
block down the empty street. 1 started 
alter him. I knew what he was from the 
way he moved — a bum. Ten to one the 
bum who had left the flophouse, Sleepy 
Dan's best friend. 

‘The lone walker disappeared into an 
lley. I ran down the empty street. My 
quarry was standing in the alley with h 
back to me. Two large garba 
shone dully in front of him. 
furtively at the darkened building 1 
the cans, the man lifted the cover off one 
of them and put it carefully on the 
muddy ground. He straightened and 
thrust an arm into the uncovered can. 
He remained for several minutes with his 
arm buried in the garbage can, alert and 
notionless as a fisherman. His arm сате 
out. His hand held a prize, a bony 
chicken breast. Over its bits of rotted 


best friend. He 


meat, sparks raced like blue insects. He 

stood still and ate his find. 
When he had finished gnawing and 
arbage meal, he started to- 


eet. T hid in the shadows as 
he appeared. He walked off and 1 fol- 
lowed him. 

Its not easy to talk to a man you've 
seen driven by hunger to nibble like a 
rat at decaying refuse. A guilt makes you 
shy. I followed, clutching the three dol- 
lar bills in my pocket. I'd give hi 
and tell him to go buy a mı 

As I decided on this good * 
deed, the man walked up the front steps 
of a house. A red electric light burned 
over its door. He iz the bell. The door 
opened. 1 was up the steps and behind 
he entered. 

n with a simpleton 
Hee Four 


e led 


large, glass-topped. table, drinking beer. 
One of the girls stood up and said, 
“Hello, Chuck. Glad to see vou. Gets 
loncly 

She went toward him slowl 
her hips and bouncing her br 


hands. Her kimono opened. She was 
naked. under it. 
“Be right with you. babe,” said Chuck. 
He sat down and removed a shoe. He 


dollar bill out of its toe and 
He wiped his 
and said, 


fished à 
handed it 10 the girl 
smeared mouth with his sleev 
"Come on. babe. Upstairs.” 

The two started for a 


14g Another of the girls had left the table. 


She opened her kimono and put her arm: 
around me. I called out, “Hey, Chuck. 
Chuck, sallow-skinned, loosemouthed, 
turned. 
“I can't help you, bud,” 
zave her my last dime. 


he said, “1 


lookin’ 
You know whi 
girl in here.” 
aw," Chuck said, “Danny's girl 

over on Desplaines Street, near Harrison. 
Ask for Masha. She runs a gypsy joint.” 
chuck started up the stairs, a bride- 
groom arm around his second prize of 
the nigh 

J bolted out of the place and went 
hunting Masha. It was midnight when I 
found her i bandoned bakery shop. 
Its door was open. 1 walked through a 
curtain-draped. fortunctelling ofice into 
a rear room. Three women, two men and. 
two children were sprawled on a floor 
covered with many rugs There was a 
single piece of furnitu: fancy shaded 
floor lamp. It revealed all the figures but 
A flamboyant woman in her 
30s was sitting up. reading a book 

“I'm looking for Masha,” I said. 

The book reader nodded and went 
on reading. I sat down beside her. The 
beat-up book in her hands was Walt 
Whitman's Leaves of Grass. 

I'm looking for the man who ga 
you that book," I siid. 

“I know,” she nodded 
time looked at me. 

А sooty face, black liquid. eyes and 
bones; a mane of glossy 
hanging around her shoulder: 
large white teeth glistening out of a 
mouth ready for anger: an unpredictable 
body u esses, flounces, 
petticoats, chains of beads, bracelets, 
silken scarves: a soiled rainbow of a 
woman — Masha. I was conscious of vital- 
ity more than flesh, of strong hands more 
than full-mooned breasts. 

“You look for Danny,” she said in a 
husky voice. “Why? You too young for a 
cop. You dress dirty, look dirty. But you 
no bum. You lvi 

Her black eyes held my face like a pai 
of hands. 

1 told her I was a newspaper reporter. 
She nodded and said, "Thank you. 1 look 
for Danny, too. He's my husband. 

She showed me the flyleaf of her book. 
I read an inscription, “This book and I 
belong to Masha forever. Danny.” 

I wied to hide my thrill of delight. 
Masha laughed and slapped my arm. 

"You got a crazy head," she said. 
give you a d 

She filled a glass from a bottle beside 
her. 1 asked questions as 1 sipped the 
sweet, tangy wine. 

“Were vou ma 
Masha, or was i 


for an old friend, Sleepy D: 
re he is? I heard he had a 


ге 


gain, but this 


ader a tumult of dı 


тїй in a 

а civil ceremo 
the Chath 
Arabian. 


church, 


x of ld mil- 


his fashion 


imo this barren place. 
"No church," said Masha. "1 marry 

n my bedroom, I say you my 

d. He say I ат." 

1 AEL 1 окей at the two 

Are those 


Masha said, 
“1 got two pe husbands same time." 

She leaned over and slapped the 
swarthy face of one of the sleeping men. 
He opened his eyes and grinned slowly. 

"You want me, Mashinka?" he asked. 
He rolled over quickly to her side. placed 
a hand on her thigh and lifted his face 
obligingly for a kiss. A second slap from 
Masha sent him teetering. 

“Don't insult me in f 
Masha said. "You tell young m: 
my husband." 

"Mes" the slapped face 
Who else?" Masha asked. 

He pointed to a plumper colleague, 
lying on his back, his thick mustache 


nswered. 


Mutter with snores. 
"Him," he said, “him and mc. And 
Danny. We all Masha's husband." 


He grinned at his joint wife and 
added, “Maybe you got number-four 
husband now. Yes?" 

His face was out of range, but Masha's 
pointed shoe darted out and caught him 
in the ribs. Her victim grinned at the 
exposure of purple-stockinged leg. 

"Beautiful," he said. 

"Pig! Dog!” Masha said. "You touch 
me, I skin you alive. Go to sleep 

The man lay down and obediently 
closed his eyes. Masha introduced me to 
the two female sleepers. “That one my 
mother. Old one grandmother, Eve 
body sleep: Not Masha. Masha look for 


nny” Her voice became a husky 
ıt. “I find him. II he is in this life 
I find him. Because Masha can see 


gh walls. Nothing hide from Mash 


rowing Masha 

ther Danny 

father's millions. 1 told 

in all the papers. 

ad my people don’t 
wer 


read,” 
ad. 


to 
me out of book. Tonight he don't speak. 


y times he sp 


I wait. 
1 watched her as she stared into the 
book of poems, and a belief in the super- 
natural grew stronger in me. Not the 
supernatural of divinity and angels, but 
of people; of unused human pow 

Many years after that night 1 thought, 
how small an invention the release of 
c power will seem when the tinker- 
psychologists finally uncover the mys- 
tic forces of our brains. And put them. 
to work; each human to become а world 


їз. 


radio station, an indestructible arsenal 
of good and evil, and a crony of the 
Fates. God help us then. 

my head wobbled 


is. 


Do you mind if I stay here tonight” 
1 asked. 

She patted the rug beside h 
stretched ош. Her husky v 
to sing softly. The words were 
but the tune whispered to me of dark 
clouds over a forest, of exotic griefs. 
Despite the frontpage copy somersault 
ing through my he 
lullaby sent me floating into sleep. 

At 7:30 in the morning I stood in a 
drugstore telephone. booth reciti 
ney. Masha 
h her car close to the 
hed my tale of Danny's 


as gifted with sec- 
nd would soon be able to 
ny for us. 
lent won't be needed," said 
Mahoney. “The heir to the C 
field milli found putrefying 
et alley after mid 
He had been dead for а week. An over- 
dose of morphine. The police have iden- 
. So ha a number of his 

Is. At the present writing, 
in the expert hands of the 
Funeral Parlor май. His 
ng made presentable for a 
stylish burial Saturday morni Mr. 
Mahoney chuckled. “It’s a pretty stor 
he said. "Hang onto your brokenhearted 
gypsy princess. Keep her bottled up for 
the Journal. Our photographer will be 
at her wigwam in a half hour. 

I hung up and said to Mash; 
sorry you had to hear it that w 

I hear it last n 
spea 
came on the wall. The black 
strong s gripped 
death m in arn 

We w d out of th 


drugstore. I told 
her about the photographer coming to 


take pictures of hei 

“I go home get r 
“I put pearls and t 
now you go home. You 


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p 
she whispered 
1 never saw 
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PLAYBOY 


to consider returning to one of my origi- 
nal careers. 1 had been a good fiddle 
yer at 11 and a trapeze acrobat at 
14 in the Harry Costello C 
ring tent show that toured Wi: 
one enchanted summer of 
and bankruptcy. 

uckily, Mr. Mahoney's attitude had 
nged in time. He learned that, after 
my day's work was done at three p.w, I 
went flitting about the West Side until 
dawn, tickling hundreds of people for 
à clue to Masha's whereabouts. 

want you to cover Sleepy Dan 
funeral tomorrow," Mr. Mahoney grinn 
nd give us a si 
Alger story of the bum who m: 
as а corpse. And for God's sake, stop 
brooding about Masha. Your gypsy toss- 
pot is bound to turn up with some 
ambulance-chasing lawyer and make a 
grab for the Chatfield millions. There 
never was a gypsy who wouldn't steal a 
doormat, let alone a pot of gold.” 

A libel, that, as what ethnic generality 
isn't? No Masha turned up. No lawyer 
put in a daim for her. The field. 
millions were otherwise distributed to 
deserving institui as stated in the 
financier's will, without conti 
he funeral of the “millionaire bum" 
s an exclusiv air. No bums other 
than Danny were allowed attendance. I 
took a look at Sleepy Dan in his orna- 
mented, flower-piled casket. A pink- 
checked, aggressively high-toned corpse 
lay in the white-satined rectangle. 

1 noted that a half-dozen distinguished 
lawyers representing the Chatfield estate 
were present, and that they rivaled the 
corpse in tailoring and aloof expressions. 

As the organ rumbled its finale in the 
funeral-parlor chapel, I thought happily 


, hunger 


ch: 


of Sunday. Tomorrow, Betha. Her name, 


aided by the organ mu t dreams 
floating in my head. 1 would recite my 
rain similes to her, and read her my 
story in the Journal — from flophouse to 
a grave of grandeur. And | would ask 
her to marry me, if we were ever out of 


her mother's earshot long enough. Purity, 
innocence and a genteel ear for my 
Othello anecdotes — what better wife 
could 1 want? Love? Male youth invents 
love. Or borrows it from a girl. Or, even 
better, forgets to bother about it. Life 
is his bride. 


15 house in Hyde Park 
terday's mansion, a 
wooden belle of ‚а bit out of 
plumb but still elegant. respectful 
lawn lay in front of it. An elm ute stood 
at i if ready in green livery to 
announce any arrival. 

A Negro in a white coat opened the 
door, smiled expertly at me, pulled my 
hat out of my hand and led me into a 
large room. А room full of antique ma- 
hogany furniture polished as if it were 
brand new, of stiff settees, intellectual- 
looking rugs, oil portraits on the walls 
and bookcases much too fine for books. 
I had been in this room a number of 
times, but it always surprised me. I felt 
as if 1 should bow to it as to the head of 
the house. 

The black-brocaded widow Ingalls 
greeted me with a sort of whimsical tol- 
erance. Betha and 1 shook nds, and 
her gentle fingers seemed to expire in 
my clasp. I met a stranger named Mr. 
James Smith. He was middle-aged, some- 
what paunchy, with a bland circle for a 
face. He looked at me through rimless 
glasses. I seemed to amuse him. 

"Unde Jimmy [Mr. Smith] has just 
come back from Egypt,” Betha said. “He 
was telling us some wonderful things 
about the Temple of Karnak. 

1 refrained from saying I had read 
Breasted and knew about the mighty 
ruin of Karnak with the inscription over 
i ing door: THs, тоо, SHALL Pass, I 
was presented by the colored buder with 
a cup of tea, а napkin, a small plate 
holding some odd-looking cookies— all 
droitly on one knee. 
aving no trouble with 


The Inga 
Boulevard was a 


incredi- 


ble time about sphinxes and lost tombs. 
1 had never seen Betha and her mother 


so elated. 

The talk that followed seemed equally 
fascinating — to them. The superiority of 
one ocean liner over another; the re- 


markable change in itinerary of a couple 
named Eadie and Luddie who had gor 
to Glasgow instead of London: the in- 
conceivable charm of the new Episcopa- 
lian rector, and the new spirit he had 


injecied into the Altar Guild of which 
Betha was а member: the appearance of 
a dreadful book named Jennie Gerhardt 


by a dreadful man named Dreiser. Mr 
Ingalls had returned it to McChu 
ith a stiff note after reading its first 
two chapters. And other glossy matter 
all with an overtone of disdain for some- 
thing — possibly me, or the world beyond 
this cake-icing of а room. 

During the removal of the teacups, 
Betha smiled at me and asked what I 
had been doing during the week. Her 
eyes were eager, but they glanced nerv- 
ously at her mother for approval. 1 could 
ly. as if it were a 
bonbon on a plate. An unhappy bonbon 
h dreams. Take me away, take me 
away, Betha's heart spoke to me, as her 
ves lowered. Youth is attuned to youth 
and can hear its secret messages. 

“Yes, do tell us,” said Mrs. Ingalls, in 
an advance tone of criticism. Bar-of- 
judgment mothers also have cars for 
furtive messages. “I haven't read the 
newspapers and I haven't the faintest 
idea of what has happened this weck.“ 

"Please," said Betha boldly, "I love to 
hear you 

Talk? My . Sleepy D: 
heir to millions, putrefying in a West 
Side alley. The world of Mashas. bum 
perverts, whores and garbage-can lechers: 
of rats, men and vermin huddled to- 
gether at the bottom of the night. 

I had not sat in judgment on that 
world of dirt and human rot. I had until 
this hour imagined myself а young man 
in love with all mankind. But here in 
this sleek room aversion smote me, and 
1 mounted a judgment seat. 

These trifle fanciers with their em- 
balmed minds; these ornamental ghosts 
simpering of their bloodless doings and 
offering their little froth of opinion as 
the top of thinking — I wanted no truck 
with them, 

I stood up, apologized for having work 

to do, bowed to disdainful Mrs. Ingalls 
nd amused Uncle Jimmy. 
I felt Betha’s gentle fingers in my hand 
for a last time, fingers that clung secret 
for a moment. But a dozen heroines out 
of Swinburne and Rossetti couldn't have 
delayed my exit. 

I fied the world of the bourgeoisie. 
full of mysterious judgments and indig- 
ions. 
nd it has been so with me ever since. 


AMERICANS GO HOME 


(continued from page 104) 
tics, America is clearly preferable; for 
even the superior comforts of Europe — 
cheap services and greater leisure, for 
example—are for him guiltridden ad- 
vantages. In Paris, obviously different 
from the dream of Paris, the American 
discovers he can bear Kansas City, which 
he began knowing was different from ail 
dreams of it; and this is worth his fare 
plus whatever heartache he pays as sur- 
tas. 

Yet the American is typically not sure 
that the choice he has made in leaving 
is what in his deepest of deep hearts he 
desired. On the streets of Athens his 


inner pickets chanted, "Go home!"; as 
he boards ship or plane they cry, “You 
fool!” Which is to say, he has fallen in 


love. In the crotic dream he has com- 
mitted his waking self. And he is dogged 
thereafter by the sense that if he had not 
got out in time he might have been cap- 
tured forever; might have been held by 
precisely what, in his right mind, his 
Stateside mind, he believes to be worst 
in Europe: its venality, its indolence, its 
institutionalized cynicism, its idle sensu- 
lity, its class distinctions, its shoddiness 
and dirt, its oppressive concern with the 
past. There is no reason, of course, that 
he should love only what is worthy of 
him; but as an American he is possessed 
by the mad notion that he must. 

In any case, in our most serious books, 
representative Americans do not give up 
Europe gladly. Fivgerald’s Dick Diver 
blesses the Riviera beach from which he 
turns; and James’ Lambert Strether de- 
parts from France as close to tears as his 
dry eye can come. But the regret itself 
is ambivalently regarded, Diver's blessing 
felt as blasphemous, Strether's regret as 
a betrayal of all New England has taught 
him to honor. When the tone of rejec 
tion is not nostaleic, it is likely to be — 
as in the case of Mark "Twain or Karl 
Shapiro — shrill and unconvincing: the 
tone of one who has awakened from a 
dream left only reluctantly but remem- 
bered with shame. 

Another way of saying all u 
to feel himself truly an Ame 
American artist must have th 
of having personally rejected Europe. 
Now that revolutions against Europe 
(rejection by force of arms) belong to a 
remote past; and emigration (rejection 
by flight) has slowed to a trickle, most 
Americans must content themselves with 
the experience of visiting the old coun- 
try as strangers, members of a new “we” 
able to say “they” of the inhabitants of 
lands which their fathers or grandfathers 
left behind. This means that our chief act 
of protest aga rope is tourism itself; 
and, indeed, this fact is more evident to 
the Europeans who profit, and sulter, by 
such tourism than to us as tourists 


is that 
n, the 
illusion 


st 


In any event, European travel has be- 
come an essential aspect of our culture, 
an essential part of what makes Ameri 
cans American, It is as much an expres- 
sion of our quest for identity as baseball, 
rodeos, quiz shows on television or the 
Western movie. Ever since 1850, and 
with especially vigorous surges after the 
end of cach of our great wars: in 1864, 
1919, and 1945, the trip to Europe has 
tended to become more and more a part 
of mass culture, What began as the 
perquisite of a favored few has become 
first the right and then the duty of the 

i characteristic of Amer- 
ica that things fought for as tights come 
to be felt as obligations. “What, you 
haven't been to Europe?” says the lady 
who has, to her next-door neighbor. 
“You've just got to!” And the command 
is wansmitted via that neighbor's hus- 
band to their travel agent. 
rt of our total culture, the 
ze 10 Europe is necessarily am- 
biguous in significance, its meaning di 
ferent for cach of the subgroups withi 
that culture. We have all of us, I think, 
somewhere in the back of our minds 
the image of a typical American abroad 
— for which Mark Twain is surely re- 
sponsible in part; the image of a middle- 
aged, middle-class, moderately naive and 
uneducated white, Anglo-Saxon, Protes- 
tant female with vague cultural азр 
tions and п even vaguer sense of 
returning to a place from which (give 
or take a few hundred kilometers) her 
own ancestors came. But what of the 
American Negro, whose ancestors by- 
passed Europe completely in thc holds 
of America-bound slave shi nd who 
stand therefore, as James Baldwin has 
movingly described, bewildered before 
thedrals utterly unrelated to their own 
prehistory? And what of the American 
Jew to whom those sume cathedrals rep- 
resent not something alien, but a fami 
iar horror: a threat before which his 
fathers quaked and spat. and which he 
cannot pass without a dim visceral re- 
sponse? 

“I am not religious" Karl Shapiro 

ropcan 
church without remembering that on 
Easter Sunday for а thousand. years the 
sermon was a signal for the massacre of 


writes, "but I cannot enter a Fi 


the local Jewry.” Yet there is а sense in 
which the American grade schools have 


made AngloSaxon Protestants of us all, 
perhaps even middle-aged females as 
well; teaching us to identify ourselves, 
Africans or Semites though we may be 
in our origins, with Dick and Jane, those 
textbook figures whose ancestors ob- 
viously made it out of England on the 
st boat, Certainly Negrocs and Jews 
in Europe tend to blend indistinguish- 
ably, whatever their inner qualms, with 
the three chief classes into which Ameri- 
cans abroad visibly divide: lowbrow, 
middlebrow and highbrow; though mar- 


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ginal types such as Negro and Jew are 
more likely to be found in the last group, 
the Anglo-Saxon members of which have 
been swinging back and forth for some 
30 or more years between a cult of the 
black man and a programmatic philo- 
Semitism. 

Lowbrow, middlebrow and highbrow 
— these are surely the closest things to 
genuine castes in our society; though 
they are distinguished from one another 
not by racial origin nor even money and 
status, but by taste. Despite the fact that 
this threefold classifi 
however, it is hard to define atis 
rily. But a glance at the attitudes of each 


group toward the American publication 
Chatterley’s 


of an uncensored Lady 
Lover will perhaps make their d 
ences sufficiently clear. 

To the lowbrow, the lifting of the 
censorship is of little importance. И he 
reads Lady Chatterley at all, he reads it 
as a dirty book still, i.e., conceals it from 
his wife, mother and especially his young 
daughter; and he is likely to be a liule 
disappointed at its not being such hot 
stuff after all. The middlebrow, on the 
other hand, sel-rightcously hails its pub- 
lication as a triumph of enlightenment, 
and reads it as an obligation, urging it 
on his young daughter. His wife and 
mother are already reading it, have, per- 
haps. read it long since. The highbrow 
regards the whole thing as yesterday's 
fight; and if he rereads Lady Chatterley 
(naturally he owns the bootleg Swedish 
edition), finds it rather unsatisfactory. 
He prefers, he will tell you, Lawrence's 
first version to either the cut or the un 
expurgated later ones; and he will in- 
form you that we ought to be concen- 
trating on living issues rather than dead 
ones. 

wh 


fer- 


t, then, of our three cultural 
id the trip to Europe? The low- 
brow by definition tends to stay home, 
to see America not only first—as his 
kind of billboard occasionally urges him 
— but last, too. He is the least secure of 
all Americans, most easily brainwashed, 
for instance, if he falls into Communist 
hands; for he has the smallest and least 
portable cultural stake. What he does 
possess cannot be ried with him like 
memories or even books, but is anchored 
to a particular ball park or TV channel. 
Culturally as well as politically, he is a 
natural. isolationist. Not sure of himself, 
he thinks that at least he knows "them" 
all right; and he is sure that all “they” 
want is our dollars and our women. 
There are, however, two occasions 
when the lowbrow goes abroad: when 
his sentimentality triumphs over his iso- 
lationism, and when he is drafted. Over- 
s wars are his kind of tourism: and 
he reacts in two ways to the great world 
into which he is hurled, gun in hand, 
He has a hell of a good time, an c 


152 tended binge or night on the town; 


es, in retrospect, every mi 
The Europe available to him. 
па large, the Europe of s and broth- 
els. And when he is tossed into 
other, he desecrates it in self-defense: 
shoots the head off the bust of Augustus 
in a Roman villa (claiming he thought 
it was Mussolini); writes KILROY Was 

FRE on castle walls; returns singing 
"Bless them all” and reporting that 
France literally stinks аз docs Venice, 
that Germany is clean at least, but you 
know those Krauts, cic, сіс. When war 
has become permanent or institution 
ized in the shape of occupation forces, 
he retreats to i 
nurse his grievances and keep himself 
true blue. He lives, that is to say, in 
PXville with peanut butter, cornflakes, 
Coca-Cola, and all the other disgruntled 
lowbrows with whom he rehearses their 
common complaints: poor plumbing 
ferior goods, bouts of diarrhea, che: 
storekeepers, infected prostitutes 
тем. 

Sometimes, however, the lowbrow 
makes a peacetime journey to Europe. 
ach year, for example, whole boatloads 
of returners scek out the places of their 
origin, to mingle condescension with 
ber to be baflled by the ingra 
tude of those they have come to help and 
look down on, and to be annoyed by the 
poverty and backwardness — which, all 
the same, they relish. For only against 
the former can their prosperity and 
only against the latter the progressive- 
ness of their new home towns be proper- 
ly appreciated. Meanwhile, they search 
everywhere for a remembered fellowship, 
which, of course, no longer exists: and, 
feeling somehow cheated, they return 
with a handful of souvenirs, some photo- 
graphs of surviving relatives. 

Sometimes, too, the wives and daugh- 
ters of those who wrote KILROY WAS HERE 
demand a trip to эсс just where Kilroy 
was and join organized tours, 
mingled expectation or fear, for that 
nd. Such rudimentary tourists, like the 
dy fellow traveler of my own first jour- 
ney to Europe whom I shall never forget, 
no sooner set foot on foreign soil than 
they begin to sing aggressively 
Bless America!” And they 
piciously around them at those who do 
not join in, sure that they ly 
infected beyond all hope of cure. 

When the lowbrow, however, joins a 
tour, for no matter what pious purpose, 
he is already on the way to becoming a 
middlebrow. No longer is he the pure 


ay 


T 
nd the 


stare su 


we alr 


exponi and distrust harrowing 
the hell of Europe, but also a votary 
of culture making to the 


ces in which it w nd where 
it is now shown to hordes of the 
by men almost as ignorant as they, who 
carn their living as pimps of the past. 

In the middlebrow couple, the Amer- 
ican ambivalence toward Europe is ex- 


norant 


pressed in almost perfect balance: the 
positive and negative poles of that am- 
bivalence neatly portioned out to wife 
and husband — the wife who is entircly 
thrilled (or claims to be), the husband 
who is utterly bored (or chooses ло say 
so). But surely the current someti 
alternates in each. 

Such Maggies and Jiggses, at any rate. 
are the comic mainstays of the tourist 
trade: the gallery-crawlers, the abject 
starers, the picture-takers, the throwers 
of coins into fountains. In cach count 
they must sce, for it h 
stars or three in the guidebook: but 
they do not always know what they are 
seeing. “If this is Thursday, were in 
Venice,” the old joke goes, And surely 
there is a pathos in it beyond even that 
of most old jokes: a pathos proper to 
those who at last, frozen in their deep- 
est marrow by the dread chill of half- 
abandoned churches, wearied to the 
bone by the inhuman endlessness of the 
Louvre and the Uffizi, baffled by the 
hostile stares of those at whom they stare 
so warmly—go home in unconfessed 
frustration, cach item on their agenda 
duly checked off. 

At home they have two revenges: onc 
on Europe, the other on their friends 
who stayed behind. They buy 
Europe, take it home with them and 
pass it out gift wrapped. The hysterical 
acquisitiveness of the American shopper 
abroad must surely be thought of as a 
kind of violence, a symbolic mayhem 
ог таре. And once home, the baffled 
middlebrow can urge his stay-achome 
friends to go to Europe, too, not to miss 
it while there is still anything not to 
miss. In quite the same way, he tells 
them to see the uplifting play through 
which he has already suffered, or to read 
the dull, pretentious book that bored 
him. Ог, in special malice, he can show 
them slides — momma before the Colos- 
seum, papa in the blue Aegean — while 
in the halfdarkness and the haze of 
smoke they writhe. Yet he scarcely knows 
he lies, and would be horri 
he acts more [rom hostility than lov 

The pretense about loving Europe 
which Shapiro attacks does in fact 
in a large part of middle-class Ameri 
But precisely that group calls for and 
pays well certain privileged clowns who 
act out for them the hated of Europe 
which they cannot otherwise confess. The 
first and greatest of such clowns was, of 
course, Mark Twain, and the first and 
greatest of all middlebrow travel bool 
his Innocenis Abroad. 

Serain middlebrow tourists, however, 
ndard fare of 
п the s 


now wh 


s 


can 


who grow weary of the st 


organized tours, be ch for 
"unexploited places, thentic lo- 
cales," "characteristic taverns”; and they 
аге on the way to the next and final level. 
Most of them will become only aspiring 


or ersatz highbrows, but some of them 


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because its a totally- 
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"There's something about hooking into a big one (or even a not so 
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Nothing fits this . -go-lucky mood like a golden glass of Country 
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you've been used to drinking and 
try the little can with the big 

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PLAYBOY 


154 


will really make itor, at least, prepare 
the way for sons who will make it. For 
just as the wife of the lowbrow tends to 
become the middlebrow, the son of them 
both seems destined for highbrowdom. 
Culturally speaking, the mythical Ате! 
can family consists of father, son and 
holy mother: low, high- and middle- 
brow in a single splitlevel house. 

If the lowbrow expresses the negative 
pole of our ambivalence toward Europe, 
and the middlebrow both poles in bal- 
ance, the highbrow embodies the posi 
tive pole alone. In him, tourism is 
transformed into exile; for at his 
treme, he is the expatriate or the full- 
blown renegade: wearing the costume of 
his adopted country, speaking its lan- 
guage, eating its humblest far ing 
in its dingiest corners, and crossing its 
streets to avoid his compatriots. It 
if he were punishing himself for hav 
been born an American, or trying to соп 
vince himself that he is not. Yt would 
be unfair to think of self-punishment and 
self-deceit as the chief motives of the tr 
ditional expatriate. 

Three main forces have impelled him 
to seck a new home. The first is simply 
the very American desire to escape Amer- 
ica and other Americans, when the one 
has come to seem a travesty of its own 
dream, and the others caricatures created 
by those who hate them most. The sec- 


ond is an equally American tendency to 
confuse some particular place with an 
imagined utopia; and the third the 
identical hunger for an absolute freedom 
which brought the first Americans across 
the Atlantic and sent later generations 
ng West after what, after all, 
only be sought but never found. АП three 
impulses obviously are sclfdlefeating as 
well as authentically American and more 
than a little naive: evidence that even 
such transplanted Americans as James 
nd Eliot and Pound have been inno- 
cents abroad. 

No more than the trapper or the cow- 
boy, can the American artist escape his 
countrymen. As the national park springs 
up in the footsteps of the former, the 
Hilton Hotel rises on the heels of the 
other. There is no use in the highbrow 
secking a Europe the tours have not yet 
reached. His fellow countrymen will 
scent him out; and the middlebrow 
hounds run fast and truc. Lct hi ve 
Athens for Mykonos, Mykonos for Skyros; 
sooner or later the hordes will follow. 
Let him leave Naples for Capri, Capri 
for Ischi busloads of uncomfortable 
worshipers at the shrines of cultur 
track him down. Americans cannot leave 
their artists alone; but having presum- 
ably driven them into exile, insist on 
following them there. 

Similarly, they incline 


n lea 


п the long run 


“The sea can be a cruel mistress, Witherby." 


to ape the opinions of the avant-garde 
which in the short run they have de- 
spised. Let the wary highbrow try to 
sscrt his independence by despising the 
Parthenon in favor of the. Erechtheum 
in Athens; preferring the San Clemente 
to St. Peters in Rome, or the Sant 
Ambrogio to the Cathedral in N 
the next generation of middlebrows will 
be taught his preferences by Time maga- 
zine, and the generation after by its 
guidebooks, And in the meanwhile, the 
Europe which the highbrow prefers to 
the America he remembers is remaking 
itself as fast as it can in the image of that 
America. Comics, picture magazines, 
electric refrigerators, bad American 
movies and television await him every- 
Where. For it is truc, as Shapiro nastily 
reminds us, that the Riviera becomes 
Miami Beach, true that most Europes 
want it Miami Beach. To t atlantic 
middlebrows and lowbrows this is thc 
next best thing to emigration, which has 
been denied them. 

How, then, can the intellectual-artist- 
highbrow continue to believe Paris or 
Rome or Athens the ily embodiment 
of the invisible republic of letters, the 
long lost spiritual homeland to which he 
owes an allegiance beyond the patriotism 
demanded of him by an America which 
nurtured his body but starved his spi 
The portable radio held by the European 
beside him plays Frank Sinatra or Elvis 
Presley; the girl who, bending to tic her 
sandal, looks like a Nike, chews gum and 
dances the twist. Europe is no utopia 
made of stone and wood, only a shabby 
world moving toward mass industry and 
mass culture— only a score of pseudo 
Americas whose various pasts blend into 
a dismaying future, 

There are various possibilities open to 
the highbrow who aspi le all 
the same. The first is to deceive himself 
more or less deliberately, even as hi 
middlebrow parents at home deceive 
themselves, though about another coun- 
try: to make his slogan, “My noncoun- 
try right or wrong!” Precisely such a pair 
of self-deceivers traveled with me on the 
ship to Greece, refusing to be vaccinated; 
for, they insisted, there was no smallpo: 
in Greece, only in America, to which 
they were determined never to return! 

A second possibility is to move beyond 
Europe to ever more remote and alie 
lands. Even now one sees in Athens 
Istanbul the highbrow hordes, bearded 
and sandaled like traditional pilgrims, 
and bearing the holy books of William 
Burroughs to countries whose chief i 
dustries have always been mysticism and 
the “alteration of consciousness.” They 
have reached the borders of Europe 
their quest, and beyond the marches of 
Greece and Turkey the way lies open to 
the Orient, to India and on to Japan. It 


nd 


is Japan. of course, which has already 
become the favorite meta 
haven of the highbrow. But Japan is, 
alas, precisely the most American country 
ce 1860 it has been 
vailible to our ships and our imagina- 
tions; and we arc linked w it by Lafcadio 
Madame Butterfly and hundreds 
u produced at the turn of the cen- 
nd ladies. 


by genteel New Eng 
atom bomb beat the first large 


Even the 
wave of ex tes to Japan: and, indeed, 
both they and the bomb represent as- 
pects of a continuing chain reaction: 
extensions of the Americanization morc 
nildly begun by Deanna Durbin 


Gary Cooper movies. How is it possible 
ges of the new 


ever to forget the 
Hiroshima out of Alain Res 
shima Mon Amour, its portra 
atrocity after the final 
Coney Island rises on the ruins we have 
made, a parody of America out of the 
cold cinders? 

A thiid possibility seems to me more 
genuinely new, though viable only for a 
minority of Americans: those — chiefly 
Jews it turns out — who have not only 
been born in large American cities but 


s' Hiro- 


l of the 


also are descended from those who have 


never lived anywhere else on that con- 
tinent. For them there is another kind of 
exile, interior exile or in-patriation. In- 
deed, Jewish American writers. no matter 
how highbrow, have not by ° 
taste for expatriation or the por- 
trayal of expatriate heroes, Experts in 
exile, such writers have scen more clearly 
than others that the choice offered us is 
not between belonging and exile, but 
between one form of exile and another. 
And in ever larger numbers they have 
chosen to exile thems 


Mexico and 
Montana. 
After all, if it is a difference from what 
one is born to that js de: there 
is a greater difference between New York 
and Athens, Georgia, than between New 
York and Athens, Greece, or between 
Chicago and Moscow, Idaho. than be- 
tween Chicago апа Moscow, Russia. The 
first fictional treatment of this new mi- 
comedy invol 1 
Jew in a small university commu 
the West, has appeared in the form of a 
novel by Bernad Malamud 
New Life. But though Ma 
begins with exile, it ends with return: 
for like the expatriates of the past, the 
in-patriate of the present also ends by 
ing home, returning East as inevitably 
his forebears returned West. 
Aud yet the impulse to exile is not e 
tirely frui for the American high- 
brow finds in the pl: annot stay 
а sort of freedom. plus, most usually, 
magnifie a bohemia with 


s he c: 


view. Away from home, he is able to 


shed one set of responsibilities without 


assuming another, becoming in hij 
moral limbo —a functionless man, a 
privileged drifter, a stateless person. But 
outside the state, Aristotle long ago as- 
sured us, we are beasts or gods, not men. 
And if the stateless American on his best 
nights feels himself divine, there is 
ways the morning after when he cot 
fronts his beastliness in the glass. Yet he 
has, all the same, not only certain ob- 
vious smaller freedoms for which middle- 
brow and lowbrow envy him — the 
freedom to drink more than someone 
else thinks good for him, the freedom 
to use certain narcotics less dangerous to 
tobacco, the freedom to 
culinary or sexual tastes; 
he has the final freedom, the freedom 
from home. 

To be sure, the purity of his freedom is 
compromised a little by the fact that, no 
matter how hard he tries to resist, sooner 
or later the Guggenheim or Ford or 
Rockefeller or Bollingen Foundation will 
ation. But 
time when 
m running 
away from home tonight, if my father 
lets me have the car." Far more disturb- 
ing is the ex 'entual sense that he 
is condemned to what he thought he 
chose; that he cannot. unless he becomes 


insist on subsidizing his expat 


fled, a ain responsibilities he 
once believed he was glad to leave for 
all time. But what, after all, is the point 
of fleeing America to become a church 
warden in England? 

Yet it isa worse indignity to endure 
Ireedom by virtue of a half-despised pass- 
port among those who, without that 
passport, are not free at all; a greater 
torment to read each day in à tongue not 
one's own acco 


nts of elections in which 
one has not voted, and which cannot. 
therefore. ever really matter. For this 
indignity and this torment, not the 
charm of exotic landscapes nor the color 
of unfamiliar skies, not the beauty of 
foreign rivers nor the uncustomary pace 
and pattern of life abroad, not even the 
release to productive work can make 
amends. 

Slowly a burden of hatred grows in the 
exile: hatred for the lies, the officiousness, 
the lassitude, the petty malevolence, the 
very charm of those among whom he is 
condemned to he free. Especially the 
charm ¢ him, the charm eternally 
vays for sale; and tasting his 
bile, he looks in the mirror to sce if his 
ls are turning yellow. But one 
morning he wakes to fecl the. pang in 
liver abated, the knot in his bowels 
for he knows finally that he is 
really (тсе, free even to be unfree if he 
chooses, Iree to go home. 


"Anything interesting creep into your tent lately?" 


155 


PLAYBOY 


156 


MAN WITH A PAST 


past with the help of some contrivance.” 

By Professor Pickering 
went to the bookcase and took down a 
volume, “1 present at Lincoln's 
Gettysburg address.” he said with dig- 
nity. “J appear in this book of Mathew 
Bradys Civil War photographs.” He 
llipped open to the page in question and 
pointed to a figure in the audience. “It 
would be hard to п 
"Please make use of this magnify! 


of answe 


was 


Professor Dickson laughed heartily. 
“Good Lord, man, I trust you will not 
be so il yone 
buta close Г 
whatsoever. Why, everyone 
ture looks 1 

Professor 
pocket a bo 
box (large 


lvised as to offer this to a 
nd as evidence of anything 
a this pic 


"For God's sake! Why do 


(continued from page 115) 


id, “I register the number of years 
one I select 
the longitude and latitude of my des 
ination 


I have long wished to visit 
an England and have already 
ned the precise location of Sir 


eve 1 will drop in on Sir Francis. 
No doubt he will find your accent 
rather bizarre,” Professor Dickson si 
“to say nothing of your dress. 

“Yes, clothing is a problem, since 1 
intend to visit several widely different 
cultures, Т am wearing these slacks and 
this T-shirt in the hope that they will 
attract а minimum of attention 


you always have lo broadcast it?” 


ton on the side of the box. Professor 
Dickson was dumfounded to see his 
friend disappear before his eyes at the 
same instant that Sir Francis Bacon, tak- 
the air in his garden, was no less 
prised to see a str 
rosc bed. 
"How now, va 2" said Sir Fr 
"IW only trouble you for 
ering “Just tell me one thing. 
ou the author of the plays attributed 
n Shakespeare? 
"Of course по! icis said testily. 
"What ever gave you that crazy idea? 
They were all written by Eddie de Vere, 
17th Earl of Oxford.” 

Thank you,” said the professo - 
cral of my colleagues will be pained to 
hear i And with that he adjusted his 
liule box, pushed the button, and showed 


up on the steps of the Roma че 
on March 15, 41 nc., just in time to wit 
ness the stabbing of Jul n 


took place very much as Eddie de Vere 
had set it down. 

Thereafter, he ricocheted around in 
ancient history; it is hardly necessary to 
detail his adventures. It was while he was 
itching the building of the Great Pyra- 
mid at Giza that he resolved to take the 

ig plunge. How did things begin? The 
ins of man? The beginnings of life 
"M? He could always come back to 
these relatively modern time 

For his first stopover he set the m 
chine to take him back 500,000 ye 
and to set him in the African T: 
where the most recent. findings of 
anthropology had placed the 
traces of man's direct ancestors. 

Professor Pickering pressed the button. 

And that, for all practical. purposes, 
was the end of Professor Pickering. 

Did he tumble off a diff Fall prey to 
some prehistoric monster? Get his head 
knocked in by his xenophobic fellow 
man? No; h d safely and met with 
no physical mishap. 

What he had not known, how was 
that, as he moved farther and thi 
into the past, he was actually retracing the 
line of his forebears, backward through 
the ge ions, backward through the 
evolution of the т; So long as he 
had confined himself to historical times, 
his retreat down the evolutionary ladder 
was too slight to matter, and his ре 
id memory 


tc of knowledg 
aet; but when he took the 


year leap — 
Professor Pic 
scampered 


(emeritus now) 
"bly up the baobab tree, 
the o teed Ausiralopithecine 
ape in all Africa with bifocals, slacks and 
Tshirt — and a brain much too stupid 
to know what to do with that funny lite 
box in his pocket. 


HISTORY OF DANCING 


(continued from page 80) 
of lovely dancing,” and modern dance 
critics still invoke the name of the Greck 
muse Terpsichore in their reviews of 
“terpsichorean” performances. 
would be erroneous to 
Hellenic dances w 
and toe steps. In a 


h 


enjoyed 


species ol 
w Tun step in which girl 
soloists kicked their own bare buttock 
pink with the soles of their dainty feet. 

Other crowd pleasers were the gymno- 
paidiai, in which naked young men 


danced intricate wrestling movements, 
wl war d h soldiers mim- 
icked. It was Socrates’ 


opinion that the best dancers made the 
best warriors, and Sophocles danced in 
the chor n order to 
strengthen his sensc of the poctic meters 
— all of which had their origins in the 
dance, and are still described in terms of 
fect." The spondee, with its foot of 
two long syllables, takes its name from 
the solemn dance which accompanied a 
sponde, or drink offering to the gods. 
The the tripping 
frochaios, and poems written in the 
meter 
ithyphallic,” in allusion to the 
phallus which was ca 
processionals at the fes 
god. 

Large site facsimiles of the membrum 
virile evectus were. standard. equipment. 
for erotic satyr dances performed by trios 
comprised of one man and two women, 
and were worn like souveni at 
the Bacchanal where dru male 
celebrants danced lasciviously around 
ces macnads — the sacred “mad 
women" of the Dionysian cult. In im- 
perial Rome, where ongiastic dancing 
nd 
* 


trochee wa 


once 


of bawdy Bacchic hymns are 
huge 


drunken sex brawls. Contrary to popular 
belief, however, such erotic binges were 
not always typical of Rome. Indeed, the 
only dancing that appealed to the old 
Roman upper crust was the storytelling 
gesture dance of gods and heroes. But as 
spectacles and circuses became bigger and 
more gory under each succeeding Caesar, 
the pantomime adopted crime and hor- 
ror formats, and farces were laced with 
crotic ballets performed by women danc- 
crs who disrobed during the course of the 
sort of integrated striptease. 
r frenzied grinds and breast. vibra- 
tions were cheered by plebs and tired 
businessmen, while Juvenal reports that 
women were aroused by lewd dances of 
the kind used to express Pasiphae's hank- 
cring for intercourse with a bull. 


The ction of the early Church was 
onc of righteous wrath and condemna- 
tion. Converted to Christianity after a 
dissolute youth, Augustine, the sainted 
Bishop of Hippo. declared. “The dance 
is a circle with the devil in the center." 
But when people refused to give up their 
old fertility frolics, the Church fathers 
sought to make the dance symbolic of the 
joyous afterlife to come, when. in the 
words of Clement of Alexandria, “Thou 
shalt dau a ring together with 
th round Him Who is without 
beginni „ On saints’ days, cere- 
monial was often. conducted 
within the church, and lively funeral 
dances around the churchyard celebrated 
the rebirth of the dead in Paradis nce 
secular dancing was frowned upon as 
pagan. dancing in graveyards became а 
favorite outlet for peasants of the D; 
Ages. Haunted by fears of plague, famine 
g wis often obses 
sive. Epidemics of uncon 
ing broke out in town: 
have been attributed to mass ухе 


са 


rye used 


— a neuro- 
logical ailment which laymen still call 
"SL Vituss dance," in honor of the 
pation saint whose influence was sought 
prayers for the afflicted, Regardless of 
or cures, the grotesque - 
became associated in the minds 
of clergymen, poets s with the 
eternal dance of and church 
апа mortals 
linked arm in arm in a danse macabre. 
One theory has it that the word "maca- 
bre" was imported into Europe by the 
Crusaders, who filched the melancholy 
adjective from the Saracen makabr, me 


m 


death, 
murals showed skeletons 


y, brought. 
the form of duty- 
ancing girls, which they had picked. 
up in the East to entertain their guests 
with after-dinner belly dances. To the 
sensual strains of Arabic dance music 
within castle walls, were added the сама- 
nets, tambourines and fiery guitars of 
wandering gypsy tribes, who danced their 
у across medieval Europe. It was the 
gypsies formerly the “Gipcyans,” or 
“Egyptians” — who kept alive the ancient 
dance of joy in southern Europe, while 
peasants of the north danced out their 
fears and repressions in damp graveyards. 

In Provence, where the ideals of love 
and courdiness were sung by wandering 
troubadours, aristocrats and nobles 
formed “courts of lov па 
farandole апа branle. The branle, 
know 
g circle dance, and the 
d of rhythmic follow-the 
which a group of dancers joi 
and gaily tripped through gardens and 
over lawns. To promote the cause of 
personalized romance, some unsung gen- 


п as the French. brawl, was a sway- 


indole a 


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ius of Provence conceived the idea of 
breaking the group up into couples, who 
would dance side by side, holding hands. 
When, in the 18th Century, Provence 
became the scene of а bloody religious 
crusade, the aristocracy was virtually ex- 
terminated, but a sufficient number of 
nobles and troubadours escaped to carry 
the idea of couple dancing to the courts 
ny, Italy, France and England. 
The dance, which was called the estampie 
gai, swept all Europe. Servants and 
heayy-booted peasants copied the dance 
at frolics on the village green. Earthy 
leaps, swings and steps were added, and 
from these rustic variations courtly danc- 
ng masters created enough new dances 
to beguile knights and damsels for the 
next 500 years. 

Uncertain, though. are the origins of 
the courante, which seems to have in- 
volved a certain amount of genteel leap- 
ing, and the German Trotto, which was 
known France as the allemande — a 
name which still lingers on in the reper- 
toire of American squaredance figures. 
Also al amp- 
ing steps of 16th Century Spanish dances, 
which began with the canary dance, an 
Old World refinement of a wildly sexual 
funeral dance which Spanish cxplorers 
learned from the icken native 
girls of the Cai slands. Easily the 
us of all such imports was 
the Central American saraband, a dance 
of such unparalleled indecency that a 
Spanish law was passed in 1583 to pre 
vent people from humming its music. 
Jn one account, the saraband is described 
as a dance in which girls with castanets 
ind men with tambourines “exhibit in- 
decency in a thousand positions and 
gestures. They let the hips sway and the 
breasts knock together. They close their 
eyes and dance the kiss and the last 
fulfillment of lov 

Since Spanish dons and dames con- 
tinued to do the saraband on tie sly, 
dancing masters developed a legal no- 
knock version which was tame enough to 
bc danced in the courts of southern 
Europe. Its chief competitor was the 


N 


today are the staccato s 


three times in the and "with his 
knee as support, lifts her up high and 
lets her down again." In the Germanic 
nations, lady-ifting was practiced by 
rakes of all ranks, who hoisted their part- 
s aloft by placing their hands 
mately beneath the “busk,” or corset. 
Moralists clucked their tongues at the 
“shameful touching.” and ducked again 
when their gemütlich compatriots made 
the remarkable discovery that couples 
need not dance side by side, but could 
spin and hop around the floor while 
locked in a close embrace! The dance, 
which was called the volta, excited the 
interest of even the most sophisticated 
Frenchmen. 


In the New England of America. how- 


ever, the st ed settlers at Plym- 
owth were distressed to find that the 
Indians not only danced on Sunday, but 


leaped and stamped about “like Anticks.” 
Worse yet, in 1625, one Thomas Morton 
on-Puritan plantation at 
Merry Mount with free beer aud dancing 
n 80-foot Maypole. In the то: 
ing condemnation that followed, Morton 
and his men were accused of setting up 
"Stynking Idol,” and ing the 
Indean women for their consoi acing 
and frisking togither (like so many 
or furies rather), and worse prac- 
which smacked of “ye madd Bac- 
More moderate opinions 
ported from the mother country 
with the arrival of the Reverend John 
Cotton, in 1633: “Dancing (yea though 
mixt) 1 would not ве 
reasoned, with appropriate quotes from 
Scripture. “Only lascivious dancing to 
wanton ditties, and amorous gestures and 
wanton dalliances . The majority 
soberly agreed, and by the end of th 
17th Century the Puritan penchant. for 
self-improvement led to the recognition 
of dancing as a social discipline, and 
dancing schools were opened in Bosto 
ive. Persons” taught “Decency 
ior” to the young. 

. Samuel Pepys visited the 
court of Restoration, Er ad, and wit- 
nessed "corants" and French dances so 
“rare” and subtle that they quickly 
“grew tiresome.” The ultimate in specta- 
tor boredom was yet to come, however, 
in the form of the French minuct—a 
folk dance of Poitu, which p 
ing masters refined into a pa 
inty steps, chivalrous bows 
curtsics. Lacking both vitality 


round 


the minuet proved to be the dancing 
masters“ most lucrative creation — a 


choreographic clockwork that provided 
lifetime careers for three generations of 
snufl-sniffing sycophants, Treatises were 
written on the proper turning of the 
wrist. Sixty pages were required to de- 
scribe the intricacies of the gentlema 
bow, and dancing became an exhi 
of rhythmic etiquette. 

Long belore the French Revolution 
put an end to aristocratic airs and graces, 
the nobles of Versailles, themselves, grew 
weary of the decorous minuet, and 
promptly turned to other d s soon 
as the opening minuet had been danced 
for the sake of form. In Colon 
ica, a typical dance program was “ 
minuets one round; івы third 
reels: and last of all country-dances." The 
belief that our forefathers spent. their 
evenings dancing minuets may be attrib- 
uted largely to Ye-Olde-Tea-Roome type 
historical pageants, which depict colonial 
Americans as superrefined stuffed shirts. 
Actually, 18th Century Americans were 
the liveliest dancers in the world, 


асс» a 


among 


ready to step out with both feet wh 
the fiddles struck up The Virginia Reel 
or The Devil's Dream. 

Toward the end of the century, more 
and more Americans were choosing part- 
ners for a secular square-order dance, the 
quadrille, which came to the States by 
way of England. Books appeared outlin- 
ng the and simple "prompts 
were called out by a leader at every as- 
sembly. The original French terms were 
given in Anglo-. an approximations 
— and thus, chassé glided into the lan- 
guage as “sashay,” and dosd-dos or 
back-to-back” became the familiar 
do si do. 
In Germany, lively checked Früuleins 
were rendering their Herren blissfully 
speechless with the eloquence of an in- 
vigorating new version of the volatile old 
volta. Now called the waltz — from wäl- 
zen, meaning “to roll" or “revolve” — the 
new Danube dance divided the Western 
world into those who found it an endless 
delight and those who considered it a 
source of ternal damnation. For mod- 
erns who wonder why the waltz was once 
called "naughty," history offers ап cyc- 
report by Frust Moritz Arndt of 
it was rolled and revolved in 
1804, nity of Erlangen: “The 
dancers held up the dresses of their 
partners very high so that they should 
not trail and be stepped on, wrapped 
them tightly in this shroud, bringing 
both bodies under one covering, as close 
together as possible, and thus the turn- 
ing went on in the most indecent posi- 
ions; the hand holding the dress lay 
hard against the breasts pressing lasc 
ously at every movement; the girls, 
meanwhile, looked half mad and ready 
to swoon . . ." Over the protests of 
aroused moralists, the waltz whirled 
across Europe in sprightly three-quarter 
time. By 1797, it was responsible for the 
opening of 684 dance halls in Paris alone, 
“Une valse! Oh encore une valse! is the 
constant cry" Arndt reported 
years In England, where it was de- 
nounced as “the most degenerating dance 
for more than a hundred years,” Byron 
penned a lordly pacan to the “endearing 
waltz,” which could “wake to wantonness 
the willing and permitted hands 
to “freely range in public sight. 

While breast: pressing and skirtlifting 
never official features of the Amer- 
still raised the mor 
1 con 
dance of too loose a 
character, and unmarried ladies should 
refrain from it in public and. private," 
opined The Gentleman and Lady's Book 
о] Politeness, in 1833. "Very young mar- 
ried ladies, however, may be allowed to 
waltz in private balls, if it is very seldom 
id with persons of their acqua 
In 1811, Polk was nominatcd foi 
Presidency, but bluenoses of 


seven 


ter. 


waltz is a 


the 
all political 


ed in the hue and cry 
a sandalous new fore 
polka. Described by one horrified Amer 
ican critic 
' ıhe polka was rumored to he th 
ition of one Anna Slezikova, а Bo- 
hemian peasant girl, who improvised its 
steps out of sheer joy in the сапу 1830s 
Introduced. into New York society, the 
polka became the pet pastime of the 
American haut monde at Newport and 
Saratoga, where the abandoned display 
of debutante ankles caused the New York 
Herald 10 describe the happy hopping 
dance as one of the most “scandalous cx- 
hibitions ever exhibited outside the com- 
mon gardens of P 
The polka was forbidden to be danced 
a the presence of Queen Victoria, and 
was excluded from all state functions at 
the White House Quadrilles were 
danced at President Lincoln's inaugural 
ball, but with the firing on Fort Sumter, 
the White House ballroom lights went 
out, and Washington became patrioti- 
cally austere. As the war dragged on, how- 
ever, people tuned lo g 
s for relief from the tedium 
There were Enli 
d Patent Office balls — and. ulti- 
balls and 
s at which promi 
s danced the "kiss qu 


as "a kind of insane Tiu 


If the kiss quadrille was ever danced as 
the Rockies, it was more likely 
Smooch and Swi 
billie 


Гат west 
to be 
for homesteaders. 
farmers and cowboys had long 
given the quadrille a vital American 
s evident in the titles of 
"square dance” tunes and figures: 
Birdie in a Cage, Old. Arkansaw, Tum- 
bleweed, Steal a Little Pe Chase the 
Goose and Ladies Choice — Cheat or 


town as 


tootin’ West, the cow- 
boy's swinging partners were most likely 
fessional dancehall girls aud 
ladies of casy virtue, who 
hustled drinks for the house and doubled 
in brass beds as prairie prostitutes. But, 
from all accounts, the most notorious 
* dives of the period were in New 
where 


“waiter 


concert-saloon 
danced the highkic 
it was originally performed 
with a multitude of fancy founa 
а total absence of pants. 

Throughout most of the United States 
ale form was bustled 


The “indecent” polka was refined into 
a modestly gay routine, and the once 
waltz emerged as the genteel 
ion of modern society danc- 


eties the waltz was 
favorite. "Casey would 
v blonde’ 


ersal 


the 
waltz with a strawbe 


un 


nd. 12 years Later, in 1906, icrican 
blondes, brunettes and redheads were 
still singing Waltz Me Around Again, 


Willie. 
айу in 


the tune suddenly 
and Willie's sweet- 
beat from the 
tep than Waltz, 
pressed the new American prefer- 
ence for a syncopated march tempo that 
opened the way for the turkey trot, cake 
walk and bu Couples in New 
York, Ch adelphia, Boston and 
San Francisco strutted and stepped to 
peppy ragtime rhythms which white mu- 
sicians had borrowed from New Orleans’ 
Negro marching bands, Outraged oldsters 
bemoaned the fact that young people 
didit waltz anymore, and professional 
prudes were quick to trace the relation- 
ship between syncopation and sin. The 
Negro musicians who played in New 
Orleans’ funeral processions and carnival 
les also performed in the brothels of 
Storyville — they played twosteps for 
rts, onc-steps for whores, and obliged 
in Street “specialty” dancers with 
of the hootchy-kootchy! 
The sin snoopers. who were short on 
historical perspective, denounced the 


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hootchy-kootchy as а symptom of 20th 
Century depravity, and blamed the bawdy 
nce on Little Egypt, whose un- 
s the main Midway 


position at Chicago in 1893. The "cooch," 
as it came to be called, was so ba: 
appeal to a generation struggling to 
break free of Victorian restraints, that it 
was widely imitated by professionals and 
amateurs alike. In London, a dancer 
named Maud Allen wiggled her way to 
world fame by appearing in vaudeville 
as Salome — complete with harem cos- 
tume and John the Baptist's head on a 
platter. Imported to America, the Scrip- 
tural squirm was such a success that girl 
dancers by the hundreds rented prop 
heads of St. John, and set themselves up 
alome acts. Over the next five years, 
Salomes of all shapes and sizes strove 
to outcooch each other. Theaters were 
ded, Salomes were jiggled off to 
and burlesque bulls claimed а so-called 
first” when a dancer named Odell went 
all the way by tearing olf a striptease on 
the stage of the American Theater in 


аз 


New York, in 1907, With the premiere of 
Richard Strauss’ Salome, ope 
donned soup-and-fish to ogle M 


ions in “The Dance of 
the Seven Veils’ coloratura cooch 
which was so mercilessly satirized by Eva 
Tanguay, that vaudeville Salomes began 
to draw more laughs than applause. 
Within two years, the Salome bit went 
bust. Dance bands played Sadie Salome 
Go Home, and the shelves of theatrical 
prop shops were lined with unemployed 
heads of John the Baptist. 

As America swung into 1911 with 
Alexander's Ragtime Band, the first furor. 
over the new dances began to die dow: 
The two-stepping maxixe and the snug- 
glecluich bunny hug were just begi 
to be upgraded from “immoral” to 
gar," when prudish ears pricked up at 
the sound of a new double-entendre 
dance ditty — Everybody's Doin’ It Now! 
Doin' wh the lyrics акей, “The 
turkey uot!” Looking back down the 
years, it's difficult to discover why the 
energetic one-step caused such an uproar. 
"The reasoning seemed to be that if every- 
body was doin’ it, the turkey trot must be 
pleasurable, and anything pleasurable 
that occurred while a man and woman 
were standing that close together must be 
immoral, Since it was impossible to eradi 
cate the ragtime trot by ranting, pressure 
was applied. wherever stuffiness had the 
upper hand. One Broadway producer 
posted a notice that chorus girls caught 
dancing the turkey trot would be dis- 
missed, and the Ladies’ Home Journal 
eportedly fired 15 girl employees for 
doin’ it during lunch hour. But daytime 
dancing was on the rise. Housewives were 
to attend afternoon 
in public ballrooms, and 
fashion 


den's нашу gy 


shows with “tango teas.” 

Denounced by the Federation of 
Women's Clubs in 1914, the “degra 
tango had already seized Europe 
passionate Latin grip. In London, a char- 
acter played by the glamorous Elinor 
Glyn took stage center to describe how 
ladies of quality were “clasped in the 
arms of incredible scum from the Argen- 
tine, hall castes from Mexico, and far- 
ceurs from New York, decadent male 
things they would not receive in their 
antechambers before this madness set in.” 
In America, a wave of adultery suits and 
blackmail scandals alerted hard-working 
s to the fact that many wives were 
ing ballroom gigolos in their bed. 
bers for two-timing tango matinees. 
П were made, and most 
middle-class dance palaces dropped the 
ts in the interest of pre- 
ng the American home. 

а dancing at the better hotels con- 
tinued as a favorite afternoon diversion 
of the wealthy smart set, however, and 
зу cabaret dance teams set the style 
for both dancing and evening w. 
1914, the turkey trot had become pa 
Couples w 


e dancing Irene and Vernon 
Castle's “Castle walk,” the old n 
and three variations of the tango. 
ing favorites were the aeroplane waltz, 
the Negro drag and walkin’ the dog. In 
1916, bands added guitars and ukuleles 
10 lend. aloha atmosphere to a st 
-type novelties with titles like 
Yacka Hula Hickey Dula and Yicki Hacki 
Wicki Wackie Woo. But the term most 
Americans were just beginning to be con- 
scious of was a new wicki-wackie word 
spelled "јав," or “jaz.” Some said it came 
from Chicago. Others said it was an old 
New Orleans Creole word, meaning "to 
speed up." A strong case was made for the 
theory that it first came into usc in Vicks 
burg, in 1910, when dancers cheered on 
Alexander's Ragtime Band with shouts 
of Come on, Chazz!” — the “Chazz,” or 
“Chas.” being an abbreviation of Alex- 
ander's first name, Charles. Still others 
maintained that its roots lay in the Arabic 
the Hindi jazba, 
" and jaiza, an 
the rumble of 


n tribal term for 
it drums." 

, if not in fact, jazz was all 
these things and more. But speculation as 
to the origin of its name was cut short by 
the rumble of distant cannon in Europc. 
To the accompaniment of stirring song: 
and-dance hits by Irving Berlin and a 
versatile hoofer ned George M. Cohan, 
America marched off to war. In service- 
men's clubs and caba: in New York. 
London, Paris and Pocatello, doughboys 
and gobs grabbed partners and danced to 
Goodbye Broadway, Hello France. Early 
in 1918, the king of the pre-War ballroom 
dancers, Vernon Castle, was killed in a 
ary plane crash. Ragtime and the 
Castle walk were “old hat" and the 


Armistice was celebrated at Reisenweber's 
New York cabaret to exciting new sounds 
played by the Origi nd Jass 
Band. With the new music came new 
dances. Couples circled the floor with a 
snappy fox trot, and two girl d 
from Chicago — Gilda Gray and Bee 
Palmer — introduce the country t0 а 
torsoshaking fertility fling, called the 
immy-shewabble.” Believed to have 
been “invented” in the bawdy bistros of 
San Francisco's Barbary Coast, the 20th 
nock- 
yelps of 
s таре of 


nation than 
little Belgium. 
In the 1919 edition of the Ziegfeld 
Follies, Bert Williams made a show-stop. 
ping plea for the end of Prohibition, 
when he complained You Can't Make 
Your Shimmy Shake on Tea. But in clubs 
and cabarets, the “real stuff” was available 
to trusted customers, and couples shim- 
mied and fox-trotted on whiskey and gin, 
as the b ed Ain't We Got Fun? 
" was the flapper's gig- 
ed rejoinder, as she pressed her body 
tight against her partner for а session of 
“buuon shining” on the crowded floor. 
C were removed in the ladies room 
and checked Гог the тем of the night. 
“The men won't dance with you if you 
r a corset,” the girls explained — and 
neither were the men inclined to d. 
with a "back number" who refused to 
"pet" or take a friendly nip of hooch 
from a fellow's hip flask. “The low-cut 


w 


arc born of the Devi 
are carrying the present and future gen 


erations to chaos and destruction,” the 
President of the University of Florida 
exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger 
at the immoral hussies who were to be- 
come toda y-haired grandmothers. 

"The American phobia against dancers 
in short skirts was extended to include 
even the classical ballet tutu of the world- 
famous Anna Pavlova, whose tours were 
threatened with banning unless she 
“chose to wear longer skirts." Defiance of 
the law, and а general conventions-be- 
damned attitude marked the 192: 


barefooted mother of the modern dance, 
who outraged lience of Boston 


scarf, sans undergarments. "Nudity 
truth; it ds art," Isadora insisted in a 
adal all but 


ew, but the sc 


later 
wrecked her American carce 

Since the demise of the vaudeville 
Salomes, tap and rhythm dancers had 
moved into theatrical headline spots, and 
agents classified hoofers according to type 
— blackface, whiteface, Irish, Dutch, 
rough, neat, acrobatic and grotesque. The 
teps of the tap dance had been im- 
ed by Southern Negrocs from white 
jigs and clogs names of the jazzed 


nte: 


"Oh, for Реге? sake, Ruth — why can’t you just accept 
being a golf widow the way other women do?!” 


PLAYBOY 


jig steps 1 
vor: buck, wi 
log, hitch 


1 a distinctly down-home fi 
hop. falling off the 
rubber legs. and the old 


soft shoe. Double soles duplicated the 
slapstick sound of a poor plantation 
worker's dance in shoes with loose sole 


wb the sand dance was born of som 
long-forgotten shuffle on a gritty c 
floor. 

The rhythmic impact of jazzdancing 
о performers in Shuffle Alons jogged 
the Broadway musical stage out of its 
i m ver- 
dance 


bi 


ad limber, 
ac in for 
. though per- 
willing to grant that 


the faststepping с 
its share of condemı 
ceptive prudes wer 


its breakaway buovancy had greatly re- 
duced “button shining, 


leave both sheik and sheba more pooped 
than passionate. Considered more objec- 
tionable was the fa pping black 
bottom, a copyrighted creation presented 
as “the new twister” in 1996, In reply to 
m of its ally descr 
ts for the dance explained 
that the name referred to the muddy 
hottom of the Suwannee River, rather 
than dark-skinned rumps. No onc ac- 
cepted the fanciful etymology for a mo- 
ment, however. and in England it was 
called “the bl. c" — or, with more 
dubious decor the black bed." 

sed by comme 
соругй 
nd performers conspired 
с of novelty dances, 
nd the new 
‚ Most were too complicated to 
however, and only the varsity 


critic 


the 


to invent 


new 
such as the sugar foot strut 


low dow! 
catch on 


drag enjoyed a short semester of favor. 
When young Charles Augustus Lind- 


bergh made his historic solo hop to Paris 
in 1997, jubilant e pilots and 
their high-flying Mappers fox-trotted to 
Lucky Lindy. Prosperity made for. posi- 
tive thinking, and sweet “di 
is being pu: xhl 
tho 
hugely popular "Pops" Whiteman. Three 
years later, in the wake of the Wall Su 
Crash, tempos slowed. skirts and h 
styles grew longer, and dancers dung to 
each other as though fo rance. For 
a quick escape from economic anxiety, 
beat the supercolossal 
dance spectacles that Hollywood began 
dishing up with t t of sound 
films in 1999, when | Pennington, 
“The Girl with the Dimpled Knees,” was 
scen to Tiptor Through the Tulips with 
a bevy of beauteous chorines in Gold 
Diggers of Broadway. Under the direc- 
tion of Busby Berkley, other girls with 
dimpled knees, cheeks and chins moved 
in суслі es to form hum: 
Girls danced out of clouds in wind: 
id tapped 


hed by 


те 


could 


dy 


foun- 


tain 


nd imitited trains. Whole battalions of 
Is lay on their backs and were photo- 
graphed from above, as their arms and 
s formed floral patterns that changed 
into wheels and stars. 

No less numbing to the senses were the 
awesome precision drills of the 32 girl 
Rockettes at the Radio City Music Hall. 
In 1034, New York spectator sports who 
could afford a movie date took their girls 
to the Music Hall to enjoy the top-hat 
sophistication of a new Hollywood dance 
team — Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. 
While the professional intricacies of the 
continental and the croci were not 
easily mastered, hou ty imitations of 
re-Rogers technique were good 
ghs, and the musical suggestion of 
ay places helped to popularize Lat- 
type tempos and dances. Though the 
rhumba had already arrived with New 
York's international set, and The Pranut 


Vendor had been a hit in 1931, most 
Americans approached the seductive 
Cuban dance as though й were а coochy 


fox trot, and party wags retitled the tune 
The Penis Bender. 
More to the mass taste was the fam 
fox-trot beat of commercial dance bands 
led by such big-time radio "maestros" as 
Den Bernie and Rudy Valle gc pub- 
lic ballrooms competed for Depression 
dollars with bi ime bands, while тапу 
smaller operators switched to a dime 
dance policy. Couples were welcome, but 
the appeal was largely to footloose males 
who could hi ‘glamorous hostess 
a turn around the floor, just as they mi; 
hire a cab for a spin around the block 
— for which reason the girls were called 
dancers“ The room 
device, by Га псе ао 
— an endurance contest in which compet- 
g couples danced. walked and stumbled 
around a dance floor for and 
months on end. Most. marathons were 
rigged, and all traded on a brand of low- 
grade show-business hoke that. brought 
audiences back night after night to root 
for “the brave little йез.” 

Among the major box-office anr 
of 1983 was the Streets of Paris side show 
at the Chicago Century of Progress Ex- 
position, whe dancer named 
Rand was offering glimpses of her pink- 
toned torso through the artful m 
ion of a p: flulfy plumes. 
по! success Of Miss В 
n dance touched off an in 
and-feathers fad. among girl perform. 
the new post Repeal night clubs, and 
the resourceful Sally switched to а сор 
righted bubble dance for an enga 
at Broadway's Paradise Restaurant, where 
she performed behind a transparent 
screen to protect her bubbles from the 
pinpricks of practical jokers at ringside. 
Less cautious artists continued to shake 
their fans in the small 
along New York's 52nd Street, 
they wer изайу di 


weeks 


ictions 


clubs clustered 
where 


placed by groups 


ev 


of fully clothed male musicians who 
played a new style of jazz, called “swing.” 
Swing, like all c; . was music 
for dancing. Ler's Dance was the theme 
of the Benny Goodman band, and in the 
vanguard of the new movement w 

such robust ballroom veterans as Louis 
Armstrong, Louis Prima, Fats Waller, 
Rel Хого. Manone and Red 


McKei iting. per- 
haps, were the carefully contrived ar- 
rangements of Glen Kemp. 
K; Kayser and the Slick or 


“hep.” the swingy style inspired dancers 
to cut loose from gliding fox-trot forms. 
such as the westchester and the peabody. 
Couples “jumped for happy” 
sce kind of jig, called the 


Crepe-soled saddle shoes 

bounce and served as shock absorbers for 
the jazzy jumpers, who soon earned 
the name of “jitterbuys.”” Breal 


and fancy swing cuts widened the 
betwer 
icc “shag” motif. were 
vssshuflling "Suzy-Q," ai 


ласа the side- 
La tricky little 


ep with one waggit vised. 
alled “iruckin’.” Considered new and 


novel, the strange jitterbug japes elicited 
expressions of despair Irom post-Depres 
sion worry warts, though every movement 
the "hepcats" made could be found in 
the aforementioned. Natya Sastra, What 
was “peckin’,” for instance, but the old 
Prakam pila, in which the neck moved 
backward and forward like a she pi 
geons, “U To denote You and 1; 
folk dan particulate m 
ul uttered by а 


gal embrace 


Jitterbugs were not apt to spend the 
time browsing through the Natya Sastra 
howev “gates,” and 
as everyone knew, also the 


nickname for 
tel” “Sec you 
the hepeat’s "hello 


who was't jive,” 


пуонс 


and preferred sweet sticky 
iekey” Ame as “hooluutty,” Vari 
ety declared. and cited the fad for a new 
da inated by the Gullah Negroes 


coast, which required “ 
ag power and fannying. 
Called the "big apple," the ved 
swing dance inspired the creation of the 
little pear and the litle peac 
t proved even more epheme 
the English “lambeth walk." 
In 1938, hepeats danced to the humor 
ous sound of The Flat Foot Floogie, “with 
а floyfloy,” but they no longer jived 
with the same ;ouples cooled 
their socks by hanging around the band 
id, listening to musicians improvise 
and many went dancing mainly to enjoy 
the impromptu jam sessions, which Benny 
Goodman built into a nightly feature 
with his trio and quartet. While watch- 
nd Lionel Hampton 


* Reason: It has much more strength of character, color, and 
flavor than other beer or ales. Hence it is not recommended 
for women. This is not discrimination, but recognition of 


fact: males usually like Our Product, females rarely. 


] © 1963 SICKS' RAINTER BREWING CO., SEATTLE, WASHINGTON 


163 


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100 enthralled to 
and welcomed il 
id listen when the Goodman band 
le its 1938 concert appearance at Car- 
egie Hall. As the Thirties rode to a 
close, good swing was ear music, and no 
one over 15 would admit to being a jit 
terbug. Glenn Milley could still put a 
pany in the mood for dancing with 
Tuxedo Junction, hut serious. students 
jazz spent their time listening to old 
nie Beiderbecke records. 

X 1910 fox trot, 
from Madame La Zongu, extolled the 
Парана Кисе freedom of the rhumba and 
the =the latter ан Afro-Cuban 
chain dance, in which dancers lined up 
in single fle with their hands on the 
shoulders of the person in front, 
n with 
The conga, w 


dancers were 


work, 


chance to sit 


ol 


called Six Lessons 


cong; 


snaked around the re 


two, three, ile 
illy рор s biggest w 
calé-society set who doted on the L: 
exotici of bands like Xavier Cugat’s. 
But when the smart New York clubs shut 
down for the night, the conga was Гог 
tten, Slumming sop! tes took cabs 
lo Harlem hot spots, where the alter- 
hours floor show would feature a line of 
«hori ı1 soloists 
who would jive up to your tible and 
simulate coitus with a ar phallus 
and an empty highball glass turned on 
its side. 

For flesh fanciers who couldn't afford 
to мау up all night, the Thirties had 
ollered “continuous burlesk,” with such 
dancing strip stars as Gypsy Rose. Lec, 
Хип Corio anl Margie Нан. Queen of 
the nonstop grinds was jiggle boomed 
Georgia Sothern, while “the ancient 
breast dance was the muscular specialty 
of king-sized Carrie Finnell, who could 
make her bounteous bosoms rotate dock- 

and counterclockwise, one at a 
Poor in tilling tandem. In New 
York, big-time "burleycuc 
de 


w th the 


nude cs and nude 


wise 


was reformed 
м out ol the theaters in the late Thir- 
ties, and "exotic" dancers were 
ly World War H asylum in the less 
successful swing clubs of 52nd Street, 
where they strutted and stripped for the 
soldicr-and-sailor. trade 

During the war y 
lindy, the rhumba 
ED ı1 numbers with 
10 hold a girl in their arms. Stepwise, all 
was salus quo, save for an occi 
outburst of the Pennsylvania or 
Barrel Polka, and the discovery of the 
American square dance by Eastern Gly 
stationed in the West. Elements of the 
square dance were corvalled by Agnes De 
Mille in her cowboy ballet, Rodeo — 
rousing 1912 success, which earned her 
the choreographic assignment to the 
Broadway musical Oklahoma! Similarly, 
the big-city jazz style of Jerome Robbins’ 
ballet Fancy Free was apparent in his 
choreography for the 194 musical hit, 
On the Town. Equally ur ad unique 


s, the fox trot, the 
ul waltz served all 


and ser 


n excuse 


the characte 
tapped out in th 
and w. 


was оп Gene Kelly 
title role of Pal Joc 
movie; pplauded his 


ш debut with Judy 


rtime 
Hollywood. danci 


oers 


Garland. Teamed with tapmaster Fred 
Astaire. the glamorous Ria Hayworth 
drew wolf whistles from armed-forces 


audicnoes, as did the lithesome legwork 
of blonde Betty Grable, whose photos in 
GI foot lockers qualified her for the role 
ol Ame favorite pin-up girl. 
Victory in Europe and Japan did noth- 
to diminish the American interest й 
pretty dancing girls. but the post War 
period was far from hool-nuuy. Among 
avantginde musicians, the wartime beat 
of boogie-woogie was replaced by the 
improvised non sequiturs of bebop — an 
introspective kind of jumpless jazz that 
left dancers Martooted. The new перса, 
now called “hipsters,” didn't dance. ‘They 
dug the sounds, and cooled it with an 
occasional shrug or finger snap. The 
physical and emotional responses. that 
dancing required. were "neo-ickey," or 
"square" — as were the "nowhere" audi 
ences who were picking up on the clas 
cal ballet kick, and the aging jitterbugs 
of yesteryear who sat at home with their 
new TV 
Ballrooms, | 
imo a st 
New York. a growing Puerto Ric 
lation supported 
rooms specializi 
the Cuban m: 
mi — dances which North Amer 
cam dance instructors adapted for m 
consumption. But most of the country 
had kissed off Latin tempos with South 
Take Ht Away, and mainland 
club owners of the carly Fifties couldu't 


ight clubs went 


of economic collapse, T 
n popu- 


ngu 


Am 


ica, 


m ıt on the cultish devotion of the 
few to keep а small rhumba combo work- 
ing. The new nodance jazz thrived mod- 
estly on recordings issued by small record 
companies, while big record companies 
ut their dance-dise output to a minimum, 
and plugged for million-copy sales with 
recordings by мате vocalists. By 1953, 
the disastrous unemployment. situ 
dance-band musicians led. Down 
Beat to launch a campaign to promote 
dancing on the college and high school 
levels. Kins DON'T KNOW HOW TO DANCE, 
headline quoted bandleader Stan Kenton 
s saying. "Every place we played during 
the past year, I noticed that the younger 
couples, for the most part, didn't seem to 
know what they were doing on the floor 
— particularly when we played numbers 
y real beat, rhy 
imped. ensi 


1 cou 


ion 


ies wei 


gested, but the ultimate cure lay in the 


bottom category of Down Beats biweekly 
current record. rel 


breakdown of 
“Rhythm and Blue 

In 1953, the rhythm-and-blues classifi 
cation served to segregate the solid, roll 


ing beat of Negro popular music from 
the integrated upper echelons of “jazz, 
and the white igements of the 
commercially "popular." Its artists were 
mostly unknown, and titles like Brown 
Skin Butterball, Poon Tang and. Rock, 
Rock, Rock were played by small-station 
disc jockeys who aimed at the Negro 
market, When it became apparent that 
teenagers of all races were tuning in on 
the rowdy record shows, white d. js began 
spinning the same 45s. The rhythms were 
so compelling that dancers couldn't help 
rocking, and when the racial distinctions 
of rhythmeandblues broke down, the 
rolling two-beat tempo and all its lindy- 
based dance variations were lumped. 10- 
gether as "rock ‘n’ roll. 

Parents, teachers, reli 
tained mu: set 
over the "barba 


ous leaders and 
up a loud wa 
new but. from 
an historical point of view, rock "n' roll 
represented a healthy rev ion of 
the age-old urge to dance. By late 1956, 


record companies were working three 
tisy the mul 


shifts to sa million-dollar 
demand for rock-n-roll records, danci 
schools reported an upsurge in business, 
and rug manufacturers noted a trend to 
area rugs that could be rolled up for 
dancing. A quickie, low-budget film. 
called Rock Around the Clock, rang up 
a threemillion-dollar profit, and when 
New York's Paramount Theater com- 
bined the premiere of Don't Knock the 
Rock with a rock-'n-roll stage show, teen- 
ge fans began lining up at the box of- 
fice at four л.м. The riotous behavior of 
fans in Boston and other cities made 
rock ir roll synonymous with juvenile 
delinquency, but the American 
tempo struck а 
rhythm 
over, Within a 
Germany and Jap 


new 


year, nd. France, 
an began to develop 
their own rock'n'roll music, and Russian 
youths were beating it out high, wide 
and Amerikanski to black-market record- 
igs of Hound Dog cut on old X-ray 
plates. 

In 1959, Sovict authoritics were still 
denouncing the Russian rock ‘n’ rollers 
ds." "toadstools" and dupes of the 
ntral Intelligence Agency, 
when Premier Khrushchev startled the 
Western world with a front-page rebuke 
of Hollywood for inviting him to witness 
the filming of a modestly dressed versi 
of the cancan. According to dancin: 
Shirley MacLaine, however, Khrushchev 
really enjoyed watching the old French 
dance, but hadn't dared to admit it be- 
cause Mrs. К. was present and frowning 
“He may bang his UN desk with his 
shoe,” Miss MacLaine mused, “but, just 
like any other husband, he chickens out 
when his wife catches him getting too 
bright-eyed — girlwise 

In shopping around for old dances to 
censure, the Khrushchevs, or any other 


could have tal 


en 
sexinspired 


ners to America, 
their pick of just about ever 
the world has ever produced. 
little briefing on symbolic ges 
tures, Americans and their guests could 
sit in a state of perpetual shock at ethnie 
obscure fertility 
„ Africa, Poly- 
nesia East and West Indies. 
Night clubs and hotel rooms oflered op- 
portunities to become outraged over the 
Hawaiian hula, The ancient North Afri 
can belly dance invited outbursts of 
dignation several ti 
resta 
A visit to 
tain to be 
gestive demonstr 


and the 


ny ballroom wa 
rded with at least two su 
tions of the Latest l 


Indian saraband, the pachanga and the 
ch cha — the first a courtship caper i 
which the gentleman gallops off on a 
make-believe pony and the second a 
funsy ollshoot of dhe fertility-charged 
mambo, On the stage and in motion pic 
tures, ballerinas in brief tutus performed 
dance dramas that had their origins in 


the kissing, teasing boy-gitl balleti ol the 
15th And. if 
enough, there was still the whole ba 
footed, Freudian field of the modern art 
dance that had sprung up since Isadora 
ly experiments with neo 
Grecian scarves. 

The fact that all such dance forms 
were no longer shocking to Americ 
may be attributed to the speed with 
which dances tend to become assimilated 


Centur this weren't 


as 


into the culture, Persons who were 
ed by the primitivism of rock 
roll one year were, 12 months late 


ixiously phoning ticket brokers in the 
hope of procuri couple of scats to 
Broadway's rock'n'roll version of the 
Romeo and Juliet romance: West Side 
Story. A couple of years later, in Octo- 
ber 1961, many of the same cultured 
crowd could be found standing in linc 
outside а noisy little rock^n"roll rendez- 
vous on New York's West 45th Street, 
impatiently waiting for a chance to get 
inside and dance a new shimmy-shewab- 
bling hootchy-kootchy, called the "twist. 
With the twist, the history of dancing 


165 


PLAYBOY 


breaks into the bold. black print of 

recent headlines: GAY NIGHT CLUB DER- 
SHES TWIST . . . CAFÉ SOCIETY VOYAGES 

WEST OF FIFTH AVENUE TO PURSUE FAD — 

PEPPERMINT LOUNGE PROVIDES REQUIRED 

ROCK N. ROLL . , . GOVERNOR TWH 

KEEP FIT . €. . NEW JE 

Twists 18 HOURS . . SOPHIA'S TWIST GAVE 

STUDIO GANG A TURN - . . THE TWIST TAKES 

WASHINGTON . . . JACKIE TWISTS мес 


GIVES TWIST ROYAL TREATMENT AT PALACE 
BALL . IN PARIS IT'S “LE TWEESTT 

WARSAW WIGGLES. . . TWISTERS GIVE TOKYO 
sew TREMORS, As the Пахш popped 
and reporters scurried to scoop the names 
of notables seen twisting at the Pep- 
permint ge the history of the 
twist was already being snowed under 


Lour 


bei 
rd of publicity releases. Amon 
rifiable data w 


by a blizz 
the more or less v 
fact that a rock'n'roll singer 
1 had recorded a 
called The Twist five years before 
that a young singer Irom Philadelphia, 
who worked under the nom de disc of 
Chubby Checker, had been plugging the 


song and dance around the country. 
Amidst all the fannyshaking rump: 
other old-time Philadelphians of 18 and 


19 recalled doing the twist in their 
youth, when it was a purely local. phe- 
nomenon known as the madison: 

The facts, shaky as they were, ended 
there. But in the fall of 1961, the twist 
was making history by the minute. Never 
since the beginning of time had a dance 
craze spread so rapidly and through so 
апу levels of society. At the Peppermi 
Lounge and the Wagon Wheel, ki 
jeans and toreador pants were given the 
hip by VIP posteriors and socially promi- 
nent derrieres. Class distinctions 
cultural barriers were twisted down охе 
night, and a group of lead 
ssured. The New York 
the elbow rubbing betw 
dasses bottomed out with 
plus, mentalhealthwis 

Within a very few wee 
indistinguishable from 
whirl At the charitable Apri 
Ball (held in October in New York), 
dancers dined and twisted at а nifty 
$150 a head. In the first week of Novem- 
ber, another white-tie twist party was 
thrown for the benefit of homele 
and two weeks later, “silk-dad bodie 
and diamonds shimmered to the music 
of the twist” at a benefit bash held at 
the Metropolitan. Museum. of Ан. In 
granting permission for the fete, the 
mus James J. Rorimer, 
1 fox 
he 


Li 


great big 


ss girls, 


dir 


"um's 


0101 


had evidently ant 
trots, 
arrived to find “the guests doing the 
twist in the shrine of Rembrandt and 
Cezanne,” Mr. Rorimer objected. “I did 
not invite them,” he shouted. “I was not 
aware of this!” But if the Rembrandts 
Gezannes, Breughels and Egyptian mum- 
es could have stepped down out of 


waltzes 


their frames and cases, it most certa 
would not have been to rout the 
from the museum's hallowed halls, but 
to join in the fun. 

As it was in the Old Kingdom of the 
ile, so it was in the capital of the New 
Fronti ше Potomac. Top-level 
twist parties were tossed by European 
ministers, ambassadors from the N 
East and members of the President's 
Cabinet. It was diplomatically danced by 


r on 


officials of the State Department. visiting 
whips and big- 
Pentagon. 


dignitaries, Congressiona 
brass strategists from the 
When, on а memorable even 
the First E 
the Secretary. of Defense beneath the 
historic old crystal chandeliers of the 
White House Blue Room. the dance be- 
сате as much 
heritage as Hail, 
Revere's ride. 

While Pr 


part of our matio 
olumbia 


nd 


favorite bandleader, Lester Lanin, | 
n quoted as saying, “He likes good. 
cd, cheerful dance music . . . He 
n't dance often and he doc hold 
close. He talks when he dance: 
and he only dances a couple of minutes, 
then he takes another partner later. 
To date, the President has yet to come 
ош with any clearcut policy statement 
on dancing, But his predecessor, Dwight 
D. Eisenhower, chose the occasion of 
the Eisenhower Library dedication in 
Abilene, Kansas, to make his own views 
known. “We venerate the pioneers who 
fought droughts and floods, isolation and 
Indians, 10 come to Kansas and westward 
to settle into their homes, to till the 
soil and raise their families.” Mr. Eisen- 
hower stated, by way of preface. "We 
think of their sturdiness, their self- 
reliance, their faith in God. we think of 
their glorious pride in America. Now, 1 
wonder if some of those people could 
come back today and see us doing the 
twist instead of the minuet — whether 
they would be particularly struck һу 
the beauty of that dance 

Comi 


ай 


the twist 
state- 


ig when 
spring of 1969 
ment gave y thoughtful 
pause, Certainly, the opinion of any 
group of people who had fought so hard 
nd endured so much in order to live in 
Kansas would be worthy of our deepest 
respect — even awe, But, unless the his- 
tory of American dancing is in error, it 
would seem extremely doubtful that 
many of the muddy-booted forty-niners 
who first settled the Cornflowe 
had seen a minuet — much less 
danced one. Though lively reels and 
jigs were esteemed for their gaiety, the 
dainty steps of 18th Century Versailles 
would have been as out of place at a 
frontier dance as French perfume in a 
crock of "corn likker." The vigorous, no- 
nonsense twist, on the other hand, could 


nhowe 
сире 


State 


ever 


have been adapted to life on the western 
prairies as easily as it has been adapted 
to life in Samoa ап. Besides hoe- 
ing down such familiar forms as the fly. 
the mashed potato and the slop, our fui 
loving forefathers might have come up 
twist,” "ladies choice 
— twist or sw the “twist quadrille” 
or, perhaps, a variation we loose-living 
moderns have never even thought of: the 
kiss twist" 

No possibility, past or present, seems 
too farfetched in the light of a Time 
magazine report. that German twisters 
had made a hit of i ssically based 
Licbestraum von List Twist, and that 


st 


African and West Indian students were 
teaching the customers of West Berlin's 
Eden Saloon “a ritualistic ‘voodoo 


fluence 
7 


twist)" The Latin American i 
was evident in the pachanga twi 
the cha-cha twist, and a Spanish dance 
troupe worked out a flamenco twist, 
which put the heeltoe-rapping routine 
back in the old Canary Islands fertility 
groove where the Spanish conquistadors 
had originally found it in the 16th Ci 
torical perspective, few ol 
© more to the point than 
those of the rebellious young Russia 
poet, Evgeny Evtushenko. “The twist is 
advertised, miracle of the atomi 
ета," he said in a Moscow interview. “But 
membered Gha 
where 1 watched 


ı jungles two years 
African 


tribal 


that had not yet been called the twist. 
"This miracle of the atomic cra 
a modernized 
vented thousands of years 

Extushenko's comments were made i 
the face of official Soviet attacks upon 
the twist and rock 'n' roll “typical 
products of capitalist society." "I do not 
understand how dances can. be divided 
into Capitalist and socialist,” the poet 
argued, and suggested that it was per- 
fectly possible for the proletariat 
perform the twist "in а pleasing n 
Whether hi: d 
direct effect on Soviet 
possible to say. Four days lat 
Premier Khrushchev put in an app 
ance at Moscow's Central Sports Are 
to hear the touring Benny Goodman 
band play a concert of American sw 
Т enjoyed it,” he remarked with sur- 
prising mildness. “I don't dance myself, 
so | don't understand these things too 
well, 

In view of Khrushchev's apparent tol- 
erance toward Western. dance music of 
the Thirties. admirers of the Russian 
dance might find some reason to hope 
thar Moscow will one day be as recep- 
tive toward new dances as it has been 
zealous in preserving the traditional 
Russian folk and ballet forms. But, if 
the past be any guide, conservatives of 


version of wl 


however, 


all nations will continue to greet the 
new and novel with cries of outrage and 
larm. What will the next shocker be 
¢, we wonder? Will some venturesome 
devotce of Terpsichore discover that the 
twist сап be danced by couples locked 
in a close embrace? Can we look for a 
revival of "smouch hugging and 
under-the-girdle lady lifting? Or will 
American dancing go cool and neoclassi- 
cal with organization-man minuets? 

At the moment, all is terpsi-turvy, and 
the crystal ball is beclouded by interna- 
tional exchange. While maltshop maid- 
ens and jukebox bucks continue to whip 
up new youth mo nts with a jungle 
twist, African diplomats from the newly 
independent nations have been intro- 
ducing the attaché-cise cadre to the 
цес! understatement of the high life 
—a slow and casy souvenir from old 
colonial days on the Gold Coast. The 
x beat, however, is bosst nova, a breczy 
Brazilian device for bringing the girl 
back into her partner's arms. Translated 
roughly as “the new or “the new 
wrinkle,” bossa nova is but a jazz switch 
on the old samba, and hence no more 
than a pleasant means of marking time 
until the next frenzied breakout of physi- 
cal basics. 

In his imaginative projection of the 
Brave New World of the future, Aldous 
Huxley once described the dance of to- 
morrow as a kind of carnal conga per- 
formed in the bulb— the “orgy-porgy.” 
"Round they went, a circular proces- 
sion of dancers, each with hands on the 
hips of the dancer preceding, round and 
round, shouting in unison, stamping to 
the rhythm of the music with their fect; 
beating it, beating it out with hands on 
the buttocks in front; 12 pairs of hands 
beating as one; as one, 12 buttocks slab- 
bily resounding . . 


“Orgy-porgy, Ford and fun, 

Kiss the girls and make them One. 
Boys at one with girls at peace; 
Orgy-porgy gives release.” 


Huxley could have been wrong, of 
course, but the history of danci indi- 
cates that his prophecy may yet come 
true. In which case, no one who has 
done his homework on the subject should 
be the least bit surpriscd. But if we, the 
sturdy, self-reliant pioneers of the early 
pace Age, were to come back and sec 
our descendants doing the orgy-porgy 
instead of the twist — would we be p 
ticularly struck with the beauty of that 
dance? Would we join our Puritan an- 
cestors in setting up a ghostly howl 
against madd Bacchanalians“? Or 
would we accept the о 
spirit of the Cobéua Indi: 
and help “carry the fertility into every 
corner of the houses, to the edge of the 
wood, to the nearby fields” with cheerful 
grunts of “ai (ye) — ai (e) — ai (ye)!” 


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167 


PLAYBOY 


168 


PLAYBOY PHILOSOPHY 


ment: “Apparently to be a 
one should be possessed of 
interest, There i 
the conti 
the 


good ceusor, 


scene lite ıd punishing those who 
‚ they enthusiastically go on col- 
lecting it and. preserving it in libr 
of priceless value.” 

Judge Arnold might have gone on to 
observe that almost every major library 
of rept in the world possesses а 
goodly number of socalled obscene 
hooks and every m t museum some 
“pornographic” paintings (many done by 
the most famous artists of history): the 
most valuable collection of erotica in 
the world is housed in the Vatican in 


Rome. 
Dr. Albert Ellis responded to Dr. 
Karpman's statement by saying, “There 


re people, like the famous John Sum- 
ner and Anthony Comstock who, in all 
probability, do have an unconscious or 
semiconscious prurient interest in por- 
and they sublimate this by 
r life's work the legal sup- 
pression . . . of pornography. But there 
no reason to believe that every single 
individual — every dergyman, for c 
ple — who's against pornography 
violently campaigns against it, has any 
at sexual interest in it. N 
have a nonsexual interest in curi 
other people's liberty. And I'd say th: 
most of them are very hostile and 
turbed individuals, but not necessa 
sexually disturbed. 

Maurice Girodias, cditor-publisher of 
Olympia Press in Paris, who pioneered 
in the publication of works by Henry 
Miller and other controversial writers and 
was the first to publish Nabokov's Lolita, 
said, during the same Playboy Panel 
“Nobody has ever offered a coherent 
explanation of censorship, and yet one 
is supposed to submit to it as if it were 
given code of conduct. 
Censorship is obviously inspired 
by individual feclings of modesty, of de- 
gs are rooted 
ual inferiority 
adequacy, ol 


making th 


complex: a f 
failure; or the realization of a ph 
grace, or a lack of experience. People 
sullering from such a complex want to 
bring down everybody to their own level. 
. . This complex has held sway over us 
for [generations]; it has taken the social 
form of censorship — moral and mental 
censorship. In short, describing sex is a 
cime in the eyes of those who are 
hamed of their own sex, and who wish 
to burden others with their sense of sin, 

Another member of the panel. Ralph 
Ginzburg, editor-publisher of the qua 
terly Eros and author of the book An 
Unhurried View of Erotica, commented 


(continued from page 72. 


2 


Arnold Gingrich. publisher of 
Esquire, believes that we are entering 
а new cra of puritanism and favors 
this direction. “Actually,” sid Ginzburg, 
but that puritan- 
h] has stated 
ark on a 


“there is no question 
ism is Гай 
that the world is about to 
great new voyage of morality, by which 
he apparendy means puritanism. He 
feels that freedom in literature and the 
arts is going to produce a counteraction 
© going to get fed up with 
rding sex and throw it out 
sort of mid-Victorian hypo 
у — though he doesn't say it in those 
words, of course. But if Ging 

ihe public is becoming bored by sex. or 
upset about its prevalence, I think he is 
projecting onto the public something 
which may be the result of his own in- 


reminds us of thc 
mes Ball Naylor: 


King David and King Solomon 
Led merry, merry lives 
With their many, many lady friends 


And many, many wives; 
But when old аде crept over them — 
With many, 


many qualms, 
wrote the Proverbs 
i David wrote the P: 


Whatever the multiple motivations 
that prod the prude and the censor, it 
should be clear that much more 
volved than simply the considered pro- 
tection of the public from ideas that 
might prove harmful. Moreover, our 
democracy is founded on the premise 
that people have a God-given right to 


in- 


knowledge—a right to know. And no 
human being has the right to tamper 


with the free flow of ideas among his 
fellows. 

The attitude that some ideas are best 
kept from the citizenry advances a con- 
cept of totalitarian paternalism that is 
contrary to the most basic ideals of our 
free society. It is akin to the colonialist 
concept that а new ion may nor yet 
be ready to rule itself. The only way in 
which the people of a country can ever 
become mature enough for Sell. rule is by 
setting them free to practice sell-rule. 
Similarly, the only way in which a society 
an mature sexually, socially and philo- 
sophically is by allowing it naturally free 
and unfettered sexual, social and. philo- 
sophical growth. By treating our own 
so many overprotected chil- 
en, we have produced our present, too- 
ofterchildlike, immature, hypocritical 
social order. 


THE EVIL EFFECT OF OBSCENITY 


Having considered the harmful effects 
that censorship of any kind can have on 
society, s reasonable to assume that 
the obscenity it is intended to protect 


us from must be even more harmful. 
That would be the only reasonable just 
fication for allowing the censor to exist 
all. Tt may be surprising to some to 
learn, therefore, that there is no real 
evidence to support the supposition il 
obscenity is harmful at all. In fact, there 
nd not ‘able school 
of professional s that 
suggests that obsc lly be 
beneficial to society. 

Dr. Benjami 
psychotherapist 


is а ser 


ous 


y may actu 


chief 


arpman, the 
St. Elizabeth's Hosp 
whom we quoted earlier, has stated: 
ntrary to popular misconception, 
people who read salacious literature are 
less likely to become sexual offenders 
than those who do not, for the reason 
izes what 
may have.” 
Vot everyone agrees on this subject, 
of course, though most of the dis 


ment comes from outside the scientific 
community. But with or without sc 


т more vociferous 
an are the 


material arc us rally 
expressing th 
proponents of а x policy as re- 
gards both behavior and literature. 

ctor J. Edgar Hoover has 
stated: “We know that in an overwhelm- 
ingly large number of cases, sex crime is 
associated with pornography. We know 
that sex criminals read it, are clearly in 
fluenced by it. I believe that if we can 
eliminate the diswibution of such items 


ne 


among impressionable children, we shall 
greatly reduce our frightening crime 
rate.” 


That is certainly a strong indictment 
coming, as it does, from one of the chief 
law enforcement officers in the country. 

What facts docs J. Edgar have to sub- 
samiate his concern over pornography as 
being what he has termed “ 
of sex violence"? Well, it "sd 
because no truly comprehensive and 
liable study has ever been made on the 
lationship between sex crime and erotic 
or obscene matter; and the primary т 
son for relatively little research in the 
à is that those scientific studies that 
have been undertaken are almost un 
mous in their conclusion that no cause- 
and-effect relationship exists. between 
pornography and sex crime. Without any 
evidence of a caw 
5 no scientific motive for pursuin: 
s apparently a fruitless path to 
dictable d 


ficult to say, 


what 
s pre 


is considers the condu- 
1 Hoover's statement, and 
others like it, “meani 
Ellis expresses it, the со 
pornography and the sex criminal is no 
1 between pornography and 

ge male; if anything, 

ably slightly lower, since the 
and the juvenile delinquent tend to read 
less than the normal male of the same 
¢ and background. "Hoover's alle: 


“for 


tion is meaningless,” says Dr. Ellis. 
the simple reason that it would be 
cult to find many nondelinquents or non- 
sex criminals in our society who did not 
have a considerable acquaintance with 
pornog If this is true, then por 
nography is 


om this "logic! that their 
ce with pornography caused 
te great books or compose 


them to w 
great music.“ 


Drs. Phyl 
noted psychiatric team specializ 
family therapy and group guidance and 
uthors of Pornography and the Law, 
in that book, in the chapter on 
ab Effects of Erotic Lites 
: "We would point out that lor aca 
demic psychologists to speak dogma 
about the psychological ellects of 
"obscene books would, in the pre 
state of our knowledge, be as unbecom 
as venturing guesses about the nature of 
the Oedipus complex in out 
truth of the matter is that there 
nt conclusive research. data a 
wer the question direc: 
with the same assurance as one could, for 
example, state that unhealthy family life 
is one of the contributing causes of juve- 
¢ delinquency. 
1t is amazing, nevertheless, how many 
people have felt called upon to voice 
the most authoritative opinion 
the effects of "obscene" wri 
ing law-enforcement officers, educators, 
housewives, women's dubs, 
nizations in short, 


rd Kronhausen, 


sul 
able to 


ı authoritative opinion on 
such confusing dimen 


subject of 
d such 
ause of their 


ms a 


own deep emotional involven 
felt no hesitation in expoundir 
cathedra and with omniscient final 
оп the matter.” 

ag that it is the intention of a 
en whole, 
than any particular part of it, that i 
used as the criterion for judging obscen- 
ity. but that “there is no le 
definition of obscenity.” the Drs. Kron- 
hausen attempt to supply the needed 
“workable definition.” by m: 
tinction between. “obse 
core pornography," where the only or 
major purpose ol the work 
ion, and "erotic realism,” 

any sexual stimulation inh tin the 
work is incidental to its main. purpose, 
“the honest portrayal of man’s sexual 
nature which no sane society can afford 
to suppress." 


е 
"ex 


15 


sumulu 


The Drs. Kronhausen confirm that. 
what is termed “hard-core obscenity” or 
“pornography” docs, in their opinion. 


sexually stimulate the majority of people 
who come in contact with it. 
“We also affirm that works of erotic 


realism, such as Lady Chatterley's Love: 
may have sim psychological effects 
to those passages which are descriptive 
of sexual activities, or even with regard 
istic portrayals of physical beauty. 
But in that respect, erotic realis 
different from any other psycholog; 
stimulus of an erotic mature, c£. 
fume in types of music. sex 
provoking advertising, fashions in dress, 
the use of cosmetics to enhance attrac- 
tiveness, or any other of the many psy- 
chological aphrodisiacs with which our 
culture is so familiar, and on which it 
is dependent.” 

The Kronhausens state a bit further 
n the chapter: 
papers carry some release from pro-cen- 
sorship quarters, blithely linking ‘obscene’ 
literature with the perpetration of the 
most ghastly crimes, making everything 
erotically provocative responsible for 


cert 


on ery day, the news 


every sodal evil from juvenile delin- 
of 


the 


quency and the disintegration 
American family to the increasing 
mental breakdown and commu: 

“Let us, however. not fall 
same trap. The basis of one’s attitude 
toward ‘elects’ lies in one's attitude to- 
wards sexuality. If sex in and by itself 
is considered shameful, undesirable, dan- 
gerous, unethical, or damaging to tlie 
individual and to society, then the effect 
of ‘obscene’ as well as of erotically realis- 
tic books and art is definitely to be 
wed with the utmost suspicion and 
alarm, along with, presumably, all other 


it is est 
tides are not only regi 
t can, indeed, be d 
viously stated, all the cli 
indicates that. guilt-based 
о! 
п perversions of the sex 
general intellectual dulling, sado-maso- 
chistic inclinations, unreasonable (para. 
noid) suspiciousness, and a long list of 
neurotic and psychotic defense reactions 
with ui 


mistakable sexual content or 
overtones.” 
Having established the belief 


man’s God 


iven right to the free use of 


Sexu AL INTER Соок 


his own body. the Drs. Kronl 
tinu I. therefor ‘otic literature or 
art tend to lead to sexual acts, we would 
consider this a natural phenomenon that 
much more likely than not would си 
hance mental health and human happi 
led that it met the condi 
of not being forcefully or fraudulently 
imposed on another perso! 

“If the pro-censorship leaguers believe 
that an crotic stimulus may lead to physi- 
cal violence, this strangely paradoxical 
belief demands some further expla 
1t would be totally absurd, were it not 
for the unspoken corollary that the nor- 
mal sexual outlets of the individual ате 
to be blocked and frustrated to the ex- 
tent that he (or she) will then have to 
turn to sadism, rape, and. murde 
sexual acti 
ling ma € stimu- 
e of society then, no 
al health, 


ions 


ness, pro 


substitute for the паци 


ties which the re: 
lated. For the wella 
less than for indi 
is incompi sible why onc would not 
want to accept the normal sex drive 
ther than to try and remove all tempi 
tion toward it, ev were possible. 

“But anti-sexualists cannot contem- 
plate with equanimity the free accept- 
ance of man's sexual role, nor any 
literature which tends to inform, educate 
or rease interest in that role, The best 
proof of this is chat literature of an crotic 
re is the constant 
of self-appointed censors who connect 
this type of reading to c ted 
out violence, but who virtu 
vast body of books dealing with violence 
in the most gruesome detail 

It has long seemed quite incredible — 
indeed, incomprehensible — to us that de 
tailed descriptions of murder, which we 
consider a crime, are acceptable in i 
art and literature, while detailed descrip- 
tions of sex, which is not a crim 
prohibited. It is as though oi 


ra 


d foremost target 


In the seventh pari of “The Playboy 
Philosophy” which appears next month 
Editor-Publisher Hugh M. Hefner cou 
cludes his examination of obscenity and 
censorship in a free society. 


169 


= 


PLAYBO 


170 


HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE 


barely masticated with the tips of her 
teeth before swallowing with hardly a 
ripple of her throat. She had been “well 
brought up.") “Oh, but we're not at all 
like St. Trinian's. Those awful girls! 
How could you ever say such a thing!” 
ust a thought,” said Bond airily. 
w then, how about another di 

"Oh, thenks awfully. 

Bond turned 10 Friule 
you, Miss Bur 

“Thank you, Sair Hilary. An apple 
juice, if you please.” 


п Bunt. 


Violet, the fourth at their table, said 
demurely that she wouldn't have another 
Coke. “They give me wind. 


"Oh Violet!" Ruby's sense of the pro- 
prietics was outraged. "How can you say 


"Well. anyway, they do," said Violet 
obstinately. "They make me hiccup. No 
harm in saying that, is there’ 

Good old Manchester, thought Bond. 
He got up and went to the bar, wonder- 
ing how he was going to plow on 
through this and other evenings. He or- 
dered the drinks and had a brain wave. 
He would break the ice! By hook or by 
crook he would become the life and soul 
of the party! He asked for a tumbler and 
that its rim should be dipped in water. 
Then he picked up a paper cock 


oggled at 
paying for our drinks, 
I'll show you how we'd decide who 
should pay. I learned this in the Army." 
He placed the tumbler in the middle of 
the table, opened the paper napkin and 
spread the center tightly over the top so 
that it dung to the moist edge of the 
glass. He took his small change out of 
his pocket, selected a five-centime piece 
and dropped it gently onto the center of 
the stretched tissue. “Now then,” he an- 
nounced, remembering that the last time 
he had played this game had been in the 
dirtiest bar in Singapore. "Who else 


mokes? We need three others with 
lighted. ci ues" Violet was the only 


(continued from page 116) 


опе at their table. Irma clapped her 
hands with authority. "Elizabeth, Beryl, 
come over here. And come and watch, 
girls, Sair Hilary is making the joke 
game.” The girls clustered round, chat- 
tering happily at the diversion. "What's 
he doing?" “What's going to happen?” 
“How do you play?” 

“Now then," said Bond, fe 
the games director on a cruise ship, "this 
is for who pays for the drinks. One by 
one, you take a puff at your cigarette, 
knock off the ash, like tl nd touch the 
top of the paper with the lighted end— 
just enough to burn a tiny hole, like th 
The paper sparked briefly, “Now Vio- 
let, then Elizabeth, then Beryl. The 
point is, the paper gets like a sort of 
cobweb with the coin just supported in 
the middle. The person who burns the 
last hole and makes the coin drop pays 
for the drinks. See? Now then, Violet.” 

There were squeaks of excitement. 

“What a lovely game!” “Oh Beryl, look 
out!“ Lovely heads craned over Bond. 
Lovely hair brushed his cheek. Quickly 
the three girls got the tick of very deli- 
cately touching a space that would not 
collapse the cobweb until Bond, who con- 
sidered himself an expert at the game, 
decided to be chivalrous and purposely 
burned a vi strand. With the chink 
of the coin falling into the glass there 
was a burst of excited laughter and 
applause. 
о, you sce, girls." 
Bunt had invented the gam 
ary pays, isn't it? А most de 
time. And пом —” she looked at her 
mannish wrist watch — “we must finish. 
our drinks. It is five minutes to supper- 
time." 

There were cries of "Oh, one more 
game, Miss Bunt!" But Bond politely 
rose with his whiskey in his hand. “We 
will play again tomorrow. I hope it's not 
it you all off smol 
nted by the tobacco 


It was as if Irma 
“Sair Hil- 
ightful pas- 


going to s 
sure it wa 
companie: 

There was laughter. But the girls stood 


“I fear the days of man’s supremacy are numbered.” 


admiringly round Bond. What a sport he 
! And they had all expected a stuffed 
shirt! Bond felt justifiably proud of him- 
self. The ice had been broken. He had 
got them all minutely on his side. Now 
they were all chums together. From now 
on he would be able to get to talk to 
them without frightening them. Fei 
reasonably pleased with his gambit, 


ng 
he 


followed the tight pants of Irma Bunt 
into the dining room next door. 
7:30. 


lt was Bond suddenly felt e 
hausted, exhausted with the prospect of 
boredom, exhausted with playing the 
most difhcult role of his career, exhausted 
with the enigma of Blofeld and the Piz 
Gloria, What in hell was the bast: 
to? He sat down on the right of Ir 
Bunt in the same placing as for drinks, 
with Ruby on his right and Violet, dar 
demure, self-effacing, opposite him, and 
opened his napkin. Blofeld had 
ly spent money on his eyrie. Their 
three tables, in а remote corner by the 
long, curved, curtained window, occu- 
pied only a fraction of the space in the 
big, low, luxuriously appointed, moc! 
German baroque room, ornate with cai 
delabra suspended from the stomachs of 
flying cherubs, festooned with heavy gilt 

terwork, solemnized by the dark por 
n. Blofeld 
must he pretty certain he was here to 
stay. What was the investment? Certainly 
not less than a million sterling, even as- 
suming a fat mortgage from Swiss ban 
on the cost of the cable railway. To led 


se 
an Alp, put up a cable railway on mort- 


with the gineers and the local 
district council participating — that, Bond 
was one of the latest havens for 
e funds. If you were successful, 
if you чай the council could bribe ос 
bully the local farmers to allow right of 
way through their pastures, cut swaths 
through the treeline for the cable 
pylons and the ski runs, the rest 
publicity and amenities for the public 
to eat thi ndwiches. Add to that the 
snob appeal of a posh, heavily restricted 
club such as Bond imagined this, during 
the daytime, to be, the coroneted G, and 
the mystique of a research institute run 
by a Count, and you were off to the races. 
Skiing today, Bond had read, was the 
most widely practiced sport in the world. 
Tt sounded unlikely, but then one rcck- 
опей the others largely by spectators. 
Skiers were participants, and bigger 
spenders on equipment than in other 
sports, Clothes, boots, skis, bindings and 
now the whole après-ski routine which 
took care of the day from four o'clock, 
when the sun went, onward, were a trc- 
mendous industry. If you could lay your 
hands on а good Alp, which Blofeld ha 
somchow managed to do, you really h 
it good. Mortgages paid off — snow 
the joker, but in the 
height, you would be 
— in three or four years, and then jam 


ше, 


forever! One сет 
him! 

lt was 
Resignedly, Bond tur 
Bunt. “Fräulein Bunt. Please expt: 
me. What is the difference between. 
and an Alp and a berg? 

"The yellow eyes gleamed with academic 
enthusiasm, "Ah, Sair Hilary, but that is 
an interesting question. 
curred to me before. 
She gazed into the n 
piz, that is only a local name in this de 
tment of Switzerland for a peak. An 
Alp. that one would think would be 
smaller than a berg—a hill, perhaps, or 
an upland pasture, as compared with a 
mountain. But that is not so. These — " 
she waved her hand — "are all Alps and 
yet they are great mountains, It is the 
ame in Austria, certainly 
But in Germany, in Bavari 
which is my homeland, th 
bergs. No. Sair Hilary —" the 
smile was switched on and oft — "I can- 
not help you. But why do you ask?" 

"In my profession," said Bond prosily, 
the ict meaning of words is vital. 
Now, before we met for cocktails, it 
to look up your surname, 
y books of reference. What I 


inly had to hand it to 


ne to make the ¢ 
d to Fr 


piz 


Fräulein, was most interesti 
Bunt, it seems, is German [oi 
"happy. In England, the name has 


most certainly been corrupted into 
Bounty, perhaps even into Brontë. be- 
cause the grandfather of the famous lit- 
ly by that name had in 

me from the less ari 
cratic name of Brunty. Now this is most 
interesting.” (Bond knew that it wasn’t, 
that this was all hocus-pocus, but he 


thought it would do no harm to stretch 
his heraldic muscles.) “Can you remem- 
ber if your ancestors had any connection 


h E 
Brontë, 
It would be i 
connection.” 

The penny dropped! A duchess! Irma 
Bunt, hooked, went off into a dreary 
chronicle of her forebears, including 
proudly, distant relationship with a Graf 
von Bunt. Bond listened politely. prod- 
ding her back to the immediate past. 
She gave the name of her father and 
mother. Bond filed them away. He now 
had enough to find out in duc co 
exactly who Irma Bunt was What a 
splendid trap snobbery was! How right 
Sable Basilisk had been! There is a snob 
à all of us and only through snobbery 
could Bond have discovered who the 
parents of this woman were. 

Bond finally calmed down the wom 
momentary fever, and the headwaiter, 
who had been politely hovering, pre- 
sented giant menus covered in violet ink. 
There was everything from caviar down 
to Double Mokka au whiskey irlandais. 
There were also many spécialités Gloria 


ad? There is the Dukedom of 
which Nelson assumed. 
teresting to establish a 


wi 


you se 


— Poulet Gloria, Homard Gloria, Tour- 
ndo Gloria, and so on, Bond. despite 
his forswearing of spécialités, decided to 
ive the chicken a chance. He said so 
nid was surprised by the enthusiasm with 
which Ruby greeted his choice. "Oh, how 
right you are, Sir Hilary! I adore chicken. 
too. I absolutely dote on it. Can I have 
that too, please, Miss Bunt? 
There was such surprisir 
her voice that Bond watched Tr 
face. What was that matrouly gle 
her eye as she gave her approval? It was 
more than approval for a good appetite 
mong her cha was enthu 
siasm, even triumph there. Odd! And it 
happened again when Violet stipulated 
plenty of potatoes with her tournedos. 
“L simply love potatoc 
to Bond, her eyes sl 
agreed Bond. "When 
plenty of ex i 


w 


Violet. “4 

"Very good indeed, my dear. Very good 
for you, too. Aud Fritz, 1 will just have 
the mixed salad with some cottage 
chees She e the caricature of 
simper. “Alas—" she spoke to Bond — 
1 have to watch my figure, These young 
things take plenty of exercise, while 1 
must stay in my office and do the paper 
work, isn't it?” 

At the next table Bond heard the girl 
with the Scottish burr, her voice full of 
saliva, ask that her Aberdeen Angus 
liould be cooked vci € indeed. 

‘Guid and bluidy," she emphasized. 

What was this? wondered Bond. A 
gathering of beautiful ogresses? Or was 
this a day off from some rigorous dict? 
He felt completely clueless, out of h 
depth. Well, he would just go on dig- 
ging. He turned to Ruby, "You see what 
I mean about s mes, Fraulein Bunt 
may even have distant claim to 
lish title. Now what's yours, for 
ГИ see what I can make of it." 
in sharply. “No 
air Hilary. It is a rule of 
the house. We use only first names for 
the girls. It is part of the Count’s treat- 
ment. lt is bound up with a ch. 
transference of identity, to help the cu 
You understand?” 

“No, I^ id that's way out of my 
depth.” said Bond cheerfully 

"No doubt the Count will expl. 
some of these matters to you tomorrow. 
He has special theories. One day the 
world will be startled when he reveals 
his methods.” 

“Lm sure,” said Bond politely. “Well 
now ——" he searched for a subject tha 
would leave his mind fre 
"Tell me about you 
are you getting on? Don't do it myself, 
I'm afraid. Perhaps 1 shall pick up s 


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ame and proved de 
spatchcocked, wi 


ard-and- 
lent over 
z them with polite 
but concentrated greed. There was 
similar pause in the chatter at the other 
tables. Bond made conversation about 
the decor of the room a 
ance to have a good look at the 
aiters. There were 12 of them in si 
s not dificult to sum them up 
ans, three 
vaguely Balkan faces, Turks, Bulgars or 
Yugoslavs, and three obvious Si 
There would probably be three French- 
men in the kitchen, Was this the old 
pattern of secret? The welltried С 
cell pauem of three men from 
ch of the great gangster and secret 
service org: ons in Europe? Were 
the three Slavs ex-sMersH men? The 
whole lot of them looked tough enough, 
had that quiet smell of the pro. The man 
at the airport was one of them. Bond тес- 
ognized others as the reception steward 
d the man who had come to his room 
bout the table, He heard the girls call- 
them Fritz, Joseph, Ivan, Achmed. 
And some of them were ski les during 
the day. Well, it was a nice little setup if 
Bond was right. 

Bond excused himself after dinner on 
the grounds of work. He went to his 
room and laid out his books and papers 
on the desk and on the extra table that 
had been provided. 
while his mind revie 

At 10 o'clock he heard th 
of the girls down the corridor 
dick of the doors shut 


while 
hen he 


the microphones, if id turned over 
on his side and went to sleep. 
Later, much later, һе was aw: 
by a very soft murmuring that sce 
come from somewhere under the floor, 
but very. very He identified 
it as a minute, spidery whispering th 
went on and оп. But he could not make 
out any words and he finally put it down 
to the central-heating pipes. turned over 
and went to sleep 


nes Bond awoke to a scream. It was 
a tenible, masculine scream out of hell. 
и fractionally held its first high, pi 
ing note and then rapidly diminished as 
if the man had jumped off a cliff. It cam 
from the tight, from somewhere near the 
cable station perhaps. Even in Bond's 
room, mullled by the double windows, it 
ш enough. Outside it must 
have been shattering. 

Bond jumped up and pulled back the 
curtains, not knowing what scene of 


panic, of running men, would meet his 


eyes. But the only man in sight was опе 
of the guides, walking slowly, stolidly up 
the beaten snow path from the cable 
station to the club The spacious wooden 
veranda that stretched from the wall of 
the club out over the slope of the moun- 
tain was empty, but tables had been laid 
for breakfast and the upholstered chaises 
longues for the sunbathers had already 
been drawn up in their meticulous. color- 
ful rows. The sun was blazing down out 
of a crystal sky Bond looked at his watch. 
Tt was cight o'clock. Work began carly 
in this place! People died early. For that 
had undoubtedly been the death scream. 
He turned back into his room and rai 
the bell. 

It w 


Б 


опе of the three men Bond had 
suspected of being Russians. Bond be- 
came the officer and gentleman, “What 


2" Bond longed to say. "And 
how arc all my old friends from SMERSE 
He didn't He said, "What was that 


The granitegray eyes were 


careful. 
"A man scr 
by the cable station What was it?" 


ed just now, From over 


"It seems there has been an accident, 
sir. You wish for breakfast?” He pro- 
duced a large menu from under his arm 
and held it out clumsily. 

“What sort of an accidci 

"It scems that one of the guides has 
fallen.” 

How could this man have known that, 
only minutes after the scream? “Is he 
badly hurt" 

5 possible, sir" The eyes, sur 
trained in investigation, held Bond's 
blandly. "You wish for breakfast" TI 
menu was once again nudged forward. 

Bond said, with sufficient concern, 
“Well, I hope the poor chap's all right. 
He took the menu and ordered, "Let me 
know if you hear what happened." 

“There will no doubt be an announce- 
ment if the matter is serious. Thank you, 
' The man withdrew 


riggered Bond 
into deciding that, above all things, he 
must keep fit, He suddenly felt that, de- 
spite all the mystery and its demand for 
solution, there would come a moment 
when he would need all his muscle Re- 
luctantly he proceeded to a quarter of an 
hour of knee bends and press ups and 
deep-breathing chest expansions cxer- 
cises of the skiing muscles, He guessed 
that he might have to get away from this 
place. But quick! 

He took a shower and shaved. Break- 
fast was brought by Peter. "Any more 
news about this poor guid 

“I have heard no more, sir. It concerns 
the outdoor stall. I work inside the club." 

Bond decided to play it down. “He 
must have slipped and broken an ankle. 
Poor chap! Thank you, Peter.” 


“Thank you, si 
conta 
ames Bond put his brea 
desk and, with some difficulty, ma 
to prize open the double window. 
removed the small bolster that lay along 
the sill between the panes to keep out 
drafts, and blew away the accumulated 
dust and small fly corpses. The cold, 
savorless air of high altitudes rushed into 
the room and Bond went to the thermo- 
stat and put it up to 90 as а counter- 
attack. While, his hea 
the sill, he ate a spare Continental break- 
fast, he heard the chatter of the girls as- 
sembling outside on the terrace. The 
voices were high with excitement and 
debate. Bond could hear every word. 

"p really don't think Sarah should 
have told on him.” 

"But he came in in the dark and 
started mucking her about.” 


” Did the granite eyes 


в a sneer? 


d below the level of 


You mean actually Pnierfering with 
her?“ 

“So she If I'd been her, I'd have 
done the same. And he’s such а beast of 
a man." 

“Was, you mean. Which one was it, 
anyway? 


‘One of the Yugos, Bert 
Oh, I know, Yes, he was pretty hor- 
rible. He had such dreadful teeth." 

"You ought to say such th 
the dead 

“How do you know he's dead? What 
happened to him, anyway? 

"He was one of the two you see spray- 
ing the start of the bob run. You see 
them with hoses every morning. It’s to 
get it good and icy so they'll go fa 
Fritz told me he somehow slipped, 
his balance or something. Aud that was 
that. He just went off down the run 
like a sort of human bobsleigh.” 


of 


“Elizabeth! How can you be so he: 
less about it! 


“Well, that’s what happened. You 
asked.” 

"But couldn't he save himself?" 

“Don't be idiotic. It's sheet ice, а 


mile of it, And the bobs get up to 60 
miles an hour, He hadn't got a prayer.” 

“But didn't he fly off at one of the 
bends?” 


“Friz said he went all the way to 
the bottom. Crashed into the timing hut 
But Fritz says he must have been dead 
in the first hundred yards or so." 

“Oh, here's Franz. Franz, can 1 have 
scrambled eggs and coffee And tell 


them to make the scrambled eggs runny 


miss. And you, miss" "The 
iter took the orders and Bond heard 
his boots creak off across the boards 

‘The sententios girl was being sen 
tentious again. "Well, all 1 can say is 
it must have been some kind of punish- 
ment for what he tried to do to Sarah. 
You always get paid off for doi 
wrong." 

“Don't be rid 


м 


ulous, God would 


never punish you as severely as that." 
The conversation followed this new hare 
off into a maze of infantile morality 


and the Scriptures. 

Bond lit a cigarette and back, 
zing thoughtfully at the sky. No, the 
girl was right. God wouldn't mete out 
such a punishment. But Blofeld would. 
Had there been one of those Blofeld 
meetings at which, before the full body 
of men, the crime and the verdict had 
been announced? Had this Bertil been 
taken out and dropped onto the bob 
run? Or had his companion been quietly 
dealt the card of death, told to give the 
sinner the trip or the light push that 


*] have love and compassion for those down and 
out, but 1 can't stand those who are up and in.” 


173 


PLAYBOY 


174 of the one a 


1 been 


was probably all that h. ceded? 
More likely. The quality of the scream 
had been of sudden, fully realized terror 
as the man fell, scrabbled at the ice with 
his fingernails and boots, and then 
he gathered speed down the polished 
blue gully, the blinding horror of the 
nud. And what a death! Bond had 
once gone down the Cresta, from “Top. 
to prove to himself that he dared. He 
meted, masked against the blast of air, 
padded with leather and foam rubber, 
that had still been 60 seconds of naked 
fear. Even now he could remember how 
his limbs had shaken when he rose 
sully from the flimsy little skeleton bob 
the end of the runout, Aud that had 
e three quarters of a mile. This 
or the flayed remains of him. had 
done over à mile. Had he gone down 
body started 
tumbling? Had he wied, while conscious 
ness remained, to brake himself over the 
edge ol one of the early, scientifically 
banked bends with the unspiked toc of 
this boot or that... ? No. After the first 
rds, he would ly have bee 
onal thought 


few y 
going too fast for any 
or action, God, what a death! A typical 
Blofeld death ECTRE revenge 
for the supreme crime of disobedience. 
That was the way to keep discipline 
in the So, concluded Bond 
he cleared. the tray away and got down 
to his books. эРЕСТЕЕ: walks again! But 
down what road this time? 

At 10 minutes to 11, Irma Bunt came 
for him, After an exchange of affabilities, 
Bond gathered up an armful of books 
and papers and followed her round the 


narrow, well.trodden 
that suid PRIVAT. EINTRITT VERBOTEN 

The rest of the building, whose out- 
lines Bond had seen the night before, 
came into view. It was an undist 
guished but powerfully built one-story 
affair made of local granite blocks, with 
а flat cement roof from which, at the 
far end, protruded a small, prolessional 
looking radio mast which, Bond 
had given the pilot his landing insuuc- 
tions on the previous night and which 
would also serve as the ears and. mouth 
of Blofeld. The building was on the 
very edge of the plateau and below the 
final peak of Piz Gloria, but out of 
lanche danger. Beneath it the mou 
н sloped sharply away until it dis 
ed over a cliff. Far below again 
the treeline and the Bernina valley 
leading up to Pontresina, the glint of 
а railway track and th aterpillar 
of a long goods train of the Rhätische 
Bahn, on its w bly, over the 
Bernma Pass 

The door to 


ssumed, 


av 


app 


ме the 
and the centra 
les a duplicate 
the dub, but here there 


corridor w. 


e doors on both sides and no pictures 
It was dead quiet and there was no 
hint of what went on behind the doors. 
Bond put the question 
thoratories,” said Irma Bunt vague- 
ly. “AIL laboratories. And of course the 
lecture room. Then the Counts private 
quarters. He lives with his work, S: 
Hilary.” 

“Good show.” 

They came to the end of the corridor. 
Irma Bunt knocked on the facing door. 

“Herein!” 
James Bond was tremendously excited 
as he stepped over the threshold and 
heard the door sigh shut behind him. 
He knew what not to expect, the ori 
1 Blofeld, last year's model — about 
20 stone. tall, pale, bland face with 
black crew cut, black eyes with the 
whites showing all round, like Musso: 
linis, ugly thin mouth. long pointed 
hands and feet— but he had no idea 
what 1 been contrived 
on the envelope that contained the m 


who now rose se longue on 
the small private veranda and cime in 
out of the sun into the penumbra of 
the study, his hands outstretched in 
welcome, was surely not even a distant 
relative of the man on the files! 

Bond's heart sank. This man was tall- 
ish. yes, and, all right, his hands and 
naked feet were long and thin. But 
there the resemblance ended. The Count 
tended, almost 

а fine silvery 


had longish, 


white. His 
close to his head, stuck out slightly and, 
where they should have had heavy lobes, 
had none. The body that should have 
weighed 20 stone. now naked save for 
a black woolen slip. was not more than 
12 stone, and there were no signs of 


the sagging flesh that comes from middle- 
ET 


«d weight reduction. The mouth was 
Tull and friendly, with a pleasant, up- 
turned, but. perhaps rather unwavering 
smile. The forehead uted with 
wrinkles above a nose that, while the files 
said it should be short and squat. w: 
d. round the right nostril, 
way. poor chap, by what looked 
like the badge of tertiary syphilis. The 
yes? Well, there might be something 
there if one could sce them, but they were 
only rather frightening dark-green pools. 
The Count wore, presumably against the 
truly dangerous sun at these alt 
dar 


was ser 


udes, 


ed contact. lenses 
led his books onto a con- 
veniently empty table and took the 


п. dry hand 


y. This is indecd 
Blofeld's voice had bes 
nd even. This voice 


ure." 


said то be somber à 
was light and full of 
Bond said to himself, furiously, By 
God this has got to be Blofeld! He said, 
I'm so sorry | couldn't come on the 


21st. The 
moment.” 

Ah yes. 80 Fräulein Bunt told me. 
These new African States. They must 
indeed present a problem. Now, shall 
we settle down here" — he waved toward 
his desk — “or shall we go outside? You 
see —" he gestured at his brown body — 
“I am a heliotrope. a sun worshiper. So 
much so that | have bad to have these 
lenses devised for me, Otherwise, the 
infrared rays, at this altitude .. . He 
left the ph 

^p haven't 
bef 
here and fetch them if we песа them 
for reference. I have the case pretty 
cle: n my mind. And —" Bond smiled 
chummily —"it would be nice to go back 
to the fogs with something of a sunburn.” 

Bond had equipped himself at Lilly 
whites with clothing he thought would 


es a lot going on at the 


о 


that kind of lens 


seen 
After all, I cin leave the books 


be both appropriate and sensible. He 
had avoided the modern elasticized 
vorlage wousers and had chosen the 


more comfortable but old-fashioned type 
of s user in a smooth cloth. Above 
these he wore an aged black wind 
cheater that he used for golf, over his 
white sea-island cotton shirt. He 
ely reinforced this outfit with 
long and ugly cotton-and-wool pants 
and vests, He had conspicuously brand- 
new ski boots with powerful ankle straps. 
He said, "Then Td better take off my 


sweater" He did so and followed the 
Count out onto the veranda. 

The Count lay again in his 
upholstered aluminum chaise longue. 


w up a light chair made of 
s. He placed it also fac- 
ng the sun, but at an angle so that he 
could watch the Count's face. 

“And now." said the Comte de Bieu 
ville, "what have you got to tell me 
that necessitated this personal visit? 
He turned his fixed smile on Bond, The 
dark-green glass eyes were unlathomable. 


"Not of course that the visit is not 
most welcome. Hilary 
Bond had been well trained in two 


responses to this obvious first. question. 
The first for the that the 
Count had lobes to his ears, The second, 
if he had not, He now, in measured. 
serious tones, launched himself into 
number two. 

“My dear Count t the form of ad- 
dress seemed dictated by the silvery hair, 
by the ch. 
“there 


event 


пе 


m of the Count's ma 

i the work of the 
per work 
re simply not enough. We have, as 
you know, come to a dificul passage 
in our work on your сазе. I refer of 
course to the hiatus between the dis 
of the De Bleuville linc 
nc of the French Revo- 
lution and the emergence of the Blofeld 
family, or families. in the neighborhood 
of Augsburg, Aud —" Bond paused im- 


e occ 


"in the latter context I may 
later have a proposal that I hope will 
find favor with you. But what I am 
coming to is this. You have already 
expended serious funds on our work, 
and it would not have been fair to 
suggest that the researches should go 
forward unless there was а substantial 
ү of hope in the sky. The possibility of 
such a ray existed, but it of such a 
nature that it definitely di 
physical confrontation." 

“Is that so? And for what purpose, 
may 1 ingu 

James Bond recited Sable Basilisk's 

nples of the Hapsburg lip. the royal 

nd the oth He then leaned 

ard in his chair for emphasis, "And 

physical peculiarity exists in con- 

n with the De Bleuvilles. You did 
not know this?” 

“I was not re of it, What is 

“I have good news for you, Count. 
Bond smiled his coi 
the De Bleuville effigies or portraits that 
we have been able to trace have been 
distinctive in one vita 
inhe 
the 

The Counts ha 
cars and felt 0 

"] see,” he 
He reflected. 
for y у photograph, 
would not е been sufficient?“ 

Bond looked embarrassed. “I am sorry, 
Count. But that was the ruling of Garter 
King of Arms. 1 am only a junior Iree- 
Tance research worker for one of the 
Pursuivants. He i 
in these matters from above. I hope 
you will appreciate that the College has 
to be extremely strict in cases concerned 
with a most ancient and honorable tide 
such as the one in question. 

The dark pools aimed themselves at 
Bond like the muzzles of guns. "Now that 
you have seen what you came to see, you 
regard the title as in question?” 

This was the worst hurdle. “WI I 
en certainly allows me to recom- 
mend that the work should continue, 

ıd 1 would say 
success have gm 
1 have brought out the materials 
lor a first sketch of the Line of Descent, 
and tha a matter of days, 1 could 
lay before you. But alas, as I h. ў 
there are still many gaps, and it is most 
impor Sable Basilisk 
particularly about the stages of your 
family's migration from Augsburg to 
lynia. [t would be of the greatest help 
if 1 might question you closely about 


d to see this 


п turn takes his orders 


t for me to satis! 


your parentage in the male line. Even 
details about your father and grand- 
father would be of the greatest assist- 


would be 
you could 
day to accompany me to A 

i andwriting of these 


ance. And then, of course, 
of the utmost. importance 
spare 
burg to 


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PLAYBOY 


176 


Blofeld families in the Archives. their 
Christi; mes and other family de- 
Is, awaken amy memories ог connec- 
your mind. The res would 
n with us at the College. 1 
re no more 11 week on 
work. But I am at your dispa if 
you wish it. 

The Count got 
followed suit. He w 
to the railing and admired the view. 
Would this bedraggled fly be taken? 
Bond now desperatcly hoped so. During 
the int v he ha to one certain 
iot a single one 


tions d 


to his feet, Bond 
Ікеа casually over 


cl со! 
conclusion. There was 
of the peculiarities in the Counts ap- 


pearance that could have been 


not 


achieved by good acting and by the 


mest refined f 


and stomach surgery 
applied to the original Blofeld. Only 
the eyes could not have been tampered 
with. And the eyes were obscured 
"You think that with patient work, 
h the inclusion of a few q 
marks where the connecting I 
obscure, I would achieve an Acte de 
Notoriété that would satisfy the Minister 
of Justice in P. 
"Most certainly,” lied Bond. "With 
the authority of the College in support." 
The fixed smile widened minutely 
"That would give me much satisfaction, 
Sir Hilary. I am the Comte de Bleuville. 
n of it in my heart, in my 
There was real fervor in the 
“But 1 at my 
tide shall be officially recognized. You 
will be most welcome to remain as my 
guest and 1 shall be constantly at your 


even wi 


voice. am determined th 


hint 

tion, Ill right, 

Count, And thank you. I will go and 
make a start straightaway.” 


ın in a white coat with the 
conventional white gauze of the labora 


tory worker over the lower half of his 
face. Bond attempted no conversation. 
He was now well inside the fortress, 


but he would have to continue ıo walk 
on tiptoe amned. careful wh 
he put hi 

He returned to his room 
one of the giant sheets of sq 
with which he had be 
sat down at his table and wr 
the top center of the paper 
laume de Bleuville, 1207-121. 
¢ were 500 years of De 
h their wives and children 
copied down from his books 
That would fill up an impressive numbe 
of pages with impeccable fact. He could 
certainly spread that chore over three 
дуз, interspersed with more tricky work 
— gassing with Blofeld about the Blofeld 
end of the story. Fortunately there were 
some nglish Blofields he could throw 
make-weight. Aud some Bluefields 
nd Blumfields. He could start some 
pretty hares running in those directions! 
And, in between these idiotic ac s. 
he would ferret and ferret away the 
mystery of what in hell the new Blofeld, 
the new SPECTRE, were up to! 

One thing was certain, they had al- 
ready been through his belongings. Be- 
fore going for his interview, Bond had 
gone into the bathroom, away from that 
gly watchful hole in the ceiling, 
pulled out half а 
These, while he h 


d got out 


it 


port. The ! re all gone. Somc- 
one had been through all his hooks. He 
got up and went to the chest of drawers, 
ostensibly for dkerchief. Yes, th 


"Two to five years [rom now, Briggs. we'll 
probably look back at this and laugh." 


his things had all been minutely dis- 
turbed. Unemotionally he went back to 
his work. thanking heaven he had trav- 
cled n a whistle! But by God 
he'd ha He 
didn’t at all like the thought of that опе 
way trip down the bob run! 

Bond got as far as 1350 and then the 
noise from the ver ише too dis- 
tracting. Anyway, he had done a respect- 
able sti most to the bottom of the 
o out and do a 
ig. He wanted 
rather coni 
and this would be a perfectly rca- 
ble activity for a newcomer. He 
left his door into the pasig 
went out and along to the reception 
Jounge, where the man in m coat 
was busy ente 
ing's visitors in Г 
was politely answered. There was а ski 
room and workshop to the left of the 
exit. Bond wandered in. One of the Bal- 
k: 
a new binding с 
up and then went on with his work 
while Bond gazed with seeming curiosity 

t the ks of skis standi 
s had changed 
The bindings were quite different 
designed, it seemed, to keep the heel 
dead Aat on the ski. And there were new 
safety releases. Many of the skis were of 
metal and the ski sticks were fiberglass 
lances that looked to Bond extremely 
dangerous in the event of a bad fall. 


Bond wandered over to the workbench 


nd feigned interest in what the man was 
doing. In fact he had seen something 
that excited him very much — ап untidy 
pile of lengths of th 1 
the boot to rest on i 
th 


the bindi 
at, on the shiny surface, sn 
not ball under the sole. Bond leaned 
over the workbench, resting on his right 


elbow, and commented о 
of the man’s work. The man grunted and 
concentrated all the more closely to avoid 
further conversation. Bond's left hand 
slid unde g arm. secured one 
of the strips and slid it up his sleeve. He 
made a further inane comment, which 
niswered, and strolled out of the 


(When the man 
the front door 


ı the workshop heard 
55 shut, he turned to the 
ted them 
fully twice. Then he went out to the 
the plum-colored coat and spoke 
in German, The man nodded and 
picked up the telephone rece 
dialed O. The workman went stol 
back to his ski room.) 

As Bond suolled along the path thi 
Jed to the cable station, he 
the plastic strip from his sleeve to hi 
brouser pocket, feeling pleased 
self. He had at least provided. himself 
with опе tool — the traditional burglar’ 


s 
tool for opening the Yale-type locks that 


ith him- 


secured the doors. 

Away from the clubhouse, 10 which 
only a thin trickle of smartlooking peo- 
ple were n their way, he 
the usual mountaintop crowd — people 
swarming out of the саре 
wobbling or schussing down 


nursery slopes on the plate 
groups marshaled under individual 
teachers and guides from the valley. The 


terrace of the public restaurant was al- 
ready crowded with the underprivileged 
who hadn't got the money or the coi 
nections to join the club, He walked 
below it on the well-trampled snow and 


stood amongst the skiers at the top of 


the first. plung schuss of the Gloria 
А large notice board, crowned with 


run. 
the G and the coronet, announced GLORIA 
ABFAHRT! Then below, ROT — FREIE 

GELB — FREIE FAHRT. SCHWARZ — 


ng that the red and ye 
low runs were open but the black closed 
presumably because of avalanche dange 
Below this again was a painted metal 
map of the three runs. Bond had a good 
look at it, reflecting that it might be wise 
to commit to memory the red, whi 
presumably the c nd most popu 
"There were red, yellow and black m; 
flags on the map. 
actual flags flutering way down the 
mountain until the runs, studded with 
tiny moving figures, disappeared to the 
left, round the shoulder of the mountain 
па under the cable railway. The red 
seemed to continue to zigzag under the 
cable and between the few high pylons 
until it met the trceline. Then there 
was a short stretch of wood-running until 
the final casy schuss across the undula 
ing lower meadows to the bottom сай 
head, beyond which lay thc mai 
railway line and then the Pontresi 
Samaden road. Bond tried to get it all 
fixed in his mind. Then he watched some 
of the starts These varied from the 
arrowlike e of the Kannonen, the 
stars, who took the terrific schuss di 
straight in a low crouch w 
jauntily tucked. under thei 
the average amateur who braked perhaps 
three or four times on his way down, to 
the terrified novice who, with stuck-out 
behind, stemmed his way down, his skis 
angled and cdged like a snowplow, with 
occasional straight runs diagonally across 
the polished slope — dashing little sprints 
that usually ended mild crash as he 
n off the flattened into the 
thick powder snow that edged the wide, 
aten piste. 

The scene was the same as a thousand 
others Bond had witnessed when, as a 
ger, he learned his skiing in the old 
ines Schneider School at St. Anton 
п the Arlberg. He had got pretty good 
and had won his golden K, but the style 
in those days was rudimentary compared 
with what he was now witnessing from 
the occasional expert who zoomed down 


ker 
nd Bond could sce the 


ra sur 


and away from beside him. Today the 
metal skis seemed to ru ter and truer 
than the old stecl-edged hickory. There 
was less shoulderwork and the art of 
Wedeln, a gentle waggling of the hip 
was a revelation. Would it be as effective 
in deep new snow as it was on the well- 
beaten piste? Bond was doubtful, but 
he was envious of it. It was so much more 
graceful than the old Arlberg crouch. 
Bond wondered how he would fare on 
this terrific run. He would certainly not. 
dare to take the first schuss straight. He 
would brake at least twice, perhaps 
there and there. And his legs would be 
uembling before he had been going for 
five minutes. His knees and ankles and 
sts would be giving out. He must get 
on with his exercises! 

Bond, excited, left the scene and fol- 
lowed arrows that pointed to the GLORIA 
EXPRESS вов RUN. It lay on the other side 
of the cable st There was a small 
wooden hut, the starter's hut, with tele- 
phone wires connected to thc stati 
nd, beneath the cable station, a little 
garage" that housed the bobslei ad 
one-man skeleton bobs. A chain, with a 
notice on it saying ABFAHRTEN TÄGLICH 
0900-1100, was stretched across the wide 
mouth of the gulch of blue ice that 
curved to the left and then disip- 
peared over the shoulder. Here again 
was a metal map showing the zigzag 
course of the run down into the valley. 
In deference to the English traditions 


wi 


of the sport, outstanding curves and 
hazards were marked with names such 
Leap,” "WhizzBang 

“Battling 5," "Hell's Delight,” 

"Ehe Bonesha nd the finishing 
straight dow Bond 
ed the scene that morning, heard 


that heart-rending scream. Yes, 


n Irma Bunt, her short 
anms а ng on the path 
to the club. 

“Lunchtime! Lunch!” 

Bond called back, and 
strolled up the slope toward her. He 
noted that, even in that hundred yards, 
his breathing was shallow and his limbs 
were heavy. This blasted height! He 
really must get into taining! 

He came up with her. She looked surly. 
He said that he was sorry, he had not 
noticed the time. She said nothing. The 
yellow eyes surveyed him with active dis- 
like before she turned her back and led 
the way along the path 

Bond looked back over the morning. 
What had he donc? Had he made а mis- 
шке? Well, he just might have. Better 
reinsure! As they came through the en- 
trance into the reception lounge, Bond 
casually, “Oh, by the way. Fräulein 
I was in the ski room just now.” 


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She halted. Bond noticed that the head 
of the receptionist bent a fraction lower 
over hi book. 

^Y. 

Bond took the length of plastic out of 
his pocket. “I found just what I wanted. 
He stitched a smile of innocent pl 
on his face. “Like an idiot I forgot to 
bring a ruler with me. And there were 
these things on the workbench. Just 
right. So I borrowed one. I hope that 
1 right. Of course I'll leave it be- 
d when I go. But for these family 
Bond sketched a 
aight lines in the 
air— "one has to get them on the right 
levels. 1 hope you don't mind.“ He 

iled charmingly. "1 was going to 
confess the next time I saw you 

Irma Bunt veiled her c; 
consequence. In future, a 
need you will perhaps ring for, isn't it? 
The Count wishes you to have every fa- 
cility. Now —" she gestured —"if you will 
perhaps go out on the terrace. You will 
be shown to our table. I will bc with you 
in a moment." 

Bond went through the restaurant 
Чоо: veral of the interior tables were 
occupied by those who had had enough 
sun, He went across the room and out 
through the now open French windows. 
The man Fritz, who appeared to be the 
maitre d'hótel, came toward him through 
the crowded tables. His eyes too were 
cold with hostility. He held up a menu. 
"Please to follow me.” 

Bond followed. 


n to the table up 
Ruby and Violet 
Bond íclt almost 


lighthearted with relief at having clean 
hands again. By God, he must pay atten- 
tion, take care! This time he had got 


away with it. And he still had the strip 
of plastic! Had he sounded innocent 
enough, stupid enough? He sat down and 
ordered a double medium-dry vodka 
martini, on the rocks, with lemon peel, 
and edged his foot up 

She didn't withdraw hers, She smiled. 
Violet smiled. They 


iulein Bunt appe: ad took her 
place. She was gracious again. "I am 
ll be stay- 
Hil- 


ary. You enjoyed your i 
the Count? Is he not int 
“Very interesting. 
talk was too shor 
my own subjec 
him about his гезе; 
didn’t think me very rude. 
Irma Bunts face closed perceptibly. 
not. The Count does not 
10 discuss his work. In these 
ized scientific fields, you under 
id, there is much jealousy and, T am 
sorry to say, much intellectual th 
The boslike smile. "I do not of course 
refer to yourself, my dear Sair Hilary, 


ng to ask 
1 hope he 


but to scientists less scrupulous than the 
Count, to sp com- 
panies, That is why we keep very much 
to ourselves in our little cagle's nest up 
here. We | y. Even the 


ding 
appreciate what the Count is doi 

The study of allergi 
Just so." The maitre 


d'hótel was 
feet came to- 
h a perceptible click, Menus 


were handed round and Bond's drink 
came. He took a long pull at it and or- 
dered Oeufs Gloria and a green salad. 


Chicken again for Ruby, cold cuts “with 
stacks of potatoes” for Violet. Irma Bunt 
ordered her usual cottage cheese and 
salad. 
“Don't you girls cat anyth 
chicken 
to do wi llergics: 
Ruby Well, yes, in a way. 
Somehow I've come to simply love . . - 
Irma Bunt broke in sharply 
then, Ruby. No discussion of treatments, 
? Not суеп with our good. 
Hilary." She waved a hand 
tov ага the crow E tables around them. 


but 


Everybody who is a 
ойу. Mie have quite ta i 
tio лу from Gs d 
Mori your Duke of Marlbor- 
ough over there with such a gay party of 
young things. And nearby that is Sir 


Whitney and. Lady Daphne Stra 
she not cl They are both wonderful 
skiers. And that beautiful girl with the 


long fair hair at the big table, that is 
Ursula Andress, the film star. What a 
wonderful tan she has! And Sir George 
Dunbar, he always has the most encha 
ng companions." The boxlike smil 
Why, we only need the Aga Khan and 
perhaps your Duke of Kent and we 
would have everybody, but c bod! 

Is it not sen al for the first scasoi 

Bond said it w "Fhe lunch came. 
Bond's сщз were delicious— chopped 
hard-boiled eggs, with a cream-and- 
cheese sauce laced with English mustard 
(English mustard seemed to be the clue 
to the Gloria specialties) gratins in a 
copper dish. Bond commented on the 
excellence of the cooking. 

“Thank you," sid Irma Bunt. 
have three expert Frenchmen in the 
kitchen. Men are very good at cooking. 
is it not?” 

Bond felt rather than saw a man ap- 
proaching their table. He came up to 
Bond. He was a military locking man, 
of about Bond's nd he had а puz- 
zled expression on his face. He bowed 
slightly to the ladies and said to Bond, 

Excuse me, but I saw your name in the 


“We 


ity and he had pre- 
pared a fumbling counter to it. But this 


was the worst possible moment with that 
damned woman watching and listening! 

Bond said, “Yes, it is“ with heartiness. 

“Sir Hilary Bray?” The pleasant face 
was even more puzzled. 

Bond got to his feet and stood with 
his back to his table, to Irma Bunt. 
“That's right" He took out his hand- 
kerchief and blew his nose to obscure 
the next question, which might be fatal. 

“In the Lovat Scouts dur 

“Ah,” said Bond. He looked worried, 
lowered his voice appropriately. “You're 
of my first cousin, From Ben 


thinking 


inher en the J 


“Oh. lord!" The man's puzzlement 
cleared. Grief took its place. "Sorry to 
hear that. Great pal of mine in the war. 


Funny! 1 didn't see anythi bout it in 
the Times. Always read the ‘Births, Ma 
ges and Deaths.” What was it?” 
Bond felt the sweat running down 
under his arms. “Fell off one of those 
bloody Broke his 
neck.” 

“My God! Poor chap! But he was al- 
ways fooling around the tops by him- 
self. I must write to Jenny at once.” He 
held out his hand. “Well, sorry to have 
butted in. Thought this was a funny 
place to find old E . Well, so long, 
and sorry again." He moved off between 
the tables. Out of the corner of his eye, 
Bond saw him rejoin very English-look- 
ing table of men and, obviously, wives, 
to whom he began talking animatedly. 

Bond sat down, reached for his drink 
and drained it and went back to his eggs. 
The woman's eyes were on him. He felt 


the sweat running down his face. He 
took out his handkerchief and mopped 
at it. “Gosh, it's hot out here in the sun! 


That was some pal of my first cousin's. 
My cousin had the same name. Collateral 
branch. Died not long ago, poor chap.” 
He frowned sadly. “Didn't know this 
man from Adam. Nice-looking fellow 
Bond looked bravely across the table. 
“Do you know апу of his party, Fraulein 
Bune? 

Without looking at the party, Fráu- 
lein Bunt said shortly, “Мо, I do not 
know everyone who comes here.” The 
yellow eyes were still inquisitive, holding 
his. “But it was a curious coincidence. 
wi very alike, you and your 
cousii 

‘Oh, absolutely." said Bond. gushing. 
"Spit image. Often used to get taken 
for each other." He looked across at the 
Ene group. Thank God they were 


you 


un smart or pros 


perous. Probably staying at Pontres 
or under the cx-olficers scheme 
Moritz, Typical English skiing p: 


With any luck they were just doing the 
big runs in the neighborhood one by 
one. Bond reviewed the way the conver- 
sation had gone while сойсе came and 


he made cheerful small talk with Ruby 
whose foot was again clamped a 
his, about her skiing progress that morn- 
ing 

Well, he decided the woman couldn't 
have heard much of it with all the clat- 
ter and chatter from the surrounding 
tables. But it had been а damned-narrow 
squeak, The second of the day! 

So much for walking on tiptoe inside 
the enemy lines! 

Not good enough! Definitely not good 
enough! 


My dear Sable Basilisk, 

y— by helicopter, 
if you please! — at this beautiful 
place called Piz Gloria, 10,000 feet 
up somewhere in the Engadine. 
Most comfortable with an excellent 
male staff of several nationalities 
id а most efficient secretary to the 
med Fräulein Irma Bunt 
vho comes from Munich. 

most profitable interview 
morning as a 
result of which he wishes me to stay 
оп for a week to complete the first 
draft of his genealogical tree. 1 do 
hope you can spare me for so long. 
1 warned the Count that we had 
m Jom- 


ch work to do on the new 
himself, 


nonwealth States He 
though busily e 
sounds like very publics 
search work on 
cause (he has 10 E 
s his patients), 1 

me daily 
we may be able to bridge 115 
between the migration of the De 
Bleuvilles from France and their 
subsequent transference, as Blofelds, 
from Augsburg to Gdynia. I have 
suggested to him that we conclude 
the work with a quick visit to Augs- 
burg for the purposes you and I 
discussed, s not yet given 


but he h 


¢ his decision. 

Please tell my cousin Jenny Bray 
that she may be hearing from a 
friend of her late husband who ap- 
parently served with him in the 
Lovat Scouts. Не came up to me at 
lunch ıd took me for the 
other Hilary! Quite a. coincidence! 

Working cor e excellent 
We have complete privacy here, 
secure. [r workl of 

iers, and very sensibly the 
fined to their rooms after 10 at 
ight to put them out of the temp: 
tation of roaming and 
They seem а very nice lot, from all 


toda: 


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The Count has not got lobes to his 
ears! Isn't that good news! He 

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His slim figure als 5 noble 
extraction. Unfortunately he has to 
wear darkgreen contact lenses be- 
cause of weak eyes and the strength 


of the sunsl 
his aquiline позе is blemished by a 
would 


deformed nostril which I 
have thought could casily ha 
put right by facial surgery. 
speaks impeccable English a 
gay lilt to his voice and 1 am sure 
that we will get on very well. 

Now to get down to business. It 
would be most helpful if you would 
get in touch with the old printers 
of the Almanach de Gotha and see 
if they can help us over our gaps 
in the lineage. They may have some 
traces. Cable anything helpful. With 
the new evidence of the car lobes 1 
am quite confident that the connec- 
tion exists, 

"That's all for now. 

Yours ever, 
Hilary Bray 

P.S. Don't tell my mother, or she 

will be worried for my safety among 

the eternal snows! But we had a 

nasty accident here this morning. 

ИП, a Yugoslav it seems, 

slipped on the bob run and went the 

whole way to the bottom! Terrible 

atly being 

ed in Pontresina tomorrow. Do 

you think we ought to send some 
kind of a wreath? Н.В. 


Bond read the letter several times. 
Yes, that would give the officers in 
charge of Operation “Corona” plenty to 
bite on. Particularly the hint that they 
should get the dead man’s name from 
the registrar in Pontresina. And he had 
covered up a bit on the Bray mix-up 
when the letter, as Bond was sure it 
would be, was steamed open 
stated before dispatch. They 
course just destroy it. To pre ent this, 
the bit of bogosity about the Almanach 
de Gotha would be а clincher. This 
source of heraldic knowledge hadn't 
been mentioned before. It would surely 
excite the interest of Blofeld. 

Bond rang the bell, handed out the 
letter for dispatch, and got back to his 
work, which consisted initially of going 
ito the bathroom with the strip of plas- 
tic and his scissors in his pocket and 
shipping two inch-wide strips off the 
end. These would be enough for the 
purposes he and, he hoped, Ruby would 
put them to. Then, using the first joint 
of his thumb rough guide, he 
18 inches into 
ach measures, to support his lie about 
the ruler, and went back to his de: nd. 
to the next hundred years of the De 
Bleuvilles. 

At about five o'clock the light got so 
bad that Bond got up from his table 


and stretched, preparatory to going over 
to the light switch near the door. He 
took a last look out of the window before 
he closed it. The veranda was completely 
deserted and the foam-rubber cushions 
for the reclining chairs had already been 


taken in. From the direction of the 
cablehead there still came the whine of 
гу that had been part of the 


background noises of the day. Yesterday 
the railway had closed at about five, and 
it must be time for th ist pair of 
gondolas to complete their two-way jo 
ney and settle in their respective stations 
for the night. Bond closed the double 
windows, walked across to the thermo- 
stat and put it down to 70. He was just 
about to reach for the light switch when 
there came а very soft tapping at the 
door. 

Bond kept his voice low. “Come in!” 

The door opened and quickly closed 
to within an inch of the lock. It was 
Ruby. She put her fingers to her lips 
and gestured toward the bathroom. Bond, 
highly intrigued, followed her in and 
shut the door. Then he turned on the 
light. She was blushing. She whispered 
imploringly, “Oh, please forgive me, Sir 
Hilary. But 1 did so want to talk to you 
for a second.” 

"Thats finc, Ruby. 
bathrooms“ 

“Oh, didn't you know? No, I suppose 
you wouldn't It's supposed to be a 
secret, but of course I can tell vou. You 
won't let on, will you?" 

"No. of course not.“ 

Vell, all the rooms have microphones 
in them. T don't know where. But some- 
times we girls have got together in each 
other's rooms, just for a gossip, you 
know, and Miss Bunt has always known. 
We think they've got some sort of tele- 
vision, too.” She giggled. “We always un- 
dress in the bathroom. It's just a sort of 
feeling. As if one was being watched the 
whole time. I suppose it's something to 
do with the treatment.” 

"Yes, 1 expect so. 

“The point is, Sir Hilary, I was tre- 
mendously excited by what you were say- 
ing at lunch today, about Miss Ви 
perhaps being а duchess. I mean, is that 
really possible?” 

“Oh yes,” said Bond airily. 

“I was so disappointed at mot being 


But why the 


able to tell you my surname. You sce, 
you se her eyes were wide w 
excitement — “it's Windsor!” 


“Gosh,” said Bond, "that's interesting!" 

“1 knew you'd зау that. You see, 
there's alw alk in my family that 
nected with the Royal 


“1 can quite understand that.” Bond's 
voice was thoughtful, judicious. “I'd like 
to be able todo some work on that. What 
were your parents’ names? 1 must have 
them first.” 

“George Albert Windsor and Mary 


He was Albert 
Ruby’s knuckles went up 


хопа. 
"Oh golly 
to her mouth. 
of course all this needs a lot of 
we on. Where do you come from in 
nd? Where were you bor 
Morecambe Вау, 
where the shrimps come from. But a lot 
оГ poultry, too. You know." 
"So that's why you love chicken so 
much. 


o." She seemed surprised. by 


rk. “Th You 
s allergic to chickens. 1 simply 
them — all those. feathers, 
the stupid pecking, the mess and the 
smell. 1 loathed them. Even cating 
chicken brought me out in a sort of ra 
It was awful, and of course my parents 
werc mad at me, they being poultry farm- 
ers in quite a big way and mc being 
supposed to help clean out the batteries 
you know, those modern mass-produced 
chicken places. And then one day I saw 
this advertisement in the paper, in the 
Poultry Farmers Gazette. It said that 
anyone suffering from chicken allergy — 
the 
apply for a course of re... of re . 
a cure in a Swiss institute doing rese 
work on the thing. All expenses and £10 
a week pocket money. R. ke those 
people who yo and in that 
place that's trying to find a cure for 
colds.” 


followed а long Latin name — could 
. for 


said Bond encouragingly. 
pplied and my fare was paid 
down to London and I met Miss Bunt 
and she put me through some sort of 
xam." She giggled. "Heaven only knows 
how I passed it. as T failed my G.C.E. 
twice, But she said I was just what the 
Institute wanted and I came out here 
bout two months ago. Its not bad. 
‘They terribly strict. But the Count 
has absolutely cured trouble. I simply 
love chickens now eyes became 
suddenly rapt. "I think they're just the 
most wonderful birds in the world.” 

“Well, that’s a jolly good show,” said 
Bond, totally mystified. "Now about your 
ame. I'll get to work on it right away. 
But how are we going to talkz You all 
seem to be pretty carefully organized. 
How can I sec you by yourself? The ошу 
place is my room or yours.” 

“You mean af night?” The big blue 
eyes were wide with fright, excitement, 


" He 


s the only way.” Bond took a 
bold step toward her and kissed her full 
on the mouth. He put his arms round 
her clumsily. And you know 1 think 
you're terribly attractive. 

"Oh, Sir Hilar 

But she didn't recoil. She just stood 
there like a great lovely doll, passive, 


slightly calculat nting to be a prin- 
cess. “But how would you get out of 
here? They're terribly strict. A guard 
goes up and down the passage every so 
often. ОГ course—" the сус» were cal- 
culating — it's uue that I'm next door 
to you, in number three ly. If 
only we had some way of getting oui 

Bond took one of the inch strips of 
plastic out of his pocket and showed it to 
her. “I knew you were somewhere close 
to me. Instinct, 1 suppose. [Cad!] | 
armed a thing or two in the Army. You 
can get out of these sort of doors by slip- 


acu 


ш this in the door crack in front of 
the lock and. pushing. It slips the Latch. 


Here, take this, Гуе got a,! But 
hide it away. And promise not to tell 
anyone. 

'Ooh! You are a one! But of course I 
promise, But do you think there's any 
hope = about the Windsors, | mean?" 
Now she put her arms round his nec 
round the witch doctor's neck, and the 
big blue orbs gazed appealingly into his. 

You definitely mustn't rely on it. 
said Bond firmly, trying to get back an 
ounce of his self-respect. “But TU have 
a quick look now in my books. Not 
ic before drinks. Anyway, we'll 
" He gave her another long and. he 
admitted to himself, extremely splendid 
kiss, to which she responded with an ani 
malism that slightly salved hi 
"Now then, baby." His right hand ran 
down her back to the curve of her be 
hind. to which he gave an encouraging 
and hastening pat. "We've got to get you 
out of here." 

His bedroom was dark. They listened 
at the door like two children playing 


conscience. 


h 
lence. He inched ope 
the behind an extra 
gone. 

Bond paused for a moment. Then he 
switched on the light. The innocent 
room smiled at him. Bond went to his 
table and reached Гог the Dictionary of 
British Surnames. Windsor, Windsor, 
Windsor. Here we are! Now then! As he 
bent over the small print, an important 
reflection seared his spy's mind like a 
All right. So sexual per- 
well. were а main 
reed for money 
t about that. 
most insidious of vices, snobbery? 

Six o'clock came. Bond had a nagging 
headache, brought on by hours of pori 
over 1.5. books and 
aggravated by the lack of oxygen at the 
high altitude. He needed a drink, three 
drinks. He had a quick shower and 
smartened himself up, g his bell for 
the "warder" and went along to the bar. 
Only a few of the girls were already there. 
Violet sat alone at the bar and Bond 
joined her. She scemed pleased to sce 
him. She was drinking a daiquiri. Bond 
ordered another and, for himself, a dou- 
ble bourbon on the rocks. He took a 
deep pull at it and put the squat glass 
down. “By God. 1 needed that! I've been 
working like a slave all day while you've 
been waltzing about the ski slopes in the 
sun!” 

“Have I indeed!” A slight Irish brogue 
came out with the indignation. “Two 
lectures this morning, [rightfully boring, 
and I had to catch up with my reading 
most of this afternoon. I'm way behind 


g was in si- 
the door. He gave 


pat and she was 


t reference 


sm: 


“This certainly is the best service in town!” 


181 


PLAYBOY 


h it.“ 
What sort of rc: 

“Oh, sort of agriculuural stuff.“ The 
dark eyes watched him carefully. “We're 
not supposed to talk about our cures, you 
know.” 

‘Oh, well,” said Bond cheerfully, “then 
let's talk about something else. WI here do 
you come from?" 

“Ireland, The South. 

Bond had a shot in the dark. “All tha 


ling?" 


Yes. th ight. I used to hate them. 
Nothing but рошов to eat 


get back. Funny, 

"Your family ll be pleased.” 

“You can say tl a! And my bo 
fricnd! He's on the wholesale side. I said 
I wouldn't marry anyone who had any- 
ag to do with the damned. dirty. ugly 


ws. He's going to get a shock all 
right...” 
How's hat?" 


“AI Гус learned about how to im- 
prove the crop, The latest scientific ways, 
chemicals, and so on." She put her hand 
up to her mouth, She glanced swiftly 
round the room, at the bartender. To sce 
if anyone had heard this innocent stuff. 
She put on a hostess smile. “Now you 
tell me what you've been working on, 
Sir Hilary.” 

“Oh, just some heraldic stuff for the 
Count. Like I was talking about at lunch. 
you'd find it frightfully dry 


stull.“ 
“Oh по, I wouldn't. I was terribly in- 


tcrested in what you were saying to Miss 
Bunt. You scc — " she lowered her voice 
and spoke into her raised glass — "I'm 
zn O'Neill. They used to be kings of 
Northern Ireland. Do you think . . .” 
She had эсеп something over his shoulder. 
She went on smoothly, "And I simply 
can't get my shoulders round enou: 
And when I try to I simply overbalance, 

„raid I don't know anything about 
skiing,” said Bond loudly 

Irma Bunt appeared in the mirror over 
the b; Ah, Sair Hilary." She inspected 
his face. "But yes, you are already getting 
a little of the sunbui t iP Come! 
Let us go and sit down. I sce poor Miss 
Ruby over there all by herself.” 

They followed her meckly. Bond wa 
amused by the lite undercurrent of 
rule-breaking that went on among the 
girls —the typical resistance pattern. to 
strict discipli: 
deous matron. He must be care- 
ful how he handled it. useful though it 
was proving. It wouldn't do to get these 
girls too much “on his side.” But. 
because the Count didn't want him to 
know them, he must somehow ferret 
away at their surnames and addresses, 
That was the word! Ruby would 
ferret. Bond sat down beside her, 
the back of his ha ually brushing 


ind the governessy ways 


id ca 


182 against her shoulder. 


More drinks were ordered. The bour- 
to uncoil Bond's геп. 
d of occupying 
his whole head, ized itself be- 
hind the right temple. He said, gaily, 
Shall we play the game ag: 

There was a chorus ol 


bon was be 


sions. His h 


glass and paper napkins were brought 
from the bar and now more of the girls 


Bond handed round сй 
and the girls pulled vigorously. occasion- 
ally choking over the smol iven Irma 
Bunt seemed infected by the laughter 
and squeals of excitement as the cobweb 
of paper became more and more tenuous. 
Careful! Gently, Elizabeth! Aycel But 
now you have done it! And there was 
still this little corner that was safe! 

Bond was next to her. Now he sat back 

nnd suggested that the girls should have 
а game among themselves. He turned to 
Fräulein Bunt. "By the way, if can find 
the time, it crossed my mind that it might. 
be fun to go down in the cable car and 
pay a visit to the valley. I gathered from 
alk among the crowds today that St. 
Moritz is the other side of the valley. I've 
there. ТА love to see 

“Alas, my dear Sair Hi but that is 
against the rules of the house. Guests 
here, and the staff too, have no access to 
the Seilbahn. That is only for the tour 
ists. Here we keep ourselves to ourselves. 
We are — how shall I say? — a little de 
cated community. We observe the rules 
almost of a monastery. It is better so, 
isn't i? Thus we can pursue our 
researches in peace." 

“Oh, I quite see that.” Bond's smile 
was understanding, friendly, “But I 
hardly count myself as а patient here, 
really, Couldn't an exception be made: 

“I think that would be a 
Hilary. And surely you will need all the 

me you have to complete your du 
for the Count. е it was an order — 
„that 

" She 
pped her 
TE Ald fow * she called, 
is time for the supper. Come along! 


joined i 


never be 


It had only been a try-on, to sec what 
form the negative answer would tak 
But, as Bond followed her into the din- 
ing room. it was quite an effort to re- 
strain his right shoe from giving Irma 
Bunt a really tremendous kick in her 


tight, bulging behind. 


Tt was II o'clock and the place was as 
quiet as the grave. Bond, with due re- 
spect for the eye in the ceiling, went 
through the motions of going to the bath- 
room and then climbing into bed and 
switching off his light. Не gu 


and shirt. Work! 


pulled on his trouser 
by touch, he slipped the end of the inch 
of plastic into the door crack, found the 
lock and pressed gently. The edge of the 


plastic caught the curve of the lock and 
slid it back. Bond now only had to push 
gently and the door wa He 
tened, his ears pricked like an animal 
"Then he carefully put his head out. The 
empty corridor yawned at him. Bond 
slipped out of the door, closed it softly, 
took the few steps along to number 
three and gently turned the handle. It 
was dark inside but there was a stirring 
in the bed. Now to avoid the click of the 
shutting door! Bond took his bit of plas- 
tic and got it against the lock, holding it 
in the mortise. Then he ied the door 
shut, at the same time gently withdraw- 
ing the plastic. The lock slid noisclessly 


“Yes, darling.” Bond slid out of his 
dothes and. assuming the same geogra- 
phy as in his own room, walked gingerly 
over to the bed and sat down on its edge. 

A hand came out of the darkness and 
touched him. “Golly, you've got nothing 
on!" 

Bond caught the hand and reached 
along, it. "Nor have you," he whispered. 
“Th how it should be.” 

Gingerly he lay down on the bed and 
put his head beside hers on the pillow, 
He noticed with a pang of pleasure t 
she had left room for him. He kissed he 
at first softly and then with ferceness. 
Her body stirred. Her mouth yielded to 
his and when his left hand be; its 
exploration she put her а 
“Tm catching cold." Bond followed the 
lic by pulling the sheet 
under him and then covering them both 
with it. The warmth and softness of her 
splendid body were now all his. Bond 
ist her. He drew the 


The velvety skin fluttered. 
small groan and reached down for his 
hand and held it. “You do love me a 
Tittle bit?” 

That awful question! Bond whispered, 
ik you're the most adorable, beau- 
1l. I wish I'd met you before. 
The stale, insincere words seemed to 


be enough. She removed her restraining 
hand. 
Her hair smelt of new-mown summer 


s, her mouth of Pepsodent and her 
body of Mennen's Baby Powder. А small 
night wind rose up outside and moaned 
round д an 
sweetness, an extra warmth, even a cer 
tiin friendship to what was no more 
sion. There 
was real ple at they did to 
cach other. and in the end, when it was 
over and they lay quietly in cach other’ 
arms, Bond knew, and knew that the 
w, that they had done nothing 
done no harm to cach other. 

After a while Bond whispered into her 
hair, "Ruby!" 

"Mmmm." 


the 


building, giv extra 


than an act of physical pa 
ure in wh 


183 


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186 of 


“About your name. About the Wind- 
sors, I'm afraid there's not much hope. 

"Oh, well, I never really believed. You 
know these old family storics.” 

“Anyway, I haven't got enough books 
here. When I get back [Il dig into it 
properly. Promise. III be a question of 
starting with your family and going back 


— church and town records, and so forth 
TI have it done prop ıd send it to 
you lot 


of snazzy print. Hea lics with 
colored letters to start. Ithough 
it mayn't get you anywhere, it might be 
nice to have." 

“You mean 
museums?” 

"That's right.” 

“That'd be nice. 

There was silence in 
Her breathing became 
thought: how extraord: 
of this mountain, а 
from the nearest h ‚їп 
this little тоот silence, 
warmth, happiness = many of the ingre- 
diente of love. It was like making love 
in a balloon. Which 19th Century rake 
had it been who had recorded а bet in 
a London club that he would make love 
to a woman in а balloon? 

Bond was on the edge of sleep. He let 
himself slide down the soft, casy slope. 
Here it was wonderful. It would be just 
as easy for him to get back to his room 
in the carly hours. He softly cased his 
right arm from under the sleeping girl, 
took a lazy glance at his left wrist. The 
big luminous numerals said midnight. 

Bond had hardly tumed over on his 
ht side, up st the soft flanks of 
the sleepin iderneath 
the pillow. under the floor, deep. in the 
bowels of the buil there сате the 
peremptory ringing of a deep-toned, 
melodious electric bell. The girl stirred. 
She said sleepily. "Oh, damn!” 

“Wha 


like old documents in 


the little room. 
regular. Bond 
y! Here on top 
h's run away 
з the vall 


were peace, 


rl, when, from u 


is i 


“Oh, it's only the treatment, I suppose 
it’s midnight? 


es 

“Don't pay any attention. It's only for 
me. Just go to sleep. 

Bond kissed her between the shoulder 
blades but said nothing. 

Now the bell had stopped. In its place 
there started up a droning whine, rather 
like the noise of a very б fan, 
the steady, unvarying 
tock of some 
kind of metronome. The combination of 
the two sounds was wonderfully soothin 
Tt compelled attention, but only just on 
the fringe of consciousness—like the 
night noises of childhood, the slow tick 


st electr 


of the nursery clock combined with the 
sound of the sca or the wind outside. 
And now a voice, the Counts voice, 


c distant wire or tape that 
Bond assumed was the mechanical source 
ll this. The voice was pitched i 


ne over t 


low. singsong murmur, caressing yet au- 
nd every word was distinct. 
g to sleep.” The voice fell 
on the word “sleep.” "You are tired and 
your limbs [eel like lead." Again the fall 
ing cadence on the last word. “Your arms 
feel as heavy as lead. Your breathing is 
quite even. Your breathing is as regular 
à child's. Your eyes are closed and the 
eyelids аге heavy as lead. You are becom- 
tireder and tireder. Your whole body 
is becom red and heavy as lead. You 
are warm and comfortable. You arc slip 
down into sleep. 
bed is as soft and downy as a nest 
as soft and sleepy as a chick 
st. A dear little chicken. fluffy 
and cuddly.” There came the sound of 
а sweet cooing and clucking, the gentle 
brushing together of wings. the болу 
murmuring of mother hens with their 
ch 


me back, 
to sleep. 
comfortable and 
sleepy in th You love them 
dearly, dearly, dearly. You love all 
chickens. You would like to make pets of 
them all. You would like them to grow 
up beautiful and strong. You would like 
no harm to come to them. Soon you will 
be going back to your darling chickens. 
Soon you will be able to look alter them 
again. Soon you will be able to help all 
the chickens of England. You will be able 
we the breed of chickens all over 


“The litte darli 
They are like 


- goin 


yon. 
см». 


ppy. You will be doing so much good 
that it will make you very. very happy 
But you will keep quiet about it. You 
of your methods. They 


will be your own secret, your very own 
secret. People will try and find out your 
secret. But you will say nothing becau 
they might try ke your secre 
from you. And 
able to make your darlin 
happy and healthy and strong. Tho 
sands, millions of chickens made happie 
because of you. So you will say noth 
d keep your secret. You will say not 


id 
then you would not be 


chickens 


ing. nothing 1. You will remember 
what I say. You will remember what T 
sav." The murmuri ice was getting 


her away. The swect coo- 
w of chickens softly ob- 
shing voice. then that too 
died and there was only the electric 
whine and dhe tickpausetock of the 
mctronome 

Ruby was deeply asleep. Bond reached 
ош for her wrist and felt the pulse. It 
was plumb on beat with the metronome. 
And now that, and the whine of the ma- 
chine, receded softly until all was dead 
silence again save for the soft moan of 
the night wind outside. 

Bond let out a deep sigh. So now he 
һай heard it all! He suddenly wanted to 
get back to his room and think. He 
slipped out from under the sheet, 
his clothes and put them on. He manipu 
lated the lock without trouble. There 
was no movement. no sound. in the 
passage. He slipped back into number 
two and cased the door shut. Then he 
went into his bathroom, closed the doo 
switched on the light and sat down о 
the lavatory and put his head in hi 
hands, 

Deep hypnosis! That wa 
heard. The Hidden Persuader! The 
repetitive. singsong message injected into 
the brain while it was on the twilight 
edge of consciousness. Now. in Ruby's 
subconscious. the message would work 
on all by itself through the night. leav- 
ing her, after weeks al repetition, with 
an inbuilt mechanism of obedience to 
the voice that wo s deep, as com 
рейд. as hu 

But what in hell was the message all 
about? Surely it was a most 1 
even a praiseworthy message to 
the simple mind of this count 
had been cured of her allergy 
would return home fully capable of help- 
ing with the f 


farther and 


scured the v 


what he bad 


more than t 
Had the Теор ged his spots? Had 
the old lag become. in the corny. hack 


ply couldn't bel 


those high-powered rrange- 
ments? What about the multiracial stall 
positively stank of smeCrRE? And 


the bob-run murder? Acci 
So soon after the n tempted 
rape of this Sarah girl? An impossible 
coincidence! Malignity must so 
ign. clinical front. of 
gly innocent research out- 


t about 


where 


Jiffies can't be matched by shoe or slipper! No shoe is as comfortable as Jiffies. No slipper is handsome 
enough, or rugged enough, to be worn outdoors. Jiffies are! They come in plenty of cool colors and wild styles 
(some tame ones, too). Jiffies are sold at better stores everywhere. Come to think of it, that's why they're 
better stores. Above: Classic, $3.00 pair.Otherstyles to$5.95 pair. Another fine чү product of i Kayser Roth 


ғов Î мем 
SMARTER THAN SLIPPERS—MORE COMFORTABLE THAN SHOES 


PLAYBOY 


fit! But where? How in hell could he find 
out? 
Bond, exhausted, got up and turned 


off the light in the bathroom and quietly 
got himself into bed. The mind whirred 
on for a sterile hall hour in the over- 
heated brain and then, mercifully, he 
went to sleep. 


When, at nine o'clock, he awoke and 
threw open his windows, the sky was 
overcast with the heavy blank gray that 
meant snow. Over by the Berghaus, the 
Schneefinken and Schneevögel, the snow: 
finches and Alpine choughs, that lived 
on the crumbs and leftovers of the pic 
nickers, were йи па swooping 
dose round the building storm 
The wind had got up and was 
sharp. threatening gusts, 
no whine of machinery came from the 
cable railway. The light alu 
dolas would have too bad a t 
of this strength, pa 


tering 


3 — a su 


blo: 


E 
а good quarter of a the 
posed shoulder beneath the plateau. 

Bond shut the windows and rang for 
his break. ame there wa 
note from on the t 


“The Count will be pleased to receive 
you at II o'clock, 1. B.” 
Bond 


te his breakfast and got down 
ge of De Bleuvilles. He had 
Kk ol work to show up, but 
sy stull. The prospect of suc- 


Blofeld part of the trail was not so en- 
. He would start boldly at the 
end and work back — get the old 
bout his youth and his 
pa scal? Well. damnit, whi 
ever he had become since Operation 
“Thunderball,” rent two Ernst 


1," the 
Stavro Blofelds in the world! 
They met in the Count's study 


"Good 


morning, Si 
well. We are going to have snow 
Count waved toward the window. 
be a good day for work. No dist 
Bond smiled a man-to-man smile. 
certainly find those girls pretty distr: 
ing. But most charmi 
ter with tiem, by th 
healthy с 
The Count was offhand. “They suffer 
gies, Sir Hilary. Crippling al 
the agricultural field. They are 
1 their ibilities alfect 
the possibility of their employment, I 
have devised a cure for such symptoms. 
I am glad to say that the signs are propi- 
tious. We are making much progress to- 
ther. telephone by his side 
buzzed, “Excuse me." The Count picked 
up the receiver and listened! “Ja. 
Machen Sie din Verbindung." He paused. 
Bond politely studied the pap 
brought along. "Zdies De Blenville . .. 
Da... Da... Khavascho!" He put the 


y- 1 hope you slept 
The 


ough.” 


from 


receiver back. “Forgive me. That was 
one of my research workers. He has been 
purchasing some materials for the labo- 


ratories. The cable railw 
they are making 
him. Brave man. 
very sick, poor fellow.” The green con- 
tact lenses hid any sympathy he may have 
feh. The fixed smile showed none. “And 
now, my dear Sir Hilary, let us get on 


ay is dosed, but 
al trip up for 
1 probably be 


with our work.“ 
Bond laid out his big sheets on the 
desk and proudly ran his finger down 


tions. There w 
ction in the Count's 
ions “But this 
my dear 
mention of 
the 


through the gener 
citement a 


„ 


d satisi 
comments. and 
tremendous, т 
fellow. Aud you say there 
а broken spear or a broken sword i 

ms? Now, when was that granted? 
Bond rauled off 


sword had probably been awarded 
More research in 
London would be needed to pin the oc- 
casion down. Finally Bond rolled up the 
sheets and got out his notebook. “And 
how we must start working back from 
the other end, Count.” Bond became 
© your 
908. 


result of some bauk 


quisitorial, authoritative. “We 
birth date in Gdy 
east 


ay 28th, 


“Correct.” 

"Your parents’ names? 
"Ernst George Blofeld 
vro. Michelopoulos." 
“Also born in Gdyn 
“Yes. 
“Now your grandparents 
Ernst Stefan Blofeld and Elizabeth 
Lubomirskaya." 
“Hm. зо the 
amily Christi 
"It would seem so 
father, he was also Ernst.” 


and Ma 


"That is most important. You see, 
Count, among the Blofelds of Augsburg 
there are no less than two Ernsts!” 


The Counts hands had been lying on 
ihe green blotting pad on his desk, re- 
xed. Now, impulsively, they joined to- 
gether and bricfly writhed, showing white 
knuckle 
My God, you've 
Bond. 
nd that is impor 


got it bad! thought 


ш? 
mes run. through 
d them as most signifi- 
сап you remember any 


© covered three generations. With th 
dates I shall later ask you for, we have 
dy got back to around 1850. Only 
other 50 years to go and we shall hı 
vived at Augsburg.” 

No." It was almost 


avy of pain. “My 
- OF him 1 know 

writhed on th 
aps. perhaps. И it 
People, w 


ids 


paper. 
stion of mon 
could be found.” ‘The hands parted, held 
themselves out expansively, "Му dear 
Sir nd 1 are men of the 
wd cach othe 
tracts from es, ге; 
churches — these things, do they hi 
be completely authentic?” 


nesses 


Got you. you fox! Bond said 

bly. with a hint of conspiracy. “I don't 
quite understand what you mean, 
Count, 


The hands w now flat on the desk 
in, happy hands. Blofeld 
nized one of his kind, “You 
working man, Sir Hilary. You live 
сү gion of Scott 


mote 


Life could perhaps be made casier for 
you. There are perhaps material ben 

fis. you desire — motorcars, а yacht, а 
pension. You have only to say the word. 
name a figure.” The dark-green orbs 


bored into Bond's modestly evasive eyes. 
holding them. “Just a little cooperation. 


A visit here and there in Poland and 
Germany and France. Of course your ex 
penses would be heavy. Let us say 
a week The technical matters, 
the documents, and so forth. Those I can 
arrange, It would only require your sup- 
porting evidence. Yes? The Ministry of 
Justice Paris, for them the word of 


how to 
. “What 
not 


play it? Difhdently, 
you are suggesting, Count, 
without interest. Of course —" Bond's 
smile was sufficiently expansive, suffi- 
ciently bland — "if the documents were 
convincing, so to speak solid, very solid, 
then it would be quite reasonable for me 
to authenticate them.” Bond put spaniel 
into his c sking to be patted, to be 
told that everything would be all right, 
that he would be completely protected. 
"You sce what | mean?” 

"The Count began, with force, sincerity, 
“You need have ly no..." when 
there was the noi pproaching 
hubbub down thc The door 
burst open. А man, propelled from be- 
hind, lurched into the room and fell, 
thing, to the floor. 

Two of the guards came stiffly to at- 
tention behind him. They looked first 
at the Count and then, sideway: 
Bond, surprised to see 

The Count said sharply, “Was ist denn 
los?" 

Bond knew the answer and, momen- 
tarily, he died. Behind the snow and the 
blood on the face of the man on the 
floor, Bond recognized the face of a 
man he knew. 

The blond hair, the nose broken box- 
ing for the Navy, belonged to a friend 
ol his in the Service. It was, unm 
bly, Number 2 from Station Z in Zürich! 

Yes, it was Shaun Campbell all right! 
Christ Almighty, what a mess! Station Z 
had especially been told nothing about 
Bond's mission. Campbell must have 
bcen following a lead of his own, prob- 
ably trailing this Russian who had been 
"buying supplies.” Typical of the sort 
of ball ups that oversecurity can produce! 
"phe leading guard was talking in 
pid, faulty German with a Slav accent. 
He was found in the open ski com- 
partment at the back of the gondola. 
Much frozen, but he put up strong re- 
sistance. He had to be subdued. He was 


no doubt following Captain Boris.” The 
man caught himself up. “I mean, your 
guest from the valley, Har Graf. He 


ich. 


s he is an English tourist from Zi 
That he had not got the money for the 
fare. He wanted to pay a visit up here. 
He was searched. He carried 500 Swiss 
anc. No identity papers" The man 
shrugged. “He says his name is Camp- 
bell.” 

At the sound of his name, the man 
on the ground stirred, He lifted his head 


and looked wildly round the room. He 
had been badly battered about the face 
and head with a pistol or a cosh, His 
control was shot to pieces. When his 
eyes lit on the fami face of Bond, he 
looked astonished. then, as if a life buoy 
had been thrown to him, he said hourscly, 
“Thank God, James. Tell ‘em it's me! 
‘Tell ‘em Um from Universal Export. In 
Zürich. You know! For God's sake, 
James! Tell 'em I'm OK." His head fell 
Томага on the carpet. 

The Count's head slowly turned. 10- 
ward Bond. The opaque green eyes 
caught the pale light from the window 
and glinted whitely. The tight, facelifted 
smile was grotesquely horrible. "You 
know this man, Sir Hilary?" 

Bond shook his head sorrowfully. Hc 
w he was pronouncing the death 
sentence on Campbell. “Never seen him 
before in my life. Poor chap. He sounds 
a bit daft to me. Concussed, probably. 
Why not ship him down to a hospital 
in the valley? He looks in a bad way.” 
nd Universal E " The voice 
was silky. “I seem to have heard that 
name befor 

“Well, / haven't,” said Bond indiff 
ently. er heard of He reached 
in his pocket for his cigarettes, lit one 
with a dead steady hand 

The Count turned back to the guards. 
He said softly, "Zur Befragungszelle.” He 
nodded his dismissal. The two guards 
bent down and hauled Campbell up by 
his armpits, The hanging head raised 
itself, gave one last terrible look of ap- 
peal at Bond. Then the man who was 
Bond's colleague was hustled out of the 
room and the door was closed softly 
behind his dragging fect. 

To the interrogation cell! That could 
mean only one thing, under modern 
methods, to How long 


confession! 
would Campbell hold out for? How 
many hours had Bond got left? 

I have told them to take him to the 
sickroom. He will be well looked а 
The Count looked from the papers on 
his desk to Bond. "I am afraid thi: 
happy 
wain of thot r Hilary. So perhaps 
you will forgive me for this morning?" 

“ОГ course, of course. And, regarding 
your proposition, that we should work 
a little more closely together оп your 
tercsts, I can assure you, Count, that 
1 find it most interesting.” Bond smiled 
conspiratorially. "I'm sure we could come 
10 some satislactory етеп” 

“Yes? That is good." The Count. 


а moment at the ceiling а 
flectively, back at Bond. He 
suppose you would not be connected 
y with the British Secret Serv- 


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forced out of him by tension. 
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189 


** 


P L A X B O 


had onc. Didn't all that sort of thing 
go out with the end of the war?" Bond 
chuckled to himself, fatuously amused. 
"Can't quite sce myself running about 
behind a false mustache. Not my line of 
country at all. Can't bear mustaches.” 

The Count’s unwavering smile did 
not seem to share Bond's amusement. He 
said coldly, “Then please forget my 
question, Sir Hilary. The intrusion by 
this man has made me oversuspi 
value my privacy up here 
Scientific research сап only 
in an atmosphere of peace. 

“I couldn't agree morc.” Bond was 
effusive. He got to his feet and gathered 


up his papers from the desk. “Aud now 
1 must get on with my own research 


work. Just getting into the Mth Gente 
I think I shall have terest! 
data to show you tomorrow, Count 

The Count got politely to his feet and 
Bond went out of the door and along 
the passagi 

He loitered. listening for any sound. 
There was none, but halfway down the 
corridor опе of the doors was ajar. А 
crack of blood-red light showed. Bond 
thought, I've probably had it anyway- In 
for a penny, in for a pound! He pushed 
the door open and stuck his head into 
the room. Tt was a long, low laboratory 
with a plasticcovered workbench extend- 
ing its whole length beneath the win- 
dows, which were shuttered. Dark red 
light, as in a lum developing chamber, 
came from neon strips above the 
cornice. The bench was littered with 
retorts and test tubes, and there were 
line upon line of test tubes and. phials 
containing doudy liquid in racks 
all. Three men in wh 
with gauze pads over the bottoms of thei 
faces and white surgical caps over their 
ir, were at work, absorbed. Bond took 
the scene, a scene from a theatri 
hell, withdrew his head ed on 
down the corridor and out into what 
was now a driving snowstorm. He pulled 
the top of his sweater over his head and 
forced his way along the path to the 
blessed warmth of the clubhouse. Then 
he walked quickly to his гооп 
the door, and went into thc h 
and sat down on his usual throne of 
reflection and wondered what in God's 
name to do. 

Could he have saved Campbell? Well, 
he could have had a desperate shot at it. 
"Oh, yes. I know this man. Perfectly 
respectable chap. We used to work for 
the sume export firm, Universal, in Lon- 
don. You look in pretty bad shape, old 
boy. What the devil happened? 
just as w. 
cover. solid cover, Universal was brulé 
with the pros. It had been in use too 
long. All the secret s es in the world 
had penetrated it by now. Obviously 
Blofeld knew all about it. Any effort to 


some 


wa 


190 save Campbell would simply have tied 


Bond in with him. Th had been no 
ative except to throw him to the 
wolves. If Campbell had a chance to get 
his wits back before they really started 
on him, he would know that Bond was 
there for some purpose, that his dis: 
by Bond was desperately impor- 
nt to Bond, to the Service. How long 
would he have the strength to cover up 
Bond, retrieve his recognition of Bond? 
At most a few hours. But how many 
hours? That was the vital question. That 
and how long the storm would last. Bond 
couldn't. possibly get n this stuff. 


alternatives, of which, if and when Camp- 
bell talked, there was only one— death, 
probably a screaming death. 

Bond surveyed his weapons. "They were 
only his fect, his Gillette 
razor and his wrist watch, a heavy Rolex 
Oyster Perpetual on an expanding metal 
bracelet. Used properly, these could be 
turned into most effective knuckleduste 
Bond got up, took the blade out of his 
leue. and dropped the razor into his 
trouser pocket He slipped the shaft 
between the first and second fingers of 
his left hand so that the blade carrier 
rested flat along his knuckles. Yes, that 
was the way! Now was there anything, 
ny evidence he should try and take 
with him? Yes, he must try and get more, 
if not all, of the girls’ names and, if 
possible, addresses. For some reason he 
knew they were vital. For that he would 
have to use Ruby. His head full of plans 
for getting the information out of her, 
Bond went out of the bathroom and 
sat down at his desk and got on with a 
fresh page of the De Bleuvilles. 
he must continue to show w 
only to the recording eye in the ceiling. 


nds and 


Tt was about 12:30 when Bond heard 
his doorknob being softly turned. Ruby 
1. her finger to her lips. 
appeared into his bathroom. Bond 
ly threw down his pen, дог up 
ıd stretched and strolled over and went 
in after her. 

Ruby's blue eyes were wide and fright- 
ened, "You're in trouble," she whispered 
urgently. "What have you be 

"Nothing," said Bond 


» doing?" 
nocently. 


“We've all been told that we mustn't 
alk to you unless Miss Bunt 
Her knuckles went distractedly up to he 
teeth. “Do you think they know about 
us?” 

"Couldn't possibly," said Bond, radi- 
ating confidence. "I think 1 know what it 
is" (With so much obfuscation in the 
ir, what did an extra, a reassuring Не 
matter?) “This morning the Count told 
me I was an upsetting influence here. 
that I was what he called disruptive.“ 
interfering with your treatments. He 
asked me to keep myself more to myself. 


Honestly — " (how often that word came 
i lie!) — “Im sure that's all it 
a pit lly. Apart from 
I mean you're sort of special— th 
all you girls are terribly sweet. I'd 
to have helped you all. 

“How do you mean? Helped us?" 
Well, this business of surnames. 1 
talked to Violet last night. She seemed 
awfully interested. I'm sure it would 
have sed all the others to have theirs 
done, Everyone's interested 
they came from. Rather like palmistry 
in a way.” Bond wondered how the 
Collegc of Arms would have liked that 
one! He shrugged. "Anyway, Гус de- 
cided to get the hell away from here. I 
can't bear being shepherded and or- 
dered about like this. Who the hell do 
they think I am? Bur Ell tell you what 
ГІ do. If yon can give me the names 
of the girls, as many as you know, I'll 
do a piece on each of them and post 
them when you all get back to England. 
How much longer have you got, by the 
way?” 

“We're not told exactly, but the 
rumor is about another we There's 
another batch of girls due about then, 
When we're slow at our work or get 
behindhand with our reading, Miss 
Bunt says she hopes the next lot won't 
be so stupid. The old bitch! But 
Hilary—^ the blue eyes filled with 
concern — "how are you going to get 
away? You know we're practically 
prisoners here.” 

Bond was offhand. "Oh, ГЇ manage 
somchow. They can't hold me here 
nst my will But what about the 
names, Ruby? Don't you think it would 
give the girls a treat?" 

“Oh, they'd love it. Of course ] know 
all of them. We've found plenty of ways 
of exchanging secrets. But you won't be 

ble to remember. Have you got any- 
g 10 write down on?" 

Bond tore off some strips of 
paper and took out a pencil. 
away 

She laughed. 
Violet, thi 
non. She 


n where 


avatory 
ire 


Vell, you know me and 
1 there's Elizabeth Mackin- 
from Aberdeen. Beryl Morgan 
from somewhere in Herefordshire. Pearl 
Tampion, Devonshire — by the way, all 
those simply loathed every kind of cattle. 
Now they live on steaks! Would you 
believe it? I must say the Counts a 
wonderful ma 

“Yes, indeed.” 


s Anne Charter from 
ad Caresse Ventnor from 


there and she came 
wheneve 


she went 
a horse! Now all she does is dream 
of pony clubs and read every word she 
can get hold of about Pat Smythe! And 
Denise Robertson . . ." 

The list went on until Bond had got 
the whole 10. He said, "What about 


П ov 


that Polly 


somebody who left in No- 


vember? 

"Polly ‘Tasker. She was from East 
Anglia. Don't. remember where, but I 
can find out the address when I get back 


id. Sir Hilary“ she put her 
neck — “I am going to see 
ren't 1?” 

Bond held her tight and kissed her. 
“OF course, Ruby. You can always get 
me at the College of Arms in Queen 
Victoria Street. Just send me a postcard. 
when you get back, But for God's sake 
cut out the ‘Sir.’ You're my girlfriend. 
Remember? 

“Oh, yes, I will er Hilary," she 
said fervently. "And you will be careful. 
getting away 1 m. You're sure it’s 
1 can do to 


“No, darling, Just don’t breathe a 
word of all this. Its a secret between 


Of course, darling." She glanced at 
her watch. "Oh lord! 1 must simply fly. 
Only 10 minutes to lunchtime. Now. cin 
you do your trick with the door? There 
shouldn't be anyone about. Из their 
lunchtime from twelve till one.” 
Bond, out ol any possible line of 
vision from the eye in the ceiling, did 
his wick with the door and she was 
gone with a last whispered goodbye. 
Bond cased the door shut. He let out 
a deep sigh and went over to th 
dow and peered out through the snow 
heaped panes. It was thick as Hades 
outside and the fine powder snow on 
the veranda was whirling up in little 
ghosts as the wind tore at the building, 
Pray God it would let up by nighttime! 
Now, what did he need in the wity of 
equipment? Goggles and gloves were two 
ems he might harvest over lunch. Bond 
went into the | again 
rubbed soap into his eyes. It stung like 
hell, but the blue gray eyes emerged 
from the treatment realistically blood- 
shot. Satisfied, Bond rang for the 
warder" and went thoughtfully off to 
the restaurant. 
ence fell as he went through the 
ing doors, followed by a polite, brit- 
tle chatter. Eyes followed him discreetly 
as he crossed the room and the replies to 
his good mornings were muted. Bond 
took his usual seat between Ruby and 
Früulein Bunt. Apparently oblivious to 
her frosty greeting, he snapped his fin 
gers for a waiter and ordered his double 
vodka dry martini. He turned to Friu- 
lein Bunt and smiled into the suspicious 
yellow eyes. "Would you be very kind? 
"Yes, Sair Hilary. What is i 
Bond gestured at his still waterin, 
eyes. "I've got the Count's trouble. Sort 
of conjunctivitis, 1 suppose. The tremen: 
dous glare up here. Better today of 
course, but there's still a lot of reflection 
from the snow, And all this paper work. 


К 


throom nd. 


Could you get me a pair of snow gog- 
gles? ТЇЇ only need to borrow them for a 
day or two. Just till my cyes get used to 
the light. Don’t usually have this sort of 
trouble.” 

“Yes. That can be done. I w 
they are put in your room." She sum- 
moned the h id gave him the 
order in German, The man, looking at 
Bond with overt disli . “Sofort, 
gnädiges Fräulein,” and clicked his heels. 

“And one more thing, if you will,” 
Bond politely. "A small flask of 
schnapps." He turned to Friulein Bunt. 
“I find I am not sleeping well up here. 
Perhaps a nightcap would help. T always 
have one at home — generally whiskey. 
But here I would prefer schnapps. When 
in Gloria, do as the Glorians do. Ha һа! 

Fräulein Bunt looked at him stonily. 
She said to the waiter curtly, “п Ord- 
© man took Bond's order of 
ison followed by Oeuls Glori: 
cheese tra 


ll sce that 


" 
y (Bond thought he 


d better get some stuffing into him!), 
dicked his heels and went away, Was he 
one of those who had been at work in 


the interroga 


Чоп room? Bond silently 
ground 


teeth. By God, if it came to 


hitting any of these guards tonight, he 
ing to hit them damned hard, with 

he'd got! He felt Fräulein 
Bunt's eyes inquisitively on him. He шь 
an to make ami- 
ош the storm. How 
What was the 


ble conversation 
long would it Tas 
eter doing? 

Violet, guardedly but helpfully, said 
the guides thought it would clear up 
during the afternoon, The barometer 
was rising. She looked nervously at 
lein Bunt to see if she had said too much 
to the pariah, and then, not reassured, 
went back to her two vast baked potatoes 
with poached eggs in them. 

Bond's drink came. He swallowed it in 
two gulps and ordered another. He felt 
like making any gesture that would 
startle and out He said, combatively, 
to Fraulein Bunt, “And how is that poor 
chap who came up in the cable car this 
morning? He looked in terrible shape. 
I do hope he's up and about again.” 

"He makes progress." 

"Oh! Who was that?" asked Ruby. 

“It was an intruder.” Fräulein Bunt's 
eyes were hard with warning. "It is not a 
subject for conversation." 


191 


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194 finished with Campbell? 


sked Bond inno- 
After all. vou can't get much 
to up her 


“Oh, but why not? 
cently. 


the ordi 

She said nothing, Bond raised his eye- 
brows politely and then accepted the 

He asked if a 

пе up. Or was there 
like on board ship? Did 
they get any news from the outside 
world? 

No." 

Bond gave up the struggle and got on 
with his lunch. Ruby's foot crept up 


against his in sympathy with the 
sent to Coventry. Bond gave it 

kick of warning and withdrew his. The 
girls at the other tables began to leave. 


Bond toyed with his cheese 
ulein Bunt got to he 
“Come, girls. 

. exe 
up. he was alone 
. That was what he wanted. He got 
nd strolled to the door. Outside, on 
nst the wall, the girls outdoor 
s and skiing gloves hung in an or- 
derly row. The corridor was empty. Bond 
swept the largest pair of leather gauntlets 
he could sce off the peg where they hun, 


Bond rose and sat 


t for the w 


ters 


п the restam- 


up а 


а he sauntered 
reception room. It 
empty. The door to the ski room 
open and the surly ma 
bench. Bond went in and m: 
conversation about the we 
under cover of desultory talk about 
whether the metal skis were not. more 
dangerous than the old wooden ones. he 
wandered, his hands innocently in his 
round the numbered racks in 
the skis stood 
‘They were mostly the ¢ 
The bind 
boots But, by the door. in un 
slots, stood the guides sk 

d to slits as he sc 
measuring, estimating. Yes, the pair of 
Heads with the red Vs painted on 
the black curved tips was the best bet. 
They were of the stiffer, Master's cte- 
gory, desi Bond remem- 
bered reading somewhere that the Stand- 
rd model was “lom” at 
speed. His choice had the Attenhofer 
Flex forward release with the M. 
lateral release. Two transverse. leather 


was 


»gs would be too small for his 


bered 


Bond's eyes 
ned them, 


ıclined to 


thongs wound round the ankle and 


buckled over the 


step would, if he fell. 


which he was certain to do, ensure 
gainst losing a ski. 
Bond made a quick guess at how much 


the bindings would 
fit his boots and w 
dor to М 

Now it was just a question of sitting 
out the hours, When would they have 


Quick, rough 


eed adjust 
t olf dow 


ent to 
the corri 


room. 


torture is rarely effective against a pro- 
fessional, apart from the likelihood of 
the apidly losing consciousness, be- 
i so punch«lrunk that he is i 
herent, The pro. if he is 
spiritually, can keep the 
inor admissions, by 
long. bling tales stick 
them. Such tiles need. verification. 
feld would undoubtedly have hi 
Zürich, would be able to contact him on 
his radio, get him to check this or that 
date or address, but that also would re 
quire time. Then, if it was proved that 
Campbell had told lies. they would have 
to begin again. So as Bond and his 
identity were concerned, it all depended 
pbell’s reading of why Bond was 
up at the Gloria. Club. He must guess, 
because of Bond's curt disavowal of him, 
that it was somet ndestine, some 
thing important. Woald he have the wits 
to cover пр Bond. the guts. against the 
electrical and mechanical devices they 
would surely u: nst п? He could 
say that, when he came to and saw Bond, 
in his scmiconscious state he had for a 
moment thought Bond was his brother, 
James Campbell, Some story like that. H 
he had the wits! If he had the guts! Had. 
Campbell got a death pill. perhaps one 
of the buttons on his ski jacket or trou- 
sers? Bond sharply put the thought away. 
He had been on the edge of wishing that 
Campbell had? 

Well, he would be wise to assume that 
it was only a matter of hours and then 
they would come for him. They wouldn't 
do it until after lights out, To do it be- 
fore would cause too much talk among 
the girls. No, they would fetch him at 
night and the next day it would be put 


for hours by n 
and 


Blo- 
man in 


on € 


t ag 


bout that he had left by the first cable 
ar down to the valley. Meanwhile he 
would be buried deep snow over 


cout, or more likely deposited in a high 
in the by Piz Languard 
glacier, to come out at the bottom, 50 
s later, out of his deep freeze, with 
multiple contusions but no identific 
marks a nameless victim of les neige: 
éternelles! 

Yes, he must plan for th 
up from the desk where he had been 
nomaticailly scribbling down lists of 


15th Century De Bleuvilles and opened 
the window. The snow had stopped and 
there was broken blue in the sky. tt 


would be perfect powder 
a foot of it, on the Glori 
make everything ready 

There are hundreds of secret inks, but 
there was only one available to Bond, 
the oldest one in the world, his own 
urine. He went into the bathroom (wh 
must the televising eye thi 
tive tract?) with his pen, a clean poi 
and his passport. Then he sat down 
proceeded to wanscribe, from the f 


now, perhaps 
Run. Now to 


pieces of paper in his pocket onto a 
blank page of his passport, the names 
and approximate locations by county of 
the girls. The page showed nothing. 
Held in front of a flame, the writing 
would come up brown. He slipped the 

o his hip pocket. Next he 


loves from under his sweater, 


passport 
took the 
tied th found them 
quate but tight ft. took the top off the 
lavatory cistern and laid the gloves along 
the aim of the stopcock. 

What else? It was going to be fiend- 
ishly cold at the start. but his body 
would soon be drenched in sweat. He 
would just have to make do with the 
ski clothes he possessed. the gloves, the 
goggles that had been placed on hi 
wd the flat glass flask of schnapps 


ade- 


on 


that he would carry in one of his side 
pockets and not, in сазе of a fall, in his 
hip pocket. Extra covering for his face? 


Bond thought of one ol his warm 
vests and cutting eyeholes in it. But it 
would surely slip and perhaps blind him. 
He had some dark-red silk 
handkerchi 
over his face below the дор; 
ard it if it interfered with his br 
So! That was tye lor! There was nothing 
else hc could do or insure agair 


sin; 


his thoughts and went out and back to 
his desk. He sat down and bent to his 
nd tried not to listen to the 
k of the Rolex on his wrist, 
nd the rough geog- 
raphy of the Gloria Run he had de- 
quately learned from the metal map. It 
was too lite now to go and have another 
look at it. He must stay put and continue 
av the toothless tiger! 


stening t 
wied to fix i 


ch. Bond 
plenty of whi 


mer was as ghastly as lu 
concentrated on geui 
key and food under his belt. He made 
bane conversation and pretended he 
didn't notice the chill in the air. Then 
he gave Ruby's foot one warm press un- 
der the table, excused himself on the 
rounds of work, and strode with dignity 
ош ol the room. 
nged for dinner and he was 
ved to find his ski clothes in the 
alf dy heap in which he had left them, 
He with utter normalcy, about 
his work — sharpened pencils. Taid 
his books, bent to the squared paper: 
Simon de Bleuville, 1510-1570. AL 
phonse de Bleuville, 1546-1580, married 


out 


1571 Mariette d'Escourt, and had issue, 
Jean, Francoise, Pierr nk God he 
would soon be released from all this 


e cars 
his hands were wet. He 
wiped them down the sides of his trou- 
sers. He got up and stretched. He went 


into the bathroom and made appropriate 
noises, retrieved the gloves and laid them 
on the bathroom floor just 
door. Then. he сате back into 
the room and got iuto bed and switched 
oll the light. He regularized his breathing 
and, in 10 minutes. began to snore softly. 
He gave it another 10, then slid out of 
bed and, with infinite precaution, dressed 
himself in his ski clothes, He softly re- 
uieved his gloves from the bathroom, 
put on the goggles so that they rested 
in his hair above the forehead, tied the 
dark-red handkerchief tightly across his 
nose, schnapps into pocket, passport into 
hip pocket and, finally, Gillette through 
the fingers of the left hand and the 
Roles transferred to his right, the brace- 
let clasped in the palm of his hand and 
round the fingers so that the face of the 
watch lay across his middle knuckles. 
James Bond paused and ran over his 
equipment. The ski gloves, their cord 
drawn through his sweater and down the 
sleeves, hung from his wrists. They 
would be a hindrance until he was ou 
. Nothing to be done about that. The 
s set! He bent to 
manipulated the lock with the 
s that the television 
1 closed dow: 


inside the 
naked. 


plastic 


eye h and would 


not ght shining*in from the pas 
sage, listened briefly and slipped out. 
Ther light from the 


reception room to his left. Bond crept 
alon; ched round the door jamb. Yes! 
The guard was there, bent over some- 
thing that looked like a time sheet. The 
neck was offered. Bond dropped the 
Gillette in his pocket and stiffened the 
fingers of his left hand imo the old 
Commando cutting edge. He took the 
two steps into the room and crashed the 
hand down on the k of the offered 
neck. The man’s Га t the table top 
with a thud. bounced up and half turned 
d Bond. Bond's right flashed out 
and the face of the Rolex disintegrated 
nst the man's The body slid 
gishly off its chair onto the carpet 
and lay still, its legs untidy as if in sleep. 
The eyes fluttered and stared, unsceing, 
upward. Bond went round the desk and 
bent There heit. 
Bond straightened himsel the 
he had seen coming back alone 
from the bob run on his first mori 
when Bertil had met with his acciden 
So! Rough justice! 

The telephone on the desk buzzed like 
a trapped wasp. Bond looked at it. He 
picked up the receiver and spoke through 
the handkerchief across his mouth. “Ja?” 

‘Alles in Ordnung?" 


el 


tow 


down. was no he 


Te wi 


Also hûr zu! Wir kommen für den 
Engländer in zehn Minuten. Ve 
standen?” 

з "recht." 

“Also, aufpassen. Ja?” 

"Zu Befehl!" 


At the other end the receiver wi 
"The sweat was beading on Bond's 
Thank God he had answered! So 
they were coming for him in 10 minutes! 
There was a bunch of keys on the desk. 
Bond snatched them up and ran to the 
front door. After three misfits, he had. 
the rig He tried the door. It was 
now only held by its air-pressure device. 
ped for the ski room. Unlocked! 
by the light from the 
reception room, found his skis. There 
were sticks beside them. Carefully he 
ed. everything out of its wooden slot 
nd strode to the main door and opened 
it. He laid the skis and sticks softly down 
1 the snow, turned back to the door, 
locked it from the outside and threw the 
keys far away into the snow. 

The three-quarter moon burned down 
with an almost dazzling fire and the snow 
crystals scintillated back at it like a 
pet of diamond dust. Now minutes 
would have to be wasted getting the 
bindings absolutely right. James Bond 
kicked one boot into the groove of the 
Marker toe hold and kuch down, feeling, 
for the steel cable that went behind his 
heel. It was too short. Coolly, unhur- 
edly, he adjusted the regulating 
on the forward latch and tried aj 
This time it was all right. He pressed 
down on the safety latch and felt it lock 
his boot into the toe hold. Next, the 
safety thong round the top of his boot 
that would keep the ski prisoner il the 
latch. sprung. which it would do with a 
fall. His fingers were beginning to Ireeze. 
‘The tip of the thong refused to find its 


dow: 


and, 


screw 
in. 


buckle! A full minute wasted! Got i 
And now the same job on the other ski. 
At last Bond stood up. slipped the gloves 
over g fingers, picked up the 
ancelike sticks and pushed himself off 
long the faint ridge that showed the 
outlines of yesterday's well-trodden path. 
lı felt all right! He pulled the goggles 


his achi 


down over his eyes and now the vast 
snowscape was a silvery green as if he 
was swimming under sunny water. The 


skis hissed smoothly through the powder 
snow. Bond tried to get ир more speed 
down the gentle slope by langlaufing, the 
slidi forward stride of the first Nor- 
wegian skicrs. But it didn't work. The 
heels of his boots felt nailed to the skis. 
He punted himself forward as fast as 
he could with his sticks. God, what a 
trail he must be leaving — like а tram- 
As soon as they got the front door 
open, they would be after him. Thei 
fastest guide would certainly catch him 
cusih unless he got a good start! Every 
minute, every second was a bonus He 
passed between the black outlines of the 
cablehead and the Berghaus. There was 
the starting point of the Gloria Run, 
the metal notices beside it hatted with 
snow! Bond didn't pause. He went 
straight for it and over the edge. 


This is the second of three installments 
of “On Her Majesty's Secret Service,” а 
new novel by lan Fleming. The con- 
clusion will appear next month. 


“<The prince dug Cinderella, her firm breasts heaving 
against the low-cut gown . 


195 


PLAYBOY 


GAIN WE FIND ANNIE PLAYING "STRRIGHT-MAN" 

TO NIGHT-CLUB MIMIC, FREDDY PLINK.. THE 
"THEME OP OUR ADVENTURE BRINGS HER ТО GRIPS 
WITH THE INCREASINGLY POPULAR PASTIME OF 
CAPITALIZING ON THE PERSONALITIES OF THE 
FIRST FAMILY = WHICH IS OUR WAY OP SAYING 
"THAT WE DO NOT SUBSCRIBE TO IMITATIONS OF THE 
PRESIDENT -AS YOU SHALL SEE AS OUR STORY 
OPENS WITH FREDDY IMITATING THE PRESIDENT — 


OH, FREDDY = YOU IMITATE 
THE PRESIDENT SO PERFECTLY 
"YOU EVEN LOOK LIKE THE 
PRESIDENT! IF HOT FOR THAT 
DISGUSTING SNIFFLE, 
LEAPIN’ LIZARDS -- YOU'D BE 
THE PRESIDENT! 


ANNIE =» | WISH YOU 
WOULDN'T CSNIFFLE!) 
SAY "LEAPIN’ LIZARDS? 
THE FIRST LADY WOULD 
NEVER. SAY "LEAPIN" 
LIZAROS " — 
(SNAFFLE!) 


FREDDY, BABY! THEY 
LUVYA! THE WHOLE 
COUNTRY LUVZYA! OUR 


—SQ 1 TOLD BOBBIE | JUST (SNIFFLE!) 
DIDN'T THINK 1 SHOULD CREATE A CLAN 
DEPAHTMENT’ IN THE CABINET 
FOAH PETER. 


"MY SON, THE PRESIDENT 


ALEUM IS GOING SO 

BIG, THERE'S TALK IN 

WASHINGTON ABOUT 
INVESTIGATING IT! 


95 


ING 15 SATRI 
ESSENTIAL FORM OF SOCIAL- 
POLITICAL CRITICISM? 


-AND BESIDES «I'VE NEGOTIATED 
CONTRACTS FOR. FOLLOW-UP ALBUMS 
MY SON, THE ATTORNEY GENERAL 
AND MY SON, THE SENATOR, TO 
SAY NOTHING OF A COLORING 

BOOK AND A PHOTO-CAPTION 
BOOK AND SOUVENIR DOLLS 

ANO — 


O LIKE 
YOU 10 GET ANNIE 
A DARK WIG WITH 
SOME CASSINI OUT- 
FITS. WE'LL SEND 
HER. TO CHURCH 
IN SLACKS — 


BUT NOW YOU MUST 


SHTATE O'PAHTMENT 
MEETIN’ — 


EXCUSE ME. I HAVE TO 
MAKE NOTES FOAH A 


L KNOW IT'S SILLY TO 
THINK THAT FREDDY IS. 
BEGINNING TO BELIEVE 


=> WELL = WHAT'S WITH THE 
ROCKING CHAIR. BIT? 


HIS OWN IMITATIONS, BUT 


OH, Hl, RUTHIE. 1 DIDN'T GO. 
TO WORK TODAY. FREDDY 
DOESN'T NEED ME ANYMORE. 
HE WANTS A STRAIGHT- MAN 
LIKE Заскіє' „@ 


JUST ABOUT TO 
TAKE MY SHOWER.— 


—SH! SWEETIE + 
THE PRESIDENT— 


JACKIE 


JACK 
KENNEDY. 


JACKIE 
LEONARD? 
JACKIE 
CARTER? 
JACKIE 
GLEASON? 


WHICH REMINDS ME! ~ I'D LIKE TO 


SWITCH OFF THE JOE LAVOOM EXERCISE 


HOUR. AND CATCH THE PRESIDENT'S 
PRESS CONFERENCE = WERE YOU 
DOING JOE LAVOOM'S EXERCISES f 


CH NO-- 1 LIKE TO-LIE AROUND 
AND WATCH THE WAY HE MOVES. 


AFTAH ALL, 
WHO DO 
THOSE TWO-BIT 
COMICS THINK 
THEY AH? 
IAM THE 
PRESIDENT! 


WELL, BLESS MY 
SOUL, FREDDY DOES 
A GOOD IMITATION, [| GOODNESS 
BUT NOT GOOD 
ENOUGH TO QUALIFY | COULD HANDLE 


COUNTRY. 


(SNIFF!) iE 
THEM ROTTEN 
BUMS DO NOT 
LOOK OUT, FLL 
Б BURY THEM! 
(SNIFF! SNARFFLE!): 


ГАМ THEIR 


SWEETIE, WHY 
ARE YOU GIGGLING? 


ОН, RUTHIE, IT'S 
JUST THAT HE 

REMINDS ME OF 

FREDDY'S IMITATION 


'OH HE'S SO 
HUMOROUS = 


KNOWS, HE 


4 AND LIKE THAT- 


-cuk!-amo % 
DO YOU, MISTER 


£ PRESIDENT, INTEND 


TO DO ANYTHING 
ABOUT THE WAY 
VARIOUS ENTERTAIN. 
ERS AND MAGAZINES | 
L, ARE RIDICULING 


AS PRESIDENT HE'D 
BE UNDER PRESSURE. 
AND EVERYTHING 
AND FREDDY DOESN'T 
HAVE MUCH OF A 
SENSE OF HUMOR, 


PLAYBOY 


198 


PLAYBOY 
READER SERVICE 


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answers to your shopping 
questions. She will provide you 
with the name of a retail store 
in or near your city where you 
can buy any of the specialized 
items advertised or editorially 
featured in rLaysoy. For 
example, where-to-buy 
information is available for the 
merchandise of the advertisers 
in this issue listed below. 


After Six Dinner 
dee 


Batiston Socks 


Ronson Lighters 
ph. 


Miss Pilgrim will be happy to 
answer any of your other 
questions on a fashion, travel, food 
and drink, hi-fi, etc. If your 
question involves items you saw 
in PLAYBOY, please specify 

page number and issue of the 
magazine as well as a brief 
description of the items 

when you write. 


PLAYBOY READER SERVICE 
232 E. Ohio Street, Chicago 11, Ill. 


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stale 


PLAYBOY’S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK 


BY PATRICK CHASE 


Ir YOU PLAN to be footloose on the Coi 
tinent this July, and wish to dodge tour- 
ist congestion, we suggest you head for 
a haven favored by the locals for beating 
both the heat and the jostle of invading 
oudanders Travelers in Germany, for 
example, will do well to spend a few 
g days in the bright blucand- 
te environs of the North Sea 
Islands. On the resort 
of Sylt—which can be reached directly 
by a train that rattles along a trestle just 
a few feet off the water — is lively Wester- 
land, which sports a casino, shows and 
a section of beach reserved for all-over 
tanning, and Kampen, a thatch-roofed 
village big with bohemians. Other pleas- 
ure islands accessible by fast North Sca 
ferry from the mainland — Fóhr, Borkum, 
Juist, Norderney— are slower paced, 
though Norderney has of late become 
popular with the yachting set. 

In France, a revivifying gourmandial 
grand tour may be combined with the 
good scaside life by motoring to Deau- 
ville (an easy days jaunt from packed 
Paris) and thence pressing southward. 
In addition to the customary games of 
chance, the Casino at Deauville fea- 
tures a Grill Room rated “top class” 
in Michelin's book. Continuing, you 
can follow the increasingly rocky coast 
to the scagirt cathedral isle of Mont- 
Saint-Michel, where the omelet was 
born and is still lovingly prepared and 
served in ancient long-handled iron 
pans at La Mère Poulard and La Vieille 
Auberge. Further on lies the colorful 


Breton fishing port of Saint-Malo, from 
whence you may take a ferry boat to 
onc of the French-speaking British Chan- 
nel isles for a memorable meal of Jobster 
in cream-and-whiskey sauce Chez Chuche. 
On the mainland, another celebrated 
lobster palate pleaser called pascalou may 
be had at the Hotel Pascal et Terminus 
at Quimper. Some care should be cxer- 
cised in approaching Quimper, however: 
a large Breton folklore festival called La 
Cornouaille is held there in July which 
Ieatures bagpipes by the thousands. 

Time permitting, your journey might 
lead on into the Pyrénées, where the 
most rewarding hunt is for local Banyuls 
and Jurançon wines, with Bayonne ham 
or goose and wuflles — all of which may 
be relished at the Biarritz Casino, now 
splendidly rebuilt after the gutting fire 
of a few years back. Across the border 
Spain, the rowdy “Running of the 
Bulls” will once again be staged in a 
happy haze of Fundador at Pamplona. 
‘Though the luster of this event is some- 
what dimmed cach year by tourists con- 
sumed with the importance of being 
Ernest, the corridas and Navarrese danc- 
ers and open-air block parties all make 
it still very much worth sampling. 

One final tip for the traveling man: 
the race for space during the 1964 Olym- 
pic Games in Tokyo, October 10-24, has 
already begun. Hotel rooms should be 
booked right now. 

For further information on any of the 
above, write to Playboy Reader Serv- 
ice, 232 E. Ohio St., Chicago 11, Ш. Ba 


NEXT MONTH: 


“HARRY, THE RAT WITH WOMEN" BEGINNING A VICKEDLY WITTY ` 
ALLEGORY OF OUR TIMES, ABOUT A MAN WHOSE BLESSING AND WHOSE 
CURSE IS IRRESISTIBILITY—A FIRST NOVEL BY JULES FEIFFER 


“THE NUDEST JAYNE MANSFIELD"—|N HER UPCOMING MOVIE, PLAY- 
BOY'S PERENNIAL PLAYMATE ROMPS IN THE ALTOGETHER ALTOGETHER 


“REQUIEM FOR HOLIDAYS"—ALL HAIL THE WONDERFUL GHOSTS OF’ 
THOSE JOYOUS FETES OF YORE—BY CHARLES BEAUMONT 


“HIGHBROW AUTHORS AND MIDDLEBROW BOOKS" A CRITIC'S 
CRITIC IN A NO-HOLDS-BARRED LOOK AT THE PLIGHT OF WRITERS AND 
READERS OF CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE—BY JOHN ALDRIDGE 


BILLY WILDER SPEAKS HIS MIND—THE MASTER OF SERIOCOMEDIES 
TELLS HOW HE DOES IT IN AN ENTERTAINING PLAYBOY INTERVIEW 


FOR THOSE WHO ENJOY THE SUBTLE TASTE OF VODKA 


Any vodka devotee will tell you this: One of the beauties of vodka 
is its elusive flavor. It should be allowed to assert itself. So 7-Up 
treats it gently. Never turns it into something unrecognizable. 
What 7-Up does turn it into is one of the most refreshing 
and delectable of all coolers. Sparkling as the sun on the sea. 


LER BY JAMES LOCK & COMPANY, LTD.. LONDON. 


Two historic inventions that Englishmen still hold dear 


Above, left, an Englishman's favourite headgear—the bowler. Above, right, an 
Englishman's favourite gin Gordon's. The bowler made its first appearance 
in 1855, a full 86 years after Alexander Gordon had introduced his remark- 
able gin. The Gordon’s Gin you drink today still harks back to the original 
1769 English formula. Why tamper with such dryness and flavour? They have 
made Gordon's the biggest-selling gin in all of England, America, the world. 
PRODUCT OF U.S.A. DISTILLED LONDON DRY GIN, 100% NEUTRAL SPIRITS DISTILLED FROM GRAIN. 90 PROOF GORDON'S ORY GIN CD. LTD., LINDE JERSEY