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ENTERTAINMENT FOR MEN
D

JULY 1965 + 75 CENTS.

"THE GIRLS OF THE RIVIERA”
ALLAN SHERMAN DISCUSSES
"SEX AND THE SINGLE SHERMAN” / /
JULY FOURTH FUN WITH JEAN ,
SHEPHERD + INTERVIEW WITH//
MARCELLO MASTROIANNI
CONCLUDING INSTALLMENT OF
FINAL NOVEL BY IAN FLEMING

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hold up. Start with Honda. You'll stay with Honda. That's the way it goes. HON DA

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PLAYBOY

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DAVIDSON

SUERMAN

OUR SPARKLING
Fourth of Julyful
Jocy Thorpe, in her second
jpearamce (her first w Sep-
tember 1963). offers a light-fantastic
encomium to Independence Day—and
sets the celebiational tone of the issue
hand. which we think you'll find
more fun than a string of Chinese fire-
crackers. Kicking off the fireworks within
is Jean Shepherd's mirthful memoir of
1 unforgettably explosive Fourth back
home in Indiana: Ludlow Kissel and the
Dago Bomb That Struck Back. A butter.
fingered pyrotechnician in his storied
youth, Jean believes he’s one of many
survivors ol bygone Independence Days
to sport a set of false eyebrows.

‘This month's conclusion of lan Flem-
ing's final novel, The Man with the
Golden Gun—Fleming’s 13th James
Bond adventure yarn, the last three of
which have appeared exclusively in
rLAYWOY prior to book publication—
writes finis to a unique chapter in the
history of literature. The ames. Bond
however, gives every indica-
g with us lor a long, long
time, what with the amazingly successful
Bond flicks starring Sean Connery—
whose craggy likeness has been captured
pertectly by Chicago artist Howard
Mueller in his compelling illustrations
for all four installments of The Man
with the Golden Gun.

Hoke Norris’ Look Away, our lead
fiction for July, blazes with the intensity
of todays race-tormented headlines
Norris, a Southerner who has lived in
the North for the past ten years, wrote
the story after covering the murder of
three civil rights workers in Mississippi
for the Chicago Sun-Times, as part of a
widely syndicated series of outspoken ar
ticles on todays South. Says Norris
“While the characters and events in Look
Away are fictitious, they grew out of a
desire to say more about the place and
the people than I already had writen,
What I want to sty 1 believe can be
summed up in one word—violence.”

Avram Davidson, who wrote

PLAYBILL

Bunn
cover

this

FLEMING

i thriller, The In-
ansion, has been the recipient of a brace
of i
Fi
Writers of An
also reports that he's enjoyed the dubious
honor of haying two of his stories pub-
lished in Cuba, in the Communist tradi-
tion, without benefit of roya
July's fourth fictionecr is Herbert
Gold (The Game of Hide and Seek),
who is typewriter decp in a new novel
and happily has no such royalty prob-
lem i ad, France, Italy and Ger
Dunya wicks ER M SÊ just been
published. In this country, Salt is in the
process of being adapted for the movies.
Up to his horn-rimmed eyeballs in all
iner ol projects is authorcomedian-
iter Allan Sherman, whose Sex

n
songw

and the Single Sherman (soon to ap-
in book form as part of his auto-
of Laughter, lor

pe
biography. 4 Gift
Atheneum) will evoke
and perhaps а [ew blushing memories of
one’s own adolescence. Allan's latest
book, Instant Status or Up Your Imag
has gone into its third printing: he has
another album in the ойи
Downtown and Other Songs [or Cra
Mixed-Up Parents and Kids. As for his
future, Sherman says: “I plan to start re-
painting The Last Supper. 1 am also
going to redo the Sistine Chapel with a
For those who like pictures, I'm
I with wallpaper, Pm
also working on a musical, The History
of Mankind, but am currently stymied as
I've covered practically everything in the
first act.

ths, nostalgi

The public-relations man's sub-rosa
role in the ng of a man of the hour
in politics and business is the timely

task of M h Bloom in The
Great American Build-up—with whose
overblown beneficiaries, and their ap-
petite for empty honors, Murray con-
fesses "an abiding f. ion, based on
personal acquaintance." The knowle
able author of two previous PLAYBOY
pieces (The Moneygrabbers and Hows
and Whys of the Perfect Murder}—both

NORRIS

оп the subject of crime and. criminals—
Murray is halfway through a book, due
early on what he claims is
“the пе of all time
the Portuguese bank-note scandal of
1925. He may be right: this was the
celebrated case in which a gang of
brilliant counterfeiters pulled off a
550,000.000 fraud that led to the collapse
not only of Portugal's economy, but of her
government as well. Murray's also wait-
ing for the reviews of his first play.
The White Crow, which he calls
egghead) melodrama about the super-
natural”; it’s scheduled to open on the
London boards this summer.
Cosmopolitan Marcello. Mastroianni,
the subject of our Playboy Intervie

most

has ed a reputation among his
moviemaking colleagues far removed
from his image the
laconic Latin lover: He is considered one

of the world’s great sleepers. He has been
known to sleep standin phone
booth: just before our in: ked
to him on the set of Casanova 70, he
had been found, decked out in his Cast-
nova finery, sound asleep in а waterless
bathtub, No less surprising—or contra-
dictory—are his remarkably candid. ad-
missions of doubt and confusion, in our
not only about his image as
a male sex symbol, but about his role as
a man in modern society.

Rounding out our July formula for a
festive Fourth: Fun Jor the Road,
Charles Beaumont’s breezy takeout on
the manifold and manic delights of auto
rallying; Food and Drink Editor Thomas
Mario's

offbeat, upbeat approach (o
warm-weather coolers, Summer Punch
Bowl; The Girls of the Riwiera, a

wordsand-pictures pacan t0 its beau-

teous beachni Fashion Director Rob-
ert L. Green's survey of the hip and
handsome California sartorial scene, The

West Coast Way; another epidermal epi
sode of Little Annie Fanny; Don Addis’
isand-hers sign langi Symbolic
nd July's girl [or all seasons, Play
y Collier. In all, a suitably pyro-
technic July salute to our readers.

PLAYBOY.

Coostwise Gorb

GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY BUILDING. 232 E.

PLAYBOY. JULY, 1965, VOL. 12, NO. 7, гв.
LISHED MONLY BY мин PUBLISHING CO.. (NC
SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE U-S., $8 FOR ONE YEAR

vol. 12, no. 7—july, 1965

CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE

PLAYBILL — 3
DEAR PLAYBOY... 58 ^ 7
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS a uS : IE
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR ET : 33
PLAYBOY'S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK —trevel... PATRICK CHASE 37
THE PLAYBOY FORUM - ЖОК. _]
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: MARCELLO MASTROIANNI—candid conversation . 49
LOOK AWAY—fiction а er -n HOKE NORRIS 58

ROBERT L GREEN 62
AUAN SHERMAN 67
THOMAS MARIO 68
JEAN SHEPHERD 72

AVRAM DAVIDSON 75
DON ADDIS 77
MURRAY TEIGH BIOOM 79

THE WEST COAST WAY—ottire.
SEX AND THE SINGLE SHERMAN—humor
SUMMER PUNCH BOWL—drink

LUDLOW KISSEL AND THE DAGO BOMB— memoir
THE INVASION —fi
SYMBOLIC SEX—humor -
THE GREAT AMERICAN BUILD-UP—article.......
CLOWN PRINCESS—ployboy's playmate of the month Е 80
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor cas 86
THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN fiction IAN FLEMING 88
FUN FOR THE ROAD—sports t CHARLES BEAUMONT 92
THE GAME OF HIDE AND SEEK —fiction HERBERT GOLD 97
THE GIRLS OF THE RIVIERA —pictoriol essay 98
THE CHOICE OF ILONKA THE CHASTE—ribeld classic m
LITTLE ANNIE FANNY—satire HARVEY KURTZMAN ond WILL ELDER 157

HUGH м. HEFNER editor and publisher
A. ©. SPECTORSKY associate publisher and editorial director
ARTHUR PAUL art director

JACK J. KESSIE managing editor VINCENT T. TAJIRI picture edilor

SHELDON WAX senior editor; w R ANDKEWS, FRANK DE BLOIS, MUKKAY FISHER, MICHAEL
LAURENCE, NAT LEHRMAN, WILLIAM MACKLE associate editors; ROBERT L. CI
director; DAVID TAYLOR associate fashion editor; THOMAS mano food é drink
editor; PATRICK CHASE travel editor; J. MUL GETTY contributing editor, business
i finance; CHARLES BEAUMONT, RICHARD GEHMAN, KEN W. PURDY, RONERT RUARK
contributing editors; AMENE WOURAS copy chief; RAY WILLIAMS assistant editor; urv
снам

CASILLI, LARRY CORDON, J. HARRY O'ROURKE, POMPEO POSAR, JERRY YULSMAN staff pho.
lographers; sra» MALINOWSKI contributing photographer; reen с
stylist; REID AUSTIN associate art director; RON WLUME, JOSEPH PACZER assistant art
direclors; WALTER KRADENYCH art assistant; CYNTINA MADDON assistant cartoon
editor; yous masimo production manager; ALLEN VARGO assistant production
manager; РАТ PAPPAS rights and permissions © HOWARD W. LEDERER advertising
director; jostvit FALL advertising manager: JULES KASE associate advertising
manager; SHERMAN KEATS chicago advertising manager; JOSEPH GUENTHER detroit
advertising manager; NELSON FUTCH promotion director; WV RASEVITZ, promotion
art director; menut roren publicity manager; BENNY DUNN. public relations
manager; ANSON MOUNT college bureau; THEO FREDERICK personnel director; JANET
PILGRIM reader service; WALTER HOWARTH subscription fulfillment manager; ELDON
SELLERS special projects; wonter. rREUSS business manager È circulation director

EN fashion

RONNIE novr assistant picture editor; MARIO

ERLAIN asociale picture editor;

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DEAR PLAYBOY

ЕЗ Aopaess PLAYBOY MAGAZINE + 232 E. OHIO ST, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611

GOLDEN GUN MEN

As an avid [an Fleming reader, may I
gramlate you on your latest scoop,
The Man with the Golden Gun. Your
uncanny ability to come up first with the
best makes your magazine the mos-read
literature by clients and other visitors to
this office. With your April issue, you

have simply outdone every previous
effort to satisfy the varied interests of
your readers in this lonely outpost of

PLAYBOY followers.
A. Bert Armstrong, President
Concession Insurance Services Ltd.
Hamilton, Ontario

1 was very pleased to find you featur-
ing The Man with the Golden Gun
The first part of the novel indicates that
Fleming's last work matches the best of
its predecessors. It seems to me that

such quality fiction as this does as much
to substantiate your cover line "Enter-
tainment for Men" as do such standard
features as The Playboy Forum, the inter-

views and the monthly centerfold.
Wayne P. Pomerleau

Washington, D. C.

Compliments on your latest James
Bond serialization. The artwork is strik-
ing and the story is one of Mr. Fleming's
bes. However. in my reading of the
mavsov presentation of The Alan with
the Golden Gun, 1 have come upon
what 1 consider to be a serious error
believe Mr. Fleming
< committed. You will recall

last Fleming story, You Only

which 1 ca
could
that i
Live Twice, James Bond was removed
from the Double-0 Section for ineficient
service, and was promoted to the Diplo-
matic Section, with the new number
7777. This was in order to give Bond a
chance to redeem himself while in pur
suit of the doctor who turned out to be
none other than his archenemy, Ernst
Stavro Blofeld. In Golden Gun, however,
I find no mention of Mr. Bond's promo-
tion nor of Mr. Bond except as 007, and
not as 7777. Please elucidate.
John Clarke
Rockville, Maryland
In “You Only Live Twice,” M said to
Bond, “Um giving you acting promotion
to the Diplomatic Section. Four figure
and a thousand a year extra

not

you

number

pay.” But Bond told his friend Bill Tan-
ner, “As soon as I gel back from this ca
per, РИ ask for my old number back
again

ART FOR АКТУ SAKE

I want to thank you for your in-
terviews, which, it seems to me, are
excellent. The Art Buchwald one, spe-
cifically, was charged with biting satire,

but I think your alltime coup to date
was the one with Dr. Martin Lather
King [Jan 5] The variety and
depth of iews calls for

applause.

I also want to con emt you on the
variety and quality of your fiction,
which is impressive. In a day when the
short story is dying in England, its very
much alive in America because of outlets
such as PLAYBOY which allow for the free
expression of wiiters interests

Ken McCormick, Editor-in-Chief
Doubleday & Company, Inc.
New York, New York

Not a day passes without Art Buch-
wald's humor adding something of val-
ue. PLAYBOY and Mr. Kitman should be
proud to have had а part in the finest
political and social satire 1 have read
since George Orwell's Animal Farm. It's
arding to me, and many of my fellow
students, to live in a country where a
wue genius like Mr. Buchwald can raise
his witty voice in opposition to the Gov-
ent’s policies.

William

Pennsyl

Cheste

Ahlum
Military College

nsylvania

Art Buchwald is probably America's

Michael Grishman
Holyoke, Massachusetts

1 received your April issue the other
day and, since it was the first time I had.
ever seen а copy of PLAYBOY, | was natu-
rally shocked by some of the photographs
1 saw in it. But what really disturbed me
was your printed interview purportedly
between myself and Marvin Kitman, 1
don't believe I ever spoke to anyone
named Marvin Kitman and I am qui
sure if I did, 1 never would have said
some of the things I was quoted as saying.

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PLAYBOY

Meat Balls Electra
Take any old non-conductive meat
ball recipe...dash in a teaspoonful
of Angostura for each pound of
meat and watch the sparks fly!
Angostura also makes ordinary
hamburgers think they're steaks.
So will you.

On-the-Rocks, Roger!
whiskey, vodka or rum—
Angostura elevates the character
and properties of your favorite
spirits served On-the-Rocks. . .
raise high the root beer, bartender !

Sans Souci Salad Dressing
Blend a half pint of sour cream
with a little salt, sugar, herb
vinegar, some minced sweet onion,
and six or seven dashes of Angostura
aromatic bitters. Spill over chilled
green salad and serve. Superb!

<>
It isn't a Manhattan
without Angostura
It's the Angostura that makes a
Manhattan taste like a Manhattan,
(The whiskey, vermouth and
cherry merely go along for the fun.)

The four recipes above are only to whet your appetite For the

whole story of what Angostura does for food an:

drink, send

for your free copies of The Professional Mixing Guide (256 great
drinks) and The Angostura Cook Book (48 delectable pages).
Write: Angostura, Dept. P, Elmhurst, N. Y. 11373.

@ The Angostura-Wuppermann Corp. 1964

It’s quite possible that Kitman made the
whole thing up. I investigated him after
the article and discovered he makes his
living running [or President of the
United States
Since 1 don't know Mr. Ki and I
hadn't agreed to have my photograph in
a magazine which publishes pi
nude women, 1 would appreciate some
sort of Compensation for this embarrass
ment—hall of Mr. Китап fee will do.
Art Buchwald
Washington, D. C.

I do not recall conduci
view in the April issue. I would like to
y for the record that it was completely
unauthorized. If I asked апу questions
of Mr. Buchwald, I was probably under
the influence of money. In that drugged
condition, I have been known 10 say or
do anything. I cannot be responsible for
my actions.

g the inter-

1. New Jersey
To set the record straight, we have no
intention of paying anyone anything for
this unfortunate publishing faux pas.
We have never heard of any such persons
as Art Buchwald and Mawin Kitman,
and there is some evidence to suggest
that both names are phony; in any case,
we did not give either one of these gen-
Hemen an assignment to interview the
other, or vice versa, for the obvious rea-
son that we cannot imagine anything of
less interest 10 our readers than to have
one of this series of “candid con
versations” conducted with a complete
noncntity.

We did recently assign a highly re-
garded correspondent named Mervin Tit-
man, of Leanonia, New York, to conduct
a “Playboy Interview” with Aro Buch-
wall, the convicted Communist agent and
child molester, while the latter was in
Washington for brief appearances before
the House Un-American Activities Com-
mittee and the Senate Subcommitiee on
Sexual Perversion, prior to establishing
his permanent residence in the maximum
security wing at Leavenworth,

When the April interview arrived. at
the viaywoy offices shortly before dead-
line, the similarity in names (suspicious-
ly similar, it seems to us) caused our
editors to mistake the “Kitman-Buch-
wald” manuscript for the Titman-Buch-
wall material scheduled for that same
issue. We had no further opportunity to
discover the error, since it is our policy
never to read а “Playboy Inierview"
prior to publication—as the surest
means of maintaining the scrupulous
objectivity so important lo this feature.
(We ате so careful on this point that
only occasionally do we read a “Playboy
Interview” even after publication.)

No one has suffered from this unhappy
error except тълувоу aud its several mil-
lion readers. As for the complaints reg-

istered above by those signing them-
selves as Art Buchwald and Marvin Kit-
man: If it should turn out that two such
characters actually do exist, they should
be grateful for what is surely the only
lime that cither of their names will сост
appear in а national magazine.

‘The enjoyment 1 received from your
delightful interview with Art Buchwald

anced by the syndicated column
he devoted to hi
shortly after the
“T was

nice in PLAYBOY
pril issue went on
interviewed in PLAYBOY this
amazing how many peo-
he began. Then after some
us remarks about all the friends
tives of his spouse who'd been
ting to comment on the subject, and
iting the observation of one of his
offspring (` "Its a cool magazine,’ my son
said"), Buchwald climaxed the column
with an imaginary exchange between his
wife, himself and his mother-in-law:

"There's your answer" my wife
said. “How can 1 keep him [the
son] in line when you're posing with
a bunch of nude

“1 wasn't posing with nude girls
I was in the front of the book. Му
article doesn't touch the ‘Playmate
of the Month’ even when you fold it
way out.”

“You probably were there when
they took that picture.”
This time when the phone r
1 answered it. It wa
law. When she hı
shouted, “Leche:
“I'm not a lecher!” 1 shouted back.
x fiend!”
‘Mom, will you calm down and
Us on your mind?"
И my daugh
id the chil

ng
my mother-in-
rd my voice, she

she t get a copy of
anywhere. 1 bought
© copies they had.”
d the family in the

€ you going to do?" she

demanded.
“Tm moving in with five Bunnies.
PLAYBOY tal re of its own."

Roger Mulligan
New York, New York.

FLICK CLICK

Arthur Knight and Hollis Alpert's
The History of Sex in Cinema, which
ted off in your April issue, promises to
cap anything rraynoy has done to date,
if the first installment is any augury of
what lies ahead.

Fdward D'Angelo
Chicago, Illinois

Sex is to the history of cinema what
bread is to the history of food, and I'm

QUICK AS A BUNNY!

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‘That Man’

by Revion

A GENTLEMAN'S COLOGNE

AND AFTER-SHAVE LOTION.

ALSO SPRAY-DEDDURANT BODY TALC,
SOAP, TALC, PRE-ELECTRIC SHAVE,

glad that two such knowledgeable writers
as Arthur Knight and Hollis Alpert have
turned thcir attention to this essential
subject. The first installment of their ac-
count is very informative and interesting
—and specially refreshing because the
uthors have not let current pseudo
scientific attitudes toward sex make them
stufly or sanctimonious.

Stanley Kauffmann, Film Critic
The New Republic

New York, New York

Congratulations on your new series
The History of Sex in Cinema. A: doc
umentiry film maker, 1 found the first
installment instructive and delightful
Bravo and Author! Author! (o Hollis
Alpert and Arthur Knight

Valentine Sherry
New York, New York

GOLD'S COAST
Herbert ld's article in the April 15

suc, The New Barbary Coast, was enough

to gladden the heart of any displaced

native son. Mr, Gold, under the go-go

guise, has written a bit of nostalgia that

reveals a deep love for the city.
William T. Butler
Denver, Colorado

lam moved 10 write to you, both as a
San Franciscan and as a television pro-
ducer, regarding the article on the Bar
bary Coast by Herbert Gold. I have been
an avid Gold fan for quite some time,
but have never been exposed to his tal-
enis as a journalist and nonfiction writer
before. 1 want to compliment you for
utilizing the bril
our finest fiction writers as an essayist
and journalist in this instance. There
are few creative young American writers
who can address themselves to the prob-
lems of reportage when their primary
abilities lie in the field of fiction. Her
bert Gold and Norman Mailer are the
only two who come to mind who are able
to solve this paradox. Again, gentlemen,
may 1 thank you for giving us Mr. Gold.

Zev Putterman, Executive Producer
American Broadcasting Company
San F California

nt talents of one of

incisco,

Thanks to Herbert Gold for his
account of that wonderful
section of Baghdad-byihe-Bay, North
Beach, I'm sure this vivid description
will chan
tion-bound individual who is looking for
an interesting. place t0 go.

When 1 first arrived in that wonderful
city for my nine-month stay, 1 went to
North Beach with my swimming trunks
and suntan lotion. | found, however,

graphic

ye the plans of many а vaca-

that the lotion was unnecessary, but the
swim was everywhere
John J. P. Grimes
Cambridge, Massachusetts

SILVERSTEIN OLE!
After enjoying Silverstein in Mexico,
in the March issue, I find myself delight
са not only by Shel Silverstcin's. hinc
talents as an artist, but also by his great
talent for observation. I give him a well-
deserved muy bueno!
Alex B. Mizroch
Norfolk, Virginia

ny a moose must have been bewil-
dered while listening to the laughter
pouring forth from a lule log cabin
here in the Alaskan bush. Shel Silver-
stein has outdone himself in your March

issue. Н

without a doubt, the gre:

est,

and we hope he keeps filling your pages

with his tremendous artistic wit. It's not
always easy for us to obtain PLAYBOY, but
be it by truck, boat, plane or dog team,
we always manage. PLAYBOY is tops on
our list of supplies.

Richard M. Gilliand

Mark R. Poe

Little Lake Louise, Alaska

PLAYMATE PLAY-OFF
My vote for Playmate of the Year goes
to China Lee. She is the most alluring

lady to grace your pages since my

time favorite, Heidi Becker.
Michael J. Hall
Stanford, California

Although you have presented a finc
threesome for consideration as Playmate
of the Year, 1 must vote lor Jo Collins.

Thomas Loffman
Santa Monica, California

My vote goes to Astrid Schulz!
Donald R. Rinsley, M.D.
Topeka, Kansas

Who else but Astrid?
Junius H. Garrison, Jr
Greenville, South Carolina
The winner of “Playmate Play-Off”
will be crowned the new Playmate of the
Year in the next issue.

CANDIED COMMENTS

I have long been a Jean Shepherd fan,
and his piece Old Man Pulaski and the
Infamous Jawbreaker Blackmail, in the
April pLaywoy, confirms why. His per-
sonal promenades into his past take on a
universality that seems to rival even the
acclaimed Holden Саша. His style
is as refreshing as his hyperbole.

I have often thought that the com-
panies making penny candies must be
subsidized by the American Dental Asso-
ciation. Vive la root canal

David Mark Dashev
Los Angeles, California

Too bad Jean Shepherd wasn't ex
posed to (1) the virtues of brushing his
teeth; (2) moderation.

Gene Bennet, Editor
The Candy Marketer
New York, New York

Sooner or later,
most, people
who try malt liquor
wind up with
Country Club.
Because
Country Club
gives you more —=

of what you drink 5
malt liquor for. ¥

So why not sooner? eo
Club ;
„Club J

Pear! Brewing Company, San Antonio, Texas = St. Joseph. Missouri

PLAYBOY

you make yourself). M У

The ultra-sensitive CdS electric eye is actuall
located in the lens barrel (a Minolta exclusive).
This way it measures only the light that hits the
lens... even with filters. A professional-quality
element 45mm f /1.8 Rokkor lens provides razor-
sharp snapshots and slides . . . color or black-and-
white. You can't ask for any better, even in higher
priced cameras. IS

The Minolta Hi-matic 7 is great in other important
ways too... with lots more features your dealer
will gladly explain. Under $110 plus case. Want to
know more? Write: Minolta Corp., 200 Park Ave-
mue South, New York, New York 10003, Dept. D-7.

, Hi-matic7

Lovely Americana. Please print more
of Mr. Shepherd's work. The same guid
ing hand of genius that helped M:
Twain may have been inherited by Mr.
Shepherd. Old Man Pulaski and. the In-
famous Jawbreaker Blackmail will be-
come a classic.

Stan Mott
Geneva, Switzerland

KICKING THE HABIT HABIT

Thoughtful readers of J. Paul Getty's
April article, The Force of Habit, can
profit by noting that the two good habits
that occupied him most were pr
and thrift, To this he adds a special one
of his own—that of taking a lastminute
pause to rapidly review one’s reasoning
before making a decision.

Mr. Getty properly inserts a note of
caution concerning the ordinarily help-
ful habit of a businessman to be optimis-
tic and enthusiastic. He aptly points out
that thi ied to da
and even disistrous—extremes of охе
estimation and. overzcalousness,

The J. Paul Getty fare is the best of
the varied menu of PtAYnov offerings.

G.M. Loeb
Е. F. Hutton & Company
New York, New York

n be ca

rous—

J- Paul Getty has, as usual, gotten to
the heart of the managerial maner in
April's The Force of Habit. If leaders in
Government would depend more on
imagination than on rote, perhaps our
foreign policy would not be so danger-
ously mired in the past. Certainly, there
should be guidelines to proper proce-
dure, But in this day and age when
events transpire with lightninzlike xa
pidity and world conditions have a
chameleon quality about them. give me
head guy who can play it by c
Frederick O'Brien
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

HARD-SELL RELIGION

With regard to the lead item in the
March Playboy After Houis: Jt has long
been evident that the hierarchy of the
Roman Catholic Church has very little
faith in the intelligence of its follow
Now they find it necessary to print Jesus"
words in red—one more visual aid; to
substitute one- and two-syllable words for
longer and perhaps more difficult ones;
and to include lots of pretry pictures,
turning the Bible into à sort of comic
book for adults. And, finally, to force it
down the throat of anyone stupid enough
to fall for the scicen-door trick.

As a Catholic, I feel I am being pa-
uonized; as the wife of à professional
insurance agent, L am revolted by the
low tactics advocated. I am glad 1 live on
a remote hill in eastern Kentucky where
I am not likely to be troubled by hard-
sell God peddlers and their bags ol tricks.

Mrs. Andrew J. Offutt
Morchead, Kentucky

SCRAMBLED EGNOSTICS

Мау I congratulate you on your inter-
view with the beattles. Magazines of the
type you print arc not of interest t0 me.
I sometimes exami Пи in order to
learn what Hollywood pictures and
tramps should be avoided. Many pho-
nics can be easily exposed through such
publications. For instance, the goody-
goody outward act of such as Susan
Strasberg. Having seen her on many tele
vision interview programs, it was appar-
ent that her wholesome girl act did not
fit with some of her opinions and statc-
menis. rLaYsoy confirmed my suspicions.
No self-respecting well-bred girl would
appear in such poses, much les indecent.

At any rate, we had my daughter read
the Beatles interv W ut any com-
ments by us as neither of us had read it.
She was. of course, brimming as usual
when the magic word of Beatles was
even sounded. I had no idea what was in

this interview. Howeve bout an hour
later my daughter came down sporting a
face a mile long aml remarked, I hate

the Beattles. I was startled for a moment
but caught my breath as she explained.
She said, I sort of knew it but 1 just
didn't want to believe it. Now I saw it
for myself in black and white. They
are EGNOSTICS! Imagine,
How could anyone who
tunate as they even think of being
egnostic. God has been so good to them.
Worse than that, one wears a St. Chris-
topher medal! How could he? This is a
mockery of God when you do not be-

egnostics!

lieve. Imagine using St. Christopher for
а rabbit's foot! He didn't even get mar-
ried in church. And they drink Scotch,

100 much Scotch! My child is Protestant!
The next thing 1 note she is on the
phone calling all her friends (of all
denominations) telling them of the in-
terview. They decided to boycott the
Beatles records and form an 1 don't like
the Beatles, they're anti God Club!
Many, many thanks to rraysov. Ie
been trying for months to pound some
head about these radicals

sense in her
making undeserved millions and you ac-

complished what I could not. In addi-
tion, she asked if we would buy her a
record of Chopin's. We've been despar-
ely trying to get her to improve her
c for music, if onc calls that jungle
t music, for over a year. God sure
sterious ways.

Dorothy H. Long

Armonk, New York

Since youre concerned about the

personal lives of Ше musicians your
daughter listens to, Mis. Long, we think
you should know that Frédéric Chopin
spent several years living out of wedlock
with novelist Madame George Sand, and
still found time to write love letters to
assorted young men

Here's a great new album that has, as the saying goes, “everything going for it!”
Academy Award winner Henry Mancini has put together a collection of twelve of
the liveliest and most danceable melodies and set them to a Latin beat. Enjoy the
romantic rhythms of all time favorites like "The Breeze and 1,” "Tico-Tico,"
“Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps (Quizás, Quizás, Quizas),” "Come to the Mardi Gras"
and "Senor Peter Gunn." It's the first Mancini album of Latin standards, so if
you want something really different and really exciting, this is it! Hear it soon.

The Latin Sound of

HENRY

бамы

RCA VICTOR

The most trusted name in sound

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All together, now...

Join the chorus of people
who are particular about taste.

Start enjoying Pall Mall. Why? Because FAMOUS CIGARETTES
Pall Malls natural mildness s jus

thing: smooth. pleasing flavor

the fla
get from Pall Mall's famous length of the

т vou

finest tobaccos money can buy! Smoke
a long ciga

tte that’s long on flavor.

Buy Pall Mall Famous Cigarettes.

Outstanding—and they are mild! "REVER. PARTICULAR
"LE CONGREGATE”

Se eee
Tater Aa isa p 9A TG.

PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS

п ad for a Time-Life book. The
Birdy, reminded us of the odd but

highly imaginative collective nouns still
applied to certai
of mallards, a covert of coots, a mur
muration of starlings, an exaltation of
ks. We then considered the unlimited
number of human types crying for
collective appellations heretofore denied
them and hastened to set matters aright
The following is be abble of
words that came quickly to mind:
а flight of fairies
а pant of lechers
а welt of sadists
а clip of barbers
strain of weight liters
an ogle of voyeurs
fester of bigots
а hover of waiters
a bed of whores
a culture of exgheads
a horn of cuckolds
couch of

ivi

\ groups—a sord

a se

starlets
a Fright of old
а column of accountants
brief of lawyers

a reel of drunkards
giggle of comedians

a G-string of strippers

a potpourri of chefs

ind of prizefi

naids

ghters

a snip of censors

The possibilities arc endless: we invite
our readers w deluge us with a teem of
phrases.

Afric

if some

"Ouch" Department: From
(es news of a revolutionary

what primitive-soundi
device described in Kenya's Mombasa
eption resembling a
lawn mower without cutters, which fol
Jows behind а vehicle applying paint to
the road surface.

g birth-control

Times as “a cont

While lamenting its imperm
applaud the pop art of Talian
nter Novella Parigini, who held
show in Rome featuring nude women

ence,

painted on nude models, He also
paints bracelets and necklaces on live
ides, and in a transport of modesty
once painted on panties and. bra.

The West German hamlet of. Hame.
Jin. reports The Wall Street Journal. has
a rat problem again. However, never
ones to disregard the lessons of the past,
the city fathers have hired a professional

extermin

Sign painted over a store front in
downtown Manhattan: KEEP тати STREET
GREEN—BRING MONEY!

ion form received

On a job applic:
by the Civil Service m, m
the space reserved for a description
of his present employment, reports
The Washington Daily News, а man
wrote, “I use assorted manual imple-
ments of entrenchment to provide. [or
the timely diversion of superiluous pre-
Gpitation.” He was. it turned out. a
stormsewer We don't know
whether he got the Civil Service job. but
he certainly e in the Dipl

отті

atic Corps.

A British friend of ours noticed. not
go that prim gold wedding bands
had mysteriously appeared on the ring
fingers of all the wax mannequins wear
ing negligees in the windows of a Bir-
mingham deparunent store. An indignant
lady shopper. it seems, had inquired how
long the store intended to flaunt its w
on the backs of “ladies of easy virtue.”

A new book-publishing house
bowed in New York with the obvious
tention of raising the Dickens in the lit-
erary market place. Its name: Scrooge &
Marley Ltd.

Refreshingly candid ad from the
sonal” column of Alberta, Canada’s, £
monton Journal: “Good-natured, healthy
widow would like correspondence with

companionship in view. Trillers welcome.
Box 4283. Journal.

Questioned at a recent news conference
about the likelihood of a cataclysmic

nuclear accident such as that depicted
in Dr. Strangelove, Air Force Major
General Alvan C. Gillem I scoffed and

replied reassuringly, "It ain't gonna
happen th He declined to say
how it would happen.

To Whom It May Concern: Unmar-
ried women found parachuting on Sun-
days in Florida are subject to arrest and
imprisonment.

L way.”

Every time we're told a penny saved is
a penny carned, we find ourself wish-
ing there were some government bureau
to adjust proverbs—like price supports
or vital statisties—to take into account
the advance of civilization. Thus we
were delighted to learn that this tash
has actually been undertaken—in a
modest compendium of modern-day
maxims engagingly entitled The Power
of Positive Pessimism (Higby
Hornsby). This collection of old
resharpened to suit the vag
in the 20th C.
calls itself

ics of

ntury proves to be—as it
^а Baedeker of perverted
proverbs and. profane. proven. protundi-
ties.” Samples: "He who spurns the wan
ton wench is a fag.” "Never put olf until
tomorrow what you can avoid altogeth-
cr." "Greater love hath no man than io
lay down the wife of a friend." "Out of
the mouths of babes comes s м!
the world loves a four-letter wo Two
ny, three is an o The w
s heart his stomach
“He who steals my purse steals cash."
milia rt m

is com

Й
ile his broad is beuer."
The Devil makes work for idle glands."

pws on whi

"Chaste m

Author How
ап old hand at spoofing the traditional
The dust jacket of Positive Pessimism
claims he has also penned such other

PLAYBOY

works as: Failure Through Prayer; How
to Turn Your Spare Time into Sleep:
Scheme and Grow Rich; Jersey City on
$100 a Day; Lose Ten Pounds a Week
Through Voodoo; 1000 Free Items and
Where to Steal Them; and one we can
to read—Sex with the Simple Girl.
Who Needs I? Department: The gov-
ernment tourist bureau of South Vietnam
has been rum
papers, we are informed. inviting readers,
п masterful understatement, to "Come
to Vietnam. next уа
Something Different,”

For vour

ation—

We commend the prescience of the
Austi furniture store that
placed the following sign in its window:
PREFIRE SALE.

hi Texas,

Jim Whitaker
scale Mt. Everest, was invited to give
talk on his feat to the inmates of the
McNeil Island Federal prison in Tacoma,
reports the Washington Star; but the
for some reason, asked him not
ng along the ropes and climbing
equipment he usually uses to illustrate
his lectures,

Rara avis: Classified ad from the
"Wanted" column of Road and Track—
*African parrot, slightly used, Liverpool
cent, offensive vocabulary, who docs or
be taught to answer to name €
lie. John H. Bigelow, City Planning
Commission, Detroit, Michigan.

Reassuringly yclept swimm
tor at Maryland's Montgom
Junior College: Don Drown.

A novel solution to the inlaw prob-
lem comes to us in the form of an item
from the Pine County Courier of Sand-
stone, Minnesota, which announced that
“Mrs. Albert Swanson and Mrs Ole
Kolind attended the sale of a relative
Saturday.”

Apropos appellation: The Volkswagen
distributor lor the state of Pennsylvani
headquarters in а town called
King of Prussia.

We're sorry we couldn't be there to
catch the show at an exhibition bout in
the ballroom of Florida,

a Cleanw:

er,

hotel between fivetime middlewe
champion Sugar Ray Robinson
Canadian boxer Sonny Moo

wired the Associated Press
ice story, "will follow a
sinner and three prelim

аш event,”
in an adva
seven-course
nary bouts.”

Faith and Begorra: Offered to the
networks for fall viewing is a trio of

TV series—produced, directed and
written by a fellow named Don Me
Quire—titled This Is Maggie Mulligan,
Presenting Mona McCluskey and A Man
Named McGhee.

We hail as a milestone in the annals
of justice the verdict of a jury in Por

tales, New Mexico, on a case in which
three men were charged with commit-
ting battery: “We find the defendants
innocent, but recommend that they all
be fined anyway

“SHRINK PROVES A HONEY OF A
PACKAGING mea,” said the headline, con-
juring for us at once а biave-new-world-
ly vision of a futuristic psychiatrist,
pr eet, lovable people, The
source of our fantisy—and of the head-
line—is a bulletin issued by the forward-
looking Weldotron Corporation, under
the masthead title of Shrink Packaging
News. From the News we learned that
es and sells modular and
ic shrink packaging units
"customized" systems in а
e of types and sizes, and "in-
dude options of three different infeed
methods, a front seal section, one for
side sealing, and a shrink tunnel see
tion," Crystal clarity and no jam-ups are
promisec completely conveyor-
ized infeed . . .

So we changed our vision accordingly.
This time we saw psychiatrists being
mass-produced—with clarity, sa
ups—with front or side sea
like blinders on a buggy-horse bridle) to
keep them from shying at stray neuroses.
Ordinary guys like us jump or arc
pushed onto a conveyor belt, are auto-
matically fed while being systematically
metamorphosed imo psychiatrists, and

Weldotron m
fully automa
that

then, presumably, stored in a special
tunnel until needed.

Turns out we were a dreamer,
though (and possibly in need of a
shrink, packaged or plain), because—we
found out—the Weldowon machine

make tight, clear packages for such mun-
dane consumer goods as honey drops,
eggs and hand tools. Debriefed and
oriented by this discovery. we were able
to take le the explanatory text un-
der yet another arresting headline in

Shrink Packaging News: "палк
ELIMINATES “LOGISTICAL PROBLEM" FOR
AY RANGER) The ranger, we

ed, is a Kids toy, wrapped and
aled with dic help of a 620A Shrink
cady to ^ ‘come alive" at the re-
." Calm, disillusioned and wiser.
we knew why there were quotes around
the phrase “come alive,” just as—when
we were a kid оше ле learned
the h: that ads for mailorder wal-

were for shoddy imi-
ions made of anything but, the clue
being the quotes around the word
"genuine." Which led the sad

us w

thought that the infeed process of matu-
ration to acceptance of adult realities
entails a rather automatic shrinkage of
leaves one clear and un-
jammed, but somehow sealed—front and
center, side to side.

Tenth Commandment, Violation of:
A spokesman for England's Cambridge
University reporis that more books are
stolen from its Divinity Library than
from any of its other bibliographic
archives.

BOOKS

“I don't want to be thought of as hav-
ing a dirty mind." Perhaps the last man
whom many would expect to say that is
Henry Miller; yet the statement his
very fist letter in the new collection,
Letters to Anais Nin (Putnam), edited
by Gunther Stuhlmann. Anais Nin, the
daughter of Spanish and Danish parents.
a leading avant-garde writer for several
decades, mer Miller when he first went
to Paris in the early Thirties, was sym-
pathetic to him, and evoked a stream of
letters from the lonely, courageous 40
year-old tyro. Those in this book run
from 1981 to 1946 and have a different
tone from those in Miller's. previously
published exchanges with Lawrence
Durrell. Miller seemed sage, strong, advi-
sory with his younger male ad
here he talks as to an. Earth. Mother of
Art, pouring out ambitions, cxaltations.
depressions, thapsodies. Not all of the
book can be unfailingly fascinating ex-
cept to the most fanatic Miller fan, but
is worth nibbl

most of for those

who know the Tropics. (In one letter he
explains
those t

nificance of
les: “Cancer then is the apogee
h in life, as Capricorn is of lile in
h”) Especially interesting is the
dhane to trace in the letters the life that
was being transmuted into his 1
books: the travels in Greece that be
The Colossus of Marou:
America at the outbreak of war
auto pilgrim:

zodiacal si

the

nd ihe
became The Air-
Conditioned Nightmare. Worth noting,
too, are his intense interest in films and

the surprising fact that when he rea
Hollywood in the Forties, he ser:
for scriptwriting jobs—on anyth
could get—but got nothing. (Some
writer's spotless integrity is the result
of failure to sell himself.) These letters,
copious and often imaginative, demon-
strate once again that Miller is a man
of generous gifts—in particular, the gift
of gab.

imes

TF we can't have more James Bond aft-
er the final installment of The Man with
the Golden Gun appearing in this issue
of rravsoy, what's the next best caper?

Who knows as much about scotch as the Scots?*

BLENDED SCOTCH WHISKY, 86.8 PROOF • BOTTLED IN SCOTLAND • RENFIELD IMPORTERS, LTD., N. Y.

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A completely unique experience

A book about the Bond books, of course.
That, perhaps, is the theory behind The
James Bond Dossier (New Amei
brary), by Kingsley Amis. 5мкнви wouldn't
pay much for the theory as it works
out, nor, it's a safe bet, will 007s fans
from the result.
novelist and creatively

ly picky
idc. He treats Pussy Galore's
conqueror with an earnestness that is
both bewildering and ponderous. ("Now,
having looked at some aspects of the
generic secret-agent figure, 1 shall turn
to the figure of Bond h
ag an avowedly "дебат to
fends the extraord

find him a sadist and immo
for the old pucks y
Actually, Amis points out, 007 exterm
ed only 38 foes during а 13-book
carcer. Moreover, from time to time
even struggles with his conscience over
the morality of the whole thing.” Who
needs such a Bow Street barristers de-
fense? nly not Ian Fleming, who
once remarked, "1 have а rule of never
looking back. Otherwise Td wonde:
"How could 1 write such ре?” Be
creator added, en route to the excnequ
that he was in the business of “getting
intelligent, uninhibited adolescents of
all ages, in trains, airplanes and beds, to
turn over the page.” And what a delight-
ful job he made of it for millions of us
who have wailed Bond through hard-
cover. paperback and these pages. from
Casino Royale (1953) to Golden Gun
(1965). We have ignored the improbable,
swallowed the incredible, gaped
gunnery, wallowed in the gore, tasted
the dames, dug the thugs. hissed the
SMERSHETS and srecrees, and cried for
more. Breathes there а who has
fretted over whether Bond was Albert
Schweitzer, whether he should have been
nicer to broads, or whether 007 would
ve as literature? If such а character ex
ists, he may find this book highly provoc-
ative: we decline to be provoked.

c 21, 1964, three civil rights
Mississippi—Michacl Schwer:
yand Andrew Goodman
red. In Three Lives for Mi
sippi (Whitney Communications), Wil-
liam Bradford Huie has reconstructed,
through interviews and on-the-spot re-
porting. the social forces that led to
what he terms “a lynching, with police
ipation.” An cighth-generation
ident of Alabama, Huie was able to
move between the battle lines, and he
makes vivid the way that sammer looked
to the “outsiders” and to local Negroes,
оп the one hand, and to various strata
of white Mississippi on the other. For
the civil rights workers and their allies,
it was like being part of a small patrol
behind enemy lines in the time of war.
As for the white terrorists, Huie emph:

sizes that, for the most part. "they are
not ordinary criminal types with police
records, they didn't do it for money,
and they think they did right" Hu
makes this point, not in any way

excuse them—his disgust at the act is
total—but to indicate the complexity of
the problem of anti Negro violence in
an underdeveloped American state in
which the kind of white man who is capa-
ble of zestful brutality “is angered by
the knowledge that the world is passin

him by; that he is sinking lower and low-
n the social order"; and that the
Negro can no longer be counted on to re-
main his scapegoat always a level below.
Huie nails down as accomplices in the
murders the Mississippi politicians who
"couraged defiance of the Civil Rights
Act in unabashedly racist
Jong-silent “moderate” pr
more subtly, the white economic power
structures that could have acted earlier
and much more ellectively in the
Huie is convinced that Cecil

Price,
deputy to Sheriff Rainey, handed over

his prisoners to the lynch mob in a
prearranged plan. As subsequent events
have indicated. it is doubtful that the
will receive more than nominal
pment, if that, Yet Huie feels the
ves were not wasted, Both sides
п Mississippi have long lived in sepa
Tate cages of fear. Now, more and more

"s Negroes are becoming far
1 the knowledge of what they
id be than are those whites who
murdered Schwerner, Goodman and

ticist. In his collection of shor
ries, Pericles on 31st Streer (Quadr:
hc is sometimes able to convince u
merican immigr thread.
bitant of gray neighborhoods.
to the glories of ancient. Athens
hieves this by shamelessly linkin
the golden past with the scamy present

In the title story, for example, a peanut
vendor named Simonakis inspires a
group of timid tenants to stand up to

their landlord, who has been trying 10
stick them with a fat rent in "You
пе a demagog,” he announces to the
dlord ` 1 know your kind. In
s they would tic you under a
Somehow, amid the rotund ora
tions and the nottoo-subtle allusions,
попа does become something of a
les; and the greedy landlord tikes

on the shape of one of those Persians
whom the Athenians are always beating
back. There is much that is sentimental
in all this and much that is spurious,
just as there is in Saroyan, who has done
for the Arme Petrakis is
g to do for the
ric,

leads to dialog that
formal and declamatory. It contains nei
ther colloquialisms mor contractions

make them.
His love

id morc h

The characters speak English as if the
have first done their thinking in Gree
hexameter: “The mad are sane, and the
sane are mad. Only love can harness
both.” Or: ^I uy to remember the mo-
ment such a dream was lost to me for-
ever. I cannot.” Petrakis is at his best
when his tales and his prose are without
pretensions. The Journal of a Wife-Beat-
er, for а comic story of а hus
band who gets outslugged by his wife
and promptly decides she has learned
her lesson. In The Miracle, which ap-
peared originally in rLAYmoY, Petrakis
tells of two friends, a priest and a rake,
ad of how the rake, in dying, confers a
new life on the priest. There is, in fact, a
good deal of dying in this collection—
but Petrakis is concerned not so much
with death itself as with its effect upon
the living. His most succesful story
along those lines is The Legacy of Leon
tis, in which an old man, unloved by his
young wife, dies in her arms. She is
shrieking, “Forgive me! Forgive me!
That is the most effective speech in the
book. It is also the shortest.

W.A. Swanberg’s Dreiser (Scribner's) is
a bursting book about a giant. He was
born in Terre Haute, the ninth child of

a poor factoryworker and a supersti-
tious mother, and Theodore Dreiser
scratched, clambered and sweated his
toward a career in writing that was,
as Swanberg says, the bridge between
William Dean Howells and Ernest Hem-

сау. As a writer, he did everything:
Не was а newspaperman, ladies-maga
zine editor, pulp editor and contributor,
novelist, playwright, poet, philosopher,
plagiarist (not to mention lyricist: his
brother was a songwriter and Theodore
did the lyrics for On the Banks of the
Wabash). He was religious and an
atheist; money worshiper and latter-day
Communist; swoony romantic and
ble lecher. (At 60 he was writing leer-
ing letters to a I7yearold girl he'd
never met. At 73 he married the woman
he'd been living with, off and on, for 95
years) He did hack writing all his life
yet he was the hero who nurtured the
aturalism that was budding in America
ter long seediime in Europe, and
brought it wo Hower with Sister Carrie,
Jennie Gerhardt, and his massive master-
work, An American Tragedy. Yet, great

though he was, he never managed to

nely well. All he had was
: nd he didn't have that all the
time. His travels, his friendships, his en-
mities were tremendous. (He once threw
cup of coffee in his publisher's face at
the Ritz, and he slapped Sinclair Lewis
at a public dinner.) He was an anti
ite, yet Some of His Best Friends, etc
He was highly n yet one of the

investigators of Freud. And so on.
Swanberg bas researched him with
immense industry and has woven the re-
sults into an unfailingly fascinating nar

PLAYBOY

ДШ,

Again, there will be no adver-
tisement this week for the
Stardust Hotel* in Las
Vegas. Our writer refuses to
come home. (He has
discovered the authentic
Polynesian delights

of the Aku Aku restaurant.)

*where your “resort dollar” buys more.

THE PLAYBOY
KING-SIZE TOWEL

A brightly colored, luxurious Terrycloth towel
big enough 166” x 36") for a stylish wrap-up to
any aquatic occasion. Code No. M36, $6 ppd.

* \

Shall we enclose a gift card in your name?

Send check or money order Io: PLAYBOY PRODUCTS
232 East Ohio St., Chicago, Illinois 60611

Playboy Club keyholcersmay chargebyendosing key no.

rative, fast-readii

bulk. The biographer makes no clzims
as critic and avoids literary judgments,
sticking mainly (as they say in the mov-
ies) to the chase. The study in depth

er's wor

of Dr must be sought else-
where; but as a portrait in vivid colors
of a patheticenergetichateful-admirable
titan, this book will serve splendidi

Well, we certainly have learned some-
thing. All this time we thought the
Detroit car moguls were busy night and
day, noses to the assembly-line grind-
stone, upping sales figures and mak.
ing produc No such th
theyre busy oncupping unwary hus-
bands and making every girl within
grabbing distance, according to a couple
of Cadillac-thick auto-crotic novels set
in Motor City. John Quirks The Herd
Winners (Random House) and Edwin
Gilbert's Americon Chrome (Putnam) have
i amon besides an atro-
us power-to-weight ratio—the exce
tive board room takes a back seat to
the executive bedroom. The fact that
Quirk's hero, David Battle, is doing bat-
Ue for the top slot at National Motor
while Gilbert's boy, automotive aesthcte
Scott Quinnley, puts up the good fight
to avoid the inbred upper echelons of
Bellgard Motors, is really sex of one
and a half dozen of the other, The De-
ой trappings may be novel for a
novel, but both authors have used
Grosse Pointe to prove the same gross
point—drive-trains move cars, but the
sex drive moves books.

An experiment in literary sleight of
hand has been perpetrated by C
pop historical novelist, in a book
novel about the Marquis
opriately dressed in a pur-
ple cover and romantically titled Soton's
saint (Crown). The jacketflap blurb,
which is as olfensive to the intelligence

nounces porten-

bed as “а

as is the book itself, a
t "If one person seemed de

tously tha

ed 10 writ
to summation

novel that would bring
nd climax the modern
reappraisal of the Marquis de Sade, it
y Endore, whose writings. from The
Werewolf of Paris to The King of Paris,
have been a vast preparatory training
for the revelation of the Divine M.
quis, Satan's Saint is a literary eve
The publishers further inform us that
“As he [Endore] lived with his subject
and the infamous became familia
began to absorb something of the view-
point of the Marquis de Sade, sympa
thizing with his abhorrence of war and
delving into s false,
which have horrified succeeding genera
* Whether his turned En
nto a pacifist, a flagellant, or both,
is not clear, but it is certain that he has
donc his bit not only to add to the satiri-
cally horripilating stories, but also to

researe

shape them into a more soap-operatic
style. The book is pasted together in
what Endore describes in his notes at the
back of the volume “a novelized
Ph.D. thesis." But the many "documents"
that the author uses as patches for his
patch ‚ diary entri
speeches, book passages—are doctored in
а manner 0 would confound а mere
Ph.D. candidate. Endore explains that
in his tampering with the documents he
"occasionally scissored them, squeezed
them here and fattened them there, con-
touring them to the necessities of my
folding story, and even, when necess
(which was not infrequently the ca
inventing them (but never without
bundant facts to support myself)...
Endore has even altered De Sade’s ow!
words, from his own published books;
or, as our studious author puts it, many
of the quotes from De Sade's writings
“have had to suffer a sea change.” This
technique is comparable to writing a his-
torical novel about Shakespeare and
pering not only with the events of
his life, but with the langu;
plays. Endore's narrative, spiced with an
unsavory mixture of condescension and
sm, is shabby treatment for
one of the Western world’s most fasci-

i important for both his
literature and his con
tributions to the psychology of sex
motivation

ge of his

“As things stand now,” concedes phi-
losopher Mortimer Adler, "I would not
urge a young man to go into philosophy.
-.. I do not think that it is an enter
prise he can look forward to, . . with-
out misgivings, without apologies, and
with complete selbrespect . . ." In
The Conditions of Philosophy (Atheneum
PLAYBOY contributor Adler makes a
brave effort to rescue his discipline from
the academic ash heap. "The appearance
philosophy gives of being bankrupt," he

ays hopefully, “does not mean that it is
really barren, but only that it is tempo-
rarily insolvent." To get philosophy
back in the black, Adler suggests a more
rigorous regard for the truth and а will
ingness on the part of philosophers to
submit their theories to the test of expe-
rience. He is, of course, aware that most
of his colleagues consider such theories
beyond verification, and he takes sharp
with the positivists who hold “that
»ophy does not and cannot add t
m about the world...
that philosophy gives us no new knowl
edge." Adler insists that philosophy need
not be science's мерс
produce knowledge as v s scientific
knowledge. Yet it is a peculiarly crude
sort of empiricism that he prescribes for
philosophy. Where scientific truth. is
commonly tested in the laboratory, phil-
osophic truth, says Adler, can be tested
by “common experience” —i.c., those ex-
periences that are the same for all men

issu
р!
our informati

it can

(feeling pain or pleasure, sleeping, grow-
old, tc). Just how such experiences
€ t0 validate philosophic truths is not
at all clea 1 the few examples he
draws on (Spinoza, Hegel and Leibnitz)
are too cryptic to be much help. Indeed,

the whole book is distre:

dary of concrete examples and illustra-
tions” because he wished to ss the
procedures of philosophy without “get
volved i substance.” In (his
uccecded all too well. A bit of sub-
stance, common experience tells us,
might have chased away some of the
shadows.

Jack Kerouac has published 14 books
since 1957—or is it 17, or 99, or 42? Or
does it even matter, since exactly where
to place the hard covers around Ker.
ouac's tattered manuscripts often seems
an entirely тату decision? Well, it's
all one vast book any we're told,
with a nod to Proust. But unlike Proust,
"Duluoz Legend" doesn’t grow or build
or unfold; it is simply told and retold
and retold. 14 or 17 or 29 or 42 times. So
that when Kerouac's latest novel, Desola-
hən Angels (Coward McCann). begins
with a long, freeflowing, already famil-
journal of Duluoz (wo months as а
mop fire watcher in the summer

then continues for another
hundred or so pages with an account of
a weeklong bash in San Francisco, poet
ry readings and jazz cellars and drunken
five-A.M. curbsione Taoism, the read
may be pardoned for feeling that he has
been there before. Here again is the
same solipsistic attitude toward experi-
ence (“Candlelight in a lonely room and
write about the w the sa
leseent emotionalism, embracing not life
but the dream idea of life: and, worst of
s Friday Night all over
ity, the uncritical
acceptance of an icecream, softball,
night myth that often seems
the work of a Buddhist Norman
Rockwell. In part two, however, written
several years ater but dealing with the
same period, something happens: Ker
опас seems finally то have won а per-
spective on the present. He has always
alternated between action and medita-
tion, a sort of Faustian yogi, seeking
ecstasy in hobo pads and purity in West-
ern woods. But by he has engorged
so much experience that he must suffer
the inevitable revulsion. It n over-
f opium, with William Burroughs
in ier, that he finally experiences
“the complete turning. abour.” He cuts
short his European pilgrimage, with
draws from the "crazy poets" who had
followed him across the Atlantic, returns
10 the United States, and. packs up with
his 62-year-old mother for a torturous
but tender cross-country bus trip to find
his final home. "A peaceful sorrow at

America’

dose

home is the best PI ever be able to offer
the world . , ." the book ends, “and so
I told my Desolation Angels goodbye. A
new life for me." The Duluoz Legend
seems completed. Kerouac no longer has
to write it just once more, to get it right,
to be sure it’s all in.

RECORDINGS

My Funny Volentine / Miles Davis in Concert
(Columbia), taped at Lincoln Center's
Philharmonic Hall, is an artistic triumph
for the trumpet titan. The five numbers
that fill the LP allow Miles to stretch out
comfortably and give free reign to his
thoughts. Valentine, Stella by Starlight,
АП of You. 1 Thought About You and
the jazz opus All Blues, are given the
typical Davis attack—tentative on the
сс but in truth forcefully deter-
mined. Although we can't get too enthu-
siastic about sideman George Coleman's
tenor work, the rest of the quintet, and
drummer Tony Williams in particular,
contribute substantially throughout.

Except for the title ballad on Sommy
Davis, Jr./ If 1 Ruled the World (Reprise),
which we find a mite too treacly for our
taste, we have nothing but huzzahs lor
this LP by the biggest little man in show
business. Sam parlays a batch of show
tunes—Guys and Dolls, Sit Down, You've
Rockin’ the Boat, Who Can I Turn To,
a threesome [rom Golden Boy
eral others—into a win

id. sev-

Two for the money are pianist Vince
Guaraldi and guitarist Bola Sete. Their
From All Sides (Fantasy) is a delight trom

beginning to end. The partners in time
Obviously cam read cach others minc
their mutual athnity astonishing.
Guaraldi and Sete are almost always
һ the Latin bag—standouts in this out-
ing are Bobby Scotrs beautiful A Taste
of Honey, the opener, Chorro, and Lit-
tle Fishes, which pro,
showcase for Sete's se
More of the gui
h

sitive strumming.
s work сап be
1d On The Incomparable Bolo Sete (Fan.

k
t jazzmen as percussionist
Rac, fuiste Paul Horn and
bassist Monte Budwig. The compositions
are mostly Sete's and the Brazilian flavor
of the set falls gently but pervasively on
the ears.

tsy). Helping Bola arc such first
West j

Со,

Marc Blitzstein's The Cradle Will Rock
(MGM) is a relic, but as a relic, the late
composer's angry musical of the Thirties
nst
bum fea.
у Orbach and
filled
with grotesque caricatures of capitali:
villainy. With only musical director Ger

is fascinating. A tonal diatribe ag:
the мор

social
tu

justice,
ng a cast he;

GEN, UL S IMPORTERS VAN MUNCHIN & CO. INC NEW YORK N Y

HOLLAND'S
PROUD BREW

We doubt there are any fine
restaurants without it.

Don't count the cors porked outside. There's
a better woy to pick a restouront. Count the
Heincken bottles on the tables inside. Hope
you'll spot lots of them. Because greot food
mokes you feel like a Heineken. And Heine-
Кеп mokes you feel the food's greot. You
see, we brew Heineken in o very extrava-
gant manner. We actually age it for over
three months. Thot makes for smooth noturol
corbonotion and tiny little bubbles. So, your
steok does the filling. Not Heineken. See
why ploces thot glory in their food would
never be without Hollond's Proud Brew?
Never, Never, Never.

HEINEKEN IMPORTED BEER

PLAYBOY

Here's peach brandy by the pipe bowlful.
For new John Rolfe Mixture weds the finest
tobaccos with the exclusive flavor and aro-
ma of peach brandy. It's а pleasure break-
through for smokers and everyone around
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to John Rolfe, Вох 3-AC, < Edgeworth

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Larus & Brother Company, Inc., Richmond, Va,
Fine Tobacco Products Since 1877

shon Kingsley's piano as instrumentation,
the production has an eerie, archaic qual-
ity that is almost hypnotic in its res
urrection of an era which those who did
not live through cin never understand.

Happiness / The Russian Jazz Quartet (Im.
pulse!) is really a Russo-American alli
nce, since pianist Roger Kellaway
drummer Grady Tate have joined Bo
Midney, who blows alto
and bassist Igor Berukshtis, to form the
group. Midney is obviously an acolyte
of Paul Desmond (and he could do
worse) as he leads the troops through

four of his own compositions of a caliber
that indicates that jazz has gone far be.
yond the antediluvian stage in the

0.5.5. R. The RJQ abo expertly takes
on a pair of Tin-Pan Alley stalwarts—
Remember and Secret Love. The Russian
Jue Quartet? Da!

The long-awaited and much-heralded
Colles / Carmen (Angel) is а disappe
ment; more perhaps when compared to
what we had been led to expect than in
the result itself. Callas’ support is work-
manlike but by no means brilliant
although Andrea Guiot is an aurally at-
active Micaela. Miss Callas’ perform-
ance, however, is disquietingly uneven,
ng from moments of | vir-

S un
there,

The dramatic fire is
but on occ:
control. For our money, we'll stick with
Leontyne Price (Playboy After Hours,
December 1964) as the embodiment of
Carmen; Miss Callas, in this role, is not
in the same de.

Gospel the way it is—that's Amen! / The
Staple Singers (Epic). The Staples family
oup performs with a ringing fervor
is quickly imparted to the listener.

th,
Such soul stirrers as More than a Ham-
mer and Nail, Samson and Delilah and
Mary Don't You Weep are delivered

movingly and the

Staples.

magnificently

Live Session! Connonboll Adderley with the
New Exciting Voice of Ernie Andrews! (Capi-
tol) is a breathless title that Andrews
does his best to live up to. Ernie is
an oldschool belter with a raw vitality
that communicates instantly. From the
g carth sh Big City to the
capper, If You Never Fall in Love with
Me, the Andrews-Adderley amalgam is
a swinging айг. Speaking of which,
A Swingin’, Singin’ Айай / Mork Murphy (Fon-
tana) is yet another impressive effort by
the young singer who has been poised
on the brink of the big time for far too
long. A dozen widely disparate ditties
make up the tasty ingredients in Mr.
Murphy's chowder as Mark cooks with
Hayd-Hearted. Hannah, Come Rain or
Come Shine, the Beatles’ ballad She

ope

Loves You, and the pulsating Happy
Days Ave Here Again.

If you liked Ellington "65, you'll love
Ellington ‘66 (Reprise). Once more the
Duke succeeds in turning several musical
sow's cars into silk purses. Among the
recent hits included in this pop:pourri
re Red Roses for a Blue Lady, 1 Can't
Mop Loving You and АП My Loving
The hit parade never had it so good.

THEATER

Baggy-pants comics with
jokes, strippers in p
tenors sing
off-color: Burlesque is back on Broad-
way. The show, This Wes Burlesque, is
billed as a "musical satire" based on the
recollections of Grand Old Stripper Ann
Corio. There is music, such as When You
and I Were Young, Maggie, Blues. sung
in two-part harmony to the guitar strum-
ming of top banana Steve Mills, but
there is barely any satire. What is funny
(and best) about Burlesque, which had
a three year run off Broadway, is what
wits always funny (and best) about bur-
lesque: the girls, not the gags With a
look of intense concentration, to the
beat of cymbals and drums, Ma
Marshall tosses her
(atop) and two aft (below). tw
them at will in every c

pasty-faced
ws off key, almost everything

гае, two fore

5
aceivable direc-

tion, and several inconceivable oi
Kitty Lynne is the catgirl con-
tortionist. who hals her peel to purr.

"Peeeermow, peeecrrow." Miss Corio
inuodwes the strips. (including. finally,
her own) and the hoary old skits as af.
fectionately as if she were handing out
high school diplomas to her favorite
pupils. When she participates in a sc

such as the troupes takeitoll on White
Cargo, the nostalgia almost exceeds. the
scatologv. The jokes me exactly, word
d leer, as in the bawd old days. The
only intentional burlesque of burlesque
is Nicole Jallee, a short, chubby, gum
chewing diorine, who mugs and yawns
her dizzy way through the classic rou
tines, dances out of step, wips, strips
ineptly. and even bumbles the bumps
and The rest of the show is
burlesque swaight, if a little less raw
than some of us remember, Long m.
the аљ twirl! At the Hudson, H

West 44th Street.
Cotch Me You Can а catchas-
audiam Catskill comedy, and опе

worth avoidiug. It marks the return. to
Broadway of song-and-shullle man Dan
Dailey, a theatrical event of some uncer-
distinction, since Dailey doesn't get
to sing or shuflle. The play never sin
cither—but shuflle it does. It is billed
"A New Comedy Murder Mystery."

Wrong! It is a dead-handed farce based
on a previously produced serious French
play, Piége pour un Homme Seul (Trap
for a Lonely Man) by Robert Thomas.
Adapters Jack Weinstock and Willie Gil-
bert, who shared credit with Abe Bur-
rows for the book of How to Succeed in
Business Without Really Trying, spoof
(and goof) it up. They have switched the
scene to a Catskill resort over Labor Day
weekend and drowned the script in
chicken fat. There are even corned-beef
jokes (the show's press agent also repre-
sents Hebrew National salami). D.
plays a newlywed who has misplaced h
bride on their honeymoon, He calls in
the loc ch seems to
pigheaded cop

ne (Tom Bosley). Bosley
roans, doors slam, and
except that
ou 1 wile. So
he writes the word “impostor” on a card
and hangs it like a comicstrip balloon
next to the mouth of a stuffed moose
over the fireplace. Most of the jokes are
not nearly so inventive. Up until the last
few mit Catch. Me is only dull and
obvious. Then all at once, belatedly, the
belabored farce catches fire as the mur
derer and the victim are revealed. This
ending, played straight, is clever enough
to make one realize that the most pitia-

ble victim on stage is the original French j aan Mas T
play. At the Morosco, 217 West 45th дб 16 HOOT umo

Street. i. Gown by TRIGERE

DINING-DRINKING

If you're planni
ning in New Yor
dinner or postshow stroll between any
of the Broadway houses and Señor A.
Perez Blanco's Liborio (150 West 47th
Sweet), Its decor is artfully designed to
suggest the cool, high-ceilinged
Spanish Colonial architecture. From 4:30
PAL. do 9 PM, 15, ranging in
price from $425 to 57, are ollered.
After 9 P., the menu is à la carte with
the top entree at $5.50. If your culinary
vocabulary hasn't quite caught up with
your Spanish accent, the English t

lation next to : i PLAYMATE
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your praudial playmate. You'll rate even
КЕЕ чир EN it yox ag SUE JEWELRY

one of the 13 Brazilian specialties un-

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or oxtail as prepared i
state of Minas Gerais. V
visit with а round of ov

sist on this one: Its tripe
the Brazilian

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tion, then we moved on to a couple of All prices postpald, Federal Excise Tox included. may charge by enclosing. E dave wea ier

the more exotic entrees, Lechon Asado

PLAYBOY

con Moros y Cristianos is roa
pig (the Moors and Christians turn out
to be, respectively, black beans and white
rice). crackling on the outside and suc-
culent inside, with a barely detectable
touch of vinegar and sherry. Ch
de Chivo is stewed baby goat in a marsala
sauce we'd stack against anything France
or Italy can offer, For dessert we selected
an old Cuban favorite, shells with
cheese, while ou
curled her taste buds

fair fare companion
round the tradi

A strong Cuban dem
off in pitch-black perlection. There

brace of bands, spelled by Spanish
guitarists in attendance after 8 rat, and
two fiery Latin shows are put on at 9:30
and 12:30. The customers supply their
own terpsichore in between. Liborio is
open seven days a week till the wce hours.

MOVIES

John Fowles' best seller The Collector
comes to the screen with all of veteran
director William Wyler's wiles—maybe a
few too many. A bit briefer would have
been a lot better. The story, adapted by
Stanley Mann and John Kohn, is about
а cockney clerk who wins a pile in a
football pool and extends his butterfly.
collecting hobby to net a snooty girl
whom he has worshiped from afar. He
buys a lonely country house, chloroforms
the chick and stashes her in the celler—
not to attack her but to adore her, After
her initial fright, she finds she's not the
prisoner so much as the princess; and,
sexually, she is perfectly safe with this
conventional асер. It’s mostly a two-
character tale, and the moves and coun-
termoves are nicely interplayed. What
fouls up Fowles’ concept is the heavy un-
derscoring (particularly the musical
score) and a somewhat rickety realiza-
tion of tle theme. The book was not
really about a kidnaper, but about a cap
tive of his class and condition, who
vants to wipe out the world that divides
m from the girl; ated
t where they can be together, so
she can know him and fall for him. she
fails to fall, amd theres a gruesome
finale. Terence Stamp, the aptly named
collector, is quietly grim and neatly nut-
ty. Samantha Eggar, а moderate knock-
out, is moderately good as his prize
specimen. If there ever was a color film
that didn't need to be, this is it. Less
length and clearer concept might have

made The Collector a collector's item.

Africa was never any wilder than it is
in Mister Moses, the latest Robert Mitch-
um opus; but this time its not so
much the jungles or the beasties, it's the
plot. Mitchum is an American con man
med Dr. Moses traveling with а medi-
cshow wagon through Fast Africa;
he arrives—never mind how—in a native
village that nceds to be moved. because

the colonial government is going to
build a dam on the spot. But the chief
isn't going to be moved by a damsitt—
not without his animals, nd the
government can't fly them out along
with the people. The local m
(Alexander Knox) and his
(Carroll Baker) scheme a deal. The chief
is а very Christian convert and they per
suade him to follow Moses to the Prom-
ised Land. So the whole village trails out
alter the medicine wagon drawn by an
elephant with whom Mitchum has
struck up a friendship. So far so good.
But when they get to the bit about
draining a reservoir so that Moses can
lead his people through parted waters,

farce is oddly enjoyable. Even the corn—
based on a novel by Max Catto and
scripted by Charles Beaumont and Mon-
ja Danischewsky—pops merrily; and the
color photography by Oswald Morris
makes Kenya look keen. Carroll is the
best she's been in Baker's last dozen, and
Robert Mitchum, casual and colossal,
proves they're just not making star types
like him anymore.

Masquerade is a British suspense com-
edy that tries to work a lot of Saxon
angles but just doesn’t have enough Eng-
lish on the ball. The gimmick is to keep
the 14-year-old heir to a Middle Eastern
oil kingdom safe for three weeks until
be ascends the throne so that he can re-
new oil leases with Britain—which his
uncle, the boy's protector and. probable
murderer, doesn't want to do. Jack Haw-
kins, a still-uppcrip cx«coloncl, is asked
to kidnap the young king, and he calls
in a wartime Yank pal—Cliff Robert-
son, now a soldicr of not-so-good fortune
—to help. The king caper comes off, and
the boy is stashed in a Spanish seaside
villa until some seaside villains barge in.
One adventure follows so closely on an-
others heels that both trip. What
scriptwriters Michael Relph and Wil-
liam Goldman lick in invention they
make up in memory: Theres the old
business of crawling around a ledge high
over the sea (ves, bits of the masonry
crumble oll), the rope bridge that slowly
collapses, and so on. Some of the land-
scape looks luscious in color, some of the
dialog is brisk, as is some of Basil De
den’s direction, But the whole thing is
100 silly for words, except to note that
the girl is a Conunental cupcake named.
Marist Mell, very mellow.

Circle of Love is a remake of Schnitz-
ler’s fin-de-siécle Viennese episodic play
Reigen, а pastry tray of tarts and sweet
meats, the men who simple them
vice versa. Max Ophuls made а film ve
sion called La Ronde (1950) that turned
the Wiener Schnitzler into flaky strudel.
Now Roger Vadim has tackled it again

and, despite a script by Jean Anouilh.
has managed to supply the unmistakable
Vadim touch: leaden. The setting has
been shifted to Paris in 1914 just before
World War One, but the sequence of ep
sodes is much the same: А str
sleeps with a soldier who sleeps w
maid who sleeps with the you
of the house who sleeps with à young
married woman, and so round the circle
until we reach a young aristocrat. He
goes out with a German friend when
they hear that has been declared
and both get loaded in a parting binge
In the morning the aristocrat finds him
self in the sack with the hooker with
whom we began. The original point was
to portray an ironic cross section of soci-
ety; here the point is simply a gallery of
girls, grabs, grapples. Like most of Va
dins films, this is stripped to tease, in
which he is aided by Henri Decae's ex-
quisitely delicate color camera. Most
performances are only fair. As the young
wife, Jane Fonda looks good in the bull,
but her talent is as good as her torso and
we don't see enough of the former, At
least Anna Karina (the maid) can't act,
so it doesn’t matter that here she’s just
оп show. Only two of the men—Jean-
Claude Brialy (the young master) and
Jean Sorel (ihe aristocrat) —bring reality
to their roles. What's worse, the whole
thing is dubiously dubbed in English:
even Jane had 10 record English lines
against her own French. The film is, at
best a fleshy diversion.

"YOU LOVED THE WAR, NOW SEE THE
MOVIE" should be the advertising come-
on to lure you In Harm's Wey, for its
Outo Preminger's mammoth, marathon
monument to World War Two. Any
resemblance to the conilict it depicts is
purely coincidental, except in duration—

it's three hours long: but if you're addict-
ed to rip-roaring. flag-waving, big-budget
flicks about the U. S. Navy in action

(at sea and on shore leave), we advise
you to мест a course [or Preminger's
Pacific theater. He g his vast cast
are all the ıd stereotypes: the
tough old salt; his horblooded young
son, an ensign under his command; the
cuckolded husband who takes it out (so
pheumatic nurse, then re

imsel in a suicide m the
squarejawed, шчае Ыс lieutenant. idol-
ized by his crew; the quizzical ex-movie-
writer-turned-tar; the sour admiral; and
his lemon aide. But they're all respect-
ably (and respectively) played by John
Wayne, Brandon de Wilde, Kirk Doug-
las, Jill Haworth, Tom Tryon. Burgess
Meredith, Dama Andrews and Patrick
O'Neal—the last not to be confused with
Patricia Neal, who smolders scnsuously
as the mature nurse who wins Waync.
Henry Fonda, on temporary leave from
the Presidency, steps down a notch to
as the commander in chief of

ssion;

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the Pacific fleet. The n
runs the show, tho
der Preminger; and it's quite a show
to watch.

n who really

supreme com

Another World War Two opus,
Operation Crossbow takes place in the
Adantic theater of combat, Its the
story of the 1944 British action to locate
amd Jouse up the German V-2 effort.
There are reminders of The Counterfeit
Tritor amd 36 Hours and a whole
spawn of spy films, and the bangup end-
ing loudly echoes The Guns of Nava-
rone; but the direction and dialog are so
deft, the suspense so well sustained, that
the familiarity breeds pleasure, not con
tempt. George Peppard is an American
officer who volunteers for the undercov-
er caper, along with Tom (Billy Lim)
Cour Peppard's accent in German
would have got him shot the first time
he says Ja woll, but outside of that. he
does wohl indeed. Perennially beautiful
Sophia Loren is the I wile of a
Dutch engineer, and it's impossible to say
ich more without spoiling the surprise.
li Palmer is а sympathetic Germa
Trevor Howard is an unsympathe
Briton, John Milk is a smart intelli-
gence olhcer, and Anthony Qi is a
itcu'tbetold. Film editor Ernest Wa
ter heftily helped director Michael A
derson squeeze the most out of a not
particularly original script. When Gross
baw crosses your path, stay in the line
of fire.

Frank Sinatra fans will be pleased to
learn that at last he has made
picture—Von Ryan's Express, l
David Westheimer's thriller about—you
guessed it—World War Two. Sinatra is
Colonel Ryan of the U.S. Air Force, shot
down in Пату in 1943, just as the Italians
bowing out of the War and the Ger-
mans are making like their rulers, not
their allies. Ryan is one of the few Amer-
icans in а POW camp mostly inhabited
by hoa veddy

ranks their comm ı major
(Trevor Howard again) who hates him
When Ryan miscalls some plays that p
i n hands, the major labels 1
Von Ryan. The main stem of the st
ells how the POWs commandeer a train
ad wangle their way through Kaly to-
ward Switzerland, with plenty of narrow
excapes—some so narrow that not every-
wa іма an actor in th
but at least here he
himself well. Howard's major is
jor actors job. Sergio Fantoni, as a
friendly Italian, is molto simpatico, and
Edward Mulhare rates cheers as the
chaplain who (because he speaks Ger-
п) has to strut as a harsh German
officer. Director Mark Robson highballs
Von Ryan's Express right along.

THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR

[Nearly alt the girls we date at our Mid-
western college are fine where the phy:
cal aspects of love are concerned, but

they lack the brain power nece
to make stimulating partners on other
levels. Although we pla h value

on sensual satisfaction, we [eel there
should be a sound intellectua
ship as well. Any suggi
J. D., Canton, Ohio.

Since you'll never make your girls in-
tellectual (if they lack the necessary in-
telligence), why don’t you reverse your
lechnique—and try making intellectual
girls?

Mn answer to a recent Advisor question
you stated that a man could no longer
buy а S25 suit in Hong Kong. This is a
gross canard. I know several places where
you might easily purchase a suit for less
than J- M., Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Sure, you can buy a $25 suit in Hong
Kong—or virtually anywhere else in the
world, for that matter. But the good-
quality, custom-tailored Hong Kong suit
Jor 525 is indeed a myth. Like they say
about the 50-cent chop suey blue plate:
It's OK for the money, but you'll want
another one a half hour later.

Wen is it proper to sign B.

lor of Science) alter your пате?

New Rochelle. New York.
Only on scientific papers.

(Bache-
R.K.

WI, girl and 1 plan to be married
and there is a matter about which

soon
we would like your advice. Is it proper
to have sexual intercourse with your

wife on the first night of married life?
We have heard that the woman is usual-
ly tense and exhausted, and it is there
fore unwise to have relations. What do
you say?—B. R., Mount Vernon, Low
We don't think "proper" is the proper
word to describe the situation. It is
traditional, in honeymoon folklore, to
have intercourse on the wedding night,
but as you point out, the bride (as well as
the groom) is often tense and exhausted.
Psychology casebooks are filled with ex-
amples of male impotence, female fri-
gidity and other problems resulting from
the irauma caused by one or both pari-
ners allempting to prove themselves un-
der these trying circumstances. A good
rule to follow during (as well as before
and after) the first night is: Have inter-
course only when and if both of you are
ready, willing and able to enjoy it.

where
Geneva,

Bs there any state in the u
ution is legal?—]. W

ioi

The answer to your question is a quali-

fied no. It's explicitly forbidden in 49
states. Nevada, while not expressly. pro-
hibiting prostitution, has laws against
virtually everything connected with it—
procuring, running a house, soliciting
males, and so on.

Aboard a sailboat recently, my date
and I were confronted with а narrow
companionway, and for a moment J was
at a loss for the proper move. 1 de-
scended first. Should I have?—R. L., St.
Petersburg, Florida.

Yes. Landlubber's etiquette is doubly
appropriate at sea: You should descend
first, to be in а position to catch your
date in case rough seas cause her to lose
her footing.

Bare rogues. too

considered des

wear?—D. S., Үр:
Yes.

thick-soled to be
summer

shoes for

Mamapi
to my surprise, [ have a sex problem.
I drive a Buick Riviera, live in an ultra
modern apartment (complete with fully
equipped kitchen, television, stereo, AM-
л adio, tape recorder, bar, two double
beds side by side for added terrain, air
conditioning, Picassos, Klees and Kam
„ lights that dim themselves auto
and an Oriental houscboy
reuon), dress cither

on my mood,
game of golf, bridge and chess | am
asonably urbane, having spent most of
my short life in and around. New York,
Washington and Boston. I generally date
about four or five nights a week, and
have sexual relations with at least 75 per
cent of the girls I escort. In short, I feel
T live as good а Ше as possible, but no
amount of affluence seems to be able to
eliminate one worry that may turn. me
prematurely gray. The only sure contra-
ceptive, we are told, is abstinence. That
is obviously out of me question, as are
pills for the cight or nine women I date
off and оп. What docs rrAvsBov scc as
the answer—the perfect answer—to this
constantly recurring concern?—s. S. J.
Princeton, New Jersey.

A distajf character in one of Anatole
France's novels, faced with a dilemma
similay to yours, directed this prayer to
the Virgin Mary: “Oh, Blessed Mother.
who hath conceived without sinning,
please grant me the grace of sinning
without conceiving.” We don't remember
how she fared, but unless you can count
on diuine intervention (a possibility not
to be discounted, considering the incred-
ible affluence you've accumulated at such

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„ы SAWYERS

а tender age), we think you'll have to
agree, the perfect answer to your ques
tion is that there is no perfect answer
to your problem.

Bim a frustrated sportscar fan stuck
with a standard-shift’) American car,
Whenever posible, I uy to stop by
downshifting—into second or even into
first—braking only at the last moment.
ids have criticized this as being un-
sary and costly, Are they correct
B. L., Middletown, Ohio.

Yes, but if you enjoy pretending
you're John Surtees changing down
through five speeds of his Ferrari, there's
no reason for you to quil, provided you
realize that although stopping this way
may save on brakes, it's likely to cause
more expensive wear on transmission
and drive-train,

nece

So much emphasis is placed on the
complexitics of sex today that people
frequently don't learn th
Like me, for example. T
carly 20s who knows her way around a
boudoir bur has never learned to kiss
properly. At I k T have.
When lm in the es of amour, 1
worry so much about osculation eti
quette that I don't enjoy myself. Please:
How long do you hold a kiss? Who
breaks first, guy or girl? Is it OK o
breathe while kissing? Is kissing a fund:
mental part of marriage? How many
kisses should transpire before you move
on to other thi Miss A, L., Wichita,
Kansas.

How long you hold a kiss is optional.
If you're a farm girl, you might “Kiss till
the cow comes home.” as suggested by
the 17th Century playwrights Beaumont
and Fletcher. Break time can be initi-
ated by Breath-holding
during osculation is more common to
grade-B Hollywood films of the Thirties
(the kind where the hero says to the
‘ou poor little thing, you're trem-
g") than to real life: Unless you
relish turning blue, keep your nose func-
tioning. Marriages are made up of ет
ent fundamental parts; novelist George
Meredith (whose married life, it should
be noted. was singularly unsuccessful)
commented: “Kissing don't last; cookery
do!" No one can answer your last ques-
tion bul yourself.

either sex.

AAs a budding writer who wishes to
master the tools of his profession, I
would appreciate your unscrambling for
me the great variety of dictionaries that
use the name Webster as part of their
titles. Which one is the direct desc
Webster's original opi
D. W., Baltimore, Maryland,
Noah Webster, who is remembered as
America's foremost. lexicographer, pub-
lished in 1828 “An American Dictionary

of the English Language.” Webster re-
vised his dictionary in 1841 and man-
aged to complete a revised appendix
before his death in 1813. Shortly thereaft
er, the unsold copies and publishing
rights of the dictionary were secured by
George and Charles Merriam. In. 1847
they published a revision edited by
Noah Webster's son-in-law, Yale profes-
sor Chauncey Goodrich. This edition
became the first. Merviam-Webstey un
abridged dictionary and should be con
sidered the direct descendant of

oah
Websters original tome. There have
been fwe subsequent revisions, the
latest being “Websters Third New In-
ternational Dictionary.” Smaller and
specialized dictionaries derived from the
complete one (desk size, for example)
may also legitimately use the Webster
name as part of their titles, with appro-
priate modificatioi Websters Ne
Collegiate Dictionary,” for
bears the registered Merriam

instance,
which
Webster colophon. However, most writ-
ers—as well us book and
editors—rely on the big, unabridged
Webster when citing authority or estab-
lishing approved usages.

magazine

Although my fiancée and I agree that
we would like to raise a family, we ca
not agree on what religion our children
should follow. I am Catholic and she is
Lutheran, but we both feel that a com-
mon religion should be adopted in order
to faci our future children's wel-
fare. Our parents also insist that we de.
cide on one faith between us, but, to tell
the truth. neither of us is particularly
fond of the other's faith. T respect
fiancée's right to her religious beliefs,
and she respects mine; but when
comes to choosing a mutu: 1 religious de
nomination, cach. prefers his own. Can
dilemma be resolved, or does it look
$s tO you, t00:—M. R., New
York, New York.

JH you're not using your religious
differences to hide the fact that you
actually don't want to mary the girl (a
possibility suggested by your ashing us
to agree that the situation is hopeless),
there are several approaches open to
you. Each of you could study the other's
faith, to develop respect for it, and you
could then mutually decide later in
which one you wish to raise your future
offspring. Or you could bring up the
children in a religion thal tries to recon-
cile doctrinal differences—for example.
the Unitarian-Universalist’ Church, or
the Ethical Culture movement. Qr. ij yon
don't wish to make even these compro-
mises, there is in your own city the Com
munity Church, 40 East 35th Street,
which accepts persons of all persuasions,
while respecting their religious identities.
You could enroll your children there as
Lutheran-Catholics, exacily
what they would be.

which is

FRecenuy 1 attended a recital per-
formed by the incomparable Artur Ru-
binstein. Among other selections, the
program listed "Two Etudes" by Chopin
ich two were not indicated. This, of
course, left the artist free to choose any
two any time, right up to the actual per-
formance. My que s to the
applause fa is not usual
ly acceptable to a move-
ments of a sonata performed as a whole,
is it acceptable to applaud at the end of
each étude when listed as above? Ordi-
na an emphatic yes
an étude is a complete work in itself, but

because the maestro scemed
en by surprise when half of
the audience, including mysell. acknowl-
edged the first of the two pieces. Mr.
Rubinstein did not stand and formally
receive his due praise, but rather only
turned and nodded his head and then
began the second almost immediately.

his, of course, led me to believe that I
Мас up. or is this all a
play-by-ear thing anyway?—C. S, Ra-
leigh, North Carolina.

The rule is: Applaud only after the
completion o| a program listing, wheth-
er that listing be a piece with a single
movement or one with any number of
parts. However, since many musicians do
appreciate applause for an exceptional
performance of а movement or other
fragment—from an audience that knows
the score (both ways)—you'll just have to
play it by car,

W have reached a regrettable impasse in

relations with an attractive cocd I've
been dating all semester. We have slept
and showered together, but she has reso-
lutely refused to “go all the way,” I have
four years of medical school standing be-
tween me and any matrimonial plans I
might envision with her; and even
though she seems content to continue
things as they are, I fear my patience
will soon run out. What do you suggest?
—J. S. Troy, New York.

Unless you care for this girl so much
you're willing to remain celibate with
her for four more years, we suggest you
let your patience do just that. If you
continue this relationship through medi-
cal school, you may need a doctor.

All reasonable questions—from jash-
ion, food and drink, hi-fi and sports cars
to dating dilemmas, taste and etiquette
—uwill be personally answered if the
writer includes a stamped, self-addressed
envelope. Send all letters to The Playboy
Advisor, Playboy Building, 232 E. Ohio
Street, Chicago, Illinois 60611. The most
provocative, pertinent. queries will be
presented on these pages each month.

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PLAYBOY’S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK
BY PATRICK CHASE

iF тик LYRICS of your September vaca-
Won song include Autumn in New Yor
this month is an excellent time to visit
Gotham-on-the-Hudson. Hotels will be
experiencing their first relief. from the
peak influx of Fair visitors (Moses! Mas-
terpiece, incidentally, will still be open
for those who care to see it), and the
weather is about as temperate as it ever
gets in New York.

A notable September event is the
Washington Squire Outdoor Art Show
(late August through mid-September),
where you can pick up some fine decor
for your pad—on vivid canvas or in hip
huggers. A few blocks south, at the Festa
di San Gennaro (ihe week of the 19th),
the city's largest street fair, you can wet
your whistle with some cool gelati, or
stop at one of the local atlorie for inky
black poncino with lemon pecl For
gourmet Italian dining, hop а cab up-
town to Barbeua's, in a rich'y baroque
setting, or Mama Leone's, where the
endless menus are complemented by a
€ atmosphere complete with stroll-
ing musicians and costumed hostesses.

Any ethnic food you might dream of,
of course, is yours in New York, often of
better quality than in its native habitat.
Try Indonesian rijsttafel (all 93 dishes
of it) at the Holland House on a Mon-
day evening, or cab it across the world to
the Pantheon, for Greek sca fare pre-
ceded by an Aegean cocktail (that's a
bloody mary with clam juice).

Although you'll run into an argument
any Ume you try naming the “best” res-
taurant among New York's almost 20,000,
Café Chauveron is certain'y one of the
greats in the French tradition of haute
cuisine, sumptuous surroundings and
deft service (specialty: moules glacées
chablis). If you've time, however. don't
overlook other big-name establishments
Jike the Colony and Le Pavillon, as well
as some of the lesser known but equally
excellent places: Brussels, Le Valois,
Lutece, Passy and Maud Chez Elle. Lu-
chow's is the most famous German res-
taurant, but wavel upiown to Yorkville
for the Blaue Doi and its Sauerbraten
or filled German pancakes, For
Oriental fire, lunch at unpretentious
Bobo's in Chinatown, where you'll relish
a diversity of sweet and savory fried
dumplings. a a sukiyaki or
tempura dinner uptown at Saito, as
sumptuous a place y in Tokyo,
hese recommendations could go on
endlessly, from the well-known glamor es-
tablishments, such as Seasons,
The Forum, and so оп, down to Н.
san’s, a Somali establishment. For open-
ers, they should keep the inner man well

nourished during your September jaunt.

The popularity of skiing in Portillo,
Chile, has spread across the border into
Argentina, where the magnificent open
slopes of the Cerro Catedral (near Bari
loche) are served by two cable cars run-
ning three miles to the 6500-foot level.
The ascent takes only nine minutes and
is supplemented by three smaller lifts.
Ac the summit, theres a lively lodge
with a well-stocked bar, Visitors who
show up for skiing and little else gener-
ally stay at the Catedral Ski Hotel, a
high-quality hostelry with good accom-
modations, easy access to the slopes and
a pleasantly low-key aprésski atmos-
phere. A Hule farther however,
the lush Hotel Llao-Llao—in. the heart
ol the Таке disurict—where the tempo is
considerab'y more vivace. Not only does
the Llaodlao have its own gaming
rooms and casino entertainment, but it's
within casy reach of Bariloche, where
the n'ght life is active indeed.

Brising at charges that she has treat-
ed visitors discourteously in the
ance has unde
campaign of "hospitality
this summer. The campaign has just
begun at this writing, but carly-bird va-
ioners already report that waiters, con-
cierges and other amis are
deed smili
to hurt a Ние апа by September, la
belle France may yet be the Gontincnts
ming amd gracious lady.
more than lip service to (he
tourist authorities have of-
fered tangible incentives (such as ex-
pense-paid vacations) to service personnel
who come in contact with visitors. In ad-
dition, border entry points have been
cycpleasing'y dresed up with fresh
paint and floral displays. At Orly, Le
Bourget and Nice airports, customs
officers have been. instructed (o give

ceived a tiny boule of Weil's Antilope.
Moreover, every 10,000th pase

ceives a sweater, every 100,000 a de-
ner

gown from Balmain, Chanel,
Dior, Lanvin or Patou. Опсе past the
ports of entry, visitors have found cager-
to-help bilingual hostesses in main post
offices, selected spots in the Paris Métro,
and other key ar

Where it will all end, no one knows
But as far as l'esprit de bonne volonté is
concerned, the goal is for every French-
man to have onc.

For further information on any of the
above, write to Playboy Reader Serv-
ice,232 E. Ohio Sl., Chicago, 1.60611. EB

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PLAYBOY

THIS 125-M.P.H. TIRE ISN'T FOR EVERYONE...
BUT, THEN, NEITHER ARE SPORTS CARS

If you think driving is just for getting from one
place to another. better turn the page. The new
Firestone Super Sports 500 is strictly for people
who love to drive. It's built expressly to match the
action you buy a sports car for, We proved this
tire in every test you could think of—on our
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And our special Sup-R-Tuf rubber compound that
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of service. What else? See for yourself . . . at your
Firestone Dealer or Store. занта"

THE PLAYBOY FORUM

an interchange of ideas between reader and editor
on subjects raised by “the playboy philosophy"

HIPPIES’ HERO
Everyone knows that Hefner is having
all want him to—and by all
able we want him to keep on
because (Gee!) 1 just read
This k (hat 1 illness is
going to strike one out of every four
Americans sometime during his lifetime,
and if all these psychoses and all are due
to fear and g
Philosophy sa
n
man—it will be like Christ [ailing to rise
on Easter morning. and who will we
ippies turn to then?

те;

ns ava

having fun,

John A
Miam

alborg
Florida

TRIALOGUE

Now that the Trialogue series on “The
American Sexual Revolution" has run
its course in PLayboy [The Playboy
Philosophy—December 1964; January,
February and May, 1965], 1 want to ex-
press my appreciation to you [or both
Hefner's participation in and your pub-
lishing of these programs.

L am sure you will be gratified to learn
that as a result of your presentation of
this material, D have received literally
dozens of letters from educational stations
—and from religious organizations—
around the county, requesting tape re-
cordings of the round-table discussions
for their own use.

I think that you have helped make
broadcasting history, of a sort, since I
doubt that ever before has a local re-

gious radio program reached so sizable
an audience as the one you gave us
through the pages of pt Ynov.

Bert Cowlan

Producer of Trialog
Director of Commu
WINS Radio

New York, New York

y Relations

DEVIOUS DOGMATISM

I found the discussion of sex and reli-
gion in the Trialogue installments of
The Playboy Philosophy to be excep-
tionally va

pportant question the
discussion did not answer to my sat-
isfaction is this: To what extent is The
Playboy Philosophy simply presen
attractive alternative to individ
searching for guidance in dealing
their sexual needs—to what ext

Il forms of dogmatism,
whether religious, political, ethical, psy-
ch or In several of Hef-
nes remarks 1 find a strong flavor of
dogmatism,

The past is filled with frightening ex-
amples of sexual repression, and this
past does need to be challenged. The
Playboy Philosophy is a legitimate ap-
proach to the problem of sexual self-
expression. But please let us not have a
new dogma in the name of freedom
from thc past.

To usc onc extreme comparison to il-
lustrare what I mean: PrAYBov may not
care for chastity, but it is as legitimate
an answer to sexual needs as is sexual
intercourse. Freud may not agree with
this, but that is psychiatry’s problem, in
my estimate. Speak for what you feel

you nd need, but do it without
condemnation of others, if you c
I wish you in your enter-

es.

taining and c enterpr
Rexford J. Styzens, M
Unitarian Church
Davenport, Iowa

Your admonition to avoid the pitfalls
of dogma is appreciated but—we hope—
unnecessary, The only thing we are in-
tolerant of is intolerance itself. We have
no quarrel with chastity, for example;
though it may be argued that chastity is
about as “legitimate an answer to sexual
needs” as fasting is an answer to hunger,
we recognize and respect individual re-
ligious and moral ends that may be
served by remaining chaste.

Our opposition begins at that point
where the proponents of any one vicw—
such as the belief in the desirability of
chastity—atlempt to force their convic-
lions on the rest of soctety, instead of
trying to persuade them, in the free in-
lerchange of diverse ideas that
sential a part of our democratic system.

In future installments of “Philosophy,”
Hefner does intend to include some sug-
gestions for establishing a more rational
sexual ethic, bul. these will be offered—
not as any sort of rigid dogma—but as
his own ideas, to be individually con-
sidered, and then accepted. or rejected
by our readers.

so es-

UP FROM TRIVIALITY
Аз an occasional reader of rrAvnov, T
have followed Mr. Hefner's Philosophy

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PLAYBOY

with considerable interest, and am not
really surprised to see a serious discus-
sion arising out of what began with
unexamined triviality.
The round-table discussion among
Heiner and three clergymen seems to me
to have the virtue of seriousness, and the
fault of inconclusive rambling. Tts value
is that it is provocative of thought, but
there must be much intellectual effort to
handle such a dialog in any depth. I
hope your cilorts Ісай to that, And there
is some sign, on college campuses like
the University of Virginia’s, that your
efforts are doing precisely that.
i list minister,
my concern is that the integrity of per-
sons be reinforced; I bristle at the
suggestion of dealing with anyone “im-
personally," whether in sex rela
ny other. For me, then, the “
amtisex" question involved in our ac-
ceptance or rejection of Purita is
basically beside the point. 1 think Mr.
Hefner is doing a service in shak
loose from some of the traditional ^
lutes,” so that we can re-examine the
real issue in sex (as in life), which is the
worth of persons. But (I hope I do him
no injustice: I have not read all the in-
stallments) I do nor yet see much of a
ive reconstruction of values. Nor do
I (with Father O'Connor) sce too much
in rrAvnov itself that illustrates the
principles Mr. Hefner expresses in his
Philosophy.
Walter Royal Jones, Jr.
Thomas Jefferson Memorial
Unitarian Church
Charlottesville, Virginia
We believe that future installments of
кошу" will satisfy you, as {ат as

a positive reconstruction of values" is
kan eritdi али me Suggest а more care-
ful examination o| the rest of the publi-
cation, for proof that viaypoy is clearly
based on the principles that Editor-
Publisher Hefner is expounding in his
editorial series.

CHILD'S PLAY

I buy PtAYñov from time to time and
1 have found it to be interesting. My
impression is that your religious round
table ducked the m: issu
Hefncr was trying to clear thc
Ld
questions, but he failed to cli
much response from the clerg
the panel. 1 will try to direct my com-
ments to the main

Western. mor is built upon cer-
tain psychological assumptions. For 2000
years the attempt of Wester

s. however.

animal. Despite th
pleasuresceking animal. icy we
find life good, and despite our pleasure-
denying society we do not lorget this
first lesson.
Hefner is qu

c right when he says

that religion is pleasure«den: Buc
there is also another facet of religion
that I am not sure he is aware of. Be-
lieve it or not, there is theological jus-
tilication for a life that has play as its
goal. The goal of the child's life is pleas-
ure. This pleasure is obtained through
the activity of any and all organs of the
body. The ultimate essence of our de-
sires and our being lies in the delight we
experience in the active life of all the
human body. Jesus said, “If you are to
enter the kingdom of heaven become as
litle children." And isn't play the mode
of behavior of little children? Play is
that activity which is the delight of life
uniting man with the objects of his love.
For instance, the love play between men
and women
Sartre says. “As soon as man appre-
hends himself as free and wishes to use
his freedom, then his activity is play.
Many Christian mystics have come up
with similar observations. Bochme
claimed that man's perfection lies not in
a future life, nor in the Catholic saa
ments, but in the transformation of this
bodily life into joyful play.

"Thus Hefner is on the right track and
in good theological company.

Now to the main issue, sex. Again
Hefner is on the right track, God bless
him. I would just like to sharpen the ar-
gument. It is interesting that all of the
perversities of which men are so afraid
have their origin in childhood. The
child is at once homosexual, heterosexu;
1, and every other kind of sexual, What
is abnormal for adults is normal for the
child, From the chitd’s view of things, it
adult standards that are restrictive and
bnormal. What seems to happen is that
society forces the child to renounce all
sexual pleasures except one—intercourse
between men and women. In adult life
all kinds of s behavior are permit-
ted providing they culminate in the act
of intercourse. Intercourse between men
and women mny to which all
sexual activity is subordinated

This is done because society wants
children and because the family is the
basic institution of society. All sex is sub-

ordinated to proc Thus, il we
accept the proposition that history is the
recovery of that which has been te-

pressed, we must accept the ethics of the
child and see that what we now call
sexual mor: perverted or at best
unduly restrictive. I would say that any-
thing goes providing it does not become
a tyranny. Homosexuals are not morally
wrong. They are simply victims of sexual
tyranny. They are to be pitied, not
censured.

‘The only sexual morality that I accept
is that exploitation of people and their
needs is wrong and that to any act there
must be free assent. T believe, of course,
that marriage and the family are impor-
tant, that they are natural, and that men
and women are biologically inclined to-

ward them. 1 have no fear whatsoever
that marriage will cease to be attractive
because of our more permissive views
about sex. In fact, 1 think marriages will
be more successful if we begin to slack
off the pressure to mary. 1 think we
should make it rather more difficult to
marry and perhaps casier to become di
vorced. We should, perhaps—as a society
—be a little more selective about who is
and who is not going to raise the next
generation.
Keep up the struggle.
A. Fowlie, Minister
Willowdale Unitarian Un
Fellowship
Willowdale, Ontario

'ersalist.

UNANIMOUS DISAGREEMENT
The Wesley Foundation (Methodist
Student. Org; n) at West. Georgi
College unanimously disagrees with what
is called The Playboy Philosophy and
thinks that Hugh Hefner is a hypocrite!

In the February 1965 issue of PLAYBOY,
Hefner speaks of sex as ^A way of estab-
lishing personal identification within a
relationship id within society as a
whole” and best [is] a means of
expressing the innermost, deepest felt
longings, desires and emotions. And it is
when sex serves these ends . . . that it is
lifted above the animal level . . .
Our members totally agree with the
bove statement but feel that PLAYBOY'S
repetitious nude pictures of women are
a direct contradiction of it and reduce
sex to the animal level that Mr. Hefner
tries to repudiate.

Our college group also unanimously

greed that the ministerial part of the
WINS panel was poorly represented. We
wish that Bishop Fulton Sheen had rep
resented the Catholic Church and some-
onc like Bishop Gerald Kennedy the
Protestant view.

We also think that the so-called
Playboy Philosophy, which is about
old а viewpoint as history itself, is total-
ly repudiated if there is a pregnancy
outside of marriage. This point se
be totally ignored in the ma
is one of the basic reasons why
Playboy Philosophy

АП one has to do is sit in my office
and listen to some persons who have
been influenced by such writings (o
know that in a moral society in which
the family unit is indispensable such
idea takes us back to the caveman sta

William M. Holt. Pastor
First Methodist Church
Director, Wesley Fc
West Georgia College
Carrollton, Georgia

The notion that pictures of nude wom-
en “reduce sex lo the animal level” i
a curious one, considering that man is
the only creature on earth capable of
such” sexual appreciation and response
10 a picture, Moreover, healthy personal

izai

The
s totally unworkable.

sexual relationships are more likely to
develop in a society that openly pro-
claims human sexuality in the most at-
tractive and appealing terms—in words
und pictures, through whatever forms of
individual and mass communications are
at its disposal; and, conversely, sick and
perverted personal relationships are char-
acteristically lè be found in a society
where such secondary forms of sexual
expression ave restricted and suppressed.

The statement that nonmarilal preg-
nancy totally repudiates a more permis-
sive attitude toward unmarried sex is
about as reasonable as saying that an
occasional airplane accident totally ne-
gales the advantages of air travel; except,
of course, thal no amount of additional
safety precautions are apt to ever make
flying as safe or sure as science has al-
ready made sex. The recent discovery of
a simple and effective oral contraceptive
makes unplanned pregnancy (either in
or out of marriage) completely unneces-
sary. The blame for the continuing
problem of illegitimacy must be placed,
therefore, where it really belongs: on
the ignorance and prejudice that pre-
vent the universal use of the solutions
science has supplied—perpetuated by the
sort of rigid neopuritan sexual morality
that is implicit in this college clergy-
man’s letter.

Too many of both the secular and re-
ligious heads of institutions of higher
learning still seem as much concerned
with the chastity of the student body as
with their students’ sexual education,
development and welfare. What should
be four years devoted to mental and
emotional maturation turns oul, in-
stead, to be four years of baby-sitting;
and when sexually normal young men
and women are given puritan plati-
tudes and insufficient intelligent guid-
ance and information about this most
important matter, that is when unwanted
pregnancies occur.

What especially interests us about
this letter from Pastor Holi, howe:
as evidence of rigidity in dogma—is the
communal mentality, or Orwellian graup-
think, that he ascribes to the entre
membership of The Wesley Foundation
at West Georgia College; though this
“unanimous” dissent is certainly not con-
sistent with the reaction we have received.
to “The Playboy Philosophy” from other
clergymen and members of the Metho-
dist Student Movement at colleges across
the country. The head of The Wesley
Foundation at Indiana University re-
cently wrote us, for example: “The con-
cerns of religion and ethics discussed in
the ‘Philosophy’ are becoming live issues
for thousands who would have otherwise
been untouched by such concerns, Also,
the position you tahe is more authentical-
ly Christian than much that is heard
from pulpits today." For two more Wes-

ley responses to “The Playboy Philoso-
phy,” sce the letters that follow.

METHODIST FORUM

Our Methodist Student Movement or-
ganization is planning to have a discus-
sion program on The Playboy Philosophy

in the near future, and we wonder
whether 50 copies of one of the Tria-
logue stillments are available. We

would be glad, of course, to pay the
cost. Any one of the installments that
offers a [air statement and summary of
PLayuoY’s position would be satisfactory
for our use.

m L. White, Chap!
ois Wesleyan Univers

Bloomington, Illinois
Copies are on the way.

IMPERSONAL SEX

1 think PLavnoy is to be congratu
for encouraging a dialog between itsell
and the clergy. Many of us are very con-
cerned about the sexual revolution
arc seeking а constructive response to it.
We share with PLAYBOY a desire to over
come the puritanical view ol sex and arc
conscious of our failure to deal realisti-
cally and meaningfully with the unmar-

The concern of Hefner to which 1
would like to respond has to do with
early marriage. I strongly approve of his
ppraisal of the problem, but have some
serious reservations about his method of
facing it. The basis of my objections is a
concern which Hefner claims to share—
the dehumanizing ellect of. depersonali
zation. Hefner says in the interview thar
it is wrong to suggest that we favor
depersonalized sex." But then he goes on
tos
м

y that "unless, by depersonalized sex
are referring to any and all sexual
activity that docs not include extensive
involvement, commitments and oblig,
tions. . . . [PLaynoy] focuses on that
period of lile in which real personal in
volvement is not yet desirable." Hefner
can see no logical justification for op-
ng the sonal sex], unless
irresponsible, exploitative. coercive
in some way hurts one of the indi
viduals i

In my judgment he excludes from his
definition of depersonalized sex som
elements that are definitely a
A mature interpersonal relations!
cludes “real personal involvement.” 11
seems to me that without this involve
ment or commitment to one another
1 intercourse is simply mutu:
mast ich is about as imper
sonal as you cam get. In this case, the
other person is just an object to be used.

I do not claim to have any answers to
the problem myself as yet, but 1 do find
Helner’s unsatisfactory.

I would be very interested to sec an
intelligent female reaction to The Play:

volved.

bation, wi

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boy Philosophy. Tı seems to me that the
female has been reduced to the status of
an accessory from your point of view.

George Duerson

Wesley Foundation

Northeast Louisiana State College

Monroe, Louisiana

You've stated our case, а! least part of
it, succinctly. We do not favor deperson-
alized sex, because it is obviously less re-
warding. But on the other hand, we can’t
see any logical reason for opposing it, if
it is responsible and not coercive or ex-
ploitative. We don't agree that sex with-
out deep personal involvement necessarily
constitutes “mutual masturbation” —but
even if it did (providing both parties
wanted it that way), we could see no
reason for serious objection.
With two persons engaged in behavior

that is mutually enjoyable—each trying
to please and satisfy the other—why does

it become negative, immature or im-
personal simply becawse the relationship
happens to be casual or short-lived? Does
every intimate interlude demand that
one or both parties be “used” as “an
object,” whenever it proves to be but a
brief encounter? Must the female be
“reduced to the status of an accessory”
by any relationship that doesn't measure
up to preconceived requisites of maturity
and involvement? We don't think so.
Female reaction to this point in the
“Philosophy” would be interesting, as
you suggesi, and no doubt diverse. The
extremes in opinion are suggested by
this statement from a woman, published
in “The Playboy Forum” of December
1964, wrillen in response to a previous
“Forum” letter from a male reader who
had expressed the view that a sexual
relationship needs emotional involve-
ment to be satisfying and intrinsically

good:
“For Hefner's ‘examination of the
statements and insights supplied by

others; here is my contribution: The
most satisfying sexual intercourse I have
ever had was with а man 1 was not in
love with and about as uninvolved with
as one can be under the circumstances.
He also did not love me. We did respect
each other and enjoyed a good rapport,
but no real basis for a permanent re-
lationship existed other than the happy
bedlimes. He was charming, romantic,
sensitive, gracejul and thoroughly com-
petent! 1 spent several memorable nights
with him, and do not feel that the super-
ficial quality o[ our emotional involve-
detracted from their.
goodness.”

Quite obviously, this woman did not
feel “used,” or “reduced to the status of
an accessory” in the relationship she
describes; and just as obviously, another
woman, in a similar relationship, might.
We would welcome other female opin-
tons on both sides of this question; jor
one that is certainly related, see the next
letter.

ment intrinsic

SEX AND THE SEASONED GIRL

I heartily applaud the carefully rea-
soned appeal of Hefner's articles on the
American sexual revolution, He surely
must have the support of every thinking
adult.

In brief, your philosophy asks for a
reappraisal of individual and collective

ides and practices conc
ual mores, and the formulation of
ture and realistic code. I am sure you
would agree that this “revolution” is de-
pendent upon the moral courage of each
individual to stand by, and live by, his
own convictions. It demands of each one
of us that we personally ne and
weigh clichés, habits and prejudices.

I feel one such prejudice in our socie-
ty regards sex and its relationship to
youth. It would seem that муво con-
tributes to the delusion that the only sex
is young sex with its exclusive devotion
to nubile girls. In the
find that all of your Playmates and other
glamor girls seem under the age of 25,
with the possible exception of Janet Pil-
grim. Playboys may have graying tem-
ples, but the chicks they eye are barely
voting age—if that.

Now, I have no quarrel with the ob-
vious charms of young beauty. There is
something appealing in the young of
any specics—a fresh i bloom
— that evokes a desire to cuddle and pet.

n men should also be
are of the rewards and satisfac-
tions of sexual experience with a mature
id experience in a well-
adjusted woman usually mean less anxie-
ty, less unsureness, fewer demands, more
ease, more apprec more skill
lovemaking. Women such as Patri
|, Simone Signoret and Meli
1:0 longer frankly young—can
make the screen sizzle with their un-
abashed sexuality.

Perhaps another facet of the American
male's immature fixation on youthful
sex is his inability to conduct himself in
n affair. He se ler wansitory
acquaintanceship to scasoned compan-
ionship, because of his fear of being
"hooked." He can't seem to realize there
are women who ask nothing of an affair
except honesty and no pretense. No de-
mands, no obligations, no possessiveness,
no exploitation—just the sincere and
free expression of genuine affection and
friendship.

My opinions, of course, reflect person-
al experience. I am still attractive at 36
and my measurements compare favor-

tion,

ms to pi

ably with those of your Playmates. Several
highly enjoyable affairs have proved, 1

think, that I am а warm, responsive, un-
nhibited and undemanding woman.
Why, then, the inevitable guilt feelings
and selí-rceriminations on his part? Why
the wariness and fear of involvement, in

spite of the fact that no demands arc
made? Why the feeling of "safety"
one-night stands?

Where are the mature, red-blooded,
discriminating playboys who can ap-
preciate the honest sexuality of a mature

(Name withheld by request)
Seattle, Washington

We personally appreciate attractive
women of every age, size and shape; and
we agree that a mature miss can be
just as appealing аз a nai
whether on the arm—or in them.
usually pick young women as our Play
mates of the Month, and for similar
Playboy pictorials, simply because the
female face and figure are ordinarily
most beautiful in the late teens and
early 20s; it's a logical age, too, for the
models in a men's magazine where the
median age of the male readers is 29.

But viaynoy's predilection in photo-
graphic pulchritude doesn’t blind us to
the in-person virtues of the more mature
miss; in this, we applaud the opinion of
that respecied playboy of the past, Ben
Franklin, who discoursed so delightfully
on the advantages of amour with an
older
the Choice of a Mistress,” which ap-
peared in one of the first issues of this
publication (vLaywoy, April 1954).

Your observations on the immaturity
of the American male deserve considera-
tion, but as a reflection of your personal
rience, they may say more about
your own part in these tnsalisfactory
relationships than you realize. You in-
sist that you are a woman who asks
“nothing of an affair except honesty and
no pretense. No demands, no obligations,
mo possessiveness, no exploitation . . .”
But the severe appraisal of your erst-
while suitors (7. . . the inevitable guilt
feelings and self-recriminations . . . the
wariness and fear of involvement .. . the
feeling of ‘safety’ in one-night stands")
suggests that you may not be the un-
demanding woman you think you are.
It is possible that, in your quest for a
more meaningful, more lasting relation-
ship, you are projecting a far more pos-
image than you realize; and,
thereby, are losing likely prospects before
the affairs have any real opportunity to
become more than casual.

In your final paragraph, you ask,
“Where are the mature, red-blooded,
discriminating playboys who can appre-
ciale the honest sexuality of a mature
woman?” We're quite certain that S
tle, and surrounding West Coast en-
virons, abound with them. And if you
hadn't requested that we withhold your
name, at letter's end, you would almost
certainly have had a house full of them
а few days after this issuc went on sale.

woman in his classic “Advice on

sessive

SEX AND THE SINGLE CATHOLIC

In the installment of the
Trialogue, F as a disap-
pointing factor, almost to the point of
aggravation, To date, Father O'Connor
has added neither his viewpoints nor the
viewpoints of the Church. Rather, he
has directed antagonistic questions at
LAY BOY id Hefner
As an ui ried,
female, educated for 16 y
schools, the question of se
sus frustration and faith
great confusion and frusi

ld Catholic
rs in Catholic
and sin ver.

ion to me.
onnor seems to

to prove t ап con-
cept of se: coming apart
at the se: t from
personal observation and. numerous pub-
lished reports that the emotional and
xual situation [or young unmarricds
emely close to crisis or revoluti
1t is obvious that a definite and logical
stand should be taken by the Church on
premarital sex i to
healthy and purposeful life without the
is of withheld emo-
what are we
man beings to do? Cease
catholic for this portion of our
alous!
ately, feel
hey cannot be canned or
tunity for release
1E in the form of marriage
tity which too often is not

Isn't it

consul

perishable.
bowled until opp

presents
an oppor

sands more like me.
is it you are

Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania

A DOG'S LIFE

Since our social structure is somewhat
more complex than that of dogs, our se
ual life must be somewhat above the
sniff and hump level of the canines. This
volves so tual restrain
So long as we hur e as glandular
as wc are amd as rebellious at restraint
as we are, nothing will make money like
the exploitation of sex. You know about
that.

No responsible teacher of Chri
cthies will derogate sex. Its
Maybe we shall have to approach or ex-
perience the dog level of se gen
ation or two belove we w; ave OU
sex as responsible humans, But surely we
are not bound to your conscience
while you exploit sex for money. I hope
you sweat.

cat

L. C. Rudolph
Louis Kentucky
If you can read vLAywoy and experi-
ence the snif-and-hwnp reactions of a
dog, the problem is a personal one and
you have our sympathy.

Bacardi. Party-ing
Playboys have
stroke of genius!

oin the geniuses - turn the page!)

Great aroma. 14 choice,
fragrant tobaccos with a

touch of pure Dutch heather
honey. Extra mild Sail pipe

tobacco. Try it.

It’s from Holland.

To lovers of fine aromatic pipe tobaccos, the arom:

Th си the blending of SAIL and only Theodorus

romatie

er of Holland knows it. Smokes extra 1 because cured by a

ver pr « “Dutch Cake
your pick — Aromatic or Regular blend. Also in tins.

PLAYBOY

(Contll from previous page)

Florida playboys improve jim-dandy chart
-end fuss of mixing up to 432 Daiquiris!

DAIQUIRIS Е
(Tsp. | боз соп |

BACARDI
Silver Label

SHAKE OR STIR WITH ICE UNTIL VERY COLD

“Limeade, lemonade or Daiquiri Mix
used, substitute juice of Y» lime or

sugar for

if fresh fruit 15
mon and Ve tsp.
Substitute juice

r each 2 tsp. of concentrate;

of 9 limes or lemons and 3 tablespoons sugar for each
can of concentrate. Do not add sugar to concentrate.

Our old formula went to 216—which
seemed enough in the old days. But
Florida playboys asked the logical
question : suppose we invite twice as
many people?

So in deference to right-thinking
we publish this enlarged version of
the remarkable little formula for
mixing Daiquiris in batches! It is a

masterpiece of clarity: (1)readdown
for number of Daiquiris, (2) read
across for ingredients, (3) muster a
Bacardi Daiquiri Party!

Tip: the original Daiquiri was
made with Bacardi rum — the best
still are. Impress your friends by
pointing this out to them. You know
—sort of off-handedly.

DRINK BACAR DI, RUM — ENJOYABLE ALWAYS AND ALL WAYS

i, Fla. Rum, BO & 151 Proof.

For playboys and playmates at leisure . . .

THE NEW PLAYBOY SHIRT

For those who desire the best in casual wear, an impeccably fashioned shirt of

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^
J
ead

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medium, large, extra large.

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Send check or money order to:

PLAYBOY PRODUCTS

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

DOWNFALL OF CIVILIZATION

Withont a doubt. the leners in the
April Forum were the most disgusting in
recent months. “Those perverted minds
who write advocating freer sex and sex
without marria Ameri
caus for sex and debauched
fiends. 1t also seems quite obvious that
the editors of rLAvsoY arc just as per-
verted as those asinine individuals. This
sexual revolution, which is cagerly
awaited by those debased minds, is an
insult to all Americans. At a time in our
history when we should be a
the apex of our growth, w
reduced to the low sexual level that
the Romans experienced before their
decline.

ex
c must take all

maniacs

pproachin

re be

Steve Molewski
Fredonia, New York
Contrary to popular folklore, perpetu-
ated by our neopuritan culture, sexual
promiscuity was not the cause of the de-
cline and fall of the Roman Empire—or
the destruction of any civilization in
recorded history, for that matter. If sex-
ual excesses could cause the downfall of
nations, England would never have sur
the
bawdy in the extreme: instead, the reign
of Queen Elizabeth ushered in England's
greatest period of vitality and growth—
the eva of Shakespeare and Bacon, Chris-
topher Marlowe and Sir Isaac Newton.
There is, in fact, a remarkable corre-
lation between the more sexually permis-
sive periods of Western civilization and
those noted for the greatest social, cul-
tual and scientific progres—inctuding
the pre-Christian societies o| Greece and
Rome, the Renaissance, the Elizabethan
era and the Restoration; there is a simi-
lay correlation between periods of sexual
suppression and the most backward. cul-
tually barren, superstitions, antiscien
ufi, anti-intellectual, and
politically authoritarian times—includ-
ing the aptly titled Dark Ages, medieval
Europe, with the witchcraft trials and
the Inquisition, the Counter Reforma-
поп, Puritan England and the Vicionan
ета. The whole history of Western civili
sation supports а the
opposite of yours: With an American
naissance we would expect to [ind
exactly the soit of more permisive sex
morality that is now evolving fiom the
sexual revolution

vived zabethan era, which was

religiously

conclusion just

ORDERLY SEX LAWS

No maner what we say about the
proentday rape and carnal-knowledge
stitutes, they are better than they once
» England. Rape w
law felony that was originally a capital
olfense, which in medieval England (as
lue as 1650) meant beheading and/or
hanging, drawing and quartering. Dur
ing one period the usual punishment

were

s à common

was castration, often coupled with blind-
ing. Compared to the punishments met-
ed out in Starr Chamber, anything that
wa is

Rew
out ag;
man Conquest and before. Sim
have been found the carly code of
Justinian. Las Siete Partidas (circa 1256),
and Lex Romana Visigothorum. (circa
506).

No matter what you say, our laws are
designed for an orderly society. They are
designed to protect the greatest. possible
number without interfering with the
freedom of the majority.

Richard L. Hacı
Dallas, Texas

To argue that contemporary U. S. sex
laws are an improvement over their
medieval equivalents is surely to damn
them with faint praise, for in no other
area of AngloAmerican jurisprudence
are the prejudices and superstitions of
the Middle Ages still s0 prevalent. As
you point out, rape was a capital offense
under early English common law; what
you fail to mention, however, is that
rape can still mean the death penalty
right here in America, in 15 states and
the District of Columbia, with a maxi
mum sentence of life imprisonment in 16
тоте. And the contemporary penalties
for "statutory. rape” —where the female
participates in a sexual act willingly, but
she is under the state-prescribed age of
similarly severe: 15 state
statutes establish a maximum sentence
of life, and 15 others, death.

Society needs suitable legislation. cov-
ering rape and statutory таре, as а pro-
lection against unwelcome acts of sexual
aggression and to supply a special safe-
guard for children; but the severity of
the penalty ought to be yelated to the
seriousness of the offense these
savage statutes are obviously based on
the belief that chastity is as precious as
lije itself.

Most other U.S. sex laws make cuen
less sense and serve little or no purpose
in our pluralistic, secular society. These
laws represent nothing more than an at-
tempt to enforce a single concept of ve
ligious sex morality upon an otherwise
free people through governmental edict;
and, as such, these statutes are incom-
patible with the Constitution and the
most basic principles of American
democracy.

mber th
st h

issler

conseni—arc

and

SEXUAL TOLERANCE

1 enjoy reading The Playboy Philoso-
phy and agree with most of it. There is,
however, one point that has lately con-
fused me. You state in The Playboy Ad-
visor of the April 1965 issue that your
"broad vicws on sexual matters do
include the advocacy of homosexuality.

Yet you do advocate, or at least take a
neutral corner concerning, other so-
called sexual perversions. Could you
please explain why your attitude toward
homosexuality differs from, Jet's say,
masturbation. That is, wl your basis
of approving of, or disapproving of, any
sexual act?

William B. Russell
Kent, Ohio
There is a great deal of difference be-
tween advocating something and “taking
a neutral corner" on il. We a
freedom of the individual, and we feel
that any sex act between consenting
adults is no опе else's business.

RELIGIOUS LEADERSHIP

а spe uuctor, for

cight years, of a ministerial psychiatric
icntation. course for a graduate school

of theology. I have also been medical di-

rector of а large mental hospital for the

ion for the Ad-

our dilemma.
aled The Social Cri-
teria, they proposed recommendations
that any sexnal activity that presents no
immediate harm io society should not
then be the concern of society. For ex-
They felt rape was certainly
society's responsibility, but they felt ho-
mosexuality between adults, with con-
sem, none of society's business,
Thus, each individual decides whar is
normal for him, and only when this be-
1 adversely and directly involves
society does it become wrong and only
then docs society establish a penalty.
The Playboy Philosophy. in the main,
appears to be based on this criterion, as
is my philosophy.

LAYBOY appears to be attracting a fol-
lowing of intellectuals of adequate mag-
nitude to shaki ions of
outdated theological m.

the best code av
In a docum

was

vior

the very founda
codes. The
theologians must be pressured out of
their lethargy in this explosive period of
history. They cannot continue 10 ignore
the needs of the individual on the basis
r own need to dominate and con-
through de moral codes
which make of us all. More and
more people in our auent society are
making their own moral judgments.
Theology is desperately lacking in realis-
tic moral leadership. No theologian, to
my knowledge. has yet emerged from the
ranks to fulfill this role of moral leader-
ship. Perhaps an indirect effect of The
Playboy Philosophy movement will be to
spire the rise of a theologian who will
help solve uus religious dilemma in our
new aflluent culture. Outstanding lead-
ers are usually produced when pressure

man-m

the editors of
ed open conflict

пег and

PLAYBOY have now decl.

with hallowed religious concepts, you
will also be required to share an ever-in-
creasing responsibility for your actions.
More and more burdens will be shifted
onto your shoulders. Direct responsibil-
ity in the moral and ethical domains will
become your lot, not your indirect re-
sponsibility as in the past. Let us hope
you are capable of meeting this new role
of leadership with maturity.

In the most importam statement of
the round tabie, Hefner implied. but the
others ignored, the impor
Knowledge. Scientific facts of
known. Their application cre:
conflicts. Man's only hope of cnlight
ened salvation is in the expression of
these facts within an acceptable. frame-
work of realistic moral codes. Man and
society will both benefit when this phi-
losophy becomes a reality. Then, and
only then, will man and woman's sexual
personality be developed. as is their vo-
personality and their social
personality.

I sincerely hope. as you go forward,
that your goals will be constructive and
you will show basic responsibility to
your philosophy. If so, your personal
prestige and economic gains will come
greater abundance—ves, even exceed
your wildest dreams. Í wish you well in
your new role as a moral be

George W.
Wooster, Ohio

SEX AND THE CHURCH
As a clergyman, I would

e to make
a few predictions which I feel represent

attitude of the
nd the

both the possible fut
Church toward sexual morals,
desirable future attitudes. Naturally, ГИ
ask that you not publish mv name or
location, as the Church’s present attitude
is not quite receptive t0 these in
short, ГА be in trouble up to my clerical
collar.

I feel that, as Mr. Hefner h
quately demonsirared in The Playboy
Philosophy, the churches are laboring
today under a seriously antiquated code
of sexual morals; not only antiquated, in
fact, but unrealistic—-from a psychologi

ade-

cal and physical point of view—and u
theological from a scriptural point of
view.

As the Church discovers that St. Paul
could conceivably bear revision with re-

gard to his moral teaching (as opposed
to his theological teaching), it will con-
tinue to drift to a more defensible pos
tion with regard to sexual morals I
think we will hear the Church begint
10 admit that there are various
proaches to sex, all of them proper,
of them different, and each calling for a
moral interpretation of its own. Mar
age will be seen, not as a lega
str
begin, but as a seal upon a sexual re-

hip. Marriage will continue to be

mentation allowing sexual act

lation

PLAYBOY

violable because of the
theological significance it bears for the
Christi physical sign in the flesh
of Christ's union with his Church. Mar-
e will be regarded as necessary where
children are concerned, for the child
needs, and deserves, a home which
stable and is cemented by marriage.

regarded as

the significance o[ sin against thc holi-
ness of God. and the significance of sin
against one’s fellow man. Marriage will,
in short, be regarded for what it is.

Sex will also be regarded for what it is
—an activity given by God for the propa
gation of the human race. As such it is
Tor marriage relationships alone. It is
also, however, an expression of physical
d emotional need, which can and
should be engaged in where the need to
demonstrate affection and emotion are
clearly felt and. understood.

Premarital sex was outlawed by Scrip-
ture, and by the Church until the
present day. because there was always
the possibility of premarital pregnancy,
of children being born unwanted and
rejected, The development of adequate
contraceptives has made it possible for
careful persons to elimin danger,
and thus has removed the moral obliga-
tion upon unmarried persons to refrain

метсошҳе.

4s also outlawed by
pture because it was too characteristic
of the pagan religions which surrounded
the birth and growth of Christianity,
d had connotations for most people
of pagan ritual worship. Obviously, that
threat no longer exists, Our modern pa-
gan religions, at least the ones that
threaten Christianity, are more “Chris
tian” than Christianity as far as sex is
concerned. Mohammedanism certainly
does uot regard sex as free, and com-
»unism, the other igion threat-
ening Christiani! totally amoral
view of sex, and prefer-
ably state-controlled function.

The Church can aflord to take a new
view of sexual morals. She can teach
freely what the real significance of n
is. releasing it from the prim
sexual signific
sex-taboo system. She

the truth about sex, and can gu:
guide youth in their sexual develop-
ment. With this proper understanding

of sex, rriages will be entered into
more sei urge 10 get
married for the sake of sexual edom

will be eliminated), and the divorce
will drop pre
in its sanctity and
full significance.

Irs coming. Slowly, true, but one
see even now the mov
tion in th
day when it comes! 1 trust th
you publish this letter, you will gı
both nominal and geographical anonym-

ity for the time being. Perhaps some day
the future, I can write to you again
and sign my name as a pastor in a
Church that has grown up morally.
(Lutheran. pastor
name and address
withheld by request)

VERBAL HOMICIDE

What a bore this long-winded discus-
sion! The only real threat to pleasure-
ful sex is that it may well be talked to
death,

R.W.
The First Congre
Petersham, Massachusetts

INTELLECTUAL TREASON

Theology has created. the guilt, fear
and shame attached to sex. To wipe out
these emotions would wipe out the hold
ion has on human beings. This is all
the theologians fear in Hefner.
ot accept а guilt or shame
that is rightfully theirs.

Morality and ethics have been carc-
lessly abandoned to the religious, putting
morals and ethics in the most irrational
hands in sight. Those who profess a be-
lif in the unknown, the unreal, the
hallucinatory, are laying down the rules
for the known, the real, the things we
can pa only while conscious,
in complete charge of our
faculties. Stupid, isn't i

Morality and ethics belong in the
hands of the intellectuals: the scientist
(the known); the producer (the real): the
thinker (the nonhallucinatory), Our in-
tellectuals have performed an аа of
mental trcason by relinquishing arcas in
which they are best equipped to act. As
a producer and a thinker, it is most im-
portant that Hefner does not join them,

‘The sex drive is as natural to human
heings as other physical functions. We
lost our way when we divorced sex from

without purpose. Those who do so pay
the price m health of mind and body.
Our sexuality should be used in the
same direct manner, making use of dis-
crimination and. purpose. Any man who
refers to sex as evi
consider for himself the dirty results, He
propagates the impure connotations of
the word to justify his own existence.
Ayn Rand has said it all, and much too
well to be ignored so purposefully by so
many. To quote from a Playboy Inter-
view with Miss Rand: "Promiscuity is
wrong: is evil, but be-

or vice deserves to

Catherine Fleming
Las Vegas, Nevada

UNHOLY ALLIANCE

Sexual mores have not always been
formulated by religious institutions or
beliefs, More often, religion has simply

reflected the mores of the group, and h

given these mores establishment and sac-
Tamem

Being aware of this, and, as
3 that Hefner is also aware of it, 1
m why you seem to be
uying to involve religious leaders in
your “crusade.” Finally 1 came to the
conclusion that you had decided to gain
the support of organized religion as the
next logical step in promoting The Play-
boy Philosophy. Which prompis me to

olfer a word of caution. You may ham-
per the progres of a real sexual revolu-
tion by a too-rcady alliance with religion,

for, surely, this revolution should not be
hampered by compromise.

If, however, you are secking to influ-
ence and liberalize religious attitudes
pplaud you. Much of
m needs a new vicw-
point liberal clergy can use
your support in their efforts to relate re-
ligion more closely to life as it really is

Marlboro, Massachusetts
Hefner isn't intentionally trying to m-
volve religious leaders, or anyone else, in
any kind of crusade. He is simply call-
ing the shots as he sees them, in “The
Playboy Philosophy,” in the hope that he
can contribute something worth while to
the social and sexual revolution now ta
ing place in America. The revolution is
having ils effect on both the secular and
religious sides of society and we welcome
the increasing number of clergymen who
ате writing their opinions lo “The Play-
boy Forum.

NETWORK CENSORSHIP

Being a devoted supporter of
erties, 1 recently dashed off a lei
the National Broadcasting Company,
protesting their policy of censoring line-
night network programs. As you are well
ware, NBC has become quite generous
in their use of thc scisors on ce
sound tracks. The network app
know exactly what is and what
proper for the multitude to
"They are plucking oui
"Cod," "hell" or "damn" from the audio
portion of the Tonight and Jack Paar
shows. This is a very odd. practice when
you consider that even an cight-yearold
child can interpolate the missing word.
Consequently, this petty censorship
serves only to disrupt the performance

s not
absorb.
words such as

and boil the blood o[ the viewer.

d the following
cise in how to

Surprisingly, I rece
reply, а well
apologize in
without budging an

Dear Mr. Ziperstei
We are well aware of the fact that
“hells” and "damns
themselves profane. As a m
fact, careful invest

this some y igo persuaded
(continued on page 121)

inen exer

vague and sincere manner
ach

are

not in

our

Playhoy Club News

CLUBS INTERNATIONAL INC.
NGUISHED CLUBS IN MAJOR CITIES

SPECIAL EDITION ApS yor

ONE PLAYBOY CHER KEY
TO ALL PLAYBOY CLUBS

JULY 1965

` SAN FRANCISCO
AND BOSTON SET
10 SWING IN FALL

Francisco Playboy Club, the sec-
ond on the West Coast (the L.A.
Club opened New Year’s Day),
boast five levels of club-
rooms with two showrooms—
Penthouse and Playroom — to
make it the brightest night spot
in town, A unique rock garden
and whimsical Cartoon Corner
are two of the Club's special
features. The site is at the foot
of famous Telegraph Hil

Bostoniens will be greeted
апа pampered by 35 of our love-
liest Bunnies in Playboy's many
clubrcoms—Penthouse and Play-
room showrooms, Living Room
with fireplace and swinging
Piano Bar and convivial Play-
mate Bar with its bumper-pool
table. Keyholders will conven-
iently park their cars beneath
Boston Common, just across from
our easternmost Bunny hutch.

Mail the coupon below for
your $25 Charter Key, good in
Boston. San Francisco and all
Club areas.

m `

Bunny Bonnie serves keyholders
tall, refreshing beverages in
Playboy's air-conditioned comfort,

PLAYBOY CLUB LOCATIONS

Clubs Open — Atlanta Dinkler
Motor Hotel: Baltimore 28 Light
St; Chicago 116 E. Walton St;
Cincinnati 35 E. 7th St; Detroit
10H E. Jefferson Ave.: Jamaica on
Bunny Bay. Ocho Rios: Kansas
City atop the Hotel Continental;
Los Angeles #560 Sunset Blvd.:
Miami 7701 Biscayne Blvd.: New
Orleans 727 Rue Iberville; New
иһ St.; Phoenix 3033
t. Louis 3914 Lindell.

Locations Set—Boston 51 Park
Square; London 45 Park Lane; San
Franciaco a6 Montgomery Street.

Nextin Line Washington, D.C.

Use Your Playboy Key
in 16 Cities This Year—
critcaco Grn sm Apply Now to Save $25

Guests applaud Bunny Chorus Line finale at the Jamaica Playboy

lub-

Hotel. American and island entertainers appear on the Playroom stage.

CHICAGO (Special)—Three
more links in the ever-expand-
ing Playboy Club chain make
your key more valuable than
ever. By the end of the ycar you
will be able to entertain clients
and friends in 14 U.S. cities, at
our Jamaica Bunnyland and in
London at our first European
Playboy location. (For all Club
locations sce box on this page.)

Boston's Playboy premieres
this fall at 54 Park Square just
opposite historical Boston Com-
mon, San Francisco's $1,500,000
Playboy Club debuts later this
fall at 736 Montgomery Street,
in the heart of the city’s fun
center. For details about Boston
and San Francisco, see separate
story on this page.

By ordering your key today,
you take advantage of the $25
Charter Rate that applies in new
Club arcas before the $50 Resi-
dent Key Fee goes into effect.
Once a Playboy Club opens, it
has been the practice to raise
the key fee to 550 (over 10,000
residents of Chicago, Florida and
Arizona have paid the $50 fee).

In every Playboy Club beau-
tiful Bunnies greet you and
direct you through the Playboy
world, a world of entertainment
tailored to your liking. When
you present your personal silver
key to the Door Bunny (she may
be a Playmate of the Month
from the gatefold of PLAYBOY),
your name plate will be posted

on the Lobby board while closed-
circuit TV telecasts your arrival
throughout the Club.

The complete range of Playboy
entertainment allows you to
spend an evening on the town
without ever leaving the Club.
The showrooms offer an entirely
new show every two weeks. Jazz
groups play nightly in the Liv-
ing Room, famous for its cor-
nucopian buffet,

The showrooms feature
Playboy's filet mignon and New
York—cut 8-oz. sirloin steak. The
L.A. Penthouse also features the
chef's distinctive Chicken Kiev.
All these tantalizing specialties
are yours for the same price as
a drink. And Playboy's man
sized drink (an ounce and a
half of your favorite brand)
is known from Coast to Coast

LUNCHEON AT THE
PLAYBOY CLUB—
COOL DIVERSION

CHICAGO (Special)—Keyhold-
ers and playmates are keeping
cool this summer by lunching at
the Club, Bunnies serve tall re-
freshing drinks as you choose a
Playboy favorite from the Liv-
ing Room buffet for the same
price as a drink—orly $1.50. Two
different entrees are offered each
day from the buffet, plus fork-
tender filet mignon in Playboy's
Penthouse or hearty London
broil from the Playmate Bar
Chuckwagon (both in some
Clubs). Now you can lunch at the
Club 12 times in a row without
having the same entree twice!
And where else in town can you
enjoy filet mignon for only
51.502 New menus are in effect
at all Clubs July 5 (in Miami
and Phoenix from June 7).

Choose from delectable selection
ot summer appetite pleasers at the

new Li

ng Room luncheon buffet.

[C — BECOME A KEYHOLDER/ CLIP AND MAIL THIS APPLICATION TODAY — —

| Te: PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL

Key Fee is $25 except within ә 75-те radius of Chicago and in Arizona and Florida
where keys are $50. (Key fee includes $1 for year's subscription to vir, the Club

mekoaned
O Enclosed find 3.

C вц тето а.

Gentlemen:

| Here ту application tor key privileges to The Playboy Club. 1

C) 1 wash only information about The Playboy Club.

Eee‏ س ا

PLAYBOY

Suggested retail price POE plus state and/or local tases. Slightly higher in West. SCCA-approved competition equipment available, Look for dealer in Yellow Pages. Overseas
delivery available. Stonderd-Teiumph Motor Co., Inc., 575 Madison Ave., N.Y., N.Y. 10022. Canada : Standard-Teiumph (Canada) Lid., 1463 Eglinton Avenue W., Toronto 10, Ont.

Triumph Spitfire Mk 2 is made for swingers. Dig?

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Triumph Spitfire Mk 2

umor eww: MARCELLO MASTROIANNI

a candid conversation with italys urbane star of international cinema

For 35 of his 40 years, Marcello Ma-
stroianni was a name virtually unknown
(and certainly unpronounced) outside of
Haly, where he had earned something of
а reputation as û promising actor on the
Roman stage, and as a competent, if un-
sensational, second lead in thivd-vate
Malian movies. Then, in 1960, [Im maker
Fedenco Fellini decided that Mastroian-
nis rather dissipated good looks and
worldly ways would be perfect for the
part of a sensitive but weak-willed Ro
man journalist who ends up а member
of the decadent café society he sets out
to sensationalize in print. Fellini was
night. The picture was “La Dolce Vila,”
and it made Mastroianni, in his 45th
film, а major matinee idol almost over-
night.

Though still. tonguctwistingly yclept
(Marchello | Malvstro-yalenec), he has
since gone onward and upward, in а
succession o| versatile variations on the
laconic-Latin-lover rale, to become one
of international filmdom’s reigning male
sex symbols, and to sel a singular new
style in movie stars—the nonheroic hero,
a hind of modern intellectual Everyman.
Consummately portraying such tortured
contemporary types аз а
author tin “La Notte"), a
husband (in “Divorce—Italian

world-weary
cuckolded
Style”)

and a cynical, soul-searching movie di-

rector (in 14), he has come to epito-
mize for many “the plight of modern
man himself." in the words of one critic,
“loveless, faithless, rudderless, spiritually

“I like to have a woman hang on, but not
10 suffocate me. She needs some kind of
occupation, and it's right for her to be
on man’s level. My logic admits this,
bul my instincts tell me lo watch out.”

anesthetized and immobilized, whirled
along in the swift and shifting crosscur-
rents and powerless to influence or arrest
the order of events; incapable either of
disciplining his desires or of satisfying
his needs, let alone those of his fellow
man.” Despite—or perhaps because of—
his ambivalent image of inward impo
tence and predatory potency, Mastroian:
ni exudes a charismatic magnetism (hai
seems to bring out the maternal, as well
as the mating, instinct in а vast interna-
tional following of female fans who sec
him as both son and lover; both as a
helpless, all-ioo-human little boy and as
a suave, self-assured man of the world.

Nol surprisingly, in view of the re-
markable verisimilitude with which he
manages to invest his movie voles, the
resemblance between the real-life Ma
stroianni and his veet-life counterpart is
far more than skin-deep. It was in the
hope of illuminating both that we called
an the actor at his home in Rome with
our request for an exclusroc interview.
Having heard that he is far from fond of
being bultonholed by journalists, we
were prepared for the unconcealed disin
clination he displayed at fra. “Why
should your readers care what Ma-
stroianni thinks?” he asked. We assured
him that they would; but he was still
evasive and noncommitial. After a few
more days of telephonic pursuit, howrv-
er, he finally consented to see us on the
sel of his new picture, "Casanova. 70"
(in which he plays a latter-day Lothario

- Л

“I am looking for myself im my roles.
There is this synthesis between the roles
and the real me, as if I'm trying myself
out in them. Wha knows which is more an-
thentic? Fach one seems so at the time.”

afflicted with impotence which he can
overcome only by staging his seductions
where there's an imminent danger of
discovery).

We began our conversations on the
spol, speaking in Italian. After an hour,
^ were just gelling warmed up, so our
continued оп and off for the next
the set; in his downtown
apartment, where we met his wife of 17
years and their teenage daughter; at his
lavish new home, still under construc-
tion, on the outskirts of the city, where
we sal on the lawn amid a clutter of
statuary and antique mosaics which he
couldn't decide where to pul; and on a
stroll down the cobbled side
streets of old Rome, with periodic stop-
offs for espresso, and a plate of pasta
at the Cafe Rosati, a venerable artists"
and writers’ hangout on the Piazza del
Popolo,

We found him to be a fascinating sub-
ject: urbane, ironic, articulate, introspec-
five, insightful, outwardly serene but
charged with a banked intensity, seem-
ingly suffused with ennui yet somehow
still boyishly disarming. Like the charac-
ters he so often plays, he is a complex,
enigmatic and paradoxical man.

tai
wee

—on

meandeiin,

PLAYBOY: For [our years you've been con-
sidered the biggest and һем male star
in Europe, and a major box-office attri
tion around the world. How do you ac-
count for your change of fortune, after
more than a decade in minor roles?

"Sophia has a [emininity, a maternal
sense, that is ancient in women, a moral
strength that makes her fascinating. She's
the only actress I've been tied to out of
affection for more than ten years.”

PLAYBOY

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MASTROIANNI: I was lucky enough to
get a film that had a meaning to me
personally—Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. The
public also liked it, which naturally
pleased me. But I was concerned first
with myself. I looked in the mirror one
morning and said: "You have only so
many good years left. From now on ou
you do only parts that involve you pe
have meaning in your life
and the lives of the people around yo
Since then its be boom.

PLAYBOY: When you speak of personal
involvement in your parts, do you mean

that they're autobiographical in a sense,
that you're actually like the characters
you played in La Doke Vita and fii

MASTROIANNI: Yes. I did those two Fel-
lini films not as an actor but as a
man. I took part because 1 needed, as a
man, to realize myself through them.
They are the best mirror of my real self.
Its not that 1 play myself. actually. but
ther more that 1 am looking for m;
self in the roles. There is this synthesis
between the roles and the real meas if
Im vying myself out in them. Who
knows which one is more authentic?
h one scems so at the timc.
PLAYBOY: All the films you've made, i
one way or another, are about weak men

sex-

potent. Is tl
MASTROIANNI: Ves a
ad I think it

ile as he used до be. Insiead of making
things happen, he waits for things 10
happen to him. He goes with the cur-
rent. Something in our society has led
him to stop fighting, to cease swimming
upstream,
PLAYBOY:
MASTROIANNI:
Doubt about his place in society
purpose in life. In my county, for exam
ple, 1 was brought up with the thought
of man as the padrone, the pillar of the
family. I wanted to be a loving, caring,
protective man. But now I feel lost; the
sensitive man everywhere. feels lost. He
is no longer. padrone—cither of his own
world or of his women.
PLAYBOY: Why noi?
MASTROIANNI: Bei зе women are chang-
ing into and men are becom
g women. At least, men are getting
iker all the time. But much of this is
man's own fault. We shouted, “Wome:
аге equal to men: long live the Consti
tution!” But look what happened. The
ing woman emer v. aggres-
uncertain of her y And
she multiplied —almost by herself. Matri-
archy, in the home and in the factory and.
in business, has made women into sexless
monsters and. piled them up on psychi-
atric couches. Instead. of finding them-
selves, they lost what they had. But some
see this now and are tying to change

What is that something?
Doubt, for

опе thing.
his

men,

back. Women in England, for example.
who were the first to raise the standard of
equality, are today in теген.
PLAYBOY: How n women
MASTROIANNI: They should retreat, but
they don't. I've never seen so many ш
happy, melancholy women, They have
liberty—but they are desperate. Poor
lings, they're so hungry for romance
that two Пие words in th ears
enough to crumble them befor
eyes. American women are beautiful, but
a lite cold and too perfect—too well
brought up, with the perfume and the
hair always just so and the rose-colored
skin. What perfection—and what a
bore! Believe me, it makes you want to
have a girl with a mustache, cross-eyes
and runs in her stockings. I got to know
few of them when I was there, but I
r it was like knowing only one
woman. Geraldine Page was the only e
ception—and an exciting onc.
PLAYBOY: Are lalian women different?
MASTROIANNI: Tha Od, yes.
PLAYBOY: In wh:
MASTROIANNI: Their smell, for one thing.
PLAYBOY: Their
MASTROIANNI: Ye: body frag
‘ow, Fm not playing my role as
here, but I believe Fd be able to tell
Italian woman from any other
even the dark, just by her natural
fragrance. It's a sort of homespun odor.
I love it.
PLAYBOY:
how i:
women?
MASTROIANNI: She's
a woman—not yet, anyway. But what
happened to women in America is be-
ginning to take place in Italy. too, and 1
don't like it. I don" feel tenderness 10-
ward th kind of women. I
wouldn't even want to h children by
them. 1 want women to have all the
faults and weaknesses they always had. 1
adore them, but we must keep them in
their place. It's presumptuous lor a wom-
an to show me she is a doctor of math-
Comptometers сап do that.
more subtle and dillicult is to
know how to make a man feel important
PLAYBOY: You don't th have
the right to a career, to compete with
in the professional world?
MASTROIANNI: OF course, they muat
evolye—but not away from being wom-
en. At the same time, I admit we have to
do something with them besides give
them babies. In Italy, women now have
fewer children and do less housework
than ever, This makes them bored
terrible weight on men. Now, I like 10
have а woman hang on—but mot to
suffocate me. So today she needs some
kind of occupation, and it’s right for her
10 want to be on man's level. My logic
s this—but my instincts tell me to
A man like myself fears this

your

swe:

smell?

nce.
lover

her
from

Apart from frag

she different

not afraid to be

new

k wome

RELAX A WHILE...
With PLAYBOY As Your Guide

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B. Playboy Golf Putter, Code No. M48, $22.

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All prices postpaid

PLAYBOY
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"contemporary woman.” She is conquer-
ng something important, and her cvolu-
tion is exciting. But man is conquering
пасей, he's losing his power,
even his intelligence.
PLAYBOY: Are you saying this is true
of all men, or just Italian men—or per-
haps only yourself?

MASTROIANNI: Well, so much depends
a the emotional climate in which
you were raised. You're American, I
speak of myself and my own country—an
old county. I remember my grandfa-
He lived to be 90, 1 used 10 watch
nd admire his authority, Where
all that gone? Whats happened to
d of man? Whatever it was that
buried him, it took with it a whole ci
whole way of life. It left women doing
some of the things he did; and thi
causes me deep anxiety. But perhaps this
is an era in which we all feel lost—a per
od of transition where the only thing
that keeps man going is habit. But here
in, women have the advantage. They
ve in love, and we men don't even
ve in that iymore. Опсе men
dueled over women, grand dukes fell at
the feet of ballerinas and whole armies
sed them. But when a man chases a
п today, we say: "What Inck—he
can still run.” We seem to have forgot-
ten that love can be a most extraord
nary support for a man. A man in love is
master of the world. Even though love
costs him pain, it's a marvelous kind of
sullering.

PLAYBOY: Docs it have to cause suffering?
MASTROIANNI: Yes. And it almost always
ends the same: with disenchantment.
The exception is rare, rare.

PLAYBOY: Still, your friends say that
you fall in love easily.

MASTROIANNI: Thats truc—but only
on the level of fantasy. In my imagi
tion, I work myself up to a fantastic and
sublime passion for а woman. Then I go
out with her. But since Гуе created such
n extraordinary love in my mind—
which isn't real and exists only within
mysell—] soon realize she isn't excep-
ional afier all. Then I get tired and go
lool other one, You under-
stand always felt I lacked the cipa-

ining too much.

What's ironic is that the same thing
works in reverse. Say a woman meets me
and finds me attractive. She imagines me
to be like my screen image—the great
lover. But Um not а lover type, not in
the conventional sense, anyway. There's
no erotic charge in те, In any case. I
ı't assure a woman that ГЇЇ be able to
give her what she wants, because what
she wants—whatever it is—isn't really me.
PLAYBOY: H. ny woman ever really
understood you?

MASTROIANNI: No, never. But as I was
saying, just because you're a famous
movie star, women think you must be a
passionate and tireless lover—especially
if you're Italian. ‘The demands are terri-
ble. Not even a superman could meet
them. [ wish women would like me in
that context which most resembles mc.
I've always tried to do screen roles that
weren't for studs or bulls. You've seen
the films I've made: Hell’ Antonio, La
Dolce Vila, Sys. None of the prot
nists is a big lover who can take a wom-
| in a room for a night and make
endless love, wham-bam behind a door.
I think the men in my films are much
more normal, even though they poses—
what—a certain confusion. And I've al-
ways sought roles that weren't domineer-
ing over wor Im just not that type
PLAYBOY: Yet one critic has called you
“the Clark Gable of the Sixtics." Do you
think the tide fits?

MASTROIANNI: If anything, Pm the anti
sable. He was the type of hero who
was popular yesterday. Gable and others,
like Gary Cooper, played strong, clean
men, full of virtue and honesty. They
were decisive and sol d knew where
they were going. Or they lived in a
world which presumed that a heman al-
ways knew where he was going. But to
day we don’t know where we're going.
As I explained before, the system of vir-
tues and morals used by our fathers just
docsn't work anymore. It ceased worki

some time ago, but now we admi it
openly. We admit our weakness, or at
least our confusion. As Antonioni said

"Who's a hero under the atom bomb?
Or who isn’t one?” So in my roles Т re
veal that I am simply human; this
confession of the human condition is th
difference between myself and Gable. In
this sense, I play myself. He played a
myth—a myth that was credible yester-
day but 1 think not today. If Gable were
to begin again with the same image, 1
doubt he would become King Gable.
PLAYBOY: Alberto Moravia has com
ared you to Dino, the protagonist of
novel The Empty Canvas. He says
you both epitomize “the neocapitalist
hero, alienated from himself and his so-
ciety.” Do you [eel this is true?
MASTROIANNI: In many ways, yes. But
I don't think Fm any kind of he
neocapitalist or otherwise. If anything. 1
am an antihero or at the most а non-
hero. Time said 1 had the frightened,
characteristically 20h Century lool
with a spine made of plastic nap
d ihis—because modern

father, but I can't help comp.
sell to him. He was a hero to me

ing my-
na

1 try to be like him, but irs no use.
farm at Lucca, where the mod-
ern world has not yer changed the order
of things. There 1 put on a velour jacket
like they used to wear, and the servan
say “Buon giorno, Padrone.” | kid myself
o d g Pm the man my grand-
father was. I put on the clothes

play. L act at being a man. The
gives п se of belonging to the past

h more real to mc

n die pres
PLAYBOY: Why?

MASTROIANNI: It gives me strength
or at least an illusion of strength. T go
through certiin periods in my life when
I am nourished mainly by memories.
During recent years I have felt an in-
creasing desire 10 go d. to
plunge myself into my infancy. Every
other day 1 go to sec my mother, and
mes I even sleep in her home, It's
iot just seeing my mother: Its a drive to
return to the past, as though а man such
as myself, dedicated to remembrance of
dreams, could love only two things really
well: his own mother and his children—
the past and the future. The present is
something vou flee through as quickly as
possible. So whatever images 1 cling to
I'm not a hero—on or off the screen
happens to 1

ve come

But the nonheroic hero is
certainly nothing new in films, is he?
MASTROIANNI: Isnt he?

PLAYBO Wouldn't you call Charlie
Chaplin a classic example of this type?
MASTROIANNI: No, because he wasn't a
hero but a character. comedian, even
though he was a leading man. Charlot
was the front runner of the nonheroes,
who have since become a common tribe.
We follow, without any of his genius,
nd not always laughing. Today the
publie prefers the noncomi
just as they prefer the imperfect beauty
of some of their new heroines—Jeanne
Moreau, for example.

PLAYBOY: Do you fnd her ‘kind of
beauty attractive?

MASIROIANNI: Very much. Moreau
fragile, desperate woman—but strong
at the same ne, because she's a real
1 of her. She's stupendous

al nonhero,

woman, Iso

where it counts—jeala
dulgent. She lives and lets live, without
confusing love and eternity. She's one of
the few women J know who would be
worth falling in love with. lt doesn't
matter if she doesn’t have perfect beau
; she’s beautiful all the same. Have

lenvanding, in

you seen the bags under her eyes?
PLAYBOY: Like yours.
+

MASTROIANNI
ty bewe
PLAYBOY: Do you find
equally attractive?

MASIROIANNI: No. She's also very much
a woman, but she hasn't Jeanne's des-
peration. She has a fer у, a ma

s. Maybe there's an
our two

atures,
ophia Loren

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PLAYBOY

ternal sense, that is ancient in woman
but rare to find today. She has a force
one can find in ones own mother, a
moral strength that makes her fascina
ing. Pd say Sophia is а type of woman
that in a short while will no longer exist,
while Jeanne is of today. I feel attracted
to both of them-—but in different ways,
PLAYBOY: To Soph mother im-
age and to Jeanne as a lover?
MASTROIANNI; To Sophia as
Ive taken her lo my mother's
many times. She's the only actress I've
been tied to out of affection for nw
than years. In the movie world,
long time.

PLAYBOY: Arc there any oder actress.
es you admire?

NASTROIANNI: Gr Garbo. I met
her on a recent trip to New York. She
invited me to visit her in her apartment.
I suppose she was curious about me. She
is a very sympathetic and extraordinary
woman. We talked through an interpret’
er. The only thing 1 understood directly
was when she looked at my shoes and
said: "Ah, Italian shoes—beautiful.” I
was very embarrassed, because they were
English. not Italian. But to make her
happy 1 sid "Yes."

friend.
home

ten

PLAYBOY: What else did you talk
about?

MASTROIANNI.: Our conversation was
broken off by a harcbraincd American

woman who said to Garbo, “I saw you in
films. How beautiful you were in your
epoch.” This made Garbo so angr
she got up cas right to do
it. That woman should never have said
that. H she didn’t understand ıl much
about Garbo, she stupid. An hour
later Garbo phoned me at a cock
ty to say she was sorry to have left that
way, and that she liked meeting me. I
nderstand her. She feels very alone,
nd all afraid of
people and crowds.

PLAYBOY: As onc who's been mobbed
more than once by female fans, do you
feel that way yourself?
MASTROIANNI: Well, most of that
just publicity. Fm not actually assaulted
by women, especially in Italy. There
have been a few hysterical mobs, of
course. But mobs generate their own hys-
teria, and it doesn't really have anything
10 do with the target of their frenz
PLAYBOY: You didn't say whether you
like it or not.

MASTROIANNI: Of course I don't like it.
PLAYBOY: Isn't public recognition one
of the reasons you became an actor?
MASTROIANNI: Not (hat kind of rec
ognition. Not even applause, or the
praise of my peers. No, І became an ac-
tor because il exalted me, even as a
child. There is no joy quite so fulfilling,
so exhilarating as the extraordinary
emotion one feels when performing. It’s
to the thrill you get with a wom-
Nothing else can compare with it.
Normally—and I think most actors are

her life she’s been

don't feel complete except
when acting. After it's over, I'm incom-
plete again. Not working is terrible, But
at the moment when they cry “Action!
everything you've thought about, every-
thing you've tried то foresee, suddenly —
н а ash comes together like an ele
tric spark. Zzzst! It's the act of creation,
when all the elements are fused.
PLAYBOY: Would you call yourself an
instinctive actor?
MASTROIANNI: | often say I am, be-
cause it amuses me; it’s convenient to
Say it; otherwise people want to know
what "system? you use, how you think,
and your reasons, Since all that annoy
the hell out of me, I say Em "an instinc
tive actor." Bur I tell you as a friend, it's
not so. It can't be so. 1 have to foresee,

to plm everything. big and little.
PLAYBOY: Fellini has said that you
have "a supercharge of animal heat"

that invests your roles with life even be-
fore you speak. Wasn't he talking about
your acting instine
MASTROIANNI: Sure. But what sort of
mal does he mean? An actor isn't a
trained horse that goes into its act, be
cause a horse can't act. The personage
must mature within you. But not by
study E don't study a damn thing. W's
my subconscious that does the work
Once I've read the script, and once Гус
isolated the character—which D always
seek to resemble me somewhat—it begins
10 grow within me during the day, no
matter what I do—like a parasite. So |
tle by little 1 assimilate it—or vice versa
It comes through the instinct, yes, be.
cause this is inevitable. But not through
study. Take an example: If 1 have to
play the part of a madman, 1 don't go to
an insane asylum to study madmen. This
doesn’t accomplish anything; it will lead
ation cter in
the sc itten well and involved in
real situations, the madness of the role
will come out by itself. It will mature
within you, animating your voice and
vour body of its own volition.

PLAYBOY: "That sounds like the Method.
MASTROIANNI: 1 don't know anyth
about methods or systems or schools
But you must make sense of all the
Clements that motivate the mind of a
character. You must select the best in or-
der to better reach the public, calcular
ing and using the effect. When 1 prepare
for a scene, І reflect much on wi
have to do. Much. I study the gestures
ial expressions, everythi
is a technical job, not instinctive,
it’s something an actor must do. Sim
nter doesn’t work by i

to а mere im

st
calculates his colors before
freeing himsel! into creative action. An
artist, like an actor, must meditate deep-
ly what he does—perhaps leaning more
on instinct than on culture. Thats the
main point. I'm not a cultured actor.
Im more instinetive than cultured

When the chucker goes “chock,” 1 let
AME go, and from ћете Бога! Газ
off. Then something unforescen happens,
some small thing that gives you the
slightest. shudder. Something new and
unexpected occurs; it’s that which gives
you à sense

PLAYBOY: Do

occur-
with the

scrip
MASTROIANNI: Well, T shouldn't
but I never study the lines I recite
I read the script two or three times,
think about it a lule, then I throw it
away and can never find 1. Then,
at the last minute, I say sistant
director: "What's my line?” The exact
words are not important; thats a me-
chanical element. Í never say the exact
dialog. Often I change the words. 1 like
to abandon myself to the рап: if the
character has matured sufficiently within
me, the words come out by themselves.
So ther id of truth harnessed at
the last moment, as it once was in thc
commedia. dell arte, when the actors
improvised their lines on the stage.
PLAYBOY: You began your own care
as a stage actor; but you haven't donc a
play in nine years. Why not?
MASTROIANNI: Lack of good plays. Where
is the avant-garde theater in Italy? Os-
borne, lonesco, Miller—always the same.
Actually, Mill sked to do Afier
the Fall. When it didn't come olf, I
wasn't upset. I'd already played the role
and better, too—in $
PLAYBOY: You feel that Guido, the di-
rector in Fellini's $14, is the same role
as Miller's Quentin—only better?
MASTROIANNI: Don't you think it has
more humanity—that its more univer-
sal? I do. Also, Guido says more about
the loneliness of the intellectual, his in-
capacity to love and communicate with
others, and the resultant. aridity that's
the terrible burden of our lives today.
PLAYBOY: Do you feel, then, that 515
is a work superior to After the Fall?
MASTROIANNI: Much superior. Not only
because of content, but also because it's
n cinema. H you know what you
doing. if vou have means and the
films be
ty than theater, They can reach deeper
mo human beings.
PLAYBOY: But 2
you miss the appla
udiencez
MASTROIANNI: N.

ay this,

vested. with more hı

a performer, don't
ol a live theater

, why should 1? Does
a painter need immediate applause?
tual acclaim enough? Besides
ng a role,
something else—not

ight after night. An
renew himself. But I don't mean Um
antitheater. In fact, I am going to do à
musical shortly in Rome, on the life of
Rudolph Valenti
PLAYBOY: Can you sing?

MASTROIANNI: I'm going to ty—even

want to do
me thi
actor needs to

you
the 5

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PLAYBOY

though they say I'm tone deaf. What
does it mater? D want to have some
fun. Also, I like the prospect of find-
ing new dimensions in the personality
of Valentino. Lets see if there isn't
nore to him than the myth of the great
lover. The success of a type like Valen-
tino or Marilyn Monroe is inevitably
dramatic, tragic, grotesque—because the
private lives of these people are almost
always impoverished. Imagine the effort
it must have taken for Valentino to con-
vince himself that he was really like his
myth—or, even worse, not like his myth.
Im sure he made very little love. That
makes you laugh? It makes me cry.

Will your portrayal of Va-
s self-exploratory as the parts
you've played on the screen?
MASTROIANNI: Perhaps. We'll have to
wait and sce.

PLAYBOY: Last ic
change of pace after your many roles as
the world-weary Latin lover, you turned

year, in a dram:

leader in The Organizer. Did you see
yourself in this part, too?

MASTROIANNI: Very much so. That
film was particularly dear to me. 1t had a
profound human message, and the role
ol the professor was beautiful,
PLAYBOY: Are you a socialist yourself?
MASTROIANNI: I'm the son of workers.
What else could I be? P] admit I'm
а rose water socialist—that is, Vm not ac
tive. I don't belong to the party and I
avoid involvement, because it means
compromise. So I stand in the window
nd watch. But I vote socialist, because
in our affluent society it seems logical
that all this largesse should be spread
around a little more equitably.
PLAYBOY: Those are generous sentiments
coming from someone who is said to

carn 5300,000 per picture.
MASTROIANNI: Madonna mia! 15 it that
mud

PLAYBOY: Isn't it?

MASTROIANNI: If I told you, the tax
collector would assume it was a 1
double й. I's terrible here. Nobody cin
st. They figure you're a liar [rom
the start.

PLAYBOY: You're also said 10 have re-
ceived many offers of $500,000 a picture
to work in Hollywood. Do you plan to
accept any of them?

MASTROIANNI: Maybe. I can’t decid
PLAYBOY: Why not?

MASTROIANNI: The idea of working in
Hollywood troubles me. Apart from the
fact that I don't understand English very
well, E just don't understand the people
there. I don't understand why someone
like Ma ando—who is a great
actor—does films like Mutimy on the
Bounty. And those Westerns! Why are
Americans so obsessed with Westerns? Is
it a problem for them? Why doesn't

be hoi

Brando, who has a great talent, make
films about the lives of people in New
York, or Chicago, or St. Louis—and not
bout men on South Sea islands and
those who live in the mythological world
of the cowboy?
PLAYBOY: Are you à
tertainment?
MASTROIANNI: Of course not. People have
ays gone to movies for escape and
ution, But they go especially if it
alo has a meaning for them, if it is
rooted their lives and touches on
their own problems. Comedy can do this.
"Take Chaplin, for example. or Divorce
айап Style. That was funny, but it
dealt with ‘rious problem in Italy.
PLAYBOY: What are your own fcelings
about divorce, Italian style—the institu-
tion, not the movie
MASTROIANNI: It doesn't exist. The Church
originally prohibited divorce with the
aim of making marriage important and
beautiful. Yer this has had the opposite
effect. Adultery is rife and по one takes
ously, because
the element of choice has been preclud-
ed. Terrible things come from it. Tntol-
erable marriages end up in second unions

painst escapist en-

out of wedlock. Children born from
these grow up nameless, filled with awful
complexes about their illegitin

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the
Church's stand on birth control?

MASTROIANNI: 15 ridiculous, obsolete.
I cannot believe that those bishops,
iuing in the Vatican Council, are not
wise men. Surely they see the needs of
the contemporary world. The rhythm
method, which the Church accepts, sim-
ply doesn’t work out. On the "right"
days one may not feel like making love
a wife tells her husband she's
forbidden” phase, he may take
up with a tart for the night, which en-
his wife. It's the

PLAYBOY: Many movie marriages wind up
on the rocks. Why has yours lasted?
MASTROIANNI: I've accepted my
defects and she's accepted mine. This i
out of sullerance and 1 suppose because
we're modern about it. It's useless to
пу and escape ourselves. Maybe we're
not ideal together; but maybe we arc.
We're both full of defects, many de-
fects. Maybe we weren't made to be to-
gether; but for this very reason it might
be too easy nol to stay together. So we
say, "Let's stick it owt all the sime." I's
kind of game we want to make work.
PLAYBOY: Docs your Catholicism have
anything to do with why jou remain

MASTROIANNI: o, Jm not a real
Catholic, anyway—even though I am re-
Jesus Christ is an admirable ex-
ample, but he's too remote from men of
today 10 be a model. Or he's too much of
one to be understood and followed. A
man who dies [or others is moving and

admirable, but how many followers c

he have in a world filled with people
who will hardly help you across the

street, let alone die for you?
PLAYBOY: How do you feel about death?

Are you afraid of it?
MASTROIANNI: The thought of it does
bother me a bit.

PLAYBOY: Would you like to be im-

mortal?
MASIROIANNI: Arc you making an ollerz
If so, I'd like to remain cternally 3
or 36—mature, but still young and
powerful, like a bull. The idea of grow-
ing old and feeble is extremely annoying,
Fm abo unsculed by the thought of
shifting over to spirit form and floating
about like tha
PLAYBOY: Spirit form? You believe in
a life after death?

MASTROIANNE: Truthfully, no. If I did
life would be noble, more in
teresting, because it would have an ulii
mate goal—that of c g- dE E were
tholic and believed in the
afterlife of the soul, Td be a man of
greater force and more clear minded,
because I'd have a precise purpose 10
prepare myself for. But since | fe:
everything will cnd with death, 1 sa
“What do E car Of course, thi
in a negative manner, because
the end, after all, is the end. Over and

is leads

г death; do you also

fear life?

MASTROIANNI: l fear the dec
fe. Matters requiring solution fy
me, because I'm not able to do i
posals for work also frighten me.
offers for films from everywhere—too
I agree to them—but then 1 run
off and hide. For example, 1 told you
1 was doing Rudolph Valentino for
f nd it’s true. But. there's. another
reason. By accepting this theatrical offer
1 don't have to worry about the others
And so I have a modicum of peace for a
small time. Especially from the Ате
cans. When I get their fantastic ollers, 1
think: “What are they saying? They're
crazy. Im not that. important.
PLAYBOY: Still. i[ you could begin a,
wouldn't it be as an actor?

many.

MASTROIANNI: I'd be both an actor
an architect. 1 would do a fil then
build a building, d a fih amd so o

The Seagram's Building in New York
took my breath away. Га like to build
one in Rome. o of glass and crys-

away. Like sculpture. Not to
make money, though. It would probably
lose money. But it would be there for
me to stand before it and say: “Look,
there is something I did which I love
d which will fast—at least a little
longer than myself.”

5
bi

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PLAYBOY?

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along a scenic attraction of his own. Facts: Over half of all PLAYBOY reader households own two or more
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Advertising Offices: New York - Chicago + Detroit - Los Angeles » San Francisco + Atlanta

LOOK AWAY

there was the southland's
magnolia and musk, mingled with his
poignant memories of flora—

and the acrid reek of hatred and death
fiction By HOKE NORRIS

1 WANT To KNOW: Is there anywhere a
land of goodness and beauty? Once 1
thought there was. The streets were
lined with oaks. The houses were cool
and shuttered. Men and women sat on
porches telling stories. 1 picked blackber.
ries on red ditchbanks and sold them to
a Negro who made wine. I fished and
hunted, in still waters, in still forests.
The summers were long. the winters
short. With a girl named Flora 1 swung
in a swing with a long rope, and a quar
ter are of an automobile tire for a seat.

The rope ascended up and up to the
oaken limb, and 1 giggled when her
dress billowed and 1 saw her thighs. The
flesh. was sweet and warm. in warm sun
light. We stood outside the Negro
church and listened to the singing. We
thought we knew them, They were lov-
ing. primitive and joyful, and they
cooked for our mothers, cleaned our
houses and dug our ditches, and at night
went away. In the moonlight their skin
shone like the leaves of magnolia, They
sat on their porches at night, in a dark
city, dark and silent. We sat on our
porches, listening to grandfathers. We
heard the crickets singing. and far away
in the mist at the pond the croaking of
frogs. We slept, we ate, we sang, we
played, we loved, and went aw

Sometimes we come back, and want to
know

Flora and 1 went away, to the univer-
sity. She was one of those beauties with
olive skin, black hair and blue eyes. and
а long, square-shouldered body. When

we made love she gasped and sobbed
and closed her eyes and they filled with
rs. and her face was raw and naked,
drawn, wild, troubled «Му

and profou
sad, and then faintly lighted with ú
derness and sleep. 1 would never forget
But (as 1 learned later) there was anoth-
er man, lan Macdonald, whose father
cr. They didn't

was а banker and a pla
marry just then. We all went away
again

lan went to Harvard. I went to New

York, and worked for a magazine. Flora
went to New York, too. New York is a

small town. You can’t hide there, any

1 ch other ag
the lobby at the Algonquin, after the
theater, drin s. She wold me
she was a model, She was a long necked
New York Modigliani in a fashion ad.
with her hip out of joint, They made
her gaunt and ved. For six
months we slept together, in my place
on Iih Avenue. We argued only about
the Negroes who came to my parties.
Flora would leave as soon as a Negro ar
rived. It wasn't important. So 1 thought
Shi ed, without farewell, on a
summer day, and in the fall she
lan Macdonald.

Two years later 1 returned to the uni
versity for a few days. My
cent gentled the
out pres card. pe nd nor pad
"Then the eye chilled and narrowed,
the mouth closed (o

Кеп-е

ried

d
stony bloodless
line The mob attacked cars. photogra-

phers, dhe marshals and the Army of the
United States of America. The si
local cops grinned, and withdre
would help no nigger get

went away saddened and sick:

. They
n that door. 1
Ad. bi

most u
people tender. The violent ones were
ed, for the moment, by
ge doctrines. They and the cri
would go aw.

Last summer 1 w
dering and fearful, yet excited,
valgic sort of way, and hoping. I wanted
I wanted to liste
on the eve
g porches. I sull was ve
At the motel, on the first evening, 1
to a reporter I had first met dur-
nines at the ui ty.
rly two years before. We had dinner
together. He had been in Mississippi for
week. “Obey all the Jaws,” he told me.
These cops down here will arrest you
for anything—for nothing. Don't drive a
car with an outofstate license plate.
Don't even approach the speed li

surance;

young.

ор at all stop signs. Don't cross the
low line. Don't shack up with a woman.
She may be part of

me. Don't dress

conspicuously. These kids coming down
here are just begging for trouble. S.
dals, sneakers, beards—my God! Some of
) are going 10 pet hurt, or killed.
Don't say anything in public or on d
telephone. АЙ the telephones you'll use
are tapped. Don't wavel alone. Doi
wavel at night. Don't trust anybod
There're some splendid people dow
here, but they can't do a damn thing to
help you. You're absolutely alone, in

PLAYBOY

one sense, in the most fundamental
sense, but remember: Always have a
friend with you

I thanked him, and went for a ride,
пса Oldsmobile. І never
had liked being one of the pack, picking
each other's brains; 1 would be no head-
quarters reporter; surely, day and night,
alone or not, I would be safe. This w;
my home. I drove the dark streets. I had
never remembered them as dark. I
moved slowly, looking for the porches.
They were dark. Lonesome lighted signs
welcomed me to the Baptist church, the
Kiwanis Club and the hotels. In the Ne-
gro section the darkness closed down
and the silence was the silence of deep
space. On the porches before the dark
shacks 1 saw a white shirt, the flare of a
match, and a dark, still presence. The
streets were rutted and gritty. At а cor-
ner I slowed and stopped, and looked
about me. 1 just hadn't remembered the
as so dark. 1 remembered it as
and red, blue and green. A car
stopped behind me. I drove on. It fol-
lowed. I saw a sign, QUIET—SICK ZONE,
and laughed, but not much. The follow-
ing car was patient—50 feet back, slow-
ing and turning and speeding as 1 did.
At the motel, when 1 parked, it stopped
its patient. respectful 50 fect away, and
two white faces gazed at me, slack-lipped
and flat-eyed but without expression ex-
cept, perhaps, for slow-witted specula-
n and assessment. If they were my
shadows, they were harmless I forgot
them. In my room 1 turned on the tele-
sion set in time to see an announcer
read the news. The news was that nearly
200 college students—Negro and white—
were arriving this weekend. They would
make a revolution, if they could.

1 was here to write a story about them.
The next morning my reporter friend
told me that one of them had been ar-
rested, possibly for driving 30 miles an
hour in а 40-mile zone. I went to the
courthouse. h was Georgian brick
building. with the customary Greek fa-
cade—fluted columns and Doric capitals

and on the roof а Romanesque cupola,
and its tiny replica perched upon it. The
grass of the lawn was sparse, brittle and
faded, and the red earth baked and
cracked. At the edge of the square stood
a sign, in the form of a coat of arms,
proclaiming the Americ
то God Movement. It li dozen or
so churches, from Southern Baptist to
Roman Catholic, and admonished, Go ro
THE CHURCH OF YOUR CHOICE, BUT Go!
Our Southern people are very religious.
1 was right at home.

In the dim. cool corr

lor of the court-
house I found the deputy who had ar
rested the alien student. He was a short,
hard, deeply browned young man wear-
ng a revolver on his hip, and on his
head a straw hat, after the fashion of the
place, with its wide brim curved sharply
up over his cars, like the wings of a

plunging hawk. His name was Fon
Crane. I fied myself.

He looked me over, up and до
with black cyes in a mahogany face.
er? By Gud, you'd better be.”
“You want to see my press card?"
Crane took it with slow, sullen fingers,
brought out a small black notebook and
with labor and squinting, copied my

ame in it His slow, sullen finger
straightened. barely holding out the
card, forcing me to reach arm's length
for it. He waited, his eyes slanted at me.
1 asked him about the arrest.

"How come you know about it so
quick?”

“Another reporter told me about it.”

“And howd he know so quick?”

“They told him at Freedom House.”

"You livin with um, ain't you?”

“For God's sake," I took a deep breath
and wrestled with my anger. “I wouldn't
be here if | were living with um.”

“I can't tell you a thing,” Crane said,
wheeling and striding away like a cow.
boy in an old movie.

“Who can?”

“Nobody can," he shouted, without
turning. “Nobody in God's world.”

1 heard another voice, and turned. 1
was being addressed by a planter type, а
ınan as well fed and pudgy and ruddy
a boar ready for butchering. He was tall
and neat, and he wore a straw hat like
the deputy's Behind him I saw а small
group of overalled men slouched in the
dimness of the corridor. They seemed
hazed. as if they stood in fog. I listened
to the planter type, hearing but not un
derstanding, for the moment.

"Do you live here? Did we send for
you? Well, we do live here, and we
didn't send for you, and we'd appreciate
it if you'd get out of town.”

‘There was a sort of Biblical rhythm in
his addres; it was
need. And perhaps 1 should have
appreciated also the fine irony of his
the Southern grace of “we'd
appreciate ve brutish:
ness of "get out of town.” But in that
time and place—high noon in a South-
ern courthouse—I saw only the naked
loathing of a loathsome man. Behind
him his audience stirred, like fish
stained waters of a swamp. He spre:
legs and put his hands on his hips. 1
incapable of speech. I walked out into

GO TO THE CHURCH OF YOUR CHOICE,
bur Gol
Numbed, de

ing the time of ac-
ng as long as I could, E found my-
phrasing an old Bill Broonzy
Go to the church of your choice,
if you're white you're all right, if you're
brown stick around, if you're black get
back, get back, get back . .. I hummed
the old half-remembered cry, remember-
ing the old halfremembered voice, and
walked to my car. The steering wheel

was so hot it burned my fingertips. and
my bare arm smarted [rom a touch of
the door. 1 turned on the engine and
waited for the air conditioning io cool
the air about me. 1 urembled and sick-
ened, in fear and rage. But I'm a South
emer, too, I whispered; this is my home,
too. The men had moved from the corri-
dor to the porch of the courthouse
They stood between two fluted columns,
slack and still, squinting in my direction
—a Southern frieze. The planter

stood at their center, а tall i
white, shortsleeved shirt and
pants, his straw hat the peak of the ped
speech. 1 cursed
Men and women

certai

scorched ai
neys. Di Marlon Brando in
Mutiny on the Bounty. Confederate flags.

Window stickers: SUPPORT your с
ZENS’ COUNCIL, red, white and blue.
1 could make no assessment, not yet.

And yet, unmistakably, as I drove
around the square, 1 [ch followed. The
skin of my back crawled upon its frame,
and the hairs at my neck stiffened and
itched. | was exposed, naked, alone,
open not only to a bullet but to the ob-
scenity of surveillance. In my mirror 1
saw an old Chevrolet sedan approach
close to my rear bumper. 1 cursed. But
turned into an alley. The street behind
me was empty, for a moment; then an
old black Ford sedan buzzed up like a Пу
landing on a mirror. 1 drove slowly
watching its reflection. A driver and an-
other man. In the movies the passenger
was always said (o be riding shotgun.
Oaks, maples and magnolias owed for-
ward and away in the glass, but the Ford
stuck, steadfast, patient
The two faces behind me were sh;
beneath the brims of su
Deputy Crane's. ‘They were darkened
па vulpine. But just the skin and
hair crawled again, they
turned out of m 1 vanished.

And now came, ereepi
Buick station wagon, long, elegant and
new. A white woman was drivi the
seat behind her there м
an, after thi
black and whi integ
t of a car. The Buick passed me, and
the driver stared, and waved. 1 did not
recognize her, but in her face 1 found
sharp and arresting familiarity—an acute
stirring of the past, now alien and out of
context. Her mouth opened in some un-
heard greeting, or exhortation, or excori-
ion. and ] cursed again. Even thi
women unted d threatened the
stranger. The Buick hurried on and, a
cr a hundred yards, slowed suddenly,
pulled to the side of the street and
stopped with a swinging and a swaying.
The driver's door was flung open and

(continued on page 130)

hed

| | dy / | { ni

"They were right. What I needed was a good psychiatrist."

Above: Down beside the she side our guy weors o Dacron ond

cotton zip-front surf jocket, by Silton, $13, with novy Vycron

ond cotton shorts, by Doy’s Sportswear, $7. In the middle: A beoming
water nymphet sports with o bright fellow in potchwork cotton

modros surf trunks, by Laguna, $7. Top right: A Colifornio party hoppily
goes on the rocks: from left to right, the men ore in ploid denim

trunks, by Cotolina, $7; stretch denim surf trunks with wox pocket, by

Jontzen, $7; ond cotton twill lifeguord suit, by Bolboo Originols,

$9. Bottom right: A spelunking session begins with the explorer on the

left in nylon surf jocket, by Silion, $11. The chop up front weors

hooded surf jocke! of unlined nylon, $10, with motching

62 double nylon surf trunks, $5, both by Pebble Beoch

THE WEST COAST WAY

refreshing as a pacific breeze,
the latest in california casuals

attire By ROBERT L. GREEN

WHEN THE РАСК at
leader. But the fact

guna shoulders its surfboards out into the Pacific, it looks like anything but a fashion
that, in Ieading the way in casual menswear, the coves and beaches of California have
beaten the Eastern seaboard at its own designing game: When 200,000 surfers go down to the sca in style,
they start a sartorial tidal wave that will make news from Balboa to Baltimore. The rakish aspects of
California attire are apparent not only in beachwear, but throughout the entire sports wardrobe. By glom-
ming the wail-blazing California styles pictured here, you can get a good look at the future of sportswear.

Geared to a world of beach frolics and top-down convertibles, the imaginative designers on the West
Coast have put the emphasis on light, bright colors and created an entire wardrobe of

to look at, easy to get into, easy to wear and, when the time calls for it, easy to shuck. The young Cali

” dothes—easy

fornian hops into his car and heads for the ocean like a lemming whenever he gets the chance. He wants

PHOTOGRAPHY BY PETE TURNER

Top: For after-swimming relaxation the guy lounges in Roman-condle-
striped Docron and cotton seersucker hooded porka with zip front,
$15, over Dacron ond cotton shoris, $9, both by Martin of

California. Above: For cocktails our mon sports a striped Arnel and
rayon denim one-button sports jocket, $40, with complementing

blue slocks, $15, both by Rotner, ond striped silk tie, by Don Loper, $5.
In the middle: A winsome pairing gets ready to heod for the
hinterland. The chap is in o wool knit jocket with suede front, by
Scully Bros., $45, Dacron ond cotton oxford shirt, by Loncer, $7, ond
Dacron ond wool stretch slacks, by Rough Rider, $22. At for right:

А quiet couple perfectly attired for lote-afternoon relaxing,

with the man in o heather-blend wool ond mohair cardigon, by Kondel, $19.

= >
, i Ra
? »
ls
$ ñ"
Y
>
B
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(57
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casually correct clothes he can wear over a bathing suit, drape over the back of his car while he goes swim-
ming, and in which he can later pass inspection at the Marco Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel.

The biggest single fashion influence [rom California is, naturally, seen on the beaches, where adaptations
of the professional surfer's trunks are appearing in bold patchworks and bright solid colors. Slightly roomier

than the swimsuits of recent years, the new models do away with the standard zippered fronts and opt for

either lacing or heavy-duty fasteners. You may be sure these suits will make the beach scene in a big way this

season. Another striking California innovation we foresee creating news is a knit shirt that looks like a
cardigan. In the more traditional sports coats, the California image calls for a long, lean silhouette using
the contoured one-button jacket offsetting closely tapered slacks, On view here, then, is an опа

showing of the California styles of today that will be the national fashions of tomorrow.

Boaxgwid

‘My God—they're heading for the delphiniums!”

humor By ALLAN SHERMAN

SEX AND THE SINGLE SHERMAN

WARNING: The following is pretty sexy. It's all about puberty and adolescence and girls and nakedness. For

good or bad,

"s an honest chronicle of my own years of discovery of sex, and it sheds some light on why I am what-

ever I am, and that's why I wrote it. But a lot of people said I shouldn't write it because it would spoil my image.
So if you like my image betler than you like me, please don't read this. Those who are looking for something like
“The Carpetbaggers" might as well skip this, too. I'm sexy, all right, but not that sexy.

WHEN 1 was a little boy and we lived in Chicago, I had a
whole basement full of toys, and the one I remember most
wains—passenger trains. Each car more
1 à foot long, with all the accessories, signals going up and
stations, blinking lights, water towers and coal chutes—
the works. Then the Depression came, and my father lost his
business and we had to move to California.

I remember one day going down to the basement to play
with my trains, and there were no trains. No tracks, no blink-
ing lights, no stations, no water towers. My trains were gone.
So were all my other toys.

Sometimes when I am in New York сусп now, I go up to
the second floor of the F. A. O. Schwarz toy store and wander
around for two or three hours; meanwhile, people are trying
to get me on the phone, and nobody knows where I am, and
I'm lost as far as the world is concerned, but I'm up there on
the second floor of F. A. O. Schwarz having a ball playing
with the toys. I'm working the electric trains and playing all
the new games and fitting the plastic pieces of model kits
together. I guess what I am really doing is trying to make
something in my life continuous, because from that day when
the trains were suddenly gone, those large solid tra
lighted cars and the passengers’ silhouettes painted i
lows—from the day they disappeared, something che
ppeared with them: my ability, or at least my desire, to
nguish between what is reality and what is fantasy.

1 wonder why, when I started to write about sex, 1 began
with the missing trains. I guess it was because Í wanted you to
understand, and I wanted myself to understand, that since the
morning those wains disappeared in Chicago, since the night
my family fell apart through divorce in Los Angeles, since the
first time I was sent away to live with ant relatives, 1 have
lived with the terror that there is nothing tangible, that there
is no one who really wants me, and that anything that is any
fun, anything in the world that is any fun, is not going to
last; one morning I'll look for it, and it just won't be there
anymore.

dis

Nobody ever told me anything about sex. 1 mean, by the
time 1 was ready for a heart-to-heart fatherson talk, I no
longer had a father. My mother was embarrassed to discuss it,
and was also, 1 now realize, involved in her own sex problems.
‘The only preparation I had, I got by osmosis; 1 was a nice
Jewish boy, so 1 knew you shouldn't do tt, whatever it was, to
nice girls. But all my life 1 have been attracted to nice girls,
the kind you aren't supposed to do it to, and they. too, have
been brought up, at least in my generation, g that
they shouldn't do it either. How it ever gets done between
nice people is а mystery to me. What / think happens is, nice
people do it, but their heart isn’t in it.

The first girl I remember was Natalie. I was living with a
distant aunt and uncle in New York in an apartment house
on Audubon Avenue on the Upper West Side. I was about
ten years old, and so was Natalie. She lived on the same floor,
and we played an interesting game. I imagine we had to

invent this game to rationalize our sexual explorations of
cach other. Because without the game, it would have been a
blunt adn п that we were curious about each other's sex
organs, and this, of course, was a nasty and dirty thing.

We played the game in the hallway. The idea w:
would run across the hall, and the first one to touch a cert
doorknob at the other end of the hall was allowed 10 see and
touch the other's privates. This was a real good game. Oh
boy! Y tell you, I couldn't wait to get home from school and
get the game started. And the more we played this game the
more it was a good game. It sure beat football and stickball
and Monopoly, which was also popular at the tim
adevio and kick-the-can: and even if Scrabble
vented then, I wouldn't have wanted to play Scrabble,
because the highest triple-word score in the world would not
have expressed how much I liked the game Natalie and 1
played every afternoon. We had no name for our game. The
rules came naturally to both of us. and the rules got more
relaxed as the game continued. We never argued about who
won, because losing was just as much fun as winning. 1 knew
1 had a good thing going here, so I didn't tell any of the oth
little boys about my secret game. At the time, 1 though
Natalie was the only girl in the world who would play
game, but now I realize that I might have made a fortune
with Parker Brothers or Milton Bradley if they could ha
seen their way clear to put out something called The Natal
and-Allan Doorknob Game. It would have been a big seller.
with very simple instructions, and no plastic pieces to get lost

It was terrible when I had to leave New York and go back
to Los Angeles because my mother had a boyfriend there. My
heart was broken, because I guess in а way, in а сету
way. I had fallen in love with Natalie

Back in Los Angeles, when 1 was in
some boys gave me the word about masturbs
heard of it, so they gave me instructions. The only problem
was I had feelings of shame. I was а member of The Boy
Scouts of America at the time, and on page 238, 1 think it
was, of the official Boy Scout. manual, it said you should
masturbate, because it was unhealthy and un-American; 1
hope the Boy Scouts have gotten more progressive and
changed this page, because 1 think kids have to masturbate.
In those days it was referred to as “self-abuse,” and all kinds
of stories went around among nice boys that if you masturbat-
ed you would grow hair on your palms or go crazy or develop
strange warts or your brains would get soft or your father
would fall through an open manhole. This turned out to be
mere propaganda.

1 would like to say, right now, that if they expel all The
Boy Scouts of America who masturbate, then next year's Boy
Scout Jamboree is going to be a mighty small and lonely af-
fair; and let's be honest about it, so will the Campfire Gils
convention.

How is а boy of 18 going to take the presure off without
it?

There was a girl in ji r high school —Geraldine.
1 thought she was beautiful and (continued оп page 151)

SOMMER PONCH BOWL

come, fill the cup with a cooling compendium of warm-weather whistle wetters
drink By THOMAS MARIO

IN THE WORLD of entertaining there is no more delightfully flexible potable than
a good punch in the mouth, This protean party favorite can assume any festive
task to which it's put. Made with light moselle or Rhenish wines, it can beguile
your guests with a light, delicate flavor that rests ea on the tongue. Switch to
the heavier-duty stuff of brandies and rums and it can smoothly make for jolly
high spirits and flowing conversation.

Until recently in this country, the punch bowl was trotted out only at the
year-end saturnalia, when it was filled with a hot wassail or a rich whiskey eggnog,
only to be put in dry storage for the next 12 months. More and more hosts today
are going back to the reigns of the four Georges of England, when men like
David Garrick and Sam Johnson vied with each other to invent newer and
stronger punch recipes as they ladled their way through puncheries, punch clubs
and punch taverns all over England. It was an era when the punch bowl was an
indispensable item for the gentry. In various shapes and styles they shined as
baptismal fonts in joyful solemnity, sparkled invitingly at weddings, formed the
convivial center at election campaign rallies, and were even pressed into service
to help celebrate military triumphs.

Too often a prospective host shies away from giving a punch party because it

PHOTOGRAPHY BY J. BARRY O'ROURKE

PLAYBOY

ls like too ple
ch recipes in which Iruit has
to be marinated in liquors for a day or
two. but those are the exceptions. Gen-
erally, an hour or so is all you necd for
ripening the strong and the weak, the
tart and the sweet for a really superior
punch, And yet, as casy as it is the
punch bowl. with its gleaming island of
ice in a sea of liquor, propels any casual
айай into a gala occasion. The sight of
the brimming bowl seems to draw
dr | persuasions. be they light,
heavy.

As host. you should be willing and able
to assume the role of benevolent dicta-
tor. You fill your bowl with only oni
uor combination—a happy limit
that emancipates the madding crowd
from making a choice. H ¢ the kind
of host who wants to remain sober, you
may do so, although this kind of Spartan
discipline isn't really necessary, since the
party, once ay. is completely self-
serving. Undoubtedly, the best side effect
is what a punch bowl can do for your
cgo. When you serve a boule of finc
whiskey or wine, you're given mild cred-
it as a thoughtful host, but the lion's
share of plaudits is reserved for the dis-
tiller or Vintner whose name appears on
the bottle. When you serve a fine punch,
the hours of glory are yours alone.

Ben Franklin once observed that some
people "can in an instant understand all
arts and sciences by the liberal education
of a little vivifying punch.” But before
у, you must first know how.
For instance, an ounce of Chartreuse
will quickly spread its rich flavor
through a whole boule of white wine.
An ounce of white wine, on the other
hand, is hopelessly lost in а bottle of
Chartreuse. Add а mere splash of heavy
Jamaica rum to a whiskey punch and it
is instantly cited for its dark flavor. М a
tablespoon of whiskey in a rum punch
is noticed at all, it is taken as a mistake—
something dropped in accidentally.
Thus, while alcohol would seem to be
the staff of life in a punch bowl, it's real-
ly the diversified flavors of alcohol, sub-
tly balanced, that bring on the special
cuphoria of a successful punch. Even
nonalcoholic favors must join in the
balancing act with the stronger liquors.
A tart taste such as cranberry juice needs
the self
Hayor of blueberries marries cozily with
the opulence of Greek brandy.

You can always peg a really profes-
sional bartender by his icemanship. He
uses ice both to chill and 10 mildly di
lute. When he twirls whiskey and ver-
mouth. with mixing gi
knows the exact point at which the two
ounces of liquor reach their icy peak of
perfection and become three ounces of
manhattan cocktail. Punch is made cold
in two ways—by prechilling all ingredi
ents from the brandy to the bitters, and
by placing а floati nd of ice in the

ми

а few pu

you can v

ingness of vodka. The deep

icc in а ass, he

ast the
jed.

wl insell. waves lap ap
ice, the liquid becomes properly dilu
А few cold punches, such as the cha
pagne varieties, should not be diluted,
although they are sometimes ice-girt
» a surrounding vessel of crushed ice.
These days, when the iceman no long
ег cometh, it's sometimes difficult to buy
а really good-sized chunk. However. in

our age of the cube, this is no particu
problem. In fact, cubes are faster in
their chilling effect tha block. But to

serious punch makers, they
craft alongside the tradition
buster in the punch bowl. You can n
your own by simpl water i
metal or plastic container, а deep sauce-
pan or metal mixing bowl Normally
you want a chunk of ice made with two
quarts of water for each gallon of punch.
After freezing, dip the sides of the bowl
in warm water for a few seconds a
ice will slide easily down the ways
top may form a slight peak and rev
crack or two, but the inverted iceberg
will be smooth and should float serenely.

If you don't own a punch bowl, there
is an immense variety designed for a
helors equipage. The biggest bowl
on record was used at a party given by
Admiral Edward Russell in 1694 at Ali-
cante, to celebrate the victory of his
Mediterranean fleet over the French a
La Hogue: The doughty admiral served
a tidal wave of punch in an enormous
marble (о some 6000 gu

are puny
1 icy block
in make
a

fou
The recipe called for four hogsheads of

ests.

brandy and the juice of 2500 lemons as a
starter. Eventually, everybody got high.
including the two boys who alternared
in a small rowboat ladling out punch
to the guests at the rim of the fountain.
The boys didn't drink it themselves,
but eventually toppled over from the
fumes that rose from the lake of ha
iquor. If you are celebrating something
bit smaller than a fleet victory, there
are several elegant, ıd. choices
ilable. Old-f;

of bowl а tb
ways charm ass bowls
showing th ad "The

round. There are th
a the shape of brandy
snifters and huge crockery ones big
enough for a goose to swim in. In an
emergency, of course, you can use any-
thing from a fish bowl to a champagne
bucket, But where punch becomes a hab-
it, as it recently has in many quarters, а
handsome silver or glass bowl on a tray
and a dozen squat punch cups become
the easiest portable bar extant.

The food you serve at a punch. party
depends more on the hour than on the
punch itself. I your guests are gathered
together for the kind of nearly total im
mersion that takes place at the cocktail
hour, youll find what the French call
amuse-gueules very useful. These are
simply the small cocktail tidbits that lit-
erally beguile the palate and nothing
more: salted Macadamia nuts, olives.

Kill” are still

modern bowls

cheese twigs smoked. oysters or smoked
coil liver on buttered sounds of melba
toast. If the party extends beyond the
twilight should be re
allimone casserole—a
zini, or a beef stew in red wine, ei
which. like the punch bow! ихе.
become the grand center of attention

The punch recipes that follow cach
make approximately a gallon of potable
enough lor eight bibulous gue
rounds apiece.

lv with
chicken

you

ORANGE ALMOND BOWL

18 ол. blended whiske
12 ozs. Danish aquavit
1 quart plus 8 ољ. orange j
8 ozs. sweet vermouth

1 teaspoon orange bitters
Peel of 2 large Calilornia oranges
6 ozs. slivered almonds

2 tablespoons melted. butter

'
1 quart plus 1 pint q
Preheat ov 75

in shallow pai

over almonds, mixi

imine water

е almonds
plate. Pour butter
g well. Place pan
and 1 almonds arc medi
brown, stirring once during
Avoid scorching, Sprinkle with
Chill almonds and all other ingredients
Pour whiskey, aquavit, orange jui
mouth and bitters over Euge ble
in punch bowl Let mixture ripen |
hour. Cut orange peel into narrow strips
bout 2 in. long. Pou nine water
into bowl. Stir. Float orange peel and
Imonds on punch.

GIN CASANOVA PUNCH.

1 quart gin
16 ozs. Casanova liqueur

16 ozs. dry vermouth

1t unsweetened grapefruit juice
14 cup sugar

1 quart club soda

2 lemons

hes mint
ll ingredier
liqueui

juice over large block of ice in punch
Add sugar

id stir well. Let mix
ture Just before serving
add club soda to bowl. Stir. Cut 1
into thi Float
and mint on punch. If m
re very long, cut oll and
bottom ends,

bowl

ns
lemon slices

ı stems

п slice:

BARBADOS BOWL

1 fifth light rum
8 ољ. 15l-proof rum
В omediumsi

bananas
icapple juice
ns) frozen concen!

1 quart plus 12 ozs. pi
18 ozs.

(3 са ated
de

an mango nectar

ngredients except. bananas.
Cut 6 bananas imo thin slices and
place in electric blender with limeade
(concluded on page 150)

“But, Helen, it's American to want something better—
and I think we should get a divorce!”

PLACARE. KISSE
AND THE
MACA ROMTE
THAT STRUCK. BACK

the bedazzled eyeball, the numbed eardrum,
the scorched psyche, the pyrotechnic sport shirt—
all played an unforgettable role in celebrating
that glorious fourth in hammond, indiana

memoir

By JEAN SHEPHERD

1 THREADED MY WAY through the midtown, midday side-
walk traffic that eddied and surged over and around the
cluuer of construction paraphernalia. It was desperately
hot. My wash-and-wear suit clung to me like some rancid,
scratchy extension of my clammy skin. All around me New
York was busily, roaringly, endlessly rebuilding itself, like
some giant phoenix rising from the red-hot ashes of its
dead self. New York's incurable Edifice Complex blooms
mightily in midsummer.

Feverishly, I scuttled through shimmering waves of
asphalt-scented heat toward the cool, dark, expensive
decadence of my favorite French restaurant, Les Misé-
rables du Frites, little realizing that in another split second
1 was about to savor one of the truly secret subterranean
pleasures of the human soul. Elbowing my way into a
hunched line of prickly-heated city dwellers plodding
single file over a long-planked gangway, tightly jammed
ation and a line of throbbing.

between an enormous ex

brightorange engines of construction, I saw ahead of me a
short, stout lady wearing a damp flowered dress, clutching
a Bonwit Teller shopping bag in both hands. Ducking her
head low, she ran interference for me and those behind me
through the wall of ringing sound and metallic h

I had reached perhaps the mid-point of the plank р;
way, breathing shallowly the rising clouds of cement dust
bon monoxide fumes—a subtle mixture that forms

and с;

onc of the more insidious anesthetics yet devised, dulling
the senses and clouding the soul—and then it happened. It
was more felt, at first, than heard—a long, low concussi
pushing up suddenly from the gut and exploding in the

br like a giant comber on the beach of some lost, forgot-
ten sea:
KAARRROOOMMM!

For a split second the great concussion hung in mid

amd then, unthinkingly, my longdormant GI refl
galvanizing into motion, I hurled myself to the clapboards,
digging in as 1 landed. It was a direct hit! I clung to the
boards, waiting for the second round of the bracket, which

should come, 1 hastily calculated, off to my right. Suddenly
1 became aware of an insistent rapping on the back of my
neck, as an elderly citizen behind me croaked:

“Get up, you bum! If you're going to sleep on the

sidewalk, at least find a doorway!"

He stepped over me and sheepishly I regained my feet.
Up and down the line I saw other ex-Gls brushing them-
selves off and once again moving forward in the unending

PLAYBOY

stream of 20th Century man, bound for

God knows where. 1 peered down
through the haze of the great canyon of
lay just beyond the b

ades. And then 1 smelled it—the acrid,

m, familiar, naggingly pleasant scent
of dyn:

Minutes later Í sat pensively at a tiny
corner table of Les Misérables, waiting
for my luncheon daie to arrive and
vaguely conscious ol an indelin
sense ol nostalgic eupho
started immediately after the
operation at the construction. site.
sipped my drink, I found myself
about the first time Т had heard that

primal, soul-satisfying roar of exploding

- | knew

what had sparked those mins
of regret and exhilaration
of July! It had crept up on
unnoticed, unsung. unbombarded
morrow was the Fourth of July! In just
a few hours it would be the glorious
Fourth, and here 1 was without so much
as а sparkler t0 my name. 1 ordered an-
other drink and settled down deeper
into my eider-down bed of remem-
brances. The northern Indiana landscape
of my youth began to take form amid
the bottles behind the mirrored bar.
Somewhere olf in the distance, the con-
struction crew set off another dull,
thumping blast that jiggled the silver

are on my table, and it all began to
come back.

Dynamite, heat and excitement were
all intermingled in that Fourth. of July
ritual that has long since departed.
What is there about a solid, molar-rat-
ting explosion that sends the blood
coursing and brings the roses to our
cheeks? Nowhere was this indescribable
pleasure more honored and indulged
than in the mill towns of Indiana. I re-
member guys sitting on their front
porches, lighting sticks of dynamite—real
dynamite—and tossing them out into the
street, just for
back and forth
dynamite sticks, wl

h come about six
ches long, like breaking off a chunk
of a Baby Ri Scochtaping
le fuse on the end, they'd raise it
suitable flourishes to their cigar
buts—bbzrzzzz27—hold it aloft for a

split second, Hip it back by the garage,
d dive for the floor
KKAAAABBBOOOOOOMM!!
Windows would shater, crockery

would crash for blocks around, old ladies
would be hurled imo the bushes. bur no
one seemed to care. After all, the Fourth
is the Fourth.

s the stall of life to the
hillbilly of the day. He celebrat-
ed with it, feuded with it—even fished
with it. The sporting instinct runs
strong in the hills. When the fishing se
son would open, the river would literally
be aboil with TNT.
POOOOOOOOOOMMMM!

amie w

I would be
hundreds of
ig them w

The air for miles aroun
with cath
is elite field,
kets.

The more civilized celebr:
Fourth, however, blew th ef checks
in an orgy ol buying at the fireworks
Stand. The fireworks stand. Even setting
the words down on the page causes my
hand to wemble and my brow to damp-
en in delicious fear—the sort of fear that
only a kid who has lit a Aveincher u
der a С Milk can and hurled
himself prone upon the carth awaiting
the end can know, Cradled in the palm
of the hand, the fiveincher
cool rocklike cylinder of sinister jade
green topped by a vicious red luse—was
thing of cruel beauty. And that was
only a five-incher. Fireworks in those
days came in even more lethal and ex-
otic varieties. None, however, was more
potent, more awesome. than the ne plus
ultra of the fireworks world—the Dago
bomb. (1 d as an
ајан name. by the way, being
more pro ul thing else.) A thing of
exq sizes
inch.
and the sure death. In more elete circles
it was known as an "aerial bomb,” but
among real fireworks fans it was most

filled

nis of the

nation

is was never constru

site symmetry, it came in fow
the fiveanch, the eighrinch, the te

often known as "the Dago heister." lt
actually looked like these giant nonexist-
ent firecrackers that occasionally show
up in cartoons a red. white and blue
tube with a wooden base stained dark
cen, and a long red fuse
Theoretically, this infernal machine

was to be lit by an expert hand. It would
then explode with the first, or lesser,

explosion, whidh propelled an aeria
charge of pure white TNT into the am-
ient air, theoretically vertical, for sev

al hundred feet, and then—devastation!
ot once, but several times, depending
the size of the bomb. It was not
ap. the smallest going for fifty cenis
id the largest for around three dollars,

which in the days of the Depression was
truly a capital investment. The
sight of one of the larger specimen
the shelves of fireworks stand se
of excite through
s. Ht was truly the 1
а Dago bomb that played a key
role in the legend that was Ludlow Kis-
sel. Kissel found his rue raison d'etre in
the Depression itself. He worked in idle-
artists work in clay or mar-
ble. He was a true child of his time. He
as also a magnificent souse. The word
lcoholic" had. not yet о com-
mon usage, at least not in the steel towns
of Indiana. Nor were there any pompous
Freudian explanations for the insa
thirst that Kissel nourished. He wa
drunk. and that’s all there was (o it
He just liked the stuff, and glon
onto it whenever the occasion dema
chich was always And if the моге
boughten ty of lightning was not

and

ilable, he concocted his ow

»— using
ins, apricots, Fleischmann's yeast, mo
lasses and dead ilies.
Nominally, Kissel worked in
roundhouse ar the steel mill,
over 30 years had been on
board," being called only in extreme
emergencies. which occurred roughly
once every other month or so. He inva
ably celebrated a day of work by holing
up in the Bluebird Bar and Grill for
perhaps а week. and then would return
home, propelling himself. painfully for
ward on one foot and one knee. It took
him sometimes upwards of three hours
to make it from the street to the back
porch. At three ast, lying in my bed
room, it was kind of comforting to hear
Mr. Kissel struggling up the steps of his
back porch, inching painfully мер by
step

Thump (One).

Long pause .

Thump (Two)

Longer pause .

Thump (Three in a row!)

A split-second. pause, the

BUMP BUMP BUMP K. THU MP:

He's back at the bottom.

Many's the time I was hulled 10 sleep
by this inspiring drumbeat of dauntless
huni or braving overwhel

the
1 for
the extra

odds: Kissel trying to n

door. And then the voice of Mrs. Kissel
a proned Jady who
read True Romance voraciously. would

out:
h the steps, Ludlow, They're
She loved him.

Kissel. one Fourth of July, played a
leading role in a patriotic tableau that
js even today spoken of in hushed. rev
erential tones throughout the Midwest

It was ularly steamy, hellish
ly hot July. The housellies dung to
the screen doors amd the mosquitoes
hummel in great swarming clouds
among the poplar trees. It was in such
weather that Kissel reached his apoge

There was something about the birds
nd the bees and the hot sun tha
died Kissel's blood and stoked a
ble thirst for the healing gr
stocky. overalled figure rech
the twilight, leaving a wake of Hickering
fireflies, was as much a part of the sum
ner landscape as the Lull golden moo
Parishioners sprinkling their lawns would
nod uniliarly to him as he wove through
the fine sprav of the brass nozzles.

The fateful Fourth in question
dawned hor and junglelike, with
overhang of black, lacy storm clouds, A
few warm, immense drops splattered
down through the dawn haze, 1 know.
because 1 was up and ready for action
Few kids slept late on the Fourth. Even
as the stars were disappea nd the
sun was edging over Lake Michigan, the
first cherry bombs rent the stillness and
the first little old ladies dialed the police.
(continued on poge 154)

THE INVASION

fiction By AVRAM DAVIDSON

IT WAS AFTER HIS ESCAPE from the infamous E People that Balfour's usefulness to the Section came into question. Bal-
four, meanwhile, was in a bar, where he had ordered Irish on ice. Just on the corner, waiting for a bus, he had seen
what he thought was an A Person. He didn’t know if it was male or female, but of course it hardly mattered, not
even to another A Person, they were so timid.

He intended to go on to rye or bourbon alter the first drink, the milder drink. Nothing stronger than tea had
been available to him in the Section’s small, secluded hospital. The bar was clean and dark and quiet, and after the
second sip he asked the dark-haired girl if he could order another whiskey sour for her.

“Yes, you can."

He moved down the three empty stools and sat next to her. The frothy little goblet appeared and she started to
thank him, but then a shovel grated on the sidewalk outside and Balfour shuddered, gasped, spilled part of his drink.

"I know just how you feel,” she said. "It always goes right through me, too—sets my teeth (concluded on page 78)

the coming of the e people
had been an adventure in horror—

now he awaited the rest

UNGERER, YULSMAN/PAUL

&o0ouavwu1id

SYMBOLIC SEX

more sprightly spoofings of the signs of our times

humor By DON ADDIS

ELROYS Got THE
WANDERLYST AGAIN

You SHLD HAVE SEGN
ir BEFORE THE CENSORS
GT Нор of ir

SINCE HES Going OVERSEAS,
1 HAD To Give nim SOMETHING
To REMEMBER ME BY

JUST DONT LET НІМ GET
You ALONE iN THE
LockeR Room

1 THINK | CAN SAFELY
PREDICT іт wii. BE
А Boy

1 HEAR SHE HAS A
TERRIBLE REPUTATION!

о
oQ CANT You Mew

d THINK OF ANYTHING
EISE 2!

WHAT Do You SAY WE
MAKE А REAL NIGHT OF
it, Sieur?

PLAYBOY

INVASION (continued from page 75)

like on edge, you know."

Tasting acid, Balfour swallowed,
drank from his glass. "How the E People
mal sound, we don't know. They
are only superficially similar to us, after
all. It may indicate anger. Or pleasure.
Usually they are very careful 10 do no
more than mimic us. Perhaps there is
some subconscious, hereditary remem-
brance of the sound. Which is why per-
haps even the noise of a shovel grating
can have the effect it does. By which 1
mean,” he saw his face in the mirror be-
nd the bar, grimaced at it, “that at
some long forgotten time in human his-
tory there was possibly a prior contact
with the E People.

The dark-haired girl held the stem of
the cherry and plumped it up and down

while he was talking. Then she said,
“You sound like a professor or some-

thing. | never heard of any E People.
What are they? Oh, and I mean, you're
very kind to buy me this drink. I usually

never have more than one before lu
because I'm on a budget. What are E
People?”

Balfour said that he wasn't supposed
to tell her. “Fhe world is not yet
ready,’ to put it mildly. If 1 weren't still
so sick I wouldn't be talking about it at
all. It can't be what I really think it is, it
can't be. They think I'm cured, but I'm
not" His voice was somewhat uneven.

"The girl took a tiny bite of the cherry
and a tiny sip of the drink. “That's a
healthy sign, anyway, that you recognize

My mother, now, she was away twice,
‘once for almost а year and once for two
mouths, and the doctor there, he said to
us, ‘She recognizes that she needs help
and that's the first step toward recovery."
I'm not embarrassed to talk about it. It's
just like any other sickness, that’s the
way I feel about it.”

He shook his head. The glass before
him was empty. He looked at the row of
bottles for one with American label
nd a green revenue stamp, and ordered
a double. The girl with the dark hi
frowned slightly. “I hope you had a late
breakfast, or something,” she said.

“No.” He looked at her, feeling his
way. “1 suppose I should get something
to eat. But restaurants are crowded and
smelly.”

Very promptly she said, "There's a
Chinese place
it's not a restaurant, they put up the food
to take out. Do you like Chinese food?”

“AI right.”

“What they did to me, м
to me, what they did
His voice was rising and she put her
hand over his mouth. lt was dark,
though still afternoon, with the curtai
across the window on the

they did

drawn

shaft. They were both naked. It had
been a relief to him when she asked for
money, but although thís meant one less
thing to worry about, neither that nor
the other relief had lasted long.

1 can't let you stay here if you're not
going to be quiet, Bobby," she said.

7I can feel them," he whispered.

“More trouble with the super I don't
песа... but you're going to be quiet
now, a

There was a lipsticksmeared cup of
coffee on the crowded night table; he
shook his head when she offered it be-
fore drinking from it herself, but he
took the cigarette she offered next.

"You see, now, with my mother," the
girl explained, "she had this idea that Our
Lady was real mad at her because she
broke this promise. She wouldn't eat, she
wouldn't wash, she wouldn't go out
Anyway, like I say, she was in the hos
tal those two times, and they gave her
treatments and pills and now she's just
like she was before and she even goes to
church and every So what I'm
trying to say is. . time you
were in the hospital, maybe it didn't
cure you completely, but don't be afraid
to go back. The second time is lucky.”

He rolled his head slowly from side to
side.

“What's it all about, then?" She
leaned over and kissed him. "Want to
tell mei

A long moment passed while he stared
up at her and her questioning smile.
"Then he bega Ik. “This is my own
idea about it,” he said, finally. He sh
ed his glance to the burning end of the
cigareue. He shrugged, spoke more
quickly. “Aeneas fled from burning Troy
—yes? With his old father on his back.
No—better example. Something like a
barbarian invasion is taking place on the
outer edges of the galaxy. The Huns are
bumping the Tartars and the Tartars
are shoving the Gauls and the Gauls are
pushing the Goths. And the Goths in-
vade Rome because they have no other
place to go. Can you imagine what they
must be up against to seek refuge here?
We don’t know too much about them.
At first there were only two types and we
called them the A People and the B
People, Now the list has gouen as far
WES.

"Do you
about?”

She nodded, hall turned to get her cig-
arette from the tray. After a puff she
said, “Like, refugees. But how come
you're not supposed to tell?”

А look of pain and hatred and despair
passed over his face. "Oh, my God," he
said. "You don't know . . . the E People
... their metabolisms are so entirely
different from ours" Then he said,
“What How come? Ahh . . . it's а verse

know what Fm talking

from Coleridge, 1 th
you see, who's walking down a lonely
road at night,

‘And turns no more his head;

Because he knows a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread.

“That's how come. And that's how
much use it all is. The wave of the fu-
ture, ycah . . , I'm hot. I hurt I'm sick.

She asked him if he'd like something
cold to drink, with ice i

He s he would.
too.”

There wasn't any, but she agreed. with
only a little reluctance. to go and get
he promised to be quiet and not

ck,

n so sick.

The liquor store was a small one and
had just made its afternoon bank
deposit and didn't have change. The
man knew her and asked, “Where'd you
get a hundred-dollar bill?

"From the flyingsaucer people
said. He laughed, and so did she. In the
supermarket she looked to sec what she
could buy fancy enough (O justify
presenting the big bill, and in so doing
she forgot to look at the clock. The
checker wouldn't cash it when she finally
got through the line, and the manager
asked for identification and copied her
name and address from th
bill. together with the se
the money.

“This is a changing neighborhood and
I'm new here and I have to be
he said.

"Look at the time!” she excl

imed.

There was a bad smell and a funny
sound in the apartment. “Bobby?” she
led, her heart going queer. She hui
ried to open the bedroom door. “Bob-
by

On the bed. flaccid, torn and bleeding
from a hundred holes, lay the still-recog.
nizable outlines of what had been Rob-
ert Balfour. On the body, on the bed, on
the floor, on the walls, window and ceil
ng were the other things all like tiny-
tiny people. They seemed to grow, e
as she looked at them. And, even as she
looked, two more holes appeared on the
body and two more little creatures wrig-
gled out of them. There must have been
over a hundred of them. A sound arose,
like the piercing nighttime sound of
«cts.

"Bobby?
“Bobby?”

Powerless, stricken, she slumped for
ward into the room. Then, for the first
time, they seemed to sce her. They
turned toward her with one movement,
and from them now arose another sound
—harsh, shrill, raucous, like the noise of
a shovel grating on a sidewalk.

THE GREAT AMERICAN BUILD-UP

how business and political reputations aren't born, but made, when the drumbeaters шт fancy into fact

arlicle By MURRAY TEIGH BLOOM

THERE ARE in America today probably
fewer than 50 specialists in the art of the
build-up. All of them are public-relations
experts. Each of them has handled many
cases, but they don't like to talk about
their work. In fact, the subject of the
build-up makes publicrelations men
nervously uncomfortable. They now have
august professional societies with impres-
sive codes of ethics, and they look upon
the build-up as the first nonbarber sur-
geons must have regarded the old red-
and.white poles

Essentially, there are two types of pub-
lic relations. First, there's the old school,
whose practitioners see their function
as comparable to a good tailor's—who can
make your shoulders seem wider, your hips
smaller, your stomach less protubcrant;
raise your height two inches, and gener-
ally make Tony Accardo seem a slightly
unconventional but very friendly busi-
nessman. This type of PR is on the wane.

The current approach is practiced by
Earl Newsom—old Henry Ford and his
grandson are his two great monuments—
who says, in effect: "You must do the
right things; you can't fake them. As a
good PR man, 1 will help you develop
good policies and then I will talk about
them." This new PR man won't tell
you he can make you look handsome,
but he will tell you he can make you
interesting, hence newsworthy, hence
promotable.

The real trouble with the old school,
comments an acerbic critic, is that “just
one gaffe will destroy the built-up image
that’s been worked on for years, When
you've finally got the rich jerk looking
like Cary Grant, he turns up in brown
shoes at the April in Paris Ball. As a
matter of fact, that’s what killed Nixon.
He turned up in brown shoes—figura-
tively—when he blew his stack during
that famous TV interview in 1962. Good-
bye Checkers, goodbye cloth coat, good.
bye honest Dick.”

“The Great Man racket, which con-
sists of the inflation and labeling of
enormous stuffed shirts, is always with
us,” Stanley Walker wrote in his 1934
ssic, City Editor. "Some of the press
agents engaged in this calling confess
that it is the most soul-corroding way of
aking a living known to man." But it
is quite lucrative, and. Walker himself,
fallen on rocky times after leaving the

New York Herald Tribune, became part
of the racket. He did puff books on Wen-
dell Willkie and The
they were making th
Later he even did one on dictator Tru-
jillo—which must have been among the
most soul-corroding work ever under.
taken.

Assured of the anonymity of selves and
dients, a few build-up experts agreed to
talk of their exploits. Complete silence
is an unnatural state for most of them,
and I think several of them felt the need
to pour forth their ingenuities and de-
vices to a sympathetic listener.

The exact psychic origins of the desire
for the build-up are seldom explored by
the build-up experts. Once he recognizes
the visible stigmata, the PR man needs
only to know his clients avidity, thick-
ness of wallet and staying power. No
build-up expert would ever think of a
mere one- or two-year campaign. They
know—and the wiser ones tell the client
in advance—that for maximum results а
minimum of five years is needed. Since
the cost of the campaign will be some
where between $40,000 and $125,000 a
year, stick-to-itiveness here can
formidable sums.

“The build-up starts out," an erudite
fellow who is head of one of New York's

olve

‘build-up’ or ‘person
avoided with the deliberateness of the
great Oxford English Dictionary's ex-
cluding four-letter obscenities.

dient says: "E want a prog
connected with the corporation. If 1
have to make speeches and so on, you
can count on me, but only if it will help
my corporation and its products.’ When
he’s made that obligatory little speech
for you, he's said everything: You know
now he wants a personal build-up in the
worst possible way and is ready to spend
good corporate funds to get it. The
more he underlines only, the more die
build-up must be centered on him."
The older practitioners of the build-
up art used to insist on knowing in ad-
vance what goal the client had in mind:
General Big Man, Governor, Senator, or
even, in time, Presidential Possibility.
The modern operator seldom bothers:
For one thing, a serious plan would en-
tail admision by the client that he is en-

gaging in a longterm and expensive
build-up using corporate funds. Few are
that honest. One PR man insists: “You
must tell the client who he is, because he
really doesn't know. Once you've told
him, you have to define very clearly
where he wants to go and, for that mat-
ter, where he could go." This PR man is
exceptional. Most of the current build
up operations are designed only to get
the client aloft.

Once the intent is clear, the build-up
expert must make a careful assessment.
How presentable is the client? How well
does he speak? Is he better with crowds
Or small groups? (Governor Averell Har-
riman and Frank Stanton, president of
CBS, were built up successfully even
though they are terrible with crowds;
both are good with small groups.)

There are more basic considerations
for the potential buikl-upee. How well
does he register on TV? Does he have
abnormal sex habits or social peculiai

ties that might queer a build-up? Several
Hollywood male stars are good box
office even though known in the trade as
practicing homosexuals; so, for many
years, was one of the most famous of all
Americans operating out of Washington.

“When you start seeing a lot of pic-
tures in the press and magazines of the
build-upee surrounded by his loving
wife and fai I was told, "it can of-
ten be a way of squelching a rumor that
the guy's a queer. But if everything else
is right with the man, he can get aw:
with murdem After all, Thomas Jefler
(continued on page 112)

son was once

PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO CASILU

Above: At friends’ home, Goy gogs it up in Kost baggy tux ponts, then tokes her cue like o trouper ond strikes Choplinesque loser's pose.

GOING CONTRARY to the cogent advice of Horace Greeley, Ju
pleasingly proportioned (3623.35) Californian with keen hazel eyes for a dancing c
plans to go as far her talented. footwork will take her. Twenty-two-y
old Gay was born in New Orleans, lived in Guam and Nagasaki while her father
currently а North Hollywood atiorney—fulfilled his Service stint in the Judge
Advocates Corps, then gravitated to the Golden State where she has been dil
veloping her ballet and modern. jaz-dancing techniques for the past eight
she told us: “My first objective is to land a dancing role in a Broadway musical. After
all the ye * put in on toe shoes, I figure it's time I started making the rounds of
New York agents 1 putting some of that practice to work. Eventually, 1
wy out for one of the finer ballet companies, like the Ballet
let, and Гуе already put my Playmate-photo prize money in a
lcrina-or-bust' savings account.” Our artful July miss spends her few
ss nights decorating her new Burbank bachelorette pad in a Spanish Baroque

ure

offices and

hope to go to Europe ан
Russe or the Royal B
special overs
datel

motif, reading Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet and knitting ski sweaters (“Anything's
better than TV"). Her favorite kind of evening includes ne, а Peter
Sellers movie, and "a guy who doesn't try to make an impression. impressed.

CLOWN
PRINCESS

miss july is a pretty
californian

who plans to travel
east by stage

Below: Our clossic сиыр gives her pop-eyed interpretation of a one-girl Prussion marching band (lefi), then takes five [right] for o cup of coffee.

э
а
=

Top: Miss July proves thot she con be just as windy os the next girl, when it comes to blawing up decorations for her
test girlfriend's birthday party. "When | moke my move to Monhattan,” she confided, “I'm really going to miss the
crowd | grew up with here in LA." Balam: At party, Gay points out that “one candle means over twenty-one.

PLAY BOY’S PARTY JOKES

Two successful restaurateurs were discussing
business when one suddenly dropped his head
and solemnly announced, “Did you know
my married daughter is having an affa
s that so,” said the other, "Who's catering

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines happiness
as finding the owner of a lost bikini.

Jealously eying her next-door neighbor's new
mink stole, the young wife asked how she had
been able to afford such an expensive item.

Е bly won't believe it,” her neigh-
ut I saved up the money by
g my husband five dollars every time
we made love

"That night, when her husband tried to fon-
dle her, the young wife, determined to get a

ik of her own, promptly stuck out her palm
id demanded five dollars. Fumbling through

trousers, the husband complained that he
had only $4.50.

"For $4.50," she rejoined stubbornly, "you
can only sample my affection!”

After several minutes of extensive sampling,
however, the aroused wife realized she would
not be able to resist her husband's advances
much longer. In a final attempt to maintain
her newly acquired barga ng position, she
whispered in his car, “If it’s all the same to
you, dear, why don't I lend you fifty cents un-
til tomorrow?"

Then there was the 90-year-old man who tried
to seduce а 15-year-old girl and was charged
with assault with a dead weapon.

A wild-eyed man dressed in a Napoleonic cos-
tume and hiding his right hand inside his coat
entered the psychiatrist's office and nervously
med, "Doctor, I need your help right

сап see that,” retorted the doctor. “Lie
on that couch and tell me your prob

don't have any problem,"
In fact, as Emperor of Ë
erything I could possibly want:
women, power—everything! But I'm afr
wife, Josephine, is in deep mental trouble.
see,” said the psychiatrist, humoring

his
istraught patient. "And what seems to be her

1 problem?

reason,” answered the
happy man, "she thinks she's Mrs. Schwartz,

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines popula-
tion explosion as the result of so many over-
bearing women.

In the midst of one of the wildest parties he'd
ever been to, the young man noticed a very
prim and pretty girl sitting quictly apart from
the rest of the revelers. Ар фе ш her, һе
troduced himself and said, “I'm afraid you
id I don’t really fit in with this jaded group.
Why don't I take you home?”
said the girl, smiling up at him de-
‘Where do you live?"

The wealthy Frenchman's beautiful wife had
1, and while the husband stoically con-
trolled his grief throughout the funeral pro-
ceedings, the wife's lover sobbed loudly and
made an open display of his loss. The husband
observed this demonstration patiently and
then, when the services were over, walked over
to thc younger man, put his arm around him,
and said sympathetically, "Don't be so upset,
mon ami. [ plan to marry again.

<> ma

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines philan-
derer as a man with a perfect sense of two-
timing.

A recent survey showed that the nine out of
ten doctors. who preferred Camels have
switched back to women.

Heard a good one lately? Send it on a postcard
to Party Jokes Editor, eLAvnov, 232 E. Ohio St.,
Chicago, П. 60611, and сат $25 for cach joke
used. In case of duplicates, payment is made
[or first card received. Jokes cannot be returned.

E" асана

"BH. | TAND ;

“He can't go out tonight—he's being punished!”

THEMANWITH
THE GOLDEN GUN

this was it, the point of no return
for secret agent 007, the showdown in
the game that must culminate in death

Conclusion of the final novel

By IAN FLEMING

SYNOPSIS: When James Bond arrived at the Thunder
bird Hotel at Bloody Bay, Jamaica, he found there the
smell of new paint and Jamaican cedar—and also the
unpleasant aroma of death.

He had been assigned by M, his Chief оп Her
Majesty's Secret Service, to kill the notorious Scara-
manga, “The Man with the Golden Gun,” hired assassin
for Fidel Gastro and confidant of the hoodlum kings
of the Western world. Bond had tracked his prey through
numberless ports in the West Indies, and finally ran him
down in a Jamaican brothel. There he learned that
Scaramanga was planning an Apalachin Conference of
"international businessn at Bloody Bay, and needed
an assistant host in this enterprise. As “Mark Hazard.”
a slightly disreputable British insurance investigator
Bond got the job. s was sel the stage for 007%
final adventure

More than ever before, the odds were high against
Bond, but he did have allies. Based in Kingston was
Mary Goodnight, Bond's former secretary, now assistant
to Commander Ross, his predecessor as M's investigator
in Jamaica who had mysteriously disappeared; and two
CIA men—the ubiquitous Nick Nicholson and Bond's
old friend, hookhanded Felix Leiter, both posing as
employees of the Thunderbird.

At the hotel, an odor of high gangsterism arose from
Scaramanga's guest list. There was Sam Binion, of varied
and sordid background, who dealt in “real estate”,
Leroy Gengerella, of Miami, a big operator in “the
entertainment world"; Ruby Rothopf from Vegas: Hal
Garfinkel from Chicago; Loute Paradise, the Phoenix
slot-machine king—and, finally, Mr. Hendriks, “the
Dutchman,” representing what their host blandly de-
scribed as “European money.

Of them all, the mysterious Hendriks was by far the
most sinister. It was Bond's guess that no other man in
the Thunderbird could have challenged Scaramanga's
dominance

The conference itself was held in a locked room with
Bond stationed on guard outside. At his post, 007
placed the bowl of an empty champagne glass against
the door, put his ear to its base. and listened. He
heard Scaramanga boast of the murder of Commander
Ross. Then the killer described his plans to sabotage
the sugarcane market in the Caribbean and put the
heat on his gathered guests for increased “dues.” Whe:

Wounded, stunned and at the end of his strength,
James Bond staggered into the swamp—and
there was Scaramanga, blood-soaked, driven by

hunger and thirst, biting into the body of a snake.

ILLUSTRATION BY HOWARD MUELLER

PLAYBOY

one of them objected. Bond heard the
golden gun roar and a scream of terror
and pain—and there was no further
sound from the dissenter.

Bond learned, too, that “the Dutch-
man" was. in fact, resident director of
the Soviet K.G.B. for the Caribbean, and
that Gengerella was a Mafia chief. Bond
learned also that Scaramanga planned to
Hill him—at the proper time, of course.

At 3:30 the following morning, Bond
was awakened by a noise outside his win-
dow. I was Mary Goodnight, golden
hair aglow in the moonlight. She had
come to warn him: The hounds were on
the scent—they soon would learn his true
identity—and their quarry would be

Mark Hazard.

To calm her, Bond look his secretary

into the sanctuary of his unbugged bath-

raum, and to drown his voice, turned on
the shower.

“Don't worry about me. 1 think 1 can
handle the situation all right. Besides,
Tue got help. You just tell H.Q. you've
delivered the message and that I'm here
and about the two CLA men.”

He got to his feet. She stood up beside
hin and looked at him

“But you will take care?"

“Sure, sure.” He patted her shoulder.
He turned. off the shower and opened
the bathroom door,

A silken voice from the darkness at
the end of the bed said, “Step forward,
both of you. Hands clasped behind the
neck.”

Scaramanga turned the lights on. He
was naked save for his shorts and (he
empty holsier below his left arm. The
golden gun was trained on Bond.

BOND LOOKED at him incredulously, then
10 the carpet inside the door. The
wedges were still there, undisturbed. He
could not possibly have got through the
window unaided. Then he saw that his
clothes cupboard stood open and that
light showed through into the next-door
room. It was the simplest of secret doors
—just the whole of the back of the cup-
board. impossible to detect from Bond's
le of the wall and, on the other, prob-
bly, in appe ai-
cating door.

Scaramanga came back into the center
of the room and stood looking at them

both. His mouth y ed. He
said, “T didn't see this pi lin the
line-up. Where you been keeping it, bu:

ter? And why d you have to hide it
in the bathroom? Like doing it
the show
Bond said, “We're engaged to be ma
ied. She works in the British High Ca
missioners Office in Kingston. Cipher
clerk. She found out where 1 was staying
from that place you and 1 met. She came
out to tell me that my mother’s in hospi
London. Had a bad fall. Her
у Goodnight. Whats wrong
and what do you mean coming

under

cal in
тез M
with th:

busting into my room in the middle of
the night waving a gun about And
kindly keep your foul tongue to your.
sel." Bond was pleased with his bluster
and decided to take the next step toward
M podnight’s freedom. He dropped
his hands to his sides and. turned to the
girl. "Put your Mary. Mr.
Scaramanga must there
were burglars
window Dan ГИ get some clothes
on and take you out to your car. You'v
got a long drive back to Kingston, Are
vou sure vou wouldn't rather stay her
for the rest of the night? Im sure Mr.
Scaramanga could find us а sp:
He turned back to Sca
right. Mr. Sc: "

Mary Goodnight chipped in. She had
dropped her hands. She picked up her
small bag from the bed where she h
thrown it. opened it and be:
herself with her hair in a fussy, feminine
way. She chauered, falling in well with

hands down.

have th

Now.

Bond's bland piece of very British
“Now-look-heremy-manmanship.” “No,
honestly. - Е really think I'd ber

Га be in terrible trouble if I was
the office and the Prime Mit er,
Alexander Bustamente, you know
he's just had his cighuicth birthday, well,
he's coming to lunch and you kuow H

Excellency always likes me t0 do the
flowers and arrange the place cards and,
as a matter of fact,” she turned charm-
ingly toward Scaramanga, “it's quite
а day for me. The party was going to
make up thirteen, so His Excellency
asked me to be the fourte
marvelous? Bu
going to look like after
roads really are terrible i
they, Mr.—er—Saramble. But there it is.
And 1 do apologize for causing all this
urbance and keeping you from your
beauty sleep." She went toward him like

ter go.

nows what
tonight. The
parts, aren't

heaven

the Queen Mother opening a bazaar, her
“Now vou run along

hand outstretched
oll back to bed ag
(Thank God she hadn't James!
The girl was inspired!) "И sce me sif
off the premises. Goodbye, Mr., er
James Bond was proud of her. It. was
almost pure Joyce Grenfell, But Sca
nga wasn't going to be taken by any
double talk, limey or otherwise. She al-
most had Bond covered from Sc:
1. He moved aside. He
“Hold it. And you, mister, stand
where you are.” Mary Goodnight let her
hand drop to her side. She looked in-
quiringly at Sea as if he had just
jected the cucumber sandwiches. Real-
ly! These Americans! The golden gun
didn't go for polite conversation. It held
dead steady between the two of them
Scaramanga said to Bond, "OK, lll buy
it. Put her through the window
Then Ive got something 10 s
He waved his gun at the girl.
bo. Get going. And don't come tres

nd mv fiancé

said.

swiftly

ady.

g on other peoples lands again.
Right? And you can tell His friggin’ Ex-
cellency where to shove his place cards.
His writ don't run over the Thund
bird. Mine does. Got the photo? OK.
Don't bust your stays getting through
window.

Mary Goodnight icily, “Very
good. Mr, сг... | will deliver your
message. Fm sure the High Commission
er will take more careful note than he
has done of your presence on the island
And the Jamaican gov

said

wd took her arm.
vas on the edge of overplaying her
He said. "Come on. Mary. And
e tell Mother that ГЇЇ be through
a day or two and PH be tele
her from Kingston.” He led he
ndow and helped. or rather
bundled her out. She gave a briel wave
and ran olf across the lawn. Bond came
ay from the window with consider.
relief. He hadn't expected the gha
mess (© sort itself. out so painlessly.
He went and sat down on his bed. He
sat on the pillow. He was reassured to
feel the hard shape of his gun ag;
thighs. He looked across at Sc ,
back in the

Bond reached out
She

The man had put his gu
shoulder holster. He leaned up against
the clothes cupboard and ran his finger

reflectively along the black line of his
mustache. He said, "High Commission
ers Office. That also houses the local
representative of your famous Secret
Service. 1 suppose. Mister. Hazard. that
your real name wouldnt be James
Bond? You showed quite a turn of speed

i ihe gu ve

cies himself with the hardware. 1 abo
have information to the effect that he's
somewhere in bbean and thar
he's looking fo ny-coincidence
departme

Bond laughed easily. “1 thought the
Secret Service packed up at the end of
the war. Anywa id 1 can't change
my identity to suit your book. АП you've
got to do in the morning is

Frome and ask for Mr. Tony Hu

boss up there. and check on my story.
And cam you explain how this Bond
acked you
Mar?

chap could possibly have
down to a brothel in Sav’ 1
what does he w:

Searaman empl
for Then he said, “Guess he may
be lookin’ for a shootin’ lesson. Be glad
to oblige him. But you've got someu
about number three and a halt Love
пе. Thats what P hggered when I
hired yon. But coincidence doesn't come
in that size, Mebbe I should have thought
again. I said from the first 1 smelled
cops. That girl n r lancée or
she may not, but that ploy with the
shower bath. That's old hood's trick.
Secret Service one, too.
(continued on page 138)

And

a coi

y he y

"It's very romantic and all that, but don’t you
realize you're standing over an open grating?”

x > rd 4 iz y *
SUN FÜR YW WJ WSS
ÑW "^ LJ
ZA FOR TV.
rallying: an always exhilarating, occasionally manic autosport that combines competition with conviviality

Below: Morning muster finds enthusiastic rallyists putting heads together over instructional fine print while cor is given safety check by officiols
Above: On the road citer plotting out their initial course of action, confident couple in XK.E clip off mileoge in determined foshion

EE.

M ad
— ҖЩ

з Ë
=

sporls By CHARLES BEAUMONT

A NOTED AUTOMOBILE. authority once remarked
ed alone
de
build a second model just so there could be a

“The first car could never have rema
on earth for long. Someone would have h

race.

M the pundit had substituted the word “rally”
for “race” he would have been just as correct.
The rally (which, incidentally. should not be
spelled “rallye” —a form as archaic as "compleat"
—except when a particular event, such as the
Rallye Automobile Monte-Carlo, calls for its
usc). springing from a royalty blesed beginning
ion, is ful

а upper-class 1

wamingr
ly ay ancient and equally sporting as the more

spectacul
courses. It is a precision driving contest utilizing
public roads, and can involve ay many as several
hundred automobiles, cover up to 12,000 miles
ind deliver a'most any kind of thiilling experi-
ence the normal man might hanker for

In this country, rallies, as weekend pastimes,
have grown to amazing and, to some. alarming
popularity. Those who find cause for alarm in- : > S i

iras of speed hell on closed

clude highly civilized

alm Springs Indians, Above: Wild cow-posture cor jam occurred when uncertain rollyists followed on
dirt farmers on the plains of C; wild and

ў ошо thot looked os if it knew where it wos heoding. The blind were obviously leod-
domestic animals, seclusion-secking lovemakers, ing the blind. Below: One of the joys of summer rallying is olfresco lunch break.
ferryboat captains, game wardens, trout fisher = са

Wee; tae

men—all of whom have felt the drastic effects
of this particular brand of auto mania

1а takes а powerful influence to shatter the
lives and jor nervous systems of such an ilkassort
ed dutch of kith and kine as those enumerated
above, but a sally is the instrument with which
the job gets done

The dictionary defines “rally” in rather mu
dane fashion as “a coming together of persons for
common action.” But it also hints at the real

nature of such an event by including these de
seriptive phrases
disorder”; “to acquire fresh strength. or v
“an exchange ol blows”: and “to ridicule good
humoredly.” With a Ише imagination it can be
seen that the author of these definitions was ac
tually describing a rally wherein hundreds. of
automobiles and their crews "come together for
common action” against a highly complicated
set of driving instructions; foresceing that a cer-
tain proportion will be forced to “recover from
dispersion or disorder" afier having gone astray:
anticipating the need for "renewed strength and

a recovery from dispersion or

vigor" following the elon of shoving one's car
alder; decrying the "ex

between driver and na or

out of a muddy soft sh
change of blows
when Ielicity begins 10 fray under press
ing with those who “ridicule good-hu.
moredly^ the stragglers who come in hours alter
the victory banquet

Te may be dithcult for the uninitiated to see
how such a sport could sweep the country unless
ion enforced participation, but
o drumming, skindiving

drastic legi
like those who dig be

and goldlish swallowing. its devotees love their
hobby with a missionary fervor. We have found
rallies an exhilarat
petition, a worthy joust with time, speed and
distance, and, should you find yourself in a posi-
tion to indulge, consider it with an open and
youthful mind. On a pleasant Sunday after
noon, in the snug. leather-upholstered bucket
seats of a nimble sports car, with

form of automotive com

charming

Rolly equipment, clockwise from ten: Mileage calculator, $14, by Stevens. At-
tachoble sportscar timer, $45.60, by Racine. Stop-watch recorders: 1/5-second,
split-action madel, $72; 1/100-minute version, $48.50; 1/5-second model with 17
jewel precision movement, $145, all by Hever. (Below them: Two-button wrist
chronogroph, $111, by Gollet.) No-glore clipboord, $19.60, by Racine, with 12-hour
timer, $41.40, by Golco. Italian knit and leather driving gloves, $8.95, from Hoon.
Rapid calculator, $125, by Curto. Letters, 50¢ eoch, lorge numbers, 75¢, and small
ones, 50¢, all from Hoon. Altimeter, registers up to 15,000 feet, $9.50, by Airguide
Speedpilot timer, $89.50, ond Twinmoster distance measurer, $89.50, both by Holdo.
Above Speedpilot: Dynometer for checking brake efficiency, $29.95, by Bowmonk

Below: Crew of MG Sports Sedon decides to combine logging in ot check point with
some leg stretching. Shortwave rodio an officials’ toble broadcasts time signals.

companion at your side to share the challenge
and be drawn closer by mutual effort, it is guar
anteed to take years off your outlook. Later,
with cocktails and dinner, in the good fellow-
ship of kindred spirits and plenty of сх
conversation on the day's activities, it is obvious.
ly the Good Life, and trophies won or lost be-
come incidi

sive

"The mention of trophies obviously puts this

sport in the amateur class, and so it is with the
vast majority of the events staged in the United
States. It therefore becomes not too difficult a
game to play and the prerequisites are few: an
automobile (not necessarily a sports саг). a part
ner who can be (nay, should be, as far as any
red-blooded young is concerned) female, a
few simple and inexpensive instruments and an
ample quota of self-confidence. The
ingredient, it will soon appear, is of the utmost
importance. A rally, in the best tradition of
amateur competition, requires total self-reliance.
It is you against the pack—and may the best
ınan win.

st-named

Dictionary definitions aside, a rally involves
point-to-point driving over an exactly specified
route, maintaining given speeds to arrive at an
unrevealed destination at an unspecified time.
This is somewhat like solving an algebraic equ:
tion where both X and Y are unknown, but ral
ly experts become so skilled that they arrive
with less than a second of error over a 500-mile
course.

Lest this seem like a dry mathematical exer-
cise or an organized tour for little old ladies,
consider that these precise events are run in the
dead of winter through. the Adirondacks, across
Canada, or over the 11,000-foot passes of the
Continental Divide at speeds difficult to main-
tain even in the best weather. Others take the
entrants through the Everglades, up thé Chis
holm Trail, into Grand Canyon country and, in
fact, along nearly any highway, freeway, toll
road, side road, logging road and fire trail you
can find on the map. The top rallies have a
definite separational effect on men and boss,
and even the near-casual Sunday-afternoon out-
ings that end at beer busts or watermelon picnics
can involve some pretty hair-raising episodes.

The Affair of the Palm Springs Indians might
be cited in this connection, since it began in all
innocence and almost ended in a 20th Century
scalping festival.

This particular tribe had the commendable
foresight to settle on a forsaken piece of desert
real estate in California which they knew would
later become extremely desirable to palefaces as
a winter retreat from Eastern cold and Los
Angeles smog. Their reservation, although some
what eroded by the intrusion of palatial resi
dences, golf courses and luxury hotels, is still a
primitive, albeit well-financed, oasis. The In
dians enjoy a definite amount of privacy, and
the dirtsurfaced access road that meanders
through their domain is not frequently used.
Visitors are not molested, but are certainly not
encouraged. ‘The untraveled reservation road in-
trigued the rally committee of a Southern Cali-
fornia sportscar club, always sccking the

Above left: Cobro pilot looks resigned to his fote os eternal feminine in young lody couses her to poss up map interpreting in fovor of freshen-
ing her moke-up. Above right: A more athletic type of repoirwork occupies Porsche pair os blowout blows their chonces of coming close to pre-
scribed time for rolly’s finol leg. Below: A toast to the winning teom's loving-cup bearers o! cosval beer-both bonquet thot tops off rally big show.

PLAYBOY

olfbeat, sce ual to include in
an event.

‘The survey party, charting the course
some weeks ahead, encountered no op-
position or hostility and probably ig-
nored the fa t the Indians existed.
On the day set for the rally, the spar-
Kling, sunny fall weather attracted. an
unexpectedly large turnout and.
gly, half the sports cars
were at the starting line loaded with
high-spirited enthusiasts.

‘The red men, lounging on the porches
of their houses, which border the dirt
lane, were at first amused by the unusual
amount of trafhc as car after car hurled
by; but then, as there appeared to be no
end to this parade, began to be annoyed
as each of the mts stirred up a
cloud of dust which failed to settle be.
fore another unconcerned rallyist blast
ed along and added more topsoil to the
atmosphere. Finally, pale under the lay-
er of silt, and red-eyed with rage at this
violation and aerial dispersion of their
property, the Indians met in tribal
council and declared war on the automo-
biles. Making use of the weapons at
hand, they scattered nails, barbed-wire
fragments, broken bottles and
ross the road and sat back to aw:
loud popping noises that inevitably
followed.

After a goodly number of cars had
been halted at the booby-trapped section
and the frantic crews were hurriedly
jacking up their disabled vehicles, the
Indians sauntered out and invited the
contestants to take their rally elsewhere.
This admission of culpability in causing
the participants to lose the one commod-
ity which they regarded as more precious
than diamonds—time—and the impres-
sion that they were on а state highway
brought the rallyists’ tempers to a point
hotter than the desert sun. Another Lit
de Bighorn was almost precipitated,

nd only the intervention of club
Is managed to bring about the
ng of a peace pipe. There are some

er that if one more
is own aura of
dust, firearms would have been the nest
resort of the Palm Springs Indians and
that the U.S, Cavalry would have had
trouble quelling the well-hecled revolt.

Such sensitivity to the continuous
shock wave of passing cars at close intei
vals is not unique with our red breth-
ren; herds of sheep and cows have been
put to flight by rallyists roaring up farm
roads in the dead of night or early in the
morning, and irate ranchers have been
known to level shotguns at passing coi
testamts in anger and frustration.
lies, of course, are not continuous-
ly larded. with such encounters, and the
events staged in this country do not all
involve the supreme tests of man and
machine that characterize those held i
ts of the world, but they are le
we descendants of the Herkomer

Fahrt, an automobile trial of 1904.

ls successor, the Prinz Heinrich
Fahrt, which began in 1908, was the im-
cesor of the present-day Al-
pine Rally. one of the toughest and most
prestigious and the model for all other

п of royalty in these

inaugurated a blue
blooded or upper bracket miasma which
still persists, and the sport is generally

regarded. as something like yachting or
greyhound breeding in many places. It
Was necessary to have some kind of in-
fluence to get the pre-World War One
events on the road, since most cities and
villages had ordinances against "scorch-
ers” that restricted a vehicle's progress to
the pace of a man
something similar,
chauffeurs of that i were will-
ing to risk their necks at speeds perilous-
ly high in the 40-mph bracket. With the
assistance of Prince Henry of Prus
brother of Wilhelm II, Kaiser of Ger-
many, these safety regulations were
waived for the trials, and the Prinz Hein-
rich was named in his honor.

The Alpenfahrt was born simply be-
cause members of the Austrian automo-
bile club discovered an bable
moui road and realized that it
would make a superb rally obstacle—a
state of mind which still persists among
rallymasters. ‘The first Alpine attracted
236 of which 15 remained in the
contest after they saw the. Katschberg—
the 25-percent grade which so delighted
the committee. Five cars managed to
make the climb without assistance (rom
man or beast and their makers widely
advertised the fact. The result was that
within a couple of years the list was up
to 95 widely assorted vehicles ranging
from Rolls-Royce to Model-T Ford.

The Alpine, barring time out for
wars, has annually maintained its rep
tation as а car destroyer and a wringe
out of men. It imposes conditions so
dificult to meet that triumphs over its
twisting length are counted as manufac-
turing achievements as well as testi
monials to the durability of driver and
navigator.

International competition is not al
ways the eventual goal of amateur ral
lyists, but a certain percentage of those
whom you might encounter on а modest
dub rally around Weeh:
sey, might be pl
the future

ig a red flag, or

and the daredevil

specifically forbidden is perm
result, some of the contestants arrive at
the start with cars having electronic coi
puters worthy of МІТ coupled to speed
ometers and clocks, or a back seat full

of hand. or battery-operated calculators,
stop watches, 24-hour clocks, shortwave

radios capable of rec
sign

ng official time
om the Naval Observatory and
y device known to assist in rapid

mathematical equating this side of Al
bert Einstein, Such an accent on time.
and-distance accuracy, as opposed 10 the
harddriviug European-type rally, has
grown up because in most sections of the

country at most times of the year, the
roads are in excellent condition and
public officials frown оп turning our
highways into more of a racc course than

they already. arc
Oddly enough. the threat of a ticket
seemingly adds а bit of spice, and rally
veterans develop a separate sense which,
pened by participation in a hundred
brushes with the law, tells them where to
read lightly
Such avid enthu
iccomputer set, n

йаз» and the electron.
urally. form only the
hardened. inner core. Ranging outward
from that particle are the moreand.
more casual types until, on the outer. pe
phery, are found the seacof-the-pants
navigators and drivers who use the radio
merely to get ball scores.

Rally equipment of an intricate sort
will not replace common sense, and if
you have a tendency to get lost in tele-
phone booths, perhaps you had better
consider some less demanding hobby
However, if you are reasonably quick to
decide which is your left 1
posed to your right, and
working si
of addition, subtraction
you should at least give the sport a whirl
If you understand a slide rule or can
learn to operate a circular version of or
that is translated. into miles, time and
speed, you are in great shape for а tyro—
assuming you want to ме. If you
fancy yourself as one who can instinc
tively maintain а set speed and keep а
sharp eye for roadside details, it might
be the drivers side for you.
tion seems to be the fly in the
pudding for those who say they'd like to
go the route but are fearful, However,
а few years ago one of the best club ral-
lyists in Southern Calif bly
showed up in h TC
with

nd divisi

MG
pad of paper strapped to one leg,

itele

his wrist watch tightly wound and a slide
e in his carcoat pocket. Until thc
barred this Lindbergh type approach, be
cause somebody considered it dangerous
to read, wrie and drive at the same
e, the lone wolf was taking home
enough suitably engraved trophies to
stock a jewelry store. So, navigation
shouldn't be too much of a problem for

one unoccupied person
To азау that statement, N
ine the typical one-day rally so popu
in this country. The rallymaster, or
rally chairm: committee plot
out
survey it by
any real gutb
ments that would add too great
ment of luck to the running. Then it is
(continued on page 122

THE GAME OF [ IDE AND SEEK

the very reason for their passionate liaison held the seeds of its bittersweet impermanence
Jiclion By HERBERT GOLD

he thought, stretched out cooling by her fla
ning man who had drunk from a cool, temp
himself onto his thinking position

NEW YORK is for lovers, it's on their si
lover. He suffered the thirst of the y
There was salt on his tongue. He thru:

k; but not for this parched
g, secretly corrupted spring.
1 thought himself into a mote
at suddenly poured into the room through the blinds.
He left Helen, lovely Helen, fainting for only a moment into the damp trench made by her body in the bed; he be-
came mere idle dust; he floated; he swirled. It was the best he could do. No use trying to sleep.

The mote decided that New York is for lovers who need the thrill of fleeing from public into private excitement,
for those who flatter their pride in a daring, secret retreat amid the crowd, for the light and easy hand-holding
very young. These lovers rise beautifully to the sea-swell challenge ol the fantastic crested city.

Not Mike, wounded in his conjugal w Not Helen, whose bitter and cautious delight in Jove had helped
to make her an actress of rare quality. (^Ah'm the Queen of Oll-Broadway," she sometimes explained. "Ah'm
the Reignin’ Queen of the most irrelevant plays you ‘have ever seen. That don't scan, but it's true.”)

They were drunkards of love. They had taken their fill, yet needed more. How (continued on page 118)

of dust idly floating in the brilliant late-afternoon sunshi

Щз GIRLS ОР THE ША о

Left: Golden-tressed Arlette Dobson (Miss Englond, 1961), o London foshion model, shores poddle boc! with Swedish shipmate Uschi Bernell off
Carlton Beoch ot Connes. Below left: Bosom-deep bother Clorence Covieux, dromo student ond daughter of o Poris restouroteur, upstoges
Connes’ polotiol Hotel Corlton. Below right: Moterbooting off Cop d Antibes, monokinied bollerino Jode Moillol tokes eye-filling odvontoge
of recent French court decision ollowing topless beach ol

Bottom: Finnish film starlet Miriom Michelson reflects on latest St.-Tropez swimweor.

Below: Copenhagen coed Anne-lis Swensen adds impressive new dimensions [36-22-36] to the Riviero's bore-bosomed look in beachwear as she
enjoys o top-down ride along the Cannes Croisette. Bottom left: On vacation in Son Remo, winsome Rhinelander Inge Böhm, a professional
translator wha migrates to the sunny shores of Italy's Riviera di Ponente eoch winter from her home in Würzburg, is felchingly framed by netting
ot fishermen's dock. Bottom right: Noontime shopper Joselyn, a 21-year-old Cannes dental assistont, doesn't need local gendarme to slop troffic.

IF YOU BELONG to that international fra
temity of peripatetic young males who
njoy following the girls who follow
the sun, you'll find the Riv
drenched beaches and coastal highlands
the happiest possible hunting grounds
for the female of the species. From the
tiny seaside village of Le Lavandou, at
the western tp of France's resortstud
ded Cóte d'Azur, to the naval port at
Spezia, some 200 miles away on the east-
ermmost fringes of Italy's fashionable
Riviera di Levante, you'll always be
within arm's reach of an eye-filling array
of bikiniclad femininity, The Riviera’s
contingent of female sun worshipers is

a's sun-

almost as unlimited as it is uninhibited,
and the young male with a modicum of
loot can afford to be as discriminating as
he chooses in selecting companions with
whom to share his itinerary.

Far from being a homogeneous group.
the girls of the Riviera are as diverse a
collection of beachcombing beauties as
you could ever have the good fortune to
encounter. In fact, during the height of
the resort season, which extends from
сапу January through July, only a third
of the female population on the Cóte
d'Azur is even French bom. Instead, it's
the climateconscious northern Euro
pean girl and her adventureseeking
Amcrican sister who comprise the ma
jority of this international playground's
tanned-torso set. Not until late summer
do the majority of vacationing femmes
[rancaises flock to this Mediterranean

mecca of sunshine and seminudity in
search of a new skin tone and the right
male companion to admire it.

In addition to being the spice of every
man’s life, variety is one of the intriguing
ities that has helped make the Rivi
girl a creature of universal appeal.
She probably spends most of her year in
London, Paris, Frankfurt, New York, San
Francisco or even Minneapolis, Stock
holm, Madrid, Rome or Lisbon. She may
be a Balkan ex-princess whose parents
fled to western Europe before the Iron
Curtain was drawn tight, or the daughter
of a wealthy Oriental merchant who emi
grated from Indo-China when the French
army was defeated in 1954. Or she may
be one of the myriad aspiring actresses
who roam the Groisette at Cannes, hop
ing to be discovered by some interna-
tional movie mogul. She might be a
recent graduate of Stanford or Sarah
Lawrence whose unsuspecting father is
convinced that an extended Mediterra-
nean holiday is just what his little girl
needs to broaden her outlook. Or per-
haps she's the typically intense young art
student who annually pays homage to the
gallery exhibits at Antibes, Biot, St-Paul
and points cast. Her background and in-
tcrests are likely to be as unpredictable as
womankind itself. But whether the Rivi-
era girl of your choice hails from Seattle
or Saigon, dances at the Lido or clerks
for a stuffy (text continued on page 126)

Below: Aboard a friend's yocht in the harbor ot Portofino, Madeleine Arentoft, o delec-
toble Donish undergroduote from the University of Copenhogen, displays the kind of well-
rigged lines (36-21-36) thot have brought mony o mole to the Ligurian seaside. Studying
to become o librorion, this bookish beouty prefers well.reod to well-heeled moles.

Below, clockwise from top left: Chestnut-hoired Reine Rohon, 17-yeor-old video storlet from Poris, returns Io scene of her 1964 Connes triumph,
where she londed о TV film coniroct just minutes after posing ou noturel for film-testivol photogs; Hanoi-born Thoo Phuong, doughter of ex
Emperor Boo Dai of Vietnom, lends her inscrutable charms to St-Tropez white-sonded Epi Ploge; British monnequin Terry Borelle tries for ollover

ton ot Cros-de-Cognes; French movie minx Veronique Vendell (see In Bed with Becket, PLAY8Ov, Februory 1964) odorns ће strond ot Cop-Ferrot

Below, left to right: Hozel-eyed Christione Thiry, o Kotongo-born Belgion belle currently employed os o doncing instructor in the Conory
Islonds, eschews the use of customory bikini ot St.-Tropez` Tohiti Beoch; Milan model Héléne Urbini showers off after o doy s surfing in the Gulf
of Ropollo. Bottom, left to right: Connes hairdresser Jocqueline Luccioni, o 19-yeor-old nctive of the Côte d Azur, finds oflernoon sun over the
Croisette best for browning; Tania Bosset, on opulently endowed mademoiselle from Lyon, holidoys in Nice between semesters ot the Sorbonne

Left, top to bottom: Stotuesque Elen Stroetinga, o 21-yeor-old sculptor's model from Amsterdam, is hobitué of rocky coostline neor St.-Rophoél;

Parision pop chonteuse Cotherine Fronk, who recently mode film debut in Vodim's Circle of Love, catches 40 winks at Connes. Below, in three-
picture sequence: Viennese vacationers, blonde ond blue-eyed Renata Aldigeri ond her designing female componion, couturière Inez Beinhaver,
sample the local Ligurion vintners’ harvest, then bosk on beach ot Sonto Margherito before cooling off in the briny atop trusty woter cushion.

Below: On temporary leave from her undergroducte philosophy curriculum ot the Aix-en-Provence Lycée, redheaded Virginie de Solenn, o 16
yeor-old notive of central France, tokes five on the sends ot Colonque d'Éstérel between filming sequences of The Longest Night, in which she

ploys o bit port. Bottom, left to right: Pert Parisienne Cloudio le Boil shops for botiste ot one of the stylish boutiques olong St.Tropez weterfront,

sun-worshiping Swiss miss, Josick de Cupper, full-time lob ossislont ond porttime Europeon cover girl, hos o penchont for cigorillos ond the seoside

Below left: Born ond roised in Algeria, where she taught French to elementory school children until two yeors ago, Simone Doro! represented
France in the 1961 Miss Universe contest ot Miami. Now a full-time droma student in Nice, she hopes to develop her tolents os a comic actress.
Below right: Denise Perrier, whose father is mayor of neorby Fréjus, sips on aperitif at the elegont Eden Roc Hotel in Cop d'Antibes. Bottom
Andelo Krejci, a 20-yeor-old British ballet student from Strotford-on-Avon, does her sunning—sons suit—on o secluded strond outside St.-Tropez

Below left: Titian-tressed Christione Pavesi, an haute couture model from the Left Bank, attracts o crowd of mole admirers ot the cosina in
Cannes. Below right, lop to bottom: Corrine Bedu, a successful Poris fashion designer who recently toured the Middle Eost alter jetting to
Beirut for o special showing of her latest line, is o dimpled devotee of less-crowded сооз! o! Miromor; Tunision-born Simone Bovinch awns her
own Si.-Tropez boutique, teaches Bedavin folk dancing on the side, ond shows fine form (38-23-37) even while sitting out o frug at local baite.

Below, left to right: Eva Schouloud, Polish-born émigré from behind the Iron Curtoin, now mokes her summer home ot Portofino when she's not
disploying her abundant [39-24-39] ossets in the Corps de Ballet ot Milon's Lo Scola Opera House; Florence Fougere, o comely Connes bikini
model ond avid off-hours go-carter, prefers privacy of her own sun deck. Bottom, left to right: Cloire Davidson, a 22-yeor-old donseuse at o
Liverpool discotheque, tokes her leisure of Ste-Moxime pod; Annie Pouliquen, a nurse ond amateur shulterbug from St-Malo, weekends at Biot

Below: Coron Gardner, o generously proportioned [38-24-36) London video vocolist ond o prominent up-ond-comer in British cinemo, hos
londed speoking ports in such flicks os A Hard Doy's Night, Yellow Teddy Bears, A Shot in the Dork, ond prefers orty otmosphere of St.-Paul-
de-Vence for her onnuol Riviero retreot. Typical of the filmic femoles who frequent this quiet inlond spo, Coron comes to the Côte d'Azur
to escope bright lights of the moviegoing milieu, spends her holidoy dobbling in oils ond poring over on unread backlog of mystery novels.

“Well, you've finally
convinced me, Mr. Wyngate.
I'm ready to throw

in the towel.”

Ribald Classic
from the folklore
of the Magyars

the
choice

of ilonka
the chaste

WOE CAME TO THE LAND wh the ancient

town of Buda was besieged by Turkish hordes
isons held firm.

y
r supply, the most vital factor to con-
tinued resistance, was depleted to an extent
that brought desp

and only а few scattered 9

Food ran low; but worse, the communi

wati

ir to the hearts of all
In one of these tiny garr
surv

few pitiful
n

ors fought on. brave
disguised himself as a woman and then went
forth to reach the waters of the Danube that
meant lile to his companions. He gambled
that not even the fierce Turks would kill a
woman in cold blood. But he had hardly
gone more than a few paces from the shelter-
son when an arrow pierced his heart.
The disgui

—it failed

" sighed an aged
leader of the survivors.
Then 1 shall go for water,” volunteered
Honka, fairest of all the virgins of Bud:
“Never!” The leader shook his head. “The
Turks would think you but another man in
disguise and kill you with their shalt
"Then Is
Despite the protests (some of them feeble)
of her companions, Honka stood fast. She
commanded all to avert their eyes as she
completely unclad and love-

all go without the robes"

disrobed. Ther

ly as the dawn itself, she stepped forth into
the sunshine to face the hated foe, carrying
two empty water buckets

As the sun gl
revealed a magnificent figure that even priv

med on her golden skin, it

tion had been unable to harm. Her rich

curves gleamed and sparkled in their newly

found freedom. In truth, she seemed more
goddess than thirsty survivor.
Not a sound came from the enemy as she

moved br:

ely toward her goal.
bent forward and drank
filled the buckets.
of a reflection othe
ar water. It was that
. Like Honka, he
nd only after

At the river, Hon
fil. Afterward she
Only then v

her

she aw;
u а he d
of a handsome voung T
was nude. He moved swi

п her owr

i
x thirst had been slaked did he
nions’

his particu

permit Honka to return to her comp;
Tedoubt with her two brimming buckets of
water, There the survivors gratefully gulped
the clear liquid, but the leader bade them
spare one full bucket:

that poor Tonka will not have to walk

in among the uncouth fo
“That evening, as the garrison slumbered, a
figure arose from among the sleepers, stealth-
ily moved to the precious bucket of water,
carefully lifted erately
emptied it on the thirsty earth.
Looking about to ma

and then deli

е certain. none had

observed, the figure quickly stole back from

whence it came and lay again upon the
ground. As the moon suddenly filtered
through the clouds, the light revealed the

features of the one who had dumped th
vital water.

the lovely young Honka herself. A
faint, anticipatory smile played over her full

It w

lips as she dreamily stared at the moon over-
head. For tomorrow was another day.
—Retold by William Danch Ell

111

PLAYBOY

AMERICAN BUILD-UP

publicly accused by the president of
Yale of being a rapist and John Quincy
Adams was publicly tagged with pr
young American girl Гог a Russi
nobleman.”

Today we live in an even easier
and build-up men don't worry unduly
bout a clients private lile—as long as
he conducts himself with some discretion

“What often happens is that the
ch for power and fame by these
." point out a leading PR expert,
"replaces the sex drive to а great degree.
Oh, they fool around a little, but hell,
who doesn't? As long as he stays out of
the tabs and the company profits don't
disappe
ing the build-up.”

One man has handled many

build-ups employs a simple litmus test in
fixing his fec. "In order to find out how
tough a job its going to be, Í first suggest
the man as a possible speaker to the
New York branch of the Security Ana-
lysts. Assoc If they're enthusiastic,
I know he and his company have possi
bilities. If they have trouble catching his
c, I know I have a tough one and I
¢ the fec or beg off.”
There are other basic items to uncover
sociates: What papers
zines does he really read? АП
of them say The New York Times and
Fortune, but that's what they think is
expected of them.

Another expert discussed the methods
employed by most of them in making
their cliem bigger tham life-size

“L will first arrange to have him invit-
ed as a speaker or a panel member at a
mecting of the American Management
Association: or, if his interest is in get-
ting to be a big man on international or
forci utters, we would try for a
spot at a Council on Forcign Relations
Pan Amer Union meeting.
Those first speeches we write for him are
the key ones. They're designed to create
stir, to be eminently newsworthy. Of
course, we want clips as а result of his
speech, but more important, we want
his comments to be remembered by oth-
ation executives and heads
of various national organizations. When
they cast around for speakers for future
meetings we want them to think of our
Once you've got a mı ached
right, there's a big self generating factor
at work for you. Fortunately, there are
rations in the

ge,

it's not

major problem du

who

trade n

or a

er trade-assoc

country th
nual conve
they don't have to pay for

Occasionally the build-up men have a
ler who writes most of the speeches
for clients, but more often

t need spe

ıs prefe

si
needed

lig they're assigned to professional ghosts—

(continued from page 79)

who get anywhere from $750 to $1500 a
speech

There are a hundred headaches
here,” a build-up expert said. “Usually
the client comes to us having head it
smatiering about Washington sand
how Eisenhower won the election with a
1 cn by Emmet J. Hughes (If
elected, I shall go to Korea). Or how
John Kenneth Galbraith wrote that
great line for Kennedy, ‘Let us never
юне out of fear; but let us never
niae” So he tells us: Get me

somebody to give me some great lines
t

like that. Or he decides that Preside
Johnson's style of short, choppy sen.
tences is for him and why c
someone like George Reedy or Jack V
lenti to write the stuff. We nod amiably
nd react as if he's come up with great
penenajúng insights and then when we
figure we've allowed him to impress us
enough with his inside knowledge, we
get down lo business. We discuss possi-
ble subjects for his speeches and inevita-
bly we find that he wants to talk
something that's of interest only to his
branch of the industry, or he really
doesn't have a thing to suy. So we usui
ly start from scratch. There's always the
temptation 10 s audiences
the things they want to hear over and

pout

give busines

over again: attacks on big government
and wasteful spending or rising taxes.

But those th)
man.

gs won't get space for our
Everyone says those things. We
have 10 find a new approach for him
and even a new way to sw iL The
month were geting up his first few
speeches is when we really earn our
keep.
Basically, the speeches the client
makes will depend not so much on style
or delivery, or even on the groups he
talks to, but on content: What docs he
say that’s newsworthy or qu
worth r These qua
him space, fame and further invitat
10 speak. And that’s what he's paying for.
One veteran busincssspeech ghost
who has participated in several build-
ups said: “Before 1 do any w
study the client closely: What ki
voice range, inflections and speech prob-
lems does he have? Everything has to
be tailored pretty much to his cur-
rent equipment, because once you start
talking of ‘voice training,’ you're in a
ticklish area; its pointing out an imp:
fection to a man who has a few million
bucks. So to save time all around, you
give him simple words that he can't
mispronounce and you hope he really
practices his speech so that he’s just not
going to read it word for word without
ever looking up.”

peating:

In the carly stages the buikl-upce goes
through his speeches carefully. changing
a word here, a line there and occasional
g a funny story he once heard in
someone else's speech. “These guys usual-
ly don’t know how to handle humor о
ny line, but they hear othe
people get yoks and want some, 100,”
one expert said. “But then, he's no worse
п some of the Washington characters
а month the Gridiron Dinner:
The re expected. to
keep them rolling with special quips.
Once even President Kennedy had the
whole White House staff producing
for a short, funny. off-the-record speech
at the Gridiron Dinner. But at least
dy knew how to handle a funny

ly addi

before
hono

ed guests

y to overcome the obviously
prepared and read speech is to make
spontaneous departures from the text.
This, of course, is also prepared and re-
hearsed in advance. No one wants a rep-
cution of the inadvertent frankness that
overtook former Secretary of Interior
Douglas McKay when he was campaign
ing for a Senate seat in Oregon. After
bumbling through а prepared and rou-
tine oration, he put his manuscript aside
and spoke up with renewed umbre:
“And now ГА like to say a few words of
my own.”

Not only the first speech, but the first
impression the client makes on the press
is of great importance. The buildup ex-
peris tell and retell the leson of the
Hubert Humphrey haunt. When Hum-
phrey first went to V
aor i

“glib and gabby freshmai * For
the nest decade those adjectives inevita
bly found themselves in almost every in-
terview with Humphrey—because most
newspaper writers look at the clips be-
fore writing. Some experts belicve the
ng reiteration of those words
Iped keep Humphrey from getting the
1960 Presidential nomination.

Recently the builder-uppers have been
cultivating the national advertisers (such
as Blue Cros, Northeastern Insurance
and Bell Telephone) who key their pro
grams around some leading corporation
president who favors their product or
actually uses it. "ls like the movie cross
plug," an ex-Hollywood fack pointed
out. "We lend the prestige of our man
and they provide thc space and the copy
И vou shop around you can find a lot of
tie-ins for your client and they don't cost
you a cent. Great stuff.”

Many of the wicks are not q
straightforward. One
what he calls his “fire
for several build-ups.
smiled, “is to create trouble then
have your man solve it. How? OK, in

te as
xpert has used

“Oh, splendid. Here comes Munro with the olives.”

113

PLAYBOY

114

this industry we have a friendly union
leader—1 do favors for him and he recip
rocates—and we arrange a little quickie
wildeat strike in our client's industry but
not at his plant. Things look very black.
but our man goes in and smooths the
waters magically. The wildcat strike is
Ovcr—and who gets the credit? Of
course. You don't even always need a
solution, Just have your man create wcll-
publicized alarms and fears and hell
make the headlines.

The build-up men usually have a
Washington office or associate. A chance
for a client to testify before a House
or Senate committee hearing is av
sought.

“This serves several purposes,” one е
pert pointed out. "We can work up a
pretestimony statement that's handed
out in advance to the press. We uy to
get ina really newsworthy comment that
will make news and build up o
But even if it doesn't make the papers
big, our client loves to be able to te!l his
pals at the country club: ‘Oh, the Senate
asked me to come down to Washington
to testify on the widget industry.’ Real
‚ of course.”
The Johnson administration's encour-

man.

ment of American exports to im-
prove our bi'ance of trade has helped
the build-up m

“It's become quite a

thing, this big

E for Export which (he plant can
fly from its stack and ће president
can frame in his office.” 1 was told.

ce a lot of smaller firms, say with
$10,060,000-ST5,060000 or
dnetion, seldom have any forci
kets, i's no great trick for them to
up soe foreign sales. The beauty of it
is, since they start with almost nothing.
any increase is apt to be a very high one
percentagewise, and that’s what they're
making these E awards for. So, my
man, following our advice, gets an E
in Washington Title luck
we'll have him to the White House for
а handshake. Automatically he's a big
nan in his state by this time.
The build-up man knows that after
he's run through his preliminary bag of
tricks he has to shift gears—because his
client will be inte
just space-grabbing. By the second year
he wants more substantial confirmation
that he is n. He
nis honors—plaques and awards that
1 his big private office.
If he's become too controversial in his

less in pro

and with

ested in than

becoming a big m

MARRIAGE
COUNSELOR.

grab for fame, these approved executive
gralliti may be difficult to come by. “The
list year’s gone fine.” one of the builder:
uppers explained. "Now in the second
year he wants solider recognition, Since
he may not be quite ready for the higher
accolades such as being invited to lunch

n the private dining room of Time
Tuc. with Henry Luce, or getting invited
to the Gridiron Dinner in Washington.

or being ner guest at the White
House—and I'm not ready to have a
book ghosted for him—we have to seek
out а flock of lesser substitutes: awards,
prizes and honorary degree:
First come the simple prelim
low license-plate number in the states
that still go in for this nonsense. Several
have made (he lownumber plates a
source ol extra state income by putting
special assessments on them, but still
they are desired as а symbol of status.
The build-up man c et these without
too much trouble: Over (he years he has
built up allies in strategic state capitals.
His annual 518,000 Christmas. gift list
i gen
leading fight clubs—United’s
100,000 Mile Club, American's Admirals
Club, TWA' Ambassadors and Pan
American's Clipper Club—are na great

hurdle for a top executive. Mostly they
enable you to use spe ing rooms
at leading airports to put their

membership plaques on your office wall
Membership requirements for all "clubs"
are quite elastic, calling for “personal
interviews” or "contributions t0 avia-
tion” and, of course, lots of flying.
‘There are some a Imost openly
for sale. Опе for businessmen given
every year, and fairly well publicized,
has a telltale stigmata, The top three
of the ten awards are to obvious Some-
bodies. But the remaining seven are to
“Who-he?” types whose build-up men
have kicked in a modest 51000 or $1500
for the kitty, plus an indeterminate
larger sum publicizing the fact that the
awardee has received the prize, By this
extra promotion on the part of the seven
unknowns, the value of the prize should
be even higher the following year. It

t always logical. but PR often isn't.
De Gaulle has become one of the
buildup mens favorite Frenchmen.

When he publicly instituted a thorough
overhaul of the French Legion of Honor
awards, making their distribution much
more restricted, he created a read
excuse for the build-up men who are in-
long about the

vari,

ply pressed for it

second or third year of the clients rise to

re, 1 don't think
itll help you to have an award from De
Gaulle when we are ready for Washing.
ton.” And Washington almost always
figures prominently in the clients pans
Still, a French award is valued and the
build-up boys can work out an Honorary
Citizen of Paris dcal when the client

se from

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goes to France, At a small but impressive
ceremony he gets a beautiful medal and

an engraved certificate: Parisian chari-
ties are always grateful to foreign donors.
Inevitably, the next step for the

hooked addict is the honorary college
degree. This calls [or some finesse, con
siderable time and usually lots of money.
One build-up man, adept at the art of
what he calls “snagging the H. C. crap"

the degree is labeled honors cansa—de
tailed his most recent success:

“This client was a sell-made man who
built up a large business connected with
certain engineering item. When he
came to me, he said that he had decided
а buildup would be cheaper than psy-

choanalyss and if I did my job right
he'd have something to show for it. In
his second year he decided he was ready

lor an honorary degr

neering, college.
"E knew this couldn't be one of those
cockamamie. mailorder colleges. It. had
to be real and reputable. D looked
around and gor im touch with the de-
partment head in a certain Eastern engi-
cering school 1 talked vaguely of my
benevolent tendencies toward
g- How he's dying to do some
y students. We dis

hom an engi

clients

thing for engince
cussed the possibility of his coming
down for a talk on his specialty to sen
iors.. piece For the col
leges e g je It was quite
vagu Ш through it I kept stress
the great benevolence that welled up

in my Шу, at the fourth ses
sion with ıJ dei
for 1-0-1." (He explamed quickly

7 Yiddish for buttocks
опаһечаЫе. Since the PR man w
genuine white Anglo-Saxon Protes
tant. P could only marvel at how ce
tain Yiddish expressions h
a lingua franci among N
"communicators.")

“L did it with a throwaway linc. "You
know, it would be wonderful if we could
yet him an honorary degree.” There was
ке. H the pause went beyond ten
s in trouble. But after no

“Tochus оу] tish

“4

d become
ew York

a
seconds 1 wa

more than five, the beautiful words
came: ‘Thats worth looking into. |
was in. Later 1 found out how much

0.000. It
deductible dollar to my clien

Other buildup men 1 spoke to work
through the college vice-president in
charge of development, a higher-learn
ig euphemism for fund raising. Some
had worked deals for as little as 55000,
bur the average seemed to be in the
00040-575,000. range. 1
few years of giving. About

wis worth every tax

often

out over
half of the 3000 honorary degrees award-
ed cach June are obtained this way. OF
course, when you're a certified big
things are much easier.
Benevolence has always been

nan,

116 route to prominence in America, but

direct. gifts—unless they run into. the
millions—are hardly likely to rate a
frontpage story. However, with some
ation, even far smaller gifts are
likely to be remarkably effective.

"We had this client who wanted to
ve away $50,000 to charity," 1 was told.
But he wanted the money to bring the
kind of results. that a million bucks
should bring. A real challenge. So we de.

cided to use an old, useful technique: H
you can't get a prize. give one.
"We worked out an annual prize

award for outstanding work in his field.

We give two awards of 51000 each and
the administration. and presentation
luncheon and judging costs run to an

other $10,000 à yi

. But for his 512.000,

look what he gets: First, his name is on
the award, The award gets reams of

good publicity every year. À lot of busi
essmen try to get on the judging com-
mittee. so that gives my man a lot of
wading leverage for any favors he may
want from diem. Then finally, w
reputable college administering the
awards—which mei of course, that
the least they can do for my man is give
him an honorary degree, because the col-
lege gets a lot of publicity cach year
when the award is announced. Any time
We want to switch colleges we can easily
pick up another honorary degree for
him.

Nondeductible, but even more potent
in the build-up process. can be the polit
wal donations. As everybody. knows, in
ihe old days the party fat cats could
an ambass; ial or ministeri:
post. The Kennedy Administration. put
more prolessional forcignservice officers

have a

lor

the posts, And for the first time
American history, three magazine wr
John Bardow Martin, William

wood and Edward М. Korry, who had
helped write speeches in the 1960 cam
paign—were rewarded with embassies
Today a certain number of posts are still
earmarked for the big givers who want
the honor of being called Mr. Ambassa
dor long after the ceremonial return
from ‘Timbuktu or Kabul.

А leading New York PR man
does а lot of work for foreign gove
ments, spelled out the requirements:
Naturally, it takes a
and work to make a man
Venezuela,

who

lot

ambassa
ambodia,

Liberia or

му,
than to get him appointed to Rome

The essential requirements are that he
poses a reasonably clean record. most
of the social graces and a lot of money,
For the lower echelon he will need at

least three: to five-hundred thousand dol-
avor

with

lars to be spent on the end
about a fourth of that go)
pa Far London, the
Сош of James’s—the diamond
studded brass ring on this carrousel—
several millions are needed. In addi
the honor will run into several hundred
thousand of his own money in ente

n contributions.

Saim

Roni

ent costs once he gets i

next in line for social position and
prest s demanding
financially, Paris, which used to be on

a par with Rome, has recently. become
less glamorous and more the spot for
professional."

Increasingly. men whose build-ups arc
led with sizable political contributions
scem to be less interested
posts. “If power and prestige are what
you're after,” one commented, “taking а
foreign post is a form of exile. The pow
cr center is here, never there. They can
forget who the hell you are real fast
when you're holding the fort in 1

the fore

res

ty contributors there are
many positions of prestige and some im
portance right in the U.S. These posts
are particularly desirable, because they
do not require the full time of the
appointee. There are chairmanships of
various commissions, Presidential com-
mittes, posts as consultants to cabinet
members and various kinds of member-
ships on U.S. committees working with
d in the UN. Nearly all of these a
ved without pay, but are much sought
after. Many of these entail interesti
social obligations; others call for a yearly
foreign wip in which the Presidential
appointee is treated with great care by
the embassy staff. The best Washington
estimate is that re 500 700 of
there desirable parttime appointments.
There is a more important considera
tion even if the build-up candidate has
money to spurn. “The most likely busi
ness type to go into politics is an execu
tive who is over fifty,” I was told by an
officer of the Effective Citizens Organiza
tion, a nationwide bipartisan group in
whose purpose iw to get
ican businessmen involved in poli
tics “He has contain. disabilities: He is
usually friendless her party and is
ignorant. of issues, illinformed and dis-
interested. Once he has decided that it
might be nice to go into politics, he is
convinced that it can be bought via pub.
lic relations build-up, and. that all pols
pid bunch anyway
Id-up experts finally
de him that elective office is
other game entirely, he ca
First he has to get the support of s
twenty people in the party who really
count. And before he can get their sup-
port, his voting record is going to be
taken apart. И he's been an independent,
ad, plain dead. No independent
le it on the state level or

For these p

ssy

there

his bu

persu

start p'ayi

ion for fur
likely to be a min
mum of two years of hard work e
the party—plus campaign gifts in accord
with his ability to give. He supports the
party's candidates, pro; ad plat-

ams

forms and gets around to the hundred-
dollar dinners, Once he has been cased
in, then the PR build-up job is in order.
But even here he has to coordinate it
with the p: ind be careful not to dis-

y
lodge men who have worked in the party
for years and perhaps don't have the
money he does. He starts low: assembly

candidate, state senator maybe, or even
mayor, These are natural jumping oll
points for higher offices. When elected, he
can put on all the build-up steam he can
allord. After that, anything is possible,”

Perhaps because there are so few of
them, the build-up men often speak with
great respect of the men in public life
who do not allow the

elves to be

Idup vortex. The
of the sporting-
lam who bowed with respect
t virgin pass

when the tow

They point to Frederic С.
rman of General Motors, the world’s
nufacturing corporation, who
blicity and al-

conferences.
sident of Pan
ican World. Airways, is
his refusal to take part i
psycliodrama.
don't need it: they

The build.

the build-up
Admittedly,

ready big me
p is likely 10 remain part
and subliminal Ameri
nc tO come. It obviously

for a long t

fills a great psychic need in a land that
honors and titles. (A recent
Gallup Poll showed that 70 percent ol
all Americans favored some kind of ofl-
Gal honorary system.) Perhaps, thong
as the mechanics of the build-up become
more transparent to a more sophisticated
public, fewer men will want 10 endure
the expensive five-year ritual, Such stead
fast abstainers should themselves be r
warded. Instead of adorning their offi
Hs with dubious honors—American
1 foreign—they should hang there
the works of some of the better French
impressionists. These have had thei
own great build-up—and they're still

PLAYBOY

nig er. Then it coupled

HIDE AND SEEK (continued trom page 97)

could this man and this woman do more
for cach other than pleasure?

If Mike Curtiss could have lacked for
women, it would have been beuer. He
might have dreamed of love, and then
found a girl (almost every man does),
nd then put together fact of girl and
dream of love.

mote wri

100? The
r like a pale spi-
felt himself growing
his body again alter the

ong way,

Mike

roche.
heavy, becomin
flight of love.
Again Mike told himself that the trou-
ble was his own fault—the sins of moony
dolescence visited on his moony age.
Dreaming too hard first was his flaw. As
the drinker scratches a dry tage for obliv-
ion imo his heart, so he had raged
through women for some ideal of perfect
b perfect sweetness, perfect perfec
me like that,
Mike?" onc frightened girl had asked.
“1 don't know, lady. You like to be
looked
Had he not earned his trouble? Yes.
But now Helen, lovely Helen, who asked
him: “Why do you look at me like that,
Mike?
7] don't know why. kid. 1 love you."
“Well. Well. Well, I like to be looked
at like that, Mike. You
He did not need her to be perfect. He
only needed her to be perfceily his
Now she stirred in her sleep. She was
waking. She did not know he had only
ecently been a mote of dust in the close
air. She Dreathed quick hot kisses into
his eur. She was saying something.
During the time of his marriage, he
had gotten money and older and know-
nd many lovely women seemed to
like men who are knowing and older
and ar least a little bit moneyed. So
things were different after his divorce,
different from college and dilleient from
man ad yet not entirely different.
He had fled for his life from an unhap-
ricted woman who clutched be-
ot dance. In New V.
life in which once
by others and cunningly
t, sti

ton. “Why do you look à

py, con:
cause she could
he had found
he was choses
had 10 work out ways to re
for case and freedom.
New York was full of quick, ques
constricted girls, Sex breathed humidly
over the restaurants and the theaters
and the expense accounts, Mingled in
this breath, like the air of hallways, were
hopes of love. The next hallway would
be sweet, would be sweeter. The next
girl would be less frightened. The ever-
lasting cool music of nighttime Manhat-
ed silence, was surrogate for
lence; the
music grew louder and more tangled—
variation on unstated melodies, elabora-
tions on a too natural, distracted gift of
song. The prey tracked down the hunt-
they coupled; he

tan prom

it coveted silence and space

coupled, still alone, depleted, acquaint-
ed with grief and strange to the lady by
his side.

Helen promised.

nother joining and
another privacy. She had needs, but was
more than an empty space to fill. She
gave herself value. Just as she chose the
she might do, the movie she might
sent to take a part in, so she had cho
sc she needed

him, not be

sen man
but because she needed (his man. She
cared for him—or so he believed.

You'll break my bones that way,”
ed in the heavy dark.

them. You care lor r
ou? Does your
had bit until
blood ha
The

still hurt?" She
drop of the slow lymphy
1 stained their pillow
mote of dusi sw: awa

th of bodies and roses. The roses
had seemed like a good extravagant win-
ter idea, Now they sweated their heavy
fragrance into the apariment,

He was hungry a little, but he was

more tired, She turned eagerly, refreshed
by her brief nap. He tried to hold her
where she was, right there, stay there in
his arms.
k them, Mike!
s just stay here.
1," she said thoughtfully
afterward, insisting on gett
a cantaloupe for both of the
E

ag up lo pop
, "so many
don't really care enough. We" (she
women) "have to do all the car
ing." There was a responsible pout on
her tired, satished face. Scent ol roses
and ripe cantaloupe. It was fresh and
chilled. Good, good idea: they ate, dan-

ling their naked legs from the bed,

putting the rind in an ashtray. He kissed
her on the shoulder—what à good friend
she was, to find a cantaloupe during
this season!

105 been а nice seat belt, goodbye,”
she said, grinning her lopsided grin.
This was one of their household jokes.
Once they had pushed together the twin
beds in а motel to make love, and he
had fallen into the crack between the
beds, and as the beds slid apart and he
sank slowly to the carpet, he had called
up like a drowning man, “Oh goodbye,
it’s been a great trip but 1 forgot to fas-
ten my seat belt" And they had
laughed like crazy children, tickled each
other and roared with crazy delight, and
stretched and made bridges and dipped
cach other like nutty acrobats into the
widening gap between their beds.

“May Т see you tomorrow?" he asked.
“It’s Sunday. May I see vou all day? Lers
get out of town for the day.”

"Oh, Em darlin
Tuncheon date. What a silly thing to do
on a Sunday, and it’s a silly person—you
don't know him. But Im having cock-
tails at Willy John’s, I just have to put

sorry, І made

in an appearance—jc
love to meet you.”

Silence.

“They know all about you. They
know how special you are. Somehow 1
didn't even have to tell them, they
had to look at me. They
dilerem, Mike.”
straightened his rind in
1 bit of pedantic housekeep-
ing to show him she really didn't think
Sunday luncheon dates make any sense
at all. And cocktails, t00—no sense at all.
She straightened his rind to tell him how
special, how different, how she cared

a me there, They'd

ay Leven lool:

`d rather see y
en you enough in crowds. 1
know how you are in a crowd. You han
dle them fine.

“Please.”

“TH wait ll you're fı
when. Right now

“Don't you want to see me tomorrow,
darling?” she asked.

“1 already answered that question.”
“Not at a

ce. Tell

“You mean,” he said heavily, “you
have another party you must go to in
the evening? And if 1 want to see you,

there’s
you i

More silence. Creakings throu
walls: pipes, steps, all the business of the
pueblo dwellers making their steady, i
regularly clicking din. Radios. Elevators.
The Lexington Avenue bus. Silence of
fret between. Helen and him.

“I go to parties,” she said, patient and
indulging him, “because 1 like them. It's
fun. And because it's part of my cureer—

nother crowd for me to watch

п the

And becuse even more fun when

you're there. I see you having a good
time, you can't fool me, you enjoy it
when people your jokes. They

listen to you. ching you're
marvelous, Mike. Who likes to be alone

all

the time?
ot all the time,” he said stubbornly,
shutting his eyes because they were rich-
ly naked and this conversation seemed
to strip them of their healthy, rich, desir
ing fesh; it made their a
spindly in the Iate-afternoon light
wanted to cough. “Not all the time, j
sometimes. Just tomorrow.

“You have a
“you're awfully good at panties for a
man who grouches so mudi. Pve seen
you just walk in and take over. Now just
don't . Miket” She shook her
head flirts he had sa

amd less
he

how ir

tossed her thick hair, cropped thickly
She liked (o win loving batiles
him: she would not give up. “You're

natural with people, and against your
own will Do you think maybe that's

why, Mike? People feel the weight, the
friction of real character. Is that it? Tell
me your secret, s'il te plait.”

He would not be flirted by her wh
he was asking very much more. He did
not smile.

“The way you laugh and look at pco-
ple, Mike, they're putty in your hands.
They just give up. You're the Pic-eyed
Piper.

"ve had my hands in too much put-
ty," he said. "Ed rather you looked at
me, and T want to give up amusing
people. Maybe you should stop being so
amusing, too."

This time he caught her hard. Perhaps
was his hoarse, imperative voice, still
with that special resonance after the aft-
ernoon's lovemaking. Perhaps it was this
combined with his cold sm. Her
joke of flattery had fallen flat: bombed,
as her friends put it. It was surely also
that she was deeply susceptible to him,
for her face turned waxy all at once, as
abruptly the sense of their profound
trouble together had caught up with her
body, and the pale and pink ease of sa-
tiety deserted her. He was aware of the
bluish markings under her eyes: Great
Lakes sinus, she had explained before he
had seen anything but her flagrant beau
ty. She spoke almost in a whisper, avert-
ing her head, ashamed. “I don't care for
vone but you, love, but don't force

me. І don't take forcing. That's why I
run my life my own way. Ohio tried to
force me thats why I burned the
bridges and put up my camp in Mani
tan, I make my pretend. I do my special
way of reading a line. 1 like a good
night's work, fighting it out from eight-
thirty till eleven, defending some imagi-
nary soul, cleaning it bare—defending
myself—and then taking it easy. My in-
dependence. Н doesn't mean I don't love
you

Stubbornly he shook his head and
pressed his lips; and he felt like а wom
ап who says Be with me more to а man
determined to build his life on achieve-
ment and motion, an enemy to love al-
though ag it—as the fire needs
r to be hot and active, but
tells its need of wood by reducing it to
right to do this!
When women take up linc vices,
and men grow petulant and sulky, there
is a violation of history. This thought, a
sudden acces of prisy conservatism,
might have amused him in another mood.
Now he still did not smile. He remem-
bered that increasing numbers of young
women are beginning to suffer the male
discases—ulci cardiac failures—noth-
ing sacred. We don't demand the right
to Fallopian tumors and hysterectomies,
he thought. Why do they need our
gastritis, too?

“Why are you grinning?” she a
“Joke. You'd be putty if I said. But
its really a complaint and pretty nasty."
“You don't want me to be an actress:
"I want you to be good to yourself.”
She shook her hcad slowly. Her y
overtook his vindictive imagina-
y for his angry,
whimsical gei ve
dear to him, a worn, distracted beauty,
and her anxious eyes were filled with
moist effort Even if distracted, she cared
only for him among men, She liked oth-
er things and other people and other
men, but as a man he pleased her mos
Yes, That should be enough. And she
was not always distracted.

“Mike,” she said, “you've got both the
flibbers and the nasties today. Lers have
some soup. Keep up the old blood
sugai

She sprang to her fect; she ran. Her
long legs like a new-found girl's, the
coiled spring of her strength—good
stock, tough good animal nature. She
opened а can; she did kitchen work; she
leaned and smiled while the pot came to
boil. She used à large spoon to guide
the canned dam chowder imo
plates. With her forearm she touched his
robe, which she had appropriated to wear
over nothing but her fine extravagant
flesh, to protect it from stain of
soup. She looked worn, even more beau-

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“Oh, we just went to the movies and had a soda.”

tiful without make-up, the first lines of
age gathered about the eyes and on her
handsome full throat, Her eyes, gray and
tender, locked themselves into his over
the raised spoon before she would taste
it. He blinked, grinned, and reached up
her arm through the wide sleeve.
“Don't, PH spill," she said, but made а
quick grateful smile. "Let me come here
someday and cook you a real meal. Re-
ember the first time, the first time
She cut the sentence adrift while

she
did her own work of remembering, and

then joined it again. “When we bought
everything and had it all ready? Steak
and succotash and frozen strawber

Yes. It was the week before she did the
Lorea play for that educational network.
had come busily through his door in
fternoon, all prepared for cooking,
with crisp celery stalks at the top of the
sack, and had even put on an apron. She
had spun around to show him how much
like a little cook she could seem; the
apron was silly and. lovely, flying. He
had taken her to his bedroom in the
dying light of an October afternoon,
and when they awoke during the night,
it had seemed better just to nibble on
crackers thirst with orange
juice, drow: ind then return to

hed. The frozen strawberries lay melting
in the sink.
1 remen he said.

“But about tomorow you don't re-
member? Bad sign, very bad. I'm slip-
ping. In the evening you even promised
to go 10 the party, The Trout? Put on
your thinking cap. You must remember,
you complained so."

“Yes, sure, sure. But I'm not go
think I said why already" —and with
impatience before her teasing effort that
he could not conccal—"but PH say it

you

4
n

‘Ave you angry with me? Do I—did T

something wrong?” She blushed
“Just now? Docs your ear hurt?”

Мо, no, no, don't connect with thai—

with the other room. 1 want to see vou, I
never tire of you—please, Helen!—but
I don't see you anymore in the crowds.
1 don't see you at all.
Her eyes were darkening with shame
d worry. She wanted him to be happy
th her. This was making her a little
angry and she did not like to be angry.
Anger was one of the things she had left
back in Ohio, except for the play anger
of theater, That was diflerent—a fine in.
siructional reminder and use of it.
“Maybe it's that you don't sce yourself,"
she said.

She nt that he was too susceptible
to crowds and that it was a weakness. He
wuld be able ro hold on to what he
was, what he wanted, despite the crowds

Jt was a weakness, then. All right.

But still unfair of hei

"Probably уоште right" he said.
"Probably ivs just selfish, thats what

you're thinking. I wouldn't deny it for
L There's nothing wrong with
He touched. her
wrist in the fop-
ping sleeve. "Selfishly I want to be aloni
with you. Helen." -

He watched the naked struggle о wor-
ry and shame turning in her bruised
yes. Years ago he had learned that
ger always wins this contest in the eyes,
even if anger has been abolished. Once
more he tried for love in the race with
anxiety. "We're good alone. We're fine
alone. We're not alone enough."

But what about tonight? she was
thinking. She did not want to be angry
with him. Nor did she want (o turn it
against herself. Fleet troubled pride,
neward year She bent to bre:
softly on her spoon and take the soup.

T don't sce why we can't risk it more
often,” he insisted stubbornly.

Just as stubbornly she made the deci
sion not to understand him. Despite
love, despite desire, despite hope, she
could not turn from her way to his. It
was a decision made for her by the deep,
anxious accent at the left side of he
mouth, even by the fine laughter lines in
the delicate skin at the corners of h
eyes. “About tomo she
“Look, PH explain. I'm not justi
Mike, you know we don't do that, but
Tl explain. There's this man T have to
meet, sort of by accideni—you know.
Hell. vou could even be there. But
they've cleared the rights to a new play
by Sartre. Christopher adaptation,
and I'm perfect foi t read it
yet. Du exei
know, the beautiful and smart intellec-
tual type. Trained by Mike Curtiss—you
know. Come on, kiss. Kiss

He. did.

“Аһ that’s bener. I know it when you
sulk, 1 feel it right he
own stomach, she felt his and squeezed
"it feels like jealousy, you know? Awful,
wful feeling. Especially when a person
js uying to be so good, Mike—really
trying.”

She waited. She H
rie to her. Faith
waited together.

A winter chill pierced the walls de-
spite steam heat and drawn curtains and
the scent of roses. Through the litle
kitchen in which they sat, he saw the fe-
rocious white triangle of light from the
gooseneck lamp pointed toward a pseudo-
brick linoleum wall pasted up by the
last occupant, The light burned day and
night. He liked to imagine it as sunlight,
squinting his eyes: he
is love. The body's ache, glee
spasm was a seeming of love, and
differed only from the steady trae ihi
as the ceaseless light differed from sun.
Tt had по shades and changes; it had no
rhythm of fading and blazing; it did not
provide the fixed. nourishing and con-
suming center of life

—she felt her

d challenged him to
nd toughness. They

liked to im:

love

Helen ate her soup in silence. "The
next gesture should be his. The steam of
rots and clams and spices warmed

acy of nakedn
She had the right ro feel
wronged—they had spent the whole day
1 silence and the thick strug
gle of flesh. But they were not alone, ci-
ther, and she should know that he was
right, too.

His apartment faced on а court. He
could feel the weight of the fias ove
head resting on his shoulders: he thrust
his head out 10 bear the burden. Su
rounded by schedules and plans, trod-

den under by obligations, he wanted to
escape to eat grass, like a sick dos.
“Let's go to the country tomorrow."

he said. “Sunday
cel all those (h

rent

cs brighe
loved projects. “Lers make a real date
for it, lers put it on the schedule fo
next week"

Let's not. Lets just do it tomorrow.”
Darling, | can't

He shrugged.

She came around. the table to sit on
his lap. He felt the marvelous warmth of
her body through the robe she was we.
ing, through his pajamas. She put her
head down on his shoulder so that her
burning cheeks Jay against his neck. She
whispered that her skin was all rough
from rubbing against his beard. He
thought of his electric razor. No, he
thought of the gleaming black cord
hanging loose from the socket in the
bathroom.

Tm sorry about tomorrow
she said. “I really wish

“Me, 100."

dar!
bu

"Please meet me tomorrow night.
Write it down.
mber,”
I suppose 1 should go home
now, it’s so late, bu ý
She began to touch him with her

hands.
Before going downstairs to get he

cab, he led her once more back into the
bedroom. She would think that this
meant they were together amd alone.

They hid from the city, from the world,
Dom cach other, in cach other's arms.
Then she would go. She had a busy
row they would meet over
cocktails and he would watch her in the
crowd. Lightly she would squeeze his
hand 10 let him know she thought only
of him, and then she would pass on to
greet smother friend, a possible contact.
But right now her hands w
tive о:

€i
his body,
they demanded, they promised. His car
hurt. Greed. Pride. Hope. Hide! Hide,

hide, hide.

pera-

him. They asked ove

121

PLAYBOY

122

FOR THE ROAD continued from page 96)

versed and measured as accurately
possible, sometimes using a “filth wheel”
of extreme precision to get readings
one hundredths of а mile. An average
speed is computed which takes into a
count the terrain and traffic, then sec
tions of the run are set up with. check
points at the conclusion of each segment.
"These interim stops break up the total
distance and are hopefully located where
contestants are least likely to expect
them, and concealed so that rallyists can-
not dawdle or speed up to correct for
whatever variation in time they may feel
they are in possession of at the moment.
Time over or under the ideal set for ar-
rival at a check point is irredeemable.
Instructions are mimeographed and
handed out as the entrants assemble for
the start, usually in the parking lot of
some shopping center where an extra 50
or 100 cars imposes no great problem.
"Then, at one-minute intervals, the con-
testants are lagged off, each with
ing time stamped on his route card. At
uch of the check points time of arrival
is noted to the split second and entered
on the card. At the conclusion, the team
with the smallest total variation in time

tee’s ability то devise wuthlul but
ad to lay out a

duows
course demanding the utmost in ak
nes. By their excellence in mee
these requirements, annual rallies of cer
tain Clubs become famou

Other groups become more noted Гог
the excellent parties that follow their
outings and some radical organizations
ive practically dispensed with the me
chanical aspect of the whole thing and
Jy meer to have a ball.

One such larseeing brotherhood is the
Bachelors’ Sports Саг Club of Holly-
wood (so farseeing, in fact, that it has
an auxiliary: the Bachelorettes) in whose
contests driving ability is strictly second-
ary to animal cunning. А typ
staged by this clutch of spirits ended
h the wi being selected on the
basis of his date wearing the most reveal
ing bikini at the beach party ай
Such al of another
extremely loost-knit West Coast organi
zation, Los Borrachos Visitandos Sports
ar and Rat Slugging Club, whose
ime-and-distance contests are chiefly con-
cerned with getting to the proper desti-
ion on the right day and in a sober
s to be in shape for the pro
Jonged socializing which is rigidly plot-
ted. The dub (whose name may be
translated as “The Visiting Drunkards")
rallies only to the weekend festivals that
are so popular with natives and tourists
in the West and where a degree of gaicty

struct

ward.

sate—so

not compatible with the old home town
is permissible and, in fact, is both ex-
речей and encouraged.

From these wavesties on the principles
of the Alpenfahvt it is possible to move
upward in infinite degree, but, with the
exception of strictly professional rallies,
it must be said that the social aspect and
the attractions of the opposite sex are
no small part responsible for the popu-
larity of rally clubs.

Between gr
"mount of. planning that calls for meet
ings and geriogerhers which, more ofte
than not, take place in the congenial at-
mosphere of restaurants or private clubs
whose surroundings are conducive to an
easy informality. The coedu
of these clubs is emphasized by the cu
rent favor with which the young profes
опа] woman and college student look
upon the sports саг or small imported
auto. Acquiring one usually leads to co
tact with other owners of the same make,
ad should one be the adventurous,
plessureloving type. entree into th
sporting activity is the net result
а. lower, culminate
1 various ways as driv-
«І navigators form teams or trade
miners over the course of a season.
And many a fiancée who has refused. to
learn math or expose herself to the ele-
ments has found herself left home on
as seen her boyfriend with

ev there is a

weekends or h

another woman coolly n

snipulating a
slide rule as they roared past.

Very few experienced contestants ever
run ош ol gas, but an amazing number
suffer from ability to consistently
distinguish right from left, and thus
take the wrong turn. H they forge ahead
and end hopelesly lost in some bosky
dell or find themselves so far olf schedule
as to make continuing out of the ques
Gon, and мор for refreshment at a hos
pitable inn, who can point the finge

One Midwestern club's Moonlight
Rally, which takes place in the lush
arly summer, meanders through fertile
smelling farmlands and alongside wood-

1 lakes and rivers so appealing that it
sullers from an almost embarrassing
number of siragglers, considering the

simplicity of the rout

The subject of getting lost, aside trom
such romantic peccadilloes, is a touchy
one among the serious minded, simply
because it cin happen to the best and
the consequences can be thrilling as well
as amusing. Whenever a car fails to show
up at the finish, it is generally assumed
that the pair went astray and, rather
than face the gibes of fellow competi-
tors, headed for home, However, there is
no guarantee that the persons
are indeed at home or will ever be heard

from again; they could well be in the
hold of a freighter bound for Tasm:
One event in the great opem spaces
looked pitifully simple because of the
paucity of roads on which the careless
could take the wrong direction; yet,
somehow, a dozen cars drove right up to
the opening of a mine shaft and we
pparently prepared 1o accept it
rely a drastic hazard, had they not
been restrained by the caretaker of the
idoned property
This pres-onregardless attitude of
rallyists is legend. and stems from two
inherent qualities that must. be p
(V) the directions of the comm
in most cases absolutely accu
2) each contestant must. ha preme
confidence that he has performed each
and every instruction correctly. To wav-
er or doubt is to fall into error and end
up last or in a different country, Even if
all the other cars are going north and
your navigator says "head south," you
arry on—even at the price of your neck.
An overlooked instruction in a fast
moving series once sent a pair of en-
thusiasts onto a busy suburban freeway
in the dim light of predawn, headed the
wrong way—a chilling [act not discov-
ered ший they had cheerfully waved,
honked and blinked their lights back at
a number of friendly drivers who had
aluted г [ashi
These mental lapses are often aided
and abetted by instructions which, con
демал sometimes feel, border on the
misleading even in the “navigational”
rallies, not to mention those designed as

“wick” rallies. Even the clearest and
mos revealing instructions are taxing
when they come thick and fast. A typical

example will illustrate the point
“Continue on State Street at 3.3
mph. Turn R. at Mobil station. At first

blvd. stop, change average speed to 27.5
mph. Turn L. 1100 yds. past stop sign
Turn R. at first paved road past railroad
tracks, (Note: You must obey RR flag:
man, do not cross in froni of trains, this
is a switch yard.) At end of paved stretch
change speed to 41.7 mph and turn L.
first designated state route.
(Note: Whenever a numbered route you
© on goes neither to the right nor left
at a T and the next route instruction
Cannot be executed at this point, ann
right and follow the new route to the
next action point)...”

road as

Oltiimes the rillymaster becomes so
engrossed with introducing obstacles to
create pressure that he throws logistics

out the window. Recently, one big event
piled up a fantastic traflic jam at a ferry
Grossing which the committee had envi
sioned only as a sweatbox. The ferry
made a crossing every ten. minutes and
the picture of the poor soul who just
missed and had to wait while ten pre
cious minutes ticked off was undoubted-

ly hilarious, However, overlooked was
the fact that the ferry had room for only
five cars at a time and, if they arrived on
schedule there would be a car a minute,
not counting regular Sunday traf. At
the appointed hour, twice as many rally
cars were arriving as were able то depart,
and after a few trips the monumental
chaos and loss of temper can perhaps be
imagined.

Trick” rallies in which every effort is
made to contuse the entrant [all some.

where between the competitive runs and
the sheer-luck, outtohaveasball affairs
which resemble treasure hunts. Verging
on the serious are the "photo" rallies
where the route changes are revealed
only by aerial photographs which bear
little resemblance to the same spot when
viewed from ground, or car, level. At the
end of the scale nearest the jaunts of the
Bachelors. or thy or
rallies which have instructions printed
upside down and backward; or poker
runs (contestants pick up a playing card
at each check point and the best five-
card hand wins): rallies where the in-

Borrachos, are mi

ws are in the form of scrambled
anagrams; rebus rallies, wherein. draw-
ings Or cartoons replace words; rallies in
which a check-point oficial cuddling a
"Teddy bear could be a mute cue for vou
to head for a nearby wildanimal farm
(if there's also a spot called Big Bear
alls within driving distance, lots of
luck). There are also demoniacal +
which employ little-known symbols—dis-
tances might be indicated in leagues,
links, furlongs, poles or perches
World Almanac will prove as indispensa-
ble as your ignition key in such cases);
there are rhymed rallies, crossword. pu7-
ale rallies, and rallies which dely descrip-

struct

tion and the participants.

Since the avowed intention of dic ral-
ly is to enable the enthusiastic car owner
to participate in a nonracing event that
will give him the pleasure of handling
his car under circumstances. different
from his everyday driving and rerum
him а sense of well-being and happiness
becomes. a

se ol te cach h

own

he level of skill and devotion applied
to the cause will determine whether the
rally fan remains in the “rally to the lı
keg” class or seeks out the type of thir
the Colorado Region of the Sports Car
Club of America stages in February of
cach year: the Seven Passes Rally—a
high-speed tour through the snow-cov-
ered, iceencrusted
Colorado Rockies.
cession might go something
Young man buys car, feels
sporting, joins club which contains good
looking wom able as rally part-
ners, attends functions, dances, parties,
has ball. At one of these parties he meets
another y.m., a real rally nut who was

ack roads of the

once 13th in the Continental Divide and
would have been higher placed had his
navigator not been a complete clot. He
describes the intricacies of keeping on
schedule while nosing through herds of
cattle that roam the unfenced pastures
and the tingling sensation of passing a
huge diesel truck. blind on a 12,000-Foot
pass. Fired with drink and enthusiasm,
the first young man asks for a chance to
navigate for this expert on the next big
one and is accepted.

He knows navigation, having helped
his own lovely but somewhat inept navi
gator, bur he now discovers that his
inexpensive circular slide rule is much
100 basic for the big leagues and he must
invest in a Curia. “pepper mill" binary
calculator, if he is not of a mind to go
ic electronic com-

o the more eset
puters priced at several hundred clams.
He will probably spring for a couple of
good stop warches and bas, or should
have, an extremely accurate pocket ог
wrist witch, in case опе or the other
stops. In addition, he will need a dip-
board equipped with a light and a supply
of pencils.

The car owner will undoubtedly have
equipped his vehicle with a brand of tire
known among the clan as one that re-
tains its original circumference to a high
percentage. regardless of speed (so that
his special odometer redin
chedths of a mile will not be тоо

n onc hun-
ected
by variations in tire size) and he is also
likely lo have installed а set of high-pow-
ered driving lights or a spodight and
even a shortwave radio, as mentioned
earlier. This aggregate can tack on more
than S500 to the list price of his car. but
the combi ty fa
shape to compete. I the car is an open
roadster, preferred. by many, car coats
and other mot habiliments would
ı up the total another notch or Iwo.

If the team finds itself working well
together, the girlfriends will quickly
be relegated 10 lolling beside the pool or

ation would be in pr

before the fireplace at i
ile the males challenge the conditions
that prevail.

Thus the cycle begins, and il the en
thusiast has the temperament and frec-
dom w travel, he might wind up on a
Factoryspousored team competing in the

lly heady)

arters

great overseas rallies such as the Monte
Carlo, the Liége-Rome-Liege, the wild-
ly improbable East African or the Round
Australia, which spares no obstacles of
moui п and desert for 12,000. inercd.
ibly difhcult miles.

This might seem a far ay from a
Bachelors’ Sports Car ibs Wine
Cellar "Four, but the end result is the
same: press on re nd have a

good time.

rdless.

Newest, most advanced fishing
rods on the market, 100%
stronger. 500% more consistent

in "action'
Send 50¢ lor Roddy 64 pag
tuli color annual, plus
information on “Gator Tait rods.
P.O. Box 431, Gardena,
California 90247

Would you rather be the richest
man in the graveyard

or prone at the poolside
pavilion at the Stardust
Hotel* in Las Vegas?

Don't answer till you've
checked the second
alternative.

where your "resort dollar” buys more

PLAYBOY

PLAYBOY FORUM

us to the view that the use of such
expletives could be properly al
lowed where such use was honest
and the dr с development suffi-
cient to warrant the inclusion of
rough language.

Our excursions on a carefully
controlled basis were generally
found acceptable, but required us to
nswer many individuals in the au-
dience whó took exception to our
Jiberalized policy and held vs up to
censure. Our response to such criti
cism endeavored to point out that
the mere mentions of "hell" and the
occasional expletive, "damn," were
not
they were contained in a statement
of divine imprecation. Our best ef-
forts to rcason with our critics more
than often. proved. unsuccessful.

Tn connection with the unscripted
Tonight and Jack Paar programs,
we lack the normal control
ble to us with a scripted dramatic
sentation. All guests on these un-
€ cautioned to
we which proves

n themselves profane unless

p
scripted programs а
avoid rough langu
offensive to individuals and seg-
ments of the audience: and when
they fail to observe this request, we
excise their intemperate utterances
You will appreciate the fact t
the editors
task of assuring that wh:
ad hear meets soi
standards of taste and propriety are
often in that uncomfortable posi-
tion where they must choose be-
tween the se s of individuals
dience and the right of the
total to an unobstructed
performance. Often, these judg-
ments are subjective and allow for
“шегепсе of opinion. Your spirited
jection of our endeavors in this
stance is not only unusual but
che
"Thank you for lening us have the
value of your healthy opinion.
Carl M. Watson
National Broadcasting Co.
New York, New York

signed to this delicate
you sce

in the

audience

1 leave the judgments to you. As for
me, well, Im downright disturbed, but
not bı

en.
Donald C. Ziperstcin
Leesburg, Virginia
If your opinion is recognized as being
healthy,” then what can Mr. Watson
deduce about the opinions of the clum-
orous crew of critics whose sensibilities
are shattered by an occasional off-color
word? We were watching Johnny
one evening a short time ago, when the
censored gaps in sound became so dis-
turbing that we turned off the set in

arson

124 disgust. The cutting of words, and some-

(continued from page 46)

times even phrases, from the taped sound-
track of that particular program has
become so common that recently Johnny
began doing bits about it on the air.

The letter from NBC is a fascinating
narrative of an elephant stampeded by
a neurotic mouse. One gets the impres-
sion that the network moguls are at the
mercy of any nitwit who happens to have
а fwecent stamp. By their own admis-
sion, an adult and responsible policy was
scrapped because efforts to reason with
their prudish critics proved unsuccessful.
It should come as a surprise to no one,
including NBC, that pathological prudes
are by definition immune to reason. But
why does anyone pay attention 10 them—
that's the mystery! There are all hinds of
crack pots around, living ont their lonely,
pathetic lives; but only the crackpot with
a compulsive necd to censor whatever
happens to upset him is seriously listened
to by others and treated as though he
were a stable member of society.

SUICIDE IN SCANDINAVIA

Over here, on the other side of the
pond, we are very interested in America's
ree tion of traditional concepts
of morality. There are many American
altitudes that seem strange to a Scan-
dinavian. For example, the question of
small children on public beaches. Из
quite normal here to see young chiklren
bathing nude. And I am grateful that we
be so normal and natural without
hearing a voice сту that it is wrong to
look at the human body.

Rabbi Tanenbaum said in the Tria
logue discussion that the suicide
Sweden is enormous because there has
been a breakdown in traditional moi
п зе
ality! This would mean that if a
man and woman were having sexual con-
tact outside marriage, they might then be
expected to kill themselves. That would
very quickly reduce the population
di ly.

1 think if Rabbi Tanenbaum would
look into the statistics he would find
that most American suicides go unre-
ported. In the small populations of the
Scandinavian countries it is much easier
to keep accurate statistics. And the Scan-
dinavian's tolerant attitude on such mat-
contributes to more accurate

ters also
reporting

There are three ways or handling
personal problems: You can fight them;
you can disregard. them: or you can just
give up. The last recourse often leads to
suicide. Usually when people commit
suicide it is not just because of one or
two problems, but because of a whole
complex of things which may or may not
nelude sexual problems. But rarely is sex
the main thing.

We are delighted with rrAvsov in
ا8‎
e

Denmark. Too bad
here.

jt is so e

pensi

Ib Kidde-Hansen
Frederiksberg, D

BETWEEN THE LINES

While reading through. the March 5,
1965, issue of Time mi
ross an article in the “Rel
tion under the subheading “Morality,”
which describes a meeting of theologians
ty School. Although
never mentioned, these
terating The

gazine, I came

n" sec

PLAYBOY is
theologians seem to be r
Playboy Philosophy. 1 strongly. suspect

that the words "Hefner" and "PrAvuov

were on every theologian’s tongue, and
editors of Time saw fit to delete
would amount to praiseful refer-
ences to a rival publication. On the off-
chance that you haven't seen this article,
1 quote it:

LOVE IN PLACE OF LAW?

"The 20th Century's sexual revolu-
n directly challenges Christi
с teachings against fornication
and adultery. Some progressive
church thinkers now advocate a
"new morality” to take account of
these facts of life. What they pro-
pose is an ethic based on love rather
than law, in which the ultimate cri-
terion for right and wrong is not
divine command. but the individu-
al's subjective perception of what is
good for himself and his neighbor
in cach given situation.

More than 900 clergymen and stu-
dents gathered last week at Harvard
Divinity School to ponder the new
morality and its ihcance for
the church. Inevitably the speakers
reached no definitive conclusions,
but they generally agreed that in
some respects the new morality is a
healthy advance, as a genuine effort
tO take literally St. Paul's teachings
that through € we are deliv-
cred from the law." "Lists of cans
па cannols 7 said
Princeton's

Paul

Ramsey.
Protestant chaplain, the Rev. Wik

liam Sloane Coffin,
proved the new mo
of “guide
ing post
the church would h

similarly ap-
ty’s concept
than “hitah-

posts” rather

to be re-

structured to accept it as a way
of life.

In defense of tradition, Ramsey
suggested that the new morality
could not ignore the divinely given

ural link between sexual rela-
tions and procreation. Harvard’
Gordon Kaufman answered that
the perfection of contraceptives was
breaking this link . . .

Joseph Fletcher of the Episcopal

ECHO
CANYON

should b
the church ...
"The core proposition of the new
morality, ued Fletcher, is that
¢ is only one thing which is

ch is a divine imperativ
the situational approach of the new
morality, he said, "one enters in-

ied with all the wisdom of the

culture, but prepared in on :
dom to suspend and violate any
rule except that one must as respon-
sibly as possible seek the good of
one's neighbor." Which is quite a
long thought for an 18-year-old dur-
nate moment in the
of a car.

We here at the University of Chicago
immensely enjoy reading Hefner's Phi-
losophy and find it to be one of the few
lights of reason in an otherwise dark-
ened society.

Manfred. White
Chicago, Illinois

he Playboy um” offers the oppor-
tunity for an extended dialog between
readers and editors of this publication
on subjects and raised in
Hugh M. Hefner's continuing editorial
series, “The Playboy Philosophy.” Three
booklet reprints of “The Playboy Phi-
losophy,” including installments 1—7,
8-12 and 13-18, are available ai $1 per
booklet. Address all correspondence on
cither “Philosophy” or "Forum" to: The
Playboy Forum, pLaywoy, 232 E. Ohio
Street, Chicago, Illinois 60611.

dssues

125

PLAYEOY

GIRLS OFTHE RIVIERA (continued from page 101)

h barrister, gambles at Monte
Carlo or spends all her waking hours on
water cushion at St-Tropez, it really
doesn't matter. For once she's ensconced
t her favorite strand along the Cóte
d'Azur or her favorite sidewalk café
overlooking the Ligurian Sea, she be
comes a member of that unique and
eminently desirable breed of female: the
Riviera girl.

If one were asked to single out the
qualities that separate the Riviera girl
from the rest of her gender, the first
characteristic that would come to mind
is her nonchalant unself-consciousness
among
the absol
possible to trace the origins of this fe
male cult of maximum exposure back to
a bright aft i 7 when actress
Ina Claire crashed the gate of the swank
Juan-les-Pins casino wearing only a
translucent pair of beach pajamas. From
that day forward, the Riviera girl has
had but one all-consuming goal: the
public display of her body.

With the advent of the bil
the Riviera girl carved a permanent
niche for herself in the annals of ana-
tomical history. For the girls of the Rivi
era, the bi became much more than
just accepted uniform. It. became
their bond, their banner, their symbol of
sartorial, social and sexual emancipa-
Year after year, American swimsuit
designers who eschewed the bikini had
tried unsuccessfully to will this br
child of the Riviera's couturiers into ob.
scurity. But the Riviera girl could not be
put off. With cach new trip to her own

ge crowds while adorned in

ini in 1946,

particular Riviera stomping grounds. she
took along a new—and briefer—bikini.
displaying her increasingly revealed

charms on well-attended public beaches,
even ambling up to—though not quite
through—the doors of the better casinos.
In accordance with the Riviera girl's
endless quest for maximum exposure of
her natural gifts, the St-Tropez desi
began several years ago to feature
ng line of bikinis that
low-cut bra wired beneath
miladys bosom, for maximum uplift
and outthrust. This move undoubtedly
stablished the precedent for the intro-
duction of that latest boon (o Riviera
mankind: the monokini. A descendant
of Americas topless swimsuit, the eve
more abbreviated met with
intransigent opposi
enforcers. This time, they felt, the Rivi
cra girl had definitely gone too far
Or so it seemed until a pretty 21-y
old Parisian gym teacher named Clau-
dine Durand arrived in Cannes early
this year—to be arrested fo ing
nothing more than a fairly modest mon-
okini while engaged in a fast round of
pingpong outside the tent of an emer-

126 prising beach concessionaire. Her en-

suing trial and conviction on charges
of being “an outrage to public decency

would normally have been enough to
quell the ambitions of other girls with

this was the Ri

became a cause célèbre,
case to the Aix-en-Provence appellate
court, Claudine was acquitted when the
judges concurred, with classic Gallic gal-
jantry, that “the spectacle of the nudity
of the human body has nothing intrinsic
in it that would outrage normal, even
delicate decency"—thus paving the way
for a dramatic increase in bare-bosomed
beauties who will make their annual pil-
grimage to the Cate d'Azur this summer.
The next logical step in socially accept-
able Riviera beachwear—already taken
on remoter beaches—will undoubtedly
be nothing at all.

There is yet another common chai
ter trait peculiar to the girls of the Ri
era—one which has always been of
invaluable aid to the companion secking
male traveler who frequents these fe
male-flooded shores. For reasons best
known only to herself, the Riviera girl is
a remarkably sedentary creature. Wher-
ever she makes her pad along the resort
studded Cate d'Azur, she tends to stay—
act of Riviera life chat enables the male
suitor to acquaint himself with the d
vergent backgrounds and tastes that sep-
te the typical girl of St-Tropez from
her anvacious counterpart in Cannes.
The only migratory influences the Rivi-
era girl adheres to are those dictated by
age: As she grows older she tends to
move her beach blanket eastward along
the coast in search of a slightly less
frenetic habitat. This progression is so
. however, that it may well take

; but it does help explain why
the girls tend to be a few years older
nd wiser at each resort along the Cote
d'Azur.

Once the resourceful male tourist has
familiarized himself with the Riviera
landscape and, more importantly, d
cred which brand of Riviera girl habi
uates each of the pleasure stops along, his
coastal itinerary, he should be able to
distinguish the subtle differences bi
tween a Nice girl and her Antibes sister
with little more than approving

glance. Heading eastward by car. the
Venturesome m begins his re-
searches into the my of Riviera

femininity at Le

А rather unprepossessing lule com-
munity, Le Lavandou has the good for-
tune to be the port from which ferries
taxi back and forth daily to the Пе du
Levant, Europe's famous nudist sanctu-
ary. Habitués of the island who elect to
guests at the public dock
obliged to wear what the French apt-
ly call un minimum. I consists of a tiny

triangle of cloth held in place with
string. After traveling a suitable distance
nto the interior, however, le minimum
is cast aside and couples аге [ree to carry
on their daily activities in the same man-
ner in which couples have been carrying
on since Adam discovered. Eve.

Back on the mainland, it's only a few
kilometers’ drive from Le Lavandou to
the town that Bardot made famous: St-
Tropez. Ever since that summer when
hubby Roger Vadim took his your
bride and a camera crew down to this

previously remote fisherman's paradise
to film And God Created Woman,
aintTrop" has reigned supreme
mong Riviera resorts as the uninhibited

biter of feminine fashions for the en.
tire Cite ФА. ad the favorite jump.
ingoff spot for thousands of would-be
BBs who begin training carly for their
hopeful roles as future monarchs of
Mediterranean womanhood.

By nature, the average St-Tropez fe-
male tends to be young, impressed with
all things artistic, habitually broke, ready
to swing at the drop of a bongo drum-
beat, and an ardent devotee of la vie
bohëme. She usually dozes all day on the
beach, draped in little more than a thin
coating of Bain du Soleil, then suddenly
comes alive after dark, when you'll prob-

bly find her in deep discussion at one
of the beachside coffeehouses, dancing
with abandon to the rhythms of а back
alley bistros jazz combo, or heading.
d some secluded spot on

the beach for a moonlight swim—sans
suit—with the lucky young man who
has managed to capture her vivid ado

lescent imagination for the evening,
e often than not, she
exudes that inimitable aw
tive pubescence that |
St-Tropez with its reputation for being
one of the sw st spots on the Med-
iterranean since the last days of Pompeii.
Tor those who care to add an occasion-
al touch of elegance to their beachcomb-
ing, St-Tropez also caters to a slightly
more formal, but no less fetching, crowd
of feminine wonders, Members of the
Riviera’s jet set arrive by yacht
ugust: meet at L'Esquinade and Mou
cardins (the latter being the area's only
purveyor of haute cuisine bearing a M
chelin uxo. buy the latest

sports and be ar stylings from
Choses or Madame Vachon's, St. Tropez
two leading fashion emporiums: then

head for the same tiny boites
frequented throughout the yea
low-budgeted bohemia
guitar-play

nd bistros

by the
beauty and her
Wg bcachmate. H you hope to
cash in on the annual appearance of
these better-bred darlings of the Riviera,
youll have to work fast, for their stay
is generally brief, and they soon weigh
achor and retreat en masse to the same
seafaring milieu from whence they came.

From St-Tropez you may clect to
make a few casual pit stops on your

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and wackiest of all Rivi-
era resorts: Cannes. If so, your compre-
hensive study of the Riviera girl will
best be served by short stopovers in such
residential communities as Ste-Maxime,
St-Raphaél and Mi - Here the
beaches are bly smaller and
more private, cal Female popul:
tion less transient and a trifle morc. re-
served. The girls who live in these small
municipalities are often the offspring of
French aristocracy. Needless to say, any
attempt to strike up a ménage û deux in
such company must be made with the
utmost tact and sophistication. Playing
the Continental will be well worth the
effort if you should succeed
one of these well-bred
to invite you for a weekend sojourn
the family manor and a leisurely tour of
the verdant and admirably secluded
countryside.

Then comes Cannes. Since its cemer-
gence as an international film center
with the inception of the annual Cannes
Film Festival in 1946, this thriving play-
ground [or femmes fatales has become
the unofficial capital of the Riviera. The
festival kicks off a summer season of sim
ilar cinematic celebrations that last until
the Venice Festival in September. Dur-
ing those two frenetic weeks in Ma
when Cannes is besieged by major pro-
ducers, directors, stars and hordes of
aspiring young actresses, you can be as-
sured of finding more than your fill of
exotic damsels from every port of call.
When the city's opulent Palais du Cinema
opi
ad
Riviera girl is at the height of her
nd never out of sight. This hectic holi
day brings out the best, as well as the
beast, in most Riviera girls, and you can
take your pick of Munich models, Danish
ballerinas, American exchange students,

nd the comeliest of comrades from Mos-
cow—many of whom will be ready and
willing to partake of the pleasures of
festival time with an enterprising young
male who shares their taste for la vie
joyeuse.

If your schedule includes Cannes in
May. it’s best to plan ahead and arrange
for the most strategic accommodations.
Setting up your temporary bachelor
headquarters at such hotels as the Carl-

to that wildest

ton, Martinez, Réserve Miramar or Gray
d'Albion will put you in the enviable
position of having to travel ther

than your main lobby to surround your-
self with a plethora of potential female

partners for the day. The “day,” this
case, will consist of a quick dip in the
Mediterranean followed by midday

snack at one of the myriad sidewalk eat-
cries along the Croisette, after which
you'll repair to your digs to change
something suitable for the busy and 1
chanalian evening ahead. Your Ri
girl for this particular evening

128 probably enjoy starting off the night's

divertisements with a trip to onc of the
nearby cinema houses which offer con-
tinual showings of the festival's many
filmic candidates for the coveted Golden
Palm Award. Then it’s time for a sump-
tuous repast at Drap d'Or or Chez F
both of which feature large dining ter-
es overlooking the sea. After dinner,
you and your date can take a long drive

the beach to the outskirts of town
for an all-night session of terpsichorean

the Whisky à GoGo.

1 the film festival marks the
high point of revelry along the
‚ the rest of the year in Cannes is
far from unrewarding. especially in
terms of abundant and accessible distaff
vacationers, If youd prefer to avoid
the heavy crowds and sky-high prices
that prevail in May, you can bide your
time until ú vua] regattas stare in
or take in the Mimosa Festival
ebruary. No matter when you arrive,
it always seems to be holidaytime in

Cannes. The girls are always the cream
ol the
desa

international crop, and most have
aded on the beaches with but two
n mind: а tan and a man—but
not necessarily in that order.

For the most part, the Riviera girl
prefers Cannes because she can mingle
there with the scions of wealth and cle-

gance. She may not be able ío afford
more th buttered brioche for break-
fast, but at least she'll have the satisfac-

tion of cating it in the shadow of the
Hotel Carlton or the Grand Casino, But
despite her usual lack of funds and her
aste for the blind
fe, the typical С:
expensive or dem ог
course, she won't object if you insist on
aking her to a fine restaurant or buying
her a bagatelle to remember you by, but
she'll probably be amply appreciative if
you offer merely to share your beach
blanket and treat her to a liter of pink
Provençal winc—or even, as is often her
. The Riviera girl is
in Cannes strictly to have a good time,
and she'd rather have it with a consid-
erate and attentive young man of modest
means than spend her evenings alone.
Leaving Cannes behind, you'll quickly
bypass the tourist traffic at Juan
and make your next stopover in Cap
d'Antibes. Most of the girls who frequent
this elegant spa are previous habitués of
some other Riviera setting. There is no
set type of female to search for here; An-
the Closest thing to a melting pot
of Riviera femininity that the Gore
d'Azur has to offer. Almost every Riviera
girl decides to go there sooner or later—
nd usually to the Eden Roc. Perched
atop a rocky promontory. this lavish sea-
side caravansary features an Olyn
ed swimming pool, natural-rock di
tforms, scuba divi

ature.

rubs wet shoulders with the bronze-
skinned beauties of Can
haired “Zazis” of St-Troper,
cooleved divorcees of Cap-Ferrat
Monte Carlo. And if you tire of meeting
your attractive Antibes companion at
Eden Вос well-populated poolside, you
can always suggest a more artistic after-
noon setting in which to conduct an i
timate teate: the local Grimaldi
Museum, famed for its incomparable
Picasso collection, to which many couples
go daily to strengthen their cultural
Donds and interpersonal contacts.
Bohemi: ppears between An-

but
exhibited by the tee
торел.
from (he better brackets,
them are the friends, fiancées, daughters
and misweses of beuerknown French
nd British film producers and directors
who have their villas in nearby St-
and La-Collesur-Loup, two adjoin
communities that comprise a
Riviera-type Beverly Hills. Whenever
the sun is out, which on the Riviera is
practically every day between breakfast
and cocktails, you'll usually find
esting assortment of these uninhibited
upper-bohemians taking the sun totally
au naturel on the sands at Cheval su
Plage, the nearest private beach to their
palatial hideaways in the surrounding
hills.

On to Nice. The girls here а
much like those you'll meet in €
most of them are endowed with the same
c appetites, but there are subtle
ngs that help differentiate the two.

e Nice girl is slightly older—
s opposed to 19 or 90. She

nd many of

ar-

ways impeccably coilled; and her inter-
ests are, as à rule, on a slightly higher
intellectual plane. While Cannes is basi-
cally an overgrown village whose peren
nial party atmosphere has rubbed off on
its visiting hordes of bikinied beachcomb-
ers, Nice is a major city of France. Its
cosmopolitan attitudes have had the
effect on the female citizenry, The girls of
Nice are more likely to be found
great indoors—in the
playing chemin de fer
Marnier—than outside on the terraces
where their Cannes counterparts tend to

The astute male visitor to Nice can
greatly enhance his opportuni
hnding winsome weekend travelmates if
he remembers
things
sources of a typical Riviera resort at her
disposal every day of the year, the Nice
girl will probably be overjoyed at the
idea of being invited for a snowbound
holiday at Auron or Valberg, two of the
closer yearround Alpine winter play-
grounds that can be reached by car with-
in a few hours. And if you should

happen to run across one of those few

French females who "t as at home in
ski pants as she is in her bikini, all the
more reason for asking her to the Alps.
Monte Carlo, you
along the French Riviera, has managed
n its legendary reputati the
permanent playground of the idle rich,
despite the fact that its beaches have
long heen accessible to the general. pub-
lic. This is the last—but far from the
lcast—resort along the Core d'Azur for
the majority of Riviera girls who beg:
Mediterranean meanderings years
g the sun-worshipers of the Ile
nt and the swinging cellar set at
pez. Now they are no longer girls.
‘The typical female devotee of Monte
irlo's strand has long since passed into
womanhood, but she can still we
bikini with an air of ıı I grace
allure th пу St. Tropez would
envy. After round when the
fashion began. She is the grown-up child
of the Riviera's exposure explosion: all
that’s been added is that special appeal
which comes
The height of

the Riviera rites at
"Monte" accompany the annual arrival
of the jet set in January for the Monte
Carlo Rally, and the steady stream ol
coming Ferraris and Lotuses continues to
crowd the streets of Prince B
domain until late May. when the G
Prix de Monaco caps off the season's fes-
tivities. But the poolside pulchritude at
the Hotel de Paris is a year-round local
attraction: and although the BBs ol
E rop and the Claudia Cardinales
of have given way chronol
cally to the eternally desirable Juliette
Grecos and Bella Darvis of this peren-
ial meeting—and —grounds for
Cine d'Azur femmes, Monte Carlo and
ts chic casino clientele will provide
with a hos of heartwarming
to include in your romantic

you
nemor
researches.
Grossing the
Port Saint-Louis,

washed. Tal-

Bordighera
d Ospedaletti. Aside from a gentle
economic renaissance recently begun ас
the last, where new pensiones and а lux-
urious new hotel—Le Rocce del Capo—
have been built at the edge of the sea,
you'll find these spots rather dated and
ly unsuitable for purposes of fe-
uit. Immediately to the east.
lies the first of the Italian Rivi-
s major pleasure points, San Remo,
followed by a 150-mile stretch of equally
effervescent spas at which to continue
your quest of Liguria’s loveliest.

The girls of the Italian Riviera are a
much les polyglot congregat
their Cóte d'Azur coume
them are pure-blooded Talian ragazzas,
ily identifiable by their dark eyes and

) resorts

male pu

sensuous mouths, their sl

bicviated bikinis, th
complexions—and their actively
full-blown figures. You will find this
triguing Italian version of the Riviera
girl in magnificent profusion at the
open-air bars of San Remo's
Hotel and Santa Margheri
Nord-Est, sipping sweet red drinks or

nursing cups of hot espresso: the R
signorina is fundamentally a nondrink.

er. She at her bountiful best
evenings, when she appears cleg
tired at the many waterfront cafés
trattorias which form the focal poi
nightlife activity in such resort lo
San Remo, Diano Marina
na, Portofino and Levanto. For the girl
of the Italian Riviera, style is a fetish,
and she spends а far greater proportion
of her hard-earned lire on clothes than
does her Cate d'Azur cousin. Typically,
she takes great pains to ensure that her
beach of the latest and most ex-
pensive fashion, that her slacks are the
exact shade of pastel her ensemble re-
quires, and that her public image is best

les as
Alassio, Savo-

fitted to

rouse the ardor of even the
most jaded male admirer.

Though the majority of Italian girls
manage t0 preserve their innocence u
til they marry, the Italian Riviera draws
more than its [air female share of un
tached Slavs, Scandinavians. Rheinland-
Anglo-Saxons and Americans who
are less interested in being chaste than
chased. But they tend to be a trille more
sedate and sclective—though no less un-
inhibited—in their pursuit. of pleasure
than those who flock 10 France's shores.
Organized night life on the Halian Rivi-
era consists mainly of digging dubbed-in
movies and listening to strolling trouba
dours; thus, with litle else to do after
dak but pair oll ау Riviera girl
wants to make sure that she winds up
with the male admirer who merits her
evening’s undivided attentions.

The first and foremost female popula:
tion explosion along the Ligurian coast-
line occurs with seasonal regularity on
the beaches of San Remo, Italy's bohemi-
an equivalent of St-Tropez, in the heart
of the Riviera di Ponente (Coast of the

“Tm afraid Linda Sue's been working
too hard in the garden lately.”

129

PLAYBOY

130

Setting Sun). With the tourist trade as its
raison d'étre, San Remo entertains an
unending stream of bikinied beachniks
who li muliitoned. rows along
whitesanded strand and promen
cach afternoon up and down its palm-
lined drives and amid the Mediterra-
nean flora of its many public parks. At
c San Remo
tion at the
Canadian Tea
Room. Later in the evening. vour best
ber would be to single her out from
mong the throngs of twisting Tyrrhe-
nians who frequent crowded back-
street discothèques of the city's q
old quarter. But wherever you locate
‚ she'll probably be recept
or a Galli;
should p Y
‚И Meeting, friendship.

Another must on your Liguri:
erary is Genoa, the New Yor
Rivier

e to your
show

io. A

of the
Like the girl you left beh. u

Nice, the typical Genovese is a sophisti-
cued native of the Riviera, and her
tes are generally more cultural—and

more expensive—than those of other Li-
\ females, Her favorite haunts are
меу and empori-

Roma, Genoa's
counterpart of the fashion-

cosmopolita
able Prome
will. probably

and a lot more loot—to impress your fa-
vorite Genovese com but she's
likely to shower you ° same warm-
hearted affection that has made the
танап girl among the most sought-after
Circes on ihe. Continent.

Farther east, along Italy's exclusive
Riviera di Levante (Coast of the Rising
Sun), you come to that duster of seaside

village resorts which cater to the yacht-

gherita and Rap
counter the same luxury-loving brand of
sensual sun followers that. you dated at
Eden Roc or Mome Carlo. In Portofino,
they congregate at poolside and barside
in the lavish Hotel Splendido to make

plans—and strike up aequaintances—for
the evening. Just around the Portofino
promontory lie the other two play-
grounds of this resort triumvirate, Sant

Margherita and Rapallo, whose beaches
offer the most appealing
bikinicd, monokinied and
та girls found
along the It м.

no-ki

to be

perfect way to end your tour of
landscape is to charter
ng

the Ligurian
a hydrofoil from one of the boa
concessions at Portofino and, with a w
terspritely feminine companion as your
first mate, follow the coast down to
Riomaggiore and the eastern end of the
Italian Riviera. You'll then be an hour's
stroll from the internationally famed.
Cinqueterre vineyards; a latczafternoon
of Ils finest vin-
tages should put your seafaring parin
in the rig оой for the moonlight
voyage back to port in Portofino.

ln me final analysis, it won't really
matter whether your Ri
you nearest and dearest to the girls of
St-Tropez or San Remo, Monte Carlo
or Portofino: for its only the nearness
that counts. When the time comes for
au revoirs and arrivedercis, you'll unde

ry-

stand why fellow beauty lovers ev
where h
a land of incoi

“Why, John—of course you may bury me in the sand... !”

LOOK AWAY

(continued from page 60)

the woman—in a blue shift and sandals.
bare of head, arms and legs—jumped out
d waved both arms. 1 thought she
might jump up and down. I slowed, just
a little, and then floorboarded the accel-
and lunged p . The Negro
an gaped in astonishment. The
te woman waved and shouted, At the
Tt was Flora. Flo-
o. it could not be.

In my mirror I saw her stand waving
for à moment, then her arms slowly fell,
id. she, too, vanished. T slowed my с
bering the warn Don't even
approach the speed limit. In a moment I
turned imo a single-lane dirt road, and
The Buick station wagon
blurred by on the highway. Unwittingly,
I supposed, I had shaken my tail. I
stopped in the silence amd solitude. of
scrub pine and empty sky. and be

jumping jack beside a car, waving
stranger. ГА grow а beard and don san-
dals, and tell her someday. My laughter
died and 1 whispered her name. The old
remembered joys gentled and finally
misted the bleak unhappy pout
me. T had not forgouen. But I would
not see Flora, even if she called. 1 want-
ed no involvement down here, with rela-
tives, or strangers, or old girls. Bu
wasn't Flora. It couldn't have bee
would never expose herself so grotesque-
ly. Best forget, and do what I had to do.

I drove on, slowly, in the red ruued
road. ‘The church was out this way some-
where; or its ashes were. My tinted
windshield clouded the sky. It was 100
degrees out there, in that hungry, angry
and; inside the air-conditioned car, per-
haps 80. and blowing. I drove on. past
empty cotton fields and cornfields; heat
^g on tin rooftops; pas
tures, and cows in the shade of the oaks;
a dog dead in the ditch (buzzards cir-
ag above crow and а redbird;
shacks tumbling down (Gone to Chica-
go): а swamp, cypress growing in dark
ned water: tiger lilies and yellow da
sies, and stunted pine and oak in hot
bottomless forests as empty and hushed
s the day before cre:

Such was my land, and the land of
Flora, Ian Macdonald, Deputy Sheril
Fon Crane, the planter type, and the
grandfathers—the land of my childhood.
I always forgot, until 1 came back, and
even then the was hard and
slow in coming. like a doomed birth. I
always remembered the swing and the
sweet warm thighs, and the blackberries
on ditchbanks and the evening
porches—these 1 remembered with d
mth and the longing of a man for his
childhood. But the hard-borning memo-

waves. shimmerii

red

ries were the others: They were impossi-

ble—impossible the heat, fear and hate.
But in memory lay the omens of what T
would find here. Without w ing or

. I heard the memory cry: A hot
ıd a Ne nging from

n oak. Yes. I had seen it. It

the limb of

would not be denied. I sought other
d

istened for other voices: the
porches, and the slow tender voices of
haspit 4 hope. And saw the Ne-
gro’s festering, bloating body pendulant,
nging. a clock running down. I drove
on, in my sad, beloved, despised Land,
but still hoping that memory red.

The ashes of the church stained the
center of a grove of singed trees. The tin
panels of the roof were blackened and
twisted: fused glass glistencd in the sun-
the bell lay tongucless and mute
the ruins. I was utterly alone, in the
hush of deep country. 1 walked slowly
about, resurrecting the temple from its
ashes. Here to old Zion they'd come in
their wagons and their buggies, and later
in their old cars and trucks, little black
girls in white dresses, and men and wom-
cn more somberly clad. There at the
ne boards of their picnic table they'd
their Sunday-meeting dinners,
had heard their singing: Beulah land,
Lord, and the blood of the lamb. Here
at the edge of the grove Just Sleaping
lay the dust of Rebecca Alcorn, a slave
at birth, at death a handful of dust be-
neath artificial poinsettias. And there
Mother At Jesus Feet, here Lance Burl
beneath a pattern of oystershells, born a
slave, too, but now At Rest: here an in-
fant's unmarked grave, beneath a peb-
bled mound a child might have erected
at the seashore, forgotten, [ading and
dimming into the forest other unmarked
graves, sunken, weeded and lost.

Such was what (hey burned, when
they burned old Zion.

But still I could not yet assess and re-
ject. І wanted to know.

Down the road a mile or so I found
the home of Jerry Bu
Lance Burl who la
oystershells. Jerry Burl sat on the porch
of a 1 frame house painted
white. mendous blue hydrangeas
bloomed in the yard, beneath a tremen-
dous oak. Behind us stood Burls wife
just beyond the front screen, hazed and
dimmed, a shadow on shadow. She lis-
tened, but never spoke. A fresh sear rcd-
dened the black skin at Биз h.
cupped |

“So you found the church,
pa Burl’s grave. La

scene

эъ

he held a jaw )
nd Grand-
nce Burl had him two.

wives sold away from him in the slave
times, and after the War got him anoth-
er wife, my grandma. He founded. old
Zion, and he

hit his death of. pneu-
monia one day in February, Nineteen-
hundred, aged seventy, sittin on the

peak of the roof, repairin the shingles.
‘They put on a tin roof in Nineteen-
twenty. We keep his grave real neat. I
think the shells are right pretty. I can
just barely remember him, like a faded
picture i hed room, at tw
ght. The face just won't quite come up
out of the gloom, out of the past.

Jerry Burl’s eyes were marbled blue
with age. He wouldn't quite look at me.
I sat there and remembered James Bald-
win. James Baldwin said that they hated
all whites: that no white man ever in all
his life could really know a Negro. Pe
haps, I thought, James Baldwin was
wrong. I kept trying to know Jerry Burl,
I listened to his voice and searched in
his face. He wouldn't quite look at me.

“Tt was a mistake, a terrible mistake,
he said. He held his hand at his jaw, his
blued eyes on the glaring middle dis-
tance where the piny woods grew. “We
hadn't used that church buildin for no
Freedom School. Never used it so. And 1
never been in тош all my life,
with white or black. Always got along,
got along. Maybe I would like to vote,
Yes, but you know how things are
around here. They just don't want us to
vote. They just won't let us vote. And I
got land. I got sons and daughters.

"But they come anyway, Wednesday
о, after our leaders’ and
1. We broke up about ten
o'clock, and went out, and there was two
cars parked there in the driveway. The
men got out and one of um pulled me
Outen my car and said Where your
guards? And I said What for we need
And he said
You a goddamn liar and he hit mc up
here on the head with the barrel of his
pistol, and I went down on my knees,
not prayin, fallin, and heard my wife
scream. He hit me again, here on the
side of my fist, and I heard
nd saw men com-
in up omen the woods with guns. They
looked to be white, twenty or thirty of
um. And they dragged my wife outen
the car and I cried out Spare her, but
one of um said 10 her We goin to whup
you, too, we teach you to hold Freedom
Schools, and they hit me again and
kicked me, and held a club over my wile,
and she said Let me pray. And the man
said I's too late for p
Ivy never too late for prayin, and she
prayed. And the man said Leave her be,
and let him live. The good Lord an-
swered her prayers. But my jaw is all out
of whack. The teeth don't meet. I got to
see a doctor, or à dentist, or somethin.”

“Did you recognize any of them?”

1 heard a movement, a slight breath of
speech. Looking about, 1 saw that his
wile had left the doorway. The rectangle
of shadow was empty. I turned. back to
him. “Did you, Mr. Burl? Did you recog-
nize any of them?"

The ancient blued cycs flickered
across minc, and away. He sat silent,
holding his jaw. The lines of his face
were black chiseled in black. 1 repeated
my question again,

"Can I trust you?" he asked. "Can I
trust you, white man?”

“You can trust me.”

"Can I. white man? Really?" His eyes
gazed straight into mine, my turn
І wavered and looked away, remember-
ing James Baldwin. "I don't mean noth-
in personal, white man. You know
You know why I ask.”

ybe you do know. So I say
1 don't say it myself. I say what oth-
er folks say. And they say: There was a
policeman part of that crowd.’

“I just met a Deputy Fon Crane at the
courthouse, Mr. Burl.”

“You don't s

"Yes. Was he ihe officer there?

He sat still through a long pause. "It
t what I say," he whispered at last.
“It's what they say. I say nothin." He
sighed. "Except up in New York I got a
boy and a girl livin. You from New
York. Maybe you can call um." Once
more his eyes flickered and crossed mine,
and turned away. He gave me his chil-
dren's names, addresses and telephone
numbers, from memory, precisely, watch-
ing my pencil record them. “If you call
um, tell um their father's had a little
trouble, but hes mendin now."

And on my way to the motel that aft-
crnoon, outraged, enraged and sickened,
1 got lost. A tall, slow white man walked
to my car and stood in the hot Southern
sun and patiently and meticulously told
me the way. “You're welcome, suh, any
time.” He'd have carried me there on his
if Pd asked him. And that night in
the dini ress gave lessons
in the graces of hospitality, and at the
end said Thank you and come bac
when I paid my bill the cashier said
Thank you and come back, and 1 knew
that they meant every slow honeyed sylla-
ble that they spoke.

And I knew that if Pd met Deputy
Sheriff Fon Crane at time, un-
der a different sky, we might have
bought cach other drinks and ‘swapped
lies about cards and women and guns,
and the planter type would have served
me bourbon neat and fed me barbecue,
nd Jerry Burl would have bowed and
1 held my coat for me.
ach people,” I said, in my

noric

said Yes suh

Godd;
зоот

Т had Гогроцеп Flora, and the woman
side Ше Car.

It was carly twilight. Through the pic.
ture window of my room, outside in the
hot misted air, 1 could see white kids
п the swimming pool, and in
another quarter of the landscape, Negro
kids playing in the street. Above the

131

PLAYBOY

132 had been

hum of the air conditioner I could hear
their voices, without knowing which
came from white lips, which from col-
огей lips. The voices at least. were descg-
regated. The telephone rang. 1 went to
it, remembering, All the telephones
you'll use are tapped.

“All right, you bastard, what you doin
down here? You down here writin about
the nig

I sat down on my bed. She laughed. "T
just wanted you to know right off, Fred,
where you and I stand on a certain mat
Now we can forget it. Come on ou
and drink and be very merry.
Flora," 1 said. "Flora."

"Not necessarily in that
haps simultaneously. Fred,
up. I'm sorry if I offended you. Won't
you come out, plea

She pleaded. In numbness and anger.
night? No

I refused. Tomorrow
hi? Perhaps—if I had
faint click and scratch
Tapped, 1 whispered, tapped. Flora
shouted: What wits 1 saying? Nothing, 1
aid. Where was her husband? 1 asked.
He was out somewhere. He was always
out somewhere, these days. He had a ca
reer, and a cause. Did
didn't know. 1 should have. Please, Fred.
—1 couldn't be so closc, and not come to
see her. It wasn't right—it wasn't decent.
She had to sce me. She got so lonesome
sometimes, so longing for the old days.
Wouldn't I come? T said, "Call again,”
and hung up. with trembling fingers.

1 thought I could sce her fa

eyed and glowing, and faintly mocking.
with just cnough acid in the eyes and at
the mouth to flavor the honey in her
voice. Real Southern. Sultry Southern,
and knowing and sardonic. So 1 imag-
ned her, and slept poorly . . .
Flora in pigtails and a short white
skirt swung in a long swing made of a
rope and a quarter arc of old
bile tire. She was wearing no pants, but
I couldn't quite reach far enough to
touch. She was swinging naked by the
fect of a festering bloating black body,
laughing, flowing in honey and acid, far
away and very close, caressing the black
festering flanks and gazing out at me,
daring and mocking.

Any
ne. I heard
on the 1

лс.

" blue-

tomo-

Finally, again, the day glared. In the
swimming pool the white kids swam and
splashed, and shouted and laughed, and
in the street, before their shacks, the Ne-
gro kids pushed an old grocery cart
about, and shouted and laughed. The
Official, a man all bald head and
hospitality, assured me that the state and
local police could and would maintain
law and order, that Mississippi wanted
only the restoration of constitutional
government, that the outside Reds were
agitating and roiling up the nigras who
ppy and content all these

years, that he knew of no more loyal and
devoted body of men than the state and
local police, that there was one county,
the County of X. not far
from where we sat, where there was no
law, only bootleggers and white farmers
and tenant nigras where they even head-
lighted deers and по str
mure because there was
that godforsaken place and you could
k a body in it forever and many а
body would rise there among the cypress
and the ratlers and moci on the
final day of judgment when the last
wump sounded, and that the state's own
law-entorcement officials would main-
tain law and order, and that the report-
ers never told the truth about the South,
only lies, and that he was delighted 10
talk to me and come back any time.
The Executive Director: Shriner's di-
mond pin in his lapel, on his wall a cer-
üficme of membership in the chamber
of commerce, a portrait of General Lee,
and a photograph of his son in boyscout
uniform, the Southern air conditioned
by machine and honeyed by hospitality.
“We've been invaded every summer for
ten yea we'll win this invasion,
just as we've won all of with
another triumph for constitutional gov-
ernment and law and order, Our local
and state police are a splendid band of
men. They are fully ir.
of handling any emergency . . . Gla
talk to you, suh. Come back, any time.”
Flora: We would sit in the shade of
the evening and talk New York and
magnolias moonlight, sta
catfish, Tan's couon
Would I
At the

and

um,

ally for The C

band play ixie and Darktown Strul-
ters’ Ball but not the nal anthem.
Full-voiced. full-bodied, they sang Wish
I was in the land o cotton, and jelly roll
blues, though the tractor was now in the
cotton, and jelly roll down in New Or-
Jeans meant men and women togethcring,
man—roaring the contradiction and the
obscenity in the restless cool conditioned
air, whooping and hollering among the
Confederate flags couchant upon their
staffs, while the Hi-Steppers from The
College all legs and breasts stepped high,
silencing and stilling for prayer (Give us
peace, O Lord, and freedom [rom agita-
tors), and holl 1 whooping aga
for The Candidate: Return to constitu-
tional government; they'd listen to the
South again someday, they'd know some-
day we were the country's last hope,
Lord God of hosts be with us yet, God
bless Mississippi amd her fine law-en-
forcement. officers.

On the telephone: Flora's iterated
vitation, and the faint scratch and click
of the tapped linc. 1 said "No," and
goodbye. Flora hung up. 1 waited, and
laughed. A man's voice, small and rc-

mote, said, "You soi
of town.”

of a bitch, get out

n the
Some-

IC was 92 degrees at 9 o'clock
morning, the air heavy and wet
thing had to happen, to surrender, some
where. Ar 11 the clouds were swelling
and blackening over the city, and at
11:30 lightning and thunder came down
upon us, and in a few minutes a blind-
ing. gray. lush rain. The temperature
dropped 24 degrees in five minutes, but
it would be hot again before night. A
sorrowful man said: “I wish T could
to you, I wish 1 could be your friend.
There are some of us—perhaps
us. We don't like what's goi
ivd ruin me—destroy me. They own the
legislature, the governor, the Se
and the Congressm nd every
officer in the state. I even had to go to
that rally last night, and bellow along
with the rest of um. I'm sorry, suh. 1 just
can't take the chance.” The mi
close to tears. Really a rather lugu

performance, altogether, Perhaps he ex-
gerated. Perhaps he didn't. In another

erent sky, we mi
have gone fishing together.

The day was already heating up again.
Vould you,” the man asked, impal-
me with a pair of Negro eyes,
vould you trust your life to these splen-
did local officers?"

Here was another Е wanted to
know. I knew his name: Floyd Ander-
son. Would James Baldwin permit n
know him as more than a 1 nd
organism? The Negro cyes awaited my
answer, amused, mocking amd patient.
They were the new Negro eyes. Fd never
seen them in the South of my childhood.
That South was now suddenly the Old
South. In that Old South the questions
were never asked. Everybody knew, and
was silent. The Negro swung festering
and pustulant at the end of his rope,
and nobody cared.

1 told Floyd Anderson that I didn't
k L would trust my life to these
1 officers. No, I did not feel
entirely safe. Not even in a house called
Frecdom t of all in that
house. In the lintel of the front door
there was a quite neat pattern of six bul-
let holes. At a front corner there was a
black, lacerated bomb scar. It w
small dingy white frame house in th
colored scc rutted
street. P.
cars, bloa
fashion of a few y go. They had
rought 18 volunteers, to a revolution.
Floyd Anderson left me to answer a
telephone. An old amusing befuddled
question asked itself: What am I doing

‘This wasn't my fight. It was thei
asc. It was theirs. I didn't
even trust causes; І didn't wust people
with causes. The falcon eye, the hard
purpose in the face, the hard evangelis-

tic voice, the single obdurate adamant
cure for all ills—the total preposterous
paraphernalia of Cause repelled me,
provoked my hard and resisting hostility
4 mistrust, and sent me fleeing to the
reasonable, the sane, the uncommitted
But here 1 stood, and remembered the
labor union I had covered once in the
South, years ago: the dingy rooms fur-
nished with broken furniture, lighted by
а single naked bulb hanging from a wire
to а Myspecked ceiling; the clutter of
pamphlets and booklets; the total devo-
tion and disarray of the people and their
methods and their utterances; and fm:
ly, the sullen defeat. Just so here: a card
table holding stacks of pamphlet
gutted and spilling itself upon the dingy
the frenetic stir and rush of bodies
d voices; the ignant telling of
tales: police brutality and commercial
conspiracy against the Cause, the People.
But deleat? here? Perhaps not. Yet why
did they wy, in a hot hostile land?
They wore sandals. sneakers, Levis,
shifts, shorts, sweat shirts and jerseys
bearing the names and crests of distant
colleges, and long straight female hair
hanging doorlike about tired melan
choly unpainted faces, and shaggy uncut
male hair above hornrimmed glasses
And they were young—younger by far
than the CIO organizers—and dedicated
and so [ar unscarred. And they were
black and white all together. No wonder
Mississippi hated the
I turned back to Floyd Anderson, who
was speaking softly into the telephone,
his fingertips lightly holding the black
cord. His father was a dentist in Jackson-
ville, Flor slight, tan Negro
whom I could imagine singing We Shall
Overcome, and swaying and lamenting,
and dancing with a snapping of his
fingers—a wound-up spring of a man,
with a beard. А beard, and а Negro, and
a Cause, in the South. He was studying

la. He was

for his doctors degree at Harvard. He
would write his thesis on Keats. In my

Old South a Negro as anything mor
than a servant or a laborer had been
unthinkable. You just couldn't have
tegrated Keats and Floyd Anderson.

“So you're afraid,” he said, returning
to me, amused and sardonic. "But you
have a right to be here, don't you

‘OF course | do.”

“So do we. We carry no club, no gun,
no bomb. They are the lashers, the bomb
аз, the Yet many of you
whites say we ought to stay at home. We
ought to be prudent, to wait. What in
hell are we doing here? I'll tell you what
we're doing here, white man. We're
teaching the Negroes child care, nutr
tion, Negro history—God
knows they'll never get that down here—
and we're helping them get the vote.
What's so bad about that?”

I was making dutiful notes.

“So а cat named Joc gets himself ar-

murderers.

rested for assaulting Sam, and Joe cries
out Sam hit me on my fist with his chin.
You sec? We are shot, bombed and
murdered. We are arrested just for being
here, and thrown ail, and if we're
white the jailer delivers us into the
hands of the white drunks in a cell and
says Boys here's a niggerlover, you know
what to do with him. And so the drunk
en citizens in that cell beat the blood
and the brains out of us, And the Negro
ones of us are beaten by the cops them-
selves. And ihe cops and every mothe
other one of ‘em cries Foul, and In
sion, and Subversion . . . So you've
talked to Jerry Burl.”

I looked up at him, startled.

“Well, Jerry Burl lied to you,
smiling and nodding, mocking, watch
ng. "Don't be so shocked, white man.
Everybody lies, down here in this coun-
uy. The history of the South is one loi
uninterrupted lie, White to black. Blick
to white, The Negro tells the white man
what he thinks he wants to hear, and the
white man tells the Negro what he
thinks he ought to hear. But some of us
have stopped lying, white man, and the
whites don't like what they're hearing,
and the Negroes don't like what they're
They'd been using old Zion for
1 spoke there once myself. Old
Burl was right there in the Amen corner,
ting his foot and nodding and saying
Amer

“But I was going to write it the way
he told me. He told me a lie, and would
have let me believe it and write it.”

"Yes. Who can you trust, now, down
here? Any time. Just yourself
white man, and mes not even
yourself. I don't trust. you.

“But why'd he lie to me?"

Anderson shrugged. "He thought you
wanted to hear it that way, perhaps. Or
perhaps he lost his nerve.”

Can you blame him?”

I've been beaten, too."

He looked at me square and hard, un-
forgiving and scornful.

“TH be beaten again.”

No,” E began, but he went on

“I'm on my way back out to old Zion
now. I've got to talk to him about his
case. We're going to file suit. You want

he said,

out? give me а lih?”
1 couldn't do that. Pd compromise
my position,
Floyd Andersoi

ited and nodded. 1
protested: 1 couldn't afford 10 get in
volved. 1 couldn't let myselt become
identified with either side.

“Don't sweat it," he said. "Don't sweat
white man."

laughing at me, bent and taut,

7 id bloodless against the

aty of his teeth. "You know
somethin, wl * he said, speak-
g Southern Negro now. "You know
somethin? This heres Hospitality

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133

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134 ing else at all,

Month down here in this great state.
Hospitality Month. And I'm going out
and look ata burned church and talk to
a old man that they beat the hell outen.
And they gonna follow me out there,
maybe, and someday they gonna arrest
me again, and beat the hcl outen me
again, and maybe slit my throat and drop
me in a swamp. Yes, suh, boss, yes, suh
cap'n, hallelujah, praise de Lawd . .

“TIL come." I said to Flora, at last,
when she called that evening. “I'll come,

"The Cause, and if you won't
Red agitators and black niggers.

“Grant me just one tecnsy-weensy lit-
tle laugh,” she said. “What's black and
white and red all over? Give up? The
Methodist church, these days, Get it?
ow've just lost me.”
‘Oh, Fred, for God's s
nd tiresome.”
I went. Faintly in the moist eve
r hung the scent of honeysuckle. A
nightingale would sing, and the darkies
would chant and dance in the quarters.
But at the Macdonalds’ the ladies would
weep no more, the darkies would sing no
more, Theirs was no white Southern
mansion. They lived in one of those
houses that look $20,000 and cost
$100,000—a ranch house, large, long, low,
straight and Hat that rambled about in
a grove of oaks, maples and magnolias.
‘The Buick station wagon stood in the
driveway, and behind it a black Conti-
nental 1 had seen this place in a
hundred magazines and in a thousand
places. Because it was everywhere,
nowhere, At the moment it filled a need:
1 wanted. to be nowhere.

Beyond the screen of the front door

е, don't be

waited the figure of a woman, like the
figure of Mrs. Jerry Burl beyond her
screen. She was leaning against the door

frame, one leg crossed behind the other.
arms crossed and clasped beneath her
bosom—dimmed, hazed and softened
against darkness. She was a Rubens
figure now—no more the Mod

ashion ads—and perhaps, I thought,

ш. a New Orleans whore wait

r crib.
Watching and waiting, smiling in
faint mockery, she let me walk the

breadth of the flagstone terrace. Then,
with a grand slow movement, she swung
the screen open. She embraced me,
ised me, wetly and largely, upon my
ps and with an arm hooked through
mine led me into the house.

“You never did approve of me, did
you, Fred? Fm not sure 1 approved of
you. But the question never c
did it? I promised I wouldn'
youknow-what . .." She talked under
some compulsion or other, gushing and
She was dressed in sandals
and a white shift and, I thought, noth-
"a but E just couldn't

breathless.

take it any longer. ] was living in con-
stant fear. Not of being hurt. Oh, no. I
could always take care of myself. But
fear of being touched by one of them.
You sce? You understand, Pred?
She had led me into a long, wide liv-
ing room that was pure Scandinavi
all low, long lines dark blond wood,
and brass and stainless steel. On cach
side the room was walled by a vast slid
ing door of glass, one looking toward the
road, one toward a terrace that sloped
way into the gloom of the grove. The
ies were out: they Mickered and
like tiny distant Christmas
lights. Beyond them a forest grew, bend
ing away and down into running water,
ar stood next to a tremendous fir
place that had never been used. The
room itself seemed unused, an aban-
doned way station of some sort. Flora

was pouring dr Her shift was
straight, plain and full, but it might as
well have been transparent. In faint

the suggested movements. of
nst fabric, I could see what lay
ad I whispered an oath to my-
sell, for an old lost delight. She turned,
paused, her lips parted, and nodded а
laughed. “But Fred," she whispered, “be
careful how you look at me. Remembe
Im a married lady now. A married
Southern. lady

Black hair and blue eyes, olive skin
ripe, sweet and sour as a lemon drop—
Flora. We drank together. Bourbon and
nch water. I had forgotten its author-
I welcomed it, just now
"I want you to understand, Fred," she
id. "I want you to understand because
I'm still fond of you.” She sipped her
drink and looked away. “We're raised to
the touch. You know how we're
sed. Momma tells her daughter horro
stories about colored men and what they
do, because her momma told her, and
re to tell our daughters, and the men
believe them, too. You can't blame us,
Fred. Please don't blame us."

don't care, Flora. Goddamn it, 1

don't care anymore. Coming South has
made me not care.”

curves, in
lesh ag
beneath,

fe:

Do you care if you don't care
I feel guilty.”
“You damn liberals. You're all just a

big old sweet bag of guilts you are,
honey."

She walked about the room, swin
her hips, swinging her drink. She was
lkiug Southern girl now, with that
sometimes amusing, sometimes cloying
and frustrating, rise of inflection at the
ends of sentences, where other voices
dropped. The odd chandike rhythm of
it left you eternally suspended above a
height, waiting for an end that never
came. Perhaps it was all part of a game
they played. She sipped and pouted, and
drank. We refilled our glasses, and lisien-
ing to her Southern girl talk, watching
the beautiful suggestion of movement
beneath her shift, I remembered my

dream of he
she could sw

She could: metaphorically,
E by the feet of a lynched
Negro. Metaphorically, she and all her
kind had swung by those dead black feet
all their lives. Christ, I whispered to my-
self, and die husband entered.

lan Macdonald was ordinary, I
ered: handsome, precise, just
Right height, right coloring.
weight. right voice. Ordinary. In
slacks, white shirt, blue crested blazer.
He could have appeared with Flor
one of he Harpers Bazaar, per
haps. with a gin and tonic in his hand
in the background a Continental and a
white house, Everywhere, and nowhere.

“Well, Mr. Ives," he said, at the bar,
"you don't seem to have lost your South-
ern accent. І can’t say the same for Flo-
ra. She came back ending every sentence
with Already yet, and speaking of Yurp
and Teh

"Oh. Ian. for God's sake . . 2"

“The longer I stay around here," I
said, "the deeper my good old Southern
accent gets. A sort of oral protective
coloration."

“I'm sure you need no protection
here. Mr. Ives."

Flora laughed, but she stood in the
wings now, for suddenly my talk was with
the man. He was so solemn 1 was certain
he had been offended. I was rather sur-
prised, and pleased. Ruffle his feathers a
lite, 1 said to myself. Pull that slick
blond hair down over those pale blue
eyes. Perhaps | spoke with the authority
of the bourbon. Perh
had Flora and I didn’t. I had loved her.
1 loved her again.

“It's dangerous to talk Y
here,” 1 said. “Ied be like talking Eng-
lish at the Kremlin. Do you know a
deputy sheriff named Fon Crane, Mr.
Macdonald? He wears a gun and a

ng-eagle
а fine, dedi

right.
right

ted officer of the

Who beats up old men and burns
churches.

"Oh. | see"
and drinking,

he whispered, flushing
nd then gazing into his
“L see. You have been getting
haven't you?” The coat of arms
blazer was Harvard's. Veritas. 1
remembered, with the authority and the
glee of the bourbon, the Harv
had met two hours befo
Ph.D. The Keats man. I had forgouen
Flora.
Ah, fair Harvard,” I said. "Do you
pen to know a fellow alumnus of
yours named Floyd Anderson?"
Don't believe I know an Anderson."

“Oh, Fred, cut it out. Jan's only Har-
vard Business.”

"Flora! Come to think of it, Mr. Ives,
1 believe 1 do know a Floyd Anderson.
Could it be the same man?”

"You boys arc sure hitting it off, aren't
you

"Could be," I said.

“Where'd you mect him, Mr. Ives?
“At Freedom House. He's a Negro.
“Oh, God" Flora sid, from the
pilis of disgust, “You promised.”
"You promised." I said. “Floyd Ander-
son wis going out into the country this
afternoon 10 investigate the burning of
the church, and the beating of the old
man. Mr. Macdonald.

He was mixing himself another drink-
He ignored my empty glass. 1 went to
his side and mixed my own,

u know the cases?” D asked.
They were never reported (o the
police."

“Perhaps with good reason

“Our police are very clicient”

“So Гуе heard, in certain endeavors.

“Oh. goddamn it, Fred," Flora cried.

Can't we be friends?"
How can they
т reported to

“He's going to file s
you, Mr. Macdonald, he and his army.
Nor just in the baule, in the war.

“Fred, Lan,” Flora shouted, bounding
between us, “cut it out, right now. lan,
let me tell you about Fred. Fred's going
to write а great novel about the South.
About a white boy and a colored boy
growing up together, playing together,
hunting and fishing together. And then
sep: ad the white boy coming
back and finding out that he and the
colored boy are now strangers, enemies,
even, and fighting over the same high-
yaller wench and fighting over civil
pts and all tha
Ivs heen done,

ate a crime if it

vesti,

them:

And he'll lick

Т said. "It's been

done a thousand times.
And Fred, let me tell you
Jan's going to be the next governor, and
then a Senator. It's all worked out. He
has two passions, mathematics and рої
ties. He's written a book. did you know
called The Nature of Numbers, and
was published by the Harvard Unive
sity Press, And he publishes a magazine,
the Southern Cilizen."

“He publishes thaw?”

“He does indeed. Isn't that gr

Her husband stood as cold and
а corpse against the bar. 1 was 1
to see how angry he was. His face was
white, his lips bloodless and thin. “Yes,
he said, coldly, with cold control, "ni
book sold five thousind copies. Quite a
sale. they tell me, for a university press
book. And my magazine has a circul
of two hundred and three thon-

sp y day, all over
y. And did you know that two
ibers multiplied always produce
1 even number, an odd number and
even number multiplied always produce
an even number. but two odd. numbers,
even the same odd numbers. multiplied,
always produce ап odd number. that
there's a genetics to it, of a sort, as there
is in human multiplication, and did you
know that integration has never in histo-
ry succeeded in strengthening a commu
nity or a nation, that even in Africa the
white-conuolled Republic of South Afr
ca is more productive and prosperous
than the entire remaining continent,
that miscegenation has been a [actor in
the decline of past civilizations such a

bout I

ion

owing eve

even nu

е. India and Por

Egypt, G

‚аһ and Guba have long
been centers of miscegenation, that inte
Чоп would result in miscegenation

nd a mongrelized population. without
pride of race, nation or religion, and
would thus weaken the United. States.
and that when the Communists take
over our country theyll tum the South
over to the niggers. Please excuse me. I
make a telephone call."

He put down his
out. 1 whispered to myself, The man
really believes. he really believes .. .
Flora stood before me dimmed and
haved, her arms crossed again beneath
her breasts. She nodded, slowly, with a
profound sadness, touched by a trace of

lass and marched.

defiance in the tilt of her face. "Now
you know." she whispered.
"He's going to be governor? Senator?

ad vou his Fady
"Me his lady. 1 can put up with some
gs in exchange for other
re they worth i
You know they arc. And perhaps 1
wont be putting up with anyth
all. Let us drink, Fred. Let us dri
"Are vou alraidz"
‘OF him? Oh, no. He's а gentlem
gentle man."
"And vou
"Let us dr
“Are you afraid to disagree with him?
with the others down here:
“I might be. body else is. But I
might also agree with him. Let us drink,
red." We drank.
lan Macdonald called from another

thi

things.

love him.”

^... forget for a moment that I am J. Griswold

Kle

Industr

ley, president of Amalgamated Titinium
es and chairman oJ the board . . ."

135

PLAYBOY

136 for another moment, and tu

room. She went out—with unseemly
haste, it seemed to me—and above the
hum of air conditioning 1 heard the slow
low sounds of their voices. 1 wanted very
much to hear their words. They re-
turned ıo the room. He bowed in my di-
rection, his blue eyes as sightless as glass
and off in their aim by about ten de
grecs. "Mi. Ives, 1 must tender my apol-

ics. A matter of pressing business . .
My wife must now be both host and
hoses. Please come back to see us

1 wish to do the man no injustice. He
is no doubt a gentleman, and a gentle
man, after his fashion. Bur I swear (re
membering the stiffened body and the
tight bloodless lips) that he would not
1 if he had ¢
heels, shot his hand out in the Nazî sa
lute, amd yelped “Heil Hitler!” Perhaps
I had seen too many late movies, but
just so he left. without the ceremony but
with the spi

Flora and I drank, in silence, st
by a stale, warped presence: we w
for the return of something lost.
spirit between us was dead: it
hard. Dinner was candlelit, upon a long
blond board, served by black shadows,
We drank wine the red of cher nd
ate beel red and bloody as a wound and
Flora's lips. А haze, a glitter and а glim-
mer, settled upon the night. in the room.
АП surfaces were heated hard and
ight. Somewher how, we crossed

ked his

ve surprised

som
a frontier; we gazed at cach other, cating
and waiting. We ate a great. deal.
But in the living room she stood
apart, at the broad back window, look-
ing out upon the terrace and the forest.
We were still waiting, I thought; listen-
ing and waiting. Faintly I could hear the
talk and the clatter of the servants, and.
the air conditioning like bees in clove
“He won't be back for а long timc,
she said at last. "He has nd he
has а girlfriend. I have neither. Southern
white ladies have no causes, and no

caus

dlin, boozy pity swelled up
strong enough to choke me. | went to
nd put my hands on her shoulders.
She swept them off, trembling
исар. No, she shouted

she turned to the window again. “The
mosquitoes out there would cat you
alive right now," she said. In a moment
three figures moved across the dimmed
landscape, at the far edge of the terrace,
like the children of Israel in Green Pas-
ture and a man, black. Her
eyes followed them until they vanished,
if off stage. “They toic. enough. stuff
home with them in those umbrellas to
feed the whole block," she said, with a
tough, short laugh.

"Perhaps they need to.

She almost lost me again, with her
gh. 1 declined to be lost. She waited
ned.

d re-

io, no.

two мот

"Now, Fred, now, now, and now

Again T slept poorly. I dreamed
reams clamorous with chaos, with cries
and crimson flamings and flashings. Red
serpents and red mouths, raw wounds
and a black ick. body
swinging, a scarlet woman coiled about
it like a serpent, nude, brazen and un
speakable. T awoke with a cry. The taste
of stale oil was in my mouth; my stom

ich and head were in flames. Tom
juice, red and cold, was all I could swal-
low. “You wan't hungry.

said the waitress. “Well. than

noose, and a b|

come back." I would go home now, and
not come back. 1 would leave unfinished
business. Dehi: ked, and

weakness a
again. 1 would ç
cue her? In was
and. preposterot

longed for F'ora
to her. Ri
1 old and melodramatic
notion, in the light of

day, but it held me, pensive, with grow-
ing determination. | closed my bag and

my typewriter and set them beside the

door, and sat upon my bed, the tele-
phone at my right hand. li wouid be
now, and forever, or never. T heard the

children's integrated. voices again, white
and bl: lora, How did she feel?
what did she believe? what did she be-
I would find out. I reached for
the telephone, just as it rang.

I hoped, of course, with
joy and anticipation. Instead 1 heard
myself addressed by a harsh, alien voice
that, omitting the amenities, rushed 10
its message: "Im calling the reporters
and writers 10 tell them that Floyd Ar
«1 опе of the volunteers, Lewis
Niles, have disappeared, ar and
has been found sunk in
swamp ten miles southeast of here. They
went to the church late yesterday after-
noon and interviewed some people out
there, and just v xl sometime early
in the night. W ing the FBI...”

My arm straightened; my fingers
opened, and the telephone dropped mto
из cradle. E walked slowly to my door,
past my bag and typewriter, and out to
my car, and sat sweating in it for a long
i ispered, finally, as if
ig a speech I would make, some-
lora, T did a terrible deed. I be-
ırayed them. He made me angry and I
betrayed them. We betrayed them.
somehow we've got to m
drove out through the town and the
county. 1 spoke an absurd line, alone in
the Gu: “Come away with me. Fly away
with me. Look away." I parked before
the house and crossed the lawn. On the
hom terrace E stopped, looking through
the vast window into that vast living
room. I saw a table cluttered with the
scraps and the tools of breakfast. Two
half-filled glasses of tomato juice, red
and cold, stood beside the plates. Flora
and her husband sat on a long sofa. He
still wore his blue blazer. Their heads
were close together. Once (hey looked

aming of

then car

bout, as they talked, their eyes flashing
and seeking. Then they were together
ain, whispering. Not in affection, 1
close and inseparable. There was some
thing practical and businesslike about
r dinging images the ıwain, bound.
king and queen of nothing, nowhe

“Oh, Christ,” I said. “Oh, Christ,”
left them forever.

In my room | called once more. 2
servant answered. I asked for Flora.
Faintly on the line I heard again a whis-
per, а tiny scrape and scr In a mo
ment Flora. answered, and slow.
perhaps n in her

с
cool
faint cant

"I said, “I had to call you. I
had 10 speak to you again.”
“Perhaps you shouldn't, Fred.”
“Flora, my darling, FI never forget"
“Fred, please.
Will you forge!
е?”
Oh, Fred, of course I won't forget.
Fred. you mustn't.”
“I finally agreed to go last n

Will you ever for

ight for

one reason only. Flora. Because we used
10 slecp together
ed, please, but yes, we did, didn't

s, yes."
1 then ag
Will you ever Iç

"No, Fred, 1 won't forget.”
Will you see me again?"
Perhaps. Someday
ога, my phone is tapped."

I hung up, and sat staring at it. In a
moment it began ringing. I rested my
hand upon it feeling it vibrate to the
sound of bells. My fingers closed about
it but my hand did not lift. I bowed
my head. Perhaps 1 was one of them
now. Perhaps they had made me from
birth one of them. s a joke,"
whispered, "a jok ^ dirty joke,
and nobody was laughing. 1 clutched the
phone. Let it keep ringing. 1 was safe, so
long as it rang. At any time 1 could pick
it up and say to Flora, "Fm sorry, my
dear.” But 1 was lost among them, with
him, in their filth. li rang, and it stopped.
ringing. 1 walked out the doo

Thank you, and come back,
cashier,

1 last night, Flora.

id the

y to the airport 1 turned on
lio for the news. Instead I got a
Wg prayer meeting. Our Southe

esbyterian

people are very rel
was

preache
to be ali
I turned. it off
just in time for the next plane ou
stained water of the swamps receded
beneath the wings. The crecks coiled
like rampant dragons on an Or
screen. The forests spread,
and closed upon the land. Perhaps 1 will
never know what 1 want to know. Per-
haps I will know only that 1 will never
be young again, and that I will never
be dean again.

“Uh—Mr. Fitman, would you mind doing
your push-ups somewhere else?”

137

PLAYBOY

THE GOLDEN GUN (continued pom page 90)

Unless, that is, you were screwin' her.
He raised one eyebrow.

Anything wrong with that?
What h. h the Chi-
nese girl? Playing mahjongg?” Bond got
to his fect. He stitched impatience and
outrage on his face in equal quantic
“Now look here, Mr. Scaramanga. I've
had just about encugh of this. [ust stop.

leaning on me. You go around waving
that damned. gun of yours and. acting

ke God Almighty and insinuating a lot
of tommyrot about the Secret Service
xd you expect me to kneel down and
lick your boots. Well, my f
come to the wrong address. 1f
satisfied with the job I'm doing, just
hand over the thousand dollars and T'I
be on my way. Who in hell «уои think

smiled his thin, cruel
be getting wise to that
sooner than you think, shamus.” He
shrugged. "OK, OK. But just you re-
member this, mister. If it turns out
you're not who you say you are, ГШ blow
you to bits. Get me? And TII start with
the little bits and go on to the bigger
ones. Just so it lasts a heck of a long
time, Right? Now you'd better get some
shuceye. Гуе got a meeting with Mi
Hendriks at ten in the conference room,
And 1 don't want to be disturbed. After
that the whole party gocs on an excu

sion on the railroad I was tellin’ you
bout. It'll be your job to see that that
seis properly organized. Tatk to the

manager first thing. Right? OK. then. Be
seeing ya." Scaramanga walked into the
clothes cupboard, brushed Bond's suit
le and disappeared. There came a de-
dick from the next-door room.
Bond got to his feet. He said “Phew!
at the top of his voice and walked off
into the bathroom to wash the last two
hours away in the showe

He awoke at 6:30, by arrangement with
that curious extrasensory alam clock
that some people kecp im their heads
and that always seems to know the exact
time. He put on his bathing trunks and
went out to the beach and did his long
swim again. When, at 7:15, he saw Scara-
manga come out of the east wing fol.
lowed by a boy carrying his towel, he
made for the shore. He listened for the
twanging thump of the wampoline and
then, keeping well out of sight of it, en-
tered the hotel by the main entrance
1 moved quickly down the corridor to
100m. He listened at his window to
° sure the man was still exercising,

cisive

ma
then he took the master key Nick Nichol-

son had given him and slipped across
the corridor to number 20 and was
quickly inside. He left the door on the
Hatch. Yes, there was his target, lying on
the dressing table, He strode across the
room, picked up the gun and

ipped

138 out the round in the cylinder that would

next come up for firing. He put the gun
down exactly as he had found it, got
back to the door, listened, and then was
out and across the corridor and into his
own room. He went back to the window
nd listened. Yes. Scaramanga was still at
. It was an amateurish ploy that Bond.

1 executed, but it might gain him
just that action of a second that, he
felt it in his bones, was going to be life
or death for him in the next 24 houn.
In his mind, he smelled that slight whiff
of smoke that indicated 1 cover

was smoldering at the edges. At any mo-
ment “Mark Накай of World Con-
sortium” might go up in flames like

some clumsy effigy on Guy Fawkes Night
ıd James Bond would stand there, re
vealed, with nothing between him and a
possible force of six other gunmen but
his own quick hand and the Walther
PPK. So every shade of odds that he
could shift to his side of the board
would be worth while. Undismayed by
the prospect, in fact rather excited by it,
he ordered a large breakfast, consumed
it with relish and, after pulling the con-
necting pin out of the ball cock in his
atory, went along to die managers
осе.

Felix Leiter was оп ашу. Не рахе а
gerial smile and said, "Good

thin m
morning, Mr. Hazard. Can I help you
Ë were looking beyond Bond,
ight shoulder. Mr. Hendriks
materialized at the desk before Bond
could answer.
Leiter said, "Good morning.”

Mr. Hendriks replied with his little
ermanic bow. He said. “The tele
phone operator that there is

а long-distance call fr office in
Havana. Where is the most private place
tO take it, pliss?”

"Not in your bedroom, sit?”

“Is not sufficiently private.

Bond guessed that he, too, had bowled
out the microphone.

Leiter looked helpful. He came out
from behind his desk. “Just over he
sir, The lobby telephone. The box is
soundproof

Mr. Hendriks looked stonily at him.
“And the machine. That also is sound-
proof?"

Leiter looked politely puzzled. "I'm
afraid 1 don't understand, sir. It is con-
nected directly with the operator."

15 no matter. Show me, plis." Mr.
Hendriks followed Leiter 10 the far cor-
ner of the lobby and was shown into the
booth. He carefully closed the leather-
padded door and picked up the receiver
and talked into it. Then he stood wait-
ing, watching Leiter come back across
the marble floor and speak defer
to Bond. “You were

“I's my lavatory. Something wrong
with the ball cock. Is there anywhere
else?

m my

"I'm so sorry, sir. ТЇЇ have the house
engineer look at it at once. Yes, certai
ly. There's the lobby toilet. The decor:
tion isn't completed and it's not officially
in use, but it’s in perfectly good working
order" He lowered his voice. "And
there's a connecting door with my office.
Leave it for ten. minutes while I
back the tape of what this basta
ing. 1 heard the call was соті
through. Dont like the sound of it. Mz
be your worry.” He gave a little bow and
waved Bond toward the central table
with magazines on it. “IE you'll just take
а seat for a few moments, sir, and then
ke care of you.”

d nodded his thanks and turned
In the booth, Hendriks was tlk
ing. His eyes were fixed on Bond with a
terrible intensity. Bond felt the skin
crawl at the base of his stomach. This
was it, all right! He sat down and picked
up an old Wall Street Journal. Surrept

tiously he tore а small piece out of the
center of page one. It could have been a
icar at the crossfold. He held the paper
up at page two and watched Hendriks
through the lule hole.

Hendriks watched the back of the pa
per and talked and listened. He sudd
ly put down the receiver and came out
of the booth. His face gleamed with
sweat. He took out a clean white hand-
kerchiel and ran it over his face and
neck and walked rapidly off down the
corridor

Nick Nicholson, as neat as a pin, came
across the lobby and, with a courtly
smile and a bow for Bond, took up hi
place behind the desk. It was 8:30. Five
minutes later, Felix Leiter came out
from the inner office. He said something
to Nicholson and came over to Bond.
There was a pale, pinched look round
his mouth. He said, "And now, if you'll
follow me, sir.” He led the w
the lobby, unlocked the men'sroom
door, followed Bond in and locked
door behind him. They stood ¢ the
work by dhe washba
tensely, “I guess youve had
Ја They were talking Russian, but
your name and number kept on cop-
ping up. Guess you'd better. get out of
here just as quickly as that old jalopy of
yoursll carry you.

Bond smiled thinly. “Fore
fos Felix. I knew
Hendriks has been told to rub me
old friend at K.G.B. headqu;
chasni it in for me. TII tell you
why one of these days.” He told Leiter
of the Mary Goodnight episode of the
hours. Leiter listened. gloomily.
Bond concluded, “So there's no object in
getting out now. We shall hear all the
dope and probably their plans for me at
this mee they've got this
d. Perse

across

sins. Le

rned is
t already.
Our
ters, Semi-

armed,

excursion bu ally,
1 guess the shooting mateh'll take place
somewhere out in the counuy wh

there are no witnesses. Now, if you and
Nick could work out something that'd
upset the Away Engagement, ГА make
myself responsible for the home pitch.”
Leiter looked thoughtful. Some of th
cloud lifted from his face. He said,
know the plans for this afternoon. Off
on this miniature train through th
fields, picnic, then the boat out of Green
Island. Harbor, deepsea fishing and all
that, Гуе reconnoitered the route for it
all.” He raised the thumb of his left
hand and pinged the end of his steel
hook thoughtfully. “Ye-e-es. lis going to
mean some quick action and a heap of
luck and TI have to get the hell up to
Frome for some supplies from your
friend Hugill. Will he hand over some
m so? OK, then. Come into
my office and write him a note. I's only
а half hours drive and Nick can hold
the front desk for that time, Come on.”
He opened a side door and went
through into his office. He beckoned
Bond to follow and shut the door be-
hind him. At Leiter's dictation, Bond
took down the note to the mans
the West Indian Sugar Company sugar
es and then went out through the
1d along to his room. He
ht bourbon and
nd looked ui

ir on

washroom

took а stron

nip of stra

saton the edge of hi
seeingly out of the window and across the
lawn to the sea's horizon. Like a dozing
ound chasing a rabbit in its dreams, or
like the audience at an athletics meeting
that lifts a leg to help the high jumper
over the bar, every now and then his
tched involuntarily. In hi
a variety of imagined ci
‚ it was leaping for his gun

James Bond gave
His eyes came back into focu
looked at his watch. It said 9:50. He
n both hands down his lea

deep, relaxed sigh.
He

scrubbing motion, and went out
and along the corridor to the cont
room.

The setup was the same. Bond's travel
literature was on the bullet table where
he had left it. He went through into the

anso-
a had probabi
1 by th
Gre yi pos
ashtrays

conference room. It had only bee
died.

ош

staff

no stains on the carpet and
s of ihe carpet having been
hed. н had probably been a single
through the heart. With Sca
manga’s soltnosed bullets, the interna
damage would be devastating, but the
fragments of the bullet would stay in the

w
shot

body and there would be no bleeding,
Bond went round the table, ostentatious-

ly positioning the chairs moi
He identified the one wh
kopl must h

accurately.
re Ruby Rot
ve sut, across the table from
1, Беси a cracked
- He dutifully examined the windows
and looked behind the curtains, doing

it had

his job. Scaramanga came into the room
followed by Mr. Hendriks. He said
roughly, “OK, Mr. Hazard. Lock both
doors like yesterday. No one to come

As Bond passed Mr. Hendrik:
he said cheerfully, “Good morning, M
Hendriks. Enjoy the party last might?”

Mr. Hendriks gave his usual curt bow
He siid nothing. His eyes were granite

Bond went out and locked the doors
ad took up his position with the bro-
chures and the champagne glass. Imme-
Hendriks began talking, quickly
ad urgently, fumbling for the English
words “Mr. S. 1 have bad troubles to
report. My ale in Havana spoke
with me this morning. They have heard
direct Irom Moscow. This man"—he
must have made a gesture toward the
door—"th n is the British secret
agent, the man Bond. There is no doubt,
Lam given the exact descriptions. When
he goes swimming this morning, 1 am
examining his body through glasses
The wounds on his body are clearly to
be seen.The scar down the right side of
the face leaves no doubt. And his shoo:
ing last night! The ploddy fool is proud
of his shooting. I would like to sec а

ember of my organization behave in
лесу stupid fashions! 1 would have him
shot immediately.” There was a pause.
The man’s tone altered, became slightly
menacing. His target was now Scaraman
ga. “But, M how can this have
come about? How can you possibly have
let it arrive? My dumfounded
at the mistake ight have
done much damage but for the watch.
fulness of my superiors. Pliss explain,
Mr. $. 1 ng the very full
report. How is it that you aye meet
this man? How is it that you are then
carrying him efen into the center of The

ust be ma

Group? The details, pliss, mister. The
full accounting. My superiors will be

expressing

sharp criticism of the lack of
vigilance against the enemy.

Bond heard the rasp of a math
against a box. He could imagine Scara-
g back and going through
routine. The voice, when it
came, was decisive, uncowed. “Mr. Hi
driks, 1 appreciate your outlit's concern
bout this and I congratulate them on

their sources of information. But you
tell your Central this: D met this man
completely by accident, at least I

thought so at the time, and theres no
about how it happened. It
sy 10 set up this confe
ence and 1 needed help. I had to get two
mamagers in a hurry from New York to
handle the hotel people. They're doing
good job, right? The floor май and all
the rest I had to get from Kingston. But
what I really needed was a kind of per-
sonal assistant who could be around to
make sure that everything went smooth-

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139

PLAYBOY

ly. Personally, I just couldn't be bothered
with all the details. When (his guy
dropped out of the blue, he looked all
right to me. So I picked him up. But I'm
not stupid. 1 knew that when this show
was over I'd have to get rid of him, just
n cse hed learned anything he
shouldn't have. Now you say he’s a mem-
ber of the Secret Service
the begini

Í told you at
ng of this conference that I
cat these people for breakfast when 1
have a mind to. What you've told me

changes just one thing: He'll die today
instead of tomorrow, And here's how it's
going to happen.” Scaramanga lowered
his voice. Now Bond could hear only
disjointed words. The sweat ran down
from his ear as he pressed it to the base
of the champ: s. "Our excursion

2o rats in the . . . unfortunate
accident before 1 do it..
surprise . . . details to myself . . . you

will Gnd it ver
must have sat back again. Now his voice
was normal. “So 1 think you have noth
ing to worry about. The man will be
gone by this evening. Are you satisfied? I
would do it now just by opening the
door, but two blown fuses in two days
might cause gossip around here. And
this way there will be fun for everybody
on the picnic.”

Mr. Hendriks’ voice was flat and un
terested. He had carried out his orders
and action was about to follow, definitive
action. There could be no comp!

delay in carrying out orders. He
“Yes. What you are proposi
satisfactory. Í shall observe the proceed

s with much amusement. And now to
other bu an Orange. My superi
ors are wishing to know that everything

But the material you sup-
plied is highly volatile. It will have to be
replaced in the demolition ch
every five years. By the way,” there was a
dry chuckl ^d to see th
tructions on the drums were in sever-
al African languages as well as English.
АП ready for the great black uprising, I
suppose? You might give me warning of
The Day. I hold some pretty vulnerable
stocks on Wall Street.”

“Then you will lose a lot of money.
1 My. Hendriks flatly. “I shall not be
told the date. I do not mind. 1 hold no
stocks. You would be wise to keep your
попсу in gold or diamonds or rare post-
ше stamps. And now the next matter. It
is of interest to my superiors to be able
10 place their hands on a very gr
quantity of narcotics. You hi
[or the supply of gan
we call it. You are now receiving your
supplies in poi Tam a

nbers

or marij

149 hundredweight. It is suggested that you

My friends can
from there.

There was a b
woukl bc smoki

lence. Sc:
thin cheroot. He
tid, “I think that could be arranged.
But the ganja laws have just been con-
siderably stillened. There are big prison
sentences. Consequently, the price h
gone through the roof. The going price
today is £16 an ounce. A hundred
weight of the stuff could cost thousands
of pounds. And irs darned bulky in
those quantities. My fishing boat could
probably only ship one hundredweight
ta time. Any re's it for? You'll
be lucky to get those quantities ashore,
^ pound or two is dillicult enough.”
“Lam not being told the destin:
1 assume it is for America

signments initially off the coast of Geor
gia. I

am being told that this full
of small islands and swamps and is al-
dy much favored by smugglers. The

money is of no importance. 1 have
structions to make an initial outlay of
million dollars, but at keen market
Prices. You will be receiving your usual
percent commission. Is it that you

re interested?”
“Im always interested. in a hundred
thousand dollars. TH have to get in
touch with my growers. They have their

plantations in the Maroon country.
That's in the center of the island. This
is going 10 take time. E can give you

bout two weeks—a hun
e stuff F.O.B. the Pedro

quotation in

s are very flat
is not stuff to be left lying about

Sure. Now, then. Any other
s? OK. Well, Eve got something
to bring up. This casino lark.
Now, this is the picture. The govern-
ment is tempted. They think ill stimu-
wry. But the heavies
—the boys who were kicked out of H
j, the Vegas machine, the M
Chicago—the whole works, didn't
tke the measure of these people before
they put the heat on. And they over-
played the Чака Гапа approach—put too
nuch money in the wrong pockets. €
they should have employed а public-re
lations outfit. Jamaica looks small on the
map, and I guess the Syndicates thought
they could huniy through a neat little
operation like the Nassau job. But the
Opposition party got wise, and the
Church, and the old women, and there
was talk of the Mafia taking over in Ja-
maici, the old "Cosa Nostra" and all that
crap, and the spiel flopped. Remember
we were ollered п” coupl:
back? That was when they saw it w
bust and wanted to unl
tion expenses, coupla million bucks or
so, onto The Group. You recall 1 ad-

vised aj
So we s

nst and gave my reasons. OK
no, But things have changed
Different party in power, bit of a tourist
slump last year, and a certain minister
has been in touch with me. Says the cli
mate's changed. Independence has come
along and they've got out from behind
the skirts of Aunty England. Want to
show that Jamaica's with it. Got oomph
and all that. So this friend of mine says
he can get gambling off the pad here.
He told me how and it makes sense. Be-
fore, I said stay out. Now I say come in
But it's going to cost money of
usl] have to chip in with a he
thousand bucks to give local encom
1. Miami'll be the operators and get
franchise. The deal is that they'll
put us in for five percent—but off the
top. Get me? On these figures, and
they're not loaded, our juice should have
arned in eighteen months. Aft
that it's gravy. Get the photo? But your,
cr. friends don’t seem too keen on these,
cr. capitalist enterprises. How do you
figure it? Will they ante up? 1 dont
want [or us to go outside for the green.
And. as from yesterday, we're missing а
sh Come to think of it, we've
got to think of that, too. Who we goin’
to rope in as number seven? We're short
me for now.

James Bond wiped his car and the
bottom of the glass with his handker
chiel. It was almost unbearable. He had
heard his own death sentence pro-
nounced, the involvement of the K.G.B.
with Scaramanga and the Caribbean
spelled out, and such minor dividends as
sabotage of the b dustry, m
drug smuggling into the States and gam-
bling politics thrown in. Tt was a majes-
tic haul in arca Intelligence, He had the
ball! Could he live to touch down with it?

James Bond moved away from the
door as he heard Sc a's. passkey
» the lock. He looked up and yawned.
Scaramanga and Mr. Hendriks looked
һ at him. Their expressions were
vaguely interested and reflective. It was
as if he were a bit of steak and they were
wondering whether to have it done тате

been

archoldei

uxite sivc

or medium rare.
At 12 o'clock they all assembled in the
lobby. Sc had added a broad.

brimmed white Stetson ло his immacu-
te tropical attire. He looked like the
smartest plantation owner in the South.
Mr. Hendriks wore his usual stufly suit,
now topped with a gray Homburg. Bond
thought that he should have gray suede
gloves and an umbrella, The four hoods
were wearing calypso shirts outside their

Bond was pleased. If they were
nds, the
shirts would hinder the draw. Cars we
drawn up outside with Scaramanga's
Thunder the dead

was standing washing his hands in invisi-

ble soap and looking helpful. “АП se
Everything loaded on the wain? Gree
then

Whe
n Travis?

Harbor been told? OK.
that sidekick of yours, tha
Haven't. sei
k Nicholson looked
п abscess in his tooth, sir. Real bad.
Had to send him in to Sav" La. Mar to
have it out. He'll be OK by this after-
noon,”

e He

got

“Too bad. Dock him half a day's pay.
No room for sleepers on this outfit.
We're shorthanded as it is, Should have

had his snappers attended to before he
took the job on. 'K?
y good, Mr. 5

him.
Scaramanga turned to the waiting
group. “OK, Tellers. Now this is the

spiel. We drive a mile down the road to
the station. We get aboard this litle
train. Quite an outht that. Feller by the
name of Lucius Beebe had it copied for
the Thunderbird company from the en-
gine and rolling stock on the litle old
South Park and Pacific line.

сеп
r. Plenty birds, bush rais,
ers. Mebbe we get a liule
hunting. Have some fun with the hard-
ware. АП you guys got your guns with
you? Fine, fine. Champagne lunch at
Green Island and the girls and the mu-
ЇЇ be there to keep us happy. After
lunch we get aboard the Thunder Girl,

by Chris Craft, and take a cruise along to
Lucea, that’s a liule township down the
coast, and sce if we can catch our dinner.

"Those that don't.

ant to fish can play
stud. Right? Then back here for drinks.
OK? Everyone satisfied? Any sugges-
tions? Then lers go."
Bond was told (o get in the back of
дїп that
Crazy not to take him
now! But it was open country with no
‘over amd there were four guns riding
nd, The odds simply weren't good
enough. What was the plan for his
removal? During ihe "hunting" presum-
ably. James Bond smiled grimly to him-
self. He was feeling happy. He wouldn't
have been able to explain the emotic
n feeling of being keyed up,
wound taut. It was the moment, after 20
when you got a hand you could

, but bet on.
man for over six
weeks. Today, this oom perhaps,
мау tO come the payoll he had been
ordered to bring about. It was win or
orcknowledge was play-
ing for him. He was more heavily fore-
ın die enemy knew. But the
had die big battalions on their
¢ more of them. And,

There we
taking only Scar
talent. Weapons? Ар;
others, Scaramanga had the advantage.
The long-barreled Colt 45 would be a

fraction slower on the draw, but its length
of barrel would give it more accuracy
than the Walther automatic. Rate of
fire? The Walther should have the edge
—and the first empty chamber of Scara-
gun, if it hadn't been discov-
ered, would be an additional bonus. The
steady hand? The cool brain? The sharp-
of the lust to kill? How did they
h up? Probably nothing to choose
оп the first two. Bond might be a shade
triggerhappy—of necessity. Tha he
must watch. He must damp down the
fire in his belly. Get ice cold. In the lust

g for his life. The
nusing himself—
display-

other man was just a
providing sport for h
ç his potency, showing off. That was
good! That might be decisive! Bond
said to himself that he must increase the
other man's unawareness, his casual cer-
titude, his lack of caution. He must be
the P. G. Wodehouse Englishman, the

limey of the cartoons. He must play easy
The adrenalin coursed into
mes Bond' blood stream. His pulse

rate began to run a fraction high. He
felt it on his wrist. He breathed deeply

and slowly to bring it down. He found
that he was sitting forward, tensed. He
sat back and tried to relax, АП of his
body relaxed except his right hand. This
was in the control of someone else, Rest-
ing on his right thigh, it still twitched
slightly from time to time like the paw
of a sleeping dog chasing rabbits. He

it into his coat pocket and watched a
buzzard a thousand [eet up, cir-
cling. He put himself into the mind of
the John Crow, watching out for a
squashed toad or a dead bush rat. The
circling buzzard had found its offal. It
came lower and lower. Bond wished it
bon appétit. The predator in
wished the scaveng
smiled at the comp:
They were both following a scent. The
m that the John Crow

difference w

*... E realize this is hardly the
time to mention it, but . .
stripes and checks together...

. one never wears

141

PLAYBOY

was a protected bird. No one would
shoot back at it when it made its final

Amused by his thoughts, Bond's
ht hand came out of his pocket and
lit a cigarette for him, quietly and оре
ently. It had stopped going off chasing
abbits on its own.

‘The station was a brilliant mock-up
from the Colorado narrow-gauge era—a
low building faded clapboard orna-
mented with gingerbread along its caves.
Its name "Thunderbird Halt" was in
oldstyle ornamental type, heavily ser-
ifed. Advertisements proclaimed “Chew
f Fine Cut Warranted Finest
a Leaf,” "Trains Stop for all
Yo Checks Accepted." The
engine, gleaming in black and yellow
varnish and polished bi was a gem. It
stood, panting quietly in the sunshine, a
wisp of black smoke curling up from the
tall stack behind the big brass headlight.
“The engine's name, “THE BELLE,”
а proud brass plate on the gleam
barrel and its number, *

div

was on

was one carri n open affair with
padded loam rubber seats and a daffodil
surrey roof of fringed canvas to keep off
the sun, and then the brake van. i
yellow, with a resplendent
mcd chair behind the conve!
al wheel of the brake. lt was a wonderful
toy even down to the old-fashioned whis-
tle, which now gave a sharp admonitory
blast.

Scaramanga was in cbullient form.
"Hear the train blow, folks AI
aboard!" There was an anticlimax. To
Bond's dismay, he took out his golden
pistol, pointed it at the sky and. pressed
the trigger. He hesitated only momentar-
ily and fired again. The deep boom
echoed back from the wall of the station
and (he stationmaster, resplendent in
old-fashioned uniform, looked nervous.
He pocketed the big silver turnip watch
he had been holding
sequiously, the gr

ag now drooping
checked his gun.
He looked thoughtfully at Bond and
id, “All right, my friend. Now then,
you get up front with the driver.”

Bond smiled happily. “Thanks. I've
always wanted to do that since I was a
child. What funt”

“You've said it,
turned to the others. y
Hendriks. In the first scat behind the
coal tender, please. Then Sam and Leroy.
d Louie. TI be up back in

Then Ha

"KP"

Everybody took his seat. The station-
master had recovered his nerve and went
through his ploy with the watch and the
flag. The engine gave a wiumphant hoot
and, with a series of diminishing pulls,
got under way, and they bowled olf along

142 the threefootgauge line that disap-

red, as straight as an arrow, into a
imer of silver.

Bond read the speed gauge. It said 20.
For the first time he paid attention to
the driver. He was a villainous-looking
Rastafari in dirty khaki overalls, with a
sweat rag round his forehead. A ciga-
rene drooped from between the thin
mustache and the straggling beard. He
smelled quite horrible. Bond said, "My
name's Mark Hazard. What's yours?”

“Rass, man! Ah doan talk wid buckra.”

"The expression “rass” is Jamaican for
“shove it.” "Виска" is a tough colloqui-
alism for "white man.

Bond said equ 1 thought part of
your religion was to love thy neighbor

The Rasta gave die whistle lanyard a
long pull. When the shriek had died
away, he simply said “Sheeit,” kicked the
furnace door open and began shoveling
coal.

Bond looked surreptitiously round the
n. Yes There it was! The long

ican cutlass, this one filed to an
ich blade with a deadly point. It was
on a rack by the man’s hand. Was this
the way he was supposed to go? Bond
doubted it. Scaramanga would do the
deed in a suitably dramatic fashion and
one that would give him an al
ond executioner would be Hendriks.
Bond looked back over the low coal
tender, Hendriks’ eyes, bland i
different, met his. Bond shouted above
the iron clang of the engine, "Great fun,
whaz” Hendriks’ eyes looked away and
back again. Bond stooped so rhat he
could sce under the top of the surrey.
All the other four men were sitting mo-
tionless, their eyes also fixed on Bond.
Bond waved a cheerful hand. There was
no response. So they had been told!
Bond was a spy in their midst and this
was his last ride. In mob-ce, he was
“going to be hit" It was an uncomfort-
able feeling having those ten enemy eyes
watching him like ten gun barrels. Bond
straightened himself. Now the top half
of his body, like the iron “man” in a pis-
tol range, was above the roof of the sur-
rey and he was looking straight down
the flat yellow surface to where Scara-
manga sat on his solitary throne, with all
his body in full view. He also was looking
down the litle train at Bond—the last
mourner in the fune
the cadaver th James Bond. Bond
waved a cheery hand and turned back. He
opened his coat and got a moments re-
assurance from the cool butt of his gun.
He felt in his trouser pocket. Three
spare magazines. Ah well! He'd take as
many of them as he could with him. He
flipped down the codriver's seat and sat
оп it. No point in ollering a target un-
til hc had to. The Rasta flicked his ci
reue over the side and lit another. The
engine driving herself. He leaned

1 cortege behind

against the cabin wall and looked at
nothing.

Bond had done his homework on the
1:50,000 Overseas Survey map that Mary
had provided, and he knew cxacily the
route the litle canc line took. First
there would be five miles of the cane
fields, between whose high green walls
they were now traveling. Then came
Middle River, followed by the vast ex-
panse of swamplands, now being slowly
reclaimed, but still shown on the map as
“The Great Morass.” Then would come
Orange River lead we Ва
and then more sugar and mixed forest
and agricultural small holdings until
they came to the litle hamlet of Green
Island at the head of the excellent an-
chorage of Green Island Harbor

A hundred yards ahead, a turkey buz-
zard rose from beside the line and, after
a few heavy flaps, caught the inshore
breeze and soared up and aw
came the boom of Scaramanga's gun. À
mher drifted down from the great
of the big bird. The tur-
key buzzard swerved and soared h
A second shot rang ош. The bird g:
jerk and began to tumble untidily down
ош of the sky. 1t jerked again as a third
bullet hit it before it crashed. into the
cane. There was applause from under
the yellow surrey. Bond leaned out and
led to Scaramanga, “That'll cost you
five pounds unless you've squared the
Rasta. That's the fine for killing a John
Crow.”

A shot whistled past Bond's head.
Scaramanga laughed. "Sorry. Thought I

saw a rat" And then, “Come on, Mr.
Hazard. Lets scc som play from
you. Theres some cattle grazing by the

line up there. See if you can hit 2 cow at
ten paces.

The hoods guffawed. Bond put his
head out again. Scar; gun was
on his lap. Out of the corner of his eye
he saw that Mr. Hendriks, perhaps ten
feet behind him, had his right hand in
his coat p Bond called, "I never
shoot game that I don't cat. If you'll cat.
the whole cow, ГИ shoot it for you.”

"The gun flashed and boomed as Bond
jerked his head under cover of the coal
tender. Scaramanga laughed harshly.
“Watch your lip. limey, or you'll end up
without it" The hoods haw-hawed.

Beside Bond, the Rasta. gave
He pulled hard on the whistle lanyard.
Bond looked down the line, Far ahead,
across the rails, something pink showed.
Sull whistling, the driver pulled «
ver. Steam belehed from the t

curse,

nd the bullets clanged
oof over his head. Scar
manga shouted angrily, "Keep steam up.
damn you to hell!"

The Rasta quickly pushed up the le
ver and the speed of the train gathered
back to 90 mph. He shrugged. He

—

143

PLAYBOY

“TH sure be glad when you get
off this damned pop-art kick!”

glanced at Bond. He licked his lips wet-
ly. “Dere’s white trash across de lin
Guess mebbe it’s some fr

Bond strained his eyes. Yes! It was a
ed pink body with golden blonde
т! A girl's body!

Scaramanga's voice boomed against
the wind. “Folks. Јек a little surprise for

l. Something from the good old
We: movies. There's a girl on the
line ahead. Tied across it. Take a look.
And you know what? It’s the girlfriend
of a certain man we've been hearing of,
called James Bond. Would you believe

? Am her name's Goodnight, Mary
Goodnight. It sure is good night for her.
If only that fellow Bond was aboard
now, I guess we'd be hearing him holler
for mercy.”

James Bond leaped for the accelerator
lever and tore it downward. The engine
Jost a head of steam, but there was only
a hundred yards to go and now the only
thing that could save the girl was the
brakes under Sctramanga’s control in

you

144 the brake van. The Rasta already had

ass in his hand. The flames from
the furnace glinted on the blade. He
stood back like a cornered animal, his
eyes red with ganj; gun
in Bond's hand. Nothing could save the
girl now! Bond, knowing that Scaraman-
ga would expect him from the right side
of the tender, leaped to the left. Hen-
driks had his gun out. Before it could
swivel, Bond put a bullet between the
man's cold eyes. The head jerked back.
For an instant, steelcapped back teeth
showed in the gaping mouth. Then the
gray Homburg fell off and the dead
head slumped. The golden gun boomed
twice. А bullet whanged round the cabin,
The Rasta screamed and fell to the
ground, clutching at his throat. His
hand was still clenched round the whis-
ile lanyard and the lule train kept up
its mournful howl of warning. Fifty
yards to go! The golden hair hung for-
lornly forward, obscuring the face. The
ropes on the wrists and ankles showed
dearly. The breasts offered themselves to
the screaming engine, Bond ground his

teeth and shut his mind to the dreadful
impact that would come any minute
now. He leaped to the left again and got
off three shots. He thought two of them
had hit, but then something skimmed a
great blow into the muscle of his left
shoulder and he spun across the cab and
crashed to the iron floor, his face over
the edge of the foorplate. And it was
from there, only inches away, that he
saw the front wheels scrunch through
the body on the line, saw the blonde
head severed from the body, saw the chi-
na-blue eyes give him a last blank stare,
saw the fragments of the showroom
dummy disintegrate with a sharp crack
ling of plastic and the pink splinters
shower down the cmbankment.
James Bond choked back the sickness
tht rose from his stomach into the back
of his throat. He staggered to his feet,
keeping low. He reached up for the ac-
celerator lever and pushed it upward. A
pitched battle with the train at a stand-
still would put the odds even more
against him. He hardly felt the pain in
his shoulder. He edged round the right-
hand side of the tender. Four guns
boomed. He flung his head back under
cover. Now the hoods were shooting, but
wildly, because of the interference of the
surrey top. But Bond had had time to
sce one glorious sight. In the brake van,
Scaraminga had slid from his throne
and was down on his knees, his head
moving to and fro like a wounded ani-
mal. Where in hell had Bond hit him?
And now what? How was he going to
deal with the four hoods, just as badly
obscured from him as he was from them?
Then a voice f k of the
wain, it could only be from the brake
van, Felix Leiters voice, called out
above the shriek ol the engine's whistle,
“OK, you four guys. Toss your guns over
the side. Now! Q There came the
crack of a shot. . Ther
Mr. Gengerella gone to meet h
‚ then. And now h id your
better. Right. OK, James.
The baule's over. Are you OK? If so,
show yourself. "There's still the final cur-
tain and we've got to move quick.
Bond rose carefully. He could hardly
believe it! Leiter must have been riding
on the buller behind the brake van. He
wouldn't have been able to show himself
i ar of Bond's gunfire. Yes!
! His fair hair tousled by
the wind, a long-barreled pistol using bis
upraised steel hook as a rest, standing
astride the now supine body of Sears.
manga beside the brake wheel. Bond's
shoulder had begun to huit like hell. He
shouted, with the anger of tremendous
relief, “Goddamn you, Leiter. Why in
hell didn't you show up before? I might
have got hurt.”
Leiter laughed. “Tha
Now listen, sh
The long

om the ba

ands bel

"II be the day!
mus. Get ready to jump.
you wait, the farther you've

got to walk home. I'm going to stay with
these guys for a while and hand them
over to the law in Green Harbor." He
shook his head to show this was a lie.
“Now get goin’. Its The Morass. The
landing'll be soft. Stinks a bit, but we'll
give you an cau-de-cologne spray when
you get home. Right?”

The train ran over a small culvert and
the song of the wheels changed to a deep
boom. Bond looked ahead. In the dis-
tance was the spidery ironwork of the
age River bridge. The still shrieking
n was losing steam. The gauge said
19 mph. Bond looked down at the dead
Rasta. In death, his face was as horrible
as it had been in life. The bad teeth,
sharpened from eating sugar cane from
childhood, were bared in a frozen snail.
Bond took a quick glance under the sur-
rey. Hendriks’ slumped body lolled with
the movement of the train. The sweat of
the day still shone on the doughy checks.
Even as a corpse he didn't ask for sympa
thy. In the seat behind him, Leiter's bul
let had torn through the back of
Gengerella’s head and removed most of
his face. Next to him, and behind him,
the three gangsters gazed up at James
Bond with whipped eyes. They hadn't
expected all this. This was to have been
a holiday. The calypso shirts said so. Mr
Scaramanga, the undefeated, the unde-
featable, had said so. Until minutes be
fore, his golden gun had backed up his
word. Now, suddenly, everything
different. As the Arabs say when a great
sheik has gone, has removed his protec-
tion, “Now there is no more shade
They were covered with guns from the
front and the rear. The train stretched
out its iron stride toward nowhere they
had ever heard of before. The whistle
moaned. The sun beat down. The dread-
nk of The Great Morass assailed
nostrils. This was s
bad news, really bad. The tour director
had left them to fend for themselves.
Two of them had heen killed. Even their
guns were gone. The tough faces, as

was

white moons, gazed in supplication up at
Bond. Louie Paradise's voice was cracked
and dry with terror. “A million. buc

mister, if you get us out of this. Swear
on my mother. А million.
The faces of Sam Binion and Hal

finkel lit up. Here was hope! “And a
million.”
And another! On my baby son's

head!
The voice of Felix Leiter bellowed an-
grily. There was a note of panic in it.
“Jump, damn you, James! Jump!”
mes Bond stood up in the cabin,
not listening to the voices supplicating
from under the yellow surrey. These
men had wanted to m being
murdered. They had been prepared 10
murder him themselves. How many dead
men had cach one of them got on his
tally sheet? Bond got down on the step
of the cabin, chose his moment and

watch h

threw himself clear of the clinker track
and into the soft embraces of a stinking
mangrove pool.

His explosion into the mud released
the stench of hell. Great bubbles of
marsh gas wobbled up to the surface and
burst glutinously. A bird screeched and
clattered off through the fo
Bond waded out onto the edge of the
embankment. Now his shoulder was real-
ly hurting. He knelt down and was as
sick as а cat.

When he raised his head, it was to see
Leiter hurl himself off the brake van,
now a good 200 yards away. He seemed
то land clumsily. He didn't get up. And
now, within yards of the long iron
bridge over the sluppish river, another
figure leaped from the tra nto a
clump of mangrove. It was а tall, choco
lateclad figure. There was no doubt
about It was Scaramanga! Bond
cursed [ecblv. Why in hell hadn't Leiter
put a finishing bullet through the man’s
head? Now there was unfinished busi
ness. The cards had only been reshuflled
The end game had still to be played!

The screaming progress of the driver
Jess train changed to a roar as the track
took to the trestles of the long bridge.
Bond watched it
when it would r
would the three gangsters do now? Take
to the hills? Ger the train under control
and go on to Green Harbor. and try to
take the Thunder Girl across to Cuba:
Immediately the answer came! Halfway
across the bridge, the engine suddenly
reared up like a bucking stallion. At the
same time there came a crash of thunder
and а vast sheet of flame and the bridge
buckled downward in the center like
bent leg. Chunks of torn iron sprayed
upward and sideways and there was a
ng crash as the ma nchions
ad slowly bowed down toward the
Water. Through the jagged gap, the
beautiful Belle, a smashed toy, folded
upon itself and, with a giant splintering
of iron and woodwork and a volcano of
spray and steam, thundered into the
river.

A deafening silence fell. Somewhere
behind Bond, a wakened tree frog tin
kled uncertainly. Four white egrets flew
down and over the wreck, their necks
outstretched inquisitively. In the di:
tance, black dots materialized high up in
the sky and circled ily closer. The
sixth sense of the turkey buzzards had
told them that the distant explosion was
disaster—something that might yield a
L The sun hammered down on the
rails and, a few yards away from
¢ Bond lay, a group of yellow but
terflies danced in the shimmer. Bond got
slowly 10 his feet and, parting the but
terflies, began walking slowly but pur-
posefully up the line toward the bridge.
First Felix Leiter, and then after the big
one that had got aw

Leiter la

n the stinking mud. His
left leg was at a hideous angle. Bond
went to him, his finger to his lips. Hc
elt beside him and said softly, "Noth-
ing much | can do for now, pal. PH
give you a bullet to bite on and get
you into some shade. There'll be people
ng before long. Got to get on after
that bastard. He's somewhere up there
с. What made you think he

Leiter groaned, more in
himself than from the pain
blood all over the place.” The voice was
halting whisper between clenched
teeth, “His shirt was soaked in it. Eyes
dosed. Thought if he wasn't cold he'd
go with the others on the bridge.” He
smiled faintly. "How did you dig the
River Kwai stunt? Go off all right?"
Bond raised à thumb. “Fourth of July
he crocs be sitting down to table
tight now. But diat damned dummy!
Gave me a nasty turn. Did you put her
there?”

Sure. Sorry, boy. Mr. S. told me to.
Made an excuse 10 spike ihe bridge this
morning. No idea your girlfriend was a
blonde or that you'd fall for the spiel.”
Bloody silly of me. I suppose
Thought he'd got hold of her last night.
Anyway, come on. Heres your bullet
Bite the lead, The storybooks sav it
helps. This is going 10 hurt, but I must
haul you under cover and out of the
sun.” Bond got his hands under Leiter’s
armpits and, as gently as he could,
dragged him to a dry parch under a big
mangrove bush above swamp level. The
of pain poured down Leiter's face.
Bond propped him up against the roots
Leiter gave a groan
back. Bond looked thoughtfully down at
him. A faint was probably the best thi
that could have happened. He took Lei
ters gun out of his waistband and put
it beside his left, and only. hand. Bond
still might get into much trouble. If he
did, Scaramanga would come alter Felix.

Bond crept off along the line of man
groves toward the bridge. For the time
being he would have to keep more or
less in the open. He prayed that, n
the river, th

nger with
‘There was

er
yield to drier
land so that he could work down toward
the sea and then cut back toward th
er and hope to pick up the man’s tracks,

lt was 1:30 and the sun was high.
James Bond was hungry and very thirsty
and his shoulder wound throbbed with
There were perhaps a hun
rds to go to lge. On
Bond's left, the mangroves were sparse
d the black mud was dry and cracked,
But there were still soft patches. Bond
put up the collar of his coat to hide the
white shirt, He covered another 20 yards
beside the rail and then stuck off left
into the mangroves. He found that if he
kept close to the roots of the u
the going wasn't too bad. At 1

wamp would

the br

groves

ast there

145

PLAYBOY

146 stomach, not clenched in his

were no dry twigs or leaves to crack and
rustle, He tried to keep as nearly as po:
sible parallel with the river, but thick
patches of bushes made hi
detours and he had to estim
rection by the dryness of the mud
the slight rise of the land tow

bank. His ears were pricked like an
nal’s for the smallest sound. His eyes
strained into the grecnery ahead. Now
the mud was pitted with the burrows of
nd crabs and there were occasional rem
nants of their shells, victims of big birds
poses. For the first time, mosqui-
nd sand flies began to attack him.

1065
He could not slap them off but only dab

at them softly with his handkerchief that
was soon soaked with the blood they had
him and wringing with the
white man's sweat that attracied them,
Bond estimated that he had pene-
uated 200 yards into the swamp when
he heard the single, controlled cough,
The cough sounded about 90 yards
ay, toward the river. Bond dropped to
e knee questing like the
¢ of am insect. He waited five
minutes. When the cough was not re-
peated, he crept lorward on hands and
knees, his gun gripped between his
teeth.
In a

sucked fron

his sense

antenn

small clearing of dried black
mud, he saw the man. He stopped in his
ks, trying to calm his breathing.
manga was lying stretched. out,
his back supported by a clump of sprawl-
ing mangrove roots. His hat and his high
stock had sone and the whole of the
righthand side of his suit was black with
blood upon which insects crawled and
feasted. But the eyes in the controlled
face were still very much alive. They
swept the clearing at regular intervals
questing. Scaramanga's hands темей on
the roots beside him. There was no sign
of a gun
Scaram
like a re

араз face suddenly pointed,
r's, and the roving scrutiny
held steady. Bond could not see what
had caught h but then а
patch of the dappled shadow at the edge
of the clearing moved and a large snake,
beautifully diamonded in dark and pale
brown, zigzageed purposefully across the
black mud toward the man.

Bond watched, fascinated. He guessed
it was a boa of the Epicrates family, at
tmacted by the smell of blood. It was per-
haps five feet long and quite harmless to
man. Bond wondered if Scaramanga
would know this. He was immediately
put out of his doubt. Scaram
expression had not changed, but his
right hand crept softly down h
lez. gently pulled up the cuff and ve
moved a thin, stiletostyle knife from
the side of his short Texan boot. Then
he waited, the knife held ready across his
st, but

attention,

trouser

pointed k-knife fashion. The
snake paused for a moment a few yards
from the man and raised its head high to
ve him a final inspection. The forked
ively, again
1 again, then, still with its head
held above the ground, it moved slowly
forward

Not a muscle moved in Scar
face. The eyes were dead steady, w
Tul slits. The snake came into the shid-
ow of his оцет leg and moved slowly
up toward the glistening shirt, Suddenly
the tongue of steel that lay across Scara-
manga’s stomach came to life and
leaped. It transfixed the head of the
snake exactly in the center of the brain
and pierced through it, pinning it 10 the
ground and holding it there while the
powerful body thrashed wildly, seeking a
grip on the mangrove roots, on Scara-

mangas arm. But immediately, when it
had a grip, its convulsions released its
coils, which failed oll in another

direction.
The death struggles diminished and
finally ceased altogether. The snake lay
motionless. Scaramanga was careful. He
ran his hand down the full le
snake, Only the tip of the t
brielly. Scaramanga extracted the knife
from the head of the snake, cut off its
head with a single hard stroke and threw
it, alter reflection, accurately toward a
crab hole, He waited, watching, to see if
crab would come out and take it. None
did. The thud of the arrival of the
snake's head would have kept any crab
underground for many minutes, how-
ever enticing the scent of what had
made the thud
James Bond, kneeling i
watched all this, every nuance of
the most careful attention, E
Scaramanga’s actions, every
expression on his face, had been
dex of the man’s awareness of his alive-
ness. The whole episode of the snake
mperature chart
or a lie detector. In. Bond's judgment,
Scaramanga, for all his bloodleuing
and in 1 injuries, was still very much
alive. He was still a most formidable and
dangerous m:

the bush,
with
ach one of
flecting

n in-

Was as reve

his task satisfactorily
тшеу shifted his position
foot by foor, made his

the

completed, m
amd. once ag
penetrating e
rounding bu:
As Scaramanga's gaze swept by hi
without a Hicker, Bond blessed the dari
ness of his suit —a black patch of shadow
among so many others. In the sh
blacks and whites [rom the midday sun,
Bond was well camouflaged.

Satisfied, Scaramanga picked up the
imp body of the snake,
d carefully slit it down its
derside as far as the anal vent. Then he
scoured it and carefully etched the skin
away from the red-veined flesh with the

mination of sur-

laid it across his
stomach

precise flicks and cuts of a surgeon. Every
scrap of unwanted reptile he threw to-
ward crab holes and, with
flicker of annoyance crossed the granite
face that no one would come and pick
up the crumbs from the rich man's table
When the meal was ready, he once again
scanned the bush and then, very care
fully, coughed and spat into his hand. He
examined the result and flung his hand
sideways. On the black ground, the spu-
tum made a bright pink scrawl. The
cough didn’t seem to hurt him or cause
him much effort. Bond guessed t
bullet had hit Scaramanga in the

chest and had missed а lung by a
tion, There was hemorrhage and *
manga was a hospital case, but the

blood-soaked shirt was not telling the
whole uth.

Satisfied with his inspection of his sur-
roundings, Scaramanga bit into the body
of the snake and was at once, like а dog
with its meal, absorbed by his hunger
and thirst for the blood and juices of
the snake.

Bond had the impression that, if he
forward from his hiding place,
Scaramanga, like a dog, would bare his
weth in а furious snarl. He got quietly
up from his knees, took out his gun and,
his eyes watching Scaramanga's hands,
strolled out into the center of the little
clearing.

Bond was mistaken. Scaramanga did
not snarl, He barely looked up from the
cut-oll length of snake in his two hands

now

nd, his mouth full of meat, said,
"You've been a long while coming. Carc
to share my me

No thanks. I prefer my illed
with hot butter sauce. Just keep on car
ing. I like 10 see both hands occupied.”

Scaramanga sneered. He gestured at
his bloodstained shirt. “Frightened of a
dying man? You limeys come pretty
soft."

“The dying

an handled that snake
quite efficiently. Got any more weapons
оп you?” As Scaramanga moved to undo
his coat, “Steady! No quick movements
Just show your belt, armpits, pat the
thighs and out. l'd do it myself,
only I don't want what the snake got
And while you're about it, just toss the
knife into the trees. Toss. No throwing,
if you dor iL My wigger fingers
been getting a bit edgy today. Seems to
want t0 go about its business on its own
Wouldn't like it to take over. Yet,
that is.”

Scaramanga, with a flick of his wris
tossed the knife into the air. The sliver
of steel spun like a wheel in the s
shine. Bond had t0 step aside. The knife
pierced the mud where Bond had been

standing and stood upright. Scaramanga
gave а harsh laugh. The laugh turned

into a cough. The

painfully. Too painfully? Sciramanga
spat red, but not all that red. There
could be only slight h . Per

haps a broken rib or two. Scaramanga
could be out of hospital in a couple of
weeks. Scaramanga put down his piece
of snake and did exactly as Bond had
told him, all the while watching Bond's
face with his usual cold, arrogant stare
He finished and picked up the piece of
snake and began gnawing it. He looked
up. “Satisfied?”

Sulficiently.” Bond squatted down on
his heels. He held his gun loosely.
g somewhere halfway between the two

im-

of them. "Now (hen, lets talk. 'Fraid
you haven't got too much (me, Scara-
m This is the end of the road.

You've killed too many of my friends, 1
have the license to kill you and 1 am
going to kill you. But IIL make it quick
Not like Margesson. Remember
You put a shot through both of his
knees and both of his elbows. Then you
made him crawl and kiss your boots. You
were foolish enough to boast about it to
your friends in Cuba. Ti got back to us.
As а matter of interest, how many men
have you killed in your 1
With you, iH make the round fifty
Scaramanga had gnawed the last seg-
ment of backbone clean. He tossed it to-
d Bond. “Eat that, scum, and get on
h your business. You won't get any
il that’s your spie!
don't forget. Гус been shot at by experts
Vm still alive. Мере not precisely
kicking, but I've never heard of a limey
who'd shoot a defenseless man who's
badly wounded. They aint got the guts.
We'll just sit here, chewing the fat, until

him?

secrets out of me

the rescue team comes. Then ГЇЇ be glad
o go for wial What'll they get me
lor, ch?

"Well, just for a start, there's that nice
Mr. Rotkopf with one of your famous
silver bulles in his bead în the river
back of the hotel.”

Thar ll match with the nice Mr. Hen-
driks with of your bullets som
where behin Mebbe we'll serve
a bit of time together. That'd be nice,
They say the jail at Spanish
Town has all the comforts. How about
limey? That's where you'll be found
h a shiv in your back in the sacksew
ing department. An’ by the same token,
how d'ou know about Rotkop(?"

“Your bug was bugged. Seems you're a
ccident-prone these days, Scaram
а. You hired the wrong security m
from the CIA.
The tape'll be on the way to Washi
ton by now. That’s got the murder of
Ross on it, too, See what 1 mean? You've
got it coming from every which way."

Tape isn't evidence in an American
court. But 1 see what you mean, shamus.
Mistakes seem to have got made. So
OK," Scaramanga an expansive
gesture of the right Take a mil-
lion bucks and call it quits?”

one

his face.

wouldn't it

bit

Both your managers were

made

nd.

“I was offered three million on the
train.”
ГИ double that.”
No. Sorry.” Bond got to his feet. The
left hand behind his back was clenched
with the horror of what he was about to
do. He forced himself to think of what
the broken body of Margeson must
have looked like, of the others that this
man had killed, of the ones he would
kill afresh if Bond weakened, "This man
wits probably the most efficient one-man
death dealer in the world. James Bond

had him. He had been instructed 10 take
him.

He must
nded. or in
ied casualness, tr

take him—lying down
у other position. Bond
«d to make himself
Any

кету cold equa essages
Saari Any instruc
Anyone you want looking after?
FI take care of it il its personal, TH
keep it to myself.”

Scaramanga laughed his harsh laugh,
but carefully. This time the laugh didn't
turn into the red cough. "Quite the liule
English gentleman! Just like 1 spelled it
out. S'pose you wouldn't like to hand me
your gun and leave me to myself for five
minutes like in the books? Well, you
right, boyo! Pd crawl after vou and
blast the back of your head olL" The
eyes still boi > Bond's with the ar
rogant superiority, the cold superman
quality that | le him the greatest
pro gunman in the world—no drinks, no
drugs—the impersonal triggerman who

killed for money and, by the way he
sometimes did it, lor the kicks.
Bond examined him carefully. How

could Sciramanga I
was going 10 die in minutes
somc trick
spring? Some hidden weapon
man just lay there, apparently relied,
propped up against the mangrove roots,
his chest heaving rhythmically, the gran-
ite of his face not crumbl

the man w

But

mutely in defeat. On his forehead, there
was not as much sweat as there was on
Bond's. Sear in dappled bls

dow. For )
had stood in the tlic of the «саги
in blazing sunshine. Suddenly he felt the

lity oozing out through his feet into

black mud. And his resolve w
going with ir. He said. and he heard his

out harshly, “AN right, Scar.
inga He ied his gun and
held it in the two-handed grip of the tar
get man. “I'm going to make it as qu
as I can."

Scaramanga held up a hand. For the
first time his face showed emotion. “OK,
feller.” The voice, amazingly, supplicat
ed. “Im a Catholic, see? Jes’ let me say
my last OK? Won't long.
then you can blaze Every man's
got to die sometime. You're a fine guy as
guys go. of the game. If my

had be inch, mebbe two

bullet
inches, to the right, itd be you that's

voice ring

this is it”

pray
away

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147

PLAYBOY

148 doctor, had said ui

dead in place of me. Right? Can I say

my prayer, miste

James Bond lowered his gun. He
would give the man a few minutes. He
knew he couldn't give him more. Pain
and heat and hunger and thirst. It
wouldn't be long before he lay down
himself, right there on the hard cracked
mud, just to rest. If someone wanted to
Kill him. they could. He said, and the
words came out slowly, tiredly, “Go
ahead, Scaramanga. One minute only.”

“Thanks, pal" Scaramanga’s hands
went up to his face and covered his eyes.
There came a drone of Latin which
went on and on. Bond stood there in the
sunshine, his gun lowered, watching
Scaramanga, but at the same time not
watching him, the edge of h
dulled by the pain and the heat and the
hypnotic litany that came from behind
the shuttered face and the horror of
what Bond was going to have to do—in
опе minute, perhaps two.

The fingers of Scaramanga's
hand crawled impercept
across his face, inch by inch, centimeter
Dy centimeter. They got to his car and
stopped. The drone of the Latin prayer
never altered its slow, lulling tempo.

And then the hand leaped behind the
head and the tiny golden Derringer
roared and James Bond spun round as if
he had taken a right to the jaw and
cashed to the ground.

t once Scaramanga was on his feet

focus

right
bly sideways

nd moving forward like a swift cat. He
ched up the discarded knife and
held it forward like a tongue of silver

fame.

But James Bond twisted like a dying
animal on the ground and the iron in
his hand cracked viciously again and
ain—ive times, and then fell out of his
hand onto the black earth as his gun
hand we
and stayed there, clutch
ble p.

The big man stood for a moment and
looked up at the deep blue sky. His
fingers opened in a spasm and let go the
knife. His pierced heart stuttered. and
limped and stopped. He crushed flat
back and lay, his arms flung wide, as if
someone had thrown him away.

After a while, the land crabs came out
of their holes
ser

со

1 10 the right side of his belly

g at the ten

the wrecking squad on the railway came
down the riverbank at the normal, dig-
nified gait of a n constable on

his beat. No Jamaican policeman ever
breaks into a run. He has been taught
that this lacks authority. Felix Leiter,

now put under with morphine by the

after a bad man
there might be shooting. Felix Leiter
wasn't more explicit than that, but
when he said he was from the FDI—a
legitimate cuphemism—in Washington,
the policeman vied to get some of the
wrecking squad 10 come with him and,
when he failed, sauntered cautiously off
on his own, his baton swinging with as-
sumed jauntiness.

The boom of the guns
sion of screeching marsh birds gave him
an approximate fix. He had been born
not far away, at Negril, and, as а boy, he
had often used his gins and his slingshot
in these marshes. They held no fears for
him. When he came to the approximate
point on the riverbank, he turned left
into the mangrove and, conscious that
his black-and-blue uniform was desper-
ately conspicuous, stalked cautiously
from clump to clump into The Morass
He was protected by nothing but his
night stick and the knowledge that to
kill a policeman was а capital offense
without the option. He only hoped that
the good man and the bad man knew
this, too.

With all the birds gone, there was
dead silence. The constable noticed that
the tracks of bush rats and other sm
animals were running past him on
course that converged with his target
area. Then he heard the rauling scuttle
of the crabs and, іп а moment, from be-

n the swamp and that

nd the explo

hind а thick mangrove clump. he saw
the glint of Sca shirt. He
watched and liste no

movement and no He strolled,
with dignity, into the middle of the
cles looked at the two bodies and
the guns and took out his nickel police
whistle and blew three long blasts. Then
he sat down in the shade of a bush, took
out his report pad, licked his pencil and
began writing in a laborious hand.

A week later, James Bond ic
consciousness. He was in a gre
room. He was under water. The slowly
revolving fan on the ceiling was the
screw of a ship that was about to run
him down. He swam for his life. But it
was no good. He tied down, an-
chored to the bottom of the sea. He
screamed at the top of his lungs. To the
nurse at the end of the bed it was the
whisper of a moan. At once she was be-
side him. She put à cool hand on his
forehead. While she took his pulse,
James Bond looked up at her with unto-
cused eyes. So this was what a mermaid
looked like! He muttered “You're pret-
1," and gratefully swam back down into
her arms.

Two weeks later, James Bond was sit
up in а chair, a towel round his
Allen Dulles on The Craft
of Intelligence and cursing his fate. The

«les on h

hospital had worked mi
the nurses were sweet, particularly the
One he called “the mermaid,” but he
waited to be off and away. He glanced
at his watch, Four o'clock. Visiting time.
Mary Goodnight would soon be there
and he would be able to let off his pent
up steam on her. Unjust perhaps, but he
had already rongue-lashed everyone in
range in the hospital and, if she got into
the field of fire, that was just too bad!
Mary Goodnight came through
door. Despite the Jam was
looking fresh as а rose. She was carry-
i ikea typewriter. Bond
recognized it as the Triple-X decipher-
machine, Now what?
inted surly answers to her in-
ter his health. He said, “What
in hell's that
1 ‘Eyes Only."
said excitedly.
Doesn't the old bastard know Ive
only got one arm that’s working? Come
on, Mary. You get cracking. If it sounds
really hot, PN take over.”
Mary Goodnight looked shocked.
Eves Only" was a topsacred prefix, But
Bond's jaw was jutting out dangerously.
Today was not a day for argument, She
sat on the edge of the bed, opened the
machine and took a cable form out of
her bag. She laid her shorthand book be-
side the machine, scratched the back of
her head with her pencil to help work
out the setting for the day—a comp
cated sum involving the date and the
hour of dispatch of the cable—adjusted
the setting on the central cylinder and
began cranking the handle. After each
completed word had appeared in the lit-
Ue oblong window at the base of the ma-
chine, she recorded it in her book
James Bond watched her expression.
She was pleased. After a Ге
read ош: “м
ONLY эте

һе

Personal from

minutes she

PERSONAL FOR 007 EYES

YOUR REFORT AND DITTO FROM
vor cuphemism for the CLA]
RECEIVED SIOP YOU HAYE DONE WELL AND
EXECUTED AYE DIFFICULT AND HAZARDOUS
OPERATION TO MY ENTIRE REPEAT ENTIRE
SATISFACTION STOP TRUST YOUR HEALTH
UNIMPAIRED [Bond gave an angry snort]
STOP WHEN WILL YOU ВЕ REPORTING FoR
FURTHER DUTY QUERY. IN VIEW OF THE
OUTSTANDING NATURE OF THE SERVICE
TERMED TO ABOVE AND THEIR ASSISTANCE
TO THE ALLIED CAUSE СОММА WHICH IS
PERHAPS MORE SIGNIFICANT THAN YOU
IMAGINE COMMA THE PRIME MINISTER
PROPOSES TO RECOMMEND TO HER MA JESTY
QUEEN ELIZABETH THE IMMEDIATE GRANT
OF A KNIGHTHOOD STOP THIS TO ТАКЕ THE
ORM OF THE ADDITION OF A KATIE AS
PREFIX TO YOUR MICHAEL €
sror [James Bond uttered a defensive,
embarrassed laugh. “Good old cipherines.
They wouldn't think of just putting
K C N C—much too easy! Go ahead, Mary.
‘This is good!"] rr 15 COMMON PRACTICE

RE-

JARLIE

PORGE

TO INQUIRE OF PROPOSED RECIPIENT
WHETHER HE ACCEPTS THIS HIGH HONOR
BEFORE HER MAJESTY PUTS HER SEAL UPON
IT STOP WRITTEN LETTER SHOULD FOLLOW
YOUR CABLED CONFIRMATION OF ACCEPT-
ANCE PARAGRAPH THIS AWARD NATURALLY
HAS MY SUPPORT AND ENTIRE APPROVAL
AND EYE SEND YOU MY PERSONAL CON-
GRATULATIONS EXDIT. MAILEDFIS

James hid himself be-
hind th ‘Why in hell
docs he
"Mailedlist* for M” sa perfectly
wood English word "Em." Its a measure
used by printers. Bur of course its not
dashing enough for the Chief. He's a ro-
antic at heart like all us silly ba
who ger mixed up with the Service.”

Me said to Mary Goodnight. avo
her eyes, "Mary, this is an order, T.
down what follows and send it toni,
Righ? Begins, quote MAILEDFIST EYES
ONLY STOP ACKNOWLEDGED AND GREATLY
APPRECIATED STOP AM INFORMED BY HOS-
PITAL AUTHORITIES THAT EXE SHALL ñE RE-
TURNED LONDONWARD DUTIARLE IN ONE
MONTH STOP REFERRING YOUR REFERENCE
10 AYE HIGI HONOR EYE BEG YOU PRESENT

Bond арай
throwaw

MY HUMBLE DUTY 10 HER MAJESTY AND
REQUEST THAT EYE MAY BE PERMITIED
COMMA IN ALL HUMILITY COMMA TO DE-
LINE THE SIGNAL FAVOR HER. MAJESTY
Is GRACIOUS ENOUGH TO PROPOSE TO CON-
TER UPON HER HUMBLE AND OBEDIENT

SERVANT BRACKET TO MAILEDFIST PLEASE
PUT THIS IN THE APPROPRIATE WORDS TO
THE PRIME MINISTER BRACKET EYE AM AYE
SCOTTISH PEASANT AND EYE WILL ALWAYS
FEEL AT HOME BEING A SCOTTISH PEASANT
AND EYE KNOW COMMA SIR COMMA THAT
YOU WILL UNDERSTAND MY PREFERENCE
AND THAT EVE CAN COUNT ON YOUR IN-
ULGENCE BRACKET LETTER CONFIRMING
OLLOWS IMMEDIATELY BRACKET ENDIT
OHOHSEVEN."

Mary Goodnight closed her book with
snap. Bond smiled. “I'd like all those
things. The romantic streak of the SIS—
nd of the Scot, for the matter of that. I
just refuse to call myself Sir James Bond.
Td laugh at myself every time I looked in
the mirror to shave, Ir's just not my 1
Mary. The thought makes me positively

shudder. 1 know M'H undersand. He
thinks much the same way about these
things as I do. Trouble was, he had to

pherit his K with the job
t change
t oll and
ion this

more or less
there it is and I sl
v mind, so you cin buzz il
ГЇЇ write M a letter of coni
evening. Any other business?
Well, there is one thing, James.”
Mary Goodnight looked down her pretty
nose. “Matron says you can leave at the
1 of the week, but that there's got to
be another three weeks’ convalescence.
Had you got any plans where to go? You
have to be in reach of the hospital.
No ideas, What do you suggest?

“Well, er, I've got this little villa up
by Mona dam, James." Her voice hu
ied. “I's got quite a nice spare room
looking out over Kingston harbor,
its cool up there. And if you don't mind
sharing a bathroom." She blushed. *
afraid there's no chaperone, but you
know, in Jamaica, people don't mind
that sort of thing."

“What sort of thing;
ing her.

"Don't be silly, James. You know, u
married couples sharing the same house
and so оп

“Oh, that sort of thing! Sounds pretty
dashing to me. By the way, is your bed.
room pink, with white
julousies, and do you sleep under a
mosquito пе?”

She looked surprised. “Yes. How did
you know?" When he didn't
hurried on. "And James,
from the Liguanea Club and you can go
there and play bridge, and goll when

" said Bond, tea

decorated in

“I call it lobbying,

you get better. There'll be plenty of pco-
ple for you to talk to. And then of
course I can cook and sew buttons on for
vou and so on.
Of all the doomdraught graft
woman can write on the wall, those are
the most insidious, the most deadly
James Bond, in the full possessi
his senses, with his eyes wide open, 1
feet flat on the linoleum foo
head blithely between the mink-lined
jaws of the wap. He said,
ht. You're an a
the same time, he knew, deep
down, that love from Mary Goodnight
ог from any other woman, was mot
enough for him. It would be like taking
For James Bond,
me view would always pall.

This concludes the four-part scrializa-
tion of lan Fleming's final James Bond

novel, “The Man with the Golden Gun."

too.

149

PLAYBOY

150

PUNCH BOWL

Blend until smooth. Pour over block of
ice in punch bowl. Add both kinds of
rum, pineapple ju ango nectar.
Stir well Let mi ipen | hour

and

limes into thin slices. Float banana and
lime slices on. punch.

PHI BETA BLUEBERRY

1 fifth vodk:
16 ozs. Metaxa
16 ozs. bottled blueberry syrup

12 ozs. lemon juice

2 quarts club soda

2 lemons

1 pint cultivated blueberries

Chill all ingredients, Pour vodka,
j, blueberry syrup and lemon juice
over large block of ice in punch bowl.
Let mixture ripen | hour before serv-
ing. Pour club soda into bowl and stir.
Gut lemons into thin slices. Float lemon
slices and blueberries on punch.

100 proof

(continued [rom page 70)

APPLE GINGER. PUNCH.

24 ozs. apple brandy, either calvados
pplejack
araschino liqueur

2 ол. kirsch

1 quart. pincapple-grapefruit juice

24 ozs. green ginger wine

1 quart plus 1 pint ginger beer

2 red apples

2 yellow apples

Chill all ingredients. Pour all liquids
except ginger beer over large block of
ice in punch bowl. Stir well. Let mixture
ripen 1 hour. Cut apples, with skin, into
wedgelike iscarding core. Just
before servin inger beer into
bowl. Fl

MOSELLE BOWL

1 very ripe pineapple, medium size
12 ozs. su

12 ozs. d Marnier

16 ozs. brandy

4 2402 bottles moselle wine

“Any society that must kill lions to prove its manhood
is not ready for self-government.”

1 quart large ripe strawberries

Cut ends off pineapple; remove shell
and all “eyes” and cut lengthwise into
4 pieces. Cut away hard core from
cach piece, then cut crosswise into thin
slices. Place pineapple, sugar, Grand
Marnier and brandy in salad bowl or
mixing bowl. Marinate, covered,
frigerator at least 24 hours—48 ho
possible. Wine must be well d
Pour wine into punch bowl with 1
block of ice. Add pineapple mixture
stir well. Let mixture ripen in bowl 15
hour before serving. Gut stems olf straw
berries. Cut lengthwise in half and float
on punch.

CAPE COD CRANBERRY PUNCI

2 quarts plus 6 ozs. cranbe

1 quart 100-proof vodka

6 ozs, cherry liqueur

1 tablespoon orangeflower water

24 ors. orange j

1 teaspoon ground ci

1⁄4 teaspoon ground

4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

2 limes

Chill all liquid ingredients, Mix cin-
namon, allspice and nutmeg with a
small amount of vodka until a smooth
paste, free of lumps. is formed. Pour the
paste and all other liquids over large
block of ice in punch bowl. Stir well. Let
mixture ripen 1 hour before serving.
Cut limes into thin slices and float on
punch.

juice

FLORENTIN]

хеп
2 21-02. boules coffee-cream marsala
wine
2 24-oz. bottles Itali:
1 fifth plus 8 ozs.
4 ozs. lemon juice
anges

Ш ingredients. Pour both kinds
of wine, brandy and lemon juice ov

large block of ice in punch bowl.
well. Let mixture
ages into dl

CHAMPACNE BLUES

4 fifths dry champagne

1 filth blue curagao

8 ozs, lemon juice

Peel of 2 lemons

Chill all ingredients. Cut lemon peel
into strips 114 to g and Y
wide. Pour cur nd lemon juice into
glass punch bow well. Add. cham
pagne and stir slightly. Float lemon peel,
yellow side up, in bowl. Do not use ice
in punch bowl It may be surrounded
by cracked ice, if desired, by placing
glass bowl in bowl of larger diameter.

The high-spirited anthology above
would do honor to the best efforts of a
Garrick or a Johnson, and might even
slake the thirst of Admiral Russell.
Come, gentlemen, fill the сир...

loi

SEUSAN (continued from page 67)

I was in love with her. I followed her
from
d

distance. I thought about her all
ү. and I dreamed about her at night.
inally. I got up enough nerve to ask
her to go with me to a school dance. She
mghed in my face and said I didn't
ppeal to her because I had a hooknose.
I looked in the mirror. | knew 1
wasn't a handsome devil. I knew I had a
tendency to plumpness. A Clock Gable
(that's what Grandma called him) 1 knew
I wasn't. What I saw in the mirror was
a fat, ugly gargoyle with a hooknose like
the beak of a vulture. Well, from thar
day until June 6, 1944, for ten years, 1
felt such a shame about my ugly nose
that 1 would not sit in profile to any
body. If I was with someone, I always
sat directly in front of him—or especial-
ly her. If 1 was traveling in a bus or
streetcar full of strangers, I would sit
with my hand over my nose and pretend
to be rubbing it thoughtfully. 1 had this
sense of shame that 1 had something aw-
ful on me, something I couldn't cover
up, and people could see it

erever 1

got out of the Army I took my
5200 mustering-out pay and 1 went to a
ın Dr. Oscar Becker in Chicago. On

6. 1914, it was D day. at the Mi-
1 Reese hospital, he performed a
submucous resection on my nose, wi
they call a plastic job. He supposedly
gave me a beautiful Greek nose. Also, 1
supposed to breathe better, although
this hasn't happened yet, and my nose
was 21 years oll in June

Dr. Becker was a famous man in those
days among self-conscious Jewish girls
1 boys. His [ee was $200, and it in
cluded hospital, surgery and pre- and
postoperative treatment. 1 suppose now
it is probably around $2000.

I was terrified of the operation
Becker gave me a local anesthet
was conscious while he was chipping
away with a little mallet and chisel on
my formerly ugly nose. To forget my
fears during the operation, | started
singing a current hit song and Dr. Beck
cr sang the alternate lines.

Tsang: "Won't you tell me when . .

Dr. Becker: “We will meet again?"

Together: “Sunday,
ways?”

Alter 1

Dr.

Monday or al.

me out with my new nose,
nobody noticed that I looked any
different, But Z felt better, and this
shame about my nose went away, and
was soon replaced by different shames, of
course.

mong my counterparts at the Uni
versity of Illinois, Northwestern Univer-
sity and the University of Chicago, Dr.
Becker's noses everywhere.
You could recognize a Becker nose. It
had a special and distinet design, like the

blossomed

post-War Buicks with the three holes, I
ten to add that Dr. Becker's noses
had only the standard two holes.

But the Buicks did have three holes,
ad Í must digress to tell you that 1 am
very proud to be one of the few people
in the world who know the authentic
name of these holes in the Buicks. When
that model came out in 1949, my friend
Howard Merrill and I were writing
comedy together, and we were curious
about the three holes in the new Buick.
The American public loved those
three holes. One season the Bu
ple eliminated. the three holes,
public was outraged, and not one single
Buick was sold that year, so the next
year they restored the holes, and every
thing was all better. Well, neither How
ard nor I could afford a Buick of our
own, but wc liked those holes, too. a
we went around asking Buick ow
why they loved th holes, and they
couldn't or wouldn't answer. We'd ask
them what the holes were called, and
they would shrug their shoulders and
say. “Who knows?”

Or. "Holes. Holes are holes.

Un. "опт bother me with foolish
questions.”

Some of them blushed when asked this
question, and we concluded that these
holes are some sort of sex symbol, and
that people who drive Buicks are getting
some kind of jollies that Pontiac and

ry Owners can never really know

To this day, Buicks still have thc three
holes, and the bigger, more expensive
models have jour holes. The Buick pco-
ple have driven their designers crazy
redesigning these holes lor 16 years. and
they have presented the American public
with round holes, square holes, teardrop-
shaped holes, oblong holes, rectangular
holes, rhomboid holes, parallelogram
holes—every kind of hole that engineer-
ing science has yet created, but, American
know-how and ingenuity being what it is,
I'm sure we can look forward to new and
more thrilling holes from the Buick peo-
ple in the years to come. Tt is all a part
of what Presidem Johnson has called
The Great Society.

The other c
tied to compete with Buick
ways. They have put protuberances on
their cars—litle things that stick ош
they have folded ond sculpted the sheet
metal; but the simple faith of the Buick
people in their three holes comes shin-
ing through. year after year, and we
Americans know a good thing when we
see it

I live in Hollywood, wh
people driving RollsRoyces and Mark
X Jaguars amd Dual-Ghias; but when
they get out of their $25,000 cars in

manufacturers have

n many

¢ you see

front of the Beverly Hills Hotel, their
faces lack the serenity. the basic anima
of the Buick owners, who
drive up, get out of the car, pat it softly
on the trunk, sigh and light a cigarette
as they leave their beloved three-holed
machine and enter the pink hotel.

And so, many years ago, when How-
ard Merrill and I first saw the true
meaning and importance of these three
holes in the Buick, we wanted to know
what the name of these holes was. And
we asked Buick owners and Buick deal-
ers. too, but they didn't know; so finally
we wrote to General Motors, and after
many weeks there came a reply. The
holes are called:

Cruiserline Ventiports.

name. 1

Honest to God, that is th
wouldn't make up such a th

Between Gerakdine's disparaging re-
mark and the Dr. Becker nose, ten years
elapsed. Ten years in which 1 was
able to make overtures—let alone first
acts—to lovely rls for whom J

nine comp: ak God.
There w
It was during one of my periodical
attending
g with
the street
hmoozie was a

ionship, th
s Shmoozie.

Тиеу High School
ndma and Grandpa
from Humboldt. Park.
1 on the block.

I believe that on every block in Amer-
ica there exists a Sh
поа

vozie. OL course,
ys blocks aren't what they used
to be, because they now have these gar-
ng developments with subdi-
nd play areas, and the streets are
curved and don't begin and end the way
a real street should. and people don't
live on blocks anymore. and
int write a song like
Love Is Just Around the Corner, because
there is no corner

Bur iu those days there was a corner
on every block, and there was at least one
Shmoozie on every block. She was a girl
who was anybody's girl. Shmoozie was all
we ever called her, and nobody ever
knew her by any other name, first or
ast. Shmoozie was
came time for sex education you went to
Shmoozie. Usually another boy fixed you
up with her, and you w
Humboldt Park afer twilight
summer evenings, toward ten o'clock,
and you crept into the bushes there, and
Shmooric let you lool with her р

in her case, her publics.

There was a whole summer

н Chicago

n | was hid п the bushes with
every night practically and it gor me
al hot and crazy

Nhmoozue, wherever

you today,
and whatever high position you may

hold in the councils of American wom-

are

151

PLAYBOY

152 com:

anhood, I shall be forever grateful to
you.

I do not know what has become of the
Shmoozics of America today, but from
what I hear, | think what has happened
is that every gil has opened up a liule
Shmoozie department of her own. But in
the days of my youth, before World W:
IL there was still a difference between
the socalled respectable and the
Shmoozies: The former wouldn't,
the latter would. Maybe the Shmoo
zies had neurotic problems that made
them shmooze quickly; 1 don't know. Be
¢ when any guy on the block had a
with Shmoozie, it was with the ex-
press purpose of going behind a bush in
Humboldt Park and doing stall with her.
You didn't have to take her to the mov-
ies. You didn't have to buy her a soda.
You didn't have to give her а build-up or
use a line or give her a snow job. She just
put ont. h was her way of making
friends—and of me she made a lifelong
friend.

Sad to say, 1 can’t for the life of me
recall what she looked like, oi the color
of her hair or her eyes, because 1 never
saw her except in the dark.

But J must tell you that even after
that long hot crazy summer with Shmoo-
zie, when I left Chicago to go back to
Los Angeles, I was still, technically, a
virgin.

When next we find me, yo-yo that I
, 1 am bouncing in Los Angeles again.

id my sex life
passionate dreams
and/or Betty

od. I was about 14 or 15.
wild,

consisted of

able
1 loved the Marx Brothers pictures, 1
was never able to get up any sex fanta
sies featuring Margaret Dumont) But

now, looking back on these torrid
dreams—now, when I sce Miss Faye or
Miss Grable or Miss Rogers on the Late

Late Show, they seem д
nocent as 1

virginal and in-
. Compared to
Romy Schi lyn Monroe
and Elizabeth Taylor, the sexpots of my
puberty could have banded together and
opened a nunnery.

Next came Conch
My stepfather had begun wheeling and
and for

while there he was in
is now
Mexican
, Conchita, got my libido all fired.
up, and she knew it. She was about 17
years old, and unreasonably well devel
oped, with long black hair and hips that
operated on a 21-jewel movement a
slithered the he
could singlebreastedly have
the enti Scout movement.
I followed her around like a hypno-
zed bird following û snake. I had the
nt hots. АП day long. And all

the chips and my pare had a

aid. This lu

jous

around Se-

night loi ed the Official Boy
Scout regulations.

Alter a few weeks, Conchita had me
doing the housework, pushing the carpet
sweeper, or washing the dishes, while she

stood in the corner with her motor run-

ing. eating my mother's candy and sing-
ing Perfidia or La Cucaracha in Spanish.

That was when I got the mumps, and.
the doctor came to the house and
warned me that 1 must not get. out of
bed until I was cured, because the
mumps can be very serious t0 a young
boy (in fact, one's testicles can atrophy).
Bur how could I stay in bed when all

through the day E could hear the sugges-
tive rustlings of Conchita's dress and the

sensuous strains of her off-key Perfidia,
and every few minutes she would insin-
uate her bosom into my room just to see
if 1 was all right? I crawled out of bed
Just to see her smile. Just to be in the
sume room with her. I followed her
around the house, oblivious to the pain
in my groin, thinking it was passion,
when actually it was the swan song of
опе of my testicles. I am pointing this
out not for sensitionalism, but because
1 am trying to give this article all of the
nd clif-hanger aspects that it
ıJ life. I only want you to know,
reader, that when Conchita ran
away to get married à month later, there
1 was, a mere youth of 15, with only one
ball left, and still a virgin.

dear

Now we come to Miss Giggl

I guess it was my jun n high
school, à bunch of my friends decided
that E had been a virgin long enough,
and they took me to San Berdoc

San Berdoo is the nickname ol a town
called San Bernardino, about 60 miles
from Los Angeles. If you are old enough
to have listened 10 the old Bob Hope ra-
dio show, you will rem
make a lor of jokes about San Berdoo,
ad y In understand
why the studio audience laughed thei
heads off. It was a Southern California
“inside” joke. Everybody in Los Angeles
knew that San Berdoo had a street, D
Street, on which every house was a
whorehouse. ranging from what they
called the bull pen, where you walked
into а liule courtyard and all around
you in tiny stucco houses there were girls
Hanging out of windows, asking if you
wanted “to have a little party?” where
the price was one dollar, on up to the
first-class houses, where the price wa
two dollars.

The whole idea sounded very
me. A horny group of five of
ed by my friend Morton,
ay night we drove out to
doo. Í was pretty nervous and shaky
Morton was a model of self-confidence
He parked the car and we trooped up
the stairs of a large frame house and

nber he used to

u probably d

Icy to

Morton rang the bell, A middleaged,
white-haired woman opened the door.

“Why, good evening, Morton,” she
said. "and how are you?

I don't think 1 will ever again be
quite as impressed as 1 w: that mo
їс Morton by
one of the

ment when the madam ca
his first name. And this w
fancy fvo-dollar places.

We went into the house, and there
was a parlor and five girls came out, one
for cach of us, and we all had the hots in
two seconds. The one with me was not
the one 1 really wanted. She was
plump bleached blonde with a weird
giggle. The one I liked was fooling with
one of my friends; she looked a lile
like Conchita, but I didn't have the
heart to reject the prostitute sitting on
my lap. I have never been able to say to

—man, woman, or
, prostitute or President “I don't
want you. I want the one over there.

So I went upstairs with Miss Giggle,
into a little bedroom which was her
working quarters.

“Take oll your clothes,

“What for?" I asked.

“What for? What do you mean, what
for?

1 had never bec front. of
any female except my mother in my lite.

"Just a minute here!” I said.

Miss Giggle unbuttoned or unsnapped
something in back of her, and all of a
sudden she was naked. She was the first

she said.

Il-naked girl I had ever seen.

"See," she said, “easy. Now PH help
you."

She did, and she was ihe soul of

efficiency.

"Then she went and got
filled it with warm water

"What are you doing?” 1 asked, stand
ing there naked. trying to cover myself
with my hands like September Morn.
irst 1 wash you,

Cleanliness, 1
godliness.

But it had nothing to do with dean-
lines. The fact is that Miss Giggle and
her associates had а lot of clientele like
‚ 15-16 vears old and very horny
nding there naked with a š
the first e in your life, and by the
she had finished soaping you, forget
it, Charlie, 4 was all over.

When 1 went down the stairs, I gave
the other guys the signal as if to say it
had been real great, Because, goddamnit,
I was not going to admit that Í had now
been to a whorchouse and still hadn't
gotten laid.

a pan and
ad soap.

she said.

thought, is next to

At this point, dear reader, you might
be thinking to yourself: “Good Lord,
this man is 39 years old, is he going to
tell us that he’s still a virgin?”

Read on and be assured that your sus-
pense is almost at an end. For in the

“But, Mr. Hefner,

T specifically asked for
a transfer to a Playboy Club
city with a low pollen count.”

Ten Lewis

>
°
а
>
=
ы
а

154

next paragraphs I get deflowered by a
girl for whom, to this day, 1 have mixed
emotions which run from gratitude to
rage, and back.

Ter name was Eleanor.

Thad а reputation even in high school
for being funny, and Eleanor kind of
liked me, and а bunch of us went on a
wienie bake to the beach at Santa Moni-
ca. It was night and we roasted hot dogs
and toasted marshmallows and drank
Jokes on the sand, and later when the
fire became glowing embers, we went in
swimming, and afterward. we huddled
together on the blankets we had brought
to keep warm. Not only did one thing
lead to another, but I made every effort
to speed up the whole process, and
Eleanor made very litle effort to slow
it down, and the next thing I knew we
were doing й. We were doing it pretty
good as far as [ was concerned, and I
remember thinking, This is even better

"Don't get any ideas—I'm jusi here for scolding.”

than it’s cracked up to be, and then 1
remember losing track of what I was
thinking, and then, just at the very
moment when she should have said al-
most anything else, Eleanor whispered
to me the most crushing words I had ever
heard:

“Say something . . . funny,” Eleanor
said.

Well, there. you have ıl. There you
have my years of puberty, and as 1 look
back over them, and as I realize that I
have two children, both
through these awful years, 1 wonder, Oh
God I wander, why it has to be like that.
Why does it have to be that every hu-
man being Гое ever met is hung up and
mixed np and tortured all his lije by the
mistakes and fumblings and shames and
guilts of those years? Why can't there be
a simple way, a beautiful way for a child
fo encounter this loveliest experience on
earth for the first time?

now going

AAPL ESSER,

(continued from page 71)

nons that had gathered
basements for a y
ing the dawn. By seven a
first dozen. pairs of eyebrows were black-
ened and singed, and already the
wounded were being buttered with Un-
guentine and sent back into the fray.
The sun igher and higher; the
asphalt began to simmer quiedy and
Stick to the tires and tennis shoes of the
passing throngs. Lilac bushes drooped
Tragvantly and the cicadas buzzed in the
cottonwoods. And through it all the
steady, rolling salvos of exploding ten-
пега, in counterpoint to the machine-
gun fusillade of Chinese firecrackers, paid
homage to our War of Independence.

As the day wore on, the barrage grew
steadily louder; but Kissel had not yet
made his appearance. He was undoubt-
edly stoking his private furnace in prep-

tion for his own pyrotech iè
de resistance—which, when it came, was
well worth waiting for. Little did we
realize that we were shortly to be the
observers of a scene that would be re-
counted around warm hearths through
the long winter months of years to come.

Up in Chicago, the White Sox and the
St. Louis Browns had worked their wa
painfully into the wp of the third of
the first game, a scoreless tie, when Kis-
sel appeared on the shimmering horizon,
weaving spectacularly and carrying a
large paper bag with the painstaking
care of which only a totally committed
drunk is capable. At first no one paid
much attention to the struggling figure
as it inched its way from lamppost to
fireplug. Little girls burned sparklers on
porches, and 1 was carefully depleating a
string of Chinese ladyfingers. These
uny firecrackers with pleated fuses, all
woven together, and designed for the
rich and profligate to fire olf simulu
neously by simply lighting the main fuse
No kid in his right mind ever did that,
of couse; instead, we carefully disen-
ed them and fired them olf one by one
der garbage cams, on porches and
behind dogs. My mother, at regular i
tervals, called from the kitchen window
the Fourth of July litany of all mothers:

“You're going to lose ап суе if you're
not careful!” This was, of course, purely
ritualistic, and was only a minor annoy-
ance. Bruner had already suffered a Nesh
wound of a routine nature: His right
hand was swathed in grease-soaked gauze,
her proof that he could hold a three
cher in his hand when it went off and.
still survive, He was now back on the
scene, working as

In short, it was a Fourth like any oth-
er, up to the moment Kissel lurched to a
alt in the middle of the street, reached
into his paper bag—and pulled out the
most sinister, the most awe-inspiring
Dago bomb ever seen in northern Indi.

Carbide
dust in
ош, pre

ana. It was a thing of truly prod
stature, being fully a foot and
high and a good three inches in diame-
ter, and it was the first all-black Dago
bomb anyone had ever seen. Startled
faces appeared at windows; sparklers
flickered out for blocks around; kids
started converging from woodsheds, tree
houses and vacant lots, gathering around
Kissel in a growing circle—at a respectful
distance. With the maddening delibera-
tion of the perpetually fogbound, Kissel
laboriously positioned the black beauty
dead in the center of the asphalt road-
way and stood back to survey the scene,
weaving slightly. The crowd drew back
and watched silently а"
ing over the multitude їп a (hin blue
haze. The ebony monster stood bolt
upright and aloof. Waves of heat from
the pavement caused the scene to take
on a strange, shimmering unreality.
Only the dull grunts of distant can-
nonading broke the stillness. The skies
head were gray and thrcateni
Kissel, at stage center, suuggled to
find a match—the way drunks inv
do, going through pocket alter pocket

ng-

alter pocket fumblingly, finding only
pencil stub:

ad brass keys. It seemed to
ver, until finally a tense on-
looker stepped forward with a book of
matches. Kissel took it gravely, paused
1 then belched—a deep,
satisfying, shuddering burp of
the sort that can come only from a vast
internal lake of green beer. The crowd
applauded amd shifted impatiently, all
eyes riveted on the dull black menace
that stood with such dignity in the cen-
ter of the road.

Finally he struck a match; instantly, it
went out. He struck another. It, loo,
flickered and died. And another, and an-
other. The audience grew restive, but no
one dared to leave. In fact, more viewers
of historic event w g by
the minute. Kissel, as is so often the case
with the serious dr
unaware of the dra
and with

nk, seemed totally
he was creating,
rowed concentration contin-
to struggle with the matchbook,
ing match after mach. Suddenly,
out of the crowd, a kid darted, an expe-
rienced detonator of high explosives:
shoving into Kissel’s palsied hand a stick
of briskly smoldering punk, he turned
and scurried back into the throng—and
into the pages of local folk history.
Thinking at first that he had been given
а cigar, Kissel gazed at it numbly for a
moment and then dimly perceived that
here was the means of lighting the fuse
of the colossal Dago bomb.

Shuffling forward, punk in hand, he
made several futile passes at the fuse.
With cach lunge the crowd retreated,
nd then, with the inevitability of Greek
drama, in the taut silence, the telltale
hiss sounded forth clear and unmistak-
able. The assemblage rolled back in a
mighty wave, then turned and waited,

“Hey, Kissel, for God sake, it’s 1
Kissel raised his head questioningly

and said:
“What's li
Time was growing short. Kissel did

budge. The fuse was disappear
Then, suddenly and without wart
the ominous hissing stopped. Fuses h:
been known to lie dormant like this
for hours, seemingly cxtinguished—and
then...

Oblivious, Kissel continued his labors
with the punk, A moment later the
fuse, in its unpredictable
way, began to hiss frantically. Seeing at
last that the monster was lit, Kissel be-
gan his getaway, Reding in a half circle
befuddled, trailing punk smoke, he
gered forward—and knocked the black
its side, still hissing
reely, and only seconds remain
The crowd, seeing disaster unrecling
before its eyes, hit the dirt en masse
Those on the fringes dove into the bush-
es; others simply moaned pitcously and
dug in. It was good training, as events
turned out, for later years. The Dago
bomb lay on its side, its ugly snc
aimed at the houses that stood 200 fect
or so away. Cooler members of the mob
shouted to those in the houses:

"Look out, it’s coming! Close your
window

The fuse sputtered on. Kissel himself,
now aware of the nature of the rapidly
approaching catastrophe, made a cour-
ageous but futile attempt to right the
bomb. Someone yelled: "Get down, Kis-
sel, you'll get killed!” He fell over
backward and lay flattened on the аз
phalt, waiting for the call of his Maker.

And then it happened. With a sting-
ing, shuddering report, the black mon-
ster propelled its deadly cartridge of
dynamite out along the earth in a skip.
Wg, screaming horizontal tra
struck terror into the very
row of the bones of those fortunate
enough to be on the scene. Parting
spectators like the Red Sea, it skimmed
the sidewalk, across the lawn and,
a whistling sizzle, zoomed under

monster

over on

ng!

with

Kissel's front porch. For a long, pre
nant moment

the univ stood still.
wed the earth; heads
owed into hedges. Then . . .
KAA-ROOOM!
The thunderous explosion rocked the
neighborhood. The slats of Kissel's porch

bellowed outward: its floor ds
plunged instantly to the ground. A great
yellow, swirling cloud of dust rose over

the lilac bushes. Another eternity passed
—perhaps three seconds—and then an-
other, and louder, detonation thundered
over the landscape:
KA-KAABAA-ROOOM!—this time
caving in the rose trellis of the house
next door. The crowd heaved and dug

deeper аз two more giant explosions—
KAA-RAAA-BOOM! BOOM!— sounded
almost as one, these two under Mr.
Suickland's Pontiac. A heavy cloud of
dust swirled for a moment and all was
‚ except for the pattering of the
ndrops—and oil from Mr
ad's crankcase.

Kissel slowly pulled himself ío his
knees and made his statement, which has
become part of the legend:

"My God, what a doozy!

He had said it for all of us. As the
crowd pot slowly to its feet amid the
quiet tinkling of glass and the heavy,
sensual smell of oxidized dynamite, they
were hushed with awe; they knew they
had been eyewitnesses to history.

I idly stirred my third bloody mary
as off in the middle distance another
mufiled blast from the construction gang
bloomphed and jiggled the bottles be-
hind the bar. А passing cab sent a
reflected shaft of light across the mirror
behind the bar. It broke into a thousand
colors amid the bottles, and subtly I was
reminded of yet another historic mo-
ment in the annals of Fourth of Jul

celebrations—my father's showdown with

a Roman candle.
The Roman candle, a truly noble
inspired piece of the pyrotechnici,
art, is a long, slender wand that spews
forth colored, flaming balls that arch
high into the midnight sky, one alter the
other, with magnificent effect. Held
the hand, it is one of the few pieces of
eworks that call for real talent
skill on the part of the operator. The
Roman candle is graded according to
the number of fir :
nging from eight to,
high as two dozen, but these are very
rare and expensive. There are few expe
riences that rival for sheer unadulter-
ated ecstasy the feel of Roman candle
n full bloom, launching its fireballs into
the heavens with that distinctive PLOCK
... SESS... PLOCK . . . sss Ll.
PLOCK ... sound, and the slight recoil
as each missile arches heavenward.

My father was unquestionably one of
the great Roman-candle men of his time.
That is, until that awful night when he
met a Roman candle that was fully his
match, if not more. He was so irresistibly
lly be-
came the prop fireworks stand

a unique commercial establishment
that has, like the May fly, a short but
very merry life. For those who have
never seen a fireworks stand, a brief
description would not be amiss. They
were usually wooden stands, ex-roadside
fruit dispensaries, festooned with red,
white and blue bunting, over which was
a large red-on-white sign reading simply
FIREWORKS. And the shelves were lined
with the greatest assortment of potent
pleasure this side of the Biltmore bar.

Space does not allow a full en

drawn to fireworks that he actu
tor of

era-

155

PLAYBOY

tion of all these magnificent. creations:
the Mount Vesuvius, for example—a sil-
ver cone that when lit and placed on the
ground spewed forth a glorious shower
of gold. blue and white sparks high into
the emulating the eruption of its
namesake; the racks of slender, sinuous
Roman candles of several calibers; and
arsenals of Dago bombs, of course. And
there were the cherry bombs—ah, what
pristine. geometric, tensile beauty; per-
fect orbs of brilliant carmine red, packed
chockablock with imminent. destruction;
and the torpedoes—malevolent weapons
designed for hand to-hand celebration.
Many a grown man today carries in
his shins a peppering of tiny round peb-
bles sustained from tooxlose familiarity
with this tiny terror. For the u
I should explain that the torpedo w
парэ an inch high and a half inch in
neer, made to be hurled aga
ick wall or a passing Hupmobile
a contact weapon of singular violence
that showered its shrapnel—tiny rock
fragments—over an area of 50 yards or
more. But the lordly monarch of them
all was the skyrocket. Skyrockets were
lable in a tantalizing variety of
pay loads—from the tiny 25-cent variety,
hardly larger than a five-incher, which
was wired to а yellow pine stick topped
with a red nose cone and made to be
launched from an upright, empty quart
milk boule; up to the mammoth five-
dollar rocket that stood a full four feet
and was launched from a special angle
iron and. handled with extreme care—it
being possible to bring down а DC-3
with the proper hand on the sights.
There were pinwhecls, too, which
came in many sizes and colors and could,
if misused, be no less spectacularly disas-
trous. 1 personally saw опе pinwheel
climb right up the side of a garage, over
the roof, and spin a block
down the alley before it fi
out—after burning down 300 fect of
fence and two chicken соор». There
were many other fireworks of a leser n
ture, such as red devils, which were
particularly unpleasant piece of busi-
ness: red, paper-covered tablets designed
to be scratched on the pavement or
ground under your heel to a sputtering,
hiss tines. They didn’t explode
ed and burned and gave stu
pendous hotfoots to anyone who hap-
pened to step on them. There were also
prosaic firecrackers of all sizes and de-
grees of destruct and sissified
odds and ends for grandmothers, girls
and smaller kids—sparklers, caps and
those strange little tablets
that when lit produced a long, sinuously
climbing ash and were called "snakes."
All of these and more my father dis-
pensed over the counter at his fireworks
stand on the state highway, where the
heat waves rose and fell and the big-
time spenders bought the stuff by the

ist

155 bagfuls for their blondes and their egos.

As the Fourth drew close, his stock
of fireworks slowly dwindled until the
day itself arrived. The outfit from which
my father ordered the stult wouldn't take
any material back that wasn't sold, which
meant that as the Fourth drew to a close,
what was
ours to deton

still left on the shelves was

te and revel in. It was the

Depression, of course, and few families
had more than a couple of dollars or so
10 spend on gunpowder, so our ent
neighborhood would wait for our renum
from the closed stand on the last mo-
ments of the Fourth. About 11:30 р.м.
the sky above filled with bursting aerial
bombs and skyrockets, the rattle of cherry
bombs and musketry thrumming, darkly
in the distance—my father would s:
lets close up," and immed

egin to load what was left of
imo the Oldsmobile. Usually we had left
a few of the greatest, heaviest and most
expensive pieces, as well as several pounds
of torpedocs and sons-o-guns, a few huge
rockets and a couple dozen big pinwheels
and a rack or two of heavy-caliber Roman
candles.

When we arrived home on this pa
ticular Fourth, the neighbors were already
standing on the porches and in driveways
and lining the curbs and watching from
windows. My father unpacked his w
onry in the vacant lot on the corner.
rounded by his boxes of ammunition, he
was a magnificent figure of n—ten
feet tall, at least—as he prepared (o
bombard the heavens on behalf of free-
dom and the Star

An . he pro-
gramed his displays like à true showman,
starting off with a few nondescript pin-
wheels and Mount Vesuviuses, gradually
working up through the lesser skyrockets
and aerial bombs to his final statement,
a brace of great Roman candles fully five
feet in length and two inches in diame
He rose to his absolute fullness of
artistic power when clutching ot
these 94-ball beauties, his body sw
sinuously with the innate туйип of the
born Roman-candle shooter as he sent
ball after ball arcing higher and higher
into the midnight. skies.

The applause had grown fro
stage, through the skyrockets, and now
he stood in the center of the arena, the
flickering lights of distant aerial displays
silhouetting him against the night sky as
he took out the two magnificent. Roman
candles that he had saved for last—the
largest and. most. powerful of his arsenal.
He was one of the few Roman-candle
men who ever dared to fire two candles
at once, using both ha
ly; timing cach to alternate launching
with the other, thereby achieving an
most continuous display of spectacular
Roman-candle artistry.

It was now no more than a minute or
two before midnight, and another
Fourth of July would be history. Milk-
ing (he moment. th ly for all it

stage to

nds simultaneous-

was worth, he lit both candles. The
crowd surged forward. Then the first
ball—PLOCK—arched green and sp
kling from his left hand, high up over
the telephone wires toward. а distant
cloud. PLOCK- ht hand spit a
golden comet, even higher than the first.
His timing was magnificent! PLOCI
the defi hand shot a scarlet streak up-
ward even higher. PLOCK—agitin the
right hand. PLOCK PLOCK—now they
were coming faster and faster as my old
man picked up the beat, and the crowd
sensed a performance im progress that
was 10 become classical in its execution.

On the horizon llickered the lightning
of a gathering summer storm. PLOCK—
my father sent another ball blazing
white into the northern skies. PLOCK
a blue one, this time toward the Big
Dipper. PLOCK—a green arrow darted
toward the moon, The audience swayed
in unison as my father, both arms w
ing magically, paid homage with his
synchronized Roman candles to General
Washington and the Continental Con-
gress, t0 the Boston Tea Party and the
Minutemen, It was almost midnight now
and my father, displaying the bravura of
а Romancandle Beethoven, knew that
he was down to the Last three balls.

PLOCK—the right hand sent a yellow
star blazing into the firmament. PLOCK
—the left; but someth
few tiny sparks sizzled briefly from the
mouth of the lefthand candle. He
Hicked the tube out and upward again;
then, suddenly, without warning:
K-TUNK! From the lefthand candle a
flaming red ball emerged—but from the
wrong end! The old man dodged aside,
but it was too Ine. The ball skittered
along his forearm, striking his elbow
sharply, and disappeared into the short
sleeve of his pongee sport shirt!

The crowd gasped, women screamed,

g was wro

children wailed, ather imperturb-
bly launched ball from his
right hand toward the North Star. At

moment, the red ball reappeared

between his shoulder blades, and his pon-
gee shire burst into spectacular flames.
With a bellow he raced up the sidewalk,
over the lawn wailing smoke and
fire—disappeared into the house with a
resounding slam of the screen door. After
a briel second of silenc
the shower could be h
blast from within the d
Stunned for an instint, the crowd re
mained silent, then loosed a great ro:
of cheering and applause. They knew
they had witnesed the finest perform-
ance of a great artist.

the sound of

Outside Les Misérables in the dang-

ing street, the blasting conti

boules rattled behind the D.

what remained of my bloody

said quietly to no one in parti
“Well, here's to the Fourth,

URFING CAPTURES THE HEART OF OUR HEROINE
AS IT WILL CAPTURE YOURS -« THIS GOOD, CLEAN,
HEALTHY SPORT WHERE ONE SEES LITHE, TANNED,

@ WELL-KNIT BODIES DISPORTING THEMSELVES AMIDST

THE CRASHING SURF IN A STARTLING ARRAY OF
BRIEFS AND BIKINIS.

THE SURFING PART IS VERY TIRING, HOWEVER, AND
YOU MIGHT NOT GO FOR THAT.

THEY'VE GOT
THE STAR OF

You
MEET THE

J sure cane,
RALPHIE-

j THEYRE SO
OEDICATEO. ||
ATRUESURFER ||

DOESN'T
THINK ABOUT
ANYTHING

BUT
SURFING.

LOOK OUT
W | FOR THE LITTLE
OLD MAN !

PLAYBOY

SH! RALPHIE ~.
YOU INSULT THE
BIG KARUNA / HE

19 THE LEADER.

GIVE МЕ A WOODIE
1 WAS AT ANYTIME. YOU GET A DING IN YOUR SKEG
WAIMEA, TWENTY- 9 AND VOUR FOAMIE'S HAD IT!
FOOT PIPES ROLLING е
UP IN PERFECT SETS
JUST ME AND MY
SURF BUNNY —

Even!
ACCIDENT 2
CRINE? EARTH-
QUAKE ? = SOME -
BODY SHOULD LEAO
THESE PEOPLE
INTO GETTER

STRANGE!

~ SUDDENLY
THE AIR IS STILL >>
NO VOICES *- NO
BIROS ~- NO WAVES

"AG IF SOME
UNKNOWN OREAD
1$ APPROACHING ~

LANDLUBBEQ! YOU WHO SPEAK OF
LEADING MY GREMMIES ++ 1 AM LEADER
HERE? | AM THE SUPREME HOT COGGER
ON THE BEACH = THE HIGH HO-DAD +“ THE
BIG KAHUNA! WHO ARE YOU, SURF -NERF 2

KNOW YE A SURFER FROM A SKATE BOARD ?
* A BAGGIE FROM A BIKINI 2

THERE YOU GO -~ BRINGING IN RELIGION! JUST BECAUSE
SURFERS HAVE SPECIAL WAYS, IT'S NO REASON TO FEEL
DISCRIMINATED AGAINST —

DISCRIMINATION WORKS IN
SUBTLE WAYS. YOU CAN FEEL IT IN A
GLANCE = IN A CURLED UP —

COME LEAVE THIS
OUTSIDER, ANNIE.
HIS PRESENCE
DESECRATES THIS
GREMMIE -GROUND.
COME у^ YOU WILL
BE MY BEACH BUNNY.
TOGETHER WE WILL
WAIT FOR A WAVE.

DON'T MIND THE BIG KAHUNA,

RALPHIE. HE DOESN'T MEAN

WHAT HE SAYS. COME LIE DOWN
IN THE SUN BY ME.

MAYBE PD BETTER GO,
ANNIE. NOT KNOWING
ANYTHING ABOUT SURFING,

1 KIND OF FEEL LEFT OUT!
~~ OISCRIMINATED AGAINST 7

- A QUIET KICK !
» TROMPING 1 C ОМЕН
IT SETS YOU APART? (OOF!) .--
YOU FEEL UNWANTEO 7 (

= THAT'S WHY I THINK PO
BETTER GO ~-

NOW WAIT! DON'T
GET HYSTERICAL! RUN
FOR THE HIGH GROUND! DON'T
LOSE YOUR HEADS! YOU'RE
RUNNING THE WRONG WAY!

LOSING
OUR HEADS!

PLAYBOY

160

You've
Lost YOUR

LOOK OUT! WE'RE HEADED
FOR THE ROCK PILE f

YOU'VE
LOST YOUR
SENSES!

ITLL PEEL \ '
deus 1

HER HEAD IS WEDGED IN THE
BREAKWATER ANO IF SHE DOESN'T
GET LOOSE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, THE

TIDE WILL COME IN AND OROWN HER
7" ANO THE WHOLE BIT!

/ we MUST 7 WE must gn s z Ey
GET LOTS OF \ | SURF AGAINST ex KAHUNA V/A PL TELL VOR WHAT
PAILS AND BAIL | | THE ROCKS WITH Р Ta BO! THE PRIMARY

FURIOUSLY 1 ALL OUR MIGHT / BOULDER LIES ACROSS A
FULCRUM WHICH FORMS

* NONO! THAT š E
1 A COMPOUND LEVER
WON'T WORK / THE THIRD BOULDER
“L"BE THE LOAD AND

THE EFFORT ARM AND

“W” THE LOAD ARM =

THEREFORE, L TIMES W

EQUALS E TIMES € —

-A SHARP
RAP, JUST BELOW
THE CENTER OF
GRAVITY HERE,

LET THIS BE A LESSON YOU'RE KOHT =
TO YOU AGAINST FROM NOW ON a

AND MEET MANY LIKE You ON

DIFFERENT SITUATIONS. À THE BEACH —

PLAYBOY

162

PLAYBOY
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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 PLAYBOY. For
example, where-to-buy
information is available for the
merchandise of the advertisers
in this issue listed below.

Auto
Honda .....
Levi's Slacks .
Minolta Cameras 16
Ricoh Cameras . .9
Sawyer's Slide Projectors .....34

Sunbeam Auto
Triumph Auto

Use these lines for information
about other featured merchandise.

Miss Pilgrim will be happy to
answer any of your other
questions on 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.

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PUSSYCAT `

SHEL'S ISLAND

4 |

TOP PLAYMATE

“BARBARA”—A ROMANTIC TALE WHEREIN A WRITER AND A
MOVIE STAR MEET ON A PLANE AND INTERRUPT THEIR JOUR-
NEY FOR ONE BACCHANALIAN NIGHT—BY ROBERT RUARK

ROBERT SHELTON, IMPERIAL WIZARD OF THE UNITED KLANS,
EXCORIATES THE CIVIL RIGHTS LAWS, THE NEGRO, THE NORTH,
THE PRESIDENT, THE PRESS AND THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT
IN AN EXPLOSIVE, EXCLUSIVE PLAYBOY INTERVIEW

“WHAT’S NUDE, PUSSYCAT?"—COMEDIAN WOODY ALLEN
CAVORTS THROUGH UNDRESS REHEARSALS FOR HIS NEW FLICK
WITH URSULA ANDRESS, PAULA PRENTISS, PETER O'TOOLE,
PETER SELLERS AND THE BARE BELLES OF PARIS' CRAZY HORSE

“THE MOST BEAUTIFUL RACE IN THE WORLD”—THE FAST-
PACED TALE OF GREEDY DRIVERS PLOTTING TO TURN AN AUTO
CONTEST INTO A BOAT RACE—BY PAUL DARCY BOLES

“SILVERSTEIN ON FIRE ISLAND"—OUR BRYNNER-DOMED
BEARD VIEWS THE GAY GOINGS ON AT THAT NOTORIOUS PLAY-
GROUND OF SUN, SEA, SAND AND SEX—BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN

“MILESTONES OF SUCCESS"—OUR CONTRIBUTING EDITOR,
BUSINESS AND FINANCE, RECOUNTS SOME SUCCESSES TO DIS-
TILL VALUABLE EXECUTIVE GUIDELINES—BY J. PAUL GETTY

“MELODRAMINE”—A ROLLICKING, GALLOPING FANTASY IN
WHICH A MODERN JEKYLL USES A NEW HALLUCINOGEN TO
STUNNING SENSUAL EFFECT—BY HENRY SLESAR

“WHERE THERE'S SMOKE THERE'S IRE"—AN INFLAMMA-
TORY EXCURSION INTO THE TRIALS OF TOBACCO FANCIERS
BESET BY SELF-APPOINTED WEED KILLERS—BY POYNTZ TYLER

“FORE!”—PLAYBOY'S GUIDE TO GOLF: ITS UNIQUE PLEASURES
AND ITS LORE, PLUS A REPORT ON THE BEST IN COURSES AND
LINKAGE GEAR FOR THE PASSIONATE PURSUER OF PAR

“THE HISTORY OF SEX IN CINEMA"—PART FOUR EXPLORES
THE FAR-OUT FILMIC EROTICISM OF THE TWENTIES, EUROPEAN
STYLE—BY CRITICS ARTHUR KNIGHT AND HOLLIS ALPERT

“PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR"—A PICTORIAL TRIBUTE TO THE
NEW WINNER ELECTED BY OUR READERS’ THREE-WAY-TIE-BREAK-
ING BALLOT AS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF THE PREVIOUS ANNUM

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One good Scotch deserves another!

Blackie: Some people like trad
Whitey: And some prefer the |

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ht
Blackie: Two dillerent tastes.
Whitey: So how could any one Scotch satisfy both?
Blackie: That's why we have two Scotches.

“BLACK & WHITE,” the Great Traditional...
Whitey: And Extra Light "BLACK & WHITE."
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Whitey: Equal in qualit
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TWO SCOTCHES OF EXCEPTIONAL CHARACTER

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