PLAYBOY

PLAYBOY'S PIGSKIN PREVIEW
BUDD SCHULBERG ON

HIS WATTS WORKSHOP
HOLLYWOOD'S FIRST
PSYCHEDELIC SEX EPIC

AN INTERVIEW WITH NEW
YORK'S MAYOR LINDSAY
NAT HENTOFF ON YOUTH
VS. THE ESTABLISHMENT
PLUS KEN W. PURDY

ISAAC BASHEVIS SINGER
HARRY BROWN, JEAN SHEPHERD

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PLAYBILL ‘== ıs л Haruoxy in autumn, and

a luster in its sky," rhapsodized arch-
romantic Percy Shelley; but Wisconsin coed Bo Bussmann, the
footballtogged damsel gracing our cover, signifies another
season of mayhem on collegiate athletic fields. (The well-
rounded Miss Bussmann also helps display our back-to-campus
attire shown elsewhere in this issue.) Playboy's Pigskin Pre-
view, our annual crystal-balling, compiled for the tenth. time
by staffer Anson Mount, who last year topped all other foot-
ball forecasters in accuracy by correctly picking 14 of the
nation’s top 20 elevens (according to the Wyatt Summary of
eason Pigskin Picks, which honored him with an appro-
е plaque), provides a perfect prelude to the carnage.

Mayhem of a less ingr ng aspect--that which results
from the collision of social classescunderlies two of this
month's major articles: The Walls Workshop, wherein Budd
Schulberg describes the gratifying growth of his creative-
writing classes for the disadvantaged citizens of Los Angeles’
powderkeg Negro ghetto; and Youth—the Oppressed Major-
which Nat Hentoff describes, and analyzes, the d
crimination suffered by America's under-25 generation at the
brutish hands of the establishment.

Schulberg entered us “when the fires from the 1965
revolution were still burning." Undismayed by initial indif-
ference, he unearthed a coterie of residents eager to express
themselves in writing. Budd's article—which will be part of
New American Library's From the Ashes: The Voices of
Watts, a forthcoming anthology of the Wattsians’ eloquent
achievements—was begun in the ghetto and hed at his
Me retreat. “But the Workshop followed me to Mexico,"
he informed us. “As soon as I arrived, I was on the phone
arranging for a delegation from Watts to give readings at
Expo 67." Budd's own work seems to follow him, too; his
story Señor Discretion Himself, published in our January
1966 issue, is being transformed into a Broadway musical.

When we spoke with Nat Hentoff about his 13th contribu-
tion to PLAYBOY, the prolific music aitic, social commentator,
novelist and PLAYBOY interviewer observed that “While the
average kid today is more apathetic—or more malleable—than
counterpart of the Forties, those of the young who are
trying to provide alternatives to our way of living are much
more hip than my generation was.

A Small Buffet in Maldita—our lead story about a sensitive
aqui who encounters some boorish fellow gringos at a
€ buffet south of the border- by veteran novelist
(Walk in the Sun), poet, dramatist and screenwriter Harry
Brown, who ying alive in that contagious ward, the
world” as his most urgent objective. Buffet is his first pub-
lished short story. Isaac. Bashevis iger's The Courtship, a
i ale set in 19th Century Poland, will form part of the

SCHULBERG

HENTOFE

WALLACE

great Yiddish writer's novel The Manor, slated for publica-
tion next month by Farrar, Straus & Giroux. Singer, who made
PLAYBOY debut last January with The Riddle, is now at
work on a volume of short stories.

"The subject of this month's interview is New York's energetic
and idealistic young mayor, John V. Lindsay, Assigned to
solicit His Honor's opinions was Hunter Lewis, a history stu-

nt at Harvard and already a published writer on political
s. Lewis noted that during the cight months it took
to complete the interview, Lindsay “appreciably solidified
his grasp of the city's problems, as well as its administr:
machinery.”

Humor is abundantly present in Russ Wallace's What's in a
Name?, a burlesque of the agonies involved in affixing a grabby
cognomen to a new car. Wallace, employed by one of Detroit"
mammoth companies, told us, "My principal literary works
will be found in the glove compartment of your car, provided
you drive the right one of the big three.”

Jean Shepherd's in а new bag, as evidenced by The Secret
Mission of the Blue-Assed Buzzard; though he hasn't given
up the lively literary re-creation of his Indiana boyhood,
Jeans taking time out to mine the rich lode of his antiheroic
Army career. Mission will be the initial chapter of a new book
eyocatively entitled T. S., Mac.

One of the most unusual—yet. vastly entertaining—short
stories we have ever published is Testimony in the Proceedings
Concerning Edward Darwin Caparell, by Ken W. Purdy, our
indefatigable Contributing Editor (it’s his 49th contribution).
Robert Kaufman's Please Don't Talk to Me—I'm in Train-
ing will be part of a novel (of the same title) set for immi-
nent release by Bantam Books. Kaufman, a screenwriter who
authored Divorce American Style, began the story 14 years
ago as а saipt for Playhouse 90, "which folded the day I
submitted it.

Our cye-opening—and pupil-dilating—pictorials this month
include a sampling of sensuous scenes from The Trip, Holly-
wood’s first plunge into the maclstrom of LSD and erotica,
with Peter Fonda and Susan Strasberg; a visual visit with
comely Berkeley coed Mara Sykes, an outspoken exponent of
the Sexual Freedom League; and a picturesque survey of our
smashing September Playmate, actress Angela Dorian.

In addition to Anson Mount’s pigskin prognostications and
PLAYBOY'S Back to Campus fashion preview, our aids to the
good life include supplementary seminars on the turtleneck
and the latest in turned-on shaving gear, plus а detailed guide,
by Thomas Mario, to the ways in which salad and soufllé can
be mixed and matched to perfection. In all, and we feel sure
Shelley would agree: a harmonious and lustrous package for
brightening up not only autumn but any scason of the year.

KAUFMAN MOUNT

SHEPHERD

vol. 14, no. 9 september, 1967

PLAYBOY.

Freok-ou! Flick

Depressed Youth

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CONTENTS FOR THE MEN’S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE

PLAYBILL ... : 3
DEAR PLAYBOY... m$ 9
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS... 2 LU us
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR... —— " eum 67

PLAYBOY'S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK—travel PATRICK CHASE 75
THE PLAYBOY FORUM БЕЖЕ (77.
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: JOHN V. LINDSAY—candid conversation 83
А SMALL BUFFET IN MALDITA —fiction. ~- HARRY BROWN 102
THE TRIP—pictorial = Ra a E L
THE WATTS WORKSHOP—article —— — BUDD SCHULBERG 111
THE SECRET MISSION OF THE BLUE-ASSED BUZZARD—humor.. JEAN SHEPHERD 112
PLAYBOY'S PIGSKIN PREVIEW—sports — — —— —— ANSON MOUNT 115
TESTIMONY CONCERNING EDWARD DARWIN CAPARELL —fiction KEN W. PURDY 121
BEST FACE FORWARD —eccovtermonts... e CETTE
PLEASE DON'T TALK TO ME—I'M IN TRAINING —fiction.. ROBERT KAUFMAN 125

SCREEN GEM—playboy's playmate of the month... Е — 126
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor.. awe аве um 134
YOUTH—THE OPPRESSED MAJORITY —ariicle. NAT HENTOFF 136
BACK TO CAMPUS—attire — ROBERT L. GREEN 139
THE COURTS ISAAC BASHEVIS SINGER 145
— THOMAS MARO 146
RUSS WALLACE 149
MARA LOVES—pictoriol = z 5 uL 150
DUMB JAIME, AND HOW HE SPOKE—ribold classic... OGGIO BRACCIOLINI 159
TURTLENECKS TAKE OVER—attire. -=-~ ROBERT L. GREEN 163
ON THE SCENE— personolities. = : РЕ 182
LITTLE ANNIE FANNY—satire. HARVEY KURTZMAN ond WILL ELDER 258

HUGH М. НЕЕ!

editor and publisher
А. C. SPECTORSKY associate publisher and editorial director

ARIHUR PAUL art director

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LEN WILLS art assistants; MICHELLE ALTMAN assistant cartoon editor; Jonw
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ager; ANSON MOUNT public affairs manager; THEO FREDERICK personnel director;
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DEAR PLAYBOY

ЕЭ vores їлүвдү MAGAZINE » PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 N. MICHIGAN AVE., CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611

RELIGION PANEL
1 read your June Panel on Religion
and the New Morality with great interest
and intellectual stimulation. It represents
one of the finest statements I have seen
on the subject of sex and religion and is
certainly a icant contribution to
contemporary discussion. This article—
and ihe relared material published in
PLAYBOY in recent months—makes your
magazine a very effective pastoral tool.
Your Pancl shows that churchmen can
speak to the times in todays languaj
without all the old theological hang-ups.
Keep up the good work.
William A, DeWolfe, Minister
First Unitarian Church
San Antonio, T

I think your June Panel is the best se-
rious feature that has ever appeared in
PLAYBOY, and my experience with your
magazine extends over several years It
is important for readers to recognize that
ntertainment for men" can include
worthwhile discussion—as well as food
and drink and the other aspects of the
good life that your magazine promotes.
You wouldn't make your point half as
well if you devoted too great a part of
each issue to articles as penetrating as
your religion Panel. While it’s important
that PLAYBOY recognizes the merit of this
sort of discussion, it's equally important
for the clergy to see such discussion in the
context of other human concerns, which
certainly include the lighter vein, at
which you excel.

Father Paul R. Durbin, O. P.
Saint Stephen's College
Dominican House of Philosophy
Dover, Massachusetts

Your Playboy Panel was simply su-
perb. I'm rather tired of the terms "liber-
and “conservative” used to describe a
position taken on these issues, but I
must say that your illustrious array of
brains for this discussion—the likes of
Adams, Cox, Lynn, Marty, Moody,
Moore, Pike, Rogers and Rubenstein—
was certainly a fine sampling of the
bright and honest theologians tying to
liberate us from yesterday's frozen con-
cepts of morality, Each of your panelists
was sincerely concerned with the implic
tions of the socalled new morality. 1

was pleased 10 find most of them ad-
dressing themselves less to morality as
casuisiry than to morality as human
responsibility.

You can expect adverse comment,
especially at the scandal of religious
leaders contributing to what tradition.
alists will regard as the breakdown of
Is among the young. I guess too
many of us clerics are afraid our bishop.
cur pastor or even our "clean" peers will
accuse us of unclerical behavior if we
dare ıcll them were keeping company
with rLAyuoy. This is a shame, because I
personally think that even if your philos-
ophy and your food for hard thought
are interspersed with Playmates and saucy
humor, your format happens to be the
finest current contribution to the sexual
revolution. Align me not with the liber-
als, but certainly with those who sing
your praises for the solid good you do by
airing various views in print and by
sounding off intelligently in an arena
that is mostly full of baloney.

The Rev. Edward Quevedo
El Paso, Texas

moi

Never have E been so enthusiastic
over a single PLAYBOY feature as with
your June Panel. The views, ideas and
arguments were so stimulating that they
seemed the first honest and forthright
approach to the all-important problems
of sexuality and religion. Being a wom-
an, I suppose I’m among a minority in
agreeing with the clergymen's view
However, I'm proud to хау I do agree,
and the sooner the members of my gen-
der feel as T do, the sooner our society
will be a healihy one.

Gretchen Melton
Indianapolis, Indiana

I want to express my appreciation to
PLAYBOY for its continuing recognition
of contemporary religious affairs. Would
it be possible for you to furnish quantity
reprints of your June Playboy Panel
‘The Board of Education of the Methodi
Church in Southern California and Ari-
zona is very much involved in a program
of sex education, a program that we
think has real integrity. We involve
young people and parents in a course of
study taught by certified instructors

PLAYBOY, SEPTEMBER, 1887, VOL. 14, NO. 9, PUBLISHED MONTHLY EY НИҢ PUBLISHING CO., INC., PLAYEOY BUILDING, 919

M. MICHIGAN AVE., CHICAGO, ILLINOIS ов.

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PLAYBOY

10

I HAPPENING
» IN AMERICA

* Haig happened in modern England

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whisky for the last 25 years).

* And now it's happening here. There's a reason.

The House of Haig, the world's oldest distiller
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using the latest and best materials. Your
Panel on Religion and the New Morality
would be yery uscful reading.
Robert M. McCallister, Ph.D.
Conference Director of
Youth Ministry
‘The Methodist Church
Board of Education
Los Angeles, California

We are so appreciative of your Panel's
editorial conmibution to this important
issue that we would like 25 copies for
professional use. Could you supply
these?

Maxine Thornton, Associate Secretary

Executive Council of the Episcopal

Church.

New York, New York

Reprints аге оп the way—to both of
you and to the scores of theologians who
requested them.

In the past, T have often been rather
negative toward those clergymen who
delight in writing to PLAYBOY to support
Hefner's philosophical pronouncements
But now 1 am forced to join their com.
pany in order to commend you for your
«Пеи symposium on Religion and the
New Morality. I hope it will be reprinted
for still wider distribution. Even Bishop
Pike sounded both restrained and re-
sponsible—uuly a tribute to the serious-
ness of your Panel.

The Rev. Charles Н. Whittier

Peirce Memorial Church
(Unitarian-Universalist)

Dover, New Hampshire

€x

Thanks for your Panel on Religion and
the New Morality. 1 found it to be a
serious and valuable discussion.

The Rev. Joseph M. Elliott
Vicar, Saint Paul's Church
Bronx, New York

Not being well acquainted with reli-
gious men and the workings of their
minds, I enjoyed seeing how such men
discuss modern morality. As I read, I
encountered excellent observations and
conclusions about the moral problems of
modern -many of which suggested
that your panelists had good psychologi-
cal and sociological backgrounds. But
between these statements of fact were
interwoven weird uaius of unscientific
logic that were somehow supposed to
connect scientific fact with religious dog-
та. That the religious tenets of these
several men did nor agree, and hence
cach was forced to use his own different
mumbojumbo logic, made their ration-
alizations all the more fraudulent
Modern man is capable of studying
his social world scientifically. He can
make rational decisions about what be-
havior is moral, and he should be willing
to stand responsible to other men for his
ns, if they are well made. If your
religious men are willing to about-face

dec

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from the traditional teaching of their
churches in order to accept a rational
morality, even in part, then they, too,
should be willing to stand responsible
without refuge in their gods or their
dogma,

John Baldwin
Miami, Florida

Your June Panel has confumed the
suspicions of today’s youth: Organized
religion still will not accept the fact that
most premarital sexual relations аге car-
ried out with little or no commitment,
guilt, love or involvement. By convinc-
ing themselves that the sex act must be
accompanied by some sort of emotional
involvement, your theological panelists
seem to have closed their minds to the
central fact that most kids indulge in sex
only because it’s pleasurable and exciting.
Before the pill, abstention was largely
due to fear of pregnancy, not fear of
emotional involvement or guilt. P:
Allen Moore's statement that "people,
unlike animals, are mot capable of a
purely sexual relationship" is absurd.
Such men will have to face reality before
they can become effective instruments in
influencing our socicty.
D. E. Seger
Seattle, Washington

I find it interesting that the Holy Bible
—which your nine theologians so stu-
diously ignored—predicted even the ad-
vent of this Playboy Panel, The source is
2 Timothy, verses 3 and 4: "For there
will come a time when the people will
not endure sound teaching, but, having
itching ears, will heap upon themselves
teachers according to their own lusts.
They will turn away their hearing from
the truth and turn rather to fables.”

W. A. Smith

Litde Rock, Arkansas

Your nine assembled clerics avoided
discussing all the seven deadly sins—
with the possible exception of lechery.

J. W. Biggar
Kansas City, Missouri

Perhaps І am too naive, believing that
theologians are people who are skilled
and versed in God's Word and dedicated
to applying God's Word to all situations
in life. It seems that they left God and
His Word at home when they sat on
your panel, 1 feel sorry for you, PLAYBOY:
You have been took! You thought you
had theologians on your panel, but
ended up with “egologians,” if I may
coin a word. And I feel very sorry for
your readers, too, who may mistake your
panelists for theologians. Your readers
might breathe a little freer and deeper in
their sexual and moral aberrations now
that nine wise men have declared that
sin and guilt can be eliminated through
situation ethics. But what will happen to
these poor people? With the sense of sin

and guilt gone, they will feel no need for
God's grace and forgiveness, and hence
no need for a Savior's love, which alone
can give them strength.
The Rev. A. W. Schelp, Retired
Woodburn, Oregon

1 found your Panel disgusting and re-
pulsive. Regarding your panelists’ opin-
ions, I cam only sty that it is my firm
conviction that God has nothing to do
with these men and will do nothing
through them. May God have mercy
upon you.

Milton С. Gardner, Jr., Pastor

First Baptist Church

Vidalia, Georgia

As an cx-Catholic, I am continually
amazed that Catholicism persists as an
intellectual factor in human society. Per-
haps the most facetious statement made

sentative on your panel, was when
he said that apart from a few basic
moral and attitudinal differences, all the
panelists shared the central cmphasis of
the discussion. As I sce it, the only thing
Father Rogers had in common with the
rest of the clergymen was that they were
breathing the same air. For, while most
of the panelists (notably, Pike and
Moody) insisted оп the all-important
elements of human freedom and individ.
ual responsibility, Father Rogers found
it necessary to maintain that laws—
quite arbitrary, abstract and inoperable—
superceded this most precious aspect
of our humannes. And where most
of the panelists exhibited a common
disdain for absolutes and objective
"truths," Father Rogers was all too often
compelled to comment that its just
never permitted.

I persist in hoping that someday the
Catholic Church will take jts nose out
from under the world’s bedsheets and
мор trying to have the last word on
when, how and why people should make
love. At this point, the Church might be
able to approach the task that I under
stand it was created for—to cure human
ills not to perpeniate. them
Carol McCarthy
Glen Ellyn, Illinois

STERLING SILVERSTEIN
Hooray for Shel Silverstein! My sanity
is restored. 1 thought I was the only per-
son who had searched in vain for
"Swinging London,” which, as far as I'm
concerned, is swinging by the neck. I've
enjoyed Shel every time he has appeared
in rravoy—but Junes Silverstein in
London takes the pastry.
]. С. Collins
Key West, Florida

ARAT GOLD
Ive always enjoyed Herbert Gold's
work. His Peacock Dreams, in your June
sue, was both high Camp and high

The“is-it or isn’t-it” shirt

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Prices slightly higher in the West. Ы
For the names of nearby retailers, {
[| | vo

write to h.i.s, 16 East 34th Street,
NY. 10016. Also available in Canada.

PLAYBOY

M

Even if I cost just pennies

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entertainment. Gold was my philosophy
teacher at Cleveland College іп 1950.
One of the questions he tried to get us to
answer was, “If I had a brother, would
he like green cheese?” I never did come
up with the answer, but Gold remains
one of the people ГП always remember.

Dallas, Texas

Peacock Dreams is fine fiction —up.
/ red to this era.
Congratulations to rLayuoy and to Gold.
Pryer Ward

Ames, lowa

VIOLEN
Max Le

ner's June article, Climate of
Violence, is a fine picce, but I rather re-
gret that Lerner limited himself to the
American scene and did not connect our
own troubles with those that plague the
entire world. It is almost a truism that in
our world of modern communications,
events in one country affect those in
others. The climate of violence cer
has specific American aspects, particul:
in the realm of civil rights, but there
are many other aspects that are not just
Iwould
rner follow up his article
with another one in which he connects
happenings in our own country with
those in Europe, Asia and Latin America
Having set the scene in the United States,
such a follow-up would round out the
picture and
and essential insights into a
allects th
K. L. London, Director
Institute for Sino-Soviet Studies
The George Washington University.
Washington, D. С.

Alter reading Max Lerner’s article
Climate of Violence, 1 wish to comment
that history is strewn with the bones of
that tolerated lawlessness and
judicial leniency.

Harry J. Anslinger
Hollidaysburg, Pennsylvania

Mr. Anslinger was Assistant U.S. Com-
missioner of Prohibition during 1929 and
1930 and U.S. Commissioner of Nar-
colics between 1930 and 1962. He is now
the U.S. representative to the United
Nations Commission on Narcotic Drugs.
Many observers have attributed our cur-
rently harsh marijuana laws almost sole
to Anslinger; it was largely through the
lobbying of Anslinger and the Narcotics
Bureau that the weed was made illegal—
in the Federal Marijuana Act of 1937.

The article Climate of Violence, by
my friend and colleague Max Lerner,
raised a series of quite interesting g
questions with respect to the historical
and cultural factors that might be cor-
related with violence in our country.
Your readers may be interested to learn
that we are presently studying some of

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hiis

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PLAYBOY

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the issues raised in Lerner’s article here
at the Lemberg Genter for the Study of
Violence. Our research focuses on racial
violence in urban centers. One feature
shaping the design of our research is a
comparison of a number of cities that
have had riots with cities that have not.
In this way, we hope to learn how to
avoid further racial eruptions,
Dr. John P. Spiegel, Director
Lemberg Center for the
Study of Violence
Brandeis University
Waltham, Massachusetts

The Climate of Violence was much
more reasonable than the usual emo-
tional hue and cry I have read in other
leading magazines. How there are
several things Lerner said to which I must
object. First, he mentioned the D.C.M.
(Director of Civilian Marksmanship)
п handled by the National Rifle
ion in the same breath that
he mentioned the undesirable sale of
larger guns and imported destructive de-
vices, such as hand grenades, bazookas,
mortars, etc, “Thus,” he stated, "there is
a recklessness in the present sale and
free distribution of firearms . The
D.C.M. program shouldn't be termed
reckless. There has never been a crime
‘cident involving a D. C. M-issued
rifle. We'd hate to sce this worthwhile
program stopped because of the furor
over wide distribution of firearms. Still,
thanks for dealing with yet another im-
portant issu
John F. Benuinger, President
Zia Rille and Pistol Club
Albuquerque, New Mexico

INNER CITY AND OUTER SPACE

When 1 finished Frank Robinson's The
Wreck of the Ship John B. in your June
isue, I ed that I had been able to
relate nearly every turn of the story to
some incident that has occurred since 1
came to Cleveland to fight in “the war
on poverty.” There has always been
some degree of apathy among those who
must live close together—whether in
spaceships or in slums. Apathy on the
part of those within our big-city ghettos
has bred distrust, dislike and even hate
g Max Lerner’s Climate of Vio-
lence а fearfully real article. The prob.
lems discussed in these two brilliant
pieces are among those I face every day.
the first brings the
second as a natural consequence. It is
reassuring that others sec the зате pic-
ture I sce—and have the skill to verbalize
it for rLaynoy.

James Nichols
VISTA
Cleveland, Ohio

The Wreck of the Ship John B. is a
fine story. Realism in science fiction
sounds like a contradiction in terms, but
this truly is realistic science fiction. Like

S cem

PLAYBOY

= it becomes tedious and
put when Robinson turns
to a traveling slum, he

nsights into the painful

This deodorant doesn't |: pb LE
just protect you... pop E
| itactually builds up rr dd

^ I enjoyed Robinson's story—he cre:

t t d ed a very convincing ship environment.
a resistance to odor Reb nay DE ect coc ies Hh
БЕР +. Т т ЕЛГЫ dropped one big scientific brick, though.

How the devil could you sec a laser
beam in space?

nost realis
grimy in spo
js spaceship

Arthur C. Clarke
Colombo, Ceylon

Would you believe reflected off cos-
mic dust?

BUSINESS 18 GOOD

It was with great interest that I read
Business Is Business, J. Paul Gctty's arti-
cle in the June issue of rLavnoy. Once
again, Getty has tackled an important
subject and managed to reduce it to its
provocative and informative esence. I
certainly could not agree more with
Genty's thesis. And if “business is busi-
ay's Renaissance man is basical-
ly entrepreneurial. He has imagination,
drive and vision. He can make the
nsition, without flinching, from a
oil rig to the intricacies of a
ng typewriter,” to the business end.
of a Klystron tube, to the fine points of
a consolidated statement of earnings

In short, Getty knows whereof he
speaks. I hope that his fine article will
ree wide readcrship—particularly
nong our younger citizens, who some-

times tend to think of business in terms
of stodgy organization men

Charles B. Thornton
Chairman of the Board

I have just finished reading J
Getty’s Business Is Business, lt contains
some of the most interesting and excit-
ing ideas for young businessmen that I
have ever read. As a college business
major, I had been debating for the past
year whether to specialize in a certain
business area or to diversify when I enter
lu

е school next yea

ticle, I have the answ

Getty's
not wish to be just a cog in а business

ine, but a man with the ability to
industry. Getty
convinced me that diversification.
specialization—is the best course

MENNEN future entrepreneurs.

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PLAYBOY

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story that has a fresh approach and
leaves а lingering essence long after the
reading is over. This story did it
genuity of plot and for an ending tha
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PIN TALE

Faustian tales аге a dime a dozen; but
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both in its Madison Avenue setting and
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thing extra going for it. | enjoved it very
much.

Harold Moore
Boston, Massachusetts

BEDTIME READING

You might be interested in this photo
lan Carmichael and Lynn
Redgrave engrossed in the May issue of

PLAYBOY which I snapped on the set of
their upcoming film, A Smashing Time
The magazine was on the bed as а prop.
but between takes it apparently proved
irresistible.

Jocl Elkins
London, England

PAL JOEY

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Stephan Kenton

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Lex Kavanaugh
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You meet the nicest people on a Honda

PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS

“Тип the recollection of immortal
moments in film history—such as the
scene in To Have and Have Not where
Bacall tells Bogart, “If you want any-
thing, just whistle"—has long been a
favorite parlor game for movie buffs, the
great treasure-tove of dramatic moments
in Hollywood's lesser-known productions
has, for some reason, been virtually un-
tapped. A list of deathles—and life-
less—lincs that have escaped critical
notice, we feel, might well include such
poignant pronouncements on l'amour
as Johnny Sheffield’s down-to-earth de-
scription of the eternal triangle in
The Lost Volcano (1950): "Bomba like
David—Nona like David—Bomba like
Nona"; Patricia Livingston's poetic evo-
cation to Audie Murphy, of Cupid's
bull's-cye shot in The Guns of Fort Pelti-
coat (1957): "When I saw you come riding
in, it was like a dam busting inside me”;
Robert Clarkes pulse-pounding, discov-
cry that his lady employer in Secret File
—Hollywood (1962) is all woman: “I
knew there was more than ice behind
those glasses—if I could ever catch you
with them oll"; and John Eldridge’s rue:
ful reflection, addressed to Bette is
in Dangerous (1935): "I'm a bookkeeper
now, Joyce. in the company that I used
to own. The worst of it is that I can't.
hate you." A classic revelation of the
creative moment is Gene Raymond's
composition of an instant hit in Flying
Down to Rio (1933): "She's like an
orchid—and theres the moonlight—
Orchids in the Moonlight!" The irration-
ality of human prejudice 5 crystallized
in Stuart Randall's mordant exclamation
to Robert Clarke in Captive Women
(1952): “The only good mutate is a dead
опе!” Mans helplessness—syntactically
as well as emotionally—bcfore the un-
known is eloquently exemplified by
the police commissioners ominous an-
nouncement in Konga (1961): “There
huge monster that’s constantly growing
to outlandish proportions loose in the
streets!” An admirable example of imper-
turbability, оп the other hand. is pro-
vided by a delivery boy matter-of-factly

checking an order with a nurse in Attack
of the 50 Ft. Woman (1958): "Meat hooks
—fifty feet of chain—an elephant sy-
ringe.” Appropriate at this point, we feel,
would be Гопу Curtis’ insightful observa-
tion in Son of Ali Baba (1952), spoken
in pure Bronxese: “I sense an evil hand
has wrought this chain of circumstances";
and William Harrigan's Jovian indict-
ment of Claude Rains’ transparent wans-
gressions in Invisible Man (1933): "He
meddled in things men should leave
alone"—a line we wish we'd heard before
we compiled this list.

Bureau of Incidental Intelligence, Yel-
low Peril Division: With North Vict-
nam's neighbor to the north becoming a
bit obstreperous and our own Red China
spy network still admittedly sketchy,
we offer the CIA the following de-
scription—penned by author Lin Yutang
n his 1935 book My Country and. My
People—ol what life is like behind the
Bamboo Curtain for Mao and his hither-
to inscrutable countrymen. According to
Lin Yurang, they "eat crabs, drink tea,

taste spring water, sing operatic airs, йу
kites, play shuulecock, match grass-
blades, make paper boxes, solve com-

plicated wire puzzles, play mah-jongg,
gamble and pawn clothi inseng,
watch cockfights, romp with chil-
dren, flowers, plant vegetables,
graft fruits, play chess, take baths. hold
conversations, keep cage birds, take after-
noon naps, have three meals in one,
guess fingers, play at palmistry, gossip
about fox spirits, go to operas, beat
drums and gongs, play the flute, pra
tice calligraphy, munch duck gizzards,
salt carrots, fondle walnuts, fly cagles,
feed carrier pigeons, quarrel with their
tailors, go on pilgrimages, visit temples,
climb mountains, watch boat races,
hold bullfights, take aphrodisiacs, smoke
opium, gather at strect corners, shout at
airplanes, fulminate against the Japanese,
wonder at the white people, criticize
their politicians, read Buddhist classics,
practice deep breathing, hold Buddhist
sêances, consult fortunetellers, catch

water

crickets, cat melon seeds, gamble for
moon cakes, hold lantcrn competitions,
burn rare incense, cat noodles, solve lit-
erary riddles, train pot-flowers, send one
another birthday presents, kowtow to
one another, produce children, and
sleep.” An updated edition of the list
might add such charming customs as
engaging im posterdesigning competi
tions, organizing revisionist scavenger
hunts and, іп moments of leisure, play
ing the international domino game with
the United States,

Just the facts, please: The Indianap
olis News headlined a story about the
National Aeronautic and Space Admin-
istration budget, “SOME vast EXPENDI-
TURES ON HALF-VAST PROJECTS.”

The record number for Victor's stereo
LP of Ona Clear Day You Can See For
ever, fittingly enough, is LSD-2006.

GOD 15 ALIVE AND WELL, asserts the out-
door bulletin of a Presbyterian church in
Chicago. Below this good news is the
information, VISITING HOURS: TWICE ON
SUNDAY.

When Stanley J. Pubick, of Spring-

field, M: chusetts, died recently, he
left a large estate that included а
half dozen prize Belgian hares and

recordings of six songs he
Ir. Pubick's will,

1 composed.
said The Spring-
field Union straightacedly, “stipu-
lated that the cash and house would
be left to his wife, Stacia A. Pubick,
while the Pubick hares would be left to
be divided equally among other Pubick
heirs, The Pubick airs were left to the
city library."

The alcoholics-rehabilitation center in
Paterson, New Jersey, is located on the
corner of Straight and Narrow Streets.

After a prominent oral surgeon in
Lancashire, England, was convicted for

25

PLAYBOY

26

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raping female patients while they were
anesthetized, а wag at a Manchester
newspaper subtly headlined the story,
“DENTIST FILLS WRONG CAVITY,

Sporting note: The house rules at a
newly opened golf course in Kenya, as
outlined in The Washington Post, stipu-
late that if a ball lands on or by a croco-
dile, the player has the option of moving
it a club's length away—or removing the
crocodile.

Attention, prospective honeymooners:
A classified ad in The Boston Globe an-
ied—ten or fifteen stu-
dents to study the marital arts, judo,

ate and aikido.”

Unintentional Black Humor Depart-
ment: 1n the grim process of photograph-
ing d
storage,
Nebraska medical agency ran across one,
reports the state medical још
ly inscribed thusly by the officiating
phy: “Had never been fatally ill
before.’

An Arizona informant tells us that the
secretary of the Planned Parenthood or
ganization in Phoenix has resigne:l to be-
come director of customer relatious for a
diaper service.

One untapped new field for aspiring
executives was brought to our attention
by the following personal notice from
the London Times: “No mere yes man,
no advisor, nagger or nursemaid, but a
friend, confidant and. conciliator, А nod-
der. Is there any successful man ог en-
lerprise without this essential service?
Londoner with 231% years of extensive
research into the finer points of nodding
is available. Speaks French but has
raised the quality of his nodding above
language barriers.”

An apt ad in a Manila newspaper
described the location of an apartment
for rent as "only a stone’s throw from the
American Embassy.”

There's а
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a woman from sinking into the Rich-
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10 reach his rig. As Jesper C. Stra
pulled Mrs. Robert Allen (ree,
the Grand Rapids, Michigan, Press, she
handed him a court order that she and
her neighbors had obtained t0 prevent
the bay from being filled.

The complexity of Latin-American
po

s has x
passeth all u
an article in The Denver Post that dc-
scribed an attempt by the Guatemalan
government "to end an outbreak of terror
by left-wing rightist extremists.”

ched a point where it sur-

derstanding. as witnessed by

Sign of the times spotted on a small
sidewalk stall in Greenwich Village:
GUESS YOUR SEX—25 CENTS.

BOOKS

Edmund Wilson is one of the last aris-
toaatic radicals, His radicalism is based
on a dedication to stable values, a firm
sense of personal cli ind the old-
fashioned virtues of intellectual curiosity
and discipline, clarity and conviction.
His literary criticism, far from exhibiting
the glib formulas of the popularizers or
the esoteric trivialities of the academics,
reflects both sound scholarship and hu-
mane insight. Yet his journal of his early
years is somewhat stulfy and stifEnecked
—as if those high starched collars had
kept him from losing his head. To adopt
the prevailing tone of A Prelude т,
Straus & Giroux), Wilon was rather
solemn youth. His entries consist largely
of sepia family portraits, callow bons
mots, pretentious exercises in landscape

ing, soberly earnest reflections on
and the tedious pomp and
banal circumstance of school Ше. Fortu-
tely, he admits, “my notations were
scrappy, and 1 have had to fill them in
with something in the nature of reminis-
cences," and these passages are by far
the best part of the volume. But Wilson
has a lucid, steady, armchair mind suite:
to criticism rather than to creativit
point well illustrated by the companion
Ха 3 р volume, which reprints Galahad (а story
Jimmy Piersall, of the California Angels, uses Dep for Men. about uie sexual imidity, offal boy in a
al prep school, unfortunately
Jimm: Piersall just had his hair S led. much funnier than Wilson intends) and Z
y J ty e Thought of Daisy (a novel of Greenwich
An bod: care to crack wise? Village in the Twenties, rigidly “Literary”
у) y . and as dated as an antimacassar). Yet the
book also reveals how Wilson, in post-
World War One America, the social aris-
tocracy gone, moved so easily into the
aristocracy of the intellect, keeping pace
with life by discarding his insularities
and prejudices, yet linking, as the best
critics do, the radical insights of the new
to the enduring values of the old.

ж «holly Almost 300 pages of hell, some 88

м 2 Cu descending to said state and about two
menie HDRES STV ENS GEL, — and a half coming back up—that's what

ct

purita

If you know Piersall, you'll cool it. He swings his fists as well as he does
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of Dep for Men Hair Spray holds the line. Jimmy uses both of them
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your hair styled instead of just cut. And [5 =a kr
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Should a gentleman offer a Tiparillo to a librarian?

She'll read anything she can get her
hands on. From Medieval History
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Loves books. Loves new ideas.

Okay. No doubt, she’s seen the
unusual, slim Tiparillo shape.

She's been intrigued by the neat,
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That way, she'll have to
put down the book.

PLAYBOY

32

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John William Corrington gives us in his
second book, The Upper Hend (Putnam).
у e the paintings of Hieronymus
Bosch, you should like this novel, which
is only inddentally about an ex-pricst,
Christopher Nieman. The Ione child of

aging mother (she so loves her son
she takes him to bed with her) and
a zealous but ineffectual Catholic father
(he dies in Spain fighting for Franco),
Christopher is forever betwixt and be
tween. Things don't begin to move until
he meets Mary Ann Dourney out of t
as and Billy Bob Stoker. He rolls
loaded dice with Stoker to see who rolls
in the hay with M wn; Christopher
wins and he is henceforth ex-virgin as
well as ex-priest. The whole bunch
descends to a hell named New Orleans
d meets а flock of old people: a reli-
gious Negro who hates God: a whore-
master whose real vocation is making arty
pornographic films; a fat ex-Nazi abor-
tionist who should be played by Sidney
Greenstreet if he’s around down there:
«La lovely litle old lady out of Boston
who peddles heroin and has most ex
pressive speech. The language is richly
allusive, at once clegant and vulgar.
Everyone gets to know everyone else; and
before Christopher starts his anabasis,
there are two violent, comic (black vari
ely), melodramatic blow-ups. There isn't
a decent middle-class agnostic in the
book, so reader idi n may be a
problem; but if it's а nip through

As the whoremaster says, "Some things
are the same whether the New is York or
Orleans.

Martin Mayer has written about ad
men and stockbrokers and found them to
be rather decent and excessively ma
ligned chaps, overall. Now he looks at
The lawyers (Harper È Row), but it’s a
trial to figure out what he thinks about
these fellows. Here we find lawyers
law specialties, law schools and
counts. criminal law. persona

the casual reade

е is a good deal
of information шо this long
book, but most ар! to be
come cross-eyed skipping from one hast-
ily visited area to another. The reader
must burden, laid on
by the ukaselike quality of many of
Mayer's statements. For example: “Dis
cussions of criminal procedure in America
normally start with а sonorous statement
to the elect that all men are presumed
»ocent until proven guilty. Омог
tunately, once this premise is accepted it is
almost impossible to say anything either
intelligent or relevant about the prob
lem." Fortunately for those whose fates
depend more on whar's really going on
than on such fiat-headed edicts, thought.
ful men are saying many intelligent

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PLAYBOY

34

and relevant things about the presump-
tion-ofinnocence doctrine; legal con-
cepts are shifting and shuddering every
day as a consequence. For a chaser,
some of Mayer's personal opinions,
which often masquerade as facts, are
strange, indeed. He is not high on the
idea of “people who are clearly guilty”
insisting on their right to trial. Arguing
in effect that defendants should work for
the police, he seems to object to the no-
tion that lawyers should tell the accused
to clam up. It’s lucky for people accused
of crimes that Mayer became a writer
instead of a judgc—they don't have to
read him, but they might have had to
appear before him.

Caecum is a cavity open at one end—
called also a blind gut. The word has ap
peared before in Samuel Beckett's writ-
ings and it appears again in his Stories
end Texts for Nothing (Grove Press). "The
vermiform appendix is а caecum, or part
of a crecum, and one can be sure that
the author had the analog well in mind.
Vestigial to begin with and perpetually
subject to infection, it makes a hell of a
home, metaphorically speaking. It’s not a
place anyone would choose to live, but
s precisely the lack of choice in our
existence that Beckett has emphasized in
all his works and emphasizes again in
these three stories and literary. partitas.
Here we are, he says; and if suppuration
abounds, well, I didn't cause it, did 1
Or did I? Man as a foreign organism or
victim of foreign organisms is an open

I won't wear a thing question. Another everlasting question is
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titles of the threc stories summarize the

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passes for human is looking for a p
be: the cab of a horse-drawn vehicle,
after the rats have been dispossessed; a
cathedral's nightmare gallery where one
clings to the wall like а fly, with the void
below; а dry-docked boat that а dream.
takes out to sea, Of course, things aren't
the way Beckett sees them—they're
much better and much worse—but no
mater how strange his creations, they
have the unsettling, compelling quality
ing familiar. M Beckeuland is not
where we liv ws where dreams and
fea e us—and the aordinary
hievement of this artist is in stocking
his caecal vision with the winged. scaled.
crawling and upright creatures of a

problematic universe.

In The Farther Shores of Politics (Simon
& Schuster), George Thayer guides us
bravely through the American Baedeker
of fanatics, from George Lincoln Rock-
wells low-browed. high-booted Nazis to
Gus Hall's wild-cyed, tamctempcred
Communists, It's а story with the fringe
on top. Like all freak shows, the effect is

of see

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absorbing but tiring. sort of like spend
ing a hard day's Walpurgis Night at your
neighborhood disgrotesque. Aesthetically
speaking, it’s probably true that when
you've scen one political nut, you've seen
them all. Thayer, it would appear. Лаз
seen them all, and close up. Close
enough, anyway, to observe that onc Re-
vilo P, Oliver
ward), an
teeth

t reads the same back

tifluoride fetishist, possesses
a thrust almost as satis.
fying in its poetic justice as would be an
announcement that Dr. Joyce Brothers is
nymphomaniac. Sometimes Thayer got
too dose for comfort. In an interview
with a Ku Klux Klan leader, the Klanner
told him sweetly, “If'n vou don't write
somethin’ nice about us. one of these
dark nights you're gonna get a knock on
your door and you'll know who it is.”
There are hundreds of crackpot groups,
both left and right, on the American
scene today, and Thayer has done us a
service by dasifying and explaining
them. As he points out, “None of ив...
can afford to dismiss these groups as an
aberration unworthy of our attention."
Some are dangerous; some are merely
pathetic; a few entertain notions that
deserye a hearing. Unfortunately, Thayer

never says which groups he thinks make
2 certain amount of sense and which do
not. He lumps them all in one bag. It
may be true, for example, that both Nor-
man Thomas and Gerald L. К. Smith
reside on "the farther shores of politics":
but to anybody who has encountered
these two gentlemen, the contrast is
more impressive than are any similarities

The relationship between journalism
and literature is much like that between
German and Yiddish; they ате almost
the same language yet mutually incom-
patible. Journalism pursues the moment,
literature stalks the cternal; journali:
focuses on the event, literature draw
bead on character. The Werld ef Jimmy
Breslin (Viking), a collection of that re-
porter's columns and dispatches, is an
tempt to bridge the gap; if it does not
quite succeed. it does offer some neat
straddling. Breslin's reportage on the
war in Vietnam, for example, is in the
deadpan Hemingway tradition:
he water ran out at noon. Fire was too
heavy for helicopters to land with sup-
i The Marines of 1 Company went
through the sand with the sun glaring at
them and the shots trying to kill them

and they were licking their lips and

trying to forget about water while they

fought." Best of all, however, are Bres-

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Richard C. Wald, chronicling the mak-
ing of a columnist, and many samples of
Breslin's wild interofice memos. When
Jimmy discovered that the traditionally
Republican Trib was not going to back
Goldwater in 1964, he sent the following
telegram to Jock Whitney, his publisher:
"FROM THE START, 1 HAD SUCH CONFIDENCE
IN YOU THAT I DIDN'T EVEN ARRANGE FoR
THE LOAN OF A GUN TO PUT IN MY MOUTH
IN CASE THE PAPER BACKED GOLDWATER.
YOU DID EXACTLY WHAT HAD TO ВЕ DONE
TODAY. 1 MEAN, IF WE LET THESE PEOPLE
WITH THEIR 1. Q. OF 95 GET CLOSE ТО BEING
PRESIDENT, WHY, ALL OF MY FRIENDS WILL.
DESERT ME AND CO INTO POLITICS . . ."

Though Lewis Mumford devotes most
of his new book to paleolithic and neo-
lithic man, working his way gradually up
to the third millennium їп Egypt and
leaping into the Middle Ages only at the
very cnd, The Myth of the Machine (Наг-
court, Brace & World) is a book of
extraordinary relevance to contemporary
Western society. For by examining the
development of human culture, particu

larly in its interaction with technology,
Mumford calls into question contempo-
rary definitions of both the nature of
man and the quality of his society. Mod-
ern man, in self-congratulatory smugness
over his technological progress, employs
his own standards in assessing the
Counte: g “ci " against
agery ating the use of tools,
mechanical inventions and control of his
environment with the increasing enrich
ment of human life. But Mumford’s
study demonstrates that it is man's na-
ture to shape himself rather chan his en-
vironment, that technology played only a
minor role in his emergence from the
cave and that civilization itself, with its
overemphasis on mechanical power and
Organization, too frequently diminishes
the organic realities (work and pla
ritual and communication, food and
) that give meaning to human life.
"Though the book is flawed by Mum-
lord's patronizing view of modern so-
ciety (the very sin he accuses us of
adopting toward our forebears), his argu-
ments are often unsettling. He points out
that аш» invented the fundamental insti-
tutions of civilization millions of years
ago; and that man's contribution has bee
“the element of irrational fantasy
uniting the cultural institution of war to
the machine-centered society. Modern
man's “obsessive” worship of technology,
he argues. far from producing a mecha-
nized Eden, will more likely create a
kind of devil ex machina—for the great-
est testimony to man's technological
prowess is the destruction of himself
and the devastation of his environment.
In this, his 28rd book, Mumford once
again displays the patient questioning,
the speculative wisdom that makes him a
kind of Socrates of our age. He advo-
cates both humility and а man-centered

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05

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cosmos—but in his on, this is not a
paradox, for man is merely the measure
of all things, not their conqueror.
“Astonish me," Diaghilev ordered
Jean Cocteau in 1912; and for half a
century. Cocteau’s wizardry astonished
everybody—plays, poems, drawings, nov-
els, films, ballets—wooing all the muses
at once. Not only his art but his life
as well—as the most famous opium
cater since De Quincey, the escort of
Barberte, “the Texas trapezist in drag"—
a life regarded as both scandal and
myth. Yet just as scandal fades (Cocteau
y admitted to the French Acad-
astonishment; only а small
proportion of Cocteau's enormous output
will survive a second, calm appraisal.
The Difficulty of Being (Coward-McCann),
written in 1946, is an autobiography
with almost no remembrance of things
past. Despite his announced resolve to
1, despite his most eventful life,
au firmly resists the temptations of
Instead, in the tradition of
. їп а style at once efferves
and hard as diamonds, he writes
cries of essays on such subjects as
conversation, friendship, dreams, pain,
frivolity and beauty. His brief. remem-
of Proust, Apollinaire and
ате aphoristic flashes that illumi-
nate only the writer; as Gide once said of
the ballet Parade, Сос! “knows that
the sets and costumes are by Picasso,
that the music is by Satie, but he won-
ders if Picasso and Satie are not by him.”
At his best— as the poet of the moon, the
psychologist of unicorns—Cocteau те
veals the “inimitable. wild. nocturnal.
ulıracomplex hubbub of a heart” But
the fate of this particular. Renaissance
man in the 20th Century was to be as
shallow in achievement as he was broad
in range. Asked what he would take if
his house were burning down, Cocteau
answered the fire.” But when
the fire is gone, little but ashes remain.
Deoth Kit (Farrar, Straus & Giroux),
the new novel by Susan Sontag,
priestess of the pop cult. demonstrates
the virtues and the flaws of her talent.
The story is as imaginative as а halluci-
nation (which it is) and the brainwork is
all there; but when it comes to finding
the words and tone commensurate with
the nuances she is seeking to evoke. she
Понта
plot, enveloped in murky waves of style,
Dalton Harron,
promotion writer for a microscope com.
pany, He is “not really alive, but had a
i and decides to take that life by
swallowing half a bottle of sleeping pills.
While his stomach is being pumped out
he decides unconsciously that just as he
wants to die, so, too, does he “want to be
ig of

s in a turgid sea of banality. The

isa

is simple enoi

born." And this book is а recounti
the visions he experiences during tha
limbo between life and death: He is

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assigned to go on a business trip that turns
out to be the most symbolic of journeys.
For when the train stalls in а tum
gets off and kills a surly workman
ing to remove a walllike obstr
built across the tracks. Back on board

Зара,
being merely the necessary prelude that
аке the other, the touch of love, possi-
ble"). When he reaches his destination,
he is obsessed equally by guilt over the
murder and by Iove for the blind girl. He
quits his job and devotes himself to the
love affair, but those soft pleasures are
hot enough to subdue the hard facts of
and guilt, He pe
return to the railway tu
d there he comes across the
workman, whom he again brutally
Then he wanders through the obstruc
tion down the tracks into a never-never
land of crypts and catacombs, "looking
for his death," having “perceived the
inventory of the world.” Interesting, cer-
tainly, but the total effect is more like a
provocative outline for a novel than the
novel itself.

DINING-DRINKING

When San Franciscans go out of town
for dinner, they usually take the Golden
Gate Bridge to one of the Sausa res-
taurants where it is possible to dine
le gazing back across the water at
the Le Vivoir (156 Bulkley Avenue)
is а French. restaurant 100-year-
old house that hangs on the downside of
usalito hill and looks not at San
cisco but at a yacht-studded harbor.
Yet Le Vivoir (the living room) is a spot.
yone can imagine he discovered for
himself. The chef speaks no En
men to leave the kitchen and is a wom-

s Marie-Louise. Her husband,

Rabe is the maitre de; her daughter,

attractive young brunette,

ce, is the hostess and ge
of English to nons

and

Robert is from Le Perreux on the out-

skirts of Paris. Because they аге not yet

American citizens, they

street
The house has
It favors the

rely seen on local rei
Duck with an olive sauce (©
VEsterel), at $15 for two, is the pride of
the house. This same duck can be served
with a cherry sauce, for those who
prefer baser canards. The тепп is
filled with the expected French dishes—

550 1 ee)
youre ш.

Something to cheer about—two snappy buttondowns with the built-in magic
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gogne, Les Pigeons de Berville and Coq
au Vin—all handled extremely well. The
Medaillon Bergerac, slices of fine beef
served in a rare sauce, is а splendid dish.
The atmosphere lifts Le Vivoir beyond

that of just another fine French restau-
t Le Vivoir is literally the living room

m ra
of an old house; the library and entrance
hall have become the lounge, where one
may have an aperitif or champagne
cocktail

extensive porch areas have

been enlarged for veranda dining on

summer nights, The remaining floors of
the old house have been turned into a
typical French country inn by the own-
ers. There are М immaculate rooms
whose bed pillows are rolled French

fui incial desk lists the credit
representi;
solid Gallic business practice, bears the
words No PERSONAL CHECKS CASHED. Din-
ner reservations are necessary for those
who want a table near the window. A
dinner for two, including wine, will run
about $25 including tip. Open every day
except Monday, from 6 р.м. Remember—
when the distinguished-looking maitre
de gives you the Continental grectin,
he doesn’t understand a word you're

ing. If уоште stuck with English,
ask for Marie-France before you get
into the fine demands of the evening's
repast.

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“SPORTSWEAR he birds. Or buzz the bees.

Still serving up bountiful batches of
soul is the nonpareil Lou Rawls. This
go-round, it’s Too Much! (Capitol), which
finds Lou doing some talking (monologs
have now become a familiar part of the
Rawls repertoire) but mostly singing.
Among the high points are a pair of tunes
by John Loudermilk—Yowre Takin’ My
Bag and Then You Can Tell Me Good-
byc—and the lovely old Z Wanna Little
Girl.

On Forest Flower / Charles Lloyd at Mon-
егеу (Atlantic), the phenomenal tenor
sax man-flutist and his quartet reiterate
the reasons for their being one of the
most highly touted jazz groups of the
past year. With Keith Jarrett on
Cecil McBee on bass and Jack De-
Johnette on drums, Lloyd concocts an
alchemy of sound, as ideas flow forth with
breath-taking profusion. There are four
jazz originals and the standard East of
the Sun, all of which are splendidly
delineated.

While coming nowhere near their ear-
lier Revolver album as a radical depar-
ture in popular music, the Beatles’ new
‘Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Capi-
tol) is an exciting LP and an advance
over what they have achieved thus far.

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from My Friends is im gente, joyful
praise of getting high; the tide item
proves a rousing parody of rural com
munity enter nent; Lucy in the Sky
with Diamonds is

further development
of the techniques introduced in Eleanor
Rigby: and A Day in the Life chillingly
evokes modern life. The Beatles have
outdone themselves again and, happily,
they show no sign of stopping.

The children of the Beatles have been
at work at home and abroad. The Hol
lies Greatest Hits (Imperial) features the
Beatleinfluenced quintet on a number of
favorites such as Bus Stop, On a Car-
ousel and Pay You Back with Interest.
Somewhat doser to the Beatles is Here
Comes My Baby (Epic), in which the Trem-
loes enthusiastically render the hit title
song and nine others, including a swing-
ing version of Loving You (Is Sweeter
than Ever). Enthusiasm in itself accounts
for the success of 1 Think We're Alone Now
(Roulette) by Tommy James and The
Shondells. James’ group sings in an out.
ofdate, late-Fifties style that was а
heavy influence on the early Beatles.
‘The quintet makes the anachronism work
by really enjoying what they're doing
as they belt out the title tune, Mirage
and other goodies. At the opposite end
of the Beatles bag are The Buckinghams,
who, on Time & Charges (Columbia),
engage in a compendium of deliberate
experiments in pop sound. There are
no highlights in an album that is joy
from beginning to end. The Beatles’ cur-
rent rivals for teen popularity, The
Monkees, have come up with Headquarters
(Colgems), the quartet’s first album on
its own, in which it moves away from
Beatle imitating to a more individual
folk-rock style. Standouts are For Pele's
Sake, Mr. Webster and You Just May Be
the One. Finally, also in the folk-rock
bag is Electric Music for the Mind and Body
(Vanguard). by Country Joc and the
Fish. Leader Joe McDonald has an in
sinuating voice that wraps itself around
a fine collection of originals featuring the
quinte's hit Not So Sweet Martha Lor
raine, Grace, Sad and Lonely Times and
a hippic protest song, Superbird.

Anything Goos! /The Dove Brubeck Quar-
tet Plays Cole Porter (Columbia) brings yet
another composer into the Brubeck fold
From the title ditty on through Night
d Just One of Those Things,
ndup, All Through the Night,
Messrs, Brubeck, Desmond, et al., echo
the dass inherent in almost all of the
melodies in the Porter portfolio

iiom Makeba in Concert! (Reprise),
recorded at Lincoln Centers Philhar-
monic Hall, dazzüngly displays the
now-multifaceted African singer. Ас
companied only by guitaristaccordionist
Severio de Oleverio, bassist Alex Layne
and drummer Leo Fleming, Miss Makeba

ranges from Africa (Banoyt) to Brazil
(Reza) to America (When Гое Passed
On), giving cach country's offerings more
п their due.

One of the most versatile and inv
tive musicians around. Yusef Lateef is
beautifully showcased on The Golden Flute
(Impulse!). Heard on flute. tenor sax
and oboc, Yusef soars through oldies
such as Rosetta, A Ghost of а Chance
and Exactly Like You and jazz originals
with unclichéed élan. Adding conside
ably to the spirit of the occasion are pian
ist Hugh Lawson, bassist Herman Wright
and drummer Roy Brooks, Jr. With each
new LP, Lateef grows better and his
audience grows larger

The Staple Singers are—for us, at
least—the greatest Gospel group going:
and this is morc than affirmed in Pray On
(Epic), wherein the Staples family, led
by father Roebuck, sings it the way it is.

There isn't а false, commercial note any
where in the session. And you don't have
to dig the message to dig the music

Once n. Bobby Hackett has to
struggle valiantly to overcome saccha-
rine arrangements; but he makes the
Lest of a bad proposition on That Mid-
night Touch (Project 3). From an engi-
neering standpoint, the recording %
fauldess; Hackett’s cornet,
ion, is shimmering as Bobby glides
effortlessly and elegantly through such
evergreens as Laura, September Song,
The Touch of Your Lips and Nancy; but
oh, those backgrounds.

The Rabbit is obviously indestructi
ble. Witness Johnny Hodges’ Blue Notes
(Verve). With a sizable group of top-
flight jazzmen behind him. Hodges
paints wondrous indigo pictures with his
alto. Some of his best efforts аге con-
tained on Rent City and Sneakin’ Up on
You, where the Hodges sax is paired
with the harmonica of Buddy Lucas. It's
a new context for Johnny, but one that
suits him very well

The new soul sound comes out of
Memphis and the new king of soul is
Otis Redding. In a first-rate series of LPs
over the past couple of years, the intro-
verted young bluesman has built a list
of recordings that ranks with the works
of Ray Charles, В. В. King and Lou
Rawls. In Complete and Untelievable / The
Otis Redding Dictionory of Soul (Volt), he
takes command of 12 superb vehicles,
from his own She Put the Hurt on Me
and Hawg for You to the Beatles’ Day
Tripper. With his Memphis soulmate
Carla Thomas, Redding has released King
& Queen (Stax). The duo work beautifully
together on such numbers as the intense
When Something Is Wrong with My
Baby, the rollicking Let Me Be Good to
You and the powerful Lovey Dovey. carlo

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48

Thomas (Stax) finds а maturing talent de-
livering with assurance a
outstanding compositions, notably М
Dixons raunchy Red Rooster and a
tough medley of Jimmy Reed's Baby
What You Want Me іо Do and Ed
Townsend's For Your Love.

A reissue of considerable merit is The
An of Dennis Brain (Seraphim). The great
English horn player, whose life was cut
tragically short ten years ago by an
accident, performs works by Beethoven,
Mozart, Dittersdorf, Haydn, Schun
and Dukas, Brain's brilliant tone and
masterful technique, captured here in
recordings made between 1944 and 1958,
have not yet been duplicated. Another
fine reissue is Ravel: The Complete Piano
Music (Odyssey), played by Robert
desus. The three-record set is an out-
standing example of a performer being
just right for a composer. Casadesus w
a dose friend of Ravel's and perfectly
attuned to the lyricism of his fellow
Frenchman's compositions, as this album
gives indisputable evidence thereof.

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= Not one to let any musical grass grow
When we make a radio that under his fect, gu Gabor Szabo has
turned to the sitar on his latest LP, Jazz
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СО$ S much we re We , tar оп all the tracks, but overdubs with
di | the sitar. He even contributes a litle
owe you a lot of radio. pub ud oe
Nails. Half the wines find Szabo backed
by drums and bass, the other half by
| drums, bass and Fender guitar. Gabor's
no Shankar, but he's managed 10 adapt
e M the sitar very nicely to the Western idiom.
е Admiral Premier S
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Grace Markay (Capitol) marks the vinyl
debut of a fine new singer. Miss Markay's
voice is rich and full-bodied yet tempered
with sensitivity, as witness her handling
of A Man and a Woman, Born Free and

to station with just the Summer Wind (a ballad that can ly
touch of a finger. turn sour in the wrong hands). It is an
AFC keepsthe FM _ LP full of Grace.
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radio at a lower

James Cotton Blues Bend (Verve | Folkways).
we really mean it. Vocalist Cotton, who
paid his dues for years playing harp with
the Muddy Waters band, rolls through a
collection of blues standards (Sweet Six-
teen, Don't Start Me Talkin’), current.
е Memphisstyle blues (Knock On Wood).
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own exciting quintet throughout, he is
also supported on several cuts by reeds
and brass. In this new format, perhaps
at last Cotton will get the attention he
has deserved for so many ye
Richards has succeeded in trans-
ng the marimba from a Xavier
type of instrument into an admira-
ble vehicle for jazz. On New Time Element
Richards explores an absorbing
п of unusual time signatures
11/8, 15/8, ШТ pplying them to melo-
йе ard in more familiar
rhythms. (rues) Girl, Sunny, Call Me
and the Theme fiom “The Sand Peb-
bles” are among those that have been
structurally rearranged. Richards fronts a
rhythm group supplemented by an or-
chestra, and the results are fasci

light). Fronting his

vocal matters very much
for Now (Capitol). The
almost all by Billy May (there is a pair
by Oliver Nelson, one by Sid Feller) and
the tunes are almost uniformly top-
drawer. Bom Free, That's Life, Alfie, If
He Walked into My Life and the swing-
ng Mercy, Mery, Mercy, late of the
nonball Adderley group, are given
the winning Wilson touch.

Our Commonwealth. cousins continue
10 come up with adventuresome LPs. In
Happy Jock (Decca), The Who prove
themselves fitting successors to the Yard-
birds as the numberone experimental
hard-rock band in England. Loved by

reny beats for their stage affectation
of instrument smashing, they run
through ten smashing originals on this
recording, including the title lilt,
Whiskey Man and the driving Run Run.

Кип. The Easybeats’ PR man refers to
the quintet somewhat unfairly as “the

Beatles of Aus
Mind (United A

y have been more profoundly
ied by the Yardbirds and the
g Stones and by such early Liver-
roups as The hers. All the
s andouts, including You Me,
We Love, Who'll Be the One and See
Line Woman.

п Friday on My

Johnny Rivers began as а bad тос
roller, but. through. hard work and
lent selection of material, has developed
into one of the finest interpreters of
bluesoriented music recording today.
On Rewind (Imperial), he runs through
hits such as Baby I Need Your Lovin’
and The Tracks of My Tears, as well as
songs by Paul Simon, Hardin
5 by Jim Webb, includ
Weill-ish Rosecrans Boulevard.

Superlative trumpeter Freddie H
bard, whose horn has not received
nearly the praise duc it, supplies further

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51

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credentials on Backlash (Atlantic). Hub.
bard's group (a sextet on side one, a
quintet on the flip side) is suffused with
soul. Cohorts James Spaulding (alto and
flute), pianist Albert Dailey and stalwart
rhythm aid Hubbard in getting his mes-
sage across

Intimate Excitement (Liberty) indicates
that songstress Vikki Carr has arrived
The beat is bossa nova and Miss Carr
comes like a carioca. Marty
Paich's exemplary charts set the stage for
delightful renditions of Mas Que Nada,
Carnival, Laia Ladaia and other Brazil.
based beauties.

across

Obviously intending to leave no musi-
cal genre unscathed by their instrumen-
tal and vocal genius, Jonathan and
Darlene Edwards, who have already de
stroyed a host of Continental ballads апа
sing-along ditties, address themselves to
Songs for Sheiks and Flappers (Dot). Seismo-
graphs will flutter as composers twirl in
their graves after Jonathan (Paul Wes-
ton) and Darlene (Jo Stafford) decimate
the likes of Moonlight on the Ganges,
Varsity Drag and Garioca, the last set-
ting some sort of Olympic record for
klinkers per bar.

MOVIES

As you've probably heard, Sean Con-
nery is bored with playing James Bond.
is clear from the detachment of his
performance in Yeu Only tive Twice. Nor is
Connery alone in his languor. Albert R
Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, those per-
fectly—if incredibly—named dishers-up.
of the Bond exploits, are beginning to
run out of inventive ways to do what
they do. Their present effort is somewhat
lacking in the wit and verbal crunch of
its predecessors and relics on larger, nu-
clear explosions. The bombs bursting in
air burst very well, indeed, but interest
flags when most of the action is in the
careening of blasted bodies. As PLAYBOY
readers know, the topography this time
is Japan's, and it is handsome,
couple of the Nipponese ladies with
whom Bond tangles—Akiko Wakaba-
yashi, who succumbs prettily to poison
dripped down a string, and Mie Hama,
the only bra-wearing lady pearl diver
Japan, who survives. (You saw a preview
of them both in the June PLaysoy.)
"There are crisp scenes—a vividly photo-
graphed sumo wrestling match, a tour of
supposed police training grounds, where
the lads work out at judo, karate and
kendo with impressive enthusiasm, and a
splendid encounter between the newest
supergadget— nicopter called Little
Nell—and The Forces of Evil. The
merit, тоо, in the eerie opening scene be-

fore the titles. But too much of the action
focuses on aluminum tubes. under
ground laboratories and. spacecraft—and.
all of them at once
ol Dr. No.
The capable Donald Pleasence throws

s Blofeld by doing him
in plastic scar tist cackle
Even the serene source of Bond's inter-
national misdeeds has lost his «ool. M is
now disclosed many fathoms deep in
Hong Kong harbor, danging about in
the bowels of a submarine marked M-1.
Cute but bad form and hardly worthy of
Her Majesty's Secret Service.

bang-ba

in a scene far too reminisce

away

bit part

nd mad-sciet

И it had previously escaped your
notice that John Wayne and Robert
Mitchum are middleaged and paunchy
they will confirm it for you personally
in a conventional ower called El Dorado.
These days, it rakes the widest plug on

the Paramount lot to accommodate
Duke's bulk, but he has kept his figure
somewhat better than Mitchum has. As a
drunk

п sheriff befriended by old E

«dy

Wayne. Bob hangs out frankly over his
belt buckle. rubbing his girth as if to call
attention 10 it. Desp
Dorado perpetuates the fiction ihat both
fat old guys are irresistibly attractive 10
women, though. tue to the traditions of
the Western form, they are infinitely
more involved with each other than with
boardinghouse landladies and female
saloonkcepers. As а sop to Ше younger
audience, Wayne has acquired а Robin
to his Batman, a healthy and humorous
youth named James Caan, who handles
most of the rough physical stull and is a
dutiful sycophant to the Living Legend
But the best work in the film is done by

ле this candor, El

a hirsute Arthur Hunnicuu, who is so
funny that he must have studied a lot of
old Gabby Hayes movies

Jc iy unclear why Frank Sinatra's latest
movie iy titled The Naked Runner. He
runs plenty, but always with his clothes
on. And it iy a mystery why he or any
body else should have become involved in
this unsuspenscful suspense drama. How,
for example, did screenwriter Stanley
Mann imagine that he could build
excitement in his audience by t

эри
his hand to the deplorable Шаны
lations of the plot from the earliest
scenes? Is director Sidney J. Furie too
busy having the camera peek through
armpits and from under car fenders to
realize that villains don't have to have
deep-purple underlips for us yokels
to get the point? Why should a Rus
n secret agent look like a samovar
in а boyar's beard? Why should an East
German operative be blond with pim-
ples? The only successful menace in this
stereotyped bagful is the English actor
Peter Vaughan, who underplays a British
secret agent masterfully. He's a dull,
precise civil servant, and when he opens
his mouth, a shark grins. Sinatra is his

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victim—a former OSS killer t
niture designer, en route to the Leipzi
trade f son. An English

with his your

the U.S.S.R.: wighan’s scheme is
to have him Killed by Sina But how
"duce the reformed Sinatra to kill

again? According to this film, the British
Secret Service works with complete free-
dom in Leipzig. They have fancy facili
ties with which to simulate East German
police and agents; they гип their own
prisons and airports and fly people in
and out as easily as from Manchester
io London. The East Germans will no
doubt be interested to hear about all
this

We weren't.
Who are These Fantastic Flying Fools?
bably the

Well, nobody.
producer cou le because
of i rity to у ing
comedy about flying machines. This
m мал about th t all: it’s about
rocketry. sort of, à Jules Verne-
«d moon shot attempted from Vic
n England. But old-fashioned melle
v is pretty comic as it stands;
king [un of it tends to hammer out
e sharp parts. Here we have Burl Ives
the past of P. T.

launched. with General Tom Thumb
genuine midget named Jimmy Clitheroe)
on a last paquebot to England in flight
from a pack of irate creditors In Lon-
don. Ives meets up with Gert Frobe,
successfully disguised as Professor Von
Bulow, a German explosives genius, who,
with his discovery of fantastically pow:
erful substance called Bulovite, argues
that he can blast a rocket to the moon.
Troy Donahue. xplieably Irish, and
his French girlfriend. Daliah Lavi
(French?), hasten trom the Continent in
а gas balloon to participate in the pr
ca. Bad guys Terry Thomas and Lionel
Jeltiies conspire and connive 10 bring
this great work of science to nought.
while Klaus Kinski, as an agent ol the
czar, spies from behind rocks But the
only honest laughs come during the oblig.
tory chase scene near the end, as
iah flees preuily on a high-whecled
‘d by Terry Thomas
gas powered.

у refuel by
mps. Hermione
uice as the
ard girls.
me more isn't seen of her; she
e got this roket off the

tapping roadside gas 1
Gingold makes a brief

h;

ground,

A gang of cyclists, that lawless breed,
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The Born Losers, а trim little shocker with
ge revved through every scene of
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neptitude аге deplored in
ig detail, while the audience
enjoys the dilemma of several teenaged
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an оу. Whether the girls will dare
testify against their attackers is the plot's
main concern, but some of its secondary
concerns seem more vital. Casual faggotry
in the cycling set hasn't been pointed up
so plainly since Scorpio Rising emerged
via the underground. As a half-brced
who turns out to be the only real man in
the community with guts enough to chal-
lenge the predators, Tom Laughlin is
winningly cool. And as a coed destined
to be repeatedly raped, beaten and kid-
naped, Elizabeth James—a. pulchritudi-
nous pixy infused with the spunk of
Huckleberry Finn—manages to con-
vince us that these things just might
happen to a girl who tools around on a
motorbike wearing a white bikini and
matching boots. Also on hand is Jane
Russell, the Outlaw girl of decades past,
doing a splashy bit as an anxious mother
and hefty small-town hustler who laughs
herself sick over the benefits of police
protection. Gregory Sandor's photography
offers some sharpssighted. footage of vile
bodies hurding through the sunny coastal
headlands. ‘The dialog, generally spoken
in the flat declarative style of the semi-
documentary, is written without nuance.
“L have no choice but to let the animals
of the world take over,” groans the des-
pairing D. A, "Where did we go wrong,
Harvey?” Seldom dull, the film has pace,
personality and other unmistakable signs
of talent struggling against the I
tions of a low-budget quickie.

Audiences will detect, in A King's
Story, the charm and humanity of an
overphotographed, overreported couple.
Wally and Edward are people, after all
even when seated somewhat stiffly in their
library or garden, even when responding
to carefully rehearsed questions or com-
menting with feigned spontaneity on the
events that so changed and, some say,
distorted their lives. Jack Le Vien, who
produced this documentary from the
Duke's book of the same title, allows the
story to tell itsel{—in newsreel films, in
home movies, the subject's own
words and in deft inserts of specially
shot material. The only jarring element
is the attempt to fuse newsreel moments
from the past with contemporary enact-
ments of the same ceremonies, so that
the Duke seems to be always in black
and white reviewing troops dressed in
Technicolor. The movie documents—in
narration by Orson Welles, in photo-
graphs, in rare film footage aud in letters
read by such as Dame Flora Robson
(Irom Queen Магу) and David Warner
(from the young prince)—the sweep of
the Duke's acquaintances over a long life-
time. He was a terrified familiar of Queen
Victoria, his great-grandmother; a loving
grandson to blul Edward УП; an in-
timidated but self-willed son of George
V. Nothing in his story is more moving
than the regal solitude of his life (Cabi-

net ministers reproached him for his
shaking hands too liberally with his sub-
jects) before the twice-married Mrs.
Simpson came along. Kings who re-
nounce their thrones have made good
storytelling since kings were first invent-
ed; curiously, the stories never seem to
wear out. And it’s nice to know that thi
one still has so much life in it.

As leader of a modern crime syndicate
preoccupied with its public image, Rob-
ert Ryan withers a confederate with,
"Where do you buy your clothes—Mur-
der, Incorporated?" Ryan's hoods are
only as good as their threads, and the
foppish finger of fashion soon singles out
Sid Caesar, who, as hero of The Busy
Body, looks slim, wim and a decade
younger than the last time he came our
way in a ТУ special. Caesar plays а Mod
mobster with the tensity

that bas put sizzle into many otherwise
indifferent comedy sketches; but he is all
dressed up with no place to go. Body is
typical of
issuing

the bas «d nonmovies
nowadays from filmdom's mor-
marriage to the tube. Bill Dana
plays his José Jiménez role as a gang fatal-
ity who has to be disinterred because
they've buried him by mistake in a suit
lined with $1,000,000. Georgie Jessel does
his toastmaster shtick as a funeral ora-
tor, while Dom DeLuise, Godfrey Cam-
bridge, Jan Murray, Ben Blue, et al., are
written în for laugh insurance. The poli-
cy never pays oll, for producer-director
William Castle, moving from grade-C
thrillers into what his publicists call "the
all-out fun field," interprets fun asa slew
of standup comics mangling gags for
one another in a macabre sitcom
designed to bury Саска,

California really needs no parodies of
itself: The facts аге incredible enough.
But every now and then, Hollywood has
a clumsy go at it, and Don't Make Waves
п most. It’s the last
whimper ftom a funny novel of some
years ago entitled Muscle Beach, written
by Ira Wallach, who has had a hand in
this inflated exploitation of his original
work, Nothing is as funny as it was when
he conceived the idea; but there are
some laughs in the course of a plot that
doesn't make much sense, even with the
grosser exaggerations strained out. There
is something splendidly apocalyptic about
a California cliff house, full of motel
furniture, sliding slowly and inexor-
ably into the sea. And when the people
tumbling around inside the slipping sym-
bol of specious affluence are Tony Curtis
and Claudia Cardinale, it is an especially
satisfying sight. One bleeds a bit for
Curtis, though, cast for the first time as
an aging Romeo, slumped in the should-
ers and soft in the gut and terribly aware
of it. This time, he works his Cary Grant
manner on fetching Sharon Tate, a long-
limbed beauty who plays Malibu, queen

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of the Muscle Beach molls. There is a
fine scene during which she sits in Cur-
tis’ sack from
TV, as fascinated by the test pattern as
she is by The Late Show, while Curtis
gets very little sleep for all the wrong
reasons. There is an even better one
when the camera peers at Miss Tate in
slow motion while she demonstrates her
ability on the trampoline. This girl has a
great future in slow motion.

wn to dawn watching

Ghicago during the era of Al Capone
has a curiously baroque flavor in The St.
Valentine's Day Massacre. Producer-director
Roger Corman’s lush restaging of the
famous gang slaying in a Clark Street
garage on February 14, 1929, is set in а
аск ос Windy City that only а choreog-
rapher could love, Snow accumulates in

ice symmetrical patterns on моор and
pane, and hooligans with coat collars

turned up transport their tommy guns
© mororcars, all in
ab.

around town in vint

perfect showroom condition. The sq
ble berween Capone (Jason Robards)
and his intended target Bugsy Moran
(Ralph Meeker) over bootleg. privile
on the North Side is narrated in March-
of Timely fashion, the principals being
carefully identified as ıo date of birth,
national origin (Wop, Spic, Kraut). mari
al status, idiosyncrasies and time of
death. Corman's reputation rests on last
year’s twowheeler about cyclists (The
Wild Angels) and а series of richly pro-
duced horror films (The Masque of the
Red Death) starring Vincent Price, But
here, with his stilted striving for а per
sonal style, combined with a Who's Who

L statistics, he altogether

passion lor vi

misses the Roaring Twenties’ vitality
once sprayed across the screen by
ney, Raft, Muni and Bogart. As one ol
the seven samurai ambushed on Clark
Street, George Segal shows а little of the
original moxie: but everything else in
this period piece registers as gutless
guignol.

Impeccable acting, an intelligent script
and sensitive direction ought 10 result
in а film well worth апу movicgoer's
time; but somchow The Whisperers doesn’t
make it, Writerdirector Bryan Forbes
(King Rat. Séance on a Wet After
noon), setting out 10 reexamine. the
much-examined texture of life in one of
England's gray Midland cities, asks Jıs to
share the misery of a very old woman
who is on the dole. Since Dame Edith
Evans plays the lady, there is grace and
dignity and even delicate humor in her
plight, particularly when she potters
around with her tea things listening to а
radio commentator bemoan the problems
of aged lolk living alone and unwanted.
Poor old souls." she clucks sympatheti
cally. Her own blessings include an
errant son and а Iongvanished husband
(Eric Portman), who comes home to her
very briefly after she has been cruelly

JANET PILGRIM, Playboy Reader Service, asks
you to try REACTS—the only program of its kind
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PLAYBOY

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robbed and suffered a siege of pneu-
monia and a mental collapse. Like one of
the ever-present alley cats she converses
with, she starts out in wretched circum-
stances, is hauled up, knocked about and
thrown back again. Why? There is no
t in the film of protest against a social
em; the folk at the government
assistance office couldn't be nicer if they
tried. Forbes’ inspiration for The Whis
perers appears to stem from his belief
that a lonely old age is hell and that
Dame Edith’s eloquent persimmon face
should be seen in movies more often. He
iy right on both counts. But, ye gods—
don't take your auld mum to sce it.

Young Americans is the sort of movie that
makes you want to run home and brush
your teeth right or maybe even
have them capped. It’s about a cross
country bus tour made a couple of

ummers ago by a singing group of 36
ifornia teenagers. and they are all so
superfresh and talented and eager and
gleaming as to constitute a living reproach
to anybody over 25. But it's fun to watch
them, despite the fact that they perform
in costumes of red, white and blue. Their
tour is nat so much covered as re-enacted
but the kids behave, when permitted,
with such genuine spontaneity that the
labored bits of “acting” can be forgiven
And a couple of the girls are dearly
destined for much better things in th
personal careers. The film was w
and directed by Alex Grashoff as а sort
of planned documentary, in which writ
ten and improvised dialog compete for
verisimilitude. We can be certain of
natural action only during rehearsals
with the organizer and director of the
group, a pixy-faced song-and-dance man
named Milton C. Anderson, Unhappily
their repertoire is mediocre, tending to
the This Is My Country genre of jingo-
y
group called The Young Americans has
to sing, we suppose; and they lard it with
sprightlier numbers, nimbly arranged,
and with individual performances in
singing and dancing that are sometimes
outstanding. One sequence, а perform-
ance before convicts in the Illinois State
Prison, is particularly successful. "The
kids, evidently touched by prison chill,
ше out there really selling their stuff.
Now and then the film is hideously
marred by the sentimental plot imposed
on the natural action and by a surfeit of
flag waving designed 1o please audiences
who want to believe that America is a
100-percent-pure Technicolor movie. But
the camerawork is clever, the noise is
good and the kids, with their talent
and charm, make up for practically

everything.

; but it’s the sort of stuff that a

If war is madness, then men are mad
and the best thing to do is to lock up
the ostensibly sane and open the asylums.
Or so goes the thesis on which so many

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morality plays founder. Upon that whim-
sical shoal, King of Hearts now cracks and
sinks. Philippe de Broca, for all his excel-
lence as a director of Jean-Paul Belmondo
through world-encircling color comedies,
has no more luck than his well-inten-
tioned predecessors at making an antiwar
movie from what is essentially an antiwar
шаа. Daniel Boulanger's script finds Alan
Bates in се during World War Oi
keeper of crier pigeons for a Scots
regiment. Mistaken by his С.О. for a
munitions expert, he is dispatched to an
abandoned town то defuse a German time
bomb. While hiding in the local asylum,
he inadvertently releases all the nuts,
who rush to assume the roles of the
evacuated townspeople. In the midst of
a war of which they are blissfully un-
ing simulation of

mad bawdyhouse madam—all conspire
to crown Bates their King of Hearts
and mate him with the best virgin in
their bordello. Bates finally accepts their
crown, their virgin and, at the end, their
madness as well. It is possible that all
this whimsy might have worked if Bou
langer had drawn a sharper line bewe

men at war and men in the [unny farm.
But he could not resist an urge to make
his soldiers as ludicrous as his lunatics.

George Plimpton, dilettante athlete.

author and editor of Paris Review, is
ako co-producer of Vel, a vivid bio
graphical collage celebrating a fiend of
his named Vali Myers, a self-styled
witch who lives with her bearded mate
and a menagerie of wild things some
where in the hills above Positano, Italy.
We learn that she is а painter of consid
erable flair, who sometimes uses her own
ace as а canvas for art nouveau fanta-
sies. elt flaunts kohl-blacked
mop of
though it
might onc day be woven into а shaman-
ist prayer shawl. Vali's mind is given to
childlike

. and her body is magnificently
designed. for lovemaking, belly dancing
and bare-breasted rituals beside an open
hearth. In short, she is just what you
might expect of an Au rba
occultist who got on the road to rag
individualism after a suicidal imerlude
amid the Left Bank's low life. Film mak
ery Sheldon and Diane Rochlin spent
tuee months in Positano assembling а
stream-oF-consciousneys. day with М;
stills, tapes and color photogra

asts a spell even when the sub
emarks float clear out of this

In The Bobo, Peter Sellers offers mea
ace to that dwindling horde of
€ wont to think of him as the
funniest man in films. Sellers used to
seem heir apparent to the rather special
throne of British comedy once occupied

Bronze Statuette of Youth, Metropolitan Museum of Art

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63

PLAYBOY

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by Alec Guinnes. Now an international
star spreading a mediumsized, special
ized talent into anything and everything,
he appears headed toward a lesser comic
realm. Sellers’ Bobo, played witl
lan accent that he isn't too good at,
singing matador (or matatroubadour, ог
troubamatador, as he puts it), in Barce
Jona to seck

me and fortune. On prom.
ise of a booking at the town's biggest
theater, he bets а game impresario that
within three days he will manage to
spend a night with a courtesan named
Olimpia, whose taste runs to mink and
ratis. Sellers’ real-life wife, Britt
nd, portrays Olimpia with an honest
emphasis on cuddly pink flesh. If her co-
маг seems, at moments, to take his great-
lover pose just a shade too seriously, that
may be an occupational hazard in fami
lies that play together. Though Olimpia
is ultimately bedded, she avenges herself
by submerging Sellers in a bathtub full
of dye that leaves him blue from head to
toc. Not to mention his audience.
Investigating 2 murder in the steamy
little sinkhole of Sparta, Mississippi, chiel
of police Rod Steiger naturally tries to
pin it on an innocent, unfamiliar black
boy picked up at the depot. Some boy
The suspect (Sidney Poitier) turns out
to be the Philadelphia Police Depart-
ment's chief. homicide detective. His
"white man's clothes" are trimly tai
lored, his salary is $162.39 a week, and it
soon becomes clear that his cool exper.
tise is going to make his red-necked
colleague look a model of Spartan
inefliciency. In the Heat of the Night has a
message to deliver; but from tight open
ing sequence to cryptic climax, the heat
is on, and the film's good intentions
never for a moment lessen its impact as a
thriller. Beginning with the novel by
John Ball, scenarist Stirling Silliphant
and director Norman Jewison use the

question of whodunit to pry the house
fronts off a community where Southern
comfort means a swarm of flies droning
over a sticky bottle of soda pop, and
Southern hospitality is dispensed by
drunken bullies cruising the back roads
in search of a little racist target practice
Among the yeastier moments of this
potent drama is one in which the Negro
cop, slapped in the face by an elderly
plantation owner (Larry Gates) he secret-
ly hopes to find guilty, slaps back so
swiftly that the astonished old aristocrat
simply bursts into tears. In a perform
ance equal to his best, Steiger is at first
malevolent, finally ludicrous and vul-
nerable as an unthinking bigot made
tolerant by necessity. Poitier matches
Steiger with a smoothly shaded portrait
of a black man too angry to be Whitey’
willing helper. too proud to miss the op-
portunity of proving his own superiority.
Its a tough, wry sociological cliffhanger.

The game 15

Ring around Rosic. Or Carol. Or Eleanor, etc. Fun. But you can only play if you
wear Broomsticks slacks, Hopsacks, twists, twills, flannels in blends of Acrilan* and
rayon for permancntly pressed good looks. Play styles. Game colors. To help make
you а winner. But if you don’t want to play our way—take off our pants and go home. |

BROOMSTICKS

PLAY PRICE: $10, SLACKS BY GLEN OAKS, 16 EAST 34 STREET, NEW YORK CITY

PLAYBOY

66

east const ro.e. soe

P Bee rre балыр Avenue,

This authentic English GT
costs only $2 a month more
than an average American саг;

Hardly pays to think averag

Up to now, if all you could swing
was an average $3,000 car, there wasn't
much point even thinking about authentic
GT's. Not with prices running $6,000,
$9,000 and even $15,000.

But here is the MGB/GT for only
$3,095". If you put a third down and pay
the rest over a 3-year period, it costs only
$2 more a month than the average car.

The MGE/GT, like every authentic
GT, is a high-performance closed touring
car with absolutely unqualified sports car
handling and roadability. Plus comfort,
amenities, and room for aload of luggage

The MGB/GT is assembled by hand
andnot by machine at Abingdon-on-Thames
Every single саг that comes off the line
gets a rigorous 8-mile test drive through
city traffic and over country lanes.

Under these actual road condi-

Ї tions, MG's 1798 cc engine must not miss

a beat. The rack-and-pinion steering, disc
brakes, heavy-duty suspension and precise
handling must be perfect. Everything must
check out 100% before any MGE/GT is
released.

How can we offer so much crafts-
manship for only a few dollars more than

the average cor? Maybe because we're
the world’s largest sports car maker with
о track record going back to 1923. After
44 years, the building of safe, fast cars is
second nature to us.

But we leave it up to you. Stop in
at your MG/Austin Healey Dealer and see
if it pays to think average.

MOB/GT: ANOTHER ACTION CAR
FROM THE SIGN OF THE OCTAGON.

THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR

FRccently, т saw the excellent film ver-
sion of James Joyce's classic novel Ulysses
ad was puzzled by a phrase uttered
by Molly during her soliloquy toward
the end. Looking through her husband's
wallet, she commented that she might
find a “French letter." The implication
was that this leer would be evidence of
infidelity on Bloom's part, yet there was
no other reference during the film to any
possible crossChannel correspondence.
Can you enlighten me2—M. W., New
York, New York.

A "French letter” is not a billet-doux
but а Inte-19th Century slang expression
for condom. The phrase undoubtedly
combines England's Victorian distaste jor
sex with her traditional distaste jor
France (compare “the French disease,”
for syphilis, and “Frenching,” for oral-
genital intercourse). However, la belle
France, not to be pitied, plays the same
linguistic. game with savoir-faire. The
French have called the condom une
capote anglaise—roughly translated as “an
English hood.”

ЇЧ луг received my college degree last
June, I am about to enter the “gray-suit,
whiteshirt and black-socks" atmosphere
of the business world. "The trouble is, 1
hate the thought of dressing that way
every day. I'm convinced that a corduroy
jacket, a pin-striped shirt and an appro-
priate tie can be just as neat as a dark
suit. Can I get away with such an outfit,
or do І have to switch to drearysville?
—R. A, Brooklyn, New York.

Employers vightfully expect execs—
both junior and senior—to show up suit-
ably attired for a day at the office, not
the race track. This doesn't mean you
are limited to the gray-suit stereotype
you describe—which is old hat in most
companies—but it’s good to bear in
mind that few organizations will ap-
preciate such flashy accessories as red
socks or Mod ties. A lot depends, of
course, on the type of business you
enter. An old-line banking or invest-
ment house would obviously require
more conservative dress (which would
not exclude such stylish staples as а two-
button twill or а double-breasted glen
plaid), while many ad agencies would
nol object to the casual combination you
mention. For a complete look at post-
graduate garb, check out “Building а
Business Wardrobe,” in the November
1966 issue of PLAYBOY.

AA sweet, handsome man and I are en-
gaged to be married. We have agreed on
almost everything, until now. Now he
tells me we must have a round bed after
we marry. I disagree emphatically. Con-

trary to PLAYBOY's opinion, I feel that a
bed is for more than sex. A bed should
be functional; and a round bed is hardly
comfortable for sleeping, which is what 1
plan to do in it. An ordinary bed has
been satisfactory for our relationship un-
til now; why can’t it continue to be after
our wedding? In case 1 do have to give
to this idiotic idea, where would we
purchase onc of these round beds?—
Miss В. 5, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

ontrary io your opinion of PLAYBOY,
we, too, feel that a bed is for more than
As it happens, round beds ауе usual-
ly oversized and therefore afford more
room and comfort for sex or somnolence
than the conventional variety. We ad-
mire the spirit of sweet reason implicit in
your last question, but hope that you
make future marital compromises with
better grace. You can start by pleasantly
surprising your intended with informa-
tion obtained from the Dresher Manu-
facturing Company, 1300 South Kostner,
Chicago, Illinois. They carry a large se-
lection of unusual beds and accessories
and will undoubledly be able to advise
you about retail outlets in your атса.

sex

МИ... reading about Lawrence of Ara-
bia, I keep running across references
to his "Brough" motorcycle. Гуе asked
some old-time cyclist friends about the
machine, but get only contradictory in-
formation. Can you tell me when it
was produced, in what numbers, and why
production was discontinucd?—]. M.,
Bellevue, Colorado.

T. E. Lawrence drove Brough Superi-
ors, a cycle long considered the Rolls-
Royce of twowheelers, The machines
were produced іп limited quantity
(about 400 all told) between 1921 and
1939, and everything from their J. A
Prestwich engines to their special heavy-
weight gearboxes was of the best posi-
ble quality. The company went out of
business just before the Second World
War, reportedly because of a reluctance
to keep up with design changes. There
are no Brough Superiors left in this
country, but several are still used in
competition drag racing in gland.
Lawrence bought six of the beauties
from Brough, a personal friend, and was
killed on one in 1935.

IVI) wife and 1 have been married
about five months, Prior to the wedding,
we were both rather naive about sexual
matters and therefore limited our acti
ties to mild necking and petting sessions.
Now, of course, all this is changed and
the two of us derive tremendous satisfac-
tion from making love (кете sorry we
didn't start sooner). One small problem:

after
shave,
after
shower,

after anything...

Brut by Fabergé...
if you have any doubts about yourself,
try something else.

67

PIN-TRACKS
Walk the Straight-and-Narrow in.
No-iron ""EnBura-Press ^^ Oxford
+. «In 7 Colors.

PLAYBOY

Available at: ABRAHAM & STRAUS & BRANCHES (YOUNG MEN'S SHOP), N.Y.C.
CARSON PIRIE SCOTT (UNIVERSITY SHOP), CHICAGO * Н. ГЕН & CO., ALLENTOWN, PA,
or write, GOLDEN VEE Div., Piedmont Shirt Co., Inc., 4 W. 33rd St, New York, N.Y. 10001

For that slim,
clean-line look

slide into a pair

of SECUROSLAX®

by Life O' Ease

They seem to make a
trim waist look even
trimmer. Maybe that's
why so many of our best
customers don't look over
30, either in size or age!

From $20 to $37.50.
For mens store nearest
you write: Silver Mfg.
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63 Indiana 46360.

Before engaging in intercourse, the two
of us like to act out simple fantasies such
as pretending we're naked for the first
time, exploring cach other's bodies and
then i th mock surprise to what
we discover. Is this type of activity con
sidered unhealthy?—D. M., Houston.
Texas.

No. Often during early marriage, cou.
ples will act out sexual. curiosities that
they dwelled upon durin ldhood and
adolescence. In his recently published
book “The Feminine Mind and Body,”
J. Dudley Chapman (president. of the
American College of Osteopathic Ob-
stetvicians and Gynecologists) points out
that this type of precoital activity in-
volves “the desire to view, explore,
touch, exhibit and overpower. These,
again, should not be looked upon as ‘per-
verted’ but as part of the adjustment to
one another. Such activities are transitory.
They are normal manifestations of the
fun of sex.”

Tam а 20yearold college
who is very interested іп ў
A, How does one a
ing school;—T. L., Miami, Florida,

Write to the ential Intelligence
Agency, Washington, Р. С. 20505. While
waiting for a reply, drop your National
Student Association membership card on
the quadrangle walk and see who picks
it up.

ММ... is the proper time to tip the
wine steward—when he serves the boule
or after the meal?—B. Т., Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania.

The wine steward will probably stop
at your table near the end of the meal
to inquire how you enjoyed the eve-
nings food and drink. That is the ap-
propriate time to reward him for his
service. If he doesn't show, give the gra-
tuity to the headwaiter and ask him to
poss it on to the steward.

The teather-covered pipe 1 smoke has
gotten a bit dirty. Is it OK to clean the
leather with saddle „ or will this do
some harm?—T. M., Somerset, Massa-
chusetts.

It's perfectly safe to touch up your
leather-covered pipe with saddle soap but
don't, of course, get any inside the bowl.
Once cleaned, be sure to let the pipe dry
for several days before smoking; other-
wise, heat from the tobacco may cause the
still-moist leather to shrink and the scams
to split.

have fallen in love with a Catholic girl
who wants to become a nun. The only
excuses I can offer lor my insanity are
that she looks like a Playmate of the
Month and has a wonderfully warm per-
sonality. She says she is not interested in

brawny breed... Dexter style

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69

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spiration—those particularly
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prized by colonial gentlemen.
Hand blending imparts a
subtlety rare amongst con-
temporary colognes. Quite
an asset in your struggle for
independence.

PLAYBOY

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sex and regards me only as a friend.
Please tell me how I can persuade her
that marriage and children with a virile,
handsome male (me) is the proper life
for a healthy woman and that the dois-
tered celibacy she seeks is neurotic and
unwholesome—E. C, Dayton, Ohio.

Sorry. It sounds to us as if this girl has
made up her mind, and your best course
is to respect her decision. Settle for a
down-to-earth girl whose ambitions run
toward the home and not toward the
heavens.

ІМІ, girlfriend and 1 have found that we
share an interest in elaborate cooking,
and the two of us have whipped up quite
а few fine meals. However, when we buy
such cheeses as camembert or brie, my
girl invariably partakes of the stuf
straight from the refrigerator, rind and
all. 1 maintain that the rind on these
cheeses is not meant to be eaten and
should be tossed out. She says no. Who's
rightzF—W. А. H., Vancouver, British
Columbia,

Your girl. The rind on both brie and
camembert is perfectly edible. However,
tell your cheese-hungry chick to slow
down; camembert and brie taste best
when enjoyed al room temperature—not
ingested straight from the fridge.

Ё have been told, by a friend who should
know, that when a girl becomes sexually
aroused, her toes curl downward. Is this
а fact or just a figment of his imagina-
tion?—R, L., Berea, Ohio.

It's а fact. Either your friend is a keen
observer or he’s been reading “Human
Sexual Response.” Masters and Johnson
have observed that muscular contrac-
tions, both voluntary and involuntary,
occur throughout the body as sexual
arousal grows more intense. Fingers and
toes that are not being used for gripping
will clench, often involuntarily. Ask your
friend ij he ever watched his own toes
while sexually aroused: Masters and
Johnson observed this phenomenon in
both sexes,

ММ... is the cost of a Lifetime Sub-
scription to PLAYBOY? Is such a subscrip-
tion accompanied by fringe benefits?
—W. C, San Francisco, California,

A Lifetime Subscription lo PLAYBOY
costs $150 and can be bequeathed to
one descendant. Since you reside in a
U.S. city that boasts a Playboy Club
(the others are New York, Chicago, Los
Angeles, Detroit, Baltimore, Boston,
Kansas City, St. Louis, Cincinnati.
Atlanta, Miami, New Orleans and. Phoe.
nix), а Playmate or a Bunny will pay
you a visit to present you with a wall
plagueanda laminated lifetime member:
ship card. Subscribers who do mot live
in cities with Playboy Clubs may also

Break out the
frosty bottle, boys
апд keep you

fonics ory!

DISTILLED LONDON DRY GIN, 90 PROOF. 100% Gi , N. Y.C. PRODUCT OF U.S.A.

PLAYBOY

72

Cutt
Sark.

America’s
N?1
selling
Scotch

$3 ы

4
-
g
a
o
is
>
DE
Dn
B i
n

CUTTY SARK GLASSES
P.O. Box 205-А-
New York, N.Y. 10046
Please send me—— sets of Cutty Sark glasses
at $3.00 per set of four, postpaid.
(Enclose check or money order.)

Name.

Address

City.
NN a a S

Offer void where not legal and expires 1/31/68.

State

OISTILLED AND BOTTLED IN SCOTLAND ~ BLENDED 66 PROOF
THE BUCKINGHAM CORPORATION, IMPORTERS * NEW YORK, М.Ү,

expect to receive the card and the plaque
—and a phone call from a Bunny or, if
they prefer, from a Playmate.

If you’re about

AÀ bout three months ago, my buddy to buy a watch,

and 1 moved into a very good apartment
that includes such accouterments as hi-fi,
walnut bar, wall-to-wall carpeting and a

fireplace. By pooling our salaries, we even
acquired (secondhand) a beautiful racing-
green Jaguar XK-E. The “honeymoon,”

however, was soon over, My buddy, at the
age of 23, has only recently sampled the
full delights of sex, and he has gone over-
board in a way | don't care for. Last
night, | got home from a really tough
day at the office to find a slightly inebri-
ated young miss, decked out in bra and
panties, in our living room, with my
buddy nowhere in sight, Upon my arrival,
she took off even these scanty garments
and—vwell, hell—I stripped for action,
too.

Later, she explained that my friend
had praised my amatory abilities (which
are all right, but how would he know?):
and this morning, when I talked to him,
he admitted encouraging her and then
leaving her there to meet me.

OK, but then he insisted on a detailed
description of the night's activities, How
many times had we done if? Did the
young lady satisfy me? Naturally, 1
flared up. I told him what I thought of
his juvenile actions. He told me 1 could
leave if his sexual proclivities bothered
me. I would, too, if it weren't for the
aparunent and the car I want to
make a go of it, but how do I cope
b my friend's J- B, Bali-
Maryland.

From now on, greet his morningafter
questions with a terse “No comment.” A
sufficient number of firm rebuffs from
you should reduce his interest in second-
hand Ij not, bring up the heavy
artillery and use shock therapy: Explain
to him that psychoanalysts regard this
kind of behavior as a mask for repressed
homosexuality—that, in providing girls
for you and asking for details later, he
with you, This
he has been con
sciously building up to an overt homo-
sexual overture all along. In that case,
if you're amenable, you need no advice
from us. If nol, move out; Jaguars and
wellaccoutered pads ате not that hard
to find.

more,

vicariously having sex

should cool him, unie:

All reasonable questions—from. fash-
ion, food and drink, hi-fi and sports cars
to dating dilemmas, taste and. etiquette
—will be personally answered if the
uniter includes a stamped, self-addressed
envelope. Send all letters to The Playboy
Advisor, Playboy Building, 919 N. Mich-
igan Ave., Chicago, Ilinois 60611. The
most. provocative, pertinent queries will
be presented on these pages cach month.

why not make

sure it's a
1 stop watch

2 time out stop watch
3 doctor's watch
4 yachting timer
5 tachometer
6 aviator's watch
|4 time zone watch
`8 skin diver's watch

9 regular watch

Why not make sure it's the
Chronomaster by Croton, $100.
Write for free fact book:

Dept. P-9, Croton Watch Co.,
Croton-On-Hudson, N. Y.

CROTON

CHRONOMASTER

GOES STEADY GOES STEADY
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It’s anew idea! You're free to explore each city as
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73

PLAYBOY

74

» À aT
These are The Sure Ones.

This is their social security number.

It’s the number they count on for unvarying
quality in any kind of drink. And it never lets them
down. They pour it, mix it, chill it, shake it, stir it,
and it's always the same. Quality.

They serve it at birthdays, weddings, reunions,
anniversaries, cocktail parties, housewarmings, and
it’s always the same. Quality.

And that’s why they’re called The Sure Ones.
They never have to worry about their whiskey.

Seagram’s 7 Crown—The Sure One

Seagram Distillers Co., N.Y.€ Blended Whiskey. 86 Proof. 65% Grain Neutral Spirits.

PLAYBOY’S INTERNATIONAL DATEBOOK
BY PATRICK CHASE

AS NEW ski spas continue to sprout
throughout the French Alps, France this
nd winter promises to become the
Continents most cosmopolitan ski cen.
ter. The Hótel Du Montd'Arbois, located.
dose by the slopes at Megève, exem-
ics the affluent new wave of France's
opulent Alpine accommodations. Offer-
ing guests outdoor swimming in a heated
pool, the Mont-d'Arbois enhances its ap-
with such appurtenances as a fully

ium, skating rinks, а
мапа room, a fine restaurant. overlook-
ing the ski runs and a cluster of chic
boutiques representing the expensive
entrepreneurs of Paris’ famed Faubourg-
St. Honoré. In addition to the droves of
French demoiselles always in attend-
ance, Megève also plays host to a swing-
ing set of young Swis and Italians,
whose countries are less than a 45-minute
drive away.

A number of the other hotels and ski
lets, most notably La Résidence and
L'Hermitage, will prove to be live
overs at which to base your opera
Once ensconced, select your days s
trek from among Megéves three main
runs—Mont d'Arbois, Jaillet and Roche-
brune—all served by automated lifts,

More venturesome ski savants will
want to take a shot at the challenging
slopes of Val d'Isère, among the most
difficult in the world. Aprèsski is far
better than it used to be at Val d'Isère,
where three discothéques—the Tequila,
Perdrix Blanche and Grande Oursc—
attract grisettes by the score.

Perhaps the most vivi
runs anywhere—
—lies

nly in Fı
village com-
of Courchevel. In late afternoon,
head for L'Equipe, Cou
center, where, over a few aperitifs, you'll
be able to discover a companionable and
fetching fille. Parisian bird in hand, ad-
journ for dinner across the street at Lou
Lou, after which you can explore its
downstairs discotheque, La Grange.

If you plan to follow the sun south
this fall, set your couse for the
duned solitude of Key Biscayne, a small
ide where coconut fronds jut 70 [eet
into the ай, just a 15-minute drive from
downtown Miami. Key Biscayne's two
and one half miles of uncluttered beach
is one of America's most scenic strands.
ng comes into its own in the
hamas, a short airtaxi trip away; the
kaleidoscopically colored tropical fish
that cavort in the Bahamas’ waters are
dazzling to the eye. Grand Bahama
Island is beginning to get a big play
from sportscar racing fanciers; and if
you should linger until December 10,
you'll be able to sce the Grand Bahama

nd-

to be staged on the island's
highways between. Freeport and. Luc;
If you're meek when it comes to motor
sports, try your hand at motor scooting.
Several firms in Nassau and on Grand
Bahama Island rent motor scooters at an
average of $10 a day—S50 by the week.
cludes gas and maintenance. Pai
Island, connected to Nassau by
ge, will add another lavish lodging
this year: the Paradise Island Hotel,sched-
uled to open in all, when the plush
gambling casino adjacent to the hotel
will be near completion

Flying southeast from Na
find bareboat" fleet—sail

‚ you'll
yourself

charters—operating out of the eastern tip
of St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands.
Most popular of these vessels is a group
of 30-foot Capri doops complete with
outboardpowered skiffs, stereo tape
decks, etc., that rent for $475 a

For skindivers with exotic tastes,

west to Ceylon and Guam offers an a
of unrivaled expeditions. In the shallow
waters of Trincomalee in Ceylon, you
can explore the ruins of an underwater
Hindu temple. Ancient wrecks of galleons
can be glimpsed beneath Guam's waters
—and in Umat: ‚ а Japanese Zero,
shot down during World War Two, lies
immersed 50 feet below.

If you stop off in Southern California
on їйє way home, drive south on Inter-
ate 5 from San Diego to visit the
nythingbutslecpy border town of Ti
Aside from its celebrated sexual
ans both on stage and off, you'll
find a plenitude of other activities periect
for the itinerant male—though you'd be
wise to confine your alter-dark excursions
to the downto! ctor rather than to un-
lit side streets. For dinner, we recommend
either Reno's or Guillermo's; both serve
sumptuous Mexican meals. And for a
potent postprandial potable, head Гог
the Adobe Club (ask for the house
spedalty—a regal rum punch); after-
ward, take in the floorshow at the
Chantecler night dub. Later on, drop
by New Mike's, a go-go spot that special-
izes in nonstop disco dancing. Gambling
buffs should plan to visit the Caliente
race track, which features weekend thor
oughbred horse racing during the day
and goes to the dogs at night. Pari-
mutuel betting is also offered at the high-

speed jai alai games played Thursday
through Sunday nights at the Fronton
Palacio. As a final fillip, tune in to the

sound of one of the city’s many mariachi
suect bands—the inspiration for Herb
Alpert and the Tijuana Bras.

For further information, write to Playboy
Reader Service, Playboy Building, 919
N. Michigan Ave, Chicago, Ш. 60611. EB

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THE PLAYBOY FORUM

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

SEXUAL SAFETY

Your readers may be interested in this
“Safety-First Guarantee,” which recently
was placed student mailboxes at
Swarthmore College:

This certifies that I, the under-

signed female about to enjoy sexual
intercourse with „am under
the influence neither of any drug or
narcotic nor of any threat, promise
or means of force. I am neither
asleep nor drunk and am entering
nto this relation because 1 want to.
1 do not expect to marry the
bovementioned male nor do I
want to marry him; 1 do not know
whether or not he is already mar-
ried and do not care.

I agree never to appear as а wit-
ness against him because of our sex-
ual relations and never to prosecute
him under the Mann Act

Signed before jumping into bed,

this day of __, 19
by a е
Although this document contains

more tongue-in-cheek humor than legal
validity, it is indicative of an attitude to.
ward premarital sex that is currently
popular оп U.S. campuses. College stu-
dents, considering themselves to be ma-
ture and responsible young adults, resent
the in loco parentis resuictions placed on
their social behavior by school adminis-
tratos. One student, in a letter to the
editor of the Swarthmore College paper,
stid: “1 see no reason for our being for-
bidden ıo do at college that which, in
шапу саз, our parents аге perfectly
willing to let us do at home.
Sieve Marion
Swarthmore College
Swarthmore, Pennsylvania

SEMINARIANS AND SEXUALITY

The June Playboy Panel on Religion
and the New Morality was an exception-
al contribution 10 current theological dis-
cussion as well as to the dialog between
rrAYBOY and the church. We at Clare-
mont are especially proud that you
cluded one of our favorite professors, Dr.
Allen J. Moore.

If you would like to know the direc-
tion in which seminary students are
headed, this anecdote should indicate
their thinking on the ethics of sexual
conduct;

Not long ago, a group of first-year

Claremont students and their wives were
sitting around a living room drinking
coffee and talking. Aft
of conversation. i
couple in the room had engaged in pre
marital intercourse, We discussed not
only our opinions about sexual practices
but also our experiences in clearly unit
hibited and affirmative fashion.

Everyone who was in the room is study-
ing for the ministry, and most of us are
directing and counseling high school and
college groups in Southern California
churches.

that every

James P. Conn

The School of Theology
at Claremont

Claremont, California

ANTISEXUALITY AND THE FEMALE

As a wife, mother and graduate stu-
dent in sociology, I was interested in the
June Playboy Panel discussion of the
Sexual Revolution. The participants
were all male. and clergymen 10 boot.
though relatively pleasant and reason-
able. Such onesided representation ol
the sexes is all 100 typical of our society
d, especially, of contemporary society s
bulwark, the church.

Western civilization is basically anu-
sexual. This is becuse women have
been denied their proper role in the
formulation of systematized cthics and
laws. At the formation of the great reli
gions, women were not present. At the

initiation and passage of antisexual legis
lation, women were nor represented.
Woman traditionally has been vilified by

s a temptres, and the force that

10 her has been degraded.
n. especially if they are
"religious," have been brainwashed into
believing that these antisex attitudes and
laws are to their advantage, for their
protection. Nothing could be further
from the uuh.

Antisex ideologies are, at heart, anti-
female. They are part and parcel of the
whole sick male complex that creates
ars, environmental pollution, exhaus-
tion of natural resources—everything
that works against the welfare of the fe-
male and her young. No one appreciates
men more than I do, but only healthy
men who can relate lovingly to women
and to children—not the sickniks whose
psychosexual disturbances threaten 10
make life on this planet impossible.

For their own and for their children's

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PLAYBOY

78

sakes, women should back Pravnov's
efforts го humanize the sexual attitudes
of our society.
Janet Atherton
Mexico City, Mexico
Sec “Dear Playboy" for additional com-
ment about the June “Playboy Panel.”

EDUCATION VS. GUILT
A Miss М. М. wrote to The Playboy
Advisor in June to ask whether, in view
of her severe guilt feelings. she was right
in imposing a moratorium on sex for her-
self and her boyfriend. Many of us suffer
similarly as a result of improper sex edu-
cation. I am 32 and was brought up to
believe that there was something wrong
ith my feelings of attraction to men. I
cannot recall sceing my parents kiss or
hold hands, I never got an answer to my
questions about sex and reproduction.
By the time 1 was in my teens, I had
ze that my parents, with
sexual attitudes, could be
to read about sex,
ıs 1 could about it and

come to те;
their ап

mi
lesome part of a complete life—i
was desirable, because it would
prevent people from being driven into
unwise marriages by the presure of
ised sexual desire.
I fell in love with a married man and
had an affair with him. He offered to di
vorce his wife and to marry me, but I
refused. I didn't want to break up his
family and didn’t want to marry the first
man I fell in love with. When it was
over, Га had a sexual relationship, was
still single and was still the same person.
I was neither guilcridden nor more
clined toward promiscuity than before 1
los my virginit
lam now married, My hus
slept together long belore w
considered marriage. We
we were sure ii
pushing us into marriage. Sometimes the
guilt feelings of my childhood return,
and | read rravsov to remind myself
I've made tremendous progress and
that I'm not the only person with prob-
Jems, People always bear the scars of their
upbringing, but they can’t let that stop
them from living.
(Name withheld by request)
Alexandria, Virgi

and and
sei
ited

until
wasn't just sex that was

PUBLIC NUDITY

Here in. Miami Beach
revise judicial thinking on
posure” was made by a lawyer who used
упот as part of his evidence. A woman
and her male companion were arrested
for a predawn nude swim at the beach.
The lady's attorneys argued that nudity
is not shocking "under our ch:
mores" and pointed out that public
acceptance of PLAYBOY proves this.

The judge didn't buy it, probably be-

п attempt to
ndecent ex-

cause the lawyers’ arguments centered on
justifying the exposure of the upper por-
поп of the woman's anatomy, while the
rresting officer testified that she was also
nude from the waist down. In addition
the judge objected because some teen-
agers got a peck at the couple as the
sun came up. So “decency” won again,
nd each defendant was fined $50.
I doubt that prior to today’
alized moral climate a lawyer would have
де the common del
t exposure.” PLAYROY
helped change this country’s mores.
Edwin Flanders
Miami Beach, Florida

liber-

has

NEW ZEALAND ZEALOTS
The film version of Ulysses is to be
released here in New Zealand in a few
weeks and, believe it or not, zealots of
reform have come up with a Te-
able device for protecting us from
terribly dangerous work of art.
There will be alternate days for male
and female viewings.
Imagine—homosexuals
motion picture together. but
married husband and wife ca
Terry Finch
Dunedin, New Ze:

sce this
legally

ot!

can

nd

"NCOMP-ETENCE'^

The National Catholic Office for
Motion Pictures (NCOMP) is merely
another name for that medieval crusade,

the Legion of Decency, The bureaucratic
blandnes of the new паше, adopted
in 1965, is p

of an ellort by Catholic
ve themselves ап up-to-date
image, an effort that included амаг
good marks to such pictures as Darling,
Juliet of the Spirits and The L-Shaped
Room (not because they were good
movies, but because their underlying
1 message was acceptable to the
ch, which g movies
as propagand

Recently the NCOMP demonstrated
that the name may have changed but
the obsessions are the same. The Office
demanded surge
rd-second slice of the 20th Century-
picture Caprice because the rear
of Irene Tsu is brielly exposed.
surrendered, but complained that
COMP had classified Ulysses "mor-
y unobjecionable for adults, with
reservations," even though it showed the
naked backsides of actors T. P. McKenna
and Joe Lynch. The Reverend Patrick J.
Sullivan, the MP's director, re-
plied that, since the Irish bottoms were
male, they would not “present a problem
to a normal individual" but a female
posterior * stimu

The female body is sexually stimu-
lating and must be hidden, Father Sul-
livan thinks, while the male body is
ineffectual in thi
exposed. In m.
antiquated and slightly sick distinction,

the NCOMP, purportedly an uptodate
arm of the Church, shows itself firmly
seated in the “derriêre-garde."
Charles Reagan
Beston, Massachuseus

INVISIBLE FILTH
The naked invisible man on The

Avengers, about which the anonymous
woman complained (The Playboy Forum.
June). was not the first such filthy
phantom in popular entertainment. In
The Invisible Man, Claude Rains way
represented sometimes by an empty sui
of clothes and sometimes by footsteps and
other sound effeets—that is, he had alo
taken off his clothes. The same was tru
of Vincent Price in The Invisible Man
Returns, Both of these movies came out
years ago and society has somehow man-
ged to survive the demoralizing effect of
these lewd invisible male bodies.

Robert Wicker

Los Angeles, California

SON OF INVISIBLE FILTH

Not long ayo, I sat down in front of
my TV set and innocently turned on The
Avengers. Imagine my shock when, in
show called “The Sce-Through Man,
saw

I

ible man without any clothes

inv
on! Certainly something had to be donc
10 prevent such trash from dirtying the

morals of our children. So I called the
television networ

‘Complaint department. May 1 help
you?

“You sure can, young lady. I'm the
тап from CLOD

"From ‘CLOD'?"
isade to Liquidate Obscene Dirt.
I'm calling to complain about the naked
invisible man.”

“Are you spca
SceThrough Man,’ si

"Nonc other. And we sce through you,
too. And what we see is pure smut!

“Pure smut’

"Pure! A naked invisible man can't
fool us! How darc you corrupt our
children with smut? We've spent hours
washing out their eyes with soap."

"But. sir, no one сап sez the invisible

g of our show “The

does that make?

ference

ms still naked, whether you sce him or
. Its a Communist plot! An invisible
CES plot! Putting а naked invisi-

blc Communist on television. You've
been infiltrated by godless, smutty com-
munism, in all its nuked depravity.”
I'll have to refer you to my superior,
sir. IF youll just
"But we CLODs have what it takes to
see through that see-through man! Im-
agination! We have plenty of that,
young lady. We can sce this see-through
man’s nakedness, even if it is invisible
Next you'll have a see-through woman,

We'll sce through her. too. Imagination,
that’s all it will take—to see her
lascivious naked voluptuousness her

depraved curves, made for lust and pas-
sion . . . her suggestive undulations and
. and
l passions . . . and frustrations. . .”
"I'm sony, sir, but”

“Then you'll have couples. Naked in-
ble men and women. Flaunting their
bodies together. Together. It

... and throbbing movements .
à

E

nude

doesn't take much imagination to see

what will happen then! Lusts апа раз
oc

and

nis exposed for everyone to s

"But, sir- *
“Next you'll have a white man and a
ck girl, or a black man and a white

1, or white men and black girls or
black men and white girls, or black men
and white men and white girls and black
ed! Together! Doing every
conceivable depraved thing. All de-
bauched. Smutty. Doing everything.

“And then you'll bring in animals

. . . dogs - . . donkeys .. . sheep...
ducks ... owls . . . all invisible . . .
frustrated...”

; Im but we have been

instructed to hang up obscene
telephone calls." Glick.
John Keefauver

Carmel, Californ

on

ACADEMIC FREEDOM
id Casello is a teacher
sh who has just been barred
from his classroom at Mira Loma High
School in Sacramento—after seven years
of excellent service in his school district.

He was suspended for holding discu:
sions “pertaining to [students] attitudes
toward smoking tobacco, the consump-
tion of alcoholic beverages, the use of
marijuana, the use of LSD, premarital
sexual relations, prostitution, abortion,
the role of women and parental relation-
ships.” Casello was holding seminar-type
discussions with senior students, hoping
to overcome the intense problems of
in our society. Jt was a
g such discus-
unless, of course, words and con-
cepts are, of themselves, terrifi

communicatio!

district in which Mr.
xd so well is h

long à $ an enormous
problem” with juvenile drug use and
that this problem (from my observations
as а substitute teacher in the same dis-
uic) stems fom the indifference of
teachers, adminisuators and рате
their children’s emotions.
William B. Mucller
Sacramento, С

1o

BAN, BABY, BAN

Chalk up another small victory for
ignorance. Sheriff William E. Davis of
Pensacola, Florida, wanted One Day in

the Life of lvan Denisovich by Alexan-

der
cou

Solzhenitsyn removed from the
wy school libraries because it coi

tains Anglo-Saxon swearwords. He said,
I think it's wrong to read such words
in the public school system.” Other
citizens insisted that Aldous Huxley's
Brave New World, which was on
quired reading lists, should be ta
of the school libraries because it was not
suitable for students.

Instead of ruling that the complain-
anis be sent back to school for needed
remedial education, the county Board of
Public Instruction ruled that henceforth
a censored edition of the Russian novel
would be used in place of the book the
author actually wrote and that Brave
New World would be taken olf the re-
g lists, although it would
the libraries.

Гуе been reading about similar cases
around the country, and I note that
these two books, along with George Or-
well’s 1984, seem to come under an unu-
sual amount of fire from the cranks who
wage war on books. The ostensible rea-
son for the attacks is the language or the
E
the real reason isn't that these
books, describing life under totalit:
regimes, hit the book banners where it
hurts the most.

ual activities portrayed. I wonder if
three

John Hearty
Pensacola, Flori

PURITANS IN PARADISE

Honolulu now has its own Citizens for
Decent Literature, who are trying to
take over our dise of the Pai
nd damp a lid on free expression. They
are printing huge ads in the Honolulu
Star-Bulletin, warning of the horrible
nd soliciting
ance their cru.

contributions to help fir
sade against liberty.
We H;

freedom-loving
people, beautiful spot
among friendly and peaceful persons of
many ethnic groups. We didn't ask the
CDE to come in and tell us what to do,
what to say and what to read. What
we do to stamp out this unwelcome

a Hanohano
Honolulu, Haw

Organize. A National Council for
Freedom to Read was formed this year by
representatives of the Illinois, Maryland,
New Jersey and New York freedom-
toread groups. Im addition to wel-
coming participation by anticensorship
organizations in other states, the Nation-
al Council offers suggestions on how
to form local anticensorship groups in
that do
them. Inquiries should be addressed to
Joseph W. Faulkner, 612 North Michi-
gan Avenue, Chicago, Mlinois 60611.

For readers in states that already have
freedom-to-read groups, membership in-
formation can be obtained at the follow-
ing addresses.

Illinois: Write to Joseph Faulkner at
the above address,

those states not already have

Maryland: Brent Peabody, Maryland
Freedom to Read Committee, Silver
Spring, Maryland 20901.

New Jersey: Mrs. Rita D' Joseph, New
Jersey Committee for the Right to Read,
P.O. Вох 250, Caldwell, New Jersey
07006.

New York: Marlin Swenson, Audience
Unlimited, P.O. Box 3814, Rochester,
New York 14610.

SUPREME COURT IN WONDERLAND
1 quote from a recent Washington
Post story:

The Post Office Depa
ask Congress for а law prohibiting
unsolicited advertising that offers to
sell salacious material . . .

The legislation will be based on
Supreme Court rulings in the Ralph.
Ginzburg case, in which a New
York publisher was convicted on the

is of advertisements оп behalf
of his controversial publications,

tment will

Unless English words no longer mean
what they wsed to mean, this clearly
indicates that Ralph Ginzburg was con-
victed under а law that did not exist at
that time but may exist in the future. It
all reminds me of the Queen of Hearts:

"Let the jury consider thei
dict,” the King said, for about the
20th time that day.

"No, No!” said the Queen. “Sen-

tence first—verdict айе rd."
"Stuff and nonsense!” Alice
loudly. “The idea of hh ng the
sentence first!
"Hold your tongue!” said the

g purple.
said Alice.

“Off with her head!" the Queen
shouted at the top of her voice.

David Jensen
New York, New York

THE DEFENSE RESTS

The following clipping from the Nor-
folk, Virginia, Ledger-Star should pro-
gh for those who have
run afoul of postal inspectors:

Ah, the legal mind!

"They're telling the story here of
the Norfolk lawyer who undertook
to defend a prisoner charged with
sending an obscene publication
through the mails.

The lawyer telephoned the Jus
tice Department and asked if he
could see a copy of the offending
document.
he Deparum

ut promised him
onc.

А couple of days later, it arrived.
—through the mails.

Richard Hartman
Virginia Beach, Vi

78

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POSTAL PRIVACY

My wife and I belong to a “correspond-
ence club" of the sort most often har-
assed by the postal inspectors; therefore,
I followed The Playboy Forun with great

инеге

last year when jou were running
the se
of pi
de:

s of letters on postal invasions
T

ivacy. As a result, I learned a gi

about my constitutional. г

Last month, iwo postal inspectors
called on me and began asking about
the club to which I belong. T announced
that if they violated my civil liberties in
ny way, I would write to PLAYBOY, lo
Post Olfice General Counsel. Timothy
May. to U. S. Senator Edward Long and

to my own state congressmen. I then asked
for the inspectors’ identification cards
ind took down their names and numbers.

They quickly lost interest in me and
left, and I have not heard from them
since. IE T hadn't read your exposé, these
inspectors might well have intimidated
ше, аз happened to some of the persons
who wrote w you early lasi year about
this harassment

(Name and address
withheld by request)

POSTAL BLACKMAIL

In the February Playboy Forum. there
was a moving account of how one man's
Gneer was ruined by a Texas postal
inspector, Postal inspectors in this state
seem to bc fond of such activity. Last
year, a client of mine was accused of
mailing a nude photograph of himself to
а woman in another state. My client
was contacted by a рома] inspector,
who advised him and me Шш, if my
dient would agree to accept a fine on a
plea of guilty to a state charge of рох
sessing obscene photographs, he would
not be prosecuted in the Federal courts.
1 advised the postal inspector that 1 was
disturbed. by his approach, since he un.
doubtedly knew that United States At
tomeys were under instructions not. to
prosecute cases involving consensual mail-
ings of а noncommercial nature, Further,
coercing а plea of guilty in a state court
in order to suppress a Federal criminal
charge seemed inappropriate for а Gov-

ernment official. I advised him to con-

fer with the state's attorney as well as
the United States Ацотеу to determine
whether he was not himself engaged in
criminal behavior

In a contested actio,

as would have been un:

the state of Tex:
ble to prove ту

dient guilty of possessing obscene photo-
graphs, However, he did nor care to see
his reputation destroved by the publicity
involved in a contested proceeding. He,
therefore, decided to accept the offer of
the postal inspector that he be "run
though the D. A's office and the court”
on a complaint and plea of guilty and
that he pay a $1000 fine. Undoubtedly
this choice was anticipated by the postal
inspector.

It would seem that the Post Office De-
partment should have other and more
significant problems to deal with. The
activities of the postal inspector in this
instance were, in my opinion, despicable.
It would be interesting to determine from
aders just how prevalent this prac-

your

tice may be throughout the country—a
practice I consider nothing short of
blackmail."

I would be willing to disclose all nec-
essary names and facts, if contacted by
authorized Justice Department personnel

Emmett Colvin, Jr
Attorney at Law
Dallas, Texas

legal

BUGLESS INVESTIGATION

1 appeared before Senator Edward
Long's Subcommittee on Administra
tive Practice and Procedure, at a hearing
lor the Senators proposed Right to
Privacy Act, which is designed to re-
strict electronic eavesdropping by Fed.
eral investigative agencies. I am chief
or for the Social Security Ad
minisuation and was asked to testify be
cause, even though we do not employ
eavesdropping devices, we are very suc
cessful im our investigations. PLAYBOY

investig

readers may be interested in the summa
tion of my testimony

I do not speak for the Depart-
ment of Health, Education and
Welfare nor for the Social Security
Administration, but testify as а
Federal criminal investigator with
22 years of experience. 1 have felt
for some time that immodcratc usc
of electronic listening devices and
other investigative gimmicks is pre-
Gpitated by inadequate training.
in conventional investigative tech-
niques

I am convinced that the use of
eavesdropping devices has grown
out of all proportion to the increase
in the type of crimes that, allegedly,
cannot be solved without their us
Many major crimes of this century
before such devices
were developed. Too many invest
tors have resorted to their wholesale
method of
deficiencies in

were solved
а;

изе аз а short cut or

compensating for
ning

Invest

gators who have ready ac-
cess to electronic listening devices
become addicted to them and de
pend on them, even in cases that
might be more readily solved by
other methods. As the caliber of
investigative personnel improves, 1
hope that the gathering of admis-
sible evidence to support criminal
prosecutions will be accomplished
legally y and that
the gathering of intelligence for use
in administrative and other civic
alfairs will be accomplished тоге
and more through the usc of per-
sonal ingenuity and less and less

nd with inte

through the use of mechanical
gadgets.

Under my supervision, the So-
cial Security Adm
tigations team has handled hundreds
of cases. We have never used elec-
tronic listening devices or any other
mechanical gadgets. Yet our investi
gations have not been hampered in
any vay due to this fact.

istration's inves-

John Neely
Chief, Investigations Branch
Social Security Admis
Washington, D. C.
Now that the Supreme Court has
declared unconstitutional the New York
law permitting cour-approved electronic
eavesdropping by police (June 1967)—
thereby severely restricting. this proce-
dure—it appears that other investiga-
live groups will have to adhere to the high
standards you have set for your agency.

A QUEER SORT OF ARREST

PLAYBOY is to be congratulated for
printing several letters about the perse-
cution of homosexuals in this country. As
a homosexual myself, what amazes me
about the activities of vice-squad cops is
their remarkable ability to become eroti-
cally aroused while entrapping one of us.

1 have been arrested twice in the Los
Angeles area. In both instances, the
officers were able to become tumescent.
In the second case, the oflicer began the
conversation in a public rest room while
standing at a urinal, walked over to me
exposed and erect; and when 1 cautious-
ly refused to make physi contact with
him, he offered to meet me outside for
an alleged drive to my home. As you
might have expected (but I didn't), the
tip turned out to bc w the nearest
station house.

What sort of men are th who make
these arrests? Need I remind your so-
phisticated readers of Freud's discovery
that those who enjoy persecuting homo-
sexuals are persons fighting their own
subconscious impulse

(Name withheld by request)
„ California

Pasadi

DETECTING DEVIATES

1 was amused by the homosexual sol
dier who was convinced that nobody
could recognize him as a deviate (The
Playboy Forum, June). This strange self
delusion—"1 don't act queer; nobody
сап spot me"—is shared by 99 percent
of all homosexuals in America. This

is the first of their three outstanding
charaaeristics. Their inordinate vanity
(whi aled only by that of the
average midget) is the second. The third
is that, contrary to their neurotic fanta-
sies, every one of them is as ellem

(continued on page 184)

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samo www. SOHN V. LINDSAY

a candid conversation with the crusading mayor of new york city

During his campaign [or mayor of
New York їп the spring of 1965, John
Vliet Lindsay often told audiences how
he had boarded a New York-bound train
in Washington and found himself in a
car full of grim, unsmiling men with
arms folded across their chests. “Who
are they?” he asked the conductor.
“They've patients going to an insane asy-
lum," came the answer. “And where ате
you going?” "To New York to run for
mayor,” said the candidate. “Then,” re-
plied the conductor, "you stay right
here.” In the opinion of most political
observers at the time, the conductor had
a point. As far as they were concerned,
the idealistic, Yale-educated young Con-
gressman seemed to be courting almost
certain defeat in pursuing a job that had
won а richly deserved reputation as а
graveyard for rising political hopefuls.
As a Republican, he also had to face the
fact that New York had not elected a
member of his party since Fiorello La
Guardia in the Thirties.

And by 1965, the problems of this
“ungovernable” metropolis had so prolif-
erated that the 4 insoluble. The
urbane and elegant city of Cole Porter
and Scott Fitzgerald had become, for
many, а national symbol of urban drift
and decay. Increasingly, it was a place.
for the very rich and the very poor, Ils
crime rale was spiraling upward; its air
and water had been polluted by decades
of industrial wastes. The blight of the
slums had spread over all the boroughs
and filled the pockets of profiteering

landlords and corrupt bureaucrats, And
the city was also deeply in debt; interest
payments alone amounted to $1,100,000
daily.

Contrary to expectations, Lindsay de-
cided to meet the decline of New York
head on. An activist and а pragmatist
with an almost sensual joy in tackling
and solving problems, he attacked the
entrenched Democratic machine with
fiery sincerity. In synagogues and tene-
ments, between blintzes and knishes, he
promised to make “our city great again,
the Empire City of the world." At first,
the hacks of the regular Democratic or-
ganizalion—and their affably colorless
candidate, Abe Beame—refused to take
Lindsay seriously. He seemed to them a
ludicrous anomaly: a Park Avenue Epis-
copalian, an Ivy Leaguer in a city accus-
tomed to the ways of homespun Irish,
Malian and Jewish politicians. Lindsay's
shining idealism, his moviestar looks
and his almost reformist zeal
marked him as an amateur, according to
the tough codebook of Tammany poli-
Undaunted, Lindsay patched to-
gether an unlikely alliance of supporters
from соску ethnic group and political
persuasion, and launched a horde of
youthful volunteer the
streets, The candidate joined them—dis-
playing an athletic vigor that was sorely
tested by six months of strenuous cam-
paigning. In the early hours of Election
Day. he was still searching for votes—
walking the deseried streets, visiling a
Harlem theater and answering questions

naive

tics,

workers into

from a Negro radio audience.

It all. paid off with a stunning upset,
and a triumph. for moderate Republi-
canism—within months of the Johnson
landslide—as Lindsay outpolled Beame
decisively in a balloting patiern that criss
crossed party lines, religious blocs and
ethnic allegiances all over the city. In
the wake of what G.O.P. National
Chairman Ray Bliss called “the victory of
the decade,” commentators were already
sizing up Lindsay as a Presidential pros-
pect in 1968 or 1972. As one New York
politician said: “Wait till Lindsay and
Kennedy hit. It has to happen.

Lindsay's past provides few clues to
the compelling passion for politics that
has carried him so far. His father, George
Lindsay, was the son of a Scotch-
Irish brickmaker, and a self-made
man who rose (o become vice-president
of а Wall Strect investment banking
house. His mother, Eleanor Vliet Lind-
say, was a promising young actress who
abandoned her career to raise a family.
John and his twin brother, David, were
born on November 24, 1921, in a modest
West Side Manhattan apartmeni—but
the Lindsay? style of living soon im-
proved; by 1962, at his death, George
Lindsay was worth over $700,000. John
went to Manhattan’s exclusive Buckley
School, then to St. Paul’s—where he
played football and was elected presi-
dent of his class—and finally entered
Yale as World War Two ap-
proaching.

Impatient to move on, he was graduated

was

“There are those who say that the prob-
lem of our cities must wait until the war
in Vietnam is resolved. But these prob-
lems won't wait, and by any reasonable
set of values, they shouldn't have to wait.”

“I try to call the various city departments
at unexpecied moments. The first time T
phoned the police department. for news
late at night, they thought 1 was a drunk.
They've since learned to know better.”

“It wasn't a wise decision to expel Adam
Clayton Powell. The committee's discipli-
nary proposals exceeded anything handed
down before—even in the case of Sena-
tor McCarthy. 1 think it was a blunder.”

83

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in 1943 with a degree in history after only
31 months, and immediately plunged
into the War; three years later, he
emerged with a naval lieutenant’s stripes
and five battle stars. In his first civilian
Job, he worked as a bank clerk—until
he nearly set his desk afire trying 10
hide a cigarette from ап approaching
senior partner. Lindsay next enrolled in
the Yale Law School, where his interest
in politics first began to develop, After
three years, а Manhattan firm hired him
at a princely $3600 a year—but the
bright young comer was soon named a
[ull partner. A brilliant. trial lawyer,
Lindsay was commended for his shill by
Justice Frankfurter after arguing a case
before the Supreme Court.

In 1958, after a short stint in the At-
lomey General's office. Lindsay decided
to етет the political arena in carnest—a
decision thoughtfully described im his
forthcoming book, “Journey into Poli-
ics.” Already president of New York's
influential Young Republicans Club, he
entered the party's Congressional primary
Jor New York's affluent “Silk Stocking"
district—the 17th—and won, despite the
opposition of local G. O.P. leaders; he
then edged his Democratic opponent by
7800 votes. Іп Congress, Lindsay soon
won a reputation for stubborn independ-
ence and fierce concern for civil liberties.
When Charles Halleck, G.O.P. minority
leader al the time, asked Lindsay why he
so steadfastly opposed legislation de-
signed to combat pornography and. com-
munism, the young Congressman replied
that those were the major industries in his
district, and if they went, “the 17th
would be a depressed area.” Such out-
spoken liberalism soon alienated Lindsay
from the G.O.P. leadership—but not
from the voters, who returned him to
Washington with 59.8 percent of the
ballots in 1960, 68.7 percent in 1962 and
715 percent in 1964.

Since becoming New York's mayor,
Lindsay has been constantly embatiled.
А transit strike only hours after his inau-
guration was followed by a fare hike.
Faced with an empty exchequer, he was
forced to impose a new city income tax.
Today, thanks in part to still more
strikes, the streets are still dirty, the
ghetto is still scabrous and the inevitable
letdown from the high hopes built up by
а fresh face has taken its toll on the may-
ors popularity. Predictably, Lindsay has
alo drawn criticism. for his aggressive
impetuosity and his disdain for tradi-
tional political practices. Аз one aide ve-
calls, “We were foolish enough to think
that if we van fast enough, we could get
everything done in six weeks.” А prom-
ment clergyman sighed: “He tends to
divide rather than unite.” And а dis
illusioned journalist. added: “Lindsay's
an intellectual lightweight.”

Still, for all the brickbats, there is a
growing belief in New York that Lindsay
just may manage to make the Empire

City more livable. He terms his adminis-
tration a “wild show" and puts into prac-
lice his doctrine of “visible government"
by prowling the streets day and. night,
appearing at the scene of fires and
crimes as well as at banquets and theater
openings; by presiding over strect-corner
discussions in the slums as well as at
benefit balls and art galleries. Above all,
he has been able to communicate to the
electorate an infectious joie de vivre—
whether capering on a Manhattan bridge
with а film crew to encourage movie pro-
duction in the city or playing touch foot-
ball in Central Park.

In the midst of the taxing task of run-
ning New York City, Lindsay agreed to
grant PLAYBOY an exclusive interview.
The many conversations that followed —
with interviewer Hunter Lewis—were
squeezed into a succession of arduous
workdays that began at seven each morn-
ing and ended around midnight at City
Hall. “On each occasion,” Lewis reports,
“Lindsay was elegantly attired in blue
suit, silk handkerchief, long-point. bul-
tondown shirt and black wing-lip loafers.
He began cach meeting by stretching his
long six-foot. four-inch frame and run-
ning a hand through his tousled һай;
he then fixed his brilliant blue eyes on
mine and invited me to fire the first
question. Speaking in cool, clipped ac
cents, he rarely changed expression in
the course о] our conversations. Only
occasionally, when discussing his love of
the theater ov the pleasure of living in
New York, did he abandon his rigid
self-control. The mayor has learned from
long experience in politics to regard the
press as а friendly adversary. And he is
а polished and practiced. performer—
whether quietly emphasizing а point,
deftly turning aside a probing question
or sincerely expounding on the desperate
problems of the cities in the Sixties.”

PLAYBOY: How do you account for your
election as mayor in a city where there
аге over three times as many registered

І wish you hadn't sprung that
опе on me this carly in the morning. I'd
simply say the people decided that
they'd take a chance on a change. They
wanted a change from top to bottom, so
they voted for me.

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the
charge that you ran for mayor only be-
cause New York G. O. P. luminaries such
as Senator Jacob | ind Governor
Rockefeller had blocked any other
avenues of advancement open to you?

speculation on the part of a lor of
people. The fact of the matter is that
are no blockades in this busi
you're determined enough
for the changes of time and history
for mayor because I just felt the job
had to be done, In good conscience,
I couldn't refuse the support that ap-
red to be growing for it. Id been

talking about the city and the needs of
the city for a long time, both as a mem-
ber of the Congress and as a member of
the community, and my wife, Mary, and
I decided that I couldn't be in public life
and tum my back on it. 1 never would
have been happy if 1 had.
PLAYBOY: Still, with your Congressional
experience and interest. in national
lans, wouldn't you have preferred to
serve as Senator or governor, if the
opportunity had presented itself?
LINDSAY: No. I don't care how many
other political avenues might have
opencd. I'm sure this statement will be
challenged by many; but суеп if other
political avenues had been open at the
time, 1 believe I still would have run
for mayor. It was strictly a matter of
personal conscience.
PLAYBOY: During the campaign. many
people wondered at President Johnson
faint and grudging endorsement of
your Democratic opponent, Abe Beame.
What's your reaction to the report that
L. B. J. favored your election over Beame
on the grounds that you would better
counterbalance Robert Kennedy’s power
in New York?
LINDSAY: 1 don’t really think you G
analyze the quiet recesses of any p
son's mind. A very wise friend of mine
once told me that in the business of poli-
ig. it’s better to judge on the
се tivation.
Belore we talk about your per
formance, let’s discuss your image. М
people I
between yourself
Kennedy: the
looks, the win

nd the late Pre:
athletic vigor, the good
ing smile, the common
xy, fashionable Eas
private schools—even the use of a "Let's
get things moving” political theme. Do
you see yourself as a Kennedyesque
figure?

LINDSAY: No, definitely not.

PLAYBOY: Arc you annoyed by the com-
parison of yourself with Kennedy?
LINDSAY: Not in the slightest.
PLAYBOY: Did he influence your poli
style?

LINDSAY: 1 certainly an admirer of
the Jate President, but I have consistent-
ly approached politics in much the
manner that I approached my previous
work as а trial lawyer. E think 1 have my
own individual style.

PLAYBOY: Commentators have noted that,
like Kennedy, you have the kind of
that might have been the ba
carcer in the theater. Unlike the late
you seem to have pursued t
possibility by appearing Off Broad
n John Brown's Body and in a tele-
vision spot on The Farmer's Daughter.
Did you ever seriously consider an act
ing career?

LINDSAY: Not really.

PLAYBOY: How did you first
interested. їп acting?

LINDSAY: It's a personal devotion of

become

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mine. I'm sure some of it was in
My mother was on the stage,

1911, she was quite an iced. person
for her time. She went on the road in bit
parts until she met my father, got mar-
tied and immediately started having
children—five of them. That put an end
to acting. But she never lost her love for
‚ and I can remember that during my
school days she never had a broader grin
on her face than when one of my broth-
or I had a part in a school play. I'm
sure some of that was passed along to me.
PLAYBOY; What made you decide against
acting as a career?

LINDSAY: I like acting; I'm a buff. But I
also understand the terrible hazards and
hardships of the theater. It's one of the
toughest professions the world, with-
out any doubt at all. I don't u
would have been successful i
don't have that much talent.

PLAYBOY: Some of the critics disagree.
The New York Times
praised a reading you did of Cop
Lincoln Portrait at Philharmonic Hall.
In view of recent elections in California,
do you feel that а show-business bac
ground is becoming a valuable asset in
politics?

LINDSAY: Not at all.

PLAYBOY: Then what do you make of the
Ronald Reagan-George Murphy phe-
nomenon? In terms of projecting an at-
ive public personality, hasn't their
success as politicians been due in large
part to their movie fame and acing
experience?

LINDSAY: It's hard to tell. They do seem.
to win elections. Of course, any person
in public life is required to speak. The
whole art of polities is communication,
and to the extent that Reagan and Mu
phy had training in delivery and. plat-
form speaking, I'm sure it was helpful to
them.

PLAYBOY: With so many outside interests,
and with some inherited income from
your father. you might have been ex-
pected to shun the infighting of politics.
What led you to run for office? Did your
family encourage you in this direction?
LINDSAY: No, they didn't. 1 simply felt an
urge. a desire to do more than lead my
lile in a private circle. That was the
1 reason. I went down to Washington
as executive assistant to the then-
Attorney General of the U.S. [Herba
Brownell]. After I had dealt with matte
that affected the country and had argued
cases before the Supreme Court that
affected the future of government, I was
infected.

PLAYBOY: Some of your friends have said
that your interest in politics expresses an
activist’s desire to be where the decisions
are made. One of them, quoted in Life,
remarked: "He has a great appetite for
command. He wants to be governor. He
wants to be President.” Is the quote
correct?

UNDSAY: I think that's a very flattering
statement. I don't know exactly who said
it, but that’s a very genero:
PLAYBOY: In Congress, you were
as а loner, and some observers feel that
this reputation hampered your effective-
ness as a legislator. How do you account
for your poor relations with the G. O. P.
leadership in the House?

UNDSAY: At times I was a loner, but I
don't think it seriously hampered my
effectiveness. And my personal relatio:

ship with the С.О. Р, leadership was
hne; we understood. cach other.

PLAYBOY: Then why did you once tell a
Newsweek writer that “the Repu
leadership i

licam
the Congress and I were at

greed
sure that once in a
while this prejudiced their feci
ward me. But I don't think 1 w
those who w:

one of
his effec
ed. I just tried to be
constructive—particularly in matters in
which I hi And occa-
sionally I influenced the thinking of the
leadership and affected the behavior of
the minority side.

PLAYBOY: Throughout your career, you
have conveyed the image of a young
man struggling against older politicians,
whether in the House or in city govern-
ment. Perhaps as a result, young people
tend 10 sympathize and identify with
you—as was demonstrated by the large
number of youthful volunteers you at-
пасей in your campaign for
How do you feel about youth toda
you agree with those who H
young people have become too
and mil
UNDSAY: No. І think young people are
doing fine. They're mo
they're being heard from; they're
ing themselves. I'm delighted when col-
lege and high school students in New
York involve themselves in community
problems. Young people are a swinging
lot. They ought to be encouraged,
because theyre what this town needs
theyie what this country needs, Lets
face it, the average age of the populat
is getting younger cach year. As а n
tion, we're becoming more youthful
and that's all to the good.
PLAYBOY: Docs your approval of mil
youth extend to such student activists
Mario Savio of the Free Speech Mov
ment at Berkeley and the young radicals
of the Students for a Democratic Society?
UNDSAY: I hope the thrust of what they
do isn't just negative, isn't just down
with this, down with that. Protest should
be combined with constructive action.
And it usually is.

PLAYBOY: What success have you had
attracting talented young personnel to
help you in running New York City?
LINDSAY: Enough to make our young
people the buu of quite a few jokes.
When I first took office, the press teased

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PLAYBOY

88

us about “the boy scouts at City Hall,”
because of our youth. The team I've
picked is a young group—and that's
good; this is a young city. There's a lot
of changing to be done, a lot of growing.
and we need young people to hasten the
proces. The young aren't as jaded
pessimistic as their elders; they believe
we can make this a better city. And
they're smart enough to do it, I think.
PLAYBOY: Let's discuss your job as mayor.
Before the 1965 election, you were
experienced in municipal politics. Has
this turned out to be an advantage or
a disadvantage?

LINDSAY: Both. I've had to put consider-
able time into becoming thoroughly fa-
miliar with the depths and intricacies of
the system as it is, You can't change th
system unless you know exactly what
you're dealing with. In this respect, my
inexperience was а disadvantage. The
advantage lies in the fact that T have had
no preconceptions about change. Some-
times I’m sure I've waded in where only
fools go and angels fear, but that’s an
advantage, because things have to be
shaken up constantly, questions asked,
even at the risk of stumbling in the proc-
es. It needs doing in a bureaucracy of
this kind.

PLAYBOY: During the campaign, you con-
issed the old ага that
New York is ungovernable. Do you s
feel that way?

Yes, 1 do.

Yet, since your guration,
New York has been beset by one crisis
after another, from the transit strike to
the budget controversy. Seemingly, even
your hard work and enthusiasm have
failed to bring dramatic change thus far.
Why?

LINDSAY: Actually, there have been some
dramatic changes. The first thing we did
to save the city from bankruptcy.
The employees of the city were not
going to be paid. The previous adminis-
tration had left the city broke, ha
galloping deficit. But in the first months,
we restored the cash. position of the ci
bolstered its reserves, reorganized its
хез. We got rid of the gross receipt tax,
h everyone had been urging for
years. And we imposed a тері
upon the area around New York
people would have thought that
Ме in an election year, after only
months in office. It took the Kennedy
Administration two years to draft, much
less win, legislative approval Гога nation-
wide zation that wasn't as
compli as the one we worked
out for the city. We're in the midst of
a reorganization and reshaping of the
whole city government. We're getting
performance out of the police depart-
ment and orher service departments that
prompt and superior. In addition, for
the first time, there is strong support i
neighborhoods around the city for better
municipal government; whereas before,

there was apathy, resentment, fatalism.
and a kind of gloom. That's all changed.
People are beginning to use the ps
gain. We've had neighborhood drives
to clean up the city. We've improved the
dimate for business. A new Public De-
velopment Corporation has been created,
with special powers to attract new indus-
try, new talent, new sciences to New
York. We also have reorganized the fin
Gal affairs of the city. We've inaugurated
innovative budgeting оре

we've established a wholly new admin
tion on finance. We've also estab-
shed a new admin
resources th igned 10 consolidate
the Welfare Department, Youth Board,
Department of Labor and all ancillary
institutions. And were establishing a
general services administration to incor-
porate the housckceping work of the
ity: purchase, sales and sanitation, In
short, we're reorganizing approximately

50 agencies and bureaus and regrouping
them into about ten central adminis

t you concerned that this
may further remove the

LINDSAY: Not at all. At the

ame time,
мете decent ig the major service
agencies that deal with the problems of
health, poverty and slum clearance.
These agencies have an immed
pact on individual neighborhoods, so we
want them to operate out of neighbor-
hood centers.

PLAYBOY: Has the reorganization raised
or lowered municipal expense?
LINDSAY: Over the past year, the city has
saved more than $100.000.000 by elimi-
nating dozens of boards, committees and
agencies that either served по demon-
strably useful purpose or could be ab-
sorbed by other governmental units. At
the same time, we've saved money and
improved services by bringing modern
research techniques to bear on the some-
times rigid and musty routines of gov-
ernment. So I think you could say that
there have been some dramat
during thi

as all the responsibility but none
of the power in New York. Do you have
enough authority to carry out all these
programs you've ini
LINDSAY: I'd like to have more. As a mat-
ter of political science, Ym not sure how
much more I should have; but without
more executive power, 1 can't move
things along as quickly as I would like.
Some of these areas that have been sepa-
rated from the mayor's office have to be
re-examined.

PLAYBOY: Would you
them?

UNDSAY: For example, the Board of
Education and the empire that is under-
neath it. This whole monolithic appara-
tus of municipal education has to be

name some of

made more respo: to commu
needs and wants by decentralizing
forms. Surely, the mayor ought to
able to help guide that along. Under the
present system, however, the mayor can't
do much. He can dent the problems, but
not much more.

PLAYBOY: Isn't there some intrinsic value
n maintaining the freedom of the educa-
system from ро influence?
James E. Allen the State Education
Commissioner, has said, "It is essential
that educational planning be assigned to

the Board of Education, not to the
mayor, if we are to avoid the danger

of decisions being made on a political
rather than on an educational basis.”
LINDSAY: | don't agree. New York's
school system serves à social as well as
an educational function. The schools
contain more than 87,000 students who
don't speak English and more th
95,000 pupils who are mentally retarded,
physically handicapped or emotionally
disturbed. We have other big-city prob-
Jems, such as truancy and delinquency,
are better cured in the dassroom
than in a jail cell. In any case, politics
id education are already intertwined in
New York. In building a public educa-
tional system so strong that it can attract
the very best students, while at the same
time it assists the necdy, the city's flexi-
bility is scverely compromised. by state
restraints—such as the general constitu-
tional limitation on the power of the
localities to set real-estate taxes and
to borrow for educational. purposcs.
PLAYBOY: How do you propose to increase
the mayors authority in these areas?
LINDSAY: That depends. For the moment.
we're trying to reorganize the city govern-
ment with what executive power we
have. But in due course, some aspects
of this reorganization will require
legislation.

PLAYBOY: Throughout most of the cou
ty—despite all of the progress you've
mentioned—New York City со: псу to
have а reputation for being a nice place
to visit but a terrible place to live for all
but the very rich. How do you answer
the common complaints that New York
s dirty, overaowded, expensive, pollut-
ed, crime-ridden and often incapacitated
by strikes?

LINDSAY: You have to live
to understand its strength,
wonderful power. Then try to move
away and see how unhappy you are;
youll come back to New York in the
end. Sure, w York is a dilficult town
in which to live, but that's compensated
for by what it gives you. In this town,
there is everything necessary to satisfy any
person's highest dreams and ambitions—
whether in business, finance, the arts or
science. There are creativity, variety, wide
ations even anonymity available
to those who seck it. Of course, onc has
to make an cffort in New York to live
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PLAYBOY

90

that's all to the good. It's healthy to have
some tension in the air. I have watched
institutions and groups of people who
were once productive leave the city for
other parts to avoid the tension and
strain and busy pace—and I've seen them
deteriorate and become unproductive.
PLAYBOY: But what about the specific
complaints we mentioned? New York's
ing crime rate, for instance, Haven't
the strained relations between the Lind-
say administration and the police de-
partment—caused by your unsuccessful
opposition to a well-financed pol
paign against the creation of a civil
review board—made the problem of
lequate law enforcement even more
difficult?
LINDSAY: Actually, we're getting better
performance from the police. We h
developed fast-moving tactical units that.
have proved extremely helpful in crime
prevention. We're working on an im-
proved police communications system.
And we'te modernizing the police acad-
emy.
PLAYBOY: Recently, both New York's po-
lice and firemen threatened to resort to
picket lines in order to realize their wage
demands. And your administration came
to being in the middle of a mass
transit strike that immobilized the entire
city. Have you been able to find any alter-
native to the chronic pattern of crippling
public strikes and labor threats?
LINDSAY: As most corporations do, we
have our share of labor troubles. In an
effort to eliminate the cliff-hanger settle-
ment of contract disputes in the past, we
have proposed—and the City Council
now is considering—the creation of an
Office of Collective Bargaining. Its pur-
pose is to lay out procedures whereby
contracts сап be negotiated to a conclu-
sion well before the eleventh-hour-crisis
atmosphere that has pervaded talks in the
past. The new office will not mean the
end of strikes; but I'm convinced that if
t's endorsed by the City Council, it will
make many strikes unnecessary.
PLAYBOY: You were confronted with an-
other problem of crisis dimensions last
year, when an unprecedented blanket of
polluted air settled over the city for
three days. The Federal Government has
shown consistent interest in pollution
control ever since the original Air Pollu-
tion Control Act of 1955; but many city
governments—particularly, New York's
—scem to have lagged behind. Why?
uNDsAY: I don't think we have. My
administration has kled this critical
problem on many fronts. First, the City
Council has passed, and I have signed, а
local law placing the strictest controls
ever imposed by an American city on
private incincrators. The 17,000 inci
tors now operating in New York,
of them in apartment houses, spew some
10,000 tons of soot into the air each
year. Under the new regulation, no in-
cinerators will be allowed in buildings

era-

constructed here after May of 1968.
Building owners will be required to com-
press their garbage and trash in compact-
ing devices, so that these may be hauled
to city incinerators ог land-fll disposa
ites. Аг the same time, we banned open
pit burning of trash or other wastes
within the city limits.

PLAYBOY: The power facilities of Con-
solidawd Edison are responsible for
almost half of the dangerous sulphur
dioxide pumped into New York City's at-
mosphere. Have you been able to impose
any legal restrictions to cut down this
pollution?

UNDSAY: Last May, Con Ed agreed to
present a plan for constructing genera
ing units outside the city that would еп
able the dismantling of older generating
facilities here. The company is also in-
stalling electrostatic precipitators on the
stacks of its Ravenswood generating.
plant, at a cost of about $30,000,000;
these devices will eliminate most of the
smoke and soot. Finally, the company
has pledged, in the next ten years, to
reduce by more than half its burning
of coal and oil. In addition, we've
suggested to Con Ed that it immedi-
ately reduce its monthly sulphur-dioxide
emissions from 23,000 to 16,000 tons
during the winter months. This can be
done by climinating certain particularly
poisonous fuel oils,

PLAYBOY: What are you doing about city
incinerators?

LINDSAY: We're moving toward a major

reduction of the fly ash produced by
our municipally operated incinerators
with a pilot project under which we will
test electrostatic precipitators for mini

mizing smoke and soot. The project is
being financed with a $218,000 grant
from the Federal Public Health Service,
the first such award to any city for a
demonstration project of this nature.
PLAYBOY: How do you expect to enforce
compliance with these antipollution
measurcs?

LINDSAY: It won't be саву. But we're
expanding our airquality surveillance
system by establis
tions throughout the city. We also intend

next year, the city’s financial condi
tion permitting, to increase our field-
inspection staff from 27 to 94.

PLAYBOY: These are all stopgap measures,
Are there any fundamental solutions in

sight?
LINDSAY: We haven't forgotten the need
for long-range research, We're completing

negotiations with Columbia University’s
School of Public Health and Adminis
шайхе Medicine for the establish-
ment of an Institute of Air Pollution
Control Research. The Institute will su-
pervise studies of the medical and bio-
logical effects of айг pollution. Cooper
Union has agreed to set up an environ-
mental engineering center to bring the
physical sciences to bear on the air-
pollution problem. And New York

University is undertaking programs cal-
culated to establish modern. standards
nd iteria for airpollution control
ctivities. We're also seeking closer re-
gional cooperation in attacking the com-
mon menace of polluted air. To this end,
I plan to recommend an area-wide con-
ference on air pollution, 1 shall suggest
that the Governors Hughes of New
Jersey, Dempsey of Connecticut and
Rockefeller of New York be invited to
participate, along with interested chief
executives of local jurisdictions through
out the metropolitan region. Together,
we may be able to work out a concerted
campaign against all of the clements—
not just а few components—of the area's
atmospheric problems. New York City
incinerators, Connecticut automobiles
and New Jersey industry are interrelated
contributors to air pollution: they must
be dealt with together in working out
solutions.

PLAYBOY: Let's turn to another urban
problem. In your inaugural speech, you
said: "Let those who compile riches
from the misery of slums hear this mes-
sage as their eviction notice: There wil
be no compromise with the profiteers
of poverty.” What has your administr:
tion accomplished in the area of slum
clearance?
LINDSAY: Whe:
task force that
housing and planning experts in the
country. Those experts have called for the
most sweeping reorganization of a mu
nicipal housing structure ever attempted
It takes the present assemblage of hous-
ing agencies and departments—now
loosely connected and often overlapping
—and consolidates them into a strong,
central Housing and Development Ad-
ministration. This means that the sep:
rate staffs of architects, engineers and
other specialists are being brought to-
gether. The four agencies conducting
slum rehabilitation programs are being
merged, and so are the tenant-rclocition
efforts of the Housing and Redevelop-
ment Board and the Department of
Relocation. We have also decided ta con-
centrate all our urban-renewal resources
п the ghetto communities. This is a
marked departure from the past. Up to
this time, there has been scattershot urban
renewal, most of it in the white com-
munities of New York, and less than 20
percent of it focused in Harlem, South
Bronx, Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brownsville
and the eastern New York districts of
Brooklyn. We are changing this complete-
ly for the immediate future. In addition,
we have а comprehensive legislative pack-
age for housing that may enable us to
achieve a doubling of our production of
low-income housing.

PLAYBOY: Will cven a doubling be
sufficient? One hundred and thirty-five
thousand New York families are on the
waiting list for public housing. What
about the years of delay before an urban-

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PLAYEOY

94

ted, and the

renewal project can get sta
tangle of regulations delay’
ment of the housing code?
UNDSAY: These are all terrible problems.
Bur my legislative package represents a
real start toward their solution,
PLAYBOY: What does the package provide?
LINDSAY: Firstly, it recommends the early
acquisition of land in renewal areas. Up
to now, па for urban renewal could
be acquired only after a formal and de-
tailed plan had been prepared for the
te and approved by the Federal Gov-
ernment. This involved four years of
needless, heartless delay. We want to
allow the city to acquire land under
limited circumstances while planning
continues. Secondly, we propose to give
private indusuy a chance to try its hand
at the construction of public housing. Not
long ago, a private builder in Washing-
turned over to the city’s housing au-
thority the key to a new 313-unit. public
housing project. It was estimated that
the private builder did the job in one
fourth the time and at $3000 per apart-
ment less than could have been done
under public authority. We have also
included a dozen legislative proposals
ned at aiding the tenants of shoddy
dwellings. These deal with the serving of
dispossess notices, the protection of ten-
ants ainst retaliation by landlords
for tenants’ having asserted their legal
rights, the deposit of rent money in court
for the purpose of repair and the rights
of the tenant to use rent money to pro-
vide utilities that the landlord has failed
to provide.

PLAYBOY: All this legislation is pending.
In the meantime, what can be done for
slum. clearance?

LINDSAY: Much can be and has been
done. Take the problem of abandoned
buildings. year, about 750 build-
ings are abandoned, most of them in slum
arcas, These cyesores, firetraps and gang
hide-outs tend to depress further already
blemished neighborhoods. The Wagner
administration was demolishing aban-
doned buildings at the rate of only 250
per year, and cach demolition required
about 15 months. My administration has
established goals of 1000 demolitions
during 1967 and 1500 for 1968 If the
present rate of demolition continues,
these goals will be met.

PLAYBOY: Have you been able to utilize
Federal programs such as the Model
Cities Act?

LINDSAY: New York City has a large
stake in the Model Cities program. I rec-
ommended $25,000,000 in my budget as
a local contribution to the Federal effort.
This makes New York the first city in the
nation to commit its own funds to the
national Administrations program for
urban renewal.

PLAYBOY: New York's most urgent target
area for urban renewal is Harlem, How
else do you plan to upgrade this blighted
area?

g enforce-

LINDSAY: In addition to applying all the
newest techniques of urban renew
we've tried to produce an effective pro-
gram for human renewal. So far, the
missing ingredient been resources
We песа money: we need pcople—to
clean up the area, to reform the laws
governing tenements, to finance new
construction,
PLAYBOY: Some social commentators have
sted that the only solution for Har-
Jem is to raze the whole place and start
again. How do you feel about it?
LINDSAY: You can't and shouldn't just
raze Harlem and build a new one. There
re great value and power and many as-
sets in Harlem; to appreciate that, you'd
have to know the Harlem community, its
many neighborhoods, its variety and its
special qualities. It would bc a great
nistake to come in with a steam shovel
nd remove n renewal has
to be accomplished sensitively and selec
tively. These great assets shouldn't be
plowed under. In the meantime, there
many things that сап be done.
PLAYBOY: Would you name some?
LINDSAY: Well, recently I was in Harlem
at the open of a new store with
Negro equity ownership. We were all
overjoyed to see this example of a
trend that is developing all over the
community: the trend toward neighbor
hood—that is to say, Negro—rather
than nonresident ownership. I sense a
growing pride in Harlem. The communi-
ty is beginning to sce what's being done
and can be donc on its own. And thc
prospeas are exciting, Of course, Ha
lem needs a great deal of outside aid as
well. It needs the resources and tools
with which to build,
PLAYBOY: Do you sce any solution to the
related. problems of unemployment. and
poor schooling in Harlem?
LINDSAY: That's the job of our new Hu-
man Resources Administration. We sce a
direct relationship between good schools
and full employment. Our philosophy is
that these areas should not be served by
institutions t totally autonomous
nd independent. That's what I meant a
while ago when I said that there must be
more responsiveness to the over-all prob-
lems of the community on the part of the
Board of Education and the apparatus
under its direction. In the future, 1
believe the Hu n Resources Adminis-
tration, which includes the Office of Edu-
cation, will respond to the needs of the
total man—whether education, jobs or
something else. You might, incidentally,
be interested in our “earn while lcarn-
hg" program, which enables young
people from low-income families to learn
a skill while simultaneously earning a
salary, thus permitting them to make a
financial contribution to their families.
PLAYBOY: You have been both praised
and criticized for your frequent appcar-
ances on the scene of trouble Harlem.
and elsewhere in the city, Some of your

сә have called these appearances
low dresing and a waste of timc.
How do you fecl about them?

LINDSAY: І feel that the mayor of a great
city must know the city and its people
and that the people should have a sense
of his presence at all times. He must be a
leader, and this means exposing himself
to the residents of the city and learning
firsthand what their problems are.
PLAYBOY: Last summer, on one occasion,
an angry Negro mob greeted your arrival
in their midst by raising you up on
their shoulders and cheering. Has this
kind of spontaneous response to your
efloris been unusual?

LINDSAY: I don't know if its unusual or
not. but I do know that I should be
there. It’s my job to be where the action
is, and that’s what L uy to do.
PLAYBOY: Your cleanup campaign in Har-
Jem has received a mount of publi-
The image of the mayor of New
York wudging through littered streets
with a broom in hand has alternately
pleased and amused many people. What
do you think is actually accomplished by
such a show? The New York Times re-
ported that one Negro teenager. watched
you toiling and objected: "What's the
Sanitation Department for?’ Don't you
sk yourself the same question?

g to take a long
time to get this city as clean as I want it
to be, and I intend to do as much as I
can by personal example. I'll pick up the
litter in the streets and пу to get other
people to do the same. ГЇЇ focus on the
problem until we get it licked. Our Sani
tation Department has to do а better
job than it’s doing. My unannounced
walks let me know what's being done, I
find that when I move around the city
by prior notice. the areas | visit have
been cleaned up. Maybe I made а
daily practice of walking through every
block im every neighborhood, this city
would finally be cleaned up. But fai
ing that, unannounced visits serve а
definite purpose. J don't tell the commis:
ners Im coming—just а few key stall
people and the police department. After
I've been through an arca, I request re-
ports from the ion Department—
the number of weekly pickups and the
schedule for sanitation trucks, After my
walk, I can see that the reports are balo
ney; the streets dirty. АШ that is
going to change.

PLAYBOY: Vice-President Humphrey
caused quite a public stir last summer
when he said that he would personally
feel justified in rioting if he lived in a
slum. Do you agree with him?

LINDSAY: I can understand why a slum.
dweller would feel that way, but rioting
is certainly not the answer. Rioting will
occur, however, unless and until a slum
community knows that the government
and the establishment of the town are
aware of their problems and аге at least
trying to do something about them. If

unpsay: No. It's рой

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PLAYBOY

96

the inhabitants of the slums don't sense
concern, then they'll take steps 10 make
“the power structure" aware of their dis-
n. But rioting accomplishes
nothing; it’s disruptive and destructive,
frightens industry and jobs away, fright-
ens middle-class people away. It's not
the answer. But one сап understand why
it occurs.

PLAYBOY: Has the concept of Black Power
affected race relations in New York?
LINDSAY: I hope it won't, but it could,
Black Power is a term that largely is un-
derstood by the community as reverse
For this reason, it’s unfortunate.
crm we ought to drop. What is
needed is neither Black Power nor white
power but citizen power.

PLAYBOY: As avowed liberal in race
relations, how do you [ecl about the
alienation of black militants from white
supporters such urself?

LINDSAY: Well, this is a trend that could
have been anticipated. If one studies his-
tory, this alienation of white moderates
should come as no surprise. This sort of
thing is always a part of peaceful revolu-
tionary change in a free country. It isn’t
even necessarily an unhealthy sign. It
usually means that there is an acute con-
sciousness of social problems—and that
something is being done about these
problems.

PLAYBOY: One of New York's most mili-
tant—and controversial—champions of
the Negro cause is Harlem’s Adam Clay-
топ Powell As a former Congressman,
how do you feel about his censure by the
House of Representatives?

LINDSAY: It was not a wise decision to
expel Powell. The deliberations of the
Caller select. committee were and
just, and its disciplinary proposals ex-
ceeded anything handed down before—
even in the case of Senator McCarthy.
The Congress should not have reacted as
rashly a did. I think it was a blunder.
PLAYBOY: As ап ex-lawver, do you believe
the House had the right to take the
ction it did?

LINDSAY: 1 couldn't really say. Thats a
matter for the Supreme Court to decide.
PLAYBOY: Do you think Powell has effec-
tively represented the people of Harlem?
LINDSAY. Well, the district certainly
wants him. He's been clected and re-
elected by large majorities. Of course,
Powell's style is not ту style, and I don't
approve of all he’s done. But if Powell
has breached the rules and standards of
the Congress he should be disciplined,
not expelled.

PLAYBOY: Another of New York's most
serious problems—particularly in Har-
lem—is overpopulation. Do you expect
that New York City will eventually reach
a saturation point in numbers of resi-
dents?

LINDSAY: No, It's not a well-known fact,
but the population of the city is no long.
er growing. More importantly, we have
finally achieved a stable racial mix. Our

rate of racial change was very rapid for a
while, but no longer. In the meantime,
you'll notice that suburban communities
are changing very rapidly, indeed—in
terms of both population growth and
cial composition. So are smaller towns.
So, if one is seeking stability, one should
look to the big cities these days. New
York, in particular, is relatively free from
the violent transformation of a great
many towns, smaller cities and suburbs.
PLAYEOY: Recent experiments with mice
and monkeys have shown that animals
develop serious neuroses when too many
are forced to live in а limited area. Do
you think this effect may account in part
for the high crime rate and racial tension.
in overcrowded big-city ghettos?

LINDSAY: You referring to the “This is
my turf, and we want all strangers to
stay off of my tuf” mentality. This has
always been a problem. The “turf men-
lity is a sociological phenomenon that
xists everywhere; but it may be worse
in cities—though I'm not sure how much.
of this is due to overcrowding. Some-
times, as a matter of fact, the crowding
together of peoples in citics—provided
they have decent places to live, of course

п have a civilizing influence on

them; over a long period of time, this has
and

resulted іп gradual assimilation.
elimination of the turf psychology
times big cities are not so dange:
this respect as less crowded. areas—par-
icularly suburban communitie
small towns that are changi
There the changes contribute more to
the turf problem and create more tension
than would overcrowding in a big city.
PLAYBOY. If New York is emerging from
a period of rapid x nd demographic
change, will this contribute to better
n agement of welfare and other public-
service programs?

LINDSAY: Over the long run, yes. In the
meantime, we've worked out innova-
tional short-term plans that should con-
tribute to better welfare service. One
program, for example, is designed to
mect the mounting cxpense of providing
welfare assistance to 400,000 mothers
and children by finding employment for
the mothers. We believe many of them
can qualify as nurse's
casework trainees or supervisors of day-
care centers, This system, I think, will go
far toward instilling the independence
and self-respect that have been mi
from welfare programs in the past. I
might note, also, that the city has ob-
tained permission from the State Board
of Social Welfare to allow Welfare De-
partment caseworkers to advise mothers
that information on family planning is
lable to them. Until last December's
ruling, caseworkers were forbidden to
volunteer any information on the sub-
jea. The result was that many mothers
receiving welfare axe had no
knowledge that births could be con-
trolled.

assi

PLAYBOY: In many ghetto areas, drug ad-
diction is almost as serious a problem as
unemployment, What has your admini:
tation done about
ade major strides here,
too. We've opened up a radical new pro-
gram of neighborhood antinarcotics w
е. I have attracted to New York an
extremely ative and capable doctor
named Ramirez, who achieved mira-
cles in San Juan, Puerto Rico, in combat-
ing drug addiction. And he's genuinely
aught fire in the neighborhoods. Under
his leadership, we're beginning to estab-
lish what nounts tO storefront anti
narcotics treatment centers, and we've
coupled this approach with experimental
methods such as the Methodon Treat-
ment for hard-core, deeply troubled ad-
[The Methodon Treatment is a
program of chemotherapy involving the
administration of a narcoticlike but rela-
tively harmless drug calculated to phase
1 addict gradually out of the heroin
bit] In the meantime, were using
Federal and state money to extend the
Ramirez program throughout the entire
city, Part of the program's effectiveness
lies in the staffing of the neighborhood
anti-addiction centers with ex-addicts.
For the first time in the history of the
city, we've hired ex-addicts in key jobs.
1 think this is going to make a difference.
Were going to have results
PLAYBOY: As you sated carlier, the city
faced bankruptcy last ycar—a situation
that you saved by cconomics, increased
е aid and passage of new commut
Yet a new budget cri
How did this

lt was inevitable. The 1966
program provided only half the taxing
authority the city requested. The re-
ccipts from the city income and са
taxes for this fiscal year will bring in less
than $160,000,000—not even enough to
nce next year’s operation of the Fire
Departmen. The entire program will
not, in a у imc, produce as much as
the $256,000,000 borrowed by the pr
vious administration in 1965 to finance
routine operating expenses. It is this ad
ministration’s inherited obligation to re-
pay that loan at the rate of $50,000,000
a year, plus an average of $6,000,000 in
interest. The city's budge
prognosis is made суеп gloomier by legal-
aed rising costs that we c
not escape. The principal increases are
pledged to schools, debt service, wellare,
wage increases and broadened fringe
benefits imposed by law or by ordinary
collective-bargaining agreements. Less
than one filth ol the prospective gap can
be ascribed to outlays that are in any
sense optional. So the projected crisis for
1967 comes as no surprise to me.
PLAYBOY: How can you avoid a succession
of worsening economic crises cach у
as long as expenses continue to rise?
UNDSAY: By further belt tightening,

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98

toughness, econor reorganizations
and reforms, by lopping off a function
here and there, At the same time, we
will have to work for greater contribu-
tions from the state and the Federal
governments. The cities deserve more
money and they have to get it.
PLAYBOY: Do you feel that President
Johnson's call this year’s State of the
Jnion address for new partnerships bc-
tween the Federal Government and the
cities of America will have much mean-
ing in terms of concrete assistance?
UNDSAY: I hope so. It won't be clear un-
the specifics of the President’s budget
are before the Congress. T agree with the
President's emphasis on the important
beginnings that have been made Te-
cent years in dealing with the problems
of our cities. I hope we will now move
beyond these beginnings to programs as
big as our problems, and not just token
efforts or reshufflings of what has been
started. Certainly the President's call for
reorganization of local government is
welcome, coming it does at a time
when my own administration has already
developed a broader reorganization than
has ever been attempted in any Ameri-
can city.
PLAYBOY: During the mayoral campaign,
you bitterly criticized Mayor Wagner for
losing $15,000,000 in Federal funds for
the city by filing the necessary papers
"ioo late. A few months later, under your
own administration, the Federal Govern-
ment announced that New York would
be denied $10,000,000 in poverty funds
because the proper machinery was not
жї up in time. What happened?
LINDSAY: Any problems we had in the
poverty arca last year in New York City
government were the result of a chaotic
machinery that we inherited. The confu-
sion, the overlapping and duplication
that were present in the three antipoverty
bodies that existed when we came into
power were beyond mortal comprehen-
sion. We had to deal with the problem of
setting that house in order while at the
same time developing and executing pro-
grams to help the city's poor. Under
these circumstances, it’s a miracle that
anything was accomplished at all, and I
think we can point with pride to the
excellence of our antipoverty programs
during the summer of 1966. We had a
cool summer in New York, all predic-
ns to the contrary, and the poverty
program was a key factor.
PLAYBOY: The belicf is widespread that

bles stems from general economic decline.
The decision of companies such as Pepsi
Gola to move from Manhattan to the
suburbs reinforces this impression. What

can be done to revitalize the city's
economy?
UNDSAY: Actually, business іп New York

in vibrantly good health. Virtually all
sectors of the city’s busines life have

registered gains during this year, with
employment increasing and unemploy-
ment decreasing. The city has been
making steady gains in finance, which in-
cludes insurance and real estate, for the
past decade. And this year, through nu-
merous programs—such as low-interest,
long-term loans, zoning relief and gen-
eral promotion of manufacturing advan-
tages in the city—we managed to stem
the tide of job losses in manufacturing.
It seems to me unfair for the prophets of
gloom to lump 15 years of decline with
present conditions. It’s time they recog-
nized that the downtrend in industrial
employment in New York City has been
halted.

PLAYBOY: Apart from the crises we've dis-
cussed, what would you consider the
greatest long-term problem for New York
over the next decade?

UNDsAY: The long-range problem of
New York City—and most major U.S.
s—is to attract the resources, public
nd private, that are necessary for the
preservation and improvement of the
core city. We need the resources to tackle
the problems of sanitation and traffic; we
need urbanists and professionals who can
organize the city government, give it a
sense of style and excitement and ener-
gize the citizens it serves. We have to
establish governments that are progres
sive, in tune with the people's wishes,
staffed with the right people and struc-
tured in an effective w:
PLAYBOY: "Toward that end, The New
York Times Magazine reports, you spend
much of your working day roaming the
streets of New York in your limousine—
moving from one area to another while
you keep several telephones buzzing. Do
you really govern New York from your
limousine?

LINDSAY: Not really, but I do try to move
about—to keep in touch with the city. I
usc the limousine if there's work that can
be done there. But I also get around on
foot—or even by helicopter. And I like
taxis, because the drivers tell me what's
on their minds. I also occasionally take
the subway, so that I can find some
complaints for the transit authority.
PLAYBOY: How do you kcep in touch with
the everyday operations of the depart-
ments under your control? Isn't there a
tendency for the mayors office to be-
come isolated from the self-sustaining
bureaucratic machinery, which always
remains the same, whatever the change

LINDSAY: J manage to keep in touch. The
first time I phoned the police department
for news late at night, they thought I
was a drunk. They've since learned to
know better. I try to call all the various
departments at unexpected moments.
And if I get a sullen answer, I let the
official know how I feel.

РАҮВОҮ: Not long ago, the Associated
Press and Time magazine reported on
another mayoral idiosyncrasy: the Lind-

say technique for opening parks. Sup-
posedly, you conscripted Bess Myerson
to row you across Central Park pond,
splashed photographers in a nearby boat,
claimed a jutting rock for the city of
New York and returned ashore to enjoy
e a few glasses of wine. Do you
nk it’s seemly for an elected official to
сапу оп so playfully in public?
LINDSAY: Why not? The people of this
city like to enjoy themselves. They enjoy
action and they like to sec smiles, not
just doom and gloom, I enjoy being the
mayor of this city. It's a town full of joy
and it offers potential for happiness. 1
ve a good time and 1 don't mind
people watching me have a good time.
PLAYBOY: During your campaign for
mayor—the year after Goldwater's Presi-
dential candidacy—you hardly seemed
proud of your Republicanism. One
O. P. leader was quoted in Life after
your election as saying: "He got up every
morning and slapped his own party in
the teeth. And now he's the hottest Re-
publican around." Do you feel that this
statement is unfair?
LINDSAY: Of course its unfair. I ran for
mayor as a fusion candidate. I made ab
solutely clear my belief that the city
mus be run by a nonpartisan mayor.
But I'm a Republican and I'm proud of
it. And I will never do anything to hurt
my party; I'll always do what J think is
best for it.
PLAYBOY- But you must admit that it's
somewhat dificult to distinguish your
political ideology from that of a host of
liberal Democrats. In fact, some of your
Liberal Party and Reform Democratic
supporters openly wondered why some-
one of your persuasion would want to
Republican.
Im а Republican, and not a
Democrat, for quite basic reasons. 1 be
lieve individual liberties, in govern-
mental checks and balances and in the
importance of the private sector of the
economy. And 1 think these beliefs are
best expressed by the party of Teddy
Roosevelt and Vandenberg and Stimson
and Taft and Eisenhower. In addition, as
a New Yorker, I find that the Demoaats
in the big cities are often captives of
specialinterest groups and bloc politics
PLAYBOY: Governor Romney of. Michigan
has said that the 1966 elections. have
placed the Republican Party in a posi
tion to defeat President Johnson and the
Democrats in 1968. Do you agree with
the judgment? Has the С.О. Р. finally
weathered the crisis of the last three
years?
LINDSAY: The party has certainly bounced
ack from the i964 elections. Anyor
who reads the newspapers toda
that the Republicans are in an extreme!
good political n. As to whether
this means that a Republican candidate
will defeat Johnson im 1968, it’s i
sible to say at the moment:

posi

there are
too many factors that will influence that

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PLAYBOY

election. But the upward sweep of the
Republicans is clearly established.

PLAYBOY: What is your personal appraisal
of the two leading contenders for the
G.O.P. nomination in 1968—George

Romney and Richard Nixon—and what
do you think their chances will be against
Johnson?

LINDSAY: I think they're both good men,
but I don't feel it would be proper for
me to make any assesment of any of the
many possible contenders for the Presi-
dency. Nor would it be sensible at this
point to evaluate any man's chances
against Johnson,

PLAYBOY: Some time ago, Barry Gold-
water met with the representatives of
four major conservative splinter groups to.
form a new conservative “superlobby”
within the Republican Рану. Do you
think the conservatives сап тайма!
their new unity? And if they can perma-
nently overcome their divisions. do you
think they might desert the G.O. P. to
form a third national party?

LINDSAY: I think there is a great deal of
energy and zeal among the conservative
members of the Republican Party, and 1
suppose this zeal will unite them for
some time to come. But 1 doubt seriously
the development of any third national

рапу.
PLAYBOY: What are your own plans for
19682 E: nd Novak, the Washi

ton colu
to seek the
nomination.
UNDSAY: In 1068, I plan to be right
where 1 am now—mayor of New Yor
City. 1 am pledged to serve the full fou
year term to which 1 was elected
1965, and I stand by that pledge.
PLAYBOY: As a rule, mayors of great citics
have difficulty projecting themselves
candidates for higher office. Within
recent memory, Collins of Boston, Cava
h of репой, Dilworth of Philadel-
phia and even your predecessor, Robert
Wagner, have all failed in their bids for
Senator or governor of their respective
ates. Do you think the mayor's job in
New York may be а dead end?
LINDSAY: It’s not true that being mayor
of New York is а dead end. Some mayors
of New York have gon Some have
had to go far. One went to Mexico. An-
other went to Europe. I think the mayor
of a great city ought to forget about run-
ning for other offices. He ought to es
haust himself politically in his job of the
moment, As for myself, I have no incli-
nation or wish to run for any other office.
PLAYBOY: According to a number of politi-
cal prognosticators, the 1972 Democratic
convention is shaping up as a Hum-
phrey-Kennedy battle. What, in your
opinion, will happen? If Robert Kennedy
is nominated, could any Republican
defeat him—including yourself?

LINDSAY: I really don't think of myself as
being in a position сус:

mentioned that you р
G.O. P. Vice-Presidential

to project what

100 Il be doing in 1972, much less the

That’s such

y long
it would be idle to speculate

about it.
PLAYBOY: How would you rate Kennedy

k?

as à Senator from New Yor
LINDSAY: 1 have real respect for the jun-
jor Senator. I think he and Senator Javits
have worked hard and well for the state.
PLAYBOY: In view of his past record, how
sincere do you feel is Kennedy's іре
ism?
LINDSAY: It’s certainly not for me to talk
bout his sincerity or any other man's
sincerity. I take what he states publicly
to be his пие beliefs.
PLAYBOY: In 1962. as Auorney General,
Kennedy made a good-will tour around
the world, and you wrote to Secretary of
State Rusk questioning the wisdom of
“freewheeling foreign missions on the
part of highly placed amateurs." What
was your reaction to his most recent
overseas trip. from which he was sid to
lave returned with an unofficial peace
feeler from Hanoi, delivered to him.
through the French?
LINDSAY: І have only one thing to say
about that. When Vice-President Hum-
phrey returned from his official visit to
Europe, І sent him a message. It re:
"Better eggs in Rome than peace feelers
in Pai
PLAYBOY: Is there a possibility that you
might oppose Senator Kennedy for the
governorship in 1970?
LINDSAY: It would be just as useless to
speculate about 1970 as about 1972. 1
have a more immediate job—being
mayor of New York.
PLAYBOY: Let's talk about another Ken-
nedy. then. What is your estimate of the
stature and accomplishments of the late
President?
LINDSAY: President Kennedy brought a lift
to the country, particularly to the young
people. that was very important. 1 would
say that his greatest accomplishment,
without any question, was the people he
auracied into government—young tal-
cnt. Thats an essential thing in this
country.
PLAYBOY: How would you compare the
Kennedy and Johnson Presidencies?
LINDSAY: As persons, they're entirely
different and their approaches are corre.
gly different. One can't really
are the two. President Kennedy
brought us movement. style and light—
and even the beginnings of change
the Federal system. But President Ken-
nedy was frightfully deadlocked in the
Congress of which 1 was a member.
Though 1 wouldn't want to attempt to
guess the reasons, 1 would doubt that it
Kennedy's fault. President. Johnson
of course, produced results in the Coi
gress his first year in office. But it must
be borne in mind that he was picking up
measures that had been begun by Pres
dent Kennedy. Many of those measures
represented change, and since legislative
bodies very often resist change, consid-

erable time is sometimes necessary for
passage. I saw it as а member of C
gres, and that was my particular bird's
eye—or worn'scye—view.

PLAYBOY: How would you compare the
Johnson and Kennedy foreign polices?
LINDSAY: President Johnson has wanted
to concentrate on the domestic scene.
‘There is good reason for this, because
domestic policy needs a lot of attention.
But in foreign policy, there's much that
can and should be done. One gets the
impression that the President is not en-
tirely at home in foreign policy and that
the governments of other countries, in-
cluding allied countries. sense this. In
е been concerned about
sive frustrations that have pro-
gressively been building up in the West-
ern community. President Kennedy had
a grand design for the unification of the
It didn't
it about.
1 Johnson subsequently inherited
а deterioration in relations. Whether,
ultimately, by statesmanship. he
is detei i i

It will require fa
he’s been able to

greater attention than
e it thus far,
reason for John-
tention to European affairs, of
course, is the war in Vietnam. How Чо
you feel about his decision to escalate the
conflict?

LINDSAY: I think the nature of our in-
volvement in Vietnam is unwise, and 1
don't think that escalation is the answer.
Bombing solves nothing. The more esca-
ion, the Jess chance there is for nego-
tiation. We've got to work things out
in Vietnam on a diplomatic level.
PLAYBOY: How do you feel about our
stated China policy of “containment
without isolation"?

LINDSAY: I think it needs rethinking—
but I’m not prepared to go beyond that
at this point. Right now, I've got to con-
centrate on the vital task of providing
New York City with the kind of leader-
ship it deserves. Rebuilding the cities of
America is the major task of my genera-
tion. All the great metropolitan areas,
not just New York, have to turn the
corner from the mire of decline and de
сау. There are those who say that the
problem of our cities must wait until the
п Victnam is resolved or а man
placed on the moon. But J say that these
problems won't wait, and by any reason-
able set of values, they shouldn't have to
wait In the meantime, New York is a
test case; we mean to be in the vanguard
of a national movement toward a new
urban age and a better life. I sincerely
ve that the real opportunities for
better living in i lie in the
cities. As mayor, 1 want to do everything
сап to grasp these opportunities here in

war

bel

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А
SMALL
BUFFET

IN

MALDITA

in that hypersophisticated expatriate gatlering—halfovay between elegant

brawl and compulsive partygoers’ т

el—he found just one person worth

caring about: the sad-cyed, loose-limbed girl who clearly did not belong

fiction By HARRY BROWN

THEY Got ME to Marian Delmore's party,
in the end—but only under duress and
over my own dead body

In the beginning I thought I'd beaten
the тар, It was our first morning in Ше
finca, or country house, that we'd rented
in what turned out to be a gingo-
riddled Mexican town. Polly, along with
our son, Jock, and the cook, had driven
off to market to buy staples. 1 was alone,
siting under an old pepper tree in the
itio, at one of those round, hide-topped
tables whose design hasn't changed since
before stout Cortez hit the beach, and
uying to put down some ideas about the
novel I wanted to do. There was an open
notebook on the table, but my mind was
shut and locked. I felt Ш at ease and
uncomfortable, and 1 was damned if J
knew why

A big black bird beat through the air
over my head and set up shop in another
old pepper nee at the far corner of the
patio. It may have looked like a cow's
idiot cousin, but it had a distressingly
well-stocked sound department. E listened.
to squawks, tills, ripples, whoops, a
rattle like distant snare drums, and the

cut-short gurgle of somebody making the
deep six the hard way. Then it broke
off, in the middle of what I took to be
the French alphabet as recited in the
elementary schools of Dahomey, aud flew
toward the Rio Maldo i

A girl came in through the open
mesquite gates.

She might bave been a
boy. A pair of gray-flann
held up to a certain extent by a scuffed
belt, over which a frayed pink Brooks
Brothers shirt drooped like untrimmed
pie cust. Her auburn hair was cropped
much too short, her face was a problem
in solid geometry. and she stood. God
help her, more than six feet tall. The
lace of one dirty white tennis shoe was
untied. flopping along on the tiles as
she shuffled up to the table and lurched
10 а halt

“I know you,” she said. Her voice
resembled someone walking on gravel
played French horn.
ou know me."

My mouth, which often leads a life of

ILLUSTRATION BY MARTIN HOFFMAN

103

PLAYBOY

its own, let its corners turn up a little.
“Lalage,” І said pointlessly. І nodded.
The nod had no point, either.

La-la-gay,”" she repeated, expelling the
last syllable as though it had a bad taste.
"It's а fool name, I know. I hate it. Go
on and laugh."

“Why should Е”

"You started. to.'

I doscd the notebook and brushed a
few pepper leaves trom the table. "I never
h, Lalage," I said. "I either
g I don't. And as far as your
name's concerned, I've heard it before
and I like it"

I guess that nobody had ever said such.
a thing to her about her name, because
she stared at me in surprise and disbelief
before she got around to asking: "Did
you know a girl named Lalage?

In a way, yes.”

“Whi is she now?”

"Long gone. I'm afraid.”

Instcad of pursuing the matter as a
normally curious female might have done,
Lalage went off at à tangent. "You don't
look as old as I thought vou would.
The remark shouldn't have cut, but it
id. “That's nice,” I said, bleeding a bit.
"In spite of your disappointment."

“What?”

"How old did you think I was?"

“My mother says you're over fifty."

I should never have gone to Holly-
wood: The price of fame, like that of
almost everything else, is slightly higher
west of the Rockies, “In that case, the
back of my hand to your mother,” 1 said.

Lalage frowned at the table. “It
doesn’t matter," she mumbled.
“It does to me,” 1 told her. "Not to

mention my wife. Or my son, He takes

age very seriously, my son does How
old are you. incidentally?
‘That doesn't matter, either" She

went over to one of the rosebushes along
the wall and lightly batted а bud
around. “Twenty-two,” she said. Нег
back was toward me and I could barely
hear her. “A horrible age.” was her after-
thought, spoken to the rosebud.

“Want to swap ages?

“If I—" She ueated the bud to a
last left hook and spun about clumsily
“My father's dead. Is yours?
Ко, he lives in Boston. Amounts to
the same thing, though.”

“Is he nice?

“My father? He's a dirty old man."

“Oh, he isn't!” Га shocked her.

“Well, maybe not, Lalage, when you
come right down to it. But he would be,
derstand, if Т didn't send him soap.”

She smiled, for the first time. 1 drank
the smile in quickly, but not so fast that
1 couldn't taste а jigger of bitters in it.
“I know," she said. "You're teasing me.”

"Thats the way we men in our fifties
arc, always teasing girls in their thirties.”

She sighed and folded into the chair

104 across from me like a dropped pawnshop

accordion. How old are you, Mr. Cullo-
den, honest?” she wanted to know, lean
rd with her weight on her thin
"Or shouldn't I ask?’

ng for weeks that somebody'd ask
I'm forty-five. And on August. nine-
teenth, ГЇЇ be forty-six.”

You don't have birthday parties, do
you? Not anymore, anyway. They're for
small children. You know, very small
children.”

“That's where you're wrong, Lalage,
I said. “Belicve me, I'm a man who has
fantastic birthday parties, a man who
hasn't been told he's not a very small
child anymore.”

“Oh, I do believe you!” she exclaimed,
and waited eagerly for me to go on. I
guess it was then that I realized how
desperate she was to be talked to, even
if what she heard was nonsense or bom-
st or merely a ten-cent
“One birthday а yc:
sometimes two. And with the strangest
guests, in the strangest places.”

She laughed. “Oh, you're
again!”

It doesn't mean a thing. Nothing I
say before noon ever means a thing.
Didn't your mother tell you that about
me, too? Why should it?”

1 don't know.

"Neither do I. Any morc than I know
why vou came calling."

My tone was casual, but the pitchour
caught her ten feet off base. She swal-

teasii

lowed and said: "Why, I came—I
thought I—iv’s about the party my
mother's giving you. She said ıo”

"What party?" It was my turn to dive
back to second. safe by a whisker.

Lalage flushed and sagged away from.
the table, letting her big hands drop into
p. “Wants to give you, I should've
She blinked at her hands. “Yes,
it, she wants to give you а party,
my mother docs, and she sent me over
here to tell you. Ask you, 1 me.
y kind of your mother,” I
never met, though

Lalage’s reply could have been the
memorized opening of a set speech:
Шу, everybody in Maldita—from
the foreign colony, that is—won't be in-
vited. Only the ones who are most inter-
esting and who have something to offer,
the ones you'd be most apt to like. It
would be a pleasant, small buffet dinner
outdoors, weather permitting, with not
more than ten or twelve other people,
none of-
one of whom I know."
rply than I'd intended.

Her shoulders twitched.
she said. ^I could've told
don't.”

Her voice was so low that 1 thought
I'd missed the end of a sentence. “Don't
what?

Invite somebody they haven't even
met. To their houses, I mean,” Lalage

I spoke more

"m sorry,"
hcr. People

stopped whatever the latest thing w
that she was doing with her fingers and
lifted her eyes to mine. They had be-
come wet somehow. “It’s not what they
expect, don't you sce? It’s not what they
expect at all.

Listen, Lalage,” I said. “I came down
to Mexico to work, Not to eat. Not for
love. Not even to glide. І dare say I'l
meet your mother, and everyone elc
who's around, but I don't want to com-
mit myself to the people who live in
Maldita when I haven't even had time to
commit myself to the place where they
live. So please thank your mother for us,
tell her that І appreciate her invitation,
and ask her if she won't give us a
check, That make sense?”

Lalage stood up as though I weren't
there and went over and paid attention
to the roses again. Her left hand banged
away at the same old rosebud. It was
beginning to look shopworn.

After a while she cocked her head, and
her body stiffened as if she were being
summoned by a whistle pitched too high
for my ears. Then she made for the
gates, ambling loosc-jointedly like some
ant marionette manipulated, perhaps,
by an apprentice god.

Halfway down the patio, she stopped
and turned. Under her eyes the flesh had
become damp all the way to the jawline,
and at least one friendly neighborhood
teardrop had left its mark on the old
pink Brooks shirt, above where her insig-
nificant breast must have be What-
ever you're thinking," she said in a flat
voice, “I'm glad you can't com

Somethi began to bother me as sooi
as she was gone, something that only
after several minutes of concentration re-
solved into a mental picture of an enor-
mous pair of eyes. I couldn't connect
them with a person at first, and then it
hit me that they belonged to Lalage Del-
more. To discover
Lalage Delmore’s spares
loose body struck me as being a
joke, of dubious decency, on the р:
Almighty God. I thercfore tore my
away from the vision of Lalage Delmore.
lt was not an easy thing to do.

It was a lot easier than escaping the
Delmore party, however, as I learned
the next day around noon.

Yd spent the morning wandering
about Maldita. mostly on the other side
of the Rio Maldorado, where an old dirt
road went by a baker's dozen elaborate
gringo-built country houses. Their style.
although indigenous to Maldita, seemed
to be made up of clements of Spanish
Colonial Ludwig П Bavarian, Roman-
esque and, let's face it, Visigothic.

Be that as it may, when 1 got back to
our finca, the mesquite gates were open
and a Mercedes 300 was parked there
in gleaming-black arrogance, At onc of
the patio tables, Polly was sipping rum
with a good-looking, ravendhaired woman

(continued on page 110)

them burning out of
iked, puppet-
sick

“What the hell, ГИ make you all stars overnight!

peter fonda and susan strasberg star in hollywood's first psychedelic sex freak-out

150 had to happen in Hollywood sooner
or later—and it has turned out to be
right now. Audiences are getting their
first look at a film version of an ulti-
mate acidhead experience. The Trip,
currently on view across America, is a
series of cinematic psychedelicacies mir-
roring the ecstasies and aberrations of an
LSD joy ride.

Peter Fonda, who last year became an
underground idol with his ambulatory
antics in The Wild Angels, goes even
further beneath society's surface in this
film. As Paul Groves, Fonda portrays a
turned-off director of TV commercials in
the process of being divorced by his
wife. As a means of coming to grips
with his life, Groves turns on to LSD,
and his fantasies comprise almost the
full itinerary of The Trip.

Susan Strasberg, as Fonda's film mate,

takes giant strides toward becoming a
cinema siren with her most sensual
screen showing to date. (Susan's curva-
ceous charms graced PLAYBOY portfolios
in December 1963 and December 1965.)
Also featured in the filin is Salli Sachse,
as a blonde hippie goddess, Salli, 22,
heautified a half-dozen AI bikini-beach
cpics before her current role, and more
than measures up (36-22-33) as the sexual
focal point of Fonda’s film freak-out
That this picture will arouse contro-
versy is implicit in its subject matter—the
twin taboos of sex and psychedelics.
Whether or not the movie will be judged
as high art or big box осе seems im-
material The real impact and import
of The Trip is that, for the first time,
Hollywood has tuned into the vibrations
—good and bad—humming hallucino-
genically throughout the nation.

The Trip. Peter Fondo plays a director of TV commercials who tries LSD as a psychic panacea for all his personel problems. Chief among
wife Sally (Suson Strasberg), intent an divorcing him. After Fonda takes on LSD capsule, he sees Miss Strasberg in weirdly evocative

tings, Opposite page: Above, she appears os an otovistic lave priestess; belaw, flowers projected anta her nude body produce a sensually
pastaral effect. After seeing Strasbera's face split into more thon o dozen images (above), Fondo fontosizes а moving aprés-sex scene.

Up tight at the start af The Trip, Fanda embarks upon hallucinagenic journey and is soan
out af sight. Above, he envisions an afternoon's Elysian idyli—a euphoric outing au
naturel with two comely campanions. During his LSD odyssey, Fanda focuses in an Salli
Sachse (below), the blonde subject of his day-tripping dreams. Just as he begins to come
dawn, Fanda finds her, and the twa repair to a Santa Monica hatel at the film's end.

X

Да)

EZ ИАН И; “FE

PLAYBOY

A SMALL BUFFET

whose race-horse legs were crossed under
а little something Puci had whipped
up. I thought she was about 35, but as I
went toward the table, I saw that I'd
flattered her by 15 or 20 years. The face
had been lifted un was so taut you
could play handball on it, the hair had
been dyed by a master and the fine body
kept trim by gymnasium tortures and
ruthless dieting.

"Sam," Polly s: before I'd made it
to the table, "this is Mrs. Delmore. She
wa”

“Marian Delmore,” the woman broke
in, smiling up at me. “And I'm so glad
you put in an appearance before 1 had to
leave. I've been wanting to meet you for
years, ever since I read The Flowers of
the Forest, and when Jack Weatherby
wrote that you'd taken his house—I
can't tell you how pleased I was. Espe-

cially since 1 was in New York last April
and saw the off-Broadway revival of

play.
caught it, too,” I said.
Oh, I did love it, that pla
Delmore said. "Didn't you think it was
a beautiful production, considering how
tiny the theater was, an

“Unusual, anyway," I said.

"Oh? You wouldn't give it higher
marks than ай”

Tt had been a prancing fiasco. The
Shooting Gallery called for seven male
and five female parts, but there hadn't
been a single heterosexual in the off
Broadway cast that, during an intermi-
nable evening, dragged the corpse of the
play, feet first, back and forth across a
quivering Lilliputian stage. The drill-
sergeant dykes made violoncello declama-
tions above the footlights; the upstaged
fruits fluted happily as they tried to fiut-
ter up the walls of the set,

“I thought your daughter was charm-
ing,” 1 told Mrs. Delmore.

"There were a hundred ways of an-
swering her question about The Shoot-
ing Gallery, but she never expected that
one. When she recovered, she said hur-
riedly: “Oh, no, no, no! She was very rude
to you, Mr. Culloden. ! made her tell
And she was very foolish, besides. Utterly
foolish. You should have slapped her.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I liked Lalage.”
[hen you made a mistake, my dear
man." The Dehnore smile had gone.
“The girl's impossible, a every pos
sible way. Гус just about made up my
mind that she and I would both be
better off if 1 sent her to"

“Marian's invited us all to a buffet to-
ht," Polly interrupted. “And I've said
she went on sweetly—so sweetly, in
that I forgot to throw a table at her,
"t that nice, Sam?" She was spooning
out the words like vanilla junket.

your

"The Delmore-party sequence might as

по well open with a close shot of me, stand-

(continued from page 104)

ig alone and pretty well stoned by a
wooden column at the end of one of sev-
eral Delmore loggias, gloomily watching
the ice cube melt in my second rum оп
a rock and brooding about the wolf-
on-the-fold block that had descended,
Assyrianlike, on my writing.

A comedy is merely a tragedy that has
come out to take the sun for a while,
after which all the characters will have to
go back in the house. Such, at least, had
heen my theory; and such was the basic
attitude I'd taken the work I'd come
to Mexico to do—a novel about Holly-
wood. Originally, it had seemed to be a
project that would be pleasant to de-
velop and simple to carry out, For years
I had been challenged by, and had
responded to, this commercial-diamond
society of dever Jukes and cute Ка
kaks and most of its flawed facets had
glittered around me at one stage of the
game or another. I had planned the
novel in the conviction that all I had
to do was assemble what I'd seen and
heard. invent some characters who'd do
and say the remembered things, wrap
characters and incidents in a sturdy
Manila-paper plot, and then hold the
package up to a mirror of mercurial
readers. Now I knew beter.

A stampeding herd of second thoughts
had driven my shorn flock of first
thoughts out of the grazing ground and
into the next county. Lately I'd begun to
see Hollywood not as a society but
rather as a. private reflection of the kind
of society it would һауе liked Society to
be. Therefore, any novel written about
the place would only be holding one dis-
torted fun-house mirror up to another,
with a crazy series of images shrinking
within themselves to ultimate invisibility.
And in my head the novel was well on
the way to invisibility, too, growing
smaller as my frustration swelled—a
diminishing will-o-thewisp that capered
in a mad marsh-gas dance, always inches
beyond my dutching fingers. Frustration:
‘That the key word.

But I'd had enough of such thoughts.
I reckoned it was time to find Polly,
since the Saint Bernards had obviously
los her im all And І also
needed another drinl

It was a sleeper jump across the Del
more patio to where the liquor hung out.
I use the word “patio” because I са
come up with a more precise one. It cer-
tainly covered an acre; it may have
covered two. Anyway, more trees than a
man in his right mind would count were
lost it. Beneath the trees a confusion
of tile paths meandered through wall-to-
wall lawn as smooth as a putting green.

The main house sprawled along better
than half of one side of the patio. French
doors opened onto a terrace the size of a

the snow.

basketball court, where garden furniture
was strewn helterskelter like а crowd
leaving after the game. Running parallel
to this terrace was а swimming pool i
which the Niña, the Pinta and the Santa
Maria could have been anchored.
Several lightyears away, on the side
of the patio opposite the main house,
was a pair of ill-matched buildings; and
although there shouldn't have been an-
between them, that's where
s. The newest of these

brick modern design, and the less said
about it, the better. The other, however,
was an old tower, charming and full of
merest. A beautifully graduated exterior
staircase rose to a circular room at the
top. The proportions were good and the
stones had obviously been in place for
centuries.

No hard knot of guests was on the ter-
race; in fact, the only living thing there
was the liquor table. As I paid my de-
voirs to the genteel by plopping an ice
cube into my glass before dumping in
the тиш, I tried to locate Polly and
couldn't. І saw Jock, though, 75 inches of
him, sitting under the grandfather of all
jacarandas with a family named Young,
about as far from me as second base is
from home plate. The Youngs, who'd ar-
rived in Maldita a week before us, were
also holding to American punctuality
and had reached the Delmore house
simultaneously with the Cullodens.

Bruce Young was a full professor of
United States history at one of those large,
economysize Midwestern state universi-
ties; his particular field was the 1840-
1870 period, which covered the Causes,
Waging and Aftermath of the Last War
Between Gentlemen, I liked the cut of
his jib, if only because he was handsome
in an ugly way, or vice versa, and was
about my own age, give or take а year.
—oh, Helen Young was attrac-
„ in the same way that a suit of
armor is attractive, She impressed
ше as being compact, useful and steel
hard; a description, incidentally, that
fis the U.S. Army helmet 1 didn't
doubt that she had more to do with
getting that [ull with
tenure, than Professor Young himself.

Their daughter, Nancy, was willowy
rather than compact, and in her the stcel
had become blananange. She was Jock's
ge, or а year younger, and she was the
only reason that he was sitting where he
was. I couldn't blame him. Nan Young
the prettiest little lilylight to have
come tripping down his pike in a good
many months. Her beauty, of course,
probably made her more than he could
handle—at his ape, and in his dubious
state of grace and confidence. Whenever
Jock, wrapped in his mute, 17-year-old
longings, his neither-child-nor-man pains,

(continued on page 218)

professorship,

wa

article
BY BUDD SCHULBERG

its founder and mentor tells
how creativity and hope

have risen from the ashes of
the beleaguered black ghetto

ır WAS BLACK FRMAY, the 13th of
1965. Like millions of other
or complacent

August,
dazed Angelenos,
unscheduled

"spectacular," the damnedest tele

I was watching an

vision show ever put on the tube. Not
long before, І had write:
duction for a new edition of The
Day of the Locust, in which Na-
thanael West projects a Hollywood
art director whose masterwork is an
canvas entitled The
Burning of Los Angeles. West's
painter saw his vapid, vicious city
consuming itself in angry flames.
Here, on television, in prime time—
in fact, around the clock for cight
days that shook not only Los Angeles
but the entire country—was Na
thanael West's nightmare vision as
iE it had leaped from the canvas and
coming live from Watts.

Fires broke out not only in Watts
but in most of southeast and central
Angeles. Television cameras
hanging from helicopters brought
the action into our living rooms
Flames from the supermarkets were
licking the sky. Crowds were loot-
ing pawnshops, drugstores, liq
uor stores, radio-TV stores, clothing

an intro-

Los

and all
the other estab-
lishments tha

1 had been quietly

f Tooting the community
on the installment. plan
over the years.

An effervescent Negro disc jockey, Magnificent Mon-
tague, had popularized the phrase “Burn, baby, burn!”
for a platter that sizzled on his turntable. Now his
innocent zest became a battle cry—not burn with
musical fire but with real, live, crackling, dangerous,
revolutionary fire. To the frightened С s living
in their white ghettos far to the north and west of the
barricades, “Burn, baby, burn!" was an ominous and
threatening invocation, But 10 the black people who
finally had taken possession of their own streets,
"Burn, baby, burn'—expresed in the symbol of
three fingers raised jubilantly into the humid summer
air—was charged with revolutionary zeal, It was the
"Don't tread on me” and "Damn the torpedocs—full
speed ahead” of the rebellion of Watts.

A stores

ucasia

We at home

were watching
no les than

the on-the-scene
frontline tele
vision coverage
of ай war.
For make mo
mistake about
it This was no
A riot it
have been

LEN its first, spon
taneous hours;

but as the hated Los Angeles
Police Department now tried.
to contain what they had trig-
gered, it transformed itself
into a full-scale revolt that had
been years in the making in
the festering black ghettos of
Los Angeles, a rebellion the
affluent city of the white man
was unaware of because he was
looking north and west whi
hundreds of
sweating out poverty, hunger.
unemployment, the lack of
education and recreation, and
hurting with the humiliation
of it all, to the south and
east. — (continued on page 162)

riot.

thousands were

wherein the hapless
castaway of company k—everglades
defense command—joins the glory boys on а harrowing
flight of fancy and learns what they mean
by "the wild blue yonder”

па the sunny Everglades. I was a corporal in the

BRONZED, weather-beaten face smiled at me from.
the ad, teeth white and even; ice-blue eyes magnetic
—those of a particularly alert, responsible eagle—

surrounded by thin care lines from long hours of star-
ing into the yawning sky. He wore a jaunty dark-blue
cap slashed by broad golden wings, and looked directly
at me, or rather through me, from the cockpit window
of a sleek silver jet. The caption read:

ptain Bill Winslow. His hobby is mosaics. He also
gardens a little in his spare time. He has logged
over 10,000,000 hours in the air and has flown the
equivalent of 217,392 times around the equator. He
welcomes you aboard his sturdy, multiengine air-
liner. He will get you there. On time.

The ad, as they say on Madison Avenue, sang. Cap-
tain Winslow was obviously a father, someone you could
trust all the way, You could put your whole life, your
portfolio, even your résumé—everything—with perfect
confidence into his strong brown hands. Yet I was con-
scious of a vague, uneasy stirring of something long
dormant, something that did not jibe with the idyllic,
confident image of flying that the full-page spread
conveyed.

It was not until several nights later, however, as I
sprawled before my flickering TV set, that I began to
know why. Pipe long since extinguished, a warm can of
beer clutched in my claw, my Late Late Show headache
throbbing dully around the bridge of my nose, I was

bout to rouse myself from six hours of television torpor
ed a Donald O'Connor dance-athon after

aft engines filled the room, followed by the
clipped tones of Chester Morris, his gruff voice barely
discernible in the scream of the slip strcam through the
struts of his biplane:

This is X-2 I'm putting her into a flat spin now.
Over and out.”

Ik scarf cracking in the wind, Chester’s helmeted
figure hunched over the controls. The scene shifted. We
were on the ground. A trio of anxious yiewers—an
elderly man, a burly yet friendly mechanic and a lovely
irl—peered into the murky sky. The mechanic, my old
епа Alan Hale, said:
I wouldn't send my worst enemy up in that crate."
1 would guess offhand that to find someone who has
not heard that line a minimum of ten umes, you would
have to do some extremely diligent hunting in the more
remote areas of Greenland. But when 1 heard it this
time, tremors of hair-prickling memory coursed up my
bent spine. Г was sent up in that crate! Somewhere, off
in the farthest reaches of the firmament, ghostly voices
sang:

"Off we go, into the wild blue yonder
Flying high, into the sun...”

‘The awful scene slowly came back clear and bright. A
cold sweat beaded my brow. I clung to my chair with
the fervor of a two-week drunk hanging to the earth for
fear that he'll fall off

As with most disasters, it came on the wings of hope
nd beauty. It was a bright, clear, balmy Florida day,
just like the day they always show in travel films about
al

Corps. My heart was pure, my eyes were bright, my tail
was bushy, my suntans starched and pressed razor sharp.
I had not yet reached my 18th birthday and already 1
was a corporal. 1 little realized, of course, that 1 was at
the pinnacle of ту Army career, that I was destined to
lose my two stripes several times over and that I would
see a day when making Pfc. seemed an impossible goal.

But on this bright, cl ing, with the sun beam-
ing overhead, a few gulls wheeling in the middle dis-
tance, life was full. My specialty was airborne radar.
Now, airborne radar does not exactly mean what it
sounds like. An airborneradar specialist does not
jump out of aircraft hollermg "Geronimo!" Not
deliberately, that is. For months I had been schooled in
the intricacies of installing, testing and maintaining
radar in various types of operational warplanes. Such
s my zeal in the classroom and in the lab that my
superiors immediately recognized a child of desi
Naturally, they saw to it that I was hurried forward to
meet it.

But the Army, like fate, often moves in a mysterious
way its wonders to perform. After long months of
airborne training, 1 was inexplicably assigned to Com-
pany К, a company whose sole reason for being lay
the operation, maintenance, coddling, cursing at and
patching together of a radar set that already, in the
dawn of the radar age, was so old and arthritic as to be
a collector’s item. We were part of the Signal Air Warn-
ing System, stashed away in a remote corner of Florida's
vast swamplands. Day and night, our drooping dipole
antennas scanned the skies for marauders—and gathered.
bird dung by the pound. What the hell we would hz
done had an attack actually come, I have no idea. Our
phone to the outside world worked on the average of
one day out of ten, and our two-way command radio
had long since rotted away with jungle crud. The one
me we did spot an enemy sub surfaced offshore the
results were mainly a lot of yelling in the company area.
Three hours after we managed to relay the alert to the
outside world, a tiny Piper Cub appcarcd over the
horizon, took onc look at the sub, lurched violently,
climbed frantically into the clouds and disappeared
forever. The U-boat lay peacefully offshore with it:
crew doing their laundry and taking a swim, while
our commanding officer smiled thinly and sucked at a
warm Coke And that night, alter the sub had sub-
merged, heading down the coast and torpedoing oilers
as she went, Company К went back to its eternal
pinochle game and waited for the next alert.

The throb of our radar's diesel generator, meanwhile,
permeated every corner of our lives—the meals we ate,
our conversations, our sleep. The only companions we
could count on were the immense, blackish, moiling
cloud of mosquitoes that stretched from horizon to hori-
zon and came to visit every night as the sun went down.

Through it all, somehow, my dreams of pa i
glory remained undimmed; someday, | knew t
would be summoned from this Godforsaken backwater
to the field of honor. І could hear the citation now:
"And for acts of signal valor above and beyond the
call of ашу. . .” Little did I know how soon that call
would come—or how far above and beyond it I was
destined to soar. On the fateful morning in question,
I was in the midst of my regular morning detail-
search-and-destroy mission for body lice—when Captain
Crawford, our CO., а gaunt, (continued on page 224)

Top: Quarterback Bill Miller hands off to runner John Acuff as Miami tramples lowa 44-0. Above left: Miami end Ted Hendricks leaps to block а punt.

pre-season prognostications for the top college teams and players across the nation

sports By ANSON MOUNT w тик рос pays of late August, thousands of brawny young men wend their way back
to campuses to begin three weeks of head knocking before the first kickoff. At the 2 millions of football fans.
begin combing sports pages for some hint of what the coming season's tribal warfare will bring. Will the good guys beat
the bad guys again (or at last)? Will ignominious defeats at the hands of the arrogant enemy be avenged? The suspense
grows until the first r ce's whistle blows and the battle is joined. Then, e Saturday for three months, millions of

id fans savor the sweet taste of victory or endure the humiliation of defeat а ysical risk to themselves and with
immeasurable therapeutic valuc. At least, so goes the theory of some towerbound (text continued on page 118)

PLAYBOY’S 1967 PREVIEW ALL-AMERICA OFFENSIVE TEAM

OFFENSIVE TEAM. Bottom row: Warren McVea, halfback (Houston); Gary Beban, quarterback (UCLA); John Wright, end (Illinois). Middle row:
Jim Seymour, end (Notre Dame); Edgar Chandler, guard (Georgia); Harry Olszewski, guard (Clemson); Larry Csonka, fullback (Syracuse); Lorry
Smith, halfback (Florida). Top row: Wayne Moss, tackle (Clemson); Ron Yary, tackle (Southern California); Bob Johnson, center (Tennessee).

THE ALL-AMERICA SQUAD

(Any one of whom has a good chance of making someone's All-America teom)

116

ENDS: Jim Cox (Miami, Florida), Freddie Hyatt
(Auburn), Richard Trapp (Florida), Dennis Homan

Fred Corr (Texas Western), Adrian Young (South-
ern California), Don Manning (UCLA), Bob

TOP TWENTY TEAMS

(Alcbome), Butch Sursavage (Clemson), Bill Dow Schmalzriedt (VMI) 1. Miomi (Florido)......,,...,9-1
(Navy), Al Brenner (Michigan St.), Jim Beirne BACKS: Dewey Warren (Tennessee), Lenny Snow

(Purdue), Bob Stein (Minnesota), Ken Hebert спа Bill Eastman (Georgio Tech), Terry Hanratly 2. Notre Dome.. 69-2)
(Houston), Glenn Meltzer (Wichita), John Gor- ond Tom Schoen (Notre Dome), Garrett Ford 3. Tennessee. 9-1
Finglon (LSU) (West Virginio), Bill Brodley and Chris Gilbert 3 eg a

TACKLES: Jim Urbanek (Mississippi), Bill Stanfill (Texas), Don Fitzgerald (Kent St.), Bob Apisa and 4. Colorado - 9-1
(Georgia), Ernest Ruple (Arkonsos), Rolf Krueger Jess Phillips (Michigan St.), Art McMahon (North ны

Teres ABI), Joe Greene (North Texas SJ, Pou! Carolia SL, Jim Smith (Oregon), Buddy Gore 5. Minois... 18-2
Maczuzak (Bucknell), Art Thoms (Syracuse), Steve (Clemson), Jerry levias (SMU), Bobby Duhon (То-

Thompson (Washington), Greg Pipes (Baylor), опе), Danny Holman (Son Jose St), Joy Cala Sip Michigan ‘Staley, K
Willie Crittendon (Tulsa) brese (Duke), Fronk Quoyle (Virginia), Oscar 7. Alabama...... DATO One
GUARDS: Ооп Sartin (Mississippi), Toni Conti Reed (Colorado St), Harry Cheatwood (Oklo- B. т 8-2
(Michigan St), Bruce Gunstra (Northwestern), homa St.), Wilmer Cooks and Dick Anderson DO E ea ae

Glen Grieco (Holy Crost). Wayne Meylond (Ne- (Colorado), Cornelius Davis (Kansas St), Dickey 9 Southern COSA ...8-2
braska), Maurice Моогтоп (Texas A&M), Curley Lyons (Kentucky), Ron Sellers (Florida St.), Jim

Culp (Arizona St), Bruce Stephens (Alobamo) ^ Кісі (Wyoming), O. J. Simpson (Southern Coli- 70. Mississippi. - . 8-2

CENTERS: Forrest Blue (Auburn), Mike Murphy
(Duke), Bill Nemoth (Arizona), Jon Kolb (ОМо-
homa St.)

LINEBACKERS: John Pergine (Notre Dome), Joe
Rushing (Memphis 51), Mike Reid (Penn St.J, Chip
Healy (Vanderbilt), Mike Sweatmon (Kansas),

PHOTOGRAPHY BY 2. BARRY O'ROURKE

fornia), Ran Gardin (Arizona)

SOPHOMORE LINEMAN OF THE YEAR: Tackle
Mike McCoy (Notre Dame)
SOPHOMORE BACK OF THE YEAR: Quarterback
David Teal (Miami, Floride)

Possible Breakthroughs: Virginio Tech
(8-2); Wisconsin (7—3); Houston (7—3);
Rice (7—3); North Carolina Siate (7—3);

DEFENSIVE TEAM. Bottom row: Wayne Owen, linebacker (Alabamo); Frank Loria, safety (Virginia Tech); Mike Hall, linebacker (Alabomo). Mid-

dle row: Leroy Keyes (Purdue), Bobby Johns (Alabama), defensive backs; D. D. Lewis, linebacker (Mississippi St.); Granville Liggins, guard (Oklo-
homo); Ted Hendricks, end (Місті, Fla.). Top row: Kevin Hardy, end (Notre Dame); Dennis Byrd (N. Carolina St.), Bill Staley (Utah St.), tackles.

11. Clemson.
12. Penn State

13. UCLA
14. Georgia
15. Syracuse ...

16. Texas A&M
17. Washington

18. Purdue
19. Wyoming. -
20. Amy.

B-2

.8-2
27-3
27-3

7-3

7-3
73

7-3

9-1

B-2

Tulane (7-3); Oklahoma (7-3); Florida
State (7—3); Nebraska (6-4); Memphis

State (6-3).

Charlie Tate, Coach of the Year (Miami, Fla.)

117

PLAYBOY

118

psychologists who have recently decided
that football contributes greatly to the
mass mental health of the American
population. This fascinating uh
thusly: While modern man's intellect has
bled him to build a highly technical
and civilized society, his body and emo-
t fined for cave dwi
les sw
bor while he burns
and tension. Grandfather Pil-
at out and dubbed a sabertooth
th every now and then or he went
ng oll to ray: liboring tribe,
thereby satisfying his combative instinct.
Purged of his natural hostility, he could
live between L in sweet tranquility.

Alas, E lo this
theory) has made its inroads Open war-
fare has become too risky, physical com-
bat with one’s neighbors is considered
uncouth, and landing an order is an
infinitely more efficient way to stock
larder than pursuing м on the
hoof. So modern man sits in his air-
ng with unex-

runs

pressed hostility.
Enter football. M

ions of desk-bound

fans participate

to-hand combat with a respectable num-
ber of participants getting hurt and with
even a little bloodlett lı is a fight be-
tween us and them (гію clerks who
never saw the inside of a sity can
identify with a local team as thoroughly
as can the most dedicated alumnu:
colorful and almost religious tribal rites
precede each battle; the winners bask in
the glory of triumph and the losers wait
until next year.

Each. summer, as we study the feverish
ns for these tribal conflicts, we
mused by some of the colorfully
d appropriately (or inappropriately)
yelept combatants We regret that we
: that Georgia punter Spike
A defensive back Wayne
re consummate musicians, nor that
Hunter Husband is pursued by
ima coeds.
ick is nor a

punter, nor is Virginia Tech end Ken
Barefoot. UGLA halfback Paul Derflinger
is not a paser, either; but with much

aesthetic satisfaction, we can report that
son tackle Wayne Mass weighs 275
pounds, that Texas sophomore linen
Deryl Comer indeed has a promising f
ture, that. Penn State defensive lineman
Steve Smear is a vicious nd that
Bucknell rookies Dave Vassar and Bill
Radcliffe are (vou guessed it) tailback
And now lets take a look at the
ous teams around the country.

Syracuse has been the big muscle in
Eastern football for so long trat its hard
to believe it will ever be different. But if

THE EAST
INDEPENDENTS

82 Colgate
82 Boston U.
73

64

Holy Cross
Navy Buffolo
Boston College 64
Pittsburgh 24

Villanova
Rutgers
IVY LEAGUE
72 Princelon
63 Columbia
63 Pennsylvania
54 Brown
MIDDLE ATLANTIC CONFERENCE

T2
63

Penn State
Amy

Syracuse

Delaware

Lafayette
Hofstra

Temple

TOP PLAYERS: Reid, Campbell, Buzin, Kwalick
үт. St), Young, Lindell Neswachen

(Army) Ka, Panczyszyn, Allen, Thoms
ыи Cartwright, Murray, Dow,
Taylor (Navy); McCarthy, Fallon, Johnson
(Boston C), Ferris, Keller, Longo (Pitt);
Burton, Tripp. e ger E Dexter,
Pryor (Boston Andreiko, Moore
Bien uM Kind (Holy Cross);

Murtha, Jones, Hurd (Buffalo); Dulin (Rut
gers); Dowling, Hill, Schmidt (Yale); Gatto,
immerman, Chiofaro (Harvard); Heeps, Zak
(Cornell); Luxford, Davis (Dartmouth);
Bracken, Hitcher (Princeton); Creeden
(Penn) Wright (Delaware); Maczuzak, Hav-
Tilak (Bucknell); Callahan (Temple); Craw,
Albus (Lafayette); Williams, Thorpe (Hofstra);
Laubach (Lehigh).

the big Orange is ever to be deposed,
this should be the year; and the coup
delat should be executed by
State or Army. The Nittany Lions, reap-
ing the rewards of a rebuilding program,
will mix д host of seasoned vets
bumper crop of rookies, the most v
ble of whom probably will be sharp-
shooting ficld-goal kicker Don Abbey.
The Army team will be almost a carbon
copy of the gritty young outfit that as-
tonished the country last year by coming
from nowhere to win eight games and
honors for Tom Ca-
‚ the Cadets should be even
on offense. With precocious
paser Steve Lindell tcaming with split
end Terry Young, Army should field its
ng team since the hallowed
lonely end.”

But let's not count out Syracuse yet.
Although last year's great offensive line
has departed, along with Floyd Little
(who may never be replaced), returning
is PLavBoy All-America fullback Larry
а, who charges into the linc like an
enraged buffalo and whose fierce block-
ing will help halfback Oley Allen (the
new number 44) take up some of the
slack caused by Little's departure. Also,
coach Schwartzwalder has at last come
up with a nifty quarterback in sopho-
more Rick Pancysyn, who should
give the Orange an effective passing
weapon for the first time in years.

Eastern football is on the upswing.
Nearly every major independent will be
beefier this year; but since they play one
another, there may not be too much
ference in the results Navy, Bullalo,
Boston College, Boston University and
Holy Cross all should field vastly
proved teams, but the most dra
Pittsburgh.

pathetic crew that was small, slow
maladroit. The '66 season was a traumatic
xperience for all hands. But the Рап.
thers have а windfall in this year’s crop
of sophs, who are many, large, fast and
talented. (New tailback Denny Ferris
will be a game breaker.) Result: Many of
last years fintstringers be third-
team spear carriers. The bleak part of
the Piu picture is that the schedule is the
toughest in the land. Victories will still
be scarce.

Navy hasn't had а winning season
since 1963, and the Middies are sick of
- A spate of new speedsters will
hypo the attack; passer John Cartwright
ad flanker Terry Murray are a potent

ial combo; and the Navy defense wil
always be adept under coach Bill E

А year ago, Boston College had great
expectations for ап айы
but the Eagles turned о
pt and [cll flat, This year, the
will be much improved, both lines will
be deep and experienced, Jast year's
hopes could be realized.

Either Boston Un y
Cross could be the surprise of the East
Both аге loaded wi experience and
good rookies. Colgate will be as stro
as ever, except that the Red Raiders wili
break with tradition and show more ex
pertise on offense than defense,
the passing and
Ron Burton. Rutgers will be more expe
rienced than а year but depth will
be a scrious problem, due to a
ly lackluster crop of sophs.

The Villanova squad is deeper and
more talented this year 1 should be
able to carry over its momentum from
last season, when it won its final five
games. The schedule is much tougher
"67. however, so a better than bre:
even season is doubtful, unless new
coach Jack Gregory introduces some
thing unexpected.

Anyone who tries to preguess the Ivy
League race is courting intellectual dis
aster; but since predicting the unpre
dictable is our big shtick, we'll try. We
suspect, on the strength of last year's re
sults, most Ivy fans expect Harvard 10
take it all this fall, with Dartmouth and
Princeton finishing close behind. But we

losi

doubt it. Although speedster Vic Gatto
returns and the defense will again be
rugged, Harvard lost half its starters

d, more important, the Crimson won't

be able to bushwhack unsuspecting ор-
ponents, as they did in '66. Dartmouth
and Princeton suffered serious inroads
from graduation. Both teams have some
supersophs on tap. so either could regain
potency by season's end. At Dartmouth,
new quarterback Bill Koenig will be
particularly outstanding.

With the foregoing in mind, it looks
from here as though Yale will have the
best shot at the "67 Ivy crown. Shrewd
coach Carm Сола hits the jackpot with
35 returning lettermen, and brilliant
quarterback Brian Dowling should be
healthy at last, thus doubling the Yalies"
olfensive potential.

Cornell must rebuild an offense de-
pleted by graduation; but if the rookies
come through, the Big Red will have
much to say about who winds up on top.
Columbia, Brown and Pennsylvania will
mewhat stronger this year, but
have a long way to go. Brown
lacks size and speed, Columbia s
from lack of depth and Penn
strung by a porous defense.

Coach Tubby Raymond has m:
to generate so much enthusiasm in his
Delaware Hens that they should a;
dominate the Middle Atlantic Confer-
ence, although both Temple and Gettys-
burg will still offer strong challenges.
Bucknell will be much improved, but
Lafayette will suffer from lack of a
skilled quarterback, Worth mentioning is
the fact that Hofstra has a prize soph
runner named Jim Thorpe.

THE MIDWEST
BIG TEN
Ohio State

Michigan.
Indiana

Minois. 82
Michigan Stole 82
Purdue 13

Wisconsin 73 ома
Minnesota 55 Northwestern

MID-AMERICAN CONFERENCE

Westem Mich 7-2 Toledo
Kent State 13 Miami
Bowling Green E Marshall
Ohio U.

INDEPENDENTS.
Notre Dame 91 Xavier
Dayton 13

TOP PLAYERS: Wright, Pleviok, Huston,
Johnson, Naponic (llinois) Raye, Apis
Praybycki, Phillips, Conti, Brenner (Michi
gan SL) Keyes, Beime, Kyle, Williams
(Purdue); Domres, Voigt, Little, Reddick
(Wisconsin); Stein, Bryant, Carter (Minne
sota); Hubbard, Anders (Ohio SL) Vidmer,
Phillips, Morgan (Michigan); Crusan, КП-
voshia (Indiana); Podolak, Huff, Williams
(lowa); Kurzawski, Cunstra (Northwestem);
Woodside, Mitchell (Western Mich); Fitz-
gerald, Landis (Kent SL), Jones, Green
(Bowling Green); Carmon, Нотага (Ohio
U): Beutler, Schneider (Toledo); Moore,
Shaw (Miami; Wilkinson, Hummel (Mar-
shall); Hardy, Seymour, Pergine, Schoen,
Hanratly, O'Brien, Bleier (Notre Dame);
Taylor, Kramarczyk (Dayton): Dineen, Bley
(Xavier).

"The top two teams in the country last.
year (if we can believe the wire-service
polls) were Notre Dame and Michi
State; and both teams, indeed.
everything it takes to be great. But this
year there is a vital difference between
the two squads: Although both lost a
half-dozen players of All-America cali-
ber, Notre Dame's replacements should
be almost as good as the losses, while
Michigan State isn’t nearly so fortunate,
Although the lnsh lost runners Nick
Eddy and Larry Conjar, veterans Ron
Dushney, Bob Gladieux and Rocky
Bleier, plus newcomers Jeff Zimmerman
and Ed Ziegler, should comprise an ade-
quate stable of horses. Nowe Dame's
most serious losses were in the middle of
the defensive line; but four talented and
monstrous rookies—Mike McCoy, Bob
Jockisch, Jay Ziznewski and Duane Pos-
kon—will team with rrAvBov All-Ameri-
can Kevin Hardy (who has been moved
from tackle to defensive end) and veteran
Eric Norri to give the Irish a front
defensive line that will average over 265
pounds. New linebacker Bob Olson will
take up much of the slack left by depart-
ed Jim Lynch, and soph tackles Charles
Kennedy and Terry Brennan (no rela-
tion) will add heft to the offensive line.
But the bright spot in the Irish autumnal
landscape is the aerial attack, which ме
predict will be the most explosive in the
history of college football Coach Ara
Parseghian himself, who always has an
uncommon and refreshing lack of
deviousness about his team's prospects,
tells us frankly that his air attack will
play havoc with opposing defenses. Terry
Hanratty and Coley O'Brien, who will
alternate at quarterback, are both All-
America caliber, and the Irish have so
many outstanding receivers that the
passers may go buggy deciding to whom
to throw. The biggest threat to Irish for-
tunes is the schedule. Last year’s team
ed only three squads that were even
vaguely in their cl; but this season, no
fewer than six opponents are brimming
with power and will give the Irish a
bloody scrap. The Miami game ш the
end of the season should be the Game of
the Year.

Michigan State will also field a devas.
tating offense, but the Spartans will be
more earth-bound than the Irish. Quar-
terback Jimmy Raye is a brilliant execu-
tor of the pass-run option; and if fullback
Bob Apisa’s knee surgery is successful
and if snazzy new halfback LaMarr
‘Thomas comes through as expected, the
Spartans will be as nearly unstoppable as
last year. The defense, however, is an-
other story. Soph tackle Tody Smith may
help fill some of the vacuum left by
the departure of his brother Bubba (not
to mention George Webster, Charley
Thornhill and two other defensive first-
stringers); but stopping the other team
may be the big problem in East Lansing
this year.

Another important factor affects Spar-
tan prospects: Last year Purdue was the
only Big Ten team whose power even
approached that of Michigz
this year, Illinois is really loaded, Wis-
consin and Minnesota are tremendously
improved and Purdue looks just as
strong, despite the loss of Bob Griese.
Before the fust kickoff, Illinois looks
like the class of the Big Ten, Contrary to
popular belief, the now-infamous slush-
fund scandal hasn't hurt the Illini at all.
On the contrary; it has left them with
a strong emotional impetus. New coach
Jim Valek is a shrewdie and he inherits
а squad that is deep, experienced, tal
ented, big and bu with a desire for
vindication. The Illini have enough good
runners to populate three Big Ten
backfields. In fact, last year's first-sering
fullback, Carson Brooks, is being shifted
to defensive guard. The sophomore crop
is the best in memory and many of last
year’s returning starters may lose their
jobs to rookies. If Valek can find a good
outside speedster who can turn the cor-
ner (soph Dave Jackson may be the
т) the Illini will have по apparent
d should be virtually un-

Purdue fans who expect Bob Griese's
departure to trigger a team collapse can
stop holding their collective breath. "The
entire defensive unit is back intact; four
of the top five runners and three of the
four top receivers return; and new quar-
terbacks Mike Engelbrecht and Mike
Phipps are first-class, кълүвоу AllAmcri-
ca halfback Leroy Keyes can do every
thing, including pass, and he will again
play both ways. If last year's undefeated
freshman team can furnish enough talent
to shore up the pass defense (a fatal flaw.
that cost the Boilermakers the "66 game
with Notre Dame), very few teams will
сто the Purdue goal line.

Look out for Wisconsin. After three
years of brooding and building, the
Badgers are about to break out. New
coach John Goatta inherits a hungry and
talented squad that was much better
season’s three wins would seem
ate. Rookies Mel Reddick at end
id Stu Voigt ar halfback are two of
the most exciting players to grace the
Madison milieu in 20 years. The Badger
receivers should be spectacular and
Chuck Burt will again be the top throw.
er, with two good replacements waiting
in the wings. The most serious gradua
tion inroads were in the interior lines,
but the replacements are grade A. With
all this in mind, we nominate Wisconsin
as our out-on-a-limb surprise team of the
year.

Minnesota is bulging with muscle.
Lack of success lust season was attribut-
able to an impotent offense; but the
quarterbacking will be greatly improved
and new runners Jeff Nygren and Jim
Carter will add much muzzle velocity to

(continued on page 240)

testimony in the proceedings concerning
edward darwin Caparell i. By KENW PURDY

they called him mad, but was there not a certain logic and a form
of justice in his methodical creation of a personal secret weapon?

Lucas stiver: I always thought Ed was a real stable fellow, steady, even-going, you
know; but I think now I was just a victim of the common delusion that the stolid,
quiet type of character never goes off the track. I've learned a lot listening to Dr.
Pike's testimony here and, looking back, I can see things that should have meant
more to me at the time they happened. Like one real cold morning last winter, we
came out of Grand Central together. It was a brutal day, about 15 degrees below,
and blowing hard, lots of snow. When we got to the building it was ten o'clock and
there was nobody else in the elevator. Ed hit the sc button and it lit up and then he
hit the voor cLose button. Nothing happened, of course, (continued on page 160)

ILLUSTRATION BY GENE SZAFRAN

\ ; } а plenitude of casy - does - it

Appurtenances for keeping the beerd at bay: 1. Selektranic 500
cord/cordless shaver with rechorger and case, by Remington,
abaut $40. 2. Rechargeable cordless shaver, by Ronson, $44.95.
3. Acme shaving mirror with light, from Abercrombie & Fitch,
$27.50. 4. Braggi pre-shave beard softener, 3 ozs., by Revlon,
$2.50. 5. Braggi skin-conditioning cream, З ozs., by Revlon, $5.
6. Revenescence ofter-shave astringent, 2 ozs., by Charles of the
Ritz, $6.50. 7. Leather travel kit includes razor and blades, from
Hoffritz, $7.95. B. Floris shaving зоор bowl, 2! Ibs., from
Caswell-Massey, $17.50. 9. Blac Hyalin antiseptic, fram Caswell-
Mossey, $1. 10. Chickman shave stick, from Hoffritz, $1. 11.
Chrome hot-lather dispenser, by Shane Engineering, $24.95. 12.
Brut after-shave balm, 4% ozs, by Fabergé, $5. 13. Aerosol
shave lather, 11 ozs., by Wilkinson Sword, $1.19. 14. Pre-electric
lotion, 4 ozs., $3.75, and special shave formula, б ozs., $3.50,
bath by Aramis. 15. Braggi cake talc with case ond applicator,

paraphernalia for big shavers

1% ozs., by Revlon, $4.50. 16. Badger shave brush for travel,
from Hoffritz, $B.50. 17. Badger shave brush, from Abercrombie
& Fitch, $25, on Lucite brush stand, from Caswell-Massey, $2.75.
1B. Royall Lyme shave зоор in muc, from Abercrombie & Fitch,
$10.50. 19. Personna stainless-steel razor, by American Safety
Razor, about $1. 20. Henckels straight razor, from Abercrambie
& Fitch, $11.95. 21. Fougére Royal shave stick, from Caswell-
Massey, $3. 22. Henckels razor strop, from Abercrombie & Fitch,
$11.50. 23. Payer-Lux Gigant electric shaver, from Write Shops,
Inc, $19.95. 24. Hand-wound Riviera shaver, from Haverhill’,
$16.95. 25. Current converter, from Hoffritz, $B.50. 26. Signo-
ricci Cremollient cream lotion. 2 ozs., by Nina Ricci, $3.50. 27.
Amazing, a blade lubricant, by Hazel Bishop, 98¢. 28. Euxesis
latherless shave cream, 3 ozs., from Caswell-Massey, $1.25. 29.
Gold-plated vibrating safety razor slices whiskers, by Stahly,
$35. 30. Portable Mini-Shaver, by Roller Mini-Shaver, $6.95.

x

PHOTOGRAPH BY ALEXAS UREA tm E

PLAYBOY

“Your men will be down as soon as they cool off.”

PLEASE DON'T TALK
10 ME-IM:..——

learn the business

and rise to
the top—but how
was he to know that

the bottom
was covered with
ladies bags?

fiction By ROBERT KAUFMAN А graying, rather
pudgy, casually dressed (expensive black-cashmere sports jacket
and lightgray slacks) executive in his late 40s sat behind the
large period desk. His name was Mr. Gelber. His hands were
folded. He was smiling.

“Bill De Costa was telling me," he began, "that he had a
nice chat with you alter lunch, Perry. Now, let's see —ah- so
you'd like to work for Zander's?"
ly would, gee, like to,” 1 bubbled enthusi

when I saw the ad in the morning Times, I said
to myself, ‘I can't believe it—I just can't believe й. An oppor-
tunity like this, I'd bener get there right away. Why, there'll
easily be a line twice around the block. "

Not quite," he grinned, stretching, and biting off the end of
а long brown ci

if you could give me a chance to show you
and the company what 1 could do—how much I'd appreciate
that opportunity, how hard I'd work to prove myself
executive merchand ze that in the beginn
ir ll be tough sledding,” | said, pouring it on.

“How do you know this, Perry?” he asked.

“Well. sir, in the half hour I had between seeing Mr. De
Сома and you, three to threethirty, well, sir, and I hope you
won't think badly of me—but I sort of surveyed the operation
here. First, I watched the employees. Then I studied as much
of your complicated modus operandi as 1 could and, sir, to tell
you the truth, I liked what I saw. 1 really did!" From three to
three-thirty E had had a quick eggsalad sandwich at the Malt
House.

Mr. Gelber fingered the long brown cigar.

“You're quite an enthusiastic young man, Perry."
ir, I want to be,” 1 began, summing up, a little out of
control but completely determined. "I want to be an executive
merchandising trainee here at Zander's It's something I've
wanted my whole adult life.” And you know how long that's
bee:

"Perry," he said, blowing smoke in my eyes, "Ed like you to
come back at four-thirty and talk with Mr. Zander. His office is
penthouse B. All right?" For a moment my face dropped.
Another interview? Jesus Christ! But there was no stopping
low.

Sir,” 1 told him, standing up and holding out my hand, “you
don't know how much I appreciate your interest in my career.
"Thank you.”

s been a pleasure me

you, Perry," Mr. Gelber re-
plied, shaking my hand. “Its unfortunate there's not more men
ang men, I mean, like you around today."

" I said. Remind (continued on page 214)

—morc у
“Thank you, sir,

PHOTOGRAPHY BY CURT GUNTHER

September Playmate Angela Dorian is a well-structured beauty with a unique talent for projecting her personality in any medium,
whether she's acting, dancing, singing, sketching or simply gracing a divan with her presence. Opposite page: With the expertise in cos-
metics only a professional actress could have, Angela readies herself for a characteristically busy day. After а preparatory phone
call, she confers with her agents, Arthur Kennard and Merrit Blake, about the advantages and disadvantages of a part in a proposed movie.

multitalented to actress angela dorian—now
a budding screen star—likes to sing,
dance, sketch and drive racing cars

GEM

ШЕ

WHEN NEWTON MINOW, former FCC chairman, made
the trenchant observation that ТУ was a wasteland, it's
а cinch he wasn't thinking of Angela Dorian, our Sep
tember Playmate, "Though she agrees with Minow
about. th nality of TV (she doesn't own а
set), Angela's an cstablished television actress, a veteran

general 1

of 26 shows—including Bonanza, The Man [rom
U. N.C.L. E
Valley, Hogan's Heroes—who doesn't even have to read
for parts. Currently, though, Angela's in the process of
making her transition to the 1
summer, she made her cinema debut as a costar in
Chuka, a rough-and-tumble Western featuring Rod
Taylor and Ernest Borgnine. "In TV," the former
UCLA coed avers, “you have to get things perfect in a
hurry; but when you're making a film, you have more
time—and you get more attention. Acting for TV isgreat
preparation for the movies.” The articulate Miss Dorian

‚ Perry Mason, Run for Your Life, Big

er screen: This past

At the Los Angeles Times’ annual races ot Riverside, cor buff Angela surveys the
scene, then assists some car pushers before stationing herself ot the rail—ta the
ather bystanders’ delight. Below: In the pit, a preaccupied Miss Dorian stonds
with back to famed driver Grohom Hill, the mustachiaed gent in the helmet.

is a wellrounded (36-21-35) artist—a jazz and ballet danci
writer, singer and guitar player in the folk-rock bag (at presstime,
negotiations for a recording contract were under way) and an occasion-
al graphic artist, specializing in ink sketches. Miss September's song-
writing, she told us, evolved from a prior interest in language,
spedfically that of poetry: "I just began setting my verses to music."
She did her own singing—a Spanish folk song—on one Big Valley seg-
ment; early in her carcer, on her agents’ advice, she dedined to dub
for Natalie Wood as Maria in West Side Story: "I auditioned for the
part myself, but they didn't think I was box office—and 1 didn’t want
to get hung up in а stand-by role.” The nonsinging part of Lolita in the
same-name motion picture was also considered—and bypassed—by
Angela, who didn't feel ready to capitalize on herself as a nymphet.
When Angela finds time to fill up a sketch pad, she calls on old Sol for
inspiration: "I'm crazy about the sun. It's so impossibly ancient, warm
and beautiful. I keep the wall over my fireplace covered with images and
replicas of the sun. There's one that I carved out of wood and anoth-
cr that 1 made of papier-máché. It’s a big joke among my friends.” Sun

With a friend, Angela examines the exotic wores displayed along Ol-
vera Street, the heart of L.A.’s colorful “Little Mexico.” Next evening,
she displays her terpsichorean savvy at the Cheeiah in Venice.

worship isn't the only mystical preoccupation of this 22-year-old
Thespian, who's steeped in star lore and who believes in reincar-
nation: “In one of my former lives, I must have been a cat,
because when I purse my lips I can pass for one. I also purr like
а cat" A more prosaic side of Angela's many.splendored life is
her career as a landlady. She owns and rents out a duplex in
Burbank, whose tenants are blissfully unaware of her star status;
but although she delights in such round-the-house chores as
gardening ("Тоо many people today are afraid to bend over and
touch the earth"), Angela plans to sell the property: “It gives me
too many headaches.” When she’s not fussing over her building
or pursuing one of her myriad muses, Angela digs burning up
the road in her newly acquired Porsche or her second car,
Sprite ("I like to get behind the wheel and just travel—to Mon-
terey, Carmel or San Francisco”); she’s had the experience, thanks
to a friend who races at Santa Barbara, of winging around the
k herself а few times. Her affection for life on wheels, however.
doesn’t embrace the antisocial aspects of motorcyding. Angela,

le to choose her own

whose idea of success includes being
movie parts, recently refused a role in a motorcyde epic because

she felt the character was too “hard Important as my career is
to me," she explained, "I'm a woman first. 1 like to think of
myself as being open to the world, brimming with love and
music. Some aspiring actresses think only of their careers, and
they're just setting themselves up for eventual disappointments.”
herself, matured under the spell of show business: Her

native of Rome, is a former Broadway actress who's

still active as a club singer in the Sunset Boulevard environs; her
father, who was born in Sicily, is an L.A. restaurateur. Angela
admits a desire to live and make films in Italy: “I'm fluent in
Italian, so the language wouldn't be any problem. I also feel
that European movies are generally better than Hollywood's
offerings.” We wish Angela the best in such enterprises, as well
as in her search for the ideal male. “I don’t really believe there
is such a person, but I'm looking for him anyway," she declares
—an affirmation that we're sure will give heart to our readers.

PLAY BOY'S PARTY JOKES

The woman was enthusiastic over psychoanalysis
and confided to a friend that she had under-
gone therapy. “You never knew this,” she said,
"but for years 1 was under the delusion that I
was a fox terrier."

"And now you're completely cured?" asked
the friend.

“That's right,” said the woman proudly.
“Just feel my nose."

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines two as
company, three as a crowd and four as a wife-
swapping party.

A fashion expert we know tells us that mini-
skirts are really quite functional, because they,
enable girls to run faster—and when they
wear them, they have to.

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines hymen as
a greeting to male companions.

Then there's the fast-rising executive who, on
entering his newly decorated office, had his
secretary on the carpet because she forgot to
order a couch.

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines chestnut as
a man who is crazy about well-developed
females,

A young college student appeared at his draft
board one morning wrapped in the Stars and
Stripes. As he entered, he proclaimed at the
top of his lungs,

apers later! I don’t

a uniform, basic
training, guns or anything! Just lemme at the
enemy! I'll kill them with my bare hands! If
they shoot me, I'll get up and keep on going!
ТЇ rip their barbed уйе... ТИГС”

‘The draft-board examiner looked at him and
said, "You're crazy."

То which the student replied, "Write that
down! Write that downl"

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines bad trip as
add indigestion.

The boor tapped on the sleeping parakeet's
cage and said, “Hey, birdie, can you talk?"
"Sure," said the bird, "can you Ву?"

After 20 years of marriage, a couple decided
upon an amicable divorce. To celebrate the
granting of the decree, they dined out together.
After the third glass of champagne, the
husband confessed: “There's one thing I've al-
ways wanted to ask you, but I never had the
nerve. Now that we're splitting up, your an-
swer can't possibly hurt me, so please be hon-
est. Why is it that five of our six children have
black hair, but little Tommy is a blond? Whose
child is Tommy, anyway?"

"I can't tell you,” said the wife after a long
pause. "It would hurt you too much."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," the husband in-
sisted. “I don't care who the father is. I'm just
curious.”

у, the wife acquiesced: “Well, if you
really want to know, Tommy is your child.”

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines bar stool
as what Daniel Boone stepped in.

cried the girl centipede crossing her legs,
A thousand times, no!”

A knowledgeable friend of ours informs us
that when a girl tells her boyfriend she’s a per-
fect 38, she should expect him to grasp what
she's talking about.

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines man hater
as a girl who makes love with her eyes closed
—because she can't stand to see a guy having
a good time.

The harried stockbroker was suffering from in-
somnia, never got to sleep before dawn, then
slept right through the alarm and so never
made it to the office on time. Upon being repri-
manded by his boss, he decided to consult a
doctor. The doctor gave him some sleeping
pills, and that night he fell asleep immediately
and experienced a pleasant rest. In the morn-

g. he awoke before the alarm rang, jumped
out of bed with new verve and vigor. When he
arrived at his office promptly, he told his boss:
“Those pills I got from my doctor really work.
had no trouble at all waking up this morning."

“That's nice,” the boss replied. "But, where
were you yesterday?”

Heard а good one lately? Send it on а post-
card to Рату Jokes Editor, ptavnoy, Playboy
Building, 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago,
Ш. 60611, and earn $50 for each joke used.
In case of duplicates, payment is made for
first card received. Jokes cannot be returned.

у = | سيا‎

чо»

136

youth-the oppressed majority

denigrated, disenfranchised and put upon by police, parents and a consciousness-
constricting educational system, the under-25 generation is sealed off from society

article DY Wat MENON ro мозг routs who read

about it, the analogy must have seemed preposterous.
Here was John Lindsay, the mayor of New York, ac
tually telling a group of Princeton undergraduates last
November that they were like black youngsters in a
ghetto. “The distance between these groups—education-
ally, cconomically, socially—has certain psychological
bridges,” he said. “The frustration of the sophomore
alienated from his university by its size and imperson-
ality is not very much different from the resentment of
the ghetto youth who is alienated from his city because
its opportunities and rewards are foreclosed to him.
Both suffer the malady of powerlessness—powerlessness
in the face of huge, authoritarian institutions that
routinely cause fundamental dislocations in the lives of
the people they allect each day."

‘The young powerless? According to Al Capp, J-
Hoover, editorial writers for The New York Time
practically any parent, the trouble with the young—the

poor dutifully excepted—is that they have too much
power. They are self-indulgent, willful and more dis
respectful of their elders than any previous generation
of adolescents. Accordingly, they must be curbed and
pared for “responsibility.” for unfortunately, they
will inherit the earth. The more the young rebel, the
more firmly they must be suppressed; for is it not the
obligation of their elders to make certain that the young
grow up into replicas of (ћете!
not, what meaning

If the young do
there been in the lives of their
nts? “We must die," say the old, not really believing

"but at least the values we lived by will remain.”
And it is there that the dissident among the young
make their attack: the values of those responsible for so-
ciety as it is. In December 1906, Ray Mungo, then editor
of the student-run Boston University News, wrote, under
the head “BLACK cuRisrMas": “We are nothing if not
an educational institution, and yet our graduates tend
to fall, unquestioningly, into the same narrow sphere of

DRAWINGS BY SEYMDUR RDSDFSKY

sive self-interest in which most men move. And
even this self-interest does not pervade the self; we know
ourselves as little as we know others. . So we do not
examine our OWA sexuality) ус уоп study! the history
of China and we're unspeakably cold to murder by the
thousands in Vietnam. We have ceased functioning as
human beings capable of some sympathies beyond our
own offices . .. our Beauty is an idealized Beauty rather
than the one we'd joyously climb on and inseminate.”

That's one skirmish in the generational war. Others
of the young do not attack at all but try to remain
private. “It goes beyond your class or the color of your
skin," a wiry Indian girl from Maine declares. “It’s the
color of your mind they want to control. They want you
preprocessed before you can have what they call autono-
my. But they won't get me.” Lines are continually being
drawn by the young to preserve what they can of their
youth of dress, of wearing hair, of music, of
speech. But most Jearn that in terms of ig the most
basic decisions about their lives, they are indeed without
power. “Adolescents,” writes sociologist Edgar Z. Frieden-
berg, “are among the last social groups in the world to
be given the full 19th Century Colonial treatment."

One way to measure this society's altitude toward the
young is their status in the courts. In many states, juve-
niles accused of breaking the law are deprived of such

sential elements of due process as the right to appeal,
access to records, the right to tial by jury and even the
right to make bail. The rationale ts that the proceedings
are not “criminal” in nature, since they take place in a
civil court and besides are intended to “protect” the
young. However, juvenile courts do have the power to
confine the adolescent or administer other punishment.
And as many as one fourth of the young who are
confined are placed in adult jails.

“The police harass the ‘oddball’ and the “disrespectful.” *

Some progress toward applying constitutional guaran-
tees to juveniles was made last May in a landmark
decision by the Supreme Court, which ruled that the
young must at least be given notification of the right to
counsel, who, if necessary, will be appointed by the
court; the right to confront and cross-examine witne:
including complainants; warning ol the privilege
sell-incrimination and the right to remain silent;
timely notice of the charges against them. The cas
before the Court involved a 15-year-old accused of mak-
ing obscene phone calls. The juvenile-court judge, with-
out informing the adolescent of his constitutional rights
and without giving him a chance to confront his accuser,

sent him away lor six years to a state training school. The
sentence was upheld by Arizona's highest court, then was
reversed by the U. 5. Supreme Court.

Although Ju ,

ty, noted that

ice Abe Fori ing for the majori-
it would, indeed, be surprising il the
nst self-inc were available to
hardened criminals but not to children," the courtroom
reforms introduced by the Justice still omit a number of
other basic constitutional guarantees—from the right to
bail to the right of appeal. Furthermore, as Fred P.
Graham noted in The New York Times, "Experience
has demonstrated . . . that merely informing a child's
parents that counsel will be provided upon request . . .
will not bring many lawyers into juvenile courts. In the
District. of Columbia, where free counsel has been
offered, between 85 and 90 percent of the parents Have
waived their children’s rights to legal assistance. By
comparison, when adults are defendants in felony cases,
approximately the same percentage—85 to 90 percent

—accept assigned counsel for themsely

Nor does the new Supreme Court decision alfect how
adolescents are treated by police—before they come to

“We know ourselves as little as we know others . . .””

PLAYBOY

138

court, Juveniles аге still not protected,
for example, from self-incrimination in
police interrogation. And in other re-
spects as well, their position as colonials
in the way they are treated by the police
in most communities will undoubtedly
remain the same for the foreseeable fu-
turc. Since police attitudes are consonant
with how most adults feel about the
young, cops regularly roust not only
teenagers in black ghettos but also white
middle-class youngsters who dress, talk
d otherwise disport themselves in a
"er considered “oddball,” "rebel.
lious" or “disrespectful.”

For more than a year, Los Angeles po-
lice have not only established а ten-P.M.
curfew for those under 18 on Holly-
wood's Sunset Strip but they frequently
arrest any adolescent who "appears"
rowdy or who "jaywalks." On November
28, 1966, The New York Times reported:
tonswinging armed officers marched
shoulder to shoulder down Sunset Boule-
vard, the main artery, shoving the pro-
testers into side streets or clubbing them
to the pavement. Those arrested were
often prodded with night sticks or re-
peatedly shoved to the ground before
being loaded into police buses" Had
this been instead a picket line of Negroes
protesting job discrimination, the:
lice abuses would have provoked Ісай
editorials in the press and statements of
concern by civic officials.

1n Chicago, during the first six months
of 1965, Peter Meyerson writes in. The
Young Americans, "a total of 10,660
teenagers were arrested for violations of
a curfew that, one youth lamented,
would be ‘martial law’ if applied to
adults.” In Philadelphia's Rittenhouse
Square, interracial groups of the young
with long hair, sandals and occasion
beards—though otherwise innocent of
breaches of the peace—are not allowed
to gather in groups of more than six, are
told where they can and cannot sit and
have been swept up indiscriminately in
“narcotics” raids. And in Jackson Square,
in New Orleans French Quarter, a
group of youngsters was sitting and sing.
ing on a Sunday last November. Sudden.
ly, 17 of them were hustled into a police
wagon. The charges: “littering and
creating а scene.”

A characteristic illustration of cavalier
police action against the young was de-
scribed in April 1966 by San Francisco
Chronicle columnist Ralph Gleason. He
had taken his children to hear the Paul
Buuerfield Blues Band at a dance on
the University of California campus in
Berkeley. Sometime after 11 P.M., Glea-
son discovered that two of his children
and three teenage girls who were their
guests had been confined to a first
floor office by campus police. The cops
claimed that under the contract with the
committee putting on the dance, every-

body under 16 who was not “in the cus
tody” of his parents had to be out of the
building by 11.

Gleason angrily produced the dance's
promoter and the contract, which had no
such provision. At that point, Gleason
recalls, “a policeman magnanimously
said, ‘You may go, enjoy yourself” Then
he added to me, ‘Keep the children from
running around the corridors. It's dan-
gerous and they may be bumped into by
an adult and hurt.’ ‘You are the only
adult that endangers them,’ 1 told him.
"You put them in a locked room.'" That
same night, an 18-year-old, just as he
was taking his jacket from the check-
room, had it snatched from him by a
cop, who went through his pockets. "Just
wanted to sce," the representative of the
law said, “if you had anything.” “And
we wonder,” Gleason notes, “why youth
is losing its respect for authori

With minimal rights on the streets, the
young have even fewer rights in the
Schools, where they spend most of their
time. In fact, the length of confinement
of the young in a classroom has been
steadily increasing. Around 1900, only
about six percent of American youth
hed high school. Today, 70 percent
of the nearly 18,000,000 between 13
and 17 are graduated. Until the Second
World War, only a minority went on to
college. Now, nearly half of each high
school graduating class moves into a
college population of 6,000,000.

It is in the schools that adult compres-
sion of the young is most insistent, most
pervasive and—in terms of the final
product—most terrifying. In his book
How Children Fail, which is about upper-
middleclass, not slum, schools, John
Holt documents his contention that, ex:
cept for а handful, almost all children
who arc processed through American
schools “fail to develop more than a tiny
part of the tremendous capacity for
learning. understanding and creating
with which they were born and of which
they made full use during the first two or
three years of their lives.”

To begin with, they are often treated
as if spontaneity were subversive to the
processes of education. Too many dass-
rooms and too many halls in the schools
are deadly quiet. Trust, moreover, is not
for the young. It is not uncommon for
adult spies to be placed in the bathrooms
of high schools. There are classrooms
with two-way P. A. systems, so that func-
tionaries can listen in to what's going on.

Principals, running their schools like
authoritarian dukedoms, issue edicts of
stunning and usually irreversible absurd-
ity. The principal of University High
School in Los Angeles, for instance,
ordered an 18-year-old from Uruguay, who
has always worn his hair long, to cut it
forthwith. When he refused, the prindpal
had him arrested. In jail, the irrepress
ble criminal began to sing. This failure
to be penitent, this resiliency before

adult power, compelled the police to
choke him, punch him and handcuff him.

Other punitive measures аге increas-
ingly taken against those who choose to
wear their hair long—a form of rejection
of "proper" (that is, mass) behavior that
particularly enrages adults. In Oyster
Bay, Long Island, some months ago, five
high school students were quarantined
on a scparate floor—called "the zoo" by
their fellow inmates—and denied water
as long as they refused haircuts.

In reaction to this and to similar stern
pronundamentos by principals who
equate conformity with responsibility,
Marya Mannes observed in The New
York Times that so oversized an emo-
tional reaction by adults “may be more a
sign of our own rigidity than of [the
students] folly; one more example of a
society grown set in its ways; resistant to
change, hostile to difference." To which
The New Yorker added: "It may be that
smooth chins, cheeks and skulls repre-
sent to us something preciously modern
—smoothness as an ideal, man as inter-
dıangeable, frictionless—and that all
this bristling and flowing going on
around us threatens 10 gum up the ma-
chine. Well, is the machine really that
fragile? And was it designed to be eter-
nal? We were furry primates before we
were robots.”

There is pathos as well as obtuseness
in the nearly hysterical antipathy of
many adults, in and out of schools, to
long hair on young men. They are dis-
turbed by the nerve, the sheer nerve, of
those who defy smoothness as an ideal.
Their own smoothness of morals, of sex-
ual response, of attenuated life goals are
also called into question by this luxu-
riance of hair and the other sensual
connotes. One such long-
bearded youngster, drummer
Bobby Moses of the Frec Spirits, а rock
group, was ambling along a street on
New Yorks Lower East Side when
middle-aged stranger, in а suit and tie,
stopped, stared and. his face contorted,
"In two months you're going to
Vietnam and you're going to be
^ Moses looked at him coolly and
. "Listen, mister, the only reason
you're complaining
and you're going to die before 1 do."

Jn other ways besides preori
hair styles, the you school are pre-
pared for “responsibility” by being al-
lowed hardly any. High school and
many college newspapers are rigorously
—often bizarrely—censored. Controver
sial speakers are not invited. Student
protests are squashed. At Cass Technical
High School in репой. a 17-year-old

i nal Merit Schol
arship competition had been forced to
cut his hair on pain of permanent sus
pension from school. Later, when he and
three other students wore black arm
bands to protest the school’s observance

(continued on page 188)

BACK

TO CAMPUS

our annual autumnal survey of classic revivals and new directions for the academic year

attire By ROBERT L. GREEN
ONCE AGAIN, collegians from coast to coast
are confronted with a pleasantly м
decision: what clothes should be pur
chased and w ones should be parted
with prior to convening at the campus of
their choice. For even though most schools
spawn a spate of stylish fads and foibles
that are as locally acceptable as they are
unpredictable, fashion-conscious students
still give national and regional clothing
norms the nod when filling the sartorial
holes in their wardrobe collections.

To help both Hedgling frosh and sophis-

ticated (text continued on page 144)

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA: Berkeley's Chemical Biodynamics Lab is background
for five guys [опа two able-bodied assistants) adept at sartorial science. Circling from
left to right; John Rice gets a helping hand from Penny Almquist while wearing о bold-
plaid wool, nylon and mohair double-breasted Mackinaw jacket, by Fox-Knapp, $45,
aver a fisherman’s-knit warsted crew-neck pullover, by Alps, $20, and Fortrel and cot.
ton slacks, by Master, $7. Bearded student Al Ortiz likes a woal twill crew-neck pull-
over, by Himalaya, $25, worn with Fortrel and cotton cavalry twill slacks, by Carwood,
$7. Comely distractianist Delanie Secoe fails to phase either Mark Silliphant or Larry
Jones; Mark has donned a waol flannel dauble-breosted shaped suit, by McGregar,
$75, over his Shetland turtleneck, by Colalina-Martin, $14; Larry prefers а wool twill
coordinated suit that includes a wide-track stripe jacket and minichecked slacks, by
Cricketer, $70, plus cotton broadcloth shirt, by Excello, $10, ond о wide silk tie, by
Prince Igor, $5. Seated up frant: George Eckard digs a lambskin shearling flying jacket,

by McGregor, $75, and a Shetland and Kodel mock turtleneck, by Brentwood, $1B. 139

DUKE UNIVERSITY: Students in the
Georgian-inspired Mary Baldwin Auditori-
um, left, sartorially upstage less fashicn-
conscious campusmates. From left to right:
Jerry Severson has chosen a Dacron and
cotton poplin jacket with wool plaid lin-
ing, $33, matching wool plaid slacks, $18,
and a Shetland crew-neck pullover, $16,
all by McGregor. Don Grasso relaxes in
a worsted glen-plaid shaped suit with
vest, by PBM, $90, worn over a cotton
oxford buttondown shirt, by Manhattan,
$5, and a woven wool tie, by Taylor, $3
Pete Schafer is strong for a wool twill
double-breasted coat with acrylic pile
lining, by Fox-Knapp, $30. Richard Saun-
ders has on a plaid pattemed Acrilan
crew-neck pullover, Бу: Brentwood, $15,
coupled with cotton and acetate herring-
bone tweed jeans, by Contact, $10. Steve
Gross keeps casual in a wool tweed
windowpane-overplaid sports jacket with
matching vest that coordinates with
worsted-weave slacks, all by College
Hall, $90, wom over a cotton denim
buttondown shirt, by Sero, $B.50, and a
woven wool tie, by Taylor, $3. W. T.
Smith favors a worsted flannel suit, by
College Hall, $85, a cotton broadcloth
shirt with contrasting collar, by Excello,
$10, and a silk tie, by Prince Igor, $7.50.

DARTMOUTH COLLEGE: The Sanborn
House library is home for five knowl-
edgeable Ivy Leaguers who've earned
top-drawer grades by wisely rounding out
their campus wardrobes. On the balcony,
left to right: Tony Amriati sports a cabled-
wool high-crew-neck pullover, by Alps,
$30, and Orlon, cotton and acetate twill
jeans, by Contact, $10. Sportive student
David Cross, has selected a reverse-check
and overplaid Scottish lamb’s-wool shaped
suit, by Fashion Park, $135, that comple-
ments his cotton chambray shirt, by Wren,
$8.50, and silk twill tie, by Hut, $4. Down-
stairs, left to right: Bill Swift has donned
a polyester and Viscose twill double-
breasted suit, by Clinton Swan, $70, a
striped cotton chambray shirt, by Hatha-
way, $10, and a wide cotton: tie, by
Taylor, $3.50. Roger Grimes goes for a
cashmere and Scottish wool two-button
shaped sports jacket, by Clubman, $65,
Orlon and wool twill cord slacks, by Es-
quire, $20, a striped cotton broadcloth

, by Excello, $12, and a wide cotton
tie, by Taylor, $3.50. Tom Stuver is cas.
vally au courant in а cotton duck hooded
coat with acrylic pile lining, $20, worn
over matching colton duck ski jeans, $9,
both by Carhartt, ond an Orlon bulky-
knit mock turtleneck, by Forum, $16

UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN: A well-appointed crew of Midwestern students congregates inside the campus boathouse. From
left to right: Frank Neumann has donned an antelope-suede double-breasted outercoot, by Cortefiel, $150, over Fortrel and

cotton jeans, by Contact, $9, and Acrilan and Spandex turtleneck, by Forum, $13. Accompanied by friend Deborah Kearns, Jack
Goggin has on wool tweed sports jacket, overplaid wool slacks and matching vest, all by Cricketeer, $75, worn with poly-
ester and cotton oxford shirt, by Gant, $9, and silk tie, by Resilio, $5. Peter Behnke stands toll in pile-lined corduroy jacket, by
Sir Jac, $17, worn over corduroy jeans, by Levi's, $6, and fisherman's-knit crew-neck pullover, by Robert Bruce, $16. Framed between
Diane Davidson and blonde Bo Bussmann, Bob McMillan cools it while wearing Norwegian wool and Kodel crew-neck pullover,
by Alps, $20, ond Dacron and wool slacks, by Jaymar-Ruby, $1B. Dale Geiger prefers worsted twill sports jacket, $100,
plaid worsted slacks, $40, both by Fashion Park, cotton oxford shirt, by Sero, $7.50, and cotton turtleneck, by Robert Reis, $3.

UNIVERSITY OF HOUSTON: The University Center's enclosed patio showcases collegians sporting the latest Southwest styles.
Clockwise from smiling Ray Tatum, who likes a Scottish wool suit with windowpane overplaid, by Fashion Park, $135, worn with a
cotton broadcloth shirt, by Excello, $12, and a silk tie, $7.50, and matching pocket square, $4, both by John Weitz. Carlos Guerra
goes for a checked wool sports jacket with matching wool vest, $65 the pair, wool hopsack slacks, $24, all by Worsted-Tex, a cotton
broadcloth shirt, by Aetna, $6, and a wool tie, by Hut, $5. Taking steps with Marilyn Harris and Ellie Coughtry, Bob Livermore wears
а wool V-neck pullover, by Forum, $17, спа wool and Orlon slacks, by YMM, $20. Bob Britt has set his sights on о cotlon duck
oviercoat, by Carhartt, $18, а wool and mohair turtleneck, by Himalaya, $25, and wool slacks, by Austin-Hill, $24. Wilbert Taylor
digs a wool plaid ошегсоо!, by Robert Lewis, $45, a Shetland turtleneck, by Himalaya, $15, and acrylic and wool slacks, by

YMM, $18. Seated: Gene Milbourn likes a wool melton c.p.o. shirt, by H.I.S., $20, and Fortrel and corduroy jeans, by Master, $7. 143

PLAYBOY

seniors select the right apparel for the
coming academic year, here once again
is our annual back-to-campus check list
of standout garb for undergrads (and
grad students, too). This year, as in the
past, we've divided it into two sections;
first comes a brief all-campus guide listing
the basic wardrobe requirements plus in-
formation on fabrics, patterns, styles, etc.
While checking it over, keep in mind
that even though two tweed sports jackets
аге a respectable minimum ас colder-
clime campuses, those of you studying in
sunny Southern California may wish to
stock up on coat styles that are slightly
lighter in weight. The second portion of
our syllabus narrows the fashion field con-
siderably. It presents a regional rundown
of five geographic areas—the Northeast,
South, Midwest, Southwest and West
Coast—while concentrating on specific
items of apparel appropriate for these
particular sections of the country.

Here, for your sartorial edification, is
our basic wardrobe check list:

Suits (3): One dark solid wool with
vest, one hopsack and one medium-weight
glen plaid

Sports jackets (5): Two tweed sports
jackets in a bold pattern and rough tex-
ture and one lightweight model in a bold
plaid; one single-breasted blazer in bur-
gundy, black or olive and one navy-blue
double-breasted model.

Slacks (9): Choose fabrics according to
climate: dark and light solids in wool,
plaids and small checks, permanent press
denim jeans and poplins and bold
windowpanes and cavalry twills.

Dress shirts (12): Six buttondown ox-
fords in solids, wide-track stripes and
tattersall checks and six medium-spread
and/or tabs for on-the-town occasions.

Sport shirts (6): Include a solid hop-
sack plus stripes, prints, knits (in both
polo and mock turtleneck styles), wool
twills and cotton buttondowns.

Sweaters (6): Include lamb's wools,
Shetland crews, fisherman's knits, at least
one bulky turtleneck, a cardigan and a
cashmere V-neck.

Outerwear (5): One canvas duck or
suede stadium coat, one Western shear-
linglined. jacket in corduroy, one bold-
plaid c. p.o. shirt, one semi-chesterfield
ог polo overcoat and one trench or clas
style raincoat.

Shoes (6): One pair of plaintoe
bluchers, two pairs of wing tips (both
nd brown). one pair of loafers,
one pair of buckle slip-ons, plus miscel-
laneous tennis shoes and boots, as the
climate or activities demand.

Ties (12): Three inches is the minimum
width. Choose from foulards, challis, reps
and neat patterns.

Walk shorts (4): Include madras,
ens, hot-color corduroys and choppe
off denim
ormalwear (1): Make it a black,
ural-shoulder dinner jacket with semi-

144 peaked lapels or satin shawl collar.

Socks (10): At least five white crews
plus five black over-the-calf stretch styles.

Belts (6-8): Sever: wide leather
models with large brass buckle, a revers-
ible cloth-leather, a black alligator and
miscellaneous fabri

Gloves (2): An unlined black or brown
pair for dress and a rugged sheepskin or
cowhide for play.

Now that you know where you stand
in relation to the over-all collegiate
clothing average, strengthen the weak
spots in your wardrobe with selections
appropriate to the area in which you'll
be studying.

THE NORTHEASI: Once prime expo-
nents of conservative campus wear, Ivy
Leaguers have pulled a reverse fashion:
play and now affect a more casual—
but not sloppy—approach 10 classroom
clothing.

Suits: For evenings on the town, you'll
want a dark vested model in wool to
wear with a mediumspread-collar shirt
and a wide tie. Suit styles in a variety of
stripes and plaids are also making East
Coast fashion headlines. Keep in mind
that the shaped silhouette has become
a fashionable exception to the natural-
shoulder Ivy League look; the latest
shaped styles feature flap and ticket
pockets and deep side vents. Cavalry
twill is rapidly becoming a favorite fab-
ric for about-town wear as well as for
weekends in the country.

Sports kets: The classic double-
breasted blazer with side yents is an all-
campus must. Select one in navy blue
and, as your wardrobe demands, pick up
a singlebreasted model in burgundy or
olivc. You'll also want several bold-plaid
sports jackets in Shetlands and tweeds
for Т. С.1. Е. beer busts or early-fall foot.
ball Saturdays before the snow flies.

Slacks: Low-rise twill jeans with
Western pockets, Orlon and wool cords,
and denims and poplins are all popular.
A well-chosen selection of tattersall and
windowpane-patterned slacks will also
multiply the versatiliry of your crew,
V-neck and turtleneck sweater collectior
hirts: Oxford buttondowns in white
nd blue, as well as wide-track stripes,
plaids and checks, have the Eastern shirt
scene well buttoned up. However, the
well-dressed Playboy Man On Campus
will wish to include a few tab and
medium-spread collar styles and at least
onc tan or nutmeg-colored cotton cha
bray dress shirt that features a longer-
pointed collar and French cuffs.

Sweaters: Turtlenecks, crews and mock
turtlenecks in bulky-textured fisherman's
knits and slub-weave giant-cable wool
tweeds add stylish dimension to a North-
easterner’s sweater collection, Other top-
drawer choices include а lamb’s-wool
V-neck, a Shetland crew-neck and a light-
weight wool cardigan.

Outerwear: You'll need to pay extra
attention to this portion of your ward-
robe; the coming East Coast weather

be wet, windy and—above all
wintry. You'll want at least one rainc
with zipin lining for nippy latcfall days.
as well as an inexpensive cotton duck

hooded coat, a heavy wool c. p. o. sh

ski parka, several pilelined hiple
coats and a dark-colored overcoat
dress wear.

THE SOUTH: Gentlemen from Dixie
take pride in the fact that, traditionally
they're from the best-dressed collegiate
area in the country. So if fall finds you
headed South or Southeast, figure on
adding a few more dollars to your
clothing budget. Generally speaking,
classroom dress is casual and carefully
chosen; sports coats or sweaters and slacks
carn the top sartorial grades. Fraternity
tip: At many Southern schools, Greek
rush week takes on a conservative tone—
both hosts and guests usually do their
picking and choosing attired in su

Suits: For the aforementioned frater-
nity dark dress s
that will do double duty when plann;
an evening olf campus, a glen plaid
model with matching vest and one or two
lightweight worsteds in two. and three
button styles As an elegant change of
pace, budget permitting, pick up a
double-breasted worsted flannel shaped
suit to be worn with a solid-color or
contrasting-collared shirt and a three- to
three-and-one-half-inch-wide tie.

Sports jackets: When it comes to
clothing the student body, Southern ma
triculanis happily go to blazers. You'll
want at least two—a double-breasted
navyblue one and а single-breasted
style in burgundy or dark green. Weigh
sportsjacker selections against the cam.
pus climate. A herringbone tweed or
Shetland in a powerful plaid is just the
i ht for schools near the Mason
line. Deeper South, you can stick
with а medium-weight two-button shaped
sports jacket with deep side vents in dark
solid shades, pin stripes, bold plaids or a
hopsack wi and a lightweight model
in sprightly summer patterns.

Slacks: Slim-htting styles th

for

E

ї come

h a builtin bonus—a perman.
press—are the fashionable favorites.
Include several wash-and-wear pairs in

solid colors, а few lightweight patterned
models and a generous helping of low-
ise jeans that come with wide belts.
Shirts: Cotton polo
mock turtleneck cotton kı
worn as the casual complem
of low-rise jeans. However, shop around
before you buy; Southern stores abound
with a multitude of multihued offerings
in both short and long sleeves. Oxford
buttondowns are still the predominant
yle in dress shirts, but tab and
medium-spread collar models have gained
sartorial ground. Expand your stock of
white and blue buttondowns with а few
wide-track stripes and tattersall checks.
Sweaters: When Southern gentlemen
(continued on page 180)

allovers
s are usu
nt to а pair

fiction By ISAAC BASHEVIS SINGER
he would not
have dared
look at the countess
in other days,
i

Pol-
ish noblemen were hanged;
others—Count Wladislaw Jam-
polski among them—were ban
ished to Siberia. The czar's
soldiers led the count in chains
through the streets of Jampol,
the town that bore his name.
V Though it was dangeroi
% have anything to do with an
insurrectionist, the priest ap-
peared to administer a farewell
blessing, wearing his vestments
and holding a crucifix. Peasants
removed their caps; women
wept.
There was great excitement
j| when the count passed the
cluster of huts on the outskirts
( of the town, where the Jews
had only recently formed a
community of their own, known
locally as The Sands. Since
Jampol was still under the juris-
diction of the Church, Jews were
not permitted to live in the
city itself and had to pay a toll
for the privilege of entering it,
The residents of The Sands
2 were astonished by the bearing
of the aristocratic prisoner. The
count, with his wind-blown
white hair and mustache, his
jaunty stride, flushed face and
= unbuttoned [ur coat, with his
t at a rakish angle, seemed as
unconcerned as though he were
going off to a party.
Some weeks later, the town
crier, after summoning the
people of Jampol with his drum,
' read out an edict that had come
from St. Petersburg. The im-
perial decree announced the
| total confiscation of Count Jam-
Iski's estate except for the
land already divided among his
former serfs. Countess Maria
Jampolska was given six months
to vacate the ancestral manor.
Eventually it became known
(continued on page 200)

PAUL GIOVANOPOULOS.

145

146

PHOTOGRAPH BY ALEXAS URBA

the delectable duet
of hot soufflé and cold salad

strikes just the right note
of gustatory harmony \ | | ( H!
as summer swings into fall °

food By THOMAS MARIO ix EVERY COURMET'S ALMANAC, September is an interim month. Charcoal fires have
done their summer stint and the long season of pheasant, mallard duck and mountainous rib roasts is still in the
planning stage. Ас this special interval, nothing will hold a roomful of people as spellbound as the aroma of a huge
soufilé baking in the oven. And a hearty salad as a supplement will make the culinary coup well-nigh perfect
Soufilés are as French as the Champs-Elysées; Gallic gourmets. wiser than Americans, know better than to ear-

mark their soufflés for ladies’ literary luncheons. For the souflé, in its lofty estate, is as satisfying to the inward
man as the most sumptuous chafing dish.

A soufflé, which starts with an opulent

auce and egg yolks, is, in its infinite varieties, fortified with anything
from broccoli to ham to seafood. It's folded into whipped egg whites and baked. When you've mastered one, you have
the clue to all of them. The glory of the soufflé emanates from two main sources. The primary one is its melting
deliciousness—an inside so soft and inviting that you can't stop cating it until you've scraped every inch of the
crusty brown shell from the bottom and sides of the dish. The second is its suspense. You can feel certain when

PLAYBOY

you're waiting for a baked onion soup
to arrive that the cheese topping will
amply fill the top of the casserole, just as,
later on, you can be even more profound
ly sure that the oversize shell steak
ride proudly on its charred wooden
plank, But the huge golden crown of a
soufllé may fall, although the odds
against it are fantastically high. And this
dire possibility—remote though it is—is
likely 10 send guests into joyous raptures
every time a tour de force is brought to
the table intact. As a mater of actual
record, soufflés contract slightly after
standing on the dining table (а normal
phenomenon that doesn't harm them at
all), but they seldom do fall.

By tradition, most soufllés are baked
and served in round, fluted dishes with
concave bottoms. You should invest in
a set of three (from one- to two-quart
sizes) before you head for the oven. The
latest types are equipped with wicker
baskets into which the dishes nest com-
fortably without any threat to tabletops.
And if you've never made soufllés be-
fore and want to become a virtuoso, you
should have several dress rehearsals
before inviting an audience.

Of all myths about soufilés, the most
prevalent—that the opening of an oven
door for a quick look will cause your
haughty creation to topple—is the first bit
of nonsense to clear out of the beginner's
path. You сап open the oven door, wide
enough to look in, a half dozen times,
if you want to. From a practical stand-
point, it’s unnecessary. Toward the end
of the baking period, you should make
a routine check, just as you'd check a
roast. But unlike roasts. a soufflé should
always be well done. Almost all collapses
are due to underbaking rather than ove
baking. French chefs in hotels are notori
ous for deliberately courting disaster on
this point. They like their creations to be
so soft in the center that they're gooey—
almost like a thick sauce—rather than
delicately spongy. Now, а souflé with a
runny inside is like a building h col-
lapsible girders in the center. This is the
reason French chefs and others, who
paradoxically combine patience and im-

patience, will sometimes bake two or

three soufflés when one is ordered. If the
first one falls before the waiter reaches
the table, a second one will be ready and
primed for the race ten minutes later. All
of this anxiety is completely unnecessary
if you steadfastly remember to keep the
soufllé in the oven until it's not only
done but has reached a mite beyond
doneness. The dish is literally done when
its firm to the touch, if it doesn't indulge
in a jellylike wobble when moved. As
the soufflé approaches perfection, the top
will show a brown bloom. A decp-brown
bloom is best. If the top is cracked (chefs
induce a “сар” on the soufllé by running
a narrow spatula around the rim of the
soufllé before baking it), there should be

148 no moist spot whatever showing in the

cracked area, If you're ready to serve and
your guests haven't quite finished their
second round of martinis, rest easy. Re-
duce the oven temperature from the usual
350° to 250°; let the soufllé remain in
the oven for 5, 10 or 15 minutes longer.
here will be no catastrophe. Of course,
after a decent interval, your guests
should be seated. We seldom go for the
advice of the English gourmet Dr.
William Kitchiner, but there are special
occasions when his words, “better never
than late,” do make sense.
Since eggs are so vital in a soufMlé’s
success, heed this sober advice: When
separating yolks from whites, don't go
to a careless catchascatch-can rou
tine. Look each yolk firmly in the eye;
keep every trace of yolk out of the
whites, or the whites won't rise as they
should, into substantial clouds. The bowl
of the mixing machine in which you
whip the whites should be clean and
free of any droplet of grease. Both under-
beating and overbeating of egg whites
are cardinal sins. Beat whites until they
form soft, glossy peaks; they should not
look dry or crumbly. Whites are best
whipped if removed from the refrigera-
tor about an hour before beating.

One final culinary tall tale should now
be dispelled. A soufllé doesn’t rise to five
times its height when baked. It will, at
the most, double in volume after baking.
Usually it rises about half its original
height iu the soufflé dish. To make it
look impressively tall, simply fill the dish
almost то the top; or tie a collar of folded
greased paper or greased aluminum foil
around the dish, and then fill the dish
to the very top or above it. After baking.
remove the collar and the souflé will
stand like a fantastic top hat.

Like champagne and ships, salads and
souffiés just naturally go together. Such
salads should be more than leafy green
tracery served as inconsequential side
dishes with table«l'hóte For
instance, the caponatina, outlined in a
recipe that follows, is the Sicilian egg-
plant salad dressed lavishly with olive oil,
celery and tomato sauce. If you've ever en-
countered this premeal salad in Italian
restaurants, you'll also probably remem-
ber the thin slices of prosciutto, morta-
della sausage and perhaps provolone
cheese offered at the same time. But in-
stead of serving as antipasto (i.c., before
the meal), the same salad and its accom-
paniments now become, along with a
parmesan-cheese souflé, the meal itself,
buon gusto. Inventive menu makers can
take almost any salad and give substance
to the shadow by whatever hearty sup-
plements their imagination dreams up at
the moment.

There's an aphorism that says,
can't eat glory" Well, you can eat
And to prove our thesis, we submit the
following recipes à la rrAvmov. Fach
recipe serves

HAM SOUFFLE, CHICKEN LIVERS MADEIRA

В ors. sliced canned or cooked ham.

% cup butter

V4 cup instantized flour

114 cups milk

9 eggs, whites and yolks separated

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh

chives

14 teaspoon ground fennel seed

11% ozs. bourbon

Salt, pepper

Preheat oven at 350°.
through meat grinder, using fine blade.
Put butter, flour and milk in saucepan.
Bring to a boil, stirring constantly.
Remove from flame. Beat egg yolks well
and add to sauce. Heat over low flame 1
minute, stirring constantly. Remove from
flame. Add ham, chives, fennel and
bourbon and stir well. Add salt and pep-
per to taste. Beat egg whites until stiff
but still glossy, not dry. Add one quarter
of the beaten egg whites to ham mixture.
Stir well. Slowly add ham mixture to
balance of egg whites, folding in very
carefully and lightly, using a down, over,
up suoke with spoon or spatula to keep.
mixture as light as possible. Turn into
2-quart souffié dish, greased on bottom
only. Fit dish with greased aluminum-
foil collar extending 2 ins. above rim of
dish. Place dish in a shallow pan with 1
in. boiling water. Bake 60 to 70 minutes
or until well browned.

Chicken livers madeira are prepared
separately and served along with souflé.

54 Ib. chicken livers

1 tablespoon salad oil

2 tablespoons butter

Y lb. sliced fresh mushrooms

1 medium-size onion, minced very fine

1 large clove garlic, minced very fine

114 cups canned brown sauce

3 tablespoons madeira or sherry

1 tablespoon cognac

Salt, pepper

Divide chicken-liver pairs into single
pieces; cut large pieces in half. Heat oil
and butter in large skillet. When butter
has melted, sauté chicken livers until
slightly brown. Remove livers from pan.
Add mushrooms, onion and garlic.
Saute, ag frequently, about 5 min-
utes. If there is a pool of liquid in рас
continue sautéing unti
rated. Add brown
cognac and bring to a boil. Return chick-
en livers to pan and simmer 5 minutes.
Add salt and pepper to taste.

WATERCRESS, ENDIV
SALAD

6 mediumsize ripe fresh pears

1 large bunch watercress

54 Ib. Belgian endive

4 ors. roquefort cheese

Ya cup olive oil

3 tablespoons red-wine vinegar

Y4 teaspoon Dijon mustard

% teaspoon grated onion

Salt, pepper
(continued on page 235)

ND FRESH PEAR

MWHATISINIAWAME?,

for want of a grabby moniker, a newly minted car may molder on the showroom floor, so let's open the think
tanks, run up some trial balloons and try to shake a peach of a label from the tree satire By RUSS WALLACE

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)
то: Ed Wright

Dear Ed: I guess Old Man Bell’s
stomach has told him that The Thing
will sell, and he has decided it is a sports
car. І got the first flash on his decision
from one of the upstairs gophers in the
john this morning and this was Jater
confirmed in the coficeroom. When I
was promoted last year, I got the news
the same way, зо this is probably official.
The Thing weighs about 6000 pounds,
but don't let that break you up. There
must be other sports cars that weigh
that much, I also got the word from his
secretary that he is preparing a memo to
give us all the confidential scoop, and
this is going to describe the car as
"long ...lithe . . . youthful . . . road-
hugging . . ." etc. At 6000 pounds, it
should hug the road, Га say.

I guess you know what is coming next.
Right about now, he is sharpening his
thumb t0 a fine point, and as soon as he
announces to us that he is going to build
The Thing, he is going to shove that
thumb in our eye about to the second
knuckle until we come up with a name
for it. So hit it. Get the boys and girls
started on that name. Now.

Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Clyde Bagwell

Clyde: Calling it a sports car catches
me flat-footed. With no disrespect to the
corporation, of course, I thought The
Thing’s chassis looked more like a rail-
road gondola. I think I've got а bad case
of mangled emotions right now, because
all I can think of is Watkins Glen, and
that seems kind of unwieldy for a sports-
car name. If we follow the lead of the
other automobile companies on car
names, we better get somebody out re-
searching the zoo and the aquarium. I
guess 1 need some direction here.

ка

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Ed Wright

Dear Ed: In case you don't know, this
car name has got to be what 1 cleverly
call Exhibition J. Manly. What 1 mean
is, D. D. Bell Sees through his gonads
darkly. Lots of sword.and-buckler. Sort of
Horatius-at-the-Bridge image. It has got to

ТОМІ UNGERER

be hairy-armsimanly or he won't buy it.
Гус been with him a усаг now, and along
with this thing he has about being able
to feel good styling in his stomach, he's
got a lot of other what you might call
foibles. I pray to God every day that I
know them all, because at any time 1
might trample on something he thinks is
precious and commit corporation hara-
kiri.

So here are some of the names he
won't buy. Stay away from Greek-warrior
names, or anything Greek, for that
matter. He hates all Greeks and guys
who wear white socks. Also, stay away
from explorer names He thinks it was
just a fluke that Cadillac made it, be-
cause LaSalle, Marquette, Hudson and
De Soto didn't. He is death on anything
French, because he thinks it has effemi-
nate overtones in this country, and he
thinks the guys at Buick flipped their
gourd when they got into it. Lastly, for
God's sake, don't say Viking. He has a
real thing about Viking anything. Two
companies built Viking cars and both
became orphans, GM built the last one,
and the Old Man's got a picture of it on
the wall. That may be why he left GM. 1
don't know and J sure as hell won't ask
him, either.

One last thing. Clear any names that
seem the least bit flakcy with that creep
named Schultz in Legal. He works for
McGroggin and does all the possible
dirty story or bar-joke research. Somebody
says this guy Schultz is the father of all
dirty stories and the only reason Mc
Groggin hired him is that it takes one
to know one. It grabs me sometimes
to think that in this civilization we get
salary grade eight for being experts on
evilthink.

Well, I leave you there. I guess I nar
rowed your field a little, but keep trying
We still haven't got the official memo.

Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDE

то: Clyde Bagwell
Clyde: How about Indians?

Ed
FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)
ro: Ed Wright
Dear Ed: GM has sewed up mosi of
the Indians, I think, except Potawatomi,

d who in hell could use that for a car
name? Haven't (continued on page 208)

149

the sexual freedom league at berkeley finds a delightful and freethinking advocate in coed mara. sykes

BLONDE, green-eyed Mara S
from all outward appearances,
typical California coed. But typi-
cal she is not. Mara’s unique
combination of physical and
philosophical attributes was
brought to the attention of
PLAYBOY's West Coast photogra-
pher by a Sexual Freedom Leaguer
who had met Miss Sykes at a
Berkeley-chapter party and was duly
impressed. We interviewed Mara be-
tween her art and sociology courses at

Berkeley and her cosmetics-counter
duties at a local drugstore and
discovered she was one of the
most refreshingly open girls we

had ever considered featuring:
as her quotes here and else-
where will attest. Says Mara
candidly: “People should not be
ashamed of their own bodies and
fearful of their own natural de-
sires, but should accept them
and try to understand them. Most
of my pleasures are sense oriented.”

“I joined the League because I felt that what it was trying to do was worth while. The philosophy
behind the League, which is mine also, is that any individual is entitled to engage in sexual activity
in whatever manner he pleases as long as he does not force his attentions upon an unwilling person.”

“I don't think that
sex is an all-im-
portant issue. The
greatest problem
is that of creat-
ing a grealer love
among all people.”

“A nude beach is &* lovely place. There
is always good cempany, and when you
don't have anything on, sun, water and
wind seem closer and somehow healthier.”

Е
B

Ribald Classic

OF ALL THE GRANDEES at the court of
King Alfonso of Aragon, Don Federico
was, certainly, the most proud and
honorable. His name was an ancient one,
and he never forgot the [act that most of
his forebears had died in Баше for king
or Christendom. Don Federico һай two
great sorrows in life—the death of his
wife in childbirth and the thoroughly
disappointing son she had given him.
ace, there was
wrong with Jaime, a pleasant enough
lad of 14, who seemed to have at least
two wits to rub together, But, having
been brought up by servants, the boy
seemed to have acquired the interests of
servants—his great delight was caves
dropping at doors, hiding behind харсу
ties or lying concealed behind strategic
hedges. In this way, he developed a vast
and detailed knowledge of the clandes-
tine sports carried on by certain ladies
and gentlemen of the court. What was
‚ he enjoyed describing all this—
adding a few comic remarks of his own
—to his father's menials.

When Don Federico discovered this,
he sent for his son in a thunderous rage,
forbade him on pain of death ever to
speak again and packed him off to a
family estate near Huesca. Now, what-
ever his faults, Jaime respected his father,
who had never been known to utter
false word or idle threat in all his life.
Jaime vowed to keep absolute silence
and he kept his vow. Ir was rumored that
Don Federico’s son had suffered a severe
illness that had deprived him of his
speech (an affliction that
some ladies attributed to the hand of
God). After one year, Don Federico
learned that his command had been
kept, and he brought the boy back to
court.

It so fell that the queen, observing the
boy one day, was attracted by his looks.
Learning that he was deaf and dumb, she
suddenly had the idea that he could be
useful to her in cert: de е matters,
and so she requested Don Federico to
permit Jaime to enter her personal serv-
ice. The old nobleman could do nothing
but agree, though with some misgivings.

wor

Again, he warned his son about the dra
matic things that would happen if he
spoke so much as a word—and Jaime

nodded meekly

Queen Elisenda, as J
was a lady of contr
she looked like a stiff royal portrait—
handsome, cold and disdainful. But in
her own private apartments, with the
stays and heavy brocades laid aside, there
was an entirely different woman—rosy,
voluptuous and cheerfully wanton. Jai
trembled with emotion as he held the

reply

me soon found
sts. In court,

from the Liber Facctiarum of Poggio Bracciolii

towel waiting for her to step out of the
bath; his head swam as he carried her a
tray of wine and biscuits while she lay
naked on her bed. He was even more
stounded to discover, very shortly, that
the other half of the bed was likely to be
occupied by the form of some gentleman
or another who was definitely not the
king.

Each day, almost every day, Jaime
witnessed the most amazing and delicious
senes in the royal apartments, for
Queen Elisenda was a lady of varied
tastes, wide acquaintance among the
noblemen of Spain and other countries
and a remarkable enthusiasm for testing
their manhood. Jaime nearly burst with
all the gossip he contained; at night he
returned to his room with his tongue
swollen from biting back the words.

Now, it happened that a great banquet
was to be held at which all the court
would be present. King Alfonso had,
оп occasion, noticed the queen's new
page and had become curious about his
allliction. During the dinner. while Jaime
was serving the queen, King Alfonso
suddenly turned to Don Federico and
put a question.

Your poor son," said the king, "tell
me if he was born without speech and
hearing or was this misfortune the result
of some accident?”

Don Federico had never lied in his
life—and he was not ready to begin by
deceiving his king. "Sire," he said, “the
boy is quite capable of speech. It is only
that I once commanded him, on раї
of losing his life, to give up his habits
of slander and (o speak no more.”

This story intrigued the king
felt sony for such a harsh per
am sure,” he said, “that the child has
suffered enough and has learned
lesson. He seems a brisk, well-mannered,
honest lad, and I urge you to remove
the ban."

Don Federico was much troubled and
he hesitated a long time, thinking that
only evil could come of it. But at last the
king's leniency prevailed. Don Federico
ordered his son to speak.

After all the long silence and this
sudden piece of good fortune, Jaime was
dazed. A huge bee swarm of words buzzed
and tumbled about in his head. For a
moment he was still dumb, Then, givi
у to something he could not control,

Jaime looked at the king and said,
‘Sire, 1 must tell you that your wife is
the most wanton and shameless whore in
the whole of Christendom

—Retold by Charles Powell E

dumb ja

and how
he spoke

ime.

159

PLAYBOY

testimony in the proceedings кыша from pase 121

because the car was programed for so
many seconds’ wait on the ground floor,
and Ed looked up at the ceiling and said,
“All right, you son of a bitch, let go of
it” And he stuck his middle finger up,
you know. At the time, I didn't think
anything about it, but I can sce now, it
was a litle extreme in the circumstances.
EDWARD CAPARELL: At the time, I didn’t
know Mr. Stiver was my enemy, or I
might have been more careful about
what I said 1 did.

LUCAS stivrr: I’m not your enemy, Fd.
EDWARD CAPARELL: In any case, that re-
mark and that gesture, together, were
just a reprise of a gag I remember from
years ago, at Hootney, Mars and Bean,
where we had a notoriously tight office
manager, a real penny squeczer, fellow
named Bragg; and one day in the can
somebody was pulling at the towel ma-
chine, which was set up for a long inter-
val, and һе said, "Goddamn it, Bragg, let
go of the towel, I know you're in therel"
‘That was all that was.

Justice MEANY: Thank you, Mr. Capa-
Tell. You may go on, Mr. Stiver.
Lucas snver: Well, we were standing
there, waiting for the elevator to take off,
and the Muzak was playing. 1 didn't no-
tice until Ed called to my attention that
the music was a steel band, and they
were all singing some calypso song, and
Fd said he wished the damned elevator
would start up, because he was still cold
from walking all the way from Grand
Central, and the Muzak was trying to
convince him he was in Jamaica. I
member he laughed a little and he said,
I feel environmentally confused."
ESTHER MEAGAN: I remember that same
morning, because of the snowstorm.
When I heard Mr. Caparell come
went and got him a jug of coffee,
did every morning, and then I remem-
bered that the cigarette box on his desk
was empty, so I grabbed а pack of ci
rettes somebody had left on my desk; I
figured I didn't have time to run down to
the machine. When Mr. Caparell saw
the package, he said, “What are those?”
And I said, “Brand-new
you heard? ‘Treats. They have less nico-
tine than anything.” And Mr. Caparcll
said, “I don't knew about the other folks,
but I drink whiskey for the alcohol in it
and I smoke cigarettes because I get а
mes: from the nicotine in them and
the rich, nourishing tars, so you just drag
your ass downstairs and get me a deck of
king-size Burtons." He had never spoken
to me in such a manner before. I thought
it was very strange of him. I was upset.
Justice Meany: Still, wouldn't you
agree that Mr. Caparell may only have
been angry? Many men react strongly if
they are asked to change the habit of
years, and 1 gather that Mr. Caparell

haven't

account,

160 had smoked Burtons for some time.

ESTHER MEAGAN: Yes, but he kept on
about it for so long. He kept making up
slogans, like, "Let me treat you to a
"Treat," and then making noises as if he
were, well, vomiting. And after he had
finished his coffec, he was standing by
the window in his office, it’s a big win-
dow, the whole wall is window, and he
called me in and pointed to the Chrysler
Building, which we could just see,
through the snow, and he said, "What
would you like to bet that by three this
afternoon there'll be nothing but that
skinny spike on top sticking out of the
snow?
EDWARD CAPARELL: A whimsy, nothing
morc or less. Although at the time, I con-
sidered it entirely possible and, аз a mat-
ter of fact, I still do. Not only possible
but attractive. To any rational mind, the
idea of New York City under 1250 feet
of fresh snow is irresistibly appealing.
J. F. T. DORTMUND: I don’t believe І had
any contact with Ed Caparell on the day
Mis Meagan and Mr. Stiver have told
us about, but E did talk to him not long
afterward, probably three or four days
later. І can date it by Miss Meagan's re-
mark on the Treat account. As head of
the research department of the agency,
Ed would naturally be one of the first I'd
call in. We talked about it in general
terms at first and then I told him that
the Treat people had a kind of secret
weapon up their sleeves, a technologi-
cal breakthrough in the manufacturing
process that would enable them to under-
sell any competing brand by as much
as a dime a pack, if they wanted to. And
of course I told Ed that we were going
to have to come up with a reason, а jus-
ation for this, because if you cut the
price of a product 25 percent, people are
going to think there must be something
wrong with it. He said why didn’t we
work it out that the Treat research
people had cut costs by eliminating the
jor expense, the tobacco itself. He
said we could say that the cigarette was
made of healthful herbs, impregnated
with synthetic tobacco essence, noncar-
cinogenic and all that. He said that the
slogan could be, “Give your tired old
lungs а Treat.” 1 tried to sce the humor
in all this, but I remember thinking that
it certainly bordered on the irresponsi-
blc, coming from a man of Ed's expe
ence. Later on I remember thinking that
perhaps that was the root of the trouble:
too many years on the firing line. We're
in a rough game, we all know that. Any-
way. we went on to other things. I told
him a new account executive was joining
the agency, he was the one who was
bringing the business, and I told him the
name, Angelo Salzman. Ed gave a per-
ceptible sign of recognition and, well,
surprise, and I asked him if he knew
Salzman. He said no, he didn’t, but it
was an odd name and he had known an

Angelo Salzman in grade school. He said
it couldn't be the same one.

Е MEANY: Did he explain his
ig?

porTMUND: Yes, he did, but un-
s absolutely necessary, I'd rather
not go into it...

JUSTICE MEANY: We are concerned here
with a man's liberty, Mr. Dortmund, and
we require the fullest clucidation of
exery scrap of information we can find.
DORTMUND: Well, Ed said it
t be the same Angelo Salzman,
because the Salzman he knew had been
clearly destined to be a concentration
camp guard or an ax murderer. He said
Salzman was the biggest louse he'd ever
known and certainly somebody must
have shot him by now.

JUSTICE MEANY: Were you present when
Mr. Caparell and Mr. Salaman met?
J. Е. T. DORTMUND: Yes, I introduced
them.

JUSTICE MEANY: What were their respec-
tive attitudes?

J. к. T. DoRrMUND: Ed looked stunned.
He went white and then red and at first

I thought he wouldn't be able to say
anything. Salzman looked surprised, too,

but then he seemed to think it was fun-
ny, and he laughed and sort of ran at Ed
and grabbed his hand and called him
Old Jug-Fars. He actually picked him up
like a baby and swung him around. He
kept saying. "You remember me. don't
you. Ed? You remember old Slingshot
Salzman from St. Ignatius, don't you? By
God, you ought to remember me!”
JUSTICE MEA I think we should hear
now from Mr. Salzman. Mr. Salzman, it
will not be necessary for you to testify
from the witness stand. You may speak
from your wheelchair.

ANGELO SALZMAN: Thank you, your Hon-
or. Well, I met Ed Caparell in the au-
tumn of 1940, when we were both in the
eighth grade at St. Ignatius school in

Bloomstown, Pennsylvania. We had a

normal re nship for that school and.
that time, I would say, although I would
admit that I probably was happier in the
eighth grade than Ed was. St. Ignat
was in a 1 of acrossthetracks dis-
пісь and it was known as a tough
school, If you couldn't take care of
yourself, you could count on a certain
amount of trouble, Despite what has
happened, 1 want to be fair, and I have
to say that Ed Caparell probably got
picked on more than most kids. Ir is true
to say, as he has said, that I picked on
him some, but the important thing to
remember is that there was nothing per-
sonal about it. Partly it was just my na-
ture; I was an overenergized, extroverted
kid. Partly, well, in that school, in St.
Ignatius, everybody picked on some-
body, that’s the kind of place it nd
Ed Caparell, he was sort of a natural vic-
tim. Now, about the slingshot and my

(continued on page 236)

“What brings you to this neck o' the woods?”

161

PLAYBOY

WATTS WORKSHOP

Abruptly, the "dramatic" pabulum
spoon-fed to us happy vidiors by our
patronizing sponsors was flung from our
trays. Into our living rooms raged an ele-
ment that is usually forbidden on televi-
sion—life, and its dark, red underbelly,
death, Not spurious, TV-gun-smoke
death bur the undignified red hole in the
flesh and the unrehearsed crumple of the
wasted corpse—the real thing. A ragged
army of thousands was surging through
the burning streets spewing its hatred of
white cops and “white devils” in general.
The angry black braves found exci
ment and release in the fires lighting up
the skies over the city they considered
their enemy.

А guest in my house for this impromptu
television shaw was a New York colum-
nist who had come to write funnies
on Lotusland, the hippies of Sunset Strip
and topless waitresses serving luncheon
pizzas to piecyed patrons of the ar
Los Angeles is a “pigeon” at point-blank
range for visiting humorists. But this
time our guest had a serious question
“What the hell is going on down ther

т didn't know. The more I watched,
the more I realized that I had no idea
what was going on down there. Or if I
knew the what, I could n only an
educated guess at the why. But I knew it
only in my head. And it wasn't some-
ihing one could read up on. books. 1
had read my share, from the autobiogr:
phy of Frederick Douglass to Dr. Clark's
Dark Ghetto, the angry essays of Bald-
win and the abrasive Autobiography of
Malcolm X

What was I to do? As an American
writer still oriented toward social fiction,
1 felt an itch, an irresistible urge to
know. I held to the old-fashioned notion
that an author has а special obligation to
his society, an obligation to understand
and to serve as its conscience. Melville
па Whitman had known this So had
and Howells, Norris and Londoi
Sandburg and MacLeish, Sinclair and
Dos Passos, Wright and Steinbeck, The
responsible American writer шаке» it his
duty to report on his corner of the na-
iom. Los Angeles is my corner. 1 wa
raised there. 1 had gone to Watts in my
youth to hear T Bone Walker and other
local jazzmen in the honky-tonks of what
was then a small rural chunk of the South
tossed into the outskirts of the crazy-
ilc sprawl that was and is Los Angeles.
the Sixties, Watts was no longer 6000
but 30,000; the black ghettoland of
south Los Angeles had leaped to 320,000
in an exploding county population of
6,000,000, but was still the bottom-dog
tenth,

I was there in Los Angeles. I was self-

162 appointed to go to Watts while the fires

(continued from page 111)

were still smoldering. So out of lush,
plush, white, bright Beverly Hills, my
New York-columnist friend and I drove
south to the Santa Monica Freeway and
сам to the Harbor Freeway, and turned
off on Century Boulevard, which runs
from the 21st Century silhouette of the
International Airport on the west to the
dilapidated railroad station of V
the cast. The first cliché rı
traveler to Watts 15: Why, what's all the
complaining about? This looks a hundred
percent better than Harlem or the Negro
ms of any Eastern city. Look at the
ice wide, tree-lined streets and the
attractive little individual houses with
their neatly trimmed flower beds and
their well-kept lawns. Yes, there are
such houses, block after block, and the
first impresion might be of а comfort-
able lower-middle-class city in the Mid-
west. We found sunshine in Watts, and
а deceptive suburbia, with small palm
trees. But when we took a der look,
we could sec that the palm tees were
growing like the people, as if they really
did not have their hearts in it. Then,
moving on beyond Success Street, we
also found 103rd Street, the mainstream
of Watts that had won notoriety а few
days before as Charcoal Alley Number
One. I had not s such devastation
since, as a member of an OSS team in
World War Two, I had driven into Ger-
man cities to collect incriminatory docu-
ments, Burned-out supermarkets were
smoldering. Pawnshops and liquor stores
piles of rubble and shattered glass.
There hung over the heart streets of
Watts that terrible silence that descends
on battlegrounds the day after a truce
has been declared,

Just off embattled, embittered 103rd
Street stood a palegreen two-story stucco
building, It stood alone now, Беса
round it had been burned to
the ground. ‘This was the Westminster
Neighborhood Association, a social
service agency founded by the Presby
terian Church. There were a few shabby
offices and some bare classrooms
recreation room that looked moi
forlorn pool hall. Troubled young men
were being encouraged to come in off the
hot sucets, where there was nothing to do
but grumble about the Man and how he
finally had thrown more firepower at the
wothers than they could handle. West-
aster was offering classes for illiter-
ates, teenage and айий. There was а
dancing cl xking instruments or a
record player, and some basic English
and Negro history. In ап unadorned as
sembly hall, kids banged on an old out-
obtune piano and formed spon
singing groups and put on h
variety shows. There was some psychi-
atric help and some efforts to assist se-
vercly depressed families in the nearby
housing project, and that was about it,

a far cry from the great settlement houses
teeming with self-improvement in the old
East Side Jewish ghetto of New York.

An energetic plaimtalking young
socialworker from Harlem and CCN
guided this first tour of Miseryland, the
dark side of the shimmering Los Angeles
moon. In the poolioom, І tried to shake
hands with young men whose eyes
would roam the floor and the walls when
mine wied to meet theirs and who would
not put out their hands in the somewhat
meaningless geste of greeting our
white civilization cultivates.

“Мом of these brothers have just got-
ten out of jail," our spirited escort from
CCNY explained. “Some of them were
leaders in the revolt. Others were just
standing on corners watching when they
were handcufled and dragged in. Even
before the revolt, it was a miracle if a
young man on the streets without а job
could avoid building up a record. Once
they've got a record, it’s practically im-
possible to get a job. Not that there are
jobs to pet rich, beautiful L.A.,
we've got an unemployment problem
worse than the country had іп the
Depression thirty years ago.

One of the teenagers, very shabby and

very black, missed his shot at the lumpy
pool table and growled at me, “L was on
a motherfuckin’ chain gang in the South.
Every goddamn day, the Man takes me
out and beats my ass. Finally I get away
d hitchhike to L.A. New scene. A
other chance. Two days later, I'm busted
here. Not doin’ nothin’, jus’ huntin' me a
place to sleep. The Man picks me up and
whops on me jus’ like back home.
Sheeit. man, I had it with Whitey.” He
glared at me as if I were all the white
Kluxers whose gauntlet he had been
running all of his 17 years, and turned
back 10 his game of pool.
“I didi n to get you insulted,”
id our bustling guide from Westmi
“But if you come down here, you
might as well sce it like it is. I don't have
to tell you these Kids are hostile. They
feel so trapped and frustrated they're
almost going out of their minds. We
don't want to turn off their hostility and
turn them into Uncle Toms. But we want
to guide them so they can tum those
enemies into constructive works. It's
discouraging. Every day there are а hun-
dred human crises. 1 figure if we help опе
in a hundred, we're doing something."

I sat down on a box behind a group of
young teenagers who were staring dully
at daytime television on a set that looked
like a throwback to the middle Fifties. 1
squirmed when the commercials came
on. Like most upper-middlebrows, I am
conditioned ast commercials. The
cigarette sells and the instant relief from
body odors that introduce you to a
whole new world of romance and ac
ceptance—it's all too much and we
laugh at it, put reverse American on it

(continued on page 164)

TORTLENECKS TAKE OVER

casting off the tie that binds for casual elegance on the town

2 First-rank restaurants and night spots, including
altire BY ROBERT LOREEN snc ios Сы, have now opened their doors
to gentlemen who have tastefully coupled a suit or sports coat with a

turtleneck. Tableside and ticless in a posh dining room, these two chaps
keep both beauty and bubbly close at h g (left to

a wool twill two-button shaped suit, by J. Schoeneman, $100,
wool mock turtleneck, by Catalina Martin, $19: and a corduroy double-
breasted suit, with flap pockets and deep side vents, by Stanley Blacker.
$70, topped off with a cable wool turtleneck, by Robert Bruce, $18.

PLAYBOY

164 Ше concerned wh

WATTS WORKSHOP.

and, with smug superiority, accept it as
part of the game. H's Camp to comment
on how much more you enjoy the way-
out commercials than the so-called emer-
tainment sandwiched in between, You
can have your easy chuckle at the ex
pense of Marlboro and Right Guard and
Mr. Clean. But I said squirm. My first
[terneon in Watts, I knew I had never
watched TV that way before. It was eerie
to watch these men-children watching
the promised land held up to them
through the magic of the television tube.
So near and yet so far. Look but don't
touch. Catch a glimpse of the water, but
don't you dare take olf those ragged
clothes! They were dropouts and they
were jobless and some of them slept in
doorways and in the backs of cars, prey
to police harassment and the vices that
seem to oller momentary escape.
what was the comme
An opportunity to get in on the
floor of a new realestate developer's
dream—Holiday Hills (or something like
that), each individual splitlevel home
facing the golf course—and, of course,
each with its own swimming pool, “no
longer a millionaire's prerogative, but
hin reach of even the budgerminded
ker.

I watched those black kids watching
white real-estate nirvana. I felt the
nger, expressed in soft epithets and
compressed humor. “Sheeit, шап!” “I
think ТЇЇ buy me two of ‘cm, one Г my
white maid.” They broke themselves up.
‘They were laughing. but it wasn't good-
natured, easy laughter. It was their own,
stylish way of reacting to a challenge,
brutal challenge of a society that was
ng swimming pools and goll courses
ad, at the same time, warning them to
keep off the grass.

I remember [e s D watched
them watch that absurd American dream
of a commercial. that if they walked out
of that crummy poo! nd went down
the block to the one supermarket still
standing there (and still offering sub-
standard meats and vegetables at prices
higher than Beverly НИК) you had
been with me in that scaly “recreation”
room and felt the vibrations from those
Kids who had dropped out or had been
dropped ош of our society—the burning
of a supermarket would have seemed, if
not forgiva

From the pool h
the Jordan Downs Housing Project. The
units are adequate for young married
couples who cin afford $85 per month
But God or Allah help you if you hay
four, five or six children, or frequently

le, more understandable.
ll, we walked over to

aster building, the crude
ing of what may опе day become
a thriving settlement house, I heard
myself asking the inevitable question of
te visitor: “Is there

(continued from page 162)

nything I can do? Is there anything опе
person—not an organization, but just a
single person—can. do?

Don't send Johnny Roxeboro or this
year's star quarterback. Just because our
kids are mostly high school dropouts

doesn't mean they're dumb. I can show
u dropouts with 1. Q.s of 140. These
kids are so frustrated they're going out
of their minds—some of them literally.
"They need motivation, stimulation—you
said you were a writer—maybe you could
start a writer's class.
How did 1 begin? These days, 1 re-
ceive letters from ghetto neighborhood
groups in Cincinnati and San Francisco
nd Philadelphia asking that question, as
there we al magic we bot-
ued to ers Worl
shop, I simply posted a notice on the
Westminster bulletin. board—"CREATIVE
WRITING CLASS—ALL INTERESTED SIGN BE-
tow.” Simple as that. It would be pleas-
young

ant to add that a dozen aspir

ned immediately and we were

off and writing, But it didn't happen that
way. The wath was, nobody signed up.
Nobody came. Weck after week, D sat
there like an idiot shepherd without a
flock, shuffling my notes and idly read-
ng the community papers, the Sentinel
and the throwaways scattered. around.
the small cluttered room that actually
was a kind of pantry for the Westminster
kitchen, Sometimes | wandered down
Beach Sucet to 103rd. People glared at
me. I felt unwanted. 1 could catch the
tone of angry muttering. “Dig the gray
beast! What the fuck you think he's up
107" Sometimes Г be confronted direct-
ly. “The white man's heaven is the black
mans hell" a lean, ragged youngster
who looked and sounded like a teenage
Malcolm would challenge me as I passed.

What to do? Give up? Admit that a
white man, no matter how
believes his motives to be, has по place
in a black ghetto? I decided to tough it
out—at least to try it not for three week
but for three months—or longe
necessary. But I thought | would try
new tactics. Nobody knew me on Beach
Street. Nobody could figure out what I
was up to. It was still only a month or so
afier the curfew had been lifted and thc
National Guard withdrawn: 103rd Strect
was still suffering from a sense of psy
chological siege Whitey was fuzz. WI
was power structure. Whitey was “Travel-
in’ Sam Yorty,” the mayor, and his police
chief, Parker, against whom the people
of Waus seemed to feel a hatred similar
to the feeling of the Jews for Hitler and
Himmler. White was the color of the
enemy that held you in and blocked you
off and put you down and held you th
at the business end of the billy club and
the bayonet point,

I thought I would wy, a
card, the film On the Waterfront th

writers

a calling
t1

had written and made with director Eli
Kazan. Since the street kids who were
my prospective students had no money
to go to the movies, I suggested to some
staff members at Westminster that 1
might ralk to the manager of a local
theater—get him to run the picture for
us at some hour that would not compete
with commercial showings. My suggestion
trailed off. 1 could see the Westminster
workers looking at one another and shak-
ng their heads, Across the narrow street
was а temporary оћсе of the McCone
Commission that was spending some
$300,000 on a report on the whys and
wherefores of the riot. But I found my
self a committee of one getting а first-
hand lesson in the realities of. Watts, a
lesson without end.

"Don't you know there's
as a movie theater in Y
minster staff member said.

“You've got to go all the way up to
midtown, ten or twelve miles, about two
dollars round trip." said the other.

So I borrowed а sound projector and a
16mm print of Waterfront and we ran
the picture in the makeshift Westminster

such ng
"опе Wet-

05

awembly ball. И was mid-September
1065. It was like a midsummer night,
ingly hot. There was no air con.
ng. nor even fans. Our audience

consisted of 30 restless teenagers, some of

them from Westmiuster's Youth Training
and Employment Program, some of them
hard-core trouble kids, troubled and
troublemaking, some of them on glue
nd dropping red devils, thrill-secking
some escape from what the halfhearted
McCone Report later called “the dull,
devastating spiral of failure.”

All of a sudden, there was а commo-
tion across the street. А crowd. was form-
ing in front of the prosperous two-story
building across from our center. “This
place is in a worse depression than the
country as а whole was in the early Thir-
ties,” said an angry май worker. "But
that shop over there does the best bu

s in town,” He was referring to the
mortuary.

1 looked

round and realized that I
had lost my audience. I followed diem to
the street and earned the nature of the
competition. A six-month-old baby had
died. The mother's gricf was intensified
by the bitter knowledge that the prompt
rival of an ambulance and a hospital
¢ General Hospital
n miles away might have saved
M.

the mortuary on Reach
Street, while my movie was running in
п empty room, I was learning another
important lesson about Watts, Nearly ай
the things that we take for granted
uptown as part of the comlorts of city liv-
ing are brutally missing in Watts. In an
area of large families and inadequate
housing, prone to accidents and the ill-
neses of undernourishment, there arc

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PLAYBOY

166

fewer doctors and substandard medical
саге. The laying out of that infant dur-
ing the "premiere" of On the Waterfront
Watts still burns in my mind as image
and symbol of the true meaning of medi-
cal deprivation.

You may read in the bloodless
guage of the McCone Report th
Conunission believes that immed
favorable cot tion should be giv
to а new, comprehensively equipped
hospital in the area.” What the authors
of the McCone Report have achieved is
мени in ative way. They have
ing ently ай
ation in the comfortable language
polysyllable

and over again, “You know what the real
trouble ороду cares. white
people uptown don't give a
us. Hell, even our own middle-dass Ne-
grocs who move out to Compton or west
of the Freeway don't care about us.
That's why we don't have а hospital and
we don’t have а moviehouse and we don't
have hot meals and libraries
schools and we don't have y
thav'll take us to the jobs and we don't
have—well, you name it and we don't
have

One ties to assure the protester thar

You

actually there are thousands in the com-
ble and cozy white neighborhoods
е. But one of the tragedies is that
there has been no communication be-
tween Watts and the more prosperous
communities. In the beginning was the
word, and despite Ficld Marshal Mc
Luhan, 1 refuse to lose faith in the
In those early months in W
tinucd to hope that we would fi
communication through the words put
together meaningfully to express frustr;
tions, feelings, thoughts, idi
At last my first recruit arrived. I shall
hways be grateful to him. His spirit, hi
determination to rise from the ashes i
spired all of us. Charles Johnson. Nine-
teen years old but looking a dozen years
older. Round-faced, pudgy, but, vou felt,
not a man you'd like to mess with. A ver
стап of the county jail during the revolt.
A veteran of a lot of things. 1 had met
him on that first visit to the pool hall. He
had told me how the police had busted
him while he was standing on a corner
watching the fires. 7I don't have to tell
you what they did то me—I can show
you the marks.” he had said quietly.
At that first visit to my nonexistent
class, Charles Johnson talked with me
for almost three hours. Just the two of
из. Starting very slowly. Feeling each

word.

"Im sure he's the one, Sarge. He's а sociopathic
personality with clearly indicated. schizoid
and. depressive tendencies."

other out. Groping. Searching. After the
first hour, it got easier. 1 think both of us
were a little surprised that we could talk
to each other as honestly as we did. He
asked me what my purpose was in set-
ting up this class. "Nothing up my
sleeve,” I said. “It’s just that Im sick of
people talking about the problem—the
Negro problem, as the whites call it. th
white problem, as Ebony calls it—a
not doing something personal about
I'm not the antipoverty program. I'm not
the № DoubleA CP. I'm just me, a
writer, here to see if I can find other
writers,

“Now I'll tell you the truth." CH
said. "Some of the brothers didn
the sight of you. In fact, some of them
wanted to stomp you. But I told ‘em
‘Lemme sce what the cat is up to first.”

Thus, Charles Johnson became the
charter member of the Watts Writers:
Workshop. “I got things to write about,
he said, “only I don't know if they're
stories.

He told me a few. 1 sid, "Stori
aren't fancy things like the Arabian
ghis. They're the things you've been
doing, what you did in the uprising last
month, what you're thinking about now
that’s what writing is."

Our first textbook was Manchild in
the Promised Land, by Claude Brown.
Charles Johnson and | read some of it
out loud together. By the time he was
nine years old, Claude Brown was a man-
child, a respected thief and full-fledged
member of The 40 Thieves. Ar 13, when
the w! s of suburbanland were play-
ing Little League baseball and going о
cookouts with their dads, Claude was
lying on the dirty floor of a fish-and-
chips house in Harlem with a bullet in
his gut.

I read these paragraphs from Man-
child out loud to. Charles:

rle

around the со
Butch’s house, Alter I convinced
m that Iw e he opened the
door. He said that Kid and Danny
were in the kitchen, 1 saw Kid sit
ting on the floor with his hand stuck
way down in a gallon jar of pickled
pigs’ cars, Danny was cooking some
bacon at the stove, and Butch was
busy hiding stuf. Jt looked as
though these guys had stolen а
whole grocery store. While I joined
the feast, they took turns telling me
about the riot. Danny and Kid
hadn't gone home the night before:
they were out following the crowds
and looting.

My only regret was that I had
missed. the excitement. 1 said, “Why
don’t we have another riot tonight?
Then Butch and me can get in i

Danny said there were too many
cops around to have a riot now.
Butch said that they had eaten up

s айо:

1 the bread and that he was going
to steal some more. I asked if I
could come along with him, and
he said that I could if I promised to
do nothing but watch. I promised,
but we both knew that I was lying.

Kid and Баппу and Butch were ten
years old, four years older than Claude.
To the outside world, they were little
hoodlums; in fact, already soph
criminal To Claude Brown's
ey were valiant soldiers on the
battle streets of Harlem, fighting for
survival.

Charles Johnson's first reaction to
Manchild was, "Wow! That's a real
tough book. 1 didn't know you could put
words like that in a book. Sounds just
е we talk on 103rd Street. Everything
he puts in that book, that’s just like
what's going on here in Watts. 1 could
hundred stories just like it.”
Sometimes Charles would bring a
d with him, a gangly, homeless
who is considered retarded.
Call him Luke. I had been warned that
Luke could become violent and that
unaccountably he had attacked а West-
minster staff. worker, Sometimes Luke
would w: into the cmpty little
classroom and sit down beside me and,
with his dark, sad, sensitive face only a
few inches from mine, would stare
while Charles and I were di:
posible story. It was unnerv
somehow Luke and I got used to each
other. He did mot write, although
arles said he had interesting
but he sketched surprisingly well.

And this derelict, whom some con:
ered a village idiot, was strangely de-
pendable. As the Westminster youth
training program absorbed hundreds of
jobless teenagers, our original cubbyhole
was preempted and we would often be
shunted to some other makeshift class-
room. A sign would have to be posted
telling prospective members where to
find us. Luke would take off on his long,
cranelike legs and the notice was posted
mpeccably and punctually. Luke was not
ng, but he seemed proud of the
He seemed pleased to have
litde jobs to do. In order to under-
stand Watts and the creative clement so
ve in Watts, it may be necessary to
understand Luke. When the police
pulled him out of the back of a parked
car that was his bedroom of expediency
and locked him in the hated 77th
Street. Precinct on the usual charge of
suspected armed robbery, a crowd of
many hundreds marched on the jail-
house. They were trying to tell the police
something about Luke. They were uying
to say that Luke needs more than an
overcharge of robbery and a hard time
. The police did not get the mes-
sage. They spoke to the protesters with
shotgun butts, That is the present state
of communications between the people

пасг

“Perhaps you should have а heart-to-heart talk
with him. He's been receiving quite a
few books from Grove Press.”

of Watts and the defenders of law and
order and the status quo.

The writing class was growing. There
s a mysterious 18-yearold who had
dropped out of Jordan High School in
his junior year and had left the home
of stepmother and ten half-brothers
and sisters, living thereafter from hand
to mouth. He looked like a shy, unati
ltic, unkempt, underdeveloped Cassius
(Whars-My-Namez) Ali. He handed me
а poem, on a small scrap of paper in
longhand. By Leum lt was ti
tled Infinite. V
“Never know a beg
diate reaction зу;
begin as а noun.
pered to me, “Wait
begin to destroy thi
suspicious
ments,
begin of mc. lum

My
Begin? You c
But something whis-
minute, before you
shabby, withdrawn,
with improve-
` Never know a

ve died like cut flower
after that, Leumas Sirah handed
three or four new poems, Godandman,
You and 1, Me I'm Black, One Two
Three—he would hand them to me
nd ism," But they were the
kind of poems I would have to take
home and sleep on and ponder, With
Leumas nother teenage high
school dropout, Ernest Archie Mayhand,
Jr» who shared with Leumas the chancy,

marginal life of the child in search of his
manhood, his identity in the dark ghetto.
He listened and indulged in long, philo
sophical discussions with the mysterious
Leumas Sirràh regarding the latter's
abstract, metaphysical poetry questing (ог
God, unity and identity.

Our young poet's corner on Be;
Street was joined by older prose writers
who found their way to us by word of
mouth: Roly-poly, halfdefeated Harry
Dolan, in his middle 30s, in the process
of being retrained as a glass blower to
support his four children, arrived with a
battered briefcase full of unfinished
manuscripts. He had been everything
ity-hall janitor and а por at
in Boston to a weekly Negro-
newspaper reporter. Time was running
out for H; 1. But he wanted
nd hopefully to the
outside world that he should be a writer
and not a glass blower or a janitor. Since

this was a workshop. my job wasn't to
teach Harry Dolan how to write or even

what to write—the real stuff. of ghetto
life beat strongly in all the scraps and
false starts and incomplete rewrites he
had to show. The job was simply for
Harry Dolan to organize himself, his

aterial, his talent. He seemed to have
everything but self-confidence. Pick the
piece you like best, concen
don't stop until you know it is the best
you can do with it, get a dean, finished

167

PLAYBOY

168

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170

сору and move оп to the next. That was
about all the teaching I had to offer
Нату Dolan, and from this gentle
nudge flowed essays such as Will There
Be Another Riot m Watts?, short stories
1 Remember Poppa, plays like
lec pers.
There was also Birdell Chew, a lady
bs; like so many Watts residents,
rural South, а philo-
veteran of the hard c, active
struggle of the community to pull
itself up from the depths of despair and
деа and apathy and a tragic sense of
from the white overlords. She
as personal affront that the mayor
was more concerned with dropping the
bomb on the Vietnamese than
with coming to grips with the fearful
pressures of a decomposed inner city.
where male unemployment was one
third, where two thirds of the teenagers
were doomed never to finish high school,
where the old winos went muttering
through the у nt lots still strewn with
rubble from the revolt of 1965.

Like Harry Dolan, Birdell Chew had
bec ning to write all her Ше. My
first reaction to the first chapter of her
novel in progress—years in progress—
was similar to my impulsive response to
Leumas Sirah's first di of Infinit
"Looks hopeless—can't spell or
rips over her own syntax-
" But I took it ho:

literate

only the most. necessary.
tical adjustms Our
then we needed a special secre

the Workshop writing

асап copy. When I read the first chapter

look-

been
di after muc aust
for years, Suddenly was
dear and beautiful in its simplicity. Her
wo little swamp children caked with
mud and ignorance, who make a pro-

found discovery at the far end of their
glades, sty something about the mean-

ag and impact of education in а fresh
and original way. I had read nothing like
it before. When Birdell read that first
chapter aloud to our growing Workshop
t old show

group. you could dust off il
biz There wasnt a dry eve in the
house. Birdell Chew took literally our

Workshop maxim: “Write only what уоп

know," А lady had dropped off a ferch-
ing, shy siwscarokl child at Birdell’s
modest house im Watts, asking Birdell
and her daughter 10 baby-sit for the day.
The mother never returned. Birdell
loved this “adopted” daughter and de-
dded to write a story about her. In her

first version. it was a three-page sketch
of a моу. C by class, the story
evolved. until me the fulllength.
Lady Linder. At опе Workshop session,
we read all four versions, from its brief,
tentative beginning to its final copy, to
study Пом а story grows.

Other would-be and shouldbe writers

came, people who had bee king at
it all their lives and were yer to be pub
lished, such as James "Thomas Jackson,
from Temple, Texas, who had dried

into Watts from Houston.
dence, on the first

by odd coinci-

“What would you say about the evils of LSD if I told
you that I tripled my sales record for fiscal
1966-1967 after taking a trip?"

His greeting from Los Angeles was to be
stopped by police without his having the
faintest idea of what was going on. Since
then, James Jackson had been trying to
hold himself together by sweeping out
the hoary Eagle Café on South Western
Avenue. His das conferences were
sprinkled with references to Melville and
Hawthorne: and once when he men-
tioned Fitzgerald, he added: talking
of Scoit now, not Edward, though I dig
a lot of Edward FitzGerald, too." Mr.
Jackson has written a dozen chapters of
а novel about a Negro Army unit in
World War Two—Shade of Darkness, 1
had only to read а few chapters to know
we had another genuine writer in our
group.

And then there was Sonora McKeller,
born and raised in Watts, known all over
the аа as “Aunt Fa a militant
communityaction worker recognized for
her cleanly

man L
i part German,
part Mexican.

part
She hi

Apache
been

from а chorus girl to a south

eles Joan of Arc.
Then there was 20-year-old Johnie
Scou, who drank wine and dropped red

devils with the most abandoned of the

desperate black children of 103d Street.
but who survived, miraculously, to be
come one of the few of his generation in
Wans to graduate from Jordan
School and to find his own eloqu
voice as a kind of poet laureate of ghetto
Мац.

And Jimmy Sherman, high school
dropout, who had also gone through a
iod of personal rebellion, turning to.
wine, marijuana, gang fighting, but who
was now a reformed GI teaching. boxing

t Teen Pos, who filled out his P
ion for the Workshop with the sig
phrase, "E had made up vese
since I was а litle boy, but taking. part

ys айе
what I
really wanted to be was a writer, not just
for myself but for all of us who want
justice in America.

By the spring of 1966, we had out
grown the small offices and classrooms

we had been using ас Westminster
Weaminster itself was bursting at the
машу as йу various antipovemy, self

development. programs multiplied. So we
»oved up ro l03rd Suet, on good old
Ch Alley Number Or
Watts Happening Coffee

abandoned furniture store
young people of the area had tans
formed—indusiously and ingeniously
—into an art center. There were home-
made paintings on the walls, a few of
them fascinating, a lot of them promis-
ing. some of them god-awful. There is а
stage where poetry readings and self-

coal the

House, an
that the

propelled plays such as Jimmy Sher-
man's Ballad from Watts and musical
entertainments are performed weekly
There are Happenings and political dis-
cussions that lean toward extreme black
nationalism, and a record player that
swings everything from the Supremes
and Lou Rawls to grand opera. If the
Westminster Neighborhood Association
had been the first beacon of hope I had
been able to find in Watts, the Warts
Happening Coffee House was an o
of self-improvement and sell-expression

The Watts Writers Workshop was
adding new members ас every meeting
Young poets Alvin Saxon, Jr. ("Ojenke")
and tall, willowy, vague and deep
Emmery Evans. A 40-yearold from Indi
anola, i arley Mims. Our first
Mexican contributor, warm, thusiastic
Guadulupe de Saavedra. Young black
militant and ted Vallejo Ryan.
Kennedy. A 20-year-old produet of 103rd
Sueet who stammers badly but whose
words pour out on paper with a “deep
blue feeling,” Edna Gipson. Young ma-
trons in their у 30s who tend toward
the Ebonyreading middle class but who
seemed to find new life in brushing
shoulders with the troubled or angry
kids of the Watts ghetto— Jeanne Taylor
and Blossom Powe.

By summer 1966, the Watts Writers
Workshop was becoming
celebrity. Les Angeles magazine pub-

5

kind of group

lished the poetry of Johnie Scott, Jimmy
Sherman and Le ah and they
found themselves attracting. national
tention, Irving Stone called to express his
enthusiasm and suggested I come to a
dinner of а local authors’ circle 10 read
more of the works of Scott, Sherman and
Sirah and to describe the activities of
the Workshop. Edward Р. Morgan
broadcast several of the poems by Leu-
mas on his radio program and a special
advisor to Sargent Shriver called from
Washington to say that Mr. Shriver
had been tremendously impressed. Vice-
President Humphrey seemed 10
Leumas also, and could we come to Wa
ington and. perhaps discuss cultural pos-
sibilities in the antipoverty field? Time
magazine reprinted the poems from Los
Angeles magazine with an article in the
“Education” section on new approaches
to school dropouts in the ghetto. Finally,
NBC-TY devoted an hour of prime time
to The Angry Voices of Walts—Johnie
Scott, Harry Dolan, Leumas Sirrah; James
Thomas Jackson, Birdell Chew and So-
nora McKeller reading their poems, es-
says and stories under the imaginative
direction of my brother, Stuart Schulberg,
whose camera roamed the streets of Watts,
from the soaring Simon Rodia towers to
the grubby back streets, as the writers of
Watts became their own narrators,

A moving poem such as Johnie Scott's

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PLAYBOY

172

Watts, 1966 could be brought to life
realistically on brooding, blistering 103rd
Sucet. But the abstract, metaphysical
poetry of Leumas Sirrah was a puzzling
challenge. "How would you illustrate
your poem Infinite? Stuart asked Leum
Leumas, high school dropout, on proba-
tion, police-harassed, penniless, living the
desperately marginal life of the man-child
in the unpromised land of Watts, went
off to meditate. In a few moments he re-
turned. His answer was a question: "Are
you able to photograph a teardrop?”
Stuart promised to try. For weeks, he
and his integrated camera crew, guided.
by our Workshop writers, roamed the
main streets and the back alleys of Watts
photographing and recording what had
been considered dangerously unphoto-
graphable—the angers and the fears and
the frustrations and the teardrops of the
inner ghetto. The program was presented
on the first anniversary of the holocaust
al reaction exceeded the

from coast to coast sounded as if they
been writen by Stuart Schulberg ог
Harry Dolan or Johnie Scott, NBC moni-
tors reported that there were more phone
calls and. leuers for this program than
for any since the Huntley-Brinkley tele-
t of the Goldwater Election Night
debacle.

1 do not mean to suggest that every
thing was hunky-dory. There was many
a hard day's night in the Coffee House.
The Man way still a target for abuse and
1 was the only one available. Young
тїз would walk up to our large circle
and heckle, “Absurd! A white man tying
to teach black mi What can a white
cat tell the brothers about ап? We've
got soul, man. You ain't got no soul. You
got white shit in your heart!” Other
ip the piano or the
bongos to drown out the poets or would
turn up the hi-fi until it sounded as loud

the sirens of the police cars forever.

screaming up and down 103rd Street, the
shrill and ever-present voice of the enemy.

One day we tried a writing exercise:
to choose the one word that would sum
up the aspirations of Watts, with
word explanation. Harry Dol.
chance." Birdell Chew said,
t Mayhand said, “Respect.” Leu-
Sirah said, “Identity.” Jimmy Sher-
man said, “Dignity, or pride.”

Some young painters and musicians
on the periphery of our group burst in
with fierce impatience

“Why fool around with a lot of fancy
words for what we want? We all know
what we want—l lom. It’s the one
word. The one true thing. We're tired of
all the maybes. We're tired of talking
about hopes. Without freedom, we aren't.
alive, We're walking dead men. We

an't w
Sodety . . -

"They were interrupted by a young man
who had taught himself to play moving
jazz on the clarinet and Hut What's
the use of writing what we want? We've
been trying to say what we want for
years, but who listens to us? We're not
people. If you really thought we were
ngs, you wouldn't allow us to
Just look up and down this
rubble hasn't even been
full of rats. АП of us
with rats. Uptown,
you're sleeping two in a king-sized bed
and we're sleeping four i gle bed.
A game of checkers or setting up little.
Teen Posts won't solve this. If we were
some foreign country like the Congo,
you'd be worried that we might go Com-
шм and you'd send us millions of dol-
Ins to keep us on your side; but here at
home, you just take us for granted. You
think you've got us on the end of your
string like a yo-yo. Well, we're not going
to hang on that string anymore. . . . I
tell you, мете ready to take our stand
here and to die for our freedom in the
streets of Watts.

Do these words frighten апа shake
you? I heard them weck after week. I
saw a young artist hang on the wall an
sketch dedicated “To

t for your President's Great

The
cleared away. Iv

street.

have been raised

my brother, а Ма
the white man's war in Vietnam.” T must
confess that many evenings T walked out
into the oppressive s of 103d
Street shaken and frightened by the
depth and intensity of the cumulative
anger.

A full year had passed. since the terri-
ble cost and the resultant creativity of
the fires of 1965. Despite the faint
claims of the Honorable John McCone,
in our debate in the Los Angeles Times,
there have been few objective change:
in Watts. А year Inter, there was still no
hospital, st ie theater, still no
recreation ce 9 transportation,
still no jobs, still no day-care nursery and
still no genuine concern from the city
authorities. And yet there were some
unmistakable signs that Watts was not
stagnating. It was undergoing some pro-
found psychological change. A local psy-

chiauist, D lerick J. Hacker, put it
this way:
What the McCone Commission

fails to understand is that from the
standpoint of the lower-class Negroes
ving in Watts, the riots . .
not riots at all but a revolution.
They thought of themselves as f
dom fighters liberating themselves
with blood and fire. It could be
argued that the Negro community
was much better after the riots than.
before. Because the riots served as a
safety valve against the feeling of
apathy that was the strongest. char-
acteristic of life in Watts.

. were

Camus, in his profound essay оп man
in revolt, might have been writing about
Watts 1965 when he said, “Resentment
has been defined as an autointoxication
—the evil secretion, sealed vessel, of
prolonged impotence. Rebellion, on the
‚ breaks the seal and allows the
It liber-

ad turns them into
a raging torrent.” And later, “The spirit
of rebellion can exist only in a society

where a theoretical eq concedes
great factual inequalitie

Albert Camus, amen. On
symposium discussing the
Watts, I had said that the black militancy,
the feeling that it was too late for intc-
gration, that the Blood had had it м
the Man, was tragic but understandable,
especially in a vast conglomerate city-
suburb such as Los Angeles, where it was
galling for the black man on the bottom.
to salute the flag of one city distinctly
divisible, with liberty and justice for the
affluent white and the complacent mid-
dle class. Having shucked apathy for
militancy, and subservience for a new
pride in Negritude, would che postrevolt
Aho-Americans of south Los Angeles ex-
pres their new attitude and personality
through more fixes and snipers and Molo-
tov cocktails or through creative acts of
selfdevelopment and self-fulfillme

The answer came in late summer
1966. when a new spirit of unity and a
fascinating ambivalence toward the
white man produced the Watts Summer
Festival. The angry young blacks who
found their poetic voices in the works of
our Workshop writers or through their
paintings and indigenous jazz were
ready to take to the streets. There was
talk that they would celebrate the Six
Days That Shook Los Angeles a усаг be-
lore by moving out into restricted neigh-
borhoods and burning Whitey out. Gun
stores reported a run on weapons in
white communities and black. Sounder
(or more creative) heads prevailed. Вис
they were not the city-hall Uncle Toms
пог the middle-class Negroes who had
“made it” and moved away from Watts
and south-central Los Angeles, never to
look back or lend a hand to their ghetto-
locked brothers. There was a new breed
of militant Negro leadership personified
by young mcn of proved ability, such as
Stan Sanders, the first. Rhodes schola:
from Watts (who now serves on the ad-
visory board of our Writers Workshop),
who was able to go to Oxford and later
to Yale Law School without taking the
r road to pasive, selbserving
middle-class values. Stan and a team of
young progressive nationalists decided to
turn a potential violent outbreak into a
peaceful demonstration of community
alliance and productivity. I referred to
ambivalence because the Waus Summer
Festival was a double-edged celebration:
If it resisted the temptation to invade the

ity

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PLAYBOY

174

“Hello, there. Gan I help you?”

white man’s terrain, it was also a joyous
celebration of a victory, a victory for
Tawlessness and disorder in search of
identity and freedom. Camus had writ-
ten the textbook, both on the revolt and.
‘on its celebration. Watts wa
е to please the white man, as Langs
ton Hughes’ telling essay on the Harlem
riot of 1964 describes whi
tan's warning, "Now Harlem, be

Harlem, behave yourself! Lie down,
Harlem!"
Waus—Augus 1966—was — neither

arling nor trying to play “good dog”
and sit up and do tricks for the happy
and relieved white man. It was celebrat-
ing a new-found sense of power. There
was dancing in the streets, dancing such
as Los Angeles has not seen since its true
Mexican fiesta days. And instead of fires
along Charcoal Alley Number One, there
were great tents displaying jazz groups,
exhibitions of sculpture and paintings.
There were street entertainers and street
plays that revived the flavor of com-
media dell’ arte. In the Collee House,
Jimmy Sherman presented his Ballad
from Watts. Studio Watts performed. its

own interpretation of Genes The
Blacks. And our Writers Workshop, now
grown to some 20 members, gave a

nightly program of readings—a historic
literary moment for Wats—the first
time its writers were being heard on a
we, reading from their own works.

For three days, this unique arts festi-
val went on; and lo—the miracle, in all
that time, even with the bars of 103rd
Street going full blast (and that's a blast,
baby!), there was not a single incident.
With white tourists all over Watts, not a
single ugly or dangerous moment. Here
at last was law and order. But who's
law?

In a rare moment of forbearance, the
nded Los Angeles
had agreed to with-
draw completely from “the curfew are:
the cityhall euphemism for the ghetto.
Instead, the policing was left to the
Watts Summer Festival Committee,
which drew on the young black national-
iss to maintain that magic balance
called "law and order." 1 saw youthful
Leroi Lam, foolishly accorded a full page
in Life in a story on black extremists,
cruising 103rd Street on а motor scooter,
courteously directing civilian traffic.
White visitors poured in from their com-
fortable pockets in the enormous pool
table of Los Angeles and were greeted
not only with hospitality but with un-
usual efficiency. The young men respon-
sible ated ап unprecedented

ization, the Community
Alert Patrol. Before and alter the Fes-
they used cars resembling the
feared black-and-white police cars, got
hold of cameras and walkie-talkie equip-
ment, and when arrests were being
made—always a tense moment when
white men are handcuffng and some-

had cr

times also cuffing black men in the ghetto
—the CAP was on hand to photograph
and record any use of excessive force.
Their presence produced an unusual
atmosphere of calm.

Since there is no border guard who
stands on the boundary between life and
1t, the ingenious self-protection and su-
pervision of the Watts Summer Festival
may be as creative as the contents of the
Festival itself. When our Workshop read-
ings were presented in the Watts Happen-
ing Coffee House, it was suggested that
we find an overall title. Johnie Scott
and some other articulate members were
critical of The Angry Voices of Walts,
because they felt the title was narrow
and self-limiting. “Of course we're angry,
but we're not only angry,
And others chimed in: “It sounds
we're only shouting and screaming, ‘Get
Whitey!” It seems to us we're also trying
to be thoughtlul or to тете
childhoods or to be self-cri
maybe even just funny once
ms added.
a vote, with various suggestions, and
after heated discussions (1 can hear Harry
Dolan saying, “What other kind do we
һауе in the W Writers Workshop?"),
there was a landslide victory for From
the Ashes. The writers of Watts were
expressing the hope not only of their
20-odd voices but of the entire com-
mur rom the ashes, out of the rub-
ble, out of apathy, despair, neglect,
hopelessness, physical and human ruin
might rise a black phoenix. "Our job is
nothing less than to rebuild this ghetto
from the ground up and from the inside
out," Sonora McKeller said. “To regener-
ate the ghetto as the Jews did when they
were in the minority bag on the East
Side of New York.”

It was in this spirit that Sonora and
other writers in the Workshop read
proudly from their works at the sig-
Watts Festival of 1966.
was merely an uneasy truce.
Once more, the mailed fist of. the feared.
and fearful L.A. P.D. came down on
Watts. Watts was marked as the hard pit
of the bitter ghetto fruit and there was
constant harassment. Young men were
picked up lor loitering, for being on the
streets after midnight, for having no
definite address, 1 on suspicion for all
sorts of horrendous crimes. Our Write
Workshop was no special flower standing
taller than the weeds of Waus. When
the troopers struck, our young poets felt
the blows along with the others. The
Watts Happening Coffee House was a
particular target. To the unemployed,
dropout, angry, talented young people of
103га Sıreer, the Coffee House had spe-
cial meaning, because it wasn't а Tee
Post, a government handout, but thei
their very own—from the painti
covering the walls to the furniture they
ad made with their own hands, It was
not strictly legal, but three or four of our

was put to

on. the sofas
ause they were

young writers were sleep
of the Colfee House, bei

homeless. Several of them had been liv-
ing on the streets since they were 15 or
©

16. Young m
Collee House were
ous officers of the law and forced hu-
К ngly to spreadcagle against the
wall while they were searched
nd dope. Young me
some of our teenage poets,

rging from the
tercepted by nerv-

arms

sce the hated police cars . The
white helmets would assume that flight
was а confession of guilt. "I don't think
they were arresting us as individuals,
said Leumas Sirrah, our homeless poet
philosopher, who reminded some readers
of Blake and others of a primitive Rim-
baud, “I think they were arresting our

On ше day the 18-year-old Le
Sirrah was to receive our poetry awa
in the Westminster as-
sembly hall, he was in jail “on suspicion
of armed robbery.” Some of his friends
from the Workshop were with him when
he was busted. They knew he had never
carried а gun. We wanted Leumas out of
jail to receive his award, And зо
likely conversation occurred. Talking to

nas

a lieutenant in charge of this great
armed-robbery case at the 77th Street
, "I don't know whether

Precinct, 1 sa
or not you realize it, Lieutenant, but you
have one of our best young writers in
there. I'm very impressed with hi
poeuy" To which the lieutenant re-
sponded, “And I'm very impressed. with
his ability to get arrested.” (Leuma:
that time, had one previous arrest for
trespassing, in search of a place to sleep,
when he was 16) “Is that his ability or
your ability?” I asked the 1

And there you have it. The
confrontation. The 77th Street Precinct,
with which our Workshop seems to be
involved in a continuing dialog, looks on
Leumas Sirrah as ral enemy, as
suspected criminal, as а potenti
ace to society. We look on Leumas as a
ıl poet, as à potential artist who has
arvived miraculously the fetid streets of
a poet of promise, as a young

s n

nat

ment of American
We turned to our old fiend "Golden
Boy” Aw Aragon (the greatest boxing
а ory), who

was now a bail bondsman with a card
that carried the old Golden Boy toucl
“TIL get you out if it takes ten years.”
The Golden Boy had Leumas out in time
to stand up and accept his prize at our
first Waus Writers’ Awards, Leumas was
photographed and interviewed. He shied
away from publicity. There were televi-
sion news cameras that he tried to avoid.
he more the police see me, the more
they'll arrest me," he said. 1 thought he

175

PLAYBOY

176

was exaggerating. But the next day,
Leumas was arrested again for “armed
robbery.” It happened that this alleged

crime took place exactly at the time Leu-
receiving his parchment at the

mas
Wesuninsier assembly. Again I argued
with the 77th Street Precinct. I also dis-
cussed it with Leumas' probation office
“This isn't law enforcement, it’s clearly
I said. This time, there were
hundreds of witneses to texily as to
where Leumas was on the morning of
the crime. Even the television cameras.

Father Morris Samuel, a swinging white
1 priest on the staff of the
Negro Westminster

Episco
almost-100-percent
Neighborhood Asou
the 77th Street Precinct
once again, without Leumas ever being
brought before a judge, the charges
were chopped.

But the arrest record was growing.
The 77th Street Precinct's ability to ar-
rest Leumas Sirrah was increasingly im-
pressive. Soon its sheet would be so long

that young Leumas would be virtually
unemployable or unable to complete his
education, despite his ragged dreams of
going on to college. Leumas was at
our home resting up and catching hi
breath (and, as usual, writing poetry) for
a few days when Edward Р. Morgan
dropped in. The distinguished news
commentator later described Leumas as
a slight, soft-voiced but outspoken drop-
out.” Morgan asked him to what he
owed his development as a poet. “Partly
to life," Leumas said. “To whoever it is
that I am. Partly to Mr. Schulberg and
the Writers Workshop. I was one of the
first members.” He paused, and then
added, absolutely deadpan (and I am
never quite sure when Leumas is putting
us on and when he is putting us off), "I
also ought to thank the police depart-
ment. The police have presented me
with an opportunity to put my thoughts
in writing

Captain Tom King of the 77th (who
later did an outstanding job of trying to

prevent Harry Dolan’s nationally ac-
Claimed teleplay Losers Weepers from
being produced in its natural locale in
Watts), may not realize what a center for
the arts he is conducting in his celebrated
jail. There is no question but that not
only Leumas Sirrah and Harry Dolan
but the entire Watts Writers Workshop
owe Captain King and his unsmiling
lieutenants and sergeants а debt of grati-
tude for their unusual contribution to the
arts of Watts. Any moment now, they
тау apply, as we have, for a grant from
the National Endowment for the Arts
and the Humanities.

In a teal if inadvertent sense, Captain
King may also be credited as one of
the founders of the Frederick Douglass
Writers House that has risen from the
ashes at 98th and Beach Streets, a few
blocks down from Westminster, in the
heart of. Watts. For it was after the sec
ond, or perhaps the third arrest of Leu
mas, alter а prouacied in the
county jail for some other of our Work
shop poets, during a period in which 1
often found myself roused in the small
hours for the latest emergency, that I
came to a full awareness of what I had
begun. It had been nane or shortsighted
or callow to think that I could go to
Watts for three hours of a single after-
noon once a week. Johnie Scot had
discovered in the course of his creative
collapse at Harvard that you can
boy out of the ghetto, but you
the ghetto out of the boy. Seem!
remote in Beverly Hills, I was suffe
related experience. The midnight emer
gency phone calls. The writer with whon
I remonstrated that I could not read a
novel in scratchy longhand and who
pounded the table in anger and said,
“Goddamn it, I had a typewriter, saved
up for three months to buy a secondhand
portable. Вис I had to pawn it, goddamn
it, to get five dollars to keep from starv-
ing.” And the unemployed and homeless
18-year-old (not Leumas this time) who
started swaying away from his chair
dass until he was about to slump to the
floor. Was he sick? I asked him. No, he
said, it was simply that he had not eaten
for two days.

Then it hit me. А creative writin,
class in Watts was fine, as far as it went
but it didn't go very far if the writers
were homeless and hungry and couldn't
afford typewriters or even the most basi
writing supplies. Most of these youn;
ers would fall apart, break up on the
rocks of poverty and prejudice, because
they had no address, no base, no center,
no anchor. That discovery was the gene-
sis of Douglass House, named in honor
of Frederick Douglass, the runaway slave
who became one of the most powerful
speakers in the cause of abolition, who
founded and edited the influe:

al news-

paper The North Star and who wrote
Му Bondage and My Freedom. Frederick
Douglass had fought his way up from
slavery, from the cruel beatings and heavy
chains of a professional slave breaker, to
discover the power of the word. A slave
of illiteracy, of the cold-blooded system
of illiteracy, he had become his own
master and a master of the language of
his land. It was Frederick Douglass who
wrote:

1f there is no struggle, there is no
progress.

Those who profess to favor frec-
dom, and yet depreciate agitation,
аге men who want crops without
plowing up the ground. They want
rain without thunder and lightning.
They want the ocean without the
awful roar of its waters.

The beginnings of Douglass House
could not have been more unprepossess-
ing. We drove up and down the streets
of Watts looking for vacant houses until
we found a ninc-room house, literally in
ruins, but with possibilities. All the win
dows were shatiered. Glass and unspeak-
able debris littered every room. It could
be rented for $95 per month. I thought I
could swing that personally while I
worked on some primitive plan to reno-
vate and support the house. The writers
themselves cleared away the litter, al-
though we were somewhat shorthanded,
because three of our youngest members
were off on a month's sabbatical (again,
creatively productive) in the county jail.
How to raise the money to rebuild the
house, furnish it, equip it with type-
writers, a reference library and the other
tools of our trade, pay the salaries of a
resident manager, a secretary and an
editorial assistant? For it was both grati-
fying and alarming to find ourselves be
coming а kind of spontancous institution,
with frequent requests for literary con-
tributions, for appearances on TV and
radio programs and at creative
cational seminars and confer
press interviews with individual writers.
The BBC wanted to film readings to be
telecast in England. West magazine
commissioned a piece by James Thomas
Jackson on the founding of Douglass
House. Irving Stone had expressed his
astonishment at the quality of the poetry
of Scout, Sherman and Sirrah. Would he
conuibute $25 per month or $300 per
year to support Douglass House? Yes, he
would, and so would associates in his
informal writers’ circle—Irving Wallace.
Professor Stanley Wolpert, of the history
department at UCLA, Profesor Allan
Nevins, historians Mort Lewis and Jus-
tin Turner. We began to reach out to
friends across the country and the world
and, almost magically, it seemed, checks
began to pour into our Douglass House
account, from James Baldwin in Istanbul,

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PLAYBOY

178

“The way I see it, if you kids hadn't hipped me to
that new mouthwash, J wouldn't have been invited to
that party, and I wouldn't be pregnant now."

from Irwin Shaw in Klosters, $
land, from the Richard Burtons in
Rome, from Steve Allen and Tra Gersh-
win in Hollywood, Herbert Gold in
San Francisco, Senator Robert F. Ken-
nedy and Art Buchwald in Washington,
Richard Rodgers, Ann Dore
Schary, Paddy Ci Frank
Loesser in New York, Harry Golden
North Carolina, Hodding Carter in Mis-
sissippi, Elia Kazan in Connecticut, John
Steinbeck in Sag Harbor.

Steinbeck’s check
an interesting lewer:

1 saw the product of your project
on Channel 13. І was astonished at
the quality of the material. Some of
it was superb. For one thing, I was
impressed with the growth of your
people. I am so tired of one-note
writing, sad homosexuality is not
enough as a working tool for a writ-
er. Your people have learned early
that one is mot aware enough to
scream with pain if one has not had
glimpses of ecstasy, And both
long in our craft—else there would
be neither.

Then John Stei
man, an old

beck, ever а practical
hioned American who

can fix things and make th
hands, added a paragraph that. was char-
acteristically pragmatic. Writing individ-
ual app to 50 or 60 writer friends
m enormous personal effort, he
d. He was a member of the
Tor the ? al Foundation for
the Arts. He would recommend to Roger
Stevens (who had sent in his own person-
al check for $300), head of the Na 1
dowment for the Arts, that the Watts
Writers Workshop receive a grant from
the Foundation. It seemed to Stei
that the literary workshop we had going
in Watts exactly the kind of project
the National Foundation would want to
endorse.

By irony, or signs in the heavens, or
crazy luck, which may all amount to the
same thing, the day that we were to
deliver our written appeal and budget to
tion was the same day а dele-
gation from our Workshop was invited to
testily before the Ribicoff subcommittee
ings on urban dislocation,
1, decomposition and every-
i at the core

ngs with his

mlesmess and city planlessness
Mumford long ago prophesied
would haunt the 215. Century if we did

not bestir ourselves to find bold creative
solutions in the 20th, Н Dolan
looked at Senator Ribicoff and said:
will not let you off so easily as the Ger-
mans claimed after the slaughter of the
Jews, ‘We did not know." Huntley-
Brinkley played back part of Johnie
Scott's testimony on the evening of his
appearance and The New York Times
judged it worthy of two columns of news
print and а follow-up editorial by James
Resto

Written statements by veteran ghetto
antipoverty fighters Sonora McKeller
and Birdell Chew were also entered in
the Congressional Record and we c:
presed our regret that all the membe
of the Frederick Douglass Writers Hou
could not be present, for each onc would
have had something pertinent, some
g allembracing and at the same time
individual to contribute. My own testi-
mony Gune to this conclusi

“If instead of the creative talents we
have begun to wp in Wats—and Watts
is everywhere, from south Los Angeles

and San Francisco to Hough in Cleve
land, the south sides of Chicago and
Philadelphia, and Harlem—il, instead of

ative talent to be discovered un-
derground, another kind of treasure
going to waste; if oil was being
bronght to the surface but instead was
being allowed to seep through the
ground and be wasted, then I can hear
the business community, the practica
business-minded, Solid.citizen$ of Amer-
i Wait! What a waste! We must
annel it! Money is being lost."
“Well, this is another kind of oil,
human resoure
seeping down through the earth, through
the underground, the subculture. And
surely it calls for an equal amount of
efficiency, an equal amount of fervor if
we are not to continue to squander a
part of our wealth, our spiritual wealth,
our young manhood, and particularly the
black young manhood that not only
Scott and Dolan but a score of our writ-
ers could testily is going to wagic waste
in all the ghettos of America.

"When I first put up that notice,
“CREATIVE WRITING CL п Watts, I had.
no idea what 1 might discover. But I do
now. I have illusions that our Work
shop has cornered all the writing talent
in Watts. New writers wander into Doug-
Jass House with their stories and poems
in hand almost every day. Not to men-
ion the musical talent, the painting and
sculpture such as Noah Purifoys imag-
inative junk put together and re-created
literally from the rubble of the revolt. Or
the natural acting talent that may be
symbolized by Sonora McKeller, an
amateur who morc than held her own
with tremendous clfcct in the midst of
powerful professional Negro actors in
Mr. Dolan's Losers Weepers. Deep into

not

my second year with the Douglass
House writers of Watts, I am convinced
that there are Leumas Sirrahs and Harry
d James T.
ley Mimses and Alvin
America, wasting away
tors ог menials or unemployed. I
am reminded of Gray's Elegy—olten the
poem comes back to haunt mc—and it
тау yet come to haunt us all if we do
not heed its lesson: Thomas Gray walk-
ing through an obscure graveyard and
wondering what would have happened if
these people unknown in their potters’
graves had not been neglected and over-
looked, what might have happened if
they had been given their [ull share,
their full. chance:

Perhaps in this neglected spot is
laid

Some heart once pregnant
celestial fire;

Hands, that the rod
might have sway'd,

Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

with

of empire

“And a few verses later:

Some village Hampden that with
dauntless breast

The little tyrant of his fields with-
stood,

Some mute, inglorious Milton, here
may rest,

Some Cromwell guiltless of his
country's blood."

The writers of Douglass House—and
the Douglass Houses waiting to be
founded all over America—may or may
not be Miltons. But for too long they
have been mute and inglorious. My ex-
perience convinces me that the young,
angry social worker who first greeted me
in Watts was telling me the stone truth.
"There in the poolroom lurks the nuclear
physicist, lost to drug addiction through
criminal neglect and want of motivation,
There on the street corner drifts the
young poct who flunked English in
tenth grade. And, finally, who is flun
—he or we? The society, the school is
flunking. The substandard ghetto school,
the raceridden
dropout of them
don’t think abo
too short and the cost too рте,
finding these young men of mysterious
depths, of talents neglected, before the
poet or the lute player goes to his pau-
pers inglorious grave. He may be only
one among a thousand, or 10,000. But
he may find, like Ralph Ellison, Claude
Brown—perhaps now Harry Dolan or
Johnie Scou—that he speaks for 100.000
or for 20,000,000. His single candle may
light thousand thousand candles. And
the light and warmth of these candles
may help redeem and regenerate the

core of the ghetto, that decomposed inner
city, waiting either for a phoenix to rise
from the ashes or for bigger and more
terrible fires.

The ambivalence and ferocious com-
plexity that I have found in my two
years in Watts are expressed. profoundly
in the wide range of attitudes and feel.
ings within our Workshop, now grown to
30 members, with 35 recent applicants.
There is a young clement with deep di
trust of the white man and with strong
leanings toward black nationalism and
sm. There are older members, no
less militant but oriented toward Ameri-
can justice in the form of int
Some are swayed in both directions.
‘There may even be a few of what old
and loving but also firm and fierce
dell Chew calls "crawling, creeping
Unde Toms.” Somehow they have
learned to coexist in the Writers Work-
shop, containing their differences and
even their opposite poles.

I have been asked if I am not afraid of
the angry young men of Watts who are
said to contemplute guerrilla warfare. T
am more afraid of the greed and
selfishness and the blind intransigence
and the appalling ignorance of socia
dynamics that build concentration-camp
walls around enclaves like Watts.

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WISCONSIN 53212 | FINE SHOEMAKERS SINCE 1867

179

Se

AMERICA’S GREATEST SLACKS

1STYLE FIT QUALITY

FEATURING BLENDS WITH DAC R O N°

POLYESTER

BACK TO CAMPUS
(continued from page 144)

convene over Di favorite cup—the
mint julep—their favorite garb is a pair
of casual slacks, a buttondown shirt and
a V-neck sweater in lamb's wool or cash-
mere. Crews, turtlenecks and mock tur-
tles (the latter two in darker tones) are
often coupled with a sports jacket and
slacks.

Walk shorts: You'd be wise to check
out the school of your choice before in-
vesting in walk shorts. Some administra-
tions prohibit them on campus. Styles
to consider include new hotcolored
corduroys and chopped-off denims.

Outerwear: Old man winter often
takes parts of the South by storm. If
youre in an area where cold snaps are
common, have on hand a hip-length cor-
duroy coat and, for dressier occasions, a
camclcolored topcoat. You'll also find
that a plaid or check zip-lined raincoat
and a British-type trench coat go to stylish
lengths to protect you from the elements,
For less inclement winter weather, a
Dacron and cotton poplin shell jacket
should serve you comfortably.

Shoes: Add а couple of pairs of loafers
to your shoe collection. If you're near the
ocean, you'll find that an extra pair of
canvas-top deck shoes will come in handy
in case a fraternity brother (or a female
campusmate) from a seaside city invites
you for a sail on the family yacht.

Formalwear: Southern schools go for
lavish cotillions, carnival balls and for-
mal house parties. If you plan to include
this type of festivity on your social calen-
dar, you'd be wise to purchase a dinner
et in black, white or madras, de-
pending on individual campus norms.

тик MIDWEST: An active interest in in-
tercollegiate sports strongly affects Mid-
western students’ clothing choices; the
rugged all-American look is preferred
10 Mod garb. Legendary Midwest winters
sometimes arrive sooner than expected,
so wise students make sure they won't
end up out in the cold by making their
selections early.

5 Have on hand at least one dark
suit with vest and one conservatively
patterned. model in a lighter shade. The
three-button Ivy look is still mast popu-
аг, but double-breasted shapcd-suit styles
are gradually gaining acceptance.

Sports jackets: Here in the heardand
of America, the ubiquitous navy-bluc
blazer is all-important. But you'll also
bold-plaid sports jackets to
wear with coordinating slacks.

Slacks: Small-pauterned slacks in а va-
riety of weights have earned all-campus
acceptance, as have solidcolor cordu-
roys, poplins and low-rise denims. Im
portant: Don't forget to pack at least one
pair of brown or dark pray heavy tweeds.

Shirts: Conservative Midwesterners still
prefer oxford buttondowns to all other
shirt styles. As soon as Indian summer

ie’

want seve

Listen!

Do you really
need concert
hall sound in
your living
room?

Probably not.

As a matter of fact, you
might not even like it. Besides,
you really don't need a wall
full of speakers to be a pretty
sophisticated component hi-fi
owner.

And you don’t have to learn

ge of the audiophile

Follow these four simple

rules

1. Before you shop, decide
whether you want just back-
ground music or if you'll be
doing critical listening.
When setting a budget,
don't skimp on the speak-
ers. They're equally as
important as the other
components.

Determine whether book-
shelf or floor-standing
speakers best harmonize
with your decor.

Listen to the entire com-

ponent system you plan to

buy to be certain it creates

a pleasing sound to your

cars,

A good place to start is at
your Jensen dealer. He'll help
you put together a package
that makes sense for you.

You might insist on Jensen
speakers, because no matter
what price range you choose,
you can be sure they are the
best you can buy.

(Incidentally, we do make
speakers for concert halls.
Lincoln Center chose ours.)

e
Jensen

Jensen Manufacturing Division, The Muter Company
6601 South Laramie Avenue, Chicago, Ilinois 60638

ends, heavy wool Pendleton shirts appear

and continue to be worn throughout
the winter.
Sweaters: Wool V-necks are a fash-

ionable must, along with bulkystyle
cable patterned crew-neck pullovers. Sur-
prisingly enough, turtlenecks have not
as yet been widely accepted by Mid-
westerners.

Outerwear: PI

id bench warmers, s
and fleecclined hip-
length coats are all favored. For more
formalized outings, you'll want a polo or
chesterfield overcoat and a single breasted
aincoat with zip-in lining.

Shoes: Arm yourself for the inevitable
blizzard blitz with a couple of pairs of
lined mid-calf-length boots in rough
hide. Sneakers are the favored footwear
during fall and late spring.

THE SOUTHWEST: Students in this sec-
ппу have painted a fashion
ture all their own by tastefully com-

conservative Ivy-inspired styles
the latest in way-out Western

with
wearables.
Suits: A dark vested model is preferred.

studying
Sunday-mor

1g go-to-church-meeting ses-

sions. Other Southwest-favored styles to
select include pl
warm

ds, pin stripes and, for

weather. a lighttan suit that
bly should be worn with a wide,
terned. tie,

Sports jackets: A mavyblue double-
breasted blazer is this year’s casual
favorite. In addition, round up a thid
corduroy sports jacket or two and a light-
weight model bold solid shade.

Slacks: Make your selection from
permanentpress wash-and-wear styles
vailable in checks, plaids, stripes and
dark worsteds. Wheat jeans, white poplins
rally worn to class.
often sport

and seersuckers are u:

Shirts: Southwesterners
buttondowns in such offtrail shades as
_raspbery and peach in addition to
donning more conservative offerings in
blue and white. Turtleneck and polo-
neck knit sport shirts also have a wide
following.

Sweaters: Down here, sweaters have
found a home on the range. All styles,
from the clasic cardigan to crew-neck
bulky knits, are being worn. Indude
at Teast one worsted wool high-V-neck
pullover, a Shetland undeneck and a
cashmere crew.

Walk shorts: You'll want plenty of
denims and corduroys, as well as a ran-
dom sampling of madras and poplin
styles.

Outerwear: Although Southwesterners
usually don't have to face lengthy frigid
freezes, an occasional “Northern” storm
does blow South, necessitating a need

for cold-weather garb. Be prepared for

the sudden change by having on hand a
cotton duck double-breasted outercoat
with wooblanket lining, several light-
weight golf jackets to wear over heavy

sweaters, a herringbone or houndstooth
topcoat and a reversible raincoat.

THE WEST coast: In spite of the public-
ity given to kookie California clothes, the
majority of West Coast collegians prefer
to make the scene in styles that more
closely resemble Ivy League than avant-
garde.

Suits: Let the thermometer be your
guide when it comes to selecting fabric
weights. Generally speaking, you'll want
a naturalshoulder dark three-button
model with vest, a double-breasted gray
wool flannel and a single-breasted chalk
stripe.

Sports jackets: Clasic tweeds and
Shetlands, а navy-blue blazer (either
ngle- or double-breasted), wide-track.
ripes and bold plaids are all being worn
from Reed to San Diego State. Unless
an evening out is superdressy, most
West Coast collegians preler to don
sports jacket and slacks rather than a
suit.

Slacks: Take along several hopsacks
and cavalry twills, plus denims, poplins,
corduroys and worsteds. For a colorful
change, pick up several pairs of bold-
patterned slacks—they're great for pool-
and deckside lounging.

Shirts: Pink buttondown.

shirts are

being worn on some campuses. For day-
me doings, you'll want plenty of solid-
color knit pullovers with open necks, as
well as turtle and mock turtle ones,
Sweaters: The West Coast, like the
Southwest, is strong on sweaters. Pay
articular attention to bulky fisherman's
knits in natural colors, wool crew-neck
pullovers and Shetland turtlenecks.
Outerwear: Farther North, you'll need
а double-breasted Mackinaw jacket, a
dark-tone topcoat, several raincoats with
zipin linings and a belted hiplengih
suede coat. Students in warmer sections
cin shed the heavy duds and concen-
с on acquiring several golf jackets, a
hip-length corduroy coat and a nylon

sailing parka with hood.
AIL across the continent, collegiate
dothing styles are shifting. The wadi-

tional Ivy League look is still favored by
the majority of students, but European-
pired fashions, such as the shaped
suit, are also being worn, For a look at
what bestdressed men on campus are
wearing at five geographically diverse
schools—Dartmouth, Duke, Wisconsin
Houston and the University of
at Berkeley—we commend to your at
tention the photo section of this feature.

ог

“I can't sland his holier-than-thou attitude."

181

PLAYBOY

Jif
ҮЙ

LIT

р

" MI Ais

me

К ж

NEIL SIMON }лту-фопе specialist

THOUGH HIS CHILDHOOD WISH to be a doctor never materialized,
Neil Simon has cured innumerable cases of ennui and melan-
choly—all with laughter. The 40-year-old Bronx native—son of a
garment salesman whose main desire for his sons was security
—is securely ensconced as America’s funniest playwright (Come
Blow Your Horn, Little Me, Barefoot in the Park, The Odd
Couple, Sweet Charity, The Star-Spangled Girl), Simon come-
dics aren't faddishly apocalyptic—they're gentle and familiar.
A modest man who claims о be funny only at the typewriter
(‘I couldn't tell a joke if you put a gun to my head"), Simon
works daily in a neat office on East 57th Strect, where he
laughs at his lines and rewards himself with cookics. He began
writing in high school, continued in the Air Force and, after a
year in Warner Bros.’ mail room, got his start—with older brother
Danny—as а gag-writer for Robert Q. Lewis. During a lucrative
but tedious decade, “Doc” turned out material for Jerry Lester,
Phil Silvers, Sid Caesar, Red Buttons, and revues at Tamiment,
the Pennsylvania resort where he met his wife, Joan—but in the
carly morning hours, he was busy moonlighting a play about the
Simon brothers’ efforts to escape their all-too-loving family. The
result, Come Blow Your Horn, opened on Broadway in 1961, To-
Simon earns $20,000 a week in royalties (his life, he insists,
remains "very ordinary"); he’s been the first playwright since
1920 to author four simultaneous Broadway hits; the film of
Barefoot in the Park has been released; and The Odd Couple—
purchased by Paramount before the play was written, on the
strength of Simon's taped synopsis—is now being shot. Currently
working on Plaza Suite, 2 new play in which a middleaged
couple use their onetime honeymoon site to plot their divorce,
Simon feels driven to make his creations “more and more hu-
man,” not to strive for “great social importance.” But when plays
make people feel it's OK to be human and fallible—as his infalli-
bly do—there’s no question about their having social importance.

ИГИН ЧН 1

И Ј

ME TR

JAMIE WYETH the rising son

SINCE THE sPLAsH made by the initial exhibit of his paintings
last winter at New York's Knoedler Gallery, the 20-year-old son
of renowned artist Andrew Wyeth has been patiently plying his
t and “waiting for things to calm down.” Says Jamie, a prac-
titioner of poetic realism in the tradition of his father and of
his grandfather, illustrator N. C. Wyeth, "I was pictured by the
press as a white knight charging into the New York art world,
and people came to the show with reviews in hand." Jamie's
indsively assured style is the product of years of labor; since
leaving school after the sixth grade to be privately tutored, he's
worked steadily under the critical eye of his father to develop
his craft at the family home in the tiny Pennsylvania hamlet of
Ads Ford, where he has his own studio. One of his weck-
ends cach month is currently preempted by the Air National
> d, for which he wields a paintbrush illustrating the Guard's
azine; he is also involved in discussing sales prospects for his
recently finished painting of John F. Kennedy: "Since the fuss
about my uncle Peter Hurd's Presidential portrait, the press can't
t to see mine." Jamie's subjects usually must endure a month
and a half of daylong posing, which is why the artist prefers to
t people he knows, and does few commissions: “A portrait

has to be in tune with what the model is thinking. You have to
remove yourself; the object is the important thing, and each
person dictates a different style. My ideal would be to have an
exhibit of portraits painted so that visitors to the gallery would
think they were all the work of different artists.” Jamie, though
idols are his father and the late Edward Hopper, values the
work of some pop artists ("It shows a turn back to the representa
tional, since theres more use of the object”), optimistically b
lieves American painting is enjoying a renascence of popular
interest: “It’s been evident for about three years—the major mu-
seums are all so crowded.” And Jamie—who paints daily, whether
he’s “inspired” or not—is doing his best to keep them that way.

BUDDY RICH a different drummer

TALKING TO THE ETERNAL DRUMMERDOY Bernard “Buddy” Rich—a
man who has survived three heart attacks—limp and wet as a
noodle in a nightclub dressing room between sets, опе wonders
how he can charge into the fray night after night: but charge he
docs. Bandleader Rich is the explosive catalyst for an aggreg
tion that is one of the most dynamic and exciting in the biz
today (“Why? Because we're playing the ‘now’ sound. The music
of 20 years ago is dead."). Buddy, at 50, spots most of the mem
bers of his youthful organization a’ good quarter century, but
bows to no one in energy. outlook and appearance. He has been
called a "freak" by an awed member of the drum fraternity,
because he practices not at all; yet the consensus is that he still
boasts the fastest hands in the business. Nongladhand ("If you
like my playing, never mind me”) Rich's adventures in the skin
trade began when his vaudevillian parents toted their 18-month-
old Wunderkind and his drums on stage as part of their act
Five years later, Buddy—billed as “Traps, the Drum Wonder"—
was doing a high-priced single on the prestigious Keith circuit
And when Rich was barely old enough to drink the booze at New
York's Hickory House, he was playing there with Joe Marsala's
band. From Marsala, he moved on to Bunny Berigan, Artie
Shaw, the first of his four stints with Tommy Dorsey, and
Harry James. It was while with the latter in Las Vegas that
Buddy cut the silver cord of being the top-salaried sideman in
musicdom and took his curent, astonishingly successful flier as
a bigband leader. Since the band's debut a lile over а year
ago, Rich and Company—working a book that ranges from rock
to West Side Story—have been S.R., O. in club es all over
this country and in Europe; they've becn part of the summer
replacement for the Jackie Gleason show and have done concert
dates with Frank Sinatra. Not one to hide his talent under a
bushel, the tellitike-Hitis Rich, in pinpointing his current suc-
cess, says, “I am the greatest!” All we can add is, "Hear! Hear!”

183

PLAYBOY

184

PLAYBOY FORUM

as a soprano and can be spotred 20 fcet
away by amy sophisticated student of
psychology.

(Name withheld by request)
Trenton, New Jersey
Bird watching is actually а sport re-
quiring much less training than queen
spotting. Contrary to your self-delusion,
the majority of homosexuals do not have
any visible stigmata by which they can be
recognized. Skilled Kinsey investigators,
trained in the social sciences, could iden-
tify only 15 percent of the homosexuals
in their male study group before inter-
viewing them.

HOMOSEXUALITY AND HYPOCRISY

In the July Playboy Forum, you cx-
presed hope that the Supreme Court
would not uphold the Immigration Scrv-
ice's attempt to deport а Canadian for
his homosexual activitics. Apropos the
Immigration officials’ claim that homo-
sexuals are “psychopathic personalitics,”
you quoted Judge Leonard Moore of
the U.S. Court of Appeals as saying
that "so broad a definition might well
comprise more than a few members of

(continued from page 81)

legislative bodies" This was an acute
observation, but the Supreme Court ma
jority ignored it, ruling that homosexuals
are, indeed, “psychopathic” and, as such,
сап be deported.

Justice William O. Douglas, in his dis-
sent from the Court's six-to-three тш
repeated Judge Moore's point, stat
“It is common knowledge that in d
century homosexuals have risen high in
our own public service—both
gress and in the Executive |
have served with distinct

As if to prove that these two distin-
guished jurists were not talking nonsense,
Federal authorities recently announced—
fter breaking up an extortion ring that
blackmailed homosexuals—that one of
the victims of this racket had been a
Congressman and had paid the gang
$40,000. This suggests the follow
Suppose that Congress docs mot consist
of superior and unearthly beings but
of persons similar to the population at
large. According to Kinsey, the number
of Americans who arc exclusively homo-
sexual is nearly four out of 100. If this
figure should hold true of the august
beings in Washington, then approximate-

“You appeared in my dreams last night—
but only as a walk-on—no lines."

ly 20 of our 500.044 legislators would
fall into this group. That, indeed. would.
justify Judge Moore's estimate that
"more than a few" Congressmen might
qualify for the Immigration Service”
broad definition of psychopathy

In this light, it is a dismaying example
of hypocrisy that no Congressman has
arisen ıo denounce the injustice in this
deportation case and to propose legis
tion that would end this medieval gov
ernmental supervision of people's private
sex lives.

Joseph Murray
Honolulu, Haw:

INTERMARRIAGE BAN STRUCK DOWN
Sixteen єз had laws against misce-
genation. Now, with the Supreme Court
ruling (in favor of the appropriately
named Mr. and Mrs. Loving) that the
state of Virginia's statute outlawing
the marriage of whites and nonwhites
cannot stand in the light of the 14th
Amendment, all those laws are struck
from the books. In doing away with
these disgraceful antimiscegenation laws,
the Supreme Court has brought America
onc step farther away from barbarism,

The Court's decision is worth quoting:
s one of the ights
mental to our very c:
ence amd survival. To deny this funda-
mental freedom оп so
basis as the racial clas
in these statutes, cl.
subversive of the р
at the heart of the 14th Amendmen
surely to deprive all the state’s citizens
of liberty without due process of law.
The 14th Amendment requires that the
freedom of choice to mary not be
estricted by invidious l discrimi-
nations.”

This decision affirms a principle of
American democracy: As long as the
actions of individuals do not infringe on
the liberty of others, the state no
right to interfere. When this principle is
fully applied to sex and m . to
communications, to food and drink and
to all other aspects of private life, this
will truly be the free country the found-
ing fathers intended,

Richard Butler
San Francisco, Ca

vil

of m

BLESS THE WORKING GIRL

Since 1 have become engaged, I have
given some thought to the que:
what might bı at some future
time, through. pregnancy, separation or
illness, 1 might mot be able to satisfy
my husband.

l think, in that case, if my husband
should feel the need of a woman, I
would rather he seek a professional pros-
titute than a “nice girl.” I feel u
sex, as with any other human action, you
have to pay some kind of a price, and 1
would rather the price be in money than

tion of

best

with

п other demands or involvements.

A girl becomes ly involved with
а man either because he pays her or be-
cause her emotions attract her to him. In
the latter case, if he, in turn, gets emo-
ally attached to her, his marriage is
in wouble. If he doesn’t care about her
and just leads her on, he is betraying her
and will feel guilty later.

For this reason, I defend the “worki
girl." Think of all the men she has
to wives and
her than

no

price mere
Betty Gabricl

Miami Beach, Florida

PROSTITUTION IN NEW YORK

The sticetwalkersol New York City gor
1 break this past spring when Police
Commissioner Howard R. Leary changed
the procedures under which prostitutes
are tried. For the past 30 years, it has
been customary in Women's Court for
the arresting officer to act as prosecutor,
ing defendants and attacking

ordered this
tice stopped, “Where the ar
sting officer and the prosecutor are in а
sense but one, the theory of checks
сеў Г.
But, with the policemen bowing out and
nobody from the district attorney's office
stepping in, all women who have plead-
ed not guilty in recent trials gouen
olf. since the judge ako felt it improper
Henge their testimony.

This state of affairs is no doubt too
good to last, but it is to be hoped that
it indicates a first step toward a hu
mane treatment. of prostitutes that takes
into account their long-neglected civil
liberties

Hank Brummer
New York, New Yo

PROSTITUTION IN NEVADA
In your Philosophy installment on
prostitution, you wrote that “in Americ
prostitution is а crime in every state and
the prostitute is a criminal.” Since when
did Nevada cease being a state? Prosti-
tution is /egal in 15 of the 17 counties
in Nevada. The counties in which it is
not legal are Washoe and Clark, 1 would
ppreciate it if you would correct the
ment in your next issue,
Sgt. W. Cleveland
APO San Francisco, California
Sorry, Sergeant, the oldest profession is
not legal in Nevada. You have apparently
been taken in by a widespread myth,
stemming primarily from three sources.
One of these is the fact thut the Nevada
penal code does not list any penalty for
the prostitute under “Pandering, Prosti-
tution апа Disorderly Houses"—where
one would logically look for it, and where
punishments are listed for panderers,
procurers, landlords and managers of
brothels, persons providing transportation
for prostitutes, husbands who knowingly

sti

“So it was a little stomach upset, eh?”

allow their wives to practice prostitution
and virtually anyone else who might de-
rive income from a prostitute. However,
the prostitute is penalized by another sec-
tion of the law. Under "Vagrancy;" it is
specified that “состу idle or dissolute
person . .
“every lewd and dissolute female person
known as a
prostitute” who behaves in an “immodest
* in a public place (that is, solicits
business) “is a vagrant.” The penalty is
5200 and jov three months in prison.

The second source for the myth was an
altempt in 1919 by the state legislature
to enact a local oplion law, placing the
control of prostitution in the hands of
county authorities. The bill was indeed
passed, but the governor vetoed it, and
it never became law.

The third source for the myth also
dates back to 1949, when the Nevada
Supreme Court ruled that city and county
authorities “may abate” (Le., demolish)
brothels, There was apparently some con-
fusion at the time as lo whether the
language of this decision gave local. au-
thorities the option to abate or not to
abate. The Nevada attorney general ез

. who engages in vice" and

streetwalker, or common

manner

plained to us that his office clarified the
issue in 1951, when it drafted an opinion
interpreting the decision 10 mean that
county commissioners must abate houses
of prostitution øn complaint of a single
citizen. In the two counties you mention,
complaints have been made and have
been taken to court, and ii is a maller
of appellate record that brothels are en
joined in Washoe and Clark, However,
cen though court injunctions may be
lacking in the other 15 counties, houses
of prostitution, according to the attorney
general, аке nonetheless not legal in any
of these counties. (Observe the paradox
in this complexity of statutes: The abate-
ment of brothels forces the girls onto the
strecis and the vagrancy law promptly
forces them off.)

Please note, finally, that we do not say
that prostitution isn't practiced. т Ne-
vada—merely that it ts not practiced
legally. This is, of course, truc in состу
state of the union.

THE MASHED-POTATO MENACE

Much has been written by psycholo-
gists and chemists about the harmless
elects of mashed potatoes; now listen to

185

PLAYBOY

with а wife and several children: one son
жаз а school dropout named Victor.
Victor ate mashed potatoes at least once
or twice every week,

One night, after indulging in mashed
potatoes at a local restaurant, Victor went
home, а hatchet and methodically
butchered his father, mother and three
sisters. He was found in a psychotic state
staring into space, unaware of the hor-
le crime he had committed under the
fluence of the
mashed potatoes.

Simi

took

Cases have occurred

involving
users of marijuana. Need I point out that
this also proves the danger of that sup-

harmless" herb?
(Name withheld by request)
Chicago, Illinois

posedly *

МАҢ!) ШАМА MYTHS

jon in this coun-
tiated despite medical evidence
of the harmlessness of this herb. The
Report of the Indian Hemp Drug Com-
mission (1894) and the November 1933
issue of the Military Surgeon, journal of
ation of Military Surgeon
єз, both concluded that
not phy:
ly deleteriou

or mora

reau of ^ огей these facts and.
circulated unscientific propaganda such
as the follow "The Narcotics

recognized the great danger of mari
juana due to its definite impairment of
the mentality and the face that its Con-
tinuous use leads direct to the insane
lum." Terrified by such myths, Congress
enaaed the antimarijuana law of 1937.

AIl arguments presented by the Fed-
eral Bu ing the
assertion that mariju step toward
arcotics such as heroin, mor
phine and other opium derivatives) have
been refuted on innumerable occasions

in medical jour White

of Narcotics (includ

is

addictive

Is. by the

House Conference on Narcotics and
Drug Abuse (19 nd by New York
Citys Mayor's Committee on Marijuana.

The findings of а
summarized ў
Basis of Therapeutics by Goodman апа
Gillma

There

re no lasting Ш effects
from the acute use of marijum
and fatalities have not been known
to occur. . . . Careful and complete
edical and. neuropsychiatric exami
nations of habitués reveal по
pathological conditions or disorders
of cerebral functions attributable to
the drug. . . . Although habitu:
tion occurs, psychic dependence is
not as prominent or compelling as
in the case of morphine, alcohol or
perhaps even tobacco habituation.

Antidrug laws remain in ellec
laws—yet active

as do
вех

prosecution is rare except with regard to
homosexuality, where underhanded po-
lice tactics lead to many arrests. The
ne type of tactics netted law-enforce-
ment agencies almost 22,000 mariju:
arrests between 1963 and 1965 in С;
fornia alone. Not only will 22,000 people
find difficulty in obtaining new jobs but.
the state wasted incredible amounts of
<payers’ money for undercover agents
to skulk about college communities and
seek out people indulging in something
less harmful physically than alcohol or
tobacco.

Н. George Pace, Ш
University of California
Santa Barbara, California

CAPITAL PUNISHMENT

1 recently took part in an informal de-

bate on capital punishment. The oppo

tion presented the following arguments
n favor of the death penalty

It costs taxpayers too much to support

i 1 institution for life.

in a pen
if the death penalty does not

deter the man who commits murder
fit of inational rage, it docs tend to dis-
courage the hired underworld killer who
has time to consider calmly the consc-
quences of his act

If the state were to abolish the death
penalty, public passions would be incited
whenever a particularly loathsome crime
had been commitied and there would be
n increase іп lynching:

I answered these points as logically as
I could. but can't help wondering if
there are any sociological facts that would.
destroy these arguments?

Sharon Mangum
Long Beach, California

Plenty. Sociologist Thorsten Sellin has
demolished the economic argument by
pointing out that “it obviously rests
on the assumption that murderers in
prison cannot be self-supporting as а
soup. and that they must always remain
a financial burden on the public unless
they ave executed. However . . . in a
well-organized penal system, murderers
as а group can undoubtedly earn. their
keep." Criminologist, Hans W. Mattick
has calculated that, even “assuming no
cost-offsctling activity on the part of the
prisoner,” the cost of maintaining all
murderers as life-term prisoners would
be less than the cost of continuing our
present system of capital punishment, He
points ош:

Almost every phase of the capital
more complex, more time
consuming and more cosy. We
need only advert to such things as
the of а death-penalty
jury; the length of capital trials; the
costs of both prosecution. and. de-
Jense, both of which, more fr
quently than nol, are borne by the
state; the printing costs incident to
motions and multiple appeals; the

case da

selection

special detention and handling costs
of guarding and transporting capital
offenders; and the costs of rehears-
ing aud ultimately carrying out an
execution. The printing costs alone,
of briefs for both prosecution and
defense in the appeal process, fre-
quently run into tens of thousands
of dollars. Capital punishment is by
no means cheaper than life imprison-
ment, and the jurisdiction that
maintains it pays for it dearly in
both money and human costs.

The cost of the average noncapital
murder case including life-term impris-
onment, concludes Mattick, is around
$15,000, while the cost of the average
capital case is in excess of $60,000.

As for the second point made by your
opposition, statistics lend по credence
to the notion that the “hired under-
world killer” is deterred by the specter
of capital punishment. For instance, Illi-
nois has a. proportionately higher homi-
cide rate than nearby Michigan, a largely
similay state that has abolished capital
punishment; and a large part of Illinois"
record is made up of 1005 killings (since
1919) that ате officially attributed to
gangland professionals who were ob-
viously not intimidated by the death
penalty.

As for your opponent's last argument,
Mattick has collected lynching figures
going back to 1882 that show that states
with capital punishment have a vastly
her lynching vate than states without
it. In direct contradiction of your oppo-
nent's point, it appears that when the an-
thorities show regard for human life, the
citizens follow the example; when the
government shows contempt, the citizens
do likewise.

In short, there ave по vational grounds
on which to defend capital punishment.
Il is a practice created in a more super-
stitious and less humane age than the
present, and it is gradually fading away,
we are happy to report. Thirteen of our
states have abolished the death penalty,
and more than half of the countries he-
longing 10 the United Nations do not
have it. Your grandchildren will undoubt-
edly be astonished when you tell them
that California had a state executioner
within your lifetime.

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187

PLAYBOY

youth-the oppressed majority continued from page 138)

all four were "tem-
porarily excluded.” Said the young man:
"I got my hair cut, but now they're
regulating ideas and 1 can’t get my ideas
cut. Im keeping them.”

In many other schools antiwar dem-
onstrators have been stripped of their
arm bands; and at а high school in Great
Neck, New York, when the student gov-
ernment voted to forgo one lunch in
sympathy with the famine-threatened
people of India, its plan was vetoed by
the adn

In classes

of "Military Day,

throughout the country,
teachers ritualistically underline the im-
portance of political commitment for cii
a democracy. But the young arc
ined for this role in situations devoid
of political activity. When a senior
large suburban high school in New Jersey
asked that the school's World Affairs
Club be permitted to cosponsor a lec-
ture with an outside political organiza-
Чоп, the director of student activities
peremptorily informed him that no stu
dent political advocacy of any kind was
permitted in the school.

The same sudent, Daniel Gladstone,
wrote a review of a history textbook for
the school newspapcr. In it, Gladstone
reported Saturday Review article,
High School Students Have No Voice,”
“I established criteria Гог textbooks and
showed how the book failed to meet
them, Because the sponsor of the news
paper was not in school the day the arti
cles were sent to the printer, he did not
see the review until it was published.
Then he, the vice-principal and the
chairman of the history department all
told me that Т had acted ‘out of line’ in
writing the revicw and that I had no
right to cr n action of a faculty
member or group.

No high school is more respected for
the academic achievements of its student
body than is the Bronx High School of
Science. Yet a few years ago, its students
were instructed that during а civ
defense drill simulating, tomic attack,
they must kneel and hold a book over
their heads. “An interesting medievalism
for a school of science," commented so-
cial critic Paul Goodman, father of one
of several young empiricists who dis-
obeyed the command, They were sus-
pended, of course, and the parents of the
disobedient youngsters were informed
t "behavior of this type can do im-
measurable harm to [the students] fu-
ture possibilities for recommendations
and college entrance.” Paul
ew York City Board
of Education with as much self-control
as he could muster tha attitude of
the organized system is not calculated
to make creative scientists." But it can
help produce scientists trained to func
tion in teams and easily able to involve

188 themselves in all manner of assignments

—biological warfare, for instance—on
orders from the organized system.

If the young are prohibited from
learning how to govern themselves and
from following their best instincts, in-
cluding common sense, in high school,
they do not receive appreciably
growing room in most colleges
they continue to be prepared for the
basic feeling of powerlessness of American
Jife—the powerlessness of the individual,
young or adult, to affect what Mayor
Lindsay terms the “huge. authoritarian
institutions that routinely cause fund
men dislocations in the lives of the
people they affect. each. E. Luria,
profesor of biology at Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, points out
that "a most distressing aspect of univer
sity life is the mock parliamentarianism.
of formal campus democracy. Students
engage in meaningless campa and
elections for student governments that
are concerned mainly with trivia such as
curfew hours. . . . The empty, formal
democracy of the campus is not only a
frustrating experience; it becomes also a
training ground for the acceptance of
patterns of pscudodemocratic govern-
ment, which political machines deter-
mine the choices presented to the voters,
and a willful executive cin frustrate the
spirit of the Constitution by turning a
legislative assembly into a rubber-stamp
body."

Here, again, there is pathos in the re-
pression of the young by adults. Those
who are without power in the "real
world"—without power in relation to the
corporations that employ them, to the
governments that make war and raise
taxes in their name, to the social forces
that make their ies unsafe and their
air polluted—resent assumptions by the
young that they can run their lives, that
they can somehow avoid fundamental
impotence. Father knows best, damn it.
There is no hope. Settle down and hold
onto a comfortable niche in the system.
The son who defies authority shows up
the weakness of father and must be
taught a lesson, the lesson being that
passivity is wisdom, that survival is all

The young, meanwhile, are prepared
for “real life" not only by their subject
status and by the meaningless regulations
keeping them in place in the education
zoo. Also, what they are taught, as well
as how they are taught, prepa
to fit smoothly into the system. One of
the most basic of all needs—especially
during adolescence—is to shape an iden-
tity, to find out what in the world is most
relevant to you. But the American educa-
system. operates all too often d
rectly counter to that goal. The schools
consider their function to be the adapta-
tion of their pupils to the requirements
of society as it is now and as they think
it must develop. And increasingly, this is

a society of specialization. Certain basic
skills must be instilled to lay a foun
tion for the specialized skills to come.
Recently, during the course of a series of
lectures he delivered on the BBC, John
Kenneth Galbraith asked: “Can we be
together happy about education that
is so motivated? There is the danger
that it will be excessively vocational. We
shall have e of men who are strong
on telemetry and space communications
but who cannot read anything but a
blueprint or write anything but a com-
puter program.

But the schools, with [ew exceptions,
have no time to worry about that ques-
tion. Nor do they allow their pupils time
to worry about who they are. Too much
information has to be funneled into them
so that they cin go on to the "better
colleges and then to the “better” special-
ized jobs. The independent youngster
with strong interests in particular areas
th not currently regarded as hav-
ing a high degree of social usefulness gets
in the way—particularly if he has ques-
tions for which answers are not to be
found in the textbooks or the teachers at
hand. He takes too much time and must
either be cut to fit or leave school. He
also gets in the way if his learning style
is not geared to speedy achievement on
predetermined tracks. One very bright
14-year-old in New York scored miser-
ably on a reading achievement. test.
Astonished, his mother asked him what
һай happened. "Well," he said, "the idea
to read and comprehend as fast as
you could. I didn't feel like reading fast.
I got interested in some of the para-
graphs and wanted to think about their
implications.” Later, the mother was told
by the boy's teacher, “He certainly has
capacity, but he is not a group person.
You must help us make him into a group.
person."

A Qi girl in New York who has
shuttled between private and public
schools to find. асе for herself ex-
claims in exaspet m: “They're all
geared to examination statistics. Like,
they have set curriculums. The records at
each stage of your ‘advancement’ through
school must show that you have taken
so many units in math, in science, in
languages. Without the right assort-
ment of credis. you're going to have
trouble getting into college. And so
we're not allowed to learn what we want
to learn. What 1 want, for example, is
just a basic background in science and a
great deal more time to write and to
study how different writers have han-
dled all sorts of problems. І can't do it.
"There's no room in the schools for indi-
vidual needs. And they give you so
much work to do at home, you lave no
time to explore what interests you out-
side of school. We're all locked in, locked
into the same set of building blocks from
elementary school oi
The concept of edu

wa

“T don’t know
who he is,

but he just
ordered JeB”’

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189

PLAYBOY

190

individual growth, as а way to retain and
build on the spontancity of real interests
and organic motivations, is alien to the
schools. Т chievers” learn that suc
ауй back to the
teachers what the teachers want 10 h
In this ame of
the free р i
tiative becomes dangerous. for
d grades. A youngster who

Шу questions the worth of what
g taught and the values of the
society for which he is being shaped be
comes а "problem." As John Holt says,
“Teachers and schools tend to mistake
good behavior for good character."
Recently, through the International
Teacher Development Program, over
600 teachers Irom а number of coun
Tries visited dassrooms throughout the
United States. Most were saddened by
what they saw. “You will find,” ob
served. a teacher from Chile, “that the
examination questions that determine
success or failure in American schools
are chiefly those for which answers c
be memorized. Hence, they test training,
not thinking. The trained person de
pends upon others for his instruction.
‘The great goal of the school should be to

produce the independent learner." And
an appalled teacher from Japan ob-
served: "Students raised their hands and

sked questions industriously. But some
how they seemed to be driven from les
son to lesson, having only minutes
between periods. Why this hurriedness?

А Vi-ycarold girl in Boston echoes the
question: “Just why is everything being
made to go faster and faster? You have
to have the new math bit by the time

you're five, That's funny. And this great
shift to stufhng people with education
ly, so that by the time you get to
college vou see this world as a big, vast
textbook!

The pressures begin in grade school.
\ teacher in the Abington Township
School in Pennsylvania, where the parent
body consists mainly of the striving upper
tells of ar-old
um) on an

her. held
bling. and

mean T won't get into

middle class.

who received an M (lor m
assignment. The boy c
out his paper, his
asked. “Does th
medical schoo!
The teacher spoke to the boy's par-

ne t

nds tre

ems, "You have a charming, br
child. Don't push him." The pare
however, are convinced that educa
nothing if it does not push. "Our two
older children,” the mother said, "are
high achievers, and we're moving into а
better neighborhood with a better school.

Therefore, he must be prepared. Besides,
we do have to think about college.’

An extreme example? Perhaps. But
there is no denying the intensity of the
pressures that have been spiraling in the
country's classrooms. Get with it or you'll
be sidetracked. And so the youl
continually tested, grouped. evaluate
not according to their individual bents
and strengths bur through ма
measurements. Look. say the
guidance counselors: In 1965 alone, more
than 100,000 qualified students couldn't
find any ope
arcane colleges. "You have to be better
and better and better! Remember, say
the parents and guidance counselors,
the dillerence between being 18th or 88th

the

“Sissy!”

in your class can affect your whole life!

But what if you have different criteria
for a successful life from the kind to
which all that accumulation of credits will
lead? An American mother writes to
А. S. Neill, headmaster of the Summerhill
School in England, her П-усат-
old daughter won't do her homework
d is failing in school. "Shall I push her
idy,” the woman asks, “or shall I let
"Woman, you cannot push
Neill begins in his new book, Free-
She already knows
and

that

to
her
her,"
dom—Not License!
ihe
choice. Your child is
healthy critici
i

has
live and shows a
m of the system by refus-
to take part in it. How can you as
individual remedy a situation im wh
your daughter is the victim of а bar
ous system? What good did homework
ever do anyone? Home study—forced on
a childs dead study. Such forced
study wrenches the child away from her
play hours. Homework is resented be
cause it has no true place in your dup
тегә sense of living. Tt occum to m
Maybe your daughter much of
scholar, Maybe her natural interests do
not gravitate toward study. Must you
force your values and ambitions on her?
r for her to be a happy human
without a college degree than
neurotic girl fighting her
and armed with a college

consequences

is not

being
n unhapp:
inner drive
diploma."
The advice is far
prevalent values f

too subversive of
1 but a few parents
to accept. And, more tragically, most ol
the young have already been so dead
ened by the educational system that they
see failure as the only alternative 10
“making it” in me established middle
dass way. A high school senior in Lex-
ington, Massachusetts, is м with fear
the night before she is to uke the crucial
college boards: “Everything is on the
line tomorrow. You determine your next
four years. And perhaps. your whole fu-
ture, And all this is determined in a lot
of impersonal questions, This supposedly
s the sum total of 12
a person, of being involved
with teachers and with other
You're judged by one test.” In 1
17-vear-old tells а reporter surveying the
young for Newsweek: “I flunked the
tollege-entrance exams and I don’t have
any money, so I've had it.”

As if one can earn only in school,
if there ninglul expe
for the you i school. As
vocations but those requiring academic

have by fiat be
lue. As if one could not go back to a
school whe: wanted аө. Having
been trained not to think but to respond
in predetermined ways, too many of the
young are unable to recognize alterna
s to breaking out of the lock step that
American education, And so, youth,
which should be a time of wide-ranging
curiosity. joy in discovery and a reaching

are no m

except

made of lesser

one

ош to experience, becomes a time of
fear. “Even in the kindest and gentlest of
John Holt writes, “children are
any of them a great deal of the
time, some of them almost all the time
х8 of failing, afraid of being
kept back, afraid of being called stupid,
afraid of feeling themselves stupid.
you think Holt exaggerates, consider
how many adults return in their night-
mares to fantasies of failure in school.
And with fear comes cheating as an
additional preparation for the "real
world.” A Columbia University study of
99 colleges found that half the students

in the sample had cheated. Estimates of
high school cheating тип considerably
higher. Why? “Cheating increases,”

notes Gladys Gardner Je of the
University of Iowa, "in proportion to the
emphasis put upon a goal beyond the
reach of many children who compete nof
because of a personal desire and moti
tion but because of a situation from
which there is no escape.”

That feeling of there being no escape,
the height of the walls around the ghetto
of American youth, was made painfully
vivid in a lener in November 1904 to
The New York Times Magazine by a
bright student in a New York high
school with an extraordinary record of
“success” in placing high percentages of
its graduates in prestigious colleges. A
cry of despair, it reveals how mercilessly
— though impersonally—youth can be
crushed, With classes from 8:15 to 3
d study hall or activities until 5:80,
this girl worked on homework alter din-
ner every night until midnight or 12:30.
She had, of course, been told ihat the
purpose of this regimen is “preparation.”
And she mourns:

I'm wasting these years of prep-
aration. Tm not learning what T
. I don't care

want to le;
about the feudal
know about life
and read. When? .

My life is a whirlpool. I'm
caught up in it, but I'm not con-
scious of it. I'm what you call 1
ing, but somehow I can't find life.
Days go by in an instant. I. feel
nothing accomplished in that in-
stant. So maybe I got an А on that
composition I worked on for three
hours, but when I get it back I find
it means nothing. It’s а letter you
usc to keep me going.

Every day I come in well pre-
pared, Yet 1 dread every class; my
stomach tightens and I sit tense. I
drink coffee morning, noon and
night. At night, after my home
work, 1 lie in bed and wonder if
Гуе really done it all. Is there some-
thing I've forgotten?

- .. I wonder what I'm doing
here. I feel phony. . .. You wonder
about juvenile delinquents. If L ever

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191

PLAYBOY

192 general. It estimated thar dui

become one, PH tell you why it
will be. I feel cramped. I feel like
I'm locked in a cofin and с
move or breathe. "There's no air or
light. АН I sec is blackness and I've

got to burst Sometimes | feel
maybe something will come along.
Something has to or I'm not worth

anything. My life is worth. nothing,
I's enclosed in а few buildings. . . -
It goes по further. I've got to bust.

And in th

ir coffins, they аге t
ported to college. There the testing
the evaluat even more опе
cessant, for there aren't cnough places
| the “better” graduate schools and
lows Unit а mere В.А. or
careers.
ment
ations but

everyone now
B.S. is not enou
ast year, the Yale gradi
of English had
places for only ts. In economics,
there were more than ten applicants for
every opening. In the course of a year,
as many as 30 people with Woodrow
Wilson fellowships are turned down. The
same compression exists in practically all
of the more renowned graduate schools.

The undergraduate, therefore, pres-
ing to be as close as he can to the top of
his class, still has по time for what inter-
ests him. As Nevitt Sanford and Dr.
Josph Katz of Stanford's Institute for
the Study of Human Problems point out:
The indications are that. increased work
demands, competitiveness and a resultant
pervasive guilt when one is not occupied
with studying have also considerably
diminished the opportunities for form
friendships with other students, a
the kind of deep and meaningful fi
ips that require time and freedom
from psychological encumbrance in
order to grow.

Later, in the graduate schools, says
John Perry Miller, dean of Yale Univer-
sitys graduate school. "the pressure is
already worse than in the undergraduate
colleges

Accord
indeed, burst. Wrote

agly, some college students do,
coed in the Wis
Daily Cardinal: “My parents
hounded me about grades to the point
where I spent more time worrying than
studying. The idea of failure was the
worst thing in the world that could
pen. There was no ch
if vou failed the first time, that was
By the me, 1 was а nerv-
ous wreck, I went home before exams
for the weekend, Then it happened, the
worst it had ever been. Then came 75
sleeping pills, 125 aspirins and a razor
blade."

And for some the burst is final. In

consin

aimed at leading college studi
dosed in October 1966 that the national
suicide rate among students is 50 per-
cent higher than for Amer

ng the

year, 900000 students would threaten
suicide, 9000 would n attempt
and 1000 would succeed. That last figure

was called. conservative by Dr. Edward
Schneidman, codirector of the Los
Angeles Suicide Prevention Center.

But the vast majority of students do
move on—and out into the adult world.
The majority, having wased their
chance to find out who they are in ado-

lescence, are now sufficiently numbed to
function as docile members of the socie-
ty. Paul Goodman has described this

reatment" succinctly: “The

bright are not following
aspirations but are being pressured
nd bribed: the majority—those who are
not especially bright but have other
nds o vitality—are being subdued.
... Few look toward vocations that. will
peculiarly fulfill them. Few really be
lieve that they will have а say in their

jobs or in how their city is rum, any
more than they have had in how they
grow up.

There are those who resist the treat
ment. Not all high school dropouts.
for example, have necessarily made thc
wrong choice—lor themselves. Dr. Јо.
seph L. French of Pennsylvania State
University has studied a sample of the
78 percent of all school dropouts in
Pennsylvania with 1. Q.s of 110 or better.
The results, as reported in the Roosevelt
Torch of Roosevelt University in Chica
go. indicated that "compared with those
who remain in school, the intellect
dropouts were by nature less inhibited
and more happy-go-lucky. They were
also more independent, unconventiona
nd rebellious. Their homes had bee:
more permissive and less protected.” The
vocational interests of the dropouts,
French found. tended toward “mechani-
cal activities—machine operation and
design, or home repair of machinery and
electronic gadgets.” In view of those
interests, only 22 percent of the ma
dropouts "anticipated a professional
reer as opposed to a trade, while the
figure for [those who stayed in school]
stood at 60 percent.” Interestingly, how-
ever, 90 percent of the dropouts said
they were interested in eventually fur-
thering their education. They had re-
fused to be conned into believing that
moving out of the lock step meant that
education had to be at an end for them.
Therefore, those who do return to school
rc likely to go back when they want to
and to study what really interests them.

And the number of college dropouts is
increasing. The consensus of many of the
contributors to the new book The Col-
lege Dropout and the Utilization of Tal-
ent is that it is not at all essential and
often not advisable that a student spei
four consecutive years in college. To-
da student life, the book points out,
is characterized by “increased unrest and
subsequent mobility among academical-
ly sound undergraduate students. Some

усаг of study and jor
шо the Peace Corps and
still others to an entirely different type of
college to gain varied experience.” And
more and more of these college dropouts
report that this break in the pattern has
been of great value in allowing them to
discover themselves. Some also discover
that there is no personal need for them
to return to college. But to drop out posi
tively. not in self-judgment as a failure.
requires students who have not been en-
tirely subdued by the system, and they
not by any means in the majo
New recruits to the intensely private
life from those of the young
who were once involved in civil rights
tivity and in other hopes for changing
society, The rise of the Black Power ethos
in groups such as SNCC and CORE
makes a growing number of white for-
mer activists feel there is no longer any
place for them in the front lines of the
Movement. Others are convinced that, i
пу case, nothing can really be changed.
An 18-year-old from New York says: “If
I'm sitting here and know that what my
Government is doing may bring the
bombs down on me, what can | do
except get high or get in bed with some-
body? When the British were coming, 1
could have gotten out my gun and helped
fight. The UN? It's obsolete. It can't en-
force anything. Some of my friends say,

travel, others

“Protest!” Hell, those same guys have
marched on Washington for peace two
or three times. They were with thou-

sands of people. What did they accom
plish? Johnson just kept on escalating. So
my friends say I'm afraid to protest, that
I'm p That's not it at all. 1
don't do anything becuse anything I'd
do would be futile.

And so the incre: n the use of
consciousness-expanding drugs
the young continues. Dr. James
the U.S. Food and Drug Adm
Bureau of Drug Abuse Control estimates
that by now about one in every hundred
college students has used LSD at one
time or another. Marijuana is easily ob-
tained at most major universities. At the
University of California at Berkeley,
more than half the student body has
tried sharijuana at least once, and per-
haps a third has gone back for more,
Nor are high school and junior high
school students unfamiliar with halluci-
nogens. The incidence of their use
mong those that young is growing.
Parents and other adults e dis
turbed, appalled and grimly censorious
of the young who have gotten off the
world. They agi nd vore for restric-
tive laws and demand investigations of
the schools, ignoring their own role in
convincing these young to “turn on, tune
in and drop out.” Harvard. psychiatrist
Norman Zinberg says of the young
drugiakers: “They don’t trust life as it
is. They look for something more beaut
ful, more real.” More beautiful and reat

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PLAYBOY

194

“UNGLE CHARLIE!’

the lives of the adults they know.
the lives of those in their 40s,
y. whom New York reporter Jimmy
Breslin has called “the young old men.
- - . Every day, they are losing the
world of the young girls and they try to
hold onto it with their eyes and their
one-line jokes and every day they are
losing. Every day that they go home and
d fall asleep in front of the televi-
id then get up in the morning
go to work on jobs they don't like. Every
day that they spend going to a golf
course as if it were a church, and polish-
ing a car. and then going lo а house par-
ty and talking about the same things
that they talked of last week. . . . And
the women, their bodies coming apart
from having too many children, talking
with the first old-lady stories of opera-

ns coming into the conversation.”
These are the fading adults who illus-
tate Eric Hollers threnody: "In this
country we are warned not to waste
our time, but we are brought up to waste
our lives.” And these are the adults who
Jook at the young with envy and barely
suppressed sighs of self-pity at the waste
of their own years. But they cannot fun-
damentally concede that waste and there
fore must condemn “deviant” behavior
and try to “straighten out" those of their
children who wo ie. prescribed
routes to death on the installment plan.
They send them to psychiatrists, they cut
off their allowances, but they cannot talk
to them—for what have they to say?

It is the increasingly free-and-easy
sexuality among some of the young that
especially torments adults. For American
adults have been brought up on the Puri-
tan ethic. Pleasure is suspect. Pleasure
has to be earned. Pleasure has to be post
poned. And so pleasure—in its most
intense, releasing forms—is often post-
poned until death. Imagine the stab of

loss at breakfast tables and on commuter
trains rhe morning last December on
which the wire services carried—and

newspapers prominently displayed—the
view of a 19-year-old University of Min-
nesota coed that “Sexual intercourse is a
form of communication between two
people, which, because of available con-
ceptive pills, should be no more
ed than any other form of com-
munication, such as conversing, dancing
and holding hands." What is the world
ing to? But they'll learn, they'll
They'll get married and they'll
And probably many of the now
sexually liberated young will slide into
habit in sex as in all else. But it may be
that today's adolescents’ one permanent
legacy to their own young is the shatter-
ing of unnatural and anachronistic bar-
riers 10 sex, at least before marriage. For
the premium on virginity is becoming
obsolete; and on many campuses, living
together is simply part of the scene.

There is persistent ferment among a

rity of the young to change the
ways in which they are being educated
—from within the system and by setting
up parallel institutions out of the sys-
tems control. With regard to the latter,
students, sometimes with faculty help
have set up their own “free universities"
and "experimental colleges" on at least a
dozen campuses from Cornell to San
Francisco State College. There the stu-
dents themselves decide the courses to
be given, which are then taught by stu
dent specialists or by professors drawn to
the heady prospect of a totally voluntary
learning situation. A year ago, the Stu-
dent Congress of Boston University
inaugurated a series of nongraded courses
—the заг Program—
to counter the impersonal atmosphere
of the larger lecture classes at Boston
University." There are seminars in "Eros
and Civilization,” "Jazz." "War on Pov-
erty: War or Sellout,” “The New Moral-
ity: Sexual Freedom” and “Black Powe!
The faculty members who participate
in these parallel schools are those rare
adults who understand that education
should not be a passive process, that
people should not be educated but ought
to educate themselves, with the teacher as
a catalyst. John Clayton, for example, an
istant professor of humanities at Bos-
vered lectures on
n the Experimental Seminar
in the Boston University
те not abstractions but
experiences; they must be carried alive
into the heart; they should be richly
loaded with values; they should lead
to action—either social or personal. I re-
member a couple of years ago teaching
Thorcaus Walden. I quoted the
criticizing university education, lau;
at the irony that even this idea students
had to write in their notebooks. I said, if
you believe what Thoreau says, what are
you doing here? So one student— John
Kaplan—got up and walked ош! Joy!
Like the BaakShem-Tow, he was in the
truth, not just in possession of the truth,
teacher job." Clayton
“is to draw the student into
ng communication and thought. The
job is to shatter the existing knowledge
structures in the student so he can form
new structures that will let new data
in. The job is to open him up. It’s to let
him relate new ideas to his old v
The job is to blow his mind. Freshmen
need to study alienation in America or to
study problems of identity in Boston. If
sociological tools are needed, if economic
concepts are needed, introduce them.
But don't make a student go through
years of digested, analytical, disciplinary
structure before he finds out why. We
need courses that involve the student's
life at home, in the dormitory, at work.
We live in Boston.”
It may be that the existence of such

experiments as Boston University's ex-

main

lues.

perimental courses may draw more such
Clayton into teaching. And some
‘of the professors of the future may come
from the young in this academic under.
ground. Already, pressures from the
young have begun to clasticize, to a
small extent. the courses and the way
they're conduaed in some schools. Mod-
erator reports as ns “А psy
chology course at the University ol
Michigan gives coune credit for one
third of the time students spend working
in а community tutorial program, mental
hospital or socialservice project
Next year at Western Michigan Univer
sity, students will be able to receive aca-
demic credit for work overseas in the
асе Corps."

And while there аге still only а very
few colleges—Sarah Lawrence, God-
dard, Bennington—that have liberated
their students and teachers from. grades,
a growing number of colleges and uni-
versities are permitting students to take
courses in which the only grade they will
be given is “pass” or "fail." Thereby, time
and spirit will not be wasted on regurgi-
tation under the name of examinations
and on worry as to whether taking a
course outside your field may lower your
averages. Deep down in the system, at
the beginning of the compression process

—ihe elementary school—there are be-
оГ nongraded classes and оѓ
the child

ginni!
discovering what
know. But from
college, these are only beginni
system is too deeply rooted in its rigidity
and in the undeviating length of its
tracks to be radically changed soo
But at the colleges and universities.
some of the young still wy to have a
voice in how they are educated. Student
pressure at Stanford caused the resigna-
tion of an unpopular dean of women and
the inclusion of students on faculty com-
mittees concerned with curriculum and
admissions. At City College in New
York, sit-ins and other tactics are being
used to force the administration to give
students а share in policy making. Ac the
Un of Michigan, students have
won national support, including that of
the American Civil Liberties Union, in
their persistent campaign to get the u
versity to stop cooper
and Congressional investi,
legedly organizations. In
the process, the students—as had hap-
pened at the University of California
during the height of the Free Speech
Movement—awakened some of the fac
шу. They were soon joined in their pro-
test by 700 faculty members. Also at that
university, a student referendum last
November disclosed overwhelming op-
position to the administration's com-
piling of class standards to be used by
the Selective Service System in deciding
draft deferments. The National Student

wants to

“subversive

195

PLAYBOY

196

Association has called for similar refer-
endums at its 331 member schools; and
at its annual meeting last August, the
NSA also proposed abolishing the peace-
time draft. Asserting that “no government
should be allowed the power to compel
its citizens to kill," the delegates asked
that even in wartime, those drafted
should be given choices of alternative.
service in hospitals, conservation or other
nonviolent activi "That same meeting
called for the repeal of laws banning the
sale of marijuana.

А remarkable example of the ques-
tioning of “official” adult values that can
be set in turbulent motion by a candid,
committed and unafraid group of stu-
dents is the rebellion at Boston Univer-
sity led by Ray Mungo, his staff and
such colleagues as Julian Houston, presi-
dent of the Student Congress. A relentless
campaign by the Boston University
News to abolish the R. O. T. C. on cam-
pus, for instance, has helped spur similar
movements at Ohio Wesleyan, Cornell,
Duke, Harvard and other schools. Its
raising of the issue also provoked a con-
troversy as to whether the R. O. T. C.
has the right to continue to receive aca-
demic standing and official curricular
ion. The News has also called

for noncooperation with the draft, for
the end of grades and for sexual freedom.

("Because the matter is entirely personal,
we believe the student should be free to
practice his own approach to sexual dis-
covery and wonder without the prurient
shadow that the administration throws
over him, in the form of unyielding pari
etal rules, But, far more important, we

believe the university has rejected its
responsibility to provide information
and advice regarding birth control to
students who often do themselves tragic
harm for lack of sound, available con-
sultation.")
Mungo and his associates have created
a ferment of ideas and selfquestioning
what used to be a placid, conformist
school with a largely moribund faculty.
Mungo has, of course, been attacked by
the adult community—in Boston’s news-
papers, from pulpits in the city's largest
churches, by former United States Sena-
tor Leverett Saltonstall and by the uni-
versity's Board of Trustees. But he
thrives on attempt to make BU a
place where "real persons” can learn and
teach, because he is experiencing that
rare joy of, as the Quakers say, speaking
truth to power. And he is trying to
spread that joy by advocating a national
union for students—"a union providing
an autonomous power group on and off
campus, capable of collective power and,
ideally, force.” The concept of a union,
he continues, “is particularly applicable
because students are at last demanding
their rights here and elsewhere; because
they have learned that Federal aid to
education is meager compared with war
budgets; because they pay immense
sums for their education, and thus they
remain physically tied to parents (when
they deserve, as most European nations
have long ago recognized, to be edu-
cated at national expense): and because
their training in submission to university
authorities is specifically intended to pre-
pare them for lives of submission—to
employers, to governments. to fear.”

“We hope you won't forget us, Mr. Pettebone, after
youve danced your way to a new ‚Ше of
popularity and social success.’

There are other signs, it is claimed,
that the values of the young may be
changing. Michael Harrington writes: “In
1961, The Wall Street Journal report-
ed that 14 percent of Harvard's senior
dass entered business, contrasted
with 39 percent in 1960. In 1966, the
arris Poll surveyed college seniors for
Newsweek and found that this trend was
deepening. Only 12 percent of the sam-
ple were looking forward to business ca-
Teers." Where do they go? Into research,
the professions, academic life. Education,
for instance, is now a 60-billion-dollar
business in the United States. Is there
sufficient reason. however, to beli
that a rejection of business as а voca
also involves a rejection of present socie-
tal values? Will those in research refuse
to work on projects of destruction? Will
those in the professions be any less ad-
dicted to self-interest, any more critical
of political and economic power blocs,
than their elders are?

And will those who go into education
be significantly different from the pres-
ent educational establishment? Will their
effect on the young to come be
nificantly different from that descril bed
by Carl Davidson, vice-president of Stu-
dents for a Democratic Society? “We
have named the system in this country,"
he wrote in SDS' New Left Notes, "cor-
porate liberalism. d if we bother to
look. its penetration into the campus
community is awesome. Its elite is
trained in our colleges of business ad-
ministrauon. Its defenders are trained in
our law schools. Its apologists can be
found in the politicalsdence depart-
ments. The colleges of social sciences
produce its manipulators. For propai
dists, it relies on the schools of journal-
ism. It insures its own future growth in
the colleges of education. If some of us
ite fit in, we arc brainwashed in
sions of counseling."

There are as yet insufficient grounds
for opti in the fact that more and
more graduates are turning away from
business as a career. The system, as
David is extremely eff-
cient g its defenders in
other vocations as well. Similarly, the
optimism of some interpreters of demo-
graphic charts is questionable. They note
that currently half the population of the
United States is under 25, and the pi
portion below 25 is steadily rising. By
1968, the average age of the American
voter will be 27. Historian Arthur Schle-
singer, Jr., predicts that by the end of
the Sixties, alongside the fact that those
20s will constitute the biggest
ng bloc in America, there will be
7,000,000 students college. We will
be a county of the young; and with-
in that young, there will be a special-
interest group, says Schlesinger, wi
‘will formulate its demands and fight for
them.” But if most of those young, in
and out of college, are already youngold

men, how far-reaching will their de-
mands be? Placing American youth in a
ghetto has, in the majority of cases,
worked as intended. When they are
ready to be released into the world, the
values of the majority of them will be of
the world as it is now.

And yet the dissenters persist. Some,
such as Ray Mungo, persist in working
and organizing for change. Others travel
into their own minds. Both the outcr-
directed and the inner-directed dissenters
believe they can hold out. Such as а 17-
ar-old girl Irom Boston who insists: “I
could never join the mainstream of
society now. If you've been made aware,
then you can't suddenly bury yourself. So
society is just going to have to accept us.
Either that or this darned socicty is just
to collapse You can't have a
ull of unaware people.”
nores the much more likely
1 choice—that society
collapse nor become en mi
much more “aware.” Howevei
efficiently dehumanizing a society as
ours will be unable to force all in the
of today’s young to adjust

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most adults call reality. If the |_7
best of the young do not prevail—and | 46/222.
the odds are heavily against them. ш.
many will remain a conspicuous com- | зог лу

munity of refu
it li

1 to accept shallow or
What will society do
with them? It пу to ignore them
while they, in keep trying to dis-
cover and fulfill their potentiality
enclaves in the larger cities and in m
versity towns.

A New Yorker in his early 20s who
dropped ош of college to work with
CORE and then to engage in community
organizing in Syracuse is now at the
London School of Economics. On his
Christmas card last year, he wrote a line
from Henry Miller: “I believe because
not to believe is to become as lead, to be
prone and rigid, forever inert, and to
waste away.” He intends to come back
further action for social
probably be able to save
himself from becoming as lead, as will
Ray Mun, hey have avoided b
pressed flat in the ghetto of American
youth. But not many do. Not yet
enough, anyway, to do much more than
keep themselves alive and growing. This
is а country of waste—from natural ге-
sources to armaments, But especially it is
At wastes its young.

wastage is to be significantly
reduced, it can be done only by the
young themselves. Accordingly, today's
young are sharply divided, as ney
fore, between those who have alr
been processed and those who arc resi
ing their ghetto status and corollary
powerlessness. The latter recognize that
a fight for their lives—figura
y and, in view of the lessons of
Vietnam, quite often literally.

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FLORIDA
BRADENTON
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COCOA BEACH
Sen Urenin
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Kennedy's
DADE CITY
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DAYTONA ВЕАСН
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DELANO
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DUNEDIN,
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Eustis
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Kennedy's
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KEY WEST

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Kennedy's

MIAMI

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MIAMI BEACH
Kennedy's

PANAMA CITY
Schneider's
PENSACOLA

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Quincy
Pleteher-Cantey Men's Wear
SARASOTA

The Squire Shop

ST. PETERSBURG
Arnold's Men's Wear
Kennedy's
TALLAHASSEE
Kennedy's

TANPA

Falk's of Tumpa
WEST HOLLYWOOD
Kennedy's

WEST PALM BEACH
Kennedy’s

WINTER PARK
Kennedy's

GEORGIA
ALBANY
Best Clothing Со.
ATHENS
Howard Sanders Men's Shop
ATLANTA
Rebley Hats Kicks & Lids
AUGUSTA
Cullum $
Leblanc’ Inc.
CORDELLE
Roobir's Ltd.
MACON
‘The Oxford Shop
ROME
Ovens-King Co.
SAVANNAH
Parks University Shep, Inc.
85° & о. Men's Shop
STATESBORO
Donnidson-Ramsey Store tor Men
‘The Oxford Shop University Plaza
TIFTON
‘Tifton Clothes Shop
VALDOSTA
Belk Hudson Co,
Irvin's The Man's Shop.

MAINE
BANGOR
Alun Lewis Co.
Sleeper'n
CARIBOU
Lupo's
PORTLAND
Palmer-Kennedy’s
ROCKLAND
Gregory's
WATERVILLE

Stems

MARYLAND
ANNAPOLIS
Peerless Clothing Co.
BALTINORE
Frank Leonard University Shops
“a Ltd.

Sample Store.
Norman Wetzler Inc.

‘Youngs Men's & Boys’ Stores
GLENBURNIE
Raymond's Ine.
HAGERSTOWN
Hoffman's Inc,
HYATTSVILLE

Fred's Men's Shap
LAUREL

Stewart Men's Wear
LEXINGTON PARK
Park Men's Wear
DAKLAND

Marvin's Men's Wear
POCOMOKE CITY

Corkman Fisher Co.

MASSACHUSETTS:
AMHERST
‘Thompson's Men's Shop
BEVERLY
Alcon's
BOSTON
Kennedy's
BRAINTREE
Kennedy’s
BROCKTON
Kennedy’s
Linehen—Besse Baker's
CAMBRIDGE
Kennedy’s
FALL RIVER
Sawyer's Campus Shops
FRAMINGHAM
Kennedy's
GREENFIELD
Bartlett's,

Puritan Clothing Co.
LOWELL

Martin Clothes

ALG. Pollard Co,

LYNN

Kennedy's

The Pant Shop

MEDFORD

Frank's

NEW BEDFORD

New Bedford Dry Gcods Co.
Star Store Men's Shop
NEWTONVILLE

Mandell's Ine
NORTHAMPTON

Harry Daniel's, Inc.
PEABODY

Kennedy's

QUINCY

Sawyer's Campus Shops

‘SPRINGFIELD
Blake's.

Kennedy's
STOUGHTON
Crevola's
WALTHAM

George E. Olsan Ine.
WHITMAN,

Joubert's Inc.
WINCHENDON
Cobleigh Clothing Co.
WORCESTER

Bob's Haberdashery
Kennedy's

NEW HAMPSHIRE
DOVAR
Stuart Shalnes', Ine.
EXETER
Спее Ine.
Stone's Men's Shop
FRANKLIN.
Reliable Clothing, Inc.

HANOVER
‘Dartmouth Co-op
KEENE

Rolssell's of Keene, Inc.
LACONIA

Reliable Clothing, Inc.
MANCHESTER
Kennezy's

Lynch's

NASHUA

Lynch's

ROCHESTER

Femenan's

TILTON

Achber's Dept. Store

NEW JERSEY
ASBURY PARK
‘Bob and Irving
Catalano.
ATLANTIC CITY
Jules Men's Shop
BAYONNE
Metropolitan Clothes
State Shops
BUTLER
Louis Levine & Sons
CARTERET
Hammer's Men's Store
DENVILLE
Gribben's Gentry Den
EAST BRUNSWICK
‘Millers on the Mall
EAST ORANGE
Mink’s of East Orange
Wuensch East Orange
EATONTOWN
Éraddock’s Apparel
FREEHOLD
Miller's Stag Shep
GLASSBORO
Levy's Lampost
LINDEN
Palmer's Men's Shop.
МАТАМАН
Miller's Stag Shop
MENLO PARK
Archie Jacobson
NEW BRUNSWICK
NORTH BRUNSWICK
Tracy ше,
PASSAIC
маз Goldstein & Sons
PATERSON

Kosen's Pants Store

PENNSVILLE

‘Sendrow's Men's Apparel

PLAINFIELD

Varsity Shop

POINT PLEASANT

‘Captains Quarters nt Winogrnd'a.

POMPTON LAKES

Feinbloom's

Singer's Gentry Shop

PRINCETON

Princeton Clothing Company

RUTHERFORD

Berlin's

TOMS RIVER

Foldman's Suburbia Fashions

TRENTON

Eten Chop

UNION CITY

Раш Servo

WEST MILFORD

Marion Shoppe

WEST NEW YORK

Schlesinger's

NEW YORK
ALBANY
Kennedy's
AMSTERDAM
Mortan's Varsity Shop
ANGOLA

‘Matteson’s
AUBURN
‘Marshall's Clothing Store

BAY SHORE
RS.V.P. Men's Shop
BINGHAMTON

Bates Troy

BROOKLYN

Columbia Men's Wear
BUFFALO

The Kleinhans co.
‘Morey's Ltd.

Riverside Men's Shop
Jonathan Scott Simon's Lid.
Style Crest Men's Shops
DEWITT

‘The Mr. Shop

ELMIRA,

Jerome's

ENDICOTT

Alexander Harvey Clothing
FAR ROCKAWAY
O'Henry's

FLUSHING

State Pants Stores
FREEPORT

Hunter's Clothes
GÜWANDA

Nagle's Apparel Ltd.
HIGHLAND FALLS
‘Shorter's Men's Shop.
HORNELL
Murray Steve
HUNTINGTON STATION
Rick's Roost

ITHACA

Morris’ Men's Wenr

JAMAICA

B & B Lorry s

David's ot demsien

KENMORE

Roger Lewis Shops
LEWISTON

The Country Saulre Clo. Co. Тас.
LYNBROOK

Weber Stores

MEDINA

Kennedy Bros., Inc
MIDDLETOWN

DeFeo Brothers

MONTICELLO

Hammond & Cooke

MOUNT VERNON

Gramatan Men's Shop
NEWBURCH

E. W. Jansen Inc.

NEW ROCHELLE

Paull Scott Ltd

NEW YORK CITY

Phirs Style Center

Rich Originals

NORTH TONAWANDA

J T Men's Shop

‘OLEAN

Caenahan's Men's Store

‘The Printz Company

Shapiro's
PORT CHESTER

Slax N Јах

PORT JEFFERSON
Woodtieles

PORT JERVIS
Boland’s Men's wear
POUGHKEEPSI
M. Shwartz & Со,
RIVERHEAD, LONG ISLAND

Mr. Marty's Hole in the Wall
ROCHESTER

Len David Ltd.

Harry Forman Clothing Со
‘SCHENECTADY

Lafayette

STATEN ISLAND

Archie Jacobson.

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Dey Brothers

Münns's on Syrcuse Campus Inc.
WANTAGH

Greene's Men's & Boys’ Wear

WOLCOTT
‘The Family Shop
YONKERS

Wallace—Corning

NORTH CAROLINA
ASHEBORO
Moores Department Store
ASHEVILLE
Beik's “Store for Men"
BELMONT
he Closet, Ltd.
BURLINGTON
Currin and Hay, Ine.
DURHAM
van Straaten's
ELIZABETH CITY
Cader Harris & Son
FAYETTEVILLE
Rosenfeld's The Quality Shop
HAVELOCK
The Men shop
JACKSONVILLE:
Esquire Men's Shop
LAURINBURG
McNair's
RALEIGH
Hudson Belk Company
ROCKINGHAM
Lent's ol Rockingham, Ine.
ROCKY MOUNT
Bpstein’s, Inc.
SOUTHERN PINES
Sir Ruchora’s, Zita,
‘STATESVILLE
Young Men's Shop. Inc.
WELDON
L. Kittner's Dept. Store, Inc.
WEST JEFFERSON
Hubbard's of West Jefferson
WILSON
Belk Tyler's
WINSTON-SALEM
Anchor Co.. Inc.
Miller's Variety Store

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ALLENTOWN
Kuhns & Shankweller
ALTOONA
Lester's
‘ARDMORE
Suritier's Oxford Shop.
BEAVER FALLS
Zeiden's Ine.
BLOOMSBURG
Burt Pursel Clothier
BRYN MAWR
‘The Maniy Store
CARLISLE
Skronenberg Sons Inc
CLARION
Wein's
COATESVILLE

‘The University Shop. Clinton Е.
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Heinemnn's Men's & Boys’ Wear

DREXEL KILL

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ELLWOOD CITY

Keller's Dept. Store

ERIE

L. Press & Co.

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Conway and Wasser

Dave's Ток Shop

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Tione and Welkert

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Doutrichs

Macks Style Corner

HELLERTOWN

Stehley’s Men's and Boy.

HUNTINGDON

Pesers Young Men's Shop

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INDIANA

Waxler's Men's Wear

JOHNSTOWN

London Mall

LATROBE

‘The Hub Men's Shop

LEBANON

Luwns Mens’ Store

LEWISTOWN

Bob Davis

Joe Katz Inc.

MEADVILLE

‘The Printz Co,

OIL CITY

Ruy L. Way Menwsenr

PHILADELPHIA,

Braltis—Mayfeir

Kovnat Men's Shen.

PHOENIXVILLE.

Alan's Men's N’ Boye’ Town

Phillips Men's Store

PITTSBURGH

Coventry Ltd.

Gentry

Joseph Horne Co.

‘The Mule Box

POTTSTOWN,

Alan's Men's № Boys’ Town

PROSPECT PARK

тоге

READING

Boscov's North & West

role Keck

Walter Jones

Paul's Men's Shop

SAYRE

Н. Rentschler Men's Clothter ёс
Furnisher

SELINSGROVE

3. Kleinbauer, Tne.

‘SHARON-HICKORY PLAZA

"he varsity Shop

SHIPPENSBURG

Galen Gates & Son

SMETHPORT

€. Russell Johnson Clothiers

SOMERSET

George's Men's Shop

STROUDSBURG

тей Getz Clothier

WASHINGTON

C. Н. Jones & Sor

WILKES BARRE

John В. Stet

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Carroll House

‘The Hub Young Men's Shop, Inc.

YORK

Newswanger's Inc.

RHODE ISLAND.
NORTH KINGSTON
Jay's Men's Shop
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Mark David Lid.
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PLAYBOY

200

THE COURTSHIP (continued тот page 145)

that Czar Alexander had deeded the
count’s possessions to a duke who was
one ої his generals.

The Jews shrugged their shoulders:
Such was the way of the gentile, where
might was right. Calman Jacoby, a Jew
of some standing who dealt in wheat and
traded with the manor, obtained fom
the village officials the name of the new
lord of the Jampolski manor. Paying a
clerk. 18 groschen. he dictated a letter to
the duke in St. Petersburg, stating that
whereas he. Calman Jacoby, was а trust-
worthy, God-fearing man and а warden
of his community, he ventured respect-
fully to beg his Excellency to grant him
а lease on the manor and all that went
with it. Calman concluded with the offer
of a generous annual rental.

There was no word from St. Peters-
burg for some time. Then one day the
duke arrived unannounced in Jampol
and, settling down at the manor, sent a
Cossack to bring Jacoby to him. The
Cossack, riding bareback on a small
home, wore a cylindrical cap. a single
caning, and carried a leather thong
insicad of a whip. He led the way at a
slow trot, while Calman walked behind.
The Sands inhabitants were dose to

panic. They feared that false accusations
had been leveled against the community
and expected retribution, disaster and
bloodshed. Calman's wile, Zelda, accom-
panied by the children, escorted Calman
part of the way, wailing as if he had
already died. It was rumored а gallows
had been erected in the manor cour
yard; Calman was to pay for g
tuaded with the rebels.

When Galman entered the manor hall
and saw the new master, he prostrated
himself to kiss his gleaming boots and
plead for mercy. The du
with curly hair and luxuriant side м
ers, and he was wearing civilian dothes.
He ordered Calman to his feet. Calman,
who could speak some Russian, an-
swered the duke's innumerable questions
and the next day returned home with the
lease to the manor. Soon afterward, the
duke departed, leaving Calman Jacoby
in charge of the Jampolski estate.

Calman Jacobys first move was a judi-
dous one. He informed the Gountess
Maria that she was free to remain at the
manor for the sest of her lile. Further-
more, he would provide her with horses
for her coach and milch cows for ha
household. He also promised to keep her

“It's easy. First we have to determine if he's a
soldier or a guerrilla or a civilian. Then we have to
determine if he's on their side or our side. Then,
just to play it safe, if he's on our side, we have to
determine how he feels about Americans."

supplied with wheat, barley, potatoes,
groats and other staples. Calman then
came to terms with the bailiff and stew-
ards, though they were known to be
drunkards and thieves. Nevertheless, the
троі peasants resented this Jew, an
infidel, who lorded it over Polish soil in
the name of an alien oppresor. But at
least he did not put on а Poland had
fought and lost once again. Her finest
sons were now being driven into the dis
mal icy tundras, where the survivors of
the 1831 revolt still languished. What
did it matter who ruled in the mı
time?

During the years that followed, de-

the neighbor: ire advice to
the contrary, Countess Maria Jampolska
continued to petition Султ Alexander 10
pardon her husband. Her plea was th
the count had been carried away by
headstrong nature and that he now re-
greucd what he had done. She, his wife,
was ill and humbly begged his Majesty
to accede to the Christian charity
noble heart and bestow forgiveness om
his erring subject. The petition was sup
ported by the governor of Lublin prov-
ince, to whom the countess had obtained
a letter of introduction. Daily, Maria
Jampolska knelt and wept in her private
chapel before the image of the Holy
Virgin,

In her pasionate eagerness, she did
something that astounded the Jews of
Jampol. She drove to the house of their
rabbi, Reb Menachem Mendel, and im-
plored him to pray to God for the libera-
tion of her husband, Wladislaw, the son
of Wladislaw. A neighbor interpreted,
since the rabbi understood no Polish.
‘The countess then donated 18 rubles for
candles for the synagogue and a small
sum to be distributed among the poor.

"UAM things rest with the Lord,” the
rabbi told her. But he agreed to offer up
a prayer.

And it seemed as though he had ac-
tually worked a miracle. A communiqué
arrived from St. Petersburg announdng
that his Majesty had graciously consent-
ed to iss п amnesty to the banished
Count Wladislaw Jampolski, and that
the governor of Archangel province had
been instructed to free the count and
acilitate his journey home. Afterward, it
is discovered that the count, too, had
dressed a penitential leer co the cz
nd that the Archangel governor had
interceded in his behalf.

When the news arrived by mail, the
countess nied. Her daughter, Felicia,
revived her with eau de cologne and
dy. while the nurse, Barbara, a relic
l-white hair and a red, pock-
face, unlaced the countess’
corset. After the countess һай dozed off,
licia decided to write a letter to her
brother Josef, who had fled to London
after the uprising, and to her sister Hele-
na, who was staying with an aunt at

У

Татоќс. Her younger brother, Lucia
was either still in hiding somewhere
Poland or had perished. A Russian t
bunal had condemned him to death in
absentia, and nothing had been heard
of him since

Her father's exile to Siberia, Josel's
and flight, the death sentence
1 given a tragic sig-
"s life. She dressed in
grieved over Lucian, her
and the lost fatherland, For
now, she had nursed her a
md assumed complete charg
nor house. Though their land had
been confiscated, there still remained
the countess’ jewel box strings of р
heavy gold chains. diamond-studded
combs. golden hairpins. Among the ves
tiges of their former opulence were deli-
cate pieces of porcelain, silverware, а
gold dinner service, a harness encrusted
vith precious stones, The wardrobes
were still packed with furs, silk and satin
gowns, petticoats, jackets, capes. Books
hound in velvet and silk lined the library
,. not entirely resigned то
her fate, felt that, at 33, romance was
still a possibility for her. Her luck would
surely turn. A “gallant knight mounted

on a white horse" might still appear, а
touch of gray at his temples, gravity in
his gaze, a mature smile beneath his

ne; and at a glance he would per
ive her noble heart, the modesty of her
soul, her untapped love. A son of the old
y. he would adore poetry and
a cottage, a stream, the rustling of
the forest, the wisdom of silence. And
there would still be time to present him
with a son, whom she would name Lu-
cian Juljusz after her vanished brother
and her favorite poet, Juljusz Slowacki,
who wrote that wonderful song, £ Am
Sad, О God!

The return of the count would upset
the realities as well as che dream

Felicia wrote a few line
nd studied herself in the mirr
hair, which she wore in a bun, had once
been a honey blonde, but now it had
darkened. Her face was white and
row and there were bluish shadows un-
der her hazel eyes. She wore black—a
high-necked blouse and trailing velvet
skirt, onyx earrings, and on her left hand
onyx ring that bore the inscription of
the fateful year; 1863.

She went back to her writing. She had
childish captices, sometimes. unendura-
ble even to herself, Certain letters of the
Iphabet appeared sympathetic to her,
others odious. Even among the fowl in
the poultry yard, she had her loves and
hates. Jt was her tragedy to be incapable
of indifference.

Barbara, the old nurse, knocked at the
door.

“My dear, your mother's asl
you.”

“ГИ come right away.”

Felicia found her mother with

g for

her

head propped up on two pillows in
the four-poster bed. Two gray strands
escaped from her nightcap; her flushed

checks were criscrosed with tiny pur-
ple veins. Her small nose and thin lips
double

were bloodless above a
chin. Only an extremely. pei

pasty
ept

son could have discerned in her the t
of former beauty. The countess’ eyes
flickered open as her daughter ap

proached the bed,
“I haven't a thing to wear for your
father’s arriv You'll have to
see Nissen, the
was astonished
y. how can you say that, Mom-
ma? Your wardrobes are bulging with
clothes."
“What clothes? Rags!
“Father won't be here for weeks vet."
“I don't want to look frightful when
he returns. See how gray L am!
Felicia made no comment. Who
would have thought that her mother, old
nd ill. would still cling to feminine

B
ant me to tell Nissen?
here. I shall order new

things for you. too. We won't look

paupers when your father
Felicia's eyes filled with te:
"DH do as you say. Mother, dear.”

In the month of March, the q
Jampol was upset by the ne
Counts return from Siberia. He had
ing а low sleigh, weari
n coat, felt boots :
broad-brimmed fur hat. He had grown
perceptibly stouter. His face was flushed,
his eyes glowed with mirth and his wal-
us mustache sparkled with icicles. In
igh sat a woman in a squirrel coat,
with a man’s black fur cap on her head
and rugs wrapped around her shoulders
and knees, Halting before Galman’s tav-
the count helped his companion
down. He removed his fur coat, draping
it over the horse, and entered the tavern
boisterously, as though already drunk.

Gerz, the manservant, happened to be
behind ıl when the new arri
called our: “Hey. Jew. how about some
vodka?"

The woman, meanwhile, had taken off
her fur coat and hat. She seemed to be
in her 30s, a brunette with black eyes
dazzling teeth and a beauty spot on her
left cheek. She walked mincingly on
high-heeled boots. The townspeople, who
had gathered to welcome the count,
stared as the woman rolled a cigareue of
thin paper and tobacco, lit it and began
to exhale smoke through her nostrils. She
lifted her drink, clinked glasses with the
count, and the two exchanged remarks
in Russ

“Idiots! What are you g a1?" the
count finally shouted at the spectators-
“Do you think this is a circus?”

The count stood up, whispered some-
thing to Getz, escorted the woman to

ived dr

peasant’s sheeps

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PLAYBOY

Itche Braine's inn and. proceeded. on his
way to the manor. The counts family
were not expecting him for several days.
His wife was asleep; Felicia was reading
poetry in the library; Helena, who had
just returned from Zamosc, was at the
pianoforte in the drawing room. The
gate stood open, As the sleigh pulled
into the yard, the counts two hounds,
Wilk and Piorun, rushed toward it, yelp-
ng frantically. Wojciech, the family
coachman, whose duties now included
those of buder and vale, came ош.
Mumbling and dampeyed, he ad.
vanced, cap in hand, toward his master.
The old nurse appeared, giggled nerv-
ously, clapped her hands and then
broke into loud wails, like a peasant
mourning the dead. Helena stopped her
music and rushed out in her neg
Her father, measuring her at a glance,
remarked that she had become a beauty.
The two embraced. Felicia joined them,

and her father kised her checks. She
paled: The squire had come home
drunk.

“Well, wheres your mother?" the

count demanded impatiently.

"Mother's in bed ill.

“Whats wrong with he
sce her.

Still in his hat and coat, tracking ca
pets with mud, he strode toward the
countess’ room. Aroused by ihe commo-
tion, she was sitting up in bed, fluxered,
clutching the silver handle of a mirror.
"The count halted at the door, momen
tarily confused. Was that his wife or her
mother? In the excitement, he had for.
gotten for a second that his mothe
law was dead.

"Maria!" he shouted.

“In is really you," the countess cr
die in peace!"

"Why dic? You're not that old!"

Drawing near, he kissed her ha
brow and cheeks. She grew limp and her
face flushed. During the ten minutes the
count spent with his wife, Wojcicch u
harnessed the horse; Magda, the cook,
caught a goose and unearthed a clay
covered boule from the wine cellar, a
relic of the old days. The count emerged
from his wife's room, having removed
his overdothes and changed his felt
boots for high leather ones, Opening
door, he came upon Felicia,

“Why are you wearing black? No one
has died."
"I change soon

“What's that youre
sentimental. nonsense

“Please, Father, don't speak like that
The author is a distinguished poet, а
prophet

“A prophet ch? You'd beucr find
yourself a man and get married. Hook
the first fool that comes along.”

The tears instantly welled up in Feli
es. Her father had, indeed, grown
n his boots had а

coarser

202 vulgar squeak. He wore a rough black

shirt and a brass watch chain spread
across his vest. He resembled one of the
Russian secret police who had ransicked
the manor in their search for Lucian.

“Сой in heaven, please forgive him,”
she mumbled.

"Don't you ever crave a man?” The
count propped one foot on the uphol-
stered seat of a chair. "What do you
have in your veins: blood or sour milk?”

ather, dear, please don't start teas
ing right away, We were praying to God
for you all the time.”

Te wasn't God but
мед me an amnesty.”
Please, Father, have pity. Don't spoi
the joy of your homecoming.”

An honesttogoodnes old maid,
that's what you are. There's no God, and
Jesus was nothing but a lousy Jew. The
Apostles made religion a business.
Haven't you ever head of D
Answer me
ather, let те be."

"Don't run away. Man is descended
from the ape. For your information. one
of our forebears was nothing but
orangutan.” The count laughed. uproar-
iously. "Our ancestors perched in trees

the саг who

gr

win?

and caught fleas, That’s the undiluted

truth. There's more progress in frozen

Siberia than in all of your Poland.
. Bah!”

‘The
decline,

Calman’s daughter, and of his escape to
F е. With this new sorrow, Felicia's
first thought was to enter a convent, and
she even began correspondence with the
mother superior of a cloister. In the end.
nothing came of it. Felicia wasn't really
prepared to take the veil. She had not
up hope of marrying and
dren. In addition, she re;
ized that in a nunnery she would be con-
stantly surrounded by other women. If
her life was to be lived in isolation, she
wanted to have her thoughts as her sole
ions, and in the manor she һай
chapel and a library that were
completely her own. more, it
would be a sin to deser her, and.
though he most certainly not con-
duct himself like a Christi she knew it
was not the place of his daughter to pass
judgment on

So both she and the count stayed
where they were. His conduct continued
to be the talk of the neighborhood. He
openly consorted with his Siberian mis-
tress, Yevdotya. At length, Yevdotya
ated her house in The Sands and left
Barbara, the old nurse, died. The
cook, Magda, found a more lucrative job
at another manor, and only the coach-
man, Wojciech, stayed on. He was of no
value. As soon as he'd saved up a few
groschen. he spent them on drink.
racts formed on both his eyes and he

той

Сма-

became half blind. Felicia would have
ngly kept house for her father, but
the count managed to find himself a serv-
ant, Antosia, a soldier's wife. Felicia did
not want to allow Antosia, who had a
һай reputation, into the house, but the
count insisted that he needed her and
that if Felicia didn’t like it, she was old
enough to pack up and leave. Once again

ng her an
1 her veins
Felicia, as always,

instead of blood.
suffered in silence.

Both the neighboring gentry and the
Jews of Jampol and Skaryszew insisted
that the reason the count stayed locked
up in his house all day was that he was

attic room
whose windows faced to the rear became
the count’s sanctum; he almost never
opened the shutters. He spent his time
drinking and reading. and for months on
end was seen by по one. Even Felici.
saw him only rarely. The only or
whom he would unlock the door was Ar
tosia. Although the countess’ jewelr
been divided among her children, other
assets were still controlled by the count.
He sold a valuable harness for next to
nothing. Whenever he needed money,
he sent Antosia off to Jampol to pawn
various articles. He poured himself
whiskey by the glass, but didn't get
drunk, Fully clothed, in bed, he browsed
through old books or worked out у
gambits on a chessboard.

He made по secret of the fact th
cohabiting with Antosia, and Fe
d the maid on her way to him е
night. In his old age. her father had
turned into an animal. He did not go to
church on Sundays, observed no Chris-
tian holidays, seldom changed his
clothes, slept in his jacket and boots.
Antosia, rather than the barber, trimmed.
his beard. His mustache became
His language grew as coarse а
caicher's. He never went пе
book, but read the works of Vol
derot, Byron, Heine and George Sand, as
well as а huge history of Freemasonry
« books about the French Revolution

Mafia.
realized that the
longer she lived with this uncouth man,
the more she would deteriorate physical-
ly and spiritually. She no longer slept at
night. Though she oma sts kept growing
thinner, The mother she grieved for had
been exchanged by her father foi
enly, almost idiotic p He
phemed against God, ra
Pope. The news that Hclena had mar-
ried a cousin in Zamosc left her fathe
indifferent, and when she gave birth to

ashamed to meet Calman, An

а son, the grandfather did not even
congratulate her.
One Sunday in April, as Felicia left

church (Wojciech was waiting outside
in the britska), someone overtook her,
bowed to her and introduced himself.
He was a man of about 40, small, thin,

“Youre going to think I'm awful, but could
you folks find another spot?”

be

PLAYBO

204 chit

with а sallow face, sharp eyes and a
pointed mustache. He wore a scanty
summer coat and a derby. A colored

scarf covered his throat. For some rea-
son, Felicia assumed he was a foreigner.
He removed his hat, revealing curly,

chestnut hair already graying at the tem-
ples. His tone was familiar, as if he knew
her. He said that his name was Dr. Mari-
an Zawacki and that he had come from
Paris. Lucian had asked him to convey
regards to his sister. Zawacki also men-
tioned that Lucian was in need of finan-
cial help, that he was in danger of being
deported as a public charge. Felicia,
unaccustomed to standing in the street
with a suange man, was afraid people
would laugh at her. After some hesita-
ion, she invited Zawacki to join her in
the britska and accompany her to the
manor. It was the first time the Countess
Felicia had ever been seen in the com-
y of a man. Everyone looked and
snickered, even the Jews.

Although the old count did not gener-
ally come downstairs for dinner, he
formed his daughter through Antosia
that this time he would dine with their
guest. Felicia was apprehensive, for her
father had forgotten his manners com-
pletely. Not only was he liable to come
to the table in a housecoar and <
but he might appear simply for the pur-
pose of insulting acki. Felicia there-
fore warned the doctor beforehand that
her father was not entirely well. “L know,
" Zawacki replied. "Lucian takes
ter him. Your mother was the normal
member of the family."

Felicia had never heard a total stran-
ger speak this way before. But who
knew what the world was coming to?
Zawacki had admitted without. embar-
rassment that his father was a Warsaw
cobbler and that his maternal grand-
ther had been a blacksmith in Pultusk.
While finishing medical school in P:
Marian had supported himself as a tour-
ist guide and for a short time һай man-
aged a soup kitchen for Polish refugees,
Tt was at the soup kitchen that he had
met Lu ia shuddered at every
word he spoke. He related how the
people of Paris had eaten mice at the
time of the Prussian siege of 1870 and
how he himself had caught a cat and
skinned and roasted it

It made Felicia feel sick and she said,
“1 would rather dic than cat anything so
disgusting.”

“What's disgusting about it? We're all
made of the same stuff.

‘You don't believe that man's soul is

“Absolutely not,” Zawacki replied.

The count, though generally impatient
with people, took to Zawacki immediate-
ly. Felicia, who had helped prepare the
Sunday dinner, had covered the table
with an elegant cloth and the finest
and silver . But the conversa

n during the meal revolted her. The
men began with a discussion of shoem:
ing and tanning, the count wanting to
know how leather was tanned, why oa
bark was needed. which hides were used
for soft leather and which for hard.
When they had finished with the manu-
facture of shoes, the count's curiosity
turned to autopsy. Zawacki described the
methods used in opening abdomens and
skulls. Anatomy, he explained, had al-
ways been his specialty. Moreover, he had
a steady hand and wasn't in the least
sentimental. When Zawacki described in
detail how, after having first removed the
ferus from her womb, he had cut open
a pregnant woman who had drowned
herself in the Seine, Fe turned white
and had to be excused. Zawacki didn't
bother to apologize. “After a while, you
get used to such things,” he said. “Why,
1 sometimes had to boil human heads on
my own stove.”

He brought regards from Lucian—if
Lucian’s bitter message could be consid-
ered a greeting. Lucian, he said, was a
drunken idler and a psychopath to boot.
His wife and the child were starvi
Lucian's latest plan was either to enlist
п the Foreign Legion or to go off to
America. When dinner was finished, the
count brought out his chessboard and
lost three games in a row to the doctor.
As they played, the men rocked back
and forth in their chairs, smoking pipes
nd curing. Every third word they ut-
tered was psiakrew—dog's blood. Feli-
cia could scarcely endure be 1 the
presence of this coarse litle man in
whom all the defects of her father were
duplicated. She wanted to get rid of him
as soon as possible, but the count had
other ideas and. invited. Zawacki to stay
on for a day or two.

After the count had gone to bed, Feli-
cia walked out into the night; suddenly
she found herself confronted by Zawacki.
The doctor was carrying а crooked cane.

“Oh, it’s you." Without further ado,
he joined her as if they were the oldest
nds, He had gone to school in Kra-
he told her, but had found himself
at odds with the other students. Unlike
them, he had been opposed to the 1863
uprising which he had regarded as
nothing less than lunacy. He had known
even then that General Mieroslawsl
the worst of ch: nd Prince Lubo-
mürski nothing but a pickpocket. As for
Mickiewicz’ son. what could one say of
п other than that a great man had
sired a midget? According to Zawacki,
not even Prince Czartoryski was worth
much, the truth being that the whole
bloody business had been nothing but a
filthy adventure led by a group of senti-
mental idiots, irresponsible parasites and
arbaric women. Felida was appalled.
The count himself was not so disrespect-
Шу Zawacki left the subject of
politics and began to discuss his own
. His medical career had started

мапе

Тале because he had had to move from
university to university. Then, too, Na-
poleon II's insane war with Prussia and
the crazy antics of the Paris Commune

had intervened. Thank God, he was at
ke, he
tantly shifted from Polish to French

last a certified physician. As he spol
con
and back to Polish agai

"What's going to happen to you, living
here among these ruins?" he asked. “A
person could easily lose his mind in such
an atmosphere.

Felicia defended herself, although she
scarcely knew why. “I can't leave my
father."

“Let's face it, your father’
slightly degenerate besides.”
Although it was not her nature to be

senile and

rude, Felicia found it difficult to control
her temper. “You're speaking about my
father.”

“What's a father? I hadn't seen my

father in years; I went home on a visit,
kissed him and then I didn't have three
words to say to him.”

“Is there anyone who doesn't bore

jou
ut nkly, no. Some people are abso-
lutely mad about dogs, bur T hate the a
mals. A dog is nothing but a flatterer. a
sycophant. I prefer canaries or parrots.
Monkeys are interesting, too."

“All animals are interesting,

"Well, at any rate, they don't talk non-
sense, and they die more gracefully than
men, People cling to life as if it were all
п and rose water."

“What an odd comparison."

“How is it that you've never married?”
asked suddenly.

The blood rushed to Felicia's face.
"No onc wants me.

"I'd want you

Felicia paled.
ing fun of me.”

"Not at all. Ir's true you're not young,
but neither are you old. Besides. you're a
good-looking woman. Lucian showed me
the photograph you sent him. He also
told me about your eccentricities.

"What. eccentricities?”

"Oh, your piety and all that. I can't
stand women who are too clever—the
cunning one, ] mean. Now, don't be
offended. It's just my way of speaking.

^I see.

“I want to open an office and I need a
wile.

Felicia lowered her head. She realized
that the man was in earnest. She had
received her first proposal.

тп afraid you're mak-

Although Count Wladislaw Jampolski
constantly stressed the bankruptcy of the
Polish nobility, proclaiming their infe-
riority to the merchant class and even to
the Jewish storekeepers, he was unwill-
ing to have the wedding of his daughter
Felicia to Dr. Marian Zawacki take place
at the castle. The count stated it plainly:
no concern of his that Felicia was
marrying the son of a shoemaker—he

Do You Swing Hig

Enough

to Wear a Baylor Watch?

If you do, you know it already.
The Baylor watch, like all the best.
watches, is made in Switzerland. It's
handcrafted to the most exacting
stendards by master watchmakers
who use only the finest materials.
And pride. The result is a jeweled
precision movement. An accurate
watch. А dependable watch. A Baylor

watch. The Baylor name comes free.
You pay for a fine watch, not a
status symbol. It says a lot about
you. That you demand the finest,
regardless of price. That you don't
need a famous-name security blanket
on your wrist. That you swing high.

But you know that already.

PAYOR,

franchised exclusively to ZALE'S JEWELERS

PLAYBOY

206

even regarded it аз an honor—but it was
impossible for him to meet the shoe-
maker and his family at the manor or to
dine or spend time with them. To
he said: “IT give you my blessing: go
with him where you wish. But I'm not in
the mood for any shoemaker partie
There was nothing for Felicia to do
but weep. Her tears soaked the earth at
her mother’s grave. She had already knelt
for a long time in the chapel before the
picture of the Holy Mother, pniyed,
crossed herself, murmured her suppli
licia had no illusions about. her
coming marriage: Zawacki was a despot,
kneaded from the same dough as her

father; he would insult her and deride
her in the true manner of a plebeia па
he would bring her and his boorish fami

ly together. Yet though she would suffer
in this milicu, it was preferable to
remaining alone with a half-demented
father om a manor that belonged 10 a
Jew. Н she must submit to а tyrant, why
not one of her own age? Who could tell?
He might even be good to her, perhaps
she could still have children. Her father
maintained that sour milk ran in her
veins, but it far from the truth.
More than once, at night, Felicia had
felt that the blood within her was his.

Lying in bed until dawn, Felicia took
stock of herself, She could not become a
nun, even if she forced herself to enter a
convent, She would be in of

breaking her vows, and instead of pleas
ing God she would anger Him. But she
could not m
heaven had des у
was meant to suffer, this marriage would
be her cross. During sleepless nights,
cia vowed 10 be Ё ан

and to show him and his relatives ai
example of Christian devotion. Why тш
away from temptation?

But it was not entirely convenient to
marry without a mother, a sister or a
brother. Felicia certainly must haye a
trousseau, but she h idea what she
needed or how to prepare it. Her father's
refusal to attend the wedding was an in-
sult both to Felic id to M; n's fami-
n wanted to get it all over with
is impatience and contempt for
ceremony were similar to her fathei
Nevertheless, Felicia could not allow her
wedding to
long and uncertainl
help fh

long letter
«vice of the
npol priest and his housekeeper, ma

ies of her aum Eugenia and her
could not go to
her husband like a pauper without a
wardrol
The › al weeping spells
nd lack of sleep undermined her health.
She lost her appetite, Instead of gaining

“Where is your protective helmet, young lady?”

weight, she grew thinner. was perpetual-
ly constipated. Her periods became
regular. Every few
her bands. At night she was tormented
y feelings of doubt, turned in her bed,
tossed, sighed: Would she be able to sat-
Му a man? Would Marian be disap-
pointed with her the very fint night
Would his relatives conspire ag

inst her,
ridicule her. would she have to return i
shame to her
ments wher
tear her hair. But her belief i
His providence and His absolute good-
ness kept her from acting desperately.
Felicia discovered that when опе
ks help, there are always those who
will respond. Old noblewomen, former
friends of the coi ow

es, began to s

roses.
me to
ents,
fitted her, wished her luck. At every op-
portunity he mentioned the goodness
1 generosity of the late countess, Feli-

da's decision to marry Dr, Zawacki had
in some brought her
doser to people. even to those who had

never known her before.

Her fiancés father, the shoemaker,
7 1 an old house on

to enter а shoemaker's s
and see her future father
cobble
apron, sewing a shoe with
nealle, surrounded. by his five helpers.
One bored holes with awl, oi
pounded in ticks with a hammer; anoth-
er rubbed a heel with a piece of
ıd a fourth trimmed а sole

curved shoemaker’s knife.

his wears. His thick black mustaches
coiled up at the ends, and though the
comparison embarrassed. Felicia, his eyes
had the gleam of polished shoes. His
hands were hairy. his hngers short, the
square nails ringed with dirt. He did not
even rise when Felicia entered. Meas-
p her with an experienced gaze, he
lled to his wife in the kitchen, “Hey,
atarzyna, we've got a visitor!”

woman
ngry eves, who
son. Seeing Felicia, she
ped her fingers on her apron,
‘cuted something like a curtsy and
extended a dirty hand. Felicia had come
alone. М. d not wanted to be
present wh met his parents.
The gracious countess
Felicia walked past a kitchen where
large pots boiled on the stove. The
helpers received food in addition to their
wages. On the table there was a loaf of
black bread larger than any Felicia had
ever seen. In the living room there was a
dreser with a mirror and a vase full of

artificial flowers. A roll of flypaper dan-
gled from the lamp. Two framed photo-
graphs of husband and wife together
and a photograph of an in the
uniform of a high school student hung
on the wall Although it was mid-
summer, the windows were nailed shut,
and for a moment the smell of dust and.
leather nauseated Felicia. She sat on the
sofa upholstered in some shiny material,
and green wheels spun before her eyes.

“Would it inconvenience you terribly
to open the window?’ licia asked.

"Window? What for? It’s still nailed
up for the winter.

"My wife is afraid of fresh air," Anto-
ny Zawacki said accusingly. "Excuse my
language, Countess, but it stinks here!”

He leaped to the window and, tearing
it open, pulled out the length of straw
that had sealed it against the wind. A
mild breeze smelling of refuse and pitch
blew in from the courtyard

“Well, why are you so quiet?” Anto-
ny asked his wife. “Offer the countess
something!”

“1 don’t need you to teach me man-
ners, Antony! I wasn't brought up in
the gutter,"

“The countess must be thirsty.”

“Oh, no, thank you.”

Husband and wife both went into the
kitchen. Felicia heard them wrai
When Antony Zawacki returned,
saw that he had replaced his apron with

a skimpy jacket. It made him look dum-
sy. A tin stud was buttoned into his shirt
collar. There was an air of plebeian un-
couthness in his gaze, his mustaches, his
unshaven jaw and thick neck with its
swollen veins. He carried in a wooden
tray with a carafe of wine, glasses and
cookies. Katarzyna had by this time also
changed her clothes. She wore a yellow
dress with a pleated bodice. Felicia re-
gretted that she had allowed Marian to
persuade her to visit his parents unex-
pectedly.

Although in no mood to drink wine,
Felicia sipped it and remarked that it
was good. The cookies were hard as pcb-
bles Katarzyna kept returning to thc
kitchen and her pots.

“The esteemed countess sees us for
what we are: common folk,” Antony Za-
wacki said. "We've earned everything
with our own hands—the house, the
workshop. Marian had a good head for
books | wanted to make a shoemaker
out of him, but he said: *Poppa, I haven't
the patience for heels and soles.’ ‘What
do you want? I asked him. "To become a
priest and have maidservants confess to
you?’ In short, he wanted an education.
‘Well, go ahead and study, I said. He
filled the whole house with books. I gave
him everything he needed, but he got
hold of a boy, some lame-brain who
needed help with his lessons and whose
parents could pay. Well, let him be a

student, I thought. In this way, he got
through high school and earned a gold
medal. He could have studied at the uni-
versity here, but he insisted on going to
Krakow. His mother began to carry on:
‘So far away!—my only son.’ I had an-
other son, too, but no more. Well, to
make a long story short, I sent him to
Kraków and he stud there. After-
ward, he went to France. А war started
there and I read in the papers that а rab-
bit cost fifty franc. There the currency
is francs, not guilders. A cat was fifteen
francs, and one egg five francs, They
have a park where they kecp animals,
and all the bears and peacocks and the
others were eaten. My wife began to
wail: ‘Our Marian will starve to death!"
But, somehow, he came back healthy, if
emaciated. He said: ‘Poppa, I want to
marry Countess Jampolska.’ ‘Where did
you meet а countess?’ I asked. ‘You may
be a doctor, but your father is а shoe-
maker." ‘Well,’ he said, ‘times have
changed." What do they call it? De-moc-
racy. He said, ‘Naked, we all stem from
apes.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘if its all right with
her parents, it's all right with me. Your
wife,’ I said, ‘will be like a daughter to
me——'

Katarzyna returned from the kitchen.
“What's the difference what you said? If
our boy loves someone, we like her, too.”

IMPORTED RARE SCOTCH

NEA BLENDED SCOICH WHISKY рона PACOF IMPORTED BY INVER HOUSE OSTIENS, LID, PMLA

207

PLAYBOY

WHAT;SINAWAME?)
those two beetlebrains George Scheman-
and Ralph Schlock штей up any-

hey still work for you, I assume?
Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Clyde Bagwell

Clyde: Schemanske and Schlock seem
to be letting me down on getting names
from their sections. Schemanske can't
seem to remember that I’m the boss. 1
was needling him on the phone today
about getting on the ball about this
name thing and he wound up by nee-
dling me about my last golf score so bad
that I hung up on him. He doesn't give
damn who he makes fun of—me, the
corporation, the Old Man, anybody.
What I wouldn't give to shut his water
off.

Ed

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL,
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Ed Wright

Dear Ed: You know perfectly well that
you'll have to live with Schemanske. Let
me remind you that his grandfather was
Iron Pants Schemanske and he needled
his way up from a coremaker in the foun-
dry 10 executive v
jor stockholder of this corporation before
he retired. George is pretty sharp in his
ight, thoi ıd 1 think he'll give
you а lot of help if you
stop telling Polack jokes c

Look, something strange
happened upstairs, in case
know. Snake
heads up our computer gang of busad.
brains, has just moved into a new office
next door to the Old Man, In fact, they
cut down the Old Man's space 10 make
room for Fletcher's office. I guess you
know that Snake-Eyes is the number-one
an in this corporation. His spe-
cialty is cutting people's water off, and
right now I wonder (and probably the
Old Man does, too) if the Old. Man
going to get his faucet turned. О
worse, is Fletcher going to start shaking

under our salaried personnel? 1

rd he's got this theory that you can
shake ont 2000 salaried people
nd show a profit that way, if no other.
Anyway, I get the feeling that this
sponis" car has got to move, or else, and.
Snake-Fyes Fletcher is here to see that it
does.
I hare to sce the computer gang move
оп the Old Man. He is а wild-ass
Khrushchev individualist type, with guts
out of his ears, but he's up ада

own

don’t
Fletcher, the guy who

you

eve

208 that I'm dead, too, unless I study busi-

(continued from page 149)
ness ad., but I don't see how in hell I can
ever dress like a licensed embalmer
play it from Grimsville like the computer
ang

I know it sounds corny as hell, but
lets get on this name thing for the Old
Man, if for по other reason than to
save his ass.

Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Clyde Bagwell

Clyde: How about letting me replace
Schemanske with Schlock? Schemanske
boulenecked me about up to the
He topped it all off with a real jui
¢ today. I sent him à
him that the Old Man was about due to
jounce building of The Thing and he
me back a memo asking me if it was
ue the Old Man was called Ding Dong
behind his back. This he put in writing!

Ed

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)
ight
Ed: Schlock is strictly a light
ight. He d is what
the Old M. ass. He is li
personnel review
s got and he'll be there

the job he

while. I know Schemanske is а
‚ and the first chance ] get to
dentally" waylay him in the coffee-

room, ТЇЇ cool him. In the meantime,
MES ... remember?
- Clyde

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Ed Wright

Dear Ed; That awful silence from
your department had better end, because
we are locked in for sure now. E attend-
ed the styling meeting this afternoon.
keEves Fleichei there
black suit апа rimless glasses
puter-type haircut. The Old Man called
me by name. Fletcher looked at
heard the memory cells go click.
know why guys get muscle spasms when
they find they are seated next to Snake-
Eyes at any kind of meeting, or even at
lunch. If he asks you one question you
can't answer—look out, you may be dead.

Anyway, the Old Man gave u
official word on The Thin
10 build it. He got out his favorite st
template that is actually the curves off
Lana Turner's leg. He personally got up
on the platform and showed us how the
legcurve template fits all the styling
curves on The Thing, He got a big hand
from everybody except Fletcher, Fletcher
icked his nose, It is amazing what a
chill that guy can put on you

(Incidentally, you'd. beuer shred and

was

bur

this and any other memo where I
ss Snake-Eyes. God knows who
Fletcher's finks are.) Anyway, as 1 said,
we are officially locked in: and, Edward,
we had better produce a name. Produce.
Clyde

OFFICE OF THE VICE-PRESIDENT
(CONFIDEN TIAL—SECURITY
IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY)
Fellow Employees:

Tam

sking everyone to fall to and
help us select a name for a stunning new
automobile.

This car will be the most beautiful we
ive ever produced. It is long, low and
he in silhouette, and appears to hug
the road. Its youthful, sportscar styling
is based almost entirely on harmonious,
beautiful curves, all mathematically г
lated to one another by means of

si

ing computer, Very little chrome oi
ornamentation is used. Even the head
lamps are rimless, at Mr. Fletcher's

suggestion.
Unfortunately, Mr.
our new controller, has been unable to
allocate any budget for this phase of
«ar development, зо we will all be work-
ing on our own time, so to speak. Please
channel all your ideas through Mr. Clyde
Bagwell of my office, for review by Mr.

Fletcher and myself.
Th

Fletcher, who is

nk you,

D. D. Bell
Vice-President

Sales

FROM TH!

DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Ей W
Dear Ed: Here it is. I better not find
anybody knitting at the foot of the guil-
lotine, either. He put my name in that
damn memo, right along with Fletch
If you took an ах and cut a hole
head, right now, all it 5
mes... names... names. It better
чап ng names. Don't edit them.
Just get gobs. What we need now is wl
is called instant response . . . хо, for
God's sake, bear down. I took the dic-
tionary home Гог the weekend, but so
far Fm lost in a desert where all the
oases are owned by GM and Ford.
Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDENTIAL)
10: Clyde Bagwell

Clyde: I finally got some action out of
George Schemanske, and with all of hi
usual tact, I might add. It seems he and
his people w ing lunch the other
ay and talking about Fletcher. This, he
led to snake names. They decided
ad the best snake name sewed up
with Cobra, and Chrysler's Barracuda
has cut the finny man-killers out from
under us. However, kicking around other
deadly items (he says), they happened

Women аге
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who aré discovering

Why? Because
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happens to a man

when he steps

into a pair of boots.

{Like that Acme

- cowboy, Dingos chukka or
Hawkeye Wellington up there.)

Maybe it's the way he swaggers a bit.

Maybe it's the romance of boot wearing. Maybe

it's the solid masculine look. Acme boots have a way of
attracting attention. Their

quality is seen in every detail

of stitching and pattern de-

sign. And Acme Boots take a

back seat to none when it comes to
comfort, choice and durability,
Women Are Discovering Men Who Are
Discovering Boots. So, wear

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For your nearest Acme dealer, write Dept, 61
ACME BOOT COMPANY. INC. WORLD'S LARGEST BOOTMAKERS
Clarksville, Tennessee 37040 А Subsidiary of Philadelphia & Reading Corporation

PLAYBOY

210

to come up with Scorpion. It scems а
rather obvious name, and 1 suppose
someone would have come up with it
sooner or later. However, it might be а
real winner, although I don't know what
Mr. Bell thinks about crabs or whatever
a scorpion is.

Ed

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL.
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Ed Wright
Dear Ed: Absolutely tremendous
name. 1 think. I passed it on to the Old
Man and he was real motivated. Really
got to waving his arms and then all at
once he remembered the styling. tem
plate based on Lana Turner’s leg. When
I left him, 1 had the feeling he was in a
short-circuited condition, looking at the
template and trying to relate the name of
some vicious kind of crab to that set of
curves hes hung up оп. Hold your left
eyebrow and p we got a winner.
Meanwhile, start waving layoff slips
around or do something to get action out
of your people. Bear down, Ed. Names
Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
SEIDENTIAL)

Here is a suggestion-plan form

seniorgrade kook in Ralph

rtment 1 Horace J.

ce is an astronomer, you'll

nam

Updyke.
notice, and he's using the suggestio

minds
Я ir мат
sts seems ball hell.
The funny thing is that Horace is a
bandy-legged, wispy little guy who'll
probably be salary grade five forever.
Ed

€ о

‹

ҮРЕ BAGWELL,
AL)

FROM THE DESK OF
(CONFIDEN

то: Ed Wright
Dear Ed: Centaur hit the Old М
where he lives. When he really gets
stoked up, he makes me think of this Al
Capp character, Bullmoose, remember?
His mustache curls up and his nose kind
of spreads wide. You expect him to
whinny. sort of. Anyway, he was going
great guns, prancing around the office,
and Fletcher, who was haunting him, was

“TIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMBERRRRRRR!”

just sitting there. Remember the day the
Old Man told the men’s club that if he
was an actor. he would call himself Rut
Gonad, so that people would get the idea
immediately? Well. he was in one of
those moods. He that at heart, he,
himself, a centaur. You know, he
says to Sr es, the upper half of me
a man and the lower part some kind of
two-legged goat, hools and all.

Fletcher let him get all wou
snorty and then he says: What you are
thinking of is а satyr; a centaur is a man
mixed up with a horse. He's half horse,
says Fletcher, a man from the belly but-
ton up. He's half man and half ass.

I was looking at Snake-Eyes when he
said this, I felt suddenly cold, like it was
the Great Depression again and I had
turned into an old man in a threadbare
tweed coat selling apples on the street

Thats how it hit me. It was
t with the Old Man.
cars lit up. bright red, and he
made funny, chomping noises. I know he
took the Carnegie course and for а sec-
ond, there, 1 thought the whole thing
ht come out of his ears in a little puff
kc and the Old Man would then
do the fastest Jekyll and Hyde you сусг
*. regresin; back to Cro-M
and belt Fletcher senseless with

l up and

non

r or something. But he got control
of himself, finally,
hell at SnakeEyes, except that hi

ill lit up like Thunderbird
ps Then he just ignored Fletcher
told me to get the research people goi

nd smiled sweetly as

cars

on Centaur: It just might be the name.
Meantime, he says, keep the names
coming.

Clyde

FROM THE DES!
SON

LYDE BAGWELL.
TAL)

то: Ed Wri
Listen, Ed, don't ever again get wise
ith me on the phone like today, when I

asked you if your department was out of
creative gas and you said yes. Thi
time for a serpent’stooth routine. We
are in terrible bad trouble. Legal doesn't
buy either Scorpion or Centaur. They
think both names are bad for our corpo-
rate image: Scorpion because it’s a poi-
sonous crab and Centaur because it is а
posible dirty-joke bomb, like the Edsel
grille. Legal says that in order to get a
Centaur, some human being would have
to cohabit with a horse, and this corpora-
tion can't be found in the position of
vocuing that, How does that grab you?
In addition, that creep Schultz was able
10 ger at least five dirty stories
about a Centaur. They were funny, all
right, but I'm glad I'm not Schultz. All
in all, the longer I live, the more I sce
that Legal is the most negative bunch of
bastards 1 ever knew.

On top of it all, S

e-Eyes Fletcher

has gotten the Old Man off balance.
Otherwise, I'm sure he would just Пай
hell out of Legal, like he has in the past.
I liked Centaur, anyway, and so did the
Old Man. But Im afraid that Fletcher
has got him thinking of home and fire-
side out in Bloomfield Hills and how
hard it was to come by.

Ed, you have got to get on the ball
and get some names. Give. We are in a
sinking condition.

Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Edward Wright
manskc

one in, but his bowling team thought of
it, so here goes. The name is Bolide. Bo-
lides are missiles or slung balls. Slung
balls ought to fracture. Ding Dong.
Your pal. George

INTERD!
(co:
: George Schemanske
Bolides are also comets or
h Legal. first, wise
guy. So it looks like Bolide was a gutter
ball, pal. In more ways than one, I might
add. Care to try again?

gai
Ed Wright

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Ed Wright
Dear Ed: Do you have a girl in your
organization named Ann that you can
came in my
confidential mail and it looks like а win-
Sec if you can find her, bur first

this thing.

Clyde

(CONFIDENTIAL AS ALL

Why fight it? The Th
have a woman's name. What kind of a
me? Easy - What is the
tone of this era if it erdám-
merung—twilight of the gods and all
that? Doesn't everyone have a death wish
ог a death fascination, thinking of the
bomb? Or Decoration Day кабс? And
aren't we morally just all shot to hell?
I think it would be just Freudian as the
dickens and sexy as hell in a r wild
modern way to givea сага woman's name
that also synonymous with death,
You could use Black Widow or Iron
stance; but for my money,
there's only one that will ever fit this
picture, and that's the oll Wagnerian
smasheroo—the Valkyrie.

Here’s what the big dictionary says:

Valkyrie . . . chooser of the sla
one of Odi handmaidens who
watched over the battlefields, chose

De on

“They re turning back anyone who
doesn't believe in Gad.

those who were to be slai ad con-
ducted to Valhalla the souls of the
selected heroc:

Doesn't that give you goose bumps
and make your flesh crawl? Wow! What
ad possibilities! Think of the singing
commercials based on Wagner's оре
stuff. It must all be in the public doma
and every bit of it stirring as hell! Sample
slogan:

GIVE YOUR GIRLFRIEND THE OLD

GOTTERDAMMERUNG IN А VALKYRI

With this kind of promotion, I feel the
name has tremendous possibilities. The
car might even go over bigger than LSD
or pot with the college kiddies. I know
its Viking background origins amd all
that, but it should still be a h.

Especially since 1 understand the car
is designed after Lana "Turner's leg.

Lovingly,
An

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
(CONFIDENTIAL)

t kind of sick crap is this?
Somebody in our organization is а real
kook. I knew sure as hell that Purchasing
would screw us up someday by forcing
Personnel to buy those low-budget-type
personal-history reports. Somebody should
have plowed a litle deeper into this
Ann's background, whoever she is.

I don't find any Anns on the payroll
yet, but guess what is going to hit the
fan when I do.

Ed

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)

ts,

because the goddamn can't

send one line of copy in here without
larding it from end to end with them like
they were knocking out deathless prose
with a ball bat. But I am going to allow
myself just one. I think we sold Valkyrie!

I figured we were scraping bottom
this time, so it was now or never. I knew
I could sell Valkyrie to the Old Man if I
could belt it hard enough to get his
mind off the Viking connection. So I took
a hell of a chance and called a meetii

even in
told the Old Man I wanted to make a
presentation of a new name that 1

thought was a winner and that, further,
I wanted to do the presentation in
way that we might do it for the nai
de:

juiced up I didn't really give a damn.

I needed a real eyecatcher, and for
some time now, I have been noticing a
new girl working the copying machine
оп the second floor. She is a temporary
employee named Cunegonde Jones, but
the boys all call her God-Whata-Bod.
Terific. So I got her released from the
job for a day and took her downtown
d found a pleated Greek-goddess type
of dres that fied her. Then 1 taught
her to hum Wagner's Evening Star, with

lots of chest action. After that, I sneaked
her into the styling auditorium where
The Thing is and rehearsed her in this

routine I had in mind.

I was a little plowed by the time
everybody got there for the meeting and
got seated. 1 had hidden a bottle in the
clothes closet in case I got nervous, and
when Snake-Eyes Fletcher came in, it

PLAYBOY

212

letuz Who everybody seated and the lights ош and
got on the microphone. I ran through а

Ban Spray DE dak could face you quick introduction that I think was s

and | have a different date місе! hell, because I got around the Viking

For once, everything worked. The
curtain slid back and there was The Bod,
standing ii dry-ice mist that the fans
were blowing just right, so that it looked
like she and the car were Пол
through the clouds. God, wh; hum-
mer she turned out to be. Besides that,
either she had nothing on under the
dress or the lights were brighter than 1
thought they'd be, because all at once it
seemed that ever in the mceting
was a mouth breather or had adenoid
trouble. She hummed a few bars and
sort of bugaloo-undulated alongside the
car and slid into the passenger's seat. I
had the tape of The Evening Star
plugged into the PA system, and 1
brought this up loud in a roaring finale
and closed the curtain.

The place fell apart. McGroggin him-
self, from Legal, was therc, instead of
ic of his gophers, and he was even ap-
plauding. All the timc that the Old Man
was pounding me on the back and tell-

g me what a job we'd done, I was

ing to keep from. breathing bourbon
in his face and at the same time trying to
get a line on Snake-Eyes Fletcher.

Then I saw him. Не had his head
poked behind the curtain, Finally, he
came down from the stage with God-
w Bod in tow, leading her by the
hand. She must have atuendcd some
kind of school to learn to walk the way
she was walking right then. When she
got real cle: the Old Man kind of
jerked and bit his cigar in The loose
piece fell on the rug and he didn't even
notice it

l looked at Fletcher real close. His
eyes had a funny glitter and his lips
twitched. His Adam's apple pumped up
and down real fast. His glasses began to
steam, I think, because he took them off
and began to polish them. His hands
shook quite a lot. He was standing very
close to The Bod.

Then Ѕпаке-Еусѕ grinned, like some-
thing funny had hit him. His grin is
indescribable. It is something like the
kind a tomcat gets when he has gas on.
his stomach.

“Valkyries always wear chest armor,"
he says, very loudly.

It got very quiet. And then the Old
Man said “Goddamn” several times, each
time getting louder and sort of lingering
over the syllables.

Snake-Eyes Fletcher giggled. The hair
оп my neck stood up. Because his giggle
sounded like he was some kind of a nut
who had found a portable gas chamber
and a whole pot full of cyanide pills. For
a second, it got awful damn quiet.

Then it hit us. Fletcher was putting us

here every night! / bit. Then I pushed the buzzer

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on. Everybody began to laugh in a kind
of weak mi keeping their eyes on
Snake-Eyes Fletcher, just in case. So you
sec, Edward, my boy—Fletcher does
ave a sense of humor. after all; but
what kind it is I can’t tell you, because
the French government locked up all the
works of the Marquis de Sade.
nyway, it was a smash. When T left
the auditorium, all the gophers had been
to the offices, and all the
back in a corner with the
1. getting some advertising ideas
watching The Bod hum The Evening
Star.
Oh, ye
idea it was
said mine. You

The Old Man asked whose

. 1 mean—and I

c it from there.
Clyde

INTERDEPART
(CONF
10: Clyde Bagwell

Clyde: 1 lelt this on your desk while
you were ош. When you read it, you'll
see why I hand-carried it personally.

Our gal Ann turns out to be Joe the
mailboy. How docs that grab you?
Maybe Personnel will listen to me next
time 1 tell them that when I ask for a
mailboy, | want a mailboy, not a com.
skills major from Michigan State.

After I really started shaking the
grates in the depariment, he came for-
ward and said he did it, Seems he got
hung up (he says) on reading the confi-
dential mail he was ca use it
was such lousy prose styl уз he
got to feeling sorry for us while we were
trying to find a name, and he thought he
would sneak in Valkyrie just for laughs.
He thought it would be cute to sign the
leuer “Ann,” as short for Anonymous.
We had quite a session. What do I do
now?

Ed

FROM THE DESK OF CLYDE BAGWELL
(CONFIDENTIAL)
10: Ed Wright
Dear Ed: (1 send you this by means of
my new helper.) Turn his water off.
Thats what you do. It solves everything.
Clyde

INTERDEPARTMENTAL МЕМО
(CONFIDENTIAL)

то: Clyde Bagwell
Clyde: (You're right about. God-What-
a-Bod. What a helper she is going to be!
I wish I had onc) ГИ proceed with
Operation Faucet, per your suggestion,
Ed

NDE BAGWELL
TIAL)

то: Ed Wright
Dear Ed: 1 have been working so hard
lately that the Old Man has decided I

should get some rest by taking a small
unit out to the West Coast with the Va
kyrie prototype to get some sneak back-
ground shots with mountain backdrops,
beach scenes, etc., for the preannounce-
ment show. 1 am, naturally, taking my
new helper along as a kind of girl
1 expect you to have the faucet
d by the time I get back.

Clyde

PRIVILEGED AND СО:

DENTIAL

Dear Clyde:

1 made our boy “available for trans-
fer” today. When I filled out the Form
101, 1 put the secret mark on it. He'll
probably be sent around to five or six
different departments by Personnel for
interviews, but nobody will pick him up,
because 1 put the "undesirable" sign on
the 101. One of the dogoodem from
Personnel called me on the phone about
putting the Indian sign on the kid and I
told him we suspected the kid of being a
Chevrolet spy. That ripped it. I had a
dirtier опе up my sleeve, but I didn’t
have to use it. I was going to tell them
that he secretly called himself “Ann
That would have really cooked
goose.

I certainly hope that you and your
helper are getting темей up. Your wife
called today to ask if I had heard from
At the time she called, I

his

you. was

reviewing all our confidential correspond-
ence on the Valkyrie, I must say that it
makes interesting reading and I think I'll
keep it under lock and key just for the
hell of it. i wouldn't want Mr, Fletcher
to sce it.

Your friend, Ed

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS MOTEL.

The George Spelvin Agency
Harding А
"

nex,

Michig:

Dear Mr. Spelvin:

I can't thank you enough for this
"factfinding" assignment. Who would
ave thought it would lead to Calilor
It has been most interesting.

I am separately mailing about two
pounds of 8x 10 glossy prints of myself
and the Valkyrie that one of the photog-
raphers made for me. The dear boy and.
l have been all over this part of the
country and we have һай l ball.
ik I have gotten. much more in-
n lor your client than ever I
ave gotten running the copying
machine, and Mr. Bagwell has bei
fun, I will regret leaving you this fall, as
much as I do leaving this crazy automo-
bile business, which is really somet
like the dancing sickness of the Middle
Ages. But I must be getting on with my
master's in education, Just keep se
the checks to Moth

Sincerely yours,
Cunegonde Jones

“Let's see. We've included voyeurism, nudity,
homosexuality and sadism, but 1
keep feeling we've forgotten something.”

213

н
©
m
н
=
a
а

214 modern or beautiful as

PLEASE DONT TALK TO МЕ — (concinuect from page 127)

ше to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge the
next time I sce you.

Penthouse B was tremendous. Sort of
like the Palladium Ballroom in Holly-
wood, only with rugs; thick, deep, rich
wall-to-wall rugs, surrounded on four
by brightred Balian-silk, fully
drapes and original 18th Century.
hings by Hepplewhite and Adam.

“You've got an appointment?" the lit-
tle old gray-haired secretary asked, look-
ing up over a glass of hot tea.
ne,” I told her. “Yes, T

mii " she said, and
shuffled across the monstrous office. She
was back in a minute. "OK, go on in.
Here, take this with you.
me a Kaiser roll wrapped
"Sce that he cars it.
started. walking.

Mr. Zander, very tanned, in an
open-neckcd sport shirt in extremely
bad taste, was а pleasant-looking white-
haired gentleman in his сапу 60s. The
2000-Year-Old Man, Y thought to my-
self, remembering the Mel Brooks
bum. On his desk were four phones,
three empty cardboard containers of
buttermilk, a pair of rusty scissors and a
check, made out to the Fruit of the Loom
underwear company for $93,416, that he
just signed,
it down, my son, sit down,” he said
in his best Mitteleuropa accent. I never
had a gtandfather—at least, not one І
can remember, but I did my best.

“5и, I'd like to begin work immediate-
ly here at Zander's, I'm sorry I can't sit,
but the excitement of just meeting you
face to face, Mr. Zander—sir, I аш
ready!” He gave me a strange, quizzical
look, and for a second I thought that
maybe 1 had gone too far.
sit down, boychik," he
said. like that once. No, no. don't
apologize. It's а good quality. Im not
making fun at you. Here, would you like
some butte I declined gracefully,
nd he went on.

"No? Well, then, perhaps you'd like to
tell me a lite something about yourself.

I nodded and

—your background, your schooling,
ur Г Why you want, why you
have this tremendous desire to be with

is here at Zander’s.”* I was glad he asked
4.

when I was a little

"When you were a little boy?" he
aterrupted, breaking the roll in two.

“Yes, sir, when 1 was a little boy. I re-
member I was just three years old. My
father brought me here one day to bu
a nightgown for my mother—a black
nightgown. Of course, the store wasn't as
but

from the first moment I set foot here on
the main Hoor, right next to the Budget
Bag Counter, honestly, sir, honestly . . .
a feeling came over me—a feeling of be-
longing—something warm, something I
had never felt before, or since, for that
Si" I concluded emotionally,
is the first memory 1 ever

Just then a door opened in back of me
and in walked a tall, thin young man
bout my age. I didn't see the resem-
blance he had to the man behind the
desk, but I did recognize the expensive
hops: cket he was wearing. I had
onc just like it in my doset in New
Haven. He approached the desk, golf
dubs rattling in the leather bag over his
shoulder. And then 1 recognized him.
Jefi Zander from Columbia. My room-
mate at camp for two months one sum-
mer. І turned my head toward the wall,
hoping І had changed enough in nine
years to remain anonymous. What bad
luck. Here I w. in, and in walks
Jett Zander.

"Fm taking off now, Dadd:

"Will 1 see you tomorrow?
der wanted to know.

“If this damn cold gets any worse, you
won't,” he said, smiling cheerily, and
then he was gone.

“My son,” he said finally.

“Oh, really?” I answered.

Mr. Zander blew nose in a
Kleenex, and when he Шу spoke
at tenderness.

You don't say?”

“A sheer black nightgown,” I repeat-
ed, feeling sure that I now had him i
like, my back pocket, “that sold for
twelve dollars and ninety-cight cents, sir,
Tt was the most beautiful thing 1 had
ever seen. It was a wedding-annive
gift—their tenth She cried
when she saw it—my mother cried for
three hours—and she never wore it ——
1 almost broke down.
he asked, his tired old eyes
wide in wonderment.

n her dresser drawer

Mr. Zan-

still unwrapped.”
"Twelve ninety-eight,” he clucked his
tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"Yes усу I remember the goods. 1 re
nber them.”

what che can

Is

except,

on, I'd like for you to report back

to Mr—Mr.—whats his name? That
Italian fellow?

De Costa," I helped him.

"Yeah, De Costa, that’s right. Report

k to him right away—would you do
that?” I grabbed the old man's hand and
shook it gratefully.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

“It's all right. Twelve ninety-cight—
nineteen forty-two; that was some beauti-

ful merchandise—beautiful,” and I swear
he had tcars in his eyes.
De Costa’s office agai
the wall read 4:
“Well, Wayne, you did it!” he said, his

face beaming good-naturedly.

The clock on

Б.

“Thanks, old man,” I said, like the
jerk chat I am.
“Three is the magic number, and

three you saw. Gelbe
You're on your way," he told m
“Thanks, and I won't forget the good
word you put in for me, De Costa.
That's the kind of guy I am," I said.
“Now, if you'll proceed to room nine-
oh-three for your special aptitude tests
with the others—you have about ten
minutes to rest up and have a Coke in
the lounge, if you'd like."
Is there a stronger word in the English
stunned"? Maybe “horti-
or " or “thunderstruck”?
“Aptitude tests, old man, I mean, sir?”
“Из a type of 1. Q. adaptability test
give to all final applicants. Don't
worry, I think you'll do fairly well,” he
chattered aw;
‘ou mean І don't have the job yet?"
That's right, dope. You don't have the

Zander and 1.

job yet.

"Not yet,” Bill De Costa said, smiling
brightly.

"Will I be the only one taking the

tests, sir?” I asked, tr
mental balance.

No, you'll have company,” he in-
formed me. “There'll be—let’s see, now.
There'll be thirty-four others" The
buzzer rang on his desk.

ould 1 ask a rather personal and
perhaps stupid question, sir?" I said.

“Yes, Wayne?"

“How many executive merchandising
trainees are you hiring, sir?”

“Well, that is rather top-secret, Wayne:
but I'd say, offhand, in the neighborhood
of five.” The buzzer rang again and |
could see he was getting impatient for
me to leave.

с?” 1 asked, my voice shaking.
“Five out of thirty 1 mumbled,
Thirty-four? Oh, no. There'll be more
taking the test tomorrow. We're inter-
viewing all week. Now, we'd better stop.
chatting. Your ten minutes are almost up
1 you'll have to hurry if you want that
Coke."

Did you say room nine-oh-threci
‘Nine-oh-three,” he repeated.

І sat across from the psycholo;
thin-faced, nervous man in his Jate
He looked yery tired as he shoved a
piece of paper at me with an ink blot on
it that obviously resembled а woman—
the full figure of a woma nude re-
pose, a side view.

“What does this look like to you?”

I thought about it for a second, care-
fully. "A lady's handbag?”

"And this?" He showed me another

g to recover my

n

‘Track shoes for playboys.

When you put on a pair
of Jiffies like the Squire, you
don't sit home all night and
stare at your feet.

As you get up off the sofa
to mix a few martinis, you'll
notice it's like walking on
marshmallows. Because
Jiffies have very, very, very
soft cushioning inside.

And they're also light. So
if you have to do a lot of
running around they won't
feel like combat boots.
They're even hand washable.

The prices are sensible
гоо: from $3 to $7. The
Squire here goes for only $4.

Jiffies are fast becoming
the only footwear for indoor
sports.

Notice we didn't call them
“Chickens

sittin

Leisure footwear for men

Trent
ОА)

"Oh, I

don't mind about that. 1 prefer

sacred cows to the ordinary kind.”

ink blot that also obviously resembled a

жопа, this time a rear view.
“The same handbag, only open U
ime.” He shook his head sadly, appar-

enuy haying come to some monumental

conclusion about me.

АП right. Now tell me, Goldman,

have you always [elt this unconscious
hostility toward. gentiles?"

"Doctor, I love gentiles. Some of my
best friends, including my father, are

gentiles. My name isn't Goldman.”

“Ob.” was all he could say. as he
searched through a fat wad of index
ards, looking for the right one.

"Wayne, doctor. Perry Wayn
found it finally,

“Ah, yes. Here it is" he said, turning
it over aud over again in his hands. “Tell
Wayne, how long have you felt this
hostility toward Jewish people’

The 1. Ө. test was a little more reason-
able. Harder, 1
the front row
much I had forgotten since college. All

round me sat other real college gradu-
ind, man, they were perspiring
there were a boat outside lea
ten minutes with

He

the

ry and was having a little
h physics when I looked up

trouble

gig and saw that the proctor had left the

room for a minute and there, not five
feet from me, spread out on his desk,
were the uncoded answers to pages 5, 6,
7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14 of the test
АШ 1 had to do was to lean forward
maybe a foot and a half and look. But I
didn’t. Instead, I remembered a story
Jeff Zander had told me one chilly night
in the Adirondacks, huddled around а
npfire—a story about his illustrious
her. It had happened only a few
hs before he had met me, when he
father to ask
him for a a his allowance. His fa-
ther had told him no; emphatically no.
No raise, and guess what? No more al-
lowance. From now on, you work in the
store after school, How much? Jeff had
asked him. 1 don't know, his father had
replied. We'll sce how much you're
h. Well, to make a long story short,
it was decided Jeff was worth nothing
So after three weeks of this, with no al-
ve for getting money for dates and
ketball games, except maybe selling
blood for five dollars a pint, Jeff de-
cided to tak At his station in La-
dies Overcoats he began underringing on
the register. If a lady bought a coat for
5, he'd give her change from an
open register and then ring up $10.98
after she had left. Dangerous? ОГ course;
but when you're Jeff Zander who's

moi

ti

going to tell your father you're stealing,
even if they catch you?

By the end of three months, Jeff had
52009 in dollar bills, half dollars, quar-
ters, etc., stashed on the top shelf of his
closet, And then it happened. As he tells
it, one night his father, who's like any
other normal father, counts his neckties
before he goes to sleep, discovers a neck-
tie missing. He storms into Jeff's room at
= in the morning and before Jeff
clear his head sufficiently [rom à guilty
dream he's having, the old man flings
open the closet. Within seconds, old man
Zander is noisily covered with thousands

of dollars in half dollars, quarters, dimes,
nickels and а confeuilike shower of
greenbacks.

“He just stood there looking at me in
the dark, a murderous expression on his
face, and 1 knew 1 was going to get it,
but good." Jeff shivered, remembering
the momen

“So what did he do?" I asked Jeff,
anxious:

"He didn't do nothi

" Jeff answered

blankly.
“What did he say?”
“He said, "What's the matter with

you? Ain't you never heard of banks?
And then he left."
“That's ай?”
happened next
"Nothing—except he raised my salary
from zero to fifteen thousind dollars 2
year, starting the next Monday.
plied, а funny exp
“Whew!” is all I remember sa
stared into the fire, thanking the dear
Lord that I was I and not Jeff Zander.
Т leaned forward to look at the answers
оп the proctors desk, hoping against
hope that Jeff Zander’s father had a

secret camera somewhere watching me.

nted to know. “What

It was Monday morning and 1 was
late. I swallowed the last of the hot bit-
ter coffee. burning my throat, and then
kissed Helen goodbye at the front door.

Half-past seven, | thought. I'll never
make it in half an hour. God. look at all
the people on the street. Where the hell
are they all going so early in the morn-

i Look at that tra
ting. Here 1 am.
in the middle of life with everybody else.
Just like the opening ol an old MGM
musical with Tony and Sally De Marco
dancing out in the middle of Sixth
Avenue—with no garbage
groes to confuse the issue.

Somebody must have gouen killed, I
told myself. Just look at the mob on the
subway platform. This isn’t goi
my suit any good. Oh, boy—oh, I'm
sorry, lady, 1 mean, sir,

By 59th Street, things were back to
normal again. I found myself a s and
began reading half a copy of the morn
ing edition of the Daily News that some-
body had left on the floor near my feet,

The subway ground to a screeching
halt. I carefully placed the Daily News
back on the floor, where 1 had found it,
and started out the closing door.

It was only а short walk from the sta-
Zanders, and 1 hurried across the
street against the light, dodging cars and
ignoring the subsequent horn blasts.

“Men,” Mr. De
were five of us sitting in his small office.
"Congratulations and welcome to thc
der fa This is as big a moment
for me as it is for you. In the ycars to
come, I hope you will look back upon
this first day here with the same
memories that I have.

“Now, before ] send you out into the
store, I'd like to tell you a little more
about our operati
First of all, you wil
compulsory management group hcalth,
sickness and accident insurance pol
‘Two dollars and fifty cents a week will
be deducted from your salary for this.
This brings us to our wonderful Execu
tive Employees’ Profit Sharing Plan. For
every five dollars a weck that we hold
back from your salary, Mr. Zander adds
another fifty cents, The money goes into
п investment fund, where it grows and
grows and grows, so that if you stay with
the company and live to be sixty-five, it's
all yours » P know sixty-five may
seem to you young men a long w:
from now, but tempus fugit—time flies.
You'll be old before you know what's
happened to you."

He stopped for a second and glanced
at his watch. I looked at mine. It
almost nine. The store opened at

"Now, about lunch," he began aga
“Mr. Zander would like all his young
executives to have th twenty-five:
minute lunch break with him in the
Executive Dining Room every day. He
feels that, in this m т, he will be able
to discuss immediately store problems
that will arise daily, without havi
disrupt your work. Eight dollars a week

be deducted foi
ther check with his pencil.

began. There

Now, in addition to lunch, there
will be the full-scale executive board
meetings с Tuesday a

nights. from seven to ten i

АП of you will be expected to attend
without

these twice-weekly
exception

down to the law three
genda. Compensation, :
ments and the washrooms.” Не
ilked to the door, looked out as if to
sce if anybody was Ii ,
returned to sit on the edge of 1

meetings,

desk.
nd I swear he had

sixty-five dollars

" My heart
and I saw a number of spots before
eyes. He was kidding? He had to
“After three months,” he continued,
“there is опе [our-dollarand-fifty-cent

Му есы
SQQ. ish

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Soak it up! Thirsty
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makes great wrappings
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a new kick called the
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217

PLAYBOY

AFTER SHAVE
[up]

Ed імауо

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raise, and after that, men, well, just let
me say this: The sky's the limit! The
washrooms. The executive washrooms
are on the seventh floor. Don't use them,
please. They are not constructed to han-
dle large crowds—and since we are com-
pletely filled up now, your names will be
placed on a waiting list, and as soon as
there is а vacancy, you will individually
receive your keys. Let me see—oh, yes
—the employees! washrooms arc on the
first, third and fifth floors. Don’t use
these, cither! As you may know, this
store is organized, and the employees are
all members of Local Six-fifty-seven, De-
partment Store Workers. They feck the
washrooms should be used solely for
union members; and even though Mr.
Zander denied it emphatically. when
they accused us last year of bugging the
third-floor washroom, we lost the case in
arbitration. There are, however, several
nice washrooms on the main floor that
are for customers. Please bear with us
and use these for the time being.

“OK,” he said, “that covers that. Final-
ly, we get to assignments. Burdick . . .

"Yes, sir.” the young man in the dark
flannel suit replied.

"You will be in Men's Shoes.”

“Thank you, sir." He stood up and ap-
proached the desk. De Costa reached
into a cardboard box and handed him a
large round yellow button, about the size
of a softball.

"Put this on, Burdick, and wcar it at
all times." The button read, in large
black letters:

PLEASE DON'T TALK TO ME—
YM IN TRAINING

Is that all, її?” Burdick wanted to
know, sliding the pin of the button into
hi

It is for now, Burdick. Report to Mr.
Higgins in Men's Shoes and he'll get you
started.”

“Thank you, sir.”

"Good luck." We all shook his hand
and he left, his face glowing, his jaw set.

"Wayne" I stood up and got my
buuon. “Wayne, you're going to be
in Budget Bags.” I smiled машу. “I
thought you'd like that, Wayne,” Mr.
De Costa said.

“It's what I was hoping for, sir,” I re-
plied. still slightly dazed from the salary
letdown, but always game.

"Main floor, Wayne. Mr. Ryan is wait-
ing."

Thank you, sir. So long, fellows”
“So long,” they all waved back.

It was 9:27 and there I was. All
dressed up in my new suit and poised for
action, Mr. Ryan invoduced me to the
eight girls in my department and then
disappeared. Probably to sce if his name
had come up on the washroom list yet, I
thought.

It was а very strange sensation, let me
tell you, standing there in a deserted

department store next to cight girls and
nine booths filled with hundreds of
$1.98, 5248, $3.19, $3.49, 53.98 and
$438 ladies’ handbags. I rocked back
and forth on my heels and lit a cigarette.
One of the girls saw me and shook her
head. Another girl pointed to a large
sign on the wall: No SMORING.

Oh, that was a nice touch, 1 told my-
self as I ground the cigarette out under
my shoe. Then Y looked, for the first
time, toward the front of the store, and
what I saw gave me a nervous jolt I still,
10 this day, haven't fully recovered from.
My God, it was awful!

Hundreds of them waiting to get in,
their faces pressed in grotesque distor-
tion up against the glass doors. I walked
coser to the huge front doors and smiled
out at them. They didn’t smile back. 1
held up my hand and wriggled my
fingers in a friendly greeting, Several of
them held up their hands and waved
their fists back at me in obvious hostility.

And then the gong sounded and I saw
two uniformed guards approach the
doors from either side of the store.
Thank God, I thought, they're going to
chase them away.

“Ready, Harry?" the first guard asked,
his lower lip trembling.

“Ready, Lou,” the second guard whis-
pered, kneeling down, his face white, a
key in his hand.

“Don't let them in!” I yelled, when I
realized what they were about 10 do: but
it was too late. My scream was lost in an
explosion of thundering feet, smashing,
hurtling bodies and calls of:

“Cmon, Lama, the clastic stockings
are this way!”

"Shut your mouth, Jeffrey, or I'll rcal-
ive you something to cry about!”
ick, Marge, stick it in your pocket
and nobody'll notice.” Stunned, I fought
my way back to my department.

“Mr. Wayne,” I heard a voice, “We're
over here." It was one of the girls in
Budget Bags, holding out an arm. I
reached for it, but just then an elderly
lady gave me a shove and I was knocked
off balance and into Men's Toiletries,

“Excuse me,” I said to a dark-haired
lad, also wearing a PLEASE DON'T TALK TO
ME—1'M IN TRAINING Dutton,

“You'll get used to it" he smiled,
showing a mouth full of missing teeth
and pointing to his button when some-
body wicd to ask him a question.

“ГИ be seeing you,” I said, making
headway back to my area.

The litle l7ycarold Puerto Rican
boy in the dirty overalls was trying to
tell me something.

“I can't talk to you,” I said, pointing
to the talisman on my lapel.

"Sure you can," he raised his voice.
m Joc Gomez, Mr. Wayne, your

ly

"Іри my hand out

and he hesitated for a beat before shak-
ing it.

"Its ten o'clock now
“Time to go down cellar

he began.
nd bring up

“All right,” I told Go ahead.

"You, too," he said. “I need help.” I
looked over at one of the girls and she
nodded.

“We need

two hundred Model А
twenty-twos, three hundred B-sixty-fives,
wdred. F-thirty-fours—"

а second, I'll get а penci

1
told her.

“Here, Mr. Wayne,” Joe said, tossing
me a black crayon.

“Thanks, Joc. Go ahead, dea

“My is Celia
Wayne. And Im not
frowned,

“I'm sorry," I apologized. “I'll be sure
to remember that Irom now on." 1
looked over at Joe and he was laughing,

but not at me, I later found out.

Five minutes later, we were in the cel-
lar loading hundreds of handbags into
huge cardboard containers on wheels.

“You'd better take off your jacket, Mr.
¢, before it gets ruined.”

Jo,” E said.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered.

“1 can manage," I told him. I removed
the jacket and hung it on a nail. Then
we went back to loadin

"Some job, huhz" Joe commented as
we laboriously pushed the big containers
toward the elevator.

Awful" I smiled, happy at least to
find someone who was sharing this terri-
ble experience.

“I hate it, too," he said, "I would've
quit long time ago, except money is so
good."

ood?” I laughed, as we rode up-
in the giant freight elevator. 1
could imagine, if I got $65 a weck, what
he got must have been meager.

“I can't complain," he began. "Ninety-
five а week ain't bad for forty hours.” 1
grabbed him by the collar of his shirt,
furious that anyone would want to “put
me on" at a moment like thi
оште a liar!" 1 yelled.
bout what?" he yelped,
himself. loose.
bout getting ninety-five dollars a
week," I charged. “L only get sixty-five,
and you're my assistant.” I felt med
of myself the moment 1 said it, so help
me, but Joe looked up at me and smiled.
warmly.

“Yeah, 1 know that, Mr. Wayne. But I
belong to the union,” and he showed me
his button—not а big yellow one, but a
small black one, pinned on his thin gray

let, “and you don't.”

"Could І join?” 1 asked him as the
elevator came to a slow halt.

We pushed the cartons across the
store and over to my department. It was
a long journey. There must be something
about merchandise that is being taken

tearing

somewhere, anywhere, that lends
certain attraction. Irs a kind of "Lei
grab it, girls, before they hide it on us
attitude,

It was hard to believe, but by the time
we reached the Budget Bag Center, we
had a following of over 20 fiercely com-
petitive. hysterical women—all trying to
purchase only those bags in the large
containers that we had brought up from

However. the minute we put the bags
nto the glass showcases and onto the
shelves of the wooden booths, these same
women seemed to lose interest and drifted
10 other parts of the store.

Seven wips I made with Joe Gomez
that morning to the cellar of Zander's
Seven times we loaded up on ladies
handbags and then fought our way back
to ош depar

Joe told me as
for our eighth. trip.
like when business is
гей то know. He showed

we started. down

"Last Christmas.” he recalled, paintt
ly, "E was carrying some A-twenty-twos
up from cellar when she saw me. I start
10 run for like to hide in men's room.
But it is no good. She catch me by water
founta

"She kicked you with her heel?
asked sympathetically.

"No, she bit me with her teeth," he
told me.

Lunchtime finally came. I left Joe Go.
тел in the cool cellar with his brown
paper bag and hurried to the men’s room
on the main floor. There I washed
my face and hands, then slipped. back

ito my white shirt and jacket, tied my
tie, shined my shoes with my handke
chiel and headed for the Executive
Dining Room. God, I was tired.

I staggered into the long, wood-
paneled dining room that was already
half filled, found myself a seat at the far
end of the 50-001 table and flopped
down, exhausted, my head spinning.

First you get your fruit cup, I remem-
bered a girl 1 once knew saying as she
described a certain restaurant. she had

1

219

220

liked in Darien. Then you get your soup.
Then you gct your bread and butter, or
your hot rolls.

At the head of the table, a million
miles away, it seemed, Mr. Zander was
sitting. Was he speaking? I couldn't tell
over the roar of the other voices and the
ady piping of the Muzak that filled
the air. 1 reached for my glass of water
and it slipped out of my hand, crashing
to the floor. Two waiters in white came
g over with mops—or were they
They should be nets, І thought.
Yes, they should. For me. That's right,
for me, Im «тазу. Crazy to be
sitting here like this. Then I suddenly
asked myself why I was sitting there like
at, and I began то tremble all over.

I dimly know that I got up and started
out of the dining room, 4
whispered, “Sit down, he’

I halfway heard him and ignored him
together. And then 1 was out on a fire
cxape, sweating in an icy breeze and
ast and deep.

Am I really here? You
Why? I got no answer

sw
breathing
Is this me? Yes,

are really here.
from myself.

“Why?!” I blared, banging on a
smoke-blackened railing until I split the
sides of my hands. “Why?! For what?!”

What's with you, Helen? I asked my-
self. And what's with you? I asked my-
elf. How did she do this to me? Why
did you let her?

“Because you wanted t0 be a man,” I
told myself dolefully. “Don't blame her
because you can't make the grade. The
lt, dear Brutus, is—"

Up your!" I yelled at myself.

For $65 а week this degradation! Sixty-
five minus deductions! "That's 55: па
then it commences with $8 for lunch and
55 for profit sharing and $2.50 for nose
blowing. What does that amount to?
What will I have to put in my pocket to
buy me a piece of the great American
dream? What exactly?! No con! Dollars
nd cents! Thirty-six dollars and fifty
cents! That was it! The grand, grimy,
gamy total!

Screw you, too, I stated to the noon-
day sun.

T walked past the empty desk of his
secretary and, without breaking stride,
Ilung open the door of the gigantic inner
office. Mr. Zander looked ир, asking
with his eyes what the hell I was doing

n his office. With his mouth, he said:
" 1 walked over to the desk

"Come i
and rested

nt to thank you,” I said. Mr.
ider raised his eyebrows
“You don't have to thank me,

he said.

"We have to take new men on. Nothing
personal,

he added.
1

just die

“For what?” Mr. Zander asked,
“I've learned a lot here," J told him.

“Yes,” Mr. Zander smiled. “бо soon?"

“It didn't take long,” 1 said. "Just in
these few hours, I have realized the im-
portance of something that I thought I
should forget about. Not that I blame
other people, but they thought I should
forget about it, too. If 1 had never be-
come an employee here, Мт. Zander, the
chances are that I might never have
figured out that to me it is the most
important thing in the world.

“What is?” Mr. Zander asked, and 1
told him.

"My father's money,” J said. Mr. Zan-
der's forehead crinkled and he squinted
up through startled eyes, as narrow as a
Chinaman's.

"How's that?” he asked
“My father," J told him, “could buy
you and sell you with one telephone call,
Mr. Zander.” Mr. Zander sat back and
folded his hands as if he thought 1 was
maybe going to make him an offer. “1 do
not need this job. Clap, R. O. T. C. and
this job are three of the many things I
want no part of. I'm here because I was
mixed up. I am not mixed up any longer.
I have plans now, Mr. Zander. Plans!"
Mr. Zander popped his eyes up at me,
maybe waiting to hear what my plans
might be.

“I plan,” I said, “to make the most of
life in as pleasant and comfortable and
expensive a way as I know how! I will be
deaf, dumb and blind to all people with
а purpose, and never again as long as I
live will I miss а chance to sleep late and
enjoy myself without breaking my ass." 1
felt my heart ri nd heard my voice

you, Mr. Zander, I thank you
for teaching me to take advantage of my
real opportunitics and to make the most
of the chance I've got to make sure that
never in will I be in a position to be
victimized by a person like yourself, A
person who makes a point of getting fifty
times his moncy's worth for every dime
he pays his employees—nonunionized,
of course, 1 mean.”

By now, I did feel kind of grateful to
the owner of Zanders, third largest de-
partment store in the world; and however
it sounded, I meant it the way 1 said it.

“My purpose in life from now on will
be to avoid, in every way, proving that 1
can make it on my own!” Mr. Zander sat
staring up at me, and then he deared his
throat with such a harsh harrumph that 1
stepped back a little, half expecting he
might attack me, He stood up with a
very somber look on hi and then, to
my surprise, stretched out his hand.

“OK,” he told mc. "Have a real nice
time.”

ace

1 have never been

md gouen
ош, but I have been in Zanders. Zander's
will do. For me there is no prison like
Zanders. Leavenworth, Dartmoor, Sing-

Sing. Bad cnough. But most of the
people who get put in them get out in
time, and all of them can hope. Only
those who go to Zander's never get out. It
is either Zander's or another Zander's, Or
a coal mine or an insurance office or a
steel mill or a canning factory. Zande
—all Zander's. The trapped can go from
one to another, up, down or sideways, but
they can never break out of the orbit.
Only the dead can beat the rap. Only the
dead and the шай...

Ата 1 gritted through
clenched teeth to myself, “I can get out.
1t proves not one damned thing that I
can escape, but thank God I can!”

I had a drink at a bar on Charle:
Street to wash the taste of the day out of
my mouth—and the thought of all the
tapped who had to stay and could never

c and were stuck in the pi
My God," J said to myself,
in heaven,"

forever.
"my God

When I opened the door of our apart-
ment, I knew I had to be careful. The

rage inside me was like a rage I'd never
known. Pure white and onedimensional.
I heard the water running in the

shower, and then she came out of the
bathroom and we stood face to face.

Her eyebrows went up.

Home early, aren't. you?"

“I got a reprieve from the governor,”
I said.

"What's that?
have a very
about slavery," I said. "Want to hear it?

NO

“It stinks," J told her.

“What the devil are you
Perry?

“It was a case of mistaken identity,
Helen. I thought T was somebody else." 1
said. “I thought I was a fellow named
John Doe who had to let himself be
beaten over the head daily from nine to
five.”

interesting theory

king about,

She wasn't following me, so I laid it
out simply. “I don’t ing at
Zanders.” I told her.

You'll get used to it,” she said.

“1 don't think so, Helen.”

“It may take a little time.

“It won't take any part of my time

“You've been drinking."

“ Liold her. “I've qu
ing at me.

t
You

hav
T turned i

out.
"Ihis—isn't possible.”

1 sat down in a chair and looked up at
her.
“Hel it was sixty-five dollars a

week. And there was no big office. Only

the cellar and a lot of two-dollar, forty-

cightcent handbags —"
“Look,” she began to plead,

“we'll

“Ij you think I'm going to compete with that, youre crazy!”

221

PLAYBOY

222

give back the house and the cars. It
doesn't matter. I love the furniture. So
we'll buy better stuff someday. Go back
—tell them you weren't feeling well—

we can manage, somehow.
“Helen,” and I tried to keep my voice
as steady as I could, under the circum-

stances, “I'm going to work for my
father.
At this announcement, she flung her-

self on the bed, hands in her hair, feet
kicking against the wall, as she built her-
self up into a real first-class tantrum, I
tricd one last time.

“Helen, I spend the whole day at Zan-
ders. Helen—stop chewing the bed
spread and beneath all the
. Zander's is the
her's business.
But there, Connecticut, since 1 was
lucky enough to be born my father's son,
I'll be my father's son, instead of a glo-
rified stock clerk who would, һе
should live through it, get to be in twen
ty years what I can be tomorrow morn-
ing!” She stopped tearing the sheets
into strips long enough to look dry-cyed
up at me and answer,

What about your promise? What

about the way I feel? What about your
own self-respect?"
“One at a time, please," I told her.
First, my promise. I'm breaking it. My
life is more important. Second, what
about the way you feel? I think you'd
rather have me love you the way I am
than hate you later for what I couldn't
bc. Third, what about my own self-
respect... 2"

“Well, what about it?" she taunted.
"If you don't make it on your own, you'll
never have any, that’s what!

“Really? What about Alexander the
Great? He didn't make it on his own. His
father was Philip of Macedon. Did that

listen.

phony tinsel and promise
same business as my f.

stop him?’
That’s when she threw the clock ra
at me.
"And Jellenon, and Tolstoy and

Freud, and don't forget Moses, who was
a prince of. Egypt’—I continued. as she
now stood there, feet planted firmly in
the rug, head down, beating her fists on
my chest—“all sons of rich men who,
because they did have money, had time
to watch and observe the inequalities of
and then eventually change the
world, cach in his own way.

“You dare 10 compare”
shrieked, now slamming about the
ment, breaking dishes—the cheap set.

“And Kennedy, and Shakespeare, and
Grace Kelly, not to forget your troops
was following her around now, laugh
slapping at her behind with a
woode 1 spoon, Whack!

She spun around suddenly and there
we were, eyeball to eyeball, on the 54th
parallel. Our moment of truth.

"m not Horatio Alger, Helen,” I said

tly.

за

qui

“Who are you, then?” she asked, and
she meant cold, scalpel clear. "Who
the hell are you:

* don't know," I told her, happy to be
telling someone who wasn't a doctor the
truth for the first time in six months. "I
thought maybe you'd know.” She just
stood there staring at me. It must have
been at J a minute, and then for the
ice I can remember, t
g wet ones, started rolling down onc
check.
оите a weak shiv”
mong other things,” I said.

"Oh, God . . ." her lower lip began
shaking. "I'm all screwed up, too, Perry.
The way I think and the way I [eel are
eight million miles apart," I took her by
the shoulders and pulled her close into
me.

Love counts for something, Helen
“Хо, not enough,” and her whole body
was shaking.
Стоп," I told her, but gently, “if we
hurry, maybe we cin beat the trafic
back home.”

Breakfast was delicious. Marie was
getting to be a more profident cook
every day. I reminded myself to raise
her salary ten dollars at the end of the
month.

Marie,” I said.
es, sit.” and her
h face was wreathed s.

No one," I said, "makes eggs Bene
dict quite like you do.” She blushed as if
1 had told her she looked like Gina Lollo-
brigida, and though Helen docs not like
me to spoil the servants, she nevertheless
could not help smiling at this display of
generosity

“I thank you, sir" Marie said, drop-
ping a litle curtsy. Things like this curt-
sy, and her way of saying “No, mum" and
“Very good, sir" cost me an extra $55 а
month, but what the hell!

She showed her gratitude by being at
the door, all smiles, when I came out of
the sunroom ready for the day ahead.
Though it was not her place, she held
my Inguahart Burberry for me, presented
me with my Borsalino homburg and the
monogrammed black thorn that T have

mple, honest Brit-

ng, sir,” she said, and
lovely in a capricious little
ам gown by Molyneux, trailed
and kissed me.

"he Mouton-Rorhschild blanc is run-
ning low,” she reminded me, and I
promised to have Hawthorne and. Bleak-
ley send in a case.

The moming air was a little chill and I
was dubious for a moment whether the
car was going to star But when I
switched the key and stroked the starter,
the motor sprang into that rich, harmo-
nious throbbing that I love. Not an os-
tentatious liule саг, I thought, but a
credit to Aston Martin, The tires rattled

ош

through the brown leaves of the drive-
way, and I reminded myself to speak to
Charles about them.

The railroad platform in Westport was
crowded with commuters: haggard, wor-
ried, harassed men, most of them my
own age, hastily dressed and half break-
fasted in their anxiety lest they miss the
8:45 for New York. It was not a merry
ight, but, to me, it was a small annoy-
ance. Very small. since the crowded
platform was across the tracks from me.

As the poor souls pushed and packed
their way into the coaches, my own
train, New Haven bound, rolled quietly
into place and Perkins, the sexagenarian
conductor who had come to know me,
said:

honest. toil.

lt occurred to me thar 1 should give
him something fitting for Christmas.
Then, into the coach and my own old
seat near the center, thankful that,
though I could make no use of all the
seats, they were all empty and available,

An easy stirring jolt and the train was
off through the varicolored stretches of
autumnal Connecticut, and I glanced at
my Lucian Piccard horologue and saw
with mild pleasure, that I would have
time to finish the last ten pages of The
Charterhouse of Parma.
that afternoon, Jeff Zander
I stood on the first tcc. of the Ri
Country Club in North Branford. The
was blue, the wii off the
Т borrowed a ball from my old
friend and selected a driver from one of
the Negro caddies.

"A hundred a hole?” Jeff asked, the
brim of his cap flapping in the breeze.

“Sure,” I told him, bending over to tee
the ball. "You know, it's funny, we're
victims of our own attitudes. I thought
I'd feel guilty about all of this. Instead, I
find myself with more time to read, to

listen to good music, to go to the theater.
I's marvelous. Isn't it? Or—did we sell
oug”

For Chris's sake, Perry!"

“Look, i ле seill young
enough, I mean, we could"

Per, beautiful Thursday
afternoon. sun, Smell that fresh
air, and th ll the others
nd what they're doing right now
“Ugh. But aren't. we dillerent, better,
Је Couldn't we have done—"
will you stop talking and just

we did, wi

it’s such

nk about a

“Just hit the ball, Perry, hit it nice and
straight right up the middle of the
fairway.

I did.

There’s а way to dress that’s current and sensible
at the same time. There’s a way to be sure that your suit
will look great long after you’ve bought it.

There’s a way to dress luxuriously, yet pay from a
remarkably moderate $85 for a suit.

It’s the Worsted-Tex way.

Our shaped Natural Shoulder model, L
example, with deep side vents and 4
flapped pockets.

Once you wear a suit like
this Natural Shoulder, you'll
want sportcoats, slacks and
outercoats made the W
same special way.

PLAYBOY

224

THE SECRET MISSION (continued pom page 114)

haggard West Pointer who drank a lot,
called me into his steamy, pungent
pyramidal tent. The man we always
privately referred to with clenched
and narrowed eyes as “Old Horses Ass”
opened with his usual laconic: “At ease,
soldier.

1 slumped deeper into my fetid fa-
tigues, which had not seen the laundry
for six weeks and which were now be-
ginning to grow peat moss in the arm-
pits, and waited for thc usual listless
chewing-out that always occurred in this
hovel, Casually, deliberately, he shuffled
through a pile of old Argosy maj
that he kept on his desk at all times. I

ling down my Чорчад chain, dribbling
ny blood type and my ostensible
ion. to hang for a moment and Un
inue down my stomach to further
у web belt and the tops of my СІ
shorts. In the corner of the tent, our
hated duty sergeant, Sharkey, sucked nois-
ly at his noto hollow tooth, enjoy-
ing то the fullest his favorite scene—a GI
about to receive 39 lashes at the mast-
head. H never occurred to me to ask
myself what I had done wrong this time,
since, in old Company K, that was an
academic question. It could have been
any of a number of things—the look on
my face, for instance, an indiscreet remark
п the latrine about the quality of the
powdered cggs, or just general principles.
The captain hummed tunclesly to
himself as he prepared to deliver his
bombshell. His hunming blended nicely
with the oppressively familiar sound of
our humble little Army outpost buried
deep in the Eyerglades—the incessant
140-срѕ note of a sweep radar in the
distance, the low thunder of our earth-
shaking Leroi diesel generator, the
countless cruising mosquitoes and the
muffled, drowsy cursing of men at w
beleaguered, — boredom-drenched,
atrashed, navel-contemplating radar
ion on the edge of the great swamp

over

made Mr. Roberts’ U.S.S. Reluctant,
which sailed between the islands of
Ennui and Monotony, with occasional

side trips to Apath
Island on July fourth,

Old Horses Ass rarely spoke to oi
nary mortals, and when he did. he пем
sed his voice—he just smiled a th
nt smile, That what made him
rsome to the simple peasants
ny K—his noninvolvement. It
was rumored that he didn’t even sweat,

Captain Crawford seemed to know
something that none of us could even
guess at. And he wasn't tel

“Corporal,” he asked me quietly, “who
do you know at headquarters?

^Uh . . . excuse me, sir?"

Immediately, I was alert. This w
ordinary asschewing session. Something
had hit the fan big.

seem like Coney

“Pay attention to me when I talk.”
ai
“I said. "Who do you know at

headquarters?
Headquarters, s

Frantically my mind groped through
its adolescent fog, trying to perceive the
outlines of the disaster that was about to
befall me. The sarcastic overtone of hi:
question bode no good.

That's right, Corporal—headquar-
ters.

My idea of headquarters was where I
was standing right now. I knew in a
vague way that there were bigger men
than Captain Crawford, that there were
people somewhere, someplace, called
"generals"; but that was a world far be-
yond the yine-strangled, sandy universe
of Company К. a world bounded on the
north by the supply shed, on the south
by the PT field, on the west by the
jungle and on the east by the swamp.
“Well, sir, 1... you see, si
He cut. voice eve
Torps headqu
Sergeant SI

h rumbled
digested the only steak
seen i company for three months or
more. Sergeants in remote Army posts

e high off the hog. Quite often, they
ате the hog.

Corps headquarters, I thought—where
the hell is that? I remembered a chart
that we had to memorize in an Army
organization class cons ago in basic
training. At the top was a big block
with stars in it, beled CORPS HEAD-
quarters. Company К was so far down
the hierarchy that they would have had
to make the chart 200 feet long to fit us
on it.

Captain, sir," I answered finally, "I
don't know exactly what you mean, sir.

He snorted, “РШ bet. I suppose the
good fairies cut these orders because you
put a tooth under your pillow and made

me a sheaf of mimeo-
graphed orders, stapled together, bear-
ing the heading HEADQUARTERS, CORPS
coMMANDER—directing that the below-
named Cpl, Sig. С. U.S.A., shall be as-
signed to detached special duty with the
Air Corps. Immediately. The captain
lolled back in his swivel chair, peering
through his gin and tonic (which had
been cleverly disguised to look like regu-
lation Army Kool-Aid) at the shaft of
sunlight that lanced through the ventilat-
ing hole at the top of the tent.
‘Congratulations, Corporal. I don't
know who the hell you know at
Corps, but wher you find the time, I
would appreciate it if you'd put in a
good word for me.”

Sergeant Sharkey cut in: “Your trans-
portation is in front of the dayroom, sol-
dier. Get your ass in gear and turn your

Form 32 in to the supply sergeant before
you leave, you hear?”

1 reeled out into the sun, rocked to the
core. Good God! I was unworthy of such
a stroke. To this day, I have no idea how
or why my пате came up. It goes with-
out saying that I knew no one at Corps. 1
swam through the brilliant sunlight and
the blazing heat in a kind of delirious
fog. My tent was empty save for the
long, skinny form of Pfc. Gasser, who lay
drugged in half sleep under his mosquito
bar, He had been on duty at the genera-
tor all night and now lay in suspended
animation, bathed in the eternal sweat
we lived with. 1 emptied my footlocker
into my Bbag, working swiftly, fearful
lest they change their mind. My canteen
cup got jammed sideways on the top of
the canteen, Muttering “Son of a bite
1 tried to free it by banging it on the
edge of the bunk. bolt upright
in bed, saluting м

“Yessir!”

“Sorry I woke you up.

He peered at me through the hazy
yellow netting.

“Where the hell you going?”

“I've been transferred to the Air
Corps”

He sat in the center of his sogey sick.
wearing rumpled OD-colored GI shoris
and a pound of sulfa salve smeared over
his giant heat rash, which cascaded richly
down over his shoulders, back and chest.
He leaned forward, staring at me, his
sleep-fogged eyes trying to Гос.

“Transferred to what?’

“To the Air Corps. I'm getting out of
here. I got orders.

1 slung the barracks bag carefully up
over my shoulder, so as not to wrinkle
the crisp, razorsl suntans I had
pulled on. It м time I had
been out of fatigues—the same fatigues
—in over a month. Gasser sank back on
lis bed of pain and lay for a moment,
and finally muttered:

"For Chrissake, the Air Corps. "There's
һоре for us all.

And I was gone. The transportation
Sergeant Sharkey had referred to was
the tired old command car—a weapons
carrier—that constituted one third of our
motor pool. Company K also had a jeep
with a busted axle that had been hall-

buried in a sand dune for over six
months—plus a giant halftrack that
no one knew how to drive and for which

we had no conceivable use. All three ve-
hicles, when they ran, burned more oil
than gasoline and looked so battleworn
that Captain Crawford was ashamed to.
let any of us take them into the nearest
town, even on business. Obviously, some-
one did not consider Company K a unit
in the rcal Army and had assigned to us
equipment and weapons that had been
discarded by actual soldiers.

Elkins, one of our two drivers,
qouched like a toad behind his worn
black steering wheel as we roared

together over barely discernible back-
country roads through the steaming Ever-
glades. Tt was impossible to talk in ou
command car, which not only had the
usual loudness of Army vehicles but
was so old and ташу that any kind
of comm ication between.
had to be carried on
guage. Elkins drove like most GI d
flat-out, eyes slitted, dribbling a constant
stream of profanity into the general
uproar. Occasionally he used his own
inimitable sign language on drivers he
forced into ditches or through bridge
railings—usually a gesture known at the
time as “Mussolini’s salute,” although it
undoubtedly predated his regime, Be-
hind us was a wake of outraged civilians
and dead chickens. We were on our way
to Drew Field.

Elkins was in a particularly sullen
mood—even for him, He always was
when he was forced to drive the occa-
sional escapee from Company К to the
outside world. He had told me one night
in our squalid little dayroom, with its
grimy ping-pong table and unrefrigerat-
ed Coke machine, that he had joined the
Army in an ill-considered fit of patriot-
ism after seeing a Preston Foster movie
bout the Air Cadets. He envisioned
himself a second lieutenant, shoulders
agicam with shiny Air Corps wings and

ig into his Р-51 to take on the
singlehanded, machine guns
h. Instead, like the rest of
id found himself squeezed
ntricate maze of Army clas
sification and into the very bottom of the
bancl— Company К. He blamed Preston
Foster personally and vowed that if he
сусг ran о him, he would bust the
son of a bitch in the mouth. I sometimes
wonder if he ever got his chance. In any
case, he drove his command as
though it were a P-51 and any hapless
living body that crossed his path were a
member of the Luftwaffe. He had also,
of late, taken to wearing his garrison cap
in the famous Air Corps crush; and if he
had been able to get away with it, would
leather flying
nd boots from somewhere. To-
nd 1 rammed through the
eddying hea new post, cach
wrapped in I sies.

My orders read to report to the opera-
tions officer for a special assignment to
begin no later than 1300 that very after-
noon. Drew Field was a long way from
our little jungle outpost where Company
K, theoretically at least, kept its 24-hour
vigil арай king enemy planes and
invading Panzers. As 1 bounced and jig-
gled next to Elkins, a great sense of
се and happiness grew, hour by hoi
within me. At last 1 was free. This was it
—the real thing. Now my months of in-
5 ing in airborne radar would
ay off. I felt my arm heavy with golden
stripes, since the Air Corps was notorious
for its generosity in the rank department.

through the

no doubt have scrounged.
jacket

The entire Signal

Corps. on the other
hand, had by actual count made 17
buck sergeants, 42 corporals and 38
Pics. in the preceding year. Our со
pany had not seen a new stripe for over
„ and that came only when
Elkins had publicly threatened suicide if
he didn't get one. The night after Elkins
made Pfc., an all-night party was thrown
by the enlisted men—which meant all
of us except Captain Crawford and hi
henchman, Lieutenant Cherry, who,
anything, was сусп more melancholy
than Crawford. After all, Crawford was
a captain, while Cherry had been in the
Regular Army 24 years—the cavalry,
по less—and would never even in his
wildest nightmares have conceived of
such an outfit as Company К of the
Signal Air Warning System, let alone
dreamed that he'd wind up in it. Cherry
dreamed of cavalry charges and cap-
tain’s ba Crawford mooned over vi-
sions of officers’ clubs in London and
conferences with General Eisenhow
while all we had to hope for was the day
we could get cold beer again and the
Coke machine would be repaired.

The journey was suddenly over. Elkins
helped me unload my bags at the main
gate of Drew Field. Overhead, a high
formation of B24s climbed into the
sun. Elkins squinted upward for a long
moment, hawked juicily and spat on the
hubcip of his command car.

"You lucky son of a bitch," he mut-
tered, climbed behind the wheel and
clattered off.

Five minutes later, I struggled into the
operations olfice and handed my papers

to a brighteyed, pearly-toothed Air Corps
first. li rimless glasses.
I noted the beautifully sculpted propeller
and wings that he wore on his superbly
fitting officer-pink shirt. His desk was
one of dozens. all manned by as natty a
crowd of military personnel as I had
ever seen in all my long, toiling journey
through rhe Army. Out of the corner
of my eve, as the lieutenant read thc
mimcographed sheets, I noted that there
wasn't a rank to be seen lower than stall
sergeant. Everywhere, technical ser
Beans, master sergeants, not to mention
Captains, majors and even a sprinkling:
of colonels, joked and chatted, th
uniform shirts skintight, their ра
огей with fastidious care and style.
stood before the desk in my baggy Sig-
nal Corps sack suit, suddenly conscious
of the great semicircles of perspirai
spreading down from armpits, my
sunburned nose softly raining flakes of
dried shin, my lumpy, friendly old
shoes spreading out over half the floor,
my green corporal stripes frayed and
curling at the edges. I stood at attention,
waiting to be assigned to my new squad-
ron, my heat rash playing a slow flame
over my shoulder blades, The licutenant
hummed cheerfully, consulted a couple
of sheets of paper, spoke briefly

шу,

to a

phone and finally said to me:
“So you're the guy from the Signal
Corps.”
“Yessir.”

"You're down for that damn A-26,
nental rock, right?

rm bell went off deep inside

“I say, chaps! A Ronald Reagan movie!"

225

PLAYBOY

226 doddering radar equipment g

my innermost being, where we keep our
basic animal instincts. I did not answer,
since he was not asking a question but
stating a fact.

"OK, Corporal, take this to supply.
1f you need anything else, tell ‘em to call
me. You might as well leave your bag
with the sergeant at the desk

“Yessir.”

“Step on it. Operations says the ship
will be on the line in a couple of

out on the 695,

He had caught me off guard
"The 695. You're checked out on it,
>
esir!”
he 695 was, at the time, a highly clas-
sified altimeter whose complete proper
name was the SCR 695. I had, along
with a few others in the company, been
given a course in theory, installation and
maintenance of the 695, had been sworn
to secrecy and then, as is so often the case
n the Army, had never scen nor heard of

it again.
A jeep drove me along a wide con-
acte apron before a long row of gleam-

ing h We cruised in and out,
threading through B-17s, B-24s, B-26s
and an oceasional stray fighter. At last!
At long last! The real thing! We pulled
front of a long, low shed marked
аал. raent, My driver, а
technical sergeant, chewed steadily on a
toothpick while we waited for the supply
corporal to pass over the counter the
gear on my requisition sheet.

I hefted а real Air Corps flight suit of
the coverall type, studded with zippered
pockets, serial numbers, little rings, slots,
Шірмог clips, leather tabs, dangling
clectrodes—and topped with а great,
round, black furry collar.

"What size head you
corporal asked,

“Seven and a quarter.”

He fished in а bin. "Here, Try this.
Just once 1 wish some bastard would
six and an eighth. I got five hundred of
them that ain't. never been wore.”

.I held in my hands a genuine
light helmet, complete with
сот earphones, phone jacks, llcece
ig, buckles, snaps—the works. He
shoved. nificent pair of green gog-
gles across the counter to me and started
to pile test equipment on the floor: a
bright, shiny Voltohmist, а magnificent
signal generator that the boys in Com-
pany K would have given three years of
their life to own; and a set of spanking
new bluesteel work tools—pliers, wire
strippers, test prods—all fitted
а lovely cowhide case, I thought bı
the sad collection of raggi
screwdrivers and lumpy, taped
pliers that Company K used to keep our
ing. AL

got" te

ready all that poverty, that sweaty grub-
bing, was fading from my memory.
Gasser should see me now! Here was
technological wealth beyond imagining.

Now dressed in my flight suit, helmet,
goggles and M-2, my fect sloshing around
n a pair of zippered flying boots, 1 was
driven far out along the row of parked
aircraft. The air was filled with the sound
of roaring motors, planes taxiing, taking
ой, landing, droning overhead. E was part
of it all, the whole gaudy circus. Finally

we drew up before one of the hangars

The technical sergeant sail
“This is communications service hang-
- You better check with them."

He wheeled his jeep around and left.
Inside, a captain sat at а desk amid an
immense squadron of silent aircraft. GIs

crawled over
ma

them, lugging still more
gnificent test equipment.

Oh, yeah, you're the guy they sent
down to test the 695 in that damn low-
level attack. ship, right?”

“J gues

“What?

“Yessir!

“You checked out on the 717?

Now he was really in my element,
The 717, also highly confidential at the
time, was a sweep-and-search radar de-
signed for special uses in aircraft, 1 had.
at опе time in my checkered career
even taught a course on its various
idiosyncrasics.

“Yes, sir! The 717 A or B, sir?”

"How the hell should 7 know?”

I could see he was impressed. Му
confidence was growing like some speck-
led monster. I hoped he would ask me
to fly the planc.

“OK, Jack, she'll be out on the line
in a couple of minutes. Would you mind
checking the sweep on the 7172"

“No, sir, wouldn't mind at all, sir.”
The boys will give you the radar
checkpoints. Any questions?

SOS Ree

I swaggered out into the sunlight and
toward the ready line. Three P-38s
skimmed overhead tight: wingtip-
to-wingtip format king asa single
ship and climbing off into the blue.
Down the line, 1 saw taxiing toward me
an A-26, which I vaguely recognized from
the endless hours of aircraft-identification

drill that Company К had drowsed
through. Closer and closer she rolled,

her twin props chopping the air, her
tires, broad and Па, rumbling on the
concrete, her high, sweeping rudder
xuding arrogance and power. The A-26
маз a beautiful ship, as well as some-
what notorious, being well known for its
eccentric characteristics. It was а low-
level attack bomber, of function
ign, and this particular A26
noble example of the breed.
red lener B, at 1
gleamed on her rudder. The white Air
Corps bar and star was freshly painted.
Across her nose, indescent. yellow,

blood-
t four feet high,

was her
The
sun reflected
exiglass of her greenhouse.

The A26 flew, under norm
tions, with a crew of three: pilot.
navigator-bombardier and tail gunner.
The tail gunner sat directly behind the

y leners,

off the tinted pl

pilot in an incredibly cramped little
niche, facing the rear. Ahead of the pilot
the navigator-bombardier maintained his

tiny office. He was supposed 10 crawl
down a narrow passage into the plexi-
glass nose to sight and drop bombs.

She slowly wheeled around, her tail
wheel creaking, her props kicking up
bits of paper and a thin cloud of dust.
Her engines blipped twice, making the
ground around me tremble, and then
silence. A head popped out of the pilot's
compartment, paused a moment, and
then a master sergeant wearing green
coveralls swung down to the ground

“You the 695 guy?" he asked, his
baseball cap slanting up to the sun

“Yeah.”

“OK. See you when you get dow

He ambled off toward the service
hangar. 1 was alone; that is, except for
the A-26, which loomed over me, radiat-
ing heat and malevolence. It was the first
time I had ever been this dose to a real
live warplane. Up to this point, as a
qualified airborneradar technician, all
my work had been in the classroom.

Trying to appear as casual as 1 could,
1 glanced around. There was no one else
on the horizon. Gingerly, I crawled up
the sleek, camouflaged side of the oval
fuselage and peered down into the re
seat. Ordinarily, this was where the tail
gunner plied his thankless trade. forever
looking backward, forever watching for
shadowy pursuers. On how-
ever, the guns had been removed and the
gunncrs position had been jammed
chock full of radar equipment. The
narrow black-leather bucket seat sur-
rounded by the familiar scopes and
range controls, the intercom equipment
and other associated clectronic gear
looked exactly like the photographs and
skeleton diagrams І had pored over in
my pre-Company K days, when my
hopes were still high and my Service
record clean. It was beautiful, in an ugly
som of way, that little hellhole tightly
packed with a quarter of a million dol-
s or more of highly classified equip-
ment, worth today on the surplus market
about $17. The canopy, one side of
which was now open, had heen blacked
out, which meant that in flight, the rad.
as in total darkness, the
better to sec the flickering green images
on the glowing cathode-ray tubes. It was
obviously a one-of-a-kind plane. Some
distant expert in the War Department
had decided to try radar in an А.

By now, of course, I was practically
out of my head with excitement. There
s only one thing wrong: I didn't have

w

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PLAYBOY

228

the slightest idea what the hell I was sup-
posed to do. One of the great comforts of
Anny life is that, in general, you are not
the only one who doesn't know what
you're supposed to do. I had been in the
Army long enough to know that cardinal
mle, On one occasion. during a short
say at а dusty, downattheheels litle
Amy camp somewhere in а forgouen

t of the Ozarks, I had эсси a highly
1 little drama unfold. A short,
squat GL wearing a pair of faded, greasy
started. yelling loudly one
у in the company street. Within ten
seconds, he had assembled а work detail

ues had

of other Gls, all wearing identical crud-
dy, moldy coveralls. He put them into a
column of twos, right-faced them and

marched the artly off down the road
toward the motor pool | could hear
them drilling in the churned-up mud left
racks for the better
part of an hour. He barked and bellowed
id chewed plenty of asses. 1 just missed
this merry litte band, because at the
time, I was lamine orderly and wa
acking rolls of toilet paper for the next
wasion. A couple of days later, I ran
to this sume guy at the PX, wearing his
suntans. He had по stripes whatsoever. I
remember our conversation. well, As we
both ate our Milky-Way bars, the first
palatable food either of us had seen in
well over a week, I asked

“Hey, mae, when'd they bust you?"

"What do you mean, bus m
Erit

һе

“Well. how come I saw you chewin’
out those guys from the second platoo
the other di

ST was just р

Practicing? Practicing
As chewing. I figure I may make
corporal someda it 10 be read:

th.
пу-

Tt was then T realized a great tr
Come on strong and you can go
where in the Army—or out of it.

I was beginning to sweat a little in my
hot flying su are not made for
standing still, especially under а baking
. I clung to the side of that
magni A26 and drank in its clu-
sive, once-inhaled, never-forgotten aro-
e never read anywhere, in all
ion stories I've come across, a
description of how а first-line, ready-for
ncs combat planc smells—a highh
complex, extremely subtle mingling of

thousand viscosities of lubricants, rare
fied high-octane gasoline, dull camouflage
paint, the + suggestion of violence

from highly por
explosives (she carried a 2
well as enough machine guns to equip
half the Mafia), the distinaive perfume
of complex high-voltage wiring insula-
tion, and a hundred other scents too
esoteric to name, Her cockpit, deep and
narrow, smelled of leather, cotton web-

at (races of burned high
20mm cannon,

bing. aluminum buckles and hard rubber

I clung to the side of the plane, her
engine pod radiating shimmering heat
she cooled. A P47 Thunder-
bolt taxied by, making the ground shake,
her slip stream vibrating the A-26's w
slightly. I could see the med
perched high in the Thunderbolt’s cock-
pit, chomping on a cigar, his Air Corps
baseball cap tilted то the sky. He rolled
h that insolent, omtopobit a
mechanic, everywhere always 1
My God, І though. ише now,

any mi

yne Morri: got to show up. I
could not believe my incredible good
luck. Just a few short hours ago, I lay

slowly rocking at anchor n gath-
ering barnacles, roning away with good
old sad Company K—and now this! I
ound in that casual,
devil-may-care way that I had seen Dana
Andrews execute so many times, 1
а birdman, The Air Corps song, which
lor so many months we of the Signal
Corps had sung sardonically—" OI wc
go, d

пу bra

swung down to the g

to the wild blue yonder س‎
HOW was my song.

I gathered up my tes
began to do what T had |
exceedingly well in the Army: wat
quater of an hour passed as І stood i
the shade of that sinister A-26. Furtive-
Jy, from time to time, І parted her hot,
rounded side, right in the middle of her
big white м izing that in a few
s about to embark on a
that I would nev
n. that post
is not capable.

equipment and
ned то do so

A

adventu

forget.
simple. plodding creature.

It is good that

of forceeing the futu
Out of the far haze, frc
of base headquarters, | could see a jeep
tæring down the line: and I swear, for an
instant or two, E thought 1 saw fluttering
foxtails flying from its antenna. The
sound of raucous laughter rose above the
below of the jeep's engine and rode
high over the undercurrent of aircraft.
thunder. I was about to meet The Boy:
The jeep must have been edging up
toward 90 when it slewed around the
tail section and, with a squeal of brakes,
lurched to a halt. Many times I had seen
that same turn performed by my peers
—callow, pimply-faced youths wheeling
their leaded and chopped-off Ford rods
in the gravel parking lot next to Hank’:

m the direction

s
Big Boy Diner, the object being to throw
as much gravel up against the side of the
takeout counter as you could without
Hank breaking your neck. The driver
and his passenger wrestled briefly in th
front scat. of the jeep.

Charlie. Gee whiz. Gimme
the key. It's my umn to drive when we
get back."

Cut it out, Ralphie! For Chrissake,

you know I'm ticklish!” Whooping and

giggling, they rolled out onto the run
way, the one named Ralphi
lieutenant, kicking Charlie, a captain.

in the ass as they hit the ground. Charlie

fcinted to his right and threw a football
block at Ralphie. I could not believe the
tableau that was unfolding before my
Charlie was the first 13-year-old
I had ever seen, Ralphie
obviously just 12. Their
ach-fuzzed faces had never sen a razor.
1, who had just turned. 17, for the first
ume in my life felt old and grizzled.
Officers had always been grownups to me
—remote, official, like fathers от bosses:
like William Holden or Henry Fonda.

Charlie, his crushed сар perched on
the back of his head, noticed me for the
fist time.

“You're the guy from the Signal Corps

eyes.

that’s gonna test the 695.” He giggled.
“Yessir.”
"OK, Ralphie, get your ass in gear."
Ralphie, who was busy unwrapp

a new wad of shockingpink Flcers
bubble gum, siid:
"Hold ver water, for Chyissake”

Charlie, the pilot, looking all of 115
pounds in his flying suit, lurched upward

nto his cockpit, flinging behind him.

"Lets go. mac.”

1 crawled up the side of the A26 and
toppled down into my dark, fragrant
cave. Ralphie’s head appeared above
me. “Your intercom plug is down there
below the relay bank.”

I nodded пашу.

with an uneasy
ng that from here on in it was in the
p of the gods. Never in my life had I
wn in a real airplane; а
gnawing aches of fear began to wor
their way up as D buck-
Jed the chin strap on my helmet and

fe
1

plugged in my intercom phones.
Ralphie's head reappeared.

“You OK?”

His adolescent, hot-rodder face leered
down at me, his huge wad of bubble eum
pulling out his cheek, like some de-
mented chipmunk. He was the navigator-
ardicr. I nodded.
sten your shoulde

straps and pull

appeared. Not once
п 4000 accredited. hours of airplane-
movie watching had I ever seen а pair
of warbirds like Charlie and Ralphie.
sank deeper into the bucket scat. Sud-
denly my earphones crackled and 1 could
hear Charlie:

"Hey, smartass,

are you ready to

roll?

thinking, 1 muttered: “Yes

silence and
ıtercom:

was a moment of
ie came onto the

Who the hell was thai?”

Then — Ralphie's
through:

"prs that guy
Let's go, dad.

A high whine of motors and a deep
rumble filled my cockpit. THUNK. The
canopy closed and I was in absolute,
total complete, utter, Stygian darkness.
I could hear Charlie muttering some-

voice — crackled

from the Si;

Corps.

thing to himself on the intercom.
Ralphie, up ahcad, was singing the
second chorus of Mairzy Doats. Finally
Charlie said, to no one in particular:
"Well, here goes nothin."

Like all human beings, I have that an-
cient fear of the darkness that we in-
herited from our cave dwelling ancestors.
I cowered in the blackness as the star-
board engine turned over, first slowly,
nd then boomed out strong and clear
‘Then the other engine joined in. The
thunder in my tiny, stifling closet was
deafening. Charlie, 1 could hear, was
conversing laconically with the control
tower. My panic had risen to such a
height that I couldn't quite make out
what they were saying. Then, over the
din, I heard Ralphie's squeaky voice:

“Hey, Corporal, ya got yer gear оп

Without thinking, I blurted, “It’s dark
in here!”

“What the hell do you expect?” stid
Ralphie. “Turn on your glow light.

Glow light, I thought. If I ask him
where the glow light is, FII really be in

the soup. Drawing on my vast Army
experience in fakery, 1 said:
“Tve been working on 61s lately,

Lieutenant, Haven't been in 26s. Where
is ie"

I hoped the 61
dar. Out of the thunder, Charlie's voice
came

“Widows, wow! Holy smokes! I'd like

had some kind of ra-

at mc:

to throw one of them around once!”

I sensed that my stock had gone up a
notch or two. Ralphie said:

"It's on the lower right corner of the
panel.”

I fumbled in the darkness and finally
felt the switch. A tiny light glowed on,
‘There were the panels of the equipment
that I knew, theoretically, at least. I
threw the switches; ruby and green bull's-
eyes glowed into life; my scopes slowly
warmed to a pale green. The ship rocked
from side to side, thrumming loudly as
we trundled out along the runway. А
jumble of talk from the control tower,
static and a steady, rhythmic clacking
came through my earphones, filling my
head as I groped at the sweep and inten-
sity conuols, My mind was almost a total
blank. The clacking continued and th
Charlic, from out of the darkness, s

“What the hell are you doing up
there, Ralphie?”

Ralphi
mean?”

I can't hı
gum chewing."

Ralphie had apparently been chewing
his bubble gum into his microphone. He
muttered a muffled obscenity as ме
rolled on. Suddenly the ship stopped,
and for a long moment, Charlie revved
up cach engine in turn. At length, he
chirped:

answered: “What

do you

r anything over that lousy

“This son of a bitch is leakin' oil some-
where.”

Ralphie barked back:

“Come on, you bastard. No alibis. Let's
get this over with.”

Oh, my God, 1 thought. Am J in the
grip of impostors? Are these two snot-
nosed kids who dressed themselves up as
officers and are now stealing a plane?
No, they can't be. Maybe I'm asleep. In
a couple of minutes, Gasser will wake me
up and ГЇЇ go down to the mess hall for
my powdered eggs and Spam. Tonight
I'll beat Edwards at ping-pong.

But no. On either side of me, the two
engines boomed to an insane pitch. All
around me, things creaked, screamed,
whistled, fluttered. Instinctively, my hands
clutched the metal tubing of my seat
in an iron grip. It was really happening.

We began to move—faster and faster.

with a last giant roar and an un-
vable sinking sensation that plunged
all the way down to the very bottom of
my gut, the A-26 soared into the air.
Old bits of hall-lorgoten. Sunday-school
prayers, calendar mottos, God knows
what, welled up inside of me, Then came
Charlies voice:

"How do you like that, baby?"

Ralphie, the funny one, shot back:
"Pretty lucky.

I kept my mouth shut, trying to re
member whether or not ] had filled
out my GI insurance form correctly,

Rallye

! or

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229

PLAYBOY

wondering briefly what my mother would
do with the ten grand and how they would
word the telegram, Maybe:

WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT
YOUR SON WAS KIDNAPED BY TWO
ADOLESCENTS POSING AS AIR-CORPS
OFFICERS STOP THESE THINGS HAPPEN
STOP=WAR DEPARTMENT

Clinging to the instrument panel, my
backbone pressed deep into the leather
bucket seat, the very fillings of my teeth
jiggling frantically amid the insane, cy-
clonic noise in the cockpit, L fought back
a violent attack of паш;

“Over she goes!” Charl
my ear.

My cockpit іне ngs snapped and
groaned all around me. We were doing
some kind of Immelmann or somet!

“Whoops, my dear!" Ralphie shrieked

ito the intercom in a falsetto voice. It
was as if I were trapped in a giant War-
yr blender. I felt the tail dip.

Watch this Ralphie, baby!
I grabbed the control panel
braced myself to see what "this
ng to be.

RRRRRRAAAAAHHHHHWWWW-
WWIVARRRRRRRRR!

My safety belt cut deep into my ribs
and shoulders. My head hung forward
like a large overripe melon. I felt my
eyeballs bulging. From the floor of the
cockpit, а cloud of cigarette butts, gum
wrappers and Christ knows what else
drifted upward and swirled around my
goggles. We seemed 10 be plummeting

ght down. For a long instant, the
world screamed all about me and th

“Hang onto yer lunch! Here we go!
old Chuckie sang into the intercom,
through the bellowing тоаг.

BBBBBAAAAHHHHARRRRROOO-
OOOMMMMM*

Oh! J God! ГИ never make it!
For a moment, the northern tip of my
liver seemed to be between my teeth. I
was being disemboweled! Feverishly, I
clung to everything 1 could grab. My
rms weighed 1000 pounds apiece. One
eyeball bad totally disengaged itself and.
was now hanging by a long thread and
bumping against my knee.

“Urk eM ШЕ оси
Voluntarily, my vocal cords quacked.

“Hey, Corporal, how ощ. gett
the ball there?" I couldn't tell wl
aid it; but in any event, it was an office

“Yessir!” I managed 10 croa

“Yer first checkpoints comi
mac. In about forty seconds.”

Checkpoint? What the hell check-
point? Franucally, I turned up the inu
sity and ser the range оп the sweep
control. A blip appeared. Ralphie cut in:

“Checkpoint One-D, Corporal—mz

“Yessir.”

I struggled to remember the routine
that I had so glibly parroted so m:
cons ago during g Dumbly, I

yapped into

and
was

230 filled in the squares on the chart at

tached to the clipboard on the control
board, noting what adjustments I could
see through the sweat that poured down
my nose and into my mouth.

"Look at them chicks, Ralphie, baby!
In that camoe down there!”

Ralphie whisled into the intercom.
They both cackled laxiviously as I
gamely continued to fake it, After fid-
dling with my controls for a minute or
two longer, I said, with as much confi-
dence as I could muster, “That’s it, sir
She checks out. OK, s it. Yessir.

"You all through, ma

“Uh, yesir. That's all. All through.
We can go back to the field now, sir.

There was a brief pause, and the

“OK, Ralphie, let's go back after them
girls!”

WWIVIWIWARRRRRRAAAAAHHH-
HHHRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEF,

The pencil leaped out of my hand
ng off somewhere back of me.
ain my tiny cockpit tilted insanely.
This time, my pancreas appeared be-
tween my teeth. The old eyeballs
snapped out, both eardrums thrumming
madly, like a phalanx of kettledrums.

We're in free fall now! The bottom
has dropped out of the airplane. We
were crash-diving at about 100 miles an
hour. All around me, above the banshee
saeam of the engines, I could hear omi-
nous ceaks and groans, the sound of
metal being tortured beyond belief. The
cigar buus and cigarette ends, dust and
bis of decayed insulation floated up
again from the cockpit floor—along with
my notes, which drifted up past my face
and clung to the ceiling.

“Hold onto your eyciceth,
Charlie screamed happily.

EEEEEFEEEEEEEEEEEBBBBBRR-
RRRRAAAAWIWIWIWWRRRRRR.

Gravity dawed at every square inch
of my wracked body. My ears hung like
great iron weights at cach side of the
boulder I wa 5 for a head. Each
tooth in my skull suddenly ied
19 pounds. And I was totally un
to breathe. The airplane
screamed, wept, flailed its wings а
struggled to keep from plunging to the
center of the carth. And ther
lously, we seemed to be once
level flight. My head lightened somew!
ad my lungs resumed functioning after
а fashion

Noticing a sliding panel beside my
head in the darkened canopy. 1 pulled it
back, Oh, my God! Through 1
slit, I saw bushes going pas
blur. Bushes! We were skimming inches
above the surface of а lake.

“Whoopee! Yahoo!”

We between
like the masts of a small
see two guys yelling up at us, throwing
beer bottles and shaking their fists.

BRRRRRAAAAHHHHHRRRRRR!

kiddies!

usi

wei,

mi

what looked
ilboat. I could

We were over a sandy island. I could
see shells on the shore.

AAAHHHHHHRRRRRROOOOO-
OOMMMMMM!

Two fishermen with baitcasting rods
looked up wildly as our prop wash
parted their hair.

“Whoopee!”

Oh, my God, when will it ever end?
My stomach churned. Sweat poured
down my Ralphie and Charlie

were vipping and yelling back and forth
at cach other in their squeaky little kid
voices. Ahead, I could see a row of
palm trees coming faster and faster in
Our direction as we boomed toward a
beach: the figures of [our or five girls
in bathing suits grew larger and larger.
At the last instant, with a huge BANG
from the engines that sent sand swirling
over the beach, we zoomed up over the
trees, taking a few palm fronds with us
and shaking down а couple of coconuts.
The girls wayed and applauded and were
gone in an instant.

"Did you sce the bizooms on that
redhead?” Ralphie, the cagleeyed navi-

‚ baked into the intercom:

ic climbed higher and higher.
асса the low, flat greenness of

the Florida swampland. Within me, a
tight, round ball of nausea was about to
reach critical mass. I huddled amid the

ihrumming. gre
breathing.

Thus we winged for what seemed. an
eternity, Ralphie and Charlie ocatsional-
ly chortling obscenely about the red-
head. Then, finally, there it was below—
the airfield, planes parked in rows, silver
hangars glistening in the twilight. I
heard Charlie talking to the control
tower. Then we were down, in as straight
and smooth a three-point landing as was
сусг executed,

We taxied along the runway, whecled
slowly to a halt in front of the hangar
where it had all started. Then—blessed
silence. 1 crawled out of the cockpit, no-
ticing for the first time that my legs were
made of rubber: funny—all these years 1
had never noticed that. Lethal and silent,
the great 4-26 exuded the swectish smell
of hot oil and bruised rubber.

Racing to the jeep, Charlie beat
alphie by a stride. Swearing, Ralphie
uled into the seat beside him.

“Let us reconnoiter that redhead with
them big bazooms, baby!” said the pilot
tothe navigator, as they roared off toward
the operations office, I was alone,

High overhead, а lone Musta
droned inland. My entrails were still
rearranging themselves as I staggered
toward the service hangar. Waves of
fear coursed through me in a stcady
rhythm. Here I was, back on the ground,
mission completed, and I still didn’t have
the foggiest notion what I was sup-
posed 10 have done or what they
expected of me.

In the distance, a platoon of enlisted

ning uproar, barely

"I know it’s a little unusual, senorita, but in this case it’s the
firing squad who would like to make a last request . . .”

PLAYBOY

232

men were drilling.
the soft air, I could hi
they marche

ar them singing as
“OF we go, into the wild
blue yonder . .. Until now, 1 had no
idea how wild the blue yonder w Аз 1
rolled along unsteadily, my knees still
watery, I hummed along with the pla-
тооп, They were singing my song. At last
I was where the action was. Maybe some-
day, I thought, when 1 get a leave, II
wear my goggles home. That would real-
ly impress them at Fificld’s drugstore.
1 could even wear my zippered flight su
1 exulted, even as my stomach heaved.
. flying high into the su
No more mosquitoes, no more heat
rash. no more taped pliers! 1 even
lowed myself to think, for the first time
in over a year, that I might possibly even
get another stripe. А попсћа! smiling
group of noncoms cut across my course,
heading for the РХ. Not опе had the
toadlike truculence, the granitic stolidity
of Sharkey. A new lile was begin
new world thar I had glimpsed
thousand movies lay before me
The captain, still at his desk. looked
up as I reeled into the echoing hangar.
He glanced dully at my phony figures on
the clipboard and said:
Turn in your equipment to supply.”
I stripped off my flying coveralls, my
boots, all of it ad handed it over to
the supply corporal. 1 noticed. that my
suit was wringing wet. A flutter of nau-
sca comsed up my spine and receded.
My stomach still quivered like a bowl of
grape Jello. The captain strode past me.
"Corporal. your vehicle's over at the
ic parking lot.” He waved his @
listlessly to indicate the direction.
My vehicle, Ah, that's the life. The
Air Corps really did it in style. A vehicle

to whisk me to my new barracks, whe
1 will meet my fellow airmen. Tonight
we will gather

in the ready
toast the gallant enemy, as I h;
seen David Niven do. Maybe VII grow a
mustache, possibly even invest in a set of
tailored suntans. After all. а fly-bov c
at such chic restaurants
as El Morocco or "21" wearing lumpy.
baggy Govermentissue khakis. And
ga myself опе of thos:
azzy baseball caps that I noticed the
N. C. О.» wearing. No more will I мий
that humiliating wavy-brimmed, stained
green fatigue hat down over my &
igue hat obviously patterned after the
syle affected by the lowlie
a Georgia ch
called by the enlisted. personnel. of the
less glamorous branches of the Service
“The Green Pisspot.” Already my stom-
ach felt Hauer. my shoulders broader.
my profile craguier as I cut through the
hangar. heading toward “my vehicle

I strolled out the side door, my sog-
gy suntans hanging limply in the h
turned the co
carrier waiting for me, driver behind the

have to

К

bers of

mei

commonly

hering gloom. A Libera-
ued directly overhead, flaps
down, wing lights blinking off and on,
the setting sun glittering on its spinning
prop blades. A thin, heroic smile played
for а brief instant over my chiseled fea-
tures. For a moment, 1 toyed with an im-
pulse to flick my hand up in a brotherly
silute to the boxcar as she whistled to-
ward the runway. I inhaled а deep
draught of soft twilight air, sivoring the
sexy aroma of high-octane fuels and hot,
oily machinery. 1 felt as though I had
died and waked up in heaven. I walked
up to the weapons carrier and around to
the passenger scat
Hop in. I ain't. got
Elkins, his закёһ
cap drooping down over his
hunched over the controls.
great wave of apprehension, dis
impending doom roared through
ing. Elkins!
I crawled i

П day."
0-mission

crush

my

I noticed my barracks
bags in the rear. Oh, no! We roared off.
Soon we were once again hurtling fiend-
ishly through the back roads of rural
Florida, the state that invented boon-
docks. Elkins was in no mood for conver-
n. Nor was L Flocks of terrified
kens fluttered over our hood as we
roared through the darkening night. My
whole body felt numb; I was in shock
from the horror of this incredible out-
rage. Farther and farther we droned
ay from Life, from Beauty, from the
world of Gregory Peck and Alan Ladd.
Closer and closer we drew to the dark
void of the swamps and the drugged
existence of Company К.

I pondered the inscrutable ways of the
military. Why bad they called on me?
What was it all about? I knew there
could be no answer. There never was;
there never would be. I watched the pal-
metos and the pine trees spin by and
wondered listlessly whether wed get
in time for chow. Chow, What а јок —
powdered eggs, S... kerose
French toast. leather 1
ple Death, a lethal “drink” concocted by
the sadistic cooks of Company K, com-

posed of a peculiar bittersweet purple
powder bearing the laughable label of
issolved in heavily chlori-

broke

ater, Chow!
into my bitter reveri

“1 thought you was in the Air Corps."

“Yeah, so did 1."

We roared along for several m
after this exchange, Elkins contemp
ing the mysteries

"You screw up again?"

“How the hell do 1 know
матах

He snecred into his cloudy wind-
shield. We both knew who he meant.
Them. With practiced dexterity, Elkins
fished a cigarette ош of the pack in his
fatigues pocket, lit it from the stub that
dangled from his lower lip, left hand

flicking the worn steering wheel back
and forth as we careened along through
the gloom.

Boy, І wisht T could get in the Air
Corps. I'd show them babies how to fly
them babies,’ he said finally, to the
unhearing night.

A baleful, gibbous moon rode high in
the night sky when we finally creaked
the weapons carrier up our narrow path
between the tents. I swung myself to the
ground, dragging my barracks bags after
me. Elkins threw the хо gear, spun
wheels insolently and was gone. I
stood in front of the orderly room, the
same smelly litle tent that 1 had left
what seemed centuries ago. A faint sliver
of yellow light cut through the mosquito
netting of the door. Kicking my bags to
one side of the path, I went in
crawford, in a soggy T-shirt
nts, sat reading a dog-cared
copy of Forever Amber, his feet up on
the filing cabinet behind his desk. As I
entered, Sharkey, chewing on a huge,
succulent. corned-beef sandwich, barked:

“BUTTON UP THAT COLLAR,
SOLDIER!

Old Horses Ass casually lowered
heavily charged Kool-Aid 10 his littered

desk. 1 was home.
Well. Welcome back, Corporal.

‘Than si

vou, sir, Capta
He sipped at his drink for a moment
while scanning some mimeographed
sheets that lay before him amid the back
issues of Doc Savage. From a distant tent,
the faint sound of squeaky radio music
—Bing Crosby singing something about
praising the Lord and passing the am
munition—hitered through to
“We almost lost you. didn't we?
Silence fell, broken only by the steady
munching of Sharkeys lantern jaw.

“We couldn't let you You're
valuable man around hi
"Thank you, sir.
"Could we. Serge:

key grumed—

go.

belch.

“It took a little doing to get you back,
“Thank you, s
“I knew you'd appreciate it. One

thing, though . . ." he continued.
Yessir.”
“We have a t
ominously, refer
ble of ox i
sive. friendly smile that
dim tent.
ergcant Sharkey pointed out to me
fter you left this morning that we were
short one corporal Right, Sergeant

ht T/O here,” he said
g 10 the company
He smiled an expan
айу lit up the

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a bowling ball. He drove home the
spike

"Now that youre back, Im afraid
we're one corporal over our quota, since
we made Zinsmeister а corporal this
morning. You see our problem?”

“Yessir.”

So I'm afraid you're a Pfc. again.
But you're at the top of the list for the
next stripe." He shuflled his papers 10
dicate that the interview had ended
I saluted limply and plodded out into
the darknes. I dragged my |
behind me in the ruts
ward my own tent. The rich, velvet Flor
ida sky, filled with billions of brilliant
stars, lit up the camouflaged canvas peaks
faintly. Thousands of fect overhead.
against the milky way, a tiny V forma
tion of bombers zoomed gracefully to-
ward the cast, canying along with them
a happy band of lieutenants and ma-
jors, master sergeants and warrant officers.

I stood in front of the same tent in
which 1 had drowsed away the last eon
ol my life, Opening the tent Пар, I took
а deep breath of the familiar leror ol
sweat, cinronella and sulfa salve within,
and stepped inside. I sat on the cdge of
my bunk and listened briefly to the
whine of the ever-present, voracious mos
quito squadrons. Gasser lay stretched
under his mosquito bar, his thick coat-
ing of salve glowing in the moonlight.

"Hey. Gasser.”

He stirred, rose to one elbow
peered sleepily over at me.

“Is that you?"

Yeah.”

“I thought you were in the Air Corps."
So did 1.”
“You screw up а
“I's а long stor
They give you the shafi again?"

"What do you think?"

He Hopped back heavily оп his sack.

We sat silently for а long minute or two.

acks bags
as I headed to

and

Finally, he spoke:

"E knew it was лоо good to be true.
Nobody never gets out of here."

I peeled olf my suntans,
smeared some salve over my shoulders,
crawled in under my mosquito bar and
lay back. Our generator pounded in the
darkness behind the dune and the low
perpetual moan of our radar sceped into
my brain. | was back. Gasser snored
softly. My shoulder blades dug into the
muggy. familiar hills and valleys of the
bunk that had cradled me for so long.
Somewhere in the darkness. a lizard
scurried over taut canvas. The heat rash
on my stomach tingled dully. familiarly
—an old friend. I heard Edwards from
the next tent stumbling along the duck-
boards on his way to the lamine, his
weak kidneys still hard at work. Com-
pany К. at the very bottom of the
barrel, slowly marched on.

sodden

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With sharp paring knife, cut out core
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Wash watercress and remove any for-

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endive into salad bowl. Crumble roque
fort cheese and sprinkle over salad. In
small

g bowl, combine olive oil.
" (d. onion, 14 teaspoon
silt and dash of pepper. Beat well. Pour
half the dressing over the salad and toss
well. Add more dressing to t
with salt and pepper.

vin mur

SURIMI SOUFFLE, FKA DIAVOLO

114 Ibs. (cooked weight) peeled, de
veined shrimps, purchased freshly
cooked

V4 cup butter

14 cup instantized flour

114 cups milk

9 eggs, whites a

2 ozs. dry sherry

1 medium-size onion, g

1 tablespoon lemon juice

Salt, pepper

Preheat oven at
shr
using fine
whole sh
ter

d yolks separated

ted

0^. Put one third of

Reserve balance of
uce below. Pur bu

flou

a
Remove from f yolks well
and add 10 at over low flame 1

minute, stirring constantly. Remove from
flame. Add ground shrimp, sherry, on.
ion, lemon juice па pepper to
taste. Beat egg whites until stiff but still
glosy, not dry. Add one quarter of the
egg whites 10 shrimp mixture and stir
well, Slowly add shrimp mixture to bal-
ance of egg whites, folding in very care-
fully and lightly, using a down, over, up
stroke with spoon or spatula to keep
mixtine as light as possible. Turn into
Zquart soufè dish, greased on bottom
only. Fit dish with greased aluminum
foil collar extending 2 ins. above rim of
dish. Place dish in a shallow pan with I
n. boiling water. Bake 60 to 70 minutes
or until well browned. Serve the follow-
ing sauce as an accompaniment to the
soulllé.
20-01. €
EE
24

plumstyle tomatoes
te

lespoons. salad. ой
1 medium-size onion, finely minced
1 clove garlic, finely minced

14 teaspoon chopped dried basil

14 teaspoon dried oregano

1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley
1 cup dry white wine

2 tablespoons cognac

Salt, pepper

(continued from page 148)

Drain tomatoes, reserving juice. Chop
tomato meat coarsely. Combine tomatoes
with their juice and tomato paste, mixing
well. Set aside. In saucepan, heat oil; add
and sauté onion basil, oregano
and parsley until onion turns yellow, not
brown. Add white wine and cognac. Set
aflame, When flames subside, add tomato
mixture. Simmer 10 minutes. Add
shrimps remaining from recipe aboye and
cook until shrimps are heated through.
Add salt and pepper to taste.

SILVER ONION, GREEN PEA AND POTATO
SALAD

1 Ib. small silver onions
1002. pkg. frozen pras

3 mediumsize potatoes

3 egg volks, well beaten
54 cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1⁄4 teaspoon dry mustard
9 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon sugar
14 cup whitewine vinegar

Salt, white pepper

Peel onions, slicing off root ends. Boil

“Don't call me ‘boy’!

until tender. Drain, Boil peas. following
directions on package. Drain. Boil poi
toes in jackets until tender. Drain, Peel
potatoes and cut into Yin, cubes. In
top of double boiler, combine egg yolks.
cream, both kinds of mustard, butter and
sugar. Cook over simmering water, stir-
ring frequently, just until thick. Remove
from flame and stir in vinegar, Add salt
and pepper to taste. Chill. Add dressing
10 cooked vegetables. Toss well. Correct
cold.

PARMESAN SOUFFLE
2 cups milk
Yo cup instantized flour
14 cup butter
7 egg yolks, well be
6 ozs. shredded gruyère cheese
Y4 cup grated parmesan cheese (freshly
grated, if possible)
Salt, cayenne pepper
9 egg whites
Preheat oven at 350
and butter in

Put. milk, flour
ixing well

saucepan

Bring to a boil over a moderate flame,
stirring constantly until sauce is thick.
Remove from flame and stir in egg yoll

mixing well. Return to a low flame and

235

PLAYBOY

236

cook 1 minute, stirring constantly. Re-
move from flame and stir in both kinds
of cheese. Season lightly with salt. Add а
dash or two of cayenne. Beat egg whites
until stiff but still glossy, not dry. Add
опе quarter of the egg whites to cheese
mixture. Stir well Slowly add cheese
mixture to balance of egg whites, folding
in very carefully and lightly, using a
down, over, up stroke with spoon or
spatula to keep mixture as light as possi-
ble. Turn into 2«quart souffié dish, greased
on bottom only. Fit dish with greased
collar extending
h. Place dish in a si
эр water, Bake 60 to
il well browned.

SICILIAN CAPONATINA SALAD
15 cup olive oil
1 small bay 1
1 cup cel

1 quart. cggpla

res.

ed and cut into

m-size onion ced very fine
poon oregano

ар redwine у

1 tablespoon sugar

Soz. can tomato sauce

2 tablespoons capers

12 large pimiento-stufled olives, sliced
thin

tablespoons finely minced parsley

4 cup oil in large skillet over
te flame. Do mot let oil reach
t. Add bay leaf and celery
and sauté until celery is s ler. Add
eggplant and continue to sauté slowly.
stirring Irequently, until cggplant is ten-

H
moder
smoking ро

der. Remove eggplant and celery from
рап. Add 2 tablespoons oil, onion and
oregano and sauté until onion is just

yellow. not brown. Add vinegar. sugar
tomato sauce, capers, olives and parsley.

Simmer 5 minutes. Pour sauce over
eggplant and celery. Chill in refrigerator

at least one day before ad
may be kept covered in refrigerator for
future use.
Obviously, one is limited only by his
nation
ss of s
palate be your

“Tm beginning to have serious doubts about the efficiency
of those psychological job-placement tests."

testimony in the proceedings
(continued from paze 100)

nickname. That vea
«лале for slingshots i

ће

was а
the cighth s

Every kid in the grade had anything up
to six slingshots on him all the time.
Some of us were better than others at
them, and better shots with
turally. I had a kind of specialty

in small slingshots. 1 kept making them
smaller and smaller, until I got them
down lo not more than an inch and a
hall high. These were made ol spring-
steel wire and they shot bird shot. They
were for indoor use, in classrooms, sty.
Now. it happened tbat Ed Caparell sat
three seats in front of me and one row
over and I was fascinated by the way
his cars stuck out from his head and the
target they made. 1 used to pot him a
good deal. At u псе, | must admit,
bird shot would still be going. pretty
hard nd | could often
e him le a vip. and then of
he'd have Sister. Mary-Margaret
m. At Teast twice he was so shaken
that he squealed on me, but it never did
him any good. because I had а foolproof
system: the bird shot 1 kept in my
mouth, only five or six of them, I could
even let you open шу mouth and look in
and you wouldn't sce them. T! c sling
shot itself Т could hide in the neckband
ol my shirt, or I'd stick it into a wad of
gum underneath my desk, places like that.
ПТ vv: P take it, then, that we
y assume two points: You we
knowledged master of the slingshot, par-
ticularly the miniature slingshot, and
you favored. M ell as а target
ANGELO SALZMAN: Yes, sir, although, my
sod, again | would like ıo point out
that this was all more than 20 years ago,
ant...
Justice мелу: We undesand. I
Would suggest you res bi, Mr.
Salzman. It will no doubt be necessary
to call i

when it

out

you
What about. il
about the piano playe
them

ED CAPAKELL:

ow,

ANGELO SALZMAN: You're not ruuning this
proceeding, Caparell.
Ep самала: What about the sparrow,

1, what
row and the piano player. y
tell that?

ANGELO SALZMAN: Your Hoi
10 answer this mut?

Wsvice, MEANY: Mi. Salz you
serve a severe rebuke for the usc of that
epithet, and I require your imr diate
apology
ANGELO SALZMAN: I'm sorry.
D carake: I'm sony 1 called him a

you yellow b: bout the sp:

afraid to

abou

or, do E have

de-

yellow bastard. For all 1 know, he's just
yellow
Justice MEANY: Perhaps you will be

good enough to give us the details, Mr,

Salzman? If I feel the matter is not
pertinent, I will interrupt you.
ANGELO SALZMAN; When we were in
second-year high school, Ed got a job as
an usher in the Odeon movie theater.
‘The episodes he's referring to, one night
a week the Odeon used to show old silent
films, and for those nights a piano player
сате in. Some of us used to si the
balcony and hit him on th
BB shot. If you hit him hard enough, of
course, he'd bang down on the keys and
make a very dissonant sound, and some
times he'd blow up altogether.

JUSTICE MEANY: You were using air guns
in the theater?

ANGELO sALZMAN: No, slingshots.
JUSTICE MEANY: What effect did your
behavior have on. М
understand the connection.
ANGELO SALZMAN: Well, һе м
to maintain order and prevent things like
that from happenin
JUSTICE MEANY: 1 see. And the sparrow?
ANGELO SALZMAN: Well, one night on the
way to the theater І had a wild idea, І
knocked a sparrow oll a fence and hid it
in one of the radiators in the theater,
near where Ed’s post was, This was in
the winter and they didn't find it for
several It was just a prank. Matter

nd of prank. My

was a very innocent
God, girly did worse than that!
justice MEANY: Yes, I have heard that
some of the Р ylvania coalfield com
munities have unusually liberal stand-
rds of civic behavior. Thank you, Mr.
Salzman. 1 will ask Mr. Bartolino to
come up, please.
ANTHONY BARIOLINO: I art director
at Ballinger, Jason, Me: aturally,
s closely concerned.
with the Treat account. Things went
badly right from the first, and it was
in enough to me that cither Salzman
ог Gaparell, one or the other, would
eventually have to get off the account,
Шу. At first they
weren't really fights, they just niggled at

cach other. Each of diem would put
down any suggestion the other one
made. Gaparell was supercilious. His atti-

tude was that of a man who hated to
have to talk about the obvious, but what
could he do, he seemed to be saying,
with anyone as de an? Salz-
the other hi ncedled

id,
Caparcll steadily and always ended the

1 on

discussion by saying that he was, alter
all, the account executive and things
were going to go his way.

jusrice Meany: I believe there was an
episode involving an ashtray?
ANTHONY BARTOLINO: Yes, there
My department had run up a number of
four-color layouts involving а girl in a
fairly startling 1 made up in the
yellow and red of the "Treat package.
Salzman liked the idea, but Caparell had
done a tremendous amount of research

was.

оп the whole concept and he just blew it
out of the water. 1 don't think there'd be
any point going into the technicalities,
but he buried the whole idea. $

was furious, and the discussion quickly
got away from the issues and got out of
hand and into personalities. "There were
opinions exchanged about virility, and so
on. While all this had been going on,
Salzman had been fiddling with a paper
clip, and quite suddenly he came up
a little slingshot; he had a wad of tin foil
in it and he said to Caparell, “Jug-Ears,
if you don't shut up, I'm going to let you
have it right in the head." At that point,
Сараге went totally out of control. He
grabbed a big aystal ashtray, he stood
and took a run and he slung the thing at
Salzman with every bit of force he had,
c a discus thrower. Salzman just did
duck in time. It would have beheaded
him. Then Salzman went berserker and
several of us had to restrain him by
force. Caparell was screaming for us to
let him go so he could kill him. We һай
to take them out separately.

WEANY: You did not suspect any
element of, say, bluff, in either of them?
ANTHONY BARTOLINO: At the end, I don't
think Salzman was really trying to get
away from us. I don't know if any of us
could have held Caparell He was beet
red and screaming. He looked maniacal.
I had a typespecification book on the
table. It was two inches thick. Ed
grabbed it and tore it into four pieces
and threw them at лтап.

vsricE MrAxv: Thank you, Mr. Bario-
о. We will hear Mr. Jason now.
MARTIN Jason: I did relieve Mr. Caparell
of responsibi
bur I think it likely I would have done so
even had Mr. Salzman not been con-
cerned. Frankly, I had seen signs of,
well, of strain in Mr. Caparell for some
mths before. For example, he had ob-
jected strenuously 10 a campaign
mounted for a major Detroit client. The
burden of the campaign involved re-
search this company was doing in the
mutter of the steam-powered automo-
bile, with the implication that the return

JUSTICE

we

COCHRAN

“This is the last panty raid yowll ever organize!”

237

PLAYBOY

of the steam automobile was at least pos
sible if not exactly imminent, and that it
would go far to reduce the smog prob-
Jem. Mr. Caparell was in favor of our de
dlining this business on the ground that
the idea was impracticable. He amassed
great deal of material to back up his
point; indeed, I was told he had stayed
in the office for two nights to do so, al-
though ГА told him I couldn't entertain
his objections for a moment, since the
y of the basic idea was solely
the client's responsibility, пог ours.
There were other things. I might say
that we at Ballinger, Jason, Mear have a
distinctly liberal attitude. We have no
use for the Stone Age concept that it’s an
t of disloyalty for an employee to use
products competitive to those we adver-
tise; but Mr. Caparell, it seems to me,
le a point of using none of our prod-
ucts. Miss Meagan has told us of his atti-
tude toward Treat cigarettes. That was
typical. I repeat, 1 am not speaking of
agency loyalty. Mr rell's attitudes
were irrational. They were the attitudes
who is cracking.
"Thank you, Mr. J
маку ADAMS: When Mr. Caparell went
on leave of absence from his work, he
insisted that Mrs. Caparell go away and
visit her sister in California. He said he
didn't want her mooning over He
made her go away, even though she
didn't want 10. 1 thought she was bette
off. He certainly wasn't good. company
He made some terrible scenes around the
house the Salamans bought the
place across the pond. He called up
the real-estate people and everything, and
Mrs. Caparell couldn't do anything to
stop him, He said crazy things, like they
were trying 10 drive him out of town.
And after Mis. Caparell was gone, he
т. He'd sit there at
ing whiskey and looking over
t the Salzman place through a periscope
he had in the living room, some kind of
а spyglass. and he'd talk to himself. He
had a regular schedule: Wednesday and
Thursday he'd be in New York looking
for a job. Friday morning he'd come
home, before noon, and putter around,
and аг night he'd watch the Salzman
house, And hed do that every night un-
til Wednesday. I don't know how long
he'd keep at it, but he never went to bed
before Т did, at ten o'clock. Then, about
two months ago, he started with the
stones, and he ordered the lumber and
things.
JUSTICE MEANY: You had no idea, I am.
sure, of the nature of the project Mr.
Caparell had in mind?
Mary ADAMS: No, sir. I'm afraid that 40
years as a housekeeper didn't equip me
for that. 1 just thought he was going
dotty, when he began chipping away at
those stones, Hed put on his goggles

son.

when

238 and get his chisels and. his hammer and

start in every morning, chipping away.
And later, about in April, he started
work on his machine. And all the time
he'd be drinking whiskey, day and night.
учусь Meany: Did he become
itoxicated?
MaRy лрамэ: Never. ТЇЇ sty that for him.
He drank all day and half the night and
he was never anything but stone sobe:
CONSTARLE SPERLING: At 12:06 P.M. on
Saturday, the fourth of May, a call came
1 from the Humphrey's Pond district,
caller not identified. asking for an officer
10 go to Angelo Salzman's house on Hill-
w Road. The caller, a lady, was upset
and said the house was "being explod-
ed.” I took Officer Gunnerich and we ar-
rived at the top of Hillview Road about
five minutes later. The first thing we no-
ticed when we came near the Salzman
place was that his Volkswagen had the
left front wheel knocked in and there
was a tremendous dent in the roof. Salz-
man himself was behind a big oak tee.
Then Gunnerich yelled and pointed and
1 saw an objec come flying through the
jı across the pond and hit the house just
nder the caves. It went out the other
side. 1 noticed that the roof was broken
in several places. Almost right away, an-
other object came over and this one hit
the chimney, destroying it altogether.

Then another, and by this time, we
the objets were

both sce that
d about twice as b
Jaman was yelling and pointing,
he was saying that the things were
coming from the Gaparell place across
the pond. Gunnerich and I watched, and
it was true. The pond is only about 200
yards wide at that point and we could
clearly see Mr. Caparell in his front yard
working some kind of appa
could. sce these big balls fly
оп a straight line, I yelled across to him
to stop it, and I believe the next ball was
aimed at me. I could sce it coming and I
stepped. aside. This one went through
Mr. Salzman’s house in the living-room
area and was the one that destroyed the
color TV set 1 then dr revolver
and fired twice in the air. This had no
eflec. Accordingly, Gunnerich and Salz
man and I piled into the patrol car and
started around the pond toward Capa-
rell's place. When we came to the head
of his drivew: h is a long and
straight one, Salzman yelled to look out,
that he was aiming the thing at us, and I
could see that he was, and 1 could sce
what he had. It wa y big slingshot
mounted on a timber framework with
old automobile wheels under it. We all
saw the first ball coming. It hit the car
dead center, It went through the grille,
the radiator, between the two cylinder
banks, taking out the carburetors, came
through the fire wall, wrecked the short-
wave radio, went through both seats and
left a dent as big as a man's head in the

could

as base-

tus, and we

w my

trunk. The car stopped, of course. We
jumped out and ran for Caparell, or
started to, but by this time he had re-
loaded and that shot took down a six-
inch-thick maple wee right beside Officer
Gunnerich, We ducked down behind the
stone wall bordering the front of h
property, and almost at once a ball
through the м

around the head by flying pieces of
stone, and I stood up and told Caparell
that if he moved a muscle I would shoot

JUSTICE. MEAN ater had
п Opportunity to examine the weapon
Mr, Caparell had constructed?
CONSTABLE SPERLING: Yes. It was a sling-
shot using ten full inner tubes for power,
with a very ingenious electrically driven
compound pulley arrangement, so that
Zaparell could pull the pouch back
immediately alter shooting and
gain. It had a telescopic sight.
balls were hand-chipped round

The
stones and they all weighed exactly s

pounds.

justice MEANY: Thank you, Constable.
Nurse, I think it will not be necesary for
Mr. Caparell to remain longer. Thank
you for your cooperation, Mr.
DR. ABEL PIKE: There is no question in
my mind, and none in the minds of my
Е members, that M
lesly schizoid: and while I
in sympathy with the pu
ust register strong opposition
to his release from Mcrrylegs Farm. He
is extremely dangerous.

Justice MEANY; Were he to escape, I

presume we would be justified in feeling
some concern for Mr. Salzman's salety?
m

pike: Indeed. But his esc
otc contingency. He is under
imumsecurity surveillance, but it is
also important that he shows no particular
wish to leave Merrvleg
missive as the condition of our
permits us to be, and we are apparently
keeping Mr. Caparell quite happy. You
will recall that Mrs. Adams testilicd Mr.
Caparell prepared the round stones be-
fore he began to make his slingshot.
he is Фотир now. He is
his stones. He is more ambitious
These are 100-pound stones. It
bout six weeks t0 make
one perfealy round. We have an ample
supply of raw material for him, and he
tells me be intends to make 250 siones
before beginning on the slingshot. This
amounts to something over 28 years of
work, Mr. Caparell is content, and I
would say that he has a busy and, to
warding future stretching

DR.

now.

him, a r
ahead.

JUSTICE MEAD
to all of us to know that.

Tam sure it is a comfort

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Do your bird watching in a
pair of Wright jeans.

Why Wrights? Because
Wright jeans fit like they were
made for you and not for some
other gay with maybe knobbier
knees or a fatter rear end,

And, she just might decide to
watch you back.

In which case, you'll want to
look into the merits of Wright
casuals, as well.

The jeans: diagonal twill
solid, $8.00; glen plaid hopsack,
$7.00; wide track hopsack, $7.00.
All Everpressed™. All 50% For-
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WRIGHT.
CASUALS

PLAYBOY

240

the ground game. Defensive end Bob
Stein, if he can stay healthy, will be one
of the best in the land. Murray Warmath
is still the most resourceful college coach
in the country; and with a Ше luck. the
Gophers could wind up in the Rose
Bowl.

Except at end and quarterback, the
Ohio State offense will be green and
thin. Consequently, the airways (heresy!)
may be the major avenue of attack. One
of two promising new running backs
(Dave Brungard or Ray Gillian) may
blossom, however. and save the day for
coach Woody Hayes. The defense will
be as solid as ever, and Woody isn't like-
ly to tolerate two losing seasons in a row;
so look for the Buckeyes to upend some
of the i . Best candidate. for
this honor is Ilinois, which takes on the
Buckeyes a week alter playing Nowe
Dame.

The Michigan team will be but a
shadow of its former self, Graduation

gutted the offense, leaving only passer
Dick Vidmer and а couple of linemen.
The entire defensive backfield will be
new, also. Although the replacements
are able, the rawness will show and the
Wolverine war machine will sputter,

especially during the first half of the
season.

The slow and tedious job of rcbuild-
ing a win am proceeds apace at
Indiana and Towa, and both squads
should show noticeable improvement

{continued from page 120)

this year. Both backfields will have good
talent. At two new quarter:
backs—Harry Gonso and John Isenbarg-
er—are such good athletes that one of
them will be shifted to halfback, and
veteran Terry Cole may yer turn out to
be the best fullback in the Big Ten. The
defense will be beeficr and more agile,
but raw. In short, the Hoosiers will be
deeper and abler. but green. So will
Iowa. Tli wkeyes were dismally in-
ept last усаг. especially on defense, The
defenders will be older and meaner this
id the offensive line, manned by
bon sophs, will be bigger and
stronger. rback Ed Podolak and
айраск Silas McKinnic are the big
guns; and if they can get some blocking
from the novice linemen, they could take
Towa a long way back to success.

Northwestern seems to be this years
have-not in the Big Теп. Coach Alex
Agase, a wily and resourceful Assyrian
assembler of football machines from as-
sorted spare parts, will have to tax his
ingenuity to come up with a working
offense this season. The problem is simple
but not so sweet: a dearth of interior line
men and no ends, But Alex will probably
find some bodies somewhere, as he did
last season. when he was faced with simi:
lar poverty pockets.

‘The entire Mid-American Conference
will be stronger this fall, with the
exception of Miami, where ser
terback problems n

“He's a great coach. The school hasn't even been
built yet and we ve already in the top len!”

desperation, rookie fensive halfback
Kent Thompson has been switched to
quarterback; however, prospects for con-
tinuing the uaditionally strong Miami
passing game a bright. Look for the
Redskins to run a lot this year, but not
well enough to hold off the challenges of
other M. A.C. teams.

Western Michigan and Kent State
seem to be the best bets to unseat Miami.
Both squads return virtually unscathed
by graduation. Coach Bill Dooliule
has made winning an addiction at
Western. Michigan and is so rich in good
talent this year n unbeate
is a distinct. possibility. Kent Sta
nearly as strong. Luck and
possibly be as bad. this year as li
tate partisans insist that Don Fitzge
is the best running back i
but if a thin offensive line isn't shored up
by opening kickoff, he may not get a
chance to prove it.

Bowling Green will abandon the tradi-
tional plodding infantry atack and will
Hil the air with footballs. Sophomo
middle guard Joe Green may be the finest
athlete ever to enroll at Bowling Green
and will help make the Falcon defensive
i gnable.

‘Toledo and Ohio University should be
very much improved. Both squads are

p in experienced returnees and are
blessed with bumper crops of rookies.
The sophs will help Ohio University field
п explosive and versitile offense (keep
п eye on new passer Cleve Bryant).
but a wicked schedule may prevent the
Bobcats’ win column from getting too
healthy. Toledo's record, however, should.
be vastly improved if the Rockets can
break last year’s habit of perpetrat-
ing big mistakes at exactly the wrong
time. Opposing coaches say middle
guard Tom Beutler is a demon and war
their teams to run away from him. Mar-
shall should be stronger, thanks to the
defensive squad: but unless coach Charlie
Suyder can find some offensive backs. the
Thundering Herd won't exactly trample
anybody to death.

Dayton, а perennial door mat, amazed
fans last year by putting together a Ы
ing halfback olfense and winning eight
games. rs should be even
stronger this season if talented coach
Johu McVay cin mold а solid defensive
vier lost the heart of both its
offense and defense and the quarterback
spot has been proclaimed a disaster area

Hurricane warnings are up all over
the South, Virtually the entire. Miami
squad, which wrought havoc among op-
ponents last year, returns, fortified with
such dasy newcomers as quarterback
David Teal and runner Vincent Opalsky,
who threaten to displace veterans on
the starting unit. The Hurricanes are so
deep in talent at all positions that this
should be Miami's greatest team. Charlie
Tate has done а fantastic coaching job

THE SOUTH
‘SOUTHEASTERN CONFERENCE
Tennessee 91 Auburn 37
Alabama 82 Kentucky 37
Mississippi B2 Mississippi State 2-8
Georgia 73 Louisiana State 2-8
Florida 64 Venderbilt 15

ATLANTIC COAST CONFERENCE

Clemson 82 Virginia 55
N. C. State 73 Maryland 35
Wake Forest 64 North Carolina 2-8
Duke 55 South Carolina 28
SOUTHERN CONFERENCE.
East Carolina — 82 West Virginia 4-6
William & Mary 6-4 — Virginia Military 4-6
Davidson 54 Furman 45
The Citadel 55 Richmond 28
INDEPENDENTS:

91 Southern Miss 6-3
Vigne Tech 82 Georgia Tech 55
Tulane 73 Tampa 45
Florida State 73
TOP PLAYERS: Johnson, Warren, Fulton,
Flowers (Tennessee); Johns, Hall, Owen,

Homan, Stephens (Alabama); Sertin, Urba:
nek, Bush, Haik (Mississippi); Chandler,
Stanfill, Heyes, Kohn (Georgia); Smith
Trapp (Florida); Blue, Hyatt (Auburn); Van
Note, Lyons (Kentucky); Lewis, Saget’ (Mis-
sissippi St); Garlington, Bevan (LSU)
Healy (Vanderbilt); Mass, Olszewski, Sur-
savage, Gore, Addison (Clemson); Byrd,
Bowers, McMahon (North Carolina SL);
Grant, Henry, Leavitt (Weke Forest); Cala-
c Br Nurphy (Duke); Quayle (Vir-
inia); (Maryland); Riggs,
North coat Galloway, Garnto, Wingard
(South Carolina); Hicks, Moran (East Caro.
lina); Brown (William & Магу); Poole, Kelly
(Davidson); Small (Сад rd, Crennel
(West Virginia); Schmalzrit Habase-
vich (VMI); Hahn (Furman); O'Brien (Rich-
Hendricks. Cox, Miller, Teal, McGee
Loria, Foussekis, Barefoot, Rash
(Virginia Tech); Duhon, Jancik, Hartnett
(Tulane), Sellers, McDuffie, Pajcic (Florida
St); Roussel, Webb (Southern Miss.); Snow,

iman, Nelson, Sias (Georgia Tech),
Farley (Tampa).

since he took over in 1964 and his efforts
come to full fr n this season, for
which we nominate him PLAYBOY Coach
of the Year. PLAYLOY All-Ame:
sive end Ted Hendricks is Mia
time greatest player and Jimmy Cox may
be the best offensive end in the South,
All in all the Hurricanes should im-

ar, when they knocked
јог bowl teams. Look for the
Notre Dame game to be a real Donny-
brook.

Tennessee is Miami's major competi-
tor for the honor of being the best team
in the Southland. Like Miami, the Vols re-
turn most of the big guns from last year's
potent offense, rraynoy All-America
center Bob Johnson and former delen-
sive demon Joe Graham anchor an offen-
sive line that should be the best in the
South. Dewey Warren, Charles Fulton,
Richmond. wers and Bob Mauriello
could prove to be the most explosive

backfield in the country. The Vols may
have some defensive problems, due to
the graduation of a brace of brilliant
linebackers, which have become a tradi-
Чоп in Knoxville, But Tennessee should
be able to outscore nearly everyone this

е Tennessee, Mississippi's forte
n be its defense. Last year's
modest offense will be a little zippier,
but the Johnny Rebs are still searching
for an outstanding quarterback. New-
comer "Terry Collier may be the solution
to that problem. Bobby Wade and Don
Street form a lethal tandem at fullback
behind a gritty and experienced olfen-
sive line. So the Rebel offense may con-
sist of simply running over everybody.

Alabama will field the most vicious
defensive platoon in the country. Small,
quick and agile, and imbued with Bear
Bryant's own patented killer instinct, the
Alabama defenders are so stingy that
opposing quarterbacks develop ulcers
trying to figure out how to get a first
down. The only fly in the Bear's oint-
ment this year is the offense. The '66
attack unit has departed almost en
masse, Although the Alabama reserves
are always deep, the replacements appear
doubtful and, at best, will be green. So
look for a lot of low-scoring games this
season. When Alabama's defense meets
Tennessee's pyrotechnic offense in Bir-
mingham on October 21, we should get
the answer to the old conundrum about
what happens when an irresistible force
meets an immovable object.

Georgia
lethal adn

ill again have that happily
ure of assorted. proven. vet-

slinger Paul Gilbert threatens to displace
Kirby Moore. Ronnie Jenkins and speed:
ster Kent Lawrence are two of the best
runners in the South. PLAYBOY All-Ameri-
ca Ed Chandler is so big, fast and agile
that he can play both tackle and guard
and is the best player in the South at
both positions; hut except for him and.
de fensive tackle Bill Stanfill, the Georgia
ine play will not be up to last season's
standards: so the Bulldogs shouldn’t fare
quite so well this go-round.

Although Florida will sorely miss
Steve Spurrier, rookie passer Jackie Eck-
dahl and vet Harmon Wages will take
up much of the slack, and glue-fingered
receiver Richard Trapp will make them
look good. Florida's biggest asset, how-
ever, will be tailback Larry Smith, who
is probably the greatest runner in college
football today. We asked an opposing
cotton-belt coach to explain Smith's un-

and he tokl us, "It's sim-
that thing carries the ball, he
гс or four folks, then he runs
4 three or four folks, then he just

runs away from the rest of 'em.” Coach
Graves will again field an extremely
well-conditioned and d ed crew,

but the defense will be tl т than last
year. so the. Gators may show somewhat
of a decline.

Seldom in the history of Southern
football the aristocracy been so
much richer than the po' folk. This year's
impecunious partisans are Auburn,

"Quick! Bury that and not a word to anyone!"

241

PLAYBOY

Kentucky, Mississippi State, LSU and
Vanderbilt, Auburn will field à. respect-
able first team on both attack and defense.
but depth is precariously thin and inju-
ries, stich as those experienced last year,
could be devasta Kentucky is in che
second year of a rebuilding program and
a bumper crop of sophomores gives the
Wildcats more warm bodies than in any
season of this decade. Dicky Lyons
explosive runner and so is supersoph
Roger Gann, but the Wildcats are st
а year away from being a power in
the Southeastern. Conference. Mississippi
s undergoing a radical
tion under new coach Charlie
lack of depth and team speed
will be incurable weaknesses. LSU still
suffers from devastating injuries sus-
tained last fal and in spring prac
tice. Only nine of twenty-two starters
return and replacements are, at bes
questionable. Defensive end John Gar-
lington is one of the best anywhere, but
he won't have much help. Like Missis-
sippi State, LSU plays а backbreaking
schedule, Vanderbilt's problem is both
obvious and insurmountable: The Com-
modores simply do not have enough
players of S. E. C. caliber. Chip Healy at
lincbacker is a terror, but he doesn’t
have much company. For years, Vande
bilt has been trying to held a competitive
Southern football team, while demand-
ing Ivy League academic standards of
players. It should be obvious by now
that it won't work.

There is only one word 10 describe
Clemson: loaded. Forty-six lettermen
from last years young squad have
turned stronger and wiser. Record setting
passer Jimmy Addison and clusive ru
er Buddy Gore will operate behind
muscular offensive line led by PLAYBOY
All-Americas Wayne Mass and Harry
Olszewski (pronounced O-sheff^ski). The
defense, led by tackle Butch Sursavag
will be mean and tough. Which means
that colorful coach Frank Howard
should be spitting tobacco juice on the
greensward of one of the major bowls
next y first.

North Carolina State lost its eı
backfield via graduation, so the Woll-
pack won't score as often this season.
The defense, however, led by PLAYBOY
All-America tackle Dennis Byrd, will be
nearly impregnable. State will have two
offensive backfields, one with power run-
ning and the other featuring speed and
quickness. If they can get the job done,
Wolfpack will challenge Clemson for
Conference honors,

Wake Forest will be very much im
ved, thanks to experienced returnees
nd an excellent group of sophomore
Brightest new faces will be runners Buz
Leavitt and Ron Jurewicz. If the quar-
terbacks produce this year, Wake Forest
will be a strong dark horse.

Duke's opponents aren't expecting the

242 Blue Devils to be very potent this year,

probably because of the poor defensive
showing of last season. This could be a
fatal oversight, because the '67 squad
will have a wealth of experienced depth
and will be more accustomed to coach
Tom Harp’s system of play. Fullback J
Calabrese, who is a cinch to become
Duke's all-time Ieading ground gainer,
will give the Blue Devils a thunder
running attack.

Virginia tailback Frank Quayle may
turn out to be the best runner in the
land before his college career is finished.
If the Cavaliers can muster a passing at-
ck to keep the defenses honest, Quayle
will run amuck this season. The Mary-
land squad is suffering though the un-
precedented ex par g under
its third head coach in as many years.
The or ional problems of such a
ituation, plus the lack of ou
runners, will hurt the Terps. Quarter-
back Alan Pastrana is a good one, but he
won't get too much support.

North Carolina suffers from lack of
a speed, the loss of lust year's one
un Danny Talbot, a serious lack.
of depth and the problems of adjusting
to new coach Bill Dooley. South Caro-
lina should be stronger, now that the
Gamecocks have had a year to get used
to couch Paul Dievel’s system; but
depth is a serious problem, because the
rookie crop is weak. Dietzel will be able
to muster 22 adequate starters; injuries,
however, would be seriously crippling.
Warren Muir, a uansfer Irom Dietzel's
Army squad, could be a torrid fullback.
ast Carolina may not be the best
team in the Southern Conference, but
it should be the winningest. Coach
Clarence Stasavich fidlds a gutsy old-
fashioned single-wing offense so rare that
opposing delenses are befuddled by it
The Pirates will have тоге manpower,
thanks to a best-ever group of sophs; and
if a good tailba key to a
singlewing attack) can be found, this
could be year for the Pirates.
Strongest team in the Southern Соме
ence should be West Virginia, but its
schedule will probably preclude а win
ning season. Coach Jim Carlen has
stalled a slashing and ingenious style of
play to take advantage ol elusive runner
Garret Ford. Look for the Mou
to upend som
season, Willi Furman
Richmond will all be stronger, while
Davidson, The Citadel and VMI could be
spectacularly improved. Two neweomers-
—end Mike Kelly at Davidson and line-
backer John Small at The Citadel—are
said to be the best linemen ever to enroll
ї their schools. Look for the Southern
Conference to be better balanced than
ever before.

ng

ic
mart

Virginia Tech will again be laden
with talent. Last s entire starting
backfield is gone, but the replacements

seem even better. The defense should be

much improved and the schedule is ar-
ranged in favor of the Gobblers’ getting
through their first seven games undefcat-
ed, By midseason. coach Jerry С
borne. one of the ablest young mentors
in the county, should have welded
Tech's best-ever team.

Tulane could be a big surprise to ever
опе this year, except for the teams who
played them in '66. A rebuilding pro
gram has been in progress for а decade
and it began to pay off last year. Oppo
nents have grown accustomed. to think
ing of the Green Wave as another small
ipple on their schedules, but all that is
being changed. Quarterback Bobby Du-
hon is probably the best executor of the
run-pass option in the country and de
Lenses find him almost impossible to stop.
Last season's weakness, the defense, has
been bolstered by several beefy пем
comers. Look for Tulane to return to
the proud place it once held among the
nation’s football powers.

Florida State will ag

п field а wither-

ing me. The Seminoles’ big
problem is finding the manpower to re-
build the offensive line. Flanker Ron

Sellers is the best receiver in school hi
tory. Last year, the Seminoles were vul-
nerable to their own poison; but the
leaky pass defense should be patched up
by opening kickoff. Southern Miss has
fielded the nation’s leading defense th
ош of the past four years. but the attack-
ing troops will have to carry more of the
load this time.

Coach Bud Carson, who takes over
from Bobby Dodd, is only the fourth
head couch in Georgia Tech history. His
first team should be as versatile and ex-
citing as last year's edition, which won
nine games. The big difference will be
the schedule, which 15 murderous—espe-
cially at the end of the season, when the
Yellow Jackets will play Miami, Notre
Dame and Georgia, consecutively. А po-
tent offense built around performers
such as paser Kim King and fabulous
lback Lenny Snow will make the
cts dangerous to even their strongest

J

foes,

Nebraska has dominated the
Eight in recent years with as persistent
regularity as Oklahoma once did. The
Huskers’ strangle hold should be broken
this year, however, and Colorado is the
team to do the job, The Bullalos were the
best team in the Big Eight at the end of
last season and should be even stronger
this fall, The greatest improvement
will be at quarterback, where a healthy
Dan Kelly will compete with newcom
Bob Anderson, who could be sensational
in his first year. Another supersoph,
Monte Huber, will be at slot end, and
these two could well form the greatest
passing combo ever at Colorado. In
short, the Buffalos should take it all.
The sudden and tragic death of Okla-
homa coach Jim Mackenzie, whom

Big

“I had no idea that a bell captain had the authority to marry people!”

243

PLAYBOY

THE NEAR WEST

BIG EIGHT
Colorado 91 Oklahoma State 64
Oklahoma 73 lowa State 55
Nebraska Kansas 37
Missouri 64 Kansas Stale 19
SOUTHWEST CONFERENCE

Texas 82 Texas Tech 55
Texas AEM

Texas Christian 46
Rice SMU 37
Arkansas 5 3 Baylor 37

MISSOURI VALLEY CONFERENCE
Memphis State 6-3 — Cincinnati 54

North Texas St. 6-3 Louisville 55
Tulsa 64 Wichita State 37
INOEPENDENTS
Houston 73 West Texas St. 64

UTEP B

‘TOP PLAYERS: D. Anderson, B. Anderson, Cooks,
Huber (Colorado), Liggins, Shotts, Hinton
(Oklahoma); Mey! Gregory (Nebraska);
ШУЫША Lischner (Missouri); t
wood, Young, Kolb (Oklahoma St.); $
Muldrew (lowa SL); Sweatmen (Kansas),
Ozvis (Kansas St.); Gilbert, Bradley, Robert:
son Mesas): Moorman, Krueger, Hargett,
Housley (Texas A&M); Shelton, Winston,
Benningfield (Rice); Ruple, Cooper (Arkan-
sas); Tucker, Gilbert, Scovell (Texas Tech);
Gresham, Bratcher (TCU); Levias (SMU);
Pipes, Maxfield (Baylor); Rushing, Winkler
(Memphis St); Crittendon, Eber (Tulsa);
Greene, Russell (North Texas St); Eckman,
Meltzer (Wichita St); Neidert, Harmon
(Louisville); Amburgey, Cook (Cincinnati);

McVea, Hebert, Stotter (Houston); Stevens,
Carr (UTEP); Siymekowski (West Texas).

knowing Qin had EE the Bear

stunned. and ЕЛЫК йа aus
practice. New coach Chuck banks
inherits a team deep in quality backheld
talent. The big problem is to replace the
serious losses from two lines that were
already not PLAYBOY All-
America guard Стапу geins is a
most a one-man defensive line and hi:
presence will give help where it is
needed most. The schedule is a little
leaner this scason, so the Sooners should
have a good усаг.

Missouri's siti
verse: many able linemen but few good
offensive backs. Gary Kombrink returns
at quarterback, but he is a better runner
than a passer, and fullback Barry Lisch-
ner is questionable because of knee sur-
gery. Other than these two, all the attack
troops will be recruits and reserves. The
defensive fr Ш need overhauling,
too, so Missouri will have to chalk off '67
as a rebuilding year.

Nebraska returns only eight of last
season -two starters, Thi
uon isn't quite as impoverishing in Li
coln as it would be in most schools,
because coach Bob Devaney always has a
deep bench. But the Cornhuskers have
no experienced quarterback on hand,

244 and there is no indication that anyone is

in sight to fill the big shoes of Bob Chur-
chich. The Huskers have emerged from
two consecutive New Years dates with
Alabama looking rather slow and
and with much tarnished pride.
quently, coach Devaney is turning to
smaller and faster players and a morc
wide-open style of play.

Oklahoma State's team was largely
peopled with sophs last year, but they
came on strong at the end of the season.
A years ripening will make them
ent. The Со
have at last arrived and will be a
ficant factor in the Conference race.

Iowa State will be more of a running
team and will return to the tough-minded
brand of football that characterized
the "Dirty Thirty” squad of a few years
ago. Both Kansas and Kansas State
have new coaching staffs who have in-
herited squads that are green and thin.
Furious rebuilding projects are under
way at both schools, but. neither should
show much progress this year, If the
Kansas State line can give tailback Cor-
ius Davis some blocking. he could
some surprise games for the

tongher and more consi
boy

Three years! absence from the S. W. C.
throne room is enough for Tc
Though coach Darrell Royal has a
dearth of interior linemen (which will
probably cost him a couple of games), he
has harvested two bumper crops of yea
lings. The '67

ert, who is the slickest runner in the
Southwest, and Bill Bradley, who could
turn out to be the best q ick any-
where if he avoids the injuries that
plagued him
Longhorns won't outmuscle anybody, but
they will be agile, fast and clever ir true
Royal style.

Texas’ severest challenge seems to
come from Texas AR
aren't doing any prem
but they are convinced that this is their
year. Indeed, coach Gene Stallings, а
toughasnails guerrilla-warfare type, has
assembled more quality football players
at College Station than at any time since
the halcyon days of Bear Bryant's rei
. Edd Hargett is said
by some to be the best passer in cow
country, and fleet Wendell Housley
be running behind a ma offensive
line peopled by such as Mo Moorman
and Rolf Krueger. The Aggie offense will
be hard to stop and the defense will be
mean. So look for the Aggies to be a
strong contender for the Conference
championship.

Rice should be almost the same
dass. The Owls had incredibly bad luck
in ‘66 and must have been the best 2-8
team in college-football history. Eighteen
starters return, along with some classy
new receivers to pep up the passing. The
Owls are hungry for vindication and they

should е new coach Harold Hagan
look like a genius his first season.

Arkansas suffered uncommonly from
diploma atuition. The greenness will
hurt the Razorbacks most in the passing
game and in the offensive line. A couple
of snappy new tailbacks—Russell Cody
and Mike Hendren—will keep the Ar-
kansas ground attack lively, but quarter-
back Ronny South (who saw no action at
all last year) will have to come through
if the Porkers are to have a winning
n. It will be a rebuilding year in
Fayetteville.

Texas Tech's strength last year was
the attack, and all but one offensive
starter returns. Another good omen for
the Raiders is the fact that added depth
will probably prevent a repeat of last
season's disastrous string of injuries to
the defense. A little luck could put the
Raiders in the thick of the Conference
race.

n almost total lack of offense ham-
stung Texas Christian last year. The
blocking is improved now: the Toads
have four of the best runners the
and new quarterback Dan
looks from here чиге All-
American. TCU opponents aren't cxpect-
ing the Toads to be very strong, but that
could be a dangerous oversight. Says a
spokesman, “We're hiding behind a log
this year." Look for the Toads to booby-
trap somebody.

SMU graduated nearly all of the best
players from the '66 championship team.
"The replacements are raw and untested.
"The Mustangs have some throwing talent
on hand, however, and Jerry Levias
is а sensational receiver and runner. So
expect the SMU attack to be wide open
and exciting.

Baylor will have a respectable defense
(if injuries don't riddle it as they did last
усаг); but passer Terry Southall and
nearly all his receivers are gone, lew
the offense somewhat emaciated.

Tulsa and North Texas State seem to
have the best shots at the Missouri Val-
ley Conference champi
ly because new member 2
will not be eligible to compete for the
title until ‘68.

If Memphis State had had any kind of
pasing game in '66, it might well have
gone undefeated. Nineteen starters re-
turn for this year’s hostilities and a new
aerial attack is in the offing. All this could
indicate a banner year for the Tigers.
The squad is heavily loaded with senior
—always an ominous danger signal—
and senioritis could spoil chances for the
season in years,

North Texas State's offense is geared
to passing; and since green and untested
quarterback Steve Ramsey will be at the
controls, anything can happen to the
Eagles. New coach Rod Rust inherits a
talented young squad, though; and if the
sophs jell soon enough and if the breaks

This is Wrens Powderkeg Blue Shirt.
You can almost hear the cannons г.

E

Powderkeg Blue with stripes of MacDaid of Princeton and New Haven °
Pioneer Pumpkin ог Pioneer Pine. їп Candlestick Chambray. About $8.50, en t Б
‘Traditionally styled by Douglas slightly higher in the West. Diet MSSTPO FS лты Н.У 10018

PLAYBOY

*Has it euer occurred to you that he might be vight
and all the rest of us wrong?”

of the game fall right, the Eagles could
field another fine team.

Tulsa's problems remain the same: a
weak offensive line and an enormous but
slow defensive wall that is impenetrable
to a straighton rushing attack (few
backs can pick their way through all that
tonnage) but cannot stop speedy outside
runners (last year, Houston scored 73
points against Tulsa, most of them
around end), But if the blocking cin be
upgraded, the passing offense will а

spectacular.

innati has a no-nonsense new
coach, Homer Rice, who takes over a
squad that suffered lust year from in-
experience, injuries and extreme morale
problems. In spring practice, all three of
these liabilities seemed cured. If the
passing comes through, the Bearcats
could be a dra ally improved team.
Look for coach Rice to emerge as one of
football's most brilliant young mentors.

Louisville needs a quarterback. If
they find one, the Car will be re-
spectable. Otherwise, trouble. Wichita's
severe depth problem seems to have
been partly solved and the Shockers
have a fine passer in John Eckman. All
the elements are present for Wichita to
be the surprise team of the Conferenc

Houston still has the best collection
of speed merchants in the Southwest,
best of whom is PLAYBOY All-America
halfback Warren McVea. The g

246 and power running won't be quite up to

last year's par, but the defense will be
better. Houston's biggest advantage,
however. is the Astrodome, where the
Cougars play six games. Actually, the
Astroturf is very much like grass; how-
ever, opposing coaches and players spend
so much time telling one another that it's
tough to play on that they actually talk
themselves into believing it. Last year
Memphis State proved to all that Hous-
ton could be beaten on the rug. Never-
theless, it gives Houston an edge when it
plays at home, although the edge is more
psychological than physical.

Coach Bobby Dobbs has really
brought the University of Texas at El
Paso (formerly Texas Western) out of the
woods in two years, and UTEP should
have another banner year. Billy Stevens,
who has thrown 40 touchdown passes in
two years, returns for his senior year,
and he has the greatest battery of re-
ceivers in the school's history.

Now that fancy paser Hank Wash-
ington is gone, West Texas will depend
mostly on its truly awesome ground
game led by Mercury Morris and Albie
Owens. Much will depend on the develop-
ment of a potentially outstanding group
of sophs and junior college transfers,

Southern Cal should regain domi-
nance of the Pacific Coast this season,
though UCLA and Wa:
stiff competition. Rating the power po-
tentials of Western teams is made addi-

tionally difficult because most of them
receive generous transfusions of talent
cach year from the scores of junior col-
leges in the West. Herein lies one of the
keys to Southern Cal's prospects, be-
cause the Trojans have what they needed
most: a blazing breakaway halfback in
the person of О. J. Simpson, who was
the most sought-after junior college
transfer in years. He will be part of a
race-horse backfield that will make the
Trojan offense formidable. The schedule
is horrendous; but if the depth problem
can be solved, the Trojans will win more
than their share of games.

Coach Tommy Prothro insists that this
will be a rebuilding year at UCLA, but
Prothro's rebuilding teams have a way of
looking as good as his preconstructed
ones. PLAYBOY All-America quarterback
Gary Beban is a running threat, as well
as the best long passer in the nation. He
teams with a set of speedy pass receivers
who will break many a game wide open.
The September 16 game with Tennessee
may tell the season story for both teams.

If experience means anything—and
we think it means a lot—Washington
will be much improved. The sputtering
offense should be more consistent and
coach Jim Owens always fields a dogged
defense. The Huskies look good on paper
and we have a hunch this could be their
big year.

THE FAR WEST
PACIFIC EIGHT
Southern Cal 8-2 California
UCLA 13 Oregon
Washington -3 Stanford
Oregon State — 5.5 — Washington St.
WESTERN CONFERENCE
Wyoming 91

Brigham Young 5-5
Arizona -5

Arizona State
Utah

New Mexico
INDEPENDENTS

New Mexico St. 82 — Idaho
Colorado State 72 Pacific
Utah State 64 Айг Force
San Jose State 6-4

TOP PLAYERS: Yary, Young, Simpson (Scuth-
em Cal); Beban, Manning, Purdy (UCL
Wea, Cope, Thompson (Washington); Preece,
Enyart, Nelson (Oregon St); McCaffrey,
McGaffie (California); Smith, Blanchard
(Oregon); Nye, Washington, Buehler (Stan-
ford) Middendorf (Washington St), Kick,
Washington, Dirks (Wyoming); Odle, Boyett,
Roberts (Brigham Young); Nemeth, Gardin
(Arizona); Culp (Arizona St.); Gehrke, Chow
(Utah); Vallez (New Mexico); Reed, Layton,
Van Dyke (Colorado St); Olivas, Gonzales
(New Mexico St.); Staley (Utah St); Hol-
man, Scrivner (San Jose SL) Ulrich, Thie-
mens (Idaho); Banks, Locatelli (Pacific);
Starkey, Turner (Air Force).

Oregon State will be relatively green
this year, but look out for next year.
Coach Dee Andros has reaped two talent-
laden crops of rookies in а row and the
incoming freshmen are said to be the best

yet. Some of this prime becl may ripen
early, however, and the Beavers could be
potent by season's end.

California seems to have won the jun-
ior college transfer sweepstakes th
year. Twenty-three good transfers team
with some good sophs to give the Bears
so much new talent that anything might
happen before season’s end. The run-
"^s weakness, will be dra-

matically improved.

Oregon's new coach Jerry Frei will

field a young but
improve as

alented squad that

will the season progresses.

soph group
зо last

"s graduation loses will be
ud to replace. Depth and team speed

€ the big questions. Washington State's
main problem is uying to give some
punch to last year’s impotent offense. In
any event, the difficult schedule will
make it а long rebuilding year in
Pullman.

Before the first kickoff, the Western
Conference race looks like по contest.
Wyoming ran over, around and through
everybody (except surpi Colorado
State) last year, scoring an incredible
327 points to the opposition’s 69. The
Cowboys look just as lithe and tough this

sing

season. Tailback Jim
quarter horse and punt return specialist
Vic Washington can fl!
Brigham Young's inside attack, the
backbone of the Cougar offense, was
deaned out by graduation, No quarter-
back of Virgil Carter's class is in sight,
either. Arizona professes a desire to at-
tain national prominence and so
scheduling some of the big boys—this
year, Ohio State, Missouri and Indiana.
New coach Darrell Mudra debuts with
an experienced squad, brilliant passer
Mark Reed and а brane hotshot
runner, junior college transfer Ron G:
din, who is touted as a future superstar.
An incredible total of 66 uansfers and
sophs will give the Wildcats a surfeit of
manpower. Too bad they cin put only
11 on the field at one time.
State will be stronger, but so
will the opposition, Neither Utah nor
New Mexico will have the manpower to
cope with its schedule,
Colorado State stunned everybody,
cluding us, by fielding a powerhouse
last year. Most of the key personnel re-
turn, including great tailback Oscar
Reed. If a good quarterback сап be
found, the Rams will be even beter.
jew Mexico State is also
again, thanks to a promising group of
5 nd Idaho
fortunes than last

loaded

transfers.
should

year. when both teams suffered. badly
from

the senior syndrome. At Utah
new coach Chuck Mills shook
down the crew severely in spring prac
tice, and Aggie fans should notice a lot
of difference this fall. A good batch of
s should be of much help at

San Jose fans insist that Danny Hol-
man is the best quarterback in the coun-
try, and we know some pro scouts who
agree, New halfback Mike Scrivner will
help take some of the pressure off Hol-

nd a bigger and deeper offer
line will give him the protection he sore-
ly needed last year. The Spartans could
upset some of the big teams on their
roughestever schedule. Pacific is in the
middle of an ambitious building pro-
gram, fed mostly by mammoth junior
college transfers, and much progress will
be apparent this year-

Air Force has been emaciated by a
crippling series of injuries and the sec-
ond cheating scandal in three years. If
corrective surgery to some key players
stands ир, the junior birdmen may be a
little better this year. Another problem,
when playing the bigger teams, is size.
ighter-plane cockpits are not tailored to
960-pound tackles.

So much for prolog:

begin.
E

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247

248

A SMALL BUFFET

(continued from page 110)
finds himself nose to nose with a thor
oughly desirable girl, he could give les
sons in silence to a Trappist monk.
Then I saw Lalage Delmore coming
down the stairs from the tower. I recog
nized her, in spite of distance and the

dying light, by the ridiculous way she
moved. J thought she intended to walk
that last mile across the patio to the ter-
race, but when she got to the bottom of
the stone staircase, she sat down and be-
came a breathing stone herself. I decided
to join her

velous eyes were having
ipht. "You don't have to
alk to me," she said. “Not after what
I——" She stopped and gnawed her
lower lip. But she also shifted her body
to make а place for me. I sat down
She was wcaring a dress Her calves,
which I now s; for the first time and
which I'd have thought would be pipe-
stems, were in excellent shape. “After
you what?" 1 asked.
"D was rude.”
“Not to mc. Want a drink? Cigarette?”
Lalage shook her head. “I don't like
tics" she said, as though this cx
plained the double refusal. "It's going to
in, too. Good."
What do you like, Lalage?”
“The things I like don't count. They
don't have importance, my mother says.
I flipped my cigarette at the nearest
tree. "Such as
“Who was she:
I should have known. To sail with
Lalage Delmore was to risk uncharted
shoals. You believed you were on a true
course until you looked at her compass
and found the needle pointing west-
southwest. “She?”
“The girl. The one with my name."
"Oh, that Lalage.” L guzzled the rest
of my rum and set the glass against the
balustrade on the lowest step. “Weren't
you ever curious about your name
before?

"No," she said. "But I am now. So
bout the girl. And my
I was amazed to

please tell me all
name. Only —
that she was ready for tears
tease me. Please don't

I felt such a flood of pity for her that I
was embarrassed. “No, I won't," I said,
my eyes fixed on nowhere, “but ГЇ have
to tell it in my own way. И you get the
shell open, though, the nut'll be inside.”

"Thank you.” A whisper.

о, 1 wouldn't tease; but, yes, I'd
have to tell it in my own way. And if
that wasn’t a properly serious way, it
was because I wasn't a properly serious
person—even when I was at my most
serious. I've always warmed to old
Vespasian, so long in the Roman army,
so long in command of bloody men in an
especially bloody time, who could have
been a cold and cruel presence on the

Only don't

Palatine—except for a sense of humor,
which really means a sense of the unim-
portance of almost everything; and who,
when he calmly faced up to the fact that
he was dying, could still stick his coated
tongue in his cheek, and wink, and
murmur: “Poor me! 1 think I'm becom-
ing a god.”

The sad, awkward girl beside me
wasn't becoming anything, except more
perplexed and lonely. As she moved into
each fresh morn

ng. she found that the
doors of the day were locked against her
and that under the gorgeous sylvan
scenes painted on their surface, they
were made of tempered steel.

“Well. the original Lala
“the real-McCoy Lalage, was a beautiful
reek girl. She was a high-brackct slave,
like as not, which means her life was the
top of the bottle, all cream and по curds.
In these days, а good-looking female
slave, if she played her cards right, had
it made—as we used to say around the
Christian Endeavor Society. She'd have
more fun than the emperor's wife, that's
for sure, anl”

“What emperor?

"Man named Augustus. A complicated
character. He had all the virtues except
the right ones, which means that the
present world would be made to order
for him. But while the first Lalage was
on this side of the onestrand river, kick-
ing up her pretty pink heels, Horace
went plumb off his rocker for her. He

even

ge.” 1 began,

My jaw chopped. After it finally drew
itself back up against the rest of my
skull, 1 asked: “Where in God's name
did you go to school?”

“The wrong ones, I guess. All over the
place.”

"Well, you might not've heard of him,
even if you'd gone to the right ones.
They've blown the whistle on teaching
the classics in American schools, bless
their little technological hearts. Anyw:
Horace was a pretty fair country poet,
with only one bad habit: He wrote a
Latin that’s almost untranslatable—due
to the subtlety of the word order and
various other matters that 1 won't go
into. And it just so happens that I cin
quote some of what Horace said about
Lalage number one, because 1 got my
education a whoop and а holler before
science lowered the boom on the human:
ities. Le Ke

I intended to recite the last Sapphic
strophe of the great ironic ode beginning
Integer vilae, lines Vd once known as
well as my own пате, if not better, I
ed up to where darkness and leaves

s see, now

were blending together to [orm the
equivalent of /—0 while I eased out of
a deep, reclusive alcove of my memory
the words that bad waited there, un-
spoken, for so long.

“Pone sub curru nimium propinqui," 1
heard myself saying, "solis in terra—uh—

terra——" Something was wrong. "Solis
in—in terra—uh—terra—in——" Noth-
ing more remained. Nothing. The rest,
whatever it was, was gone, all go
utterly gone, the resounding fine lines
dissolved like leaf smoke in late October,
gone like the young Sam Culloden who'd
loved them, Something was indeed ter-
ribly wrong—much, much more than a
mere forgetfulness.

I felt a thinning of the air, grabbed
the balustrade and pulled myself to my
feet. After a moment 1 relaxed my grip
d damned near fell headlong. 1
clutched the chill stone again and dung
to it until the world made sense, more
or les. As I ly came into
focus, I saw that she was standing, too.
And she was asking: "You're not sick, are
you? You're not sick?”

из the altitude, The—damned
altitude.”

"Yes, the first few days,” she said.
‘Somebody should've told you

“I'm all right now, though.
air. "Em fine. І mean it.

I gulped

“Then—what was it, what you said?”
"What 1 Oh, the Latin. Look,
Lal
times my memory
right hand in a silly and meaningless
езине and grinned in a silly and mean-
ingles way. “ ‘Bye. I went on.
“Got to track down those Saint Bernards
Jock, too. He's the brain. You ought to

him, Meanwhile, darling, hold

I took maybe steps, then
stopped and looked back at her. “Your
cyes—" I said. "Your eyes are the most.
beautiful on any living woman. In case
nobody ever told you.”

With another ridiculous flap of my
hand, I began my return trek across the
tndles plain, pointed in the general | „е are undertogs as young as today.
direction of Cape Town. As alive as you!

1 finally got to Cape Town. “Where's | Like the Hip Brief. Low-slung to match
old Jock?" 1 demanded. “My son, my | the current low waistlines. $1.25 in
son. He used to be here, just before the | ы. геа, ьаск ог мһіе.
battle. Mother! 1 counted muzzles: | т. егес Вгиќе Н EL
Mother Young, Father Young, luscious | BETER
Miss Young. But no Master Culloden. а bit longer. Just $1.50.

"Why, he went looking for you, Other Life styles to see: Hi-neck Bo'sun
Young said. “Some time ago. Where's Shirt, sleeveless Surf Shirt, turtleneck
your drink? d Alpine Shirt, Coxn Shirt with mock

To sit is amazingly casy. АП you have turtleneck, Slim Guy Racer, Brief and
to do is withdraw support from a few Tee Өзун Был
joints here and there among your knees | BERAET
and hips and—plop!—down you go. ОЁ
course, it helps to have a соссух like
white leather, and if what you land on
isn't harder than concrete, and especially

it you're feeling no pain to begin with. a
Suddenly, there I was, arranged in 1]
comfort on the grass.

"Mustve left it someplace,” I said, P underwear by
filling the lower part of my face with my
new clownish smirk, “Saint Bernards Jocke
must've swiped it.” aoe
“What were you drinking before the
robbery?”
“Huh? Oh, тит. Straight. Three thick
fingers. And one ice сире, One lonely, | ccm 249

ge, ГШ tell you tomorrow. Some-
I flapped my

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meltable,
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opaque ice cube. Lonely—
coumtersign in the camp

tonight. General Burnside’s order
Се

Mr, Culloden what һе wants,
Young told his daughter. She
scrambled to her fect and made for the
terrace.

"Whats grow
Academe, Youn;

“Why, the mixture as before, what
When we're not reading, we're
writing something for someone else to
read. Never a dull moment
Never an exciting one, either.” Mrs.
Young said

"Thats because we're a balanced lot,
Helen,” Young said. “Followers of the
golden mean.” He added, wryly: “On a
pinchbeck standard.

"Domibus negala!” The forgotten
phrase of Horace had broken loose in my
brain. Before 1 could citch myself, I'd
said the words aloud.

Young was amused.
against. inflation?

No, the countersign for the camp to-
morrow night. General. Hooker's orders.
Too bad, ГЇЇ be on pass.”

So will the camp.

“You two sound like an Tonesco first
draft,” Mrs. Young said. "Not that I can
imagine such a thing.” Her tone had
dropped а fast 40 degrees, but the
curled-down smile was still there.

Young ignored her. "And what's new
it were, entertainment

ng in the groves of

else?

“Your charm

businesslike, Mr. Bones. Not
very entertaining. But we have to draw
the line somewhere, don't we? After all,
it’s these bleeding hearts who think
audiences ought to be entertained, who
causc——" I heard someone closing in
on me from the direction of the terrace,
undoubtedly a pretty Saint Bernard
named Nan bearing rum to succor the
lost traveler. "Well and good," I said
aloud to myself, “and not à moment too
soon."

“You're right, Sam, not a single mo-
ment.” Polly was standing beside me,
soberfaced. "Aren't you hungry, Sam?
The clans are starting to gather.

"I didn't hear any pipers,” I said
sullenly. "Besides, Nan's bringing me a
drink.

“No, she isn't. I saw her on the terrace
and told her never mind.”

"Taking a lot on yourself, weren't
you?"

“No more than what I hope you'll take
on now." Polly glanced quickly at Helen
Young. ^Or have you given up handling
my plate at buffets”

“Ah, no, Polly," I sa
your plate. Sure I will.

"There was guile in my guilelesness.
Cunning old Sam saw several ways by
which he could toss off another rum
while Polly thought he was filling her
plate with ham hocks or collard greens
or whatever it was that the Widow Del-
more had placed on the altar of the

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Great God Buffet. “Wait here,” cunning
old Sam said, taking care that his voice
didn't show how sly he was. “II be back
two shakes.” And cunning old Sam
nbed to his feet, only to discover tl

it’s when we're togethe
Polly said, slipping her arm through
mine. So we set out abreast for the table
of мше. It ted to rain before we got
anywhere near the terrace. And the hell
of it was, Га left the Ark in my other
is.

Two maids scuttled twittering through
the rain. y snatched up whatever
came to band from the bullet table, then
tottered into the house again under loads
of earthenware and food. My chore way
to salvage the liquor. There was so much
headles-chicken confusion going on at
the time that cight or so ounces of rum
found a home in the Culloden belly, un-
perceived. After all, Polly couldn't be
everywhere at once, and she was then
helping the Widow Delmore and he
muchachas arrange another buffet table
inside.

On my last slosh through the deluge,
a couple of slim forms swept past me
tandem, Their brows were lowering
their nostrils dilated, their lips presed
tightly together. The first man's angry
mask was topped by a mop of curly
chestnut hair. The mask of the other, also
angry but less securely in place, was set
beneath hair that was long and lank and
black and greasy. Both wore what
amounted to /
pples rested on foulard stocks, their
skimpy torsos were enclosed by mauve
form-futing sl remained
had been poured ішо much-too-tight
black jeans that buttocks
stick out like sore thumbs, On their fect
were ropesoled canvas shoes. They were
cach about 30 years old. A talkative
raindrop, trickling down my car lobe,
said in passing that they weren't what
you might call heterosexual, that they
were in the middle of a fearful tiff and
that they would never be on
speaking terms—or not for a whole Пош
anyway.

Twenty

15, and what

made their

again

minutes later, when I'd
crossed. the living room from the bullet,
juggling Polly's pl ad my own, 1
floated into a chair across the rectangu-
lar table from her to find that Curly
Chestnut had made a place for himselt
and some chicken mole at the end near

est the terrace doors, Another couple—
the Gutierreres—was between us. I
found out that the table-crasher’s name

was Francis St.

Ibans and he dabbled
in, inting. He also had
а Bri that he must have
learned through some correspondence
school; the nearest he'd ever been to
England was thumbing through the
pages of Queen.

it were, р

sh accent

"I want him to have all the things I missed.”

His fellow tiffer, Philip Payne, who
as, as it were, a poet, was seething in
the Covenury of Marian Delmoi table,
the middle of three that had been scc up
hurriedly in a living room that was only

few inches lower and a few degrees
colder than the main chamber of Mam-
moth Cave. Payne, who looked several
days dead. came from а moldy mansion
that stood across from the decaying
courthouse in the rotting county seat of
Upper Piraeus, Alabama. I had never
seen апу of his poems in print. I don’t
think he had, either.

А pair of oddly shaped women, one а
polyhedron, the other an isosceles trian-
gle, were also at the Widow Dclmore's
table. They were halfhearted Lesbians
who considered themselves ceramists, or
maybe ceramists who considered them-
selves halfhearted Lesbians. They ed
in a lide finca and made litle post-prc-
Columbian pots without the usc of a
little potter's wheel and decorated them
with little gruesome designs that could
ir litle primary-
beth Piper and

never see 45

only have come from th

color nightmares.
Barbara
again, even on a TV rerun, They were

altus would.

known, up to several kilometers away, as
“Pepper and Sali."

Beyond this cheery Youngs
and а dry-brained retired lawyer and his
wife, named McDermott, were breaking
bread together; and next to the nubile
daughter of the Youngs, his hide as
silent as the rind of the expanding uni
verse, but with a clanging brain and ket-
tledrum heart making loud music in his
core, huddled a son of mine named Jock
Culloden, as miserably happy аз any
adolescent would want to be.

There I wa

асу,

—doomed to spend ап
hour or more in small talk with Francis
St. Albans and Señor and Mrs. Gutierrez.
The only satisfaction І got out of being
introduced to them by my occasional so
Polly Lockridge Cullode
was that during the nods and becks and
introductory smiles, I was able to fill my
glass with wine—my water glass, that is,
which was impressively bigger than the
wine one, Polly objected in the only way
she could, by kicking me high on my
shinbone. The objection wasn't over
ruled, merely ignored.

1 secretar

The other couple at our table, whom I 25;

PLAYBOY

purposely called Señor and Mrs. Gutier-
rez, were, in their mating, as ancient as
the human race and as modern as tomor-
row afternoon at five o'clock.

Angela Ammon DeKalb Pierce Gutier-
rez nee Wade, had burst from her
chafing girlhood as a lusty ripsnorter out
of Pittsburgh who might have been used
as a character by Rabelais, had she been
French and horn not too many years be-
fore her actual birth. You knew she was
rich, because she banked a great deal of
her money on her fingers and neck.
Around 1928, when she bounced into
the bed of the late DeKalb, the second
and richest of her four husbands, she
was a damn-thetorpedocs, fullspeed-
ahead heller, with a wide, ted
mouth and a broad, uncolored view-
point, Now, however, the Jazz Age body
had been caught up in a fleshly inflation,
the mouth was no longer so painted or
so wide, the liprouge hues werc muted,
and the broad viewpoint was narro
against her will, with each runaway ап:
ious month. The anxiety came from her
having to do unrelieved guard duty
rious Dianas who kept
trying to slip into the preserve for a shot
at Lorenzo Gutierrez, her tame young
unicorn.

He was known as Lencho, which is
the Mexican nickname for Lorenzo, and
he was the only beautiful man I've ever
seen. If every above-ground Mexican
male were one quarter as stunning as
Lencho Gutierrez, there wouldn't be an
unmarried woman to be found in the rest
of this bloated, beefcake world. They'd
all be flat on their backs, love-drunk and
goggle-cyed, somewhere between the Rio
Grande and the Guatemala border.

When we were introduced, he gave

me по more than a glum nod, which
struck me as peculiar. Among the few
things I'd learned about Mexicans was
that, as heirs of the Spanish language
and culture, they have a i
for use in social intercourse, with elabo-
rately polite formulas for such major
events as introductions and, like as not,
for such minor ones as shooting you
dead in the street.
m surprised, señor”—I said to Len-
cho, whose bored face should've stopped
me, but didn't—"surprised that Holly-
wood hasn't snapped you up.”

He turned empty eyes away, and an-
ger put a hammer lock on me—not only
because of the man’s seeming rudeness
but also because I'd let myself come out.
with such a tattered cliché

Then Angela W. А, DeK. Р. Gutier-
rez broke the hammer lock. “Mr. Cullo-
den,” she said quietly, "my Lencho's
twenty-cight years old. He's been mar-
ried to me for three years. During those
three years he's heard English being
spoken constantly, and he’s had every
chance to learn it. But as of July 1966,
his entire English vocabulary consists of

252 three words, Yes, No and"—A strange

smile touched her lips—"and Don't. He
comes out with any one of them at ran-
dom, and sometimes the result is funny
and sometimes it's shocking. Although
mostly when he hears English being spo-
ken he—well, you'd have to call it with-
draws. Lencho knows what's best for
Lencho."

"Ah. does he, Angel?” St. Albans
drawled. "Does he cross-his-pretty-red-
heart truly know what's best for Lencho?
Or do уои?”

“L think so.” She was concentrating on
her plate.

Her lackluster response irritated St.
Albans, who'd evidently expected a ver-
bal Roman candle. “Well,” he went on,
"all J can say, Mrs. Den Mother, is that
my /іпса a hotbed of English Бе
spoken, so he can come and withdraw
with me any time that tickles his fancy.

‘That'll do, Saing” Angela's glance
was like а fishhook, blue-steel and
barbed. “Don't bring your dirty linen to
any table I'm at.

“No fear, ducks,” St. Albans said gaily.
“It's at the next table and it's going to
stay there." He called to Mrs. Delmore:
“Marian, I'm depressed, and it’s because
that grotesque daughter of yours isn't
here to amuse me. Don't you let her ap-
pear in public anymore? Do you keep
her caged these days? And if she is in a
cage, doesn't she have feeding hours like
the rest of the rare nals? I tell you,
Marian, I miss that questing beast. The
zoo's simply nothing without our Ugly.”

“Ugly eats in her tower now, Saint;
an Delmore sa ither that, or
she creeps into the kitchen at some
ungodly hour and nibbles cheese.”

Like a great ungainly mouse, yes!”
St. Albans crowed. “And she lives in a
mouse tower. Oh, so perfec

“TIL be content if she never shows her
face in the main house," the Widow Dcl-
more said. "Especially if I have guests.
It's so easy, you know, to get the wrong
impression—not about her, but about
her mother. She's reached the stage
where I can't do a thing with her, not
that I ever could. She's become зо silly
and willful—the most willful, silliest
creature Christendom.

“Аһ, not quite,” St. Albans said, “
quite, lovey. 1 know a person who's far
more willful.” His smile, as friendly as
the working end of a wasp, darted to-

ward the pallid Payne. "And infinitely
sillier.”
Pepper and Salt, strangely, were

shaken into a defense of the poet. “Oh,
at's not fair, Saint!” exclaimed Pepper.
"And it's not true!" cried Salt.

St. Albans went cold on them. He de-
cided that the subject was closed and,
wiping everybody at the next table from
the slate of his interest, sprinkled a pinch
of attention on what his plate contained.

It was an unconsciously wise move.
My hope that he and Payne would start
a ruckus was dying, and its place was

gradually giving way to а desire to shove
St. Albans’ face into his food. After all,
Marian Delmore was owed a scene; and
he who scened this night was quit for
the next.

If Td been standing at a window
watching it, the rain would have been a
fused and furious mass; but to a man sii
ng with closed eyes, it became a form
of hypnosis, untouched by human hands.
Then, filtered through an immensity of
bone and an opiate of water, I seemed to
hear my name being spoken on a moun-
taintop in Tibet. lt was so far away, so
faint, that 1—

1 was still trea water when а
strange woman floated by. I grabbed her
by the neck and held her head above the.
current until I recognized her as Angela
Gutierrez. “Sorry,” I said. “Thinking of
something else

“I asked you, Mr. Culloden,
many films you'd written.

‘Never counted them. Eno
a more sensitive man, though
“Fifteen,” Polly said.

how

sh to Kill

Angela leaned toward me. "Did you
ever write a film that Robert Taylor was

? Lencho's a great Robert Taylor fan?
At the mention of the actor's name, Len
cho nodded. with more vigor than I'd
thought he had.

І ran through my cre
"Let's see, there were three, I think, alto-
gether. There was Whaler, and The
Hunters of Kentucky, and—and—oh,

mentally.

sure, Falaise Gap.”
After the Guticrtezes spoke rapid
Spanish to each other, Angela said:

"Lencho liked them all very much, very
much, indeed. And he'd like to know,
were you—are you—a friend of Robert
Taylor?”

Гоо bad, but I only met him once, on
the sct of Whaler.” Angela translated for
Lencho, who thereafter paid no more
attention to a man who'd written three
pictures for Robert Taylor and yet had
only met him once.

I refilled my giant wineglass, which
had cleverly emptied itself, to the tune
of another kick from Polly. This one
landed on my instep. Her reward was a
pitying smile from her ригироп hus-
band; and I was in the act of rearranging
my facial muscles, when one of the ter-
race doors was flung open and Lalage
came backward into the room, struggling
to shut an umbrella that was too wide
for the door. Her dress clung wetly to
her thighs and the leather of her thin
Capezios was waterlogged.

“Оооо, look!” St. Albans cried. “IF it
isn't Miss Uggh

Nobody else said anything until La-
lage got the umbrella down and
closed the door against the wild rain,
Then Marian Delmore said coldly: “I
thought you were staying in the towe
Nothing, of course, about the girl's
drenched dress.

“I was hungry,” Lalage said. She

"Is that your final decision, Miss Ashcroft?”

253

254

ignored everybody else in the room and
Кей to the end of the table where Pol-
ly and I were sitting. “I know you, Mrs.
Culloden,” she said to Polly, "but you
don't know me. I'm Lalage Delmore.”

“Little Miss Uggle came from St.
Albans.

Yes, of course," Polly said. “But, dar-
ling—you're soaked. Aren't you afraid
you'll catch cold?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lalage said. She
swallowed, and went on hurriedly:
“Could your husband come to the buffet
with me”

Polly glanced appraisingly at her hus-
band before saying: “I don’t see why
not.”

“Thank you." Lalage waited while I
got up. I was delighted to find that there
wasn't as much instability around as
there had been. The quadruple shot of
80-proof vaccine, plus the 12-percent
boosters, had helped the old stability
а lot.

At the buffet table, however, Lalage
wouldn't let me serve her. "I'm used to
getting my own food,” she said. "But I
wanted to talk to you.”

(0:
8

ae.

o reason why you should,

“To tell you I love you,” she whi
pered.

"No reason why you” was coming
out automatically when something, from
somewhere, hit me a karate chop under
the jawline. "Lalage"—1 mumbled as
soon as I could focus again. “Child—
please don't kick that word around. Do
you know what love is, Lalagc?

“What I'm feeling. Very warm and
steady and calm.”

“You can feel that way any summer
afternoon, as long as nobody gives the
hammock a shove,” I said. “Love's not a
dead calm. It's ol

Lalage was occupying herself with
putting things on her pla
my eyes. “Apex sounds right,
"I don't know the word, but

I sigh
saying “Nice pussycat” to a lion I'd met
оп the Colosscum sands, “Another thing
you don't know,” I told her, “is that after
the apex, it's downhill. All the long, long
way.

She decided then that perhaps she'd
benter look at me, and 1 nearly drowned
in those eyes. While going down for the

+. . and this machine enabled us
to get rid of fifteen accountants.”

third time, І remembered a smooth side.
overarm I used to do, and I made for the
edge of the pool.

"Prove it,” said Lalage.

I was nowhere near the edge yet, but
the nymph of the pool had grabbed my
ankle and the smooth side-overarm was
going to waste. “I can't," I said. "No-
body can, or ever could. But maybe I
can give you ап idea of what happens
during the rise and fall of that particular
barometer. So listen very carefully, La-
lage. When two people are in love, cach
with the other and beyond all thought or
caring, they're given this one perfect mo-
ment. It may not be longer than a few
seconds, and it's never longer than a few
hours; maybe, with very great luck, it
might last through a whole afternoon, ог
part of a summer night. While it’s hap-
pening, of course, neither the man nor
the woman knows it, but it's perfect, and
that’s the important thing. And sooner or
if you've been one of the lovers,
you'll discover that those few seconds, or
those few hours, were the most magnifi-
cent seconds, or the richest few hours,
in your entire life. But" I stopped. 1
didn't like the turn that my thought was
about to take.

"But what?”

І Jet my thought take the turn, every
tire screamin ‘But there's a catch to
I said. "And the catch Once
you're over the shock of knowing how
perfect that one moment was, you get
the sustained and killing shock of know-
ing that everything since has been im-
perfect and, no matter how long you
live, nothing will ever be perfect again.”

“Oh,” said Lalage, very quietly.

I murmured. “Аз I

“That's all I want,

she said, "Oh, that
helps! Now Yd like—that is, may I sit
with you and your wife?”

"Wouldn't have it any other way.
Come on.”

Lalage brought her plate back to our
table and I lugged a heavy antique chair
over from where it was brooding be-
neath a bad 17th Century painting of
the Assumption. I placed the chair at the
end of the table opposite St. Albans,
which put Polly at Lalage's right and me
at her left. "My father named me La-
lage," she said as she sat down.

“Bully for him," I said. Polly, who was
puzzled, kept silent. The Gutierrezes ig-
nored her presence, and St. Albans, after
a single disapproving stare, preferred to
pretend that she didn’t exist.

“He was very tall and very thin, my
father," Lalage said, "and he
handsome at all.” She paused, then went
on, speaking in a low-pitched, га
monotone, addressing no one in particu-
lar and directing the words at her plate:
"He gave me his worst features my
mother says. But he couldn't have, be-
cause he had to wear glasses all the time,

wasn't

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and I have very good eyes. His family
owned a big department store in Cle
land. Delmore and Company. but every-
body called it just Delmore’s. My mother
says my father didn't want to work
there, all he wanted to do was sit
around and read, But he was an only
child, like me, and my grandfather had a
suoke and died. so my father worked
there for a while until he died, too. Until
he was killed, I mea

“Killed?” Polly gla
she fixed her ga

Lalage nodded ЖЕУ, then con
tinued, the scarcely audible words tum-
bling over each other: “Yes, and on my
sixth. birthday. He'd left the store carly
to be at my party, and the phone call

ame right in the middle of this game we
were playing, And then all the children
went home. And I remember how hard 1
cried, but I don’t know if it was because
of what happened to my father or be-
cause they stopped the party before the
ice cream and cake. I had a funny pink
paper hat on. Six years old. You don't
understand things when you're six vears
old. Or any other time, I guess, not real-
ly. But I kept that funny pink hat for
years. And then one night, when I was
alone in the house, I took it from this
special secret place and tore it into little
pieces and flushed them down the toilet
in my mother’s bathroom. She used to
keep a picture of him around, my mother
did, and Га sit and study it for hours.
His mouth was very gende, in the pic-
turc, and his cyes were, too, under the
glasses. He sweet and loving and
d to me, but he t happy, not
very often. My mother says she told him
a thousand times not to drive so fast, but
he never paid her а bit of attention, she
says And I think he was unhappy be-
cause in his heart he hated he nd
maybe he got this fantastic idea that if
he drove fast enough. and closed his
eyes real tight while he drove, then he'd
leave her and everything else he hated
behind him forever—and then there'd
be just him and me. Do you suppose
that’s what he was trying to do, at the
end there?’

"Yes," I sud, “I think thats what he
was tying to do. And I wish he'd been
able to bring it off.”

Lalage wok a deep breath, “Bur you
could say he killed himself, couldn't
you?” she asked.

"Not with conviction, I couldn't" I
told her. "No." I then tossed off the rest
of my wine. As І pecred over the rim of
the glass, ] saw the unassuaged eyes of a
feather-boa constrictor named St. Albans
fixed on a helpless baby bird named Sam
Culloden. 1 stopped scratching for bugs

as

ced at же before

в the gravel, cocked my downy head at
him. opened my tiny yellow beak, and
chirped: "Something bothering you,
Buster?”

І instantly received another kick from
Polly. which hurt. Her earlier salvos had

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PLAYBOY

merely bracketed the target. This one
was zerocd in, and she was firing ten-
inch Delman shells.

“Sorry, Sam, an accident,” she said
“Incidentally, you haven't eaten а bite.
She didn't sound at all like a battery
commander.
m sav

1g my strength for dinner,
said.

“Tell me, Mr. Uggledon,”
drawled. “Why did vou.
"Speaking to me?” 1 cut in sharply.
“Trying to, Mr. Uggledon. Why did
you come to Maldita—with the whole
wide world to pick from—or don't vou
remember?
No matter what lay behind the words,
St Albans remark was jus what the
doctor ordered. While 1 placed my glass
on the table, 1 sent the baby bird scurry-
ing behind a big rock, from which he
popped back immediately with а com-
panion—a razorbeaked, ncedle-taloned.
golden cagle that considered any snake
up to, and including, a feather-boa
strictor as a kind of si
oddly enough, was
loden. The golden eagle spoke very soft-
ly to the snake: “What would you

me to say. Mary?

"Something sensible. Unless you
beyond that—Mr. Ugeledon

“Now, Saint . . .” Angela Gutierrez’
voice trailed off in a semiwarning.

“I came to Maldita," I said, still very
softly, “because they told me, Heracli-
tus, they told me the town was awash
with people I'd be apt to like, ten or
twelve hundred of them. They also
swore on a stack of André Gides that
there wouldn't be any fruits of the earth
їп Maldita, because they favored the
assier-crassicr places, or maybe the bell-
bottom hangouts like Acapuko. They
also told me- у:

"Sam!" lt may have been only а whis-
per, but it Polly's goddamnyouto-
hellsamculloden whisper, which is never
hissed around Hook and Ladder No. 7
unless the fifth alarm has rung. 1 had
enough sense remaining for it to stop my
slide when I wasn't quite halfway down
the pole.

“And what can 1 do for you, my dear

п guest?” T asked her.
n go to the buffet and bring
me some more ham, not much, а nub-
bin, maybe, and a litle of that won-
derful salad, and one piece of bread,
unbuucered.”

I must've slipped into one of my more
hideous faces as I got up, since he was
suddenly too busy counting his fingers,
all 15 of them, to take the trouble to an-
swer me. So I hauled anchor, put on sail
and pointed my bow for the bullet.

I had just reached port when the loud-
est clap of thunder that the world has
heard since Sodom and Gomorrah got
their comeuppance shattered the air
above the house, so dose that it ar-

и. Albans

ous caviar
lso named Sam.

256 rived simultancously with its lightning.

‘The room shook,
and everybody in it. A terrified wa
came from what sounded like Mrs,
McDermott and a variety of caterwauls
from the other guests. Hot on the heels
of this exdamatory period followed a
moment of awful silence, honoring the
unknown thunderbolt, During this quiet
time, I bowed my head at the bullet
table cenotaph and tried to find the ham
and the salad and the bread. 1 wasn't

as did everything

having much luck. Everything had
begun to resemble ratatouille.
Then I heard St. Albi Well,

Miss Payne, that was your real Big Dad-
dy cursing you! He hates you, Miss
Payne, because you're disgusting, the way
everybody hates you because you're dis-
gusting. And liter tonight, Miss Payne,
yes, later to"

“Oh, stop it, Saint, for pitys sake,"
Payne squealed. His voice cracked on

pity." He was a very frightened unpu
lished poet.

There was another thunderdap, not
quite overhead and not quite as loud as
the first, but a substantial citizen, never-
theless. Before its rumbles had run their

course, St. Albans was back in the
sidesaddle and riding an octave higher:
“Tonight, and 1 mean it! If you dare
to come back to the finca, if you dare to
пу to come in, if you even dare to so
much as knock on the door, Vll take my
letter opener with the jade handle and—
oh, damn damn damn it——"

The lights had gone out.

“Now please sit right where you
1 heard) Marian Delmore say.
candles ате in the cocina. Lalage, go
the kitchen and tcll the girls to bring
out the candles. They never do anything
unless they're told. Please stay right
where you are, the rest of you.

I was aware that nobody was going
along with the Widow Delmore's last re-
quest, though. Invisible people were
pushing back invisible chairs and stand-
ing up and talking to other
people with invisible cheerfulness. “When
they do go out," an unseen McDermott
said, "they invariably choose a time
when you're at dinner, or when you're
shaving."
n-vairiably," replied a deep Pepper-
ish voice. Somehow, I was glad to learn
that the Pepper not only ate dinner but
shaved.

For a millisecond, lightning made it
midday in the room. At our table, every-
one was standing, even Polly, who'd felt
her way to a terrace door—everyone,
that is, except St. Albans. He was loung-
ing in his ch nd, by God, while he
was shrieking at Payne, he was calmly
picking at his chicken mole,

That lightning-fathered glimpse of
him, making cool little stabs with

fork while doing his best to destroy an-
other human being, was what made me
open the ball Actually, I wasn't con-
cerned about Payne, or even about my-

sclf. My decision to do something sprang
from the rude and unnecessary remarks
that St. Albans had passed about. Lalage

ier. For all I knew, uttering rude re-
about Lalage when she wasn't
round—or, if one wanted to пу for
a double point score, when was

she
around—might have been the favorite

indoor sport of Maldita, But I was
explicably protective, all of a sudden, to-
ward that sad young mock-up of a wom-
an. For, although I'd reached a dead end
of creativity myself, she'd made up her
mind to see me as her father—and God
knows that fathers have to create, on a
Heshly plane, or they wouldn't be [a-
thers. And she also had told me she loved.
me—and, no matter how incompetent or
useless a man is when a woman tells
him she loves him, he damned well has
to go to bat for her, even long after the
game is lost and beyond any rally, ev
when she doesn't realize he's stepping
st a spitballer. I figured I owed La-
litte something, if only because
iw things in me that weren't there.
ance is mine, sayeth the Cullo-
den. I headed back to the table Vd
started from. In the utter dark

1 couldn't have crossed that room more
precisely if I'd been escorted by a kennel
of secing-eve Saint Bernards with arc
lights in their mouths. And when I had
my hands on the table, I wasted no time.
There was а slop and sliding of earthen-
ware, а daner of crockery and а crash
of smashing glass, and one scared yelp
from St. Albans zs he and his chair
tumbled backward to land hard on the
floor. “Compliments of the ones, you
third bastard,” I said, and let the table
drop.

When the legs slammed down on the
floor tiles, it sounded as though they
cracked a few. Then, while a babble got
under way among the unseen and unsce-
ing witnesses, I managed to get out of
the Delmore living room and out of the
Delmore house. The rain faded and died
as I stumbled toward our rented finca,
nd all the lights of. Maldita came on
again as I passed through our gates. I'm
at а loss as to how I got home in an ob
sidian night, over unfamiliar terrain, but
I did. I swung it somehow.

As soon as I switched on the night-
table lamp, T spotted a scorpion, the size
and weight of a short lobster. brooding
оп the wall above the bathroom door. I
suppose I should've sent it to join i
cestors—but in the long run, you can't
kill everthing, even with a license. So
al I did was strip, drop my soaked
clothes on the floor and crawl into the
antique, creaky bed. 1 left the lamp on,
d 1 left the scorpion where it was—a

brown, disgusting, poisonous, mindless,
antediluvian horror.
Just like the still-blocked drunken

writer who'd let the critter live.

y
Men

$) Playboy Club Nems f

oi

VOL. п, мо. 86 ©!

PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL, INC
STINGUISHED CLUBS IN MAJOR CITIES

SPECIAL EDITION 4

YOUR ONE PLAYBOY CLUB KEY
TS YOU TO ALL PLAYBOY CLUBS

SEPT. 1967

USE YOUR PLAYBOY CLUB KEY IN 17 CITIES!

CHICAGO (Special) —Playboy
Club keyholders are now enjoy-
ing the pleasures of the good
life as Playboy sees it in 17
cities—and more are on the
way! When you enter The
Playboy Club and present your
key-card to the lovely Bunny at
the door (she may be a Play-
mate from the gatefold of
PLAYBOY), your personal name
plate is placed on the lobby
board and closed-circuit TV
telecasts your arrival to friends
who may be awaiting you.

Among the many pleasures
abounding in Playboy's fun-
filled clubrooms you'll find
spirited variety shows, swinging
jam sessions, epicurean buffet
items at luncheon, dinner and
late breakfast at the same price
аз а drink (enjoy lunch at the
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row without having the same
entree twice!), king-sized
ounce-and-a-half-plus drinks,
sizzling steaks and filet mignon
with all the trimmings.

Order your Playboy Club
Key today and you can be sure
of obtaining the $25 Charter
Key Fee Rate still in effect in
many areas of the United States,
The $50 Resident Key Fee is
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Missouri and Mississippi. (See
coupon for Canadian Key Fee.)

Don't waste any more time—
apply for your Playboy Club
Key today and each time you
visit the Club of your choice
you'll enjoy the atmosphere of
а friendly private party at
which you are an honored guest.

NEW IN LOS ANGELES

Bunny croupiers teach roulette,
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the Los’ Angeles Playboy Club
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Bunnies serve frosty

refreshers brimming with ап
half-plus of the finest liquors to guests in Playboy's lively clubrooms.

ounce-and-

Playboy Club Showrooms Spotlight
Largest Talent Roster in the World

CHICAGO (Special) — The
most exciting shows in town are
at The Playboy Club. New
shows appear in the showrooms
every two weeks featuring tal-
ented newcomers and top talent
you've seen on national tele-
ision shows and in movies, al-
lowing keyholders to sample the
best in nightclub entertain-
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big bands, novelty acts, vocal-
ists, comedians, jazz musicians
апа folk acts presented through-
cut the circuit of Clubs.

‘The Kirby Stone Four, Tony
Bennett, Della Reese, Prof. Ir-
win Corey, Herb Jeffries, Da-
mita Jo, Jerry Lester and Dick
Contino are among the many
established personalities who
trod the Playboy boards. Happy
revues like The Session—star-

USE YOUR ONE KEY AT
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PLANNED — Cleveland

Denver - Lake Geneva, Wis.
Washington, D.C.

ring Rob Reiner (Сане son),
Larry Bishop (Joey's son),
Rick Dreyfus, David Arkin
(Alan's nephew), Bobbi Shaw
and Marj Dusay—Who, Me?,
Bottoms Up!, Whing-Ding!, The
Good Life and Get the Girl have
gleefully traveled many Clubs,
while the big bands of Dizzy
Gillespie, Terry Gibbs, Red
Norvo, Gerald Wilson, Woody
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nard Ferguson have received
rave notices in each hutch they
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‘The relaxed and friendly at-
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New Playboy Hotel
To Have Eight Dining
And Drinking Spots
CHICAGO (Special) — When
the new $9,000,000 Playboy
Club-Hotel at Lake Geneva,
Wis. opens in 1968 you'll be
able to enjoy eight dining and
drinking spots. —Eyc-opener
breakfasts and sumptuous buf-
fet lunches and dinners will be
on hand in the Living Room.
The rustic Playmate Bar will
offer fireside lunches and din-
ners featuring sizzling steaks
and chops. The VIP Room will
present an elegant eight-course
gourmet dinner and the Pent-
house will combine fine food
with a star-studded floor show.
You'll find tempting hors d’-
oeuvres and man-sized drinks at
the Bunny Bar and more to sip
and sample at the Sidewalk
Cafe The Pro Shop and Ski
Lodge will serve hearty snacks
and robust thirst quenchers.

Whatever your mood—lavish
or casual—it can be matched
at one of Playboy's eight dining
and drinking spots.

Keyholder mixes his own Make-It

Martini—six ozs. of his favorite
brand of gin or vodka, imported
Vermouth with atomizer, assorted
olives, lemon twists, ice—all for $3.

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В то: PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL П

р. Рве Building. 919 N- Michigan Ave, Chicago, Illinois 60612 П
Gentlemen:

fT Wen to apply tor key privileges. П
WARE PLEASE PEINT;

Coan d 1

[|

gp Cram П

W omes Ц

П I

oy TATE TF CODE g
U.S. Key Fee is $25 exceptin Arizona. Florida, Minois. Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana,

В Missouri and Mississippi, where keys are 350. Canadian Key Fes: 530(Cana. Ш
dian). Key Fee includes $1 for year’s subscription fo VIP, the Club magazine. The

E Annual Account Maintenance Charge, currently 35 in U.S. and $6 (Canadian) Ш
in Canada, is waived tor your first year. 1

Е

qp OD Enclosed fina s. O Bil me for S. 1
D 1 wish only information about The Playboy Club. 286

bee ee ee eee ee ee юш шш тш тшшш eee =Й

PLAYBOY

258

WELCOME,
HOLY WOMAN -~+ =
DIRECT DESCENDANT Am RALPHIE!
OF GOD ON MY FATHER'S „ДВ
SIDE, TWICE REMOVED. PULL LIZARDS!
UP MY FACE AND SIT DOWN FREAKING
ON IT SO THAT 1 МАУ GAIN AGAIN!
SHIMMERING INSIGHTS INTO
THE MOLECULAR STRUCTURE
OF YOUR SACRED SIT- SACK.
HALLELUJAH? WE WILL
NOW JOIN IN SILENT
BY HARVEY KURTZMAN AND WILL ELDER р RESPONSIVE
WITH RUSS HEATH AND LARRY SIEGEL READING

HILE VISITING STUDIOS ON THE WEST. Gone

OUR HEROINE DROPS IN ON STUDIOD:
RALPHIE TOWZER, WHO IS CURRENTLY АТ
TENDING CLASSES AT THE UNIVERSITY OF
BOOKLESS, CALIFORNIA. LIKE SO MANY COLLEGE.
STUDENTS" TODAY, HE IS STUDYING THE THREE
P'S - PROTEST, PACIFISM AND PSYCHEDELICS,
AND MAJORING IN ADVANCED KICKS —

DON'T.
MOVE,
HOLY
WOMAN. LET.
ME PLASTICIZE
vou ANO

[2

PLACE YOU.
ON THE LEDGE
OVER THE DASH-

BOARD OF MY
LIFE 50 THAT
NO EVIL SHALL
BEFALL ME
AS | DRIVE
THROUGH ALL
THE ESTABLISH
MENTARIAN
STOP SIGNS
+> THE
CONGREGATION
WILL NOW
RISE AND
CHEW
INDIAN
NUTS.

RALPHIE!
IT'S МЕ,
ANNIE =
DON'T You

RECOGNIZE

А757"

ГМ BEING

DON'T LEAVE ME.
ALONE WITH
REALITY!

MY DRIED SEAWEED Р

HEY, RALPHIE! JOIN
OUR PANTY RAID! IT'S A
NEW Kick f

IT'S A NEW
KIND OF PANTY RAID.
WE STEAL PANTIES WITH
GIRLS IN THEN!

(YAWN)
CHE irs

R ion
ЩА FULFILLING.

K!
TURNED OFF ---1 EVERYTHING
MUST HAVE PSYCHEDELIC 15 BECOMING
REINFORCEMENTS! WHERE ARE NORMAL AGAIN +
MY MORNING-GLORY SEEDS?

YOU'RE

RIGHT, ANNIE Р

BURNINGS = POT LSD
THEY'VE LOST THEIR
MEANING FOR ME.

OFF-CAMPUS
SEMINAR WITH

PROFESSOR
THEY'VE LOST
THEIR KICK!

TIMOTHY
CLEARLY.

V Peace ок | ШЕ
WELL KILL / К!05.

WERE

HO HUM =~
THE CHAIN -IN
KICK! COME. WE
MUSTN'T MISS A
‘SECOND OF PROFESSOR
CLEARLY’S SEMINAR.
1 FEEL THAT TODAY
HE MAY OPEN THE
GATES TO NIRVANA,

PLAYBOY

YOU NEVER KNOW
WHAT TO EXPECT AT ONE
OF PROFESSOR CLEARLY'S L|
GATHERINGS, ANNIE. d

BELIEVE ME,
RALPHIE + NOTHING CAN 6E
WILDER THAN THE GATHERING |
WENT TO АТ А MOVIE PRODUCER'S
НОМЕ LAST NIGHT. WOULD YOU BELIEVE
IT IF | TOLD YOU THAT GIRLS WERE
RUNNING AROUND IN NOTHING

BUT PANTIES AND BRAS ?

OH, ME =
ANOTHER NUDE SEXUAL”
FREEDOM PARTY. THIS
MAKES FOURTEEN THIS.
WEEK ALONE.

FREEDOM
PARTY...
THIS ONE 15

DIFFERENT.

GOOD AFTERNOON,

STUDENTS = THANKS AN IRE E
TO uso, youve Jn EI
EXPLORED YOUR
CELLULAR WISDOM —

YOU HAVE
LEARNED ТО
TURN ON, TUNE IN
AND DROP OUT f
ARE YOU ABOUT
TO FORGE AHEAD
TO NEW EUPHORIC
HEIGHTS?

NUDE, PERMISSIVE
SEX, FLAGELLATION,
SHOE FETISHISM,
POT AND PEYOTE

PARTIES 2

SURPRISE!
WE'RE ALL
HETEROS f

SOME MAY SAY WE HAVE EXPERIENCED:
EVERY KICK AND THERE'S NOTHING
LEFT! WHERE CAN WE POSSIBLY
GO NOW FOR BEATITUDE 2 * WELL,
1 элү TO YOU, OUR FUTURE LIES

IN THE PAST! ARE You READY
NOW TO REACH FOR ELYSIUM 2

PERMISSIVE-
SODOMY STAG
PARTIES WITH
REAL STAGS?

SH!
HERE COMES
RALPHIE

I'M SORRY =
BUT THIS {5 ALL SO
TRITE! THESE PARTIES =
EVERYTHING THEY'VE
LOST THE KICKS. THERE'S
NOTHING LEFT. EXCEPT
“> PERHAPS.
PROFESSOR
CLEARLY —

PROFESSOR
CLEARLY’S
COMING f

WE HAVE FOUND THE NEW ART OF OP
AND POP BY TURNING TO THE TRIVIA OF
THE PAST. WE HAVE FOUND THE NEW
MUSIC OF КОСК “№ ROLL BY TURNING
TO THE PRIMITIVE RHYTHMS OF THE

PAST. AND NOW FOR THE NEW

AMUSEMENT - WE MUST ONCE

AGAIN TURN TO THE PAST —

NUDE, GOLOFISH-VIOLATING,
FLOOR-LAMP-DEFILING , LUST-
MURDER PARTIES, WITH OUR

PARENTS WATCHING ?

DOWN IN THE
MEADOW WHERE THE
GREEN GRASS GROWS,
THERE SAT JIMMY
WITH A MARBLE

UP His NOSE-

Two FOR
FLINCHING!

BACK,
SANORA,
TWO PACES.
YOU DION'T

SAY
"AAY rng

BASE
STICKER!

BASE

STICKER!

THIS
15 THE
ULTIMATE

KICK,
RALPHIE?

261

PLAYBOY

262

PLAYBOY
READER SERVICE

Write to Janet Pilgrim for the an-
swers 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 spe-
cialized items advertised or edito-
rially featured in PLAYBOY. For
example, where-to-buy information is
available for the merchandise of the
advertisers in this issue listed below.

nian” uritur

Miss Pilgrim will be happy to answer
any of your other questions on fash-
ion, travel, food and drink, hi-fi, ete.
If your question involves items you
saw in PLAYBOY, please specify page
number and issue of the magazine as
well as а brief description of the items
when you write.

PLAYBOY READER SERVICE

[O Э yrs. for 320 (Save 310.00)
O 1 yr. for 58 (Save 52.00)

[J Payment enclosed Гу bill later
то:

name

address

су stale zipcode по.

Mail to PLAYBOY

Playboy Building, $19 N. Michigan Ave.
Chicago, Illinois 60611
220

nL‏ لا

NEXT MONTH:

FASHION FORECAST

“THE NEW WAVE MAKERS"—A SYMPATHETIC PORTRAIT OF
THOSE FAR-OUT AND FANCIFUL WEST COAST HIPPIES, DIGGERS
AND NEW LEFTNIKS WHO SPARK TODAY'S YOUTH SCENE—WITH
TEXT BY HERBERT GOLD AND PHOTOS BY GENE ANTHONY

“THE CRAZY ONE"—WHEN HE WAS BAD, HE WAS THE MOST
INEPT AND MOST COMICAL BULLFIGHTER EVER TO APPEAR IN
THE RING; WHEN HE WAS GREAT, HIS PASSES WERE BETTER
THAN ANYTHING YOU'D EVER SEEN—BY NORMAN MAILER

“THE FOX"—REVEALING ON-THE-SET PHOTOS OF THE UPCOM-
ING, SEX-DRENCHED MOVIE BASED ON A D. H. LAWRENCE STORY

MICHELANGELO ANTONIONI, THE AVANT-GARDE DIRECTOR
OF SUCH ACCLAIMED AND MOCD-EVOKING FILMS AS LA NOTTE,
RED DESERT AND BLOW-UP, TALKS ABOUT HIS LIFE, HIS LOVES
AND HIS ART IN AN EXCLUSIVE PLAYBOY INTERVIEW

“THE POP-OP CAPER"—A KINKY, KOOKIE PRIVATE-EYE
MURDER-GO-ROUND FILLED WITH A RIOTOUS PLENITUDE OF
BLONDES AND BULLETS—BY WILLIAM F. NOLAN

“THE 1968 PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL"—YOUR PERSONAL
BALLOT IN THE TWELFTH ANNUAL PLAYBOY POLL TO SELECT THE
TOP PERFORMERS OF THE PAST TWELVEMONTH, NEW MEMBERS
OF PLAYBOY'S HALL OF FAME AND RECORDS OF THE YEAR

“COMPUTERS AND ‘THINKING MACHINES’ ”—ТНЕ AMAZING
THINGS THEY CAN DO AND THE SIMPLE THINGS THEY CAN'T
ARE EXAMINED FROM OPPOSING VIEWPOINTS—BY ERNEST
HAVEMANN AND MAX GUNTHER

“PLAYBOY’S FALL AND WINTER FASHION FORECAST"'—
OUR SEMI-ANNUAL GUIDE TO CORRECT MEN'S ATTIRE FOR THE
COMING SEASON—BY ROBERT L. GREEN

“THE HAT ACT"—IN A HORRIFIC FANTASY WORTHY OF THE
GRAND GUIGNOL, A MAGICIAN'S FAVORITE TRICK GOES AWRY
WITH CATASTROPHIC CONSEQUENCES—BY ROBERT COOVER

Start something new!

Take 100% blue eyes in a field of blonde excitement...a sunlit
Yamaha afternoon...a secluded rendezvous...clear out of sight

a wild scene! Yamaha gets you there with the grooviest off-the-road
bikes anywhere. She looks great on the Trailmaster 100, and you're
in full charge on the new Big Bear 305. Trailmaster goes with
adjustable rear shocks, electric starter, spark arrester and quick-

ling.
‘elf, 90054, Dept, PB

For additional

change dual sprocket. The Big Bear is built for the experienced
rider, offers high pipes, startling torque, a top end in the'neighbor-
hood of 100 and hes the looks of a man's bike. Check ‘em out at
your Yamaha Dealer's...the newest line-up in sportcycling...all
tace-bred from champions... safety engineered. And Yamaha war-
ranties everything...everything except the girl

97

INTERNATIONAL CORPORATION + SINCE 188

PRODUCT OF U.S.A. 100% NEUTRAL SPIRITS DISTILLED FROM GRAIN. 90 PADOF- GORDON'S DRY GINCO.. LTD UNDER. 1

m T ae -
No wonder the English have kept cool for 198 years!

(mix an iced drink with Gordon's to see how they do it)