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ENTERTAINMENT FOR MEN MAY 1971 • ONE DOLLAR 


PLAYBOY'S 
SCUBA-DO! 


A CANDID 
INTERVIEW WITH 
JOHN WAYNE 


TWELVE PAGES 
OF NEW YORK 
BUNNIES 


teal the show. 


BY ANHEUSER-BUSCH, INC., ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI + SINCE 1896 


BROOMSTICKS 


THERE’S A LOT MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE 


Sure we design our slacks for the young guy who wants the newest styles. And this season our 
doubleknits in 100% CELANESE® FORTREL* polyester are the greatest at $18 to $25. They stand 
up to all the action—whatever that might be. Of course, we have other Fortrel® polyester slacks as. 
well, from $12 to $20. Broomsticks slacks, a product of Glen Oaks, 16 E. 34th St., New York City. 


Write us for store nearest you. *Fortre is a trademark of Fiber Industries, Inc. 


Like anything that lets you be 
yourself. 

It happens every time. Get into a 
Mustang and something gets into you. 

Is it because Mustang has more 
rooflines than all its competitors? 

A choice of six different engines? 

Or is it because Mustang offers so 
many options to select from—so many 
ways to make it uniquely, totally 
personal? 

Is it something simple, like an 
instrument panel that gives you 


organized information for a change? 
Is it the proud new profile of 
this Mach I? Is it the NASA-type 
hood scoops and competition 
suspension you get at no extra cost? 
No, Mustang is more. It’s greater 
than the sum of its parts. It’s some- 
thing you have to discover. Like 
yourself. 
Your Ford Dealer will help you 
make Mustang an original creation. 
Ford gives you better ideas. (A 
better idea for safety: Buckle up.) 


Ts No secKer that many of 


PLAYBILL 7; ух power companies 
are under attack for their inability to provide 
adequate current at peak periods. What's surpris- 
ing is that, according to Robert Sherrill in Power 
Play, there's actually a surplus of energy sources 
in the 0.5. The problem lies in establishing an 
eliective distribution network throughout the 
country, Sherrill urges that monopolics on the 
raw materials of power should be more closcly 
regulated and proposes solutions that would per- 
manently end the threat of crippling blackouts. 
Another major social concern, as ecologists point 
out with apocalyptic dismay, is overpopulation. 
Yet, James Collier, in The Procreation Myth, 
offers his studied opinion that, as far as Homo 
sapiens is concerned, sex is—and should be— 
primarily for fun and not for reproduction. Col- 
licr's rescarch will be used for a book he's writing 
that wi ide, he says, “a brand-new approach 
to our nding of the nature of sex and 
what it means to human beings" В пз es- 
teemed У. S. Pritchett, New Statesman director, 
literary critic and author of, among many works, 
Blind Love and Other Stories and the autobio- 
graphical A Gab at the Door, contributes this 
month's lead fiaion, The Trip, recounting the 
settling experience of a prominent newspaper 
editor who's followed throughout Europe by 
strange and inscrutable female admirer. A trip 
of a vastly different nature—via canoe down a 
turbulent river in the Deep South—was described 
by James Dickey in his best-selling first novel 
Deliverance, То better understand the wild coun 
try that is so important in Dickey's work and, at 
the same time, to probe the poet's amazingly 
diverse intellect, Associate Editor Geoffrey Nor- 
mun accompanied him on a similar white-water 
foray and wrote The Stuff of Poetry, which affirms 
that Dickey is, indeed, a rare combination of 
aesthere and athlete, Another rugged individual 
is screen legend John. Wayne, the subject of our 
May Playboy Interview, whose movie heroics and 
publicly voiced beliefs have cast him 
superpatriot Contributing Editor Ric 

ren Lewis spent time with the venerable Du 
at his Newport Beach estate and also in his 
Batjac Production offices. Their resulting dialog 
reveals Wayne's frank, gutinstinct mentality that 
із nevertheless need by an undercurrent of 
deep humanity. There's little doubt that Wayne 
would speak disapprovingly of the revolutionary 


BROWN 


ROSOFSKY. 


PRITCHETT 


E 


COLLIER 
D 
«i 


BRADSHAW. 


= 
NORMAN. 


SHERRILL, 


DEMPSEY, SHEPHERD 
dropouts observed by Garry Wills in his trenchant 
narrative, World 42; Freaks 0. Wills, whose re- 
cently published book, Nixon Agonistes, has been 

ally applauded, is making his first contri- 
bution to PLAYROY. Another escapist group, at the 
opposite end of the sociocconomic spectrum from 
Wills’s Canada commune dwellers, the dhar- 
acters in Т. К. Brown's disquieting tale, Haunts 
of the Very Rich, which concerns three couples at 
a hugely expensive secret resort who encounter 
an otherworklly series of disasters. It's illustrated. 
by Chicago artist Seymour Rosofsky, making his 
eighth appearance in our pages. The unexcelled 
accommodations available in Japan are among the 
country's many attractions highlighted by Associate 
Travel Editor Reg Pouerton in Land of the Risen 
Sun. A rising and stiflingly hot—sun brings about 
an abrupt end to The Unforgettable Exhibition 
Game of the Giants Versus the Dodgers, Tropical 
Bush League, by Contributing Editor Jean Shep- 
herd, which will be included in his novel The 
Secret Mission of the Blue-Assed Buzzard, to be 
published by Doubleday next year. Jean's 13-week 
television series, Jean Shepherd's America, began 
April 11 on the Public Broadcasting Service 
Other staffers showing up this month include 
Associate Articles Editor—and private pilot— 
David Butler, whose “Slow Down, You Move Too 
Fast” reports on the ulcerous atmosphere in an 
airport flight-control tower, and Assistant Editor 
Lee Nolan, Associate Art Director Tom Stacblcr 
and Assistant Photo Editor Jeffrey Cohen, who 
colliborated on an enviable assignment that took 
them to the Bahamas, testing the latest u 
water-living equipment for the feature Scuba-Do! 


uns One Good Тит. George Bradshaw n 
his praynoy premiere in this issue with The Splen 
did Soufflé, which will become part of a book 
The Random to be published in October 
by Harper & Row. Besides authoring several cook- 
books, Bradshaw is a successful writer of short 
мо: his Practice lo Deceive became the screen- 
play for How to Steal a Million, Additionally this 
month, you'll find: our special fashion preview, 
Turned Out for Tomorrow; Robert Bloch's ecric 
story of revenge, Animal Fair; The Swingers, car- 
toonist John Dempsey’s look at the lighter side of 
group sex; and a 12-раре pictorial salute to The 
Bunnies of New York, with whom you can 
spend—vicariously, at least—all your May days. 


3 


vol. 18, no. 5—тау, 1971 


PLAYBOY. 


CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


PLAYBHL. - 3 
DEAR PLAYBOY. " n 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS. aed 25 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 55 
Creative Menswear THE PLAYBOY FORUM. а 63 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: JOHN WAYNE—candid conversation 75 


THE TRIP—fiction У. 5. PRITCHETT 94 


SCUBA-DO!— spors. ssn -3 е эв 


THE PROCREATION MYTH—o -JAMES СОШЕК 106 


THE UNFORGETTABLE EXHIBITION GAME—humor JEAN SHEPHERD 108 


Right Number POWER PLAY—arlicle.__.. е: 


ROBERT SHEFRILL 113 
CURRENT'S FUTURE— projection... . 226 
RIGHT NUMBER —picto 2 115 


HAUNTS OF THE VERY RICH—ficlion — .. —.T. К. BROWN Ш 118 


THE SPLENDID SOUFFLE—food GEORGE BRADSHAW 120 


124 


PAGING MISS PENNINGTON!—playboy’s playmate of the month 


Freaky Football PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor. 132 


WORLD 42; FREAKS O—arfiche а. GARRY WILLS 134 


ONE GOOD TURN—fiction ... BRAD WILIIAMS 137 


TURNED OUT FOR TOMORROW-—atlire 139 


ANIMAL FAIR—fiction_ ———-ROBERT BLOCH 145 


THE STUFF OF POETRY: JAMES DICKEY—personality GEOFFREY NORMAN 148 
New York Bunnies 


BUNNIES OF NEW YORK—pictorial assay... 150 


VARGAS GIRL—pictorial 2... ALBERTO VARGAS 162 


THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY—ribeld classic... 163 


LAND OF THE RISEN SUN—travel........ REG POTTERTON 165 


THE SWINGERS —humo: JOHN DEMPSEY 169 


“SLOW DOWN, YOU MOVE TOO FAST"—arlicle. DAVID BUTIER 172 


Underwater Sports Р. 98 


смелы Orricta PLAYBOY BUILDING, s19 WORTH MICHIGAN AVE), CHICAGO, ILLINOIS воени. METURN FOSTACE MUST AECONFANT ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS AND PHOTO. 
GRAPHS SUBMITTED IF THEY ARE TO Dt RETURNED AND NO RESPONSIBILITY CAN GE ASSUMED FOF UNSOLICITED MATERIALS, ALL RIGHTS IN LETTERS SERT TO PLAYBOY WiLL BE 
TREATED Аз UNCONDITIONALLY ASSIGNED FOR PUBLICATION ARD COPYRIGHT FURFOSES AND A5 SUBJECT 10 PLAYBOY S UNRESTRICTED RIGHT TO EDIT AND TO COMMENT EDITOHALLY 
CONTENTS COFYAIGHT © 197) BY PLAYBOY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLAYBOY AMD RABBIT HEAD SYMBOL ARE MARKS OF FLAYEOY, REGISTERED U.S PATENT OFFICE, MANCA REGIS- 
WADA, MARGUE OEFOSEE. NOTHING KAY BE REPRINTED їн WHOLE OH IN FART WIIMCUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FRON THE PUBLISHER. ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE PEOPLE AND PLACES 
ан THE FICTION AND SENIFICTION IN THIS MAGAZINE AND ANY REAL PEOPLE AND PLACES IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL CREDITS: COVER: MODEL DIANE DAVIES. PHOTOGRAPHY BY J 
3ANKY о ROURKE, OTHER PHOTOGRAPHY AV: BILL ARSEMAULT, P. 3 (2), 111; MYRON BELDOCK, Р, 3. DAVID CHAN. P. 3 152 (а), 136, 150 (з, 160: ALAN CLIFTON. Р. 3; JEFF 
COHEN, P. 3: DAWHIE FLANELAY. P. 160; LARRY DALE CORDON, P- 3, 165, 167 (2)/ JACK MAMILTOK, Р. 75; ONIGHT HOOKER, P 13). CARL IRI. P. 3. JAMES маам. p. » Cay 
DICK NORTON, P. їза; P. POSAR, P- 3, азе. 182-161 (у; з, SEED. P. э; V. SMITH, P. 3 (2): DILL SUMNER, P. 152-184 (3). M. JADDER. f. 3, M. F. WOLFE, 161 


FLAVBOV, WAY. 1971, VOLUME 18, NUMBER 3. FUSLISHED MONTHLY UY FLAYUOY. IN NATIONAL AND REGIONAL EDITIONS. PLAYBOY BUILDING, S19 NORTH  WICHIGIN 
AVENUE, CHICAGO, ILL, 6061. SECONE.CLASS POSTAGE PAID AT CHICAGO, ILL., AND АТ ADDITIONAL MAILING OFFICES. SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE U.S, $10 FOR OME Wwe. 


Sit down 
and be counted. 


F “Why fool around? I want the best, 
so | drink Ballantine's Scotch. Period.” 


The more you know about Scotch, 
the more loyal you are to Ballantines 


. e. А 
Ве a Ballantines st BLENDED SCOTCH WHISKY, BOTTLED IN SCOTLAND. 
86 PROOF. IMPORTEO BY "21" BRANDS INC., NY.C. 


DROP IN 
ALLTHE WAY. 


Drop in to show. 


Making movies was never easier. No threading, no 
winding. Just drop the film cariridge into the Kodak In- 
stamatic M30 movie camera. Then shoot. For less than 

$105 you get power zoom. Reflex viewing. An extra- 
fast F/1.9 lens. And an automatic electric eye. Other 
Kodak Instamatic movie cameras from less than $35. 
Showing movies was never easier, either. Simply drop 
Kodak's new projection cartridge into the Kodak In- 
stomatic M110 movie projector. When the movie ends, 
the film rewinds. Automatically. The M110 takes both 

cartridges and reels up ta 400 ft. For both 8mm or 

super 8. It’s less than $195. Other Kodak cartridae pro- 
iectors from less than $140. 


KODAK MAKES YOUR PICTURES COUNT. 


Kodak 


PLAYBOY 


HUGH М. HEFNER 
editor and publisher 


А. С. SPECTORSKY 
associate publisher and editorial directar 


MICHAEL DEMAREST executive editor. 
ARTHUR PAUL art director 
JACK J. KESSIE managing editor 


VINCENT T. TAJIRI photography editor 


EDITORIAL 

‚ MURRAY FISHER, NAT LEHRMAN 
assistant man editors 

ARTICLES: ARTHUR KRETCHMER edilor, 

DAVID RUTLER associate editor 

FICTION: кои. MACAULEY editor, SUZANNE 
MC NEAR, STANLEY PALEY assistant editors 
SERVICE FEATURES: TOM OWEN modern 


ELDON WA! 


эз; ROBERT L. GREEN fashion 

DAVID TAYLOR fashion edilor, 

DAVID PLATT assistant editor; 

REG FOTTEKTON associate travel editor 

THOMAS MAKIO food & drink editor 

STAFF: FRANK M. ROBINSON, CRAIG VETTER staff 

writers; WENRY FENWICK, WILLIA: 

HELMER, LAWRENCE. LINDERMAN, GRE 

MC NEFSE, GEOFFREY NORMAN, ROBERT J. SHEA, 

DAVID STANDISH. DAVID STEVENS, ROBERT ANTON 

WILSON associate editors; LAURA LONGLEY BATE 

DOUGLAS BAUER, ТОВА J. COHEN, ТЕЕ NOI 

JAMES SPURLOGK assistant editors; J. еми. 
ITY (business & finance), NAT HENTOF 

MICHAEL LAURENCE, RICHARD WARREN LEWIS, 

KEN М. PURDY, JEAN SHEPHERD, KENNETH 

TYNAN, TOMI UNGERER contributing editors; 

MICHELLE URRY associate cartoon editor 

COPY: ARLENE NOURAS editor, 

STAN AMBER assistant editor 

RICHARD м. кове administrative editor 

PATRICIA FAPANGEUS rights & permissions 

MILDRED ZI N administrative assistant 

ART 

xeculive assistant, 

TOM STAERLER associate director; RONALD 

BLUME, ВОВ POST, KERIG POPE, ROY MOODY, 

LEN WILLIS, CHET SUSKI, JOSEPH PACZEK 

assistant directors; SALLY BAKER, VICIOR 

HUBBARD. KAREN YOPS art assistants 


PHOTOGRAPHY 

BEV CHAMBERLAIN, ALFRED DEBAT, MARILYN 

GRABOWSKI asociate editors; JEFFREY COHEN, 

assistant editor; BILL ARSENAULT, 

DAVID CHAN, DWIGHT HOOKER, POMPEO 

FOSAR, ALEXAS URBA staf} photographers; 

CAKL rir associate staf] photographer; 

Mune сотилко photo lab chief; IFO кчы. 

color chief: JANICE BERKOWITZ chief stylist 
PRODUCTION 

JOHN. MASTRO director; ALLEN VARGO 

manager; ELEANORE WAGNER, RITA Ја 

ELIZABETH FOSS, GERRIT НОС assistants 


READER SERVICE 
JANET PILGRIM director; CAROLE CRAIG mgr. 


CIRCULATION 
MAIN WIEMOLD subscription manager; 
VINCENT THOMPSON newsstand manager 


ADVERTISING 


How aku w. LEDERER advertising director 


ROBERT 5. 
business manager and 


vss 
sociale publisher 


PLAYBOY, May 1971, Vol. 18, No. 5. Published. 
monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg., 919 М. 
Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. 


Jaguar, a breed of cat rarely con- 
sidered timid, announces the most exciting 
automotive development in years—an alumi- 
num V-12 engine. 

The logic of the V-12 configuration: 
The V-12 is inherently balanced. Its smooth- 
ness is almost uncann’ 

Significance: This 12-cylinder engine 
idles in near-silence. Its virtual absence of 
vibration may take some getting used to. 

Some specifics: Jaguar’s V-12 dis- 
places only 326 cubic inches and yet devel- 
ops 314 horsepower. The cylinders have a 
very large bore and the pistons have a short 
stroke, to attain higher potential power and 
longer engine life. And the power is deliv- 


"cylinder animal 


cred through an exceptionally wide range of 
engine revolutions. 

An eye-opener: The ignition sys 
is transistorized. It employs a new electronic 
distributor that eliminates all contact points. 
With no contact points to wear or foul, a 
major cause of engine tune-ups is elimi- 
nated. (Incidentally, an out of tune engine 
is a major cause of air pollution.) 

Finally: Jaguar has a fully-independ- 
ent suspension system with “anti-dive” 
front-end geometry. New disc brakes, power- 
assisted on all 4 wheels. And rack- 
and-pinion steering, also power as 
sisted, with 3.5 turns lock-to-lock 


>) Jaguar V- 
and a turning circle of 36 feet. -ANG| 


Incredibly, the Jaguar 2+2, with this 
revolutionary V-12engine,costsonly $7, 325* 

See the 12-cylinder animal at your 
nearby Jaguar dealer. Study the engine. Be- 
cause it's the one you'll be hearing about for 
many years to come. 

For the name of your nearest Jaguar 
dealer, dial (800) 631-1971 except in New 
Jersey where the number is (800) 962-2803. 
Calls are toll-free. 


British Leyland Motors Inc. Leonia, New Jersey07605. 


2 


"Manufacturer's suggested retail price, P.O. Destination charges, dealer preparalion charges, state and local taxes (if апу) по! included. Whitewalls oplional extra. 


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We taught it everything 
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The 450 puts more into one minute than 
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It starts with Focused Flash. Our new 
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As close as 3/2 feet you get a soft, flat- 
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enough light for the whole gang. Anywhere 
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between. 

(Focused Flash uses the new GE Hi- 
Power Cube that was made especially for 
this system. It’s more than twice as bright as 
standard flashcubes.) 

The 450's electronic shutter and electric 
eye control all other exposures for you, auto- 
matically. 

Take candid shots of your family 
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at 1/1000th of a second.) Or indoor 
black-and-white shots without flash. 
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An electronic development timer 


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Focusing? Bring together the two images 
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The 450. Our finest minute. 


The 450 


DEAR PLAYBOY 


EJ sooness PLAYBDY MAGAZINE . PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 N. MICHIGAN AVE., CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611 


THOUGHTS ON THINKING 
My hat is off to Morton Hunt for his 
artide, The Intelligent Man's Guide to 
Intelligence, in the February rLaynoy. It 
is the best popular treatment of a highly 
technical and wildly controversial subject 
I have ever read. And, as author of the 
college textbook Psychology and Life, 
which has sold more copies than amy 
other on the subject in the past 33 years, 
1 have read many such, 
Floyd L. Ruch 
Professor of Psychology 
University of Southern California 
Los Angeles, California 


Hunt's essay is so knowledgeable, so 
comprehensive and so fair that it would 
seem to require no comment. TI 
deserves extraordinary commend 
rests entirely оп the unhappy иш that 
such balanced statements are тате. My 
own comments on the subject have been 
frequently and sometimes brutally mis- 
quoted. In The Social Contract, my con- 
clusions are in total accord with Hunt's. 
Regarding the Jensen report, which sug- 
gests the geneücal inferiority of Negro 
intelligence, 1 wrote: “It is a persuasive 
document, so persuasive that therc were 


those who could provide no better an- 
swer than to threaten Jensen's life. But 
the materials must be regarded with 
care. Are we nuly considering intelli- 
gence, or a capacity to learn according to 
the demands of the materialist American 
environment" I concluded my own re- 
marks very much as Hunt has concluded 
: and 
. and 
until the scientist, without threat to his 
life, is free to explore in all candor 
racial differences, and to prove or dis- 

c inequalities of intelli- 
gence, an observer of the sciences has 
little чо offer. But then, neither racist 
nor egalitarian has much to offer cither, 
beyond emotion.” Let me add one point 
not covered by Hunt: While random 
variation dictates wide diversity of men- 
tal potential among individuals within 
1 interbreeding population, I 
think of no theoretical consideration 
that would point to [erior capacity 
to learn in one race as compared with 
another. Whether in baboon or man, 
natural selection must favor capacities 


prove system 


can 
no 


n 


for survival in a particular environment. 
Differences may evolve just as environ 
ments differ. But the evolution of an 
inferior capacity to learn seems to me a 


natural impossibility. 


Robert Ardrey 
Rome, Italy 
A renowned author and playwright, 
Ardrey has written several widely read 
books, including “African Genesis" and 
“The Territorial Imperative.” 


Hunt's article is undoubtedly the most 
balanced, thorough and competent treat- 
ment of this research area that has yet 
appeared in а popular magazine. The 
students in my upper-division course in 
psychological testing have found it a 
helpful, nd, more impor- 
tantly, an integrative summary of re 
earch and issues in this arca. 

Frank L. Schmidt, Ph. D. 
Assistant Professor 
Department. of. Psychology 
Michigan State University 
East Lansing, Michigan 


n formativi 


Morton Hunt has done a magnificent 
job of reporting on the fascinating and 
urgent debate about intelligence, with 
all of its provoking, balling, challeng 
ing, hopeful contradictions. But 1 
he had not brushed off so quickly at- 
tempts to boost intelligence by enrich- 
ing the environment of young children 
There is more evidence to back the 
gains made by preschool reading and 
mental stimulation, for example, than 
he acknowledges. Most efforts in this 
direction, like Head Start, have bcen too 
little, late and too influenced by 
the social-adjustment philosophy of pre- 
school education. Mental like physical, 
malnutrition cannot be permanently 
remedied by an adequate diet at age four 
alone. The more J learn about the role 
of environment in the creation of intel- 
ligence, the more critical it seems, And 
the more that's discovered about these 
innate physical qualities the more impor- 
tant they appe: 
their interaction is the only viable model 
of imelligence. Our ignorance of that 
ten-billion-neuron computer between our 
cars is still appalling. It’s remarkable 


sh 


100 


- Hunt's conclusion about 


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PLAYBOY 


12 


that for so long we have deceived our- 
selves by assuming we could understa 
the mind, wh noring the br: 
physical organ of the mind. Congratula- 
tions to PLayuoy for running this excel- 
lent exploration of an urgent, fascinating 
topic. 


Joan Beck 
Child Care Editor 
Chicago Tribune 
Chicago, Illinois 


BOSTON BUST 

1 must confess I became a fan of 
Michael Crichton's with The Androme- 
da Strain: but even though Dealing, 
concluded in your February issue, was 
not science fiction (it had its elements 
of fantasy, however), it was most enjoy- 
able. Michael and Douglas Crichton 
hive obviously been in the Berkeley and 
the Boston scencs and know their way 
around. My only complaint is that the 
scene is a little grimmer aud more 
ated, 
e seldom college 
icense, I guess. TI 


ШЕ: 


for a well-told and fascinating story: you 
can't hardly get that kind these days. 
Ray Arnold 
Los Angeles, California 


I have read Dealing. Fiction should 
be a plausible association with facts. 
Here, they are complete and utter 
strangers For instance, the FBI (а mag- 
nificent organization) has never been 
engaged in the arca of narcotic enforce- 
ment This activity is exclusively the 
orbit of the Bureau of Narcotics and 
Dangerous Drugs. 

Harry J. Anslinger 

U. S. Commissioner of N: 

Hollidaysburg, Pe 


cotics (Ret) 
sylvania 


GOD AND COUNTRY AND BILLY 

Saul Braun's profile of Billy Gra- 

ham, Nearer, Silent Majority, 10 Thee 

(rLaynoy, February), brings one nearer 

to Graham than could а frontrow seat 
t any one of the Reverend's crusades. 
Christopher Н. Wellons 

Sherman Oaks, 


Braun's picce on Graham is br 
п а vaguely damaging way, but I won- 
if it doesn't miss the point. This 
evangel eligion's number опе 

America—one might п ше Chri 
tian world—has scarcely а wace of reli- 
in his n ip. True, Braun brings 
imo sharp focus the paradox of Gra- 
ham’s being violently hostile to sup- 
posed sexual obscenity, while he gives 
covert aid and comfort to the obscen 
of killing. This paradox, 
nothing but an accidental surfac 
the total lack I refer то. Whi 
nature of Mr. Gra n's inner life? We 
don’t know, except that it doesn't trans- 
Tusc grace, mercy or peace. What does 
he mean by "God"? We don't know. 


а 


howeve: 


There has never been the slightest indi- 
cation, between his prayers and flourish 
ings of the King James Bible (he has no 
access to scriptural sources, of course), 
that Graham has ever given a moment's 
serious thought to this mind-shattering 
question, This man is supposed to re- 
semble Jesus Chris? Don't make me 


gh 


John Theobald 
Sin Diego State College 
El Cajon, Californ 


raham ever had a divine message 
т, it would seem he has lost it 
in his desire to mingle with rulers and 
leaders. The religion that championed 
ust and his ilk, that condoned 
slavery and land theft and пету break- 
. has no good work to do in these 
На ces Sin VERRE marijuana 
gives more peace of mind and sense of 
the beauty of God's creation than does a 


chrome-plated, pla waving idol 
that some people mistake for Christ. 


Too bad Graham hasn't met the real 
McCoy— gentle, long-haired and persecu: 
cd. If old Bill ever gets his soul in gear 
the first sign will be the sudden lack of 
ations to affairs of a corrupt, kill- 
crazy state. A true prophet seldom has 
honor from his own country 

Don Joseph, Jr 


Hamilton, Ontario 
I read with cager enthusiasm Saul 
Braun's article on the relevance of Billy 


Graham's message to our waroriented 
society. My exceptional interest is born 
of a nine-month “tour of duty” with the 
Graham ог tion prior to and dur- 
ing the 1966 Southern Piedmont Gru- 
sade in Greenville, South С I 
was employed by the Southern Pied- 
mont Crusade, Inc. not by the parent 
organization, the Billy Graham Evange- 
listic Association. The location of the 
amice in the magazine (first one to fol- 
low the centerfold) and the author's 
discreet omission of quotation marks are 
particularly apt. The accompanying c: 
саше illustration is excel- 
lent, though I was disappointed to see a 
simple lectern has replaced his electrically 
powered portable pulpit. My respect for 
ham's message of salvation is unsur- 
passed; my respect for Graham and his 
bout the same as Braun 

David Roberts 

Sumter, South Caroli 


of Graham 


un’s splendid profile leads one 10 
believe that were Jesus to appear to 
Billy Graham in the nude, ihe Reverend 
Billy would be forced to disown him. 
Allen Lang 
Chicago, Illinois 


While Billy Graham presents the lib- 
eral American with an enigmatic con- 
glomeration of an archaic religious and 


political system incarnated in the form 


of a modern saddle padre, he confronts 
dis. 


student in a far mo 
ht. To many of us, Gral 
most drastic perversion of 
which allows him to con 
lence many of our society's 
crimes against mankind, 
Asia to the 
gunning down of Americans on college 
campuses. At a time that sees the in- 
diament of Roman Catholic pacifist 
dergymen and women by the state for 
conspiring to commit crimes of violence, 
it is hard to believe that Billy Gra 
ham continues to sell indulgences within 
the walls of the White House. Although 
one would not wish to discourage Gra 
ham's unique science of political herme 
neutics, one might hope that he would 
recul the following passage: "No man 
can serve two masters: for either he will 
hate the one, and love the other; or else 
he will hold to one and despise the 


the semin: 
turbing li 
represents 
Chrisiiani 
done by 
most hideou 


from the war in Southcast 


other. Ye cannot serve God and Mam- 
mon” (Matthew 6:24). 
Martin Barlosky 


Union Theological Semi 
New York, New York 


гу 


Graham says he won't do а Playboy 
Interview unless the foldout for that 


month is removed. It seems to me I once 
who 


read about a 
preached among 
v» prostitutes, 
message so fragile th 
breasts will shatter i 
Steve Huboner 
Albuquerque, New Mexico 


nice Jewish boy 
tax’ collectors, 
«с. Is 


MUSICAL AIRS 
Ауу Jazz and Pop 7I 
February issue, with Nar Hentoff's 
sis of the past superb. Di 
my many years working in radio, I have 
had the task of selecting the best 100 
tists in 
ted fields, almost a mission im- 
4 t0 мау away from the 
standard formalism of follow the leader 
and polling-bysales, it is often helpful 
to abide by rravmoy, with readers’ 
choices spanning the world, 

Mike H. Olund, Manager 

Radio KYNG 

Coos Bay, Oregon 


your 
aly 


songs of the year and the best 
their 


rela 


Га like to express my apprecia 
FLAYHOY and to its readers for the 
tion of my late son, Jimi Hendrix, to 
The Playboy Jazz & Pop Hall of Fame. It 
is a great honor and a source of pride 
for me. While Т know that Jimi would 
have been proud of this honor, I also 
knew Jimi as a boy and a son, and thc 
popular image and the person were two 
different things. Jimi, more than 

thing else, just wanted 10 play his music 
and to be able to live his own life. What 
he had to do to be able to do that was 
not what he was. Jimi did have a hard 


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PLAYBOY 


14 


time getting to where he could play his 
music, and it is too bad he had such a 
short time to do it. I didn't get Jimi an 
electric guitar when he was 12; all he 
had was a broom, which he pretended 
was а guitar, I have no knowledge that 
“dope claimed” Jimi; according to the 
death certificate, my son died of suffoca- 
tion on his own vomit after taking some 
strong sleeping pil's. Jimi was trying to 
do things with his music that had never 
been done before, and he died too soon. 
I am hoping that the real story of what 
my son was and what he was trying to do 
will be told. That is why I 
in a new project, the J} 
morial Foundation, | am trying to see 
that some of the things that Jimi really 
wanted to do are accomplished. 

ames Allen Hend 


Seattle, Washington 


PRISON BLUES 

"Tom Murton. in your February inter- 
view, offers comments on the Ark 
corrections system that lameni 
applicability across this nation. My reac- 
tion to the interview is one of app 
Although the inmates of our prisons come 
in mı nt. packages in relation to 


personality, past experience, etc., cert 
generalizations derived from observa 
and research seem to have validity. Two 


common denominators, in particula 

are feelings of low sclf-esicem and im- 
paired ability in interpersonal relation- 
ships. Handicapped in their capacity to 
te to others in the larger community, 
temporarily isolated and are 
new setting with other simi- 


isol 


placed. in 
larly frustrated people. Our jails and 


prisons have then 1 
operate in reinforcing the inmate's isola- 
tion. An effective prison system should 
encourage open communication through 
s many avenues as possible, This must 


he consciously built о a program with 
the sanction and continuing support of 
the administration. I participated sever- 


I years ago in initiat m 
in the Maico, California, County 
Sherill's Department. In an open institu- 
tion with no bars no fences and no 
gates that housed graduates of San 
Quentin, etc, only one escape occurred 
during the first year. "There's по one 
swer to correctional problems. But il 
we could begin ro move on some of the 
basic knowledge we have, 1 am con- 
vinced we might be more hopeful. 

Ray R. Price 

Assistant Professor 
School of Social Welfare 
sity of Kansa 
Kansas City, Kansas 


ng disclosures regard- 
ng the means of. penitential rehabilita- 
tion employed throughout the land will 


awaken the conscience and rouse the 
sentiment of good men everywhere. No 
level of government can escape the guilt 
incurred. from our shamelul and. perver- 
sive penal system, so long so sorrowLully 
neglected. І find Murton's approach to 
prison rehabilitation efforis most re 
freshing. Rest assured that I, as а mem- 
ber of the House of Representatives 
Judiciary aad Select Crime Commitee, 
will lend my support to comprehensive 
prison-relorm legislation. 

Representative Jerome R. Waldie 

U.S. House of Represent: 

Washington, D. C. 


The interview with Murton w 
far, the best I have ever read. The topic 
was timely, the content excellent and 
the man fantastic. know of few men as 
apable as Murton in bringing about 
the much needed reform, and even few: 
er willing 1o lose Шей jobs to do it. Т 
was prompted to write my Congressman 
to find out what was being done in my 
state about the deplorable prison situa- 
tion. 1 hope the interview had similar 
effects on others and that maybe Murton 
will be re-employed where he belones— 
at the prison, not at the campus. 

Donald Gerrard. Dawson 

Columbus, Ohio 


m a police officer and I know that 
the Texas prison system cannot be any- 
where near as bad as Arkansas, but it 
m't as good as it could be under the 
direction of a man like Murton, I would 
feel like Т was doing society and the 
man міо commited the crime a much 
bener service if I knew he was going to 
a place run by Murton's methods. Bur I 
couldn't be a law-enforcement officer in 
Arkansas, knowing that if I arrested a 
he would be sent to a place where 
crime flourished rather than was de- 
d. Т hope to hear of Murton being 
s superintendent of corrections 
somewhere soon, If there were more men 
like him to reduce recidivism, the police 
officer would have much more › 
to prevent the first offense from occurring. 
Ted F. Henley 
Waxahachie, Te 


As a former inmate of the Arkansas 
prison system (eight years) who lived 
under several wardens, I feel qualified 
to present a subjective critique of your 
interview. Murton did indeed make 
some revolutionary changes, administ 
tively and in the physical plant at the 
"Tucker unit, that were for the benefit of 
but overall he just showed 
up his fanatic and egocentric philoso- 
phy of penal reform. He thinks of 
himself as the messiah, and not the pa- 
ah he wishes his readers to believe to be 
his selfconcept. He has the only solu- 
tion and summarily rejects fellow col- 
leagues! or any other person's attempts at 
prison reform as being antiquated or 


“empirically” nonproductive. Murton 
dismisses educational and vocational 
programs as major steps in rehabilita- 
tion and decline in recidivism so light! 
that he reaches the ultimate im penal 
ignorance. The educational program in 
which I participated during my last year 
prison led to my present starus i 
society. I am now a junior in college 
and plan to enter law school after com- 
pleting undergraduate work. I challenge 
Murton to show how college is making 
me into an educated criminal, and not 
a rehabilitated citizen. 
Buddy 
College of th 


hols 
Ozarks 


Prison reform in Arkansas was not an 
original idea of Murton's. The Arkansas 
Gazelle, among other leading voices in 
the state, had been crying for reform 
long before he or Governor Winthrop 
Rockeleller appeared. As a Democratic 
legislator, T welcomed Murton's appoint- 
ment because he appeared to be so well 
qualified. I favored more funds for the 
improvements and. reforms we all know 
are needed, although I feel that the con- 
ditions in the Arkansas prison system 
were not as medieval as has been charged. 
I had high hopes for the Murton prison 
adminisuation. I ultimately rea 
he would do anything and say amything 
to get newspaper headlines; he c 
rassed Governor Rockefeller repeatedly 
by his public statements, and his actions 
were those of a man who was trying to 
provoke his own discharge so he could 
capitalize on it. He has since written a 
book and talked 10 anybody, any time, 
anyplace he could to publicize his ver- 
sion of his discharge. Murton is more 
interested in the spotlight than in solid 
accomplishments in his chosen field 

Representative Gayle Windsor 
Arkansas State Legislature 
Little Rock, Arkan: 


Murton's past employment record in 
various other ll easily estab- 
lish the credibility of his sratemenis. It 
seems most publications choose to over- 
look this. as our former governor did. 
The worst thing that ever happened to 
Arkan: м when Мицоп crossed its 
borders. I predict Minnesota will rue 
ever secing him. The cemetery he 
unearthed is on record in the U.S 
Army Corps of 
burg, Mississippi, where anyone 
desires to may obtain the records and. 
regarding location, etc. The pathologist 
who examined the graves stated they 
were 40-50 years old. There isn’t a 50- 
rok prison or state hospital in the 
United States that doe: 
maiked graves. Dui 
years and before, m 
ied in boxes for 
there are many ab 


states sho 


ngincers office in Vicks: 
who 


ny people were bur- 
lack of resources; and 
doned cemeteries 


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Too wide for some cars. Too much for 
some drivers.Too wild for some tastes. 

But that's the way it goes. 


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Only from General. 


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18 


астозу this country where people are laid 
to rest in unmarked graves. What Murton 
found on the Arkansas prison grounds 
was not particularly unusual. However, 
he is so desirous of publicity that he 
played the occasion to the hilt with the 
outobstate reporters—who stood beside 
the open graves the way condor-beaked 
vultures wait—and pounced on a sister 
state for alleged wrongdoings that could 
have happened in any of our states. Ad- 


mittedly, there have been violent deaths 
prisons and state institutions across 


i 
this land, but these crimes, if they can be 
called crimes, happened a generation ago. 
Not be gained by digging them 
up 50 years later. 


nator Virgil T. Fletcher 
Arkansas State Legislature 
le Rock, Arkansas 


1 applaud Murton's critical analysis of 
pseudo prison relorm. True reform must 
focus on the internal organization of our 
penal institutions. A system that re- 
lieves an individual of the necessity to 
k and act responsibly cannot expect 
that individual to function smoothly 
when returned to a democratic society. 

William Cottringer 
Murray, Kentucky 


LIBERATION LAY 
Th Baum's The Big Pieces 
(rrAvnov, February) was one of the more 
amusing stories you've run in recent 
months—a satirical, welcome relief from 
your more serious types of fiction. Baum 
has a sharp ear for dialog and an even 
sharper eye for characterization. Of late, 
I've been meeting Susin Roth types by 
the gross, and I'm beginning to wonder 
what the hell they ever did before wom- 
en's lib gave them а cause. Baum does 
a nice job of taking them down a peg. 
Fred Robinsoi 
St. Louis, Missouri 


SHLESINGER'S SOOTHSAYING 

1 have just read Arthur Schlesinger, 
Jr.'s fantastic article Histories of the Fu- 
lure (PLAYmov, February. It's one of 
the most open-minded pieces of literature 
I've ever seen, He certainly has a flair 
for sarcastic insight and has put Agnew- 
minded anarchists where they belong: 
believing in a bungling, bifaced bastard's 
belligerent beliefs. Schlesinger hit dead 
center when he stated that "the future 
has several histories and every nation has 
the ability to choose its own." We can. 
only hope that America makes the cor- 
rect decision in time. 


Earl L. Kerns 
Flagstaff, Arizona 


What Schlesinger's article foreshadows 


is the awakening, in America, of a new 
brand of nationalism. Jt is not the tired 
patriotism of the McGarthy era—flag in 
hand, tear in eye—but, rather, it is an 
"honest nationalism." America is great, 


but not perfect. In order for such a 
complex country to exist, people must 
realize that it is not above having prob- 
lems. After the growing pains suffered in 
the past decade, the time has come for 
America to stop dreaming and wake up. 
The fanatics, to the left and to the 
right, will soon consume themselves in 
their own flames—as fanatics always do. 
It is highly unlikely that there will be a 
revolution whose outcome is utopia, or 
that a return to the puritan ethic will 
bring back the “good old days" that 
never were. Most Americans are as sicl 
of the Abbie Hollmans as they are of the 
Judge Hoffmans. While the "silent n 
jority” was not talking, it was thinking 
па out of this thought came the reali 
zation that it is the ind 
bility as much as the Government's to 
work for a better Ameri 

Daniel S. 

Newington, Connecticut 


Schlesinger's scenarios are interesting. 
and thought-provoking. But he fails to 
answer that most important of questions 
—‘Where in the world is our national 
security directly engaged? 
Capt. R. E. Gallatin, U. S. N. 
Key West, Flor 


‘Thank God for Schlesimger's article. 
Without any axes to grind or need for 
personal recognition, without documen- 
ation of past events or cause to alarm, 
he has succeeded in clarifying for me— 
and probably millions of others—the 
whole of the Vietnam mess. 
John Y. Pyo, M.D. 


Inglewood, California 


BEAT THE DRUM SLOWLY 
A Nice Enough Funeral, by William 
Harrison (PLAvpov, February), was more 
than a nice enough story—it was a very 
rema ^ withering look into 
what a genius’ life might be like, but told 
with enouph compassion and heart that 
the outré becomes understandable, if not 
commonplace, There is а reason why 
people are like they are, and Harrison 
wields a deft scalpel, indeed, in peeli 


able onc. 


back the wrapping around his main char- 
acter. I found Funeral fascinating though, 
at first, somewhat repellent; in the end, 


I could not put it down without wishing 

Baskin and Kate as much happine 

there might be in life for any of us. 
Mal Roberts 
Cleveland, Ohio 


ав 


Harrison's last novel, In а Wild Sanc- 
tuary, convinced me that he is one of the 
best of the new writers on our fiction 
scene. He has ап сене gift for spott 
the edges of flint in the soft swamps of 
eroticism, the kind of metaphysics that 
every senses as the skeleton of his 


lust. This image of a funereal carnival, 
or Saturnalian funeral in which the 
mother flesh renews the earth again— 
arousing the son to life—is mythic in the 
best sense. This is the kind of wr 
that keeps our metapl 
very much looking forward to the novel 
from which 4 Nice Enough Funeral was 
excerpted. Baskin obviously has far to go 
before he finds his own grave under the 
killer mount: 


R. V. Cassill 
Providence, Rhode island 
Cussill is the author of “Doctor Cobb's 
Game,” а currently bestselling novel 
based on England's celebrated sex-politics 
scandal, the Profumo affair. 


WARBIRDS OF A FUNNY FEATHER 
I very much enjoyed Brock Yates and 
Bruce McCall's nostalgic review of pre- 
jet planes, Major Howdy Bixby's 
Album of Forgotten Warbirds (PLAYBOY, 
January) however, I cannot understand 
their leaving one of my favorite pre- 
World War One craft off the list. 
The Hungarian Busmeg-Erker-Lo-Fuss 
Crumpley.Levesh. 7-94 was among the 
most highly prized secrets of the Hun- 
guian Standing Army. Its field test by 
Corporal Michael Boldisar is more 
memorable in the annals of aircraft lore 
than the plane itself. It seems that Bol- 
dizsar had the aircraft (a unique design 
of hog innards stretched over steamed 
willow boughs) towed atop the Sphinx 
while on Egyptian maneuvers. The plan 
was to push the prototype off of the 
statue sans engine for a glide test. But 
Boldizsar's plans were aborted when sev- 
eral Arab grave robbers attracted by the 
strong garlic odor mistook the craft for a 
rack of drying sausages and had eaten 
half of the plane before Boldizsar’s sen- 
try awoke to the popping noise of the 
bursting casings. Boldizsar, stunned by 
the failure of this mission, defected to 
the Un and 
served until retirement as a freelance 
consultant to the Food and Drug Ad- 

ministration, Meat Inspection Division, 
Robert E, Psenka 

Houston, Texas 


One of the most beautiful and grace- 
ful fighters of World War Two was the 
British Boulton Paul Defiant I. Unique- 
ly designed, it had no guns firing lor- 
Its sole armament consisted of 
four Browning machine guns mounted 
in a turret just behind the pilot and 
aimed and fired by a second crewman 
Theoretically, the pilot would concen- 
trate on flying and the gunner on shoot- 
ing down enemy airplanes, This highly 
1 fighter design worked only once, 
while the Defiants were flying fighter 
cover for a bombing raid on Dieppe. 
Thinking that the fighters were British 
Hurricanes (which had standard forward- 


ward. 


LEAD 
WOMIIEN 
AROUND BY 
THE, NOSE. 


PLAYBOY 


20 


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firing guns), the German pilots attacked 
from above and behind and were blasted. 
out of the sky. But they quickly caught 
оп to the new design and soon learned to 
attack the Defiant fom below and in 
front. It was impossible to fire the turret 
guns into this quadrant and the Defiants 
ad absolutely no defense. The ai 

was quickly withdrawn from 
operations but, painted. black, 
surfaced as a night fighter. However, it 
never did really work as well as it wa 
supposed to. Regrettably, unlike the 
ones in Major Bixby's Album, the story 
of the Boulton Paul Defiant I is truc. 
Nor is this sort of fiasco a thing of the 
past, as our experience with the XB-70 
as shown, Yates and McCall came closer 
to reality than many people would like 
10 admit. 


Geoffrey W. Sjostrom. 
C. L. T. C.. C. A, P. Ret) 


Wilmette, Hlinois 


THE PLAYBILL MYSTERY 

As а longtime Ellery Queen buff, I 
was exceedingly gratified to sce The 
"Three Students in your March issue. But 
your own investigative talemis failed, I 
think. Shouldn't your Playbill have 
identified Manfred Lee as Fred Dannay's 
collaborator? 


John ard 
Noxo, Mississippi 
riAvbov apologizes to Manfred Lee, 
who, indeed, has collaborated for years 
with Fred Dannay to produce the popu- 
lay Ellery Queen mysteries, another of 
which will appear in our June issue. 


SABOTAGING THE SOVIETS 
Representative Thomas Rees’s article 
on Bringing Russia to Her Knees in the 
February PrAvmov proves that Rees 
may be miscast as а representative of the 
people—he could have done equally 
well as a humorist. But just because we 
missed on backing the Fiat plant doesn’t 


and cheap TV set 
implies, TI 

would cause, of millions of Muscovites 
rushing to GUM to buy the latest appli- 
ance, of the struggle to keep up with the 
heplovs. of the burning of millions of 
kilowatts as half of а nation stays up to 
night movie and leaves 
for work the next morning, red-eyed and 
accident-prone. The possibilities 
less, Why, in a year’s time, th 
се at ай beim 
ans, and the Nixon Adi 
tration could at last take the credit for 
Us All Together—on а world- 


Malcolm Becker 
Los Angcles, California 


BEHIND EVERY — 
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THERES A GREAT 
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| 
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p 


This is the sharpest, longest 


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Why Tungsten Steel makes 
a better razor blade. 


A razor blade can only be as good as the metal it’s 
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That's why Personna began experimenting with 
Tungsten Steel. A metal known for its toughness, 
its ability to hold a sharp cutting edge. 


Tungsten Steel: 
developed exclusively for Personna. 


Few people knew enough about the complex tech- 
nology of Tungsten Steel to make a razor blade out 
of it. So Personna went all the way to Sweden to 
work with precision steel experts. There we spent 
three years developing and perfecting the Tungsten 
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Tungsten vs. Platinum. 


Platinum is a soft metal. Great for fine jewelry 
beeause it’s easy to mold and work with. But 
Personna wanted a harder metal, because a harder 
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more than just a “plus?” 


Today, most razor blades are coated with a metal 
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PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


few months ago, several ambitious 

West Coast pot peddlers, imbued 
with an abiding faith in capitalist cco- 
nomics, introduced packaged filter-tip 
mar cigarettes with the catchy 
name GrassMaster—and predicted that 
their ambitious endeavor would ultimate 
ly legalize marijuana by fait accompli. 
Despite their claim that 5000 cartons of 
GrassMasters were distributed among 320 
icit drug sellers in the San Francisco 
they seem only to have unloaded a 
few hundred sample packages of rather 
low-grade joints cranked out on Laredo 
rollers by the underground equivalent 
of elves, One of the flip-top pot promot- 
ers is an astute entrepreneur who calls 
himself Felix the Cat. Delivering Grass- 
Master samples (slogan: "GM for Prog- 
res") to local rock station KSAN-FM, 
Felix issued the following claims: that he 
represented a consortium of eight pro- 
fessional dealers that turns а ton of pot 
a month in the Bay Area; that the Grass- 
Master scheme has the financial back- 
of some "liberal businessmen"; that 


GrassMusters would be оп the market in 
as many as 30 U. S. cities by the end of 
this year; that a secret but fully auto- 
mated joint factory was being built in 
Mexico; that Felix the Cat delivery vans 
would опе day rumble through the 
streets of every large city, illegally but 
unmolested, like beer trucks in the wan- 
ing days of Prohibition. This. Mr. Cat 
assured various interviewers, was how Re- 
peal came about in 1933: as а result of 
sive lawbreaking and fantastic profit 
nd in a trice, Felix was gone: 
cither to London or the Bahamas, either 
on business or on the lam, depending on 
the source. Said one unamused San Fran- 


cisco narcotics 


gent, "Yeah, we've got a 
pack. Maybe the only pack. It's just 
that Berkeley bunch again." But in the 
hearts of heads there's a spark of hope 
that where there's smoke, there's dope 
Rolling Stone links Felix to the impor- 
tation of “6000 cartons of the Vieuname 
ese brand Рак Lanc"—professionally 
packaged reefers with filter tips (cotton 
їп the mouthpiece) that supposedly 
reached the U.S. last fall and, according 


to the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 
have been selling briskly on the Philly 
pot market. 

In any case, Felix’ Bay Area apolo 


gists consider him an honest business- 
man who's simply encountering those 
unexpected little problems and delays 
that plague any new commercial enter- 
prise. Whether or not GrassMasters ever 
pose a threat to straight America, to the 
tobacco industry or to present mari 
juana merchandising, the sced—so to 
ak—has been planted, and we fancy 
in some apartment in the low-rent 
district of some large city, some mari- 
juana bootlegger has been inspired with 
a grandiose pipe dream: neighborhood 
smoke-easies operated by police-protected 
distributors representing centrally located 
reefer works (disguised ay breweries); the 
taw materials are trucked in from the 
Coast, where just beyond the three-mile 
limit plies the modern version of a rum 
Nect heavily laden with bales of the 
Mexican hemp that is already challeng- 
ing booze on the urban cockuti-party 
circuit and making the college-haternity 
"smoker" just that, As the venerable AL 
Capone once put it, after describing him- 
self as a simple businessman: "When 1 
sell liquor, it’s called bootlegging; when 
my patrons serve it on silver trays on 
hore Drive, it's called hospitality." 


rick Ryan, a wry Irish wit and a 
tist who manages to combine both 
ulties nicely in a by-lined column he 
writes for the Smithsonian magazine, 
calls our attention to ап urgent prob- 
lem. Here we are, he points out, tra 
ing our radio telescopes hither and yon 
in space, in the hope-mixed-with-appre- 
hension that somebody or something out 
there will say something to us. What 
Ryan is concerned about is that we 
don't have a prepared reply to get the 
conversation going—not the U.S., not 
Britain, not Russia, all of whom have 
their electronic ears peeled, nor суеп 
the whole planet Earth. Ryan sets out 
to remedy this reprehensible unreadiness 
as follow: 

IE the historic greeting is first received 


in, for example, the immediate 
problem will be whether etiquette. per- 
mits any reply to be sent to somebody to 
whom one has not been formally inno- 


duced. But when necessity overcomes 
pune the probable British answer 
will be, "Can you lend us any money: 


Should the signal fall on Russian ears, 
the cautious rejoinder from the Kremlin 
may be, “Before we go any further, 
comrades of the cosmos, would you 
please publicly confirm that we invented 


you?” And were it picked up in the 
United States, that strange national hun. 
ger for international affection would 
perhaps compel the White House to 


teply, "Distant friends, can you give us 
assurance that you truly love our great 
American people: 
Even if the world actually spok 
ce the mes- 


one, the time could. influc 
sage. IE the great br 
50 years, Earth's answer might have to 
be, “Mayday, mayday, mayda 
you lend us any oxygen? We're knec- 
deep in pollution down here" Jn a 
hundred years, it could desperately rise 
to, "Have you got any room for inter 
planetary immigrants? We're already 
standing two-deep on опе another's 
shoulders.” After another half century of 
scientific progress, all the intergalactic 
listeners may pick up is the sound of a 
faint "Goodbye . . ." as the human race 
finally picks up its hat. And afterward? 
On a wave length of 21 i 
nothing but na i 


ural emissi 
tral hydrogen that pervades the g 


In ruling that an imported Swedish 
sex film was not obscene, New York 
Federal Appeals Judge Leonard P. 
Moore issued a legal opinion that should 
qualify as one of this season's better 
ews. We quote, in p. 
guage of Love stars four of what 
pparently leading Sc 
technocrats, with brilliant cameo. roles 
for the functioning flesh of various un- 
named actors... . It purports to be an 
animated Little Golden Book of marital 
relations, or perhaps the Kama Sutra of 
clectronic media, although the film is 


ndinavian sexual 


PLAYBOY 


26 


arly as r the variety of 
its smorgasbord of delights as comparison 
with that ancient Hindu classi 
suggest. It may be the Vulgate Scripture, 
the Popular Mechanics of interpersonal 
relations, the complete cure for the а 
ing marriage. Or so goes the theory of its 
sponsors. .. ." 


Best epitaph of the year comes from 
U.S. Senator Adlai Stevenson Ш, who 
said of Ilinois’ lare Secretary of State 
Paul Powell (the fellow who stashed all 
that cash): “His shoe boxes will be hard 
to fill. 


Very crever: There's a town in Japan 
that stamps locally made products MADE 
IN USA. It’s all perfectly proper, though 
—the name of die place is Usa. 


Women’sib prophecy scrawled on a 
wall in Cambridge, Massachusetts: THE 
WILL BE NAMED MARGARET. 


NEXT MESSIA 


They said it, we didn't An artide 
in the Minneapolis Daily American end- 
ed this way: “Agnew stormed Kansas 
City yesterday, where he was expected to 
visit former President Harry Trum: 
suffering from coitus in а local hospital.” 

In Ipswich, England, a newspaper ad 
for a onenight charity screening of a 


conservation film pulled in 5. К. О. ticket 
requests. A spokesman for the Suffolk 
Trust for Nature Conserva h 


sponsored the movie, remarked: “People 
obviously thought it was an entirely di 
ferent film.” The name of the flick: 
The Lust of the World, 

This month's Good Taste Award, 
Graveyard Humor Division, goes to the 
telephone company in Fair Haven, New 
Jersey, for the following classified ad on 
the same page as those for funeral 
homes: "Doing some planting? Find 
every garden need in the Yellow Pages.” 


To protect her students from “ghastly 
sights and shameless behavior,” the 
headmistress of a secondary school im 
Thailand bought the brothel next door 
nd closed it. 


‘The sweetly scented winds of d 
it seems, have finally hit the Deep South, 
аз wi this headline over The 
Miami Herald's weather та ‘MOST OF 
NATION IS EXPERI A VAST HIGI 


ness 


CIN 


We applaud the recent floor proposal 
ator Robert Dole (Repub 
s) that the Upper House should set 
y for Presiden- 
tial aspirants to voice their opinions on 
public issues. The hopefuls, he suggests, 
should be divided into four groups: 


“First, those Senators who think they are 
President. Second, those Senators who 
think they should have been President. 
Third, those Senators who think they 
want to be President. And fourth, those 
Senators who are ready to settle for be- 
ing Vice-President. 


The new 


al junior college in 
Victoria, F Columbia, changed its 
me from Juan de Fuca 
when authorities realized th 
would be called Fuca U. 


to Camosun 
at the school 


ART 


The Cubist Epoch, fresh from its 
opening at the cosponsoring Los Ange- 
les County Museum of Art, has arrived 
at New York's Metropolitan Museum of 
Art, where it will remain through June 

venth, Through the past duce decades, 
there have been uncounted exhibits of 
cubist paintings and sculpture, but the 
sponsors of this show say this is the first 
attempt to define cubism historically — 
from its beginnings as a nonverbal dia- 
log between Pablo Picasso and Georges 
Braque to its lightning spread through 
Europe and to the U.S, and Russia. This 
is cubism’s half-century retrospective. It 
takes a strong will and a stronger pa 
of legs and eyes to get through it all 
an afternoon: the casual visitor will find 
more cubified still lifes, landscapes and 
poruaits Шап he ever dreamed of. But 
for the curious and dogged there are 
lessons to be learned 

Beginning with Picasso's Les Demoi- 
selles d'Avignon, painted in 1907, the 
viewer wends his way through hallways 
of Picasso and Braque—the "pure" cub- 
ism that ended in 1912—past the works 
of other painters in Paris (including 
samples of such unlikely disciples of the 
cube as Chagall and Diego Rivera) and 
on to glimpses of the genre in Holland 
(Mondrian), Italy (the Futurists), Czecho- 
slovakia, Russia and the U. $. Then one 
comes upon the best postWar works of 
Picasso and Braque, among oth nd 
a display that competes with the best of 
theirs—that of Juan Gris. The final sec 
tion of the exhibit is devoted to cubist 
sculpture, represented in small works 
by Picasso and. Braque and, most. nota- 
bly, by the work of Jacques Lipchitz. 

New Yorkers can sce Marcel Du 
champ's definitive Nude Descending а 
laircase No. 2, which was unavailable 
to viewers in Los Angeles, who saw the 
less impressive No. 1. But New Yorkers 
are denied another treat. The Philadel- 
phia Museum of Art held out its famed 
Picasso, Three Masked Musicians (1921), 
a painting that magnificently marked the 
end of the epoch at the exhibit in Los 
Angeles. But in any such huge showing, 
the omissions are far less important than 


what is there—an exhaustive look at 
what was once a revolutionary 
much maligned way to portray reality. 


and 


BOOKS 


Breathes there a man with flesh so 
dead, who never to himself has said: 
What about a little wife swapping? Be- 
fore he tries, he should read Group Sex 
(Wyden), by Gilbert D. Bartell, asso- 


ciate professor of anthropology at 
North Illinois University. Together 
with his wife, Bartell explored the 


swingers’ world as a prospective swing- 
ing couple who, not unreasonably, want- 
ed to look before they leaped into bed 
with strangers. The Bartells. who would 
rather write than switch, never actively 
participated because “it would have 
been repugnant to us to have sexual 
intercourse with people with whom we 
were not emotionally involved." The 
opposite principle applies to swi 
Bartell learned: Emotional 
is what they fear above all. Bue Bartell 
not allow his own moral outlook to 
color this report of the groupsex activi- 
ties of 350 couples, almost all of them 
married. He describes who the swi 
are, why they swing, how and 
they get together and what happens 
when they (from the awkward 
mating dance," a throwback to high 
school dating days to full-fledged or- 
gies). In what the author calls “possibly 
the most intriguing finding of ош 
study," it turns out that husbands fre 
quently encourage their wives to per- 
form together, that two out of three 
women admitted having had sexual rela- 
tionships with other females and that 
nine out of ten women at large parties 
turn to Lesbian swinging—partly be- 
cause their hard-drinking husbands have 
passed ош. Bartell concludes that group. 
sex reflects “the impersonali 
well as the depersonalization of human 
relationships in our culture. 

An example of this tend 
sex an imp 


do 


ion as 


n is The Sen- 


secus Man (Stuart), by "M. 
nothing depra bout the bool 
in fact, curiously insistent tha 
deserves cue and соп 


ved 


woman 
ideration—the 
same kind of attention a feliow would 


give his car to assure getting full power 
mpg. This manual tells a 
n everything he already knows about 


sex and would never bother to ask. 
In Нотоп Sexual Behavior (Basic), a 
collection of essays edited by Donald S. 


Marshall and Robert С. Suggs, six cul- 
tures are described to point out the ex- 
ity of sexual response. 
an dr 


waordinary div 
At one end of the spectrum 
community where the sight of bare feet 
is considered embarrassing, where couples 


Fed up with flat taste? 


орї 
KGDL 


B vero, propia Miramon ronacea eogr: 


1 mg "tat; 14 mg, nicotine av. per cigarette, FIC Report Nov.70. 


PLAYBOY 


28 


They're all together. 
Plymouth's corduroy slip-on 


and boot 


with sure-footed crepe soles. 
Soft as slippers (for the 
waifs you bring in from the rain). 
At together stores and 
college shops. 


PLYMO@UTII , - 


Plymouth Shoe Co., Inc. / 
Middleboro, Mass. 02346 


Great casual looks 


Sive 5111 Style s121 


Wake up to an 
ocean fresh shave. 


With Old Spice 


Super Smooth Shave. 


Thick 

a luxul 
that helps protect 
you from today's 
extra sharp blades. 
Makes every shave 


remain dothed during intercourse and 
where frustration literally drives men 
and women m at the other end is a 
South Pacific island where copulation 
akes place freely in the single room of 
hut with more than a dozen other in- 
iduals present—and none of them 
g any attention. This volume is the 
latest of the Studies in Sex and Society 
being issued by the late Alfred Kinsey's 
Institute for Sex Research. 

Erotic Spirituality (Macmillan). by Alan 
Watts, with photographs by Eliot Eliso- 
fon, focuses on a culture in which, cen- 
tries ago, sexual intercourse became 
the equivalent of a religious experience. 
In language that often verges on the 
incomprehensible, Watts struggles to ex- 
how the Hindu conception of the 

ature of the world expresses itself in 
the act of sex. The ancient Indian ideal 
of sexual love put the stress not on 
orgasm but on erection, and the gre 
est pleasure was the prolongation of 
tercourse—an achievement that required 
iplined that physical sensi- 
sformed into a trancelike 
state of mind. The contemporary reader 
can enjoy Elisofon’s superb photographs 
of the Sun Temple of Konarak—and 
then go on seeking the id of pleasure 
his culture has taught him to appre 
є: more erotic than spiritual, per- 
haps, but also more emotional than 
physical. 

After having been explained in sever- 
al recently published ponies (including 
one by riayuoy Assistant Managing 
Editor Nat Lehrman), Masters and John- 
son's Human. Sexual. Inadequacy is now 
dramatized in a pair of books centering 
mous graduate patients of the 
St. Lonis sex-therapy course. The Couple 
(Coward, McCann & Geoghegan), b 
“Mr, and Mrs. K,” and Inside the Sex Cli 
(World), by Barbara and Peter №. Wy- 
den, both provide day-by-day accounts of 
two-week cures of specific sex problems 
—impotence in one case premature 
ejaculation in the other, The couple in 
The Couple tell their first-person narra- 
tive briefly and rather sensationally. The 
third-person authors of Inside the Sex 
Clinic introduce large chunks of ex- 
p n from scholarly writings to add 
clinical body to their subjects’ personal 
experiences. Each of these volumes cin 
provide useful, though necessarily 
limited, introduction to Masters and 
Johnson's therapy for the reader who 
requires a story line to sustain his inter- 
est; but for sheer entertainment, straight 
porno is recommended. "These case his 
tories —in the best, or worst, tradition of 
soap opera—feature more agony than 
Ecsta: 


a body so 
tion was 


on anon 


The future pe of man's existence is 
the theme of David M. 
New Baby (Doubleday) and of David Coop: 
Cr's The Death of the Family (Pantheon). 
Combining and expanding а dozen of 


Y PLAYBOY'S 
: SEX IN CINEMA 
1970 


NEW 
FROM 
PLAYBOY 
PRESS 


Now on sale wherever pocket-size paperbacks are | 
sold—picture books, cartoon collections, party jokes, eee 
selected nonfiction and outstanding science fiction, I 

all with the special PLAYBOY flavor. Pick up a 
few EP next time you see a Playboy Press display. |y 


Playboy's Bunnies (pictorial) BK135 $1.75 
Y crows row PLAYBOY — Playboy's Sex in Cinema 1970 (pictorial) BK143 $1.75 
P Playboy's Bar Guide (how-to book) BK121 $.95 


\ ВЕС 
qe Э TH So This Is Love (Brian Savage cartoons) BK145 $.75 
BAR GUDE L OVE 6 Project Survival (ecology) BK153 $.95 

А The Bank Shot (Minnesota Fats on pool) BK147 $.95 
by e AMARO ЕФ = Playboy's Party Games (icebreakers) BK109 $.95 


Last Train to Limbo (science fiction) BK137 $.75 

The Dead Astronaut (science fiction) BK144 $.75 

Not Until You Take Off That Silly Hat 

(cartoons) BK152 $.75 

The Fiend (science fiction) BK148 $.75 

Good-bye, Cruel World (Shoemaker cartoons) BK149 $.75 
Playboy's Gourmet (cookbook) BK146 $1.25 

The Peeping Tom Patrol (fiction) BK154 $.95 

Jf your local bookdealer is out of stock, please write 

to Playboy Press, Dept. ВЕО401, 919 N. Michigan Ave., 
Chicago, Illinois 60611. Add 50¢ postage 
and handling per copy. 


THE BANK SHOT 


AND OTHER GREAT ROBBERIES 


by MINNESOTA FATS 
TnL, 


e me tC 


DR. PAUL EHRLI' 
HUXLEY, L 


PLAYBOY 


30 


Dave Stockton, PGA champion, 
uses Dep for Men. 


Swing with. 
Dep for men, 
Dave Stockton 
does 


SPECIAL OFFER: 6 Spalding golf balls (54.50 value) 
just $1.95 when you swing with Dep for Men. 


For years, Dep for Men has given yov guys great form in your hairstyle. Now we offer you 
a chance to get yourself into great form on the golf course with this special offer. 


To order golf balls, print your name, address and zip code on plain paper. 

Send together with check or money order for $1.95 plus 30¢ postage and 

handling ($2.25 total) and the end flap from a tube of Dep for Men Hairstyling 

Gei, Creme, Protein Shampoo or the collar 
from a can of either of our Dry Styling Hair 
Controls to: Dep for Men, P.O. Box 92824, 
Los Angeles, Calif. 90009. 


Allow 4 to 5 weeks for delivery. Offer good in соп- 
tinental U.S.A. only and expires September 30, 1971. 


California residents add 104 sales tax. Limit 6 golf balls SENG 
per order. ricis 


Dep for Men. Dry goods for your hair. 


his magazine articles (one of which ay 
peared in PLAYBOY). Rorvik explores 
what he calls the “promise and peril of 
the Biological Revolution.” He ranges 
from new surgical techniques for the 
production of “parentless” babies to 

icromolecular and chemical miracles of 
Rorvik argues that 


in possession of the basic 
knowledge that will enable him to outwit 
death—indeed, to free himself entirely 
from the tyranny of llesh—by incorpo- 
rating his mind into machines that will 
be able to explore the cosmos and ulti- 
mately by converting his esence into 
pure energy. The author makes such 
ce fictional concepts as memory 
pills and made-to-order genes seem not 
only possible but likely. In Rorvik’s 
world of brave new babies, there may be 
no place for the present idea of family; 
but David Cooper would not wait for 
future marvels—he wants to get rid of 
ght now. To the avantgarde 
sychoanalyst, the death of the 
s the best thing that could hap 
pen to humanity—in fact, the only thing 
that will save man from himself. The 
"bourgeois nuclear family unit," says he, 
is a “furlined bear trap" that deprives 
us of any genuine identity, experience or 
ty to love. Furthermore, since this 
family structure is reproduced in all of 
our social instituti 


once sci 


— businesses, hospi- 
tals, schools, government—its power to 


beings exists everywhere. But Cooper's 
tempts to formulate alternative р 
of human relationships tend to mea 
into murky by is for love 
lovem; for commu 
person: 4 
because we cannot “li ourselves 
without overthiowing the "power struc- 
he applauds such countries as 
з and Red China that have theoreti- 
cally abolished the and finds the 

ue leadership principle” embodied in 


Irving Stone's latest, longest book, The 
Passions of the Mind (Doubleday), subti- 
ted “A Biographical Novel of Sigmund 
Freud," doesn't yield the finer satisfac- 
tions of cither a ography. 
Stone has adopted the role of in- 
finitely painstaking recorder of facts, 
and the result of his labors can be notched 
up as mph of research over art. Still, 
Freud being the towering figure that he 
is, the method, to 
Freud's drawn-out and somewh: 
romance with Martha Bernays and his 
struggles as а penurious young Viennese 
doctor and university rescarcher arc 
treated in wearisome detail. But when it 
comes to the stuff of his mature life—his 
cascade of great discoveries in the hidden 
realms of the psyche; his gradual formu- 
lation of psychoanalytical theory and 


ovel or it 


Introducing Memorex 
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The tape that 

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i и 


New Memorex Cassette Tape EPA 
cen shatter glass because it re- à 
cords and plays back with exact- ч 
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pitch, every harmonic, every nuance 

of music. then plays them back the 
same way they sounded live. 

Quite a claim. 

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We found a singer who could maintain 
the exact pitch necessary to shatter glass and 
projected his voice with enough volume to 
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time, we recorded that pitch on Memorex 
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Then we played our tape back. 

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MEMOREX recorsinstape 


Reproduction so true it can shatter glass. © 1970, MEMOREX CORPORATION 


31 


PLAYBOY 


32 


t 2000 miles, the 
etergent in your oil 
is all washed up. 


The oil’s still good, but the 
detergent's long gone. 

You can either change the 
oil, or add CD-2 Black Label. 

Itgoes after sludge, 
varnish and carbon to keep 
your engine clean. 

You сап also ignore our 
advice and come back later. 

When you're ready for 
CD-2 Red Label. It’s for oil 
burners. 

Noall purpose additive can 
do either job as well. 


CLEANS 

- QUIETS 
Valyos-Rings 

h lifters 


_ ADD TO youR oiL to To your ol 
Quick before it's Betterlatethan 
too late. never. 


technique, along with his battle to estab- 
lish psychoanalysis as an internationally 
respectable branch of medical science; 
his constant rearguard action against or 
thodox medicine, which tended to view 
his theories concerning infantile sexuali- 
ty, the Ocdipus complex and the scxual 
etiology of neurosis as “filthy” and “re 
pugnant to human nature’; the defec- 
tion of some of his closest colleagues, 
most notably Jung (his “successor and 
Ciown Prince") but also Adler, Otto 
Rank and others—the same kind of de- 
tail generates considerable interest and 
even, on occasion, drama. The attentive 
reader will come away with something 
like a street map of old Vienna lodged 
in his head, as well as a knowledge of 
the physical characteristics of Freud's 
every patient, colleague and friend, in- 
formation he might be better off with- 
out; and he may be exasperated with the 
blandness of Stone’s style and his lack of 
selectivity in regard to the facts. But 
ultimately, Freud does emerge from all 
the mass of detail as a daring explorer of 
a courageous adherent to his 

own cause in the face of bitter hostility 
In the family of fiction, the short story 
has been the perennial waif. While full- 
length fat cats often feast on royalties 
from book clubs, paperbacks and movie 
contracts, the short story usually stands 
with nose pressed to the windowpanc 


arent of such poor relatives who 
гез to get his share of the 
goodies is William Kotzwinkle. His Ele- 
phant Bangs Train (Pantheon) is a collec- 
tion of 16 strange, elusive, iridescent 
stories, Kouwinkle is as resolutely other- 
worldly as, say, Theodore Dreiser was 
realistic and there's mot a story in this 
assemblage that bears a consistent res 
blance to the world we know. Perl 
the closest to reality is Marie, 
about a little girl who lifts hei 
day in school and shows her 
white as Christ's linen, 
ages wheeled into view. Ducky the Jester 
stood on his hands. Ralph Jenkins wig- 
gled his ears. Our princess skipped down 
holding her dress with two 
lephanis, magicians and dream- 
ers dance through young Kouwinkle's 
fantasy world. Illusion here is fresh off 
the loom, deep-dyed and draped in as 
many exotic costumes as а maharani 


Toward the end of a gloomy explora 
tion of This Endangered Planet (Random 
House), author Richard А. Falk voices a 
t he will be viewed as just апоц 
Casandra whistling in the da 


er 
Now, Cassandra, as far as we know, nev- 


er whistled in the dark, Yet despite his 
loose way with a phrase, Falk's own 
predictions may be just as accurate—and 


just as certain to be ignored—as that 
unhappy lady's. Unless we earthlings get 


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PLAYBOY 


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ourselves together, he warns, we arc 
doomed to be choked by pollution, tram- 
pled by overpopulation and ultimately 
blown up in a nuclear war. Falk points 
out that such problems cannot be solved 
within traditional national frameworks: 
“Only new organizational forms with a 
planetary scope . . . offer any prospect 
of a timely . . . and adequate response.” 
The case he builds is well wrought and 
carefully presented. He is convinced that 
we must proceed as though we were in a 
state of emergency if we wish to survive 
as а species. But he despairs of our 
capacity to respond. “Who among us," 
he asks, “would give up summer ya 
tions or consumer luxuries to improve 
the prospects for enduring peace?" And 
who among us would give up "progress," 
the annual sum of which includes 
7,000,000 junked cars, 48 billion cans and. 
200,000,000 tons of smoke and fumes? 1f 
this book depresses—and it does—it is 
not only because of the apocalypse Falk 
envisions but also because of the morass 
in which he and the rest of us are 
floundering already 

Clean French rhetoric and Africas 
splendor and barbaric misery have com- 
bined to produce the most exciting book 
to erupt from the anti-colonial movement 
since its inception. Yambo Ouologuem, a 
descendant of М: chiefs and a gifted 
young scholar with three French univer- 
sity degrees, has written a novel, Bound 
to Violence (Harcourt. Brace Jovanovich), 
that is sure to throw critics for a loss 
(“Where can we put him, above or be- 
low Genet?" and to enthrall, delight 
and confuse a large readership, Ouolo- 
guem tells the secret history of a Black 
Moslem dynasty of rulers who kept pow- 
er over their subjects by using a series of 
ghastly devices that make Machiavelli 
seem a scoutmaster. Asps trained to kill 
on command, drugs and enforced sex 
used to subjugate hordes of zombie-like 
fiendish disembowelments, canni- 
balism, sexual perversions of the most 
refined variet 
ter—these all suffuse the underground. 
story of African oppression that the ad- 
vent of white French colonialism merely 
modulated and concealed. But Ouolo- 
guem has the gift of making even the 
improbably melodramatic real; he en- 
chants by the sheer vivi 


spies, slander and slaugh- 


prose, which has been brill 
lated into English by Ralph Manheim. 
This of stealthy crime and terrible 
iggertrash” is the author's own. 
epithet for his suffering fellow blacks— 
leads the reader finally to Ouologuem's 
own conclusion: that one must first come 
to terms with his own. history, horrible 
as it is, if he wants to see “the golden age 
when all the swine will dic. . . .” 


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PLAYBOY 


36 


minor classic, he has produced seven 
novels, three plays, an anthology and 
many short stories, including the ones on 
which the execrable Dobie Gillis was 
based. His current entry in the college- 
humor contest is Potatoes Are Cheaper 
(Doubleday). (The title is taken from the 
first bsolutely 
ng to do with anyu all here 
—the relentless parodying, the long reach 
for the gag, the explosive one-liners, the 
snappy dialog. The story centers on Mor- 
ris Katz, scion of a Jewish family on its 
uppers in St. Paul during the Depres- 
sion. (All of a sudden, the Depression 
seems to have gotten funny; when it 
wears thin, we can doubtless expect a 
series of merry capers based on the siege 
of Leningrad or the My Lai massacre.) 
Katz, by his own definition, is the second 
best humper in town. On the record of 
the book's action, one can hardly dispute 
his judgment—in fact, we'll throw in 
Minneapolis as well. The plot, if so 
pedestrian a term can be applied to 
Shulman's arabesques, revolves around 
the hero's efforts to wed Celeste Zimmer- 
man, whose wealthy father will there- 
upon make the Katz family solvent. 
Along the way we meet Cousin Reuben, 
who is 35 and still has a paper route; 
Cousin Grip, who picked up that nick- 
mame because of a calcium deficiency 
that makes his bones as brittle as Venc- 
tian glass—a girl once caved in his chest 
with a beanbag: and an automobile made 
of washing-machine parts that is referred 
10 as the Maytag Six. Unfortunately, 
Shulman seems to have become bored 
with the work; toward the end, he is 
resolving his crises in the same paragraph 
in which he sets them up. Nonetheless, he 
те ns master of his minor form, and 
there is more than enough here to satisfy 
his fans, 


Most of the many books indicting 
America’s schools are useful both as ex- 
posés and as indexes of alternatives, but 
only a few are likely to be durable 
additions to the literature of education. 
One such is James Herndon's Hew to 
Survive in Your Native Land (Simon & 
Schuster), a deeply felt study of the 
nature of learning and of children. A 
teacher, Herndon previously wrote The 
Way L Spozed to Ве, а mordantly com- 
passionate account of survival techniques 
used by black children in an inner-city 
school His new book, about a white 
junior high in California, is even more 
illuminating. The book can be read for 
the sheer pleasure of its style or as a 
horror story (what of the millions of 
kids without Herndons as teachers?). In. 
High School (Simon & Schuster), edited by 
Ronald Gross and Paul Osterman, a few 
Kids and teachers survive their schools, 
but the damning thrust of this anthology 


t they are so fe 


High School in- 


cludes the probes of seers and savagers 


ak) as well as diaries 
underground. writings by the youngsters 
themselves, plus cautionary tales by young 
ex-publicschool teachers who tried to 
beat the system. There is also а subst 
tial section about alternative schools 
where teachers are teachers, not drillers, 
and the kids actually discover that life 
and learning necd not be separated. It is 
the unsentimental but hopeful contention 
of Neil Postman and Charles Wein- 
Bartner in The Soft Revolution (Delacorte) 
that students themselves cin do a lot to 
make schools into places for hum be- 
ings. Subtitled “A Student Handbook for 
Turning Schools Around,” this Cracker 
Јас box of a book offers “advice, n 
ims, homilies, metaphors, models, case 
studies, rules, commentaries, jokes, say- 
ings 
change can be achieved. To critics who 
put down their approach as piecemeal 
reform, the authors respond: "They are 
wrong. When piccemeal reform is inade- 
quate, the reason is that not enough 
pieces have been reformed.” Written with 
the sardonic flair of the earlier Postman- 
Weingarmer guide to educational judo, 
Teaching as а Subversive Activity, this 
sequel should prove суеп more influ- 
because there is hardly a page 
without a specific idea that has already 
worked or that can easily be made to 
work, In Students Without Teachers, 
Harold Taylor, the well-known educa- 
tor, showed how mudi students them- 
selves can do to rescue higher learning 
from its mandarin curators. His newest 
fusion of pragmatism and idealism, How 
to Chonge Colleges: Notes on Radical Reform 
(Holt, Rinehart & Winston), provides 
an even wider range of realistic alter- 
natives. Like Postman and Weingartner, 
Taylor believes that it is not necessary 
or possible to wait for system-wide or 
nationwide or world-wide change. You 
have to start where you аге. Fasc, re- 
formist optimism? Irs not a question of 
optimism, sıys Taylor, but of the need 
for action. There are things to be done 
that have to be done, and we have “only 
begun to uncover the with 
which to do them." ‘These four books 
add measurably to those resources. 


n- 


fe 


resources 


DINING-DRINKING 


folks who gave 
an elegant 
restaurant in San Francisco, 


you 


French 
comes a new delight: The Marrakech, a 
Moroccan hideaway downstairs at 417 


O'Farrell Sueet and a passionately re 
created North African Happening—nar- 
row passageways, fountain and pool, 
Moroccan-colored tiles, lacy carvings, rich 


North African rugs, low couches, ham- 
mered.brass trays. This is not one of those 
franchisclike Moroccan restaurants (glue 
edge A of Authentique Wood Arch 
against edge B), it lacks only the mufled 
screams of the souk to be in the casbah. 
‘The waiter comes in fez and babouches to 
squat by your side and explain the menu 
in English, French or Arabic, depending 
on your native language. A lovely girl 
helps you wash your hands (indigenous 
American touch here; She looks like a 
frocked Berkeley undergraduate and she 
washes your hands only in English). And 
now the food: Salade Marocaine—toma 
toes, green peppers. eggplant, spiced 
with cumin, served with soft and deli- 
cious Moroccan bread. (It's not easy to 
cat with your hands but it's good train- 
ing in employment of the opposable 
thumb.) Harira—a soup of tomatoes and 
lentils, chickpeas, saffron, lamb, cori- 
ander, onions and ginger. Bastelah—a 
pastry of eggs, almonds, pigeon or chic 
en, parsley, onions, honey, saffron and 
cinnamon, which vaguely recalls an elfete- 
snob version of apple pie alamode. And 
this leads to the meat dishes: the usual 
kebabs unusually presented, plus such 
rarities as lamb and honcy, hare and 
raisins, and a most special Couscous 
assi—in this case, a savory semolina with 
eggplant, zucchini, carrots, onions, chick- 
peas, green peppers and raisins, making 
the lamb in the dish almost irrelevant. 
Following the main course come 
tries, fruits and mint tea. If you're not 
а Moslem and forbidden wine by your 
faith, you can order from L'Orangerie's 
1 .. Cocktails are also available. Miss 
Berkeley returns to rewash your hands at 
the end of the meal as you fall back 
surfeited with pleasure on your Moroc- 
can pillows. The Marrakech is open 
from 6 r.m. to 11 rt. Monday-Saturday. 
Closed Sundays, Reservations on weckdays 
are advised; on weekends they're impera- 
tive (776-6717). Forkless dining, informal 
dress. 


MOVIES 


Directors who yearn to ride a gallop- 
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the phenomenal success of Love Story— 
ick, studio-controlled Hollywood prod- 
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of money; at the same time, alarmed ob- 
scvers predict that it will set cinema 
back 20 years. In the pages of Variety, 
influential movie executives are already 
rumbling that the era of the director as 
superstar is over. Strange words when 
one stops to consider that the trend was 


as 


The issue of course is between. personal 


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PLAYBOY 


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films—works that present a vision identi- 
fied with the man who creates them— 
and those smoothly assembled movies, 
both good and bad, that bear the stamp 
of Hollywood's corporate image. The 
later are all-too-familiar relics of a 
time when major studios reigned su- 
preme and so many movies appeared to 
have been predigested by the likes of the 
MGM lion, Under the influence of such 
ropean film makers as Fellini, Berg 
man, Antonioni, Godard and Truffaut, 
American audiences became accustomed 
to films in which one distinctive set of 
perceptions | illum 

uteur” films was a label invented in 
the Sixties by cul ics at home and 
abroad, butting in merely to say that the 
movies а man makes are—or ought to be 

as much his own as his fingerprints. 
The idea was sure to cuch fire in 
America, where мабла remains а 
cherished tradition. The trouble is that 
U.S. moviemakers with a yen to do their 
own thing have since been doing it to 
death. Alter Faces, Easy Rider and other 
pacesetters of the genre, normally cau- 
tious bankers suddenly found money to 
back directors whose way with a camera 
has, little by little. become more and more 
faddish, capricious and self-indulgent. 
Thus, from a mixed bag of recent 
films, we see Little Big Man beautifully 
acted by Dustin Hoffman under the un- 
even | ic 
nature as a director might pass for 
homage to "rullaut, Fellini and every 
other old master in his memory book 
Writer-director Paul Mazursky struck а 
new low in bleary narcissism wih 
flex in Wonderland, his pseudo-S14 
self-portrait about а moviemaker-making- 
movies-ibout-making-movies-when-he-hs- 
nothing-else-to-make-moviesabout. While 
brilliant in part, John Cassavetes JTus- 
bands burns up megatons of energy 


пей every frame. 


ndi: 


dl of Arthur Penn, whose епа 


E 


arching for new directions in cinema 
but never knows where to stop: and the 
same might be said of Кеп Ruse'ls 
wildly baroque Tehaikovsky biography, 
The Music Lowers. In both cases, the 
director's personality stands not just be- 
hind his film but at times squarely in 
front of it, obscuring what was supposed- 
ly the subject. 

With noncommunication and a kind of 
glorified amateurism running rampant, it 
was probably inevitable that moviegoers 
as well as moguls would oveneact. Yet 
there must be a wiser solution than to 
restore the power of studio chiefs who are 
apt to һе overly impressed by the market- 
able virtues of countless sequels to Love 
Story. Meanwhile, several new releases, 
including one from the heartland of 
auteur cinema, suggest that film makers 
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Dothan Blumberg's 
Mobile Stoll's 
ALASKA 
Anchorage Klopfensteins 
ARKANSAS 
Fayetteville Gregory's 
Forrest City Taylor-casteer 
CALIFORNIA 
Costa Mesa Gentry Ltd. 
Fresno Patrick James 
Fresno Walter Smith — All Stores 
Sen francisco .. Top Drawer — All Stores 
Зап Јозо Elî Thomas — All Stores 
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віооппеіб Town Squire 
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БАЕ рог. 
itport 
Bristol 
Cheshi 
East Hartlord 
Greenwich jothiers 
Groton Goodson's 
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Hartford Sage-Allen & Co. 
Middletown R. W. Camp 
New Britain Raphael 
New Canaan Martin's 
New Haven ‘Stag Shop 
Norwalk Інгу. 
Old Saybrook Connolly's Mer's Shop 
Southington P. Hutton & Son 
Stamford Michael Oean iid. 
Stamford Frank Martin & Sons 
Trumbull it Pacific. 
West Haven cotra’s 
DELAWARE 
Delmer Gulver’s Men's Shop 
Wilmington The Gentry Shop 
DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA 
Washington... Louis & Dan Brown Ltd. 
Excalibur 
Raleighs 
Washington Woodward 2. Lothrup 
Il Stores 
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Jacksonvi Halpern's 
Jacksonville ery/ Viol — All Stores 
SL. Petersburg ‘Alpha Mens Wear 
Sanford Серр'з 
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Columbus. 
La Grange 
Millecgevile i 
Rome J. Bailey 
Savannah Morris Levy's 
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Tifton The Big Store 
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Aurora Lytlon's 
Bensenville Tioga Togzery 
Champaign Baskin 
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ienkerk's 
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Morris B. Sachs 


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Jack's Men's Shops 
Park Mens Shop 


Evergreen Park 


Galesburg Fred Schutach пе, 
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ME. Prospect Jack's Men's Shops 
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Palatine Squire on the Square 
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Woodstock Board £ Stovall 
INDIANA 

Angola Strock's 
Bloomington Whitesides 
East Chicago. Edward's Store for Men 
East Chicago Ben Lipman 
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Frankfort lavertys 
Gary Fran's Store for Men 
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Muncie 
South Bend 
Valparaiso The Oxtord Shop 
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Topeka Ray Beers Clothing Co. 
Topeka Mr. B's Mens. 
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Minden Mctrary's Men's Shop 
Monroe The Palace 
Monroe Iva Starnes Men's Wear 
New Orleans Porter's 
Ruston iva Starnes Men's Wear 
MARYLAND 
Annapolis Peertess Clothing 
All Stores 
Baltimore... Stewart & Co. — All Stores 
Cumberland ^ Kaplon's Young Men's Shop 
Rockville. Larry Alan 
Silver Spring David's 
MASSACHUSETTS 
Brockton Alleges 
Framingham The Wi 
Haverhill arretta Mi teret 
New Bedford Gollis of New Bedford 
N. Cambridge Congress 
Waltham 
MICHIGAN 
Alpena Топу & Norm 
Dearborn Dearborn Toggery 
Flint А.М. Davison's — АП stores. 
Holland ‘Ambassador Shop 
Holland Lokker-Rutgers 
Muskegon. Friend's Friendly Clothier 
Niles Pauls Toggery 
Dak Park Shifman's 
Saginaw Heavenrich's 
MINNESOTA 
Duluth MEK Man 
Mankato Wilson's Clothing 


aul 
. Paul 


MISSISSIPPI 

Biloxi Gene Warr's 
Jackson Emporium. 
Jackson Gayfer’s 
Jackson Jim's of Jackson 
Jackson MeRae's — All Stores 
Jackson va Starnes Men's Wear 
Laurel Hamilton Graves 
Meridian ‘Alex Loeb, Inc. 
New Albany Jack Mecullar Inc. 
MISSOURI 

Butler 


Cape Girardeau 
Kansas City Eddie Jacobson Men's We: 


Kansas City lothes Kloset 
Kansas City. Rothschilds Ail stores 
Springfiel A 1. August 
Springfield Cole's Men's & Shoes 
St. Joseph A. J. August 
ЗЕ Louis The Specialty Shop 
ЗЕ Louis Wolff's — All Stores 
NEW JERSEY 
Carteret Price's 
Cherry Hill Fimiani's Custom Shop 
Denville Gribben’s Gentry Den 
East Brunswick lers on the Mall 
Elizabeth Rockoff Men's Wear 
Hackensack Kartch's 
Jersey City Barrett's Men's Shop 
inden Palmer's Men's Shop 
Madison Kurtz Mens Shop 
Maplewood Peter Anthony 
Margate City Casual Shop 
Paramus Gimbels 
Paterson Kaser's Pants Store 
Pleasantville The Stag Shop 
Princeton Princeton Cio. Со. 
Summit NcElgünn's 
Toms River Feldman's Inc. 
Trenton Jack's Custom Shop. 
Vineland 


Dom Michael's Men's & Boys’ Wear 
Wildwood Allen's Men's Wear 
Wildwood Gidding's 


NEW YORK " 
Albany McManus & Riley 
Auburn. Homick's Men's Shop. 
Brooklyn Нем Brothers — All Stores. 
Buffalo: C & B Mer's Shop 
Buffalo. The Kleinhans Co. — All Stores 
Buffalo Riverside Men's Shop 
Dan A. Donahue 

Gimbels 

The Outlet 


Granville Wilson Clothing Co. 
Шоп Warner's Men's Shop. 
Johnson City Ber's Clothes Shop 
Mahopac Jacques Jodino 
Mt Kisco Cohen's Mer's Shop 
New Rochelle ‘Mannerly Shop 
New York City Gimbels ~ All Stores 
New York City Mearns Inc. 
Norwi Wirans Men's Shop 
Ossining. Ross Men's Wear 
Rochester E. W. Edwards & Son 
All Stores 
Rochester -McCurdy Е Co. 
Rochester National Clothing Со. 
— All Stores 
Rochester Stanley's Mens” Shop 
Saranac Lake wilson Clothing Со. 
Spring Valley Nat kaplan 
Syracuse Е W. Edwards & Son 
s = Al stores 
racuse H 
Toy Nachmzn's Men's Wear 
Utica Gerald's 
Wicks & Greenman 
Valley Stream Gimbels 
Watertown Boys’ & Men's Specialty Shop 
Watertown J. R. Miller Co. 
Yonkers imbels 
Yonkers. Wallachs 
Yorktown Heights ` Towey's Mens Shop 
NORTH CAROLINA 
Asheville The Men Store 
Asheville ). Pressley Ltd. 
Charlotte Harris-Hart Clo. Co. 
Charlotte J. 0. Jones Inc. 
Durham The Hub Ltd. 
Durham ‘The Young Men's Shop 
All Stores 
Garner The Gentry 
Greensboro Guy Hill Men's Wear 
Greensboro Vanst 
Lincolnton Al's Clothing 
Louisburg Town 'N Campus 
Releign. Hudson-Belk Co. 
Raleigh Nowell's. 
Salisbury ig! 
Southern Pines Sir Richard's, Ltd. 
wilson Moss & Co. 
оно 
Canton The — All Stores 
Canton (Cary — All Stores 
Cincinnati Pogue's — All Stores 


Elder—Beerman 


Euclid Gornik's. 
Fremont. Lytle's 
Marion .... Walter Axthelm's 
Newark Mitchell's Merrs Wear 
Stubenville Myer & Stone 
Wooster Nick Amster's 
OKLAHOMA 

Bethany lean Nash's 
Muskogee laza Clothier 
Oklahoma City The Crickett Shop 
Oklahoma City Napolean Nash's 
OREGON 

Corvallis Lipman Wolfe 
Eugene Ellingsworth’s 
porttan Lipman моне — All Stores 
Salem Lipman Wolfe 
PENNSYLVANIA 

Allentown Bohlen Gross & Moyer 
Beaver Falls Lisle T. Miller 
Camp Hill Stark Bros 
Chambersburg Roy Hays Sons 
Charleroi Frank's Men's Shop 
Erie P. A. Meyer Е Son 
Hanover Trone & Weikert 
Harrisburg Stark Bros 
Johnstown Miller’s Clothing Store 
Kittanning Moestà & Son 
Latrobe Mike Hughes 
Levittown Pomeroy's 
Lewistown eb Davis 
Monessen Gaudio's Store for Men 
ой сиу Ray С. Way 
Philacelphia. Jules Frankel 
Prospect Park Torelli's 
St Menys Ivan's Men's Shop 
Upper Darby Briit's 
York Flinchbaugh Bros. 
RHODE ISLAND 

Providence Donnelly's — All Stores 
Warwick. Mallachs. 


SDUTH CARDLINA 


Charleston 

Cheraw. 

Florence. Coker’s of Florence 
Greenville. Hayward Mahon Co. 
SOUTH DAKOTA 

Aberdeen Jorgensen's 
TENNESSEE 

Chattanooga Loveman's Inc, 
Chattanooga 1га Trivers 


‘The Courthouse Ltd, 
James Davis for Men 
Louis Lettes Clothier 
Lowenstein's — All Stores 


Boyd's Men's Shop 

Grissom's 

Minter's 

Arlington Parisian Peyton's 
Arlington Jos. K, Wilson. 
Austin Brittons Clothiers 
Austin The Country Squire 
Austin Iva Starnes Men's Wear 
Bryan iva Starnes Men's Wear 


College Station _ Iva Starnes Men's Wear 
Dallas Parisian Peyton's — All Stores 


Dallas Larry Thomas 
Dallas. Jas. К. Wilson — All Stores 
Genton Bomar's 
Н Paso va Starnes Men's Wear 
Ft. Worth ‘Sherman's 
FE Worth Washer Bros, 
Galveston iva Starnes Men's Wear 
Hereford The Brogue 
Houston Horolds 
Houston Leopold Price & Rolle 
АЦ Stores 

Houston. Iva Starnes Men's Wear 
Huntsville Bode Ё Tonn 
Killeen Cohen's Mens Wear 
Laredo Iva Starnes Men's Wear 
McAllen Fielder's 
McAllen Ken's Shop for Men 
Orange. Tony Griffin's 
Orange iva Starnes Men's Wear 
Pasadena Bernard's Men's World 
San Antonio. Frank Bros. — All Stores 
San Antonio ну Marcus £ Son 
San Antonio... Pincus Co. — All Stores 
Sherman Linxwiler's Men Ё. Boys 
South Houston. Bernard's Men's World 
Stamford Hinds Clothing Ce. 
Temple Johnson's 
Waco The Charles Shop 
VIRGINIA 
Abingdon The Courthouse Ltd. 
Cnariotlesville The Young Men's Shop 
Chesapeake The Hub of Virginia 
Danville Sater's for M 
Hampton The Hub of Vi 
Newport News t 
Newport News The Hub of 
Norfolk The Hub of 
Portsmouth The Hub of P Viii 
Staunton 
Suffolk Dp бой ies 
Vireinia Beach 
Virginia Beach The Hub of 
Wytheville The Courthouse Lt. 
WASHINGTON 
Seattle lopfensteins. 
Seattle Pacific's Big & Tall 
Tacoma lensteins 
Tacoma Pacific's Big & Tall 
WEST VIRGINIA 
Charleston’ Frankenburger's. 
Charleston Kelley's 
Clarksburg, Мејер 
Wheeling L S. Good & Co- 
WISCONSIN 

Appleton W. A. Close 
Appleton imbels 
Сибгһу Golterstein 
Madison Baskin 
Madison cimbels 
Milwaukee Berman-Bach Ltd. 


Friedman's — Ail Stores 


Milwaukee Gieringer’s — Both Stores 
Veste eos, Вап Sores 
Milwaukee. Goller-Stein 
ИШЕ  Sehmit-orter stamp 
0 The соёлу Suite 
— TENA 
Oshkosh W. A. Close. 
Racine George and Lester's, Inc. 
PUERTO RICO 
Rio Piedras Elegante 
ЫЕ, Aene 
Santurce Cabrer — All Stores. 
Santurce Clubman — All Stores 


41 


POLIA YIB OTY 


42 


distributed film by Jim McBride 
under-30 auteur of the New York 
school, whose earlier works (David Holz- 
man's Diary and Му Girl Fricnd’s Wed- 
ding) ave known mostly to film-festival 
buffs. Steven Curry and Shelley Plimp- 
ton, two Mod young-marrieds from the 
original cast of Hair, play the title roles 
with engaging innocence and seem less 
elL-conscious in their nude scenes than 
When circumstances require that they 
slip a tiule something on. Set against 
spectacular chunks of Oregon and Cali 
fornia coastline, Glen and Randa is 
superbly photogenic without setting up 
postcard. vistas. The time is 25 years after 
nuclear debacle, and. McBride—shoot- 
everything from а ruined Howard 
Johnson’s to a marvelously makeshift 
beach sheltei—captures with the greatest 


tion 


and environmental shock. Look: 
for a fabled city—a city of men or m 
the City of God—is Glen and Randa’s 
mission. But onc cin overlook McBride's 
philosophical pretensions and still enjoy 
his fascinating collage of a world-to-be, 


ation must € been to 
ind Eve. And McBride ret 


n> his 
toward 
all of pre 
caviously in a top, а sid hermit 
(Woodrow Chambliss) who lives by the 
seashore contemplating sunsets, Glen's 
miatter-of ппосепсе when he finds a 
ized old magic man balling Randa 
uel reacts as if they were playing chess. 

Aniculate characters who do 
but who talk, talk. 
they would like to do i 
iven plenty of floor time in the 
films of French writer-director Eric Roh- 
mer. The method worked in My Night 
at Maud's, a worldly word marathon that 
became one of last у 
But Rohmer has less 
for Claire's Knee, partly because the ac- 
tors who speak them are по match for 
Маші magnetic twosome, »Louis 
ant aud Francoise F 
ss of Claire's Knee 
1 month in the country, which seems 
longer as hero Jean-Claude Brialy 1 


almost 
alk about 
they dared 


u's surprise hits. 


ins 


paying regular visits to the lakeside sum- 
mer home where an old flame (played 
by Aurora Cornu, a writer and non- 


actress who keeps glancing at. Rohma’s, 
camera, as if for reassurance) is a guest. 
Two teenaged girls in the house—a 
nymphet named Паша (Beauice Ro- 
mand) and the diffident Claire (Laurence 
de Monaghan)—cipture the man’s im- 
arion, (hough it carries him no further 
than for a couple of long 
walks sing one rainy aft 

in conver with Claire, his hand 
placed ever so lightly upon her knee. The 
rest of the nalvzes Ше 
curious conuadictions and loy i 


noon 


pleasures with Aurora, who is quite 
talker herself, If you happen to like these 
windbugs, the words Rohmer puts 
their mouths are literate enough. If their 
rhetorical questions and answers leave 
you cold (we're still shivering), Clair 
Knee is about as much fun as a picnic 
with the Bool-oFthe-Monih Club. 

Women'slib types ought to be heart- 
ened by the personal feminine touch 
evident in Wende, starring actress Bar- 
bara Loden (Mi private 
life), who also wrote rected the 
movie, filmed it on location in rural 
Pennsylvania and kept her budget down 
to $115,000. Call the money well spent. 
Though inexperience shows in her am 
teurish film technique and patches of 
awkward dialog, Miss Loden's debut 
moviemaker is honest, unaffected. and 
surprisingly vivid as a portrait. of lower- 
middle Ameria summed up in sl 
heaps, beer joints, hocsheet motels, belch- 
ing smokestacks and the belching blue 
collar grabbers who don't expect a gil 
10 think too much. Wanda is their ki 
had anything, never 
у Em stupid. 
муу she, while diifüng aimlessly from a 
cıstoll husband and child to life on the 
open road—where most of the men 
she encounters use her up and toss her 
ide like Kleenex. The movie's best 
sustained episode is а Bonnie and Clyde 
odyssey with а nervous would-be bank 
robber (Michael E 
ing to mar Wanda's record for picking 
losers. 


. 

Russian novelist Ale: 
зуп, the 1970 Nobel Prize winne 
literature, is honored 
inglish movie version of h 
picce One Dey in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. 
Ма the arctic reaches of northern 
Norway, wh 
thing to a Siberian prison camp could be 
duplicated. Јан Denisovich has Er 
Jand’s Tom Courtenay leading а superb 
х ol British and Scandinavian actors 
who live theiy parts im a drama that 
ranks with the sacen’s most memorable 
tributes to the indomitable d 


the next worse 


most 


day out of more than 3000 days very 
much the same, as the here rem: 
occasional serap of narration, 
steal, malinger if possible, choke down 
Iutinouy fidi soup and join a work de 
тай, They discuss movies they have seen, 
books they have read, tell stories about 
the nonaimes for which they were im 
prisoned. Unsure of God in a frozen 

ibo where survival is all, they labor 
с beasts to gain pathetically small 
favors. One of the film's remarkable 
chievements is a sequence in which the 
menial task of laying brick and mortar 
becomes, as we watch it, truly heroic 
While Solzhenitsyn’s subject may sound 


depressing, the treatment here rises above 
commonplace fear and self-pity to dis 
cover universal human truths. Superlative 
photography by Sweden's Sven. Nykvist, 


some winterscapes of Jian De 
into poetry. Enormous credit accrues 
t Ronald Harwood and to 
inish-born producer-lirector Casper 
Wrede, who has reserved his own place 
n the sun with a virtually perfect film. 

Broadly played by Chuck McCa 
alumnus of TV kiddie shows, the title 


ое of 


The Projectionist is based on 
several back-assward assumptions about 
comedy. Audiences the movie 


in an idle way, mildly pleased by the 
fashionable nostalgia in its collection of 
old film clips—Bo, i 
pasted to his lower lip, Nazi le 
goose steppin: 

by Berkeley blondes tink! 
pianos. But 


ions 


in reverse. hordes of Bus 


g at white 
lone can't make 


пома 


the movie really humorous, nor does the 
asized reel 
role 


nd far 
rison 


hero, whose real lite 
vite comp 
by Buster Keaton in 
Sherlock Jr. One bı 

Г Sherlock has Buster, 
inept movie projectionist, wistfully pro- 
jeuing his own de a 
screen, where love and life become 
tiful with the help of cu 
elects. As The Projechonist, 
ays а fairly sure-footed 
res to tell off his boss (Rodne) 
14) because he's got а stron 
nd him, and he seems to be making 
fine with a saumptious girl (Ina 
Balin). Compared with the losers he 
encounters at the movie palace and pool 
he is a winner through and 
1. Thus his mov imita- 
tions scem merely an ego trip, and it 
no comic or psychological sense 


the 
his 


with 


ved 
classic 


quence 


an 


vera 


out 


in his fantasies he casts himself 
as а schnook—a flabby Captain Flash, 
who wies to be the big hero alongside 
Bogey, Errol Flynn and Cary. Grant but 


So docs writ 


ıs everything wron; 


producer-direaor Нату Hurwitz, who 
borrows Irom the best old movies with- 
out earning from them. 


An open-ended ihriller tends to be an 
escape hatch for wi Is too easy, 
after all, to spell out provocative riddles 
if they can be solved at the end by 
suggesting that the feverish protagonist 
may have been imagining t 
arist Paul Dchn—wl 
credits include the screenplays for Gold 
finger and The Spy Who Came in from 
the Gold—keeps the suspense trigger 
tight in Fragment of Fear, his adapta 
of a novel by John Bi . one 
of those deft Britannic yarns full of 


ers, 


theless, sc 


If you've got the time, 


We've got the beer. 


— 


——— 


— 


4 on 22 d 
=e 
ne-beer stands clear. Beer after beer. M 


(©1971 The Miller,Brewing Со: Машке, D 


PLAYBOY 


venomous old ladies who are apt to carry 
deadly weapons under their shawls. The 
story begins in the ruins of Pompeii, 
where an inveterate do-gooder (Flora 
Robson) is found strangled, much to 
the chagrin of her nephew (David Hem- 
mings), а reformed drug addict who has 
itten a best selle 


v about himself. Back 
in London, Hemmings and his svelte 
bride-to-be (Gayle Hunnicutt, already 


Mrs. Hemmings in private life) become 
involved with anonymous callers, bogus 
policemen and charity workers, and be- 
gin to get the idea that there is some- 
thing about Auntie’s death they aren't 
supposed to know. As the pot boils, 


director Richard C. Sarafian finds ample 
opportunity to demonstrate his skill as a 
manipulator of effects. Soon the objects 
of fear in the hero's physical surround- 
ings loom on the landscapes of his mind 
as well—until no positive identification 
of people, things or events is possible. A 
rather cool actor, Hemmings hasn't the 
ideal facial or emotional equipment for 
registering delicate psychic upheavals, 
but he gets by right up to the moment 


where the whole show dissolves into a 
question mark. 

Sidney Poitier, his leading lady Bever- 
ly Todd and veteran character actor 
Will Geer are beautiful people whose 
mere presence on screen is almost reason 
enough to recommend Brother John. Al- 
most. For a time, John looks and sounds 
like an intelligent topical melodrama 
about a black exile who returns to his 
Middle-American home town only when 
there are deaths in the family. After 
his sister dies, he arrives on cue, fluent 
in seven languages and speaking casual- 
ly of visits to Paris and Saigon. The old 
country doctor who delivered him 
(Geer) thinks he's great shakes; the 
doctor's politically ambitious son (Brad- 
ford Dillman) thinks he 
gitator sent to interfere in a local labor 
dispute; and the grade school teacher 
(Beverly), who has also seen a bit of the 
outside world, loves him mo matter 
what. Interesting questions are raised 
and a nice interplay of conflicts is build- 
ing up when scenarist Ernest Kinoy blows 
it all away on the winds of rhetoric. 
Poitiers lines suddenly take on the 
stately cadences of a tone poem, aud we 


an outside 


learn that he is Christ risen, come to tell 
a wicked world that Armageddon is at 
hand. Given the contemporary ferment 
over black liberati s something 
like a cop-out in Kinoy's posing a real- 
istic black-white confrontation and then 
ging God in to quell the argument 
NEW LAS BRISAS BELLS BY MR. HICKS Several recklessly funny moments de- 
frost Cold Turkey, but writer-producer- 

Choose from eight different coordinated color combinations. $9.00. divector Norman — Lears small-town 
comedy still faintly resembles the pilot 


dra 


Mir. Hicks Casuals • El Pato, Texas 79999 


film for a TV series. The overblown style 


Care to hear that high note again, my dear? 


You rascal, you've got it all together. Beverage chilled just 
right, lights romantically dim, zebra pillows fluffed and gor- 
geous Miss Schrimpf of the typing pool. Now, music. Perfect 
music оп Ampex Extended Frequency Cassettes, a fantastic 
new listening experience. 


Is she impressed? Heh, heh, heh. However, Miss Schrimpf 
was never particularly known for a fine musical ear. But, you 
are. And now you've got quality sound 

with casselle convenience. Less noise 

because of super-smooth Ferrosheen' 

tape. Higher output due to an exclu- 

sive formula that produces more. 


magnetic energy per square inch of tape. To swingers like 
you. Miss Schrimpfs are a dime a dozen, but Extended Fre- 
quency Cassettes are a bit more than 2 dollars each. 


Ask your Ampex dealer about new, extra-listening Extended 
Frequency Cassettes, another quality product in a full line of 
recording tapes; open reel, 8-track cartridges and standard 
cassettes 


Ampex Corporation 
Magnetic Tape Division 
401 Broadway, Redwood City, 
California 94063 
txrenoep 
Eur Y 


E = NY 


75 years in the same location. 
Because that’s where the water is. 


They grow the finest hops and malting barley 

just over the mountain from here. 

But that’s not why we built our original brewery here. 
Or our new, bigger brewery right up the hill. 

We did it because of the water. The water from our £ 
artesian wells. The naturally-perfect brewing water fi 
that sets Olympia apart from every other beer. 


Its the Water that Makes it Olympia 


Are you getting 


all the bubbles you're entitled to? 


= سے 


E : 


A well-known crock. 


Next time you order a crackling rosé 
wine, count the bubbles. 

Then ask yourself two questions: 

Does it crackle like it used to? The 
leading import doesn’t. 

And does it crackle as much as Paul 
Masson’s Crackling Rosé? Again, the 
leading import doesn't. 

The reason is ridiculous, but true. 

Yes, folks, there is actually a tax on 
bubbles. 


Paul Masson’s Crackling Rosé. | 


PUREE TIS SER 
ى‎ cara Necnon 


Paul Masson's Crackling Rose. 


Our competitors have our sympathy. 
(They have import duty, too.) 

But they don't have our sparkle. 

We're in the happy position of being 
able to offer you a premium crackling 
rosé wine, naturally fermented in the 
bottle, with all the bubbles necessary to 
enliven the occasion. 

And yet we can charge you less than 
our leading competitor. 

Not much of a competition. 


PAUL MASSON VINEYARDS, SARATOGA, CALIFORNIA ©1970 


` Playboy Club News F 


VOL. I, NO.121 ©} 


T, PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL. INC 
|STINGUISHED CLUES IN MAJOR CITIES 


SPECIAL EDITION 


YOUR ONE 


[AYHOY CLUB Ki 
ADMITS YOU TO ALL PLAYBOY CLUBS 


MAY 1971 


Join Playboy Plaza Splashdown 


Playboy Plaza pool Bunny service keeps good cheer flowing year round. 


For Great Golf, 


GREAT GORGE, N.J. (Spe 
cial)—For golf fans, the big 
news of this year is Great Gorge 
and Playboy’s magnificent chal- 
lenge to great golf. 

Playboy pro Pat Schweb— 
recent winner of the Golden 
Tee Award ав а member of the 
Golfing Family of the Year— 
reports that the two courses, 
one 18 holes and the other nine, 
ere in near-perfect shepe, await- 
ing only the warm touch of 
spring to turn a rich, play-ready 
and inviting green. 

Opening Date 

Keyholders and their guests 
will be welcome early this sum- 
mer at the Great Gorge links, 
which wind about Playboy's 
new $20,000,000 Club-Hotel 
scheduled to open in late ’71. 
"We're set to open,” says 
Schwab. "We've & challenging 
layout here, one that will be a 


YOU'LL FIND PLAYBOY 
IN THESE LOCATIONS 
Atlanta - Baltimore - Boston 
Chicago (Club and Playboy 
Towers Hotel) » Cincinnati 
Denver • Detroit - Jamaica 
(Club-Hotel) + Kansas City 
Lake Geneva, Wis. (Club- 
Hotel) • London + Los An- 
geles + Miami» Miami Beach 
(Playboy Plaza Hotel) - Mon- 
treal - New Orleans - New 
York • Phoenix • St. Louis 
Sen Francisco 
Coming—Great Gorge, N.J. 
(Club-Hotel) 


Go Great Gorge 


heck of a good game for pro and 
duffer alike." 

"The 27 holes are the work of 
top golf architect George Fazi 
with the help of Doug Sanders 
as consultant. 

“We think this will be the 
most talked-about spread in the 
East,” says Schwab, "Three of 
the holes go through old lime- 
stone quarries, a hazard unique 
in golf.” 

Our keyholders will have a 
special opportunity to pioneer 
this new golfing experience. 
Play will be limited solely to 
keyholders and their guests, 
with club-storage facilities, golf 
carts and locker rooms for men 
and women available. 


Time to Sign Up 

1f you are not already a key- 
holder, you still have time to 
join the exclusive ranks of those 
who will be sampling the great- 
est golf test in the East this 
summer. Just complete the cou- 
pon below and rush it our way 
for your Key. 

While Great Gorge will be 
the newest Playboy golf tri- 
umph, the Lake Geneva layout 
hes already won praise as a 
triumph of design—two 18-hole 
courses that add up to the Mid- 
west’s outstanding golf test. 

And guests of the Playboy 
Club-Hotel in Jamaica may tee 
off at the exciting Upton Golf 
and Country Club for a tropical 
round or two. 

Enjoy golfing Playboy style 
—the best style. Apply for your 
Key today. 


MIAMI BEACH, FLA. (Spe- 
cial)—The whole world knows 
that Miami Beach is the place 
to be when winter gets down to 
business. But now Playboy 
Plaza has transformed the 
Beach into a year-round vaca- 
tion delight, where you spend 
fun-filled days and ignore the 
calendar. 

То help introduce our friends 
to spring and summer joys at 
Playboy Plaza, Playboy has put 
together Splashdown, a total 
vacation package starting at as 
little as S60 for four action- 
happy days and three velvet 
nights (per person, double oc- 
cupancy, exclusive of transpor- 
tation, taxes and gratuities). 

Spleshdown puts you in un- 
matched Playboy Plaza luxury 
and surrounds you with parties. 
Splashdown even includes break- 
fasts and dinners. 

Gourmet Adventures 

And what dinners! Savor 
these choices: A gourmet ad- 
venture in the dress-up VIP 
Room... а swinging taste treat 
in the Sidewalk Café, where 
action lasts until the wee hours 
...a buffet served on the pool 
deck overlooking the Atlantic 

or a steak and show in the 
iami Playboy Club across Bis- 
cayne Bay. 

Splashdown is nonstop ac- 
tion, kicking off with а “tiniest 
bikini” contest and limbo party 
poolside, Науе a complimentary 
cocktail in the Playmate Bar, 
where Bunnies stand ready to 
serve you as you enjoy heavy 
rock or smooth dance music in 
an intriguing atmosphere fea- 
turing a fantasy in lights cre- 
ated by Joe's Lights of New 
York City. 

For the sports-minded, Splash- 
down offers golf privileges at 
the exclusive Country Club of 
Miami, home of the National 
Airlines Open. And of course, 
there are the other Miami Beach 


Gentlemen: 


== = си AND MAIL TODAY === 


TO: PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL, INC. 
Playboy Building, $19 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 


Please send me an application for my personal Key. 


favorites—deep-sea fishing, boat- 
ing and the race tracks. Plus all 
the sun sports at Playboy Plaza's 
pool or along the beach. 

Splashdown invites you to be 
yourself. If the casuel life is 
your style, pack a swimming 
suit or two and let it go at that. 
1f you're more dress-up minded, 
bring your new wardrobe; you'll 
fit right in at Playboy Plaze. 

Splashdown Stretch-out 

And if Splashdown's four 
days and three nights leave 
you hungry for more of Miami 
Beach life, you can extend your 
visit all summer long for as 
little as S20 per person per day 
—with all those fine brealcfasts 
and dinners included! 

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Certificates must be redeemed 
at Playboy Clubs. The maga- 
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of the piece is pure factory-m 
wood, reflecting the doughy sensibi 
that gave the world such slices of Ameri- 
cana as The Beverly Hillbillies. Yet there 
is comic merit in the idea of a jerkwater 
lowa town (population 4006) that sets 
out to win the 525.000,000 prize offered 
by a cynical tobacco company t0 any 


and fill the Community Chest, the resi 
denis of Eagle Rock naturally turn 
violence, neo-fascism, food and 
the local preacher, a careerist whose 
denicotinized physical desires keep him 
running home to bed his bored wife 
(Pippa Scot), Dick Van Dyke is backed 
by a fine company of eccentrics, including 
Tom Poston, Bob Newhart, Jean Staple- 
ton and especially Barnard Hughes, as an 
otherwise normal doctor insanely addict- 


ed to the weed. Bob and Ray, those 
hardy perennials of radio, are pretty 
droll porwaying celebrated TV anchor- 


1. Моге acute observation of humi 
foibles and less carnival atmosphere 
i have helped Turkey to fly miles 
higher 


Inhabitants of the 


lage of Tehouda 
Algeria, porwaying the inhabitants of a 
remote Tunisian village in Remperts of 
Clay, depict а current. life style that ap- 
pears to have changed very little since 
the time of Christ. The film's glimpses 
of daily routine are memorable— peas. 


ants with hard brown hands patiently 
cutting rock salt from the sere hill 
superstitious old women methodically 


slaughtering а goat for sacrifice: ог the 
face of a restless voung beauty (Leila 
Schenna), refleaiing that she has yearned 
тоо long for something more than а 
cient. ritua ach director Je 
Louis Bertucelli chosen to colled his 
material in docume form. there 
might have been a moving story to tell 
here. But generally ellusive 
acclaim, Ramparts fails as drama; it is 
too consciously studied, primitive, am- 
atcurish and often incomprehensible. To 
the accompaniment of Berber songs and 
prayers on the sound wack. some soldiers 
Come to sweat ош a strike by the natives 
while the girl, Rima, makes endiess trips 

from a well After the 
soldiers go, she too flees across the desert 
sand. A cue for applause from those who 
bestow their patronizing approval upon 
any backward art or culture—and the 
more backward the better. 


tary 


des 


to draw water 


Miraculous microscopic cameras travel 
through the heart, lungs, liver, rectum 
and other vital organs of male and f 
male human beings as part of a physio- 
logical color tour that is not for the 
squeamish. Infants, toddlers, teenagers, 
йай and oldsters far gone in senility 
e crowded onto а vast sound stage— 


some nude, some seminude—to illustrate 
the myriad ages of man. And a cheerful 
29-year-old English housewife is deliv- 
ered of à son in one of the most beau- 
tiful, straightforward natural-childbirth 
episodes ever filmed. Such cinematic 
oddities comprise the highlights of The 
Body, a quas-documentary pieced to- 
gether in and by producer Tony 
Garnett ector Roy Battersby 
who seem to be aspiring to a poetic 
hymn ro life The poewy is a litle 
strained. despite intelligent narration by 
Vanessa Redgrave and Frank Finlay, but 
The Body's imaginative photography 
promotes intimacy with a random collec 
tion of people—old and young, black 
and white, short and tall—who are ap- 
parently learning to appreciate 

bodies, Unfortunately. the 
too hard and 
of semiprecioi 
popular science. 


their 
movie tries 
nds up a curious hybrid 
s art wedded to ersatz 


Pity the poor advertising mau, whose 
frenetic profession keeps being con 
demned by high-minded moviemakers. 
The latest blast is B.S. 1 Love You (yes. 
the B.S. stands for bullshit), а first fe 
ture by Canadian writer-director Steve 
Hillard Stern, starring Canada's Peter 
Kastner. It may be no accident that 
young Kastner's winsome manner pegs 
him as а second-string Dustin Hollman. 
Playing а kind of post-Graduate who has 
achieved success in Manhattan as a crea- 
tor of zingy TV commercials. Kasiner 
leads a hopelessly tangled sex lifc. While 
the childhood sweetheart to whom he is 
«d cools her heels and her ardor in 
Connecticut, he meets а kinky nymphet 
(JoAnna Cameron) aboard a је and 
makes it with her in the washroom be 
cause she digs freaky scenes. Later on 
he hits his stride professionally as well 
as sexually with а high-powered lady 
executive (Joanna Barnes). No sooner 
does the boy wonder grow disgusted 
with his work (commercials that show 
looters in a riot-torn ghetto selecting the 
latest in color ГУ sets) than he discov 
ers that the boss lady and the airborne 
kook are mother and daughter. As his 
own scenarist, director Stern sticky 
time trying to correlate the moral cor 
ruption of the ad game with the hero's 


plunge into family affairs. The lad liber- 
ates himself, of course, by driving pell- 
mell to Connecticut and back, and 

cs by a split second to keep The 


Girl from marrying her second choice. 
Haven't you heard that one before? 
Pigeons gives feature billing to Broad 
musical-comedy stars Elaine Stritch 
and Melba Moore, though they have 
only а few lines apiece in а party se- 
quence. Elsewhere, the movie tries equal- 
ly hard to stretch a little into a lot, but 
its thi stubborn 


material shows а 


FOR EVERY VOLKSWAGEN 
SOLD IN ITALY 8 FIATS ARE SOLD 
IN GERMANY. 


FOR EVERY RENAULT SOLD 
IN ITALY, З FIATS ARE SOLD IN 
FRANCE. 


FOR EVERY VOLVO SOLD 
IN ITALY, 9 FIATS ARE SOLD IN 
SWEDEN. 


Of the fifty different kinds of small 
cars sold in Europe, Fiat sells more than anybody. 
This becomes even more meaningful 
when you consider that their choice is based 
on three generations of driving these various cars. 
And driving them under conditions 
that run all the way from the sub-zero winters of 
Sweden to the Alpine roads of northern Italy 
to the traffic jams of Paris to the no speed limit, A 
free-for-all driving of the German autobahn 
For those of you who are about to buy 
your first small car, the above information should 
prove invaluable. 
After all, when it comes to small cars, 
you can't fool a European. 


The biggest selling car in Europe. 


47 


PLAYBOY 


48 


tendency to snap back, It's the youth 
scene again, misunderstood and glibly 
misrepresented by British director John 


Dexter, who fills the generation gap 
with many shots of trembling leaves, 


dappled sunlight and other overworked 
symbols of innocence. The only wholly 


sympathetic characters here are the 
Hero's parents, as played by Kate 
id and William Redfcll—middle- 


ged, middlebrow and un- 
shedly guilty of all the counts the 
young folk bring against them. The 
promising possibilities of David Boyer's 
novel, Sidelong Glances of а Pigeon 

^r, are scarcely visible in script, 
ection or in the key performance by 
former singer Jordan Christopher, who 
makes the hero—a New York cabdriver 
with а degree from Princcton—seem to 
be acting by arrangement with a trendy 
men's boutique. 


Kic 


A heavy coat of grime lies over New- 
casde-upon-Tyne, the industrial city 
(coals to) in the north of England, provid- 
ing appropriately grubby backgrounds for 
Get Carter. It’s a pretty grubby story, all 
in all. starring Michael Caine as 
fessional killer who speaks in the accents 
of Yorkshire but behaves like wild 
Sicilian wh matters of honor and 
family concerned, His brother's susp 
ious de: ter home to Nc 
castle, a city abristle with shady deals 
and shady dealers, one of whom has 
enlisted Carter's niece to make porno- 
graphic movies. Which could explain 
why his brother began threatening the 
mob and so had to be silenced. Caine as 
Carter is so outraged by sex films that he 
efficiently shoots, stabs or drowns four or 
five people, including а couple of ип 
tng accomplices. Britt nd, play- 
wright John Osborne and lan Hendry 
are among а thoroughly detestable cast 
of characters, well handled by fledgling 
director Mike Hodges, who unllinching- 
ly turns over rocks to examine the slimy 
side of life. 


All the massmanufactured excitements 
of The Andromedo Stroin, based on Mi- 
dael Crichton’s scifi thriller, amount 
to very little by the time producer-director 
Robert Wise is through with the tale. 
Wise employs splitscreen and multiple 
screen gimmicks galore, and obviously 
spent a fortune constructing an under- 
ground biochemical lab out of stainless 
steel and plastic. Yet the movie has no 
point of view; it’s directed with a flat 
impersoi y that might be an asset in 
organizing a hardware show. Part of the 
problem lies in scenarist Nelson Gid- 
ding's turgid adaptation. Gidding found 
no way to keep the first third of the 
picture from bogging down under the 
weight of technical data about proce- 


dures, safeguards and possible hazards. 
Technological never-never lands were 
twice as much fun when James Bond's 
diabolical enemies used to yank the 
switches without benefit of a sing! 
briefing session. As the quartet of scie 
tists who are quarantined while fighting 
to save the planet from a baffling, deadly 
organ from outer sp 


ace, Arthur Hill, 
David Wayne, Kate Reid, again, and 
James Olson join in predictable pe 
ality clashes—with time left for Olson to 
measure the body heat of pert Paula 
Kelly. The blandnes of Andromeda 
Shain suggests that the threat of im- 
minent mass annihilation is no gua 

of high drama for an age that has 1 
to speak calmly of megadeath: 


RECORDINGS 


Melting Pot (Stax) is the latest from 
Mr. Booker T. Jones and the MG's, the 
cream of Memphisstyle rhvthm-and- 
blues groups. It’s a good, workmanlike 
performance but, curiously, lacks excit 
ment. A background chorus does nice 
instrumental flashes on Kinda Easy Like, 
but the tune, like its title, is a cliché riff. 
The band gets out of its rut on. Sunny 
Monday, which brings in an elfcaivc 
string section along with suggestions of 
Here Comes the Sun in Steve Cropper's 
guitar chords. 


А very pleasant collection of old folk 
ballads comes from England by way of 
Pentangle, a group that writes and ar- 
ranges simple modern settings for these 
tales of lost love. Cruel Sister (Reprise) 
is deliberately archaic, with instruments 
such as dulcimers and recorders appear- 
ing from time to time, Occasionally, the 
music moves away from the traditional 
feeling, as in the long ballad of Jack 
Orion, when an electric gu 
something called a dul 
appropriate suggestions of rock 
the lead singer, has a clea 
Judy Collins-like voice, which suits the 
material perfectly. 

This Is Bull (Paramount) is the debut 
effort by Barry “Bull” Gordon, а В.В. 
King discovery, about whom В.В. has 
id, "He impressed me with his intense 
feeling for the guitar and his quick 
fingering and a fantastic voice to go 
along with it. He shows the potential to 
be one of America’s greatest.” On the 
album, Bull wails through nine songs, 
slipping easily from a Jimi Hendrix riff 
on Feelin’ Pretty Good to Don't Сту My 
Lady, a ballad delivered iu a soulful 
n a derivative 
bag at this point, it's clear that he won't 
be for much longer. 

For students of the vocal art, we 
heartily recommend, as a primer on how 


voice, Though Bull's still 


it's done, A Men's Life: Charles Aznavour 
(Monument), which finds the renowned 
French composer-performer singing his 
own songs in English and to perfection. 
He's helped considerably by splendid 
English lyrics supplied by Bob Morrison 
(the exception is the beautiful Yester 
day, When 1 Was Young, with lyrics by 
Herbert Kretemer). The songs arc all of a 
picce— deeply moving. very personal, of 
ten tinged with a melancholy that lin 
gers on long after the final bars. 


Sally Eaton, who has made her m: 
with her performance in Broadway's 
Hair, comes across on her initial album. 
Solly Ecton—Forewell Americon Tour (Par- 
amount), not only as a forceful vocalist 
but as a talented composer and ly 
"The ten tunes, in t that is definitely 
geared to a young audience, include 
Charlotte, “about several people І kne 
who got pregnant ‘cause they didn 
know any better and needed something 
to love.” It’s all been nicely produced by 
Nat Shapiro and George Brackman. 


Marian McPartland, one of the better 
jazz pianists around—regardless of sex 
—has gone into the record business and 
done a very wise thing in recording 
herself. Ambiance (Halcyon) features the 
McPartland trio—Michael Moore on 
bass and Jimmy Madison on drums (Bil- 
ly Hart is the drummer on two of the 
cuts)—being superbly inventive through 
Cole Porter's What Is This Thing 
Called Love?, the Kalmar-Ruby antiqu 
ty Three Litile Words and a surprise 
package of originals. Miss McPartland's 
style is deceptively simple: she apparently 
works on the theory that pyrotechnics 
should never get in the way of the 
message. It's a theory that comes across 
beautifully in practice. The LP is avail- 
able through Ше mail for $5.98. Write to 
Halcyon Records, Р. О. Box 4255, Grand 
Ceniral Station, New York, N.Y. 10017. 


Live concerts on two- or three-disc sets 
have always been a problem. However 
the album is produced. you generally get 
a lot of junk thrown in with the goodies. 
The Butterfield Blues Bond Live (Ele 
offers two discs of joy without junk 
without pretension, rock without shuck. 
‘The set begins with Everything Going to 
Be Abight, a loping blues in medium 
tempo with a rousing finish. 
some interesting orchestral te 
Driftin' and Driftin’ and will drive you 
to make gleeful noises along with the 
crowd on Get Together Again. 

The title of her latest album, Odetta 
Sings (Polydor), is an obvious redundan- 
cy, since Odetta is synonymous with sing- 
ing. The opening track—the Elton 


explores 


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PLAYBOY 


50 


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Group 747. Roomy, rugged ond 
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night. 

Ventura's Group 747. From $27.50 
to $80 at better stores exclusively, 


For free “Tips on 
Packing,” write Venturo, 
Dept. PB2, Long Island 

City, N.Y. 11101. 


AirNito (1 suiter) 
Tokes the waiting out 
of flying. Fits under 
the seot ond gets off 
the plane when 

you do. 


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John-Ben apin blockbuster Take 
Me to the Pilot—sets the mood for the 
rest of the album, and it will lift you 
right out of your chair. Also on tap 
Раш McCartney's Every Night: the mov 
Give a Damn, by Stuart Scharf. and 
Bob Dorough; James Taylor's Lo è 
Behold; and the Mick  Jagger-Keith 
Richards grabber No Expectations. 
Odetta recorded. in both Muscle Shoals 
and Hollywood and 
drawer backing. 


cls uniformly top- 


In between seductions of titled Ladies 
and displays of prodigious pianism. the 
indefatigable Franz Livt found time to 
Compose an astounding quantity of music 
Mier rummaging through some of these 
century-old scores. British pianist John 
don has 
ng collection t 


ged io compile an in- 
u led The Mephisto Waltz 
and Other “Satanic” Piano Music of Franz Lisat 
(Seraphim). I's а moot point whether 
the prevailing emphasis here is on devil- 
ish dexterity or on dexterous deviltry. In 
any event, frenzied rhythms, shivery glis 
sandi and spooky harmonies are in copi- 
ous supply. Ogdon's list of Liszt ranges 
from sudi familiar items as the Mephisto 
Waltz No. 1 to such rare oi 
Czirdás Macabre. 


es as the. 


arist John Pisano and French- 
horn man par exuaordimaire Wil 
Ruff join forces on Under the Blanket 
(A&M), with each of them getting into 
other bags on occasion: Pisano is hemd 
оп bass, percussion and. piano, and Ruff 
handles bass, hambor 

vocal guitar. A number of first-rank 
rhythm men. assist them as the duo sets 
sail across such goodies as I'll Never Fall 
in Love Again, The Drifter, Everybody's 
Talkin’, El Gondor Pasa and assorted 
originals. The  Pisano-Rulf хо is 
smooth and mellow, even when it cn- 
compasses uptempo items, Herb. Alpert 
pitched in on the chars which we 
altogether pleasant. 


‚ percussion and 


Still another. Br 


\ group testifies to 
the continuing fertility of the London 
rock scene. Тап McDonald and Michael 
and Peter Giles (with а tiule help from 
Steve Winwood and Michael Blakesley) 
get together for MeDenald end Giles (Co- 
1 really delightful eclectic stew, 
impeccably performed. Touches of jazz. 
electronics, the Fifties’ sounds, old acous- 
ticd recordings, honking country saxes. 
movie music. skiffle bands and blues com- 
bine in two extended pieces: Birdman, a 
qu 
too cute musically, and Suite in C, onc of 
the few rock suites that lives up to 
pretensions. The approach derives from. 
Sgt. Pepper, but it’s more relaxed. and 
intimate. 


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PLAYBOY 


52 


new LP, Make It with You (Capitol), that is 
superright. The arrangements (with the 
exception of You'll Remember Me, chart- 
ed by Mike Melvoin) were beautifully 
put together by conductor Benny Golson. 
The material ranges from the lovely 
Lennon-McCartney tune The Long and 
Winding Road through the lilting title 
ode and on to the old Benny Goodman 
sign-off theme, Gordon Jenkins’ haunt- 
ing Good-Bye. If you're looking for a 
beautiful album, head Leeward. 


Bill Evons, from Left to Right: Playing the 
FenderRhodes Electric Piono and the Stein- 
way Piano (MGM) has to be a front- 
runner in the Longest Album Title of 
the Year contest. Be that as it may, 
the LP is a joy from beginning to end. 

п d no work is augmented 
by an orchestra led by arranger Mi- 
chael Leonard (who also composed 
two of the tunes), and the sounds that 
emanate from both sides of this record- 
ing are superb. In addition to the Leon- 
rd songs, there are Michel Legrand's 
What Ате You Doing the Rest of Your 
c?, the Burke-Van Heusen standard 
Someone in Love, several lesser- 
known items and 
Children's Play Song- 
with the sensitivity and taste that Evans 
brings to everything he undertakes. 


Brien Hyland (Uni) includes the youth- 
Tul vocalists big hit, Gypsy Woman, 
penned by Curtis Mayfield, and ten 
other tunes, Brian has brought in some 
able assistance for his album, too. Del 
Shannon handled the production work 
and, with Hyland, wrote five of the 
songs. Interspersed with the originals are 
standards such as Lonely Teardrops and 
Slow Down. 


The only thing wrong with Jimi 
Hendrix’ final album, rhe Cry of Love 
(Reprise), is that it’s his last. Otherwise, 
it’s a joy. He could tease a guitar 
producing fantastic sounds that nobody 
ever made before, and the ten cuts here 
cover practically the whole range of his 
moods and music—from  whispersoft 
blues to explosive, roaring rock ‘n’ roll. 


to 


Two particular knockouts are Astro 
Man, featuring a fiery double-tracked 


lead id Im from the Storm, a 
huge-sounding high-energy workout. Jimi 

y be gone, but he has left a superb 
album to remember him by. 


m 


THEATER 


Centuries have encrusted A Midsummer 
Night's Dream with gossamer, cobwebs and. 
yer upon layer of whimsy. Now comes 
Peter Brook to clean off the clutter and 
reveal the play afresh, It is as if the 
author's agent had just placed jt with 
England's Royal Shakespeare. Company 


and it had been given to the group's 
most inventive director. Brook merges 
characters, strips bare the foliage, puts 
Puck on a trapeze, turns fairy dust 
ing juggler’s plates and trees into 
sculptural coils, transforms the 
fairy forest into a circus—and yet does 
not distort the play. In fact, he treats it 
adoringly, with full feeling for words 
and nuances, although disregarding the 
stage directions and traditions (Bottom, 
for instance, wears not ап ass's head but 
the red nose of a clown). Sally Jacobs’ 
set is the starkest white—a high three- 
sided court. Actors and musicians, play- 
ing Richard Peaslec’s zingy score, romp 
all over the stage within a stage. The 
lovers arc dressed in vivid colors, the 
clowns in workman's homespun. This is 
one production in which there 
fusion of identities, The actors 
merely first-rate gymnasts, jugglers and 
aerialists but highiliers with language as 
well. They are well disciplined in the 
classics and it shows. A rem: 
in a revolutionary production. 
Billy Rosc, 208 West 41st Sti 
the Cotonsville Nine, the 
play that Daniel Berrigan, S. J., put to- 
gether in prison from the t 
of his trial for napalming draft records 
and from his own musings on civil 
disobedience, is а white-hot confrontation 
with today's most pressing concerns: the 
war in Vietnam, the crisis of ieadershi) 
morality sacrificed to legality. Catons- 
ville мег than fact, re-cnacted 
for a wider audience. Even though the 
drama takes place in a courtroom, there 
is none of the usual trial challenge and 
response, The prosecution is perfuncto- 
ry. After all, Fathers Dan and Philip 
i d their fellow protesters 
freely admit that they burned the rec- 
ords. In fact, they waited for the police 
to arrest them. The defense rests its case 
on the defendants’ moral character and 
the jury's conscience; and the judg 
gentle, sympathetic but bound by law 
ly rules such a defense out of 
All correct—yet even to blinded 
justice, the play asks, is not the burning 
of draft records less of an offense 1 
the burning of children? What can an 
one do to end the war? Can a President. 
bc prosecuted for not obeying the law? 
“We are not here to try the history of 
the world," insists the judge with grow- 
ing impatience. But that, of course, is 
precisely what Berrigan attempts in this 
compelling exhortation. At the Good 
Shepherd-Faith Church, 152 West 66th 
Street, 


twis 


The Trial of 


is less the 


When Samuel Beckett's Waiting for 
Godot was first staged on Broadway in 
1956, it was greeted with puzzlement, 
even derision, Since then, it has come to 
be accepted as a profound masterwork 


about the endurability of man, a corner- 
stone play of modern theater. Where are 
we? Why do we go on? As Beckett sees 
it, we know nothing, learn nothing new 
by experience, continue to make the 
same mistake of living—and stay exactly 
where we are. In Godot, two tramps— 
Didi, something of an intellectual and 
philosopher, and Gogo, a common man, 
intuitive, rather а clown—wait for the 
mysterious Godot not to come. 15 he 
God, or Godlike, or nobody? We, and 
they, never know. The play is all in the 
waiting—like life, as Beckett sees it, a 
pause between birth and death. The 
awaited New York revival of Godot, 
looks right. William 
ime sct, with its onc 
tee and a surrounding nothingness, is 
pure, parched Beckett. Anthony Holland. 
as the leashed slave, Lucky, the mad 
repository of academic effluvia, has a firm 
lock on character, and Henderson. 
Forsythe is an acceptable Didi. However, 
Edward Winter as Lucky's master, Poz 
zo, seems a mere blulEand-bully Teuton, 
and Paul B. Price is only a shadow of 
Gogo (played originally, and memorably. 
by the late Bert Lahr). Somchow, this 
too-somber production misses the grand 
humor of Beckett; even the running gags 
and burlesque bits fall flat. New York is 
still waiting for Godot. At the Sheridan 
Square Playhouse, Seventh Avenue at 
West Fourth Street, 


The Arena Stage company in Wash- 
ington, D. С. is secure in its reputation 
as one of the most productive of Ameri- 
c's regional theaters. This year, the com- 
pany opened a new auditorium, the 
500-seat Kreger, as a complement and 
adjunct to its Arena Stage. It should 
expand the Arena's scope and allow the 
group a greater flexibility. Producer- 
director Zelda Fichandler. never one to 
fear a tough play, opened the Kreeger 

h the American premiere of Peter 
Barnes's swage British comedy, The Rul- 
ing Class. It fits snugly—a trifle too snugly 
—on the Kreeger’s small semiproscenium 
stage. The Ruling Class is a sprawling, 
play, technically and intellectually—but. 
irs potent and very funny. Its about 
a lunatic (gleefully played by Douglas 
Rain) who succeeds to a scat in the 
House of Lords and frightens his stuffy 
relations out of their half-wits by declar- 
ing that he is Jesus Christ and mount- 
hg a cross to prove his point. Only 
when he is forcibly turned into a mania- 
cal villain (hence a sanc aristocrat) is he 
accepted as one of the ruling class. 
Barnes's style is a juggling act of farce, 
audeville, high and low comedy, parody 
and old tunes, but he manages to keep 
everything maliciously aflight. At the 
‚ Sixth and M Streets, $. W., 
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THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


| am 24 and my girl 21. We have been 
dating for two years and are contemplat 
ing marriage. My girl wants to be a 
virgin when she walks down the aisle 
and I have tried to respect her wishes, 
though it hasn't been easy. Recently, her 
roommate has been spending weekends 
out of town and my girl has insisted that 
I stay with her, as she is afraid of being 
alone. The result is that I spend more 
and more evenings on her couch in 
sleepless anxicty and I don't think I can 
stand it much longer. Shoukl I flatout 
refuse to spend the night with her or 
should I press the sexual issue to the hilt, 
if you'll pardon the expression?—P. W., 
Seattle, Washington. 

You should have a frank talk with 
your girl about the dubious advantage 
of walking down the aisle а virgin—with 
a nervous wreck at her side. Two years 
is at least a long enough acquaintance 
for frankness, and probably everything 
else as well. If she can’! see it your way, 
suggest she have a girlfriend spend the 
weekends with her—or with you, for that 
malter. 


ММ... causes the scum that forms on 
the inside of my car’s windows? Virtually 
no one ever smokes in my car, but there 
always seems to be a light film on the 
glass, even after it has been thoroughly 
washed.—O. M., Minneapolis, Minnesota. 

The light haze sometimes forms when 
a closed cay has been sitting in the hot 
sun. А plasticizing agent, necessary to 
keep synthetic materials such as vinyl 
seal covers flexible so they won't. crack 
in cold weather, may be volatized by the 
extreme heat (the temperature of some 
components in such а closed car can 
reach 200 degrees and more) and con- 
dense as a film on the windows. Wa- 
ler and some glass cleaners only smear 
the film; wipe the windows with a vine- 
gar-soaked cloth or a commercial am- 
moniated glass cleaner 10 loosen the 
substance, then wipe clean with a dry 
cloth or paper towel. 


1 have been going steady with my boy- 
friend for six months now and the other 
night he called up and asked me over. 
When I got there, he opened the door 
and was standing there in the nude. He 
asked me to go to bed with him. We've 
been dose, but not intimate, and I stood 
there in shock for a few seconds, then 
left without saying a word. The next day, 
he called and айй he was sorry, it was 
only a joke. I told him off and hung up, 
but he keeps on calling. Any suggestions? 

Miss C. M., Atlanta, Gcorgia. 

There's no defending your boyfriend's 
gauche approach. But the question is: 


Were you offended by his manner or his 
intent? If the latter, then just keep 
rejecting his calls; but if the former, 
then tell him that you consider premarital 
sex a serious matter and resent his trying 
10 make your first coital experience a 
kind of laugh-in. 


МУ, isn't champagne sold under the 
labels of vineyards like chátcau-boutled 
wines—H. К, Des Moines, Iowa. 

Because chateawbottled wines come 
from the grapes of but one vineyard, it's 
possible to identify them by label. Most 
champagnes, on the other hand, derive 
from black, black and white or white 
Pinot grapes that ave nurtured by dif- 
ferent winegrowers and then blended, 
The bubbly’s mixed ancestry therefore 
makes this type of labeling impractical. 
Although it may seem surprising that. 
white champagne can be made from 
black grapes, this is due to the fact that 
the juice is only slightly tinged by the 
skins. The reddish color diminishes dur- 
ing fermentation and is later removed 
completely by filtration. 


ДА friend of mine daims that syphilis 
originated in Asia and spread to Europe 
during the Middle Ages. However, I 
remember reading in The Playboy Ad- 
visor that Columbus 
back with them from the New World at 
the end of the 15th Century. Is my 
friend right—or do you still claim that 
you are?—S. M., Denver, Colorado. 
Our “Playboy Advisor" answer in 
May 1969 was based on the best informa- 
tion available al the time. New facts 
have since been uncovered in the form 
of pre-Columbian skeletal remains bear- 
ing syphilitic lesions, found im the 
Americas, East Asia and the Pacific (there 
is no skeletal evidence for syphilis in 
Europe bejore the 15th Century). Cur- 
rently, the theory is that Treponema 
pallidum, the organism that produces 
venereal syphilis, evolved in the early 
urban centers of China, or possibly those 
of Central America or Peru (or perhaps 
independently in both). If the latter, it 
may have spread to Asia via prehistoric 
Pacific voyagers, or from Asia eastward 


acw brought it 


10 the Americas; in any event, it probably 
entered Europe by way of the Arab and 
Turkish conquests, the Crusades, the em- 
pire building of Genghis Khan and 
Tamerlane and the expansion of the 
Ottoman Empire. Thus, by making war, 
men made it unsafe to make love. 


Although E had many sexual relation- 
ships before my recent marriage, my 
husband had been to bed with only one 
other woman, I know my husband is 


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curious and would like to experience 
other women, but E am very reluctant to 
him, for fear hell beca 
emotionally attached to someone else. 
From what I've read, mate swapping 
might be the answer to our problem. 1 
would enjoy it as much as my husband 
and I wouldn't be so worried about 
losing him. Do you think if 1 encourage 
this I would be playing with fire and 
could be burned? frs. С. P., New Or- 
leans, Louisiana. 

That depends on you. Why do yon 
think there would be any less danger of 
emotional involvement while swapping 
than if your husband went out with 
other women alone? If your fear is a real 
one, then it’s likely that you don’t trust 
your husband or his love for you and are 
suggesting swapping only as a way of 
keeping an eye on him. If you think 
you'll enjoy it without guilt or jealousy, 
then forget the rationalization about 
your husband possibly becoming at- 
tached to somebody else. Talk it over 
with him and work out your mutual 
problems—and interests—jrom there. 


enco 


v recently received a gift of 
rcc white and three yellow ones. 
Later in the week, she received an iden- 
tical bouquet from another boyfriend. I 
now wonder about the significance of the 
roses and if any other combinations or 
permutations of flowers have a univer- 
sal significance.—B. N., San Francisco, 
California. 

In the language of flowers—a language 
that dates back to Greek and Roman 
times and that both kings and commoners 
used to express love and hatred and to 
disclose future plans—a white rose means 
“I am worthy of you" and a yellow rose 
indicates jealousy. Since she got identical 
bouquets from two admirers, the message 
would seem quite accurate: The suitors 
consider themselves worthy of her and 
are jealous (three limes over!) Some 
other flowery ways of expressing oneself: 
А gift of arborvitae indicates unchang- 
ing friendship; a gift of basil, hatred; а 
gift of peach blossoms means "I am your 
captive.” Mustard seed indicates indifjer- 
ence; wood sorrel, jay; yellow acacia, a 
secret love. Hemlock means “You will be 
my death”; orange blossoms, “Your pu- 
rity equals your loveliness’; and, as 
might be expected, the York and Lan- 
caster rose means war. 


Bam 19 years old, a college student and 
am considered a “regular guy.” Unfortu 
nately, 1 am alraid Гат a homosexual. 

have had sexual intercourse with girls 
five times just to prove I could! succeed, 
but have nzver doré xo with a girl T 
really liked. I tried once but could not 
get an erection. On the other hand, I 
have come dose to falling in love with a 
few of my male friends, I have had a 
EEN сае (only cies, d but 


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with someone I didn't care for; if I had 
liked him, I am sure I would have en- 
joyed it I am now going with a girl 
whom I like very much but fear that if 
I tried to have sex with her, I would not 
be successful. I am planning to spend 
а week with her at a mountain resort but 
am à it will end in disaster. What 
should I do2—J. P., Salt Lake City, Utah, 

At your age, ils not unusual to be 
fond of your male friends, sometimes to 
the point at which deep friendship and 
sexual loneliness will actually involve 
physical feelings. But it’s a little too soon 
to label yourself as either homosexual or 
heterosexual when you have yet 10 have 
sexual relations with anyone of either 
sex whom you really like; your sexual 
experiences so far don’t prove much of 
anything, except that you're a young 
man who responds to a variety of stimuli. 
The instance in which you failed could 
undoubledly be attributed to anxiety; 10 
couple it with homosexual tendencies or 
experiences—as you probably did—does 
not necessarily follow. After all, of the 37 
percent of all males who have homosex- 
ual experiences to orgasm, only a small 
percentage become exclusively homosex- 
ual. If you do go to the resort with your 
girl, concentrate on her for the week and 
forget your male friends and your fears 
of what you may or may not be. 


JA white back. several of us were 
watching Dr. Strangelove on TV and we 
П went into gales of laughter over Ster- 
ling Hayden’s paranoid monolog about 
ng women because a man can be 
ned of “the purity of the essence of 
his precious bodily fluids" through sexual 
nrercourse. Later, one fellow claimed 
that, far from being a delusion peculiar. 
to the character Hayden played, this 
idea was widely accepted many years ago. 
True—W, Е, New York, New York. 
This fallacy was endorsed by the 12th 
Century philosopher Moses Maimonides, 
who wrote, “Whenever it [semen] is 
emitied to excess, the body becomes con- 
sumed, its strength terminates and its 
life perishes. This is what Solomon in 
his wisdom stated: ‘Give nol thy strength 
unto women. . . г He who immerses 
himself in sexual intercourse will be 
assailed by [premature] aging. His 
strength will wane, his eyes will weaken 
and a bad odor will emit from his 
mouth and his armpits. . . . The wise 
physicians have stated that one in a 
thousand dies from other illnesses and 
the [remaining 999 in the] thousand 
from excessive sexual intercourse.” 


1 have been married for seven years to a 
woman many men would call ideal. Her 
disposition is consistently pleasant, she is 
tolerant of my failings and her domestic 
abilities are beyond reproach, Unfortu- 
nately, I do not love her. She doesn’t 
excite nor arouse me and for two years, I 


have refrained from sexual contact with 
her because of this. I have had extran 
ital affairs, but she invariably forgives 
and forgets and tells me that she loves 
me. I want to break away and start anew 
but am unwilling to inflict further pain 
on such a wonderful woman, What do 
you advise?—A. C., Houston, Texas. 

Assuming that you've seen psychologi- 
cal counselors and otherwise tried to 
patch up your marriage, then perhaps 
you should face the fact that kindness is 
killing you both. Her kindness toward 
you has made it almost impossible for 
you to break away; your kindness toward 
her has prevented her from meeting 
other men who might appreciate her 
virtues, If your marriage can't be saved, 
then what is desperately needed is 
enough honesty to admit it 


Recently, 1 was asked by a friend to be 
his guest in the press box at the local 
race track. Upon arrival, I was introduced 
to several TV and radio persona 
due to my excitement, I forgot to place a 
bet requested by my boss. The horse 
won and paid a good chunk, the equiva- 
lent of a week's salary for me. While I 
sincerely regret having failed to place the 
bet, my question is: Am I morally obli- 
gated to make it up to him?—A. P., 
Nashville, Tennessee. 

Not really, unless you've got an ex- 
tremely uptight relationship with the 
boss and you're afraid to admit you 
made an error. If your status is so insc- 
cure that you think your job will be 
endangered, then perhaps you'd better 
pay him and be more careful next time. 


МУ... my boyfriend and I have sex- 
ual intercourse, І use a diaphragm as а 
contraceptive. When I insert it, of course, 
I use the spermicidal jelly, as directed. 
However, sometimes we have intercourse 
again a few hours later, and he daims 
that the jelly is still good and I don't 
have to get out of bed and insert more. I 
say its sperm-killing power is gone and 
I should usc a fresh supply. Who's right? 
—Miss C. T., Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 
You are. Spermicidal jelly loses its 
effectiveness after several hours, even if 
you haven't had intercourse. If you are 
going to have intercourse again after a 
few hours, you should definitely replen- 
ish the supply (without, of course, re- 
moving the diaphragm). 


АШ reasonable questions—from fash- 
ion, food and drink, hi-fi and sports cars 
to dating dilemmas, taste and etiquette 
—will be personally answered if the 
writer includes a stamped, self-addressed 
envelope. Send all letters to The Playboy 
Advisor, Playboy Building, 919 N. Michi- 
gan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611, The 
most provocative, pertinent queries will 
be presented on these pages each month. 


Consider the source. A lot 
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Budweiser Malt Liquor is brewed by 
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THE STREET TIR : 
THATTOOK ON TH 
RACING TIRES. 
AND WON. 


al Va 


Nobody thought a street tire 
could hold its own against racing © 
tires. Until we raced the new © 
BFG Radial T/A. 

One of its first tests was an 
SCCA race at Watkins Glen. 

The BFG Radial Tirebird—driven by 
John Cordts—was riding on 
Radial T/A street tires with half 
their normal tread depth. All other 
cars were riding on special ө 
mane rubber. 
grueling race at speeds = = - 
up to 160 mph. And we won. Р ы 
First in class. Second overall. P 

Then the B.F. Goodrich 
Radial T/A was ready for the 
big time. 24 hours of Daytona. 

In just five hours, we moved up 
14 places. Up to fifth in our class. 

We were on our way to a strong 
finish when—luck of the game— 
we blew an engine. 

But we proved our point. 

The ВЕС Radial T/A is a class of 
street tires all by itself. 

It’s as wide as any radial tire, 
anywhere. 60-series wide. That kind 
of vinin mend ees It’s built : 
with four big belts of Dynacor® ^ а 
Rayon Cord over a pair of radial Li RADIAL TIRE > BIRD 
body plies. That means it's tough. 

Of course, it comes with raised 
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the racing tires, you want 
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The new BFG Radial T/A. 
The one racy-looking tire that 
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| BEGoodrich / 


СА 


SMIRNOFFe VODKA. 80 & 100 PROOF. OIST. FROM GRAIN. STE PIERRE SMIRNOFF FLS (DIV. OF HEUELEIN). ©1970, HEUBLEIN. INC.. HARTFORD. CONN 


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Smirnoff on the rocks. The Breathless Experience. 
Consider a dazzling sea and wind-swept beach. The salty taste of air. You're with 
the one person in the world you want to be with. And the idea of a simple pleasure— 
Smirnoff poured pure and straight over ice— isn't really surprising at all. 


THE PLAYBOY FORUM 


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


GENERATION GAP 

Leners in the Playboy Forum fre- 
quently compare the current U. S. scene 
with George Orwell's 1984. Lately. I've 
learned that even the worst of Orwell's 
fantasies (children informing on their 
Own parents) is now a reality, as indi- 
cated by the following story from The 
Sacramento Union: 


[Charles] Raymond, a state rehabil- 
itation counselor who sometimes 
works with ex-drug addicts, is facing 


marijuana possession charges bc- 
cause his 12-year-old son com- 
plained to sheriffs deputies he 


found some “pot” in his dad's dress- 
er drawer... . 

Sgt. Richard 
youth told him the bags were 
in a neat row and placed as i 
were separate orders or purchases.” 

Alter obtaining a search warrant, 
Leeper reported finding more mari- 
juana, including 31 partly smoked 
marijuana Ggarcttes, in Raymond's 
home. 


Leeper said the 


Thomas W. Fea 
West Sacramento, С 


lifornia 


HOME IS THE HERO 
1 am a Vienam veteran with two 
Purple Hearts A friend of mine, anoth- 
er Vietnam veteran, has just been sen- 
tenced to from one to three and a half 
years in prison for selling an ounce of 
marijuana, I cannot fully express my 
bitterness against this Government that 
sends men into senseless wars and then 
jails them for selling a harmless herb 
while others freely sell gin and whisk 
W. Т. Williams 

Greenville, Mississippi 


DEATH BY SLOW TORTURE 

In your November 1970 Playboy Fo- 
rum editorial on marijuana, you published 
a chart listing the penalties in all the 
states for smoking marijuana. For Flor- 
ida, you listed up to five years in prison 
and/or a fine of up to $5000. It. now 
appears that the actual punishment for 
being caught with marijuana in Florida 
might be listed as “death by slow tor- 
ture.” That, in any event, was the penalty 
inflicted on William Baugher, 95, in 
Gainesville last year. Arrested for posses- 
sion of one marijuana cigarette, Baugher 
served. three months before his trial, 
pleaded guilty and spent three months 


more in jail while the judge awaited 
the results of а presentencing investi- 
gation. At the end of this period, 
gher was found dead in his cdl. Ori 
inally, the authorities claimed that his 
death was suicide; but, after vigorous 
complaints by the public and Baugher's 
wyer, a grand-jury hearing indicted 
another convict for strangling him to 
death. Meantime, other inmates charged 
that homosexual rape was commonplace 
in the jail and that Baugher had been а 
constant victim of such assaults. Late 
some of the inmates retracted this tes 
mony, for obscure reasons. Later still, 
another grand jury declared that vio- 
Jence and homosexuality were, in fact, 
rampant in the jail. 
No matter how one evaluates the 
rges and the countercharges, it is ob- 
us that young Baugher was thrown in 
among violent and perverted individuals, 
and died as a result of it, all for posses 
ing one marijuana cigarette. 
Robert M. Celeste 
Jacksonville, Florida 


OH, DALLA! 
After reading your fine editorial on 
arijuana laws, I thought I'd call to your 
attention the following example of the 
selective enforcement of those statutes. 

Last June, four young black students 
from California, on their way to Shreve- 
port to visit the grandparents of one of 
them, drove through Dallas. The police 
arrested them on suspicion of armed 
robbery because there had been a rob- 
bery in the neighborhood where their car 
was stopped. A search of the car produced 
two shotguns, 2 carbine and an ашо- 
matic pistol in the wank, The amed- 
robbery charge was quickly dropped for 
Jack of evidence and the four were ac- 
cused of carrying prohibited weapons. 
This second charge was also dropped 
when the police learned that the guns 
were legally owned by the four and duly 
registered under California law. 

‘Then, after these initial charges proved 
baseless, they were charged with posses- 
sion of marijuana. Two policemen testi- 
fied about the finding of the mariju: 
when the four were tried. The first said 
he had found the marijuana when 
searching the car but forgot about it at 
the time; he also said he found it in the 
middle of the back seat, that it was in a 
clear plastic bag and that the bag meas- 
ured about four inches by four inches. 


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63 


PLAYBOY 


64 


The second policeman said he saw the 
first policeman find the weed near the 
ight door (nor in the middle of the back 
scat) and that it was rolled up in a 
shape. When the “evidence” appeared in 
court, it was in an opaque wax-paper con- 
tainer, not a clear plastic bag. 

‘The guns were brought into the court- 
room on the first day and placed on a 
table facing the jury throughout the 
trial, although there was, of course, no 
attempt to argue that the defendants 
possessed them illegally. Nevertheless, 
pons stayed there, and stayed 
the ju nd, while the impression 
thus created was further heightened by 
frequent confusions between the Black 
Student Union (to which the delend- 
ants belonged) and the Black Panther 
Party (to which none of them 1 
longed). It was further suggested, al- 
though never proved, that one of the 
defendants had acted as а bodyguard to 
Angela vis; all that was ever demon- 
strated in that connection was that when 
she spoke on the campus where he was 
studying, he had, as a member of the 
Black Student Union, escorted her to 
the microphone. 
teen blacks appeared among the 
veniremen. from which the jur 
lected; when the trial began, the actual 
jury consisted of 12 white persons. The 
jury took only а few minutes to find all 
Tour guilty, with two terms of three years, 
one of five years and one of ten years, the 
last two of which have been probated. 

The judges temperament was i 
cated by a remark he made after the trial, 
referring to the defendants as "four col- 
ored boys." The youngest was 20 and the. 
others were 22, 2 d 27. 

My information on this trial comes 
from The Texas Observer. This ugly 
mple of sham justice is hardly 
unique; in Houston, Lee Otis Johnson, a 

NGG leader, is serving 30 years on a 
marijuana charge. Meanwhile, the sons 
of various wealthy figures have escaped 
without criminal records in similar cases. 

Stephen Simon 
Austin, Texas 


THE SHOCKPROOF JUDGE 

Luke Joseph Rener was sentenced to 
30 years’ imprisonment in Texas in 1966 
for possession of 
In a recent hea 


asked for the ove 
turning of his conviction on the grounds 
that marijuana is not a narcotic, that 
the evidence against him was obtained 
by an illegal search and that a 30-year 
sentence for this offense is cruel and ш 
usual punishment. Federal Judge William 
M. Taylor rejected all three arguments. 
Acoiding 10 the Dallas Morning 
News, Judge Taylor explained his rejec- 
tion of the last argument on the follow- 
ng grounds: 


Regarding the degree of punish- 
ment, Judge Taylor said such an 


FORUM NEWSFRONT 


a survey of events related to issues raised by “the playboy philosophy” 


ABORTION ABOUT-FACE 

cuicaco—When a Federal appeals 
court voided the Illinois abortion law 
and enjoined its enforcement (April 
"Forum Newsfront"), тапу hospitals, 
clinics and physicians responded. quickly 
and favorably. At Cook County Hospital 
alone, calls were coming in at the rale 
of 30 an hour from women seeking 
appointments, and one doctor predict- 
ed 50,000 legal abortions would be 
performed in the first year. But anti- 
abortion forces rallied swiftly. Various 
“right to life” groups strongly protested 
the ruling as legalizing murder; house 
majority leader Henry Hyde proposed a 
new state law that would circumvent the 
ruling by extending constitutional rights 
to embryos at the moment of concep- 
tion; and state's attorney Edward V. 
Hanrahan, joined by a Catholic physi- 
cian, petitioned the U. S. Supreme Court 
10 stay the lower court's action until the 
formal appeal was heard. Justice Thur- 
good Marshall granted the petition tem- 
porarily and abortion in Illinois was 
again illegal. Hanrahan applauded the 
action and promised he would continue 
“steadfast їп vigorous enforcement of 
the statute.” Chicago Daily News colum- 
nist Mike Royko observed sarcastically 
that the politicians who most strongly 
oppose abortion seem to lose their con- 
cern [or a fetus once it attains the height 
of several fect and is hungry, unem- 
ployed, pregnant or gets aborted in 
Vietnam, 

* New York City’s health-service ad- 
minisrator has estimated that 69,000 
abortions have been performed in the 
city in the first six months since the 
operation was legalized, and that about 
half of the patients were out-of-state 
women. 

* Students at the University of Maine 
have established a $5000 loan fund avail- 
able to coeds who need cash to obtain 
abortions in New York. 

+ A survey of 1190 students on 47 
college campuses found that 60 percent 
of the Protestants and 454 percent of the 
Catholics were in favor of legalized abor- 
tion “regardless of circumstances.” Only 
four percent of the total flatly opposed 
abortion. 


STERILIZATION BONUS 

HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT—Under provi- 
sions of a bill filed in the Gonnecticut 
legislature, any woman with lwo or 
more state-supporled illegitimate chil- 
dren will receive a $300 cash bonus if 
she chooses to be sterilized. The state 
would also pay for the operation. 

Meanwhile, the Utah legislature found 


itselj in a fierce debate over a routine 
bill to repeal a state law—one of two 
in the entire country—that makes sterili- 
zation a felony unless performed out 
of medical necessity. One of the repeal 
bill's opponents, house majority leader 
С. DeMont Judd, Jr., agreed with a 
Salt Lake Tribune reader whose pub- 
lished letter facetiously proposed that the 
state's symbol be changed from a beehive 
to а "pregnant Homo sapiens.” Said the 
congressman, “He's right. M's a great 
symbol. We have been admonished to 
multiply and replenish the carth. This leg- 
islalure cannot go against that concept." 


NATIONAL BUST DAY 

Defiance of marijuana statutes is al- 
ready so widespread that a group has 
now formed for the purpose of kiiling 
pot laws with compliance. The National 
Bust Day Committee, headquartered in 
Allendale, Michigan, is coordinating ef- 
forts in a number of cities to organize 
pot smokers for a mass surrender on 
June 3—both to dramatize the preva- 
lence of marijuana usage and to drop a 
monkey wrench in the wheels of justice. 
According to John Struthers, chairman 
of the committee, if a few hundred or a 
few thousand citizens descend on a po- 
lice station carrying joints of marijuana 
and turn themselves in, the authorities 
will have the unhappy choice of trying 
10 arrest more people than they can 
possibly process and hold, or sending 
home large numbers of lawbreakers de- 
fianily waving their joints in the ай. 


‘THE COOL HEAD 

AMSIERDAN—While Uncle Sam talks 
like a Dutch uncle to American drug 
abusers, the Dutch government is taking 
а more permissive attitude. A govern- 
ment pamphlet informs young people 
that “intelligent use of marijuana and 
hashish is harmless" and gwes several 
points of advice on how to be “a cool 
user" and not an abuser, The suggestions 
include avoidance of unknown drugs or 
combinations of drugs, keeping a supply 
of Librium on hand for bad trips, wait- 
ing a few weeks after а bummer before 
tipping again and remembering that 
“drugs belong to reality, but reality is 
more than drugs.” In a sentence that 
will raise the hair of American narcotics- 
law-enforcement officials, the pamphlet 
adds that one should not inject anything, 
but if one does, he should carefully steri- 
lize his works and make sure there ts no 
air in the syringe. (The pamphlet, how- 
ever, does warn that psychedelics can 
lead to flipping or prolonged psychic 
complaints, thet marijuana may cause 


“possible lung damage in the long run” 
and that the use of hard diugs leads to 
addiction and sometimes to liver damage 
or blood poisoning.) 


LAW 'N' ORDER 

ALBANY, NEW YORK— Two slate legis 
lators have proposed a bill that could. 
revive the frontier profession of bounty 


hunting. The vill offers rewards ranging 
from $250 to 52500 to any citizen who 


supplies information resulting in the ar 
rest and conviction of a drug dealer. 

Meanwhile, an even more melodra- 
matic proposal, from Alabama, has been 
rejected by the Department of Justice. 
Under this scheme, Federal money 
would have helped finance а special po- 
lice force working only at night, driving 
unmarked black cars, dressing in black 
“with no bright or reflective buttons, 
badges or buckles visible" and question- 
ing suspects in the dark, Conceived un- 
dey former Governor Albert Brewer, this 
SS-like apparatus was intended to psy- 
chologically terrorize criminals, but the 
Department of Justice said it would 
have been more likely to terrorize ordi- 
nary citizens. 


SEX EDUCATION 
WASHINGTON, р. С.—Ву rejecting an 
appeal, the U.S. Supreme Court has 
sustained а Federal-district-court ruling 
that parents do not have an exclusive 
right to leach their children about sex. 
The lower court, in a case brought by 
suburban Baltimore parents, had held 
that public school sex-education courses 
are not an “unreasonable exercise of au- 
thority” and do not infringe on the [ree 
exercise of individual religious beliefs. 


UPHELD 


JAJL-HOUSE BLUES 

WA n CA survey of local 
and county jails conducted for the Law 
Enforcement Assistance Administration 
has revealed some disturbing facts: 

* Thirty-five percent of all prisoners. 
are awaiting trial, and 17 percent are 
being held for other authorities or have 
nol yet been arraigned, making a total 
of 52 percent who are in jail without 
having been. convicted. 
bout 85 percent of the jails, even in 
metropolitan. areas, have no recreational 
or educational facilities of any kind, 
about 50 percent have no medical facili 
ties and about 25 percent have no visita- 
lion facilities. 


STON 


UNPLUGGING THE CHAIR 
HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA—Calling the 
death penalty “unconstitutional and un- 
enforceable,” state attorney general Fred 
Speaker, during his last week in office, 
ordered Pennsylvania's only electric chair 
а from Rockview State Prison. 
Alihough the order does not legally abol- 


reni 


ish capilal punishment, the attorney gen- 
eval cited newly-clected Governor Milton 
Shapp's announcement that no execu- 
tions would be carried out during his 
tenure in office; Speaker added that he 
personally considered the death penally 
to be “cruel and unusual punishment” 
prohibited by the Eighth and Fourteenth 
Amendments, 


LESS POSTAL CENSORSHIP 

WASHINGTON, p.€.—The Postmaster 
General has been stripped of Ihe au- 
thority to impound or return mail 
addressed to dealers in pornography. In 
a unanimous decision, the U. $, Supreme 
Court ruled that while the mailing of 
obscene materials is still a Federal 
crime, the Post Office cannot hold up 
mail pending court action. The Court 
decided that this practice violates guar- 
antees of free speech by placing the 
burden of proof on the citizen rather 
than on the Government. 


THE BUGGERS 

The Justice Department is seeking 
authority to изе wire taps and other 
bugging devices without prior judicial 
consent in any case involving national 
security. Allorney General John Mitchell 
maintains that the department already 
hos this power under the Omnibus 
Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 
1968, but Federal distrtel courts in Cali- 
fornia and Michigan have ruled wire-tap 
evidence inadmissible unless obtained by 
court order. The Government has ap- 
pealed in U.S. circuit court to reaffirm 
the right. of the Attorney General, acting 
without court permission, to eavesdrop 
on anyone suspected of activity contrary 
to national interest. 


DEFENSE OF POLLUTION 

Boston—Polluters, reeling under al- 
tacks from both liberals and conserua- 
tes, denounced as monsters by the 
radicals and increasingly threatened by 
the Government, have at last found a 
defender. Ayn Rand, feisty sexagenarian 
crusader for rugged individualism, de- 
nounced ecologists as barbarians trying 
to send mankind back to the Dark Ages 
and aiming at “global dictatorship.” 
There's nol a grain. of truth in their 
warnings, Miss Rand told a Boston Hall 
Forum audience: “Nowhere . does 
one find any scientific evidence, no, not 
even 10 prove, but to support a valid 
hypothesis of global danger.” Pointing 
ош thal life expectancy has risen from 
30 to 70 years since the start of the 
Industrial Revolution, she implied that 
heavy industry itself, and not medicine, 
must be credited: “Anyone over thirty 
years of age today, give a silent thank 
you to the nenrest, grimicst, sootiest 
smokestacks you can find.” 


appeal is only credible when punish- 
ment “is so greatly disproportionate 
1o the offense so as to be completely 
bitrary and shocking to the sense 
of justice.” 


I wonder what sentence for possessing 
а single joint would be shocking to rhe 
good judge's "sense of jus Boiling 
in oil? 


Tom Le 
Fort Worth, Texas 


POT AND PERJURY 

I recently encountered some asse 
bout n that were so si g 
that I thought of writing to PLAYBOY to 
ask you to evaluate the statements for 
те, First, however, 1 decided to do some: 
investigating on my own—and I found it 
very revealing to unearth the truth. 

The assertions 1 questioned were con- 
tained in a document entitled “Minutes 
of the Meeting of Monday, January 15, 
1968," distributed by the police force 
and teachers of Bergen County, New 
Jersey. In this pamphlet, Dr. Louis Sousa 
is said to have stated tha is 
the “number-one narcotic drug” because 
“the eflect on chromosomal orga 
tion [rom the beginning, from its 
use, posits a permanent effect throu 
generations” The statement. adds, "Very 
few fatal diseases are. ever transmitted as 
both dominant and recessive. They are 
either one or the other. But n 
addiction is transmitted to 
generations in both wa: 


recessive.” The scientific evidence 
porting Dr. Sousa's claims was allegedly 
presented at a conference of geneticists at 


ng to Oxford University 
and i Г no Dr. Louis 
Sousa presented a paper at the genetics 
conference in September 1967, I started 
hunting for Dr. Sousa himself. An ad- 
dress given to me turned out to be a hos- 
pital in Paterson, New Jersey, but mail 
sent there addressed to the elusive doctor 
came back marked with the directive 
RETURN TO SENDER—NOT HERE. | then 
wrote to The Paterson Evening News 
id an editor informed me that То 
Sousa, a laboratory technici: 
indictment for perjury and had left the 
10 escape prosecution. 

Incidents such as this lend credence to 
y people's complaints that the estab- 
lishment lies. 1 suggest that other readers 
perform sim 


n, was under 


n. The results cm be 
Barry Wittman 


Cherry Hill, New Jasey 


POT PROPOSAL 

1 have a simple suggestion based on 
the debate about whether or not pot 
leads to hard drugs: Legalize ma 


65 


PLAYBOY 


66 


and then set a heavy tax on it. All the 
money collected by the Government 
could then be used for research and 
treatment of pcople addicted to heroin 
and other opiates. 

Harold Greenwald, Ph.D. 

New York, New York. 

Dr. Greenwald, a PLAYBOY contributor, 

authored “The Call Girl” (revised and 
republished as “The Elegant Prostitute: 
A Social and Psychological Study”) and 
“Active Psychotherapy.” 


CHIEF DAVIS’ NEUTRALITY 

Chief Е. М. Davis of the Los Angeles 
Police Department sanctimoniously wrote 
to The Playboy Forum (February) as 
follows: "I believe very strongly that 
police should not lobby to make certain 
actions crimes, nor should they lobby to 
ci nate certain actions from the status 
of a crime. The police job is to effective- 
ly enforce the law. Therefore, you will 
not hear me proposing the legalizati 
of marijuana nor increasing the penal- 
ties for its use or possession.” 

Such an air of professional neunality 
is most praiseworthy, but Chief Davis 
himself has done a great deal to tarnish 
that image, according to the Los Angeles 
Herald-Examiner: 


A California police official charged 
today the Black Panthers are being 
“used” by Communists in а conspir- 
acy to overthrow the Government 
by force. 

Chief Е Davis of the Los An- 
geles Police Department said attacks 
оп police throughout the mation 
were part of the Communiscinspired 
conspiracy... . 

Davis and other spokesmen for 
the police bitterly denounced the 
courts and the Federal Government 
for not doing enough to help them. 

The revolutionists, Davis said, 
have “the court decisions of recent 
years to hide behind to perpetuate 
the revolution." 


Spare us the Communist conspiracies 
and bitter denunciations, Chief Dayis. 
As L. A. P. D. Sergeant Joe Friday might 
put it, “Just give us the facis. 

John Cooper 
Los Angeles, California. 


JAVERT LIVES 

A local paper has reported the case of 
an Army private, wounded in Vietnam, 
who was arrested for stealing an apple 
from a food market. The soldier claimed 
he had entered the store cating the ap- 
ple, which had been purchased earlier. 
In spite of the fact that he was а wound- 
ed Serviceman, that his story was at least. 

p the store owner's claim 
that he stole the fruit and even though 
the theft (if there was a theft) was ri- 
diculously petty, the soldier was kept in 
jail overnight because he lacked money 


to put up the $200 bail. “Irs not the 
cost of the item that is impo t," the 
prosecutor told the press. “It's the act 
itself that counts.” 

To me, that sounds like the attitude 
of Inspector Javert in Les Misérables: 
‘The law and the law to the letter. 

Ron Henry 
Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania 


YOU'VE GOT TO BE CAREFULLY TAUGHT 

In my youth, I had compassion and 
love for all people and thought that 1 
could never learn to hate. Certainly, 1 
ned, I would never fall 
bigotry of hating a whole group. Then, 
I was drafted into the Army. Just as 
Pavlov conditioned his dogs to 
at the sound of a bell, just as Big 
Brother conditioned Winston Smith to 
obey, the Army conditioned me—except 
that, not being Pavlov or Big Brother, 
it produced a different effect than was 
intended. 1 have learned to hate—with- 
out reason, without justice, blindly and 
passionately. I hate ofhcers, all officers, 
without discrimination. 

When I read in the paper about the 
two majors who were killed by thei 
own troops in Vietnam, 1 thought imme- 
diately, "Good!" I was shocked and 
ashamed of this feeling. I wied to re- 
move it; I tried to think that these men 
were human beings and brothers, but I 
couldn't convince myself, They ме 
still officers. I thought of their wives, 
their children, their other rel 
rowing oyer their deaths. It didn't mat- 
ter; I was still glad that enlisted men 
had killed two officers. 

I would change my soul, if I knew 
how, and retum to being a person who 
hated nobody. But I can't. I tell myself 
that hatred is illogical and irrational, but 
the emotion is still there in my gut. 

Sp/4 Elliott Sellers 
APO New York, New York 


MILITARY JOURNALISM 

Here at Marine Corps Air Station, 
Iwakui pan, a race riot over a year 
ago half-wrecked the enlisted men’s club, 
On July 4, 1970, some 30 inmates of the 
base brig tore the facility apart, barricad- 
ed themselves inside and took control 
overnight. Underground activity thrives 
here. Outside supporters help publish a 
regular underground newspaper and 


hand out antiwar and anti-military fliers 
weekly. Two demonstrations, one boldly 
staged in front of the base commander's 


office and both in defiance of existing 
orders, took place here in October of 
last year. Speed is sold openly in Japanese 
drugstores; marijuana is available to 
anyone, 

These phenomena are representative 
of the situation throughout the military. 
Te all adds up to trouble for the Services, 
and matters are worsening daily, here 
nd everywhere that American men wear 
uniforms. Obviously, what is needed 


communication, frank words of truth to 
help bridge the ever-widening gap be- 
tween the brass and the lowerranking 
enlisted man. And what more appro- 
priate vehicle exists to provide just that 
sort of communication than base news- 
papers? 

Here at Iwakuni, we almost 
We tried to produce a Service new 
with credibility, substance, meaning, 
nely, pertinent publication. But, with 
a new crop of local commanders, all our 
efforts were brought to a sudden halt. 
“Drop your weckly columns on human 
relations and black history," they said. 
“Kill that dissent story—we don't have 
any of that here. Stop running articles 
on drugs there's none of that here, 
either. 

Once again. American taxpayers are 
paying more than $20,000 annually for 12 
to 16 pages a weck of unadulterated shit 
at Iwakuni 

Sgt. J. Scott Wallace, U. S. M. С. 
Editor, Torii Teller 

Marine Corps Air Station 
Iwakuni, Japan 


VOLUNTEER ARMY 

‘Although I agree that there are many 
inequities in the present draft system, 1 
believe that a volunteer Army is no solu- 
tion to our problems. First of all, it 
would create two separate socictics in 
America. The first would be completely 
removed from military affairs, while the 
second would be devoted solely to war. 
This could lead to continuous warlare, 
since the first society would not be in- 
fluential or directly interested in military 
activity, while the second would become 
estless for action. 
Secondly, the image of the United 
States would further deteriorate, Present- 
ly, our troops overseas are tolerated only 
because it is understood that they are in- 
voluntary citizen-soldiers. Civilians the 
world over tend to dislike and fear the 
professional mi 
nally, an allvolunteer Army would 
mean that our Armed Forces would con- 
sist of men more or less permanently 
committed to an authoritarian, commu- 
nally о fe—yet we would expect 
them to protect us from communism! 
in an attitude 
of enmity tow: „ China and 
other. Communist . they might 
eventually decide that military totalitari- 
anism is superior to what they view as 
i chy. And should they wish 
us, by what means could we 


stop them? 
Ultimately, I 0 
our Armed Forces leavened by numbers 


k we are safer with. 


of citizen-soldier 
AL/C Philip King 
APO New York, New York 


FOR NO GOOD REASON 
In the December 1970 Playboy Forum, 
Sp/4 Bill Black wrote about his work in 


After the unveiling of his latest 
sculpture, Emile Gouche impressed 
the crowd by hand-painting his 
own cigarette. 


Now everybody will be smoking 
Emile: S hand-painted BEES ..almost everybody. 


e 
2 
z 
2 
о 
3 


Camel Filters. 


hevre not for everybo 
(But as they don't try to be.) < ау: dy. 


20 mg "tar 13 mg nicotine av. per cigarette, ЕТС Report Nov'70 


ТЕЕ you've got going... 
keep it going with JEB. 


EM 
"a. 


RARE WIL 
The Pleasure Principle. } X 


' оет or score ыо * 


Brooke Army Hospital among the crip- 
pled and maimed veterans of Vietnam. 1 
wish there were some way 1 could help 
these men who are victims of an illegal 
and immoral war. 1 also would like Black 
to have his wish to send unthinking 
Americans on tours of such hospitals, so 
they could sce with their own eyes what 
war really is; however, 1 don’t share 
Black's optimism about the results of 
such a tour. I’m sure some superpatriots 
would come out saying that such sacri- 
fices are worth while to protect whatever 
is they think мете protecting in 


inds me of a quote from 
y's "Notes on the Next 


They wrote in the old days chat it 
sweet and fitting to dic for one’s 
country. But in modem war, there is 
nothing sweet nor fitting in you 
dying. You will die like a dog for no 
good reason. 


Michael Domizio, U. S. A. F. 
n City, New Jersey 


Sgt. 
Ur 


CONTROLLING ROCK THROWERS 

Туе just seen the December 1970 and 
January 1971 issues of rrAvnov, in 
Which replies to my September 1970 
Playboy Forum lener appeared, One re- 
buual equated my views with those of 
Chairman Mao, but quoting Mao only 
showed that Mao and his kind believe 
in violence and war, so we'd better be 
ready for them, and that people who 
think an argument can be settled with a 
quotation can't think for themselves. 


Charles Hubbard wrote that if he 
were pelted with rocks by demonstrators, 
he wouldn't know what to do and 


“would probably look to [his] immediate 
superior, who could conceivably be 
тап such as Sergeant Serrano.” Is it 
possible he would be getting his orders 
from someone like me because people 
such as himself don't end up in leader- 
ship positi arles E. Redding 
calls me a flag waver; I should hope I 
nd that I deserve the name for more 
than just writing letters to the editor. 
Let’s get one thing straight; 1 am not 
against student protest. per se. What I 
do oppose is the way activist demonstra 
tors оп campuses infringe on the 
of others by preventing classes from 
being held, occupying buildings and 
blocking thoroughfares. And if anybody 
knows amy way other than force to con- 
wol such dedicated believers in peace as 
arsonists, bombers and rock throwers (a 
well-placed rock can kill, please let 
everyone else in on it. 
Sgt. Daniel 
Indianhead, Maryland 


am 


VIEW FROM VIETNAM 
My parents sent your holiday issues to 
me in Vietnam and I was especially 


moved by The Playboy Forum. Yt seems 
that а portion of American society 
has declared war on anyone who is 
young, long-haired, dissident, radical, 
black, bearded, unorthodox or even mu: 
tached. Any of these stigmas, it 
can trigger police brutality or even vij 
lante action by self-appointed protectors 
of orthodoxy. 

Well, I have a message for these super- 
patriots: Wait until the latest crop of 
Vietnam veterans starts coming home. 
We are young and we have most of the 
other waits you dislike, but we know 
how to defend ourselves. Your 
paid for a long course in death 
destruction for us, and we know more 
about those subjects than we ever wanted 
to leam. 

If any of you don’t like my looks or 
my ideas when I return, take me on. ГЇ 
be glad to show you what this war has 
taught me. In fact, you don't even have 
to jump on me directly: The first time T 
sce one of you beating on a kid my age 
for no good reason, I'm going to his 
defense. 

By the way, if you home-front heroes 
are so damned brave, why aren't you 
over here doing some of the fighting? 

Joel С. Branden 
APO S neisco, California 


ANTI-COMMUNIST YOUTH 
I'm a political refugee from Romar 
now a student in Copenhagen. Having 


lived the first 23 years of my life under 
a Communist government, 1 know onc 
nything youth should 


thing: If there 
fight agains, it is Marxism-Lenir 
any and all its forms. Every peace dem- 
onstration that takes place in America 
helps communism by demoralizing the 
Eastern European people, who feel that 
if young Americans are unwilling to fight 

Communist tyranny, there is no 


in 


hope anywhere in the world. I would 
like 1 

gressives and. revolution 

one of their demonstrations in Prague, 
Budapest or Bucharest. Then, Td like to 
meet the sime people ten years later, 


when they get out of the labor camp. 
Alex Botha, Jr. 
Naerum, Denmark 


VETERANS AGAINST WAR 

1 want to thank you for donating the 
space for the ad sponsored by Vietnam 
Veterans Against the War in the Febru- 

y PLaynoy. 
Those of us in V. V. A. W. have gone 
the establishment's path; we have been 
to the war and done the figh 
cannot be dismissed as cop-outs or 
cals; when we say the war is wrong, we 
speak from experience, not from ideolo- 
gy. As a spokesman for V. V. A. W. ha 
said, "We have returned from Vietnam, 
many with medals, many wounded, some 


without arms or legs or eyes. We have 
earned the right to have our say." 
Art Douglas 
Vietnam Veterans Against the War 
San. Jose, California 


SOLDIER'S REPLY 

The December 1970 PLAYBOY has 
reached me here in Vietnam; and The 
Playboy Forum contains a letter calling 
me "a little soldier" from William J. 
Kelly, an intelligent, well-cducated iron 
worker who possesses nerve, strength and 
skill and wears а plast g 
on it. He asks if I ever stopped to think 
that a lot of plastichats had already been 
over here. Well, big plastichat, the an- 
swer is yes, I have thought about it. If 
any of the men who beat up peace dem- 
onstrators have been over here, they 
must haye been blind to what was hap- 
pening. Otherwise, they would have seen 
that this is a senseless war. Most of the 
Victnamese people do not want us here 
any more than we want to be here. 
What we have accomplished in Vietnam 
isn’t worth one American life. 

Construction workers illegally attack 
peaceful demonstrators and then hypo- 
critically condemn the violence commit- 
ted against the police and the National 
Guard, Kelly says he will fight 
son or group that trics to t 
down. Can't he see that blind patriotism 
and support of a war that kills Amer 
ca's young men for no good ri 
what is tearing our country down? Can't 
he see that this fanaticism could lead 
not just to tearing America down but 
to a war that could destroy the whole 
world? 


w 


Sp/4 Keith A. Wither 
APO San Francisco, Californ 


BLOWING HARD-HATS’ MINDS 

The letter in the January Playboy 
Forum from a woman who had been 
ased by construction workers re- 
aded me of an experience 1 had. 
Every day on my way to work through 
midtown Manhattan last summer, I was 
the target of shouted remarks from a 
group of hard-hats. | was amused, an- 
noyed and sometimes—early in the 
morning. when the street was almost 
descrted — frightened. 

I wear my hair short and have an 
almost nonexistent bust linc. One d 1 
wore a knit pants suit and looked espe- 
cially boyish. As I passed the construc- 
ion site, the hard-hats started up their 
usual morning greetings. When 1 heard, 
“Oh, baby, give it to me!" for the third 
time, I suddenly began batting my eye- 
lids and taking mincing steps in a cari- 
cature of a camping homosexual. “Oh, 
you're so cute!" I squealed and wrig- 
gled aw: 

‘They were infuriated. One screamed, 
"Didn't he look like a girl? Thosc 
fucking fags are going to ruin the world 
for everybody!" 1 hope 1 really blew his 


m 


69 


PLAYBOY 


70 


mind. My husband says I'm lucky I 
wasn't killed, 

Lynda Bull 

Old Bridge, New Jersey 


PLAYBOY AS OPPRESSOR 

While 1 have never doubted that the 
editors of рілувоу despise human op- 
pression and try to arouse public opinion 
to alleviate it, I think you took too self- 


a s supporters in 
гу Playboy Forum. Kunstler was 
simply pointing out that а great many 
people do not have the resources, either 
financial or . to handle the 
epicurean life style depicted by rLaynoy 
nd its advertisers. And people can't 
relate to this pleasant vision of the world 
they are shown how to achieve it. 
Right now, they feel cheated and left ot 
Admittedly, no helpful purpose would 
be served by liquidating the assets of 
PLAYBOY in order to give 40,000,000 un- 
derprivileged people $2.50 apiece. but 
certainly more effort and leadership are 
required if the social evolution PLAYBOY 
wants is to proceed. You criticize over- 
simplified moralizing in your editorial 


statement, but your own recommenda- 
tions are "greater individual freedom . 
continued scientific and technical prog 
ress and . . . more vigorous efforts to 
establish. political equality and. equality 
of opportunity.” Fo offer such resound- 
ing phrases in place of specific programs 
and actions amounts to a tacit accept 


ance of things as they are until change 
peaceably comes about. Nowadays, when 
time is running out for our species, this 


responsible and oppressive. 
M. F. Marsh 

Ocean City, New Jersey 

Kunstle's objection to riaxwoy was 
based on his clim that the affluence 
this magazine portrays was achieved 
through the exploitation of workers and 
poor people around the world. He 
implied that since PLAYBoY approves 
certain products and benefits of the capi- 
lalist system, we must also endorse every 
evil that system entails as presently prac- 
liced. He also assumes—as you seem to— 
that the only way these goods and benefits 
can be enjoyed by some is а! the ex. 
pense of others. The notion that there’ 
only so much to go around may be true 
for scarcity economics in which there is 
no technological progress. It is obviously 
untrue for modern Western society. Sci- 
entific and technological evolution are 
constantly increasing and improving the 
goods and services available in the world, 
Al the same time, contraceptive tech- 
nology makes population reduction pos- 
sible, Thus, we're not in the position 
of having to accept things until change 
comes about; change has been and is 
occurring and its rale is accelerating. If 
“time is running oul for our species,” it 
is mainly because there ате people— 
some of them in the establishment and 


some among the oppressed—who have 
more faith in brute force than in the 
creations of the human brain. 


COSTLY CATHARSIS 
R. A. Laud Humphreys, a sociologist 
and associate professor at the School of 
Criminal Justice of the State University 
of New York at Albany, has been found 
guilty in Illinois of destroying Govern- 
ment property. His crime was tear 
a photograph of Richard M. 
worth less than a dollar. 

Here is what happened: 
the time of the Cambod 
Humphreys was teaching at the Ed- 
wardsville campus of Southem Illinois 
University. Some students wanted to 
strike to protest the Administration's 
action, while others were for going to 
school as usual, Humphreys helped to 
turn an angry crowd into a forum for 
dialog. Subsequently, some students sug- 
gested vandalizing campus buildings. 
Humphreys proposed a march to the Ed- 
wardsville courthouse instead, One news- 
paper account indicated that the size of 
the crowd decreased from more than 1000 
students to approximately 100. Some of 
those who showed up eventually began 
urging their fellow students to "trash" 
Main Street, and Humphreys then sug- 
gested marching to the local draft board 
10 lodge a protest. 

Photographs and. published articles by 
on-the-scene reporters noted that "the 
demonstration ended up being а noisy 
one, with lots of chanting, but was 
otherwise peaceful" When some stu- 
dents wanted to burn the board's files, 
Humphreys is said to have ripped a 
photograph of Richard Nixon from the 
nd to have torn it up, distributing 
pieces то the students and urging them 
to go to their homes and tell neighbors 
what they thought of Ni "Ihe 
g of the picture was the catharsis 
—the climax—after which things calmed 
down, one reporter noted. There is 
every reason 10 believe that Humphreys’ 
actions served to divert students from 
iolence and prevented destruction of 
property, public and private. There was 
window breaking and fire bombing at 
the mpus of 5.1.0. and 

i i у, but at 
the Edwardsville campus, confrontations 
stayed on the verbal level. 

For 20 years, first as an Episcopal 
priest and Tater as a sociologist, Laud 
Humphreys has been involved in no 
violent protests and political action— 
ating restaurants and churches in 
do, Oklahoma, Kansas and Mis: 
and in peace demonstrations in St. 
Louis. Humphreys also dared to do so- 
ciologicil research on а taboo topic, 
male homosexuality. His book, Tearoom 
Trade: Impersonal Sex in Public Places, 
received the С. Wright Mills Award from 
the Society for the Study of Social Prob- 


No 


lems for its compassionate analysis and 
its strong implications for public policy. 
Since Humphreys’ research qualifies him 
to testify for the defense in trials involv- 
ing the issue of homosexuality (especially 
regarding police entrapment procedures), 
we cannot ignore the possibility that this 
trial was designed to interfere with his 
sociological and scientific, as well as his 
political, activities. The Federal agents 
who arrested him spoke knowledgeably 
of his research and his book. 

After Humphreys pleaded guilty on 
advice of counsel, a Federal judge sen- 
tenced him to four months in jail and 
probation. Free on bond 
appeal of the sentence, Hum- 
phreys said, "If this is the kind of justice 
rts mete out, then God help our 


Howard S. Becker 
James Е. Short, Jr. 

Cochairmen 

Laud Humphreys Defense Fund 
Evanston, Illinois 


INVOLUNTARY PSYCHOTHERAPY 

A letter from Dr. Thomas S. Szasz 
published in the January Playboy Fo- 
rum describes a new organization, the 
American Association for the Abolition 
of Involuntary Mental Hospitalization, 
Inc. Apparently, A. A. A. I. M. H. believes 
that a mentally ill or emotionally di: 
turbed person should be treated or hospi- 
talized only if he seeks help voluntarily 
or agrees to ment at someone else's 
uggcstion. 

I am well arc many pcople, 
that there are injustices in the care and 
treatment of psychiatric patients. Dr. 
Srasz is certainly to be commended for 
exposing these injustices and trying to 
root them out. However, even with the 
doctor's credentials and waining in the 
field of psychiatry, I believe he has over- 
looked several important facts. 

First, a severely disturbed or psychotic 
adult does not always recognize his need 
for treatment, nor does the psychotic per- 
son usually accept graciously the sugges- 
tion from another person that he seek 
psychiatric help. However, since these 
persons can be potentially dangerous to 
themselves and others, is there real jus- 
е in allowing them to r 
ty without ever attempting to treat the 
illness simply because the psychotic is 
too sick to submit himself voluntarily 
for treatment? 

Another problem Dr. Szasz appears to 
have overlooked is that of the emotion- 
ally disturbed child. Perhaps the doctor 
does not personally work with children, 
but I am sure many of his colleagues do. 
Can an autistic child voluntarily ask for 
help? Dr. Szasz might say that any doc- 
tor should treat a child if the parents or 
guardian came to him for assi 
However, I've worked very closely with all 
types of emotionally disturbed children, 


are, 


main in socie- 


еаг%9995 
Delieve59995 


Everybody's ads try and tell you their 
hundred dollar stereo sounds likea million 
bucks. 

Don't you believe a word you read. 

There'sonly one way to tell how any 
stereo sounds. Go listen to it. If it sounds like 
a million, your ear will tell you. 

Take our hundred dollar stereo, for 
example. 

Looks nice in the picture, right? Nice 
walnut grain feeling. Plenty of controls. 
Separate ones for bass, treble, stereo 
balance, and loudness. Headphone jack if 


*Manutacturer's suggested retail price, Model MMIZWX, $99.95. 


you ever get into the headphonething. 

What you can't see is nice, too. 40 watts 
of peak music power. BSR automatic 
turntable. Diamond needle. But best of all, 
two 4" full-range air suspension speakers 
that really pour out the sound. 

That's the Sylvania MM12Wx. 

But how do you know all this isn't justa 
lot of words? You don’t. Until you go and 
hear it. 

Once you hear it, you'll believe it. 


GB SVLVANIA 


PLAYBOY 


72 


ages five to twelve, with illnesses rang- 
ing from autism to paranoid schizo- 
phrenia, and I know that parents are not 
always that enlightened. Many of the 
children with whom I worked would 
never have received treatment at all 
had not their parents been forced to 
bring them to the hospital by the Jaw 
requiring children to be in school. 
These children could have been helped 
much more successfully if they had re- 
ceived treatment early, but their illnesses 
progressed until someone in authority 
noticed the child missing from school 
enrollment. In these cases, and in many 
cases still unaided because the parents 
refuse to accept the fact of emotional 
illness or to seek help, is it justice to 
deny these children treatment? Are the 
child’s dignity and liberty best served by 
ignoring the problem or by forcing the 
parents to allow the child to receive 
psychotherapy, thereby giving him a 
chance to lead a normal life before the 
illness progresses past the treatable stage? 

Perhaps Dr. Szasz took these types of 


cases into consideration when drafting 
the aims of the A.A. A.I. M.H., but I 


see no sign of this in his letter, Maybe 
Dr. Szasz and the members of the organi- 
zation should reconsider the idea of 
complete abolition of involuntary mental 
hospitalization. Justice that deprives a 
person of a chance to lead a normal life 
through care and treatment does not 
seem just to me. 


Vicki Sheppard 
Dallas, Te 


Di 


5 Szasz replies: 


Concerning the “psychotic айий," 
Miss Sheppard repeats what is, in 
effect, the traditional psychiatric def- 
inition of psychosis, Heresy was de- 
fined similarly; that is, as deviance 
from the true faith and the failure 
to “recognize” one’s error. Potential 
dangerousness to self and others are 
two separale issues. In this connec- 
tion, too, Miss Sheppard accepts the 
traditional psychiatric assumption 
that “mental patients” (however that 
category is constituted) are “poten- 
tially dangerous,” whereas others are 
not (otherwise, why detain only the 
former?), This assumption is not sup- 
ported by evidence. In addition, we 
reject the proposition and policy that 
“potential dangerousness” justifies 
punishment by preventive imprison- 
ment, The welfare of “mentally dis- 
turbed children” is important. There 
аге many organizations devoted to 
their cause, The A. A. A. I. M. H. is 
not one of them. Regarding М 
Sheppard's concluding comment, we 
believe that the abolition of involun- 
tary mental hospitalization “deprives” 
a person of care and treatment in ex- 
actly the same sense and same way as 
the abolition of involuntary servitude 


“deprived” the American Negro slave 
of employment and livelihood. 

In short, our position is that: (1) 
An adult should have the right to 
seek and reject psychiatric treatment. 
(2) Concepts such as “тета! illness,” 
“psychosis,” etc. do not justify the 
imposition of psychiatric interven- 
lions on persons against their will. 
(3) An individual should have the 
right to be dangerous to himself (in- 
cluding committing suicide). (4) “Po- 
tential dangerousness” to others 
(whatever that is) does not justify 
preventive detention, (5) Since the 
central aim of the A. A. A. I. M. H. 
is abolishing involuntary psychiatric 
interventions, the provision of prop- 
er trealment for “emotionally dis- 
turbed children” falls outside the 
scope of the association's concerns. 


‘MENTAL HEALTH, OR ELSE 

The January Playboy Forum discloses 
that William L. McDonough has been re- 
leased; I'm delighted that this episode of. 
involuntary commitment has come to an 
end. I was also delighted to read the 
letter from Dr. Thomas $. Szasz in the 
same issue describing the formation of 
the American Association for the Aboli: 
tion of Involuntary Mental Hospitaliza- 
tion, Inc. It seems there is hope that the 
use of psychiatry as a weapon, rather 
than as a healing art, may be gradually, 
if not rapidly, climinated; however, the 
forces supporting such psychiatric mal- 
practices as involuntary commitment 
and screening personnel out of jobs are 
very powerful, Only the strong pressure 


of public opinion h your influ- 
ential and humanitarian magazine can 
ге, сап guarantee success 


nd the A. A. A. LM. H. 
For what it's worth, I would like to 
help in whatever way I can. I have 
myself suffered considerably from the 
unasked-for interference of a psychiatrist 
when I was being interviewed for a job 
as a college instructor. The experience 
was related in the November 1968 
Playboy Forum with my name and ad- 
dress deleted. I also know of spedfic 
the Wisconsin law 
permitting involuntary commitment has 
been invoked, and I hope that the 
A. A. A. I. M. H. will make this state's 
law a prime target- 
Wade Wellman 
Milwaukee, Wisconsin 


PARADISE LOST 

friend who is a staunch 
oid 
ous arguments, his remarks about 
the theory of evolution finally got to 
me and I explained to him some of 
the reasons for believing modern science 
instead of Genesis about the origin of 
man. To my dismay, he produced an 
article, "Time, Life and History in the 


Light of 15,000 Radiocarbon Dates,” 
which seems to prove fairly conclusively 
that the earth is much younger than 
science claims, perhaps young enough to 
fit the chronology of the Bible: in fact, 
that it is no more than 50,000 years old 
and probably less than that. The article 
is too technical for me to understand, so 
I enclose a copy. Could уоп enlighten 
me: Are there scientific errors in this 
article or, if not, why do scientists claim 
the carth is billions of years old? 

To avoid more religious squabbles in a 
rathe 1 town, please withhold my 
name and address if you publish thi 

(Name and address 
withheld by request) 

The essay your friend gave you is 
correct as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go 
very far. It is based on radiocarbon 
dating of prehistoric fossils, a method 
that is used only for relatively recent 
specimens, since it is known to be inef- 
fective for any object older than 30,000 
to 50,000 years. Thus, to try to prove the 
earth is only 50,000 years old with this 
method is like using a single yardstick 
and saying the earth is only three feet in 
circumference because one can’t measure 
farther with that particular tool. Another 
method, the solar-radiation technique, has 
shown that some relics on earth are 
1,000,000 years old; the uranium-stronti- 
um radioactivity method has placed vari- 
ous rocks at dales as far back as 34 
billion to 4.5 billion years (with a margin 
of error of 25 percent); and mathematical 
calculations working backward from the 
present rate of expansion of the universe 
indicate that the entire cosmos began 
approximately five billion years ago. The 
legend in "Genests"—Paradise, serpent, 
Adam, Eve and all—has the sublime 
poctic truth of the mightiest passages in 
Homer or Shakespeare, but to search in it 
for scientific truth is to seek oranges on а 
pear tree. 


STATE VASECTOMY LAWS 

І was under the impression that a 
man who wanted to be sterilized could 
legally obtain a vasectomy in any st 
However, Ann Landers published two 
letters claiming otherwise in her syndi 
cated column. One person wrote: 


This is to inform you that Section 
17-19 of the Connecticut General 
Statutes allows vasectomy only oi 
individuals “would produce 
children with an inherited tendency 
to crime, mental illness or mental 
deficiency 


who 


Another letter, from Texas, said that 
vasectomy "may cons 
tion, which is defined as depriving an 
organ of its function." Miss Landers 
witily responded that "some organs 
have more than one function." She did 
mot, however, contradict the assertions 
of either letter writer. Docs this nx 


itute legal mut 


that vasectomy is illegal in Connecticut 
and Texas? 
Richard Lund 
M polis, Minnesota 
The law cied by Miss Landers first 
correspondent applies 10 involuntary 
sterilization performed on institutional- 
ized persons. As for voluntary steriliza- 
tion, Connecticut law permits it only 
when a physician has declared it a medi- 
cal necessity. This limitation will end 
in October, when а new Connecticut 
penal code that does not make any stip- 
ulations about voluntary sterilization 
lakes effect, Utah also restricts volun- 
lary sterilization to cases in which a 
doctor has deemed it medically neces- 
sary. The constitutionality of this restric- 
tion ts currently being challenged in the 
courts, and a voluntary-sterilization. bill 
is being debated in the Utah house of 
representatives (see “Forum News{ront”), 
The Texas law cited in the other letter 
refers to any surgical procedure and has 
never been applied to a case of voluntary 
sterilization. So, although limitations атс 
imposed in Connecticut and Utah, vasec- 
tomy is legal in all states. 


ABORTION COUNSELING 

Just when I w my final term as 
а college senior, the girl I was dating 
found out that she was pregnant. Her 
first thought was that we should get 
married. However, I had no money, 
many debts and an insecure immediate 
future, and I wasn't deeply in love with 
her. J made such an unpromising pros- 
pect as а husband that she quickly 
changed her mind about marriage. Abor- 

ion was our next thought, but it is illegal 

Florida, as in many other states, and 
the doctors who will do the operation are 
frequently quacks and butchers, and they 
charge fees upward of $700. 

I found the phone number of an 
abortion referral service in New York 
ty in the September 1970 Playboy Fo- 
rum. I contacted them and they arranged 
for the operation to be performed 
quickly and salely in New York, at a 
total cost to me of $260, not including 
the plane fare. No one around here knew 
anything about it; with the help of jet 
паме], the whole procedi 
out in one day. It scares me to th 
what might have happened to us if abor 
tions weren't legal in New York and. 
organizations such as this one didn't exist. 

(Name withheld by request) 
Tallahassee, Floi 


ABORTION GUIDANCE 

A letter in the November 1970 
rum mentioned our pamphlet 
bortion: А Woman's Right,” 
which gives information concerning cli- 
gibility, cost, procedures and agencies 
New York State that offer counse 
ices, legal aid and redr 
ints for women with problem 
acies. Also available now is a 


pamphlet entitled “ ion: A Physi- 
cian’s Rights and Responsibilities," which 
is designed primarily for physicians and 
which discusses abortion methods, eligi- 
bility, fee guidelines, referral for counsel- 
ing and films and literature on abortion 
techniques. Unfortunately, the Novem- 
her letter did not mention that we must 
charge ten cents for each of our pam- 
phlets. We have filled several hundred 
requests from PLAYBOY readers not 
aware of this charge, but we hope that 
anyone else who writes to us will en- 
close ten cents to defray our expenses. 

Ruth Proskauer Smith, President 

Abortion Rights Assoc 

New York 
250 West 57th Street 
New York, New York 10019 


BOSTON DOES IT AGAIN 

In the Worcester, Massachusetts, Eve- 
ning Gazette, 1 read a recent “Wizard of 
Id" comic stip. The dialog went as 
follows: 


xxıcıt: Cinderella? . . . What are 
you doing out after midnight? 
CINDERELLA: I'm waiting for Lady 


Godiva. I loaned her my carriage 
and she hasn't returned. 
KNIGHT: Fear not! My men will 


find her in no time flat! Especially, 
when I tell them they are looking 
for а nude broad on a pumpli 


ter, in the Boston Herald Traveler, 
I noticed that “The Wizard of Id” had 
changed. "Ihe dialog read: 


= Cinderella? . . . What are 
ng out after midnight? 
CINDERELLA: I'm waiting for Lady 
Godiva. | loaned her my caniage 
and she hasn't returned. 

Fear по! My m 
in no time flat! Еуре 
ly, when I tell them what they are 
looking for. 


will 


Sort of loses in translation 


doesn’t it? 
Tucker 
Boston, M 


ichusetts 


COPULATION PSYCHOSIS. 

1 have never objected to PLaynoy, be 
cause, by and large, I have found that the 
magazine and The Playboy Philosophy 
are reasonable, But today, as I read all 
the letters, the news reports, the Mac 
West interview and the many jokes, 
advertisements, cartoons, stories and arti- 
cles in a recent issue, one strong thought 
exploded in my mind, grew and became 
terribly insistent. 

As I read of abortion and vasectomy, 
unwed mothers and homes for unwanted 
children, homosexuals, protestors and 
syphilis, 1 kept wondering, "Why, in the 
name of God and common sense, does 
not a magazine with the power of 
rLaynoy usc the word chastity су 
and again and explain, explore 
pound to the fullest the merits, v 


d, yea, even the plain, old-fashioned 


convenience of chaste living? Why does 
everybody seem to think they can go 


about the world fornicating rampantly 
without paying a heavy price, whether 
they be male or female, bond or free?” 
The human body doesn’t need sexual 
intercourse to be healthy and 
just isn’t that important and it should 
пог be. The act of physical sex unpro 
tected from illegitimate procreation does 
not spell love. It spells madness. 
Along with anti-pollution, please, can't. 
we preach chastity at least as loudly as 
we preach abortion? 


Mis. Glen Hatfield 
Kankakee, Illinois 
Chasie makes waste. 


PIECE OF WHAT? 
In Harper's magazine there's an item 
that РГАҮВОҮ readers might find memo- 
le. In a study of sex and politics by 
John Corry, а man whose wife had pre- 
viously been the mistress of а President 
of the United States asked how he 
felt about this. The man stated that he 
enjoyed it, and added, “It's like going 
to bed with a little piece of history.” 
William Paine 
Los Angeles, California 


HOME NUDITY VINDICATED 

On J, the lewdness trial of Seth E. 
Many and Carolyn R. Peck climaxed 
jury verdict of “not guilty.” (“A cow 
in the city known as the Cradle of 
Liberty has sentenced a psychiatrist and 
a woman lawyer to 30 days in jail for 
walking around nude in their own 
home. . . . The case is being appealed.” 
—Forum Newsfront, August 1970.) 

We were charged with “open and 
gross lewdness and lascivious behavior" 
ter we had sun-bathed naked in а solar- 
ium on the side of our house. Neighbors 
had been aroused by the sight and by 
the fact that their children were sceing 
what the parents struggled to hide. So the 
neighbors invited the vice squad to view 
us from the vantage point of nearby 


windows. An arrest ensued, with the 
invocation of the I87-yearold "gross 
lewdness" statute. 


We were fooled. We were told, 
will do better with a judge than with a 
jury. Judges are educated—enlightened. 
Bullshit! The administration of justice, 
from the police to the courts, is a gro- 
tesque parody of what it ought to be 
All the rules, all the thought, all the 
son that has gone into the law hav 
been supplanted by empty humans carry- 
ing cmpty forms. The jury acquitted us 
despite the judge's charge that the issu 
was the neighbors’ right not to see our 
kedness, their right to live free of the 
ight of people different from themselves. 

The system that administers justice is 
gangrened with subservience to special 
interests, rather than to the law or to 

(continued on page 182) 


73 


deversay а 


VUN А 
PANDE 


Um 


When you drive a car, 
you drive a reflection of 
yourself. And, in the case of 
the 1971 MGB, it's a reflec- 
tion of someone very spe- 
cial. Someone who knows 
cars as few do. 


Take the MGB's 1798 
с.с. twin-carb engine. You 
know it delivers enough 
powerto make iton thetrack. 
And yet it averages up to 25 
mpg. 

And, because the MGB 
has to meet the stringent de- 
mands of racing, its handling 
isimpeccable. You get afull- 
synchromesh 4-speed gear- 
box, rack-and-pinion 
steering, heavy-duty suspen- 
sion, and even radial-ply 
tires. Everything it takes to 


© British Leyland Motors Inc.. Leonia, New Jersey 07605. 


D| 


~ Itsays more about you- | 
bout yourself. ы 


EAR 


take the meanest bend, swift- 
est turn, or the worst country 
toad in stride. 


And, ofcourse, you know 
what it means to have 10.75- 
inch disc brakes infront and 
10-inch drums in back. It 
means you stop straight 
every time—no pulls, no 
swerves, no doubts. 

If you're impressed by 
substance, you'll be im- 
pressed by the 1971 MGB. 
The one that speaks for it- 
self—and for you. For the 
name of your nearest Austin- 
MG dealer and information 
about overseas delivery, dial 
(800) 631-4299 except in 
New Jersey where the num- 


ber is (800) 962-2803. 
Calls are toll-free. MD) 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: J OHN WAYN E 


a candid conversation with the straight-shooting superstar / superpatriot 


For more than 41 years, the barrel- 
chested physique and laconic derrin, 
of John Wayne have been prototypical 
of gung-ho virility, Hollywood style, In 
more Шап 200 films—from “The Big 
Trail” in 1930 to the soon-to-be-released 
“Million Dolly Kidnapping” —Wayne 
has charged the beaches at Ivo Jima, 
beaten back the Indians at Fort Apache 
and bloodied his fists in the name of 
frontier justice so often—and with nary 
а defeat—that he has come to occupy а 
unique niche in American folklore. The 
older generation still remembers him as 
Singing Sandy, one of the screen's first 
crooning cowpohes; the McLuhan gen- 
eration has grown up with him on “The 
Late Show.” With Cooper and Gable and 
Tracy gone, the last of the legendary stars 
survives and flourishes as never before. 

His milicu is still the action Western, 
in which Wayne's simplistic plotlines 
and easily discernible good and bad 
guys attest {о a romantic way of life 
long gone from the American scene—if 
indeed it really existed. Even 
his screen name—changed from Marion 
Michael Morrison—conveys the man’s 
plain, rugged cinematic personality 
tingly, he was the first of the Western 
movie heroes to poke a villain in the 
jaw. Wearing the symbolic while Stetson 
which never seemed to fall off, even 
їп the wildest combal—he made scores 
of threc-and-whalf-day formula ошету 
such as “Pals of the Saddle” in the Thir- 


сост 


lies before being tapped by director 


“I believe in white supremacy until the 
blacks ате educated to a point of respon- 
sibility. 1 don't believe in giving auw 
thority and positions of leadership and 
judgment to irresponsible people.” 


John Ford to star in “Stagecoach”—the 
1939 classic that paved the way for his 
subsequent success im such milestone 
Westerns as “Red River," the ultimate 
epic of the cattle drive, and “The Ala- 
mo,” a patriotic pacan financed by Wayne 
with $1,500,000 of his own money. 

By 1969, having made the list of Top 
Ten box-office attractions for 19 consecu- 
tive years, Wayne had grossed more than 
5700,000,000 for his studios—more than 
amy other star in motion-picture his- 
tory. Bul because of his uncompromis- 
ing squareness—and. his archconsercative 
politics—he was still largely a profit with- 
out honor in Hollywood. That oversight 
was belatedly rectified when his peers 
voted the tearful star a 1970 Oscar for 
his portrayal of Rooster Cogburn, the 
tobacco-chewing, hard-drinking, straight- 
shooting, patch-cyed marshal in “True 
Grit"—a possibly unwitting exercise in 
self-parody that good-naturedly spoofed 
dozens of his past characterizations. Presi- 
dent Nixon remarked several months 
later at а press conference that he and 
his family had recently enjoyed a screen- 
ing of “Chisum,” adding: "I think that 
John Wayne is a very fine actor.” 

Long active in Republican politics, 
Wayne has vigorously campaigned and 
helped табе funds for Nixon, Ronald 
Reagan, George Murphy, Barry Goldwa- 
ter and Los Angeles’ maverick Demo- 
cratic mayor Sam Yorty. Before the 1968 
campaign, a right-wing Texas billionaire 
had urged Wayne to serve as Vice- 


“The Oscar meant a lot to me—even if it 
took them 40 years to get around to il. 
But I really didn't need и. I'm a box-office 
champion with a record they're going to 
have to тип to catch. And they won't.” 


Presidential running mate to George 
Wallace, an overture he rejected. Not 
least among the Texan’s reasons for 
wanting to draft Wayne was the actors 
obdurately hawkish support of the Indo- 
china war—as glorified in his production 
of "The Green Berets,” which had the 
dubious distinction of being probably the 
only pro-war movie made in Hollywood 
during the Sixties 

Last fall, Wayne's first television special 
—a 90-minute quasi-historical pageant 
dripping with God-home-and-country hy- 
perbole—racked up such a hefty Niel- 
sen rating that it was rebroadcast in 
April. At ycur's end, Wayne was named 
one of the nation’s most admired enler- 
tainers im a Gallup Poll. Assigned by 
PLAYBOY shortly afterward 10 interview 
the superstar, Contributing Fditor Rich- 
ard Warren Lewis journeyed to Waynes 
sprawling (11-room, seven-bath) $175,000 
bayfront residence on the Gold Const of 
Newport Beach, California, where he lives 
with his third. Latin wife—Peruvian-born 
Pilar Pallete—and three of his seven 
children, Of his subject, Lewis writes: 
Wayne greeted me on a manicured 
lawn against a backdrop of sailboats, 
molor cruisers and yachts plying Ncw- 
port harbor. Wearing a realistic toupee, 
Wayne at first appeared considerably 
younger than he is; only the liver spots 
on both hands and the lines in his 
jut-jawed face 1014 of his 63 years. But 
al six feel, four and 244 pounds, it still 
almost seems as if he could have single- 


“Tomorrow is the most important thing 
in life. Comes in to us at midnight very 
clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it 
puts itself in our hands, It hopes we've 
learned something from yesterday.” 


75 


PLAYEOY 


76 


handedly mopped up all those bad guys 
from the Panhandle to Guadalcanal. His 
sky-blue eyes, though somewhat rheumy 
the pr 
reinforced the image. 

“Adjourning to the breakfast room, 
we spoke for several hours while Wayne 
enjoyed the first Dungeness crabs of the 
season, drank black coffee and fielded 
phone calls. One of the calls settled 
details of an imminent visit from the 
Congolese ambassador. (Wayne and sev- 
eral associates own lucrative mineral 
rights in the Congo.) Another call con- 
firmed a $100 bet on the Santa Anita 
Handicap, to be contested later that 
day. (Wayne lost.) 

"Christ, we better get going, he said 
shortly before one o'clock. ‘They're 
holding lunch for ик? He led the way 
past a den and trophy тоот stacked 
with such memorabilia as photos of his 
18 grandchildren. and the largest collec- 
lion of Hopi Indian katcina dolls west 
of Barry Goldwater. Oulside the house, 
past јасағапда and palm trees and а 
kidney-shaped swimming pool, we reached 
а sevenfoot-high concrete wall at the 
entryway and boarded Wayne's dark- 
Bonneville station wagon, а 
production model with only two modifi- 
cations—a sun roof raised six inches to 
accommodate the driver's ten-gallon hat, 
and two telephone channels al the con- 
sole beside him. 

“At Newport harbor, we boarded 
Wayne's awesome Wild Goose П, a con- 
verted U.S. Navy mine sweeper that saw 
service during the last six months of 
World War Two and has been refitted as 
a pleasure cruiser. After a quick iour of 
the 136-foot vessel—which included a 
look at the twin 500-horsepower en- 
gines, clattering leletype machines (A. P. 
UPL, Reuters, Tass) on the bridge 
disgorging wire dispatches, and the lav- 
ishly appointed bedroom and dressing 
suiles—we were seated at a polished- 
walnut table in the main saloon. 
теу a high-protein diet lunch of 
char-broiled steak, lettuce and cottage 
cheese, Wayne reminisced about the ear- 
ly days of Hollywood, when he was 
making two-rcelers for $500 cach. Later 
that afternoon, he produced a bottle of 
his favorite tequila. One of the eight 
crew members anointed our glasses with 
a dash of fresh lemon juice, coarse salt 
and heaping ice shards that, Wayne said, 
had been. chopped from а 1000-yeay-old 
glacier on a recent Wild Goose visit 
to Alaska, Sustained by these potent 
drinks, our conversation—sanging from 
Wayne's early days in film making to the 
current state of the industry—continued 
until dusk, and yesumed a week later in 
the offices of Wayne’s Batjac Productions, 
on the grounds of Paramount Pictures 


from vious night's late hours, 


green 


—one of the last of Hollywood's rapidly 
dwindling contingent of major studios 


PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the state 
of the motion-picture business today? 

WAYNE: I'm glad I won't be around 
much longer to see what they do with it. 
The men who control the big studios 
today are stock manipulators and bank 
ers They know nothing about our busi- 
ness. They're in il for the buck. The 
only thing they сап do is say, “Jeez, that 
picture with what'shername running 
around the park naked made money, 
so let's make another one. Н that’s 
what they want, lets give it to them.” 
Some of these guys remind me of high 
class whores. Look at 20th Century Fos, 
where they're making movies like Myra 
Breckinridge. Why doesn't that son of a 
bitch Darryl Zanuck get himself a striped 
ilk shirt and learn how to play the 
piano? Then he could work in any 
тоот in the house, As much as 1 


couldn't stand some of the old-time mo- 


1 inte 


est 


took 
business. They had integrity. There was 
a stretch when they realized that they'd 
made a hero out of the goddamn gang 
ster heavy in crime movies, that they 
were doi discredit to our country. 
So the moguls voluntarily took it upon 
themselves to stop making gangster pic- 
tures. No censorship from the outside. 
They were responsible to the public 
But today's executives don't give a 
damn. In their efforts to grab the box 
office that these sex pictures are attract 
ing, they're producing garbage. They're 
ing advantage of the [act that no- 
body wants to be called a bluenose. But 
they're going to reach the point where 
the American people will ы he hell 
with this! And once they do, we'll 
have censorship in every state, in every 
city, and ее be no way vou сап 
make even à worthwhile picture for 
adults and have it acceptable for nation- 
al release. 

PLAYBOY: Won't the present rating sys- 
tem prevent that from happenin; 
WAYNE: No. Every time they rate а pic 
ture, they let a little more go. Ratings 
are ridiculous 10 begin with. There was 
по need for rated pictures when the 
major studios were in control. Movie 
were once made for the whole family. 
Now, with the kind of junk the studios 
aking ont—and the jacked-up 
prices they're charging for the privilege 
of seeing it—the average family is stay- 
ing home ag telev Im 


ars, 
Americans will be completely fed up 
with these perverted films. 

PLAYBOY: What kind of films do you 
consider perverted? 

WAYNE: Oh, Easy Rider, Midnight Cow- 
boy—that kind of thing. Wouldn't you 
say that the wonderful love of those ско 


men in Midnight Cowboy, a story about 
two fags, qualifies? But don't get me 
wrong. As far as а man and a woman i 
concerned, I'm awfully happy there's a 
thing called sex. It's an extra something 
God gave us. I see no reason why it 
shouldn't be in pictures. Healthy, lusty 
sex is wonderful. 

PLAYBOY: How graphically do you think 
it should be depicted on the screen? 
WAYNE When you get hairy, sweaty 
bodies in the foreground, it becomes 
distasteful, unless you use а pretty h 


ivy 
gauze. I can remember seeing pictures 
t nst Lubitsch made in the Thir- 
ties that were beautifully risqué—and 
you'd certainly send vour children 10 see 
them. They were done with intimation. 
They got over everything these other 
pictures do without showing the lı 
and the sweat, When you think of the 
wonderful picture fare we've had throu: 
the years and realize we've come to t 
shit, it's disgusting. И they want to con- 
tinue making those pictures, fine, But my 
career will have ended. I've already 
reached a pretty good height right now 
in a business that I feel is going 10 fide 
out from its own vulgarity 
PLAYBOY: Don't gory films like Th, 
Bunch also contribute to that vulgarity? 
WAYNE: Certainly. To me, The Wild 
Bunch was distasteful. hi would have 
been a good picture without the gore 
Pictures go too far when they use that 
kind of realism, when they hive shots of 
blood spurting ош and teeth flying, and 
when they throw 10 m 
look like people's The 


is 


Wild 


er out 
insides. 


Wild 
Bunch was one of the first to go that [ar 


n realism. and the curious went 10 se 
it. That may make the bankers and the 
stock. promoters think this is а necessar 
ingredient for successful motion pic 


nues. They sem to forget the one 
basic principle of our business —illusion 
We're in the business of magic. 1 don't 


think it hurts a child to sce any 
that has the illusion of violence in it. 
МІ our fairy tales have some kind of 
violence—the good knight riding to kill 
the dragon, etc. Why do we have to show 
the knight spreading the serpent's 
all over the candy mountain? 
PLAYBOY: Proponents of screen realism 
say that a public inured to bloody war 
news footage on television isn’t going 1 
accept the mere illusion of violence. in 
movies. 

WAYNE: Perhaps we have run out of 
imagination on how to effect illusion 
because of the sariating realism of a real 
war on television. But haven't we gor 
enough of that in real life? Why can't 
same point be made just as effective 
ly in a drama without all the gore? The 
violence in my pictures, lor example, is 
lusty and а litle bit humorous. because 
1 believe humor nullifies violence. Like 
in one picture, directed by Henry 
away, this heavy was sticking a guy's 


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PLAYBOY 


78 


in a barrel of water. I'm watching 

Burle this and I don't like it one bit, so I pick 
пап up this pick handle and I yell, “ 

H 5 and cock him across the head. Down he 

for the Captain’s locker RET 


that got a hell of a laugh because of the 


way I did it. That’s my kind of violence. 
Г PLAYBOY: Audiences may like your kind 
á of violence on the screen, but they'd 
/ 71 - never heard profanity їп а John Wayne 
ЛД. movie until True Grit. Why did you 
finally decide to use such earthy lan- 
guage in a film? 
WAYNE: In my other pictures, we've had 
an explosion or something go off when a 
bad word was said. This time we didn't. 
I's profanity, all right, but I doubt if 
there's anybody іп the United States 
who hasn't heard the expression son of a 
bitch or bastard. We felt it was accept: 
ble in this instance. At the emotioi 
high point in that particular picture, 1 
felt it was OK to use it. It would have 
been pretty hard to say “you illegitimate 
Commanding, brisk, sons of so-and-so!" 
rugged —a cargo from PLAYBOY: In the past, you've often said 
the teakwood forests that if the critics liked one of your 
of the South Seas. films, vou must be doing something 
One of a kind— wrong. But Truc Grit was almost unani- 
Cologne, After Shave mously praised by the critics. Were you 
and Gift Sets. doing something wrong? Or were they 
From the men at right for a change? 
(OH d р WAYNE: Well. Т knew that True Grit was 
Mee going to go—even with the critics. Once 
in a while, you come onto a story that 
has such great humor, The author 
caught the flavor of Mark Twain, to my 
way of thinking. 
PLAYBOY: The reviewers thought you set 
out to poke [un at your own image in 
True Grit. 
WAYNE: It wasn't really a parody. Rooster 
Cogburn's attitude tow: 
be a little different, but he was basically 
the same character I've always played. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think True Grit is the 
best film you've ever made? 
WAYNE: No. I don't. Two classic West- 
erns were better—Stagecoach and Red 
River—and а third, The Searchers, 
which I thought deserved more praise 
nd The Quiet Man was 
nly one of the best. Also the one 
1 the college cinematography stu- 
dents run all the time—The Long Voy- 
age Home. 
PLAYBOY: Which was the worst? 
WAYNE: Well, there's about 50 of them 
that are tied. 1 can't even remember the 
names of some of the leading ladies in 
those first ones, let alone the names of 
the pictures. 
PLAYBOY: At what point in your career 
were you nicknamed Duke? 
WAYNE: That goes back to my childhood. 
І was called Duke after а dog—a very 


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d life was may- 


than it got, 


A TEAS еен ии credit on one of the early pictures and 
called me Michael Burm. On another 


How an Accutrori watch 
movement helps give 


American Airlines Astrojets 
an in-flight physical. 


A plane lives in the air. 

So, logically, that’s the best place to 
find out exactly how it’s functioning. 

And to do just that, a system called 
Astrolog was developed. 

It's a highly sensitive electronic 
unit that travels aboard American 
Airlines Astrojet 400’s (and soon 
aboard 747 Astroliners). 

Every single second of the flight, 


Astrolog gathers detailed information 
about the engine, instruments, and 
flight performance. Then it transfers 
that information to magnetic tape, 
which is later fed into a computer. 

But none of Astrolog’s information 
would make any sense without a time 
base. 

You couldn't tell how an engine was 
behaving at the exact second of take- 


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PLAYBOY 


80 


опе, they called me Duke Morrison. Then 
they decided Duke Morrison t have 
enough prestige. My real name, Marion 
Michael Morrison, didn't sound Ameri- 
can enough for them. So they came up 
with John Wayne. I didn't have any say 
in it, but I think it's a great name. It’s 
short and strong and to the point. It took 
me a long time to get used to it, though. 
I still don't recognize it when somebody 
calls me John. 

PLAYBOY: After giving you a new name, 
did the studio decide on amy particular 
screen image for you? 

WAYNE: They made me a singing cowboy. 
The fact that I couldn't sing—or play the 
guitar—became terribly embarrassing to 
me, especially on personal appear 
Every time I made a public appe 
the kids insisted that I sing The Desert 
ong or something. But I couldn't take 
along the fella who played the guitar out 
on onc side of the camera and the fella. 
who sang on the other side of the camer 
So finally I went to the head of the studio 
and said, “Serew thi "t handle it.” 
Aud I quit doing those kind of рїш 
They went out and brought the best 
hillbilly recording artist in the country 
to Hollywood to take my place. For the 
first couple of pictures, they had a hard 


s. 


time selling him, bur he finally caught 
on. His name was Gene Autry. It was 
1030 before 1 made Stazecoach—the 


picture that really made me а маг. 
PLAYBOY: Like Stagecoach, most of the 
304 pictures you've made—including 
your latest, Rio Lobo—have been W 
erns, Don't the plots all start to seem 
the same? 

WAYNE: Rio Lobo certainly wasn’ 
different from most of my Wester 
was Chisum. the one before that 
there still seems to be a very hearty 
public appetite for this kind of бт 
what some writers call a typical Joh 
Wayne Wester label they use 
disparagingly. 

PLAYBOY: Does that bother you? 

WAYNE: Nope. If 1 depended on the 
critic judgment and recognition, I'd 
never have gone into the motion-picture 
business. 

PLAYBOY: Did last year's Academy Award 
for True Grit mean a lot to you? 

WAYNE: Sure it did—even if it took the 
indusuy 40 years to get around to 
But I think both of my two previous 
Oscar nominations—lor She Wore a Yel- 
low Ribbon and Sands of Iwo Jima— 
worthy of the honor. 1 know the 
1 the American Armed 
ces were quite proud of my portrayal 
ne sergeant in Two 
n Legion convention in 
Florida, General MacArthur told me, 
You represent the American Service- 
man better than the American Service- 
man himself." And, at 42, in She Wore a 


ies and 


Yellow Ribbon, 1 played the same char- 
acter that I played in True Grit at 62. 
But I really didn't need an Oscar. I'm a 
box-office champion with а record they're 
going to have to run to catch. And they 
won't. 

PLAYBOY: A number of critics claim that 
your record rests on your appeal to 
adolescents. Do you think that's true? 
WAYNE: Let's say I hope that І appeal to 
the more carefree times in а person's life 
her than to his reasoning adulthood 
I'd just like to be an image that reminds 
someone of joy rather than of the prob- 
lems of the world. 

PLAYBOY: Do you think young people 
still feel strongly about you? 

WAYNE: Luckily, so far, it seems they 
kind of consider me an older friend. 
somebody believable and down-to-carth, 
I've avoided being mean or petty, but 
I've never avoided being rough or 
tough. Гус only played one cautious 
part in my life, in Allegheny Uprising 
My parts have ranged from that rather 
dull character to Ralls in Wake of the 
Red Witch, who е спо! 
fella sober, but bestial when he 
drunk, and certainly а rebel I was 
also a rebel in Reap the Wild Wind 
with De Mille. I've played many parts 


was a 


society, 1 was never much of a joiner. 
Kids do join things, but they also 
consider. themselves s cap 
of thinking for themselves. So do I. 
PLAYBOY: But isn't your kind of screen 
rebellion very different from that of 
today’s young people? 

Sure. Mine is a personal rebel- 
nst the monotony of life, against 
the status quo. The rebellion in these 
kids—especially in the SDSers 
groups—seems to be a kind of dissension 
by rote. 

PLAYBOY: Meaning what? 

WAYNE: Just this: The articulate liberal 
group has caused certain things in our 
county, and I wonder how long the 
young people who read PLAYBOY are 
going to allow these things to go on 
George Putnam, the Los Angeles news 
analyst, put it quite succinctly when he 
said, “What kind of a nation is it that 
fails to under freedom of 
speech and assembly are one thing. and 
anarchy and treason are quite anoth 
that allows known Communists to serve 
as teachers to pervert the natural loyal 
ties and ideals of our kids, filling them 
with fear and doubt and hate and dow 
grading patriotism and all our heroes of 
the past?” 

PLAYBOY: You blame all this on liberals? 
WAYNE: Well, the libe 
g to have Communists teach 
kids in school. The Communists 
that they couldn't start a 


nd thosc 


ls seem to be 


the 
realized 
workers’ revolution in the United States, 
since the workers were too affluent and 


too progressive. So the Commies decided 
on the nextbest thing, and that’s to 
start on the schools, start on the kids. 
And they've managed to do it. They're 
already in colleges; now they're getting 
into high schools. I wouldn't mind if 
they taught my children the basic philos- 
ophy of communism, in theory and how 
it works in actuality. But I don't want 
somebody like Angela Davis inculcating 
an enemy doctrine in my kids! minds, 
PLAYBOY. Angela Davis claims that those 
who would revoke her teaching creden 
tials on ideological grounds are actually 
discriminating against her because she’ 
black. Do you think there's any truth in 
that? 

WAYNE: With a lot of blacks, there's 
quite a bit of resentment along with 
their disse nd possibly rightfully so. 
Bue we can't all of a sudden get down 
on our knees and turn everything over 
to the leadership of the blacks. 1 believe 
in white supremacy until the blacks are 
educated to а point of responsibility. I 
don't believe in giving authority and 
positions of leadership and judgment to 
irresponsible people. 

PLAYBOY: Arc you cquipped to judge 
which blacks are irresponsible and whi 
of their leaders inexperienced? 

- It's not my judgment. The aca- 
demic community has developed certain 
tests that determine whether the blacks 
ly equipped scholastically. 
But some blacks have tried то force the 
issue and enter college when they haven't 
passed the tests and don't have the requi 
site background. 

PLAYBOY: How do they get that back- 
ground? 

WAYNE: By going to school. I don't know 
why people insist that blacks have been 
forbidden their right to go to school. 
They were allowed in public schools 
wherever I've been. Even if they don't 
have the proper credentials for college, 
there are courses to help them become 


eligible. But if they aren't academically 
ready for thar мер, 1 don't think they 
should be allowed in. Otherwise, the 


academic society is brought down to the 
lowest common denominator. 
PLAYBOY: But isn't it wue that 
never likely to rectify the inequities in 
educational system u 
of remedial education is given to di 
vantaged minority groups? 

WAYNE: What good would it do to regis- 
ter anybody in a class of higher algebra 
or calculus if they haven't learned to 
count? There has to be standard. I 
don't feel guilty about the fact that five 
or ten generations ago these people were 
slaves. Now, I'm not condoning y 
І just a fact of life, like the kid who 
gets infantile paralysis and has to wear 
braces so he can't play football wi 
the rest of us, I will say this, though: I 
any black who can compete with a 
te today can get a better break than 


we're 


1 some sort 


ош 


Taste it like itreally is, and you'll find 
Bacardi dark rum hes an underplayed flovor. 
One that’s light and dry, not sweet. And aging 
makes itsmooth ond mellow. So yov con drink 
it the same way some people drink whiskey. 
Easily. And maybe, justmoybe, that’s what 
makes Bacardi on-the-rocks the on-the-rocks 
drinkfor you. Try it naw. While it's an your mind. 


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2 
= 
= 
E 
E 


PLAYBOY 


82 


a white man, I wish theyd tell me 
where in the world they have it bener 
than right here in America. 

PLAYBOY. Many militant blacks would 
argue that they have it better almost 
anywhere else. Even in Hollywood, they 
feel that the color barrier is still up 
for many kinds of jobs. Do you limit 
the number of blacks you usé in your 
pictures? 

WAYNE: Oh, Christ no. Гус directed two 
pictures and I gave the blacks their 
proper position. I had a black slave in 
The Alamo, and I had a correct number 
of blacks in The Green Berets. |f it’s 
supposed to be a black character, natu- 
rally I use a black actor. But I don't go 
so far as hunting for po 
I think the Hollywood studios 
ing their tokcnism a little too f 
no doubt that ten percent of the popula- 
tion is black, or colored, or whatever they 
want to call themselves; they certainly 
aren't Caucasian. Anyway, I suppose there 
should be the same percentage of the 
colored race films as in society. But 
it can't always be that way. There isn’t 
necessarily going to be ten percent of 
the grips or sound men who are black, 
because more than likely, tem percent 
haven't trained themselves for that type 
of work. 

PLAYBOY: Can blacks be integrated. into 
the film industry if they are denied 
training and education? 

WAYNE: It’s just as hard for a white man 
to get a card in the Hollywood craft 
unions. 

PLAYBOY: Thats hardly the point, but 
let's change the subject. For years Amer- 
ican Indians have played an important 
subordinate—role in your Westerns. 
Do you feel any empathy with them? 
WAYNE: I don't feel we did wrong 
taking this great country away from 
them, if that’s what you're asking. Our 
so-called stealing of this country from 
them was just a matter of survival. 
There were great numbers of people 
who needed new land, and the Indi- 
апу were selfishly uying to keep it for 
themselves. 

PLAYBOY: Weren't the Indians. by virtue 
of prior possession—the rightful owners 
of the Jand? 

WAYNE: Look, I'm sure there have been 
inequalities. If those inequalities are 
presently affecting any of the Indians 
now alive, they have a right to a court 
hearing. But what happened 100 years 


go in our country can't be blamed on 
us today. 

PLAYBOY: Indians today are still being 
dehumanized on reservations. 


WAYNE: I'm quite sure that the concept 
of a Government-run reservation would 
have an ill effect on anyone, But that 
scems to be what the socialists are work- 
ing for now—to have everyone caved for 
from cradle to grave. 

PLAYBOY; Indians on 


reservations аге 


more neglected than cared for. Even 
you accept the principle of expropr 
tion, don't you think a more humane 
solution to the Indian problem could 
have been devised? 

WAYNE: This may come as a surprise to. 
you, but I wasn't alive when reservations. 
were created—even if I do look that old. 
I have no idea what the best method of 
dealing with the Indians in the 1800s 
would have been. Our forefathers evi- 
dently thought they were doing the right 
thing. 

PLAYBOY: Do you think the In en- 
camped on Alcatraz have a right to that. 
land? 

WAYNE: Well, I don't know of anybody 
else who wants it. The fellas who were 
taken off it sure don't want to go back 
there, including the guards So as far 
as I'm concerned, I think we ought to 
make a deal with the Indians. They 
should pay as much for Alcatraz as 
we paid them for Manhattan, I hope 
they haven't been careless with their 
wampum. 

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the 
Government grant. for a university and 
cultural center that these Indians have 
nded as rations’? 

What happened between their 
forefathers and our forefathers is so far 
back—right, wrong or indifferent—that 
I don't see why we owe them anything. I 
don't know why the Government should 
give them something that it wouldn't 
give me. 

PLAYBOY: Do you think they've had the 
same advantages and opportunities that 
you've had? 

WAYNE: I’m not gonna give you one of 
those Lwassa-poor-boy-and-L pulled-myself- 
up-by-my-bootstraps stories, but I've gone 
without a meal or two in my life, and 
I still don't expect the Government to 
turn over any of its territory to me. Hard 
times aren't something I can blame my 
fellow citizens for. Years ago, I didn't 
have all the opportuni cither. But 
you cant whine and bellyache ‘cause 
somebody else got a good break and you 
didn't, like these Indians are. We'll all 
be on a reservation soon if the socialists 
keep subsidizing groups like them with 
our tax money. 

PLAYBOY: In your distaste for socialism, 
aren't you overlooking the fact that 
many worthwhile and necessary Govern- 
ment services—such as Social Security 
and Medicare—derived from essentially 
programs evolved. during the 


Th 
wayne: I know all about that In the 
late Twenties, when 1 was a sophomore 
at USC, I was a socialist myself—but 
not when I left. The average college kid 
idealistically wishes everybody could have 
ice cream and cake for every meal. But 
as he gets older and gives more thought 
to his and his fellow man's responsibili- 
ties, he finds that it can't work out that 


way—that some people just won't carry 
their load, 

PLAYBOY: What about welfare recipients? 
WAYNE: I believe in welfare—a welfare 
work program. I don't think a fella 
should be able to sit on his backside and 
receive welfare. Га like to know why 
well-educated idiots keep apologizing for 
lazy and complaining people who think 
the world owes them a living. I'd like to 
know why they make excuses for cow- 
ards who spit in the faces of the police 
and then run behind the judicial sob 
sisters, I can't understand these people 
who carry placards to save the life of 
some criminal, yet have no thought for 
the innocent v 
PLAYBOY: Who are 
ng about? 
Entertainers like Steve Allen 
and his cronies who went up to North- 
ern California and held placards to save 
the life of that guy Caryl Chessman, 
don't understand these things. 1 
can’t understand why our national leader- 
ship isn't willing to take the responsibility 
of leadership instead of checking polls 
and listening to the few that scream. Why 
are we allowing ourselves to become 
a mobocracy instead of a democracy? 
When you allow unlawful acts to go 
unpunished, you're moving toward a 
government of men rather than a gov- 
ernment of law; уо! i ard 
chy. And that's exactly what we're 
doing. We allow dirty loudmouths to 
publicly call policen we let a 
fella. e William 
speech to the Black Panthers saying that 
the ghetto is theirs, and that if police 
come into it, they have a right to shoot 
them. Why is that dirty, no-good son of 
a bitch allowed to practice law? 

PLAYEOY: Whats your source for that 
statement you attribute to Kunstler? 
WAYNE: It appeared in a Christian Anti- 
Communism Crusade letter written by 
ed Schwarz on August 1, 1969. Here, 
I'll read it to you: 
w attorney, Bill Kunstler, spoke on 
political prisoners and pol 
at the National Conference for a United 
Front Against Fascism, which was held 
in Oakland, California, July 18, 19 and 
20, 1969. He urged blacks to kill white 
policemen when they entered the black 
ghetto. He told the story of how a white 
policeman, John Gleason, was stomped 
to death in Plainfield, New Jersey. The 
crowd broke into prolonged applause. 
Kunstler proceeded to state that, his 
opinion, Gleason deserved that death. 
... Kunstler pointed out that no white 
policeman has set foot in the black 
ghetto of Plainfield, New Jersey, since 
July 1967." That could turn out to be 
а terrible thing he said. Pretty soon 
there'll be a bunch of whites who'll say, 
“Well, if that's their land, then this is 


these people” you're 


al freedom. 


` When mm going WU hard, г т 
the whiskey should be E E 


Calvert Extra. [i 
The Soft Whiskey. 


PLAYBOY 


84 


ours. They'd better not trespass on it.” 
It can work two ways. 

PLAYBOY: What's your opinion of the 
stated goals of the Black Panthers? 
WAYNE: Quite obviously, they represent 
a danger to society. They're a violent 
group of young men and women—ad- 
venturous, opinionated and dedicated 
and they throw their disdain in our face. 
Now, I hear some of these liberals say- 
ing they'd like to be held as white hos- 
tages in the Black Panther offices and 
stay there so that they could see what 
happens on these early-morning police 
raids, It might be a better idea for these 
good citizens to go with the police on a 
they search a Panther hide- 
out for firearms, let these do-gooders 
knock and say, "Open the door in the 
name of the law" and get shot at. 
PLAYBOY: Why do you think many young 
people—black and white—support the 
Panthers? 

WAYNE: They're standing up for what 
they feel is right, not for what they 
think is right—cause they don't think. 
As a kid, the Panther ideas probably 
would have intrigued me. When 1 was a 
ittle kid, you could be adventurous like 
that without hurting anybody. There 
were periods when you could blow the 
valve and let off some steam. Like Hal- 
lowcen. You'd talk about it for three 
months ahcad of time, and then that 
night you'd go out and stick the hose in. 
rhe lawn, turn it on and start singing 
Old Black. Joe or something. And when 
people came out from their Halloween 
party, you'd lift the hose and wet them 
down, And while you were running, the 
other kids would be stealing the i 
cream from the party. All kinds of rebel- 
licus actions like 1 were accepted for 
that one day. Then you could talk about. 
it for thrce months afterward. "That took. 
care of about six months of the year. 


There was another day called the 
Fourth of July, when you could ро out 
and shoot firecrackers and burn down 


two or three buildings. So there were 
two days a year. Now those days are 
gone. You can't have firecrackers, you 
can't have explosives, you can't have this 
—don’t do this, don't do that. Don't 
++. dort. . . don't, A continual don’t 
until the kids are ready to do almost 
anything rebellious. The Government 
makes the rules, so now the running of 
our Government is the thing they're 
rebelling against. For a lot of those kids, 
thats just being adventurous. They're 
not deliberately seing out to undermine 
the foundations of our grcat country. 
PLAYBOY: Is that what you think they're 
doing? 

WAYNE: They're doing their level worst 
—without knowing it. How ‘bout all the 
kids that were at the Chicago Democrat- 
ic Convention? They were conned into 
doing hysterical things by a bunch of 
activists. 

PLAYBOY: What sort of activists? 


WAYNE: A lot of Communist-activated 
people. I know communism's a horrible 
word to some people. They hugh and 
say, "Hell be finding them under his 
bed tomorow.” But perhaps that's be- 
cause their kid hasn't been inculcated 
yet. Dr. Herbert Marcuse, the political 
philosopher at the University of Califor- 
nia at San Diego, who is quite obviously 
а Marxist, put it very succinctly when he 
said, “We will use the anarchists.’ 
PLAYBOY: Why clo you think leftist ideo- 
logues such as Marcuse have become 
heroes on so many of the nation's cam- 
puses? 

WAYNE: Marcuse has become a hero only 
for an articulate clique. The men that 
give me faith in my country are fellas 
like Spiro Agnew, not the Marcuses. 
They've attempted in every way to hu- 
miliate Agnew. They've tried the old 
Rooseveltian thing of trying to laugh 
him out of political value to his party. 
Every comedian's taken a crack at him. 
But I bet if you took a poll today, he'd 
probably be one of the most popular 
men in the United States. Nobody likes 
Spiro Agnew but the people. Yet he and 
other responsible Government leaders 
are booed and pelted when they speak 
on college campuses, 

PLAYBOY: Beyond the anti-Administration 
demonstrations on campuses, do you 
think there's any justification for such 
tactics as student occupation of college 
administrative offices? 

WAYNE: One or two percent of the kids 
is involved in things like that. But they 
get away with it because ten percent of 
the teaching comm behind them, 
І see on ТУ how, when the police are 
tying to keep the kids in line, like up 
at the University of California at Berke- 
ley, all of a sudden there's a bunch of 
martyr-professors trying to egg the po- 
lice into violent action. 

PLAYBOY: If you were faced with such a 
confrontation, how would you handle it? 
WAYNE: Well, when I went to USC, if 
anybody had gone into the president's 
office and sh his wastepape ket 
and used the dirt to write vulgar words 
on the wall, not only the football team 
but the average kid on campus would 
have gone to work on the guy. There 
doesn’t seem to be respect for authority 
anymore; these student dissenters 
like children who have to have their 
own way on everything. They're imma- 
ture and living in a little world all their 
own. Just like hippie dropouts, they're 
afraid to face the real competitive world. 
PLAYBOY: What makes you, at the age of 
63, feel qualified to comment on the 
fears and motivations of the younger 
generation? 

WAYNE: I've experienced а lot of the 
same things that kids today are going 
through, and I think many of them 
admire me becuse I haven't been afraid 
to say that I drink a little whiskey, thar 


Гус done а lot of things wrong 
life, that I'm as imperfect as they all are. 
Christ, I don't daim to have the answers, 
but I feel compelled to bring up the fact 
that under the guise of doing good, these 
kids are causing a hell of a lot of irrepa- 
rable damage, and they're starting some- 
thing they're not gonna be able to finish. 
Every bit of rampant anarchy has pro- 
voked a little more from somebody else. 
And when they start shooting policemen, 
the time has come to start knocking them 
off, as far as I'm concerned. 

PLAYBOY: What do you mean by “knock- 
ing them off”? 

WAYNE: I'd throw ’em in the can if I 
could. But if they try to kill you, I'd 
sure as hell shoot back. I think we 
should break up those organizations or 
make ‘em illegal. The American public 
is getting sick and tired of what these 
young people are doing. But it’s really 
partly the public's own fault for allow- 
ing the permissiveness that’s been going 
on for the past 15 or 20 years. By permis- 
siveness, I mean simply following Dr 
Spock's system of raising children. But 
that kind of permissiveness isn’t unique 
to young people. Our entire society has 
promoted an “anything goes" attitude in 
every area of life and in every American 
institution, Look at the completely ir- 
responsible editorship of our country’s 
newspapers. By looking for provocative 
things to put on their front pages, 
they're encouraging these kids to act the 
way they're acting. Т wonder even more 
about the responsibility of the press 
when I read about events like the so- 
called My Lai massacre in Vietnam. The 
press and the communications system 
Jumped way ahead of the trials. At the 
ne, they made accusations that I 
doubted they could back up; frankly, I 
hoped they couldn't. Well. it turns our 
there may have been something to it. 
But I could show you pictures of what 
the North Vietnamese and the Viet 
Cong are doing to our people over 
there, I was at a place called Dak Song, 
where the children were all burned to 
death by the У.С, and that's not an 
unusual thing. But for some reason, our 
newspapers have never printed pictures 
or stories about it. With all the terrible 
things that are being done throughout 
the world, it has to be one little inci- 
dent in the United States Army—and 
the use of the word massacre—that causes 
the uproar, 

PLAYBOY: Don't you deplore what hap- 
pened at My Lai? 
wayne: Not only do I deplore it, but so 
does the Army—which conducted an ex- 
tensive investigation and charged every- 
one connected with the alleged crime. 
PLAYBOY: Docs the fact that the Viet 
Cong have systematically engaged їп 
atrocities excuse our forces for resorting 
to the same thing? 

WAYNE: No, absolutely not. But if your 


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PLAYBOY 


86 


men go to a supposedly peaceful village 
and the occupants start shooting at them, 
they're going to have to shoot back to 
defend their own lives. 

PLAYBOY: The reports say our GIs slaugh- 
tered unarined civilians and babies at My 
Lai; no one was shooting at them. 
WAYNE: If, after going into the town, 
they brutally killed these people, that's 
onc thing. If they were getting shot at 
from that town and then they fired 
back, that’s a completely different situa 
ion. Bur you're bringing up the stuff 
ng debated in the trials. What 
I resent is that even before the trials, 
this stuff was even less of a proven fact, 
yet the newspapers printed it anyway. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think there's a credibil- 
йу gap between the way the war has 
been reported and the way it’s actually 
being fought—on both sides? 

WAYNE: It's obvious to me, because I've 
been there. And you'll find that the 
young veterans who come back from 
Vietnam have а lot to say that the 
media haven't told us—even about our 
aliies, These young men know what 
they're talking about, because they own 
a piece of that w d you should ask 
the man who owns on 
PLAYBOY: Many of those young men who 
"own a piece of that war" wanted 
10 go to Vietnam in the first place. Do 
you think our Government is justified 
in sending them off to fight in an un- 
declared. war? 

WAYNE: Well, 1 sure don't know why we 
send them over to fight and then stop 
the bombing so they get shot that 
much more. We could easily stop the 
enemy from getting guns and 
tion that we know are being sent by 
Chinese and Soviet Communists. But we 
won't do anything to stop it because 
we're afraid of world opinion. Why in 
hell should we worry about world opi 
ion when we're trying to help out a 
country that’s asked for our aid? Of 
course, Senator Fulbright says the South 
Vieuamese government doesn't repre- 
the people—even though it’s been 
duly elected by those реор'е. How can а 
man be so swayed to the opposite side? 
If he were finding fault with the admin- 
istration of our help over there, that 1 
could understand. What I can't under- 
stand is this "pull out, pull out, pull 
out" attitude he's taken. And what 
makes it worse is that a lot of people 
accept anything he says without think- 
ing, simply because the Fu bright schol 
arships have establ intellectual 
1 around him. 

PLAYBOY: The majority of the American 
people, according to every poll, agree 
with Fulbright that we ought to pull 
out, and many think we never should 
have intervened in the first place. Many 
Southeast Asian experts, induding Ful- 
bright, believe that if Ho CI 


never 


hed an 


been allowed to run Vietnam as he saw 
fit after the Geneva Accords of 1954, he 
would have established an accommoda- 
tion with Peking that would have given 
us perhaps a nominally Communist 
tion, but essentially а n i 
pendent government. 
WAYNE: How? By what e 
tory can people. 
such wishful th 
PLAYBOY: The example of Tito’s Yugo: 
via comes immediately to mind. In any 
case, what gives us the right to decide 
for the Vietnamese what kind of govern- 
ment they should have? 
wayne: І don't want the U.S. to decide 
what kind of government they have. But 
1 don't want the Communists to decide, 
either. And if we didn't help thc South 
Vietnamese government, that's just what 
they'd do. 
PLAYBOY: Why couldn't a general elec- 
tion, supervised by some neunal power, 
be held in both the North and the 
South to determine what kind of govern- 
ment the people of Vietnam desire 
wayne: "That would be no more practi- 
cal than if France, after coming to help 
us in the Revolution, suggested having 
an election to decide what we wanted to 
do. It would be an exact parallel. The 
majority of those living in ihe Colonies 
didn’t want war at that time. If there 
ad been a general election then, we 
bly wouldn't be here today. As far 
as Vietnam is concemed, we've made 
akes I know of no country that's 
perfect. But I honestly believe that 
there's as much need for us to help the 
Vietnamese as there was to help the 
Jews in Germany. The only difference is 
that we haven't had any leadership in 
this war. All the liberal Senators have 
stuck their noses in this, and it's out of 
their bailiwick. They've already put far 
тоо many barriers in the way of the 
mili Our lack of leadership has gone 
so far that now no one man сап come 
in, face the issue and tell people that we 
ought to be in an all-out war. 
PLAYBOY: Why do you favor an all-out 
war? 
WAYNE: I figure if we're going to send 
even one man to die, we ought to be 
an all-out conflict. If you fight. you fight 
to win. And the domino theory is some- 
thing to be reckoned with, too, both 
in Europe and in Asia. Look at what 
happened in Czechoslovakia and what's 
happened all through the Balkans. At 
some point we have to stop communism. 
So wc might as wcll stop it right now in 
m 
PLAYBOY. You're aware, of course, that 
most military experts, including two re- 
cent Secretaries of State, concede that it 
would be an unwinnable war except at 
а cost too incalculable to contemplate. 
wayne: I think you're making a mis- 
statement. Their fear is that Russia 
would go to war with us if we stopped 


de- 


ample in his- 
ike Fulbright come to 


the Vietnamese. Well, I don't think Rus- 
sia wants war any more than we do. 
PLAYBOY: Three Presidents seem to have 
agreed that it would be unwise to 
ble millions of lives on that assumption. 
Since you find their leadership lacking. 
who would you have preferred in the 
highest office? 

WAYNE: Barry Goldwater would at least 
have been decisive. I know for a face 
that he's a truthful man. Before the "64 
election. he told me that he said to the 
Texan. "I don't think we ought to make 
an issue out of Vietnam because we both 
know that we're going to probably end 
up having to send a half a million men. 
over there.” Johnson said, “Yeah, that’s 
probably true, Barry, but Гус got am 
clection to win." So Barry told the ruth 
and Johnson got elected on a "peace" 
form—and then began to ease them 
few thousand at a time. I wish our 
nd Fulbright would bring out those 
points. 

IE Douglas MacArthur were alive, he 
also would have handled the Vietnam. 
situation with dispatch. He was а prov- 
en administrator. certainly a prove 
leader. And MacArthur understood what 
Americans were and what Americans 
stood for, Had he been elected President, 
something significant would have hap- 
pened during his Administration. He 
would have taken a stand for the United 
tes in world а , and he would have 
stood by it, and we would have been 
respected for it. I also admired the tie 
salesman. President Truman. He was a 
wonde. ful, feisty guy who'll go down in 
history as quite an individual. It's а cinch 
he had great guts when he decided to 
ighten things out in Korea: it's just 
too bad thar the State. Department was 
able to frighten him out of doin 
plete job. Seems to me, politics have en- 
tered too much into the decisions of our 
leadership. 1 can’t understand politician 
"They're either yellowing out from tal 
a stand or using outside pressure to im- 
pove their position. 

PLAYBOY: why you've refused to 
run for public office yourself? 

WAYNE: Exactly. 

PLAYBOY: Is that what you told George 
Wallace when you were asked to be his 
mate on the 1968 American 
Independent ticker? 

WAYNE: No, I explained that I was work- 
ing for the other Wallis—Hal Wallis— 
the producer of True Grit, and that Fd 
been a Nixon man. 

PLAYBOY: What do you think of Nixon's 
performance since ther 
WAYNE: I think Mr. Nixon is proving 
himself his own man. I knew he would. 
I knew him and stuck with him when he 
was a loser, and I'm sticking with him 
now that he’s a winner. A lot of extreme 
rightists are saying that he isn't doing 
enough, but I think he's gradually 


Is d 


PLAYBOY 


88 


wading in and getting control of the 
reins of Government. 

PLAYBOY: What impressed you about him. 
when you first met him? 

WAYNE: His reasonableness. When he 
came into office, there was such a hue 
nd cry over Vietnam, for instance, 
that it didn't seem possible for a man to 
take a stand that would quiet down the 
extreme leftists. He came on the air and 
explained the situation as it was from 
the beginning and then he told the 
American people—in a logical, reason- 
ing way—what he was going to do. And 
then he bi to do it. 

PLAYBOY: What he began to do, of course, 
was "Vietnamize" the war and withdraw 
n troops. How can you approve 
of these policies and also advocate all- 
out war? 

WAYNE: Well, I don't advocate an all-out 
war if it isn’t necessary. All I know is 
that we as а country should be backing 
up whatever the proposition is that we 
sent one man to die for. 

PLAYBOY: If that view is shared by as 
many Americans as you seem to think, 
then why was The Green Berets—which 
has been labeled as your personal state- 
ment on the Vietnam war—so universal- 
ly panned? 

WAYNE: Because the critics don't like my 
politics, and they were condemning the 
‚ not the picture. I don't mean the 
critics as a group. T mean the irration- 
ally liberal ones. Renata Adler of The 
New York Times almost foamed at the 
mouth because I showed a few massacres 
on the screen. She went into convul- 
sions. She and other critics wouldn't 
believe that the Viet Cong are trea 
ous—that the dirty sons of bitches ar 
raping, torturing gorillas, In the picture, 
T repeated the story General Stilwell told 
me about this South Vietnamese mayor. 
The V.C. tied him up and brought 
his wife out and about 40 men raped 
her; and then they brought out hi: 
teenage daughters, hung them upside 
down and gutted them in front of him 
And then they took an iron rod and beat 
on his wife until every bonc in her god- 
damn body was broken. That's torture, 
I'd say. So I mentioned this in the pic- 
ture, and the critics were up in arms 
about that. 

PLAYBOY: Did their comments jeopardize 
the financial success of the film? 


E 


two 


Green Berets would have been successful 
regardless of what the critics did, but it 
might have taken the public longer to 
find out about the picture if they hadn't 
made so much noise about it. 

PLAYBOY: Did you resent the critics who 
labeled it a shameless propaganda film? 
WAYNE: I agreed with them. It was an 
American film about American boys who 
were heroes over there. In that sense, it 
was propaganda. 


PLAYBOY: you have any difficulties 
getting The Green Berets produced by a 
major studio? 

WAYNE: A lot of them. Universal said 
they wanted to make the picture and 
we made a deal. Then the boys went 
10 work on the head of Universal. 
PLAYBOY: What boys? 

wayne: The liberals. I don't know their 
names. But all of a sudden Universal 
changed its mind. They said, "This is 
an unpopular war." And I said, “What 
war was ever popular? You've already 
made the deal.” Then they started s 
ing, “Well, we don't want you to direct" 
trying to use that as an excuse. So I 
said. “Well, screw this" So I let them. 
nege and ] just walked out. In an 
hour, I'd made another deal with War- 
ner Bros, which was in the process 
of being sold to Seven Arts. Meanwhile, 
the guy at Universal couldn't keep his 
mouth shur. I let him off the hook, but 
he started blasting in the Hollywood 
Reporter that the picture couldn't make 
any money. I didn't go to the press and 
these bastards backed out of a deal, 
but Jater—after Warner Bros—Seven 
rts released it—I was very happy to 
inform Universal of the picture's succes 
PLAYBOY: The Alamo was another of 
your patriotic films. What statement did 
this picture make? 

WAYNE: I thought it would be а tre- 
mendous epic picture that would say 
“America.” 

PLAYBOY: Borden Chase, the screenwriter, 
has been quoted as saying: “When The 
Alamo was coming ош. the word of 
mouth on it was that it was a dog. This 
as created by the Communists to get at 
Wayne. Then there were some bad re- 
views inspired by the Communists. . . . 
її а typical Communist technique and 
they were using it against Duke for what 
he in the early Fifties at the. Moti 
Picture Alliance for the Preservation of 
American Ideals.” Is that true? 

WAYNE: Well, there's always a little ruth 
in everything you hear. The Alliance 
thing was used pretty strongly against me 
in those days. 

PLAYBOY: Was the Motion Picture АШ- 
ance formed to k list Communists 
and Communist sympathizers? 

WAYNE: Our organization was just а 
group of motion-picture people on the 
right side, not leftists and not Comm 
I was the president for a couple of years. 
There was no black list at that time, as 
some people said. That was a lot of 
horseshit, Later on, when Congress passed 
some laws making it possible to take 
a stand against these people, we were 
asked about Communists in the indus- 
uy. So we gave them the facts as we 
knew them. That's all. The only tl 
our side did that was anywhere near 
black listing was just running a lot of 
people out of the business. 


PLAYBOY: That sounds a good deal worse 
than black listing. Why couldn't you 
permit all points of view to be expressed 
freely on the screen? 

WAYNE: Because i's been proven that 
communism is foreign to the American 
way of life. If you'd read the official 
Communist doctrine and then listened 
to the arguments of these people we 
were opposing, you'd find they were 
reciting propaganda by rote. Besides, 
these Communist sympathizers ran а lot 
of our people out of the business, One 
of them was a Pulitzer Prize winner 
who's now a columnist—Morvie Ryskind. 
They just never used him again at MGM 
after Dore Schary took charge of the stu- 
dio, even though he was under contract 
PLAYBOY: What was the mood in Holly- 
wood that made it so fashionable to take 
such a vigorous stand against commu- 
nism? 

WAYNE: Many of us were being invited 
to supposed social functions or house 
parties—usually at wellknown Holly- 
wood homes—that turned out 
to be Communist recruitment meetings. 
Suddenly, everybody from make-up men 
to stagehands found themselves in semi- 
nars on Marxism. Take this colonel I 
knew, the last man to leave the Philip- 
pines on a submarine in 1942. He came 
back here and went to work sending 
food and gifts to U.S. prisoners on 
Bataan. He'd already gouen a Dutch 
ship that was going to take all this stuff 
over. The State Department pulled him 
off of it and sent the poor bastard out to 
be the technical director on my pic 
ture Back to Bataan, which was being 
made by Eddie Dmytryk. 1 knew that 
he and а whole group of actors in the 
picture were pro-Reds, and when 1 
wasn't there, these pro-Reds went to 
work on the colonel. He was а Catholic, 
so they kidded hi rcligion 
They even sang the Znternationale at 
lunchtime. He finally came to me and 
said, "Mr. W ven't anybody to 


writers 


n about h 


I went to Dmyt 
you a Commie?” He said, "No. I'm not 
a Commie. My father was a Russian, I 
was born in Canada. But if the masses 
of the American people want commi 
nism, I think itd be good for our coun 
try." When he used the word "masses, 
he exposed himself. That word is not 
part of Western terminology. So 1 kne 
he was a Commie. Well, it later came 
out that he was, 

I also knew two other fellas who real- 
ly did things that were detrimental to 
our way of life. One of them was Carl 
Foreman, the guy who wrote the screcr 
play for High Noon, and the other was 


Robert Rossen, the one who made the 
picture about Huey Long, All the King's 


Men. In Rossen's version of All the 


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PLAYBOY 


30 


King's Men, which he sent me to read 
for a part, every character who had any 
responsibility at all was guilty of some 
offense against society. To make Huey 
Long a wonderful, rough pirate was 
great; but, according to this picture, every- 
body was a shit except for this weakling 
hern doctor who was trying to find a 
place in the world. I sent the script back 
to Charlie Feldman, my agent, and said, 
"M you ever send me a script like this 


again. TH fire you." Ironically, it won 
the Academy Award. 
High Noon was even worse. Every- 


body says High Noon is a great picture 
because Tiomkin wrote some great mu- 
sic for it and because Gay Gooper and 
Grace Kelly were in it. So it’s got every- 
thing going for it. In that picture, four 
Buys co 1 to gun down the sherill. 
He goes to church and asks for lı 
and the guys go. "Oh well, oh gee” 
the women stand up and say. “You're 
rats. You're rat e rats.” So Cooper 
goes out alone. It's the most un-Ameri- 
can thing I've ever seen in my whole 
life. The last thing in the picture is ole 
Coop putting the United Sunes mar- 
shal's badge under his foor and stepping 
on it. ГИ never regret having helped 
з Foreman out of this country 

gave you the right? 

g him out of the country 
just a figure of speech. But I did tell 
him that I thought he'd hurt Gary Coo- 
pers reputation a great deal, Foreman 
l, "Well, what if I went to England?" 
id, “Well, that's your business.” He 
, "Well thats where I'm going." 
And he did. 

PLAYBOY: You seem to have a very blunt 
way of dealing with people. Why? 
WAYNE: Гуе always followed my father's 
advice: He told me, first, to always keep 
my word and, second, to never insult 
1ybody unintentionally. If J insult you, 
you be goddamn sure 1 intend to. 
And, third, he told me not to go wound 
looking for trouble. 

PLAYBOY: Don't you sometimes stray from. 
these three tenets— particularly from the 
third one? 

WAYNE: Well, I guess 1 have had some 
problems sticking to that third rule, but 
I'd. say I've done pretty damn well with 
the first and second. Т try to have good 
enough taste to insult only those 1 wish 
to insult. Гуе worked in а business 
where it’s almost а requirement to break 
your word if you want to survive, but 
contract for five 
for a certain amount of money, 
Туе always lived up to it. 1 figured that 
if I was silly enough to sign it, or if 1 
thought it was worth while at the time, 
that’s the way she goes. I'm not say- 
ng that I won't drive as hard a bargain 
is E сап. In fact, I think more about that 
end of the business than I did befor 
ever since 1959, when | found that my 
business manager was playing more chan 


years 


he was working. I didn't know how bad 
my financial condition was until my 
lawyer and everybody else said, "Let's 
all have a meeting and figure out ex- 
actly where you stand.” At the conclusion 
of that meeting, it was quite obvious 
that I wasn't in anywhere near the 
pe that I thought I was or ought to 
25 years of hard work. If they'd 
en me the time to sell everything 
(ош taking a quick loss, I would 
have come out about even. 
PLAYBOY: Were you involved in 
losing deals? 
WAYNE: Yeah. Oil and everything ese. 
Not enough constructive thinking had 
been done, Then there was the shrimp 
fiasco. One of my dearest friends was 
Robert Arias, who was married to the 
ballerina Dame Margot Fonteyn, W 
his brother Tony alive, we h 
control of about 70 percent of the 
shrimp in Panama. We were also buying 
some island property near the Panama 
Canal. We were going to put in а ship- 
repair place. There were tugs standing 
down there at $150 dollars a day to drag 
ships back up to the United States, 
prices in the Canal Zone 
were so high. But our plans fell through 
when Tony was killed in 
accident. Around a half a m 
lars was lost, 
PLAYBOY: Has you 
improved since th 
WAYNE: II anytl ppened то me 
now, I have the right amount of insur- 
ance, I hope and pray. for my сы 
I'm about as big a rancher as th in 
Arizona, so I have outside interests other 
than my motion-picture work. The tur 
ing point was the moment I decided to 
watch what was being done with my 
money. 

PLAYBOY: Another—and certainly morc 
d ic—turning point for you was 
cancer operation in 1964. At the 
‚ were you optimistic about tlie out- 
come of the surgery? 

WAYNE: Well. I had two operations six 
days apart—one for a cancer that was as 
big as a babys fist, and then one for 
edema. I wasn't so uptight whe 
told about the cancer. My biggest fear 
me when they twisted my windpipe 
and had to sew me back together à 
second time. When my family came in 
to see me and I saw the looks on their 
faces, I figured, "Well, Jeez, I must be 
just about. all through." 

PLAYBOY: How did you kecp your spiri 
up? 

WAYNE: Ву ul 
family and my 


попсу. 


was 


because repa 


financial. condition 


te. 


your 


Т was 


g about God and my 
friends and telling my- 
1 be all right.” And 
it was. I licked the big C. I know the 
15 will pull the plug when he 
wants to, but I don't want to end up my 
life being sick. I want to go out on two 
feei—in action. 

PLAYBO' Does 


the loss of one lung 


restrict you from doing those rough- 
house movie stunts? 

WAYNE: The operation hasn't impeded 
anything except that I get short of breath 


quickly. Particularly in the higher alt- 
tudes, that slows me down. [ still do 
my own fights and all that stuff. I'd 


probably do a lile bit more if I had 
more wind, but I still do more than my 
share. Nobody else does anything any 
more than I do, whether they're young 
or old. 

PLAYBOY: Is it a matter of machismo for 
you to continue fighting your own fights 
wayne: І don't have to assert my virili 

think my career has shown th 

not exactly а pantywaist. But I do take 
pride in my work, even to the point of 
being the first one on the set in the 
morning. m а professional. 

PLAYBOY. In recent years, you've fallen 
off horses rather unprofessionally on a 
couple of occ 


ag the production of The 


Undefeated. Wasn't that embarrassing? 
acket Туе 


WAYNE: What the hell, in 
fallen off a lot of horses. I ev: 
on purpose in True Grit. Bul t 


n The Undefeated was irrita 
cause T tore some ligaments 
shoulder. 1 don't have good use of on 


arm anymore. and it makes me look 
an idiot when I'm getting on a horse 
PLAYBOY: 15 that an unfamiliar experi- 
ence? 

WAYNE: Getting on a horse? 

PLAYBOY: Looking like an idiot. 

WAYNE: Not hardly. One of the times I 
really felt like a fool was when I was 
working on my first important film, The 
Big Trail, in Yuma, Arizona. 1 was three 
weeks flat on my back with furistas—or 


Montezuma’s revenge, or the Aztec two- 
step. whatever you want to call it. You 
know, you get а little grease and soap 


on the inside of a fork and you've got it 
Anyway, that was the worst case Г ever 
d in my life. I'd been sick for so long 
they finally said, “Jeez, Duke, il you 


th: 
can't get up now, we've got to get some- 


body else to take your place.” So, with a 
loss of 18 pounds, 1 returned to work. 


My first sce actor 
named Tully is known 
to booze d a big 


jug in his 
him down 


a week 
we Stull 
the scene, 


blood for 
and now I just poured that т 
right down my throat. After 
you can bet I called him every 
n old bastard. 

PLAYBOY: You've long been known for 
your robust drinking habits, whether it’ 
roigut bootleg or imported Scotch. How 
great is your cap 
WAYNE: Well, I'm full grown, you know. 
Im pretty big and got enough fat on 


ind of 


Cutty Sark. 
The only one of its kind. 


Tn the clipper era, magnificent tall ships sailed 
herculean races from China and Australia. 
The stakes: Fortunes and reputations. 

Only the fastest clippers challenged Cutty Sark. 
Неге are three. None have survived. Only 
Cutty remains in permanent berth in England. 
Today, as a century ago, Cutty Sark is unique. 


Thermopylae, fastest 


ge 
of the tea clippers for j 
years. But in 1872, after j 


the most famous and 
controversial clipper / 
race of all time, Cutty 
Sark was declared 
winner of "the blue 
ribband of the Pacific." асия 


Ariel, onc of the sleckest, most beautiful 
clippers ever built. In 1872, she 

left Shanghai а day before Cutty Sark. 
Cutry beat her home by a week. 


Derwent, 

constant rival of 
‘Cutty Sark’sin the days 
of the Australia 
trade. In 1888, Derwent 
departed Sydney over 
two weeks ahead of 
Сшгу Sark. 

Ситу was home first 
by three days. 


Mustrations ard text frem "The Leg of the. 
Cutty Sark” reprinted with permission of 
Brown, Son & Ferguson, Led - Foblahen. 


Cutty Sark's 
century-old 
reputation is 
honored by the 
Scots whisky that 
took her name. 
For generations, 
Cutty Sark has 
blended only 
Scotland's best 
whiskies to create 
the exceptional 
Cutty Sark taste... 
and the character 
only Cutty Sark 
can offer. 

Cutty Sark. 

It stands alone. 
You'll know why. 


rine “Live 
СЯ pi onder 


WYO. Ofer зым where prohibied 


PLAYBOY 


me, so I guess I can drink a fair amount. 
PLAYBOY: What kind of liquor has pro- 
vided your most memorable hangovers? 
WAYNE: Conmemorativo tequila. "That's 
as fine a liquor as there is in the world, 
Christ, I tell you it's better than any 
whiskey; it’s better than any schnapps; 
s better than any drink I ever had 
my life. You hear about tequila and 
think about a cheap cactus drink, but 
this is something extraordinary. 
PLAYBOY: Many people argue that 
hol may be à moi ngerous hi 
hazard than marijuana. Would you agree? 
WAYNE: "There's been no top authority 
saying what marijuana does to you. I 
really don't know that much about it. I 
tried it once, but it didn't do anything to 
me. The kids say it makes them think 
theyre going 30 miles an hour when 
they're going 80. If that’s true, mari- 
juana use should definitely be stopped. 
PLAYBOY: Have you had any other expe- 
rience with illegal drugs? 

WAYNE: When I went to Hong Kong, I 
tried opium once, as a clinical thing. I 
heard it didn't make you sick the first 
time, and. Jesus, it just didn't affect me 
one way or the other, either. So I'm not 
а very good judge of how debasing it is. 
PLAYBOY. Do you think such drugs are 
debasing? 

WAYNE: It’s like water again: cliff. 
Each wave deteriorates it a little more, 
I'm quite sure that’s the same thing that 
happens to human beings when they get 
hooked on drugs What bothers me 
more is society's attitude toward drugs. 
We allowed all the hippies to stay to- 
gether in Haight-Ashbury and turn it 
into a dirty, filthy, unattractive place. 
We allow the glorifying of drugs in our 
business—like in Easy Rider, where the 
guy says, "Jesus, don’t you smoke pot?" 
Žas if smoking pot is the same as chew- 
ig Bull Durham, 

PLAYBOY: You chew tobacco, don’t you? 
WAYNE: I learned to do that in college. 
During football season, when we couldn't 
smoke, we always used to chew. When I 
was a kid, if you wore a new pair of 
shoes, everybody would spit оп them. T 
haven't. practiced spitting lately, so don't 
wear your new shoes and expect me to 
hit them with any accuracy. I'm not the 
marksman I used to be. 

PLAYBOY: You chew, but you don't use 
drugs. Do you still have as much drink, 
food and sex as you used to? 

WAYNE: I drink as much as Т ever did. I 
eat more th I should. And my sex life 
is none of your goddamn business. 

AYBOY: Sexuality, however, scems a 
large part of your magnetism. According 
to one Hollywood writer, "Wayne has a 
sexual authority so strong that even a 
child could perceive it.” Do you feel you 
still convey that onscreen? 

WAYNE: Well, at one time in my career, 
Т guess sexuality was part of my appeal. 
But God, I'm 63 years old now. How the 
hell do I know whether I still convey 


that? Jeez. It’s preity hard to answer 
а question like, "Are you attractive to 
broads?” All that crap comes from the 
way I walk, I guess. There's evidently а 
virility in it. Otherwise, why do they 
keep mentioning it? But Fm certainly 
not conscious of any particular walk. I 
guess I must walk different than other 
people, but I haven't gone to any school 
to learn how. 

PLAYBOY: Another 


your image 


tegral ingredient of 
rugged manliness, a 
readiness to mix it up with anyone who 
gets in your way. Have you ever run 
into situations in a restaurant or a bar 
in which someone tried to pick a fight 
with you? 

WAYNE: It never happens to me any- 
more. Whatever my image is, it's friend- 
ly. Bur there was one time, a number of 
years ago, that I did get a litile irritated. 
I was wearing long hair—the exception 
then, not the rule—and I was, if I say so 
myself, a fairly handsome kid. Anyway. 
I'm dancing with my wifeto-be and I'm 
saying to her, quietly, "You're beautiful 
enough to marry.” Some punk alongside 
pipes up, “Forget about him, lady; not 
with that hair." So I sat her down and 
ned very gently to 
if he would step outside, ГА 
Kick his fuckin’ teeth down his throat. 
That ended that. 

PLAYBOY: Having once worn long hair 
yourself, how do you feel about long- 
haired young people? 

WAYNE: They don’t bother me. If a guy 
wants to wear his hair down to his ass, 
I'm not revolted by it. But I don't look 
at him and say, "Now there's a fella Га 
like to spend next winter with." 

PLAYBOY: Who would you like to spend 
time with? 

WAYNE: That's easy. Winston. Churchill. 
He's the most terr fella of our cen- 
tury. If I had to make a speech on the 
subject of communism, T could think of 
nobody that had a better insight or that 
said things concerning the future that 
have proven out so well. Let me read to 
you from a book of his quotes. While 
Roosevelt was giving the world com- 
munism, Churchill said, "I tell you- 
"s no use arguing with a Communist. 
It's no good trying to convert а Commu- 
nist, or persuade him. You can only deal 
with them on the following basis . . . you 


can only do it by having superior force 
on your side on the matter in question 
inced that 


—and they must also be con 
you wil 
—these forces if necess; 
ruthless manner. 

“You have not only to con 
Soviet government that you have su- 
perior force—but that you are not re- 
strained by any moral consideration if the 
сазе arose from using that force with 
complete material ruthlessness. And that 
is the greatest chance of peace, the 
surest road to peace." Churchill was ш 
paralleled. Above all, he took a near! 


beaten nation and kept their dignity for 
them. 

PLAYBOY: Many pessimists insist that our 
nation has lost its dignity and is headed 
toward self-destruction. Some, in fact, 
compare the condition of our society to 
the decline and fall of the Roman Em- 
pire and the last days of Sodom and 
Gomorrah. Are you that gloomy about 
the future of America? 

WAYNE: Absolutely not. I think that the 
loud roar of irresponsible 
which in the old days we called 


I think the pendul 
swinging back. We're remembering that 
the past can't be so bad. We built a 
nation on it. We must also look always 
to the future. Tomorrow—the time that 
gives a man or a country just one more 
chance—is just one of many things that 
I feel are wonderful in life. So's a good 
horse under you, Or the only campfire 
for miles around. Or a quiet night and a 
nice soft hunk of ground to sleep on. Or 
church bells sending out their invi- 
tations. A mother mecting her first-born. 
"The sound of a kid calling you Dad for 
the first time. "There's a lot of things 
great about But I think tomorrow is 
the most important thing. Comes in to 
us at midnight very clean. ya know. It's 
perfect when it arrives and it puts itself 
in our hands. It hopes we've learned 
something from yesterday. As a country, 
our y ys tell us that we have to 
win not only at war but at peace. So far 
we baven't donc that, Sadly, it looks 
ke we'll have to another war to 
win a peace. All I can hope is that in 
our anxiety to have peace, we remember 
our clear and present dangers and be- 
ware the futility of compromise; only if 
we keep sight of both will we have a 
chance of stumbling forward into a day 
when there won't be guns fired anymore 
in anger. 

PLAYBOY: Contrasting the America you 
Brew up in and the America of today, is 
it the same kind of country, or has it 
changed? 

WAYNE: The only difference I can scc is 
that we now have an enemy within our 
borders fighting with propaganda and 
coloring events in a manner that belit- 
tes our great country. But all in all, it's 
practically the same. 

PLAYBOY: In retrospect, would you have 
wanted your Ше to have been any 
different? 

wayne: If I had it to do over again, I'd 
probably do everything I did. But that's 
not necessarily the right thing to do. 
PLAYBOY: What legacy do you hope to 
leave behind? 

WAYNE: Well, you're going to think I'm 
being corny, but this is how I really 
feel: I hope my family and my friends 
will be able to say that 1 was an honest, 
kind and fairly decent man. 


WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PLAYBOY? 


A young man for whom the sky is the limit. Whether he’s off on a business venture or a romantic 
adventure, he’s a guy whose aspirations and income allow him to soar above the ordinary. Fact: 
PLAYBOY is read by 40% of all men under 35 earning $15,000 or more. Obviously, men on 
their way up... men most easily reached through the pages of PLAYBOY. (Source: 1970 Simmons.) 


New York ‘ Chicago ‘° Detroit - Los Angeles + San Francisco • Atlanta e London + Tokyo 


THE TRIP she followed 


him, worshipful and adoring, 
from one city to another, finally 
leaving her innocence behind 


FICTION BY V. S. PRITCHETT 


FRIDAY AFTERNOON about four o'clock, the week's work done, 
time to kill: The editor disliked this characterless hour when 
everyone except his secretary had left the building. Into 
his briefcase he had slipped some notes for а short talk he was 
going to give in a cheap London hall, worn by two generations 
of protest against this injustice or that, before he left by the 


night plane for Copenhagen. There his real lecture tour would 
begin and tum into a short holiday. Like a bored card player, 
he sat shuffling his papers and resented that there was no опе 
except his rude, hard-working secretary to give him а game. 
The only company he had in his room—and, in а way, it 
was a rather moody friend—was his portrait hanging behind him 
on the wall. He liked cunningly to draw people to say some- 
thing reassuring about the picture: It was “terribly good,” as 


the saying is; he wanted to hear them say he lived up to it. 
‘There was for him a strange air of rivalry in it, It rather over- 
did him. There he was, a handsome mixture of sunburned, 
satyrlike pagan and shady, jealous Christian saint under the 
happy storm of white hair. His hair had been gray at 30; at 47. 
by a suroke of luck, it was silken white. His face was an actor's, 
the nosc carved for dramatic occasions, the lips for the public 
platform. It was a face both elated and ravaged by the highest 


ILLUSTRATION BY HEOCA JOHNSON 


PLAYBOY 


beliefs and doubts. He was energized by 
meeting it in the morning and, enviously. 
he said goodbye to it at night. Its nights 
would be less tormented than his own. 
Now he was leaving it to run the paper 
in his absence. 

“Here are your tickets.” His secretary 
breezed into the room. ‘Copenhagen, 
Stockholm, Oslo, Berlin, Hamburg, Mu- 
nich—the lot," she said. She was manner- 
less to the point of being a curiosity. 

She stepped away and wobbled her 
tongue in her cheek. She understood his 
restless state. She adored him, he drove 
her mad and she longed for him to go. 

“Would you like to know what I've 
got outside?” she said. She had a mali- 
cious streak. “A lady. A lady from Guate- 
mala. Miss Mendoza, She has got a pres- 
ent for you. She worships you. I said you 
were busy. Shall I tell her to buzz off?" 

"The editor was proud of his tolerance 
in employing a girl so sportive and so 
familiar; her fair hair was thin and 
looked harassed, her spotty face set off 
the knowledge of his own handsomeness 
in face and behavior. He liked the state 
of war between them. 

Of course, I must see 
her" he exclaimed, “What are you 
ing about? We ran three artides on 
temala. Show her in.” 

ts your funeral,” said the girl and. 
gave a vulgar click with her tongue. The 
editor was, in her words, “a sucker for 
foreigners"; she was reminding him that 
the world was packed with native girls 
like herself as well. 

All kinds of men and women came to 
see Macaulay Drood. Politicians, who 
spoke to him as if he were a mecting, 
quarreling writers, people with causes, 
«ranks and accusers, even. criminals and 
the mad: They were opinions to him 
and he did not often notice what they 
were like. He knew they studied him and 
that they would go away boasting, “I 
saw Macaulay Drood today and he 
said... ." Still, he had never seen any- 
опе quite like the one who now walked 
in. At first, because of her tweed hat, he 
thought she was a man and would have 
said she had a mustache. She was a stump, 
35 square as а box, with tarry chopped- 
off hair, heavy eyebrows and yellow eyes 
set in her sallow skin like cut glass. She 
looked like some unsexed and obdurate 
statement about the future—or was it 
the beginninge—of the human race, 
long in the body, short in the legs and 
made of wood. She was wearing on this 
hot day a thick, bottlegreen velvet 
dress. Indian blood, obviously: he had 
seen such women in Mexico. She put 
out a wide band to him; it could have 
held a shovel; in fact, she was carrying 
2 crumpled brown-paper bag. 

"Please sit down," he said. A pair of 
heavy feet moved her with a surprising- 
ly light skip to a chair. She sat down 
stiffly then and stared without expression, 


like geography. 

“I know you are a very busy тап, 
said. “Thank you for sparing a minute 
for an unknown person.” She looked for- 
midably unknown. 

Тһе words were nothing; but the 
voice! He had expected Spanish or bro- 
ken English of some grating kind, but 
stead, he heard the small, whisperi 
birdlike monotone of a shy English ch 

“Yes, L am very busy.” he said. 
got to give a talk in an hour and then 
I'm off to lecture in Copenhagen. . . . 
What can I do for you?" 

'Copenhagent" she said, noting it. 

"Yes, yes, yes," said the editor. "I'm 
lecturing on apartheid.” 

"There are people who listen; there are 
people upon whom anything said seems 
not to be heard but, rather. to be 
stamped or printed. She was receiving the 
impress of the walls the books, the desk, 
the carpet, the windows of the room, 
memorizing every object. At last, like a 
breathless child, she said: "In Guatema- 
la, I have dreamed of this for years. I've 
been saying to myself, ‘Even if I could 
just see the building where it all hap- 
pens!’ I didn't dare think I would be 
able to speak to Macaulay Drood. It is 
like a dream to me. ‘If I see him, I will 
tell him, I said, ‘what this building 
and what his articles have done for my 
country.” 

Us a bad building. Too small," he 
said. "We're thinking of selling it. 

"Oh, no," she said. "I have flown 
across the ocean to see it. And to thank 


Ik came out like a kiss. 

“From Guatemala, to thank me?” The 
editor smiled. 

“To thank you from the bottom of our 
hearts for those articles.” The little voice 
ng. 
people read The Instigator in 
Guatemala,” said the editor, congratulat- 
ing that country and moving a few pa- 
pers onto another pile on his desk. з 

“Only a few,” she said. “The impor- 
tant few. You е kept us alive in all 
these dark years. You have held the torch 
of Freedom burning. You have been a 
beacon of civilization in our darkness.” 

"The editor sat taller in his chair. Cer- 
tainly he was vain, but he was a good 
man: Virtue is not often rewarded. A 
nationalist? Or not? he wondered. He 
looked at the ceiling, where, as usual— 
for he knew cyerything—he found the 
main items of the Guatem: 
He ran over them like a tune on the 
piano. ancial colonialism,” he said, 
“foreign monopoly, uprooted peasants, 
rise of nationalism, the dilemma of the 
mountain people, the problem of the 
coast. Bananas.” 

t is years since I've eaten one,” he 


n situation, 


said. 


The woman's yellow eyes were not 
looking at him directly yet: She was still 


memorizing the room and her gaze now 
moved to his portrait. He was dabbling 
with the figures of the singlecrop prob- 
lem when she interrupted him 

“The women of Guatemala,” she said, 
addressing his portrait, "will never be 
able to repay their debt to you.” 

“The women: 


He could not remember; was there 


anything about women in those articles? 


“It gave us hope. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘the 
world will listen, " she sa We are 
slaves. Man-made laws, the priests, bad 
traditions hold us down. We are the 
victims of apartheid, to 

And now, she looked directly at him. 

“Ah,” said the editor, for interruptions 
bored him. “Tell me about that. 

"I know from experience,” said the 
woman. “My father was Mexican, my 
mother was an h governess. I know 
what she suffered. 

“And what do you do?” s the edi- 
tor. "I gather you are not married?” 

At this sentence, the editor saw that 
something like a coat of varnish glis- 
tened on the woman's wooden face. 

“Not after what I saw of my mother's 
life. There were ten of us. When my 
father had to go away on business, he 
locked her and all of us in the house. 
She used to shout for help from the 
window, but no one did anything. People 
just came down the sucet and stood 
outside and starcd and then walked 
away. She brought us up. She was worn 
out. When I was fifteen, he came home 
drunk and beat her terribly. She was 
used to that, but this time she died.” 

“What a terrible story. Why didn't she 
go to the consul? Why” 

“He beat her because she had dyed her 
hair. She had fair hair and she thought 
if she dyed her hair black like the other 
women he went with, he would love her 
again,” said the childish voice. 
Because she dyed her hair 
editor. 

The editor never really listened to 
astonishing stories of private life. They 
seemed frivolous to him. What happened 
publicly in the modern world was far 
more extravagant. So he only half lis- 
tened to this tale. Quickly, whatever he 
d turned into paragraphs about some- 
g else and moved on to general ques- 
ns. He was wondering if Miss Mendoza 
had the vote and which party she voted 
for. Was there an Indian bloc? He looked 
at his watch. He knew how to appear to 
listen, to charm, ask a jolly question and 
then lead his visitors to the door before 
they knew the interview was over. 

"It was a murder,” said the woman 
complacently. 

The editor suddenly woke up to what 
she was saying. 

“But you are telling me she was mur- 
dered!” he exclaimed. 

She nodded. The fact seemed of no 
further imerest to her. She was pleased 

(continued on page 161) 


" said the 


“Shhhh!” 


OT SINCE NOAH set off in the ark 

has man been so preoccupied 

with water. Ecologically, scien- 
tifically and recreationally, the oceans 
have increasingly become a focal point 
for our energies. And with good reason; 
the sea covers over 70 percent of the 
earth and its depths constitute the largest 
uncharted frontier this side of outer 
space. Over the centuries, diving devices 
have ranged from the primitive (hollow 
reeds) to the highly advanced (a closed- 
circuit rebreather system that allows the 
wearer to stay below up to six hours). It 
was in 1943 that Captain Jacques Cous- 
teau, a French naval officer, jumped in- 
to the sea with his new invention, a scuba 
(self-contained underwater breathing 
apparatus) tank, strapped to his shoul- 
ders—and made a wave that swept 
across the world. Within a few years, 
thousands of swimmers had happily sunk 
below the surface to discover the diverse 
delights of the aqualung. More are join- 
ing them every day. 

Scuba diving is a sport that’s rela- 
tively easy to master—and once you've 
mastered it, there's a whole new king- 
dom to explore. The tank of compressed 
air on your back will enable you to stay 
below for about an hour and the rubber 
fins on your feet will provide a surpris- 
ingly effective aid to propulsion. For an 
underwater holiday, after you've com- 
pleted a scuba course (most Y. M. C. Аз 
offer them), you'd do well to follow the 
example we've set on these pages by Ну. 
ing to the Bahamas, where the water is 
clear and warm and the denizens of the 
deep are (text continued on page 112) 


7 


Top: Emerging from the deep, two divers tie up 
their inflotable sofety raft to о Formulo 23 
runobout ond quickly estoblish a friendly line of 
communication with the boor's oble-bodied 
Others in the 
their friends 


first mate, Above, left to righ! 
scuba porty splash down to jo 
below, who are already exploring a coral reef. 


For left: This romonticolly 
entwined couple has temporarily 
traded its oquolungs for a 
surface-cir-supply system thot 
includes o floating compressor 
ond two 25-foot-long air 

hoses hooked directly to full 
face mosks. Left: Another topless 
underwater sprite chonces on 
one of the seo's more intriguing 
soline citizens—an appropri- 
otely named puffer fish, 

which inflotes itself when 
angered or frightened. 


Above; These seagoers have 

hopped oboord a battery-powered 
SeoPlone that is copable of 

whisking them through the briny 

ot speeds over two knots. Divers’ oir 
consumption while oboord the vehicle is 
olsc lessened, since there's little 

to do but steer ond happily held on. 


Above: Two diving belles 

enjoy a breoth of fresh air—sans 
masks—inside the Subliminos 
Sea-Shell, a Plexiglas bubble roped 

to the rubber-cooted platform on which 
they're stonding. The girls, observed 
from above by a poir of curious 
oquanauls, hove creoted this underseo 
oasis by letting air ексоре from their 
regulators and into the shell. 


To hearty high-noon 
appetites that predictably follow 

а morning of scuba diving, this venture- 
some duo, at left, swims back to 

the boot with their king-sized 

catch—o Bahamian lobster—that soon 
will serve as the midday's main course, 


By the numbers: 1. Slurp gun for capturing fish, by Custom Salt Water Aquarium, 

$29.95, 2. Vinyl diving-geor bag, by Scubapro, $21. 3. OceanEye 100 water- 

proof camera housing, by Date Corporation, $595, shown with Nikon F camera, 

$316. 4. Electrolung closed-circuit breathing apparatus, by Beckman Instruments, $2975. 
5. Bouee Fenzy life jacket with air tank, from International Marine Supply, $99.50. 

6. Purus portable air compressor, by Moko Products, $695. 7. Neoprene helmet with 

light, by Birns end Sawyer, $99.50. 8. and 9. Olympic Model 400 regulator, $90, and 
Double 50 air tanks, $220, both by Dacor. 10. Diver's stiletto, by Scubapro, $8. 11. Scuba- 
master snorkel, by Healthways, $5. 12. Champion underwater mask, by U. S. Divers, 
$5.95. 13. Viking Giant Fins, by A. M. F. Voit, $18 a pair. 14, Al Giddings—designed Cine 
Mar 1 underwater camera housing, from U. S. Divers, $139.95, holds an 8X Super-Zoom 
movie camera, by Nikon, $299.50. 15. Mondial diver’s mask, by Decor, $14. 16, Treasure 
hunter's tool, by U. S. Divers, $5.95. 17. and 18. Abalone iron, $5.50, and a pair of 
vented Jet Fins, $20, both by Scubapro. 19. Battery-powered Diver Propulsion Vehicle, by 
Farallon Industries, $395. 20-22. Calypso IIl regulator, $106.50, Falco mask takes 
prescription lenses, $12.95, and Aqua-Lung tank, $124.50, all by U. S. Divers. 23. Dis- 
coverer Il underwater metal detector, by AZA Scientific, $895. 24. Nikonos 1 under- 
water camera, $198, shown with Nikonos Close-up Kit, $160.50, both from U. S. Divers. 
25. Scubair Sonic regulator with audible warning device, by Healthways, $110. 


| the perfect way to refresh the water- 

. weary. Right: With ell hands on deck, 
the ship's cook sets out a delicious 

meal that includes the freshly 

caught lobster, plus tossed solad, 
Bohamian grits (a savory mixture 

of rice, locally grown vegetables and 

hot tomoto souce) and a selection 

of fresh tropical fruit. The feost, 
eppropriotely enough, is 
served native style on plates ond mots 
made from Bchamion рот fronds. 


After all hove eaten their fill, the- 
group pauses awhile for 

rest ond totol relaxotion. One well- 
tanned sun worshiper, at right, 
prepares to take odvontage of the 
early afternoon's roys—and wins 
the silent approval of a shipmote. 


Above: After a lengthy undersea excursion, 
these privacy seekers moke о romontic 
retreat to о deserted strond, where 

seo and sky meld into a mognificent 
Bahamion sunset. Left; Unoble to resist o 
finol descent, they don wet suits ond 


strap on watertight lomps, oll the 

better to experience the sensual seclusion 
of an after-dark dive—o fitting night- 
copper to a day of aquotic exhilarotion. 


SEX 15 “FOR” MAKING BABIES. Every schoolboy knows that. The 
idea is ау ingrained in this society’s consciousness as the con- 
cept of the cyde of the seasons or the inevitability of death. 
It is as obvious as moonrise and tide fall that sex is for re- 
production. Nothing could be plainer. Man is propelled into 
the fevers of that splendid and ludicrous act by some basic 
е wired into him by a beneficent Mother Nature bent on 
seeing that the species is preserved. Without the lovely fires 
of lust, there is no sex; without sex, there are no babies; 
without babies, there is no longer man. Indeed, so important 
is this bit of information that we call it the fact of life. 

And since this fact is so central to our understanding of 
life, no wonder that it is the foundation stone on which all 
sexual thought has been built for ages. As the Christian Church 
puts it, in God's scheme, reproduction is the natural end and 
goal of that ineluctable moment. Therefore, any diversion 
from that natural course perverts God's law. All of Western so- 
dety's b: strictures about abortion, birth control, masturba- 
tion, oral sex, pornography and the temptations of little girls, 
sheep, ducks and watermelons spring from the idea that sex is 
for reproduction and should not be used for any other purpose. 

In the past couple of decades, a few people have suggested 
that perhaps we should not be quite so certain we know what 
God had in mind when He invented copulation: Perhaps He 
would not really care if we sometimes balled just for fun. Yet 
even if sex can be fun as well, surely its basic purpose must 
be conception. 

As it happens, it isn't The so-called facts of life are 
incorrect. On this point, our thinking is simply dead wrong. 
The Christian Church is wrong, most legal theory on sex is 
wrong; indeed, most secular sex theorists are wrong. In this 
article, I will try to show that for human beings, the main 
purpose of sex is not reproduction but something else. Con- 
ception—the making of babies—far from being the goal of 
ation, is merely a rare, almost accidental by-product. 

though it may not always seem so, is a ferociously 
complicated act. For most of man’s existence, he has not had 
more than a vague inkling of what it is for and how it works. 
But the new science of ethology, new information about the 
labyrinthine dips and turnings of evolution and the new 
facts about sex and people turned up by Kinsey, Masters 
and Johnson, and their confreres are beginning to add up 
to a radically new picture of (continued on page 190) 


THE 
PROCREATION 
MYTH 


as humans evolved, so did sex—from its 
primary function of making babies to having fun 
opinion By JAMES COLLIER 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY BILL ARSENAULT 


THE UNFORGETTABLE У " т , zx 7 
EXHIBITION GAME 
OF THE GIANTS 
VERSUS THE DODGERS, | 
TROPICAL BUSH LEAGUE 


an x-rated story wherein 
the morale of company k, 
badly sagging, is bolstered 
by an unexpected 

boon from headquarters 


humor By JEAN SHEPHERD 


"GET THE LEAD OUT OF YER ASS, you 

guys! Fall їп!” 

“That makes eight hunnert "n' ninety- 
six,” Gasser whispered under his breath 

"Eight hundred ninety-six what” I 
whispered out of the side of my mouth. 

"I been countin’. Ever since Basic." 

“AT EASE!" 

Company K instantly fell silent. Only 
the steady drone of our Signal Corps 
search radar broke the desolate stillness. 
But that didn't count, since it had 
hummed day and night, 24 hours on end, 
until it had become part of the stillness 
A horsefly buzzed past my eyes, parting 
the shimmering heat waves like a tiny 
spaceship. The rash between my shoulder 
blades had awakened with the morning 
sun. A million tiny needles pricked my 
back and seemed to crawl around under 
my armpits. A faim breath of air from 
the swamp tinkled our dog tags аз we 
waited for Sergeant Kowalski to finish 
the morning ritual, 

"Eight hundred ninety-six what” I 
asked again in the faintest of whispers, 
trying to keep my face at attention. 

"Eight hunnert ‘n’ ninety-six forma- 
tions in a row," said Gasser, sotto voce, 
as Kowalski stalked up and down in 
front of the company, flicking over the 
pages on his dipboard. “That's the eight 
hunnert ‘n’ ninety-sixth time that little 
bastard has said ‘Get the lead out of yer 
ass. Fall in.” 

I lost interest. For the past six months 
or so, my mind seemed to be floating in 
warm water. 

"AT EASE, GODDAMN IT!" Kowal- 
ski's green Air Corps sunglasses flashed 
in the sun, It was just another morning 
in Company K. We stood strung out in 
a ragged formation over the blinding 
coral sand, amid scraggly palmettos, com- 

108 pletely unaware that a great event in our 


ILLUSTRATION BY GORDON KIBBEE 


ae SN 
A = SU 
AI У 


PLAYBOY 


110 


lives was about to take place. 

"Men, if I have to tell you about 
them butt cans again, there's gonna be 
some assbustin' around here." We shift- 
ed in the heat, waiting lor the next 
boring blast from Kowalski’s inexhausti- 
ble arsenal of harassment. “Goddamn it, 
I'm gettin’ tired of bitchin’ about them 
butt cans. I want 'em emptied every 
night, у" hear, or am I going to have to 
detail somebody to do it 

My heat rash now seemed to be creep- 
ing down to the backs of my knees. My 
mind drifted off over the horizon as the 
endless tirade about the butt cans con- 
tinued. Kowalski tapped a yellow pencil 
on his dipboard to emphasize the sali- 
ent points of his lecture. 
what diddle: 
Elkins, our company driver, who was 
directly behind me in formation. 

"The following personnels will report. 
at oh-eighthundred tomorrow morning 
to get their shots renewed . . ." Kowal 
ski droned on. It was the usual morning 
business. 

“Uh-oh,” Gasser breathed a warning. 
Lieutenant Cherry, the C.O., had ap- 
peared next to Kow “Keep yer 
low. Here it comes.” The lieutenant rare- 
ly made an appearance outside the or- 
derly room before noon. He carried on his 
furtive secret life far from the rabble of 
Company K. His appearance at this hour 
was ominous, He was dressed in crisp sun- 
tans, in itself an unusual sight around 
Company K. We had long since given up 
wearing uniforms and usually dragged 
around in GI shorts, shoes and, of course, 
dog tags. Lieutenant Cherry carried a 
manila folder. 

"ATTEN-HUT!" Kowalski barked out 
favorite corn 
ment among the r: 
1 come to attention. Kowalski stepped 
back and Lieutenant Cherry took charge. 
For a lone moment, he peered through 


It was 


his steel-rimmed GI glasses up and down 
the company. 
“Gentlemen. . . Lieutenant Cherry 


had a thin, clerklike voice, dripping with 
weary irony. He was a disappointed 
man, a Wes Pointer who, through 
some cruel trick of fate, had found him- 
self in charge of a unit so far down the 
Amy table of organization as to be 
practically nonexistent, “. . . I am in 
receipt of the following memorandum 
from Amy Headquarters.” He paused 
to brush ineffectually at a swarm of 
gnats that was passing by on their way 
to better things. "Tt concerns this com- 
pany. You will listen carefully.” He 
cleared his throat. Kowalski shot a ray 
of menace up and down the ranks to 
make sure we obeyed orders. “To all 
units in the Signal Air Warning Com- 
mand: There has been a marked decline 
in morale among radar-operating teams. 
‘This will cease as of this date. 

Gasser muttered something under his 


breath. Elkins sniffed listlessly. “'A pro- 
gram of morale-building ас here- 
by ordered. Auhletic-type equipment will 
be furnished through quartermaster chan- 
nels and will be made available to the 
Е.М. by order of the commanding of 
ficer of each unit’ Cherry paused to 
swab at his sweaty forehead. ‘‘Hence- 
forth the morale of Signal Air Warning 
Radar detection teams will be at a high 
level. By order of the Commanding Gen- 
eral, Army Headquarters, Ай Defense 
Command: ” 

Ihe lieutenant finished reading, in 
his singsong voice, and lowered his m 
nila folder. “АШ right— Cherry's 
halfbeat pause before the word men 
made it sound faintly sarcastic. “Imı 
ter moming chow, we will begin 

ing a baseball diamond over in B 
area. Those of you who are off shift will 
be supplied with tools and will continue 
work until it is completed.” 

An electric current swept from m 
man. A ball diamond! lt was the 
mildly interesting thing that had hap- 
pened in Company K lor longer than 
any of us could remember. For the first 


ien." 


time in months, I forgot my heat rash. 
Even Gasser had stopped muttering 
obscenities. 


"Any questions?" 

“Yessir.” Mitropoulos our resident 
Greek from the West Side of Chicago, 
raised his hand. 

“Yes?” The lieutenant seemed always 
to find Mitropoulos amu 

“Are we going to be allowed to play 
baseball on the diamond, 

“That is a good question, Mitropou- 
los.” The lieutenant gazed moodily ир: 
ward at the brassy sky, as though deep 
in thought. At length, he answ 

‘What is a ball field generally used for, 
Mitropoulos?" 

“Are you asking me, sir" Mitropou 
los always a little slow, was caper to 
please. His stomach bowed out tautly in 
front of him. It was his idea of s 
at attention. 

"Yes, Mitropoulos.” 

“Uh—to play baseball, sir.” 

“Very good, Mitropoulos.” The lieu- 
tenant smiled as at a performing ape. 

"You mean, sir, we're going to play 
real ball games?" 


“That is correct, Minopoulos" The 
lieutenant turned to Kowalski: "Scr 
geant, I'll put you in charge of this 


matter. And see d 
good time; 

“Yessir!” 
his biceps s 
his sleeve. “They will, 
aware of how right he was. 

“Aw right, you guys, you heard what 
the lieutenant said, After morning chow, 
the second section will meet in front 
of the supply room. And I don't want 
nobody draggin’ a ошбу gonna 


the boys have a 


Kowalski saluted smartly, 
apping taut the stripes оп 
He was not 


have morale or ГШ burn a few butts 
around here. DIS-MISSED! 

“I think our good sergeant put that 
rather well, don't you, Gaser” Zins. 
meister chewed on a rubbery Milky-Way 
bar as we straggled back ro our baking 
tent. 

“Now look, Zinsmeister, 1 don't need 
no wisin' off. I gotta think this ove 
Gasser, six feet, five and а natural pitch- 
er, pulled his fatigue hat down low over 
eyes against the slanting rays of the 
sun, which was already bu 
heat into my festering rash. 

“Keerist, I can't believe it. Company 
K is gonna have morale. Now ihere's a 
twist.” It was Eikins, whose own lack of 
morale was a byword in the chaplain's 
tent, where he spent countless hours 
trying to wrangle a transfer out of the 
Signal Corps—into anything. He had 
long since become known as “T. S. 
kins. He was so desperate, in fact, that he 
had been known to sing Bringing m the 
Sheaves loudly at Sunday services, figur- 
ing that maybe the chaplain would 
break down and spring him. What he 
didn't know was that God Squad Gor 
man, our nearsighted battalion chaplain, 
had been trying to get transferred him- 
self for over a year and couldn’t make it. 

“Elkins, do you know precisely what 
morale is?’ smeister carefully licked 
his thumb, so as not to waste any 
chocolate. 

"Yeah." Elkins spat at a passing lizard. 

“Would you please define it for us?” 
Zinsmeister shaded his eyes and peered 
upward into a palm tree, squinting as 
though he thought something would fall 
out of it. Our dog tags clinked as we 
shuffled through the shimmering heat 
toward our six-man tent in the listless 
gait that all soldiers use around the 
company area. 

“Yeah, well, you tell us. 1 don't feel 
like it.” Elkins scratched his hairy belly 

“Come on, T. $., surely you know what 
morale is," Zinsmeister persisted. 

“Tell "em about morale, El 
that smartass wi morale is,” 

- This brilliant debating society had 
been in continuous session since our 
earliest days of Basic. Everyone knew his 
part. 1 was just a spectator. Elkins, Gas- 
ser, Edwards and Zinsmeister operated 
like a well-oiled machine, with Zinsmei- 
ster as the moderator. 

Before Elkins could pick up his cue, 
Zinsmeister continued: "Do you remem- 
ber that movie we saw the other night 
when it rained?” 

Company К had movies twice a 
month, which were scheduled to coin- 
cide exactly with the nightly downpour. 
‘They were outdoor movies, of course, 
but life was so crashingly dull 
pany K that no one stayed in h 
no matter how bad the 

(continued on page 204) 


Tell 


“I think he's getting serious, Mother—he asked me to stay to lunch.” 


111 


PLAYBOY 


112 signs that identify the п 


SCUBA-—DO! 


both colorful and varied. The aquatic 
underworld off the western of New 
Providence (the island on which Nassau 
is located) is a spectacular panorama of 
coral gardens and reefs. Novice scuba 
divers often select this area for initial 
undersea excursions, as conditions are re- 
liably tranquil, beaches are virtually tide- 
less and none of the rivers empties into 
the ocean; thus, there's little turbulence 
to stir up sediment and the water is al- 
most always gin-clear. Furthermore, the 
water temperature seldom drops below 
70 degrees and often hovers around the 
750-80 mark. You can begin the day, as 
we did, with an early splashdown, then 
explore during the morning and pause at 
noon for a letsurely lunch break and a 
short siesta. Later, you'll be back into the 
sea for more sport down below, perhaps 
ending your underwater excursion with 
а nocturnal dive. 

There's another reason why many scu- 
ba divers are drawn to the Bahamas— 
shipwrecks. Because of the wicked ofi- 
shore reefs and shoals, hundreds of ships 
went to the bottom in this atea before 
the development of sophisticated navi- 
gational equipment. It's estimated that 
there's still $150,000,000 in gold, silver 
and other valuables awaiting lucky find- 
ers. (One ship, the El Capitan, which 
sank in 1719, was carrying more than 
$2,000,000 worth of gold alone.) Nassau is 
an ideal jumping-off spot for treasure 
hunting, as is Freeport on Grand Ba- 
hama Island, where the headquarters of 
the Internat: Underwater Explorers 
Society is located. (By joining this organ- 
ization, you'll have use of its extensive 
ies, which include а two-story prac- 
tice-dive tank, a library stocked with 
books on the aqualung and marine life, 

nd a number of craft specifically de- 
signed for underwater exploration.) 

Bermuda is reputedly surrounded by 
the clearest waters in the western Atlan- 
On an average day, you can easily 
see 100 feet, and visibility for 200 feet is 
not unknown. Water temperatures range. 
from a low of 61 degrees in the winter to 
a high of 84 in the summer, and here, 
too, there are wrecks galore, On one 
ancient ship, the San Pedro, divers dis- 
covered a gold-and-emerald cross valued 
at $75,000, perhaps the single most. valu- 
able find in recent years. 

The U.S. Virgin Islands are part of 
the curving chain known as the Lesser 
Antilles. Scuba conditions around most 
of the Virgins are excellent. Just off St. 
Croix, for example, you'll find Buck 
Island Reef National Park, an under- 
water wonderland offering nature trails 
along which divers can glide while read- 
ing the various strategically positioned 
ny varieties of 


(continued from page 98) 


coral. Firsttimers may wish to practice 
at Pelican Cove, near Christiansted Har- 
bor, as the water there is warm and quite 
shallow. But if you've already acquired 
your undersea legs and can handle tricky 
currents and other more arduous condi- 
tions without losing your cool, then you'll 
probably prefer to scuba off Seven Mile 
Reef or ncar East End, not surprisingly 
at the extreme eastern tip of the island. 
Keep in mind that both these areas are 
for experts only. 

If you'd like to really get away from it 
all—above as well as below the water— 
then consider the island of Cozumel, 
located just 11 miles off the Yucatán 
Peninsula. Scuba aficionados have ranked 
it as one of the five outstanding areas in 

he world for diving—along with the Red 
Sea, the Indian Ocean, French Polynesia 
and Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. Al- 
though Cozumel is not yet developed 
for large-scale tourism (the population 
is about 3900), diving facilities are ex- 
cellent, with compressors and air tanks 
available on a rental basis. Once suit- 
ably equipped, you'll want to head for 
the six-mile-long Palancar Reef, lying just 
offshore. The reef extends downward 
at an acute angle into the depths of 
the Caribbean Sca. As you drift through 
sand-bottomed canyons, you may see 
huge sea turtles, red snapper, yellowtail 
and parrot fish and perhaps even a bar- 
racuda. 

With 6000 miles of coast line washed 
by warm, crystal-clear water, Mexico is 
well suited to scuba diving. and equip- 
ment can be purchased or rented in all 
the major areas, Acapuko, of course, 
offers a full complement of luxurious 
hotels, clubs and restaurants, thus ensur- 
ing that your hours spent ashore will be 
emorable as those spent in the sea. 
When you've eaten and drunk your fill 
and are ready for a change of scenery, 
both above and below the water line, 
take the 150-mile drive up the coast 
from Acapulco to the undeveloped fish- 
ing village of Zihuatanejo. The small 
hotels there have rental equipment and 
the local scuba guides will gladly take 
you to the most rewarding diving areas. 
Ivs definitely worth the trip. 

If you'd prefer to do your diving 
within our own coastal waters, the area 
around La Jolla, California, called the 
La Jolla Caves, is daimed to be the 
birthplace of diving in the United 
States. It was there that one of the na- 
tion's first diving dubs, the Bottom 
Scratchers, made the first scubaless de- 
scent in the late Twenties. And there, too, 
is the famed Scripps Institution of Ocean- 
ography, which attracts the world’s top 
undersea scientists and explorers, Al- 
though the water temperatures around 


as 


La Jolla aren't the bathtub-warm read- 
ings you'll have experienced farther 
south, they are comfortable: а wet suit 
(а foam-neoprene outfit that uses the 
water as а heat insulator) is needed only 
during the colder months. Winter water 
temperatures never dip below 56 degrees 
and summer usually finds the undersea 
thermometer hovering between 65 and 
68. Visibility can be as high as 80 feet 
or as low as 25 during heavy surf. San 
Diego has recently outlawed spearfishing 
near the Caves and turned this area into 
а marine preserve. 

Farther north on Highway One, just 
south of Carmel, you'll find Point Lobos 
State Reserve, а 775-acre underwater 
park—one fourth of which is open to 
sport diving. (Fhe rest is reserved for 
research purposes) Though the water 
temperature there averages a cool 54 
degrees, Point Lobos is an extremely 
popular diving ground, especially with 
underwater photographers, since it's one 
of the few places where species of fish 
and plant life of the north and south 
coasts overlap. Equipment can be casily 
purchased or rented; there are two dive 
shops within ten miles of the park. 
Regulations for Point Lobos are typical 
of what you'll encounter at most super- 
sed diving grounds. You must wear an 
inflatable vest (which can be opened 
underwater for quick buoyancy or when 
you reach the surface) and display a 
er's flag attached to a flotation de- 
е. The flag warns boaters that there 
are divers in the area and, according to 
marine custom, they must stay outside a 
100-foot radius of your marker. You must. 
also dive with a buddy—an excellent rule 
to follow whether using an aqualung or 
just skindiving with face mask, flippers 
and snorkel. 

Other California underwater areas 
that you may wish to explore indude the 
waters off Santa Catalina Island and 
around the Channel Islands of San Nico- 
las, Santa Cruz, Anacapa and San 
Barbara. Farther south, near the Mex! 
can border, you should try the Coronado 
Islands, and up north, off San Francisco. 
are the Farallones, Equipment shops for 
the latter are conveniently located 
San Francisco, Berkeley and land. 

If you prefer to do your diving off 
iami, you'll have picked an ideal lo- 
cale: Just south of the city is the only 
living coral reef within the continental 
waters of the United States. One of the 
reef's most spectacular stretches can be 
found off Key Largo in John Pennekamp 
Coral Reef State Park—an incredibly 
beautiful underwater kingdom dotted 
with a number of sunken ships. 

Easterners intent on going down into 
the sea this summer should figure on 
wearing wet suits, for the waters, especial- 
ly along the New England coast, are 
notoriously chilly. In some areas of New 
England, diving is illegal because of 

(continued оп page 222, 


۳ 


POWER PLAY 


the brinkmanship of the electric companies must be 
opposed, says the award-winning washington journalist, 
who offers a plan to solve the kilowatt crisis forever 


article By ROBERT SHERRILL The most serious, immedi- 
ate threat to the enviromnent—and (о the consumer's pocketbook— 
comes from the developing cooperation between the fucl industry and 
the electric-power industry. If they have their way, and there are 
signs that they will, then the most harmful source of air pollution 
will go uncontrolled, along with our most monopolistic markets. The 
si n has become so critical that some responsible observers are 
beginning to use such unkind words as conspiracy and collusion. 
Vermont Senator George D. Aiken, one of Congress’ watchdogs of 
the energy industry, was not accused of hysteria when he warned that 
what's happening constitutes “a very serious threat to political de- 
mocracy,” because "when you control energy—and oil interests now 
control coal and are on their way to controlling nuclear fucl—then 
you control the nation." Of specific concern, he said, is the evidence 
that "there is some group determined to get control of electrical en- 
ergy in this nation." That would be a natural target for any group 
interested in controlling all of the nation's power systems—or in 


14 


chain-reaction profits—because, if Montana Senator 
Lee Metcalf knows what he’s talking about, “Electric 
power is by far the nation’s largest industry. It's 
growing rapidly because it has a monopoly on an 
esse product. The electric utilities took the light- 
ing business away from the gas utilities hall a century 
ago. They appear to be on their way toward domi 
tion of the heating area as well. They are going into 
the realestate and housing business in a big way. 
They are intertwined with the banking and insurance 
industries and have extraordinary force in politics, 
the educational system and the press." The concentra- 
tion of the industry is impressive. The 212 largest 
private electric companies (as distinguished from 
public outfits like TVA, the rural electric co-ops and 
the municipals) are said to constitute about one 
eighth of all investment in U. S. industry. 

And from the environmentalists’ point of view, the 
electric utilities are of paramount concern. The coal 
and oil they burn produce more than 50 percent of 
the deadly sulphur dioxide and nearly 30 percent of 
the particulates in air pollution of our cities—whidh is 
why Jerome Kretchmer, the Environmental Protection 
Administrator for New York City, can hardly be 
thought to exaggerate when he contends that “power 
versus the environment is the issue for the Seventies.” 
(New York's sulphur-dioxide level is three times higher 
than the safe maximum set by Federal and state of- 
ficials, and a heavy atmospheric inversion this summer 
could kick it up to a level that would kill enough 
people to case che city's tight housing situation.) 

Nothing unusual there. With an Amherst. physicist 
claiming to have evidence that between 1000 and 
10.000 lungcancer deaths each year are caused by 
electricpower-plant emissions, and with some scien- 
tists now tentatively estimating that coal-burning pow- 
er plants may be putting as much as 150 tons of the 
newest hazard, mercury, into the ecosystem each year, 
ics hardly surprising to find diat Senator Edmund 
Muskie and other politicians rate power pollution at 
the head of the list of environmental plagues 

Aside from the various chemicals and dirty solids 
the industry dumps on us, the face of America has 
been permanently mutilated by 67,000 miles of extra- 
high-voltage transmission lines strung across 1,300,000 
acres of land—and, in all likelihood, by 1990 there 
will be 165,000 miles of lines hanging over the land. 
By 1980, the generating plants will be pirating one 
sixth of our fresh water as a cooling agent and 
returning it ıo the streams and lakes at such a 
heightened temperature that fish will have to swim 
for their lives. Algaeic scum will follow. 

This continual degradation of what was once a 
green and pleasant land may be halted only by a 
massive public confrontation. The situation is neatly 
summarized by Lee С. White, former chairman of 
that laissez-faire fraternity, the Federal Power Com- 
mission: “It is perfectly evident that the dialog be- 
tween the environmentalists and utilities is beginning 
to shift. The utilities are no longer being asked, "Why 
don't you locate your plant in a site other than the 
опе you haye selected?’ The question being asked 
today is, ‘Can you ify the construction of an addi- 

ional plant anywhere? 

For several years it's been plain that if the electric- 


utility companies were to escape stiffer regulations, 
they would either have to pour research money into 
developing more efficient and cleaner methods of 
production, or they would have to fight off reform by 
political lobbying, propaganda and threats They 
chose the latier course- 

Habitually, the power industry has skimped on 
research —even while mooching billions of dollars of 
Government research funds. One knowledgeable wit- 
ness told the Senate Subcommittee on Fuels in 1970 
that there are “only 14 Ph.D.s in the entire utility 
industry.” Expert analysts have reported that all pow- 
er companies together spend only twenty-three hun- 
dredths of one percent of their operating revenue for 
R & D, which proportionately is about one ninth 
what the Bell System spends for that purpose, and 
about one eighth as much as the utility companies lay 
out in advertising to persuade the consumer to use 
more of the power they often cannot provide. 

Not wishing to break their habit of sloth, the big 
electric companies decided to fight reform regulations 
by other means, For this, they teamed up—conspired, 
connived, whatever word seems to fit—with the big 
oil, gas and coal companies. Their weapon was fear, 
based on disruptions of electric service. 

Electricity we've got to have. In vertical cities, there 
is no substitute for an elevator. For the urban cave 
dweller, who lives in canyons no breeze ever репе- 
trates, there is no alternative to an air conditioner. 
‘The gas furnace may compete with the coal or oil 
burner, but nothing competes with the light bulb. 

Ever since the 1965 power disruption that plunged 
much of the Northeast into darkness, the residents of 
most of the larger urban centers of the country have 
been wondering when the elevators would stop again 
between floors. And there have been enough black- 
outs and brownouts—more than 50 nationwide in 
1970, and a severe one in New York this past February 
—to keep the worry flourishing. Industry spokesmen 
insist that the crisis will last at least another five to ten 
years. 

Because they peddle an absolutely essential com- 
modity and because utilities are the only industrial 
monopoly protected officially by Federal and state 
governments, it's been quite easy for the electric 
power companies to create a crisis situation in which 
they coul successfully issue ulümatums: Let us 
charge the rates we want to charge, or we will permit 
our equipment to deteriorate and we will not develop 
new sources of power—so there will be critical black- 
outs. Let us build our power plants on the steps of 
city hall and string our transmission lines through 
national parks without protest from environmentalists, 
or we will permit so much of our operations to stop 
that normal life will be disrupted and endangered. 

A contrapuntal ultimatum has come from fuel 
companies, which want no restrictions on their profits 
or on their drilling and mining operations. In the 
fight for profits both groups have apparently won. 
The fuels that go into the production of clectricity 
have jumped in price by as much as 130 percent in 
the past year. The elearic-utility industry's income, 
which was 19.4 billion dollars for the 212 largest 
companies in 1968, is believed to have jumped a 
billion dollars a year since (continued on page 224) 


RIGHT NUMBER 


debuting as the star of a porno-movie satire, “the telephone book,” 


sarah kennedy has obviously found her calling 


SCHAPIRO. 


In settings reminiscent of her native Oregon, Sarah forgets, for a 
time, the coreer decisions she'll be making in the near future. She’s 
considering film offers as well as a possible role on Broadway. 


‘A OF MODERN CINEMA, the journey to movie stardom 
ave Hollywood as its destination, as 23-year-old Sarah Ken- 
nedy is pleasantly discovering. For her, it began when she dropped 
out of Oregon State University during her sophomore year, dis- 
tisfied with life as a coed. Her basic unhappiness stemmed from the 
fact that, on campus, she was known primarily for her third-cousin 
relationship to the political Kennedys. Discouraged by this gilt-by- 
association and by only a fair academic record, Sarah impulsively 
decided to head east. She settled in Manhattan and was working as 
a receptionist in a film-production office when a client asked her to 
appear in a commercial for his company. She agreed, found that she 
liked the work and subsequently appeared in other TV spots, one 
of which w: iewed by New York mo producer Merwin Bloch, 
whose attention was focused on Sarah rather than on the sponsor's 
product. At his invitation, she tested for, and landed, the lead in 
The Telephone Book, a randy spoof that opens with Sarah receiving 
an obscene phone call. Instead of finding it repulsive, Sarah is sen- 
sually aroused by her caller's voice and immediately sets out to learn 
his identity. Whether critics will regard The Telephone Book as 
meritorious or meretricious is still unknown, but for Sarah it means 
a starring role in her first picture—and a future that promis 
make this Kennedy cousin-to-the-clan a public figure in her own right 
In The Telephone Book, Sarah searches for an obscene phone caller and, along 
the way, encounters such bizarre affairs as on en-mosse audition, below, for a stag 
movie. Right: At first reluctant їо participate, she eventually gets in on the act. 


come to lovely paradise plage, 
the most expensive resort in 
the world—youlll never guess 


what your $3000 a week includes 


HAUNTS 
OF THE 
VERY RIGH 


fiction By T. K. BROWN III 


THE SIX OF THEM were the only passengers in a 
North American Sabreliner high over the un- 
seen continent, running swiftly southward from 
New York. None of them knew where they 
would come to earth again. Purposely, they had 
not been told. 

Far from being disturbed by that, they were 
delighted with something new to laugh about 
and to get acquainted over. The headlines of 
their discarded copies of the Times—a develop- 
ment in the Common Market talks, the death of 
that famous what'shisname rock singer, a tax 
proposal in Congress that might pinch those in 
their high bracket just a little more—these stale 
things were nice to forget. For the moment, they 
were charmed with their little novelty. The chairs 
were very soft and they were all getting slightly 
drunk. 

“Good style! Good style!” said Peter Wood- 
rough as if he were approving something he'd 
seen at Wimbledon or Forest Hills. Indeed, with 
his 50ish pink face and his smooth gray hair, he 
scemed to have just come off a country-dub court 
somewhere. “I like the uniforms of the ground 
personnel. I like the way the limo brought us 
right onto the runway and put us aboard with- 
out any passport nonsense. I суеп like those 
opaque windows—superb touch of mystery, don't 
you think?” 

“Only unmysterious thing is the price of it 
all, wowiel Cost-account everything and you'd 
probably find that martini in your hand is fifty 
bucks" Albert Hunsicker said. He laughed а 
stout man's laugh. But Mary, his pinched-faced 
wife, didn't laugh. Why was he always making 
jokes about something that was almost sacred? 
she thought. 

"Don't complain, old boy," Woodrough said. 
"While you're on vacation, your blue chips will 
go up a point. I predict it. So you'll be even- 
stcvcn as far as money goes when you get back. 
And you want things nice, don't you? You don't 

t any old shabby jet, do you? T 
costs just over а million bucks. My firm's got 
three of them and I would've flown one 
down myself except (continued on page 144) 119 


ILLUSTRATION BY SEYMOUR ROSOFSKY 


how to elevate the lowly egg to heady heights 
food By GEORGE BRADSHAW эл are much ma- 


ligned. “Difficult,” “chancy,” "maybe" are what you hear about them. 
Nonsense. ‘They are easier to make than a common stew. There is only 
one inflexible rule about a soufflé: It must be eaten when ready. А 
souflé will not wait upon people: People must wait upon a soulllé 
You will benefit by reading the following paragraphs before you 
plunge into any of the recipes. They will give you some insight into 
why you are doing what you are doing—a very comfortable feeling for 
anyone who finds himself in a kitchen making his first soufflé 


The Soufflé Dish: You can make а souffié in any heatproof utensil 
of no more than two-quart capacity. It is best, however, to use the tradi 
tional French white-china dish; it makes the soufflé look better when it 
es to the table. I have almost always specified a two-quart dish, be- 
cause with it you do not need a collar—that piece of paper tied around 
the rim of the dish to prevent the soufflé from running over. I find 
collars a pretentious nuisance, 


com 


All of these recipes are for four people. You may halve any 
of them and use a one-quart dish. Under no circumstance should 
you attempt to double or triple a recipe and try to cook it in a big 


bowl. It won't work. Make, instead, two or three soufllés of the u: 


al 
size. lt is useful to have a oneand-a-half-quart dish also. There 


are several soufflés—lemon and tomato, for instance—that, for some 
reason, are reluctant to rise very high. They look more successful 


PHOTOGRAPHY EY OWIGHT HOOKER 


121 


in а oncand-a-half-quart. dish, 

II you wish to serve individual soufllés 
—clam, for example, makes a good first 
course—there are small-size dishes that 
hold about eight ounces. Of course, 1 am 
speaking of the classic and, 1 think, best 
way of serving a soufflé. But actually, it 
can be cooked in almost anything—half 
an orange rind, а scallop shell, inside a 
crepe, a baked-potato skin—indeed, even 
on a flat plate. 

Preparation of the Dish: The bottom 
and sides of the soufflé dish should be 
rubbed with butter. For entree and vege- 
table soufilés, sprinkle a little flour over 
the butter. For dessert soufllés, sprinkle 
with a litle sugar. If you should some- 
times forget to do this, don’t worry; 
really isn't vital. 
itg Whites: The whites of eggs should 
mil they are stiff and creamy. 

Overbeating will make them hard and 
dry. If you use a hand beater, this advice 
is superfluous, since you will probably be 
exhausted long before the whites can 
become hard and dry. The warning is 
for anyone who might be too ambitious 
with an clectric mixer. If the whites are 
too still, they simply will not combine 
easily and thoroughly with the sauce. So 
watch for the right moment; the whites 
will be ready when they glisten and 
stand in peaks. 

In each of the recipes, you will notice 
that a large spoonful of whites is folded 
into the sauce before this sauce is drib- 
bled into the rema: tes. Don't 
neglect to do this. It lightens the sauce 
—aerates it—so that you do not have the 
dead weight of a heavy mixture drop 
plunk, on the bubbles of egg whites. 

Cream of Tartar: You will notice that 
a half teaspoon of cream of tartar is in- 
cluded in all of the following recipes. 
Sprinkle it over the egg whites as they 
are being beaten. A veteran soufllé mak- 
er will likely ignore this instruction, but 
the recruit will do well to follow it. For 
cream of tartar is insurance—like a 
major-medical policy, which you may 
never need but which is comforting to 
have around: It stiffens the backbone 
of the egg whites, guaranteeing that they 
do what they are supposed to do—rise 
and shine. 

Cooling: ‘This is one of the real re- 
quirements of soufllé making. The sauce 
must be cool. (А good way to determine 
the right temperature is to hold the top 
of your double boiler in the palm of 
your hand. If you can do this comforta. 
bly, the sauce is ready.) 

Cooking: In all the recipes, a 350* 
oven is called for. It must always be 
preheated. 

Cooking time will vary. I have made 
numberless soufllés that were ready in 25 
minutes On the other hand, I have 
encountered recalcitrant soufflés, made 
from the same recipes, cooked in the 

122 sime oven, that demanded 30 minutes 


PLAYBOY 


So I have had to come up with a method 
for testing. A soufllé as long as it re- 
mains in its warm oven home, is a pretty 
sturdy dish. You don't have to worry 
about tiptoeing around the kitchen or 
opening the oven door and taking a 
look. At about minute 22, I open the 
oven door and give the dish a little 
shove. И the top of the soufflé shakes 
only slightly, E know it is well mannered 
and will be done in two or three min- 
utes. If, on the other hand, the crust 
really trembles, so that I have the feeling 
that the underneath is still soupy, I 
recognize a delinquent that will re- 
quire another eight, or even ten, minutes. 
After you haye made this test on several 
хош, you will find yourself able to 
judge the degree of doneness exactly. 

We begin with a breakfast soufflé—not 
for an early morning meal when you're 
late for the office but for lazy Saturdays 
or Sundays when time doesn't matter. 
While you're waiting for the soufllé to 
bake, have whatever is the best fresh 
fruit at the moment, then, afterward, 1015 
of hot buttered toast or croissants and a 
variety of jams—or better yet, some 
sharp piccalilli and, of course, strong 
black coffee. 


BACON AND EGGS SOUFFLE 


3 tablespoons butter 

3 tablespoons flour 

114 cups well-seasoned chicken broth 

5 eggs, separated 

1 cup crisp crumbled bacon 

Y teaspoon cream of tartar 

Melt the butter in the top of a double 
boiler. in the flour and cook for a 
few minutes, Add the chicken broth and 
stir constantly until the mixture is rich 
and smooth. Remove the top of the 
double boiler from the heat. Let the 
mixture cool a bit and beat the egg yolks 
and add w the mixture along with % of 
the bacon. Let the mixture cool thorough- 
ly. Beat the egg whites until they are stiff 
and creamy. Sprinkle the cream of tartar 
over them as you beat. After the egg- 
yolk mixture has cooled, spoon about 14 
of the whites into it and combine them 
vigorously. Dribble this mixture over the 
remaining whites, lifting and folding 
carefully until all is combined. Place the 
mixture into a buttered and floured 2- 
quart soufilé dish. Sprinkle the remaining. 
bacon on top of the soufflé. Bake for 
about 95 minutes in a preheated 350° 
oven. Test to be certain it is done. 


Entree Souffés 
CHEESE SOUFFLE 


8 tablespoons butter 
3 tablespoons flour 

1 cup milk 

% Ib. cheddar cheese, grated 

Dash of cayenne pepper 

6 eggs, separated 

Y teaspoon cream of tartar 

In the top of a double boiler (over 


boiling water), melt the butter, stir in 
the flour and cook for а 
minutes, then add the milk and the 
cheese and, stirring constantly, cook un- 
til the mixture is rich and smooth, about 
5 minutes. Remove the top of the 
double boiler from the heat, add a dash 
of cayenne and the egg yolks and beat 
all is smooth. Allow the mixture 
to cool, 15 minutes at least. Beat the egg 
whites until they are stiff and creamy. 
Sprinkle the cream of tartar over them 
as you beat. When the cheese mixture is 
cool, spoon about Y4 of the egg whites 
into it and combine vigorously. Now 
dribble this mixture over the remaining 
egg whites and lift and fold carefully 
until all is combined. Slide this mixture 
into a buttered and floured 2-quart 
soufllé dish and place in a preheated 
350° oven. This should be done in about 
25 minutes, but test it as suggested in 
the introduction. 


ANCHOVY SOUFFLE 


3 tablespoons butter 

3 tablespoons flour 

1 cup chicken broth 

1 202. jar anchovies with capers and 

olive oil or 11% tablespoons anchovy 
paste 

4 egg yolks 

5 egg whites 

у teaspoon cream of tartar 

Put the anchovies into a bowl and 
mash them, capers and all, into a paste 
with a wooden spoon. 

In the top of a double boiler (over 
boiling water), melt the butter, stir 
the flour and cook for a couple of mir 
utes, then add the chicken broth and, 
stirring constantly, cook until the mix- 
ture is rich and smooth, about 5 minutes. 
Remove the top of the double boiler 
from the heat, add the anchovy paste and 
egg yolks and beat until all is smooth. 
Allow the mixture to cool, 15 minutes at 
leas. Beat the egg whites until they are 
stiff and creamy. Sprinkle the cream of 
tartar over them as you beat. When the 
anchovy mixture is cool, spoon about М 
of the egg whites into it and blend 
vigorously. Now dribble this mixture over 
the remaining egg whites and 
fold carefully until all is combined, Slide 
this mixture into a buttered and floured 
2-quart soufflé dish and place in a pre 
heated 350* oven. This should be done 
in about 25 minutes, but test it. 


SOLE SOUFFLÉ 


4 equal-size slices fillet of sole 

Juice of 15 lemon 

3 tablespoons butter 

3 tablespoons flour 

1 cup chicken broth 

Dash of salt and pepper 

1 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese 

4 egg yolks 

5 egg whites 

Ye teaspoon cream of tartar 
(continued on page 181) 


“Well, 1 guess this shoots to hell my membership in 
the women’s-liberation movement!” 


- paging dae ce 
“miss penningtoni.. 


a tpr opelled by a sure-fire mixture of ambition. and БЕА janice’s acting star is on the rise 


Y 


I'VE BEEN THINKING seriously about an acting career ever 
since I was twelve,” confesses 25-year-old Janice Pennington. 
"But 1 never admitted it because I was afraid people would 
consider me egotistical if 1 told them my ambitions.” She be- 
lieves that being raised in Southern California contributed 
to her precocious plans for stardom, which—except for one 


attempt to change them have remained unaltered. Finishing 


at the NBC television studi 


high school, she left the Goast for New Yor! 
becoming an actress. I told myself 1 simply couldn't make it 

films.” Trying for a career as a fashion mannequin, she 
eventually came under the auspices of Eileen Ford’s prestigious 
modeling agency; but even after 18 successful months, her 
screen aspirations hadn't faded, so she headed home to get 
an agent and begin answering casting calls. After supporting 


о forget about 


in Burbank for a day's work on Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. She chats with the se- 
curity guard, gets а parking token, then leaves her cor in ће lat. Once inside, Janice heads down the lang studio corridor taward a 


dressing room for her change into costume, passing by а photo af Arte Johnsan’s sly storm trooper, which stands sentry in the hallway. 


125 


a 


Above: In a Lough-in skit, as lovely aide-de-camp to The Great Martino, Janice ties up 
Dick Martin as co-host Dan Rowan looks on. Contrary to his boastful claims, Martin's attempt 
at o Hovdiriesque escape goes predictably awry. “During rehearsal, the knot kept slipping.” 
she confides. Below: As a go-go dancer in the Laugh-In cocktail-party scene, a body-painted 
Janice backs up two show regulars, Ruth Buzzi—wha’s decked out in her desperately 

ous lady-of-the-street costume—and, at left, o uniformed Dennis Allen. "While I'm 


doncing.” says Janice, "I watch the cast for comedy bits that might help me in the future.” 


Above: In another Laugh-n sequence, Janice finds herself in the clutches of dirty young 
mon Arte Johnson, whom she considers “unbelievably talented. His ear for diclect is just 
perfect, ond that kind of skill requires constont practice." Below right: Between scenes, 
Janice has her make-up retouched. Below: After the taping is completed, Jonice discusses 
future appearances on the show with Rowan and an NBC administrative official. "The great 
thing about doing Laugh-In is the opportunity it gives me to associate with such a 
voriety of tolents. They're the most gifted group of comedians since the old Steve Allen Show.” 


herself during lean times with trips to 
nearby Las Vegas for jobs in casino 
song-and-dance troupes, she graduated 
to appearances as an extra on the 
Playboy After Dark show, to small speak- 
ing parts in episodes of several other 
sion series and, finally, to а role as 
ngroom nurse who assists— 
then resists—surgeon Elliott Gould in the 
movie I Love My Wife. And now—in 
what could be her big screen br 
Janice is playing a columnistinterviewer 
in a satirical drama being filmed, without 
any prerelease publicity, by Orson Welles, 
about whom she speaks with a deferential 
admiration approaching reverence, "Ev. 
eryone in the movie is like a child at his 
feet, Not that he coerces you into that 
kind of attitude but you naturally fall into 
it because he’s so overpowering—mental- 
ly and physically.” Should this be the 
stroke of good fortune that she's been 
working and waiting for, Janice wants to 
weigh future script offers with consider- 
able caution. “I'm not in such a hurry 
that I'd play a role I didn’t feel was right 
she explains. There’s one kind 
of part, however, that Janice would ac- 
cept without а moment's hesitation. "I'd 
love to play someone slightly mad. I 
don't necessarily mean a villainess, just 


Above: Complying with her captoin’s orders, 
Jonice plays an eagerto-please airline 
stewardess while Phyllis Diller portrays an 
unlikely copilot in a scene from a Bob Hope 
television special. Right: Janice waits offstage 
for a playback of the tape as Hope goes 
ahead with another segment of the show 


someone kind of flipped out. That would 
be fascinating and challenging.” If she 
ever plays such a part, her portrayal 
will certainly belie the offscreen, at- 
home Janice, who calls herself “terribly 
normal” and enjoys such simple pas- 
times as cooking and sewing. She even 
remodeled her Sherman Oaks living 
room not long ago, plastering the walls 
and bricking the fireplace herself. This 
domestic know-how should serve Janice 
well in a role she hopes will be hers in 
the stilldistant future. "I want to live 
near a forest amd a river, away from 
smog, with a husband and children. I 
don't know where that is yet, but I'm 
certain that I want to be there.” We 
have every confidence that, given her 
characteristic determination, Janice will 
find it. Whether she's destined to be- 
come a film star or a housewife—or 
both—she's got all the ambition and 
the assets for a winning performance. 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES 


Right after he started undressing me" ex- 
plained the young thing to her roommate, 
told him he mustn't see me anymore." 
“What happened then?" asked her friend. 
"What do you think happened?" the girl 
said. "He turned out the lights." 


A conservative acquaintance of ours happened 
to mention that he knows a patriotic prostitute 
who has embroidered on her panties the star- 
spangled inscription: LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT. 


Upon arriving home сапу one evening, а weary 
suburbanite discovered his shapely wife in bed 
with a neighbor. “Since you're sleeping with my 
wife,” the irate man shouted, "I'm going over 
and sleep with yours.” 

“Go ahead,” replied the neighbor. “You prob- 
ably need the rest.” 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines saltpeter as 
a product that's not easy to come by. 


We know a theater critic who says that girls 
now do things onstage that they used to do 
offstage in order to get onstage. 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines psychiatrist 
as an ambivalence chaser. 


The gold-digging mother was concerned about 
the fact that her rather plain-looking daughter 
was not married. With the girl's permis- 
sion, her mother placed an ad in an under- 
ground newspaper that read: "Passionate, sexy 
young girl with many natural assets would 
like to meet elderly, wealthy gentleman who 
appreciates the good things in life. Object: 
matrimony.” 

Several weeks later, when the first reply was 
forwarded, the girl tore it open, read the 
response and immediately burst into tears. 

"What's wrong?" the mother asked. 

"Oh, Mom," the girl sobbed, 
раа!" 


it’s from 


Ата, of course, you've heard about the narcot- 
ics agents who busted а pot smoker just as he 
was lighting up a huge joint. They really 
nailed the head on the hit. 


Finishing his prepared statement, the bluster- 
ing politician threw the press conference open 
for questions. “Is it true that you were born in 
a log cabin?" one sarcastic reporter asked. 
“You're thinking of Abraham Lincoln,” the 
answered coolly. “I was born in a 


The captain of the college basketball team had 
just married a petite blonde and the school's 
coach could not understand why the giant 
pee had wed such a tiny girl. "She's hardly 
igger than your hand," the coach declared. 
“I know,” replied the court hero, “but she’s 
a hell of a lot better.” 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines pimp as a 
man who lives by broad alone. 


An aggressive salesman who had been working 
on a large account for months came into the 
office slightly the worse for wear one morning 
and tossed the signed contract onto his boss's 
desk. A litde later, the boss called him in. “Сег- 
tainly, I'm glad you finally got the president of 
the Acme Corporation to OK this order,” said 
the executive. "It's just that I'm not re that 
his signature written with a swizzle stick dipped 
in scy sauce is legally binding." 


A handsome bachelor and his ravishing date 
embraced outside the entrance to the girl's apart- 
ment house. As he held her close, the young 
man whispered a suggestion that was flatly re- 
fused. After several unsuccessful attempts to 
change her mind, the disgusted lad started away. 
“You're not leaving already?” cooed the startled 
lass. 

"Damn right, he grumbled. "It's too cold 
for the three of us to stand here much longer." 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines birth con- 
trol as multiplication tabled. 


iy ran 


The inebriated gentleman approached the at- 
tractive young lady who was drinking alone in 
a cocktail lounge and said, “1 guess we're here 
for the same reason.” 

“That's right," she said, dryly. "Let's go pick 
up some chicks.” 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines orgasm as a 
state-oFthe-union message. 


came down on the main attrac- 
Т. А. president stepped to the mi- 
crophone and announced: “I'm terribly sorry 
about what you just saw, but we had naturally 
assumed that Constance and Her Educated 
Monkey would be a children’s animal act.” 


As the cur 


Heard a funny one lately? Send it on а post- 
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 
Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 
Ill. 60611. $50 will be paid to the contributor 
whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned. 


“Could you put the rest in a bowser bag?” 


133 


article By GARRY WILLS ix 4 кклзахт Canadian 
schoolyard, children are washing cars to make money for 
their class project. Two Americans—all them Peter and 
gun in on ancient motorcycles. How much to wash a 
Fifty cents." They confer, come up with 60 cents, try 
to bargain with the kids for a two-bike package deal. They 
ned down. “What next?” Mickie asks. “Nothing,” says 
unles you want to rip off a kid to wash cars and 
dishes at the house.” 

А VW bus already dead and half-risen again and a feline 
little sports car now on the last of its nine lives join the 
and disgorge more Americans into the waning brilliance 
A mock trial takes place to decide which 
bike, as the dirtiest, gets the 50-cent treatment. Peter sur- 
reptitiously throws dirt on the one he rode. The result is a 
draw and the bikes remain unwashed, like their owners. 

‘The Americans, with headbands keeping shoulder-length 
hair out of their eyes, could be rebel Indians breaking out of 
a reservation. Instead, this afternoon, they are а ragged 
touch-football team. Mickie, thin and loose-jointed, leads the 
way ошо the dry field, caricaturing а drum majorette, knees 
almost hitting his chin d each pump of 
the great baton. "Don't fuck off," Dusty shouts indignantly. 
“Th for the honor of the United States of fuckin" 
America.” Dusty left the Army in haste—he had been shipped 
back to America on suspicion of selling arms to the Viet 
Cong ("A hundred and fifty dollars in scrip for ап M-16,” 
he reminisces dreamily. “Ah, fuck!"). 

They come here every Sunday to play a collection of 
adian high school footballers, phys-ed teachers and sei 
pro castofls—two-handed touch, Ca s (three downs 
a drive, no fair catch, etc). The Ame ns are not high this 
time—they ran out of grass and money two days ago and are 
waiting for a hashish shipment to peddle. In fact, they are 
badly hung over; without money, all they cin get is beer, 
charged to one of several accounts (all delinquent) at the 
grocery store. (In the store, they pretend not to recognize one 
another. “That guy? Just another fucker from America dodging 
the draft," Dusty tells the owner with contempt. He went to 
drama school before the Army got him.) 

"Siss," the Americans whistle, "boom," as the Canadians 
boot it, "bahhhhh," as it settles into Big Al's hands. Al is the 
quiet one who holds the house together, puffing moodily, 
never drinking, writing poems and manifestos, reading Ci 
He scampers well, fakes a lateral, then screams in pain— 


Canadian cleats have gouged away most of a big toenail; it 
dangles bloodily until Jimmy, Al's brother, twists the man- 
gled thing off and wraps his own headband around the toe. 
“An international incident!" Dusty trumpets "Off the 

ats! That's а non-fuckin'-negotiable demand.” The Amer- 
have taken the field in boots and sandals—all but Al. 
who is barefoot. Lladislaw, “our international diplomat,” is 
chosen to lead a legation to the other side. Llad is a 
Hungarian defector to the Israeli army who jumped ship 
with a large store of hashish in Montreal and worked his way 
а selling the stuff. His prime qualification as diplomat is 
that Canadians cannot understand his accent. Eventually, 
everyone is shoeless, and it is first down Americans. Dwayne 
takes charge— "I'll run the option." It doesn’t work, and no 
wonder, He had told me the night before how he “funked 
Arson 1” 

“It was my first try and I was alone, so I thought I'd knock 
off the only wooden building оп campus—just (ог practice, 
you know? It meant working right under a streetlight where 
campus police patrolled, but every other building looked so 
damn strong. This was hardly more than a shack. 1 soaked 
in gas, and spread them all around inside in a circle, 
leading out of a big gas drum and back into it. I had a roll of 
explosive fuse. So I got across the street and lit it. The silly 
fire just sat there and looked at me: it didn't go out, but it 
was smoldering away at a rate of about one inch every ten 
minutes—no light to it, just a little smoke, people walked 
right by it in the street, it was so damn sneaky and slow. 
Hell, I had bought slow fuse! I didn't want to spend the 
night watching it, so I split. It finally got there, I was told, 
and a little fire started. But it was put out. I figured it was 
time to retire. If I couldn't knock over a half-assed building 
like that, 1 couldn't bring down a goddamn tent!” 

Big Al had done beter. He got an К.О. T. C. building 
before he crossed the border. He has designs on other 
U.S. buildings, and has lined up the dynamite; but he 
would rather wait for some plastique: “It's easier to get across 
the border. I'll make goddamn decorative candles of the stuff.” 
Much of the dope dealt by the house—marijuana up over the 
border, hashish down—is transmitted inside the large candles 
they pour and sculpt. Now, crippled on the side lines, Al 
unwraps his bloodied toe to appreciative oohs and ahs of 
the children. He is good with kids. One of his poems tells of 
“the mirrorfaces of the very young," and his notebooks say 


WORLD 42 


FREAKS 


it isn’t easy to be a revolutionary-in-exile 
when you're out of pot, a one-way brother 
won't let his chick sleep around, and you 
have to play football by canadian rules 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHUCK WCOD 


135 


PLAYBOY 


136 


they are the reason he must risk further 
bombings 

The Canadians are scoring, it is 12-0. 
Nothing D can think of moves the 
ball from scrimmage. The big play so 
far was Jimmy's interception and 20- 
yard runback of a pass. Dusty pounded 
his back. "MVP here, M-fuckin’-V-P!" 
“Great,” Jimmy shouts. “What does the 
MVP gei? Hungarian potatoes in 
his English diction, smiles, “He ball Dani 
fist when she cured.” Dusty scowls at 
him—Dani is his chick, off to the city for 
her Monday morning gonorrhea treat- 
ment. “I would get one with the dap— 
but it's the last time she'll have it, you can 
bet. "There's nothing she hates more than 


those two shots in the ass on Monday. 
Soon the superior Cana: 

run thei 

game—they 


„ having 
score up to 42, tire of the 

are friendly but rather 
е the Americans more for 
their theatrics than their football. (Each 
hard block brings weird cries and magi- 
cal treatments. Even one yard gained 


from scrimmage calls for sür- 
ring rendition of the American nation- 
al anthem.) Sides are now rearranged, 


three Americans and two Canadians on 
cach, and а stream of little kids pours 
onto the field—this is the moment they 
have been waiting for. They know all 
the “freaks” by mame, and know they 
will be welcomed into the huddle. 
Even a passing group of high school 
girls is invited ош to play. “They're 
minnows,” Mickie says. “Throw them 
back.” Jimmy: "But so many minnows 
—nothing like a whole stream of mi 
поз to squirm in." The game disinte- 
grates as the freaks manage to give each 
kid a turn at passing or receiving. This 
is the only quarterbacking Dwayne is 
good at—he has a two-year-old son back 
in the States. 

Dusty breaks things off with, “I got 
to go to fuckin’ work.” “Cure him," 
“Pop him a mescaline.” "Chant him an 
O-O-W-M." "Bring on the medicine 
man." But the Canadian who owns the 
football is leaving anyway, and the freaks 
are hungry. 

Back at the house, strays and teeny- 
boppers who passed out or bedded down 
late Saturday night are awake now, 
trying to find something in the refrigera- 
tor. “There's nothing but salad," one 
girl complains; she's a French-Canadian 
high-schooler who comes every weekend, 
and is called Frou-Frou at the house. 

“Make way for Big Al. It's pancake 
time." "They have chaired him up the 
porch in their arms and told the girls of 
hiis heroic toenail sacrifice. But now they 
need a cook. They rose too late to eat 
breakfast and. make it to the game. Each 
had grabbed a remedial bottle of beer to 
drink on the way to the field. 

“Al, make a big supply of pancakes. 
don't eat we can use as 


"Frisbees, hell! I saved one last weck 


and put it on a stick for a fly swatter." 

“Make me two big ones—I'll use them 
for snowshoes next month.” 

Llad has gone up to watch TV—he 
spends hours before the screen, giggling 
and picking up English. His favorite 
shows in Hungary were American and 
English. “My friends were brokenheart 
ed when The Saint was canceled.” Llad 
and his brother live in a different house, 
occupied by non-American defectors, 
but he comes over here every day for 
the TV. 

Dusty calls Mickie into the front room 
to cut his hair and trim his beard—it 
dwindles to a matted goatee under the 
shears. “Who has a pair of pants?” “I 
do,” from Jimmy. “Not your dungarees 
with fuckin’ bell bottoms. I mean real 
pants. I gotta look straight for this job.” 
Dusty begins a temporary job as bounc 
er in а nearby tavern tonight—just ШШ 
the shipment of hash arrives. By the 
time he gets into Al's pants—a foot too 
short and certain to split if he actually 
bounces anyone—the girls are giving 
him а Mr. America treatment, all of 


them judges with fake little notebooks: 
“Nice as on him." "A ghrayt beeg 
blownd 


Greek God!” Frou-Frou ap 
“Yeah, but his swimsuit is too 
ight down over his goddamn 
knees.” Tina laughs, but does not join 
in—she was a high school teacher last 
ng. Al, looking round the corner from 
his stove, says, “You look like a French 
faggot.” “Yeah,” Dusty agrees, and goes 
up to shave the rest of his beard off. 

Llad, at the head of the stairs, shouts, 
“FLQ ripped off another!” Several people 
head for the TV. “Mother-sweet-fuck-er!” 
Dusty croons approvingly. The news is 
that the Front de Libération de Québec 
has kidnaped а second government 
the house admires the FLQ and 
acted it in the search for plas- 
They're so much more together 
American cals,” Al explains 
over his batter. "Wow! If they pull this 
off, the Panthers will bust every black 
man out of America's prisons." 

A car door slams—Tony, back from 
taking Dani to the city. His hair is short, 
the Army crewcut still growing out; his 
tanned thin arms are scribbled over with 
"good ole boy" unsoph 
His eyes light up at the sight of the two 
motorcycles and he kicks one off into 
the field, wheels slipping as he bangs off 
thin deciduous trees, then races halfway 
up an incline till the loose grass and 
leaves throw him, laughing crazily. The 
motor kicks and coughs itself to rest on 
the ground. 

“Bombed out of his head," Al mut 
ters, “Не was supposed to deal some 
dope in the city, but he got high on the 
first batch. Well, always happens 
When people first come over the border, 
they have |o stay high for a couple of 
weeks before they can get themselves 


Tony deserted last 
when his company was preparing to ship. 
out for Vietnam. “That means we'll 


have nothing but rice and salad for 


together. 


dinner tonight.” 
Dusty is back downstairs, clean-shaven. 
Frou-Frou sees him first: "Look at the 


surf keed." "Yeah," he moans, 
fuckin'-Donahue." The pancakes are mov- 
ing fas now, and taste good—stufling 
welcome rags into their hunger. The only 
pause is when Ohio drops onto the pho- 
nograph (a machine fed continuously 
night and day, and the benches are 
scuffed back for everyone to stand, hand 
over heart. “That's our house anthem, 
Al whispers as Crosby, Stills, Nash & 
Young weave the lament, "Four dead in 
Ohio.” Llad knows these English words 
well: “Soldiers are cutting us down.” As 
everyone sits down again, he says, “I left 
army because I could пос... 1 can КШ 
no one. In day, I peddled dope with 
Arabs we were supposed to ambush at 
ht." 

Jimmy disagrees: “There are some 
people I would kill with pleasure." 
Dusty: "Hell, they're killing us. Sending 
us out to kill others. The Marines arc 
worst. I once saw them string plastic 
explosive on wires from hut to hut in a 
Vietnam village, letting the people 
think it was a decoration, so they could 
get off on the way the people touched it 
and played with it and giggled—before 
they detonated it.” 

Al, who has been sampling his wares 
as he poured batter and flipped pan- 
cakes, calls people away from the 
“We have to get the trial started if 
Dusty is going to get to worl 

“On with the trial!" They retire to 
the front room, rough and paneled but 
clean, with а well-polished 
the fireplace. Every Sunday, 
s of house decorum are assessed 
and punished. Affidavits have to be 
made up before Saturday midnight to 
keep the session from becoming a cock- 
pit of sudden hostilities. “We don't want 
this to be two olous,” Al explains 
carefully. "People can't live together if 
they are not all into the community, if 
some are taking a free ride on it.” The 
tone is facetious, but a tense trial last 
week ended in the vote to purge one 
couple from the house. 

Tina is on wial first, for waste. She 
took a bottle of beer, sipped from it, 
did not finish it. Jimmy prosecutes—he 
found the nearly full bottle next morn- 
ing. Dusty defends—he argues it is the 
duty of others to fuckin’ find any bottles 
with beer left in them and drink the 
мий. She is voted guilty and made to 
h dishes one extra time next week. 
s" she 
house is rotten. with 
mL" “Goddamn right,” 
y applauds—"The only thing we 
about women's lib is no bras!" 

(concluded on page 186) 


f поп Ву BRAD WILLIAMS Aıonc tHe narrow and curving road that was the only means of access 

1 the north to the old seaport of Puerto Perdido, Paul Devlan had driven most carefully. The road map showed 
the highway as a thin, red, unbroken line; but this was a gross exaggeration, as the road often disappeared in a 
mesa or along the beach. In the latter case, it had not been difficult to pick it up, for when the hard-packed beach 
ended in a bluff, the road started again, winding back up to another mesa. Here it again would disappear and he 
was forced to course the opposite end of the plateau, searching for it, much in the manner that a setter crisscrosses 
a field in search of birds. His motorcycle, however, made a hell of a lot more noise than any dog. Near dusk, he 
came down а hillside toward the water and this time, the road did not disappear in the hard-packed sand of the 
beach, choosing, instead, to straighten and run parallel to it. Gratefully, he increased his speed and soon he saw 
in the distance the muddy outline of the city of Puerto Perdido, where he planned to spend the night. 

Centuries earlier, Puerto Perdido had been one of the busy seaports for the conquistadors, but gradually it had 


ONE GOOD TURN 


passing through the mexican town, he found friends, enemies and sarita—who was mucho woman 


yp" 
|, 


“| 
4 
E 
i 
* 


ILLUSTRATION BY GENE SZAFRAN 


PLAYBOY 


become so full of silt that the harbor 
today could service only the shallow- 
draft shrimp boats that brought in the 
vest, which provided the basic indus- 
try for the community. From here, ac- 
cording to the most unreliable road map, 
the road was paved all the way to La 
Paz, some 50 kilometers to the south. 
Tomorrow, he would drive to La Paz 
and there, within a few days, he and 
his motorcycle would board a cargo ship 
and return to the United States. 

It was dark by the time he entered the 
outskirts of Puerto Perdido. The streets 
were absurdly narrow for a town with so 
much open space around it. The stores 
had no windows, only doors, but no one 
need enter them to conduct business. 
The merchants stacked their wares on 
tables and on the sidewalk outside their 
stores for casy viewing by the possible 
customers who were thus forced to walk 
in the street. Devlan slowed his machine 
and the popping of the exhaust echoed 
loudly against the walls, causing the shop- 
pers and the strollers to turn toward him. 

He noticed a particularly fine speci- 
men of a woman approaching, hips sway- 
ing, breasts loose under her peasant 
blouse. She had the walk of a person 
trained to carry а load on her head. As 
he drew abreast of her, she returned his 
stare boldly, raised her eyebrows and 
provocatively thrust a hip in his direc- 
tion. He realized delightedly that she 
probably was a prostitute and, at the 
same time, that he had not had a woman 
since he started his wip more than a 
month earlier. 

Turning in his saddle for another 
look, he barely had time to notice that 
she, too, was looking over her shoulder 
before the front wheel of his bike t 
ed violently. Instinctively, he tightened 
his hold on the handle bars, but the 
reaction caused him to advance the hand 
throttle. The motorcycle roared and 
smashed into the high curb and, at the 
moment of impact, he was lifted from 
his saddle and thrown forward. He had a 
brief second of awareness that he was fly- 
ing toward a sidewalk stall full of serapes, 
rebozos, sombreros and huarachos before 
the world became a smothering black. 

He knew when he landed. There was 


a stinging on the palms of his hands as 
they slid on the cobblestones for a b 


icf 
instant before he rolled instinctively, like 
a tumbler, with the fall. The somersault 
was followed by a dull thudding blow 
against his head that stunned him, For a 
moment, he lay motionless where he had 
fallen. Then he became aware that he 
was blind and that he was having a 
considerable amount of difficulty in 
breathing. Yet he felt no pain. Far off in 
the distance, he heard a swelling cacoph- 
опу of voices. He could move his arms 
and his legs with no pain; nor was there 
any pain in his chest. Experimentally, he 


139 raised his arms slowly to his head, felt 


the rough texture of wool and realized 
that his head had become enveloped in a 
serape ог a терого. He pulled at the 
cloth but could not loosen it Then, 


carefully, he felt with his hands until he 
found an end and unwound it like a 
turban, As he slowly freed himself, the 


voices around him became louder; then, 
when he finally emerged and gulped in 
the fresh air, the voices stopped abruptly. 

He surrounded, At least 100 
brown-skinned, black-eyed faces of both 
sexes and all ages tightly pressed togeth- 
er stared at him, On not one of the faces 
could he detect the slightest expres 
sion. None showed sympathy or curios 
ity; but also, none showed any anger 
or hostility. The clothing stall was a 
shambles, garments strewn in all 
rections. There were no signs of anyone 
jured, which seemed incredible, con- 
sidering the crowded conditions of the 
street. His motorcycle had struck the 
corner of the stall that had collapsed. 
Apparently, he had flown through the 
stall headfirst, which was very lucky, he 
decided, as his head had picked up a 
sufficient number of serapes to act as a 
cushion when he rolled into the adobe 
ide of the building. He was lying now 
оп the sidewalk. Moving very slowly, he 
raised himself to a sitting position and 
leaned against the wall The crowd 
seemed to sigh and Devlan did likewise. 
lt was best to move very slowly. If some- 
one had been injured, he wanted no 
revengeful mob descending upon him. 
‘The sigh was a good sign that the crowd 
was not angry. 

"Thus far, no angry proprietor had ар- 
peared. The door to the shop was to his 
left and inside it was empty and this, too, 
was odd. A few feet beyond the shop door 
was a wroughtiron gate that barred the 
entrance to a shop garage and a patio. A 
few seconds after he noticed this, it was 
opened and an obese middle-aged man 
with a villainous mustache appeared, 
shrugged, glanced briefly at the wreck- 
age, then turned and pushed the gate 
wide open. He next walked over to the 
motorcycle, righted it, slipped the gear 
into neutral, then rapidly pushed it in- 
side the gate. Devlan. noticed that the 
front wheel wobbled slightly, but other- 
wise, the bike appeared to be undamaged. 

The gate swung shut with a loud 
dang, followed by the unmistakable 
sound of a heavy bolt sliding into its 
socket. Someone in the crowd, a woman, 
tittered softly. Then a small boy giggled. 
Devlan sighed deeply in relief. The 
crowd was not angry. He grinned, raised 

is hands waist-high with palms up, then 
shrugged. Several men in the crowd 
smiled. "Two or three boys swooped up 
some of the rebozos and fled as three 
women, who looked like criadas, and two 
men suddenly raced out of the shop, 
shouting angrily, and began to gather up 
the scattered. merchandise. The incident 


was finished. The crowd disappeared, 
moving along the street unhurriedly. No 
опе any longer paid attention to Devlan. 

For perhaps a couple of minutes, he 
remained against the wall, then slowly 
he stood up, moved around a busy 
criada, walked to the gate and looked 
between the bars. There was only a short 
driveway leading to a garage. His motor- 
cycle was nowhere to be seen. He went 
back to one of the men folding the 
serapes gathered by the criadas. 

"What happens?" he asked. 

“He has sent for the police, señor. If 
you are still here when he comes, then 
you will be arrested.” 

Devlan nodded. “There is insurance to 
pay for the damage,” he replied. “And 
also, there is the matter of my machine." 

‘The shopkeeper shrugged and contin- 
ued to fold the serapes. 

A quarter of an hour later, the police 
came. He came on foot, a young man, 
about Devlan's age, neatly dressed in а 
khaki uniform, with a gun in a shiny 


holster fastened high on his waist. He 
wore the pips of a captain 
"Buenos dias,” the captain said polite- 


ly, kicking aside a broken sombrero. He 
glanced cursorily around at the wreckage 
of the stall. 

"Buenos dias,” Devlan replied. 

“Do you have the necessary insur 
ance?” 

“St, señor.” 

‘The captain held out his hand. “May 
1 see the papers, please?” 

“They are in the saddlebags of my 
motorcycle," Devlan answered. He nod- 
ded with his head. “The machine was 
taken inside by a gentleman of many 
kilos. 

The captain nodded and went into 
the shop. A moment later, he returned 
and shrugged apologetically. "You will 
please come with me, señor.” Devlan 
sighed and walked with the captain 
around the splintered wreckage of the 
stall. Then he paused and looked down. 
Lying in the street was a short length of 
drainage pipe, not attached to anything. 
"The black skid mark of his could be 
seen against the hard clay. "You found 
the insurance papers?" Devlan asked. 

"The captain evaded the question. 
Puerto Perdido, we have a jeep, but it 
would not start. sa we must walk. You 
must accept my apologies.” 

“The insurance papers,” 
pressed, 

‘The captain touched him on the el- 
bow. “It was the business of Don Anto- 
nio Macias that your machine hit, señor. 
It is unfortunate.” The captain shrugged 
they strolled down the narrow street. 
He says he must keep your machine 
locked in his garage until you pay for 
the damage to his stali. He would not 
let me into his garage to ger the insurance 
papers.” 


n 


Devlan 


(continued on page 187) 


ing the elegonce ond 
of our Creative Menswear 
Collection is designer Tom Fallon’s 
grousing outfit—a loden cope and 
ponts, leather shirt ond felt hat. 


tume 
y 
Of 
ОГ ОД» 


FOR THE PAST SEVERAL YEARS, the 
Grand Ballroom in Manhattan's Plaza 
Hotel has served as the initial stop- 
off for a multicity presentation of 
PLAYBOY's Creative Menswear Interna- 
tional Designer Collection—a black- 
tie fashion show and dinner dance 
presided over by our Fashion Director, 
Robert L. Green. “In today’s world, 
fashion is art, and this collection may 
be viewed as the most comprehensive 
exhibition of contemporary creativ- 
ity іп (text concluded on page 181) 


Йот playboy's exclusive international collection—creative menswear by the world's top designers 


139 


140 


Mixing patien and color, 

Yves St. Laurent puts tweed 
knickers together with a madder- 
print shirt—ond tops that com- 
bination with a crocheted vest. 


Christian Dior uses a Shetland 
sweater knit tailored 

like tweed for his low-slung 
pants, sweater ond double- 
breasted cropped jacket. 


Donegol tweed provides the right 
material for Rupert Lycett-Green’s 
belted coot with matching vest 
ond pants. A coshmere turtle- 
neck completes the suit. 


Poris designer Antonio Cerruti 
offers o belted flonnel jump svit 
with o zip front turtleneck 
covered by o midi-length 

suede outercoat. 


London's Feter Golding 
gives the classic dufiel coot 

© longer look in this 
tweed-with-fringe model worn 
over o knit shirt svit. 


aa 


142 


6 


Ww ous 


Roland Meledandri creates a 
stylish dinner suit from 
brocaded tapestry fabric. A 
matching vest and velvet outer- 
coat are nat shown. 


Superb construction, such as 
roised rope shoulders, points 
up Italion designer Latrico's 
attention ta detail in this wool 
crepe suit with matching coat. 


Turning the fashion world topsy- With equal flair, Stephen Bur- 


turvy, Peter Max cames up rows combines a cottan shirt 
with a bald chenille knit jump ond single-breasted caat with 
suit punctuated by back and leg — super-wide-legged button- 
inserts and appliquéd star. through Dutch-bay pants, 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY FRANCESCO SCAVULLO 


PLAYBOY 


144 


THE VERY RICH continued тол page 119) 


for my bum ticker and the fact that I'm 
supposed to be on sick leave. 

“Nuh-uh,” said a young man named 
Martin Dugan, "the resort management 


would never let you, The place is as 
secret as the grave—no localion ever 


given out.’ He stopped to smile. 
know because I tried to bribe one Pa 
Am captain, two travel agents, a profes 
sor of Latin-American geography and 
an ex-CIA man. Nobody could tell me 
where it might be.” Dugen and the girl 
he was with—Laurie—were the real 
people that all those fashion models arc 
trying so hard to look like. He was re- 
laxed and handsome without any effor 
She was dcliciouslooking, doc-eyed, big 
ted. without any props. i 
I'd sooner be in my little Piper 
Cherokee, just setting down on some 
lake in the Adirondacks. Wouldn't you, 
baby? 
‘The Adirondacks stink,” said Laurie. 
“I want to find the lost world of El 
Dorado and the pleasure dome of Kubla 
Khan.” She smiled and took his hand. 
Mrs. Désirée Brooks looked at them 
through a misty glass of purest Lamp 
lighter with just a breath of Noilly 
Prat around it. “One day,” she said, “1 
calculate one day, right?" Mrs. Brooks 
looked to be in her mid-30s and she was 
very pretty, but nobody noticed that—or 
not first off, at any rate. What you felt 
immediately was a certain air that 
scemed to whisper something about 
great trust funds, vast safe-deposit vaults 
full of tax-free mu als and big cor- 
porate money pumps that had the name 
Brooks the board of 
'ectors, “Married just one day? 
Dugan smiled and admitted it 
"But how did you pin it down to the 
exact time?" Laurie asked. “You're 
uncanny: 
Mrs. Brooks took a long , then 
lowered the glass. “I should know. In 
ict, І should change my name to Hope 
because I've uiumphed over experience 
so many times. My dear, there is always 
a first time when one of the bridal 
couple shall remark that the other's fa- 
vorite thing in life actually stinks. This 
opinion has never been revealed before 
and boy and girl convulsively hold 
nds, shocked. After the first day, they 
begin to get hardened to that kind of 
revelation. God, these martinis are 
beautiful” 
The pretty stew: 
a signal when 
ame at once wi 


somewhere on 


n a Pucci kncw 
heard it, so she 
h a new pitcher of icy 
martinis. Woodrough took advantage of 
this litle refueling ceremony and 
slipped. into the empty chair next to 
Désirée. "From your learned observ: 
tions, I judge that you are a marriage 
counselor by profession, and I want to 


dess i 


she 


ask your expert advice. I have a prob- 
lem that's so intimate I'll have to whis- 
ied. I am all, all 


Mrs. Brooks seemed to be amused by 

this approach. "My advice to you, then, 
: Don't blow it. If you're lucky, you 
n stay that way till you die.” 

They clinked glasses solemnly. “Io 

the next three weeks, then,” Woodrough 

said, looking into her eyes. 

It's got to be something really spe- 
cial" Dugan was saying, "to have the 
nerve to charge three thousand bucks a 
week. Even Frenchman's Cove charges 
only $1300 per couple." He poked at 
the shrouded window at Lauric’s shoul- 
der. “It's got to be the Caribbean—not 
one of the big vulgar places but some 
litle jewel of an island they can keep 
top secret. 

Al Hunsicker slowly withdrew from. 
his pocket a small compass and placed it 
on the table. “I like to know where I'm 
at" he stated Папу. All craned. forward 
to scc, a conspiratorial gleam їп every 
сус. “We've been airborne for three 
hours, forty minutes. We're headed 
south-southwest from New York City. 
The Caribbean is due south of New 
York. No, my friend. We're over Central 
America right now. | say we land in 
Guatemala or Honduras, probably on the 
Pacific coast and probably in the next 
half hour.” 

^E know that country,” Dugan said, 
le drunken edge. “There's not 
a spot on either coast where you could 
put what they advertise. In fact, I've got 
a thousand stalwart men and true who 
say it won't be anywhere in Central 
America. 

You've got your bet," Al said, hold- 
ing out his hand, which Martin took. 
We'll know in а few minutes. 

"How will you know?" Laurie Dugan 
asked. "Maybe Im dumb, but will they 
tell us where we are 

“They won't tell us” Al declared im- 
portantly, “but I'll know soon enough.” 

The plane tilted toward the earth and 
its speed diminished; in а few moments, 
they heard the flaps go down and then the 
wheels. Expectancy was on every face 
except Martin's, which was dark, and 
Laurie's, which was taking its cue. from 
his. There was a slight screech as the 
wheels touched and they were rolling. 
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to 
aradise Plage" and there was, indeed, 
a beach of white sand, within sight of 
the landing strip. But they were not on 
the sca, as all had expected. They were 
on a lake, in a valley under towering 
mountains, some of which glowed at 
their peaks and cast forth smoke. The 
man who had greeted them was an ele- 


gant litle Latin with a tiny mustache 
and peaked eyebrow 

He said, as they were walking to the 
limousine, “I am Claudio Montenegro. 
your host. Please don't trouble to in- 
troduce yourselves—you see, I know who 
all of you are and have been expecting 
you." 

Who am 1?” young Dugan asked. 

“You, sir, are Mr. Dugi with your 
charming bride of one day. 

"How do you know that? 

“Sir, Paradise Plage makes a point of 
knowing as much as it can about each 
of its guests, to be able to give them its 
personalized and superb service. Thus, 
we have been able to reserve for you the 
bridal 

They stowed themselves in the car 
The plane that had brought them took 
off and flew away. “I am afraid you will 
find Paradise Plage rather empty this 
evening,” Montenegro said. “The fact 
you are the first guests of the new 
season, But we expect twenty-four to- 
morrow and another forty or so within 
the next week. All of them precisely 
such charming and discriminating per- 
sons as yourselves. 

They drew up before the main build- 
ing, a gleaming, gently curving facade 
facing the lake, and were shown to their 
oms by respectful Indian servants 
very. There they found champagne 
an ice Beluga. 
re richly appointed and in 
each of them, certain events and thoughts 
now took place. 

Désirée Brooks stripped and took a 
long, leisurely bath. Later, in a robe, 
she sat at her window, smoked several 
cigarcttcs and contemplated the spectacu- 
lar prospect of volcanoes and setting sun. 
Dinner was not for another hour, but she 
touched neither the caviar nor the cham- 
pagne. She was 40 years old now, though 
she looked 35. She was here because she 
was on the prowl for another husband. 
With all the money she could want and 
with all the world to use it їп, she found 
herself obsessed with a single interest— 
she genuinely liked a honeymoon 
riage. The charm wore off, always, in a 
year or two and she would again find 
herself divorced. depressed, lonely. She 
wondered if Woodrough could have been 
telling the truth about being single. 
Probably not, even though he hadn't 
brought a wife along. She liked that 
fresh, floriddfaced, ex-tennischampion, 
moneyed look about him. He seemed 
charming enough. 

Pete Woodrough knew that it was the 
thing to do to take a bath, but he did 
not. Instead, he cast himself on the 
caviar and made almost a meal of it: He 
was going to get his money's worth. The 
deal was $8000 a weck and that included 
absolutely anything you could dream 

(continued on page 195) 


te 


PLAYBOY 


on a Blanket—that kind of jive. By the 
time Dave got himself a burger and 
coffee at one of the stands, he knew the 
score. A big fat zero. 

But not for Medley, Oklahoma—Pop. 
1134. The whole damn town was here 
tonight and probably every red-neck for 
miles around, shuffling and shoving along 
the carny street. Dave had to do a little 
shuffling and shoving himself to get 
through to the far end of the midway. 

And it was there, on the far end, that 
he saw the small red tent with the tiny 
platform before it. Hanging limp and 
listless in the still air, a sun-bleached 
banner proclaimed the wonders within. 
CAPTAIN RYDER'S HOLLYWOOD JUNGLE SA- 
FARI, the banner read. 

What a Hollywood jungle safari was, 
Dave didn't know. And the wrinkled 
doth posters lining the sides of the en- 
trance weren't much help. A picture of 
a guy in an explorer's outfit, tangling 
with a big snake wrapped around his 
neck—the same joker prying open the 
jaws of a crocodile—another drawing 
Showing him wrestling a lion. The last 
poster showed the guy standing next to 
a cage; inside the cage was a black furry 
question mark, way over six feet Пір) 
The lettering underneath was black and 
furry, 100. WHAT 15 IT? SEE THE MIGHTY 
MONARCH OF THE JUNGLE ALIVE ON THE 
INSIDE! 

Dave didn't know what it was and he 
cared less. But he'd been bumping along 
those corduroy roads all day and he was 
wasted and the noise from the amplifiers 
here on the midway hurt his ears, At 
least there was some kind of a show 
going on inside, and when he saw the 
open space gaping between the canvas 
and the ground at the corner of the 
tent, he stooped and slid under. 

The tent was a canvas oven. 

Dave could smell oil in the air; on 
hot summer nights in Oklahoma, you 
can always smell it. And the crowd in 
here smelled worse. Bad enough that he 
was thumbing his way through and 
couldn't take a bath, but what was their 
excuse? 

The crowd huddled around the base 
of а portable wooden stage at the rear 
of the tent, listening to a pitch from 
Captain Ryder. At least that's who Dave 
figured it was, even though the character 
with the phony safari hat and the dirty 
white riding breeches didn't look much 
like his pictures on the banners. He was 
handing out a spiel in one of those 
hoarse, gravelly voices that carry without 
a microphone—some hype about being а 
Hollywood stunt man and African ex- 
plorer—and there wasn't a snake or a 
crocodile or a lion anywhere in sight. 

‘The two-bit hamburger began churn- 
ing up a storm in Dave's guts, and 
between the body heat and the smells, 
he'd just about had it in here. He start- 


146 ed to turn and push his way through the 


mob when the тап up on the stage 
thumped the boards with his cane. 

“And now friends, if you'll gather 
round a little closer —— 

"The crowd swept forward in unison, 
like the straws of a giant broom, and 
Dave found himself pressed right up 
against the edge of the square-shaped, 
canvascovered pit beside the end of the 
platform. He couldn't get through now 
if he tried; all the rednecks were 
bunched together, waiting. 

Dave waited, too, but he stopped lis- 
tening to the voice on the platform. All 
that jive about Darkest Africa was a 
puton. Maybe these clowns went for it, 
but Dave wasn't buying a word. He just 
hoped the old guy would hurry and get 
the show over with; all he wanted now 
was out of here. 

Captain Ryder tapped the canvas 
covering of the pit with his cane and his 
harsh tones rose. The heat made Dave 
yawn loudly, but some of the phrases 
filtered through. 

About to see here tonight the 


worlds most ferocious monster—cap- 
tured at deadly peril to life and 
limb” 


Dave shook his head. He knew what 
was in the pit. Some crummy animal 
picked up secondhand from a circus, 
maybe а scroungy hyena. And two to 
one it wasn't even alive, just stuffed. Big 
deal. 

Captain Ryder lifted the canvas cover 
and pulled it back behind the pit. He 
flourished his cane. 

“Behold—the lord of the jungle!” 

The crowd pressed, pushed, peered 
over the rim of the pit. 

"The crowd gasped. 

And Dave, pressing and peering with 
the rest, stared at the creature blinking 
up at him from the bottom of the pit. 

It was a live, fullgrown gorilla. 

"The monster squatted on a heap of 
straw, its huge forearms secured to steel 
stakes by lengths of heavy chain. It 
gaped upward at the rim of faces, mov- 
ing its great, gray head slowly from side 
to side, the yellow-fanged mouth open 
and the massive jaws set in a vacant 
grimace. Only the litle rheumy, red- 
rimmed eyes held a hint of expression— 
enough to tell Dave, who had never seen 
a gorilla before, that this animal was 
sick. 

The matied straw at the base of the 
pit was wet and stained; in one corner, 
a battered tin plate rested untouched, 
its surface covered with a soggy slop of 
shredded carrots, okra and turnip greens 
floating in an oily scum beneath a cloud 
of buzzing blowflies. In the stifling heat 
of the tent, the acrid odor rising from 
the pit was almost overpowering. 

Dave felt his stomach muscles con- 
strict. He tried to force his attention 
back to Captain Ryder. The old guy was 
stepping offstage now, moving behind 


the pit and reaching down into it with 
his cane. 

“Nothing to be afraid of. folks; as you 
can see, he's perfectly harmless, aren't 
you, Bobo?” 

The gorilla whimpered, huddling back 
against the soiled straw to avoid the 
prodding cane. But the chains confined 
movement and the cane began to dig 
its tip into the beast's shaggy shoulders. 
‘And now Bobo's going to do a little 
dance for the folks—right?" The gorilla 
whimpered again, but the point of the 
cane jabbed deeply and the rasping 
voice firmed in command. 

“Up, Bobo—up!" 

‘The creature lumbered to its haunches. 
As the cane rose and fell about its shoul- 
ders, the bulky body began to sway. The 
crowd oohed and aahed and snickered. 

“That's it! Dance for the people, 
Bobo—dance!” 

A swarm of flies spiraled upward to 
swirl about the furry form shimmering 
in the heat. Dave saw the sick beast 
shuffle, moving to and fro, to and fro. 
"Then his stomach was moving in respon- 
sive rhythm and he had to shut his eyes 
as he turned and fought his way blindly 
through the murmuring mob. 

“Hey—watch where the hell ya goin’, 
fella.” 

Dave got out of the tent just in time. 


Getting rid of the hamburger helped 
and getting away from the carnival 
grounds helped, too, but not enough. As 
Dave moved up the road between the 
open fields, he felt the nausea return. 
The oily air made him dizzy and he 
knew he'd have to lie down for a min- 
ute. He dropped into the ditch beside 
the road, shielded behind a clump of 
weeds, and closed his eyes to stop the 
whirling sensation. Only for a minute— 

The dizziness went away, but behind 
his dosed eyes he could see the 
gorilla, still see the expressionless face 
and the alltoo-expressive eyes, Eyes 
peering up from the pile of dirty straw 
in the pit, eyes clouding with pain and 
hopeless resignation as the chains clanked 
and the cane flicked across the hairy 
shoulders. 

Ought to be a law, Dave thought. 
There must be some kind of law to stop 
it, treating a poor dumb ai al like 
that. And the old guy, Captain Ryder— 
there ought to be a law for an animal 
like him, too. 

Ah, to hell with it. Better shut it out 
of his mind now, get some rest. Another 
couple of minutes wouldn't hurt. 

It was the thunder that finally woke 
him. The thunder jerked him into aware- 
ness, and then he felt the warm, heavy 
drops pelting his head and face. 

Dave rose and the wind swept over 
him, whistling across the fields, He must 
have been asleep for hours, because 

(continued on page 254) 


“You didn't think the truck drivers all stop here for 
this slop, did you?” 


147 


148 


LANGUAGE 15 A CASUALTY of the 20th Century. 
All-purpose obscenity and mindless slang have 
become the favorite forms of verbal communica- 
tion among the young; the bland terminology of 
bureaucracies has worked itself into the style of 
their elders; and political rhetoric, Nixonese, has 
never been drearier. A favorite cliché of the 
times is “those are only words, they don’t mean 
anything.” ‘The keepers of the language, the 
poets, seem to be in hiding. There are those who 
insist that poetry isn't dead, that it is as strong as 
ever, that the Wordsworths of our time have 
been the Beatles and Bob Dylan. Such assertions 
prove only that precision in language is a dusty 
virtue; Dylan and the Beatles obviously have 
written songs. There may be something poctic in 
those songs, but what is the real measure? Who 
writes poems? 

James Dickey won the National Book Award 
for his volume Buckdancer's Choice and shares 
with Robert Lowell the distinction of being one 
of the major American poets of his generation. 
But Dickey is clearly not a composite of those 
ambiguous qualities people associate with poets, 
while Lowell, thin, slightly frail, pinched and 
looking out on the world through a wounded- 
looking countenance, is perfect—just the right 
amount of dignity, scorn, hurt and withdrawal. 
Dickey, 48 years old, six feet, three inches and 
215 pounds, his sandy, thinning hair brushed 
down and across his wide forchead and his impa- 
tient, heavy hands always moving in gesture or 
pure restlessness, looks like a football coach. But 
he is a poet; the football coach, Paul Dietzel —for 
merly of Louisiana State and Army, currently ас 
the University of South Carolina—is building a 
house across the street from Dickey's. When he 
moves in, he and the poet will have a lot to talk 
about, because the poet was a football player once 
and there is a good measure of it left in him. 

In fact, when Dickey entered Clemson Univer- 
sity in 1942, football was his passion. He had 
starred as a high school halfback in Atlanta, his 
home town, and gone on to college to play more 
ball and study animal husbandry, wanting vague- 
ly to be a veterinarian. He played well as a 
freshman, then left school for the War, joining the 
Army Air Corps, where his exceptional eyesight 
singled him out for training in night fighters. 

Dickey came to literature during the War. On 


personality By GEOFFREY NORMAN 


THE 
STUFF 
OF POETRY: 


alittle guitar picking, fast-water 
canoeing, booze, archery and 


weight lifting—if you happen to be 
james dickey in search of deliverance 


bleached-coral airstrips, he filled the hours of 
waiting by reading books from the Special Serv- 
ices libraries. As he read, he began to formulate a 
sort of aesthetic that united writers such as 
Faulkner, Thomas Wolfe and James Agee, inter- 
preting them as failed poets who were using 
prose for poetic effect. In damp tents, he read 
poetry seriously for the first time, going through 
anthologies, finding what he liked and trying to 
work out a theory to explain his preferences. 
And he started writing a little poetry himself. 

"The War ended and Dickey, with 100 combat 
missions flown through MacArthur's South Расі 
ic campaign, the Philippines and Okinawa bat 
des and the final B-29 raids over Japan, went 
home to go to school. The War is still with him 
25 years later, in some of his best poetry: 


And some technical-minded stranger with 
my hands 

Is sitting in a glass treasure-hole of blue 
light, 

Having potential fire under the undeodor- 
ized arms 

Of his wings, on thin bomb-shackles, 

The “tear-drop-shaped” | 300-gallon 
tanks 

Filled with napalm and gasoline. 


drop- 


He talks about it. Not the actual combat but 
the personal upheaval of going from his com- 
fortable, predictable life into the chaos of military 
service, aviation and, (continued on page 230) 


PAINTING BY HERB DAVIDSON 


THE BUNNIES OF NEW YORK 


a words-and-pictures toast to manhattan’s glamorous hutch honeys 


“ти TOWN'S $O BIG," according to the 
old saw, "they had to name it twice— 
New York, New York." Actually, in the 
545 years since Peter Minuit traded $2: 
worth of trinkets to the Manhattan In 
dians in exchange for their island real 
esate, the city has been named and 
nicknamed many times—formally and 
informally, affectionately and derisively. 
Starting out as New Amsterdam, it be 

ne New York, New Orange, then New 
York again; more recently, it's been 
called Big Town, The Big Apple, Fun 
City. It’s also been called ungovernable 
and uninhabitable. Befitting its stature 

s our largest metropolis, New York is 

Iso the nation’s most controversial city. 
You either love it or you hate it. 

The Bunnies of New York love it 
and, if anyone cin turn it into Fun 
City, it’s this lively group of 90 young 
beauties who staff the Playboy Club at 
5 East 59th Street, just around the corner 
from Fifth Avenue. Their infectious en- 
thusiasm permeates the seven-story hutch 
and their devotion to the city isn’t just a 


professional pose or a passing fancy 
More than half of New York's cottontail 
contingent hails from within a 100-mile 
radius of the Club—nearly a third born 
within New York City itself. But even 
those who come from farther пеіа— 
Norwegian Мана Andersen, Filipina 
Kelia rrillo, Austrian Maric Henn, 
German Anya Sonders, Jamaican Leigh 
Jefferson and Briton Pauline Nicholls, 
as well as dozens of girls from distant 
Southern and Western states, Puerto Rico 
and Hawaii—have come to Manhattan 
for the same reason the natives stay 
there: It's the place to be 

"It would take a bulldozer to get me 
out of New York,” says Panama-born 
Barbaree Earl, whose parents named her 
—appropriately—for the hauntingly love- 
ly old sea chanty High Barbaree. She 
sold cars on St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin 
Islands before coming to New York, 
where she had planned to become a 
Trans World Airlines stewardess: "I took 
this job as a Bunny to kill a month and a 
half before (text continued on page 


Typical af New York’s talented crap of largely home-grown Bunnies are Broaklyn’s Karen 
Ferber (left) and Manhattan's Beverly Taylor (below). Karen aspires to become an actress 
and Beverly wants to be "a great ger"; both spend off-duty hours rehearsing. 


Playmate-Bunny Debbie Ellison (сЬоуе) adarned our gatefold in September 1970. In 
addition to Bunny-happing in New York, Debbie studies ballet and creative writing 
Public-relations work appeals to Waren Smith (below left, welcoming keyholders to the 
Manhattan hutch). Born in Portlond, Oregon, Waren lived in Japan and California 
before moving east with her family; naw she attends Mantclair State College in New 
Jersey. Gina Byrams (right), 1970 Bunny of the Year far the entire Playboy empire, 


began her cottontail career in Baltimore but recently transferred to the New York 
Club. An enthusiastic sparts fan, Gina enjoys football, basketball, automobile racing 
and riding; for indoor amusement, she frequently tries her hand at costume design 


The New York Playboy Club afforded quite a change of pace for Bunny Anita Jabbour (above left), wha came ta the hutch fresh from duties 
оз a staff nurse at New Yark Hospital. Of Spanish-Lebanese extraction, Anita is a free-lance model and a professional vacalist. The chilled 
cottontail above right is Loren, а former opera student who now leans toward gentle ballads; "I've written some songs, toa, but none hos 
been recorded yet." Leipzig, Germany's gift to the Club is Gisela Moseman, below left and right; the helping hands are Ricki Shopiro's. 


Miss April 1970, Playmate-Bunny Barbara Hillary (above), is an attractive Club 
asset whose curvaceous exterior concecls a practical streak: She’s soving her 
money to invest in real estate. Ex-stewardess Vikki Gatling, below, is currently re- 
hearsing far a role in a futuristic film to be shot an location in New York City. 


Expert surfer Suzi Mitchell (abave) spent nine months in 
Hawaii training far on international surfing meet at 
Makaka Beach; she placed as a finalist. Since moving to 
New York, she’s become interested in flying and intends 
somedoy to be a flight instructor. Judy Juterbock (be- 
low), o minister's daughter from Michigan and farmer 
student at Detroit's Society of Arts ond Crafts, is working 
to establish herself as a model in Fun City—and so is 
Inga Whealtan, the cyclist ot left. A tronsplanted Flo- 
ridion—born and raised in Tempa—inga hes called 
Manhattan home for the past two ond a half years. 


Aspiring actress Candice Bajada (above) bears the same first name as her ideal 
—Candice Bergen. “She's totally honest and never phony,” says Bunny Candice. 
Ai the Club, Candice works in the checkraom ond Gift Shop; afternaons 
off cre likely to be spent painting water colors or cycling in Central Park. 155 


A former medical assistant is Monique Murphy (above), one of several hutch honeys who 
have come to Manhattan fram Puerto Rico. Monique has her sights set on becoming a maga- 

cover girl, then having “six children and twelve servants.” Playmate Helena Antonaccio 
(below) enlivened our June 1969 issue with her adventures as a new Bunny in training. 


“1 could never work in on office; it’s too confining,” says Shari Marcell (lefi). Playboy keyholders applaud her choice of Bunnydom over 
business. An aspiring actress is Dee Levin, ot left above, getting an assist from fellow cottontail Carmel Atwell, Dee did everything from 


scrubbing floors to understudying the stars during a year's theatrical apprenticeship in her native Baltimore before tackling the big city. 


Carmel, a professional dancer, and droma student Janice Shilinsky (below) share Dee's footlight ambitions; Janice also writes poetry. 


Playbay is a family affair far Leni Campbell (above), whose mather is the seam- 
stress at the Boston hutch. Before joining the cottontail crew, Leni spent six 
years as a telephone-company supervisor. Madeling a sari from her collection (be- 
low) is Tanya Mohammed, who's saving up for a trip to her parents’ native India. 


A transferee from the Chicago Club, Lee Муга 
(above) worked as a solesgirl in Marshall Field's and 
studied art for two years at Wester Illinois University 
in Macomb before donning her Bunny collor and 
cuffs. Eventually, she plans ta enter the teaching field. 


Another ex-Chicagoan, Emma Patterson, calls guests 
to the living Кости breakfast buffet (above). Emma 
finds New York living expensive, but Manhattan key- 
holders are generous tippers, she soys: “I can easily 
earn $200 in just three days’ work here.” Next step 
for Emma will be studies in hotel management; then, 
she hopes, an administrotive job ct Playboy’: new 
Great Gorge, New Jersey, resort now under con- 
struction. Bunny Diane Richardson, swinging with the 
Club bect, below, hails from Georgia—where she wos 
graduated from Tift College in Forsyth. “| love 
exploring New York City on my own,” says Dione. 
Her favorite discoveries: the Sheep Meodow in Cen- 
trol Park ond the Stolen Island Ferry, the fare of 
which emozes her. "Where else can you get such а 
bargoin for a nickel?” she asks. Dione intends to 
return to school for a master's degree in psychology. 


Nikki Minick (below), another Georgia peach, worked os a veterinarian's assistant 
before jaining Playboy last saring. Her father is о career Army mon, but Nikki 
idolizes ex-Beatle John Lennon for his pacifist leanings. "We're oll entirely different 


in our outlook on life,” she soys of her family, “yet, we have remained very close.” 


For Dee Saffold (obove left), one of the greatest things obout New York 


ts obundonce of museums. An omoteur ortist ("I dabble in oils"), 
Dee odmits o preference for works in the 18th Century manner—her toste perhaps influenced by her two yeors at the College of William 

msburg. Jody Irusholmi (above right) pursues о somewhot more strenuous hobby: korate. Brigitte Gartenberg 
(below left), а Czechoslovokian contribution to the New York Bunny brigode, keeps in shope—beoutifully—with ice skating ond tennis. 


and Mory in historic Wi 


= 


“1 guess I'l always be an outdoor girl.“ says Dianne Hall, at left, practicing park-bench 
ecrobatics, Emily Brown, at ће Club's Living Room buffet above, is a stay-at-home who 
writes fairy tales. Pam Powers (below) enjoys both leisurely and lively diversions, among 
them yoga, knitting, ballet, studying classical Greek and astrology—and sky diving, 


/\ [OV Ж 


VARGAS GIRL 


“Male supremacy 


is all right—but 


I favor a 


different position.” 


the queen’s birthday 


Goon, like a poisonous fog, hung in the 
golden rooms of the palace and all gaiety 
was gone. The lovely ladies in waiting 
wore their most somber dresses and went 
about their duties in silence; the clever 
poets kept their epigrams to themselves; 
the courtiers forgot their usual flattery 
and snarled at the servants instead; the 
officials of the kingdom put on their 
most dour faces; Septimus Pandarus, the 
grand chamberlain, sat in his study and 
drank a great deal of brandy. All of this 
because it was the queen's birthday. 

Tt was not an ordinary birthday but 
that dread 30th anniversary, when youth 
suddenly vanishes and beautiful girls 
turn into raddled dowagers at the stroke 
of midnight—or so thought her majesty 
Queen. Cymbelina, ruler of Orchis and 
the Seven Isles. She had been storming 
and weeping in her bedroom all day, 

For the past ten years, the queen had 
led a wanton, gay and splendidly frivo- 
lous life, ever since her husband, the 
king, had been regrettably destroyed by 
the explosion of one of his own cannon 
while attempting to reduce the castle of 
a rebellious baron. She had been flat- 
tered and wooed by 100 noble or prince- 
ly lovers; she had grown bored with 
every trick of lust, including the most 
surprising Oriental inventions. Her beauty 
had raised the tent pole of every man who 
had come within eyeshor of her as long 
as she could remember. And. now it was 
all over. She had grown old. 

At last she sent for Pandarus, who 
came fearfully into her chamber and 
bowed to the floor. 

"Yesterday I was lovely and adored,” 
she said, “and now look at me! 

With some vepidation, he raised his 
eyes. “Your Majesty has not changed at 
all. You are still the most enchanting 
lady in the kingdom," said Pandarus 
truthfull 
In that case,” the queen said in a 
bitter voice, "why is it that men no 
longer undress me with their cyes? Now- 
adays, why are there no looks of lust, 
like burning glasses, directed at me? 
Why have strong men ceased to tremble 
with the wish to overpower me as I walk 
by? Why, indeed?" 

“You i things, Pandarus 
shakily, trying to look at the queen with 
а sex-mad expression. 

"Stop making those hideous faces and 
answer the question,” said Cymbelina. 
“You know that practically every peasant 
girl with a round bottom апа pert 
breasts gets raped with some regularity, 

nd yct 1, who was once so glorious, 
seldom get even an indecent proposa 
She began to weep again. 

“Please, your Majesty, give me five 
minutes and I'll try to th 
Pandarus stammered. Ас 


said 


the 


that, 
queen's sobbing broke into a scream of 
rage and she threw a golden vase at his 


head. The grand chamberlain accepted 


from a 19th Century French feuilleton 


that as a sign the interview was over. 

Back in his study, he ordered another 
Тоше of brandy. "So the queen has 
never been raped?" he thought. Of 
course, it had never been 
Now, it occurred to him, Queen Cy 
lina was in the midst of a hysterical 
ewell to her youth—and her greatest 
regret was that she had missed out on 
one of life's most exhilarating experi- 
ences, that tender moment when the 
aboriginal hunter impales his prey. It 
sounded fairly silly to Pandarus. 

But then, grand chamberlains are used 
to the crotchets of queens. They are also 
used to providing ingenious solutions to 
imagined problems, Pandarus sent at 
once for a certain royal guardsman 
whom he had often remarked on duty in 
the royal park at the base of an eques- 
tian statue of the late king. He assumed 
that this young man had been given a 
post that would be unlikely to tax his 
intelligence. 

He was a fine beef of a boy, however, 
well over six feet tall, with a great set of 
muscles, curly golden hair above а strong 
handsome face and a mind unpolluted 
by ideas. He anived, looking like Her 
cules in the green and white guards’ 
colors, clicked his heels and stood at 
attention. 

“Listen carefully, my lad," Pand: 
said, “and follow my directions. Outside 
my door is a corridor. You will follow it 
until you reach a flight of stairs. You will 
then mount those stairs, turn to your 
right and proceed some thirty paces until 
you come to a rather heavily gilt door on 
which there is the royal coat of arms. 
You will open the door and in the room 
you will find a woman, Is all of that 
perfectly clear?” 

Sir!" said the guardsman. 
“You will thereupon s 


ze and rape 


ILLUSTRATION BY BRAD HOLLAND 


Ribald Classic 


that woman, no matter what she says or 
how she resists. Understood? Let us syn- 
chronize our watches. It is now 2302. At 
2305, you will be at the staircase. At 2310, 
you will enter the room. At 2312, you 
will begin to rape the female subject. At 
2827, you will complete said rape and 
get back into uniform. At 2340, report 
here to me. About, face. Forward, march." 

Pandarus then went to a wall, pressed 
a bution, which caused a panel to slide 
back, went through this opening, climbed 
а small circular stairway, walked along 
dark passage and finally came to the con- 
cealed peephole that gave an excellent 
view of the queen's bedroom. 

The queen, in her nightdres, was 
lying on a sofa; the door was just open- 
ing on the manly figure of the guards- 
man. Pandarus watched as he came into 
the room, closed the door behind him 
and stood at attention with a perfect 
heel click. 

"Who are you? What's this?" said the 
queen. 

"Private Maximus, reporting as or- 
dered, my lady. Mission is to conduct a 
rape. 

The queen looked astonished. Panda- 
rus groaned to himself and beat his 
head. Finally, the queen said in a rather 
cutting tone, “Well, if that’s so, what are 
you waiting for?” 

“Beg pardon, miss," said the guardsman 
stiffly, “but I'd appreciate your explain- 
ing how I'm to cairy out instructions. I 
think they balled up somewhere in Н. Q. 
when they cut the orders. 1 know what 
rape is—it's that little mustardy herb Dad 
used to feed the pigs on. I don't know 
what it's got to do with you.” 

The queen laughed. But she soon 
stopped laughing when she took a better 
look at the soldier and saw his fine 
physique, the muscles swelling under his 
tight breeches. “This!” she cried, cast- 
ing off her nightdress and throwing her- 
self, quite naked, the astonished 
guardsman. 

Pandarus, feeling that everything had 
begun to go wrong, withdrew from his 
peephole—which he was alv 
to use for surveillance and security pur 
poses, rather than for spectator sports. 

At 2310, the guardsman reported to 
Pandarus, but he was too confused and 
inarticulate to give a clear account of the 
action. 

At 2400, the queen sent for her cham- 
berlain, She was calm, fully dressed and 
she had a contented smile. "I have just 
had an instructive experience, dear Pan- 
darus, “I have learned that 
before thirty, a woman may attract, but 
after that age, a queen must dominate. 
From now on, I intend to throw my- 
self into the affairs of the country with 
vigor. One cannot simply lie back and 
accept what happens to come, can one? I 
ave begun, in a small way, with the 


ays careful 


she said. 


ary.” —Retold by Paul Tabori EB. 163 


PLAYBOY 


THE TRIP Continued from page 96) 


she had made an impression. She picked 
up her paper bag and out of it she 
pulled a tin of biscuits and put it on his 
desk. 


have brought you a present,” she 
said, “with the gratitude of the women 
of Guatemala. It is Scottish shortbread. 
From Guatemala.” She smiled proudly at 
the oddity of this fact. “Open it." 

hall I open it? Yes. I will. Let me 
ofer you one," he humored her. 

“No,” she said. “They are for you 

Murder. Biscuits, he thought. She is 
mad. 

The editor opened the tin and took 
ош a biscuit and began to nibble. She 
watched his teeth as he bit; once more, 
she was memorizing what she saw. She 
was keeping watch. Just as he was going 
10 get up and make a last speech to her, 
she put out a short arm and pointed to 
his portrait. 

"That is not you,” she pronounced. 
Having made him cat, she was now in 
«ommand of him. 

“But it is,” he said. “I think it is very 
good. Don't you?” 

“It is wrong,” she said. 

"Oh." He was offended, 
brought out his saintly look. 

“There is something missing,” she said. 
"Now I have seen you, I know what 
it 


and that 


She got up. 

“Don't go,” said the editor. "Tell me 
what you miss. It was in the Academy, 
you know.” 

He was beginning to think now she 
was a fortuneteller. 

"D am а poet," she said. "I s 
in you. I see a leader. That picture is the 
picture of two people, not one. But you 

опе man. You are a god to us. You 
understand that apartheid exists for 
‘women, too.” 
She held out her prophetic hand. The 
editor switched to his wise, pagan look 
Xd his sunny hand held hers. 

“May I come to your lecture this eve- 
ning?” she said. "I asked your secretary 
about it.” 

"Of course, of course, of course. Yes, 
yes, yes" he said and walked with her to 
the outer door of the office. There they 
said goodbye. He watched her march away 
slowly, on her thick legs, like troops. 

The editor went into the secretary's 
room. The girl was putting the cover on 
her typewriter. 

“Do you know,” he said, “that wom- 
an’s father killed her mother because she 
dyed her hair?” 

“She told me. You copped something 
there, d you? What d'you bet me 
she doesn't turn up in Copenhagen to- 
morrow two rows from the front?” the 
rude girl said. 


She was wrong. Miss Mendoza was in 


164 the fifth row at Copenhagen. He had not 


noticed her at the London talk and he 
certainly had not seen her on the plane; 
but there she was, looking squat, simple 
and tarry among the tall fair Danes. The 
editor had been puzzled to know who 
she was—for he had a poor visual memo- 
ry; for him, people's faces merged into 
the general plain lineaments of the con- 
vinced. But he did become aware of her 
when he got down from the platform 
and when she stood, well planted, on the 
edge of the small circle where white 
head was bobbing to people who were 
asking him questions. She listened, turn- 
ing her head possessively and critically to 
each questioner, and then to him, ex- 
pectantly. She nodded with reproof at 
the questioner, when he replied. She 
owned him. Closer and closer she came, 
into the inner circle. He was aware of a 
smell like nutmeg. She was beside him. 
She had a long envelope in her hand. 
The chairman was saying to him: 

“I think we should take you to the 
party now." Then people went off in 
three cars. There she was at the party. 

“We have arranged for your friend. 
. . "said the host. “We have arranged 
for you to sit next to your friend.” 

“Which friend?" the editor began. 
"Then he saw her, sitting beside him. The 
Dane lit a candle before them. Her skin 
took on, in the editor’s surprised eye, the 
gleam of an idol He was bored: He 
liked new women to be beautiful when 
he was abroad. 

"Haven't we met somewhere?” he said. 
‘Oh, yes, I remember. You came to see 
me. Are you on holiday here? 
о,” she said. “I drink at the fount. 
He imagined she was taking the waters. 

“Fount?” said the editor, turning to 
others at the table. "Are there many spas 
here?" He was no good at metaphors. 

He forgot her and was talking to the 
company. She said no more during the 
evening, until she left with the other 
guests, but he could hear her deep 
breath beside him. 

“I have a present for yo 
before she went, giving h 
lope. 

"More biscuit 
"hi 
she said. 

"I'm afraid," 
uh 
t is not for publication. It is dedicat- 
ed to you.” 

And she went off. 

‘traordi ” sad 
watching her go; and, appe 
hosts, “That woman gave me a poem. 

He was put out by their polite, know- 
ing laughter. It often puzzled him when 
people laughed. 

The poem went into his pocket and he 
forgot it until he got to Stockholm. She 
was standing at the door of the Jecture 


she said 
n the enve- 


" he said waggishly. 
the opening canto of my poem," 


said the editor, “we rare- 


the editor, 
ing to his 


hall there as he left. He said: “We seem 
to be following cach other around.” 

And to a minister who was wearing a 
white tie: “Do you know Miss Mendoza 
from Guatemala? She is а poet,” and 
escaped while they were bowing. 

Two days later, she was at his lecture 
in Oslo. She had moved to the front row. 
He saw her after he had been speaking 
for a quarter of an hour. He was so 
irritated that he stumbled over his 
words. A rogue phrase had jumped into 
his mind—“murdered his wife"—and his 
voice, always high, went up one more 
semitone and he very nearly told the 
story. Some ladies in the audience 
were propping a cheek on their fore- 
finger as they leaned their heads to re- 
gard his profile. She had her hands in 
her lap. He made a scornful gesture at 
his audience: He had remembered what 
was wrong. It had nothing to do with 
murder: He had simply forgotten to read 
her poem. 

Poets, the editor knew, were remorse- 
less. The one sure way of getting rid of 
them was to read their poems at once. 
They stared at you with pity and con- 
tempt as you read and argued with 
offense when you told them which lines 
you admired. He decided to face her. 
Alter the lecture, he went up to her. 

“How lucky," he said. "I thought you 
said you were going to Hamburg. Where 
are you staying? Your рост is on ту 
conscience. 

“Yes?” the small girl's voice 
“When will you come and see me; 

"ГІ ring you up," he said, dra 
back. 

"I'm going to he: 
said with meaning. 

The editor considered her: There was 
a look of magnetized, inhuman commit- 
tal in her eyes. They were not so much 
looking at him as reading him. She knew 
his future. 

Back in the hotel, he read the poem. 
The message was plain. It began: 


said, 


g 


r you in Berlin,” she 


1 have seen the liberator 
The foe of servitude 
The godhead. 


He read on, skipping two pages, 
out his hand for the telephone. 
heard a childish intake of br 
the small determined voice. He sn 
the instrument; he told her in 
ng voice how good the poem was. The 
breathing became heavy, like the sound 
of the ocean, She was steaming or flying 
to him across the Caribbean, across the 
Adanti 
"You have understood my theme," she 
id. "Women are history. I am the histo- 
ry of my country.” 
She went on and boredom settled on 
him. His cultivated face turned to stone. 
"Yes, yes. I sec. Isn't there 
Indian belief that a white god 
(continued on page 211) 


ic. 


й 
паву тти гп RNN пп N A И wg # 
к " Per Ex y 


› edb by sophistiqotog ORY 
sand crackling with Viutureshotk;- 
‚ japài "s Spectacular, economic 
SI E ue Süidénci has IM jl. most 
^ cf ferished traditions-incongruously 
E delighttully-intact 


The floshy spectacle of o floorshow ot the Mikodo night club, above, and the serenity of a Shinto shr 
megolopolis thot's become the world’s largest cit 


THE MESSAGE Was slipped under the door 
of cach guest's room early in the morn- 


inp. It read: “Welcome congenial guest 
and honored Japan visitant! Announcing 
process emergency proper fire drilling 
the clock eleven.” That was the English 
version. Most guests threw it away or kept 
it as one of the more intriguing examples 
of Japanese translation. At precisely 11 
that morning, an anxious voice was hea 
over the guestroom speakers 

gency! Emergency! Fire in the ma 


or shaft! Fire in seventh and ей 


floors! Emergency! Firemen taking good 
care these fires. Evacuation commencing. 
Listen for further speaking.” 
Many guests commenced their 
tion when they heard this. Most 


own 
evact 
illed nervously in the corridors, some 
in pajamas with shaving soap on their 
ces, others still chewing breakfast or 
carrying luggage. Bright green and рш 
ple smoke billowed outside the window 
maids ran around giggling in hard hats 
nd victims wrapped їп bandages were 


lifted onto stretchers and removed 10 


ht—equally emblematic of the 


point up the bizorre culturol controdictions not only of Tokyo but of oll Japan as well. 


ambulances lined up in the hotel drive- 
. When one of them careened into 
the street at top speed and ran into an 

pproaching fire engine, the two "vi 
tims” got out and went sprinting back 
to the hotel to have their dressings 
checked. 

“Very authentic fire drill,” beamed the 
hotel man to an American guest. 
“Very thorough to prepare for possible 
The guest asked about the 
n between the fire engine and the 
ance. “Yes, yes,” was the happy 


emergency.” 
collisi 


mbu 


Appreciction of beauty ond tradition is 
manifested in monicured gardens, such as 
the sylvan retreat obave, and in the ritual of 
the bath, delightfully token & deux, below. 


Tokyo's Shinjuku district, a humming neon 
jungle ofter sundown, abounds with restou- 
ronts that display their menus in brightly lit 
windows te entice wandering diners, below. 


PLAYBOY 


response. “Authentic mistake, Sometimes 
people slightly killed in fire drills, but 
never any gucsts, Ha-hal Very authen- 
tic, thank you.” And he excused himself 
to join some hard-ha ng hotel 
executives who were posing for a group 
photograph. 

Many guests, once they learned the 
alarm was in fact only a drill, started to 
return to their rooms. Those on the 
seventh and cighth floors were informed 
at they were temporarily dead 
lentified, but to the chagrin of 
ers, the occidentals in this 
ne truculent and refused to 


ted, smi 


politely п 


group beca 


play. The Japanese guests went along 
with the game and took pictures of one 


another in front of the fire engine, 
while a couple of Europeans and Amer- 
icans muttered threats about checking 
out. Their rooms were full of brightly 
colored fumes from the smoke bombs 
detonated outside their windows. 

“Further speaking.” said the voice on 
the room speakers. “All guests апа par- 
icipants greatly thanked for their co- 
tion." A middle-aged English guest 
stamped into one of the elevators to go 
back to his breakfast. “Mad buggers,” he 
growled at the smiling operator 
my bloody boiled eggs.” 

Many travelers who have been to 
Japan would argue that this anecdote is 
hardly typical of everyday life there, but 
then, few people would agree on what 
is typical abou Japan. What is certain 
5 that to the ing foreigner, Japan is 
culture shock on a massive scale. For 
anyone from Africa, Europe, America or 
even elsewhere in Asia, the first impres- 
i Шу from euphoria to out- 
ily seasoned with confusion 
d frustration. Nothing he learns in 
other. parts of the world will equip the 
visitor to cope with Japan or its people; 
no society thinks and behaves like the 
Japanese. To go there is to be transport- 
ed to another planet, to move among 
carhlings who in mysterious fashion 
have acquired am otherworldly culture 
and scale of values, It is an enlightening, 
exhilarating and sometimes alarming en- 
counter. One tends to become either an 
addicted devotee or a hostile critic. Tt 
is perhaps the most fascinating country 
in the world. 

In historical terms, J; is still a 
novelty, its contact with the modern 
world dating only from the middle of 
the past century. For nearly 250 years 
before that, Japan excluded all foreign- 
ers from its shores, with the exception of 
a handful of Dutch traders based on an 
is 
the outside could get in and no Japanese 
coukl get out, When Europeans attempt- 
ed with limited success to break this 


nd in Nagasaki harbor. Nobody from 


168 blockade, the shogunate, or military Jead- 


ership, decreed that all foreign ships 
and crews that tried to dock were to be 
desuoyed. It was not until the mid-1850s 
that the shogunatc, threatened. on the 
one hand by increasing domestic unrest 
and on the other by persistent demands 
from foreign powers for commercial 
pacts, gave in and signed trade treaties, 
first with the Russians and later with the 
Americans. V ime an abrupt 
end to Japan's era of catatonic feudal- 
ism and selfimposed isolation, and the 
dieaded barians from the West began 
to ar n the biggest and meanest 
warships ever seen in Japanese waters. 
Observing all this, and the wondrous 
products of Western technology they 
brought with them, арап” leaders took 
their fast fateful step into the modern 
world. A special department of research 
was established; it was called Bansho 
Torishirabesho, or Office for the Study 
of Barbarian Books. There was a lot of 
catching up to do. 

Today, of course, Japan is the third- 
richest power in the world, after the 
United States and the Soviet Union. Be- 
fore the end of this century, if current 
growth continues, some experts feel it 
may overtake йз two original пешу 
partners to become the wealthiest indus- 
trial nation on earth, Other small coun- 
tries have achieved great commercial 
success in the past, but usually this was 
accomplished through a century or more 
of colonial exploitation. Japan has done 
it largely through the industry and i 
genuity of its own people in the space 
of only the past 20 years, and in the 
wake of a cataclysmic defeat in war. 

Foreigners are inclined to view this 
miraculous recovery as a result of the 
Westernization of Japan, a theory that 
has been sustained through the years by 
Western diplomats, politici: 
men and military leaders. Almost with- 
out exception, they have assumed that 
the largely benevolent administration of 
the U.S. occupation forces and the 
Westernstyle constitution imposed upon 
the country after World War Two con- 
verted a former enemy into a disciple. 
Other visitors, noting the Western-style 
progress of industrial growth and the 
urbanization of Japan, as well as the 
passion of its people for Western things, 
have reasoned that this must mean the 
country itself is imbued with our ideals. 
They are mistaken; Westernization is a 
thin film on the surface of modern Ja- 
рап. The Japanese have not renounced 
r faith in deeper and more abiding 
traditional beliefs; these remain con- 
stant. As New York Times correspondent 
Richard Halloran has pointed out, Ja- 
pan is a laboratory; it imports ideas, 
institutions and doctrines from the out- 
side, absorbs those parts it can use—after 
conversion to Japanese tastes—and dis 


cards everything else. In this manner, 
Japan has assimilated wholesale the con- 
cept and apparatus of Western technol- 
ogy, but it has rejected almost entirely 
the substance of the philosophical, po- 
lial, religious and cultural patterns 
ingrained in most Western socicties. Any- 
one who visits Japan today immediately 
becomes aware of the contrasts. 

In America, as in most parts af West- 
ern Europe, the responsible citizen knows 
where he stands He is (he thinks) 
what he says he is: an individual born 
and bred in a society that values and 
respects the integrity of the individual, 
or at least makes this clam. He is as 
good as the next man. The Japanese 
have no such view of the human condi- 
tion. They do not share our 
and sorely abused—assumption that all 
men are created equal; they believe the 
opposite, just as they believe that, among 
nationalities, the Japanese are superior 
to all. Everyone else is outside the pale, 
and this includes Okinawa-bom Japa- 
nese, the children of black or Korean 
parentage in Japan, the purely Japanese 
burakumin (the urbanghetto “village 
people" who perform the dirtiest and 
most menial labors in all large cities) 
and the Ainu, the aboriginal Caucasian 
habitants of the country, who live on 
Hokkaido and who now hover some- 
where between neglect and extinction in 
the face of an industrial revolution in 
which they have had little part. Further- 
more, the Japanese see themselves as 
members of groups: family, fellow em- 


'aunted— 


ployees, village, town, prefecture and 
nation. Loyalty to each is observed 
saupulously. There is litle room for 


п the Japanese scheme 
of things, which is why onc of the least 
surprising news events of last year was 
the highjacking of a Japanese airliner by 
nine university students. One man acting 
alone would have been dismissed as a 
neurotic misfit. 

The statu 


of the foreigner—gaijin 
—in modern Japan is largely that of an 
outsider who is politely tolerated but not 
encouraged. Tourist or resident, he is 
unlikely to be invited very often to a 
Japanese home, and he is seldom if ever 
fully accepted in the mainstream of 
Japanese life. It’s not that foreigners 
are treated with hostility, for the Japa- 
nese, as a rule, are friendly to strangers 
and anxious to please as hosts; it’s simply 
that they feel uncomfortable with a for- 
eigner, They fear he may misunderstand 
their customs, ridicule the лету or, 
worse, commit some infinite: ] but cm- 
barrassing breach of etiquette—an unpar- 
donable lapse in a country where the 
people are constantly extending invisible 
antennas, testing the social climate to 
make sure they're not going to make 
(continued on page 243) 


ma 


whit. AE Mee es Qs AG eae 


a cartoonist’s-eye view of life 
among the sexhibitionists 


f 'ducation 


la лында. бы MEI 


wean 


AEG eS 


ў 


“1 don't think the Bernards are “But—we thought your ad said A.C.[D.C." 
emotionally equipped for swinging.” 


EER арту POS diet арзу ду PND i 


“ ‘Consumer Reports’ is going to hear about this.” “What I miss is turning over 
afterward and going to sleep.” 


“By the way, Harry, Frank wanted “Oops, sorry!” 
me 10 ask you about that money you borrowed. . . .” 


"Don't hold her so tight, dear . . . “Romantic, isn't it?” 
slow down a little... 
waich out for her fingernails. . . 2° 


“Honey, I discovered a new erogenous zone.” “1 was watching you with Jack, Marty and 
Dick. I didn’t realize you knew all those things.” 


“SLOW DOWN, YOU MOVE TOO FAST" 


five high-pressure hours in the control tower of the world’s busiest airport 


article By DAVID BUTLER Even on clear days at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, ex- 
haust smog smudges the ends of the runways as they appear from the control tower, 
so that planes seem to wiggle down onto the concrete like bottom:settling fish. The 
747s are at their most exotic in this oily haze: Landing gear like great stainless-steel 
ventral fins dangle from the bellies of the big planes, make contact, and then, bending 
back, seem to draw the tonnage above them down onto themselves. It's a display of 
delicate, rushing ponderosity that might conceivably fail to thrill some men—perhaps 


B 119957 ev 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY POMPEO POSAR 


PLAYBOY 


those who, as boys, could keep themselves 
from turning to watch a Non train. 
in part be- 


jibe: "Ihe contraption thar flew at Kitty 
Hawk was light as a kite and a jet fighter 
might as well be a Roman candle, but 
in the air looks like an ab- 
stract artist's impression of а slow-mov- 
ing, airborne family of elephants. Beyond 
that, the plane's arrival satisfies the 
modern delight in sophisticated team- 
work, The successful movement of a 
747 into and out of O'Hare may be as 
difficult and serious as anything wc ask 
echnicians to do for pay. The state-of 
the-art advances in systems control are 
made in space flight. but there are 100 
ог more bodies on a jumbo jet for every 
astronaut in an Apollo capsule. For 
ine death prevention, few jobs match 
air-traffic control at O'Hare, the busiest 
in the world. 

‘The surprising thing is that the tower 
remarkably accessible in this 
h- 


isa legitimate connection with ion 
or the med and the facility's chief, 
Dan Vucurevidh, or his deputy, Bob 
Schwank, will invite you up to the office 
they share with а secretary just under 
the cab—the visual-control room at the 
top of the tower. Passing muster there, 
Schwank is your first contact, means 
explaining your assignment amd then 
enjoying Schwank's zest for people and 
-trafüc control for half an hour while 
he decides if he can trust you. 

If Schwank were a balloon and you 
lew him up two sizes, 
like Broderick Crawford. He even talks 
уе. There used to be a 
ing club in the area and some of the 
members sat around the hangar Sunday 
afternoons, drinking beer until they 
dared one another into landing at 
O'Hare or flying into bad weather. 
"bes the old under-thegun syndrome," 
Schwank says of reckless private pilots. 
“They've been through broads, they've 
been through Vegas, and so they get 
their kicks flying stoned.” 

Schwank’s ude toward the Profes- 
al Air Traffic Controllers Organiza- 
the younge: 4 most militant 
controller group, is to James 
Farmers attitude toward the Panthers. 
He argues that the Federal Aviation 
Administration—which he, as manage- 


ment, represents—has been pleading for 
т pensions and other 


higher salaries, ear 
benefits for years; it especially galls h 
that Federal smoke jumpers can retire 
after fewer years’ service than control- 


lers. But PATCO's tactics bring out the 
conservative in him. "We're not Wall 
Street,” he says, "or Madison Avenue. 


"We can't pay the way those boys can. 
We have to appeal to a spirit of loyalty, 


174 to the feeling that people had back in 


the Thirties, when it wasn’t so easy to 
get a job.” Referring to the Easter-week 
1970 PATCO slowdown, he pictures 
himself walking through the terminal, 
seeing “the little ones, the siblings 
forced by long flight delays to sleep in 
the rest rooms. They wouldn't have 
been sleeping there on account of air 
controllers 25 years ago, he implies, 
when he was manning the post for 
$1800 а year. Yet Schwank later empha- 
sizes that mianagement-controller rela- 
ions are now much improved, and he 
remains fiercely proud of his crew, or- 
ganized or not, “Every day, we han- 
dlc the traffic that gocs into and out of 
Lansing, Michigan, in a year," he says. “A 
hundred thousand people a day. Or think 
of it this way: The day shift at O'Hare 
does what Washington National does in 
twenty-four hours. Then the four-to-mid- 
night shift comes in and does it all over 
nd then the 
d be a day's 


Joad at Cincinnati.’ 
A lovely, 199-foot-tall tower with the 
streamlined shape of the Seattle Space 
Needle soars out of the apron in front 
of the carrousel building connecting the 
two main O'Hare terminals. The struc- 
ture was topped off in 1969, and casual 
travelers over the past couple of years 
sumed that this is the 
working facility. In fact, it doesn't begin 
operation until sometime this spring, 
when the five-story garage rising under it 
will begin to block off slices of runways 
from the present tower, which you have 
10 look for to find from most points in 
the airport. Squarish, its cab giving it a 
pagoda top, the tower rises less than 
100 feet above the concrete at Eastern 
Air Lines’ gates, and the eyes of a con- 
troller in the cab are only about 40 feet 
above the roofs of the adjoining terminal 
buildings. At night, many gates—some of 
Delta's à ТУА, all of American's 
and North Central’s—are hidden from 
the ground controllers. 
ve short flights of narrow metal 
stairway climb up to the cab from 
Schwank's office, and at the last landing 
а two-potted coffee maker is tucked into 
the wall. The supervisor for the seven 
to nine controllers who man the cab sits 
at a combination desk and switchboard. 
immediately at the top of the st 
Like everything else i domain, the 
accouterments of his little space appear 
to be an agreeable 15 or 20 years old. 
The salmon-pink call director at his 
right elbow is obviously less than five 
years old, but all the newness is 
smudged off it. The controllers are ar- 
ranged along two of the outjutting win- 
dow walls of the square cabin, at counters 
crowded with radios, notebooks, radar 
display screens, hand mikes and ashtrays. 
A dozen switching panels of varying 
complexity are angled in wherever there 
is room; some of these—such as the one 


s 


for runway lights—are as makeshift-look- 
ing and absorbing as anything in Buck 
. Two of the working positions 
are outfitted with raised, slanted wi 


on pipe, and the wood is 
ly gouged at the bottom edges, as 
es, so that the blond wood 
under the gray paint. The two 
narrow aisles in the room are crowded 
with heavily padded, brown-leather stools 
that are pushed back out of the way now, 
but will be pressed into service as the 
five-o'clock rush approaches. Rings run 
around the stools’ legs, and the con- 
trollers stand up on these when col- 
leagues’ or visitors heads persist in 
their line of sight to the action. 
Various combinations of controllers 
handle each plane. For an outgoing 
flight, the operation begins in a huge 
radar facility in nearby Aurora, Illinois, 
called the Chicago Air-Route Traffic 
Control Center. The center's shifts of 
150 controllers monitor all commercial 
and much other traffic a broad 
of the upper Midwest, and computers 
n Aurora spill out the clearances— 
altitudes and routes—that help keep 
the airlines on schedule and traffic 
separated. Well before а plane's sched- 
uled departure, the man in the corner 
of the cab nearest the top of the stairs 
gets the flight's clearance from Aurora 
and copies it—as a few numbers and 
abbreviated phrascs—onto a strip of still 
paper that he slips into a plastic holder 
the size of a inch ruler. About ten 
minutes before the captain of the flight 
wants to taxi, he has his copilot call 
the next man along the window, who 
gives the crew its clearance—which in 
the case of regularly scheduled runs is 
very often the same for cach flight. Now 
the man who's delivered the clearance 
takes the flight strip and slaps it down 
in front of the controller at his right. 
This man clears the plane out to the top 
of its runway when it's ready to move 
and there's room for it, There the co- 
pilot, who has already talked to clearance 
deliyery and to ground control. will be 
instructed to switch over to a third fre- 
quency, in order to talk to one of the 
two men in the cab actually gewing 
planes on and off the 1 The 
flight strip is moved again at this point, 
and as traffic increases late in the айе 
noon the ground controller paces kitty- 
corner across the room, the long coil of 
his mike out behind him, сусѕ on the 
lumbering planes, dipping and darting to 
bang his precious flight surrogates in 
front of one or another of the local 
air conuollers. These 
give the final go. As soon as the pl 
airborne, the air controller 
strip and drops it nonchalantly, hectically 
or with aplomb into the mouth of one of 
three open gravity tubes running down 


a 


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PLAYBOY 


to the towers own ground-level radar 
room, the facility's other operations 
center, The process for ап incoming 
flight is essentially the reverse: The 
radar room notifies a landing pilot to 
call the local control post in the tower 
when he's about five miles out; after 
the plane has landed and turned off the 
runway he calls a ground controller, who 
talks him around into his gate. 

The subtle everyday humor that 
thrives in situations like this—men all 
of a type who know one another well 
working the same job, no women 
around—is modified by the fact that 
everyone is at least partially abstracted 
into his headphones. Jokes ride on in- 
flections of the phrases necessary to the 
job, the season's Hee-Haw lines, what- 
ever’s handy as long as it can be slapped 
up with irony and delivered in less than 
a second. The banter is as commonplace 
and easy to like as the men themselves. 
One of the controllers in the cab this 
afternoon is about five foot eleven, and 
one, a traince, is black. Those excep- 
tions aside, the men are very much of a 
type: short; with very neatly trimmed 
һай; wearing short-sleeve shirts, narrow 
ties and snug-fitting, tapered wash-and- 
wear pants. 

“You see a lot of bodies up here," says 
the tall fellow, who looks like a weak 
Michael Caine. “But you see myself and 
one other guy that's certified in every- 
thing. We're really hurtin’ for people. 

So only two of tlic nine are journeymen 
air-traflic controllers. The rem: 
en are 
training. (In fact, at each post there is 
a man who has been extensively checked. 
out for the job; the journeyman rat- 
ing comes only alter а controller has 
been certified completely both here and 
in the radar room.) The fellow we'll 
call Michael Caine and the other jour- 
neyman are both 34. The rest are be- 
tween 22 and 27. Most of them, the 
jority of all air controllers, first 
ned to handle planes in the Service, 
where air control is one of those techni- 
cal jobs that really do what the recruit- 
ing posters promise—give boys out of 
high school and college dropouts the 
kind of skills that will qualify them 
cventually for remunerative jobs: Jour- 
neymen controllers after several years in 
the system at the busiest towers around 
the counuy make around $20,000. The 
Service background is part of the reason 
that extraneous Sirs clutter up some 
transmissions out of the tower, but there 
are a good many Sirs in the other direc- 
tion, too. Many of the exchanges consist 
of pilot or controller repeating i 
speed or a compass heading that the 
other has just given, and all indude the 
чай or flight identifi n number, 
so it sometimes sounds like the rushed 
liturgy of an early-morn Mass. But 


air 


176 through these busiest hours, at least, 


neither ts nor controllers sound 
bored. 

Variations within the type: Caine is 
set off from his colleagues in the cab 
now not only by his height but by 2 
certain veteran bitterness. (“It's an 
overloaded system,” he says at one point, 
and the only reason the cocksucker 
works is because the guys who control it 
make it work.") And Lloyd Johnson, Jr. 
—real names now—thc — afternoon’s 
black, is considerably funkier than he 
might be under the circumstances. Hop- 
ping around his post at clearance delivery 
early in the afternoon, he routes some- 
body to "Detroit city—that’s Motown 
city." At five o'clock, the supervisor calls 
to one of the men on local control, 
"Are you ready to trade with Lloyd, 
Bill?” Bill answers Yeah, and Lloyd, about 
to be tested at the post, says, “Well, here 
we go, get my [cet wet." Then he adds in 
singsong. "Yes sir, у' all 

He seems to an outsider to control 
the position with authority and panache. 
The no-nonsense individual monitoring 
him finds little to say. Lloyd—little 
Lloyd Johnson with his green check 
pants, thin mustache and half-inch-thick 
Afro—stands with the ow/orr switch to 
his mike and a Camel in one hand and 
a fat ballpoint pen in the other, lifting 
himself on tiptoes occasionally to deal 


with the ten to fifteen multimillion-dol- 
lar aircraft approaching or trying to 
depart his two runways For long 


stretches, he monotones clearances out 
to his planes without discernible pauscs 
for breath between phrases. You wonder 
how the captains are reacting to that 
voice. At one point, in joyful response 
to the crush of action, he does a little 
or three years, he was one of the 
ility’s г; equipment maintenance 
men; his eyes sparkle with intelligence. 

Meanwhile, Gaine is having а spot of 
trouble. He and the slightly progna- 
thous, pug-nosed trainee he's monito 
are controlling the older, northeaste 
complex of runways. 


TRAINEE: Zero three delta, report 
approaching cast of Navy Glenview, 
for two scven right. 

caine: Why not “Glenview”? 
TRAINEE: Huh? 


CAINE: Why not, "report Glen- 
view,” instead of, “east of Glen- 
view"? 

TRAINEE: Well, yeah. I've already 


got one that’s going to go right over 
just south of Glenview. 1 don't want 
‘em all going right to the same spot. 
1 want them separated. in case they 
all check in at the same time. If 
they're all in the same spot at the 
same time... . 

caine: Are they all VFR? [Ате they 
all operating visually, rather than 
with instruments] 

TRAINEE: Yeah. 


CAINE: Do you think they'd all get 
there at the same lime? 

TRAINEE: Yeah, they could, even 
though they're all VFR 

caine: You really think so? Listen, 
“east of Glenview” could be a mile 
or five miles. When you get him 
right over Glenview you know es 
actly where he’s at, is what I'm 
getling at. You say "east of Glen- 
view,” like I said, it could be a mile 
or five miles. 


The kid doesn't have to talk to any 
planes through this, but five minutes 
later Caine is after him again, drawing 
him to one of this room's two televi- 
sion-screen reproductions of the rada 
scopes downstairs to make a point. And 
this time, the trainee does have 10 
talk to traffic as he acknowledges the 
instructions. that Caine delivers in 
voice that apparently started in the 
South and got flattened and exasperated 
in Chicago. Only a few minutes pass 
before another exchange: 


TRAINEE: Philips [Airways] four 
twelve, plan the first left turnoff 
feasible, on landing, beyond runway 
three six. [Philips four twelve is 
landing on runway two seven righ 
which intersects runways three six 
and two two.] 

CAINE: Why? 

TRAINEE: I want him to get off 
the runway. Because technically 1 
hafta hold this guy [indicating the 
next plane in on two two] short of 
two seven right as long as he's on 
the runway. And I don’t want him 
holding short because I got tuo more 
aircraft. . . . 

CAINE: How much separation do 
you need between two aircraft on 
the runway? 

TRAINEE: Four thousand five hun- 


dred fect, and after two you run out 
of room. 
caine: All right. And how many 


you got, three planes in there? 


TRAINEE: I got three. One touch- 
ing down. 
CAINE: You say plan your left turn- 


off real quick like that, hell, he's 
liable to go way down here [point- 
ing far down the long strip]. You 
don't really need that. . . . 

TRAINEE: Î said, "Beyond runway 
three six. ae 
caine: Really, there's no need to say 
anything. You bullshit too much is 
what I'm getting at. Let the cock- 
sucker land, left on the high-speed 
[taxiway], and that's all there is to 
it. Just like TWA, remember that? 
TRAINEE: Yeah, Mid-States forty 
two, cleared to land two two. Wis- 
consin ninety seven, cleared 10 cross 
two seven. . . . After three more 
clearances, he gets his eyes out of 
the smog for a minute, takes the 


24 mg. "tar? 15 mg nicotine av. per cigarette, FTC Report Nov 70 


"O'N "uojeg-uojeu[M ‘AUEdWOD 0390901 ерїош/ән ^H 14812 


TURKISH & DOMESTIC 
END 
CIGARETTES 


Inc, N.Y., N.Y 


Heineken 
tastes tremendous 


IMPORTED HEINEKEN. IN BOTTLES, ON DRAFT AND DARK BEER. 


few steps to the panel of runway- 
light switches, and stands staring at 
them. Anything to get out of the 
way of mean Michael Caine's turbu- 
lent karma. 


Caine at his most expressive (Let 
the cocksucker land) kills other side 
conversations in the room and even 
seems to lower the voices going into the 
mikes. There is a feeling of embarrass 
ment—at his language, his fervor—for 
him in the air. Well into the rush peri- 
od now, a Lufthansa 747 touches down 
just as another опе of the monsters— 
this one а TWA—takes off, The sun's 
image in one of the great panes of glass 
laid a skew of glare on the window 
opposite it, and the refiection of the 
TWA 747 climbs steeply through а 


wash of salmon, bright colorlessness and 
then the purest, palest lime. From here 
only slightly more so than from O'Hare's 


sed, open 1 
especially the 
ly designed toys. E 
m cable from the new tower 
the passengers who sometimes still 
across the concrete to by 
inconsequential as pedestri 
hiphorise apartments 

The man in charge of departing 
ground control has been relieved for а 
moment: He rinses out a glass colfeepot 
in the weak spout of water from the 
cooler and back down at the landing 
makes more coffee. 
aine again, just 
decides three hours upst 


minal, the planes and 


service vehicles are clean. 
en the 747s will look 
and 
valk 


before the v 
irs is enough 


or 


But when you get one on one out 
there, man. Here, on the radar, 
look. Make tt, fella. “You got this 
guy oul ahead of you. Follow him.” 
Or, “Widen out to the right^ Tell 
him what to do. You gotta control 
й. As it was, you had 'em pointing 
right at each other. 


The : room down at the bot- 
tom of the elevator ride is spooky, 13 to 
g around five green-glow- 

ables in the dark. Here are tech- 
ology's votar they're anywhere, 
but in fact the i 


y look no more demonic 
than the kids upstairs. Most of the oper- 
ation is contained in a curving, six-piece 
bauery of control tables and blinking, 
suspended switch cabinets that looks like 
meling Moog synthesizer. Four men 
sit facing two vertical screens with al- 
most identical pictures along the center 
section of this console, under a neatly 
printed and centered notice: ALL sick 
LEAVES MUST BE SCHEDULED IN ADVANCE. 
Plaines approaching Chicago are h 
over to these controllers by Ашо! 
or 30 miles out, at this position put onto 
the courses that will get them to their 
nd finally—when they arc five 
miles out handed. upstairs to the cab. 
ing O'Hare, and also all 


runways 


instrumentdependent flights into and 
out of Midway, Chicago's other major 
airport, are controlled at tabletop scopes 
at the two bulging ends of the complex 
and at a third table close to it. Every 
30 seconds or so now, the plastic 
flight strips pop out of the mouths of 
the tubes from upstairs onto one of 
these departure tables. Some of the con- 
trollers peel the strips off their holders 
t this point sits with half a 
dozen or more of the curling pieces of 
paper in front of him, and there's no 
reason at all why two doors into the 
place couldn't open at the same time 
and send them scattering, but it doesn't 
seem to concern anyone. 

A controller is relieved here, stands 
up, starts dough the darkness, Some- 
him if he has vectored yet, 
g to one of the tasks in this 


He answers, “Yeah, I've vectored, 
kness the room 
more intimate than the cab, changes 


the humor. А wisecrack is sent out into 
the dusk and it doesn’t matter if no one 
laughs, because faces aren't clear. Al- 
though the room is on the ground level, 


it's windowless and has the feel of a 
deep underground bunker. It would be 

perfect set for the pay-off in a Hitch- 
cock movie. 

The operation's supervisor seats his 
visitor at the tabletop scope where three 
men are handling Midway and south 
departures out of O'Hare. Mike Powder- 
ly, on Midway, looks at the tape record- 
cr and calls across Ше room, "OK, Bob, 
you can tell your gag." 

Now four heads bend over the green 
scope and between transmissions 10 his 
planes Powderly easily and economical- 
ly explains what he's doing. "You should 
have been here earlier,” he says. "We 
had really good inbound rushes at 
O'Hare. We were staggered three miles 
part all the way out to here, 
the edge of the screcn, some 
from O'Hare at 
points out the eight smaller 
the scope, the dois thar represent. Chica 
go's Prudential Building and the John 
Hancock Center, and the segment of 
airspace in which he has to maneuver 
way's traffic to keep it clear of the 
volume of planes into and out of 


away its cent 


“We can't go on meeting like this, Gerald. 
-. I'm afraid of heights.” 


179 


PLAYBOY 


180 


O'Hare. Virtually all the planes with 
which this room is concerned carry 


transponders, gadgets that make radar 


control practicable: When a pilot i 
structed by his controller to tune the 
device to a certain frequency, what is 
called his beacon then shows up on that 
man's screen as a double slash, remain- 
ing a single slash on all other screens. 
"The double slashes especially leave lin- 
geting traces of themselves on the 
sereen, and the traces collectively ће 
oldest of them fading down to a det— 
foi e behind the bold green of 
the newest impression. The density and 
ection of the wake show the plane's 
path and speed. The screen could be a 
Jake in a nightmare, buzzing with mo- 
torboats, or a bright-treated slide of bac- 
teria cultui 

Doesn't it hypnotize you? Powderly is 
asked. 

“No,” he laughs. “It might scare the 
hell out of you, bur it won't hypnotize 
you” He's an in late 205, 


1a ма 


а big u 


h a prominent nose, and he 
answering questions, explores them. "I 
think the first few times you watch ra- 
dar, you watch the sweep go around. 
And maybe that will do it. But after 
years of watching it, you don’t even 
know there's a sweep on it. Unless it 
stops, of course.” He talks to a plane 
and then comes back to the conversa- 
tion, “When the weather's bad, it can 
give you a headache. Thunderstorms, 
sleet, hail, pilots wanting to go one way 
when you've got to run them another. 
That’s being a controller, American 514 
descend to twenty-five. Report the run- 
way or the airport in sight. It's eleven 
o'clock and eight mile 

“Hand-job,” a controller calls out, “I 
mean, hand-off.” 

Here, too, the a ge seems to be 
under 30—and Powderly is asked. why. 
"I don't know. They get old and cranky, 
and they get bleeding ulcers, and then 
they want to get away from the air- 
planes. They uansfer out to other fac 


ties and get supervisory jobs—obviously 
they can’t all become supervisors here. 
Getting out is usually what they want 
then. Your timing has to bc. . . . You 
know, it's nothing phenomenal, you 
don’t have to be Superman to work in 
here. But when we're doing parallel 
approaches into fourteen, for example. 
. . ." He points to a spot about 15 miles 
northwest of the airport: "The turn-on 
point for fourteen right is very close to 
the holding-pattern area up there, and 
you're trying to interrogate your guy 
coming in and there are all these other 
beacons. It confuses and aggravates the 
hell out of you sometimes. You have ic 
be able to look at a group of aircraft, ar 
varying speeds, and say who's going to 
be first. And you don't have time to 
work it out mathematically. In thunder 
storms, when airplanes are running all 
over the sky, you have to sit down and 
say, "Damn it, I'm gonna make it work 
right. I'm going to keep those airplanes 
арап.” And when you get a little older. 
you just can’t do that Kind of stuff, Iv 

just too much on your nerves.” Th 
looking across the table: 
Curly?" 

Watching them work а pleasure. 
Curly, absorbed in the screen, taps an 
ashtray off its edge with his pencil the 
way a pilot adjusts the trim tab in his 
plane, or a driver tunes his radio. Pow- 
derly says of planes he’s just pointed out, 
“What I'm going to have to do is get 
y from these O'Hare arrivals over 
here. They're high and fas 
heading into the bull'seye 
er inch closer oi 
^" Powderly 
“I'm gonna have to hustle.” He ta 
Му into the standard telephone 
handpiece that serves as a mike at th 
post, bending his Midway departures 
out of the paths of the spcedsters. 

“What happens if there's a power fail- 
ure?” 

Powderly grins. “Well,” he starts, “the 
fist thing I do is scream and holler 
Then І rant and rave. Then I doubt the 
ancestry of everybody in maintenance 
And then I try 10 get some help through 
to my planes. Five-oh-nine, are you al 
four [thousand feet}? 

“Five-ol-nine at four." 

“We've got backup power, of course,” 
he continues, “and it trips in automat 
cally, The transition period is when iv 
bad, because it takes a little bit for it to 
get going, just a matter of a minute or 
so, but that thing"—pointing to one of 
the double slashes—'"can go a long way 
in a minute, So what you do. .. . The 
pilot either can switch over to a visual 
approach, or you give him an altitude 
and he just holds, circling, until we get 
the power back.” 

“Assuming you can still talk to him." 

“Yes, that's true, American 509, three 


a, 
What you got, 


aw: 


wo of the 


miles from Galumet, cleared for the ap- 
proach. Contact the [Midway] tower on 
118.7 at Kedzie, good night. И radio 
fails, we go to a backup radio. If the 
backup radio fails we try to get them 
on a navigational aid, like a radio bez 
con. He navigates on it, but it also has 
the capability of broadcasting a voice. 
But, sty that power is out, and all those 


frequencies are out. Uh. . .. The pilot 
10 execute 


has procedures that he 
the event of lost communication. H 
proceed to the clearance limit and exe- 
cute an approach. And to explain all 
that would take a long time. If you look 
it up in the manuals. it seems that there 
are sixteen pages of things that he's sup- 
posed to do in different situations. But 
really it's pretty simple. He knows what 
he’s supposed to do and he will do it. The 
danger in that is that you have too 
many planes trying to do the same 
thing. And we don't run altitude separa- 
u to the fix. We run in-trail sep 
tions into the fix only. М that sepa 
holds—if they all keep their specd— 
fine. But it's like a freight train. If the 
first guy slows ир, the second guy 
slow up. too, and then you're talking 
about planes doing 360s all the way 
back to South Bend." 

He looks back to the table, with an 
expression acknowledging the incom- 
pleteness of his answer. “Гуе seen us 
lose radio but not radar, or radar and 
not radi was always another 
frequency. I've never seen everything go 
1 think the fail-safe 
systems are phenomenal. Listen, the 
never been i coll 
O'Hare. But if everything did go out at 
one time. . . ." He pauses again to con- 
sider. “Well, if your luck was good, 
youd have the weather. Maybe the 
weather would be on your side.” Anoth- 
er pause. “But if everything goes against 
you. ..." He draws away from the table, 
smiling, uncasy. 


ns 


out at onc time. 


“Well, you know," he says softly, still 
smiling, "at that point fate is the 
hunter. 


A figure in the gloom interrupts to 
remember losing both radar and r 
for four minutes, and in an exchange 
there's quick agreement that losing voice 
is much more serious than losing radar. 
“Yeah, there's nothing you can do," 
Powderly says. “You just sit there and 


watch. And it es the hell out of you. 
That's what'll age a guy.” 
The request comes down from up- 


stairs for a longerthan-usual, five mile 
separation between incoming planes so 
that the controllers in the cab can feed 
out their heavy load of departures. One 
of ше men on incoming trafic at the 
console bchind ing trouble 
making the distance. The supervisor 
calls his name across the room, and then 


us ds h 


shouts, "Five miles. Not four, not three, 
or any other number, Five? 

"OK, OK," the man says. 

Fifteen minutes later, they're closing 
up again and now the man working 
next to him and a third controller. this 
one lounging around behind his chair, 
get on him at the same time. Their 
voices aren't all that friendly. The con- 
troller has to pull a plane up through hi 
landing corridor and then loop him 
back to make the distance. Four times 
during the harassment, he says, "lt 
might work out to be five. 
Slow down,” someone even farther 
away sings softly to his blips, “you move 
too fast... .” 


Upstairs, a supervisor named Tom 
Rauner, a quiet m ing into his 
y-browi nd a зой, 
had gone to the psycho. 
logical heart of PA'TCO's case: "What 
ly makes a controller pucker, so to 
," he said, “is the fact that he has 
all these things to do and he can't say, 
"Io hell with it, I'll do it tomorrow. 
There's an enormous demand on the 
man at the moment he’s doing it. Of 
course, it has the advantage that he сап 


ik away from it, which isn't true in 
all jobs. But what the guy feels some- 
times is that it's thankless. I's self- 
rewarding only, and that isn't good 


enough for him. He's in a world of his 
own с those headphones, You can 
Jook at it from the outside for hours and 
it'll never be the same as standing there 
having to solve the problems. He's the 
only one who knows what he did, and 
there's no one to tell about it. I mean, 


he can't keep telling the same people 
about the ordeal he goes through every 
day." 

As he spoke, a journeyma 


п controller 


behind him was getting excited: “What 
he 


plans now? asked his 
‘ou got any plans?" And then: 
“What did I tell you? I told you imme- 
diate takeoff. I want you to do what I 
tell you!” And finally: "Put your fuck- 
ing glasses on! You were lucky as shit 
last time! 


Seven miles east of the airport, the 
Edens Expressway coming down from 
Milwaukee flows into the Kennedy Ex- 
presway, which runs from O'Hare to 
Chicago, and for a distance of a hundred. 
yards or so there are six lanes of traffic 
in one direction. "Timid drivers coming 
off the Edens attempt to segue three 
lanes to the right, while jockeys in the 
high-speed lane of the Kennedy now 
have to jump two or three H 
they're to retain dominance. 


At least 
once each time through the pass, some 


body's doing it stupidly enough to re- 
чийе a sudden recovery. Tonight there 
are two such lurching near misses. Illi- 
nois has no automobile inspection, and 
the near misses very often involve си 
so badly wounded they'd be impounded 
in rural Puerto Rico. Holding a lane, 
descending on the city as warily as a 
commercial pilot coming in over the 
little airports to the north, the v. 
wishes that the next time he had to get 
from O'Hare to downtown Chicago he 


could fly. 


181 


b» 


PLAYBO 


182 


PLAYBOY FORUM 


the people, and should be amputated. 
We conducted our own defense because 
we believe that the infection cannot be 
cured by hiring lawyers, even so-called 
radical Iawyers. It can't be cured by pil- 
ing yet more regulations and protections 
on an ahicady corrupt system. Each. pro- 
tection then becomes a device to hide 
the reality of corrupt manipulation. The 
job of changing our judicial system has 
to be done by people, not by specialists 
and professionals with status and an 
economic stake in the outcome, but 
people willing to work from a basic 
principle: The law must operate at the 
level of the people. This fundamen 
change will occur only as people wil 
ly engage themselves in legal struggle, 
not when they hire others to do the job. 

Seth E. Many 

Carolyn R. Peck 

Cambridge, Massachusetts 


WOMAN'S SELF-IMAGE 

About а year after the birth of her 
second child, my sister suddenly sur- 
prised me by blossoming forth with a 
bly full bosom. Since she'd been 
on the small side (о begin with and had 
lost what little breast development she 
had after pregnancy, I suspected she'd 
1 help from sources other than na- 
ture, Finally, I had an opportunity to 


(continued from page 73) 


discuss it with her tête-à-tête. Tt turned 
out she'd undergone an i 
tion—enlarging her 
n of synthetic 
ial—and was quite happy with the 
results, 

"m the kind of person who doesn't 
believe in tampering with nature unless 
t's necessary; it's better to learn to ac 
cept yourself as you are. | asked if her 
husband had pushed her into the opera- 
поп and she sail no, it was her own 
idea. Fm still puzzled, though. Since 
(according to Desmond Morris in The 
Naked Ape) the full, rounded breasts of 
women exist to attract men, why would 
nt to tamper with h 
vi 


а wont 


an 


pearance unless to please the mi her 
life? Is this a psychologically healthy 
thing to do? 
(Name withheld by request) 
New York, New York 
Whether a woman's reasons for en- 
hancing the size of her breasts are sound 
will depend on how realistic her expec- 
tations are. Women who think an im- 
proved breast contour will change their 
whole lives and women who undergo 
the operation to please others, such as 
husbands or lovers, ате likely to be dis- 
appointed, In an article in “Medical 
Aspects of Human Sexuality,” Dr. Har- 
vey A, Zarem, a plastic surgeon, names 


seck 


four categories of women who 
breast-enlarging operations: young wom- 
en who are totally flat-chested, women 
who (like your sister) experienced breast 
atrophy after pregnancy, women whose 
profession, such as topless dancing, calls 
for larger breasts and women whose 
breasts are noticeably asymmetrical. The 
operation will be successful in terms of 
helping such women, Dr. Zarem says, if 
they undergo it primarily to enhance 
themselves in their own eyes: 


The most commonly outward mo- 
live is to gratify their own ego, to 
improve their self-image. They state, 
often without prodding, that they 
do not expect an improved breast 
contour 10 alter other people's at- 
titudes toward them, but they are 
convinced that they themselves will 
be happier with their own image. 
When this altitude prevails, a satis- 
factory outcome can be expected. 


MANY KINDS OF LOVE 

Several letters in The Playboy Forum 
from women having affairs with ma 
men voice the complaint that they will 
never be able to take these men com- 
pletely away from their wives, that they 
cm know and enjoy only а part of 
them. I find this attitude pathetic 

I am 26 and have been married for 
ten y ad I enjoy being worried 
over, provided for and loved by my 


The only thing they couldnt get 
was Craigs floor-mount car stereo. 


husband; but he does not fully possess 
me, Neither does the man with whom 
I've been having an affair for the past 
year. Why, then, should I want to pos- 
sess either of them? 

My relationship with this other man 
—who is also married—is very reward- 
ing, and we are always saying, “I love 
you,” to cach other. Neither of us in- 
tends to leave our spouse, and we un- 
derstand that we enjoy each other so 
much because we aren't married and 
don't have to undergo the strain of 
daytoday living together. There are 
many kinds of love—1 love my father, 
my husband and my other man each for 
different reasons. 


WOMEN’S LIB AND LESBIANS 

In conversations about the movement 
for female equ several friends of 
mine, secure and smug in their male 
chauvinism, have said, “Those women 
аге just а bunch of man-hating dykes. If 
they just once had a good lay, they'd 
shut up." 1 always dismissed this at 
tude as a kind of know-nothing argu- 
mentum ad feminam. 1 do support 
women's lib, although I make a distinc- 
tion between the women who agitate for 
equal pay, equal opportunity, day-ca 
centers and sexual freedom and those 
who seem bent on fomenting some kind 


of total psychological warfare between 
the sexes: the gals in combat boots, the 
PLAYBOY burners, the ones whose femin- 
ism is all mixed up with Marxism and the 
like. But even this latter group 1 would 
not attack as man-haters and Lesbians. 
Lately, however, noted that 
avowed Lesbi: 
in the feminist movement. I've read that 
Bay women are breaking with organiza- 
tions dominated by homosexual men to 
devote themselves to women's liberation. 
By the same token, feminist organiza- 
tions have taken the trouble to e 
solidarity with Lesbians. Alb this makes 
me wonder if women's liberation has 
become some kind of Trojan horse for 
Lesbianism. Are Lesbians fome 
strife between women and men because 
it serves their purposes? Or is all this 
attention to Lesbians in women's lib 
merely what Aileen Hernandez of the 
ation for Women called 
“sexual McCarthyism”? 
Howard Marks 
New York, New York 
The women’s liberation movement is a 
political, economic and social struggle, 
and the statements of its spokeswomen 
should be judged for pertinence, logic 
and factuality—the question of their 
sexual preferences being generally irrele- 
vant. However, a person's private tend- 
encies would be relevant when he or she 
is making subjective, impressionistic eval- 


Туе 


uations of sexual relationships. Homosex- 
uals have often pointed out that when 
woeful descriptions of the gay life are 
writien, either by heterosexuals or by 
unhappy homosexuals, their validity is 
questionable. In the same way, a person 
whose heterosexual experiences have 
been nonexistent, unsatisfactory or 
downright awful is not likely to be much 
of an authority on love between the 
sexes. When some women’s liberationists 
say such things as, “It may be that sex is 
a neurolic manifestation of oppression,” 
or, “The biological differences between 
men and women mean nothing,’ or, 
“Love between a man and a woman is 
debilitating and counterrevolutionary,” 
or, "Sex is just а commodity, a pro- 
статей activity, it is not a basic need,” 
it would help to know on what evidence 
such statements ате based. If they are 
based on the speakers personal experi- 
ence, it would help to know not only 
the nature of that experience. but also 
how extensive or limited it has been. 


“The Playboy Forum" offers the 
opportunity for an extended dialog be- 
tween readers and editors of this pub- 
lication on subjects and issues related to 
“The Playboy Philosophy.” Address all 
correspondence to The Playboy Forum, 
Playboy Building, 919 North Michi- 
gan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. 


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183 


PLAYBOY 


184 


tured out 


(continued from page 139) 
menswear,” said Green, as he provided 
incisive commentary on the invitation- 
only offerings that had been submitted by 
60 renowned designers. The audience of 
400 personalities from the fashion, social, 
business and entertainment worlds, who 
had cach paid $100 to dine, dance and 
view the clothes (all for the benefit of 
development fund at New 
Fashion Institute of Technology), 
found Green's sartorial critique almost 
as entertaining as the selections, 

The list of designers invited to display 
kind wares that met PLAYBOY's 
ds of design excellence read like 
tional edition of Who's Who 
in Fashion and included such eminent 
couturiers as Bill Blass, Hubert de Given- 
chy, Pierre Cardin, Yves St. Laurent, 
erre Balmain and Mare Bohan of 
Christian Dior. America’s pop-poster 
king, Peter Max, was also ited to 


contribute; he came forth with the sta 
stamped jump suit pictured on page 143. 
From Eastern Europe, the apparel firm 


of Cen-Tro-Tex of Prague, Czechosloya- 
kia, offered a handsome three-piece wool 
walking suit. Xavier de La Torre of 
Mexico chose to focus his creative think- 
ing on the influence fashion has on 


leisure and presented an embroidered 
whitecotton resort formal shirt and 
pants that would be right at home in 
ulco. 

If one word could be chosen to de- 
scribe the cumulative impression left by 
the rLavgoy Collection, it would have 
to be liberation. Mcn's clothing по long- 

ition-bound industry in 
trend, such as the Ivy 
look, could indefinitely bind creative 
thinking. “Today, nobody's trying to 
force men into а mold,” is Green's way 
of putting it “All the designers are 
doing different things, so men can choose 
what they like. Irs the guy spending 
the money who should decide whats 
right for himself.” 

Undoubtedly, the fact that each of the 
designers was obviously doing his own 
thing contributed to Green's decision, in 
establishing the show’s ground rules, to 
bypass designer awards. And when the 
last model had left the runway, no one 
in the audience felt the need for addi- 
tional accolades. 

Fashion is great smorgasbord,” says 
Сте апа all are invited to the table; 
nobody should be on a diet.” After a 


look at our random sampling of Collec- 
tion clothes, which begins on page 139, 
we're sure you'll agree. 


“Well, Mr. Ecology, where's the nearest 
propane filling station?" 


A 
(continued from page 122) 

Roll each of the sole fillets up neatly 
and fasten with а toothpick. Poach them 
gently in water to which you have added 
the lemon juice, When they are done— 
7 or 8 minutes—remove them carefully 
and let them drain on absorbent paper. 
"When the fillets have drained, place them 
in a buttered and floured 2-quart soufflé 
dish, Remove the toothpicks. In the top 
of 2 double boiler, melt the butter, stir 
in the flour. Cook for a couple of min- 
utes. Pour in the chicken broth, add a 
dash of silt and pepper and the par- 
mesan cheese. Stir constantly until mix- 
ture is rich and smooth. Remove from 
heat and then add beaten egg yolks. 
Again, stir until smooth. Then set aside 
to cool for at least 15 minutes, Beat the 
egg whites, sprinkling the cr 
over them as you go, into stil 
peaks. Spoon y4 of the b 
over the cooled cheese mixture. Stir in 
igorously. Then dribble this sauce over 
the rest of the whites. Lift and fold саге. 
fully until all is blended lightly. Slide this 
over the sole fillets. Bake in : 
350° oven for 25 minutes, but test before 
removing from oven. 


PLAIN SOUFFLE у 


CAVIAR SAUCE 


This is a soufllé to have some happy 
midnight when you are celebrating some- 
thing fine. A bottle of champagne is rcal- 
ly all you need add—except, of course, a 
soufflé loving companion. 


3 tablespoons butter 
sblespoons flour 
cups milk 
ablespoons grated parmesan cheese 

Cayenne pepper 

б egg yolks, beate 

4-02. jar best black ca 

3 tablespoons sour cream 

б egg whites 

Y teaspoon cream of tartar 

Melt the butter in the top of a double 
boiler. Stir in е flour and cook for a 
few minutes. Add the milk and the ра 
mesan cheese and, stirring constantl 
cook until all is smooth, Remove fro 
the heat, add a dash of cayenne and the 
beaten egg yolks. Stir until this becomes 
a creamy sauce, then set aside to cool to 
room temperature, Mix the caviar with 
the sour cream and refrigerate. Beat the 
egg whites, sprinkling the cream of tart 
over them, until they form moist. pc 
Spoon jg of the beaten whites over 
the basic sauce ix well. Dribble this 
ad 
fold gently to combine throughout. Slide 
this mixture into a buttered and floured 
2-quart souflé dish and bake in a pre- 
heated oven (350°). The dish should be 
done in 25 minutes, but test ahead of 
timc to make certain. When serving the 


souffié, dribble some of the caviarand- 
sourcream sauce over each portion, 


Dessert Souffiés 
VANILLA. SOUFFLE 


3 tablespoons butter 

3 tablespoons flour 

1 cup hot milk 

1 cup sug 

1 Lin. piece of vanilla bean or 1 tea- 

spoon vanilla extract 

5 egg yolks 

6 egg whites 

VY teaspoon cream of tartar 

Melt the butter in the top of a double 
boiler. Mix in the flour. Cook a minute; 
add the hot milk, the sugar aud, if 


extract will do, but add it after the mix- 
ture is cooked. Stir this constantly until 
it is thick and smooth. Remove from the 

re and discard the vanilla bean. (Now 
add the vanilla extract, if thats what 
you're using.) Beat the egg yolks and 
add to the sauce, Allow the mixture to 
cool, 15 minutes at least. Beat the egg 
whites until they are sti and creamy. 
Sprinkle the cream of tartar over them 
аз you beat. When the egg whites are 
stiff, add a large spoonful to the vanilla 
mixture and fold thoroughly until the 
mixture has a slightly foamy texture. 
Now, dribble mixture over the remaini 
egg whites and fold carefully, until all is 
mixed thoroughly. Slide this into a but- 
tered and sugared 2-quart souflé dish 
and place in a preheated 350° oven. This 
should be done in about 25 minutes, but 
test it. Crushed raspberries, sugared, with 
a little Kirsch make a good sauce for 
this. Or you might wy either of the fol- 
lowing sauces: 


% cup orange marmalade 

% cup apricot jam 

1⁄4 cup orange juice 

2 teaspoons lemon juice 

In the top of a double boiler, place the 
nge marmalade and the apricot 
Cook until they liquefy. Then scrape them 
to a blender and add the orange juice 
d the lemon juice. Blend until all is 
smooth. You can use this sauce either hot 
or cold. 


Ve cup sugar 
3 tablespoons very strong black coffee 
lespoons Grand Marnier 


melt the 
sugar and stir until it is a rich brown, 
Remove from the heat and stir in the 
very strong black coffee and the Grand 
Marnicr. Return to the heat for a mo- 
nt and stir until all is blended. This 
sauce can be used hot, cold or lukewarm, 


ll, heavy iron skillet 


GRAND MARNIER SOUFFLÉ 


3 tablespoons buuer. 
2 tablespoons flour 
1 сир heavy cream 


“Say when.” 


6 tablespoons sugar 

5 egg yolks 

5 tablespoons С 

6 egg whites. 

16 teaspoon cream of tartar 

Melt the butter in the top of a double 
boiler and add the Пош. Mix well 
and cook for а moment. Then pour i 
the heavy cream, stir constantly until 
this thickens and then add the када 
When the sugar has dissolved, remove 
from the heat and allow to cool, When 


nd Marnier 


the mixture is cool, beat the yolks and 
stir them into it along with the Grand 
‘Marnier, inkle the cream of tartar 


moist peaks 
beaten whites and mis 
the Grand Marnier sauc 
this sauce over the rei 
and fold thoroughly and carefully, Slide 
the soufilé mixture into a buttered and 
ared 2-quart soufflé dish and place in 
a preheated 350° oven for about 20 min- 
utes. Test to make с in the soufilé 
done before removing from the oven. 


orously into 
Then dribble 


COFFEE SOUFFLÉ 


3 tablespoons butter 
3 tablespoons flour. 

% cup hot milk 

% cup strong black coflee 


% Cup sugar 

4 egg yolks 

5 egg whites 

14 teaspoon cream of tartar 

Melt the butter in the top of a double 
boiler and mix in the flour. Cook a 
minute. Add the hot milk and the strong 
black coffee. Add the sugar and cook 
and stir constantly until the mixture 
well combined. ‘Take this off the fire. 
Beat the yolks, and when the mixture is 
itl cool, add them to it, Beat the egg 
whites until stiff, spr & the cream of 
tartar over them as you beat, When the 
mixture is really cool, add a large spoon- 
ful of the whites and combine thoroughly 
with it, then add this to the remaining 
egg whites and fold gently. Pour this 
into a buttered and sugared quart 
soufflé dish and place in a preheated 
850° oven. This should take about 95 
minutes, but test it, The best sauce for 
this coffee soufflé is simply whipped 
cream, thoroughly chilled, with a lite 
brandy added, 

So take heart. As you can sce, there is 
nothing mysterious about the souflé 
scene, Just remember that knowledge is 
the prime ingredient, and press on, 


185 


PLAYBOY 


186 


WORLD 42 
FREAKS О (continued from page 136) 
(Tina, alone of the girls in the house, 
wears а bra), Al tells Jimmy to sit 
down: “The teeny-boppers you let in 
don't have enough yet to put bras 
around.” It is clear that, though су 
one votes, Al is the real judge 
Yet Al is also the next one convicted 
—of losing the house football on а 
mountainside picnic (they climb a near- 
by mountain whenever they have some 
particularly good stuff to smoke or drop. 
—"We get off on the trees”). Jimmy 
prosecutes again. Al had earlier sworn 
out an affidavit against Jimmy for leav- 
ing the football in the rain—there are 


trials. 


old conflicts nagging at the brothers. 
Currents of serious criticism run be 
neath all the banter of tial Jimmy 


finds Al too officious. 
Dwayne rises to bring Dusty to trial 
“He bouge: 
about Dani." 
“Oh, she can fuckin’ 
wants,” Dusty 
“But if she docs. you might kill her— 
or one of us,” Dwayne says 
“It's not an issue, she can't ball any 
now anyway, not till she fuckin’ 


shows a s possessiveness 


fuck anyone she 


pswers 


one 


gets over the clap. But this is the time 
to get it all out front.” 
Mickie objects: “I thought who is 
balling who was not a matter for trial." 
"Right" Dwayne answers, “But this is 
not about balling—only about Dusty 
trying to prevent people from balling 
freely with whoever they want; and that 
is a violation of the house code. 
Dusty: “Why not wait till Dani is 
back to sce if she wants to ball others?” 
Dwayne: "No chick has ever been 
here without balling more than one." 
Sure they have. Remember Silvy?" 
"But she didn’t like it here; th: 
why she left. 
Balling should be nobody's business 
but those involved. 
“Remember, 
should speak, hencef 
and the ballee.” 
Mickie comes back, “If balling is no- 
body's business, why docs everybody try 
to make the most noise possible? 1 some- 
times think we're going to shake the 
goddamn house down. Everyone wants 
cheerleade: the bedside, to see he is 
getting his. 


a 1—one 
rth, of the ballor 


thi: 


“Га smile, too, if everything my company 


owned was tax-exempt!” 


“That's right,” Tina spouts. “That he 
is getting his. The whole balling ethic 
here is male piggism.” 

“You seem to enjoy it,” Jimny leers. 

“But I want to be more than a piece 
of meat for you to get off on—you 
remember I left you when you took that 
attitude.’ 

“But you came back.” 

“Just when I got too cold in the other 
bed.” 
everal 
n 


ds of hostility are out now, 
ked—and sex dragged it all out, 
in any uptight suburb. 
Al intervenes, “This is а m 
grossoff. 

Dusty is acquitted. “Sometimes,” he 
says, “this place reminds me of a fucki 
fraternity hou 

Mickie, who graduated fom an Ivy 
League school, lifts a maudlin tenor, 
“We're poor little lambs who have gone 
astray... 

To lighten things, Al gets out some of 
his favorite bad poems and reads them 


melods Dwayne doing silent 
movie chords and shakes on his guitar 
The first poem is The Highwayman. 


“She blew off her tits,” Jimmy says after- 
ward. “No wonder he split.” Then The 
Face on the Barroom Floor. 

Dwayne, who has recorded 
songs on an obscure label, 


compositions, all lovelorn м ssion 
ate bootstompings and gittar-lashings. 
Mickie comes in at the end with “Gen 


tlemen songsters off on a spree. 

Al, turned serious again, reads from 
Evtushenko (how not people die, but 
worlds die in them) and his own note- 
books (how his shadow glides at his side, 
the revolutionary in him, stalking him 
with accusation for worlds not brought 
to birth). Tina is nuz:ling the house 
cat, a furry collection of crossed wires 
(there is LSD in its saucer on good 
nights). Jimmy flickers a dim flashlight 
on the ceiling. “Hell, who can get off on 
1 he finally sighs, and goes for wood 
to make a fire. 

Mickie softly rubs Tina awhile as she 
rubs the cat, and then they head for the 
stairs together. “What's up [or tomor 
А! asks, 

“Rifle practice, 
"Up the mountain.” 


Jimmy: "There's only one thing I 
care about. Tomorrow the hash! 
Mickie brays his way upsta 


ging Tina: “Doomed from here io 
eternity, . . 
1 ask Al what will happen tomorrow 


of 


“Tomorrow?” he says with thean 
pretentiousness—his only way 
preserving all the soured hopes: “To- 
morrow the revolution!” And goes up- 
stairs to write in his notebooks. 


now, 


ONE GOOD TURN (coniinucd from page 138) 


Devlan carefully controlled his temper. 
Anger was a luxury one could ill afford 
in this country. “But if Don Antonio is 
to get his money, I must have the insur- 
plained. 
the captain agreed. Again, 
he touched Devlan on the elbow to 
guide him across the street and into 2 
narrow alley. “However, Don Antonio 
has had bad luck with his stall recently,” 
he continued. “Four times, it has been 
destroyed by a passing visitor to our city. 
‘Three times were by automobiles. This is 
the first time it has been hit by a motor- 
cycle. Possibly, you noticed there is a 
piece of sewer pipe lying in the road. It 
lies at such angle that if it is i 
turns the vehicle into the stall" The 
captain turned toward Devlan and 
smiled. “This is why no one ever is in 
that stall. There is too much chance of 
becoming injured. 

Despite his predicament, Devlan 
found himself s ng back. "And the 
idea never has occurred to anyone to 
remove 

Again, the captain shrugged. "Every- 
one who lives in Puerto Perdido knows 
that it is there, señor.” He took a Delica- 
do cigarette from his pocket, then prof- 
fered the pack to Devlan. “The last 
accident involved a gringo tourist who 
had driven up from La Paz. He had 

nsurance, but the insurance company 
told Don Antonio that he should have 
learned by now that the sewer pipe 
caused damage to his stall and they 
would pay him nothing. Now he feels it 
is better to take something as a sccurity. 

"Don Antonio is a truc bandido," 
Devlan said conversationally. "He gives 
this city a bad reputation. The tourists 
will not come anymore.” 

The police captain shook his head. 
"There аге no tourists here, but very 
rarcly. This is a town for the shrimp and 
the vegetables that are grown in the 
hills, There is nothing here for the tour- 
ist, except that we have two very fine 
whorchouses." 

“Nevertheless. Don Antonio is a ban- 
dit, a robber. You should put him in the 
jail rather than me.” 

The police captain paused 
against the wall in the па 
puffing on his aromatic ciga He 
sighed and exhaled. “But you are only 
a gringo and he is the brother of the 
alcalde." 

Devlan shook his head. “I am a writer 
and he is a mere thief with а brother 
who is a politicia 

“Then that makes both of you danger- 
ous.” The officer toyed with the flap of 
his holster, “There is a bus that goes to 
La Paz,” he suggested, 

Devlan shook his head. "How much 
does Don Antonio ask for damages, 
Captain?” 

fren thousand pesos. About the 


same as he can get for the machine, 
seno 

"His shop is not worth a quarter of 
that.” 

The captain shrugged and looked at 
his watch. “There is an inn on the plaza, 
señor. Not the best inn, but is more com- 
fortable than the jail. Because you are 
a very reasonable and a very agreeable 
gringo, you may stay there until a solu- 
tion to this problem presents itself. 
However, please do not attract attention 
to yourself in the town, because Don 
Antonio, a bandit. still is the brother of 
the alcalde, and he thinks you will send 
for the money more quickly if you are in 

тай.” 

Tow soon do you think th 
will present itself?” 

“Tomorrow is a fiesta. Possibly, it will 
be the day after tl 

Devlan smiled and held out his hand. 
“Vaya con Dios, Captain," he said. 

‘The captain shook his head. "Go with 
the bus to La Paz" he replied and, 
turning, he walked away. 

Devlan continued down the alley for 


solution 


“First, let me make this plain. It isn't your hair. . . . 


no other reason than to avoid following 
the soft-spoken police captain. It turned 
out to be the proper direction, for the 
alley opened onto the plaza of the com- 
munity. A carnival had been set up in 
the square in preparation for the fiesta. 
The Ferris wheel jutted into the sky as 
high the steeple of the church. A 
workman carried а shabbily painted 
horse toward the merry-go-round and 
two others pounded on a large stake, the 
heavy sledges altemately hitting their 
target in perfect rhythm. Apparently, 
this preparation was the prime attraction 
for the evening in Puerto Perdido, for 
all four sides of the large plaza were 
rimmed by the young and the old watch- 
ing the workmen. The posada Devlan 
sought was but a few yards to the right 
of the alley and was identified as such by 
a small blue neon sign. 

The captain was being charitable 
when he referred to the place as an inn. 
Tt consisted of five rooms over a cantina. 
Devlan signed the register on top of a 
small ice chest that contained beer and 
soft drinks, paid his five pesos to the bar- 
tender, then climbed the stairs at the 
rear of the cantina to his quarters. The 


» 


187 


PLAYBOY 


room smelled strongly of fish and beer 
and he wondered idly as to the condition 
of the jail if this room was better than a 
cell. A 15-watt bulb hung from а frayed 
cord in the center of the room. The roll 
curtain over the window was torn and 
mended with cellophane tape. The ma 

tress on the bed had the thickness of a 
couple of blankets. Devlan went back 
down to the bar and ordered а Dos 


^] witnessed your unfortunate accident 
earlier this evening,” the bartender said 
as he uncapped the bottle of beer. 

“I understand there have been many 
te accidents there. 
rtender chuckled and opened 
another bottle for himself. "Perhaps you 
would have noticed Don Antonio's little 


Devlan agreed. "I would not 
be surprised, however, if she is a part of 
the trap. Does she work for Don Anto- 
nio?" 

“Oh, no, Senor Devlan." The bartend- 
er raised the bottle to his 
a good half of it, then wiped his lips 
with the back of his hand. *Sarita works 
at the Casa de las Мипесаѕ, She is very 
much а woman. She comes from Jalisco, 
which is my home, also.” 

“You have two very fine establishments 
in Puerto Perdido,” De d. “The 
captain told me.” 

“The very best. The other is El Eco, 
which is across the street. For myself, 1 
prefer the Munecas, but they are both 
very finc. It is that the rooms аге better 
at the Munecas.” 

Devlan grinned and tipped his head 
toward the stairs, "Better than these?” 

The bartender nodded, then finished 
his beer. “These are only for the fisher- 
men who sometimes get too drunk to get 
back to their boats.” 


When Devlan awoke, the sun flooded 
in the window and the breeze that bil- 
lowed the curtains carried with it the 
smells of the waterfront community, of 
fish and tacos and enchiladas and the oil 
which they are cooked. S. 
ked at the foot of the bed, legs crossed. 


Indian style, brushing hi long, 
coarse black hair. Нег blacktipped 
breasts swayed with the movement of her 


rms. Muscles over her rib cage rippled. 
a magnificent animal. perfectly 
proportioned. Her face did not meet the 
accepted standards of the beauty contest- 
t. Her nose was squashed and her 
right canine tooth was gold capped, but 
Devlan liked her. "One morc time," he 
said, clasping his hands behind his head. 
"Una  propina?' Her black eyes 
led. 
“TIl give you more th 


sp: 


n a tip.” he 


188 replied. “Today is a fiesta for something. 


I will take you to the carnival and then 
to the best restaurant in Puerto Perdido. 
Then I will bring you back here at six 
o'clock, kiss your hand and, with a tear 
i eye, turn you over to your new 


a laughed, threw her brush on the 
floor and leaped upon him. "You аге 
she said breathlessly after 
a while. "I give you last time as a 
propina.” 

He shook his head. 
the carnival.” 

"La Señora Valentine will not allow.” 

"Why not?” 

“One girl go out with customer, then 
soon all girls go out with customer, This 
is very bad for Senora Valentine,’ 

How тапу girls i 
With me, eleve: 

"And Señora Valentine makes twelve. 
You will all come.” 

Rolling off the bed, she stood up 
looked at him curiously, her head tipped 
to one side. “You very crazy gringo,” she 


We shall go to 


ious,” he replied, once again 
clasping his hands behind his head. “Go 
tell her.” 

Sarita shrugged, slipped into her skirt 
and blouse and went out of the room. 
For a moment, Devlan lay quietly on the 
bed, then, with a laugh, he got up and 
went into the bathroom, On small 
shelf above the basin, he found a razor 
with an incredibly dull blade with which 
he managed i0 scrape off most of his 
whiskers before he went back into the 
bedroom and dressed. As he pulled on 
his boots, he heard the first salvo of 
firecrackers. It was, indeed, a fiesta, He 
checked the roll of bills in his pocket. 
The almost 5000 pesos and he still 
had some traveler's checks. Sarita came 
back into the room. “It is impossible,” 
she said. “First she said no, then she said 
yes, and then she said no again because 
of Señora Querida at El Eco.” 

“Ah, El Eco," Devlan said. “And how 
many girls are there at El Eco?” 

“It is the competit 9 REY 
plained. "Señora Valent s afraid we 
will lose some of our regular customers 
to Señora Querida. There is good busi- 
ness during lunch and then there is the 
fiesta, which will bring in the farmers 


а ex- 


"How many girls at El Eco?" Devlan 
repeated 

“Only 

"Plus Señora Querida makes seven. 
That is a total of nineteen. Will you ask 
Señora Valentine to ask Señora Querida 
to join us with her family?” 

Again, Sarita tipped her head. “And 
you will pay for everyone?” 
my money has disappeared.” 

It took the better part of two hours to 
convince the two madams that he was 
serious, and then the time of departure 
lor the outing was set at noon. Some of 


the girls had worked late and needed 
to sleep, but at noon precisely, rhe two 
houses were locked and Devian, who also 
had napped with Sarita, accompanied by 
17 girls of assorted shapes and sizes, two 
madams, both rotund and heavily corset- 
ed, marched the short block to the Puer- 
to Perdido plaza, where they descended 
en masse on the concessions and various 
rides. 

"The girls could all well afford to come 
here," Señora Valentine commented as 
the Ferris wheel lifted her and Devlan 
and Señora Querida up over the city, 
“but it is unlikely they would have come 
alone.” 


S" Señora Querida agreed. 
good for them to have a rest, for 
hr they shall be so busy." 

Devlan nodded and took another bite 
from his ice cone. "The farmers coming 
in for the fiesta," he said. 

"And the fishermen 
night" Señora Valentine added. 
poor darlings." 

The wheel started on another round 
and Devlan shifted in an attempt to find 
а more comfortable position between hi: 
two rotund companions. He had a feel- 
ing that the two madams were keepi 
him a prisoner, but it did not bother 
him. 

“Why do you spend so much money 
on our girls when you could give it to 
Don Antonio and get back your ma- 
chine?" Señor Valentine asked after a 
while. 

Devlan pushed the remainder of his 
ice cone into his mouth and swallowed 
it. "Don Antonio is a bandit,” he re- 
plied, wiping his fingers inside his pants 
pockets. “There are few people who like 
bandits, including myself. You ladies 
have temples of love and there are few 
people who do not like love, including 
myself. A man feels good when he does 
something for people he likes. Only a 
politician does something for a person 
he does not like.” He laughed. “And, in 
addition, I do not have enough money 
to pay Don Antonio all that he seeks,” 

“He is a politician," Señora Valentine 
said. “He is the brother of the alcalde. 

At a quarter of six, Dcvlan turned 
down invitations from both Señora 
Querida and Señora Valentine, said 
goodbye to Sarita and started away from 
the two houses, when he literally bumped 
into the police сар his is a won- 
derful thing you have done," the captain 
said. "Never before in the history of 
Puerto Perdido has a North American 
made such a magnificent gesture to the 
girls of our community.” 

“You are very kind, Captain 

“It must have cost you a fortune, 
Señor Devlan 

"Not so much as I thought." 

Fiom one end of the town to the 
other, people have been guessing how 
much it did cost you.” 


will return. to- 
"Our 


“About one thousand pesos,” Devlan 
said, “including the dinne 

The police captain shook his head. 
“Don Antonio called his brother and the 
alcalde wants to know why I let you 
spend so much money on the ladies of 
pleasure when you cannot afford to pay 
for the damage you incurred at the shop 
of Don Antonio.” 

"I am afraid I have not been very 
discreet." 

“Alas, that is true.” The police captain 
nodded. “Now I must take you to the 
iL" He touched him on the elbow. 
“However, I am very happy that you had 
the opportunity to enjoy yourself last 
night. Sarita is very much of a woma 

The cell was worse than the hotel 
room over the cantina. It was very small 
and the bed was nothing more tl a 
series of straps laced between wooden 
posts. The food, however, was good. It 
was brought in from the outside, the 
jailer , and consisted of gallina con 
mole with refried beans. With it were 
two bottles of cold Dos Equi 

About 11, the police captain came to 
the cell, opened the door and motioned 
for Devlan to come out. “The front 
wheel on your machine has been re- 
paired, amigo,” he said, “and we have 
filled your tank with petrol.” 

"You are very kind, Captain,” Devlan 
replied cautiously, 


“Don Antonio has removed his pipe 
and it has been agreed that he will not 
put it back. It has made him very angry 
with you.” 

Devlan looked at the even-tempered 
police captain 
again motioned for him to pass through 
the door. “It is the wish of the alcalde 
that you move yourself to La Paz as 
quickly as it can be arranged,” he said. 

With a faint shrug, Devlan stepped 
out into the anteroom of the jail. The 
turnkey who had brought him his supper 
Jooked up and smiled, then turned away 
as the prisoner and the police captain 
stepped outside. The fireworks exploded 
steadily in the nearby plaza and Devlan 
could hear the happy cries of the carni- 
val patrons. His motorcycle stood on its 
pedestal by the curb, guarded by another 
“And why has the alcalde 
me my friend in need, Captain? 
Не is not your friend, Senor Devi 
‘The police captain tipped his head. "He 
is сусп more angry than is Don Anto- 
." He touched Devlan on the elbow 
to guide him toward the motorcycle. 
“But he admires the manner in whi 
you solved your difficulty. I myself t 
it was magnificent and 1 am sorry 
that you cannot stay in Puerto Pe 
for I would like to haye such a clever 
man as my friend personally. 

Devlan paused beside the motorcycle. 


"What did I do to solve my difficulty, 
Captain?” 

The police captain stared at him for a 
moment. "You do not know, señor?” 
Then, suddenly, he began to laugh and 
he slapped the broad belt that held his 
gun holster. “I myself thought that you 
had planned it this way.” Then he 
slapped Devlan on the back. "I will tell 
you, amigo,” he said presently, when he 
regained control of himself. “It was the 
girls at El Eco and Las Munecas, amigo. 
On fiesta night, the night of our patron 
saint, they went on strike. Not a fisher- 
not a farmer, not a soul can enter 
doors until you are released from 
Again, he laughed. “There are 
more angry men in front of the house of 
the alealde at this moment than there 
are children at the carnival.” 

Devlan suddenly began to laugh with 
his friend. He straddled his machine and 
kicked the starter. When the engine 
caught with a roar, he turned to bid the 
captain farewell—and saw Sarita. She 
stood smi 
behind him, the light reflecting on her 
gold tooth. She waved, then turned and 
skipped along the pavement like a small 
child. 

Devlan watched the road very careful- 
ly until he was well outside Puerto 


Perdido. 


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189 


PLAYBOY 


THE PROCREATION MYTH (continued from page 106) 


what our sex lives are all about. 

The best place to begin is with the 
notion beloved by the Victorians that 
sex is not the same among human beings 
as it is among the other animals. People 
sexual habits 
are of a quality different from those of 
pigs and baboons. And the old idea is 
correct: Human sexuality is different 
from that of the lower animals—for, 
unlike virtually all other forms of animal 
life, man is endlessly preoccupied with 
sex. The affliction is relentless. From the 
point of view of any rational pig or 
baboon, man must seem a creature crazed 
with sex, a mad animal gripped by a 
t frenzy. There is no escaping 
mything else, man is a sexual 
being. Consider: The statistically average 
human male—assuming there is such a 
creature—will have sexual intercourse 
between 1000 and 10,000 times in his life. 
trapolating from Kinsey's figures, we 
cm put the mean somewhere around 
5000. He will masturbate in adolescence 
and afterward some 1000 times. He is 
able to have an orgasm (though not 
ejaculation) long before he is first con- 
scious of the experience. He is able 
to have an erection from the moment 
of birth and will do so 50,000 to 100,000 
times thereafter. In fact, he may be 
born with an erection and die with one. 
Beyond this, he kisses, hugs, engages 
occasional homosexuality. reads erotic 
books, goes to erotic movies and fanta- 
sizes endlessly about movie actresses, the 
girl in skintight jeans who just came 
into the classroom, visionary creatures 
invented by his own fertile imagination, 
boy scouts iu short pants and even 
those aforemenüoncd sheep, ducks and 
watermelons, 

"The sexual activity of his female con- 
sort is less direct. more subtle, but it is 
equally unremitting. She will have some- 
what less intercourse than he, She will 
masturbate a good deal less—in some 
cases, perhaps not more than a few 
dozen times. She will fantasize about sex 
much less often. Yet, on the other hand, 
she will spend a considerable portion of 
every day appointing and anointing her 
body to make herself as sexually attrac- 
tive as possible—scouring her teeth with 
abrasives, smoothing her skin with pow- 
ders, scenting the moist places of her 
body and fussing endlessly over the most 
minute details of her dress. This female 
obsession with appearance is unques- 
tionably as sexual as male erection. 
Even when a woman chooses the low- 
calorie silad plate instead of the lasagna, 
she is being driven by her sexual nature. 

It is important to understand that 


190 man’s preoccupation with sex is not so- 


cially conditioned, not something that 
has been beaten into us from birth nor 
squeezed out of us by the constrictions 
of our puritanical society. Our concern 
with sex is innate, as much a part of us 
as the blood and bone with which we 
were born. In most human societies out- 
side the so-called civilized world, every 
adult member of the group normally 
copulates at least once every 24 hour 
Our own puny rates of copulation would 
cause gleeful amazement in cultures such 
as thet of the Aranda of Australia, in 
which people often have intercourse three 
to five times nightly, the Thonga of 
Africa, in which it is not unusual for a 
man to make love to each of three or 
four wives in a single night, or the 
Chagga of Тац a, of whom one 
responsible authority reports that "inter- 
Course ten times in a single night is not 
unusual’—although perhaps not always 
with orgasm. (As a matter of fact, Kinsey 
turned up a number of American men 
who regularly average 25 sex acts a 
week.) It is obvious that our own com- 
paratively dismal copulatory record is not 
the natural human way but the result of 
centuries of selLimposed punitive atti- 
tudes toward sex. In nature, sex for 
humans is as regular as breakfast and 
sometimes lunch and dinner, too. Natu- 
rally, where thc act is frequent, you 
would guess that less attention is paid to 
it; but this does not alter the fact that 
а constant, unremitting concern with 
sex is as basic a part of human nature 
mal concern with 


as is the normal a 


food, air and. water. 

Now, lions are not always leering at 
lionesses on the veld, nor are their con- 
sorts constantly fussing with their fur. 
An endless preoccupation with sex is rare 
outside of the human being. No other 
mammal evidences it. Man's closest re- 
lations in the animal world, the great 
apes, are singularly unsexual creatures. 
This may surprise anybody who has 
spent any time in 2005, but it is true, 
nonetheless. In zoos, monkeys are prone 
to antics that make mothers hustle 
children off to the aviary; but new 
studies, most of them made within t 
past decade, dearly indicate that the 
behavior of captive animals is not noi 
mal behavior. 

Zoologists such as George Schaller, 
Jane Goodall and the pioneer C. R. 
Carpenter, operating on the rather plau- 
sible assumption that animals in zoos 
do not behave the same way they do in 
their natural habitats, have begun to find. 
ways of studying them in the wild, And 
they have consistently found that in 
nature, sex for many species is a far less 
pressing matter than it appears to be in 
zoos. Consider the work of Schaller, who 


has studied one of man's closest rela. 
tives, the mountain gorilla. By dint of 
patience and perseverance, Schaller was 
able to watch gorilla groups from very 
close hand—sometimes perching on а 
branch directly above them. In 466 hours 
of observation, he saw only two acts of 
copulation. By comparison, a similar 
study made on a group of Americans 
would reveal considerably more copula- 
tory acis. Gorilla females ave receptive 
to intercourse only three or four days a 
month and usually not at all in later 
stages of pregnancy or when nursing 
their young. Says Schaller, "Since most 
females are cither pregnant or lactating, 
the . . . males in the group may on 
occasion spend as much as a year without 
sexual intercourse,” 

But the sex lives of human beings 
differ from those of other mammals in 
more ways than mere frequency. For 
example, Homo sapiens is the only 
Known animal averse to copulation with 
5 offspring, and he is one of very few 
mammals to form permanent mateships. 
But possibly most important of all is the 
mammalian process of oestrus. 

All female mammals, with one excep- 
tion, go through phases of sexual activ- 
ity and passivity known as the oestrous 
суйе. (Oestrus should not be confused 
with menstruation, which is quite a dif- 
ferent thing and limited to the higher 
primates only.) The oestrous cycle is of 
the utmost importance to sexuality, be- 
cause it is entirely physiological—caused 
by the flow of various hormones alter- 
nating in sequence, which in turn are 
controlled by the hypothalamus, the 
tal regulatory center. Oestrus 
has nothing to do with how an animal 
was brought up: You can produce the 
process in the lab with a hypodermic full 
of hormone: 

During oestrus, the female mammal is 
not only willing but eager to copulate, 
In some species, she becomes positively 
nymphomaniacal during oestrus, forcing 
her attentions on one male after another 

1 a way that would leave most humans 
gasping for relief. It all sounds rather 
jolly until you realize that the stretches 
between oestrus periods can be long, 
indeed. Perhaps even worse off than the 
poor gorilla arc animals such as deer 
and bear, whose females come into 
oestrus only once a year. Even the oft- 
maligned cottontail rabbit is not inter- 
ested in copulation six months of the 
year. 

Few mammalian females will permit 
copulation when they are not in oestrus. 
In fact, males do not usually attempt it: 
Broadly speaking, mammalian males are 
aroused only by ше physical provoci 
tion of ocstrous females. Indeed, in the 
guinea pig and in the chinchilla, the va- 
gina is actually covered by a flap of skin 


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191 


PLAYBOY 


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tive period, making cop- 
ulation physically impossible. (Exceptions 
occur in some primates whose females 
may present themselves in a copulatory 
position to show submissiveness in order 
to placate an angry dominant male or 
to win his favor for a bit of food.) 

The oestrous cycle is a standard fca- 
ture of mammalian life—so standard 
that one could almost use it as a defi- 
nition. Almost, but not quite; because 
there is one species that docs without it. 
And that species, of course, is man, 

This is a fact of the uumost signifi- 
cance—as significant as the fact that we 
alone of all species make tools, have 
speech and can form abstract thought. 

"The creature we have come to call man 
almost certainly evolved from one of a 
group of jungle-dwelling apes present 
on earth during the Miocene era, About 
13,000,000 years ago, the Miocene ended 
and was succeeded, according to Robert 
Ardreys popular explanation, by а 
period of drought called the Pliocene, 
which lasted until 2,000,000 or so years 
ack. With the coming of the great 
Pliocene drought, the forest shrank and 
was replaced by broad, grassy savanna 
In increasing numbers, the great apes 
were deprived of the forest vegetation 
on which they had fed. Threatened with 
extinction, one group of beasts reacted 
by turning ever more to a dict of meat. 
Thus, there began to develop u 
unique creature, a carnivorous primate 
—man. 

An ape, lacking claws, fangs and speed 
of foot, is poorly equipped to hunt. In- 
deed, even should he make a kill, he has 
ns of getting at the meat 
inside the skin, as anybody who has tried 
to eat a deer whole will know. It was a 
quesion of adapt or die, and adapt 
he did. He evolved am erect posture 
that freed his hands for carrying weap- 
ons and allowed him to sce over the 
grass, an apposable thumb for using tools 
and, above all, an ever-enlarging brain. 
And at the same time, his female began 
to level out her oestrous cycle. Instead 
of being driven periodically to intense 
5 activity with long quiescent phases 
in between, she began to develop a 
pattern of steady but somewhat lower- 
level interest jn sex. The male, too, 
changed, so that instead of being 
sexually aroused only by an oestrous 
female, he able to be excited by a 
whole range of stimuli associated with 
women, but especially by the sight of 
the female genitals. 

Now, there is nothing automatic 
about evolution. No animal has ап in- 
ternal mechanism that it can call on to 
fix it up with horns or fangs to meet 
some change in its environment. Evolu- 
tion occurs only when some animal 
happens to be born better suited to the 


no real m: 


teeth 


environment t s fellows. Its 
are just a mite longer, its claws 
sharper, its pelvis a mite more suited to 
upright walking. It has an edge—and 
in the vast range of evolutionary time, 
even a minute edge will win out and 
spread through a species. 

Thus do species acquire mew traits. 
Furthermore, it’s obvious that a species 
can acquire only waits that have some 
kind of survival value—a more efficient 
means of feeding, better protection 
against predators or disease, an improved 
method for begetting and. nurturing ofi- 
spring. (According to evolutionary theory, 
it is possible in certain circumstances for 
a species to acquire traits that have no 
survival value, but these instances are 


rare) 

lt is clear that any trait that appears 
in the whole range of life is part of na- 
шге» plan. This is true of the oestrous 


cycle found in most mammals and it is 
equally true of the absence of oestrous 
periods in the human female. It was 
not philosophy nor experience that elim- 
inated the oestrous суйе from woman- 
kind: It was the great laws of life. And 
this is rather odd, for the oestrous cycle 
an extremely useful device—as, indeed, 
it must be, since it is so nearly universal 
among the mammals. Consider for а 
moment its virtues. 

First and most obvious, oestrus allows 
copulation to occur only when the [e- 
male is actually able to conceive. It is a 
kind of rhythm method in revers, 
which prevents sex during the safe ре 
ods and is obviously a much more 
eficient reproductive system than the 
helter-skelter breeding of humans. Sec- 
ond, the oestrous system permits the 
strongest males to do most of the breed- 
ing. When all the females in the wibe 
are available constantly, the harem is 
too extensive for the jealous leader to 
guard successfully; but when the females 
come into ocstrus only one or two at a 
time, the stronger animals can better 
dominate the sexual activity—for the 
general good of the species. Third, the 
oestrous system limits the amount of time 
the members of the group spend quar- 
reling over their females, courting and 
breeding, and thus enables them to de- 
vote most of their energies to more 
important pursuits, such as the search 
for food and the carc of the young. 

estrus, then, is an effective system. 
But man does not use it. He has evolved 
in a different way. In other mammals, 
cach act of copulation has a very high 
chance of leading to conception. In man, 
the ratio is reversed: Each act of ini 
course has very nearly the minimum 
chance of ending in reproduction. Indeed, 
man has put oestrus so far behind him 
that it is most difficult, even with modern 
medical techniques, for him to tell with 


any real accuracy when the ripe egg is 
moving through the Fallopian tube and 
the female will be able to conceive. It is 
s if nature had deliberately gone out of 
her way to hinder man from obtaining 
maximum procreative efficiency. There 
no way around it: The human reproduc- 
tive method is extraordinarily wasteful 
and inefücienL And unless wc are to 
ndon all we know about cvolution, wc 
are driven to admit that it has be 
designed that way by the laws of life 
The plan—God’s plan, if you wish—i 
that men should copulate at will, wi 
no thought of reproduction. 

This is not to say, of course, that st 


has nothing to do with breeding. Nature 
is conservative: It 


es to make one 
mechanism serve many functions when 
it can, like the clock on my desk that 
also serves as a paperweight, For man's 
precursors, those dimly seen apes hidden 
in the shadows of 10,000,000 years, sex 
was no doubt basically reproductive. Bur 
through those millions of years, the ele- 
ment of pleasure increased by infinitesi- 
mal degrees, until we can say today that 
reproduction is only a secondary function 
of sex. The original mammalian brain 
was merely a kind of message center driv- 
ng the animal through more or less 
automatic responses. The human brain 
still performs this function, but it also 
has the added and humanly distinctive 
capability of abstract thought—similarly, 
with human sexuality. 

After all, the human race could do 
enough breeding in a month to perpetu- 
ate the species, Even in thc bad old 
day ly man, with his stone 
axes and small brain, was losing some 
75 percent of his offspring before they 
reached maturity, one birth a year per 
woman was enough to bring about grad- 
ual population increase. Man never did 
need this surging, endless preoccupation 
with sex merely to perpetuate the species. 

Let me make it clear that I do not 
mean something mystic—some mysteri 
ous drive or life force, When I say that 
as man evolved he abandoned the 
oestrous system, I am referring to physi- 
cal facts having to do with hormone 
flow and pituitary 
glands, nerves and brain—the a 
of his body—have been set, 
not yet understand, by evolutionary proc 
esses to give him a constant sex life for 
a purpose other than reproduction. 

What, then, is that purpose? At this 
stage in the study of the evolution of 
man's sexual patterns, we can do noth- 
ng more than make what are, we hope, 
shiewd guesses; but the answer, like so 
many other answers about the human 
being, almost certainly lies in his life as 
а carnivorous pris 


when 


c. 
lt is generally accepted that carly 


193 


194 


"What's happening to our lakes and rivers is one 


- Carstatr: 


question, Mr 


Another que: 


lion. is why we're 


throwing away perfectly good toxic irritants.” 


man lived in groups of 30 to 80 men, 
women and children, which wandered 
bout over a fairly large атса of plain; 
the women and children gathering roots, 
nuts, eggs and whatever else edible they 
came across, while the men hunted any- 
thing there was to hunt. We know that 
large anin 
s the woolly mammoth, an elepha 
beast that stood nine and one half feet 
tall at the shoulder. It would have taken 
a concerted effort by а large number of 
men 10 hunt down and dispatch a beast 


was eatin 


this size. It has been estimated that à 
band of this type would have needed a 
range of perhaps £ es cach way, and 
it follows thar given the exigencies of the 
chase, the group would often have be- 
come scattered, with the women and 
children left hours, and perhaps even 
i, unprotected from the kirge cats 
shared the land. These 
сиз—сайу versions of the leopard, 
among others—found the children of 


with whom е 


ts 


the twolegged h зу picki 

in fact, the skull of a child 
1.000.000 years аро died 
ne teeth of a leopard in his 
But for an animal of any size, fac- 
ing а group of men equipped with hand 
axes, sharply pointed sticks, perhaps even 
slings, was a different matter entirely. 
By perhaps 1,000,000 years ago, man 
had become the king of beasts, uncon 
querable by any living thing—as long 
as he worked, played, hunted, fought and 
died in groups. For the human being, 
the group was crucial. Outside it, there 
was no survival; fragmented, its members 
were picked off one by one. But drawn 
together 1 sys 
tem, the group became an all-conquering 


We have 
who some 


into a rudimen 


y so 


force, a power so mighty thar within 
sliver of universal time, it has turned 
forests into desert and back again and 
recklessly driven into extinction one 
species after another, The power of man 
in groups is awe-inspiring and the gine 


that has kept the group together is sex 
The pleasure of sex is the basis of society 
The key necessity, for the several mil 
lion years of man’s existence, has bee 
to keep the men with the women and 
children, What, for example, was 10 
stop the hunters, once they had made the 
kill, fom camping there in the wilder: 
they were replete? Who among 
us would look forward to dragging а ton 
of raw back home over 25 miles 
of rocky plain to a cave full of nattering 
women and squalling babies? 

There must have been a reason for 
going home, and the one that comes 
to mind, of course, is sex. It follows 
that groups in which the women were 
most often available for sex had a sur- 
vival edge—an adaptive advantage. That 
is to say, the longer that the women in 
the tribe were in oestrus, the bigger the 
survival factor. (By the opposite token, 
those men who decided to skip the п 
home and have sex with cach other ¢ 
not reproduce, so in an evolution. 
nse, homosexuality was а neg 
trail.) Accordingly, the oestrous cycle 
lengthened and lengthened at both 
ends, until it finally met at the middle. 
And if you want to have a little specula- 
tive fun with the theory, you сап guess 
thar the explanation for the tendency 
among many women to be more sexually 
d around mensuuation—before 
imply that at these points 
ng of the now-vanished 


ess unt 


me: 


ius 
and after—i 
lies the Бе 


oestrous period. 
nd so, finally, we are faced with the 
pable that the primary func- 
tion of sex in human lives is to provide 
pleasure. What does it all mean? Simply, 
that any ethical code based on the theory 
at the primary function of sex is re- 
production is built on quicksand. Two 
thousand years of Judaco-Christian effort 
to get human beings to copulate only to 
procreate has failed precisely because the 
dogmatists had the facts wrong. You сап 
insist that the world is flat if you like— 
but you will never discover America if 
you do. Equally, as long as we continu 
to base our sexual phi 
tific untruth 


are 


»ophy on a sci 


we will continue to pla 


ourselves with bad тан Шері 
mate children, med: inept 
intercourse and all the other ills our 


unhappy ethic has brought us. Reason 
is strong; man is strong. But he c 
fly in the fice of nature, because he is 
part of nature. The evidence points to a 
defensible, scientifically valid 
that in human beings, the purpose of sex 
is pleasure; and on that realization we 
must build our sex code for the next 


millennium. 


THE VERY ВІСН continued fron page 114) 


up: There were no extras, no tax, no 
tips That included girls, too, and he 
would look into that in due time. As a 
matter of fact, he did have a wife and 
was expecting her to join him in a week 
So make hay before the rains came. And 
make it with Désirée, too—she was act- 
ing very much like а lady on the make. 


Albert Hunsicker, as soon as they 
were in their room, took his wife 
clumsily in his arms and kissed her. “We 


should have 
suite," he said. 


been given the bridal 
They were both over 50 
ried for 27 years; yet, 
there w and pathetic gallantry 
in his statement. Their mariage was 
finally on the rocks, after all those years 
of bitterness and rcerimination— Albert 
had never ceased to marvel at the fire 
and viciousness in little Mary. They had 
had a grand confrontation, right down 
to the bare nerve and hated; and there 
had been a voiding of poisons. They 
would give it one more chance and 
both would honestly try to gaim back 
what they had once had. This vacation 
was where they would do it. 
"You're sweet 10 say that, AL" Mary 
: and suddenly, she buried her gray 
head in his shoulder and he could feel 
her trembling. “Oh, Al,” she whispered, 
“oh, God, let's get to be in love again!" 


“We will Mary, we will! Well for 
get the past, all that’s ever happened. 


We'll start all over 

She searched his face. There were 
tears in her eyes. “We can do it, can't 
we, Al, if we really try?” she asked. "We 
1 get it back?” 

“Oh, we can.” he s 

As for Martin and Laurie Duga 
There is really no need to describe wh 
went on in their room. 


wopi- 
cal downpour engulfed the resort, with 
izzling bolts of lightning. stupefy- 
huge dangerous winds and 
nprobable quantities of water. At nine 
o’dock, the lights went out and candles 
were produced. 
adle: 


Woodrough cried 
n this place hasn't pot a 
power plant 

It was hit even before 
plant,” Montenegro expl 


the m 
ined. “We have 


never had such a storm. 
Actually, it worked out very well. 
Dancing to the excellent combo by can- 


dlclight, while the elements » 
quely romantic and int 
there were no further compl 
tin and Laurie, of course, were in their 
own world, and the Hunsickers could 
not have hoped for anything morc aus- 
picious. Pete and Désirée discovered 
great merit in each other. 

It was only the next morning—bright, 
hot and steaming—that the cxient of 


the disaster was revealed to them. They 
were driven from their rooms by the 
sticky heat and Montenegro joined them 
at the breakfast table. 

“I do not know how to apologize," he 
said. “It is a calamity. I am up all night 
The entire elecuical system is knocked 
out. You will have noticed that the air 
conditioning is gone." 


“You're goddamn right we noticed.” 
Du; i 


id. 

the refrigeration, of course. 
The food will not keep. Oh, 1 am so 
embarrassed.” 

"Well send for the par 
rough said. 

"The radio is utterly destroyed," Mon- 
tenegro said, almost cringing. “There is 
no phone. Anyway, it would be useless. 
Have you жеп the landing strip? A 
hundred trenches six feet deep.” 
Hunsicker 


" Wood- 


hen send a car over," 


4. 

“Mr. H there no 
That was how we could keep this place so 
secret—it was all built by air, An engi- 
neering marvel!” Then he collapsed. 


nsicker, Toad. 


“But now. 1. Not even somewhere 
for a road to go to. We are nowhere.” 

"Where are we, anyway?" Woodrough 
asked. “Tell us where we are. Maybe 1 
can do something.” 

“There is nothing you can do,” Mon- 
tenegro said mournfully, “There is noth- 
ing anyone can do. We arc cut off from 
the world. 

“Boy, oh. boy," Dugan said, slamming 
down his coffee cup. “This is just what 
I was hoping to find for my eight hu 
dred and sixty bucks a day on my honey- 
moon.” He leaned over menacingly to 
Montenegro. “You tell me just how soon 
you can get us out of her 

“OF course, your money will be re- 
funded" Montenegro said, Then he 
seemed to take on a little more dignity, 
even a little authority, “But there is no 
way for you to get out of here, Mr. 
Dugan. No way whatsoever." 

Later, they were seated u 
umbrella on the terrace, in 100-degree 
hear and 96 percent humidity: the air 
ness; all were drenched 
sweat. There was mud over everything: 
the beach had been washed into the 
lake. Most of the palm trees were down; 


der а beach 


was mo 


“This one reads ‘Best wishes from the 
boys on the vice squad.” 


195 


PLAYBOY 


ar had lost its roof; many win- 
dows were broken and debris littered 
the lawn. Hunsicker was trying to col 
lect his bet from Dugan. 

“You say you know this area—well, 
take a good look. Where in this hemi- 
sphere do you find live volcanoes in a 
jungle? Nicaragua and nowhere else. 
We're in Central America and you owe 
me a thousand dollars. 

Dugan said doggedly: "I want to hear 

it from somebody who really knows. 
‘Then you'll have your lousy grand.” 
But nobody is going to tell you, 
ing,” Laurie suggested sweetly. "It's 
their gimmick to keep the location se- 
ce. 

They looked toward the Jake: they 
saw the ruined beach and they saw 
something else: The surface was w 
with the corpses of thousands of fish, 
bellies up. 

“My God, all the fish are dying! 

“They must have been elecuocuted by 
the ligh 

"Well, 
asked. 

Black humor was still possible at this 
stage. 


anyone for a swim?" Dugan 


A couple of days later, it was no long- 
cr possible. 

When the roof tanks ran out, there 
was no longer any running water, hot or 
cold, since it was pumped by clectricity. 
"The staff toted pails of lake water to the 
rooms and they used it to bathe and to 
flush the toilets. They did not drink it: 
It tasted of dead fish and sulphur. 

The heat and humidity were driving. 
them fran ng their sleep and 
wearing their nerves raw. 

Bread was the first food to go. "We 
bake our own daily,” Montenegro ex- 
plained at the fourth breakfast. “In elec- 
tric ovens. And, alas, this will be the last 
eggs and the last cream or milk.” He 
spoke almost cheerfully and was appar- 
ently going light in the head from worry 
and overwork. 

At lunch, he announced the last of 
the meat, the butter and the vegetables. 
“Everything is thawed and rotting; it 
must be thrown out. It is already pretty 


I have a question,” Martin Dugan 
broke in. “You said you were expec 
so шапу guests this week—well why 
aren't the planes coming in or trying to 
come in?" 

“Perhaps the plane has developed en- 
gine trouble," Montenegro said vaguely. 
You have only one plane?" Wood- 
rough asked in disbelief. 

“They were late on the delivery,” 
Montenegro said. “Maybe now the three 


others are delivered, 


"Then why aren't they trying to come 
ed. “There's some- 
ny here. You can 


thing goddamn fu 


196 rent planes. Why aren't those other guests 


being flown down here and finding out 
they can’t land and getting the word back 
to New York that we're in trouble, so 
they can send down an amphibian and 
bail us out? Why isn't anybody trying to 
get us out of this mess?” 

"Yes, it is very strange,” Montenegro 


admitted, as vaguely as before “I do not 
understand it myself. If only we had the 
radio. . . .” And he wandered off. 


That man is ready for the funny 
farm,” Pete declared. 

Later that afternoon, determined to 
get some enjoyment out of this vacation, 
the Dugans made an effort to avail 
themselves of the facilities offered: They 
hooked a fishing wip, having been as- 
sured that the dead fish were along only 
the shore, not out where the big ones 
were. 

“Tell me about these big ones,” Mar- 


tin said to the captain as they were 
pulling ош. “Freshwater fish don't get 
very big.” 

‘Oh, these are beeg, señor,” the cap- 


tain said. "An' fight! In this lake only 
in whole worl’, Are call puaxtlotl. Two 
hunnert, буе hunnert poun’. Taste good, 
too.” 

“Well, we sur 
food,” Laurie said. 

‘The charter boat got them well out of 
sight of the hotel and then quit. The 
captain took up floor boards, cursed and 
muttered; after an hour, he reported 
that he could do nothing. 

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Martin said. 
"]s there going to be any one single 
goddamn thing that is right about this 
place? Well, get them on the ship-to- 
tell "em to send another boat 


can use some fresh 


shor 
out.” 


the 


can send, they can mo hear 
in announced. 

fou mean we're stuck out here?” 
Laurie demanded. “Why, it must be a 
hundred and ten when were not 
moving.” 

The captain could only look apolo- 
getic. 

“We're supposed to be back by din- 
ner,” Martin said. “Is there any food 
aboard, by any chance?” 

“No, señor, no food.” 

And so they sat there through the hot 
afternoon, prickling with the heat. They 
could not even fish, since one trolls for 
the puaxtlotl. Martin scverely damaged 
his young marriage by going swimming 
in his shorts: Laurie could not do the 
same. At dusk, a swarm of sand flies 
attacked them; all night, they battled 
the mosquitoes, Nerves were lacerated; 
tempers rose and were lost; cruel words 
were exchanged. By morning, the Dugan 
marriage had suffered fatal injuries. 

During this time, Woodrough, too, 
attempted to usc a facility th 
hinted at in the Paradise Plage 
ture, He approached Montenegro pri- 
vately and inquired whether that tall 


cap 


hostess in the cocktail bar, the one with 
the big tits, would be interested in ha 
ing a litle drink in his room alter 
things closed down. 

“But certainh " Montenegro said. 
“I can assure you that she will, You 
could not have made a better choice." 

“Have her come up to my room about 
midnight," Woodrough said. "And have 
all the usual stuff there—champagne, c 
após, tape recorder with the 1 
you know. Might as well try to salvage 
something out of this ungodly disaster." 
You are quite right, sir" Montene- 
gro said. "Of course, there is no ice. 

“Well, send up cognac. 

“And canapés—perhaps some saltines 
and peanut butter? 
“Oh, my God.” 
‘And our tape recorders run only on 

house current, alas.” 

Well, damn it, send up the girl, any- 
way.” Woodrough had never even spoken 
with this gil, but he was certain she had 
the class that he demanded: tall, grace- 
ful, with the sullen, smoldering quality 
that always inflamed him. Probably half- 
Spanish, half-Indian. 

Midnight came and went, but the girl 
came not. At 12:45, there was a тар on 
his door and he Jet her in, She was not 
elegantly dressed, as he had had every 
right to expect, but wore a skirt and 
blouse. 

"Tt ain't my fault I'm late,” she said. 
“I hadda stay in the bar till that old 
couple got too drunk to keep on 
fight: Tt was a voice from darkest 
Brooklyn—a rude shock. 

“Please come in," Woodrough said. 
“May I pour you a snifter of this excel 
lent Rémy Martin?” 

"You gotta be kiddin'," she said. “1 
spend all day inhalin’ that slop. Well, 
let's get it over with. That'll be eighty 
bucks.” 

Woodrough was outraged. The amount 
did not bother him—it was the principle: 
Everything was supposed to be on the 
house. More important, the girl was sim- 
ply impossible He knew how these 
things should be managed and it wasn't 
like this. 

As a matter of fact, Гус changed my 
d,” he said. “I shan't be need: 
tonight, You can run along.” 

“Whatsa matter, sport?” she asked. 
“The price take all the starch оша ya? 
You ain't jewin' me down, if that’s what 
you're hopin’.” She watched him keenly 
for a few seconds, then opened the door. 
“Boy, сусп an expensive joint like this 
gets its quota of cheap bastards, don't 
it?” And she was gone. Woodrough drank 
cognac alone and paced the room a lot. 

The Hunsickers, the first guests down 
to breakfast on the fifth morning, were 
also the first to learn of the new calam- 
ity that had struck during the 
They found an almost hysterical Mon- 
tenegro trying to set the 


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PLAYBOY 


198 ding reception. W: 


his voice near b “Everybody—I 
lone am left There was no presenta- 
on of grievances or other formality. 
They just disappeared into the jungle, 
all of them, in their uniforms. Maybe 
they think the uniforms will make them 
chiefs and queens in their villages. 
7I can’t believe it,” Mary said faintly. 
“It took months to train. them—you 
anor imagine how filthy and irrespon- 
ble these Indi: Yow they have 
un away when things got tough. Even 
the American hooker in the bar. Even my 
assistant The dharterboat captain. has 
stolen the boat,” 

Mary began to cry noisily 


ns are. 


nd AL 


хо her, “Oh, leave off, will you? C. 
you ever rise то ап occasion 
Montenegro 


boat—they didn't come 
It must be broken down out there. 

“Then there is no way to get them,” 
Montenegro wailed. 

"No other boat on the place?” Hun- 

cr asked. 

Yes, one more t 
I cannot drive.” 

"Well, 1 can dr 1 Woodrough, 
who had come in while this was going 
on. "Show me the bo. 

Tr was a fast outboard, luckily, and 
Woodrough rescued the Dugans just in 
time for lunch. At the table, the newly- 
weds continued a quarrel they had 
parently started on the fishing wip: How 
had they ever got to. Hellhole Plage 
the first place? 

“It was your idea 
know it w 
heard of the p 
It was me goddamn father.” M. 
declared. “Gave us the honeymoon for 
our wedding present. We were supposed 
to open the envelope on the way to the 
airport. "Course, when I opened it and 
saw the name, I knew what it was all 
about. Boy, what a pr lling 
to pay to unload you 

“Oh,” Mary Hunsicker said, “ 
ding present? Nor ус 
dred and sixty bucks 
you're гейша: 
you owe him. 

“How the hell could you have opened 
the envelope, Mr, Know-It-All?” said h 
bride. “You were driving.” 

"I was d 

“Well, who else, stupidi” 

"Boy, I must've been really drunk,” 
Martin sai thought you were driv. 


did not sink, but 


е," 


id. "T 
n't my idea, EES I never 


wed- 
r own eight hi 
a day? No wonder 
ıt to pay my husband what 


ivin 


ber 
asked 
intense, throbbing voice. 
No, not me," Laurie said. "I had to 
drug myself to get through the cereme 


gening on the 


m a peculiarly 


Martii "Me nci. 
i've been some wed. 
ıs there a reception?" 


ther,” aid. 


y. that n 


This gave him a big yak; no one else 
saw much humor in it and Désiréc's 
expression was grave and abstracted. 

After the meager and sweaty lunch, 
Woodrough took Désirée Brooks aside. 
“I've seen faces peering in at us from 
the jungle,” he said. "Already they know 
that this place is in trouble. Ii I were one 
of those savages, ГА start. figuring how I 
could get a piece of it, too. Listen: I'm 
going to try to get through to Montene- 
He's holed up in his room and I 
k he's gone off his rocker. I'd appre- 
te it if you'd sort of stand by and be 
ready to help out," 
е felt a great upwelling of pride 
nd affection. "Oh, Pete,” she said. There 
was that quality of melting and surrender 
in her manner that commanded Pete to 
take her in his ad kiss her. “Oh, 
Pete,” she whispered 

"Oh, baby,” he whispered. “Oh, 1 do 

1 you 

He went 
found him 
his back in 
knees di 


rms 


w 


to Montenegro's room and 
crouched on his bed with 
the corner of the room, his 
up to his chin, his hands 
h wall. 
st on а chair and said 
gently, "Mr. Montenegro, 1 am you 
friend. Please believe me. Now, we need 
certain things that are locked up. so I 
маш you to give me the keys.” 
Montenegro's eyes went wide with ter- 
ror and he drew back. Anyone who 
wanted his keys was clearly ап enemy. 
Apparently, he was 
full-blown psychosis. 


п the grip of a 


"OK," Woodrough said. “Don't be 
worried, Mr. Montenegro, 1 am your 
friend. Take it easy.” 


He went back to Désirée. "He's been 
ht to guard his keys.” he reported, 
ond now h The guns are 
locked up somewhere—we'll never. get 
them. We'll have to arm ourselves with 
tchets, knives, 
ing look came over 
ıd he said, "I am dumfounded 


insane. 


hammers, 
his face a 


that ап elaborate establishment like this 
could simply disintegrate in а few d 

мо nothing” "Then he saw that a 
change had come over Désirée: She had 


ifed. 
said, in a 


become serene and somehow c 

“It doesn't mauer,” she 
range tone. 

"Have you gone loco, too?" he cri 
“Those Indians out there mean busin 
They'll probably attack tonigh 
kill us.” she said calmly. 


“They won 
hey can't kill us 
“The hell they can't! 
"Pete, don't you understand? We're 
already dead." 

She saw the look on his face and she 
aid, "No, I'm not crazy. It's true. Thin 
about it. Everything thats happened 
here—even the manager going conven- 
iently insane. Pete, this is all planned.” 

“Darl he murmured, "what are 
you trying to say?” 


s who gave me the 
final clue, when they couldn't remember 
getting on the plane. All of us have a 
з our lives, just before this 
wip. Pete, tell me what happened after 
your heart attack. АП the details. From 
then until now.” 

After the heart attack, they kept me 
on heavy sedation for a month.” Pete 
sid, "so, of course, I don't remember 
that period. But then my first vice-pres 
dent came out to the house and told me 
about this vacation they'd cooked up for 
me and, in fact, he drove me to the 
. I can remember geuing on the 


А month on sedation for a 
serious heart attack?” Désirée asked. 
“Does that sound likely to. you? And 
then this expensive sick leave docs that 


‘nothing 


" She took him in her 
1 compassionately, "Dar- 
ling, it’s not so bad, once you know it 
and accept it; I've found that out 
ready. After the Dugans said what they 
alized that there was a big 
з my life, too, I accepted it 
hiv” A laugh that 


empty space 
nd began to live wi 
was not quite а laugh perhaps а sob. 
"Thats good, "ive with it" 

She looked up now into his [ace and 
found what seemed to be a strong, sto- 
ical acceptance of her terrible insight. In 
point of fact, Woodrough was masking 


some nutty obsession. He stared across 
her shoulder, across the empty and dark- 


ening room, out the window and across 
the lake toward the fuming, hellish vol- 
canoes on the horizon, with their coro- 


nas of red. He did not for onc 
believe thar he was dead. He w 
and he knew it. His immediate problem. 
however, was to gain this woman's sym- 
pithy and confidence. 

“1 don't feel dead," 
feigned uncertainty. 

And she replied, "How could we ku 
how the dead feel?” 
f what you believe is true," 
feeling foolish. dishonest and ashamed, 
“then the Hunsickers will have had the 
same experience.” 

"Lets look for them,” 
gravely. “They'll have had it 

They kissed: then, the 
cach other, they went in 
Hunsickers. Things w ing so well 
that Woodrough could permit himself 
the indelicare reflection: If this really is 
an afterlife, this is a hell of a lot better 
way to be spending it than in the com- 
pany of my wife. 

They passed into the dining room 
and saw the Hunsickers and the Dugans 
scared at а tible in the twilight, amid a 
clutter of tin cans and liquor bottles. 
‘The evening inshore breeze carried to 


пап. 
live 


s 


he said, with 


until now, 


he said, 


Désirée said 


ms around 
search of the 


.... toawild little Blueberry. 


eS 3 
MURIEL, 
MURIEL | TIPALET. 


| E 
/ 


PACK OF FIVE 


Muriel makes more different kinds of small cigars than anybody. 
That's why we're the big name in small cigars. 


199 


Ы 
е 
n 
» 
& 
ы 
а 


“That's what I was telling you about, Professor. Money 
no longer motivates our generation.” 


them an overpowering stench of rotting 
fish but no relicf from the heat. 

"They sat down at the table and dis- 
covered at once that all four were 
drunk. 

“Where you been, you two?" Martin 
d, leer Jus have 
а drin! 


ng his 
role, “I'm trying to put together how we 
сусг got into this mess. Tell me, Mary, 
did you and Al decide on this vacation 
together?” 


You picked 


nd then we do 
ied to Al. 


wants to do 
Woodrough t 
out this place?” 


“T'I have to take the blame. It sound- 
ed great. I forget where I heard about it 
and the travel agents couldn't. help me 
—they really keep it exclusive, I had to 
deal direct with the New York office.” 


ing,” Mary said prompt- 
ly. “Old Commodore Hunsicker here 
massages his ego by getting into a speed- 
boat and scaring the sailboats in Long 
Island Sound. They should be scared, 
too, because the old idiot is dead-drunk 
the whole time. And I'm dead-drunk, be- 
cause that's the only way I can put up 
with him. 

You were along on the boat trip?" 
asked. 

Im always along,” Mary answered. 
“He has to have me along to show off 
to. 

Désirée asked very gently, “And do 
you remember coming back from that 
boat trip?” 

Not me,” Mary stated. 
ut you remember,” Woodrough said 
to Al Al looked embarrassed and said 
nothing. 
When he gets stoned,” his wife said, 
с hasn't the vaguest іса where he's 
been or what he’s done. Which is usu- 
ally something utterly obnoxious." 

Pete turned to Désirée. “You' 
he said. “It’s the same with them. 

"What's the same with us?” Hunsick- 
er demanded. 

Woodrough told them, skillfully play- 
ng, citing all the “evidence.” 
nd was met with disbelief and deri- 
sion, of course. 

It doesn't matter Désirée said to 
Pete. “Let them find out in their own 
time.” 

The hooting and scoffing continued, 
and then it ceased and all of them 
jumped to their feet and ran out to the 
terrace. They had all heard the noise of 
a plane motor. A small amphibian was 
circling and about to land. The Hun- 
sickers and the Dugans skipped about, 
shouted, waved their arms, hugged each 
other. The plane taxied through the rim 


of dead fish to the dock. A man stepped 
out and came up the lawn toward them. 

“Why, that’s Johnny Delmonico, the 
rock singer!” Laurie cried. “I'd know 
him anywhere!” 

And then they looked at each other 
with terror and despair. It was Désirée 
who put it calmly into words: “Johnny 
Delmonico is dead. We all read it in the 
paper the day we left—we were talking 
about it on the plane. An automobile 
accident in Mexico City. 

White-faced, Martin Dugan turned to 
his bride. “It’s uue,” he whispered. “It 
must have happened on the way to the 
airport.” 

Mary Hunsicker began to sob quietly; 
Al turned away and stared stonily at the 
mountains. Pete and Désirée put their 
arms about cach other. 

Johnny Delmonico came up to them. 
He did not bother to introduce himself. 
‘Boy, have they been worried about 
jou!" he exclaimed, “Is everybody OK? 
Just look at that landing strip! Where's 
the manager? 

No one answered. Finally, Al Hun- 

sicker said, "Make yourself at home, 
Delmonico. Welcome to the land of the 
dead." 
o, I can't stay,” said Delmonico. 
sotta get right back or itll be too dark 
to land. But you all seem to be OK.” He 
looked around. “Boy, is this place a 
mess! Been dynamitn the fish, huh? 
Where's all the staff?” He turned to go. 
“Don't worry, they'll send a rescue plane 
in the morning. Sorry, I can’t take you 
now, but my plane won't hold but one 
person. ГЇЇ let ‘em know you're all 
right.” He strode back down the slope, 
got into his plane, revved up and flew 
off down a valley. The whole visit had 
lasted less than ten minutes. They 
watched until he was gone. 

“That was to make sure we know," 
Désirée said. "And to give us false hope. 
There won't be a planc tomorrow. John- 
ny Delmonico is flying back to his par- 
ticular hell." 

For long moments, even Pete Wood- 
rough’s private conviction was shaken. 
Then he came back to a firm belief that 
Delmonico was alive. He knew there 
had to be a natural, rational answer to 
this. Exactly what that answer might be, 
he couldn't begin to guess—maybe the 
newspapers had been wrong—but he 
knew in every fiber that he himself was 
alive. He also knew that if he was ever 
to possess Désirée, he would have to 
keep up his game of make-believe. 

"They all went back inside and, by tacit 
consent, did not sit down again at the 
table. They went to their rooms and got 
their pails and felt their way down to the 
like shore two by two and, carefully 
avoiding the putrefying fish, scooped up 
buckets of water, foreseeing the needs of 
the morning. 


And Pete and Désirée slept together 
that night. 

Désirée was right: No plane came the 
next day. 

“Things will go from bad to worse,” 
she said. 

For lunch on this sixth day, they went 
to the pantry. There were canned goods 
and nothing much else. Beans, carrots, 
pe more beans, spa- 
ghetti and noodles; fortunately, also gou- 
lash, hot dogs, Spam, sardines. They 


made their selection and hunched 
around thcir table, in the ghastly empti 
ness and silence of the dining room, 


mopping the sweat from their faces with 
paper napkins 

"That afternoon, Désirée moved in with 
Pete and they celebrated the event ap- 
propriately. Afterward, she said, with real 
fear in her voice, "Oh, I'm scared, Pete 
Im scared because I'm too happy. Some- 
how, this will be taken away from us— 
it has to be.” For the first time, she cried. 

To Pete, the happiness they had 
found with each other was proof po: 
tive they were alive and well and living 
in anywhere but hell. But he said noth 
ing about this and continued to humor 
her. And why not? he asked himself: 
That tactic was paying off handsomely. 

During dinner (Spam and canned 
macaroni), the candles ran out, Each 
had brought down the only one he had; 
all burned out within a minute of each 
other, 

Woodrough felt his way to Monte 
negro's room. It was dark and stifling; 
there was the stench of feces in the air, 
so strong that Woodrough chose not to 
enter. 

“Mr. Montenegro,” he said through 
the door, “please tell me where there 
are some candles.” There was no answer. 
Woodrough spoke again; again no 
swer. Finally, he entered the room, and 
then he went back to the others, “Mon- 
tenegro is dead,” he reported. 
“How can he be dead?” Martin 
You can't die around here. 
part of the staff, you can 


n- 


sked. 


There was nothii 


ig to do. They stum- 
bled up to their rooms, sat in the dark- 
ness for a while, complaining, weeping, 
cursing and drinking, and went to bed 
early. 

Before breakfast on the seventh morn- 
ing, they discovered the new complica 
tion of their lives: The savages had 
struck. The larder was almost empty. 
They had crept in during the night and 
had carried off nearly all the food, in- 
cluding all the canned meat and fish. 
The guests were now virtually without 
protein. 

"You sce?" 
heir function 


Désirée said to Pete. 


ir is not to kill us but 


201 


PLAYBOY 


202 


to make us тйустаЫс,” 

“But this ds 
"They'll come back and w 
outnumbered. We'll have to 
remaining food 10 our rooms." 

"They did so. 

At lunch that day (vegetable stew), 
the Hunsickers and the Dugans drunk, 
they discussed their predicament. “Every 
day, something else will go wrong. 
Désirée “First the electric lights 
went, then the air conditioning, then the 
ning water, then the fresh food, then 
the service, Шеп Montenegro. Very soon, 
the canned food will run out, then 
wor and you can no longer blunt the 
edge of it. Then the insect repellent, the 
toilet paper, the soap. Night after night, 
the Indians will pick this place clean 
and we can do g to stop it. Ou 
dothes will rot and the bed linen, Al- 
ways at the lust minute, when things 
have become unbearable, rescue of some 
sort will come.” She repeated the word, 
with a bitter chuckle: “Rescue!” 


Pete said. 
"re hopelessly 
all the 


said. 


t 


Martin » burst suddenly into 
high laughter and it was half a minute 
before he could sty what was on his 


mind. “That bet. Central 
Hunsicker, we aren't in Cent 
ca. You owe me a thousand bucks. Come 
оп, pay up, you cheap welsher.” 

Al had been drinking more than car- 
ing and saying nothing. Now he raised 


his eyes and one saw in them the de- 
no his 


spair and the ror. He rcached 
pocket and pulled out a check. “Th 
cashier's check for fwvenly thousa 


s is 
d. 
He endorsed it and tossed it across the 
ble. "There's your lousy thousand." 
he said thickly, "and another nineteen 
thousand, It’s all yours. You got your 
And now, what ya gonna do 
with it, you silly bastard?” And he, too, 
burst into la ty and prolonged. 
= Woodrough’s worst moment: 
watching this idiocy take place while he 
said nothing. 

ways the most enterprising, that 
afternoon Woodrough sought a solution 
to the problem of illumination. He found 
neither candles, flashlights nor lanterns; 
but he did find à drum of kerosene апа. 


le up lamps of wicks floating in а 
, which he distributed to each couple, 
ing room and to the Kitch 


ioralization 
the rooms 


He noticed a progressive det 
The men had not shaved: 


“T think we must have passed the kissing 
stone some way back, Muriel!” 


were in complere disorder; all except 
Désirée were drunk. 
No опе went down to the dinin 


room for dinner that night. Two by two. 
they crouched over their feeble, fouk 
smelling lamps and ate from their cans 
па drank their bourbon or gin. 
On the eighth morning, they learned 
that the Indians had. of course, raided 
them again. No one had thought to save 
the liquor supply: Now it appeared to 
be gone, every last bottle that was not 
upstairs. 
“They'll get themselves into а druni 
y wailed. “They'll mui 


you get it through your stupid 
head," her husband snarled, “thar we 
1 be murdered: 
s something I don't under- 
stand," Laurie said. “What would hap- 
pen if 1 stabbed myself in the heart?" 

They were in the kitchen; М; 
held out to her a large ki “Try 
he said. 

“Boy, ате you fun 
contempt. 

“You'd * 
hideous pain.” 

At d ime, 
that the Hunsick led the food 
that they had carried upstairs as their 
personal property and refused to share 
it, Harsh words were exchanged and 
very nearly blows. 

Once again by themselves, the H 
sickers took up their private quarrel 
“I backed you up on the food there, 
Mary “because I don't like those 
iy more than you do. But 
ly. of course, you are completely 
the wrong, as usual.” 
d Al: "By God, I'm dau 
truly dau » I think of 
nity of what I've already had to endure 
for twenty-seven years." 

Only Pete and Désirée were at peace. 
They lay in each other's arms, happy 
and unmindful of the he 

“Darling, do you il 
older?" she asked. 

"E don't see how that could be possi- 
^" he answered, 

Anything is possible," she answered 
somberly. "We could get just enough 
older for you to stop loving me and 
then stop.” 

aby, I'll never stop loving you, по 
matter what happens,” Pete whispered, 
“Never 

And the ev 
were the c 


nin 
ite 


d with 


Désirée told her, “in 


beca 


me apparent 


we will get 


bk 


ng and the mon 
hth day of eternity. 


g 


On the ninth day, carly, the big old 
PBY23A squashed down on the lake and 
taxied up to the dock and about 20 
people climbed ош. All of the dead 
souls were still asleep, but they woke up 
when they heard the engines and rushed 
out to their balconies. Thus, Mrs. Peter 
Woodrough's first sight of her husband 


in pajama bottoms and in the com 
pany of a woman whose nightdress you 
could see right through. 

The other arrivals were a repair crew 
and an American in charge, who intro- 
duced himself as s to the guests 
who assembled, hastily dad, in the lobby. 
hank God, you're all right.” he said. 
fou can't imagine how concerned 
we've been — you're in all the papers. Its 
blown our cover completely—now the 
whole world knows we're down here in 
Nicaragua." 

“ls part of the 
cried, But, seeing Mrs. Woodrou 
ing down on her husband, and the look 
on his face, she kuew that they were 
back in the real world after all. 

The doctor who had come 
to find Montenegro, found his corpse 
and reported to Hanis. “About three 
days dead, ГА estimate,” he said, looking 
the guests indignation; and 
Woodrougl 
to blush. 

How terrible for you,” Harris said 
“There's no way we cam apologize for 


with 
at least, felt shame enough 


what you've been through. That storm 
you had—that was Hurricane Clea, my 
friends—that was a real dilly. For four 


days, there was nothing in the air, but 
, on the whole Atlantic Seaboard.” 
You didn't wonder about the lack of 


radio contact?” Hunsicker dei ded. 
“OF course we wondered," Harris 
frantic. We saw the 


ne; we knew you'd 
been hit. But for the first four days. w 
couldn’ do а thing, Of course, we don't 
own an amphibian and it's not so casy 
10 rent one, let me tell you—it took this 
long. Thank goodness we found out 
Delmonico was in Tegucigalpa and 
could talk him into flying in here to 
reassure you," 

None of the six wanted то look at 
another. Mary spoke up. "We'd read 
that he was dead.” 

“That's how we could get him,” sa 
Harris. “That was a publicity stunt that 
backfired, Get his name in the papers. 
But the newsboys found out right away 
that it was a phony and he got a very 
bad press indeed, Well, his agent 
thought maybe this rescue operation 
would help patch things up. So he flew 
in. Из been a hideous weck for you, 1 
know, but we'll get you out of here just 

soon as you have your stuff together." 
Al Hunsicker intercepted Martin Dı 

just as he reached his room. “About 
7 he said, red in the face. “It 
seems we're in Central Americ: all 
Bur Im willing to call the whole thing 
olf. So, if you'll just— 

“Oh, nonononono,” 
in. “I wouldn't think of it. 1 lost fair 
1 square and I'm gonna pity. You just 
wait here a second. 

He wi into his r 
after a short while 


that be 


Martin. broki 


om and came out 
Here's my check for 


"The Government pays me not to do any plowing, and I'm 
not going to do any plowing! Hear?" 


two grand, the thousand you paid me 
and mine for the lost bet.” He put it 
into Hunsickers limp hand, “ГИ just 
keep that. cashier's check,” he said, “that 
you were so generous as to endorse over 
to me. in front of witnesses 

He stepped 
"You silly bastard,” he said, 
the doo 

Désirée was about to 
room to collec her belongings when she 
heard the jay-voiced Mrs. Woodrough 
on the other side of the door, giving her 
husband hell. Reference was made to a 
aked whore, whom Désirée recognized 
as herself. She was about to retr 
the door when it was flung open and 
Pete erupted into the corridor, his wile 
screaming after him, "Come back here, 
Peter Woodrough! 

To Désirée, he quickly said, "I 
where there's a bottle of Jack Daniel's 
stowed away in the cocktail 
Соте on—1 think we both need 

They walked toward the lobby, deso- 
lated. by the latest turn of events. “Oh, 
Pere.” she said, “what 1 was convinced 
alf an hour ago would be preferable 

got now. 

He nodded grimly but said nothing. 

Even before they reached the lobby, 
their noses told them a ghastly experi- 
ence awaited them there. The lobby, 
crc a few minutes before there had 
been sudi completely empty. 


k inside his room. 
та closed 


enter Pete's 


at from 


e 


bustle, 


No Harris, no doctor, no rescue crew. 
Only Montenegro's body on a stretcher, 
urgently calling for burial. 

Pete and Désirée looked at each other 
with horrid surmise, Of one accord, they 
ran to the window. There was no sea- 
plane at the dock. There were no crates 
ol supplies on the lawn, There were no 
people. 

“But 
couldn't h 
hearing it! 

Désiré 


it 
without our 


it couldn't," Pete 
olt 


taken 


ave 


Kd in which triumph a 
were compounded. “OF course 
mt," she cried, “if it were 
marvelous! It’s just like you sa 
the plane, Pete—this outfit does its 
thing with good style! This is another 
one of those superb touche 

Petes face went slack. She had been 
jong. "It was just to torture us.” 
h whisper. “They've left us ex- 
actly the way we wi 

“Not quite,” said Désirée, 

For behi 
approaching torment: the strident, petu- 
lant, vulgar voice of the late Mis. Peter 
Woodrough, deathlong addition to their 
group. 

Pete spoke hollow! 
touch.” 

"The latest,” said Désirée, 


ıd them, they could hear an 


"The latest superb 


"but far 


203 


> EXHIBITION GAME (oninuca prom page 110) 


PLAYBO 


204 


picture—was. The steady pounding of 
in on our helmets mingled with the 
sound track until it sounded like every 
movie was shot in the middle of a roar- 
ing surf. Everyone ate apples and threw 
the cores at the screen. 

“You mean the one where Van John- 
son was this lieutenant?” 

“That's the one, Elkins. 

“Yeah. What about it? He looked pret- 
ty chicken-shit to me.” Elkins had hated 
all officers ever since he had failed to 
make flight taining. He considered him- 
sel basically a first licutenant, but fate 
had screwed him and made him a truck 
driver in а radar company. 

"You remember the scene when the 


company was pinned down and Mickey 
Rooncy, with all that Hollywood mud 


on his tin hat, was сгуй And then 
Van Johnson crawled out of the foxhole 
to save Eddie Bracken, who was Mickey 
Rooney's best friend? Do you remember 
what Mickey said through his tears when 
Van dragged Eddie, mortally wounded, 
back into the foxhole?” 

Zinsmeister paused dramatically, w 
ing for the answer 

"Nah. I musta missed that. I guess that 
came when I went out in the bushes to 
take a leak.” 

Gasser laughed raucously. 
Leave it to you to take a leak at the 
wrong time" said Zinsmcistei That's 


the story of your life, isn’t it, Elkins?” 
‘Screw you 


Tt was all Elkins could 
say, because he knew Zinsmeister was 
ight. It was the story of his Ше. 
‘Edwards, do you remember what 
Mickey Rooney said?" Edwards’ total lack. 
of humor made him smeister’s perfect 
straight man. He never let him down 
“Why, yes, 1 believe he d, I'd fol- 
low that man into hell.’ * 
A pregnant silence fell over us. 
“That, Elkins, 
Elkins looked at Zinsmeister 
belief. “What a crock of 
“What a load of 1 
"What, Elkins, you mean you wouldn't 
follow Lieutenant Cherry into hell" 
Elkins squatted down on the wooden 
duckboards and rocked in phlegmy 
laughter at the obscene image of himself. 
following Lieutenant Chemy through 
the gates of hell, into the roaring fur- 
nace, over à pontoon bridge spanning 
the River Styx, in which floated the 
writhing figures of the damned, proba- 
bly from our archenemy M Company. 
“You find it hard to believe that you 
would follow our Lieutenant into hell?” 
Zinsmeister spoke quietly. "It is my 
opinion that you already have.” Some- 
times the truth is so true that there's 
nothing more to say. 
MOVE YER ASS, GASSER, WE 


in dis 
he said. 


AIN'T GOT ALL DAY." It was the 
next morning, and Kowalski was in his 
sharply creased fatigues, а sure sign that 
he meant business. Gasser was the last 
man into Company K's battered. troop 
rier. Sitting in two rows facing each 
other in the stifling gloom, we rowed 
and banged off in the direction of B 
sector. Our troop carrier, due to its 
condition and also because of the way 
Elkins ked it around, produced as 
much concentrated sound as а P-51 just 
before lift-off. Before us on the floor, 
a pile of rakes, shovels and sickles 
bounced and rattled. We were officially 
off duty. The bitching when we drew a 
work detail on such an occasion was 
usually continuous and bitter, but today 
all was sweetness and light. We were 
reuming to the games of our child- 
hood, the simple pleasures, the ecstasies 
we knew before any of us had ever felt 
the weight of an МА. 

“WHAT'D YOU SAY?" I yelled at 
the top of my lungs at Gasser, who was 
crouched directly across fiom me, His 
face had been working soundlessly for 
some time and I finally got the drift 
that he was yelling something at me. 
tried to carry on any kind 
n in the back end of a 
troop carrier, at least not with Elkins at 
the wheel. 

"YOU LOOK LIKE A NATURAL- 
BORN BIRD CASER!” he screamed 
back. 

I thought about this for a second or 
two. “WHAT'S A BIRD CASER?” I 
hollered, as the dust swirled in over the 
tail gate. 

"WHAT'D YOU SAY?" he shouted 
back through the uproar. 

“WHAT'S A BIRD CASER?" I was 
getting hoarse. 

Gasser dug an elbow into Edwards’ 
ribs and yelled something into his ear. 
They both laughed, which for some rea- 
son made me mad. 

“WHAT'S SO GODDAMN FUN- 
NY?" І hollered. 

1 SAID THIRD BASEMAN, YOU 
JERK." Gasser kicked my knee with his 
GI shoe and spat out over the tail gate. 

We roared on and on. At last, with a 
shudder of worn brake linings, the load 
of tools slid along the truck bed and 
slammed against shins and ankles as the 
cartier bounced to а stop. Simultancous- 
ly, Kowalski's hated whistle shrieked out. 

“Let's have a column a twos here. 
Dress it up. I don't want mo horsin' 
around now. AT EASE, goddamn it!” 

We quieted down until the only thing 
making a sound was the oil 
the troop carrier and the 
from two chicken hawks that wheeled 
in the sky high above us. B sector was a 
silent wasteland, inhabited ошу by 


tarantulas, scorpions, a few rattlesnakes 
and an occasional alligator. It was miles 
from our radar site and was the only 
atively flat land in our area of 
ns, if what we did could be called 
operations. 

“This here manual is how to build a 
U.S. Army four-three-two slash B. D. GI 
ball diamond. And we arc gonna go by 
the book. Y' understand? 

We did. There was a book for every- 
thing. Half an hour later, we had al- 
ready created the faint outlines of 
baseball diamond on the scrubby sand 
of B sector. One gang of guys hacked 
away with shovels and pickaxes, smooth 
ing out the rough coral sand. Anothe 
team toted rocks and debris for dump- 
ing in the undergrowth where foul terri 
tory would be, Gasser, Zinsmeister and 1 
were in the outheld swinging sickles. 
chopping away at the razor-sharp pal. 
metios. A happy buzz of playful obsce 
ty filled the air and floated out over the 
invisible grandstands. 
christ, it’s hot.” spat on his 
hands, de sweat dripping off his dog 
tags. 

1 grunted, trying to pull my sickle out 
ious root. A malevolent blue- 
green g covered with and 
stingers scuttled across the sand. T leaped 
back. Gasser dropped his sickle and 
lunged sideways, giving himself a nasty 
slash on a palmetto leaf. 

“Well, as I live and breathe, a genu- 
ine scorpion." Zinsmeister fanned his 

ace with his fatigue hat and bent over, 
peering down at the little beggar. “By 
George, he’s a nice specimen.” 

Gasser hissed from behind the palmet- 
to: “Kill the bastard!” 

“Gasser, please. He might hear you.” 
Zinsmeister continued to examine the 
scorpion closely. I could see its stinger 
curled upward, ready for action. It 
looked like a tiny green lobster. 

“The Arachnida are an 
class,” Zinsmeister intoned in 
voice. 

“It looks like a scorpion to mel" said 
Gasser from behind the palmetto. Не 
was taking no chances; he held his sickle 
at the ready. Zinsmeister prodded the 
terrified little creature with his GI shoe 
and instantly it scuttled off into the 
undergrowth. I thought: This is going 
to be a hell of an outheld, especially for 
ground balls! 

As rode back to the comp: 
area late that afte ndy, hungry, 
happy, covered with mosquito bites—I 
dozed off from time to time. The tropi- 
cal sun was just dropping to the edge of 
the horizon when we climbed out of the 
troop carrier in front of the dayroom. 
A couple of guys from the third section 
who had just come off duty in the 
maintenance tent began pumping us 
about the ball diamond as we turned in 


teresting 
lecture 


we 


ооп: 


Multifilter: 


A low-tar cigarette with a tobaccoman's kind of flavor. 


WT 


[MULTE MULTIFILTER 


MENTHOL 


TWO MODERN 
ee TECHNIQUES 
Fresh-Air Systes 
acetate fibers reduce пае 


Jii 


Y Activated Charcoal Granules: 
highly adsorbent ol 
selected gases to smooth 


Consider it. 


PLAYBOY 


205 


Sya e 


Їй 2 


“Fortunately, it's not only my nose.” 


our tools and went back to our tents to 
get ready for chow. 

“What the hell are you doing, Gas- 
ser?" said Elkins as he smeared sulfa 
salve over his permanent heat rash, Gas- 
ser was rapidly lifting up the end of his 
footlocker and lowering it to the floor, 
using his right hand, 

l. . Twenty-six . . . twenty-seven 
...twentyeight .. . twenty-nine .. . ,” 
he grunted. 

Elkins rolled his eyes in the direction 
of the tent roof, muttered an obscene 
prayer and crossed himself, leaving big 
slippery dabs of the smelly sulfa salve at 
ich point of the cross. 

“. . . Thirty-six . . . thirty-seven . . . 
thirty-eight . . . ,” Gasser was breathing 
hard. The end of the footlocker wasn't 
going up and down as fast as it had 
been. His eyes were squeczed shut with 
concentratioi 

Zinsmeister sat quietly on the bunk 
and just watched, one sock half on, the 
other foot bare. The pious Elkins, who 
had finished beseeching God for mercy, 
moved away from Gasser as though 
whatever kind of fit he was having might 
be contagious. 

7... Ейуашес... fifty-four... 
fifty-five .. . fiftysix . . . ,” Gasser’s face 
was crimson with exertion as he toiled 
оп and on. 

Goldberg stuck 


his head in the tent 
door, or rather his pipe entered the tent. 
A cloud of purplish sickly sweet tobacco 
smoke preceded him. 

= tyone . . . sixty-two... 
an coughing, 
jon often encountered in 
ty of Goldberg's pipe. But he 
didn't stop: ". . . Seventy . . . seventy- 
опе... seventy 


"бой... 
he wheered. “Goldberg . . . 
-.. df you hadn't blown 
that stink in here . . . I coulda made а 
hunnert 
Elkins crossed himself again and said 
to no one in particular: “This heat is 
gonna get us all. First it's Gasser, and 
then . , . who knows?’ 
Gasser, who was reviving, sat up on 
his footlocker, rubbing his right arm 
and flexing his fingers to get the circu 
tion going. “Elkins, you sorry son of a 
bitch, can't you see I'm gettin’ the old 
soupbone in condition? This is my mon- 
ey arm. Wait till you see my slider, 
which you probably won't be able to see 
anyway. Not if it's workin’ right.” 


"Ah, spring training." — Zinsmeister 
pulled on his other sock. "Not a bad 
idea, Gasser. We're counting on you to 


help us murder M Company. 

M Company. an even more socially 
deprived outfit than ours, was buried in 
the underbrush a few miles away. There 
was little love lost between our two 
companies, mainly because they had а 


commander who believed in handing 
out as many stripes as he could. Lieuten- 
ant Cherry, on the other hand, awarded 
stripes as though he paid for them him- 
sclf, There was even a rumor to the 
effect that no one in M Company held. 
rank below staff sergeant, and that all of 
our nonexistent stripes had been given 
to them. 

"You mean we're gonna let them 
fuckups play on our ball diamond?” 


This from Edwards, who was lying 
prone on his bunk, polishing his dog 
tags He had a theory that heat rash was 


caused by dog-tag poisoning. 

“Only to humiliate them,” said Zins- 
meister, as he left the tent on his way to 
the latine. 

So it went all through chow. For the 
first time in a long while, we had somc- 
thing to talk about other than the usual 
bitching. Even guys who hated sports in 
real life w sucked in. The next day, 
another section of Company K rode off 
in the truck to pick up the work we had 
started. Our section was back on regular 
duty: trying t0 keep the radar func- 

g at least during our trick. Private 
Dye, sometimes known as “The Ninety- 
Se Pound Weakling,” sat hunched 
over an azimuth-scope screen the 
darkened operations room. He was wear- 
ing sunglasses. 

Zinsmeister, the section chief, tapped 
n on the shoulder. "Dye, how can you 
read а PPI scope wearing black glasses? 
Will you tell me that, please?” 

Dye looked up from his work. “I gotta 
protect my eyes. After all, we got a ball 
game comin’ up.” He went back to 
peering closely at the screen. 

"Oh. yes, of course, Dye. Excuse me, I 
forgot." 

During this exchange, I was 
voltage readings and writing them down 
on a clipboard form. 1 had been doing 
this every half hour for as long as I 
could remember. Long ago, most of our 
meters had lost whatever accuracy they 
had once had. Some read high, some 
low; others didn't read anything at all. 
But it didn't matter as long as the radar 
Kept working. We wrote down the volt- 
ages we knew were right and hoped for 
the best. 

During that fateful week, the ball 
diamond and the glorious ball games to 
come grew steadily in our minds. We 
had lived in a state of droning boredom 
for so long that any break in the routine 
жаз a major event. Since our radar s 
veillance, such as it was, went on 24 
homs а day, one section of the company 
was always squatting in front of the 
Scopes or tuning antennas while the 
other two sections alternated between 
sleeping and feverishly chopping away 
at the tropical undergrowth at the ball 
field. 

A corporal from the supply room 
ted calling it the Polo Grounds, and 


sta 


the name stuck. Soon nobody called it 
anything else. And gradually three ball 
clubs took shape—naturally, the Giants, 
the Dodgers and the inevitable Yankees. 
Gasser, Dye, Edwards, Goldberg, Zi 
meister and I volunteered for the Giants, 
Friday afternoon, we were hauled out to 
the Polo Grounds to put the finishing 
touches on the field. 

“One thing about the Army, 
ег as we trotted away from the troop 
in the direction of the diamond. 
с to do some- 


= 


carr 
“When they finally de 
thing, they really do it.” 

“Yeah. Look at that,” I wheezed in 
the heat. 

One of the peculiarities of life in the 
Service is its total unpre 
quartermaster truck. had del 
of portable knockdown grandstands, as 
well as a folding chicken-wire backstop, 
along with all the other necessities of a 
baseball diamond. This astounded every 
one, d resulted in another round of 
speculation about obscure departments 
in the Pentagon. 

"Can you imagine some joker of a 
bird co'onel h the tide of Folding 
Grandstand and Pitching-Rubber Pro- 
curement Officer?” asked Goldberg of 
ГИ bet the bas- 
nine сше 
and three companies of yardbirds under 
him. all running around testing home 
plates and visiting plants where they 
make catchers’ mitts.” He was probably 
not far wrong. 

Our two wooden o.d-colored plank 
and-trestle grandstands stood baking in 
the sun. The ficld was practically done, 
We had brought out the truck 
couple of buckets of whitewash for base 
es and, for a couple of hours, we care- 
fully dribbled out the whitewash on the 
crumbly soil, which the company had 
laboriously smoothed out during the 
weck. The pitching rubber had been laid. 
the day before; the bases were in place. 
Now all that remained was the cere- 


nts 


monial installation of home plate. It was 
a real home plate, too, made of hard 
snowy rubber. Lovingly, we laid it in 
place. 

ven Sergeant Kowalski was visibly 


moved. Standing on the lowest plank of 
the third-base grandstand, he said quiet 
ly, “This is one helluva ball diamond. 
When them guys from M Company get 
a look at this, they'll shit." He was right. 
Nestled in the trackless wilderness, at 
tended only by coral snakes, scorpions, 
alligators and raccoons, Comp 


beauty and perfection would grow in 
the imagination of everyone in the com 
pany over the dismal years ahead. 

I stood behind home plate and looked 
out over the Polo Grounds, tal art 
n spectacular plays to come, watching 
g rallies hcaring the crack of 
-hit line drives. High above in the 


207 


PLAYBOY 


208 


cloudless sky. а huge buzzard wheeled 
slowly on motionless wings. It was an 
omen. The stage was set. Company K 
was about to enter legend. Tomorrow 
opening day. 

Aw right, you guys, police up the 
area and field-strip them butts.” 

Fo ext 15 minutes, we picked 
up bits of debris until the Polo Grounds 
was as spotless as any major-league ball 
park on the eve of the world series. We 
rattled back through the undergrowth to 
the company area with that elated feel- 
ig we all know a few times in our lives 
and never forget. As І took the voltage 
lings that night, I noticed that even 
the griddrive meters registered higher 
than usual 
lay: morning breakfast, usually list 
less, was more like somebody's bir 
party. The K.P.s hummed, the Frend 
toast crackled and Gasser hit Zinsmeister 
on^the back. 

You intellectual son of a bitch. You 


better catch а good game. I ain't gonna 
start the season zero and one. 
“The catcher is the brains of the club, 


Gasser. Don't forget that. You throw 
what I call and don't try thinking. 
You're not good at it.” 

Big fat Goldberg sq 


ted at his end 


of the mess table, puffing away on his 
meerschaum, He was our kindly manag- 
er. The Giants, from В section, were 
playing the Dodgers—G section—that 
ficrnoon. The Yankees, A section, were 


going to take on the winner Sunday, 
and then the whole series would begi 


again the following weekend. The com- 
pany derk had been working on charts 
that outlined the whole season for our 
threeteam league. [t would сапу us 
joyously well into next year, when we 


might allow M Company to face the 
w 


nner 
Life in Company K had miraculously 
ned golden. Even Lieutenant Cherry 
smiled occasionally and Kowalski hadn't 
once bellowed "GET THE LEAD OUT 
OF YER А! since construction. on 
the Polo Grounds had begun. It was a 
new era. 

Shortly before noon, the Giants and 
the Dodgers piled out of the troop car- 
riers—followed by the Yankees, who were 
on hand to jeer the winner. As th 
home club. we took the field first. pep- 
a brand-new Q. M-issue ball 
around the infield. The three outfielders 
trotted out into the shimmering dis- 
tance. I kicked up the dirt around third 
base with my GI shoes, getting set for 


ova’ row 


“The one thing I regrei, Spike, is that 
we never had children.” 


play to begin. 
hind the plate, 
pitches, Across 


smeister squatted be- 
ing Gasser’s practice 
diamond, Elkins 


the 
talked it up at first. Edwards, our wiry 


shortstop, plucked at pebbles and spat 
in his glove. Sergeant Clobberman, our 


chest. protector 
ter. After a suitable d 
hellowed “PLAY BALL! 


act of our drama began. 
The lead-off hitter, a short, squat 
private, stepped into the box. 


"Lay it in here, Gi 
don't even know what a 
п, baby, lay it in here. 
began a running fire of chatter. 

The Yankees, scattered around the 
grandstands, hooted and sucked at cans 
of warm beer, Gasser glanced around 
infield, then peered through the 
ves at Zinsmeister, who Hashed a 
Y hours the re, they had 
wrangled in the tent over their secret 
Is. Gasser went into his big revolv 
ing motion and the first pitch slapped 
into Zinsmeister’s mitt, high and outside 
Clobberman, who had obviously watched 
many a major-league umpire, snapped 
out his finger in the ball-one sign. 

I рамей at the din ar third 
pounding my glove. Faint cries dr 
in from the outfield as our ball hawks 
shouted encouragement. On th 
h, the private hit a slow roller dow 

frstbase side. Elkins charged i 
oped it up and tagged him on the 
A ragged cheer went up from the 
песе in the stands, The private spat 
in the dirt and trotted back to the 
bench, mutter: ng sweat. 

As natur ht turns to day, we 
stopped being soldiers and became ball- 
players—an eminently civilian. state of 
mind. The next hitter was Widgy Bird- 
song. Widgy was short for Widgeon; his 
father was а duck hunter, A 
tall, thin, stdlooking corporal wearing 
glases, he swung wildly at Gasser’s fast 
high pop-up between 

and third 

and wi 


This dogface 
t is for. Come. 
smeister 


the 
sc 
ти 


ball arched and came down, dropping 
dean and truc. I grabbed it solidly with 
my gloved hand and whipped the ball 


kins and back around the 
the Giants always di 
out. The last m 
ser, 

Edwards, our lead-off ck ош, 
darkening the air with rich obscenities. 
Batting second, I tapped the plate and 
waited for the first pitch. Hurling for 
the Dodgers was Boob Swenson, who 
worked at the motor pool, a heavy-set 
Swede with a shaved head. He threw a 
low, mean, rising ball with a nasty hop 
on it. He had played semipro ball before 
the Signal Corps happened to him and 


jux like 
after а put 
kly to Ga 


rca 


he was back in his clement. І swung at 
the second pitch, topping a bouncing ball 
to short, and was out by ten feet. Elkins 
ed with wild gusto. He played ba: 
I as he did everything else in life. 
And so went opening day at the Polo 
srounds. Locked in mortal combat, the 
Giants and th 
ball for five innings. In the top of the 
sixth, the Dodgers scored a run on a 
couple of scratch hits and a dropped 
fly ball in left field. But we were still 
y a run. In the third. Gasser, 
batting left-handed, І caught one of 
Boob's slanters on the fat part of his 
and pulled а shot down the firstbase 
line for a triple. He scored on a roller to 
first, and the next hitter, Dye, astounded 
everyone by swatting a long fly over the 
left fielders hu to the palmettos 
for a home ru 

Ir happened midway through the 
sixth inning, spontaneously, without so 
much as a word of discussion, Through- 
ош the ne, we had worn our usual 
СІ shorts, shoes and dog tags. But by 
the sixth, the heat of both the game and 
the ad reached such blast-furnace 
someone in the outfield 


ad and 


the Dodgers and the 
bareass, jaybird na- 
ng sun. For the past 
three innings, my loins had been chafing 
under the weight of my soggy shorts 
anyway and. after all, what did it mat- 
way f i 


the final act in returning to the fr 
uncluttered lives of our lost youth. 

ched at third, slapp 
ng imo his 


Somehow the game picked up from that 
moment The Yankees in the stands 
shouted and tossed pennies onto the in- 
field alter Kling play. 

idgy ed around sec- 
the top of the seventh and сате 
ing . arms flapping, 
ig to stretch a double into a triple. 
lwards snagged the relay from the 
right fielder in the webbing of his glove 
and shot the throw low and hard toward 
me at third. 1 caught it on the short 
hop, just as the runner slid рам me in 
the sand. I laid the tag оп him hard. on 
the only place Т could get him. Clobber- 
a yelled "OUT!" Widgy leaped up, 
ching a vital spot, and shrieked at me 
in a high voice. "Oh. you stop that! 
That was a naughty thing to do!” 

He minced off toward the Dodger 
bendi. The Yankees were in ап uproar 
and a few handkerchiefs were waved. 
One guy stood up and blew kisses 
toward Widgy. Company Кз morale had 


never been higher. And Widgy Birdsong 
had a new nickn 

The next m 
guer into short right for a 
single, and the Dodgers bench began 
moring to get a rally going. There was 
опе man out and the score was 2 to 1. 
1 аер in from third, my glove held 
а bunt 1 glanced 

second at the L 
ball of sun. sweat running down my nose. 
my dog tags dinking меу. I noticed 
that the buzzard from yesterday was 
circling high above. Then it happened. 

From my right, off in the tangled 
jungle undergrowth, E heard a low rum- 
ble, the sound of a motor. Gasser laid in 
his first pitch. The batter swung and 
missed. 

Аза pepper, boy. These guys ain't 
got nothin’.” Zinsmeister droned. 

‘The motor hummed closer. A thought 
crossed the back of my mind: That's the 
halitrack coming back to pick us up. I 
to third, pounding my glove. 
vas aware, from the corner of my ey 
le had stopped just back of 
nd the end of the grand- 


looped a 


low, expect 
for 


a spl 


'L register, Gasser was 
the midst of a windmilling windup. 
It hit me. My God, i can’t be! 1 
looked back at the car. It w: In the 
front seat of а dark-green staff car, 
stonetaced sergeant in fulldress uniform. 
sat at the wheel, ramrod м. From the 
back window, which was rolled down, 
peered a face—an. elfin, alabaster, р 
nosed face under a doud of cascading 
golden-blonde hair. 
Гуе got sunstrok 


‚ 1 thought. I's a 


heat mirage. Company К had not been 
in the vicinity of a live female ] 
being for over a year and a half. For 
one wild instant. I tried to cover myself 
with my glove. Gasser, who hadn't no- 
ticed our visitor. was winding up. in 
eye-filling view of all the world, and Zins- 
meister continued to crouch obscenely 
behind the plate. 

I stared specchlessly at the car. The 
girl stared back. eyes wide at the orgias- 
athletic contest in progress before 
The stall-car driver glared grimly in 
my direction. I turned to face second 
t unorthodox position 
baseman—and hollered, 

HEY. GASSER!” 

Something in my voice caught him in 
mid-windup. He glanced in my direc 
tion, then to the car—and ntly 
turned а deep beecred. АП over. Still 
unconscious of disaster, Elkins and Ed- 
wards continued to dart back and forth 
at their positions. The batter, equally 
aware of what was happening, м 
gled h 1d took a couple of 
practice cuts. 

І heard. the engine restart. There was 
а dash of gears and а roar, and the staff 
car disappeared into the greenery, The 


ч 


whole thing was over in less than а 
minute. High overhead, the buzzard 
glided. He had been joined by two 
friends. 

Gasser stepped off the mound and 


led for ti He shuflled over 
“Did уон see what | sav 
“Who the hell was she?" It was all 1 

could think of to say. 

Gasser seemed to be half crying and 

all laughing. In a moment, the news 


209 


PLAYBOY 


had spread all the way to the outfield. 
Two schools of thought instantly de 
veloped. One crowd refused to bclicve 
that there had been that 
we had se saw 
only because we had forgotten our salt 
tablets. The other side, a tiny minority, 
believed that there really was a girl, but 
that she was some kind of swamp god- 
dess, since no actual girl was known to 
500 miles. 

Somehow, the ball game ran out of 
gas after that. Eventually, the Giants 
nosed out the Dodgers. as they so often 
did at the real Polo Grounds; but that 
was merely academic. Even the Dodgers 
sensed a larger defeat on the horizon. 

We piled quietly back into our troop 
carriers, covered with scratches, slide 
urns and mosquito bites, sunburned to 
a deep raspberry shade, and 20 minutes 
later pulled into the company area. It 
was ominously silent. No sooner had the 


actual girl, 


what we thought we 


be within 


brakes stopped squealing when Kowal- 
ski, sunglasses flashing. roared out of the 
orderly room, his whistle screeching fiend- 
ishly. He was followed by Lieutenant 
Cherry, dressed in crisp suntans and 
wearing his peaked officer’s cap with its 
gleaming golden cagle. 


"FALL IN. ON THE DOUBLE. 
LINE UP IN A COLUMN A TWOS. 
LET'S GO. GET THE LEAD OUT, I 


SAID MOVE! 


We straggled into formation, drop- 
ping balls and bats as we jostled one 
another 

"ATTEN-HUT!" 

I sucked in my gut with a sinking 
sense of foreboding. Lieutenant Cherry 
stepped forward and spoke, clipping off 
his words sharp and hard: “At 
am going to read to you a communica- 
tion received by this p eleven 
hundred hours, this date. І quote: "From 

al Command Headquarters, Air ре 
fense. To Lieutenant 
К Company, Thirteen-Sixty-Second © 
Air Warning Regiment, Signal Corps 
Expect visit Miss Barbara O. Smythe, 
daughter Lieutenant General L. D. 


Smythe, C. G., Second Corps, for purpose 
of moral 


Show her all courtesy. Signed, 
nt Colonel Е. E. Brimstone, 
G.O. C 

An electric through 
Company К. Lieutenant Cherry silently 
set his visored cap lower on his fore 
head. 

“I have just received a telephone call 
from headquarters. It seems that Miss 
Smythe was indeed shown all courtesy 
by K Company. According to the colo- 
nel who spoke to me, Miss Smythe ob- 
served a ball game.” 

A ribald thought slithered through my 
mind: You cam say that again. 

“I understand that this alleged ball 


current surged 


game was a sordid spectad 
lieutenant, his voice crackling ike fhe 
cubes coming out of a frosty way. “I 
have the following orders to transmit to 
К Company: At oh-cighthundred to- 
morrow, K Company will begin disman- 
tling the recently completed athletic field. 
We will I repeat, will, replace every 
blade of saw grass, every palmetto plant, 
every scorpion to its previous position. 
Upon completion of this mission, we 
will return every, 1 repeat, every, item of 
Issue athletic equipment to the area 
quartermaster stores. Henceforth, this is 
a radar company and not a stag show.” 

He paused, allowing his eyes to move 
slowly from one end of the formation to 
the other, “Are there any questions?” 

The none. Silently, he turned 
and disappeared into the orderly room. 
Kowalski took over. “Aw right, you bas- 
tards. You blew it. I have often stated 
that if you played ball with me, I would 
play ball with you. We will now begin 
my ball game, Immediately following 
chow, we will have a company GI party. 
We will clean every inch of this area. 
For three hours, I will see nothing but 
elbows and assholes.” 

Company K was back in bu 
Baseball season was over. The long hot 
winter had begun. 


ness, 


Retired? Who ever heard of 


a retired 


ippo lighter? 


Yet here are two of them, battered and worn, of which Robert 


Michmershuizen of Richmond, IIl., write: 


I'm going to retire them!” 


Repair them, and 


Bob carried one through World 


War Il as a paratrooper in the 101st 
Airborne. Later he gave it to a son 
who carried it in Vietnam for two 
years. 


Another son carried the second 


one in Vietnam. 


We fixed both of them free. 


Zippos are guaranteed to 
work—even in retirement. 


THE TRIP Continued from poge 164) 


from the East to liberate the people? 
Extraordinary, quite extraordinary. When 
you get back to Guatemala, you must go 
on with it.” 

“I am doing it now. In my room," 
she said. "You are my insp I've 
been working every night since I saw 


ion. 


ou 
“Shall I post this copy to your hotel in 
Berlin?” he said. 
"No. give it 
there.” 
“Berlin!” the editor exclaimed. With- 
out thinking, without realizing what he 
was saying, the editor said: “But I'm not 
going to Berlin. I'm going back to Lon- 
don at о 
Whe: the 
ald I come and talk to you now?” 
‘m afraid nor. I'm leaving in half an 
hour,” said the editor. Only when he put 
the telephone receiver back did the edi- 
tor realize that he was sweating and that 
he had told a lic. He had lost his head. 
Worse, in Berlin, if she were there, he 
would have to invent another lie. 
It was worse than that. When he got 
to Berlin, she was there. 
perverse of him—but he was alarmed 


to me when we meet 


said woman's voice. 


not It was 


He was ashamed: The shadiness of the 
saint replaced the pagan on his hand- 


some face; indeed, or 


the race question 


after his lecture, a man in the audience 
id he 
But in Hamburg, at the end of the 
week. her voice spoke up fiom the back 
of the hall: "I would like to ask the great 
man, who has filled all our hearts this 
evening, whether he does not think that. 
the worst racists are the oppressors and 


evasive. 


deceivers of womei 


She delivered her blow and sat down. 
ing behind the shoulders of 

bulky German men 
The editors clever smiles went; he 
jerked back his heroic head as if he had 
been shot; he balanced himself by touch- 
ing the table with the tips of his fingers. 
He lowered his head and drank a glass 
of water, splashing it om his tie. He 

looked for help. 

My friends," he wanted to say, "that 
woman is following me. She has followed 
me all over Scandi 


һар 


ia and Germany. I 
had to tell a lie to escape from her in 
Berlin, She is pursuing me. She is writ- 
ing a poem. She is trying to force me to 
She father—I 
mean, her father murdered her mother. 
She is mad. Someone must get me out of 
this.” 


read it. murdered her 


But he pulled himself together and 
sank to that point of desperation to 


which the mere amateurs and hams ol 
public speaking sink. 

“A good question," he said. Two irrev- 
crent laughs came from the audience 
probably from the American or English 
self 
k 
on one of those drifting historical gener 
alizations that so often rescued him. He 
heard his voice sailing into the 18th 
Century, throwing in Rousseau, gliding 
on to Tom Paine and The Rights of 
Man. 

“Is there a way out of the back of this 
hall?" he said to the chairman afterward. 
“Could someone keep an eye on that 
woman? She is following me.” 

They got him out by a back door. 

At his hotel, a poem was slipped un 
der his door. 


colony. He had made a fool of 


again. Floundering. he at last fell b: 


Suckled on Rousseau 

Strong in the divine 
Nature 

Clasp Guatemala in your arms 


message of 


“Room 868” was written at the end 
She was staying at the same hotel! He 
rang down to the desk, said he would re- 
ceive no calls and demanded to be put on 
the lowest floor, dose to the main stairs 
and near thc exit. Safe in his new room, 
he changed the time of his flight to 
Munich. 

There was a note for him at the desk. 
"Miss Mendoza left this for you,” said 


Rehired! After 8 years of service. 
The cost, an 8 cent stamp! 


4 


Staff Sergeant John Е. Easler, a paratrooper of 


the 82nd Airborne, really prizes his windproof 


Zippo Lighter. 


Purchased in 1962, it has been around the world 


uh 
kA 


and “lighted cigarettes for every nationality." 
It has logged 100 jumps, seen combat in the ы 
Dominican Republic and Vietnam—while serving as “а hammer, 


screw driver and flashlight. 


John's letter closed with, ‘‘Please fix only the hinge. Don't replace 


a thing, just weld the hinge.” 


Give the windproof Zippo—it works or we fix it free. 
Zippo Mfg. Co., Bradford, Pa. 16701. In Canada: Zippo Mfg. Co. of Canada, Ltd 


211 


PLAYBOY 


212 


the clerk, "when she left for Munich this. 
morning.” 
Autached to the nore was a poem. It 


began: 


Ravenous in the long night of the 
centuries 

1 waited for my liberator 

He shall not escape me. 


His hand was shaking as he tore up the 


note and the poem and made for the 
door. The page boy came running after 


him with the receipt for his bill, which 
he had left on the desk. 

The editor was а well-known man. Re- 
porters visited him. He was often 
nized in hotels. People spoke his n 
aloud when they saw it on passenger 
s. Cartoonists were apt to lengthen his 
neck when they drew him, for they had 
caught his habit of stretching it at p: 
tics or meetings, hoping to see and be 
seen. 

But not on the flight to Munich. He 
kept his nd lowered his chin. He 
longed for anonymity. He had а sensa- 
tion he had not had for years, not, 
"deed, since the pre-thaw years in Rus 
that not 
simply by one person but by dozen 
Who were all those passengers on the 

incouts 


«cog. 


е 


he was Бей 


si g followed, 


his hotel? 
ade for the first cab he saw at 
the airport. At the hotel, he went to the 


fwcn. Your wife 
* In any small group, the 
acr in him woke up. He tuned from 
the clerk to а stranger standing at the 


beside gave a yelp of 
"But I am not married." The 
nger drew away. The editor turned 


desk 


to a couple also standing there. “I'm 
ing I am not married,” he said. He 


turned about to sce if he could gather 
morc listeners. 

This is ludicrous,” he said. No one 
was interested and loudly to the clerk he 
said: "Let me see the register. There 
no Mrs. Drood.” 

The derk put on an embarrassed but 
worldly look, to soothe any concern 
about the respectability of the hotel in 
the people who were waiting. But there, 
the card, in her writing, were the 
Mr. and Mrs. M. Drood—Londor 
editor turned dramatically to the 


on 
word: 

Th 
group. 

A forgery!” he cried. He laughed, 
inviting all to join the comedy. “A wom- 
an traveling under my name." 

Ihe clerk and the strangers turned 
away. In travel, one can rely on there 
being one mad Englishman everywher 
The editors face darkened when hé 
saw he had exhausted human interest. 

“Four-filicen. Baggage,” called 
clerk. A young porter came up q 
li «d up the edito 


the 
k asa 
s bag 


"s. 


d and ріс 
Wait. Wait,” said the editor. Before 
young man so smoothly uniformed, he 
had the sudden sensation of standi 
there with most of his clothes off. When 
you the Day of Judgment, 
there would be some worldly youth, hum- 
ming a tune you didn't know the name 
of, carrying not only your sins but your 
virtues indifferently in a couple of bags 
nd gleaming with concealed knowledge. 
have to telephone, itor said. 
"Over there,” said the young man as 


arrived at 


he put the bags down. The editor did 
not walk to the telephone but to the 
main door of the hotel. He considered 
the freedom of the street. The sensible 
thing to do was to leave the hotel at 
once, but he knew that the woman 
would be at his lecture that night. He 
would have to settle the matter once and 
for all now. So he turned back to the 
telephone cabin, It stood there empty, 
like a trap. He walked past it. He hated 
the glazed, whorish, hypocritically imper- 
somal look of telephone cabins. They 
were always unpleasantly warmed by 
random emotions left behind in them. 
He turned back: the thing was still 
empty. “Surely,” he wanted to address 
the people «о and going in the 
foyer, "someone wants to telephone?” 
It was wounding that not опе person 
there was interested in his case. It was 
as if he had written an article that no 
one had read. Even the porter had рош 

His two bags rested against the desk. He 
nd they had ceased to be news. 
He began to walk up and down quick- 
ly, but this stirred no onc. He stopped i 
every observable position, not quite ig 
nored now, because his handsome hair 
always made people turn. 

The editor silently addressed. them. 
“You've entirely missed the point of my 
position. Everyone knows, who has read 
what I have written, that 1 am opposed 
on principle to the whole ide: 

That i 
behavior so k of get 
ting married in a world that is in one of 
the most ghastly phases of its history is 
puerile." 

He gave a short sarcastic laugh. The 
audience was indilferen 

The ed t into the telepho 

d. leaving the door open for all 
‚ he rang her room. 
шау Drood,” he said brusquely. 
"It is important that I should see you at 
once, privately, in your room." 


we 


He heard her breathing. The way the 
human racc thought it was enough if 
they breathed. Ask an important ques 


tion and what happens? Breath 
he heard the small voice: It 
splashing. confusing sound. 
“Oh,” it said. And more breath. “Yes.” 
The two words were the top of a wave 
that is about to topple and come thump- 
ing over onto the sand and then dr 
back with a long, insidious hiss. 
“Please,” she added. And the word was 
the long, thirsty 
The edito surprised that his 
brusque manner was so wistfully treated 
"Good heavens,” he thought, "she is in 
that room.” And because she was invi: 
ble, and because of the distance of the 
wire between them, he felt she was pour- 
ing down it, headfirst, mouth open. 
swamping him. When he put the tele- 
phone down, he scratched 
piece of her seemed to be coiled there. 


Th 
made 


ws 


his car; a 


The editor’s car had heard passion. And 
passion at its dramatic climax 

He had often heard of passion. He 
had often been told of it. He had often 
read about it. He had seen it in opera. 
He had friends—who usually came to 
him for advice—who were entangled in 
it. He had never felt it and he did not 
fecl it now; but when he walked from 
the telephone cabin to the lift, he saw 

is role had changed. The woman was 
not a mere nuisance—she was something 
like Tosca. The pagan became doggish, 
the saint furtive as lie entered the lift. 
h,” the editor burst out aloud to 
the Hitman, “les femmes.” The German 
did not understand French. 

The editor got out of the lift and, 
passing one watchful white door after 
another, came to 415. He knocked twice 
When there was no answer, he opened 
the door. 

He seemed to blunder into an invisi- 
ble wall of spice and scent and stepped 
back, thinking he had made a mistake. A 
Jong legged rag doll with big blue cycs 
looked at him from the bed, а half 
packed suitcase was on the floor with 
curious clothes hanging out of it. A wom- 
ап shocs were tipped out on the sofa 

And then, standing by a small des 

where she had been writing, stood Miss 
Mendoza. Or, rather, the bottle-green 
dress, the boxlike figure were Miss Men- 
doza's; the head was not. Her hair wa 
longer black: it was golden. The idol's 
head had been chopped off and was re- 
placed by a woman's. There was no 
expression on the face until the shock on 
the editor's face sent shock to hers, then 
ching look of horror seized her, 
ud then of being caught in an outrage. 
She lowered her head, suddenly cowed 
nd frightened. She quickly grabbed 
stocking she had left on the bed and held 
d her back. 
are angry with me," 
holding her head down like an obst 
child. 
You are in my room. You have no 
right to be here. I am very angry with 
you. What do you mean by registering in 
my name—apart from anything clse, it is 
illegal. You know that, don't you? I must 
ask you to go or 1 shall have to take 
жЕр os AP 

Her head was still lowered. Perhaps he 
ought not to h id the last sentence. 
"The blonde hair made her look pathetic. 

"Why did уоп do this” 

“Because you would not see me,” she 
said. "You have been cruel to m 

“But don’t you realize, Miss Mendoza, 
what you are doing? I hardly know you. 
You have followed me all aver Europe: 
you have badgered me. You take my 
тоот. You pretend to be my wife... .” 

"Do you hate mc?" she muttered. 
amn, thought the editor, 1 ought to 
have changed my liotel at onc 

“J know nothing about you,” he said. 
ant to know about me? 


no 


she said, 
rate 


What I am like? I know everything about 
you,” she said, raising her head. 

The editor was confused by the re 
buke. His fit of acting passed. He looked 
at his watch. 

“A reporter is coming to sce me in 
half an hour,” he said. 

“L shall not be in the way," she said. 
“I vill go out.” 

“You will go out!” said the editor. 
Then he understood where he was going 
wrong. He had—perhaps b broad, 
addressing meetings, speaking to audi- 
ences with only опе mass face had done 
this—forgotten how he dealt with 
ficult people. 

He pushed the shoes to one end of the 
sofa to find himself a place. One shoe 
fell to the floor, but after all, it was his 
room, he had a right to sit in it. 

"Miss Mendoza, vou are ill," he said. 

She locked down quickly at the carpet. 

“Tam not,” she said. 

“You are ill and, 1 think, very unl 
He put on his wise voice. 

“No,” she said in а low voice. “Ha 
You аге talking to me. 

"You are а very intelligent woma 
he said. “And you will understand what 
I am going to say. Gifted people like 
yourself are very vulnerable, You live in 
the imagination and that expo: 1 
know that," 

"Yes," she said. "You sce all the injus- 


P 


oni 


tices of the world. You bleed from 
them.” 
“I? Yes" said the cditor with his 


saint's smile. But he recovered from the 
aying something celse. 
ation is part of your gilt as a 
al life, it has deluded 


sit down,” suid the editor. He 
could not bear her standing over 
“Close the window, there is too mudi 
noi 

She obeyed. The editor was alarmed to 
see the zipper of her dress was half 
nd he could see the top of some 
garment with ominous lace on it. He 
could not bear untidy women. He saw 
his case was urgent. He made a greater 
effort to be kind. 

"It was very nice of you to come to my 
Jectures. I hope you found them interest- 
ing. I think they went down all right— 
good questions. Ou knows, of 
course. One arrives in а strange place 
a hall full of people onc 
nd you won't believe 
ps. because I've done it scores of 


him. 


undone 


never 


and one 


secs 
doesn't know 
me, perh: 
times—but one likes to see a face that one 
recognizes. One feels lost, at fst. . . 2” 

She looked hopefully. 

This was untrue. The editor never felt 
lost. Once on his feet, he had the sensa- 
tion thar he was talking to the human 
асс. He suffered with it, It was the 
general human suffering that ha 
aged his face, 

“But, you know,” he said sternly, “our 


rav- 


“We'll see if those people lel you 
stay at the commune when they find out you never clean 
your room or help with the dishes.” 


213 


PLAYBOY 


feelings deceive us. Especially at certain 
times of life. I was worried about you. I 
saw that something was wrong. These 
things happen very suddenly, God knows 
why. You sce someone whom you admi 
pethaps—it seems to happen to women 
more than men—and you project some 
forgotten love on him. You think you 
love him, but it is really some forgotten 
image. In your case, I would say, prob- 
ably some image of your father, whom 
you have hated all these years for what 
he did when you were a child. And so, as 


people say, one becomes obsessed or infat- 
ated. І don’t like the word. What we 
mean is that one is not in love with a 


real man or woman but a vision sent out 
by oneself. One can think of many exam- 
ples. . 


The editor was sweating. He wished 
he hadn't asked her to dose the window. 
He knew his mind was drifting toward 
historic insta He wondered if he 
would tell her the story of Jane Carlyle, 
the wife of the historian, who had gone 
to hear the famous Father Matthew speak 
at a temperance meeting and how, hys- 
terical and exalted, she had rushed to 
the platform to kiss his boots. Or there 
were other instances. For the moment, he 
couldn't remember them. He decided on 
Carlyle. 1t was a mistake. 
Who is Mrs. aid Miss 
doza suspiciously. "I would never kiss any 


nces. 


said the editor. “It was on a 
public platform. 
"Or boots,” Mis Mendoza burst out. 
“Why are you torturing me? You are 
saying I am mad. 
The editor was м 


d by the turn 
Tt had seemed to be 


of the conversation 
going well. 

“OF course you're not mad," he said. 
“A madwoman could not have writte 
that great poem. E am ў 
value your feelings, but you must unde 
stand I, unfortunately, do not love you. 
But you are ill. You have exhausted 
yourself.” 

Miss Mendoza's yellow eyes became 
brilliant as she listened to him. 

"So," she said grandly, “I am a mere 
nuisance." 

She got up from her chair and he saw 
she was trembling. 

“If that is so, why don’t you leave this 
room at once?" she said. 

“But,” said the editor with а laugh, 
1 may mention it, it is mine; 

1 signed the register,” said Mi 


doza 
“Well,” said the editor, smiling, “tl 


is not the point, is it? 
"The boredom, the sense of the sheer 


214 waste of time (when one thought of the 


massacres, the bombings, the imprison- 
ments in the world) in personal ques 
tions, overcame him. It amazed him how 
many times, at some awful crisis—the 
Cuban, for example—how many people 
left their husbands, wives or lovers, in a 
post: the extraordinary, irrespon- 
lc persistence of outbreaks of love. A 
xl of guerrilla war in another context. 
Here he was in the midst of it. What 
could he do? He looked around the 
room for help. The noise of traffic out- 
side in the street, the dim sight of people 
moving in office windows opposite, an 
advertisement for beer were по help. 
Humanity had deserted him. The near- 
est thing to the human—now it took his 
eye—was the doll on the bed, an absurd 
marionette from the cabaret, the raflle or 
the nursery, It had a mop of red. hair, 
y red cheeks and popping blue cyes 
with long cotton lashes. It wore a short 
skit and had Jong legs in 
checked stockings. How childish women 
were. Of course (it now occurred to 
him), Miss Mendoza was as childish as 
her voice. The editor said. playfull 
see you have a little friend. Very pretty. 
Does she come from Guatema 
frivolously, because he dis 
he took a step or two toward it, Miss 
Mendoza pushed past him at once and 
grabbed 

"Don't touch it,” she s 
fierceness, 

She picked up the doll and, hugging it 
with fear, she looked for somewhere to 
put it out of his reach. She went to the 
door, then changed her mind and rushed 
to the window with it. She opened the 
window and, as the curtains blew in, she 
looked as if a desperate idea һай oc- 
curved to her—to throw herself and it 
out of the window. She turned to fight 
him off. He was too bewildered to move 
nd when she saw that he stood still, her 
frightened face changed. Suddenly, she 
threw the doll on the floor and, half 
falling onto a chair near it, her shoulders 
ded, she covered her face with her 
hands and sobbed, shaking her head 
from side to side. Tears crawled through 
her fingers down the backs of her hands, 
‘Then she took her hands away and, soft 
id shapeless, she rushed to the editor 
ad clawed i 


inane 


то 


10 laugh and cry at once. "As you said— 
ilL Oh, please forgive. I don't under- 
nd why I did this. For a week, I 
haven't eaten. anything. I must have 
been out of my mind to do this to you. 
Why? I can't think. You've been so kind. 
You could € been cruel. You were 
ight. You had thc courage to tell mc the 
truth, I feel so ashamed, so ashamed, 
What can I do?" 

She was holding onto his jacket. Her 


tears were on his hands. She was plead- 
ing. She looked up. 

I've been such а fool 

"Come and sit here," said the cditor, 
trying to move her to the sofa. “You are 
not a fool. You have done nothing. 
nothing to be ashamed of.” 

r it. 
“Come and sit here,” he said, putting 
m on her shoulder. “I was very 
proud when I read your poem. Look, 
he said, "you are a very gifted and 
tractive woman 

He was surprised that such a heavy 
woman was not like iron to the touch 
but light and soft. He could feel her skin, 
hot through her dress. Her breath was 
hot. Agony hot. Grief was hot. 
Above all, her clothes were hot: It was 
perhaps because of the heat of her clothes 
that for the first time in years, he had 
the sensation of hok nan being. 
He had never [elt d 1 on a few 
occasions, he had held а woman naked 
n her bed, He did something then that 
was ble to himself: He gently 
kissed the top of her head, on the blonde 
hair he did not like. It was like kissing a 
heated mat and it smelled of burning. 

At his kiss, she clawed no longer and 
her tears stopped. She moved away from 
him in awe. 

Thank you,” she said gravely and he 
found himself being studied, even memo- 
rized, as she had done when she had first 
come to his office. The look of the idol 
ain, Then she uttered a 
revelation: "You do not love anyone but 
yourself.” And, worse, she smiled. He 
had thought, with dread, that she was 
waiting to be kissed again, but now he 
couldn't bear what she said. It was a loss. 

“We must meet,” he said recklessly. 
“We shall meet at the lecture tonigh 

The shadow of her future passed over 
her face. 

"Oh, no," she said. She w She 
was warning him not to hope to exploit. 


his a 


incred 


was set on her ag; 


s afternoon?" he said, trying to 
catch her hand, but she drew it away 
And then, to his bewilderment, she was 
dodging round him. She was packing. 
She began stufling her few clothes into 
her suitcase, She went to the bathroom 
and while she was there, the porter came 
in with his two bags. 

“Wait,” said the editor. 

She came out of the bathroom looking. 
very pale and put the remaining things 
into her suitcase. 

“I asked him to w 

The kiss, the gold ‚Шс heat of 
her head seemed to be flying round in 
the editor's head. 

“I don't м 
the editor said. 

“I heard what you said to the man," 


the editor said. 
a hi 


t you to leave like this,” 


PLAYBOY 


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“My generation didn’t have television, my dear. 
We were the comic-book generation.” 


215 


PLAYBOY 


216 


she said, hurriedly shutting the suitcase 
“Goodbye. And thank you. You have 
saved me from something dreadful.” 

The editor could not move when he 
saw her go, He could not believe she had 
gone. He could [ecl the stir of her scent 
in the air and he sat down exhausted 
but argo h his conscience, Why 
had she said that about loving only him- 
self? What else could he have done? He 
wished there were people there 10 whom 
he could explain. whom he could ask 
He was feeling loneliness for one of the 
few times in his life. He went to the 
window to look down at the people. 
Then, looking hack to the bed, he was 
astounded by a thought: “1 
had an adventure in my life," And, with 
that, he left the room and went down to 
the desk. Was she still iu the hote 

“No, 
went off in a taxi 
"m asking for Miss Mendo; 
о one of that name.” 
Extraordinary," lied the editor. "She 
was to meet me here.“ 


ng м 


have never 


“Perhaps she is at the Hofgarten, it’s 
the same management.” 
For the next hour, he was on thc 


telephone, try He got a 
cab to the station: he tried. the 
nd then, in the afternoon, went out to 
the airport. He knew it was hopeless. ^I 
must be mad,” he thought. He looked at 
every fair-haired woman he could sec: 
The city was full of them, it seemed to 
him. As the noisy city aftemoon moved 
by. he gave up. He liked to talk about 
himself, but here was a day he could 
never describe to anyone. He could not 
1 the lounge, 


ing all the hot 


airlines 


return to his room but sat 


trying to read a paper, wr 
himself and looking up at every мота 

who passed. He could not cat nor even 
drink and when he went out to his 
lecture, he walked all the way to the hall 
on the chance of secing her. He had the 
fancy once or twice, which he laughed at 
bitterly, that she had just passed and had 
left two or three of her footprints on 
the ment. The maddening thing 
was that she was exactly the kind of 
woman he could not bear—squat, ugly: 
how awful she must look without clothes 
on. He tried to exorcise her by obscene 
images. They vanished and some trans- 
formed, indefinable vision of her came 
- He began to see her tall and dark 
or young and fai; her eyes changing 
color, her body voluptuously rounded, 
athletically slim. As he sat on the lec 
ture platform, listening to the introduc- 
tion, he made faces that astonished 
people with a mechanical display of 
eagerness followed by scorn, as his gaze 
went systematically from row to row, look. 
ing for her. He got up to speak. He knew 
it would be the best lecture he had ever 
given, 1t Urging, appealing, agoniz 
ing. eloquent: Tr was an appeal to her to 
come back. 

And thi 
which he hardly heard, he returned to 
the hotel. He had now to face the mock- 
сту of the room. He let himself in and it 
did mock, The maid had turned the bed 
back and on it lay the doll, its legs 
tidied, its big ridiculous eyes staring 
him. They seemed to him to blink, She 
had forgotten it. She h 
hood behind. 


ing with 


“I found that rattle, М: 
your law) 


er had better get right down her 


and I think you and 
p 


BUNNIES OF NEW YORK 
(continued from page 151) 


starting training with TWA; that was in 
September 1968, and I'm still here" But 
Barbaree still manages to travel. Last 
summer, she and Nancy Kcosayian (a 
Carnegie Institute jazzballet student in 
her spare time) took a six-week leave of 
absence from the Club and drove cross- 
country to San Francisco and Los Angeles. 

Traveling companions of longer stand- 
ing are Ava Faulkner and Ricki Shapiro, 
who met ata Miami night club when the 
band struck up Dixie. Georgian Ava and 
Tennessean Ricki found themselves the 
only guests standing for the unofficial 
Southern anthem; they introduced them- 
selves and the subsequent conversat 
soon deepened into friendship. In 1968, 
Ava, who had been a Bunny at the Miami 
Club for nearly a year, persuaded Ricki 
to move north with her, “We looked 
like the Beverly Hillbillies, with a car 
packed to the brim," says Ava. Both girls 
were hired as Bu s at the New York 
Club, where they remain close friends 
but pursue separate off-duty g 
hopes to become a band vocalist and 
Ricki is taking night-school courses in or- 
der to teach mentally disturbed children. 

"There seems to be a special esprit de 
mong the Bunnies of Playboy's 
n ошром—ап attitude that 
пу of the girls attribute to the тасш 
pesonnelmanagement skills and gen 
ine warmth of Bunny Mother Jadce 
Yee, a New Yorker of Chinese American 
е ction who is herself ner COL 
tontail, “Jadee's wonderful and the girls 
are very cooperative,” says Bunny Azuca 
Jackson, who came to New York from 
Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico, to model and. 
attend the City College of New York, 
where she majored in Spanish and art. 
“Phe other Bunnies are fine to work 
with, especially in comparison with mod- 
els, who are likely to cut your th 
Here, everybody pitches in to help. 

Cottont camaraderie has in some 
instances spilled over into business al- 
filiations. Bunnies Lindsay Corey and 
Patti Hopkins are preparing to trundle 
ош а daisy-covered. health-food cart this 
i ound Central 


als: Ava 


for 


at. 


ot and fruit juices squeczed fresh to 
order. It taken the girls several 
months of digging through red tape and 
city regulations to get the venture going. 
but once launched, they hope the push- 
cart will draw enough customers to en- 
able them to expand into a full-fledged 
health-food store, Bunnies Carole Na- 
varo and Marcia Donen operate a 
wholesale-jewelry enterprise; they call it 


Rings & Things—the things inch 


ling 
medallions and carrings de- 
signed by the girls and cast in various 


bracelets, 


by local craftsmen, So far, most of 
their customers are other Bunnies, but 
they, too, hope to branch ош. 

Like many other cottonta 
fetching enuepreneurs are planning to 
further th education with tuition 
id (or wholly ог іп part by Playboy's 
to encourage employee self- 
Carole and Marcia intend 
to take Spanish classes. Their friend Joi 
Kissling is already attending the Steno- 
type Institute, where she's learning 1o 
become a court reporter. Door Bunny 


ls, these 


d theater from Hunter 


buddi ker now 
hing touches on а 
Bunny Dorothea Kuil 
ds her four 
at the Club, two at Pratt Institute, 
where she’s studying architecture, and 
five days in the office of an architect, 
with whom she works on problems of 
utilization. One of Dorothea's 
most challenging recent design project 
Exodus House, a home for the rehabili- 
tation of drug addicts in East Harlem. 
Denise Schweighardt is scheduled to 
take her bachelor's de i 
year from Fairleigh Dickinson U 
ty. Denise became ап К. №. in 1969, but 
opted to go on for the prestige and se- 
curity of a college degree. The whole 
program, which she began in 1966 with a 


putt 
mated film. 


hospital nursing course, was financed by 
her Bunny earnings, but in the carly 
days Denise had to confine her coto 
ng to afternoon or early-evening pr 
vate p because of the hospital's strict 
student-curfew rules. Denise sees possibi 
ities in combining her carcer interests: 
Playboy is growing, the organi- 
zation may soon need a resident nurse at 
one of the resort complexes,” she pre 
dicts. "I'll be first in line to apply." 

Dana Hunter, the daughter of a Mis- 
ppi plantation owner, received a 
bachelor of arts degree ach with 
honor from Tulane University before 
heading north several years ago. “I had 
theatrical aspirations, but 1 gladly 
them up.” she Before becom 
Bunny, Dana worked at the Penta 
a typist for the : 
New York coterie in 1965, then went to 
n 1967 10 help open the 
there. This spring. she's registering for 
graduate school at Hunter, where she'll 
decide whether to major in sociolo 
psychology or history. A degree in edu 
у enables 


siss 


high and high schools, Pixie lives in 
Greenwich Village, where she attends 
night classes in French at the New School. 
Her unusual avocation: finding homes 
for stray cats. By advertising in The 
Village Voice, Pixie has, by her own es- 


timate, placed close to 40 homeless felines. 

A carcer in teaching is also anticipated 
by Joyce Goldman, holder of a B.S. in 
education from Finch College—where 
е of her classmates was on. 
"I definitely plan to go into teaching 
someday. but first I want to get my 
master's degree,” says Joyce. "I'd like to 
study more history. too; sometimes I 
wish I could go back in time and find 
myself in Victorian England. I'd rather 
enjoy its pomp and splendor than today's 
formality, which, personally, 1 
think has gone too VIP Room 
ny Meja Yoon, who got her start in 
п 1966, moved to New 
at the Art Students’ 
and a half. 


York to 1 
League, following up on two 


years of art studies at the University of 
of Honolulu. 


на п her home iow 
Another Bur 
school this fall, 
cial aid, is doc-eyed 
whose parents came to this country from 
alcutta. Tanya will study education 
and child psychology—also at Hunter. 
She's already a member of the Foster 
nts Plan and her goal—"if only I 
could get my hands on a million dollars 


or so"—is to open a home for deprived 
children. 
The Montclair State College camp: 


in New Jersey is off-duty headqu: 
for Bunny Waren Smith, who's taking 
math and English there—and applying 


The great imp 


ostor. 


It is not a cigarette. 
Nor is it everybody's idea 
ofa cigar. 

It's an A&C Little Cigar. Slim, 
filter-tipped and devilishly 
smooth tasting. 


It tastes great because it's 
— 


made with a special blend that 

includes imported cigar 

tobaccos. Cured for mildness 

and flavor. And it looks great! 
Naturally, it all adds up 

to a very satisfying smoke. 

An A&C Little Cigar. 


cmd 


There are twenty 
A&C Little Cigars in the 
elegant crush-proof pack. 


Regular or Menthol. 


217 


PLAYBOY 


218 


for Playboy scholarship assistance 10, 
take journalism courses this summer and 
prepare for a carcer in public relations. 
From 1959 to 1962—while her father 
was Far Eastern representative for U.S. 
Plywood—Waren's family lived in Ja- 
pan, where she learned Japanese and 
became an accomplished Oriental danc- 
er. Returning to the U.S. with her 
parents and six brothers and sisters, she 
ht herself computer programming 
ha from an uncle, who 
processing for a 
nd landed a job 
neer for IBM in West- 
а, at the advanced 
became a Bunny on a dar 
“L had driven my psy- 
chedclic old 1962 Volkswagen bus—we 
call it Wheels of Fire—into New York 
from our present family home in Mont- 
Mother to the Plaza 
wc bridge amd my 
n-old sister 
My brother 


Са 


clair, I was 
Hotel to play dup 
13-year-old brother and 15-у 
were along for the rid 


joked when we passed the Playboy 
Club: "Why don't you apply for a job? 
So I parked the bus, left them sitting 
there and walked in. 1 had these visions 
of some dirty oll man saying, ‘Hey, 
girlie, take it oll but Bunny Mother 
dec reassured me and. when I came 
back out to rejoin the kids, Id been 
signed up as a Bunny.” Waren's 20-ycar- 


old sister, Erin, also worked as à New 
York сойо! last year; now auending. 
Southern Oregon College in Ashland, 


she's due back to rechim her Bunny 
ears in June. 

Six of Manhattan's cottontails— егі 
Haywood, Tiki Owens, Linda Kish, 
Vikki Gatling, Kay Daugherty and Mary 
Avram: former airline stewardesses 
who gave up the high-flying life for the 
1 g potential of Bunnydom. 
“To make ends meet as a stewardess, 
you 1 
one-bedroom apartment" says Jeri. "I 
carn three times as much as а Bunny 
than I did fing. Besides, I got tired of 


r cam 


"Tt is beautiful, Rapunzel. but we don't need it anymore, 
and its a fire hazard.” 


living out of a su 


food's my thing"—is Jeri's fa 
duty pastime. Tiki digs it, toc 
Galty is homebaked bread. Like siste 
York Bunny Gina Byrams, T 

started out cottontailing at the Baltimore 


g there briefly 


reopening following the fire 
, who 
nner to victory 


y's first annual Bunny Beauty 
Contest, recently transferred 10 the New 
York Club. 

Bunny Kay. who frequently presides 
at the turntables in the Club's psyche- 
delic g Room discotheque. decided 
to give up the stewardess life while she 
was ahead. “Things just kept happening 
on my flights.” Kir ns. "I worked 
only for about I 
went d two em 


talk people into taking out the 
as you're supposed то do in emer 
gencies.” Like Bunny Judy Juterbock 
Kay is a minister's d bout girls 
report paternal approval of their cotton- 
tail careers. (Bunny Cheryl Glickman 
enjoys even more active parental sup- 
port: her mother, a former Rockewte 
brought her into the Club at 16 to en- 
roll her for Bunny training. But Cheryl 
had to wait two years to reach. the min 


legal age for cottontails in New 
Avram had no unusual 
ing her year and a half 


m stewardess, d 
поре and the Carib- 
bean: but weird things starred happening 
to her when she returned Stateside and 
rented а house in Maple Glen, Pennsyl- 
vania—which, she says, was haunted by 
seven ghosts from the Civil War period. 
“Two of them were friendly, and we got 
quite well acquainted, except that they 
she reports. A fervent be- 
omena, Mary has 
witchcraft and magic— 
| not saying I'd 
cH, but I believe that it is 
practiced, world-wide.” 

Playboy keyholders from 
s who the New York 
1 find а face tha 
home Club. 


icai 


never spoke; 
liever in psychic ph 
boih 


studied 


oth visi 


Club can oft 


fore settling in New York four years 


ago. “There's a lot more 
here,” she explains, “New York i 
the ‘in’ city." Sandi Mechan 


Bunny ears in Chicago in 1961, when 
she became one of Playboy's first ^ 
ing Bunnies: she helped open the 51. 
Louis, Phoenix, Boston and Monir 
Hutches before coming to New York. 
By far the biggest lures of New York 
—to local girl and outoftowner alike 
—seem to be the theater, both on and 
off Broadway, and the city's abundance 
of vocal, dancing and drama coaches and 


en 


It can take care of any kind of thirst you can work up. 


Any kind. 


The Professional Thirst Quencher. 


PLAYBOY 


schools. Sue Doody (“I always tell people 
Howdy is my unde") studies dramatics 
at the Neighborhood Playhouse School 
on t 54th Street. Vikki Gatling works 
nights at the Club, leaving her days free 
for acting, singi 
classes, as well as agency visits and the- 
atrical auditions. Most of the latter end 
in disappointment, but one recent day 
Vikki hit the jackpot. On returning 
home from the Club, she found three 
messages from her answering service. 
One was for a modeling assignment and 
two were requests to read for low-budget 
films; she got a part in one of them. 
Karen Ferber, a 1969 graduate in art 
from Queens College, is studying a 
at the Herbert Berghof Studios. Be 
Bunny is her first full: 
walked whim and anal d," she 
says. Ing: коп came to New York 
from Tampa, Florida, to try for a model- 
ing career, in which she’s finding 
ing success. "If you сап make it in New 
York, you can make it anyplace,” she 
says. “I was really lost here at first, and 
preity broke. I had an apartment 
which the only furniture was a fo 
rubber mattress. Then, one night in Ap 
1969, a date took me to the Playboy 
Club and asked the Room Director if I 
could get a job as a Bunny. He re- 
ferred me to Jadee and I've been here 
ever since.” Inga appeared as the girl 
n the midi on this year’s Noel Harrison 
TV special, Mini, Midi, Maxi. Teleview 
ers may catch Bunny Janice Shilinsky 
as а carrepairing cottontail in a Ford 
Maverick commercial, amd on a forth- 
coming Joe Namath special, currently 
scheduled for September airing, on which 
she is to read ап о 1 poem, Masculin- 
ily. At the Club since only last October, 
Janice has won the title of Miss Con- 
necticut in five different pageants: Miss 
American Teenager, Miss High School of 


ng, piano and modeling 


Connecticut. Miss Star of the World, 
Miss World-U. S. nd Miss U. 
Universe. 


Petite Beth Fortenberry, a native of 
Gainesville, Texas, completed three years 
in drama at Oklahoma University before 


coming to New York to pursue her the 
“Being a Bunny has 


atrical ambitions. 
paid for all my lessons, 
"pm studying acting w 

at the 


Beth reports. 
h Betty Cash- 
Americain Ballet 


пс, I go to the theater.” That spare 
time is unusually limited at the moment: 
in the Performing Arts Repertory The- 
ater presentation of Young Tom Edison, 
she's playing the role of Tom's girlfriend. 

A veteran of show business is statu- 
esque redhead Fonda St. Paul, who's 
been dancing professionally since she 
was duce and singing since she was 13. 
Fonda danced in Myra Breckinridge and 
The Owl and the Pussycat and was 


220 an extra in The Landlord; she bas sung 


on the Johnny Carson show, appeared 
in Maybelline cosmetics and Burlington 
hose commercials, and a walk-on 
role in 20th Century-Fox's forthcoming 
The French Connection. It was the fles 
ible hours that made a Bunny са 
appealing to Fonda: 
ings at practice—singing, dancing and 
acting—my afternoons calling on agen 
cies and going to rehearsal, and my 
evenings in the VIP Room.” 

Showbiz ambitions also lured Tammy 
Hunt to New York. A soft-spoken cov 
тотай of Irish-Indian extraction. whose 
parents live on an outoftheway farm 
in Louisiana, she recalls: “We grew all 
our own food, shopped from a convert- 
ed school bus called ‘the rolling store, 
lived on corn pone, pinto beans and 
rice most of the time. Sometimes I pet 
a little homesick, but I don't think I 
could go back to chopping cotton every 
day, with our only entertainment going 
to church all day on Sunday and attend: 


er 
1 spend my morn- 


ing revival meetings every couple of 
weeks.” Tammy left home to attend 
high school in Biloxi, Mississippi, then 


entered а television-commercial contest 
and went оп tour promoting Pepsi-Cola 
and Mountain Dew. She ended up 
New York, principally because of its fine 
schools. “I'm trying to get up my nerve 
now to get a really good singing coach, 
she says. 

Before becoming a New York Bunny 
lost October, C: daa comely 
blend. of Maltese, English and Swedish 
descent—iraveled cress-counuy with two 
п а camper. While in Califor- 
she appeared in a short experimen- 
tal film: “There D was, in a red-velyet 
dress in the middle of a field, fighi 


the tune of Scarborough Fair. People 
passing by must have thought I was 
"The experience, however, whet- 


dice’s appetite for showbiz. 
ast the cinematic end of it. "I'm afraid 
the stage would be too demanding for 
me; Carolyn. Dark got her 
break. via television; she landed roles in 
five episodes of the Hawaii Five-O series 
while it was filming on location in Hono- 
lulu, where she lived for four years. 
Carolyn once owned her own boutique, 
The London in Honolulu; 


she sa 


when she sold it, she used the proceeds 
ipping out the 
mat- 


to buy an old car. After 
back scat and replacing it with 
mess Carolyn and а  Spanish-speal 
girlfriend set off on a three-month 
ploration of the remote arcas of Peru. 
Carolyn is also something of a baseball 
ingly, since her cou 


Another celebrity relative 
by pint-sized Marla Young, greatgreat- 
niece of Isadora Duncan. Marla grew up 
in Massachusetts, where she won an all- 
state drama award for her portrayal of a 
leading role in Sutton Vane's hardy per- 


ennial Outward Bound. Then she came 
to New York as governess for the chil 
dren of a prominent attorney and his 
wife—and to study at the Neighborhood 
Playhouse School Now enrolled in an 
acting workshop, Marla hopes to open a 
school of interpretive dancing for children 
on Cape Cod this summer. “We have 
some backers lined up already, so I'm 
optimistic,” she says. "New York's a 
great town, but people here don't take 
ime to realize they're alive. It was get 
ting to me and I don’t want to become a 
cold, hard bitch, So I took this chance to 
be a Bunny last September. It’s not just 
а job to me; I accept it as а challenge 
to do my best to get every single person 
I serve to smile.” This 97-pound dyna- 
mo, who once hitchhiked through Hol- 
land, England and France, is currently 
immersed in redecorating a loft apart 
ment in Lower Manhattan's newly popu- 
lar So Ho district artists’ colony. 

As might be expected of any group of 
90 girls, New York's Bunnies are devot 
ed to wideranging hobbies. Emma Pat- 
terson is a spirited equestyienne: "I live 
way at the end of the Bronx, only five 
minutes from a stable, so I can ride 
twice a week. except when it's frecz- 
ing outside.” Cheri Wright and Terre 
Marowa are among the ski buffs; Pam 
Powers digs yoga and sky diving: Michele 
McCarthy, ice skating, Carmel Atwell 
paints, plays softball and football; Cam- 
Bunny Rita Kustera plays the gui- 
Lisa Aromi and Tia Maza 
il McMahon 
s and an esti- 


tu; 
inveterate junk shoppers. G 


boasts six or seven торі! 
mated 50 medals for baton twirling. 
Since the age of 13, however, modeling 
been her major goal and she's now 
signed up with a prestigious model 
agency. “I'm ambitious,” 
want to become another Lauren Hu 
ton, or die tying." Gail may well be 
on the right track; Miss Hutton, onc of 
the nation’s hottest models and the Ie- 
ad in the recent film Little Fauss 
and Big Halsy, was herself a New York 
Bunny in 1963. 

Whether as actresses, models or carcer 
girls, the Bunnies of New York are li 
g the good life. They take in stride 
such annoyances as power shortages, 
strikes of everything from cops to taxi 
drivers and even invasions by milit 
women's libbers, Dimpled Gina 
a budding dancer and dot 
owner of a champagne-sipping black rab- 
bit named. Little One, was on duty in 
the Playmate Bar the day the liberation 
ladies stormed the New York Club. “You 
don't have to work here!” one of the 
demonstrators. admonished Gina, Draw- 
ing herself up to her full five fect, three 
inches, Gina coolly replied: “Yes, but I 
choose to." The message was clear: Don't 
[cel sorry for the Bunnies, ladies. They're 
there because they like it. 


“Why did I have te 
I never get where I want to go! 


o fall in love with m 


PLAYBOY 


222 


SCUBA—DO! 


the large number of fishermen and 
swimmers present. Farther north, espe- 
cially off the Maine coast, scuba divers. 
all but have the ocean to themselves. 
Obviously, you don't have to live near 
a body of salt water to strap on an 
aqualung and jump for the deep. Fresh 
water diving is an equally popular pas- 
time and many lakes, rivers and even 
quarries ате тіре for exploration. Flat- 
head Lake in northw Mon 
Lake Mead, Lake Tahoe and p: 
Lake Mich for example, all offer 
excellent conditions for both novices and 
experienced divers. If you don’t belong 
to a local scuba club, consider joining 
one; most sporting- goods stores can di 
rect you to the chapter in your are: 
It should hardly be necessary to point 
out that, when buying scuba equipment, 
y perative. The few 
ved by purchasing а itc piece 
of gear can eventually prove far more 
costly than. you 's no fun to 


stern 


s of 


dollars 


second. 


(continued from page 112) 


find that your air supply hus stopped 
functioning because of poor workman- 
ship when you're 10 feet below the sur- 
face. If you're not yet wet beh 

cars when it comes 10 scuba 


sport is all about. Air is compressed and 
stored ank that pped onto 
the diver's back. This compressed air i 
then fed into a device called a x. 
which reduces the air pressure to a level 


is мга 


that's equal to the pressure surrounding 
ihe diver. The diver obtains oxygen 


by inhaling it through a rubber mouth- 
piece; he exhales carbon dioxide back 
into the mouthpiece, where it empties 
out through exhaust ports, forming bub- 
bles that rise to the water's surlace. A 
mask that covers the eyes and nose, a 
pair of rubber swim fins, a weight belt, 
a back pack and an inflatable salety vest 
comprise the rest of his basic equipment. 
The entire outfit—tank. back pack, regu- 
lator, m ıd safety 


k. fins, weight belt 


“I know why you mistook me for my teenage daughter . . . 
it's the brand of cereal I eat.” 


cost about 5250. (Plus abou 
two dollars cach time an air tank is 
refilled.) Or you can purchase everything 
but the air tank (which weighs close ro 31 
ids) and then go to a scuba location 
an rent the tank for the durt 
tion of your stay. Incidentally, іп most 
states, you'll need to show a diving card 
luated from an 


vest 


pment. 
ic 


t you equ 

After the $250 initial outlay for ba 
equipment has been made, the really 
serious underwater enthusiast can spend 
additional thousands on highly sophisti 
cated options that will give him greater 
speed and maneuverability down below. 
For the d eking supplementary go- 
power, F: offers a hand- 
held, torpedo accessory called a 
Diver Propulsion Vehicle ($895), which 
will tow the user at about two knots, 
thus enabling him to cover a wide 
area in a relatively short period of time. 
(A tow vehicle similar to the DPV 
featured in the James Bond film Thun- 
derball.) Шоп also manufactures the 
ScaPlane (pictured on page 101), a n 
footlong  bauery-powered under 
sled with a builtin air supply that can 
be drawn upon in case of an emergency 
Plane is exceptionally simple 
giving you full aircraftlike ma 
y through a single control 
се, Е.О. В. the factory in Bel- 
is 51 


iei 


mont, California, 

The Subliminos Sca-Shell (pictured 
on page 101) is a unique underwater 
product. It consists of a Plexiglas half 
sphere attached by ropes to a wire plat- 
form filled with weights. When lowered 
over the side of a boat, the weighted 
platform sinks to the sea bottom, pulling 
the dome under water and wapping air 
inside; it thus provides an oasis under 
which divers may surface, remove their 
masks and. mouthpieces aud. talk—hence 
its nickname, “underwater phone booth. 
Oxygen released from the 
tanks keeps the bubble filled to capacity. 
Tt w 


divers’ own 


soon be available for about $200. 


If treastne hunting is your bag. you 
may wish to check ош a fe ic 
underwater-detection device the 


Discoverer 1I ($895). Manufactured by 
AZA Scientific, it can easily be held in 
the hand while swimming and will signal 
the presence of, say, а small anchor 
about ten feet, even if covered with sand. 

Underwater photography is probably 
the most popular aquatic pastime, since 
it doesn't take a great deal of expertise 
to return to the surface with some fa 
stic shots, Watertight camera ho 
many made of clear Plc; 
able for most cameras at prices tha 


begin 


ound $20. But if you'd care to invest 
in a camera that works equally well on 
land as it does in the sea—and needs no 
special housing—then give the Nikonos 
II a try. All you do is load the camera, 
leap into the water and you're off and 
shooting, all for about 5200. The 
atertight case keeps the film per- 
fecly dry, while the oversized controls 
allow for casy manipulation. 

For the semiprofessional or profession- 
al underwater photographer, Giddings 
Underwater Enterprises manufactures 
Niko-Mar ПІ camera housings for usc 
with two exceptionally sensitive pieces 
of equipment—the Nikon F and the 
Nikon Motor Drive 35mm. Prices for 
the housings alone are $350 and S: 
respectively. 
the same comp 


m- 


accompa 


y offers a hand 
chargeable 3400 K movie lamp ($129.50) 
that will aid in lighting the murkiest of 
sea bottoms. Or if you'd prefer to try 
your hand at making underwater mov 
ies, Canon offers the Scoopic 16, а 
16mm reflex camera with zoom lens, all 
housed in a Plexiglas casing mounted on 
a planing board for additional stability 
in the water. Price for the complete 
outfit is $192: 

Gliding through the depths in a world 
without signs or markers calls for full 


confidence in the gear that you have 
with you. The most important piece of 
equipment you can cany—alter your air 


tank and regulator. of course—is a diver’s 
watch. This precision instrument com 
in a variety of models; all have be 
pressure-tested to various depths and 
feature a rotating bezel that makes 
simple to compute the length of your 
dive, the remaining air in your 


er. For 5150, you c 
by Omega, a 
ch that’s been pressure- 
tested to 650 feet, The price includes a 
k band. Unusually severe diving 
conditions call for an extra-sturdy diving 
vatch—a Doxa Chronograph, for 
ample, which has been pressuretested 
to 900 feet and temperature-tested to 76 
degrees below zero. Available from U. S. 
Divers for $250, the Doxa comes with an 
additional builtin bonus—a stop watch. 
If you're still a fledgling diver and don't 
wish to invest this much in a chrono- 
graph, Sciko offers panese under- 
water calendar watch (also with rotating 
bezel) that's been pressure-tested to 492 
feet. And, best of all, it'll set you back 
only $75. At the other end of the 
price spectrum, you'll find Rolex's 18- 
kt-gold Date Submariner chronometer 
(51275), an exceptionally fine instrument 
that’s been pressuretested to 600 feet. 
Each Submariner comes with a special 
sliplock band that enables the owner to 


"Some of the love scenes here are pretty explicit." 


it over а wet-suit cuff as well as on 
bare wrist, 

OF course, there are dozens of other 
pieces of equipment that you can carry. 
Dacor, for example. manufactures a high- 
ly sensitive oil-filled depth gauge (533.50) 
that indicates how far you've descended. 
Scubapro solved the complicated 
procedure of determining decompression 
time on deep or repetitive dives with a 
device called the Automatic Decompres- 
sion Computer ($60). It computes the rate 
at which a diver should ascend, so he 
won't suffer the bends, Finally, two in- 


expensive items that will come in handy 
down under include: a U.S. Divers 
watertemperature gauge ($5.95), which 


can be attached to your watch band, and 
a Dacor underwater comp: 
features an adjustable wristband 
black luminous di 

Today, serious underwa 
and the fun-packed sport of scul 
ing are both growing at equally rapid 
rates. And relatively soon— possibly 
within this decade—you can expect their 
paths to cross in a most spectacular 
manner. Currently on the drawing 


board is a watertight module (called. 
habitat) that’s designed to serve as an 
underwater hide: Wi a few 
years, you should be able to purchase 
one and have it sunk where yau choose, 
at depths up to 83 fect. Then, say, on 
Friday after work, you'll tie your boat to 
a marker buoy and you and a 
will slip on. your scuba equipment 
descend to your glassenclosed getaway 
pad, which will serve as a submi 
home base for a few hours—or а weck- 
end of exploration. (The habitat, of 
course, will have its own air supply and 
the interior will be as comfortable as it 
is contemporary.) Then, later, you'll 
Jock the door of your pie эссп 
to the surface, and your waiting craft 
will whisk you back to urbia, relaxed and 
refreshed. 

So scuba div 


g is more than just a 
р exciting way of life. For 
pictorial proof, we refer you back to the 
photos of our Bahamian idyl, which 
begin on page 98. Bon voyage and 


dot 
[У] 


sport, it’s 


PLAYBOY 


POWER PLAY кг from мети) 


then, (It is difficult to be certain, for 
there is no central government office for 
collecting rate data.) But still at issue be- 
tween the public and the clectric moguls 
is the matter of environmental controls. 
Utility officials are not very subtle 
about their threats, If environmentalists 
continue to interfere, says New York 
Consolidated Edison's chairman, Charles 
Luce, “eventually it will have an effect 
when you uy to switch on the light.” 
And a top official at Boston Edison said, 
“We can probably meet our demands in 
New England if no more states pass those 
antipollution laws.” The fucl industry 
plays an equally obvious role in this 
psychological are. From Prudhoe 
Bay, Alaska, William Steif of the Scripps- 
Howard newspapers reports that in tal 


ing with a dozen of the nation's top oil 
executives, he Ie: 


ned that "the big oil 
companies are counting" on the possi 
bility of blackouts caused by energy 
shoriages to “brush aside objections of 
conscrvatiouists" to the construction of 
the highly controversial Alaskan pipe 

When onists protested th 
proposal of some oil and gas compa 
to use Federal atomic devices for blow 


conserva 


ing up portions of the Rocky Mountains 


in their quest for 42 billion dolla:s' 
worth of new gas Dr. Glenn Т. Se: 
borg, chairman of the Atomic Energy 
Commission and a friend of the industry, 
warned: "Todays outcries about the en- 
vironment will be nothing compared 
with the cries of angry citizens experi- 
encing blackouts which could endanger 
the health and lives of their famil 

The generator that sends electric 
out onc end is powered at the other by 
water, nuclear energy, coal, oil or паш- 
ral gas No conspiracy could depend 
on the first two, because water-powered 
generators supply 16 percent of our clec- 
tricity, and at present the nuclear gen- 
erators produce about two percent. The 
grcat sources are coal, oil and gas, and 
of these gas is the most important һе- 
cause it's virtually pollution-frce. There 
is an insatiable demand for it. 

And because th is such a demand, 
the gas producers two years ago “discov- 
cred” а shortage. objectives were 
to throw off FPC regulations, increase 
prices and get their hands on a larger 
share of the oil and gas of the outer 
continental shelf. Every trade magazine 
acknowledged that if gas prices were 
raised, the “shortage” would evaporate. 
Business Week flatly stated that the in- 
dustry was shooting for a 60 percent 
price increase, Others estimated a 100 
percent. boost, Charles T Wheatley, Jr 
1 manager of the American Pub- 
Association (which is run by 
municipal gas distributors, at the other 
end of the commercial spectrum from 
Shell, Gulf and the rest, and is the most 
nted sector of the indus- 


noted with apparent sarcasm that 
“the timing of the present asserted gas 
shortage is quite interesting,” because the 
industry's chicl lobbyist for a rate increase 
stated that he did not realize until 
Jate in 1968 or 1969 that there was any 
real gas shortage.” Strange. Wheatley’s 
suspicions were heightened by the re- 
membrance that, though 1954 had been a 
banner year for drilling, “а si [short 
ge] claim was made in 1955 when the 
industry sought passage of legislation to 
exempt producers from FPC regulation.” 
Many observers are convinced that the 
gas companies have plenty of reserves to 
meet the nation’s needs but have simply 
apped the wells to await higher prices. 
Dr. Bruce Netschert, an economist with 
National Economic Research Associates, 
daims that 500 gas wells in the outer 
continental shelf off Louisiana have been 
capped. Michigan Senator Philip Hart, 
whose Antitrust and Monopoly Sub- 
committee has been investigating gas 
prices, says that Louisiana officials "have 
found 1100 gas wells shut in, mostly 
g for higher wellhead prices." 
as prices are supposedly set by the 
FPC according to supply. But this is 
pretty much а farce, since the official 
supply is determined in secret session by 
the American Gas a group 
of so-called competitors—who have con- 
istently refused to disclose their records 
to the ЕРС. In other words, the FPC 
ply takes industry’s word and is happy to 
do so. Says John Flym 
itrust Subcommittei 
way gas reserves are predicted through 
the A. С. A. is a serious antitrust question. 
lt is a possible device for price-fixing.” 
What are the stakes? Joseph C. Swid- 
ler, chairman of the New York Public 
Service Commission, puts it this way: 
here are probably some 1500 trillion 
cubic feet of gas in our underground 
urces, Each cent [increase on the 
price] per 1000 cubic feet thus repre- 
sents 15 billion dollars for the consum- 
ing public" Thats 15 billion dollars 
for a onecent increase, yet, according to 
Flynn, "The FPC has been talking in 
terms of an 8- or 10-cent increase and 
industry wants 14 or 15 cents more." 
Another assault on the consumer's 
peace of mind and pocketbook came via 
the marketers of residual fuel oil, which 
fires the furnaces that turn. the gener 
tors that produce more than 90 percent 
of the electricity in the Northeast: oil 
figures heavily in electricity production 
in other areas as well, such as Florid: 
‘These days, residual oil is selling for 
twice the price it fetched a year ago. 
Industry spokesmen insist the oil is 
scarce for several reasons: Libya cut back 
on production. The big transArabian 
pipeline not been repaired since it 
was ruptured in Syria last усаг, There is 
a severe tanker shortage. 


nan Silvio Conte, at 
the Subcommittee on 
Speci, ess Problems, got to 
mulling over those excuses and began to 
suspect that somebody was lying. The 
oil industry had begun complaining 
about a "shortage nd had started 
pushing up its prices in April 1970. 
but, said Conte, “Тһе pipeline didn't 
break until May 3, 1970, and the Libyan 
cutback occurred sometime thercalter 

Furthermore, the pipeline was shut 
down for 100 days during 1969, yet there 
was no chim of a shortage or any in- 
crease in prices that year. And finally, 
‘Only about three percent of our [resid 
ual] oil is imported from the Middle 
East. The remaining 97 percent comes 
from Venezuela, Canada and our own 
domestic markets." Апа if уа was 
curtailing production, wouldn't this free 
tankers for the Venezuelan 1 

Putting it all together, Conte conclud. 
ed: “The price had gone up by such a 
huge amount—in some cases as much as 
130 percent on the East Coast—bcecause, 
I felt, there was a conspiracy among the 
domestic oil companies, the producers, 
in making this oil scarce, so that the 
price could be increased... . Let me put 
it this way. It is either a conspiracy or a 
gross miscalculation by the oil compa 
nies. And I can't believe that the oil 
companies would miscalculate the situa- 
tion, because they certainly have the 
finest backup force of any industry in 
the world, and they very, very seldom 
tke а miscalcula 
Coincidenta 
startling "scarcity" of coal and a sudden 
increase in its price. There were, as 
usual, suspicions of collusion, but nothing 
was done about Senator Hart ас 
testimony before his sub- 
committee raised serious questions as to 
“whether there has been a deliberate with- 
holding of coal from the market place.” 

The railroad companies were doing 
their share by creating a shortage of coal 
s. Many cars were allowed to stand 
idle rather than be used to deliver coal 
to the power plants, Everything was 
screwed up: One wainload of coal 
bound for New England stopped short 

nd returned to the mine; rail offici 

claimed the rerouting was a computer 
mistake. And delivery of coal was some- 
times delayed because the rail lines have 
allowed much of their equipment, in- 
duding roadbeds, to deteriorate. 

It was easy to cont 
because ownerships of the different fuel 
industries are tightly interwoven. With 
in the past five years, cight of the ten 
largest coal-mining companies, which pro 
duce half the coal in the U. S., have been 
purchased either by oil companies or 
by mineral companies or other large "en 
ergy” corporations. Since the oil com 
panies control maturakgas production, 
nd since they also control 45 percent 
or more of the known U 5 uranium 


reserves, which of course gives them dom- 
inance over nuclear power, the produc- 
tion of electricity is pretty much а matter 
of their whim, Clearly, control of supplies 
and prices is in capable hands. 

So critical is this threat of fuel mo- 
nopoly that it has overshadowed other 
monopolistic trends. Too little attention 
has been paid. for example. to the inter- 
locking banking relationships of the 
various industries that support the elec- 
tric utilities. А House Banking Commit- 
tee study shows that the 49 largest banks 
hold interlocking directorates with 36 of. 
the sı electric companies, 28 gas 
companies, 15» coal-mining companies, 
17 petroleum companies, 58 coalcarry- 
ing railroads. one oil-pipeline company 
and 27 companies supplying electrical 
transmission and distribution equipment. 

The Mellon National Bank & Trust 
Company, for example, which holds 52 
percent of all bank deposits in the Pitts- 
burgh area, has three interlocks with the 
Consolidation Coal Company: а total of 


six interlocks with General Electric, 
Westinghouse and Н. К. Porter, ай sup- 
pliers of electrictransmission, lighting 
and wiring equipment: a total of five 


interlocks with the Penn Central, Pitts- 
burgh and Like E Cleveland & Pitt 
burgh amd Pinsburgh, Fort Wayne & 
chicago Is: four interlocks with 
the Gulf Oil Corporation; and a total of 
seven interlocking directorates with the 


Pennsylvania Power and Light Com- 
pany, the Duquesne Light Company and 
the Monongahela Power Company of 
Ohio. All the biggest banks сап show 
similar ties. 

The point to keep in mind is that 
while a fucl monopoly can alllict our 
pocketbooks and our blood pressure, the 
linchpin that holds the overall power 
conspiracy together and guarantees maxi- 
mum profits for all concerned is the 
private electricpower monopoly. There 
are 40,000,000 households that use gas, 
but if the only issue were higher gas 
prices or a gas shortage, they could 
switch to other fucls—sometimes at gr 
expense, If the only issue were higher 
coal prices or a coal shortage, the switch 
could be made to oil or gus. And if the 
developing oil-gascoal_ monopoly made 
switching meaningless, the consumers 
could still fight it out without feeling 
panic, except that oil-gas-coal is elect 
ity, and there is по switching from th 

Having passed through: the panic fac- 
tory, we come back to the simpl 
ating truth: s no elecuicity 
shortage. In some densely populated 
yes, there are shortages as the 
of industry backwardness. But 
Шу there is no shortage, and the 


t. 


There 


ess. 


natio 
only problem is how to spread the exist- 
ing power around. 

Obviously, this is something the in- 
dustry does not exactly like to have 


publicized, 1 believe 1 have read every 
important article оп the power crisis 
printed ducing the past two years, Yet 1 
cannot recall ever seeing anyone men- 
tion what Federal Power Commission 
chai man John N. Nassikay 
Gong;essonal testimony just before 
1970's winter demands set in that "the 
et dependable capacity of the 48 con 
tiguous states is 326,667 megawatts, with 
an estimated peak demand of 257419 
megawatts.” That leaves a reserve capac 
ity—or surplus—of 27 percent, and “re 
serves of 15 to 20 percent are generally 
considered normal to gt 
expected equ 
peak loads than predicted.” 
appear, then. 
"need 


admitted 


id against un 


pment failures and higher 


I would 
concepts of 


that present 
tockeyed. The 


idea diat New York City "needs" to 
build more generating facilities in 
Queens or that the Los Angeles area 


“needs” а power plant at Ма to 
continue the devastation of the beach 
already begun in that way at Playa 
del Rey, El Segundo, Redondo Beach, 


Alamitos Bay and Huntington Beach; or 
that the Chicago area “needs” more 
generating facilities along the Lake Mich 
igan shore—solutions like these, with 
transmission technology being what it is 
today, аге about. as scientifically defensi- 
ble as rubbing the scalp with parsley to 
cure baldness. 

William E. 


Warne, a West Coast 


With all the leather | had to eat, 

I never thought I'd talk about 
aleather watchband. But this Speidel 
leather band is something else. 

It's comfortable and the Gilt-Edge 
sets it far ahead of every other 
watchband. This is lizard. You didn’t 


think it would be pigskin, 


you? 


m DL ee 


The Speidel 
Gilt-Edge Collection. 


Фі. a Toxron company 


225 


PLAYBOY 


water-resources and energy consultant, 
voices from expertise what the local resi- 
dents know from common sense: "[In 
such megalopolises as] Washington to 
Boston ... San Diego to Santa Barbara 
++. around southern Lake Michigan and 
elsewhere . . . there are not now, and 
are not going to be later. places for 
twice as many power plants by 1980 or 
seven times as many by 2000"—as the 
electricity demands would seem to dic 
tate building. “New York City simply 
cannot accommodate in its environs а 
multiplication of generating stations.” 

"The best and easiest way to avoid new 
stations is 10 establish a national trans- 
mission grid. This is the only way to 
take advantage of the national electricity 
surplus, tying together all major sources 
of power production and power con- 
"There are already regional 
grids and even a few important interre- 
gional grids, especially in the Far Wes 
but these are not suficient, as the схре- 
ences of the past few years clearly 
show. The national transmission picture 
is, as one Senate aide described it, "Like 
an interstate highway interspersed with 
gravel roads, detours and a few unbuilt 
bridges” 

The idca of a national grid was first 
seriously proposed in the Thirties, but 
the private power lobby has always mai 
aged to prevent it from becoming a 
reality. Senator. Muskie rightly blames 
the FPC for its failure to “face up to 
the needs for a national power network, 
We know how to build and regulate 
broadcast networks, sports networks, mer- 
chandising networks, food-distribution 
networks—but not a power network. 
And now we end up having hundreds of 
thousands of kilowatts of power unable 
to reach New York in an emergency be- 
transmission lines 


mission techniques to do the job. 
If there are only two electric systems 
terconnected and one system loses 25 
percent of its generating capacity be- 
cause a turbine goes out, chances ar 

that the combined systems will not have 
enough generating reserves to make up 
the deficiency. The result: blackouts, or 
at least brownouts. New York is suppos- 
edly backed up by the Pennsylvania-New 
Jersey-Maryland (P-J-M) Interconnection, 
but at the most crucial point in the 
summer of 1970 the backup P-J-M 
was itself riddled with so many problems 
that one fourth. of its generating capacity 
was out of action. There were boiler 
explosions, boiler-tube ruptures (seven 
in al), an explosion in a pulverizer 
mill, a kinked turbine spindle and more. 
The situation was a total mess. The 
manufacturers of — electric-power-plant 
equipment almost seem to be involved in 
а conspiracy of their own, for when they 
are not delivering needed equipment 


22% months late, what they are delivering 


CURRENT'S FUTURE г realistic appraisal of 


THE POWER LINES you sce stretching off at angles to the roads you drive, looping 
ipported by huge steel towers evenly 


across the countryside, their sagging folds s 
spaced through right of ways cut out of fam 
waits of electricity—but not enough, it seems. And demands on th 


па and woods, carry millions of 
cumbersome 


system that sends current through these slender conduits will double in ten years. 
Present technology will be inadequate for two reasons: the finite quantity of 
resources (coal, water, U-235) and the technological inefficiencies that are built 


into the production processes—wastefulness that turns up as pollution. The scien- 
lific problem is basic enough: Find a means of converting am available energy 
source into usable electrical power without discharging even more heat or soot 
into the sorely abused environment. 

The sun is one such source of energy, available—given the variables of 
weather and smog—for conversion, Solar energy is, in fact, already being con- 
verted into limited quantities of usable clectricity—in the space program especial- 
ly, Electrical power from solar cells could keep the Russian moon vehicle, Lunokhod 
1, lumbering across the lunar surface indefinitely, or until the Soviets lose interest. 
Some ambitious planners have suggested converting 300 square miles of reliably 
dry and sunny desert into a solar-energy collector. A more grandiose alternative 
would be to send huge collectors—squares some five miles across—into orbit 
around the earth, where, free of the vicissitudes of climate, they would concentrate 
sunlight and send it via microwave to receiving grids on earth, where it would be 
converted into electricity. Microwaves, however, are rather inefficient conductors; 
an even more vi 


onary solution might be laser beams. The science is, in both 
cases, sound, but the engineering techniques have yet to be perfected and would 


be staggeringly expensive, The size of the machinery that would be required to 
harness terrestrial energy sources, the winds and the tides, is equally awesome and 
improbable. And the machinery would desecrate the landscape. Hopefully, there 
is still time to consider aesthetics. 

Magnetohydrodynamics may be a winner. MHD eliminates the ponderous 
machinery upon which present generating systems depend by sending conductive 
gases under pressure and at superheated temperatures—i000 to 5000 degrees— 
through an electromagnetic field, thereby generating a current (a principle dis- 
covered by Michael Faraday in 1831). The greatest advantage of MHD is that 
it involves one energy transformation rather than the three (fuel to heat, water 
to steam, steam to rotary motion of conductors in a field) now required. The 
simplification translates into an efficiency level of 60 to 70 percent, compared with 
the 30 to 40 of existing plants, There is still the problem of resource availability 
(something has to heat up those gases), but MHD represents a significant advance, 
although, at present, there are no operating plants. 

One method of eliminating the plunder done to natural resources may be 
breeder reactors, Unlike the nuclear-power plants now in operation, they do not 
just burn up fucl but manufacture one fissionable material while consu! g an 
other. The scarcity of U-235, which the present nonbreeders use as fuel, makes 
al reactors mandatory, and work is going ahead smoothly. 
А few breeder plants will be operational in about ten years. In both types of 
us, nuclear power is used to make the steam that drives old-style 
turbines; that is, as a substitute for fossil fucls. The only problem this substitution 
solves is that of air pollution. There is no smoke. But the efficiency of energy 
ional plants (80 percent vs. a still 


development of economi 


conversion is actually lower than in conve 
dim 40). The waste is in the form of heat: therma 
al demand for clectricity projected for the ycar 2000 were met by nuclear plants, 
approximately one third of the daily fresh-water runoff in the U.S. would be 
r source linked to MHD mechanics would strcam- 


1 pollution. If the entire nation- 


required as a coolant, A пис 
line the operation and climinate a lot of that excess heat, but the most trouble- 
some and dangerous by product of nuclear fission radioactive waste—would still 


be around. 


the possibilities for power without pollution 


"There is another nuclear alternative; one that could be the perfect solution 
to the power problem. It is fusion, a process that charged hydrogen particles 
undergo in very special high-heat, high-pressure situations—something close to the 
core of the universe. The sun and the hydrogen bomb are brought to you 
through the courtesy of fusion. When scientists first set out in pursuit of fusion, 
they called the effort Project Sherwood, because—one story has it—someone an- 
swered the question “Wouldn't it be nice if we could achieve fusion?” with a 
happy “It sure would.” The first experimental reactor was called а perhapsatron, 
‘The carly, lighthearted efforts began to yield results and the United States, Great 
Britain and the Soviet Union jointly declassified their research and pooled re- 
sources. This unusual and hopeful cooperation bore fruit, and physicists now believe 
they can make controlled nuclear fusion, the ultimate and perfect energy source, 
into something you will someday thank for your warm apartment and well-lit city. 

А sustained fusion reaction depends on many facto 
temperatures involved, materials assume properties thar are so elusive that scien- 
tists have to refer 10 a fourth state of matte 


j. At the tremendous 


ained 


and call it plasma. A sust 
reaction depends on the confinement of this plasma. Gravity does this job for the 
sun; physicists use electromagnetic bottles. Until recently, plasma could be mag- 
ned only for a few sp below the 
ated the 


seconds and at a density fa 
level required for successful fusion. One researcher, David Bohm, est 
minimum time necessary, and from then on, the problem became beating Bohm's 
theoretical time. The Soviets have come dose and convinced most skeptics that 
there are no barriers to creating a sustained fusion reaction. 

Once this is accomplished, a powerful and clean (relative to present fission 
techniques) energy source will be available, The original plan was to use the high- 
temperat 


е reaction to heat a core that would transmit its energy to conventional 
generating machinery. Now scientists believe they may be able to take the high- 
speed charged partides from the reaction and convert them directly imo electric- 
g through the limits of madh 
ion plants, once they become avai 


ne efficiency and heat tolerance. 


le, сап be safely located near or in 
ies. The heat generated by such plants would be used to warm homes or offices 


E 
—or even cool them, using essentially the sume technique that makes refrigerators 
work on a gis flame. There would be enough surplus heat after that to distill 
ge. Finally, the in-city fusion plant could operate a 
ties: of environmental problems: garbage. The fusion 
torch, burning at its incredible temperatures, will break refuse down into its 
original elements for recycling. 

Breathtaking as all this is, there are doubters: very crucial doubters who are 
funding research into controlled fusion with exceeding parsimony. The United 
States currently spends $30,000,000 annually on fusion rescarch, That is roughly 
one percent of the space budget, However, economics may, paradoxically, be 
the salvation of [usion-generated power. The engincering requirements for fusion 
plants are tremendous and expensive; fission would be the bookkceper's choice 
at this time. But fission plants, because of their danger and adverse effects on the 
environment, must be located far away from populated areas. Their remote siting 


ad purify sea w: 
fusion torch to solve the n 


This 
ider the 


fusion plant, dose to or in the city, could drive this expense way dow 
savings may be the decisive factor when the power companies sit to con 
merits of fusion vs. fission. 

It's all remote, but there is a Jong list of breakthroughs that have occurred 
in this century, of s made into reality, Another factory sitting 
dle of your town not sound like an exciting prospect, even if that plant 
heats your house, purifies your water, runs your record player and disposes of 
your garbage. But there is something else to consider. If fusion can do all the 
thingy its advocates claim it can, there won't be as many of those looming, stressed. 


steel towers running off monotonously in all directions, holding up power lines 
‘There won't be as much goop in the a 


the mi 


is so shoddily made that it can almost 
be guaranteed to break down. 

However, if you interconnect all the 
major systems, the combined spinning 
reserve would take care of any cmergen- 
cy. And if the country were tied togeil 
er from coast to coast, there would be 
other great advantages resulting from 
the time and weather differentials. A 
summer evening's peak usage in New 
York puts a strain on Consolidated. Edi 
son's creaky equipment; but the West 
Coast. three hours behind. has not yet 
reached its peak usage and could bump 
surplus power to New York. Most power 
systems in the country are overloaded 
in summer because of air conditioning: 
some, such as the Pacific Northwest, have 
a winter peak and a summer surplus, 
These various systems could bump their 
seasonal surpluses around the country 
to meet demands elsewhere. 

Much of à company’s equipment can 
earn money only during peakuse pe- 
riods, which is why the electric giants 
are so slow about buying needed equip- 
ment. With a national grid, this wasted 
capital outlay could be avoided. 

The national grid would also be 
way to achieve almost immediate relief 
from air pollution. Given a serious at- 
mospheric inversion that traps 
ous levels of a utility's crud in the urban 

ir, the company could simply shut down 

its generators and import the powei 
needs from systems in other paris of 
thc country. 

Not only is construction of the nation- 
al grid possible: it could also be built 
quite swiftly and, as utility-equipment 
costs go. relatively cheaply. Robert O. 
Mari, executive director of the М 
souri Basin Systems Group, says that it 
would probably take no more than 1.6 
Dillion dollars to build a grid with the 
main directcurrent transmission lines 
running from the Pacific Northwest 
through the Wyoming-Montana coal 
fields to Chicago and then to New York. 
and the southern line running from Los 
Angeles to Four Corners (Arizona, Colo- 
rado, New Mexico and Utah), which 
already has a big generating complex, 
through the Liule Rock area to the TVA 
and then north to New York. (The 
stringing of these long lines, incidentally, 
will of course ultimately reduce the need 
for additional regional lines.) The grid 
could be built, Marritz believes, in three 
years—compared with the minimum of 
five years needed to build a new power 
plant that essentially has only local 
usefulness. 

We asked Kenneth Holum, who was 
assistant Interior Secretary for Water 
and Power Development for cight ycars 
under Kennedy and Johnson, if he 
agreed. He said he thought Maritz 
might be optimistic on the time needed 
to build a transmission system. Holum 
talks in terms 


of five or six years, but 227 


PLAYBOY 


228 


he conceded “Marritz is an engineer and 
I'm not. 
Marritz is also more optimistic on the 
mpact. With a national grid, he said, 
there would be no more blackouts or 
power shortages for decades, if just a 
moderately reasonable plant-construction 
program went along with it. Holum 
balked at predicting “по” blackouts or 
shortages, but he agreed that their pos- 
sibility would be “exceedingly remote.” 
On that, most experts would agree, So 
why hasn't the grid been buile That 
question cannot be answered fully with- 
out illustrating the atmosphere of the 
answer. On April 8, 1970. in л hearing 
before a Senate subcommittee, the 
Interior Secretary Walter J. Hickel said 
something that would have been unusual 
for а Democratic Cabinet official but was 
downright spectacular for a Nixon ap- 
ak we need a national 
Hickel went on talking 
nd indicated that he wanted 
ed to say more. After the 
з he told reporters, "Some people 
think it’s socialism, but it isn't 
Indeed, some people do think it is 
socialism. And some who think so were 
working within shouting distance of 
Hickcl Rumor has it that as soon as 
word of Hickel’s heresy got back to the 
Interior Department, his Assistant Secre- 
лгу for Water and Power Development, 
James R. Smith (who came to Washing- 
ton from an executive post with the 
hern Маша! Gas Company of 
ha), hurriedly called together every- 
the policy level and assured them 
kel hadn't really meant it but 
if he had meant it, he, James R. Smith, 
riend of private enterprise, intended to 
resign. Some in the power industry 


believe Hickel's remark on the national 
grid helped bring about his downfall, but 
this may be a parochial suspicion, 

Most private power executives hate 
and fear the idea of a uational grid. 
When blackouts and brownouts struck 
the East Coast in the 
1970, emergency supplies were 
into the New York arca from as far 
away as the Tennessee Valley Authority. 
This leaning on the TVA—still a bête 
noire t0 the pi 
the success of lor 


d the national grid specter. The PR 
offices of the major utilities began put- 
ting together antigrid material, just in 
case. 

There are several reasons for this op- 
position, aside from the fact that leaders 
of the private power industry simply 
don't like change. As we hi 
shown, there аге tremendous profits in 


isolation. Most stare regulatory bodies 
have so many other duries—overseeing 
road transport, railroads, elevators, 
phone companies, weighing stations— 
nd have so few trained personnel that 
they couldn't regulate the power compa- 
nies even if they wanted to. Texas has 
pushed isolation to the ultimate, refus- 
ing to any interstate power ties, so 
that it is not subject to any supervision 
from the Federal Power Commission— 
and there is no state agency that regu 
lates electric rates in Texas. As long as 
the enormously complex utility industry 
Keeps its activities chopped up into fick 
doms, realistic regulation is bound to be 
mpractical. 

But there are other major reasons why 
the grid is opposed. If the nation were 
lied together in this way, the resources 


“Am I supposed to smile, от what?” 


of the West would have to be acknowl- 
edged and—given a reasonable degree of 
public pressure—utilized, which would 


explode the "fuel 
One of the great, untapped 
sources of power in the U. S. is subi 


M the steam tr 
the earth's crust—mosily in the West 
re put to work turning turbines 
and generators, we would have an almost 
endless supply of electricity. Italy, Jap 
New Zealand and Russia, among othe 
countries, have been using steam to gen- 
erate electricity on a massive scale for 
years, 

Since 1960, geothermal energy has ac 
tually been turning generators in С 
fornia and is so efficient a source that oil 
companies—Union and Standard and 
others—have been buying into the ac- 


steam. 


tion all over California and Nevada 
Some experts that there is 
enough reachable geothermal energy un- 


der California's Imperial Valley alone to 
meet the electricity needs of 20,000,000 
people for decades at least The im- 
portant things about it are that it's 
cheaper than any power except hydro- 
electric, it does not incur the risks of nu 
dear installations, and it is nonpolluting. 

Also looking West: Of the nation's 
150,000,000 kilowatts of undeveloped 
hydroelectric power, 108,000,000 kilo- 
маць are in that region, according to 
the Federal Power Commission; this is 
impressive even as a fraction of the 
present total generating capacity of the 
nation (about 300,000,000 kilowatts), 
downright overwhelming, when one con- 
siders that it is about 13 times the power 
needed at the peak hour in New York 
City. 

More to the immediate point, the 
West has immense reserves of fossil fuel. 
Never mind the shale-oil potential. Pro- 


та 


duction methods for it are still too iffy. 
1. 


But one can speak practically of со 
H's there, it’s casy lo get at, it’s rel 
tively free of the kind of sulphur that 
pollutes the air. Sixty-four percent of 
the nation’s low-sulphur coal is in the 
West, and only four percent of it is being 
mined. 

The excitement that Western coal gen- 
erates in some people can be detected 


from the claims of Senator Metcalf thai 
"Montana coal has something like 100 


nes the energy source thar the East 
"Texas oil fields have. We can provide 
energy for America, all the energy, out 
of the coal fields of Montana for the 
next hundred years, We have that poten- 
ity. In North Dakota and Wyoming 
irs the sume. We could build up а 
minemouth power complex out there 
and set up transmission lines, and wc 
could literally light America from 
Maine lo Los Angele: 

Virtually all of the Western coal 
would have to be strip-mined, howevi 


and there is nothing in the Western 


air that reforms corporations, There is 
no reason to expect Humble Oil, for 
example, to operate with more environ- 

strip-mining its 
the 


mental decency when 
vast coal holdings in 
corporate brothers 
strip-mining the Eastern fields. 

But even if conservation guarantees 
could be worked out, there is no assur- 
ance that full utilization of the Western 
sources of geothermal energy, hydroelec 
tric power aud coal would come about 
easily, because the Eastern establishment 
might not want to cooperate. 

What has New York got to do with 
the development and transmission of 
power in the West? The answer to that 
touches one of the primary hang-ups in 
wying to establish the national grid. 
The big corporate guns of New York, 
who have helped create а sir 
chronic crisis from which to draw maxi- 
mum profit, de е the national pic 
re. Senator Aiken last year urged 
Congressional. investigators to look into 
nd, where private utilities— 
which charge the highest rates in the 
mation—recently spent half a million 
s in a lobbying campaign to ki 
alic power project. “The interlock- 
ing directorships and the deals between 
various executives might provide some 
exciting antitrust material,” he said. "It 
might also be well to take а very special 
look at the financing structure in control 
of this New England combine. It might. 
be shown tat scarcely а kilowatt can 
move the ap- 
proval of a Wall Street investment firm,” 

Somewhat the same thing might be 
said about the West. А recent study of 
ten of the big private utilities in the 
West, selected at random from stock- 
ownership reports filed with the FPC, 
showed that а majority of the ten kngest 
stockholders of each company were 
headquartered either in New York or 
Boston. 

If we, as a 
should ever ma 
tional grid, we м 
achieved industrial fission. 
fission 


West than 
e shown in 


ation of 


in New England withou 


nation of consumers, 
с t0 construct 
uld have, in a sense, 
Like nuclear 
he achievement could becom 
force for either good or evil. It will be 
most potent force for good if the high- 
voltage transmission lines that tie the 
nation together are owned and con- 
wollel by the Government and, like 

lable to e or 
wishes to 


a 


any 
pul у company that 
use them. On the other hand, if the 
Government does not retain control over 
the national grid, it could become the 
most oppressive weapon ever offered a 
monopoly indusuy—in this case a mo- 
nopoly interest that is becoming increas- 
ingly concentrated. 

There were 1060 private utility corpo- 
rations in 1945. Today there are 967. 
Serving as the best balance we have to 
the private companies are the 2010 


privi 


public and 921 rural electric co-op sys 
tems. But if the national grid's transmis 
sion lines fell into the hands of the 
private utilities, they would doubtless 
bring the public systems under their 


domination even more than they have 
of the public sys 
from the 


today. As it is, 


tems that must buy powe 
privates are geuing short shrift. 

X memorandum uncovered а 
ly in the summer of 1970 at 
before the Securities and 
Commission told of a two-day meeting in 
January 1968 at which 100 executives 
representing 66 private power companies 
got together in а Clayton, Missouri, mo- 
tel to exchange advice and experiences 
on how to kill municipal and co-op clec: 
wic systems. A leading role was takei 
by executives of the Edison Electric 
Institute, the private utilities trade asso- 

ion. The good soldiers of capitalism 

actics as refusing to sell 
power at wholesale prices to municipal 
power companies: lending money to com- 
munities with municipal plants, and then 
putting. the squeeze on them; and refus 
ing to let public utility companies come 
into pooling and joint power-supply 
arrangements. 

This cutthroat attitude on the part of 
private utilities is not at all unusual 
Arthur Jones, president of the Basin 
Electric Power Cooperative in Bismarck. 
North Dakota, one of the more aggressive 
populist outfits of the Midwest, says that 
if consumer-owned and public systems 
don't get to participate actively in the 
ng and ownership of the huge 
onal and interregional grids which 
€ coming, “the people's basic cleciric 
power supply eventually will be domi 
nated by those utilities that can 
manage to finance very large facilities. 
Domination of an electric grid by a 
utilitics ] the domination of essen- 
fuel supplies by a few oil companies 


discussed. such 


lew 


fe 
tin 
[will mean] price-fixing at the expense of 
the consumer and political conuol by 
Таре corporations," 

He could have made that much 
stronger amd still have been accurate. 
Pricefixing is achievable without thc 
grid. With a private grid, what can't 
they fix? The monopoly of the tele 
phone by A. T. & T. has been with us for 
years, The monopoly of the energy in- 
dusuy by a dozen major oil companies 
has been nt, if less visible, [or 
several у ational grid, which 
is surely inevitable, gets imo the hands 
of the comp: then 
the monopolistic control of all industrial 
essentials will have gone too fa 
verse. On the other hand, if the people, 
through their Government, own and con 
trol the grid, industry may at least be 
stalemated in its bid for a stangle hold 
оп both the sources and transmitters of 
electric power. 

Ba 


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to re 


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230 


STUFF OF POETRY continued from page 118) 


finally, battle. About what it was like to 
be stationed at some dusty Southwest air 
base, learning, with hundreds of stran- 
gers, how to fly treacherous military air- 
planes, And what that did to men—the 


way it forced them to become close to 
опе another; to become buddies, but 
at the ie forced them то be- 


come hard, because there were so many 
who couldn't learn and washed out 
were killed. Dickey says now, "The Army 
is the only place you'll hear somebody 
sty ‘I've got to go take care of my bud- 
dy.’ You don't see that kind of affection 
between men anywhere else.” He wants 
to write а novel about the experience of 
learning to fly. 

When Dickey returned from the War 
with his new passion for literature, he 
wanted the school that could serve this 
part of him best and settled on Vander- 
bilt, whose English department has one 
of the oldest and sturdiest reputations 
of any Southern school’s. He couldn't 
play football. A conference rule made 
transfers ineligible, so he tried track for 
his athletic release, running hurdles, a 
sport that he is clearly not built for but 
managed to master through characteris- 
perseverance, He was graduated mag- 
na cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa and 
earned a master’s in one year. Then he 


or 


form for Korea. 

This time, there was not much combat 
and less of the camaraderie that he had 
found in his first hitch. Не had married 
Maxine Syerson and had an infant child, 
Christopher. Alter naining young pilots 
for a time, he was again released from 
active duty and he returned to Rice. The 


school didn't really want him back. Like 
азат especially awed 
eyes 


most veterans, he w 
by the academic world, and in the 
of his superiors on the facult 
was brash, irreverent, insubordinate and 
drank too much. Two strained, uncom- 
fortable y aer, when he received a 
nt to write, he left. 

The grant cime 
Review, where Dickey's first published 
poem. The Shark at the Window, had 
appeared in 1951. They paid him $27 
for it. Now, in 1954, they were giving 
him $3500 so he could go off and write. 
He took his family to Cap d'Antibes and 
worked, and when the money гап out, 
he returned to the States and teaching, 
this time at the U y of Florid 

One year liter, impatient with the 
poverty of teaching and unwilling to 
undertake the long, dusty, scholarly route 
to a Ph.D. and the relative affluence of 
academic security—principally because 
the effort would divert his attention from 
the writing he was doing more and more 


us 


from the Sewanee 


ver 


of—he went to New York to find a job 
to make some money for my 
For the next six years, he wrote 
advertising copy, first. in Manhattan, 
then in his native Atlanta. He was good 
at writing and handling important ac 
counts and began to make a lot of money 
now about hav 
jingles for spots м 
In 1960, when he was in his fifth 
of advertising and making $50,000 
ar, he published his first book of 
poems. Like most volumes of poetry, it 
didn't sell. But it marked a critical 
point in Dickeys Ше. He was 37; the 
demands of his position as creative 
director in a large Atlanta agency left 
him little time to write; and he had an- 
other son, Kevin, so the needs of his 
family were larger than ever. But he had 
published a volume of poems and had 
been publishing poems for ten years; he 
was writing advertising simply to make 
money. 

His options were clear: settle into the 
comfortable pattern of upper-middle 


class living or leave it and write росиу 


the first place. He talked it over with hi 
wile, thought about it and, finally, quit 
his job. On the first morning of unem- 
ployment, he got up early and drove out 
to an archery range. It's one of his 
favorite diversions and he has, typically, 
made himself expert enough at it to win 
a number of порћіс on the range and 


kill several deer in the woods. He re- 
members thinking as he walked the 
course that morning, alone, since all 
the other range members were at work, 


that he had done exactly the right thing. 
That there really had never been any 
ity of his staying with advertising. 
But it took some time for things to 


money. things that never come to many 
poets, to start coming in. At one point 
he went on relief, and for the first few 
led, giving readings wherever 
as invited, sometimes for as little as 
nd a Greyhound bus ticket. He 
spent a year in Europe on a $5000 
Guggenheim grant, then returned to the 
0.5. and took a succession of jobs as 
esidence at Reed College (1963— 
1964), San Fernando Valley State College 
(1964-1966) and the University of Wis- 
consin (1906). In 1966, he won the N 
tional Book Award, and the days of bus 
trips for $75 readings w 
charges $3500. a figure he decided upon 
when he heard that it was what Al Capp 
demanded for his college appearances. 
“The poets of this country are going to 
get at least as much as the damn cartoon- 
ists, and I tell them to hold out for it like 
I do, because the colleges have got the 


over. Now he 


damn dough. I'm not going to see the 
poets of my generation picked up cheap: 

In 1966, he succeeded Stephen Spen 
der as poetry consultant to the 1 
Congress and stayed until 1968, when he 
took his present job as poct-in-residence 
at the University of South Carolina at 
Columbia. In 1970, at the age of 47, he 
had his year; a year that most poets only 
dicam of, 

That spring, Deliverance, his first nov- 
el, was published. It is the story of four 
middle-aged, middle-class men who are 
persuaded by the strongest and most 
daring of them to take а canoe trip 
down a wild, white-water Georgia river. 
Along the way, they encounter murde 
sodomy, ambush and near drowning. It 
is, in Dickey’s words, “a story about how 
decent men kill, a man will 
do when he to do it to survive.” The 
idea occurred to him in Europe and he 
spent seven years working with the book. 
The reviews were almost. unanimously. 
enthusiastic and the book st 
best-seller list, behind much slighter en- 
wies such as Love Story, for nearly the 
rest of the year. 

Warner Bros. bought the movie 
and paid Dickey to do the screenp 
wrote it in the late summer, after work 
ished on his two other books 
published in 1970: One was Self-Inter- 
views, an idea suggested to him in con- 
versation with Norman Mailer. The 
other, a volume of poems, The Ey 
beaters, Blood, Victory, Madness, Buck- 
head and Mercy, wl 
month before Deliverance. 

But it was Deliverance that made 1970 
Dickey’s усаг. The poetry had brought a 
measure of fame, status im the literary 
community and certainly an. impressive 
amount of money. The simple, clea 
images and the sustained narrative sense 


bout wl 


that characterize his work made him 
into something of a "people's poet"— 
the literary, not political, sense. Where 


other poets became more abstruse and 
nt, he stayed with his eltort to 
leep clarity.” But, in this age, a 
ter how well received or 
vigorously celebrated, can never achieve 
the broad fai nfluence of a novelist. 

However. the quieter success of his 
poetry over the years made Dickey into 
a unique first novelist. The money it 
means—at least 5500,000—hasn't changed 
anything. He and Maxine still live i 
the house that is their 32nd of the 2! 
car marriage. The house would surprise 
those who have the talk-show image of 
Dickey uated оп а man-made lake 
the Columbia, South C; а, suburbs, 
it is neither antebellum nor rural, but an 
е single-story building with per- 
haps a quarter acre of lawn, dotted. by 
abrupt azaleas and slender pines. Book- 
shelves dominate the interior, which was 
done in restrained modern by an Atlan 
decorator, On one wall of the living 


no 


е or 


oli 


“And so, when we heard of a white jungle queen... .” 


PLAYBOY 


room, there is a portrait, a small water 
color by an Allegheny Airlines ste! 
ess who fell some 5000 feet to her dea 
when a door on her plane mysteriously 
flew open in mid-light. The incident, 
reported іп a small, straightforward 
column in The New York Times, in- 
spired Falling, one of Dickcys longest, 
most imaginative and perhaps best 
poems. He moved the event over to the 
Midwest and had the girl fall several 
thousand feet, soaring through the 
and its great luminous wh 
taking her clothes olf piece by piece so 
that she might live in some lyrical free- 
dom throu the fall that would kill 
her when it ended in a Kansas cornfield. 
After the pocm appeared in The New 
Yorker, the painting arrived at Dickey's 
house, It was from a man who had been 
ting for the girl at the end of that 
man nted the poet to 
ve it and the poem she had written 
rench beside it. 

Just off the living room there is an 
ofice where Dickey replaced his old up- 
right typewriter with a new electric 
because he thought the additional speed 
might help him through the accumul: 
tion of routine comespondence and pa- 
perwork. It is a tight room packed with 
guitars, bows, trophies, a record pl 
and boxes of manuscripts and books. 
must do something about the chaos in 
my office," he says to himself in the jour- 
nal he records into a dictaphone for his 
secretary, а student at the un 
clcan-type onto onionskin 
fully into a looseleaf bi 

He likes the house and would rather 
spend his time there than anyplace 
else. When he travels, a lot of the house 
goes along. He has a six- and а 12-sting 
guitar with him when he's waiting in 
hotel rooms to appear on talk shows or 
perform some other ritual for his pub- 
lisher's publicity department. When a 
visitor appears, Dickey will ask if he 
likes country music. If the answer is yes, 
or beuer an informed yes, he'll open 
one of the two cases and play—very in- 
tense, very methodical and quite good. 
But he would rather be at home, wher 
he can listen to the records of Mike 
Russo, a young sign painter from Port 
land, Oregon, who plays a fine Lead- 
belly 12-string; Dickey wants him for the 
sound track of Deliverance. Then he 
will very patiently imitate each lick, 
practicing until he has it down well 
enough to do it with confidence the 
next time there are people around. At 
home, if the day is nice and he feels like 
it, he crowds his large frame into his 
dirty blue XK-E, his head nearly touch- 
ing the roof and his shoulders cramped 
almost as if he were back in the tiny 
bubble of a fighter aircraft, and drives 
out of town about 15 miles to a ficld- 
archery range set in the slash-pinc-and- 


232 palmetto country around Columbia. 


After he parks the car, he puts on a 
camouflage bush hat with the brim 
ned up on the sides, cowboy-style, 
then carefully snaps on the polished- 
leather wrist and finger guards, loops 
his belt through a small conical quiver 
that holds or seven pencil-thick 
aluminum arrows, stabilized by four 
bright-orange feathers, picks up the var- 
ished fiberglass bow and walks to the 
gets. The range is designed 
e hunters a sense of the adjustments 
they must make for distance, each lane 
carved through yarying distances of the 
pines and scrub oaks to a paper target 
stapled against a stack of hay bales. 
Dickcy toes the 
the shooter's spot 
his arrow. Then he takes a long, aud 
breath, pushes the bow out, holding it 
with the thumb and first two fingers of his 
large, heavily knuckled lelt hand and 
draws the resinous string back with three 
fingers of his right hand until the curled 
thumb rests alo his cheekbone. He 
holds the 45 pounds of tension for a 
few seconds, the muscles along his arm 
taut and straining, while he adjusts his 
aim. Then he releases and the arrow 
leaps to a trajectory that is as undeviat- 
ing as a taut wire and picrces the target 
nd hay bales with an almost silent 
mpact, sometimes going all the way 
through. 

As soon as the arrow is in flight, 
Dickey exhales with either а satisfied 
sort of grunt or an “Oh goddamn it, 
Jim!" He knows where it is going. 
Out of a possible 280, he usually scores 
bove 200. He makes truly finc scores 
some days, but his style is not that of an 
expert archer. He doen't make one 
sweeping motion and release at the end 
of it, seemingly without aiming, the way 
many of the best archers do. He relies on 
his strength to hold the bow at maximum 
tension, while he deliberately lincs up 
his shot. It is not an instinctive or 
rhythmic process and, by the last five 
targets, he is sweating with the exertion, 
but still just as methodical. Along the way, 
he stops to watch a huge black-and-yellow 
butterfly dart and hover through the 
dusty, pine-scented air or gaze at the 
oversized pine cones cluttered beneath 
one grove of trees. He even detours 
slightly to a spot where he once saw a 
big rattlesnake, hoping for another look. 

On his way home from the r i 
су somerimes stops for a beer 
bait shop. It is the kind of store that 
you sce along uwo-line highways just 
outside of towns throughout the South. 
There are tin signs advertising night 
crawlers, crickets апа minnows hung on. 
the walls and two gas pumps out front, 
the paint fading and chipped from their 
rounded surfaces until, to tourists who 
are ying to get through to Florida, 
they look like antiques. Inside, there is 
all manner of fishing equipment: long, 
gnarled cane poles leaning in a corner, 


Styrofoam ice chests and metal minnow 
buckets stacked against а wall, and 
likely imitations of minnows. insects а 
frogs spread inside glass display cases. 
The low, plywood ceiling is covered 
with cellophiane-wrapped plastic worms, 
some so long and brightly colored they 
look like exotic Asian snakes, There 
must be 5000 differently. designed and 
colored worms hu 
and, between sips of his beer, Dickey 
walks under them with his head tilled 
back marveling at the sight. He likes to 
bring outoftown friends along to look 
at this curiosity. 

After the archery, he wor 
weights, chin-up bars and tension de- 
vices to keep his body in the Kind of 
shape men 20 years younger can admire 
although he is a few pounds bove his 
old playing weight and worries about it. 
After that, some guitar playing and 
sometimes even a four-mile run around 
the lake; then he showers, has a drink and 
lunches with his wile. On pleasant days, 
they eat on the patio overlooking the 
lake, In the afternoons. he drives off 
to the college for l 


classes or works in 
the cluttered office dictating letter 
ing poetry—often in Italian, French, 
Spanish or German—or wiiting. He may 
nap before supper. At night, there are 
often parties in Columbia with neighbors, 
associates at the University or people who 
simply think he might make an interest- 
ing guest. He still finds himsclf occasion- 
ally cornered at these events by indignant 
women who want to know why he wrote 
such a "dirty book.” He answers, “I want- 
ed to tell the truth.” Usually, he is a 
delightful guest, who talks with the pro- 
fessors, lawyers, architects and business 
men about the possibility of trouble on 
the campus or about the university bas- 
ketball coach Frank McGuire's great 
team (almost all New York Сао 
with the wives about how lovely they 
look and how their children are doing at 
school. A lot of his Ше in Columbi. 
seems held over from the patterns of his 
advertising days in Atlanta: active, sub- 
urban and focused on his family. Looking 
at that life, its quiet order, one won- 
ders. He clearly likes it, since he has the 
money and adaptability to do whatever 
else would seem better. But reading the 
poetry and some of the exhilars 
i you cin easily 

at, as he sits in his comfort- 
able house, looking out at Lake Kathe 
пе ringed by other comfortable houses 
with their trim lawns and straight pines 
and crisscrossed by an ос 
boat towing water skiers, he must long 
for something else, something less com- 
fortable, something that is even а Бије 
dangerous. He must get that feeling par- 
ticularly іп the evenings, when he's hav- 
drink after working and he can 

; coming from Fort Jackson across 
the lake, the sound of basic trainees 


ional speed- 


wo things 
by whichaman 
is јиддед... 


Oneis 


hisscotch. 


Those Scots! They do get carried away 
when talking about their scotch. But they 
do have a point, 

Admit it...we all wear our scotch 
like a badge. 

ч АМ Pipers never forgets that! Pipers is 
finer; Pipers tastes better. So you cen ask for it 
proudly, enjoy it proudly, serve it proudly. 
The Scots wouldn’t have it any other way. 


Bless them. 


lipers 
It's made proudly, V 
Drink it that way. 


BLENDED 


y, SCOTCH WHISKY 


100 PIPERS - BLENDED SCOTCH WHISKY - 86 PROOF - SEAGRAM DISTILLERS COMPANY, NEW YORK 


PLAYBOY 


234 


dence as they return from 
a rille or 


y day o 
exhausting day 
more closer 


ange, an 
moved them one 
That sound must haw 
than hı s written: 


10 war, 
him even more 


Bul every night T sleep assured 

That the drums are going 

rach me at dawn like light 

Where I live, and my heart, my 
blood, and my family will assemble 

Four barely livable counts. Dismissed, 

Personnel. The sun is clear 

Of Basic Training. This lime, this 

Is my war and where in God's 

Name did it start? Іп peace, two, 
three, four: 

In peace peace peace peace 


One two 


In sleep. 
His subdued aud carefully ordered life 
is at odds with his reputation. To many, 
he sort of Hemingway who writes 
poetry, a big, hard-living man, more at 
home in the woods than anyplace else, 
who looks at both life and the woods a 
challenges, contests where strength and 
will ave all. And there is something to it, 
He remembers the discipline of his foot 
ball coaches as something essential to his 
later life. He has a clear idea of failure 
and says the word with a sort of loathing. 
There is a strong. sense of Nietzsche. in 
Deliv 
power 
the ан 
selves. 


belief in the strength. and 


The primitive aspca of his poetry, his 
Hemingway image, the “men alone" con- 
Deliverance and the sodomy 
novel have all given ammu- 
latent 
homosexual. Refuting that charge, when 
it is based on subtleties in your writing, 
almost as hard as proving evolution 
to а fundamentalist preacher, so Dickey 
doesn't bother. When one reviewer fo- 
cused on the theme in his review of 
Deliverance, Dickey's only response was 
exasperated, “I knew one of ‘em 
would do it. I sure. did." He finds the 
current obsession with homosexuality dis- 
seful and socially crippling. “I think 
it’s important for men to admire other 
n. I enjoy the company of men, Some 
of the finest times of my life have bee 
spent in the company of men. Buc if you 
throw your arm around another man's 
shoulder as a gesture of affection, you're 
spotted as a queer. Irs stupid. 

Critic Benjamin DeMott was more gen- 
erous in his review of Deliverance, t; 
Dickey to task mot for some presumed 
psychological displacement but for the 
size of his appetites. In à long piece in 
the Saturday R. called “The ‘More 
Life’ School and James Dickey.” DeMott 

both the 


n the 


scene 
nition to those who label Dickey 


the 


novel and 
cluded: that the 
Dickeys vision was impossibly vast 
intense and that it therefore failed ar- 
ically. (From Dickeys own jour 
there is this: “What E wish for man is а 
ter elasticity, а 


we 
poti 


ter 
пу го exp: pre 
conceptions") Dicke ers at DeMott's 
review. "What the hell's wrong with more 


much gie: 


uch gr 
nd few 


accessil nce 


“You know, I could kick myself when I think of all 
the years I spent fighting Medicare.” 


life? Does old Benjy want less life?” 

Some of the writers Dickey admires 
most wanted too much life. Agee, Wolfe 
and Hart Crane consumed themselves, 
but their ruined lives yielded great art 
nd Dickey seems to drive himself as 
hard as they did. Every now and then, a 
rumor will circulate around New York 


that he is in bad health. Like Agee, 
Wolfe and Cranc, he drink. He 
knows it and seems a litte curious 


about it: 
“I have always felt that T could drink 
with most men, but I could not stay with. 
Hart Crane's alcoholic consumption for 
half an hour, much less the days on end 
he kept it up. That kind of thing is 
beyond my temperament, I can drink 
probably more than most people, and 
probably do, but I am not really a very 
I guess I will last longer 
Or I hope so, at any rate.” 
Beyond the fact that Dickey has lived 
longer than these writers and is healthy, 
there is a sense of order and control in 
his fife that they did not have. He seems 
more exuberant than obsessed. When he 
is home, his life is quiet and, in a way, 
mitine: away. he goes to parties and 
spends afternoons drinking and talk 
with friends, He picks up his reputation 
then. 
AL some point, the image of Dickey as 
helbrtiser and e 
life becomes poli 


n ultr 
encour- 
d Eugene McCarthy in his Presidential 
«Поп and the men became friends. But 
his friendships are certainly no key to hi 
politics, if, indeed, lie has any 
liam Е. Buckley, Jc 
are his close fri 
from Mississippi but has left that state 

xd its politi behind, an odyssey 
> describes movingly in North Toward 
Home; under his regime, Harper's has 
onably left, yet Dickey thinks 
one of the finest n nes 
nd contributes to it frequently. 
While he has never written for National 
Review, the conser journal edited 
and published by Buckley, the Dickeys 
and Buckleys are warm friends and re- 
ciprocate house visits, After the publica- 
tion of Deliverance, a New York editor 
commented diat there are. two things in 
the would that you simply don't do: 
“Debate publicly with William F. Buck- 
ley or go fasta g with J 
Dickey.” Both of them follow this sage 
advice. But Dickey does a great imitatio 
of Buckley. He has a fine mimetic fair 
and uses it on characters as diverse as 
George Wallace, Marlon Brando and 
Georgia sherills. His crowd stopper is, of 
all things, a лахо ас hog. He cm draw 
his big shoulders into a tight droop, 
thrust his broad forehead out and begin 
bobbing and snorting until he act 


gone fash 
that it 


ve 


ames 


Their Bn оу, It really 


lets bose When they see 
unfinished fürniture. 

Itl let them have the 
bright, wild colors they can 
only do themselves. 

Their cigarette? Viceroy. 
They wont settle for less. 
Its a matter of taste. 


Viceroy gives you all the taste, all he time. 


© 1970, BROWN & WILLIAMSON TOBACCO CORP. 


King Size, V. mg. "tar; 12 mg. nicotine: Long Size, 19 mg Tar." 14 mg ricotine av. per tigarete, РТС Report Nov. 10. 


PLAYBOY 


236 


resemble ап old razorback. 
sheriff is even more convincing: The 
narrowed eyes, pinched mouth, clipped 
and menacing speech and Dickeys own 
bulk are all perfect. To some people, it 
seems too good to be pure imitation. 
When he is with people, he would. 
rather do his mimicry or talk from his 
encyclopedic knowledge of literature than 
get into politics. When the conversation 
does turn to national events or person: 
ties, he becomes silent and restless, be- 
gins looking around the room as if he 
were considering escape, In fact, his 
primary response to the whole subject 
is boredom. The unimaginative and 
brutally tiresome language of politics 
must be too much for a poet to bear. 
He probably supported McCarthy be- 
cause he thought it would be nice to 
have a poet instead of a rancher in the 
White House. Whatever his politics, he 
does not sign petitions or actively cum- 
paign or do any of the other things the 
committed literati do. When he capi 
izes on his success, it is not for the sake 
ing. 
He loves to be recognized for his 
ius and, when he is, Пе gives a good 
show. When he reads, his patrician 
Southern accent builds and flows through 
the narrative and hovers carefully over 
the gems of revelation; he reads his 
poems the way old Southem preachers 
read the Gospel, always with reverence, 
sometimes with renewed awe—the mes 
sage lives—and always with an eye to the 
unenlightened, since no routine delivery 
will move their spirits, and to let them 
y unchanged is to fail in the eyes 
of either God or muse. The spirit of 
m moves him in the classroom 
nd he is remembered by his 
students as one of the most provocative 
teachers they have ever encountered. 
Adanta has heard one of his great read- 
ago at an arts festival— 
some of his greit teaching, in a 
at Georgia Tech. 
with Dickey when he recently 
returned to Atlanta for a cocktail party 
held in his honor at the Atlanta. Me 
morial Arts Center, sponsored by Con- 
tempora, e published 
iu the city. The party was on a Monday, 
but Dickey wanted to get down to At 
Тата early to do some shopping with his 
son for his 12th birthday and ro see 
friends and family, including his seriously 
ill father. After the party, there would 
be time to do some canoeing with his 
fiends Lewis King and Al Braselton, 
identified in the dedication of Deliver- 
ance as “companions.” He decided to 
leave Columbia around noon Saturday. 
That morning, we һай breakfast on the 
patio. Table conversation. with Dickey 
ranges unpredictably over any number 
of subjects, some as close as his preference 
in directors for the movie of Deliverance 
is point, the Irishman, John Boor- 
man—others as remote as this morning's 


ings—three years 
and 


—at 


c philosophy. He says 


Socrati 


philosophers have 

mc cnormousl 
What must it have been like to be 
а thinker in those days, when men 
really did have the illusion that the 
whole composition could be reduced 
to one or two clements: when men 
really did think that they could find 
the answer: the answer, the only 
one? 


We talked and the convers 
more animated, Dickey was making 
sweeping gestures with his knife 
fork, then he abruptly left the cable 
returned with Bertrand Russell's History 
of Western Philosophy When he sat 
back down, he leafed quickly through the 
book until he found the passage on Wil- 
liam James's pragmatism he wanted and 
read it aloud, savoring Russell's surcism: 

But this is only a form of the subjec- 
tivist madness that is characte! of 
modern philosophy. looked up grin- 
а sid, “Subjectivise madness 
ly awfully good, you know." 
actuates a lot of his declarations 
but it is a conscious 
question with him; he expects you to 
answer it; he wants to mike sure you 
: things as much as he does, 
He is a great shave 

After breakfast, he worked for a cou- 
ple of hours, then packed his bags and 
loaded them in his wife's station. wagon. 
She drove; Dickey, his motherindaw, 
Kevin and I were passengers. 

He travels impatiently. First, he crosses 
and reaoses his legs, then he tics to 
sleep, sometimes he talks and eventually 
he and Kevin sing jingles from his ad- 
g days This wip was mercifully 
and he was cheerful when he 
checked in—with a collection of luggage 
t included two guitars, a hunting bow 
with broadhead arrows attached in a bow 
Г a dozen suitcases and a 
bag of liquor—at the new, 
mcy Hyatt House, 
which is built around а courtyard, with 
blue elevators looking like the bubbles 
of Portuguese men-of-war rising up 23 
floors above the lobby, He talked with 
the bellhop about the guitar, found out 
he was working his way through college 
and gave him a big tip, then settled into 
the room, Liter in the evening, the 
editor of Contempora, Раша Putney, а 
ad 
ved 


re: 


atwactive, eager woman, her husband 
another couple, friends of theirs, an 
at the hotel for drinks and dinner. Be- 
fore dinner, Dickey played the guitar, 
basking for 30 minutes or so in the ap- 
predation of his guests. 

The next afternoon, Lewis King came 
by the hotel. He and Dickey talked for 
an hour or so about the canoe trip King 
had set up for Tuesday. King is the 
model for half of the Lewis Medlock 


character in Deliverance, the man of in. 
credible strength and drive who соп 
ces the others to take the canoe trip. 
King has the spirit and the “striking blue 
eyes” of the fictional character, but not 
the physique—that is Dickeys. King 
lithe, wiry, with the body of a fine tennis 
player. In fact, he had just returned from 
a tournament in Puerto Rico, where he 
had made the semifinals, As he and 
Dicke talked, drinking Scotch 
hotclbathroom glasses, it sounded like 
dialog from the book and Dickey would 
interrupt, smiling, from time to time to 
say, “I seem to have read it all some- 
where before,” sliding his tongue almost 
crotically over cach word. 

That ht, there was 
at his brother's house. Tom Dickey 
a friend arrived late. They had been 
down around the Florida line looking 
for Civil War projectiles. He is expert 
in the field of Civil War ordnance; he 
has written a book on the subject and 
accumulated а museum of relics from 
that conflict. that includes. out tire 
tons of unexploded shells piled in his 
basement. Tom's car had broken down 
somewhere around Jacksonville, so they 
rode the bus back to Atlanta and walked 
imo the dinner paty about an hour 
He carried a pillow case that held 
a “Yankee hundred-pounder” that he 
showed to the assembled guests before he 
1 with the friend to his workshop: 


from. 


retin 


- Everybody except 
slender 
writes 


ncingly about her 


а beautify 
grayhaired woman, who | 


and complains uncony 


eccentric husband, thought it was all 
very funny, 
"Tom almost made the 1948 Olympic 


team as a middle-distance runner, losing 
out in the finals. He still has the body 
of a dash man and you get the fecling 
that, except for his hobby—which has 
had him sneaking around national monu- 
ments with mine detectors I: 
once taking fire from a zealous park 
guard—he has never really cared about 
much else in life the way he cared about 
running tack. He is one of those genial, 
mbitionless men who never get ulcers or 
find themselves overweight, think life 
is enormously amusing and can tell great, 
funny stories, usually making themselves 
the fool. The brothers enjoy cach. other, 
telling the stories, jokes and lies, and 
remembering old moments of athletic 
glory or complaining about wives or talk- 
ing casually about the strange paths the 
lives of two ordinary South others 
have taken—wr the 


The dinner went well, except for one 
bad moment, when Dickey agreed to 
give a short interview to a young girl who 
had somehow found out where he was 
and phoned, Maxine was furious, but the 
aisis passed when the girl arrived, ask- 
ing not for an interview but for Dickey 


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уо really need Jack Purcells 


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And that's why your feet need the extra help in 
Jack Purcells. 

What makes Jack Purcells different is the rigid 
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What these wedges do is shift your weight to 
the outside of each foot. Thereby distributing your 
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a 
TX 


That helps you to keep going longer and per- 
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off the field. 

There's а lot more to Jack Purcells. The best 
materials. Great styling. Other good things to take 
care of your feet and keep them comfortable. 

But what makes us pros at the care and footing 
of the now-and-then athleteisour exclusive Posture 


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Get it. And lose your 
amateur footing. 
JACK PURCELL. The only one with the wedge. 


PLAYBOY 


238 


(P 


“Dear Larry: As I stand here, letting my 
eyes ravish the opulent contours of my secretary, whose 
full bosom thrusts out against her tight dress, I 


am ansa 


to read lier poems. He begged off polite- 
I, observing alter the gil lett, “I'm not 
itera * He runs into this sort. 


a 
Чу, just as any famous 


writer does. He uies to answer all the 
mail—except letters asking him “how to 
break into the poetry market"—and то 


terviews he can. It can be 
convenient, but he tolerates it. 


sive all the i 
vastly 


ant to be a shrinking violet.” 

National Book Award in 

poctry, he possibility of another and a 
Pulitzer for the novel, and the other 


wards he has accumulated, he doesn’t 
need—in any psychological sense—ihe 
attention of young girls who write bad 
poetry or of professors or even of the 
people in Adanta who were giving the 
cocktail party in his honor, He had just 
come off а long promotional tour for the 
novel, the мием device for killing a 
er's love of attention, and could be 
iven if he turned even his friends 


so after spending the next day with 1 
1 his wife drove to the Arts 

ter at six o'dock for the party. 
Dickey's friends Braselton and Ki 
there, along with a number of 
Adlanians, including М 

sell. There were two 
table of hors d'oeuvres; it was a quiet, 
gracious party, nobody appearing par- 
ticularly concerned with Dickey, which 
seemed to suit him as he moved casily 
around the big room, introducing himself 
10 people or talking with old friends. 
About an hour into the party, Paula 
Putney began moving everybody toward 
one corner, where Massell stood with 
the plaque he was giving Dickey. When 
things quieted, the mayor talked—a br 
little speech full of onediners, beginning 


vering your letter of March sixth. . . . 


» 


with something like, "Lm not used to 
speaking before large crowds." 
one of those stick political sp 
has everybody laughing and 
speaker for his manifest qualities o£ wit 
and humility. A tov t to follow. 

Dickey stood awkwardly, grinning and 
looking at the Moor, while the guests 
dapped, then he raised his head and be- 
ng in a soft, hi 

‘On these occasions, its alwa 
to thank your wile, friends, С 
everyone else [or making it 
That's all very nice 

sinister pause, and I 
might be ready to ‹ 
But he went on: "So I'd like to accept 
this in the name of the Atlanta writers 
d artists because 1 come from ame 
them.” That got а bigger hand th 
of the mayor's one-liners. 

At dawn the next morning, AI Brasel- 
ton picked us up at the hotel. We drove 
through the empty streets to King’s 
house, where we put his two cmoes—a 
battered 13-foot Grumman and a newer 
17-00. the two саг 
tops, On the way out of town, we stopped 
for breakfast at a small café, picking up 
a couple of six-packs of beer at the next 
door grocery; this trip was more for 
pleasure than danger. We made one 
more stop on the two-hour drive north, 
this time for spare paddles, since they 
are easily lost or broken im fast water. 
As we approached the launching site for 
the tip, we got onto narrow, two- 
1s, cut through the exposed r 
of the Georgia hills. Roads like this 
to cause a tremendous erosion problem, 
and engineers and farmers tried for years 
to find a satisfactory way to heal the bar- 
ren gashes bulldozers left behind for 


s in order 
йу and 


Alu Crafi—on. 


то; 


the rains to gulley and wear down, The 
“solution” they found, perhaps 20 у 
ago, was kudzu, a waxy green ivy-like 
plam from Japan that will grow in al- 
most any kind of soil, and it was planted 
along roadsides all over the South, But 
Kudzu has its drawbacks, the most serious 
being t 
up telephone pole: 
roads, even over buildings. People s 
t it will someday literally “cover the 
South.” It is also fine cover for snakes 
a real problem for farmers whose live- 
stock wander into its tangles. Onc of 
Dickey's early poems is about kudzu and 
the grotesque meetings that occur when 
farmers turn pigs loose in verdant mat- 
of the vine. The pigs are too tough 
1t to be hurt by the serpents’ bites 
and, as they feed on the plant, there is 
squealing, snorting and thrashing mixed 
with the Dande writhing of the s 
as they are stomped to death, It is a 
savage, primitive sight that Dickey ren- 
perfectly. When he is driving with 
iest or stranger and sees the vine 
growing on the roadside, Dickey will 
quietly tell him, “It’s worth your life to 
walk in there. So many sn: 
We tuned off 
road, down a rough 


the kudzu-bordered 
t trail that ended 


оп a quiet bend in the river, took the 
canoe off Braselion’s car, put it in King's 
station wagon and crowded with it, 
going back up the main road to a spot 
five or six miles upstream. We launched 
the canoes near ап old, one-room store 
that had rusty tin softdrink signs and 
peeling cardboard. snuff advertisements 
covering its outside walls. An old, short, 
toothless woman gave us permission to 
park the car there, saying, “Lots of fellas 
leaves their cars here, you go right on." 
It was Dickey’s first time on the water in 
ten years. 

Не had been away from Adana and 
the friends he did that sort of thing with 
for all those years. though King had in. 
vited him down for some tips during 
that time. The travel couldn't have becu 
a problem to a man who moves around 
much as Dickey does. But he was work- 
ing on Deliverance then. As the book 
began to evolve, his respect for the riv 
must have grown, ший it became s 
thing real and genuinely treacherous in 
the way most of the rivers he and his 
friends handled were not (although they 
have had some bad . Just as Faulk- 
ner must have been a recluse as much 
ош of a reluctance—as well as out of his 
renowned misanthropy—to scc the real 
had 


world he d transformed 
through his im to a mythic 
county, a county he really lived in and 
didn't want tarnished or upset by any 
damn reality, Dickey must have been 
obsessed with his own imaginary river. 
for most of those ten years: 


But the sound was changing, getting 
deeper and more massively frantic 


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PLAYBOY 


240 W 


ative, It was the old 
s also new, it was 
the reverbei 


and author 
sound, but 
a fuller one су 


h their ove 
it was like a 


tones and undertones: 
ground-bass that was made of all the 


sounds of the river we'd heard since 
wed been on it. God, God. I 
thought, 1 know what it is. Ш it's a 
falls we're gone. 


The previous Sunday, when Lew King 
came by the hotel, he told Dickey that 
he had found the perfect spot for film 
ing Deliverance. Every detail was ther 
In fact, he was a little suspicious that 
Dickey might have been there once; it 
Was just too good. 

We unloaded the Ginoes and carried 
them awkwardly down the steep, aum- 
bling clay bank to the river, quiet, almost 
placid here; its unrippled surface covered 
by a thin, dusty coat of yellow pollen. 
Long crooked branches hung out ovei 
the banks, shielding the water from the 


August sun that would soon drench the 


red Georg 


hills in a stolid, gripping 
wave of heat. King and Braselton took 
the smaller cinoe and the lead, paddling 
effortlessly down to the first wide bend. 
Dickey and 1 followed. He was in the 
г, in conuol of our course. We had 
rows 
paddles, fota 
ns and a six-pack of beer 
the canoe. For the first quarter of a mile 
ог so, the river moved tranquilly, the 
quiet black water broken only by an 
i boulder or jagged ach 
egularly above its own reflec- 
key yelled to King, "Is this all 
there is to it? E thought you had some 
good water for us!” King assured Dickey, 
t gets better up ahead.” We paddled 
and sipped beer 
As we came around a wide, shady bend, 
there was a noise like а long breeze that 
held and grew until we had to shout 
above it. Coming out of the bend, the 
ightened and was broken by ап 
nd. To the right, there was 
piling over 
ng around gray rocks, thunderi 
every other sound wa 
whelmed, Along the left, а thin ch 
gh more white wate 


found its way back into the swift cut. 
and Braselton lined up to try it. 
They shot downstream, close to the 
shore and were almost to the compara- 
tive quiet of a pool below when they 
The bow caught a rock on thc 
right border of the channel and the stern 
swung quickly around: when the canoe 
was almost perfectly broadside to the 
current, it went over. Dickey and E were 
following too closely, and as we went 
past the overturned canoe, we also veered 
around broadside and went over. There 
с four of us, two canoes full of water 


lost 


—weighing almost half a 
fast as the cuire 


movin 


paddles, four cushions, two six-packs of 

beer, Dickey's bow and arrows, and as- 
y S, 

sorted sunglasses, hats and notebe 


tossing around in the water. King seized 
the bow and one of the six-packs. The 
rest of us recovered paddles and cush- 
ions and whatever else we could grab. 
We stood chestdeep in the cool, rush- 
ing water, tying to steady the canoes 
amd ourselves against the fast cui 
that pushed the water around us 
drove the heavy, halfsunken craft away 
from our grip. 

We got the canoes into shallow water, 
dumped out die water, reloaded. and 
walked them 10 a quieter spot to start 
over. King was worried about the hunt 
ing arrows Dickey carried in his quiver. 

Jim, you better get rid of those 
broadheads, they could hurt somebody." 
They were covered by a plastic guard 
nd Dickey said they were OK, so we 
went o 
As we pushed off, Dickey shouted, 

Look at that!” We all turned. Dickey 
was waving his paddle toward the section 
of water we had just come through: the 
isind with the fast water on both its 
sides; the slate gray that broke the white, 
frothy surface; the woods, maple, gum, 
oak and an occasional looming, almost 
blue, pine. Dickey hollered, "Just look 

Goddamn it, 1 wrote the right 


st and at the 
l to ger out and 
drag the canoes across the shallow gravel 
bottom of the river. Then we came to a 
wide arc, shallow rapids that ran from 
the left bank almost all the way across 
the river. There was no right bank, only 
huge boulder that rose 20 fect out of 
the w It was deep enough for the 
canoes, but the passage ran at almost а 
perfect right angle to the river's course 
until it reached the rock. Then it turned 
out abruptly, so that the course we had 
хо steer was shaped almost like a boon 
erang. King and Brasclton made it to the 
rock, bur couldn't pivot fast enough and 
went over. They were waiting just below 
the angle for us. Dickey and 1 didn't do 
any better. King went after our lost gea 
nd, when he handed the bow back, the 
hunting arrows were ропе. Two 
arrows were still in the bow quiver and 
King just said, "No, I didn't throw those 
broadheads away.” 

We had good water for the nest mile 
or so: rapids that were deep enough to 
shoot or deep channels so close to the 


The water is low in Au 


next two. rapid. 


we h 


bank that we had to push springy 
aches away from our faces. As we ran 


downstream, Dickey stcadyi 


ig the canoe 


while [ stood to pick a course, the sun 


г dothes and burned ou 
nd Braselton had worked 
and were out of sight when we сате back 
into deep, almost still water. We paddled 
slowly, watching the 1 n 


the rest, The woods grew all the way to 
the bank—dense, shady and obscure. 
Quiet except for the occasional " 
of an invisible bird. Dickey recited some 
of the descriptive passages from Del 
ance and repeated something he had 
before, when talking about the book 
"Out here, you really are on you 
You could break your leg or be bitten by 
a snake and it would be hours before you 
could get help. You'd have to do what 
you could for yourself 
We came around a bend saw 
Braselton holding his canoe up against 
the bank, while King swam out in the 
middle of the river. As I leaned for- 
ward for balance, Dickey stripped to join 
him. They swam for 15 minutes or so, 
diving and treading water while they 
talked, two naked men, cooling off in a 
deep spot on the Chattahoochee River i 
the middle of а hot summer d 
began. downst 
that the best water was just ahead. 
King and Braselton called this familiar 
n of the river Malachoit Point. For 
almost half a mile, it was fast and shal- 
low. Through the middle, broken ridges 
of rock rose high cnough to make the 
water impassable, but there 
nel that ran up 
out into the river, then back again, made 
another journey to the bank, then shot 
back out to a steep, ed 
falls. King 


and 


the current, moving slighty [a 


the ri in order to steer- 
aye. They accelerated in the trough 
long the bank, slipped out toward the 
river's center, heeled quickly around as 


ed direction again and 
nd with a 
through the spray of the 
icd four-foot drop into 
below. It was the first 
four trips that they had made i 
through there. We followed and after 
hanging up on one of the shallow gravel 
beds, stayed with the flow, kept the right 
speed and balance and aimed direaly at 
the narrow drop. We went through 
quickly, but as the bow went over, the 
water in the bottom of the canoe sloshed 
forward; it was enough weight to drive 
the bow under and we slowly submerged. 
From then on, the trip was pleasantly 
uneventful. 

the 


the channel cha: 


finally turned one last time 
rush 


went 


or so, the wi 
was мі idled downstream, 
dipping our into the pale-green 
water, Dickey would shout from time to 
time: "When I get back to that hotel, 
In going to drink about five hundred 
double maht agh. Early 
in the afternoon, soaked and dried several 
times, shins and elbows rubbed and 
skinned against flat river rocks, shoulders 
ching from carrying and paddling the 
canoes, we reached the bridge above the 
spot where we had left Braselton's 
Alter picking up the other car, k 


лт 


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The basic difference between them and us is 
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Sound, any sound from ony source; tape. disc 
or off the air is virtually unchanged by Marantz. So that 
when you listen it’s os if there is nothing between you 


\ 


fl 


and the source of sound. The result is an exciting imme 
аосу. A startling sense of reality. Pure stereo. 

Marantz makes the most expensive stereo 
equipment on earth. Our Model 49 FM receiver costs 
51000. But we also have a $249 Marantz, and others in 
between 

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Й 


PLAYBOY 


242 


LAST CHANCE TO 
SEE BEAUTIFUL „ 


EXOTIC VIET NAM 


the gear and shopping at the old wom- 
an’s store, we sat in the sun and ate 
n improvised "seafood dinner": s 
dines, crackers, salted peanuts and Pepsi 
Cola from cans, then drove back to Lew 
King’s house. 

Joan King had a dinner party planned 
for that night and didn't want her 
thirsty male guests fooling around in the 
liquor cabinet before they cleaned up 
and changed. Dickey moaned and plead- 
«а with enough diarm to make her г 
lent As we stood around the kitchen 
misi nks, he left for a minute and 
returned with an open anthology of hi 
poems. He read from it in a careful, low 


voice: 
And there is another that 
boiled with white, 

Where Brasclion and 1 clung and 
fought 

With our own canoe 

That flung us in the rapids we had 
ridden 


stone, 


BEFORE WE 


So that it might turn and take on 
A ton of mountain water 


And swing and bear down through 
the flying clond 

Of foam upon our violent rock 

And pin us there. 

Wah our backs to the wall of that 
boulder, 

We yelled and kept it off us as we 
could, 

Broke both paddles, 


Then wedged it with the paddle 
митру ир over 

The rock (ill the hull split, and it 
leapt and fell 

Into the afterfall. 

In life preservers we whirled our- 
selves away 

And floated aimlessly down into 
calm water 

Turning like objects. 


па sofas, 


for the first time 
since dawn. Weariness helped the Scotch 
long as the friends talked, running that 
and other rivers again, rebuilding each 
event, polishing them to sustain the ex- 
citement or expand the humor until they 
were perfect. They talked about poets 
and Al Braselton recited some Dylan 
Thomas—imitating that poet's reading 
style almost perfectly. Dickey said that he 
had read some of Thomas’ stuff when he 
first started traveling to the colleges, al- 
most ten years before, but that he had 
given it up because “you can't beat that 
act.” Then they talked about the filming 
of Deliverance, about the right actor for 
each. part, about the location. Then back 
to that day's trip. And others. 

Dickey was clearh his best with men 
he liked and admired. having shared 
something with them that made the 
drinking and reminiscing not merely 
justified but necessary, He never changed 
from the nylon flight suit he wears for 
canocing— dries out fast" When the 
guests be; iving—all old friends— 


sitting comfortably 


he retold the story of the da 


teasing the women by adding details 
from Deliverance. He played the guitar 
with Roger Williams, former Atlanta 
bureau chief for Tone, who had utken 
a leave to freelance and was currently 
working on a book about Julian Bond. 
They worked against each other on 
Wildwood Flower—both play the guitar 
competitively—but it was understood and 
friendly. Braselton pl. 
did a verse or two from Talkin’ Liberal 
Blues, а satire he wrote, After dinner, 
Dickey, tired and still in the flight su 
went back to the hotel. He was leaving 
ihe next day. We said goodbye outside 
hiis door. 


Jim Dickey would be an extraordinary 
п even if he still wrote advertising, He 


m 
is a former fighter pilot who hur 
with a bow, challenges fast wa 
canoe, lifts weights as vigorou 
90-year-old, drives a sports 
and speaks five languages. He is enter- 
taining; he can take the most significa 
xomplishment and reduce it to some- 
thing routine. “I've donc my obli 
to those prose boys,” he'll say of Deliv 
ance. He can play the moun 
the reluctant intellectual doe 
want to have one goddamn thing to do 
with all this highbrow stuff, and at the 
same time, review books for the Sewanee 
R АШ that сап be noted, retold 
and dramatized on book jackets. But the 
part of the man that doesn’t lend itself 
to cryptic ancedotage, to р: 
sons with Hemingway or to facile py 
chological interpretation is the most 
important. And that all happens when 
he goes into his office and sits down, 
alone with the English language. 


who 


пеш. 


asy coi 


RISEN SUN 


(continued jrom page 168) 
fools of themselves or of someone else. 
Even the custom of bowing, so odd to 
Westen eyes, is fraught with signals 
People adjust their angle of incline ac- 
cording to the rank of the other person: 
higher if bowing to a subordinate, low- 
er for superiors, youth deferring to age. 
women to men. For most Japanese, the 
correct observance of protocol is a matter 
of course. But it does give rise to а sense 
of shame and obligation, to the fear that 
one may lose respect or cause its loss in 
another—and it explains why foreigners 
often find it dificult to get a candid no 
to а straight question. 

We in the West are inclined to pride 
ourselves on the cultivation and applica- 
tion of logic and orderly thought. proc 
esses im a given situation. Ideally, we use 
our language to convey direct ideas 
through explicit words, and we become 
uneasy when confronted with ambigui- 
tics. The Japanese usc their language to 
create а mood, have several 
vocabularies that they employ according 
to the rank of the person they address. 
Husbands to wives, company presidents 
to vice-presidents, teachers to students, 
all use key words that denote social posi- 
tion in conversation. The emperor has a 
special set of pronouns that he uses on 
formal occasions in reference to himself 
and he speaks a court language so archaic 
that when he read the Imperial an- 
nouncement of Japan’s defeat at the end 
of the War, his specch had to be trans- 
lated for the benefit of the п subjects 
who couldn't understand him. To quote 
a Japanese scholar: “After living in the 
West, one develops a rational mind. Thi 
is useless if one must live in Japan.” 

By our standards, the Japanese may 
п a strange people, but we could 
kam much from their unique and 
intricacies of 
existence, the allimportant nuances of 
Japanese life. The foreigner who takes 
the trouble to examine and understand 
at for every seem- 
ing quirk of custom or tradi п 
Japan, he could find something equally 
bizarre in the habits of his own people. 

The islands that comprise this singu- 
lar country cover a narrow arc of the 
globe off the East Asian mainland. Su- 
perimposed over a map of the North 
American continent (with whose east 
coast it shares roughly the same latitude 
and climate), Japan would reach ap. 
proximately from Montreal to a point 
below Adama. Including minor islands, 
the total land s around 142,000. 
square miles, but much of this is unin- 
habitable mountain range, and. nearly all 
of the population of some 103,000,000 


and they 


practical approaches to the 


these soon discovers th 


ion 


arca 


lives along the narrow coastal plai 
comprise about 20 percent of its terri- 
tory. In terms of the ratio of inha 
to area, it is as though almost half the 
population of the United States lived 
in les than one fifth of the state of 
Montana. Tokyo and the other principal 
cities, Osaka, Yokohama, Kyoto and 
Kobe, are on the main island of Honshu 
the other three biggest islands are Hok- 
kaido in the north, Kyushu in the south, 
and Shikoku, sandwiched between Kyu- 
shu and the lower flank of Honshu. 

The tourist in Japan is served by 
roads, 
lines, as well 


a comprehensive network of 
highways and domestic 
as by such functional novelties as high- 
speed hydrofoils. In Tokyo, a monorail 
runs between Haneda International Air- 
port and the downtown termi 
superbly eficient subway and overhead 
commuter systems (all marked with Eng- 
lish station signs) reach every main 
district of the city. Super-expresses com. 
plete the 320-mile rail journey between 
Osaka and Tokyo in just over three 
hours. Passengers сап shop for gifts in a 
small store on the train, read the тара 
zines provided and use the train’s tele 
phone to call cities along the route. The 
doors between cars slide open at the 
touch of a foot on a rubber mat and. 
when the conductor makes his ticket 
rounds, he bows and begs to be par- 
doned for the intrusion. Girls in starched 
white aprons pass along the aisles dis- 
pensing hot towels and cold drinks. 
Americans, wearily resigned to the surly 
and uncertain pattern of railroad service 
at home, are stunned by the experience. 

But Japan offers the unexpected al- 
most everywhere one turns: Construc- 


tion crews work furiously around the 
clock in cighthour shifts and then. pass 
out in a coma of fatigue when the 


whistle blows; office workers limber up 
during breaks by running around the 
moat of the Imperial Palace or joining 
in group calisthenics on the office roof; 
factory hands sing company anthems be- 
fore beginning the day's production. In 
the Shikoku town of Takamatsu, visitors 
һ a day to spare (the preparation 
takes about that long) can enjoy a meal 
that commemorates a battle and re- 
creates the positions of the belligerents. 
Known as Once Upon a Time Genji 
and Heike Stew, after the old Japanese 
stories, it is a feast of pigeon, crab, fish, 
bamboo, bean curd, ginkgo nuts, rad- 
ides and lotus shoots, complete with 
edible palace, castle, warriors and 
armor, with lobster ships sailing across 
fish-paste seas. On the remote island 
sushima, bare-breasted women dive 
for shellfish, while at the warm spas of 
Kyushu, bathe buried to their 
necks in steaming sind or gently stewed 


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243 


PLAYBOY 


in bubbling hot springs surrounded by 
palms and tropical trees 
To the Japanese, none of whom lives 
more than 100 miles from the sea, the 
beauty of their coast and countryside is 
nothing les than sacred. On morning 
commuter trains to Tokyo from the 
southwest, sober-faced civil servants and 
x es sit engrossed in thei 
newspapers, rarely speaking to anybody 
pparently oblivious of the scenery 
that rushes past the windows. But on 
clear days, when the train passes а well 
known vantage point for Mount Fuji, 
they stop reading as if on signal and 
rush to the windows on the left to "sce 
how Fuji looks today." They spend the 
next five minutes or so in lyrical discus 
sion of the view before returning to 
their Asahi or Yomiuri Shimbun. These 
same men can often be found on weck- 
ends, sitting in а rowboat on Lake Y; 
manaka and admiring two Fuji 
—the real one and its reflect 
might take the family 10 п 
moshita, а mountainous rete: 
edge of a deep, fir-dad gorge, down 
which the rain and mist drift in de 
shrouds, clinging to the high ground Ji 
fine gauze. In the spring, the [a 
petals of cherry blossoms are 


8 
ight by 
the wind, showering the valley with a 


snowstorm of pink and white. 

Japan is Hokkaido in the nonb, a 
sparsely populated land of spectacular 
ruggedness; Nag: and Hiroshi 
signposts on the road to Armageddon 
the old imperial capital of Kyoto, with 
its 2000 shrines and temples, castles and 
palaces; and Mount Aso, the world's 
largest active volcano. Iv's the birthplace 
of the samur jor and the kamikaze 
pilot, the home of Madame Buiterfly, 
the world’s fastest trains, largest city, 
tallest hotel. Religion, history, culture— 
past, present and future—fact and 
legend are woven through the fabric of 
the country, with no Clear boundaries 
to divide one from the other. Its great 
cities have been razed by man and 
nature—shuddered to death 
quakes, smashed to rubble by й 
and atomic bombs—only to reappcar 


war 


almost before the dust can dear, re- 
built to face once again whatev 

fates hold in store. Japan is opt 

and pessimism, too much pride а 
not enough, innovatorimittor, con- 


formistradical, teacher-pupil, sensualist- 
liction upon contradiction, 

ble, unpredictable coun- 
wy, conquered only once in war but 
never crushed. 


At the geographical 
center is Tokyo. The capital lies at the 
northern end of the Japanese megalopo- 


lis, a chain of connected cities that ex- 
tends about 370 miles south to Kobe and 
contains almost 51,000,000 people, about 
half the country's population, Some 
16,000,000 work in the capital every day 
nated 12,500,000 live the 


ag it the world’s largest metropolis. 
Tokyo is the city of the rising gorge. 
а gaudy, dizzy sprawl that m 
hattan seem like Walden Pond. It is 
а city on the rampage to Buddha knows 
where, а tangled mass of superhighways, 
steel towers, rapers, cramped sub- 
urbs and stupelying ü 
it for the fist time, 


many visitors are 
plunged into depression, disillusioned 
beyond their wildest nightmares by the 
enormity of this urban anarchy. Except 


for a handful of central thoroughfares, 
nonc of the streets is named; buildings 
are numbered according to their order 
Of construction, not to designate their 
location. If several houses are built si- 
multancously on the same lot, they aic 
bered identically, and some streets 
If а dozen or more buildings with 
same numerical address. 
Cars, trucks, buses and moto: s 
choke every main street and, when the 
lights change, pedestrians fice across 
terror, pursued by the worst drivers on 
carth and, at some main intersection 


nt citizens over publi 
address systems. The gravest threat. posed 
fe and limb is the infamous Tokyo 
cabdriver, a vestigial descendant of the 
samurai warrior, whose traditional code 
of chivalry included a standing ir 


Чоп to decapitue on the spot 
commoner who behaves in a m 
other than expected. 


many pcople and machines in Tokyo 
and, consequently, too much of their 
smothering by-products: smog, smell and 
din. Voic shriek from sp ers attached 
to light poles, exhorting passers-by to 


wash their hair with this or clean thei 
dentures with that. It’s too hot in the 
summer, too cold in the winter. Tokyo 


should long since have succumbed to 
one or the other of its many afflictions, 
but it hasn't, It has thrived in its roar- 
ing bedlam, grown steadily kuger, more 
confusing and more exciting. Few cities 
anywhere can match its infinity of seduce 
tive pleasures. 

Amid the neon and concrete, the eye 
is suddenly bewitched by a small det 
an unexpected glimpse of the other J 
pana arrangement of rock, water and 
bamboo in the lobby of a bank; a pago 
with its gabled roof glinting above 
the trees of a park; a garden that has 
been nurtured for centuries; a solemn 
temple with its chanting priests; or the 
secretive Imperial Palace, hidden behind 
a moat and forbidding walls. One sees a 
crowd of high school girls in brilliantly 
colored kimonos, or a dosed rickshaw 
being pulled through a dark street in 
Akasaka, carrying a geisha to an assig 
tion with her patron teahouse. In 
the martiakarts halls, visitors watch in 
lence as teams of young men, 
some in bloodstained tunics, stand in 
rigid karate posture while their instruc 
tor walks the lines, stopping now and 


awed 


then to deliver a sudden kick to some 
unfortunate whose foot is planted at the 
wrong angle, Or they can see displays of 
judo or of kendo, a style of two-handed 
fencing with stout poles. And to gain an 
even greater understanding of the rever- 
ence the Japanese have for their coun- 
пуз chivalric past, they need travel no 
further than the Sengakuji Temple, 
which houses the graves of the renowned 
47 ronin (musterless samu: 
mitted mass harakiri some 270 years ago 
alter avenging the death of their dis- 
honored lord and master. Hundreds of 
families pay homage and burn incense at 


) who com 


the graves, sighing over the relics in the 
small 


You must realize," one 
ed, "suicide is а way 


museum. 
intance exp! 
Japan.” 

Such manifestations of the culture— 
kimonos, pagodas and temples—are con- 
crete; the foreigner sees these because he 
looks for them. But others, just as char- 
acteristically Japanese, are not so casy to 
note. Perhaps most loreign—at least 
to Americins—is the system of womb-to- 
lism. Being hired. 
à ining 
owe the company loyal- 
nd hard work and, in return, receive 
ifelong security. Although salaries ave 
low by American standards, raises come 
regularly and outstanding work may be 
rewarded with clandestine gifts and 
bonuses. Three to six months’ pay рег 
bonus is not unusual Extra benefits or- 
dinarily include expense accounts. (even 
for fairly low-level cmployces), medical 
insurance, low-cost company housing, 
company hospitals, ational facilities, 
i ny cale- 
teria, subsidies for transportation to and 
from work, and family-vacation tours 
and excursions to resort areas, often com- 
pany owned. 

Many other cultural expressions of 
the Japanese character may be evi 
comprehensible to the first-time 
because they are ritual, and it 
that sometimes lead the 
asume that foreigners know 
about the everyday niceti 
for example, should remove his topcoat 
before entering a Japanese house ( 
put it back on again when he 
ot before). And it is not 
remove one's shoes inside; one should 
so place them neatly side by side, toes 
pointing toward the exit; and a polite 
tor would never turn his back to his 
host while removing them. He wears 
house slippers provided inside the door, 
but discards them before walking oi 
latami matti king care to avo 


visitor, 
s these 


a scroll), the guest knows he is be 
n the place of honor. Other posi 
around the room denote the status 
ich occupant, that nearest the door 
being the lowest. A Japanese can walk 


be a very sexy violinist.” 


to 


ot what you think. He happens 


“Tvs т 


245 


246 


PLAYBOY’S CAPSULE GUIDE TO A JAPANESE HOLIDAY 


HOTELS 


Best of the many luxury Western-style hotels are, al- 
phabetically, Hilton, Imperial, New Otani, Okura and 
Pataca, all self-contained minicities with dozens of bars, 
restaurants, stores, rooftop lounges, etc. Hilton, New Otani 
and Okura—all convenient to central Akasaka district— 
have swimming pools, gardens, Imperial is downtown; 
Palace overlooks Imperial Household Gardens. Style, 
comfort, amenities give New Otani the edge over rivals. 
Also in first-class category is Akasaka Tokyu, new and 
modern; rooms smallish, but Akasaka is a strong plus. 
Opening next month is Keio Plaza in Shinjuku; color TV 
in all rooms, many bars, stores, restaurants, night clubs. 
Pool. All top hotels air conditioned; tipping is expected 
only for baggage porters and exceptional services. 


DINING 


Restaurants, most listed under main specialty dish served, 
are located by district; exact addresses can usually be 
obtained at your hotel or by calling Tourist Information 
Center at 502-1461. Your hotel can also provide a map 
with directions in Japanese for your cabdriver. For those 
unaccustomed to sitting on cushions on the floor, many 
restaurants have sunken kotalsu wells for diners’ legs; 
others offer tables and chairs. Better inquire first. Tokyo's 
most exclusive Japanese restaurants don't ordinarily admit 
strangers—even natives—unless they are introduced by 
known customers, but no such establishment is listed here. 


CHANKO-NABE (rich stews of meat and fish, traditional 
favorite of sumo wrestlers): Chanko, Akasaka. 

FUGU (seasonal, delicately flavored blowfish): Fukugen, 
Tsukiji; city's finest fugu, reservation needed. 

ODEN (plebeian-but-pungent mixture of pastry and vegeta- 
bles served in large bowls): Otako, Ginza. 

OKARIBAYAKI (barbecued beef, game): Fujino, Shimbashi. 
SUKIYAKI (chicken or beef with vegetables, cooked in 
Soy sauce): Yugiri, Ginza-Higashi, best beef, attentive serv- 
ice, air conditioned; Rangetsu, Ginza, Western rooms 
downstairs. Japanese up: Happo-En, Shiroganedai, and 
Jisaku, Akashicho, same management, quality beef and 
chicken sukiyakl, modest prices. 

SUSHI (seaweed-wrapped cake of rice and fish): Kiraku, 
near Tsukijl Fish Market, freshest seafood, atmospheric 
surroundings; Ozasa, Ginza, tiny premises, attracts con- 
noisseurs, crowded after seven P. M 

TEMPURA (shrimp, fish and vegetables deep-fried in 
batter): Inagiku, Nihonbashi Kayaba-cho, formal. head 
man was chef to an Imperial Japanese army general: 
Ten-Ichi, Ginza and Akasaka Tokyu Hotel, less costly than 
Inagiku, tempura almost as savory. 

TEPPANYAKI (tenderest beef and other delicacies grilled 
оп hot counter slab): Benihana, Ginza, home base of U. S. 
branches, finest Kobe beef and juicy oysters; Seryna, 
Roppongi, steaks cooked on heated rocks, a dozen dif- 
ferent crab dishes: Ryu. Roppongl. Kobe beef, open late 
for local swingers; Akasaka Misono, Akasaka, king-sized 
Kobe entrees, pleasant garden; Chaco, Shimbashi, small 
room, large steaks. 

YAKITORI (skewered beef and chicken, charbroiled): 
Torigin, Ginza, small and scruffy but a favorite with visit- 
ing celebrities; Toricho, Ginza, mouth-watering chicken; 
Isehiro, Kyobashl established yakitori leader, stark decor, 
CHINESE: Szechwan, Shimbashl, peppery North China 
offerings: Sun Ya, Shimbashi, Cantonese style; Sanno 
Hanten, Nagata-cho, Shanghai specialties; Akasaka Liu 


Yuan, Akasaka Tokyu Hotel. unspectacular but convenient 
for late-nighters, 24-hour bar. 

KOREAN: Taisho En, Ginza, tangy barbecued beef. 

For other Oriental and Japanese delicacies, stroll through 
Yuraku Food Center, near Ginza, where snack counters 
and restaurants serve sushi, tempura, curries, steaks, sea- 
food; popular lunch stop for local office girls. 

INDIAN: Nair's, Ginza, spicy curries, moderate prices. 
CONTINENTAL: Moustache, Roppongi, French, tempera- 
mental. can be excellent; Maxim's, Ginza, legitimate Asian 
offspring of Parisian aristocrat. 

GERMAN: Lohmeyer's, Ginza, rustic Teutonic fare. 
ITALIAN: Antonio’s, Zaimokucho, Italian owner prepares 
customers' favorites. 

KOSHER: Anne Dinken's, Akasaka, Tokyo version of Stage 
Deli, presided over by authentic motherly yente. 


NIGHT LIFE 


Like some Tokyo restaurants, a number of clubs and bars 
will not admit strangers; but again, no such establish- 
ment is mentioned here. Listed by district. 


AKASAKA: Byblos, one of better discos, best-looking girls 
in town dance on clear-plastic floor, while other patrons 
sit in basement bar gazing upward and enjoying the 
view; Mugen, same building, frenetic go-go dancers; 
Judd's, musical groups, intimate, popular with foreign- 
embassy staffers; Manos, di: and restaurant—both fer- 
tile breeding grounds for liaisons; Copacabana, foreign 
talent in floorshow, hostesses on request; Mikado, mam- 
moth night club-bar, more than 1000 hostesses (all 
equipped with remote-control “beepers,” by which front 
desk can summon girl when top patron enters), garish 
decor, Danny's Bar, small boite run by ex-Florida cop. 
ASAKUSA: Asakusa New Toruko, massage parlor, bath, 
sensual entertainment; Kokusal, all-girl musical revues. 
GINZA: Albion, in Nichigeki Theater, truly inscrutable 
bistro under Supervision of midget in white tux, with go- 
go waitresses standing by tables and twitching to big 
beat; also in Theater, Nichigeki Music Hall for good old- 
fashioned strip show; Kabukiza, popular Japanese kabuki 
plays, all-male performers; Queen Bee, veteran of the big 
and brassy clubs, many English-speaking hostesses; Rat 
Mort, smart bar, ladies for hire. 

ROPPONGI: Last 20 Cents, highly popular bar-disco, 
perfect to take or find date, Chinese food at bar, shoes 
off; Mama Ginbasha’s Night & Day, supper club, congenial 
hostesses, reputable martinis and steaks. 

SHIBUYA: Hi Dick, attractive Western girls, pianist. 
SHIMBASHI: New Yorker, girls fratemize. 

SHINJUKU: Bonus, nudie shows nightly, many hostesses, 
few speak English; New Grand Toruko, another restful 
spot for frlendly fingers and fiendish massage. 
TORANOMON: Papagayo, they're naked and they dance; 
Mexican food and hostesses. 


SIGHT-SEEING 


LOCAL SIGHTS: Meiji Jingu Gaien, stately park surrounds 
Shinto shrine deifying Emperor Meiji; Sengakuji Temple, 
burial place of 47 ronin who committed mass seppuku 
(honorable suicide); Kokugikan Hall, sumo wrestling, sea- 
sonal; Beer Gardens, on roofs of several large stores, live 
music, food and schooners; Yomluriland, big amusement 
park, ingenious underwater theater. 

EVENTS: Sanno Matsuri, parade of shrine palanquins, mid- 


June; Shiman-Rokusen-Nichi, pilgrimage to Asakusa Kan- 
non Temple. early June. 

EXCURSIONS: Hakone, lake resort, vista dominated by 
Mount Fuji, with golf, riding, aquatics, hot springs; Atami, 
literally “hot sea," one of Japan's most famous seaside 
Spas; Lake Kawaguchi, most scenic of five beautiful lakes 
at northem foot of Mount Fuji; Nikko, dramatic scenery. 
nearby Lake Chuzenji and cascading Kegon Falls, elabo- 
rate festivals, mid-May, end of July; Shimoda, or Black 
Ship Festival, re-enactment of first U.S. presence in 
Japan, mid-May; Japan Alps, many mountain resorts, best 
skiing from mid-December to late March at Shiga Heights, 
Akakura, Sekiyama, lwappara-Yuzawa area; Karuizawa, 
sylvan summer retreat popular with climbers and golfers. 


SHOPPING 


Visitors get tax cuts on many items; these vary according 
to product, range from 10 to 40 percent off—less on credit- 
card purchases. 

CAMERAS: Everywhere; check hotel arcades, shop around 
ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT: Radios, tape decks and 
recorders, stereos, television, every imaginable home appli- 
ance: ten blocks of discount stores in Akihabara district: 
Yamagiwa, seven-story emporium, has English-speaking 
slaff, sells equipment wired for U. S. voltage. 

SAMURAI SWORDS: Japan Sword, International Arcade, 
Ginza, martial and table cutlery from country's fines! maker: 
ANTIQUES and CURIOS: Moderate prices, numerous 
shops on Yoyogi Street; Oriental Bazaar, expert export 
packing service, best in town for shopper in hurry. 
PEARLS: Mikimoto, Ginza; Okubo, Asahi Shoten and 
K. Uyeda, all in Imperial Hotel. 

DEPARTMENT STORES: Finest brands at Mitsukoshi and 
Takashimaya (latter has New York branch). 


HOTELS 


Deluxe Western digs at International and Miyako; resort 
flavor at Mount Hotel outside central city; Japanese 
inns (ryokans) are Tawaraya and Hliragiya, near downtown; 
Onoya and Shokaro, on river front. 


DINING 


Kawamichiya, broths and poultry casseroles; Minokichi, 
fish fare; Nanzen, great steaks; Morita-Ya, small house. 
fine sukiyaki, Ikkyu-An, traditional Buddhist vegetarian 
food; Kani-Doraku, crabs cooked to order. 


NIGHT LIFE 


New Cobalt, exotic, erotic floorshows, ebullient hostesses; 
Den-En, four competing bars under same roof; Suisha, 
also known as Negligee Salon for the working costume 
of hostesses; 123 Bar, organ player serenades couples. 


SIGHT-SEEING 
LOCAL SIGHTS: Nijo Castle, residence of first Tokugawa 


shogun; Nishi Hongan-ji Temple, one of best remaining 
examples of Buddhist architecture; Sanjusangendo, famous 
for wooden image of Thousand-Armed Kannon Goddess; 
Kinkaku-ji Temple, or Golden Pavilion, doubly impressive 
with pond reflection; Katsura Imperial Villa, epitome of 
Japanese harmony in gardens and buildings. 

EVENTS: Takigi-Noh, outdoor performances of classic 
Noh dramas, early June; Gion Matsuri, floats decorated 
with treasured art works, mid-June; Jidai Matsuri, spec- 
tacular Festival of the Ages, late October. 

EXCURSIONS: Mount Hiei, affords sweeping view of Kyoto 
and Lake Віма, 2973-foot summit reachable by cable car or 
toll road; Lake Biwa, excursion boat from Otsu cruises 
lake and visits pavilions; Hozu River, rapids trip through 
steep gorges from Kameoka to Arashiyama, nearly two 
hours; Nara, horoscope ritual at Todai-ji Temple. 


OSAKA 


Beppu: 3000 hot springs in mountainous region of Kyushu; 
spa once reserved for sole use of Imperial household. 
Mount Aso: Japan's largest active volcano, close to 
Beppu; monkeys roam freely in nearby parks. 


Nagoya: This essentially industrial city provides a good 
base of operations for expeditions to Gifu City, fishing 
with cormorants from May through September; Suzuka Cir- 
cuit, Grand Prix racing, seasonal; Seto, mountain town. 
fine ceramics; hydrofoil trips to Mikimoto Pearl Farm, 
ise-Shima National Park with the Grand Shrines of Ise. 


247 


PLAYBOY 


into such a room and know at a glance 
how he should behave toward every 
other member of the assembly. Exeryone 
in Japan has—and knows—his place. In 
the ritualistic world of the sumo wres 
Пет, for example, boundaries of rank 
and status are clearly drawn, The lowest 
position is that of the fundoshikatsugi, 
"man who carries his superiors under 
There is a form for everything, 
even in public restaurants, but these 
procedures vary according to the type of 
food served and, for the sake of foreign 
company, are sometimes dispensed with. 
food is sustenance to the 
spirit ‘as well as to the body. Food is 

legend, as illustrated by the fable 
beggar who could afford nothing 
but rice. Everyday, he would stand out 
side a fish restaurant, cating his rice 
and taking deep breaths between cach 
mouthful to savor the rich aromas from 
the kitchen. After a week or so, the 
owner came out and demanded five yen 
for the privilege. The beggar produced 
the money and held it out in his hand, 
but before the greedy restaurateur could 
take it, he pocketed the coins. "You 
asked me to pay you,” the beggar told 
him, “for the smell of your fish. 1 
done so—with the sight of my money.” 

Westerners who have assumed that 
Japanese food is all fish and rice are 
delighted not only by the variety and 
subtlety of the cuisine but also by the 
skill with which it is prepared and 
served, Watching a veteran sushi coun- 
terman is to see a crafisman at work as 
he swiftly slices the fresh raw fish, 
kneads the rice into a small, seaweed: 
wrapped cake and presents the morsel as 
though it were the last of its kind. 
Dipped in а tart sauce of soy and 
green horseradish, sushi is a taste that 
brings tears to the eyes of aficionados who 
have been denied it for too long. Among 
the hundreds of other culinary tempt: 
tions are tempura (shrimp, fish and vege- 
tables deep-fricd in batter), yakitori 
(skewered beef and chicken, ch: 
broiled), okaribayaki (barbecued beef 
and game), mizulaki (a type of chicken 
stew) and sukiyaki, Some restaurants 
specialize in only one style, others com- 
bine all of them or add variations and 
inventions of thcir ow 
moner fare runs to noodles mixed with 
meat, fish or vegetables, or oden, a pun- 
gent, inexpensive hot dish of vegetables 
and pastry concoctions. 

Among the dishes unique to Japan is 
chanko-nabe, a highly nutritious stew of 
fish or chicken that forms the sumo 
wrestler’s diet. Perhaps the most app 
priate of all at least in sociological 
terms, is fugu, an ugly species of blow- 
fish whose ovaries and liver must be deli- 
ately excised because they contain the 
fatal poison tetraodontoxin, for which 
there is no known antidote. It is normal- 
Jy served only in restaurants licensed spe- 


gag cally by the government, but a number of 


fugu fanciers expire every year from cat- 
ng blowfish that has been carelessly 
prepared. None of the leading fugu estab- 
lishments in the capital has registered a 
casualty in recent years, but it’s said that 
in rural districts, where the fish is cooked 
by Jess skillful hands, many a diner 
suddenly pitches across the table and 
breathes his last—all of which adds to dic 
mystique of this tender and delicate fish. 
If fugu or other Japanese dishes 


cui- 
is well as some of the best Chinese 
restaurants in the world—and at least 
onc authentic kosher deli. Steak in | 
pan is superb, and Kobe beef—which 
comes from steers fed on beer and wheat. 
ny- 
where. Some it on 
heated. boulders, while the diners sit at 
the counter and nibble Tokyo's excellent 
oysters and roast crab, washed down with 
hot sake or cold beer, 
Food is Tokyo's first pleasure, but 
ple the city's main. preoccu- 
on. After dark, the capital is а forest 
of spangled lights. In cavernous might 
clubs, thousands of hostesses wait at- 
tendance on free-spending Japanese 
businessmen; Turkish baths are packed. 
with customers whose bodies haye been 
med, cleaned, oiled, kneaded and 
trodden into shape by young gitls. Res- 
taurants, bars, discotheques, theaters and 
"t halls are filled to capacity, and 
n hunters prowl through shopping 
arcades, street. markets and department 
stores. Tokyo has what all large cities 
; but it has more of it—not only zoo: 
museums, art galleries, ultramodern ho- 
tels and cabarets but also festivals, fish 
markets, teahouses, sake bars, sex shops, 
secluded inns and John Wayne movies 
nese sound tracks. 
е allgirl revues, such as 
those offered by the Kokusai, Nichigeki 
and Takarazuka troupes, which put on 
ghindiose speciaculars worthy of Busby 
ley in his heyday. Scts explod. 
ngs collapse in Hames, and huge 
Is arch over chorus lines of 300. 
Midgets in geisha drag perform outr 
geous stripteases, orchestras revolve on 
stages, and scenes change with such 
frantic speed that it’s a miracle опе num- 
ber avoids colliding with the next. These 


and massaged by hand—is unrivaled а 
restaurants cook 


shows and the bawdy, delighted reaction 
of the audience are wildly exuberant 
fairs that set to rest any notion of the 


ıs а race of undemonstrative 
m in the kabuki theater, one 
apan's traditional forms of drama, 
theatergoers leap to their feet with cries 
of admiration whenever one of the cast 
strikes a particularly expressive pose. 

Japan's capital is a collection of 
lages, towns and subcities, the more col- 
orful of which are often oyerlooked by 
visitors who know the city only in terms 


panese 


of Akasaki 
most popular tourist districts. But only a 
short distance from these well-trodden 
paths is Shinjuku, where one can shop 
in comfort in huge department stores 
such as Isetan or explore the maze of 
lantern-bedecked side streets lined with 
colfechouses, cellar theaters, jazz clubs, 
baths, restaurants, bars and a clientele 
composed. Lugely of students. Shinjuku 
is about the closest Tokyo comes to the 
East Village or the old Hashbury, but 


га or Roppongi, the 


without the predominant drug culture. 


Drugs are still mainly a foreign novelty 
in Japan and the young people who 
spend their idle hours in the corridors 
of Shinjuku Station, snifling glue and 
paint thinners, rarely get their hands on 
anything more potent—and perhaps less 
harmful, Strict anti-drug laws have the 
support of most Japanese; whea some of 
the Tokyo company of Hair were arrest- 
ed on narcotics charges a year ago, local 
discothèques stopped playing Aquarius 
asa gesture of disapproval. 

Adjacent to Shinjuku is another Japa- 
nese amusement center, Ikebukuro, 
which overflows with scores of restau- 
rants, dubs, sake bars, mah-jongg halls 
and more than a hundred small hotels. 


At the other end of the city is Asakusa, 
where countrylolk and Tokyoites flock 
оп monumental weekend binges to emp- 
ty their pockets in honky-tonks, blue- 
movie houses, hostess bars, Turkish bi 


nearly every door or 
beckoned by pretty girls in kimonos or 
Western dress. To appreciate the 
icr attractions that abound in Tokyo’s 
outlying areas, a stranger should take a 
guide, not because it’s dangerous on the 
strects—the threat of violence is minimal 
everywhere in Japan—but to help with 
language and geographic difficulties. It 
is in these districts, beyond the Ginza 
lights, that visitors discover cleanliness 
isn’t necessarily next to godliness, 
“Ecstasy,” sighs the naked American, 
аз а soft, soapy female hand slips be- 
tween his thighs, “is a Japanese bath,” 
The girl in the shorts and bra giggles. 
“What estasy?” she asl 
“It's like happiness, only bigger.” 
“Ah, bigga. Unnersian. Bigga not same 
small 
"Right." 
“You like oil or powda? Massage? Lie 
on face, I walk your back? 
“Right.” 
“Everythi 
"Right." 
“You want turn ovah? Ooh, you 
now. You estasy, no? I think you 
much bath in Japan. 
Of course he like too much bath in 
Japan: lying there nude on a rubber 
mattress, while a 19-year-old nymph 
with a body like last nights fantasy 
slides a slippery knee between his legs 


and 


DEWARS PROFILES 


(Pronounced Do-ers “White Labet’) 


CHARLES DE ROSE 


HOME: Ft. Lee, New Jersey 

AGE: 31 

PROFESSION: Financial planning consultant: 

to theater personalities, major corporations, 

and key executives. 

HOBBIES: Horticulture, sky-diving, motor- 
cycling, sports-ear rallying. 

LAST BOOK READ: *The Meaning of Meaning" 
LAST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Co-Founder and 
"Treasurer of the Dance Theater of Harlem. 
QUOTE: “The Dance Theater was an opportunity 
to bring Wall Street and the ghetto together. 
They're worlds apart, but money and talent 

can go a long way when there's mutual respect. 
Respect made the whole thing work. I only wish 
there was more of it to go around.” 

PROFILE: A direct, committed, self-made man. 
Uses his financial, social, and theater 
involvements to further the cause of human. 
rights and the arts. 


SCOTCH: Dewar's “White Label” 


щш SCOTCH 


Authentic. There are more than a thousand ways 
to blendwhiskiesin Scotland, butfeware authenticencugh 
for Dewar's “White Label." The quality standards we set 
down in 1846 have never varied. Into each drop goes only 
the finest whiskies from the Highlands, the Lowlands, 


the Hebrides. Дешат” never varies. 


249 


PLAYBOY 


250 the word used by 


works havoc with her finger tips. This 
is his second bath since breakfast. By 
tomorrow morning, he should be severa 
pounds lighter and very dean, indeed. 
Everybody like too much bath in Japan. 

In Tokyo, the sensual ritual of cl 
liness can be enjoyed in hundreds and 
possibly thousands of bathhouses. Some 
are public, a few communal (for me 
only), but private, which 
means that each customer gets his own 
100m and masseuse. These latter are the 
Toruko or Turkish baths, behind whose 
gleaming walls many a newly arrived 
gaijin has received the shock of his life 
in the care of tender young ladies, In 
the Utamaro bath, midway between 
downtown Tokyo and Haneda airport, 
customers are led by the hand along an 
indoor cobbled path into а room resem 
bling а garden. All the usual bathi 
and massaging amenities аге provided 
with the addition of а rubber air mat 
wes, on which the customer. reclines 
while being rinsed and lathered. Соп. 
noisscurs of the bath regard this barely 
endurable pleasure as one of the morc 
enlightened ablutionary i ions, 

In the ordinary Toruko, the client asks 
for a specific gil if hes been there 
before, or he will be assigned one upon 
arrival. She will wear a brief robe over a 
pair of tiny shorts and a halter top. The 
торе is discarded in the private тоот and 
the тем may follow, depending on hous 
policy, which varies according to the pre 
vailing legal mood. Once inside the bath- 
зоот. the girl removes the customer's 
dothes and leads him to a steam box. in 
which he sits for as long as he wishes, 
while she buses herself preparing. the 
bath. In some Torukos, the customer 
nd rinsed on the massage 
in others, he sits on a small wood- 
cn stool, where he can have a shampoo 
and a shave if he wants. After the last 
rinse, he climbs into the scalding cul- 
dron of the tub and, when he'shad enough 
of that, he Hes down on the massage 
table, where he may be sprayed. with talc 
or rubbed with fragrant oil from toes to 
temples, front and back, over every inch 
of body. For most men, the oil 
massage is the point of no return, 
crudatingly erotic experience when per- 
formed by а skillful masseuse. 

Somewhere along the way, the custom- 
er should have established his desires. 1f 
you wish the girl to take you in hand, as 
it were, you ask for a "Special" (pro- 
nounced Spesharu), which me that 
she does for you what you could do for 
yourself. This is about as [ar as most 
Tokyo masseuses will go. А "Double" 
(pronounced Daburu) costs approxi 
mately $10, or about twice as much as a 
Special, and means that the customer 
may also indulge in some light pening. 
The third and r tegory is “Hon- 
ban” (pronounced Hol-lun), which is 


most are 


iov 


ex- 


ans 


est 


panese movie direc- 


and 
Hon- 


tors when they shout "Action 
tion is what you get if you say 


ban" at the right moment 10 the right 
il. Jt costs $15 and up, but most 


okyo Тогићо girls refuse to indulge 
—on the premises, A Toruko masseuse 
who isn't married or isn’t too worried 
about family ties may consent to meet a 
customer somewhere else. But in most 
cases, this contact with Japanese girls 
(except for hostesses and other profes 
sionals—or those few who regard for- 
eigners as exotic sex instructors) is about 
all the male tourist сап expect. 

The chances of a visitor meeting а 
метей young lady during the typical 
short visit to Tokyo а bly ше 
same as anywhere, but anyone who 
achieves much more than a few brief, 
platonic meetings in public is do 
extraordinarily well for himself. Jap: 
nese girls stay home until marriage, even 
in Tokyo, and at home the father gener- 
ally makes the rules and the daughter 
bides by them. More often than not, 
this means a midnight curfew. The no- 
tion of bringing home a gaijin, except 
al panty, is not 


to attend the most for 
regarded with favoi 

This raises a major obstacle for the 
visitor who's lucky enough to make the 
quaintance of a girl and has nowhere 
to go to pursue the friendship. Some of 
Tokyo's deluxe Western hotels are fussy 
about guesis of opposite sexes and dif- 
ferent names sharing the same room 
and, in a few of them, night desks are 
ined on every floor to prevent just 
t. Anyone considering the use of his 
mporary romantic 
should look over the hotel before check- 
ing in. ro make sure it has no night 
desks and that a restaurant, bar or other 


гоо! тооч. 


aon 


publ located on the roof, so 
that tors may be freely used 
without of intervention by the 


Japan may not have invented the eu- 
pliemism that is now known as the host- 
css. but it did invent one of the е 
examples. the geisha. The word 
ccomplished person.” and the 
geisha is not a prostitute, even thou 
she may establish a liaison with a 
wealthy patron. Primarily, she is а first- 
class entertainer, skilled in Japanese cere- 
monial arts, а young woman who serv 
a long apprenticeship before start 
her career, The сом of a topnotch g 
pany is steep (anywhere from 
around 510 and up, per person) and 
even if it weren't, its purpose and 
amusements—which consist mainly of 
ug. dancing and a number of child- 
like pany games—would appear tir 
some and meaningless to the visitor. 
Even young Japanese men these days 
find them excessively boring айай», but 
not the middle-aged businessmen to 
whom the geisha is still a figure of 


true 


sha 


respect and affection. One usually needs 
a formal introduction through а Japa 


nese patron to attend а party in 
first-class teahouse, and many geishas are 


reluctant to entertain Westerners at all 
because of possible misunderstandings 
about the gils’ function 

Far more popular in presentday Ja- 
pan are the bar and night«lub hostesses, 
who are paid by the management to 
drink, talk and Jor dance with customers. 
Though many hostesses will accompany 
a client home at the drop of a 10.000- 
yen note (about 528), and others will 
join him after closing time, some are 
forbidden to associate with customers off 
the premises. In the bigger Tokyo night 
clubs, such as the Mikado, hostesses wear 

I radi i 
xe tu 


rives and 
vanis her to sit at his table. When this 
pens, the hostess abandons her cur- 
rent prospect, who has a choice of out- 
bidding the new anival, waiting for 
other girl c 3 the hell out and 
finding a place where the staff hasn't 
been wired for sound. 

Excessive rates are charged for both 
drinks and the small trays of nauscat- 
ing snacks and nuts that pass as hors 
d'oeuvres in Tokyo dubs. The customer 
always refuse the nuts when they're 
placed on the table, but. most. strangers 
don't like to for fear of seeming cheap. 
Do й. Japanese customers seem to live 
оп almost unlimited bank rolls. thanks to 
the liberal expense 
pensue for low sala 
ners, the entes 't worth 
the price. A hundred dollars for three 
drinks, а saucer of peanuts and hall an 
hour's garbled conversation with a girl 
whose d periodically emits a 
shrill chirruping is not the ideal way to 
spend a night on ihe town. Younger 
tors enjoy themselves more (and 
шесі a greater variety of nonprofession- 
al females) in the discotheques around 
Akasaka and Roppongi, but it’s wise to 
he on the alert for one of Tokyo's latest 
exual hazards—Caucasian males who 
had partial sex-change operations 
ad who often bear an amazing vesem- 
blance to the real thing. In some cases, 
surgery bas worked such miracles that а 
number of these changelings work as 
strippers in Japanese night clubs. M: 
ight rambler has escorted 
home only to discover at the moment 
of truth. that the top half didn't match 
the bouom 

Tokyo is not only Japan's entertain- 
ment capital but also the home ol its 
political, cultural and social establish 
ments. It feeds the arteries through 
Which flow the new ideas. fads and fash- 
ions that change life styles in the rest of 
counuy. In many respects, 


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PLAYBOY 


252 


г Japanese cities are merely smaller 
versions of the capital, at least physical- 
› ей оп the outer 
edges, chaotic and crowded in the cen- 
ter. Only one has escaped serious dam- 
age in modern times, and this is Kyoto, 
or Nihon no Furusato. the spiritual 
heart of Japan, which for that reason 
was spared Allied bombing in the W 
by Executive order from Washington. 
Kyoto is not without its share of factories 
and urban squalor, but in the older p. 
of town, where the streets retain the 
dassical Chinese grid pattern on which 
the city was originally laid out, the be- 
mused foreigner who has searched in vain 
for the “real” Japan is at last rewarded. 
Here he can sıroll through ow 
streets of wooden houses. admiring the 
symmetry of stone and tile in the geisha 
quarter of Gion or finding own 
meaning in the Zen garden of Ryoanji 
Temple. During the day, he can visit 
some of the city's thousands of shrines 
d temples, palaces and. muscums, m: 
vel at the tranquil moss garden of Koko- 
dera, the five-storied pagoda of Toji or 
the massive fortifications of Nijo Castle. 
Kyoto is the embodiment of the na- 
tion’s historic and religious heritage, the 
repository of about a fourth of Japan’ 


5 
cultural treasures, and the home of schol- 
ars and craftsmen whose work is of such 
importance to the state that these gen- 
temen are officially designated Cultural 
Intangible Properties. Some of their cre- 
tions are on display in small stores in 
market arcades or in workshop show- 
rooms across the River Kamo in the 
Nishijin weaving district, Here a silk obi 
or waist sash that may be worn no m 
than two or three times a year can cost 
upwards of $15,000. Leading off Shinkyo- 
goku Sucet are hundreds of inviting 
lanes and narrow alleys with tiny restau- 
nts, coffeeshops, baths, snack counter 
and theaters showing the latest flesh epic 
from Europe, The by the 
screech of steam whistles from the carts 
of chestnut and corn vendors, by ham- 
mers working re on 
nd by the clatter of a dozen w 
factories. From almost every open win- 
dow drifts the appetizing bouquet of 
food being cooked for the next meal. 
Souvenir hunters can have their names 
embroidered in Japanese characters on 
huge banners or engraved on small seals; 
in the bazaars west of Shinkyogoku, they 
can shop in hundreds of small stores for 
Kyoto cloth, kimonos or the newer 
products of Japanese technology. 

Kyoto is a city of festivals, some mod- 
est and obscure, others riotous and flam- 
Loyant. The biggest of the year is Gion 
suri, held in the middle of June and. 
lasting over a week. Huge floats are 
towed through il „ orchesuas of 
gongs, flutes and drums kick up an 
unearthly discord and thousands of Jap- 
ancse pour into the city from all over 


sırecı 


the country to celebrate in the bars and 
night clubs of local centers. Many older 
homes and an shops are 
opened to the public, the only time of 
the year when can wander 
through them at their leisure. 

Because of Kyotos antiquity and 
uniquely Japanese charm, it makes litle 
se to stay ina Western-style hotel while 
in the city. Instead, the visitor should re- 
serve a room in a ryokan, or Japanese 
inn, such as the Tawaraya, which has been 
operated by the same family for more 
than 200 years. Once inside, it's difficult 
to remember that such distractions as 
trafic and crowded streets ever existed. 
Everything on the outside seems dum- 
sy and inhuman in contrast to the in- 
terior of this fragile cocoon, with its 
sliding walls of paper and floors of tata- 
mi, One may occasionally hear the whis- 
pered laughter of а couple returning to 
their room frem the bath or the shuffle 
of slippered feet along a passageway, but 
one rarely catches a glimpse of other 
guests. There are no public rooms, no 
s or cocktail lounges. Meals are 
brought to one's room by maids, one to 
do the cooking, the other to help serve 
and dear away. Removing their slippers 
at the edge of the talami (no Lootwe: 
is needed on this comfortable two-inch- 
thick matting), they kneel by the table 
throughout the meal, auending to the 
guest's needs almost before he is aware 
of them. Tea is brought to the room 
whenever a resident re-enters the inn, 
his arrival having been mysteriously 
naled by unseen sentries who notily the 
kitchen. A hot tub of water awaits him. 


in the bathroom every night before he 
gees о bed and whe 
morning; socks and shorts left 


around the room are washed during his 
absence. Even by comparison with the 
most luxurious hotels in the West, the 
service in the best ryokans is far supe- 
or in every detail. Some maids even 
present their guests with а modest. gift 
when they leave, not because the 
or expect something in return—tipping 
is nor a custom in Japan—but because 
in the few days the guest has st 
her care, the maid has somehow come to 
regard this former str 
of some large 
Jt takes уса 


s of training 
great fortitude to become а rok 
and, since it is а lowly paid occuy 
in comparison with industrial jobs, very 
few modern girls are willing to make it 
a ancer. Most of the maids in Japanese 
inns are middle-aged or nearly so. 
would be a mistake to assume they are 


should take his companion with 1 
ely he will find one i 
Fortunately, Kyoto provides numerous 
opportunities for the footloose male, 
especially in the hostess bars and night 


it is unl 


clubs of Pontocho, the most colorful dis- 
trict in the city at night, or in the nearby 
area between Sanjo and Shijo Streets. 

Compared to Tokyo, however, Kvoto's 
night life is a pallid attraction, and once 
a visitor has exhausted the local circuit, 
he should move on to Japan's second 
city, Osaka, Here superb restaurants, 
modern hotels and a vast underground 
shopping complex (as well as one of 
Japan's best-equipped shopping centers at 
Airport) all compete for the tour- 
is’s attention. Physically, however, the 
city can be even more appalling than 
Tokyo. Swamped in a greasy smog on 
some days buried in traffic and athrob 
with thc clangor of new construction, 
Osaka is still recovering from the am- 
bitious building projects undertaken be- 
fore Expo was held just outside the city 
last year. It is a metropolis renowned 
for the astounding productivity of its 
factories and an inborn restlessness and 
opportunism that has made Osaka indus- 
wialists the envy of their Tokyo riv 
"The city accounts for a quarter of ] 
industrial production and nearly half the 
nation’s exports, A number of factories 
сап be visited by the public, a typical 
stroke of shrewdness on the part of 
nagements that have turned loal 
eyesores into tourist attractions. 

Apart from tcchnological sight-sccing, 
the most notable Osaka attractions are 
Castle, the Bu puppet thea- 
ter, the July festival of Tenjin Matsuri 
(the most colorful river procession in 
pan) and th able sight-secing 
lower, from which spectators сап peer 
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PLAYBOY 


254 


THE ANIMAL FAIR „салон page 116) 


everything was pitch black, and when he 
glanced behind him, the lights of the 
carnival were gone 

For an instant, the sky turned silver 
and he could see the rain pour down; 


then the thunder came again, giving 
him the messige, This wasn't just a 
summer shower, it was a real storm. 


Another minute and he was going to be 
ng wet. By the time he gor up to 
the state highway, he could drown, and 
even if he made it there, chances for a 
lift looked bad. Nobody traveled in thi 
weather. Maybe he could find some kind 
of sheker, he thought. 

Dave zipped up his jacket, pulled the 
collar around his neck. It didn't help 
and neither did walking up the road. 
but he might as well get going. The 
wind was at his back and that helped a 
le, but moving against the rain was 
like walking through а wall of water. 

Another flicker of g. another 
rumble of thunder. And then the flicker- 
ing and the rumbling merged and held 
suddenly, the light grew brighte 
and a sound rose over the hiss of wind 
and rain, 

Dave glanced back over his shoulder 
and saw the source—the headlights and 
gine of a truck coming along the road 
from behind him. As it moved closer, 
Dave realized it wasn't a truck: 
camper, one of those two-decker jobs 
with a driver's cab up front 

Right now, he didn't give 


was a 


damn 


what it was, as long as it stopped and 
picked him up. Before the camper came 
alongside him, Dave stepped out, wa 
ing his arms. 

"The camper slowed, halted. The sh: 
ow in the Gib leaned over from behi 
the wheel and a hand pushed the win- 
dow vent open on the passenger side. 
"Want a lift, buddy? Get in." 

The door swung open and Dave 
climbed up into the cab. He slid onto 
the seat and pulled the door shut be- 
hind him. The camper started to move 
again. 

Shut the window," the driver said. 
“Rain's blowing in.” 

ve closed it, then w 
r inside the cab was heavy with 
odors—not just perspiration but some- 
thing else. Dave recognized the smell 
even before the driver produced the 
boule from his jacket pocket. 

“Want a slug? Fresh corn likker. 
Tastes like hell, but it's better "n noth 
ing" 

"No. thanks.” 

"Suit yourself.” The bottle tilted and 
gurgled, Lightning flared across the road- 
way ahead, glinting against the glass of 
the windshield, the glass of the up- 


ished he hadn't. 


turned bottle. In its momentary glare, 
Dave caught a glimpse of the driver's 
face and the flash of lightning brought a 
driver 


flash of recogn The 
Captain Ryder. 


Thunder growled 


tion 


was 


““How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” 


and the heavy camper turned onto the 
slick, rainswept surface of the state 
highway. 

"What's the matter, you deaf or some- 
thing? I asked you where you're head- 
ing.” 

Dave came to with a start. "Oklahoma 
City,” he said. 

"You hit the jackpot. That's where 
I'm going.” 

Some jackpot. Dave had been think 
ing about the old guy. remembering the 
gorilla in the pit. He hated this bas 
tard’s guts and the idea of riding with 
him all the way to Oklahoma City made 
his stomach churn again. On the other 


hand, walking along in a storm in the 


middle of the prae was по great 
stomach soother, so what the hell? 

The camper lurched and Ryder 
fought the wheel. “Boy—sure is a cut- 
ter! Get these things often around 
here?” 

“I wouldn't know,” Dave said. “This 
is my first time through. I'm meeting a 

ad in Oklahoni - We figure on 
g out to Hollywood together." 

“Hollywood?” The hoarse voice deep- 
ened. “That goddamn place!” 

“Bur don't you come from there” 

Ryder glanced up quickly and Ii 
ning flickered across his sudden frown. 
Secing him this close, Dave realized he 
wasn't so old; something besides time 
had shaped that scowl, erched the bitter 
lines around cyes and mouth. 
Ryder said. 
arnival tonight. I saw 


your show. 

Ryder grunted and his eyes wacked 
the road ahead through the twin pendu- 
lums of the windshield wipers. "Pretty 
lousy, huh?” 

Dave began to nod, then caught 
self. No sense starting anything. “That 
gorilla of yours looked like it might һе 
sick.” 

“Bobo? He's all right. Just the weath- 
er. We open up North, he'll be fin 
Ryder nodded in the direction of the 
amper bulking behind h ent 
ard a peep out of him since wc 
тей” 

"He's traveling with you? 

“Whaddya think, I ship him airmail?” 
A hand rose from the wheel, gesturing. 
"This camper's built special. | got the 
upstairs, h n below. 1 keep the 
back open so's he gets some air, but no 
problem—I got it all barred. 
look through that window behind you." 

Dave turned and peered through the 
e-meshed window at the rear of the 
b. He could see the lighted interior of 
the campers upper level neatly and 
normally outfitted for occupancy. Sl 
ing his gaze, he stared into the darkness 
below. Lashed securely to the side walls 
were the tent, the platform boards, the 
ners and the rigging: the floor space 
between them covered with straw, 


s do! 


ped into a sort of nest. Crouched 
st the barred opening at the far 
end was the black bulk of the gorilla, 
back turned as it faced the road to the 
rear, intent on the roaring rain. The 
camper went into а skid for a moment 
and the beast twitched, jerking its head 
around so that Dave caught а glimpse of 
its glazed eyes It seemed to whimper 
softly, but because of the thunder, Dave 
couldn't be sure. 

“Snug as а bug," Ryder said. "And so 
are we.” He had the boule out again, 
deftly uncorking it with one hand. “Sure 
you don't want а bell? 

“TIL pass," Dave said. 

The boule raised, then paused. “Hey, 
wait a minute.” Ryder was scowling at 
ou're not on something 


him again 
else, аге you, budd: 
Dave shook his head. “Not 


"Good thing you're not" The boule 
tilted, lowered again as Ryder corked it. 
TE hae that Drugs and 
hippies. Hollywood's full of both. You 
take my advice, you keep away from 
there. No place for a kid, not anymor 
He belched Joudly, started to put the 
boule back into his jacket pocket, then 
uncorked it again. 

Dave saw that the captain was on his 
way to getting loaded. Best thing to do 
would be to keep him talking, take his 
mind off the boule before he knocked 
the camper off the road. 

“No kidding, were you really a Holly- 
wood stunt man?” Dave said. 

"Sure, one of the best. But that was 
hack in the old days, before the place 
went to hell. Worked for all the majors 
—uick riding. fancy falls, doubling fight 
scenes, the works. You ask anybody who 
knows. they'll tell you old Cap Ryder 
was right up there with Yakima Canut, 
maybe суеп better.” The voice rasped 
on, harsh and proud. "Seven-fifty а day, 
that’s what I drew. Seven hundred and 
fifty, every day 1 worked. And 1 worked 
a lot." 

“I didn't know they paid that kind of 
dough." Dave sa 
fou got to remember one thing. Т 
wasn’t just taking falls in the long shots. 
When they hired Cap Ryder, they knew 
they were getting some fancy talent. Not 
many stunt men can handle animals. 
You ever see any of those old jungle 
pictures on tclevision—Tarzan_ movies, 
stuff like that? Well, in over halt of ‘em, 
Im the guy handling the cats Liou 
leopards. tigers, you name it. 

“Sounds exciting.” 

“Sure, if you like hospitals. In one 
shot, I wrestled a black panther, like to 
rip my arm clean off. Seven-fifty sounds 
like а lot of loot, but you should have 
seen what I uid out in medical bills. 
Not to mention what I paid for cos- 
tumes and extras. Like the lionskins and 
the apesuit 


“1 don't get it.” Dave frowned. “Cos. 
tumes?” 

“Sometimes they nced an action shot 
dose up and the star's face has to be in 
it. Well, of course they can't use a real 
animal, so if it was a fight scene with a 
lion or whatever, that’s where I came 
in handy—I doubled for the animal, 
Would you believe it, three grand I laid 
out for a lousy monkey suit alone! But 
it paid off. You should have se 
pad I had overlooking Laurel Canyon. 
Four bedrooms. three-car garage, tennis 
court, swimming pool, sauna, everything 
you can think oL. Melissa loved it 

"Melissa? 

Ryder shook his head, “Wham I 
talking about? You don't want to hear 
any of that crud about the good old 
days. All water over the dam.” 

The mention of water evidently re- 
minded him of thirst, because he 
reached for the bottle again. And this 
time, when he tilted it, it gurgled its 
last, Ryder cranked the window down 
and flung the bottle out into the rain. 


ished. 


All gone.” he muttered. 
No more bottle. No more house. No 
more Melissa.” 

“Who was she?” Dave said. 

"You really want to know?" Ryder 
jerked his thumb toward the windshield. 
Dave followed the gesture, puzzled, un- 
til he raised his glance to the roof of 
the cab. There, fastened directly above 
the rearview mirror, was a small picture 
frame. Staring out of it was the face of a 
girl; blonde hair, nice features and the 
kind of smile you see in the pages of 
high school annuals. 

^My niece,” Ryder told him. "Sixteen. 
Bur 1 took her when she was only five. 
right after my sister died. Took her and 
raised her for eleven years. Raised her 
right. too. Let me tell you, that girl 
never lacked for anything. Whatever she 
wanted, whatever she needed, she got. 
The trips we took together—the good 
times we had—hell | guess it sounds 
silly, but you'd be surprised what a kick 
you cin get out of secing a kid have 
fun. And smart? President of the junior 
class at Brixley—t me of the 
private school I put her in, hest in town, 
half the stars sent their own daughters 
there. And that’s what she was 10 mi 
just like my own fleshand-blood daugh- 
ter. So go figure it. How it happened I'll 
never know,” Ryder blinked at the road 
ahead, forcing his eyes into focus. 

How what happened?" Daye asked. 
The hippies. The goddamn sonsa 
bitching hippies.” 

Dave noticed Ryder's eves were sud- 
denly alert amid the network of ugly 
wrinkles. 

“Don't ask me where she met the 
bastards,” Ryder continued. “I thought 1 
was guarding her from all that. bui 
those lousy freaks are all over the place. 
She must've run into them through one 


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255 


PLAYBOY 


256 


of her friends at school—Chris knows, 
you sec plenty of weirdos even in Bel 
Air. But you got to remember, she was 
just sixteen and how could she guess 
what she was getting into? I suppose at 
thar age, an older guy with a beard and 
a Fender guitar and a souped-up cycle 
looks pretty ex: 
“Anyhow, they got to her one night 
when I was away on location. Maybe she 
invited them over to the house, maybe 
they just showed up and she asked them 
in. Four of ‘em, all stoned out of their 
skulls. Dude, that was the oldest one's 
пате. He was like the leader and it was 
his idea from the start. Everybody knew 
that she never smoked grass or fooled 
around with drugs, so I guess he got the 
idea of pulli fast one. Must. have 
asked her to serve something to drink, 
nd then he probably slipped the stuff 
into her glass. Enough to finish off 
the coroner said.” 

killed her? 

"Not right away. I wish to Christ it 
had.” Ryder turned, his face working. 
and Dave had to strain to hear his voice 
through the rush of rain. 

"According to the coroner, 
have lived for at least an hour. Long 
enough for them to take turns—Dude 
and the three others, Long enough alter 
that for them to get the idea. 

“They were in my den and I had the 
place all fixed up like a kind of trophy 
imal skins all over the wall, na- 

voodoo mas sult Га 
picked up on my trips And here were 
these four freaks, spaced out, and the 
kid, blowing her mind. One of the b; 
tards took down a drum and started 
beating on it. Another got hold of a 
mask and started hopping around like a 
witch doctor. And Dude—it was Dude, 
all right, I know it for sure—he and the 
other creep pulled the lionskin olf the 
wall and draped it over Melissa. Because 
this was a wip and they were playing 
Africa. Great White Hunter. Me 
zan, you 

“By this time, Melissa couldn't even 
stand up anymore. Dude gor her down 
on her hands and knees and she ju 
wobbled there. And then—that dirty 
roten son of a bitch—he pulled down 
the drapery cords and tied the lionskin 
over her head and shoulders. And he 
down from the wall, one of 
and he was going to 


she must 


the big stud, standing over Melis. 
sa with that spear. 

“He didn't stand long. One look at 
me and the fun was over. I think he 
threw the spear before he ran, but 1 
can't remember. I can't remember any. 
thing about the next couple of minutes. 
‘They said I broke one frcak's collarbone 
d the creep in the mask had a concus- 
sion from where his head hit the wall. 


The third one was almost dead by the 
time the squad arrived and pried my 
fingers loose from his neck. As it w 
they were too late to save him. 

‘And they were too late for Melissa. 
She just lay there under that dirty lion- 
skin—thav’s the part I do remember, the 
part I wish I could forget 

You killed a kid?" Dave said. 

Ryder shook his head. "I killed an 
imal. That's what J told them at the 
иа]. When an ani ious, you 
got a right. The judge said one to five, 
but 1 was out in а little over two years. 
He glanced at Dave. “Ever been 
side?” 


. How rough?" 
You can say that again. Rough as a 
cob.” Ryder's stomach rumbled. “I went 
in pretty feisty, so they put me down in 
solitary for a while and that didn't help. 
You sit there in the dark and you start 
thinking. Here am I, used to traveling 
all over the world, penned up in a little 
cage like an animal. And onc of those 
animals who killed Melissa is ru 
free. One was dead, of course, 
two others I tangled with had maybe 
learned their lesson. But the big one, 
the one who started it all, he was loos 
Cops never did catch up with him and 
they weren't about to waste any more 
me nying, now that the trial was over. 
I thought a lot about Dude, That 
as the big one's name, or did I tell 
you?” Ryders head swayed with the 
movement of the саһ and, in the dim 
light, he seemed well on his way to 
being smashed. But his driving was still 
steady and Dave could keep him awake 
if he could keep him talkin 
"So, what happened?” asked. 
"Mostly, I thought about what I was 
going to do to Dude once 1 got out 
Finding him would be tricky, but I 
knew I could do it—hell, I spent years 
in Africa, tracking animals, And I in- 
tended to hunt this one down.” 
hen it's true about you bein 
explorer?” Dave asked. 
1 trapper.” Ryder 
ya, Uganda, Nigeria—this was before 
Hollywood—and I saw it all Things 
these young punks today never dreamed 
of. Why, they were dancing and drum- 
п ad drugging over fees m 
the first hippie crawled out from under 
his rock, and Jet me tell you, they know 
how to do this stuff for veal. 
„ when this Dude tied the lion- 
he was just freaked out, 
playing games. He should have seen 
what some of those witch doctors can 


ave 


said, "Ken- 


rst, they steal themselves a girl, 
sometimes a young boy, but let's say a 
girl because of Melissa. And they shut 
cave à low 
she can't stand up, has to go 
on all fours. They put her on drugs 
right away, heavy doses, enough to keep 


her out for a long time, And when she 
wakes up, her hands and feet have been 
ated on, so they can be fitted with 
Lion claws. And they've sewed 
skin. Not just put it ov 
her—its sewed on completely and it 
1 be removed. 

‘ou just think about what it’s like. 
She's inside this lionskin, shut away in a 
cave, doped up. doesn’t know where she 
is or what's going on. And they keep her 
that мау. Feed her nothing but raw 
meat. She's all alone in the dark, smell- 
g that damn lion smell. nobody 
g to her and nobody for her to t 
Then prey soon they come in 


break some bones in her throat, hi 
nd all she can do is whine and 
growl Whine and growl and move 


around on all fours. 

You know what happens, boy? You 
know what happens to someone like 
that? They go crazy. And after a while, 
they get to believing they really are 
lion. Тһе next мер is for the witch 
doctor to take them out and train the 
to kill, bur that’s another story.” 

Dave glanced up quickly. “You're put- 
ting me on." 

“Irs all there in the government re- 


ports. Maybe the jets go into Nairobi 
airport now, but back in the bush, 
things haven't changed. Like I say, some 


of these people know more about drugs 
ever will. Especially a 


stupid e Dude” 

“Wh ppened after you got ош? 
Dave said, “Did you ever catch up with 
him?” 


Ryder shook his head. 

“Buc I thought you said you had it all 
planned.” 

“Fella gets a lot of weird ideas in 
solitary. In a way, it’s pretty much like 
being shut up in one of those ca 
Come to think of it, that’s what first 
reminded me” 

Of whi 


ой Ryder gestured hasti! 
orget it. Thats what Z did. When I 
got out, I figured that was the best way. 
Forgive and forget 
You didn't even try to find Dud 
Ryder frowned. “I told you. І had 
other things to think about. Like being 
washed up in the ess, losing the 
house, the furniture, everything. Also, 1 
had a drinking problem. But you don't 
want to hear about t 
ended up with the camy 
nothing more to tell." 
ightning streaked across the sky and 
thunder rolled in its wake. Dave turned 
his head, glancing back through the 
wiremeshed window. The gorilla 
still hunched at the far end, peering 
through the bars into the night beyond. 
Dave stared at him for a long moment, 
not really wanting to stop, because then 
he knew he'd have to ask the question. 


bu: 


and there's 


was 


"Don't you just love spring, with all its budding and blossoming?” 


257 


PLAYBOY 


258 


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delicious drinks than any other.) 


Gordon's Dry Martini 

4 or more parts 
Gordon's Dry Gin. 

1 part Dry Vermouth. 
Stir well in pitcher 

half filled with ice. 
Strain into cocktail glass 
ог serve on rocks. 
Optional: add olive 

or twist of lemon peel. 


G ILD 


Gordon's & Tonic 
1⁄2 02. 

Gorcon's Dry Gin. 
Pour into highball 
glass with ice cubes. 
end fill 

with tonic water. 
Add slice of lemon 
or lime, 


PRODUCT OF U.S.A. 100% NEUTRAL SPIRITS DISTILLED FROM GRAIN. 30 PROOF. GORDON'S DRY GIN CD., LTO., LINDEN, N. 1-