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PLAYBILL хе» rane 
Manson really could 
not have happened in any other city. It 
wasn't the crime so much as the justa 
position of extremes. Actress. Angela 
Lansbury reportedly sent her daughter 
off with the grubby nomad—giving her 
her blessings and а “To whom it may 
concern" to that effect. The sleazy and 
the glamorous have cohabited in that city 
time now. Just bencath all the 
к! ng romance that Hollywood has 
sold about itself, there is the slightly t 
4 reality you find in the detective 
ion of Raymond Chandler and Ross 
‘donald, or in the satire of Nathanael 
West. We couldn't think of a writer bet- 
ter equipped to understand Los Angeles 
than John Clellon Holmes, who has re- 
ported on the splendid old ci 
Europe for the past two years and 
seemed due for a change. In thi 
an extreme d 
geles doesn’t arrive at perfect understand- 
but it is California Holmes is talking 
bout, so we forgive him. 
I anybody ever looked like the per- 
fect California Kid. it has to be Craig 
Breedlove. He acts the part, too—build 
ing rocket-powered сиз and driving 
t speeds that flirt with the sound 

Breedlove once held the land 
^d record and is currently tying 10 
car that he thinks will win it 
back with some to spare, Part of the 
п is to build the world’s fastest drag- 


to raise money for thc supersonic с 
which is still in the design stage. In ош 
offices one morning. Breedlove showed 
the editors a model of the d 


10 drive them, we cowded around 
listened to his description of the veh 
which is powered by а lunardescent 
engine. Finally, one editor spoke up: 
just how fast will that thing 
«love paused, looked 
е calmly, “Оһ, well 
1s. 

In “For My Next Act, I'm Going to 
Seb Myself on Fire,” writer Will 
Neely describes the art ol Breedlove's 
саг construction and a truly spec- 

ир. 

nother kind of race out in 
Nevada. Much slower. In fact, it may be 
the world’s slowest race—with burros. 
Reg Potterton went out to take à look at 


GORDIMER 


CLARKE 


DENPSEY 


POTTERTON 


F 


"а. 


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=| 


© 


SMITH 


The Great Race and found the Old West 
alive and well—if slightly self-conscious. 
John Cheever leads this month's fiction 
roser with The Jewels of the Cabots, 
which concerns an obscure and eccentric 
branch of the famous New England 
family rhur C. Clarkes When the 
Twerms Came is perhaps the shortest 
amd wittiest account ever written of in- 
vasion from outer space. Rounding out 
the fiction are Riviera Idyl, by William 
Fifield, and the conclusion of Michael 
Criclion's The Terminal Man. 

Michael Arlen wrote 
for The New Yorker for three years, 
then collected his artides in Living 
Room War. In You'll Laugh! You'll 
Cry! You'll Watch Them Die! I's 
Today's News Spectacular!, he considers 
network news programs—how they're 
ide and what they do. You'd expect 
Arlen to have some heavy thoughts about 
television. He does: “The dilliculty in 
being a television critic is that a critic is 
supposed to look at something and. then 
write about it: and if you look at televi- 
sion lor any length of time, in addition 
to having your brain turned to stone or 
worse, you end up writing about Marcus 
Welby, pro football and D. Brinkley. 
The best thing is to try to write about 
the TV screen and Ше people who 
watch it, all once, which how it 
happens and is, in fact, how we live.” 

In a World They Never Made, six 
poems by black South Africans, is intro- 
duced by the well-known South African 
ovelist Nadine (1 Guest of Honor) 
Gordimer. "The (wo. poems by Oswald 
Mbuyiseni Mtshali will be included in 
Sounds of a Cowhide Drum, to be pub 
lished by The Third Press—Joseph 
Окраки Publishing Company 

Alo in this issue: David Dempsey 
theorizes in Man's Hidden Environment 
(illustrated by Mike Medow) that much 
of our behavior is influenced by sur 
roundings we discount as neutral or in 
nificant, And Sol Weinstein provides 
the real low-down on Nixon's China trip 
іп Chairman Mao, f Presume, Plus: 
Bestial Sex, a cartoon. feature, by Lee 
Lorenz; The Greening of the Cocktail 
Hour, by Emanuel” Greenberg: and 
photographer J. Frederick Smith's Mon- 
day's Child. Finally, lor those still con 
fused about Zen, Alan Watts—in au 
ісіс illustrated by Ku н: - 
clears it all up. It is, you see, just 
The Sound of Rain. Any questions? 


bout television 


yea 


HAGIO GREENBERG 


vol. 19, no. 5—may, 1972 


PLAYBOY 


CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


е 


PUA YB eres 3 
DEAR PLAYBOY 28 — UU 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS... eo The SEM 
ACTS AND ENTERTAINMENTS. - ж 
АҚТЫ ee T Бы. 24 
BOOKS... —À аена ЕТЕ 
DINING-DRINKING.... ss ки Soe 40 
" д MOVIES... " қ 42 
Hidden Environment RECORDING Е 
THEATER... UST 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR _ = س‎ (АЁ 
THE PLAYBOY FORUM... m 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: HOWARD COSELL—condid conversation 75 
THE JEWELS OF THE CABOTS—fielion — — svn JOHN CHEEVER 96 
YOU'LL LAUGH! YOU'LL CRY! YOU'LL WATCH THEM DIE! 
IT'S TODAY'S NEWS ЅРЕСТАСИЦАВ!—отіе MICHAEL ARLEN 100 
VALERIE—pictorial я > 103 
MAN'S HIDDEN ENVIRONMENT —riicle..... - DAVID DEMPSEY 108 
THE GREAT RACE—atticle € REG POTTERTON 111 
SHOOT & SHOW!—modern living - 114 
CHAIRMAN МАО, | PRESUME—humor .... > SOL WEINSTEIN 119 
WHEN THE TWERMS CAME—fantosy == ARTHUR C. CLARKE 120 
IN SEARCH OF LOS ANGELES «riicle.. JOHN CIELON HOLMES 123 
RIVIERA IDYL—fiction Ls WILLIAM НННО 124 
FREEDOM NOW!—playboy's playmate of the month TES] 
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor.... issu. ХЕ . 134 


“FOR MY NEXT АСТ, ГМ GOING TO 
SET MYSELF ON FIRE": CRAIG BREEDLOVE— personality .. WILLIAM МЕНҮ 136 


HOT ROCKS— modern living stone 5 2 лэв 
THE SOUND OF RAIN—orlicle Я ALAN WATTS 142 
ON COURSE—antire pam ROBERT 1. GREEN 145 


VARGAS GIRL—pictoriat - ALBERTO VARGAS 148 
THE GREENING OF THE COCKTAIL HOUR —drink......EMANUEL GREENBERG 151 
THE TERMINAL MAN— fiction = MICHAEL CRICHTON 154 


MONDAY'S CHILD—pictorial J. FREDERICK SMITH 157 
YOURS SINCERELY —ribald classic POGGIO BRACCIOUNI 165 
IN A WORLD THEY NEVER MADE—verse. " . 166 
INTRODUCTION x E NADINE GORDIMER 166 
AN AGONY. -JOYCE NOMAFA SIKAKANE 168 
PIGEONS AT THE OPPENHEIMER PARK OSWAID MBUYISENI MTSHAU 168 
THE WATCHMAN'S BLUES... .. OSWAID MBUYISENI MTSHAU 168 
THE CLOTHES... ess MONGANE WALLY SEROTE 169 
TAKEN FOR A RIDE 5 STANLEY MOTJUWADI 169 
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN -m SYDNEY SEPAMLA 169 
SEERSUCKER'S BACK IN TOWN—attire оо ROBERT 1. GREEN 171 
BESTIAL SEX—humor...... = = ШЕ LORENZ 172 
ON THE SCENE— person: CM M Kc IL 
PLAYBOY POTPOURRI. CRM T ты. пдд 


GENERAL OFFICES: гїлүзот BUILDING, эш NORTH MICHIGAN AVE, CHICAGO. алани бош! METUNN FOSTAGE MUST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS AND PHOTO. 
GEARS ыжыттгь iF THEY ARE TO BE RETURNED AND мо RESPONSIBILITY CAN BE ASSUMED FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIALS, ALL FIGHTS (^ LETTERS SENT TO PLAYBOY WILL 
Р aa NS UMCONDITIONALLY ASSIGNED FOR PUBLICATION AND COPYRIGHT PURPOSES AMD Аз SUBJECT TO PLAYBOY'S UNRESTRICTED тант то Corr AND то couMENT 
EDITOMALLY. CONTENTS COPYRIGHT © 1972 BY PLAYHOY ALL RIGHTS RESEAVED PLAYBOY AND RABIT HEAD SYMBOL ARE MARKS OF PL REGISTERED U S. PATENT OFFKE 
БО aADh MARQUE DEOSEE. NOTHING мат BE REPRINTED IN WHOLE OK IN PART WITHOUT NMITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUBLISHER ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN. THE 
Жом AWO PLACES IM THE FICTION AMO SEMIFICTION IN THIS MAGAZINE AND ANY REL PEOPLE AND PLACES IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL CREOITS: COVER: MODEL BARBI KENTON. 
PHOTOGRN ornen еногося; V. BILE ARSEMAULI. P 3. IDS DAVID CHAN, P 455, 185, ARTHUR ELLIS, THE мазнакотон POST. P з. FICHARO 
Жанн P мз төк DWIGHT HOMER. P». CARL IRL. P. 1.4.5 F MCCORMICK, P. 3. J GARRY O'ROURKE, ғ 3 (4). 75. 5ШТАММЕ SEED P 3 (2) VERON L SMITH, P 3 (0. 194 


PLAYBOY. WAY. 1971. VOLUAE 19. NUMBER S- PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY PLAYBOY, IN RATIONAL AND REGIONAL EDITIONS, Рілтвої BUILDING, 
амво. сато. t шєт SECONDXLASS FOSTAGE PAID AT CHICAGO, ILL, AMO AT ADDITIONAL MAILING OFFICES. SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE о з. M 


> 


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UR Polaroid’ Focused Flash 400s. 


PLAYBOY 


When the 5 
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remembering 
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A long, slender, 
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You're ahead in 
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Available with 
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Get behind an 

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Or try a Panetela 
a Saber or any опе 
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Antonio y Cleopatra. 
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Real flavor, quality tobaccos 
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keep Grenadiers up front. 


PLAYBOY 


HUGH M. HEFNER 
editor and publisher 


ARTHUR KRETCHMER executive editor 
ARTHUR PAUL art director 
JACK J. KESSIE managing editor 
MARK KAUFFMAN photography editor 


EDITORIAL 
DON WAX, MURRAY. FISHER, NAT LEHRMAN 
lant managing editors 
ARTICLES: DAVID BUTLER associate editor 
FICTION: ROMIE MACAULEY editor, SUZANNE 
MC NEAR, STANLEY PALEY assistant editors 
SERVICE FEATURES: 10M OWEN modern living 
editar, кошка WIDENER, RAY WILLIS assistant 
editors: oneer 1. GREEN fashion director, 
WALTER HOLMES fashion coordinator, 
DAVID rtAt associate fashion cdilor; 
THOMAS MARIO food & drink editor 
STAFF; MICHAEL LAURENCE, ROBERT J. SHEN, 
DAVID. STEVENS senior editors; 
GEOFFREY NORMAN, REG POTTERION, FRANK м. 
RONSON, DAVID STANDISH, CRAIG VETTER staff 
writers: WILLINM. J. HELMER, 
GRETCHEN NC NEEM. associate editors: 
LAURA LONGLEY MANE, DOUGLAS BAUER, 
DOUGLAS C. BENSON, TOBA J. COHEN 
ARNIE WOLFE assistant editors: SUSAN 

ARIARA NELLIS, LAURIE SADLER, 
T. AMMERMAN research editors; 
ү (business & finance) 
| RICHARD WARREN LEWIS, 
изү, RAY RUSSELL, JEAN ERD, 
KENNETH TYNAN, BRUCE WILLIAMSON (movies), 
тома UNGERER contributing editors; 
MICHELLE URRY associate cartoon editor 
COPY: ARLENE BOURAS editor, 
STAN Амак assistant editor 
ADMINISTRATIVE SERVICES: 
‘MEO FREDERICK personnel director; 

PATRICIA PAPANCELIS rights & permissions; 
MILDRED ZIMMERMAN administrative assistant 
лат 

4L. MICHAEL SISON executive assistant; 
TOM STAEBLER, KERIG POPE associate directors; 
пов POST, KOY MOODY, LEN WILLIS, CHET 

GORDON MORTENSEN, FRED NELSON, 
raczek assistant directors; 
BAKER, VICTOR HUBBARD, 
JOUN куох arl assistants 

PHOTOGRAPHY 

MARILYN GRABOWSKI, ALFRED DE RAT, MEL 
SUMITS (Lech nical), HOLLIS WAYNE associate 
editors; тал. л DAVIN сиам, васил» 
FEGLEY, DW POSAR, 
ALENAS окил мај photographers: 
CARL URL associate staf) photographer; 
ıro кле. photo lab supervisor: 
JANICE BERKOWNTT. chief stylist; 
FRANCINE GOURGUFCHON stylist 


PRODUCTION 
JOHN мәзіно director; ALLEN VARGO 
manager: ELE ANORE WAGNER, RITA JOHNSON, 
istants 


READER 

CAROLE CRAIG director 
CIRCULATION 

AS C. WILLIAMS customer services: 

IN WIEMOLD subscription manager; 

ENT THOMPSON newsstand manager 


HOWARD g director 


PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES, INC 
nonrer s. mrss business manager and 
associate publisher; RICHARD 5. ROSENZWEIG 
cutive assistant to the publisher: 
cuand м. кокк assistant publisher 


PLAYBOY, Мау 1972, Vol. 19, No. 5. Published 
monthly by Playboy. Playboy Building, 919 
N. Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Mlinois 00611. 


‘ { 
<a Sy - 
> Т TT 2 
MU 
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DEAR PLAYBOY 


{EJ 005655 PLAYBDY MAGAZINE « PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 N. MICHIGAN AVE., CHICAGO, ILLINDIS 60611 


GETTING AWAY FROM IT ALL? 
George Malko's sensitive article faith- 

fully portrays the breakup of old customs 
and old communities. But America: 
Loved It and Left It (vtayvoy, February) 
is not only the story of Nick С 
turo and his flight from Ameri 
the end of the first act of an ongoing 
drama. The realization that the melting 
process has given us litle genuine inte- 
gration is just sinking in. Polite toler 
ance. yes; cooperation on some cor 
problems, yes; but real integration 
nd act, on which the сш. 
be the story of ethnic 
wisane. a revitalization of ethnic 
and a delense of traditional 
«established. communities. Из 
а phenomenon so marked that some ше 
to Gul the Seventies the decade 
of the ethnic. 

Donald L. Miller 

Editor. European Edition 

Washington New Approach 

Washington, D. C. 


Like Nick Caraturo, 1 believe America 
is going [rom bad to worse—and going 
fast. The American public is being sold 
down the road by a handful of politi- 
cians who are out lor their own personal 
giin at the expense of the majority of 
us, The quality of life in the U.S. is 
slowly deteriorating. The citizens are be- 
victimized by Dorced imegration, and 
if th: dom, UI eat your Playmate 
нео. The Negro race and the Puerto 
Ric е going 10 have it bener th: 
uy white folks if we don't watch out. 

Glenn D. Sprague, 
Great Barrington, Massachusetts 


I disagree politically with Nick Gara- 
ture on every possible level, but through 
Malko's 
Nicks disillection. The false promises, 
the packaged set of values, the Ame 
dream in all its worst materialistic trap 
pings and the conditioned. bigotry w 
the foundations of Nick's life. His story 
is tragic not use Nick accepted 
this dream se the rest of us 
could offer nothing as an alternative 

Avery Gorman 
New York, New York 

Corman is a longlime documentary- 
film writer, recently turned novelist with 
“Oh, God!” 


dem locus P was moved by 


сан 


I really sympathize with Nick, because 
1 feel very much as he does. But there is 
one difference that would surprise him 
Tam a person of color; 1 have spent 
most of my adult life abroad and haven't 
d a place where I can run 
с, because of so many Nicks who 
preceded me there. I've lost track of the 
times Europeans have been surprised 
1 fence, and very well, because some 
American told them 1 was good 
for only street fighting and eating chit- 
terlings. 1 love my country and Гуе given 
20 years to the defense of it. Now ех- 
pect to gladly spend the remainder of my 
life trying to bring about the necessary 
changes that will save America 
Charles R. Hall 
McGuire AFB. New Jer 


The dismal porosit of my old neigh- 
borhood that Malko painted annoyed 
me. My parents have lived two blocks 
from the Сапишо home since 1937. My 
brother and 1 were good friends with 
Nick and his family and we remain close 
to many residents in the arca, The resi- 
dential sections of the neighborhood 
have held remarkably well and I'm not 
wate of such drastic changes that would 
cause the residents to panic. Ir may be 
that your article says more about the Cara 
turos as individuals than about the area. 
Robert D. Uher 
White Plains, New York 


le a 
frankly, Fm appalled, T, too, am contem 
plating migrating 10 Australia, but my 
reason is to escape people like Nick 
Caraturo. If the Silent. Majority is mov- 
ing to Australia in such numbers, per 
haps 1 should wait and 
to all uie üouble of pack 
that all the problems I'm try 
behind have preceded me. 
Dale Wares 
APO New York, New York 


Гус just finished Malko's аз 


g to leave 


As ат Australian who has lived in 
your country for the past two years, I 
feel that America: Loved It and Left It 
needs more perspective if it is going 10 
be of any value to your readers. The 
uth is that Australia із definitely no 
Shangri-La and will never fit the roman- 

c image of a frontier 
Americans seem to 


country that 
have of it. Right 


YEARS, $08 FOR TWO YEARS, $10 FOR ONE YLAR EU 


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PLAYBOY 


12 


the aver 


ge Aus п is experi 
encing many of the same problems that 
conlvont the average American. Aus 
walia has overcrowded smoggy cities that 
would rival any here. Wages arc less 
than half those here, yet ihe cost of 
living is only a fraction below that of the 
U.S. Americans are forever complaining 


about the taxes, but wait until they 
meet the Austra man, He's bru- 
tal, Politically ng, Australia is 
deader than а doornail; the Liberal 


Party has been in office so long that the 
1 more closely resembles a dy- 
anything else. 

may best be 


nasty 
also have wi 


termed a 
1956 American world view: rabid nation- 
alism, gross intolerance of all minority 


groups (including Americans), material 
im and contempt Гог nonconformists 
of any kind. So. for the majority of 
Americans, g to Ausualia i 
somewhat to paying 1972 
prices for a 1956 model, and, frankly, 
ripoff. As if this weren't bad 
enough, there is the thought that а siza- 
ble number of Americans are contem- 
plating emigration to Australia because 
they are disgusted with their life situa- 
tions here, Well, I would imagine that 
before one even considers living іп an- 
other country, he should at least have 
some feeling for that country and a 
general idea of what everyday life is like 
there. Australia is no place for recreat- 
ing ofd-country fantasies and Aust 

hold no great love for g 


ing at their shores. No one wants to 
think of his country as а garbage can for 
other country's failures, and th 
lly true with the chauvinistic 
Australians. 
Tim Bullen 
Encinitas, California 
Т. too, think of myself as a "hard 
working, deeply conscientious and, most 
of all, fundamentally patriotic Ameri 


can.” L, too, left. There, thank God, any 
resemblance between me and Nick € 
turo ends, I didn't leave America hating 
anyone and I didn't take any guns with 
me. Malko's subject is a fine example of 
the kind of man who will find someone 
atter where he lives 
D. A. Brinig 


to hate no 


Loudon, England 
TOUCHING REPLIES 
In contrast to. Bernard Gunther and 


Paul seo's picta 1 essay I ho Are We? 
(rrAvmoy, February), we feel that no 
form. of eness technique can. 
help a woman whose self is described as 
^ or "a child" commu 
with а man who's portrayed as 7 
of energy" and “а mass of desire: 
man brings all the energy to a relation- 
ship and the woman takes this energy by 
wanting "to feel wanted," eventually he 
Ш feel his energy drained because such 
a chili-woman can never get enough 


ense 


love from anyone. A woman needs her 
own energy. Unfortunately, the woman 
as child appea!s to the man because he 
does not have to fear the castration of 
s by a child. It is a pity Who 
We? mirrors the sex-role structure 
of society and that therapists like 
Gunther, who fancy themselves at the 
front of psychic liberation, go on perpet- 


uating this dead-end style of man- 
woman relationship. 
Diane Deutsch. 


Dan Sullivan, Di 
Princeron Gestalt Ce 
Ringoes, New Jersey 


Who dre We? was а pleas to be- 
hold and pure Gunther. It exemplified 
his contribution to tke movement away 
from alienation and to full human com- 
munion. So many have yet to learn that 
опе docs not make love lo but with 
nother. For when two meet in open 
wonder and honesty and truly make 
love. what is created is the product of a 
mutual effort. 


Mel Chaitlin 
Oxnard Beach, Californi: 


WATCHING BIG BROTHER 
Robert Shenill’s Big Brother Watch- 
ing You? See Sam Ervin (рълувох, Е 
ruary) was an е 
journal at its finest. WI 
from Sherrill’s article is a portrait of a 
singular personality, one who takes his 
job and  democracy—seriously.. Unfor- 
tunately, the Sam Ervins of our nation 
are a dying breed. 
Elizabeth Bo 
Baton Rouge 


Louisiana 


Robert Sherrill’s piece on Senator 
Sam Ervin is unfair, inaccurate and mis 
leading in several important respects. 
ist, there is Sherrils incredulity that a 
conservative would be leading the oppo 
sition to Federal invasions of individual 
cy when conservatives have fought 
Big Government from the beginning. 
Second, when Sherrill twists history by 
suggesting that conservatives were re- 
sponsible for the cenualization of Fed- 
eral Government power, 1 must protest. 
If conservatism has one central thrust. it 
is the exaltation of the individu: 
addition, Shaill gratuitously denigrates 
Senator Ervin's mastery of the Constitu- 
tion by claiming that his role as the 
aes pre-eminent constitutional au 
thority is not duc to his ability but to 
cant competition" from his colleagues. 
Those who doubt Senator Ervin's consti- 
tutional knowledge should read his 62- 
page colloquy with Justice Abe Fortas at 
the Judiciary Committee hearings on 
the latter's nomination for Chief Justice. 
Finally, Sherrill implies that Senator Er- 
vin decided to abandon his con 
on individual liberties in order to sup- 
port William Rehnquist for Supreme 
Court Justice and claims that the Sena- 


tions 


tor "passed" on questioning dhe uomi- 

‘The record, however, shows th he 
in fact, comment on the nomince. 
And though Sherrill cites the Senator's 
remark “I do not want to be shaken in 
example of pathos, 
the transcript indicates it was humorous, 
showing that laughter followed 


Mark Edelman 
Charlottesville, Virginia 

LAFFERTY'S FOLLY 
Several book publishers, most science: 
fiction ma and a couple of literary 
wines have heretolore offered the 
fiction of опе R. A. Lafferty—now, with 


Rangle Dang Kaloof (riavwov, Febru 
гу). You join the list. Should rLaywoy 
have exposed Lalfertys mad universe 
le audience? The enjovability 
rtistry of his tales must be weighed 
against the posibility of precipi 
unpredictable change in the reader's 
consciousness. 


Robert Werner 
Albany, New York 


FULLER VISIONS 
Thank you for your February inter- 
view with Buckminster Fuller. Не las 
been my metaphysical mentor since his 
пе Chains to the Moon, In the жола 
that he projects, we shall have по busi 
ness types, generals and politicians, law- 
yers and bankers. As he so well intimate 
computers will replace all of them. If 
Fuller has a fault. it's his unwillingness 
to assume. leadership and his failure to 
reduce his genius to a road map lo: 
beginners—so that they can just walk 
out of the system. taking with them 


the bener technologies with which to 
begin a new, clean, homo-Gestali, hom 
syn tic civilization. To live а beaut 


ful life is all 99.9 percent of humanity 
really seeks, But we are deprived of this 
by the vicious lusts of the one tenth of 
one percent whose laws and rapacious 
political and economic systems are de- 
лей to enslave even (hem. Fuller would 
elevate humanity, but the tenth of 


percent take the opposite view: “I we 
cannot lower heaven, then we shall 
raise hell." 

Mark С. Stewart 


Coeur d'Alene, Idaho 


I object to Fuller's theory thar it is 
well within the reach ol geneticists to 
reverse the process of evolution and to 
breed people back to monke е, 


Darwin be praised—except that most 
adults 1 know are а bunch ol horses 
ases Aren't we going to need a lor of 


grazing land? 
Mary Н. Malefyt 
Pontiac, Michi; 


No other journalistic form could so 
well have shown the light of the coming, 
age as your interview with Fulle 
proved to me that there is no real diller- 
ence between the man who sees the 


JUSTERINI 
Founded 1749 pe 


EXPERIMENTS IN PLEASURE 


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PLAYBOY 


14 


nd the man who 


system falling apart 
sees it as something to tear apart. Both 
sce civilization as something existing out- 
side themselves and go on believing it 
impossible to control their own late. 
Fuller, in contrast, puts as much laith in 
today as in tomorrow, knowing existence 
is neither the end nor the beginning, just 
the continuous flow of life. 

Jan 


s R. Hedges 
Warsaw, Indiana 


Reading between the lines of Buck- 
minster Fuller's comments, one can find 
a reasonably manageable formula for 
becoming a pop hero. First, you glorily 
man's potential. This appeals to almost 
everyone, since everyone likes to think 
his potential is unlimited, no matter 
how meager his output. Then imply 
that everybody knows things he either 
should or would likc to know but 
doesn't, The readers will be gratified. 
But say that they know these things 
intuitively. Then the reader сап recon- 
cile this new "knowledge" with his ab- 
sence of any conscious awareness of the 
topic hefo L If you don't 
something. associate it with а 
word— guilt by association is alwa 
to avoid. For example, say an attitude 


sizing that you're a comprehensivist. 
That way, you have а built-in excuse for 
saying things that are factually wrong. It 
would be amusing to hear a debate 
between Fuller and a more factually 
oriented antagonist on some of the for- 


mers claims; for example, with Paul 
Ehrlich on the daim that there is no 
overpopulation problem. I have no 


doubt abour the outcome. 
Angus McDonald, Ph. D. 
Clarke Institute of Psychiaury 
Toronto, Ontario 


READERS’ RIFF 


In perusing /а & Pop '72 (pLavnoy, 
February), we can only conclude that a 
poll that finds Ian Anderson rated 


above Rahsaan Roland Kirk on flute, 
George Harrison above Ravi Shankar on 
sitar and the Carpenters above The Roll- 
ing Stones in the vocal-group competi- 
tion loses its credibility and proves itself 
to be a farce. 


Berton Avene 
Tod Brody 
Riverside, Ca 


fornia 


Your comments on Jim Morrison, 
both in the record review of The Doors 
Other Voices im the February Playboy 
After Hours and in the profile of his 
selection to the Hall of Fame in Jazz & 
Pop 72, are the first intelligent acknowl- 
edgments of the rock-god-poct’s work I 
have read. I found myself both disap- 
pointed and disgusted over the disparity 
between the braves generously pub- 


lished for Jimi Hendrix and Janis 
Joplin upon their deaths and the dimir 
ished comments reserved for poor ole 
Jim. When I read your pieces and found 
Ше first enlightened critiques оп the 
intent and accomplishments of this 20th 
Century Marquis de Sade, 1 
to find that someone besides myself 
could sce the meaningful content 
Morrison's work. Adios James, 
really had your shit togethe 

John W. Socha 

APO New York, New York 


you 


CHICKEN DELIGHT 
Robert F. Youngs Chicken Itza 
(rtAvmov, February) reveals а style of 
writing that keeps science-fiction readers 
amused, confused and delightfully satis- 
fied. His descriptive ability makes one 
wish he were reading a book instead of 
a short story, but the story's theme— 
man’s rejection of utopia—was fully de- 
veloped and outstandingly 1010. 
James D. Danicl 
Jackson, М 


vas quite impressed with the Gi 
comettilike strength of the Van Hocy- 
donck construction illustrating Chicken 
Hza. Wt seemed to transcend the techno- 
aesthetic out of which it stemmed, And, 
as u ge was artfully designed. 
Myles Eric Ludwig 
Editorial Director 
Advertising Trade Public 
New York, New York 


PEERLESS PURDY 
When it comes to the postwar history 

of the company, Кеп W. Purdy's "7n- 
credible, Mr. Rolls!” “Mind-Boggling, 
Mr. Royce!” (vtavnoy, February) 
part of the story that has never been 
accurately documented before, I was a 
Rolls-Royce insider who was completely 
miliar with the financial problems of 
the company and I did not mention 
them in my book Silver Ghosts and Silo 
Dawn, lor fear of p ating what I 
knew then to be the ultimate crash. 

W. A. Robotham 

Ashford, England 


For informed, in-depth reporting on 
the immediate scene or on the history of 
automobiles and automobile sport, Pu 
dy is without peer. PLAYBoY's unique 
expertise is surely one of its great at- 
tractions and is in по way bette! 
plified han by 
automotive subjects, 
Cameron R. Argetsi 
Director of Professional Racing. 
Sports Car Club of. America 
Westport, Connecticut 


There's a message in Ше Rolls-Royce 
ntly, a preoccupation with 
lity cngincering, to the neglect of 
nily called "modern m: 
gement techniques,” brought the firm 
down. Production of incomparably fine 


atos has never varied, but corporate 
RR was done in by faulty bookkeeping 
tragic commentary on the complex- 
ities of contemporary Ше. Henry Royc 
mechanic, would weep. 
Hal Demeter 
Chicago, Illinois 


ING THE EARTH 

а Sussman's parody The Hole 
Catalog (ptAvsoY, February) 
shows that the only person who better 
understands the real catalog is publisher 
ewart Brand himself. You've got to love 


something before you can parody it 
well, and that shows through in Suss 
man’s Catalog—even when he's poking 


fun at the slightly self-righteous, са 
than-thou attitude that always hovered 
around our now-defunct favorite guide 
to the universe. 


Tommy Ynetka 
spen, Colorado 


We want to thank Gerald Sussman lor 
getting us into fox husbandry. If we 
rth Catalog, we'd 
still be raising ground hogs—which tend 
то be surly and yield milk with only the 
greatest reluctance. As Sussman suggests, 
we're giving our foxes plenty of love and 
tranquilizers, and when those fail we rec- 
ommend broiling them with apple slices. 
Very tasty. 


hadn't read his Hole 


Sebastian and Judy Flood 
Key West, Florida 


ALL FOR ALGREN 

Nelson Algren’s The Fast Carrousel 
(Lavrov, February), in its attention to 
detail and its recall of the nuances of life 
in the Thirties, knocked me out. I've 


followed Algren’s work since his carly 
days with а w / group in the Works 
Progress Admi Studs Ter- 


kel 
spect for the average hard-worl 
and never lets him—or us—down, 
Bill Gilhooly 
Chicago, Illinois 


Somehow, Algren manages to find 
something wonderful about those pre- 
dustbowl days in the Southwest. Sure, 
ics were bad, but people like Melvin 
and Doggy were worth knowing no n 
ter what the hardship. Often, late at 

t, when the air is dry and hot, I 
calliopes. too. 
Bob Payne 
Los Angeles, California 


and others, 


LIFE LINES 

Brock Yatess You Bet Your Life 
(а. луноу, February) is most stimulating, 
but it raises more questions for me than 
it answer. First, we can't define why 
people defy death. It may be truc that 
there is a physiological reason, but 
we have no evidence to either confirm 
or deny this theory at present. Some 
researchers theorize that certain death 
defiers may do what they do be 
they're so fasci 


ді. In just the 


lî gives KOOL 


Worning: Tha Surgeon Сапега! Hes Determined 
That Cigarette Smoking ls Dangerous t Your Health 


18 mọ. "tar; 1.4 mg. nicotine av. per cigarette, ЕТС Report Aug. 71 


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18 


that they're unaware of the dangers. 
Others may have a fundamental biologi- 
need for realization or accomplish- 
nent; some may have an exploratory 
drive. Yet others seck to dramatize themi- 
selves as heroes, cven—or especially—if 
it means death. In all likelihood, cach 
case is a dillerent compound of these 
and other motivations. We'll need а 
great deal more knowledge than we 
have now to be able 10 understand "bet- 
ting your life.” 
W. Edgar Gregory, Ph. D. 
Professor of Psychology 
University of the Pacific 
Stockton, C: 


Yates gives us sou 


d reasons for appre- 
ing and encouraging behavior usu- 
у considered odd. The prejudice 
gainst taking risks has been formed par- 
tially by people in the mental-health field, 
such as these psychiatrists and psychol- 
s who argue that anyone involved in 
a high-risk activity is mentally ill aud is 
only wishing death. To me, this reflects 
the shrinks’ own biases, since they are 
people, in general, who take no calcu- 
lated. risks. There is much disagreement 
on the question of suicide, but my guess 
is that there are extreme differences be 
tween those taking great risks to avoid 
being killed and those who attempt to 
kill themselves. 


Thomas 8. Eliseo, Ph. D. 
Clinical Psychologist 
Rockford, Illinois 


OK, so some people risk their lives: 
maybe they have a death wish. But why 
choose Lindbergh as a case in point? 
Lucky Lindy himself vigorously rejects 
this press appellation, and in his book 
The Spirit of St. Louis, he meticulously 
describes the design, tryout and develop- 
ment of the machine, which, inciden- 
ually, used the most reliable engine then 
available. Maybe he lucky, but he 
sure was calculating. 


th, Ph. D. 
tment of Psych 
University of. Alberta 
Edmonton, Alberta 


Yates recognizes the paradoxical incon- 
sistency that applauds the feats of a Lind- 
bergh but derogates the religious zealot 
who tries to scale à. mountain. But in 
arguing that “civilization will become 
so perfect . . . it will tolerate no in- 
dividual risk taking whatsoever, 
eveals a widely held false assumption. 
To imagine ап ultimate 
without deviation assumes that devi 
tion is harmful to society. In fact, the 
opposite is often true, though not by the 
deyiant’s design or intent. In a complex 
society such as ours, the deviant makes 
us understand that what we share most 
n common is w wc do mot do. In 

aller, simpler societies, social solidar- 
ity is based more upon shared affirmative 
actions, and taking or other types of 


civili 


deviation are more consistently viewed. 


Most tribal societies, for instance, had 
warrior rituals. Yale sociologist Kai Erik- 
this argument а step further. 


son 
If we can atribute benefits to devia- 
tion, he asks, then doesn't society uncon- 
sciously promote it? It’s unfortunate but 
true that once anyone is labeled a de- 
viant, most expect he will continue to 
act like one. From this perspective, our 
inconsistent attitudes toward. risk-takers 
may be more comprehensible. 

Mark Abrahamson, Chairman 

Department of Socivlogy 

Syracuse University 

Syracuse, New York 


In quoting my thesis on К. E. (risk 
exercise), Brock Yates may have misled 
some readers, The R.E. concept states 
that man in his primitive state took 
daily risks in his hunt for food and in 


defending his territorial rights. But 
these daily challenges were well calculat- 
ed, not foolhardy. Our studies have 


shown that risk exercises practically nev- 
er place one’s life in danger but do 
engender vigor, courage, joy and peace 
of mind in the great majority of individ- 
uals who participate in them. 
Sol Roy Rosenthal, M. D., Ph. D. 
Professor of Preventive Medicine 
University of Ilin 
Chicago, Illinois 


The poor dumb sap who wrote You 
Bet Your Life does not know, and prob 
bly never will know, what it is to lay it 
on the linc. 


Evel Knievel 
Hollywood, С; 


ifornia 


WEET SOUNDS 
Music for Four Fars and Other Sound 
Ideas (vtavnoy, February) explained, 
to the point and in terms accessible to 
everyone, the complex field of audio 
equipment. Your knowledgeable descrip- 
tions of the many audio systems were 
excellent—and so well packed with in- 
formation that all of us learned from 
them. You've performed a public service. 
George B. Bednar, Jr. 
Executive г 


ON THE WELFARE SCENE 

On the Scene (vLaywoy, February) 
featured George Wiley, head of the Na- 
tional Welfare Rights Organization, Ad- 
mittedly, you have your view, but 1 have 
another. On a recent talk show, Wiley 
and a black woman whose family was 
supported. by welfare appeared. together. 
d no husband, did not work and 
did not want to work, and thought she 
should get even more money from wel- 
fare, claiming she had every intention of 
having as many more children as she 
wished. When asked if he and his organ- 
would counsel this woman to 
limit the size of her family, Wiley re- 


plied that she had every right to have as 
many children as she wished. It is this 
kind of thinking that has contributed 
ħtily to the current financial dificul- 
ties in which most of the large cities of 
this country find themselves. For ma 
years, Wiley and his ilk have encouraged 
à system that rewards the unwed mother 
for having more children, many of 
whom become lifelong problems for 
the society that spawned them. I think 
Wiley is grinning so broadly because he 
feels he’s fooled so many people. But not 
everybody, c. We're wise to you. 

R. Dunleigh Harlan V 

New York, New York 


Geor 


CHOICE WORDS 

Long after the appropriate season, I 
am loaded with honors, gifts and feelings 
of good will from your selection of 
Murder at Cobbler's Hulk (July 1971) 
best short могу in Playboy's Annual 
Writing Awards  (etAvwov, 
The sole flaw in my conte 
has been my German translator, who 
has sent me a. list of questions about the 
story on the lines of “Vy you call it 
murder, the lady drown herself. Iss the 
title ironical? Your main character iss 
vurm, total vurm!” But she is a charm 
ing lady and greatly admires my work 


and, by now, must ve translated 
most of it. 
It is the bitching hour in Dublin; dusk, 


rain coming down through a colinde 
the bay invisible, Joyce's Sandymount; it 
is the hour when I arrive at my second 
martini, so you know how happy I feel 
My archepiscopal blessings on you all. 
and my thanks. 


АП of us in the Mole Lodge thank you 
for that great award you gave us for 
The Mole People Battle the Forces of 
Darkness (August 1971). When Old 
Leather Ass heard about it, he decided 
we would have a campfire singsong cele 
brating the fact that Mole Lodge had 
won another prize, but when he found 
out that it was PLAYBOY that gave us the 
award, he got so mad that he made us 
turn out the lights опе hour earlier. 
They don't allow PrAvsoy here at Camp. 
Nobba-WaWa-Nockec, but a couple of 
Beavers have a copy hidden under their 
bunks. Skunk, Schwartz and all of us ar 
really glad we won that badge, even 


though we can't read about it. We're 
gonna try to win it again next year, 
when we stop being Chipmunks and get 


our Beaver badges. 

Biggie, our counselor, also says to tell 
you that the Playmate for February had 
а real great pair of knockers. Не won't 
tell us what knockers аге, but he said 
you'd know. 


Jean Shepherd 
New York, New York 


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PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


Nowe lovers that we are, we were 
gladdened io receive, a while back, 
m genetic 


а later that awakened 4 
memories of goldfish swallowing, dance 
marathons and Coca-Cola trays. Let us 
share it with you: 

“Dear PLAYBOY: 

"| am writing to inform you of the 
renaissance of ап old sport, pole squat- 
ting. L Kenneth Gidge, aged 25, am 
sining on a flagpole on Route 114 in 
Peabody, Massachusetts. 1 have been sit- 
ting here approximately one month, and 
1 plan to keep sitting here until I break 
the world’s record of 211 days, 9 hours, 
set by Miss Maurie Rose Kirby of Indian- 
apolis, Indiana, She staged her squat as 
a protest against having been called a 
juvenile delinquent, 

“1 am sitting up here for three rea- 


sons. First, as an unemployed actor, I 
n looking for publicity that will get 
me а job. Second, I am writing a book 
about my experiences as a flagpole sitter. 
And third, I want to break the record. 

I am living in a 6 x x 7 fiberglass 
dwelling with two windows and a trap 
door in the roof, 30 feet off the ground. 
For amusement I have а radio, T 
typewriter, tape recorder and dozens of 
books. Food and water are brought up 


то me by means of a basket, In addition, 
the place is equipped with a small hcat- 
er, chemical toilet, table and chair, 
sleeping bag and wall-to-wall carpeting. 
1 have had many interesting and 
incredible experiences so far in my flag 
polesitüng career, including 72 radio 
interviews and several newspaper inter- 
views. I would be honored if you feel 
that what I am doing is worthy of 
mention in PLAYBOY. 

Sincerely, Kenneth Gidge. 

Well, we somehow felt it was wor- 
thy of mention and dispatched Senior 
litor Michael Laurence to the scene. 
Laurence has traveled the world over on 
PLAYBOY assignments. In one heroic ef- 
fort, he was interned, at President Sukar- 
no's expense, at the poshest hotel in 
Djakarta for the duration of Indonesia's 
ghtday revolution (only two of which 
тепсе can recall). Subsequently, he 


was wounded by a native arrow while in 
Laos researching one of PLAYBOY'S girls 
of-the-world features. Still, he reckons 
that the Р Massachusetts, flag 
pole squat was his toughest assignment 
to date. His report: 

“The first stirrings of panic came with 
the realization that to interview a flag- 
pole sitter, you have to climb a flagpole. 
1 get vertigo on bar stools. But there 1 
was, both feet firmly on the ground, 
shouting up at a lite white birdhouse, 
hundreds or even thousands of feet above 
me, and hearing its occupant’s basso chirp 
that a ladder was on the way. 

“Then appeared four rebarbative 
young men with an aluminum extension 
ladder, They made a great game of 
setting it up—leaping, rolling, turning 
somersaults amd doing stage pratfalls 


bod; 


They looked like the down troupe in 
Blow-Up. After much laughter, shouting 
and flailing of ropes, the ladder was 
raised and secured. 1 mounted it with 
all deliberate speed. Thirty-two halting 
steps later, 1 dove headfirst through a 
1wo-foorsquare window and landed in a 
heap on Kenneth Сіірез wall-to-wall 
carpeting. 

“Glad you made it,’ my host informed 
me. “Those guys are all stoned.” 

“L suddenly felt 1 had an insight into 
how one entertains oneself on а 300-day 
flagpole squat, but I mist 
Gidge turns out to be а charmin 
sincere young man, not only straight but 
husky and a bit rotund, with а well. 
trimmed beard, a warm leprechaun smile 
and a penchant for publicity stunts. His 
pad was somewhat less cordial. The octag- 
onal hut was built to his specifications, 
but, he informed me, he wasn't sure it 


was 


was adequately stressed to hold two 
people. 
"Such intelligence does not invite 


«сер or lengthy conversation. The pole 
itself pierces the hut at dead center. 
Prudence and a decent respect for New- 
tonian physics dictated that Gidge and I 
sit at precisely opposite sides, Motion on 
one side of the pole had to be compen- 
sited for by motion on the other, so our 
entire conversation resembled the руге 
tions of two cobras in heat. Perhaps 


from the way I was clutching the pole in 
a bear hug, Gidge seemed to detect my 
uneasiness. “You should be here when 
my wife comes up,’ he said. “That would 
really blow your mind. She comes up 
every Friday. Other than her and the 
telephone man, you're the only person 
who's ever visited mc. 

“Just then, one of his phones 
this was obviously a 
was a disc jockey from а West Coast talk 
show. So began Kenneth Gidge's 88th 
day aloft and his 153rd radio interview. 
The spiritual 
participatory broadcasting knows no 
bounds. For the 153rd time, Gidge ex- 
plained that solid-waste disposal wasn't 
particularly а problem, because of his 
chemical toilet (though a faint odor 
hinted that the technology wasn't all 
that pat), and that while he couldn't 
shower, he did enjoy a sponge bath 
every morning. 

“Then the other phone rang—his wife. 

1 get a lot of calls up here, he 
explained, replacing both receivers and 
unplugging the phones. "There's really 
not much else to do. I uscd to go out on 
my roof to sun-bathe, but then thc sea 
gulls started shitting on my head. So 
now I stay in. Г on the phone most of 
the time, anyway. 

"Тре talk-show disc jockeys have some 
sort of newsleter that puts them in 
touch with people who make interesting 
After doing over 150 
shows, | was beginning to think that 
they're all pretty much the same. But 
just last night this deejay in Chicago set 
up a conference call between me and a 
man named Suicide Hayes, who was bur- 
ied ten feet underground in Rocklord, 
Illinois. We had a wild talk, man. Dig 
it: Here I am up on a lagpole in New 
England, and there's old Suicide ten f 
underground in the Midwest, and we're 
rapping about our experiences, on the 
nd the pcople in Chicago are going 


rang; 
status treehouse. It 


barrenness of listener- 


conversation 


et 


wild. 


“That’s one of the reasons I'm up 
here, really. To help the little people. 
Think how many folks will never know 
what it’s like to sit nine months on top 
of a flagpole, nor what it’s like to bc 


a 


PLAYBOY 


buried ten feet underground, nor what 
it’s like to be married in an airplane 
[one of Gidge's carlier feats]. By letting 
them know what these things are like, 1 
help make their lives more interesting, 
more bearabl 

“The problems of a flagpole sitter 
are diverse and palpable, right up to 


the flag itself. Gidge had placed а mod- 
cst peace banner over his dwelling, 
but a local chapter of the Vetcrans of 


огей V nsisted he remove it, 
since it was slightly higher than an adja- 
cent Old Glory. A local politician, fear- 
ing that Gidge was demeaning the image 
of Peabody, threatened to cut him down 
with a chain saw. Gidge threw an alarm 
clock at him. 

“Not an casy life, but it docs have its 
rewards. He has already да 
offers for acting, jobs, but nobly rejected 
both, on the rea в 
they had nothing to do with his thespi- 
n talent but were bald-faced attempts 
to capitalize on the publicity that has 
accrued since he started his squat. Then, 
100, there's the undeniable and growing 
presence of his book, а surrealistic diary 
of flagpole experiences, including а 
norable interview with God, who 
pectedly in а late-night 
the chemical toilet 
for a long and fascinating rap. Besides 
such attract Gidge is getting free 
room d and $1.50 an hour 
(from Ше auto dealer on whose pole 
he sits). His expenses are literally nil, so 
he should have a nice hunk of change by 
the time he rcturns to terra firma. 

Long, loncly months after this inter- 
‚ having broken the world flagpole- 
ng record by 37 days, Kenneth Gidge 

ned to earth, manuscript іп hand, 
bowed but unbloody, destined for a guest 
appearance on What's My Line? and 
after that—who knows? He is the sort 
of person we will surely hear more of. 

Dr. Horace Naismith, our persistent 
and uninvited consultant, has now cho- 
ize our position on women's 
He scolds us for supporting 
what he considers the movement's more 
radical and unrea 
as legal. economi 
for women. As Dr. Naismith succinct- 
ly puts it, “If women are so damn equ 


nered two 


view 


retu 


iew, our ellorts on behalf of 
women have been well intended but 
counterproductive. What women need, 
he asserts, is what men already have: 
really tangible problems against which 
they can fight for s l and thereby 
make their lives "more exciting and 
meaningful in the absence of a fulfilling 
sex life." Perceptively. he suggests that 
sexual distinctions derive. from. cultural 
traditions, then notes that American 
women no longer pull plows nor get 


carried off by Indians and do not, 
rule. get sent to Vietnam. He 
without such real d 
psychological fru 
ter and manifest themselves as simple 
bitchiness. 

Dr. N 


ismith’s solution to this com- 
plex problem is simplicity itself: “Pro- 
vide these constitutional malcontents 
with something worth bitching about— 
a militant male sexist organization con 
sciously dedicated to oppressing women. 
Dr. Naismith’s proposed group is called 
MACHO, an acronymic pun for MAle 
st Organization. lis slogan. 
phrased from women's lib, would 
be "Off Their Backs, Onto Their Bellies,” 
nd its primary objective and battle ery, 
“Repeal the 19th Amendment!" —the one 
that gave women the vote. With friends 
like Dr. Naismith, militant feminists will 
not need to invent any more enemies. 
ly long and ever grow 
e credentials and аћи 

now add our official 
membership іп the P.R. D. A.—thc 
Polish Racing Drivers of America. It 
all happened rather accidentally. Brad. 
Niemcck, a founder of P, К. D, A., came 
10 Chicago to buy some Palmolive soap 
and found himself in the Playboy Build- 
ing, which was formerly occupied by the 
Palmolive people. Anyway, he ended up 
іш ош the 
P. R. D. A., telling us about it and its 
two other founders, Oscar Koveleski and 
Adamowicz, both of whom wi 
dy known to us as veteran profes- 
sional road cers—the Can-Am series, 
Formula 3000 races, that sort of thing. 
He said that the organization was founded 
to combat Polish jokes and because 
once, when Adamowicz was pushi 
car backward to put it on the starting 
gid. some race officials jumped to the 
unwa tcd conclusion that he was 
going to drive in the wrong direction. 
"This type of prejudice always riles us. 
so we asked if we m j 
the organization. The exchange went 
something like this 

Arc you Polishz" 

“No” 

Do you drive 


To our aly 
of impres 
tions, we must 


offices trying to explain 


cing c 


у ү Polish friends or 
ves who have ever seen a racing 


car?" 
No. but we love Polish sausage 
‘Good enough!" Niemcek exclaimed 
and issued us our membership card. Were 
flattered to know that not just anyonc 
can qualify as a member of the Polish 
Racing Drivers of America 


We're indebted to Bob Cromie, Chica 
go columnist and TV personality, for 
bringing to our attention a paperback 
called 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar 
Tongue. It is an unabridged reproduc- 


tion of a book con! 
university wit and pickpocket eloquence 
of London 160 years ago. One of the 
morc interesting definitions in the book 
is "PIG. A police officer." 
Our Cockeyed Optimist Aw 
the hitchhiker іп Berkele 
who stood on a street corner with 
announcing his destination as HAWAI 


ісіс 


According to a. Transaction 


ued "The Male House of Prostitution. 
male madams pride themselves on the 
fact that their business "is no fly-by 


ight operation.” 
One of the more interesting invit 
tions we've received in recent months 
was one to attend a cocktail party for 
the participants in а symposium on “The 
Coconut in the Seventies,” 


It’s enough to cur hair. After 
publication of a treatise “and the last 
word . . . on chastity,” the author wrote 
this letter-to-the-editor to his publisher: 
n the article . . . I quoted the U.S. pat- 
ent number of a design for a male chastity 
belt as 587 944. A number of readers 
have written to advise me that this pat- 
ent is for a ‘Machine for Set led 
Edges of Hat Brims’ I find 1 made a 
typing error and that the correct num- 
ber of the chastity patent is 587 991. My 
apologies to any reader who has suffered 
lasting injury through tying to use a 
“Machine for Setting Curled Edges of 
Hat Brims’ as a ‘Male Chastity Belt’ 


your 


A usually reliable correspondent re 
ports that Seate’s KIRO-TV reached the 
absolute nadir of commercial television 
while showing the movie King of Kings. 
Not only was the Sermon on the Mount 
interrupted for commercials but just after 
Judas kissed Christ's cheek in betr 
our informant swears the station brol 
for the famous breathanint questi 
he kisses you once, will he ki 


n, 
ia 


you 


“u tu can wri 120 wpm an gt a gd jb 
w | mor pa” is а speed-writing ad fre- 
quently seen on public transportation. А 
New York. friend riding on the Seventh 
Avenue-Broadway IRT өрісі one to 
which had been added, “fk nx 


The staid journal of the New Jersey 
Pharmaceutical Association headlined a 
story, rss MONTH 
OFF WITH BAN 


Ts VD AWAKE 


Haute Couture, Hard-Hat Division: 
Detroit police cited an unemployed 
steelworker for wearing a widebrimmed 
red hat, red blouse open to the waist 
black-velveteen hotpants, knee-high boots 
and eye make-up. But the judge dismissed 


>Хофаге looking: atthe most. кенші small car made 

“in Atherica. The Gferülin Жл our optional 304 V-8 

engine, the same engine ‘that comes standard an ойг 
aJavelin-AMX? 

Other sporty stbeompacts give you thei imy ion’ of 
being zippy and tóugh, too, Ви по атоо of fat stripes 
or hood scoops сап hide.the fact that the largest engine 
you'll get, ean fany of them is 4, cylinders with a maximum 


x ‘Bo with ths V-8 engine; the Gremlin xi also comes 
with awide range of ا‎ 

Fat. Polyglàs! tires. „А. begî de КЕ ‘Wide 
tim ‘sport wheels; Big brakesaitear rude jns 


Ж“ ow 


“and sj springs. A sports 


Full-synchro floor-shift. Front sway bar. Special shocks 
steering wheel. And 2 contoured 
bor seats that won't helpyou po faster, but will make 
you more comfortable. 

< This year, the 72 Gremlin X al comes with some- 
thing Jou wouldn't expect оп a sporty small car. The 
American Motors Buyer Protection Plan. 

Jus program that ‘takes care of you after you buy 
the car. nobody in the business ћав anything like it. 
No BE Why you buy the Gremlin X, though, your 

biggest joy in owning it will come on the е day you 
gi ا‎ itout for à drive and play ‘King оГ whe 
‘Optional 


PLAYBOY 


24 


the case when a 
that under current dress standa 
costume was OK for either sex. 


This month's Honesty іп Advertising 
Award goes to the party who placed the 
following ad in the New Zealand Her- 
ald: “Experienced ladies аге required 
for balling on the twilight shift .. . in 
Holeproof Mills, Royal Oak, spi 
and winding department." 


ACTS AND 
ENTERTAINMENTS 


Mercury Records threw a press party 
for Chuck Mangione just prior to his re- 
cent Carnegie Hall concert. Amid friends 
and flacks. booze and Swed 
Chuck told us something about himself 
and the 50-odd people who were to ре 
form his music on this occasion, Cou 
ing of associates (Chuck's jazz qi 
members of the Rochester Philharmonie 
students (he teaches jazz at 
School of Music) and confreres, 
rellected some of the same 1 
erogeneity that marks Chuck's special 
blend of jazz. show music, rock, folk, 
classical, Latin, country and Gospel— 
the whole spectrum. Aficr gradu: 
from he toured with 
Art Blakey, Woody Herman and May- 
nard Ferguson and began his life as 
composer, which finally led 
Together suite, parts of which were 
ing from a loud-speaker while we 
Also in attendance was Мг, Cha 
gus, who digs Chuck's music for 


the East- 
the 


tman in l 


and drive 
ignals a trend away from the creative 
strictures of rock and pop. “Young 


js the 
nd good hu 


people want something beter, 
Great Bear (whose girth 
mor have both grown since we last saw 
him). Discussion ensued of youth and 
music, of pollution in the record busi 
nes and of Mingus’ own long-awaited 
concert, which was to take place three 
nights thence. 

We adjourned to the Together con- 
cert (virtually the same as the recorded 
which promised somewhat more 


versio 


than it gave. The orchestra. periodically 
sounded and stiff, but often 
came through handsomely to interpret 


the tricky textures that characterize 
Mangione’s writing. Things sounded 
best The Fircwatchers, with sharp 
ensembles and superb flute work by 
Gerry Niewood, whose alto and tenor 


solos also added much to the evening. 
hie low point was provided by cl 


tson, 


trained guitarist Stanley W: 
fumbled and fretted his w 


cluded with Chuck's tribute to his [a- 
ther, Sixty Miles Young, with echoes of 


Miles Davis and Gil Evans as 
grocer Miles Mangione. The concerts 
light show, like many such efforts, 
most distracting when it tried to be ab- 
stract and suggestive. Whe 
last number, we got a ki 
album flashed before us in movies а 
stills, the пісіп with the music was ma 
strong and clear. Similarly, Chuck 
music is most effective when it's most 
personal, as in the Gospel blast, Freddie's 
Walkin’, offered as am encore to yet 
another standing ovation, or in the 
tuoso piece, Feel of a Vision, written for 
and brilliantly played by Lew Soloff, 
umpeter for Blood, Sweat & Tears. 

The endous re- 
sponse from 
young, white and hip, but by 
exclusively so. They grooved оп M 
тез music because it projected the 
kind of warm feeling e i 
albu 


зіс received а trei 


n audience that was mostly 


ally too glossy and clichéed, Together 
nevertheless has a sense of musical 
expansiveness and the commun 
power that have been too long absent 
from the pop scene. 

The Charles Mingus concert three days 
later was a very different sort of afl 
After much fanfare (eg. Nat Hentoff's 
nide im The New York Times) and 
expectation (this was Mingus’ first con- 
cert іп ten years), word had gone out 
that we were to witness, variously, a great 
comeback or another milestone in an 
already protean career. Mingus himself 
called this mostly bullshit and said simply 
that some very good musicians would be 
playing some of his oldest and newest 
compositions, that he had tried ао re- 
hearse them well and had done almost all 
of the arranging himself or with Teo 
Macero. 

Most of the 2800 seats 
Cent Philharmonic Hall had been 
sold and were filled with a crowd, some- 
wh 
from the obviously higher reaches of 
hipdom—outandishly fine chicks, studi 
nt males black saints and 
. They came to hear ап 18- 
piece ensemble fea ene Ammons. 
Bobby Jones, Lee Konitz, Gerry Mulligan 
nd Milt Hinton—for starters Bill Cosby 
strove manfully and entertainingly as 
. Teo Масехо, who looks like a 
an. kept dropping the score but 
aton, assisted by 
Mingus from time to time. Dizzy 
. James Moody and Randy Weston 


turing 


lles- 


With such an abui of talent, 
the concert should have been beuer. 
Though there were great moments, dull 
stretches of unswinging heavy passages 
obtruded too frequently. The failure 
was in the program itself full 
retrospective of Mingus’ care 


Unlike the Mangione co 
е been thin musi- 
Шу right for its 


cert, which т 
cally but w: 
the M 
-historical interest but tuned the 
псе out. It was more like a rehears- 
a concert. The bright moments 
evitably, when the bı 


came, ii 
ened up from the 


ht compl 


itions or 


earliest compo 
structural requisites of some of the 1 
ones: a classic blues solo by Gene / 
mons on tenor, backed up by Min: 
which ended the first part of the con- 
cert; a couple of songs by Sunny Doi 
who sounds like Duke Ellington's old 
vocalist Joya Sherrill and Ella Fitz- 
gerald combined; a piece written lor 
Roy Eldridge and marvelously played by 
18-yearold John Faddis on trumpet; 
and a few of the Mingus standards, such 
as Ез Flat Al's Flat Too. The other good 
things were segments from the new Min- 
gus Columbia, his first in 
ght years, Let My Children Hear Mu- 
we heard of it that night is 
any indication, Charles is not jiving 
when he calls it "the best album I have 
ever made." Despite some incredible set- 
backs in recent. years and a disappoint- 
ing concert. one of the great jazzmen of 
all time is back, making origi 


album on 


ART 


Fanciful interpretations of f 
jects have always fascinated рор artist 


sculptor Claes Oldenburg, creator of 
zed vinyl m cones, hot dogs 
and layer cake telephon 


shriveled plastic commodes aud enormous 
fabric shirts and ties. ^I am concerned 
h the looks of common objects,” he 
once explained, commenting on the body 
of work that brought him international 
stature as both the most imaginative and 
the most venerable representative of the 
pop movement, “with the change th: 
such objects assume il pur on another 
scale or into different materials." 

Much of Oldenburgs past is repre- 
sented among the 168 items on displ 
іп Object into Monument, an cxhibit 
organized by the Pasadena Ап Mu- 
seum and now making its way 
ihe country. Here, among many 


odd 
things, you will find a zippered baked 
potato stuffed with two huge yellow 


fried 


butter pats, а fabric gg as big 
as a beach blanket and 16 
pool balls two feet in diameter spotted 
before а gargantuan triangular rack—an 


arrangement that takes up nearly the 


re floor of onc gallery. 
The 13-year-old artist's singular. cele 


This charcoal This charcoal 
filter gives you filter gives you 
better tasting better tasting 

water. cigarettes. 


Os 


Fae LADEN 


2} 
2 
^: 
7 
А hdi 
ке” | Va 5 
a Nm FI 


A 
1 

[ 

ь < 
b. 
ч 


к=. x ] 
s C 


Filter for better taste the Tareyton way 
with activated charcoal. 


Enjoy better tasting tap water with an activated 
charcoal water filter. Get this $12.99 value water filter for 
just $5.00 and two Tareyton wrappers. 
Send check or money order (no cash) to: Water Filter, Dept. 20, 
P.O. Box 4486, Chicago, ІІІ. 60677. Offer expires Dec. 31, 1972. 
Offer limited to residents of U.S. 
Enjoy the mild taste of Tareyton with the Activated Charcoal Filter. King Size or 100's. 


King Size and 100 mm: 19 mg "ta" 13 mg. nicotine; 
aw. per cigarette, FTC Report Aug. 7I 


PLAYBOY 


Cive him 
British Sterling. 
The smashing, 
after shave and 
cologne that 
endures. You 
may both go 
down in history. 
So fine a gift 

it's even sold in jewelry stores, 


BRITISH STERLING 


29 SPEIDEL, А ейге COMPANY 


ominous light switches and. diminutive 
fire hydrants, as well as by a variation 
оп the hydraulically operated spasmodic 
ice bag that stole the show at Japan's 
Expo 70 and a prototype of his famous 
plasticbladdercd lipstick, ascending and 


descending most s a 
pillar Police harassment suffered 
during the 1968 Democratic Convention 
in Chicago inspired Oldenburg’s sketch 
for a Proposed Monument to Mayor 
Richard Daley—a severed head of th 
offending politician resting on a verdant 
setting, perhaps Lincoln Park. Othe 
sketches include a sky-high pair of scis- 
sors, symbolizing the cutting through of 
bureaucratic red tape and designed to re- 
place the Washington Monument. bloat- 
ed toilet floats that could be launched on 
the polluted Thames, and a possible 
replacement. for the Fountain of Eros 
in Piccadilly Circus—a pride of g 
phalluses. 

Curious amateurs and avowed worship- 
ers сап catch Claes іп Kansas City, Mis- 
souri (May 11 to June 18), Fort Worth, 
Texas (July 10 to August 20), Des Moine: 
Iowa (September 18 to Octobe: р 
lelphia (November through December), 
nd Chicago, where his father once 
served as Swedish consul general (Janu- 
ary through February, 1973). 


actor 


BOOKS 


In The New Sexuality: Myths, Fables ond 
Heng-Ups (Doubleday), Father Eugene С. 
Kennedy, professor of. psychology at Chi- 
cago's Loyola University, coolly 
the beliels of those who reduce sexual 
intercourse to its lowest common denomi- 
wator: games strangers play. Too much 
sex too soon, he maintains, leaves people 
"frozen at the adolescent stage of sexual 
development,” incapable of achieving gen. 
uine intimacy with a human being of the 
opposite sex. Such people, he suggests 


assesses 


may be acting out their most childish 
sexual impulses under the guise of being 
sexually liberated. The most imense ex 


citement at an orgy, for instance, comes 
less from what people are doing to one 
another than from the exhibitionism and 
voyeurism characteristic of children. first 
discovering their bodies. Sex, Father Ken 
nedy argues, cannot be used to solve all 
problems, ло satisfy a d he 
akes light of the national tende 
nswers to sexual problems from 
liddleclass America buys the 
answers masterfully rewritten for every 
audience from the puton sex of Cosmo- 
politan to the wonderfully middle-brow 
"New hope for your sex lile" pieces in 


I needs, 


E 


the Headers Digest.” Father. Kennedy 
dissects modem. myths—that everything 


is all right as long as no one gets hurt, 


inis proves 
hes for a «сере 


a person ік” 


concept of the sexual experience. Crude 
ly expressed, his aim seems to be to 
caution people against doing it more 
and enjoying it less. His understanding 
red for the fullest enjoy 
ment of sex will ring іше to sexually 
sophisticated men and women—who may 
be a bit puzzled to find such understand 
ing of the subject in а Catholic priest. 


of what is requ 


Arthur Koestler’s new book, The Case 
of the Midwife Toad (Random House). 
begins with the suicide of an Austrian 


biologist whose exp ws had mi 


gered an international scientific contro 
very. But this is a tale of fact, not 
fiction, and Koestler’s purpose in re 


counting events that took place almost 
Í a century ago is not to solve a 
ystery—but to create onc. He is less 
interested in determining why Dr. Paul 
Kammerer put a bullet through his head 
than in focusing the cu 
fact that has ever 
tempted to duplicate Kammerer's con 
troversial experiments and thus prove or 
disprove his basic contradiction of Dar- 
win's theory of evolution. Kammerer's 
work with anders and toads 
seemal 10 indicate that, as the French 
naturalist Lamarck had or Hy main 
tained, acquired characteristics can be 
inherited and evolution doesn't depend 
on blind chance and random mutations 
but reflects a progressive chain of de 
velopment. Even in Kammerers day 
few scientists gave much credence to his 
work. Six weeks after the revelation that 
а key bit of his evidence һай actually 
been falsified. Kammerer killed himself 
His suicide seemed to confirm his guilt 
nd his work was swept into the trash 
n of science—whence Koestler has re- 
After examining documents 
and letters and questioning scientists 
with firsthand knowledge of the subject. 
he reconstructs the situation aud suc- 
ceeds almost beyond doubt in «езгі 
Kammerer of any complicity in 
deception. But ошу scientists cin 
date his findings—and Koestler doesn't 
conceal his belief that no such efforts 
will ever be made. because modern 
ence sulfers from hardening of its philo- 
sophical arteries and сап no longer 
tolerate the heretical notion that onc of 
its fundamental tenets may require revi 
sion. Long after the reader has forgotten 


tention on 


ous no scientist 


с 
trieved it. 


that The Case of the Midwife Toad is 
poorly structured and gracclessly writ 
ten, he may find himself wondering why 


Kammerers experi 
with his body 


were buri 


nis 


i 


D. W. Griffith: His Life and Work (Oxlord 
University Press) is а handsome volume, 
illustrated. with some 80 pages of photo 
graphs, wherein Robert Morton Header 
son harvests the benefits. of 


meticulous 


research, based іп part on notes for 
Griftth’s unpublished autobiography 
The career of the first great. American. 


Z 
ұ4 N 
S Eus 1) 
S TE 
à Bur 
SON FF Nl 
ШЕРІН 


PLAYBOY 


© 1902, MENDREX CORPORATION, SANTA CLARA. CALIFORNIA 95052 


You're looking at part of 
the Memorex Cassette Tape story. 


The rest you have to listen to. 


Memorex Cassette Recording Tape can reproduce a pitch that 
shatters glass. And that proves we can record and play back 


with exacting precision. 


But, it doesn't tell you we've improved signa! 
to-noise ratio. Or that we've increased 
high frequency response and sensitivity 
over the tape you're probably using now. 

For that part of our story, you'll just 
have to listen to what happens when 
you record and play back your favorite 


music with cur cassette tape. 


And that's just what we hope you do. 


movie director—creator of The Birth of 
a Nation, Intolerance, Orphans of the 
Storm and а handful of lesser classics 
generally conceded to sum up most of 
the innovations that still set the stand- 
ards for cinema as an artis recounted 
with particular emphasis оп Griffith's 
professional rise and decline. Avoiding 
idolatry, the author ma 
Griffith doesn’t precisely fit th 
a misunderstood genius who became an 
outcast in Hollywood be 


use his br 


ice was too much for the barracuda- 
ke businessmen at the top. Grillith often 
scemed to be his own wort enemy— 
a failed playwright and self-styled Kei 
шеку gentleman whose heavy Чїй 
monumental ego and acsthetic excesses 
set him on the 10 ruin, Discreet to 
a fault in describing the ma rela 
tionships with “a string of young girls” 
whom he elevated to stardom, Hender: 
son sticks largely to established facts, 
more probing critical and psy- 
al insights to future biographers. 

e lapses here and there into fc 
tionlike speculation as to what the sub- 
ject might have thought or felt at a 
given moment, D. W. Griffith is a val 
uable study of the eternal clash of art 
and commerce in one of the few true 


movie greats. 

The new Donald E. Westlake comic 
crime caper, Bank Shot (Simon & Schuster), 
may delight Westlake fans, but sometl 
seems to have happened. The humor 
just lies there on the page, like con- 
gealed eggs in a pan; the charact 
(the same bumbling crew as in Hor 
Rock) seem to be searching for a scenar 
ist. It’s about а plan to steal a bank, Not 
burgle one, but steal one. You see, 
there's this Long Island town where the 
regular bank is being renovated and, 
temporarily, business is being conducted 
n an oversized house trailer across the 
street, So why not put wheels on the 
bank trailer, hook up a tractor truck 
and drive it off to a trailer park, repaint 
it in the dead of night, put cur 
the windows and crack the vault at your 


leisure? Not bad. Dortmunder, Kelp 
and Murch are back. And there's Kelp's 


nephew, Victor, the ех-ЕВ1 man (fred 
for proposing a secret handshake so 
agents could recognize one another at 
parties), playing at being a criminal 
mastermind. Yes, all the mechanics of 
funniness are here. Except а camera and 
some actors. But they're doubtless on 
the way—so why not wait for them? 


A successful suicide (that of the bril- 
liant young poet Plath) and a 
failed one (Ше author's own) got Brit- 
ish literary critic A. Alvarez to thinking 
seriously about why and how people 
decide to bring their lives to an end 
The result is The Savage God (Random 


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29 


PLAYBOY 


30 


Hairy Monster 86 


Every night Marlin McKeever 
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House). an extren 
sistently interesting 
book that surveys suicide down the 
nd from every possible angle—socially, 
psychologically, philosophically and. even 
morally. Yet all this is merely prelim 
inary to Alvarez thesis about the ad- 
vanced art of our time, which, he claims. 
lives under the sign of suic an 

other epochs lived under the sign 
of beauty or glory or a belief in truth or 
justice. What is irritating is that Alvarez 
is only half right, for he ignores all 
those poets who don't take the abrupt 
way out and still write fine poems. In 
essence, although he at one point weakly 
denies it, Alvarez secs the best modern 
ters and. artists as victims of a death. 
ty: vet he himself is so 
much the victim of purely literary values 
that he never wonders for a moment 
whether his avantgarde heroes may not 
have been led astray by personal prob- 
lems or distorted views. Instead of won 
dering and questioning, Alvarez sc 
to gloat over his long list of a 
suicides Вател, Van Gogh. 
ia Wooll—since it bols 
and he even pads it a bit 
by adding a number of dubious cases. 
such as Dylan Thomas, Brendan Behan 
and Jackson Pollock. А good antidote to 
Alvarez exaggeration is Suicide (Scrib- 
ner's). by Jacques Choron, а philosopher 
who has worked for years in the 
Prevention Center in Los Angeles and 
at the National Institute of Mental 
Health at Rockville, Maryland. Choron 
has no ax to grind, either literary or 
otherwise, so he can approach his mate 
rial with a cool head, After meticulously 
outlining and brilliantly summarizing 
all the yarious attitudes toward suicide, 
he concludes on a single note: 
may be man's proud privilege—but it is a 
privilege that obviously should not be 
abused. 


ely well-written 
t often irritating 


w 


haunted soc 


ide 


Readers not yet familiar with the 
works of D. Keith Mano might do well, 
before stumbli 
mire of The Preselytizer (Knopf). to 
wack a bit among his previous works 
(Bishop's Progress, Horn, War Is Hea 
ст, The Death and Life of Harry 
oth). A kind of comic genius emerges, 


rather. Mod approach to narrative treat 


ment, plus some of Manos stylistic 
qu Let us begin with a scene of 
арр incest, im which the : 


—complete with black eye patch 
leather gloves and with the techno- 
1 assistance of foottripped cameras 
and mechanical — mattresses—demon- 
strates his prowess before assembling his 
"daughters" for confession and prayer 
n y sets the tone for the 
novel. After a while, we discover that 
Kris Lane, millionaire bachelor and 
Tay church leader of the New Faith 


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PLAYBOY 


32 


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PLAYBOY 


м 


Loyalist of the month: 


Gene Robins recently introduced his girl friend to Ballantines 


Scotch. She, in turn, introduced five of 
Now Gene Robins has six girl friends. 


Moral: It pays to be loyal. 


Be a Ballantine's Loyalist 


&OTTLEO IN SCOTLANO. BLENDED SCOTCH WHISKY 86PROOF IMPORTED Bv 21° BRANDS. INC. NY- 


her friends to Ballantine’. 


We've added more of. 
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You'd never know it by the price. 


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ини кш 


Calif, 90248 + Canada: 5. Н. Parker Co., Ontario 


(a Pennsylvania nonconformist sect 
dating back to the 18th Century), seri 
ously believes in his power to bring 
people, at least the female half of the 
species, to God through his unusual abil- 
ity to realize his sexual fantasies of lust. 
(Moncy helps) He's чийе successful, 
тоо, g secured а mimber of the 
town’s maidens for the choi 8 down 
fall, appropriately, takes shape in the 
person of shapely young married Chloe 
McKee. Mano aho captures, through а 
combination of revulsion and laughter, 
the plight of a simple-minded man, Da- 
vid Smith (a counter to Li 1 
excesses—Chloe's psychologically impo 
tent husband), who does his best to take 
his religion seriously. This is not a. pret- 
ty book and not ely funny. Mano 
strains one's sense of outrage at а seem- 
ingly morbid preoccupation with image- 
ry on the order of, “Like cels in oily 
sauce their tongues met. Chloe did not 
protest.” Yet he scores Ч 
off the sadomasochisti 
ern Christianity 


ne and again 
spects of mod- 


Jules Whitcover’s White Knight (Ran- 
dom House) daims to be an exhaustive 
biography of Spiro T. Agnew. It is 
merely exhausting. Whitcover, an es 
perienced newspaperman and а copi- 
ous quoter, compulsively repeats all the 
controversial statements the Vice-Presi 
dent has ever dreamed up. Once again 
d about “the nattering nabobs of 
sm,” “the Four-H dub [of] the 
hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of 
history,” those demonstrating students 
actually "parasites of passion.” 
A Ише of this goes a long way. Morc 
illu g is the first halLof the book, 
in which Whitcover traces Agnew's ear- 
ly. and astonishingly successful, political 
career. He began as a member of the 
zoning appeals board in suburban Tow- 
son outside Baltimore: a split in the 
local Democratic machine allowed him 
to squeak in as county executiv 
years 1 another D tic split 
made it possible for him to become р 
етот. In that election, he ran 
an outspoken racist whose t 
slogan—"A Man's Home Is His С 
—ашааей whites who favored un 
housing, Agnew ran, improbibly, as а 
liberal and won by about 80,000 votes. It 
wasn't ший a year la blacks 
тіюей nore ghetto, that 
icw's minded 
started to have doubts, In r 
the riot, Agnew invited mod 
leaders to meet. in his office and, while 
TV cameras zoomed in, proceeded to 
lecture them on their $ 
These leaders, he ch: 
by yielding to the 

uling, тіксіне 
down type of leader 
the jungle of Agnew's oratory and Whit- 
covers prose, one gets the impression 


four 


v- 


ст, after 


backers 
ponse to 


integration 


There's nothing worse than wearing 
1972 clothes with 1960 shoes. 


The shoes stick out like sore thumbs. Or, if you prefer, sore toes. The point is, if  AProduct of 
you're going to wear today's clothes, you'd better wear today's shoes MEE 
And as you can see Knockarounds go with the clothes of today. They соте in fabric and UNIROYAL 
leather. In all kinds of styles and colors. Because you come in all kinds of styles and colors. БЫ 


Introducing the 1972 Keds Knockarounds 


PLAYBOY 


36 


A SMALL CAMERA 
SHOULDN'T BE ATOY. 


(BUT IT SHOULD BE AS MUCH FUN!) 


Asmall camera is а е 
“must” for people on 
the move. But most 


selects proper exposures 
for you, without the "set- 
tings-and-adjustments 


are "stripped- ч numbers game" others 
down" versions, can get you into. 
that take fuzzy pic- You just press the 
tures you shamefully button for perfect, 


hide ina deep drawer. 
And many use film cart- 
ridges that themselves are so 
bulky, your pocket can't carry 
enough for a day's supply of pictures. 


clear slides or prints 
everytime, through 

a its sharp Hexanon lens. 
Even flash is auto- 

ub à matic, especially with 
Konica C-35 solves it all. Com- the matching X-14 Electronic Flash 
fortably compact and lightweight, that slips right onto the camera. So 
this 35mm camera automatically get Konica, and stop toying around. 


KONICA С-55. 


Тһе fun camera preferred by the pro's. 
Konica Camera Corp., Woodside, N.Y. 11377. In Canada: Garlick Films Ltd., Toronto. 


Combine Europe 
with a new Mercedes-Benz. 


Mr. Peter Grass] H 
Mercedes-Benz of North America, Inc. 

158 Linwood Plaza, Fort Lee, N.J. 07024 

Please send me the Mercedes-Benz Guide to 1 
| European Delivery. 


This coupon will bring you, 
free, the Mercedes-Benz Guide 
то European Delivery. 

How to order a Mercedes- 1 
Benz here, pick itup there. The 
advantages of touring Europe 
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Plus a full-color brochure, 
factory-delivered prices and a 
work shect to figure costs. 


Name === 


| tic Lars | 


that Agnew has always been what he 
seems today—an opportunist who won't 
hesitate to play white knight to for- 
tress suburbia. Much of his constituency 
lives in Agnew Rochelle, a place where 
u ng. hopes are sinking and 
blacks are pushing to get in. Whitcover 
refers to a “Dump Agnew 
1 ems clear that many white Amer- 
icans will not suffer his passing gladly 
Muriel (The Prime of Miss Jean Bro- 
dic) Spark is a master of the games 
manship school of writing. In her 
work, reality is constantly wicked and 


es are 


movement, 


tweaked. What you sce is what you get 
—but only up to a sardonic turning 
point. 


then the sm ily 


coy- 


. In her new novel, Not to Disturb 
a chamberful of horrible serv- 
ants on а bleak stormy night in Switzer- 
land anticipate the oime passionnel 
death of their Daron and his barones, 
They have already presold their scandal- 
sheet ше ready to deal in 
the movie rights to the story; only the 
deed remains to be done—the 
murders. Meanwhile, they stalk and talk 
ıd unworldly, liter- 
ary and Pinteresque: "Lister 
just. . Lister never disparates, he 
symmctrizes. Lister's got equibalance and 
what's more he pertains." Unfortunately, 
too little pertains to the essential pre- 
requisite of a suspense novel—the pro- 
gressive unfolding of a tale. Nol to 
Disturb seems more like an outline than 
а book. To be sure, Miss Spark's play- 
fully Gothic talent is still much in 
evidence it only testifies in 


interviews, 


actual 


in accents могі 


n ad- 


this 
case to the slightness of her achievement. 


but 


About 25,000,000 citizens between the 
ages of IS and 24 will be cligible to 
vote this November—almost one third of 
the total ballots cast in 1968. The possi- 
bilities signaled by these figures 
among several hopeful signs of an emerg- 
ing "new majority” that Jack Newfield 
and Jell Greenfield believe 
greater measure. of decency 
justice to Americas have-nots 
authors of A Populist Manifesto. (Pri 
are bourgeois radicals (Newfield was an 
aide to Robert Kennedy and Green- 
field's last employer was John Lindsay) 
and if their catalog of institutional ills 
sounds famili; vs not their fault. 
makes exorbitant profits. The 
A.M. А. sears ош Banks steal 
Interlockit directorates chain business 
s as well as consumers, The tix sys- 
tem is socialism for the rich. Agribusiness 
boosts prices. And so on. АЙ are eco 
nomic and political truths that 
become truisms. Who will revive t 
old-time religion of populism and re- 
make the county's politics into a new, 
fertile ficld? Essentially, say the authors, 


are 


flesh. 


AMBER LABEL 


2%» 
BACARDI 
ем» 


SAN ШАМ. 
TI 


5 AWARDED 


(ES m эш, ы sri у сую Lm 


Bacardi party. 


It's the easiest, mixingest party idea ever invented by the swing- for your free Bacardi Party Kit and learn how easy (ond deli- 
ing crowd! All you need is Bacardi rum. (It's the mixoble one be- cious!) it is to use Becardi light rum like gin or vodko, Bacardi 
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mixers os possible ond invite lots of people looking for fun! Send Bacardi 151 for exotic drinks and cookery. Have a ball! 


BACARDI, rum.The mixable one. 


© 1972 BACARDI IMPORTS, INC., BACARDI BLDG., MIAMI, FLA. 33137. RUM BO & 181 PROOF. “BACARDI AND THE BAT DEVICE ARE REGISTERED TBADEMARES, ABD KO ISA TRADEMARK. ALL OF BACARDI а COMPANY LIMITED. 


PLAYBOY 


38 


Find out why: Send 
name and address 
plus 50€ in coin for 
handling to: Christian 


Dior Perfumes Corp., 
Box 2220, Glenbrook 3 Dior's Eau Sauvage 
Sta., Stamford, is the number one 
Conn. 06906, for Î fragrance for men 
a free sample. in France. 


A рлвту? 
Ж, have itar my place! 


Whatever the occasion—a friendly get-together or a serious 
business meeting—The Playboy Club lets you offer your guests 
the incomparable atmosphere and service that have made 
it world famous 
Choose in advance from any of our basic party 
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u'll see why зо many of America's leading corpo- 
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Or use the coupon, 


к= == m кыш == шш тш шш юш mí m кыш 
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Marilyn Smith, National Director oi Sales-Club Division 
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Playboy Clubs are located in Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston*, Chi 
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the working-class whites, blacks, chica- 
nos and young people who formed the 
core of Robert Kennedy’s strength. The 
call is for reform. not revolution, to 
save the system from itself: Break up 
G. M., big banks, big labor, interlockin 

directorates, large landholdings, the tax 


system, utility combines, etc. No surprises 
here. But refreshingly, Меке and 
Greenfield have little use for the New 
Left: “If the Duvalier family declared 
Haiti a ‘people's republic tomorrow and 
replaced pictures of Papa Doc with post 
ers of Ché, Marx and Lenin . . . a com 
mittee of artists, writers and intellectuals 
would form a ‘Hands Off Hait 
асе and write pieces in The 
Review of Books explain 
tonton macoules are т 
milit s 


comm 
New York 
g that the 
ally a people's 


Ted Simon's Grond Prix Year (Cow- 
ard, McCann & Geoghegan) is а pains- 
taking, levelheaded account of a year 
on the Formula I circuits. No aroma of 
necrophi 


here, no elegics. по culogies. 
Although Simon may light an occasional 
candle to a fallen paladin, the deaths are 
taken in stride, as they are in the sport 
itself. The book begins with the advent 
to Grand Prix of a new car, the March, 
from brain-storming session to triumph 
on the tack, Drama and suspense build 
from race to race, beginning with 
Kyalami in South Айса; ten back 
to Europe Jarama, Monte Carlo, Spa, 
Zandvoort, Clermont-Ferrand, Brands 
Hatch, Hockenheim, the Osterveichring, 
Monza; and on to the New World, to 
St. Jovite, Watkins Glen and Mixhuca 
Magdalena, where a stray dog may put 
a driver out of the race. The cours 
admirably described; the races are re- 
counted with felicitous understatement: 
the personalities, such as Mario Andretti 
and Enzo Ferrari, are finely etched. As 
for the cars, they are shown to be queru- 
lous prima donnas, In sum, Grand Prix 
Year is à most intelligent and compre- 


are 


hensive book on a sport vastly more 
complex than many of its fans might 
guess 


"A work shaped the form of a 
mand: says the publisher of William 
Kotawinkle’s Hermes 3000 (Pantheon). 
Mandala? One of those circular, symbol- 
ic patterns? Well, yes, that’s one way 
aracterizing this symbolic novel 
about Queen Catherine of Russia and 
the young soldier she had stationed to 
guard in perpetuity a single field flower, 
and a Saul Bellowish cafeteria with its 
raflish cargo of ambulatory kooks, and а 
hungry Victorian vicar ingesting a big 
chocolate cake baked by a hungry spin- 
ster, and a retired trucking magnate pur- 
suing avatars fore and aft in the halls 
of the Metropolitan Muscum of Art, 
and—what elsc?—oh, yes, Mr. Jorgen, 


©1971 R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Company, Winston-Salem, М.С; 


25 mg."tar; 15 mg. nicotine av. per cigarette, ЕТС Report AUG.71. 


PLAYBOY 


WHEN BINACA'S IN 
BAD BREATH IS OUT. 


Concentrated 


Golden 
Breath 
Sora" 


T . 
паса 


HELPS YOU SAY THE 
NICEST THINGS. 


ESCAPE to 


Residents of this trop 
enjoy ocean beach privile, 


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hauling his hay wagon down Tay Road, 
full of spit and Yeatsian pronounce- 
ments of time past and time to come 
and—who else?—oh, one or two others; 
but read the book, if you want to get 
the whole mandalan picture. Its such 
а book as dreams are made on. Here's 
the way Kouwinkle writes: “In amongst 
the thorns, the Reverend went expertly. 
Wanging a more striking turn of the 
than the 


rose its own yearning for 
sun had accomplished. Like the 
Reverend Cupplewaite longed for direct 
confrontation with the Light, hoped to 
be met on the Tay Road one day and 
thrown out of the saddle of his compla- 
cency and, like the rose, be drunk with 
illumination." Kotzwinkle, in case you 
were wondering, took the title [rom his 
i of lives 
to do with one anoth- 


rose, 


typewriter. He types a de 
that have nothin, 
er, except that they all move outward 
toward a desire to know, a desire to 
connect with the mystery beyond 
pearances. No one will arrive there as a 
result of having read Hermes 3000, but. 
il you stay loose, you may just feel the 
swing of moving in the right direction 


ар- 


Scymour Hersh, who broke the Му 
Lai story, writes in Cover-Up (Random 
House) about the Army's almost success 
ful attempt to keep it under wraps. He 
discloses what he learned from yet an- 
other set of purloined. Pentagon. papers. 
the transcript of the investigating panel 
led by Lieutenant. General William R. 
Peers; that 947 Vietnamese were slaugh 
tered at My Lai, not the 200 or fewer 
that the Defense Department let. the 
nation think was the final toll; that 
there was another massacre, of 90 or so 
people, at а neighboring hamlet, My 
Khe, the same day; that olbccrs stole 
from the files in Vietnam all reports of 
the massacre they could lay their hands 


on; that decent military men, outraged 
by what they had seen, were silenced by 
their superiors, Most of the participants 
in the massacre or the coverup, all 
named by Hersh in dehance of possible 
libel suits, were acquitted by courts 
martial or got only administrative slaps 
on the w And although the 
panel conducted the inquiry with ime 
rity, Hersh points out that it never went 
beyond the personalities involved to ex 
amine the system in which such massa 
cres were possible and such an attempt 
at cover-up was inevitable. 


Peers 


Also noteworthy: ‘Three new collec 
by writes whose names will be 
familiar to PLAYnOY readers, The Histo- 


ry of the Nude in Television ond Other Pieces 
(Outerbridge & Lazard) is Marvin Kit 
n's tome on the tube in its various 
nifestations. If TV can recover from 
Kitman, it can recover from anything. 
The Wind from the Sun (Harcourt Brace 
Jovanovich) brings together a decade of 


Arthur C. Clarke's fiction, confirming his 
notable place in the scifi galaxy. And 
Existential Errands (Little, Brown) contains 
28 wide-ranging, ever-provocative pieces 
done over the years by the nonpareil 
Norman Mailer. 

And for the man who has everything 
but a good memory, Ployboy's Complete 
Book of Porty Jokes (Playboy Press) 
gleaned from one of the magazines 
most popular features, Categorized ac 
cording to subject matter. (The Young 
er Generation, Dating, Marriage, eic.). 


P.C. B. P. J. mounts а 376-page bull's 

сус assault on jour funny bonc. The 

results are strictly for laughs. 
DINING-DRINKING 


Bixby's Warehouse, located at 1211 Con- 
necticut Avenue, N. W., in Washi 
D. C., is unusual in both name and at- 
mosphere and negates the idea that din- 
ing establishments featuring French 
food must be pretentious. The restau- 
rant seats 200 amid eclectic decor that 
of thc 
about it. Antique French tapestries and 
other hangings share wall space with 
poster originals: theater lights pick up 
the rich, dark backgrounds; and a trio 
of huge crystal chandeliers hangs over 
an equally huge rectangular bar in the 
things. Vying for auen- 
анау of friendly young 
college-bred waitresses who eschew aprons 
and whatever suits them. Highly 
experienced they are not, but few pa- 
tons scam to mind. Youth, in fact, both 


шоп, 


has somethin sporting house 


very center of 


tion is an 


wear 


serves and is served at Bixby's; many of 
the regular and qu т midday 
customers are junior executives. who 


seem 10 know one another. Evening din- 
ing by candlelight is more sedate. Music 
from rock to Bach is purveyed 
by a system—S15.000, 
worth of equipment that includes 68 
ceiling-mounted J. B. Lansing speakers 
driven by 800 watts of continuous output 


fabulous sound 


power from four Melntosh amplifiers 
(Needles t0 say, the system is 
used at full volume.) The cuisine 
Bixbys has a ран-Ашетісап accent at 
lunch, with Eggs Benedict and London 
Broil established favorites, but is dis. 
tinctly Gallic at dinner. Specialties then 
iudude Saumon Champagne (salmon 
poached in the bubbly), Grabe en 
Chemise Gralinée (the chef gives you 
the shirt off his crepe skillet here) and 
Steak Diane Flambé. Flaming desserts 
are also a specialty. (Try Ше dramati 
cally prepared Omelette Norvegienne— 

sort of super Baked Alaska dor two.) 
"The wine list is unbalanced in spots but 
rates а plus for offering а doren-odd 
selections at fow 
Eating at Bixby's is à la carte and mod. 
iv 


rarely 


to five dollars a boule. 


. Luncheon entrees 


erately exper 


GOLLY-WINKIES, CATHY... SENSATIONAL IDEA, ANNIE! 
РМ GIVING IT EVERYONE LOVES 
TO EVERYBODY! AGIFT OF PLAYBOY ... 


Lat 


Gift-givers who know their guys as well as Annie Fanny and lovely 
Playmate Cathy Rowland know that a subscription to PLAYBOY makes 
one of the mostsurprising and welcome gifts on any occasion. 
He'll appreciate PLAYBOY for Father's Day, graduation, birthday, 
anniversary or promotion time. And the cost? 

Only $10 to buy pleasure he'll thank you for all year. 


GIVE PLEASURE 
GIVE PLAYBOY 


О Send my gift card signed “trom 

[O Send unsigned gilt card to me 
OS____enciosed. [] Bill me later. 
П Enter or [ renew my subscription. 

07 Charge to my Playboy Club Credit Key по. 


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919 N. Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611 


$10 for first one-year gift (save $3.00*) 
$8 for each additional one-year gift (save $5.00") 


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Name. A My name. 

(please print) (please print) 
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"based on current newsstand single-copy prices. Enter additional gift subscriptions on separate sheet. 7150 


PLAYBOY 


42 


SV eet 
dreams 


The beautiful dreamer in 
your life will be delighted 
with this red-and-white 
confection—the playmate 
candy-striped nightshirt 
and cap. Made of cuddle- 
soft cotton flannel, the cap 
and minishirt adorned with 
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keep her toasty warm on 
the coldest nights. A great 
gift idea because one size 
fits your favorite sleepy- 
time gals. MM20101 $4.95. 
Please use order number 
and add 50¢ for handling. 


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name? No C.O.D. orders; please 
send check or money order to: 
Playboy Products, Playboy 
Building, 919 М. Michigan Ave., 


Chicago, Illinois S061. 5 
Playboy Club credit keyholders 
may charge their purchase. 


start at $2.55 and stop at $3.95. except 
for steak. At dinner, the range із from 
54.75 to 58.50. A 15-percent optional 
gratuity charge is added to the bill to 
c you of the bother of tipping. 
There is no charge for the pleasant, 
hang-loose atmosphere. Bixby's Ware- 
house is open from 11:30 Ам. to mid- 
night Monday through Thursday. 11:30 
to 2 AM. Friday, 6 PM. to 2 лм 
rations 
re essential for both lunch. and. dinner 
(202-659-1211). All major credit cards are 
accepted. 


MOVIES 


Producer John Foreman, a business 
ier of Paul Newman's, struck it 
lucky at the box office by teaming New- 
n with Robert Redford in Butch 
cassidy and (he Sundance Kid. So, 
naturally, he hats gone on to costar New- 

n with Lec Marvin in Pocket Money 
—only the movie just doesn’t jell. Ther 
lots of rickytick music on the so 


d 


track to set the tone for a contemporary 
Western about two bumbling born 
d scenarist Terry Malick has 


losers, а 
supplied reams of whimsical dialog. Un- 
fortunately, director Stuart (Cool Hand 
Luke) Rosenberg shows little aptitude 
for guiding actors through anythi 
frolicsome and reduces his two рока 
мау to pla сс 
stead of pla pars for real. 
Because he is permitted to be himself — 
an established celebrity on location with 
a movie that might well have been fun 
to make—M comes off the better of 
the two. Newman looks less comfortable 
and less convincing as an inept, hi 
go-lucky cowpoke who travels dow 
Mexico to buy 250 steers for а тойсо, 
lands in jail and ultimately gets cheated 
out of his wages. Money's principal asset 
s contributed by director of photogra- 
lo Kovacs, who filmed Easy 
Rider and Five Easy Pieces amd has 
the knack of rediscovering every locale 
with freshness and vigor. Here, his eye- 
grabbing excursions tike oll from the 
border town of Nogales, Mexico, and are 
soon outasight. 


ing up to the aud 


phy 


stately counny home in 
mury England, the 
er and the governess are up to no good 
love-hate for cach other finds 
expression in sadomasochistic games; she 
begun to rather fancy his nightly 
sions of her diamber—when he kash- 
es her to the bedposts, leaving her nude, 
bruised and used. This might be permis- 
sible for consenting adults, but it puts 
сүй thoughts imo the heals of two 
impressionable youngsters. If the plot of 
The Nighteomers has a fami r ring, it's 
Michael. Hastings bor- 
icters from Henry 


garden- 


because scena 
rowed the central ch 


conjwing up a kind of prelude 
t chilling classic The Turn of 
the Screw. The demon-possessed children 
(delily played here by Verna Harvey 
and Christopher Ellis) were, of course, 
wented by James. Author Н 
merely resurrects the mysterious servant 
couple, the late Miss Jessel and Master 
Peter Quint, whose baleful influence 
over the orphaned boy and girl left in 
their charge will not yield even to death 


itself, Both characters are very much 
пе span covered by 
ad producer director 
sely entrusts the co- 
id 


alive du 


s the 
ightcomers, 
Michael Winner wi 
starring roles to Marlon. Brando 
Stephanie Beacham, the latter a boun 
ful actress whose high-butioned British 
reserve seems likely ас any moment to 
pop under pressure. Brando as Quint. а 
lusty Trish scoundrel with а tinge of 
madness in his blood, is totally in charge 
from first to . and his he 
nce lends solidity to 
ously spellbinding с 
Victorian gothic terror. 


imple of 


Tokyo Story м 1953 by the 
Іше Yasujiro Ozu, whose genius has nev- 
er attained full recognition outside his 
native Japan. Oru's niche in obscurity is 
juisitely carved, but he remains in 
it for obvious reasons: His profound 
themes are woven through. deceptively 
simple portrayals of Japanese family life 
and his film style is so austere that he 
makes the coolest European directors 
even Antonioni. look flashy by compari 
son. The hallmark of Ozu's work is his 
stubborn habit of filming every scene 
from the same angle—roughly an angle 
of vision corresponding to that of some- 
body seated on а falami mat. From this 
contemplarive point of view, Ozu sees 
all—indoors, outdoors and into the 
heart of hum 
begins at a halting pace to tell about the 
uneventful holiday of an elderly couple 
ge to visit 
grown-up children in the city. The 
the married son and a 
ager son who works for the railway 
ve little time or patience for mamasan 
and рарамін but ty in а desultory Гам 
ion to keep them entertained. On the 
tip back home, the old lady (pl 

acy by Chiy 


perience. Tokyo Story 


е: 


ed 


п reluctantly arrive to pay their 
specs. Nothing much happens or 
needs to. Relationships unfold in a зе 
ries of scenes crafted with art and. puri 
ty, as Ozu reveals the essentia 
existence, the blind natu 

tes parents from children, man from 
himself, "Isn't. life disappointing?" asks 
a young unmarried daughter, moved to 
tears by the cruelty, greed and selfishness 
оГ her older brothers and sisters in the 
first hours after the funeral. "Yes, it is^ 


last 


isol 


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PLAYBOY 


44 


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replies her widowed sistern-law, smiling 
a stoic smile that conveys in an instant 
the kind of overwhelming vision that 
many lesser film makers work a lifetime 
to achieve. For Western. audiences will- 
ing to surrender 10 Ozu's gentle mastery, 
the long-delayed Tokyo Story should be 
a revelation. 


Still under 50, freshman director 
Douglas Trumbull is a former special- 
effects man who worked for three years 
creating those mind-bending corridors of 
light for the spectacular climax 10 Stan- 
ley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. For 
his own first feature, Silent Running, 
Trumbull brings off another visual tri 
umph in the context of a rather sopo- 
rific drama about ecology, set 10 music 
sung by Joan Baez, Bruce Dern, vir 
tually alone on the screen throughout 
the latter. hall of the film, plays a dedi- 
cated botanist who has been orbiting 
through outer space for eight yeas 
while he painstakingly tends an Eden- 
like forest inside a geodesic dome. On 
the ravaged planet Eavth, it is unde 
stood. poverty and disease have been 
banished—along with all the marvels of 
nature. When the etrth-bound bureauc- 
гасу terminates the reforestation pro- 
gram, the botanist kills his indifferent 
shipmates and pirates the space station. 
Accompanied only by а pair of subtly 
program 
Dewey. he learns that man needs his 
fellow men as much as he needs fresh 
greenery. It is no fault of Dern’s intense 
performance in a difficult role that the 
movie occasionally becomes monoto- 
nous; one man aboard a silent space 


ned robots named Huey and 


psule hardly offers maximum possil 
ties for dramatic conflict. even when he 
controls two anthropomorphic robots 
ed, oddly enough. by т 
well concealed behind 
ades of dials and switch- 
cs) who play poker with him and follow 
him like faithful dogs. Though Trumbull 
misses the mark here, this cyc-filling film 
is nonetheless aglow with promise of 
bi fi epics to come. 


ger and better sc 


Gone, gone are the days when а cow- 
boy hero would sooner nuzzle up to his 
horse than kiss a purty gal—witness the 
opening scene of The Honkers, in which 
James Coburn high-tails it out of a house 
trailer with his trousers, boots and hat 
in hand, barely escaping а load of buck- 
shot fired by the wd of the 
blonde he’s left behind. A honker can be 
either an ornery bull or а lady of ques- 
tionable virtue, according to the lingo 
of modern«lay rodeo stars, and Coburn 
clearly prefers the laner—such local 
auna as Joan Huntington, playing the 
bedworthy blonde, or Anne Archer, as а 
ich, spoiled Indian girl without rescrva- 
tions. Portraying the kind of drifter who 
is adored by barm 


normal relationship with his wile (Lois 
Nettleton), son (Ted Eccles) пог long- 
sullaing companion (Slim Pickens, giv- 
ing one of his crustiest performances as 
an old rodeo clown), Coburn sheds the 
vencer of a sccoud-suing James Bond 
and gets into the hide of a somewhat 
aging hell raiser on an ego trip to no 
where. Filmed in and around Carlsbad. 
New Mexico—with Larry Mahan and 
other rodeo performers playing them- 
selves with riproaring authenticity— 
The Honkers is the kind of conven- 
tional drama that turns most critics off 
but wins a reponse [rom audici 
Co-author and director Steve Шил. him- 
self a movie actor, and his script collabo- 
rator, Stephen Lodge. have invested 
their first joint eflort with plenty of 
warmth, behind-the-scenes color and the 
do-or-die enthusiasm that is so olen 
lacking in old experienced hands. 


es. 


Just for openers, a feature-length ani 
mated cartoon titled Fritz the Car has а 
Таас character who livens up 
break from his construction job by wi 
ating on а passer-by in the street be- 
low. That more or less synthesizes the 
th a graphically realistic 
parody of both porno flicks and Tom 
т Jerry, freely from Robert 
Crumb’s unde comic strip by 
SL-yearold writer-divector Ralph Bakshi 
(whose previous credits include the de 
velopment of Deputy Dog). Bakshi not 
only mocks the saccharine traditions of 
Disneyland but also raises his leg to the 
hypocrisy and sell-delusion of the Sixties. 
His comicstrip Fritz is а pseudohip cat 
hose experi 


s with sex, drugs and 
revolution just a new fashion in 
dilettantism, Sunounded by adorable 
litle sex kittens “easily impressed by 
spades,” Fritz makes his way from an 
st Village orgy (“You ever make it 
with an aardvark?” asks one freaky par- 
ticipant) to a farout trip 
Would-be revolutionaries motivate 
ly by their own neurotic арр 
sadism and destruction. FritZs ve 
imo the black world are depicied 
with comparable toughness—and though 
Bakshi casually characterizes policemen 
as amiable but doltish pigs. he avoids 
nearly all the clichés exploited by movie: 
makers who try too hard to think young, 
Fritz the Cat isa snarling satire tha 
1 up in anyon 


with some 
"ge 


es 


stub- 


у refuses to cu slap 


Dealing: Or the Berkeley-to-Boston Forty- 
Brick Lost-Bag Blues squanders most of its 
inventiveness in that hip tide. What fol. 
lows the credits is another routine youth 
movie, fashionably amoral and sentimen- 
talized in the prescribed manner that 
Fritz the Cat exposes. Producer Edward R. 
Pressman and writer-director Paul Wil 


liams, the youngish team behind The 
Revolutionary and Ont of It, evolved 
Dealing from the novel by Michacl 


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Playboy Club credit, 
keyholders may charge. 


46 


Douglas (a pseudonym for authors Mi 
chael and Douglas Crichton) first serial 
ized in PLAYBOY. A cool graduate student 
ward Law School gets into the 
marijuana wade by picking up a ship- 
ment of grass in San Francisco. He then 
falls in with a sexy girl, a corrupt Boston 
detective and а bunch of no-nonsense 
Майа types, and the movie becomes little 
more than a routine topical melodrama 
drummed up out of last year's headlines 
about drugs on campus. Heading а com 
petent but uninspired cast, Robert F 
Lyons, as Ше student dealer, and Barbara 
Hershey (with a figure to match her per- 
ennially flashing smile), as his swingy ac 
complice, project cool detachment to such 
a degree that they aren't very interesting 
to watch, 


‘There is almost nothing amiss in the 
way Bartleby is produced, directed and 
performed, yet all the goddamn perfec- 
tion begins to get on one’s nerves after 
a while. It’s so boringly full of British 
erve, this anemic little tragicomedy 
dapted in the very best taste by direc 
tor and coproducer Anthony Friedman 
from a story by Herman Melville) about 
a pitifully shy clerk in an accounting 
firm, who completely withdraws from 
the pressures of contemporary life, but 
not until he has seriously disturbed. the 
complacency of his employer. The acı 
ing is impeccable throughout, and could 
hardly be otherwise, since Britain's Paul 
Scofield—who plays the boss—can distil 
а liletime of repressed impulses into onc 
sidelong glance. Opposite him, as the 
miserable clerk, John McEnery delivers 
а performan k contrast to his 
flashy Mercutio in Franco Zeffrelli's 
Romeo and Juliet. Bartleby's gimmick is 
that the new man in the office simply de- 


clines, with perfect politeness and unim- 
peachable dignity, to perform certain 
I'd prefer mot to go over 


chores. 
accounts," says he, which rath upts 
the usual company routine uli- 
mately leads to more serious problems. 
We never lcam, though, what makes 
poor Bartleby run, nor why he decides 
to choose d ther than rejection. 
Such problems may be given duc weight 
in the resonant pro: Melville short 
story. On film, they add up to litle 
more than a case of aesthetic constipa- 
tion, suffered with a stiff upper lip. 
Outbeek's scene-stealing attraction is the 
Australian bush country, where violent 
men pass their time hunting, gambling 
zzling cold beer. In the film's most 
scene, four drunken Aussies 
to a rattletrap car at night and go 
ing across the desert to hunt kang 
Yoo—great sport, particularly when 
hunter engages one of the trusting cr 
tures in hand-to-paw combat and slits its 
troat. The story woven through such 
bloody bits of local color concerns a 
male schoolteacher who leav 


с 


а whistle 


stop in the wilderness to spend his 
Christmas holidays in Sydney but never 
gets beyond а wide-open modern mining 
town that makes Dodge City look tame. 

an Jones's screenplay, directed by Ted 
Kochel, offers no satisfactory motiv 
tion for the teacher's swift decline into 
debauchery and brutality, though young 
Gary Bond—a British theater and TY 
actor who bears a striking resemblance 
to Peter O'Toole—brings a strong pres- 
ence to the role, even against formidable 
competition from Donald Pleasence, who 
is up to some of his dandiest tricks as the 
familiar drunken doctor found in every 
godforsaken pesthole from darkest Africa 
to Angkor Wat. As drama, Outback 
works ошу in fits and starts. As а socio 
logical study of life in the bush, this 
explosion of Christmas spirit in the 
simmering town of Bundayabba may 
prove a considerable setback to Aus- 

ian tourism. 


Few moviegoers, unfortunately, will 
have an opportunity to see Wintersoldier, a 

ring documentary th shown 
ly this year im a special film makers’ 
series at Manhattan's Whitney Museum 
of American Art. Put together under the 
aegis of Vietnam Veterans Against the 
War, Wintersoldier is a passionate ау 
of protest. taken from the actual testi 
mony of former American soldiers at the 
Winter Soldier Investigation in Detroit 
in January and February, 1971. After the 
Calley trial, a group of penitent Gls 
voluntarily appeared to confess the atroci- 
ies they had committed. during. service 
1 Vietnam: maiming, burning, rape. 
throwing suspected Viet Cong out of 
helicopters, beheading others, shooting 
ns in the back. “You'd 
bring back ears... whoever got the most 
ars got the most beers." testifies one re- 
turned veteran in а voice choked with 
shame. What makes Wmtersoldier un 
commonly powerful is that the bearded. 
conirite, awakened young Americans 
who testify have so little in common with 
their counterparts from earlier wars— 
former Nazi henchmen, for example, 
who almost invariably pointed an accu 
ing finger at some higher authority or 
society a» a whole, These soldiers never 
try to cop out, and their. painful honesty 
may be the only hopeful sign in the hor 
ror stories told here. 


t was 


innocent civili 


Give a camera to French. cinematogri 
pher Raoul Coutard, send him to Isracl 
10 saturate some film with local color, 

ad what does it get you? This time 
around, it gets you an unthril 
litical thriller called The Jerusalem 
Evidently assuming that audiences need 
а boy-next-door hero with whom they 
ап identify, the movie focuses on 
young archacology major from Yale 
(Bruce Davison, of Last Summer and 
Willard), who just happens to have 
been the classmate of а ranki 


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= 


terrori: 


When a group of idealistic 
university leaders enlists the Yalie to ar- 
рс secret peace talks with his Arab 
friend, a good deal of diplomatic in- 
trigue and shoot-em-up excitement fol- 
low—though how these kids propose to 
improve the prospects for peace in the 
Middle East is the writer's own secret 
Director John Flynn works 
real style, but keeps Nicol Wil 
Donald Pleasence, beautiful Daria (Za- 
briskie Point) Halprin and a slew of na- 
tive performers thrashing around on the 
screen as if their mindless melodramatics 
mattered. 


French ski champion Jean-Claude Killy 
makes his debut as an actor in Snow Job, 
crime comedy that begins at the 
le of a spectacular Alp—and 


some idler inquires of Је 
who invariably answers such 
questions by strapping on his staves and 
heading for the nearest lift, In. powdery 


bert. usually) or up to his h 
in schemes to snatch the cash receipts of 
а ёс chic winter resort, he shows the 
kind of form that one expects on the 
nnes’ slopes. To be fair, though, 
the dialog is a tangle of lines that might 
cause even the most seasoned trouper to 
That outrageous ham Vittorio 
mounts a truly heroic ac 
effort to upstage the Alps, Killy and а 
fleet of snowmobiles. He almost succeeds. 

A blitzkrieg of shrewd publicity by 
old producer-director Scan Cui 


ningham suggests that Together stakes 
out new ground for sexploitation mov- 


ies. Cunningham's primordi: 
phic potboiler concentrates on the 
1 aspects of love—even in a graphic 
io sequence featuring a beautiful 
k girl and her handsomely endowed 
d. After noting, in pseudo-docu 
ary fashion, the amoral views of 
торам young swingers who measure 
the nüty rather than the q 
of their sexual contacts. (“It’s like 
handsh: 
us away to a nonexistent retreat 
where beautiful people pair off under a 
doctor's supervision, learning how to be- 
come lovers and friends. Activities at the 
institute include la-di-da games such as 
garound-arosy and leapfrog as well 
as lovemaking. Any amorous viewers 
who want to rush right out to enroll for 
treatment will find there's no such place 
except in the fantasies of the film mak- 
es. Housewives, clergymen and sun 
dry squares who had never seen a skin 
flick were invited to free previews of 
Together, which aningham care- 
fully booked as a single feature only 
in first-class theaters, whenever possi- 
ble as а followup attraction to Carnal 


Knowledge. Just testing his marke 
10 speak. Result: Throughout New York 
and New England, Together grossed s 
eral million dollars in several weeks and 
stands to recoup its initial $100,000 in- 
vestment а hundred times over. That's 
what we call balling all the way to the 
bank 
Smic, Smac, Smoc are the nicknames 
chosen for themselves by three shipyard 
workers in La Ciotat, a French port 
on the Mediterranean. Charles Gerard, 
Jean Collomb and Amidou play the 
ers, a wearisome lot whose major 
concerns у, high taxes, whores 
and wine. When one of the trio (Ami- 
dow) marries a bakery clerk (played by 
Catherine Allegret, a ringer for momma 
Simone Signore), the wedding party 
steals a car roars for а wild 
weekend : ve wanted 10 
tive plea to the 
gendarmes when the hour of reckoning 
comes, just before they burst gaily into 
song—a title song composed by French 
composer Francis Lai, who also appears 
everywhere in Smic, Smac, Smoc as а 
blind accordionist, brought along lor 
the ride. At one point, in fact, Lai sits 
outside a sidewalk café reprising tlic 
theme music from A Man and а Wom 
an, an earlier, far-more-filling fruit of 
his collabora s rector- 
photographer Claude Lelouch. Lelouch 
aflects a pretentiously primitive style for 
Smic, Smac, Smoc, which begins Godard- 
ishly with spoki boasting t 
‘To capture the fleeting moment, we 
shot the film " To an 
observer familiar with the slick, skillful, 
sometimes disarming banality that is the 
of Lelouch’s work, they are 
ight days wasted on a condescending 
home movi d 
In ihe original Caberet, Broadway's 
musical version of a play based on 
Christopher Isherwood's Berlin storie 
the weakest element was the writer-hero 
—an Englishman, not unlike Isherwood 
himself, abroad in prewar Germany. On 
film, Cabaret has undergone a few plot 
changes, picked up some four-lett 
words and gained a proper hero in 
Michael York, an offheathandsome Bi 
ish actor whose quiet authority and 
conviction create order in the midst of 
chaos. The chaos is provided by director 
choreographer Bob Fosse, a fair-haired 
boy on Broadway but much less sure of 
himself as a film maker, though he docs 
know how to mount a number with 
lingersnapping rhythm and class. What 
Fosse doesn't know, he glosses over with 
zle showmanship, ofttimes re- 
sorting to gimmicks that emphasize 
Cabaret’s essential emptiness as a semi- 
ma about the rise of Nazism 
ermany. Joel Grey, while brilliantly 
sing his original role as cpicenc 
awdry night spot, is pushed 


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etty hard to remind the audience that. 
his act symbolizes the decadence of a 
whole society. The debatable validity of 
this connection between policy makers 
and the creeps on tap at the Kit Kat 
Klub fails to deter Fosse, who keeps 
cutting away from several engaging mu- 
al numbers (by John Kander and Fred 
Ebb, in mild imitation of Kurt Weill) 
to editovialize about storm troopers, 
anti-Semitism and Hitler Youth. Amid 
the hoopla, York comes close to stealing 
y пагу a mote but 
n for his decency. 
al hangups 
kinky American canary who 
‘ound a room across the hall. Play- 
ing Sally Bowles, the would-be film star 
and perennial pi 
works enormously 
Liza is still ng the colle 
of showbiz Svengalis to sell her 
sonable le of her mother, | 
Garland. She looks happiest when she 
ignores the Nazis and stops the music to 
concentrate on her relationships with the 
bisexual boy next door (York). а Ge 


nobleman (Helmut Griem) and a Jewish 
heiress (d ngly played by Mari 


Berenson, featured in а special pictoria 
in Praynoy's October 1971 issue). 


RECORDINGS 


If Maurice Ravel. could ge it 
for orchestra, why can't Emerson, Lake 
& Palmer 
ог an Exhibition (Cotillion) for their own 
nefarious, culture-puncturing, rock^n'- 
roll purposes? OF course they can, and 
they did. and the result is pretty inte 
esting, if not always musical. This live 
recording, technically excellent. shows 
E, L. & P. to be one of the most pro 
ficient rock bands in the world. They've 
captured. the impressionistic spirit of 
parts of Moussorgsky's suite, as in The 
Hut of Baba Yaga, Adel their 
own elsewh in the great bass 


feedback blasts of The Gnome and at 
the beginning of Blues Variation, ‘The 
last is the best thing on the record. 


The worst is Nutrocker, apparently an 
encore based on—you guessed it—and 
hammered out on Keith 
deliberately outoftune ele 
e is some мей 


с remaissance rustic, 
tunelul gusher who 
gives no indication of ever running dry 
Western Man (Atlantic), whose title ode is 
a Puckishly ic commentary on genus 
Homo sapiens, is made up of nine AN 

son numbers, including a couple of in 
strumentals, plus Ellington's Do Nothing 
Till You Hear from Me and a countryish 
bit of funk, If You've Got the Money 


[Dont waste time with less powerful 
stylers,get Schick's Styling Dryer] 
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This guy starts with a lot of wet 
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Now, if you have a low-power 
styler, what happens? 

If you're in a hurry, your hair 
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And, even if you have the time, 
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In tests by two of Europe's leading motófmagazines, steel-belted 


1969: Auto Motor und Sport Magazine 


(Steel) 


1970: Auto Motor und Sport Magazine 


(Steel) 


Michelin XAS 
Phoenix Sen. 


(Steel) 


(Fabric) 


Pirelli CN 36 
Michelin zX 


(Steel) 
(Steel) 


Metzeler Monza (Fabric) 


Kleber V 10 (Fabric) 


Fulda P 23 


(Fabric) 


These tests included: handling on curves, steering exact- 
ness on a zig-zag slalom course, braking distance and 
behavior, acceleration and skid resistance on a wet circu- 
lar track, comfort and wear. [n addition, Auto Motor und 


Although radial tires are big news in the U.S. to- 
day, they have been widely used in Europe—and 
increasingly preferred—for the past fifteen years. 

To a European motorist, the question today is not 
whether to get a radial, but what kind of a radial to get. 

o help answer that question, two of Europe's 


leading motoring magazines— ‘Auto Motor und 
Sport" and “Ашо Zeitung"— conducted exhaustive 
track tests of the most famous European radial tires. 
(Test criteria are described above.) 

The results show that steel-belted radials as a 
group received higher overall ratings than fabric- 
belted radials, winning both first and second places 


royal 180 steel-belted radial —which won first place 


Semperit 
Dunlop SP 68 (Fabric) 


Sport included a test for tire noise in "69, winter suit- 


(Fabric) 


in 1969, 1970 and 1971. They did not, of course, win 
in every test category. 

The steel-belted radial tires have a built-in advan- 
tage which was not included in these tests—substan- 
tially greater protection against cuts and punctures— 
because the belts under the tread are made of steel 
wire. (Cuts are the major cause of tire failure, by 
the way.) 


Weare pleased to be able to tell you that the Uni- 


eradials. 


radial tires received higher overall ratings than fabric-belted radials. 


1971: Auto Motor und Sport Magazine 


1971: Auto Zeitung Magazine 


Metzeler Monza (Steel) 157 | Uniroyal 180 (Steel) 
Conti TS 771 (Steel) 2% | Michelin zX (Steel) 
Uniroyal180 (Steel) 3% | Pirelli CF 67 (Fabric) 
Phoenix Sen. (Fabric) 4™ | Conti TS 771 (Steel) 
Fulda P 25 Rib (Fabric) 5" | Kleber V 10 (Fabric) 
Goodyear G800 (Fabric) 6™ | Conti TT 714 (Fabric) 
ability in '70 and aquaplaning tendency in '71. бт" Fulda P 25 Rib (Fabric) 
Il in thi t of fe f the abo i f test: TH A 
eu ud caes: |B" | Dunlop Spi Th E 
f the popular Ei 5 z E 
x Traditions Uhiroyelits now making a steel-belted gr Phoenix P110Ti (Fabric) 
maa Ce Hessen for TURPE саге celled 
t i ti ы is tire i. і тн 1 5 
inthe Unite шы EEE DEINE produca 10™| Bridgestone (Fabric) 
thi i beginning to off: teel- 
belted radial But bear in ind hat thestecleked | 10™ | Metzeler Monza (Steel) 
radial is атое denn Cs to mee e steel 
i i t terial t ith. TH А 
у Uniroyal has made ‘more than 20 milion steel- | 127 | Metzeler Monza (Fabric) 
belted radi: the t12 , and Іс hi 
to make them propery. 1 13™| Goodyear G800 (Fabric) 
In fact, there are only two tire companies in the 
world that have this much experience in making 
steel-belted radials—Michelin and Uniroyal. belted radial, you can bet your boots he’s going to let 


When you go to buy а steel-belted radial, 
don't let them sell you just a radial tire or a 
steel-belted tire. It’s not the same thing. 


Here is how to tell what you're getting. If the 
dealer tells you it’s a “radial tire", you can be pretty 
sure it's a fabric-belted radial. If he tells you it's a 
“steel tire," the chances are it's a steel- 
belted bias construction. (That is, a con- 
ventional tire, without the performance 
advantages of a radial.) If it’s а steel- 


UNIRDYAL 


you know it! 

Would you like to know the name of a dealer in 
your locality where you can get Uniroyal steel-belted 
radials? Telephone (800)-243-6000 anytime, free of 
charge. In Connecticut, call 1-(800)-882-6500. 

Would you like to get a complete and unabridged 
English translation of the reports of all four of the 
radial tire tests described above? Send 25c to Dept. 
GP, Uniroyal, Oxford, Connecticut 
06749. When you’re finished reading this 
series of test reports, you’ll know what to 
look for in radial tires. 


@ | 


€ Uniroyal 


PLAYBOY 


Brut for Men. 


If you have 
any doubts 
about yourself, 
try 
something else. 


After shave, ofter shower, ofter anything. 
Brut by Fobergé. 


(I've Got the Time). Allison accompanies 
his vocals on piano and electric piano and 
is assisted by Chuck Rainey on electric 
bass and Billy Cobham on drums. An orig- 
inal is young man Mose. 

For some time, Linda Ronstadt has 
been building her own coterie of fans. 
She is not only one fine-looking young 
lady, who scorns bras and shoes, but she 
can sing what is basically country-and- 
folk music in a clear, controlled voice 
jov. Capitol Records is giving 

push with Linda Ronstadt, ап 
album as good as anything she’s done. 
‘The disc contains а nice variety of mate- 
anging from the Guthrie-Ledbetter- 
Lomax Ramblin’ Round to Neil Young's 
Birds. But Rescue Me, with its infec- 
tious rock-a-billy style, should turn every- 
one on. 


In an industry that thrives on the 
second-rate, Atlantic Records maintain 
position at the top of the rock he 
‘Two exceptional new releases show whs 
1. А. Getaway (Atco) features 
Hill's lead gui їй voc 
ridges bass and John Barbar 
with a number of all-star musici: 


ting in: Dr. John, Booker T. Jones, 
Sneaky Pete,” Leon Russell, among 
others. This is mainstream rock with 


power and bite, by men who have all 
been on the scene for some time, who 
have played together in various comb 
nations but who have never been as 
favorably recorded as they аге here. 
Off the Shelf (Atlantic) is a disc by two 
relative newcomers, John Batdorf and 
Mark Rodney, consorting with two of 
the above gentlemen, Ethridge and 
Barbata. The musicianship is excellent 
throughout, the tunes—all written. by 
atdori—eelectic and engaging. The al- 
bum demonstrates the Atlantic flair for 
using experienced personnel to help 
launch new talent. Of course, with a 
group cognomen such as Batdorf & Rod 
ney, they may not need much help. 


Side one of Gary Burton's Alone at 
Last (Atl 5 ‘corded at the 
Montreux Jazz Festival last year, side 
two in a New York studi 
ence 
solo n New York he was 
able to dub in piano, cleciric piano and 
n over the vibes, Whatever the mul- 
tiple, however, it's all Burton and all 
spectacular—from the opener, Keith Ja 

тен Moonchild {In Your Quict Place, 
to the closing Jobim opus, Chega de Sau- 
dade. A tour de force of considerable 
dimension. 


Jim Seals and Dash Crofts have 
ated а very listenable, unpressured. al- 
bum in Year of Sunday (Warner Bros.), 
the kind of recording that sometimes 
gets overlooked, You might well overlook 


the title tune, with its bland profes- 
sions of Bahaism, but that and every- 
thing else is well played and sung. High 
on a Mountain is a good jazzinflected 
samba with fascinating key changes, and 
Sudan Village develops some elfective 
neo-African rhythms. 

Arturo Benedetti Michelangcl 
lavishly talented and eccentric It 
pianist whose penchant for canceling con- 
certs is equaled only by his reluctance to 
approve recordings. Fortunately, a few 
diss do manage to meet his require- 
ments. The latest, on which he performs 
Debussy's !meges and Children’s 
Suite (Deutsche Grammophon), provides 
а splendid example of the man's uniq 
command of piano sonorities Miche 
angeli can coax ап infinitude of plan 
gent sounds from the instrument, and 
Debussys atmospheric pieces are ideal 
vehicles for his tonal wizardry, Vladimir 
Horowitz is another diffident public 
performer who makes occasional vi 


Corner 


release. Horowitz Plays Chopin (Columbia). 
situates the veteran virtuoso in obvious- 
ly congenial territory. Though the col- 
lection accents elegance and refinement 
rather than crashing bravura, Horowitz 
concludes with a breath-taking rcudi- 
tion of the 4-Flat Polonaise lest we be 
in any doubt that he can still perform 
paralleled thrust and agility. 
nally, from that supremely nondifhdent 
octogenarian, Artur Rubinstein, there is 
а treasurable miscellany of The Brahms 1 
Love (RCA). It is a safe bet that no living 
pianist can approach Rubinstein's warmth 
and wisdom in this tenderly rhapsodic 
music. 


According to the liner notes, Jim 
Sullivan (Playboy Records) has sung and 
played guitar "in every beach bar from 
Acapulco to Big Sur" So he's been 
around a while, and it shows in the casy, 
comfortable way he handles a song. Hc 
wrote almost everything on the album 
and it comes out as а pleasant mix of 
styles: laid-back pop-folk on Amos. a 
wry tribute to a sideman; wah-wah 
Memphis on Tom Cat, а real prowler: 
and Twenties jazz band on Sandman, 
a song of a backdoor man. Sullivan 
seems most at home when it's mainly 
he and his guitar; but he has turned 
out an album here, in the real sense of 
the word. 


Captain Beefheart's particular kind of 
rock madness may be all blabber "n" 
smoke, as one of his titles has it, but in 
small doses, it's a fine tonic, The Spotlight 
Kid (Reprise) opens with this guttural 
frogcroak of a voice imtoning, “The 
moon was ah drip on ah dark hood | 'N 
they were drivin’ around ‘n’ around 
Vital Willy tol’ Wccpin' Milly / I'm 
gonna booglarize you, baby /. . . If 


r 


ПЕЛ | 


eb 


A 
|. Kean put you 
oüt front. 
Without setting 
you back. 


An authentic sports car doesn't have 
1o have a classy price tag. 
Take the MG Midget. Of all the proven 
winners in national SCCA sports 
car racing, the Midget's the one with 
the lowest price tag 
You take to the road with features 
like a racing-type 4-speed 
gearbox anda track-proven 1275 c.c. 
twin-carb engine that delivers 
performance and economy. 
Test-drive the MG Midget '72 
today. You'll like its comforts 
and conveniences. But, more 
important, you'll like the fact it's a 
à competition-bred car that runs in 
the money, not into money. 
For the name of your nearest 
Austin MG dealer and for 
information about overseas delivery, 
dial (800) 631-1972 except 
in New Jersey where the number is 
(800) 962-2803. Calls are toll-free. 


BRITISH LEYLAND MOTORS INC., LEONIA, N- J. 07605 


PLAYBOY 


56 


Now! Exotic Bay Rum fragrance 
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It's like taking your face on 
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Playboy's Cuff Links and Tie 
Tack—handsome accessories 
in black on gleaming rhodium 
with debonair Rabbit. The 
set, JY100, $9; Cuff Links, 
1Ү102, $6; Tie Tack, JY101, 
$3.50. Please order by prod- 
uct number and add 50¢ for 
handling. 


Shall we send a gift card in your name? 
Please send check or money order t 
Playboy Products, Department |Ү010 
Playboy Building. 919 N. Michigan Ave., 
Chicago, Ш. 60611. Playboy Club credit 
keyholders may charge to their Key-Cards. 


I can find ah place t park my machine,” 

nd so on through tunes such as the 
title tune and a. nice blues called Grow 
Fins. Accompanied by the likes of Zoot 
Hom Rollo (on glassfinger and steel- 
appendage guitar), Ed Marimba and 
Winged Eel Fingerling, the Captain’ 
music speaks to the frog that lurks in 
all of us. 


The title Yusef Lateef / The Gentle 
Giant (/ 
teef 
with sensitivi and a com- 
poser of growing stature. He moves from 
flute to bamboo flute to pneumatic flute 
to oboe to tenor sax on the album, 
which is filled with soft, splendid sounds. 
Judes such notc- 


bassist 


t and drum 

and the Sweet Inspirations, 
е heard on Hey Jude, which 
at a barely audible level and 
low murmur 
ш approach 
McCartney classic, 


to the Lenn 


Except for a couple of inexplicable 
M) 
moving experience. Gospel, blues, rock— 
Rawls puts it all together with a natural 
earthiness, tempered by a polished pro- 
ionalism, that is exactly right for the 
material. The high points, No More and 
Hallelujah for a Friend, pulse with 
musical vitality. And, aside from Here's 
That Rainy Day and I’m Waiting, cvery- 
thing in the album is first-rate. 


The Kinks have done an album about 
the tightrope we all walk between sanity 
and the diseases of modern urban 
ed in this саве by Londor 
ction, sterile or polluted holidays, 
ms of unknown 
: Acule Schizo- 
. The saga is 
Muswell 


phrenia Paranoia Blu 
recounted, not without humor, 
Hillbillies (RCA), which is some 
sically understated but always 


Mac Davis has been a songwriter of 
istinction for some time now. But only 
recently has he discovered (along with 
a growing legion of followers) that 
he's the best purveyor of his son 
in Music (Columbia) presents 
own compo 


1 Believe 


style. The melodies are 
haunting and the lyrics sophistic: 
their deceptive simplicity. On 
wood Humpty Dumpty: "My guitar went 
and caught a cold / Lately every song 
I write seems to come out / Wrinkled 
up and withered and old"; Poem for 


My Little Lady: "I'm the only blemish 
on her virgin soul / And she don't even 
know it"; Sarah Between the Lines: 

а pick and grin / And sip my gi 
And swear E knew the answers / And 1 
was twenty-eight / And gainin' weight / 


When I found out I'd been wrong. 


Ordinarily, organists of the jazzrock 
variety do not set us aglow with excite- 
ment, The ax hı s seemed to us 
somewhat unwieldy for the idiom. Rich 
ard Groove Holmes is one of the few 
contemporary practitioners of "God's 
noble instrument" to make it all work. 
Сотіт en Home (Blue Note) provides 
some good clues as to why. Holmes can 
catch the proper balladic spirit of Fran- 
сіз Газ Theme from “Love Story,” be 
delicately swinging, as on Antonio Car 
los Jobim's Wave, or drive your blues 
away with the likes of Groowin’ for Mr. 
G., Down Home Funk and Don't Mess 
with Me. 


Produced by Burt Bacharach and Hal 
David, Dionne (Warner Bros) testifies 
not only to the ongoing creativity of 
that songwriting team but also to their 
ablest interpreter, Miss Warwicke, the 
pop goddess who really deserves her ac- 
claim. Having said all that, we will cavil 
at the inclusion of one or two numbers 
here—for instance, Hasbrook Heights— 
and note that Lesley Duncan's Love Song 
is probably the top song in the album. 
(Only three of the tunes are not by 
Bacharach-David) ne's versions of 
Close to You and I Just Have 10 Breathe 
more than make up for the lapses, how- 
ever, and the disc has been beautifully 
recorded by PI 


Some of the most sensuous moments 
in music are to be found among the 
Songs of Debussy (RCA), and it's appro- 
priate that a generous selection of them 
has recently been recorded by soprano 
Anna Moflo. Miss Moffo is a superbly 
sexy singer—if that is a permissible 
thing to say of a distinguished Metropol- 

n Op гапа she weaves her way 
through Debussy's delicately voluptuous 
world with seductive authority. Jean 
Casadesus is her able accomplice at the 
keyboard. 


st 


Mother Earth is one of the best 
country-rock groups going, and if you 
haven't heard Tracy Nelson's voice 
(which in its lower ranges sounds more 
like Bessie Smith's than Janis’ ever did), 
there is no better place to hear it than 
On Tracy Nelson / Mother Earth. (Reprise). 
These are mostly casy, loping country 
tunes with the vigor superimposed by 
the instrumental and vocal assurance the 
group brings to every cut. The Same Old 
Thing features Jack Lee's lead guitar 
amd some interesting changes; I Don't 


Meet the payments 


with month 
meetings. 


Monthly meetings in the Army Reserve mean a steady extra income. 

Money to buy a bike. Or a new car. Money to save for a son's college 
education. Money to salt away for a comfortable retirement. 

You attend one of these weekend meetings a month in the Reserve. 
And you also spend two weeks each summer sharpening your skills. 

"This all starts, of course, after four or five months of basic and 
advanced training. 

If long-range success is just as important to you as instant money, 
you can keep moving ahead in the Reserve by earning promotions. 

We'll even send you to schoo] to learn a civilian career skill. We can 
offer you one of 300 courses, depending upon the specific skill requirements 
of your local unit. 

You can see that the Reserve has a lot of good deals going. So get 
going with the Reserve. 


Army Reserve Opportunities 
Р.О. Вох 68H 
Philadelphia, Pa. 19132 


Tell me more about how the 
Army Reserve pays. 


The Army Rese 


Visitors are always welcome at the Olympia Brewing Company, Tumwater, Washington, 8:00 to 4:30 every day. *Oly 92 


E яр 


We do alot of things that most 

other breweries don't do. 

Like kráusening our beer-a costly 
secondary aging and fermenting 
process. And personally selecting our 
hops. And using only choice barley 
malt. And pureartesian brewing water 
When you'reenjoying the simple 
pleasure ofa good, cold Olympia 

you probably won't care that we do 
any of these things. 

But you'd taste the difference if 

we didn't. So we do. 


Olympia. 
Its the Water. And a lot more. 


ы 
e 
m 
м 
= 
ы 
а 


Pasta-Vino restaurant for 
gourmet Italian wining and 
dining 5 
Lobby-wide Towers Bar, 

the meeting place 


forall eom 


For business or pléásüre;- 
visitors to Chicago need a а specia 2 
convenient, comfortable: ‘for Playboy Club keyhole 
place to stay: For rates or reservations, call 
бер That place is PLAYBOY. (312) 943-2000. Or write to 
gy TOWERS, Chicago's newest Sales Manager, Playboy Towers, 
E full-service hotel in the heart -163 E. Walton Place, 
ы of the Gold Coast. Chicago, Illinois. 60611 


playboy TOWERS. Or call your local Club for instant reservations. 


Do That Kind of Thing Anymore is all 
Tracy, with brilliant backing by Andy 
McMahon's piano and foot. pedal bass. 
Prestige Records has dipped deep into 
aulis and come up with a series of 


its 


: Modern Jorz Quertet, goii 
to its Kenny Clarke d 
comprised of the Cookin’ 
LPs, when the Davis quintet had Col- 
trane, Philly Joc, Paul Chambers and 
Red Garland: Charlie Perker, when the 
Bird was really П nd reprises ol 
such Iuminaries as "Trane, Monk, M 
gus, Rollins, and on and on. A torrent 
outpouring of jazz classics. 


THEATER 


AL Carmin piano-playing miu- 
from Greenwich Villages Judson 
Memorial Church, has composed scores 
of scores. Push а Garmines button and 
es a melodic musical comedy. 
es his own book. 
e book trouble, 
and his changing colliborators fare no 
h a book by David 
ad lyrics by Car 
sional assist on the 
lyric stein), at least begins with 
an cnticingly мш» The 
ún of the piece is J. Edgar 
—oops, Jacob Ноор 

roes are four of Ame 
andits—Billy the Ki 
rand John I in seen 
oppressed minority hounded by 
the lawless FBI and Чейс top С 
man, The authors have collapsed. time 
so that the [our good-bad guys inhal 
the stage simultaneously and аге soo 
in collusion against Ноор : 
but the book 


out coi 


better. Wanted, wi 


з 


The performers 

and-cowhoys 
is gre. and 
1 Merwin Gold- 
smith makes a super Hooper, looking 
«d 
Jonathan V . If for nothing else, 
the show would be memorable for ihe 
final moment, when Hooper, a 
suddenly confronts his ne 
Barker for the first time and 
n quivering adoration, A spot- 
s his sl face and in a 
glowing Carmi he blissfully 
confesses, “I's love" At the Che 
Lane, 38 Commerce Street. 


is tune, 


necessary in your Pussycats? 
might wind up with an alleycat. 


"The Pussycat. — 
у The orange- sweet sour that 

mixes up as quick as a cat. 
У жа Bartender's Instant Pussycat 

а= and Early Times таке it purr-fect. Ask 

for Instant Pussycat Mix at your favorite food or liquor store. 
To get 4 Pussycat glasses,* send $2.95 to: Early Times Pussycat 
Glasses, Р О. Box 378, Maple Plain, Minn. 55359. 
“offer valid only where legal—limited time only. 


E 


86 PROOF • EARLY TIMES DISTILLERY CO.. LOUISVILLE, KY, естес 1913 


57 


Marlboro Red 
(г Longhorn 100'5— 


ж 


те Ше flayor is. Р tei $ Pn Ta to Ile, 


boro Country... ИШ _ 
= Marlhoro = 


THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


Bye been manied for seven years to а 
an who has provided me with an at- 
che 
I could want. Unfortunately, a longtime 
friend has recently become my lover 
and thinks I should remain married 
while he finishes his professional school- 
ing, after which he will be able to 
provide me with the kinds of material 
possessions my husband docs now. Frank- 
ly. if he sid, “Lers Id 
nd. Fm sure that my 
lover is sincere, but he has a mind like 
an adding machine. I dont like to 
hurt anyone and I prefer to he a one-man 
woman. Where do we go from herc?— 
Mis. L. B., Chatianooga, Tennessee 

AN your lover has given yon хо Jar is 
a ticket to nowhere, so don't plan any 


ctive home 


nd almost everythin 


get married, 


leave my hush 


journeys with him. Settle your marriage 
situation on ils own terms. If you see no 
possibility of love and happiness there, 
terminate il and seek а more satisfying 
life of your own. But don't count on a 
man who cherishes you while you re- 
main married 10 a meal ticket. He's not 
an adding machine—he's a calculator. 


Wi soon be spending а year in Europe 
and would like to know whether or not 
VI be able to us 
there (toaster, 1 
believe the electric current over there is 
different. but perhaps 1 can have the va 
ous units adapted. Or would that be pro- 
hibitively expensive —A. E 
Californ 

European electrical standards are usu- 
ally 220 volts at 50 cycles, compared 
with 110 volis at 60 cycles, which is nor- 
mal for the United States, However, this 
is not always the case, so check with the 
tourist offices of the countries you intend 
lo visit. For nonmotorized appliances, 
you can buy a step-down transformer at 
an electiical-supply house that will con- 
0 volts to 110 оха it might 
not be worth the expense. Such a bans 
former far а toaster may cost as much as 


my electrical appliances 


fi equipment, etc). I 


ven 2 


$25. Uf this seems a lot of trouble, you 
might look for a shop that sells appli 
ances already set 10 operate on European 
electric current—mast major U.S. cities 
have such stores. Motordviven devices 
present a more complicated problem. 
Even with normal vollage, most will 
operate slower (and will possibly ower- 
heat) on the 50-cycte current, making tape 
recorders and turntables, for example, 


useless. Consult. the manufacturer, since 
there are exceplions—some tape те 
cordes have simple panel adjustments for 
switching the unit to 220 volts at 50 
cycles. For other units, it may be possible 
lo buy а conversion kit. An appliance 
that can operate with either batteries or 


alternating current, such as some cassette 
tape recorders, will work on either 50 
or 60-cycle current (but make sure the 
voltage has been reduced). 


Д... an amorous evening, my girl, 
whom I've been dating for several 
months, began to cry. Alter an hour of 
coaxing, she finally told me that her 
boyfriend had raped her when she was 
13. After all those years, she has been 
unable to discuss it with anyone but her 
best girlfriend and now me. She cried 
because she has been unable to trust any 


man since and was afraid that 1 was only 
interested in sex. This is an important 
part of any relationship, but sex is not 
my sole reason for loving her. Can you 
tell me how 1 can get her to trust me?— 
S. J. Denver, Colorado. 

Try to convince her of your respect 
for her personality as well as for her 
person. Suggest doing those things to- 
gether that do not lead automatically to 
the bedroom; plan outings with others 
along so she doesn’t start to wonder why 
you're always alone with her. Do your 
best to persuade her that the healthy 
lover is the one who believes enjoyable 
sex takes the willing cooperation of two, 
that it's the man who refuses to believe 
that the act of sex is a mutual enterprise 
who is the latent rapist. If your efforts 
do not lead to progress within a reason- 
able period of time, say, one month, you 
should encourage her to consult а psy- 
chotherapist, as her fear may lie deeper 
than your good intentions can resolve. If 
you encourage her and stand by her 


during this lime, without forcing your 
physical attentions on her, things should 
work out well for both of you. 


оша 1 tip a tennis pro and, if so, 
how much?—C. N., Miami, Florida. 
Normally, ihe club dues and/or lesson 
fees you pay are all that’s expected. But 
if you feel that an instructor has been 
particularly outstanding, or if the pro at 
а club of which you're not a member 
goes out of his way to introduce you to 
other players, hits with you when he’s 
not busy and otherwise makes you feel 
at home, there's no reason you shouldn't 


offer a monetary expression of your ap- 
preciation. The size of the gratuity is 
determined solely by your own sense of 
what's appropriate. 


Шау, т find myself involved. with 
the shy, modest, sweettype girl. Then, 
after І win her, I'm inclined to lose 
interest and find her boring. The kind 
of girl I wish I could win is the one 
who's aggressive, sexy, strong-willed and 
generally categorized as tough. But when 
confionted with this kind of girl, I'm 


Chantilly 
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PLAYBOY 


60 


overcome with doubts and feelings of in- 
Im 22 and my friends are 
settling down, while Im still worried 

bout the type of girl 1 like and the fact 
that I've never had an intense love af- 
fair. What do you suggest?—J. L., Chi- 
cago. Illinois. 

Categories such аз sweet and tough 
are better suited to foods than to people. 
Stop thinking about types and ty to 
relate to individuals. Let your discov- 
cries of yourself and your dates lead you 
gradually toward more serious situa- 
lions, as they happen. You have plenty 
of time. Don’t get all stirred up about 
settling down. 


МЇ: of the myths about pot have 
now been exploded, yet it seems to me 
ang it 
s one's c This is 
ve, but I'm а major 


1 creative writi 
obviously — intriguing. Is there any tr 
. S. Omaha, Nebraska. 
You may have read about a study by 
Drs. Jan Carl Grossman and Russell 
Eisenman, of Temple University, and 
Ronald Goldstein, of Pennsylvania State 
University, in which they adminis 
battery of tests to 316 undergraduates 
and discovered that the heavier users of 
marijuana also tended to be the most cre- 
alive and venturesome. According to an- 
other survey, conducted by Professor 
Joseph Woelfel at the University of Illi 
nois, the grade average for marijuana 
smokers al four universities was slightly 
higher than for nonusers. Professor 
Woclfel warned, however, that there 
was nothing to indicate that the use of 
marijuana actually improved grades, only 
that the users of it tended to be brighter 
than the nonusers—a condition that obv 
ously applies to the creativity and adven- 
durousness test as well. 


Bm mate, 22 years old and a bisexual, 
ng enjoyed sex with a number of 
men and women in the past. Now 1 
plan 10 marry a gil with whom I've 
been going for a while. To keep from 
possibly embarrassing her in the future, 
I've considered telling her something 
about my past. "nds, however, say it 
would be foolish to let her know and 
perhaps ruin our marriage before it even 
begins. What do you think?—O. M., 
Sandusky, Ohio. 

You'd be far better off ruining your 
marriage before rather than afler it be- 
gins. By all means, tell the girl—prefer- 
ably in consultation with a professional 
marriage counselor who knows about 
the risks involved in marriages with a 
bisexual partner—and let her make the 
decision whether or not she still wants 
to marry you. Many of the cases of 
secondary impotence reported in Mas- 
ters апа Johnson's “Human Sexual In- 
adequacy” involved men who had had 
an carly homosexual preference, then tried 


to reverse il—unfortunalely, for the wives 
—through marriage. The effort, obviously, 
is not always successful. Yes, we know you 
snid bisexual, but it’s unclear 10 us (and 
it may be unclear to you) whether you 
turn on equally to both sexes or lean 
more heavily toward one or the other. 
Unless you know for sure which side 
you'll continue to swing [rom—and we 
don't sce how you can make that predic- 
tion now—anything but total honesty in 
a marital situation is а great disservice 
to both partners. 


Tire other night. I invited a young 
lady to help me demolish a large piece 
of choice sirloin that had been languish- 
ing unappreciated in my freezer. She 
seemed enthusiastic—until I let slip the 
fact that the meat had been allowed to 
thaw previously and had then been re 
frozen. She promptly insisted that what 
looked to me like a perfectly good steak 
was no longer edible and she suggested 
that we find other sustenance. I ended up 
taking her out to dinner and we had an 
enjoyable evening in spite of its inauspi 
cious beginnings, but 1 still don't know 
what she has against refreezing meat. Do 
you2—H. D., Kansas City, Missov 

There are several reasons for not re- 
freezing raw meat, the most important 
of which is that it’s dangerous. While 
meat is thawing at тоот temperature, от 
at any temperature between 40 and 120 
degrees Fahrenheit, it may acquire harm- 
ful bacteria, sometimes in large quantity. 
If the meat is cooked, the bacteria are 
destroyed; but if it’s refrozen, they remain 
in a suspended state and may multiply 
so astronomically during the second thaw 
that even after cooking (especially if the 
meat is served rare or medium тазе) the 
meat could retain some active bacteria. 
Besides the danger, meat that's refre 
and thawed a second time loses some 
nutrients and flavor, and texture is 
affected to some extent as well. 


ren 


О). various occasions, my husband has 
come home after Ive already been 
asleep for several hours. Invariably, he 
wants to make love—a onesided affair, 
since I can't respond adequately when 
I'm still half asleep. I strongly feel that 
love should be totally shared and not 
merely a release of sexual frustration. 
Although 1 never deny him sex at any 
other time, he doesn't understand my 
reluctance on these occasions. Do you 
think I have а point, or am I completely 
in the wrong?—Mrs. F. B. Albany, 
New York. 

The problems that might result from 
refusing your husband could conceivably 
be greater than those caused by his 
choice of un inconvenient time. Since 
his late lovemaking is a sometime thing, 
we suggest thal you accommodate his 
amorous inclinations, explaining 10 him 
that you would be more enthusiastic 
about it if he took тоте lime awakening 


you—all of you. You might console 
yourself with the thought that the prob- 
lem most wives have with husbands 
who work Inte or otherwise keep late 


hours is cxactly the opposite of yours. 


W. alcools blance@—W. А. 
Providence, Rhode Island. 

They're "white alcohols.” the brandies 
distilled from fermented fruits rang 
ing from plums and cherries (о berries 
of every kind. You'll find more about 
them in Thomas Mario's "Captivatingly 
Clear,” which appeared in the May 1009 
PLAYBOY. 


Ya. old male virgin and 1 
intend to stay this way. 1 get much 
greater kicks from my work as a scientist 
than sex could ever give mc. I'm con 
cemed, however, about. nocturnal. emis- 
sions, which occur perhaps once a week. 
Is there any way to curb them—some 
kind of drug or some sort of clectroi 
device? —W. T.. Indianapolis, Indiana. 

None that we know of. You may be 
under the mistaken impression that you 
can magically tvansform your “bas 
sexual desires into something noble, such 
as the pursuit of science. This notion of 
sexual alchemy, often dignified by the 
term sublimation, has never been scien- 
üifically validated. Indeed, ап exami- 
nation of some of the most creative and 
productive individuals in history would 
indicate normal and sometimes hyper- 
active sex lives. It's possible that you 
have religiously based scruples about sex 
that ате so deep-seated you're not aware 
of them; or perhaps your personality 
is such that you don't wish to become 
involved in the time- and energy 
consuming game playing necessary jor 
establishing relationships with people. 1f 
the latter ts true, then masturbation is au 
excellent substitute. If the former, then 
we think you need more help than we 
can provide. 

Frank Harris tells in his autobiogra- 
phy how, as а youth, he tied a string to 
the head of his penis before going to 
sleep, so that when it became erect dur- 
ing an erotic dream, he'd be awakened 
by a sharp pain, thus preventing his 
ejaculation. Sounds foolish, doesn’t it? 
Any other method of shortstopping noc- 
turnal emissions would be just as jool- 
ish. In your case, in fact, we'd guess your 
body and. psyche are trying to tell you 
something, You'd be wise to pay heed. 


at are 


All reasonable questions—from.— fash- 
ion, food and drink, stereo 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 Awe, Chicago, Шінді 60611. The 
most provocative, pertinent queries will 
be presented on these pages cach month. 


DEWAHS PROFILES 


(Pronounced Do-ers “White Label") 


JOHN WALSH 


HOME: Boston, Massachusetts 
AGE: 30 

PROFESSION: Field Officer for The International 
Society for the Protection of Animals. 

HOBBIES: Flying his own stunt plane. 

LAS'T BOOK READ: *Death as a Way of Life." 
LAST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Directed the rescue 
of over 9,000 jungle animals threatened by a flood 
created by a new hydroelectric à 
“Time Is Short and the Water Ri 
QUOT 
is no longer bein; 
become a moral i 
why shouldn't 
PROFILE: Àn incisive mind. A forceful and 
articulate defender for the wild kin; 


"To most people today, being a hunter 
hero. The killing of anin 
ue... animals belong to everybody 
body learn to live with them?" 


er 


unde ding of the natural and man-made laws 
concerning animals will lead others to a better 


appreciation of an animal's beauty and its crucial 
role in the balance of nature, 


SCOTCH: Dewar's White Label” 


BLENDED SCOICN WHISKY» 88 PROD 


Authentic. There are more than a thousand ways 
to blendwhiskiesin Scotland, butfeware authenticenough 
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. 


61 


PLAYBOY 


62 


Wanted 


Everybody who's interested in sporty 
GT carsseems to be turned on by our Datsun 
240-Z with its 2.4 liter, overhead cam engine, 
safety front disc brakes and fully indepen- 
dent suspension. Everybody is surprised, 
too, at the low suggested price. Especially 
when you consider what's included — tinted 
glass, radial tires, reclining bucket seats and 
AM/FM radio, for instance. 


But then it really shouldn't be any 
big surprise that a car with that combination 
of assets and appeals should make it big 
out there in the marketplace. 

After all, when you're talking about 
а саг that's sexy, powerful, economical 
agile and impressive as our Z-car, there's 
only one way to describe it: Wanted. 

Drive a Datsun...then decide. 


FROM NISSAN WITH PRIDE 


THE PLAYBOY FORUM 


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


AMNESTY 

There has been tremendous. public 
discussion on the issue of whether or not 
ant amnesty to the estimated 70,000 
ican exiles who rebuffed U.S. for- 


gn policy in Indoc with а curt 
No." Many of these young resisters were 
faced with the dilemma of whether to 
break the draft law or to participate in а 
war that seemed illegal to them. Perhaps 
granting them amnesty would seem unfair 
to those who served and, in many cases, 
died. But it is the nondraftable popula- 
tion, who also did not fight in the war, 
who will decide the expan 

American popular reactions have 
proved that there are those who vill 
readily rally under the banner of the 
double standard to pardon men such as 
Lieutenant William Calley but think 
twice about y to men 


tes’ [ate 


whose only crime is refusing 10 kill or 

be killed. Enough! The time has come 

to bring our boys home. All of them. 
Ronald W. Thee 


Anaheim, California 


FACING THE CONSEQUENCES 

I am а conscientious objector serving 
in the Air Force. 1 deserted once, but 1 
alized that if I really believed in my 
convictions it was а copout to run away 
from my country and so I turned myself 
іш. While I was free, I joined Vietnam 
Veterans Against the War, and when I 
gave myself up. they set up a press 
conference for me. I was able то express 
10 the news media my beliefs that the 
Vietnam war is nothing but a fiasco 
costing many thousands of innocent 
lives and that. Christ will soon return to 
this world and people had better get 
themselves together. 

ТЕН 
cies in our country, he really blows it if 
he runs away. Here іп Vietnam, though 
I was returned under guard aud have 
only limited freedom while my applica 
tion for discharge is being processed, I've 
leallet- 
lating 


"son is opposed to certain poli- 


heen able to work with others i 


ing. holding rallies and circu à 
petition to end the war. More and more 
Gls are accepting their. responsibilities 
instead of running from them 

I dare say that if the thousands of 
deserters outside the U.S. would return 
en masse and bear witness to the! 


con- 


victions, the public would have to listen, 


the courts would be swamped and the 
courageous few who 
prison because of their beliefs would 


е now rotting in 


suffer less as scapegoats for all the others 

We have at this moment in history an 

opportunity to make the world а beauti- 

ful place, but we will lose it if we keep 

running away from our oppressors and 

from that with which we do not agree. 
Sgt. Bruce R. Porter 


APO San Francisco, California 


RECRUITER REFUTED 

During the three years I served on 
active duty in the U.S. Navy, I worked 
with the recruiting department 
produced broadcast scripts and adver- 
recruitment that indud- 


ad 


tisements for 


cd the following message: "Serve two 
years active duty in the Naval Air Re 
serve—and only two years—then be trans- 


ve.” When Z 
ed. the Navy assured me T could 
serve my enlistment in three years active 
duty, one year active reserve. and two 
years inactive reserve. Now that Гуе put 
in the active-duty and activereserve time, 
the Navy is ordering me t0 complete my 
service obligation as а mem- 
ber of the active reserve, which is required 
to attend weckly d 


^d to the stand-by res 


remainin; 


ls and a two-week an- 
nual “cruise.” I have found out that my 
case is not unique 

Thus, for me and for thousands of 
others, the Navy has turned the promises 
I broadcast into lies Гус taken this 
Case to an attorney to try to go to court 
and have the Navy's decision reversed. 
but this is turning out to be very expen. 
sive. Until my resources usted, 
I'll continue to fight for the freedom I feel 
1 deserve. 


Philip I 
Des Plaines, Шіноіз 


Weintraub 


THE PURSUIT OF JUSTICE 

The Kent State martyrs are not, as 
Time presumptuously reported, "about 
1o | * "The dropping of 


"s indicument of 25 


ss imo histor 


the state grand jur 
persons—students, nonstudents and a 
evidence 
simply exposes that. proceeding for the 
farce it was. Former Ohio Senator Ste- 
phen M. Young called it “a fraud. from 
the start" conceived to “whitewash” the 
actions of James A. Rhodes, then gov- 
emor, in а tired, untrained 
Na pd unit to. Kent in May 
1970, when fresh, trained Gu 


faculty member—for insuffic 


Ismen 


were a 


able. The disgrace of the state 
ad jury heightens the need for a 


SHEAFFER 
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Pride in giving, pride in receiving, 
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Sheaffer “White Dot". Crafted in 
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63 


PLAYBOY 


64 


Federal grand. jury investigation. of the 
Kent State tragedy so that America can 
learn why unarmed students were shot 
on a college campus in Ohio. 

апу 10.100 Ke 
members petitioned President Nis 
convene such a Federal grand jury inves 
tigation list October. Since then, nearly 
40,000 other students from around the 
country have signed similar petitions 
that we presented in ап hourlong meet- 
ш to Presidential aide Leonard С 
ment, The steering committee. of the 
Emergency Conference for New Voters 
(now the National Youth Caucus) a 
ded by 3000 young people 
I over the country, also endorsed 
the petition. 

As representatives of the petitioners. 
we sent a letter to Time in рес 
1971. responding to the arbitr; 
ment that the Kent State affair is about 
10 pass into history. Time, declining to 
publish our letter, told us it was pub- 
lishing a letter from the four mothers of 
the dead students that made the same 
point. We replied that running only a 
letter from the parents creates the erro- 
neous impression that they are the only 
ones who want justice and leaves them 
to stand alone in the public eye. 

Kent State has decidedly not 
into history. We are still awaiting Presi- 
dent Nixon's reply to our pe 
which, the White House has told our 
new university president, Dr. n A. 
Olds, vill be soon. 

We hope that by taking the protest 
out of the es and putting it on 
paper we've restored 10 the power of 
the pen the dignity that many young 
people believe it has lost. We hope, too, 
that we have created a si n that af- 
fords President Nixon the opportunity to 
restore young people's faith in the system 
by responding affirmatively to our demo 
cratic expression through petition. 
aul Keane 

Greg Rambo 
Kent State U: 
Kent, Ohio 

Keane is a 27-year-old graduate stu- 
dent at Kent State. Rambo is a 21-усат- 
old senior and president of the Kent 
State Young Republicans Club. 


from 


OSTRACIZED SERVICEMEN 

Regardless of the fact that Servicemen 
wear а uniform, they are people who 
think, love and—when given the chance 
ally conce 
volved as our brothers on the outside 
(maybe more so). Why, then, when the 
youth of this nation are trying to break 
down barriers of. prejudice, do so many 
socially ostracize men whose uniforms or 
short haircuts identify them as Service- 
men? I say, in the name of millions like 
ysclf, when you see a soldier walking 
down the street, rap with him, find out 
where he’s really at, take away some of 


are just as рой 


FORUM NEWSFRONT 


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


TWO STATES CLOSE DEATH ROW 

For the first time, high courts in two 
slates have declared. the death penalty 
unconstitutional. 

The supreme court of California, in- 
lerpreting a section of the state constitu- 
tion, decided six to one that execution is 
cruel and unusual punishment that is 
“unnecessary to any legitimate 
the state and . . . incompatible 
dignity of man and the judicial process.” 
Also by a six-to-one vote. the New Jersey 
supreme court struck down that state's 
death penalty, because il coerced de- 
fendants in capital cases to incriminate 
themselves by pleading guilty rather than 
risk a jury trial in which they could be 
sentenced to the clectric chair, Neither 
court based its ruling on the crueland- 
unusual-punishment prohibilion in the 
Federal Constitution, which is being con- 
sidered by the United States Supreme 
Court in other cases challenging the con- 
stitutionality of all death penaltie 
california governor Ronald Reagan 
fumed at the court's ruling and called 
for a state constitutional amendment to 


save the gas chamber. 


THE GREENING OF AMERICA 

WASHINGTON, D.c.— The. former depu- 
ty director of the Justice Department's 
narcotics bureau. has called jor the “de- 
criminalization” of marijuana and has 
backed up his appeal by joining the 
advisory board of the National Organi- 
zation for the Reform of Marijuana 
Laws. John Finlator, who carned the 
nickname Supernarc when he was 
number-two man in the Federal narcotics 
agency, criticized. the Government's ac- 
ceplance of many “false myths” about 
pot and said, “The rhetoric and emo- 
tion surrounding the marijuana debate 
make significant progress in other arcas 
[of drug control] an impossibility.” He 
told a Chicago Sun-Times mh cr 
that a jail sentence for smoking pot “is 
just as wrong as hell” and said that as а 
member of the NORML advisory board, 
he would actively campaign to remove 
criminal penalties against marijuana. 
Keith Stroup, executive director of 
NORML, said the organization, which is 
supported by the Playboy Foundation, is 
recruiting a number of other prominent 
persons and will work to make mari 
шата а 1972 election issue by pressing 
Presidential candidates to announce their 
positions on legalizing pot. 

Shortly after the NORML announce- 
ments, reports came that Government in- 
vesligators and researchers were reaching 
similar conclusions. According to TI 
New Yor members of the 


Times, 


National Commission on Marijuana and 
Drug Abuse split on the question of 
marijuana selling but agreed unani- 
mously Ihat private pot smoking should 
not be subject to criminal penalties. 
And in its second annual report on its 
continuing studies of marijuana, the Na- 
tional Institute of Mental Healih lile 
wise found no basis for categorizing 
marijuana as a dangerous drug nor for 
prosecuting its users. 


EROS PUBLISHER JAILED 

LEWISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA —A fler nine 
years of appeals, Ralph Ginzburg has 
gone to prison for Ihree years on a puri- 
lanical lechnicality. As publisher of the 
mildly titillating Eros magazine and two 
other publications, he was convicted in 
1963 of violating the century-old Com- 


stock Act against mailing obscene mate- 
rials. Three years later, his conviction was 
upheld by the United States Supreme 
Court in a controversial decision that 
evaded classifying Ginzburg’s publica- 
tions as obscene but declared his promo- 
tion of them to be "pandering"—a 
doctrine never before applied and rarely 
invoked since. Before surrendering lo 
authorities, Ginzburg tore up a copy of 
the Dill of Rights; а short time later he 
and a convicted bank robber, both in 
handcuffs, were transported to the Lewis- 
burg Federal Penitentiary. A number of 
prominent persons protested the sentence 
in a full-page advertisement in The New 
York Times. Playwright Arthur Miller 
wrote, “A man is going lo prison for 
publishing and advertising stuf} a few 

cars ago which today would hardly raise 
ап eyebrow in your dentist's office. This 
is the folly, the menace of all censorship 
—it lays down rules for all time which 
are ludicrous a short time later.” 


NEW ABORTION ACTIONS 
MONTPELIER, VERMONT—Side-stepping 
Specific constitutional questions, the Ver- 
mont supreme court. ruled the state's 
1846 abortion law "invalid" on the basis 
of the law's inconsistency in punishing 
the person who performs an abortion 
but not the person who obtains one. By 
avoiding constitutional issues, the Ver- 
mont court apparently sought to exempt 
its ruling from whatever decision. the 
U.S. Supreme Court hands down on the 
constitutionality of abortion laws in 
other slates. The majority opinion de- 
scribed the Vermont law as hypocritical 
and said, “On the one hand the legisla- 
tion, by specific reference, leaves un- 
touched in the herself those 
rights respecting her own choice to bear 


woman 


children. . . . Yet, tragically, unless 
her life itself is at stake, the law leaves 
her only to the recourse of attempts 
at self-induced abortion, uneounseled 
and unassisted by a doctor." Until the 
legislature can agree on а new law, prob- 
ably next year, abortion in Vermont is 
subject only lo the common law, which 
allows the operation for any reason up 
to about the 18th week of pregnancy. 
Isewhere: 

* The supreme court of Florida 
ruled six 10 one that the state’s 1568 
abortion law is unconstitutionally “vague 
and indefinite" in allowing abortions 
only to save the life of the woman. How- 
rr, the court's deciston would not take 
effect for 60 days, giving ihe state legis- 
lature time to enact а new law. 

+ In New Orleans, the American. Bar 
Association's house of delegates over- 
elmingly approved a resolution calling 
on all states to allow unrestricted abor- 
tion up to the 20th k of pregnancy. 

+ А U.S. Supreme Court order has 
temporarily barred (he stale of Wiscon- 
sin from closing a Madison abortion clin. 
ic that opened after a Federal court in 
Milwaukee declared the state's abortion 
law unconstitutional in late 1970. The 
Supreme Court let stand an injunction 
protecting the operator of the clinic from 
prosecution until the Wisconsin supreme 
court. issues its own decision on the law's 
constitutionality. 

+ Afier a hulicrous back-and-forth legal 
battle over whether or not the promise of 
suicide would justify an Ilinois abortion 
“to preserve the life of the woman,” the 
slate supreme cowt ultimately barred the 
operauion 10 an indigeni 15-year-old 
Chicago girl with a history of emotional 
problems and previous suicide attempts. 
She was then helped to obtain a legal 
abortion in New York by the Clergy 
Gonsultation Service in Chicago and the 
Playboy Foundation. 


DRAGON F5, JAY BIRDS 

TULSA, OKLANOMA—The grand dragon 
of the Oklahoma Ku Klux Klan and 
three of his colleagues nied to make 
citizen's arrests of cast members during a 
performance of the musical “Най” Aft- 
er the lights dimmed for the show's nude 
scene, the four climbed onto the stage, 
seized a microphone and made their 
announcement. The audience booed, the 
lights came back up for the scheduled 
intermission and security guards escorted 
the Klansmen from the theater. Said one 
of the Klansmen afterward, “They were 
just as naked as jay bids." 


IF YOU CAN'T LICK ’EM .. 

9 ома crY—Some members of 
the state's house of vepresenlatives, sup- 
porting а measure to give adult rights to 
18-yearolds, were irked when prohibi- 
tionists managed to amend the bill to 


exclude beer-drinking privileges. So they 
went the antibecr forces one betier and 
amended the bill to raise the drinking 
age to 40. "This is a frivolous amend- 
ment and should be throwed oul,” said 
one member of the house; but between 
the protest votes and the anti-beer votes, 
the amendment was passed and sent to a 
committee, which decided that I8 was not 
too young for beer drinking after all. 


PRICE OF SEXUAL EQUALITY 

NEW vonk—The cilys human rights 
commission has decreed ап end to la- 
dies’ days in New York bars. The com- 
mission ruled that serving women drinks 
at reduced prices constitutes sex discrimi- 
nation and is therefore illegal. 


CLASHING SYMBOLS 

Recent hassles over anthems and flaps 
over flags include the following: 

+ In Richmond, Virginia, the state's al- 
torney general ruled that the University 
of Virginia's ban on flying the Confeder- 
ate flag at football games was unconstitu- 
tional. He said that while the Stars and 
Bars might be ап offensive symbol to 
some, banning its. display represented a 
“prior restraint on First Amendment 
rights.” 

“іп St. Louis, the U.S. Eighth Circuit 
Court of Appeals has upheld the sus- 
pension of 29 black students who walked 
ош of a pep rally at a high school in 
Jonesboro, Arkansas, because the band. 
played "Dixie." The court also refused 
to prohibit the playing of the song at 
school-related functions on the grounds 
that "Dixie" is а historic and traditional 
piece of music and по longer a symbol 
of slavery. 

+ In Omaha, Nebraska, four Creigh- 
ton University cheerleaders were sus- 
pended after they said they would not 
stand during the playing of the nation- 
al anthem at ball game 

* In Boston, the Massachusetts supreme 
court upheld the conviction and six- 
month jail sentence imposed on a 21- 
year-old man for treating the U.S. flag 
“contemptuously” by sewing it on the 
seat of his pants. 

+ In Memphis, a young Catholic priest 
created а local uproar by refusing to let 
a group of Boy Scouts carry the Ameri- 
can flag down a church aisle because it 
“smacked of militarism.” 

“іт Trenton, the New Jersey educa- 
tion commissioner overruled the Newark 
school board's тоге to place black-libei- 
ation flags in the classrooms of public 
schools with a black enrollment of over 
50 percent 1 
had obtained a temporary court injunc- 
tion lo prevent the purchase and display 
of 3000 of the flags, and under the com- 
missioner's ruling, the flags now may be 
displayed only for specific educational 
purposes. 


One member of the boa 


the loneliness that he carries with him 
24 hours a day. Give him the chance he 
deserves. 


Sp/4 Richard C. Cutsha 
Honolulu, Haw: 


MAGICAL THINKING 

1 The Playboy Forum these 

days, I тауса to note the impor- 
псе people with causes attach to sym- 

bol—the peace symbol, long hair, the 


national flag and the like. History 
abounds with ar examples The 
glish tried to prevent. Scotsmen from 


wearing kilts. s suffer the de- 
lusion that suppression of four-letter 
words prevents the acts they represent. 
Quakers refused to take off their hats іп 
court and were persecuted for it. The 
s whipped themselves to murderous 

red of the symbol "Јек." 
haps one day a cry for humanity 
will be heard above the clamor of the 
many symbol-worshiping c 
eventually, people will re 
symbol possesses a meaning beyond that 
which is temporally and locally be- 
stowed upon it. 

Allan Brown. 

Dollard des Ormeaux. Quebec 


When I was in the Army and sti 
tioned at For Lewis, Washington, I 
broke my All my friends signed 
the cast, and I drew a peace symbol on 
it, Two weeks I bis brass held 
n inspection of my ks When 
they saw my cast, а couple of the officers 
looked as if they were going to have 
heart attacks. I got orders to remove the 
symbol, but ash off, so I was 
sent to the base hospital where the cast 
was cut away iced with a new 
ne. My superiors told me that if I ever 
marked a peace symbol on another piece 
of Army property, I would be court- 
martialed. 


John W. Estes 
La Grande, Oregon 


In the Feb; Playboy Fora 
editorial comment. states, "We wish the 
peace symbol really did have some of 
the magical powers its detractors attrib- 
ute to iL" This remark is more astute, 
perhaps, than even rLAvmoY's shrewd 
editors realize. As I see it, there is a ve 
clear connection between the right-wing 
mentality and a belief in magic. One 
aspect of magical thinking is that it 
confuses symbols with for in. 
stan 

doll as if he wı 


the witch doctor sticking pins in a 
stabbing a real person, 


isfact 
used 
this me 


m that the peace 
the Middle Age 


abol was 
by Satani: 


supernatural powers. M 
em believe that Satan actually exists 
that communism, as well as the 


65 


Eating, sleeping. 
drinking and working shoes 
From Freeman. 


For table hopping or table talk. no н or off, this all-white wing was designed for the spo 
with the ease of this one. In pe ve blue and beig М nd of a long hard day, they have а special advan- 
cajole, plead, appease and tease. And the shoe look a ays find them in the dark. But if you have a flashlight, 


assortment of other colors. The Snoozer by Freeman 


t setup for a se W of the world, if you sp t a pair of 
your favorite shoes, make sure they're good-loo г g brown and 
this brown and tans, And when yon assert yourself, they guarantee absolute comfort up 


у too long. wn a 
[һе Barfly by Freeman ihe ladder. No matter who you have to kick. The Worker by Freeman 


ions from $22 to $40 at the finest stores. Freeman Shoe Company, Beloit, Wisconsin $3511. A Division of The U.S, Shoe Corp. 


peace movement is his creation. битик: 
ly, when a demonstrator burns or tram- 
ples the Пар. the rightwinger believes 
he is not merely messing up а piece 
of cloth, he is doing real damage to the 
nation, This helps to expla 
right-w € been 
Ameri 
talismans to ward off evil. 

So, don't be surprised when you sce 
vight-win ting to the peace sym 
bol the way Bela Lugosi іп Dracula 
reacted ʻo э crucifix. 


William Henry 
Апата, Georgia 


DEMOCRATIC FASCISM 

The great enemy of individual free- 
dom in the United States is not Hitler- 
чуе tyranny but a grassroots. pressure 
d conformism, which I call demo: 
It is unnecessary for foes 


ment 
Tull of s 
despors—sheriffs, cops, district attorneys. 
judges, political boses and the like— 
work ceaselessly at the local level to has 
Че the young. the progressive minded, 
the minority groups and the poor. These 
democratic re the real power 
base for racism, stupid drug laws. re 
pressive se censorship efforts and 
similar violations of personal freedom. 
Democratic fascism legitimizes every sort 
of assault on ind berty as being 
the will of the majority. The majority 
can be a more oppressive tyrant than any 
of the Hitlers and Musolinis of history. 
Richind Lambert 
Baltimore, Maryland 


fascists 


LAND OF LINCOLN 

n year. there will be some impor- 
ant elecuons in Illinois, and 1 had 
wanted to learn more about. the laws 
ander which the balloting is conducted. I 


ied 10 get ап official booklet titled 
"Illinois Election Laws" in Chicago and 
was told that it's only available from the 


міне са) L So in 
р 


eptember 1971. I 
wrote to the secretary of state in Spring- 
field, The secretary's office replied. that 
the supply of the booklet was exhausted, 
but that they would send a copy of the 
new printing following the adjournment 
ol the October legislative session, 

Шу, the secretary of state's office 
booklet titled “Election Са 
hich lists key dates con 
elections. 1 received the 
13, 1971, the 
ididates to file nominat- 
ing pei . The last day for filing 
petitions December 20 ed, and I 
still hadn't gotten. the booklet on elec 
боп laws. f wrote again оп that da 
asking why I got the calendar but not 
the laws and on January 4, 1972. 1 
received an answer saying ihe supply 


nected with th 


booklet after. December 
te lor c 


first da 


was exhausted (ацип—о м and t 
would be put on the waiting list. 


k's obvious chat И one wants to run 


Tor office in this stare outside the regula 


party machines. ir is nearly impossible to 
get the necessary information through 
regular channels in time to meet state 
deadlines. This won't surprise those who 
have already written off our so-called 
democratic system of government as 

monumental hoax. But it saddens mc. 


Га like to see the system work for a 
change, instead of watching а суп 


oligarchy work the system. 
Lcon Davis 


Chicago, Ilinois 


WINDY POLITICIANS 
At the hurricanescason planning con- 
ference of the National Oceanic and Ar- 
mospheric Administration, Mis. Roxcy 
Bolton proposed that hurricanes be 
named alter Congressmen. This idea 
has great merit. [ would further suggest 
that the biggest winds be named after 
the Senate majority and minority leaders 
and Presidential aspirants. Other lesser 
winds could be named appropriately, 
based on the proportion of the velocity 
ndurance of the wind compared 
the verbosity of the Senator aud 
inches of newsprint devoted to him. 
Douglas W. Pulse 
Lacey, Washington 


PRESERVING PRESS FREEDOM 
garding the two college-news 
editors threatened. with prosecution 
publishing abertion-referral sources 
(Forum Newsfront, February), Yd like 
form you that che National Asso- 
ciation for Repeal of Abortion Laws 
(АВАП) recently sent а memo to 
over 500 collcge editors urging them to 
һ such information regularly in 
papers. Attached co the memo was 
à list of almost 100 referral agencies and 
ics and their phone numbers. If any 
editor is harassed 1 district attorneys 
or school administrations, МАКА le- 
1 committee ог loch American Civil 
Liberties U iwyers will provide as- 
sistance, as long «s the abortions coun- 
seled for are Jegal. Significantly, the 
University of Florida editor, Коп Sachs, 
charged with a felony for publishing a 
list of abortion-referral agencies in the 
student paper Alligator, was exonerated 
by the felony court of Alachua County 
Judge Benjamin M. ‘Tench de 
clared two sections of the 1868. Florida 
abortion law unconstitutional. The state 
is appealing the ruling 

1 have personally urged а confronta 
tion policy since 1965, when 1 made the 
first of 2500 referrals—in the days when 
pro-abortion people were keeping their 
referral activities semisecret. I think 
open conlron has been the most 
eflective weapon of the abortion. move 
ment; NARAL has pushed it since being 


to i 


ion 


wher 


or ed in 1909. Our mon rece use 
of it was in October 1971. when we in 
nounced that our Midwest vice-president 
Dr. Edgar Keemer, was performing free 
portions for poverty cases in Michiga 
on the basis that the majority of Federat- 
court opinions have negated the Michi 
n abortion law. 

The free-refe 
with commeicia 
opposes as exploiters of women) not 
only provides humanitarian assistance 
for hundreds of thousands of оте 
but the response to it confronts offic 
nd legislators with unshakable proof 
that the people of this country w 
longer allow a woman to be forced 10 
bear а child against her will. Any college 


I no 


editor can secure NARAL'S list of refer- 
ral у writing to the 
ong: at 250 West 57th. Street 


New York, New York 10019. 
Lawrence Lader 
Chairman, Ехеси 
NARAL. 

New York, New Yor 
Lader has been working for abortion 

and birth-control reform since 1955, 

when he wrole a biography of Margaret 

Sanger. He fas since written а compre- 

hensive book titled “Abortion” and 

helped found the Association for the 

Study of Abortion and the National As- 

sociation for the Repeal of Abortion 

Laws. 


е Commiuce 


FLORIDA ABORTION FIGHT 
The abortion issue is being fought on 
many fronts in Florida, and we are 
grateful to eLavnoy for spotlighting the 
cases of Shirley Wheeler, of ow 
per Cocoa Today, and of 
sbortion physicians who are trying to stop 
abortion counseling in the state (The 
Playboy Forum and Forum. Newsfront, 
December 1971). We are facing out- 
moded rel: attitudes based on a 
supematuralîsm that vast numbers. ol 
thinking people reject. The religious 
blocs that wied (0 keep prayers and 
Bible r in the public schools are 
force their theological 
bortion onto the rest 
of us. Separation of church and state de- 
mands opposition to every theological 
inspired lobby and law, including 
tiquated abortion laws such as Florida's. 
That, and the principles of human 
y and freedom require that the 
decision ca portion be leh to 
the woman and her phy 
Edwin H. Wilson 
Cocoa Beach, Florida 
Wilson is executive director emeritus 
of the American Humanist Association. 


news- 
the anti- 


ous 


coming 


PENNSYLVANIA PRO-LIFE ACTIVITIES 
Dr. Bart T. Heffernan is typical of 
those alllicied with narrow. vision wit 
portion is concerned (The Playboy 
тит, Jan 


°- 
¥). He's far from the worst, 


PLAYBOY 


68 


Моге реор!е 
play Dunlop 
than any other ball 
in the world. 


In golf, the name of the game is 


® DUNLOP 


Maxfli by Dunlop. Bulfalc, N.Y /Toronto, Dnt 
Sold only Бу Сон Pr 


though. Take, for example. the pro-lifers? 
activities in Pennsylvania: 

Perhaps our most vocal opponent of 
an intelligent 
representative 


abortion Јам is state 
Marin Mullen. He is 
responsible for introducing a bill, co- 
sponsored by $0 other 
prohibit abortions for any reason w 
Mullen has declared that all 
Roman Catholics in the state favor his 
bill That's an interesting assertion in 
view of the fact that over 70 percent of 
the women requesting abortions from 
Planned Parenthood of Pittsburgh are 
tholics. 
The Pittsburgh Press carried an article 
headlined “ABORTIONS ENDANGER STATE 
WELFARE FUNDS." The fact is that Mullen, 
not abortion, threatens the funds. He 
is unhappy at seeing this public money 
being used to finance ind 
abortions, so he is going to hold up his 
welfare vote until the practice is stopped. 
Mullen would thus use his power as a 
government official to rob women of the 
right to make free decisions about. their 
own bodies; he would use the threat of 
withholding welfare funds from the poor 
as a club to force everyone to act accord- 
ing to his personal views on abortion 
This is the same man who has openly 
stated the fear that 
would lead to a totalitari: 
In addition, 
have introduced another bill that would 
prohibit professional abortion referrals 
as well as the dissemination of any liter- 
ature pertaining to abortion. 
Roger Johnson 
Washington, Pennsyl 


legislators, to 


soever. 


жан women's 


liberal abortion law 
п government! 


some other legislators 


RESPONSIBLE DECISION 
In 


iew of the world's excessive popu- 
lation, one of the most intelligent and 
responsible decisions a woman can make 
is not to have a baby, However, in many 
states with reformed abortion laws 
woman who wants an abortion may have 
to submit to the humiliation of being 
declared incompetent, psychotic or other- 
wise unfit for motherhood in order to 
obtain onc. We must make every effort 
to free women completely from unwant- 
ed pregnancy. The Playboy Forum 
be congratulated for its part in keeping 
this issue before the public 

Sherrill Petersen 
Honolulu, Hawai 


а 


CHOOSING ABORTION 

In deciding to have an abortion sever- 
o. I had to make а very com- 
Tt was not simply а 
matter of what changes T would have to 
c in my own life style but it also in- 
volved the question of how well the child 
could be raised by myself and my future 
husband. My husband, who was then my 
fiancé, wanted me to һауе the baby be- 


al years ag 


plicated choice 


cause he had heard nightmarish stol 
of women suffering mental breakdowns 


after having abortions. Though I would 


have loved to have had a child, there 
were other, more realistic considerations. 
We were both immature, poor and un 
stable. I thought at the time that 1 
probably would be an inadequate 
resentful mother. In opting for abortion, 
I felt that 1. was makin decision in 
the unborn child’s best interests as well 

Those who liberalizers of 
abortion laws as selfish, immoral and 
callous destroyers of life are 
the life that already exists. Furthermore, 
they not giving credit to the com- 
mon sense of the pregnant woman, nor 
are they aware that normal motherly 
instincts are included in the decision for 
abortion 


portray 


oring 


Laura MacInnes 
Boulder, Colorado 


ABORTION AND THE DEATH PENALTY 
popular cause now, and 
the shout ust capital punishment 
has died down to a whisper; however 
there seems to be a relationship. I am 
against the death penalty for criminals 
and 1 am also against the death penalty 
for an unwanted embryo. In answer 
to Harold A. McAllister’s demand. that 
antiahortionists prove their good faith 
by offering to support unwanted chil 
dren (The Playboy Forum, January), let 
me say that I will be 
price, provided № 
convicied murderers left 


Abortion is 


ng ag 


lad to pay that 

pport 
live by abo. 
lition of the death penalty. T 
rather support a baby than а criminal 
any day. 


is willing to s 


would 


Dennis H. Verbeck 

Chicago, Illinois 
The struggle against capital punish 
ment, contrary to your impression, is 
very active (sce this month's “Forum 
Newsfront") and ihe U.S. Supreme 
Court is now considering cases determin 
ing the future of the death penalty in 
America—as it is also deliberating on 
cases challenging the constitutionality 
of abortion laws. We see a relationship, 
100. A society that has renounced the 
vindictive killing of criminals and has 


acknowledged women's righi to control 


their bodies 


ill be far more humane 
than ours. has been, It is consistent to 
favor abortion, since, in our opinion, 
it does not constitute murder, and to 
oppose capital punishment, which docs 


IN FRONT OF THE KIDS 
On the question of whether or not 
childre 


are psychologically harmed by 
secing their parents in the act of sexual 
intercourse, I agree with Michèle F 
Rinehart (The Playboy Forum, Janu 
ary), who wrote: "In my opinion, a 
child exposed to 
would be a lot less likely to grow up 


sexual expression 


The problem with 


most fent acar rates is 
they're made for. 
rent a car companies. 


People rent cars for different reasons, 
for different lengths of time, and to travel 
different distances. 

Most rent a car companies don't take 
this into account. They have a few standard 
rates they try to fit everyone into. 

Having a few rates makes life simple 
for them. But itcan make life very expensive 
for the people who rent from them. 

At Hertz, we believe that the only fair 
way to rent cars is to rent them at rates that 
relate to how people actually use cars. 

And we do just that. 
Our regular daily rate. 

Our daily rate can vary from place 
toplace. But it always includes gas. In fact, 
many times we cost no more than the so- 
called bargain places. 

*Our weekend and holiday rates. 

For $11.47 a day and 76 a mile, we'll 
rent you a ear from Friday noon to 
Monday noon, or certain holidays (2-day 
minimum). 

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The $11.47 rate applies here as well. 

It's good for 7 or more consecutive days. 
*Our new pay-nothing-per-mile rates. 

If you're driving а long distance for 
4 days or more these rates can save you 
money over our regular rates. You can drive 
allthe miles you want without paying a 
mileage charge. For 4 days, it's $75; for 
more days, it's more. 


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for a minimum of one week for only $79. 

All we ask with these rates is that you 
return the car where you rented it. 

*Our $7.47 Pinto rate. 

Our Pinto rate is our least expensive 
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you ean rent one any day of the week for as 
many days as you want. 

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pick up the car in the suburbs and drop it at 
the airport. We even have a rate for a car if 
your own сат is stolen. 

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69 


PLAYBOY 


70 


matadjusice one reared in а repics- 
sive home.” However, I think the best 
advice is ıo proceed with caution. Prac 
cally every adult now living in che U.S. 
has been raised to be somewhat emba 
rassed and secretive about sex. Those 
who have learned to tod, such 
as Sexual Freedom League type 1 
those who try to be totally open about 


it, such as a Florida couple who had 


ercourse in front of their son, may 
be just as uptight as more convention 

lolks and are simply overreacting to their 
own uptightness. АШ of these attitudes, 


which are basically unhealthy. get com- 
municated to children. Communicating 
по attitude at all. letting children's feel- 


develop naturally, would be beuer 
than communicating negative attitudes. 
Let today's parents not be too eager to 
expose their children to sex in the home. 
T. Fisher 

Miami, Florida 


HALF OF MARRIAGE 
The woman from Chenoa, Illinois, who 
wrote that the true sexual desires of 
women are at least as strong as those of 
men (The Playboy Forum, December 
1971). was Most of the 
conversations Гүс had with other house- 
wives have been about sex. Personally 
I'm пос ashamed of the strength of my 
desires, nor was anyone else in my family 
We were raised to believe that sex is 
of what marriage is all abou 
Mrs. J. Weaver 

Anaheim, C: 


t 


iles 


ОМ HANGING LOOSE 

As a professional ma d bachek 
J find the greatest pleasure in relation 
ships that just happen and that Мм as 
long as they are destined to. When I go 
out for the day and walk around the 
ride the cable cars and play tourist, 


city 
nother person enjoying the 

- И that person happens 

to be а woman and things work out, we 


may end up at my apariment. Ag: 


things just happen fom there. If the re- 
last 


lationship grooves, it several 
»onths. Or 1 may never se 
When one tries too hard and plans too 
much, the results are usually disippoint- 
ng. 1 believe that many men go through 
lie hunting bed partners with all the 
ferocity, dedicuion and ingenuity of a 
hunter stalking a trophy bighor 
When they score. they are proud of the 
achievement and when they don’t. they 
(eel like failures. Sex is just а game, and 
it сап be beautiful and enjoyable, with 
по one the loser. My advice is: Hang 
loose, fellows. Don't try so hard 
(Name withheld by request) 
San Francisco, Californi 


y 


sheep. 


THAT OLD DOUBLE STANDARD 

> Greer (The Playboy Inte 
ied an impor 
male relations when 


atively nu- 
merous partners, promiscuitys а mean- 

i stent cries by 
the 
old hang-ups are still alive and well. As 
an undergraduate ас the University of 
Wisconsin, 1 was id practitioner of 
It was a personal policy 
icluded good will with malice to- 
ward none. To my knowledge, no on 
with whom I was involved ever suffered 
because of my sexual philosophy or prac 


т epithets, pig, slut and whore. I 
was puzzled and hurt by the moralisti 
and hypocritical attitudes of the suppos- 
edly emancipated college men of the late 
Sixties and Seventies. 
Like Germaine Greer 
women, I don't agree with your philos- 
ophy entirely, and а тап wearing a 
blazer or ring stamped with the Rabbit 
insignia would strike me as having а 
identity pr 
a loud and consistent voice criticizing the 
of the double standard, But 
bout many of you 
four long and 
king my chanvinistic 
collegiate sex partners to read PLAYBOY 
instead of just looking at the pictures. 
(Name withheld by request) 
Milwaukee, Wisconsin 


nd many other 


FOR A SINGLE STANDARD 


ation. employ- 
ment, аа н Social Security 
and in many other The orga 
tion includes persons of a 
penalized because they are 
greatest efforts at present 
ending tax discrimination poli- 
licians have shown sympathy for our 
cause and, although we have thus far 
seen more talk than action, there are 
about 140 members of the House of Kepre- 
sentatives and five of the Senate who are 
actively working on the problem. S. P, U., 
meanwhile. lias members 
our goal is national organization, We are 
asking single people everywhere to w 
to their Congressmen and Senators, de- 
manding i 
is practiced a 
tion is only a beginning. 

Henry R. Couture, President 

Single People United 

Providence, Rhode Island 


VIEW FROM AUSTRIA 


For the past ten years, my wife and I 
have been reading rLaynoy, and we lind 
з engaging source of U.S. legal 

d social information. You may he inter- 
ested in the way we Austrians have те 
formed our criminal law. After more 
debate, the Austrian parlia 


thas made the following changes in 
the criminal code: 


s no longer 
пр persons over 


а crime berween consenii 
18 years ol age 
(2) Sodomy is no longer a crime. 

(3) Adultery is no longer a. penal. of 
fense if the spouses have not lived со 
gether for at least one yea 

(4) Physical erotic contact short of inter 
course between a married person and a 
third party is no longer a criminal offense 
at all. 

Austria is a country steeped in reli- 
gious tradition, with 92 percent of the 
population Roman Catholics and thc 
rest mainly Lutherans. The Austrian 
Catholic bishops opposed the reforms ар 
to the last moment before parliamentary 
decision, Nevertheless, the vote was 157 
to six avor of the new code, The 
original bill had called for completely re 
moving adultery fror 
offenses, but many ta 
morilists couldn't agre 
adultery entirely from the criminal code 
seemed too revolutionary to them. Fol- 
lowing the principle that a criminal 
code should be approved by a clear ma 
jority in parliament, proponents of the 
reforms agreed to à compromise 

The next undertaking of the Austrian 
government, by Federal Minister of Jus- 
tice Dr. Christian Broda and by the 
parliament, will be to change the anti- 
quated Austrian abortion 

Dr. H: nann 
Attorney at Law 
Vienna, Austria 


PROBLEMS IN LIVING 
Regarding The Playboy Forum's con 
tinuing discussion of involuntary psychi 
ric intervention, let me offer my own 
experience: While in high school i 
1966, I became increasingly bothered by 
the boredom and trivia of classroom 
procedure and decided to drop out 
My mother thought I was crazy to do such 
a thing and sought the help of a psy- 
chiatrist to straighten me out. I never 
complained of any mental illness, but 1 
was told that I needed help, nevertheless. 
Over the next four years, I underwent 
more than 18 insulin and electroshock 
treatments during three periods of invol 
ary commitment to a local private 
1 left this prisonlike environ 
discharge diagnosis of 
severe.” The psy 
salted could h 


recognized that I was not displaying 
symptoms of mental illness but was hav 

g nonmedical problems in livi 
could have refused to 
he did not is typi 
the zeal of institutional psychiatrists to 
transform moral and political difficulties 
into symptoms of mental illness fit for 
treatment only by omnicompetent doctors 

I acknowledge my very deep indebt 
edness to Dr. Thomas S. булу. whose 
books have provided me with both con- 
firmation and illumination. My own 


y opinion, of 


шаху 


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PLAYBOY 


72 


experiences support the validity of Dr. 
Szasz's arguments against involuntary 
psychiatric intervention and involuntary 
mental. hospitalization. 
David A. Schroth 
St. Louis, Missouri 


PLAYBOY IN PRISON 
After many requests from the inmates 

over the years, PLAYnoy finally is being 
sold in our prison commissary, thanks to 
the approval of Bennet J. Cooper, the 
new commissioner of corrections for the 
state of Ohio. We applaud Cooper's act 
and feel that he should be commended 
for his conviction that we, too, are 
human and that publications such as 
лувоу should have been made avail- 
able to us long ago. 

George E. Hakaim 

Ohio State Reformatory 

Mansfield, Ohio 


CRIME AND REWARD 

At present, society's chief 
g with the criminal i 
usually by fine or 
However, behaviors 
discovering that punishment does not 
work, As B. F. Skinner remarks in his 
most recent book, Beyond Freedom and 
Dignity, 
ished is not thereby si mpl) less inclined 
to behave in a best, he 
learns how to avoid punishment.” 

It is time we looked at this problem 
not from the angle of what to do after 
the crime is committed but instead from 
the viewpoint of what to do to pre- 
vent the crime. Reward has been found 
10 be much more effective than. punish- 
ment as a means of conditioning be- 
havior. Criminals are people whose life 
experiences have conditioned them to 
helieve—and to act on the belief—that 
ssault, robbery and violence are rewa 
because they are effective way 
a what they desire Parents 
schools should reward children for desi 
ble behavior, such as cooperativeness, 
acelulness and generosity. Similarly, 
ams should be instituted 10 recon- 
ion, by reward, those who are now 
ls to adopt more desirable be- 
havior patterns 

И society takes these steps, we will all 
th drasti 


to punish 
incarceration. 


l psychologists are 


RIGHT TO TRIAL TRANSCRIPTS 
I was attorney in a case 


decided 
by the United Stues Supreme Court. 


Research for the brief we presented was 
done with the help of a grant from 
the Playboy Foundation. The issue was 
whether poor people convicted of any 
penal offense should have a right to free 
transcripts of their trials, if they need 
such transcripts as the ba 
appeals. A Chicago court convicted my 


client, Jack L. Mayer, an indigent medi- 
cal student, of two nonfelonious viola- 
tions of Chicago ordinances during the 
Days of Rage demonstrations in October 
1969—disorderly conduct and interfe 
h the police—and sentenced him 
500, He appealed on grounds of 


to pay 
insufficient evidence and prosecutor 


misconduct and asked for а transc 
prove these points. Illinois law provides 
for free transcripts for persons convicted 
of felonies, but not of lesser offenses. 
The isue was of paramount impor 
tance to the administration of justice іш 
the lower criminal courts where, as 
studies show, over 95 percent of all cases 
are tried or otherwise disposed of. Be- 
ise of the lack of appellate-couit. seru- 
tiny of poor people's trials—caused by 
their lack of a right to a free transcript 
—injustices are porpenared daily on the 
ied dispo: 


As the. Preside 


Commission on 


ion of Justice state 


the lower crim 
y sees at 


courts ordina 
little resemblance to those carried 
out under traditional notions of 
due process. There is usually no 
court reporter unless the defendant 
can afford to pay one. One result is 
п informality 

that would not ша 
felony trial. Rules of evidence are 
largely ignored. 


This commission, after reviewing the 
conditions in our nation's lower crimi- 
nal courts, was "shocked by what it has 
scen.” Its impressions са 
daily in our own courts i 

After briefing and argument, the Su- 
preme Court found for my c d 
established the principle that 
defendants must be furnished with fi 
records that are complete enough to 
form the basis of including 
a complete transcript, be 
necessiry—regardless of whether the of- 
fense charged is serious or petty. You 
y proud. as Tam, to have 
ated in this enterprise 

Henry F. Field 
Attorney at Law 
Chicago, Illinois 


CUN CONTROL AND KENYON BALLEW 

Dave Scot's assertion that overzealous 
IRS Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Di- 
vision agents, and not the 1968 Gun 
Control Act, were responsible for put- 
ting a bullet іп Kenyon F. Ballew's 
1 (The Playboy Forum, 


paranoia, For it is paranoia that leads 
Scott to characterize firearms as "danger- 
ous, potentially lethal weapons,” and its 
the same unreasoning fear that assumes a 
peaceful citizen is dangerous just be- 
cause he happens to be a gun hobbyist. 
Yet по one was endangered by Kenyon 
Ballew, and he was never involved 


violence until strangers battered down 
his door and put а bullet in his head 
when he tied to defend his home, Ironic, 
isn’t it, when a man's life is threatened 
by the very persons who arc supposed to 
be protecting it? 

What's frightening is that this was all 
aw, and could happen 
ny of us who enjoy collecting 
guns—as long as the Gun Conuol Act is 
on the books There is a need for ade- 
quate regulation of the transfer and use of 
firearms, but this law won't provide it in 
society. Although there un- 
doubtedly ls who 
arrested for violating the act, an increas- 
ing number of persons who have never 


sa 


nctioned by 


again to 


a democrat 


committed isocial action are like- 
ly to be indicted. The only way to 
achieve justice for them is to repeal the 
Gun Control Act and substitute а law 


that protects peace 
hobbyists. 


ıl and honest gun 


B. Anderson. 
Minneapolis, М 


innesota 


FORT LAUDERDALE FOLLIES 
Fort Lauderdale policeman, Gerald 
Smith, was suspended for five days for 
writing а leer to the For! Lauderdale 
News criticizing the city commission, At 
that time, city man Robert Bubier 
claimed that Smith violated civil 
service rules that fe 
from using abusive language toward gov- 
cmment. сај. Thus, Smith was pe- 
nalized for assuming that he had the same 
civil rights that the Constitution pro 
vides for other citizens. 

Subsequently it came to the city com 
mission's attention that Smith was li 
with a woman to whom he was 


ager 
had 


not 
married. His superiors tried to get him 


to give up the arrangement, but Smith 
refused. Soon thereafter he was fired for 
conduct unbecoming a police officer. 

The Fort Lauderdale Civil Service 
Board has since upheld Smith's appeal 
that he did not act abusively whei 
he wrote the letter criticizing the city 
commission. The board concluded that 
the fiveday suspension never occurred 
and Smith will receive full pay for those 
five days. Smith's lawyer now plans to go 
to court to have his client reinstated as a 
policeman. 

It seems а g justice, in the light 
of today’s morality, that a man can bc 
persecuted for not observing yesterday's 
code of conduct. 


Richard A, Dunne 
t Lauderdale, Florida 


THE LAW IS THE LAW 
I trust your statement that the bump. 
er sticker reading IF YOU DONT LIKI 
COPS, NEXT TIME YOU'RE IN TROUBLE CALL 
A mirre may not be "such a bad idea’ 
an attempt at humor. Certainly you 
don't pretend our society can exist with- 
out law or law enforcement. Next time 
(continued on. page 211) 


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PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: HOWARD COSELL 


a candid conversation with the fustian oracle of sport 


о the 
has earned ап enviable reputation. for 
“bringing to the light of public scruti- 
ny" as he might put it, sports’ most 
controversial dealings and misdealings. 
He has also earned an unenviable repu- 
talion as an opinionated son of а bitch, 
As а result of both, Cosell has become 
the best-known most listened-to 
sports commentator in the business 
Cosell’s pontificating commentaries and 
melodramatic inquisitions—his trade- 
marks—have made him a topic of hot 
debate among athletes as well, whose 
opinions of his worth run the gamut 
from Joe Namath's glowing appraisal, 
"Hes the besi there is" to Dick Butkus 
succinct estimate, 7 Horseshii!" 

Submitting to an interview with Cosell 
has been likened to opting for brain 
surgery without anesthesia, yet even his 
detractors ave forced to admit that he 
has been the one sportscaster able 10 gain 
the confidence of spori? most icono- 
clastic performers. In fact, a good deal 
of Cosell's notoriety stems from his sup- 
port for such maverick athletes as Nu- 
math, former Cleveland footballer Jim 
Brown, Muhammad Ali, Tommie Smith 
and John Carlos—boih of whom raised 
their fits in black-power salutes when 
presented with medals at the 1968 Olym- 
pics—and, most recently, Duane Thomas 
of the Dallas Cowboys. Says Cosell, in 
his distinctively lilting Brooklyne: 


past 16 years, Howard Cosell 


and 


“Coach Tom Landry said he thinks the 
Cowboys could win another Super Bowl 
withoul Thomas, who. in my opinion, 
just happens to be the best running back 
in pro football. Ға like to see Landry 
dry it” The observation was typical of 
Cosell's penchant for direct confronta- 
tion with the sports establishment, and 
whether he's regarded аз an irritant or 
ап inspiration, such remarks have caused 
much of the American public to regard 
him as the last polysyllabic word on 
athletic endeavor, For a man who had 
never confronted а microphone profes- 
sionally before the age of 36, Cosell has 
clearly come а long wa 

The son of a асай clothier, he was 
born in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, 
on March 25, 1920. The family moved 
North a few years later and Cosell grew 
up in Brooklyn, where life was not with- 
out its difficulties. “1 remember having 
to climb a back fence and run because 
the kids from Saint Theresa’s parish 


age of Hitler, 
Cosell was a student at New York Un 
sity, attended NYU Law School and was 
admitted to the bar at. 21. “Га never 
really n^ he 
has said. "I guess the only reason 1 went 


апе lo become a lai 


through with it was because my father 
worked so hard to have a son who'd be 
a professional. I remember him going to 


the bank every three months to renew a 
loan that allowed me to stay in schoo! 
Before Cosell was fully decided on a 
career, however, America had entered 
World War Two and in February 1942, 
he enlisted as а рише in the Army 
Transportation Corps. 

After four and a half years, Cosel left 
the as a major—and in 1916 set 
up legal offices on Broad Street іп Man- 
hattan, where he became friendly with 
another new tenant and fledgling bar- 
rister, labor negotiator Theodore Kheel. 
For the next ten years, Cosell steadily 
built up his practice, and his clients 
came to include people in theater, radio, 
television and sports (he served as Willie 
Мауху counsel). Through a series of ac- 
quaintances, he was asked to incorpo- 
rale little-league baseball in New York— 
hich he did—and soon afterward, he 
as contacted һу АВС Radio, which 
wanted to use the name Little League 
in connection with a Satinday-morning 
publicservice program it was planning. 
Cosell agreed on condition that the show 
be noncommercial. Asked to host the show 
without pay, Cosell said yes. The format 
of the program called for the Little 
Leaguers to ask questions of the pros. 
Cosell wound up writing the questions, if 
one can imagine cight-year-olds mouthing 
supercilious Cosellisms. The 15-minute 
program, projected for а six-w 
mer run, was eventually expanded to 


vice 


t sum- 


The importance that our society at- 
taches to sport is incredible. After all, is 
football a game or a religion? The people 
of this country have allowed sports to 
get completely out of hand 


“I would say that Don Meredith's erratic 
march to the Emmy, the most treasured 
of all broadcast awards, in his first year 
of TV work has to be regarded as one of 
the great feats of modern times.” 


“1 was right to back Muhammad Ali, 
but it caused me major enmity in many 
areas of this nation. The overwhelming 
majority of mail asked ABC to ‘get that 
nigger-loving Jew bastard off the air?” 


75 


PLAYBOY 


76 


а half hour and lasted five and a half 
years. 

By 1956, the serie? popularity led 
ABC to offer Cosell a professional 
broadcasting job, His six-week contract 
called for ten fiveminule weekend 
shows, for which he was paid a below- 
scale $25 each. The following year, his 
“Sports Focus” became a summer re- 
placement for “Kukla, Fran & Ollie”; 
it lasted 18 months and remains the only 
nightlime sportscommentary show сост 
attempted on TV. Gosell’s radio audi- 
ence, meanwhile, continued 10 grow, and 
in 1961 he went on the nightly ABC-TV 
New York news, where he remained until 
Tune of last year, when he asked to leave 
and was replaced by former baseball 
player Jim Bouton. 

During those years, Cosell formed his 
оит production company and produced 
such sports specials as “Run to Daylight,” 
a study of the Green Bay Packers under 
Vince Lombardi, which is still the most 
highly acclaimed TV sports documentary 
ever made. While he was thus occupied, 
Cosell also began appearing regularly on 
“Wide World of Sports,” where his 
haughtily contentious analyses of heavy- 
weight boxing caused both the TV ral- 
ings and his audiences’ blood pressure to 
rise. When ABC decided in 1970 to gam- 
ble on televising pro football on Mon- 
day nights, the natural choice was Cosell 
as half of а very colorful team of "color" 
commentators; the other half was former 
Dallas Cowboy quarterback Don Mere- 
dith. Although a well-known commodity 
then, Cosell has since become а house- 
hold name and now not just New York- 
ers but fans all over America have a 
chance to jeer him regularly. 

In an effort to find out whether he's 
really as mean—or as knowledgcable—as 
he likes people to think, PLAYBOY sent 
former Associate. Editor Lawrence Lin- 
derman to interview Cosell. Reports 
Linderman, “The first thing that struck 
me was his appearance. No one else could 
possibly resemble Howard Cosell. A 
shade over six feet tall, he's all angles and 
slouch; depending on which way he de- 
cides to aim his torso, his legs seem to 
be either two feet in front or in back 
of the rest of him. His features, high- 
lighted by a long arrow-shaped nose, are 
also sloping and angular and he is blessed 
with a face that only his loving wife 
and two children could find appealing. 

“Though he likes to give the im- 
pression of being the original tough- 
minded hard-ass, Cosell is an emotional 
soft touch for any underdog. То а very 
real extent, he feels he is a champion 
of the downtrodden, and to а very real 
extent, he is. Socially, however, he is 
something else again. When he enters a 
room, Cosell—an outrageous show-off— 
makes his presence felt immediately, 
usually through put-ons that сап unin- 


tentionally insult people who don't 
know him. Introduced to an attrac- 
tive woman with her husband in tow, he 
once said, ‘You're a girl of rare and 
great beauty, my dear; it must thorough- 
ly break your heart to know that you've 
so obviously married beneath yourself” 
But he can also encounter an old friend 
like Muhammad Ali and convulse him 
for ten minutes with a lecture on how he 
would still be an unknown if not for 
the TV build-up given him by the master, 
He's been known to conclude this 
straight-faced peroration by eraning his 
neck upward at Ali and adding, 71 made 
you, Muhammad, and 1 can break you." 

“When nol clowning, Cosell 
spends a good deal of his time making 
and keeping himself an authentic expert 
оп sports, especially football. The night 
Fran Tarkenion was traded to Minneso- 
ta by the Giants, Cosell immediately 
began calling various players and foot- 
ball insiders 10 get their opinions of the 
trade. Then he cabbed down to Dun- 
can's, an East Side pub owned by Dun- 
MacCalman, the Giants Tucker 
Frederickson and Jormer New York Jet 
Bill Mathis, to discuss the irade with 
all the players gathered there that night. 

“Cosell probably works far 100 hard. 
The hectic schedule he maintains catches 
up with him by carly evening. When- 
ever I stretched our taping sessions be- 
yond an hours length, his voice would 
begin to crack and there was no mistak- 
ing how tired the man was—to the point 
where his hands stayted to shake. What 
makes Howard run? 71 earn а lot of mon- 
ey speaking at dinners he says, ‘but 1 
really could make twice as much as 1 do 
апа Ға still have 10 turn down most 
of the invitations. 1 guess the real reason 
1 go out to тесі the public is to by to 
offset the image 1 have of being such а 
bastard? Cosell’s remark provided а logi- 
cal opening for our interview, which 1 
decided to begin as he might one of his 
own.” 


he's 


can 


іе 


PLAYBOY: We're talking to Howard Cosell, 
beloved albeit bele: red dean of tele- 
vision sportscasters, Tell us. Howard, is 
the acer! d abrasi imer in which 
you conduct. yoursell on the air a profes- 
al peromality—or do you seriou: 
expect the American people to believe 
that you're that way all the time? 

COSELL: That's not a professional m 
But 7 don't think I'm 
brasive. 1 haven't. 
recently heard anyone call Mike Wal- 
lace acerbic and abrasive, nor Нату 
Reasoner, nor Dan Rather, nor Walter 
Cronkite, Why not? We all know why 
not: As newsmen, they're expected to 
ask critical questions relating to issues 
and figures il 
right to know about. Well. Т 


tentionally acer 


the same thing in sports, but it's a field 


in which straight, honest reporting has 
never really been attempted. Instead, 
people in this country have grown up 
with the carefully propagated notion 
that sport is somehow different, that it's 
cged sanctuary from real life, a 
glass world unto itself. 

Through the years. the legend that 
owners have fostered, that the various 
sports commissioners have endorsed and 
that even my own industry has seen fit 
to perpetuate is a fairy tale in three 
parts: first, that every athlete is a shin 
ng example of noble young 
at every athletic compe 
is inherently pure; and, third, that every 
owner is a selfless, dedicated public serv- 
ant concerned only with the public сп- 
tertainment and utterly unconcerned 
with profit. That's been the myth of 
American sport and а lot of people have 
been indoctrinated by it, particularly 
those over 40 years of age. 

So I'm shock patment to them. 
because T won't let them live with the 
legend. Young people. however, don't 
buy the fairy tale of sport, nor should 
they be expected to. Young people know 
that some athletes drink, some are on 
igs. some are racists, amd that they 
ап go to any street in own o 
nd find it there, In. other 
that sport is just part 
I life, that it's human. 
1 microcosm, and that the very 
maladies and virtues that exist in society 
must exist in sport. It's as simple as that. 
PLAYBOY: You say that sport is life in 
microcosm, but you've also said that it's 
“the toy department of 1 Which do 
believe? 

COSELL: I suggest that they aren't in 
conflict. Sport is the toy department of 
human life in this sense: It doesn't really 
matter who wins or loses a. game. The 
contest in the arena fulfills the primary 
function of sport, which is escape. Jn the 
face of the stress and complexities of daily 
existence, people have to have escape. 
PLAYBOY: Could by n 
ing into sport the kinds of wor 
s that plague so many 

life, you make it less than а 
pe—and therefore partially 
what you feel is its primary 
function? 

Costi: That's entirely possible, I sup- 
pose, but that doe: I'm wroi 
to do it. T feel u y job as a journ: 
ist is to be constantly concerned with the 
vital issues in sport. One vivid example 
would be the three and a half years of 
idleness that were forced upon Muh 
dl Ali. As а lawyer who practiced lor 
years, 1 knew that, consti 
Ali had to win. 1 honestly believe th 
much of the antagonism toward 
relates back to the Ali case, 

PLAYBOY: Why? 

costi: Because I took an unpopular 


second, t 


you 


be d troduc 


ies and 
reas of 


me 


Wear your home uniform 
when you Ну home on United. 


For the first time on any airline you can fly 
at half-fare on your military ID card alone. 


| | needed. Just your active duty ID card for 
L= half-fare when space is available, or 
%-fare for confirmed space. 

We fly to more hometowns than anyone and most 
likely yours is one of them. So make yourself at home 
on the way home. 

In the friendly skies. 


United Air Lines. 


You’re with a friend in the friendly skies. 


United Air Lines, Inc.1972 


= 


PLAYBO 


78 


stand. Many people were offended by 


the idea that a boxing champ 
dedare himself to be 


objector. But that was a 
courts to decide. My support of A 
to do only with the fact that his cha 
pionship and his right to earn a living 
had been unfairly taken from him. On 
April 98, 1967, at 701 San Jacinto 
Street іп Houston, Texas, Muhammad 
vived in to a call for mili- 
[used to take the 
€ made 
member of the United States Army. 
citizen he had a right to do that, 
citizen he knew he would have 
to face the consequences. Under the law, 
if he were deemed a valid conscientious 
objector, he'd be excused from ary 
service. If not, he could be sent to jail. 
Within a matter of minutes alter Ali 
chose not to step forward, Edwin Dook 
ey, a politically appointed boxing co 
missioner of New York State, stripped 
him of his championship 
license to fight—in other 
right to earn a living, 

Mr. Dooley, а former Con, 
doing the popular thing. But there 
had been no arraignment, there had 
been no grand-jury hearing, no indict- 
ment, no trial, no conviction, no appeal 
to a higher court, and in a matter such 
this, with the Supreme Court likely to 
hear such а ‚ there had been no 
appeal to the Count of last resort. In 
other words, due process of law had not 
even been initiated, let alone exhausted 

and the Fifth Amendment of 
the Constitution of the United States, 
the fundamental law of this land, no 
person may be deprived of life, liberty 
or property without due process of 1 
Secondly, in all the years of Muhammad 
Ali's enlorced idleness, the York 
w 


p and ol h 


words, of his 


unde 


New 


Mi couldn't fight 
and, since he was stripped of his right to 
leave the country, he couldn't fight over- 
s, either. 

Dut du 


ws, New York and 
wing men to box 
who had been deserters from the Army. 
So when the Ali case came before the 
Southern District New York Federal 
Court, Judge Walter Mansfield dete 
mined that Ali had been denied hi 
ghts under the 14th Amendment of the 
Constitution, which provides equal. pro- 
der the Thus, АН got 
ight to carn his livelihood, The 
whole story s ly chapter in Am 
can history and it points up а lesson we 
ned a couple of centuries ago but 
which America has to keep le: 
is popular is not always right and 
at is right is not always popular. I was 
right to back Muhammad, but it cost me. 


on u 
k the 


PLAYBOY: Did you suller financially be- 


cause of 


t all, but it caused 
in mi areas of 
g that period, thou: 


upon thousands of letters were w 


me 
this 
ids 
uen 
з the 
1 1970. 
ail typi- 
cally asked he American. Broadcast 


Company to "get that niggerloving Jew 
4 ой the air.” The Mi episode 


also triggered threats on my lile. I'm 
10 be dramatic. but the [iet r 
mains that 1 received a number of 
phone calls warning me that I was 
about to be killed. Occasionally, the no- 

n of a sports annou i 
people to such a degree sri as 
ludicrous. but when 1 reconsider the Ali 
case, its clear that the involved 
was hardly frivolous and does indeed 
count for the hostility many misguid- 
ed people h 
PLAYBOY: Why are you even more 
popular with sportswriters than with the 
public? 
cosett: "There are very definite reasons 
that motivate members of what I call 
the old-world sporting press to attack 
me. Most of them are not men of educa 
tion, and it hasn't been an casy th 
for these people to see life pass the 
ін philosophical terms they don’t ev 
understand. The old-world press relates 
to an ста that's past. Most of these men 
began as—and still are—baseball writers, 
and the abide the diminution in 

nportance of their beloved sport. Base- 
ball simply doesn't hold the place it 
once did within the spectrum of sport, 
and whereas the baseball writer's beat 
was once Ihe most prestigious job in 
sporis department, it has now shifted 10 
the men covering football. 

Further 


iot 


issue 


for me. 


asel; 


the oldworld sportswriters 


don't u nd many of the conem 
porary figures in sport today. Dick 
Young of the New York Daily News. a 


man who has devoted 
ıs of hi 
ly. | 


the past three 
lile to downing me almost 
ings about Ali that are 
ively antithetical to my own, nor 
have he and other members of the old- 
world press ever taken kindly to Joc 
Namath, another controversia 
been known to support 
coterie of newspaper sportswriters who 
don't care for me and work. But as 
Harry Truman once said, “If you cant 
stand the heat, get out of the kitche 
Vm not about to get out of the kitchen, 
especially when I consider the sources 
E the heat; the background, educati 
ıd perception of my more rabid с 
just don't stand up to my own. If that 
makes me egotistical, ГИ accept the 
PLAYBOY: You seem to have earned a 
good deal of enmity g ТҮ sports 
nnouncers as well as among sporis- 


ез 


prised when Ray 


writers. Were you sui 
Scott of CBS attacked you, in The Detroit 

¢ Press, for bringing to football 
air of false controversy" 
COSELL: One virtue of th Y 
be that after reading it, people will 
think twice before calling me relentless 
Ive known Ray Scott for many years 
Hes a decent п nd a competent 
sports announcer for CBS. Scott is not 
malicious and he's 
the world of sports 
don't agree with a single thi 
in that article and I don't think even 
he docs. But I can understand his saying 
id, lor TV sports announcing 


ı very few jobs, many of wl 
i opportunism, luck. 
nd only occasionally 
through what I like to think of as being 
some dedication, perseverance, br. 
and talent. That's why I've gotten to 
the top in my industry. One of the many 
clichés hat Alvin. Pete Rozelle 
uttered turns out to be mue: If you 
successful, expect to be attacked. 
PLAYBOY: How much of the success of 
ABC's Monday Night Football do vou 
think is attributable to you, Don Mere: 
dith and Frank Gifford rather Шап to 
the sport itsell? 

COSELL: One could probably debate that 
subject forever. The best test, according 
to Roone Arledge, president of АВС 
Sports, is how we do when we broadcast 
lackluster games. Which brings up 
other avenue of attack we were subject 
to—the idea t we had an irresistible 
eup of great games. Were the [ets 


has 
е 


and the St. Louis Cardinals а great 
match-up? In that second. game. of the 
year, we had two teams that had lost 


their openers. the Jets without Namath 
md the Cardinals obviously with 
ig for them with or without their 
k. Pittsburgh 


very 


ıs. Kansas City 


fs scored 28 points in the sec 
ner to end a game that was a 


ond qi 
misn 
Dicgo: 
three up 


ich to begin with. St. Louis at San 
ich team went into the game at 
nd five down. That’s a lively 


prospect? When Miami beat the Chica 


go Bears 3d to 3, Ше game was over in the 
first quarter. But our ratings held up lor 
all of those games. so maybe th 
chemistry that's right for the country i 
Dandy Don Meredith, Humble Howard 
Cosell and Fauliless Frank Gilford. Aud 


eds 


if there is, we're not going to apologize 
for it. 
PLAYBOY: There's no reason you should 


yer you've often. inveighed 
instant t 


against the 
xks 
television sports announcers. Giflord | 
had the benefit « s of experience 
but doesn't Meredith qualify as а dlas- 
sic case of jock turned. broadcaster? 

cose: Meredith's greatest value. hasn't 
really been in terms of knowledgeability 


nsformation of 


to 


©1972 North American Philips Corporation, 
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PLAYBOY 


because he happened to play the game. 
The mere fact that а man has played 
football, basketball or baseball has noth- 
ing to do with the requirements of such 
job. Don's value as а sports comm 
tor lies in his ability to say things like, 
Vell, Roger Staubach is now four for 
four in the passing department, He's 
completed two to his team and two to 
the other t comes over as such 
shock compared with usual jock com 
ntary that people up. Don can 
get away with it because he’s country, 
corn-pone, middle America. Of course. if 
Howard Cosell said the same thing, the 
reaction would be, "Who docs that vi- 
cious son of a bitch think he i? Why, 
he's never even. played the gume 
PLAYBOY: What was your 
you found out you w 
teamed with Meredith? 

When Roone Arledge asked me 
ut working with Dandy. E told him 
I'd be delighted to. d known Meredith 
when he played for the Cowboys—not 
intimately, but Id responded to him 
personally. He's a delightful guy and I 
thought we could work well together, 
but I never dreamed it would work out 
as well as it has. Keith Jackson was the 
third man in the booth ou and 
anouncers 
country, certainly close to being as good 
as Curt Gowdy of NBC, whom 1 con 
sider the best play-by-play announcer in 
the business. Don't ask me who I think 
is the best color man in the business. 
PLAYBOY: Howard, who do you think 
the best color n the business? 

nk you for not asking me. 1 
I'm the best, for 1 have 


аса 


onc of the finest 


а sense of the athlete as a human being 
and not as а piece of cereal-bos mythol- 
ову. My relationship with the m 
play the game—all ¢ i 
unparalleled in this 
bring information about 
public. But at the same time, because of 
my relationships not just with the ath- 
letes but also with the coaches and g 
eral m; Т have an overall view of 
sport as ther frame of reference. 
And you can add to these the irreyer- 
ch 1 generally approach 
sport. Irreverence is probably the made- 
k of our ght telecasts— 
why Dandy Don Mere 
dith weight in gold. 
PLAYBOY: Was Meredith confident. that. 
he could make the switch from quiter- 
bac nnouncing? 

coset: No. Im 
before the bro 
did a dry run of the first pres 
y at Dew 


country, 


them to 


Monday 


quit 
We 


our producerdirector, both of whom 
were sharply critical of Meredith. D: 
dy, who'd had no broadcasting exp 
ence at all, was very upset at the session, 
but for other reasons. He is a terribly 
i ingly creative and 
intelligent, who's been beset by a ue- 
mendous number of personal problems, 
including a couple of marr 


of a beautiful Іше girl named Н, 
‘ho was born blind and retarded. 1 
dy had to fly back to Dallas the night we 
were reviewing that tape, because thc 
very next day he w malizi 
the child; so he m 
here he was being strongly criticized. 
He fully realized he wasn't a proles 
sional ann 
finally he siid, "Look, fe 
really my bag, and I don't even know 
that much about football. 1 only know 
the Xs and Os Mr. Landry taught me 
at Dallas, So PI just le I quickly 
took Roone and Chet ad said, 


uncer by a long shot 


aside 
Listen, Meredith can work out. Leave 


h 1 then 
ha k with t the Warwick 
Hotel across the street. When we were 
ted, I said, “Don, 1 know you're keel- 
g down, but I think you'd be crazy to 
leave. You've got a style that's n 
you've got your own kind of fl 
you're a personality. People are going to 
you. And you've got something 
те. TI lead you every step of the 
1 сап name 60 old-world sports 
writers just waiting to put me down. ГІ 
м all the heat, you'll get all the light 
nd in the long run we're both gonna 
win.” And Dandy looked at me and said 
with his usual eloquence, “Gol dang it, 
How. I'm with уа!” 

PLAYBOY: You make а lot of jokes on the 
г about Meredith's career with the 
Dallas Cowboys. What did you really 
think of his i 

cosett: Meredith was а good quarter 
back. One of the better quarterback 
not one of the рде: ones. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think he was wise to 
retire when he did? 

coset: Yes. I think Dandy had the 
capacity to be a grear quarterback, but 
because of à poor personal relations 
with his coach, Tom Landry, it was 
ipossibl t turned out to 
be lucky for ABC, because he's probably 
the most irreplaceable member of our 
broadcast team. 

PLAYBOY: Since you brought up the sub- 
ject of replacement, would. you tell us 
why Keith Jackson was dropped from 
the telecasts last year in favor of Frank 
lord? 


to mW 
€ a dr 


пу 


ed Dandy to 


me 


tics? 


e His retiveme 


t was Roone Arledge's deci- 
Roone has great belief in Frank 
lord and feels he is a very valuable 
man to have in а company line-up of 
announcers. He concerned, of 


was 


course, about the morality of replacing 
Keith, who had done a fine job, and 
who'd done it just the way he was asked 
to. Arledge told me, “That's my prob 
lem and ГИ make it up to him. He'll be 
paid more, he'll do more N. B. A. basker 
ball and he'll go back to college foot 
ball. There's no way I want to lose this 
guy." But Roone felt we needed Сога 
on Monday nights. 


PLAYBOY: Are the three of you as friendly 
as you seem to be on TV? 
1 think so in every respect 


and Frank are best [ri ! 
clually got Meredith his job. 
We'd wanted Gifford on the show the 
first year and Frank wanted to be with 
s but couldn't because of his con . 
so he recommended. Dandy L Me 
edith and 1 became very close 

quickly. When Gifford joined us 
year, there was nothing less than amiable 
between Frank and me but, to be per 
fectly honest, certain tensions were there. 


st 


nk was feeling his way along: he 
didnt want to appear insecure and 1 
didn’t want to appear ove But 


» week. all of th 
imk kept getii 

until he was as ready 
nd 1 were. 


by the. fourth or fi 
had disppeared. 
looser and looser 
to laugh as Dandy 


PLAYBOY: Is the comedy on the telecasts 
rehearsed? 

COsELL: No. nothing is. I don't sce Don 
nk 


and Fr 
Monday 


about noon ol every 


me, when we have a meeting 


with the producer«director. Occasionally 
though, things happen just before a 
game that really get us in a great state 


of mind for the show. Our eighth tele. 
ам of the ample, took 
place in Baltimore, and it was a crucial 
game for both the Colts and the Los 
Angeles Rams. An hour before game 
time, I elected to go into the Colts’ 
dressing room, which I'm really nor sup- 
posed то do, but Fm very friendly with 
ато! 

nd Don Klosterman, the Colis 
manager. As I walked in. I stumbled over 
Tom Maue's foot. so I immediately 
broke the silence in the dressing room 
by announcing in my most blustery v 
“There he is, Tom Matte, number 41 
Does nothing well, but somehow every 
thing well enough to win. And thus 
typifies this curiously unspectacular but 
nonetheless championship Colt team." 
All the players begin laughing and even 
John Unitas, who's sitting next to me. is 
smil cracks himself up fur 
ther by say You're talking 
through your . Howard.” Any 
way, in a corner of the dressing room, 1 
Rosenbloom chatting with Vice 
President Agnew, who's а rabid Colts 
rooter. Rosenbloom sces me and, with 
n obvious measure of resignation, says, 
do you know this 
" The Vice-President says, "Why, yes 


Rosenbloom, the team 


owner 


1 


gener 


“Mr. Vice-President 


THE BIGGEST SELLING SMALLCAR IN EUROPE 
VS.THE BIGGEST SELLING SMALL CAR IN AMERICA. 


"This year, millions of Americans will 
go out to buy their very first small car. 
will find themselves confused 
small car is b 

Which is why we think it might be 
helpful for you to know that in Europe, 
where they’ve been comparing small cars 
for three generations, they buy more 
thananything else. 

Volkswagens included. 

One of the big reasons for this is the 
Fiat 128, which we're bringing to America 
for the first time this year. 


OUR PERFORMANCE VERSUS 
THEIR PERFORMANCE. 
‘The most obvious difference between 
128 and the Volkswagen Super 
s the engine. 
Ours isin front—theirsisin back. We 
have front wheel drive--they have rear 


handling because the wheels that are mov- 
ingthecararealso thewheels thatare turn- 
ing the car. 

Front wheel drive also gives vou 
better traction on ice and snow. (As proof, 
last the Fiat 128 won the Canadian 
Winter Rally, which is run over ice and 
snow the likes of which we har dly ever see 
inthe States.) 

You'll also notice, if vou glance at the 
charton the right, thatunder passingcondi- 
tions the Fiat accelerates faster than the 
Volkswagen. (Ifyou’veever passed a giant 
truck on a highway, you know how impor- 
tant that is.) 

The Fiat 128 — which has self-adjust- 
ing front brakes--can bring you to a 
complete stop in a shorter distance than 


the Volkswagen, which does not have disc 


The Fiat 128 has rack and pinion 
steering, which is a more positive kind of 
stecring system generally found on such 
cars as Ferraris, Porsches, and Jaguars 
The Volkswagen doesn't. 

And lastly, the Fiat comes with radial 
tires; the Volkswagen doesn’t. 


OUR ROOM VERSUS THEIR ROOM. 

The trouble with most of the small 
cars around is that while they help solve 
the serious problem of space on the road, 
they create a serious problem of space in- 
side the car. 

And while the Volkswagen is far from 
the worst offender in this area, it still 
doesn't give vou anywhere near the 
amount of space you get in the Fiat 128. 

Аз you can see on the measurement 
chart, the Fiat 128 is a full 10 inches 
shorter on the outside than the Volks- 
wagen. Yet it has more room on the inside 
than an Oldsmobile Cutlass, let alone the 
Volkswagen. 

Compared to the Super Beetle, it's 
wider in front, wider in back, and 5 inches 
wider between the front and back seat. 
Which should be good news for your 
knees. 

And in the trunk of the Fiat 128, 
where lack of room is taken for granted 
in small cars, you'll find 13 cubic feet of 
room. Їп the Volkswagen vou'll find 9.2. 


OUR COST VERSUS THEIR COST. 

Aside from the fact that the Fiat 128 
costs $167 less than the Super Beetle, 
there's another cost advantage we're 
rather proud of. 


According to tests run by the North 
American Testing Company, the Fiat 128 
gets better gas mileage than the Super 
Beetle. 

Now we don't for one minute expect 
that, even in the face of all the aforemen- 
tioned evidence, you will rush out and 
buy a Fiat. АП we suggest is that you take 
the time to look ata Fiat. 

Recently, the president of Volks- 
wagen of America was quoted as saying 
that 42% of all the people who buy Volks- 
wagenshavenevereven looked atanother 
kind of car. 

And we think that people who don't 
look before they buy never know what 
they've missed. 


Overseas delivery a 


ACCELERATION 
50 mph 


PLAYBOY 


82 


ard and 1 have worked the 
1 reply, "Ab- 


Carroll, Ho 
banquet circuit together. 
solutely true, Mr. Vice-President, but 
presently irrelevant. Tell me, sir, what 
is your position on Jewish ownership? 

I said it loud enough for all the players 
to hcar and ] thought Klosterman was 
going 10 hide in the shower. Rosenbloom 
shakes his hea 
might have known what to expect from 
Cosell, 

I then suggest to Agnew that it would 
be a nice gesture to go from cubicle to 
nd wish the players luck. So we 
d the locker room together and 
pproaching four black. players 
—John Mackey, an old friend of mine, 
Ray May and Roy 
Hilton. Just as we get within earshot, I 
"Then your conclusion, Mr. Vi 
ident, is that this team is saddled 
with too many blacks?" The black. play- 
crs know me. of course, 
gling, and Agnew recovers ii 
didn't put it that w: 
nswers almost. peevishly. “What T said 
was that an intelligent re-exam 
of the quota is in order." He т 
а hell of a sense of humor and ік а good. 
sport. Agnew agreed to do an interview 
with me to open the telecast, and after 
it was concluded, I turned the mike over 
to Dandy. who said. "I hope you all 
noticed that the Vice President 
ing a Howard Cosell wrist watch.” Be- 
lieve me, we were very loose for that 
game. 

PLAYBOY: Aside from being irreverent, do 
you feel that your Monday-night foot- 
ball telecasts have made any contribu- 


cubicle 


wear 


tion to televised sports? 
COSELL: 


Well, weve uied to dim 
the immense amount of jargon w 
sports to convince the public that 
football is a hopelessly complex game. 
Mter all, how many times can people 
hear that one team is 
acker”? That theme has 


become the most red t of all re- 
frains, because it’s the most obvious way 
to combat zone defense, which, in 


turn, is presented to us as if it were a 
work of Aristotelian logic. We try to talk 
about football in pl hand treat 
й as no more than what it is: a game. 
Monday Night Football has made one 
other major contribution to sports, I 
think. I would say that Dandy Don 
Meredith's erratic march to the Emmy, 
Ше most treasured of all broadcast 
awards, has to be regarded as one of the 
great feats of modern tim 
his very first y 
son will always be filled with priceless 
memories for mc. The first step in Don's 
countdown to Emmy came on the v 
first Moi ight telecast: Cleveland 
31, Jets 21, Cleveland gaining about 180 
yards, the Jets gaining over 300 yards, 
people in New York complaining that I 


hate Namath and people in Cleveland 
complaining that I hate the Browns. In 
that game, Dandy Don gave unmistak- 
able evidence he was оп his way by 
g his profound understanding 
terference. He made that very 
clear by saying, “I don't know what it is, 
but it’s a no-no.” 

By our fifth game, however, he really 
showed just what a classy announcer he 
had become. The Washington Redskins 
were meeting the Oakland Raiders and 
during our Monday mee 
ledge said, “We've got a 
the two 


great quar 
versus T 
it's a te 


ryle 
ific oppor- 
d Dandy into ance 


tunity for you to le: 
dotes 


about the quarterbacks” And I 
said, "Roone, we've got an instant disas- 
ter on our hands. Washington doesn't 
belong on the same field with Oakland." 
Atledge answered, "Listen, any time С 
nd scores, Washington can come 
back with Jurgensen’s pases” OK. 1 
would lead Meredith into stories about 
the quarterbacks. 

So the game begins with Washington 
kicking off and Oakland returning the 
ball 52 yards upfield. On the first play 
from scrimmage, Lamonica hands оН to 
number 35, Hewritt Dixon, and up the 
middle he goes for 48 yards and a touch 
down. Oakland 7, Washington 0. Alter 
Oakland kicks off, Washington goes no- 
where in three downs, and they're on 
their own eight іп a punting situation 
A bad snap and Oakland gets the ball 
deep in Redskin territory гы play, 
Lamonica to Warren Wells for a touch- 
down, Oakland 14, Washington 0, and 
we're not two minutes into the ac. 
Arledge buzzes me from the booth: 
попіса threw а TD pass, so 
d Dandy into an anecdote about Dar- 

“Dandy,” 1 say over the 
ally knows how to capitalize 
‚ doesn't 1 Meredith gets 
right with it. "He sure does, Howard. 
That reminds me, Daryle and 1 were 
ABC's The American Sportman"—áand 
Meredith proceeds to tell America how 
caught а really bad case of amoebic 
dysentery while hunting in Africa for 
the network's show. Keith Jackson has 
d in his hands, I'm roaring and 
апау» the only guy in the booth able 
к. Arledge buzzes me again: 
hear what I heard? What do we do?" I 
say, “We wait to hear from the FCC. 
Says Arledge, “Fuck the anecdotes,” 
Arledge runs away to Eu- 
rope and we are now in Three Rivers 
Stadium in Pittsburgh, with the Steclers 
playing the 
driving rain. The game is an a 
fiasco, we are wet and cold and all of us 
are bored to tears at the start of the 
second quarter. Then a retread middie 
linebacker for the Steelers, number 58, 


he 


Chuck Allen, makes a tackle after mov- 
ing а half foot to his right. Chet Forte 
buzzes me from the booth and 
"Should we replay t 
not? We have nothing better to do. А 
in the jargon of the ex-athlet 


call it a demonstration of Lateral. pur 
suit.” Forte tells me to lead Dandy into 
an anecdote about Allen. Fine. "Dan- 


у y. "our old friend number 58 
made that play, a real beauty. Take 


„ that’s our old 
buddy number 58," he says, checking the 
€ i ch “AL Be: 
look at that lateral pursuit.” 
and Forte buzzes me. "Howard," he 
“the fucker had the wrong player on the 
wrong team. What do we do?” I suggest 
we let ten minutes go by and then ГЇ 
allude to it with a jocular throwaway. 
"That's not good enough for Chet, who 
ndy. “Listen. you stupid son of 
a bitch,” he tells Meredith, “you had the 
wrong player on the wrong team. Not 
another word unless Howard asks you a 
direct question.” Dandy takes his ear- 
phones off, turns to me and asks. 
“Whats bugging him?" And I say, 
“Dandy, forget it. You know the gi 
chokes up when Arledge around. 
I knew then that Meredith h 
Emmy locked up. I wish all aspects of 
ball could be as much fun for me as 
covering the games. If football weren't 
becoming so institutionalized ап Ameri- 
can rite, I'd enjoy it much, much more. 

PLAYBOY: In terms of football as 


in command. 


buzzes I 


an 


tional rite, how do you feel about the 
precede 


patriotic displays that now 
games—the playing of the n 
them, the jetaireralt Пу 
lar demonstrations? 
COSELL: T think that every time they run 
up the flag and fly the airplanes and 
everything else, they should also hold an 
antiwar demonstration on the field. ] 
don't buy any of it 1 don't equate 
professional football, majorleague base 
ball or any other sport in this county 
with motherhood, apple ріс and р, 
ism. That's part of the old-world motif 
that’s gone forever, and young people 
don't buy it, either. Furthermore, I 
don't think the playing of our national 
anthem is а fitting beginning for a foot 
ball game or basketball game or boxing 
match or any athle st; that opin- 
ion will probably result in 50,000 more 
hate letters directed my way, But how is 
it an evidence of patriotism to sing or 
hear the national anthem played. before 
me? That's a cheap and easy thing. 
and 900.000.000 Benedict Arnolds could 
subscribe to it and it still wouldn't make 
m patriots. Some of the military р: 
before games is just as emb; 
ing. Before last year's Super Bowl, we 
had the North against the South in 
play of the Civil War, and the Sugar 


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PLAYBOY 


84 


Bowl was filled with the sounds of gun- 
fire as a mock. battle was conducted. It 
ful. 

Likewise, 1 feel that playing the a 


them before a game debases it and 
pens the real meaning of patriotism. 

The importance that our sod 

taches to sport is incredible. Afte 


football а gam 


religion? Do they 
play it in Westminster. Abbey? The 
people of this country have allowed sports 
10 get completely out of hand. Can you 
imagine that colleges actually were once 
places of education and mot communi- 
ties whose fondest wish is to produce 
undefeated football 
PLAYBOY; ABC, whic 
lege football, will 
pleased to le 
time college sport. Do you have a qu 
vel with it? 

Cost: Purely and simply. I'm ag 
big-time college sport, at least the way 
its conducted in this country, I think 
big-time college sport is corruptiv id 
hypocriticil, When а great university 
spends а good deal of its and 
money—which they almost. all do—on 
the importation of a 6’ 1114 
man because he can drop a ball through 
a hoop. it's а distortion of emphasis and 
values that redounds to a school's. dis- 
асай. Young people ше corrupted at 
the very beginning by college recruiters 
who descend upon them offering blan- 
dishments—many of them illegal under 
N. G A. A. rules. So why should the coun- 
uy be surprised when athletes thus cor- 
rupted take th xr highest bid and 
engineer basketball scandals? Why is it 
that every ten years im recent decades 
we've had а basketball scandal? Who 
knows, maybe we're ready for another 
one. Basketball is the slo-machine да 
of sports. the easiest one to dump. The 
are guys who've perfected the great 
dump shots—back rim-front. rim-back 
mound out, and you can't tell a damn 
thing, But it's happened. I'm not going 
names, because I'd be subject to 
respon y. Aud how can you 
me the young men involved, 
€ from the ghetto, who 
€ in some cases black, im other cases 
white, but all of whom are corrupted by 
the great institutions that entreat them to 
amend wi 10 their pursuit 
of educatio g else? In the Lice 
of kind of shameful rec g th 
goes on, nobody should be surprised if 
and when the next dumping sandal 
occurs, because the colleges have been 
asking for it. 
PLAYBOY: Would you give us some ex- 
amples of what you define as corruptive 
athletic recru 
COSE: Certainly. 1 think it’s a dreadful 
thing for a university pr to allow 
а coach to advertise іп The Washington 
Post for basketball players to come to 


ms? 
televises major col- 
undoubtedly be 


time 


youn 


his institution. which was done by 
Charles (“Lefty”) Driesell of the Un 
versity of Maryland. brought in from 
Davidson to make Maryland а national 
basketball power. A much stronger and 
more absurd example concerned Steve 
Worster, who eventually starred. for the 
University of Texa am. When 
he was à senior at Bridge City High 
School, Steve was the most famous high 
school player in America, D asked his 
parents if we could go into their home 
nd film Steve and his folks in con- 
versation with scouts there to recruit 
him for their colleges. T couldn't believe 
what [ хак, P couldn't believe that the 
scouts would allow 
they had to say. In came this guy from 
the University of Houston. “Steve.” the 
scout said. "I want your parents to hear 
this, Leave aside the car and a good 
parttime job and everything ele you 
ап expect. Steve, how do you like it 
when you play? You like it a litle bit 
cold. 54 degrees? You got it. Or maybe 
you like it warm, 71 degrees? You got it. 
Somewhere in between, say 61 degrees? 
You got that, too. Steve, we play in the 
Astrodome. Not only can you call the 
me lor us. "ll dec 1 
the temperature!" Can you believe this? 
a college is for? See it in 
practice and you get sick to your stomach. 
PLAYBOY: We're not trying to put words 
in your mouth, Howard, but you seem to 
be charging that the N. C. А.А, is inept 
at its job. 

COSELL: 1 suppose if one accepts the fact 
that there has to be big-time college 
sports. the N. C. A. А. can be presumed to 

good job administratively. i 

the sense that it oversees scheduling and 
gives orderliness to the whole conduct of 
collegiate sports. But in the sense of 
adhering 10 the true. purposes and doc- 
trines of a college. іп the sense of build- 
ing the integrity and moral fiber of 
young people who happen to have a 
bent for athletics, 1 think it’s doing a 
very bud job. 


us to record what 


Steve you 


PLAYBOY: Pe: 
lege exper 


haps the disillusioning col- 
nce helps explain the супі 
which many young players 
w a profesional sports career—that 
is, if you believe veterans such as Mike 
Ditka of the Dallas Cowboys He re- 
cently stated that today’s athletes. com- 


ing ош of college are а new breed who 
тер 
and 


al ticket 
nk 


nothing 


essors of a decade аро? 
COSEt: Sure, the a new br 
athlete, and ahhough I didn't 
the Ditka quote you just mentioned, E 
remember Mike very well and his 
cern for a meal ticket. During the 
football war for talent, one of the 
cquired by the Houston Oil 
League 


‘oot ball 


Ditka, then with the Chicago Be 
received a reported $50.000 fo 
So I don't think h 
notion of a mx 
letes of today are 
those who wi 
the bu 


rs, who 
signing. 
immune to the 
l ticket. But the ath- 


ndeed different: from 
e active when 1 came into 
more 


are men much 


part. They want a voice in their future, 
and many of them don't want to give up 
the whole of life just to. play football. 
Men like Dave Meggyesy, who quit the 
St. Louis Cardinals, George Sauer, Jr. 
formerly of the New York Jets, and Chip. 
Oliver. an erstwhile Oakland Raider, 
are no longer exceptions. 

PLAYBOY: What about men who feel that 
football isn't their entire life but want 
to continue pla will they necessari- 
Jy come into conflict with their coaches, 
many of whom believe a pro's total exist- 
ence must revolve around his sport? 
coset: They'd have trouble with most 
of the current pro coaches, but not all 
of them. 
PLAYBOY: WI: 
the most doctr 
cose: Don S 


hi coaches 
d 


с considered 


is hard Dine. Hank 
Dick. 


Nolan is hard lin 
not. Меер Ewbank is not. 
giving vou a rundow 
ing pro coach, let me 
of the alleged new bree 
come afoul of their 
players 
toughest coaches will ler things ride, This 
was true even of Vince Lombardi, prob 


Inst 
n on every r 
y Ша 


most 
hletes will 
coaches, but if the 
re good enough. some of the 


bly the most disciplinary of coaches 
The year Vince took over the Wash- 
ington Redskins. he was watching the 


players report to tra 
inson College in Carlisle, Pennsylv 
Sonny Jurgensen came in, Charley 7 


lor arrived. and then up comes this car 
and a Mad kid jumps out w r 
down to his shoulders and he's carrying 


w. Lombardi looks at him w 
suspicion and spits out to his aitant, 
“Who the hell is (at2" And the guy 
says. “That’s Jery Smith, the tight end. 

Lombardi, who'd been studying Red- 
skins game films all winter and spring. 
Let him keep the 


Lombindi. 
g authori 
spire 


Do you think tha 
who set the style for coach 
would be able to 
mg players to the excellence he 
n Вау? 

COSELL: Absolutely. Some me excep: 
tional, and Lombardi was an exceptional 
man, He would have been exceptional in 
any walk of life—in industry, govern- 
ment or education. The man was a clas- 
sics scholar, you know, and he was 
very much misiepresented by a certain 
segment of the sporting press. Nobody 
has ev iiten. about the re. 
Vince quit coaching the Packers when 


to- 


ally wı 


ioi 


+ Em 


E 
ES 


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And stretch. 

They also happen to be Perma-Prest® jeans, 
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been machine washed and tumble dried. 


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See them in The Jeans Joint at most Sears, 


Roebuck and Co. stores, and through the Cata- Its the blend 


log. In flared Trim n' Tight and Trim Regular 


Ru in all sorts of patterned and solid that makes em bend. 


Neets n Grubs and all that goes 
with them at THE JEANS JOINT in 


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PLAYBOY 


86 


he did. It related to a very hostile piece 
bout him in Esquire magazine by Leon- 
rd Schecter and a call Lombardi got 
from his mother, who was іш tears, and 


who told him, “This is not my son. How 
could they write this about you? 
PLAYBOY: Schecter portrayed Lombardi 


as a man so singlemindedly committed 
to victory that he drove his players as 
ruthlessly as any general would in а 
battle. Was that an inaccurate portrait? 


COSELL: It very definitely was. Lombardi 
was fanatical only when drilling h 

team on the football field. And when 
Schecter's Esquire aride came out, 


Vince felt it was а thoroughly scurrilous 
piece, utterly unfair, and it upset him 
terribly. When his mother called him 
about it, he really became distraught, 


because Vince was an Old World Italian, 
а very devoted family man. And he 
decided, hell, he'd lived a dean and 
decent life and had done his damnedest 


n his profession, He was well fixed lor 
life and he just didn't want to take that 
kind of criticism anymore; he felt that 
if he became only a general manager 
nd stepped out of coaching. the sports 
ers would case up on him. Vince was 
deeply affected by and sensitive to 
verse press, and he never got over 
PLAYBOY: Were you surprised when he 
er came out ol irement to coach 
the Redskins? 

COSEL: No, not at all. 1 knew he was 
going to do it. In fact, he discussed it 
with me several times during his retire- 
ment period. Vince couldn't sit on. the 
side lines, he just couldn't. He loved that 
goddamn game; it was his whole life. 
PLAYBOY. Lombardi set а standard of 
coaching excellence; are there currently 
y №. F. L. coaches as good as he w: 
cosett: | think not. In my opinion, the 
three best coaches in professional foot- 
ball today George Allen, Don Shula 
and Hank Suam, but they si 
yet be compared to Lom 
is by way ol illustrating how gr 


wr 


bardi was, for Allen, Shu 

ave really fine, fine coaches. 

PLAYBOY: Given the same peronnel, 
what сап these three do that othe 
coaches can't? 

COSEL: React, adjust, communicate— 
and win. There's no question Шш Don 
Shula and George Allen can do great 


things with a football team; their records 
prove it. Hank Stram gets a lot of cr 
cism fro in Kansas City, who 
feel he's got the personnel to win every 
year. But that’s illusory, because Hank 
"t had great running backs, and only 


the fans 


one, Ed Podolak, has developed. 
OL course, there ave other excellent 
coaches in the N.F.L. Weeb Ewbank 


may be smarter than a 
it comes to evalu 
ious talents. And because he hi 
unique ‘appreciation for a very yo 


ybody else when 
g players and their 
la 


Jets team, he was able to guide th 
to a Super Bowl championship. W. 
weaknesses are different. He's also ge 
eval manager and for him that's 
situation; when you let him nego 
contracts with players, he сап hurt the 
am badly. He'll save Ше team 52000 
пег of a million. Уе 
lon Biggs, the Jets’ great delensive end, 
was traded to Washington over а meager 
salary difference of $1500—and he's the 
1 of player upon whom Super Bow! 
€ built. I'm not singling 
out Ewbank for criticism; 1 criticize d 
him for three years and. 1 was wrong. 
thought his ideas were obsolete; I thought 
he didn’t discipline the team enough 
and I was wrong, 1 always wonder, 
though, about Namath under Lombardi 
for med about coaching 
him. 1 think Namath could have been 
much greater than he has been. 
PLAYBOY: How great is that? 
COSELL: In terms ol ability, по man has 
yet played the quarterback. position who 
could really equal Joe Namath. His tal- 


dre: 


em is unbelievable. John Unitas will 
tell you this but Jol abo say, 
“Look at what he does with it." Joe is a 


young man who needs the discipline he 
woud have gotten from Lom! 
in his private life bur in his thinking ou 
the feld. With all of his talents, he 
continues almost obsessively to n 
critical mistakes, such as challenging 
zone delenses when he shouldn't and 
thus giving up key interceptions. N; 
math does that const 
think he's yet played as brilliantly 
can. The one time Namath did w 
the Super Bowl, when he adhered reli- 
ously to the game plan, 
disciplined, and then you saw the 
lutely impec 


ady, so 1 don't 
һе 


maus abilities shi NU 
sports world 
Cosel: It is by people who work 
prolessional football. There are at | 
live common yardsticks for the evalua 
tion of a quarterback: reaction to pres 
sure, quickness in setting up, quickness 
in delivery, leadership qualities and rec- 
ognition ol delenses. Ou a total rating 
ol these five values, at five points apiece, 
Namath scores а 23 or 24, and the 
closest others rate is 18 or so: Len Daw- 
son, John Brodie and Johnny Hadl, the 
1 and very underpublicized 
k of the San Diego Chargers. 
ally, if Unitas and Bart Starr 
ren't over the hill, they, too, would be 
up there. Then come the two young 
ones, Roger Staubach and Bob Griese, 
at the same level with Fran Tarkenton, 
who's a very fine quarterback and who 
well take Mi yc 
Super Bowl. A more publicized quarter- 
back like Roman С. 
on the list, but not nearly so 1 


exception 


Inesotà to nex 


iel is well down 
down 


s people like Bob Berry of the Adan 
cons and Jack Concannon of the Ch 
cago Bears. th has all these 
His 
so vast that they are often his undoing. 
PLAYBOY; In what way? 


costi. His confidence im himself is 
awcsome—as із stubbornness. Не 
thinks he can throw a pass anywhere 


any пус. 


mo lear exceptional 
play call. y, absolutely no 
body, reads defenses better than he 
does: Namath is а terribly bright guy. 1 


think Don Shula or Gcorge Allen could 
make him into the best quarterback ever 
to step on a football field. The only 
son I dont mention Stram is that 
Namath wouldn't be good for Hank's 
offense; Joe can't run and Stram wants 
movement in a quarterback because of 
the Chiefs! offensive vari: 
PLAYBOY: Is the q 
important man on a team? 

cosett: In theory, yes, yet it has been 
docu ily established in recent у 


the most 


rs 


tal 


that you can win a title without a gre: 
quarterback. The Vikings went to a 
Super Bowl with Joe Kapp and last 


year the Cowboys got there with Cr 
Morton—where they were beaten by the 
Colts with Earl Morrall. What are these 
—great quarterbacks? Now you see teams 
winning games in the N. F.L, with the 
likes of Bobby Douglass and Virgil 
Carter 

PLAYBOY: You pronounce these names as 
if each were a communicable disease 
Are they really that bad: 
Cosel: 1 don't think they're that bad, 
but the sense in which I relate to them 
is this: Throughout all its years, the 
N. F. L. has carefully and effectively prop: 
ty- 
as a superstar 
амі to be a qua n the N. F. L. 
you had to be perfect, or so claimed the 


N. F.L. If it was true then, which it 
wasn't, it certainly isn't true now. The 
Bears won the title in 1963 with Billy 


Wade and the Browns won it in 1961 
with Frank Ryan, hardly great quarter- 
backs by adi of the 
I think the N. F. L's finest ac 
has been Ше masterful job of prop: 


it's done about itself. 
the real greamess af Joe Willic 
In a single afternoon, he punc 
tured the entire myth of N. F. L. supe 
riority. And then. the next. year, along 
сите Kansas City to stick it to the 
Vikings in the Super Bowl. Conversely, 
that’s the sad thing about Miami's loss 
to Dallas this year; now old-line N. F. L. 
sportswriters re chuckling as 
if they were club owners. such is their 
llegiance to the N They're saying 
_ "We still got the real teams 


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PLAYBOY 


88 


—see what the Cowboys did to the Dol- 
As if the Jets and Namath and 
id Stram never existed. 
PLAYBOY: What are you predicting for 
next season? 

COSELL: That we're going to witness the 
continued growth of the traditional 
N. F. L. have-nots; the Eagles, the Bil 
the Houston Oilers, the New Orleans 
ints, the Atlanta Falcons, the New Eng- 
and Patriots and the Cincinnati Bengals 
ave all on their way to becoming formida- 
ble teams. Miami, а have-not just а cou- 
ple of years ago, һа dy moved up. 
Whereas the Bears, like the G 
other traditional old-world power, are a 
declining team. The Green Bay Packers 
have declined, but I suspect 
going to improve di 
soon. 1 think the Kansas City Ch 
stay up there, especially il Len. Dawson 
doesn't retire. The San Francisco 49ers 
ave good personnel and will be con- 
ders, and. Dallas, of course, may well 
r in the Super Bowl. Minnesota, 
ed Tarkenton, will finally 
have an offer s murderous 
defense, and Baltimore has excellent 
personnel everywhere but at quarter 
back, which may be a prepossessing 
The New York Jets have 
nce to be strong for many years if 
Namath can merely stand up; he's a 
ery great player. 

PLAYBOY: You're as generous with com- 
pliments as you are with criticism, but 
the criticism seems to be what you're 
known for 

COSE. That's precisely the kind of re- 
n Tve always encountered. when 
seriously with sport, 
ed with a show ] did 
When the 
но existence 


te 


my 
Mets. came 
broadcast their games and I was assigned 
to do а post-game show. Casey Stengel 
1 been hired as the Mets’ manager 
and. of course, he'd been at the helm of 
the New York Yankees durin 


carcer. 


ngel was 
have on the scene, but I knew that most 
E the Yankees who had played wi 
n disliked the man, and soon after he 
took ov Mets, I saw 
ion— 1 so on the a 
gel was bad for young people. He didn't 
like them and he treated them badly. 
But he was revered by the [ans and 
when I criticized him, I was immediately 
accused of doing it "to develop а name.” 
What а ridiculous thing to think. I was 
taking my professional life in my hands 
by doing it J wasn’t then what I 
ow, and I was doing it because I'd seen 

actly how Stengel treated his me 
Like many an ex-Vankee. Mets 
players didn't like him: they thought he 
was cruel and а big bag of wind. 


why. In my 


am 


lost 


PLAYBOY: Would you care to be more 
specific? 
coset: І don't mind at all. There are 


men on 


baseball team and Stengel 
s the only manager I'd ever heard of 
who didn't know the names of many of 
his players, such was his al 
in them. I think what finally bothered 
me most about. Stengel was the manner 
n which he would talk to ihe press 
about his play 
would really ridicule them. Nov 
тау have been lousy playcrs—and, 


face it, the carly Mets were lousy pl 
—and it's perfecily all right for a man- 
ager to chew out his players in the 


dressing room. But there was hardly 
ced to strip young men of all their 
pride and selfaespect in public. Stengel 
did that. Repeatedly. 

PLAYBOY: Didn't any other members of 
the New York pres point out these 


things? 
COSELL: Never. The sportswriters loved 
Stengel because he gaye them copy 
every day. And what we soon had ir 


New York was a pres that celebrated 
futility. "That's all Stengel was there lor, 
to promote public relations, and the 
team’s ineptitude became a gay thing. 
Well, I thought it was a pathetic th 

iving in an age wh 


1 
football, Vince Lombardi was pursui 


quest for excellence while, in baseball, 
sey Ster ag a legend out 
of almost purposeful fotiliiy. Berween 
the two, ГЇЇ go with Lombardi. 

PLAYBOY: Did you di prove ol the way 
Stengel managed his team as well as the 
way he handled his players? 


C 


coset: | don't mind telling you 1 
thought Stengel was a good manager. 
Fm tempted to add, "Hc knew the 

me." but how difficult is it to know 


the seb: 


game ol I? Little leaguers 
could mana team successfully and 
the game is so simple 
сап play it and undersi 
"stand and second-guess as well 
п who's followed а team lor 20 
ince baseball broadcasters are 
Шу hired by the u d therefore 
t act as shill 
I dîd my post 
Ьу reading the newspapers—that 1 
was being controversial to advance. my 
career. But Ive learned to live with 
even the most mindless criticism. which 
began to come my way when I first 
started to cover boxing 
PLAYBOY: Has prize fighting always been 
one of your favorite spectator sporis? 

COSELL: At that time, 1 was drawn 
10 boxing initially because of my inter 


no. 


the business then. 
doing a few interviews with Floyd, that 
à number of sportswriters didn't like 
me because D was producing exclu 


material with him. I got caught up in 
the man's background. Floyd had at- 


tended the Wiltwyck School and, later 
on, onc of the "600" publi 


schools. both 
the 


of which offered special training fo 
disturbed child—which Floyd was. As a 
litle black kid growing up in the 
Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn 
Patterson used to hide in a hole in the 
subway and he'd sit there for hours 
until it was time to go home. He was a 
very undecipherable young man and їп 
а real way, he fascinated me, Since Fd 
never really been a devotee of box 
suppose it would be accurate to think 
that Floyd was the catalyst for my i 
est in the sport. 

PLAYBOY: Did vou think he was a 
fighter? 

coset: If Patterson had been just a bit 
smaller, he probably would have be 
the greatest. lightheavyweight. champion 
in history. Floyd fought as a heavyweight 
hts varying anywhere from the 
1805 up into the low 1905 Patterson’ 
punching ability was little short of amaz- 
ing for his size, and I mean to tell you he 
was as hard a puncher as Гуе seen. In 
fact, the strongest single punch Гус 
ever seen in my life was the left hook 
with which Floyd knocked. out. Ingemar 
Johannson on June 20, 1960. in the fifth 
ıt at the okl Polo 
ever forget the 
ing out of Jol 
right leg was twitching 
he was still out cold when I cl 
into the ring. Whitey Bimst the 
trainer, was leaning over him and a chill 
went through me when 1 saw Johannson 
"My God, Whitey, 
asked. And Bimsicin. 
1 me, said, “The son 
told him to 


at we 


round of their title fig 
Grounds. 


ги scene: 
nnson's 


d 
nbed 


mouth. hı 


rely looking up 
bitch should. Бе 
watch out for the left hoo! 
PLAYBOY: Paticrson, now 37, is well past 
his prime as a fighter, 
financially secure. Do you have 


wd supposedly is 


why he's stil 
COSELL: Yes. I kı il Д 
gave Floyd 1 society that he 
r dreamed he could possibly have 
And he has a tremendous. gratitude 1 
the sport for that. He put it to me in 
quite a moving way: “I's like being in 
love with a woman. She can be unlaith 
ful, she сап be mean, she can be cruel, 
but it doesn't mater. H you love her 
you want her, even though she can. do 
you all kinds of harm. It's the same with 
me and boxing. It сап do mc all Kinds 
of harm, but T love 
fighter, Floyd is little more т 
he was. I think 


nev 


ow of wl 


the first Liston fight, when he lost his 
championship to a man whose character 


seems to have improved in death as it 


When Cliff Richey takes off his Purcells, 
he puts on his Purcells. 


Cliff Richey wears Purcclls on 
the court. And off. 

So when Cliff Richey finishes a 
championship tennis match, he takes 
Off his rugged, on-the-court Purcells. 

And then he puts on his leather, 
off-the-court Purcells. The ones just right 
for the guy who knows where his shoes 
are going to take him next. 

To a party. Or a casual get together. 
Or a sporting event. Or to watch another 
tennis match. 

New Purcell RaceArounds. They make 
you look good when you're playing your 
favorite game. 

Whatever your favorite game happens 
to be, 

You'll find them wherever you buy 
better shoes. 


BEGoodrich 
(ҮЙ 7272 


PLAYBOY 


30 


never could have while he was alive. 
PLAYBOY: What do you mcan by that? 
coset: I recently read that as а prod- 
uct of зәсісі а 

him, Charles ("Sonny") Li more 
honest in his own way than many a 
do-gooder—sudi as тузей-чһо had 
verbally assaulted him while he was 
alive. What сап I tell you? 1 despised 
Sonny Liston. 

PLAYBOY: Why? 

coset: He was а сопке 
record of more than 20 arrests and a 
number of felonies—really serious 
ines—to his credit, or rather discredit. 
He was а cheap and ugly bully without 
yand I had no use for him. It's 
just too casy а cop-out to say that Liston 
as a product of a society in which the 
black is а second-class citizen and all 
the rest of that line of reasoning. Sonny 
was a bad apple. 
PLAYBOY: What were уо 
him like? 
соц. U 


l thug with a 


a 


di 


gs with 


my dealings with any 
other man Ive ever encountered i 
sport. The first I met Sonny. Т 
mean really met Sonny, was in Septem- 
ber of 1962. He was getting ready for his 
tle fight with Patterson and he w: 
taining at Aurora Downs, a broken- 
down old race track about 30 miles 
outside Chicago. 1 was doing a radio 
broadcast of that fight with Rocky М 
Gano, who'd never met Liston either. 


We drove out to tape Lison for our 
prefight show, accompanied by Osc 
Fraley, a good friend of mine who'd 


tihored The Untouchables and who 
was the feature sportswriter for United 
Press. When we got to this scedy old 
place, we had to wait quite a while 
before an armed guard—patrolling be- 
hind a barbed-wire fence—got permis- 
sion for us to emer. The ring had been 
set up 

the clubhouse, 


co 


n the middle of what had been 
nd the floor was littered 
with losing horserace tickets, and all the 
betting windows were smashed in. The 
place was so ramshackle as to be almost 
beyond belief. 

The whole thing was eerie. When ме 
ed, Liston was in the ring, shadow- 
a recording of Night Train. 
мас five other. people 
sound. 


about 


There 
there, but no опе would make a 


Suddenly. from an upper level, Liston's 
wife comes down the stairs, si not à 
word to anyone but walks straight toward 
ihe ring and climbs in. And then she 
and Sonny мап to do the twist to 
Night Tram. Aud all this time, no one 
has stid a word. I'm telling you, the 
scene was 
T id 1. "Look, the 
Listons finish dancing, the smart thing 
for us to do, champ, since you were the 
greatest, is for you to do the interview 
Rock looks at me and says, "I want no 
part of it. You think I'm nuts?" £» I 


weird. 1 pulled Marciano 


s soon 


turn to Fraley and before I can say 
nything, he s 1 go hom 
PLAYBOY: Did you? 
coset; Not yet. A [ew minutes later, his 
manager talks to Sonny about us and 
from the ring Liston looks over b: 
fully, gives us a sinister stare and then 
shouts, “Goddamn it, I ain't talking to 
no one! No one, you understand?” We 
understood, but we had to get that inter- 
view. When his workout was over, Liston 
finally allowed Marciano to approach 
him, but the Rock was so shook he v 
tually couldn't speak. So I said, 
look. Sonny, you're goi 
ght champion of the world 
not going to take you loi 
to have to present à image 
to the American public, "cause you got 
a lot to make up for. 1 don't give a god- 
mn if you hate me; 1 don't like you 
cither, and I just met you. But you gotta 
do this interview.” 
PLAYBOY: You really said that to him? 
coseu: Yes, І did, but I still don’t 
know why. Liston, though, just gave me 
а big smile and suddenly I realized that 
the son of a bitch was really just a big 
bully. And he finally did quite a pleasant 
interview. When we left, they were play- 
ng Night Train again. That was the 
ist time 1 met Sonny Liston. 
PLAYBOY: There are n people who 
still can’t believe that Liston, massive 
nd seemingly invincible, «оша have 
been knocked out so quickly—and so 
mysteriously—by АН іп their second 
bout. You were there; was the fight fixed? 
coset: Dm suspicious about that fight. 
I was then, I am now. I never saw a 
punch. Certain sportswriters saw а 
punch, but they sec a lot of things. 
Jimmy Cannon, a fine boxing writer, 
said he was situated exactly right when 
the knockout occurred. Cannon said he 
definitely saw the punch—and that it 
couldn't have crushed a grape. 
PLAYBOY: Were you surprised when 
beat Liston in their first title fight? 
coset: | couldn't have been more sur- 
prised: I thought Liston would kill him. 
But a strange thing happened in that 
bout. Rocky Marciano and I were cover 
ing the fight, and I believe it was in the 
th: Ali aded a 
on k. Sonny had a 
paunchy, slightly flabby face, and the 
blow split the whole side of his free w 
open, from the corner of his leit 
down to the comer of the lip; blood just 
a pouring ош. Ali, if you remem- 
used to turn his punches at the 


g 1o be the lı 
м 


g You're 


whole new 


d round when 
Lison's left ch 


moment of impact, and they had a dam- 
aging, slicing effect. Absolutely devastat- 
ing: he could really cut a man to ribbons 


those days—which is what he did to 
Liston in that third round. 

TIL never forget what Marciano said 
to me just а few moments after that 


punch: "Jesus Ch , Liwon's 
becoi okl m And it was truc; 
Sonny stood exposed from that moment 
on. I don't x ay questions 
about that first fight, because after Ali 
opened that wound, Sonny was ready to 
quit. And I think that under almost any 
circumstances, Ali woukl have won the 
second fight rather easily, But the cu- 
rious way it ended; 1 remember students 
from Bates College running down to 
ringside and shouting, "Fix! Fix! Fix!" 
t Dominics Arena in Lewiston, 
Maine, has to be one of ihe signal sites 
in boxing history. I still don't know what 
happened there on the night of May 25, 
1965, and I guess l'H never know. 

PLAYBOY. Just a few months after the 
second Liston fight, Ali defended his title 
against Patterson. Though you've always 
been a friend and partisan of Ali's, you 
criticized him severely after that bout. 
Why? 

COSELL: It was clear to me that Ali pur 
posefully tormented an outclassed Floyd 
2 rounds, at which point 
ise finally stopped the 
«1 despised 


Floyd. He's since grow 
but when the ally felt that 
Floyd w k man who 
was a kind of surrogate white hope. Pat- 
terson, if you remember, had made a 
number of deprecating remarks 


ad changed, 


a letter published in several newspapers 
in which he vowed to bring the heavy- 


weight champions k to Americ 

That got to Mul did Paner- 
son's quiet and subdued manner. Ali 
never took to him and Floyd tude 


about the Muslims really angered him. 
PLAYBOY: Isn't it possible that Ali was 
using the Muslim theme as a prefight 
strategical ploy in the same way he 
feigned insanity at the weigh-in for the 
first Liston bout? 

COsELL hat's possible but not proba 
ble. I really believe Patterson irrivited 
Muhammad. On the other hand, Ali's 
attack of insanity on the day of the first 
Liston match was а great, great act. 1, 
for one. left that weigh-in convinced 
that Ali had genuinely popped his cork. 
PLAYBOY: Since you're a fairly perceptive 
observer of athletes, don't you think it's 
possible that he 
coset: No chance at 
you why. 
vention 
c plac 


, and ГИ tell 
When 1 got 10 Miami's Con- 
Hall, where the bout w 
га ly enough to see 
Muhammad's brother, Rahaman Ali, 
fight in a preliminary. As I was waiking 
down to ringside, who the hell do I see 
standing there but Ali, who couts me 
on the shoulder and shouts, “It's my 
man, Howard Cosell! Howard, stand 
here and watch my brother take care of 
this chump!” And I could only think 


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E 


PLAYBOY 


92 


10 myself, "Why, that son of а bitch, 
what an actor! Never saw a man conl- 
er and he's about to go up against the 
most feared heavyweight in a decade." I 
realized then he'd рш on а show that 
had taken everyone in. 
PLAYEOY: Ali ever admit it to you? 
COSEL: Indeed he did. Т remember ask- 
ing him about it and Muhammad, with 
a straight face but twinkling eyes, said, 
“Oh, Г was scared, man, scared. I just 
thought I'd let all those writers see how 
scared I was. Remember your radio show 
the afternoon of the fight? From what 
you said, I was ju: 
Liston ed at me in the 
then Ч and said, “Well, 
п he got in that ring; Ме was 
the guy who was scared. And ] made 
him scared. I wanted him to know I was 
crazy, because any man who's not a fool 
has got to be scared of a crazy man. 

On the night of the fight. however, no 
matter how cool E realized he was, E still 
didn't give him a chance to beat thc 


Alî аһ 


call Liston. mes 
for his opponents; Paterson. was the 
Rabbit, Terrell the Octopus and George 
Chuvalo the Washerwoman. But after 


he'd cut and demoralized Liston іп that. 
third round, | turned to Marci: 
said, "There's no way this guy can lose 
We've been completely fooled, Rock. 
‘The kid's a fighter." And what a fighter 
he was. Before they put him into en- 
forced idleness, Muhammad Ali was the 
greatest fighter I ever saw in my life. 
PLAYBOY: Is he less than that now: 
coset: Unfortunately. yes. He lost so 
much in the three and a half years he 
was out of the ring that it’s almost in- 
describable, Muhammad has lost his two 
basic attributes—the swiftness of his [eet 
nd the swiltness of his hands. And when 
you lose that hand speed, you lose the 
sharpness of your punches, And Ali has 
totally lost that punishing ability to turn 
his punches rhe way he did against Liston 
nearly eight years ago. Otherwise, there's 
no way he could have lost to Joe Frazier 
Frazier is a good, tough мег of the 
club variety who leads with his head. Ali 
fought him after all that idleness and 
you know the he did to hi 
Frazier is not to be even remotely œm- 
pared with Mul 
In their tide fight, I agreed complete- 
ly with referee Arthur М 
card; Ali ing six rounds to four 
and he'd almost decked Frazier in Ше 
ninth. I'm personally convinced that the 
Ali of old would үс knocked Frazier 
out within five rounds, And to mc it was 
remarkable that Muhammad. was ahead 
1 the fight until that surprising episode 
in the lith round, when he lay against 
the ropes with his gloves at his sides: 
aner then got in a left hook that 
knocked Ali silly, even though it didn't 


по and 


^s score 


nt 


knock him down. From then on. Frazier 
dominated the fight and fairly won the 
decision. But the damage done to Е 
zier! Good Lord, I was standing right 
next 10 his manager, Yancy Ошта 
and, believe me, they had to сату Joc 
out. When Muhammad left the r he 
actually gave me a wind! 

An zing thing then happened: 
Within 60 days, Ali had many people 
believing he had been robbed and u 
hed really won the fight—which he 


didn't, Lets face it, the man is some 
personality, Не» the most famous ath- 
lete in the world; there's nobody even 
close, and that includes Pele, El Cor 
Форе and anyone else you might care to 
пате. In all honesty, 1 Teel sony lor 


Joe Frazier. He's the heavyweight cham- 
pion of the world, but a lot of people 
don't accept. him as that, And quite 
understandably, it’s killing him inside 
Joe wasn't responsible for Ali bein: 
banned. He fought Ali as hard as M 
could, he heat him, and yet nobody 
And so he has g 


really accepts hi 
to hate Ali. 
PLAYBOY: 11 Frazier Шу feels that way, 
doesn't that portend another severe test 
Тог Ali in their rematch? 

coset: In all honesty. I'm not sure 
there will be a rematch. I'm not. sure 
about Frazier’s boxing future, but I don't 
know enough about the subject right 
now 10 tlk authoritatively about it 
First I want to be satisfied that Joe 
didn't sulle "damage in die 
Ali fight. Wh илет was in the hospi 
1 three weeks, talked 
about blood in the urine, a kidney ail- 
ment, and so on. Aud now it develops 
he’s got recurring high blood. pr 
which they maintain he's had м 
childhood. Maybe thats tue, I 
know. 
not he suffered any head injuries. Joe 
may very well pletely healthy 
d 1 don't mean to imply that. there's 
something wrong with him. Fm just 
concerned about it because he's а finc 
young man and [ wouldn't want to sec 
him damaged for life 

PLAYBOY: Have you (әкей to Ali since 
the Wide World of Sports show when 
you set the “highlights” of his fight with 


own 


for his doctor 


псе 
don't 
1 don't know, ейһег, whether or 


be coi 


Buster Mathis to music and called. the 
whole thing a farce? 
coset: I haven't, But I talk to 


Angelo Dundee, Muhammad's tı 
all the time. Angie told me 1 was abso- 
lutely right in my opinion of the fight 
and he actually thanked me for what we 
did on the show. He said, "I hope this i 
a wake Muhammad up. He's gotta 

ing and become a fighter 
If he amd Frazier meet in a 
match, by the way, I'm convinced that 
if Ali gets into reasonable shape. he still 
has enough left to give him a chance to 
whip Joe. 


PLAYBOY: Supposing he doesn't; is there 
anyone fighting today who'll be able to 
keep boxing alive the way Ali has? 

COSELL: Do you really think Alî 
kept boxing alive? Boxing is 
bund sport, its death inevitable for res- 
sons tied 10 economics, sociology and 


has 
mor 


electronics. Historically, boxing was the 
sport of each succeeding wave of under 
privileged minorit alias, 
Jews. blacks and, most recently, Puerto 


Ricans. That's because there were never 
пу decent jobs for minority group mem 
bers, but. equalopportunity hiring 


the growth of the economy has cha 
all that, The electronic factor was i 


ion: Wednesday. and Friday-night 
fights eventually caused. the sport to be 
come oversaturated. many years ago. Did 
Ali keep it a y in the sense of the 
occasional heavyweight championship 
fight. Essentially. boxing is dead and has 
been for а long т 

PLAYBOY: Do you regret its demi 


boxing today. but the sport w у 
have a hold on me because of the men 
who fight. They are the most interesting 
of all athletes, for they seem to have the 
deepest feelings about lile; maybe it's 
because their sport is so naked and brutal 
and is such а lonely pursuit. You have to 
get inside a ring to appreciate how small 


it is; you wonder how men can ever 
escape. There's something special about 
a boxer and something special about his 


sport. for it engages our basic emotions 
like no other athletic 
PLAYBOY: Do vou st 
to а boxing match? 

COSELL: Yes, especially if Fm watching a 
heavyw good 
heavywei ght, which 1 believe 
is the most exciting sports event in the 
world. Its the only event that can total. 
ly engulf me emotionally. The ter 


etiv 


and anticipation that run through a 
crowd before the opening bell of 


long-awaited heavyweight championship 
bout is just overwhelming, and I've nev 
er seen it reach the pinnacle that it did 
at the Ali-Frazier fight, The excitement 
was almost unbearable. Оп а broader 
less emotional scale, the Olympic С 
give you a sense of the sweep of civi 
lized society on die planet Erih. You 
o that Olympic Village and you 
"C help feeling as if you've stumbled 
upon a utopia, a society where people 
love amd care about one another. In 
spite of autocrats like Avery Brunda 
ıd the bineauerats who make up the 
U. $. Olympic Committee, the overriding 
memory Em left with after an Olympiad 
is one of understanding and friendship 
among the young people of the world 
And the 
victory in the Olympics th 
s. such 
1 performance 


mes 


perhaps you get a с 


see 
very speci: 
Toomev's 


as 


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PLAYBOY 


94 


1968 Olympic decathlon. His was prob- 
ably the most extraordinary victory I've 
ever witnessed. 
PLAYBOY: Why? 


s ald. he 
was playing with a piece of ceramics 
that shattered; the nerves іп his right 
wrist were severed, paralyzing the hand. 
Douors said he'd never be able to use 
the hand again, and to this day his 
ight hand is shriveled, But somehow he 


COSELL When Bill was five y 


made that hand work so that he could 
put the shot, carry the pole for the 
vault, throw the discus and heave a jave- 


lin. Toomey always dreamed of Кон 
g an Olympic champion and at age 2 
he paid his own way to watch the 196 
Tokyo games, Hed dabbled in track 
and field for some time and because Bill 
couldn't do anything superbly well, he 
decided 10 diversify. Soon after the To 
хо Olympics, we begin to read Bill 
Toomey's пате in the decathlon results 
of international track. meets. 
to be getting somewhere, but then he 
caught infectious hepatitis in West Ge 
many. Toomey was hospitalized for six 
months and close to death, but finally 
he recovered. Then, almost incredibly, 
he came down with mononucleosis. and 
shortly after that, one of his knees got 
cracked up in a car accident—and 
what's an athlete without good kne 
But Toomey overcame it all, and at 29, 
this schooltcacher was our country's hope 
in the 1968 Olympic decathlon —18 hours 
of the most intense competition in the 
world. 

In Mexico City 
letes’ 
Bill 
event, 


He seemed 


I snuck into the ath- 
1 because I wanted to wish 
before the final decathlon 
1500-meter run. If he won 


тоз 
luck 
the 


that, he'd win the gold medal. But ther 
was 


no conversation between Bill and 
Toomey lay prostrate on à rubbing 
ble, cold from 
But an hour later, he was back out on 
the track. Dusk had descended and 
Mexico City was cold, wet and windy, 
They ran the damned race and it w: 
no contes: The man with the finishing 
kick was Bill Toomey, and as I stood 
nest to the cinder path watching him 
suide to victory, T just felt exultant. for 


out utter exhaust 


the whole human race. He gave vivid 
evidence that man can do virtually 
whatever he wants to do if he wi 


and then lives by that will. Bill Toom. 
суз Olympic victory was 
demonstration of the magi се of 
the human spirit, Aud I love him for it 
PLAYBOY: You sound like а man who's 
Tulfilled by his work. Are you? 
cose: When Fm dealing with compel- 
cvents like an Olympiad or an 
Ali Frazier heavyweight title fight, yes, 1 
m. But those are rare occasions, To me, 
the biggest virtue of working in sports 
some of the people you meet: you do 
have a brush with greatness. And I've 


been very lucky that way. I think Vince 
Lombardi was a great man, T think Bill 
Toomey is a great man. I think Jackie 
Robinson i of the greatest. men 
human society yet produced. 1 
thought Fred Hutchinson, the baseball 
manager, was a great man, Its a positive 
thrill for me to go back through my Шс 
and know that these men were my 
friends. And because they were іп the 
public arena, I think cach of them had a 
beneficial impact өп society. The 
dent of a corporation doesn't have that 
kind of visible impact. n the 
president of a university. Neither does 
great scientist, unless he comes up with 
cctrilying breakthrough like Jonas 
But an athlete can have il be 
Cause sport has such a peculiar place in 
our society. But can I really take games 

i No. Sport is not going to 
ion of hostilities in Vier 
not assuage the па 
not rebu 

And so the 
no: My work 


on at 


does 


single ghetto іп America. 
answer for me is. finally, 
does not fulfill me. 

PLAYBOY: Asidc 
are the main pa 
coset: I 


m sport, then, what 
sions of your life? 

€ a deep and abi 
interest in politics that has never be 
fulfilled. 1 don't regret for a minute 
leaving my law practice. but would 1 like 
to be in the United States Senate? Yes, 1 
would. Would I like to do something 
about the problems of the world and 
especially the problems of our great cit- 
ies? Yes, I certainly would. Politics. inci- 
dentally, is not my only private passion. 
To take you from the significa 
absurd, T don't mind admitting that I 
like to act. 

PLAYBOY: Was that triggered by 


mt to the 


your 


appearance in Woody Allen's Bananas? 
cose: I'm afraid so. Actually, 1 was 
pleasantly surprised with my work in it, 


because when I left Puerto Rico after 
the shooting, 1 had grave mi " 
about having done it. 

PLAYBOY: Didn't you think you were the 
perfect choice to play yoursel? 

coseu: ‘Truthfully, T thought I was in 
over my head. And thas because 
Woody Allen is a comic genius. Twenty 
years from now, there may very well be 
Woody Allen film festivals just as there 
now with the movies of W. C. Fields, 
Chalice Chaplin and the Marx Brothers. 
I came home to New York worrying if 
Td made а fool of myself, but then a 


few months later, Woody called me 
and said, “Howard, we've rough-cut the 
movie and the best thing in it is you 
opening," When I finally saw the film, I 
couldn't believe my scenes came over as 
well as they did. Since Bananas, Ive 
done some comedy spots on several TV. 


shows, and I enjoy that kind of thing. 
But the most TV work I've 
done were the times I guest-hosted the 
Dick Cavett and David Frost shows. Both 


satis 


of those allowed me the chance to let my 


mental curiosity come out and play. 
PLAYBOY: If you finally get weary of 
sports reporting. would you want to 


have your own TV talk show? 

Costi: One of the reasons I've been 
doing all these things is that, to a de 
gree, I have gotten weary of sports. You 
have to if you've got a mind and if 
you're an educated man. But I wouldn't 
gel into the talkshow field at the ex 
pense of leaving sports, because that's а 
practical matt intellectual onc 
Tve been in sport too long. established 
too firm а base and make too 
money at it to get out now. I would 
venture into an entirely new field unless 
my wile and children were taken care ol 
lor the rest of their lives in the event of 
my death, and that’s not the case yet. 

Is that the only reason you 
remain in a field you 
ruthlully, crested at 
tively advanced age of 
what is а very young man's indust 
and at this stage of my life. even if the 
finances were tight. I don't know if I'd 
[ to risk everything Гуе worked so 
damned hard for. I think I have found. 
or at le ated, а role for myself. But 
in a very real sense, sport has become 
100 important not just in my life but in 
all our lives; such is the nation's need to 
са 
be sure. 


notan 


much 
[ 


no, 


pe from itself. а sad comi 


entary, to 
If you've ever been around the 
world of sport. especially with most of 
my sportscisting colleagues and even 
with newspaper sportswriters, you know 
that all they ever talk about is the con- 
test within the arena—who should have 
been sent up to pindrhit, what the 
match-ups should have been, who may or 
may not win Ше nest game, and so on 
g amd albpere 
find myself thinking, What's become of 
me? There's got to be something more to 
life а setback on 


ve, and I 


than isolating ve 
backer 
Within sports journalism, however 


there is something more, and that’s the 
gut reason I feel a responsibility to stay 
in it Let the operators of sport field 
their teams and der them play their 
mes and let's have the fun that sport 
provides. But the people who run sport 
must not feel that they can imperiously 
rule a make-believe world in 
everything they do is to be either 
planded or excused. Never let them 
think for even а minute that there's 
nobody out there in the real world to 
expose them when they defy the public 
interest or reap injustice upon an ath- 
lete. The sports establishment has а 
countability to the public, which so 
handsomely rewards them, 
athlete, whose talents enable them to 
grow rich. And when they openly defy 
either, ГИ be there to call them on it. 


which 
ap: 


ac- 


ad to the 


=. 


WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PLAYBOY? 


He may be a professional film maker or just a weekend camera buff. But he's a man who always 
sets his sights above the ordinary. And naturally, he applies the same high standards to the photo- 
graphic equipment he selects. Facts: PLAYBOY reaches 35% of all men under 35 who spent 
$100 or more for a movie camera and 51% of all who used eight or more rolls of movie film during 
the past year. Want him to discover your product? Put it in PLAYBOY. (Source: 1971 Simmons.) 


New York + Chicago + Detroit + Los Angeles . San Francisco . Atlanta + London + Tokyo 


96 


JEWELS 
ORSI 
OFS 


fiction By JOHN CHEEVER every thursday afternoon she would wash her diamond 


rings and hang them on the clothesline to dry-which could lead one into temptation 


nvestment and the blazing 


FUNERAL services for the left the elevator at the populated by harried, nerv- 
murdered man were held in fourth floor and the parting ous, avaricious foreigners stones were about as glam- 
the t n church in the of these two images was who lacked the character to Orous as а passbook. There 
Tittle village of St. Botolphs. fusing. I wanted to fob bathe in cold water at six were round diamonds, square 
The architecune of the her, but how could 1 in the morning and to live, diamonds, rectangular dia 
church was Bulfinch with 3 in French—or with composure, lives of monds and some of those 
columns and one of those grueling boredom. Mrs. Ca- diamonds that are set in 
ethereal spires that must bot, when I knew her, was prongs. On Thursday after- 
have dominated the land- probably in her carly 40s. noon, she would wash her 
sape a «өмшу ago. The то enjoy seeing himself and She was a short woman with diamonds in some jewelers 
service was a random collec when he lost the election the brightred face of an al- solution and hang them 
tion of Biblical quotations and his face vanished ‚ although she wasa out to dry in the clothes 
dosing with a verse. “Amos cept for a few bams vigorous temperance worker. yard. She never expl 
Cabot, rest in peace/Now the back country, where it Her hair was as white as this, but the incidence of 
your mortal trials have peeled for a month or so) snow. Her back and her eccentricity in the village 


cohol 


ceased. .. ." The church was he seemed not perturbed. front were prominent and ran so high that her conduct 
Іші. Mr. Cabot had been There are, of course, the there was a memorable curve was not thought unusual, 

ап outst member of wrong Lowells, the wrong to her spine that could have Mrs. Cabot. spoke once 
the community. He lad allowells, the wrong Eliots, Беса caused by a cruel corset or twice ye the 


once run for governor. For or the beginning of lordo St. Botolphs Academy, where 
а month or so, during his but today we will sîs No one quite knew why many of us went to school 

m, one saw his pic deal with the wrong Ca Mr. Cabot had married this She had three subjects: “Му 
on barns, walls, build- bots. Amos came from the — eccentric from faraway Con. Trip 10 Alaska" (slides), 
ings 1 telephone poles. 1 South Shore and may never necticut was, after all, no “The Evils of Drink” and 
domt suppose the sense of с heard of the North one's business—but she did “The Evils of Tobacco. 
ik was for her so un- 
me st Bank of e that she 
the rivers where the work- could not atack it with 
as it would have unsettled those days an entertainer, сту in the tablesilver factory much vehemence. but the 
me. Once, for example, horse trader and sometime lived. Her tenements were thought of tobacco made 
when F was in ап elevator in crook. Amos owned real es profitable, but it would have her choleric. Could опе im- 
Paris, 1 noticed а woman tate, the ha ¢ been an unwarranted simpli Christ on the cross, 
book of minc. public ш fication to conclude that he а cigarette? she 
а photo; director had married for real estate. would ask us. Could one im. 
ket and one imag 1 an office c She collected the rents her- the Virgin Mary smok 
me looked over her arm at wright Block, opposite the self. I expect that she did \ drop of nicotine fed 
another. ] wanted the pic green. His wife came from her own housework and she pig by trained labo- 
ture, wanted, І suppose, to Connecticut, which was, for dressed simply, but she wore ratory technicians had killed 
destroy it. That she should us at that time, disam оп her right hand seven — the beast лс. She made 
walk away with my face wilderness on whose eastern lage diamond rings. She had smoking sible and if I 
under her arm seemed to borders stood th read somewhere die of lung cancer, I shall 
threaten my selfesteem. She New York New mds were a sound Мате Mis. Cabot. These 


valking through a shifting Shore branch of the family. own most of the hime rene- 
ts on the 


ror—he found himself at His father 1 bee 
every turn—unsettled him auctioneer. which meant 


ILLUSTRATION BY ARSEN ROJE 


PLAYBOY 


performances took place in what we 
called the Great Study Hall. This was a 
large room on the second floor that 
could hold us all. The academy had been 


built the 1850s and had the lofty, 
spacious and beautiful windows of that 
period in American architecture, In the 


build- 
its 


spring and in the autumn, th 
ing scemed gracefully suspended 
grounds. but in the winter, a gl 
fell off the large window light 
Great Study Hall, we were allowed to 
us and gloves. This situa- 
s heightened by the fact that my 
nt Anna had bought in Athens 
¢ collection of pla at 
we shivered and memorized the donative 
verbs in the company of at least а dozen 
buck.naked gods and goddesses. So it was 
to Hermes and Venus as well as to 
us that Mrs. Cabot railed against the 
poisons of tobacco. woman of 
vehement and ugly prejudice and 1 sup- 
pose she would have been happy to in- 
clude the blacks and the Jews, but there 
was only one black and one Jewish 
family in the village and they were es 
emplary. The possibility of intolerance 
in the village did not occur to me until 
much later, when my mother came to our 
house in Westchester for Thanksgiving. 
This was some years ago, when the 
New England highways had mot been 
completed and the tip from New York 
or Westchester took over four hours. I 
left quite early in the morning and 
drove first to Haverhill, where I stopped 
at Miss Peacock’s School and picked up 
my niece. I then went on to St. Bo- 
tolphs. where I found Mother sitting i 
the hallway in an acolyte's chair. 
chair had a steepled back, topped with a 
wooden fleur-de-lis. From wl damp. 


In th 


church had this object been stolen? She 
wore 


coat and her bag was at her feet. 
she . She must have 
a week. She seemed terri 
bly lonely. “Would you like a drink? 
she asked. I knew enough not to 
һай. Had I said yes, she would ha 


one into the pantry and returned, smil- 
Чу, to say: "Your brother has 

drank all the whi: 

back for 


overcast da 
though Т think fatigue had noth- 
ing to do with what followed. I left my 
my brother's house in Connect 
cut and drove on to my place. It was 
after dark when the wip ended. My 
wife had made all the preparations that 
were customary for my mother’s arrival. 
There was an open fire, a vase of roses 
on the piano and tea with anchovy- 
piste sandwiches. "How lovely to have 
flowers,” 1 so love flowers. 
I can’t live without them. Should I 
suffer some financial reverses and have 
to choose between flowers and groceries, 1 
bel 


хе I would choose flowers. . . / 
I do not want to give the impression 
ol an elegant old lady, because there 


were lapses in her performance. I bring 
up, with powerful unwillingness, a. fact 
that was told to me by her sister alter 
Mother's death. It seems that at onc 
time. she applied for а position with the 
Boston police force. She had plenty of 
money at the time and I have no idea 
why she did this. I suppose that she 
wanted to be a policewoman. I don't 
know what branch of the fore she 
planned to join, but I've alwa 
ned her in a dark-blue uniform wi 
ng of keys at her waist and a billy club 
in her right hand. My grandmother dis- 
the 


suaded her from this course, but 


fire. She me 
she called ari this connec- 
tion, she often said © must be at 
least а drop of plebeian blood in thc 
mily. How else can ome account for 
your taste in torn and shabby clothing? 
You've always had plenty of clothes. but 
you've always chosen rags 

I mixed a drink and 
had enjoyed secing my ni 

"Miss Peacock's has ch 
said sadly. 

“I didn’t know,” I said. "What do you 
meat 

“They've let down the bars. 

“I don't understand.” 

“They're letting in Jews.” she said. 
She fired out the last word. 

"Can we change the subject?” I asked 

“I don’t sce why," she said. "You 
brought it up.” 

“My wife is Jewish, Mother,” I said. 
кеев. 
mot possible," 
said. "Her father is It 

“Her father," I said, "is a Polish Jew." 

"Well" Mother said, "I come fom 
old Massachusetts stock and Im not 
ashamed of it, although I don't like 
being called a Yankee. 
"There's a difference 
Your father said that the only good 
Jew was a dead Jew, although I did 
think Justice Brandeis charming.” 

"I think it’s going to rain 


1 how much I 
«cc. 
wed," Mother 


my mother 


1 said. It 
was one of our staple conversational 
switch-offs used to express anger, hun- 
ger, love and the fear of death. 

My wife joined us and Mother 
picked up the routine. “It's nearly cold 
on she said. “When you 
were , you used to pray for snow 
ог ice. И depended upon whether you 
wanted to skate or ski, You were very 
particular. You would kneel by your bed 
and loudly ask God to manipulate the 
elements. You never prayed for anything 
else. I never once heard you ask for а 
ssing on your parents, In the summer 
ач pray at all.” 


The Cabots had two daughters—Ge- 
neva and Molly. Geneva was the older 
and thought to be the more beau 


Molly was my girl for a year or so. She 
was a lovely young woman with a sleepy 
look that was quickly dispelled by a 
brilliant smi 5 pale-brown 
nd held the light. When she was tired 
or excited, sweat formed on her upper 
lip. In the evenings, I would walk to 
their house and sit with her in the 
parlor under the most intense surveil- 


lance. Mr bot, of course, теј 
scx with utter nic. che: 
from the di room. From 


ара 
there were loud and regular Heus 
sounds. This was Amos Cabots rowing 
machine, We were sometimes allowed to 
ks together 
and when I was old enough 
to drive, I took her to the dances at the 
club. 1 was intensely—morbidly—jealous 
and when she seemed to be enjoying 
herself with someone else, E would stand 
in the corner, thinking of suicide. I 
remember driving her back one night to 
the house on Shore Road. 

At the turn of the century, someone 
decided that St. Botolphs might have a 
future as a resort and five mansions com- 
plete with follies were built at the end 
of Shore Road. The Cabots lived in one 
of these, All the mansions had towers. 
These were round with conical roofs, 
rising a story or so above the rest of the 
frame buildings. The towers were strik- 
ingly unmilitary and so I suppose they 
were meant to express romance. What 
did they contain? Dens, I guess, maids’ 
rooms, broken е, and 
they must have been the favorite of 
hornets. I parked my car in front of the 
Cabot nd turned off the lights. The 
house above us was dark, 

It was long ago. so long ago that the 
foli part of the 
summer night. (It was so long ago that 
when you wanted to make a left tu 
you cranked down the car window and 
pointed im that direction, Otherwise, 
you were not allowed to point. Don't 
point, you were told, I can't imagine 
why, unless the gesture was thought to 
be erotic) The dances—the assemblies 
—were formal and I would be wearing a 
tuxedo handed down from my father to 
my brother and from my brother to 
me, like some escutcheon or sumptuary 
torch. [ took Molly in my arms. She 
was completely responsive. I am mot a 


pe of elm wees wa 


tall man (P oam sometimes inclined to 
оор), but the convic 
loved and loving affects me 


ing. Up goes my he 
ight. I am six foot, 
sustained by some clamorous emotional 
uproar. Sometimes my cars ving. It 
nywhere—in a Keisang house 
for example—but it happened 
that night in front of the Cabot’ house 
on Shore Road. Molly said then that she 
had to go. Her mother would be watch- 
ig from а window. She asked me not to 
(continued on page 


seven, 


"Well, a hermit's human." 


99 


lelevision is giving 
its viewers what 
they want—current 
events tricked 

out as entertainment 


article By MICHAEL ARLEN 
LES MIDGLEY, who is the executive pro- 
ducer of the CBS Evening News and 
therefore the man operably responsible 
for what 20,000,000 Americans watch as 
news each evening, six days a week, 52 
weeks а year, is seated at the desk іп his 
office, which is on the ground floor of 
the CBS News Building on West 57th 


100 Street in New York. The CBS News 


Building, one should say, is not much of 
а building as buildings go these days, 
certainly nothing like the CBS setup 
in Los Angeles nor the austere and me- 
ticulous, plant- and Brancusi-filled CBS 
Building that Frank Stanton has erected 
on Sixth Avenue, From the outside, it 
is a nondescript three-story rectangle of 
red brick—a warehouse, perhaps, or an 
Eisenhower post office. Inside—well, it's 
dearly not a post office. Guards. Endless 


narrow corridors. Small offices. Large 
rooms full of teletypes, desks, typewrit 
ers, men in shirt sleeves. A room full of 
tape machines. Banks of tape machines. 
Television screens. The CBS News people 
take pleasure in that they are not in 
Mr. Stanton’s building, in that they are 
over here on the wrong side of Ninth 
Avenue, in a warehouse of a building, 
in their shirt sleeves, putting out an 
electronic evening newspaper 


On the other side of the glass in Midg- 
leys office is the newsroom where the 
Cronkite show is done—a real news. 
room, real desks, real people working at 
the desks. "We don't use a studio like 
NBC," says one of the CBS people. The 
time is four o'clock in the aítemoon. 
A November day; 1971. There are six 
desks in the room, ordinary gray metal 
desks, bunched together into three rows 
In the far row, two men sit typing. The 


man in the red shirt is the chief national- 
news writer. The man in the beard 
writes the foreign news. On the near 
side, one man, who seems to be in his 
early 20s, is holding a phone to his ear 
and typing at the same time. The man 
behind him is also typing. At the front 
desk in the middle row sits Walter 
Cronkite. He has a pile of copy in front 
of him. His lips move as he intones the 
copy in a low voice. He holds a stop 


» 4 


ГИД UA 
PASSION 


ILLUSTRATION BY DON TROUSDELL 


watch in his hand. He pauses in his 
reading, scribbles corrections. Men in 
shirt sleeves pass in and out of the 
room. Girls with clipboards. Engineers 
Inside Midgley's office, the Boston tape 
is over, although Gomer Pyle is still 
running silently on the top two screens, 
"You can take out Henagan,” says 
Midgley. “Не doesn’t make any sense.” 
ап Gould, associate producer, is 
writing on his clipboard. “I can use 


101 


PLAYBOY 


the priest,” he says. 

“The priest doesn’t make any sense 
either,” says Sandy Socolow, who із 
Midgleys assistant, a youngish, plump 

n glasses and a sui 

“It may be understandable in Boston, 
but not here," says Midgley. "What do 
you have down for it? 

“A couple of minutes," says Gould. 

A man runs into the office. “No audio 
from Atlanta.” 

A phone rings. Socolow picks it up. 
"Have you seen your film? Well, was it 
good, bad or indifferent?” 

Midgley is listening in on the other 
phone. “Are you posi 
he asks. 

Socolow says, 


m: 


"OK, what 


us? It’s a selE-cont: 

“No Shakne fore and aft.” says e 

“Мо Shakne,” says Socolow. 

Gould is on his way out of the office. 
“It’s an. R-three," says Socolow to Gould. 

A girl in a black pants suit comes in, 
leaves the latest revised line-up for the 
evening: 1. Open; 2. Cronkite . . . live; 
3. Ft. McPherson | Medina | Morton 
VTR ... 3.00 Atlanta; 4. Cronkite . 
live; 5. First commercial (Absorbine and 
Pontiac)... VTR 8... 1.05; 6. Cronkite 

- live; 7. Washington | Living costs | 
Benton .. . Washington . . . 145— 

In the newseom, some Kind of Burry 
is going on. Cronkite is standing. The 
man in the red shirt and one of the 
other writers are standing at his desk. 
“Goddamn it, get on the phone and find 
out,” Cronkite is saying. 

Ron Vonn, another associate produ 
er, steps into Midgley's office, Midgley is 
sipping a milk shake from a paper cup. 
He looks up. “I talked to Bruce Morton. 
He'll give us voice-over at the end of the 
trial.” Vonn leaves. 

Socolow says, “Threlkeld’s on two-forty- 
six.” Then, "Let me caution you, Mr. 
Midgley. Ron is going to run over.” 

Midgley picks up the phone. "Ron, is 
there anything that's going to raise a 
question of taste with ш? Is there 
any problem with the mother or the 
children?” He nods and puts the phone 
down. “Two-thirty?” he says to Socolow. 

"We have him down for three 
o'clock." says Socolow. 

"OK, two-forty-five, We'll split the 
difference.” 

Vonn comes back in. “It doesn't look 
like the logistics are against us оп ju- 
rors.” Midgley reaches for a switch on 


his desk. The lower TV screen lights up. 
Bruce 


Morton is leaning against a 
i; at the ground. He looks 
"m ready whenever you are,” he 
says with some impatience. "Well, what's 
the matter?" he says. “Bullshit,” he says. 

One of the writers comes in from the 
newsroom. "When are we going to hear 
from Kalb?" he asks. 

"Kalb is supposed to call in by six," 


102 says Midgley. Out in the newsroom, 


Cronkite is standing talking, or appar- 
ently arguing, Socolow. 

Socolow comes back to Midgley. "It's 
the ‘secret meeting’ on Kalb's file. He 
says we have to have more on it or we 
ought to skip it until we do.” 

"I don't blame him," says Midgley. 
He picks up a phone. "Try to get me 
Marvin Kalb in Washington," he says. 

To get to the taping room, you walk 
out of Midgley’s office, pax the news 
room, down a corridor, through a door 
marked NO ADMITTANCE, past a secretary, 
past another No ADMITTANCE door and 
into a large room filled with banks of 
machines. They are very much the new 
machines, our new 20th Century m 
chines—no rows of seamstresses апа sew- 
ing machines, no looms, no great clanking 
wheels, iron, pistons, ugly things. ‘These 
are trim, spare, rectilinear. Taller 
than a man. Gray and white. Now and 
then, a small red or green light. Dials. 
Oscilloscope screens. It is а large room, 
maybe 80’ x 807. There are about 20 of 
these machines. In Ar each of 
them, on a small swivel stool, sits an 
operator. Above his head, on the ma- 
chine, a large roll of tape is unwinding. 
The 8 read, COLOR HOLD . . . GREEN 
GAIN . . . BLUE GAIN, .. У HOLD . . . V SIZE 

.. RED... PLAYBACK CONTROL... BLUE. 
The operator throws a switch. The tape 
roll moves in the opposite direction. 
On a TV screen in the machine, the face 
of F. Lee Bailey appears, talking into a 
microphone. 

"More," says Vonn. Bailey is making a 
speech, although irs hard to hear his 
voice on the machine because of all the 
other machines. Behind Vonn, Gould is 
standing beside another machine, watch- 
ing Henagan in Boston. "OK," says 
Vonn. The operator stops the tape. 
Bailey is still there on the screen in mid- 
sentence. Another man is beside him at 
the microphone. “I want to use the Mor- 
ton audio bridge to get to where this 
guy starts to talk," Vonn says. "I want 
to take it from where Bailey goes over 
to this man and then cut to this close-up.” 
The tape operator throws a switch, the 
tape spins backward, the voices making 
a kind of speeded-up  Disney-cartoon 


rows. 


sound. Then forward: Bailey walking to . 


the microphone, speaking, arm extended. 
Stop, backward. Forward. Backward. 
Vonn stands behind the operator. 

Somebody comes Ьу. "Are we going 
with the San Francisco stuff?" 
don't know," says Vonn 
going to see it at six." 

A phone rings Gould picks it up. 
Listens. Puts it down. "San Francisco 
won't be ready until six-fifteen,” he says. 

“What about Boston?" says Vonn. 

"How do 1 know?" says Gould. “I 
don't see how they have time for it, but 
I'm going to get it ready until they tell 
me to dump it." 

The operator at Vonn's machine has 


"We're 


the tape positioned at the point where 
Bailey is extending his arm toward the 
man on the left. "There?" 

Vonn looks. “Back it off twelve seconds 
and we'll lay video only for that.” 

Bailey's voice comes up: “I've never 
gotten an acquittal for a nicer риу...” 

"OK," Vonn say. "Now 1 want th 
cut to the head to come in right. OK 

On Gould’s machine, Boston school 
children are running down a street. On 
the machine next to him, Chinese soldiers 
are marching in a parade. 

On another bank, Muhammad Ali is 
speaking at a press conference. "I've nev- 
er felt better,” he says against the sound 
of the Chinese military band. 
don't care if we don't hear Bailey 
talking,” says Von 

At six o'clock, the face of Jim Jensen, 
the local CBS newsman, appears on the 
top screen; an NBC man appears on the 
second screen—both without audio. On 
the lower screen, Midgley and Socolow 
are watching Bob Shakne interview a 
convict recently released from Attica. 

“What bothers me,” says Socolow 
the guy coming out so strong, saying he 
was in the uprising. 

Vonn sticks his head in the door. 
"What about San Francisco?" 
Midgley says to Socolow, 
great shape. Relax.” To Vonn, “They're 

in the last San Francisco splices.” 
ays Vonn. 
Midgley says to Socolow. "Cammer- 
bandge has the guy in his apartment, 
doesn’t he? He says he has no doubt 
about his being in cell block D." 

Gould comes into the office. "Is your 
piece ready?" asks Midgley. 

"Attica? Or Boston?" says Could. 

“Boston.” 

Gould shrugs. "I was just given a 
good night on Boston.” 

A phone rings. Socolow says to Midgley, 
"San Francisco is coming on." A picture 
of a woman and two children appears 
on the lower screen. The voice of Dick 
Threlkeld of the a 
tion. The two kids are apparently victims 
of a mysterious killing disease. A third kid 
has already died. These two are now 
becoming sick. It's a sad story. The wom- 
an talks about her belief in God and 
about how she knows the kids won't die. 
Threlkeld's voice tells us there is no 
chance that they will live. Close. 

“Two-twenty,” says Socolow. 

"Damn good piece," says Midgley. 

"Any problems with San Francisco?" 
asks Vonn. 


"None," says Midgley. "It's good. 
Twotwenty. 
Outside in the newsroom, there is a 


good deal of activity. Two cameras are 
being wheeled in. One directly in front 
of Cronkite's desk, the other off to hi 
right, just in front of Midgley's office. 
Cronkite is still working at his desk, 


(continued on page 239) 


miss perrine is out. of this 
world in the film version 
жоі kurt тойлерш, jr’s 
С SslaugMerhiouse-five” — 


The best thing that happens to Billy Pilgrim, the 
Dresden fire-bombing survivar who becames 
“unstuck in time" in Kurt Vonnegut, 

Jr.'s Slaughterhouse-Five, is his meeting—and 
mating—with former blue-movie queen 
Montona Wildhock The best thing that's 
hoppened lately to former Los Vegos showgirl 
—and self-proclaimed kook—Volerie Perrine 
is her chance casting os Montona in the film 
version of the novel, just released by Universal. 
Michael Socks, оз Billy (near right), first 
glimpses Montana in a ptaveov-style centerfold; 
later, the two are separately kidnaped 

ard taken to the extragalactic plonet of 
Tralfamadore, where they become pampered 
zoo specimens. Montano, о! first terrified 
(center right and for right), is finally calmed by 
Billy, whose child she bears at film's end. 


Says Miss Perrine of her first screen role: 
“Montano’s not as kookie as | am. She 
accepts being stuck in outer spoce. I'd 

hove tried to escape.” Volerie did run owoy 
from her parents’ Phoenix home, оНег a yeor's 
study at the University of Arizona in Tucson, 
lying about her age to get o job as a nude 
dancer in Vegas. That finonced a couple of 
extended trips abroad; then, about o yeor 
адо, she headed for Los Angeles. "I was living 
оп food stamps ond unemployment checks, 
recolis, "but my girlfriend, who's а publicist, 
got me on interview with on ogent, who hod 
me tested for the Montana part, olthough | had 
no acting experience. | got it, ond | love it. It's 
the first time in my life I've looked forward 


to going to work." As for us, we lock for- 


word to seeing more of the fine Miss Perrine. 


105 


Herewith, varied views of Valerie—including 
two [above and below) from а movie within a 
movie, the scene in Sloughterhouse-Five that 
features Montana [seen with actor Bryan 
Montgomery} as the stor of an erotic film. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO CASILU AND LARRY BARBIER 


T3441 


ж 


ғ % p 
AL TE — 
fa 


108 


ЕВ SINCE ADAM AND EVE were ban- 
jshed {тот the Garden of Eden, 
man has known that his surround- 
ings influence his behavior. The 

houses we live in, our offices, the space 
around us, the sounds that intrude on our 
daily lives, smells, colors, even the ar- 
rangement of furniture, determine many 
of our actions. (A wellknown contem- 
porary architect, for example, claimed 
that he could design a house that would 
guarantee a divorce for any couple who 
lived in it a month.) 

Man obviously has evolved along with 
his environment, modifying it to suit his 
needs. But somewhere along the line, 
the process got out of hand; the techni- 
cal side of modern civilization assumed a 
life of its own that no longer reflected 
the true needs of its users. Technology, 


МАМЫ HIDDEN 


article By DAVID DEMPSEY saint or misanthrope, success 


ENVIRONMENT 


or failure — what you are can be shaped by where you are 


in conquering nature, has surrounded us 
with a unique man-made environment, 
but for most of us, our physical comforts 
have mace us ill at ease psychologically. 
And our psychological landscape has a 
profound effect on how we behave. For 
example: 

"The decor of a room can influence the 
speed at which we work. In an experi- 
ment at Brandeis University, lab assist- 
ants were assigned three rooms— "ugly," 
"beautiful" and "average"—for the pur- 
pose of giving tests. Examiners in the 
ugly room almost always finished their 
testing faster than those in the two 
other rooms. Moral: Beauty in the envi- 
ronment may not be a virtue if there is 
work to be done. 

A change in the color of our sur. 
roundings changes the pattern of human 


109 


no 


movement. At the University of Kansas 
art museum, investigators tested the 
effects of different-colored walls on two 
groups of visitors to an exhibition of 
prints. For the first group, the room was 
painted light beige; for the second, dark 
brown. Movement was traced by a 
switch mat under the carpet that electri 
cally mapped the visitors’ footsteps. It 
was found that those who entered the 
dark-brown room walked more quickly, 
covered more arca and spent less time in 
the room than the people in the beige 
environment, For whatever reason, dark 
brown stimulated more activity, but the 
activity was concluded sooner. 

Noise is an environmental variable 
that we take for granted, yet и pro- 
foundly affects our moods, our perform- 
ance at work and even our dream life. 
One psychiatrist testified before a New 
York State legislative committee that 
the interruption of nighttime dreams 
by the jet rush of planes impaired the 
mental health of those who lived near 
Kennedy Airport, Dreams, he said, were 
broken off before they could unblock the 
repressions that were bottled up in the 
unconscious. 

Until recently, it was assumed that 
sheer loudness was the culprit in noisy 
situations, but psychologists have con- 
cluded that unevenness of sound is more 
damaging. A factory going full blast on 
a programed schedule was judged quieter 
than a bank whose machines operated in 
fits and starts; the bank finally had to 
hire deaf pcople to reduce employee 
turnover. 

At Columbia University, in an investi 
gation of the effect of density on behav- 
ior, it was found that people working in 
an extremely crowded room performed 
just as efficiently as people who were 
not crowded. However, men under crowd- 
ed conditions became competitive, suspi- 
cious and combative; whereas women were 
less competitive, morc intimate and casicr 
to get along with. In а follow-up experi 
ment, the groups listened to taped court- 
room cases and were asked to render 
verdicts of guilt or innocence. . Results 
showed that men in a smaller, crowded 
room handed out more severe punish- 
ment than those who deliberated im a 
spacious environment. The women's ver- 
dicts, however, were not appreciably af- 
fected by the size or crowding of the 
room. 

Sociologist-architect Kyoshi Izumi, at 
the University of Saskatchewan at Regina, 
says that the use of plastics to simulate 
wood, metal, leather, cloth—even plants 
—sets up an element of doubt in our 
sensing mechanism that is inconsistent 
with what we instinctively feel the en 
vironment ought to be. Subconsciously, 
we resist the synthetic world as we grope 
for the natural. 

‘The sheer 


ze of many buildings we 


live and work in and the sterility of 
much of the “overdesigned” modern ar- 
chitecture are defeating, too. because 
they make it difficult for us to involve 
ourselves with such superstructures in 
any meaningful way. This has been 
cited as the reason for the sabotage of 
Eero Saarinen's stunning but sterile CBS. 
Building in New York by employees 
who cluttered and even defaced thei 
offices in an effort to personalize their 
working space. 

Monotony of decor, the endless corri- 
dors of large buildings, the rows of desks 
in ап office suggest that we are on a 
treadmill and, in Izumi’s words, adverse- 
ly affect “comfortably perceived psychic 
time.” For most people, Izumi thinks, 
time is measured visually; when there is 
an absence of clues, our sense of conti- 
nuity is diminished and we “lose track 
of time. 

Another theory holds that such “time- 
less” environments can make us anxious 
because we are unable to see a future— 
and that our environment must provide 
not only a future but a past and a 
present as well. Using hypnosis, Dr. Ber- 
nard Aaronson was able to induce vari- 
ous combinations of this time sense in a 
group of subjects and, in so doing, cre- 
ate abnormal states of mind. Suggesting 
no past, but only a future, brought on a 
manic condition. When no future was 
suggested, there was depression. The 
rapid build-up of gleaming, glass-walled 
schools and office buildings is believed 
by many psychologists to partly explain 
the existential anxiety so pervasive in the 
industrial nations. Such ultramodern 
structures cut us off from the familiar, 
human milieu of our childhood. Th 
appears to be particularly true of build- 
ings that depart from square or rectan- 
gular form. In his study of the radially 
designed French Radio and ‘Television 
headquarters in Paris, psychiatrist Paul 
Sivadon found an abnormal degree of 
depression among the personnel. One 
reason for this, he concluded, was that 
the long circular corridors, by blocking 
orientation with the out 
ment, create feelings of insecurity. A 
lack of intersecting corridors also con- 
tributes to the sense of being trapped; 
people don't know where they are at 
any given moment. 

Until the early 1960s, most of what we 
knew about human responses to outside 
stimuli came from laboratory experi 
ments or was extrapolated from the be- 
havior of animals. Ivan Pavlov's famous 
conditioned-refiex theory was based on 
his work with dogs. By ringing a bell 
during feeding periods, the Russian sci- 
entist conditioned his animals to salivate 
when the bell was rung, even if there was 
no food. (George Bernard Shaw, when 
told of this experiment, remarked, “If 
they had brought me this problem, I 
could have given them the same answer 


without torturing a single dog.") 

The shortcoming of the behaviorist ap 
proach—whose most persuasive spokesman 
today is Harvard educator B. Е. Skinner 
its extremely narrow view of man’s 
relationship to his physical environment 
For most of us. it's not so much the 
carrot and the stick that influence our 
actions (although they may play a part) 
but the constantly shifting physical and 
social surroundings in which we live and 
work. In a sense, the environment serves 
as a “magnetic field” of subtle and wide- 
ranging psychological forces that we, in 
turn, modify by the way we interact 
with it. 

Moreover, the environment we ob- 
serve is not necessarily the "real" envi 
ronment; depending on our personality, 
our ethnic background or simply our 
mood, what we perceive may be a distor- 
tion of what actually exists. In Los A 
geles, when asked to map the city from 
memory, students at UCLA saw it as a 
whole. For the black residents of Watts. 
however, the important landmarks were 
the county hospital and the city jail, 
where so many of them had been taken 
after the riots. In the jargon of sociolo- 
gy, their perception of the city was cul- 
turally biased. 

All of us at some time look at the en 
vironment through the distorting lenses 
of anger, annoyance and frustration. 
At Ohio State University, students were 
asked to estimate the distance from the 
campus to various points in Columbus. 
Surprisingly. newcomers were remarka- 
bly accurate, but students familiar with 
the city greatly overestimated the num- 
ber of miles to the central business sec- 
tion. Impatience h traffic lights and 
stop signs, and the frayed nerves from 
downtown driving, had made the dis- 
tance seem farther than it was. 

We know that the prick of a needle 
in our hand brings an immediate reflex 
—a withdrawal from pain. A blinding 
flash of light will make us close our eyes. 
"These are simple, protective responses to 
“unfriendly” stimuli. But we are only 
beginning to learn how people adapt 
to less obvious changes. At the Graduate 
Center of the City University of New 
York, psychologists have created an in- 
genious "perception" room to discover 
how people act im a physical setting 
with which they have had no previous 
experience. lt includes a welter of sights 
and sounds that have no obvious relation. 
ship to one another, yet all of which 
compete for attention. 

As а volunteer subject, I found myself. 
in a dim 18’ х 26’ room surrounded by 
aluminized mirrors that. vibrated at vari- 
ous frequencies as | approached them. 
Gargoylelike reflections were thrown back 
at me; strobe lights flashed weirdly at my 
feet; the mirrors gave off a low, rumbli 
sound and pictures were cast onto the 

(continued on page 222) 


а stirring western saga about a former ghost town that looked for 
happiness in gold mines and atom bombs. and finally found it in a pack of wild burros 


article By REG POTTERTON Ат FIRST GLANCE, it is a scene from а 
Saturday-matinee two-reeler: Six men in cowboy hats and gambler's mustaches—thin black lines on the rim of the 
upper lip—sit at a table, drawling and plotting. Their leader, a slight figure in a vest, with a pronounced expres- 
sion of cupidity stamped across his narrow face, listens but seldom speaks. One crony, doubtless a landowner who 
has caused wholesale numbers of sodbusters to haul off and bust sod elsewhere, is studying a map and working up a 
leer that is at once servile and ferocious, the sort of look made famous by Jack Elam in many a similar scenario. 
Others in the group make mutterings of discontented appeasement, the kind that signifies mutiny in the ranks after 
the boss has said something on the order of, “Better tell your boys to lay low for a while, till we see how this new mar- 
shal works out.” In this particular episode, however, no such immortal cliché has disturbed the smoky air; and the 
men at the table, far from being unscrupulous schemers, are the nucleus of the local branch of the Lions Club, 
good fellows tried and true who would no sooner lay a violent finger on a sodbuster than they would be able 


ILLUSTRATION BY ED PASCHKE 


ni 


112 


without considerable thought to tell anyone what a 
sodbuster was. 

On closer examination, it becomes apparent that 
the faces of these worthy citizens are incapable of 
leering, unmarked by a familiarity with either ferocity 
or servility and almost certainly vnacquainted with 
evil in any form. Still, the wish being father to the 
thought, and this being the basement of a barroom in 
the Nevada desert, the first impression takes a strong 
grip on the imagination, and though it turns out to be 
totally inaccurate, it is the sort of flavor the setting 
demands, and let the facts fall where they will. 

The basement is that of the Exchange Club in 
Beatty, Nevada, and the purpose of the meeting is to 
summarize, for the benefit of a visiting stranger, the 
attractions of Beatty and the program of events that 
has been drawn up for the town's most auspicious 
occasion—the World Championship Wild Burro Race. 

‘This momentous affair, now in the second day of 
its three-day run, has been beset by various small 
calamities, not the least of which are the reduced 
number of spectators and the rumor that hookers from 
every brothel in the state have drifted into town and 
carried off some of the more promising contestants. 

Viewed in the light of other globe-shrinking crises, 
these misfortunes may be dismissed by some as trivial; 
but to the good and hospitable people of Beatty, it is 
yet another expression of the evil luck that has 
intermittently plagued the locality ever since the 
golden days of the town’s birth, when it seemed the 
good times would never run out. 

As with individuals, some towns are born great, 
some acquire greatness and others have it thrust upon 
them. In the case of Beatty, however, fate and history 
seem to have combined in relentless apathy to ensure 
that the town never fell into any of these categories. 
Beatty is one of those places that might have been 
and almost was, but isn't; an echo of a promise that 
never quite materialized. 

Everything looked so rosy back in 1904, when the 
town was a community of tents, and men were out in 
the nearby hills, digging gold ore by the wagonload. 
Tents soon gave way to houses, offices, saloons and 
hotels, New towns sprang up all over the desert: 
Bullfrog, Goldfield, Bonanza, Johnnie. Rhyolite, just 
four miles west of Beatty, had a stock exchange, four 
newspapers, 56 saloons, three banks, an ice plant and 
a population of 10,000 or 23,000, depending on the 
source consulted. 

Beatty at first grew faster than its rivals, for it had 
the Armagosa River, which meant water and feed for 
horses, wood for building and a cooler climate. Three 
railroads—the Las Vegas & Tonopah, Bullfrog & 
Goldfield, Tonopah & Tidewater—carried ore ship- 
ments from Beatty to Las Vegas, some 115 miles to the 
south, and helped establish that city as an important 
freight center. The future of the new towns stretched 
into an infinity of wealth; even if the gold gave out, 
there was still copper, silver and lead. Nothing could 
go wrong. 

Then Wall Street delivered itself of the panic of ‘07 
and very suddenly it was all over. The mines closed, 
the people left and the lights in the desert were 
extinguished. All the towns dwindled and died except 


Beatty, but it has been in a prolonged state of 
dwindling ever since. 

Even the tracks and ties of the railroads disap- 
peared, and lengthy stretches of Highway 95 now 
conceal the roadbed of the Las Vegas & Tonopah. 
‘The fancy Montgomery Hotel, where they once served 
lobster and suckling pig, with silver cutlery and 
glassware imported all the way from Paris, France, 
was long ago carted off to a more promising location. 

Many people might find it hard to sustain faith and 
pride in a town where they come and take the build- 
ings away, but the people of Beatty never lost hope. 
They are believers. Not too long ago, it looked as 
though they might be called upon to play a big part 
in the development of nuclear fission through the im- 
portant work going on in the nearby atomic proving 
grounds. Alas, this was not to be. All that happened 
when the Government decided to let off a big one 
underground was that some dude in a suit and 
horn-+ims came into town and advised those who lived 
in old buildings to get out and cross to the other side 
of the street for the explosion. 

But there was a soiled ace up the civic sleeve, and 
though nobody thought to produce it until more than 
50 years after the disaster of '07, it was undeniably a 
winner. Better yet, it meant that the town would never 
again have to fear the machinations of Wall Street 
and the international money jugglers, nor would it 
have to rely on the unfeeling Federal Government 
for its salvation. 

It was on an unrecorded date at the end of the 
Fifties that some of the greatest brains in town met in 
solemn congress and forged the creation that would 
establish Beatty permanently as a truly famous name, 
restoring triumph and a modest, seasonable prosperity. 

"What they did was they invented the now-legend- 
ary World Championship Wild Burro Race, an an- 
nual event of such outstanding futility that it has 
survived for a dozen years—which, if nothing else, is 
four times longer than Beatty's golden era. 

There were, of course, this being Beatty, problems 
from the beginning. Perhaps the most memorable 
was the very first race, which had been trumpeted 
in advance throughout the adjacent states. A tidy 
crowd of tourists arrived, all seduced by the novelty 
and all heartily welcomed as transient investors in the 
Beatty economy. 

It was regrettable, therefore, that the genius of the 
Beatty Lions, having conceived the idea, neglected to 
take into account the fact that if the event were to 
benefit the town, then the course of the race should at 
some point pass through the town. Instead, they 
decreed a finishing line some 46 miles to the west, on 
the edge of Death Valley. 

"Thus it was that on the first of the three days, all 
the spectators gathered at the starting line to watch 
about 40 men and an equal number of burros prepare 
themselves for the gunshots. 

The Beatty Lions were bursting with pride at their 
achievement. Owners of local bars, restaurants and 
other tourist facilities rubbed their hands briskly 
at the size of the crowd. Many of the people had just 
arrived and had not yet had time for a drink, a meal 
or a Spell at the crap table, but tonight—with this 
thirsty, hungry, gambling (continued on page 186) 


113 


rgasm? Don't be ridiculous, my dear!’ 


"Female o 


simple, portable and relatively inexpensive— 
home videotape recorders 


are producing a new wave of instant film makers 


AMPEX instavideo unit can 
show your tennis serve in both slow motion and stop 
action during loter replay. Weighing 21 pounds, 
the model features cartridge load with cutomotic 
threading and con play back on home TV sets as well 
as record off the air (with accessory unit). Available 
later this yeor; cost of system—including camera and 
VCR-505-02 color record/ployback deck—$1700. 


T'S А HOT SUMMER'S DAY and you're poolside with 
friends. You've brought along your camera and 
sometime during the afternoon, you decide to 
film the outdoor fun. You suggest that, for a start, 

everybody take turns going off the high board. 
You load the film, yell “Action!” and your 
girl, prodded by a flash image of herself as star of 

Wide World of Sports, steps to the end of the board 


Е. 


PANASONIC, one of the most mod. 
vlar of the Porta-Paks, consists of a camera, recorder 
ond separate playback-only deck (not shown). Micro- 
phone is detachable for audio flexibility when re- 
cording at parties. Recorder comes with carrying case. 
Trade name reads in reverse because a mirror was 
used to show the top of each unit. Cost of Model 
NV-3080 recorder and WY-8080 camera only: $1250. 


and executes what she feels is a perfect swan. You 
stop the camera, rewind the film and watch it play 
back through the view finder. No, that didn't quite 
make it. She comes across as someone who's hastily 
abandoning ship. You decide to take the sequence 
over again, back up once more and reshoot, but 
you're not worried —you've got up to 30 minutes of 
Shooting time without having to change a recl or 


115 


SONY Videorover ІІ can be 
run on botteries, but comes with an A.C. adapter 
for use at home. Microphone is built in and electronic 
view finder doubles as tiny TV screen for viewing in- 
stant replay. Tapes are interchangeable with those of 
other Porta-Paks subscribing to Type | standard. Unit 
also has automatic shutoff. Model AV-3400 record/ 
playback deck, plus AVC-3400 camera: $1650. 


a cartridge, and you go from the high-board bit to 
a no-holds-barred game of water polo. The action 
rolls on and you realize with satisfaction that the 
camera’s builtin microphone is picking up the 
giggles and the shouts in perfect lipsync sound. 
When you get back to your pad, everybody 
gathers round while you set up for an immediate 
showing—by plugging your camera equipment into 


| 


AKAI demonstrates that low 
noise of Porta-Pak ollows operator to be a candid 
comeraman. Unit features optical view finding with 
instant-replay monitor attached to side of record/ 
playback deck. Model VTS-110DX uses Y4 -inch tape 
with 20-minute recording time. Off-the-air record ca- 
pability is possible from monitor. Cost: $1595. (Model 
VTS-100S, similar but with fewer feotures: $1295.) 


your home TV set—and watches the afternoon's 
festivities on the big 25-inch screen, complete with 
laughter and the sound of splashing water. 
Fantastic? Yes. Science fiction? No. You can do it 
today and it’s part of the most important revolution 
in communication since Gutenberg became a print- 
er. The catch, of course, is that your camera was 
actually a miniature TV camera connected by a 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY BILL ARSENAULT 


17 


PLAYBOY 


18 


short cable to a portable video-tape ri 
corder that uses magnetic tape very simi- 
lar to the tape you use in your audiotape 
recorder, and in much the same way. 
Called Porta-Paks, the units record 
both sight and sound and are becoming 
available in increasing numbers and mod- 
els from companies that have long special- 
ized in audiotape recorders—Sony, Akai, 
Panasonic, JVC, Ampex and a dozen 
others. The revolution received its final 
seal of approval earlier this year in Chi- 
cago when Sears, Roebuck ran a two-page 
newspaper ad for a console-model саг 
tridge television set. The unit will play 
prerecorded cartridges, record off the a 


in black and white or color and comes 
with а small camera h you can 
tape your own home " Unlike 


the Porta-Paks, the camera is attached to 
the console by an umbilical cord. At the 
introducing its 
video-cassette system, but its 
market thrust was aimed primarily at 
industrial users. 
Where the revol: 
ever, is with the proliferating Porta-Paks. 
With a portable videotape recorder, you 
can go almost anyplace and record almost 
anything —which explains why such units 
are the favorites of underground. video- 
tape makers eager to present 
seldom seen on commercial 


television, 
manufacturers who want to make on-the- 


spot training tapes, police departments 
needing a method to record evidence at 
the scene of a crime, schools anxious to 
free lecturers from endlessly repeating the 
same material and companies that figure 
it’s cheaper to send out a doren taped 
sales presentations than a dozen live 
salesmen. 

For home users, the possibilities are 
overwhelming. Granted that the console 
cartridge—which will eventually open 
up a vast library of prerecorded material 
—will free the home viewer from the 
minima! selection of programs usually 
offered, the ability to record off the 
for viewing later (an ability shared by 
many Porta-Paks) will also free him 
from the time tyranny of the local TV 
schedule. In short, he can become his own 
program director. 

But most important, it means that for 
the first time, the vast TV audience has 
a chance to make and screen own 
product that now absolutely anybody 
can be a star. Or, as Chicago Daily News 
ТУ critic Norman Mark puts it, "A flick 
of the switch and there you are, 
same spot where Bob Hope or Johnny 
Carson was just а moment before.” For 
the average TV addict, that possibility 
may be a heady one, indeed. 

Why tape and not film? There are a 
multitude of reasons, and all of them 
imply, as one critic claims, that film is 
yesterday's technology and may well be 
superseded by tape, whose advantages 
are manifold: 


the 


+ Ease of operation. No special knowl- 
edge of lenses or film speeds is required; 
the Porta-Paks are as casy to use as 
any audiotape recorder (and easier than 
some). 

+ Instant replay—no processing. You 
can shoot tape and replay it instantly, 
either on the screen of a monitor TV or 
(with the aid of an inexpensive convert- 
er) on almos any home TV set. You 
don't have to take your tape to the local 
taperecorder shop nor send it away for 
processing, with the inevitable time lag 
of at least several days between shooting 
and finished product. 

+ Synchronized sound. Conversation, 
are recorded right оп the 
tape, along with the picture. No sepa- 
rate sound-track preparation is required, 
as is usually the case with film. 

* Inexpensive. A half hour of half-inch 
black-and-white tape will тип between 
$12 and $15 (even less for quarter 
inch) A half hour of Super8 color 
(which you have to assemble from stand- 
ard cartridges averaging a little less 
than three minutes each), developed 
and with sound, will run about $80— 
and that's a minimum figure, since most 
film buffs find they have to shoot three 
or four times as much actual footage to 
get exactly what they want. 

+ Reusable. The $12-to-$15 figure may 
be misleading. Unlike film, tape can be 
erased and reused; experts estimate that 
a reel of tape can be reused perhaps 100 
times before the tape shows signs of 
wear. И, in practice, it turns out to be 
only a quarter of that, each half-hour 
shot (assuming you don't want to save 
the tape for posterity) will still cost less 
than a dollar. This also means that if 
you make a mistake, you can rewind 
the tape (after frst verifying the error 
through instant replay via the electronic 
view finder or a monitor scope) and 
reshoot immediately (reshooting auto- 
matically erases what you shot before). 
With film, days may go by before you 
even discover that you made a mistake 
—and then you're stuck with it. 

+ Cheap and immediate copies. It’s just 
as easy to make dupes with video tape as 
with audio tape. 

Put all these assets together and 
you've got an argument for video tape 
that more than justifies the initial cost 
of the equipment ($1600 is the approxi- 
mate price of the average Porta-Pak, as 
well as the Sears console). Summarized 
by Norman Mark, "With film, суету time 
you push the button, you're pushing a 
lot of money through that camera, plus 
you have to deal with the fact that 
Super-8 cartridges are only good for a 
few minutes. That means you have to 
plan ahead for all your shots, that you 
lose spontaneity. With video tape, be- 
cause it’s so cheap and a reel is good 
for half an hour, you've got freedom of 


time. You can shoot hours and hours of 
video tape, erasing and reshooting until 
you get exactly what you want. And 
when you show it at home, you don't 
have to have a special projector or set 
up a screen or turn off the lights—just 
plug it into your TV set." 

Drawbacks? Compared with some film 
equipment, a Porta-Pak is expensive, 


as good as that obt 
(though it compares favorably with 
what you ordinarily get on your home 
TV set), and small, inexpensive color- 
TV cameras aren't yet available (though 
it probably won't be long before they 
are). Portable videotape units weigh 
about 20 pounds, counting the с 
and the record/playback deck, as op 
posed to, say, seven pounds for 
8 camera and an accessory 
recorder. Editing isn’t as easy as wii 
film (film can be snipped and cemented 
together again; with tape, you have to 
rerecord on an editing deck those por- 
tions of the original tape or tapes that 
you wish to retain—though this has the 
advantage of leaving your original tape 
intact). Really professional editing in 
cither medium is apt to be tedious and 
expensive. 

"There is also a lack of standardization 
among the various manufacturers. Tape 
zes vary, as do recording speeds and 
systems. The equipment itself is becom 
ing as varied as stereo components, which 
in the long run will probably be a good 
thing but initially may pose a prob 
lem for the would-be purchaser. As it 
stands, some decks are complete record | 
playback units while others only record 
and the reel of tape has to be shift 
ed to a playback machine for viewing 
As far as the halfinch tape units go. 
more and more companies are shifting 
to new industry standards (Type 1 for 
black and white), so tapes are now inter 
changeable among most Porta-Paks; that 
is, a tape made on one machine can usu 
ally be played back on another (Sony, 
sonic, Shibaden, Ampex, et al, make 

alf-inch units that subscribe 10 the 
Туре I standard—though the Ampex 
tape comes in cartridge form and cannot 
be used directly on other machines) 

Instant-replay facilities also vary from 
unit to unit, though. most decks can be 
plugged into a monitor screen or, via a 
verter, into your home TV set, Some 


mera 


is use the camera view finder —which 


may actually be а miniature TV screen 
—as a monitor for instant replay while 
out in the field, which limits viewing to 
the camera operator. The Akai camera, 
however, uses an optical-reflex. system 
for view finding, while the instant re 
play can be seen on a threeinch mon 
tor scope attached to the recording deck, 

(continued on page 189) 


CHAIRMAN МАО, І PRESUME 


you think you really know what nixon 
did in china? boy, ате you in for a surprise 


humor By SOLWEINSTEIN “East is East апа west is West and never the Twain shall 


meet." We don't recall who said it—Mark Twain, Rudyard Kipling, Stanley Myron Handel- 
man—but whoever did was proved dead wrong when the U.S. and China recently concluded 
the first stage of their stunning rapprochement. By now the world has been surfeited with TV 
and journalistic coverage of the historic event, but how much of it was truth and how much 
mere window dressing? After all, haven't we learned from the Pentagon papers, Jack Anderson 
and Spiro Agnew that governments and the news media have often bcen guilty of stage- 
managing events to suit their own nefarious purposes? Not about to be suckered into publish- 
ing mendacious handouts, PLaYwoy shrewdly decided to send its own observer to the scene, 
a man singularly qualified to dig out the real facts. As creator of master spy Israel Bond, he 
experienced no problems whatsoever sneaking into mainland China. The official Big Bunny 
jet strayed over the Chinese border and our man bailed out at 20,000 feet, thwarting the Red 
radar that could have picked up his parachute—by deplaning (continued on page 122) 


WHEN 
THE 
TWERMS 
CAME 


fantasy BY 


their invasion 
fleet was a 
mickey mouse force, 
but they had 
learned earth’s 
most important secret 


ILLUSTRATED 
BY SKIP WILLIAMSON 


WE NOW KNOW (LITTLE CONSOLATION THOUGH 
THIS PROVIDES) THAT THE TWERMS WERE 
FLEEING FROM THEIR HEREDITARY ENEMIES. 
THE MUCOIDS, WHEN THEY FIRST OETECTED 

EARTH ON THEIR FAR-RANGING OMPHALO: 
SCOPES, THEREAFTER, THEY REACTED WITH 
ASTONISHING SPEED AND CUNNING. 

IN A FEW WEEKS OF RADIO MONITORING, 
THEY ACCUMULATED BILLIONS OF WORDS OF 
ELECTROPRINT FROM THE SATELLITE NEWS 
PAD SERVICES MIRACULOUS LINGUISTS, 

THEY SWIFTLY MASTERED THE MAIN 
TERRESTRIAL LANGUAGES. 


MORE THAN THAT. THEY ANALYZEO OUR CULTURE. OUR TECHNOLOGY, OUR 


POLITICAL-ECONOMIC SYSTEMS—OUR DEFENSES. THEIR KEEN INTELLECTS. 
GOADEO BY CESPERATION, TOOK ONLY MONTHS TO IDENTIFY OUR WEAK 
POINTS ANO TO DEVISE A DIABOLICALLY EFFECTIVE PLAN СЕ CAMPAIGN. 

THEY KNEW THAT THE U.S, AND THE U.S.S.R. POSSESSED BETWEEN THEM 
ALMOST A TERATON OF WAR HEADS. THE 15 OTHER. 


| 
| 


NUCLEAR POW: 
ERSMIGHTMUSTER 
ONLY A FEW SCORE 
GIGATONS ANO 
LIMITED DELIVERY 
SYSTEMS. BUT EVEN 
THIS MODEST CON. 
TRIBUTION COULD 
BE EMBARRASSING 
TO AN INVADER. IT 
WAS THEREFORE 
ESSENTIAL THAT 


CONSIDER A 
DIRECT ATTACK ON 
THE PENTAGON, THE, 
RED FORT. THE 
KREMLIN AND THE 
OTHER CENTERS OF 
MILITARY POWER. 
IF SO, THEY SOON 
DISMISSED SUCH 
МАМЕ CONCEPTS. 
WITH А SUBTLETY 
THAT, AFTER THE 
EVENT, WE CAN 
NOW RUEFULLY 
APPRECIATE 


AWET SUNDAY MORNING 


PSYCHEDELIC RAY. 


THE WEAPONS THEY EMPLOYED 


THE ICHING BEAM (WHICH 
TURNEO STAIO BURGHERS INTO 
INSTANT NUDISTS). 


THEY SELECTED OUR MOST COMPACT. АМО 
MOST VULNERABLE, AREA OF SENSITIVITY, 
THEIR INSULTINGLY MINUSCULE FLEET 
ATTACKED AT FOUR A.M EUROPEAN TIME ON 


Ё ۶ 
THE OREADED DIARRHEA BOMB 


АМО THE OEBILITATING TUMESCENT 


AEROSOL SPRAY. 


THEIR MAIN FORCE (THREE. 
SHIPS) ATTACKED ZURICH. ONE 
VESSEL EACH SUFFICED FOR 
GENEVA, BASEL AND BERN. 


TUGBOAT TO DEAL WITH VADUZ. | 
NO ARMOR PLATE COULD 
RESIST THEIR LASER-EQUIPPED 


ROBOTS | 


THE SCANNING CAMERAS THEY CARRIED IN THEIR VENTRAL PALPS COULD. 
RECORO A BILLION BITS OF INFORMATION A SECOND. BEFORE BREAKFAST TIME, 
THEY KNEW THE OWNERS OF EVERY NUMBEREO BANK ACCOUNT IN SWITZERLAND. 


THEREAFTER. APART FROM THE DISPATCH OF SEVERAL THOUSAND SPECIAL 
DELIVERY LETTERS BY FIRST POST MONDAY MORNING, THE CONQUEST OF 
EARTH WAS COMPLETE. 


PLAYBOY 


122 


CHAIRMAN МАО, І PRESUME (continued from page 119) 


without one. In the process, he shattered 
the world record for free falling, plus a 
few vital organs. After the conference dis- 
banded, he stole out of China in an 
atomicpowered sampan and filed the 
following hard-nosed dispatch. 

WITH THE NIXON PARTY IN CHINA: Stand- 
ing an arm's length from the Great Wall 
of China to which he and his oficial party 
had been ferried by helicopter on this, 
his first ceremonial day of the Opening 
of the East Richard Milhous Nixon, 
President of the United States of America, 
had a queasy feeling that his response to 
Chou's welcoming oration had thus far 
bcen an unmitigated disaster. 

1t had gone downhill from the outset, 
when, at the moment he'd gazed at the 
wall, he'd surrendered to an old hawkish 
strain coursing somewhere deep inside 
and. before he could check it. he'd 
cocked a bellicose fist at the 30-foot- 
high structure and thundered, “Ich bin 
ein Berline: which had evoked a 
strangulated gasp from Henry Kissinger 
and a moue of disdainful amusement 
from Chou. 

Well. it was time to recoup by human- 
izing his summation, by scrapping the 
leaden clichés that had drawn no more 
than scattered handfuls of polite ap- 
plause from the sea of yellow ringing 
the platform. “And so, Mr. Chairman, 
and Mr. Premier, if 1 may digress from 
my prepared remarks" (No, no! Kissin- 
ger winced, a hint of fear on his usually 
imperturbable visage), "as we launch these 
discussions on matters vital to our two 
great nations, let me just say that this 
architectural wonder of the world, this 
truly great Great Wall of China"—he 
smartly jabbed out a debater's finger, 
made contact, gulped as a section of the 
wall buckled and collapsed with a roar 
into a mound of rubble, then cringed as 
an irate murmur like 3,000,000 disturbed 
yellow jackets escaped from as many 
throats. “I'll have George Meany send 
over a wonderful gang of American 
hard-hats; they'll have that break re- 
paired іп a jiffy and it won't cost you 
fellas—and get this one, now," and the 
Quaker chuckled, for here was h n 
opportunity to zing in the first of reams 
of surefire Chinese jokes supplied him 
by the Laugh-In writers as a reward for 
an appearance he'd made on the show 
before his election, "a Red cent!" 
roared a Chinese general, in 
a typical knee-jerk reaction. "These 
hard-hats will all be saboteurs, bourgeois 
revisionists!” 

‘Shut up. you fool!” Chou snapped. 
“If we play our fan-tan right, we'll get 
them to fix the whole cockamamie wall 
for nothing.” Out of respect to Мао, 
however, he and the others looked to 
their leader for a policy guideline cover- 


ing the contretemps, but the old man, 
looking far off to the horizon, muttered 
mechanically, “The guerrillas are the 
fish and the people are the sea. . . .” 

Senile, the Quaker exulted. By Heav- 
en, the old war horse is sei 
ened by the thought, he ad- 
way onward. “This wall, once construct- 
ed to keep out China's ancient foes, can 
now become a"—he snapped his fingers 

“а bridge over troubled waters." 

His speech was shattered by an ack- 
acklike burst of Chinese. The Quaker's 
eyes messaged those of his crewcut, sandy- 
haired interpreter, Major Duane Wes- 
cott: What are they saying, Major? And 
Wescott whispered, "It's Chinese for 
schmuck, sir.” 

“Better wind it up, Mr. President,” 
Kissinger chirped. 

With a barely audible “Thank you, 
Mr. Chairman and Mr. Premier,” the 
Quaker sat down heavily, tugged a han- 
ky from the breast pocket of his dark 
suit and blotted up the moisture from 
his glistening |оміз. Whew! That had 
been a toughie, maybe worse than the 
first Kennedy TV debate or even the 
“Checkers” speech. I never realized there 
were so many of those sneaky little 
cockers. .. . 

A few minutes later, he was aboard the 
Presidential helicopter. "Henry," the 
Quaker said, tapping his aide’s shoulder, 
"what's your assessment of our perform- 
ance back there?” 

“You did fine, sir,” Kissinger answered 
woodenly, his own thoughts thousands 
of miles away at a Hollywood poolside 
where Jill St. John at that very moment 
was working suntan lotion lovingly into 
her splendid limbs. 

“Sirs!” Kissinger was jolted out of 
his reverie by the excited pilot. “Look 
down there!" 

Stretched out on the ground, some 
two miles below, as far as the eye could 
see, were the words: WELCOME TO THE 
PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA, NUMBER ONE 
RUNNING DOG OF THE PAPER TIGER IM- 
FERIALIST WORLD. WHILE YOU'RE IN TOWN, 
WHY NOT PICK UP А COPY OF "QUOTATIONS 
FROM THE CHAIRMAN” NOW AVAILABLE IN 
PAPERBACK AT $1.25 IN YOUR FAST WEAKEN- 
ING CAPITALISTIC CURRENCY? 

"Wow!" ejaculated the awestruck 
pilot. "Three million gooks have spelled 
ош that greeting with their bodies. 

"Very impressive," the Quaker reflect- 
ed. “I've seen some really swell card- 
section work at USC-UCLA games, but 
nothing to match this. Not a misspelling 
or a comma out of place. You know, 
there's a lot of discipline in this coun- 
try that, if harnessed properly, could 
fit quite neatly into our scheme of 
things. Dollars to doughnuts those kids 
down there don't squander their energies 


on pot.” 


“Sir!” The pilots second interrup- 
tion held extreme anxiety. “I've just 
been ordered by Chicom control to tell 
you and Dr. Kissinger to shield your 
eyes on the double! 

“What the ^ But the Quaker com- 
plied and Kissinger also screwed his eyes 
shut. It wasn't enough to entirely ward 
off the sudden bright flash, and when 
they opened their eyes and felt the cop- 
ter buffeting, they shuddered at the 
mushroom cloud boiling up out of the 
gigantic word formation. For a minute, 
the greeting wavered like a column of 
driver ants scattered by the wheels of a 
safari lorry, then it pulled tightly back 
into formation again. 

"My God!” the Quaker raged. 
“They've set off a пике! Are they stark 
raving mad, endangering the President 
of the United States like that? Do they 
want a holocaust, because, by God, if 
they do. . 

In the rear of the chopper trembled 
the omnipresent Presidential shadow, 
sandy-haired, crewcut Brigadier General 
Lane Prescott, who kept in his lap a 
black box containi the codes that 
would unleash a nuclear World War 
Three. Oh, Lord, ihis is it - this is 
LM 

"There's nothing to be concerned 
about, Mr. President,” Kissinger re- 
marked matterokfactly, manifesting his 
storied cool in the face of the unex- 
pected, for his methodical mind had al- 
ready accounted for this bizarre Chinese 
stratagem. 

"I сап think of at least four reasons 
why Mao—and, most certainly, this is 
his handiwork, not Chou's—ordered this 
litde fireworks display, which, inciden- 
tally, sir, I wouldn't worry about too 
much. It didn't amount to more than a 
kiloton, or one twentieth of the Hiro- 
shima blast, so our excellent pilot should 
have no trouble skirting the cloud. One, 
the old boy wants to remind you he has 
the bomb and isn't at all hesitant about 
using it. Two, he's demonstrating graph- 
ically he doesnt give a damn about 
expending Chinese lives if it ever comes 
to an all-out show, and I'm sure he just 
used up a hundred thousand or so. Three, 
he wants you to note how disciplined and 
fearless his legions are: see how they're 
ignoring the heat and radioactivity by 
re-forming the greeting? And four, he's 
trying to gouge an extra quarter out of 
you. Look at the statement no 

‘The Quaker peeked down. noting 
that the figure now read $1.50. 

"If 1 were you, Mr. President,” Kissin- 
ger said, "I'd ignore Mao's pyrotechni. 
completely. I'm sure you've spotted 1 
senescence and reckoned it will be 
valuable to us when you start dickering.’ 

“You're correct, as usual, Henry,” the 
Quaker said. Then, turning to address 
the ashen-faced code carrier, he solemnly 

(continued on page 194) 


IN SEARCH OF LOS ANGELES 


article By JOHN CLELLON HOLMES is this the embodiment 
of the most awesome—or the most appalling—of our dreams? 


IT was 6:30 of a bland, midweek morning and, like millions of other people in 
Los Angeles at that hour, 1 was indulging a fantasy. For years back East, 
it had seemed to me that the quintessential Southern California experience 
would be sitting behind the wheel of a powerful American car, tooling out 
to Malibu on a morning that smelled like a fresh sliced cucumber. And now 
here | was—in a rented '71 Galaxie, on my way to the beach, the sun just 
gilding the shaggy fronds of the palms along Santa Monica Boulevard, and 
the last day of my trip stretching ahead of me. 

1 had come to Los Angeles to get a firmer imaginative grip on the milieu 
of a novel that was based on the premise that (continued on page 150) 


DESIGNED By ROY MOODY/ PHOTOGRAPHED BY BILL ARSENAULT 


who was the mysterious old clown whose comedy 
had made two grown-up children happy? 


fiction By WILLIAM FIFIELD Alı OUR PRETTY WORLD, so carefully 
built, collapsed in a day. Her hubsand in Paris assumed that she was with 
relatives in Lyons; my wife in London believed that I was working out details 
of a contract in Milan. As for us, we were supposed to be looking, from our 
villa balcony in Grimaldi, at the diamond glitter of Monte Carlo and Nice 
starring the soft darkness of the coast —and we were meant to say the age-old 
things that all lovers say. Hopes, lies, scenery, endearments, intoxication; mud. 
An hour after we had unpacked, the rain began. Another hour later, we had 
our first vicious quarrel. 

Early the next morning, I took a lonely walk in the downpour. І came 
across an abandoned quarry in the hills, strewn with rotting carnations, and I 
saw a beautiful, amber Persian cat chewing at the throat of a dead rat. A 
morbidity seemed to rise from the ground as I walked on. The smell of jasmine 
became intolerably sweet. The coast line had disappeared in a vast silver tar- 
nish, and up above Ventimiglia in the pre-Alps, the rivulets had flooded. They 
came together in a torrent at the break in the (continued on page 236) 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE ROTH 


denver’s deanna 
baker leads a 
liberated life 

as pool bunny, 
judo expert, 
part-time 
entrepreneur and 
full-time 


conservationist 


FREEDOM 
NOW! 


DEANNA BAKER, 22, lives across 
the street from. Denver's Hun- 
garian Freedom Park. "Some- 
how, I think that's significant," 
she says. “It’s not so much the 
monument to the Hungarian 
patriots of 1956—but the name 
of the place, Freedom Park, 
that means something special 
to me.” Any keyholder who 
visits Denver's Playboy Club 
and plays a round of bumper 
pool with the expert Miss 
Baker is likely to feel there's 
something special about her as 
well. Deanna, who was raised 
in Kirksville, Missouri, a small 
state-college town of about 
16,000, moved to Denver in 
1969. "I simply had to make a 
change in my life, get away 
from home," she says "and 
Denver seemed like a good 
place to try it" In June 1970, 
she began working as a Bunny 
and she's been sharpening 
her cue technique ever since. 
Besides a marked improvement 
in her massé shot, Deanna 
feels her job has brought 
her other benefits. "As a Pool 
Bunny, I have an opport 
to establish one-to-one relation- 
ships with Club guests on a 
126 basis other than ‘Can I get 


Far left: For severol years, 
Deanna has actively pursued the 
ancient Japanese art of judo. 

As she dons the loosely fitting 
gi, Miss Baker thinks about 
some holds she learned in 

her last class. Near left: 
After о brief review period, 
Deanna and instructor Jack Oliver 
practice а fall. "Many men I've 
met cringe when | tell them 

I've taken judo,” she says. 

"They don't realize that o 

woman, no matter haw skilled she 
is, will usually avoid striking an 
oppanent; she'll just try to surprise 
him enough sa she can escape.” 


ater ARREST 


$ 
ч 
1 


Miss Baker proves to be a for- 
midable student as she braces 

for a standing throw on Oliver 
(left). Deanna claims she's had 

to use her training only once: 

“А seemingly strait-laced busi- 
nessman offered me a lift," she 
recalls, “but it turned out he 
wanted to take me for mare than 
a ride. Luckily, | remembered 
how to do the break fall, which 
distributes an impact along the 
side of your body. So | leoped 
avt of the car, and all 1 got 

was a few scratches.” Above: 
Class over, Deanna hurries home. 127 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY DWIGHT HOOKER AND BRUCE MCBROOM 


Whenever she can, Deanna 
leaves the city for the less 
confining atmosphere of a 
friend's ranch in the foot- 

hills, where the attractions 
include several pieces of 
whimsical playground equipment 
(ен). “I guess toys appeal 

to the kid in me,“ she says. 


you another cocktail, sir?” Late- 
ly. perhaps because of this ex- 
perience, I've sensed that I've 
become more flexible and un- 
derstanding in dealing with 
people." A formidable oppo- 
nent at the pool table, Deanna 
excels at more strenuous sports, 
too. While in high school, she 
competed in track-and-field 
events and organized a girls’ 
softball team. After graduation, 
Deanna took a job as copy 
writer and secretary for a 
hometown radio-and-television 
station. “Then I went to work 
at 2n osteopathic hospital 
Partly out of boredom and 
partly because I think every 
woman can use some education 
in self-defense, I also enrolled 
in a judo cla: Although 
judo degrees are awarded at 
a shiai (certified competition), 
Deanna has attained the equiv- 
alent of a brown belt in un 
official contests At present, 
she's involved in efforts to pre- 
serve the Colorado mountain 
wilderness. To raise funds, 
Miss Baker is participating 
with a friend in a novel ci 
treprencurial venture. “The 
idea,” she says, “is to develop 
a business that deals directly 
with the long-hairs and coun- 
terculture kids who distrust 
most business enterprises. We 
are selling head products like 
pipes, sheepskins and Indian 
incense. Our goal, when we 
start making enough money, is 
to buy land in the Rockies. My 
personal dream is to restore 
a mountain area to its ecologi- 
cal balance—and I'm deer- 
mined to do it, even if I 
have to move onto the prop- 
erty and do all the work my- 
self." That seems an unlikely 
prospect; we'll venture a guess 
Deanna will have no trouble 
recruiting whole brigades of 
willing volunteers, whatever 
project she sets her mind to. 


A balming bath readies 
Deanna for her Club duties, 
which begin with the selection of 
ап apprapriate Bunny Costume (be- 
low left) and a zip-up assist 

from a fellow cottantail, Carol 

Ann Hughes (below). I laok 
forward to wark each time | ga,” 
says Miss Boker, “although I’m glod 
it’s only three nights a week. 

I'm not really a salitary person, 

but | need а lot of time that's all 
my ovn. 1 suppose the ambitian of 
many Playmates is to model or act; 
1he idea of having a regular career 
just doesn't turn me an.” 


> 
«за. 


After а last-minute adjustment 

with Carol and another Bunny, 
Kathy Graham (far left), Deanna 

is at her bumper-paol post in the 
Denver hutch (near left), ready 

ta take an all challengers for 

the Vici Cuniculam (1 Вес! the 
Bunny) award. "People are always 
asking me what I'd like ta da if 

1 ever stopped working as a 
Bunny," she says. “Well, | don't 
want to get trapped into speculat- 
ing too much about the future, but 

1 may soon enroll іп some art classes 
at Metropolitan State in Denver. 
Who knows, | might even teach.” 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES 


The exceedingly well-engineered blonde іп 
hotpants was hawking mechanical pencils on 
the street. Intrigued, the handsome executive 
stopped to satisfy his curiosity. 
“They're a quarter cach, sir,” said the girl, 
nd each one comes filled with lead—and if 
you want to expel the lead from your pencil, 
you can do so at my apartment right around 
the corner for an additional twenty dollars.” 


An ecology expert we know says that air pol- 
lution is really making us pay through the nose. 


Huh!" snorted the girl to the nervous young 

шап beside her. "Here you were telling me all 

those stories about the orgies you said you'd 

been to, and now that we're in bed together 
can't do a thing!” 

“I know, I know, 

I've never been alone with a girl before." 


Sign in a gay nudist colony: cxNTLEMEN 
PLAYING LEAPFROG ARE REQUESTED TO COMPLETE 
‘THEIR LEAPS. 


The aspiring young actress had found rough 
going in the big city and eventually switched 
from walk-on bits to a live sex show. “Mom,” 
she said during a long-distance call back to the 
farm, “I'm doing а new dramatic role. Т opened 
last night." 

“What part do you play, dear?” 

“Well, it's a little difficult to describe to 
you, Mom. I'm what I suppose you might 
tall a girl underdog, very much put upon. I 
don’t get to say a lot, except for some q 
dramatic exclamations at the end, but I'm 
involved in plenty of movement and stage busi 
ness that keeps me the center of attention.” 

“That sounds wonderful, darling. 1 hope 
your opening was a success. Did many people 
come?” 

“Yes, Mom, and they were most respon: 
When I finished, I don't think there was a 
handkerchief in the house.” 


гу 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines quickie as 
а moment's piece. 


A week after their marriage, the newlyweds 
paid a visit to their doctor. She waited while her 
husband went into the office. 
I can't figure it out, Doc," said the young 
but my testicles are turning blue.” 
doctor examined him and then asked 
the wife to step in. 
“Are you using the diaphragm that I sug- 
gested?” questioned the medical man. 
“Yes, Lum,” she replied. 
"What kind of jelly are you using?" 
Grape.” 


Johnny, visiting the zoo with his father, 
l'in fascination at the elephant. "Hey, 
he asked, "what's that thing hanging 


"Why, that's the elephant's trunk,” 
replied, 

"No, I mean there, in back." 

"Oh. the tail.” 

"Nah," Johnny persisted. “I mean there, 
between his legs.” 

“That's the elephanrs penis.” 
"Thats funny," Johnny mused. "Last time 
we were here, Mommy said it was nothing.” 

“Well, son,” replied his father, “you must r 
member your mother is a very spoiled woman. 


is father 


With the current popularity of mate swapping 
in some circles, we wonder if there wouldn't. 
he a market for a directory titled Who's Whose. 


Two middl 1 gentlemen in the club locker 
room were discussing their sex-organ trans- 
plants. “Mine cost five thousand dollars,” said 
the first fellow, “but it sure was worth it. I'm a 
new man now, ready for anything!” 

“Mine cost much less than that," said the 
second man, “but it’s been a disappointment.” 

“No wonder,” said the first fellow, taking a 
doser look. “That's my trade-in!” 


Someone has told us that Voyeurs’ Libera- 
tion Front is being organized. Its slogan? 
"Power to the Peepholel" of course. 


The married couple was having a heated argu- 
ment. Finally, the wife exclaimed, “I was a 
fool when I married you!” 

“L suppose you were,” the husband calmly 
replied, "but 1 was so horny at the time that 
1 didn't even notice." 


px r 
— _> 


An old man was polishing the antique lamp 
he'd just purchased in a junk shop, when a 
genie popped out of a cloud of smoke and 
granted him three wishes. The lucky lamp 
owner immediately asked for a new car and 
$10,000,000, whereupon a shiny Cadillac filled 
with stacks of $1000 bills appeared. His cyes 
gleaming, the clderly fellow used his last wish. 
71 want to be between the thighs of a beautiful 
woman. 

The genie vanished back into the lamp and 
the old gentleman turned into a ‘Tampax. 


Heard a funny one lately? Send it on a post- 
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 
Playboy Bldg., 919 М. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 
ТИ. 60611. $50 will be paid to the contributor 
whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned. 


"Hold ш!” 


135 


"FOR MY 
NEXT 
ACT, IM 
GOING 
TO SET 
MYSELF 
ON FIRE” 


aaa 
— а. 


craig breedlove, a deposed land-speed king with a prince valiant 
haircut, is again eying the bonneville salt flats—so back up, everybody 


personality By WILLIAM МЕНҮ не yocs atone Redondo Beach every morning now, not be- 
cause he's worried about the flatness of his stomach; his stomach is way down on the list of things he 
has to worry about. Jogging is just the ritual, the thing he has to do; you screw up the ritual and 
who knows? His run always cnds at a place called thc Surf Boarder, where he strides in, glistening, 
tanned, with that Prince Valiant flyaway hairdo and, at that time of the moming, he looks pretty 
much like everybody else in there. They're surfy people, kids, mostly, and they eat breakfast fam- 
ily style at long tables: stecl-cut oatmeal with brown sugar. Not that it tastes good; in fact, it tastes 
lousy. But it's just anti-establishment enough to go down smoothly. And the nice thing about all this 
is that they greet him with a certain offhand touch of respect, they even talk to him, and they realize 
that he is somebody. Not really famous. But, well, you know . . . somebody. He's getting by. He 
136 still has all his fingers and toes, which is a wonder just for openers. (continued on page 140) 


ILLUSTRATION BY KEN GRANING 


ICKING UP STONES began almost as soon as man developed his unique 
P and utile thumb. First he threw them at small game, then he put 

them on sticks and made spears, and soon he discovered that if he 
polished them and gave them to Raquel Welch (who was always fighting 
dinosaurs in the next valley), it might induce her to share his cave on cold 


winter nights. With luck like that, it followed that he would begin to ЁО help you get properly stoned 


worship rocks, regarding them as magic amulets and talismans; by the time > 4 

Of the first Chinese and Egyptian dynasties, great treasure hous of pre. --Ә Mother lode of objets d'art 
cious and semiprecious stones were being accumulated by kings. Today, an 

exceptional rock specimen—not a true jewel but a rose-quartz crystal, утау be priced as high as $25,000, while other stones are 
so inexpensive or so easy to find that anybody can afford a few to highlight his den. Sotheby's of London and Parke-Bernet in 
New York City and Los Angeles now hold rock auctions, and prestigious stores such as Bullock's, Marshall Field, Bonwit Teller, 
Burdines, Harrods and others the world over are doing a brisk business in handsomely mounted rocks to be displayed as one 


138 would small pieces of sculpture. Like sculpture, rocks come in an almost infinite variety of colors, (concluded on page 194) 


Following the numbers: 1. A 12" x 14" specimen of angel-wing calcite formed by the 
seepage of minerolenriched waters, $300; 2. Geode lined with dazzling omethyst 
crystals, found in Brazil, $1500; 3. tran pyrite, or faol’s gold, mined on the island 
of Elba, $150; 4. Calcite-spar crystals from Mexico that are mounted сп an 1Bth 
Century French shoe rack, $55, complete; 5. Calcite crystal from Niaca, Mexico, $35, 
including stand; 6. Selenite crystal "flowers" from Texas lake beds, $55, including 
stand; 7. Two minerals, orpiment and realgar, maunted on a Lucite base, $15; B. Acid- 
etched chalcopyrite ore, $35, including stand; 9. Selenite crystals, a variety of gypsum, 
$35, including stand; 10. Extremely rare wulfenite crystals from Mexico, $250; 11. 
Geode lined with amethyst crystals, $35, including Lucite stand; 12. Quartz-crystal 
cluster from Brazil covered with rozar-thin flakes of mica, $450; 13. Exceptianally large 
quartz-crystal cluster that has adhered to a piece cf orthoclase crystal, $750; 14. Fossil oak-tree round of agate, faund in the Deschutes 
River of Oregon, is approximately 26,000,000 years ald and measures 10” in diameter, $150, including stainless-steel stand; all from 
Arthur Court Designs. 15. Background marble sculpture by California artist C. B. Johnson measures 58" x 15", from Galerie de Tours, $1500. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY FRED LYDNS 


PLAYBOY 


140 


FOR MY NEXT ACT (continued from page 136) 


None of his scars show and he still has 
this white-on-white smile that looks like 
he's had his whole head lighted from the 
inside. He's getting all the sex he can 
handle, which is considerable and would 
be more if it weren't for his schedule. 
And, for breakfast, to go with the oat- 
meal, he orders pure cream. Warmed, 
please. It’s maybe the only action that 
ever gives him away. A man can take a 
whole lot of crap going from the top to 
the bouom; a lot of civilian banalitics 
may be visited upon him; but he must 
cling to the ritual. 

This is Craig Breedlove, who is now 
coming back. He is most assuredly com- 
ing back, because someone, somewhere 
out there, is going to sponsor him and 
—sure as hell—he is going to build an- 
other god-awful monster jet car and go 
out and try to regain the world land 
speed record. Now, a certain amount of 
such romance is fine. But if Breedlove is 
ever going to do it, his car is going to 
have to be something special—little 
more than some metal bolted around a 
rocket engine, because the car that took 
his world record of 600 miles per hour 
away is the fiercest thing so far, a 58,000- 
horsepower creature so damned frightful 
that people can hardly bear to look at it. 

All this is a sport, Breedlove's game, 
but it ranks on the far fringe of the 
definition. You can't even watch it be- 
ing played: The United States Auto 
Club makes everybody stand more than 
a half mile away from the measured- 
mile course on the Utah Salt Flats and 
all one can see is a shimmering whoosh. 
Drivers sometimes die going for this 
record, but they die in a distant puff of 
fiberglass and exploding engines and a 
spectator is never sure until the ambu- 
lance comes back. Breedlove has come 
closer to the fiery burst than any driver 
in the history of the sport—pirouetting 
out of control at 500 mph—and it 
scared him witless. 

Once Breedlove started crashing at one 
end of the Bonneville Salt Flats at over 
400 mph and he continued 
on lor five agonizing miles, finally div- 
ing his 88footlong car into а lake full 
of salt water at roughly the same speed 
as a heavy plane falling out of the sky. 
Somewhere along there, with his nice 
sense of crash timing, he had the fore- 
sight to reach out and unsnap the can- 
ору to his cockpit; then, also somewhere 
along there, he swam out of the car and 
to the edge of the lake, where he lay 
down on his stomach. 

He was still witless when the crew 
came scrambling along the bank looking 
for his body; the spousors (Goodyear 
Tires) man came first, a personal friend. 
There followed one of those historic 
exchanges that take place only in this 


on and 


particular sport: "Now, for my next 
act,” Breedlove said, "I'm going to set 
myself on fire.” 

Still giddy for Ше newsreels, his eyes 
glassy, as though he were stoned; he 
laughed hysterically and, occasionally, his 
expression went blank. He repeated his 
good line for the tape recorders and cam- 
eras; there was a lot of self-conscious back- 
slapping and Breedlove's voice was an 
octave higher than usual. 

Now he wants to go back and do it all 
over again. Do it better, cleaner, if possi- 
ble, and definitely faster—because if he 
doesn’t get the record back this time, 
he’s washed up for good. Nobody would 
touch him after that; he can't stand 
another failure. Right now, however, 
someone will sponsor him, because 
Breedlove may be giddy and he may 
have that trick haircut, but he is still a 
grown-up man of enormous assurance 
and bravery. He is also one hell of a 
driver; he is to driving those big cars 
what Manolete was to working those big 
bulls, and one must remember that 
Manolete seemed a bit fey, too. 

Land speed record drivers can be any- 
thing they want to be, really: nothing 
matters but driving those big creatures 
at fantastic speeds, all stretched out, not 
being really in control of it but maybe 
being, well, lucky as hell. They are a 
small, select. union of craftsmen, always 
articulate, if not brilliant, but thoroughly 
special. Consider Art Arfons, а man of 
ham hands and soul, the driver of a home- 
made junk jet called the Green Monster. 
Arfons once shared the salt flats with 
Mario Andretti, an Indianapolis 500 
driver of far more courage than good 
sense. Andretti, who stands about as 
high as a Ford Pinto, has been in so 
many crashes that his skin looks dap 
pled. This . he was out on the flats 
to test prototype cars for Ford, part of 
the payoff chores he must do because 
they supply him with Indy engines. 

Arfons had just finished driving the 
Monster at something like 540 mph 
when Andretti arrived. Later, Arfons 
would crash in an absolute fireball of 
flying parts (and survive, though griev 
ously injured, even to the point of having 
salt pounded under his eyelids). But now. 
he pulled a companion a 

“You see that Andretti?” Arfons sai 
"He's my goddamn hero; man, I mean, 
he is a brave little mother. You see those 
little bitty cars he drives? Scary, man." 

Andretti came over. They shook hands. 
Mario told Arfons that he was his hero. 
They were assuredly not kidding each 
other. 

"Listen, Mario," Arfons said. "You 
wanna take a run in my car here? It 
isn't tough to steer or anything like 
tha 

Mario was hoisted up and he looked 


into the cockpit appraisingly. Then he 
shook his head at Arfons. 

"Man," he said, “I don't see how you 
can fit into that little old cockpit with 
the big balls it takes to drive this car.” 

Indeed. Land speed drivers are, ex- 
actly, certainly ballsy and any man has a 
right to go to hell in his own fashion. 
Breedlove is easily as brave as both Ar- 
fons and Andreui, or anybody else one 
can find in the sport. His clean, photo: 
genic, gamin, gotohell quality may be 
the edge he needs in hunting for some- 
one to buy him a new car. If Breedlove 
got the record back, he would be а dandy 
maker of public appearances, signer of 
autographs, splendid breakfast compan- 
ion. Pure, warm cream and all. 

It’s also possible that Breedlove may 
be the final distillation, the end product 
of a couple of generations of these Bon- 
neville maniacs. Consider the lae Ab 
Jenkins, who started it all. There were 
other drivers before Jenkins, but he was 
the first to bring it the real cachet of 
glamor, the first to cash іп on land speed, 
Jenkins parted his hair in the middle 
and wore a cap, a and tie while 
driving (the ends of his shirt collars al- 
ways curled up). He drove everything 
from a supercharged Auburn to his big 
Mormon Meteor. In 1940, Jenkins was 
the darling of his age at 189 mph. Then 
he quit driving and the adoring crowds 
elected him mayor of Salt Lake City, 
where he may have set another record 
as an inept administrator. And they put 
the Mormon Meteor in a big glass, prac- 
tically hermetically sealed catafalque in 
the Utah State Capitol at the head of 
State Street, where it still sits today. 

There were others: A succession of 
Bri ers kept carting the record back 
to England and then promptly killing 
themselves in some other bizarre racing 
activity, like jetpowered boats. Both 
John Cobb, who established the record 
at 394 in 1947, and Donald Campbell, 
son of earlier record holder Sir Mal- 
colm Campbell, died in water speed 
record attempts. Young Donald had 
come to the salt flats with the first full 
crew of workmen and the world's first 
permanent, portable garage 
with every tool known to man—and a 
. the Bluebird, that had cost its Brit 
ish industrial backers $6,000,000. It nev- 
er, if you'll pardon the expression, got 
off the ground, but Campbell took a few 
days off between runs, went to Las Ve- 
gas and picked out his future wife from 
a chorus line. Perhaps Cobb and Camp 
bell together and unknowing, but by the 
very force of their Bijou newsreel dash 
and unvamished glamor, created Craig 
Breedlove. 

Breedlove became, this order: a 
builder of model airplanes, а lover, a 
driver, a lover, a tinkerer, an amateur 

(continued on page 176) 


floating, 


"Fred, how could you?! This is the closet where we first met." 


12 


article By ALAN WATTS 


LTHOUGH 1 HAYE always been 

following the sun to the 

West, I have at last come to 

love the rain as well, espe- 
cially in the dry California hills, 
where the burnished grass so 
easily takes fire. Better Yet, 
though, are the spring and au- 
tumn rains of Japan. Despite the 
fascination 1 have had for the 
Far East since reading about 
Dr. Fu Manchu at the age of 11 
and Lafcadio Hearn's Cleanings 
in Buddha-Fields at the age of 
14, I didn't reach Japan until I 
was 46. From all I had heard 
about its frantic industrialization, 
I was prepared to be completely 
disillusioned. But I went, а 
have returned three times. 

One would suppose that, in 
view of my lifelong interest in 
Zen Buddhism, I would have gone 
there years before to undertake 
the monastic discipline of living 
Zen, sit at the feet of a master, 
attain enlightenment and come 
back with a certificate to prove it. 
I have nothing at all against that, 
but it isn't my way. And when at 
last 1 did get to Japan, I didn't 
rush off to a Zen school to gob- 
ble up all the wisdom I could. 1 
went to look and to listen, and to 
see things in a way that insiders 
often miss; and I found what 1 
wanted—albeit with the help of 
two Zenmasters. It was the sound 
of rain. 

Zen Buddhism fascinates West- 
erners because its way of teaching 
is quite unlike that of any other 
religion, if religion it is. It has no 
dogma, requires no particular be- 
lief and neither deals in abstrac- 
tions nor harps on morality. Then 
what, of religion or philosophy, is 
left? All and nothing, for Zen 
deals with reality—the universe — 
as it is, and not as it is thought 
about and described. The heart 
of Zen is not an idea but an 
experience, and when that expe- 
rience happens—and happens is 
just the right word—you are set 
free from ideas altogether. Cer 
tainly, you can still use them, but 
you no longer take them seriously. 

Picture yourself, then, as a 
person carnestly concerned about 
making sense of life, of a world 
involving intense pleasure and 
appalling pain, and trying to un 
derstand how and why there із 
this weird sensation called myself 
in the middle of it all. You have 
heard that there is a great master, 
а sage, who can give you the an- 


swer—not in terms of some fancy 
theory but in terms of the thing 
itself, so that you will never feel 
the same again, and that sensa- 
on called myself will have been 
turned upside down and inside 
ош. You approach the master and, 
perhaps with some difficulty, get 
an interview. You have thought 
out your questions most carefully, 
but just as you are about to open 
your mouth, he yells “Но!” at the 
top of his voice. You are non- 
plused and he asks what's puz- 
zling you. You begin, "Well, I 
came to ask” 

But he interrupts, “And I have 
answered you.” 

“But I don't H 

And again, “Но!”—һошей 
from the depths of his belly. End 
of interview. 

‘The greater part of Zen litera- 
ture consists of such tales, often 
adding, however, that the ques 
tioner was completely satisfied. He 
cannot think of any more ques- 
tions about life—other than such 
simple matters as, “What time 
does the plane leave for San Fran- 
cisco?" For this reason, intelligent 
and adventurous Westerners have, 
in considerable numbers, been 
heading for the ancient capital of 
Kyoto, which has long been the 
center for training in Zen. 

But it was not only for Zen that 
1 went immediately to Kyoto when 
I first arrived in Japan. I wanted 
to feel the everyday life of a city 
that had been soaked іп Bud- 
dhism for so many centuries—not 
analyzing it like a psychologist, 
categorizing it like am anthro- 
pologist nor studying its splendid 
monuments like an antiquarian. 
I went to gape like a yokel and 
simply absorb its atmosphere. 
1 went to the district called 
Higashi-yama, or Eastern Hills, 
where buildings on narrow, wind- 
ing streets overlook the rest of the 
city, which, unusually for Japan, 
is laid out in the flat grid pat 
tern of ап American in a 
geographical setting that slightly 
resembles Los Angeles. even 
mountains, lie to the east, north 
and west, while the south is open 
to Osaka, Kobe and the sea. As in 
Los Angeles, the best land is in 
the foothills, where spring water 
flows into garden pools through 
bamboo pipes, and though there 
are many quiet and sumptuous 
private homes, much of the area 
has been occupied by temples 
and monasteries. Originally, it be- 
longed to feudal brigands who 
were afraid of the Zen priests 


ILLUSTRATION BY КОМО HAGIO 


The 


OUN 
Of Ran 


during a pilgrimage 
in search of zen's 
true meaning, a 
few words provide a 
great revelation 


OT Ig 
М /// б; 


PLAYBOY 


because the priests weren't afraid ої 
them, so they became pious Buddhists 
and made gencrous offerings of land. 

When one goes to a city like this, it is 
all very well to make plans to see the 
famous sights, but there should be plen- 
ty of time to follow one's nose, for it is 
through aimless wandering that the best 
things are found. I stayed in the ryokan, 
or Japanese-style inn, on the hill above 
the Miyako Hotel. To the northeast the 
sweeping, gray-tiled roofs of the Nanzen- 
ji Zen temples float above dense clusters 
of pines, and to the southwest stands the 
huge temple of Chion-in, and all about 
are wayward cobbled lanes enclosed by 
roofed walls with covered gates, givi 
entrance to courtyards and gardens, and 
interspersed with small shops and restau- 
rants. It was April, and under such a 
gate I took refuge from a sudden show- 
er. The gate opened a few inches and 
out came a hand proflering an umbrella, 
and as soon as І took it, the hand was 
hdrawn and the gate closed. The 
umbrella was а kasa made of oiled pa- 
per—a wide circle spread out like a 
small roof supported on a cone of thin 
bamboo struts, almost as cozy as carrying 
your own house with you in a quiet, 
heavy rain. I returned it the next day. 

Gutters were bubbling and water was 
spilling from bronze, dragon-mouthed 
gargoyles at roof corners. Everywhere 
the soft clattering of wooden sandals 
like small benches with legs on the soles 
to keep your feet above water. Court 
yards with glistening evergreen bushes 
and floating branches of bright green 
maple. The smell of Japanese coo 
—soy sauce and hot sake—mixed wi 
damp earth and the faintest suggestion, 
pleasant in that small a dosage, of the 
benjo (toile), which, because of the 
diet, smells quite different from ours. 
Because I need a dictionary to read most 
Chinese characters, the signs on shops 
are just complex abstract designs. Going 
deeper into the city, I found the long, 
busy lane of Teramachi, or Temple Street, 
to nose about in the higgledy-piggledy of 
tiny shops that sell utensils for the tea 
ceremony, incense, ink, writing brushes, 
old Chinese books, fans, Buddhist orna. 
ments and huge mushrooms—the whole 
lane buzing and rattling with motor- 
cycles and diminutive Toyota taxis. 

With sense of time gone awry from 
travel by jet. I awake at four in the 
morning to hear what is, for me, the 
most magical single sound that man has 
made. It comes from a bronze bell some 
eight feet high and five feet in diameter, 
struck by a horizontal swinging tree 
trunk and hung close to the ground—ac 
tually more of a gong than a bell. It 
doesn't clang out through the sky like a 
church bell but booms along the ground 
with а note at once deep and sweet and 
vaguely sad, as if very, very old. It 


144 sounds once and, when the hum has 


died away, again—and several times 
more, From the direction I realize that 
this is the bell of the Nanzenji Zen 
monastery, signifying that, so long be- 
fore sunrise, some 20 young men, ski 
headed and black-robed, have begun to 
sit perfectly still in a dark, quiet hall. 
When the bell finishes, they will begin 
to imone, on a single note, the Shingyo, 
or Heart Sutra, which sums up every- 
thing that Buddhism has to say: “Shiki 
soku ze ku, ku soku ze shiki"—" What is 
form that is emptiness, what is empti- 
ness that is form?” Actually, the language 
is the Japanese way of pronouncing 
medieval Chinese, which hardly anyone 
understands, and the words are chanted 
for their sound rather th their meaning. 
We shall see why. 

With one part of my brain, 1 know 
that these are rather bored and sleepy 
young men, many of them sons of priests, 
attending the Japanese equivalent of an 
ecclesiastical boys’ boarding school or a 
Jesuit seminary. They think they ought 
to be there, but they would really rather 
be chasing girls or learning to fly planes. 
The fine aloeswood incense, the faint 
candles, the sonorous gongs and the 
pulsing chant are for them merely kurai 
—gloomy, musty, dank, decrepit and 
old. A graveyard long gone to waste, with 
an old lady muttering over a stone. 
Only Ше sternest discipline will keep 
these boys at it. For the most part, they 
are not, like Western seekers, interested 
in Buddhism, and Westerners, in thei 
turn, seldom realize that much of this 
seemingly esoteric discipline is simply 
routine drill for reluctant boys. Having 
been through that once. in school at 
Canterbury Cathedral, 1 have not been 
clined to try it again. 

But with another part of my brain, 1 
want to be in their company, silently 
and uns with no wretched nov 
master pushing me around and trying to 
teach me how to sit in meditation. For 
the antiquity and mystery of those gongs 
and the chant are not so much from a 
backward direction in time as from a 
vast depth inside the present, from a lev- 
el of my own here-and-now being as 
ancient as life itself, I wonder; What is 
this glamor of the mysterious and ven- 
erable East? Is it all a phony projection 
of my own romantic fantasies and, if so, 
why such fa s Why do Buddhist 
rituals and symbols evoke in me a sensa 
tion of the mysterious and the marvelous. 
far more enthralling than any Christian 
equivalent, more, even, than astronomical 
revelations about the scope of distant 
galaxies? There is, of course, а wiseguy 
debunkery school of cultural anthropolo- 
gists who want to insist that, seen from 
the familiar inside, all exotic culture 
forms are just humdrum old hat, as if 
Japanese and Tibetans could not Icel for 
their traditions what we feel for Shake 
speare and Beethoven. There are, indeed, 
orchestra men bored to death with the 


Ninth Symphony and school children who 

1 Hamlet а drag, so why should 1 share 

Japanese novices’ lack of enthusiast 
for Zen? 1 am sure that the paternalistic 
discipline with which it is forced down 
their throats connects it with the same 
emotions of guilt that I felt in the pre: 
ence of God the Father and Jesus Christ. 
It would follow, then, that my enchant 
ment with Zen and Buddhism is tha 
their forms are, for me, free from thi 
kind of static, and thus that through 
them ] can approach the mysteries of 
the universe without having to feel like 
a small boy being bawled out because 
it's good for him. 

Anyhow, I am not a small boy. 1 have 
five grandchildren and thus am no longer 
liable to be impressed by grandfathers 
Nevertheless, as I look back, 1 could be 
to feel that | have lived a 
sloppy, inconsiderate, wasteful, cowardly 
and undisciplined life, getting away 
with it only by having a certain charm 
and a big gift of gab. Yet what am I 
supposed to do, now. about that? A 
look at myself, at the age of 57. 
tells me that if I am that, that's what 1 
am and shall doubtless continue to be. 1 
myself and my friends and my family 
are going to have to put up with it, just 
as they put up with the rain. I could, of 
course, tell myself that in so feeling, 1 
am casting away my humanity, the only 
thing that makes me different from a 
machine, which is the effort of will ıo 
take control of myself and change. 

This might be fine if one knew pre 
cisely what would be a change for the 
better. If I would become more Christ 
like, I should remember that the Cru 
sades and the Holy Inquisition were 
conducted in his name. If I would prac- 
tice asceticism, 1 should bear in mind 
that Hitler was quite an ascetic. If I 
would cultivate bravery, I should consid- 
er that Dillinger was brave. If I would 
observe sobriety, I should recall d 
Bertrand Russell put down a fifth of 
whiskey daily. And if I would find it in 
myself to be chaste, I should meditate 
upon Sri Hari Krishna and the Gopi 
maidens, and twit myself that I once 
had the privilege of sharing a mistress 
with one of the holiest men in the land. 
The difficulty is that our waking and 
attentive consciousness scans the world 
myopically—one thing, one bit, one 
fragment after another—so that our im- 
pressions of life are strung out in a th 
scrawny thread, lining up small beads of 
information, whereas nature itself is 
a stupendously complex pattern where 
everything is happening altogether ev 
erywhere at once. What ме know of it 
is only what we can laboriously line up 
and review along the thread of this 
watchfulness. Better not to interfere with 
myself; it could set off an carthquake. 
Perhaps there is an entirely different way 

(continued on page 216) 


On 
COURSE 


it may not help bring 
home the birdies, but champion 
golfer tom shaw’s fashion 
form is obviously no handicap 


attire 


By ROBERT L.GREEN 


ABOUT TWO YEARS АСО, Ben 
Hogan was sipping a beer in 
a Houston clubhouse after 
a rare tournament арреаг- 
ance when he spotted young 
Tom Shaw in brilliant red, 
white and blue bell-bottoms. 
Hogan remarked about his 
sport's evolving mode of dress: 
“It’s preposterous.” While Ho- 
gan’s personal notion of sar- 
torial flamboyance is a white 
golf cap, most players—profes- 
sionals and weekenders alike 

ce the trend to bold golf 
fashion as great fun. Witness 
Shaw, one of 1971's top money 
winners, pictured here a 
defending champion іп thi 
year's Bing Crosby Pro-Am at 
Pebble Beach. As his colorful 
garb shows, he has the high- 
est regard for Hogan's opin- 
ion on how to hit a four iron. 


Golf clothes ore no longer 
confined to ihe links. Even plus 
fours, shown here in thei 
noturol habitat, can leod а 
double life. Along with his 
pebble-weave-knit plus fours, by 
Jaymor-Ruby, $22.50, Show 
wears o white Fortrel shirt, by 
Gant, $17, an Orlon rib-knit 
sleeveless pullover, by Robert 
Bruce, $9, cotton Argyle socks, by 
Esquire, $3, and calfskin shoes, 
by Johnston & Murphy, $52.50. 


MS 


PLAYBOY 


146 


For left: On the fairway, Shaw 
wears а zigzag-design wool pull- 
aver sweater, by Daniel Hechter, 
$26. Left: His lie and his outfit 
have changed. Shaw chips to 
the green, having added a multi- 
colored paisley-print knit shirt 
with long-pointed collar, by Foxey 
World, $16, and a coordinated 
golf cap, by Kangol for Saks, $4, 
ta the plus fours we saw on the 
opening page. Below left: With 
Pebble Beach's notorious surf at 
his back, Shaw is shown in a 
cotton knit short-sleeved pullover 
shirt, by Izod, $13.50, с poly- 
ester skinny-rib-knit sleeveless 
sweater, by Career Club, $8.50, 
geametric-patterned double-knit 
Sansabelt slacks, by Jaymar- 
Ruby, $37.50, and Medalist ane- 
piece synthetic golf shoes, by 
Johnston & Murphy, $35. 

Right: Show—with his biggest 
fan, Mrs. Shaw—leaves the lush 
tournament compound in a 
Dacron double-knit two-button 
suit with notched lapels, flap 
pockets and flored-leg trousers, 
by Clubman, $100, a cotton knit 
round-collar long-sleeved shirt, by 
Larry Kane for Raffles, $20, and 
cotton web belt with metal buckle, 
from Gatsby's, $6.50. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JOHN ZIMMERMAN 


kop бирд v до] Furavs u22q 
an тут s2424 PUP, 


7419 SVOuVA IHL 


PLAYBOY 


LOS ANGELES (conned non page 123) 


whatever was going to happen in the 
America of the Seventies was happening 
already in L.A. 1 had put 700 miles 
on the car and never left the city or its 
environs. 1 had wandered the freeways 
and the canyons and the valley, attempt- 
ing to capture the staggering size of Los 
Angeles in a single metaphor, and I had 
failed. After two weeks in a motel in West 
Hollywood, it was time to go back to 
Connecticut and the book, and yet the 
napging suspicion that my own memories 
and premonitions about L. A. might have 
sabotaged my objectivity drove me toward 
the Pacific one last time, trying for the 
mindless poise of the seismographs out at 
Caltech that were daily registering the 
aftershocks of the big earthquake of two 
months before. 

As it happened, my personal version of 
the Great American Daydream of inno- 
cent, bucolic boyhood was centered in Los 
Angeles and, over the years since I had 
been here last, a cert: kind of winter's- 
end morning had always aroused in me a 
powerful longing for California. The fugi- 
tive smells of orange grove and just-cut 
lawn would tease my nostrils, the taste of 
guava and avocado would come up into 
my mouth and I would suddenly recall 
the five-year-old boy who had once stood 
barefoot in the hot, dusty sunlight of 
Pasadena in 1931, watching the rain in- 
explicably falling just down the block, 
ncing the first amazed dis. 
of which he was not the 
absolute, dreaming center. To that boy, 
California was the voluptuous, bottom-of- 
the-well odor of an overlush patio down 
into which the sun rarely reached, and 
the hot breath of the Santa Anas strum- 
ming the afternoon nerves to an awful 
pitch. It was a milk shake too thick for a 
straw and bungalowed boulevards shim- 
mering off under skeletal phone poles all 
the way to the fabled world of Holly- 
wood. It was the hairy legs of а black- 
widow spider come upon in a kitchen 
cupboard, and butter dripping over the 
fingers out of a rolled tortilla, and all the 
first stirrings of a body newly aware of its 
hungers and its ignorance. Pasadena in 
1951 was my first more-or-less continuous 
experience of myself, and part of my 
longing to return was a longing for the 
thrilling sensuosities and terrors of that 
buried past. 

But in the decades since, another Los 
Angeles had been superimposed over this 
one: the Los Angeles of popular myth— 
a spaceage Sodom, a dream factory, a 
city that was the doom toward which 
all America was marching in lock step: 
a sprawling, smog:stifled, freeway- bisected 
urban jungle as vulgar as а Haw 
sport shirt worn outside the suit ana, 
as ecologically schizophrenic as an oil 
derrick in Eden, and about as cultured as 


150 a stripper weeping over Love Story. In 


short, a civilization of such spiritless arti- 
facts as mushroomburgers, Hula Hoops, 
the metaphysics of Charley Manson, For- 
est Lawn and Doris Day; a city that was 
haunted, for me, by the hopeless pealing 
of Marilyn Monroe's telephone the night 
she took that overdose of pills, and by 
Scott Fitzgerald's humiliated reply to 
Joseph Mankiewicz, “Oh, Joe, can't pro 
ducers ever be wrong? I'm a good writer 
—honest." For years, 1 had entertained 
the notion that Los Angeles was a glimpse 
of all our tomorrows, a drive-in Babylon 
where the end of the world would arrive 
on its ominous Harley-Davidson, accom- 
panied by the maracas of a cocktail shaker 
at poolside. Innocence and corruption, 
paradise and paradise lost, memory and 
premonition; 1 was as unprepared for 
the real Los Angeles as Voltaire was for 
judgment day. 


Now the wide, palmlined blocks of 
Beverly Hills opened out on the right 
hand side of Santa Monica Boulevard. 
Buried sprinklers played, like silvery 
maidenhair ferns, over the manicured 
lawns of palatial houses in the early 
sun. Chicano maids walked poodles as 
meticulously clipped as the tall hedges 
behind which you fancied you could hear 
the thwock-pause-thwock of. prebreakfast 
tennis games. If Buddy Ebsen and Irene 
Ryan had come rolling down these very 
streets in their outlandish Ozark truck, 1 
wouldn't have been surprised, for Los 
Angeles disappointed only those who 
had no expectations about it; and after 
half a century of movies and TV, that 
species was as nearly extinct as the 
American bald eagle. 

Expectations. Two weeks before, 1 
had assumed myself to be free of them. 
None of the shallow gauds of movieland 
for me! | would begin my search for 
the special character of L. A. where I 
had begun similar searches for other 
cities in the past, in that district—part 
market place and part tenderloin—that 
is usually designated downtown. I would 
get a room somewhere off the night's 
mart of Pershing Square. 1 would prow! 
the Pueblo de Los Angeles, where the 
city had been founded. I would take its 
pulse close to the heart. 1 would walk. 

Two days later, 1 admitted my mis- 
take. Downtown Los Angeles was as 
characterless аз downtown Gary and, 
aside from noting that three out of five 
faces that you passed along scruffy Main 
Street were nonwhite, and that Filipinos 
could be distinguished from Haw: 
by their cheekbones, and that Chinese 
waitresses іп L.A. were often fluent in 
Spanish, the only insight I derived from 
my two downtown days was the not- 
very pithy realization that Los Angeles 
was a Pacific city, more akin to Tokyo 
than to Chicago. Like central cities all 


over America, it was at once dying and 
coming to birth. Wherever people lived 
—the poor and powerless, the excluded- 
from-the-dream—it was as wretched as 
back-street Mexico City. Wherever people 
worked, it had all the many-leveled, 
dwarfing complexity of an ant city be- 
tween Windexed panes of glass. The 
veteran of ten years of tramping in New 
York, the walker of the length and 
breadth of a score of European cities, 
suspected for the first time that his usual 
modus operandi had scant meaning 
here. Los Angeles wasn't an Old World 
town centered on a river or а railhead 
or a harbor. It wasn't made up of con 
centric circles of suburb, borough and 
neighborhood, narrowing toward New 
York's Fifth Avenue, 
or San Francisco's 17 


ion Square. Eighty 
years ago, it had had barely 50,000 citi- 
zens, and now L.A. County numbered 
over 7,000,000. It hadn't simply extoli- 
ated, it had exploded, and its peculiar 
character, if there was one, had nothing 


whatever to do with such old.fa: ned 
conceits as "downtown." At that mo- 
the walker began his metamor 
into the driver. 

Сайоп Drive was coming up, and I 
was off duty at last. There was nothing 
more that had to be done except to 
rent a dinner jacket (Henry Fonda was 
opening in а play that night and 1 was 
scheduled to go to the party at the 
Hilton afterward), so why hurry to the 
beach? Los Angeles was spatial, after all, 
not temporal. I recalled the climax of 
my downtown stay: Charles Manson, ac- 
cused of complicity in the deaths of 
seven Angelenos, and Lieutenant Wil- 
liam Calley, accused of murdering at 
least 22 Asiatics, had been sentenced 
within hours of each other. І had gone 
to the Hall of Justice, where members of 
Manson's “family” had vowed to immo- 
late themselves with gasoline if he was 
convicted, and found dozens of cameras 
at the ready, but not a single fire extin- 
guisher. 1 had stayed awake all that 
same night listening to the outraged 
voices of Orange County (on a phone-in 
radio show) demanding that Calley bc 
awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, 
and I had sensed another Los Angeles out 
there—immense, contradictory, decentral- 
ized and, above all, contemporary; a city 
that seemed to epitomize those violent ex- 
tremes of mindless obedience to authority 
and senseless rebellion against it that 
Calley and Manson had revealed in the 
current American spirit. 

On whim, I turned off Santa Monica 
Boulevard onto Beverly Drive. I'd go up 
into Benedict Canyon, where Sharon 
Tate and her friends had been mur 
dered, and eventually take Mulholland 
to the ocean. Sunset Boulevard was 
broad, islanded and verdant as a park 
there in the 9000 block. A mile or so 
back, along the Strip, it would be 

(continued on page 198) 


why not spice up your drinks with roots, shoots, herbs and other garden garnishes? 


drink By EMANUEL GREENBERG 


NOW THAT SPRING HAS SPRUNG, as they 
say, and the land is greening, the imag- 
inative host will take a cue from the 
seasonal vibes and spice up his pota- 
bles with a hint of the great outdoors. 
Ies really quite simple, but it does call 
for a dash of ingenuity—a willingness 
to break the cocktail barrier and add 
an unexpected fragrance or a piquant 
new flavor to the shaker or glass. 

This is not a revolutionary concept, 
of course. Chefs are practically canon- 
ized for such creative coups as a grat- 
ing of nutmeg in the spinach or a 


THE 
GREENING 
OF THE 
COCKTAIL 
HOUR 


ILLUSTRATION BY JAMES JOSEPH 


handful of juniper in the pot roast. 
Considering this precedent, it's rather 
curious that so little has been done 
to give cocktails and other mixed drinks 
a contemporary tone. Martinis are still 
a ritual six parts gin to one part 
vermouth—or whatever one's magic 
ratio happens to be, and the parameters 
for other traditional libations are 
equally rigid. 

So now's the time to uproot some 
of those stodgy inhibitions. On the 
following page ate directions for mak- 
ing drinks with rosemary, dill and 
basil; with ripe strawberries, ginger 
root, thyme, honey and Falernum; with 


PLAYBOY 


152 


water cress and similar garden greens. 
In fact, there's really no limit to the 
number of exciting flavor accents you 
can try. Even flowers and sceds, if you're 
into that scene, will bring new zest to 
the old stand-bys. 


CRAZY MIXED-UP MARY 
14 medium cucumber 
3 thin slices swect onion 
1% ozs. vodka 
6 fresh basil leaves (optional) 
JA cup crushed ісе 
3 ozs. tomato juice, chilled 
1 tablespoon lemon juice 
Salt, pepper to taste 
Peel cucumber, cut in half lengthwise 
and remove seeds by running down cen- 
ter with tip of spoon. Chop vegetables 
and blend in blender with vodka for 30 
seconds. Add other ingredients and 
blend until fairly smooth, about 15-20 
seconds. Pour into tall chilled glass. 
GINGER BALL 
This has the zip of ginger without the 
sweetness of ginger ale. 
2 ozs. bourbon 
1 nickel-sized slice fresh ginger root 
Club soda, chilled 
Pour bourbon over ice cubes in an 
8-02. glas. Squeeze ginger root into 
glass, using a scrubbed garlic press. 
Scrape bottom of press if ginger clings. 
Stir, Add soda; stir once. 
EMERALD 
6 sprigs water cress 
2ozs. rum 
4 ozs. pineapple juice, chilled 
М cup crushed ice 
Remove heavy part of water-cress stems. 
Blend all ingredients in blender until 
smooth—about 15 seconds. Serve in 
chilled clear wineglass. 
SCOTCH ROSE 
2 sprigs rosemary 
I scant teaspoon sugar 
2 ог. Scotch whisky 
1 oz. lemon juice 
Orange and lemon for garnish 
Muddle rosemary with sugar and a 
little of the liquor, to bruise and release 
fragrance. Pour into shaker, adding re- 
maining Scotch, lemon juice and ice. 
Shake well until completely chilled. 
Strain into sour glass or large cocktail 
glass. Garnish with a half slice of orange 
and a slice of lemon. 


FRAGRANT MARTINI 

A favorite trick of bartenders is to 
add a light nip of Scotch or a few drops 
of Pernod to a martini. Here are a 
couple of other tips that can add luster 
to your reputation as a knowing mixer. 

In the fragrant martini, you want just. 
an elusive scent of garlic. 

Few grains garlic powder 

A light shake salt 

1 tablespoon dry vermouth 

214 ozs. gin 

Olive or cocktail onion 


Shake a little garlic powder (not gar- 
lic salt) onto the palm of your hand. 
Take a light pinch of this and place in 
mixing glas. Add salt and vermouth. 
Stir to mix well. Add ice and gin and 
stir until ice-cold. Strain into chilled 
cocktail glass. Drop in an olive or onion. 

ZIPPY MARTINI 

Between them, gin and vermouth are 
flavored with about 40 different “botani- 
cals.” Why not one more to give an 
accent that suits your palate? 

1 short piece dried ginger root, split 

lengthwise 

2% ozs. ріп 

М ог. dry vermouth 

Lemon twist 

Drop ginger root into mixing glass, 
add gin and stir for several minutes to 
release flavor. Add ice and vermouth. 
Stir until icy. Strain into chilled cocktail 
glass. Garnish with lemon twist. 

LOVE POTION 

% teaspoon dried dillweed 

2 ozs. vodka 

2 ог 5 shakes powdered thyme 

2 ous. clam juice, undiluted 

2 ozs. V-8 Juice 

Grind black pepper 

Wedge lemon 

Salt to taste 

Crumble dill between fingers and 
drop into small pitcher with vodka. Add 
thyme, stir. Let steep several minutes. 
Add ice, both juices and pepper. Stir 
well to chill. Squeeze lemon wedge into 
goblet with ice and drop in rind. Strain 
in vodka mixture. Add salt to taste. 

APPLE SNAP 

8 sprigs fresh peppermint or spearmint 

2 ог. applejack 

3 ozs. apple juice 

Mint for garnish 

Trim mint stems. Place in large old 
fashioned glass with about half of the 
applejack. Muddle to bruise mint. Add 
ice. Pour in remaining liquor and apple 
juice. Stir until drink is ice-cold. Re- 
move mint from glass and garnish with 
fresh mint sprig. 

BRITISH COLLINS 

Borage and burnet are herbs with a 
cucumbery scent. Borage, incidentally, is 
the traditional garnish for a Pimm's 
Cup, in Britain. 

2 о. gin 

1 oz. lemon juice 

1 teaspoon sugar 

3 sprigs borage or burnet (or a long thin 

strip cucumber rind) 

Club soda, chilled 

Shake gin, lemon juice, sugar and 
borage with cracked ice. Strain into tall 
glass, over ice cubes. Add club soda; stir 
lightly. If the herbs aren't available, 
plant a fresh strip of cucumber rind in 
the drink and swizzle. 


JAMAICA DAIQUIRI 


Falernum is a spicy West Indian syr- 
up that imparts a piquant note to 


drinks and fruit. It’s the secret of a true 
mai tai and ought to be better known. 
135 ors. Jamaica rum 
2 teaspoons Falernum. 
1 tablespoon lime juice 
Fruit garnish 
Shake briskly with ice to chill and 
blend. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. 
Garnish with berry, pineapple chunk or 
peach slice. 
ICE BREAKER 
(Serves 12) 


1 bottle vodka, ice-cold 

Black pepper, coarse grind 

Chill vodka by placing in freezer or 
dressing in ice jacket. When ice-cold, 
vodka will be syrupy and pour slowly. 
Pour 2 ounces or so into tall thin cor- 
dial glass or jigger. Grind or sprinkle 
pepper into glass, to taste. If vodka is 
cold enough, pepper flakes will float 
slowly to bottom of glass, serving as a 
kind of thermometer. 

(The ice jacket isn’t necessary, but it 
looks handsome. To make, square off 
top of half-gallon milk container. Pour 
in about 1 in. water and freeze. Center 
bottle of vodka on frozen base; add 
water to 1 in. below shoulder of bottle 
and freeze again. Dip carton in hot 
water to release ice jacket. Handle bot- 
tle with napkin or dish towel. Place on 
plate to catch any runoff.) 

MT. HYMETTUS OLD FASHIONED 

Honey retains the perfume of the 
plants the bees feed on. The diet that 
provided this honey was pungent wild 
thyme, as you will taste in this drink. 

1 teaspoon Hymettus (thyme) honey 

2 ozs. Metaxa 

1 teaspoon lemon juice 

3 or 4 dashes orange bitters 

Orange, lemon wedges 

Stir honey with half the liquor to 
blend. Add ice, lemon juice, bitters and 
remaining Metaxa. Stir well to mix and 
chill. Garnish glass with orange and lem- 
on wedges. 

SWISS BUNNY 

This beautiful drink can also be made 
with frozen berries, but skip the grena- 
dine if they're sugared. You can also use 
framboise instead of kirsch—which makes 
it a French bunny. 

1% ors. kirsch (or framboise) 

214 ors. pineapple juice 

6 ripe strawberries 

15 teaspoon grenadine 

Good squeeze lemon juice 

% cup crushed ice 

Blend all ingredients in blender 15-20 
seconds, until almost smooth. Pour un- 
strained into old fashioned glass. 

Now that the seed of a new idea 
has been planted in your mind, it's up 
to you to cultivate the crop by experi- 
menting with other garden greens, 
herbs and spices. You'll find the 
notion will grow on you. Ba 


153 


"It looks like good news." 


Concluding a new novel 


By MICHAEL CRICHTON 


SYNOPSIS: The handcuffed man under 
police guard who was admitted to Univer- 
sity Hospital in Los Angeles one day in 
March was about to undergo an experi- 
mental brain operation of a kind never 
before performed on a human being. 
Harold Benson, a brilliant computer 
expert, was suffering from psychomotor 
epilepsy as а result of brain damage. 
During recent months, his seizures had 
led him to violent assaults on an airplane 
mechanic, a topless dancer and a gas- 
station attendant, 

The doctors in the hospital's Neuro- 
psychiatric Research Unit—the NPS—had 
decided on a “stage three” operation in 
which electrodes would be implanted in 
Benson's brain. Then, when a seizure 
was about to take place, a highly minia- 
turized computer implanted elsewhere 
in his body would produce a calming 
and restraining electrical impulse. Some 
risk arose from the fact that the small 
computer was powered by plutonium— 
but that was minimized by careful shield- 
ing and a warning metal dog tag that 
Benson would wear at all times. A further 
safeguard was the fact that the large 
hospital computer would monitor the im- 
planted one. 

Dr. McPherson, chief of the NPS, and 
his two staf surgeons, Drs. Ellis and 
Morris, were convinced that а break- 
through in medical science was at hand. 
Dr. Janet Ross, the young psychiatrist on 
the case, was not so sure. She had dis- 
covered a psychotic trend in Benson, a 
conviction that computers were about to 
dominate the human mind, and she felt 
that the operation would only intensify it. 

On the eve of the operation, a girl- 
friend of Benson's named Angela Black 
brought him some personal effects and a 
wig to cover his bandaged head during 
convalescence. Surgery the next day 
went entirely according to plan. Later, 
when Benson was given some test stimu- 
lations, the results seemed to show that 
the computer was doing its job as pre- 
dicted. Still, Benson was to be kept 
under a heavy dosage of tranquilizers— 
and the first slipup came when that 
order was ignored. 

Dr. Ross, coming to visit him, discov- 
ered that Benson had eluded the police 


guard, put on the wig and a hospital 
orderly's uniform and escaped. The situ- 
ation immediately became more dramatic 
when the large hospital computer be- 
gan to indicate that Benson's seizures 
were becoming more [requent—and were, 
in fact, being induced by the pleasur- 
able shocks that calmed him. The com- 
puter prediction was that Benson would 
have a violent mental “tip-over” al six 
o'clock the following morning. А des- 
perate search for him began, but it had 
no success. 

Just after six А.м., the emergency hol- 
line telephone whose number was listed 
on Benson's dog tag began to ring. It 
was Captain Anders of the Los Angeles 
police. “We've got a murder here," he 
said, “and we've got some questions for 


your people.” 


VI 


THREE PATROL CARS were pulled up in 
front of the apartment building off Sun- 
set. The flashing red lights had already 
drawn a crowd, despite the early hour and 
the morning chill. Janet Ross parked her 
car down the street and walked back to 
the lobby. A young patrolman stoppedher. 

“You a tenant? 

"I'm Dr. Ros. Captain Anders called 
me." 

He nodded toward the elevator. 
“Third floor, turn left.” he said and let 
her through. The crowd watched cu- 
riously as she crossed the lobby and 
waited for the elevator. The flashing 
lights from the patrol cars bathed the 
lobby intermittently with а reddish 
glow. Then the elevator came and the 
doors closed. 

‘The interior of the elevator was 
tacky: plastic paneling made to look like 
wood. worn green carpeting stained by 
innumerable pets. She waited impatient- 
ly for it to creak up to the third floor. 
She knew what these buildings were like 
—full of hookers, full of fags, full of 
drug users and transients. You could 
rent an apartment without a long lease, 
just month to month, It was that kind 
of place. 

She stepped off at the third floor and 
walked down to another cluster of cops 
Outside an apartment. Another police- 
man blocked her way; she repeated that 
she was here to see Captain Anders and 


CONSTRUCTION BY RON BRADFORD 


THE 
TERMINAL 
MAN 


14 а psychotic murderer was loose—and hidden within his body he carried a radioactive threat to the entire city 


PLAYBOY 


he let her through with the admonition 
not to touch anything. 

It was a one-bedroom apartment that 
seemed to be furnished in pseudo-Spanish 
style. Twenty men were crowded inside, 
dusting, photographing, measuring, col- 
lecting. It was impossible to visualize how 
it had looked before the onslaught of 
police personnel. 

Anders came over to her. He was 
young, in his middle 30s, wearing a con- 
servative dark suit His hair was long 
enough to hang over the back of his 
collar and he wore horn-rimmed glasses. 
The effect was almost professorial and 
quite unexpected. It was strange how 
you built up prejudices. When he spoke, 
his voice was soft. "Dr. Ross? Captain 
Anders" He shook hands quickly and 
firmly. “Thank you for coming. The 
body is in the bedroom. The coroner's 
man is in there, too.” 

He led the way into the bedroom. 
The deceased was a girl in her 20s, 
sprawled nude across the bed. Her head 
was crushed and she had been stabbed 
repeatedly. The bed was soaked with 
blood and the room had the sickly-sweet 
odor of blood. 

The rest of the room was in disarray 
—a chair by the dressing table knocked 
over, cosmetics and lotions smeared on 
the rug, a bedside lamp broken. Six men 
were working in the room, one of them 
a doctor from the medical examiner's of- 
fice who was filling out the death report. 

“This is Dr. Ross," Anders said. “Tell 
her about it.” 

The doctor shrugged toward the body. 
"Strong blow to the left temporal re- 
gion, producing cranial depression and 
immediate unconsciousness. Her blood 
type and some of her hair are affixed to 
the lamp base.” 

Ross glanced over at the lamp, then 
back to the body. “The stab wounds?” 

“They're later, almost certainly post 
mortem, She was killed by the blow to 
the head.” 

Ross looked at the head. It was 
squashed in on one side, like a deflated 
football, distorting the features of what 
had once been a conventionally pretty 
face. 

“You'll notice," the doctor said, mov- 
ing closer to the girl, "that she's put on 
half her make-up. As we reconstruct it, 
she was sitting at the dressing table, over 
there, making up. The blow came from 
above and from the side, knocking her 
over in the chair, spilling the lotions 
and crap. Then she was lifted up"—the 
doctor raised his arms and frowned in 
mock effort, lifting an invisible body— 
“from the chair and placed on the bed.” 
"Somebody pretty strong?” 
“Oh, yes. А man, for sure.” 

"How do you know that?" 

“Pubic hair in the shower 
We've found two varieties. One matches 


drain. 


156 hers, the other is male. Male pubic hair, 


as you know, is coarser and shows cer- 
tain sex differences from female pubic 
hair under the microscope.” 

“No,” Ross said. "I didn't know thai 

“1 can give you a reference on 
you want,” the doctor said. “It's also 
dear that her killer had intercourse with 
her before the murder. We've got a 
blood type on the seminal fluid and it's 
AO. Her type is AB. The man apparent- 
ly takes a shower after intercourse, and 
then comes out and kills her" Ross 
nodded. 

“Following delivery of the blow to the 
head, she’s lifted up and placed on the 
bed. At this time, she's not bleeding 
much. No blood to speak of on the 
dressing table or rug. But now her killer 
picks up some instrument and stabs her 
in the stomach several times.” 

"You find a weapon? What do you 
think it was?" 

"It's not here, but I have a rough idea 
of it. Nothing very sharp, but something 
strong—it took a lot of force to pene- 
wate this way with a relatively blunt 
instrument. But what's really interest- 
ing," the doctor went on, "is this phe- 
nomenon here." He pointed to the girl's 
left arm, which was outstretched on the 
bed and mutilated badly by the punc 
turelike wounds. “You see, he stabbed 
her in the stomach, and then in her 
arm, moving out in a regular way, a 
succession. Now notice: When he's past 
the arm, he continues to stab. You can 
see the tears in the sheet and blanket. 
They continue out in a straight line." 
Не pointed to the tears. 

“Now,” the doctor said, "in my book, 
that’s perseveration, Automatic continua- 
tion of pointless movement. Like he was 
some kind of machine that just kept going 


if 


and рор...” 
“That's correct,” Ross said. 
"We assume,” the doctor continued, 


“that it represents some kind of trance 
state. But we don’t know if it was organic 
or functional, natural or artificially in 
duced, Since the girl let him into the 
apartment freely, this trancelike state de- 
veloped only later." 

Ross realized that ‘the coroner's man 
was showing off, and it irritated her. 
This was the wrong time to be playing 
Sherlock Holmes. 

Anders handed her the metal dog tag. 
“We were proceeding routinely with the 
investigation,” he said, “when we found 
this.” 

Ross turned the plaque over in her 
hand. 


1 HAVE AN IMPLANTED ATOMIC 
MAKER. DIRECT PHYSICAL INJURY OR 
FIRE MAY RUPTURE THE CAPSULE AND 
RELEASE TOXIC MATERIALS. IN THE 
EVENT OF INJURY OR DEATH CALL NPS, 
(218) 483-1483. 


PACE- 


“That was when we called you,” An- 
ders said. He watched her carefully. 


“We've leveled with you," he s 
it’s your tum.” 

“His name is Harry Benson,” she said. 
"He's thirty-four and he has psychomo- 
tor epilepsy.” 

“What's psychomotor epilepsy?” An- 
ders asked. 

At that moment, a plainclothesman 
came in from the living room. “We got 
а trace on the prints," he said. “They're 
listed in the Defense data banks, of all 
places. This guy had classified clearance 
for some computer work from 1968 to the 
present." Anders was making notes. 

“And the girl?” Ross asked. “What do 
you have on her?” 

“Name's Doris Blankfurt, stage name 
Angela Black—she's a dancer. Twenty- 
six years okl, has lived here six weeks," 
Anders said. “But now, Dr. Ross, I'm 
going to need some information from 
you about Benson. Description of him, 
pictures, if you have them" 

"Т сап get all thar,” Ross said. Нег 
earlier impulse to protect Benson from 
the police had vanished at the sight of the 
girl's caved-in head. “I's seven-thirty 
now. Before I go back to the hospital, I'm 
Boing to stop at home to clean up and 
change. We can talk either at my place 
or at the hospital.” 

“Your place,” said Anders, “in about 
twenty minutes. What's the address?” 


vu 


The shower felt good, the hot water 
stinging needles against her bare skin. 
Janet Ross relaxed and breathed the 
steam and closed her eyes. She had al- 
ways liked showers, even though she 
knew it was the masculine pattern. Men 
took showers, women took baths. An- 
other psychiatrist had mentioned that 
once. She thought it was bullshit. Pat- 
terns were made to be broken. She was 
an individual 

She turned off the shower and climbed 
out, pulling a towel around her. She 
wiped the steam off the bathroom mir- 
ror and stared at her reflection. “You 
look like hell,” she said and nodded. 
Her reflection nodded back. "The shower 
had washed away her eye make-up, the 
only make-up she wore. Her eyes seemed 
small now and weak with fatigue. 

What day was it, anyway? It took her 
a moment to remember that it was 
"Thursday. She hadn't slept for at least 
24 hour and she was having all the 
sleepless symptoms she'd had as an in 
tern. A dull ache in her body. A kind of 
slow confusion of the mind. It was a 
terrible way to feel. 

The mirror had steamed over again. 
She opened the bathroom door to let 
cool air in. She had started to apply 
fresh eye make-up when she heard the 
doorbell. That would be Anders. 51 ad 
left the front door unlocked. “It's 
open,” she shouted, and then returned 
to the makeup. She did one сус, then 

(continued on page 170) 


Monday's Child 


25 Fair of Face 


photographer J. frederick smith brings lovely new life to an old mother goose rhyme 


Tuesday's Child Is Full of Grace 


"Wednesday's Child Js Full of Woe 


Thursday's Child Has Far to Go 


Friday's Child Js Loving and Giving 


Saturday's Child Has to Work for Дв Living 


But a Child That's Born on the Sabbath Day 
Js Fair and Wise and Good and Gay 


tional anthem." 


“But, first, our nati 


164 


i, 1450 Ribald Clas: 


from the Facetiae, by Poggio Braccioli 


19 


FRANCESCO DEORTANO, а Neapolitan knight who was quick and clever in 
specch, evident in his talent for diplomacy, and regarded with royal favor, 
ended up being appointed governor of Perugia. His failings were some- 
what less known, but King Ladislas was aware of them and took them lightly. 
Francesco, though good at heart, tended to be hasty, eless and absent-minded 
in matters of economy. One of the knight's extravagances was an elaborate suit 
of ceremonial armor. Money slid through his fingers like w 
time he was forced to borrow various sums, including a considerable one from 
the Genoese merchant Giovanni Pica, who was persuaded to advance the money 
on the strength of Di Ortano's office and expectations. 

Now. a few months before his departure for Perugia, Francesco had married 
of the most entrancing young women in Naples. But, because of the 
sc involved, he postponed moving Madonna Lucia and his household to 
the northern city. After he had gone and the lonely weeks began to stretch on 
with no word from her husband, she began to long and burn for hi felt 
that she had been kindled and then left to smolder. And so, at last, she wrote 
plaintive letter to Francesco, pleading with him to remain faithful to 
always and to return to her arms and bed as soon as he 
wellbred young lady could 


rm butter and in 


a lon 
her, to think of hc 
possibly could. The letter was as passionate as 
make it without actually being vulgar 

Another kind of passion filled the heart of the Genoese merchant. He was 
doing business at court and he needed every gold piece he could lay his 
hands on; thus, the unpaid debt began to gall him. He finally sat down and 
wrote His Excellency, the governor of Pe а letter that launched itself with 
fulsome greeting and compliments and then progressed to an unequivocal 
demand for the immediate payment of the money owing him. 

Francesco, it seems, received both messages on the same day and, on readin 
them, sit down at his writing desk to dash off replies. As was his pell-mell 
habit, he hardly bothered with salutations or polite, introductory how-do-you- 
dos, but plunged into the matter of his missives, wrote furiously, folded’ the 
papers, sealed the reverses and sent them barely dry to the waiting messengers. 
1 the other, 


In a few days’ time, one reply reached the merchant at court 
the lovely A Lucia at home in Naples. She opened the letter. trembli 
to sce her dear husband's: words, and read 

“It is acknowledged that I owe you certain legal obligations, but let it be 
known, bloodsucker, that I do not respond patiently to your imperious 
demands for immediate satisfaction. Such insatiable claims are enough to 
exhaust my substance and, in fact, to drain me dry. Furthermore, be advised 
that you are not the only onc who solicits my resources. Others have given to 
me in а more generous spirit and, since these kind friends do not importune 
me. I shall satisfy their needs first. Beware. I say, of threatening me. The hotter 
your demands, the cooler 1 shall be in giving you your due. . . ." 

On reading this, Madonna Lucia broke into tears of anger and frustration 

About the same time, the Genoese merchant received Francesco's other 
letter, broke the seal and read: 

“Believe me that, in all the мон, I think only of you. You walk through 
my dreams; your face is before me in all my waking hours. I live only for 
the day when I can repay you for all the anxious expectation 1 have caused 
you. It will be soon; J swear it. In my fondest imagination, I have continually 
imagined that moment when all my grievous debts to you will be wiped out. I 
pictme us alone; 1 shall fondle you in your sweetest, ripest places; 1 shall 
undress you slowly and tenderly, revealing all your beauties one by one, Then 
d take you into bed, where I promise 10 reveal 


adoni 


I shall clasp you in my arms 
"s you have never imagined. Do you know ‘the 
capture of the postern’ or ‘the Venetian ecstasy’ or the manner of love 
ing that is all the vogue in Rome? I shall teach you, then—gently, with a 
thousand. new caresses. We shall melt together in every way known to passion 
and the vibrations will penetrate to your very soul. In short, all that I owe 
you will be repaid a hundred times over, with à hundredlolid interest. . . ." 
The Genoese merchant, а fat and ugly man of middle age, could not 
s face filled with blood, grew p 


to you a variety of deli 


believe his eyes. H 


ple and scemed as if it 
would explode. He seized the letter in a rage, тап through the corridor and 
burst into the room where King Ladislas was sitting in council. 

He thrust the message in front of the astonished king. shouting, “See what this 
monster Francesco di Опапо writes to me—he has taken my thousand gold 
crowns and now he offers to repay me in buggery! Was vice ever so shameless?” 
The king squinted at the letter, then began to read it aloud, After a few 
tences, the whole council burst into wild ghter, 

“Aha,” said the king. “АП this bother is beside the point. The fact is that you 
were truly buggered on the day you lent a thousand crowns to Francesco!” 
—Retold by Robert Mahieu EB ILLUSTRATION BY BRAD HOLLAND 


se 


ina 
world they 


made 


five black south 
african poets write 
about life in the 
white-makes-right 
land of apartheid 


introduction 


All the world knows that in 
Johannesburg, blacks and 
whites live at once together 
and apart under the color bar 
of South African apartheid 
The high-rise world of shops, 
cinemas, theaters, restaurants 
and garden suburbs is white 
—except for the mines, the 
factories, the kitchens, back 
yards and streets, where the 
blacks go about working for 
whites. The vast shoe-box 
complex of workers’ houses, 
Soweto (and smaller areas 
like it), is black. Whites are 
allowed to go there only on 
guided tours offered as a 
tourist attraction. Black 
townships are neat as 
cemeteries; they smoke with 
the life of thousands of 
cooking fires. Down to earth, 
here are struggling peach 
trees, scrap leantos, rutted 
streets of beat-up vehicles, 
chickens, curs, children, 
gangsters, dark little shops 
and—always—a big white- 
owned liquor store. 

105 a black man's world 
made by white men. 

"The guided tour won't tell 
much about what it’s like to 
live defined by other men’s 
idea of what you are. Black 
writers who did this in the 
Sixties all have been gagged 
by government banning or 
exile, and а year or two ago 
there was silence. Then— 
sweet, wild, thin, raw—the 
voices began again. Who 
speaks? Who has the 
nerve for it? 

Up through the cracks in 
the laws that overlay their 
lives, black street-corner poets 
have pushed like those peach 
trees germinated from pips 
spat into the dust. The stock 
vocabulary of American 


black consciousness is not 
theirs; although they write in 
English, their mother tongues 
have not been torn out in 
the Diaspora, and although 
the dirt beneath their feet is 
proscribed for the time 
being, it is the earth where 
their lineage lies, unbroken. 


Look upon me as a 
pullet crawling 
from an eggshell 
laid by a Zulu hen 
ready to fly in spirit 
toall lands on earth 


writes Oswald Mtshali, 
working as a messenger for 
a white firm and going home 
to Soweto at night. These 
writers are a new breed, 
poets trying to assert life as 
whole men, in spite of laws 
designed to lop them down to 
white specifications. A 
hopeless attempt? A kind 

of unanswerable protest 

of survival? 

It's not fortuitous that 
they write poetry rather than 
prose. Image and metaphor 
bamboozle the certsors іп 
their pursuit of "subversive' 
statements. Yet any articulate 
black must be suspect: their 
work is pawed and pored 
over. Oswald Mtshali had 
а visit from the political 
police after a poem had 
been published in a white 
newspaper; since then, a 
collection of his poems has 
sold 10,000 copies in South 
Africa, mainly to whites, 
whose enthusiasm probably 
arises as much from radical 
chic as from love of poetry. 
Such are the paradoxes of 
Mtshali's life. He is a neat, 
friendly man with well- 
polished shoes and the 
bold-planed mahogany face 
and almost girlishly beautiful 
eyes common to Zulus; his 
vision of the many hungers 
of his people sometimes takes 
on hunger's hallucinatory 


horror, as when it combines 
with the metaphor of blacks’ 
castration by deprivation: 


Му father is not there. 
He had left me, a child, 
with his penis to eat for 
a boerewors [sausage] 
and his testicles to slice 
as onion and tomato 
to gravy my dry and stale 
mieliepap [porridge] 


The Babi Yar of the 
township Yevtushenkos is 
Sharpeville, where 67 Afri- 
cans were shot during the 
anti-pass demonstrations of 
the carly Sixties. But the pass, 
a document of identity that 
restricts his movement and 
Ircedom to sell his labor, is 
still a burning resentment in 
every black man’s pocket. 
Writers Sydney Sepamla and 
Stanley Motjuwadi carry 
theirs, just like any laborer or 
beggar. Sepamla is personnel 
officer for black workers 
in a factory and writes plays 
without ever having seen 
the inside of a real theater; 
the theaters of Johannesburg 
are for whites only. 
Motjuwadi, at 41, is veritably 
the only survivor in 
Johannesburg of the Fifties’ 
group of ebullient young 
bloods whose forum was the 
back-yard speak-easy and 
whose credo was that they 
could change their world 
through their writings. Some 
went into exile; some died 
there; for some, the world 
ended no bigger than the 
circumference of the bottom 
of a final boule, Motjuwadi 
is still a journalist on onc of 
the black-oriented but 
white-owned magazines and 
papers where once they all 
worked together. He has 
come through, a quiet 
triumph, with a thick scar 
across one eyebrow and 
a gentle, small-hoursof- 
the-morning face. 


Young Mongane Wally 
Scrote, after sclling insurance 
and digging white men's 
gardens, went to the 
neighboring country of 
Swaziland for peace to write. 
When he came home to 
South Africa, his poems and 
typewriter were taken from 
him and later he himself was 
detained by the police. After 
eight months. he was released 
—but the typewriter remains 
in custody. Now, he seems 
to bring with him the 
terrible silences of solitary 
confinement, as he sits 
slender, stiff and stark-cyed. 
He reads Ralph Ellison, 
Langston Hughes, James 
Baldwin, Le Roi Jones, 
Eldridge Cleaver and is 
preparing to go to the U.S. 
this year to study, Preparing 
means a patient process of 
endless applications and 
supplications for passport, 
scholarships and sponsorships 
and a heavy dependence— 
probably resented by him— 
on the cooperation of whites 
on both sides of the ocean. 
He has just married but 
knows he must leave his 
bride behind in the townships 
from whose brutalizing 
life his poems manage to 
extract either some 
familiar tenderness or the 
bitter pathos in а dead 
man's clothes. 

It is said of black women. 
in South Africa that they 
have strong graceful necks 
because they load their 
burdens on their heads: a 
conveniently romantic image 
of a mother figure expected 
то carry the weight of her 
familys world on her skull. 


28-year-old black girl—with 
a lovely, delicate-featured 
face and a solid, Maillol body 
—who, seemingly, could fit 
the role. But she bears a 
different burden, She is 


under a political ban 
following a long spell of 
detention in prison and 
acquittal in two political 
trials. She has never fitted 
dodlely into ordained roles, 
whether imposed by black 
tradition or white oppression. 
She was the first black 
woman to work on a white 
newspaper in Johannesburg. 
When she came out of prison, 


she met and married Samson 
Fadana, a black man who had 
just served eight years as a 
convicted political prisoner. 
They were together a matter 
of months before he was 
banished to a tribal area 
where she is not allowed to 
follow. She's alone in the 
townships now. Her ban 
prevents her from working as 
a journalist. You catch a 


glimpse of her, sometimes, 
about the city—a wave, an 
alert smile, no Afro 
pompadour nor hoop earrings 
necessary to assert her 
courage and identity. 

‘The way the writers of the 
following poems live is 
hardly exceptional. If they 
belong to an elite, it is the 
dead-end clite into which 
black artists and intellectuals 


are thrust by any Jim Crow 
society and the circumstances 
of their daily lives are 
exactly those of their 
humblest brothers and sisters. 
‘There is no chair of poetry 
in Soweto. The muse is in 
the beer hall, the casualty 
ward and the kwela-kwela— 
Black Maria—crammed 
with singing prisoners. 


167 


168 


"tired of hoping to 
hope—behold 
these items of our 
death-life lives..." 


an agony 
by Joyce Nomoto Sikakane 
My head is heavy, my shoulders shrug, 
because despite 
all my eyes have seen 
my head has said 
my heart has felt, 
I do not believe 
that White, Black and Yellow 
cannot talk, walk, eat, kiss and share. 


It worries me to think 
that only people of my color 
will liberate me. 


You mustn't trust a White man 

my grandfather used to tell me 

when I was a child. 

You mustn't think a White man cares 
for you 

my pcople caution mc. 

You know when a White man wants to 
know you? 

When you bring him money! 


‘The Indian? He's black as you 
but not as poor as you. 

He knows his trade—cheating you. 
He's happy to lend you money, 
just forgets to mention 

the twenty percent interest 

until you have to pay it. 


And the Colored? I ask. 

Ag! Him, they say. 

He doesn't know where he s 
but he prefers his skin whitest 

and his hair straightest 

and somehow forgets the second names 
of his black and kinky cousins. 


I know of Whites, Coloreds and Indians 
who are not like that, I say. 
But I'm told they are only a few. 


Now what about you, my fellow 
African? 

We are intimidated, they say. 

Modimo, we're very, very busy, 
they say. 

Not losing 

our passes, 

our birth certificates, 

our train tickets, 

our rent receipts, 

our urban residential permits 

(not to mention our money, our husbands 
and our lives). 


My head is heavy, my shoulders shrug, 
because despite 

all my eyes have seen 

my head has said 

my heart has felt, 

I do not believe 

that White, Black and Yellow 

cannot talk, walk, cat, kiss and share. 


pigeons at the oppenheimer park 
by Oswald Mbuyiseni Misholi 
I wonder why these pigeons in the 
Oppenheimer Park 
are never arrested and prosecuted for trespassing 
on private property and charged with 
public indecency. 


Every day I see these insolent birds perched 
on WHITES ONLY benches, defying all authority. 
Don't they know of the Separate Amenities Act? 
A white policeman in full uniform, complete 
with a holstered 38 special, passes by 

without even raising a reprimanding finger 

at offenders who are flouting the law. 

They not only sit on the hallowed benches, 

they also mess them up with birdshit. 


Oh! Holy Ideology! Look at those two at 
the crest 

of the jumping impala; they are making 
love in full 

view of madams, hobos, giggling office girls. 

What is the world coming to? 

Where's the sacred Immorality Act? Sies! 


the watchman’s blues 
by Oswald Mbuyiseni Misholi 
High up 
in the loft of a skyscraper 
above the penthouse of the potentate, 
he huddles 
in his nest by day: by night 
he is an owl that descends, 
knobkerrie in hand, 
to catch the rats that come 
to nibble the treasure-strewn street 
windows. 


Не sits near a brazier, 
his head bobbing like a fish cork 
in the serene waters of sleep. 


The jemmy boys 
have not paid him a visit, 
but if they come 

he will die in honor, 

die fighting 

like a full-blooded Zulu— 
and the baas will say: 
"Here's ten pounds. 

Jim was a good boy.” 


To rise and keep awake 

and twirl the kerry 

and shoo the wandering waif 

and chase the hobo with “Voctsck.” 


То wait for the rays of the sun 

to spear the fleeing night, 

while he pines 

for the three wives and a dozen children 
sleeping alone in the kraal 

far away in the majestic mountains 
of Mahlabathim— 

“Where I'm a man 

amongst men, 

not John or Jim 

but Makhubalo Magudulela.” 


DESIGNEO BY FRED NELSON / PHOTOGRAPHED BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


the. clothes 

by Mongane Wally Serate 
I came home in the morning, 
There on the stoop, 
The shoes I knew so well 
Dripped water like a window 

crying dew: 
The shoes rested the first time 
From when they were new, 
Now it's forever. 


I looked back. 
On the washing line hung 
A shirt, jacket and trousers 
Soaked wet with 
Wrinkled and cr 


y. 
ing reddish water, 

perhaps also salty; 
The pink shirt had a gash on the right, 
And stains that told the few who know, 
An item of our death-life lives. 


The colorless jacket still had mud, 
Dropping lazily from its body 
To join the dry earth beneath. 


The oversized black-striped trousers 

Dangled from onc hip, 

Like a man from a rope beneath. 
his head, 

Tired of hoping to hope. 


taken for a ride 
by Stonley Moljuwadi 
I get my cue 
from the glint in the cop's сус. 
I have эссп it before. 
So I have to find it. 


1 pull away from Mono 
and hug myself in desperation. 
Up, down, back, front, sides, 
like a crazed tribal dancer. 

1 had to find it. 


Without it I'm lost, with it I'm lost. 
A cipher in Albert Street. 

1 hate it. I nurse it, 

my pass, my everything. 


Up, down, back, front, sides, 
Mono's lip twitches, 

She looks at me with all the love. 
She shakes her head nervously. 
Up. front, sides, back, down, 
like a crazed tribal dancer. 
Molimo! 


"The doors of the kwela-kwela gape, 

I jabber at Mono. 

The doors swing lazy, sadi 
like Jonah's whale. 

A baton pokes into my ribs. 

1 take the free ride. 


to whom it may concern 
by Sydney Sepamla 
Bearer 
Bare of everything but particulars 
Is a Bantu 
(The language of a people in Southern Africa) 
He seeks to proceed from here to there 
Please pass him оп 
Subject to these particulars 
He lives 
Subject to the provisions 
Of the Urban Natives Act of 1925 
Amended often 
"To update it to his sophistication 
Subject to the provisions of the said Act 
He may roam freely within a prescribed area 
Free only from the anxiety of conscription 
In terms of the Abolition of Passes Act 


> 
е: 
Er — A 


س 


day amendment 

g with moon-age naming 

Bearer's designation is reference number 417181 
And he acquires a niche in the said area 

As a temporary sojourner 

То which he must betake himself 

At all times 

When his scrvices are dispensed with for the day 
As a permanent measure of law and order 
Please note 

The remains of RN 417181 

Will be laid to rest in peace 

On a plot 

Set aside for Methodist Xosas 

A measure also adopted 

At the express request of the Bantu 

In anticipation of any faction fight 

Before the Day of Judgment. 


169 


PLAYBOY 


170 


TERMINAL MAN 


paused before the second. “If vou want 
collee, just boil water in the kitchen,” 
she зай 

She did her other eye, pulled the 
towel tighter round her and leaned ош 
the hallway. "Find everything 
* she called. 

Нату Ве was s 
hallway, “Good morning. Dr. Ross" he 
мій. His voice was pleasant. "I hope I 
haven't come at an inconvenient time.” 


toward 


g in the 


son 


It was odd how frightened she felt 
He held out his hand and she shook it, 
hardly conscious of the action. She was 
preoccupied with her own fear. Why 
she afraid? She knew this man well 
had be ith him m 
never been а 
The surprise was part of it. And the 
unprofessional setting: She was acutely 
aware of the towel, her still-damp bare 
legs. "Excuse me a minute,” she said, 


she 
imes before 


to the 
bedroom 
and sat down on the bed. She 
breathing hard, as if she had run a grca 
distance. Anxiety, she thought, but the 
label didn’t really help. She remembered 
a patient who had finally shouted at her 
in frustration, "Don't tell me Im de- 
pressed. I feel terrible.” 

She went to the closet and pulled о 
a dress, hardly noticing which one it 
was. Then she went E to the bath- 


room to check her appearance. Stalling, 
she thought. This is the wrong to 
мап. She took a deep breath and went 


out to talk with him. 
He w 


Ше of th 


s st 


living room, looking uncomfortable and 
saw 


confused. She the room freshly, 
through his eyes: a modern, sterile, hos 
tile apartment, Modern furniture, black 
leather and chrome, hard lines; modern 
ings on th Is; modern, glisten- 
ing, machincl jent, 
tile em 
1 never would have thought this of 
“he said. 

not thr 
she said. 


wa 
е, ellie 
onment. 


a tol 


ened by the same 
"Do you want some 


ес 

"N ks" He wore a. jacket. and 
tie: aged from the orderly's 
uniform. But he wore the black wig over 


s and she couldn't get 
used to that. His eyes were different, too 
tired. distant, the eyes of 
the breaking point of fat 
membered how the rats h 
from excesive pleasurable 
Eventually, they lay spread- 
the floor of the cage, panting, too weak 
to crawl forward and press Ше shock 
lever one more 

“Are you alone here?" he said. 
es, Lam.” 


me. 


(continued from page 156) 


ies. They just barely showed, a 
bit of white between the botiom of his 
nd the top of his collar. 

tense.” His voice sounded 
genuinely concerned. Probably he'd just 
had a stimulation. She remembered how 
he had become sexually interested in hi 
the test stimulations, just before he 
ed, 


"No... Fm not tense.” She smiled. 
“You have а very nice smile,” he sa 
“Well.” she said, “I'm going to have 


some coffee.” She went i ic kitchen 
h a kind of relief. It was somehow 
asier to breathe in the kitchen, away 
from him, She put the Кеше on the 
burner, turned on the gas and stayed 
there a moment. She had to ger connol 
of herself. She had to get control of the 
ation. 

The odd thi 
been 
ber 


о 


g was that while she had 
shocked to see him suddenly in 
nt, she was not rea 
he had come. Psychomotor epi 
leptics were driven people who f 
their own violence. Моге than 
them attempted suicide in desperatio 
all of them felt anguish and sought the 
help of doctors. 

She went out to the living room. 
son was st 


Ben- 
rge windows, 
looking out over the city, which stretche:l 
away for miles in every direction. 
"Why did you run away, Hany? 
she spoke, she felt her strength and 
control. comin k. She could’ handle 
She'd been alone with me 
erous than he. She remem- 
« her sixmonth period at Cameron 
te Hospital, where she had worked 
h psychopaths and multiple murder- 
ing, engaging, chilling men. 


As 


“Why? Because.” He smiled and sat 
down chair. He wrigg'ed around in 


it, then stood up and sat down a 
the sofa. “AIL your furnitu 
comfortable. How сап you live in sud 
place?” He got up and walked to the 
windows, stared at the expanse of streets 
nd buildings. “They've searching for 
me out there," he said. "But they'll 
ever find me. The city is too big.” 
From the kitchen, her Кеше beg. 
whistle. She excused herself and went in 
to make collec, Нег eyes sc the 
counter, searching for something heavy. 
If she hit Benson over the head, Ellis 
would never forgive her, but 
“You have a picture on your wall.” 
Benson called. "A lot of numbers. Who 
did ıl 
“Aman named Johns.” 
“Why would a man draw numbers? 
Number 


gain on 
e ік so un 


to 


ied 


are foi whines. 


stirred the instant collec, poured 
k, went back out and sat down. 
And look at this. What is this sup- 


posed to me He tapped another 
picture with his knuckles. 

"Harry, come and sit down.” 

He stared at her for a moment, then 
went aver and sat on the couch opposite 


her. He seemed tense, but а moment 
Tuer smiled in ed way. For 
instant, ed. Another sti 


ula 
What the hell was she 
“Harry.” she si 
“1 don't know,” he said, still relaxed. 
7] left the hospital, weaving one of thos: 
white suits, I figured it all out. Angela 
picked me up. And then we went to my 
house. 1 was quite tense 
Why were you tense? 
Wall, you see, 1 know how this is all 
going to end. 
She wasn't sure what he was referring 
How is it going to end?” 


going to do? 
happened?” 


id, "w 


10. 


“And alter we left my house, we went 
to her apartment, and we had some 
drinks, and we made love, and then 1 
told her how it was g; 10 end. That 


was when she got seared. She wanted to 
call the hospital, to tell them where 1 
was. 2.” He stared off into space, 
momentarily confused. She didn't want 
to press the point. He had had a seizure 

md he would not remember killing the 
girl His amnesia would be tota 
genuine. 

Bur she wanted to keep him t 
ing. "Why did you lea 
Нату 

“It was in the 
turning to look at her 
bed and 1 suddenly 


e the hospita 


s lying 
red that ever 


body was taking сате of me, laking care, 
servicing me, like a machine, 1 was 
afraid of that all along 


In some distant, detached and a 
corner of her mind, she felt that a в 
picion was confirmed. Benson's pa 
about machines was, at bonom 
dependency, of losi 
was quite literally telling the truth when 
he said he was afraid of being taken саге 
of. And people usually hated what they 
red. But then, Benson was dependent 
on her. And how would he now reset to 
thaw 


п to get angr 
” He broke olf 
The pupils were briclly larger: 
nother stimulation. They were very 
close now. He'd tip over 


fou people 
1 smiled 


“You know somer ^ ahe 
most wonderful fecling the world," 
he said S soon as t 


sisted the impulse to look at her watch. 
What did it matter? Anders had said һе 
would be coming in 20 minutes, but 
g could delay him. And even if 
he came, she wondered if he could han- 
dle Benson. A psychomotor epileptic out 

(continued on page 241) 


attire 


By ROBERT L. GREEN 


THERE WAS A Time when the scersucker 
suit came in one pattern (striped), 
limited colors (usually faded blue and 
white) and one shape (baggy). It did 
have something going for it—cool 
comfort—and it became a virtual uni- 
form for a generation of rumpled, pipe- 
smoking, slightly frayed professorial 
types. They'd 


vu SEERSUCKER’S 
nize the seer- 
sucker suit in ВАК N TOWN 
its 1972 edi- 


Поп; the crisp that classic warm- 
feel of coton гает fabric is 
remains, but reincarnated in a 
the олсе of punchy plaid suit 
patterns is far 

broader and the cut is very contempo- 
rary. The fellow at right wears a plaid 
single-breasted seersucker suit with 
wide lapels, flap pockets, deep center 
vent and slightly flared cuffed trousers, 
by Corbin, Ltd., 5110, with a diamond- 
print Arnel triacetate knit shirt with 
long-pointed collar and two-button 
culls, by Excello, 514, a paisley-pat- 
terned striped polyester tie, by Resilio, 
$8.50, amd a pair of duck and crin 
entleather spectator shoes 
with crepe soles, by Hush Puppies, $18. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JOEL BALOWIN 


vem quem gts 


TWEEN 


ы 
| 


172 


“You're not in the 
mood—you're not in the mood. 
You're never in the mood!” 


migod! they're behaving just like humans! 


“Well, so much for the French kiss? 


“Did the "Kama Sutra’ tell you how 
to get out of this position?” 


173 


“Faster, faster!" 


“Tonight, how about me getling on top?” 


"Who says you can't 
teach an old dog new tricks?" 


"No, thanks—I don't dig the orgy scene." 


175 


PLAYBOY 


176 


FOR MY NEXT ACT (comin: 


engineer, a land speed record man, then 
а loser, а lover and а tinkerer. Anything 
else about his formative years would wast 

on time. His best year was 1963. He 
had engineered and designed the car; 
he had conned Goodyear and Shell Oi 

into sponsoring him. Then he built i 
a three-wheeled, jet-powered behemoth 
with about as much m 
Zephyr, and he called it Spirit of 
He rolled out onto the 

ats with this great sort of Marvel 
Man caravan that, if the 
so much da nvolved, 


would have 


heen corny beyond all recall. Breedlove 
wore a Captain America suit long before 
Peter Fonda ever got the idea. There he 


. in those damned tailored blue cov 
Is cinched at the neck, waist, cuffs and 
ankles, the American flag on the right 
shoulder, With the silver helmet and 
those teeth you could see from Wendov 


м 


Utah. There, too, was the Spirit—a 
thin skin wrapped 10,000-hp 
engine, a rudimentary cockpit—I1 feet 


de at the 


rear wheels. 

Breedlove drove the damn thing, suc 
cessfully, at 407, at 468, at 526 and the 
next car at 555 miles an hour, a "bitchi 
sensation,” he called й шеп, fi 
the world 1 
600.601 mph, "so damn 
ever break й 


ally 
ad speed record at 


t nobody w 
” Now Breedlove lives over 
sy because, sure as hell, 
somebody broke it А driver 
named Cary Cabelid did it in a th 
Hed the Blue Flame, а car powered by 
ied natural gas, which is not so 
bad an idea. He was sponsored by a 
wealthy combine of 50 naturalgas com- 
panies whose interest was not in Gabe- 
lich but in promoting what they figure is 
pollution-free fuel. The Blue Flame 
than Breadlove’s 5 


demon 


hercer 


it is the world’s biggest tricycle 
and ly, right now, a better car th 
the Spirit, 

Still, in those five у 
lich came along. Breedlove ran his earn- 
ss up to as higl 0,000 
lived in an overdecorated Palos Verdes 
ula home and was up to here in 


second m 
thing clse 
ives aver the garage that is, roughly, his 
last possession. The platoons of stu 
ing girls have dwindled and now he 
has а mirror installed on the ceiling of 
s bedroom, 

But since Breedlove is coming back, 
doesn't matter. The spi 
is now spread through three rooms in 
the garage below. There, scattered all 
round, is what will be assembled into a 


t of comeb: 


zd from page H0) 

diag car powered by a lunardescent 
engine. Lunar descent, for God's. sake. 
Breedlove will make a car out of it 
and head for some drag strip to turn 300 
mph in the quarter 

"M I can just get this son of a bitch 
going,” he says, “Гус got it made. Be- 
cause I've really got Dig plans after that. 
It will take $800,000 to do it right, but, 
a program. First, there will 
be the drag car down there in the ga- 
rage, and then—a bigger version Гог the 
land speed record. Bigger, I've had five 
years to think about it and now irs 
complete in my mind. 1 know every nut 

nd bolt on the car. Every panel. Every 
mile an hour.” 

Breedlove figures, correctly, “the 
of my life is in this goddamn са 
has painted some body panels red à 
white, because tre McDonald hamburger 
people considered a possible sponsors! 
Fine; just give him the money. he'll рис 
melted cheese and onions on the car. The 
тог.су. Got to have the money. 

And now, exotic working hours are 
routine, part of the ritual. When Breed- 
love built his first two cars, he worked 


every single night until exhaustion. He 
has come back to that. He will build 
the drag car alone. Its a simple 


gh plan: With the publicity from 
he plans to atwaa sponsors for 
the big earthshaker that he expects will 
go 720 mph. 

The best place to run the carthshaker, 
the cheapest place t0 get to, is that 
tabletop stretch of crystalline. known 
as the Utah Salt Flats. Bonneville is a left- 
over from prehistoric times; once it was 
the bottom of a stretched from 
mountain to mountain on cither side 
of the sprawling valley. It is definitely 
Weirdsville by the Great Salt 
led fars glistei 
sun, cracked underfoot 
міс jigsaw puzzle, um 
with mountains off in the dist 
seem to float on heat waves, Ye: 
Donner р 
the flats a 
equipn 


of baking or ch 
the 


ice that 
rs ago, the 
ross one edge of 
the summer desert lost 
at that could have saved them in 
the mountains that winter. Not far from 
where the с there are still the 
Donner wagon tracks— forcver frozen into 
the salt. 

The salt is hard, lightly granular on 
the surface and a hell of a place to drive 
a car. Ever since the Ab Jenkins days, 
people hav ing cars [ast across 
the di There is, under 

conditions, nothing tht ca 
sc а car to tip over—except a violent 
ch such as an exploding en 


s run 


perfect. 


normal 
са 


nd others were testing 
the late Steve Moloney, of the Salt Lake 
y Chamber of Commerce, would climb 


into his car, crank the whecls into а 
turn, get it rolling, then crawl into the 
back seat and sleep while it 
in a steady circle for hours. He 
lost. from time to timc. 

There is a town tucked into a ruy 
Tittle foothill notch on the edge of the 
1; Wendover, Utah, on onc side of 
town and Wendover, Nevada, on the 
other side. Two motels, a lot of 
tions, the world's biggest supply 
chicken-fried steaks, а laundromat. 
grocery store that sells Levis and rail 
striped overalls, And if the waitres 
the A-I Café won't do—and the 


S stit- 
of 


won't 


the road a attle town called 
Wells. ‘There. the driver of the world 
land speed car need not worry about a 
d nor the glare of television lights as 
he stumbles out the door: In mos N 
la cattle towns, the whorchouse is run 
In fact, that's the sheriff. 
‚ sort of 
is customer 


е there, fella? 

L As always 

Now you drive right fast to- 

morrow, ya hear? 
The land speed 


course is simple 


a five-mile build- 


p. a measured mile, 
where timing takes place and the aver- 
age speed is calculated, and ile 
section for stopping the car—wi 
А k line distinguishes the 
course from the rest of the tena 
drivers straddle the line. One 
makes a run through the m 
in each direction for an official record. 
Both runs must be made within an 
hour. "The average time of the two runs 
is calculated to determine the official 
specd. What could be simple 
When Breedlove arrived іп 1962 for 
his first attempt at Cobb's 394-mph. rec- 
ord, it was as if the gypsies had just hit 
town. There was а 40-foot tractor-trailer 
containing nothing but parts and tools. 
a three-quarter-ton pickup with the 
starter generator for the jet engine, two 
other pickups with assorted goodies, the 
huge trailer with the Spirit, two 
vans and an assortment of. private 
mobiles, And the wclLtilored Breed- 
love. Most other record 1 
been considerably less spectacular—usu 
ally а race car towed by a pickup. This 
опе had Easy Rider written all over it 
At first there was disappointment. 
The car carcened here and thi 
the flats at 
Breedlove and the crew gave up. So 
Breedlove redesigned his steering syste 
added a v l stabilizer and brougl 
the whole show back to the salt thc 
And he broke the record, 
to the United States for the 
champion 


tempts hi 


return 
first time since Indianapolis 


Seagram's VO. Я 
For people who really know how to live. 


They seem to do everything. And they do it right. Even when 
it comes to having a drink. It has to be Seagram s У.О. Very special. 
Very Canadian. Very right. Known by the company it keeps. 


Seagram's UJ Canadian 


CANADIAN WHISKY — A BLEND OF SELECTED WHISKIES. SIX 
YEARS DLD.86.8 PROOF. SEAGRAM DISTILLERS COMPANY, ILY.C. 


PLAYBOY 


178 


Ray Keech had gone 207 mph in 1928 
Breedlove went 407 and years of dreams 
а work reached fruition. It 


it never does: Next season, 

speed merchant Walt Arfons 

talked a friend, Tom Green, into get 
ting into his Wingfoot Express and 
sizzling across the salt at 418 mph 
Three da er, brother Art Arfons 


went 434 and Breedlove was the third- 
fastest m the world. Third fastest, 


So he work 
and stormed 
record. Li 

“A shiver ran through me 
into the cold predawn air. 1 had awak 
ened more scared than usual that morn- 
ing and the feeling had stayed with me. 
It was usually gone by the time 1 was 
completely awake, but this day it lin- 
gered; this feeling of fear—of something 
unexplained. 

"Most of the crew and the newsmen 
were already at the flats when 1 arrived. 


it some more 
to the salt for the 


back 
n to Breedlove tell about it: 


1 stepped 


There were the usual greeti low 
you doin “What's happening? “How 
you feel, 1 muttered something 
noncommittal and thought, "| wish to 


hell they'd. just shut up so I 
and get this thing over with." 
managed a faint smile and climbed 
imo the сат. J shivered again as 1 sat 
down. In the mornings, the scat is al- 
ways ice-cold, The cockpit was stark and 
the whole thing was а giant pain in the 
ass. But for on—I don't really 


п go out 


some re; 
know for sure—I stayed with it. Maybe 
it was because 1 honestly felt ihat this 


was going to be the best damn ride 
anybody ever had. 
“I looked at my gloved hand. It was 


steady as а rock and my knees weren't 
shaking, but the fear was there, ne 
theless. I took a deep breath and felt a 
little better. 

The first rum was good, but when the 
official showed me the timing slip and I 
saw 513.88, 1 felt nervous again. I hine 
threes. For the next 20 minutes, the rou 
tine process of getting the cir ready took 
my mind off the fear, All the newsme 
and announcers kept crowding around, 
bur I wouldn't talk to them. [d told 
them to wait until after the second run. 
I ran through the same check list and 
Hippel the same switches. It's like start- 
ing an airplane; you make doubly өше 
everything is ready, During the 
procedure, you have to regulate the fuel 
very carefully. Its а touchy si 
that сап easily be blow 


minutes for the next attempt 
t, because of all the raw fuel in 
the chambers. And il you wait too loi 
you may have blown the weather; winds 
come up quickly and they айса the way 
ar handles. So there's always pres 
sure оп you when jou start the engine. 
This cl ted some of my uncasincss, 
but not all, because the run 1 had 
lc was с very rough salt 
and I was concerned about trying to go 
500 mph again through it 

"The engine started and 1 slipped my 
breathing mask on. Everything had sud- 
denly become mechanical There was a 
valve on the mask to adjust the flow of 
air and 1 set it so a little bit of oxygen 
was blowing on my even 
breathing, It cooled 
and nose under the mask, 
refreshing feeling 


last 


“The mo 
then, 1 


"nes have been good to me, but, 
€ been very good to the movies." 


face with cold water. I felt a little sharp. 
єт. E polished my goggles on the sleeve of 
my dri nd looked at the wind- 
shield. It was clean, 

“The engine was idling and every- 
thing was set to go, so onc of the crew 
members lowered the canopy over my 
head. 1 pulled it down and jiggled it into 
place. I had sat in the car so often th 
puuing the ca like slipping 
on an old j exactly how 
much to the right or left it had to be 
ved before the pins lined up and it 


dropped into place. 1 gave the crew the 
sign and held the wheel tightly, my 
thambs poised over the two parachute 


buttons mounted on the butterfly-type 
wheel—like the gun buttons in a World 
мег plane 

I took a deep breath. and. slammed 
the throttle to the floor and the car shot 
forward. It accelerated swiftly and 1 w 
doing over 400 mph when I saw thc 
rough stuff coming. | Guefully mancu 
vered as far to the left side of the course 
as possible until 1 saw the mark 
mile three flash by. Then 1 steered 
car back to the right to avoid the next 
series of bumps. It bounced a little, but 
nothing like the day before. 

As the car approached the measured 
mile. it was really moving. The needle 
оп the airspeed indicator was nearing 
00 and the car was streaking across the 
salt like а comet—straight and casy. Then 
it happened! 

“I heard a loud snap and 
began pulling badly to the right. Franti 
cally. 1 turned the wheel to the left. The 
car came back on course. but 1 had the 
steering wheel turned completely upside 
down. 1 didn't know whether to abor 
the nim or stay with it and hope for the 
best. 1 dimly realized that 1 must have 
lost one of the suspension bolts and that 
the front wheel was beginning 10 € 
steering the car li 
was a motorcycle, and it was starti 
more. 1 could see the 
nd I didn't know what to do. bur 
moving so fast that | didit have 
time to make a real decision, anyway. I 
was committed. T hadn't even taken my 
foot off the throttle. Then 1 was in the 
measured mile. АШ 1 could do was hang 
on and sce if 1 could hack it through 
the timing lig! 

"The car was leming more and more 

and was straying off course again. T 
feared that TI would hit one of the 
timing lights and 1 had to back off the 
throule. When 1 did. the car immedi 
ately seemed to right itself: it was as if 
some torque had been released, allowi 
10 go straight again. 
“Then it hi that 1 
through the second set of lights without 
hinting anything. I smashed down again 
on the throttle and the engine 


for 


the 


the 


ber over. ] was 


measured 


could 


get 


aught 


FALL MALL | 
ШШШ 


Yes, they're longer.. 
longer than king-size М 
Yes, or all that flavor 
they sure taste mid 
Yes,longer 

yet milder 


PLAYBOY 


“You won't need your glasses, Mero, I'll show you where everything is.” 


and relit With a big burst of speed, 
the car cleared the last marker under 
full powe 
I glanced 

was pointi 
"Birching. Bur the most impo 
at that point, was getting the car shut 
down. І was praying when 1 cut the 
power and hit the fist chute button. 1 
heard. the d te charge fire the first 
chute out of its can and I felt a slight 
tug: 1 knew 1 had lost my chute. E tried 
to collect my thoughts and actually 
talked out loud to myself: ‘You're going 
too damn fast, you have to slow down. 
Another mile m went by. "Wait one 
more mile. I saw the next mile sign and 
fired the emergency chute. The gun went 
oll, the sound reverbe ng inside the 
cockpit like а cannon—and there was 
nothing, The emergency chute must 
have come out with the first onc. It, too, 
away. I punched the 

“Yo 

t going to fire 


icedle 


t my air speed. The 
{ to 550 mph 


1 thought, 


һай been ripped 
button. again 
the gun fire. idiot. It's n 
again,’ I told myself. 

I knew that if 1 stepped on the 
Drakes at that speed, they would just bum 
ош: they had been designed for stop- 
ping at speeds of 150 mph and less—at- 
ter the chutes had dragged the car down 
то that speed. I looked at the brake 
pedal and then at my air speed—the car 
was still going almost 500. I thought, 
‘Irs all you've got left, hero, and if you 
don't use the bra 


ind heard. 


kes now, there won't be 
So 1 pressed the pedal and it 
ght to the floor. І pumped it 
з and again, and 1 could hear the 
g thud of the pedal hitting the 
etal floor. I had absolutely no brakes. 1 
leaned back hard in the seat I didn't 
know what else to do. 
1 flashed past mile zero, where the 
puld normally 1 to an 
casy stop. bled 
in 
t my speed —100—and. 
ї the end of the course. Beyond 
rough salt, a row of telephone 
shallow lake and a ten-foot-high 
that had been built when a 
ditch had been dug acioss the 
south сий of the flats. Beyond the dike 
was а deep lake. 
ау Lindes 
had once said w 


ve come 
The crew and the asses 


newsmen stood by the marker, froze 
horror. I looked 
] was 
that la 


the ex-Indy dy 
m he told of his car 
spinning out at 170 mph at Monza, Ital 
"You're apt to lose your balance il 
step out at that speed. 
Andy's voice saying it as the rough salt 
loomed ahead. 
“There was пош 
The m 
would just 1 


ng else to look for 
kers were gone; 1 
уе to ride it out. Suddenly 
I seemed to have plenty of time. I 
looked at the roll bar and the welds 
1 had made in the cockpit, and 1 remem- 
bered putting all of these things in. I 
glanced down at the instrument p 


out 


and remembered drilling all the holes and. 
mounting the instruments, forming all 
the metal support structures and. bend- 
ing the windshield around. I looked а 
the padding I had put in to protect 
myself, and I knew I was trapped. I took 
a deep breath and the oxygen rushed 
to my lungs. It was almost like being 
trapped in an iron Iun 

^I looked around inside my goggles 
and saw the metal frames, «d chen. 
refocused my eyes on the blue Plexiglas 
of the windshield. Then E listened. The 
engine was shut down and I could h 
only the slamming and banging of the 
uspension as the car sped over the 
rough salt surface beneath it. I thought 
ol the many times І had sat in the car. 
and then vied to count all the race cars 
Thad sat nt, I thought of 
the bl: ats I had put in the 
1934 Ford coupe. I distinctly remember 
asking myself: "What put me in this 
damn thing? Why am I here in the first 
place?” 

“I looked out the windshield again 
and was shocked back to reality. Straight 
ahead was the row of telephone poles. I 
knew that I couldn't miss them, but I 
thought that if I could at least get the 
nose of the car between two of them, it 
might not be as bad. I steered to the 
right and the car moved over a little. 
Then I put my head down, ready for 
the impact, but there were only two 
sounds: WHACK! WHACK! The car 
ied a little, but i still moving, 
and I thought, ‘Oh, Christ, I've got an- 
other chance.” 

“Then the the shallow lake 
and the spray shot high into the 
The water was slowing the car down a 
little and it was 
I saw the dike straigl 
car hie it and shot into the air—the 
whole horizon turned sideways. 
cleared the top, the right outrigger wheel 
— just enough to give the 
tip—and the impact righted the 
It was flying like a jet fighter— 
nd straight, and quiet. There 
wasn't а sound. Man, I was fl 

"The horizon was gone every- 
thing was crazy to me. Then the nose 
started to dip and I could see the water 
under me. The car was going to land in 
the deep lake on the other side of the 
dike. АП I could think of was getting 
the canopy off. I knew I wouldn't be 
able to get it off once the car was under 
water; so T grabbed the two latches 
inside and turned. The canopy popped 
up about two inches and the wind pulled 
it out of my h 


"The са 


1м 


was 


s the car 


clipped the 
ES 


ids. 


was almost in the water, so I 
tucked. hands my shoulder 
harness to hold my stomach, because I 
knew that I was going to hit pretty 
hard. Then the car came down with a 
tremendous crash, but broke free again, 


my inside 


skipping across the water like a flat rock. 
The next time it hit, there was a big 
wall of water, only this time it was up 
over my head. "Ehe car was under water. 
I snapped open the harness and started 
to climb out. I pulled about two or 
three times but couldn't get out of the 
„апа I thought, ‘Oh, Christ, all of this 
and now I'm going to drown.’ I started 
10 panic but caught myself and said, 

ust hold on. "There's something wrong 
and you can figure it out if you just don't 
panic 

“The breathing mask, of course: its 
still connected.’ I ripped it off the hel- 
met, floated to the surface of the lake 
and swam to shore, I pulled myself to 
the bai and rolled over, looking at the 
car. There it was with just the tail 
sticking out of the brine, making weird 
sounds. The water was steaming and the 
was going PLUNK, PLOP, GUR 
GLE. I looked at my hands and fingers 
and feet. I was all in one piece and T 
just rolled over and started. laughing. 
Everwhing was funny and I couldnt 
stop." 

The period after the first record runs 
began a long stage of development for 
Breedlove. Instant. fame and wealth 
whetted his appetite for the things that 
had cluded him all his life, He tediously 
1 finc restau- 
nod wine list. 
He got his own tailor and his wardrobe 
began to expand, although conserva 
tively at first. 

Then his world collapsed. With all his 
money gone, he tuned to fartherout 
gs—the longer hair style and Mod, 
The PR types had labeled 
him “Craig Breedlove, the All-American 
Boy." Today all traces of the Jack Arm 
strong of yesteryea 

At a recent dinner party at Redondo 
Beach's posh Chant House, Breedlove 
entertained a group of friends with 
funds from a personal appe: . He 
zinged through the wine list with skill 
garnered in the fat years, then suggested 
outstanding delicacies, laboriously in- 

ucting the waiter. 

The big difference between being 
nd being dead is that when you're 
alive, you can do things,” Breedlove said 
afterward, “I know one of the things I 
can do is build a new car and get that 
record back—and put it through the 
sound barrier. Everybody has something 
he really feels. the same way Tom Jones 
can put a song together—he feels it, i 
part of him. ‘This is part of me. 
alking about it. he paces the floor in 
partment, gesturing wildly as hc 
unfolds his plans for Spirit of America, 
Sonic П. Не is clad only in a pair of 
blue jeans and the softly tanned skin on 
his fivefoot-nine frame picks up the 
glimmer of the flames leaping in the 


ca 


ned how lo order 


nt and to appreciate а 


are gone. 


live 


his 


fireplace, almost in rhythm with his |і 


PLAYBOY 


182 


frantic gestures, He turns sublime, He has 
xplained the concept of the new car. 

“When the supersonic car i» done, it's 
ing to be magnificent, such a phenom- 
al piece of machinery that when we 
roll it out of the tr: —and thi 
part E really get a kick out of—it's just 
going to blow their minds" hc says 
excitedly. "They'll just look at it and 
say. 'How'd the sons of bitches do that?" 

Then—with that knack of showman- 
ship that came with the first record—he 
plops dramatically into a chair and a 
visible change comes over him. As he 
unfurls an almost one-to-one-scale cuta- 
way drawing of the new Spirit, it becomes 
clear that the all-American tinkerer of 
yesteryear has gone NASA. 

Ashe intricate rendering. 
the strong ic sense of the man 
becomes apparent. He points to the 
smooth, flowing lines of his newest pro- 
jectile. Completely seduced by space jar- 
gon, he becomes his own mission control, 
a showbiz Werner von Braun: 


is the 


esthe 


“Notice how the fenders have а bi- 
convex. configur And here's how 
the progressive deployment of the 
system slows the car down.” Then he 
talks of negative y nent 
and digital readout and dwells on the 
ight-channel  galvanometer-type photo- 
recorder that will me 
ground loading (the telltale weight on 
the tires that tells whether or not the 
mother Spirit is getting ready to fly). 
The bottom of the car, from the 
front wheel aft, increases in ground 
clearance by an inch and one half by 
the time it reaches the end of the fuse 
lage. to compensate for boundary-layer 
bleed build-up,” he says matter-of-factly. 
And there are shock propagation de 
vices in front of cach wheel so that there 
won't be any compressibility in front of 
the tires. Without these devices it’s pos- 
sible, when you get into ibility 
vange, for the air to build up in front of 
the tires and have the car roll up on this 
air and start hydropl, It would 


“As long as I'm editor of this comic book, there'll be no 
ridiculing of ducks or mice!” 


seriously destabilize the vehicle,” he says 
in one of his gems of understatement, He 
picks up the tempo a little as he ris 


from his beanbag chair: 
The wheels have a definite stabiliz 
tion input and influence over the over 


all dynamic stability of the vehicle." He 
drops the drawing and asks, "But do 
you know what the single most impor- 
tant aspect of any design is? Well, TI 
tell you: aesthetics. To me, this is | 
mount in the design of any good ati 
or automobile. It should look be 
There is absolutely no excuse for it not 
to look good. Most of the time. when 
people design an airplane, they let one 
group do the wings and another the tà 
section and still another the fuse- 
lage, and when they put it together, the 
damm thing looks like a bunch of pieces 
that came from three different places. 
It's done all the time. But when you sec 
th plane that was designed by one 
man—like the F104 or the P51 Mustang 
it’s a zoomy-looking thing, 

"When you find a designer who is very 
artistic, you usually find an aircraft or a 
car that’s not only beautiful but also 
functions well. Th п old saying 


s 
around the hotrod circles that goes. 


"What looks good is good.' This artistic 
thing that I have won't let me do any: 
thing that doesn’t look nice: 

Te all пау sound unreal, but Breed- 
love is serious. The car will be 22 inches 
wide, 34 inches high and 44 fect long. 
Forty-four feet. It will be three-whecled, 
like the first car, and will have its own 
life-support system in а cockpit capsule 
that can be blasted right out of the car. 
It will not usc the prosaic jet fuel of tl 
other S| , because the lunardescent 
engine is fucled with unsymmetrical di. 
methylhydrozine, using nitrogen tetra 
Steering and ground 
loading will be assisted by an autopilot 
system that almost defies description 
Breedlove says it will work this way: 

As the car goes transsonic, cert 
parts will become supersonic before the 
total vehicle does. At this point, when 
the pressure distribution is shifting a 
the center of pressure is moving forward 
and creating a desi ng effect, the 
autopilot will be lly comp: 
sating on the wheel loading. The car 
will have a series of three 
torized autopilots that will vote 
computer, which, in turn, will supply 
the necessary information to the leveling 
and stabilizing system. 
nd that’s what I plan for the fu- 
ture.” Breedlove says. 

Breedlove is for sale. Не is a winnci 
for the price of a stud car. In the mor 
g, at just the right moment, in just the 
right lighting, an order of warmed cream 
will buy an audience with Mr. Comeback 
What the hell, it’s a start, tit? 


HAVE YOU BEEN LIVING 
ON BORROWED TIME? 


With a dishonest watch 
you go around begging 
people for the time. 

Trying to spot a clock. 

5 And getting dirty looks 
^| from the lady sitting next to 
you, when you were only 
trying to sce her wrist. 

But with an Accutron" 
watch you mind your own 
business. 

It doesn’t have a main- 
spring or a balance wheel 
that can make ordinary 
watches fast or slow. 


ment that's guaranteed 
honest to within a minute a 
month? 

So never again will you 
have to beg anyone for the 
time. 

Or try to spot any clocks. 

And though you may still 
get dirty looks from the 
lady sitting next to you, it 
won't be for staring at her 
wrist. 


ACCUTRON BY BULOVA 


The faithful tuning fork watch. 


Shown: Accutron "2037 Combination brushed and polished sinless жесі case, Applied silver markers. Sunray silver dil. 
Grey napped strap With silver lamé inserts. 3 sk your dealer to show you rhe many other styles from $ 
* Timekeeping will be adjusted о this tolerance, i necessary, if returned io Accutron dese from whom purchased within one year from date of purchase. 


It has a tuning fork move- 


183 


184 


JOSEPH PAPP the play’s his thing 


s Wall Street Journal reviewer Irma Heldman, 
“doesn’t exactly bore Joseph Papp, he [just] manages to оре 

ate independently of it" The New York Shakespeare Festi 
Publ er will be 19 this year, and from humble begin- 


st Side—and with a bound- 
handedly bi 


church on Manhattan's Lower Е 
less passion, producer Papp has almost 
what New York Times сүйіс Cliv 

ital theater in North America, [if not] the world. 
Papirofsky, son of a Polish-Jewish trunk maker, could do worse. 
Alter more than a decade of free Shakespeare in Central Park, 
plus the world premiere of Hair at the completely refurbished 
119-ycar-old. Astor Library (now headqu of the Festival), 
The Wars of the Roses (a dusktodawn marathon culled from 
the Bard's three-part Henry VI and Richard HI) and last De- 
cember's Public Theater Broadway opening of Two Gentle- 
men of Verona time 
to relax. "Relax?" he No way!" During this month, 
the 50-year-old impresario will stage four new productions at 
the Public Theater, partially financed by grants from the 
York State Council on the Arts and the National Endow 
for the Arts, profits from the international. stage 
Hair and а hard-fought subsidy wrung from New Yor 
Hall. It's not for nothing that Papp, married to psvel 
ıl worker Peggy Bennion, a former actress, wears 
1g CHUTZPADI AND COJONES on his custom 

. He is proud of his so much so that he'd like the 
Government to step in and help other producers spread the 
dramatic wealth around. "Today," he says, “American theater 
is more alive and more en r on вап 
ter that’s a dy a platform for 
ad an effective outlet for serious writers should have 
equal priority with, say, garbage collection." To say the least. 


Pr 


f 


ROBERT SONNEMAN /urn-on 


тик ARCHITECTURAL ekaxcirrr that form follows function 1 
been atuactively—and. successfully—applied to the ficld of 
lamp design by 20-year-old Robert Som “А lamp can be 


a work of art.” says the New York City native. and the fact 
than his designs have been displayed in museums throughout 
the country certainly proves his point. As a child, Sonneman 
demonstrated his mechanical aptitude by wiring pressure but- 
tons under the carpets in his house, enabling him to locate 
other people on a control board in his room. Alter graduation 

1966 with a bachelor of arts 
de 


from Long Island University 
degree in industrial mau: 
the George Kovacs lamp firm but left five years ago to go into 
business for himself. He now has several showrooms in the 
U.S. an La growing market abroad, all of which adds up to a 
diving multimilliondollar operation. Always experimenting, 
Sonneman travels the world with his “thinkbook,” sketching 
possibilities for new desig he continues to prove that a 
lamp can be more than a light. This premise is strikingly 
exemplified in his popular Orbiter kimp, which was nomi- 
nated for an A. I. D. International Design Award іп 196 id 
others of his design, which make use of such materials as 
chrome, marble, wood and parchment. Though his work pace 
is hectic, he does manage to take time out for flying. tennis and 
skiing with his wife and son. Sonneman's plans indude expan 
sion into other areas of design—possibly furniture or other 
home accessories—but adhering to his desire to concentrate on 
опе product at а time, he's keeping those ambitions in abcy- 
ance. For now, the field of lighting design still allows him 
plenty of room for expression. Beyond aesthetics and engineer- 
ing, Sonneman regards lump design as a psychological tool: 
"Lighting is extremely important in terms of evoking emotion 

within 


ment, he be aing for 


BONNIE KOLOC this way up 


ALL SHE МАР, back on that day іп 1968 when sl 
Chicago, was seven dollars, 
bur magnificent—voiee. Bonnie Koloc had dropped out of 
college in her native Iowa to come to the city: one Sunday after 
noon, she wandered into the Earl of Old Town Pub, where. 
after a couple of drinks, she mustered enough courage to audi 
tion as a folk singer. Within weeks she was packing them in 
nd Bonnie rapidly became something of a cult fi Chi 
cago. But the really big break has been maddeningly elusive 
There was the time she went to New York. hoping for it re- 
cording contract, and everything went wrong: Arrangers, pro. 
ducers, PR men all transmitted bad vibes. So Bonnie walked 
g for small change, passing a basket in the East 
Village. “One night I made six dollars and two pieces of hash,” 
she recalls. She retur 


ed in 


an old guitar and an untrained— 


out and 


ed to Chicigo with а deep distrust of 
Manhattan and an original song, New York City Blues. She 
writes much of her own material, mostly melincholy ballads: 
on her first LP, After All This Time (Ovation), six of the 
elections are hers. No longer а solo performer, Bomnic 
works now with a four-man band. Last year they played at 
Chic 


go's prestigious night dub Mister Kelly's, but they still 
return the Earl 
around wobbly tables, nursing. beers amd. burgers, to hear 
Bonnie in her clement. “I sort of make love to an audience,” 
she says. Onstage, she radiates an carihy warmth. You're aware 
of dark, strangely seeking eyes. fingers playing with the micro- 
phone cord, straight brown hair flying as she bows Пайка 
to the floor; but most of all, theres the voice, an iustiu- 
ment of striking range and clarity. “She could sing the multi- 
plication tables and it would sound heavenly critic 
has observed. At 28, Bonnie seems t0 be on her way—even 
tackling New York again; she's just appeared there at The 
Bitter End. For Bonnie, it might well be a sweet beginning 


"home" to where young couples huddle 


one 


185 


PLAYBOY 


186 


GREAT RACE (continued jon page 112) 


crowd? —hig business! 
There was a ragged volley of shots 
and the contestants moved off in а cloud 
of dust. Accompanying them, on foot. 
horseback, ín cars pickup trucks and 
campers, went the spectators. Over the 
next three days, this swarm of people, 
animals and vehicles receded gradually 
farther into the desert, never to be seen 
in Beaty again. Stovepipe Wells. а few 
miles distant, did a roaring trade; some- 
one said they had to send clear back to 
Beatty for a couple extra cases of beer 
But in Beatty itself, where the town's 
thin dogs slunk through the empty 
streets, there was a pregnant solitude 
nd an unusual amount of bunting flap 
ping in the silence. 
The mistake wa 
These days, the race si 
in Beatty with intermed 
ty and a route through the safely de 
ed ghost town of Rhyolite. It is reported 
that this strategy was ordained at the 
postmortem of the first race, when 
Lion wa 10 have remarked, "I 
don't Tells, but 1 


never repeated. 
ts and fin 


hes 


іе stops in Beat- 
vt 


said 


know about you 


think this thing just plumb wasn't done 
tight.” 

Other and larger communities might 
well envy the classic simplicity of thc 


Wild Вито Race, but since Beatty 
thought of ir first (or av least borrowed 
it from an event staged in Rhyolite’s 


good old days), it is unlikely that any 
selbrespecting town would dare hold 
a similar function, There is also the con 
sideration, as one veteran has observed, 
that “a litle hunk of burro racing goes 
awful long way for most folks." 

ttitude, beca 


s very little to 
its essentials and 


in point of fa 
see. Boiled down to 
stripped of the accompanying pageantry, 


the race consists of a number of men 
leading the same number of donkeys 


across 40 miles of blistering desert. 

This is done in four stages over two 
days (Ше third day is for the parade, 
crowning of the Burro Race Queen and 
presentation of prizes) and the wran- 
glers, as the contestants are colorfull 
described, do not so much lead the ani- 
push wrestle them 
along the course. The burros, which are 


mals as dı and 


4 
B : 


“Pregnant, huh? Well, that does il! You can't 


һа 


е Ше car for lwo weeks!” 


rounded up Irom w 
Valley, do not always prove ame 
this challenge and often. demonstrate 
their reluctance accordingly. During one 
couple of members of the Mus 
's Club—competent horsemen 
who patrol the course as outriders—had 


to pry loose the teeth of a burro that 
were sunk into the arm of one of the 
wranglers. 


Tt costs $150 to стег the race, which 
in most cases is provided by business 
sponsors in different parts of Nevada. 
The majority of sponsors are in conven 
tional lines of commerce, but among the 
names that appear regularly on the bur- 
ros’ saddlecloths are those of Vickie's Star 
Ranch and Ash Meadows, places that 
cater to human frailties by providing 
the services of attractive ladies who do it 
for money. 

And it is the existence of these ill- 
famed and tremendously popular. estab- 
lishments—prostitution being allowed in 
Nevada by local option—that has caused. 
the men im the basement of the Beatty 
Exchange Club to stam clearing their 
throats and mutter uneasily among 
themselves 

One of these gentlemen, whose gam- 
bler’s mustache now begins to resemble 
that of a Presbyterian. minister, address 
es himself to this delicate issue. His 
voice has а deep and courteous Western 
resonance that goes perfectly with his 
big hat 
None of these, ci 


houses are actually 
le the mits of Beary,” he 
ys. The other men nod confirmation 
not altogether happily. ‘The Presbyterian 
Lion continues: "Of course, these estab- 
lishments are not legal, they're only coi 
doned by the citizens. 

Nobody at the table seems to know— 
or is willing to admit he knows—any- 
ng about the gils and what they 
. "Doesn't the Cottontail have i 


town 


s one, who seems im- 
mediately to regret this undue exhibi 
ion of curios hear tell they've got 
jukeboxes,” says another. There is a 
silence, one of many this evening, and 
the subject is allowed to drop. 

7I was looking at your town hall,” the 
stranger says. “I's really an authentic 
Western building, with that. false fone 

nd everything. I'm glad 10 sce there are 
still some of those old places left in this 
part of the country." 

"Mighty nice of you to say so,” 
tones the chief Lion. "We're tearing it 
down. Fire hazard. Gonna put up some- 
thing really line." Another silence, inter- 
rupted by the chunk of a body hit 
the barroom floor above. 

"Our ambulance and fire service is 
ninety percent. volunteer 
one of the group. "We've got fifty stu- 
dents in high school. ninety-eight in 
grade school. Six motels, one hotel, 


nnounces 


cighty rooms in all. We had five thousand 
people for 
“Where did they 
"Outside, most of them. On the 
ground in sleeping bags. tents, campers 
АП over. Folks put up tourists in their 
yards, Tourism is real important to us. 
There is another heavy thud from the 
ceiling and the men look at one another 
questioningly. "Guess someone fell over, 
a Lion ventures. "Sounds like the band's 
started up again.” 
It is decided to bring the basement 
mecting to an end and everyone troops 
upstairs toward an ever-expanding. vol- 


ume of sound. Between the thump of 


grieved moaning of a steel 
ar. the rattle of slot machines and a 
roar of voices can he heard an occasion- 
al phrase of Okie from Muskogee. It is 
performed by a magnificently third-rate 
vocalist who fights a desperate and hope 
less battle 10 awaa the attention of the 
rowd inside the Exchange Club. 

Some of the people who can still 


ance ar ап obscure, mystical shrine, А 
few incbriated bodies have been filed 
horizontally in convenient niches be- 


tween tables and. walls. A girl has fallen 
lecp on the j the ladies room 
wl her escort, a gigantic Marlboro fig 


ach waxed mustache, 
pled derby. 
eral unsteady trips between 
the door and the sidewalk, where he has 
leit his horse in the care o ndividu- 
al in cutoffs who has the Zig Zag man's 
head tattooed or painted on his bare leg 
Thanks. pardne ys the cowboy, 
iking the reins and trying. unsucces 
fully. to get his foot in the stirrup. 
ar out.” replies the n 
tattoo, who lurches back into the bar, 
where he passes out across a table occu- 
pied by a group of wranglers whose 
faces appear to have been carved. from 
concrete. One of the men guides him 
gently to the floor and resumes drinking 
his cin of beer. 
ORTY-FOUI 


ure with ai 


screams а sport at 
the «тар table. fli the dice against 
the rubber wall at the far end. “Loser 
." comes the droning response. and 
New shooter comiug out." A burly In- 
IE an ear torn 
off in the distant. past—he is probably 
ce the other regior 
Shoshoni. are said to be деті 
loving people—throws а look of ven- 
omous disgust ar the losing shooter and 
shoulders through the crowd to the ba 
rds 
blackjack baize (two tables, beneath one 
of which lies a pair of discarded cowboy 
boots and a frogfaced, middle-aged 
man in bel-botwoms and a body shi 
pushes his wim 
Vegas dancers who sit at the other end 
ol the table chewing gum. 


s toward two Las 


The 
of mahogany wi " 
the wall behind—is barely accessible be- 
cause of the crush. А girl who drove up 
from Los Angeles alone in a Porsche is 
having a quict discussion with a local 
youth who cannot take his eyes from the 
Soft and unrestrained swelling of her 
breasts 

“1 didn't say you were a shit-kicking 
Okie motherfucker.” she informs him, “1 
said your dumb asshole friend was one.” 
The youth nods solemnly and squeezes a 
tempting nipple with two ed fin 
gers. For some reason, he has a nickel 
stuffed into each ear. 

At the opposite end of the bar, near 
the men's room with the three conira- 
ceptive machines, two  gray-haired old 
men sporting Remington. whiskers stand 
with their heads dose together, өле foot 
propped on the rail. One of them holds 
his head оп one side. popping his lower 
denture in and out of his mouth, while 
listening to his companion's explanation 
of the international monetary crisis. 

“Your dollar ain't worth a dollar. It 
worth a dollar in Kansas City and 
it ain't worth a dollar no place else. It 
ain't worth even sixty cents.” His friend 
ponders this for a moment 

“How about I give you seventy-five 
cents for yours" he cackles, and they 
both lean over the bar, wheezing mighi 
ly at a joke that is probably older than 
they 
A few feet from the stige, а trio of 


DRESSING R. 


KNOCK C 
ENTE 


hemmed 
assorted crowd of cow- 
»glers. dopers and other males 
who have homed in on the scent of 
professional game. One of the girls. 
wearing а hot-pants өшін of bright yel- 
low. with high-heeled yellow shoes and a 
yellow purse, is а red-haired Amazon 
who towers above many of the men 
Discussing the day’s activities, much to 
the interest of those within carshot, she 
has a strangely little voice for her 
ist I fall down in the boulevard. 
then 1 fucked thes: thee guys іп the 
camper. my legs stuck in the air. This 
guy won't quit, but he can't get started, 
neither. so T say, ‘C'mon, buddy, you're 
holdin up the line out there,” but he 
Keeps pumpin’ away, my back sore as 
hell. J figure E must have lost a hundred, 
waitin’ for him to finish. What the hell 
you think you а remark ad 
dressed to а small reveler who has in 
some manner contrived to sink his face 
мо her left breast while she is talking. 
The mbles something about 
looking for his dog and the big girl 
him on the head, saying that she's taki 
а break but will be ready to look after 
in another half hour if he's still 
terested. “Bring she 


against 


ze. 


ish. 


е doi 


man n 


nds," 


squeaks. 
Vhat do you think of the bi 
an along the bar asks. 

His friend shakes his head. 


"Looks 


187 


PLAYBOY 


like she got hit m the face by the 
southbound express. 

“Think so? Looks kinda cute to me. 
чи а 

Although there are two other bars in 
town, the South Seas and the Beatty 
Club, the Exchange is the main com- 
munal center during the race. This is 
where most of the crowd goes at night; 
some seldom leave, as the dub is open 
around the clock. Wholesome and in- 
expensive meals—steaks and mulligan 
stew—are served in the restaurant scc 
tion at the far end of the club's si 
room, whi ains the gambling 
layouts, bar © floor and stage. Alto- 
gether, the interior is about 100 feet in 
length and 40 feet wide. The walls are 
adobe with a plaster facade (Ше build- 
ing is one of the town's originals, dating 
from 1903) and а wooden Indian stands 
by the side door. 

Those customers who Gunnar get 


side stand on the sidewalk or sit along 
the tubularsteel hitching rail. Some 
umes a cowboy tries to take his horse 


hered 


imo the saloon and is politely 
outside. Last year, a man rode a unicycle 
up and down the bar counter, drinking 
steadily while teetering skillfully at the 
edges. Nobody knows how he accom- 
plished this remarkable feat, be 
when they lowered him to the foor, 
trick cyclist was incapable of standing on 
his own feet. 

On the dawn of the second day of 
the Exchange Club is still going 
strong, even though the night's casual 
nies have thinned the ranks. There have 
heen no fights or other ugly incidents, 
but it is said that in one of the other bars 
across the streci, а woman got into an 
ment with a man and thrashed 

Back at the Excl 
the large burglar alarm at 
belt has finally stopped ring 
every couple of minutes: and his fri 
who 
bear and wears 
моск T-shirt, has passed out 
wuck 
A solitary culture bull recites aloud 
е poem that hangs in a frame on the 
wall at the end of the restaurant 
This piece of work, attributed to one 
Doug Zanders Beattys poer laureate, 
with artwork by José Sanchez, is titled 
Mam Street, Beatty, and the first. verse 
runs thusly. 


кәсіп; 


ar 


imitati 
à DRACULA 
па pickup 


the one has been 


wounded 


Some call it lonely Boulevard 

The stars look down and weep 

The half hid behind the 
clouds 

Tired eyes won't close in sleep. 


moon's 


Twelve stanzas follow, but someone at 
the bar drowns them out by stuffing a 
fistful of quarters into the jukebox, prov- 
ing yet again that versifying and wild 


188 buro races just don't mix 


and wranglers gather at the st 
for the final race. Those wra 
have managed to wake up stan 
small, quier groups, many of them look- 
ing like they just recovered from m 
surgery. Very few appear to be actually 
prepared to drag a wild burro the re- 
maining 20 miles across the desert, even 
with the scheduled lunch stop іп Rhyo- 
lite, but that is what is expected of them, 
and that is what they have come to do. 

It st be admitted that although the 
race itself is promoted as the reason for 
Beatty nual celebration, its i 
cance seems to have been overlooked by 
some of the people from out of town 
who aren't particularly disposed to рау 
attention whatsoever to events that 
take place outside the precincts of the 
saloons. 

So they vill miss the fireworks display, 
topless whiskerino contest (bearded men 
without shirt), World Championship 
Wild Beer Drinking Conte: and the 
presentation of prizes $750, 5350 and 
the top three 


пуз 


0. respectively, to 
glers. 

There is also the parade, dancing to 
the Johnson Band and the Desert Sun 
Band. exhibitions by the Las Vegas Sky- 
divers and the Wild Burro Polo Game 
for the Nye County Championship of the 
World, which is played between two 
fied in the program as Be 
ty is. U.S. Government, The Feds 
supplied by the Indian Springs Air Force 
Base. They usually win. 


The starting gun for the final race is 
scheduled for nine, bur ihe schedule 
has by now lo any precise meaning 


They start when everyone's realy, and as 
as the last burro and wrangler have 
appeared in the direction of Daylight 
s. it's back to the bar for those who 
bothered to leave and to bed for the 
isitors who have started to go blind. 
Some people drive out to the hot 
. where they peel 
p into one of the two pools— 
male and female. husbands, wives, lov 
and lookers all mixed without regard 
to ni з proprieties. Afterward, they 
ight poke around in the bare ruins of 
Rhvolite and explore the museum in the 
Railroad Depot, where they will see the 
Iden slipper that once belonged to 
Diamond Tooth Bertie, along with a 
collection of boules. spittoons, gambling 
chips and other dusty relics of the 
Rhyolite boom. 
Sometimes, stra 
n elderly lady 
the m 


ers are accosted by 
n a shawl who strolls 


in street of Rhyolite as if 
the 


shopping, though 
ghost town's main street today con’ 
not a single bu 
appa is fon 


aed solely by the greed ol Euro- 
pean munitions makers supported by a 
covey of English bankers working in 
concert with renegade Mexicins. Other 
notable personalities in the district. such 
ау Badwater Bill, who moved 

to Goldstvike, and Seldom 
who went off to the big assay office in 
the sky several years ago, no longer 
contribute to the richness of the local 
scene; but Panamint Annie, a formida- 
ble, grandmotherly type. attends every 
associated the burro race. 
Her trombone voice is bequently heard 
above that of the т.с 

nal sporting competi- 
tions go. it is true that the World Cham- 
pionship Wild Buro Race. Beatty's 
special gift to the athletic arena. leaves 
certain things to be desired, But its most 
ardent supporters would say it is this 
lack of finese that makes the occasion 
worth while: only the most computer- 
minded would disagree. 

Tt is unquestionably an 
айай. "See 0 ig feller ove 
says one of the officials, 
bushy-haired, bearded 
all the 


south 
Seen Slim, 


ional 
there; 


1. who hails from California or 
Nevada—nobody seems to be quite sure 
—and his time is six hours, 46 minutes, 
17 seconds. Gentleman Jim Correll, who 
has entered every race and. was favorite 
for this one, came in fourth. He would 
probably have won. people say, if he 
hadn't stopped on the wail and helped 
other wrangler who was having trou 
ble with his burro. But that's how Gen- 
teman Jim got his name. It is enough 
for him to know that of the 34 starters, 
he is one of the 15 who finished the 
course. 

Beatty. with its pop 
it stood at the last census—is little more 
than a stop sign on the road hom Las 
Vegas то Reno, a green smudge of cot- 
tonwood trees and fruitless mulberries 
on the dry brown floor of the desert. 
One of the rarities of the American 
West, it is a ghost town that made a 
comeback, or at | kes the pt 
once every year around the first Monday 
in September. 

The people who go there for the race 

may not know it, but they 
in a gesture of solidarity in this effort. 
Without them, perhaps Beatty would be 
poorer. Without Beatty and the spirit of 
lunacy that inspires humble men to 
pointless, admirable ambitions. the world 
self would be bankrupt. 
“People come fiom all over" said ihe 
Lion, scratching his head in wonder. "I 
suppose it's because they can't «с noth- 
ing like this no place else " 


ion of 457—as 


ast ni 


SHOOT & SHOW... 


allowing several people to watch. Final- 
ly, many Porta-Paks can record. programs 
off the air when plugged into special 
monitor sets (in the future, almost every 
TV set will have jacks and built-in cir 
cuitry, much as stereo receivers do today, 
so videotape decks can be plugged in 
for record and. playback). 

As with photography and stereo. the 
sky's the limit for hobbyists with ample 
funds. Accessories such as special lenses, 
longife battery packs and carrying cases 
abound—and there are cditing decks, 


specialeffects generators, converters, ex 
tension. cibles, ad infinitum. In addition 
to the Porta-Paks, other halfinch but 
lessportable equipment is availabl 
playback and record decks that can re- 
cord off the air and play back either 
black and white or color via special 
monitors, color cameras (very expei 
sive) and the like. There is abo one-inch 


tape equipment (used primarily for 
closed-circuit, TV in schools) and. of 
course, professional two-inch equipment 


—but by then, you've left the hobby 
class far behind. 

In short, the videotape Porta-Pak has 
much the sime relationship to more 
claborate videotape equipment as porta- 
ble audio cassette recorders have to € 
The latter will 


pensive reel-to-reel units 


118) 
give you greater flexibility and fidelity, 
but the former are frequently more fun, 
The lun aspects, however, were not 
what first occurred to manufacturers 
(chiclly Sony) who originally started 
turning out portable haltinch video- 
tape units back йз 1968. One-inch equip- 
ment was expensive, stationary and 
usually required hours of taining for 
the operator. The result was a demand 
on the part of industry for simple, port- 
able equipment that could be taken out 
imo the plant for the making of а train- 
ag tape—one that required the expertise 
not of а cameraman but of a foreman 
who was familiar with the process being 
taped, The military was quick to pick 
up on equipment that could be used in 
the field, and police departments weren't 
lar behind. The Chicago Police Depart- 
ment uscs portable systems to record the 
scene of homicides, while in Costa Mes: 
California, the department tapes sus- 
pected drunks for later viewing when 
they're sober; after watching them, sub- 
jects usually cop a guilty plea and pay 
their fines quietly. (And who hasn't no- 
ticed the video-tape cameras focused on 
the tellers’ cages at the local bank?) 
Porta-Paks were also used to record the 
damage caused by Hurricane Camille 
ed the 


in 1060; daims adjusters view 


tapes а day later in the [ront office 
that claims could be seuled quickly 
casily. Portable units also have been used 
to (ape would-be teachers in training 
cowses as an ай in correcting their 
delivery. 

Irs this latter, selfinstructive use of 
instant replay that set tape apart from 
film and persuaded film makers—both 
the underground and home hobbyists— 
10 take a closer look at portable, doit- 
yourself video-tape recorders. Louis Jalle 
writes in Radical Software (a combina- 
Whole Earth talog and Rolling 
gazine for videotape enthusi- 
ass) "Video tape can be played back 
as soon as it is recorded and seen as part 
of the situation that produced it. It is 
this capability that gives tape a clear 
advantage over film for use in all forms of 
educational experience, from encounter 
groups to industrial training, where it is 
valuable for people to see themselves in 
action as others see them, while they still 


tion 
Stone 


remember freshly how they felt as they 
were being recorded.” 

Its one thing io sit home and see 
Arthur Ashe deliver the perfect ove 
head smash (in a prerecorded cartridg 
you can rent for viewing on the Sears 
console) and quite another to be on 
the courts and watch уошѕе blow 
onc jux 30 seconds after you did so. 
nsant replay, it’s instant 


It’s not only 


the ori, 


Now that | 

hair is longer, | 
you need | 
Wella Balsam. 


Because Wella Balsam conditions 
your hair. Keeps it looking healthy 
and great. Makes it much easier to | 

comb and manage, too. You just | 
slosh iton in the shower after 

you shampoo. Be sure you get 
Wella Balsam. Only Wella makes 
а! Balsam, апа it's 
great stuff. Wella Balsam. 


our 


ela | 


s» tant 


Ru lar conditione 


юле troubled 
meos 2 
© 1972 The Walla Cor. 


PLAYBOY 


190 


education. Paul Willey, boss of the Phoe- 
nix Tennis Center, uses video tape in 
precisely this way, to record his students 
and play back the tapes so they can spot 
their own erro! 

To improve your tennis 
golf swing through instant feedback is 
ious use of video tape. So is record- 
ys, outings and parties, where 
your videotape recorder will have an 
advantage over many cameras because the 
only sound it makes is a slight hum, 
which means it’s relatively unobtrusive 
and you Gin catch people unaware (not 
that they'll always love you for it). 

There's also this to consider: A frec- 
wheeling cameraman no longer need 
worry whether or not Kodak will decide 
he’s gone too far in filming his girlfriend 
and refuse to return his shots. And soon- 
er or later, of course, video-tape equip- 
ment will end up in the bedroom. After 
all, there’s no reason the instructional 
uses of video tape should stop at the 
tennis court or golf course. Which 
makes one ponder what the future of 
pornographic films will be, now that 
everybody can make his own. 

This brings us to the question of 
censorship. Unlike magazines from Den- 
mark, there's absolutely по visual evi- 
dence as to the tr re of a reel of 
it is, after all, nothing but a 
guration of iron filings on a plastic 
backing. Michael Shamberg. coeditor of 
Radical Software and author of Guer- 
rilla Television, is convinced it means 
the end of Governmental censorship. 
“You can't see the image on video tape. 
You can't hold it up to the light and 

ay, hey, that’s pornography. Ther 
chance of a child accidentally stumbling 


smash оғ 


n ob: 


e 


no 


onto it—you have to actively put it on 
а machine. I think in the case of tape 
or video cassettes that censors! 


Government pulling tapes out of the 
mail and playing them to see wheth 
not they're pornographic. 
Whenever Shamberg or even the es 
ablishment TV critics consider the po 
tential of video tape and the Porta-Paks 
(classed as "easy access" equipment be 
cause they're portable and almost any- 
body can operate one), the subject of 
commercial television is introduced. Dc- 
scribed years ago as a 
by then FCC chairman Newton Minow, 
it has been getting vaster and more 
wasted ever since, according to some crit 
ics. Whether this is true or the 
fact remains that by the time he leaves 
school, the average American has spent 
15.000 hours watching TV and only 
12,000 in the hallowed halls of ivy. 
Those hours of staring at the tube 
also include some 330000 commercials; 
as Peter Drucker, quoted in Expanded 
Cinema, comments wryly, "Few teachers 
spend in their entire careers as much 
time or thought in preparing their classes 

invested in the many months of 
ing, drawing, acting, filming and cd- 
3Osecond television. com- 
al.” The result has been that the 
niluence and mystique of television have 
become so ingrained over the years that, 
as Man Watts puts it, "In our society 
your existence 
rmed by seeing yourself on 


not, 


you don't really exist un 

has been confi 

television.” 
Umil the 


advent of haltinch video 
ularly the Porta-Paks, 
uch anybody could do 


“Relax, Harry. Your eyes are bigger 
than your you-know-what." 


about id But the situation has. now 
radically changed. and from the ground 
up. John LeBaron of the Media Center 
at the University of Massachusetts com- 
ments in Educational Television, “A kid 
can have a tremendous familiarity with 
prepackaged [television] programing, but 
not know how to make his own. This 
is like knowing how to read and li: 
ten, bur not how to write or speak. 
The Media Center took pains to correct 
this by turning elementary school kids 
loose with Porta-Paks to tape their own 
h adult supervision. kept to 
а nimum. The kids wrote their own 
scripts, made their own tapes. operated 
the equipment, and the finished shows 
(a simul tronaut’s voyage to the 
moon, making maple sugar, etc) were 
telecast over WHYN-TV in Springfield, 
Massachusetts, Another example: Stu 
dents at the State University of New 
York in Binghamton were given Porta 


shows, w 


Paks to document their own environ- 
ment. One of а tape ol 
two teen g up while 
pleading with the ca пап not to 


follow their example. Mod Squad would 
be hard pressed to duplicate either the 
shock or the reality 

For the videotape  underground— 
whose slogan might be “Porta-Paks to 
the people"—halLinch tape has much 
the same appeal as offset printing. The 
great white light for the first under- 
ground-newspaper publisher must have 
been when he suddenly realized that 
for approximately S200 he could tum 
out 10,000 copies of his very own news- 
paper, complete with photographs. Re- 
garding half-inch videotape equipment, 
Shamberg adds appropriately: “Don't 
forget there's more than just the under- 
ground press—there's the neighborhood 
press and the ethnic press, too. When 
it comes to video tape, what we want 
to av just one culture getting its 
hands on it.” 

Through Radical Software, $I 
is attempting to do just th 
house for information about 


amberg 
A clearing 
dorens of 


tion a 


underground. video groups (Global Vil- 


Video Theater, Rain- 
dance, the Videofreex, Ant Farm Video 
and dozens of others), the publication 
also lists hundreds of tapes available for 
exchange among groups. As far as Sham- 
beig is concerned, the more people doc 
umenting their environment. the better. 
Some of the tapes are crude and others 
selLindulgent, but they're television of. 
for and, most importantly, by the people. 
and they have distinct advantages when 
stacked up against what is ordinarily seen 
on commercial T 

Video tapes are meant to be viewed, of 
coursc, and the underground people, as 
wall as some critics, see cable television as 
the natural showcase for them. А home 
hooked up to CATV will have access to a 


lage, People’ 


vastly multiplied number of channels— 
instead of five or six, the viewer may be 
ble to get as many as 40 or more. The 
problem has been what to fill them 
with. The answer may be to reserve a 
certain percentage of the channels for 
open access on a first-come, first-served 
basis, for those who wish to show their 
tapes. Through this type of programing. 
the community may have the chance to 
become acquainted with itself, with the 
lile styles and problems of the ditl 
groups that live in 

Will it work? In New York, a ve 
of it s. Jn. Manhattan, Ope 
Cha tates publicservice pro- 
graming to 90,000 cable TV subscribers 
and has helped 
groups ranging from the Boy 
black radicals. Raindance has broadcast 
some of its tapes over CATV as well. 
(There are technical problems in broad- 
casting haltinch video tape, but they're 


range free a 


not insurmountable.) And САТУ is 
spreading; there are currently 2750 
CATY stations around. the country and 


(at this writing) 2779 applications lor 
lranchises are pending. 
On а smaller scale, there are those 


buildings completely wired for television 
in which an enterprising video 
maker need only plug into the master 
antenna. New York's Westbeth apartment 
complex, a former telephone-company 
laboratory building converted into apart 
ments for artists and completely wired 
lor ТУ, is onc example. And film maker 
shirley Clarke would like to do the 
same with New York's Chelsea Hotel, 
whose residents are also primarily in 
the arts. 

As lor the future of the underground, 
which is fast becoming an overground, 
Shamberg thinks, perhaps wistfully, of 
real guerrilla television. “Some of my 
Iriends are building shortrange wans- 
miuers. One group that lives in a valley 
is already transmitting to the other resi- 
ainst the law, but alter all, 
they're transmitting on a p 
scale. And I have another friend who 
wants to build a very powerful transmit- 
the size of a Porta-Pak so he can 
el around and broadcast" Televi- 
зоп Johnny Appleseed. 

In considering how half-inch 
lape and do-it-yourself portable units 
шау remake society, some of video сареъ 
more farout theoreticians have rather 
interesting ideas. Philip Morton, a young 
sistant professor in experimental. video 
at the School of the Art Institute of Chi- 
cago, insists that vidco tape is not prod- 
uct but process (when not recording, 
the video camera shows your image on 
the monitor scope simultancously—in 
what Morton calls "no-timc"—but from 
a completely different angle, which is 
oddly upsetting; what's happening is not 
two different actions but a single one, in 


dents. It's aj 


ter 


video 


which the image feeds back to the per- 
former and vice versa), and that instant 
feedback will subtly but inevitably alter 
the behavior, and perhaps even the 
ture, of whoever is watching. Morton 
believes that the identity arises so f: 
to today's generation may never oc- 

at all to a generation that’s used to 
aving itself fed back as information at 
very carly age, Print, he claims, condi- 
tions us so that the process of thinking 
is the same for all of us, though what we 
think about obviously differs. “I don't 
know what will happen 25 years from 
now,” he says, "when a four- or a five: 
yearold, instead of learning how to 
print ndergarten, will be dealing 
with a no-time image of himself. For the 
first time, there'll be some bastards com- 
ing up who don't think like we do—and 


s beautifully fii 
But 25 years is a long time away and 
there's (d 
with which you can correct your 
watch yourself and your 


htening." 


arvelous n 


friends make love, tape your own cin 
ma vérité opus amd record New Y 
festivities so yowll know better next 
time. You can exchange tapes with your 
friend down the street or mail them to 
correspondents around the world. Or, if 
you want to show your creations to a 
larger audience, there's the possibility of 
CATV or maybe а storefront еме 
New York's Channel Опе Theater 
tracted sold-out audi 


псеѕ to а hilar- 


ious, if shocking. videotaped show 
called Groove Tube (and its sequel, 


тоо Tube Il). featuring most of 
those things you always wanted to sec 
and hear on the tube but thought you 
never would. 

In any event, one thing is certain 
Porta-Paks bridge the gap between the 
film buff and the audio freak, which 
means that videotape recording may 
well become the most popular hobby of 


them all. 


“Nothing doing—we're switching to Omaha, I 
don't intend to get involved!” 


191 


192 


ZAP! YOU'RE А FASHION PLATE 
"This may sound like something out of Buck 
Rogers, but a division of GENESCO has come up 
with the concept of coupling an IBM 1800 
computer to а laser beam in order to produce 
scientifically accurate patterns for custom-made 
suits. The finished product not only fits better 
but also is delivered quicker, as a model now 
can be created in a few days rather than weeks. 
Laser suits are becoming available through 
some men's stores, including Macy's; wear one 
and you'll be sartorially on the beam. 


WAKE UP, J. B., IT’S TIME 
TO GO HOME 


The traditional executive relaxer, of course, is а 
lunch. But for those of you 

biggies who must keep calm in the office, the 
Fluorescent Lite Equipment Company in Dallas 
is marketing, for $5.95, a highly reflective 
concaye mirror in front of which hangs a small 


three-mari 


ball. To tum off an uptight (се 


the real ball and—whongegg!—the oni 
mirror leaps out at you. The effect is so 
hypnotically relaxing that soon you'll find your 
eyelids growing heavy, your muscles relaxing and 
the next thing you know, you'll be fast asl. .. . 


PLAYBOY POTPOURRI 


people, places, objects and events of interest or amusement 


THE BOOKINGS 
OF GENESIS 


Genesis Films, Ltd., one of 
the country's leading 
distributors of film-short 
packages, has just acquired 
the exclusive nontheatrical- 
distribution rights to 16mm 
conversions of The 
Confession, The Conformist, 
The Projectionist, Little 
Murders, Celebration at Big 
Sur and The Films by John 
Lennon and Yoko Ono, 
among others. All rent for 
$150-$250 for a one-night 
stand (rates change for 
multiplenight bookings) or, 
if you're charging admission, 
you pay either the rental 
price or 50 percent of the 
gross receipts, whichever is 
greater. What's more, 
Genesis vill even throw in 
tree newspaper-ad proofs, 

a press kit and ten posters. 


BUGGER LUGGER 
Two-wheel aficionados will welcome the introduction of Bugger, the 
world’s first high-speed lightweight bicycle trailer. With this 
handsome gadget affixed to your bike's stern, you can go camping, 
icnicking, marketing or even to the links (a quick-disconnect. 
hitch enables the Bugger to double as а chic shopping 
or golf cart). Manufactured by Cannondale Corporation, 
the trailer is available in two models: the 24/-pound BRI 
shown below, at $49.95, and a smaller Bugger, the BR2, for $39.95. 


pi 


A COOL HEAD 
The concept of carrying an umbrella to keep 
the sun off your noggin is nothing new, but the 
Uncle Sam Umbrella Shop in Manhattan has 
taken the notion one step further. It's selling, 
for $15, a brolly called the Coolbrella that comes 
with a battery-powered built-in fan that generates 
your own personal zephyr at the touch of 
a button. Uncle Sam's has covered the 
Coolbrella with red, white and blue nylon. 


FENCE ME IN 

We can see it now. The house lights dim and. 

La Crosse, Kansas’ equivalent of Bert Parks 

steps to the mike and begins to sing, “There she 

is, Miss Barbed Wi ‘The crowning of 

Miss Barbed Wire is just onc unusual twist in 

the annual Barbed Wire Swap and Sell Session 

coming up May fifth, sixth and seventh in La 
bed Wire Capital 

of the World. The meet is expected to attract 

some 5000 wire wheelers and dealers from across 

the country who come to peddle their prickly 

wares for hundreds of dollars. Don't forget 

ing your Band-Aids, guys. 


za 


WHAT HAS FOUR WHEELS AND A 
ROMANIAN ACCENT? 


Now that our Government has opened the door to reciprocal 
trade with Romania, what to the wondering eyes of American car 
buffs should appear but a four-wheel-drive vehicle called, 
romantically, the M-461 that's manufactured by the Dacia Auto 
Tractor Company of Bucharest and priced at $2995. The design of 
the engine and an insulated body, according to the brochure, 
“enable the car to cross deep fords with ease." Heads up, Henry. 


'TOP-DRAWER DESK 


"The six-foot-long desk, above, from Vecta Contract Company 
costs $5400. Since you're probably asking why, we would like 
to point out that it has a fine-grai her exterior, mirrored 
molding, three drawers devoid of visible hardware and a 
height adjuster. But would you want to put your feet on it? 


IT’S ALL OVER FOR THE HANGOVER 


From Requa Manu 
brought you Cubely 


turing Company—the firm whose founder 
arettes and the original сап opener— 
ion to 
te: Its people claim to have invented a cure for 
hangovers. All you do is take a few of their activated-charcoal 
capsules and suffer no more—they say. 


PLAYBOY 


HOT ROCKS 


(continued Jrom page 138) 
nd textures. and many of thei 
ting histories. Geodes. for in- 
е, are sometimes known as thunder 
eggs because of a widespread superstition 
that people who are bashed on the head 
by them when they fall from the sky are 
victims of divine retribution for their sins. 
In the 19th Century, many scientists r 
fused to believe that geodes really did fall 
hom the h ns. but presumably the 
people who got hit were less skeptical. 
Actually, the rocks aren't supernatural: 
‘They often are produced as minerals fill 
pockets and сап be thrown g 
tances when a volcano blows its top. 

Fossil oak-tree slabs are also note- 
worthy rocks to keep in mind if you 
go stone shopping—some are dated at 
20,000,000 ис. or older. Despite their 
visible wood grain, these are true rocks, 
evolved fiom the oak through slow min 
cral displacement. The psychedelic beau 
ty of a big rock candy mounta 
stones is a superlative conva 

Selenite crystals, another favorite, us- 
ually are found like beds where the 
forces of ure е eroded them into 
formations that resemble flowers. 

Iron pyrite may ha aspired die 


at dis: 


n of these 


“ГИ tell you one thing—il’s better than wine.” 


s is not gold 


you might. preler trippy tektites 
garded as having occult properties and 
now known 10 be truly un 
these stones, 


possibly fell to earth. from the moo 

The display of rocks is just. 
the specimens themselves, Proper 
mounting to highlight the stones is a 
must (one source of attractive stands, and 
of the rocks themselves, is San. Francisco's 
Arthur Court. Designs, 
field). Stands, 


fact, can be almost as 
the stones they hold. 
опе group of India 


believed th: 
soul would be 


otherwise the stonccutter's 
pped inside forever with- 
means of escape. Lighting is also 
nt; vitrines with glass shelve 
internal lighting make excellent. show- 
cases. Or you might try а coffec-table di» 
. Or intersperse the stones among the 
shelves. However you 


books on your de 
use them, rocks should bright 
comer and prove 


stone. soul. picnic. 


CHAIRMAN MAO, | PRESUME 


(continued from page 122) 
nounced, "Prescott, cancel the war.” 
The following morning, refreshed. by 
а good night's sleep and a breakfast ol 
Pulled Rice, the Quaker strode briskly 
into the conference hall at ten л.м. on 
day two. At precisely the same moment. 
from 
tion entered, Chou 


opposite door, the host deleg 


is retinue mov 


ing with equa Mao waddling 


the rear. 
Deplo 


g themselves in a ciıcle around 
ter, the Chinese whipped out 
wellüumbed copies of his infamous 
Little Red Book from the pockets of their 
Peter Pan-collared tunics and sat in veve 
ence awaiting his next gem. Mao belched, 
а strained look came over his face and he 
barked out something with a note of 
voyance. 


"the Quaker's imespret 
cr translated quickly, “САП day I've 
been sitting like a klutz and I have 
come up fu 
thought." 
Again the Quaker felt that surge of rap- 
ture. The thinker can't think anymore! It 
spurred him into a cheery sal 
“Well, how are you this mor Mr. 
man? How's it feel to be the Erich 
Segal of the Orient, Mr. Best Seller?” 
fish are the people; the sea is 
the fish: the guerillas ате the sea,” the 
old Buddha intoned, then began to 
chew noisily on some Гис 
The old Chi got st h on the 
brain, the Quaker thought, scanning th 
document in front of him, copies ol 
which were at each place setting on the 
geen pingpong table that all had 
greed should be the natural. config 


g'or 


nuts, 


we here,” Ki 


В: Nuclear Treaty 
Soviet Union 
Middle Bast 
Trade Cultural 
India 


"Tell you what, Mr. Chairman 
Mr. Premien,” and the Free World's 
spokesman chuckled yet noth 
Taugh-In goody he had up hi 
"what say we pick one from column А 
nd two from column B?” 

Chou, suppressing mightily ап mge 
to retch, gritted his тесіп. I knew he'd 
say it, he thought, I knew it. And I 
know what he's going to say two hours 
Пот now. 

"Peri 


lunch," Kissin 


sleeve, 


for an early 


ps we should bre 


vjected. hoping 10 
spiri 
"Yes" Chou responded, beckon 


save his boss's heavily р 


ancient waiter, but he again looked 10 
Mo for counsel. 
“The fish in the se 
people are the people 
guerrillas are the guerrillas guerrillas, 
Mao said dreamily. 
for some won-ton soup. 
President?" asked Chou, passin 
Ming-dynasty turcen to his visitor 
"Sure thing. And remember.” and the 
Quaker’s eves 1winkled, for he had pre 
pared another salvo from his Laugh-In 


are sea fish: the 
people and the 


Mr 


‘Cave 


cannon. “won ton and won ton are 

à ton 
They ше their way through scores 
courses. the Quaker liberally 


dabbing cach morsel with mayonnaise. 
During the repast, a strolling musician 
in а brocaded robe strummed strange, 
discordant’ tunes on a multistringed 
instrument. 

"Would you like to n 
requests, Mr. Preside 
in flawless English. 

"You bet." the Quaker grinned. "How's 
about a couple choruses of Kwai Me а 
River? Or H's the Wong Song and the 
Wong Lips, but It's All White with Me? 

For this 1 severed ties with Brezhnev, 
Chou ruminated glumly 

“The guerrillas people the sea: the sea 
сүа,” № 
bled, soup dripping from his chin. 

"You fellas can sure cook up a storm,” 
the Quaker said. rubbing his tum-tum 


ake any special 
the player said 


people fish for mum 


"Now. would you care for a litle after 
lunch Chinese breath purifier?” 

"A Chinese breath purifies asked. 
Chou, fearing the worst. "What might 
that be called 

Sen Sen!” the Quaker exploded, “Hot 

darn, Chou, you've got to admit that one 
was a howler.” Suddenly the impassivity 
fled Mao's face and he solemnly raised his 
hand. 
“Yes, yes. dear Chairman,” Chou said 
quickly, “you may leave the room.” He 
ded the octogenarian from the table, but 
not before Washing an embarrassed. 
glance at Nixon. 

My Lord, the Quaker boggled. The 
khan of one fourth of mankind is going 
to go toity 
What took you fellas so long?" the 
Quaker asked Chou and Mao upon their 
return, 
thousand pardons for the delay, 
Mr. President,” Chou said in apolog, 
"but wherever our beloved chairman de 
posits night soil. that place becomes a 


national shrine and we must hold cere- 
monies befitting the occasion.” 

A job well dung, Mr. Chairman!" 
the Quaker said, slapping Mao's ample 
belly. "But let's get to the reason why 
Im here. What is it we really desire in 
this world? Power we've got galore; we 
can blow up the whole shebang if we 
want to. and God knows, we don't want 
that, “cause we've all got kids. Prestige? 


Gosh, we've got all we want. I'm the 
President: you're the chairman. Proper 
ty? I've got White Houses strewn all 
over the place and you have villas, pal- 
aces, tealiouses, etc. What we really want 
is glory, right, guys? You know 1 want to 
go down in history as the President who 
brought peace and I know, Mr. Chair 
man, you're thirsting for recognition, 
too. Why else did you write that book? 
So, here's my offer. If you soften a 
bit on Indochina and let us get out 
gracefully, then TI make you a best sell- 
er where it really maners: іп America, 
where the moola is. ГИ get you booked 
on the Tonight show, I'll see that. Joh 
ny handles you very nicely, even has his 
stalf write you a lew big laughs: and ГІ 
vouch that on the following day. you'll 
move at least 500,000 paperbacks,” 

Мао? eyes perked up ever so slightly. 
‘ou get me on Tonight shov 
“Thats not all" the Qua 


ning stance 
an, PI sce that Gillette immor- 
talizes you for all time by creating a 
deodorant for young people, and they'll 
call it—Red Guard 

Not enough.” Mao said. "The guer 
villas of the fish sce the people in the 


« 
Quaker 
g to 


im 
his 


said 
lose 


“OK, the 


patiently 


OK 
not 


wish 


Frank and funny, old and new... | 
653 limericks in the definitive collection 


Clifford Crist 


AN 

Said » prer reurs ston snih 

pr iE ue 

түнемел | 

EE | 
кыса E 


чол of ma 65 ее e volume 
i beta ou agens 


EDITED BY CLIFFORD M. CRIST 


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PLAYBOY 


196 


"I don’t mind the racing . . 


. it’s the giving up 


sex to get in shape that kills me!” 


momentum. “MGM will do a thriller 
called The Yellow Perils of Pauline. 
Mattel, the toy people, will create а 


nt 


huggable lide doll that says, ‘I w 
my Мао-Мао Revlon will put out a line 
of ‘The East Is Redhead’ hair dyes. For 
our friend the premier over here. we'll 
have Patti Page do a tune called It's a Sin 
to Tell а Chou En-lai. 
The fish cat the gue of the 
people: the people eat the fish of the 
E ued cagily, still 
willing ıo commit himself. 

OK, dang thou!” the Quaker 
tered, playing his tump cand. “You do 
the whole ninety minutes as the sole 
guest on the David Fyost show: David will 
to every comment you 
ıd in less than a week you'll be 
The New York Times 


rely 


sput- 


ber one on 
bestseller list." 

ОК. то 
accept! 

They set to work dr 
muniqué that would c 
of global history 

Now, on departure day, his Chinese 
accord signed. sealed and delivered, the 
Quaker was in rare form at the mica 
phone set up in front of the Presidential 
jet. the throng of 20,000,000 this time 
applauding loud and often at his Вап 
ter. “And when people ask me what 1 
think of Red Ci he sallied, “ГИ 
tell "em it gocs great with a white table- 
cloth. 


wd eyes" Mao giggled. 1 


Iting a joint com 
the course 


"Belore I return to the great people 


of the United States with this docum 
the great people of China, I'd like 
to present your chairman and your pre- 
mier with a little gift from my x 
He gestured toward the rear door of the 
aircraft and down a ramp came a flock 
of sweating Secret Servicemen rolling a 
dozen rickshas, "Here, my new-found 
friends, are twelve rickshas plated in 
twenty-fo it gold. Use them to start 
a Chinese taxi service called"—and he 
fired 1 arrow from Langh-In's 
quiver—"the Yellow Pedicab Company! 

It was the Chinese tum now. “A gift 
for you, Mr. President," said Chou. He 
opened a little wicker basket and out 


fron 


last 


jumped an adorable Pekingese dog that 
licked the President's hand lovingly. 
“And guess what weve named i 


Chinese Checkers 

“Chinese Checkers! Oh, that's funny, 
fumnceee,” said Richard Milhous Nixon. 
Unwilling to end this memorable mo- 
ment of bonhomie. he put his arms 
around Mao and Chou. "Come on, guys. 
Let's get aboard my jet for а farewell 
drink.” 

The Diet Pepsi flowed like rice wine, 
the toasts becoming more elfusive by th 
swallow, but then the Quaker noticed 
Kissinger off in a corner, trying to force 
hilarity onto his face, but deep іп а 
funk. 

“Hemy,” 
know what must be on you 
whole thing with y 
stroke, 


set up thi 
lomatic 


master forged 


between East and West, ruined your cre- 
dentials with the Harvard liberal estab- 
lishment by taking up the service of an 
old hawk like me. And now everybody's 
getting what they want, peace, glory, the 
David Frost show, and you can't help 
but think, "What's 
ГПА 
his chief's keen. perception 
pain-masked face away. 
"Well by golly, here's a lle gift 
Mao, Chou and Т have brought along 
for you 
snapped 
to the p 


by 
tumed his 


him, stand 
jor Wescott, 
heavy jowls quivering 


полз in his checks, “as you were!” 


wig tumbled to the carpet and he 
shook loose shoulder-length auburn tresses 


and began unbuttoning the Air Force 


“Oh, 1. jhe 
as he reached out to 
love goddess. 

"Henry, Henry,” she cried, the am- 
ple bosom suddenly swelling majes 
cally, sending brass buttons flying in all 
directions. 

And so, as the Sp 
ers | 
over the plains of Chin. 
utter contentment at the mi 
below. Soon there would be peace down 
there, and McDonald's hamburger 
nds. һай been ә monumental task, 
this journey to the inscrutable East, but 
he had met his seventh а had 
uiumphed оу 

In the front c 
tenant the President's: Steinway 
nd crooned а ballad the President 1 
quietly commissioned some weeks back 
just for the occasion. 


gasped Kissinger, 
enfold his filmic 


of 776. the Qu 


orce licu- 
sat at 


“I froze the prices on catsup and 
bec 

But ГИ make one thing perfectly 
clear, 

Be you hawk or dove, 

When there's a moon aby 

There's no freeze on love!” 


And in his private re 
the Quaker, now alone, ordered the 
projectionist to sereen his favorite film 
for the 437th time: The Green Berets. 
And his eyes were riveted to the machine 


compartment, 


gun in John Waynes hands, spraying 
s сайыс: message to the lile 
slam ying to infiltrate the 


fire 
thought grufily, 1 
give up everything. 


the heck, the Qual 
"D be expected to 


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from Jarman: 
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It’s the shoe message of the season. 
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PLAYBOY 


198 опе native wou 


LOS ANGELES «ia rom per 


drifted in last night's Zig Zag papers, and 
ten miles ahead it would come to an 
end on the beach ific Palisades. 


‘The Beverly Hills Hotel rose out of its 


palms and rich plantings with all the 
pinkstueco hauteur of a Monegasque 


palace, making the new hotels down 
Wilshire look as if they had 
sored out ol plastic and poly- 
ethylene by an architect who had since 
moved back to Miami Beach. The soft 
morning air of California that always 
seems to promise you the accomplish- 
of a dream that you will have 
forgotten by twilight smelted deliciously 
of coffee and eucaly nd money. 
Even in this town of early risers. Bene- 
dict Canyon. winding up through the 
Hollywood Hills behind the hotel, 
wouldnt wake up for half an hour. Its 
heated pools steamed with fairy mist 
among the bouguinvillaca. Above Eng- 
Tish Tudor and French Provincial. above 
banks of geranium and hibiscus, the 
scrub and crumble of the canyon 
loomed precipitously, scored by the con- 
crete vees of drainage ditches. To a New 
nder, used 10 мо 
rock-strewn hills it 
id, as humped 
wy as the mountains th 
ms together in a sandbox. The native 
Calilornia brush—chaparral—that rooted 
these unstable hills in pla 
of the most combustible varie 
а the world. and if you weren't in a 
slide area where the rain washed the 
land out from under your house, vou 
were in a fire area where you we 
supposed to light a cigarette even 
г own living зоот. d 
elements here, 
to the ай 


around 


been 


aci 


treacherous 
id taken 


nyonites | 


cc, like those precarious castles 
imagination in the illus- 
of children's books Om the 
other side of Mulholland, there w 
house that appeared to hover 
less, like a huge, metallic ilyi 
300 feet of 1 
ud 20room cottages cl 


saucer, 
ch 
ag. mirage- 
like. to the sides of slipping arroyos. 
There were swimming pools that had 
less purchase on solid ground than the 
bridge. Everywhere there was ex 
tempt by the Los Angeles 
construction industry to repeal the law of 
gravity, and yet in few places on carth 
was that law more remorselessly opera- 
e. According to even the most e 
ative scismologists, Southern С 
had been overdue for а major с 
since 
house up in the canyons would. prol 
become rubble at the bottom. 
"How's the old San And 
1 joke over his shop] 


поти 


57, and sooner or later every 
ply 


a 


50) 
cart, heaped with diet food, 
moth Hughes supermarket on Van Nuys 
Boulevard. 

"You know what they say.” a second 
would reply. "Los Angeles is going to lose 
by default. Have yourself a good day." 

The quake of two months before had 
killed 65 people and dumped Fisher's 
Furniture Store into the main street of 
San Fernando ten miles away: and only 
six days ago. the latest of over 200 
aftershocks had injured half a dozen 
more, tumbled pink cement-block garden 
walls all over Northridge and shaken 
me awake in my motel bed West 
Hollywood. Aftershock or 
Tt depe 


lorew 
led upon who was speaking 
“What's the sense of worrying about it” 
said a canyon dweller on his sun deck. 
up in Beverly Glen. He was wearing а 
pair of portable stereo earphones, with 
ten-inch antennas, that made him look 
like a large nut-brown insect tuned into 
the inaudible static of imtersicllar space. 
“You people back Кам arc 
with а the 
volved the body, w 
Why prep: r 
when you ean go to the beach 
on your 
the conti 
outside 


nvolved 
d We 
h today 


tomorrow, wil 


re 


known possibil 


heads 


mad with the certainty that the 
quake to come would save Charley Пот 
the gas chamber, intoned: "Go to the des- 
ert, lock your doors, protect your chil- 
going to be hea 
„ there was somethi 
in Los 
premonitions of apocalypse. Someti 
torpor or violence scemed the only op- 
tions in the long, w afternoons. 
Girls in the su інах 


s in the 


very Angeles that aroused 


High handed you slips of paper that 
read 


JESUS Is COMING SOON. А convert- 
low on the Sunset Sirip 
sed TIMELESS 


оола. 
eass. On 
scummy canal out in V 
] written in spray р 
1 XOT A STAR 

in deepest Toy 
a morcorle: 


BOOKS AND 


BELL-BOTTOM 


raw 
Up 
there was 


y going on at a 
lled Sandstone Retreat, And the 
very week 
n proposal 


up with the Swill 
t Calley execute! Charles 
the Los Angeles Coli: on 
ТУ, the proceeds to go to 


closed -cii 
charity. 

Driving farther up into the 
could see how all this reckless expendi 
ture of money to construct hanging gar- 
dens and floating houses in a subtropical 
never-never land might have encouraged 
Manson in his messianic reveries. “Why 


һе must 
echoing the words of cou 
geles contractors, who said. "You want 
ilevered swimming pool? Why not? 
use none of this would last. Its very 
ipt to imitate styles more rooted іп 
time or tradition served only to emph: 
size some fatal ephemera 
1 

the poor or the desperate would simply 
burn it all down while rich hedonists 
frittered away their afternoons, uying to 
make a perfect margarita. These houses 
would fill, these pools burst. these 
dens heave. And what was һе, Charley 
Manson—jailbird-prophet, | scruflo-sce 


то?” have asked himself, 


artless Los An 


ity beneath the 
ve гем» of the canyon life. One day 


but an advance agent of those v 
psychic and geologic forces that were 
inexorably building up toward the ulti- 


mate caraclysm? In the land of Aimee 
Semple Mcpherson, where showbiz and 
evangelism had always shared the same 
bed, he had thought to deliver his 
message in the religious episte that 
most typified L. А.е rock lyric: and 
when no one would listen, he had initi- 
himself no les in- 
nrerchangeable 


ed a dialog with 


digenous to this city of 
identities than the gossipy backbiting of 
the cynical hopefuls іп Schwab's dru 
store on the Strip: Who am 2 I 
Stranger in possession of the truth. But 
then who ave th are the ones to 


whom my uth is strange. So what must 
1 do? By the logic of Vieamized Ате 
ic 


I must bring them the truth, eve 
kills them, Show me the flaw. 

If the bewildered and resentful voices 
of Orange County, justiiying Calley's 
murders by turning him into а contem- 
porary Dreyfus, produced the eerie su 
picion that America had bec у 
schizophre ast, the justification for 
M: nes that you heard on the 
lips of dozens of young. blucey 
abiding Southern Californians suggested 
that sympathy for the Devil—in one 
guise or another—was cverywhe 
just then, 

1 иштей onto Mulholland 
pulled over and got out for а сїн; 
Down there. the smog—which 
level lent a faintly leprous cast t0 every 


cat 


son's c 


ed, law- 


Drive, 
re 


t street 


thing—hung in a diny zone of grease 
smeared above the Civic Center compl 
that rose like a group of headstones 


most ten miles away. A week before, 
on the parapet of the Сайыһ 
k Observatory, D had looked down 
The dirt ph hat wound up 
ountain pine 200 fect below 
Lugest of all municip 


y Scout 
up through dappled sunlight, and 1 had 
a level below them—a ied fox 
cross the path, his bushy tail 
less and aloft behind him, 
ıd then Т had looked up and out and 

‚ in the blink of an eye, these same 
downtown buildings The astringent 
smell of pine needles, the chilly plash of 


se 


"Gosh, Dr. Gatling, I can hear your heartbeat!" 


199 


PLAYBOY 


200 


water somewhere far below, bird song, a 
fecling of mountains; and, in the sime 
glance, the architectural cemeteries of 
bureaucracy rising from the stews of die 
basin. There was mo avoiding iu L.A. 
s as astoundingly horizontal as New 
York was vertical. But why had a city 
materialized on this unlikely spot? Tt was 
s if Manhattan had grown up out of 
the marshy wastes of north Jersey. 
Except for the invention of the auto- 


nobile, Los Angeles might have 

ined nothing but a second-class way 
station off the mission route to the 
north, instead of becoming the sixth 


дем city in the world. For a man 
without а car was as incongruous here as 
а motorist іп Venice, and L. A. has the 
highest ratio of automobiles to people of 
any major city anywhere. Strollers in 
Beverly Hills arly questioned 
by the police on the assumption that 
they are up to no good. Mass transporta- 
n is all but nonexistent, and you have 
10 walk blocks, often miles, to get a bus, 
and it rarely takes you anywhere near 
where you want to go. The old Pacific 
Electric trolley line that I had ridden 
from Pasadena 10 Los Angeles їп 1912 
ceased to function years ago, and there 
re people in Watts who have never 
been to Glendale. But once behind the 
wheel of an automobile, the Angeleno is 
liberated as few citizens of modern citics 
ever are. It's easier to drive the 12 miles 
from Hollywood to Santa Monica than 
to taxî Crosstown on 4th Street in New 
York, and I regularly zipped down to 
Hermosa Beach for break fast. 
Superhighways in other cities were 
predicated on the principle of avoidance; 
they were designed to move cars over or 
round the densities of the urban cen- 
ter. But the idea behind the freeway 
system here is accessibility—t0 provide 
high-speed es that can feed 
s into the city; and as а result, every 
part of this horizon-wide metropolis is 
reachable in no more than 55 minutes 
from any other part, and when you get 
to your destination, there is 
place to park. Here, where space is in 
abundance, a bank, а store, 
or à church without its own pa 
and, contrary 


more 


has small hope of custome: 
10 the comic scare stories of the Bob 
Hopes and Johnny Carsons, driving on 
the freeways. except during rush hours, 
is not like being trapped on a 100-foot- 
wide roller coaster without. tracks. It's 
merely the Connecticut Turnpike, dou- 
bled in width and How, and L. A. driv- 
crs are generally savvy, quick thinking 
and reliable in their reflexes, the awto- 
mobile being as natural an extension of 
thei as the New Yorker's comtor- 
ionis agility in boarding a five-o'clock 
subway car. There is little or no cursing 
or honking in an L. A. traffic id 
people wait behind their wheels, cach 
isolated in his own small, air-conditioned 


nem 


portion of space, patiently listening to 
the Top 40 or the Siga'erts. 

What accounts for this, D suspect, is 
the curious psychological fragmentation, 
the disoriented time sense, of this most 
mobile of all cities, where the Bekins 
moving vans are continually transport- 
ing people and their dillering Ше styles 
from one section of the town lo another, 
and where no опе takes very much no- 
tice of anyone else, being too absorbed 
in his own house or pool or [ The 
automobile has made L. А. ап intensely 
private city, a city without a distinct 
sense of neighborhood. let alone of com- 
munity. One's friends. mostly live ten 
miles away, and there is little of the 
public conviviality provided. elsewhere 
by bars. People get together in each 
others houses. and a girl Irom Palos 
Verdes either sleeps over or drives her- 
self. home—o ignated G. U. (Geo- 
graphically Undesirable) by her da 
Westwood. Indeed. city living in Los 
Angeles resembles nothing so much as 
living in the country, and the hippie 
enclaves up in Laurel Canyon have little 
more to do with the garden. apartments 
full of young marrieds on Fountain Ave 
nue a few blocks south than Upstate 
New York farmers have to do with the 
harried fatalists of Manhattan 

Up on Mulholland, I got back into 
my car and turned the key. The motor 
hummed with the quiet power that is 
the source of the feeling of limitless 
availability that always witches you, in 
Los Angeles, into the illusion that time 
s only а spurious obsession with 1 
s space is а Zenlike awareness 
of simultaneity; an idea that gives the 
ge Angeleno the slightly distracted 
look of a man hesitating ато 
many pleasant choices. 1 pressed the 
pedal and turned toward the Pacific. 

Down there on ıt. the floor 
of the San Fernando Valley stretched. 
away like the enormous grid of a waffle 
iron all the way to the 
lavender-tinged and ind 
morning. | rolled down 


is de 


ein 


rear 


my 


my 
and smelled the clusive. herbal odors of 


L.A/s fixation on foliage, remembering 
the summer I had spent alone out here 

1942, after which I had gone back 
a 16-year-old rebel ist 


convinced that he had 

ization—a leisure- 

ns super- 

markets, private pools and casual clothes 
n informal, almost Mediterranea 


ization that had come to him 
ion of utopian proportions in the hard- 
nosed reality of wartime America 


Now Mulholland Drive became а 
twisting, houscless, graveled mountain 
road. I passed a family of motorcyclists 


and father on full 
ids on tot-size replicas— 
icing on a level stretch. I slowed 
for а loin-cothed youth, beaded 


—the mother 


headband securing shoulderlength hair, 
who was loping along bareback on a pin 
10. A sense of everyone beginning his 
private day ccordance with his own 
whim, possessed me. Yet I was still well 
1h pal limits of a world 
city. Was it a new civilization, as 1 had 
felt years ago? (71. А. is embarrassing 
only when it tries to imitate other cit 
ies," the sun decker in Beverly Glen had 
said. “Mostly New York") Was it the 
city of the future, as both its knockers 
and its boosters were so fond of saying? 
(New Yorkers are ulcerous, Angelenos 
orthopedic,” a sociologist had conclud- 
difference between. brooders 
mullers and maníacs.") 
above all, a city of now, a city 
without tenses, оп which the past exert 
ed little or no drag, and the pull of the 
future might best be measured by а 
scismograph? Wasn't it the America of 
the Seventies, pi the selLearved 
X on Charley Manson's forehead? 

I thought of him racing along thi 
very road in а саг full of his girls 
(These days in L.A., every profession 
has its groupies,” a young man, drinking 
sangria on the Strip, had said), feed to 
any and all distances by the interna! 
combusti gine, which had eventu 
ally built a psy 
into his soul, at once the most pii 
pariah and the most pitiless judge of 
whatever America was becoming, calmly 
thinking to himself (as he would hint in 
the courtroom later), "I am only а mii 
sor of all this—the hamburger st 
that look like hamburgers, the money 
that builds hills as well as the houses to 
put on them, the miniature rain forests 
arrive on truck beds. and all the 
ies that are built on other fanta 
sies in this land of lost distinctions. 
What they sce in me is only the madness 
they have made.” But 1 was dissatisfied 
with the monolog. Like all conclusions 
about anything in L. A, it seemed facile, 
off the mark. 

r below me, and parallel to Mulhol- 
land, the neons of Ventura. Boulevard— 
which Romain Gary had once called the 
most interesting street in the world— 
were just coming on, redun the 
morning sun. It had been сапу pi 
types of such shopping strips that | 
seemed so Babylonian to me im 1912. 
But on this trip I h 
mostly by my lack of surprise. for in the 
intervening years, the peculiar life style 
of Los Angeles had spread back across 
the mountains and the deserts and. the. 
prairies, amd now Towa City had its 
equivalent of the Sunset Stip, and 
there were supermarkets in all the Fay- 
ettevilles that rivaled those іп Burbank, 
and my own town in Connecticut 
sported, proportionately, almost as 
swimming pools as Inglewood. ‘The Los 
Angelization of America had become 
complete, and people in Evanston and 


will mu 


i been surprised 


Panasonic gives you 
something Detroit cant. 
Seven 8-track car stereos to choose from. 


Maybe Motown can give you 

the carof your dreams. Butonly 
Panasoniccan give you the8-track 
car stereo to match. Because no 
one. Not the Detroit boys. Not the 
car stereo boys. Makes as wide a 
range of car stereos as Panasonic. 

To start with, we have economy 
models. Like Model CX-355. 
Which stints on the bulk and the 
bucks, but splurges on features 
like automatic channel changers. 
Separate controls for volume, 
toneand balance. And single- 
touch operation. So you can keep 
your eyes on the road while your 
ears are on the music. 

You can get a little fancier with 
Panasonic's Model CX-830. With 
its beautiful2-stage pre-amp. 
And some other things. Like a 
foldaway panel for the thumb- 
wheel control. Plus a lush 
cartridge fit while the tape is 
playing. And an ejector button 
for when it stops. 

We can also give you 8-track 


car stereos with something extra. 
Radio. AM in our Model CQ-251. 
And FM in Model CQ-909, 
which has a Distant/Localswitch. 
To help you pull those faraway 
stations into your car. 

But the car stereo of your 
dreams doesn't have to play just 
in your car. If you choose one of 
Panasonic's car and home models. 
Like the CX-880, our 8-track 
model. Or the CQ-880. Which 
combines 8-track with an FM 
stereo radio. 

In both units, the player slides 
out of your car and slips into an 
optional home adapter. And vice 
versa. With no wires to dis- 
connect. Or connect. Both have 
sliding controls for volume, tone 
and balance. IF and RF stages. 
Ete. Etc. 

And if you really adore your car 


and worship your ears, you don't 
have to stop at stereo. Because 
Panasonic lets you put the new 
4-channel sound on wheels. 
Through our quadrasonic 8-track 
player. Model CX-601. Which 
can also play in your home. ` 
So your family doesn't have to 

sit in the garage to listen. 

Nobody else gives you the 
choice in 8-track car stereos that 
Panasonic does. But there are a 
few things we give you without 
giving you any choice. Solid-state 
circuitry. Adjustable control 
shafts that make installation a 
cinch. And the exclusive 
Panasonic vertical head move- 
ment to keep the music from 
jumping off the road whenever 
your car hits a pothole. 

You may get the car of your 
dreams from Detroit or Honest 
John. But there's only one place 
to find the car stereo that was 
made for it. Your nearest 
Panasonic dealer. 


PLAYBOY 


202 


Shreveport onestopshopped to Muzak 
Mantovani, banked from the front seat 
оГ their cars. barbecued in their back 
yards, went solt-in-the-leg in their split- 
levels and eventually took on that. faint- 
lj passive, vegetal, dreaming look that 
had once seemed so peculiarly Souther 
fornian. 
When you lounged on a garden chaise 
outside a summer house on Cape Cod, 
with Burt Bacharach on the stereo and a 
steak on the charcoal, you were іп Los 
Angeles. When you made drinks built 
round fruit j your tufted, 
ther minibar with the abstract. paint- 
ng from Sears on the wall behind it (as 
Galley had been photographed doing 
countless times), you were in Los Ange- 
les. When anxiety, and the Kantian sense 
responsibility to which it 


sometimes leads, seemed less urgent than 
the next fleet une, then, too. АП 
America was йа dicamin'—as 


the song had said. 

Perhaps only the nts of the 
vast, decaying cities of the East, where 
the nerves always sizzled and the feet 


always ached, had escaped this process, 
bly those cities were doomed 
New 


but prol 
anyway. How could such places a: 
York survive in an era of prolifer 
population and pollution? They 
nowhere to go but upward into the poi- 
soned air, whereas L. A. whose regula- 
tions concerning auto emissions were 


mi 
abcady more rigorous than fumme na- 
tional standards, had only to annex an- 
other community or two, link them to 


the city by a freeway and build them 
their own versions of Ventura Boulevard, 
The most interesting street in the 


world? No, that was only a left-handed, 
Gallic way of stating that an ultimate had 
been reached—like saying ihat Hiro- 
shima v 


the most interesting ruin in 
the world. Still, Ventura Boulevard had 
achieved some kind of giddy 2 
the shoppingcenter vision. Th 


the 
ive hun- 


т of finality about it, 

science of arousing the acquisi 
austed all the com- 
of neon, poured 
concrete and plate glass. It stretched 
unbroken, arrow straight, all the way 
fom the Hollywood Freeway 10 Wood- 
land Hills, tying together a string of 
such separate communities as Studio С 
Sherman Oaks, Encino and 
Twelve miles of midway! Twelve long 


БА 
Tarzana. 


Î hucksterism. where not 
s tasteful to the imag- 
And 


miles of carniv: 
а single thing w: 
pleasing to the сус! 
yet there was а stupely 
about it. 

You could live out your entire Ше on 
Ventura. Boulevard—be born, 
die and be buried from 
"aco Bele, a 
asas City ме 


ination or 


vied, 


hard- 
house or a chic 
ench restaurant. You could furnish an 


boozing К: 


apartment in Swedish modern or a m 


m in fine antiques. You could learn 
karate or how to swim. You could bowl, 
dance, ice- е or ride horseback. You 
could buy, rent, wash or repair а car—or 
a motorcycle, or a camper, or a mobile 
home. You could go to movies, saddlcrics, 
nade entertainments, jazz clubs, lectures, 
or even church. h was the ultimate 
bazaar, and drivi its length three 
days before—the temperature up in the 
high 80s, everything two blocks away 
unfocused by а shimmer of heat and 
‚ the glare off cartops, chrome, 
neon and aluminum piercing even my 
Polwvoids—I had had one of those pre- 
monitory hallucinations that a man who 
has been quits with cities for some years 
occasionally experiences: Eventually this 
street would lengthen, store after store, 
mile after mile, state after state, all the 
way back to the other ocean—the vast 
signboards walling out the wees, the 
leveled conerete denying the contours of 
the land, the towering neons creating a 
perpetual, timeless hour that was, ecrily, 
neither night nor day. At last, the conti- 
nent would be conquered; its ability to 
disturb us. enlarge us. depress us or 
arouse us finally annulled. And the val- 
ley that had given birth 10 this incredi- 
ble street—the valley thi over 100 
square miles of tract houses and subdivi- 
sions where no down payment and instant 
financing made the split-level paradise of 
leisure living and wife swapping avail- 
able to all—the valley would finally lea 
over the mountains that. circumscribed 
ha ad become America. The meanest 
aspect of the democratic dre: 
at last: Everythi 
founded on the idea of di 
have become one thing, 

T looked out across the vast shimmer 
toward the mountains that were paling 
from lavender to beige as the smog 
accumulated. Had а similar vision of an 
dleclass prison, into 
з of Americans scemed to 
be so happily rushing, relieved Calley of 
any sense of personal complicity in his 
own actions? There were probably thou: 
sands of replicas of his black-leather bar 
down there in as many recreation rooms, 
and certainly tens of thousands of valley- 
ites could see nothing wrong in what 
he had donc. To them, HsOn's as- 
sumption of nihilistic freedom was the 
real danger, and they glimpsed no sin 
larity to it in Calley’s appallingly 1 
al enslavement to "orders"—no. matter 
how inhuman. A feeling of the hopeless 
polivization of life in Los Angelized 
America swept over me. I felt as alien in 
it as a refugee from the novels of Hen- 


achieves 


sity, would 


er- 


ту James, Then 1 swung around a curve 
on that mountain road, on either side 
of h this endless. fattened city 
sp and started the gradual de 
sce id sensed rhe ocean like a hope. 

ш 00 skip Malibu, I tuned 


onto Topanga Canyon Boulevard, want- 


ing my trip's last sight of the Pa 
come after those wild miles of gorge 
thicket where the red tiles of Italianate 
villas baked in the sun atop precipices, 
and houseless roads wound up into hills 
where there was nothing but the omni- 
present water pipes of a city optimist 
cally an 


ipating endless expansion, T 
wanted to get a quick sense of how this 
last. this greatest of oceans must have 
looked to the Spanish dons. Continent’s 
end! Nowhere сізе to go. And there it 


was—bluegray, milkily opaque, with a 
mild surf and no horizon. decd, I had 
yet to see the Pacific horizon on th 


trip. There was always a strange fog 
bank obscuring it half a т 
rther down the coast the evil exuda- 
tions of the refineries filled the air with 
a visible murk. 

The morning was sunny and cool and 
half clear (а combination of conilicti 
attributes that perhaps only an Ange- 
leno could comprehend), and I turned 
south on the Pacific Coast Highway, look. 
ing for breakfast. A firm wind blew in 
bland, sea-freshened gusts across my 
face. Early hitchhikers waited at thc 
lights with transistors, sleeping bags, 
surfboards, babies. The slopes of the 


massive headlands up toward Malibu 
were pale yellow with a profusion of 
tiny mustard flowers. The coast along 
andy, 


there was raw, 
ith that distu 


looming, misty, 


g that was somehow only intensified 
by the imitation Imh-and-plaster Porto- 
finos and Torremolinos that dotted it. 
At Pacific Palisades, 1 gave a lilt to 
two girls—all cascades of hair, fringed 
buckskin, beads and bare fect—who 
were taking a portable cassette player to 
Hermosa Beach for the day. They got in 
the back and, on a whim, 1 offered to 
drive them there. They seemed typical 
specimens of the perpetually tanned, 
streaked-blonde, sal-burnished. pretty 
Southern Califor- 
nia beach life produces in such numbers 
out of sunshine and orange juice, and 
the tale 1 overheard in the next half 
hour may not have been untypical, c 
ther. They were both 18 and they had 
met only the day before in Lum's in 
Santa Monica, The taller one with thi 
freckles had left her husband and thy 
month-old baby two weeks ago. 
never marry again,” she said. “Every kiss 
is an obligation. Man, they figure they've 
got you, You're not free anymor 
‘The plumper one with the bangs had 
been beaten up by her father after à 
weeklong argument about gening her 
own apartment. "I managed to call the 
police, and he got so embarrassed—be- 
cause of the neighbors—that 1 had a 
chance to cut,” she said. She had just 
sold her Camaro and would live with a 


young narcissist U 


The earth can't handle | 
many more birthday parties. 


"Ao 


It was fun while it lasted. But the party's almost over. 
Mother Earth has had enough. 

Every day of every year almost 350,000 babies are born 
on the Earth. That means a net increase of 70,000,000 
people each year. 70,000,000 extra mouths to feed. 
70,000,000 new bodies to clothe and comfort. The Earth 
can't handle it alone. It needs your help. 


Consider the alternatives to overpopulation. And what 
smoller families would mean to your world. 


Bring the Earth back to the way it ought to be. Clear skies. 
Clean water. And just enough inhabitants to assure a 
comfortable ride through eternity. 


Please consider all the good you can do. Please consider 
all the good we can do together. 


Please consider Zero Population Growth. Send in this cou- 
pon, won't you? 


Prepared for Zero Population Growth by Foote, Cone & 
Belding, San Francisco. Copywriter: Bob Black. Art Direc- 
tor: Kris English. Photography: Donna Goldstein. 


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cated to bring the problem of overpopulation under 
control. Won't you find out what we're doing and 
what you can do to help? 


Name 

Address. 

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( ) please send me infor- ( )donor $50/yr. 


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{ I'd like to join ZPG { ) patron $500/yr. 
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Zero Population Growth 
343 Second Street Los Altos, California 94022 


PLAYBOY 


204 


id in Ocean until June, when 
she graduated from high school, and 
then pack it in and go to Vegas. Both of 
them suspected they were pregn 

All of this came out in an саѕу, casua 
сапу flow as we passed the algac- 
ed canals of Venice, where dirty cats 
1 uncombed dogs scavenged around 
the mudguards of 1951 Studebakers in 
front. of fown bungalows, behind 
the psychedelically painted windows of 
which I imagined shaggy-faced young 
men, who carpentered lor a living. hav- 
ing a second cup of bancha tea with the 
hluejeaned girls who cooked their mac- 
robiotic rice. A scant two minutes lat 
we were in Marina del Rey, with its 


che 


ten-story apartments, crenelated with. 
balconies, its subterranean garages іші 
of Porsches, па its enormous man- 


made harbor where 6000 pleasure craft 


were berthed—an instant Brasilia risen 
fullgrown from a bog: and I was 
amazed again by the violent. juxtaposi- 


tions—the chopped out and the upward- 
ly mobile living literally within sight of 
one another—that didn't seem to amaze 
or antagonize the Angelenos at all. 


"Oh. yes. ched my alteibirth 
come out when I had Cheyenne," the 
aller one was reassuring the plumper 


a 
le the highway in El Se- 
gundo, where bright borders of pansies 
Пай been planted along the chain-link 
ad the air stank of chemicals. 
nd ol groovy, really—the whole 


y Pm with is really 
beautiful" the plumper one replied, 
sceming not to notice the long pier in 
Manhattan Beach at the end of which 
the ominous tankers waited. nor the 
sudden unearthly roar of the jets climb- 
ing out of L. A. International, leaving an 
ugly-brown trail stain behind them in the 
sca air. "But I won't stay with him after. 
June. He's into too many weird scenes. 1 
think I may have the baby, though. Don't 
you just dig babies? 

I drove them down to the public pi 
in Hermosa Beach, where motels, taco- 
burrito joints and live-bait stores fronted 
bsolutely pebbleless esplanade of 
soft sand. A few surfers were paddling 
out on their shiny black wet 
suits to the br , and rhe sum 
was as wan ах а moon in the white ski 
“WI work out for you,” the taller one 
was saying, "just like ill work out for 
me. It always works out, Say, you know, 
ally, though, thanks for the ride. It was 
ıl nice talking to you 
I watched them ankling off across the 
sand, their lives seemingly no heavier in 
their hands than the caseue that 
hummed with Melanic—olf for a day at 
the beach to work on their tans. I drove 
on south of town to Cap'n Abab's Coffee 
Shop on the marina, where the gunstock 
beams were sleck with too much varnish 


now 


boards i 


ing po 


with protective plastic, to be faced with 
one of those enormous California brea 
sausage pi the 
coasters, 


tics 


[asts—hashbrowns, 
size of beer 
fewer than three) and grape jelly in an 
impenetrable litle cube—that 
make the Easterner feel vaguely stingy 
th his coffee and toasted Engl 
pondered the meanings of the beach life, 
which burned the hours away like pools 
of sea water evaporating under the sun. 
else did it burn away? The surfers 
paddled out, waited. gauged the swell, 
mised it and waited again—finally to be 
rewarded by 15 pure seconds of the sur- 
render of the self to a tidal rhythm, the 
body energized by its brief mom 
the wave's crest, rushing downw: 
loosed, free—toward the brink of a state 
before consciousness, that primal state we 
had lost when water ceased to be our 
element. But was something more sur- 
rendered, too? 

I walked off my breakfast in seaside 
streets full of campers, their. curtains 
still drawn, the occupants still asleep, 
шей of the minor uproar that was 
on just then over this use of the 
public thoroughfares as hotels. The kids 


of California seemed to have taken, en 
masse, to the VW buses, the Econolines, 
the delivery vans chromeless with age, 


and they wi dering up and down 
the coast, following the surf, the rock 
festivals or some elusive promise of bet- 
vibes elsewhere. It seemed 
d good to me, Nothing 
that need for 


ter 


roors—lor a 
wth—that seasonal change 
necessitated back East. Life here was as 
undulant and gravity-free and crazy as 
making love on a water bed. The 
that the ski slopes of Mammoth Mountain 
were only a few hows away from this very 
beach narcotized the sense of having to 
carn am experience in advance. Had it, 
as well, so hypnotized my two passengers 
that the panic or despair about the fix 
they were in, which they might have felt 
in Boston's winter streets, simply hadn't 
materialized? 1 didn't think so. After all, 
the psyches of the young, who had 
grown up in Los Angelized America, һай 
Deen Los Angelized, too. and the conceiv- 


baby was 1 consequence 


awakened 


more 
1 and temporal hang 
1 word) than was thqu 
—which also happened while you w 
paying attention, It was simply 
event, an occurrence. among 
of other occurrences, 10 which it 
litle more direct relation th Ur 
Westwood. 

“The riots?" a 
mused to me ci 
I've nev 
it’s twenty miles from here, and it’s 
almost as hard to get into—because of 
is to get out of.” He 
seemed troubled by my pursed lip. 


h all the mora 


n e: 


ups of t 


had 
tts to 


had 
Well, 


nc writer 
ys before. 


ight d 
г even. been to Watts, 1 mean, 


“Well, what I'm trying to say is this: The 
riots weren't happen Westwood, 
and any idea of the «йу as a sing! 
cohesive human unit, held together by 
community conscience, seemed unreal, 
even dishonest, in a town where ош 
of-work actors arrived in Bentleys to pick 
up their unemployment checks and the 
mayor regularly indulged in racial innu- 
endo at election time. 

АП at once, 1 decided that 1 wouldn't 
go to Hemy Fonda's party after all. 
These were my last hours in L. A; why 
spend any of them with people I could 
just as well see in New York. Rome. 
London or Nass? It didn’t seem rele- 
vant to the tip, somehow. Then 1 had 
to laugh, realizing that my two passen 
gers would have considered. partying 
with Henry Fonda very relevant. indeed. 
After all, he was related to Peter and 
Jane, wasn’t he? 

It was after 12 when T 
Galaxie into the pell-mell, 
of northgoing trafic on the Sam Diego 
Freeway, with a feeling that ] was com- 
pleting a great circle—the canyons, the 
valley, the beaches—that had Hollywood 
as its terminal point, Sun-blistered. boule- 
vards of stuccoed counts, where you i 
ined the Bogart of [m а Lonely Place 
uying to open a can of Coors for his 
hangover, fanned out into the heat haze 
on both sides of the highway, and T al- 
most missed the exit for 
Boulevard that 
rens of the Baldw 
da 


vive а forest fi 


ng pumps 
d down like genullecting 


What other major city in the world 
would tolerate an oil field in its cemer? 
But then, oil had created L. А.о 
with aviation, їсс 
the movies—commodi ephemeral 
as the next defense budget and the 
passing taste in Гамаѕу, and in Pasadena 
the $70,000 homes of 31-year-old com- 


along 


jes, tourism and 


ies 


puter analysts were up for sale and you 
saw their owners reading the want ads 
in the Los Angeles Times over collec in 
the House of Pan s 
What other city, where power and 
water should have been elements as 
sun in winter London, would 
terfall above a down- 


town freeway. or sport so many swim- 
ming pools that from the air its vast 
grid looked as if chips of turquoise For- 
mica had been scattered ov or burn 
with so much candle power at night that. 
it had all but put out the stars in the 
telescope of the Mount Wilson Observa- 
tory 20 miles away? 

What other city could boast that the 
richest source of ice-a the 
world (the La Br 


“HALTWHOGOFSTHERE2!” 


205 


PLAYBOY 


206 


richest source of plasti 
Amcrica—CBS- TV City—w 
ly ten blodi yî You felt the bones 
of extinct mammotlis under the bubbling 
macadam of the parking lots around the 
Farmer's Market nearby, and the tired 
husbands from Des Moines, in sec- 
s. plodding through 
wrapped 
their tireless wives, seemed 
no less bewildered and unadaptive than 
the enormous, sad beasts upon whose vis- 
cous graves they rested their openwork 
huarachos. 

What other city suffered so publicly 
from the identity crisis that secretly af 
Ilias many American. cities that feature 
writers ts newspapers continually, 
obse: atomized the soul of the 
sons to San Francisco 
party chat like the 
writing to 
or? H you said (as | had many 
times) that you much preferred L. A. to 
Frisco, Angelenos looked at you 
they were searching for an ulterior 


tiv 


‚ and when they learned that you 
were from New York, kilowatts of defen- 
siveness crackled in the air like summer 
lightning. 

What other city expended such aston- 
ishing creativity on the decor of its 
restaurants, and then set al every 
foodstuff that wouldn't actually be de- 
stroyed by flame? For Los Angeles was 
as infatuated by the idea of flambé as 
it was by the concept of the cantilevered 
strut, and I had spent two weeks duck- 
ing the s that burned like torches 
in the pagan catacombs of Los Angeles’ 
singed cuisine. 

Yet despite all this, I liked the place. 
Pants of it were cally ugly as 
if Luis Buñuel had designed them as 
sets for Los Olvidados, but parts of it 
were as impressionistically beautiful as 
an Talian hill town reconstructed by the 
artisans of MGM in the Thirties. If 
someone had given am imaginative, im- 
patient, pleasure-prone adolescent 100 
billion dollars and told lı to build a 


ewe 


"Since most of our power was usurped by the Executive 


branch, 1 find T have y 
lo gelling my. 


nore [ree time to devote 
selj re-elected.’ 


city that would gratify all his divergent 
urges. he would have built something 
very much like Los Angeles, and the city 
had all the unself-conscious charm, vi 
ity and naiveté of The Threepenny Opera 
staged by Holden Caulfield in his girl- 
friend's garage. 

Т drove on toward the castellated hills 
that rose in a patchwork of sere brown, 
tropic green and stucco white over Hol 
lywood. Now that I had no need of a 
dinner jacket, what was left to do? Pack 
up. retrieve some shirts from the cleaner: 
check my reservation on the morning 
flight home and make an cight-thirty 
curtain for The Trial of A. Lincoln. Sud- 
denly, I missed my wife with a kcenness 
that had nothing to do with the usual. 
nagging absences that a man discovers, 
one by one. after a few days in a motel 
The trip was all but over, the "business 
donc, and 1 wished that she were there 
beside me in that car. She had never bec 
to Los Angeles, and 1 imagined the pleas 
ure of showing her—what? Hollywood 
Boulevard, with its bronze stars, cach 
bearing the name of a showbiz perso 
embedded in the sidewalk? The Grand 
Central Market in downtown L. A., where 
you could buy Chinook salmon, Calimyrr 
figs. cooked lambs’ heads like Franc 
Bacon skulls, chili pasilla, sweet paprika, 

sting rabbits and all the other 
gredients of the Oriental, Mexican and 
hern European cuisines that inte: 
ıgled there? Асте E on La 
vhich would sell you a flowered- 
porcelain toilet bowl for $32 
Studios, where the tou 
mock-up movie sets that had been care- 
fully built то resemble real sets? Disney- 
12 No. Turning onto Fountain, with 
ubby palms and pecling stucco, 1 
мей her to be there to sense what I 
sensed so strongly in the afternoons of 
the ambivalent mood of a 
nation among its conflicting de- 
sires—either to star in the next half cen- 
tury's alltime money-maker or to drop 


out of as completely as a hermit 
among the scorpi Death Valley. 
1 parked to pick up my 


laundry and 
those арр: 


ost bumped into one of 
that 1 had come to call 
“the ghost ladies of Hollywood.” They 
c usually in their late 60s or early 
nd there was of musty eccen- 

ity about them—of oversweet ре 
nd too much Coty face powde 

of diaphanous clothes saved in anic 
trunks and the timeshviven flesh of 
е taken to gossip 
h themselves They 


70 


with their Twenties pocket- 
books and their hectic shades of 
rouge and their huge, haunted eyes—to 
buy a lamb chop, a container of cottage 
cheese and a single сап of beer. You 
always saw a face inside that ruined 
countenance that you vaguely recognized 


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-Mary Miles Minter, Billie Dove. Bar- 
bara La Marr—and in that face you 
glimpsed a vanished Hollywood of 


Suizas 
took no notice of the girls in hip-hupgers 
and Capczios getting out of Karmann 
Ghias in font of garden apartments with 
mes like the Fou Blu. Ghosts 
themselves, they seemed to be conversing 
silently with ghosts. They were always on 
foot (a fact unusual enough in this tow 
without pedestrians), and for a moment 
the rueful, twilight sadness beneath 
Hollywood's flamboyance came over you. 
АП of its cheap dreams had come cruelly 
true in the faces of these wraithlike Nor- 
ma Desmonds, and the brevity of glamor, 
the attritions of a lifetime devoted to the 
phantasmal, and the inexorable passage 
of the усиз no matter what, were as 
graphic there as the 
pull would ever expunge ag: 
Dyan Cannon, furcoated despite the 
temperature, Giller than she appeared 
on the screen, her caramel-tinted hair in 
need of a rinse, still strode into Schwab's 
if nothing could ever ruin the mo- 
ment of celebrity she was enjoying. 
Hollywood! My carliest ambition, 


thi- 


drifted New Hampshire mill towns in the 
late Thirties, 1 had survived puberty's 
first awareness of estrangement on a diet 
of two films samed of Sun- 
set Boulevard as feverishly as other boys 
dreamed of the Boul N But the 
dream, even then, had пе dream 


rls whose bodies were the stulf of mas 
turbatory myth: and when I 
in 1942—all of 16—I found that some 
thing in the В films that had been shot 
in these very streets had prepared me for 
the olher Hollywood, the Hollywood of 
moldering side-street bungalows where 
whirring table [ans moved used air 
through stifling bedrooms; the Holly- 
wood of ugly volley tracks under а 
webbing of power lines: the Hollywood 
of the 1937 version of A Star Is Born, 
where, for every Janet Gaynor who suc- 
ceeded in wooing the gods of fame, 
there was a Fredric March who walked 
into the Pacific as a suitor who had 
failed; the seedy, anonymous, dream- 
shattered Hollywood of Nathanael West 
—a Hollywood to which I was still 
drawn, because, with age, you come to 
have a certain distant fondness for your 
illusions. They are the last connection 
to your earliest self. 

Just the day before, at dawn, I had 
made an ironical pilgrimage down to 
the old Paramount Studios on Melrose, 
where I had hung around through swel- 
tering summer afternoons almost 30 yeas 
before in hopes of seeing Cecil B. Dc 
Mille, or at least his automobile, pa 


rived here. 


“You're not nearly so inserulable when you're horny.” 


through the famous wrought-iron 
gates. The neighborhood. w 
ow—dingy stucco couris advertisir 
rooms for singles, an early-morning s 
of pinto beans and sour coffee, Western 
Costume rising like а mausoleum among 
the Mesi s, and the not.unpleasant 
air of an abandoned Thirties airplane 
hangar about the studio itself. The bill- 


boards on its sand-brown walls touted 
three TV series for every film, and just 


side those fabled gates on Marathon, 
the stanchions stacked with the bicycles 
of extras on an carly call were v 
dence that—as the leaders of а 
ing industry had told President Nixon two 
before in San Clemente—76 per- 
t of the members of the Screen. Ac- 
ап $3000 
last усаг, a sum that was considered 
below the poverty level. Plainly, tl 
action and the money had moved else- 
where—to Cinecitta, or Shepperton, or 
Timbuktu. 

Hollywood, which had been the dre 
factory of the Twenties and Thirtie 
when America's aspirations were as iı 
nocent and hopeful as a youth pl 
ning to marry Jean Arthur and thinking 
of bedding Jean Harlow, had become a 
once sembly line of sop. in the 
form of dozens of hours of inane sit 
tion comedy ground out for TV like 
sausage meat each weck, and the capital 
of munch where, along Mon 
Boulevard alone, you could paint a girl's 
nude flesh for a few dollars an how 


inta 


study her crotch in full-color close-ups 


movies made on the outskirts of Bur- 
bank, or have her service you in any one 
of twodoren massage parlors, or pur 
chase glossy-paper picture magazines of 
catimg—or being caen by—men 
з and assorted. animals, Green 


Acres or Lust Pit? Calley ог Manso 
Was there an honest choice Бек 


them? Sometimes it seemed that it was 
to such antitheses of unreality 
America 


that 
s secret life had come down. 
aps it was as important to resist 
s of this either 
Г us who could to continue 
icularly in 


[or as it 


was for those 


10 remember and to hope—pa 
this city of the present tense 
Iked to La Brea. went down to 
1 started back to the саг. A 
Mtemoon glow burnished 
g with that warm light that 
always seems to foretell the languid, 
yellow moon that will hang in the palm 
wees, like nocturnal гареб 
once the sun. goes down in the Pacific 
The air wafted against the skin 
the phanto ess of long. 
dozed orange groves. I felt that elu 


Sunset 
golden, 


some 


cal of men in places that are still w 


ished. still enamored of thc 
inventing themselves, and with some 
amazement I realized that perhaps thi 


might be challenging to live a 
least for a while. 


There was по moon when I parked 
just cast of Sunset and Vine some hours 
later, but the long fingers of searchlights 
were playing on the upper stories of 
darkened office buildings and хо rert 
TURN signs had been set up in most of 
the intersections. Jesus, P thought, do 
they still indulge in all that hyping up 
of fale excitement? In 19712 For а 
play? The crossings were thronged with 
n gypsy garb. There were a lot of 
policemen on the sidewalks, tying to 
look like tolerant Dutch undes Th 


PLAYBOY 


208 Ambassador. 


metronomic thumping of a bass drum 
and the steely whang of overamplified 


guitars filled the night with their 
blurted reverberations. 
Then I saw that the  searchlights 


weren't in front of the Huntington Hart- 
ford Theater two blocks away but just 
outside a parking lot on El Centro, 
across [rom which some sort of carnival 
lofted its canopy of light and noise out 
of a canvas enclosure. The green and 
yellow struts of a Ferris wheel turned 
leisurely, out of rhythm to the music, 
nd I realized that all the panoply wa 
for the Tenth Annual Los Angeles Teen 
age Fair, and not for А. Lincoln, after 
all The Rolling Stones wailed their 
defiance of the very sort of “cultural 
event" I was attending, wailed against 
Hollywood and all it had once meant. 
But then, of course, they had comman- 
dcered the searchlights now, they were 
the objects of the false excitement, and 
ЗЕ there was am establishment. anymore 
—an ingroup whose money, fame and 
influence would make a difference to to- 
morrow—they certainly cut more of the 


mustard than the likes of Henry Fonda. 
But Fonda, I found, hd a searchlight, 
too—though it was smaller and old 


than the others—and three quarters of 
п hour before cur there were 
all of 10 or 15 people in front of the 
theater, A TV cameraman was filining the 
fans who were filming him filming them, 
nd the bronze star in the sidewalk und 
the marquee bore the name Theodore 
Koslolf, a Paramount feature player from 
the early Twenties, Fonda's own star was 
in the sidewalk in Iront of the parking 
Jot just down the block, It was stre 
with tire marks. 

I took up a position in the lobby 
cross from the ticket window as more 
onlookers began to gather on the 


ked 


scribable look of the outof-towner that a 
certain kind of middle-aged Angeleno 
never loses: the look of a vacationing de 
tist from Wichita. They took pictures of 
the billboards with their Instamaties and 
ously, as if 
ver or Edgar Buchanan might 
ng behind that plaid shirt, those 
sagging Bermudas. 

George Montgomery arrived, and 
smiled, and was photographed. Van. Hef- 
lin cime. А few months later, he would 
be dead of a heart attack, and this night 
he looked grizzled and tired ay he signed 
autographs. As . he was a bigger 
draw than Montgomery, and so һе joked 
with the news photographers, who, when 
he had gone into the theater, said, 
“Well, who else is going to tum up 


ied one another surrepti 


si 


“The ushers, thats who," someone 
cracked. 
“Listen,” another said, “this is all rou- 


tine, . . . Там week, I caught Shirley 
and Jack and David Cassidy outside the 


James Garner arrived in a tuxedo 
(obviously, he was going to the party at 
the Hilton afterward), and he was 
ger than either Montgomery or Heflin 
because he was a TV star, and he smiled 
his bland, apologetic smile as the flash- 
bulbs exploded in his face. 

The crowd was thickening now. Two 
tall, disdainful blacks, with a Di: 
lool 
theater in 
with ера 


th black-vinyl coats 
Ісік of ostrich feathers. The 
play was about the arrtignment of “A. 
Lincoln” before a kangaroo court of angry 
blacks, and they had the look of critics 
who had already written th 

The searchlight tractor coughed and 
roared, Faces, as famished by fantasies as 
by a diet of chow mein, hungered for 
more under the unreality of the lights. 
‘Then one of the photographers, looking 
down the street, called out, “Hold it 
right there, Liz—for a good one,” and 
а «сер, с g даяр, somewhere be- 
tween а death raule and orgasm, swept 
the crowd forward But 
it wasn't Liz Taylor. It was—oh, you 
у now—what'sher-name! It 
s Elizabeth Ashley and George Pep- 
d, and they had been invited to the 
ty, too. and looked cool and dressed 
up and married as the autograph books 
were thrust into their faces and the 
newsmen begged lor “just one more.” 

The lobby was filling now. Industry 
men—producers with fishy, dead, san- 
paku eyes, agents with swept-back, gr 
ing pompadours suff with lacquer— 
around with tic Aish 
wi nced under the lights and 
pulled the collars of brocaded opera 
capes over the telltale wrinkles on their 
anned throats, These people knew the 
dangerous emotions that the proximity, 
in the flesh, of the symbols of magic 
could unleash in this crowd—" But. he's 
short!" or "Ds һет—йъ really herl" 
—and their faces were pinched, weary, 
emptied, scared. They knew what was 
under the rock; they knew the jungle of 
ies behind the jeweled screen: they 
were the diamond merchants who had 
traficked all their lives in expensive 
ss; and to me, at that moment, there 
s a certain old-whore bravery about 
them because of all the squalid secrets 
they kept. They were like aging Tam- 
y ward heclers. Their world w: 
over. The asif on which their lives 
been constructed had about as much rele- 
хапсе as the snout of an Edsel, and yet 
they “showed the flag.” 


27 they came. There 
was the sadness of Jong-unexamined com- 


as if on cuc. 


stood chic, 


es, who wi 


promise about them, of a cynicism that 
had become sentimental, of the dinosaur's 
bewildered roamings in the first icy 
twilights that foretold his doom. 
Then 1 noticed that Martha Scott was 
king to the man right next to mc. 
Unrecognized in that crowd of TV ad- 


dicts, she seemed as at case as the hostess 
of a successful dinner party once the 
brandy has been poured. 1 stared into 
her lovely, animated eyes—the peculiar 
vulnerability and poignance that had 
made her performance in Our Town so 
memorable 30 years ago still there, elu 
sively matured—and all at once she 
looked at me, at the expression of recog 
nition that must have melted my public 

face, and seemed a little flustered, 1 
smiled. and nodded, and said, “11% so 
nice to see you again," cocking her head. 
a little, and faking it, as if saying to 
herself, “Martha, you're forgetting. Now, 
who is he?" For an instant, the peculiar 
false intimacy that shared fantasies en- 
courage held us together, as if we were 
20-years-ago lovers who had forgotten 
each others names. I smiled and she 
smiled back, and neither of us knew 
how to acknowledge, much less explain, 
the flash of counterfeit sympathy tl 
scemed to flow between us. 

“It's good to see you, loo,” I said. 
‘You look marvelous.” Her smile was as 
modest and pleased as the sinile of the 
girl in Our Town, and then she was 
swept away by the press of people trying 
to get closer to Fernando Lamas and 
Esther Williams. 

Ricardo Montal 
lobby cracked with fi 
was the gathering tension of boredom in 
the crowd—more, morc! They wanted 
to touch the hem of glamor and, havi 
touched it, they wanted to touch its 
sleeve and, having touched that. they 
wanted—whar? Anthony Quinn! But 
having touched him, they wanted him to 
write down his name on their postcards 
and souvenir programs as proof that 
they had actually been close enough to 
sce through the image to a homelier 
reality: "Oh. yes, Mabel, Tony's only 
five-ten, but he’ r қау... Sure, 
we talked for а minute, and he’s not so 
special, really.” I stood there and realized 
that it was precisely as if these people 
һай read Nathanael West and were will- 
ingly, even gleefully, playing characters 

out of The Day of the Locust, and that I 
wasn't really so different from them—my 
Martha Scott for their Anthony Quinn 

What was it in American life that had 
starved us so grotesquely? 1 had met 
enough movie actors to know that most 
of them were sad and mixed-up Orphan 

Annies trapped in the bodies of The 
Dragon Lady or Smilin’ Jack. Was it the 
film medium itself that е them such 
a compelling power over our imagir 
tions? Was fantasy the only refuge for a 
people without a sustaining past? Or 
had ihe fragmentation of modera cities, 
the process of Los Angelization, aroused 
some last vestige of hunger for a life 
псе, wonder, mean- 
wer that could be assuaged 


а тери 


of proportion, coher 


ing? A hi 


P 


у), 
д \— с 
A 


PLAYBOY 


210 


these days only in the pathetic make- 
believe of the most vicarious of dreams? 
Anthony Quinn smiled the empty 
smile of a man named George who has 
been caught in a conversation in which 
he is repeatedly addressed as Bill, and 
the lobby lights flicked off and on to 
announce the curtain, Suddenly, I didn't. 
nt to see a play; I didn't want to see 
Lincoln wied for his sins of omission; I 
was sick of the lust to expiate ourselves 
by judging others that had made us 
strangers to one another—Manson to 
Tate, Calley to the villagers of My Lai 
ad all of us to all of them. I craved the 
luxury of my own thoughts and left my 
ticket, unclaimed, at the box oflice, and 
walked. back to the On a s 
unengraved star in the sidewalk on Vine. 
Sweet, onc Duane Broder had written h 
name with a marker pen. Pm here, it's 
те, I exist! The gesture seemed so em- 
blematic of Southem California—the 
Southern California now proliferating 
the American heart—that I wrote the 
name down in my notebook. Duane Bro- 
der, a self proclaimed celebrity in Holly- 
wood, and Richard Nixon, from nearby 
Whittier, the President of the republi 


The wip was over, but 1 had no sense 
of completion, and as | drove down 
Hollywood Boulevard toward my motel, 
1 succumbed one list time to the urge 
to get up into the hills, to search out a 
taller building, to take to a helicopter, 
anything to get above the city—th 


Prae (ces 


testified to how L.A. frustrated the 
visitor's eye by its smog-blurred, amor 
phous distances. ] took a turn into Lau 


rel Canyon and on a whim veered onto 
the white curve of concrete that ascend: 
ed into a new and expensive housing 
development, 
that 


led Mount Olympus, 
had been carved out of a small 
ain on the righthand side of the 
ght-foot cypresses and spectral 
Grecian fountains appeared fleetingly in 
the swerve of my headlights as 1 climbed 
Venus Drive past scores of empty. lev. 
ded lots on which, overnight, those 
pleasure gardens chat money сап always 
buy in Southern California would mirac- 
ulously blossom. 

I pulled onto the highest lot of all, 
drove to the very edge. killed the head- 
lights and got out. As yet, there was 
nothing there but. the soft, parched dirt 
under my shoes, and a few clumps of 
chaparral, and the distant plash of a 
fountain playing on and on through the 
night with no one but me to hear. Yet 
just across the narrow canyon, the oppo- 
site hill was verdant, mysterious, dark, 
k with life, peopled, and down 
spread out before me in vivid 
of red, yellow and blue light. the 
thousand glittering boulevards of Los 
Angeles stretched away toward some lost 
t of convergence on the horizon. 
The sight was awesome, appalling and 
spectacularly beautiful. A city that had 
engulfed every square mile that could be 


А 


“After all these years, Mother, you could have 
found a better way to tell us apart.” 


of a million blazing lights. An underwa- 
r city laved in phosphorus. An endles: 
city. Perhaps the last. 

The ghosts of the five-year-old boy 
and the 16-year-old youth stirred in me 
. The heavy, swectish odor of night- 
ne orange groves was long gone now, 
and these days the splendid white 
beaches were fouled with gobbets of oil 
and the carcasses of poisoned grebes. ОН 
those sparkling boulevards, violence and 
despair ripped the silken darkness with 
the angry scream of police sirens. And 
yet those ghosts longed to contain Los 
ngeles enough to justify their stubborn 
fondness for it —its energy, its gaucher 
its honied nights and salad dawns, its 
very size that was commensurate with 
something untrammeled in the enor- 
mous continent itsell—just as the 44- 
year-old man longed to love aga 
парс, bedeviled, violent and 
ion that stretched back 3000 miles 
from here, balllingly, under the unjudg 
ng night. 

For wl had built this most Ameri 
can of cities was nothing less than the 
unfettered and impatient national. gen- 
ius that often scemed to be foundering 
in bitterness and confusion back 
and L. A. might аши out to be the la 
place where Americans had taken a 
stand and created a mirror image of 
their peculiarly complex souls. It was all 
our dreams—the meanest and the most 
audacious—made astoundingly visible. 

Suddenly, I realized that I was loath 
to leave it. and that the reason for this 
was that it had maddeningly eluded me, 
and that it had bec since I had 
experienced the frontier інде that once 
had amounted to a national wait: 
What's over the next ridge? What's it 
like there? After all. weren't the habits 
of limitlessness and horizon chasing, in 
themselves, our oldest tradition, our 
uniquely sustaining рам? What else 

d have gotten us through the Ne- 
a grass and Colorado snows and 
desert alkali to build this final city on. 
the margin of the last occan? 

І remembered a friend of mine, a 
director from New York, who had phoned 
e in Connecticut опе night from Bev- 
erly Hills, after spending six fruitless 
months here, to say, "Listen, everything 
you've ever heard about L. A.—good and 
bad, pro and con, everything—it’s all 
true!” 

The fantasystarved crowds at the 
theater, the reality-numbed girls on 
their way to Hermosa Beach, Ventu 
Boulevard, the canyons, Manson and 
Calley: All this was a reflection of the 
madness we had made. But wasn't it just 
possible that we could assume the human 
responsibilities of our own audacity? 
Something—perhaps a waft of farol 
Pacific salts in the warm night air— 
whispered: "Why not? 


PLAYBOY FORUM 


rLAYnOY's Offices are invaded by some- 
onc intent on robbery or burglary, you 
should. either call a hippie or cat your 
words. 

M. Kirk 

Los Angeles, California 


In the February Playboy Forum, you 
published. a leuer critical of police offi- 
cers who went to the aid of a person 


victimized by a crime and. subsequently 
arrested the victim herself for violation 
of drug laws. Your flippant comment 
was that the bumpersticker slogan 1 
YOU DON'T LIKE COPS, NEXT TIME YOU'RE 
IN TROUBLE CALL A шерік might not be 
such a bad idea. In the same issue, 
other letter. points out that John and 


Connie Eye were іп fact guilty of a 
though they might deserve 
sympathy for receiving 20- to 40-year 
sentences, and your response merely 
compares the persecution of. marijuana 
users to the pagan Roman persecution 
of Christians. 

It seems to me that your attitude іп 


indicates that 


even 


crime, 


these editorial replies 
PLAYBOY is 

change certain laws by legal means to 
applauding when the laws are flouted 
and disapproving when they are en- 
forced. One doesn't have to be a Spiro 


Agnew or a George Wallace to believe 


moving from wanting to 


(continued from page 72) 


that the survival of our whole civ 
tion depends on law. And for laws in 
America to function without this coun 
try being turned into a police state, it is 
necessary that people voluntarily respect 
and obey them. Any influence that un- 
dermines this vitally needed attitude is 
likely to bring on either totalitarianism 
or anarchy. Therefore, I put it to you 
bluntly: Does pLaysoy that 
people violate laws? 
Тһота Carroll 
New York, New York 
And we will answer just as bluntly: 
No. But the question is not as simple as 
you've stated il. There are a number of 
laws on the books deserving of nobody's 
respect. In this category we'd include laws 


advocate 


implementing racial, religious, political 
or sexual discrimination; those governing 
the private sexual behavior of consent- 
ing adults; those restricting the avail- 
ability of birth control and abortion; 
those abrogating freedom of expression 
and the press; those that invoke penal- 
ties for individual indulgence іп prosti- 
tution, gambling, pornography, alcohol, 
psychedelic drugs or narcotics; and the 
other laws that contradict the ideals of 
the founders of the U.S. and the spirit 
of the Constitution. The only sensible 
reason for not breaking such laws is that 
when they are enforced, people get into 


trouble. We don't advocate rebellion and 
we don't suggest that people break these 
laws, but we often sympathize with those 
who do. Furthermore, while police, dis- 
trict attorneys and judges are required 
to implement regulations as they stand, 
there is great latitude available for indi- 
vidual discretion, common sense and 
judgment about priorities їп enforce- 
ment. Therefore, we feel it is legitimate 
to criticize policemen who pursue the 


marijuana smoker while the burglar or 
rapist remains at large or the judge who 
hands out ten-year sentences for sodomy 
and five-year sentences for manslaughter 
The soundest response lo bad laws is to 
seck lo change thera through legal chan- 
nels and this is the kind of action we 
advocate, If ail laws were socially bene- 
ficial аза all oficic 
about ebeying the law (including the 
United States Cossitulion) as the aver- 
age citizen is expected to be, disrespect 
for the iaw in thas cuna would not be a 
problem, Г} you've concerned about seeing 
the lows upheid, the best course of action 
is to work to improve them so that they 
deserve to be upheld. 


vere as scrupulous 


POT INITIATIVE BLOSSOMS 

In the December 1971 Playboy Forum, 
you published a letter explaining that 
BLOSSOM (Basic Liberation of Smok: 
ers and Sympathizers of Marijuana) was 
in the process of putting ап initiative 


Did you Frisbee today? 


If it's not by Wham-o, it's not a Frisbee 


Fora 23"x 35" poster o! this ad, send $1.00 to: Poster, РО. Box FS-4, San Gabriel, Calif. 91778 
Frisbee is a registered trademark of Wham-o Mig. Co. 
for toy flying saucers lor toss games 


21 


PLAYBOY 


5 


campaign together to legalize mi 
On January 20th, we filed Initia 
264 with the se 
in Olympia, V 


juana. 


ry of state's office 
hington. Before you 


are eager to sec pot legalized so that they 


c cm make a fortune olf all us poor 
hippies. 
It definitely looks as if w I have 


receive this lener, Ше first s of the marijuana issue on the ballot in 
our petition will be dis for Washington State in November of this 
signatures. year. Whether the measure passes or 

There are three points covered in the — fails depends оп how many people be- 


alive: 


adatory paroles 
(release) for all convicted marij 
offenders presently serving sentences. 
(3) Making the advertisement or com- 


cialization of 
lemcanor. 
There are two 
point: First of 
that we 
the use of 


uriju 


want to see the 
[ 
іш 


arge capi 
ms enter the scene as soon as 
is legal and ri 


() Removal of all state 
ties for possession, use and transfer 


marijuana а gross 


sons behind the third 
I, the public must know 
nor attempting to. promote 
na; we simply want 
the people who want to use it to be able 
to do so in safety. Secondly, we do not 
alist corpo 


off huge profits. 
Rumor has it that the tobacco companies 


come involved with our effort. Time is 
ripe for a change. 
S. Thomsen Abbott 
Stephen М. Wilcox 
Debbie Yarbrough 
Cochairmen, BLOSSOM 


Olympia, Washington 


MINISTER ON MARLIUANA 

As a minister, I believe strongly that a 
person should take care of his body and 
guard his health, But as an American 
Citizen, J support our Constitution, 
which makes а man's personal life and 
habits his own business and not the 
Governments. Therefore, 1 would op- 
pose a law making the sale and posses- 
sion of liquor illegal. Similarly, 1 believe 


“How is il, Ned, that we never get invited 


10 pari 


ies like that?” 


the laws prohibiting the sale and poses 
sion of m: should be repealed. 
The pre a kaws make a 
mockery of our leg m and having 
them on the statute books reduces the 
worthwhile 
Bill Nichols, M 
Richardson U: 
Richardson, Texas 


aw 


CINCINNATI CENSORSHIP 

In a highly publicized 
against pornography in Cinc 
bookstore employees were arrested 
warehouse raided on ord 
the county prosecutor. Cinci 


from 
ati is the 
home town of that self-appointed protec 


tor of our minds and morals Charles М. 
Keating, Jr, founder of Citizens for De 
cent Literature. The Cincinnati Enquirer 
quoted him as saying, “H's always bee 
my opinion that police action agains 
the criminals who sell obscenity is uw. 
most effective cure for this social evil. 
"Therefore, the action ol the county prose 
сог is extremely encouragi 
Keating was also represented at а 
ing confirm 
vichouse, Cine 
ings place nor anyone else 
to el people they can't go to see a blue 
adult bookstore. 
ld T. Jones 
inati, Ohio 


KEATING'S GREETING 
A friend received a copy of the form 
letter being circulated by Charles H. 
Keating, Jr. (The Playboy Forum, Jan 
ary). Since my friend knows of my ii 
terest іп matters involving censorship, 
to say nothing of my longtime hobby ot 
collecting color slides and movies fea- 
g beautiful girls from all over the 
world, he promptly gave the Keating 
letter to me. 

I was struck by Keating's honesty. Не 
writes that he spent "some 600 hours 
а усаг on antipormography activities, 
which, I presume, include studying por- 
nography and thinking about it. He also 
writes: "les been proved again and 
in that when children or adults arc 
exposed to a steady diet of pornography, 
they are seriously influenced by it.” This 
should help us understand why Ke: 
would ask pravmov and other w 
ested people 10 contribute to his organi- 
zi The man obviously spends too 
much time dreaming about. pornography 

Lawrente Т Корр 
State Board of Directors 
Liberties Un 


Shortly after I read in the Playboy 


Forum abou, the form letter 
iled out all over the county by 
Charles H. Keating, Jr, 1 received a 


пе missiv 
emeni of Ke 

Y day 
check and 


сору of the self 


The ор 
ing's leuei 
friend of mine sent 
sked that D use ра 


contribution to write to you about a 
problem in Scranton —is really a joke. 
І am sure that по one I know would 
conuibute to Citizens for Decent Litera 
ture, let alone ask CDL to use part of 
the contribution to write to me. 

It’s also репу funny to r 
tence like this: "Did you 


d a sen- 
know that 


Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Harrisburg 
аге 
mu 


ud other Pennsylvania cities ther 
theaters that show movies of mer 
women having sexual intercourse?” K 
g supposedly a grown man, writes like 
a preadolescent who has just found ош 
about sex and is snickering about it with 
his fourth-grade friends. 

Something that gripes ше is the 
that Keating to pay only one cent 
for U.S. postage on a parcel of mail that, 
with all the endosures, I'm sure weighs 
over one ounce, Why should citizens 
have to pay today's high postal rates to 
send important letters when K 
flowed to mail, for one cent, а piece of 
junk like this? 


Stanley Rock 
Scranton, Pennsylvania 


BURN BEFORE READING 

"The opening sentence of Gerald L. К. 
Smith's editorial, as reported in the Iet- 
ter from Kenneth Arta (The Playboy 
Forum, February) is fascinating: “I 
have never opened a copy of PLAYBOY 
magazine.” Whereupon, he describes 
as “evil, pornographic and negative in 


all its aspects" How the hell docs he 
know? 
His remark is typical of would-be cen- 


sors who have a bit of. condemnii 
before they read. Shortly after World 
War Two. Philadelphia undertook 
campaign io "clean up the bookshelve: 
an effort that eventually became so ridic 
ubus that a number of publishers 
brought suit against the city. Houghton 
Mifllin's suit over the repression of Rain- 
tree County was the only one that 
actually got to trial, because the publish- 
er won so handily thar censorship 
movement collapsed. and it became un- 
necessary for the publishers to 
press their suits. 

At the trial, it developed that the city 
fathers had designated the head of the 
vice squad as sole arbiter of what read- 


other 


terial was safe for the citizens of 
the City of Brotherly Love. Under ques 
jg, the censor admitted that he had 


of the 400 books he had 


1 опу thn 


ned. And he had not even acted 
upon the advice of any formally or 
ganized board of review that had read 


the books. 
һ 
the recommend 
ble" citizens who « 
to define a responsible citizen, he said 
he included in that category minis- 
ters and priests, members of P. T 

groups, spokesmen for civic and frate 
mal organizations amd other “people ol 


Asked how hooks got on his 
ned list, he t 


In short, 
not either 


that sort. 
who was 
mental 
I have neve ed a copy of Smith's 
е. The Cross and the Flag. 1 
lutely no opinion of it. 
Richard Deming 
Ventura, California 
Deming is the author of more than 60 
books, both fiction and nonfiction. 


magaz 
have abs 


PUBIC HAIR IN PLAYBOY 

I read with interest the letter from 
the man who feels that Pıaynoy may 
no longer be suitable for collec-table 
display (The Playboy Forum, February). 
I have long objected to rAYmoY be- 
cause it failed to display what certainly 
wists—e, pubic hair. I am now, how- 
pleased tha 


eve 5 you ате photographing 
your models more realistically. 

mes V. Waltman 
Genoa, Colorado 


People have some pretty strange ideas 
about the human body. One reader, 
Tor example, worries about displaying 
FLAYBOY on his coffee table now that 
youve stopped hiding pubic ha 
Breasts and buttocks аге ОК. apparent- 
ly, but not pubes, though the latter are 
no more unnatural than the former, and 
we all know they re there. 

ОГ course, some people are even оГ. 
fended by the female breast displayed in 
the most natural circumstances. А col- 
league of mine saw а young couple enter 
a restaurant with an infant. The wom- 
an, upon seating herself, exposed her 


breast and began nursing the baby 
Meanwhile, nearby, a typical American 
man sittin: family noted this 


occurrence. The man slanuned his coffee 


cup on the table. anked children 
out of their chairs and stomped out of 
the place with them and his wife 

¢ be unusual to nurse 


urant, but it docs seem 
г childish for the other couple to 
been so ollended. 1 suppose it’s just 
ple of something perfectly 
natural being turned into something с 
by a person with a foul mind 

Kristi Richter 
Chicago, Ilinois 


STABILIZING POPULATION 

Norman I. Cow (The Playboy 
Forum, February) pins most of the 
blame for pollution on the superbreed- 
ers and lifts it from the superconsum- 
ers. He's correct. of course, in asserting 
overpopulation is or soon will be a 
ious problem. but he misleads in two 


ways 
First, ecological disturbance is not an 
either/or question, but a many-faceted 
опе. Industrial pollution, heavy consum 
crism, resource depletion and waste all 
contribute to the destruction of this 
planet along with overpopulation: 
Second, Cowan says that “Two children 


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PLAYBOY 


214 


per family would result in a stable 
population." That is truc enough, but 
stabilization wouldn't be attained until 
the year 2040, at which time the world's 
population would be 15 billion. Today 
e feeling the effects of overpopula- 
tion with 3.6 billion people. In other 
words, sta based on a two-child 
maximum м iply the world's 
population by five times in just 70 years. 
Clearly. unless large numbers of people 
elect to have one child or no children at 
all, zero population growth will not be 
realized in time to save the biosphere. 
Shirley L. Radi, Executive Director 


STOPPING AT TWO 

There's a widespread 
people interested in у planning 
nd also in limiting the number of th 


“Soliciting, my as 


children to two. Are thee two concepts 
compatible? Are they equally desirable? 
Some couples don't want any children; 
this should allow couples who do want 
Kids to have more than two children. 
Unwanted children should not be Бот, 
but couples who would enjoy а large 
family should not be discouraged. from 
caring for more than the ma 
two. 

105 a commonplace of moder 


number 


g our indi n a mass socie- 
nly this danger is increased by 
pressuring all families to conform to the 
same size, Two parents and two chil- 
dren, an economicconsume 
ed by 


taxation 
Housing units are co 
fit four, familysi 
designed to feed four, compact cars are 


! Setting up sexual encounters 
and eliciting responses [rom anonymous participants is 


my form о] conceptual art.” 


built to carry four, tax structures fit 
four. welfare rules fit four. 

Let's do everything possible to help 
prevent the birth of unwanted, unloved. 
unplanned children, but lct us not 
frown on large, happy fami 

Greg Monk 
, Califor 


asalin 


BIRTH-CONTROL BOOKLET 

Planned renthood of New York 
City's Family Planning Resources Center 
has just published a booklet covering all 
aspects of birth. control. “Birth Control 
АП the Methods That Work and the 
Ones That Don't" presents the basic [acts 
about reproduction, the latest inform: 
tion on birth-control methods that work, 
sometimes work and never wor 
tion and voluntary sterilization. Single 
copies of the booklet are available free 
Planned Parenthood of New York 
у, 300 Park Avenue South, New Yor 
New York 10010. Extensively reviewed 
ling gynecologists and family- 
experts throughout the coun- 
to read, clearly 
ned, and suitable 
idicncc—imen, wom- 
all walks of life. 
phe: 


el and 
ally ev 


Tor virt 


nned Parenthood of 
New York City, Inc. 
ew Yor w York 


POPULATION AND INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS 
Compulsory Birth Control for All 
mericans, Inc. of which I am presi- 
dent, believes there is a social need to 
restrict by law the number of children 
American parents may have, because of 
the threat to the quality of human Ше 
posed by unchecked population growth. 

A nation of 207,000,000 people, with 
diversity its most obvious characterist 


ior in the for 
We Americans 
speaking our n 


things, but we reco} 


n 
fond of 


are 
g our own 
п the rheto- 


s we please, To live 
demands resvictions on indi 
itive. Furthermore, no large 
ial problem ever has been 
solved by purely voluntary action. 
Currently, а small decline in our fer- 
tility rate has led many observers to 
conclude mistakenly that voluntarism 
docs work and 1 
our popula 
uation 


as or soon will stabilize. 


the cco- 
mproves and the faddish 
concern about overpopulation subsides, 
the birth rate will undoubtedly turn up- 
ward again. Even if it doesn’t, the pres- 
ent rate guarantees that population. will 
continue to grow 

I don't advocate compulsion casily. 1 


ion. Nevertheless, 


live in а small town and teach in а small 
college preci sc 1 cannot abide 
the seemingly exponential expansion of 


inevitably accompany 


issue 


population increase. However, thi 
is no longer whether or not compulsion 
is attractive, but whether or not it is 
imperative. Those concerned with pro 
tecting essential human rights should 
realize that the so-called right to unlim- 
ied. parenthood is а false and probably 
fatal freedom, the continued. exercise of 
which could render all human questions 
merely academ 


Edgar R. Chaste 
Liberty, Missou 


, Ph.D. 


endorsed an attractive. con- 
cept of population control when you 
cd. “In a well-informed society i 
hich contraception bortion were 
available ло all. individual initiative 
could be trusted to take care of the 
population problem" (The Playboy Fo- 
rum, December 1971). Your statement 


PLAYBOY 


nd 


st government interference with 
ividual freedom іп this arca is well 
intentioned and reasonable, bur, I'm 


1, unrealistic. 


The f 


despite widespread 
ability of effective contracept 
and the ease of оша! 
the United 
individual initiative to prevent the birth 
of a child has ever resulted, here or else- 
where, in controlled. population. growth. 
‘True, these factors succeeded in 
still greatly 
th rate, so the population 
continues to increase. Just one of the 
many problems is that parents simply 
want too many children. 

To espouse individual rights in the 
matter of reproduction, which айсаз us 
collectively, while decrying a burgeon 
ng. consuming, polluting populatio 
a form of schizophrenic denial | 
to procrastination mceting an 
that could be fatal. 
no lor 


have 


lowering the birth rate. but i 
exceeds the d 


issu 
Tam afraid we can 
er have it both ways. 

n J. Cameron. M. D 

trsity of Kansas Medical Center 
Kansas City, Kansas 


Plans that involve individual [rcedom 
and education of the populace frequent- 
ly strike their opponents as ulopian. H's 
always easier, it seems, to have the gov- 
emment decide what's right for society 
and to provide it. We don't deny that a 
“well-informed” society is something of a 
dieam, but so is democracy, an experi- 
ment that’s been way on this 
continent (not always successfully) for 
almost 200 years. Since we believe that 
опе will not work without the other, 
think the struggle for both is worth con- 
tinuing, whether ov not the goal seems 
realistic 

Meanwhile, we have not сәсп begun to 
scratch the surface of educating the popu- 
lace—particularly the poor of all ages 
and the young of all classes—to construc- 
tive attitudes in sex and reproduction. 
Many people in this society believe that 
intercourse ought 10 be mysterious and 


under 


we 


spontaneous and not involve contvacep- 
tive preparation, that having children is 
proof of masculinity, that childbearing is 
the ultimate fulfillment for women, that 
abortion is murder or that birth control 
should be kept from Ше unmarried. 
None of these attitudes would charac- 
terize a well-informed public. Further- 
more, contraception is not azailable to all 
who need it; Congress is only now voting 
on funds that will help provide some 
family-planning materials and counseling 
for the estimated 5,000,000. poor women 
who need [ree assistance. As [or abortion, 
though the movement to legitimize it has 
made progress, the laws in most states arc 
still very restrictive, and it is difficult if 
not impossible to obtain safe, legal abor- 
lions in many parts of the country. 

What this shows is a need for 
nol more, government interference with 
people's sexual and reproductive activi- 
lies. If state and Federal lawmakers 
would provide information and aid to 
all and would repeal restrictive law. 
the possibility of a well-informed people 
exercising individual initiative to stabi- 
lize the population less 
unrealistic. 

Of course, the backwardness of legis- 
lators creates a disturbing dilemma, The 
longer that laws hampering the free 
dissemination of information on sex, 


less, 


would seem 


contraception and abortion slay on the 
books, the longer it’s likely to take to 
bring population growth under some 
kind of control. And the worse the popu- 
lation squeeze gets, the more probable it 
seems that the government will be forced 
10 take an opposite—though equally 
antifreedom—stand by imposing, rather 
than suppressing, contraceptive practices. 
Those who value personal freedom, there- 
Jore, should campaign against restrictive 
sex laws as well as for making contracep- 
tives and birth-control information avail- 
able to all who want them 

In short, we think calling Jor govern- 
ment intervention іп population control 
is premature al best; our society hasn't 
yet reached the point where concern 
about overpopulation is inconsistent with 
а dedication to individual rights. With 
timely action, we may keep it from ever 
reaching that point. 

“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. 


"That's amazing! Have you any idea of 
what the mathematical odds must be against two persons 


car 


ing bombs on the same aircrafi?” 


pu 


PLAYBOY 


ОЙ Б ыо, 


of being responsible and compassionate. 

То keep the Zen monks company, 1 
light а stick of incense, sit down on the 
tatami mat and begin the ink-and-brush 
meditation. Some people have passions 
lor ancient weapons, c 
elhigies of owls: mine i; езе 
and writing brushes. I can't stay а 
from Kyukvodo on Teramachi, where, 
the before, 1 had bought seve 
small slabs of black ink, each in a box 
of plain white wood. interestingly per- 
fumed and embossed with gold idco- 
graphs, and also a large and somewhat 
expensive brush. about three 4 

n inch i 
10 a fine point. But the first step i 
make tea for wakefulness. and lor this 
there is noil ù macha, the 
ne used for cere- 
all amount із 
in the. bottom of a roughly glazed 
covered with hot d 


eggs or 


ает» of 


pu 
bowl, 


water 


ned wood 


P And 
I begin to rub the ink, easily back 
and forth, on a black stone cut like a 
ng pool with a short deep 
shallow end and filled 
with water. It tikes 15 minutes or moie, 
during which there is nothing in my 
consciousness except the increasingly 
oily texture of the liquid, the mountain- 
forest smell of the incense and the con- 
tinuing sound of soft rain on the rool. 
Wide-awake but with hardly a thought in 
my head. I stroke and roll the brush in 
the black liquid, and then, with a certain 
unhurried suddenness, write ten Chi 
nese characters on а long scroll of 
sorbent paper. They say: 


In the spring scenery there is noth- 
ing superior, nothing inferior; 
Flowering branches grow naturally, 

some short, some long. 


That day my wile, Jano. and I go 
down to Sanjusangendo, а long bain of 
a building that contains 1001 images of 
an astonishing hermaphroditic being 
known as Kannon. the Watchful Lord. 
revered popularly as Ше Goddess of 
One th 


Compassion 


with eight ams, lined up 
x platforms that run the entire length 
of an inside wall down the center of the 
building. But at mid-point there is the 
опе extra figure. sitting on a lotus throne 
with Il heads in а tall column and 
exactly 1000 arms forming ап aurcole 


about the figure. Мом of the hands are 
empty, but at least 100 of them hold 
objects—bells, wands, flowers, 


thunderbolts, daggers, conch trumpets, 
rostries, staves, bottles—in- 


struments that this cosmic millepede is 
ting all at once without ha 
to stop to think about any one of them 
in particular. 

Jt is in the same way ıl 
system manages the 
tions of my body, 

ere арр 
yriad patterns 
together i 


my nervous 


ultitudinous func- 
d the energy of the 
in 


ars 


nultancously 

nd forms, all worki 
n ecological b 
unthinkable complexity. For you cannot 
ишу think of one without th 
of the others, just as the carth impl 
the sun and the sun implies the g 
То think of one alone is to have your 
mind caught so that you miss the move- 
ment of the whole, and this is what 
Buddhists mean by ignorance (ignore- 
ic) and consequent attachment to 
worldly things. This means any part 
lar thing, such as myself. considered. as 
separate or separable fom the rest, and 
attachment in thi 
what we now call a hang-up. Spir 
myopia. Not seeing the for 
tress. Killing flies with DDT 
ting about the fish and the birds. Thus, 
in passing judgments of praise and blame 
upon myself. I forget that I am like one 
of Kannon’s hands—a function of the 

niverse. I my conscious mind had 11 
heads and 1000 arms, I might know 
what I was talking about. But my con- 
scious mind is but one small operation 
of my nervous system. 

When the rains stopped, Jano and I 
took a day off for meditation at Nanzen- 
ji. not in the temple itself but on the 
forested hillside behind it, where we sat 
оп the steps of some 
tomb, supplying ourselves with the kit 
for ceremonial tea and a Thermos boule 
of hot sake. Zen medi trickily 

affair, for it consists only in 
ng everything that is happening. 
ng your own thoughts and your 
without comment, After a 
while, thinking, or talking to yourself, 
drops away and you find that there is n 
self other than everything that is going 
on. both inside and outside the skin, 
Your consciousness. your breathing and 
your feelings are all the same process as 
the wind, the trees growing, the insects 
buzzing, the water flowing and the d 
tant praile of the city. All this is a 
single, many-Icatured. happening, 
petal now without either past or fu 

arc 
on of a child dropping 
m. The wick, which 


my 


sense is almost exactly 
ual 


cient nobleman's 


ion is 


simple 
wate 
includi 


and you 


fascin: 


pebbles 
ot 


into a str 
be forced, is to be in this state of con 
sciousness all the time—even when vou 
re filling out tax forms or being angry. 
Experiences move through this conscious- 


can 


ness as tracklessly as the reflections. of 
flying birds on water and, as а Zen poem 


2i 


The bamboo shad 
ep the stairs, 
but raise no dust. 


t the whole 


city is thousands of 
shops and bu its streetcars, 
schools, temples, taxis, crooks, police- 


men. politicians, monks, geisha girls, 
salesmen, firemen, waitresses, fish vendo 
students and bulging sumo wrestlers— 
was no other than the 1000-armed body 
non. And a curious feature of this 
that all details are as clearly 
etched as in a perfectly focused photo- 
graph. Even mist appears as its millions 
of individual droplets of moisture, cach 


state ds 


containing the rellections of all the others 
e of jewels, 1 can 


е the feeling 
self" only in relation to, and by contrast 
with, the feeling "other." In the same way, 
I am what I am only in relation to what 
everything else is. The Japanese call this 
jijimuge, which means that between 
every thing-event and every other thing- 
event there is no barrier. Exch implies all 
ad all imp 
The hour's train ride into the moun- 
ins of Wakayama, south of Osaka, i 
like а journey through one of those Jong 
horizontal landscape scrolls called makt- 
mono, which you roll and unroll as you 
go along. You move through ranges of 
densely forested hills, growing T and 
h d below the forests are 
hundreds of wiggly terraced fields, fol- 
lowing the contours of the slopes and 
y-colored with the various crops of 
rice, millet. radishes, onions and 
beans, Villages. farmhouses and temples 
peck from the folds of the hills, tiled 
and belonging in the land- 
scape as much as the trees, since the old 
nonindustrial cule of Japan. sees the 
work of man of the many 
works of n al of the line is 
Mount Koya. where. at 3000 feet and 
more than 1000 years ago. the monk Kobo 
Daishi established a complex city of tem- 
ples in the midst of the colossal Japanese 


her, 


tea. 


cedar trees known as cryptomei 
Here, the style of Buddhism called 
Shingon and is closely related to the 


ical Buddhism 
his place 1 am more 
fected by the supposedly 
Asian тейді 


highly ritualistic 
of Tibet, so that 
than 
phon 


usness of 


І know perfectly well that most of the 


priests tmough the motions 
and have forgotten the m the 
young seminarists are just dutifully fol- 
lowing their fathers’ tracks and that the 
өтіс «ете of this temple 
city is to be а tourist пар and a mor- 
у. But the point of Shin is “to 
lize Buddha in this body." and as I 
look at the temple әкесіне and the 
imagery and symbolism, 1 get the odd 


raison 


Т 
ШЕ 


“Of course, in life he was allergic to them.” 


PLAYBOY 


feeling that it is at once electronic and 
neurological. The masts on the pagodas 
are topped with a flaming golden ball 
and surrounded with nine metal rings, 
su қ an carly type of transmission 
t for television, and the ever present 
or thunderbolt-scepter of bronze, 
has five daws at each end with points 
barely touching, as if about to generate 
electric sparks, And there are diagrams of 
kshetra, or fields, containing hundreds of 
Buddha figures like some organism with 
massed eyes, or nerve endings. or contact 
points where, again, cach implies all, 
because the body of Buddha means the 
whole universe. 

Thus, "to realize Buddha in this 
body” is to realize that you yourself are, 
in fact, the universe. You are not, as 
parents and teachers are wont to imply, 
a mere stranger on probation in the 
scheme of things; you arc rather a sort 
of nerve ending through which the 


ai. 


verse is taking а peck at itself, which is 
why, deep down inside, almost everyone 
has a vague sense of eternity. Few dare 


dmit this. because it would amount to 
believing that you are God, and God in 
our culture is the cosmic boss, so that 
anyone imagining himself to be God is 


ne. 
But for is no problem, 
because they do not have this particular 


Iso are not trou- 
and everlasting 


idea of God, and so 

bled by the notion of si 
damnation. Their picture of the un 
verse is not political, not a kingdom 
ruled by a monarch, but an organism in 
which every part is a doing of the 
whole, so that evervthing that happens to 
you is understood as your own karma, or 
doing. Thus, when things go wrong, you 
have no one but yourself to blame. You 


are not a sinner but a fool, so пу an- 
other way. 
Now, I % found this a 


highly c humane point of 
view. For Westerners, the only real alter- 
native to the boss-God religion has been 
the so-called scientific view of the uni- 
verse as a system of essentially stupid 
objects. "This comes from looking at 
things in a coldly withdrawn way, as in 
studying the behavior of machinery, and 
in physiology and psychology we turn 
this attitude inward upon ourselves— 
only to become objectionable objects to 
our own gaze. If this mechanical view of 
fe gets rid of horrors 
guile, it also gets rid of 
for sympathy or kindness, From the 
t of mechanical. efficiency, all 
feelings and emotions 1 obstruc- 
tive ча d when we are through 
with poisoning the air, there will be 
every reason for replacing ourselves with 
steady-state electronic. mechanisms that 
require no atmosphere and do nothing 
but solve mathematical problems. The 
objective attitude 10 oneself is finally 


gig suicidal, and it is not, therefore, surpris- 


ing that the grandest flower of our tedi- 
nology is the hydrogen bomb. 

But when Buddhists look very deeply 
into themselves, they ask, "But who 
looking?” They come up with an answer 
that has been hard to understand, es- 
sentially because of а language problem. 
For the Japanese word ku has the sense 
of sky, space or emptiness, but when it is 
used for the root of one’s own conscious 
ness, it m. Iso the finally mysterious 
and inconceivable. Not so much empti 
ness or darkness as the way the head 
looks to its own eyes. This is the meaning 
of the flaming golden ball atop the pa- 
goda mast, which in Zen is said to be 
like an eye that sees but does not sec 
itself.” Ku is therefore clarity, as of v 
ing, and nothing is so myste- 
rity. even though we speak of 
ng up mysteries. For exactly what 
ty itself? Could it be well-defined 
Crystabclear form? Then, as the 
Heart Sutra says, ku is shiki—vanspar- 


ency is form. 

Unburdened by a Christian upbring- 
ng, the poer Gary Snyder has the 
humorous attitude to religion so character- 
istic of Zen. We found him in а Japanese- 
style cottage, dose to the Daitoku-ji 


monastery in Kyoto, where he wits mak 
ing a 12-year study of the Zen way of 
lile. He is like a wiry Chinese sage with 
high cheekbones, twinkling eyes and 
scrawny beard, and the recipe for his 
character requires a mixture of Oregon 
woodsman, seaman. Amerindian shaman, 
Oriemal scholar, San Francisco hippic 
and swinging monk who takes tough 
light heart. He seems 
to be gently keen about almost every 
thing and needs no affectation to make 


disci] 


himself interesting. He has taken to wife 
Маза, а beautiful and gutsy Japanese 
girl from the southern islands, who 


looks you straight in the eye, does not 
simper and giggle and shows no mock 
humility—yer has a quie 
Their living room is adorned with two 
and. colorful scrolls bearing those 
agon diagrams of multitudinous Bud- 
figures and so abounds with Bud. 
hist ceremonial tools that Cary calls it 


naturalness. 


“the safest place in the galaxy.’ 
Alter we have taken communal 
bath in a huge caldron over а wood fire, 


much sake is downed and, apropos of 
. the clear void, Gary suggests that we 


orporate the Null and Void С "y 


nd Trus Company with the slogan 
Register your absence with us; you can 
ke it with you!" Late 


f, I had some 
business cards printed for him to this 
effect, naming him the company's no 
representative. 1 wonder why it is that we 


t мор laughing at the notion that 
nonc of us really exist and that the 
walloping concreteness of all the hard 


ed is 
ness. 
derives from the fact that, 


ıs to be 
се of now 
The jok 


n energetic perform- 


though Westerners speak of conquer- 
ing s prejudice 
and a positive blind spot with respect to 
the importance of nothingness. They balk 
at it as people used to balk 

of the earth as round. То them, nothing. 
the awfulawful, the end, the de- 


ness 

mise th 

to be the ultimate destiny of man 

the universe. Yet this is due to a freaky 

1 our logic that allects our theology, 

псе, our philosophy and our most 
s. 


ng. How can you 
thout understanding isn't? Try to im- 
agine a solid without any space throu 
Ty to 
out any solid, including yourself, w 
it. For if something implies nothing, 
nor mp 


then 
something 
To be or not to be is not the question 


ike electricity. is а pulsa 
е energy. The 
se is sup 
they say in 


for reality. 
ol positive and nej 
bang with which this univ 
posed to have started was, a 
Zen, "the void gnashing its teeth.” Put 
in more scientific jargon: Every ap- 
proach to the limit of absolute inertia 
condenses by inversion into a departure 
from the limit of absolute energy. Flip 
—total void equals big bang. 

Stated in bare words, this looks too 
simple. Yet I regard it as my most im 
portant philosophical discovery, and il 
we could understand it thoroughly, we 
would no longer have the horrors about 
death, darkness, night, silence and the 
unknown—and. as а side ей, wome 
would be free of qualms about 
seeing themselves as representatives. of 
the negative principle. This is. 1 think. 
what makes the difference іп Masa, for 
she follows the Zen discipline along with 
Gary. When she stoops to conquer, the 
male confers victory upon her with pleas 
ure. But the т s how 
to get one’s feelings, those 
of habit, to recognize that it takes noth. 
ing to start something. 

On the far west side of Kyoto is the 
village of Nagaoka. Here, some years 
ago, there was established a Zen school, 
not for regular monks but for collegi 
students, so that they might combine 
Zen practice with their academic courses. 
Though the ıe relatively 
new, the damp с 
rapid growth of moss, of 
antiquity forms quickly. These build- 
ings, and their garden. ave in the most 
exquisite Zen taste—uncluttered but not 
bare, white but not garish, brown but 
not drab, (The wooden p. floors, 
though stained, show all the grain and 
have been polished with long stitheri 
of stockinged feet.) Gary, Jano and 1 
are 1 by Morimotosan, the roli 
(master). student 
isen-san, in a spacious room where that 
adjective does not mean simply | 


the 


mining question 


asy victims 


pan fosters 


receiv 


and his successor 


` You can take aWhite Horse anywhere | 


PLAYBOY 


or adequate. It is a room so designed 
that its empty spaces are a positive fea- 
ture of its beauty: The shoji windows 
and sliding wall screens are not mere 
background but, by their proportions 
and playing with light, are what is 
there to be seen. 

Morimoto is so ancient and frail as to 
seem transparent, whereas Gisen—with 
his rich black hair rounded, sen- 
suous features—looks more Latin than 
Japanese. though he serves us ceremoni 
al tea and then sake and then dinner 
with such perfection of refined Zen style 
—of slow and relaxed formality—that I 
find myself deposited, drea i 
some sort of Buddhist heaven designed 
Бу Sesshu and Rikyu. Meanwhile, Gary 
interprets my conversation with Mori- 
moto so expertly that І hardly remem- 
ber him as an intermediary. There is 
some preliminary talk about the pos- 
sibilities of intelligent action without 
thinking—as when Kannon uses 1000 
arms. In Zen this is called munen (no 
thought), and 1 would describe it as 
using the brain rather than the con- 
scious mind with its lincar limitations. 
Someone suggests that this is like the 
skill of Japanese carpenters, who can 
make astonishing constructions measur- 
g by eye alone, without yardsticks о 
ts. So I ask, “But what about the 
blueprint without. us 
pring” My point is, 
of course, that conscious thinking is one 
of the 1000 arms. We don't think be- 
fore we think, and we don't know how we 
think; we just do it. That is the Zen of 
thinking. Morimoto makes no immed 
ate comment but goes after my question 
bout way. 

For what 1 am really asking is wheth- 
er there is а conflict between Zen medi- 
tation and the intellectual life, since his 
school was attempting to provide both 
But can one be in the state of munen 
е reading? He replies that, for col- 
lege students, he goes about teaching 
in a new way. "Instead. of asking 
them to meditate on the sound of one 
hand, I ask them what is the first word 
in the dictionary.” And, of course, there 
isn't onc: Since every word requires 
other words to define it, the dicti 
is circular. 1 remember trying 
boy, to write down the pronunc 
the letters of the alphabet. This is ob- 
viously impossible for just the same 
son that words and ideas can never lead 
Yet although you can't 
а bath in the word water, the word itself 
is an суеш in the real world—not wet 
but noisy. 

“Any book will do for stud: 
Morimoto goes on. “You 
dictionary or Alice in 
even the Bible. 
going to all the trouble to n 


and 


ing a previous blu 


g Zen, 
use 
Wonderland— 


can the 


"There's no re: 


our old Chinese texts about Zen—not 
if you're serious about understanding 
l Zen. The sound of r: needs no 


Though the conversation went on for 
some time, that remark—as we now say 
—blew my mind. At the end of the 
evening, Gisen produced a nyoi, а Zen- 
master's ritual scepter, this one made of 
smooth dark wood 
buuerlly's proboscis, and presented it to 
me with the remark, "This for Western 
Zenmaster! 

The following morning, Gary and 1 
arise at dawn and go to the Daitokuji 
monastery for the teisho, or form: 
ture, to be given by Sesso Oda, th 
presiding roshi. It is announced by 
mendous drumming, а monk 
stick on a large upright wooden drum 
with its skin secured by big upholsterer’s 
nails. He pounds it to the rhythm of a 
bouncing ball, with variations, crescen- 
dos and decrescendos, and someri 
circulates the stick across the heads of 
the nails to make a sound like а speed- 
boat. We assemble in the great rectangu- 
lar hall and sit on the mats, monks on 
one side, guests on the other, and every- 
one is given a copy of the textbook for 
the lectu hinese text about the 
teachings of а Tangdlynasty master. 
Knowing that I had studied this work, 
finds the place for me, and then 


—a 


the rashi enters, wearing scarlet and 
gold brocade robes, dangling а rosary 
from his writ and holding a white 


horsetail fly whisk. He solemnly mounts 
a th g the Buddha image 
ross the hall, for these lectures are 
actually to be understood as conversa- 
tions between the master and the Bud- 
dha. At the sound of a gong, the head 
monk imones, “Ma-ka-hannya-ha-ra-mi- 
ta-shin-gyo,” and to the heavy pulse of 
а wooden drum, everyone chants the 
Heart Sutra. 

This done, the roshi begins to speak 
in a low voice and the monks to doze off 
into sleep. There is 10 this. for 
they must remain sitting upright as if 
meditation, and the head monk must 
perform the trick of waking up exactly 
two minutes before the lecture ends, so 
as to ring the bell. This is sleeping Zen. 
About halfway through the lecture, rain 


one 


ar 


be; to fall in torrents and the pelting 
on the roof drowns all other sounds 
for least five mi 


s. But the roshi 
doesn't stop. He doesn't raise his voi 
He goes straight on with his ir 
lecture. The story is told of 
m 


another 
ster Who, years before, had been about 
to begin the lecture when a bird started 


ig. When it stopped. he announced 
t the lecture had been given. 

. I was talking to Ali 
yer, who is 


ular personal admiration for him, for he 
at once holy and sensuous, a complete 
man. Wine and women go with his song. 
a song of unsurpassed technique that 
he also uses as a type of yoga meditation 
in which—if one can use temporal lan- 
guage about things cternal—he is very 
advanced. Discussing this, he dropped 
the remark, “АП mu in the under- 
standing of one note. 

Now, this really ought not to be ex- 
plained. Simply listen to the rain. Listen 
to what Buddhists call its suchness—its 
tathata, or dad Like all classical 
music. it means nothing except itself, for 
other sounds 
or is about anything other than. music. 
There is no message in а Bach fugue. So, 
too, when an ancient Zenmaster was 
asked about the meaning of Buddhism, 
he replied, “H there is any meaning in it, 
I myself am not liberated.” For when 
you have really heard the sound of т; 
you can hear, and see and feel, ev 
thing else in the same way—as need 


no translation, as being just that which 


it is, though it may be impossible to say 
what. I have tried for years, as a philoso- 
pher, but in words it comes out all 
wrong—in black and white with no col- 
or. It comes out that lile is a perfectly 
md absolutely meaningless happening— 
nothing but a display of endlessly vari 
gated vibrations, neither good nor cvil, 
ight nor wrong—a display, though n 
velously woven together, like a Rorschach 
blot upon which we are projecting the 
ity, purpose, histor 
Jaw. science. evolution and even 
i СІ 1O SUV 
is. in turn, р 


jection 
Thus, when you try to pin it down, you 


get the banal 
» the un 
n idiot, full of sound 
ing nothi 
But this sense of "turning to ashes in 
one's mouth” is the result of trying to 
grasp something that can come to you 
only of itself. Trying to catch the mean- 
ing of the universe in terms of some 
religious, philosophical or moral system 
Шу like asking Bach or Ali Akbar 

in their music in words. They 
a it only by continuing to 

y you must listen until you 
understand, get with it and go with it 
and the same is true of the music of the 
vibrations. The vibrations сап go so 
high on the scale of pain that we have 
to go into zero, and the way can be made 
richly horrible by thinking to ourselves, 
lit not to happen.” "Tr. was all 

that bastard’s fault," “I'm being punished 
for my sins,” "How could God let this 
happen to me?" When you say the music 
is abomi to the sound of your 
own comp Above all, simply listen, 
and I—for the time being—will be silent. 


nal nihilism, where- 
tale told by 
ad fury, signify- 


able. list 


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Winston tastes good 
like a cigarette should. 


King Size and Super King Size. 


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HDDEN ENVIRONMENT (continued рот page 110) 


walls from overhead slide projectors. The 
entire ensemble was programed and driv- 
єп by a central console in an adjacent 
room, and my rcactions—startled. move- 
ments, sustained interest, avoidance, 
dom explorations—were recorded on а 
cylinderand-pen device similar to an 
electrocardiograph. Essentially, th 
strument traced two things: (1) how long 
T remained in front of a given mirror, 
with its accompanying bombardment of 
hts sounds and images; and 
whether my response to this contradic 
tory information—moving closer, shield- 
ing my cyes, deactivating the sound by 
moving farther away, etc—favored. one 
means of perception over another, 

The psychologists at City University 
are still cautious about their findings, 
but here are some promising theories: 
When we are subjected to several com- 
peting stimuli, we tend to convert them 
into a single sensory message. In short, 
we translate the nation 


PLAYBOY 


infor into our 
visually 
ded people “see” sound and describe 
it in terms of light and color; music 
"hear" paintings and stiobe lights and 
sense a rhythmic, even a melodic, pattern 
in them. The experiments suggest that 
people who can perceive their surround- 
ings by thus translating from one sense to 
nother maintain a longer interest in the 
environment and find more meaning in it. 

What are the practical values of all 
these theories? Urban planners ше 
learning that if man is to be psychologi 
cally comfortable, he must be able to 
make sense out of the clutter of city life. 
Knowing in advance how we respond to 
sounds, lights, open spaces, the varieties 
of buildings and street layouts—what 
our behavioral expectations of the ur- 
ban environment are—helps us create 
hborhoods we want. In 
попсу 


strongest suit. Artists and оше 


о 


some ins 


aces, pl 


in a Monopolylike game to determine 
what it is that residents of a community 


l environ- 


value most about their phys 


ment. In Boston, designer Mid 
Southworth blindfolds his subjects 
has them pushed around in wheelch 


while they dictate their 
"o tape 
ides the 


iditory imp 
recorders. 
то feelings of 
"sonic distress" and. "sonic del for 
the guidance of planners who seek to 
reduce unvanted sound. 
In most cases, however. the new psy- 
chodesi irical. San Francisco 
architect Piero N. Patri moves into his 


Southworth 


reactions 


housing developments for month or so 
10 test 


their livability. He keeps an 
his stall because he 
is convinced that ethnic cult сез 
housing preferences. Recently, before 
starting a low-income urban-renewal proj- 
222 ес. Patri organized an encounter group 


influ 


in which prospective tenants (mostly 
black) confronted architects and design- 
сїз (all white) in a marathon session 
that sought to uncover the lile style of 
those who would occupy the buildings. 
The session brought out the bottled- 
up hostility of the prospective ter 
“Don't give us another high-rise slu 
they said, in effect, “We deserve better. 
Result: an attractive development of 

пей town 


because tenants lack a sense of "turf." 
Like their midd! hterparts in the 
new office buildings, they mess up such 
developments. in to assert 
their individuality. 

The mentally 


1 arc especially sensi- 
tive to their surroundings, and much of 
what we've le; 
environment 1 
psychiatric ward. Several years ago, Izum 
was hired to plan a psychiatric center in 
Yorkton, Saskatchewan. Among his 


rned about the designed 


pressions: The топ- 
ment created too much ambiguity in the 
minds of the patients Frechanging 


clocks seemed to defy gravity; transoms 

suggested guillotines about to fall: pol- 
ed-terrazzo surfaces and uniformity of 

design confused the patients sense of 
ic and space. 

Irumi's plans for Yorkton were finally 
scaled to the psychic boundaries of the 
patients and design was used to rein- 
force а feeling of security 
in a complex of several s 


lar buildings. All the structural elements. 
nd there 


were familiar, Izumi stressed, 
were no illusory qual 
that itects so often try to achiev 


striving to make things seem what they 
would n 


went. Не 
in the с 
people, 


aize ambigui 
mment even for health 
nce, in his opinion, 
tense up in the face of uncert 

Another behavioral 


e—that which draws people to- 
gether—with "sociofugal" space, which 
pushes them арап. A New England 
а row of glassed- 
usually sociofugal. If you 
асу, you seek out the latter, 
Ш common areas are necessarily 
socializing. One of the puzzles t 
confronted а team of psychologists w 
why patients in multibed rooms in a 
psychiat id were more passive 
their behavior than those in 
rooms. In mapping. patient. activity 
team found that in the 
occupants spent from two th 
fourths of their time lying on th 


common is sociope 


in cubicle: 
pr 
but not 


wa 


either asleep or awake. But in smaller 
two-bed rooms, ients were soci 
interactive. It was concluded. that what 


really matters is the freedom of choice 
permitted the patient in what he does; 
ihe more people in a room, the less chance 
cach has to pursue his own activities 
Without choice, one tends to withdraw. 

Observations of the outside world also 
confirm this. A comparison of large and 
small schools showed that 
there were more opportunit 
jed activi 
there 
in the smaller ones. Ideal space may be 
that which permits us to m 
privacy while interacting with others, for 
we are social in small groups. Robert 
Sommer, a psychologist at the University 
of California vis, believes ther 
spatial behavior that influences many of 
our actions. He observed that іп restau- 
rants, people more likely 10 talk 
across the corner of a table than if 
uing opposite or side by side. The 
ре of the table also makes а differ 
ence. Those with straight sides help de- 
fine our boundaries and make us more 
confident and assertive. Round tables 
scem to promote equality and une 
ty. Men will seldom sit side by 
they are given a chance to sit opposite, but 
women prefer sitting next to cach other. 

Additionally, in a study of the seating 
angements of school children in 4000 
classrooms, it was found that half the 
pupils with chronic infections and two 
thirds of those with nutritional problems 


occupied seats in the darkest quadrant of 
the rooms, Sommer suggests that social 
маде and physical impairment 


ply led these children to select—or 
signed to—inlerior space. In all 
behavior, there is a strong desire to 
stake out a turf that's appropriate to our 
self-image. Moreover, the milieu helps 
dictate the role we play in it. That we 
act like students when we school, 
аге reverential in church and lackacdaisi- 
al s is because these environ- 
ments tell us in advance how to behave. 

A revealing example of this occurred 
n Cali- 
by the 


no longer walled in, th 
cooperation improved mea 


urably. Epi- 


leptis undergoing  neaunent experi- 
enced fewer fits and, in general, the tent 
colony seemed to benefit everyone, even 


patients became difficult 
tics had more fits. Psychiatrists conclud- 
ed that in any environment, there аге 
standards of behavior to which people 
adhere simply because it's what's expected 
of them, 

Whether space is friendly or 
often depends upon size and layout. 
Parks. for example, bring people to- 
gether on a casual basis, but they also 


nd the cpilep- 


"It looks to me as though Claudius has met his match." 


223 


PLAYBOY 


224 


lone, and they are ideal for lovers 
a public setting in which to 
e their private feelings. Formal 
gardens, оп the other hand, impose for- 
mal conduct; the landscaping discourages 
social interaction. Contrary to what onc 
might expect. private outdoor space is 
more socializing than communal space. 
Residents of a postwar housing develop- 
nent near Coventry, England, frater- 
nized more w 
they met in cach other's yards: f 
that were compelled to share à common 
garden actually knew fewer neighbors. 
Tn suburbs and small towns. people are 
more likely to talk across their back 
yards if die property line is indicated 
by a fence. Because this boundary helps 
them maintain territoriality. it actually 
brings neighbors closer together 

If both privacy and social ction 
are necessary ingredients of human. be- 
havior, how do we arrange our territory 
to gain the optimum values of cach? 
Environmentalists see this as а proble: 
in spati ion, and they've had a 
field day working out the answers. Here 
аге some of their findings: 

In a study made in Topeka, Kansas. 
the Environmental Research and De- 
velopment Foundation compared the cF 
fects of high-rise and garden apartments 
on the behavior of their occupants. Re- 
sults showed that, proportionately, the 
tenants made twice as many 


greater fee 
drawal, while gard 
were more involved 
eic, and enjoyed a g 
power over their lives. 

A study in Germany compared the 
health of wives and children of British 


sold 
the health of those in apartment. build- 
ings. The differences were startling, 
Among the latter group. the illness rate 
was 57 percent higher, with neuroses 
markedly greater. incidence. 
the apartment buildings, the 
rates of neuroses varied directly with the 
distance from the ground floor: Higher 
partments seemingly степей more so- 
cial isolation. In short, the elfect of mass 
housing is not crowding but lonel 

In explaining this paradox, architect 
Christopher Alexander of the Center lor 
onmental Structure in Berkeley, 
California, posits another: It isn’t si 
itself that causes the ills of urban life, 
he says, but the turning away fom 
"Stress forces people to withdraw into 
themselves [and] cre. 


ing intimate contact seem less neces- 
" Alexander would "bring people 
of hiding" through an ingenious 
geometric city of transparent 
open courtya 
spaces, all buried just below the su 
of the earth in clusters of 2: 
Ina he would 
encourage intimacy. 

Reminiscent of a Pueblo cliff dwell- 
er's setup, Alexander's utopia has yet to 
be constructed, but the theory of forced 
contact may not be as crazy as it seems. 
Robert K. Merton analyzed families who 
lived ou opposite sides of a street. He 
found that 75 percent of the people who 
had doors facing the front made contact 
with their acrossthe-street. neighbors. Of 
those who didn't, only four percent be- 
came friends. 

Crowding as an environmental. vari- 
able is only beginning to be ser 
examined, and the data so far is incon 
clusive. Much of what we know about the 
subject on а hypothetical level can be 


out 


houses, 


waced to Dr. John В. Calhoun's experi- 
ments with Norwegian rats. Calhoun, who 
is a research psychologist at the National 
Institute of Mental Health, demonstrated 
that when rats in confinement exceed а 
certain density, they undergo radical 
changes in behavior. Some become homo- 


sexual; others become aggressive; yet 
others simply lie down and die. Many 
ecologists have concluded from this that 
there is an upper limit to man's own 
tolerance for crowding. quite apart from 
his demands on the natural resources. 
Calhoun believes that, based on the 


total ecological picture, the optimum 
world population is nine billion, but he 
sees little hope that the increase сап be 
stopped before it reaches 13.5 


"This need not be fatal, however. 
"There is а good chance that many of the 
adverse effects noted in the crow: 


experiments—the combative behavior of 
men, the morbid effects on animals—are 
really the result of confinement, When 
people are free to escape—via the auto- 
mobile, for instance—high density 
more tolerable. And whether we feel 
crowded often depends upon the social 
setting. At a cocktail party, people 
bunch up intentionally to get in on the 
action. But a golf course is crowded if a 
foursome 200 yards away is holding up 
the play. The important thing is not 
how many people live on an acre of 
land but how they arrange themselves on 
it and for what purpose. 

There does appear to be a relation- 
ship between spatial separation and our 
proncness to k 
made in France found а direct correla- 
tion between living space, crime and 
other social problems among the urban 
working class. The optimum turf proved 
to be from 85 to 130 square feet per pe 
son. When space was less than 85, social 
pathology doubled, Above 130 square feet, 
the disorders also increased, although not 
so drastically, 


If high density is a factor in crime 
nd di Hong Kong should be a 
i ample. It is the most densely 


ed city in the world, сотай 
up to 2000 people per 
with 450 in Boston and New York). As 
y as four or five families occupy the 
same apartment on a shift basis. Yet, 
except for tuberculosis, its inhabitants 
appear to be healthier than Americans, 
and far more law-abiding. A survey 
based on census figures for 1961 showed 
9.3 deaths per 1000 population in thc 
United States and 5.9 in Hong Kong. 
Fewer than one tenth as many Hong 
Kong residents were hospitalized for psy- 

in the U.S. (раги 
no doubt, because of fewer diagnost 
and t 
discrepancy is nevertheless sta 
figures for murder and man: 
six times as high and that for all sci 


eatment facilities, although thc 
tling). Our 
ughter were 


Gen. U. S. Importers: Van Munching & Co., Inc., N.Y., N.Y. 


IMPORTED HEINEKEN. IN BOTTLES, ON DRAFT AND DARK BEER. 


{ 225 


PLAYBOY 


226 


ed was double. Yet when 
new housing was made available to some 
Hong Kong families, many of them sub- 
let space in their timy apartments to 
others, 

Why these disparities exist isn’t entire- 
ly clear, but we can speculate that abun- 
dant. public-hez v and the hig 
ized Chi ; help keep а 
the runaway problems of 
als, too, have a higher 
involvement ratio than do most white 
Americans (so, for that matter, do south- 
em Europeans and American blacks), 
hence they survive comfortably im en- 
vironments that we consider intolerable. 
The Japanese have adapted to high der 
sities by leaving their cities chaotic and 
ng the inte 


crimes combi 


unplanned while be 
of their homes. 
One of the dilemmas encountered by 
urban planners in this country is why 
uprooted slum dwellers often move to 
nother slum rather than into new hous- 
projects clsewhere in the city 
Studies have shown that many of these 
ethnic groups are quite happy to be 
crowded. Profesor Izumi thinks that 
ghettos are environmentally permissive 
in that they offer a freer range of chi 
In the planned community of Brasil 
the new capital of Brazil, it is the older, 
“free city” of the working classes to 
which other residents flee to experience 
spontaneity and excitement—the 


reason that suburban New Yorkers flock 
to Manhattan. 
The new tow 


ns of Europe. with their 
d careful landscaping, 
duce a degree of apathy in 
tants that is not experienced 
in the urban “jungle.” Last year, a team 
of educators in West Germany conduct- 
ed an experiment in selLexpression 
among young children living in three 
new towns and three older cities. Сот- 
paring thei ntings and drawings, the 
researchers found that whereas the city 
child was stimulated by his environ- 
ment, the new-town child tended to be 
unimaginative and bland. They conclud- 
ed that for the latter, the overplanned 
ter of the surroundings inhibited 
atural curiosity and blunted his 
creativity. 

By the year 2000, 80 percent of the 
American people will live in cities: 
world-wide, during this time, as many 
buildings will be erected. as have gone 
up in all recorded history. Most enviro 
mentalists agree that the one thing our 
cities will not be is futuristic—at least in 
appearance. They are far more likely to 
be complex and cluttered than simple 
and orderly, although the clutter. will 
be there м 
thinking less in terms of efficiency tha 
of the mental image the city projects 
onto its inhabitants. The new urban 
aesthetic, some believe, will avoid the 


"I'm not my own to give and if 1 were, I 
wouldn'l give те to you.” 


traditional lines of scale and perspective 
in favor of how people go about their 
daily business. In brief. cities will prot 
bly be built around the behavioral 
needs of the inhabitants, rather th; 
chitects. 
environmentalist 


monuments to the 
IF the 


ha 


Smaller schools and parks more inti 
mately designed public areas, promenades 
to break up the sameness of block 
outs, more regard for the unique cha 
ter of the neighborhoods—all this will 
help us personalize space. Nor will insti- 
tutions be quite as institutional-looking 
in the future. In Boston, а new pediat- 
vies hospital is being built 
agement around open court 
floated" over a shopping pla 
might have been a threatening super- 
structure to. young patients will be a 
decentralized complex that’s part of a 
familiar neighborhood. Los Angeles ar- 


а. What 


chitect C. M. Deasy, in redesigning 
obsolescent school i 
public 


a black arca, put a 
alk through the grounds as 

inging the local commun- 
ict with the school. 
ing the citizens a better idea of 
what's going on behind the fences. As a 
result, most of the friction between out- 
siders and school staff has disappeared. 
In housing projects, there will be par- 
licipatory planning like Piero Рай» 
with the occupants helping decide the 
environmental mix. 

Can we eliminate the noise of the 
city? The Federal Council of Scientists 
reports а doubling of the environmental 
sound level every ten years, and at this 
‚ the decibels may become lethal. No 
doubt. legi fist, but. 
Some of the 


Чем 


ns of bı 


sign is being done by Michael South- 
worth, who not merely would fight noise 
but wants to beat it at its own game. Не 
would use symboli inform 


sounds to 


pedestrians of such things as the мешін 
and approaching buses. Street crievs 
would relay public information: i 


squares and parks, large, animated sculp- 
tures would make sounds when people 
moved around them; and in ugly ar 
sequences of different floor mater 
would squeak, ramble, squish or pop to 
шегені when walked upo 
Where there is visual monotony, South 
worth says, add new sounds, such 
splashing water fountains, bells and 
boat hon 
Fanciful? Probably, but it indicates 
one way the. psychodesigners are tr 
to make а world in which we will fe 
home. It's not simply the destruction. of 
ural resources we must be concerned 
with now and in the future: we must 
environment that can 
allow us to become more human 


па 


also create 


(continued [rom page 98) 


come up to the house. I mustn't have 
heard. | went with her up the walk 
and the stairs to the porch, where she 
tried the door and found it locked. She 
asked me again to go, but I couldn't 
abandon her there, could I? Then a li 
went on and the door was opened by a 
dwarf. He was exhaustively misshapen. 
The head was hydrocephalic, the features 
were swollen, the legs were thick and 
cruelly bowed. I thought of the circus. 
The lovely young woman began to cry. 
She stepped into the house and closed 


the door and I was left with the summer 
night, the elms, the taste of an east 
wind. Alter this, she avoided me for a 
weck or so and I was told the facts by 
Maggie, our old cook. 

But other facts first. Tt was in the 
summer and in the summer, most of us 
went to а camp on the cape run by the 
headmaster of the St. Botolphs Acade 
my. The months were so feckless, so 
blue, that I can't remember them at all. 
I slept next to a boy named DeVarennes, 
whom J had known all my life. We were 
together most of the time. We played 
marbles together, slept together, played 
together on the same backfield and once 
together took a ten-day canoe wip dur 
ing which we nearly drowned together 
My brother claimed that we had begun 
to look alike. It was the most gratifying 
and unself-conscious relationship I had 
known. (He still calls me once or twice a 
year from San Francisco, where he lives 
unhappily with his wife and three un- 
married daughters. He sounds drunk 
he asks.) 
a stranger named 


“We were happy, weren't we? 
One day another boy, 


Wallac ked if I wanted to swim 
across the lake. I might claim that I 
knew nothing about Wallace, and 1 


knew very little, but I did know or sense 
that he was lonely. It was as conspicu 
ous, more conspicuous than any of his 
features. He did what was expected. o 
him. He played ball, made his bed, took 


siling lessons and got his lifesaving 
certificate. but this seemed more like а 
careful imposture than any sort of par 
icipation. He was miserable, he was 
ely and sooner or later, rain or shine, 
he would say so and, in Ше act of 
confession, make an impossible claim on 
one’s loyalty. One knew all this, but one 
pretended not to. We got permission 


from the swimmi 


g instructor and swam 
across the lake. We used a clumsy side 
stroke that still seems to me more serv 
ble than the overhand that is oblig 
могу these days in those swim 
pools where I spend most of my time 
The side stroke is lower class. Гуе seen 
it once in a swimming pool and when I 
asked who the swimmer was, I was told 
he was the butler. When the ship sinks, 
when the plane ditches, I will try to reach 


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PLAYBOY 


228 


the life raft with an overhand and drown 
stylishly, whereas if 1 had used a lower- 
class side stroke, 1 would live forever. 
We swam the lake, resting 
sun—no confidences—and sw 
When I went up to our cabi 
Varennes took me aside. “Don’t ever let 
me see you with Wallace again,” he said. 
I asked why. He told me. “Wallace is 
Amos Cabors bastard. His mother is a 
whore. They live in one of the tene- 
ments across the river. 
The next day was hot and brilliant 
and Wallace asked if I wanted to swim 
the lake again. I said sure, sure, and we 
did. When we went back to camp, De 


Varennes wouldn't speak to me. That 
night a northeaster blew up and it 
ained for three days. DeVarennes seems 


and | don't re- 
аке with W: 
As for the dwarf, Maggie 
told me he was а son of Mrs. C 
from an earlier marriage. He worked 
the tablesilver factory, but he went to 
work early in the morning and didn 
return until after dark. His existence 
was meant to be kept а secret. This was 
ime of which 
precelented. The Т 
bulls kept Mrs "Trumbull's. crazy 
hidden in the attic and Uncle Peepee 
Marshmallow—an exhibitionist—was of- 
ten hidden for months. 


iven me 


um- 


sister 


Tt was a winter afternoon, ап carly 
winter afternoon. Mrs Cabot washed 
her diamonds and hung them out to 
dry. She then went upstairs to take a 
nap. She claimed that she had never 
taken а nap in her life and the sounder 
she slept, the more vehement were her 
claims that she didn't sleep. This was 
not so much an eccentricity on her part 
as it was a crabwise way of presenting 
the facts that was prevalent in that part 
of the world. She woke at four and went 
down to gather her stones, They were 
gone. She called Geneva, but there was 
no answer. She got a rake and scored the 
stubble under the clothesline. There was 
nothing. She called the police. 

er afternoon 


nd the winters there were very cold. 


We counted for heat—sometimes fo 
survival—on wood fires and large coal- 
burning furnaces that sometimes got out 
of hand. А winter night was а threaten- 
g fact and this may have partly 
the sentiment: with which 
late November and De- 
cember—the light burn out 
(Му father's journals, 
were full of descriptions of winter 
lights, not because he was at 


we ow; 


the west. 
өріс, 
twi- 


for 


cular but because the coming of the 
night might mean danger and pain. 
Geneva had packed a bag, gathered the 


the Last train out of 
ШҮ must 


iamonds and take 
town—the 4:37. How 


have been. The diamonds were meant to 
be stolen. They were a flagrant snare 
and she did what she was meant to do. 
She took the train to New York that night 
and sailed three days later for Alexan- 
dria on a Cunarder—the 5.5. Serapis. 
She took a boat from Alexandria to 
Luxor, where, in the space cf two 
months, she joined the Moslem faith 
and married the khedive. 

1 read about the theft the next day in 
ing paper. I delivered. papers. 1 
з my route on foot, moved on 


truck driver! I hung around the lino- 
type room until the papers were printed 
and 


drove d 1o the four 
ng villages, tossing out bundles 
at the doors of the candy and stationery 
stores. During the world series, a second 
edition with box scores was brought out 
and after dark, I would make the trip 
again to Travertine and the other places 
the shore. 

The roads were d 
litte traffic and leaf ning had not 
been forbidden, so that the air was 
tannic, melancholy and exciting. One 
can attach a mysterious and inord 
amount of importance to some si 
journey and this second wip with the box 
scores made me very happy. I dread. 
ed the end of the world series as om 
dreads the end of € and had 
I been younger, I would have prayed, 
ABOT JEWELS STOLEN" was the headli 
d the incident 
tioned in the paper. It was not men- 
tioned at all in our house, but U 
not unusual. When M bbott 
himself from the pear псе next door, 
this was never mentioned. 

Molly and T took a walk on the beach 
at Travertine that Sunday afternoon. I 
was troubled, but Molly's troubles were 
much graver. It did not disturb her that 
Geneva had stolen the diamonds. She 
only wanted to know what had become 
of her sister and she was not to find out 
for another six weeks However, some- 
thing had happened at the house two 
nights before. There had been а scene 


then. aro 


k, there was very 


between her parents and her father had 
left. She described this ıo me. We were 
king barefoot. She was crying. Т 


would like to have forgotten the scene 
as soon as she finished her descrip 


ships founder and m. 


deaths es and subm 
you will find none of this in my ac 
counts, In the last chapter, the ship 
comes home to port, the children are 
saved, the miners will be rescued. Is this 
n infirmity of the genteel or а convic 
tion that there arc discernible moral 
truths? M defecated in. his wife's top 
drawer. This is a fact, but I claim that 


it is not a truth. In describing St. Be 
tolphs. I would sooner stay on the West 
Bank of the river, where the houses were 
white and where the church bells ran 
but over the bridge there was the table- 
silver lactory, the tenements (owned by 
Mrs. Cabot) and the Comme Hotel 
At low tide, one could smell the sea gas 
from the inlets at Travertine. The head- 
lines in the afternoon paper dealt with 
a wink murder. The women on the 
streets were ugly. Even the dummies ii 
the one store window seemed stooped. 
depressed and dressed in clothing tha 
neither fied nor became them. Even 
the bride in her splendor scemed to 
have gotten some bad news. The politics 
were neofascist, the factory was 
union, the food was unp 
night wind was bitter. This was 
vinc nd a traditional world e 
few of the rewards of smallness and 
traditionalism, and when I speak of 
the blessedness of all small places, I 
speak of the West Bank. On the East 
Bank was the Commercial Hotel, the 
demesne of Doris, a male prostitute who 
worked as a supervisor in the facto 
during the day and hustled the bar 
ar night, exploiting the extraordin: 
moral lassitude of the place. Everybody 
knew Doris and many of the customers 
had used him at one time or anothei 
There was no scandal and no delight 
volved. Doris would charge а wavelin 
salesman whatever he could get, but he 
did it with the regulars for nothing. 
This seemed less like tolerance than like 
Mer ‚ the absence of v 
sion. moral stamina, the splendid ambi- 
tiousness of romantic love. On fight 
night. E drifts down the bar. Buy 
him a drink and he'll put his hand оп 
your arm, your shoulder, your waist, and 
move a fraction of an inch in his direc 
tion and hell reach for the cake. The 
steam fitter buys him a drink, the high 
school dropout, the watch  repairm: 
(Once a stranger shouted to the ba 
tender: “Tell that son of a bitch to t 
his tongue out of my 


these men will nev 
place, and vet this sems to be the 
esence of spiritual nomadism, The tcl 
phone rings and the bartender. beckons 
to Doris. There's а customer in room 
it. Why would 1 sooner be on the 


© in any other 


West Bank, where my parents are pla 
5 bridge with Mr. and Mis, Eliot 
Pinkham in the golden 1 f a great 


gas chandelier? 

FH blame it on the roast, the roast. 
the Sunday roast bought from а butch- 
er who wore a straw beater with a 
pheasant wing in the hatband. I suppose 
the roast entered our house, wrapped in 
bloody paper, on ‘Thursday or Friday, 
uavding on the back of a bicycle. It 
would be a gross сха 


eration to say that 


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PLAYBOY 


232 


“You're tough, Nic 


the meat had the detonative force of a 
land mine that could savage your eves 
amd your genitals, but its powers were 
disproportionate. We sat down to din- 
ner alter church. (My brother was living 
jı Omaha at that time, so we were only 
) My father would hone the сагу 
nife and make a cut in the meat. 
father was very adroit with an ax 
and a crowcut siw and could bring 
down a large тсе with dispatch, bur the 
Sunday roast was something else. After 
he had made the first cut, my mother 
would sigh. This was an extraordinary 
performance, so loud, so profound that it 
seemed as if her life were in danger. It 
seemed as if her very soul might come 
hinged and drift out of her open 
mouth. “Will you never learn, Leander, 
that amb must be carved against the 
s she would ask. Once the battle of 
the roast had begun, the exchanges were 
so swift, predictable and tedious that there 
would be no point in reporting them, 
Alter five or six wounding remarks, 
my father would wave the carving knife 
н the ай and shout: “Will you kindly 
mind your own business, will you kindly 
shut up?” 


She would sigh once more and put 


mes fat 


a man who's tough!" 


her hand to her heart. Surely this was 
her last breath. Then, studying the air 
above the table, she would say: “Feel 
that refreshing breeze.” 
here was, of course, seldom a breeze, 
h could be ailes, midwinter, rainy, 
anything. The remark was one for all 
seasons. Was it a commendable metaphor 
for hope, for the serenity of lore (w 
1 think she had never experienced)? Was 
it nostalgia for some summer evening 
when, loving and understanding, we sat 
comentedly on the lawn above the river? 
Was it no bette worse than the sort 
м the evening st 
man who is in utter desp 
prophecy of that generation 
who would be so drilled in eva 
they would be denied forever 
splendors of a passionate confronta 
‘The scene ch Rome. It 
spring, when the c lows flock 


orn 


of smile thrown 


bya 


ir? Was it a 
10 come 
cness 

the 


сэ to 


nny swa 


into the city to avoid the wing shots in 
the birds make seems 


Ostia, The noise 
like light as the 
brilliance. Th one hears, 
‚ the voice of 


across the 
ап American 


he is өсте You're а god- 
damned, Гаске ар nosood insane. piece 
of shit You can’t make a nickel 


you 


don't have a friend in the world and in 
bed you stink. . . ." "There is no reply 
and one wonders if she is railing at the 
dark. Then you hear a man cough. 
That's all you will hear from "Oh. 
1 know I've lived with 


for 
years, but if you ever thought I liked it, 


you 


any of it, it’s only because you're such 
a chump you wouldn't know 
thing if you had it. When I really come, 
the pictures fall off the walls, With you 
it’s always an act..." The high-low 
bells that ring in Rome at that time of 
day have begun to chime. I smile at this 
sound, although it has no bearing on my 
life, my faith, no tue harmony, nothing 
like the revelations in the voice across 
the court. Why would 1 sooner describe 
church bells and flocks of swallows? Is 
this puerile, a sort of grecting-cad men- 
tality, a whimsical and elfeminate refusal 


the real 


to look at facts? On and on she goes. 
but I will follow her no longer. She 
eks his hair, his brain and his spirit, 


while 1 observe that a light rain has 
I and that the effect of this 
is to louden the noise of trafhc on the 
corso, Now she is hysterical—her voice is 


of her malediction, perhaps, she will be 
gin w ay and ask his forgiveness. She 
will not, of course. She will go after him 
with a carving knife and he will end up 
in the emergency ward of the polycliné 
co, daiming to have wounded himself 
1 ner, smiling at 
beng ns. children and ihe fi 
stars of evening, P assure myself that 
evervthing will work out for the best. 
Feel that refreshing breeze! 

My recollections of the Cabots are 
only a footnote to my principal work 
d I go to work early these winter 
mornings. It is still dark. Here and 
there, standing on street comers, waiting 
for buses, are women dressed in white 
They м ad white stock- 
ings and white uniforms can be seen 
below their winter c Are they 
nurses, beauty-parlor operators, dentists’ 


ut as 1 go out for d 


rs, foun 


r white shoes а 


its. 


im on rye ul a Thermos of 
Traffic is light at this time of 
day. A Laundry truck. delivers uniforms 
to the Fried Chicken Shack and in As 
burn Place there is a milk truck—the 
last of that generation. It will be half an 
hour before the yellow school buses start 
their rounds. 

1 work in an apartment house called 
the Prestwick. It is seven stories high 


buttermill 


and dates, 1 guess, from the Іше Twen- 
ties. It is of a Tudor persuasion. The 
bricks are irregular, there is a parapet 


on the roof and the sign, advertisin 
vacancies, is lite 
hangs from iron 


tically 


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Come on. 

I dare you. 

Ask for any cocktail 
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Г] have it ready 
as fast as you 
can say 

Party Tyme. 


And it will be 
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Care for a 
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You've gotit. 
Daquiri? 
Coming right up. 
Sangria, 

Pifia Colada, 
Margarita, 
take your pick 
of fabulous 
drinks that 
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The dry mixes 
are pre-measured. 


Every box holds 
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drinks whenever 
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Stay home tonight. 
It could be your 
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With Party Tyme. 


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Home was never like this before. 


PLAYBOY 


the door, there is a list of perhaps 25 
doctors’ names, but these ате not gentle 
healers with stethoscopes and rubber 
hammers, these are psychiatrists and this 
is the country of the plastic chair and 
the full ashtray. 1 don't know why they 
should have chosen this place, but they 
өші the other tenants, Now and 
then you see, waiting for the elevator, а 
woman with a grocery wagon and a 
child, but you mostly see the sometimes 
hanied faces of men and women with 
trouble. They sometimes smile; they 
sometimes talk to themselves, Business 
seems slow these days and the doctor 
whose office is next to mine often stands 
n the hallway 
What does a psychiatrist think? Does he 
wonder what has become of those pa- 
tients who gave up, who refused group 
therapy, who disregarded his warnings 
and He will know their 


aber 


. string out the window. 


admonitions? 


secrets. T tried to murder my husband. 1 
tried to murder my wife, Three y 


ars 


ago, I took an overdose of sleeping pilis. 
The year before that, I cut my wrists. 
My mother wanted me to be a girl. My 
mother wanted me to be a boy. My 
mother wanted me to be a homosexual. 
Where had they ропе, what were they 
doing? Were they still married, quarrel- 
the dinner table, decorating the 
mas tree? Had they divorced, re- 
ried, jumped off bridges, taken Sec- 
onal, struck some kind of wuce, turned 
homosex or moved to a farm in Ver- 
mont where they planned to raise straw- 
berries and lead a simple life? The 
doctor sometimes stands by the window 
for an hour. 

My real work these days is to write an 
edition of The New York Times that 
will bring gladness to the hearts of men. 
How bener could I occupy myself? The 
Times is a critical if rusty link іп my 
ies to reality, but in these 
its tidings have been monotonous. The 
prophets of doom are out of work. All 
one can do is to pick up the pieces. 
The lead story is this “PRESIDENT'S 
HEART TRANSPLANT DEEMED SUCCESSFUL." 
‘There is this box on the lower left: 
Cost or J- HOOVER MEMORIAL 
CHALLENGED. The subcommittee on me- 
morials threatened today to halve the 
$7,000,000 appropriated to commemorate 
the late J. Edgar Hoover with a Tem- 
ple of Justice. . . .” Column three: 
“CONTROVERSIAL LEGISLATION REPEALED BY 
ENATE. The recently enacted bill, mak- 
ing it a felony to have wicked thoughts 
about the Administration, was repealed 
ierncon by a stand-up vote of 43 
On and on it goes. There are 


st years, 


EDGAK 


to 
robust and heartening editorials, thrill 


ing sports news and the weather, of 
course, is always sunny and warm. unless 
we need rain, Then we have rain. The 
pollutant gradient is zero amd even 


in Tokyo. fewer and fewer people are 
wearing al 5 АП highways, 
throughwavs, freeways and expressways 
м be closed for the holiday weekend. 
Joy to the world! 

But to get back to the Cabots. The 
scene that I would like to overlook or 
forget took pla 
had stolen. the d 
plumbing. Most of the houses im the 
village had relatively litle plumbing. 
There was usually а water closet in the 
basement for the cook and the ashman 
and a single bathroom on the second 
floor for the rest of the household. Some 
of these rooms were quite large and the 
Endicotts had a fireplace in their bath- 
mom. Somewhere along the line, Mrs. 
Cabot decided that the bathroom was 
her demesne. She had a locksmith come 
and secure the door, Mr. Cabot was al- 
lowed to take his sponge bath every 
morning, but after this, the bathroom 
Чоог was locked and Mrs. Cabot kept 
the key in her pocket. Mr. Cabot w 
obliged to usc à chamber pot, but since 
he came from the South Shore, I don't 
suppose this was much of a hardship. It 
may even have been nostalgic. He was 
using the chamber pot late that night 
when Mrs. Cabot went to the door 
of his room. (They slept in separate 
тоот.) “Will you close the door?” she 
screamed. "Will you close the door? Do 
I have to listen to that horrible noise for 
the rest of my life?" They would both 
shigowns, her 
in braids. She picked up the chamber 
pot and threw its contents at him. He 
kicked down the door of the locked 
bathroom, washed, dressed, packed a bag 
d walked over the bridge to Mrs. 
Wallace's place on the East Bank. 

He stayed there for three days and 
then returned. Не was мо about 
Molly and in such a small place, there 
were appearances to be considered— 
Mrs. Wallace's as well as his own. He 
divided his time between the East and 
the West banks of the river until a week 
or so later, when he was taken ill. He 
fdt languid. He stayed in bed until 
noon. When he dressed and went to 
отсе, he returned after ап hour or зо. 
The doctor examined him and found 
nothing wrong. 

One ew Mrs. Wallace saw Mrs. 
Cabot coming out of the drugst 
the East Bank. She watched һе 
cross the bridge and then went 
drugstore and asked the clerk 
Cabot was a regular customer. “I've 
been wondering about that myself," the 
clerk said. "Of course, she comes over 
here to collect her rents, but I always 
thought she used the other drugstore. 
She comes in nt poison— 
arsenic, that is. She says they have these 
terrible ants in the house on Shore 


be in snow-white hair 


if Mrs. 


here to bı 


Road and arsenic is the only way of 
getting rid of them, From the way she 
buys arsenic, the ants must be terrible.” 
Mrs, Wallace might have warned Mr. 
Cabot, but she never saw him again. 

She went after the funeral to Judge 
Simmons and 1 that she wanted to 
charge Mrs. Cabot with murder. The 
drug clerk would have a record of her 
ic that would be incri 
have in" the judge 
he won't give it to you. 
What you are asking for is an емиш 
tion of the body and a long mial i 
nstable and you neither the 
money nor the reputation to support 
this, You were his friend, 1 know, for 
sixteen years. He was a splendid ma 
and why don't you console yourself w 
the thou 
that you knew him? And another thing. 
He's left you and Wallace а substant 
legacy. If Mrs. Cabot were provoked to 
contest the will, vou could lose this. 

I went out to Luxor to see Geneva. 1 
flew to London in a 747. The жете 
only three passengers; but, as 1 say, the 
prophets of doom are out of work. I 
went from Cairo up the Nile in а low- 
flying two-motor prop. The sameness of 
wind crosion and water crosion makes 
the Sal there sem to have been 
guticd by floods, rivers, courses, streams 
and brooks, the thrust of а natural 
search, The scorings are watery and ar- 
boreal and as а false stream bed spreads 
out, it takes the shape of a tree, striving 
for light. It was freezing in Cairo whe 
we left before dawn. Luxor, where Ge- 
neva met me at the airport, wits hot. 

I was very happy to sec her, so happy 
1 was unobservant, but I did notice that 
she had gotten fat. I don't 
she was heavy; I mean that she weighed 
about 300 pounds. She was a fat wom: 
Her hair, once a coarse yellow, was now 
golden, but her Massachusetts accent 
was as strong as ever. It sounded like 
music to me on the upper Nile. Her 
husband—now a colonel—was a slender, 
ldle-aged man, a relative of the last 
He owned a restaurant at the edge 
of the city and they lived in a pleasant 
apartment over the dining room. The 
loncl humorous, intelligent—a 


mcan tha 


1 spent a week with them, mostly 
temples and graves. We spent the ev 
nings in his bar. War w. 
the full of Russi 


wa 


sport. On the last day, I swam 
hand—and they drove me to 
the airport, where I kissed Geneva 
the Cabots—goodbye. 


and 


“Aren't we taking this child-wife thing a bit far, Dora?” 


235 


PLAYBOY 


236 beret and а voluminous blue clo: 


ee э 1 
riviera idyl (555) 


mountains and when I anived at my 
remembered river, it had changed from 
a slow stream into a rage of water. 

i this tide I saw a naked 
a papieramáché window 
dresser's dummy, 
and stockings, its red mouth still pr 
vividly on the pulpy face. 

What do you do in the midst of 
disaster? Over a bleak lunch in the villa, 
we agreed on one thing: You go to the 
circus. I suppose we both had the same 
notion—it was better to be miserable 
looking at something else than each 
other. The last act of the world would 
be a boring little provincial circus 
camped on a mud flat at the end of our 


affair. Then she would vanish into a 
northbound wain and I, eventually, 
would land at London airport. Cold 


homecomings. in the rain, no doubt. 
So, that afternoon, we drove down the 
winding, slippery road in my rented 


Fiat. Through the drenched air, we 
could sce the river beginning to erase 
its banks. Upstream, it had gnawed 


away the underpinnings of two houses 

nd we watched them—miniature in 
the distance—fall slowly into the water, 
swirl into midstream, break into frag 
ments of rool and timber. On the wide, 
brown, muddreighted hemorrhage of 
river, they swept past Porto dei Pescatori 
toward the s 

1 didn't look at her 


I had a Mash of a 
papicrmáché mask with red 
lips printed on i ienne—could any- 
one possibly be Vivienne? A dummy" 
me. My tense, lovely, amber girl of a 
month ago surely had been called by 
another name, but it was lost now. 

The litle port looked unthreatened 
as we entered its streets. The mole and 
the stone embankment where the fishing 
boats were moored to iron rings the 
stone arches of the arcade around. the 
cobbled square, the yellow or ocher 
houses with their shuttered windows; all 
this seemed sale and solid enough. But 
once we were out of the town 
heading toward the old parade 
where the circus tents were pitched. it 
was different. Fhe rain seemed denser. 
the thin sheets of water on the flats 
seemed 10 grow and merge even as we 
looked. And when we came to the tents, 
the circus band seemed to be playing in 
sheer terror to drown out the sound of 
the surf nearby. I locked the car, bought 
our tickets пзісіс, 

The performance had already begu 
nd the clowns were coming into the 
ring with an exaggerated fanfare Пот 
the band. We looked around—the aud 
ence was not large—and found seats 
without trouble. I sat next to a lo 
al monument—a bourgeois bonhomme 
with a wl ng it broad 


nd we went 


redolence of wine surrounded him. 

Three of the clowns were going 
through a frantic routine of chasing and 
beating the fourth. The victim stumbled 
sh an elaborate mime of fear and 
stupidity. He ran to the empty lion cage 
and tried to squeeze through the bars; 
he tumbled in a clumsy somersault; he 
waved his arms to implore the audience. 
He was a man of about 60 with a gray 
bushy beard; according to the notice 
d, he was kti-Li-crowx. The three 
ers were nothing much to watch— 
they did what all clowns do—but. Kurz 
was clearly a performer. Somehow, even 
in the crude, tumbling routine, he man- 
aged to transmit a feeling of the eternal 
victim, а man forever pursued by joking 
clods. Finally. he escaped [rom his tor 
menters and scrambled up а litle step- 
ladder, where he stood appealing for 


rescue before they shot him. One of the 
others pulled a huge, comic pistol from 
his baggy pants and aimed at Kurz. 


There was а flash and the bang of a 
powder cap. With immense mock dig- 
nity. Kurz fell to the sawdust and they 
dragged him off. 
“Quelle hont 
next 10 me 


the old man 
"Du vin, mon- 


süd 
d the 
siem?” He produced a boule of red 
wine and two clean little glasses from 
beneath his cloak, poured ceremouiously 
nd offered them to us. We thanked him 
nd accepted. “The next act will be less 
shameful,” he said in French. “The circus 
owner himself performs with the big cats." 
TARZAN, the notice board read—and 
he was a reasonable copy. He bounded 
nto the ring, all muscles and leopardskin 
tunic But Lord Greystoke would have 
winced at the brilliantined black hair. 
He bowed, cracked his whip and the 
ns began to come in throu 
caged runway. The band was pl 
something it regarded as jungle music 
‘The crowd applauded. 
Kurz, restored to life, had come for- 
ward to open the cage door and Tarza 
entered. He first went into a safety cage 
and then opened the inner door. As the 
last of the lions came through the run- 
y. he marshaled them into their proper 
ces. The ritual of movement began. 
“They look like huge, jealous women,” 
ivienne whispered to me. Half true 
there was a certain snarling about 
precedence, but it seemed to me that the 
great cats were edgy for some oth 
reason. They made restless, false moves 
and Tarzan would make them readjust. 
He was not bad. not at all a bad t 
hut even we could see that the timing of 
the act had gone off a little. Tarzan 
exerted himself, used the whip, and the 
order was restored for the moment. 
The lions were parading in a cirde 
when we saw the first slip of water under 
the tent. It washed in near one of the 


ner, 


exits, then spread into a dirty pool 
about ten feet wide. A woman screamed. 
We realized that the crowd, without being 
aware of it, had been anxious about this 
all along. The thrash of sea ag. 
shore had been an undertone 
mind. Now there was panic. The crowd 
began to spill down over the plank seats, 
children scrambling, women with babies 
running frantically. 

“Do not move. Stay here!” the old 
man in the cloak said to Vivienne and 
me. “It is not a disaster." 1 took Vi- 
vienne’s hand. He was right—the water 
seemed to be spreading very slowly. 
Then I saw that he was looking not at 
the small flood but at the cage. The 
lions had p: ked into rebellion. 

Inside the bars was a massive confu- 
sion of bodics, a scrimmage of giants. One 
lion, тоя reared- above the others. 
Tails whipped the bars. The band had 
stopped playing and had fled. We were 
left with the sound of people crying out, 
aring of beasts, the suddenly loud 
5 of the surf. The old man next 
to me was on his feet. He was point 


at the cage and, strangely, shou 
something at Kunz the clown, who had 
not lelt with the others. "Ravidac! At- 
tention!” were the words I caught. 


Vivienne gasped and caught my arm. 
Then I, тоо, saw it—Farzan's limp arm 
beneath the haunches of one of the lion: 
In the next instant, the 
clown. with something like a broomstick 
n his hand, going into the safety cage. 
"Oh, no!" said Vivi He's insane.” 

Of course ће was. The whole bigcat 
act depended on clockwork timing and 
everything happening in its right order. 
In a moment, the scared lions would 
pull them both to pieces—but no. The 
down seemed to be working them some 
how. just with his puny stick. Desperate 
ly, 1 thought, “He's seen it a 
times before; he must 


we watched 


something" Now he was talking to 
them, stepping adroitly into available 


openings, making them move. The pa- 
thetic victim-clown turned, miraculously, 
tall and commanding. 

I never saw what prods or tricks he 
used, but all at once, whatever they were 
began to work. “Look, look," Vivienne 
stid—a lion, belly down and appear 
ing to mutter in its beard, was slip- 
ping into the п that led from the 
cage. Another followed. The rest of them 
retreated, jostling to get back into their 
sequence around the edges of the cage. 
And then it was over quickly as the file 
of beasts moved without trouble into 
the runway. 

е was sobbing. In the empty 
tent, quiet except for the background of 
surf, her crying sounded very distinct 
nd musical. I put my arm 
Two of the circusmen came in and carc- 
fully helped Tarzan out of the 
had some blood on him, but he seemed 


Vivie 


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237 


PLAYBOY 


238 


to have escaped anything serious In a 


moment, he was sitting up in a chair, 
wiping himself with 2 towel. We went 
down to the ring, the three of us. 

Now that it was over, I almost wanted 
to laugh. It was too much. The little 
clown, in a moment of panic, playing the 
hero. Pratfall, horror show and then the 
grandiose, corny climax of melodrama. 
Bur the worst of all ironies was that 
the great rescue scene had been played 
fier the audience had departed, the 
instant of glory before an empty house. 

The old man in the cloak had walked 
up to the clown and was bowing. "Mon- 
sieur Ravidac, accept my congratu 
on one of your finest. perform 
said, "just as in the old days.” 

The clown looked at him. 11 
noticed before that Kurz’s eyes wi 
oddly, а pure, bright blue. “I am Kunz 
the clown. [ know nothing of any 
Ravidac," he said in a humble old m; 
voice. 

“What's all this 
п asked from his ch; 
ng some kind of 
course, 
past 


т. "Are you mak- 
comparison? Of 


we all know that name from the 


“Roger! How many times do I ha: 


point when you're speaking?!" 


"But this is Ravid. the old man 
said, turning. "The greatest of all lion 
tamers. As а boy. 1 saw him many times 
at the Cirque. d'Hiver and at other 
places. Fd know that style anywhere. 
I used to have his picture pinned on 
my wall.” 

“I never heard of him. I ат named 

Kurz" said the clown in a dull voice of 
sel f-abasement. 
You handled the lions like a master,” 
said Tarzan. “Only who... but 
let it pass. If you say that you are Ku 
the clown, then it is true. A mi an be 
hat he wants to be.” 

Nevertheless,” said the old man in 
the cloak, “we have witnessed а perform- 
ance that only Ravidac could provide. T 
do not dispute your name, monsicur 
but"—he slowly took off his beret and 
turned to the empty seats—"I salute the 
spirit of the great Ravidac one last 


п 


Ravidac is dead," the clown said 
with a sudden arogance. Then, with a 
listless clown shuflle, he walked out of 
the tent. 

А pallid late sun had appeared in the 
west when the car, The 


we went to 


ле to tell you not to 


empty parade ground looked like a huge 
broken miror reflecting the light in 
pieces. Now that the rain had stopped, 
the worst of the river's flood seemed to 
be stanched. It 1 fallen back to its 
normal banks and its noise had lessened, 

Driving back, we suddenly found all 
tension gone; we d, laughed, inter 
rupted as if we were children excited by 
our first circus. 

‘OL course he is Rav 
said. "Don't you sce th 
bogus that it must be true?’ 

“Nonsense,” I said jokingly. “He is a 
old clown named Kurz. For years he has 
dreamed of being the great lion tame: 
Alone in his tent midnight, he has 
practiced every move of his hero. He has 
lived on the crazy thought that someday 
his moment would come. 

“Oh, but you are wrong,” she said, 
pinching my arm. "Don't you see? The 
famous performer realizes at last that he 
beginning to falter, His retirement i 
anounced. But when the time come: 
he finds that he can't imagine life outside 
the circus. He changes his name, learns 
the clown جم‎ 

"But the noble motive? The tragic 
theme?" I asked. “To rise to the heights 
of purest claptrap, the story must have 
something moral about it. 

“Bien sity,” she saîd. "And it is а very 
sad one, ol couse. The great show is 
dying. The days of the circus are over. A 
few shabby companies still appear in 
the little country towns. The once-great 
Ravidac, hidden under the name Kurz, 
expresses all his despair in the humili. 
tion of the clown. He enfolds the tragedy 
of the circus within his own soul and 
three times a d matinees and су 
ning. hc is mocked and th murdered 
symbolically,” 

“Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo 
ато!” 


ienne 


П sounds so 


rout 


amore in- 


we seemed to 
ing clichés of our 
нім we made long, good- 
Afterward, op 
the doors and stood on the balcon 
ing the keen cast wind and lo 
the scatter of diamonds that 
Monte Carlo and Nice. The n 
ing, the wind veered and c 
from the south. The ја 
like blue snow against the blue sky and 
the jasmine on the furry trunks of the 
palms smelled very fr 

We went to the baleony again 
Vivienne spoke to the horizon. “I salute 
the spirit of the great Ravidac one last 
time." 
Because he tamed two 
asked. 

“And also because he has provided a 
comedy 10 make two children happy,” 


she said, 


forget all 


we 


sh. 


nd 


nimalsz" I 


YOU'LL LEUTE YOU'LL 


editing copy. The writers are still on the 
telephone or typing. A bank of lights is 
suddenly turned on overhead, The two 
the far row of desks get 
n comes over and tidies up 
т desks. Another wom- 
an is taking the sheets of copy from in 
front of Cronkite and feeding them into 
the prompting machine, an ingenious 
device that has also been moved onto 
the floor, beside one of the cameras, and 
which consists of a TV camera that trans- 
mits cach page of copy ошо а ТУ screen 
attached to the large camera that’s now 
facing Cronkite, w by an arrange- 
ment of mirrors, is displayed the type- 
written copy, complete with lastminute 
corrections, directly оп the lens of the 
camera that Cronkite looks into. A third 
woman comes in with a tray of make-up, 
which she puts down on the desk behind 
Cronkite, which has been entirely cleared 
Three min- 


writers in 
up. А wom: 
the surface of th 


cts up and gocs into Midg- 
Vhat about Kalb?" he says. 
g by,” says Midgley. 
alb," says Socolow. 
Midgley looks at Cronkite. "Well, we 
don't need it,” he says. “Let's dump it’ 
“Two minutes" somconc calls. Cron 
kite goes back to his desk. He puts on his 


(continued from page 102) 

jacket, opens a drawer of his desk, takes 
ош a pair of glasses, puts them on. The 
woman is dabbing his face slightly with 
make-up. The last two writers have got- 
ten up and are standing out of the w 
Cronkite is sitting down now. Socolow 
goes over, puts a piece of paper on his 
desk. Cronkite is working on it. On 
Midgleys screen, there is the familiar 
clatter of the wire-services machine 
voice says, "And now, from our news- 
room in New York, the CBS Evening 
News with Walter Cronkite.” Cronkite 


still we 
closes the door to his office. Socolow 
sits in а chair by the telephone. А g 
ts on the couch with a clipboard. The 
newsroom is bright with lights. Оп the 
scr Cronkite looks up and, without 
missing a beat, moves into the opening 
rhythms of the evening news. 


America, there are 


morning There is news 
a Afternoon newspap Evening 
The 11 O'clock News. The 

Eyewitness Ne Action 


- Newsmagazincs. Newsletters. Five 
Two minutes of news. 


Round-the«lock news. Cronkite. Brink- 
ley. The News of the Week in Review. 
Harry Dalrymple wrapping thin; 
the news desk at station КРСТ 
so this Wednesday, November 
third. . . 

One thing is dear: Americans are get 
ting an awful let of news be 
them, printed for th 
cars, tossed into the mailbox. Another 
thing also seems clear: Ge 
ing, news is supposed to be a good thing. 
Television stations announce. pridefully 
that they are expanding their 30-minute 
news show to a full hour, Networks t 
expensive ads in newspapers in order to 
proclaim their total number of news 
hours. People talk of hard news and soft 
news. Radio in many cases has expanded 
its news coverage to a full 24 hours: the 
all-news station. News is a meliorative 
word these days. A meliorative concept. 
Many print ads are now presented in 
the form of news reports. Sports IHlustrat- 
п taking ads in newspapers to 
note itself as the "third newsmaga- 
" Opposed to news, which is good, 
there п, which is 
biased and unreliable; and analysis, which 
is intellectual: and criticism, which is 
self-serving and unconstrucüve; or fic 
tion, which is irrelevant. 

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239 


PLAYBOY 


amount and velocity of news communi- 
cation, then it must also be true that 
something is seriously wrong with our 
news-commt ion services, becau: 
as а nation (and also as states, as town- 
ships as individuals), we keep getting 
oursclves to such serious messcs— 
messes that result in good part, anyway, 
from our having been told the wrong 
thing or from our having an evidently 
complex situation communicated to us in 
a simplistic way, which in effect amounted 
to our being told the wrong th 

Consider the classic commu 
debacle: Vietnam. T 
everybody has the message about Viet- 
nam. 115 a lousy war, right? We had no 
business going in there, right? Or, if we 
did, it certainly all went wrong and we 
should have pulled out. Right? But 
what, one asks, was the news іп 1964? 
Or 1965? Or 1966? Or 1967? Or even 
much of 19687 That is a long, long 
time, and there was a lot of news. To be 
sure, one understands what happened. 
The Government said 
were true that were not always true. 
Americans have generally heen brought 
up to have faith in their Government, Be- 
sides, for a generation we have been ex- 
horted to fight communism there, and 
there, and there . . . so why not there? 
One understands, Last year, I think, 
Cronkite declared in a magazine article 
that he had come round from being a 
moderate hawk on the war to wishing us 
out of it, to being a dove. Recantations 
over the Vietnam war somchow have a 
curious ring—as if the process of learning 
were more important than ihe thing 
learned, which is sometimes truc and 
sometimes not. Walter Cronkite recants; 
Pete McCloskey recants; 203,000,000 
Americans recant. But from what to 
what? And what is it they were told all 
those years by all that news? 

Consider some of the other matters 
that have resulted in the country’s expe- 
riencing the real and severe malaise that 
it is surely now experiencing—and will 
obviously have to live with and sufler 
with for some time to come. Consider 
the most important and troubling of all 
our problems: race. Black and white. 
Black versus white. Segregation. Integra- 
tion. Whatever yd Ш iı. What was the 
news on that? Until Dr. king and 
nd Liule Rock and the 
n ol the University of Georgia and. 
Medgar Evers and Selma and all the 
other far-off, seemingly long-ago events, 
what was the news telling us? Joe Louis, 
the Brown Bomber? Race riots іп De- 
шой? Harry Truman integrating the 
Amed Forces? When the newsabsorb- 
ing public woke up one mor to 
find the National Guard rumbling mio 
lage square, or Watts aflame, or 
me frightened school kids being turned 


tion 


у, of course, 


cert 


some vi 
5 


240 away from, or thrust into, some school— 


ihe map? How good was the map? 


Pollution. Ecology. Did nobody look 
at Lake Eric until 19677 1 read іп thc 
paper that а large metals smelter on the 
West Coast. filed suit with the Gov- 
cmment, protesting that, if forced to 
comply with a certain. pollution ruling 
by a certain date, it would be driven 
perilously close to bankruptcy. The с: 
ecutives of the company doubtless have 
а point, So, doubtless, do the citizens of 
the nearby town who have been choking 
on smelter gases for the past—well—how 
many years What did the news tell 
them about that? Where were these citi- 
zens on the map? 

Do 1 seem to be saying that our news 
systems—our network news, our пемер; 
ctc —have served us badly? In fact, 
k that is only incidentally so. 1 
think it is indeed true that, as in the 
case of Vietnam, a highly complex polit- 
ical situation was treated for many years 


by television news as a largely military 
operation—the dr 
ee 


ic battle for Hill 
па so forth. Not only that, but the 
whole war was presented to us in isol 
ed, disconnected bits of detail—a 30-sec- 
ond bombi raid here, 
film dip of Khe Sanh there, 
minute of President Johnson at 


nother 
the 
Manila Conference, 30 seconds of a heli- 


ault—with the result that, 
even if we had been given ihe r 
information we needed to try to come to 
terms with the war, the way we were 
ven it made it doubly dillicult. 1 think 
it’s rue that. television. news is usually 
superficial. 1 think it’s true that most 
news is superficial. 1 think there are a 
lot of things wrong with all the news 
systems, ahi 
more than chopped-up wire-service copy 
(already chopped up) and then burbled 
onto the airwaves by a recommissioned 
disc jockey. Television news is also usu- 
ally chopped up. And superficial. And 
tends to get ils big ideas Irom news 
papers. Newspapers, with a couple of 
exceptions, are often mind-blowingly 
rochial. Newsmagazines are less paroch 
al, but only one 50th of the people in this 
county buy them and, cven so, they 
mostly follow certified events, like every- 
one else. 

Yet, h 


copter as 


Radio news 


s more to the point: 1 
ik the people of this country, i 
мау, get better than they deserve 
their news systems. Network news may be 
superficial, and it may have a slight 
astern bias, but—considering that it 
some kind of businesslike 


has to hav 
relationship with its audience—the TV 
people put out a basically high level of 
altemoon newspaper. Better, anyway, 
than most afternoon newspapers. Morn 


ing newspapers vary hugely, and some 
are little more than paste-ups of the A. P. 
and the U.P.I. and a couple of syndi- 
cated columnists; but the A. P. and the 
U.P.L, despite their haste and super- 
ficiality, manage to move an awful lot of 
stuff in a given day, manage to tell this 
country bout. itself chan is 
true of most other countries. 

The problem is, I think, that our 
concept of news is increasingly fake, and 
that is what is serving us badly. This 
news, of which network X is going to 
give us 45 minutes more this year than 
last, may not be as useful a thing as we 
consider it to Бе, This news, which our 
newspapers take such pride in bringing 
us, and propose, in fact, to bring us more 
of, perhaps isn't as good a thing as we 
say, as we think it to be. Consider, for 
cxample, the thrust of change that has 
swept through virtually cvery aspect of 
modern life. Religion. Sex. Clothes. Con- 
sider the change that has swept through 
art forms. Look at the novel, which has 
always becn a form of news, and observe 
its inner changes. How in the 18th Cen- 
news of adventure, of the 
great migrations from the country to the 
city, the churning of urban and rural 
classes, Clarissa, Smollett, Defoe. How in 
the 19th Century it changed to provide 
the news of the new middle class, the 
manufacturing class, the new world of 
Dickens, George Eliot, Arnold Bennet, 
William Dean Howells. It told readers 
about the new people, how they lived, 
what they wore, how vicars had tea, what 
lawyers did at the office, all that furni- 
ture. And the 20th Century movel— 
while admittedly struggling with the 
furniture-describing heritage of the 19th, 
not quite sure where it’s going, finding 
narrative shot away by movies and 
ТУУШ moves toward telling us what 
we intuitively need to know about our 
world, about the inside of people's 
heads (no longer furniture), about how 
men and women are in bed together, 
how they really are, how, at any rate, 
they think they are. 

But news—newspapers, TV news, 
wireservice news—is still telling us of 
plane crashes. Hotel fires The minister 
from such and such said this and that to 
soand-so. A strike. A flood. 
" “SOCIALITE NABS BANDIT." 
And it does that bec. nk 
we want that: fires, strikes, plane crashes, 
Hub man kills three, And the reason we 
t we 
bout news as 
we allege. Or look at it this way: We sa 
we're serious about. news, so right away 
CBS and ABC and NBC and The New 
York Timesand Time 
all the rest of the 
with news—but 
out to be the wrong news. It doesn't— 


HUB MAN 
KILLS THREE! 


se we seem to thi 


The principle is the same. 


The potential 


Start with an inquiring mind. Add a passion for making 
things work. Then combine these qualities with a love of 
machines and a craftsman's hands, and you've got a natural 
born mechanic. 

When the Air Force gets hold of a guy like that, they'll 
spend thousands of dollars to train him to be a master at 
his skill. And from automotive repair to computer mainte- 
nance, the skills the Air Force teaches can be as valuable 
out of the service as in it. 

What are you interested in? Whether you know for sure 
or not, you've got to be interested in what an Air Force 
skill can mean to your future. And right now, as a special 
incentive, your local Air Force recruiter has a selection of 
jobs chat he can guarantee you before you enlist. You just 
make your choice, and the skill of your life is locked in 
your future. 

One more good reason to go Air Force is the recent pay 
raise that almost doubles your starting salary as an airman. 

For more information, mail in the coupon. Or, call 


different. 


800-631-1972 toll free for the address of your nearest Air 
Force representative. 

Let the Air Force take your potential and make the most 
of it 
"In New Jersey call 800-962-2803 


ТЕ 1-P-52] 
| Us. AIR FORCE RECRUITING SERVICE 

| DIRECTORATE OF ADVERTISING (АРУ) | 
| RANDOLPH AIR FORCE BASE | 
| TEXAS 78148 | 
| ке | 
| | 
| High School | 
| Айше Ж І 
| City. — Suate. Zip. | 
| Phone. Date of Birth | 
| T understand there is no obligation. | 
L m zl 


Find yourself in the Air Force. 


PLAYBOY 


242 


appareniy—much help us. Tt rarely tells 
us whi ly аге, because history is 
ring on our doorstep 
Y where 
our map said we were. Admitredly, there 
p news system one can conceive of 
t would provide us all with perfect 
ps but our maps are so inaccurate, 
and require so much trouble, and te 
and often bloodshed to correct 
Clearly. the news we siy we want is 
the old news. It somehow makes us feel 
to read about а plane crash off 
pam. It connects us to some ancient 
folk need, and maybe that is very strong, 
too strong, and maybe Armageddon. will 
+ mysteriously one afternoon. havin 
o less (һап four asso- 
іс professors in Denver. 
nory and the Berkeley 
the people of the том adv 
in the world are still reading about 
а bus accident in Rangoon. Or Rome. 
Or Rochester, New York. Ws perfectly 
ikely—or so it seems to me—that we're 
never going to get a useful news system. 
In Таст, in my darker moods. I сап well 
ic a situation developing in which 
the people of this country get so ощ of 


еме 


nd telling us were nowhere ne 


ood 


foretokl by 
Swiss ob- 


Barb, while 
anced nation 


ch with what is actually going on 
th the surface that real trouble 
ts, real trouble, and repression 


\ 


“Bul, K. M.— 


results, real repression (it ce 
wouldn't be the first such cycle 
tory). and then. when the tanks are in 
place, and the guards are at their posts, 


nd the t time, and loud 
speakers, or perhaps TV sets, are at the 
seer corners—then we will have, or 


news system that finally will 
attuned to the situation. 


he given, 
be properly 
Relevant. 
Bur now, in the meam 
might at least be worth 
this much aloud: The news we congratur 
lue ourselves on receiving, the news 
that our news systems congratulate 
themselves on transmitting, while allow. 
ing that in a more pefea world they 
would n ly 
they could, if only they had a half hour 
minutes, 50 minutes i 
ra whole hour, a 
whole day. maybe, a whole week of — 
what? Folk ent ment. What? you 
say. Police-bribe scandal, rape, drowning 
entertainment? I guess so, Two min- 
tes of combat film Пот Vietnam— 
cutertainment? 1 gues so—although 
maybe describing it as providing a kind 
of release, while giving the illusion of 


me, T think it 
while saying 


ismit more of it lor us i 


instead of 15 
stead of а half ho 


pvolvement. would be doser то it, The 
news we get. D think, is mostly. this 
release, this kind of entertainment, no 


е сап! do a commercial that’s not false, 


misleading or deceptive.” 


matter how grisly the subject, how much 
we even may weep at the result, We 
don't get it that way because they give it 
10 us, nor because they are bad. We get 
it that way because we wane it so. We 
call. they respond. Good luck, 1 say, to 
all of us. 


ning News goes on thi 


on the screen. He is winding up the 
taping. A commercial. During the com- 
mercial, Socolaw steps into the news- 
room, whispers something 10 Ci 


The commercial is over. 
Cronkite is shuffling his papers. "And 
that's the way it is^ he says. The famil 
ar inflection, "Wednes- 
third," End. People 
A writer 


Steps ош agair 


E 


sis back down at his desk. Cronkite 
walks into. Midglev's office. Sits down in 
a chair. wish we could have done 


more with Kalb.” he savs. 

“We couldn't reach Kalb me 
savs Midgley. The Cronkite shaw is now 
on the ай. Cronkite is on the third 
screen. Chancellor on the second. Rea- 
soner on the top. Cronkite and. Midgley 
watch the three screens. NBC. comes on 
with someth China, Midgley 
turns up the NBC 

Cronkite 


still day 


three 


says. “We're 
ahead of them." The 
сапу the same report Treasury 
Scerctary Connally. Commercials, NBC 
amd CBS have something on the dock 
strike. ABC is covering Lindsay. 

Chancellor sits on his studio chair. 
ched, helpful. He runs through four 


networks 


quick items. Cronkite's face oncimera is 
backed by what seems to bc а тар of 
Viennam. He tells us again һе 
DMZ. Then Dan Rather. Washington 
The monetary crisis. Reasoner speaks 
bout a copper crisis in Chile. Midgley 


sips another milk shake. Cronkite sits 
his chair. swiveling it a bit from time to 
time. Then NBC comes on with its 
finale. a thing about the departure. of 
the Washington Senators. La 

Arty camera shots of the em 

“Jesus Christ” says Midgley. Ther 
Cronkite is saying good night. Chancel- 


lor. Howard K. Smith, Good night, good 
night. The saipt girl doses her 
sheet. The screens are dark, Mi 
stands. He has a dinner to get to. 
Кис seems in э hurry to le; 
suenhes his legs. His brow f 
Midgley looks at him, on his way 


TONS. 
out. 


ve o be uptown by seventh 


Cronkite looks at him. “You know. 
he sas. “the thing that really breaks my 
heart is we never have enough timc. 
Cronkite waves his hand. M 


out the door, 


17 mg. "tar." 1.2 mg. nicotine av. per cigarette, 
FTC Report Aug. 71. 


PLAYBOY 


24 


TERMINAL MAN 


of control A 
ders would probably end up shooting 
Benson, or trying to. And she didn’t 
want that 

"But vou know what else?” Benson 
said. "The buzz is only nice occasio 
ly. When it gets too heavy, йз... 
suflocating.” 

“Is it getting heavy now?” 

Yes," he said. And he s 

She was stunned at the т 
her own helplessness. Everything she had 
been taught about controlling pat 
everything about directing the flow of 
thought, about watching the speech pat 
terns, was useless here. Verbal maneuvers 
would not work, would not help her—any 
more than they would help control a 
rubies victim or a person with a brain 
tumor. 

There was only one thing she could 
do and that was get him to the hospital. 
How? There might still be some small 
chance to appeal to his intellectual func- 
ions. "Do you understand what's hap- 
pe Hany? ‘The stimulations are 
overloading уоп, push to 
seizures.” 

“The feel 


an awesome thing. 


you i 


"5 


s not always 


е 


“No, not alw. 
Е dont you want 10 have that 
тшс, so that you don't have 


м" 


“ГИ call you later, Mom. Arthur needs me. 


(continued from page 170) 


scirwres anymore?” She had 10 choose 
her words carefully. 

“You think I need to be fixed 
voice was an imitation of Elli 
surgeon's pet phrase 

"Harry. we сап make you есі better 
feel fine, Dr. Ross." 
But, Harry, when you went to Ange- 

ter you left the hospi 
don’t remember anything about 
that, Memory tapes are all erased. Noth- 
ng but static. You can put it on aud 


if you w nd listen to it уоште! 


His 
the 


nt 
He smiled, opened his mouth and made 


а hissing sound. “See? Just static 

Her stomach was churning. She was 
physically sick with tension. And she 
^ 


s also angry at the thought of Ellis 
nd MePherson—all 
with them when she h 
planting 


those conferences 
I argued that 
machinery imo Benson 
ic his pre-existing delu- 
7 They hadn't paid 


i 
would e: 
sional st 
tion. She wished thev were here now. 


“You're 
achine, 


uy into a 


rm 


ng to make me 
id. “You all arc. 


“Let me finish” Mis face was taut; 


ibruptly, it loosened into а smile, An- 
other stimulation, she thou They 
were coming only minutes ара А 


Where was Anders? Where was any- 
body? Should she run om into the hall, 


screaming? Should she try to call the 
hospital? The police? 

It feels so good,” Benson said, still 
hat feeling, it feels so good. 
g feels as good as that. 1 could 
just swim in that feeling forever and 
ever.” 

She took a deep breath. “Harry,” she 
said, "I want you to come back to the 
hospital, We care about you. 

"You care about me” He laughed, 
nasty hard sound. “You don't care about 
те. You care about your experimental 
preparation. You care about your scien 
tific protocol. You спе about your fol 
low-up. You don't care about me.” He was 
becoming excited and angry. “It won't 
look so good in the next journal article 
if you have to report, so many patients 
observed for so many years and one died 
because he went nuts and the cops killed 
him. That will reflect badly. 1 


пот" 


Benson said. Не held out his hands. “I 


look at the nails. 
bandages, "The оре 
to work,” he said. 

And th 
ay. His face was bland, but the 
rolled down his cheeks. “It isn’t work- 
ing" he said. “I don’t understand, it 
isn't working. . . < 

Equally abruptly, he smiled. Another 
stimulation. This one had come less 
than а minute after the previous onc. 
She knew that he'd rip over in the next 
few seconds, “I don't want to hurt ai 
one,” he said, smiling cheerfully. 

“Let's go back to the hospital. ТЇЇ go 
with you. ГИ stay with you all the 
time.” 

“Don't argue with me!” He sn 
w his feet, fists clenched, and glared 
down at her. “I will not list He 
broke off but did not smile. Instead, he 
began to swift the “What js that 
L “1 hate that smell, What 
is it, 1 hate it, do you hear me, I hate i 

He moved toward her, sniffing. He 
reached his hands out toward her. 

She got up off the couch, mov 
away. He followed her clumsily, his 
hands still outstretched. “I don't want 
this feeling. I don't want it,” he said. He 

no longer snilling. F 
blank, an automaton mask. 


wt wor 


ped 


face w 
His 


ns 
were still extended toward her. He al 


most seemed 10 be sleepwalk 
adv 


ng as he 
need on her. His movements w 


slow and she was able to back am 
from him, 

Then, suddenly, up a 
heavy glass ashtray at her. 


She dodged it; it struck one of the lage 
windows, shattering the glass, 

He leaped for her and threw his 
arms around g her in a 
clumsy bear hug. He squeezed her with 

edible strengu she gasped, 


A good way to cut yourself less 
is to lubricate more. 


Edge lubricates better than foam. Any foam. 


Shave cream helps protect you from nicks and 
cuts by lubricating the blade's path across your skin. 
We made Edge” a lubricating gel instead of a foam, 
because as a gel Edge gives you much more 
lubrication than foams. But Edge isn't greasy. 

With Edge, to cut yourself you almost have to try. 


Edge starts as a gel made of But underneath the lather, the 
soap that puts down a lubricating layer ‘Then the gal quickly turns into gel's lubrication is still on your skin gliding 
оп your skin. lather that's richer and wetter than any foam the razor for a smoother, closer shave. 
to setup your beerd for a close shave. 


ark 1971 S. C. Johnson & Son, Racine, Wisc. 


PLAYBOY 


246 Her vision came back to her slowly 


"Harry." She looked up at his face and 
saw it was still blank. 

She kneed п the testicles. 

He gruntcd and released her, bending 
at the waist, coughing. She moved away 
from him, picked up the phone and 
dialed the operator. Benson was still 
bent over, still coughing. 

“Operator, 

“Do you want the Beverly Hills police 
or the Los Angeles police?” 

^I don't сат!" 

“Well, which do you ——" 

She dropped the phone. Benson was 
stalking her again. She heard the tinny 
voice of the operator saying, "Hello, 
hello..." 

Benson tore the phone away and 
flung it across the room. He picked up a 
floor lamp and held it, base outward. 
He began to swing it in huge hissing 
arcs. She ducked it once and felt the gush 
of air in the wake of the heavy metal 
base. If it hit her, it would kill her. The 
realization pushed her to action. 

She ran to the kitchen. Benson 

dropped the lamp and followed her. She 
iore open drawers, looking for a knife. 
She found only a small paring knife. 
Where the hell were her big ves? 
Benson was in the Кӣ 
pot at him, blindly. Ti clattered against 
knees. He moved forward. 
The detached and academic part of 
her mind was still operating, telling her 
g a big mistake, that 
there was something in the kitchen she 
could usc. But what? 

Benson's hands closed around her neck. 
The grip was terrifying hbed his 
wrists and. tried to pull them away. She 
kicked up with her leg, but he twisted his 
body a from her, then pressed her 
back against the counter, p her 
к. 

She could not move, she could not 
breathe, She began to see blue spots 
before her cyes. Her lungs burned for 
air. Her fingers scratched along the 
counter, feeling for something, anything, 
to strike him with. She touched nothing. 

She flung her hands around wildly. 
She felt the handle of the dishwasher, 
the handle of the oven. Her vision was 
greenish. The blue spots were lager. 
They swam sickeningly before her. She 
was going to die in the kitchen. 

The kitchen, the kitchen, dangers of 
the kitchen, 

Microwaves. It came to her in а flash, 
just as she was losing consciousness, 
She no longer had any vision: the world 
was dull gray, but she could still feel. 
Her fingers touched the metal of the 
oven, the glass of the oven door. She 
d it; then ир... up to the con- 
. . she twisted the dial... . 

Benson screamed, 

The pressure around her neck was 
gone. She slumped to the floor. Benson 
was screaming, horrible, agonized sounds. 
nd 


she saw him, standing over her, clutching 
his head in his hands. He twisted and 
writhed, howling like a wounded animal. 
Then he rushed from the room. 

And she slid smoothly and easily into 
unconsciousness. 


уш 


The bruises were айсайу forming— 
long, purplish welts on both sides of her 
neck, Janet Ross touched them gently as 
she stared into the mirror. 

"When did he leave" Anders said. 
He stood in the doorway to the bath- 
room, watching her. 

"E don't know. About the time E passed 
out, I think. 

He looked back toward the living 
тоот. "Quite a mess out there. Why did 
he attack you? You're his doctor- 

“That doesn’t matter," said. 
"When he a seizure, he's out of 
control. He'd kill his own child during a 
seizure. People have been known to do 
that" She sighed, still touching the 
bruises. They would get much worse in 
the next few hours, What could she do 
bout it? Rouge? A high-necked sweat- 
е? “He didn't kill me. But he would 
have,” she said. 

What happened?” 

“I turned on the oven.” 

Anders looked puzzled. 
for epilepsy?" 

“Hardly. But it affected Benson's elec- 
tronic machinery. I have a microwave 
oven, Microwave radiation screws up pace- 
making m l's a big problem 
for ca Dangers of 
the kitchen. There have been a lot of 
recent articles,” 

He left the room to make some calls 
while she changed, She chose a black 
turtleneck sweater and a gray skirt and 
stepped back to look at herself in the mir- 
ror. Maybe too somber, but the bruises 
€ hidden. She went into the kitchen to 
make herself a Scotch on the rocks—and 
s she poured it, she saw the long scratches 
the wooden counter that her fing 
nails had left. She looked at her finger- 
nails. Three of them were broken; she 
hadn't noticed. before. 

She took the drink back into the living 
room. “Yes,” Anders was saying into the 
phone. "Yes, 1 understand. Мо... no 
idea. Well, we're trying." There was a 
long pause. 

She went to the window and looked 
out at the city. The sun was up, lighting 
а dark band of brown air that hun; 
above the buildings. It wa ly a lethal 
place to live, she thought. She should 
move to the beach, where the air was 
better. 

"Well, listen,” Anders said angrily, 
one of this would have happened if 
you'd kept that fucking guard at his 
door in the hospital. I think you better 
keep that i She heard the 
phone slam down. 
"Shit," he said. 


she 


"Is that а сиге 


mind." 


Pol 


cS, 


She smiled. “Even in the police de- 
partment?’ 

“Especially in the police department, 
he said. "Anything gocs wrong and sud- 
denly there's а scramble to see who cai 
get stuck with it.” 

“They're trying to stick you? 

“They're trying me on for size.” 

She nodded and wondered what was 
happening back at the hospital. Prob: 
bly the same thing. She looked through 
the shattered window glass. 

Anders said, “Listen, what does epilep- 
sy have to do with cardiac pacemakers? 

“Noth she said, "except that B 
son has а brain pacemaker, very similar 
to a cardiac pacemaker.” 

Anders flipped open his notebool 
“You beter start hom the beginning 
he said, “and go slowly. 

She set down her d 
onc call first, 

Anders nodded and sat back and wait- 
ed while she called McPherson. Then, as 
calmly as she could, she explained every- 
thing she knew to the policeman. 


1 


nk. “Let me ma 


McPherson hung up the telephone 
and glanced out his window at the morn- 
ing sun. It was no longer pale and cold; 
there was the full warmth of morning. 
“That was Ross" he said to Mor 
"Benson came to her apartment. She lost 
him.” Morris sighed. 

“It doesn't seem to be our day,” Ме 
Pherson said. He shook his head, not 
waking his eyes off the sum. "I don't 
be luck," he said. "Do you? 

"Sure. All surgeons believe in luc 

“L don't believe in luck,” McPherson 
repeated. “Never did. I always believed 
in planning.” He gestured to the charts 
on his wall, then lapsed into silence and 
stared a 


ve 


four feet across, 
many colors. They were really glor 
flow ch h timetables for rech 


ady 
them. For in 
ined the sta 
conceptualization, suigical technology and 
microelectronics and concluded that they 
would all come together to allow an oper- 
ation for psychomotor epilepsy in July of 
1971. They had beaten his estimate by 


Tour. оп», but it was still damned 
accurate. 
McPherson rubbed his eyes, wonder- 


ing when he would be able to sleep. He 
looked again at the charts. Everything 
had be ing so well. Electrode im- 
plantation ahead of schedule. Computer 
simulation of behavior almost m 
months ahead—but that, too, was ha 
ing problems. George and Martha pro- 
grams were behaving enatically. And 
Form Q? 

He shook his head. Form Q might 
never get olf the ground now, although 
it was his favorite project. It was dow 


gs are 


"Oh, yes, my whites are whiter and my colored thin, 


definitely brighter. Want to screw? 


247 


PLAYBOY 


248 


on the flow chart for 1979, with human 
appli beginning in 1986. In 1086 
he would be 75 years old—if he was still 
сш he didn't worry about that. It 
that in- 


Form Q was the logical outgrowth of 
all the work at the NPS. It began as а 
project called Е oticus, because 
it seemed so impossible. But McPherson 
felt certain that it would happen, be- 

sc it was so necessary. For one thing, 
it was a question of for another, a 
question of expen 

A modern electronic computer—say, a 
third-generation IBM digital computer— 
cost several million dollars. It drew an 
enc amount of power. Bt coi 
sumed space voraciously. Yet the largest 
computer still had the same number of 
rcuits as the brain of an ant. To make 
а computer with the capacity of a hu- 
man brain would require a huge sky: 
scraper. [ts energy demands would be 
the equivalent of a city of half a miltion, 

Obvious'y, nobody would ever пу to 
build such a using current 
technology. New methods would have to 
be found 
in McPherson's mind what id 
would be: living tissues. 

The theory was simple enough. 
computer, like a human brain, is com- 
posed of functioning units—litrle. flip- 
Hop cells of one kind or another. The 
size of those units had shrank enormous- 
ly over the years, It would continue to 
shrink as microelectronic techniques im- 


mous 


computer 


and there wasn't much doul 


ethods 


proved. Their power requirements would 
also decrease 

But the individual units would never 
become as small as а nerve cell, a neu- 
ron. You could pack a billion nerve cells 
into onc cubic inch. No hu i 
turization method would ever achieve 
that economy of space. Nor would any 
huma that 
operated on so little power as a nerve 
cell. 

Therefore: Make your computers from 
living nerve cells. It was already possible 
to grow isolated nerve cells in tissue cul- 
ture. It was possible to alter them аг 
ficially in different ways, In the future, it 
would be possible to grow them to specifi- 


un 


п method ever produce 


cation, to make them link up in specified 
ways. 
Once vou could do that, you could 


make a computer that was, say, six cubic 


feet in volume but contained thousinds 
of billions of nerve cells Its energy 
requirements would not be excessive; its 
heat production and waste products 
would be manageable. Yet it would be 
the most intelligent entity on the planet, 
by fur, Form Q. 


Preliminary work was already being 
done in а number of laboratories 
Gover units around 
country. 
But for McPhe: 
prospect was not 
ganic compurci 
product. Wh 
the idea of an org 
human brain. 

Because once you developed a new, 


nd 
the 


son, the most. exciting 
a superintelligent, or- 
That was just a side 
teresting was 
nic prosthesis for the 


iu 


et the record show that he got hit in the head.” 


organic computer—a computer composed 
of living cells and deriving energy from 
nated, nutrified blood—then you 
ıt it into a human being. 
And you would man with two 
brain 

What would that be like? McPherson 
could hardly imagine it, There were 
endless problems, of course, Problems: of 
interconnection, problems of location, 
speculative problems about competition 
between the old bra nd the new trans 
plant. But there way plenty of time to 
solve that before 1986. After all, in 1950 
most people still laughed at the 
going to the moon 

Form Q. It was only а м 
with funding, it would happen. 
had been convinced that it would hap: 
pen, until Benson left the hospital. That 
changed evervihi 

Ellis stuck his head 
t colle: 
McPherson 
over at Monis. 


the оћсе door. 


said. He looked 


No.” Morris said. He got up out of 
his chair, “I think TI replay some of 
Benson's interview tapes. 


McPherson said, thous! 


Good. idea, 
he did not really think so. He realized 
that Morris had to keep busy—had to 
anything, just to remain 


do somethi; 

active. 
Loris left, Ellis left a 

ith his multicolored cl 


id he was alone 


It was noon when Ross finished with 
Anders, and she was tired. The Scotch 
had calmed her, but it ha " 
her fatigue. She felt she had never 
been so tired in her life 

Anders, оп the other hand, was mad- 
deningly alert. He said, “Where wo 
Benson be likely to go now 

She shook her head. “It's impossib’e 
to know. He's now in a postseizure state 
—postictal, we «all tand аг not 


1 intensi 


predictable." God, she was tired. W 

couldn't he understand? "Benson is very 
confused. He's nearly psychotic; he's 
receiving stimulations frequently; he's 


having seizures frequently, He could do 


aything:” 


“These are the impossible one 


" An 


ders sighed and walked to the dow. 
“In another ci we might have a 
chance of findi him, but 1 in Los 
Angeles. Not in five hundred. square 


miles of city. It’s bigger than New York, 

Chicago, San Francisco and Philadelphi: 

put together. Did you know that?” 
"No," she said, hardly listening. 

Гоо many places to hide," he said. 
"Тоо many ways to escape—ioo mar 

roads, too many airports, too tm: 


һу mari- 
nas. If he's smart, he's left already. Gone 


to Mexico or to Canada. 


^ she said. 


*What will he do? 


she said. 
ht you 
avior," Anders. 


“He'll go back to the hospital. 
There was a pause. “I thou 
couldn't predict his bel 
said. 
115 just a feeling,” she said, "that's 


“We 
said. 


d better go to the hospi 


XI 
It was а broad, low-ccilinged, white 
tiled room, lit brightly by overhead flu- 
orescent lights. Six stainless-steel tables 
were set out in a row, each emptyin 
into a sink 


one end of the room. Five 
of the tables were empty; the body of 
^ 
lice pathologists and Morris were bent 
over the body as the autopsy proceeded. 

Morris was tired. His eyes hurt. After 
he left the autopsy room and 
went nest door to the police lab, where 
the contents of the girl's purse were 
spread out on a Large table. 

Thice men were at work, one identi 
fying the objects, one recording them 
and ihe third tagging them. Monis 
watched in silence, Most of the objects 
lipstick, compact, 
car keys, wallet, Kleenex, chewing gum, 
ballpoint pen, eye shadow, hair clip 
1 two packs of matches. 

Two packs of matches," one of the 
cops intoned. "Boh marked Airship 
Hotel." 

Morris sighed. He found the plodd 
routine was intolerable. Ross called it 
the surgeon's disease, the urge to take 
decisive action, the inability to wait pa 
tently. Once in an сапу NPS conler- 
enc, where they were considerin 
ze-three candidate, Morris had a 
strongly lor t her for surgery, even 
though she had several other problems. 
Ross had laughed: "Poor impulse con 
trol,” she had said 

Poor impulse control, he thought, The 
hell with her. 
ship. huh?" one of the cops said 
“Isn't that where all Ше stewardesses 
мау 

Monis hardly listened. He rubbed his 
eyes and decided to get more collee 
Hed been awake for 36 hours straight 
and he wasn't going to Fast much longer, 
He lelt the room and went upstairs 
looking for a tiee machine, “There 


la Black lay on the sixth. Two pe 


seemed commonplac 


sta ied 


must be colfee someplace іп the build- 
ing. And then he stopped, suddenly 
shiv 


He knew about the Airship. The Air 
ship was where Benson had first. been 
arrested, for beating up a mechanic. He 
glanced at his watch, and then went out 
to the parking dot. If he hurried, he'd 
beat rush-hour traffic to the airport. 


Morris parked in the lot of the Airship 
Hotel and walked into the lobby. He 
went directly to the bar, which was dark 


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PLAYBOY 


There 
cornea 


ly deserted at five rar 
were two stewardesses in a far 
talking over drinks, one or two busines- 
men seated at the bar and the bartender 
himself staring off vacantly into space. 

Morris sat at the bar, When the 1 
tender came over, he pushed Benson's 
picture across d “You ever 
scen this 

“Wha the bartender said. 

Morris tapped the picture. 

“This is a bar. We serve liquor.” 

Meo s beginning to feel strang 
Н was the sort of strange feeling he 
d when he began an operit- 
tion and felt like а зш movie. 
Something very theatrical. Now he was it 
“Hisa non," Mor- 
said. “I'm his doctor. He's very ill." 
What's h 
Morris 


Have you seen him 


Sure, lots of times. F 
Thats right. Harry 
the last time vou saw 
An hour The man shrugged 
“What's he got? 
“Epilepsy. 10% important to find him. 
Do you know where he went?” 
“Epilepsy? No shit” The ba 
picked up the picture and. examined. it 
closely in the light of a КИ 
sign. behind. the “Tha all 
right. But he dyed hi 
“Do yon know where he went?" 
There was a long silence. The bartend- 
looked grim. Morris instantly regretted 
his tone. “Youre no fucking doctor," th 
bartender said. "Now, beat it.” 
1 need your help Moris said. 
ime is very important.” As he spoke, 
he opened his wallet, took out 
cards, everything 


ту. right? 
Benson, When 


is iden- 


ards, cred 
an M.D. on it, He spre 
across the counter. The bartender didn't 
even glance at them, 

He is also wanted by the police, 


them 


“L knew it, render sail “1 
knew it.” 

And 1 can get some policemen down 
here to help question you. You may be 
irder.” Monis thought 


ided good. At least it 


sounded 


cards, pecred at it, dropped it. "I don't 
know. He left with Joc." 

“Who's Joc?” 

"Mechanic, 
ited Air 


Works 
Lines.” 


the dare shift at 


led the 
id got though the switchboard to 
п Anders. 


In the hotel lobby, Morris са 
NPS 


ік Morris. at the 


irport. 1 have а dead on Benson.” He 
we the details. 
There was а moment of silence. Mor- 


bblin; 
iders 


sound of a pen- 
sid "Well 


some GHS out ris 
went to the United hangars? 
"Probably." Morris sid goodbye im- 
nily and hung up. 


їн away. You think he 


pa 
"Ehe large sign read UNITED лік LINES— 
MAINTENANCE PERSONNEL ONLY, There was 
a guardhouse beneath the sign. Morris 
pulled up, leaned out of his car. 
1 Di. Morris. I'm looking for Joe. 
s was prepared to give a lengthy 
explanation. But the guard hardly paid 
tention. “Joe cime on about ten mir 
utes ago. Signed in to 


Mor 


ry 
pla gars, with parking lots 
behind. "Which one is seven? 

left." the guard siid. 
he went there, except 


ic 


Don’t know 
ауре the 


What guest? 


rd 


What's in seve 
“A big DGS that’s in for major over: 
I. Nothing doing there—they're w: 
a - IU be another 
amed to show it 


Morris drove past the. gates, onto ihe 


parking lot, and parked dose 10 hangar 
seven. He got out of the cr, then 
paused. The hangar was an ¢ 


conrugatedsteel structure that 
seem to hive any doors, except for the 
giant doors 10 admit the airplane, which 
were closed. How did you get in? Then h 
а normal-sized door to the far left. 

When he entered the hangar. it was 
pitch black inside. Aud totally silent. He 
Sood by the door for а moment, then 
heard a low g He ran his hands 
he walls. feeling Tor a 
ch. He touched a steel box, felt it 
carefully. T 


e were seal 1 
vy-dury switches. He threw them. 

One by one, the overhead lights 
on, very bright a 
the center of 
glimting with 
d bulbs. It 
scemed inside 
other sro; 


me 
wd very high. He saw in 
the hangar а giant plane, 
rellections from the over- 
was odd how enormous it 
a building. He heard 
1. but he could not determine 
where it was coming from. There wa 
ladder near the far wing. He walked 
toward it, beneath the high sleek tail 
assembly. The hangar smelled оГ gaso- 

nd grease, sharp smells, It was 


sa 


He walked faster, hi 
footsteps echoing in the cavernous han. 
space. The groan seemed to be com- 
ing from somewhere inside the airplane. 


He passed the two jet engines of the 
near wing. They were giant cylinders. 


thin black turbine blades inside. Funny 
the engines had never scemed so bi 
before, Probably never noticed. 

Still another groan. He reached the 
ladder and climbed up. Six feet in the 
hc came to 


5 


the w 


expanse of flat silver, nubbled with riv- 
cts. А sign read ster nene. There were 
spatters of blood by the sign. He looked 


across the wing and saw а man lying on 
his back, covered with blood. Morris 
moved toward him and saw that the 


man's face was horribly mangled; his 
arm was twisted back at an unnat 


ngle. 
He heard а noise far bel He 
spun. And then, suddenly, all the lights 


in the hı went out 

Moris hoze. He had a sense of total 
disorientation, of being suspended in air 
n vast and limitless blackness, He d 
not move. He held his breath. He waited. 

The injured man groaned again. 
There was no other sound. Morris knelt 
knowing why. Some 


down. not really 


Яя 


how he felt safer being close to the 
metal surface of the wing. He was not 
conscious of being afraid, just badly 


confused. 
Then, softly, distantly, came a laugh. 
And he began to be afraid. 
"Benson, ате уоп there? 
No reply. But footsteps, moving across 
quietly echo 


the conerete floor. Steady 


ing footsteps. 

“Harry. it’s Dr. Morris." Morris blinked 
his eves, trying to adjust to the darkness. 
It was no good. He couldn't see anything 
‘The footsteps came closer 

“Harty, 1 want to help yon” 
voice cracked. he spoke. His fear 
certainly conveyed to Benson. He dee 
ed to shut up. His heart was pounding 
and he was gasping for breath. 

The footsteps stopped. Perhaps Ben- 
son was giving up. Perhaps he had had 
stimulation, Perhaps he was changing 
his mind. 

A new sound: a me 


His 
was 
1- 


llic creak. Quite 


dose. Another acak. He was climbing 
the ladder. 
Morris was drenched with cold swea 


all. He wa 
membered 


He still could see nothing 
so disoriented he no longer 
where he on the wing. Was the 
lder in front of him or behind? 
Another creak. He vied to fix the 
sound. Tr was coming from somewhere in 
front of him. That mc Lacing 
the til, the rear of the wing. Facing the 
Мег. Another creak 

Benson would be on the wing soo 
What could he use for a weapon? Mor- 
ris patted his pockets. His clothes w 
soaked and cli with sweat. He had 
a mom t this was all 
ridiculous, that Benson was the patient 
and he was the doctor. Benson would 
to reason, Benson would do 
s told. Another creak 
А shoe! Quickly, he slipped off h 
show and апей the fact that it had a 
rubber sole. But it was better than noth- 
ing. He gripped the shoe tightly. held it 
above hi ady to sw 
а теша image of the beaten mech 
ic, the disigmed, bloody face. And he 


was 


L he wa 


5 he 


Er 
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suddenly realized that he was going to 
have to hit Benson very hard. as hard as 
he possibly could. He was going to have 
to try to kill Benson. 

There were no more creaking sounds, 
but he could hear the breathing. And 
then, distant at first but growing rapidly 
louder, he heard sirens. The police were 
creak 

Benson ping back down the lad- 
der. Morris breathed a sigh of reliel, 

Then he heard а peculiar scratching 
sound and [eh the wing beneath him 
shake, Benson had not climbed dow! 
He had continued to climb up and he 
was now standing on the win, 


Mor answered but didn't. 
He knew, th t Benson couldn't sec 
her. He wanted а voice. fix. Mor 


said nothing. 

“Dr, Morris? 1 want you 1 help me.” 

The sirens were louder each moment. 
Mortis had а momentary elation at the 
thought that Benson was going to he 
caught. This whole n would 
soon be over. 

“Please help me. Dr. Morris. 

Perhaps he was sincere, Morris thought. 
Perhaps he really meant it. If that. wei 
so, then, as his doctor, he had a duty to 
help him. Morris stood. “I'm over here, 
ow, just take it easy 


are 


Something hissed in the air. He 
coming before it hit. Then he 
felt agonizing pain in his mouth and 


jaw and he was knocked backward, roll- 
ing across the wing. The pain was awful, 
worse than anything he had ever felt. 

he fel. into blackness. It 
was not far to fall from the wing to the 
ground. ed oto take a dong 
time, It seemed to take foreve 


хп 


it seem 


Janet Ross stood outside the tr 


ment room in the 
watching through the sr 
dow. There were six people i 


ing care of Morris, clustered 
AH she could r 
1. He had one shoe on. T 
lot of blood: most of the EW people 
were spattered with i 

Standing outside with her, Anders 
1. "E don't have to tell you that I 
think Dr, Мені should have waited for 
the police. 


ally se 


"Bur the police didit cuch him.” she 
said, suddenly angry. Anders didn't un- 
derstand anything. He didn't under- 


stand how you could feel responsible for 
a patient, how you could wam to take 
e of somebody. 
“Morris didn't cuch 
ders said. 

The trearmentroom door opened. Ellis 
me out, looking haggard, unshaven, de- 
fcated. “Hes OK," he said. “Не won't 
¢ much to sty for a few weeks, but he's 


im, either," An- 


OK. They're taking him to sur 
to wire up his jaw and get all the teeth 
out.” He tumed to Anders. “Did they 
find the weapon: 

Anders nodded. 
lead pipe.” 

“He must have got it right in the 
mouth,” Ellis said. "But at Кач he 
didnt inhale any of the loose teeth. The 
lung films are clean." He put his arm 
round. Janet, “They'll fix him up." 

“What а 

The тесі 

“I wouldn't place bets 
shattered and the driv 
cn up into the substance of the brain. 
g CSF through the nostrils. 
Lot of bleeding and a big problem with 
encephalitis. He's on the critical list.” 

Janet walked with Ellis ош of the 
emergency ward toward the cafeteria, Ellis 
kept his arm around her shoulders. “This 
has turned into a mess,” he said. “But 
heyl get his jaw back together, He'll 
be fine. 

She shuddered. 


i 


ery now, 


‘Two-foot section of 


bout the other on 
Ellis shook his hi 
His nose 
asal bones wi 


піс?” ad. 


was 


The operation b at seven рм. 
Ross watched from the overhead. glass 
viewing booth as Mortis was wheeled 


into the OR and the plastic surgeons 
ed him. Bendixon and Curtiss were 
the procedure; they were both 
good plastic surgeons: They would fix 
him up as well as anybody possibly 
could. 

But it was still a shock to w 
gauze packs were taken алау 
from Monis face and the flesh exposed. 
The upper part of his face was normal, 
though pale. The lower part was a red 
mash, like butcher's meat. It was imposi- 
ble to find the mouth in all the redness. 

The were gowned and 
gloved, the instrument tables set in pos 
tion; the scrub nurses stood ready. The 
whole ritual of for 


ste 


surgeons 


surger 


1 ritual, she thought, 
so perfect that nobody 
know that they were operat- 
ing on a colleague. The ritual, the fixed 
procedure, was anesthetic for the sur- 


gcon, just as gas was anesthetic for the 
patient. 
хш 
As Ross approached the NPS, she saw 


that a duster of reporters had cornered 
s outside the building. He was an- 
ing their questions in ear bad 1 
mor: she head the words mind cont 
repeated several times. 

Feeling slightly guilty, she cut around 
to the far entrance and took the eleva- 
tor to the fourth floor, Mind control, 
she thought. The Sunday supplements 
а field 
there would be 


day with 


solemn editorials in the daily papers. 
and even more solemn editorials іп the 
medical journals, about the hazards of 
uncontrolled and irresponsible research. 
She could see it coming. 

The truth that everybody's mind 
as controlled and everybody was ghul 
for it. The most powerful mind control- 
lers in the world were parents and they 
did rhe most dam: Tr was usually 
forgotten. that nobody was born preju 
diced, neurotic or hung up; those trai 


required a helping hand. Of course, par- 
ents didn’t intentionally damage the 
children. They merely inculcated ап 


tudes that they felt would be important 
and useful. Newborn children were little 
computers waiting to be programmed. 
And they would (сата whatever thev 
were taught, from bad grammar to | 
attitudes. Like computers, they were ur 
discriminating. 

АП the important programming v 
finished by the age of seven. К 
attitudes, ethical an 
tudes, religious attitudes, national att 
tudes, The gyroscope was set and the 
children let loose to spin off on their 
predetermined courses. 

What about somet 
ventions? What 
meet somcoi 
4 in elevator? Passing on the lefi? 
Having your wincglass on the righ? 
Hundreds of little conventions that people 
need in order to stereotype social iner- 
action—take away any of them and you 
produce unbearable anxiety. People need 
mind conuol. They are hopelessly lost 
without it. 

But let a group of people try to solve 
the greatest problem in the world today 
uncontrolled wddenly 
there are shouts from all sides: mind 
rol, mind control! 

Ros got off at the fourth floor, 
brushed past several policemen in the 
hallway and went into her office. Anders 
жаз there, just hanging up the telephone 
and frowning. 

“We got our first break,” he said, 
TH be damned if 1 know what 
Benson's description and pictures 
being circulated downtown and some- 
body recognized him. 

Who?” 


sexual attitudes, 


ig as simple as cor 
shaking hands 
Facing for- 


bout 


en you 


means. 


stores 
tions on mm 
erered within cit ad they ad 
minister certain building codes. Benson 
came in to check specifications on а 
building. He wanted to review elect 
blueprints. Said he was an electi 
engineer amd produced some ideniilic 
tion, Well, apparently he gor them.” 
What are they foi 
“University 


Hospital, 
“He has the complete 


> 
>> 
т? 


253 


“Do ту arms go over or under, Mr. Jackson?” 


PLAYBOY 


тс hospital. Now, 
think of that 
"They stared 


what do you 


Her neck was hurting badly 
a headache. She 


had to get a 


t her, сапу 
nd some empty coffee cups. 


It seemed str 
derly should be doing cle; 
cred an elusive question 
n her mind, But she fett so ured, so 
able to think clearly that she g 
went into one of the treatment. rooms, 
closed the door, lay dow 
nation couch and w 


watched himself on 
the H-o'clock news, Tt was partly vanity 

bid curiosity 
erhard was also there. 


In the lounge, Elli 


slightly in rhe fading sunlight 
answered the questions of а 
reporters, Microphones were ja 


That pleased him. And he found his 
ізмеге reasoi 


“My wife does bird imitations. . . . Right now, she’s 
watching us like a hawk!" 


The reporters asked him about the 
it briefly 
Why was 


operation amd Һе cxplai 
but clearly. Then one as 


The р nswered, "suffers 
from intermittent attacks of violent. be- 
havior, He has organic brain di 
br 


No 
thought 
Is that common 
ated with violence? 
We don't know how common it 
Ellis said. “We don't even know 
common brain damage alone is. But our 
best estimates are that ten million Amer 
cans have obvious damage and five mil- 
lion more have a subtle form of it. 
“Fifteen million?” one reporter 


one could 


how 


said. 


"Thats one person in fourteen." 
he replied on 
rters of 


“Something like that, 
screen. “There are three qu 
a million people with cerebral 
There are over four million wi 
vulsive 
There are si 
dation. There may be 
and a half million w 
behavior disorders.” 
And all of these people are vi 

“No, certainly no. Bur an unusually 


s many as two 


ТӨЛЕМ 


high proportion of violent people, if 
you check them, have physical brain 
damage. Now, that shoots down a lot of 
theories about poverty and discrimin: 

ion and social injustice and social disor- 
ion. Those factors contribute to 
physical bi 
age is also a major factor. And you 
can't correct physical brain damage with 
social remedies.” 

There was a pause in the reporters’ 
questions. Ellis remembered the pause 
and remembered being elated by it. He 
ning: he was running the show. 

cn you зау violence" 

“L mean.” Ellis said, "attacks of un- 
pro violence initiated by single 
individuals, It's the biggest problem іп 
the world today, violence. And it's a 
huge problem in this country. In 1969, 
more Americans were killed or attacked 
in this country than have been killed or 
wounded in all the years of the Vietnam 
war. Specifically” 

The reporters were in awe 
had fourteen thousand, five 
hundred murders, thirty-six thousand, 
five hundred rapes and three hundred 
and, five hundred cases of 


ЕТІ 
violence, of course. 


and six thou 


aggravated assault, АШ together, a third 
of a million cases of violence. That 
doesn't include automobile deaths, and 


a lot of violence is carried out with cars. 
We had fifty-six thousand deaths іп 
autos and five million inj 
“You always were good w 
Gerhard droned. 
“Jes working, 
“Yeah, Flashy ghed. “Bat 
you have a sq untrustworthy look." 
“That's my normal look 
a reporter was 
these 
ee 
Ellis said. 


һ figures,” 


Ellis said. 


iv” 


isn't 


vellect 


“And you 
physical br 
“In large pat; 


figures 


“One of the 


clues that physical brain discase is in- 
volved history of violence in an 
individual. There are some famous cx- 
amples. Charles Whitman, who killed 


fifteei 
nant bra 


people im Texas, had a m 
п tumor and had told his psy- 
edly, months before, that 
he was having thoughts about cli 
the tower and shooting people. Richard 
Speck engaged in al episodes of 
brutal violence before he killed ci 
nurses. Lee Harvey Oswald 
attacked people, includi 
here are a third of a 
every year that are not so famous, We're 
g to conec that violent. behavior 
with suxzery. I think it’s a noble and 
important goal. 
“But isn’t that mind control? 
Ellis siid, "What do you call. compul- 
sory education through high  schoo!?” 
“Education, 


cases 


the reporter said. 


And that ended the interview. Ellis 
got up angrily. “That makes me look 
like a fool," he said. 


No, it doesn't," Anders, the сор, said. 


SATURDAY, MARCI 13, 1471: TERMINATION 


She was being pounded, beaten sense- 


less by brutal, ja blows. She rolled 


away and moaned. 

"Come on," Gerhard hissed, shaking 
her. "Wake up, Jan.” She opened her 
eyes. The room was dark. Someone 


was 
leaning over her. “Come on, come on, 
wake up.” 

She yawned. The movement sent усак 


h her neck. “What 


of pain down throu: 


isi 

"Telephone for you in Telecomp. 11% 
Benson.” 

That jolted her awake faster than she 
would have thought possible. Gerhard 
helped her sit up and she shook her 
head to clear it, Her neck was а column 
of pain and the rest of her body was still 
and aching, but she ignored that. She 
went out imo the hallway, blink 
the bright light, and followed Ger 
into Telecomp. 

“Hello? Harry?" she said. 

Across the 100m, Anders was listening 

extension 

“1 don't feel good," E 
want it to stop, Dr. Ross. 


g dn 


ird 


ou 


on said. “I 


What's the maner, Harry?" But she 
could hear the fatigue in his voice, the 
slow and slightly childlike quality. What 
would one of those rats say after 24 
hours of stimulation? 

“Things aren't working very well. I'm 
fired. Its the feelings,” Benson said 
“They're n 


aking me tired now. I want 
them to stop." 
“You'll have to let us help you, Harry 
You have to trust us.” 
There was a long | 
looked across the room 


se. Anders 
ıt Ros. She 
shrugged. “I wish you'd never operated 
on me.” Benson said. 

Anders checked his watch. 

“We can lix it lor you, Harry,” 


"E wanted to fix it myself," he said 
His voice was very childlike, almost pet 
Шан. “I wanted to pull out tl 

Ross Помпей. “Did you tr 

"No. I tried to pull off the band. 
but it hurt too much. I don't like it 
when it hurts,” 

He was really being quite childlike 
She wondered if the regression. wa 


wires.” 


a 
specific phenomenon or the result. of 
[e 


and fatigue 
But I have to do something,” Benson 
I. “1 have to stop this fecling. I'm 

о fix the computer." 

“Harry,” she said in a low, soothing, 
maternal voice. "Harry, please trust u 
There was no reply. Breathing on the 
other end of the line. She looked around 


the room at the tense, expectant 
“The police а 
“There 


aces, 


looking for me. 


по police here," she said. 


all gone. You сап come here. 


You lied to me befor he said. His 


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as petulant There was а 
very long silence, and then a sad sigh. 
“Pin sorry,” Benson said. "I know how 

ing to end. I to бх the 


it's g have 


There was a click, and then the buzz 
of a disconnection. Ross hung up. An 
ders immediately dialed the phone com. 
pany and asked whether they had been 
able to trace the call. 59 that was why 
he had been looking at his watch, she 
thought. 

“Hell,” Anders said and slammed the 
phone down. “They couldn't get а trace 
They couldn't even find the incoming 
cll Idiots." He sat down ados the 
100m from Ross. "He said that he's tried 
to pull the wires out to fix the computer. 
Did he mean thu? Is it physically 
possible?” 

“Maybe he meant it, maybe he didn't, 
He's confused now under the influence 
of all those seizures and stimulations. As 
lor its being physically | possible—ves 
Monkeys have done it." She rubbed her 
eyes. “Is there any collec? 

Gerhard poured her a cup. Then, across 
the room, Anders said. “How confused Өз 
you suppose he is, really?" 

“Very.” She sipped the coffee. “Is 
there any sugar eft? 

“Confused enough 
putei 

“I don't understand," she said. 

"He had wiring plans for the hospi- 
^ Anders said. "The main computer, 
the computer that assisted in his opera- 
n, is in the hospital basement.” 

She set down her cofee cup and 
stared at him. She frowned, rubbed her 
eyes again, picked the coffee up, then set 


to mix up com 


it down once more. "I don't know,” she 
said finally 

The telephone rang. Ross answered it, 
“NPS.” 


on unit at the phone 
a male said, 
eked that trace for Captain 
there?” She nodded to 


voice 


“We've тесі 
Anders. Is he 
Anders. 
“Anders speaking," There was а long 
pause. Then he said, “And whi 
time period you checked? I see. 


you,” 
He hung up and immediately be 
dialing again. "Vou better tell me about 


ck,” he said. "And 
's ruptured.” When 
Bomb squad 
back to 


that atom 
what happens if 
his call was put through 
This is Anders" He turned 


power р 


seven grams of radioactive plutonium. И 
it breaks open, you'll expose everyone in 
the area to serious radiation," 

“What particles are emitted?" 

“Alpha particles,” she said. 

Anders spoke into the phone. “This is 
Anders. homicide,” he said. “I w 
to University Hospital right awa: 


got a possible radiation hazard. Man and 
mmediate environment. may be contami- 
nated with an alpha emitter, P-238.". He 
listened, then looked at Ross, “Any pos 
bility of explosion?" 
No,” she said. 
No explosive" Anders said. He lis 
tened. “АП right. D understand. Get 
them here as quickly as you can." He 
hung up. 

The phone company rechecked that 
Anders said, "It seems that Ben- 


trace, 


son didn't call from the outside." 
ked. 


Ross b 

“That's т 
have called 
hospital.” 


ghe,” Anders said. “He must 
from somewhere inside the 


Ross looked out the fourthloor win- 
dow at the hospital parking lot and 
Anders gave instructions to 
at least 20 cops. Half of them went into 

hospital building: the rest ve- 
ed outside, in Title clusters, tal 
together, smoking quietly. Then a white 
bomb-squad van rumbled up and three 
men in gray, metalliclooking suits lum- 
Dered out. Anders talked to them briefly 
then nodded and stayed with the v 
packing some very peculiar equipment 

Ross and Gerhard watched the prepa 
rat "Benson won't make it," he said 

“I know,” she said. "I keep wonde: 
if there is any way to disarm him or 
immobilize him. Could we make a porta- 
ble microwave t 2 

"I thought of Gerhard 
“Bur ics unsafe. You can't really predict 
the effect on Benson's equipment. And 
you know it'll raise hell with all the 
cardiac pacemakers in other patients in 
the hospital." 

“There must be something we can 
do,” she said. 

He shook his head. 

Anders came into the 
all ready,” he said. 

"I can see 

“We've 
ment acces; 


watched as 


the m 


said. 


room. “We're 


got two men for every base 


two for the front door, two 
for the emergency ward and two for 
cach of the three elevators. I've kept 
men away from the patient-care floors. 
We don't want to start trouble in those 
arcas" 

Thoughtful of you, she thought, but 
id nothi 
Anders gl 
forty.” he s 


iced at his watch. “Twelve 
id. "I think somebody should 
show me the main hospi 
“I's in the basement, 
ding toward the main building. “ГІ 
show you.” She didn't really сате. Her 
exhaustion had gone beyond fatigue to a 
kind of numb boredom and depression. 
She walked down the corridor with 
Anders when behind them, from Tel- 
comp, they heard Gerhard shout, “Janet! 
Janet, are you still here?" She returned to 
Telecomp, with Anders following curious- 
ly, Inside the computer room, the console 


computes 
she said, nod- 


lights were flickering unsteadily. "Look 
at this." Gerhard said, pointing to one 
print-out console. 


CURKENT 
PROGRAM CHANGE IN 
PROGRAM CHANGE 


PROGRAM. TERMINATED. 


5 01 оз 0з 0) өй 


П main computer has gone to a 
new p-ssiam," Gerhard said, "We didn't 
instruct that, 1 don't know what it can 


be." They all watched the console. 


NEW PROGRAM READS AS 


Then there was nothi 


ng. No further 
letters appeared оп the screen. Anders 
said, “What does it mean?” 


“I don't know,” Gerhard said, “Ма 
nother time sharing terminal is overrid 
ing us, bui he possible: 
We locked in priority for our terminal 
for the past twelve hours. Ours should he 
the only terminal that can initiate pro 
gram changes 
The console flashed up new letters. 


be 


that should 


NEW PROGRAM READS AS 
MACHINE MALFUNCTION 
ALL PROGRAMMING TERMINATED TER 
MINATED TERMINATED TERMINATED 
TERMINATED TERMINATED TERMINATED 
TERMINATED TERMINATED 


Gerhard started to punch buitons on 
the console, then quit. “It isnt accept- 
ing any Something 
must be wrong with the main computer 
n the basement. 
Ross looked at Anders. 
show me that computer,” he s 
Then, as they watched, one of thc 
consoles went completely dead. АШ its 
lights blinked off; the TV screen shrank 
to a single fading white dot. А second 
console went off, then a third. The tele 
printer stopped printing. 


new instructions. 


You bctter 
il. 


It was a peculiarly damp night and 
quite coll as they hurried across the 
parking lot ıd the main building. 
Anders was checking his gun, turning it 
sideways to catch the light from the 
parking-lot lamps. 

“1 think you should know one thing, 
Ross suid. “It's no good threatening him 
with that, He won't respond rationally 
to ii. If he has а seizure, he won't even 
recognize it.” 

They entered the hospital through the 
brightly lit main entrance and walked 10 
the central elevator banks, Andes asked, 
“Where's the atomic pack located?” 

“Beneath the skin of the right shoul- 


tow: 


` She showed him on her own shoul- 
tracing а recta 
а cigarette pack 
There were two 
when they got in 
and fidgety. hands 
Anders nodded 1o 
asked Ross, 
these?” 
Never,” she said, 


der 


фе gle about the size of 


cops in the elevator 
both seemed tense 
touching their guns. 
his gm and 
Have you ever fired опе of 


own 


"Then the door opened and they 
the coolness of 


felt 
The 
bare, 


the m 
ahead of them 
concrete walls, overhead 
sh elecric lighting. The only 
sound was the distant hum of electrical 
equipment. The cops stayed behind. and 
Koss moved forward with Anders. "Docs 
ybody work down here at ni, he 
whispered. 
he nodded. 


basement 


cor stretched 
unpainted 


pipes. h 


idor 


“Maintenance people. 


Pathologists, if they're still going. The 
computer's this way. 
She led on toward the laundry room 
It was locked, bur huge caris with bu 
dies of laundry stood in the corridor. 
Anders eyed them cautiously before they 
continued toward the central kitchens. 
These were deserted, but the lights 
burned in a vast expanse of white-tiled 
rooms with stainlessstcel steam tables in 
long rows. Their footsteps echoed on the 
tiles. Anders walked loosely, holding his 
gun slightly ahead of 


his body 


pointed a litle to onc side. After the 
Kitchens, they entered. another hilly 
almost identical to the one they had left. 
Anders glanced at her  questioningly. 
Turn right,” she said 

They passed a sign on vall: 
EMPLOYEES REPORT ALL AC то 
Your suvexvison. It showed a man with 
а small cut on his finger. Farther down 
was another sign: NEED А LOAN? SEE YOUR 


CREDIT UNION 

They turned right down another cor- 
ridor and approached а small section of 
vending machines—hot coffee, dough- 
nuts, sandwiches, candy bars. She те- 
membered all the Late nights when she 
had been a resident in the hospital and 
had come down to the vending ma 
chines for a snack 

Anders peered into the vending 
and whispered, “Have a look at this.” 

She looked, astonished. Every machine 
had been smashed. There were candy 
bars and sandwiches wrapped in plas 
uc strewn floor. Coffee was 


the 


ross 


237 


PLAYBOY 


258 


pouring in short, arterial spurts from the 
collee vendor onto the floor. 

Anders stepped around. the puddles of 
cofice and soda and touched the dents 
and tears in the metal of Ше machines. 
"Looks like ax,” he said. "Where 
would he get an ах? 

"Fire-extinguisher stations have them.” 
icd down the corridor and 


‘They conti 
me to another turn in the tunnels. 
"Left," she said. “We've very dose.” 
Ahead of them was the section 


for 


hospital records and just beyond that 
froze. 
him. 


the computer. Suddenly, Anders 
Ros stopped and listened. with 
They heard footsteps and ln 
somebody hummin; 

Anders put. his Wn, 
gestured to ber to мау where she was. 
He moved forward, toward the turn in 
the tunnel. The humming was louder, 
He paused at the turn and looked cau- 
mound the corner. Ross hed her 


cr to his lips and 


mule voice shouted. and 
Jers’ arm flicked around the 
snake and а man sprawled 
across the floor, skidding down the tun- 
nel toward Ros. A bucket of water 
sloshed across the floor. Ross saw that it 
was an elderly maintenance man. She 
went over to him, 

"What (di 

“shh.” she siid, 


come 


to her lips. 


She helped the 1 » his leet 
"Don't leave the. basement,” Anders 
Û to him. "Go to t chen and wait 


until somebody tells you irs OK to go. 
There's а man down here we have to 
find. 

The janitor nodded, brushed. himself 
off and walked away, Ross and Anders 
continued along the corridor. and, 
moment, came to the compu 

This section was the only 
part of the basement. The 
floor changed abruptly to palebluc саг 
peting and a wall had been knocked out 
1o accommodare Іше gl 
that looked in on the banks of the main 


conacte 


Ss windows 


computer, Row remembered that, ac the 
of instillation, the windows had 
seemed an unnecessary expense and she'd 


mentioned it to McPherson 
people sce what's com- 
The computer is 
тї more. expen- 
sive than most, but still just a machine. 
We want people to get used to it, We 
don't want th or worship it. 
We want them to sce it as part of the 


Ross could never quite agree with 
that. The special treatment, the hallv 
carpeting, the expensive surroundings did 
not make the computer part of the ord 
nary environment. Quite the reverse: It 
made the computer special, unusual, 
unique. The only other place in the hos- 
pital where the floor stopped be 
noleum—and became с 


crete or 


—was outside the small nondenomina- 
tional chapel on the first floor. She had 
the same sense here: a shrine to the com- 
puter, Did the computer care if th 
were carpets on the floor? 

In any case, the employees of the 
hospital had provided their own reac- 
tion to the spectacle inside the glass 
windows. A handwritten sign had Беси 
taped to the glass: Do xor on 
MOLEST THE COMPUTER, 

Ross and Anders crouched down be- 
low the level of the uus Anders 
peered over cautiously. “I think I see 
him." She looked, too. she was aware 
that her heart was suddenly pounding; 
hier body was tense and expectant. 

Inside the room, there were si 
broad L-shaped con- 
ıl processor, a р 
and two disk-drive 
и was shiny, sharp- 
t quiedly under 
even. luorescen She saw uo 
onc— just. 0 soled, alonc. 
Tc reminded her of Stonchenge, the ver- 


netictape units, 
sole lor the centi 
car 
units. 


tical stone columns. 
Then she saw him: a man moving 
between two tape units. White orderly's 


cout, black hair. “Ies him,” she said. 

"Where's the door?” Anders asked. 
no good reason, he was checking hi 
. He snapped the 
екй чш Шр clic 


“Down there.” She pointed down the 
corridor to the door, perk feet 
away. She looked from to the 


gun and back to Auders. 

"OK. You stay down. 
her down to the Hoor as he spoke. Then 
he crawled forward to the door. He 
paused there and looked back at her once, 
She was surpr scd to see that he w 
ed. His face was taut, his body 


Anders pressed 


slm, Anders 
nd Пала him- 
self onto his belly imo the room. She 
heard him shout, “Benson!” And then 
almos immediately, there was 
shot. This was followed by а sec 
gunshot and a third. She could not tell 
who Anders’ feet stick- 
ing out of the door as he lay on the car- 
peting. Gray smoke billowed out through 
the open door and rose lazily in the 
corridor. 

There were two more shots and a 
loud scream of pain. She closed her eyes 
and pressed her check 10 the carpet. 
Anders shouted: “Benson! Give it up, 
Benson 

It won't do any good 
Didn't Anders understand 


a loud 


saw 


s firing. $ 


she thought. 


Still more shots, in rapid succession, 
Suddenly. 


the window above her shat- 


s, into her hair. She shook 
them off, And then, to her astonishment, 
she saw that Benson һай thrown himself 
through the glass w amd la 


adow паса 


her. One 


оп the corridor floor beside 
white trouser leg was seeping red. 
“Hany 
Her voice cracked strangely, She was 
terrified. She knew she should not be 
afraid of this man—that was a. dissei 


to him, а betr 
а loss of some impor 
d, nonetheless. 

Benson looked at her, eyes blank and 
unseeing. He ran off down the basement 
corridor 


al of her profession and 
и Uust—but she 


y, wait 
па," 


Anders said, comi 
out of the computer room, sprint 
alter Benson, holding his gun stiffly in 
his hand. The policeman’s posture was 
absurd: she wanted to laugh, She heard 
Benson's running footsteps echoing 1 
ly down the tunnel. Then Anders tur 
а corner, continuing alter him, The foot- 
мер» blended in масса echoes, 

And then she was alone. She sot to 
her feet, dazed, feeling sick. She knew 
what was going to happen now. Benson, 
like pped an would head for 
ic ol the Мз soon аз 
ppeared ontside—where it was safe 


emerge its. 


to shoot—the waiting policemen would 
gun him down. All the exits were 
covered. There was no posible escape. 


She didn't want to be there to see it. 
Instead, she went imo the computer 
room and looked around. 

The main computer was demolished, 
The magnetictape hanks were knocked 
over; the main control panel was 1 
dled with fine round punctures, and 
ks sputtered and dripped from the 
panel towanl the floor. She ought to 
contol that, she thought. She looked 
around for a fuc extinguisher and siw 
lying on the c 
And then she saw the g 


Curious, she picked it up. It 
ier than she expected; it felt 
easy and cold in her hand. 


She knew Anders li 
must be Benson's. 
t mi 


n: therefore, 
She stared at it 
ight tell her. something 


about him. 


From somewhere iı 
were 


а the basement, there 
ishots. 


They echoed 
иш 
nels. She walked to the broken window 
and looked out at the tunnels. She saw 
nothing. 


four more 


She went back to look at one of the 
display consoles, which was now print- 
ing EKMINA over and over. 


ERM 


shots. 
I- 


е, 


Then there were two more g 
not so distant as the others, and she 
ized that somehow Benson was still 
still going, She stood in a corner of the 
demolished computer room and waited. 

Another gunshot, very close now. 

She ducked down behind one of 
the magnetictape banks as she heard 


PLAYBOY 


260 


approaching footsteps. She heard some 
one struggling for breath; the foorsteps 
paused; the door to the computer room 
opened, then closed with a slam. She 
was still hidden behind the tape bank 
and could not sce what was happening. 

A second set of running feet went 
past the Computer room and continued 


down the corridor, fading into echoes. 
Everything was quiet. Then she heard 
heavy breathing and a cough. 

She stood. 


Harry Benson, wearing torn white or- 
derly's clothes, his left leg very red, was 
sprawled on the carpet. his body hall 
plopped up against the wall He was 

his breath 
gasps: he stared straight ahead, ш 
‘of anyone ehe in the room. 

She still held the gun in her h 
she felt а moment of elation. Somehow 
it was all going to work out. She was 
going to get him back alive. The police 
hadn't killed him, and by the most un- 
believable stroke of luck. she had him 
alone, to herself. It n her wonder- 
fully happ 

“Har 

He looked over slowly and blinked. 
He did not seem to recognize her for a 
moment, and then he smiled. “Hello, 
Dr. Ross.” lt was a nice smile. 

Everything is going to be all rig 
Hany,” she said. She wanted to reassure 
him, so she did not move, did not ap. 
proach him. 

He continued to breathe heavily and 
said nothing for a moment. He looked 
around the room at the demolished com 
puter equipment. “I really did it" he 
said. "Didn't ІР” 
оште going to be finc, Harry.” she 
1. She was drawing up a schedule in 
mind. He could undergo emergency 
surgery on his leg that night and in the 


came in 


ade 


moming they could disconnect his com- 
puter, reprogram the dleetrodes and 
everything would be corrected. A disas- 


ter would be salvaged. It was the most 
credible piece of luck. 
27 He started to get ир, 


eyes flashed briefly and the 
smile was gone, “Don't call me Harry 
My name is Mr. Benson. Call me Мі. 
Benson.” 

‘There was no mistaking the anger in 
his voice. 11 surprised her and upset her. 
Didn't he know that she was the only 


one who still wanted to help him? The 
others would be just as happy if he 
died. 


He continued to struggle to his fect. 
Don't move, Harry.” She showed him 
the gun then 

He grinned in childish recognition. 
“That's my gun.” 
have it 
He still grin 


she said. 
а, a fixed expression, 


iow, 


partly fic 
leaned hi 
was a di 
his le 
saw it. 

"Em hurt, 


m pain, He got to his feet and 
avily against the wall. There 
kred stain on the carpet where 
had rested. He looked down and 


he said. "He shot me in 
the leg. He looked from the blood 
up to her, His smile remained. “You 
wouldn't use that, would you 
"Yes," she said, "if I had to.” 
You're doctor. 1 don't think you 
would use it,” Benson said. He took a 
step toward har. 
“Don't come closer, Harry. 
He smiled. He took another! 


step, un- 


but he maintained his balance. 
1 think you would.” 
words frightened her. She was 
t she would shoot him and 
jd that she would not. “Anders!” 


she shouted. “Anders!” Her voice echoed 
through the basement. 


never lelt her lace. He started to fall 
leaned heavily on. one of the disk«dr 
consoles. lr tore his white jacket 


the 
armpit. He looked at the tear numbly. 


"It tore... 

"Suy there, Harry 
like talking to an 
Do not feed о nimal. She 
felt like a lion tamer in the circus. 

He hung there а moment, supporting 
himself on the drive console, bre 
heavily. "I want the gun, 
need it. Give it to me.” With a grunt. 
he pushed away from the console and 
continued moving toward. her. 

“Anders 

“Irs по good.” Benson said. 
no time left, Dr. Ross.” F 
her. 
he rece 


Stay there.” Des 
mal, she thought. 


here's 
js eyes were on 


She saw the pupils expand briclly as 
ced “That's beau- 
ийи” he said 


à stimulation. 
xd smiled 

The stimulation seemed to halt hin 
he was tumed inward, enjoying the se 
sation. When he spoke again, his voice 
was calm and distant. "You see," he 
said, “they are alter ше. They hine 
turned their little computers 
The 


ай Me. 
The 


hunt kill. 
m. Hunt 


nd 


program is 


hum. 


Do you ui 
He was only a few steps away. 
held the gun in her hand stiffly, as she 


badly 
" she said. "Please. 

He smiled. He took another step. She 
didn't really know what she wis goi 
to do until she found herself. squecz 
the wigger and the g 
noise was painfully loud and the gun 
snapped in her hand, flinging her arm 
up, almost knocking her off her feet, She 
vas thrown 
the computer room. 
Benson stood bli 
"hen he smiled ag, 
locks. 
She gripped the gun 


ischarged. The 


in the smoke. 
Us nop as easy 


a her hand, It 


arm now. She raised 
an before, She stea 
it with the other hand. Benson adv 

A flood of images overcame her 
saw Benson as she had first met him, a 
mek man with a temifving problem. 
She saw him in a montage of all the 
mcerviews, all the tests. all the drug 
als He was a good p nothin 
that had happened was his fault. И wa 
her fault. and Ellis’ fault, and Me 
Pherson's fault. and Morris: Fault. 

Then she thought of Morris, the face 
mashed into a red pulp. delormed into 
butchers meat. 

"Dr. Ross" Benson said. “you're my 


felt w 
shaking worse i 


doctor. You wouldn't do anything to 
hurt me.” 

He was very dow now. His 

ached out for the gun. Her 
body was shaking as she watched the 
hands move closer, within inches of the 
banel, reaching for it, reaching for 

She fired at point-blank 

With Benson 


jumped айг. dodging the 
bullet. She was pleased. She had man- 
aged to drive him back without hurting 
him. Anders would savive any minute to 
help subdue him before they took him 


Benson's body slammed hard into the 
printing unit, knocking it over. It beg 
to darter in а monotonous, mecha 
wav as the keys printed out some 
size. Benson rolled onto his back. Blood 
spurted in heavy thick gushes from his 
ches. His white uniform’ became darkly 
тей 
"Harry 
“Hany 
She did really remember 
ppened after that. Anders returned 
nd took the gun from her hand. He 
moved her to the side of the room as 
three men in gray suits arrived, carrying 
a long plastic capsule on a stretcher. 
"hey opened the capsule; the inside 
was lined with a strange, yellow honey- 
comb ion. They lifted 
bods—she noticed they were careful, try- 
ing 1o keep the blood off their special 
stits—and placed. it inside the capsule. 
They dosed it and locked it with special 
locks. Two of the men carried it aw 
The third went around the room with a 
Geiger counter, which chattered. loudly. 
Somehow. the sound reminded her of an 
key. She couldn't see the mati 
helmet he wore; the 


she said, He did not move. 
Harr 


what 


ШЫ Benson's 


m s 
Tace behind the gı 


ss was fogged 


Anders put his arm around her shoul- 
ders, She began to ary. 


This is the third and final install 
ment of a condensed version of “The 


erminal Man.” 


A.C. SPECTORSKY 


A. С. SPECTORSKY, PLAYBOY's Associate Pub- 
lisher and Editorial Director, died ol a stroke 
on the island of St. Croix on January 17. 
He was there in a new vacation home, far 
from Chicago's bitter winter, recouping the 
strength sapped by a previous heart attack, 
sending memos full of article ideas back to 
the magazine he was so instrumental in 
building, and watching the sailing ships 
that were his passion. He was buried at sea 
that day. 

He was born Auguste Comte Spectorsky in 
Paris in 1910, but he was Spec to his associ- 
ates and Augie to his intimates. In his late 
20s, he quit graduate studies іп physics at 
Columbia University to take his first job, 
asa journalist with The New Yorker, where 
he began to develop his editorial talents. 

He was a writer who loved the ticks 
words can play. Anagrams and puns lurked 
in almost everything he wrote. He once told 
a story of an carly assignment, а piece that 
was to be published without his by-line. He 
wrote it so that the initial letters of the first 
12 sentences spelled A. C. Spectorsky 
some damn editor got hold of it,” he said, 
and then he stood and buttoned his coat, 
which he always scemed to do near the end 
ol a story, “and when the anagrammatic 
formula was applied, my name was gibber 
ish. Bad gibberish, even 

Alter The New Yorker, he held many jobs 
—as literary editor for the Chicago Sun, as- 
sociate Eastern story editor for 20th Century- 
Fox, managing editor of Living for Young 
Homemakers, editor in chief of Park East 
and senior editor at NBC-TV, where he 
helped organize the Home show. And he 
continued to write; he produced ten books, 
finally. The 1955 best seller The Exurbanites, 
a mischievous tattle on city folks living be- 
yond the suburbs, was his favorite. 

In 1956, Hugh Hefner hired Spectorsky to 
share in and give new spark to his then- 
three-ycarold magazine. Spee brought. with 


him a unique sophistication, both personal 


and professional, and ап urbanity of style 
that have left an indelible impact on this 
magazine. Throughout his years as Editorial 
Director, during which he saw PLAYBOY'S 
circulation go from fewer than 1,000,000 
to 6,500,000 copies monthly, he was shep- 
herd to the words in the magazine—and 
to its writers. 

As an editor, he possessed an inside under- 
standing of writers’ problems. He knew they 
were crazy children, mostly, and he under- 
stood when they were broke (and usually did 
something about it) or why they were drink. 
ing or hiding ош. “Editors tiptoe past 
writers," he would say, and he meant it. He 
had а strong sense of corporate decorum, 
which demanded that mest of his editorial 
stalf be at their desks on time, every day. Bur 
for writers he allowed a certain relaxation of 
the general order, and even when a writer 
overstepped this freedom, the reproof was 
gentle. "E can understand why he drinks 
wine in the morn he once said of 
young staff writer, "but can't he shut his 
door while he does it? 

Perhaps his greatest gift to the hundreds 
of writers and editors with whom he worked. 
over his lifetime was his attitude about the 
compensation they deserved for the work 
they did. He put the essence of that philos- 
ophy into a speech he delivered in. London 
not long before he died. “Your creative мї 
and your contributors," he said, "are your 
senses, your eyes and ears—and your voice— 
and you must never demean them by buy 
or selling their work at bargain price 

His prolessional achievements endure, in 
books on shelves and bound into magazines, 
But the person—a delicately featured man, 
dapper, erudite, who seemed to have no blus 
ter in him and who was totally at its mercy 
when it came from others, whose anger was 
slow and even then hesitating, who loved 
a clever quip and 
that person is gone; and we miss him 


all big sailing ships— 


PLAYBOY 


262 


PLAYBOY 
READER SERVICE 


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answers to your shopping questions, 
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example, where-to-buy information is 
available for the merchandise of the 
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PRIME CUT 


TOP PLAYMATE 


FALLING ROCKS 


JACKIE STEWART, TWO-TIME WORLD-CHAMPION GRAND PRIX 
DRIVER, JUDGES HIMSELF AND HIS COMPETITION, TELLS WHY HE 
RACES AND HOW HE FACES THE EVER-PRESENT THREAT OF DEATH 
IN AN EXCLUSIVE PLAYBOY INTERVIEW 


“THE MOVIES’ FUTURE”—NOW THAT IT'S BEEN CURED OF 
NEARLY FATAL ECONOMIC ELEPHANTIASIS, HOLLYWOOD IS BE- 
GINNING TO WEAR THE SMILE OF HEALTH—BY BRAD DARRACH 
PLUS *CHASING THE BUCKS"—WHEREIN A FILM MAKER'S 
SEARCH FOR BACKERS MEETS WITH TIMIDITY, STUPIDITY, CHI- 
CANERY AND BULLSHIT—BY WILLIAM MURRAY 


“TED KENNEDY RISING"—SPURRED ON BY A VISION OF VIN- 
DICATION, THE LAST OF THE DYNASTY IS GOING TO RUN FOR 
PRESIDENT . . . SOMETIME—BY JACK NEWFIELD 


“FALLING ROCKS, NARROWING ROAD, CUL-DE-SAC, 
STOP."'—AFTER LONG CELIBACIES, THREE ECCENTRIC IRISHMEN 
ARE FATED TO FIND THEIR WOMEN—BY SEAN O'FAOLAIN 


“PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR”—OUR ANNUAL PICTORIAL ACCO- 
LADE TO THE TOP GATEFOLD GIRL OF THE PAST TWELVEMONTH 


“MEMOIRS OF AN INTERMITTENT MADMAN''—A PROCLA- 
MATION AGAINST THE THERAPEUTIC TYRANNY THAT THREATENS. 
ALL THOSE DIAGNOSED AS MENTALLY ILL—BY CARLTON BROWN 


“THE WORLDLY AMERICANS’—NO LONGER CONSIDERED 
"UGLY," A U.S. BUSINESSMAN CAN MAKE HIS FORTUNE AND 
IMPROVE HIS LIFE STYLE ABROAD—BY FRIEDEL UNGEHEUER 


“THOSE SEXY FRENCH LITERARY LADIES"—A REVEALING 
PHOTOGRAPHIC REVIEW OF THE TRES MAGNIFIQUE MADEMOI- 
SELLES WHO WRITE EROTIC AND LOOK EXOTIC 


“A GENTLEMAN’S GAME FOR REASONABLE STAKES"— 
LIFE AT A TENNIS CLUB TAKES A SUDDEN UPSWING WHEN THE. 
MATCH PRIZE IS A PLAYER'S WIFE—BY STAN DRYER 


“PRIME CUT"—ON- AND OFF-THE-SET UNCOVERAGE OF THE 
NEW FILM STARRING ANGEL TOMPKINS, LEE MARVIN AND GENE. 
HACKMAN, AND FEATURING AN ARRAY OF BEAUTIES 


“THE FINE ART OF BEING THE BOSS"—HOW AND WHEN THE 
TOP MAN SHOULD USE AUTHORITY, DELEGATE RESPONSIBILITY 
AND PLAY HIS HUNCHES—BY J. PAUL GETTY 


Memoirs ofabottle: 


named Pat Sands got a raise one day and brought 
me home that night. He wanted to celebrate with 
something special. I was flattered. 


eighbor dropped by to borrow a little vermouth 
| | fora Rob Roy and remembered 
| he didn't have any Scotch either. 


as a little less of me when Pat came home 
| after opening his paycheck with his new raise. 
| | After taxes, he wondered if he got a raise at all. 


oker party took a lot out of me. 


ddies, Dick, Don and Nick came over one 
7 night and I sensed that I wasn't long for 
ths world. 


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