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ENTERTAINMENT FOR MEN OCTOBER 1972. ONE DOLLAR 


PLAY OY 


PLAYBOY'S a 
BUNNIES Papers: Joe 
OF 1972 = 
The Bizarre Ellsberg 
Story of an 

i Jazz 
Ё 
Millionaire’ % Pop 
Mexican Poll 


Jailbreak 


Introducing the Hornet Hatchback. 
Asports car 
with room to travel in. 


Isn't that a пісе idea? А car that does lots of extra room when you need it. 


everything a sports car should do. Just fold down the back seats and 
It moves like one. It handles like one. load up through the hatch. 
But it doesn't cost like one. And only American Motors makes 


And the Hornet Hatchback gives you this promise: The Buyer Protection Plan 

backs every "73 car we build, and 
we'll see that our dealers back that 
promise. 


Buckle up for safety. 


АШЫГАМ, MOTORS BUYER PROTECTION кн Е 
. А simple, strong guarante s 
When you buy a new 1973 car fr 


States or 

pairs or replacement be made 

almost every one of our 
vernight 


ruption PREC 
line to AMC Headquarters 


AMC РЕ Horne 


We back them better because we m them better. 


IS YOUR WATCH PULLING 
A FAST ONE ON YOU? 


According to your watch 
you're about to miss your train. 

So you skip breakfast, jump in 
the car, get a $15 ticket speeding 
to the station and what do you 
find? 

Your watch lied. 

There's plenty of time before 
your train. 

Now if you had an Accutron 
watch, things would be different. 
It doesn't have a mainspring 
or a balance wheel that can make 

ordinary watches fast or slow. 

It has a cuning fork move- 
ment that's guaranteed honest to 
within a minute a month? 

So if it said you were about to 
miss your train, you'd skip 
breakfast, jump in the car, get a 
$15 ticket speeding to the station 
and what would you find? 

Your Accutron watch didn't lie. 

Your train just pulled out. 


ACCUTRON BY BULOVA 


The truth-loving cuning fork watch. 


: — 
Shown: Accutron Date and Day “AG” Black markers on black and white dial. Stainless steel link band with fold-over buckle. 


Date resets instantly. $185. Ask your dealer 10 show you the many other styles from $110. 
“Timd:eeping will be adjusted co this tolerance, if necessary, if returned to Accutron dealer from whom purchased within one year from date of purchase, 


1f you think Bud» 

is sort of special, 

that’s all the more réasen 
to make it 

your regular beer. 


(Think about it) 


ANHEUSER-BUSCH, INC. e ST. LOUIS" 


When you say Budweiser, you've said it all ! ae 


PLAY BIER e ees around the 


world that morning of August 19, 
1971: A wealthy American named Joel Kaplan had the 
evening belore been literally plucked—by hclicopter— 
from the Mexican prison where he was serving a murder 2 
sentence. The daring rescue, which somehow smacked 
of Robin Hood's merry men outwitting the sheriff of 
Nottingham, piqued the public's curiosity. Who was 
Kaplan? Who had sprung him? Why? In this month's 
lead article, Breakout, Eliot Asinof, Warren Hinckle 2 
ER ER E 5 INCKLE JRNER ASINO 
and William Turner piece together the inside story— 
which will appear in expanded form in The Ten-Second Jailbreak, to be published in January by Holt, Rinehart & 
Winston. “Several y Hinckle told us, “when I was editing Ramparts magazine and Bill Turner was a senior 
editor there, we started an investigation of the CIA. That led us to the J. M. Kaplan Fund, alleged to be a CIA 
front, and to strange stories about J. M.'s imprisoned nephew, Joel." As time went on, the writers became convinced 
that Joel was being held on wumped-up charges; they were preparing to lend support to an escape plan when news of 
the successful airlift broke. “If anybody gets to talk to this guy, we should,” Hinckle and Turner told Kaplan's attor- 
neys. They agreed, and set up meetings with the reclusive millionaire in one of the several hideouts he still main- 
tains in the Western United States. Asinof, an established novelist and screenwriter, was recruited to lend his own 
expertise, especially with a projected film treatment. The cooperative effort is, we think, an authentic thriller. 

Meir Kahane, militant leader of the Jewish Defense League and this month's Playboy Interview subject, feels that 
in some cases violence is justified and that laws should be broken—but that the lawbrcakers should be prepared to face 
the consequences. When Danicl Ellsberg released the Pentagon papers, he knew he risked being branded a waitor, but 
his conscience demanded that he act. In The Ordeal of Daniel Ellsberg, Joe McGinniss—author of The Selling of the 
President 1968, about Nixon's campaign—describes what Ellsberg's life has been like since he became a public figure. 
Ellsberg, McGinniss found, is “a fascinating and lonely man." So is marathoner Ron Daws, who's profiled by John 
Medelman in The Purity of the Long-Distance Runner. Says Medelman, who teaches writing at Stout State Uni- 
versity in Menomonie, Wisconsin: “The zeal of the runners reached me; Гуе begun jogging 1700 or 1800 miles a 
year, losing 15 pounds in the process. My wife thinks it's insane. If I could find a woman who'd jog with me, I'd 
take a mis s. So far, I haven't had much luck." If anybody could understand Daws's Spartan dedication to the 

thlete's code, it would be the dauntless brothers deftly parodied by Larry Siegel in The Rover Boys at College, 
illustrated by Charles E. White ILL Also in the humor ve alvin Trillin's exercise in the fine art of rumormon- 
gering, The President Flagellates Frogs. 

Our lead fiction this month is Robert Crichton's Gillon Cameron, Poacher. Crichton, author of The Secret of Santa 
Vittoria, tells us PLAYBOY’s story will be one chapter in The Camerons, to be published by Alfred A. Knopf. "It's 
been chosen the November Book-of-the-Month Club selection, which, if Christmas does not fail to happen this vear, 
should be a great boost,” he says. Other stories this month are contributed by 32-year-old Alan Goldfein, making his first 
PLAYBOY appearance with Chameleon, and Elliott Arnold, making his second with What Did I Do That Was Wrong?, 
a narrative about mateswapping orgies. The adjective Roman often precedes the noun orgy, and Federico Fellini 
makes good use of that noun in his latest epic, Fellini's Roma; director and movic are described by Contributing Editor 
Bruce Williamson. There's more: a look at the Bunnies of 1972; and our 1973 Playboy Jazz & Pop Poll Ballot, Plus 
George Bradshaw showing readers how to make superlativ aces in Pasta Plus and Fashion Director Robert L. Green 
(aided by artist Thomas Upshur and photographer Steve Ladner) presenting Playboy’s Fall & Winter Fashion Fore- 
cust, Just remember that if you ov mer, you'll be unfit for the latter. But as for this issue, dig in. 


dulge in the f 


MC GINNISS ARNOLD 


WILLIAMSON, BRADSHAW COLDFEIN 


UPSHUR 


vol. 19, по. 10—october, 1972 


PLAYBOY. 


CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


PLAYBILL _ 3 
DEAR PLAYBOY... n 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS. 5 9 : 19 
ART... > 20 
BOOKS. ПЕЕ d cues 22 
Ellsberg’s Ordeal DINING-DRINKING..... eed = 26 
MOVIES. 2 = ——— 28 
RECORDINGS se - 3s 
THEATER... p тад m 41 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR. a 
THE PLAYBOY FORUM. — 55 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: MEIR KAHANE—candid conversation. sce YQ 


Mobile Bodies BREAKOUT-—article -EOT ASINOF, WARREN HINCKLE and WILLIAM TURNER 80 


GILON CAMERON, POACHER—fiction 1... ROBERT CRICHTON 84 


BROWN, BLACK AND WHITE —pictorial _ a7 


GAME PLAN— modern living. sock) 


CHAMELEON —fic " ALAN GOLDFEIN 95 


JOE MC GINNISS 96 


THE ORDEAL OF DANIEL ELLSBERG—personality.. 


WHAT DID 1 DO THAT WAS WRONG? —fiction ELUOTT ARNOLD 100 


The Chameleon PLAYBOY'S FALL & WINTER FASHION FORECAST—atlire.... ROBERT L GREEN 104 
PETS’ TEACHER—playboy’s playmate of the month. fe = = Ue 
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor - 120 
THE PRESIDENT FLAGELLATES FROGS—humor.........._ CALVIN TRIIN 123 


PASTA PLUS—food 25 ........_GEORGE BRADSHAW 124 


THE ROVER BOYS AT COLLEGE—parody . a LARRY SIEGEL 126 


BODY WORK —pictorial Lr 129 


THE PURITY OF THE LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER —article...... JOHN MEDELMAN 133 


BUNNIES OF 1972—pictor КЕРНЕ x SG 
THE PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL—jazz/pop.. 147 
THE SPORT OF QUEENS—ribald classic... E TE 155 
FELLINI'S ROMA -~ . . ROME'S FELLINI—article BRUCE WILLIAMSON 156 


THE WAGE SLAVES—humor -.. ROWLAND B. WILSON 159 


ON THE SCENE—personolities а. — oo 


= 180 


PLAYBOY POTPOURRI. 


GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY BUILDING, O19 NORTH MICHIGAN AVE. CHICAGO, ILLINOIS «оен. RETURN POSTAGE MUST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS. DRAWINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS 
SUBMITTED IF THEY ARE JO BE RETURNED AND NO RESPONSIBILITY CAN BE ASSUMED FOR UNSOLICITED MATERIALS, ALL RIGHTS IN LETTERS SENT TO PLAYBOY WILL BE TREATED AS 
UNCONDIIONALLY ISSIGHEO FOR PUBLICATION ANO COPYRIGHT PURPOSES AND AS SUBIECT TO Ролтвоү з UNRESTRICTED FIGHT то EDIT AND TO COMMENT EDITORIALLY. CONTENTS 
COPIRIGHT © 1072 BY PLAYBOY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLAYBOY AND RABSIT HEAD SYMBOL ARE MARKS OF PLAYBOY. PEGISTENED U.S. PATENT CFFICE. MARCA REGISTRADA, MARQUE 
BEPOSEE NOTHING MAY BE REPRINTED IN WHOLE OR IN PART WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUBLISHER, ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE PEOPLE AND PLACES IM THE FICTION 
ANO SEMIFICTION. IH THIS MAGAZINE AND ANY REAL PEOPLE AND PLACES IS PURPLY COINCIDENTAL CREDITS: COVER: MODEL LINN MYERS PHOTOGRAPHY BY POMPEO POSAR. 
OTHER PHOTOGRAPHY GY; BILL ARSENAULT, P. UD HOWARD L BINGHAM. P. E748 (3); LU 136; DAVID CHAN, P 3. 13. 142-143. 144 (3): JEFF COWEN. P. 3 (2): 
RICHARO FIGLEY, P. WV j DONALD. GETSUG. P. 2, FORET GOLDBERG, P. тав (2) LOUIS GOLDMAN. P. засл» (а). ORIAN O HENNESSEY, P. MO, DAWO 
HODGES COLLECTION. P. INI: DWIGHT HOOKER. P. 138. 140, MAHAR, P. їз; RON MESARDS. P. 172; RALPH NELSON, JN.. P. 130; 
2, BARRY O'ROURKE, Р. з (0). 172: FRANCO PINNA, P. 156-157 (15) (2). т. 142 (3). 143. 144 VERNON L. SMITH, P. 3 (5). ALEXAS URB, P. 135, 145. 


TLAYGOY. остовгк. 3872, VOLUME 19, NUMBER 10 PUBLISHED MONTHLY GY PLAYBOY. їн NATIONAL AND REGIONAL EDITIONS PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 NORTH MICHIGAN 
AVENUE. EMICAG, Ii. acon, SECOMOACLASS POSTAGE PAID AT CHICAGO, HLL, AND AT ADDITIONAL MAILING OFFICES  SUPSCPIPTIDAS. IN TWE U S. Иа FOR ONK YEAR 


I. W HARPER. 
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y » It always treats your taste light. 
i, / 
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86 Proof Kentucky ! 


€ 1. W. Harper 


PLAYBOY 


Your car... 
your clothes... 
your way of 
doing things. 
These are all part 
of your very own style. 
A&C Sabers fit 
right in, too. Long, 
pencil-thin 
and very 
good-looking. 
Sabers are 
mild in taste. 


Rich in satisfying 
flavor. Light or your 
dark wrapper. 


Try a Saber 
on for size. $ 


/ Antonio y Cleopatra. 
Toolat ad Bo tie bor, 


PLAYBOY 


HUGH M. HEFNER 
editor and publisher 
ARTHUR KRETCHMER execiilive edilor. 
ARTHUR PAUL art director 
SHELDON WAX managing editor 
MARK KAUFFMAN photography edilor 


MURRAY FISHER, NAT LEHRMAN 
assistant managing editors 
EDITORIAL 

ARTICLES: pay ntTLER editor, 

GEOFFREY NORMAN associate edilor 

FICTION: ROME MACAUIFY editor, 

STANLEY PALEY associate editor, SUZANNE 

MC NEAR, WALTER SUBLETT assistant editors 
SERVICE FEATURES: TOM OWEN modern living 
editor, KOGER WIDENER, RAY WILLIAMS assistant 
editors; товгит L. GREEN fashion director, 
WALTER HOLMES fashion coordinator, 
DAVID PLATE associate fashion editor: 

THOMAS MARIO food & dunk editor 
CARTOONS: MICHELLE URRY editor 

STATE: MICHAEL LAURENCE, ROBERT |. SHEA 
DAVID STEVENS senior editors; 

REG POTTFRION, FRANK M. RORINSON, 

DAVID STANDISH, CRAIG VETTER staff writers; 
DOUGLAS BAUER, WILLIAM J. HELMER, 

TCHEN MC NESE, CARL SNYDER asociale 
editors; LAURA LONGLEY BABI, DOUGLAS C. 
BENSON, TOBA J. COHEN, J. к. O'CONNOR, 
ARNIE WOLEE, assistant editors; SUSAN 
HEISLER, BARBARA NELLIS, LAURIE SADLER, 
BERNICE Т. ZIMMERMAN research editors; 

J. PAUL GETTY (business & finance), 
NAT HENIOFE, JACK J. KISSIE, RICHARD 
WARREN LEWIS, KAY RUSSELL, JEAN st 
JOHN SKOW, BRUCE WILLIAMSON (movies), 
томі UNGERER contributing editors 
COPY: ARLENE попкАз editor, 
STAN AMBER assistant editor 
ADMINISTRATIVE SERVICES: 
THEO FREDERICK personnel directo 
ATMIGIA PAVANGELIS administrative editor; 
CATHERINE GENOVESE rights & permissions; 
MILDRED ZIMMERMAN administrative assistant 
ART 
лом STAEDLER, кени ГОРЕ associate directors; 
п. MICHAEL SISSON executive assistant, 
hon POST, ROY MOODY, LE 
SUSKI, CORDON. MORTENSEN 
зом PACZEK, ALFRED ZELCER assistant 
directors: тосле ILES, VICTOR. MUBUARD, 
JOHN KJOS art assislanis 


PHOTOGRAPHY 

MARILYN GRABOWSKI, GARY COLE, вил. SUNTIS 
(leclinical), HOLLIS WAYNE associate editor 

1. ARSENAULT, DON AZUMA, DAVID CH 
RICHARD FFELEY, DWIGHT HOOKER, POMPEO 
OSAR, ALEXAS URBA staff photographers 
CARL IRL associate slaf) photographer 
LEO кишка. photo lab supervisor; 
JANICE BERKOWITZ chief stylist; 


THANCINE GOURGUFCHON stylist 
PRODUCTION 
JOHN masiko director; ALLEN VARGO 


manager; ELEANORE WAGNER, RUA J 
MARIA MANDIS, RICHARD QUAETAROLL assistants 
= READER SERVICE 
director 
CIRCULATION 
THOMAS є. WILLIAMS customer service 
ALVIN WIEMOLD subscription manager 
VINCENT THOMPSON newsstand manager 
ADVERTISING 
HOWARD w. LEDERER advertising director 
PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES, INC. 
ROBERT s. PREUSS business manager and 
associate publisher; RICHARD S. ROSENZWEIG 
xecutive assistant to the publisher; 
исилир м. коре assistant publish 
FLA¥DOY, October 1972, Vol. 19, No. 10. Pub- 
lished monthly by Playboy, Playboy Bldg, 
919 N. Michigan Ave. Chicago, Hl, 60611. 


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SUPERSOLDIER 
My thanks for the enlightening July 
interview with Lieutenant. Colonel An: 
thony Herbert. For revealing the extent 
of war crimes in Vietnam, he must be 
congratulated. The story of troops’ hav- 
ing to salute the general's pet duck says 
all that needs to be said about the 


absurdities of today's military hierarchy. 
John Kline 
San Diego, Californ: 


I thought the duck story was pretty 
funny, all the way from General 
Barnes's having the duck in the first 
place to Herbert's finally wringing its 
neck to make duck sandwiches. But the 


only villain I could find in the episode 
was not the duck, General Barnes or 
even the Army. It was Herbert, for his 
willful and maiicious destruction of pri- 


vate property. 


Mylan L. Trivanovich 
Sama Susana, California 


The imerview with Herbert was a 
stirring and frustrating account of this 
country's continued involvement in In- 
dochina. Herbert drives home one basic 
poiut—the need for responsible leader- 
ship. I salute him for providing it. 

Lt. Thomas T. Prou 
Loring AFB, Maine 


Your interview provokes an interes 
ing question: If Herbert was not being 
huthful in his accusations against the 
Army, why wasn't he charged with mak. 
ing false accuswions? Instead, he те 
ceived ап hono:able discharge. When 
will the Army realize that it isn't fooling 
anyone by covering up incidents like 
this? 


Mike Hennessy 
"Tacoma, Washington 


It strikes me as obscene that 40-year- 
old retiring colonels will be collecting 
$10,000 a year for the rest of their lives 
as a reward for presiding over the Vict- 
nam debacle. More absurd is that we are 
now paying “active” colonels 525,000 а 
yeu—to play golf for most of their 
36-hour weeks. We now have half the 
number of colonels we had at the end of 
World War Two—when the Army was 
ten times as large. Meanwhile, scores of 
ex-GIs are vegetating as quadriplegics in 
rat-infested V. A. hospitals. We should 


drastically reduce the retirement rewards 
that are being doled out to that pitiful 
collection of pigs and fools who killed, 
maimed and mutilated some 300,000 of 
my peers and wasted two years of my life 
with their childish games and their crim- 
ht at 


inally irresponsible promises of a 1 


the end of the tunnel, 
Stephen J. Buder 
San Francisco, California 


Before being discharged from active 
duty in March. troops at Fort Leaven: 


worth (of which I was one) were given 
a gratuitous "fact sheet” about Lieuten- 
Ў 


опе! Herbert. and his activitic 
The sheet attempted not only to discredit 
Herbert's story but to impugn his entire 
military Guce. Thanks to PLAYBOY for 
g the record straight. 

Ben J. Allen 
Champaign, Ilinois 


settir 


As a former line infantryman, twice 
wounded, 1 found your Herbert inter- 
view сапа and enlightening. I never 
served with Herbert, but 1 would have 
been honored to do so. No one can 
know what it's like in the bush until he 
humps out there for a while, as Herbert 
has done. 

Mark Egger 

Williamsburg, Vig 


Im proud to say that I served. with 
Herbert, I never knew the truth about 
his being relieved until I read your 
interview. From now on, I'm not going 
to wear the 173:d patch on my uniform, 
and I urge all former members to do the 
ne. I know from personal experience 


t Herbert said is true. 
n't say, as well. I'm 
е the balls to sp: 


that much of wh: 
Ther 
sorry that I don't 


s much he 


out the way he does 
(Name withheld by request) 
Fayetteville, North Carolina 


I am presently serving a threeyes 


sentence for draft evasion. Your inte 
view with Herbert gave my sagging spir- 
its a magnificent lift. 1 thank you most 
sincerely. 


Larry E. Lupo 
allahassee, Florida 


Men like Herbert should be running 
the Army, not leaving it. When I was an 


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PLAYBOY 


12 


infantryman in Vietnam, I had close 
friends die. They were not protecting 
the security of the United States but 
acting on orders from West Point types 
who wanted to play army. All we can 
salvage from the Vietnam experience is 
a zealous conviction that it must never 
happen again. We must reduce the pow: 
er of the n ary establishment to fabi 
cate wars for our young people to 
in. We should begin by throwing all the 
Kissingers, and their poker-playing boss, 
out of the White House. George Mc 
overn has had friends killed in action 
in Vietnam. War is not a game to him. 
He is the man we need to get us out of 
this Vietmam—and to keep us out of the 
next one, 


Jef Henke 
Grants for McGovern 
Austin, Texas 


For the uninitiated—which obviously 
includes rrAYnoy—let me clarify the er 
roncous use of the word resigned in 
your introduction to the Herbert inter- 
view. When you resign, Uncle Sam 
doesn't stop at your mailbox every 
mouth with his promised stipend. Her- 
bert retired; he's still receiving the long 
green. 

Сео E. Bickle 


U 


5. Army (Ret.) 


Spokane, Washington 
Reader Bickley is correct. 

Your interview with Herbert con- 
med my belief that he is a loud- 


mouthed son of a bitch. He should have 

been with me in the Third Infantry 

Division in North Korea in 1950. I 

would have made a man out of him. 
William L. Tyson, U.S, Army (Ret) 
Adanta, Georgia 


STEAL THIS CONVENTION 
You caught the rhythm of a Presiden- 

tial convention perfectly in How to Steal 
the Presidential Nomination (PLAYBOY, 
July. I suggest you warn your loyal 
readers, however, to use caution before 
they search their rivals’ trash cans. We 
are now offering an automatic shredder 
that is activated when any object—hand 
or trash—is inserted. 

Murray Roman, Chairman 

Campaign Communications Institute 

for Politics 
New York, New York 


Few individuals are more intimate 
with their clients than are makeup art- 
ists. As a make-up consultant to political 


figures in both partics, I've received val- 
uable insights into the motivations of 
people in the public eye. The man 


running for the highest office, in his mo- 
ments of privacy, commands my sympa- 
thy. During weeks of pressure on the 
i l. the candidate's true p 
everyone else, he's 
„ yet he's forced by 
to appear superhum: 


The entire enterprise makes me wonder 
why anyone in his right mind would 
want to endure such strains. At any rate, 
Tread your satire and got a bang out of 
it: if candidates can laugh without tears’ 
spoiling their make-up, so did they. 
Syd Simons 
Chicago, Ші 
Simons is the man who first got Rich- 
ard Nixon to tweeze his eyebrows—"so 
that he wouldn't look so mean." 


MAN VS. MACHINE 

Take That, You Soulless Son of a 
Bitch! (vLavnoy, July) was опе of the 
most satisfy nkings of modern 
society I've ev 


Jim Vinsali 
Montreal, Quebec 


Peter Swerdloff’s article on surviving 
in a mechanized society touched me very 
personally. Recently, my bank statement 
made a sudden and unexpected jump 
from three to five figures—without 
deposit on my part. Being the sporting 
sort, I'm willing to play the bank's silly 
game, just to sce how smart its computer 
is. For that reason, I ask you to with- 
hold my name. 

(Name withheld by request) 
Portland, Oregon 


THE PEARL OF THE ORIENT 

I am writing to say how impressed we 
all are with Reg Potterton’s most excel- 
lent The Red and the Gold (vLaynoy, 
July. He has been quite thorough in 
exploring the various facets of Hong 
Kong. I am sure that his article will 
prove of great value to those of your 
readers who are contemplating a trip 
here. 


Peter Gautschi, Gen 
The Peninsula Hotel 
Hong Kong 


It is always refreshing to read abont a 
place with as rich and colorful a culture 
as Hong Kong's. And because Potterton 
es the way he does, I not only 
wished I were there but felt I 
Potterton knows how to expand hori- 
zonsand open up imaginations. 
Harvey C. Long 

Erie, Pennsylva 


as. 


ia 


article that 
the qua Hong Kong 
is as strong as ever brought back fond 
memories. 


Potterton's 


Memo Alcala 
Hidalgo, Texas 


TALL STORY 

As a mounta nbing native of west 
Texas, I read Peter L. Sandberg's story 
The Old Bull Moose of the Woods 
(rLAvnoy, July) with great interest. His 
rendition of the hero's Lubbock drawl 
and the portrayal of that character's 


pure spirit were perfect I was disap- 
pointed to discover, however, that the 
young heroine's grating Yankee accent 
was somehow lost between ear and pa- 
per. Could it be that Sandberg is himself 
a New Englander, biased by years of 
hearing Bostonians slaughter English? 
We all know that only Walter Cronkite 
speaks the American language perfectly. 
Jay Howe 
Arlington, Massachusetts 
Sandberg hails from Stratford, New 
Hampsha. 


Thanks for publishing The Old Bull 
Moose of the Woods. The Kama Sutra, 
cover to cover, contains nothing to com- 
pare with the pleasure of balling after а 
tough climb. 


Bill Jeter 
Chula Vista, California 


LIPSTICK ON THE COLLAR 

Garry Wills's article Sex and the Sin- 
gle Priest (PLAYBOY, July) showed an ex- 
pert knowledge of moral theology and 
was very beautifully argued. Wills might 
have added that Catholic priests do not 
actually take а vow of celibacy at their 
tion. The rule of celibacy is more 
directive of the Internal Revenue 
Service than an act of Congress. Priests 
of the Uniat churches, following Eastern 
Orthodox rites in communion with and 
obedience to Rome, are permitted to 
marty, provided they do so before ordi- 
nation. Celibacy of Roman Catholic 
priests was not seriously enforced until 
the 11th Century, The system does not, 
therefore, have apastolic authority. Even 
Saint Paul, in Z Timothy, 3:2, says that 
a bishop should be “the husband of one 
wile.” 


Alan Watts 
Sausalito, California 


Will's article clearly outlines the 
enigma confronting the Church: How 
docs an institution deal with a truth 
when that es the prem- 
ises on which the institu 
founded? As a 26-year-old ex-seminarian, 
І have seen all too ти 
—ex priests and ex-seminari, 
treated as unclean by the Church. Later, 
most of them found new occupations 
more fulfilling than the priesthood they 
had sought. In my own case, [ have 
found my priesthood fulfilled in educa- 
tion—as vice-principal of a ghetto jun- 
ior high school. My calling is as needed 
as that of the cloth, and celibacy is not 
required 

One word of hope: When I left the 
seminary three years ago, the wheels of 
change were already churning. Since 
then, even Rome seems to have sensed 
that something is going on. PLavnoy ar 
cles are required reading at many se 

is. Within a few months, I'll bet that 
Sex and the Single Priest will have been 
read by virtually every seminarian—to be 


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PLAYBOY 


M 


discussed with great interest and perhaps 
anded into term papers. What else 
п I say but thank you? 

Lyle J. Petersen 

San Carlos, California 


FINE WINES 

I am once again pleased to sce the 
work of Emanuel Greenberg in your 
magazine. I found his latest piece on 
pop wines, “Sommelier! Another Well- 
Chilled Bottle of Chateau Apple Dapple, 
Sil Vous Plait!” (mravwov, July), par- 
Мапу entertaining. It deals percep- 
tively with a topic not usually taken 
seriously. 


Arthur F. Dawson. 
Brooklyn, New York. 


SUMMER PATRIOTS 
Writer Douglas Bauer deserves the 
game ball for his No Place io Be Nobody 
(rrAvmov, July). It is a revealing look 
мо the world of the pro-football trai 
cunp. The drama of competition, 
where veterans fight for positions year 
after year, where recent college jocks put 
the squeeze on the team owners and 
where a man can lose his job literally 
overnight—all this is established. cllec- 
tively. I lock forward to the football 
season every year, and Bauer kicked off 
my adrenaline early. 
Michael W. Green 
West Palm Beach, Florida 


I enjoyed No Place to Be Nobody 
Some sections didn’t please me, but to 
dwell on them would be less than totally 
d to be objective when 
ing about your family. 
©з organization 


i. It is ds 
someone is wr 
That's what the Pa 
Пу is to me. 1 congr 
his thorough job. 
William Н. 
New England Р: 


Jr. President 
1015 


amer camp was immensely enjoyabl 
nificantly enough. I read it just b 
fore this year's training began. It occu: 
to me now that the only thing r 
from the 1972 camp was that Bai 
wasn't around to record it. 

"Tom Neville 

Boston, Massachusetts 

Neuille is an offensive tackle with the 

w England Patriots. 


SUPPORTERS OF THE CAUSE 

Robert Sherrill revealed more about 
himself in Cause Without a Rebel 
(etavnoy, July) than he did about 
John Gardner, head of Common Cause. 
Sherrill gratuitously maligns Gardner 
and his organization because both are 
respected by the establishment and be- 
ause Gardner has been wrong on s 
eral issues in the t. Sherrill should 
be so selfvighteous. Common Cause 


one of the strongest liberal voices in the 
country today. Because of its realistic 
approach—enlisting the powerful, re- 
spected and wealthy in the cause of 
social justice, rather than confronting 
them hostilely—it has been able to ac- 
complish things for all of us. 

Gene Franklin 

Seattle, Washington 


Being a constitutional conservative, 1 
was pleased to see an article crit 
Common Cause. But, alas, the comp! 
i dner’s organization is not 
communal enough for Shervill’s obvious 
Jy left-wing tastes. 

J. Hugh Smith 
Cape Girardeau, Missouri 


I find Robert Sherrill’s Cause Without 
a Rebel disappointing. What useful 
formation there is is marred by his spite- 
Tul personal attack on Gardner. 
John Holt 
Boston, Massachusetts 
Holt is an author and educator whose 
most recent book is “Freedom and 
Beyond.” 


VOICES FROM THE CROWD 
In Far from the Madding Crowd 
(rrAvnov, July), the late Ken W. Purdy 
outdid himself. More than any other 
automotive he understood the 
unique relationship between а шап and 
welled machine. His technical 
ge was unsurpassed and so was 
ng style. I will miss him. 
William Frank 
Chicago, lilinois 


Purdy neglected to mention one of the 
most outstanding Off-Road Vehicles. re- 
cently rediscovered by thousands of 
Ami 
can cover more difficult terrain than any 
other ORV. Admittedly, its top speed of 
two to fives miles per hour is less impres- 
sive than others, but it can turn on a 
ime and has а fantastic memory 
that actually enables it to step ov 
rather than destroy —such obstacles as 
seedling trees and duck 
nests. Also, the machine is amazingly 
quiet; riders don't disturb. others while 
they enjoy majestic sights and sounds. 
This machine costs absolutely nothing 
and the accessories—hiking boots, bac 
packs and tour guides—run less than 
$100. 


wildflowers, 


William Agger, M. D. 
Oak Park, Hlinois 


ICEBERG'S TIP 

As a longterm payer of extortionate 
dues on the black ghetto street scene, 1 
got suspiciously odd vibes, and felt frus- 
trated as hell after my t with the 
poliergeistic street-nigger people in 
James Alan McPherson's The Silver 


cans. It's called. the. body, and uit « 


Bullet (втлувох, July). 1 split McPher- 
son's scene muttering a bunch of muth 
and other unsuave stuff for not having 
felt any familiarity with the author's 
pseudo-soul milieu. 

In fact, the skull-drumming frustra- 
tions I felt while examining the confus- 
ing ballistics of The Silver Bullet can 
only be illustrated by an experience I 
had one midnight early in my pimp 
career. 

Love Bone Shorty, an ancient black 
pimp and coat puller (advisor), was 
dossing (sleeping off a drunk) on the 
plush back seat of my ride. I was a 
neophyte pimp checking my парз I 


spotted High Pockets, my thieving 
whore, on a tcnement roof. She was 
giving me the olfice (signal) that she 


was on fire with a highly respectable 
sting (theft 

Her enormous cye whites gleamed like 
phosphorus in her ebonic fox face as 
she leaped from an alley into my mov- 
g hog. She opened her legs wide and 
put both feet on the dash. For a long 
panting moment, she probed with fran 
tic index and middle fingers deep inside 
her vagina. There was a juicy kissing 
sound when she finally pulled the soggy 
roll out. It was a grand in Cotes. It 
stank like a sonuvabitch (pimps develop 
as she laid it in my palm 
I thumb-fanned the slippery score and 
was coolly shoving it into my shirt pock- 
et when I felt a series of vicious pokes 
between my shoulder blad Jmmedi- 
ately after I dropped my sizzling broad 
off, Love Bone shoved me through the 
hot gr “You ain't got no class 
whatsoever,” he said. “You excited jive 
as nopimping nickelsnatching punk! 
Sucker, it could be a hundred-grand 
sting, but you still gotta be cool and 
demand that the scratch. is clean, neat 
and tidy. You so excited to get a respect- 
able ‘sting you put the whore's stinking 
cave next to your ticker.” 

Since your author's p 
is apparently “soul-shit” satire, this ad- 
mitiedly paranoid street nigger must 
react icily to Bullet. McPherson's is 
fraudulent symbolism that characteris 
all so-called black urban youth 
and black nationalists as predatory buf- 
foons. I can only hope that my reaction 
to The Silver Bullet, if not shared, is at 
least understood. 


Robert Beck 
Los Angeles, California 
Beck—or Iceberg Slim, as he is known 
to his fans—is one of the best-selling 
underground authors His four 
Holloway House books—“The Pimp,” an 
autobiography; “Trick Baby"; “Мата 
Black Widow"; and “The Naked Soul 
of Iceberg Slim’—are among the baddest, 
and most realistic, accounts of black 
urban existence. He is currently writing 
a screenplay based on his life. 


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OTHE NATIONAL BREWING 


PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


rom those wonderful folks who 
ieii you the Kama Sutra: An i 
ventor in Calcutta has been granted U. S. 
patent number 3,626,981—for a batery- 
powered vibrator that clamps around 
the penis to stimulate the woman’s clito- 
ris and vaginal membranes during inter- 
course, Among the many virtues claimed 
for this device: “If used by personalities 
of great achievements, [it] will reduce the 
probability of their conjugal unhappi- 
nd allied mental strains, and will 
tend to enhance their conjugal and/or 
anquil 
brain, their genius may contibute to 
society." 


ness 


domestic peace, so that, with a t 


Well drink to that: А food editor 
in The Tampa Tribune noted recently 
that “tarts are best caten the same day 
they are made.” 


The Associated Press reports from 
London that clients polled at Madame 
Tussud's waxworks chose President 
Nixon as the third most fearful figure 
behind Adolf Hitler and Mao Tse-tung. 
but ahead of Jack the Ripper. In Am- 
sterdam, Nixon was number one. 


In an advertisement for the film Zs 
There Sex After Death? in the Durham, 
North Carolina, Sun, the theater inserted 
the following comment: “The mana 
ment neither condoms 
this picture.” 


recommends nor 


This is what's known as passing the 
buck: The biweekly Lasen Advocate in 
Susanville, California, announced а new 
breakthrough in the pursuit of fiscal 
integrity. "On Monday evening, the 
Lassen County Board of Supervisors 
passed a resolution pledging the county's 
financial resources to the Pine La 
Project. provided that all funding 
be obtained from the state and Federal 
Government.” 


The University of Houston printed 
8000 copies of a scx pamphlet titled 
“Between Your Navel and Your Knees,” 


to be distributed to all students. In- 
duded is a list of “surefire ways to 
get pregnant," 


Community pride in the ethnic er 
A sign on a restaurant in one of the 
poorer sections of Milwaukee proclaims: 
BIG MIKE'S GHETTO DRIVE-IN. 

Must have been some wedding! The 
Hannibal, Missouri, Courter-Post carried 
this writeup: “The bride was given in 
marriage by her father. She was attired 
in а floor-length gown of white peau de 
soie styled with a softly gathered skirt, a 
normal waistline and low neckline. . . . 
the bride's 


The groom was made by 
mother.” 


A Basque nationalist who turned him- 
self into a human torch and jumped 
from a balcony in full view of General- 
issimo Franco was sentenced, in Madrid, 
to six and a half years in jail—four years 
for "illegal propaganda" and two and a 
half years for causing bodily harm to the 
policeman on whom he landed. 


This slogan was proposed for the 
Golden Gate Bridge District's ad cam- 
ра ery—Ride Me 
to Sausalito!” It was rejected. 


ign: “I'm Bruce the 


Nice 
report on a tial app 
ing, West Virginia, Intelligences 
jury of nine women and three men was 
selected Tuesday. They were immedi- 
ately sequestered in a wing of a subur- 
ban motel, where they will love until the 
end of the trial, expected to take at least 
three months. 


work if you can get it. 


It figures: George Bush, U.S. envoy to 
the United Nations, was awarded an 
honorary LL.D.—from Beaver College. 


Our Yo Ho Ho Award goes to the 
gent who placed the following ad in the 
London Times: "Auention, ship bottle 
1 


makers: I offer you my services grati 


will accept full bottles of amontillado 
sherry or Haig and Haig whisky, and rc- 
turn them ready for insertion of a ship. 
Prompt, conscientious work guaranteed.” 

According to the Illini, student news- 
paper of the University of lino 
Chicago Circle campus, “The Student 
Government meeting scheduled for last 
Tuesday, in which abolishment of the 
quorum requirement was to be voted 
upon, was canceled due to a lack of a 
quorum.” 


The next time you're in Abilene, 
Texas, gentlemen, you may wish you 
weren't. That city has passed an ordi- 
nance stating that “no male person shall 
make remarks to or concerning, or cough 
or whistle at, or do any other act to 
attract the attention of any woman upon 
or traveling along any of the sidewalks.” 


How's that again? An alert reader 
reports that a paperback entitled The 
Spanish Cookbook, by B 
contains this spicy advice 
to be found in North America, but any 


bara Norman, 


"Rape is not 


firm white fish can be substituted.” 

As the sexual revolution marched up 
to the gates of normally straitlaced 
Walla Walla College, a Seventh-day Ad- 
yentist institution in Washington, this 
cyebrowraising headline appeared in 
the campus Gollegian: “WoMEN To ОРЕХ 
DORMS FOR PUBIC SHOWING.” 


The lower-priced spread: California 
state senator Anthony Beilenson recently 
introduced a consumer-legislation pack- 
ge in the state legislature, "One meas- 
according to the U. P. L, “would 
require rest rooms to post а sign if they 
serve margarine.” 


Our candidate for Most Active Sei 
jor Citizen of this or any other ye 
is George Bailey, a 75-yearold pen- 
sioner who was convicted of operating а 
house of prostitution, sex perversion, 
g for prostitutes and statutory 


procu 


19 


PLAYBOY 


20 


rape. When police raided Bailey's Wood- 
land, California, rooming house, they 
found him with three scantily dad 
women. Next to his bed was a cash 
Tegister. 


Wireservice reports have it that Mar- 
vin Cooley recently was arraigned in 
Phoenix on charges of failing to file 
incometax returns for 1968, 1969 and 
1970. Cooley is the author of The Big 
Bluff, a book on tax avoidance, 

‘The times, they are a-changing: From 
South Sudbury, Massachusetts, comes the 
word that Longfellows Wayside Inn 
(founded 270 years ago and said to be 
America's oldest inm) has changed its 
slogan, which used to read “Food, Drink 
and Lodging for Man and Beast," Now 
the sign adv "Food, Drink and 
Lodging for Man, Woman and Beast. 


Alter observing a number of men en- 
tering and leaving a parked panel 
truck one at a time, Toronto police 
moved in. Sure enough, it was a joy 
wagon. Sentenced to 30 days for procur- 
ing was a young man named Andrew 
Horny. 

The New York Times ("АП the News 
"That's Fit to Print") has reported on a 
new method of luring houseflics to their 
death. The device, invented by Danicl 
M. Stout, earch director of Whitmire 
Research Laboratories їп St. Louts, con- 
sists of a sheet of colored paper 1 
pictures of flies in postures that entice 
other flies to join the party. The decoys 
are shown cither eating or mating. 


As if attempting to explain the X 
rating for Stanley Kubrick's latest mov- 
ie, the Hartford, Connecticut, Courant 
listed the title as Cockwork Orange. 


Ir may be that reality’s shadow is 
getting starker these days, or it may be 
that imagination is on the upswing, but 
with increasing frequency, people seem 
to be turning to fantasy as the only 
reasonable alternative to hassling with 
fact. Not long ago, we met such a fanta- 
sist. Her name is Bobbi Teitel. 

Bobbi can't decide what she likes 
more, wishing or wish fulfilling. To 


complicate matters, she's gifted. with а 
k 


k for thinking of dreams as reali- 
s. Steering a course midway between 
the Great American Dream the 
Land of Oz, she is piloting 
enterprise, the Lifestyle Ex pi 
gram, which she describes as "not as 
much a travel agency as an experience 
agency. 

The 27-year-old Chicagoan, alo a 
vice-president of an advertising agency, 


and 


conceived of her program during a vaca- 
tion last year. “While I was away,” she 
says, "I asked myself, ‘If I wanted to book 
not just а vacation but an emotional 
event, where would 1 go?’ " After investi- 
gating and finding no such service, Bobbi 
resolved to start one and, a year ago, 
placed ads in a number of publications 
announcing, "YOU CAN CHANGE YOUR LIF: 
втуп, Name it, and we'll set it up. 
Write: Lifestyle Experiment Program, 
Inc, 400 North Michigan Avenue, Chi- 
cago, Ilinois 60611. 

Surprised and encouraged by the vol- 
ume of imaginative response, Bobbi sift- 
ed through the mail and chose as her 
first lifestyle experiment a 19-year-old 
college lad whose fantasy was “to relive 
those nights at the sock hop and the 
burger palace . . . to bop at the soda 
shop ... to be a greascr.” Fortuitously 
enough, an original musical, Grease, run- 
ning in a Chicago theater at the time, 
was a production that reproduced the 
Fifties ducktail /Chuck Berry/white-socks- 
and-olled-up-jeans scene in finger-pop- 
ping detail. For a $15 fee, Bobbi bought 
the boy tickets, dragged him backstage 
before the performance and convinced 
the cast to grease him up. "When I told 
the troupe who we were and why we 
were there," Bobbi recalls, "we encou 
tered some resistance. But the play h 
been running for quite some time 
consequently, when the cast 


nd, 
members 
finally dressed the boy to look the part, 


they began teaching him lines and got so 
up on the idea that they insisted he pose 
for photos with them." 

“The evening surpassed my greatest 
expectations,” the youth wrote. 

Requests keep pouring in; There's a 
man who wants to be a racetrack an- 
nouncer fora day; another, a history buff, 
who'd like to live in an “academic com- 
mune” (Bobbi has located two—one in 
New Hampshire and one in Los Angeles 
—but she hopes to find several others); 
and a number of inquiries 
which Bobbi cl: 


si 


are so easily fulfilled these days"). 

Simultaneously, during off-hours and 
at night, when she answers Lifestyle Ex- 
periment mail, she is also creating 
tasies of her own for the unimaginative: 
bed and board with a California beach- 
comber, living with a lighthouse keeper 
or an African tribe, fox hunting and/or 
feuding with a Southern plantation 
owner. But the bulk of her projects will, 
for now and the foreseeable futu 
self-propelled by her fantasi 
dreams are so much more in 
she says, "because they're so much more 
personal.” 

Bobbi reports that she’s now getting 
most of her requests from Califor 


("The level of fantasy is higher there 
than anywhere else"). Not long ago, she 
successfully persuaded the San Francisco 
Playboy Club to hire а Sacramento post- 
office worker for a onenighter as a 
stand-up comic. "He was, naturally, nerv- 
she said, "but he's got a great 
delivery and looks jus like Lenny 
Bruce. The only thing he needs is a 
writer." 

Bobbi, who recently spoke on the Life- 
style Experiment Program at a meeting 
of Mensa, the high-J. Q. club, was once 
interviewed by a woman reporter from 
the West Coast. 

We somehow got onto the subject 
of women's liberation, when I said, 
“What I'm for is people's liberation; that’s 
what my business is all about.’ She had 
nothing left to say 


ART 


A Saturday spent sampling the art 
galleries that stretch for more than a mile 
along the Upper Fast Side's Madison Ave- 
nue, with their atmosphere of calme et 
luxe, provides a serene contrast to the 
weekday bustle of Manhattan. Admission 
is always free, whether the gallery is situ- 
ated in converted town house, private 
building or street-level store; browsers arc 
welcome and the gallery manager is usu- 
ally on hand to inform and advise. Since 
there are well over 100 galleries, exl 
ing everything from old masters to ki- 
netic sculptures in this ara of New 
York alone, you should equip yourself 
with a pair of sturdy shoes and a taste 
for eclectic adventure before setting out. 

You might start just west of Madison 
at 20 East 56th Street, with the five 
stories of the Kennedy Galleries, show 
place of American art from Ben Shahn 
ois to Old West lithograph This 
month's major exhibit: the oils, water 
colors and tempera of the Ame 
master Abraham Rattner. 

One block north, at 32 
Street, above a spor 
the architecturally streamlined Pace Ga 
lery and iis display of contemporary 
American art. Across the street, on the 
sixth floor of what looks like an office 
building, the spacious Marlborough— 
cultural home of such abstractionists as. 
Rothko, Pollock and Klinc—offers a ma- 
jor retrospective of the scascapist John 
Marin. 

Heading north along Madison, tum 
left a few steps at Glth Street to number 
19, where Wildenstein's imposing dou- 
ble doors open into a mirrored, marble- 
floored petit musée. filled with ornately 
framed Légers, Remingtons, Hasams and 
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Big and Tall catalogs. 
Give-n'-Take I Stretchslaks and all that 
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PLAYBOY 


next stop at Knoedler (21 East 70th 
Street), а double-decked rectangular gal- 
lery in which classic and modern paint- 
ings are mounted on walls covered with 
cream- and chocolate-colored fabric. 

If youre ready for refreshment, pause 
for drinks in the Bemelmans Bar of the 
Hotel Carlyle, on Madison at 76th 
Street, where the tables are surrounded 
by the late writer-artist’s murals, and for 
lunch in the Whitney Museum's sculp- 
ture-garden restaurant. (Best save the 
museum's treasures for a separate visit.) 

Back on Madison Avenue, visit num- 
ber 980, the Sotheby, Parke-Bernet Gal- 
leries—the world's greatest art auction 
house. On a Saturday afternoon, a sale 
is almost always in progress in the 
third-floor auction room: somcone may 
be bidding $1,000,000 for a Rembrandt 
or a Renoir. In the t exhibition 
rooms, treasures still to be sold are on 
display, and you—the potential bidder 
аге encouraged to touch, pick up and 
otherwise inspect them as you can in no 
museum. October's highlight: the new 
art-world rage, classical Japanese prints. 

"The best works on display at number 
1014 Madison, the high-ceilinged, whitc- 
walled Graham Galleries (which recently 
held a cartoon exhibit featuring some 
PLAYBOY favorites), are by contemporary 
creators. This month: the previously un- 
exhibited major paintings of the Ameri- 
can master Edwin Dickinson and the 
metal sculptures of Padovano. Next door 
at Perls (1016), this month's feature is 
that gallerys first showing of Alexander 
Calder's oils, all done between 1924 and 
1958. Stop in two doors north at Danen- 
berg (1020)—formerly one of New York's 
most attractive town houses—to marvel 
at the motorized kinetic sculpture. of 
Robert Perles, (If moving metal isn’t 
your bag, the gallery also offers a sam- 
pling of 19h and 20th. Century Ame 
can works of art.) 

On thice of the four corners at Ma 
son and 79th stand some of Manhat- 
tan’s most exclusive galleries: Acquavella, 
housed in Lord Duveen’s former abode, 
impressionist paintings 
(however, October's highlight is a Miró 
п); Gimpel's clean-lined mod- 
tic gallery shows contemporary Eu- 
ropean and American works; and the 
avant-garde Saidenbeig, small but impec- 
cable, features the surrealist paintings of 
André Masson. 

There's no better place to review the 
days experiences over lateafternoon 
cocktails than the sidewalk Café du Parc 
of the stately Stanhope Hotel, on Filth 
Avenue at 81м Street, directly across 
from the fountains of that greatest of 
all art galleries, the Metropolitan Mu- 
scum of Art. Then claim your reserved 
table at Les Pleiades, the recently opened 
but already renowned restaurant on 76th. 
Street, between Fifth and Madison, where 
you can end your excursion on a fitting 


note by sharing rack of lamb with the 
artists, dealers, buyers and other art- 
worlders who have made this excellent 
dining place their own. Have a nice day. 

(Editors note: The scheduled gallery 
exhibits are subject to change. As a 
precaution—and as a handy Baedeker— 
pick up a copy of The Ан Gallery 
Guide, which pinpoints every major 
New York City gallery and lists its cur- 
rent exhibit. The guide, à detachable 
the monthly Art Gallery Maga- 
ailable gratis at most of the 
galleries mentioned.) 


BOOKS 


It's been only three years since Vine 
Deloria, Jr. pointed out. in Custer Died 
for Your Sins, that most book: 
Indians are written by whi 
quently, “They twist Inc 
a picture which is hard to understand 
and . . . greatly in error" Until re- 
cently, part of the Indian reality was 
invisible to white Americans—so much 

when Michael Harrington а dec 
egorized “the invi 
by racc and place, he forgot to mention 
Indians, though they were the poorest of 
all. Deloria and other Indian militants 
changed all that with their books and 
with their headlinemaking raids on 
such national shrines as Mount Rush- 
more, the Statue of Liberty and Alca- 
traz. Their success as agitators remai 
in doubt—Indians are still poor 
still powerles—but their triumph 
publicirers has been impressive. They 
have triggered a publishers’ stampede 
through Indian territory: So far this 
year, at least 75 books about Indians 
have thundered from the presses, and 
they're still coming. Not surprisingly, 
most arc the works of white writers and 
editors who, in the absence of red liter- 
ary spokesmen, have done their level 
best to project the Indian point of view. 
In Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, to 
cite a famous instance, Dec Brown asks 
readers to identify not with Custer but 
with Grazy Horse. Apparently, the nation 
is eager to oblige: Bantam's paper- 
back edition of Brown's sad saga, pub- 
lished last April, is now in its tenth 
printing, with 1,900,000 copies in c 
culation, Setting straight the historical 
record about whites and Indians is a long- 
overdue publishing service, even if it 
plunges white liberals into another of 
their mea culpa binges. It can do a 
nation no harm to remember its crimes. 
The danger in all this, however, is that 
Indian reality continues to clude us. 
Few of the books extant do much more 
than wansform the red man’s image 
from that of bloodthirsty savage to that 
of romantic victim. Moreover, books 
that delve into Indian prayer and 
poctry—such as Dennis Tedlock’s Finding 


the Center (Dial), a translation of Zuni 
myths, and Hyemeyolists Storm's Seven Ar- 
rows (Harper & Row), a spiritual history 
of the Plains Indians—sometimes pretend 
that Indians are omniscient, that, indeed, 
they possess the keys to paradise. Under- 
standably, in ап era of alienation and 
befouled ecology, the Indian is an attrac- 
tive figure, one who lives in harmony with 
nature and with himself, the complete 
тап. Yet to insist that the Indian pose as 
noble savage is to do him a great dlisserv- 
ice. His situation is considerably more 
complicated and more difficult than some 
of his partisans scem to think. He merits 
our understanding as well as our admi 
tion. A good way to begin is to read the 
autobiography of Lome Deer—Seeker of 
Visions (Simon & Schuster), as told to 
Richard Erdoes, a white friend. Chief 
Lame Deer is a Sioux; but "Our people 
don't call themselves Sioux or Dakota. 
That's white man talk. We call ourselves 
Tkce Wicasa—the natural humans, the 
free, wild, common people. I am pleased 
to be called that.” Lame Deer's long and 
variegated life has been defined by his 
struggle to stay free of white influence. 
In his youth, he resorted to all the fa- 
miliar and melancholy evasions: alcohol, 
outlawry and bumming around. Uhi- 
mately, he settled down on the ic 
tion and became what his first vision 
had told him to become—a medicine 
ап, а yuwipi, The ywwipi ceremony, 
which can be used both to heal and to 
prophesy, “goes back to our carliest times. 
‘The sacred things used in this ceremony 
are ties that bind us to the dim past, to a 
time before the first white man set foot on 
this continent.” Lame Deer has no illu- 
sions about returning to that time; the 
white man, with his "green frog skit 
(dollar bills), secms here to stay. Lame 
Deer's conccrn is to preserve his Indi 
ness, to keep himself and his brothers 
from being whitewashed. There is а re- 
rkable scene in which Lame Deer 1 
some friends are “sitting on top of Teddy 
Roosevelt's head, giving him a headache, 
maybe.” They have dimbed to the top 
of Mount Rushmore to protest “these 
big white faces” that “have made our 
sacred Black Hills into one vast Disney- 
nd.” As Lame Deer points out, “One 
man’s shrine is another man's cemetery.” 
If the Indians’ problem is to regain 
some measure of their dignity, this book 
may help. 


"I notice that I am a middle-aged 
American Jewish writer. How can this 
be? I, who was destined forever to be 
17, scl£created, with a world only to be 
conquered and all of history waiting 
ahead of me, find that, while I've slept, 
much of the future has mysteriously 
been moved to the past.” And the past 
that Herbert Gold uncovers in his 
autobiographical odyssey My Last Two 
Thousand Years (Random House) is a 


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PLAYBOY 


24 


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PLAYBOY 


26 


Jungian sense of Jewishness. as unshaka- 
ble and indelible as any myth. He finds 
it in his Cleveland middle-class Jewish 
boyhood, in the gentile world of the 
Army. And it is also there when he is a 
Columbia University philosoph 
dent, a Paris-based expatriate, a Gree 
wich Village stud (the last two sections 
first. appeared in this magazine). He 
discovers that even in the backwaters of 
Haiti. he is forever “hunting for Jews" 
and that "when a Jew happened, I was 
alert, It was an odd nostalgia which 
chilled and wakened me; I didn't know 
why. 1 know why; it returned me to 
myself.” Gold's travels take him through 
ge and a teaching cue 
Israel and Biafra and the Soviet Union, 
and lead him finally to the convi 
that “I have become what I was born, a 
Jew, a unique fate, a peculiar devotion 
to world and spirit wrapped together.” 
My Last Two Thousand Years is ski 
fully poured into the same parapersonal 
cosmic mold as the author's memorable 
Fathers: Yt combines a serious met 
physical quest and a swinging autobi 
graphical trip: the result is а book. 
good as Gold. 


stu- 


to 


ion 


There's every chance in the world 
that Jolin Barth is a gen: We'll know 
beter when hes dead, of course, but 
in the meantime, add Chimera (Random 
House) to the evidence that impresses 
his contemporaries and may da 
terity. Barth tells one Persian 
Greek stories in a style—well, in many 
styles, but the one that lingers could be 
described as a cross between Kurt Von 
negut and Time ma The fist 
section is titled “Dunyar: d" the 
f Scheherazade as told by her kid sister, 
who sits at the foot of the bed while 


ale 


Sherry and King Shahryar go about 
their verbal amd other indulgences 
Herc, as in the subsequent sections, it's 


ot the story that counts but the story of 
the story, the technique, the ап. To 
help Sherry out, a 20th Century fiction 
writer is genie-ed forth, an asociate- 


professor type, specializing, naturally, in 
Mod. & Contemp. 
ful hints on the g 
second. 


Lit, and full of help- 
mbit of suspense, The 
Perseid," is a freeassociating 
the Perseus legend. What 
seems to be happening is a review of the 
whole business from the shower-ofgold 
ation of Mother Danaé to the 
реп n of soul that Perseus is fecl- 
ing after so many years of man 

Andromeda—a retributive irony for a 
fellow who went around tur 


ge to 


capitulation takes place in heay- 
Perseus is going over the 
episodes of his life as depicted on a 
large marble mural. Lastly, the “Bellero- 
phoniad,” Barth's account of the legend 


where 


of Bellerophon, he who rode Pegasus 
and knocked off the fire-breathing Chi- 
mera for unappreciative King Горат, 
who was, in reality, sending Bellerophon 
out on suicide missions because his son- 
w, King Proctus, claimed that Bel- 
lerophon had diddled his (Proctus) 
wife, Queen Anteia, who is, as everyone 
knows, the dau of good King Io- 
bates. Gor that? It is with Bellerophon 
that Barth pulls out all the stops—or 
gos—and rings in everybody trom ? 
leon to characters from his previous nov- 
els Behind it all, there is r 
about art in general and fiction in par- 


des] 


1 


ticular. “Mythology,” says Queen An- 
teia, in one of her late transformations 


are nsformations 
by Zeus!). "is the prop 
* Well, then, тауар 
vesty of myth, storytelling, fiction. 
call it what you will, is the propaganda 
of losers. It's rich, hilarious propaganda 
Пот start to nish, and one сап only 
hope that Barth will remain court jester 
of а dying kingdom for а long, long time. 
The Breast (Holt. Rinehart & W 
ston) is Philip Roth's much-ballyhooed, 
extremely (fewer than 100 
lurgetype wellspaced pages) long short 
story about a teacher of lit who becomes 
а tit. As such, the poor boob delights 
having his nipple massaged; dreams of 
inserting that giant appendage into a 
vagina, My & 
convince himself that he's living in ne 
midst of some mammarian delusion. But 
he isn’t. If Pormoy was at bottom а 
prove prick. Roth's titular hero is 
doomed to remain forever a literary 
cousin of the heroes of Kafka's The Meta- 
morphosis and Gogols The Nose, the 
profound physical and spirit- 
ife. The burden of this 
short story is his complaints, some fun- 
у. some horny, but none dynamic 
enough to give this tale the breadth of a 
novel or even a novella, Viewed 
short story rather than as a bizarre pub- 
g event, The Breast descives high 
marks as an if somewhat 
lemic, literary exercise. It would be 
a shame if its admirably idiosyncratic 
to be obscured by the 
avaricious publishing procedures that 
went into launching it. 


(and there 
in Chimera 


a- 


nner 


slender 


аз а 


la 


From Levin one expects—and 
gets—a In The Stepford Wives 
(Random House) he repe 
cessful Rosemary's Baby formula. This 
time out, the gothic apartment house is 
a spotless new suburbia in which all the 
housewives behave like actresses in com 
mercials "too nicey-nice to be real” 
And, indeed, they aren't. For instead of 
a coven of witches, Levin sets up a 
Men's Assodation of Wizards, a group. 


ts his suc- 


“au- 
very 


of new technologists induding an 
i i I. the 


facial expres- 


sions. From the “filthy, crowded, crime- 


ridden, but so-alive city,” a very now 
young ms. moves into Stepford. She's a 
free-lance photogr: matter 


of principle, doesn't like to do house 
work. But soon her husband begins 
going oll to Men's Association meci 
And before long. she ica 
to turn—er rather be turmed—inio one 
of those chemically brainwashed dreary- 
dearie Stepford wives “pleased with de- 
tergents and floor wax. with cleansers. 
shampoos and deodorants . . . big in 
the bosom bur small in the talent.” In 
creating his nightmare for women's lib- 
bers. Levin is interested in suspense, not 
spoof. He lays out the mechanics of his 
plot nearly and twists the screws as re- 
quired, building to a terrifying, if telc- 
graphed, ending. The result is pleasant 
enough, one any Stepford wife would bc 
happy to read оп a Mike Douglasless 
afternoon in her immaculate Kitchen 
while sipping a potful of coffee, basti 

the roast and doing the ашпа 


Noteworthy: Readers who enjoyed the 
pt that appeared in these pages last 
month from Semi-Tough (Athencum). Dan 
Jenkins’ very funny novel about a couple 
of Texas boys who play pro football for 
the New York Giants, can now read the 
book in toto. It's a super bowl event. 


exe 


DINING-DRINKING 


Undoubtedly, the restaurant that has 
done the most to make Milwaukee famous 
is Karl Ratzsch's (320 East. Mason Street), a 
i е 1904. Over the 


of diners’ awards and a reputa 
irkable consistency. Natur 
sults from a menu. that. offers more th. 
just the Rhineland staples of be 
sausage, Once past the dark-wood front 
door, you're up to your taste buds in 
Gemiitlichkeit: Jolly Fráulcin in peasant 
costumes bustle past toting huge trays full 
of red cabbage and heaps of dumplings, а 
decorous trio saws out Strauss and Keeps 
the atmosphere from being too bierstube 
and there on the walls are—you guessed 
it—dozens of steins, Bavarian coats of 
arms and duked-up beerkeg butt ends. 
If this sounds disturbingly like your own 
friendly neighborhood rathskeller, fear 
not, for all similarities cease when you're 
handed the menu. Experienced Ratzsch. 
ers are divided as to the merits of the 
"Old World Suggestions” 
the “Daily Speci 


nd 


column. versus. 


we fou 


Schnitzel is exceeded in size only by the 


Jet-Set 
Loyalty 


“Have you ever tasted Ballantine’ Scotch before?” “Yes, on Air Algeria, 
Air Canada, 
Alitalia, 
American Airlines, 
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PLAYBOY 


house's giant apple pancakes; the th 
and delicious Sauerbraten comes in a 
thick sweet-sour sauce; the Pork Tender- 
loin Gordon Bleu is stuffed with ham and 
emmentaler cheese in a mushroom sauce; 
and that celebrated Strasbourg dish, Roast 
Soose Shank, comes mit a heaping por- 
tion of wild rice. This is in addition to 
the standard table-d'hóte choice of a thin 
or thick soup (the lentil. pea, potato and 
bean are superb), vegetables and а spi 
ach salad with tangy sweetsour bacon 
dressing. (Ratzsch's also offers well-cooked 
New World fare, but if you're. craving 
French fried shrimp or а porterhouse, 
why go to a German restaurant?) F 
dessert, there are dozens of tortes and 
strudels. Besides a Jarge variety of import- 
ed and domestic light and dark beers— 
which will be served in $250 hammered- 
copper steins, if you so wish—Ratzsch’s 
has assembled what is probably Milw: 
Кее' finest wine list. The Bordeaux goes 
back to 1949, that very good year, and in- 
cludes many ‘59s and "61s—although to 
drink the latter would be an impetuous 
nd, of course, there's an ample 
number of German whites available. Kar 
Ratzsch's is open from 11:30 A.M. to mid- 
night every nd accepts most major 
credit cards. Reservations (414-276-2720) 
are recommended. 


The Boarding House, at 960 Bush Street 
in San Francisco's midtown no place, 
sits triumphant on а site that has died 
under jazz clubs, a primitive theater. 
an ancient brothel and а semifranchise 
folk-rock establishment. Suddenly, this 
doomed location is the most popular 
and worthwhile mecting place for the 
hip and young at heart Recent per- 
formers have been Tom Rush, The 
Congress of Wonders, Bola Sete, Chi Col- 


trane, Tim Buckley, Merry Clayton, Taj 
Mahal, Earl Sauggs—you get the picture. 

m folk A bit of 
contemporary Gospel. ionally, the 
likes of Ramblir Шог or Shel 
Silverstein е а send- 


ncisco and they feel like 
g themselves on the best small 
ce around. Your at The 
Boarding House is David Allen, who 
used to manage the hungry i, Enrico 
Banducci’s storied joint of the Fifties 
ad Sixties and, belore that, played Dep- 
uty Dave on a children's TV show. 
You might not remember him from 
the tube, but his look—massive, genial, 
brooding in an apron and а Greek sailor 
cap—you will not forget as he offers 
you the family dinner (inexpensive and 
good) and the waitress hastens up with 
the house wine, and you settle in for 
reenwich 
Village-Barbary Coast pleasure in the 
amplified mode of the Seventies The 


сарай 


decor of The Boarding House is a San 
Francisco reformed-specd-freak version 
of the main dining room of a pension 
de famille frequented by, say, Ва 
ignac. Comfor 
he fountain is just beautifu 
says a lovely s 
hes. Tt changes levels. It’s 1 


"s too beau 
lights 


ul; it distracts. The 
consist of — rheosi 


house 
controlled chandeliers, plus candles on 
every table, non-rheostat-controlled. It's 


a decor that just grew, like Topsy; and 
1 its growing, it turned out to be half 
Joan Baez, half Juliette Gréco and Saint- 
Gormain-desPrés. Thats better than 
Topsy. A person feels comfortable there. 
As the great, huge ballrooms die, there 
has been a renum to small clubs, and 
this one, like the original Troubadour 
1 Los Angeles, is carrying on a tradi 

азу food (steak with mushroom 
sauce, homemade chili, stockpot specials, 
dollar macroburgers, scallion omelets, 
etc.), easy listening, easy prices, easy ev 
ning, Thank you, Deputy David Allen 
The Boarding House is open from б P.M. 
to 2 Ам. daily. No credit cards are ac- 
cepted and reservations (115-141-1333) 
are sometimes necessary. 


MOVIES 


Alexander Portnoy, the hero of Philip 
Roth's wildly comic best seller Portnoy’s 
Complaint, is a swinging attorney who 
describes himself to his bored analyst as 
“the son in a Jewish joke.” Wordwise, at 
least, all the jokes about creamed jeans 
e been brought to the screen intact 
by writer-producerdirector Ernest Leh- 
man, who allows Richard Benjamin, as 
Portnoy, to talk out his masturbatory 
fantasies ad infinitum. Even the cele- 
brated bit about Portnoy's violation of a 
piece of liver remains: “I fucked my 
own family's d "The trouble with 
Portnoy, the way Lehman and Benjamin 
present him, is that he often seems little 
more than а simpering twit whose total 
self-absorption finally becomes as much 
of а drag as his lipsmacking confessions 
of self-abuse. Robbed of Roth's pungent 
prose, Portnoy on film is broadly funny 
for a while—but only until the shock 
wears off, which happens distressingly 
soon. When all e!se fails, Lehman bears 
down pretty hard on toilet humor, over- 
stressing such episodes as one in which 
the teenaged Portnoy pretends to have 
diarihea so he can run to the bathroom 
nd beat his meat—with sister's panties 
pulled over his head—while Dad (Jack 
Somack) complains about constipation. 
and Mom (Lee Grant. an actress whose 
talents are nearly always wasted) flails 
at the john door, begging Alexander not 
to flush until she examines his pooh 
pooh. Even if that grabs you, Cod for 


bid, Portnoy deteriorates as it progr 
from a boy's juvenile fancies (introdu 
ing Jeannie Berlin as Bubbl 
neighborhood trollop who dispenses her 
favors while counting to 50) to a kind 
of psychodrama that ends with some 
god or other (Phallus, probably) sentenc- 
ing Portnoy to a limp dic 
performance by Karen Black as 
Monkey, the kind of simple- ded sex 
object every red-blooded American male 
chauvinist presumably hopes to meet, is 
pretty well lost as the movie goes about 
its business of quoting verbatim all the 
dogeared pages of the novel, Nothing 
outrageous actually appears on the 
screen in this prep school Portnoy, which 
projects the sensibility of a locker-room 
Joudmouth blathering about his sexual 
prowess, or lack of it, stroke by stroke. 

And Now for Something Completely Dif- 
ferent begins with The End and abruptly 
declares an intermission just after threat- 
ening to blow up its entire cast. The 
film's cast consists in the main of a half- 
dozen Oxford- and Cambridge-bred 
madcaps known to British television aud 
ences as the airborne writer-performa 
of Monty Python's Flying Circus, a kookie 
BBCTV comedy series d combines 
Mars Brothers zaniness with a belt of 
slightly diluted Punch. Under executiv 
producer Victor Lownes and director lan 
MacNaughton (who produced and di- 
rected Circus), the movie gets off a volley 
of wild shots from the buckshot school 
of satire, utilizing broad revue sketches, 
mated cartoons, photo-collage and any 
other weapon that comes to hand. “This 
film is displaying a distinct tendency to 
become silly,” says a somewhat disgusted 
rator who breaks in from time to 
time with flashes of fairly accurate self- 
criticism. Silliness aside, Something Com- 
pletely Different lives up to its title and 
ultimately achieves a. precarious balance 
between comic boners and solid belly 
laughs. The clowns in charge are satirical 
anarchists who don't always know when 
enough is enough, but you will probably 
succumb to their foolery, particularly 
when they spell out the terrorist tactics 
ol Heli's Grannics, a Clockwork Orange 
of little old ladies on the rampage 
in England, or when they premiere a 
and new audience-participation TV 
show called Blackmail, in which the con 
testants are challenged to remit hush 
попеу let a smilingly ruthless emcee 
revi their dirtiest little secrets on the 
boob tube. 


a 


Take an Inving Wallace novel full of 
uumped-up topical incidents, let Rod 
Serling adapt it in a format to 
order for prime-time TV and you 
The Man, all about the first black Pr 
dent of the U.S. Despite—or perhaps 
because оће presence of such assorted 


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luminaries as Jack Benny and commen- 
mor Howard K. Smith playing them- 
selves, the movie projects little of the 
conviction and cogency of The Candi- 
date, a far better try at exploiting the 
overheated political dimate of 1972, The 
Man’s major asset is a sober, understated, 
totally persuasive performance by James 
Earl Jones, as a black Senator who ac 
cedes to the Presidency literally by 
accident—other people's fatal accidents 
Coasting [or а while as an interim Chief 
Executive whose inherited Cabinet mem 
bers respect the time-honored tradition of 
white supremacy, Jones achieves a blend 
of stubborn dignity and genuine humil- 
ity in his portrait of a man caught. be 
tween brothers asking him to be a b 
Messiah and others asking him to play 
Unde Tom, Unfortunately, the White 
House, meticulously reproduced for the 
occasion. is staffed by a company of good 
guys and bad guys, expresing themselves 
behind closed doors in the smooth 
clichés. Martin Balsam as the liberal 

Burgess Meredith as the unctuous Di 
crat and William Windom as а waverin, 
archrival whose ambitious wife (Barbar 


ч 
ide, 


Rush) wants Aim to be the next Presi 
dent are all lined up in this smarmy 
portrait of Washington society. As the 


President's t daughter, pert. Janet 
MacLachlan adds а note of freshness, 
though she too suffers [rom the nervously 
conwived plot—concerning a movement 
to waive extradition of a young black 
Ani € who has assasinated 
the president of South Africa, While 
conspicuously corny, The Man at least 
voids the recent tendency in films to 
bend over backward to the point ol 
endorsing mindless violence in the name 
of freedom. 


Barbara Hershey and David Carradine, 
who are the best of friends offcamera 
(sce riaYBoY's August pictorial), за 
plenty of animal magnetism and plain 
body heat as co-stars of Boxcar Bertha. 
Based on the lively autobiography of Box 
car Bertha Thompson, the movie de- 
scribes milady's younger years as hobo, 
hijacker and sometime whore. Good 
gtiuy photography by John Stephens 
adds a Bonnie and Clyde touch to every 
соду location—mosily places where 
tire towns appear to have sprung up on 
the wrong side of the tracks—but Bertha 
just doesn't wail along at Bonnie's can- 


ny of the 
she with the 
born-n"bred country wench, Carradine 
with an ugly-handsome manliness that 
suggests а cross between Jam 
and his own dad (vere acter 
John Carradine, who plays the villain of 
the piece, an antitabor railroad tycoon). 
Barry Primus gives a snappy account of 
himself as a crook and gambler charged 
with comic relief, the kind of Eastern 


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dude who worries about being properly 
dressed when he goes to hold up a swanky 
dinner panty. Yet the movie's occasional 
fun and authentic Thirties flavor are dis- 
sipated in a scenario written partly with 
tongue in check, partly with head in 
muck. Producer Roger Corman, known 
from here to Transylvania as a director 
of horror flicks, is still peddling sex and 
violence of the old school. 


Four men set off in two canoes to shoot 
the rapids of a river running through 
the wilds of Georgia and find themselves 
tested far beyond their expectations. 
One dies, two commit murder and an- 
other is subjected at gunpoint to a 
homosexual assault by a pair of mountain 
men. Thus the dangerous games men 
play to prove their manhood are consid- 
ered in poet James Dickey’s Hemingway- 
esque best seller Deliverance, sensitively 
adapted for the sercen by Dickey him. 
self (who also plays a minor role as a 
sheriff). While the novel's violent ac 
tion boils to life under the sure hand 
of cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond 
(whose camerawork enhanced McCabe 
ё Mrs. Miller), British-born producer- 
director John Boorman seems to miss a 
good deal of the psychological depth 
and subtlety that made the book much 
more than a first-class thriller. Dickey's 
scenario still implies a lot about the 
там, beautiful river country that will 
soon be lost forever at the bottom of a 
vast man-made lake, but Boorman has 
no corresponding sense of mystery and 
sometimes lets the story lurch into mert 
melodrama. His handling of Burt Reyn- 
olds and Jon Voight as Lewis and Ed, the 
chief protagonists, also betrays some con: 
sciousness that these two are movie stars; 
and though both actors perform capi- 
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fort by Ned Beatty and Ronny Cox, as 
their pals, or by Billy McKinney and 
Herbert (“Cowboy”) Coward as the 
lecring sodomists. Admirers of the book 
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but practically everyone else should find 
enough spills and thrills here for half a 
dozen hell-and-gone action movies. 


Burt Reynolds seems more at home as 
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up to pleasant commercial entertain- 
ment. The scrious parts of the plot 
concern a diabolical scheme (master- 
minded by Yul Brynner) to assassinate 
some city officials, but there's other dirty 
work afoot. everything from robbing liq- 
uor stores to setting drunken derclicts 
on fire. Reynolds, Jack Weston, Tom 
Skerritt and Raquel Welch—the latter 
cutting loose as a voluptuous girl detec 
tive assigned to entrap a rapist—per- 
form with the breezy authority of actors 
who know how to play a piece of рор 
art for all it's worth, 

As Joe Kidd, Clint Eastwood drives a 
vintage locomotive off the tracks and 
virtually flattens the Main Street of a 
frontier town filled with a land baron’s 
gunslingers, every man jack of them 
mean as a snake. It's a fitting climax for 
a kinky hoss opera that resembles those 
Europcan-made spaghetti Westerns in 
which wood be a box-office 
champ. Clint may be a wooden actor, 
but the wood is solid stuff—finc-graincd, 
smartly polished and seasoned by many 
hard knocks. Jor Kidd revels in violence 
without apologies and the cold little 
smile that seems to set off Eastwood's 
tigger finger (and quicken feminine 
pulses) will probably excite future social 
historians as a clue to the distemper 
of our time. Robert Duvall and Don 
Stroud play a pair of screen vil 


everyone loves to hate, while John Saxon 
and Stel 


ia speak for the Me 
n underdogs who are fight 
ing to hold onto their land, though the 
debates about justice merely pass thc 
time until Joe Kidd whips out his gun. 
This is remember, 
where death js swift but hardly more 
serious than a showdown in Frontier- 
land at Disneyland. 


stwood country. 


‘The title Duck, You Sucker may in- 
vite audiences to expect more of the 
same blood sport from Italian director 
Sergio Leone, creator of the aforemen- 
tioned Dollar Westerns starring Clint 
Eastwood. Filmed in Spain, with Rod 
ger and James Coburn sharing the 
acion, Sucker has action aplenty— 
blown bridges, pun. battles, train wrecks, 
mple 
relatively serious ap- 


massacres and assinations— 
but Leone takes 
proach to this rambling tale of two 
unlikely comrades-in-arms who find them- 
selves embroiled in а Mexican revolu- 
tion during the heyday of Pancho Villa 
and Emilio Zapata. Coburn sheds his 
image as a swinging gang buster to play 
an immi Irish rebel who specializes 
in explosives—and he takes to the role 
with conviction, despite a brogue he 
probably picked up in San Diego. And 
Steiger, as а Mexican bandido with a 
penchant for train robberies, pours the 
spillover of his abundant emotional 


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38 


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Playboy Club credit keyholders may charge. 


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juices into a. performance as colorful as 
anything he's done since In the Heat of 
the Night. Sucker succeeds їп yanking 
some big-name talents out of their ruts, 
The effectiveness of films as propa- 
ganda was discerned decades ago by stich 
authorities as Ler and Hitler, who 
failed to note that it's easier to swallow 
a message if it’s laced with a little hu- 
mor. Comedy carries the day in two new 
pieces of political cinema, the better of 
which is FT.A, a film version of the 
antiwar revue performed for Servicemen 
ound the world by Jane Fonda, Donald 
Sutherland and the militant Free Thea- 
ter Associates. Photographed without 
frills during the troupe's Pacific tour 
that took them from Okinawa to the 
Philippines and  Japan—always in 
ts or parks or auditoriums, since 
were barred from U.S. military 


they 
bases—F. T. A. (for Free the Army or 
Fuck the Army, depending on 


your 
tastes) is quite accurately billed as The 
Show the Pentagon Couldn't Stop. And, 
in fact, the offstage drama might have 
ade a better movie than the cudely 
filmed performance onstage, for U.S. 
military authorities reportedly sent de- 
suoyers steaming away from ports and 
clamped on pass restrictions whenever 
T. T. A. came too close for comfort. The 
movie shows why: Any base commander 
might suffer a fit of apoplexy at the 
sight of black and white Gls, along with 
native sympathizers, cheering the biter 


songs and broad sketches about the U. S. 
could be 
making 


presence in Asia. “Nothin 
finer than to be in Indochin: 
mon-oi goes one spr 
and-dance turn (which incidi 
veals a bright new 
abundant talent). Between interviews 
with soldiers, there are sharply pointed 
numbers by Sutherland, singer-composer 
Len Chandler, actress Holly Ni 
Rita Martinson, poetess Pam: 
gan and a supporting 
conviction. Their seltrighteous 
ten threatens to become a boi 
humor saves them every time. 
Richard M. Dixon, the cele! 
actor-model whose resemblance to Presi- 
dent Nixon must be making him rich 
does a toe-tapping dance routine to in- 
Richard, at facile at- 
tempt to make the life and times of 
Nixon look downright silly. The title 
smg has music by Galt (Hair) Mac 
Dermot, and the screenplay offers 
cameo roles for John Carradine, Міс 
cy Rooney, Kevin McCarthy, V 
Blaine, Paul Ford and sundry performers 
whose political sympathies don't impro 
the jokes they're given. Dan Resin and 
Lynne Lipton, as Young Richard and 
Young Pat, contribute a few droll mo- 
ments as lovers who converse entirely in 
slogans, but Richard's funniest bits de- 
pend on Nixon himsell—who appears in 


troduce а somew| 


filmed political addresses (the famous 
“Checkers” speech reappears for perhaps 
the 100th time) while the sound track 
oozes saccharine melodies. Despite clever 
editing, this is satire made casy; the 
jokesters have taken aim—if you'll par- 
don the expression—at a sitting Dick 


RECORDINGS 


Arlo Guthrie is no longer just Woody's 
kid but a serious folk artist in his own 
right. His singing and playing haye both 
matured, and on Hobo's Lullaby (Reprise), 
he presents a nice balance of old and 
new, including two great Hoyt Axton 
numbers, two old pop favorites (Anytim 
and Ukulele Lady) and songs by Dylan, 
Woody and Steve Goodman. Arlo's own 
Days Are Short may be the best thi 
here. An impressive roster of асс 
ing musicians and some interesting, off- 
beat arrangements give further evidence 
that the kid has indeed grown up and 
come a long way from Alice's Restaurant. 


hard Roundtree, who got onto the 
marquees as an actor, makes am auspi- 
cious singing debut on The Man from Shaft 
(MGM). Most of the credit, though, has 
to go to producer Eugene McDaniels, who 
wrote most of the material and did some 
of the arranging. McDaniels is one of the 
few really imaginative songwriters around 
these days; his stuff frightens a lot of 
critics, both underground and above, but 
is favored by some of the best musi 
such as Roberta Flack and Les Mc 
(who is here hidden amid the background 
es). As a matter of fact, some of 
best cats extant here—Thad 
‚ Ray Brown, Carol 


are 


ус, Joe Farrell, Hubert Laws, Pepper 
Adams, among others—and, along with 
McDaniels’ own 
Pendarvis, they 


funky Street Brother, the whimsical Sagit- 
larian Lady, the pensive Peace in the 
Moming and а half dozen additional 
tunes. A lot of other singers maki 
debut LPs should be as lucky as Round- 
пее. But then, not many of them would 
be hip (or daring) enough to get Mc- 
Daniels to produce them. 

Solomon ("The Preacher") Burke has 
been dishing out boss soul sounds for 
a long time now. We're Almost Home 
(MGM) was appwently produced to his 
own taste and, believe us, it's almost 
there. The title tune is a moody master- 
piece wherein Solomon escorts his lady 
down South to the old family home. Рос 
Got to Do My Own Thing, The Things 
Love Will Make You Do and Sweet, 
Sweet Reason get into some mellow 
grooves; the latter also has a timely 
message and a nice sopranosax break. 
Everybody Wants to Fall in Love is in 
Burke's old-time style; Misty adapts well 


that makes it worth more here. 


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After we inspect the parts that go into o VW, we 
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factory holds up so well when you go to sell it. 

In fact, based on what's happened over the lost 3 or 
4 years, no other economy car brings you a bigger 
return on your investment than a Volkswagen Beetle. 

You see, it's easy to build o cor that 
looks nice in a showroom. 

The trick is to build one that still looks 
worthwhile on a used car lot. 


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Playboy Clubs are located in Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston*, Chicago, 
Cincinnati, Denver, Detroit, Great Gorge at McAlee, NJ., Kansas 
City, Lake Geneva, Wis., London, Los Angeles, Miami, Montreal, 
New Orleans, New York City, Phoenix, St. Louis, San Francisco 
and in Jamaica. < Playboy of Boston, 


to the r&b treatment it gets; and 
Drown in My Own Tears, done with 
acoustical guitars, is a gem. The album's 
only flaw is a tendency toward overpro. 
duction, which gets out of hand on 7 
Can't Stop Loving You. 


When Sergio Mendes and Brasil 77 cx- 
panded to a group of cight, they evi- 
dendy decided w set à new musical 
course, Primal Roots (AXM) is a far ay 
from a number of their recent, rather 
dreary "commercial" recordings, which al- 
ways seemed locked in the same pseudo- 
bosa-mova slot, The group is back to 
the heart of Brazil in a big way, 
with almost no concessions to current 
musical fads and top-40 whims. One of 
the great additions to Brasil '77 is the 
guitar of Oscar Neves, Primal Roots 
proves a revelation. 

Just when you think poppa's still in 
the same old bag, pow! Нез got a 
nd-new one and a lot of musicians 
ng to catch up. We're talking 
nes Brown, of course, amd his 
two new LPs, There it ts (Polydor) and 
the mostly instrumental Food for Thought 
(People). which features his current band, 
the J. Bs. Both albums combine groove 
music, such as Talkin’ Loud and Sayin’ 
Nothing (on There li Ву and Gimme 
Some More (on Food) with deep-down, 
b interludes such as King Heroin, 
which adorns the first record in its famil- 
iar form and gets an instrumental reading 
on the second. Brown may have plenty 
of competition for the title of Soul 
Brother Number One, but there's no way 
you could call him Number "Two. 

Elephant's Memory is a fine rock 
band that occasionally plays at Max's 
Kansas City, an "in" New York saloon. 
Just beginning to get some of the notice 
it deserves, the band suddenly blew it 
all by collaborating with the Lennons 
on Apple's Sometime in New York (A 
second LP in the album consists of a 
mediocre live jam with the Mothers of 
Invention.) Johu and Yoko's descent into 
smug didactic sentiment and facile politi- 
cal outrage has been going on for three 
years now. Their music, if anybody's 
still listening, has gotten so bad that it's 
moved beyond puerility to insult. Wom- 
an Is the Nigger of the World, says Yoko 
Опо from her perch on the bar stool at 
Max's, Tell ‘em ‘bout it, baby. By the 
way, whatever happened to John Len 
non, onc of the geniuses of pop music? 

The Great American Songbook (Atlantic), 
a big fat twin-LP album by Carmen 
McRae, is unquestionably the best thing 
she's ever set down on vinyl. Recorded 
"live" at Donte's, an L. A. club, it's filled 
with great songs, magnificently rendered. 
with the immediacy and electric excite- 
ment that only a live performance can 


engender. With Carmen are guitarist Joe 
Pass, pianist Jimmy Rowles, bassist Chuck 
Domanico and drummer Chuck Flores. 
Carmen runs through the works of 
pantheon of composers Side two pr 
vides 2 case in point: I Only Haze Eyes 
for You, Easy Living, The Days of Wine 


and Roses, It's Impossible and Sunday 
Ear-filling, heart-warming fare. 

Arctha's back to where it all started. 
Amazing Groce (Atlantic) is Gospel of 
such an incredibly high order, onc 
doesn’t know where to sart with the 
praise, Miss Franklin, accompanied by a 
rhythm section and James Cleveland and 
the Southern California Community 
Choir, says it all in the hypnotic tide 
song, but the sound that fills these two 
LPs—Mary, Don't You Weep, Give 
Yourself to Jesus, God Will Take Care 
of You, Precious Memortes and others— 
is pure unalloyed joy. 


Thick as a Brick (Reprise) screams the 
jacket of Jethro Tull’s newest The 
disc comes symbolically enshrouded in a 
funny facsimile of an English small-town 
newspaper that reflects all the bour- 
geois nonsense that Ian Anderson, Tull's 
guiding light, apparently wants to put 
down, But while the poetry on the rec- 
ord is clogged and obscure, the music 
stretches out in one dear, continuous 
flow throughout the two sides. This is 
English artrock at its best—tight, the- 
matically unified, with echoes of English 
folk and church music, jazz and Spanish 
rhythms. Jolin Evan's organ is outstand- 
ing: Anderson's singing and flute pl: 
ing have both improved since Aqualun, 
It he could only forget about his pr 
tentious lyric baggage and present 
album of straight music, he'd really have 


i 


someth 


THEATER 


Al Carmines, the hyperprolific song: 
writing minister at Greenwich Village's 
Judson Memorial Church, usually spins 
his soaring melodies and gently spoofing 
lyrics around nonreligious subjects. In 
Joan, the Reverend Carmines turns to 
al. This is an updat- 
ing of the Joan of Arc h Joan 


your average American homb-throwing 


God for source та! 


radical, She may seem like a curious 
heroine for what is almost a musical 
ical and quite often 
comic), but Carmines (as author, com- 
poser, lyricist, director and—on the 
piano—one-man band) is less interested 
in Joan herself than in the forces th 
oppose her. Despite an endearing pe 
formance by the stockily unchic Lee 
Guilliatt, the character is still a trille 
hazy around the edges. If Joan lived 
today, says Carmines, she would die to- 
morrow, He sinks his satirical shafts into 
social workers, psychiatrists and the 


comedy (very mu 


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church—an ecumenical vaudeville trio 
of ultracompromiscis. The chorus is 
composed of men and women in reli- 
gious habit. Nothing is sacred, yet the 
show is deeply spiritual. 105 the music 
that elevates Joan; hymns take flight. In 
Carmines graceful hands, pastiche and 
parody become a pop-art form. At Cir 
de in the Square, 159 Bleecker Street. 

On its own terms, Gene Lesser’s те 
vival of The Beggar's Opera is a roistering 
entertainment—but those terms aren't 
quite John Gays. When Gay wrote this 
work in the early 1700s, he intended it 
not just as a Brueghelian celebration of 
the masses but also as a putdown of the 
classes. Beggars and lawmen switch roles. 
Society is corrupt. Bribery cuts across 
social barriers. You can't tell a cutpurse 
from a turnkey. Unlike the Brecht-Weill 
Threepenny Opera taken from the same 
source, Lesser's Chelsca Theater produc- 
tion plays down the social comment 
plays up the sportive. The laughter is 
explosive, the cavorting epidemic. The 
tone is more Moll 
Peachum. But Cay's high-spi 
i , “newly realized" by Ryan Ed. 
wards—old airs transformed. And the 
cast is filled with robust singers. Al- 
though Timothy Jerome lacks the hecl- 

h magnetism necessary for MacHeath, 
Kathleen Widdocs makes an adorably 
innocent Miss Peachum, Marilyn Sokol 
is a properly pushy Lucy Lockit and Jill 
Eikenberry is a lusty Dolly Trull. The 
be less than Gay, but 
aded with comic criminality and 
ng bawdry At the McAlpin 
Rooftop, 31th Sweet and Avenue of 
the Americas, 


The widely heralded rebirth of Ameri- 
can theater, spearheaded by the gutsy 
producer of the New York Shakespeare 
Festival Public Theater, Joseph Papp 
(whom we featured in On the Scene last 
n't limiting itself to the bor- 
ders of Lower Manhattan, The new 
mood is a country-wide phenomenon, as 
decentralized and grassroots as a Мс 
Govern campaign, with all the sweat, 
innocence and ideological fervor pre- 
served intact. For polish, spectacle and 
sheer quantity, New York is still 
unsurpassed. But a number of Chicago 
originated productions—Grease, the Fil 
ties musical, and Paul (Sccond City) 
s's Story Theater—have са 
tional attention despite (and perhaps 
because of) their Jack of surface sophisti 

In a town where cynicism is a 
al institution, we've found that 
Chicago's experimental theater is not 
only less cynical than New York's but 
more youthful, more exuberant, more 
likely to poke fun at itself and—in that 
great continuing Chicago tradition— 
more lusily entertaining than New 
York's as well. 


а па 


In a refurbished North Side ware- 
house called The Body Politic, there is a 
play currently running—a wilogy, to be 
precise—so innovative, so phantasmagori- 
cal that it may well play à major role in 
shaping the theater of the Seventies. 
Its called Wop! and it's billed as "the 
world’s first science-fiction epic adven- 
ture play in serial form.” Writen by 
Stuart Gordon (who also direct) and 
the pscudonymous bury st. cdmund 
(Lenny Kleinfeld), Warp! is an aston- 
ishing tour de force of the imagination 
that flings the audience from the petty 
ofice intrigues of a branch bank to the 
precipices of the 81.0000) dimension 
and the impending annihilation of the 
universe. The action begins when Da- 
vid Carson (John Heard). Nebbish bank 
clerk, is nansformed. into Lord Cumu 


lus, Defender of Goodness. After first 


Cumulus is captured and 
ı Ra, where Lugulbanda, 
the seer (Ric re), informs him of 
his true identity and mission: to save 
the cosmos from the di 
Chaos (Tom Towles) and h 
slave, Symax (William J. Мо 
On an elliptical stage that dov 
а gym mat, Warp's characters strut and 
soar dough dimensions like laser 
beams through. kryptonite. Part Marvel 
comic, part gangster flick, part acid hal- 
lucination, part satire, Warp! crackles 
with an electrifying array of music (by 
members of the cast, otherwise known as 
the Organic ‘Theater Company) and 
special effects (by Flying Frog Enterpris 
es) that range пот drop-down "skleeks" 
(magic purple bananas) to palpitating 
stioboscopic light shows. The ray guns 
that actually fire, the green smoke that 
cores fiom dying aliens and the cosi 
by Cookie Gluck. (Carolyn O'N 
which vun the gamut from bare 
Pago Pago to rainbow-colored ga 
all the way to a Hour legged boxlike crea 
ture that looks suspiciously like an ailing 
Datsun’ 
less brill 


les as 


fuel filter—all overshadow no- 
t acting, Cordis Fejer аз Sar 
gon, the warrior woman, is absolutely 


calisthenic; Towles as Chaos, the coolest 
evildocr this side of eternity, delivers his 
lines ("This is heavy business") with а 
sassiness that sizzles; Heard is the ideal 
ley Dovight; and Fire is the 
prophet, Lugulbanda, whose 
its up like a Christmas tree as 
he enters his Lance of Ten Thousand 
Truths. They aie complemented just as 
ably by the rest of the cast. Though, on 
balance, Warp! is more theatrics than 
theater, it all adds up to one of the 
most potent imaginative experiences 
we've ever witnessed on a stage. At 
The Body Poli 2259 North Lincoln 
Avenue, Chicago. 


We weren't sure 
Playboy readers were ready 
for a blueberry cigar. 


We were wrong. 


You proved that to us when you tried 
our free sample pack of small cigars and told 
us which flavored Tipalet you liked best. 

It turned out you went wild over Wild 
Blueberry. 

Of course, you showed us you liked 
our other flavors too. 


We think that's because you're the 


keit ta mew EDE oan ОД 


life more interesting. Variety. } 
Tipalet cigars give you that variety. By giving you the tobacco 
flavor you want, plus a little flavor of something else. 


39% 24% — 296 1% Blueberry, Cherry or 


h h Burgundy: 
burgundy natural And when you want 


a change from that, there's 
something with just good, 
mild tobacco flavor. 
Tipalet Natural. 

But if you weren't 
ready to try something as 
different as Tipalets before, 
we'll send you a free pack 
now. Just drop a card to 
Tipalet, PO. Box 5165, 
Clinton, lowa 52 725) 
and tell us which flavor 
you want to try. 

Whichever one you 
choose, we promise it'll be 
more interesting than what 
you're smoking now. 


Tipalet 


chose chose 


blueberry cherry 


¢* 


Enticing beauties such as Playmate Claudia 
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music, food, travel and fashion . . . provocative 
hiis eee ose EE mee Wee eee 
tured it all in PLAYBOY —the one Christmas 


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Please send my gift to: 


yeer gift of PLAYBOY saves you e full $3.00 
off the $13 single-copy price, and a whopping 
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We even announce each PLAYBOY gift 
on your choice of specially designed greeting 
cards. One features Playmate of the Year Liv 
Lindelend and the other highlights the famous 
PLAYBOY Rabbit 

Shape up Christmas for all your friends 
with gifts of PLAYBOY! 


Please complete the following: 


Name —— E] Enter or renew my own subscription. 
УМК Total subscriptions ordered. 
аб нъ Zip. (Enter additional subscriptions on separate sheet) 
Ю Send unsigned gift card A or B (circle choice) $ enclosed. []Bill me after January 1 
to me. 
E] Send gift card A or B (circle choice) signed E зец ny bysev МЫНДА! Кера, 
From. 1 ER) 
My Name. 
Name. 
Viene pil Address 
Address 
City State. Zip 
City. State, Zip. Mail your order to: 
O Send unsigned gift card A or В (circle choice) PLAYBOY, Playboy Building 
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EJ Send gift card A or B (circle choice) signed *Sovings based on single-copy price. 
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Remember how great rum tasted in the 
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If you think that’s because of the palm 


trees and the sand, you're wrong. 


It was because the rum was great. 
Don Q? The best-selling rum in the 
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© 1972 DON Q9 IMPORTS, HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT, RUM 60 AND 151 PROOF. 


THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


Having been cursed with a low draft 
number, I'm now seriously considering 
leaving the country. The President's sop 
to the populace, not sending draftees 
to am, doesn't satisfy me, I think 
conscription is a form of slavery, wher- 
ever they send me; and as an additional 
protest to this violation of the lith 
Amendment, I would like to renounce 
my citizenship. How can this be accom- 
plished?—S, P., Pittsburgh, Pennsylyanis 

You might first want to exercise your 
rights as a cilken before discarding 
them—that is, go to the polls and vote 
your feclings. But if your mind’s made 
up, you can give up your citizenship 
very simply by formally renouncing it at 
any U.S. consulate. Other ways include 
obtaining naturalization in a foreign 
state, serving in the armed forces of a 
foreign state without authorization by 
the Secretary of State and the Secretary 
of Defense, voting in an election of a 
foreign state (this docs nol apply to 
those born out of the U.S. of American 
parents, who thus hold dual citizen- 
ship) commiting an act of treason 
against the United States or staying out of 
the U. S. during а war or national emer- 
gency in order to avoid serving in the 
miliary, Bear in mind that the penal- 


lies im some instances may be more 
severe than losing your citizenship. 
can't hold back my ejaculation long 


enough to satisfy my wife. While I un- 
derstand it may be primarily an emo- 
tional condition, 1 wonder if any of the 
desensitizing creams on the markét would 
help.—H. S., Phoenix, Arizona. 

We don't recommend. them. Aside 
from the possibility of an allergic reac- 
lion, in which the sex organs of either 
you or your pariner may break out in 
blisters, there's also the possibility that 
use of the cream will desensilize your 
mate’s genitalia as well as your own. 
You'd be better off experimenting with 
the technique perfected by Masters and 
Johnson to increase ejaculatory control, 
which has worked very successfully in a 
clinical setting. However, the technique 
is simple enough 10 be tied on a do- 
it-yourself basis. You can read about 
it in their book “Human Sexual Inade- 
quacy" or in Nat Lehrman's popularized 
version of their work, “Masters and 
Johnson Explained.” The latter can be 
obtained from PLAYBoy’s Subscription 
Department for $1.75. 


Ever since I first read about water 
beds (Bedsprings Eternal, тлувоу, May 
1970), I've considered buying one, hesi- 

ting first because of the price and then 
because of their weight once filled with 
water. They're cheap cnough now, but 


recently 1 read about an air bed that 
is supposed to be even more comfort- 
able than the water version. Before 1 
spend the bread, can you tell me if the 
г bed is the way to go2—J_ N., Boston, 
assachusetis. 
What you're referring to is the latest 
thing in four-posters, the air-fluidized 
bed, consisting of а tank filled with tiny 
glass beads. The beads are covered by a 
filler sheet and then warm air is blown 
up through them to support the sleeper. 
Invented by Thomas S. Hargest, director 
of the engincering-development section 
of the Medical University of South 
Carolina, it’s gotten rave reviews for 
sheer comfort from chronic insomniacs 
and from women in labor. Unfortunately, 
nobody's tested it for nighttime ас 
tivities other than sleeping—the con- 
sumer version is not yet on the market 
and the hospital model costs around 
$5000. 


husband is turned on by pictures 
15 with large br 
assures me that my 
beautiful, I am not big-busted and I can 
tell that. he i ted when he 
looks at me. Our sex life has been grea 
except for this, He tells me that he loves 
me, but 1 know he would prefer that I 
were larger, and this has been depressing 
me. What can I do?—Mrs. Y. A., Boise, 
Idaho. 

Stop fretting about it. If he's willing 
to fulfill his fantasies with pictures, we'd 
suggest you consider yourself lucky and 
keep working at what sounds like an 
otherwise happy marriage. 


For a long time, Гус thought about 
ay from it all and wonder if 
possible to buy an island, either 
a large lake or olf one of the coasts. 
Or have they all been snapped up by 
now?—D. B., Des Moines, Iowa. 

Islands are still available, though the 
chances of getting one cheap are proba- 
bly small You might approach a real 
estate firm that serves a state noted for its 
abundance of lakes and islands, such as 
Wisconsin or Minnesota. Or you might 
write to the Government's General Seru- 
ices Administration, which occasionally 
has an island or two to sell. Finally, you 
can contact an organization that special- 
izes in high-priced veal estate, such as Pre- 
views, Inc. (offices in major cities). Its 
latest guide includes listings that range 
from a ten-acre island in Wisconsin, com- 
plete with lodge, two cabins and boat- 
house, for a tidy $115,000, to such 
luxurious parcels of wave-swept real 
estate as an island, off the coast of Con- 
necticut (three and a half acres with oys- 
ter beds, a 14-тоот English Tudor house 


Playboy 
presents 


ur wild,wild 
West Indies 


Only one of Jamaica's many hotels has 
swimming, boating, golf, tennis, 
marvelous food, air conditioned rooms 
and suites. And Bunnies. 


It’s the same hotel (the only Jamaican 
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citation for spectacular entertainment: 
both Playboy-style and Jamaican-style. 


It's Jamaica's after-dark hotel. 
The Playboy Club-Hotel. 


ays 


as) 


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АТ ocho nios - JAMAICA 


For reservations and information, 
contact Hetland and Stevens or your 
own travel agent. 


49 


PLAYBOY 


50 


—unfurnished—and boathouse thrown in 
for $300,000), 10 а 650-асте island, com- 
plete with small village, in the Bahamas, 
for a trifling $3,500,000. Presumably, an 
island's price depends on its location, size, 
demand and “improvements” such as a 
house, dock, etc. 


playboy 
binder 


Handsome, antique tan leatherette 
binder. Holds (and protects) six 
PLAYBOY magazines. PLAYBOY 
and Rabbit emblem stamped in 
gold leaf. Single binder, MM198, 
$3.95; set (2), ММ199, $7.50. 


AX friend has told me d 
brushes are made with bristles taken 
from pigs that have been starved. I wear 
my hair long and am interested in ob- 
taining a good brush, but 1 also have 
strong feelings against mistreating ani. 
mals, Is my friend right? Natural bris- 
tles are more expensive and, therefore, 
I assume. Why?—P. W., San Fran- 
cisco, Califo: 

Your friend is wrong. Bristles don't 
came from starved pigs, they come from 
wild boars, primarily those in China. 
The boars are captured, debristled and 
released to grow more bristles, so there's 
a minimum of mistreatment—unless you 
consider a close haircut a form of pun- 
ish ment. Natural-bristle brushes are more 
ense than nylon brushes because 
it's difficult to get your hands on a 
wild boar, much less debristle him (the 
best bristles come from those parts of 
the boar that he has most reason to 
protect). More and more wild boars 
ате being domesticated and, since soft 
living results in soft bristles, the price of 
wild-boar bristles continues to climb. A 
natural bristle is considered better 
than nylon because it has microscopic 
“cups” on the shaft that tend to collect 
the dust in the hair as weil as to spread 
the natural oils throughout the body 
Of the hair; the natural bristle also tends 
10 be less abrasive to the scalp than the 
machine-cut nylon. 


the best 


Shall wo send a gilt 

card in your name? No 

6.0.0. orders; please send 

check or money order 

(including 50€ per 

item for handling) 

to: Playboy Products, 
URS 

Playboy Building, 

919 N. Michigan Ave., 

Chicago, Illinois 60611. 

Playboy Club credit 

keyholders may charge. 


[хе been married to my husband for 
five years and have two children. I 
do a good job of maintaining the house 
and caring for the kids, but this doesn't 
seem to count for much when we're in 
we have a wonderful rela- 
tionship—except for sex, My husband is 
ith business—he talks about 
little else—works long hours and usually 
pleads that he's too tired when he gets 
home. He seems able to go for three or 
four weeks without n thinking about 
sex and when we do have intercourse, I 
fecl he docs so only to please me, which 
turns me off completely. I don't under- 
| stand it; I had always thought a young 
America), a m sex urge was very strong. Can you 
help me2—Mis. F. S., 2 , Georgia. 

There is a strong possibility that your 
husband's lack of interest in sex may be 
symptomatic of a problem that deserves 
prompt discussion with both you and a 
marriage counselor or psychiatrist. The 
other side of the coin, of course, is that the 
fault may inadvertently lie with you. A 
man’s sex drive may be compared to a 
raging torrent that can sometimes be 
dammed with a toothpick. You insist 


mailing the coupon below. Please enclose 
a minimum donation of $2.50 per bracelet 
along with 25e for postage and handling. 
All donations will be forwarded to V.LV.A. 
(Voices In 


SOUTH BEND JAYCEES' 
PROJECT P.O.W./M.LA. 
P.O. Box 66, South Bend, Ind. 46624 


Ne. of brac 


that you and your husband have a won- 
derful relationship, but are you sure he 
thinks so, too? You say he talks about 
nothing but business, which at least hints 
of a lack of communication between you. 
Sadly, “wonderful” marriages are too fre- 
quently a mask for hidden hostilities and 
the growth of private barriers. The mar- 
riages that most often work are the ones 
that aren't so wonderful, that are full of 
problems and crises that require the 
empathy and understanding of both 
partners. If your husband fails to act as 
you think a husband should, perhaps 
you've unwiltingly allowed yourself to 
become just a housekeeper in his eyes 
The broth tastes better with a litlle spice: 
the fireplace is warmer with an occasional 
flame. Let your husband know, by words 
and actions, that he married someone 
who's more than just a mother and a 
maid; the results might surprise you. 


No: long ago, I was own out of 
а tock concert by the n т because 
I had taken in а small cassette tape 
recorder. All 1 wanted to do was to 
tape the concert for my own benefit, 
not to make copies of it, so I figured 
1 wasn't breaking any law. Did he have 
the right to do what he di H. L, 
Chicago, Ilinois. 

Yes—in fact, he probably had a num- 
ber of grounds on which 10 throw you 
oul. First, there are the rights of the hold- 
ers of the music's copyrights. Then, there 
are the rights of the theater owner, who 
undoubtedly had posted a sign restrict- 
ing the taking of recording equipment 
inlo the concert or had printed such 
information on the tickets. In addition, 
courts have determined that while a 
licket entitles you to listen lo the con- 
cert, it cares an implied restriction 
against recording it. Finally, of course, 
there are the rights of the performer 
himself, who owns his own singing or 
performing; if somebody tapes his per- 
formance, he is taking the performer's 
property without permission. 


The combination of women's liberation 
nd leap year is giving me a scare. 
Emboldened by the former, my girl is 
relying on the latter to rationalize her 
marriage proposal. She insists that the 
custom of women proposing to men 
during leap ycar has at some time bcen 
sanctioned by law, whereas 1 say it's a 
custom, like Valentine's Day, that is per- 
petuated by the people most likely to 


in from it and/or by those who are 
afraid to wait to be asked. Who's r 
А. M., Miami, Florida. 


The lady apparently knows her his- 
tory. The fact is that the Scottish Parlia- 
ment laid down a leap-year law in 1288. 
It said: “It is statut and ordaint that for 
ilk yeare known as lepe yeare, ilk maid- 
en ladie, of baith high and lowe estait, 
shall hae libertie to bespeke ye man she 
likes.” The custom had become a part of 


Feel the Black Velvet. 


Indulge the easy mildness, 
the delicate smoothness of 


Black Velvet. 


imported Canadian 
that honestly tastes better. 
Black Velvet. The smooth 


«ж Canadian. 


BLENDED CANADIAN WHISKY. 80/86 PROOF. IMPORTED BY ©1972 HEUBLEIN, INC, HARTFORD. CONN 


Youre in no big hurry to finish 


Visitors are always welcome at the Olympia Brewing Company, Tumwater, Washington, 8:00 to 4.30 every day. *Oly *® 


Fr arura эниш ® #” 


Quen s 


We don't rush our beer. We brew it 
slowly, and carefully. Doing alot ofthings 
that most other breweries don't do. 
Like krüusening 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're taking it easy with a 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. 


You can E through life with an ordinary rum that makes 
ordinary daiquiris. Or you can use Ronrico. Life is long. 


©1972 General Wine & Spirits Co., NYC, 60 proot- 


Ronrico. The rum with the bright taste. 


lish common law by 1600: “As oft as 
lepe yeare doth return ye ladyes have ye 
privileg of making love to ye men, 
which they do cither by wordes or by 
Tookes, as to them scemeth proper.’ You 
may point out to your girl, however, 
that these laws, and similar ones in 
several other European countries, pro- 
vided the reluctant bachelor an out. By 
transactions ranging from paying a 100- 
pound fine 10 presenting the lady with a 
silk gown or a fancy dress, a besieged 
young man could ransom himself from 
her claims. 


WI, site and 1 are debating whether 
to buy a standard-size or compact сат and 
I wonder how the total cost—purchase 
plus upkeep—would average out for the 
life of each ear. Can you help2—S. T., 
Cleveland, Ohio. 

According lo the Federal Highway 
Administration, a standard-size 1972 au- 
tomobile will cost an average of $13,553 
to buy and operate for ten years (or DY% 
cents for cach of the estimated 100,000 
miles it will travel). This breaks down 
to (in addition to the cost of the car) 
$2787 for 7350 gallons of gasoline, 
$2147 for maintenance, 51550 for insur- 
ance, $1800 for parking, tolls, etc., and 
81519 for state and Federal taxes. If you 
buy a compact, you can cut your total 
cost lo $10,808, while a subcompact will 
тип $9114. 


Bm afraid hat I have V.D. but I'm 
also fearful of seeing a doctor, as he 
might inform my parents (I'm a mi 
nor) and, worse yet, my girl's folks. Is 
there any way I can get around this, any 
clinic that would keep my scaci?—S. F., 
New York, New York. 

Many states do not require doctors 
to inform the parents of minors with 
V.D.: New York is one of them, so you 
have nothing to fear when you visit a 
doctor you trust or a health clinic. How- 
ever, ij the lests prove positive, the 
doctor may ask you to give the names of 
the persons with whom you've had sex. 
These people will then be notiied—dis- 
creetly—so that they can also be tested. 
Don’t be reluctant to reveal the names; 
you're doing the others a favor, since 
venereal disease to detect in 
females (many girls don’t know they have 
it until their boyfriends tell them). 


a „р 
All reasonable questions—from fash- 


ion, food and drink, stereo and sports cars 
10 dating dilemmas, taste and etiquette 
—will be personally answered if the 
writer includes a stamped, self-addressed 
envelope. Send all letters to The Playboy 
Advisor Playboy Building, 919 N. Michi- 
gan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. The 
most provocative, pertinent quevics will 
be presented on these pages cach month. 


is harder 


‘You can spend more for a camera, 
but you can't buy more camera than 
a Konica. Because in every price 
category, Konica offers more mean- 
ingful features. р 
Features like truly automatic 
exposures, set perfectly for you every- 
time. Plus one no other camera can 
offer: the Hexanon lens; the scalpel- 
sharp reason why Konica can claim 


Immodest? Ask the man who owns. 
a Konica. You'll choose one, too. 


Enter the NEWSWEEK/KONICA Photo Contest. 
Win а 1973 American Motors Gremlin, Pan Am tours and 
vacations, Konica and Ascor . 
or any of 100 other prize: 3EK/KONICA 
“Focus on Politics 72" contest. Details at Konica dealers. 


KONICA 


Makers of world-famous Sakura Color Films 
Konica Camera Corp., 
Berkey | Woodside. New York 11377 

In Canada Ж Films Ltd., Toronto 


Weare proud to contribute so little 
tothe high cost of listening. 
You may long for a stereo system that 
takes more bread than you've cot. 

Or you may think it's impossible to 

buy a good complete magnetic stereo 
system at an affordable price. Long 

no more. It is possible. The BSR 
McDonald RTS-30 gives you a 30 watt 
sensitive FM-AM stereo receiver, a 


BSR turntable (with base, dust cover 
and Shure magnetic cartridge), and a pair 


BSR of acoustically matched speakers 


with good response. You can buy 
McDONALD It's a lot of sound for the money. 


the RTS-30 for under $180. 


51 


PLAYBOY 


52 


|) ‚. гө Lis s» or 


3 Сия, 


Counts as 2 records 
and as 2 tapes 


2 П 
5185 GRAHAM NASH/ 5547 MOODY BLUES 1459 STEPPENWDLF 3170 BUFFY SAINTE- 7269 ENVIRONMENTAL 7846 STH DIMENSION "7876 NDUNTAIN/ 
‘DAVID CROSBY In Search OF Rest In Peace. MARIE Noonshot SOUNDS Nature's Individually & LIVE—The Road 


Atlantic The Lost Cherd ABC/ Dunhill Vanguard Music Yorkshire Collectively Bell s Ever On 
TT E 7859 PARTRIDGE ЕАМ. MIC 
1183 THRE! Д 
Harmony ABC/ Dunhill 028G DIONNE WAR 6164 JOHNNY WINTER (LY SHOPPING BAG 7833 DAVID CASSIDY 2058 ROD STEWART 
0272 DIONNE WAR- (2 LPs & 2 tapes) Buddah. eerist very Pictur 
0354 JOAN BAEZ WICKE STORY Bell Telis A Story 
AIDE серег 7863 MICHEL LEGRAND Live At Caesars Palace Yorkshire 8281 ROGER WILLIANS 
Brisn's Song (2 LPs & 2 tapes) summer 0г'42 Sout лом JONES 
1235 STEPPENWOLF 71 GREATEST FOLK Parrot. 5577 ANNUNZIO PAOLO Карр lose Up 
Ter tades оту Sinees or THe MANTOVANI London 
ABC/Dunhill SIXTIES 1044 BEETHOVEN * 7802 MOUNTAIN 0522 WOODSTOCK TWO 2640 GUESS WHO 
(2 LPs & 2 tapes) Piano Sonatas Flowers Of Evil 9058 2001. A Space (2 LPs & 2 tapes) Вот In Canada 
Feet Vanguard Yorkshire Windfall Odyssey MGM otillion Wand 
& Co. Deram *NOTE: 8-track and cassette tapes NOT available for these selections only. 


See why 4,000,000 Record and Tape Buyers Paid $5 to Join RECORD CLUB OF AMERICA 
when Other Clubs Would Have Accepted Them FREE! 


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AMERICA < Decor nens 


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Yes, take your pick of these great hits right now! Choose any 5 Stereo LPs (worth up to $33.90) or any 3 Stereo Tapes (cartridge 
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5564 AL GREEN 1377 JAMES GANG 5198 ROBERTA FLACK 1433 GRASSROOTS 8178 THE WHO 
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Live At The Riviera Way Street (2 LPs & a ч 
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3860 HILLSIOE SINGERS 

1196 GRASS ROOTS 3700 JAMES TAYLOR I'd Like To Teach 2718 B. J. THOMAS 
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Guide al this Special Membership Offer. Also send 


fr few labels—usually their own! They make here, you can defer your selection and choose me the 5 FREE LPs or 3 FREE tapes which | have 
You buy up to 12 records Or tapes a year Usually from’ expanded list later. You receive LIFETIME indicatet below (with a bill for a small mailing and 
Ж List Price- to fulfil your obligation. Ала E MEMBERSHIP. and you rever pay ancther Club handling charge). 1 enclose my $5.00 hfetime mem- 


you forget to return their monthly cards (which 
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NOW YOU CAN CHARGE IT 
If you prefer, you may charge your membership 
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LOOK WHAT YOU GET 
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here (worth up to $33.90) with absolutely na 


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for immediate refund of membership fee. 

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PRICES on ail records ard tapes made, and guar- f 
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53 


PLAYBOY 


54 — €1972 The Gillete Company, Boston, Moss 


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THE PLAYBOY FORUM 


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


THE ZANESVILLE STORY 

1 would like to expres my deep 
gratitude to The Playboy Forum for 
publishing letters (July, August, Septem- 
ber) about my husband's imp: 
As you are aware, Tom's convi 
reversed by Ohio's Fifth Distr 
Appeals. He will be home within a week 
after I write this and there are no 
words to express the emotion I feel. I 
believe the Forum's coverage helped im- 
mensely. I've received many calls and 
letters expressing sympathy and support 
and have not yet recovered from the 
pleasant. shock of discovering that there 
is nationwide interest in justice 

There may yet be а new trial and our 
local prosecutor may appeal the case to 
the state supreme court, but we've won 
on this level and now we can be togeth- 
cr while we carry on our fight. Again, 
thank you very much. 


Pamela Shuey 
Zanesville, Ohio 
Although Tom Shuey is free (pending 
further action against him), his brother- 
in-law, Terry Масе, was convicted in 
July on charges involving the alleged 
sale of narcotics and has been sentenced 
to 20-10-10 years in prison (see letter from 
Terry Mace in the September “Playboy 
Forum”). 


DRUG TRAGEDY 
I am disgusted with The Playboy Fo- 
тит" position on marijuana and other 
drugs. Read the Life story about Richie 
Diener and then think about the propa- 
ganda you constantly dish out on how 
harmless marijuana is. Richie's blood is 
on your hands, as well as the blood of 
countless others whose lives have been 
destroyed because they belicved your mis- 
erable theory that the weed doesn’t lead 
to hard drugs. I accuse Hugh Hefner and 
his editorial staff of being the most de- 
structive element, on a par with the 
Майа, in our society since this country 
was founded. May all of you rot in helll 

G. K. Donovan 

Tulsa, Oklahoma 
The article referred lo, which was 
published in the May fifth issue of Life, 
is the harrowing account of a bey who, 
starting with marijuana, became a mulii- 
ple-drug user and. got into increasingly 
violent conflicts with the authorities and 
his parents. Finally, armed with a steak 
knife, he came at his father, who shot 


and killed him. It is a deeply sad story 
and a complex one, and it would be 
Simplistic to attempt to draw a single 
moral from it. You, obviously, would 
like to believe marijuana caused this. 
Neither author Thomas Thompson nor 
any of the persons he quoted who were 
familiar with the case drew any such 
conclusion. The article cites the county 
district attorney's estimate that 75 per 
cent of the young people in that locality 
had experimented with marijuana or 
other drugs, indicating that this is one 
family's tragedy and justifying no gen- 
cral conclusions. If you want statements 
based on scientific evidence concerning 
marijuana and addictive drugs, they're. 
available, Here’s what the National Com- 
mission on Marijuana and Drug Abuse 
wrote: 


Whether or not marijuana leads 
to other drug use depends on the in- 
dividual, on the social and cultural 
setting in which the drug use takes 
place and on the nature of the drug 
market. 

The fact remains that there is no in- 
cvitable or necessary link between mari- 
juana and hard drugs. 


POLICEMAN'S BLINDNESS 
The letter entided “A Policeman's Di- 


lemma" їп the July Playboy Forum 
made me want to vomit. I am currently 
an inmate of ania Men's Colony 


for a diug offense. 1 find it impossible to 
sympathize with the police officer who 
went easy on some kids caught with 
Cannabis and who therefore apparently 
thinks he deserves applause and sympa- 
thy. If this policeman wants to be accept- 
ed with open arms by anybody besides his 
mother, he will either have to change the 
mire he's part of or leave it. When he can 


say, “This is what Гуе done to make a 
real change and not merely a compromise 
with the existing absurdities,” when he 


stops merely spraying on deodorant and 
takes a thorough bath, then maybe ГШ 
be ready to listen. 

Steven Robert Wells 
ifornia Men's Colony 
San Luis Obispo, California 


COMPARING POT WITH BOOZE 

Many of those who favor lc ion 
of marijuana contend that pot is no more 
harmful than alcohol This is an un- 
sound comparison. The drinker does not 


Га М) 


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55 


PLAYBOY 


56 


drink in order to get drunk; he does so 
because he likes the taste of his favorite 
concoction. Bartenders make their liv 
ing by being able to make drinks to 
satisfy a variety of рсоріс. The pot 
smoker, on the other hand, smokes i 

order to get high, and he puts up with 
the bad taste and а burned throat to do 
so. Therefore, we should compare smok- 
ing pot пог to drinking but to drunken- 
ness. To be consistent, if we legalize 
marijuana, we'll also have to legalize 
drunkenness. 


Thomas W. Gape 

Grand Rapids. Michigan 

Drunkenness should nol be illegal, 

though people should be held accounta- 

ble for any damage they do while drunk 

—and they usually are. Let the pot 

er, loo, be brought to book not for 

ng high but for any harm he does while 
high. Fair enough? 


DRUG-ANALYSIS SERVICE 


alter six months of requiring the labora 
tory to collect the names of persons who 

itted samples The service, Analysis 
provides unbiased informa 
true content of street 


subi 
Anony 
tion about the 
drugs to individu 
Anyone may submit drug samples for 
testing, without of legal involve 
it, in person or by mailing 
to Pharm boratories, 1818 
Bay Road, Palo Alto, California 94303, 
enclosing ten dollars per sample and 
identifying it with any five-digi 
ber. After исе days. test 
received by calling the laboratory at 


(115) 3229919 aud referring to the 
numbe chem asks that people 
include ation regarding the al 


leged content of the drug, its origin by 
cour 


city € 
inform; 
and disuibuced, 
Lawrence Goldman, Ph.D. 
Palo Alto, California 


ıd the street price. This 


MISSION: DEBATABLE 
Everyone is st crime, but I'm be 


19 с next average liberal guy 
you meet what he th the TV 
drama Mission: Impossible. He probably 


won't see wrong with ii; yet, if 
you asked м or not lie favored 
ernment agents’ assaulting and kidnaping 


people suspected of crimes, search 
their homes without war 
conspiring to commit murder by proxy 
through various elaborate deceptions, he 
would say thats criminal—fascistic, 
fact—and he’s against it. 

That Mission: Impossible, one of the 
most popular shows on television, pro- 
motes a morility that puts the agents 


FORUM NEWSFRONT 
a survey of events related to issues raised by “the playboy philosophy" 


IN THE LINE OF DUTY 

SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO The. superin- 
tendent of police has ordered his depart- 
menl’s vice squad to abandon their 
successful tactic of securing evidence 
against prostitutes by having sexual in- 
tercourse with them. A vice-squad officer 
had instituted the practice because, he 
said, evidence of invitations and pay- 
ments wasn't standing up in court. 

Im Evansville, Indiana, two women 
working in a massage parlor have been 
indicted jor performing acts of sodomy 
on undercover policemen. Police said 
four young unmarried officers volun- 
teered jor the duty. 


JUSTICE TRIUMPHS—BARELY 
saN FRANCISCO—The California su- 
preme court has ruled unanimously that 
nudity in secluded places does not con- 
stilule indecent exposure under state 
law. The decision overturned the convic- 
tion of a man arrested for sun-bathing 
in the nude on what he thought was 
an isolated stretch of beach. While he 
dozed in the sun, some people arrived 
and called the police, He was convicted 
of indecent exposure, given a three-year 
suspended sentence, placed on proba- 
lion and ordered for the rest of his life 
to register as a sex offender їп any 
community where he might live. 


SOLVING PROBLEM PREGNANCIES 

DEWSBURY, ENGLAND—A British social- 
services director surveying local mental 
institutions found two sane women in- 
mates who had been committed in the 
Twenties as "moral. defectives” because 
they had given birth to illegitimate 
children. In cach case, parents had 
approached. local. authorities, who. desig- 
nated the women, aged 20 and 23, sub- 
normal under mental-deficiency laws then 
in force. When the laws were eventually 
repealed, the women remained in the 
institution because they had nowhere to 
go. Now 64 and 74, they have been 
transferred lo a home for the elderly; 
but the social-services official expressed 
concern that there could be similar cases 
at many other mental hospitals in the 
country. 


ABORTION REACTIONS 

A Harvard University psychiatric eam 
studied 100 women who had obtained 
abortions and found that 9I experienced 
no significant regrets, guilt feclings or 


other adverse psychological reactions. 


The researchers stated that concern over 
the emotional consequences of abortion 
appeared to be generally unfounded сх- 
cept in cases where a woman is pressured 


into terminating a pregnancy against her 
wishes. However, abortions may place 
considerable emotional strain on some 
medical personnel who perform them. A 
University of North Carolina psychiatrist 
told the American Psychiatric Assoctation 
that interviews indicate some doctors and 
many nurses dislike both the operation 
and the patients who undergo it for 
other than purely medical reasons, 


FETUS STATUS 

ALBANY, NEW YorK—New York's non- 
restrictive abortion law has been upheld 
by the New York court of appeals, the 
highest court in the state, which ruled five 
to two against an argument that feluses 
are legal perous with constitutional 
rights. The suit had been brought by a 
40-year-old unmarried Catholic law pro- 
fessor at Fordham University who carlier 
had obtained a court order appointing 
him legal guardian of unborn fetuses. 

Elsewhere: 

* In Hartford, Connecticut, a three- 
judge Federal court restrained the slate 
from enforcing its new, strict abortion 
law in the case of a 16-year-old unmar- 
ried girl seeking a legal abortion. The 
same panel of judges had found the 
state's old abortion law unconstitutional 
and said there was “sufficient probabil- 
ily" that the new law, passed by the 
legislature in a special session, would be 
found unconstitutional also. 

* In Washington, D. C., a Federal dis- 
trict court ordered the District of Colum- 
bia General Hospital to stop requiring 
consent of the husband when a married 
woman applies for an abortion or 
sterilization. 

* The Pennsylvania Abortion Law 
Commission, consisting of 23 women ap- 
pointed by Governor Milion Shapp, 
ended five months of hearings and study 
wilh the majority recommending "the 
removal of all criminal sanctions against 
abortion except those relating to the 
state's. legitimate role in safeguarding 
the health of women.” 

+ In Boston, the Commission on the 
Status of Women, in its final repont to 
Governor Francis W. Sargent, recom- 
mended the repeal of state laws restricting 
abortion. The commission also recom- 
mended expanded sex education and 
estimated that more than 50 percent of 
high school brides are pregnant at the 
allar. 

* The question of legal abortion will 
be on the November ballot in Michigan 
and probably in Florida as a result of 
initiative campaigns in both states (see 
letter titled “Abortion on the Ballot” 
in this month’s “Playboy Forum") 


HONEYMOON MANUAL 
пмохо, VIRGINIA—Virginia residents 
will be issued a booklet on contracep- 
tion with every marriage license. The 
state assembly provided for the service 
in one of the public-health bills it passed, 
and the response to the policy has 
been generally favorable. However, one 
slate senalor said the pamphlet should 
be mailed out instead of handed out 
because it detracts from the romance 
of getting a license and might even 
be an unpleasant reminder. He asked: 
“What about people who are going down 
there to get the license because they 
didn't know about birth control? How 
do you think they're going to fi 


SPIRIT OF THE LAW 

COLUMBUS, O10 —The state of Ohio has 
used a century-old prostitution law to per- 
manently enjoin a Cleveland metal-plat- 
ing company from dumping dangerous 
wasles into a viver. The law prohibits 
creating a public nuisance. 


THE PRODUCERS 

VAN NUYS, CALIFORNIA—Sherif’s depu- 
ties raided a home, seized cameras, 
whips, chains, small quantities of mari- 
juana and hashish, and arrested nine 
persons allegedly planning to make 
pornographic movies. The nine were 
charged with conspiracy to commit sex 
perversion, conspiracy to publish and 
distribute obscene matter, and possession 
of narcotics and paraphernalia. The 
undercover agents who infiltrated the 
group reportedly put up $5000 toward 
financing the operation. 


FREEDOM FROM WORSHIP 
WASHINGTON, D.C.—Cadets and mid- 
shipmen at the U.S. Service academies 
атс no longer forced to go to church on 
Sunday. Ending 150 years of military 
tradition, a U.S. court of appeals ruled 
that compulsory chapel attendance vio- 
lates the First Amendment's prohibition 
against the establishment of religion, 
Among the high ranking officers who de- 
fended the old policy was an admiral 
who testified that “an atheist could not 
be as great a military official as опе who 
is not an atheist.” The Defense Depart- 


ment may appeal the decision to the 
Supreme Court. 


DELAWARE SPARES THE ROD 
DOVER, PELAWARE—Delaware has oj- 
ficially retired its whipping post. Gov- 
eror Russell W. Peterson signed a bill 
revising the state’s criminal code and 
eliminating the last corporal punishment 
laws remaining in the United States, 


TRUTHSPEAK 

SPRINGFIELD, vircinta—An industrial- 
security firm has developed a new type 
of lie detector that measures psychologi- 


cal stress by analyzing the subject's voice 
frequencies. The device, called a Psycho- 
logical Stress Evaluator (P.S.E.), al- 
ready has been used in a few criminal 
cases with apparent success. However, it 
has met opposition from some profes- 
sional polygraph operators who fear that 
it may not adequately differentiate be- 
tween stress from lying and stress from 
other causes; they also object because it 
has the potential for being used coveri 
ly, without the subject’s knowledge. The 
company claims that the Р. 5. E, proved 
accurate 94.7 percent of the lime in 25 
tests using the television program “To 
Tell the Truth.” A spokesman for the 
company said that, to his knowledge, the 
detector has not yet been used to judge 
the truth of statements made by politi- 
cians on lelevised news conferences. 


STICE FOR SKYJACKERS 

ANcELES—Like frontier horse 
thieves, skyjackers should get a quick, 
Jair trial followed by hanging, according 
lo Los Angeles chief of police Edward 
M. Davis. Talking with newsmen, Chief 
Davis said: “1 would recommend we have 
« portable courtroom on a big bus and a 
portable gallows and, after we get the 
death penalty put back in, we conduct 
a rapid trial Jor a hijacker out there and 
then we hang him with due process of 
law out there at the airport.” 


WIN A FEW, LOSE A FEW 

WASHINGTON, D. C—The U. 5. Supreme 
Court soundly rejected the Nixon Ad- 
ministyation’s contention that, in the 
interest of national security, the Govern- 
ment has the vight to wite-tap radicals 
without obtaining warrants. Voling 
eight to zero, the Court held that free 
dom for private dissent “cannot safely 
be guaranteed. if domestic-security sur- 
veillances may be conducted solely with- 
їп the disretion of the Executive 
branch.” The Justice Department had 
never claimed such power until then- 
Attorney General John N. Mitchell, sup- 
ported by President Nixon, argued that 
the Government's authority lo conduct 
unrestricted suvvetllance of foreign agents 
extended to domestic dissenters whom 
the Executive branch deemed a threat to 
national зеситїї 

In another First Amendment case, the 
Court ruled that newsmen may be called 
as witnesses and forced to reveal con- 
fidential news sources. The majority 
opinion held that this compelled news. 
men 10 perform only “the citizen's normal 
duly.” Justice Potter Stewart, dissenting, 
argued that the ruling “invites state and 
Federal authorities lo undermine the 
historic independence of the press by 
attempling to annex the journalistic 
profession as an investigative arm of 
government.” 


c above the law—the very same 
morality employed by Hitler and Stalin 
— gives me у feeling in the pit of 

у stomach, and it brings to mind a fact 
that most of us would like to forget: The 
morality of dictatorship may be closer to 
the heart of the average man than the 
morality of freedom. 

Im opposed to censorship. even of 


such an evil example of ethical degrada 
tion as Mission; but there is no point 
in ignoring the ethical aspect of mass 

ia content, either. If broadcasters 


Mein Kampf on prime time, 
nes such as PLAYBOY would 
take note. As it is, you had better е 
note of phenomena like Mission, unless 
you want to be drugged, kidnaped and 
defrauded yourselves someday by zealous 
defenders of the official line who grew 
up watching this sh 
Ant Kleps. Chief Boo Hoo 
The Neo-American Church. 
San Cristobal, New Mexico 


LIFE FOR BURGLARY 

To add to your collection of horror 
stories about injustices, here's what hap- 
pened to science-fiction writer James Nel- 
son Coleman: In 1961, Coleman was 
convicted of unarmed burglary. His sen- 
tence was lif 


While in с to 
write and he has bee g ош and 
selling a novel a year since 1967. He 


wrote to the Science Fiction Writers of 
America for some information and when 
[learned about his case, 1 asked other 
writers for help. Randall Garrett and 
Joc Hensley were particularly active in 
raising mouey and geuing legal mach 
cry going for a review. After а hear- 
ing, Coleman was released in 
Without the help of his fellow writers 
and of his readers, Coleman might still be 
serving a Ше sentence for a crime that 
did not involve injury or violence. 

To say that the reason for thi: 
Jim Coleman is black would ov 
fy the issue. The law that allows for this 
kind of sentence is on the books and it 
could be used against anybody. As such, 
it is a threat to everyone, 


is chat 


of America 
Albany, California 


PRISON REFORMER PERSECUTED 

As ane of the attorneys represent 
Mrs, Frances Jalet Cruz in the law: 
just tied here in Houston, I want to 
thank the Playboy Foundation for its 
contribution to the American Civil 
erties Union chapter here, which will 
help defray the cost of defending her. 
Ithough testimony has been concluded 
n this case, no opinion has yet been 
endered by the judge. 

Mrs. Cruz is a 61-year-old lawyer who 
lus represented prisoners under thc 
juristiaion of the Texas Department 


57 


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of Corrections in civilrights suits and 
habeas-corpus suits without fee for almost 
five years. Suit was brought against her 
by three prisoners who claim that she 
was acting in a conspiracy with her 
inmateclients to threaten, intimidate, 
assault or kill them in order to take over 
the prison system by revolutionary 
means. They sought to have her barred 
from the prison system. In the opinion 
of Mrs Cruz's lawyers the prison 
tiffs were prompted to make these 
tastic charges by authorities who do 
not want pul brought to bear on 
administrative policies of the Texas De- 
tment of Corrections, and this action 
against her amounts to nothing more 


than a witch-hant, 
We were able to show that, for the 
rt, the witnesses called by the 
plaintiffs indulged themselves in a con. 
siderable amount of lying. In many in- 
stances, we were able to prove that Mrs. 
ts were not even at places 
they were alleged to have been at the 
lime acs of violence were supposedly 
a ued. One plaintiff changed his 
testimony, admitted on the witness stand 
that he had been lying throughout and 
stated that he had been prompted to do 
so by prison authorities. Another plain- 
tiff disappeared two days after being 
paroled by the Department of Cor- 
rections, and we were able to bring 
witnesses to testify that this plaintiff had 
indicated he was merely using the prison 
olficials, by filing this lawsuit, to win a 
parole for himself. Finally, on the last 
day of the trial, Dr. George Beto, direc- 
tor of the Texas Department of Correc 
tions, admitted on the witness stand that 
he was not particularly happy about the 
idea of prison administrative policies 
being brought to light in court. АШ 
these developments tended to demon- 
strate that this suit was simply an effort 
to silence the one voice that has been 
repeatedly raised in this state aj 
prison policies of solitary confinement, 
denial of privileges, brutality and effec- 
tive nullification of the Bill of Rights 
for prison inmates. 

On behalf of all the attorneys who 
worked on this case, I express my 
appreciation for the sizable amount the 
Playboy Foundation contributed. 

W. W. Kilg 
Attorney at L; 
Houston, "Texas 


lin 


MINISTER FREED 

In April, The Playboy Forum published 
a fetter from Weston D. Bailey of the 
American Brotherhood Alliance describ- 
ing my long and truly unbelievable fight 
to prove myself innocent of a morals 
charge brought against me by the state 
of Washington. I have now, alter seven 
painful years of court action and over 
two years in prison, won my case, as the 
Superior Court of King County has dis- 
missed the charges against me. Without 


the help of the members of the American 
Brotherhood Alliance and the attention 
of media such as rLavnoy, I could not 
have obtained justice. You have my deep 
admiration and my gratitude. 
The Rev. Keith Milton Rhinehart 
Seattle, Washington 


DISGUSTING ABNORMALITY 

Maybe you'd like to sce how a real 
publisher runs a newspaper. We're 
proud of our Bill Locb. publisher of the 
Manchester New Hampshire 
Leader, He doesn't print any letters hom 
New 


Union 


queers, just from the g 
Hampshire. As the p 


od people « 


per has state 


Publisher Wiliam Loch am 
nounced today that the newspaper 
has adopted а policy that from 
now on it will print no тоге let- 
ters by homosexuals in defense of 
homosexuality. “Homosexuality,” 
publisher said, "isa disgusti 


mality, and. histor s that the 
widespread practice of this aberra- 
tion has led to the downfall of a 


number of nations.” 


(Name withheld by request) 
Manchester, New Hampshire 

Loeb has become something of a na- 
tional curiosity. By virtue of the circum- 
stance that New Hampshire's balloting 
is first in the series of quadrennial Presi- 


dential primaries, his excessive, right- 
wing thrusts at candidates have been 


treated as newsworthy rather than non- 
sensical. In 1960, he announced that 
John F. Kennedy was a 
sympathizer. This year, he stuck at 
Senator Edmund Muskie by reprinting an 


Communist 


attack on his wife and at Senator George 
MeCovern by publicizing a John Birch 
Society smear of his war record. 


PSYCHIATRIC DISCRIMINATION 
I applied for a job with a large com- 
pany and spent thee hours taking its 
employment tests. І passed and was told 
10 take a. physical exam and to report for 
work two days later. Prior to the physical, 
1 filled out a standard questionnaire and 
included the facts that E had spent а year 
in psychoanalysis and am currently in- 
volved in group therapy. Later that day, 
1 was notified that I had failed the physi 
cal, but no one would tell me why. Alter 
repeated phone calls, I was told that 
company policy was against hiring any- 
one who had been in psychotherapy. I 
have since been told by a psychiatrist that 
it's often better to “forget” to mention 
any involvement with psychiatric teat- 
ment when applying for work. 
(Name and address 
withheld by request) 


THE KENT STATE KILLINGS 

I read with interest the responses in the 
July Playboy Forum to the Іецег about 
the Kent State killings from R. J. А. Fox, 


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Б 249 
NAME 

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ADDRESS. 
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PLAYBOY 


which you published in Apri 

A number of Government officials 
have condemned the shootings; even 
John Mitchell, who then was Attorney 
G declared that the gunfire and 
the deaths were “unnecessary, umwar- 
nted and inexcusable.” Fox, apparent- 
ly unaware of this, makes the ridiculous 
statement that the students would not 
have gotten away with demonstrating in 
China. In other words, procedures de- 
veloped under the U.S. Constitution are 
inferior to the Chinese Communist way 
of handling things. 

Perhaps the most frightening state- 
ment in the Fox letter is his rejection, 
with the simpleminded epithet “bull- 


port on the Kent State incident р 
to "but one explanation for the shoot- 
acy on the part of several 
sergeants, to shoot at 
specific students” (The Playboy Forum, 
December 1971). What is frightening 
about this is that, in the very next 
breath, Fox expresses the wish that he 
could have been among the Guardsmen 
to do just that. The logic in this escapes 
mc, but the hatred is all too evident. 

On the question of the possible con- 
spiracy and the Government's refusal to 
risk a Federal grand-jw 
into that question, it is s 
that James A. Michenei 
State: 
pressed his agreement with this explana- 
tion. of the shootings in a letter written 
to the Reverend John Adams. Adams is 
the director of the United Methodist 
agency that submitted my report on the 
Kent State killings to Mitchell a year 
In his letter, Michener stated that 
in assuming that 
the term conspiracy could mean a dec 
to do a wrong reached within a few 
ments, then our “case is irrefutable.” 

Peter Davies 
Staten Island, New York 


author of Kent 
What Happened and Why, ex- 


YOUTH LOBBY 

Alter a period of relative calm, mem- 
bers of the younger generation have 
been provoked by the escalation of 
and sea bombardments in Vietnam into 


taking drastic steps to impress their anti- 
war views on their elders. Once again, 
we've seen riots, sit-ins, demonstrations 


and young people injured and jailed. 
Unfortunately, all this hasn't changed 
anything. One important. development 
could effect changes, though: the enfran- 
chisement of 18-to-21-year-olds. This year, 
11,000,000 people im that age group will 
be cligible to vote. 

However, even if young people do in- 
fluence elections, those elected will be be- 
sieged by the same old special-interest 
groups and their lobbies and the shadow 
government that controls and writes 
many of our laws. We have formed the 
Young People’s Lobby of America to 


give youth a chance to make changes in 
the Jaws within the framework of the 
Constitution. 

At this writing, the Y. P. L. A. is still 
embryonic. We are chartered as a non- 
profit corporation. but we 
hope to have lobb; i 
and in all state capitals, in time. We 
have small chapters going at a few 
colleges and versities. We're seeking 
support from college students, young Serv- 
icemen and young workers. 

Jim Stephanis 
Joe Whitcomb 
Young People's Lobby of ¢ 
Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, Florida 


BEYOND THE FRYING PAN 

In the June Dear Playboy, 
Smith writes that space research has 
terly no relevance to the plight of n 
kind on this earth. As far as Т can tell, 
the only usable spin-off from our entire 
aerospace effort has been the Teflon 
ying pan.” I have seen similar opin- 
i pressed many times by people who 
obviously didn't take the trouble to study 
before they popped off. As а 


Allan 
ut- 


Teflon, which 038. But 
the space program has contributed to 
developments ating 
and temperature-resisting products, con- 
cenuated energy foods, eyeblinking con- 
trol. switches (now used by paraplegic), 
improved medical sanituy procedures, 
equipment for monitoring people's vital 
processes, sling supports for limbs, agri- 
cultural information gathering. мелі 
prediction, and much more. These things 
should be considered relevant to the 
plight of mankind by anyone able to see 
beyond the end of his nose without the 
aid of the Mt. Palomar telescope. 
Stephen T. Tokar 
Piusburgh, Pennsylvania 


as invented in 


MONEY FOR OUTER SPACE 
With all the billions we spend putting 
men on the moon, why doesn’t the Gov- 
ernment cut loose with some heavy 
bread for cancer research? They could 
lick the disease in Jess than a year. Why 
is it necessary for celebrities to beg 
for nickels and dimes on telethons to 
taise thousands, when this kind of money 
is petty cash in Government budgets? 
Stan Gordon 
New York, New York 
The Cancer Act of 1971 authorizes the 
spending of L6 billion dollars a year 
for three years on research. Your 
plaint about misplaced notional priori- 
lies is justified but not, however, your 
singling out of space projects. Putting a 
man on the moon has been but one re- 
sult of the program, albeit a result that 
happens to be nothing less than a land- 
mark in the history of life on this planet. 
Other contributions include important 
developments in medical knowledge 


com- 


and techniques, some of which are rele- 
vant to cancer research. It would make 
more sense to complain about enormous 
military expenditures; the estimated Fed- 
eral budget for 1973 shows the cost of 
Space voyaging as relatively modest com- 
pared with other programs—it amounts 
to a little more than three billion dollars, 
while national defense (including the 
Vietnam war) is allotted more than 7.8 
billion dollars. 


EXPENSIVE MEDICINE 
The demigods of the Democratic 
Party have proposed a compulsory medi 
calinsuranee plan that will cover all 
Americans from birth If the 
American Medical Association doesn't put 
up a strong fight against it, I shall be 
sorely disappointed. for such a plan 
would be a direct infringement on the 
lienable rights of the men and women 
profession. Putting docto 
the state's 
isfy our public serv- 


to death. 


improve. 
ay well deteriorate, the standards 
of excellence that so far been pro- 
vided by the medical profession. 

The bleeding hearts of both parties 
are giving away a lot of gifts nowadays. 
that are not theirs to give. In the end, 
we all get robbed, 


а Rosa, California 

The A.M. А. probably won't disap- 
point you. But while it is pulling up “a 
strong fight,” people are still getting 
sick, medical costs are rising twice as fast 
as the cast of living, yel the “standards 
of excellence” you mention are not be- 
ing met. The United States lags behind 
13 other countries in infant mortality 
and behind 21 in life expectancy, and 
there are 20,000,000 Americans for whom 
medical care can be described as inade- 
quate at best, nonexistent at worst. 
People are beginning to demand that 
something be done and something will 
be; if the medical profession wants to 
protect its “inalienable rights” (whatever 
they may be) from encroachment by 
politicians and Jor other “outsiders,” then 
it had betier come up on its own with a 
positive plan to make decent medical care 
accessible to everybody and to 
the crushing burden of medical costs. 


teduce 


WOMEN IN MEDICINE 
Dr. John W. 
nt because 


Docktor was highly iu 
“women doctors don't 
ant or have. planned 
` (The Playboy Forum, func). 
The three women ph: s I know 
who became pregnant during my years 
in school all were past their training 
programs, all took their normal two- 
week vacations to have the babies and 
then all came back to work. Five or 
of the male interns during the 


me 


period had illnesses that caused hardship 
and an increased work load for their 
fellow intems (including two healthy 
women). 

Holier-than-thou male physicians ig- 
nore the recent American Medical Asso- 
ion study that indicates the 
ion rate among female physi 
not appreciably greater than it is among 
male physicians, when total time in p 
tice is considered. As for me, I have no 
intention of having my tubes ligated if I 
can't have children dining an allotted 
two years—unless Dr. Docktor will have 
a vasectomy. 


“ 
аш 


Tallmadge, Оһо 


John W. Docktor has his nerve 
women M. D.s how to run their 
lives. I have three children, all of whom 
I had on my own time, I haven't dropped 
out or fallen down on my responsibilities, 
nor did I have all the children in an 
allotted two years as Docktor suggests. 
1 spread them three years apart, so I 
could have more time with each one 
during carliest childhood. As for increas- 
ing other people's work loads, many times 
I've covered for male М.Ю who needed 
time off for everything from hepat 

га 

A trained physician should be mature 
and sophisticated enough to know that 
generalizations about either sex are 
Bound to be nonsense. 


Kansas 


ABORTION ON THE BALLOT 

The people of Michigan will hav 
opportunity to vote for а nomestricive 
abortion bill on the November ballot 
A petition drive obtained more than 
enough signatures to qualify the measure 
for legislative action or popular referen- 
dum. The legislature failed to act and it's 
now up to the voters. 

Since the results of this vote will affect 
people in every state, directly or indi- 
rectly, we're asking for support. Succes- 
ful passage of this referendum depends 
on volunteer workers to conduct polls, 
ibute information and staff speakers’ 
s. We'd especially like volunteers 
to come to Michigan for a weekend, а 
week, a month or the duration and 
join the grou 

Jack M. Stack, M. D., Chairman 

Michigan Coordinating Committee 
for Abortion Law Reform 

406 East Michigan Avenue 

Lansing, Michigan 48933 


IMPOSING MORALITY 

Although James Breig docs mot be- 
lieve that the antiabortion crusade in 
this country is backed almost solely by 
the Catholic Church (The Playboy Fo- 
rum, July), he still feels the Church docs 
have a right to impose its moral views 


— 


EVER SINCE THEY PUT the new stoplight at the 


head of town, there are two good reasons to stop 


here in Lynchburg, Tennessee. 


On your way in we suggest a pause at Jack Daniel 
Distillery. Here, a gentleman will show you around 
and talk pridefully about out whiskey. And probably he'll 


talk proudest about charcoal 


mellowing, the extra step that 


smooths out Jack Daniel's. 
On your way out we 
Suggest a stop at our town’s 
new redlight. If you knew 


Sheriff Martin as we do, you'd 


know thís was an equally 
worthwhile recommendation. 


TENNESSEE WHISKEY + 90 PROOF 


CHARCOAL 
MELLOWED 


© 1972, Jack Daniel Distillery, Lem Hollow, Prop, tec 


DISTILLEO AND BOTTLEO EY JACK DANIEL DISTILLERY « LYNCHBURG (POP. 361), TENNESSEE 


63 


PLAYBOY 


64 


on nonmembers. He suggests that we 
should all submit to the Church's judg: 
ment on abortion just as we would in 
other cases: “As a Gatholic, 1 oppose 
war, racism, the prison system and mur- 
der. May I not ‘impose’ these ‘preju- 
dices’ on everyone else? 

The answer, of course, is that neither 
he nor anyone else may impose their 
views “as a Catholic.” For one thing, the 
Catholic Church does not officially con- 
demn either war or the prison system. 
And while it may condemn racism, 
many of its members embrace it and the 
Church not thrown vast resources 

mo combating it. Breig's opposition to 
murder is hardly a peculiarly Catholic 
doctrine but, unlike the Church's stand 
on abortion, is universal. Thus, while 
we non-Catholics may indced share some 
of Breig's “prejudices.” it's not because 
we've allowed the Church to impose 
them. I see no reason why we should do 
so in the case of i 


assachusetts 


RELIGIOUS ISSUE REJOINED 

James Bieig has failed to refute my 
contention that the only group actively 
nd consistently fighting to retain restric- 
tive abortion laws is the Catholic Church 
(The Playboy Forum, March). He noted 
that both Reformed and Orthodox. Jew- 
ish groups have made statements con- 
demning abortion, stated thar Ame 
Jnited for Life is a nonsectar organi- 
n and asserted that over 800 doctors 
have signed a petition opposing New 
York's liberalized Jaw. 

But, as far as I'm concerned, Breig has 
ot pointed out a single nomeligious sci 
с, educational, medical, social or 
legal org 
that abortion is the killing of a human 
with the right to life. Eight hun- 
dred doctors do not constitute an ongoing 
ation and, for all I know, they 
may all be Catholics. Americans United. 
for Lile's fund-raising literature states 
that the organization founded by 
the Society for the Christian Common- 
wealth, a group of rightwing religious 
fanatics whose aim is to “make Amer- 
ica Chistian.” Their brochure also pleads 
for interdenominational support, indicat- 
ng that the organization is just a way 
for the Church to gain the respectability 
of nonsect The rabt: al 
and Oi support for the ant 
abortion position simply validates my 
claim that the abortion controversy is 
basically a religi 

Nor does the position of these other 
religious groups disprove my contention 
about the dominance of the Catholic 
Church on the issue. For, unlike the 
Catholic hierarchy, the others have not 
chosen to devote countless sermons to 
abortion, nor have they published innu 
merable leaflets and pamphlets on the 


та 


on that upholds the view 


hodo: 


subject. Unlike the Catholic Church, 
other religious groups have not poured 
hundreds of thousands of dollars into 
the fight, nor have they become involved 
in political contests between pro- and 
antiabortion candidates or threatened 
legislators in their congregations with 
excommunication for a positive vote on 


the issue. When Pr хоп wrote 
an anti-abortion lette the fight 
to retain New York's elective abortion 
law, he did not address it to leaders of 


other churches but to Сагай 
who has led the attempt to overtui 
Jaw from the day it was passed. 

T believe that these facts have nothing 
to do with individuals or with bigotry, 
My fight is not against religion but 


against an institution that has used its 
enormous wealth and power to impose a 


particular religious dogma on the rest of 
us. Were the Church to reverse its stand 

nst abortion today, this medical pro 
cedure would become legally ble 


to women everywhere in short order. 
That is my contention, and Breig has 
said nothing to prove T am wi 
Helen Smith, Chairman 
Illinois Citizens for the 
Medical Control of Abortion 
Chicago, Illinois 


NO ABORTION ABOUT-FACE 

riaypoy hus made a long and pres 
igious carcer of fighting for the rights 
of the unfortunate, the downtrodden and 
the helpless. Yet I find that you have 
done an aboutface where abortion is 
concerned, turning your guns on the 
most helpless of those in our society: the 
unborn. How, in good faith, сап 
PLayuoy denounce racism, hunger, kill- 
ing and war on one page while condon- 
ng and even promoting the killing of 
America's unborn on the next? 

It would seem as though you have 
allowed yourself to be used hypocriti- 
ally. 1 ask you to reconsider your stand 
nd to once again take up the pen 

inst those who would wage war on 
the helpless. 


"Fhomas G. Hall, Jr. 
Fernandina Beach, Florida 
Like most critics on this issue, you 
asume that a fetus has the same status 
and rights as a fully developed human 
being. This is an assumption that we do 
not share. We denounce racism, hunger, 
killing and war because they threaten 
freedom and destroy human lije; we op- 
pose moralistic and restrictive abortion 
laws for the same reasons. 


PLAYBOY CONTRADICTIONS 

1 have been reading PLAYBOY for some 
time now and J find certain contradic- 
tions in it. For instance, The Playboy 
Forum supports the more rational wing 
of the women's liberation movement, 
but the rest of the magazine is adorned 
with pictures selling women by the 


square yard of dehumanized flesh. You 
publish articles condemning military 
and economic imperialism, but you also 
publish articles telling how to get to the 
top and make money in business, which 
means practicing the art of economic 
exploitation. Finally, your magazine ap- 
pears to deplore the pollution and de- 
struction of the environment, but you 
also advocate a life that only а select 
few can hope to live, a life that is a slap 
n the face of the poor, a life that 
produces far higher levels of. pollution. 
and uses a larger share of the world's 
resources than any previous culture in 
history. How can you lit such dispa- 
rate pieces into an internally consistent 
philosophy? 


Leif Gunnar Gran 
Bergen, Norway 
Only if one is still in the grip of 
pwitanism can he hold that there is 
anything demeaning about being photo- 
graphed in the nude or evoking sexual 
feelings in the beholder. We see no 
contradiction in acknowledging that 
members of one sex ате crotically appeal- 
ing to the opposite sex and in urging 
that both sexes enjoy freedom and 
equality. As jor your second point, it's 
unrealistic to argue that there are only 
two possible positions on capitalism, one 
that approves everything capitalists do 
and one that approves nothing they do. 
We don’t think intelligent businessmen 
or sophisticated colleciivists would be 
found in either camp. Finally, we feature 
many products that PLAYEOY's. readers 
find interesting and. attractive, but that 
doen't imply advocacy of elitist luxury 
living or wasteful exhaustion of the 
earth's resources. Most informed people 
know there is a need for economic and 
technological change. What we do advo- 
cale ix the unremitting application o 
human intelligence to such problems as 
the optimal distribution of goods, the 
reduction of waste and the stabilizing 
oj population. We're optimistic enough 
to think that the good life of the fu- 
ture will far outshine that of the pres- 
ent both in quality and in universal 
availability. 


TOO MANY FOLKS 
Greg Monk is worried about the loss 
of indi might result from 
widespread conformity to the ideal of a 
twochild family (The Playboy Forum, 
May). ‘The dehumanization of life and 
the destruction of individuality entailed 
in perpetual population growth are much 
more disastrous probabilities. 
M 

Da 


ti Worth 
yton, Ohio 


COMMON SENSE WINS ONE 

Every so often one sees encouraging 
signs that common sense may yet play a 
ficant role in the sexual revolution 
An example is provided in the following 


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PLAYBOY 


excerpts from 2 judgment handed down 
by provincial judge W. John Wheclton 
upon dismissing a charge against a danc- 
er of “unlawfully taking part in an in- 
decent performance by dancing in the 
nude" at a strip joint in Windsor, On- 
tario. He said: 


Whatever the artistic merit or 
osc of her dance, the patrons 
s were paying the 
to scc her take oll her 
clothes, and her basic purpose and 
that of the producer wits to see that 
they got what they paid for. 

While the average Canadian may 
mot choose to attend burlesque 
shows featuring nude dancing, there 
is some evidence before me that he 
or she would be unwilling to inte 
fere with the rights of other adult 
Canadians who are prepared to pay 
the price of admission to attend 
such shows. The prevalence of nudity 
on the stage and even on the screen 
indicates its tolerance by the Canadi- 
an community, provided the exhibi- 
tion is limited to adults. 


In short, people need mot approve 
something in order to tolerate it, and 
what members of the adult public want to 
pay to see behind closed doors is none of 
the law's business. 


J- D. Kenney 
Windsor, Ontario 


DON'T KNOCK KNOCKERS 

Last spring, a hotel in our small city 
1 
ing business. The city is fairly conser 
tive and there was a lot of talk at first, 
but nobody seemed overly disturbed and 


red topless dancers to boost a dedin- 


the dancers continued packing the place 
nightly, Now, however, this entertain- 
ment is being fought 1 inisters 
representing а small of the 
townspeople. 

I am a college sophomore; conse 


quently, I'm not old enough to include 
this type of entertainment in my sched- 
ule; but it doesn't bother me at all if 
others want to see topless dancing. 1 
don't understand why the small group 
of people who oppose the dancing don't 
simply ignore it. How can a pair of bare 
knockers bother someone who has no 
intention of viewing them anyway? 

Doug Bitar 

Hoquiam, Washington 


OBSCENITY OF THE BODY 

In the June Playboy Forum, S. К. 
Rossiter deplored the fact that the nude 
human body outrages some people. A few 
years ago, 1 came up with a reply to those 
who object to the sight of the human. 
body (which was exhibited as a "think- 
work” in the Western Dakota Junk Com- 
pany show of 1969, here in Billings). 
Anyone who considers the human body 


to be in any way obscene has two 
choices, since he or she is housed in a 
human body: (1) suicide; (2) a perma 
nent concrete overcoat 

Peter (“Whitson”) Warren 

Assistant Professor of Art 
astern Montana College 
Billings, Montana 


FIRST ORGASM 

It is a winter moming; sunlight is 
streaming through the windows of our 
two-story bungalow. My husband is at 
work, my two-year-old baby is taking his 
morning nap and my other children are 
in school. No one will dist 
up to the bathroom, undress 
into the tub. 

My body has been i 
to sex-phobie religious thinking i 
on me in childhood. The pious celibates 
who taught me in school trained me to 
fear my feelings, to me 
myself. Now, following the 
book I've just read, I am 
rediscover my bod 
usually use to wa 
stream of warm water on my clitor 

Instantly I begin to feel a pleasu 
sensation. 1 try to relax, but my heart 
pounding wildly. Only in dreams have 1 
ever felt so erotic. Often I have awak- 
ened from a sexual dream with dı 
feeling, but when 1 became fully оце 
scious, my moralistic intellect took over 
and shut off the [ecling. instantly. Now 
waves of pleasure are flooding my entire 
body, my breathing is deep and heavy, 
lide beads of sweat stand out on my 
forehead and my heart is pounding. 
Then comes the ultimate explosion of 
sensation. I gasp as my vagina moves 
and pulsas. 1 am having my first or- 
gasm, naked and alone in my tub. 

1 huddle afterward, shivering and 
weeping for a long time. So this is what 
І have been missing all these years! So 
this is what orgasm feels like! What 
tremendous pleasure! What relief of 
all tensions! Why, why, 1 ask myself, 
should any human being avoid this ex- 
perience for a whole lifetime? 

"There's more to this story. What fol- 
lowed was a time of determined selt- 
education. After I had the 
mystery and understood the response, 1 
spent the next year talking to people 
who were close to me and were willing 
to discuss the details of their private 
lives. I went for professional counseling 
to a gynecologist knowledgeable about 
sexual response. I continued to use the 
m spray and bougi 
which also helped me develop my 
sponsiveness. Fourteen months after that 
first orgasm, I was able to reach climax 
during intercourse with my truly under- 
standing and patient husband. It was а 
moment of great joy and fulfillment. 1 
felt securely feminine, erotic and loved. 
Our whole life together has improved 


discovered 


Loa vi 


tremendously, now that our sexual expe 
riences are pleasurable for both of us. 

I had much shame, guilt, fear and 
negative conditioning to overcome, but 
it has been worth it. I hope other re 
pressed and frigid women will be moti 
vated by my story to achieve the same 
beautiful goal. 


(Name and address 
withheld by request) 


SEXUAL DOMINO THEORY 

Thank God for Charles H. Keating. 
Jr, founder of Citizens for Decent Liter 
ature, and his crusade against sex in the 
nema. When I read about his fund 
raising letter, which states thar in some 
American cities "there are theaters that 
show movies of men and women having 
sexual intercourse.” I was horrified. If 
purveyors of filth are allowed free тей 
in this country, soon ll be allowed 
in the hotels and motels of certain cities. 
nd before long it will creep into apart 
ments and homes Eventually, it will 
be our friends and relatives, not just 
actors, who are having sexual intercourse 

This nation cannot long endure such 
a rotting of its moral principles without 


to wa nemies. Keat- 
ing is absolutely righ; we must nip 
sexual intercourse in the bud—on the 
screens of our local theaters. 


William E. Bannister 
Atlanta, Georgia 


LOYAL OPPOSITION 

Not only is Charles Н. Keating, Jr., in- 
disci е about those to whom he 
sends his anti-pomography form letter 
Dut alo in his responses to return mail. I 
used the stamped. envelope provided in 
his mailing to send back a tersely worded 
rejection of his views and of his request 
for a donation. I received by return m: 
a 1972 Citizens for Decent Literature 
membership card along with another 
form letter acknowledging my loyal 
support. 


George B. Mason 
Santa Barbara, California 


HOW JIMMY GOT HOOKED 

Charles H. Keating, Jr. has some 
competition in the smut-fighting racket 
The Reverend Morton A. Hill also 
served on the Commission on Obscenity 
and Pornography and also filed а report 
dissenting from the majority view that 
pornography is harmless and censorship 
for adults is unnecessary. Hill is president 
of his own band of anti-pornography zeal- 
ois, who would like to tell you what not 
to read or look at. It is called Morality i 
Media, Incorporated, and last spring it 
sent out a Keatinglike mailing to parish 
priests, 

In his letter, Hill told his colleagues 
of the cloth that “pornography in the 
parish is something every priest faces 

(concluded on page 224) 


MCKESSON LIQUOR CO, N.Y., N.Y. 80 PROOF LIQUEUR. 


No daiquiri drinker 
could toast another with 
anicer wish. 

Because, among 
the enlightened, the 
Galliano daiquiri is con- 
sidered the ultimate in 
daiquiris. It seems that 
Galliano makes some- 


“May all your daiquiris be 
Galliano daiquiris.” 


thing extraordinary hap- 
pen to rum and lime juice, 
as it does to so many 
other familiar tastes. 
Next time you want to 
dazzle a gathering with 
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home bar, get a bottle of 
Galliano and mix this: 


3/4 от. Liquore Galliano 
3/4 от. light rum 
juice of 1/2 lime 
т teaspoon sugar 

Add one cup 
crushed ice and put a 
in blender for 30 to Y 
60 seconds. Toast 
generously. | 


LIQUORE GALLIANO" /_ 


D efESSONLIQUOROD 1972 


‘Ge to where he favoris is. 
Marlboro e 


Warn ning Tee on Gen 
Сідаге ESTEK MIDE 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: MEIR KAHANE 


а candid conversation with the militant leader of the jewish defense league 


Nearly every reader of a news maga- 
zine has heard of the Jewish Defense 
League and seem pictures of its tough- 
looking youths “patrolling” inner-city 
neighborhoods, training in karate, stand- 
ing armed guard before the doors of 
synagogues. Many observers within ond 
without the Jewish community see 
J.D.L. as an alarming phenomenon— 
prepared to use guns and even bombs to 
achieve its dubious ends, cager to in- 
crease both domestic and international 
tensions, intolerant of opposition, com- 
parable in its approach to the Minute- 
men and the Weathermen. 

The fact that it is a Jewish organiza- 
tion behaving this way has produced а 
good deal of astonishment, Althou 
Jewish life in this country is far from 
monolithic—there are Orthodox, Соп- 
servative, Reformed and even попртас- 
licing Jews, whose observances differ 
markedly from one another—certain 
reasonable generalizations can be made 
about American Jews, and by these cri- 
teria, the Jewish Defense League is an 
anomaly. For a century, this country’s 
Jews have been moving outward from 
ghetto and shul, away from orthodoxy to 
full participation in the nation’s life; 
J- D. L. denounces these "secularis!" tend- 
encies and hearkens back to the Ortho- 
dox tradition. Since the Thirties, Jews 
have been identified with New Deal 
liberalism; J.D.L. heaps scorn upon 
liberalism and liberals. Young Jews 


"If an American Nazi Party leader posed. 
a clear and present danger to American 
Jews, then not to assassinate such a per- 
son would be one of the most immoral 
courses I could imagine.” 


played a prominent role in the civil 
rights demonstrations of the Sixties; 
Je lawyers have made careers of 
defending the civil liberties of others; 
Jewish citizens are on contributor lisis 
for every underdog cause in the land; 
yet J. D. L. berates Jews for rushing to 
the defense of others and ignoring the 
sufferings of their own brothers and sis- 
ters. The major Jewish organizations are 
proud of their skill at resolving gricv- 
ances around the conference table; 
J.D.L. has taken vociferously to the 
streets. Jews have won а reputation for 
avoiding violence; young J. D.L. mem- 
bers seek confrontations. Their slogan: 
“Never Again!” 

Among J.D. L's more celebrated ac 
tivities have been the following: 

* Members of the National Renais- 
sance Party, carrying GAS THE JEWS! signs 
at a Fifth Avenue parade marking an 
anniversary of Israel’s independence, were 
roughed up by J. D. L. youths. 

Vhen black leader James Forman 
threatened to interrupt services at New 
York's fashionable Temple Emanu-El 
with his demand for Jewish reparations 
to black citizens, about 30 J. D. L. mem- 
bers, equipped with clubs and chains, 
stationed themselves at the entrance to 
the temple and promised to break For- 
man's head if he should appear. He 
didn't. 

= In response to the Soviet govern- 
ment's refusal lo permit emigration of 


“Why do muggers prey on Jewish neigh- 
borhoods and not on Italian. neighbor- 


hoods? Because the Italians have a 
reputation for being tough, Now we're 
getting that reputation.” 


Russian Jews to Israel, and its arrest of 
Jewish dissidents, J. D.L. bands trailed 
members of the Soviet mission to the 
UN, calling them dirty names; J.D. L. 
also invaded offices of the Soviet trad- 
ing company Amtorg. 

= Last March, some J. D.L. members 
crashed a diplomatic receplion in Wash- 
ington and poured blood on the head of 
a Soviet official. 

+ In May, a dozen J. D. L. members 
staged a sit-in at the Austrian Embassy 
to protest the acquittal in Austria of a 
former SS concentration-camp guard. 
They hung a Nazi fiag outside a window 
and traded blows with embassy officials. 

Exploits widely attributed to J.D. Lu, 
although either denied or shrug 
with a grin by ils spokesmen, 
cluded: 

* Open bottles of ammonia rolled 
down the aisles of Carncgie Hall, stop- 
ping а performance of the Siberian Danc- 
ers and Singers of Omsk. 

* A bomb exploded in the doorway of 
the New York office of Aeroflot, the Soviet 
airline, and Intourist, the Soviet tourist. 
agency, leading to the cancellation of a 
visit to this country by the Bolshoi Ballet. 

+ A bomb set off outside the Soviet 
cultural building in Washington. 

* Four shots fired through a window 
of the Soviet mission to the United 
Nations. 

+ A bomb exploded in the Lebanese 
Consulate in Hollywood after the random 


“We have a tremendous thing about love 
in this country. Everybody has to love 
everybody. Well, I believe there is a cer- 
tain importance to hate. One has to hate 
injustice. You've got to burn it ou 


69 


PLAYBOY 


70 


shooting at Tel Avivs Lod airport in 
May by Japanese gunmen allegedly 
trained in Lebanon. 

* A fme bomb exploded, killing a 
young Jewish woman, in the New York 
offices of impresario Sol Hurok, prime 
importer of Soviet talent. 

Four J.D.L. members were arrested 
in connection with the Hurok bombing 
and one at another booking agency the 
same day. Four others had been arrested 
a few weeks earlier, charged with con- 
spiring to blow up the Long Island 
home occupied by the Soviet mission to 
the UN, 

For ils deeds, both admitted and al- 
leged, J.D.L. has been denounced by 
every major Jewish organization in the 
country. as well as by officials on all 
levels of government. Yet it has persist- 
ed, growing 10 a claimed membership of 
16,000—most of it, according to J. D. L. 
spokesmen, on the nation's campuses. 
This achievement is duc almost entirely 
to one man, an Orthodox rabbi: Meir 
Kahane (pronounced Kahah-nce). 

Born in Brooklyn 40 years ago, Ка- 
hane attended. Jewish religious schools 
—Yeshwas—but combined his spivilual 
orthodoxy with a passion for the New 
York Yankees that was most unorthodox 
in the Brooklyn of the legendary Dodg- 
ers. He won a В. А. and a law degree at 
night school (and laler an М. A. in inter- 
national law), then served as a rabbi in 
Queens for a couple of years but found 
that role uncongenial, Today he doesn’t 
claim to speak officially for any branch 
of American Judaism; he is, however, the 
voice of ]. D. L. To learn more about this 
controversial organization and its reputed- 
ly authoritarian leader, PLAYBOY sent 
interviewer Walter Goodman to talk to 
Kahane. Goodman reports: 

“Meir Kahane is a slight, dark man of 
quiet demeanor. Al some time in his 
youth, he apparently forced himself to 
master a ийет; his tongue still falters 
occasionally, but the flow of ideas into 
words is remarkably fluent. His manner 
in private conversation is subdued, com- 
pared with his fiery manner on the 
platform, but now and then а twitch of 
his eyelid betrays the nervous energy 
within. А low-keyed humor continually 
finds ils way into his conversation. 
While searching for a parking space on 
a crowded Brooklyn street, he remarked, 
‘Now, we'll see whether God is good 
today, or dificult? After а moment, he 
added: ‘He's always good and always 
difficult? 

“Kahane plans, in time, to settle in 
Isracl—where J. D. L. now maintains an 
international office—and he contends 
that it would be prudent if all American 
Jews made similar plans. Last year he 
moved his family—wife and four chil- 


dren—thete, where his father and 
grandfather were rabbis in the days be- 
fore the existence of the Jewish state. 
Kahane now commutes monthly between 
America and Israel and maintains so 
frenelic a schedule of speaking engage- 
ments, which are а major source of 
J. D. L. funds, that 1 had to fly with him 
from New York lo Chicago just to get 
him to sit still for a couple of hours. It 
was a luncheon flight and the airline 
presented the rabbi on boarding with 
his specially ordered, Saran-wrapped ko- 
sher meal. 

"When we next met, it was in a 
quite different setting, J. D. L. hradquar- 
ters in the Borough Park section of 
Brookiyn—a building that is a cross 
a deseried warchouse and a 
medicval dungeon. Prison, in fact, is 
something Kahane has often faced. He 
was first arrested al the age of 15, in 
1947, for stoning the car of Brilish For- 
cign Minister Ernest Bevin. Since form- 
ing J. D. L. in the late Sixties, he's been 
held by the police several times. In 
1971, he was convicted for his part in a 
bomb-making plot, and last May he was 
given three years on probation Jor incit- 
ing a riot in December 1970 outside the 
Soviel mission to the UN. Throughout 
all, һе has behaved with the air of a 
himself perfectly 
justified in his actions. 1 began by ask- 
ing him to explain why. 


between 


man who believes 


PLAYBOY: How do you justify J- D. L.'s 
advocacy of violence as a tactic? 
aciple, if there 
then eve 
little bit of it is bad. But if a crisis a 
iu which nothing can work but 
deal of violence, then not to use it is a 
tragedy. Was it more merciful not to go 
to war with the Nazis in 19357 Was it 
more moral, more ethical, more decent, 
more humane? I think it would have 
been a lot more humane for a lot of 
nocent people if we had gone to war 
then. 
PLAYBOY: Some Jewish leaders have 
charged. that your readiness to resort to 
violence contradicts the principles of 
Judaism. 
KAHANE: When some socalled leader gets 
up and emotes about what is Jewish and 
what is not Jewish, it pains me, because 
J can't stand ignorance. If he owned an 
insurance business, I wouldn't have the 
chutzpah to argue wi 
ance. So let him not tell 


а 


h him about insur- 


с, a rabbi, 


what is Jewish. Gandhi, a pacifist, was 
not а Jew. Moses was a Jew—and he 
smote the Egyptians. 

PLAYBOY: Just how far are you willing to 


go in the use of violence? 

s far as necessary. Jf an Ameri- 
i Party leader posed a clear and 
langer to American Jews, then 
not to assassinate such a person would be 


one of the most immoral courses I could 
imagine. I only wish that someone had 
assassinated Adolf Hitler іп 1923. 
PLAYBOY: How can you take upon your- 
self the responsibility of deciding wheth- 
er or not to take someone's life? 
KAHANE: You have an obligation to try 
to do things in а nice way. You have to 
give your antagonist an opportu 
change. But once you've given li 
chance and it doesn't work, then I think 
you have an obligation—not just a 
right, an obligation—to move on to 
something that is not nice. 
PLAYBOY: But anybody can use that kind 
of reasoning to justify whatever he 
thinks is right. 
KAHANE: Of course. 
PLAYBOY Then the only difference be- 
tween you and, say, the American Nazi 
Party is that they're wrong and you're 
right? 
KAHANE: I can't put it better than that. 
PLAYBOY: Four members of J.D. L. were 
arrested last June for firebombing the 
offices of Sol Hurok in New York, killing 
a young girl. How 
KAHANE: That was insane. I was horrified. 
PLAYBOY: But what do you have to say 
about the fact thar circumstantial evi 
dence points to your organization's in 
volvement in the bombing? J. D. L. has 
been critical of Hurok for bringing So- 
viet performers to America, and someone 
did call the Associated Press and NBC 
after the explosion and use your J.D. L. 
п, “Never Again! 
KAHANE: Those arrested are nice Jew 


h 


boys: they're absolutely innocent. H's 
true that we have disrupted Hurok's 
put ther endows dif 


between and 
someone who is not part of the < 
apparatus in this country. Now, Hurok 
it to make money, and I think 
k he's helping the 
in a cultural exchange 
program the basic purpose of which 
to anesthetize the American people. No 
one сап walk out of a Soviet concert 
feeling quite as bad toward Russia as he 
might have before. So I think Hurok's 
program should be stopped. But not 
that way. The punishment must fit the 
crime. There is cultural genocide going 
in the Soviet Union—but we're not 
dealing with physical genocide. So we 
disrupt cultura ies; we don't assas 


bombing 
»viet 


is in 


Soviet Union 


PLAYBOY: In the process of anti-Russi 
protests in this country, J. D. L. теті 
have broken American laws. How do 
you excuse that? 

KAHANE: We respect the right and the 
obligation of the American Government 
to prosecute us and send us to jail. No 
one gripes about that. 

PLAYBOY: Áre you at all concerned that 


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PLAYBOY 


72 


J-D.L’s harassment of the Russians may 
obstruct Soviet-American relations and 
hurt the cause of peace? 

KAHANE: Afier we took over the New 
York offices of Amtorg, the Soviet trading 
company. and made the Russians walk 
down 20 flights of stairs, our ambassador 
to the UN, Charles Yost, called me 
The first thing he said to me was, “ 
you a good citizen?” I sai Yes," Then 
he asked me if 1 didn't realize that 
].D.L. was interfering with delicate 
relations between the U.S. and the 
U.S.S.R. When he said that, I knew 
we were making our point. I want to 
see this world living in peace, and I want 
to see the Soviets and the Americans sit 
down and get the Gold War figured out. 
But І don't want peace bought at the 
expense of people. Once upon a time, 
that was called Munich. 

PLAYBOY: So your strategy is to make the 
Soviets uncomfortable and also to try to 
put pressure on our own Government, 
KAHANE: Exactly. And мете succeeding. 
We've gotten thousands of Jews out of 
the Soviet Union. But don't take my 
word for it; talk to the Jews in the 
U.S.S.R. or to those who have gone 
to Israel. In the Soviet Union, the only 
American Jewish organization the people 
have heard of is J.D.L. The Sovicts 
made a 20-minute TV film about J.D. L. 
They put up big pictures of Golda Мей, 
Moshe Dayan and Meir Kahane—enemies 
of the state. Fine, 

PLAYEOY: What would you consider 
J.D. L's other major successes in the 
lour years of its existence? 

KAHANE: First, it has created a sense of 
Jewish identity, especially on campuses. 
Second, it’s created а different image of 
Jews among gentiles. Why do muggers 
prey on Jewish neighborhoods and not 
on halian neighborhoods? Because the 
ams have a reputation for being 
. Now we're getting that reputa- 
i—rough-and-tough hoodlu, 
PLAYEOY: That's good? 
KAHANE: Yes. If a minority group has an 
image of weakness and is at the same 
time allluent, it becomes an ideal scape- 
goat when times get hard, as they arc 
today for many people. That's really 
why I started J. D. L. 

PLAYBOY: How that come about? 
KAHANE: Well, in 1967, I became 
editor of The Jewish Press, the 
Anglo-Jewish paper in the country— 
160,000 readers—for which I'd 
been writing a weekly column for sever- 
al years. In my job as editor, I started 
getting phone calls and letters telling 
about incidents that seemed terrible 
to me, but which I never read about. in 
the general press. 

PLAYBOY: Such as? 

KAHANE: There were Jewish teachers be- 
ing attacked by racists in their school 


ns. 


the 
gest 


over 


me 


"There was the whole problem of vio- 
lence in Jewish neighborhoods. There 
was the tremendous growth of radical- 
left alienation among young Jews. So I 


would contact the major Jewish groups 
and say, “Hey, have you heard about 
this?” and they'd say, “Yes, we've 


heard.” And I'd say, “What are you 
going to do about it?” And they'd say, 
“Well, we've always found that it's bet- 
ter not to do too much; it makes things 
worse; these things have a tendency to 
die ou 1 listened to them, but it 
became obvious to me that doing noth- 
ing would simply guarantee that the 
situation would get worse. So I put an 
ad in The Jewish Press in which I de- 
scribed the problems and said that it 
was time for an active Jewish group to 
call a meeting. 

PLAYEOY: What was the response? 
KAHANE: I astounded. All of a sud- 
den, I found out just how many Jews 
there were who thought they must be 
crazy, because they'd been brought up to 
believe that militant thinking was un- 
Jewish. The idea of J. D. L. took off im- 
it had come 


mediately. 1f five years 
earlier, it might have fizzled, but in 
1968, its time had come. 

PLAYBOY: Why 1968? 

KAHANE: Because the Arab-Israeli war 
the year before had cut the albatross 


from the neck of the poor, long-suffering 
antiSemite. When the gates of the con- 
centration camps were opened. there 
was this terrible guilt feeling all over the 
world. To be an anti-Semite in the years 
immediately following World War Two 
was 100 much for the average person. 
The Christian overcompensated, just as 
today the Jew overcompen: the 
black man. Well, that's over and done 
with. Suddenly, the erstwhile victims 
have become bloody Jews, aggressors 
who did ишо others what had been 
done unto them for so long. At least 
that’s what the antiSemite can now 
believe. 

PLAYBOY: You don't put much store 
surveys and polls indicating that ami 
Semitism in this country has been steadily 
declining. 

KAHANE: When an anti-Semite's belly is 
filled, he doesn't stop being an anti- 
Semite. He's just quiet about it, because 
it's not relevant. But America's economic 
boon 
had no competitors, but today tough 
competition U.S, goods ош of 
world ‚ out of the do- 
mestic market. Things won't get better, 
they'll get worse, and that will lead to 
ion and a search for that scape- 
goat ] was talking about—the Jew. 
PLAYBOY: Why the Jew? Why not the 
black man? 

KAHANE: First of all, Jews are a small 
minority and, as I said, a very wealthy 


tes for 


end. 


one. That's a dangerous combination; it 
s it easy for both black and white 
rs to turn on them. It's nor a 
coincidence that George Lincoln Rock- 
well was the only white man ever invit- 
ed to sit on the dais at a Black Muslim 
meeting. It’s not a coincidence that the 
American Nazi Party, їп its writings 
directed at blacks, blamed the Jews for 
poverty, drugs, liquor, slums and every- 
thing else that's oppressing blacks, And 
the WASP establishment isn't actly 
dismayed that the anger of minority 
groups is being diverted from the stock 
exchange to Sammy's candy store. On 
the one hand, the black man sces the 
з the weakest link in the white 
on the other, the white fascist 
types blame the Jew for what they see as 
the black problem, Over and over in 
their literature, they emphasize the evi- 
dent fact that it was Jews who played 
the leading role in the battle for civil 
rights—a battle that I feel should bring 
honor to the Jewish people. There isn't 
a thing we Jews have done for blacks 
that I say should not have been done. 1 
say only that we should have done as 
much for ourselves. 
PLAYBOY: One critici: 

it doesn't seem to care much 
people's civil rights. When you were per- 
mitted to speak to the Zionist Organiza- 
tion of America las year despite a 
number of protests, for instance, you 
cited that as an example of freedom of 


KAHANE: Right. 

PLAYBOY: Yet when Will 
was invited to speak to а Је 
J.D. L. protested against it 
KAHANE: Certainly, I would protest against 
any Jewish group's allowing a Jew hater 
to speak. 
PLAYBOY: 
Kunstler? 
KAHANE: William Kunstler, I think, has 
taken a position that is exceedingly det- 
timental to Jews. He aligns himself with 
the anti-Semitic section of the black- 
nationalist movement. I'm not saying that 
this man shouldn't have any lorum in 
this country, only that he shouldn't have 
Je 
Howed to speak in public if, given the 
power, he would grant me 
right. I don't care what his economic or 
social views are; all he has i0 do is tell 
that if he got power, he'd let me 
speak. 

PLAYBOY: Suppose he says he wants to 
annihilate the Jews, Would you permit 
him to speak? 

KAHANE: ОГ course not. Nobody has the 
right to put me into an oven. 
PLAYBOY: But doesn't democracy grant 
someone the right to say he'll put. you 
into an oven? 

KAHANE: You can't make thar kind of a 


m Kunstler 
ish group, 


Whats your objection to 


ish one. To me, anyone should be 


the same 


ay ощ 


Theyre made of lascivi 


PLAYBOY 


74 


statement in a vacuum, The Nazi who 
says tries to get enough people's 
minds changed so that he'll really be 
able to do it. Maybe he doesn't have 
enough power now. but what about five 
years from now? You know, we have 
tremendous thing about love in this 
country. Everybody has to love every- 
body. Well, I believe there is a certain 
mportance to hate. One has to hate 
justice. You can’t just "m not for 
ir"; you've got to bum it out of the 
human condition. I believe there is an 
objective standard of what is good and 
what js evil. Nobody can tell me that, 
given his place and time, Eichmann was 
|—and evil has to be stopped. 

io you employ your “objective 
standards” in Brownsville and Anthony 
Imperiale employs his “objective stand- 
ards” to justify white vigilante patrols in 
Newark. In this sense, how does J. D. L. 
differ from Imperiale's group? 

KAHANE: Imperiale is a racist, He doesn't 


like blacks because they're black. In 
that sense, we're as different as night 
and day. 


e had some abrasive 
encounters with black groups yourself, 
notably in regard to their demands for 
reparations from wealthy Jewish congre- 
gations. Doesn't it seem ironic to you 
that the Jews, who demanded and re- 
ceived reparations from the Germans, 
should deny them to blacks? 

KAHANE: ‘There's no question that an 
individual who commits a crime should 
pay for it—nor that the German genera- 
tion that committed terrible crimes must 


pay reparations for what it did. But 
there is no way I, whose parents came 
over here in the 19205, am going to pay 


for the sins of Baptist slaveowners. If 
about reparations, the 
1 line. But were 
not asking for reparations from the 
Catholic Church nor the Protestant 
churches; that’s done with. As for blacks’ 
tions from Jews, we owe 
пе апа that’s what they'll 


noth 
get from us. 


them 


PLAYBOY: 
charges against Jews 
installment plan operators, a 


There arc, 


however, specific 
slumlords and 
1 so forth, 

п 


in black neighborhoods. Surely you са 
understand black hostility to thes 


visible people. 
KAHANE: One hundred percent. No one 
ever said that slumlords 
They are. But when black militants go 
out in the streets and add the one word— 
g new 


Jewish slumlords—they add not: 


except an 
PLAYBOY: As J. D. L.’s strategy and tactics 
haye been described, they seem to owe a 
good deal to those of black militants 
themselves. 


KAHANE: The Talmud says "Who is 
wise? He who learns from all. people. 
We'e happy when people call us Pan 
thers, bec: we know a Panther doesn’t 
mess with a Panther, 

PLAYBOY: Does that mean that, in your 
opinion, rioting by militant blacks is 
justified? 

KAHANE: No, not in America. If the 
Soviet Union had allowed the kinds of 
changes for Russian Jews that this coun- 
try has allowed. for blacks, there would 
be no J.D.L. protests against the 
0.5.5. RÌ It's one thing to say this is a 
country where change hasn't come fast 
enough; but the fact is that change has 
come—and it's not just tokenism. 
"Fhere's been honest effort to meet. 
problems, there's been a revolution in 
this country. 
PLAYBOY: Mi 
claim the right—jus as you do—to 
use extreme methods to catalyze that 
revolution. 

KAHANE: There will always be such people 
— people who don't want to see the world 
become better. 

PLAYBOY: That argument ca 
against you. 

KAHANE: Any argument 
against anybody. 
PLAYBOY: Are you concerned that J. D. L. 
may be creating feclings of ап 
among blacks? 

KAHANE One thing we should 
learned by now is that you сап'є fight 
ant by sweeping it under the 
rug. The antiSemitism is already there. 
І don't like it when people talk about 
“Zionist pigs.” I don't like it when a 
red-neck does it; | don't like it when 
Bobby Seale does it. It bothers me that 
men like Lindsay and Rockefeller haven't. 
spoken out forcefully, that the entire 
Ww ASP establishment hasu't spoken out 
ast the overt anti-Semitism among 
black groups. 

PLAYBOY: Are you also concerned about 
anti-Semitism among the eth 
of middle America? 

KAHANE: Very much so. That's where the 
danger really lies in this country, and 
that’s why J.D.L. has been tying to 
open lines of communication with Jal- 
ns, Irish, Poles We don't care. what. 
“nice” people think. We do car 
these people think. We don't want them 
to love us, just respect us. 

PLAYBOY: Docs this aim account for your 
alliance with Joe Colombo's 
American Civil Rights League? 
KAHANE: Yes. Whatever you may thi 
Colombo, no other group has as ma 
mbers and speaks as clearly as his 
does for the lower-class and lower-middle- 
class ethnic. 

PLAYBOY: 15 it possible that J. D. L. and 
the Italian-American Civil Rights League 


riot 


at blacks disagree and 


n be turned 


be turned 


m 


were drawn together by a mutual 
athy to blacks? 

KAHANE: After Joe Colombo was shot by 
a black man at a league rally last year, Г 
went into the hospital room with his 
sons and others who were ready to take 
apart any black they saw. Not everybody 
could have gotten into that room tha 
day; І was one of only five outsiders 
there, and the only Jew. I spoke to Mrs. 
Colombo and to the boys and to the 
shtarkers, and 1 tried to get through to 
them that it was just some crazy guy 
who had done this—not all black people. 
I don't know what influence I had, but 
when Colombo's son Anthony made a 
statement to the press, the first thing he 
1 was exactly what I had been saying. 
1 feel I did my bit in tha 
PLAYBOY: Are you happy with the re- 
newed emphasis on ethnic identity that 
seems to be developing 
KAHANE: No, not at all. 

PLAYBOY: Why do you think it's hap- 
pening? 

KAHANE: I think because it’s the nature of 
the beast to look inward rather than 
outward—to seek to become part of a 
group he feels possesses right, justice, 
truth and everything else The smaller 
the group. the bigger he feels. 

PLAYBOY: But surely you're feeding ex- 
actly that, promoting Jewish pride and 
consciousnes, criticizing the superfici 
ity of what you've called “bagel-and-lox, 
Jewishness” in the United States. 
KAHANE: What we're dealing и 
change in Judaism that has been 
place not only in this country but in the 
materialistic West in general: All forms 
of life become things to be enjoyed. 
What kind of do we decide to buy? 
We go out and shop for it. What kind 
of Judaism do we want? We go out and 
shop for it. Nobody built a Conservative 
1emple because ol ideology; they built it 
because they wanted something a litle 
more modern, a little easier, When it 
filtered down to people that the Con 
servative rabbi would let them ride to 
synagogue instead of walk, that's what 
created a Conservative temple, There's 
o ideology in any of 
PLAYBOY: Are you saying that the kind of 
Judaism widely practiced in this country 


tip- 


this countr 


t really Juda 112 
KAHANE: Right. It m be the nonviolent 
principles ol Tolstoy; it may be the 
liberal principles of Americans for Dem- 
ocratic Action; but its not Judaism 


Like it or not, Judaism has very del 
e concepts, very rigid concepts. I's 
never been easy to be а Jew; through 
the ages, he was ruled by laws, regula- 
tions, customs whose basic purpose was 
to discipline I a human being—be- 
ause one cannot achieve a sense of 
morals or ethics unless one has the 


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PLAYBOY 


76 


ability to do without, to sacrifice. Our 
laws and customs are too dificult for 
the average person. For him, Judaism be- 
comes a question of what's more conve! 
ient, and the parents who choose this 
bageland-lox Judaism are paying the 
price. Their children, who see through 
this sham, aren't willing to keep even 
the bagels and lox. They've lost any 
logical reason for staying Jewish. When 
а Reform rabbi talks about the morals 
of Judaism and the ethics of Judaism, 1 
think that's wonderful; I'm all for 
morals and ethics, only what he's talking 
about isn't particularly Jewish. 

PLAYBOY: Are there such things as Jewish 
morals and ethics? 

KAHANE: Yes. Not to beat one’s mother is 
an ethic—but it's not particularly a Jew- 
ish ethic. For it to be Jewish, there must 
be something unique about it. 

PLAYBOY: For example? 

KAHANE: Consider the question of kosher 
food. Ask the American Jew, why kosher 
food? Nine out of eight will say because 
once upon a time, we Jews were the 
only people in the world who realized 
that one ought to be healthy, and that 
therefore we didn't cat pork and didn't 
get worms and trichinosis, That's non- 
sense. Kosher foods are postulated by the 
need for a sense of discipline. The im- 
portance of the rules lies in building up 
in a young child the capacity to do with- 
out if necessary. Take a young Jewish 
boy who observes the rules of kashruth. 
He gocs to a doubleheader at Shea Sta- 
dium and he sits through a long first game 
that goes into extra innings and he's long 
since finished the sandwich his mother 
gave him. Two hours later, he's sitting 
there and next to him somebody orders 


two franks, and they're passed down the 
row. He's famished but doesn’t order one 
Tov himself. Now, wl ppened to this 


youngster is a tremendous thing. He has 
learned that sometimes one would like 
Ч yer must be able to resist. 
Consider the Sabbath: For 24 hours, he's 
not able to do what he'd like to do. He 
can't play cards, watch television, go to a 
he can't go out and make moncy. 
Such restraints build up strength with 
him, so that one day, when he is asked 
to make a major sacrifice, it won't be that 
difficult, That, I think, is uniquely Jew- 
ish Judaism. Ethics aren't enough. Every- 
body's ethical. 
PLAYBOY: Are 
your young 
Jewish law? 
KAHANE: That’s what we're trying for. 
When a young Jew who has never felt 
very much for his Jewish past partici- 
pates in one of our protests, he experi- 
ences for the first time the fecling that 
he's doing something for Jews. It’s the 
first step back to Judaism. 


the lical activities of 
followers consistent with 


PLAYBOY: Is it realistic to expect young 
Jews in this society to return to Ortho- 
dox Judaism? 
KAHANE; J.D. L. isn't a religious organiza- 
tion. We're not interested in drawing 
them back to Orthodox Judaism. We 
want to get rid of jorance 
about what Judaism is, and then if they 
choose to practice it, finc. My own belief 
is that if а boy is given an opportunity 
to know what Judaism really is, not the 
absurdity that he's fed in his Hebrew 
school, he will understand its tre: 
dous concept and perhaps practice it a 
bit more. He should the right to 
reject Judaism; he should have freedom 
of choice. But the average young Jew 
has no choice. The kind of Judaism he's 
been given here in America 1 
choice but to reject it. 
PLAYEOY: And you, in їшїп, have rejected 
the values in which st American Jews 
have put their trust—liberalism, democ- 
racy, interfaith relations. Why do you 
mock those values? 
KAHANE: 1 don't mock the values. I only 
mock the people who think that these 
ilues will solve the Jewish problem in 
this country. 
PLAYBOY: What will? 
KAHANE: Actually, 1 take a very bleak 
view. I don't believe there is a Jewish 
future in this country. What 1 say to the 
young people on campuses is, “Your 
place is in Israel.” The only place where 
the Jewish people 
safety and spi 
ic. They're no different from anyone 
else. To be a minority is to be abnor- 
mal. Believe me, I understand far better 
than the average Jewish liberal the ago- 
ny of the black masses. It's difficult to be 
black and be normal when exerything 
you see, every value, is white; when the 
entire culture is the 
own. The idea that this is a 
that purposely engages in genocide of 
black people is nonsense, The black 
problem is simply that this is a white 
counuy, And the Jewish problem is that. 
this is by its very nature a Christian 
country. 
PLAYBO! an't one be a good Jew and 
ave no intention of living in Israel? 
KAHANE: There's a great deal of hypoc- 
risy on that. Three times a day, the prac- 
ticing Jew faces East and he says, “Ма 
our eyes behold Thy return to Zi 
Well, the return has occurred; Zion is 
there. On Yom Kippur, when i 
synagogue and temple 


their 


ves him no 


Jew serv 
ice, saying, "Next усаг im Jerusalem,” 
everyone is lying, from the rabbi on 
down, Israel is an integral part of Juda- 
ism, and I will debate any rabbi, an 
where, on this position: The belief that 


the place for Jewish people is the state 
of Isracl is central to Judaism. Thats 
the positive reason to go to Israel. 
"There's also a negative reason. 1 believe 
there is a physical threat to Jews in this 
country. J. D. L. exists as a very strange 
kind of Zionist group—one that urges 
people to go to Israel but, knowing that 
they won't go, does best to prove 
itself wrong about the threat here by 
giving strength to America’s Jews. 
PLAYBOY: Docs that explain your empha- 
sis on guns? 

KAHANE: My motto is, “Every Jew, 2 
Twenty-Two.” I would have made it 
an M-l, but it didn't rhyme, But I've 
been told by the court not to speak 
about guns 

PLAYBOY: Can you say whether weapons 
training is still going on at your J.D. L. 
camp in the Catskills? 

KAHANE: Oh, yes ОГ course, 

PLAYBOY: Just what is the physical threat 
you feel you face? Who is the enemy? 
Aren't you making too much of the 
anti-Semitic lunatic fringe? 

KAHANE: Not long ago, I was listening to 
one of those radio talk shows, where 
people phone in. Now, on those shows, 
you hear а lot of American voices, and 
it’s frightening. One night, they got 
onto the subject of busing. and onc 
calla—a g man—said, 
“1 would vote for the reincarnation of 
Adolf Hitler if it meant that my child 
would not be bused ten miles.” 

PLAYBOY: Arc the callers to those shows 
representative? Aren't they usually pret- 
ty odd people? 

KAHANE: If they're odd people, there are 
an awful lot of odd people out there. I 
think a country becomes odd in times of 
Very decent. very nice people be- 
gin behaving oddly when there's im- 
mi pressure on them. Germans аге 
human beings like everyone else. In 
1925, they would never have voted for 
Hitler. A. few years later, they did. 
AYBOY: 15 that а fair comparison? Ger- 
many, at that time, had no republican 
tradition, whereas America is among the 
oldest functioning republics in the world. 
KAHANE: There is no question that Ameri- 
«a's differences from the Weimar Re 
public were what kept this country 
from going down the same road to 
cism in the Thirties. But that expe 
rience strained our democratic structure 
to a dangerous degree; don't come to me 
nd say it can't happen here. I never say 
it’s going to happen: I do say it's quite 
probable. In the Thirt millions of 
people were ready to follow anti-Semi 
rabble-rouscers like Father Coughlin and 
Gerald L. К. Smith and Нису Long, 
who called themselves populists. These 
people weren't populists because they 
wanted to give the other guy a break; 


rational-scundi 


Introducing an old way 
to enjoy tobacco. 
p 


If you're one of the millions who 
like to smoke, chances are you think 
that smoking is the only way to 
really enjoy tobacco. 

Well, we have news for you: 

There’smore than one way to enjoy 
the pleasures of the tobacco leaf. 

As a matter of fact, people have 
been partaking of these pleasures in 
ways that have nothing to do with 
smoking for hundreds of years. 


Satisfying the aristocrats: 

Take the aristocracy in England. 

As far back as the 16th century, 
they considered it a mark of distinc- 
tion—as well as a source of great 
satisfaction—to use finely-cut, finely- 
ground tobacco with the quaint- 
sounding name of “snuff”. At first, — 
this “snuff” was, as the name suggests, inhaled through 
the nose. 


Just a pinch: 

Later on, the vogue of sniffing gave way to an even 
more pleasurable form of using tobacco— placing just a 
pinch in the mouth between cheek and gum and letting 
it rest there. 

Now, hundreds of years later, this form of tobacco is 
having the biggest growth in popularity since the days 
of Napoleon. 

And what we call “smokeless tobacco” is becoming a 
favorite way of enjoying tobacco 
with Americans from all walks of life. 


Anything but obvious: 

Why is “smokeless tobacco” be- 
coming so popular in America? 

"There are a number of reasons. 

One of the obvious ones is that it 
is a way of enjoying tobacco that is 
anything but obvious. 

In other words, you can enjoy it 
any of the times or places where 
smoking is not permitted. 

Thus, lawyers and judges who 
cannot smoke in the courtroom, 
scientists who cannot smoke in the 


laboratory, and many people who 
like to smoke on the job, but aren't. 
allowed to, often become enthusias- 
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In the same way, people who work 
or play with their hands get the com- 
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The big four: 

The four best-known, best-liked 
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It takes a little more time and practice to learn ex- 
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To get over that minor problem, 
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Smokeless Tobacco. A pinch is allit takes. 


7] 


PLAYBOY 


78 


they were populists because they wanted 
a break for themselves. And that tradi- 
tion is far from dead. George Wallace 
has the kind of charisma that Huey 
Long had. He's not a conservative; he's 
a populist. 

PLAYBOY: Are you implying that Wallace 
is an anti-Semite? 

KAHANE: Not at all. He's not an 
Semite. But there is serious anti-Semi- 
tism on the periphery of his movement 
that could break through at any time. 
You know, I was once involved in a 
research. project. investigating the radical 
right. 

PLAYBOY: How did that come about? 
KAHANE: In the early Sixties, a friend 
and 1 set up a research ute, our 
own business, We did a lot of work for 
the Govermnent—the State Department, 
the Pentagon. In 1963, we were contacted 
by onc agency that asked whether we'd 
be interested in researching radical 
groups, particularly on the right. 
PLAYBOY: What agency? 

KAHANE: Well... 

PLAYBOY: Was it the FBI? 

KAHANE: They'd say it's not true, 
PLAYBOY: Js it? 

KAHANE: All right, we were contacted by 
the FBI to do work on the Birch Tc 
was no big deal; I mean, I was no FBI 
agent. We just did contract work for 
them, and they paid us. 

PLAYBOY: How did you conduct your 
vestigation? 


nti- 


KAHANE: It was my idea that the best 
s 


way to do a research job on a group v 
10 join it. So L became member of the 
Birch Society under the name Michacl 
King. 

PLAYBOY: That's more or less а transla- 
tion of your name. 

KAHANE: Yes. You don't join the Bi 
ith 


and hope to get anywhere 
name Meir Kahane. I spent about two 
and a half years with them, and I really 
learned a lot. But it was dificult on 
ount of my religion. I constantly had 
up reasons why I couldn't attend. 
meetings on. Friday nights. 

PLAYBOY: Did you find that 
were really a serious threat? 
: What bothered me more than 
ng else was the large number of 
ostensibly normal people in the society. 
There's this great liberal arrogance th 
anybody who's right of center has to be 
a kook, a nut, an oddball, and it's not 
true. If it were, I'd feel happier about 
But there was a large number of 
physicians, attorneys, college graduates, 
who sat and listened to—and believed 
—things that were completely absurd 
about the Communist threat to Amet 
‘These people were pillars of the commu- 
y, and it frightened me that such 


Bircheis 


people were willing to believe such stuff. 
"hats what bothered me more than 
anything else about the Birchers. Today 
it’s the John Birch Society; tomorrow it 
will be a worse group. 

PLAYBOY: You and your organization do 
have one quality in common with many 
American conservatives: hawkishness on 
military issues. Your concern over Is 
rael's security is understandable—doubly 
so since your wife and four children 


live there. But you've also supported the 
war effort in Vietnam. Do you feel that 


is in some way tied in with Israel's 
interests? 

KAHANE: Yes. The Soviets know that the 
fiasco in Vietnam has so sickened Amer 
cans that they won't go to war again, 
During the 1967 Arab-Israeli war, the 
Soviets hinted at going in; President 
Johnson picked up the hotlin 
Said, "You stay out and well stay out," 
and the Russians stayed out, fearing a 
risk of confrontati There is no such 
risk today. The U.S. Army is demoral- 
nd ше American people—former 
awks as well as doves—say, "No more 
war adventures," 

PLAYBOY: Can you seriously ask the sup- 
port of this country's Jews for a war in 
Southeast Asia that most of them sce as 
immoral and unjust, simply because of its 
possible implications in Israel? 

KAHANE: The war in Vietnam was not an 
I find it incredible that 
people overlook the horrors in the 
Ho Chi Minh was a mass killer. 
If there were no Isracl, I would still 
support our effort in Vietnam. In the 
Thirties, they used to say, "Who wants 
to die for Danzig?" Nobody died for 
we just gave it up. In the 
end, millions more died for псе and 
agland. 

PLAYBOY: That sounds like the domino 
theory. 

KAHANE: The domino theory shouldn't 
be discounted. Sure, I would love to see 
the 80 billion dollais that’s set aside for 
our Armed Forces go into the rebuilding 
of slums, I'd like to see the two thirds of 
the Israeli budget that goes for the 
armed forces be used to rebuild slums. 
Who wouldn't? But there's a desperate 
problem here, which overshadows such 
problems as slums. The views of a George 
McGovern, who is a yery decent, well- 
meaning person, or of a John Lindsay, 
who is not а decent human being but 
a demagog, about diverting our resources 
and binding up the wounds at home 
l, if ca d to their conclusion, lead 
to neo-isolationism and doom every small 
country in the world. I believe we'v 
been fighting in Vietnam to keep the 
war from coming closer to home, But we 
should have gotten out a long time ago. 
PLAYBOY: If you're in favor of the war, 


and 


unjust war. 


w 


why do you say we should have gotten 
out a long time ago? 

KAHANE: What I’m saying is that if a 
particular war can be won, and its 
necessary for the prevention of aggres 
sion, then it should be fought. But from 
a practical standpoint, I think we 
should ated ourselves from 
Vietnam long ago, because we could see 
from the beginning it was a fiasco. The 
whole thing reminds me of the story of 
the n had two wives onc old 
and one young. The old one, every time 
she saw a black hair on his head, would 
pluck it out. And every time the young 
one saw a gray hair, she would pluck 
that out. So in the end, he was left bald. 
That's what the Vietnam war has been 
—neither a war nor a peace, and we've 
been left 


have ext 


n who 


PLAYBOY: use of your views on the 
war, and your criticism of "radical 
chic’ and the New Left, you've bee 


ger. Do you 


KAHANE: If people knew my feelings o 
most domestic issues, they'd be mightily 
shocked. I'm a lot more left of center 
than they are. 1 believe very strongly in 
Government intervention in social pol 
cy; it's outrageous that we don't have 
mor. But I dislike it heartily when 
people ask, “Are you a liberal or a 


conservative?” Its about time Jews 
stopped being knee jerk liberals or 
knee-jerk conservatives or just plain knee 


jerk people. 

PLAYBOY: But arcn’t you promoting a 
nd of knee-jerk Jewishness? J.D. L. 
seems to see every issue exclusively from а 
Jewish point of view. 

KAHANE: Right. 

PLAYBOY: Well, isn’t that knee-jerk Jew- 
ishness? Isn't there something odd about 
your calling on the Jewish people, who 
have won admiration for their universal 
outlook, to revert to a kind of triba 
ism? 

Universality is beautiful, no 
question abou Universality is beau 
iful when each and every group has 
deep respect for itself and can deal with 
other groups on mutually respectful 
terms. Then we can move together, Isa- 
speaks of “ihe end of days,” а time 
when all the nations will worship to- 
gether, Thats certainly the ultimate 
goal for Jews. But the prophets also 
speak of the need for Jews to observe 
the Sabbath, observe the laws. The way 
to reach universality is to make of your 
self an individual with pride in self; 
then you can extend your hand with 
confidence to other people and say, " 
am what ] am and you are what you 
Now, let's walk together to the com- 


mon end.” 


WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PLAYBOY? 


A young man on his way up in the world. Whether pursuing weekend pleasures or making major pur- 
chases, he's usually the first to try it, the first to buy it. Adventurous, acquisitive, he has the discre- 
tionary dollars to match his desires. Facts: PLAYBOY is read by more bachelors and newly married 
men than any other magazine—more than 40% of both markets. Want to sell men during the fastest 
spending years of their lives? Get into PLAYBOY. They do. Every month. (Source: 1972 Simmons.) 


New York + Chicago + Detroit . Los Angeles + San Francisco + Atlanta • London • Tokyo 


PLAYBOY 


82 


success. Someone, evidently, wanted him 
to stay there. 

Stadter was being paid handsomely to 
get Kaplan out of prison and into the 
United States. By profession, Stadter was 
a smuggler, so this wasn't entirely out of 
the line of duty, just a little more chancy 
prises. He had drifted 
into the business after the war, hauling 
bootleg whiskey in Oklahoma. A few 
years later, he was airfreighting cargo:s 
of capuchin and spider monkeys into the 
U.S. from Nicaragua, without the initi- 
tion of Customs, Hundreds of such laissez- 
faire import jaunts have turned him into 
an underground Smilin’ Јаска pilot 
who сап run the Mexican border with 
the very best of them; and he has become 
a specialist in Latin America, h n 
diverse contraband from lobsters to linen, 
using all manner of ruses and all varieties 
of transportation and refining the re- 
spected art of the bribe to a precise sci- 
ence. Sudter knows his business, 

In 1971, when Stadter was to pull off 
the most astonishing caper of his carcer, 
he was 51. A tall, well-built C: Шош 
he has the style of a Texan: 
tust-colored mustache, curly hair, 
boy boots, He tough as he 
needs to be, but he is generally friendly, 
candid and а believer in old-fashioned 
chivalry. If there are any such creatures 
as rugged individualists left, Stadter is 
one of them. There are no written con- 
tracts in his business; he mistrusts the 
world of brokers and agents and law- 
yers. With some reason: In his only 
serious encounter with the law, a con- 
spiracy case involving the possession of 
marijuana (he claims it was a frame 
up), he ended up spending five years in 
the Federal penitentiary at Lewisburg, 
Pennsylvania. In those five years, he 
managed to build up a hefty grudge 
ainst governments, bureauc 
ir issue. When the chance came to 
spring Kaplan, whom he viewed as an- 
other victim of justice miscatricd, Stad- 
ter saw it as a matter of freedom going 
st authority—as well as an op- 
portunity to turn a tidy profit, But as he 
got deeper and deeper into the Kaplan 
case, with its twists and shadows fading 
eral decades, the profit. motive 
became decidedly secondary. “Hell.” he 
said E “I would've taken him out for 
nothing, 


ndi 


th 


cy in the Caribbean for а long time, 
they ve been fighting over how to d 
it for just as long. In the late Twen- 
ties, Joel's father and his uncle, J. M. 
("Jack") Kaplan, had a savage fall 
out over their molasses business in. Cuba 
—an altercation, according to Joel, that 
left his father broke and made Uncle 


Jack rich. The brothers didn't speak for 
25 s Joel's own battle with Jack 
commenced 15 years ago, when the uncle 
anaged to wrest effective control of 
the family molasses business from his 
nephew in a deathbed conversation 
with Joel's father. Young Joel remained 
з tituiar vice president, while Uncle Jack 
heid all the mone te tightly, 

The financial fight Шах followed—and 
continues today—was intensified by the 
fact that the two men saw the world and 
the role of their companies in it through 
very different glasses. During the late 
Fifties, for instance, Jack's politics and 
financial interests were such that the 
CIA and the State Department found 
him a useful advisor on the troublesome 
matter of Cuba. He participated in and 
agreed with the U.S. decision to end all 
dealing with the "uneustworthy" С 
tro, even though it meant the loss of hi 
Cuban ор = was, of couse, 
the hope of Casuo's removal—via natural 
economic and pouitical developments on 
the island ог his overthrow th.ough the 
covert actions of the CIA. In any case, 
Jack Kapian, ішу appused and confoim- 
ing to this historic shift in U. S. sugar 
poiitics, in the early Sixties moved his 
business operations to the Dominican Re 
pubiic. Incidentaly or not, the D. 
can Repubiic at approximate.y the 
time began to receive the lion's share of 
the funds the CIA secretly ran through 
the J. M. Kaplan Fund, money carmu ked 
to buid "sale" social-demociatic alterna- 
tives to Communist or rudely anti-Ameri- 


ions. Th 


Du 
cal sympathies were drifting, somewhat 
erratically, to the left. He had joined 
the company after the Second World 
War, hedgehopping around Central and 
South America, overseeing the family 
interests. He became something of an 
entrepreneur. himself, starting ап inde- 
pendent molasses business in Peru and a 
tucking line in Oklahoma and Texas. 
Somewhere along the way, he met Luis 
Vidal, Jr., а ha.-Cuban, half-Puerto Ri- 
can who happened to be Generalissimo 
Rafael Trujillo's godson. As Trujidlo's 
personal “unofficial representative" —or 
business agent—lor the Domi 


Washi 
heritage, Vidal, Jt, 218 red moving in 


lower and darker circles—and into these 
circles he took Joel Kaplan. 
To this day, Kaplan is uncomfortable 


discussing his relationship with the unsa- 
vory Vidal. "I met him off and on for 
many years during the Fifties,” he said. 
“We drank a few beers. 
ship in fact was considerably chummier 
than that. Vidal. Jr. was president of a 
mysterious entity called the Paint Com- 


pany of America, which, despite its for- 
midable name, was never listed in any 
of the standard business directories. It 
appears to have served as a front for any 
number of Vidal's legal and extralegal 
s in the late Fifties. The illegal 

included gunrunning, bootleg- 
ging, high-class prostitution and a black- 
market exchange in the Cuban peso. ОЁ 
these, Kaplan admits to having been 
involved only in the gunrunning. “1 was 
bored handling so much molasses,” he 
said, "so I had no qualms about seeing 
what could be done when some people 
from Guatemala asked me about getting 
some guns.” The ubiquitous Vidal pro- 
vided the raw material and Kaplan dis- 
covered he had a vital facility for moving 
hot cargo into Central America—access 
to the bandoned old San Juan 
Sugar Company storage yards and grass 
airstrip at Veracruz. "The guns came in 
by air, I stashed few 
days, moving them on by air,” Kaplan 
said. This arrangement proved so con- 
venient that he and Vidal set up a “small 
operation" for importing arms into 
Guatemala, Nicaragua and Honduras. 
With a faint smile, Kaplan says that most 
of these guns went to “sportsmen.” These 
sportsmen opposed the governments in 
power in Guatemala and Nicaragua—one 
of which had been set up by the CIA 
when it overthrew the Arbenz regime in 
Guatemala in 1954, and the other of 
h was the Somoza family dictatorship 
in Nicaragua, a prime collaborator with 
the CIA in staging the 1961 invasion of 
Cuba. 

Kaplan indicates that he was princi- 
pally involved in what might bc de- 
saibed as the "left" side of Vidal's 
extensive arms operation. A much larger 
right" side of the business was carried 
out, rather unscupulousy, Kaplan 
thought, by Vidal. "Through his own 
sources, Vidal was busy selling arms to 
the rightwing, anti-Castro Cubans who 
starred in the Bay of Pigs. He was also 
known to be making heavy arms ship- 
ments from the south of Florida into the 
Dominican Republic to his godfather, 
whose thugs in turn supplied them to 
forces sworn to overthrow the generalis- 
simo's friends and cnemies in Haiti and 


now. 


them there for 


Venezuela. Kaplan and prospered 
in their little arrangement for several 
years—until late 1961, when the Mexican 


з of terminat- 
nship by murder- 


authoritics accused К: 
ing the business rela 

ing his panner. 
Kaplan claimed then and now that he 
was innocent—anċ there is good reason 
to believe him. Vidal had been in sei 
ous financial and political trouble for 
some time—he had been selling guns to 
Castro forces and to anti-Castro forces, 
shorting both sides—and he told Kaplan 
(continued оп page 94) 


“Oh, that's Marcello, our gondolier—remember?” 


!j 
77 
: uf 
D 
[AS 


i 
au 

` 

N 


nS? AA A 
‚е 


VUA 
Ser 

a 

52 


ish were drying on the 

roofs all over Pitmungo. 

and Gillon Cameron, 
looking down on the scene, 
thought that the whole town 
smelled of death and coal 
dust. To the north, he could 
sce Loch Leven and beyond 
the Leven hills, still green 
with patches of pine or 
brown with clusters of ash 
or oak, rising above the 
moorlands that were white 
under snow. 

‘There would be deer over 
there, Gillon knew, nesting 
in the dark, silent pines. 
They would be stripping 
the bark off the aspens and 
ash trees, browsing im the 
mast beneath the oaks, nuz- 
zling in the snow for acorns 
or beechnuts, fattening them- 
selves for the hard winter to 
come. A swirl of misty wind 
blotted out the hills and 
Gillon licked his lips, tast- 
ing the mine dust on them. 

Red meat and sinew, fiber 
of flesh and rich, warm 
blood: venison. Every man 
worthy of the name Scot de- 
served at least one roe deer 
for dinner in his life. 16 was 
bred in the bone—other- 
wise, what was the sense 
of God's having created him 
in Scotland and having put 
all that good meat roaming 
on Scottish grass? No salt- 
cod Christmas for the Cam- 
erons. Let all those poor 
bastards down there eat cod 
and skatés wings, but the 
Camerons were going to 
feast as Scottish families had 
feasted from the dark begin- 
gs of time: on а haunch 
of deer, hot, heavy and 
bloody on the board. 

Liar. Halfway down the 
hill, Gillon stopped. Liar— 
the great Highland roman- 
tic telling himself childlike 
stories. He had no ability 
to poach a decr, stalk it, 
shoot it, snare it. His heart 
could never go into the High- 
lands a-chasing the deer. 

Just then the sun, which 
had been shuttered by 


clouds most of the day. 
came through and the leaden 
gray of Loch Leven turned 
bright blue amidst the 
whiteness of the snow—and 
Gillon realized what a fool 
he'd been. In the streams be- 
yond that stretch of blue lay 
the other inalienable right 
of all Scotsmen—the full- 
sized salmon he must have 
on table once before 
he dies. The king of fish. 
Gillon knew then that the 
Camerons were going to have 
saumont—as it was called 
in Pitmungo—on Christmas 
he didn't go to jail 
or die trying. 

"The December fish, the 
first of the big ones, even 
this morning would be 
swimming from the Firth 
of Tay, down the Tay into 
the fresh waters of the Earn, 
up the little tributary whose 
name he didn’t know, 
through roiling, snowfed 
waters in the Leven hills, 
through a hundred possible 
pools and, finally, to the 
places where they would 
spawn. Gillon's heart began 
to thump at the daring 
of his idea. 

The rite Gillon had to 
perform was to unblacken 
himself, to drive the coal 
miner out of his mind and 
body, because a miner in 
salmon country is consid 
ered a poacher merely by 
being there. Gillon went 
down the hill to borrow 
the use of Mr. Selkirk’: 
tub. When he heard С 
lon's fears, the librarian 
was outraged. 

“Guilty until proven 
nocent?" he asked Gillon, 
who was heating the water. 
"Oh, 1 wish Karl Marx 
had known about this. What 
a lite chapter that would 
have made—the people's fish 
controlled by the gentry!” 

Gillon had bought a litle 
brush at the Pluck Me and a 
pumice stone to grind the 
coal dust out of the crevices 
of his body. As he washed, 


the surface of the water be- 
came coated with a scum of 
black, like a film on cook 
ing soup. It would take 
three tubs, at least. As he 
scrubbed, Gillon told Mr. 
Selkirk the facts of life 
along the salmon streams. 
First, there was the matter 
own's owning the 


salmon streams in Scotland— 
and then leasing them to the 
favored gentry. The second 
fact, he explained, lay in the 
nature of the fish, which no 
longer wanted to eat once 
they left the salt sea and 
arrived in the fresh water of 
the streams. Exhausted by 
their fight up the white wa- 
ter, they lay placid in the 
pools, storing up energy. A 
man could lie beside a 
pool and stroke the throat 
of one—and a poacher with 
gaff or grapple or big net 
could life one out of the 
water as if it were a wad- 
ing boot. Gentlemen anglers 
sometimes went years on end 
without hooking a fish. On 
the other hand, a тап 
caught with a spear or a 
gaff was fined ten pounds 
and given a jail sentence, not 
to speak of the beating the 
жакт wardens would have 
given him beforchand. 

It was Mr. Sclkirk's idea, 
then, that Gillon should go 
north as a bird watchcr, his 
excuse to wander in salmon 
country. As Gillon did his 
last rinses, Mr. Selkirk got 
down his handbook on the 
birds of Scotland and read 
the chapters on the red 
grouse and the golden eagle 
over and over in his pene- 
tating voice. 

When Gillon finally went 
home, Maggie his wife, 
said to him, "My God, lock 
at what you have done 
with yourself, You must be 
іп loof.” 

“I am not in love with 
anyone,” Gillon said grave- 
ly. She smiled at him in 
a knowing manner, but he 
refused to explain. He sim- 


ply waited, silent, until the 
boys had gone down to the 
pit and Maggie had gone 
to the washhouse. Then he 
put a grapple and a line 
wrapped up inside his tam 
mie, took up the plaid that 
would serve him as a coat, 
got his brassknobbed walk- 
ing stick and stepped out 
onto Tosh-Mungo Terrace. 

The sky was clear now; 
the day was cold and hard, a 
good one for the road. Gil- 
lon sct out strongly and bı 
afternoon he had reached 
the snow line. It was mys 
terious to him how swiftly 
he came upon it, first a trace 
of white in the air and then 
all at once snow coming in 
over the sides of his shoes. 
He knew that the shoes 
were a serious mistake, but 
wearing his miner's boots 
would have put him under 
suspicion at once. By the 
time he saw the lights of 
the inn down by Loch 
Leven, his feet were wet and 
beginning to freeze. 

"Those lights were inviting 
and the bar would be open 
—but, in all probability, 
the water bailiffs would be 
drinking there. He passed 
by, walking on to the lake's 
edge, where the bitter night 
wind struck his face. Among 
the pines, he found one of 
the little summer houses and 
managed to open a window. 
There, in one of the closets, 
he found blankets and, after 
he had eaten some snow and 
his four shaves of bread, he 
made a nest on one of the 
beds and fell asleep. 


In the morning, he could 
see the lake from his bed 
was cold and gray, like sheet 
metal. During the night. a 


front had come through 
from the north, and Gil- 
lon could hear the wind 


whumpfing in the pines out 
side the cottage. He took his 
socks from inside his shirt, 
where he had put them to 
dry, and made plans as he 


there’s more than one way to kill a salnon—but getting it all the way home is another story 


GILLON CAMERON, POACHER 


fiction By ROBERT CRICHTON 


85 


PLAYBOY 


86 


put them on. The wind was driving and 
waves came up over the ice-covered ones 
on the shore, but that wind was a friend. 
Tt would cover his tracks, would keep 
the water bailiffs close to home and would 
make the big salmon shelter in the pools. 
‘The fish didn't like to move when the 
water went below 40 degrees. So as not to 
be at the inn too early, he waited and 
read two chapters in his bird book several 
times. At five, he rose and went through 
the snow. 

In the darkened foyer, he saw no one 
until suddenly a woman spoke to him—an 
‘old woman, standing not three feet away. 

“We dinna expect naebody until seven 
or eight.” 

“Aye, well, ГП go on, then. 

Nay, dinna gang. I'll bring ye some 
food.” 

She took him into the empty dining 
room and, in a few minutes, brought 
him a sun-dried haddock, bacon, shaves 
of toasted bread and some strong tea. 
He knew that he shouldn't eat it all—no 
gentleman would—but he was so hungry 
from two months of semistarvation that 
he couldn't control himself. 

The woman watched him. “This isn't 
the normal breakfast, now, is Gillon 
asked. “Why did you bring all this to 
me?” 

She looked around the dining room, 
then leaned and whispered in his ear. 
Gillon turned as red as the sun, which 
was just now touching the far edge of 
the lake. “Does it show all that much?” 

"То those who ken, it does. My dad- 
die was ane; my son is ane." She put 
her lips near his ear again. "Are you 
goin’ after something?" He nodded. “For 
the family, for Christmas?” 

“Aye, that’s it" The first person he'd 
met had exposed him. 

“Guid,” she said, not bothering to 
whisper, “get a mickle ane.” 

“How do І pay for all this?" he asked. 

"For what?" she asked, and their eyes 
met. “God go wi’ you, and watch out for 
Mr. Maccallum.” 

“God go with you,” said Gillon, as if 
he believed in God, but when he stood 
up, he felt stronger than he had for weeks. 

With his warm plaid around him, he 
walked until he reached the path of 
Condie, and there he turned down to- 
ward the salmon stream. At a distance, 
he could see anglers and their gillies, 
but no one paid Gillon any attention. 
He'd go on to where the glens got 
deeper and the pools more filled with 
promise. By that time, it would be “Set- 
terday's slop.” the dangerous time when 
Imon fishing was forbidden and any- 
one by the streams might be considered 
a poacher. 

He made his way along, not trying to 
hide and waiting for two o'clock. The 
path was well trodden and there were 
steps in the steep places, cut by the 


gillies so that the gentlemen anglers 
wouldn't slip into the stream. Gillon 
pretended that he was strolling and paid 
litle attention to the deep pools. but he 
could sense the fish resting under the 
dark waters, their silvery scales almost 
black, their tails waving slowly back and 
forth with the arrogance of size and 
self-control. Finally, he found a pool that 
he felt was perfect and he stopped—and 
this was where the water bailiff caught 
him. Gillon hadn't heard him co 

“Looking for something?" The bailift 
touched him on the shoulder with a gaff. 
Gillon was pleased with himself because 
he didn't jump, didn't turn and apolo- 
gize lor being there. 

"Yes, I'm looking for one of the big 
ones. They say they're all through here, 
but I haven't seen any.” 

"There's no fishing here. The streams 
are closed now.” 

Gillon continued to study the stream. 
When he finally turned to look at the 
man, he was surprised, because. for a 
moment, he seemed to be seeing Mr. 
Drysdale, the water bailiff at Strath 
Nairn. They're all a breed, Gillon 
thought, but he said aloud, “I don't want 
to catch one, I want to see it.” 

"You don't catch a salmon, you fill it.” 

“Tve heard that they some 
as much as thirty pounds,” Gillon said. 

"Thirty? Fifty, man. I've even killed 
them at fifty-three.” He was proud of 
his fish. 

“I'm here studying the birds” Gillon 
said, “but the people at the Loch Leven 
Inn said 1 might see a salmon when all 
the anglers were gone. Is it true that the 
female builds a nest for her eggs in the 
sand? A real nest 
The bailiff stared at Gillon's 
оште a workingman.” 
It was a terrible thrust, but Gillon 
had to keep talking. “I have to earn my 
way, like you, I suppose. Not 
tofis. 

“A workingman along a salmon stream 
must be a poach 

Gillon forced himself to laugh. “And 
how can I poach a fish if I don't even 
know where to look?" 

“There are ways,” said the bailiff, but 
Gillon could tell by his saying it that 
he'd already conduded Gillon was inno- 


mes run 


ds. 


cen fou don't have the broad accent,” 
the bailiff added. 
“I wouldn't know about that. I'm 


from the Highlands, Cromarty hills, 
where we run a bull farm. Shorthorns 
crossed with Galloways.” 

"m Maccallum. Come on, then. You 
might as well sec a salmon properly. I'll 
show you what a salmon stream is all 
about.” There was a note of teaching in 
his voice, as if Gillon’s point had been 
made. They were two Scotsmen, not 
English gentlemen with their h 
waders and their gillies running up and 


down the banks to bring them meat pies 
and whisky. 

He showed Gillon some hens in a 
gin-clear pool, where they were nudging 
stones and gravel into a redd for laying 
their eggs. They saw long, haggard 
Кей, spent from spawning and spill 
ing their milt all over the redds. They 
сате to pools—all of them too deep for 
Gillon's plan—where the cocks were at 
rest, sluggish in the cold water and sav- 
ing their energy for the rapids ahead. As 
they walked farther downstream, they 
arrived at the pools where the clean fish 
would be, those that hadn't spawned yet. 
Even before the bailiff pointed it out, 
Gillon saw the pool. The pool he'd been 

g for. 
Quiet, n 


callum said. 


м, and move slow, ac 
And there was Gillon's fish, 
lying in the shallow pool away from the 
roiling water, the shadow of its body 
enormous along the bottom. Gillon was 
startled, almost frightened at the si 
“A bull" said Maccallum. "You could 
Eo a year without seeing one, a lifetime 
without killing one” He suddenly 
clapped his hands and Gillon jumped, 
but the salmon didn't move. Gillon felt 
hiis heart racing. 

"This one will stay 
callum said. "Do у 
going to doz I thi 
day morning and 
get on the water. 

“1 thought the bailiff wasn't supposed 
to take a fish,” Gillon said to make sure 
that they were now brothe: 

“Once a winter, eve: 


for days" Mac- 
know what I'm 
k TII come back Mon 
ill it before the tofis 


n crime. 
once in a while 
when you see a cock salmon like that 
cock salmon, we bend the rule a little." 

He winked at Gillon. And Gillon 
winked back, saying that it was a shame, 
but he would be gone home by then 


The waiting was the hard part. It was 
cold, but a fire was too dangerous, and 
Gillon made a little shelter of pine 
boughs close to the pool and waited for 
darkness. The bailiffs would make one 
last sweep of the stream to make sure 
that no one was trying to take fish by 
torchlight. He was starving again, The 
big breaklast had broken the chain of 
denial and he was paying for it. It was 
better to go without than to have and 
then have not. 

As the light dimmed, he peered at the 
pool and thought he saw the water stir 
ring—that would be the fish moving in 
its sleep to balance itself. His eyes were 
now beginning to adjust to the deep 
twilight when he saw the salmon rise. 
the dean and healthy silver of 
ing before it sank agai 
mine,” Gillon whispered. "Now you be 
long to me." 

He opened his coat and, with numb 
fingers, unbuttoned his shirt. His feet felt 
partly frozen and they made movement 

(continued on page 90) 


s side 


You're 


two new films pair big jim with brenda sykes and stella stevens 


CRESTING ON THE PROFITABLE Wi of Shaft and its successors, which blend 
sex and violence with soul, the producers of two new films—Slaughter and 
Black Gunn—are placing their money on the box-office pull of ex—football star 
Jim Brown. In Slaughter, with Playmate Stella Stevens (below), Brown works 
his way from big-city ghetto to South American villa on a dual mission of 
vengeance and intrigue involving internation: sters. He takes on organ- 
ized crime again in Black Gunn—this time in an cflort to get some of its 
long green for the cause of black power. In this undertaking, big Jim is aided 
and abedded by Brenda Sykes (above)—another рїлүвоү pictorial favorite. 


In Black Gunn, Brown plays a pros- 
perous Los Angeles night-club owner 
who gets caught in a war between 
militancy and mobsterism. As the film 
opens (left, above and belov), Gunn 
and his stewardess girlfriend (Brendo 
Sykes) reap the sweet rewards of her 
eventful layover in Gunn's town. 


Slaughter moves Brown—and the 
action—to Latin America, where 


(right, above and below), os а returned 
Green Beret, he tackles both the Syn- 
dicate опа Stella Stevens (as Ann 
Cooper, an independent underwarld 
operative) in order to avenge the 
gangland-style murder of his parents. 


PLAYBOY 


GILLON CAMERON «c по» page se) 


slow and clumsy. He uncoiled the oiled 
line he had wrapped around his waist 
that morning and took the grappling 
hook from its hiding place. Ву this 
time, he was so cold that he couldn't 
feel the wind against his body, as if he 
had passed through to the other side of 
coldness. When he couldn't thread the 
grappling hook to the line, he went 
upstream a little and did it under water. 

Still, he was moving with complete 
confidence. He dragged from hiding the 
pine pole he had found earlier in the 
afternoon and began to work it out over 
the water until he could lodge the end 
of it on a boulder at the far side of the 
pool. Then, straddling the pole, he be 
gan to wade into the pool. There were a 
moon and stars now and Gillon could 
make the fish out; he even thought that 
һе could see scars and bruises on its 
back, the marks of its battering from 
stones and weirs and rapids on the way 
up. It was almost certainly one of those 
rare salmon to take the spawning jour- 
ney twice, and that made Gillon feel 
better. He wouldn't be denying the fish 
the right to perform its function in life. 

TIl make this quick," he promised 

it. “As painless as possible.” Stupid to 
Ik to a fish, but, in a way, it was 
Iming. 
When he had edged out to reachi 
distance of the salmon, he dropped the 
grappling hook until it hung just in 
front of the salmon's eyes. Gillon knew 
that the fish wouldn't take the hook, 
nd thus the hook must take the fish. 
He eased the line slowly to bring the 
grapple alongside, until at last it was 
resting on the gill cover. Then. trem- 
bling from both cold and tension, he let 
slide down with enormous care until 
the hook was under the gill flap. Then 
he ripped. 

It must have been a great and terrible 
pain, the barbs raking the scales and 
even the tissue itself. The bull leaped, 
sank to the bottom of the pool and 
stayed there, a long blackness against 
the shadowy water. It was moving back 
d forth in hurt or anger, rubbing its 
head against an edge of stone, using the 
motion salmon employ to scrape off ac 
cumulated sea lice from their gills. With 
little hope, Gillon lowered the grapple 
again, giving it the Ballyshannon 
gle, just on a chance that the fish would 
be furious enough to snap at it. But 
salmon have more patience than men. It 
flicked its tail and went to a far part of 
the pool A stream of bubbles arose, 
almost as if the fish were spitting at him, 
and Gillon felt perversely proud of the 
defiance. 

He knew that he had the fish, but the 
fish had him, too, and the only question 
between them was the kill. Gillon 
thought of using a heavy rock—but he 


realized at once that it would sink slowly 
as the fish moved to another part of the 
room. But then the word room seized him 
with ilaration. Any good miner 
knows how to seal off one room from 
another, or even one part of a room. in 
case of fire or flood in the pit. In the 
same way. Gillon could make a bratiice 
of stones and clay to close off part of the 
pool. It nearly made him laugh aloud to 
think of it: Just because he was a miner, 
working most of his life in wet and 
ess, he knew the means to win i 
way glen. 

He decided to work in his dothes and 
later dry them by a fire—that would 
mean little risk at three or four in the 
morning. Standing in water above his 
knees, he began to build the first of hi 
brattices. He had hands for stone, an 
instinct about where to reach in the 
darkness for the next, ht one. At 
making a pack to support а mine roof, 
Gillon had always been considered the 
best workman in Lady Jane Number 
Iwo. And, since most of the stones had 
been worn flat by ages of water, the job 
went swiftly. Still, only a Geordie could 
labor that way, bent double for hours. 

At last, the first wall was finished. The 
salmon could no longer retreat to the 
deeper part of the pool The pain in 
Gillon's feet had begun aj E 
didn't know whether that sign was bad 
or good. He resisted the notion of р 
ing out to start his fire. As long as the 
water didn't freeze. his blood would run 
He began the second brattice 

He had no idea whar time it was 
when he finished that wall and came out 
of the water. The fish was within three 
walls now—the row of boulders in front 
of it and a brattice on cither side. He 
could try now or he could build one 
more barrier, locking the salmon com 
pletely. He decided to build. 

It took what he thought to be about 
an hour. Then hc came out, walking on 
legs with all feeling gone, and began to 
make his fire. It had to be a little one. a 
tempting one just at the edge of the 
pool. The salmon in its way was like the 
Druid, in love with fire and sun, help- 
lessly drawn to their light. As the flame 
started up, Gillon waited with the brass 
knobbed stick in his hand. 

The silvery head suddenly split the 
surface and һе struck. At first, he 
thought that the hit was true, but the 
head dipped under and the fish flicked 
away. “Arrogant bastard.” Gillon said 
between his teeth. He had a sense that 
the night was runni Я 
knew that all of his chances had now 
rrowed down to a single, 
He had heard of it often, the wrestling 
of the fish, It was the ati 
nhood in the west of Scotland, along 
the Highland shores, where boys were 


out on 


st on 


n to 


sent into the tide pools to kill their first 
salmon, But those pools would be warm 
nd shallow and the fish not so savage as 
a salmon on the drive to reproduce. As 
he forced himself to move forward into 
the water again, he seemed to have an 
understanding of all the endurance 
must have had to come this far—the 
years in the North anti on the 
never-ending run from porpoises, seals 
s and sharks: finally, the run [or 
d death. hundreds of ocean 
miles; then up the rushing rivers and 
snow-fed streams to this very pool and 

fate at. the hands of Gillon Cameron, 
miner and poacher. 

By now, Gillon had climbed over the 
rear brattice and was herding the fish up 

inst the boulders at the head of its 
Soon its nose was touching stone. 


pen 
Gillon sprang, 
"The strength of the fish, the force of 


its thrust to get tree was shocki 
held it in his arms, thrusting it 
the smooth stone and trying to crush its 
head against the rock. It whipped pow- 
erfully against him, torquing its body 
back and forth to spring fee. When it 
broke Gillon's hold, it sank back to the 
bottom of the pool and lay quiet, possi- 
bly somewhat stunned. 

“I'm sory, fih," Gillon said. He 
leaned against а boulder and let the 
water run from his shirt and trousers, 1 
must be mad, he thought. 1 have come a 
long way to this forest; in the dead of 
winter, in the dead of night, in danger 
of jail, in danger of freezing to death, 1 
have built three stone walls and now 
ds, 1 


with my bare, bleeding | 
tn 


am 
ng to kill a 40-pound fish. 

Almost ally. his hand was 
ching for a pointed stone. He hadn't 
wanted to disfigure the fish. but now 
it was the only way. He got one arm 


head. Its 


as fı 
Ii lashed 


ad to let go. The salmon 
as it broke free agi 


against the brattice, but the wall held. 
Gillon sensed what would h п next. 
"There was no room to run in the pool 


and so, when the jump came, it was 
almost straight up and slow, the body of 
the fish barely arching. a beautiful gold 
d silver in the firelight from the 
shore. The fish was alive with death in 
him—and Gillon drove the stone with 

all the force he had left 
Die, for Christ's sake. die,” he said. 
The salmon dropped. descended to the 
bottom of the pool again 
very slowly lifted it and found 
that the body He stood ex- 
hausted for a moment, cradling it, tast 
ing nd something of 
salmon. He realized that he was tasting 
‚ the sced at last being poured out 
onto the waters to fertilize no eggs now, 
(continued on page 201) 


nd then ro: 


Sillon 
was still, 


“According to Ralph Nader, Momma, this is 
the safest show in Las Vegas.” 


Game*Plan, 


want to kick a 40-yard field goal, win at le mans or shoot 18 holes in the low 70s? no sweat! 


92 
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


— WE ALL KNOW WHAT THE WORLD'S most popular indoor sport is, of course. But for you fans who wish 
Б ==. to while away a cozy evening by the fire or a rainy Saturday afternoon engaged in another form of 

JZ friendly competition, there are dozens of sports games available that offer almost all the pleasure 

“== and certainly none of the pain that go along with their real-life counterparts. Some are computer- 
ized, others are board and dice, and a few, such as Tennis Anyone? and Shove-It, come with pint-sized playing surfaces 
that require a surprising degree of manual dexterity. (Magnavox even markets an electronic marvel called Odyssey 
that turns your boob tube into a remote-controlled playing field.) But whether you've opted for а day at the races, on 


the gridiron, the diamond or wherever, you can bet your next turn that it's going to be a ball. Let the games begin! 


Playboy's Guide To Sports Games 


NUMBER OF 
PLAYERS TYPEOF GAME 


NAME OF GAME 
AUTO RACING 
Speed Circui 


BASEBALL 
Baseball 


Board and performance chart 


Board, dice and team booklets 


MANUFACTURER 


Sports Illustrated Games 9.95 


Baseball Strategy 


Board, die, offense and defense charts 


Avalon Hill 4.98 


Big League Baseball 


Board, dice and play chart 


зм 8.95 


Computamatic Baseball 


Battery-powered console and field overlay* 


Electronic Data Controls — 34.95 


Skittle Baseball 


Plastic field, scoring bumpers, steel baseball 
and suspended magnetic bat 


Aurora 5.99 


Strat-o-matic Baseball 


Board, dice and players’ cards 


Strat-o-matic Games 13.00 


World Series Computerized Baseball 


BASKETBALL 
Computamatic Basketball 


Computerized bat-pitch dials and play chart 


Bottery:powered console and court overlay“ 


E. S. Lowe. 695 


Electronic Data Controls 


Playoff Computerized Basketball 


FOOTBALL 
College Football 


Computerized shot dials and play chart 


E. S. Lowe 


Board, dice and team charts. 


Sports Illustrated Games 


Computamatic Football 


Battery-powered console and gridiron overlay* 


Electronic Data Controls 


Football Strategy 


Board, die and defense cards 


Avalon Hill 


Pro Football 


Board, dice and team charts 


Sports Illustrated Games 


Rose Bow! Computerized Football 


Computerized yardage dials, pass-kick-run 
Selector and play chart 


E. S. Lowe 


Strat-o-matic Football 


Board, dice and players' cards 


Strat-o-matic Games 


Thinking Man's Football 


GOLF 
Computamatic Golf 


Board, dice and offense-defense selector 


Battery-powered console and course overlay* 


зм 


Electronic Data Controls 


Handicap Golf 


Hole boards, dice and handicap charts. 


Sports Illustrated Games 


Thinking Man's Golf 


HOCKEY 
Blue Line Hockey 


Board, dice, distance and direction finder 


Board, dice, shot calculator and penalty cards 


3M 


3M 


Computamatic Hockey 


HORSE RACING 
Win, Place & Show 


SAILING 
Computamatic Sailing, 


SHUFFLEBOARD 
Shove-it 


SKIING 
The Great Downhill Ski Game 


TENNIS 
Tennis Anyone? 


ODYSSEY 


(incorporates ayto racing, baseball, 
football, handball, hockey, rifle shoot- 


пе, skiing, table tenni: 
ng sicing tennis, tennis and (5 


204 


ll" 


5 


Battery-powered console and rink overlay* 


Board, dice, racing programs, stable cards and 


and course overlay 


Minishovers, magnetic disks and 38-inch vinyl 
court 


Mountain-slope board and tr 
Foam-pad court, minirackets, ball disks and net 


Anallelectronic game simulator, Odyssey uses 
апу 18-inch or larger TV setas a game board. It 
includes a master control unit that produces 
self-moving or player-movable images on the 
screen, two player controls, game cards and 
Mylar overlays that set the screen up for a par- 
ticular game. Signals from the master control 
unit reach the set by a cable connected through 
a switch to the set's antenna terminals. 


Flectronic Data Controls 


Franklin Merchandising 


Franklin Merchandising 


Franklin Merchandising — 10.00 


*Computamatic games" console is designed to be used with any of the interchangeable game-board overlays ($9.95 each). All are played from 
the same battery powered console (batteries included) that comes with апу one complete game set. 


PLAYBOY 


94 


BREAKOUT „гаво 


several weeks before his supposed de- 
mise that he intended to disappear for 
a while. Kaplan thinks he did just 
that and doubts that there ever was a 
murder. That doubt was shared by some 
Mexican officials, who refused to issue a 
death certificate for Vidal because sup- 
posed identification of the body was too 
vague. The “widow,” for instance, later 
told an interviewer that, although she 
was sure the corpse she had viewed in 
the Mexico City morgue was that of her 
husband, “they had replaced his black 
cyes with blue ones. 

Whatever happened to Vidal, some- 
one was determined to nail Kaplan for 
the crime—even though, as far as сап be 
ascertained, his only encounter with Vi- 
dal in Mexico City on the day he disap- 
peared had been to drive him from the 
airport to his hotel. It was a short while 
later in Lima, Peru, on a business trip 
that Kaplan heard of Vidal's “death.” 
When he returned to New York a few 
days later, the Spanish-language press 
was speculating that the Mexican authori- 
ties wished to talk to Kaplan as a pos- 
sible suspect. On the advice of his lawyer, 
he decided to take a wip to Europe. 
But it was an unsuccessful dodge: One 
bright Sunday morning in the early 
spring of 1962, Kaplan walked out the 
front door of Madrid hotel and was 
pinioned between two police officers. Не 
soon found himself sitting across a desk 
from Luis Pozo, the Spanish chief of 
Interpol, the international police agen. 
cy, who informed the millionaire all 
one breath that he was wanted for mur- 
der in Mexico but not to worry because 
! and Mexico hadn't been officially 
talking for decades and no extradition 
treaty existed between the two nations. 
Poro said that Kaplan "might' be de- 
ported to France and allowed him the 
Spanish. eq 


alent of one phone call, 
which in this case was a telegram crying 
for help to the American embassy. Kap- 
lan never heard from the embassy. After 
he spent a week in the Madrid jail, 
Pozo showed up, looking a bit flustered, 
and told him that "orders had come 
down from the highest sphere of the 
Spanish government" to reverse long- 
standing policy and to cooperate with 
Mexico—in his case, anyway. Two hours 
later, Kaplan vas in a jet on his way to 
lace trial in Mexico. 

At the earliest stage in the long pro- 
ceedings against Kaplan, a Mexican 
judge. citing lack of evidence, reduced 
the charge against him to being an ac 
cessory after the fact. But before Kaplan 
could write out a check for 75,000 pesos" 
bail, the federal district attorney stepped 

» removed the judge for "incompe- 
tence” and revoked bail. Mexican legal 


experts have said that the irregular pro- 
ceedings against Kaplan violated Mexi- 
co's double-jeopardy law, since he was in 
essence tried twice for the same crime. 
His Mexican attorney was one of the 
ton's leading constitutional experts, 
Victor Velasquez. But the Kaplan case 
turned out to be beyond the realm of 
mere lawyers. “Obviously, something 
other than the law is keeping Mr. Kap- 
lan in jail, because there are no legal 
grounds for him being there at all," 
Velasquez once said. He also points out 
that at least six prominent Mexican 
judges refused to try him because of the 
dubious legal grounds for the charges. 
ally, a seventh judge, one whom 
Velasquez describes as "politically com- 
promised,” took the case. To no one's 
surprise, he found Kaplan guilty and 
sentenced him to 28 years. When the 
Mexican Supreme Court turned down 
Velasquez’ appeal in 1968, the distin- 
guished, gray-haired attorney threw up 
his hands. “This has become an issue 
of politics, not law," he said. 

To Judy Kaplan Dowis, who hired 
, Stadter came well recommended; 
he had a reputation for completing any 
job he undertook, and doing it on 
schedule. She needed someone like that. 
For the past eight years, she had been 
exploring every channel, legal and ex- 
tralegal, to get her brother out of prison. 
She had, at various times, enlisted the 
help of an unlikely cast of adventurers 
that had included a defrocked priest, a 
one-armed Canadian, an erstwhile Green 
Beret demolitions expert, a former CIA 
contract pilot and a New Left radical 
from Big Sur who was aided by a crew of 
Sausalito wharf rats and abalone poach- 
ers. Fach had his own escape scheme 
Some, involving straight bribes, were the 
esence of simplicity; but the officials, 
lamentably, refused to stay bribed. Other 
plots were more ingenious. In one, the 
ex-pricst performed a putative marriage 
mony between “Luis Vidal" and one 
fictional Lucia Magana. The vows were 
duly registered and certified, and it was 
Kaplan's hope that this proof of Vidal's 
continued existence, hence nonmurder, 
would be enough to free him. It wasn't 
Another scheme involved the purchase of 
a van, which was then painted to dupli- 
cate the laundry trucks that served the 
prison. Two guards were bribed to look 
the other way and Kaplan was to be 
spirited out with the dirty sheets and 
dropped in the hills There a seasoned 
operator would meet him, fill him with 
vitamins and pep pills and walk him 
across the mountains overnight to a wa 
ing escape plane. That one fell through 
when the guards backed out; it’s doubt- 


ful, anyway, whether he would have been 
able to manage the hike. 

‘There was another plot in which two 
airplanes were gassed up and ready near 
the border and a former Air Force colo: 
nel was signed up to fly Kaplan out of 
Mexico. There was even a backup es 
«ape vehide, in the form of a 1962 
Pontiac that had been converted into a 
sort of armored car by salting flak jack- 
ets in the doors and rear end. A crew of 
renegades went into Mexico, equippei 
with a .38 stolen from the California 
Highway Patrol, special armor-piercing 
bullets, two machine guns, selected side 
arms and a sack full of cash. They spent 
four frustrating months hanging around 
, waiting for а bribe connec 
to deliver. An assistant warden 
agreed to drive Kaplan out in the trunk 
of his car but changed his mind—keeping 
the $1000 down payment. 

When Stadter got mto the Kaplan- 
rescue act, yet another escape attempt was 
in the process of going awry. Kaplan 
had approached an inmate who ran a 
private traile-manufacturing enterprise 
—using convict labor—within the prison 
"This inmate was paid to build a secret 
compartment into the bulkhead of one 
of the trailers, Kaplan was to wiggle into 
the compartment, and when the trailer 
was driven out for a test run—a normal 
procedure—the newly employed Stadter, 
as wheelman, would be waiting for him 
outside. A $10,000 advance was wired to 
the inmate's bank in Mexico City, but he 
seemed to be stalling. Smelling a rat, 
Stadter wired Judy to stop payment on 
the check. Too late. The Mexico City 
bank manager had cleared payment, and 
later claimed that he hadn't received the 
stop notice in time. Perhaps it had been 
delayed in transit, he said regretfully, or 
misplaced in his bank offices. 

Stadter did not discover until weeks 
later that the bank manager was the 
uncle of the inmate's wife, 


Although he was nominally in charge 
of the next prison-break effort, Stadter 
was never too happy about it. An assign- 
ment, that was all it was—he had no 
part in organizing it. But it was going to 
be tricky, so he imported one of his best 
and most trusted operatives, a man 
known, unfathomably, as Pussy. “Pussy 
is one of those men with what seem like 
unlimited abilities,” Stadter says of him. 
“His father was Portuguese, his mother 
French, and nobody knows what combi- 
nations preceded them. He's light enough 
to be white, dark enough to be black. 
He can handle himself in different lan 
guages, in proper dialects, but he knows 
when to talk and when not to. He can 
fit in anywhere. I could not function in 
Mexico without Pussy.” Before the year 

(continued on page 210) 


smiling with both his faces, the undaunted semite bravely 
picked his way through the ethnic mine fields of new york 


fiction by olan goldfeiw master of Arabic, 


French, Spanish, English and Hebrew, Bebert, talky 
Judaeo-Berber adventurer, came to New York. 

“1 ат an excellent salesman,” he told Drexson of 
Drexson's Ltd., a fancy haberdashery in the Bronx; and 
Drexson, because he identified accent with culture and 
associated culture with class, and class with better busi- 
ness, and liked the way Bebert barreled out his chest to 


make claims for himself, put him on. Also, Bebert had 
said that he was an Israeli, which was true—but only 
lately—and that his parents were dead, which was not— 
since they remained in Fés—and that he was here to 
study physics, which was ridiculous, because the only 
atomic weights he knew anything at all about had no 
relation to elements but to kilos of hash. 

Bebert did well at Drexson's (continued on page 122, 


ILLUSTRATION BY FREO GERLACH 


95 


THE 
ORDEAL 
OF 
DANIEL 
ELLSBERG 


personality By JOE McGINNISS 


heroism’s darkest hours—after the 
act of conscience, before the cathartic trial 


I. was, by almost any standard, a heroic act. In 
volved, its potential effect upon the course of a nation, Daniel Fllsberg’s de- 
cision to make public the Pentagon papers was the stuff of which, in another age, an epic might have been 
formed. Confronted by what seemed a moral imperative, Ellsberg challenged—in a way that no one before 
him had dared—the apparently limitless authority of the Executive branch of the United States Government. 
He saw his nation using deceit to hide murder. He believed he had the power to make it stop. To do so, he 
realized, would be to sacritice his career, to jeopardize his freedom, to risk condemnation as a traitor. 

Yet he acted. 

One might suspect that such action would have brought Ellsberg a form of contentment, One might ex- 
pect to find him at peace with himself{—secure in his belief that he had risked as much yone to end the 
war. But Daniel Ellsberg is a complicated, confusing man who seems almost incapable of satisfaction. Rather 
than bringing him fulfillment, his act seemed to stir within him new drives, new furies, new imperatives. 

Ellsberg saw his act as a first, dramatic step toward the essential restructuring of America. A beginning, 
to which others would respond. But what if there were no response? What if, instead of a beginning, his act 
were an end? The end of an era of dissent. The loudest, most desperate but final outcry against the system. 
What if the tide, instead of rising with Ellsberg at its crest, were actually moving to its ebb? Where was his 
place in history then? What, then, did his act of heroism mean? 

As he discovered, after the first wild furry of excitement, that there was no rush to follow in his wa 
Daniel Ellsberg, a hcro—both in his own mind and by objective defir 
across the country for some answers. 


terms of scope, the personal risk i 


n— embarked last fall upon a search 


The apartment in which Daniel and Patricia Ellsberg live when they are in New York overlooks the Ea 
River at Sutton Place. As it is a corner apartment, there also is a view south of Lower Manhattan. It 
dithcult to imagine a New York rtment more attractively, or expensively, situated. 

The window sills on the East River side are so long and so wide that one could—if one had a nice, soft 
cushion to lie down on—recline quite comfortably upon them. A pleasant way to pass the morning— gazing 
down lazily at the river, slowly sipping a second cup of collee, letting vivid morning sunlight warm one's skin. 

Раиса Ellsberg has such a cushion. “That's where I take telephone calls,” she says, smiling softly. 
“They're so awful otherwise.” 

There is a feline quality about her. And she is something of an heiress. The Marx toy fortune. Unhap- 
pily, however, her father, who over the years has enjoyed his relationships with J. Edgar Hoover, John Mitch- 
ell and Richard Nixon, has abruptly cut off her allowance. Thus Daniel Ellsberg must seek contributions to 
his defense fund from any number of people who would have trouble even paying his rent. 

Рапісіа leaves the apartment. Her husband is expecte 
going to be late. She will go before him, 
the glory. They've been r 
lady of the movement. 

Daniel Ellsberg bursts from the bedroom. He is wiping shaving cream from his ear, tying his necktie, 
dialing a telephone, stepping into his shoes, answering a telephone, gulping down tea, shuffling through 
papers, answering another telephone, brushing his hair and cursing himself desperately for being Late. 

The morning has brought uncommon distress. Ellsberg's 15: -old son by his first marriage was 


a luncheon at noon and it's obvious he's 
bask a bit in 


mingle with the audience, re 
ried less than а у 


sure the organizer 
and a half, and now she finds herself 


97 


PLAYBOY 


98 


awakened at seven A.M. by FBI agents in 
Los Angeles and told he must testify be- 
fore a grand jury at nine. There is ten- 
sion, acrimony, bitterness. The FBI had 
promised not to bother Ellsberg's children 
(he also has a 13-ycarold daughter) if 
is first wife would sign a certain affidavit. 
complicated, but Ellsberg seems to 
ne her lawyer, the same lawyer who 
represented her in the divorce, for what 
has happened this morning with his son. 

He rummages more frantically through 
papers, talks more heatedly оп the 
phone. He is already half an hour late 
d the crosstown cab ride has not even 
begun. 

He races out the door of the apart- 
ment. Slaps the elevator button. Realiz 
he's forgotten important papers. Races 
back to the door of the apartment. Real- 
izes he's locked himself out, forgotten 
his key. 

“Have you ever been married?!” he 
asks. “Have you ever been divorced?!" 
He turns away, muttering expletives 
about his ex-wife's attorney. “Asshole! 
His fists are clenched and trembling with 
rage. 

"he elevator operator wears a u 
and white gloves. He presses a button in 
side the car to alert the doorman to turn. 
on the awning light that will summon a 
xi to take Dr. Ellsberg to his address 
before the Second Tuesday luncheon of 
the New Democratic Coalition. 

His reception at the luncheon that 

day was typical of the way Ellsberg was 
received throughout the fail, as, driven 
by a moral force of immense power, 
he sped up and down the Boston- 
Washington corridor like a Metroliner; 
challenging his audiences everywhere to 
sk new and harder questions of them. 
selves and their society, to take risks, to 
make sacrifices; indeed, to pledge their 
lives to what had become, for him, the 
timate crusade. 
“Noblest form of patriotism . . . a very 
great American. . . 7 A rich, full intro- 
duction and then, hesitantly, almost shy- 
Ellsberg stepped to the microphone, 
as the applause, strong from the start, 
swelled to tidal-wave proportions and 
then exploded into ап ovation while 
300 of the most chic, influential liberals 
New York тозе spontancously to pay 
n tribute. 

Tt had been almost six months since 
he had released the Pentagon papers to 
the press. No опе, of course, not even 
his wife, had read them: but no matter. 
They were there now. Out. Their secrets 
exposed. And they were of the most 
sational importance —The New York 
Times had made that clear. Forever alter, 
because of them, one could mistrust, 
€ his Government, without the 


form 


Instantly, Ellsberg became a hero. He 
was not given any choice. His side, the 


side of ii 


elligence, of compassion, the 
side that had been right about the war, 
was simply too hero starved to let him 
pass. The other side was positively stink 
ing with heroes—Spiro Agnew, Bob 
Hope, Billy Graham, John Waync— 
even George Wallace, if your taste ran 
in that direction. But the movement— 
ah, the movement, at the moment, was 
strapped. The Berrigans, yes, but they 
were, perhaps, a wee bit too . . . mystical? 
Besides, they were in prison and not 
ailable to accept awards. Oh, Dr. Spock, 

Baez, Angela Davis, et aL, but they 
, too irate or, like 


J 


were either too famili: 
Eugene McCarthy, simply tired of their 


roles 

Suddenly: berg. Who had per 
formed that single, spectacular, history- 
shattering act. And, wonder of wonders, 
who turned out to be, in person, an 
articulate and charming intellectual. 


E 


With such long fingers, and such curly 
hair, and those eyes that burned with 
that terrible intensity. . . . 

‘The night alter the talk in New York, 
Ellsberg spoke at MIT, where science, 
the Government and secrecy have long 
been inextricably linked. He received а 


m, and in hi 
was suggested that he be given the No- 
bel Prize for Peace. 

Removing his jacket, rolling up 
sleeves, Ellsberg spoke softly but relent 
lessly for almost an hour. “Distrust 
authority,” he said, as his wife looked on 
with adoring eyes 
dent, whoever he 
Even in America 

He spoke, with a fecling that ap- 
proached reverence, of Rosa Parks, the 
lady who had refused to move to the 
back of the bus in. Montgomery, Ala 
bama, in 1955, and thus, he said, рге 
cipitated the civil rights movement in 
America. He compared the violence, ly 

g and secrecy that surrounded United 
States! involvement in Vietnam with the 
violence, lying and secrecy inherent in 
the administration of American prisons. 
There were frequent, passionate refer 
ences to Attica. He was trying to tie it 
all together, make his audience share 1 
own perspective of himself, his act, his 
place in history. "We must go beyond 
Vietnam and the Pentagon papers. We 

ced to know more about the roots of 


"Distrust the Presi 
Power does corrupt. 


resistance and rebellion in this coun- 
try. We must learn alternate ways of 
behavior.” 


Surrender your topsecret. clearances, 
he told the MIT faculty in thc crowd; 
sever your tics to NASA, Rand, the 
Department of Defense. They are the 
enemy. Their hierarchies and their aims 
must be resisted. A new America must 
be built—an America without secrecy, 
where the people trust the Government 
nd, more importantly, the Government 
trusts the people. 


He might have been Bob Dylan, the 
way they mobbed him at the end. 
There was a newspaper cditors con. 
nüon in Philadelphia, a Federal em- 
ployces’ dinner in Washington, the trial 
of a draft resister in Providence, a 20th- 
reunion weekend at Harvard, an cve- 
ng with Vietnam veterans in New 
York; more newspaper editors in New- 
Rhode Island, hurried lunches. 

irplanes, hugs of greeting [ar 
into the night . . . the race across au- 
tumn continued. 

Eventually, the impression formed 
that part of what making Ellsberg 
run was the terrifying notion that, for 
all the notoriety, even glory, it had 
brought him, his exposure of the Pent 
gon papers had been futile. "Wouldn't 
you go to jail to end this war?” He 
asked the question of audience after 
audience, but increasingly, one felt, it 
seemed irrelevant, Publication of the 
Pentagon papers had not ended the war. 
There was, in fact. no evidence, no hint 
that their accessibility would shorten it 
һу even ап hour. Indeed, what seemed 
to pursue Ellsberg down all the autumn 
days was the icy suspicion that it had 
not made any difference. The nation 
would continue as before. The crowning 
act of his life had produced the sound 
of one hand clapping. 

In the din of each ova 
to find reafhrmation of 
his act. 


on, he seemed 
the value of 


The Ellsbergs were going 10 California 
much The question 
was where they were going to California 
from. It was 3:30 P.M. in Midtown Man 
hattan, “You can meet us at the airport," 
Patricia on the telephone. “Either 
Newark at five or Kennedy at six 

It turned out to be Kennedy at six. 
Ellsberg was waiting at the gate with a 
justpurchased Judy Collins songbook 
under his arm. He was half an hour 
early for the plane, which made him 
nervous. He also was angry about 
profile of himself that had just appeared 
in Esquire. He was in no mood for 
conversation on the flight. He watched 
The Andromeda Strain, which he said 
he enjoyed. 


was certain. 


As he checked into the Ambassador 
Hotel, however, his spirits suddenly lift 
ks 


ed. “I feel like having a couple of dri 
tonight. Why don't we meet at th 
lounge in twenty minutes?" "This was 
unusual. Ellsberg rarely drinks. Patricia 
took a quick step forward. There was a 
moment of subdued conversation, then 
Ellsberg said, “I'm really pretty tired. 
guess we'd better skip that drink. 
"The main purpose of his trip to Ca 
fornia was a peace rally to be held 
the Los Angeles Sports Arena. Ellsberg 
was to be the featured speaker. In 
(continued on page 192) 


= есе 


“Just taking а few home movies with the wife. What are you doing?” 


99 


100 


Y THE SECOND DAY out of Ant 
werp, Morgan had assessed 
the other passengers on the 
small Swedish freighter and 

was able to assure himself that none of 

them held any interest for him. There 
were three or [our married couples of 
assorted ages, two elderly sisters travel- 
ing together, a couple of men, all of 
them quite ordinary, and there was, he 
decided, no need for him to talk or 
listen to any of them beyond exchanging 
es, and that perfectly 


He had just finished six or seven 
months of arduous, unbroken work for 
his newspaper agency, the World Syndi- 
ate, and had been summoned back to 
New York for a new assig t. He was 
1 he had some time coming 
ad he had rooted up this little 
vessel that took at least ten days to make 
the Atlantic crossing. 

Perhaps because he was a newspaper- 
man, the Swedish captain had made 
available to him the good offices of the 
ship's chandler in Antwerp, and Morgan 
had laid in a small supply of Scotch, of 
a brand that usually was much too ex- 
pensive for him but which, from the 
dhandler, was ridiculously cheap. 

He spent the voyage exactly as he 
had planned, eating the splendid food, 
drinking quietly and luxuriously, catch- 
ing up on reading, sunning, dozing in 
deck chairs, swimming in the small can- 
vas pool rigged up on the deck, avi 
the bridge games, shullleboard, open-air 
то! and the nightly after-dinner 
gatherings in the public saloon. It was 
not until the last evening out of Ant- 
werp, when the capt his farewell 
party, that Morgan felt it would be 
unnecessarily rude not to join his travel- 
ing companions. 

After a specially elaborate Swedish 
dinner and much toasting with aquav 
the captain guided everybody into the 
public room. There was more drinking 
and talking and Morgan, very relaxed, 
found himself relating some of his news- 
paper experiences. He was a man in his 
early 30s, engaging enough, and he spoke 
well and held his listeners’ interest. 

As soon as he decently could, he col- 
lected his own bottle of Scotch from 
behind the bar, together with a glass, 
and went onto the deck. The whisky 
was extraordinary and demanded to be 
drunk neat, and Morgan, with profound 
respect, had from the beginning so 
treated il 

He made himself comfortable in a 
deck chair and looked over the rail to 
the эса. It was a lovely even-tempered 
night and there was part of a moon that 
splattered bits and pieces of itself on the 
gentle swells. He told himself again 
what he had realized all that week. 
There was a special quality in ship's life. 
Nothing could match its encapsulating 


effect. He had not, for instance, for d 
bothered to look at the brief news bul- 
lein that was received by radio and 
tacked up each morning. 

He was sipping his Scottish nectar 
and wondering where his next assign- 
ment would take him when he heard 
footsteps on the wooden deck. Не 
looked up to see а woman he һай no- 
ticed casually from time to time, whose 
name, he believed, was Madge some- 
thing, and who was married to an exces- 
sively dour and forbidding man. 

Madge was a woman in her late 20s. 
She was tall and she had a superb body 
Morgan had observed when she ap- 
peared at the pool. She was a handsome 
woman and would have been even more 
so except for the slightly worried expres- 
sion that seemed to be a permanent part 
of her face, a look that had built a small 
dentation between her eyes. She drank 
a great deal, Morgan had noticed, more 
than her husband, and she carried her 
drink impeccably. She had never seemed 
drunk or loud and the hand that flicked 
her cigarette lighter under endless ciga- 
rettes never seemed to waver. But the 
frown never left her face. 

Now, wearing a suit whose lines spoke 
perfect French, with a ruffled blouse 
whose accent was Italian, her shoulder- 
length blonde hair catching the slight 
breeze, she leaned against the rail for 
several minutes, drink in hand, and 
then she walked closer to Morgan and 
asked him if she might join him. He 
told her he would be delighted and he 
half meant it. 

She sat down next to him and took 
out her cigarettes. She offered them to 
him and he refused, and she waved away 
his hand when he reached out for her 
lighter. She inhaled deeply and gazed at 
ater for a little while. 

You're a writer,” she said, still Jook- 


, Morgan noted, was low 
and in control, “A newspaperman.” 
"Isn't that the same thing?” 


“Tve often wanted to talk to а writer 

Morgan sighed inaudibly. He had 
been exposed to that universal phenom- 
enon quite often. Many persons consid- 
ered it almost the same as talking to a 
psychiatrist, cheaper and possibly just as 
useful. He looked toward the open door 
of the saloon. The light from the inside 
slanted on the deck. He could hear the 
sounds of the voices inside, decibels ris- 
ing with the passing drinks. He hoped 
that her husband would miss her and 
that he would come out and take her 
back in. 

She introduced herself. Her name in- 
deed was Madge. She came from Chica- 
go. She drank some of her whisky and 
smoked some of her cigarette and Mor- 
рап was beginning to think that perhaps 


the mate-swapping party 
was her husband's idea . . . 
fiction 

By ELLIOTT ARNOLD 


. . . but it provided several 
surprises for both of them 


DESIGNED BY LEN WILLIS 
PHOTOGRAPHED BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


her desire to confide in a writer was a 
general, casual thing and mot pertinent 
to the moment. She disabused him. 

My husband, she said before too long, 
his name was Ed, and he worked in 
Chicago and we had a pretty nice home 
in one of the suburbs. The marriage was 
pretty damned good, except for one 
thing. 1 found out I couldn't have any 
children. We talked about adoption, but 
somehow we never got round to й. We 
lived a pretty selfish life, 1 guess, and 
we had lots of friends, and after a while 
we forgot about children. 

We'd been married about three years, 
I guess, and one night Ed made love to 
me, marvelous love—he was something 
in that department—and afterward I 
was just lying back with that gorgeous 
afterward feeling, and Ed asked me a 
question I didn't pay too much atten- 
tion to. and then he asked me the ques- 
їп, and what the question was 
was this: Had I ever thought about this 
business of group sexi Wife swapping. 
or, from my point of view, husband 
swapping? 


Shc drank some of her drink. Mor- 
gan's interest now was quickening and 
he hoped that if the husband did 
her and come out looking for her, it 
would not be at least for a little while. 

“What did you say?" he asked. 

Well, I was kind of sleepy and I guess 
I just sort of shook my head and fell 
asleep. The next day, after he went off 
to the office, I did think about it and I 
finally figured it was just a question, you 
know, and that he had not meant it for 
us. I'd heard about that stuff, sure, but I 
wanted no part of it. Part of the reason 
was that Ed gaye me everything I need- 
ed along those lines, and maybe more. 

He didn't bring up the subject again, 
not for a while, anyway; but as it turned 
ош, he had been doing a lot of thinking 
about it and he had worked it out, 1 
guess, that he had picked the wrong 
time to ask me about it that first ume, 
me being about as sexless as a dead clam 
at that moment. Then one night, we did 
a little drinking and talking and we 
started making love right there in the 
living room and it was while we were at 
it, right while we were actually doing it, 
while Ed was doing the things that 
drove me out of my head, that he began 
talking about it again. What he said, 
not missing а trick with me, was that 
maybe we ought to think about it, may- 
be it was something we ought to try, 
that lots of our friends were doing it, I'd 
be surprised to know who, and that it 
seemed to make them happier and make 
their marriages work better, and that if 
husbands and wives really loved each 
other, they would naturally want to do 


everything 10 make each other happier. 
wouldn't they? 

I must say that I didn’t listen to every 
word, my mind along with the rest of 
me being occupied, but I guess there 
was some part of me registering some 
thing, and while it didn't grab me in 
any way, still, with all the sex that was 
boiling up in me, with what he was 
doing to me, anything in that area, 
including talk, didn't just go by. 

“Try to th about it,” he said. "You 
know, others doing it in front of 

She paused again to light a fresh 
cigarette. The freighter chugged along 
almost silently. 

Morgan asked, “How did you react to 
that?” 

“It didn’t revolt me,” she said. 

Ed kept bringing it up. not naggingly, 
you understand, but from time to time, 
usually when I was a little high, when 
we were fooling around, and one day, I 
was sitting on top of him, I remember, 
he asked me if I loved him and I told 
him that was a. pretty silly question, and 
he said if I really loved him, then I 
would want to please him in every way, 
and I said, OK, if that's what he really 
wanted, OK. 

Well, I guess it was about a week 
later, and I'd almost forgotten about it, 
when he told me there was going to be 
опе of those group affairs at the home 
of a couple of our best friends on the 
coming Saturday night. 

I was absolutely floored. “Lucy and 
Wilbur!” 

Ed grinned and nodded. 

“Ed, you've got to be kidding." 

“You see what we've been i 

I still couldn't believe ii 
Snelling a swinger? Good God, he blushes 
if a woman tells a dirty joke. And Lucy 
keeps going around emptying ashtrays, 
even in somebody else's house.” 

Ed laughed and told me of some of 
our other friends who would be there, 
and there were at least three couples we 
knew intimately—not intimately enough, 
it seemed—and I was shocked more with 
each name. I still almost didn't believe it. 

Well, the great night arrived and 
we went to Wilbur and Lucy's place 
and we were greeted by the others as 
though we had just returned from six 
years in Zanzibar. | couldn't exactly 
understand that reception. I do now, of 
course. We were new blood for the little 
group. You see, I learned that after a 
while, group sex with the same people all 
the time—despite all the permutations 
and combinations possible—gets to be a 
kind of group marriage. No new faces. No 
new bodies. We were new both, 


One of the sailors came up from 
the deck below carrying a wrench. 
He opened a 


(continued on page 110) 103 


no 


EA 


SONS 


Willie 


E 
TL 


PLAYBOY 


110 


What did F do that was wrong? 


panel not far from them and started 
tightening something. 

Madge looked at her glass. It was 
empty. Morgan quickly poured some of 
his whisky into the glass. 

“I need soda,” she said. 

“Not h this. Try it straight." He 
turned his head to look at the working 
crewman. How the hell long would he 
be? And the husband had to come out 
any minute now. 

"Hey, this i 
tasting the wi 

“What арена that night? That 
night at Wilbur and Lucy's?” he asked. 

‘The sailor banged the wrench on 
something metal. She turned her head, 
startled. 

“He doesn't speak English,” Morgan 
said. He could have strangled the man. 

What happened that night? Nothing 
happened. Not to me, anyway. Oh, I 
went there. I suppose 1 was sort of 
ready. 1 had a couple of blasts and 
pretty soon everybody stripped and 1 
stripped. Down to my bra and panties. 
Everybody else was coupling off and 
there was nobody who seemed particu- 
larly interested in me and certainly no- 
body I wanted, and it seemed sort of 
silly, you know, to get all the way to 
the buff. 

1 saw Ed go after a friend of ours, a 
woman who was involved in charity af- 
fairs, and she certainly was quite charita- 
ble that night. She was a woman I never 
thought would have interested Ed, 
good-looking but not Ed's type, you 
know, as I knew Ed's type, but she was 
Ed's type at the moment, anyway, and 
she was full of this largess, and pretty 
soon there was my husband banging this 
woman in front of me. 

The room was filled with people 
making it with each other, but all 1 
could see was my husband balling with 
another woman. 

She swallowed more of the whisky. 
“Thisis marvelou: 

“Did it bother you?” Morgan asked. 

“What?” 

“Your husband and this woman. 

“It bothered the hell out of me.” 

‘They were singing now in the saloon, 
The captain was a great believer in 
community singing. Morgan could hear 
his baritone voice booming out, Surely 
Madges husband would miss her now 
and come out looking for her. 


(ga she said after 


On the way home in the car, before 1 
could say anything about his perform- 
ance with the woman of charity, Ed 
started bawling the hell out of me for 
not making the scene with anyone. 1 
told him nobody had asked me, which 
was true. 


(continued from page 103) 


"You didn't send out any vibes,” he 
id. 
"What the hell do you mean by 
thag” 
“You didn't look like you wanted to. 
You looked as though you disapproved.” 
“All right. I didn't want to. 1 watched 
and I thought it was disgusting and I 
didn't want to. Where do we go from 


“1 don't know. Everybody was damned 
disappointed in you. You were like the 
skeleton at the feast." 

“Can I live with that?” 

It turned out in the next couple of 
days, that our friends were more than 
just disappointed. They were sore. 

“They know you disapproved.” Ed 
said one night. 


idn't have to show it." 


"You made them feel guilty. They 
don't want to be made to feel that way. 
Because you have these sexual hang-ups, 
you don't have to go around making 
people feel guilty. You're just too 
damned uptight and you put people 
off.” 

1 had never considered myself to have 
sexual hang-ups nor to be uptight. 1 
thought back to the times Ed and 1 
made love and what we did with each 
other. No holds barred. 

But what he was telling me was that 
the boys who rode in with him on the 
commuter train were sore as boils. He 
had had one of the wives and nobody 
had had me. We hadn't played the 
game. It wasn't cricket. It was like Ed 
had been caught cheating at cards. 

That was the way it was and after a 
little time, Ed started asking me to give 
it another go. It was like his honor had 
been impugned and he had to erase the 
stain, and so, to reinstate my husband in 
the esteem of his friends, 1 agreed to try 
it again, and we did. 

Morgan poured more whisky into her 
glass. “What happened?” 
got laid. That's what happened. 

It was pretty damned awful. No man 
had touched me since Ed and 1 got 
married. He hadn't been the first, you 
know, not by а long shot, but there had 
been nobody since and Td forgotten 
what another man's touch was, and 
when I was reminded, by one of Ed's 
closest friends that night, I didn't like 
it, | didn't like it at all. But I went 
through with it. 1 dosed my eyes and 
tried not to think who the man was on 
top of me nor about the other wallow- 
ing couples. My God, those people made 
it everywhere! On the floor, on the 
couches, on chairs, standing up. Me, 1 


kept trying to pretend it was Ed who 
was doing it to me. 

On the way home, Ed asked me how 
it had been. 

Lousy,” I said. 

"He wasn't good?” 

"] don't know. He might have been 
the world’s greatest stud. 1 wouldn't 
know. I didn't feel anything.” 

He laughed. "I told you, it’s those 
old-fashioned hang-ups.” 

"Whatever he was, he wasn't as good 
as you.” I reached over and touched his 
hand. He'd had himself a fine time that 
evening and for some reason I was feel- 
ing guilty and I didn't want him to be 
angry with me. 

“You've got to get rid of them, those 
hang-ups.” 

“Do I?” 

"Look, what we have, our love, that 
isn’t touched by this at all. You have to 
understand that. It has nothing to do 
with that. That's private. It belongs to 
us, our hearts, our souls. ‘The other thing 
is pure physical pleasure. It’s pleasure 
we can give to each other. It's like going 
g or sailing or something. It’s out- 
side what's іп us. It has nothing at all 
to do with our love for each other ex- 
cept to make that love deeper because 
we're extending our enjoyments. Т! 


A few minutes later, he said, “Old 
Morris wasn’t as good as me, is that 
what you said?” 

“Yes, that’s what J said.” 


"He's supposed to be pretty fair in 
the kip.” 

“He doesn't rate with you, not to 
me.” 


He turned. “You see. It's making our 
marriage better already.” 

What's making our marriage better?” 

“Just this one time and you know 
how much better I am with you. You 
appreciate our own sex even more. Now, 
isn't that benefiting our marriage?" 

“I didn't need anything like this to 
appreciate our sex.” 

"But it has underlined it, 
"Think about it. 

I thought about it. I thought a lot 
about it. It didn't make sense to me and 
yet it was logical, 1 supposed. Maybe it 
did make sense. It scemed to make sense 
to a lot of people, this expanding their 
experiences, as somebody said, people 1 
liked and respected, people who were 
good people, good parents, churchgoers. 
Maybe I was out of step. Maybe 1 did 
have what Ed called a hang-up. Maybe 1 
was too uptight. 

So the next time, I decided I would 
try to enjoy it, really enjoy it. I had a 
couple of stiff martinis before we left 
our house—privately, you understand; I 
didn't want Ed to think I was having to 
brace myself—and when we got there, I 

(continued on page 186) 


right? 


TEZA Ў 
ee 
s. K & 

Lis s үе y € 


& 
S 


Y 


- 


dog trainer sharon johansen 
is now learning the 
tricks of a new trade: acting 


peTs’ 
TEACHER 


WHEN THE PHONE RINGS in her Santa Mon- 
ica apartment and the caller asks Sharon 
Johansen to “come over and see my new 
Doberman,” she doesn’t think it's a crank 
call. Miss Johansen is a dog trainer and 
she constantly gets calls from her pupils’ 
owners. "Someone's always phoning to 
tell me about a ribbon one of my dogs 
has won or a litter she's had. I don't have 
any kind of shop or office where people 
can bring their pets, so I go to them in- 
stead. I usually become friends with the 
owners as well as their йору” explains 
28-year-old Sharon. Her occupation grew 
out of frustration with the conventional 
restrictions of nine-to-fiveism. "I had an 
interesting desk job, too. Right after high 
school, I worked for Pierre Salinger's in 
vestment company. Knowing him was 
great, but I hated being cooped up in an 
office all the time, I also wanted some- 
thing that would give me a chance to be 
my own boss, make my own hours. So I 
took stock of my interests. I've always 
loved animals—at first I considered work 
ing at the L. A. zoo. Then it came to me 
out of nowherc—dog training. I took a 
course to learn how it's done and just 
started out.” She has built her business 
slowly and carefully, relying on word-of- 
mouth advertising to attract new pros. 
pects. “I prefer working that way, so 
when people call, they've already made 
up their minds to have their dogs trained 
and I don't have to sell them on the idea 
Most of them also know what it costs. I 
charge $200 for a full course or $20 an 
hour. I know that sounds like а lot, but 
І don't work every day, so I had to think 
about that when I set my fee.” Since the 
economics of Sharon's business restricts 
her clients to a relatively affluent group 
of dog owners, her house calls are 
made principally in Beverly Hills, Palos 
Verdes and other lush, meticulously gar- 
dened areas of Los Angeles. “That's a 
great part of my job. Гуе spent time in 
some of the most fabulous back yards in 
Los Angeles" Another is the free time 
it gives her to get involved in a new 


GATEFOLO PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALEXAS URBA 


Below: One of Sharon's star pupils is Dog, an old English sheep dog owned by Hugh 
Hefner. At o morning lesson, Sharon leods Dog through a wooded section of the five-acre 
estate thot surrounds Playboy's California Monsion in the Holmby Hills orea of Los Angeles. 


113 


Above: Teocher and student have on eye-to-eye confrontation in the midst of the lesson. Below: Taking а break in her day, Sharon 
sploshes in a man-made waterfall located on another part of the Mansion’s grounds. “Being self-emplayed, | prefer going to people's 
homes to train their dogs rather than hoving them brought to me. At Hef's, that arrangement really has some great side benefits.” 


career—acting. Sharon has thought fancifully of being an 
actress for as long as she can remember, but “I never had 
the nerve to even audition for a part in high school. I'd 
always get as far as the door of the room where the drama 
club was holding tryouts. I'd see them all in there reading 
scripts—and I'd chicken out. So it never occurred to me 
that I'd have the courage to actually go through with it. 
I think starting the dog-training business did it for me. 
I proved to myself that I could do something that wasn’t 
routine and make a living on my own. That gave me con- 
fidence. ГЇЇ need it, because when you're trying to make 
it as an actress, the disappointments can really bring 
you down." So far, Sharon has had little reason for regret 
She's already appeared in а number of television seri 
including The Name of the Game and Sarge, and in a Li'l 
ibner special, in which her conspicuous proportions 
(40-22-37) were well suited for the role of Appassionata 
Von Climax. Now Sharon has just completed shooting her 
first feature film, Your Three Minutes Are Up. “1 play a 
kind of beach girl named Johansen. That's really wild, be- 
cause 1 get to use my own name and I couldn't be more 
of a beach girl in real life. My Santa Monica place is 
just a block away from the ocean and 1 spend all the 
time I can there. Everyone who's seen the first rushes 
says it's a terrific film. Right now I'm testing for a Love, 
American Style part—and a lot of other TV things. It 
just seems like everything's rushing in at once. And I love 
it.” If her career maintains its present pace, Sharon may 
soon find herself with a Beverly Hills back yard of her own. 


Above: Shoron demonstrates for Hefner the results of the first train- 
ing session as Dog offers his paw for a farewell shake. Below: She re- 
tums to her home for an oceanside jog and a workout at the ballet bor. 


Above: On the set of her first feature film, Your Three Minutes Are Up, Sharon chats with one of its male leads, Beau Bridges 
(lefi), then plays a bedroom scene opposite the movie's co-star, Ron Leibman (see On the Scene, page 172). “I'm Ron's girlfriend 
in the film," she explains. Below: That night, Sharon visits friend Richard Harris backstage after his concert at a Los Angeles theater. 


PLAY BOY'S PARTY JOKES 


For a thousand dollars,” asked the jolly quiz- 
master, "who was the first man?” 
“Adam!” gushed the lovely young contestant. 
“Correct! And for two thousand dollars, 
who was the first woman?” 
“Eve!” burbled the girl. 
“Correct again! And now, for four thousand, 
what was the first thing Eve said to Adam?” 
"Gee, that's hard,” said the girl, frowning. 
“Jackpot!” shouted the quizmaster. 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines racial supe- 
riority as a pigment of one's imagination. 


J 


The disinguished-looking gentleman and the 
stunning redhead were seated at a table in a 
plush restaurant. The man appeared preoccu- 
pied about something. Finally, he leaned over 
to her and whispered, "I have to make a 
clean breast of it, darling. Could you possibly 
continue to care for a fellow who has swindled 
his business associate of twenty years out of 
two million’ dollars, and at a time when the 
associate has just learned that his unmarried 
daughter is pregnant, that his son is in prison 
abroad on a drug charge and that his wife has 
an incurable and expensive disease?” 

“Possibly—just possibly,” replied the girl 
languidly, “provided the guy doesn't chicken 
out and make restitution.” 


Perhaps you've heard about the he-man movie 
star who lost quite a bit of his popularity after 
appearing in his first skin flick. His female 
fans discovered that he had a disappointingly 
small part. 


Senator,” asked one of his aides during a 
workingluncheon silence, "what do vou іп 
tend doing about the Abortion Bill?” 

“Shhh, not so loud," gulped the legislator. 
“Phone that quack and tell him ТЇЇ pay it first 
thing next month.” 


A welltraveled friend of ours says that the 
first gay bar in Dublin has now been opened. 
it's called Sodom and Begorra. 


Our Unabashed Dictionary defines wet dream 
as getting а load off your mind. 


Please, honey,” pleaded the young man, “if 
you'll only let me, I'l just put it in a little 
Way." So his date gave in, but temptation 
proved too much for the fellow and he gradu- 
ally went hilt-deep. 

"Ooh," whispered the 
Now put it in all the way!” 

“Absolutely not!” panted the quick-thinking 
youth. "A promise is a promise.” 


|, "that feels nice! 


Can you name a part of the human bod 
asked the biology professor, "whose function is 
a delayed one?" 

"Yes" sighed the coed. "The diaphragm. 
Mine allows me to breathe more easily the 
following morning." 


A wanton young mermaid named Jones 
Elicited undersea moans 

From guys aqualunging 

By saltily tonguing 
Their divers erogenous zones. 


We've heard it rumored that the Vatican is 
freezing flavored holy water and selling the 
product as Popesicles. 


The jet passenger kept patting the stewardess 
оп the fanny every time she passed his seat. 
“Before this goes any further,” she finally said, 
EI t you to know that I'm a Lesbian." 

ine,” he retorted. "How's everything in 


A chap generally considered to be a confirmed 
svinger visited his doctor to complain of impo- 
tence. “You, of all people!" said the astonished 
medical man. "Why, you have a reputation as 
long as my arm." 

“But what good is a reputation,” asked his 
patient plaintively, "if it won't stand up?" 


The streetwalker got into a taxi, hiked up her 
skirt, winked invitingly at the driver and asked, 
"How about taking the fare out in trade?" 

“Lady,” whined the cabby after a lingering 
look, "haven't ya got anything smaller?” 


Once a great tournament was held in feudal 
Japan to select the best samurai swordsman. 
After exhaustive eliminations, three finalists re- 
mained. Each was given a small box with a fly 
in it. The first warrior released his fly and 
then divided it cleanly in half in flight. The 
second was even more skillful, slicing his fly 
into quarters with two lightninglike strokes of 
his keen blade. Then came the third samurai's 
turn, He released his fly and swung his sword, 
but the fly kept on flying "Ah," said the 
judge, "your fly has escaped unharmed.” 

"He still flies.” countered the proud war- 
rior, “but he will no longer reproduce.” 


Heard a funny one lately? Send it on a post- 
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 
Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 
Ill. 60611. $50 will be paid to the contributor 
whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned. 


PLAYBOY 


122 


Crameleow onines pom pore) 


by adapting the bazaar in his background 
to the boutique. He said, “Welcome, 
welcome," smiled openly, broadly, and 
cradled backs in his arms. He said, “This 
item—because I like you very much, 
because you are my friend—l can sell 
to you cheaply.” He looked around cau- 
tiously for Drexson, though the “cheaply” 
was. of course, Drexson's original price; 
he spoke with a strong accent that people 
and was, though it 
him to do so, since 
Arabic or Spanish or even French was 
more natural to him. "But what do Ameri- 
cans know about accents?” He looked 
downcast, homeless, exilic when customers 
would not buy. "You know, sir, this kind 
ot shirt—a shirt of madras material—is 
impossible to purchase in Isracl, where I 
«т from, because India docs not trade 
with our country. It is a rarity. It is high- 
ly valued. Can you imagine what we 
give to have the opportunity to 
clothes like th Bebert had dark 
curly and skin the color of walnuts 
and lage black eyes; he had the kind of 
looks that often make privilege guilty. 

Once a man said, "But India trad: 
with Israel.” "Ihe man was wearing а 
expensive suit and he carried a bri 
so Bebert did not debate. 

"Oh, yes, a recent development,” he 
answered instead. “But it does not mat- 
ter very much, because few people in 
our nation, with the problems that you 
know we have with our neighbors, сап 
afford what is imported, especially from 
counties like India that make luxuries 
Of course, if you are talking about the 
leaders, our leaders, like Golda and 
Eban—who are, you know, really West- 
erners—or even Moshe Dayan, well, then 
of course, they can afford cottons and 
silks. They come to America for dinners 

‚. and speeches . . . and applause, I 
come here to work, because there is 
none at home." 

The man said, "Lm sorry, I didn't 
realize. You know, the picture we get from 
here is . . . ah, this looks nice. . . .” He 
took out his credit card, blushed for 
owning it, purchased, said, “I hope that 
conditions over there. . . .” Bebert looked 
him in the eye. “Well, you know . . - 1 


E 


just hope. . . .” He turned, saying “hop. 
and left. 

Drexson bragged about Beber. He 
talked about "my Israeli assistant, my 


crack sabra salesman, my warrior of the 
menswear campaign." And this publici- 
ty. combined with the actual attraction 
shot business up 100 percent. Old men 
and women—especially people who had 
been born in Europe—came to Drex- 
son's Ltd. to hear a young man, a beau- 
ful dark curly-haired young man (livi 
in Isracl must give you a hı 
speak Hebrew naturally; speak Hebrew 


understanding every word, kina hora! 
Like second nature, they realized it was 
first nature, though of course it wasn't; 
somehow, second nature sounded even 
better. 

A good many other people who were 
not so old, people who had jobs and 
families and other responsibilities, came 
10 discuss topics like prospective vac: 
tions in Israel, the danger, the water, 
the food, the sights and select ріш 
words to know. They also came to sec 
just what an Israeli looked like and to 
ask, “Just what is a kibbutz like?" and, 
“Ha, ha, have enough trees been plant 
ed yet?” To the last two questions Be- 
bert had no answers, since, one, he had 
never been on a kibbutz—"That is for 
those white socialists who think so much 
of themselves” (this went unsaid)—and 
two, what is so funny about trees? 

Bebert would say Bocher tov, and 
they would whisper among themselves, 
“That's He Ч good 

i they would answer, 
“Bocher tov, Beber," or "Shalom, Be- 
bert.” Since they did not speak Hebrew, 
Bebert became very popular saying 
Bocher tov, Shalom, Erev tov (which is 
Good evening), Mah shlom cha? and 
Mah shlom mea? (which are How are 
you?, masculine, and How are you?, fem- 
inine). He described the Wailing Wall, 
the praying there, the Sabbath, when 
the entire nation closes down to observe 
it, the reunions of families separated 
during the war, of which he knew noth 

ng but made up a lot: “You see them 

on the streets coming together; it is very 
beautiful" the victories—of course the 
victories: “We beat them good!"—over 
the latest enemy, and said, "No, no- 
where is as dangerous as Central Park.” 

M. people left Drexson's Ltd, with 
le feclings—satisfaction, gratifica- 
warmth, sadness, happiness, pride, 
thankfulness and a measure of religion 


e he 


And, being considerate, they also came 


away with tie tacks, culf links, belts, 
something: and frequently large-money 
items, too. “Bebert gets commission,” they 
said. It added up. 

Bebert found himself a пісе apart 
ment on the Upper East Side and 
dressed in the colorful, expensive cot- 
tons and silks that Drexson allowed him 
to have—not at employees’ discount but 
(keep this under your hat) free. He 
айса along First, Second, Third, 
Park, Fifth in a 
ig shoulders—the 
sensationalist proof of 
not just existence but manhood—with 
men who would not yield and who were 
mot too stocky or tall. Bebert cursed 
those whose shoulders clobbered his; in 


Arabic he conjured rocks that would 
descend from heaven to crush the tombs 
of the mothers of these men; he prayed 
that camels might perform the necessary 
biological functions on the graves of 
their fathers. He hung out, loitered. 
ogled smart women 
fashion. which meant touching, 
ing, communicating secret evil 1 
supposed to be sex, which mi 
worked if it had stopped there, but 
continued always to blow the approach 
by offering to sell something—anything, 
which he did not have, anyway—and 
which showed, as one pretty girl. put it, 
“that his scene was in his pockets” and 
basically, therefore, noninteractive and 
iy. This happened around all th 
above-mentioned smart locations. 

Bebert attempted to pick up girls in 
Happy's, a swinging singles bar, but was 
hopeless. 

"Excuse me, beautiful girl" he said 
with a grin so broad it was difficult for 
his face to handle, a grin that was hun- 
gry and toothy and monstrous. "Excuse 
me. but would you be interested in 
buying some shit?" 

"Huh? . . . Oh, flake off." 

"Perhaps you do not understand. Shit 
is not... uh... shit is hashish.” 

“Shit is you. Flake off!” 

“You are very beautiful, incredibly 
beautiful" Bebert, never daunted by 
nos, went on. “Your skin is like the sofi 
sands that coat my native Holy Land.” 

“Oh, God,” said the girl, which, for 
some reason, to Bebert, was sufhcient 

ivitation to tickle her neck. 

"Watch the hands, Muhammad.” 

"Oh ... not Muhammad. Bebert! 1 
am Jew, not Arab. 1 am going to study 
physics.” He pronounced physics like it 
was a password. 

"Watch the hands, Beeper.” 

Bebert.” That monstrous grin again. 
“I hate Arabs." 

"Wonderful. Now will you l 

“The Arabs—ah, 1 can tell you abo 
Arabs—they are not to be trusted, 
bert said. "You cannot befri 
Arab. 1 know! You can feed th 
them shelter, take them to your 
nd still, one day, one day, 
of the desert, they will turn 


Jafla-Casablanca-Fes 
leer 


on you 
Would you like to see the scar a man 
named Muhammad left on me? ] will 


have to open my sh 
that corner.” 
Flake off, Beeper. My name's Fatima." 
Beber's laugh was louder than the 
cool jazz music being played, and he 
received at least a dozen stares He 
laughed again, found the cozy atmos 
phere speared by eyes evil toward hi 
backed off the bar stool, made muscles 
in his fo 


t. We could go into 


rms, biceps, pecs—for some 
unexplainable reason, beneath 
his Drexson sports coat they were noi 


(continued on page 178) 


THE PRESIDENT FLAGELLATES FROGS 


humor By CALVIN TRILLIN of course, we all know that . . . but don’t you think its 
really odd about the secretary of defense and his curtously stuffed teddy bear? 


AFTER HOURS of writing and rewriting, I typed the 
final drafts of the first two rumors on separate three- 
by-five index cards and handed them proudly to my 
wife, Wanda Sue, for her reaction. 


FOR THE PRESIDENT: The President derives sexual 
pleasure from the flagellation of frogs, using tiny whips 
purchased in the North Beach section of San Francisco 
by special agents of the Secret Service. 

FOR THE PRESIDENT'S WIFE: The President's wife 
has a small Japanese gentleman living in her hairdo. 


“But it isn't true!” Wanda Sue said. 

“Of course it isn't true, dear,” I said, patiently. "It's 
all for my dissertation.” I was, at that time, a fourth- 
year graduate student in the School of Communication 
Arts, University of California at Canoga Park, and my 
plan was simply to invent two rumors and measure 


what we called their nonmedia verbal distribution. 

"But you just can't go around saying things like 
that," Wanda Sue insisted. “That’s the filthiest thing 
1 ever heard of." 

“I didn't say there was anything between the Presi- 
dent's wife and the small Japanese gentleman,” Y said. 
“He just lives there, quietly." 

“Not that one," she said. “The other one. What a 
disgusting thing to say about the President." 

“You mean you don't believe it,” I said. 

“Well, of course I don’t believe it,” Wanda Sue said. 
“Nobody would ever believe anything like that about 
the President of the United States. It's ridiculous. I 
mean, how would he explain having all those frogs 
around? Where would he keep them?” 

“He keeps them in the basement,” I said, improvis- 
ing quickly. “Where Calvin (continued on page 132) 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY DDN AZUMA 


spaghetti is only the launching pad—it the sauce that puts you in orbit 


Sood by george bradshaw х тн окшхлку way, you sit down 


and eat a dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and think nothing of it. 
But the fact is, the dish is the culmination of hundreds of years of invention, 
exploration and common sense; indeed, it is a marriage of the products 
of two hemi: 

It is legend—and it will serve—that Marco Polo, when he returned 
from the court of the great khan in China at the end of the 13th Century, 
brought with him, among other treasures, noodles, That is, the basic recipe 
for the paste—pasta—that was to become the glory of the Italian kitchen. 

‘There were then no tomatoes in Italy. Nor in all of Europe, for that 
matter: no tomatoes, no chocolate, no vanilla, no corn, no potatoes— 
sweet or white—almost no beans, no turkeys. Italians had to wait a good 
300 years—until that great wave of Spanish and Portuguese explorers 
brought back to Europe the foods and flavors of the New World—bclore 
they could enjoy a simple tomato sauce. 

"They have never tired of it. Now, 400 years later, tomatoes are the most 
common ingredient in a spaghetti sauce—sometimes to the point where 
one longs for another favor. 

In Italy, everyone eats some form of pasta at least once a day and, in 
consequence, Italians have devised a staggering number of sauces—from A 
10 Z, literally, anchovies to zucchini. Variety is a necessity. 

One of the great virtues of a spaghetti dinner is its ease. Almost without 
exception, the sauce can be made ahead—even long ahead and frozen. As 
for the spaghetti itself, anyone who can stay awake can boil spaghetti 

And you need very little else, Salad —which also can be made ahead— 
the classic hot crusty bread, some cheese and fruit to finish with and a 
bottle of good red wine. 

If you have done your homework, spaghetti makes a meal that can be 
got on the table in ten minutes flat. 

Here follows a variety of sauce recipes, some classic, some may be 
surprises. None should present the slightest difficulty in preparation. But 
first, a brief run-through on preparing the object of the sauces’ affection. 
In this scientific age, cooking spaghetti is still not a scientific matter. You 
must always watch and test. In general, however, spaghetti should be 
cooked in an excessive amount of lightly salted boiling water. American 


pasta plu; 


brands take about eight minutes, but you should always fish out a strand 
and bite it to sce if it is to your liking. (Should you find spaghetti made in 
Italy, you will discover it can take as long as 18 minutes to cook.) 

When the spaghetti is done, pour it into a colander to drain, then swirl 
a good lump of butter—at least two tablespoons—in the hot pot in which 
it was cooked. Return the hot spaghetti to the pot and, with a couple of 
forks, toss it until it's coated with the melted butter. If you wish to serve 
the spagherti from a bowl, be sure that it, too, is very hot. 

Incidentally, one of the best ways to eat spaghetti, especially if you are 
not having it as a main dish, is simply to add (continued on page 182) 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY BILL ARSENAULT 


125 


126 


dash it, fellows, it would 
appear that jovial tom, 
sturdy sam and stalwart 
dick are in for a peck of 
trouble at the hands of 
ncer-do-well dan baxter 
and his band of toadies 


пуопе who has been with- 

in range of a television 

set. a radio or a news- 

paper over the past 

ten years obviously 

knows what's been happening 
on the nation's college cam- 
puses. The new sexual free- 
dom, the racial turmoil, the 


antiwar demonstrations. the 
student confrontations with 
police and National Guards- 
men. In short, the whole vio- 
lent spectrum that exploded 
in the Sixties and is still sput- 
tering in the Seventies. 

1 had always thought that 
І was as aware of the new 


college scene as anyone 
However, it wasn't until I 
visited the campus of a large 
Western university recently 
(my first trip, I must con- 
fess, to a college in some 
years) that the full impact 
of the phenomenon really 
hit home. From the bizarre 


group living arrangements to 
the myriad campus booths 
collecting money to fight 
pollution and free Н. Rap 
Brown, to the graphic no- 
holdsbaried posters such as 
WAR 15 BULISHIT and CURB 
THE POPULATION GROWTH, USE 
A conpon, I was frankly 


ILLUSTRATION BY CHARLES E. WHITE Ш 


stunned and not a little 
awed by the incredible 
transformation that had tak- 
en place in such a relatively 
short period of time. 

While I am, for the most 
part, in sympathy with any 
cause to advance individual 
freedom, particularly among 


the country’s youth, I can't 
help feeling a little sad. 
n, something sweet 
and innocent from my rev- 
eries of the past has been 
rocked to its very foundation. 

As a child of those now- 
storied Thirties, my whole 
concept of college and cam- 


pus life was nurtured by 
boys’ books. And of all ihe 
books on the subject, one 
group towered mightily over 
the rest—the Rover Boys se 
ries. Ah, those three clean 
cut, intrepid Rovers. Sired 
by the prolific Arthur М. 


Winfield in the 1890s, they 127 


PLAYBOY 


128 


hers with: 


not only thrilled us and our f 
adventur les but they 
begat four manly. wide-awake sons who 
had adventures of their own in a second 
Rover Boys series. 

But getting back to the Rovers péres, 
it was through their pulse-pounding 
experiences in school, circa 1900, that 
we leamed all we had to know about 
that it was a place of warm cama- 
. school spirit, spine-freezing foot- 
ball games, blackhearted but strangely 
appealing villains, a little book cracking 
and a lor of cheering and singing. It was 
freshmen always wore beanies, 
profs were pedagogic, absent- 
minded and lovable and where coeds 
were beautiful and pure. 

| can't deny that when I entered 
college myself in the Forties, part of my 
dream was shattered. For one thing, 
there were no beanies and, for another, 
there was а rumor that a girl at Sigma 
Kappa kissed with her mouth open. But 
aside from that, the image pretty much 
held fast. Who would dream that we 
ld go from the Forties into the 
ties (as we all know, there were no 


special cor 
from memor 
wonderful, happy 
thar I had as а boy. There were gi 
in the ivy-covered earth in those days 
nd their names were Dick, Tom and 
Sam Rover, And one of their typical ad- 
ventures usually went something like thi 

The makeshift flying craft hovered 
over the campus of Brill College, and 
then began to make its slow descent 
Aboard the strange vehicle, barely v 
ble to the naked eye, were three figures. 

From the campus buildings гап stu- 
dents to witness the sight. 

“Jumping lobsters!” shouted а sopho- 
more. “What is going on here?" 

“By crickey!” said a junior. “Ther 
are three lads aboard that odd craft. 1 
wonder who they can be." 
osh all hemlock!” cried a senior 
ily. "I do fancy it’s the Rover Boys 
mpus for the fall semester 
way to travel,” said 


indeed,” vouchsafed a jeal- 
vt they come by 


ad carriage, like the rest 


ous freshm 


train or hor 


"They are so full of grit and push,” 
id the freshman grudgingly. “I wish I 
were like them. But | never had a 
chance. 

“Boys like the Rovers make their own. 
chances,” said the junior simply. Where- 
upon the others nodded their heads re- 
spectlully and awfull 

The craft came close to the ground, 


and th 
touched down on campus. One at a time, 
the Rovers be nb out. 

"Look," sid a student. 
Dick, the eldest Rover.” 

"Hello, college chums.” said. Dick, his 
noble, well-chiseled features gleaming in 
the autumn sunlight. “It is indeed grand 
to be back on campus with all you keen 
fellows again.” 

“And look,” said another. “There is 
Tom, the fun-loving Rover. 

Another manly lad stepped out 
wayed cheerily. 

“Bless me,” said а dudish chap, who 
was new on campus, “who is the third 


with a few light bumps, it 


1 to ci 


There is 


and 


lad?" 
Humph," said the senior impat 
“That is the youngest brother, st 


n, as any fool can plainly see. 

Sam stepped out and also waved at the 
throng. Then the three brothers were 
embraced manlily by the others. 

"Say. Rovers.” said ihe sophomore, 
"you have certainly chosen a bizarre way 
10 arrive on campus. What do you call 
that strange veliicle2" 

"Anything except late for dinner, 
said the fun-loving Tom, with a twinkle 
in his mischievous eyes, and there was a 
merry laugh all around. As he had done 
so many times in the past, irrepressible 

a with his 


chum: said Dick 
s just a little something 
we pieced together on a rainy summer 
afternoon at home. We haven't decided 
yet what to call 

“I have it,” said sturdy Sam. 
about calling it an aeroplane?” 

“Bully!” said Tom. 

And somehow the name stuck. 

“Well, well" said a cheery voice. 

"What a pleasure it is to see you red- 
blooded lads back again with us for the 
new semester.” 

"Oi sure, an’ that it is" echoed а 
voice with a friendly Irish brogue. 

Our three heroes turned and standing 
before them, their faces beaming, were 
two familiar figures. 

“Why, it is Dean Hobart Brill,” sai 
Dick, overcome with emotion. “The be- 
loved founder and president of this, the 
finest institution of learn! 
tire Middle West." 

"And his trusted campus lawenforce- 
ment officer, jolly Patrolman O'Brien! 
shouted Tom. 

"Outside of our Uncle Randolph and 
Aunt Martha back at Valley Brook 
Farm, there are no two people dearer to 
us on the face of the earth,” ejaculated 
sturdy Sam reverently. 

“Hurrah for Dean Brill and Ofhcer 
O'Brien!" shouted the Rovers and their 
fellow students, removing their caps 
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” 

Whereupon the lads sing For He's a 
Jolly Good Mentor! Followed by What's 


How 


g in the er 


the Matter with O'Brien? He's All Right! 
This followed by three more cheers, а 
locomotive and a tiger. 

When the cheers ended, Dean Brill 
nd Patrolman O'Brien were lifted onto 
the shoulders of Dick and Tom and 
carried to the dining hall for a grand 
campus ice-weam-and-cake festival ıl 


would be remembered long after that 


esteemed institution had turned to dust. 

Several hours later, the boys headed 
for their dormitory, still tingling from 
all the jollification. 

“Brill College is the cream," said Sam. 

"It most assuredly is,” agreed Dick. 

“Boiled umbrellas,” said Tom, with a 
broad grin, "but those were mighty tasty. 
victuals. 

And defenseless once again before the 
unrestrained humor of the fun-loving 
Rover, Dick and Sam laughed in spite of 
themselves. 

"Yes," said Dick, "it is wonderful to 
be back at Brill, and I am certain that 
we shall have nothing but bully times 
again unless. . . .” 

He paused ominously. 

"Unless what?" inquired sturdy Sam. 

“Surely, Dick," said Tom, “you do not 
refer to our enemies. 

"But no," said Sam. “They are all i 
the lockup. with the exception of Dan 
Baxter, who, after the severe thrashing 
we administered to him, has vowed to 
take the straight-and-narrow path.” 
said suppose you are 
is nothing to worry 
And now on to a new semester 
with lots of studying and good clean 
campus fun and horseplay. 

And so it was with light steps and full 
hearts that the boys made their way 
across the campus, when suddenly from 
out of the darkness a brick came hur- 
ding through the air. As it flew, deadly 
and true, toward poor Dick's head to 
perhaps kill him, or at the very least 
maim him for lile, let us pause for a 
moment in our story 

То my older readers, the lads already 
mentioned will need no introduction 
For the benefit of others, let me state 
that the Rovers were three typical, man- 
ly, wide-awake lads who, when mot at- 
tending school, lived with their Uncle 
Randolph and Aunt Martha on a ples 
ant farm in Upstate New York. In addi 
tion to working hard, playing hard and 
going off on exciting world-wide adw 
tures, they also found time to devote to 
three of the dearest, sweetest girls in the 
whole world. Dick was “stuck on,” as the 
saying goes, Miss Dora Stanhope, or 
“friend Dora," as she was known to 
him intimately, while Tom and Sam re- 
garded Dora's cousins, the Misses Nellie 
d Grace Laning, with extreme fond- 
ness. In my last book, The Rover Boys 
on Vacation, we learned how the boys 
fished in Maine, hunted in Michi; 

(continued on page 226) 


s- 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


Built over a steel frame is the sleek bullet-shoped Bellytank. 


even if they don't vun, 
contemporary artist 

don bonham's cycles and 
cars are the best-built 
machines on the market 


Bonhom, top, stroddles his Easy Rider Jowa Hog. On its metol- 
flake sect, above, the gos cop is conceoled between the breasts. 


YOU сош HAUL your wheels into the shop for customizing, but 


we doubt if you'd get anything to beat Don Bonham's beauti 


fully configured vehicles. Of course, his don't have motors, but 
who cares? With fiberglass female bodies and old hotrod and 
cycle parts, the machines are “reflections of American culture, 
says Bonham, who calls himself a “20th Century American land- 
scape artist.” “Fhe inspiration lor them,” he says, "came from 
watching men and machines—how guys polish them, work on 
them, ride them.” The artist, who now lives in Canada, will show 
the vehicles at Chicago's Michael Wyman Gallery this month. 
And for $3500, you could ride—or at least carry—one home 


For the streamlined construction 
of his racing bike Moggie-cycle, 
above, Bonham used Honda 
and Triumph parts. The bright 
seat rest covering 

the feet is also fiberglass. 


To form the body of а cycle, 
Bonham first smooths Vase! 
over his model—"a гео! 
turn-on’’—ond covers the pubic 
areo with Saran Wrap. Next 
he applies a light ploster 

ШЕ lets it dry for 

about 20 minutes and 

lifts it off. Then he fills 

the cast with fiberglass, 

which he loter airbrushes 

to ochieve flesh tones. 


The stripped-down Texas Snow- 
mobile, above, says Bonham, 
"is completely bastardized. | 
don't know what cycle parts | 
used. And there’s nothing ta 
grob onto—except her breasts.” 


PLAYBOY 


PRESIDENT FLAGELLATES FROGS (continued тот page 123) 


Coolidge had that secret little film sm. 
for shooting stag movies of his Cabinet 

"Did Calvin Coolidge make stag 
movies?” she said, suddenly sounding 
interested. 

"Odd that you believe that one so 
casily,” I said, beginning to make а few 
notes. "You scem to be peculiarly sensi- 
tive to the [rog participation, for some 
reason.” 

She gave me а ferocious look and 
stomped out of the room. 


In fact, the one potential weakness of 
the project that had occurred to me was 
that 


the rumor about the President 
ht be too easily believed. It had 
become so routine to speculate about 
the sex life of whichever President was 
in offic—to the point of explaining 
foreign policy by a President's supposed 
exhibitionism or reported impotence— 
that a rumor had to be fairly bizarre 
just to capture anybody's attention. Non- 
media verbal distribution couldn't be 
measured if people thought a rumor 
wasn't even worth mentioning. 1 decided 
to concoct corollary rumors for those who 
found the original rumors too common- 
place to be noticed. 

COROLLARY FOR THE PRESIDENT: One 
day, the President's daughter saw a frog 
in the White House, hopping around 
in the Rose Garden. The President's 
daughter was led to believe that if she 
kissed ihe jrog, the frog would turn 
into a prince who was also a member of 
the New York Stock Exchange. She de- 
cided to give it а try, but as she was 
about to kiss the frog, the President 
burst through the French doors that 
lead into the Rose Garden from the 
great oval office and, using the com 
manding voice he often used to order 
air strikes, said, “Do not kiss that frog." 

“But Daddy,” the President's daughter 
replied. “If I kiss the frog, he will be- 
come a prince who is also a member of 
the New York Stock Exchange. Just 
what I've been looking for.” 

“Don't kiss the frog,” the President 
repeated. 

“If it's waris you're worried about, 
they're from toads, nol frogs,” the Presi- 
dent's daughter said. 

“1 don’t want the frog changed from a 
frog,” the President said. "Let's leave it 
at that” 

“But why, Daddy?" the President's 
daughter asked. “Turning a frog into an 
aristocrat who is doing well on Wall 
Street is truc to everything you've always 
belicued in.” 

“A President sometimes bases his deci- 
sions on information that is not avail- 
able to others,” the President said. 

“You mean the cables, Daddy?” the 


132 President's daughter said. “But it just 


couldn't say anything about frogs in the 
cables.” 

The President paused and sighed decp- 
ly. “I love that frog,” he said, at last. “In 
my own шау” 

COROLLARY FOR THE PRESIDENT'S WIFE: 
The President's wife is actually а deaf- 
mute. All her public statements are 
really made by the small Japanese gentle- 
man who lives in her hairdo. He is able 
to approximate a perfectly neutral Cali- 
fornia accent, a facility he acquired with 
only six weeks’ training, due to the fact 
that the Japanese can imitate anything. 

By chance, the first person 1 tried to 
distribute the corollaries to verbally was 
ur Max Hastings. The most sophis- 
‘ated student in the School of Commu- 
nicwion Arts, Hastings often. invited 
tenured faculty to buffet dinners and 
was known to be on a first-name basis 
with three quarters of a rock group and 
the research assistants of two United 
States Senators. When I encountered him 
in the coffee line of the student union, I 
tried the original rumor first, casuall: 
juxtaposing а mention of Presidential 
frog whipping with an observation that 
there was something obsessive about 
American involvement in Southeast Asia. 

“Not another one of those theories 
about how everything goes back to the 
French policy in Indochina,” Hastings 
said, his voice thick with boredom. “I 
can't bear another theory about how 
everything goes back to the French pol- 
icy in Indochina.” 

“Not those kinds of frogs, 
“Real frogs. The President wh 
1 thought everybody knew that 

“Oh, those (то; he said, picking his 
words carefully. “Well, of course every- 
body does know that. I was merely say- 
ing that trying to explain foreign policy 
by a little harmless frog whipping seems 
ovcr-Freudian to me,” 

"I thought so, too, of course," 1 said. 
"Until I happened to hear the other day 
about an incident in the Rose Gard 
with a frog and the President's daughter.” 

Hastings was enchanted by the corol- 
lary to the President's rumor, and when 
1 told him how quickly the little Japa- 
nese gentleman had picked up his accent, 
he told me he had it on good authority 
that the little Japanese gentleman had 
been transistorized. ‘The very next day, 1 
received my first invitation from Wilbur 
Max Hastings to а buffet dinner. Wanda 
Sue refused to go with me. “I'm not going 
to stand around all evening listening to a 
lot of lockerroom talk," she d 

"Have you heard that one, too?" I 
said. "About Grover Cleveland in the 
locker room of the Burning Tree Coun- 
try Clubi 

“Disgusting!” she shouted and marched 
from the room. 


Het d 
in conversation with 
of the School 
of Communication Arts. Bloomfield, a 
communications advisor to а giant cei 
company and to the Republican N 
al Committee, as well as Milledge Pro 
fessor of Media, ordinarily spoke to no 
‘one below the rank of associate proi 

“Hastings tells me you're quite well 
informed on the French and the Com 
mon Market," said Bloomfield, who had 
a reputation as а an who was 
often fuzzy on de 

1 thought about correcting him and 
trying out the frog-whipping story again, 
but somehow at that moment | mus 
have sensed that there was something in 
store for me more important than the 
routine academic life of measuring п 
media verbal distributions and 
an occasional fling at cereal ad. 


er, I was am; 


supplement devices to make him appear 
taller,” 1 said. “I suppose it's familiar to 
anyone who has a wide acquaintance on 
nt, such as yourself. 
t he rather tall (o s 
with?" Bloomfield said 

"Not really," I said, gaining confi 
dence. “If 1 remember correctly, the 
general was actually about five foot, si 
approximately two inches taller tha 
Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopi 

Bloomfield looked impressed. “The 
Ethiopians are rather shortish," was all 
he could think to say. 

“Well, Selassie, of course, is an Ital 
i #4, pressing ge. 
Selassie! peror of 


Маш 
rally, he is obligated by his position to 
daim descent from King Solomon. and 1 
don't blame him for that.” 

"But he led the fight against the Ital 
ians,” Bloomfield said. "He went to the 
League of Nations, He was eloquent in 
denouncing them to the world.” 

“What beter way to hide 
and walked away, triumphant. 


I said 


After that first party, 1 seemed to be 
d everywhere, Soon 1 was in de 
mand even outside the university com 
munity. Wanda Sue remained home, 
sulking. She had taken to calling me 
Dirty Mouth or, occasionally, Toile 
"Tongue. One night, I told a visiting 
English editor that Winston Churchill 
had smoked cigars only when photogr: 
phers were present, otherwise preferring 
a particularly cheap brand of chewing 
tobacco. The editor said that the Fleet 
Street crowd had, of course, known that 
for years. The subject of accents came 
up that night, as it always does when 
there's a visitor from England, and every. 
one listened with respectful. attention 

(concluded on page 186) 


THE PURITY OF THE LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER 


article By JOHN MEDELMAN — marathoner ron daws does 5000 miles а year—it makes him feel better 


THE LONG IOWA HIGHWAY is empty. Beside it, quarter-ton pigs doze in blazing green pastures; the sun has burned a hole 
in the sky and is hanging near the fields. The temperature is climbing toward 96 degrees. 
In the distance, on a crest of the highway, isa bobbing speck. With its even speed and its hard-rubber movement, 
it descends a hill, moves along a flat stretch, starts a new hill that curves two miles toward the hot glass of the sky. 
‘The speck becomes a running man. He is а thin six-footer in a track suit, focusing with angry concentration on the 
road before his fect. He has a swinging muscular gait and runs in the middle of the oncoming-traffic lane. A car cruises 


134 


toward him; he glances up, dismisses it, returns his at- 
tention to the road. The car slows, hesitates, stops, then 
pulls around him while a startled girl's face stares at 
this apparition from behind the wheel. 

"The apparition is Ron Daws, running second in the 
1970 A. A. U. National Marathon Championship. "Ron 
would never move out of the road,” says his wife. “Неа 
xun into the car first.” A tall, almost lanky girl, she is 
standing near the pumps of a country gas station, hold- 
ing a Hilex bottle full of ice and water. Nearby, a knot 
of brown Iowans watches her, watches her approaching 
husband. Each time they move, they break out in a 
fine mist of sweat. On their faces is a blend of sympathy, 
amusement and awe. So far this morning, Daws has run 
20 miles. He is wearing a white painter's cap with a 
white dishrag pinned on to protect his neck; in the cap 
and his track suit, he has a weird resemblance to a 
Foreign Legionnaire galloping purposefully in his 
underwear. 

His footsteps become audible over the noise of the 
crickets and the breeze . . . a slapping punch-punch- 
punch. Then the group can hear his breathing—Shish- 
ah! Shish-ah! Shish-ah! 

Daws's wife pours water into a milk shake cup, hands 
it to a middle-aged man in shorts. The man swings out 
and almost sprints to keep up with Daws. Taking the 
cup, Daws drinks half the water, tosses the rest over his. 
face and shoulders, giving out an involuntary “Huh!” 
as the iciness hits him. He hands the cup back, asking 
abruptly, "Where's third place?" He is irritated with 
his pit crew; they spent the first third of the race driv- 
ing back roads searching for him; then they led him a 
block off course in a small town. He is also irritated by 
the stride of the third-place runner. His own stride is 
a sprawling gallop—like that of a puppet with all the 
strings being jerked—while the third-place man’s is 
dassic for а marathoner: a tiny, almost mincing pit- 
pitpit. "I get listening to it,” says Daws, “and it screws 
up my pace.” 

“Third place isn't even in sight!” says the middle- 
aged man. Daws returns his attention, grimly, to the 
ground. The middle-aged man stops. Within three min- 
utes, Daws is again a speck bobbing down the long 
emptiness of the road. 

Six miles later, he finishes, still second, winning a trip 
to Czechoslovakia and an A. A. U. national team cham- 
pionship for the Twin Cities Track Club of Minneapolis 
and St. Paul. As he and the other runners cross the line 
—nearly all of them alone, most of them five and ten 
and fifteen minutes apart—a small crowd of Iowans 
gives them a sprinkle of applause. With stiff brown 
faces, the Iowans watch the most unlikely concentration 
of will and energy they have ever seen, Were the finish- 
ing runners to cry, "For God and Saint George!” not 
one Iowan would change expression. 

The faces of the runners are rich in bones, hollows, 
angles, ridges; their expressions are intense, spare, pri- 
vate, undemonstrative, stoic. The sturdy brown farmers 
clapping them across the line have oddly similar faces, 
oddly similar expressions. “It was a wonderful experi- 
ence on our part to get acquainted with these athletes 
and their way of life,” wrote the Herman Spreckel- 
meyers to the Dexfield Review Sentinel. “They live 


such a clean life. . . . Secing these sort of young people 
makes us more confident of those who will take over 
when we are gone from the scene.” 

‘The first marathon runner, a Greek messenger who 
ran 24 and a half miles from the Plain of Marathon to 
Athens, cried, “Rejoice, we conquer!” at the end, 
then died. When Ron Daws, going almost a mile and 
a half farther, finished his run through the plains of 
lowa, he took a drink of water and strolled over to 
shake hands with the winner. “All this pain-ofrunning 
business is overdone,” he says. “Still, it's hard work to 
run a marathon.” 

Roger Bannister, the first four-minute-miler, con- 
sidered the marathon a “long-drawn-out agony” and 
wondered “how marathon runners inure themselves to 
the demands their sport makes upon them.” Bannister 
ran a quarter of a mile every minute for the four min- 
utes of his run. After it, he said, “I felt like an exploded 
flashlight, with no will to live." A champion mara- 
thoner will take about 15 seconds longer to run each 
quarter mile, but he will keep it up for over 104 quarter 
miles and two hours. 

An aging athlete of 35, Daws has spent more than 15 
years and 75,000 miles inuring himself to the demands 
of his sport. Running twice almost every day; running 
in obscure races like the Anoka Pumpkin Festival six- 
mile open, the Shakopee to Bloomington Stage Coach 
Run, the Mud Ball four-and-one-half-miler in the Eloise 
Butler Flower Gardens near his house; running in ma- 
jor races like the annual A. A. U. Marathon Cham- 
pionship and the Boston Marathon, he has forced his 
body to change in ways more basic than the enlarged 
muscles and perfected nervous-system patterns of most 
athletes, The biggest change was cardiovascular: Ordi- 
narily, his heart beats about half as fast as most 
people's; then, when he pushes himself, he can work for 
over two hours with his heart pounding at 170 beats а 
minute. (Said a doctor examining marathoners before 
a race, “It’s the strangest thing. These runners trot in 
place and their heart rates get about up to normal. 
‘Then when I start to take their pulse, I don't quite 
count to ten when the rate suddenly drops right back 
to what it was at rest.") Daws either tolerates tremen- 
dously high concentrations of fatigue products in his 
blood or disposes of them by mechanisms no one under- 
stands; his digestive system is like a goat's: He regularly 
eats six big sticky breakfast rolls an hour and a half 
before a race. And he can throw off heat like an air 
conditioner. 

Were he as dedicated to golf or baseball or auto rac- 
ing as he is to distance running, he would probably be 
prosperous and his face would be known to sports con- 
sumers all over the country. But marathon running is 
an amateur sport. Daws makes a mediocre income as 
a state data analyst, and to race he must affirm that 
he has never: 

Sold or pawned an athletic prize 

Raced against a professional 

Been paid for coaching 

Been paid for appearing on radio or TV 
Allowed his photograph to be used in an ad 
Capitalized on his athletic fame. 

Capitalizing on his athletic fame would not gain 
Daws much. "America's most obscure athlete," one 
runner called him. When he (continued on page 164) 


"It's just that Pm worn out from the campaign, my dear. But, 
after Гт elected, I promise уои... .” 


playboy presents its yearly array 
of international cottontails 


eunnies 
F 1972 


IT SHOULD COME as no surprise to James Bond fans that 007 is, among other 
things, a Playboy Club keyholder. In Bond's latest film escapade, Diamonds 
Are Forever, audiences got a glimpse of the secret agent's wallet, containing 
the familiar Rabbit-crested Playboy Key-Card. Bond's taste, always impec- 
cable, is shared by some 800,000 men around the world. That's the current 
number of active Playboy Club keyholders; if you add those who, because 
of distant location or lack of opportunity, visit the Clubs and Club-Hotels 
less frequently, the number climbs to over 1,000,000. ‘These men join 
Playboy for varied reasons—because they enjoy good food, generous drinks, 
fine entertainment and all the sports and recreational facilities afforded 
by first-class resorts. But Playboy's unique attraction, now as when the first 
hutch opened its doors in Chicago in 1960, is the Playboy Club Bunn 

This year. there are more Bunnies than ever: at last count, 1024. Some 
900 of them have signed on since our most recent survey of the couontail 
kingdom, Bunnies of 1971, in August 1971. "That's because of the continued 
growth of the Playboy empire: the opening of a $30,000,000 resort com 
plex—the Playboy Club-Hotel of Great Gorge, in McAfee, New Jersey: 
the debut of the lavish new Chicago Playboy Club in the Playboy Center 
at 919 North Michigan Avenue and expansion of our Lake Geneva Club. 
Hotel property. And there's more to come: A new Club is scheduled to 
open in the scashorc town of Portsmouth, England, sometime between 


| 
@ 


\ 


October and the new year, and a third English hutch is planned for Man 
chester—target date April 1973, 

Among the cottontails at Playboy's 17 Clubs and four resort hotels, and 
aboard Hugh Hefner's DC-9 jet, with its crew of eight specially trained Jet 
Bunnies, are a number of girls who have also starred in rLAYBov's centerfold. 
Since our last Bunnies feature, six more (text continued on page 116) 


Chicago Playboy Club Bunny Phyllis Moisan (opposite poge), 
a hometown girl, is a model-railraading fan. Miami Club 
cattontail Cheryl Carroll (above) prefers tennis end dancing, 
while Lake Genevo's Judy Greno (below) goes hunting or 
trapshoating when she’s not curled up with a book of poetry. 


Tampo-born Kandy Whitbeck (above left) has returned ta her home state after growing up in Wisconsin, where she joined the cottontail carps 
о! Playboy's Lake Geneva Club-Hotel. After a tour of duty at our Montreal Club, Kandy now greets guests ot the Playboy Plozo in Miami 
Beach. Boston's Mickey Hersch (above center), holder of а master’s degree in education from Boston College, works at the hutch on Friday and 


Saturday nights and teaches second grade in the suburbs on weekdays. Bilingual Montreal Bunny Maryse Larose (cbove right) hails from Port 
au-Prince, Haiti; migrating in the opposite direction, Irene Canal (below) deserted Boston for the warmer clime of our Jamaica Club-Hotel 


Finolists for Bunny of the Yeor—1972 
included Chicago's Lieko English (left) 
‘ond Hollywood's Ruthy Ross (below), who 
won the title. Hopping a San Francisco 
cable cor (above) is ski buff Jerri Male. 


Phoenix Bunny of the Year Vicki Snell (above) 
daylights as bakery manager/bridal consultant. 
Tricia Williams, L. A. cottontail (right), has a de- 


gree in French lit; Kansas City Playmcte-Bunny 
Crystal Smith (below) earned hers in radio-TV. 


Jillian Bergamo (above), naw a Bunny ct the New Orleans Playboy Club, ance danced with the Civic Ballet Company in Atlanta. Currently 
cottontoiling in Georgia's capital city is Jade Willicms (below left), a native of Nagoya, Japon. Jade wos a member cf the Atlanta Bunnies" 
basketball team that trounced с Georgia State University fraternity quintet in a benefit match this year. Georgina Protheroe (below center) 


spent several months of the winter cruise season as a Croupier Bunny on Playboy's floating cosina aboard the liner Atlantis. Detroit's 
Carolyn Lorkin (below right), who's an enthusiastic baseball fan, plans to became a social worker when she hangs up her Bunny ears. 


liz Asher (left) came from Dallas to join Chi- 
cago's Bunny ranks; Great Gorge Bunny Michele 
Voyer (above) is Miss  Delaware-Üniverse 


Robin Cecil (belaw) of Waxchachie, Texas, has 
doubled as Denver's Door and Camera Bunny. 


The short and the long of it: Cincinnati's Dianne 
Davis (above) stands 5/1", London's Marilyn Cole 
(right) a statuesque 5/8". Marilyn, our January 


Playmate this year, has left her Club public- 
relations job to return to Bunnying in Fark Lone. 


To own a horse ranch—that’s the longtime ambition of St. Louis Bunny Lori Thebeau (above lefi). Though Charlie Wadsworth of Baltimore 
(above center) was 1965-1966 sack-race champ of Aberdeen, Moryland, she now prefers being treated like а lady, not с tomboy. Biggest 
recent thrill: “A man actually tipped his hat to me! New York Bunny Janice Shilinsky (above right) has been Miss Connecticut—in three dif- 
ferent contests. Jet Bunny Carole Green (below) poses for a photographic portrait aboard Hugh Hefner's DC-9; Los Angeles cottontail Mercy 
Rooney (opposite page) is a talented fashion designer who has also appeared on TV (Laugh-In, Johnny Corson, Truth or Consequences). 


PLAYBOY 


146 


gatefold girls—Crystal Smith (September 
1971), Danielle de Vabre (November 
y (December 1971), 
Marilyn Cole (January 1972), P. J. Lan- 
g (February 1972) and Deanna Baker 
(May 1972)—have joined the ranks of 
Playmate-Bunnies. Special promotional 
appearances for these girls—and for all 
other Playmates—are arranged, 
dentally, by Jo Collins, rLavmoy’ 
Playmate of the Year, who was recently 
ymate Promotions Manager. 
being singled out as Play- 
mates, our cotiontails have been scoring 
high in outside beauty pageants, If one 
could contest wiumphs, 
they'd reach into die hundreds. Possibly 
the current champion is Great 
Bunny Elizabeth Wanderma 
no fewer than 30 titles, including that 
of Miss New Jersey World 1971-1972. 
ncidentally, Chicago Bunny Leah 
in the same Miss U.S. A.- 
World competition, as Miss Illinois 
orld 1971-1972. “I guess I've been in 
six or seven beauty contests,” Leah says. 
“In the most recent one, in May of this 
year, І was first runner-up as—are you 
ready for this?—Miss Antique Airplane. 
I expected to start sprouting wings 
something." Leah's pleased with her 
prize fiom the aeronautical event, how- 
ever. “I won free fly struct nd 
Tm working tow: y pilot's license 


Since I'm also going to be signing up for 
the 


next [et Bunny training dass, I 
that will be a marvelous combina- 
learning about aircraft from both 


the flying and hostessing standpoints.” 


Being a Bunny, Leah feels, is "a glam- 
or thing—hard work but a nice way to 
be noticed.” The same, in her view, is 


true of beauty contests. "Let's face it, 
nning is an ego trip,” she admi, 
"But few people realize how much goes 
into it—how much time you have to 
spend on your make-up, your hair, the 
way you stand. 
Great Gorge Bunny Michele Voyer, 
this year’s Miss Delaware in the Miss 
Universe contest, agrees. "Our contest fi- 
nals were in Dorado Beach їп Puerto 
Rico. We were there for two weeks and 
I think we only got outside once—and 
was to pose for publicity pictures. 
АП the rest of the time was spent in 
rehearsals, fittings, hairstyling sessions, 
and so on. It was an experience, but for 
now I think I've been in enough con- 
Michele, who also reigned as Miss 
sylvania Hemisphere in 1971, was a 
model, а health-spa instructor and an ex- 
ecutive secretary before joining cottontail 
ranks last November. "Becoming а Bun- 
ny is the best thing I've ever done,” she 
says. “It pays extremely well; the people 
are nice and the location here at Great 
Gorge gives me a chance to pursue my 
пору Га a certified scuba diver—in 
the mountain lakes all over this arca: 
Other Bunnies have placed high in 


contests ranging from Miss United B- 
dom through Mademoiselle Quebec. Out 
in Los Angeles. cottontail Sasha Geiger 
was pinned by the Sigma Alpha Epsilon 
fraternity members of Cal State at Long 
Beach as a Little Sister of Minerva—an 
honor previously won by such luminaries 
as Mae West, Carol Burnett and Phyllis 
Diller. (Sash our book, is the prettiest 
of that lot) 

San Francisco Bunny Edith Mc 
Geough competed in the California seg- 
ment of the Miss Black America contest; 
Boston Bunny Carol Kemp considered 
entering but turned down active compe- 
tition in favor of serving as its mistress 
of ceremonies. "I emceed three portions 
of the Mis Black Massachusetts pag- 
cant, including the finals in July,” Carol 
told us. “It was mostly ad-lib, but a lot 
of fun. The contest organizers knew I 
had toured through 78 cities with the 
Ebony magazine fashion show last year 
—and that I had been a scholarship 
student in fashion and design at Gar- 
and Junior College. So I guess they 
thought 1 had picked up enough poise 
and know-how to handle the assign- 
ment." Carol became a Bunny on a whim, 
“I was going on an interview for a fashion 
job last March," she says, "and I passed 
the Playboy in Boston and decided to 
apply on the spur of the moment.” She 
tried it and she likes it. Eventually, Carol 
plans to return to college—this time tak- 
ing up what she calls a “more serious 
subject: governmental studies. The topic, 
she admits, is influenced by the fact that 
her fiancé works in that field. 

College and postgraduate studies, in 
fact, attract many cottontails. New 
York's Dana Clark, who speaks Italian, 
Spanish and French as well as English, 
earned straight freshman 
psychology major at Hunter College last 
; she was scheduled to enter New 
y this fall. Miami Playboy 
Club Bunny Kim Moser has compiled 
A's at two colleges—“You can tell I 
really like school,” she says—and is coi 
temple r year abroad, possi- 
bly in London. “If everything works out 
right, maybe І can get a job through the 
London Club." At Playboy's British out- 
post, Bunny Gillian Van Bolan has been 
accepted at Cambridge and plans a course 
of study to qualify herself as a veterinary 
surgeon. In Los Angeles, cottontail Alyse 
Trostler is celebrating a brand-new B. 
in physical therapy from the University 
of Southern California, while Playmate- 
Bunny Gwen Wong looks forward to 
getting hers in interior design from Los 
Angeles’ Woodbury College- 

The girls of Playboy's Canadian Club 
are u to Gili Eu who 


A's as a 


ire Pimparc, who 
was among 16 of 200 applicants accepted 
for а three-year course in modern 


dance, singing and acting at the Mon- 
treal Academy of Fine Arts. Claire, who 
had the lead in the French-Canadian 
flm l'apparition, has studied drama 
privately for two years. “I enjoy com- 
petition,” she explains in her French- 
accented voice. “That's why I applied 
to be a Bunny. My brothers buy rLaypoy, 
you know, and I sce all these pretty girls 
and I think it will be a challenge to try. 
Now that she's a cottontail, Claire has 
become a Playboy Club enthusiast. "I'd 
like to be able to work at every Club— 
starting maybe next summer in Jamaica, 
she says. “I’m learning many things. You 
know, my English, it was not so bad 
when I came, but it's better now! 
Another new Bunny, Boston's Mei- 
Yong Tam, is an MIT graduate who 
combines cottontailing with working as 
a technician in the research laboratory 
of 1968 Nobel Prize winner Dr. Н. Go- 
bind Khorana. "I've been working for 
Dr. Khorana, who's doing studies in 
nucleicacid chemistry, since January of 
1971," Mci-Yong told us. “My work con- 
sists of isolating single strands from vi 
rus DNA." Born in Canton, Mei Yong 
«ame to the United States in 1961 by a 
circuitous route, Hong Kong and 
Havana. When she got her biology de 
gree at MIT in June, she was айай 
she'd find herself with time on her 


the evenings at my studies that [ 
decided I might as well make some mon- 
ey at night. I could have been a wait- 
ress, but being a Bunny is much nicer. 
And the people at the lab think its 
wild." Mei-Yong, who speaks and writes 


Cantonese, some Spanish, French, Rus- 
sian and German, is saving her money 
to go to medical school—where she 
wants to earn dual Ph.D. and M. D. 
degrees, leading to teaching and re- 
scarch. “I've actually been accepted at 
several places, but I still need a more 
solid financial stake.” 

Show business, as might be expected, 
attracts many girls from the Playboy 
realm. Bunny Ava Faulkner of New 
York—who appeared їп the opening 
shot of Bunnies of 1970—now has her 
own musical aggregation, Ava Faulk- 
ner and Manhattan, with Ava's singing 
backed by organ, guitar, drums and bass. 
Ava, who's been a Bunny for five years 
first in Miami—started out singing for 
fun, with the Earl May Trio in the Party 
Room of the Playboy Club of New York. 
About a year ago. she got her group 
together—and things, she says. “are going 
very well. We've appeared in several 
places around New York, including Play 
Street, The Lorelei and the Playboy Party 
Room; right now, we're hoping for a re- 
cording contract, featuring some original 
stuff the guitar player, John Krasusky, and 
the bassist, Louis Menga, wrote. That's 

(continued on page 200) 


THE PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL 


vole for your favorites for the 1973 all-star band 


WHAT WITH THE ELECTION and all, it’s a great year for the pollsters. Everybody wants to know what the people think 

about busing, welfare, defense spending, and so on. Fortunately, no such weighty issues are at stake in our annual 
Jazz & Pop Poll. It's simply a matter of whether you prefer the sax playing of Cannonball Adderley to that of Fred 
Lipsius, et al. Last year—not surprisingly, in this age of musical cross-pollination—about half the categories in the read 

ers' poll produced winners from the jazz side of the musical field and about half from rock. We expect to find a similar 
display of refreshingly divided loyalties this year. So here again—on the following pages—a ballot, and instructions for 
using it. We hope you'll exercise your musical franchise and have as much fun voting as we did compiling the list. 147 


BIG-BAND LEADER 
(Please choose one.) 
1. Burt Bacharach 
2. Count Basi 
3. Louis Bellson 
1. James Brown 


5. Les Brown 

6. Ray Charles 

7. Clarke Boland 

8. Duke Ellington 

9, Don Ellis 

10. Gil Evans 

И. Maynard Ferguson 


12. Lionel Hampton 
13. Woody Herman 

H, J. J. Jackson 

15. Harry James 

16. Quincy Jones 

17. Thad Jones / Mel Lewis 
18. Stan Kenton 

19. Henry Mancini 

huck Mangione 

21. Charles Mingus 

Sun Ra 

Buddy Rich 

Bobby Rosengarden 

. Doc Severinsen 

Jeff Sturges 

Billy Taylor 

28. Clark Terry 

29. Gerald Wilson 

30. Si Zentner 


TRUMPET 
(Please choose four.) 
1. Nat Adderley 
2. Herb Alpert 
3. Chet Baker 
4. Ruby Braff 
5. Bobby Bryant 
6. Billy Butterfield 
7. Donald Byrd 
8. Pete Candoli 
9. Bill Chase 
10. Don Cherry 
11. Buck Clayton 
12. Wallace Davenport 
13. Miles Davis 
14. Har 
15. Roy Eldridge 
16. Don El 
17. Art Farmer 
18. Maynard Ferguson 
19. Luis Casca 


Edison 


20. Dizzy Gillespie 
21. Bobby Hackett 

. Bill Hardman 

AI Hirt 

Freddie Hubbard 
5. Harry James 
Jonah Jones 

27. Thad Jones 

38. Bobby Lewis 

99. Hugh Masekela 
30. Blue Mitchell 
31. Cynthia Rot 
32. Doc Severi 
33. Woody Shaw 
34. Clark Terry 
35. Snooky Young 


|. Jackie McLe: 


TROMBONE 
(Please choose four.) 

Chris Barber 

Dave Bargeron 

Harold Betters 

Gearge Bohanon 

Bob Brookmeyer 
Garnett Brown 

Jimmy Cleveland 
Buster Cooper 


. Vie Dickenson 
. Carl Fontana 
- Curtis Fuller 


Harry Gravcs 
Benny Green 
Urhie Green 


. Al Grey 


Dick Halligan 
Slide Hampton 
Bill Harris 


. Wayne Henderson 


J. C. Higginbotham 
Eddie Hubble 
Quentin Jackson 


. J- J. Johnson 


Albert Mangelsdorff 
Grachan Moncur HI 
Tuik Murphy 
James Pankow 
Benny Powell 

James Robinson 
Frank Rosolino 
Roswell Rudd 

Bill Watrous 

Dickie Wells 

Kai Winding 

Si Zentner 


ALTO SAX 
(Please choose two.) 
Cannonball Adderley 


. Gary Bartz 


Benny Carter 
Ornette Coleman 
Hank Crawford 
Sonny Criss 


. Paul Desmond 


Lou Donaldson 
Sonny Fortune 


. Bunky Green 
. William Green 


John Handy 


. Paul Horn. 


Eric Kloss 
Lee Konitz 
Yusef Lateef 


. Arnie Lawrence 


Fred Lipsius 
Charlie Mariano 

1 
Charles McPherson 
James Moody 


. Oliver Nelson 
. Art Pepper 


Bud Shank 
Zoot Sims 

Sonny Stitt 

Frank Strozier. 

Grover Washington, Jr. 
Bob Wilber 


Edgar Winter 
Paul Winter 
Chris Wood. 
Jimmy Woods 


. Phil Woods 


TENOR SAX 

(Please choose two.) 
Gene Ammons 
Curtis Amy 
Gato Barbieri 
Sam Butera 
Don Byas 
Al Cohn 
Bob Cooper 
Corky Corcoran 
Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis 
Joe Farrell 
Frank Foster 
Bud Freeman 
Stan Getz 
Paul Gonsalves 
Dexter Gordon 
Johnny Стій 
Eddie Harris 
Joe Henderson. 
Jim Horn 
Illinois Jacquet 
Rahsaan Roland Kirk 
John Klemmer 
Al Klink 
Yusef Lateef 
Charles Lloyd 
James Moody 
David Newman 
Sal Nistico 
Boots Randolph 


. Dewey Redman 


Sonny Rollins 
Pharoah Sanders 
Archie Shepp 
Wayne Shorter 
‘Zoot Sims 
Buddy Tate 


UST YOUR CHOICES IN THE 1973 PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL ON THE FOLDOUT BALLOT THAT FOLLOWS 


37. Lucky Thompson 
38 Stanley Turrentine 
39. Bill Usselron 
40. Ernie Watts 
4l. Ben Webster 


BARITONE SAX 
(Please choose one.) 
1. Pepper Adams 
y Cameron 


2 
3. Harry Carney 

4. Leroy Cooper 

5, Benny Crawford 
6. Ronnie Cuber 

7. Charles Davis 
rlie Fowlkes 
%. Raphael Garrett 
10. Chuck Gentry 
11. Jimmy Giuffr 

12. Frank Hittner 
13. Bill Hood 

14. Jim Horn 

15. Gerry Mulligan 
16. Pat Patrick 
Cecil Pay 
18. Jerome Ric 
Ronnie Ross 
Clifford Scott 


ardson 


Bud Shank 
Lonnie Shaw 
hib Shihab 


John Su 


man 


CLARINET 
(Please choose one.) 
1. Alvin В: 
2. Ramey Bi 
3, Acker Bilk 
1. 


iste 
d 


Ray Burke 
John Carter 

6. Frank Chace 

7. Buddy Collette 

& Buddy De Franco 

9. Fete Fountain 


10. Bob Fritz 
11. Jerry Fuller 

12. Jimmy Giulire 

13. Benny Goodman 

14. William Green 

15. Jimmy Hamilton 

16. Woody Herman 

17. Peanuts Hucko 

18. Rahsaan Roland Kirk 
19. Walt Lev 
20. Fred Lipsius 

21. Matty Matlock 
22. Bob Palmer 

23. Art Pepper 

24. Russell Procope 
25. Ira Schulman 

26. Tony Scott 

27. Pee Wee Spitelara 
28. Bob Wilber 

29. Phil Woods 


PIANO 
(Please choose one.) 
1. Mose Allison 
2. Burt Bacharach 
3. Count Basie 
4. Eubie Blake 
5. Dave Brubeck 
6. Jaki Byard 
7. Ray Charles 
£. Alice Coltrane 
9. Chick Corea 
10. Neal Creque 
11. Duke Ellington 
12. Bill Evans 
13. Tommy Flanagan 
14. Erroll Garner 


15. Vince Guaraldi 

16. Herbie Hancock 

17. Donny Hathaway 
Hampton Hawes 


21. Dick Hyman 


39. 


Pete Jackson 

. Ahmad Jamal 
Keith Jarrett 

. Elton John 

j. Hank Jones 
Robert Lamm 
John Lewis 

. Ramsey Lewis 
Les McCann 
Marian McPartland 
Sergio Mendes 
Lee Michaels 

us Monk. 

Peter Nero 

Oscar Peterson 

Billy Preston 

André Previn 

Little Richard 

Leon Russell 
Joe Sample 
George Shearing 
Horace Silver. 
Billy Taylor 

. Cecil Taylor 

- McCoy Tyner 

. Dick Wellstood 

. Harry Whitaker 
Mary Lou Will 

. Jack Wilson 

- Bob Wright 

. Neil Young 
Joe Zawinul 


‘Thelon 


ORGAN 

(Please choose one.) 
Brian Auger 
Booker Т. 
Owen Bradley 
Milt Buckner 
Ray Charles 
Wild Bill Davis 
Bill Doggett 
. Keith Emerson 
I. Johnny Hammond 


10. Isaac Hayes 

11. Groove Holmes 

12. Garth Hudson 

13. Dick Hyman 

14. Keith Jarrett 

15. Al Kooper 

16. Ray Manzarek 

17. Brother Jack McDuff 
18. Jimmy McGriff 

19. Lee Michaels 

. Don Patterson 

Billy Preston 

Sun Ra 

l. Shirley Scott 

. Jimmy Smith 

. Walter Wanderley 
Stevic Winwood 

27. Khali 


VIBES 
(Please choose one.) 
1. Roy Ayers 
2. Larry Bunker 
. Gary Burton 
. Don Elliott. 
Gordon Emmanuel 
. Victor Feldman 
. Terry Gibbs 
. Tyree Glenn 
9. Gunter Hampel 
10. Lionel Hampton 
11. Bobby Hutcherson 
19. Milt Jackson 
13, Stu Katz 
14. Phil Kraus 
15. Johnny Lytle 
16. Mike Mainieri 
17. Buddy Montgomery 
18. Red Norvo 
19. Dave Pike 
20. Emil Richards 
21. Cal Tjader 
22. Tommy Vig 


GUITAR 

(Please choose one.) 
1. Arthur Adams. 
2. Laurindo 
3. Chet Atkins 
4. Jeff Beck 
5. George Benson. 
6. 
7 
8 


eid 


Chuck Berry 
Mike Bloomfield 
Lenny Breau 

9. Mel Brown. 

n Brown 

11. Kenny Burrell 

12. Charlie Byrd 

13. Glen Campbell 

14. Eric Clapton 

15. Eddie Condon 

Larry Coryell 

. Steve Cropper 

Cornell Dupree 

Herb Ellis 

Lloyd Ellis 


José Feliciano 


Eric 
3. Jerry Garcia 
24. Joao Gilberto 


Grant Gree 
Tiny Grimes 
Marty Grosz 
Buddy Guy 

Jim Hall 


Robby Krieger 
Alvin Le 
Mundell Lowe 


39. Harvey Mandel 


м. 


5. J 


} Pat Martino 


John McLaughlin 
Tony Mottola 
Jimmy Page 

Joe Pass 


. Keith Richard 
б. Howard Roberts 


Carlos Santana 
Bola Sete 

Cat Stevens 
Stephen Stills 
Gabor Szabo 
Peter Townshend 
Tom Trujillo 
Philip Upchurch 
David Т. Walker 


Mason Williams 


Johnny Winter 


BASS 

(Please choose one.) 
Walter Booker 
Ray Brown 
Jack Bruce 
Joe Byrd 
Ron Carter 
Jack 
Peter Cetera 
Buddy Clark 
Stanley Clark 
Art Davis 
Richard Davis 
Donald “Duck” Du 
George Duyivier 
John Entwistle 
n Fielder 
Jimm 
Eddie Gomez 
Rick Grech 
Charlie Had 
Bob Haggart 
Percy Heath 
Milt Hinton 
Cecil McBee 
Paul McCartney 
Charles Mingus 


ady 


Garrison 


5. Monk Montgomery 


Rockette Morton 
"Truck Parham 
Bill Pemberton 
Сап Каде 
Chuck Вай 
Rufus Reid 
. Larry Ridley 
. Julic Ruggiero 


ey 


LIST YOUR CHOICES IN THE 1973 PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL ON THE FOLDOUT BALLOT THAT FOLLOWS 149 


35. Vic Sproles 
36. 


38. Gene Wright 
39. El Dee Young, 


DRUMS 
(Please choose one.) 
1. Rashicd Ali 
2. Ginger Baker 
3. Louis Dellson 
4. Hal Blaine 
5. Art Blakey 
6. John Bonham. 
7. Wilbur Campbell 
Joe Chambers 
9. Kenny Clarke 
. Billy Cobham 
. Cozy Cole 
Bobby Colomby 
. Alan Dawson 
. Barrett Deems 
Jack De Jol 
б. Vernel Fournier 
George Grantham 
. John 
. Chico Hamilton 
Louis Hayes 
Roy Haynes 
. Red Holt 
. Stix Hooper 
. Paul Humphrey 
Al Jackson, Jr. 
Clifford Jarvis 
Gus Johnson, Jr. 
Elvin Jones 
. Jo Jones 
. Philly Joe Jones 
‚ Rusty Jones 
. Connie Kay 
. Jim Keltner 
. Gene Krupa 
. Mel Lewis 
Shelly Manne 
Mitch Mitchell 
„ Keith Moon 
Joe Morello 
. Paul Motian 
. Idris Muhammad 
. Sandy Nelson 
Carl Palme 
. Charles Ре 
. Bernard Pure 
б. Buddy Rich 
Max Roach 
Bobby Rosengarden 
Daniel Seraphine 
Ringo Starr 
Grady Tate 
. Woody Theus 
Ed Thigpen 
Charlie W: 
Lenny Whi 
6. Топу Williams 


ts 


OTHER INSTRUMENTS 


(Please choose one.) 
1. Harold Alexander, 
soprano sax 
2. Yan Anderson, flute 


3. Ray Brown. cello 
4. Don Butterfield. tuba 

5. Paul Butterfield, harmonica 
6. 

1. 


Candido, congas 
. Gary Coleman, percussion 
8. Buddy Collette, [lute 
9. Alice Coltran 


|. Bobby Hali, percussion 

17. Herbie Hancock, Moog 

18. Rufus Harley, bagpipes 

19. Sugar Cane Harris, violin 

20. George Harrison, sitar 

. John Hartford, banjo 

. Paul Horn, fiule 

Dick Hyman, Moog 

Budd Johnson, soprano sax 

. Rahsaan Roland Kirk, flute, 
manzello, stritch 

Lacy, soprano sax 

1 „ flute, oboe 

28. Hubert Laws, flute 

29. Charles Lloyd, flute 

uck Mangione, 

Flügelhorn 


bass clarinet 
33. John Mayall, harmonica 
34. James Moody, flute 
35. Airto Moreira, percussion 
36. Charlie Mussclwhit 
harmonica. 
37. Ray Nance, violin 
38. Walter Parazaider, flute 
39. Jean-Luc Ponty, violin 
40. Sun Ra, Moog 
41. Pharoah Sanders, 
soprano sax. 
42. Mongo Santamaria, congas 
43. Earl Scruggs, banjo 
44. John Sebastian, harmonica 
45. Bud Shank, flute 
46. Ravi Shankar, sitar 
47. Hucy Simmons, English 


horn 
48. Jeremy Steig, flute 
49. Clark Terry, Flügelhorn 
50. Jean Thi 

harmonica 


1. Art Van Damme, accordion 
2. Joc Venuti, violin 

. Michael White, violin 

. Bob Wilber, soprano sax 
Stevie Wonder, harmonica 
56. Rusty Young, steel guitar. 


MALE VOCALIST 
(Please choose one.) 
Mose Alli: 
Ernie Andrews 
Harry Belafonte 
. Tony Bennett 
Brook Benton 


س دا صم خب ا 


6. Chuck Berry 
7. Andy Bey 

8. Bobby Bland 

9. James Brown 
10. Oscar Brown, Jı 
11. Eric Burdon 
12. Solomon Burke 
13. Jerry Butler 
M. J. J. Cale 
15. Glen Campbell 
16. Johnny Cash 
17. Ray Charles 
18. David Clayton “Thomas 
19. Joc Cocker 
20. Alice Cooper 
21. David Crosby 
22. Bobby Dar 
23. Sammy Davis Jr 
24. Neil Diamond 
als Domino 
. Donovan 
. Bob Dy 
. Billy Eckstine 
. Mark Farner 
. José Feliciano 
. Marvin Gaye 
Al Green 
33. Arlo Guthrie 
и. Merle Haggard 

. Tim Hardi 
|. George Harrison 
. Donny Hathaway 
. Richic Havens 
Ronnie Hawkins 
. Isaac Hayes 
John Lce Hooker 
. Luther Ingram 
. Mick Jagger 
. Dr. Joh 
Elton John 
б. Tom Jones 
. B. B. King 
. Kris Kristofferson 
Steve Lawrence 
. John Lennon 
Jerry Lee Lewis 
Gordon Lightfoot 
55. Trini Lopez 

Lgs Marti 
Johnny Mathis. 
Paul McCartney 
- Eugene McDaniels 
- Country Joe McDonald 
Rod McKuen 
Don Mclean 
Van Morrison 


Graham Nash 
Randy Newman 
Nilsson 

. Phil Ochs 

5. Roy Orbison 

. Buck Ow. 
Wilson Pickett 

69. Elvis Presley 
Charley Pride 

- Arthur Prysock 

. Lou Rawls 

. Jerry Reed 

‚ Little Richard 

. Smokey Robinson 


150 LIST YOUR CHOICES IN THE 1973 PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL ON THE FOLDOUT BALLOT THAT FOLLOWS 


76. Leon Russell 
77. O.C. Smith 
78. Jimmie Stanislaus 
79». C 
80. Rod Stewart 
BI. Stephen Stills 
82. Grady Tate 
83. James Гам! 


Stevens 


BM. Johnny Tayl 
85. Joc Tex 

85. Leon Thomas 
87. Mel Tormé 
88. Allen Toussaint 
89. Conway Twitty 


и. Joe Lee Wilson 
Edgar Wintec: 
. Johnny Winter 

97. Stevie Winwood 

98. Bill Withers 

99. Jimmy Witherspoon 
100. Bobby Womack 

Stevie Wonder 
102. Neil Young 


FEMALE VOCALIST 
(Please choose one.) 
- Lorez Alexandria 
. Joan Baez 
Pearl Bailey 
. Mara Lynn Brown 
- Joy Bryan 
Lana С 


§ Betty Carter 
ЖЕТ 


Frank! 
berto 
|. Eydie Gormé 
| Lena Horne 
не! 
Lurlean Hunter 


n Humes 


Carole King 

30. Peggy Lee 

31. Abbey Lincoln 
Jul 

33. Claudine Longet 

54. Lulu 


36. Barbara McNair 
37. Carmen McRae 


38. Melanie 
39. Liza Minnelli 
40. Joni Mitchell 


- Melba Moore 

. Nancy Nelson 

Laura Nyro 

|. Odetta 

. Esther Phillips 

46. Helen Reddy 

. Della Reese 

. Linda Ronstadt 

Diana Ross 

Buffy Sainte-Marie 

- Carly Simon 

2. Nina Simone 

. Nancy Sinatra 

. Grace Slick 

. Dusty Springfield 

. Mavis Staples 

. Barbra Streisand 

58. Kate Taylor 

59. Big Mama Thornton 
. Diana Trask 

- Mary Travers 

. Tina Turner 

. Leslie Uggams 

64. Sarah Vaughan. 

65. Dionne Warwicke 

66. Margaret Whiting 

67. Nancy Wilson 

68. Tammy Wynette 


VOCAL GROUP 
(Please choose one.) 
. Allman Brothers Band 
. Association 
. The Band 
Bee Gees 
Booker Т. and Priscilla 
Bread 
Canned Heat 
Carpenters 
Chi lites 
Creedence Clearwater 
Revival 


Seenopaepe 


11. Delaney, Bonnie & Friends 


12. Dramatics 
13. Emerson, Lake & Palmer 
14. Everly Brothers 


- Four Freshmen 

17. Grand Funk Railrcad 

18. Grateful Dead 

19. Guess Who 

20. Dan Hicks and His 
Hot Licks 

. Honey Cone 

Hot Tuna 

Isley Brothers 

. Jackie & Roy 

. Jackson 5 

. Jefferson Airplane 

7. Gladys Knight & the Pips 

28. Labelle 

29. Led Zeppelin 

30. 

з 


. Lettermen 
. Sergio Mendes and. 
Brasil 77 
32. Mills Brothers 
33. The Moody Blues 
34. NOVI Singers 
35. Osmonds 
36. Persuasions 


37. Poco 

38. Racletts 

39. Rascals 

40. Kenny Rogers and the 
First Edition 

41. The Rolling Stones 

42. Sly & the Family Stone 

43. Sonny and Chér 

44. Staple Singers 

45. Supremes 

4G. ‘Temptations 

47. Ten Years After 

48. Three Dog Night 

49. Ike & Tina Turner 

War 

The Who 

32. Yes 


SONGWRITER-COMPOSER 
(Please choose one.) 

1. Mose Allison 

2. Harold Arlen 

3. David Axel w1 

4. Burt Bacharach-Hal David 

5. John Barry 

6. Carla Bley 

7. Oscar Brown, Jr. 

8 

9 

0. 

Ш 


. Johnny Cash 

. David Clayton-Thomas 

. Leonard Cohen 

‚ Cy Coleman 

Ornette Coleman 

- Betty Comden-Adolph 
Green 

. Chick Corea 

- Clifford Coulter 

. David Crosby 

. Miles Davis 

. Eumir Deodato 

. Neil Diamond 

. Donovan 

. Bob ру 

22. Duke Elli 

Gil Evans 

John Fogerty 

Richie Furay 

з Gay 

. Merle Haggard 

. Herbie Hancock 

. George Harrison 

. John Hartford 

- Isaac Hayes 

Freddie Hubbard 

|. Mick Jagger-Keith 
Richard 

34. Keith Jarrett 

35. Antonio Carlos Jobim 

36. Dr. John 

37. Elton Johu-Bernie Taupin 

38. Quincy Jones 

Carole King 

40. Kris Kristofferson 

41. Robert Lamm 

42. John Lennon 

43. John Lewis 

^4. Gordon Lightfoot 

49. Charles Lloyd 

46. John D. Loudermilk 

17. Henry Mandni 

48. Curtis Mayfield 


glon 


| Paul McCartney 

50. Eugene McDai 

. Rod McKuen 

Johnny Mercer 

. Charles Ming, 

. Thelonious Мо 

Van Morrison 

56. Fred Neil 

57. Oliver Nelson 

58. Randy Newman 

59. Nilsson 

60. Laura Nyro 

61. John Prine 

mokcy Robinson 

63. George Russell 

64. Leon Вих 

5. Lalo Schifri 

66. Wayne Shorter 

67. Paul Simon 

68. Cat Stevens 

69. Stephen Stills 

70. Jule Styne 

. James Taylor 

Allen Tous: 

74. Peter Townshend 

74. Jimmy Van Heusen 

75. Jim Webb 

‘ony Joe White 

77. Paul Williams 

78. Gerald Wilson 

79. Stevie Winwood 

80. Bill Withers 

8I. Robby Womack 
stevie Wonder 

З. Neil Young 

84. Frank Zappa 


INSTRUMENTAL COMBO 
(Please choose one.) 
1, Cannonball Adderley 
Quintet 

2. Gene Ammons Quartet 
3. Art Ensemble of Chicago 
4. Roy Ayers Ubiquity 

5. Gato Barbieri Quintet 

в. 

7 

8. 


. Bee Gees 
- Al Belletto Quartet 
. Art Blakey and the Jazz 
Messengers 
9. Blood, Sweat & Tears 
10. Bread 
11. Dave Brubeck Quartet 
12. Kenny Burrell 
13. Charlie Byrd Trio 
14. Canned Heat. 
15. Captain Beefhea 
Magic Band 
16. Chase 
17. Chicago 
18. Dennis Coffey 
19. Ornette Coleman Quartet 
20. Compost. 
21. Alice Cooper 
. Crusaders 
. Danny Davis & the 
Nashville Brass 
. Miles Davis 
- Charles Earland Sextet 
26. Emerson, Lake & Palmer 
27. Bill Evans Т 


he 


UST YOUR CHOICES IN THE 1973 PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP POLL ON THE FOLDOUT BALLOT THAT FOLLOWS 


Stan Getz Quartet 

29. Dizzy Gillespie Quintet 

30. Grand Funk Railroad 

31. Vince Guaraldi 

. Bobby Hackett Quartet 

3З. Chico Hamilton 

34. Johnny Hammond 
Herbie Hancock Sextet 

. Eddie Harris Quartet 

. Hampton Hawes Trio 

. Earl Hines Quartet 

. AL Hirt 

- Groove Holmes 

- Freddie Hubbard Quintet 

. Bobby Hutcherson- Harold. 

Land Quintet 

43. Illinois Jacquet Trio 

44. Ahmad Jamal Trio 

45. Jefferson Airplane 

16. Elvin Jones Quintet. 

47. B. B. King 

18. Rahsaan Roland Kirk & 

the Vibration Society 


. Mahavishnu Orchestra 

Chuck Mangione Quartet 

Herbie Mann Sextet 

5 ly Manne Sextet 

56. Hugh Masekela 

57. Les McCann Ltd. 

McPartland Trio 

Charles Mingus 

. Willie Mitchell 

‚ Modern Jazz Quartet. 

‘Thelonious Monk Qu: 

. Mothers of Invention 

. Oscar Peterson Trio 

Jean-Luc Ponty Quartet 

. Preservation Hall Jazz 
Band 

67. Max Roach 

68. Sonny Rollins 

69. Aldemaro Romero and 
His Onda Nueva 

- Pharoah Sanders 

Santana 

. Bola Sete 

. George Shearing Qui 

. Archie Shepp 

Horace Silver Quintet 

Jimmy Smith Trio 

bor Szabo 

k Terry Quartet 

- Cal Tjader Quintet 

. Jethro Tull 

. Ventures 

. Jr- Walker and the 
All-Stars 

83. Grover Washington, Jr. 

84. Weather Report 

85. Tony Williams 

86. Teddy Wilson T 

87. Winter Consort 

88. Phil Woods & His Euro 

pean Rhythm Machine 

89. The World's Greatest 

Jazzband 

90. Young-Holt, Unlin 


Please put down the numbers of listed 
candidates you choose, the names of your 
write-in choices; only one in each category, 
except where otherwise indicated. 


BIG-BAND LEADER 


FIRST TRUMPET 


THIRD TRUMPET 


FOURTH TRUMPET 


FIRST TROMBONE 


SECOND TROMBONE 


THE 
1973 
PLAYBOY 
JAZZ & POP 
POLL 
BALLOT 


THIRD TROMBONE VIBES 
FOURTH TROMBONE GUITAR 
FIRST ALTO SAX BASS 
SECOND ALTO SAX DRUMS 


FIRST TENOR SAX 


OTHER INSTRUMENTS 


SECOND TENOR SAX 


MALE VOCALIST 


BARITONE SAX 


FEMALE VOCALIST 


CLARINET VOCAL GROUP 
PIANO SONGWRITER-COMPOSER 
ORGAN INSTRUMENTAL COMBO 


PLAYBOY JAZZ & POP HALL OF FAME 

Instrumentalists and vocalists, living or dead, are eli- 
gible. Artists previously elected (Herb Alpert, Louis 
Armstrong, Count Basie, Dave Brubeck, Ray Charles, 
John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Bob Dylan, Duke Elling- 
ton, Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, George Harri- 
son, Jimi Hendrix, Mick Jagger, Janis Joplin, John 
Lennon, Paul McCartney, Wes Montgomery, Jim Mor- 
rison, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra) are not eligible. 


PLAYBOY'S RECORDS OF THE YEAR 
BEST INSTRUMENTAL LP (BIG BAND): 


BEST INSTRUMENTAL LP (FEWER THAN 
TEN PIECES): 


BEST VOCAL LP: 


Name and address must be printed here to authenticate ballot. 


NOMINATING BOARD: Cannonball Adderley, Herb Alpert, lan Anderson, Burt Bacharach, Booker T., Bob Brookmeyer, 
Ray Brown, Ray Charles, Eric Clapton, Hal David, Miles Davis, Buddy De Franco, Paul Desmond, Duke Ellington, Bill Evans, 
Ello Fitzgerald, Pete Fountain, Stan Getz, Jim Hall, Lionel Hompton, Al Hirt, Milt Jackson, Elton John, J. J. Johnson, Carole 
King, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Paul McCartney, Gerry Mulligan, Boots Randolph, Buddy Rich, ‚ Daniel Seraphine (for Chicago), 


Doc Severinsen, Jimmy Smith, Rod Stewort, Ronald Townson (for 5th Dimension), Kai 


lentner; George Avakian; 


Dovid Axelrod, Capitol; Stan Cornyn, Warner Bros.; Don De Micheal; Nesuhi Ertegun, Atlontic; Milt Gabler, Commodore; 
Nat Hentoff; Teo Macero, Columbio; Dan Morgenstern, Down Beat; Creed Taylor, CTI/ Kudu; Bob Thiele, Flying Dutchman. 


то vore in the 1973 Playboy Jazz & Pop Poll, all you 
need do is fill in the blanks on the flip side of this 
detachable page. The performers selected by our Nomi- 
nating Board—made up of music editors, critics, repre- 
sentatives of major recording companies, independent 
record producers, plus the top finishers in last year's 
readers’ poll and the winners in the All-Stars’ All-Stars 
voting—are listed on the preceding pages. 

The rapid evolution of musical forms in recent years 
and the unprecedented expansion of the field make it 
impossible, of course, to include every artist on a list 
of predetermined length. However, you may vote for 
any active artist in any of the categories. 

Each listed performer has been given a number. To 
vote for a musician included on the list, simply enter 
the number—not the name—in the appropriate space 
on the return ballot. If you cast a write-in vote for some- 
one who has not been nominated this year, just print 
the person's full name. 

Write-in choices for the leader of the Playboy All-Star 
Band must be men who have led a big band (ten or 
more musicians) during the past 12 months; groups with 
nine or fewer musicians are eligible in the instrumental- 
combo category. You're asked to vote for more than one 
musician in some categories, since big bands usually 


carry more than one man at those positions. (With the 
continued fading of boundary lines between the various 
forms of contemporary music, our All-Star Band has 
become an eclectic aggregation. But don't try to give 
your ballot consistency; the incongruities are for us to 
worry about.) 

The only performers ineligible for the Jaz & Pop 
Hall of Fame are those already voted in: Herb 
Alpert, Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Dave Brubeck, 
Ray Charles, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Bob Dy- 
lan, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, 
George Harrison, Jimi Hendrix, Mick Jagger, Janis 
Joplin, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Wes Montgom- 
ery, Jim Morrison, Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra. 
In a change from past voting, only the top vote getter 
will be enshrined. 

To be counted, your ballot must carry your name and 
address; and you may cast only one ballot. It will help 
select the members of the 1973 AllStar Band, who will 
receive the coveted Playboy Medal. Send your ballot 
promptly to PLAYBOY JAZZ & PoP Pott, Playboy Build- 
ing, 919 N. Michigan Avenue, Chicago. Illinois 60611. 
Ballots must be postmarked no later than October 15, 
1972. Our February 1973 issue will contain the results. 


n—-—-—-—-——————— ——— CUT ALONG THIS LINE „ененнен rane nner ELLE LLL 


“How do you like our Wednesday-night get-togethers?” 


the sport of queens trom The Book of Leinster, 12th Century Ribald Classic 


ig. and he grew up to be the most handsome lad 
1 Ireland. He loved to go hunting, and whenever he stopped in a 
village to case his thirst or hunger, the girls would all come around like 
birds for corn. He was admired everywhere, especially among the women. 

Just after Маге 17th birthday, his mother died, and Rónán mourned 
fora year thereafter. At the end of that time, Macl asked, “Have you thought 
of taking another wife, Father? It is better than living alone, I’m told." 

"E have given that a thought," said Rónán, "and I understand that 
Fchthaig, king of Dunseverick in the north, has a lovely daughter. 

But she is a mere girl and a skittish bundle of trouble,” replied Mael. 
“It would be better to find а steady woman.” He tried in every way to 
. but Rónán had made up his mind. He went north 
fixed the marriage agreement with Echthaig and brought the girl home 
with him. She was lovely, it was true; and skittish—that was true as well 

Mael was summoned to bid the new queen welcome. She looked at him 
with wide eyes, for she had heard of his powerful attraction. "You shall 
have our dedication,” said the young man solemnly. “Whatever we have of 
wealth and weasure is at your service.” 

"AIL E ask is that. you care for me,” she replied sofily. 

“Leinster will care for you,” said Macl. 

But a notion had got into her head and, a few weeks after the wedding 
t, the queen sent her waiting maid to find Mael and to whisper him a 
secret proposal. This maid, it seems, was a fine strapping woman, and she 
had fiery blood, too. But when she found Мас1 Fothartaig playing chess 
with his foster brother Donn, she was afraid to speak. 

Before long, Mael went away and Donn said to her, 
you. Speak, woman. 

"It is not that I want to tell it,” she said, “but the queen wants Macl to 
be her lover. 
Мас! would have killed you himself had he heard that," said Donn. 
“But if you tire of sleeping alone, ГЇЇ speak to him on your behalf.” 

Soon thereafter it was arranged, and Mael slept warmly with the maid 
But the young queen, seeing that nothing had come ol her message, began 
to suspect the truth. She stormed at her servant and threatened dreadful 
punishment, and so the maid ran to Mael and told him of the queen's desire. 

Rónán's son was angry to hear of it, lor nothing would shake his loyalty 
to his father. Taking 50 warriors with him, he sailed olf to Scotland, where 
he joined the Scots nobles and spent his ume hunting and in battle. One 
day, somebody brought the news that there was a plot against R i 
Leinster and that his Ше was in danger. Mael and his men quickly 
embarked for Ireland, 

He landed at Dunseverick and was given a welcome by Echthaig. 
"Em surprised to see you here," said the king. “I thought you were at 
home in Leinster, in bed with my daughter. Thats the way I assumed 
things would end up." Mael was amazed at this, but he made no reply 

When he got home to Leinster, Mael met the waiting maid in secret and 
she told him that the queen had ordered her killed—unless she could 
persuade him to a royal rendezvous. Then Mael went to ask Donn for help. 

“TI cure the queen ol this running fever,” said Donn. "But first you 


dissuade his fathe 


"Something bothers 


must pay me with your cloak, your horse, your three best hounds—yes, and 
the graysilk hood you wear on wet hunting days.” Mael was downcast to be 


asked a price. He had never thought Donn greedy. But he accepted, That 
spoiled the friendship between the two young men, but Donn's deed was as 
good as his bond and Macl never heard а word from the queen, angry or 
loving, from that day. 

Now, this was the way of things at Rónán's court from then on: Every 
Tuesday and Friday, Mael slipped off for a lovers meeting with the 
maidservant. On these same days, Macl was also seen hunting alone in the 
forest, It must have been Mael, for that was his cloak, that was his horse 
and those were his hounds. At about the same time, the queen was setting 
off for a quiet ride in the country round. Some hours later, she would come 
home from the forest, glowing as if she'd been well rubbed 

Donn knew that, what with the hood covering most of his face and the 
shadows in the woodcutter’s hut, he could keep up the deception for a 
long timc. It did give him a lot of sorrow to lose the friendship of Mael 
he was aware that he'd be killed if Rónán ever caught him. But a man 
lias to make some sacrifices in а good cause. —Retold by John Dickson KB 


in his latest work, italy’s great 
director limns his favorite city . . . 


article By BRUCE WILLIAMSON 


N ROME on a balmy day, there 
"d to ask what's new. The 
answer is plastered throughout the city 
and suburbs on countless billboards, 
each displaying—against a deep-red Ro- 
man sky—the sad, skeptical face and 
extravagant bosom of a prostitute, one 
of the roadrunning night birds known 
locally as le polverose, or “the dusty 
ones.” Given that familiar image, it 
hardly comes as a surprise to read the 
accompanying legend, ROMA—IL CAPOLA- 
Voro Dt FELLINI. The masterpiece of 
Fellini. 

Bold words. Yet several days follow- 
ing the film's premiere, public response 
and critical consensus testify persua- 
sively that il maestro has, indeed, 
done it again. Praise is lavish for Fede- 
rico Fellini's multicolored first-person 
diary of life in the city of the Caesars. 
“Beautiful, exhilarating, and a little 
mad," writes one delighted critic. Others 
find Roma "a phar 4 


agoría a 


film of furious riches “poetry, 


The provocative figure depicted above (ex- 
treme left and right) is Fellini's variatian an 
a famous Etruscan sculpture of the she-walf 
thot suckled Romulus, legendary founder of 
Rome, and his twin, Remus. The ariginal, Lo 
Lupa Ccpilolino, is enshrined in the Ccpita- 
line Museum in the center af the city. The 
variation, first oppearing in poster form as 
advertising for Fellini's Rama at the 1972 
Cannes film festival, stirred such a contro- 
versy that it was denaunced by the festival 
end banned fram several cauntries, Roma 
itself fomented far less furor. In the film (top 
to bottam, left ta right), il maestro cleverly 
blends fact and fantasy in scenes that show 
the grect whore of Rimini surrounded by ad- 
miring consuls, en ecclesiastical fashion show 
camplete with rellersketing cordinels and 
metallic Pope, о transvestite and twa pras- 
имез proffering themselves, а missionary 
nun shrouded in a mosquito net and a pair 
of pitiful trysts от a working-class bordella. 


... and, in the process, shows the 
world what makes federico tick 


exemplary . . . cinema in its pure state.” 
The director himself appears to be 
taking success in stride, used to it, per 
haps. “I wonder whether that poster will 
be good for America,” he asks rhetorical- 
ly. “Will they understand?" Pensive, his 
tie loosened, wearing a black sweater 
under a conservative gray-plaid suit, Fel 
li sits with chin sunk to his chest in a 
tiny office up two dingy flights over a 
shop on the Via Sistina, a refuge he 
seldom visits except between films. In 
front of him stand two enormous orange- 
leather chairs and, atop a handsome 
plate-glassand-chromium coffee table that 
gift from director Franco Zeffirelli, 
of straight Scotch. 
ashing his 


ve reviews is the last 
Fellini wants to do. A solid hit in 
Roma would soon require sub- 
nd dubbing before its invitational 
showing at the Cannes film festival 
(where it was to meet with new suc 
cess), followed by a U.S. premiere. Fel- 
lini declares himself wearied at facing 
the technical chores ahead. “The trouble 


The autobiographical style has always been 
© trademark of Fellini’s work, but only in 
Roma has he gone as far as to call his 
protagonist Fellini, selecting a 22-year-old 
Texan, Peter Gonzoles (ct left, top), to play 
the role. An activist director, Fellini (left tc 
tight, top to bottom) instructs one actress 
who plays a horlot, grimaces for another 
cost os a litle girl, blocks a scene with 
а gong of motociclisti and—with Marcello 
Mastroianni ond Luciana Marcellini, who 
portrays Anita Ekberg—mokes merry in а 
sequence recalling Lo Dolce Vito days. As 
he escorts another streetwolker, frames o 
flash on a statue of Mussolini, guides a gra- 
tesque madam on the Via Appia Antica, 
paces among the hippies an the Piazza di 
Spegna ond reacts to a suggestion of a 
motociclista, Fellini works with a loving 
touch. That's hardly surprising, since Roma 
spelled backward as Freudian hist. 


PLAYBOY 


158 


it's so boring. Each time you dub is 
like doing the movie over again, and 
you have no more desire. It’s an infant 
you have already given birth to once.” 
About critics, he equivocates. Do they 
worry him? "No, but I admit a cert 
dependence on them. If they нае me 
applause, it has an effect. If they don't 
like my work, 1 become a little more 
depressed. I need encouragement, às а 
child does. But cri тс a strange 
breed. If they are married, as husbands 
they are still critics. As parents, they arc 
a itics. It is as though they exist on some 
higher plane, always compelled to see 
something not as it is but as it might 
have been otherwise. Like the Pop 
who was speaking the other day about 
himself and ‘the outside world." As if he 
Were no part of it! How can even a 
Pope exist apart from reality? There's a 
kind of madness, no? One becomes crazy 
with power and omnipotence 

Fellini smiles into his drink when an 
c reminds him of the press confer- 
ence in which an Italian journalist 
asked him to explain the significance of 
the blind characters in his films. “They 
rch for significance, and they find it 
in blind extras. That's what I mean 
about critics. Though I didn't mean at 
the beginning to compare critics to the 
Pope.” 

Assured thar many m 

he changes the subject. 
mood. In periods like this. 
ntial piece of work bel 
more relaxed 1 
ime for seeing friends, meeting with his 
tax man, going out to dinner, catchi 
up on films he has missed, weighing 
projects. Raising money. Ah, yes A 
principal backer of Roma, he says is 
presently in jail, following а financi 
scandal that delayed the production for 
months, though it was unrelated to the 
picu у а producer to stand 
between him and the men who hold the 
purse strings is always a problem, yet his 
re inexpensive by Ameri 
Roma cost something like 
$2,500,000. “In Hollywood, they spend 
$10,000,000, but most of that goes for 
telegrams. Also а lot for phone calls. 

"What shall we do? I thought 
PLAYBOY would ask me about women. 
This afternoon there will be only three 
-.. two for me.” By now, Fellini is on 
his fect, animated, picking up the phone 
to make reservations for dinner, asking 
а aide to call а female translator about 
her availability tomorrow. “If her hu 
band answers, hang up,” he adds lightly. 

Aware that he has often been charged 
with mischievous behavior during inter- 
views, Fellini evidently relishes the accu- 
n. "Of course E invent answers. Isn't 
that only fair, since an interviewer i 
vents the questions?” At the age of 52, 
with his long grayish hair crowned by a 
bald spot, the mask of boyish innocence 


e flattered, 
the 


w 


still becomes him, and how well he 
knows it. He speaks Fnglish with a soft 
accent, sometimes haltingly, and belie 
he needs an interpreter—though when 
he has one, the interpreter can seldom 
slip a word into the uninhibited flow of 
conversation. 

Rome with Felli 
definite shape and color. W: 
spon as rich in sens 
as the master's own unforgettable Roma, 
which affectionately distills the i 
ns of a lifetime. 

The film opens in Rimini, a town on. 
the Adrialic coast, with Fellini's boy- 
hood dreams of faraway Rome as a syno- 
nym for worldliness and decadenc 

A priest is delivering a slide lecture 
on Roman landmarks in a parochial 
school. A view of the Tomb oj Cecilia 
Metella. The Arch о] Constantine. St. 
Peter's. Then, suddenly, a naked wom- 
an's exposed bottom. flashes upon the 
screen and the classroom bursts into 
cheers. 

Later, a young man’s fancy is cap- 
tured by the great whore of Rimini, a 
lady in red who entices her queue of 
male customers into the back seat of a 
vinlage touring car. 

Rome is Fellini, Fellini is Rome. All 
, he gazes down upon the city's 
y of lights from the rooftop lounge 
of the Hotel Eden, a block or so from 
the busti in Veneto, and he is not 
entirely sure. “Everywhere I go in Rome, 
I sce a street corner, maybe a corner 
where we shot the film, and I think I 
missed something. The real Roma still 
escapes me, It is clusive, like a woman 
you have possessed and loved. then you 
meet her later and she has again become 
elusive, a stranger . . . you wonder if you 
ever possessed her at all." 
ted from the vista by the sound 
of a cockt in the next room, 
he makes a wry face. “You hear? The 
great danger of Roman restaurants is the 
music. Usually, they have these people 
with guitars and violins who surround 
you. The music gives you tristezza, you 
cannot concentrate, 1 like music only ii 
my films: 

Fellini orders a mai tai, which arrives 
in a huge clear goblet garnished with 
fresh-fruit slices and exotic sprigs of 
green, much to the amusement of two 
dinner companions—sporty Bernardino 
pponi, scenarist for both Satyricon 
па Кота, and Riccardo Aragno, Anglo- 
Italian journalist and an intimate of 
Fellini since the prewar years when they 
lived in the same pensione. A remar 
bout the exti 
provides Fellini's cue to qui 
the bartender has seen my 
you suppose he makes it the 
everyone?" 

Dinner proceeds through 


neous 


cheese, an omelet, white wine and Fi 
gi mineral water. Fellini refuses а d 
тепе with his coffee, having stopped 
smoking after an attack of pleurisy five 
years ago. “I gave it up, without hero- 

m,” says he, as the conversation weaves 
hack to the postwar period of Occupa 
ion. Fell alls escapades with spies, 
roughnecks and Canadian MPs in a 
shop of his own, called Funny Face, 
where he drew caricatures of GIs on rest 
leave and sold them to the boys along 
with one-play discs carrying recorded 
messages to their loved ones at ho 
“The Gls had money and time to spend, 
and spent it on whores first. When they 
were satisfied, they cime to me.” 

It is an evening of reminiscence 
and shoptalk. Fellini discusses Modem 
Times but prefers the pure Chaplin 
comedy of The Circus, made in the 
period before Chaplin's social conscience 
began to surface. "My one regret,” he 
says, "is that ] was born too late and 
started to make films after those early 
pioneering days of the mutes, when 
everything was in the way of being dis- 
covered.” Aragno begs to point out tha 
Fellini himself, almost singlehandedh 
has revived a kind of lyricism and poetic 
imagery that restore much of cinema 
original visual wonder. 

"You think so?” Felli 
arches ап eyebrow. 100 
skeptical. — ' 

A lesser dispute arises about the time 
young Federico came rolling home at 
dawn in a horse-drawn carriage and had 
to peel off his shirt to pay the driver. He 
daims that Aragno watched the whole 
incident from a balcony and didn't 
help. "He's inventing again,” scoffs 
Aragno. "He remembers things perfectly, 


in absolute, impeccable detail, even 
though they never happened." 
"Well, that’s my profession,” Fellini 


replies with a shrug. Between the hotel 
entrance and the taxi stand, the director 
is accosted by ап effusive fellow who 
pumps his hand and detains him 
conversation for five minutes, though 
Felli insists afterward he hasn't the 
aintest memory of meeting the man 
before, “Maybe he considers me one of 
the attractions in his tour of Rome.” 

"Roma," 1938. The young Fellini 
(played by 22xearold Peter Gonzales, 
an American actor from Texas) tackles 
the city at the age of 18 to test his inno- 
cence against the harsh realities of Rome 
under fascism. 

By 1942-1943, at the height of the 
wartime fascist era, he is frequenting 
whorchouses of markedly different qual- 
ity—one a pala: of pulchritude for 
rich men, one a cow barn for the poor. 

He moves from glultonous Roman 
feasts to a shoddy music hall, where 
drunks and hecklers in the audience 

(continued on page 232 


row, row, row your boat—but 
be sure to go through channels 


ДЫ. 


Су n 
ша 7 «и 


vi^ 


“I hate these company pep talks!” 159 


"I heard they were bringing 
in an efficiency expert.” 


= “Оюу COE. 
бча N Dice 


"Poor Clavius—caught making out 
with the emperor’s secretary 
at the Christmas party." 


“That'll be enough of that, Jason. “How come there are only three women with 
You've used up your sick leave." positions of responsibility on this boat?!” 


و = = 


“And this scroll 
in recognition 
of 25 years of 

faithful service. 
Goodbye and 

good luck!” 


“You'll get a seat by the window when 
you have the experience, the know-how 
and the seniority—that's when!” 


“I told him they were going to crack 
down on his long lunch hours.” 


“Quit bitching. With this recession, 
we're lucky to be here at all.” 


162 


I'm going to fight you Ea» ^ (| 
tooth and nail for d d 
| 7 


the next promotion.” 


& IE 
кс 
“Be forewarned, Clavius, КЕ ® 
1 
S 


РЕЗ 


Гаете To оар 
EE NUI 


у? 


ТАСС СЗ з Са 
: — 
BT DI DIDI û DIDI 


авй | т" = es mn. | E т 244 S 
A OID OI IRIE BIB OO CO OA OUI tne 


“Once a company man, always a company man.” 163 


o1 


PLAYBOY 


164 


LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER |. pom poge 131) 


was the first American finisher in the 
1969 Boston Marathon (behind a Japa- 
nese and two Mexicans), runners in the 
middle of the pack, listening to transistor- 
radio reports of the race, said to other 
runners, “Ron Daws just came in, Ron 
Daws of Minneapolis 
"Who" asked the 
"Who's that; 
In 1967, when he won the National 
Marathon Championship (im 90-degree 
heat). hís name was not even on the 
oficial program. "Who's that?” asked 
the few spectators a marathon draws. 
"Who's that crossing the linez" 

Months later, in the 1968 Olympic- 
m selection trials, he was ranked 19th 
out of 20 expense-paid contenders (and 
he made that top 20 only because he 
placed in a 
where 


other runners. 


ity mara- 
rare as auks). When he 
d for the 1968 саш, the Olympic 
n of Track and Field News ran а 
small headline: “DAWS FINDS PERSISTENCE 
PLUS SMART PACING PAY OFF." It's the 
story of his life. 


“My kids know what a daddy does,” 
Daws says. “A daddy comes home from 
work, puts on his trick clothes and goes 
regular paths loops 
les around three 
lakes. Aftcr October, the path is dark in 
the evening and as bleak and empty 
path across 
that TH break a leg and freeze before 
anyone finds me,” he says. “But some- 
how my feet find their way in the dark." 
One of his favorite memories is of a 
night when snow was banked far higher 
than his head on both sides of the path. 
"Everything was pitch-black but a str 
of sky. The sky was glittering with stars, 
There must have been twice as many 
stars out as usual that night.” 

One winter Sunday morning, а report- 
er—riding a bicycle—followed Daws on 
his training run. The run was to be 
short, 20 miles around the lakes, instead 
of the 30 Daws usually runs on Sundays. 
With his characteristic mix of self depre- 
cation, pride and chatty good cheer, 
Daws showed his trophies before they 
left his small house to go out into the 
snow. There w nd plaques and 
medals and ribbons—dozens of ribbons, 
fixed like butterflies in cases, “The tro- 
phies get pretty nice when you start 
finishing up front,” Daws said. But the re- 
porter thought of the silver ums, ihe 
towering rich goblets given out at the 
various Twin Cities yacht dubs, and 
Daws's trophies seemed like the prizes any 
assiduous bowler could collect. 

(Later, in the spring, back from a 
s, where he came 
"The first three 


finishers got something really nice—a 
big photograph of themselves going over 
the finish linc." The reporter looked for 
some hidden bitterness, some pressed- 
down sarcasm in his tone. But he could 
find none.) 

Daws and the reporter drove through 
the morning snowstorm to the path that 
circled the lakes. It was dark enough to 
have to use the car headlights. The 
reporter hauled his bike out of the 
trunk and Daws set off. He talked about 
his running, giving out little white puffs 
with his words. He talked as easily as if 
he were sitting on а porch. His feet 
made no sound and his voice was quiet. 
“1 жаз a miler for the Uni 


i go on road trips. We ha 
ner there then: Buddy 
the сапу Sixties, he ran the 
thon in history." 

“I'm sorry, 
going to the U th 
heard of him." 

"Nobody in America has,” said Daws. 
“Ате is aren't interested іп distance 
running. When I went to the '68 Olym- 
pics, KSTP asked me to call if anything 
interesting happened. But they weren't 
rested in the real Olympics—the 
ning and the games. All they cared 
about hearing was if one of the Russians 
socked a Czech. Buddy Edelen finally 
moved to England. ‘I became a real run- 
ner when I set foot on English soil,” he 
said," (When Daws placed second in the 
Iowa marathon, the man at the sports 
desk of the St. Paul Dispatch, when asked. 
why his paper had printed nothing 
about Daws or the Twin Cities Track 
Club win, answered, "A marathon? 15 
that some sort of race: 

"One day I was going to run some 
laps with Buddy," Daws went on, “when 
the coach shouted, 'Daws, get off the 
track!” like I wasn’t good enough to be 
running at the same time. That coach 
was a pathetic old man waiting for re- 
ement. He had us tra the 
Fifties the way the: the 
Twenties. I saw him again years later, 
when I carried in the torch at the Pan- 
American С; . You should have scen 
his сус» bug out! 

“Ac the U, I was running such junk 
that I quit the team in my senior year. 
But I didn't want to quit running; 
hadn't accomplished anything yet. I 
moved outside and upped the puny 30 
or 40 miles a week I'd been running to 
100 miles and more. The university run- 
ners thought I was crazy, running out- 
side at night at 20 below, but I was 
enjoying it" (In Dawss scrapbook is a 
photograph of him back from а 28-mile 
belowzero run; an icicle a foot long 
hangs from his arctic face mask and the 


Edelen. In 
test mara- 


“I was 
never 


stid the reporter, 
j, but I've 


breath blown upward from the ma 
edges has settled in thick frosty ledges 
on his brows) 

As Di cantered without effort into 
the snow, he now and then broke off his 
narrative to ask, "Isn't this a nice day? 
= Isn't this a pretty place?” 

It was а haunting day and place. 
The lake shore was deserted and, bc- 
yond the uces, the sky—which usually 
shows the prosperous, blunt and modest 
towers of Minncapolis—was opaque with 
snow. The ncar-frozen water rolled thick- 
ly beneath ducks, which appeared sud- 
denly, paddling cheerily and wukking to 
themselves. Daws came upon a jogger, 
swung out and passed. The jogger hopped 
in surprise, became an indistinct shadow 
and was gone behind the sleety, white- 
powder wall. Daws ran without friction, 
without weight, like those polished, bal 
anced oiled- су that sp 
endlessly with one push. 

Around him was a city breathing— 
most of its half-million people hunched 
in blue light in front of TV sets, watch- 
ing the ghosts of athletes compete. But 


mac 


nut 


Daws might have been moving beside 
some Alaskan 


€ or around a flooded 
crater in the Andes. He had the solitude, 
the spaciousness, the sense of weather 
and the animal movement that the 
ghostly hawkers on TV—selling their 
cigarettes, their deodorants, th 
carengined station wagons—were 
tending to dispense. 
om a young 
searcher in creativit 
perfect tackle could be as aesthetic a 
produc às a sonnet.” And marathon 
runners too, are a variety of a 
There are artists of the beautiful, artists 
of the useful. . . . Marathon runners are 
artists of . . . what? 

What do you think abour when you 
run?" the reporter asked. 

Daws laughed, with a soft hint of exas- 
erybody asks me that." But 
he answered carefully. “Оп training 
runs, I watch people go by. 1 wonder 
about their lives. I think about my com 
petitors—about them going out the door 
and beginning to run in England or 
Ethiopia or New Zealand. . . ." He 
mulled over old angers, dissolving them 
with exertion. He told about a time 
some neighbors had knocked him into a 
showbank with a car door. “They drove 
off laughing and drinking something out 
of a bottle. I called the police, but they 
wouldn't do a thing." He remembered a 
time some blacks had thrown a bottle at 
him, a time a teenager had punched 
another runner from a car. "In races, T 
just think about the next few steps. 
tell me the Olympic course was 
iful, coming down the boulevards 
by Mexico City's flowers and statues and 
lakes. But I might as well have been 


ir race: 
pre- 


100% Blended 5 сп Whiskies. 86.6 Proof. Imported by Somerset Importers, Lib., New York, N.Y. 


Once in a while, 
you find something you want to share with someone. 
It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. 
And that’s beautiful. 


„ Say "Johnnie Walker Red?" You won't get it by just saying “Scotch! 


PLAYBOY 


166 


running down a Minneapolis alley. 
Then, toward the end of a race, I don't 
think at all. I don't hear; I just ru 
There's a marathoners’ saying, “At 20 
miles you're halfway there.” 

After a time, the parked car appeared 
out of the snow. “Twenty miles,” Daws 
said. Stopping by the trunk, pleasantly 
ready to help lift and stow the bike, he 
again checked his watch, "Two hours 
and 20 "Well. that’s not really 
so bad for a social run. I guess. 

Outside his house, he sat with the re- 
porter a few minutes, talking. The engine 
and the heater were off, yet he steamed in 
the barely frcezing air. Steam rose from 
his thin jacket, from his sweat pants, 
from his hair. Then he began to shiver. 

As he got out, the reporter called, 
“The Olympics, that last night—was it as 
great as it looked on TV? 

(On that last night, the reporter had 
watched the athletes pour over the b 
ers, flood past the passively resisting 
officials, swirl in sturdy, happy patterns 
on the grass—while the crowd chanted, 
"May! He! Co! May! He! Co!" and 
tinny gay mariachi music spouted fr 
the band. The reporter had found him- 
self laughing—happy at the gaiery of 
hundreds of athletes dancing in a stadium 
1800 miles away. 
I was one of the first over the barri- 
said Daws. “It couldn't have looked 
at as it really was!” 

In late winter there were tremendous 
snowfalls, The reporier called Daws the 
day after a Dlizard—the heaviest bliz- 


muffled to soft hums and the silence so 
thick he could hear the tny clicks of 
snowllakes—and asked if he had run. “I 
ran 20 miles," Daws said. “It was pretty 
hard. There was only a rut; the cars 
wanted it and I wanted it. We've begun 
calling this snow Greasy Skid Stuff; i 
almost impossible to get any traction in 
it. IVs going to be a long winter. 

After that, on nights when the bare 
trees thrashed ferociously against the 
moon or snow blurred the street lamp 
15 fect from the porch, the reporter 
would say to friends, "Ron Daws is out 

i " They'd take а qui 
glance out the window and make shud- 
dery noises of disapproval and disbelief. 
“Ron gets lonely running sometimes, 

wife says. "He likes weekends; he 
сап find people to run with him ther 
Spring is his worst season; his feet get 
frozen running in the slush. Sometimes. 
he complains about being physically 
tired, but he really loves to run 

In carly summer, he runs in double 
sweat suits, "Runners laugh at me,” he 
says, "coming from Minnesota and nin- 


my best races on hot days. but I 


n in. 


make my own hot weather to tra 
Other runners are awed—with the di 
ance runner's CIA-agent awe of people 
who stand up well to torture—secing him 


come back in his double sweat suit from a 


S0-mile summer-Sunday run, stagger 
rough the alleys with the heat, Dur 
a summer workout, he and a friend ran 
into an industrial district. All the busi- 
nesses were closed and they couldn't find 


гаа years, with the sounds of cus — water. “Then we spotted а саг that was 
Mr. Quinberry . . . your policy doesn't cover 


your being sat on by an elephant.” 


beaded with rain from the night be- 
fore,” Daws says. “I went to one sidc, 
my friend went to the other, and we 
icked the water off. People don't under- 
stand when J tell them about it; they 
recoil a little. They can't understand 
being that thirsty.” 

At six feet and 150 pounds, Daws is 
bulky for his sport. While the faces of 
some runners look sunken, as if the skin 
were being sucked between the sharp 
bones, Daws has some padding, even a 
touch of apple coloring, to his checks. 

One of the arguments against exercis- 
ing to lose weight is that you have to 
nm 36 miles to really lose a pound. 
Daws runs 5000 miles a year. This time 
t year, he should weigh 11 pounds. 
Since college, he has run off nearly a 
ton of flesh. To counteract vanishing, 
he cas—hamburgers, tacos, pizzas, milk 
ts like a caricature of a 
ut to 
law. 


goes back for t 
and hide i 


ncs T go out 
done: 
You can look at runners 
before a race and tell who's going to 
win. It’s always the рајем, skinnicst, 
weakest. wretched-looking gu) 
The runner who finished behind me in 
the "68 Olympic trials was so skinny the 
Army wouldn't take him. He flunked his 
draft physical, then went out and ran 50 
miles at about six minutes to the mile. 
Tt was a new record for the 50-mile 
run.” (Because he wears long-sleeved 
clothes and rums at night, Daws is pal 
The Night Crawler is the nickname 
given him by a friend.) 

Like most marathon runners, Daws 
looks about ten years younger than his 
It is only after a race, when dehy- 
ion has brought out the cracks and 
wrinkles in his face, that one would 
guess him to be older than his mid-20s. 
(Alter his fastest race, a camera caught 
him grinning at the world. His neck was 
saawny; his skin, sliced everywhere by 
ukles, looked crusty beneath its layer 
of sweat and was pulled tight across his 
skull. His neck had wattles like a tur- 
Коуз. His teeth stood out like the teeth 
of a horse. He could have passed for 50) 

Recently, Daws has begun wearing his 
hair fashionably long and his wile ha 
pu into bell-botioms. Last spr 
he even a ache—which he 
shaved off. ¢ me feel old, and 
besides, E couldn't seem to run fast with 
it оп. 

Even with the long h 
bell-bottom pants. there is something of 
the Iowa soy rmer about. him. Hi: 
vious hair style fit him better; it was 
butch cut, long оп top, where it shot 


most 


even with his 


straight up, almost shaved on the back 
and sides. With the butch cut, with 
his preternatural youth, with his air 


of friendly wholesomeness, he resembled 


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an Cagle scout from some 1953 Mid- 
western troop. (And when he was train- 
ing for the 1968 Olympics, running for 
hours every day in the Colorado desert, 
he spent his spare time building 
plane models—huge fragile things of 
balsa wood and tissue paper, the kind 


can’t even climb into the bleachers 
without gasping. 

Baseball, now, there's а lazy m 
sport. That must be the most bor- 
ing game in the world. And the 
players must be in the worst shape 
Make a baseball player run half a 


docs. Ethiopian Abebe Bikila ran bare 
foot over the cobblestones of Rome to 
win the 1960 Olympic marathon, then 
won it again, in Tokyo, in 1964. For 
years his life story was the second most 
popular subject of the tapestry /comic 
book that is a popular Ethiopian art 


no опе builds anymore.) mile and hell whine about break- form. (The most popular subject was а 
He is also like an eagle scout—or ing his contract perennial: the story of King Solomon 


someone from some fixed moral system, 
at least—in the certainty of his vie 


awss usual tonc good- 


and the Queen of Sheba.) Emil Zatopek 
won the marathon, plus the 5000- and 


natured, with his aggression blended in 
softly, like ап herb. One could know 
him a long time before feeling the hos- 
tility under his surface. Usually he seems 
mild, even bland, with an eagle scouts 
energetic bl ss. All the runners who 
congregate at marathon races are like 
that: benign, energetic, friendly and soft- 


good; this is bad; this is right; 
this is wrong: 


10.000-meter races, in the 1952 Olym 
pics, and rapidly became а Czechoslo 
п colonel. But when New Yorker 
Moore qualified for the 1964 
Olym; both the 5000- and the 
10,000-meter events, his boss, a jewelry 

anulacturer, fired him rather than give 


I was up in the balcony watching 
a movie when the projector went off 
and they passed around the hat for 
respiratory disease. The cigarette 
smoke in the balcony was so thick 


Oscar 


you could hardly see across the voiced. But they can also chill suddenly — Pim time off for the trip. rw 
aisle. 1 wouldn't give a cent. They ke on the alienated stoic look of Aud when Bikila and fellow Ethiopi 
had the answer to res people who make a point of finding ап Mamo Wolde (who won the Olym. 
case right there and they obstacles and overcoming them alone. ріс urathon in ame to America, 
do a thing about it, Jt really got Daws recognizes this: About опе of his û runners magazine ran an editorial: 
me furious. losest competitors, he says, "I can't fig. 


ure it out. 
and gentle. 


I don't like new things. People 
ask me, "Why don't you buy a 


He seems so genuinely mild 


er dine bros ed o ad 


in and rest. . 


Т < -< “Why 


new car?” b don't want a new cir, — there somewhere, or he couldn't drive “ouldn't he win?” the runners said 
Гус got a Ford I bought for S60 himself the way he does. of Wolde. If Pete McArdle [an 
and Fm going to drive it until it ВЕ American Olympic marathoner] had 
integrate: Distance runners have the quali the same opportunity to train, he'd 
I can't understand this sports-fan Thornton Wilder ascribed to Amer. Show the Ethiopians something. . . - 
business. Who do those fat cocks cins: they are “lonely, insubmisiive and McArdle had worked 12 hours [as 


е. shou 
s? Most 


think they 
ar the play 


Bam 


Walker Anderson Alen Coben 


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PLAYBOY 


170 


GUIDANCE 
COUNSELLOR. 


“Well, Mary Beth, the results of your aptitude tests ате in 
and I'd like to be your first customer.” 


private preserve on which to train 
as did the Ethiopians. . . . He trains 
on city streets, running to and from. 
work, and takes an extra hour at 
lunch (without pay) so he can do 
some speed work. 


Daws gets some time off (without pay) 
to go to international meets, but he occa 
sionally becomes alarmed—maybe the 
next time they won't let him off—and he 
begins to mutter about seeing the gov- 
ior, about secing his Senator, about go- 
ing to the State Department if he has to. 

Although Americans say they respect 
the driving purity of sport, the only 
athletes they actually respect are school- 
age athletes, foreign athletes and rich 
athletes, IE а 35-year-old Ethiopi 
chooses to spend half his workday run- 
n h huge strides across the veld, 
then that is noble and pwc; it has an. 
ascetic alien beauty; besides, what else is 
there for an Ethiopian to do? But for a 
35-year-old American to run around fro- 
zen Takes and down hot alleys when he 
could be working at job advancement, 
ог even watching television—this is a 
h at propriety. It angers people. А 
young man who once worked with Daws 
was told about his making the 1968 
Olympic team. “Um,” said the young 
man without interest; and then, burst 
ing into fecling, “He must be crazy, just 
to run and run!” When Daws is run- 


E 


ning, people in cus give him the sort of 
smiles adults give cute children and d 
dren give dolls 
with 


When he is training 
lis friends, all of them wearing 
odds and ends, people be; 
questions or comments to them with, 
"Say, boys,” or "Hey, kids.” After а Bos- 
ton Marathon, a sportscaster at least six 
years younger than Daws kept calling him 
Ronnie during an interview, and after- 
ward said with patronizing enthusiasm, 
“There's a fine young man.” In return, 
reporters look fat and liverish to the rur 
ners, and people in cars look squashy, 
like Mongoloids on an asylum outing. "I 
hate fat" says Daws. “I can't stand fat 
people!" When he saw Alice's Restaurant, 
he was surprised to find Alice attractiv 
“That's the first overweight girl who's 
turned me on. 
One of the other Twin Cities Track 
Club members, a doctor, says, "Someone 
will yell at me when I'm running, and 
ГЇЇ look up to see some obese crock 
ng out his car window, and FIL 
You're starting to get old; youre 
overweight; FI sce you in cardiac 
emergency before long" " (He delivers 
his thought for the scoffing fatties like a 
curse: May you topple from your car 
and тогу 
The sam 


doctor declares, “My resting 
pulse is 44. 1 can’t have a heart attack. 
Irs impossible for me to have a heart 
auack!” And with a small sharp indirect. 
smile that implies 7 know I'm making 
a wild claim and ГИ admit it's wild i| 1 
have to, but, by God, it happened, he also 


informs you, “For 15 years, my wife and 
I wied to have children. Then I began 
running and we had two.” 

All the runners talk frequently about 
health. Says Daws, “The average Ameri- 
can cares more about his car than about 
his body. If his car gets dented, he takes 
it right to the shop. But when his stom- 
ach starts hanging out and his arteries 
start hardening. he doesn’t do a thing.” 
What Daws thinks the average American. 
should do. of course, is run. "I heard a 
doctor say that running just five miles a 
day could prevent heart attacks. Can 
you imagine what that would do for 
world health. if everyone ran just five 
miles a day? If my legs hold out, I'll still 
be running when I'm 100. 

Marathon runners are older than 
most athletes—Mamo Wolde was 37 
when he won in the Mexico Olympic— 
and it often seems that their main com- 
petition is not other runners, not even 
themselves (“You run because you want 
to see if you can do it?” says Daws; “you 
ant to see if you сап make yourself do 
it"); their main competition seems to be 
death. There is a challenge-to-the gods 
hopefulness about Dawss frequent de- 
scription of himself as “the world’s old- 

ing teenager"; there is a kind of 
propitiation in the runners’ regular bod- 
ily mortification along endless stretches 
of road. 

"The organizer of the A. A. U. № 
Marathon in Iowa, a balding, 


shyly 


gracious doctor with the face of a mild 


nd gentle Popeye, explains why he be- 
gan running: 

“Ten years ago, I was pou 
too hard. 1 developed coron: 
ciency with angina pectoris а 
heck of a time keeping my practice. My 
buddics—three of them—died in neigh- 
boring small towns of heart attacks and 
I thought I was next. About that t 
studied the autopsy reports of m: 
runners and without exception, they 
had developed extra-large coronary a 
teries. So I proceeded to marathize my 
heart, very slowly, and it worked, After 
ix or seven months, I couldn't. produce 


ding life 


pain in my chest with any emotion or 
exercise. Now I'm running ten miles 
every morning at 53 year 

This doctors particular hero—the 
hero of all the older runners—is а San 
Francisco waiter named Lamy Lewis 


Lewis holds a curious world's record: 
the 100-yaid dash for men over 100 
Fach day, before he goes to work, the 
105-year-old Lewis runs about seven 
miles through a local park. "I talked 
amy when he was 102," says the 
Iowa doctor. "He's taking care of his 
baby sister, who's about 85, "She's old!’ 
Larry said to me. "There are bedpans 
and wheelchairs. Those things arc for 
old people. I don't know anything about 
old people!” 
As the doctor said this, there was 
a dreamy, confident expression оп his 


mild face, One of the other runners had 
fused to comm 
meant to h 
nonrunner is 
а 12-year-old,” he'd snapped. Bur the 
doctor tried to expla 

"Running is such an inspiration, par- 
ticularly after six miles. My ten-mile 
trek is a jewel to me and cach d 
polish that jewel anew and it keeps the 
soul aglow with zest and creative ambi 
tion all the day, I don't see why the 
whole world isn't running’ 

His enthusiasm is reminiscent of a 
passage in a particular work of hope, 
book celebrating the rejuvenation of the 
Jehovah's Witnesses after Armageddon: 
“What if you knew that soon you would 
feel the wrinkles of age fade from your 
face and from the faces of your loved 
ones—as you watched the gray hairs 
vanish and felt the surge of perfect 
health invigorating your flesh with su- 
pernal youth?” Says Daws, “Other people 
get older and older, I get younger and 
younger.” 

But he knows that he will eventually 
begin to slow. In a recent race, he won 
the first-place trophy and the over30 
trophy. “That got me down,” he says. In 
another race, he was almost beaten by a 
high school boy. and nother he was 
beaten by an over-40 runner. "Young 
runners are coming up," he says, "old 

inners are coming up: everybody's com- 
ing up." Two months before his second 
place in the national championship 
lowa, he finished far back in the 1970 
Boston Marathon. "I came apart in the 
cold," he says. “I've never been so cold 
in my life. One of the guys passed a 
halffrozen Jap who was crawling down 
the road on his hands and knees.” The 
life went out of Dawss workouts until 
his wife suggested, “Maybe you're over 
the hill 

"That got me out the door!” He 
added three miles a day to his regula 
workout 

Daws never bei 
rt run a mile much 
could when he was at the University 
Minnesota. But after he graduated and 
began running on the roads, he found 
he could run close to his mile pace for 
up to ten miles. "I decided I'd never race 
farther than ten miles, because I thought 
longer races were unhealthy. Then I 
heard about someone—I forget who it 
was—who i 
thons. down 
When I hea 
tion of how soon I'd run a marathon 

Five and a half minutes to the mile is 
about two hours and 24 minutes for the 
marathon. Daws's fist marathon took 
him two hous and 40 minutes. After six 
nd 30,000 miles of training, hc 
brought that down to two hours and 20 
minutes, But that was no longer a f 
tastic time; it was skilled-workman time 

(continued on page 174) 


171 


AL GOLDSTEIN and 
JIM BUCKLEY the screw two 


FEVER, historians begin search- 
ing through musty archives to recon- 
struct the great campaigns and battles 
of the sexual revolution, Al Gold- 
stein and Jim Buckley may finally 
з their longsought place in pub- 
ishing history as the founders of 
Screw, the world’s first and the coun- 
ys most successful no-holesbarred 
sex tabloid. Screw hit New York news- 
stands in November 1968 with the 
raunchiest pictures and features ever 
to possess redeeming social value. 
That the “Screw Two” have thus far 
stayed out of jail is largely due to 
their publication's display of wit, 
agination and an editorial person 
ty that mocks its own contents and 
bout its excesws—a calculated 
ion of outrageousness, put-on 
and pur-down that has added up to a 
weekly of about 90.000. 
98, from Lowell, Massachu- 
^ himself as a devout 
Пос anaLretentively unable to 
outgrow his adolescent obsession with 
sex. Goldstein, 36. stoutly denies he is 
a repressed Jewish boy fom Brook- 
lyn and а closet puritan. “Radiating 
prurience, spittle dribbling from our 
chins, we labor cach day in the sweat 
shop of sex to subvert morality i 
America. At least that's our offici: 
story. We have an i 
Goldstein takes ive credit for 
ng Screw “The World's Great 


est Ne * explaining that Buck- 
ley is an illiterate Irish pea 
still a v Buckley says 0 


lust-crazed sexual deviant 
who must be given а pound of raw 
liver each day and locked up cach 
night.” Predictably, both claim 10 be 
the godfather of their latest venture, 
Mobster Times, which may do for 
crime what Screw has done for sex. 
Mobster revels in the pornography of 
jolence, commemorating great old 
‚ promoting new ones and gen- 
ceed the bounds of 
good taste, Regular features include 
"Miss Underworld,” “Cı 
“This Month in Crim 
lishing offense are Goldstein and Buck- 
ley plotting next? "Well," says Buckley, 
“we've thought about combining the 
best of both worlds in Sex Crimes.” 


a 
erally suiv 


MARION EDEY friend of the carth 


IN THE SUMMER OF 1970, а thick, stinging smog settled over the 
East Coast and environmentalisis—plus everyone else who tried 
to breathe—bemoaned this latest ecological disaster. All but 
Marion Edey, chairman of the League of Conservation Voters, 
a nonpartisan political group that raises money for conserva- 
tion-minded candidates. “The league was working to defeat 
Baltimore Congressman George Fallon, the man most respon- 
sible for allocating funds to build the interstate highway 
system, and the smog—much of it produced by automobile 


nization in 1969, q nt to a Congressman 
from her home district on Long Island. “After seeing how the 
Hill worked, it seemed to me an effective way to work for 
conservation was by helping environmentally concerned candi- 


dates.” The league focuscs its efforts on key campaigns but 
publicizes all races by publishing charts showing how legislators 
vote on ecological issues, It has also published a book, Nixon 


and the Environment: The Politics of Devastation, outlining 
the Administration's mostly dismal record on conservation. 
Clearly, Miss Edey would prefer a McGovern victory, but adds, 
"He's been running for President so long he doesn’t really 
have a conservation voting record." Marion is literally married 
to the cause: Her husband, Joseph Browder ("We met while 
fighting against a chemical plant in South Carolina”), heads a 
Washington lobbyist organization, the Environmental Policy 
Center, Both of them see the destruction of natural resources as 
an enduring issue. “People may forget about it in а few years,” 
Marion says, “but when a killer smog knocks olf 5000 people in 
Los Angeles, it'll be an issue again. Meanwhile, there's more 
rhetoric than action, Politicians like to cloud the issue.” Which 
is why Marion Edey will continue her work to clear the air. 


RON LEIBMAN acing up 


“SOMETIMES it's hard to believe it's me up there. It’s really 
weird, but once in a while it hits me: Wow! I'm the 
movics—and I giggle like a dumbo." So speaks Ron Leibman, 
33. the funny, candid. serious actor who—wearing а gorilla 
suit—raped a Central Park cop in his first film, Where's 
Poppa?, stole the show as the getaway driver in The Hot Rock, 
then went on to star in Slaughterhouse-Five (which recently 
жоп top honors at the Cannes film festival) and the soon-to-be- 
released Your Three Minutes Are Up. It all began when he 
was a kid: “My parents were kind of wealthy and they used 
to go to resort hotels where I got up and sang, obnoxious 
child that T was, with the orchestra—not for money or 
anything but just because I loved to perform.” Leibman 
(who also played jazz drums for a while) could have been a 
ight-club performer or a musical-comedy actor but chose “ 
der route, because I wanted to tap the deepest things in 
myself.” He split college during his junior year and spent five 
repertory seasons doing Chekhov, Molière, Beckett and Shake- 
speare. Then, in a Springfield, Massachusetts, motel room, he 
tuned in on the Academy Awards and decided to set out to w 
опе himself: n't necessarily a dirty capitalist word. 
Success can also be joy—without compromise. If you care about 
your work, you're always afraid someone will make a whore 
out of you. But only you can make a whore out of you." Back 
in New York, he played in a lot of off-Broadway productions 
and a few on the big street. One play, John Guare’s Cop-Oul, 
enabled him to find a wile, costar Linda Lavin; another, 
Transfers, won him the Obie award (one of several prizes he 
collected in those years) and, when his old friend George Segal 
brought Carl Reiner to see him, his cinema gig. After that, 
as Leibman says, “things just cooked." He'd like to return to 
New York, but he claims films are in better shape today than. 
the theater. With Leibman in the movies, it's probably true. 


173 


PLAYBOY 


174 


LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER (continued from page 171) 


Americans had run 2:14, 2:12, 2:11 mara- 
thons; and an Australian named Derek 
Clayton, a man as big as Daws, had set 
the new criterion for fantastic time: 26 
miles, 385 yards in two hours and cight 
and a half minutes—an average of 4:54 
minutes to the mile. 

“I don’t have much natural talent,” 
says Daws. "Every time I've done well, 
it's been a surprise.” But, as he some- 
times admits, he has not been all that 
surprised. Runners have sprinted off, 
beaten him regularly by three, five, six 
minutes; then the next ycar or the year 
after that or the year after that, they 
һауе had tendon problems, sciaticnerve 
problems: they have taken new jobs and 
not had time to train; they have begun 
graduate school, or to enjoy parties, or 
to play golf, or simply to age. Some still 
follow him in by 10 or 15 minutes in 
races every year; others have quit run- 
ning completely. "I have mixed feelings 
when a good runner quits training,” he 
says. “It might put me a step ahead, but 
it's something gone hom the game.” 

To win his trophies and his wi he 
has had to beat faster runners while they 
were still in their prime. One of the 
men he beat in the Olympic trials would 
not run with him in practice. "You're 
the man said, “you just plod.” 
How Daws has managed to beat him 
and others even faster might be ex- 
plained partly by his heat training and 
putly by this letter written by a three- 
time Olympian 10 a runners’ journal: 


Tam a newcomer in U.S.A... . 
and I cannot understand! Why are 


you so happy when a marathon 
course is very hilly and tough? Have 
you so many Sadists? ... Why do the 
Japanese, Koreans, New Zealanders, 
Finns, ctc., in Kosice, Turku, Tokyo, 
cC, so often run below 2:20 and 
so many runners under 2:80 in 
one race? Because they seek а flat— 
nice—coursel Every organizer takes 
trouble that in his race the runners 
run a very good time! Why not in 
U.S. A? ... What you have, when 
your country sends three men to 
‘Tokyo in 1964, are mountain climb- 
cm. The course in Tokyo is very 
flat. These three men have mot 
enough speed for a fast race (for a 
tempo race). Understanding? 

I heard the U.S. marathon Cham- 
pionship could be in Holyoke! Oh 
wonder! With their big mountain 
on the last mile—do you want inter- 
nationalists or several dead men? 
Maybe they also have very hot 
weather. 15 it not possible? . . . Is it 
not cnough to ran 26 miles? . . . It 
must also be with mountains. . . . 
Bring not the marathon runner car- 

1 the gravel 

For last summer's Olympic trials in 
Oregon, there was a "flat nice cours 
Under a warm evening sun, 100 mara- 
thoners drcded the stadium while the 
crowd cheered: Then the bright mass of 
iners poured through the north gate 
the plum trees and 
groves and hot asphalt roads outside 
Eugene. Behind them, amateur athletes 


mboo 


“God, Stanley! I just had a thought as to where 


your contact lens could ре... ! 


continued a professional show. Black 
sprinters, hushed and powerful as steam 
turbines, flashed in packs around the 
turns; a high jumpers nylon suit 
swished ferociously as he stretched 
though his slow-motion warm-up baller: 
hammer throwers snapped their horse 
rumps forward as they bounced out of 
their releasing whirl and sent missiles 
arcing two thirds the length of a foot- 
ball field. 

On the first mile of the marathon, 
in the city near the stadium, Daws head 
his time: five minutes, 21 seconds. He 

ай been aiming for 5:20 and was 
pleased. This pace, which he had main- 
tained for long distances several times in 
race training, would give а twohou 
20-minute marathon, which he felt could 
put him on the Munich team, The pack 
was thinning. Many faster runners had 
pulled out of sight and lengthened their 
lead. But for some—two-milers, 5000- and 
10,000-meter men—this was only the sec 
ond or third marathon of their lives. It 
was Шам 20th and he knew that most 
of the carly leaders would fade, drop 
back, drop out—or push until they were 
senseless. "You remember that race 
where that guy began running in circles 
after nine miles?" Daws had laughed to 
someone while they were checking in. 

“Ycah,” said the other runner, "and 
that race where the guy veered off the 
course and ran up a railroad embank- 
ment 

With his white painter's cap, with his 
muscular, choppy stride, Daws ran com- 
fortably through ten miles. Pleased at 
the way the race was going, even his 
anger toward A. A. U. officials was lading. 
“They give themselves fancy uips—big 
boondoggles on jet planes—then claim 
they don't have the money to send ath- 
Jetes anywhere.” 

Dawss trip had been anything but 
fancy. His $60 car had disintegrated and 
he had been embarrassed that friends 
had chipped in for his fare to Oregon. 
То save a few dollars, he had hitchhiked 
the 100 miles from Portland to Eugene. 
Not having the money to stay in the 
athletes’ dorms or to eat the athlete 
meals (“Christ It's four dollars a meal 
other competitors told him), he was lucki 
ly акеп in by a family in a nearby town. 
And a few minutes before the marathon, 
an ollicial had tried to keep him out of 
the stadium. "You've got no athlete's 
pass," said the official. 

“Look,” sud Daws, “I've got on my 
tack suit, Куе gor on my number, 1 
don't need my athlete's pass. Its in my 
bag in my room. I've got to get in there 
and run!" He considered slugging the 
official and sprinting for the track, but 
intense talking and identification by oth- 
er athletes finally got him through. 

While a mild brecze fluried the 
back-road trees and boys on bikes cut in 
and out among the runners, Moses May- 
field, the only black in the marathon 


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176 


and the leader at five miles, began to 
slow: eventually, he would quit. At a 
t near Eugene, at least ten runners 
ed off the course and trotted toward. 
town. Others, their exhaustion and 
gauntness giving them the look of war 
prisoners, had collapsed in the official 
jeep. In all, 39 competitors would drop 
Most of the runners still on the 
course carried a film of sweat so thick it 
resembled mucus. 

At 18 miles, Daws's right foot began 
to hurt, "I'd shaved some rubber off my 
soles to save weight, but I shaved off too 
much. I thought the foot was going to 
burn up.” And he began to get sick— 
something he'd never done before in a 
e. (His running friends knew him as 
the only marathoner in the world who 
could cat a pizza, then race the next 
day.) His pace slowed; while some of 
the leaders dropped behind him, other 
runners passed him. At about two hours, 
15 minutes, when the two leaders were 
coming into the stadium side by side, 
headed for Munich, insisting on а 
че, cach refusing а first or second place, 
Daws got diarrhea and had to duck 
behind a tree. "You should ve seen 
them come by—runner runner 
alter runner.” When he got onto the 
course again, he spotted a friend sitting 
with a blonde on a grassy hill “You 
can't know how 1 was tempted to just 
stop and sit there with you," he told the 
friend later. "I knew the race was over 
for me, but I had learned from the 
Japanese—that Japanese who was crawl- 
ing down the road at Boston—that you 


се man finished at two 
hours, 20 minutes, the time Daws had 
bcen aiming at, the time he calculated 
might place him on the team. At 2: 


ten minutes later, Daws crosed the 
line. He looked heavy, awkward and 
slow. "He did look like a mountain 
climber,” said a spectator who had seen 


the bring-not-the-marathon-runner earlier 
in-thegrave letter. Daws put on his warm- 
up suit and climbed into the roofless 
athletes’ grandstand (athletes weren't 
allowed in the reserved-seat section), 
where he began taking pictures of 
the 5000-meter racc between George 


Young, who, like Daws, was 35 years old, 
and a brilliantly fas young runner 
named Steve Prefontaine. Young pushed 
Prefontaine 10 onc of the fastest 5000 
meters ever run, After the race, Prefon- 
taine stayed on the track, taking a 
few laps, waving at the crowd, signing 
autographs, talking with the small boys, 
the teenaged girls, the track fans who 
clustered about him. And, the sun 
became dim over the wildflower-filled 
graveyard behind the stadium, Daws, 
one of the last athletes on the field, 
moved with the edge of Prefontaine's 
crowd. He carried his U.s.A. OLYMPIC TEAM. 
bag and wore a wistful outsider's smile. 
A fat, бйз man stopped him. "Do you 
go to the University of Minnesota 
snapped Daws. "Twelve years 
ago, 1 did." 

"Well, I went to Moorhcad State Col- 
legc. Can 1 take your picture? 

“Why take my picture? I'm nobody. 
Take her picture.” Daws pointed to a 
nearby reporter. Then he relented, with- 
out losing more than a trace of his 
surliness. “Well, I suppose my picture is 
better than a picture of that black line 
over there. 

“It must have been tough,” 
man, Daws glared after 
he left. 


id the 
dolefully as 


Ba 
NPER 
Edo? 

rfrees 


""There must be some mistake. I wished for a 
gooseberry pie like Mother used to make." 


“There'll be other races,” said onc of 
Daws's friends, “there'll be other trips. 

"I don't know," said Daws, "I don't 
know if there will.” 

Toward dawn, Daws was drinking 
fruit wine, as much wine as he had ever 
drunk in his life, with friends. All were 
from Minnesota, One was a young 
teacher who had finished almost 20 
places ahead of Daws and whom Daws 
had helped train. “Christ,” said the 
teacher, as he soaked his fect in а pan of 
hot water, “I feel like a bag of smashed 


sholes!” He tumed to Daws. Ever 
since I was a kid, it’s been Шал] 
Daws! Daws! When I was а sopho- 
more in high school 1 went to an all- 


comers meet and all of us were saying: 
‘We've got to beat Ron Daws And 
here you are, still at it, When are you 
going to quit" 

Daws was not amused. 

The next day, in an airport snack 
shop. Daws talked with a runner. "Wh 
don't you retire, Daws?” he asked, “It'd 
be a good thing for the rest of us if you 
did. 

"I've heard rumors that Abebe Bikila 
was actually 41 when he won in the 
Tokyo Olympics,” said Daws, as he fin- 
ished off his milk shake. 

When he got home, he went out for a 
Joosening-up jog. A day or two later, he 
was running fas miles in a park m. 
his home, “It’s a tough park—steep hills, 
uneven ground, and I was taking more 
than half a minute off the fastest mile 
I had ever run there. I'm really feeling 
good! 


Sure he will not be brought earlier to 
the grave, half convinced his 
will keep him vigorous at 100 and be- 
yond, Daws is out running tonight. If it 
is raining, be is running in the rain; if 
it is snowing, he is running in the snow. 
He is running toward the next major 
засе to which he can afford a ticket, 
toward the Anoka Pumpkin Festi 
mile open, toward the Mud Ball four 
one-halEmiler in the flower gardens near 
his home, toward the 1976 Olympic t 
toward his 100th birthday. Every year he 
runs half the annual mileage of the aver- 
age car 

Occasionally he runs up 
hill a few miles from his house. "There's 
a family on the hill,” he says. “and I've 
gotten to know everybody in it. I know 
where they all sit at dinner; 1 can tell 
when one of the kids is eating some- 
where else; I've seen them arguing: Гуе 
seen them laughing. Sometimes it’s 20 
below when I go by, and I'm slogging 
through a foot of new snow. I wonder 
what they'd think if they found out 
about me. I don't suppose they'd believe 
it, They'd never believe there was some- 
one out there running on their hill.” 


nd down a 


© 1972-n.s.neynotos товассо co. 


]Tothe56,000000 


people who smoke 
cigarettes. 


A lot of people have been telling you not to smoke, especially cigarettes with 
high 'tar and nicotine. But smoking provides you with a pleasure you don't want 
togiveup. 

Naturally, we're prejudiced. We're in the business of selling cigarettes. 

But there is one overriding fact that transcends whether you should or 
shouldn't smoke and that fact is that you do smoke. 

And whatare they going to do about that? 

"They can continue to exhort you not to smoke. Or they might look reality 
in the faceand recommend that, if you smoke and want low ‘tar’ and nicotine 
inacigarette, you smokea cigarette like Vantage. 

And well goalong with that, because there is no other cigarette like Vantage. 
Except Vantage 

Vantage ee a unique filter that allows rich flavor 
tocome through it and yet substantially cuts down 
on ‘tar’ and nicotine. | 

Not that Vantage is the lowest ‘tar’ and nicotine | 
cigarette. (But you probably wouldnt like the lowest | 
‘tar’ and nicotine cigarette anyway.) | 

Theplain truth is that smokc has to VANTAGE 
come through a filter if taste is to come 
through a filter. And where there is taste 
there has to be some ‘tar.’ 

But Vantage is the only cigarette that 
gives you so much flavor with so little ‘tar’ 
and nicotine. 

So much flavor that you'll never miss 
your high ‘tar’ cigarette. 


— 
VANTAGE | 


Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined 


Filter: 12 mg.“tar”,0.9 mg. nicotine, 
That Cigerette Smoking ls Dangercus toYour Health. Menthol: 11 mg "tar", 0.8 mg. nicotine—av. per cigarette, FIC Report Apr. 72. 


177 


178 


chameleon (онш Iron page 132) 


ble—blasted, ha, are no Fa- 
And you are VIRES for that! If 
меге, I would fuck you here! 


you 
Right here! 
As the bouncer, bigger than any Arab 


pecs, biceps 
dose, Bebert 


or Jew, by any criteri 
forearms, body—came 
jumped out the door. 
That woman, like many Europeans, i 
unfair to darker people, he declared 
violently to himself, and flaked off. It 
ing items that Bebert was 


was only at sel 


sophisticated. 
Bebat was strongly amiArab for 
good reasons. He had been beaten and 


reviled many times in Morocco. In Fès, 
his father had owned a small restaurant 
in which he served very good couscous, 
couscous that was splattered on the walls 
when the local jokesters wanted crucl 
fun. They would come into the resta 
rant, order, eat half, yal, "Poison! Pe 


The Jew has poisoned 
at their throats, dance, twist their faces 
into strange shapes—like only Arabs c 
do—then fan the walls—just-cleaned 
walls, always justeleaned walls—with 
rice, meat and vegetables. “We do not 
pay for poison,” they declared, 
Bebert's father and mother ren: 
Fes, and so had to cont 
this torture. 

In the old city of Jerusalem, where 
Bebert was now respected (first, because 
he was a conqueror, or at least а dark 
cousin of conquerors; and second, be- 
cause he could speak the language and 
being, in a way, a cousin, too, of the 
conquered, he knew the habits and 
therefore would know il he were being 
cursed or anything else), the Arabs said, 
“Salaam, Bebert, salaam,” friendly, re- 
spectfully. But once, when he tossed 
hummus and tahina and shashlik and 
baba ghanoush all over the walls of a 
highly esteemed Arab restaurant, he wa 


eal li. 


CHICKE 


“They discovered the identity of those eleven 
secret herbs and spices.” 


whipped as soundly as he had ever been 
whipped in Fès. And the hashish that he 
had carried in his shirt pocket to sell to 
Americans, French, English and other 
то kids was missing alter the 
beating. So they had taken his livelihood 
—for the hashish would have brought 
him at least $300—and had spread the 
word of brutal unwelcome, And since 
the old city was where one (he was not 
n educated Jew and was not even like 
those educated Jews even in simple mat- 
ters—such as how you walk down the 
эиес Шаг did not seem to have much 
to do with education, and thercfore he 
would not be like them even if he were 
ble to be a lawy 
doctor or a civil servant) made 
contact for hashish and gambled at cards 
and pocket billiards, Bebert was denied 
his good living, equivalent almost to 
that of many Israeli lawyers, a large 
mount of which he had sent home to 
his oppressed parents and another large 
mou 
ing on women. His working capital— 
English, French. Spanish, Arabic and 
Hebrew—was going to waste, And that's 
why he left the Holy Land for opportu 
nities in America. 


educated and were 
or 


t of which he was used to spend- 


lillae, 
ès he'd bought а new one, an 
You don't need а c 
much less a Cadillac, in New York. You 
got the subways. You got good legs. D 
thought Isaclis were tough," with “4 
a beautiful car, a. Cadillac is PY 
for women, no?” and drove to the hab- 
erdashery every day honking, waving, 
calling, “Heyba and keeping an 
eye out for girl hitchhikers. Parking, 
vandalizing (hubcaps, anten- 
na, wipers, Dagmar bumpers) and 
cost him a fortune. So did his color-TV. 
console, which he ended up in front of 
by ten o'clock every ni; 

I have a niece . . ."; "My d 
ЗА friend of dhe family’s 

"T know 'ihis nice young. girl: very re 
fined . - - ,” said the older people. 

“I don't know,” said Bebert, winking, 
“I have more than I can handle now. 
Some ladies’ man," the older people 
believing he really was. How could a 
nice young man they admired so not be? 

"Speaks five languages. 

“Fought the Arabs in Sis 

“Decorated.” 

“A go getter as a salesman.” 

"Have you seen that car? 
No monkey business like with kids 
today.” 

Studying to be a physicist." 

Some ladies’ man.” 

Bebert knows wh 


Bebert bought a used 1964 


wrote 


swered Drexson's 


yseven." 


c he's going." 


andy Drexson, 21, skinny, history m 
jer. prodded by her father, had а party 
and invited Bebert. "He's greasy," she 


warned friends, “but he is from the 
Middle East and could be interesting." 
She's skinny, thought. Bebert, but she 
has girlfriends, 
Bebert showed up weari 


g a madras 


shirt tha ad a high, wide col a 
isley tie broad as Arab bread and a 

e suit cut at the , but- 
tons and lapels im the newest fashion 


(the same outfit he had put on not long 
before to have his photograph 
arti 
owed, somber background tl 
in the white suit. look 
dressed to meet the Americ 
The photograph was for sending to his 
parents in Morocco. And that—the sheik 
—was what they said he looked 
Bebert walked up the Drexsons' drive- 
way. leading with his chest. lil 
hi 


claimed 
He was escorted by 
whose flat rear was drowned in 


saggy plaid-patched seat of her jeans. Up 
top, she wore a T-shirt and mo bra. 
Bebert saw jiggling, discounted the inad 
cquacy of her rear and was momentarily 
glad he had come. 
Everybody che 
Sandy's. 
reaky,” somebody said upon seeing 
Bebert. 
“I guess he wants a Schweppes . . . 
Schwe pp 
Somebody called him Commander and 
he said, "Huh?" 
Sandy said, “This is Bebert. Bebert is 


wore clothes like 


id a girl who said she'd 
‘All the hippies live in 


E 
. My home is Jaffa, 


"Right. The Jaffa orange. 


“Big export, тїзїш?” 


cuse?” said Bebert. 
port, as in inten 
Like diamonds, man. 
“Yes,” said Bebert, clueless. He grabbed 
for familiar ground. ppics are a 
luxury. We do not need them in Israel.” 
worked well at the 
keep us from build 

"Right. Like with exports... 
tional exchange.” 

"s about it, isn't it, Bebert? 

citrus and diamonds. Right? 
butz is certainly not self-support- 

. + I mean, compared with the 
айга 

“I am preparing to study physics” A 
sideuack, a declaration, an excuse for 
i сс. 
silence. 


1 exchange? 


interna- 


“Harry, you startled me!” 


“When will the Palestinians be al- 
lowed back, given rights, citizenship?" 

“The Arabs! 1 
Bebert, looking like a sheik, thought 
better, blushed, ate pretzels and crossed 
his legs and uncrossed them and went to 
the bathroom for breathers wh 
shards of conversation sliced a 


fall wes us 


revolution 
iation," 


narginal 
ng expectation 


‘superstructure 


“expat 
frastructum 
Шу, the dreaded question landed. 
what do you think?” 

As he had in the bar, Bebert saw only 
eyes—Arab eyes. He flexed muscles and, 
though his stomach did not want him 
to, smiled broadly, saying, “I have an 
almost-new Cadillac. I like jazz music, 
Who wants to ride?” 

Laughs, smiles and subsequent obscu- 
rity drove Bebert into the wall with the 
force of а giant's shov 

Words like Palestini: 
gitimate and self-determination beat with 
the sound of drums, cracked into Bebert's 
skull, hurt, did not penetrate but blocked 
the exit from the tomb. 

Words like pigs, stink, filthy and cunt 
burst out from between his dark lips, his 
white teeth, with a force too 
e to await translation from the 
Arabic, as if they had traveled 7000 


ation, 


ns, liberation, le- 


miles to tear through Sandy Dr 
party. They called there, to the West, to 
challenge humiliation. 

had fled—likc Arabs in 
le a point of observing) 
moked good Moroccan hash- 
ish and got very, very stoned. 


со: Cadillac, 
igined smoking hashish cooled 
by a water pipe; he imagined smoking 
in a cool, damp room, bubbles echoing 
off stone, lost irretrievably behind the 
maze of corridors, the p: nt of filth and 
shredded rags, the vault of crumbled 
steps and roofs, the safety of custom and 
nd time that were the old city ol 
Jerusalem, that were Jaffa, that were Fès, 

On the corner of 81st and First, a 
black woman, с black women—in 
blonde wig, skirt snapped tight to sk 
presented loaves of thigh and breast to 
dark curlyhaived man driving an apri. 
cot Cadillac. 

He wheeled to the curb, leaned over, 
opened the door for her to slide in, said. 
“I am Arab. Palestinian! Our people 
have much in common. Would you like 


iving home in hi 


un 


some shi? I have a nice apartment 
around the corner." 

When he touched her, he said his 
name was Muhammad. 


179 


180 


GOLF BALL! 


You've heard of the vintage of 

the century and the child of the 
century; now comes the ultimate 
—a Super Golf Tour of the Cen- 
tury, being offered by Sport- 
Tours, Inc., of Woodside, New 
York, that leaves in late October by 
chartered 727 from Manhattan 

on a fourcontinent journey 

in search of par. Pro host Paul 
Hahn has mapped a 35,000-mile 
course that allows 65 masochists 

to tee off on 18 of the world's 
most challenging golf courses, 
including ones in Málaga, Cape- 
town, Nairobi, Colombo, 
Singapore, Sydney, Auckland 
and Honolulu. While off the 
links, you'll stay at top hotels, 
sample superb cuisine and be 
tended to by seven lovely 
stewardesses. Thirty-two 

days later, your Trans Inter- 
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back in New York. The price 
for the junket is $8795 and, if 
that's no handicap, you and 64 
other guys are up. 


DOUBLE, DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE 


‘Tum to the rental columns in your local Yellow Pages and you'll discover 
that you can borrow just about anything your little heart could 

desire, from furnace vacuums to attack-trained Doberman pinschers. So 
now a New York occultist organization, Psychic Dimensions Inc., has 
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witch. William Danielle, the president of P. D. I., hastens to add that these 
are white witches, and he's not referring to the color of their skin. 

Some of his occultists, in fact, are spellbindingly good-looking as well 

as being whizzes at tarot cards, palm reading, numerology and astrology. 
Rental prices for 
these specialized skills 
vary, depending on 
whether you're hiring 
one of his little ladies 
for a business promo- 
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up a party. Either 
way, you provide the 
eye of newt. 


PLAYBOY POTPOURRI 


people, places, objects and events of interest or amusement 


WATCH NEW 


OK, so you really want the correct time 
without calling the nearest planetarium? 
Wal, Laykin et Cie jewelers is now 
selling a digital wristwatch computer, 
‘The Pulsar, which blinks the exact hour, 
minute and second at the push of a 

tiny button. Inside this minimarvel 

are power cells and a quartz crystal 

that vibrates $2,768 times per second. 
Priced at about $2100 in ап 18-kt. gold 
case, it sure ain't Mickey Mouse. 


WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT, 
BUTLEY? 


A day in the life of Ben Butley: Your 
estranged wile asks for a divorce, your male 
roommate takes а young lover and bleak 
disillusionment with life as a London Eng- 
lish professor who can’t write his book 

fills your very soul. How to cope? By 
assaulting the world’s damnable achievers 
with an unending flow of cruelly funny 
put-downs. Butley, a caustic comedy 
starring Alan Bates, comes from London to 
Broadway's Morosco Theater on October 31. 


MAKING ORDER 
OUT OF MAIL ORDER 


Sometimes, the logical thing isn't done until 
somebody thinks of it. If that sounds a trifle 
Professor Irwin Corcyish, it's only because 
we've just received word that Random House is 
publishing The Catalog of Catalogs: The 
Complete Guide to World-Wide Shopping by 
Mail, early this fall. Author Maria Elena de la 
Iglesia, an avid mail-order shopper, compiled 
the ten-dollar book after having one “Oh, 
where did you get that spectacular Queen Anne 
padfoot table?" conversation too many. What 
she has done is to collect hundreds of overscas 
sources that sell their wares by mail—almost 
always with the aid of an illustrated pamphlet 
and/or a price list—and arrange them by 
categories, detailing best buys and items to 
avoid and including capsulized histories of 

the firms. We'll take one. 


THE OLD SOFT SHOE 


A last, a solution for the problem of non- 
matching socks—no socks. A firm called Willie 
Loman & Sons (with a low bow to Arthur 
Miller) is marketing Bare Foot Gear: 
supercomfortable shoes, sneakers and boots, 
crafted of padded leather, that are designed to 
be worn sans socks. Prices range from $21 

to $55 for a pair of the Big Madre boots shown 
below, Alf Powers, founder of the firm, 

claims that perspiration-resistant properties 
are tanned into the leather, 

making the sockless concept a shoc-in. 


HOT FOOD 


Once ироп а time, candles came in two shapes—skinny and fat. 
But now there's a seemingly unlimited number of ways to let 
little lights shine, including wax effigies of various 

A Manhattan candle store, Bailiwick, has come out with a full- 
course dinner of realistic-looking foodstuffs, including a plate of 
spaghetti, a cheeseburger, French fries, corn on the cob and even 
a banana split. Prices range from four to ten dollars and some 
сусп small like the real McCoy—but the taste is something else! 


DRIVE, HE DID 


He was world champion five 

inning Grand Pri 

ance, England, Gi 
many, Monaco and Argentina. 
He's been called the greatest 

er of all time and now Gio- 
vanni Volpi, a Venice Film 
Festival founder, is producing a 
film on his life. His name is 
Juan Fangio and in Fangio, to 
be released this month, movie- 
gocrs will sce this legend of the 
Forties and Fifties circuits race 
in a number of his winning 
ncluding the 1955 Mille 

Miglia Mercedes. Ride on. 


DOING THE DIRTY OLD THING 


In case you didn't know, under the 1899 Refuse Act, anyone 
polluting our nation's waters without permission (how's that for 
buie ic double talk?) is subject to criminal prosecution 

4 a $500 to $2500 fine. Better yet, if you play stool 
pigeon and rat on the offender, you eventually get to split 
the take with Uncle Sam. To get your own do-it-yourself 
fink kit, contact your local U. S. Attorney's office and ask for 
its "Citizen Investigation Guidelines” brochure. As for the money, 
we've no doubt you'll donate it to a good cause—like ecology. 


181 


PLAYBOY 


182 


pasa plus (continucd from page 125) 


plenty of sweet butter, salt and pepper 
and parmesan cheese, But let's press on 
to sauces, each of which serves four, 


TOMATO MEAT SAUCE 


2 links hot Italian sausage 

4 tablespoons butter 

2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced 

1 large onion, grated 

1 Ib. hamburger 

1 21b. can peeled Italian plum toma- 

toes 

1 small can tomato sauce. 

Salt, black pepper 

Freshly grated parmesan cheese 

1 1b. spaghetti, cooked 

Remove the skin from the sausage, 
mash the meat with a fork. Heat the 
butter in a skillet, add the sausage and 
garlic and stir with a fork until well 
cooked. Add the grated onion, cook 
briefly, then add the hamburger, mash it 
with a fork and cook until its color has 
turned. 


Now pour over all the tomatocs and 
tomato sauce. Slice the whole tomatoes 
in pieces, add 1 teaspoon salt and a 
good grind of black pepper. Combine 
thoroughly. 


Let the sauce simmer for at Teast an 
hour over the lowest hi 
Serve with parmesan cheese. 


MEAT SAUCE (FROM BOLOGNA) 


6 strips bacon 

2 medium onions, finely chopped 

3 Ib. hamburger 

1 tablespoon butter 

14 Ib. chicken livers, chopped 

2 ripe tomatoes, peeled and chopped 

114 cups beef consommé 

Freshly grated parmesan cheese 

1 Ib. spaghetti, cooked 

In a large skillet. fry the bacon, and 
when it is done, remove and drain on 
paper. Pour off half the bacon grease 

nd in what remains cook the onions 
until they arc soft, then push them aside 
and cook the hamburger, mashing it 
with a fork until it is browned. This 
accomplished, push the hamburger 
aside, add the butter and cook the chick- 
en livers briefly—until they have lost 
their pink, 

Add the tomatoes, combine all the 
ingredients well and add the beef con- 
sommé. 

This must cook at a very slow simmer 
for at least an hour. 

Serve with parmesan cheese. 


“Her mother and I say it’s an unnatural act—that’s 


who says it’s an unnatural act.” 


PLAIN TOMATO SAUCE 


6 tablespoons butter 

6 large ripe tomatoes, peeled, cored and 

coarsely chopped 

6 leaves fresh basil 

1 sweet Italian onion, chopped 

Salt, black pepper 

Freshly grated parmesan cheese 

1 Ib. spaghetti, cooked 

In a skillet, melt 4 tablespoons butter, 
add the tomatoes and basil, reduce heat 
and gently cook for about 15 minutes. 

Meanwhile, in another skillet, melt 
the remaining 2 tablespoons butter, add 
the onion and cook gently until it has 
softencd, then add the tomatoes, com- 
binc, add a good dash of salt and a gen- 
cious grind of black pepper and simmer 
for 5 minutes. 

Serve with parmesan cheese. 


WHITE CLAM SAUCE 


24 cherry stone clams 

и cup olive oil 

3 cloves garlic, pecled 

1% cups clam juice 

у cup chopped Italian parsley 

Black pepper 

1 Ib. spaghetti, cooked 

Cracked red pepper 

Have your fish dealer open the clams; 
make sure he saves all the juice for you. 
Have him discard the shells. At home, 
with scissors or a sharp knife, cut the 
clams in four. Measure the juice and if 
you don’t have 114 cups, add what you 
need from bottled clam juice. 

In an enamel pot, heat the olive oil, 
add the garlic and fry until brow: 
move with a slotted spoon and discard. 

Add the clam juice, parsley and a 
good grind of black pepper, bring to a 


brisk boil, then add the clams. Do not 
cook the dams for more than half a 
minute; otherwise, you will toughen 
them, 


heat- 


Serve the spaghetti in individu 
ed bowls and ladle the sauce over it. 
Pass a shaker of cracked red pepper. 


MUSSEL SAUCE 


4 dozen mussels 

1 onion, chopped 

1 clove garlic, minced 

2 stalks celery, chopped 

1 cup water 

Salt, pepper 

2 cups dry white wine 

34 cup black olives, sliced 

1 Ib. spaghetti, cooked 

1⁄4 cup finely chopped parsley 
Freshly grated parmesan cheese 
Scrub the musscls well with a wire 

brush. Di a 

large pot, pl 

water, a dash of salt and a gr 

pepper. Let u ner for 10 or 15 

minutes, then add the mussels and the 

wine, Bring to a boil and cook until all 

the mussels have opened. 
Remove the mussels; 


discard the 


Saab vs.Volvo 


1972 Volvo 144 E, 4-door 


ein Design 4 cylinders, in-line, water-cooled 
Мара онаа Overhead Сат. . - -No 
95 hp (SAE) at 5200 rpm. . Maximum Engine Output . 125 hp (SAE) at 6000 rpm. 
113.1 cubic inches. Displacement - -121 cubic inches 
Yes. Electronic Fuel Injection . Yes 
4-speed manual/3-speed automatic. Gearbox . . . + -+45реей manual/3-speed automatic 
NE EEE Front Wheel Drive ......... .... No 
0 10 60 in 125 ѕесопӣѕ................. Acceleration. E . - -0 t060 —N/A 
197 feet... .. Stopping Distance Maximum Load at 60 A .. . 185 feet 


99 mph. 
97.4 inches. 2 . . . 103.4 inches 
172inches..... . Overall Length... . . - . 182.7 inches 
66.5 inches. . Overall Width . . + - -68.1 inches 
34 feet. . Turning Circle Diameter. . wees. e 30.4 feet 
35 4 
23.3 cubic feet. . . 23.6 cubic feet 
PLS Ipse E i - - 2677 Ibs. 
Же. КО р Electrically Heated Driver’s Seat .... V 
MC Heating Controls for Rear Seat Passengers . . . 
Yes . Fold-down Rear Seat 


. Impact Absorbing Bumpers 


Yes. . . Rack and Pinion Steering . . . 
Wester. - Disc Brakes On All Four Wheels 
Vedas . Dual-Diagonal Braking System 
Between rear wheels... . . . Fuel Tank Location . . . Under trunk 
1 year/unlimited mileage. . ic nd 1 year/unlimited mileage 
$3,795. . - $3855 
Before you buy theirs, ‘drive ours. Saab 99E. 


All inform 
Prices listed exclude dealer preparation, transportation, state and local ta 


ompiled from manufacturers own prin 
the name and address of the deal 


ns subject to change without 
in Connecticut, call 1800-882 


PLAYBOY 


184 


pets REL. . 


"Well, well, Dr. Beemis, after all the talk, it turns out. 
yow're the one with all the inhibitions!!" 


shells, Strain the broth through a fine 
sieve. Return the broth to the pot, add 
the mussels and the black olives and 
heat for a couple of minutes. 

Serve the spaghetti in individual heat- 
ed bowls, Ladle the sauce over it and 
sprinkle the parsley and cheese on top. 

This fine sauce is very soupy, so have 
plenty of hot Italian bread on hand to 
help sop it up. 


CARBONARA SAUCE 


12 strips bacon 

4 eggs 

1 Ib. spaghetti, cooked 

Black pepper 

Freshly grated parmesan cheese 

In a skillet, fry the bacon. When it is 
done, drain and crumble it. In а bowl, 
break the eggs and beat them briefly 
with a fork. 

Keep the bacon grease hot over low 
heat. When you have cooked the spa- 
ghetti, drain it and return it to its hot 
pot, but do not add butter. Instead, 
pour over it 4 or 5 tablespoons of the 
hot bacon grease. With two forks, lift 
and mix the spaghetti until it is well 
coated. Then add the raw eggs and lift 
and mix again until the eggs appear set. 

Add a good grind of black pepper 
and the crumbled bacon. 

Serve with parmesan cheese. 


ZUCCHINI SAUCE 


4 tablespoons garlic olive oil 
6 small zucchini 

1 green pepper, sceded and chopped 
2 tomatocs, peeled and chopped 

% cup water 

It, pepper 

Freshly grated parmesan cheese 


1 Ib. spaghetti, cooked 

In a skillet, heat the olive oil. Slice the 
zucchini in Yin, pieces, add them and 
the green pepper to the oil and cook 
briefly, until the zucchini begins to 
brown. Add the tomatoes and the water 
and simmer until the tomatoes have soft- 
ened. Finally, add 1 tcaspoon salt and 
plenty of freshly ground black pepper 
«1 combine thorough! 
Serve with parmesan cheese. 


COLD SAUCE FROM ISCHIA 


З ripe tomatoes, peeled and chopped 
1 sweet Italian onion, chopped 
1 pepper, seeded and chopped 
poons capers 
4 or 5 fresh basil leaves, minced. 
Sult, pepper 
1 cup olive oil 
Combine all the 
bowl, stir and place 


ngrediens in a 
the refrigerator 


for at least 4 hours, until it is good and 
cold. 
Serve the cooked spaghett divid- 


ual heated bowls and ladle the sauce 
over it. Be sure the portions are small 
cnough so that the spaghetti itself 
doesn't become chilled before one reaches 
the bottom of the bowl. (You won't want 
cheese with this) 
COLD SAUCE TARTARE 
2 eggs 
1 Ib. freshly ground chuck 


% cup minced parsley 
ced 


1 medium onion, m 

3 tablespoons capers 

Salt, pepper 

In a bowl, beat the eggs Add the 
meat, work the eggs into it, then add 
the parsley, onion, capers and a gen- 


crous amount of salt and pepper and 
combine thoroughly. 

Serve the cooked spaghetti in individ- 
ual heated bowls and spoon the sauce 
over it. 


COLD RED сај 


1 3-02. 
cheese 

1 cup commercial sour cream 

1 4-02, jar red caviar 

In a bowl, mash the cheese, add the 
sour cream and beat until smooth. Add 
the caviar and mix carefully, so as not 
to break the eggs. 

Serve the cooked spaghetti in individ- 
ual heated bowls and spoon the sauce 


R SAUCE 


package Philadelphia cream 


The following recipes are not proper 
ly sauces but simply ways to give spa- 
ghetti an unexpected taste. 


PESTO 


In a blender, place 1 cup fresh basil 
leaves, 1 minced dove garlic, 2 table- 
spoons pine nuts, Yj cup grated. parme- 
san cheese, 5 tablespoons olive oil, a 
good dash of salt and a few grains of 
cayenne pepper. Blend until it becomes 
а smooth mass, You will probably have 
to stop the motor occasionally and 
scrape the mixture from the sides with a 
rubber spatula, 
tablespoon of this—do not heat 
it—over hot spaghetti is very good. 
indeed. 


ANCHOVY 


In a skillet, heat 2 tablespoons butter 
and 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add 1 s 
can anchovy fillets and, with a fork, 
mash them into a paste. Finally, add м 
cup well-broken-up walnuts and cook 
until the walnuts are hot. (You can, of 
, use 2 tablespoons anchovy paste 
stead of the fillets.) 


cours 


FOIE GRAS 

Slice 12 fresh mushroom caps very 
thinly. Heat 4 tablespoons butter and 
sauté the mushrooms briefly. Mash a 6-07. 


jar of pûte de foie gras with a fork, add 
to the mushrooms and combine thor- 
oughly. Now add 1 cup heavy cream, 
a little at a time. Stir constantly until 
the mixture is thoroughly heated 


WHITE TRUFFLE PURÉE 


You can occasionally find a рш 
white Italian truffles in some of th 
der food stores. lt comes in something 
that looks like an enormous tooth-paste 
tube. 

Heat 4 tablespoons butter in an en- 
mel skillet, then squeeze in about half 
the tube of purée and stir until the 
mixture is smooth 

Molto bene! 


twins. 


What do you call two stereo 


systems that have identically the same a 
insides, but not the same outsides? тҮ 
Well, you call one a Sylvania compact 


stereo system. It's stacked and compact with tuner / 
amplifier, turntable, and tape player all in one unit. 

And you call the other a Sylvania component stereo system. Each unit is sepa- 
rate so you can spread it around any way you want it. 

Inside, though, they’re the same. Both have an RMS rating of 12.5 watts per 
channel (20 watts IHF) with each channel driven into 8 ohms. There are identical 
FETs, ICs, and ceramic IF filters in the AM Stereo FM tuner/amplifiers. Both offer 
the same switchable main and remote speaker jacks, headphone jacks, aux jacks, tape 
monitor, and built-in matrix four-channel capability for the new quadrasonic sound. 
The turntables are Garrard automatics with magnetic cartridges and diamond styluses. 
The 4-track stereo record / playback cassette decks are the same. And both air-suspen- 
sion speaker systems contain two 8-inch woofers and two 3-inch tweeters. 

So if they're the same, how come they're different? 

Because different people want the same great stereo sound different ways. So 
we give it to them. 

Come on down to your Sylvania dealer’s for a look and a listen. 

Then you can pick the shape you want as well as the sound you like. 


Gp SYLVANIA 


Sylvania Entertainment Products Group, Batavia, N.Y. 


PLAYBOY 


186 


PRESIDENT FLAGELLATES FROGS 


(continued from page 132) 
when I announced that at Groton and 
al's School, every entering boy has 
y broken and wired together at 
the age of 11, thus accounting for the 
famed clenched-teeth accent affected. by 
the upper class of the Eastern Seaboard. 
The ritual, I said, was performed by a 
special Episcopalian orthopedic surgeon, 
using a mallet purchased from the same 
old wood-instrument firm that provides 
mallets to the Kansas City stockyards for 
stunning cattle that are about to be 
slaughtered. In time, I got so I could 
put forward tantalizing hints that jm- 
plied I was restraining myself from re- 
vealing deeper, dirtier knowledge of the 
person discussed. "He was a perfectly 
brilliant Secretary of State, and I've al- 
ways thought those farm-animal stories 
were greatly exaggerated," I'd say, and 


everyone would nod їп thoughtful 
agreement. 

I dropped my plans for a doctorate, of 
course, as soon аз the opportunity for a 
syndicated column presented itself and 


the television talk-show invitations be- 
gan to come in. I continue a policy of 
stating or hinting at outrageous and 
totally false information about well- 
known people—never movie stars or 
other objects of common gossip—and it 
continues to be assumed that anyone 
who knows information that revol 
must be extraordinarily intimate with 


The Powerful and The Mighty. Now, of 
course, not many of the people 1 men- 
tion in my column are beter known 
than 1 am. Wanda Sue and I have long. 
been parted, which is a shame, but 
sometimes a wife simply fails to grow 
with her husband. For a long time, 1 
thought that Wanda Sue was without 
bitterness; now I'm beginning to won- 
der. Last week, at the Delegates’ Lounge 
in the United Nations, an ambassador of 
my acquaintance mentioned to me that 
they're wearing skirts fuller this year. I 
passed off the remark as an oversubtle 
reference to a small item I had invented 
about the Archbishop of Canter bury 
concealing a Bren gun under his robes 
during Christmas Eve and Easter serv- 
ices, when the collections are particu- 
larly large at the cathedral. But then, a 
couple of days later, at my club in 
Washington, a Deputy Assistant Secretary 
of Defense who likes to joke with hi 

bout. their perversions 
ng habits told me that my 
skirt must set spring 
back at least 12 wecks. Someone, 1 have 
overed, has been spreading the ru- 
in drag every 
1c. So far, it 
hasn't done me much harm; Im told 
that some people believe it makes me a 
more interesting. person. What has me 
worried is what she'll come up with. for 
the corollary. 


"Know something? My hiccups have stopped." 


Uhal did 4 do that was trong? 


(continued from page 110) 
had a couple more. And there was this 
man, a stranger, I had never seen him 
before, anyway, and for some reason he 
turned me on, he really turned me on, 
and we made it together and it was 
fantastic. And afterward, I caught Ed's 
сус, he involved with one of my 
dearest friends, and I made a circle out 
of my thumb and forefinger and waved 
to him and he nodded and grinned and 
did the same thing back. 

This was really a scene. the host and 
hostess had a big living room, you know, 
and there it was all around you, and I 
began to feel pretty good. I looked at the 
women's bodies and I reckoned 1 was as 
good as any of them, maybe better than 
some, and I began to watch what was 
going on with this new point of view 
nd for the first time it scemed kind of 
exciting to me. There were all kinds of 
arrangements, some of them involvin 
several people at the same time. I wasn't 
ready for that, but I didn't find it too 
difficult, to watch. 

A funny thing happened that night. 
Out of nowhere, a little girl about three, 
you know, in those Dr. Denton's, was 
standing in the doorway, the daughter 
of our hosts. Nobody knew how long she 
was standing there, rubbing her eyes, 
not making a sound, unul somebody 
finally noticed her and called out to the 
mother. Ihe mother at that moment 
was part of a sort of fascinating configu- 
ration with three or four others and she 
Jooked around for the father, but he 
subsurfaced somewhere, and so she had. 
to disengage herself and take the child 
back to bed. The mother returned a 
little later and rejoined her own particu- 
Jar little assemblage, although, during 
her brief absence, certain adjustments 
had had to be made, and she now had 
10 take a different position. 

It all worked out, though, everything 
worked out that night, and I began to 
get turned on again, not only by this 
strange man but by everything that 
going on around me, and there he was, 
my stranger, and obviously the scene ог 
me or both had the same happy effect 
on him and we made it again and my 
God. it was great. There were a couple 
of explosions there, I can tell you. 


She lit another cigarette and in the 
y ination, Morgen saw 
at her face had subtly changed. There 
was light in her eyes, too, that had 
nothing to do with the flame and her 
lips seemed fuller and there was no 
frown, no frown at all. She looked full 
ol juices and very inviting and then the 
click of the lighter as she snapped shut 
the top closed it off, suddenly, sharply, 
irrevocably, and the glimpse into that 
new world was gone, 


The Gimlet 


Anyway you like it, but always with Rose’s. 


3956 
И 


RECONSTITUTED 
NS 
E 


One part Rose's Lime Juice. Four or five parts gin or vodka. Or mix it to your taste. Straight up or on the rocks. 
Aloneor ina crowd. At home or away. That's the clean crisp Gimlet. The Rose's Gimlet. 


ws 


Gourmet originals. 


PLAYBOY 


The original 
Lol ig i 


: o 


About 1890, Delmonico’s Restaurant (N.Y.C.) 
honored one of its best patrons, Mr. Ben Wenberg, Й 
by naming this creamy lobster sauce dish, “Lobster Unfortunately, opera star Luisa Tetrazzini is more 


Wenberg.” Onc evening, however, a bitter quarrel famous today for this creamy vegetable and spaghetti dish 
erupted. And thereafter, Mr. Wenberg's name was than for what, no doubt, inspired it. Her incomparable 
mud. The dish fortunately was redubbed something swan song. What's more, if a shortage of swans about 1920 
slightly more appetizing, hadn't forced a last-minute recipe change to chicken, 


today we'd all be enjoying 
Swan Tetrazzini. 


Usher's 
Green Stripe. For А 
years, gourmets 


BLENDED SCOTCH WHISKY—85 PROOF—BROWN-FORMAN DISTILLERS CORP., LOUISVILLE, КҮ, © 1972 


z everywhere have 
This delicacy probably began with Genghis Khan's been singing Usher’s 
roving hordes about 1100 A.D. Meat stored under their praises. In fact, itmay have been 
saddle bags shredded. And was eaten raw. Heated debates present when the curtain went up on Mme. Tetrazzini's 
still rage over this, our hamburger’s ancestor. Specifically, masterpiece. For Andrew Usher had already composed 
whether ancient history might have been altered if there this superbly light original about 67 years before. 
had been a Burger Queen in Genghis's hometown. Since 1853, Usher's. From soup to nuts above the rest. 


ws Usher's Green Stripe. The 1853 Originals: 


6 Fora copy of Usher's “Gourmet Originals" recipes, write: Recipes, Brown-Forman Distillers Corp., Р.О. Box 1080, Louisville, Ky., 40201 


sooner 


.-. you're going to ski Austria. We knowit. And you know it. 


Because if you love skiing, how can you stay away? 


You can't. 


Not from the famoustrails you've heard about all your 
life. Not from the challenge of skiing beside Europe's best. 


Not from the fantastic resorts 
your friends won't stop remi- 
niscing about. 

We don't have to tell you. 
You're mulling it over already. 

Skiruns that end smack in 
the middle of smiling medieval 
villages. Horse taxis that haul 
you up to nightclubs overlook- 
ing the world. Immaculate, 
gingerbready little inns that 
seem to reach out and embrace 
you. 

Admit it, you've been 
thinking about it for years. 
Going where your favorite 
words come from: schnee, and 
schuss and wedeln.Where 
you can get next to that dyna- 
mite Austrian ski equipment 
at Austrian prices. Where an 
entire country seems designed 
just to make skiers happy. 


or 


ater 


Oh sure. You can make this winter an instant replay 
of all your other winters. Same faces, same mountains, 
same snow. 

Or you can kick off a goose-down comforter some 
crystal blue morning and go carve your name оп ап Alp. 


Deep in your trail-blazing 
heart, you know you're going 
to Austria. Sooner or later. 

Why later? 

(We'll send youa big color- 
ful package of brochures, 
maps and useful information. 
Free. 

Just write to the Austrian 
National Tourist Offices in: 
New York: 545 Fifth Avenue, 
10017 Chicago: 332 S. Michi- 


4 gan Avenue, Suite 1401, Ill. 


60604 - Los Angeles: 3440 Wil- 


^, shire Boulevard, California 
> 90010 • Portland: 2433 N.W. 


Lovejoy Street, Oregon 97210 
e St. Louis: 1121 Timberlane, 


| Warson Woods, Mo. 63122.) 


("Austria 


PLAYBOY 


Oddball 


* i Pernod is a drink of a different taste. 
Pernod and Orange Juice The intriguing licorice flavor of anis. Pernod is a drink 

of a different color. Clear golden in the bottle. 
It turns opalescent yellow when you add 

It’s not like your orange juice or water. 2 

H Try the Oddball, Pernod and orange juice. 

same old drink Or Pemod a la Francaise, with ice y * 
and water in a tall glass. / 

Or Pernod the American way, f 

“On the rocks”, with a splash. 1 


a 
sormoor ANEW YORK) 


He sighed again, again to himself, and 
tended his glass and hers as well. They 
were singing again in the saloon and he 
turned his head to the sound and 
thought what a bloody fool the husband 
was, a woman who could look like that 
and who didn’t look like that most of 
the time. 

“And on the way home?” he asked, 
indulging himself in self-commiseration 
that this was his life, a passer-by, a 
ner to. 

Yes, on the way home: 

The sailor had finished whatever he 
was doing by then and he shut the 
panel and walked to the rail and looked 
upon the water. It seemed to Morgan 
that he took his own swect time. 

On the way home, Ed was a liule 
annoyed, but I didn't notice it at first, 
because I was feeling so marvelous, so 
absolutely marvelous, and finally he 
said, "Why did you have to make it 
twice with that guy: 

I stretched in the car. Every part of 
me felt marvelous. "You made it twice. I 
happened to notice tha 
But with two different women." 

"I saw that, too. What's the difference?” 

“A whole hell of a lot of difference. 
"The thing is with what you did, it gets 
personal." 

“It's a pretty damned personal thing. 
You have to admit that. 

“That's the whole point. It’s not sup- 
posed to be personal.” 

“I can't scc how letting a man get 
between your legs can be anything else.” 

"But it can't be personal. It's just the 
thing itself. When you stick with one 
person that way, it’s, well, it's personal. 
It’s like you care for him or something.” 

“T cared for what he did.” 

“You liked it.” He turned to me for a 
moment. “You really liked it this time?” 

“I really liked it.” 

He was that good?” 
He was good.” 
Better than me?” 

“I didn't say that.” 

“Was he?” 

“I have to admit, Ed, that while it was 
happening. while it was happening each 
time, I wasn't exactly in a state to make 
comparisons. I was just enjoying it, the 
way you told me I should." 

Ed drove silently for a fe 
‘Then he asked. “Was he big?” 

"He's a big man, you saw that, six feet, 
I guess.” 

“I don't mean that. Was he big down 
there?” 

“T didn’t notice. I told you, I was not 
comparison shopping.” 

“You just enjoyed 

“I just plain enjoyed it. T sure as hell 
enjoyed it. I enjoyed every blessed min- 
ute of it. Now are you happy?" 

“Т sure am. I sure am happy you're 
getting rid of those hang-up: 

And that was that. We got home and 


minutes. 


“Tam not a man on the street —I'm a man 
waiting for my limousine!" 


I almost didn't have the strength to 
undress, Pm usually pretty but 
that night I just threw everything onto 
the floor and flopped. I slept the sleep 
of the dead that night. Was it something 
about a new man? Even though when 
you come down to it, it’s the same thing, 
was there something down deep, really 
deep, inside me that had responded 
that way to somebody new? Did it prove 
anything about me or about him or 
about my being able to attract some- 
body besides Ed? 

I thought a lot about all of that. T 
supposed there was some little truth 
about everything right down the line, 
but mostly, I decided, it was the whole 
atmosphere of those scenes. It was like 
the air was filled with sex, like it might 
е been alcohol, and 1 had got drunk 
just breathing it. 

And the marvelous thing was that it 
t encroach on what Ed and I had, 
the important thing. Our private sex 
was as good as суст, maybe even better. 
Maybe I had had these hangups with- 
out knowing it and I was getting freed. 
Jt all added up to something wonderful. 

Then a couple of weeks went by and 
Ed didn't say anything about any party 
anywhere and one ht 1 asked him 
nd he said things were kind of slow in 
that field and I told him we'd have to 
start thinking about having the gang 
come over to our place. He said he'd 
think about that and then I found out 
by chance that there had been a party a 
weck or so before and that we had been. 
invited and that Ed had turned it down. 

"I felt lousy that night," he told me 


when I asked him. “I felt a cold com- 
ing on." 
I couldn't remember anything like that. 
“But you never even mentioned it to me. 
“I guess it slipped my mind. No point, 
anyway. Not the way I was feeling.” 
“When's the next shindig?” 
"Haven't heard yet 
ybe this is the one we should have 


here. 
Would you like that?” 

“Well, we have to show hospitalit 

“TI think about it.” 

A couple of days later, one of my 
friends called me about something and 
she said they had all missed us at the last 
do, the one Ed had turned down, and 
she hoped we'd both be at the party the 
following Saturday night at Henry and 
Edith’s place. I sid sure, we'd be there. 

When Ed came home that night, I 
waited for him to tell me about Henry 
and Edith and when he didn't, I told 
him. He wanted to know who told me 
and 1 told him. 

“Why?” I asked. "Didn't they tell you 

“Yeah, sure, Henry told me on the 


и: 


You didn’t say anything to me.” 
“I was going to.” 
“But we're going?” 
‘Sure, sure, we're going. You sure you 
want to go?" 
E 
“Your boyfriend won't be there.” 
“My boyfriend?” 
“You know, the guy you balled twice 
with last time.” 
“I hadn't thought about h 
“He was a friend of somebody's. He 


187 


PLAYBOY 


188 


docs 
in Detroit." He lai 
guest privileges that night." 

l looked forward to that next Satur- 
day night. It's funny how I looked for- 
ward to it. 


Somebody came out of the saloon. 
up. It was a man. In the 
dark, he couldn't tell who it was The 
ked over to them. Morgan saw 
s not her husband. That was some- 
nyway. 

п, who w 
and who wore 
elbows on the 
said. 


s dressed shapelessly 
g tie, rested on his 
What a night," he 


. He watched 
rette. The glow was 
n her eyes and her 


forehead was as smooth as a child's, and 

how long would all that last? 

rst time the little woman and me 
a boat,” the man said. "Had 

ne before we had 10 get back 

why not? Plane flying ain't 


and I s 
that great." 


Morgan agreed. The man talked on. 
He had a strong Midwestern twang. It 
seemed he was in the business of raising 
pigs just outside Dubuque, Towa. He 
might have gone on and in the end 
Morgan might have tossed him over- 
board, but the man was saved when his 
wile came out and bellowed for him to 
come on back in before he caught his 
death, 

The man 
he said, 


ned. "Best hog caller in 
she went off. 


“So he 
“His wife'sa hog caller. 


"Oh, did he. just now? I wasn't listen- 
ing, I was thinking of something else.’ 

“What happened?” 

“What was I saying?” 

“The party the next Saturday night, 
at Henry and Edith’s. 
aghed. It was а short laugh, cut 
the party at Henry and 
Edith’s. Fl never forget the party at 
Henry and Edith’s.” 

She took a long time to go on, so long 


"How come you never treat me as a sex object?" 


that for a short, fearful time, Morgan 
thought he wasn't going to hear about 
the party at Henry and Edith's. 

You understand that Ed and I were 
just as great as ever. It was getting so 
I could make pictures. When we were 
doing it. I could close my eyes and think 
of one of those big scenes, and they 
turned me on, there was no doubt of 
that now, they turned me on and they 
added to what Ed did, and what he did, 
as I have mentioned before, was pretty 
great. But the thoughts about the group 
scenes excited me and it was ju 
ous to have that and everything € 
my love for Ed was not lessened in the 
slightest, and while waiting for Saturday 
night, I got to thinking about one of 
our friends, a man named Don, and 1 
discovered I had a letch for him, and 
right then and there І made up my 
mind that that wasn't right, that it had. 
to be impersonal, as Ed had said, like 
ice skating or dancing or playing bridge. 
Yes, that was it, just like pi 
nament bridge, changing ра 
time to time and having no private 
feelings at all beyond their competence 
in their performano 

We went to Henry and Edith's that 
Saturday night. They were one of the 
wealthiest couples in our set and they 
had champagne for everybody, which 
made things even more festive, and I 
was ready. I was ready for this wonder- 
ful thing that w 
and had nothing to do with the genuine 
Jove Ed and I had for cach other. Ac 
tually, Y loved him more, I guess, for 
having the love and patience and kind- 
ness to work on me until my eyes were 
open and I had lost this old-fashioned 
sexual hang-up I surely had had and 
now was free and uncluttered and with 
it and able to take my pleasure without 
any feelings of guilt or remorse. 

It was а real brawl that night, one of 
the best, certainly the best for me, I 
guess, because I had three men that 
night. I was very careful not to have the 
same one twice, because I didn't want to 
get Ed angry with me again and maybe 
keep me away from these parties. 1 had 
three men. As a matter of fact, I had 
two of them at the same time, and let 
me tell you there was never anything 
like that before. It just blew my head 
olt. 


nal 


s totally imper: 


“And on the home?" Morgan 
asked, quietly pouring some more whis- 
ky into her glass. It was extraordinary 
how she could hold it. Her voice re- 
mained clear and low and her words 
came out in order. 

Nothing on the wiy home. I just col- 
Japsed in the car. J tell you, I was wiped 
out. My head was blown oft and I thought 


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PLAYBOY 


190 


as I sprawled out on that scat how abso- 
lutely fantastic it was to be able to enjoy 
I this tremendous sensation and not 
have it intrude in any way оп what Ed 
and I had between us. My God, I loved 
that та. 

Ed was saying something to me as we 
drove home. but I was gone, I 
hear it. 
l I could manage to stagger to bed. I 
didn’t ev 
was deade 


d when we got home, 


n undress. I just passed out. I 
than dead. 


"But the next morning," Morgan said. 
“The next morning?” She raised the 
gliss to her lips and then lowered i 
without tasting. “Fhe next morning, my 
iend, the roof fell in.” 

ceably enough. 
ened feeling like ten thousind million 
dollars and the best thing of all м 
that I wasn't thinking about those three 
men, not onc bit, only about what had 
happened, as Ed sid I should, and I 
was already thinking about the next 
party, it really had to be at our place, 
and then I noticed Ed was not in bed 
and it looked from the sheets and blan- 


It started рел 


ket on his side that he had not been in 
bed. 

Г managed to gather myself, My body 
still had such a delicious ache Т couldn't 


believe it. T put on a dressing gown and 
t into the living room. Ed was sleep- 
a chair. There was an empty 
bottle of booze on the floor next to the 
chair. An ashtray was filled with butts. 
He opened his eyes when I shook him a 
little. 


“What’s this?” I asked. 
And how do you feel?" He sat up 
suaighter, He looked awful. His eyes 


mouth 


nd his hung 


“I feel marvelous." I said, “What are 
you doing here? Why didn't you go to 
bed?" 

He fumbled around for a cigarette 
said, "I never saw anything so disgu 
in my life. 

“Whar What are you talking about?” 

“You. Fm talking about you.” He lit 
the cigarette. His hands shook. “I'm 
talking about the demonstration you 
made of yourself last night. Fm talking 
pout the scene you made. 
"I thought we were all 
scene 


nd 


aking the 


He pulled c 
Three те 

“Three different men," Е said. “The 
way you told me, not to have the samc 


a the ciga- 


creep Charley. You've had eyes 


him for sor 


And that other асер, Joc Long- 


worth. How 
hots for Піпі 

Т took a cigarette and sat down. Some- 
thing was very wrong. To have to listen 
to that and to have all those feeli 
seep away from me. "Ed, I'm doing just 
what you told me to do, what you 
begged me to do. You told me to stop 


long you been having the 


being so uptight. You told me to get 
loose. You told me to enjoy myself. You 
told me not to have the same man more 


than once оп any one night. What have 
I done that was wrong? 

His eyes seemed to half close. 
one did you like the best?” 

“I liked them all.” 

"You mean it doesn't matter to you?" 
What doesn’t matter to me? 
Who it is who's screwing you? You 
mean amy guy can crawl into you? E 
two at the same time?" 

Ed, for God's sak 
Yes, for God's sake!" He glared at 
me. Гуе never seen hate quite like thar. 
“You're nothing but a damned whore!” 
Fd. listen to me. All I did" 

All you did was take on three men, 
two at once!” He got up and took a 
few steps and then whi 
for a moment, I thought li 
come over and hit me. "Any man can 
lay you! Any two ment" 

"Ed. please listen to me." 

"Who the hell else have you been 


Nh: 


h 


led at me and 


"Ed, don't say tha 
"Now that I know what you are, I 
sure as hell will say that. Nobody who 
digs it like you could be satisfied with 
one man. Who else? Tell me who else?” 
"Nobody, Ed. I swear to you, 
“Bullshit.” He came close d 
down. “It's like I'm seeing you for the 
first time. You're a goddamned nympho. 
goddamned nympho whore.” 
I got up. "Г g to listen 10 
any more of this. 
"ОГ course not, you damned whore. 


nobod: 


and lex 


You 


You can't listen to the truth about 
yourself.” 
I started out the room. I stopped at 


the door and turned around. 1 wanted 
to say something. to try 10 si 
thing, but when I looked 
knew there was nothing to be 


She emptied her glass. Morgan picked 
up the bottle. There was just a touch 
left for both of them. He led the 
whisky carefully and then tossed the 
bottle overboard. 

“And that’s my little story,” she 1. 
raising her lace to the incoming breeze 

I don't know why I told it to you. I 
suppose writers are supposed to know 
something about people.” 

She turned to him and lit a cigarette. 
ained. She looked almost 
she had been 


* was dr 


usted at the 


times she had just told him 
Were you surprised by all th 
me the truth." 

He didn’t say anything. He 


wanted. 
the full time before the light was closed 
ош. 


she asked, 
ness. Noth- 


dut 
ters hear е 
ing fazes you." 

"Ihe only thing that surprised me 
was the impression I had got of your 
husband. From what Гус scen of him, 
he doesn't look like a man who'd go in 
for amy of that. It just gocs to prov 
how deceiving appearances can be.” 

She looked puzzled for a moment and 
then laughed. “My husband? You mean 
Lawrence?” She laughed again, bub- 
bling like a child. "Lawrence is my new 
husband, my second husband. Ed and I 
got a divorce. He just couldn't go on. 
No way. No, not Lawrence, my God! 
No. we live in Connecticut now und I 
don't think. Lawrence even knows about. 
h things or, if he does, he doesn't 
lly believe them. He couldn't be- 
And they happen, all right. 
| around us. There's a 
bout right among our 
icut. 


surprise you?" 
thing. I g 


actu 
lieve then 
They happen а 
group Гус heard 


own set in Connes 


“Have any of these friends 
hed you? 
ood Lad, no!" She 


"Knowing Lawrence, nobody would ever 
dream of asking us to take part in 


anything like that.” 
Do you think about iı?” 
“No. No, that's a lie. Of course I 


think about it. How could I kecp from 
thinking about it? I keep seeing pic 
tunes, I look at these friends of mine, at 
dinner parties, at cocktail parties, at the 
club, and I keep seeing these pictures, 
Of course T think about it. But Td never 
do anything. Lawrence is OK, not as 
good as Ed by a country mile, but I've 
settled for that and I'd never do any- 
thing. My God, look what it did to 
my fist marriage! And I still dont 
know what I did that was wrong.” She 
stood up abruptly. “What did 1 do that 
was wrong?” 

Without waiting for 
started back for the saloon, where the 
singing was still going on full Ыам. 
She walked straight and steady and when 
she entered the saloon, Morg: in 
the light from within the really splendid 
line of her body and her fine, clean 


n answer, she 


saw 


profile. 
She hadn't wanted an he 
thought, because she 


long ago to the melancholy conclusion 
that the question of right and wrong 
tered into anything at all. 

the last of his glorious 
whisky and. went down to his cabin. He 
lay awake for a long time. There were 
some pictures of his own that he saw. 


“I think he’s Mafia, darling—he made me an offer I couldw’t refuse.” 


» 


PLAYBO 


192 


DANIEL ELLSBERG 


newspaper ads, he got top billing, above 
Burt Lancaster and Jane Fonda. 

On the moming of the rally, he 
emerged ecstatically from the Ambass: 
dor Hotel massage room and spotted his 
wife sunning herself by the heated sw 
ming роо 

“Hey, honey!" he shouted, leaping 
over a chaise longue. “I've got a theme!” 
He had been working on his talk, un 
fruitfully, for several days 

Patricia sat up, beaming. “That’s won- 
derful, darling. Wonderful 

The theme was to flow from a line of 
‘Thoreau’s: "Cast your whole vote." Ells- 
berg recently had been rereading Tho- 
reau, upon the advice of his son. Mter 
several days at Walden Pond, he was so 
excited by Thoreau's experiences, 
sights and language that he could scarce- 
ly put the book dow: 

He took it with him to a television 
interview that afternoon, and, on the 
way from the interview to the Sports 


in- 


“Well, you were right, Professor. Forty 
into eighteen three times! 


(continued from page 98) 

Arena, where he would rehearse the 
logistics of the night's appearance, he 
turned eagerly to the three other people 
in the car. “You don't mind if I read, do 
you?” Of course not, the three people 
said. So Ellsberg read. aloud, from Wal- 
den, all the way from Burbank to South 


Los Angeles, in heavy traffic, 
There were 18,000 people at thc 
rally. induding Ellsberg's father, who 


had flown out from Michigan, and his 
son. It was by far the largest, perhaps 
even the most enthusiastic crowd he'd 
ever spoken to, and he was terrible. He 
had gone alone into a dressing room 90 
minutes before his talk, intending to 
ve it together. Instead, he had found 
himself completely blocked. Only the 
fiveminute standing ovation when he 
introduced allowed him to think of 
ences. He wailed off 
rapidly after that and wandered lamely 
ross much of the hour that followed. 
He read extensively from Thoreau and 


few opening se 


шо can go 


told several stories about his father. 

The next morning, he went to а pri- 
vate home in Bel Aire, a community 
thar Ties just west of its less exclusive 
neighbor, Beverly Hills. There were ap- 
proximately а dozen men of extraordi- 
nary wealth assembled there. Each had 
paid $1000 for the privilege of attending 
а two-hour seminar with Daniel Ellsherg. 
This was an «Поп to raise money for his 
defense fund, It was hoped that at the 


end of the two hours the men would be 
upressed that they would contribute 


so 
much more than the original $1000. 
Isberg talked for an hour and he 
superb. In tum passionate, subdued, 
emotional. funny—but. always relentless 
ly brilliant. Then the men Бе; 
talk. These were very rich men. From an 
adjoining yoom came the sound of the 
host's son playing with his birthday pres- 
ent: a computer, Because they were 
they must have been smart, and they all 
liked Ellsberg, so they wanted to help 
him by telling him what he should do. 
They talked about how he should pack- 
age himself for the media, with whom 
he should associate and with whom he 
should not associate, for the sake of his 
nage; and how he should ша 
al. Ellsberg sat for quite a wl 
listened. He is a polite man, a 
people had paid $1000 apicce to hear 
cach other talk, he did not think it 
proper to interrupt. 
inally, however, it went too far, А 
man named Victor, whom Ellsberg had 
met somewhere before, turned to him 
with more advic 
Now really, Dan, you simply can't 
uy to turn your trial into a major 
political суст. In a Presidentialelection. 
year, that, very simply, is pissing into 
the wind.” 

Ellsberg stood, and his hands started 
to tremble the way they had the morn- 
ing his son had been subpoenaed. 

"Pissing into the wind," he said. His 
voice was almost a hiss. “That's right, 
Victor, that’s what I'm doing. Pissing 
into the wind. That's why I'm covered 
with piss!” 

‘The seminar was over. The rich men 
exchanged pleasantrics and went their 
separate ways. It was not immediately 
determined whether any had made fur- 
ther contributions to Ellsberg's defense 
fund. Ellsberg continued to tremble for 
several minutes, 

Even before he was born, Daniel Ells- 
berg’s mother had decided that, if he 
were a boy, she would make him one of 
the greatest concert pianists in the world. 
From the age of five, he was made to 
no eight hours a day. He 
attended school only in the morning. 
He would come home at lunchtime and 
practice until time for bed. He was not 
allowed to participate in sports—not 
even to own a baseball glove—for fear 


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PLAYBOY 


196 


“As the king’s taster, do you try everything before he does?” 


he would injure his hands, Nor was he 
encouraged to read. If his mother found 
him getting absorbed in a book, she 
would take it from him and hide it so he 
would not be distracted from the piano. 

This continued until he was 15 years 
old. Then his mother and his sister were 
ied in an automobile accident. One of 
Ellsberg’s knees was shattered and he 
was in a coma for days afterward, His 
father, who had been dr was in- 
jured slightly. 

At one. point, as he came briefly out. 
of his coma, Ellsberg asked a doctor how 
his mother was. 
as killed.” 

id the semicoherent Ellsberg. 
“I guess that means I won't have to play 
the piano." 

He did play, anyway, for the next two 
years, because he knew no other way of 

fe. But when he went to Harvard, he 
left the piano behind. "Suddenly," hi 
recalled, "I found eight extra hours in 
the day. 1 feel like I've been on vacation 
ever since.” 

There 
of bis 


аз onc evening, in late Septem- 
D man year when Ellsberg, 
his classwork done as usual went to a 
brary, took out the Hemingway novel 
To Have and Have Not, bought a 
quart of beer in a delicatessen, found a 


1 started to read. "I felt 
he sid. “I couldn't figure out what ir 

as. Then I re: I felt free, for th 
first time in my life. 

Ellsberg does not lock back upon his 
childhood with fondness. “I've done my 
time in hell" he says. "I don't have to 
apologize to anybody." The worst part 
was finding out he'd been lied to. “Td 
always been told I had to do all this 
with the piano because І had showed 
such talent. When I found out it had 
been determined before | was bom, it 
was... shattering. It's very difficult to 
realize that your mother, in whom 
you've always placed such trust—tlia 
what she'd always told you was a myth. 

While still at Harvard, Ellsberg mar- 
ried the daughter of a Marine officer. 
After graduation, he went to Cambridge 
on a Woodrow Wilson Fellowship and 
returned to Harvard. for an М. A.. then 
enlisted in the Marines. He ranked first 
in his 1100-man officerscandidate class, 
and when he became a company com- 
nder his company was, by all measur- 
‚ the best in its division. He 
spent his career in the Middle East, how- 
сует, and did not experience combat. 

Hc had a background in cconom 


ma 


ble critei 


but after the Marines he returned to 
Harvard to specialize in the study of risk 
and decision making. His doctoral 


sertation was tiled “Risk, Ambiguity and 
Decision.” Its opening sentences stated 
the problem: “To act reasonably, one 
must judge actions by their consequences. 
But what if their consequences аге ш 


certain? One must still, no doubt, 
reasonably; the problem is to decide what 
this may mean,” 

Ellsberg's abilities and area of exper- 
tise led him naturally to Rand, the 
Santa Monica, California, intellectual 
center that was doing a great deal of 
work for the Air Force. There, his 
explorations into risk, ambiguity and d 
cision making as they affected nucle 
weapons policy convinced him that the 
end of the world was almost imminent, 
He dedined to participate in an attrac- 
ive Rand pension program because he 
did not think he would survive long 
enough to reap its benefits When he 
^urned to Harvard for a year of addi- 
tional research, he would stop cach 
night at a liquor store on the way to his 
partment and buy a bottle of the most 
expensive wine they had in stock. He 
enjoyed drinking wine with dinner. and 
money didn't matter. The world was 
coming to an end 

Ellsberg rose т s profession, 
but just as rapidly his marriage col- 

pxd. "My wife told me she'd never 
loved me, I wish she had remembered to 


we got marricd 
he could not 
her, but the day after Chr 
she told him that she wanted 


divorce. 
Free again, Ellsberg went on a risk- 


taking binge (mountain climbing. sky 
aed in his seeking 
position in Vier: as assigned 
to study the pacification program, which 
he did; but he decided also to use Vict 
m to expose himself to the ultimate 
physical visk—combat—which he had 
never experienced as a Marine. 

At first, he approached the matter 
logically, giving himself a rationale for 
cach experience. But then, at a Saigon 
arewell party for Neil Shechan of The 
New York Times (the reporter who fist 
obtained the Pentagon papers), Ellsberg 
fell into a violent quarrel with his new 
fiancée, Patricia Marx, who was in Viet- 
nam for a visit, The fight concerned the 
immorality of American involvement in 
Vietnam and Ellsberg’s own immorality 
through complicity. Patricia's tone was 
more accusatory than Ellsberg could tol- 
it. and their relation- 
ship, came to a temporary halt. 

Then there was a bri ense affair 
1 gon and, 
when that ended, Ellsberg found him. 
self, at the age of 35, not caring whether 
he lived or died. "It was a very strange 
thing. 1 tried to make myself care. I 
would make myself think about my fu- 
ture, my career, but nothing made any 
difference. Not even when I thought 
about my children.” 

Now his quest for comba 
less. "My plan was to go into the field 
with every single unit we had in Vict- 
nam. Starting at the DMZ and working 


t grew red 


all the way down to the Delta. Fortu- 
nately, I got hepatitis before I got 
killed.’ 

The hepatitis removed him from Viet- 
mam and, after recuperating, Ellsberg 
went back to Santa Monica and Rand. 
There was another flurry of sensual ac- 
tivity—a Malibu beach house; quick, cas 
ual liaisons; visits to a nearby nudist 
camp—but this was accompanied by 
intensive psychoanalysis (four days а 
week) that lasted 18 months, until Ells- 
berg left Rand to release the papers. 
Through analysis, the desire for physical 
risk diminished and the desire to stay 
jive returned. 

At the same time, the conviction was 
growing in Ellsberg's mind that America 
L as charged, committed terrible 
crimes against humanity in Vietnam and 
that he had indeed played a role. 

I had thought I was accomplishing 
something. 1 was opposed to the bomb. 

ng. I filed honest reports. I thought I 
doing more good on the inside 
than I could if I got ош. It's a trap I 
think others have fallen into. The closer 
you get to the military and the more 
you realize how truly evil the top lev 
n be, the more you feel it's an honor 
ble job just keeping the monster on a 
short leash. How could Bundy feel 
guilty about X number dead from ош 
bombing if he saw the alternative as 

ис! war? 

As he contemplated, however, Ells- 
berg's judgment grew more harsh. This 
led, gradually, to acts of atonement and 
resistance that culminated in the release 
of the paper 

From his new moral vantage point, 
Ellsberg's past acts seemed dreadful, in- 
deed. In the spring of 1971, speaking in 
a Boston church just before publication 
of the papers, he read excerpts from the 
memoirs of Nazi official Albert Speer. 
"'From fear of discovering something 
which might have made me turn from 
my course " he read, “'I had closed my 
eves. 1 was like a man following a trail 
of bloodstained footprints through the 
snow without realizing some 
ing injured.’ " 

Ellsberg told his audience that the 
first time he had read aloud the excerpts 
from Speer, it was in a “detached and 
accusing” tone, “imagining Bundy, Rusk, 

better, that 1 
Пу to speak these 


Speer was ѕа 
my own voice growing low and halting 

nd it was becoming hard to go on. I told. 
[my audience], “This is difficult for me to 
read” After а moment I went on, but I 
brought the talk to an end. I knew that 
it was my eyes, my voice, responding 10 
these indictments. 

Toward the conclusion of his talk. 
Ellsberg said, “It is, then, my own long 
persistence in ignorance of the history of 


197 


PLAYBOY 


198 


“Miss Thorndyke, Га like 10 congratulate you on doing 
a terrific job for a girl with such big lils.” 


the conflict and of our involvement and 
of the full impact of the American way 
of war that I find most to blame in 
myself. As I look back at my own role in 
the last eight years, it is with a heavy 
sense of guilt. 

"Then there was one other quotation 
from Speer. Describing his reaction to a 
photograph of a Jew mily going to 


its gaschamber death: "It has made a 
desert of my life.” 


The sky over Cambridge was blank, 
December afternoon pale. The 
streets were crowded with young people 
in a hurry. Christmas vacation. was less 
than two weeks away. There were long 
lines in the travel agencies of Harvard 
за 


the 


A few blocks away, in a third-floor 
apartment of a wooden frame house, 
Ellsberg began to unpack some papers 
he had brought up from New York. 
This was the Ellsberg? Cambridge 
home; much Jess lavish than the one in 


New York, but the one that they prefer. 
Isberg had received the Tho 
Paine award from a committee of the 
A.C.L.U, at the Americana Hotel the 
night before, and now, positively, he was 
going to start a quieter life and get some 
work done on his book. Already. for 
ure to meet a deadline, he had forfeited 
half of his $50,000 advance, money that 
he had pledged to charity. 

"Do you realize,” he sa 
"that I was the first person to rea 
the Thon Pain rd who actually 
quoted from Thomas Paine?’ He held 
up a book of Paine's writings. “Are you 
familiar with Oh, there's. some 
great stuff here. Now, wai wait 
+ +» where's the one І was looking for 
. . . there was one I couldn't find last 
night . . . oh, li it is! Listen to thi 
"We have it in our power to begin the 
world over aj Goddamn it, how did 
I forget that? Honey, honey? Pat? Are 
you listening? Listen to this—oh, this 
one is really good: ‘To reason with 


1 delightedly, 


ve 


government is to argue with brutes. 
'Oh, honey, wide-eyed. 
[hat's wild. 

“Wow,” Ellsberg said softly. 

“Honey, that’s incredibly relevant." 

Then there was another book to be 
found and quoted from—a passage that 
described George Ш, British king at the 
time of the American Revolution, in 
terms Elisberg thought applied equ: 
ly well to Richard Nixon. But as the 
afternoon wore on, the elation wore 
away. The talk tumed to why so few 
old friends have joined Ellsberg on his 
journey. 

“To my old colleagues.” he 
behavior is either Һа 


m of power. 1 believe th 
are widely accepted as Americ: 


n values 
are not American values at all but only 
the values of that very small segment of 


our population which makes up thc 
leadership pool. They arc not the valucs 
of the young, the poor, the nonwhite, 
the women 

“Now, take just the women. 1 am 
convinced that we would not have done 
the things we did in Vietnam if, instead 
of Johnson, Rusk, McNamara, Rostow, 
Bundy, we had had their wives in those 
positions of power. I don't believe all 
power should be confined to such a 
narrow segment of our society, and this 
kind of thinking is very unnerving to 
my ex-colleagues and old friends, be- 
cause, after all, if power shifts, it will 
shift away from them. 

“Гуе lost interest in alij 
with the powerful. My old 
haven't. They, I'm sorry to say, have not 

xd the sa ness of our situation. 
They're unwilling to admit either an 
intellectual or a moral challenge to the 
lues 1 once shared with them. So Em 
afraid we're going to be working dil- 
ferent sides of the street for a long 
time. But it is... at times, I mean . . - 
it gets lonely. 

When he starts talking and is not 
impeded—by phone calls, by planes he 
has to catch, by his wife—Fllsberg can 
talk for hours, with no break in the 
or emotion. It 
was his emotion, or emotionalism, that 
he spoke of now. 

'd close to tears since summer, 
For a number of reasons. Опе is that so 
many interviews have caused me to coi 
front the very roots of the course th: 
I'm now on, a course that may well send. 
me to prison. I'm not afraid of prison— 
there are worse things, like death im 
Vietnam—but 1 don't want to go. 

"More importantly, the course that 
Tm now on has brought me into contact 
with people who do see the seriousness 
of our problems and are willing to 
change their lives to deal with them. To 
take risks with their lives and comfort in 


order to end the war and change society. 

“Alter so many years spent among men 
who could have accomplished so much 
with only the smallest of sacrifices, yet 
who were unwilling to make even those 
because they were afraid of being incon- 
venienced, or being embarrassed—after 
years around men like that, now that 


I'm among the powerless and uninfluen- 
tal, and 1 see them risking all, I 
... well, here I go again and . . . no, 


this time I'm not going to cry, but it's a 
terribly moving thing.” 

The doorbell rang. Daniel Ellsberg 
pushed the buzzer that opened the 
downstairs lock. It was a delivery boy. 
Bringing groceries. He put the box on a 
able and stood, w: 
lsberg's conversation. The pause came. 


"Dr. Ellsberg?” The delivery boy 
seemed embarrassed. 

"Yes?" 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” 

Seven months later, another apart- 


ment. This one in Los Angeles, walking 
distance from the courtroom where Ells- 
berg is on trial. It is Sunday afternoon 
and the jury has just been chosen. Testi- 
mony is about to begin. Ellsberg roams 
the stark and characterless rooms of the 
apartment in a bathing suit, scarchir 
for a roll of tape. He is thinner, by t 
pounds, and old muscles have been re- 
claimed from fat 


“I just swam fifty laps in the pool 
here, and Гуе got a chinning bar set up. 
Tve been training for this like Bobby 
Fischer.” He holds up a poster size pho- 
to of a cougar's face 10 tape it on the 
wall. “Look at the eyes,” he says. “Aren't 
they Patricia's eyes? You know, it was 
her eyes 1 fell in love with first.” 

Much has happened since December 
For Ellsberg himself, the wave of celeb- 
rity has receded, leaving him largely on 
his own to face the might of Executive 
displeasure. In Vietnam, there have 
been mines for the harbors and a new 
ferocity of bombs. And, for America, 
there have been developments that leave 
Ellsberg suspecting that our constitu- 
tional democracy, which survived for 196 
years, may be dead. 

Testifying before the Fulbright Com- 
mittee in 1970, he had said: “WI 
might be at stake, if this [Vietnam] in 


volvement goes on, is a change in our 
could 


society as radical and ominous a 
be brought about by our occupat 
a foreign power. ... I'm afraid we c 
not go on like th . and survive as 
Americans. There would still be a coun- 
try here and it might have the same 
name, but it 
country.” 
The combination of total 
control over the war-making apparatus 
that Richard Nixon displayed in the 
spring, the secrecy in which he was able 


would not be the same 


national 


to shroud his decisions and the exten 
sion of his power through the Supreme 
Court's Gravel and Caldwell decisions 
has left Ellsberg fearing that the change 
he referred to two years ago has now 
come about. 


“What we have already seen, I think, 
are the first steps of a coup by the 
Executive branch. 1 believe we are well 
on the way toward, if we have not al- 
ready arrived at, а monarchic form of 
government. And I believe that secrecy 
has played a crucial role in this transition. 

"With the new Supreme Court. deci 
sions, newsmen and elected officials can 
be forced to disclose the source of infor- 
mation that displeases the Executive. If 
Iam found guilty, and the act of leak 
ing thereby becomes a crime, the circle 
is complete. Then we'll have a censor 
ship system that’s airtight—a 
ment press. Then we're in 
chuckled c 


Govern. 
igon.” He 
isticly. “The final step in the 
Vietmamization of America.” 

Tt may have been fun for a while 
being a hero. But that is over now. Daniel 
Ellsberg, no charlatan, looks to the future 
with alarm. He is, above all, a man who 
cares passionately for his country, a man 
who has made of his life a weapon that 
can be used for defense. But now he 
observes, more clearly every day, the 
arsenal that the other side has amassed 


3 


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"юю e 


@ 1972 The Wella Corp. ( = 


199 


PLAYBOY 


200 


BUNNIES OF 1972 (continued from page 146) 


really the only way you can get a con- 
tract these days—to do your own thing. 

Another vocalist is Baltimore Bunny 
Sheila Ross (for five years lead singer 
with The Royalettes), who's now pi 
ing the Playboy Club circuit as a s 
“I guess you'd have ‘to call my style 
contemporary,” Sheila says. “1 do stand- 
ards, rock—sorta mix ‘em up.” As a 
cottontail, Sheila's described by her 
Bunny Mother. dt, as "one 
of our most popular"; as a singer, she's 
scoring points with keyholders and 
guests not only in Baltimore but in 
hicago, New Yor cinmati and 
Boston—the last of which has had her 
back three tim 
ms, television and commercials 
draw talent from among the ranks of 
the Hollywood Bunnies. Marsha Mortis 
and Ninette Bravo won leads two 
produced films; head 
ag Bunny Jaki Dunn has been 
seen frequently on Love, American Style 
IV viewers have prob: 
bly seen Mercy Rooney's commercials 
for Volkswagen, Breck and Dippity-Do, 
or scen her on Laugh-In or Truth or 
Consequences. Lately, Mercy's showbiz 
career has taken a different twi she 
dy Dvore. one of Holly- 
nown movietitle experts, in 
writing а script treatment for a proposed 
film, Frasier the Sensuous Lion—| 
on the nue story of the 
ile beast who 
Country Safari in San Diego. 

"Working with Sandy on the script 
was fasi Mercy says, "but ас 
tually, Y consider myself primarily a 


" 


fashion designer. I've designed clothes 
for Zsa Zsa Gabor, for the Dean Martin 
family, leather outfits for rock-n'aoll 
groups like Chicago—and I also uphol- 
ster furniture professionally. One reason 
I became a Bunny was that 1 wanted 
something consistent, disciplined, in- 
stead of being my own boss.” Somchow, 
in the midst of all this activity, Mercy 
finds time to fly a plane and raise plants 
—“abour 50 of them in my apartment. 
My mother says anybody can have a 
green thumb, but ] must have some- 
thing more—she calls it a green toe. 
g grows for me.” 

Bunnydom seems to exert a special 
attraction for ballerinas, among whose 
are New York's 
а Tina Redech: 


number 


cottontail Li Laura thinks 
she knows why: "Ballet and Bunnying 
require some of the same strength, grace, 
s are heavy, you 
$ y and dancer, she 
admits, are also meant to be looked at 
Laura, who is currently with the Cincin 
Ballet Company, is studying for her 
aster of fine arts degree at the Univer- 
sity of Cincinnati 

When we surveyed this year’s crop of 
cottontails, we discovered some offbeat 
hobbies. Miami's Starr Maddox and Cin- 
ati’s Lon Ann Annis are both prac 
ticing witches. “I've studied five years 
with various white-witchcraft cults, in 
English and Spanish,” says Starr with a 
straight face. “1 can read another per 
son's thoughts, which is very helpful to 


“How about a little Germaine Greer for a change?” 


me as a Bunny, because I often sense 
what a guest is going to order." Lou 
Ann, who has recently been promoted to 
Bunny Mother, should have a prime 
opportunity to use her occult powers on 
Bunnies itrant zippers. 
la Gandy from Denver, Shawn 
Truett from Baltimore and Lynn Lic- 
belt from Cincinnati are part-time auto 
mechanics. Lynn. who also holds three 
beauty titles from her days at the Uni- 
versity of Cincinnati, explains: "I hate 
helpless women—and helpless men even 
more. I don't se anything unfeminine 
about being able to rep: 
OfF-duty entreprei dude Lake 
Geneva's Mary Lou Hilgers, who with a 
friend has just opened an antique shop 
and art boutique, The Original Sun; 
Adanta’s Sunny Miller, who serves as 
forewoman of a 301-acre Charolais cattle 
ranch and recently purchased a grocery 
store-gas station-souvenir shop near the 
entrance to Rock Eagle State Park; and 
New York's Patti Reynolds, who with 
fellow Bunny Lynne Gorey opened 
"Tummyluvs, a health-foods cart based in 
Central Park, last y Lynne has since 
retired from the venture, but Patti pushes 
оп; the enterprise has attracted enou 
local attention to merit appearances oi 
What's My Line and To Tell the Truth. 
The Playboy Plaza’s Nancy Webb 
owned a race horse, Apero, and has 
ridden professionally. “But 1 felt I 
wouldn't make it as a jockey, because 
it’s a very tough circuit.” Plaza Somme- 
lier Bunny Kathleen Tarpe, another 
hore fancier, works as a part-time 
groom at Pompano Park harness track; 
Denver's Di " Wilson breeds Р n 
с and Detroits new Bunny Shawn 
nett meets planes. 
^I hate to sce people get off an 
plane all alon 
happened to me and 
ing. So sometimes I take off for a day 
and go to the airport. If I see people 
who look especially lonely, I go up and 
talk to them, If they don't think you're 
some kind of a nut, theyll talk 10 you.” 
awn, who is studying languages at 
y College in subur- 
a 


ira 


vel and meeting people. 
people is the reason most 
nies give for 
ighlin of St. 
she met Tiny Tim, 
week at the Club there. Tim was so 
taken with her that he composed a song, 
Anita, dedicated 10 her and recorded it 
Opportunities to travel also 
with Playboy's girls, who make full use 
of transfers to other hutches and their 
own flexible schedules to see as much of 
the world as possible. New Orleans has 
expecially peripatetic Bunnies this year: 
is backpacked from Louis 

to California and home again; Carol 


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PLAYBOY 


*I made three 


pilots last season. One 


from TWA and two from American.” 


Bruno and Stefanie Henry are on leave 
to tour Europe; and Abby Craft and a 
girlfriend have been seeing the United 
ates and Mexico via VW microbus. 
Unquestionably the most unusu: 
was that made to Cuba by four Bunnies 
—Stefanie Sokol, Lola Femandez, Nancy 
Webb and Joyce BennettOdlum—along 
with Bunny Mother Bev Rusell of 
the Playboy Plaza. They went as guests 
of the U.S. Navy to be official host- 
esses at the dedication of the new 
N.CO. Club at the С mo Bay 
Naval Base June 20-July 3. 


Altruism appeals to many Bunnies, 
Joyce Bennett Odlum is a volunteer 
for the Miami HELP suicide- 
prevention program. San Francisco's 


Peggy Вепу, 1 
Year for 1970, 


at city’s Bunny of the 
active in the B 
‚ aiding underprivileged 
Andrea Doukas teaches disadvantaged 
children at the Free School of New О, 
Jeans; she took some of them on a field 
trip to the Great Smoky Mountains. And 
in London, Bunny Tracey Hudson за 
weekly volunteer at the Paddington Clin- 
ic and Day Hospital, where she gives 

nd beauty care to psychiatrie 


beauty-care service operated by the Red 
Cross in London. “She has a real unde 
sunding of people and their problem 
Boston's Dollie Shelton hopes to make 
a career of helping prison inmates. Be- 
sides Bunnyhopping three nights a 
week, she works with young first offend- 
ers as a parole agent for the Common- 
анһ of Massachusetts and is in her 
year as a premedical psychology 
major at Brandeis University, "I'm 
ing on my senior honors thesis, 
isic therapy for schizophrenics,” 
Eventually, 1 plan to be a 
minologist-psychologist on the staff of 
some prison.” 
nized charity activities, of course, 
have long been part of the Playboy 
Bunny program. Usually, the cottontails 
par e in sports events—sofiball, 
basketball, volleyball, broomball hockey 
—for benefit of various causes, In 
Baltimore, Bunnies this year stroked 
their way through a 48-hour marathon 
swim to raise funds for the Y. M. C. A. 
Kansas City's Lydia Wickman a 
standout in Bunny basketball, scoring 
30 points in one game, in which the 
cottontails trounced the faculty of Kan- 
sis City Junior College 80 to 59. “We've 
almost reached the point where we no 


longer keep score,” reports Lydia's Bun- 
ny Mother. 

London Bunnies have participated in 
charity soccer matches, fought a Donkey 
Derby engagement against the Pent- 
house Pets and entered the annual 
Waiters and Waitresses race at Batter- 
sea—which Bunny Barbara May won 
Phoenix cottontails sponsor a softball 
team of 8-to-I2-year-old girls who call 
themselves The Playboy Bunnies. 

As befits an international entert: 
Playboy draws Bunnies 
an (Atlanta's Jade Williams) 
h Honduras (Atlanta's Geor- 


grow up 
Gousscn's 

hplace was Nicaragua. From. India 
nen 

fellow couo а Lu- 


s and Marika Tarabova аге from 
Czechoslovakia. The London hutch also 
boasts Adria Aung, a native of Ran- 
ad four Australian sisters; Bun. 


n, Tricia, Carmel and Loretta 


Stratton. 
Moni 


1972, 


1 Bunny of the Y 
Louise Blondin, was bom 
town, Barbados, "but th 
cause my father was a magician who was 
touring the West Indies" Blondin pêre 
is now a Montreal PR man, and Louise 
grew up in Canada—where she's been 

п in three films and 32 TV commer- 

jals. 
Los Angeles Bunnies Patty Maski and 
i Mayo hail from B. ok and 
gon, respectively ather is a 
semiretired South V mese diplomat 
who, she says, “gave his children a good 
waveling background and provided us 
with the knowledge of several lan- 
ges.” The family lived in Thailand, 
nce and Canada belore coming to 
the U.S. ther's whole ambition was 
to settle his children in the United 
States, so that we could all benefit from 
the great educational opportunities in 
this be: al land," Tiana told us. 

Life in the United States is even more 
precious to Los Angeles Bunny Gi 
Moseman, whose family remains in 
Germany. To get out to the West, C 
la crawled through a sewer that dr 
into a border river, which she sw 
os. Formerly a pastry chef, shi 
worked as à Bunny seven and a half 
years in New York and Hollywood. 

We think you'll agree that the Bun- 
nies of 197: kable group. 
We'd be proud to present any of them 
as candidates for next season's Bunny of 
the Year title. The contest, to sc 
successor for the currently re 
Ruthy Ross of Los Angeles, will be 
coming up in March. Next time you 
visit your Club, take а good look around 
and start d ing about casti 
vote for the Bui 


T 


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We did it by putting our 
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wheeled out for air, you can 
take along the Panasonic TR-499. 


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you enjoy the darkest drama on 
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Or if you're wheeling along 
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travel with our TR-001. The 
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give you miles of super-sharp 
viewing, Because the built-in 
batteries in this set, and every 
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For between innings, there's 
the TR-003. That pops up 


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Or down, so you can play tape 
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And finally, when the tourists 
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youcan watch whatever moves 
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PLAYEOY 


204 


GILLON CAMERON coined jron page v) 


the ritual of life played to its very end. 

Glambering and stumbling over the 
brattice, Gillon got up the slippery way 
and threw the salmon into the snow 
near his fire. One eye seemed to follow 
him as he got his staff. With a neat, 
quick blow on the back of its head, 
Gillon killed his fish. “I'm sorry. I'm 
truly sorry,” he said aloud. 

Before the fish froze, Gillon threaded 
his line through. the gills and tied the 
to the head a bow, so that he 
could carry the burden with his staff 
across one shoulder. He took off his 
clothes and stood in his plaid while he 
dried them. The fire frightened him 
now; its enormous lights and shadows 
seemed to dance all through the glen, 
But the drying would have to be done or 
he would die. 

He looked at the walls he had built 
in the pool and he was astounded at the 


work he had done. He'd planned to 
break down those brattices so that the 
water bailiff would never know what 
had happened, but he decided against 
it. They would know the truth by the 
way the stones were packed, and he 
wanted it to become part of the legend 
of the stream—the man who came in the 
night and mined a fish. 

He doused the fire with snow. Then, 
with his burden, he backed slowly up 
along the path through the pines, brush- 
ing out his footsteps with a pine bough. 
An hour or so before sunrise, he set his 
face toward Pitmungo. The sun was 
almost up when he reached the edge of 
the forest. He sat down in the last 
row of trees to зем and to study out the 
nd ahead. On the moor, perhaps a 
half mile to his left, lay a thatched 
cottage, smoke rising from its chimney. 
There would be bacon and eggs there, 
but Gillon was wary of arofters—blcak, 


"That's what's so great about this block. You can read 
about it, you can see it or you can do it.” 


maybe dangerous people, who lived 
their lives in harsh winds. 

He didn’t hear the man come on him. 
He must have dozed off. He felt the 
of something against one of swollen 
feet and looked up. The crofter carried 
a bundle of wood under one arm and 
ап ax in the other hand. 

"Awrel, let's tak a bit 

“What do you mean?" 

“The saumont ГИ hae my share 
now.” The man had a hard, sharklike 
face, the kind you'd expect to see in a 

il. "You're trespassin’ оп my property. 
You stole the fish from crown waters. 
Y'ken what Maccallum would do to you 
gin I told him?" He kept swinging his 
ax in front of Gillon's cycs. Gillon want- 
ed to call that bluff, but his feet were 
too painful for a quick move. 

“A forty-pound bull you gat. How'd 
you get him?” 

“With my bare hands.” 

"Fewkin' lir." He lowered the a: 
“Ah, well, keep your fewkin’ secret. Five 
pounds fish is your passport price or 1 
tell Maccallum." Gillon untied the linc. 
‘The salmon looked beautiful dying there 
in the snow among the pines. 

“What are you canyin’ the heid fori 
The ax came down and the head was 
severed. 

“You bastard,” Gillon said. 

And the dock.” The ax came down 
on the tail. “I would say about there is 
richt.” The ax came down once more 
and a chunk of thc fish, perhaps one 
eighth of the whole, was cut off. “С 
saumont, I'll say that for you. CI 
just in from the sea. Next time you 
maun gae hame by nicht.” The man 
turned his back and headed down the 
path toward the moorland farm. 

Gillon wanted nothing more than to 
sink back and rest on his cushion of 
snow and pine needles. But the thought 
gave him a spurt of fear and he got up. 
If the aofter hadn't come, Gillon would 
have sat there with his back to the tree 
and he'd have frozen to death. 

"You saved my life, you bastard," Gil- 
lon shouted after him. “Tha you. 
Let that bewilder him the rest of his 
wind.riven life, 


he said. 


After a long time of walking, he really 
didn't know how long, he found that 
the snow on the moor had thinned and 
there were islands of green. Finally, he 
came out on a rise and, looking around, 
saw Loch Leven far olf to the cast, deep 
blue, with an icy edge of white. He had 
gone miles too far west and there was 
nothing to do but change his direction. 
He started down into a place called the 
Rough Grazings, cumpy, тимей moor- 
land that blackface sheep did their best 
to rip up. He could sec a few crofts 
tucked away in the creases of ihe moor 
and, eventually, he came across а rough 
track that led him to a little clachan of 


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PLAYBOY 


206 


five or six houses. There were several 
people about, staring shyly at his fish. 

“How far to the Cowdenbeath 
Road?” Gillon asked. He could smell 
oatmeal cakes being cooked somewhere 
in the hamlet. “I'll trade part of this 
saumont for some bannocks," he said. 
They stared at him. "It's all right; it's a 
legal saumont!" he shouted. The people 
went inside their little white cottages 
and shut their doors. 

He could see them looking at him 
through the small, leaded windowpanes. 
He was going to shout again, when he 
suddenly realized that he'd come across 
one of those little islands of Gaclic- 
speakers on the moor, innocents who 
were frightened of anything they 
couldn't understand. The only one who 
hadn't fled was a n with а muck rake 
in his hand, wearing а dungstaincd kilt 
and standing by а byre. 

Gillon walked until there was no more 
snow and searched for just the right 
kind of farm. At last he found it—a 
large twostoried house with a bothy for 
the hired hands behind it. Beyond that, 
all kinds of outbuildings, a byre for the 
cows, а cote for the sheep. Apparently, 
the milking had been finished and some- 
where a man shouted something about 
feeding turnips to the cows, Then a 
man with a lantern came out of the 
iilkhouse, walked across to the bothy 
and went in. Somewhere over by the 
sheepcote, a Border collie was barking. 

Gillon slipped inside the byre and 
closed the door behind him. The odor 
of cow dung and urine took his breath 
away for a moment. The next moment, 
hed gone up the hayloft ladder. He 
made a nest and covered himself with 
the plaid. He reached out his hand 
slid it down the silvery, still-frozen flank. 

Feet woke him—sharp, scurrying little 
feet over his chest and 
Then he heard the squeaks of anger and 

<citement and felt them tugging and 
tearing at his fish—rats. “Get away!" 
Gillon yelled as he felt for his walking 


Шу and he heard some of them squeal, 
but others kept coming. Then there was 
а light on and the voices of men below. 
the name of God 
one of the men called. 

The rats are eating my fish!” Gillon 
shouted. Two men came up the ladder 
into the loft. 

"Oh, Christ Almighty, what a braw 

fish!” With the aid of the light, the 
farm hands began killing the rats joyful- 
ly. “They never seen a saumont before; 
опе of them as he threw rat bodies 
10 a tub. 
“What's the matter, mon? Үсте shiv- 
^, mon.” It hadn't been the rats on 
his own body that had bothered Gillon 
but the thought of them chewing at his 
salmon. 


“This is my family’s Christmas din- 
ner,” he managed to say. 
ch, gie me that, then." One of the 
men picked up the fish and went away. 
Gillon could hear a pump working and, 
а litle later, he came back. The salmon 
was cleansed of blood and there were 
only a few small tears in it. 

“Poacher, are youz” asked 
man, “Workingman? 
"oal miner,” said Gillon. “From 
Pitmungo. But there's no work any 
longer. There's nothing but salt cod for 
Christmas.” 

“Och, mon, that’s aude. Stay here 

and we'll sneak you out with half a 
goose. Micht as well pit a stake through 
your heart as go withoot a Chrisumas 
goose on the table. 
saumont will do very well,” said 
Gillon, а touch annoyed. 
I dinna ken. І never tasted onc," 
They were staring hungrily at his fish. 
Gillon sighed and took the man's knife. 
He cut two steaks from the salmon. 

"Bake it with some butter, understand? 
Don't boil it 

The men nodded and thanked him. 
One of them was already looping a rope 
around the fish to hang it from a beam. 
“You'll be gone by daysky. mon? Mas 
ter thinks 2 mon who'd steal a saumont 
would steal a sheep quick as you can say 
Jock Нес! lon nodded. 


the other 


When he woke again, it was dawn, 
The cocks were telling him. Through a 
little window in the loft, he could see 
the paling stars in 2 clean sky. The 
weather was holding. 

When he'd got down the ladder, he 
saw that almost half his salmon was 
gone. Drymouthed with rage, he sworc 
at those filthy. tards—coming back in 
the night to steal his fish. He thought of 
setting fire to the byre. 

Then he saw a Galloway come across 
the floor and, just as if she were a trained. 
i nimal, risc up on her hind leg: 
until her nose and tongue just tipped 
what was left of the fish. The salmon 
had been trimmed to the exact height of 
the tallest and longestnecked cow in the 
byre. 

About 20 pounds of salmon left. Who 
could ever tell that this had once been a 
great salmon, a cock among cocks? Still, 
there was enough for Christmas dinner. 
For all that, it wasn't sall cod. He shoul- 
dered it and started out to the Cowden- 
beath Road. If everything went right, 
he'd be in Pitmungo before the stars 
came out again 

The blister came 


without 


warn 


ng. 
He'd been walking well for some time, 


but suddenly there came a great pain, as 
if he'd been struck by something. He 
took off his shoe and sock and w 
frightened by the mess he found. The 
swelling of his foot had given birth to 
the blister and the freezing of it had 


masked the pain. His heel was а raw- 
looking red-and-purple knob and the 
flesh burned in the icy wind. There was 
nothing to do but sit by the road and 
hope for a ride. 

In time, a farmer's cart came trun- 
dling down the road toward Соме 
bcath. "Can you take a man along 
Gillon called. "I'm trying to get hom 
for Christma 

The farmer looked at him and was 
slow to answer, Finally, he said, “It's a 
weak hore and a sair fraucht" He 
paused. “But if you could make it worth 
his while?” 

Gillon м 
on steak? 

“Aye, if it’s fresh. He's gey fickle.” 

Gillon looked at his foot and then 
back to the man. "Give me your knife," 
he said dourly. 

They didn’t talk until they'd reached 
the town. When Gillon was getting out, 
the man said, “Wrap the foot in beech 
leaves; that will drain and poultice 
Then he suddenly held out his hand 
and added, “God bless you, and a joyful 
Christmas to you.” 

Gillon hobbled directly to the house 
of a widow on Fordell Sucet. He knew 
her because she sold knitted socks and 
underwear to miners, He bought a pair 
of heavy socks, put them on and went 
ocless Out on the road again, he 
found that his foot felt better and he 
began to walk with less pain. 

When he reached a beech grove, he 
took off his socks and went over a plashy 
part of the moor to get some leaves. 
He brought them back and, without 
looking at the blister, covered it. Then 
he donned the socks again. Gillon 
lahored on. 

By the time he had reached High 
Moor, the sun was resting on the hori 
lt seemed only a few paces alter 
before he saw the cold moon in the 
sky and the first star, АП that kept him 
going was the thought of his salmon 
over a good, dancing flame, He could 
smell the richness. In the rest of Pitmun- 
go. they would be making sauces to 


iced. "Would he like a salm- 


disguise the cod. They'd be boiling the 
He 


bony fish to soften its leathery hid 
stopped a moment at the top of Hi 
Moor to savor both thoughts, 

The fist cat picked Gillon up just 
before the path went down through 
White Coo plantation. At first, it 
seemed to be interested in his foot 
Then, without warning, it sprang half- 
way up his back in an effort to get at 
the fish. He shook it off and shouted. 
But when the cat 
leaped with a thump and Gillon felt the 
daws through his plaid. He shook it off 
in wearily and gave a cut at it with his 
stick. But now there were four of them, 
stalking him just out of his range. Gil- 
Jon backed to one of the orchard trees, 


Watson, my dear fellow—you ve 


“Ah, 


207 


penetrated my little disguise!” 


PLAYBOY 


208 


took off his pl 


4, folded it and. placed 
it, along with his shoes, in a high crotch. 
He'd have to battle his way home 
through these last, ludicrous predators. 

Baudrons they called them in Piunun- 
go—the wild and homeless cats of the 
neighborhood. By the time he got down 
through the orchard, there were six of 
them, circling and waiting for a misstep, 
eying their Christmas dinner under Gil- 
lon's arm. 

It was a bad half mile, with Gillon 
чуй to keep his tortured ісер under 
him and striking only when he had to. 
Once, he twisted quickly and caught a 
fierce black one coming in almost chest 
high. The brass knob struck it just be- 
hind the car. He swung the stick sharply 
to his left and a wail told him that 
he'd scored another hit. That gave him 
enough respect from the cats to let him 
hobble on to the terrace 

There were lighi every. window 
on Tosh-Mungo Terrace and smoki 
from the chimneys. Saltcod Christmas 
wouldn't be dark and cold, at least. 
From several houses came the sound of 
singing. the old Scottish carols that al 
ways made Gillon sad 

He looked through the window of the 


Г; 


7 


у 


уу 


D 


227 


Japps house and he could see a quarter 
rcl of ale in the front room. He could 
almost taste it on his tongue—that with 
а wee drop of whisky. 

His attackers were caterwauling now. 
When somebody came to a window and 
looked out into the darkness, Gillon im- 
agined what an absurd sight he must be. 
A shocless, half-frozen man, unshaven, 
his hair wild from the wind, his shirt 
ripped by fish and rats and cats, starva- 
tion in his face. A man with a pillaged 
chunk of fish held high on his shoulder 
and driven along the street by a wild 
band of reiving cats. 

Now he was approaching his own 
door. The poacher home from the hills 
—Christ knew, he hadn't much to show 
for it all, only about 16 or 17 pounds of 
cock salmon. But Gillon was happy. 
He'd stood up and made some kind of 
testimony to a world that lelt nothing 
but salt cod to the poor on Christmas. 
And none of the rest of them, all up 
and down the rows of Pitmungo, had 
done it. 

He looked through the window and 
saw the family seated around the bare 
table. His boy Andr seemed to be 
saying grace. It was He 


ew 
me to enter. 


"Care to tell me just what you 
want the car for tonight?” 


pushed trough the door and stood in 
the brightness inside, triumphantly. 

“Oh, what did they do to you, Dad- 
die?” asked Sam 

"Nothing." said Gillon. “I did it to 
them this time.’ 

He crossed the room and laid his fish 
on the table amid exclamations. It 
looked big and beautiful on the bare 
wood. “A bonny saumont!" said Andrew. 

But Maggie was looking at her hus 
band. “You've lost your tammie! You've 
lost your braw bonnet!” 

Gillon's hand went to his head: he 
had no memory of any tammie. Had it 
gone under in the pool? That must be it 
"Who cares about a bonnet?” asked Sam. 
He went to the sideboard and got out a 
bottle of whisky. He poured everybody 
a drink, in teacups and tassie: 

“Ко saltcod Christmas for the Camer- 
ons!” said Gillon in a ringing v 
and they all lifted their whiskies 
drank to that tons 


Ic was Gillon’s daughter Sarah. who 
saved his foot. She tended him, but, 
after a week, when it got no better, Dr 
Gowrie was called in. He stared at it 
nd said, "In some daft way, you've 
managed to get yourself a good frostbite, 
and after you did that, you went on and. 
humiliated the flesh. Jf you want my 
opinion"—he touched the ankle with 
his foreinger—"it wants taking off 
about here. 

“No!” said 5 
legs in this family 
one, thank you. 
When it turns black, you'll come 
crawling to me, Cameron. Don't crawl 
100 late," the doctor said as he left. 

But Sarah's faith and patience were 
unending. She drained the wound con- 
nily; she mixed а poultice of oatmeal 
10 draw the infection ou n the 
smell grew very bad, she burned pulver- 
ized coffee beans in a shovel over the 
fuc. She sat by his bedside. 

There was no single day when he got 
ter, but at least he got no worse. In 
bruary, Gillon decided that he could 
walk. But when he tried, the [oot 
swelled like a frog's throat, ugly and 
white. In March, there seemed to be 
some improvement and he got a shoe on 
for an hour or so. Things went better 
after that. 

On the first day of May, called Bel- 
апе, when people all over Scotland 
were washing their faces in the May dew. 
on the moors, Gillon dressed 
duds and went down the hill to ger 
work in Lord Fyffe Number One. By 
afternoon, he was howking coal 3000 
feet below the surface of the earth, and 
seemed to him that he could never 
remember doing any other thing in 


his life. 
E 


h. “We've lost two 
ıd we'll keep this 


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PLAYBOY 


210 


BREAKOUT (continued from page 91) 


was out, Pussy would make more than 20 
tips to Mexico City. Even Kaplan, by 
then suspicious of nearly everyone, came 
to trust hi 


The newest plan, on which Kaplan 
had been working for months, involved 
a transfer to the minimum-security pris- 
on at Cuernavaca. He needed the dean- 
er air of the Cuernavaca mountains, 
Kaplan alleged in a series of petitions, 
10 recove frequent bouts of 
hepatitis over-all i 


from 
nd the 
that had resulted. Once there, 
soned, escape should be easy; at Cuerna- 
. prisoners were permitted to go 
into town, enjoying freedom comparable 
to what might be allowed a student in a 
i ican prep school. 
Stadier was aware—as was Kaplan 
ii de- 
ight as easily 
he rede On the road 
10 Cuernavaca, there is a turnoff into a 
gravel pit. There's more than gravel in 
this pit; it’s also liberally strewn with 
human bones. Here a prisoner could be 
pulled out of a car at gunpoint, told to 
run for his life—and shot “in the act of 
escape." What beiter way for a well- 
bribed oficial to protect himself from 
the accusation that he'd been a well- 
bribed official? 


debili: 


the transfer 


So Stadier set up a protection system. 
Pussy would be at the wheel of one саг 
waiting outside the prison gate, ready to 
follow the car containing Kaplan. 
obvious t; Ч са, 
with a high-power spotlight, would be 
stationed less than а mile down the 
road, in case of complications; this car 
would be loaded with heavy artillery— 
and Stadter, A third car would be wa 
ш; at Cuernavaca. Word came through 
that the transfer would be made the 
night of January 16, 1971. Stadter 
his three cars waited all night, in vain; 
no vehicle entered or lett the prison. 
That didn't stop the bureauaats who 
were allegedly engineering the move 
from calling Kaplan's Mexican wile, 
Irma, whom he'd married while in pr 
on, and demanding $80,000 in payment 
for a successful transfer. 

Conditioned by then to failure, Irma 
temporized: she would drive to Santa 
Marta prison and sce for herself. Her hus- 
band was there. No one had contacted 
him. He had passed another of the semi- 
sleepless nights that had been troubling 
him for weeks. 

Stade 


an 


А sec mounted 


and 


to k 


was mot surprise am, 
some time later, that the “officials” who 
had been arranging the transfer, and 


screaming for their money, had been 


“Really, Chang, 


why don't you just take an aspirin?” 


ousted from office months before, They 
were no longer officially anything. 

time, Stadter told himself, it 
would be dillerent, This time the proj- 
ect was solidly in his hands, The way 
he read it, the simplest thing to do was 
to buy Kaplan out with straight cash. 
Hit the right officials this time—with his 
contacts, he was sure he could do 
L This was Mexico, and 
never heard of a prisoner who 
t be sprung with a sufficient sum 
of money. He began talking to people 
he knew, important people. letting it be 
known he had lots of money to olfer. 


Judy had promised to back him to 
the 


mit of whatever resources she had 


1 news came back from con- 
act after contact: "This Kaplan busi- 
ness. И 1 were you, I'd forget it.” Stadter 
was stunned; with Kaplan, the door w: 
mysteriously shut. 

Matters took another odd turn with 
the arrival at Stadter's hotel of a stocky 
man in sunglasses, a figure straight out 
of John LeCané, who propoxd 10 
Stadier that, in the unlikely event that 
he did spring Kaplan, his associates— 
unidentified, of course—woukl be happy 
to pay him $50,000 to toss the prisoner 
back into Mexico. Stadter speculated on 
who the backers might be. Were they 
from the CIA? ‘The Mafia? Cuban exiles 
who opposed Kaplan's known sympathy 
for the Castro left? Kaplan's Uncle 


had 


t stake to 


uly in the afternoon of June 10, 
1971, a slight, dark, inconspicuous man 
we'll call Alfred Court arrived at. Mexi- 


co City International Airport from N 
York, carrying a flight bay containing a 
few personal effects. He told customs 


officials that he'd come to Mexico City 
to visit friends and that he inte 
stay only a few days. He wa 
without question. 

If the officials had. searched him, they 
might have discovered a provocative cu- 
riosity. Court was wearing a 
trimmed black nor in itself 
tling, bur underneath the wig Court's 
indo was ide Why would a 


neatly 


star- 


own h 


Court. was wearing it be 
by profession, a make-up artist and occ 
sional operative of one Victor E. Stad 
ter, who had decided that he 
couldn't buy Kaplan out of prison, he 
would walk him out. The ailing Kaplan 
was currently in the prison hospital. and 
Pussy had already placed two hospital 
guards and one female receptionist on 
Stadter’s payroll. The plan was uncom- 
plicated. as all good plans ought to be. 
Court would enter the Sama Mar 


usc he was, 


since 


prison with a friend—Pussy—ostensibly 
to yisit the prisoner Kaplan. Inside the 
hospital room, Court would remove the 
wig, place it on Kaplan’s head, perform 
a rapid make-up job with cosmetics he 
was carrying and switch clothes with 
him. When he was finished, Kaplan 
would look exactly like him. Then Pussy 
would drug and bind Court, making 
a appear the victim rather than the 
perpetrator, and, with Kaplan, would 
stroll nonchalantly out the gate. There 


ce that 


es 
Court would be found out, but to him 
that was a reasonable gamble. He'd 
worked [or 
judgment. He'd be paid $2500, plus ex- 
penses, for a few days work; whats 
more, he could ahways tell the story to 
his grandchildren, Everything was ready 
10 go when, suddenly and inexplicably, 
Kaplan was pronounced medically fit 
and transferred out of the hospital back 
10 his dormitory cell, making the scheme 
impossible to execute. 

Only momentarily nonplused, Stadter 
caught the next flight to Los Angeles, 
where he made contact with another old 


„ of course, a slight d 


der enough to trust his 


associate, Dr. N. Inside of a few hours, 
the medico had put together the ingredi- 
ents of a pill chat would give Kaplan an 
attack of shakes and fever strikingly simi- 
lar to the symptoms of malaria. Puss 
on a prison visit, would administer the 
pill; but since its effects would last only 
24 hours, they would have to make their 
move on the following day. With a few 
recuperitive aspirin tablets, Kaplan 
should be as good as new. 

But when Pussy went to the prison to 
reconnoiter, he found a shocker: А spe- 
cial guard was posted at the front gate 
all suspicious hairdos. In fact, 
or who wasn't totally bald was 


lo tug 


every vis 


to be challenged 
Stadter never found out where the 
had come from. 


Kaplan was drunk. With every. frus 
cd hope he was, he realized, becoming 
more paranoid, convinced Шш as he 
ploued to get out, someone, somewhere, 
was plotting to keep him in. His cellmate, 
an irrepressible Venezuelan forger named 
Carlos Antonio Contreras Casto, tied 
to cheer him by spiriting in quarts of 
light Bacardi. For that, Kaplan was grate 
ful, but there were times when Castro's 
garrulity got him down. This was one of 
those times, 

“I was drunk, but I didn't want to 
liste 
calls. 


ua 


to Castro anymore," Kaplan re 
So 1 got up from my bed and said 
going to take a walk in the yard. 
He thought I was crazy. It was the 
wrong time of day for that, the middle 
of the ud blown 
olf by that sun, he said. I didn't care, 
“As I walked around the patio, the 


Iw 


tcrnoon; I'd get my hu 


{OOF + EARLY TIMES DISTILLERY CO., LOL 


H 
Е 
5 
Н 


211 


PLAYBOY 


sun made my head spin. The more I 
walked, the less important anything 
seemed. And then, while I was standing 


there like a drunken boob in the middle 


of the yard, it hit me—the weirdest idea 
of all, yet unmistakably the simplest: 

"I could fly out of here in a 
helicopter 


‘The minute Stadter heard of Kaplan's 
he sensed it would work. All 
the fundamentals appeared to be in or 
der: There was an inner courtyard with- 
out supervision of any kind, accessible 
to Kaplan at specific hours and, above 
all, not visible from any watchtower 
above the prison walls. All Stadter had to 
do was get a helicopter in there and take 
him ош. There were, as he put it, “only 
30 or 40 things that might go wrong.” 

The first problem, as he saw it, was 
that the project would take time to or 
i nd time would breed leaks. As a 
result, he would Keep hinself—and as 
much information as possilble— from 
Mexico City in general and from Kap- 
Jan particular. Kaplan would have 
to sweat out his progress on blind faith. 

There was also the question of cost. 
Just for openers, they'd need a helicop- 
ter that could operate at Santa Marta’s 
altitude (7600 feet), with its thin air. 
Judy wasn't sure if she had enough 
money, but she'd find a way of getting it. 

Then, too, Stadter needed a helicop- 
ter pilot. Old airplane pilots wer 
dime a dozen, but helicopters were 
a young man's ball game. Old-time 
pilots don't even consider helicopters air- 
t, just big dumb toys, floppy and un- 
as Stader pointed 
out later, “you just don't go around to 
any helicopter pilot you might run into 
and say, “Mister, I got this guy I want 
to spring from a Mexican pen, and J need 
your help.’ You've got to know the man 
first; he’s got to be someone you can 
trust.” In desperation, Stadter himself 
tried to learn to fly a chopper, signing up 
for double lessons, at two schools simul- 
taneously. 1t went badly. 

Finally he called on an old pilot 
friend, Harvey Orville ("Cotton"). Dail. 
"Cotton had never flown choppers ei 
ther,” says Stadter, "but the way I fip- 
ured him, he could learn to fly anything 
as long as he had a rubber band to wind 
up the propelle 

Cotton, а big, tough Irish-Cherokee 
‘Texas farm boy in his carly 40s, was less 
sanguine. “It won't work," he told Stad- 
ter when Stadter flew down to see him at 
his home in Eagle Lake, Texas. “They I 
blow the damn chopper right out of the 
-" It took five days to persuade him. 

To teach Cotton how to fly a helicop- 
ter, Stadter hired а 29-year-old bearded 
Victnam-war veteran named Roger Guy 


a 


212 Hershner from the Brackett Field Air- 


стай Service in La Verne outside Los 
Angeles. Hershner had been brought 
up in the solid, conservative tradition of 
Mansfield, Ohio, where he had learned 
to play a pretty fair piano and а not- 
so-fair trombone. His romance with 
helicopters had begun when he was 
assigned to a ground crew in Vietnam; 
when he got out of the Army, he used 
his GI Bill benefits to study flying. 
When one of his students at Brackett, 
Vic Stadter, offered him a new job for 
mote money—and plenty of chances to 
fly—he took it. If its secrecy was strange, 


Hershner was discreet enough not to ask 


The plotters needed an idea of the 
dimensions of the prison courtyard and 
the height of the wall over which the 
copter would have to fly. Stadter had 
Pussy smuggle a Minox camera to Kap- 
Jan, so that he could photograph the 
patio from all angles. The pictures were 
clear enough, but the ions were 
too obscure for an accurate estimate, 
What was needed was for somebody to go 
in and pace off the arca—and. Pussy was 
unreachable, off in the hills somewhere 
between Mexico City and Brownsville, 
Texas, stashing fivegallon fuel cans in 
preparation for the helicopter's getaway. 

Stadter put in a call to his brotheri 
law, Eugene Wilmoth. Well-dre: 
well-spoken, the 6/2” Wilmoth—a sales 
man for а soap-manufacturing company 
—was imposing enough to impress any 
Mexican bureaucrat. Stadter sent him to 
Mexico City, with instructions to friends 
to get him into Santa Marta as ing 
ollicial of some kind. The problem was 
that Wilmoth couldn't speak а word of 


P 


Sometimes the most audacious plan 
succeeds best. Big Gene was brought 
into Santa Marta as а Venezuel: 
cialis. in penology. The warden hi 
escorted the VIP on an hourlong tou 
undating him with descriptions in 
staccato Spanish, to which the towering 
dignitary nodded in solemn agreement, 
occasionally even extending a smile. 
Nothing was withheld from the visitor, 
and when he came to the patio that 
serviced the prisoners of dormitory num- 
ber one, no one noticed that he stopped 
a moment to take note of certain land- 
тан ће basketball court, Ше height 
of the dormitory wall—nor that he 
paced the entire length and width of the 
arca with one of the prisoners, that 
annoying little American who had mur- 
dered his partner. 

The way Stadter saw it, when Wil- 
moth reported the dimensions, a $30,000 
Bell Model 47 chopper would do the 
job handily. That machine is a small 
four-seater popular with oil-exploration 
companies operating in the back coun 


ough power to lift pilot and a 
passenger, even at Santa Marta’s alti- 


tude—especially if they were to strip the 
аай of all unnecessary weight, extra 
scats, doors, trimming, and so on. “I may 
even have to shave," said Cotton. 


In Mexico, the law regarding jail 
breaks is unusually civilized. It rccoj 
nizes a prison exape as legal if no 
broken in the process: in other words, if 
there is no violence to person or proper- 
ty, no bribery of officials. The helicopter 
scheme, it succeeded, would meet 
those criteria. But Stadter had to get his 
equipment to Mexico City legally, as 
well—and passing through customs with- 
out incident, especially with a helicopter 
and given his reputation with border 
guards, was likely to be sticky. He need- 
cd a cover to justify the entire opera- 
tion. And so was born the Milandra 
Mining Company—named after Stad- 
ta's wile, Mary Milandia—with supposed. 
interests in Honduras, The helicopter 

ing com- 


was duly registered in the mi 
pany's name. 

Stadter was now operating in the way 
he liked best, treading a delicate line 
between the legitimate and the fraudu- 
lent, covering himself so artfully that 
those idiot bureaucrats would see noth- 
g. He was feeling great when the 
telephone vang. It was Irma, calling from 
Mexico City. Kapl 1 decided that 

is cellmate of these past three years, 
Castro, was to be flown out with him, 

Stadter exploded: “Goddamn it, по, 
по, no! The chopper will never be 
able to lift another passenger. ICI hard- 
ly lift wo at that altitude. Doesn't 
he know about thin ait? Tell him it's 


was adamant. Stadter threat- 
ened to pull out. Kaplan insisted. Stale- 
mate. At last Stadter relented; after all, 
was Kaplan's game. But they'd have to 
buy another helicopter. It had to have a 
turbosupercharger, giving its engine the 
at 10,000 feet as it had at 
sea level; nor could it be much larger 
than the little Bell 47 they'd planned to 
use. The courtyard was too small. As 
Cotton put it: “You can't park a Caddie 
in a VW garage.” 

Cotton and Stadter spent precious 
weeks scouring the broad spaces of the 
Far West, calling or visiting dealer, track- 
ing down all possibi 
there dt at Natrona Ser 
Casper, Wyoming. The ad in the av 
al had said: “Bell 47, rccondi 
it, reupholstered, with new 
ger designed for use in high 
altitudes, used to fly over 8000 fect. 
The chopper, а magnificent. plaything 
with over $100,000 worth of work on it, 
had been rebuilt by a millionaire for use 


same power 


Чез, until finally, 


xs in 


was, 


"Isn't that sweet. He's telling us it’s our bedtime.” 


213 


PLAYBOY 


"The secret of my success, Henry, lies in the very 
sound advice my father once gave me. ‘Son,’ he said, 


*here's a million dollars. Don't lose it. 


in taking friends to a private lake resort 
high in the Wyoming Rockies. Now it 
would perform for another mil 
who was momentarily at the other end 
of the social spectrum 

Stadter had. planned to buy the craft 
on cedit, making a normal down pay- 
ment and paying the balance in install- 
ments, "Then the guy checked around 
and found out who I was,” he reported 
later. “He said, 'Stadter, they say you 
got a poor life expecta That meant 
cash on Ше barrelhead. Hell, he 
wouldn't even sell me gas on credi 

He had to shell out $65,000 for i 

Now Stadter had his basic ingredients. 
He began to assemble his cast of men 
and machines at Houston, where he'd 
decided to make his headquarters for 
the final stage of the assault. First he 
traded in his cumbersome two-engine 
Cessna 310 on a fast single-engine Cess- 
na 210, which conceivably would attract 
less attention at the smaller Mexican 
airports he intended to use. The Ces 
like the helicopter, was registered in the 
name of M. Milandra. Cotto: as con- 
tinuing his flying lessons with Hershner 
and everything appeared to be going 
smoothly—when word came of another 
setback. Pussy, Stadter’s trusted operative 
who was the liaison between Kaplan and 


naire, 


214 his rescuers, had been stricken with severe 


headaches and sporadic seizures of blind- 
ness. The medical diagnosis was posible 
brain tumor, with immediate surgery ай- 
vised, Pussy would have none of that; he 
took himself off to an Indian reserv: 
in New Mexico, where he knew a w 
doctor. Stadter saw him off with m 
At апу rate, Pussy was scratched for the 
duration of the assignment. 

Kaplan, meanwhile, was growing 
more and more edgy. He conjured up a 
plan of old-fashioned ferocity: There 
would be a special car parked outside 
the main gate, to be smokebombed. by 
the Cessna 210 as a decoy. The chopper 
would slide in а few minutes later from 
the opposite side of the prison, machine 
guns blazing at the tower guards, flak 
suits and rifles ready for the getaway. 

Stadter preferred to work quietly. 

You don't shoot at the guards, you 
wave at them. Any pro know: 
Trying to soothe Kaplan, he sent his 
new son-in-law down to Santa Marta for 
The cmissary returned, reporting 
that Kaplan looked “sicker than the last. 
dead man 1 saw." АП in all Stadter 
wasn't really surprised when Irma 
showed up, having flown all the way 
from Mexico Gity to Houston with a 
Polaroid camera in her handbag. Kap- 
lan wanted her to get a picture of the 
copter, with her standing alongside, so 
he could be sure it really existed—that 


a visi 


he wasn’t being taken for a ride more 
financial than physical. 
ve always wanted to ride in a heli- 

copter," Irma remarked as she put the 
Polaroid back into her bag. “I've scen the 
attorney general's copter in Mexico City 
several times.” 

"How do you know it’s the attorney 
general's?” asked Stadter. 

"It's all blue,” she replied. 

Stadter ordered a blue paint job for 
the Bell 47. 


Now Stadter sought а woman, а spe- 
cial kind of wom: Someone who 


looked like a high-class whore. From his 
experience, a man didn't drive into 
Mexico alone if he wished to avoid the 
suspicions of the dozen or so officials 
he'd confront in the course of his tip. A 
Joner must surely be up to some illicit 
operation, they'd reason. But a well- 
dressed man in a big, flashy car, with a 
handsome whore wearing an inch and a 
half of make-up and blonde hair tossed 
up to the roof? Well, that was easy to 
understand. He had gotten away with 
the ploy many times before—often using 
a girl who was now unavailable; 
bridegroom had put his foot down regard- 
ing such irregular behavior. 

The way Stadter saw it, it was just as 
hard to find the right woman as to find 
the right chopper pilot. "You need a 
woman who can keep her mouth shut, 
and there ain't too many of them!" But. 
he recalled a big blonde he'd seen a num- 
ber of times at a truckstop diner near his 
home in Glendora, California, a big 
Italian woman who painted herself up to 
make Jess of her 35 years. He made her an 
offer and she accepted. 

He needed the proper car to complete 
the image. Preferably something like a 
Cadillac Coupe de Ville in Baroque 
Bronze, a touristy showboat built for 
weekend pleasure, a reliable car that 
could move when it had to. A car ex 
actly like the Caddie owned by Cotto 

“OK, but how much 

“Well, you can have the blonde.” 

"Shecit, Vic, 1 ought to charge you 
for servicing hei 

But they struck a bargain. At b 
Stadter was ready to proceed south; hel 
copter, fast airplane, pilot, Cadillac and 
blonde set to go. 

Then came another telephone call 
from Irma. Kaplan had just undergone 
an emergency appendeciomy in the pris- 
on hospital. He couldn't be moved for 
at least a week, probably longer. 

In the coffee shop at the Houston 
airport, Cotton sat down next to Stad- 
ter, It had been ten days since Kaplan's 
operation, and the patient was fully 
recovered. But Cotton looked rocky. He 


her 


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PLAYBOY 


216 


had a toothpick in his mouth and he 
hadn't eaten a bite yet. It was a bad sign. 
"Vie" he said, “T ain't ready to fly 
t thing: 
“What?” 

“I need more time. Give me another 


à bitch 


ass. It just might be that there was no 
way anyone could get him out. 

Of one thing Stadter was sure: He 
didn’t want to hang around Houston 
another week, not with that bright blue 
helicopter, the green-and-white Cessna, 
the big blonde whore, the Baroque 
Bronze Cadillac. Too conspicuous. 

He sought out Hershner, the bearded 
young helicopter instructor. "Siddo 
Roger, I've got a proposition for you 

“Oh?” 


“The way I sce it, you don't know 
what this whole thing is all about 
Righ 


"None of my business, I guess." 

“Right. Well, we're involved in some 
thing—it’s not entirely on the square. 
Is legal in the U.S. A. but not in 
Mexico. You see, we're gonna be stealing 
some test ore down there, at a mine in 
Honduras. We're gonna go in with the 
chopper and take it out.” 

"Oh.' 

“їз а dangerous business, Roger. I 
gotta admit there are Indians down 
there, and maybe they'll shoot at you, 


but they don't shoot too good, I guaran- 
lee you ^ 

“What? 

"Look, I'll pay you some real good 
money. 

“You mean you want me to fly the 
chopper all the way down to Honduras 
and take out that orc?” 

"Well, yeah.” 

"Well, sure, Vic. Why not?” 

Three machines, four bodies. Togeth- 
er, then separately, they began the tre 
south to the border, flying the pennants 
of the Milandra Mining Company. Stad- 
ter, dressed up in shiny Texas boots and 
ped bell-bouom trousers, sitt 1 be- 
hind the wheel of Cotton's shimm 
bronze Caddie with 
side. Cotton, relieved of chopper duty by 
mutual consent, returned to flying what he 
considered legitimate aircraft, the Cessna 
210—which he was to take to the border 
city of Brownsville, where he would 
check inte Mexico with appropriate 
papers and then toward rhe 
holdings in Honduras. All strictly 
mate. There was but one final bit 
of tampering to be done. The Cessn 
registration, clearly marked on its fuse 
‚ read N9462X before Cotton went to 
work on it with a wad of tape. With a 
few artfully placed strips. it soon read 
N84892X, When Cotton took off for the 
border, he radioed his correct regi 
tion. But when he landed at the Mexi- 
can border town of Matamoros, the 
number was changed. 


мг 


ing 
s fair lady at his 


go on 


stra 


Cotton flew on to Tampico, where he 
checked into the Hotel Impala to await 
word from his boss. Meanwhile, Hersh- 
ner climbed aboard the Bell 47 and 
flew to McAllen Field, near the Mexican 
horder. There he was joined by Stadter, 
the Caddie and the blonde—and by 12 
empty fivegallon (исі cans, to be filled, 
stashed and used for the chopper on the 
return tip. АП of Pussy's earlier caches 
had been discovered, presumably by 
Indians. 


Stadter and the blonde crossed the bor- 
der without a hitch. “I told the Mexic 
immigration people that I was just an 
old tourist going down for a few days of 
fun. Sure, I was married, but this was 
not my wife. Just a friend. Jesus, I even 
winked at them. They took one good 
look the blonde—I don’t know why, 
but they love blondes—and I knew they 
weren't going to remember me, just her. 
I slipped them a ten-spot and they gave 
us tourist cards. Off we went, to thc 
Mexican customs. I gave them another 
tenspot and they smiled like true gen- 
tlemen, put stickers on the suitcases— 
without opening them—and we became 
bona fide tourists. It’s all very predictable 
if vou play your cards right.” 

It wasn't so simple for Hershner and 
the helicopter. A helicopter on business, 
however clean, is suspect —while a m: 
ed Texan with a hooker friend is finc. 
Stadter could see Hershner trapped. in- 
side the office, being interrogated by 
batch of customs officers jabbering away 
5 ish—of which Hershner under- 
nothing. Helpless to intercede, 
rer could only watch. 

Finally, they det Hershner go. He 
came out smiling. 

“Welcome to Mexico, kid,” said Stadier. 

“Is it any easier going back? 

“Only on Christmas Eve. 

"Wow. If they lock me up. Vic, сап 
you get me ош? 

Stadter had to laugh. “Why, sure, 
Roger. Easy as pic.” 

The helicopter flight plan called for 
Hershner to proceed south to La Pesca 
а small fishing lage on the Gulf of 
Mexico, about 200 miles from Reynosa 
At the airfield there, he could fill up on 
gas: and there was no radio—a plus in 
Stadter’s pla all possible con- 
At Reynosa, they 
filled the 12 fuel cans, loaded them into. 
the chopper and went their ways—Stad 
ter in the Cadillac, Hershner in the 
Bell. To Stadter’s delight, he could bai 
rel down the open road fast enough to 
pace the lelicopter. To a regular air- 
craft, that would be the ultimate insult. 
Stadter conjured up a thousand future 
barroom arguments as he fancied him- 
self waiting for the helicopter at the 
scheduled meeting spot of Tamuin. He 


stood 


was laughing so hard that he didn't 
immediately hear the right front tire 
blow. The car swerved violently, coming 
treacherously close to a deep ditch, skit 
tering and screeching until he was final- 
ly able to wrestle it to a stop. 

“Very funny,” said the blonde. 

Stadter changed tires. Jt was small 
satisfaction that he was able to catch up 
with the chopper less than 30 minutes 
later. 

Hershner was having his own trou- 
bles. When he got to the airfield at La 
Pesca, he discovered not only that there 
was no radio—there was no fuel. It was 
just as Stadter had told him: Expect 
only the unexpected. Hershner flew due 
west to Ciudad Victoria to gas up 

Next, to stash those fuel cans, He 
had wondered about them. A helicopter 
averaging 65 miles an hour runs through 
15 gallons an hour. The 12 cans would 
total 60 gallons, enough for four hours’ 
flying time, or a little more than 250 
m he shortest route to Honduras 
was a lot longer than that. But then, he 
wasn't getting paid to think. It was like 
the Army, maybe even including the 
shooting. The big difference this time 
around was the money; he would be 
making more in one week than he could 
save in a year. And Stadter had told h 
man could have a good time in Mexico, 

west 


a few mil 


South from Victor 


of the tiny village of Ajascador, Hersh- 
ner found a clearing in the jungle, He 
hovered over it, marked the location on 
his map, then dropped softly to the 
ground 

On arriving in Tamuin, Stadter called 
Couon in Tampico. All was well, the 
pilot reported. They exchanged the usu- 
al pleasantries of two men involved in a 
routine business matter and hung up. 

Tamuin is a quiet town, a few miles 
off Route 85 to Mexico City, not listed 
in most tourist guides. The hotel, out- 
side the town itself, is an old inn sur- 
rounded by heavy foliage, with Spanish 
decor, arched ceilings and tile floors. Here 
Stadter took Hershner and the blonde, to 
kecp them out of view. It was Ше kind of 
place he loved, where every courtesy was 
returned. with courtesy, where the place 
was real, ageless and пее of all garish 
nonsense designed to impress people. 
They spent the evening sitting over a 
simple but excellent Mexican dinner. 
No radio. No TV. They had moved 
back into another century. 

It was a perfect place to spend the 
night before the hit at Santa Marta. 


In Tampico, on the morning of 
Wednesday, August 18, Cotton rose ear- 
ly, had a quick cup of coffee and caught 
a taxi to the airport. The Cessna was 
there, safely parked. He left it there and 
hopped а commercial-airline flight to 
Mexico City; the fewer takeoffs and 


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218 


landings the Cessna made, the less it 
would be noticed. 

Irma picked him up outside the Ай- 
port Holiday Inn in Mexico City a few 
minutes before ten. They drove out to 
Santa Marta for what appeared to be a 
routine visit to the prisoner, Joel Kaplan. 

“Cotton didn't stay long,” Kaplan re- 
calls, “just long enough to give me the 
instructions. He said they were ready to 
come for us, but he wasn't sure exactly 
when. Castro and I were to start walk- 
ing the patio that evening at exactly 
6:30 and stay out there until seven. If 
they didn’t come for us that night, we 
were to go back the next evening, and 
again the next. Always from 6:30 to 
seven. For identification, we were each 
to carry a newspaper. The helicopter 
would touch ground and remain there 
for no more than ten seconds. We had 
ten seconds to get aboard. That was all 
there was to it. There would be no 
further communications. 

"I saw Castro back in the cell and I 


gave him the instructions, and he said, 
‘Sure, sure, sure.’ Neither one of us 
really believed that anything was going 
to happen.” 

By 12:30, Cotton was back at the 
airport to catch his return flight to 
Tampico. 


Stadter and the blonde drove to the 
Pachuca airport, 50 miles north of Mex- 
ico City, where Hershner was wa 
with the helicopter, right on schedule. 
Mexican officials were hammering away 
at him. What was he really doing in 
Pachuca with a helicopter? It was the 
presence of an important Mexican air 
offical, that was compounding the prob- 
lem. The underlings would look good 
if they could kick up a fuss. 

Says Stadter: "I could actually see this 
VIP thinking that here was a chance to 
make some sort of big investigation. They 
didn't like the look of the helicopter. 
Oh, they're hot shit with the invest 
tions—they can investigate the balls off 


“And right now, folks, while there's 


time out on the field: x4 


a brass monkey. And that was all I 
needed, a day in some crummy Mexican 
office while the calls went out to every 
government agency they could think of. 
God knows what they'd come up with 
me got into it.” 

т was amazed at Stadter's sud- 
den pale intensity, his tremulous tone of 
voice. He had never suspected Stadter 
could be so vulnerable. What he didn't 
recognize at first was the creation of a 
whole new character: a dumb Texas 
American who was too stupid to offer a 
bribe. 

“I knew that if I tried to bribe him, 

he'd know something was really wrong," 
Stadter recalled later. “So I told him all 
I wanted to do was get my equipment 
through to the south and have a little 
fun in Mexico City along the way. 
Again, the wink and the nod in the 
direction of the blonde. 
‘The captain took one last look at the 
blonde, a long look, and bless her soul if 
she didn't give him а smile 
her lips just enough to stra 
up. ‘OK, he said and gave us the 
go-ahead.” 

After the captain and his aides left 
the airfield, Stadter walked over to the 
little man who remained and gave him 
20 pesos, asking him to watch the heli- 
copter while they went to town for a 
little food. 

In the café, Stadter sent the blonde to 
powder her nose and sat down with 
Hershner in a quiet booth. 

"Roger, there's a little matter we got 
to talk over.” 

“That єс?" 

“Well, yeah.” 

It's not in Honduras, is it?” 

“Well, no, it ain't." 

“1 figured.” 

"Roger, as a matter of fact, it ain't 
even a mine.” 

"Oh? 

"It's a prison." 

“A what?” 

"Now, listen carefully, Roger. We're 
down here on a rescue operation. I 
know it sounds pretty heavy, but I do it 
all the time. There is danger to it, and I 
want you to think it over before you say 
anything. You have the right to back 
ош and you'll be paid no matter what. 
But it's all set up, so we don't anticipate 
any trouble. It should be safe enough." 
m supposed to fly the chopper 
a prison?" 

“Yeah. There'll be two guys waiting 
for you, Our guy and his friend.” 

“Two 
‘Think it over. There'll be a nice 
bonus for you when it’s done.” 

They finished their coffee, paid the 
check and left the restaurant in silence. 
Tt wasn't until Stadter had registered the 
flight plan, and they were back in sight 


of the chopper, that Hershner answered 

“OK, Vic. III do it." 
ine, Roger.” 
ust one question.” 
jure,” 

“What's your guy in for? 

Stadter thought he mi 
it to Hershner straight. 

“Murder,” he said. 

Herhner shook his 
smiled. “Just like Vicuna 

What would Stadter 
Heshner had refused? “I don't rightly 
know,” he says now. Perhaps he would 
have talked Cotton into flying the heli- 
copter. Perhaps he would have flown it 
in himself, Perhaps he would have uained 
the blonde, . . . 

"They left the chopper at Pachuca and 
drove the 15 miles to the village of 
Actopan, where they were to meet Cot 
ton with the Cessna. Actopan is а small, 
friendly village of 8500 souls, mostly 
Indians of Otomi heritage, spread out 
over а hilly arca more than a mile high. 
Wednesda market day and the 
town was bustling with activity. After 
sending Cotton and Hershner up in the 
Cessna for a reconnaissance flight to 
Santa Marta, Stadter took the blonde to 
the market place and bought pants, shirt 
and jacket for Kaplan, sandwiches and 


tas well give 


head and half 
he mumbled. 
have 


done if 


fruit juices for Hershner and a minimal 
survival kit for the escapees: a blanket 
and a fifth of Bacardi. 

The landing strip at Actopan is noth- 
ing more than a pasture, an cmergency 
area for planes in trouble. Stadter had 
used it before; if it lacked ics, it 
had more than enough privacy—which 
was exactly why he there. He'd 
never эсеп anybody in the neighbor 
hood, except an occasional cow. Here he 
and the blonde returned, about five к.м. 
a few minutes later, Cotton and Hersh 
touched from their prison 
ispection flight. Like an athlete before 
a big game, Hershner was primed 10 go 

“Man, itll be a breeze!” he boasted. 

Sure, thought Stadter. 

“OK,” he said. “We go!” 

An absolute minimum of waiting: 
"That's the way Stadier wanted it to be. 
He was going to send that chopper into 
the prison courtyard at 6:35, exactly five 
minutes after Kaplan and Castro were 
to begin their walk. He wasnt going to 
give anyone much of a chance to start 
guessing about what those two guys w 
doing out there, walking around with 
newspapers in their hands. 

As he drove Hershner back to the heli- 
copter in the Caddie, Stadter sensed the 


cilitic 


was 


down 


younger man's tension; in 
relieve it, he filled the e 


an effort to 
€ 20 minutes 
pinning a long- 
winded yarn about the time he and Pussy 
were smuggling monkcys and one of the 
crates broke open. "There were four of 
the things leaping all over the damn 
airplane. 

They arrived at Pachuca. with 15 min- 
utes to spare and sat in the car going 
over the whole business as meticulously as 
any military operation. Stadter figured 
on а 42minute chopper run from Pa- 
chuca to the prison, then 56 minutes 
back to Actopan. Since he wanted the 
pickup to be made at 6:35, that meant 
Hershner was to take off at 5:53 

"Ready?" he asked. 

Tn all his 29 years, Roger Hershner had 
never been so keyed up. As the cool. 
damp twilight air gushed through the 
open cabin, he could see himself back in 
Glendora, recounting the entire saga to 
his buddies. He was over the dry bed of 
Lake Texcoco now, heading directly for 
Santa Marta, As Cotton had shown him, 
there was no way he could get lost from 
here. In less than 12 minutes, he would be 
at the prison. He checked his watch: 
He was on schedule. Cautiously 
viewed his assignment yet ag 


with nonstop repartee: 


219 


PLAYBOY 


would approach the prison from the cor 
ner farthest from the guard tower above 
the main gate, then cross to the first court 
yard of the four dormitories. Then he 
would drop right into its center. being 
careful to stay clear of the basketball 
court on the end. Once he touched 
down, he would begin counting—thou- 
sand and one, thousand and two—to 
таке sure he was neither too fast nor 
too slow, and he'd wait exactly ten sec 
onds for two men carrying. newspapers, 
If by some chance they did not appear, 
he'd take off at the count of ten 
without them. 

One of them, he reminded himself, 
was a murderer. 


awoke from his nap slightly 
an usual, about five, He washed 
up and changed his clothes, as he gener- 
ally did before dinner. “It was quiet 
along the cell block,” he recalled later. 
“No radios or TVs going. For a moment. 
that bothered me; then 1 remembered 
they were showing a movie in the prison 
theater across the quadrangle. Suddenly 
that seemed like a big plus for us; if 
everyone was in there watching a film, 
our departure would surely be simplei— 
assuming that the helicopter really would 
come tonight. which we both doubted. 
astro. and I boiled some water for 
tea and, wh ing, glanced at 
the newspapers Irma had brought, We 
had beth El Dia and. Excelsior, Excelsior 
isa good paper, but more on the conserva 
tive side and doesn't have as much foreign 
coverage, which is my favorite. Since it 
was beginning 10 rain, 1 decided to take 
Excelsior outside with me, I didit want 
to souk my ite paper, so Fd have 
something to read that evening if the 
helicopter didn’t show.” 

About 6:20, the two prisoners silently 
picked up their papers and strolled out 
onto the patio. Castro took a big stick 
with him, pretending it was a cane. He 
ted some kind of weapon to use in 
into the 


le it was brew 


w 
case someone tried to clamber 
helicopter with them. 

They walked out toward the court- 
yard. The rain was coming down in a 
fine drizzle. Another noticed 
them and stood in the doorway а mo- 
ment, watching. Then he walked out in- 
10 the yard and accosted Kapl: 
aren't you two coming in to dinner? 

“No” It was Castro who replied. 
come on, you're invited to a free 
meal,” said ihe prisoner, in a forced 
attempt at levity. 

“Not tonight, thank you. 

The other prisoner moved back in- 
side, but not without noticing that Kap- 
had turned up his collar against 
idement weather, and wondering 
should want to walk in the 


prisoner. 


220 courtyard in the rain. 


Kaplan and Castro, alone once more, 
stood under the backboard and pretend. 
ed to discuss shooting baskets. Then 
astro said, "I hear something: 

Nonsense,” said Kaplan, But Castro 
pointed with his stick, and there it was, 
coming down directly over the dorm 
tory, the rotors flapping loudly now. The 
two prisoners ran across the yard, wav. 
ing their newspapers; within a second or 
two alter the helicopter touched down, 
they were aboard. 

“The craziest thing,” recalled Kaplan 
afterward, “was that the pilot looked at 
us and smiled through his beard, 


moving as if he were talking to | 
He extended his hand and said, ‘How 
do you do? My name is Roger Hershner." 


“I guess we were а bit stunned, won- 
dering why he didn't just get off the 
ground in a hurry, but we shook hands 
and introduced ourselves. He nodded 
and turned back to the controls. The 
engine was roaring; you could feel the 
pentup power of it, just waiting to be 
unleashed. Then suddenly, with a tre- 
mendous thrust, up we went.” 

The prisoner they had spoken to min- 
utes carlier later estimated he'd been back 
in the building only a minute when he 
heard muffled sounds from outside, He 
hurried out of his cell, down the corridor 
and onto the patio. Then he saw i 
huge blue helicopter sitting on the pave- 
ment, its rotors spinning like a giant Гап. 
And there was Kaplan climbing through 
the door; Gastro was already inside. He 
vaced toward them, with no other thought 
than to join them. Somehow, it seemed, 
he had that right. Indeed, the helicopter 
appeared. to remain there for an added 
second or two, as though it were actually 
waiting for him. He lunged for the door, 
only to have a large stick thrust at him; 
before he could grab hold, the machine 
suddenly leaped into the air like a fright- 
ened horse, throwing him to the ground. 

When he looked up, he saw Kaplan 


Both witnesses to and participants in 
the jailbird airlift were later to com- 
ment on the chopper’s mysterious Jinger- 
ing on the ground after both passengers 
were aboard. The explanation was sim- 
ple: Hershner, following his instructions 
to the letter. kept right on counting up 
to "thousand and ten” Then he took olf. 

As the helicopter soared over the prison 
rds stood staring in a 
waidnower. Neither made а move. As 
the newspapers put it later, they didn't 
know whether to shoot or salute. 


wall, (wo g 


Hershner was proud of the chopper. 
Tt had handled the drop and the climb 
perfectly. Following Stadter’s instruc- 


he moved away from the prison 
S as low as he could—once so 
close that he felt the landing gear brush 
inst the upper limbs of some trees 
The plan was to keep out of radar range 
for as long as possible. It was getting 
dark, which would help conceal him. It 
would also makc the route back to Acto- 
pan a Jot harder to follow. 


There was à gate at the landing field 
at Actopan, the only entrance to the 
huge arca that. because it also served as 
a pasture, was surrounded by a rickety 
but serviceable fence. Stadier had 
hacked the Cadillac into that gate to 
block any intruders. 
at the beginning of what might laugh- 
ingly be called a runway, waited the 
Cessna—its original registration num- 
bers once again on display. 

Stadter, Cotton and the blonde waited 
in the Cadillac, trapped by the drizzle 
that had begun to fall. They could do 
nothing now, only sweat out what 
seemed to be much more than an hour 

Suddenly. there was the honk of an 
le horn. Stadter wheeled ij 
e a lover caught flagrante delicto. 
A pickup truck was flashing its hcad- 
lights outside the gate, obviously want- 
ing to enter the field. Stadter quickly. 
glanced at his watch: 7:16. The chopper 


few 


ads away, 


ашотоћ 


was due in 15 minutes. 
‘There were two men in the pickup, 
е door of which was the seal of a 


an federal official having ж 
g to do with aeronautics. Wh 
he want here? Now? 

The comandante, as he called him- 
self, explained ro Stadter that he was 
checking the field to make sure there 
were no cows on the runway. Smiling 
casually, Stadter pulled the Caddie away 
from the gate. The pickup drove slowly 
by, its occupants taking a long look at 
the Caddie, the blonde and the 210. 
Along the fence line the truck crept. 
doing maybe five miles an how; then 


did 


it drew up at the far end of the runway, 
t 


cd toward them with 
ze and waited. 


It was clear they weren't lool 


headlights 


7 


ing for 


cows. 

"I don't like it,” said Stadter. “And 
they don't like the Caddie and the 210 
too much. Wait until they see the chop- 
per^ Something ominous was stirring, 
Мег conjured up images to suit: 
a dozen cars moving onto the field, cach 
sporting some damn Mexican insign 
and, when the chopper landed, all those 
emblazoned car doors opening and a 
hundred. men with carbines surrounding 
it. He'd had that nightmare more tban a 
few times. 

Stadier stared at the sky, pecring 


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PLAYBOY 


222 


through the night mist for a light, 
straining his cars for that special sound. 
It was 7:35 and there was nothing. Hersh- 
ner was late, And what were those officials 
doing there? Maybe there'd been a police 
report from Santa Marta about the escape 
in а chopper and maybe all the airfields 
were alerted. 

“Then I thought, no, it was t00 soon 
This guy was just a Mexican 
1 who'd stumbled onto something. 
He would sit and wait, the way Mexican 
cops always do. Like a bull. trying to 
decide whether to attack or retreat. lt 
depends on how he sizes up th i 
The thing to do is wait him out.” 

Then Stadter heard it 
Hershner was coming, all , about 
four minutes late. But he was heading 
for the wrong end of the field, flying 
straight toward the comandante’s he 
lights. If he landed there, he'd be 1 
ing Kaplan right back to the Mexican 
government. 

Stadier raced to the Cessna and 
flashed its landing lights, on and olf. on 
and off, then switched on the rotating 
blinker on top. Hershner spotted it and 
reversed direction, Suddenly, Stadter had 
an unreasoning fear that Hershner was 
coming back He stared, trying to 
эсе into the cabin, but it was too dark. 

Then,” Stadter recalls, “like an answer 
toa prayer, there was a brilliant streak of 
lightning and the chopper lit up as if 
spotlight had hit it—and there they 
‚ two gers, siting behind 
Roger like a couple of jerks on a joy 
ride." 

The helicopter alighted, a few yards 
from the Cessna. Kaplan jumped out 
and climbed st to the airplane; 
Castro tried to do the same, but Cotton 
grabbed. him, stuffed him into the Cadil- 
lac and sped off. The prisoners would be 
harder to track il they went their sepa- 
rate ways from now on; Castro was to 
hide in Mexico for a fortnight before 
g flown out by another Stadier pi.ot 
friend, first to Guatemala and then to 
Venezuela. 
diei 


wer 


pass 


bc 


gunned the Cessna 
d the comandante's lu 
lights to line up the tikeoff. 
moment, I had one of thos: god-awful 
Hashes that the son of a bitch was going 
10 put that pickup in gear and come 
charging at me. I'd had that happen a 
few times before. Bur the comandante 
just sat there, and up we went, right 
over his truck. 

"We hadn't gone 200 fect before we 
hit a goddamn storm that rocked us 
halfway back to mother earth, Lightning 
io the right of us, lightning to the left 
of us. But we were heading north, by 
God. 

"I handed Joel the bottle of Bacardi 


moving 
1. 
or a 


and he took а good swig. Then he turned 
to me and said it all in five word: 
lent. The timing was excellent." 
about 30 miles west of 

they broke out of the 
storm. From there it was an casy matter 
to head toward Brownsville and the 
U. S. border. dier immediately estab- 
lished radio contact to let them know he 
was coming, wanting to secure the legal- 
ity of their entrance by having it record- 
ed from miles away. He didn't want to 
give anybody the chance to say he'd 
aked acios the border, so he kept 
ng back and forth with Brownsville, 
ng'ess conversation at the 
tisk of irritating the controllers 

It would be a legal arrival for Stadter. 
But what about his passenger? Nothing 
that had preceded. Kaplan's arrival at 
Brownsville mattered now. All the little 
bariles of his escape would be worthless 
if the immigration officer decided ro 
send him back across the border. 

lr could happen. Tt was almost nine 
o'clock in the evening, barely two and a 
half hours since they'd plucked the pris 
oners from the Santa Marta courtyard. 
Had the prison officials announced. the 
escape? Had the news reached this office? 


They were 
Tampico whe 


late 50s, tired and bored and harassed 
after 25 years of pushing troubled people 
around, "He looked like he hadn't been 
laid in the last ten." Stadter sai 
Stadter could easily have arranged 
official border crossing, but the terms of 
Kaplan's mulumillion-dollarestate trust 
dictated that his inheritance would be 
forthcoming only when and if he were 
in the United States in good standing— 
legally admitted and legally in residence. 
This, then, was a million-dollar gamble. 

"Well, well, if it isn’t the great Mr. 
Stadier." 

There it was for openers: the snide 
challenge. 

“And to what do we owe the pleasure 

of your the inspector i 
quired. 
We're a couple of tired fellas, 1 
Stadter offered. “We'd like to get 
cleared зэ we can get on our way. 
Who's he?" the official asked, 
looking at Kaplan. 


comp: 


апу. 


n offered the man his frayed 
crumpled Navy discharge. The 
official glanced at the paper, then handed 
it back. When he looked up at Stad- 
ter. it was the sme old angry 
totally without joy. Stadter could 
hugged him. 

“What's he doing with you, Stadter?” 
the inspector asked. 


and 


"He's a cotton grower. We met in 
Mexico City — 
But the inspector broke in, obviously 
different to Kaplan's presence. "Sup. 
pose we take a look at your plane. 
"Be my guest,” said Stadter. 

They looked. They suipped it down. 
found nothing, then went back and 
stripped it down again. It went on inter- 
minably. and every time the phone rang 
—and it did, repeatedly—Stadter could 
feel the sweat form on his neck. This 
time it would be some official calling to 
vise that an escaped prisoner named 
Joel Р: ап, wanted by the Mexi- 
сап gov probably heading 
for the border, 

But the Customs official kept looking 
for illegal merchandise. He even had 
Stadter and Kaplan stripped for bodily 
inspection. Finally frustrated in his 
search efforts, the Brownsville border 

turned to interrogation. 
- . date of birth... 
. . . schooling . . . mar 
children . . . occupation . . 
izations . . . previous arrests 
convictions” 

"You can't ask that,” snapped Kaplan, 
who up to now had been slumped on a 
bench. looking more mouse than man. 

What do you mean? Why по?” The 
official we unned at the challenge. 

“The law docs not permit that ques 
tion,” Kaplan retorted. “If a man has 
served time for a crime, he has paid for 
it. He is not required to put it on 
record.” 

Whatever the validity of Kaplan's 
claim, the bureaucrat was intimidated. 
"That was all Stadter needed. 
right, damn it," he snapped, 
“you've had your little fun. We've been 
here ап hour and a half. Youve found 
nothing outside or inside my asshole, so 
you got no reason to hold us. Now, clear 
these papers and let us get out of here.” 

The official knew it was all over. He 
could come up with nothing to justily 
holding the two any longer. He stamped 


orga 
and 


the papers. 
Stadter and Kaplan walked back to the 
Cesna without another word. Stadter 


needed gas, but he didn't want to hang 
around Brownsville another minute. 

As soon as the Cessna was airborne, 
heading west across Texas, Stadter let 
out a whoop—a cry of relief, joy and 
triumph. They had done it, by Christ 

"You're frec, you crazy bastard, you 
free" 

And he began to laugh, tremendous 
laughter that made his eyes tear and his 
chest heave, laughter that left him splut- 
tering like the village idiot. 

Kaplan reached down for the Bacardi 
and unscrewed the cap. 

“Here,” he said, "I think you need a 


drink." 
ü 


с 


“Please, Mr. Cartwright, get back up here 
before you lose your nerve.” 


223 


PLAYBOY 


224 


PLAYBOY FORUM 


today.” but that there is Nixon-inspived 
hope: 


The President of the United States 
wants to “roll back obscenity.” The 
oment for the rollback has ar- 
rived. It is now 1972. We have a new 
Supreme Court. 1972 is a year of 
victory. 


The pastor receiving the leuer is 
urged (0 circulate ап anti-pornography 
d forward the names ю Mo- 
тайну in Media (a neat way to compile 
а mailing list) 10 preach à sermon on 
the media ("We will be glad to send a 
sample sermon if you wish”), to send a 
check to Morality in Media, naturally, 
nd to print in the parish bulletin €: 
cerpts from a pamphiet enclosed in the 
mailing. The pamphlet is an anguished 
litle thing called “Smut and the Na- 
tion’s Youth,” which starts off with Fa- 
ther Hill describing a mother who told 
him she lost her son “through an over- 
dose of heroin 


petitio: 


“I started finding dirty magazines 
in his room. "Fhat's when he started 
to change. Things started to go 
wrong for him at school. Instead of 
being open, he became nca 
Know what I mean, Father? I think 
that what started Jimmy down the 
path to drugs was this pornography 
youre fighting, 


Hill assures us that he has heard the 
same story many times over, Later, in 
the face of all the соптау evidence 
compiled by the commission of which 
Hill was a member, the brochure states: 
"According to behavioral scientists and 
law-enforcement offic is ii 


(continued from page 66) 


our nation’s youth to violence, perversion, 
promiscuity, drug exper ion, hi 
tred, tastelessness;" 

I don't know who Father Hill's au- 
thorities for this preposterous statement 
are, and I don't know what started Jim- 
my down the road to heroin (maybe a 
nagging motherz), bur I do know one 
thing: Anyone who becomes addicted to 
ather Hill's brand of nonthink is liable 
to come down with a promiscuous сазе 
of galloping stupidity. Know what 1 
mean, Father? 


Charles Conwa 
Baltimore, Maryland 


NEW MASTURBATION MYTHOLOGY 

It may interest you to learn that the 
notion that masturbation is harmful has 
not yet died out. The Missing Dimen- 
ston т Sex, by Herbert W. Armstrong: 
and others, published by the graduate 
school of theology of Ambassador Col- 
lege, has a section called “Truth About 
Masturbation,” which states: “Nearly all 
books on sex—produced by the medical 
doctors, psychiatrists, and others from 
the purely physical approach—assert 
that mastu ion is not harmful. тику. 
ARE wroxc!" "The book goes on boldly 
fo reject some of the 19th Century 
myths: 


On the one hand, many hoys have 
bee i 


told. falsely. that ma: 
ses insanity, loss of vi 
ty. pimples, etc., etc, This is not true. 
Scaring boys with lies is not the thing 
10 do! 


Alter this disarming beginning, the 
s proceed, with even greater bold- 


“The United Mine Workers will hear of this!” 


ness to offer some new myths of their 
own: 


On the other hand, masturbation. 
is a form of PERVERSION. It is а sts! 
It does h 
—physically, over a period of 12 to 

4 hours by dulling the mind, even 
causing often a partial blurring of 
sight, and acting as a partial ancs- 
thetic to the memory. Ofte 
will experience al 


the boy—or the man 


It is harmful psychologically! The 
mind is on sel/—on sex—nol on a 
lovely wife. Invariably it produces a 
guilty conscience and destroys normal 
confidence. . . . 

Masturbation is either plain LUST, 
or else a desire for relief. But God 
provided for relief, through the 
means of nocturnal emissions during 
sleep. If such natural relief is needed, 
the boy or man may induce it by 
sleeping on his back. 

Most boys and. girls e 
habit of masturba 
young th 


t into the 
t an age so 
y simply cannot remember 
its beginning alter growing up. It 
is a nasty habit, often almost impos- 
sible ıo break. There is no greater 
plague! ... 

‘Treat it, in infancy, in (he same 
category as thumb-sucking, or put- 
ting his finger in his nose. Teach the 
child that he should not play with 
parts of the body. Do not frighten 
him. Do not lie to him. Just tell 
him his thumb, or his penis, or his 
nose, was given him for a different 
purpose—and he must mot mi 
use it, Aud back up your teaching 
with discipline—and punishment if 
necessary! 


Whether masturbation is a perversion 
and a is, I suppose, a matter of 
personal opinion. But the reference to 
physical harm is really weird; if an or- 
«d by mastunbation cused 
ledncss it would seem to 
n orgasm obtained any other 
effect. 


sin 


abse! 
me that 
way would have the si 
Bill M 

Rapid City, South Dakota 

We had previously noted the inaccu- 
тасу of material on marijuana published 
by Ambassador College Press (“The 
Playboy Forum,” April), but their pam- 
phlet оп pot looks downright ordinary 
next to this flight of [anc 


he Playboy Forum" offers the 
opportunity Jor an extended dialog be- 
fvcen readers and editors of this pub- 
licalion on subjects and issues related to 
“The Playboy Philosophy.” Address all 
correspondence to The Playboy Forum, 
Playboy Building, 919 North Michi 
gan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. 


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225 


PLAYBOY 


226 


ROVER BOYS АТ COLLEGE (continued from page 128) 


stormed San Juan Hill with Colonel 
Roosevelt and laid the groundwork for 
the future discovery of penicillin. АП 
in all, it was а not uneventful summer, 
but now it was back to studies, foot- 
ball, fun and a flying brick. 

The brick was now but two feet from 
the head of the eldest Rover, when the 
mble-witted Dick, reacting to a sixth 
se, skipped out of its way in the nick 
of time and the missile landed harmless- 
ly against a wee. With a bound Dick 
disappeared in the brush and returned 
shortly to his. brothers dragging а f 
by the scruff of his neck. 

“Why, it is Dan Baxter, our ardi- 
y." ejaculated Sam. 

Perhaps you would care to explain 
the meaning of this nefarious deed,” said 
Tom hotly to the sc 

“I hate you Rovers,” sputtered the 
longnosed. sharp-aced ruffian. "And 
every time 1 sce уоп, I have the urge to 
throw something at you." 

To the wretch's credit, what he 
was true. Ar nume 
he had hurled at them such ıl 
d as a hammer, a sack of cement, an 
anchor chain and, on one bizarre occ 
sion, a pygmy leper, as some of my 
readers may recall in The Rover Boys 
on Devil's Island, or “То the Recue 
with Their Chum, 


se 


ous times in the past, 


What are you doing here on the 
campus of Brill College, you insufferable 
bounder?" asked Sam. "I thought you 
tended State University.” 
ess, sturdy Sam,” 
nded boy. 

" said Dick coolly, “you 


None of your bus 


said the evil 
“Dan Baxter,” 


have gone back on your word. When are 
you going to learn that honesty is the 
best policy? You are not dumb, by any 
means. I do f. you pursued 
an honorable course in life, you could 
make your own salt 

“I would ju lief follow my own 
bent.” said the bully cockily. 
If you persist" warned Tom, "you 
will wind up with your cro 
lockup." 


cronies in the lockup, indeed! 
The lads were taken aback by the 
remark, 


You mean,” said Dick, “that those 
rotters are no longer in the lockup?” 

"That's for me to know and for you 
to find out, Dick Rover,” said Dan. Bax- 
ter smugly, 

The boys 

псе. 

“Now, then, Rov 
drel, “what do you 
me? 

‘That. Dan said the fun- 
loving Tom, “is a mystery puzzle, and 
there is a reward of one herring bone for 
the correct solution.” 

At this outrageous humor, Sam 
laughed outright, but the eldest Rover 
stayed his impish brother, 

І fear you sting your 
time on this bounder,” said Dick. “F 
lows of his ilk little appreciate wit or 


exchanged meaningful 


said the scoun- 
ad to do with 


Whereupon the eldest Rover fell upon 
the bully and proceeded 10 thrash him 
n an inch of his life, sending him 
into the night with yet an 
ога 


acter reformation. 


other promi 


“But when we heard you were having an 
affair with a boxer, we thought... .” 


псу we shan't be seeing much of 
that mucker anymore,” said Sam. 

Tom nodded. But if the brothers had 
peered closely, they would have seen a 
look of anxiety pass briefly over dl 
eldest brother's face. 

Later that evening, Dick paid a call 
on Miss Grecbe's House for Gentlewom- 
en. one of several offcampus homes of 
girls’ school. When he 
asked to sce Miss Dora Stanhope, he 
received a cold glance from the propric- 
tess. perhaps owing 10 the Jareness of 
the hour, it being already past seven 
o'clock. But nonetheless. that worthy duly 
notified the » caller 

As he siw the 
down the stait 
beat faster. "Fri 
ош, starting for the staircase, 

Dora, still unable to sce who had 
spoken to her and not hearing Dick's 
voice clearly, called out, "Who is that 
me by name? 
is I, Dick Rover,” 
ely. 
kly, the girl scampered down the 
d ran with quickened steps to 
ide of the eldest Rover. 


gan to 
he called 


said Dick 


"Oh, Dick, Dick Rover," she id 
fondly. 
"Dora, he cried. "You dear, dear 


girl 

They paused in front of 
for a breathless moment. And then. 
throw: ion to the wind, they flung 
themselves down in neighboring chairs 
d in a frenzy of youthful ardor gave 
lı other а look that spoke volumes. 
Tow was your summer?" asked. Dora. 
when she could trust herself to speak 
once more. 

“Just peaches and с 
slaugily. “Lots of hunt 
deal of fishing.” 

He modestly omitted details of his 
and his brothers’ exploits with Colonel 
Roosevelt, how they had all but. single- 
handedly defeated the Spanish fleet in 
Santiago harbor and how they had 
braved: pestilence and rebel bullets. to 
help President McKinley secure а just 
peace and acquire Puerto Rico, Guam 
and the Philippines, while guaranteeing 


ach other 


said the lad 
ng and a good 


Cuban. independence, knowing full well 
she would only have wor 

"And how 
asked. 


ied. 
summer?" 


was уд he 


2...” At which point she 


Except for what? 

concern. 
Ег... аһ... nothing.” 
g lady, averting | 
riend Dora id [a 
boldly taking it upon himself to 1 
hand on the corner of her 
Dan Baxter and his pack of rulfians 
kidnap you again?” 

She nodded painfully. Slowly the 
blood began to rise to the lad's temples. 


he inquired with 


gre: 


id the 


withering gaze. 
iliarly, 


“Why, those . . . those fiendish brutes!” 
he said. “This is the sixth holiday 
row in which they have kidnaped yo 
“The seventh,” she reminded him, 
“OL cours," he said. "I had almost 
forgouen the Shrove Tuesday abduc- 
tion. Oh, those muckers!” 

It was only for two weeks this time,” 
she said aivily, endeavoring to temper 
his ire. 

“Those insufferable knaves!" he cried. 

"Time passed so swiftly, I hardly 
knew I was away,” she said lightly. 

“The bounderst” 

“It was during the rainy season,” she 
assured him. 

"Oh. your poor mother,” said Dick. 
Il she сап do to make ends 
alone continually contribute 


na 


“Чо not trouble yourself on our account, 
We can make do with what we have.” 
She looked so endearing and helpless 
before him that he could not refrain 
from changing the tenor of his thoughts. 
“Friend Dora,” he said, looking her full 


in the face, "how long have we two 
kn 


wn each other?” 
‘Oh. about five years or so, І fancy,” 
the young lady. 
Twin patches of flame suddenly ap- 


peared on the lad's flawlessly chisel 
checks, as he struggled with his next 
words. “Dora, there is something I 
would like to say to you.” 

“What is it, Dick?” she asked, in great 
anticipation, her heart suddenly ham- 
mering furiously at her chest. 

“Dora, I would just like you to know 
that 1... L ..." He was finding it 


very difficult to proceed. 
ou would me to know what, 
Dick?” she 


but I. 
it out: 


L..." Suddenly, he bluried 
"Dora, I respect you. There—I 


Oh, Dick," she said excitedly, "do 
you? Do you really?” 

“Yes, Dora," was his rejoinder. “I 
respect you with all the honor I can 
arnestly muster up.” 
With these words, the 
furiously, but 


pleased. 


was ol» 
she said, 


“With all the honor I can muster up, 
I respect you, too.” 

“Earnestly?” he inquired. struggling 
to catch his breath. 

“Most earnest! she assured him. 

The lad was overcome with јоу. He 


could scarcely keep his heart from burst- 
ing. Then suddenly, a frown creased his 
forehead. “Dora,” he said, “there is 
something else I fear I must say to you. 
I only pray that you will not think ill of 
me 

“What is it, dear Dick Rover?” 
asked. 

“L.a. L.” Now the words came 
with even more difliculty than before. 
But he was lief to release them. “Dora, 


she 


you must know that 1... I respected 


other girls befor 


He shamelacedly averted his eyes from 
her face. 
For an instant she crestfallen, but 


then she regained her composure. “Boys 
are diferen,” she said fatalistically. ^I 
did not expect to be the first.” 

“But you shill always be the last,” he 
asured her. And with that, suddenly 
unable to contain himself any longer, he 
seized her hand and gave it a squeeze 
she would long remember. 

From the ether room, the propr 
of the house, who had been maliciously 
eavesdropping on the conversation, mut- 
tered to herself, "Humph, the way these 
younguns сапу on nowadays it’s casy 
for a body to sec why this country 
going to the dogs." 

The next months passed swiftly for 
young heroes. As always, they 


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227 


PLAYBOY 


doggedly pursued their studies and 
maintained their high scholastic posi- 
tions at the heads of their respective 
classes. But there was also time for jolli- 
ty and more lighthearted college pur- 
suits There was the junior class hay 
ride, the college sing, the Student Union 
taffy pull and, of course, the legendary 
campus milk-and-cookie bust. Not to 
mention the football gridiron. With the 
three Rovers leading the way as always, 
the Brill eleven approached its final game 
undefeated and nigh unstoppable. 

And so it was on the afternoon of the 
big contest with State, when we rejoin 
Our young stalwarts. It was moments 
before the kickoff and they were warm- 
up on the side line. Needless to sa 
the stands were packed and a fever pitch 
of excitement spread through the gath- 
ered assemblage. 

“What a grand day it is for a game, 
said Dick cheerily, tossing a ball to Sam. 

“1 do believe that with a bit of good 
fortunc, we shall beat State today all 
hollow," expounded Sam. 

“I feel absolutely first-rate 
"Tom. “It is most gi 
а care in the world. 

Suddenly, a scrap of paper wrapped 
around a rock fell to the са at Dick's 
feet. The eldest Rover picked it up, 
perused the missive quickly, and then, 
ngrily crumpling it into a ball, jammed 
it into his pocket. 

“What is it, Dick?” asked sturdy Sam, 
sensing intuitively that something was 
amiss. 

I have just received bad news” 
said Dick. “Dora Stanhope has been 
kidnaped.” 

“Kidnaped?” said the once-funJoving 
Rover, who was now grim of vixape. 
“But it is impossible. It cannot be. To- 
day is not a holiday." 

"That is truc," agreed Sam. "She has 
never been kidnaped on a nonholiday 
before." 

“We are dealing with desperate men,” 
ejaculated Dick. “But that is not all of 
the news. Nellie and Grace. have also 
been abducted. 

The two younger Rovers were clearly 
taken aback by this additional informa- 
tion. “But who could haye perpetrated 
this dastardly deed?” asked Tom. 

“Surely not Dan Baxter,” offered Sam. 
“For there he stands, practicing with his 
State University teammates.” 

im indicated the bully on the other 
side of the field. 

"Perhaps Dan Baxter did not per- 
sonally commit the foul deed," Dick 
agreed. "But I'll wager he masterminded 
the operation.” 

“For what purpose?” inquired Tom. 

“He most assuredly has gambled 
heavily on his team, as he is wont to 
do." replied the eldest brother. “And he 
wished to render us distraught and thus 


stated 
tifying not to have 


228 throw us off our game.” 


“The rotter!” cried Sam hotly, start- 
ng for the other side of the field. “He 
shall pay and pay dearly for d 

Buc Dick stopped his headstrong 
brother. "No time for that now, Sam," 
he said. "We've got work to do and we 
must move fast.” 
here do you fancy they are holding 
the girls?” asked Tom. 

“It seems perfectly obvious to me," 
replied Dick. 

“Of course,” said Tom. "On the top 
of Kidnap Mountain.” 

Dick nodded grimly. His heart went 
out to poor Dora, on this, her cighth 
trip to the infamous headquarters of the 
vile abductors. 

“But it is a precipitous climb through 
impenctrable brush,” sturdy Sam re- 
minded them. “It would take se 
hours for us to get there. We shan't 
have enough time to apprehend 
thrash the rascals. rescue the girls 
still be back to help win the game for 
Brill.” 

° "You forget,” said Dic 
quick way to get up ther 

“By jinks,” said Tom slangily, “I had 
forgotten. The aeroplan 

"Bully!" aied Sam. 

Quickly, the boys тап to their coach, 
kindly Pop Armbruster, and. explained 
the situation to him. Reluctantly, but 
with great sympathy, the craggy-faced, 
white-maned gridiron mentor wished 
them Godspeed, as he had so many 
times in the past when they were off to 
rescue kidnap victims before important 
ames. 

As the boys rushed off the ficld, Sam 
stopped and, addressing Dan Baxter, he 
shouted ominously, “By the grear clam 
chowder of Pocahontas, you shall pay 
for this dastardly act, Dan Baxter 

Looking the youngest Rover full i 
the face, the bully said innocently, “I 
don’t know what you are talking about, 
sturdy Sam Rover. 

But, of course, he most assuredly did. 

The boys hopped aboard the aero- 
plane and left the ground; some time 
later, they were circling over the famil- 
jar cabin high atop ap Mountai 

"Where shall we land hei?” shouted 
Sam above the din of the roaring engine. 

Dick pointed to a small clearing 
nearby. And no sooner said than done, 
the craft touched down on the field. In 
a twinkling, the Rovers scampered out 
of the vessel and sprinted toward the 
cabin. Quickly bursting the door open, 
they stormed inside. Seated in a cor- 
ner, trussed together with their mouths 
gagged, were the three girls. 

“Thank goodne! said Sam. “Not a 
moment too soo! 

"I fear you are wrong, Sam Rover," 
a voice in a corner. “You are sever- 
al moments too late." 

With that, seven figures suddenly ap- 
peared brandishing firearms and beset 


“There is a 


the youths from all sides. It was Dan 
Baxter's entire pack of ruffans: Josiah 
Crabtree, Tad Sober, Lew Flapp, Jerry 
Koswell, Bart Larkspur, Dudd Flockley 
nd, of course, the incorrigible Mumps 
Fenwick. 

"Соте on, boys,” said Sam steadfastly 
to his brothers. “Let us rush them.” 

But the cldes Rover once again 
stayed the headstrong Sam. “No, Sam,” 
he said. “1 fear we do not stand a 
chance. Had they not been armed, we 
most assuredly would have thrashed 
them handily; but in view of the circum- 
stances, it behooves us to refrain from 
rash action.’ 

“Very well put, Dick Rover,” sneered 
the evil Mumps Fenwick. “And now, 
boys, tie ‘em up, and we shall all wait 
for State to vanquish Brill, at which 
time we shall fill our coffers with much 
casy-carned pelf.” 

With this the foul rascal laughed 
fiendishly. 

All seemed lost now and Dick and 
Sam were most assuredly crestfallen, But 
the cheery Tom suddenly piped up, 
“Mumps Fenwick, had you and your 
cronies not been armed, we would have 
made vile-tasting cider out of you." 

The bully scowled. “1 do not follow 
the tenor of your thought. Tom Rov 
How would you have made viletasting 
cider out of us?” 

“What other cider could you make,” 
asked the fun-loving Rover, "out of sev- 
en bad apples?” 

With that, despite their dire predica- 
ment, Dick and Sam laughed loud and 
long. But Sam finally caught himself and 
said to his brother, “Tom, granted that 
was a ribtickling riposte, but I hardly 
fancy that this is the time for levity.” 

But of a sudden, Tom gave his 
brothers a meaningful glance, the signif- 
icance of which did not escape Dick, 
who felt his sinking heart begin to stir. 
It is a chance in a thousand, thought 
Dick, but Tom might just pull it off. 

"Tie up,” repeated Mumps 
Fenwick. 

“Excuse me, Mumps Fenwick,” said 
the fun-loving Tom, “did you say my tie 
was up? As anyone can see, I am not 
wearing a tie.” 

With that, he pointed to his football 
uniform. At this devastating jape, sever- 
al of the bullies giggled in spite of 
themselves. 

Come on, Tom, thought Dick silently. 
It's up to you now. 

"Shut up!" snarled Mumps Fenwick. 

“Did you say shirt up?" asked Tom. 
“But I am not wearing a shirt, only a 
jersey.” 

At that withering sally, all the scoun- 
drels save Mumps Fenwick began to 


vem 


laugh. 
Shut up at oncel" roared Mumps 
Fenwick. 
“Now, sce hero" said Tom. “Who 


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229 


PLAYBOY 


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are you calling а dunce?” 

With that unerring witticism, all sev- 
en bullies, including Mumps Fenwick, 
were reduced to paroxysms of laughter, 
and back and forth they rolled helpless 
ly on the floor. Dick was overjoyed 
Tom's ploy had worked. 

The knaves being in this condition, 
it took but a matter of moments for 
the determined Rovers to disarm them, 
thrash them soundly, tie them up and 
release the girls. There wasn't a moment 


to lose, but Dick felt he owed his 
brother a special debt of gratitude. 
"Hun for fundoving Тош!” 


himself, Sam and 


Turrah, 


shouted Did 
the girls 
hurrah, hurr 

This done, Dick quickly grabbed a 
sheet from a bed and gathered up the 
rope that had been used to bind the 
girls. “Now,” he said, “let us make for 
the acroplane.” 

What are you doing with those, 
Dick?” asked Sam, meaning the sheet 
and rope 

“L cannot discuss it now," 
"but we may need them." 

In a twinkling, the six young people 
scampered for the aeroplane. 

Meanwhile, back at the stadium, all 
seemed lost. State University w 
Brill by two points and t 
about run out. 

“I fear we are doomed, coach,” said a 
Brill substitute to kindly Pop Armbrus- 
ter, who paced in front of the bench. 

"Perhaps you are right” said 
coach, “but there is always a chance." 
said the not very plucky 
substitute. "What chance have we? There 
are only a few seconds left, time for but 
one more play. And, worst of all, State 
has the ball. АП they need to do is run 
one more play and it is curtains for us." 

In truth, the coach had all but 
up hope and, looking heavenward, he 
began to silently pray. Suddenly, he saw 
speck in the sky and it grew larger and 
larger, and then was heard the roar of а 
moto 

“Look!” shouted the coach. 
Rover Boys returning.” 

Word passed through the stands like 
wildfire and all gazed upward to watch 
the craft circle over the field. 

Quickly, Pop Armbruster dashed out 
to the referee. "I am taking out three 
ers and putting the Rovers in the 
" ре said breathlessly. 

"But you cannot do that.” said the 
referee. “They are not on the field as yet 
and play is about to resume. 

“They are in uniform and they are on 
my squad," said the coach. “Is there any 


said Dick, 


s leading 


e had just 


the 


iven 


“It is the 


in a 


ched his head. “Very 
but 1 hardly see how 
ance. 


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hey shail find a way,” murmured 
kindly Pop Armbruster to himself. 
"Somehow I fancy they shall find a 
way 

As the two squads lined up for the 
final play of the game, the Brill eleven 
was three men short for the reason I 
have already cited. The center for State 
pped the ball back to Dan Baxter. 
The bully looked upward at the now 
very low-lying craft and shouted, "You 

rc too late, Rovers. Too latc." 

Vot yet, Dan Baxter!" called Dick 
from the aeroplane. 

Suddenly, the referee's gun went off. 
Hatha-ha. Dick Rover!" laughed the 
rascal. “You heard the gun, The game 
is over.” 

“But the play has not been completed 
yet!” shouted Dick. And then, address- 
ing his teammates, he shouted, “Fellow 
members of the Brill eleven, 
tackle the ball carrier.” 

To a man, the Brill squad responded 
to Dick's exhortation 

“See here, Dick Rover!" 
in. "What are you up to? 

“Dan Baxter,” taunted Dick. "You are 
a blackhearted villain, a brute, a scamp, 
а сай, a scoundrel, а rascal, a bully and a 
thoroughly bad egg! 

"Shut up, Dick Rover" roared the 
‘Shut up! 
re also a bounder, a rogue and 


do not 


called the 


il 


" eried Dan Baxter, his 
bile rising precipitously. 

Not added Dick, "a 
scalawag, а wretch, а mucke 
and a perfect foursquare blower!" 

‘The villain's face turned the color of 
a beet, and then, Josing control of him- 
self entirely, as he was always wont to do 
in the presence of the Rovers, he once 
n threw the nearest thing on hand 
n. In this instance, as Dick had, of 
course, planned, it was the football! 
high arc the ball floated through 
the air. Quickly, Dick stood up on a 
wing of the low-lying craft and made an 
effort to catch the ball; but, as luck would 
have it, it eluded his eager grasp. 

A groan went up from the Brill ad- 
herents in the stand. 

“The ball is now on a 
arc," said a disappointed student, “ 
it is beyond the reach of those on the 
aeroplane.” 

“AML is 
student. 

Wait, look, look!" showed another. 
Dick has leaped into the air in an 
effort to catch the ball." 

“He shall be killed!" shouted another. 

“Look, he has caught the ball!” 

“He will still be killed!" 

“Look, he is floating through the a 

“How is that possible? What is keep- 
ing him afloat?” 


а rouer 


downward 


and. 


I fca said another 


lost, 


“And wipe that goddamn warm-friendly-smile-that- 
is-unmistakably-Hilton off your face!” 


‘Search me. It looks like a bed sheet 
and some rope.” 

Closer, closer to the ground floated the 
determined Dick, the ball clutched tight 
ly under his arm. By now, his descent 
had carried him close to the State goal 
m awaited 


ied lost, when suddenly, as luck 
would have it, a gust of wind caught the 
ty youth in its раш a 
inches beyond the grasp of the State play- 
ers and over the goal line in a heap. 

The game was over. Brill had once 
again emerged triumphant! 

Tha ing, there was celebra 
ion on campus, the likes of 
seen before nor 
would likely be seen again. The Brill 
students cheered the Rover Boys until 
their throats were sore, and there were 
enough candied apples and brownies to 
as fun-loving Tom humor- 
“choke a horse.” As for 


id carried. him 


ously put i 


other matters, Dan Baxter and his evil 
toadies were given long sentences, t 
time in the largest lockup in the entire 
state. And although they subsequently 
смире to harass the lads in the next 
book in this series, The Rover Boys at 
the Big Ditch, or “Fun in Panama 
Dr. Walter Reed and Other Chums 
shall eave them now, wishing them all 
the best of possible luck. 

But not before Dean Hobart Brill was 
heard to say, “That was a remarkable 
display of heroies today, Dick Rover. 1 
was particularly impressed by the way 
ed down from your flying craft. 


5 me, what was that strange new 
contaption you devised to transport 


you through spac 
“I haven't decided yet what to call it," 
said the eldest Rover modestly. 
“I have it,” said sturdy 
parachute?" 


“How 


bout calling it 
“Bully!” said Tom. 
And somehow the name stuck, 


231 


PLAYBOY 


232 


л. 
КЕШИГИ ROMA оносон page 158) 


perform a hilarious human comedy far 
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bly h: me, or cveryone would 

look at Fellin p 
nerally an early riser, Fellini ap- 
pears in ihe real workaday Rome for a 
morning the Grand Hotel's 
wood-paneled Rallye Bar. He is talking 
about young Am He 


collee at 


directors. 


likes Mike Nichols and especially Carnal 
Knowledge, American 
ng has a v nsive sound, 
Here, they translated the dubbed version 
into pure Italian, the style of Dante, 
then added some of the coarsest words in 
nguage. So it comes out very shod 
с an Oxford profesor talking 
Not so surprisingly, Fellini gives. 
hest marks to director Stanley Ku- 
brick, whose 2001: A Space Odyssey 
struck him as his kind of nip. 

“Roma” is a trip. . . . 

To the Spanish Steps, where spaced- 
out hippies gaiher en masse. The West- 
ern world's new refugees—laden with pot 
and babies and backpacks. 

To the fountain of the Pincio, where 
half-nude boys and girls make a quasi- 
igious ritual of bathing. 

Young audiences groove on Fellini. 
but the rin return expresses a 
degree of disenchantment with youth 
“There is a generation gap. It's i 
ble to talk to them, to cross the bri 
of noncommu 
that group identity. They are another 
1 of creature, compared with my 


у. 


апа 


“If those are speakers, they should be seven 
to twelve feet apart.” 


generation in the time when I came to 
Rome. Sex is no longer a problem for 
them, yet they are not really liberated 
sexually, they are simply under the pow- 
er of other, equally strong taboos. They 
mate like ls, or vermin, or worms 
—with all due respect for worms.” A 
sequence in Roma spells out the prob- 
lem, when a group of students chal- 
lenges Fellini to explain why his film 
fails to deal with Rome's social condi- 
tions in а pol As 
i s personal and poetic vision 
were insufficient without that standard- 


ally committed w: 


ized label of “relevance.” 
Still, the director declares himself grat- 

ified by young pcoples appreciation of 

his work. “In New York and L. ter 


Satyricon, they would approach me on 
the street and press a little package into 
my hand. A gift of grass. Then Satyricon 
was shown to a big audience that had 
come from а rock concert by a boy whos: 
name I forget, quite famous. He used to 
masturbate onstage and was always being 
rrested. The youngsters there were smok- 
ng everything, anything. The response 
was tremendous,” 

In reply to a query about diugs— 
whether п unordained high 
priest for the wip mentality, has ever 
been tempted to satisfy his own curiosity 
on the subject—Fellini places a finger to 
his lips. The shushing gesture is only 
partly a joke, for Rome's militant police 
have busted so many people that wags 
in London and Paris claim there is no 
Talian movie industry—because every- 
one has gone to jail. Fellini himself has 
recently volunteered to testify for 
young French actor, Pierre Clementi 
who has spent one year in prison und 
faces two more years for possessing a 
small amount of marijuana. 
levertheless, Fellini is ready to de- 
scribe his one-and-only experience 
LSD. “Naturally,” he begins, with cha 
acteristic slyness, “it brought me down a 
bit hom my usual high norm.” The 
experience came about some years ago, 
when a group of "medical rese: 
and chemists” asked him to volunteer 
lor a controlled experiment. "I kept 
saying yes, certainly, but 1 was afraid. 
Then they caught. me in the street one 
day So I 
called my wife and told her I would not 
he home, I didn't say I was taking a trip. 

“Anyway, they led me to а room some- 
where, filled with nurses, 14 or 15 people 
Then they left me alone and went 
to prepare this elixir that resembled 
plain water. ‘Here,’ they said. I drank it 
Nothing happened. They brought me a 
book of art, paintings and asked me 
what did I see. I told 
"Very nice; I like Matisse" Pretty soon 
they played some music. "What do you 


he, as 


rchers. 


nd said we must do it now. 


them. 


7 


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ee — — mmm 


hear?” they asked. I told them, ‘Bach. 
Its beautiful, Bach.” But soon after, I 
felt this strange, warm, burning sens 
tion, a tingle from the back of my brain 
to the base of my spine. I began to wal 
I walked for nine hours, they told me, 
talking the whole time. 

“It was a mystical, religious experi- 
ence. I feel an artist owes himself to try 
it, but perhaps only once.” Fellini fum- 
bles to recall the melting colors of su 
set in a garden, a green sofa with 
greenness abstracted from the object it- 
self. “Words are useless here, me ү 
symbols between you and this rea 
where all barriers are melted. To dd 
scribe it in words . . . it's like describing 
fucking to some guy who has no prick.” 


"Roma" is a supertrip, surreal. and. 
awesome. 

To the Raccordo Anutare, Rome's 
modern autostrada. that encircles the 
heart of the old city with a band of 
poisonous exhaust. A vision of the “In- 
ferno” on wheels. 

To La Metropolitana, the Roman sub- 
way system as the setting for a nightmare 
fantasy: A group of journalists travels 
into the bowels of the Eternal City and 
sees 1000 years of history erased when sub- 
way consiruction workers come upon ап 
ancient buried villa, polluting and de- 
stroying its treasures. 


" is Fellini's brain 
We can have lunch 


“Lets go to Osti 
storm for the di 


en: 
g а foursome to the beach in 
green Mercedes sedan, Fellini 
seldom touches the wheel, though he 
somehow manages to keep the car on 
the road without omitting a single Ital- 
sture. Art, religion, parapsychol- 
d Roma are among the topics 
en route. 

He discusses the Trastevere sequence 
of Roma, in which Mastroianni, 
dian Alberto Sordi, Anna Magnani and 
Gore Vidal appear briefly as themselves. 
They represent, for me, important fac 
ets of Roman society. Marcello has such 
typically Roman attitudes, Sordi is so 
аис, Magnani so diffident. Vidal, of 
course, is a type of foreign intellectual 
who goes native, as you say. He is cap- 
tured by Rome. Madama Roma has chil- 
dren all over the world.” 

Fellini acknowledges the heavily traf- 
ficked Raccordo Anulare with a mere nod 

on to discuss ESP. He has a psy- 
t friend whom he often consults 
on questions related to his work. “The 
unknown is what interests me. I like to 
be involved in mystery. In pı 
I have no identifiable set of attit 
my work, however, I have 
beac y 

“You look more like a bloody car- 
dinal," remarks his friend Aragno, 


ian 


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PLAYBOY 


234 


commenting on Е 5 bluevelour 
jacket and crimson tic. "Federico really 
5 a cardinal, of course. That explains 
why he's so preoccupied with ritual and 
all those wide, enormous bottoms.” 

The jibe makes Fellini laugh, but he 
shrugs it off and continues: "I believe 
the public, also the critics, like to be 
told what to think when they 1 
theater, and usually they want to a 
with it. If you show them the richness 
nd ambiguity of life, they become frus 


trated. It is the same when they a 

church. Traditionally, people like things 

to be codified, answers offered; so they 
tracted to religion, which takes the 


place of a direc, fearful contact be- 
tween you and the darkness, 

“Still, the young protesters who be- 
lieve in nothing are rather pathetic. For 
me, the ultimate protest is to resist раї 
ad disillusion, ism and boredom. 
How does one ever become bored? 
There is not enough time. 

“Roma” runs riot in the eye-popping 
défilé, show. 
Imagined by a zany old principessa and 
style—seminarians in 
matched cassocks enter on roller skates, 
hand in hand; nuns prance and pivot as 
if their habits were part of a Paris 
collection, while cardinals and the Pope 
strut (heir stuff in a kaleidoscopic spec 
tacle with high-camp, and possibly homo- 
sexual, overtones, 

At the Piccola 
food. 


an ecclesiastical fashion 


staged bravura 


ett, or Little Pi 
in Очі 
spot 
question about th 
tion to Roma. “Odd as it sounds, th 
best response to the film has been from 
priests and Communists. The priests 1 
understand, In th defile, 
they are mocked and glorified at the 
same time, So they miss the parody and 
see only the glorification. It is their 
Dlindness; ther vanity.” The thought 
seems to amuse him. Regarding the 
Communists, he remains ballled. “One 
writer for a Communist periodical has 
never liked any of my films, but now he 
writes an apology because of Roma. 1 
always called him a shit. so what am 1 
to do? He is probably still a shit who 
just happens to like Roma 

The headwaiter recognizes Fellini, 
calls maestro and ceremoniously 
leads the way to a ch Me with a 
view of the surf—though the : 
room is virtually empty on this off season 
afternoon. ‘The ly relishes 
the performance. "An artist," he 
из. "In Italy, there are 25,000,000 
artists. We are а nation of artists, mostly 
people who want to save the world by 
making pictures. What we need are 
qaltsmen—a few good, steady workers.” 


ine, 
Fellini 


him 


din 


maestro clea 


Halfway through lundi, someone di- 
rec his attention to a table on ihe 
sunlit terrazzo just outside. A stunning 
black girl, seated across from a slim 


blonde with a camera on her shoulder. 
The blonde waves and Fellini thinks he 
knows her. Moments later, he waggles a 
finger at the headwaiter and remarks. 
aside that it might be nice if those 
young ladies were to join us for an 
espresso. 

And so they do. The photographer, 
Mila, is on assignment for a Roman 
weekly and having a stroke of luck to- 
day. Across from Fellini she places her 
friend S tha, exotic Fi O- 
American beauty wearing red slacks and 

multicolored top to match her wildly 
multicolored eye make-up. Samantha's 
lashes are well over an inch long. On 
jacket sleeve is sewn an emblem 


bemused, 

me of being courtly. 
say fuck me?” he ask 
taken? Maybe its my | 
Inuigued by the n 
pens it several tim 
way she paints he 
engrossed in 

mound is sensu 


Thou 


am 

English. 
tha, he re- 
the 


you ad.” Samantha looks flattered, 
and with reason, for Fellini's wide-opel 
conveys nothing that a 
bird of passage could call pre- 
sumptuous or suggestive. 

After ch, with. 
members of the group stopping here 


a stroll down the 


^d there to discard shoes or pose for 
impromptu photos, Mila and Samantha 
bid goodbye. "The next time you hear I 
am working, come to sce me." says F 
ini Samantha promises to do just 
t and the scene jells: This is Fellin 


Rome in the dusky golden light of 
Jate afternoon is a marvel from anothe 
rooltop bar at the Hotel Hassler, near 


the Spanish Steps and walking distance 
from Fellini's house on the Via Ma 


gutta. The restaurant. will not be оре 
for another hour, but they open it for 
Fellini, who enjoys the view—a wrap- 
around cityscape in shades of terra coi 

Fellini is talking about а famous 
arest who cued his 
nesthetic drugs lo 

He has alo bee 


near 


stories about а Ron 
considerable. reputation сирипс- 
Years ago, I had a colleague who 
was impotent. He tried. psychoanalysi 
physical therapy, everything. 7 he 
went for acupunctui 
these gold and metallic needles 
round his head and neck and w 
thrce days he was able to achieve 
erection.” 


turist. 


hea 


The doctor placed 
all 


Questioned as to the permanence. of 
his friend's cure, Fellini pauses for a 
count of two. “The last time 1 saw him, 
he was doing fine. Of course, he can only 
make love with the needles in. . . ." 


The weird, brilliant climax of “Roma” 
is a cullural clash between a band of 
leather-clad motorcycle bums and the 
city itself. Headlights blazing, engines 
rearing, the cyclists rip through the 
night past the Castel Sant" Angelo, the 
Colosseum, the Imperial Forum, the Ber- 
nini Fountains—as if to pulverize the very 
stones of antiquity. 


s true," says Fellini, “that there is a 
nightmare quality about the motociclisti 
t thc end of my picture, yet this does 
mot specifically imply criticism. While 
they are indifferent to the old city, the 
old, cynical city is equally indifferent to 
them.” 

That eve g, Fellini goes to a screen- 
ing of Kubrick's 4 Clockwork Orange. 
He admires the first half somewhat mot 
than the second but notes a kind of 
esthetic kinship with parts of Roma. 
Now he has begun to sense the fester 
ng itch of a new project. Maybe d 
of ballad, or pop saga, to be filmed near 
Ostia. Maybe The Voyage of G. Mas 
torna, another frankly autobiographical 
epic he has wanted to do for years, in 
black and white. “This Mastorna is a 
film that grew out of a very unsettled 
time in my life. Also, I am thinking 
about some of the people I used to 
know in my home country, around R 
ini. | want to go back there and th 
about it. Maybe I should confound eve 
one at last and make a film with 
actors—and no director. 

With half the young 
the world perennially рт 
ics that critics call Felliniesque, a Fell 
film is a film by Fellini, who cin do no 
other kind. “You try to forget what the 
public expects of you,” he says, as if he 
allenge, "and I fecl I 
succeed in that. I never consider making 
film against my nature, and there 
be а constant effort to mainta 
integrity.” In other words—cven precise- 
ly in his words—the wonder man of 
world cinema is on his own trip, scan 
ning the horizons with no arrivederci, 
Roma. “Usually, point, T 
two or three films in my head and I 
unsure of myself. ll know I am ready 
to begin actually working on a mew 
picture when I begin to hate it. 1 get 
full of this hate, thinking the public will 


no 


film m 
nding out mo 


welcomes the ch 


really loathe this film, this will finish 
me. Then one day you launch your bı 
from the shore and you set ou 


always an adventure—not know 
the dest: will be. 


ng what 


нш ои holler “Со ome 'n' get it,” you'd 
o about grub!” 


235 


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236 


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