PLAYBOY

ENTERTAINMENT FOR

Break out the Gilbey’ Gin, boys,
and keep your martinis dry!

DISTILLED LONDON DRY GIN. 90 PROOF. 100% GRAIN NEUTRAL SPIRITS. W. & A. GILBEY. LTD., OISTR. BY NATIONAL DISTILLERS PRODUCIS CO., N.Y. С.

Volkswagen announces
a limited-edition Volkswagen.

The Sports Bug

Bet you thought we'd never do it

Well, catch this:

Oversize radial tires. Mounted on
snazzy mag-type wheels.

Indy-type steering wheel. Covered in
simulated leather over thick padding.

True sports bucket seats. With con-
toured vinyl sides and no-slip fabric. To
hold you comfortably while cornering.

Short-throw synchro stick shift. The
foster you shift, the faster it shifts.

Spirited air-cooled engine. Cast with
lightweight aluminum-magnesium alloy
Just like in Super Vee racing engines

Four-wheel independent suspension
McPherson-design coil/shock combo
vp front. Double-jointed reor oxle with
independent trailing arms in back.

Special high-gloss paint job. In Saturn
Yellow. Or Marathon Silver Metallic.

Jet black trimming.

фуга: or anran, mer

Options? All kinds. like racing stripes.
Flare-tip pipes. Stereo radio. And more.

If this sounds like whot you've been
waiting for from us, wcit no more.

We built only a limited number of our
special-edition Sports Bug.

After all, we can't make too much of o

good thing,

mes

PLAYBOY

ager That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined

King Sie. 18 mg. "tar 13 mg. nicotine; 100 mm. 20 ng. "tar. 14 mg. nicotine: av. per cigarette, FIC Report Feb. 73

PLAYBILL ШІ КОРЫ N ol crisis

when even the cc
servative Chicago Tribune bridles ed

torially at the Nixon Administration's
heavy-handed treatment of the med
Our April issue contained a special Forum

report on the censorship controversy, and
in this month's Playboy Interview, vet-
eran newscaster Walter Cronkite leaves
his anchor desk to join the fight. Cronkite
charges the White House with conspiring
to muzzle the press—and admits he was
wrong in defending the Viet

me when Young Turk jou
ging about the rice paddics with the grunts
were saying that the “light at the end of
the tunnel” was a dead end. The inter-
view reveal npassioned side of Cı
kite that he seldom exposes on TV. “In the
way from the came

newsro

t same cool,
professional level in about 90 seconds
In our interview, Cronkite sust

nger somewhat longer. In We Are All
Bui Doi" (illustrated by Michael Peters),
one of those who were right about the
war, Gloria Emerson, New York Times
correspondent in Saigon from 1970 to
1979, poignantly relates a s

gnettes centered on people who touched
her deeply in Vietnam. “There was never
such a two yeas,” she says, "and the re-
minders of them are not only within me.
‘There are the veterans who wear their
U.S. Army field jackets, and there are
other American women who know the
names Long Binh and Tuy Hoa. I wish
1 could go back, for I never properly said
goodbye." The farewells may go unsaid
the Thieu regime has banned Emerson
from the country.

А writer who sulfered more dearly for
his unpopular political views was expatri
ate poct Ezra Pound. Author-aitic Alfred
Kazin's The Writer as Political Crazy, і
Ilustrated by Don Baum. dissects the ideo-
logical naiveté of literati such as Pou
who was interned 12 fer making
antiSemitic broadcasts from fascist Italy
during World War Two. "Fm oli
scared out of. my wits by wh i
say about politics,”
wes his own pol
worth a damn.

In The Teachings of Don Wow, Staff
Writer Laurence Gonzales enters the best-
selling search for truth and beauty with
a spool of the chameleon anthropologist-
novelist and latter-day mystic, Carlos
Castaneda, "I really take Ше Castaneda
books very seriously, but the idea of a
100 good to pass up." say
Another send-up, Richard. D.
Smith's Hollywood's Neglected Genius,
about Albert "s “second career,
sprang from experiences in a college
physics lab where, as a premed student,
the author grappled with the theory of
relativity SUI КӨДЕ та, ss тас
perspiration than insp the
physicist’s famous equ

ies ol

ical

parody w

GONZALES

“This piece is my affectionate revenge.
Sports Illustrated's Bil Gilbert, who by
now is canocing across the Arctic Ocean
retracing the route of early explorers, takes
а junket with an old rodeo star turned
promoter in Where the West Has
Jon Bradshaw (who explained ba
mon in our March issue) contrasts two
blers, one riding the crest. the other
drowning, in Winnersand Losers.

June's lead fiction, Do with Me What
You Will, by Joyce Carol Oates—part of
a novel to be published later this year—is
а fresh treatment of an old subject: rape
‘The illustration of Oates's brooding rap-
ist and his shattered victim is by Art Di-
rector Arthur Paul, who has been busy
continenchopping with "Beyond Ilus-
tration." an exhibition of award-winning
works that have appeared in rtavmoy
over the years and that emphasize the
imerrelationship of illustration and fine
art. Paul organized the show. which i
now tou «and will come to th
country ‘That amorous arch-
rogue Ha does a different

Geo

the Charge, also to be published (by
Knopf) later this year. After you return
ad points East, try son
thing closer to home: Robert McNcar's
Neighbors is a mystery in the class of
Hitchcock's vintage thriller Rear Win-
dow, MeNear, who lives in a Chicago
high-r Be," was moved to write the
story when, while barbecuing on his t
racc, he met a girl in the complex fac
his across il wondering.
he says. “if vou could fall in love like that,
with only a pair of binoculars, without
knowing the other person's name.”

A name that should be familiar to
PLAYBOY readers is Marilyn Cole, our
Playmate of the Year; Playboy Club key-
holders should be on a first-name basis
with June Playmate Ruthy Ross. who re-
cently completed her reign as Bunny of
the Year. Almost as easy on the cyes is a
San Francisco duplex (photographed by
Jet Cohen) that’s dithdent on the out-
side and dazzling on the inside. For a
different kind of trip, follow, if you
the world’s meanest m Fastest!
Then have your taste buds supercharged
with Jack Denton Scott's No-Cooking
Cookout. Шу, there's Playboy's Gifts
for Dads and Grads, a grand collection ol
treats for giving and getting. We hope
that you find this issue а пеш in isell,

an,

vol. 20, no. 6—june, 1973

PLAYBOY.

CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE

PLAYBILL. = sa » -— я a 3

DEAR PLAYBOY.. on - 11

PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS | = 19

воокз. . 20

DINING -DRINKING. ~ 26

movies 28

MUSIC 36

RECORDINGS. 4o

THEATER... -— 44

THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR sı

THE PLAYBOY FORUM. > 55

PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: WALTER CRONKITE—candid conversation 67

DO WITH ME WHAT YOU WILL—ficti JOYCE CAROL OATES 92

WE ARE ALL “BU! DOI"—arlicle. GLORIA EMERSON 96

WOMAN'S WORK —pictorial ээ

THE WRITER AS POLITICAL CRAZY—ariicle ALFRED KAZIN 107

THE TEACHINGS OF DON WOW —porody. LAURENCE GONZALES 110

TAKING THE PLUNGE—attire. ғ 5 ROBERT L GREEN 112

WINNERS AND LOSERS — article. JON BRADSHAW 118

SUPERBUNNY—playboy's playmate of the month 120

PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor 130

FASTEST!— pictorial. 132

NEIGHBORS—fiction ROBERT MC NEAR 137

PLAYBOY'S GIFTS FOR DADS AND GRADS—sitts 139

FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE— fiction. GEORGE MACDONALD FRASER 142

THE NO-COOKING COOKOUT—food and drink JACK DENTON SCOTT 145

HOLLYWOOD'S NEGLECTED GENIUS—humer. RICHARD D. SMITH 147

Top Playmate PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR—pictorial 15%

THE VARGAS GIRL—pictorial ALBERTO VARGAS 160

THE MACHACA REBELLION—ribold clas 161

WHERE THE WEST HAS GONE—personclity BIL GILBERT 162

PLAYBOY PAD: BIGGER THAN А BREADBOX—mocern living 165

ON THE SCENE— personalities... 180

5% PLAYBOY POTPOURRI то
LOOKS

Winners/Losers P. 118 LITTLE ANNIE FANNY—satire 0-0 HARVEY KURTZMAIN and WILL ELDER 251

GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 NORTH MICHIGAN AVE , CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 62611. RETURN POSTAGE MUST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS SUBMITTED.
IF THEY ARE TOBE RETURNED AND KO RESPONSIBILITY САХ BE ASSUMED FOR UASOLICITEO MATERIALS. ALL RIGHTS Ih LETTERS SENT ТО PLAYBOY WILL RE TREATED AS UNCONDITIONALLY ASSIGNED
Fon PUBLICATION AND COPY MIGHT PURPOSES AND AS SUBJECT TO PLAYBOY'S UNRESTRICTED RIGHT TD EDIT AND ТО CON MENT FOITORIALLY CONTENTS COPYRIGHT © 173 BY PLAYBOY ALL MIGHTS
PESERVED PLAYBOY AND RAHDIT HEAD ЗҮ НВО. ARE HARKS OF PLAYBOY. REGISTERED U. 5. PATENT OFFICE, MARCA REGISTRADA, MARQUE DEPOSEE. NOTHING HAY EE REPRINTED IN WHOLE ORIN
PART WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM тыг PUBLISHER. ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN THE PEOPLE AND PLACES IN THE FICTION AND SEMIFICTION IN THIS MAGAZINE AND ANY REAL PEOPLE
AND PLACES 15 PURELY COINCIDENTAL CREOITS: COVER: MODEL PLAYMATE CF THE YEAR MARILYN COLE. DESIGNED BY TOM STAESLER, PHOTOGRAPHY BY DWIGHT HOOKER. OTHER
Моз бам CHAN, P. з, HAROLD CHAPMAN, 3, ALAN CLIFTON, P. э; RICH CLUTME, P. 122. CHRISTINA D'ALLOREO, P. 5, MICARD FEGLEY.P. 182, BILL FRANTZ,

DWIGHT HOOKER. P. 150; CARL IRI, P. 121 29; ALEXANDRA LAWRENCE, P. 5; MINDAS, P. 120, 122, 123, 124: 3. BARRY

тє ILLUSTRATED PHOTO ву MES PUPRING @ TIME (nc. P. э. GENE ттт. F 124 (2) ALEKAS пл P 151155 (0

P. 3 (2): LARRY DALE GORDON, P. 3, 151157, 150. RICKARD HEWETT, Р. 12
‘ROURKE, P 3 (2). SUZANNE SEED. ғ 2 (2): VETHON L SMIN. г э. SP

PLAYBOY JUNE 1971 VOLUME 20. NUMBER 6 PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY PLAYBOY, IN NATIONAL ANO REGIONAL EDITIONS PLAYBOY BUILDING. BIB NORTH MICHIGAN AVENTE,
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611. SECOND-CLASS POSTAGE PAID AT CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, AND AT ADDITIONAL MAILING OFFICES SUBSCRIPTIONS: IN THE UNITED STATES, $10 FOR ONE YEAR

again and again with the same expectancy of pleas-
ure and never be disappointed?

And, imthat sense, a rare pleasure.
But J&B is also one of the most popular scotches їй
“the world. And, in that sense, a very frequent
` pleasure.
Which just goes to prove once again that life is full
bf beautiful contradictions.

86 Proof Blended Scotch Whisky © 1973 Paddington Corp., N.Y.

B, we're happy to say, is one of those things? |

RARE
sCONCH

The Pleasure Principle

PLAYBOY

"Don't go, my boy,” he pleaded.
"You're under a lot of pressure down there'

“GOOD-BYE
NICK”

Î was the son of a courageous frogman and a Cypress
Gardens water skier. Scuba diving was my heritage, but the shaving
nicks and cuts on my face almost sent meto a watery grave. Even my
captain began calling me Nick I can still see his face the day I left
on my biggest underwater scavenging mission.
His voice trembled. "Don't q= =
go, my boy. You're under a
lot of pressure down there,
and when those sharks see
that blood. . it'll be Davy
Jones Locker for you:
I laughed him to scorn.
Down, down, down I
went. And then, it hap-
pened! A frisky seahorse
knocked the bandage
off my face. And when I saw
the shark's dark shadow „/
over my shoulder, I
thought it was Good-bye
ick. I had only one arrow
left in my speargun. But Nep-
tune was watching over me,
for that one arrow was enough
That night, I told my story to a
sympathetic bartender. He handed me а
razor “Try the Gillette Techmatic" razor,
chum Comesina refillable continuous car-
tridge so you'll never have to touch
another blade. No corners к
tocutand nick your face. Andit's adjustable to any shaving conditions"
After using the Gillette Techmatic, 1 was offered the
Р leading role in a new television
underwater series

“әз

4 o

Ng

With Gillette TECHMATIC
it's good-bye Nick

Corner Company, Boston, Mas:

PLAYBOY

HUGH M. HEFNER
editor and publisher

ARTHUR KRETCHMER executive editor
ARTHUR PAUL art director
SHELDON WAX managing editor.
MARK KAUFFMAN photography editor

MURRAY FISHER, NAT LEHKMAN
assistant managing editors

EDITORIAL
ARTICLES: DAVID BUTLER editor, GEOFFREY
NURMAN associate edilor, ©. MARRY COLSON
assistant editor e FICTION: ROBIE MACAULEY
editor, STANLEY PALEY associate editor,
SUZANNE MC NEAR, WALTER SUBLETTE assistant
editors « SERVICE FEATURES: TOM OWEN
modern living editor, KOGER WIENER. assist-
ant editor; wowcter L. GREEN fashion director,
т asociate fashion director, wa.
is fashion edilor; THOMAS MARIO
food & drink editor + CART —
Urky editor e COPY: ARLENE nouRAS editor,
STAN AMBER assistant editor = STAFF: MICHAEL
LAURENCE, KORERT J. SHEA, DAVID STEVENS

nior « $ LAURENCE CONZAI
TERTON, STANDISH, CRAIG V
writers: AS BAUER, WILLIAM. J.

GRETCHEN MC NEESE, CARL SNYDER associate
editors; DOUGLAS C. MENSON. ROBERT 1
HAUGH, J. F. O'CONNOR, JAMES R. PETERSEN,
ARNIE WOLFE assistant. editors; SUSAN EISLER,
MARIA XERAM, МАМАНА NELLIS, KAREN PAD
DERUD, LAURIE SADLER, BERNICE Т. ZIMMERMAN
research editors; J. PAUL Getty (business &
finance), NAY MENTOFF, JACK Je KESSIE,
RICHARD WARREN LEWIS, RAY RUSEIL, JEAN
SHEPHERD, JONN SKOW, BRUCE WILLIAMSON
(movies), TOMI UNGERER contributing editors
ADMINISTRATIVE SERVICES: тиго FREDERICK
personnel director; тәсіл ANGELIS
administrative editor; CATHERINE GENOVESE
rights © permissions; MILDRED ZIMMERMAN
administrative assistant

ART

эм STAPLER, KERIC associate directors;
ICHAEL SISSON executive assistant; mon
POST, ROY MOODY, LEN WILLIS, CHET SUSKI, GOR-
DON MORTENSEN, FRED NELSON, JOSEPH PACZEK,
ALFRED ZELCER assistant directors; JULIE EALERS,
VICTOR HUBBARD, GLENN STEWARD cL assistants

PHOTOGRAPHY
MARILYN CRABOWSKIE west coast edit
GARY COLE, HOLUS WAYNE associate edi.
Jor; ша.” зіміз technical editor: w
AISENAULT, PON AZUMA, DAVID CHAN, RICHARD
FEGLEY, DWIGHT HOOKER, POMPEO Y
Photographers; mamo casia,

g photo JUDY JOHNSON
assistant edito; photo lib super-
visor; JANICE BERKOWITZ MOSES сіне) stylist;
ROBERT CHELIUS administrative edilor

PRODUCTION
JONN MASTRO director; ALLEN VARGO man-
ager; ELEANORE WAGNER, RIFA — JOIINSON,

MARIA MANDIS, RICHARD QUARTAROLL assistants

READER SERVICE,
CAKOLE сили; director
CIRCULATION
THOMAS б. WILLIAMS customer service

Myin wieso subscription manager:
AT THOMPSON newsstand manager

ADVERTISING
MOWAND w, LEDERER advertising director

PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES, INC.
ROMERT 5 PREUSS business manager and
associate publisher; MCNARD s. NOSENZN
executive assistant to the publishe
RICHARD м. КОРЕ assistant publisher

+
м;

Whatever your ais
i probabl obably dorit include
` “tire trouble.

&

Let Firestone put steel between
you and tire trouble.

The 40,000 mile Steel Radial 500...another people tire from

(000060900

a great painting is more
and paints, there are
ond the

some things that go bey
sum of their parts. The Porsche
Targa is such an object.

It is a piece of
machinery whose
purpose far ex-
ceeds transport-
ing you from one

point to another. The Targa's
goal is to afford the ultimate driv-
ing experience. In performance,
in engineering, in comfort.

The Targa has come amazingly

close to that goal; each year, with
subtle improvements, a bit more.

First, c ler its superbly
thought-out features. It has a
built-in roll bar, and a huge fixed
rear window. То give the car the
practicality of a hardtop coupe.
And you the exhilarating experi-
ence of a roadster.

It has an aerodynamic shape,

to protect you from wind blast.

Anda rear-engine design that has

АП controls are meticulously
engine died to be functional and

f these

With the removable top stored

in the trunk, cushioned in luxu-
rious bucket seats, you ride in

“Belle Epoque”

But the grandest
is the experience of driv-
ing it.
The handling is quick, correct,
eof Porsche? s ms

oration. It is almost as if you just

“think” where you want the car to

go.
The Targa is avail
three 911 mod
and 9115.
But be warned.
It is very difficult to be humble
about owning any Porsche. And
Targa, that’s IT.

le in all

PLAYBOY

CANADIAN WHISKY—A BLEND OF SELECTED WHISKIES. 6 YEARS OLO. 86.8 PROOF. SEAGRAM DISTILLERS COMPANY, N. Y.C.

Only La Scala is La Scala.
Only VO is VO.

Î Italian Opera—line

Among the worlds great opera houses,
there is only one LaScala. Part fortress,
part cathedral, part university, it has stood
since 1778 in the center of Milan.

Inside LaScala, statues of Verdi,
Puccini, Rossini, Toscanini —giants of the

velvet halls. The great
auditorium is acknowl-
edged to be the most
beautiful in the world.
Gold-and-cream-and-
red, lined with priceless
silk tapestries, its ampli-

| tude has space for 3,000}

people.

A single performance in this great
auditorium can elevate a singer to stardom
~or destroy him. Dignified, tuxedoed
gentlemen have thrown their shoes
against the stage toshow their disapproval:
elegant ladies hurl programs and opera
glasses. Elderly aficionados remember
Toscanini’ terrible temper, Caruso’
stirring high Cs.

And through it all, only LaScala is
LaScala. A continuing celebration of
excellence; a one-of-a-kind creation ina
changing world.

Like LaScala, Seagram's VO. Canadian
is also one-of-a-kind; another continuing
celebration of excellence. It too stands
alone, since 1857, as a whisky uncompro-

od mising in quality, with a tradi-

tion of craftsmanship that has

made it The First Canadian in

smoothness. The First Canadian

in lightness. And The Fire (ШІ

Canadian in popularity E

throughout the world. RE
OnlylaScdais f

LaScala. Only VO. is

VO. All the others

come after.

Seagram's w
The First Canadian.

DEAR PLAYBOY

ЕЗ 02" плувоу MAGAZINE - PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 N. MICHIGAN AVE., CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611

IDE DOWN UNDER

Going Back to the Nation. Reg Pouer-
ton’s personal March tra Austral-
ja, is a most captiva ating

article. Potterton’s vivid perception is
matched by his warm sense of humor, and
iner js unpretentious and invig-
g. He represents what little is left of
the life force on this planet. Thank you
for publishing him.

Larry Williamson

San Luis Obispo, California

his nx

While still a youngster. T dreamed of
one day emigrating 10 Australia. which
seemed to me like a fairy-tale land of
magic and strange creatures, Now I am in
college, where I hear reports of injustice
done to the aborigines, and my dream
is fading. When I first glanced ar Pot-
terton’s Going Back lo the Nation, 1 ex-

tours

report on pack

pected anothei
and tourists. Bur once I began to read it
1 was hooked. Potterton’s account is writ-
ten on such a gut level that I couldn't
help but realize that my childhood (ап
sy was correct. Once 1 hope some-
day to find the magic of Australia for
myself. For now, 1 have Potterton's
id I'm confident that it will
keep my dream alive

Michael F. Blashka
Bronx. New York

For me, Australia is characterized by an
insularity of both mind and spirit, The
populace exists in a haven ol quasi
ignorance, where the residual actrieve-
ments of Western culture—American and
British road companies of the bigger hit
plays and musicals, TV shows purchased
from the U. S. and England, а Pacific edi-
tion of Time—ae enough to reassure
Australians that they're not really so re
moved from modern n ter of ac-

8

ht be
descri] k. L can tell you.
got it right. I found his writing on Aus-
tralia’s more desolate reaches and those
who people them particularly affectis
Around the turn of the century, Aus-
tralian Joseph Furphy wrote а book
about the outback culled Such Is Life.
In it he declared: “It is not in our
cities or townships, it is not in our ад
ning t the Austral-
ttains full consciousness of his own

tertol

tivity, wherever that mi s

ion of the outh:

nationality; it is places like this, and as
dearly here as at the center of the com

nent!" Very forthright fellow, Furpl

exclamation mark and

George Malk

ew York, New York

Malko last appeared in our pages in

February 1972 with “America: Loved It

and Left It," a report on a disenchanted

American who emigrated to Australia

COVER LOVERS
Your Маг cover is fabulous!
ight Hooker's photographic uncove
age of BunnyPlaymate Mercy Rooney
must surely come out in poster size soon.
I can tell you, thousands are looking
forward to it

Donald Kline
Collegeville, Pennsylva

Without a doubt, your March cover is
the best 1 have seen, on any maga
ever.

Robert Molinaro
Belleville, New Jersey

KING OF GAMES
Your back;
March) is in projecting the
gambling spirit and intrigue of the game
The Idaho Association of Backgammon
extends a challenge to any player, across
the continent, for a 48-hour game, to be
played over a period of four days, using
the rules set down by the Dackg,
Association of America. Times wi
anged to suit any opponent.
H. L. Gunderson, Chairman
Idaho Association of Bac
Boise, Idaho

mmon takeout (

upe

Michael Laurence's Backgammon Sc-
crets and Subilelies provides bot
cellent overview and detailed ii
into an exceptionally fascinating ¢

James Preston Harley, Ph.
Ann Arbor, Mid

ълувоуз efforts to promote bi
mon as the game for the elite are
ing, in a pathetic kind of way. When I
was a kid, every neighborhood Wool-
words sold cheap checkerboards with
backs
But most people preferred to play chess
or checkers, games of skill, rather than

imon pips ow the reverse side

ANGELES. STANLEY L. PERKINS, MANACER, 9721 DEVERLY

CO. ILLINOIS есен. SUBSCRIPTIONS: IK тиг UNITED STATES, ITS POSSESSIONS AND CANADA, 324 TOR THREE

ma

NES

Introducing the '*first-
take" battery cassette
recorder from Zenith. The
one that gets it right the first
time. With permanent,
integral Porta-Mike — no
fumbling for the microphone
jack. Plus Automatic Level
Control, for practically
distortion-free recording
accuracy. And you can
record directly from the
built-in FM/AM radio, if you
want. Hear The Centurion,
model E623Y, at your
Zenith dealer's.

The quality goes in
before the name goes on.

n

PLAYBOY

12

backgammon, a game of dumb luck. Back-

gammon is a foppish form of craps. A pre«

vious On the Scene (PLAYBOY, February),

on Prince Alexis Obolensky, also stressed

backgammon. Does Hefner own stock in
a backgammon company or something?

Terry I

Pacific Palisades, California

Hefner simply likes the game, as do

millions of othe

on

Tt was with great interest that I read
Jon Bradshaw's Backgammon Lore and
Lure. The return. of backgammon as a
bigtime game is especially encow
to a backgammon freak like myself.

Tiberius Z. Hern
Nashville, Indiana

MIXED MODIFIERS
A dozen M & M's as positive reinforce-
ment to Stephen H. Yala for Zap! You're
Normal (rtavnoy, March), his inform-
ative report on behavior modificati
therapy. At one point in the а
1 wanted to admonish him for specu
ing that behavior-modification ta
would produce “a bunch of
living in happy harmony wi
ronment.”

h their envi-
Then I read his reflections on

the warmongering ethics of our present-
world and got to wondering whether

a planet full of mellow folks might not be
such a bad place ll.
Larry MacDonald, Ph.D.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

In reference to the mod squad (the
youthful. practitioners of behavior-mod
fu оп thes mments; “If
ever а group of als needed to
reshape its public image. [irs] the mod
squad." Yet, despite his grudging admira-
tion of the ellectiveness and empi
verifiability of behavior modificatio
а does little to brighten the reputa-
on of behavior therapy. Perhaps by
calling behavior therapists "the new hu-
ther than ting them
with such terms as Yafa
could have done more justice 10 the
subjec—and his own estimation of

Rosemery Nelson, Ph.D.

Assistant Professor of Psychology
University of North Caro
Greensboro, North Caroli

associ

Neo-Nazis,

Critics of beh:
sce a nightm
the mod squad get its w:
se. Behavior modifi
When a child fast learns to talk, he
models after the speech of the parents. If
the parents approve, they show affection
for the child, which reinforces successive
approximation of the desired termi
sponse, talking. Later on, when p:
teach their child to sty Daddy instead of
they use the conditioning devices
of extinction and discrimination training
procedure. All of which is to say that

dor modification. fore-
lation. should
This
tion is as old as

© of manipu

i non-

behavior modification is nothing to fear.
Everyone has been subjected to it—and
has exercised it—throughout life.
Nancy Neef
Kalamazoo, Michigan

As Yafa points out, the fact stands that
conditioning initiates and alters beha
ior. both deviant and normal. But I've
got one question: Who decides which be-
havior is desirable and which ізгі?
Martin J. Bohan
Normal, Ilinois

Yafa is a marvelous writer. His descrip-
of his interview with Dave Fisher was
as evocative as anything Гуе ever read
The biggest worry in behavior is who con-
trols the controllers. But the control'ers,
it should be quite dear, are as much con.
trolled by the environment as are the rest
nore, by compliance, dis-
nce. contrivance, deceit or honesty,
control the controllers as surely as
they control us.
Halmuth H. Schaefer, Ph.D.
Professor of Psychology
University of Auckland
Auckland, New Zealand.

It is remarkable how little the theories
and practice of behavioral psychiatry are
included in the teaching programs of
most psychiatric residencies. As one who
has sat across from patients w
week, trying to help them overcome fears
and inhibitions that were unyielding to
standard psychiatric techniques, I wel-
come anything that works, In the land of
the blind, the one-eyed is still ki

David Viscott, D.
Wellesley Hills, Ma

sachusetts

The behavior modifiers continually
justily their theories on the grounds that
the theories work. Efficacy is the standard
of any therapy. but the standards by
which this efficacy is measured must not
go unexamined. The use of a hydrogen

bomb is not justified merely because it
works. So. 100. must behavior modifica-

tion be guided by a more moral standard
than mere pragmatism.
Gary Harr

Dayton, Ohio

SMOKIN’ SI
For a beautifully unenlightened view
of your Joe Frazier interview
(riavmov, March) is hard to beat. "I
don't think sex does anything for уо;
body.” Frazier says. "It takes too much е
ergy ош of you, you need in
fightin’ i gy... . Youll желке
your mind, you'll weaken your lungs and
you'll weaken your heart, I imagine.”
Some doctors consider sex the best ex-
ercise of all. Whatever the medical con-
sensus, it's certainly
than boxing. PI guarantee
his mind and Jungs and hı

ALS

lot better for you

be
times than if he fi
50 times,
Glenn Dickey
San Francisco, Californi
Dickey is а sports columnist for the 8
Francisco Chronicle.

‘Thank you so much for your
with Frazier. He revealed himself to be
man who lives and lets live, who works
hard at his job. takes good care of his fam
у. stands hard and strong for his beliefs
and puts his message across without sense

Шу lost his crown,
but 1 feel he is one of sports’ ¢
champions. More impor
human being.

less noisc. Frazi

rece

catest
he's a. nice

Bob Willett

Middletown, Connecticut

nt attack оп
moral char-

1 object to Frazicr's flagra
Ali's religious beliefs and
acter. Neither aspect of Ali's personality
should have been part of Frazier's public
statements. No matter how much Ali at-
tacked F d and morals
were never held up to ridicule.

B. E. Mack
St. Paul. Minnesota

s

Your inter with heavyweight
chump Joe Frazier was about as out of
place as a Jewish delicatessen in Cairo.

Robert Lepore
East Orange, New Jersey

GOOD DEAL

aub Braun's March portrait of real
te magnate Walter Schneider, Le
Make a Deal, is excellent. Perhaps be-
cause Schneider (Queens College, 1912)
isa modest man, writer Braun never men

s

i

tioned that a generous fund, established

by Schneider ten years ago, has enabled

over 100 faculty members at Queens

College to secure emergency loans at

terest.

Joseph S. Murphy, President

Queens College of the City University
of New York

Flushing. New York

DIGGING THE DIGGER
George V. Higgins’ novel, The Digger's
Game (ruaynoy, January, February,
March), is one of the most perceptive
stories I've ever read. Higgins’ ear lor
dialog, his sense of underworld realism
and his craftsman| y
telling made reading about the Digger
and his doings a memorable expe:
Sal Cuccinello
Kansas City, Missou

€ approach to st

ence.

SWEET HOME

C. Robert Jennings reflections on
going back to his home town (Home?
Which Way Is That?, vivvuov, March)
make extraordinary reading. Journalism

е

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PLAYBOY

14

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of this stature has become aln
I hope Jennings will continue to a
us the gracious pleasure of his prose.
James J. Fitzpatrick, S.
Philadelphia, Pennsyl

Without a doubt, Jennings’ memoir
is one of the finest pieces of writing you
have ever put between your cov

Don R. Rol
West Palm Beach, Florida

I found my cousin's Home? Which
Way Is That? a poignant literary venture
that reveals much of the sadness, the glad-

the empty fullness of life as it was

I'm younger,
у ee with Bob's sen-
timents. Eufaula is nota Lad place, really.
It is a locale of stately visions and lovely
people. But it's little more to me than à
dated security blanket in which 1 person-
ally felt insecure, I spent 18 years there,
unable to relate to fables of glor
since I found nothing glorious in the
present. Only a kind of spi

Hollywood, California

The tragic futility of trying to make
biracial society work in the South is
sensitively delineated by Jennings. The

air of which he writes will soon
spread northward.
H. Lloyd

New Port Richey, Florida

пе verbosity about people who
love him, but I cannot endure his in-
sufferable sin of quoting an individual's
out of contest ic good
taste does not condone this, nor does
good breeding.

Jour

Lamar Osteen
Eufaula, Alabama

DARKEST AFRICA

Nadine Gordimer’s fascinating March
story, The Conservationist, was а rare
teat, It’s all too seldom that we get to see
t the real, everyday South Africa i
like. Her description of the countryside
and the Atri
md his Bantu hand made intr
read

log between the

Klaus Batchelder
Hudson, New York

FRONT LINES

Not long ago, I was lucky enough to
from Vietnam with everything in

act. One of the things that made my Viet-

nam tour endurable was seeing PLAYBOY

every month. Ir sure helped all of us for
get our problems—for a little while, any-
way. I thank you noL only for myself but
also for the thousands of other guys who
find a lot of pleasure in your magazii

Chicago, Hlinois

THE MAN WHO GOT AWAY
James Lincoln Collier's March account
of the fractured publishing history of his
book, in The Man Who Wrote My Novel.
rly enjoyable to me. I came
across his book Fires of Youth while at
tending college. Judging by the іше |
figured the book was probably just what

prisingly, it had much

sentiment and expression than wa
gested by title or cover. My edition also
contained a foreword about "a curious

isn

a postscript by Col-
Koestler

case of pl.
lier and а note about the Arthur
award. Thanks to Collier's а
now enjoy this novel aga
more satisfying light.

а new and

nL

Juli

Ottawa, Ontario

1 must say that The Man Who Wrote
My Novel is the funniest thing on lir
ary plagiarism I have read in years. Scores
of novelists must now be on their knees
praying to be plagiarized and for judges
like Arthur Koestler, J. В. Priestley and
myself to be bamboozled again. For our
тї. we have the extremely uncommon
solation of having been right, about
the book's worth. at least. ОГ course, we
niliar with the depravity of au-
d knew that many celebrated
books had been written in prison. In-
deed, one of our famous contemporaries,
John Collier—the talent of that family!
once wrote а story about а publisher

who sent all his
to keep them at their typewriters until
they had delivered their manuscri
during my evangelical stint as a judge of
the latest outpourings from British pr

Talent, in Lact. was null, while pla
rism or imitation was general. The poets
were the worst umber of pseudo:
Shakespearean Ir And
pong the prose w there was whole
g of the dim sentimental and
prayerful novels enjoyed by our gra
mothers. The prose was like lead. I also
ought to have remembered the school-
master who wrote across one of my own
сапу exercises: "Copied from Ruskin and
badly assimilated.”

the
jedi

sale looi

V. S. Pritchett
London, England
Pritchett is onc of Britain's most nota-
ble writers and critics, His latest book is
“Midnight Ой”
[y]

AIR CONDITION

YOUR FACE
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After Shave d

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Today we want people

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you can be a man ога
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make it in today's
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of chances to prove it. If you qualify, you've got
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otherreasons,

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PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS

ving propelled a nonword (Ms)
lube English 1 ¢ so las

that most people still cant pronounce it,
10-Ameri
im at English slan

‹ friends arc

now

гуа

vaking In a crowded
elevator
the following conversation between two
g (a
en's libe

First liberated lady

one afternoon, we overheard

s of wom

d attractive) parti

auon:
“I hear you took
that goodlooking new guy from the ac
yg department out to lunch."

“Yeah, Гуе got

counti
Second liberated lady

a real wide-on [or him.”

Bur can he play? Maryland's Prince
George's Post informs us that a musical
trio wowi

g "em at a local night spot fei

tures "Charlie Deck on piano, Winston
Киран on dri

ss. Stu. Barnes on bass.”
In Weert, Netherlands, the proprietor

of a Chinese-Indonesian restaurant called
Donglong is a Мг. Wang

Handwriting on the Wall Department,
ESP Brooklyn
t "Le

Division: Spoued in a

men's room was the thou alize

mental telepathy,” under which someone
d added, "1 kı

ew you were

ng to

An Oregon surgeon has successfully
moved а human kidney. repaired. it
The

was

and reimplanted it in the patem
significance of the breakthrough
somewhat obscured when the Salem
Capital Journal headlined ihe story
OREGON M.D. PUTS ORGAN OUT AND IN,"

Mies van der Rohe said it first
real-life

but
there's architect on the

€

kast

st named Les S. Moore.

Everything you wanted 10 know about
moth balls but were afraid 10 ask: The
current edition of Books in Print lists the

following four volumes from the prolific

(albeit specialized) pen of one F. N
Pierce—Genitalia of the Group Geomet-
ridae of the Lepidoptera of the British
Islands: Genitalia of the Group Toitric-
idae of the Lepidoptera of the British
Islands: Genitalia of the Tineid Families
of the Lepidoptera of the British Islands;
British Rhopalocera

and Genitalia of the
and the Larger Moths,

Unilateral withdrawal: The vice-presi-
dent of an Atlanta bank complained that
a police stakeout of his institution was
"disturbing employees and customers," so
the police Jefi. Five minutes Imer, the
bank was robbed.

Cruclest want ad of the month: The

o Tribune informed litera

y job

seckers of several openings for w
Basic salary, $40 per
d rips.” Applicants were asked to ар
ply at Wimpy Grills.

ers.

weck, plus very

А шапшасапег of industr
advertises his produa in the Baltimore
Purchaser as “the best screw in town."

South African
enough as ir
banned there
po М newspaper ad for a movie:
house іп Neweastle read
four to 116 years admitted."

censorship is
all.
without help Ir

tough

is—alter PLAYBOY із

ma ty

ipher

No persons

Does she or doesn't he? A head-tarnin:
want ad in the Dunellen, New Jersey,
Store News proclaimed: “Part-time fe-
male wants position."

The place to avoid when in Taiwan is
ay shop that calls itsell Madam
anty Sodom.

Lulu's

This notice appeared in the Fort Wal-
ton Beach, Florida, Playground Daily
News: “The regular meeting of the Fort
Walton. Beach Chapter, the National
Secretaries Association (International)
will be held Thursday at the Eglin

N.C.O. Club. ... All interested secretaries

must be made prior to ten A.M. Tuesday
Dissatisfied with the response to their

іші xo

PARKING signs, police in Ar
lington, Kentucky, have taken to erectin
new signs that read: nox^r EVEN THINK ot
PARKING HERE.

“CATTLEMEN,” enjoined the stern head.
line of an ad in the Napa, Calilornia
Register, “LEARN TO INSEMINATE
OWN Cows!"

YOUR

Though found guilty, a British burglar
asked for clemency on the grounds thi
he wasn't a professional criminal. When
the judge asked him for proof, the man
replied. “You see, milord. Fm deat as
а ром and cannot hear bui ms

He gor off with a year's probation and
a £s

fine.

c ruled

When a New York City jud;
that Deep Throat was obscene, the Syra.

сизе Post Standard supported the decision
enthusiastically (perhaps too much so)
in an editorial titled
DECENCY

7A GREAT BLOW FOR

A weather bulletin from the Corvallis.
Oregon, Gazette- Times: “Il you think this
has been a wet December, your member
is failing.”

To popularize the government's birth

control program, the family plannin
officer who enrolls the most recruits
in the heavily populated regions of cen
wal Java will be given a special title
King of the Condom.

Our Good Таче іп Advertising Award

this ad in
Daily Panta-

mortician who
Illinois.

goes to the

the Bloomington
graph: “Beck Me
death is one of the most important s
cial occasions in life, by providing
casion for socially conditioned

torial Home realizes

an oc
ief and

19

PLAYBOY

20

ig. Although funerals are cr
by death, they are regulated by soci
factors, because the problems of death
have broad social consequences.

In North Dakota, The Carson Press
published a story on builders’ risk insur-
ice under the headline: “PROTECT YOUR-

А barebreased woman driving an
convertible on the Hollywood

open
Freeway provoked a ten-car collision and
inspired the following newspaper head-
line: “в

hospital's new director "bm. perir ıs
NAMED CHERRY SUPERINTENDENT.”

ld Roman wis denied his
ause, according to the Italian
1. When

pension be
security office, he was di

the man appeared at the office ін person,
he was told he still couldu’t receive the
he secured a notarized alfi-

g that he was, in fact, alive.

The Los Angeles Times announced
imer ol a poll to find America’s
uous man was "local dick jockey

Advertising the film version of The
Andromeda Strain, The Times, ol Har-
bor Beach. told readers that
the science-fic venture concerned
m" that threatened

baby sitter in New Jer-

ant ad fo
scy's Саре May

middle-aged w
the hour; mostly

According to the Mesa, Arizona, Trib-
une, local police reported “two
accidental shootings in which the v
both received wounds of the left thing,

ses of

We've heard of filthy Iucre, but this is
ridiculous: A supplement in the Chicago
Sun-Times detailed an insurance. plan

guarantees prospective policyholders
ash."

From the New York Daily News, we
learn that “Rich Peutibon and Tommy
Mason will Kathy Rigby. pretty
Olympic gymnast, this coming Saturd

The inscrutable East: A Japanese press
release described a delegate to the U. S-
Japan t Iks as a man who “enjoys
reading, appreciates рай and col-
leas pot plants and liquors and drinks

well as

lover of dogs

Our Dean Martin Awa
male chauvinism goes tl
Canton, Ohio, Reposilor
profile of a Federal policewon
this headline: "No SOFT JOBS FOR SUSAN—
FEMALE FBI AGENT HANDLES ‘WHATEVER

COMES ur.’

d forsn

gering
is month to the

the
an News-

You're making a big mistake: I
fied pages of The Wauke:
Sun. right under the heading “toon /соор

less; no Jumps or straw.

Our porky friends make the new
month. Down in Hobart, Tasm: a
surprised motorist heard an oncoming
lady driver shout, “Pig! P
d by. He thought she was just another
raging women's libber, until he sur-
mounted a hilltop and struck—well. you
can guess what he struck. Meanwhile, at
Boston College Law School in a hypo-
thetical brief presented as a classroom ex.
ercise, students charged local police with
harassment of a specialty restaurant. The
restaurant. serving “exclusively porcine
was called ОЕ The Pig. In
homesick sow walked more
than 40 miles to return to the farm of the
man who had sold her the day befo:
And in Novato, California, police got
report that a pig was loose on San. Marin
Drive. An ofhcer was dispatched, but he
found no evidence of fourlegged life, Fi
nally he questioned a passer-by: "Have
you seen ound here?
si me the reply. “You
I've seen all

пу pi No,

the first one

BOOKS

Some years back, Contributing E
Jean Shepherd reported in these |
that the then-new edition of the vener-
able Boy Scout Handbook—a publication
that has guided boys through thic

ons with information on
as "How to
Matches”
ig Tea from Sassafras В.
moved into uncharted byways of
boyhood. That 1966 edition included, lor
example, a new merit badge in c
cations—to earn which an aspiri
scout was told, among other requin
ments, to write, produce and per
own 605ccond TV commercial and to
prepare a coherent memo detailing
structions to subordinates. Gone were the
days of birchbark canoes and sheepshank
knows.

The brand-new ed
Handbook, Shepherd writes, no less rele-
vantly reflects the life style titudes
of the Seventies. For the first time, it in-

ion of the Scout

cludes rats and silver fish in its wildlife
section, along with the more traditional
beavers, skunks, bears and woodchucks.
All that old stuff on how to paddle а ca-
noe, tie bowline knots and find the North
Star when you're lost in the woods has
disappeared—along, perhaps, with the
woods, And there are no sections, as there
used to be, on games: the new scout is
grimly project oriented. The Handbo
suggests that the troop spend its Saturday
afternoons engaged in ragweed control or
recycling trash. Without doubt, Shepherd
speculates, scenes such as the following
are bei yed out over the breakfast

cheese? Why cheese?
I'm goin’ after a merit badge.

pap: A cheese merit badge? What kind
of scout troop are you in?

scout: Me and Howie are goin’ after
the ratconirol merit badge. Wi
tch 12 rats in the basement as our pr
са for the big inner-city campar
gonn: t the!
shellac 'em.

вар: For God's sake, Stanley, I'm eat-
ing breakfast! Don't you guys ever go
hiking, stuff like that?

iking? What's that?

pap: Hiking. You know, taking a long
walk and messing around with trees and
building fires.

scour; Oh. that. We tried a hike once
Ш the way down Second Avenue—but
four kids got mugged. So we stick to
buses. And last week іш cockroach-patrol
meeting, we learned all about hai
much to tip a cabby

cars оп a board and.

moui

nd

із, how
all thar.
pan: Cockroach patrol? When T was
a kid, I was in the moose patrol. We had
a beaver patrol and
scour: Aw, Dad, that stuff went out
with Fats Domino. Look, I can't waste
ny more time rappin’. 1 gotta get that

cheese. Ivy gettin’ Lue and we've got
a community-relations project on this
afternoon.

DaD: Community relations?
scour: We turn out press releases. And

then there's recycling those Pepsi bottles

s your cheese money. Leave
me alon

No doubt this scene sounds Orwellian
10 anyone who has been out of touch
with the scout world for a few years, but
оор 206 in Queens, New York, does
have a cockroach patrol, complete with
the following patrol che

Teenyweeny small and black,
Mighty cockroaches will fight back!

Some things, fortunately, never change:
the boy-scout motto, “Be Prepared," still

Anatomy
ofa Gremlin

1. Gremlin is the only little economy 6. And more headroom in the trunk.
car with a standard 6-cylinder engine. And only American Motors makes this

2. Reaches turnpike speed easily. promise: The Buyer Protection Plan backs

3. Weighs more than other small cars. every 73 car we build. And we'll see that our
And its wheels are set wider apart. dealers back that promise.

4. Has a wider front seat.
5. A wider back seat.

AMERICAN MOTORS BUYER PROTECTION PLAN Ш Buckie up tor safety
я. А simple, strong guarantee, just 101 words!

When you buy a new 1973 car from an American Motors
dealer, American Motors Corporation guarantees to you that,
бедег A Марта Со a су алын of
any part it supplies that is defective in material or workman:
ship. This guarant od for 12 months from the date the
car is first used or

AMC VI Gremlin
We back them better because we build them better.

ONY. NO

Only Sony's Trinitron system has one gun
with one big lens for a better-focused, sharper picture.
And thats a fact.

What you see here, magnified inside the circle, is the single gun of a
Trinitron picture tube

One gun needs only one lens, so theres room for a big one.

Everyone else —even the new “in-line” tubes —must fit in three
lenses, so they have to be smaller.

Why is a big lens such a good thing?

А big lens has a correspondingly big
central portion. And the center is the
most distortion-free part.

So you get a better-focused,
sharper picture from Sony.

No baloney.

You also get a brighter picture.
That's because of something else
only Trinitron has—an Aperture
Grille

It lets the electron beams hit
the screen in unbroken stripes —not
in isolated dots, or ovals.

That way more electrons get to
the screen. And you get a brighter picture.
From Sony. No baloney.
How about reliability? Today, most color
TV manufacturers use all-solid-state for their more
expensive models.

Sony uses all-solid-state for all their models

If youre technically inclined, write for our 12-page Trinitron pamphlet.
Or simply stop in at any Sony dealer's.

Once youve seen our Trinitron picture, you'll know were not giving you
any baloney.

SONY.
TRINITRON

Write: Pamphlet Offer, Sony, 47-47 Van Dam St.. L.C.. NY. 11101. € 1973 Sony Corp. of America. TV picture simulated.

PLAYBOY

24

rings loud and clear. In the new Hand-
book, scouts cd never to leave
the house on some urgent community
project without taking along what i
calls "emergency change"—for use in
pay toilets.

Breakfast of Champions (Delacorte Press
Seymour Lawrence) is the title of Kurt
Vonnegut. Jr's new novel. The title |
nothing to do with Wheaties, H's the salu-
tation itress uses c time she de-
posits а martini before a customer in a
certain cocktail lounge. The waitress is a
minor character in the book: the rest of
the book is about how Kilgore Trout is
going to get to тесі Dwayne Hoover and
ve his right ring finger bitten off at the

j Dwayne Hoover is a Pontiac
bad chemicals.” He had a
ticide by eating
who has to fight
1 the time because he can't wag his tail
and he has a son who's a homosexual and
plays piano in the same cocktail lounge
where the waitres:

wife who committed
D

io and he has

of champions.

of science fiction

Dwayne Hoover. But Vonnegut, who has
used Kilgore ‘Trout as a character in

es him

other books, m: ppear at the
lounge to get rhe top part of his
g finger bitten off by you know
who. I's the big scene in the book. The
book actually has very few scenes at all.
It docs have some wonderful illustrations
by the author, though, and. many funny
observations about education, pollution,
football, fa punishment,
penis size, yoga. But readers who weren't
take Vonnegut's previous. books,
such as Cat's Cradle and Slaughterhouse-
Five, may find this on
because the author oversimplifies
ng and gets carried away with his
own cutesies. He writes too much like thi

with at's:

toying at times.

Peter Maas, who gave us The Valachi
Papers, has created an instant pop hero
in Serpico (Viking). the true but shame-
lessly romanticized story of an incorrupi
ble New York cop. The book is already
slated fi ent by Hollywood and it
à sure bet for television as well
nk Serpico is a producer's dream: а
cop who lives in Greenwich Village and
looks like a late hippie (‘hair
that brushes his shoulders and a full
а... leather sandals, a pullover shirt
se white linen with leg-ofmutton
who packs а sleek Browning
who is kind to his immigrant
parents whose hobbies are
gardening id who attract:
gorgeous women of all races and carnal
i And that's not the half of it.
M ever bothers to ex-
plore, Serpico, a low-grade plainclothes-
€ to “do something about a
owed corruption to flour-

treat

automati

He thus broke “an unwritten code
а cop could not turn in other
For a long time, Serpico was rel

Il establish-
as a hound's

no one in the police or city-
ments listened. We're "cle
tooth,” he was assured by an inspector
who supervised а particularly putrid po-
lice disria. When Serpico leaked his
story to The New York Times, even
Mayor Lindsay was compelled to take no-
пісе. Serpico became something of a he
to the public and a traitor to "his kind
АП this makes a fascinating story. but it’s
jarred by Maas's banal embellishments:
АП Frank Serpico ever wanted was to be
а good cop. Perhaps that was the trouble;
he had wanted to be one too much
In his first novel, Facing the Lions (V
king), New York Timesman Tom Wicker
limns a case history of a Senator fatally
flicted with virulent WI House
fever. Hunt Anderson is a Kefauverli
character with a Huey Longish father
from a Southern tobacco state. A tele-
«d investigation into the conditions of
migrant farm workers propels him то
national attention; а wife with long legs
spurs him toward the corridors of pow:
carly prim
tender at a party convention. But the
ict that he hasn't followed all the rules
and touched all the bases finally undoes
him. In a showdown scene, the conven-
gmaker, a boss in tinted shades,
him support simply because he's
"conventional pro." After that,
Anderson's life is one long swig downhill.
“Buc it was politics that r
whis culogizes a former aide. Wick-
er's own view of poli
say the least: not ev

vis

wins mark him as a con-

a the usual prag
ге offered. "Politics
al program," says the reporter-
arator, from whose point of view the
Anderson story evolves. "It takes you up
on the mountain. But politics won't wipe
а baby's ass.” Wicker casts his novel with
interesting minor characters—seedy old
Seni desses and
serewed-up Washington wives—but its
best parts are the insights he offers into
the sirange-bedfellow relationship among
reporters in the political field. Although
Wicker tends to get a bit garrulous and
out of his depth occasionally, Facing the
Lions is still a cut above the Drury-
Pearson-Knebel sort of potboiler that
old newspapermen send up for their
capital gai

ors screwing young stewa

Hunter Th n out
among politica ler of
the Hell's Angels, former candidate for
sheriff of Aspen on the Freak Power tick-
et, an earnest autodidact in ways of get
ting himsell spaced out by booze and
other means, Thompson doesn’t th

write, dress or act like an “objective re-

Fear and toathing: On the Campaign
t of

Trail 22 (Straight Arrow), his accou
our most recent jousting for the

generally, profanely and some-
times instructively absorbing. "Thompson
was ап unabashed McGovern supporter,
though aware carl vern
was unable to stir enough of his own
constituency, Iet alone the rest of the
electorate, to beat Nixon, What makes
Thompson's book, much of it originally
writen for Rolling Stone, come alivc—
even though he's writing about a corpse
of a ign—are his style and his
shrewdness of. judgme iore Wa
lace із one of the worst charla
politics, but there is no denying his talent
for converting frustration imo energy.”
The book is full of ex
dotes—an hourlong talk
with Nixon on the campaign trail
68: an interview with McGovern in a
men's room in New Hampshire four years
Inter on why Harold Hughes had de-
dared for Mus! nd accounts of
diverse eccentrics met. during the 1972
tourney, as well as acidulous sketches of

s most prominent figures. He
puts down Hubert Humphrey as "a sl
low, contemptible and hopelessly dishon-
est old Thompson himself isn’t
endlessly fascinating as he thinks he is,
amd there are long stretches of self-
description that congeal the action. But
he isa lively observer of others and, when
his head is together, a firstrate inter-
viewer. If he can stand another round,
Rolling Stone ought to send him out on
the wail again in 1976—but after this
book, he'd better figure out a good
disguise.

Thomas Berger's new novel, Regiment of
Women (Simon & Schuster), presents a
satiric view of a craven new world ruled
by women's lib. At the beginning of the
2 Ist er sex,
wearing skirts, affecting silicone boobs,
reduced to typing pools and cooking
chores, completely dominated by pushy
—and butchy—women who sheathe thei
‚ wear pants, smoke stopies,
men as "coozc" and take their pl
buggering them with dildos.
selves to please th
procreation is a matter for state
ries; and. vaginal intercourse is society's
biggest taboo. The penis is an instrument
of the past, a cause of man’s inferiority:
“Women would be just like men if they
had a penis and balls. Why don't men

п are the wea

“ет to

women;

borato-

play football? Because they might get hit
there, And the same gocs for boxing and
wrestling. Women might be smaller, but
they are invulni tures cruel

joke to make men the larger and stronger
sex and then give them this, which null
fies everything else.” The hero, or anti-
of Berger's sci-fi Charley's Aunt
ar Milquetoast secretary named

PLAYBOY

26

Georgie who gets arrested for trying on а
pair of pants while drunk. Georgie breaks

recru

out of jail, i ed by an unde
ground men’s lib organization and goes
off to the Sperm Service mp Kilmer,
determined. to хароши “milking
efforts by getting all the boys to mastu
hate. And so the plot churns on, spooling
everything from modern. psychiatry to
old-fashioned Army lile. until. Georgie
finds а woman who finally initiates his
to the lost joys of genuine fuck-
Unfortunately, all of Berger
ventiveness, his book is a reverse vari

penis
i for

a-
e S. Kaufman’s

» of

old joke—Geor
If Men Played Cards as Women Do.

Last year. after meetings wih
Huey P. Newton, psychologist Erik Erik
son reported that the cofounder of the
Black Panther Party—and last month's
Playboy Inieriew subjea—is ап un-
usually probing and resourceful young
man of much more complexity than has
been indicated iu accounts of his various
trials and prison terms, Or. for that mat-
ter, in most of Newton's fiery speeches.
Revolutionary Suicide (Harcourt Brace Jo-
vanovich), written by Newton with ihe
asisance of J. Herman Blake, justifies
Erikson’s encomium. A thoughtful auto-
biography, with much less rhetoric than
ne has come to expect. the book details
the evolution of a young black in Oakland,
California, who transcended his largely
wasted public school years and acquired,
through omnivorous reading and the sur-
vival dynamics of street life, the enormous
selfeonfidence that not only has made
him a national figure but also enabled
him to overcome a number of rough
prison stretches. He draws sharp profiles
ol such other буа

two

1 okely Са
amd George Jackson. Newton has litle
respect for the first two but great admira-

h the po-

g with
thers,
persuasive

all the other books about the P;
Revolutionary Suicide

isa

addition to the history of that besieged
organization. Newton is vague as 10 ex-
actly what his program is going to be

from this point on, but he emphasize
that the Panthers (Newton division. as
pposed to Cleaver) no longer consider
ward.
е "only the people can create the
n" Perhaps Newton will tell us
t his next book how that is to be donc.

' Marshall. McLuhan
s iy not recorded, but
if he does, he must hate him. Because De
Vries is onc writer whose stiff just won't
translate into visuals. In his latest revel,

Whether or n
reads Peter De У.

Forever Panting (Little, Brown), he contin-
ues to sprinkle his prose with outrageous
puns, mad metaphors and verbal nip-
ups (“the plenipenitentiary institution of
marriage"). But he's not just a word nut.
Once you buy his preposterous pre
and get to know his pleasantly i
characters, you're hooked—and you will-
igly follow as they careen from one
surd contretemps to the next. This
time we have Stew Smackentelt, a Broad-
way bit player, who lives in exurbia
with hi wife, Dolly, his moneyed
mother-in-law, Ci nd his id. whom
he calls Blodgett. Ginger isn't much older
than Stew (she's only a de facio mothe
‚ having raised Dolly from the age
s ıd while her malapropensity
pains him (she thinks sodomite із

youn, his

metal), her “ripe, handsomely hewn
body" eacites Blodgett, So first thing you

know finds hi Ji

Stew

1 bed w
ет. and second thing you know
hes married t0 her. Dolly blesses the
ch aud. promptly weds а ncighbori,
huckster who has promised to make her a
маг in TV commercials. Comes now the
De Vries combo of ingen
1d snippets of s:
trates the ensuing imbro

we're
th Stew

РЕ pou) in "De Vriesese. ТЕ
© ready for another of the man's
abductios ad absurdum (sorry about that,
Peter), read Forever Panting—and thumb
your nose at Мей

DINING-DRINKING

If the first zephyr of summer brit
thoughts of ueeshaded roads and pro-
vincial inns north, ye
out of Manhattan and into the rolling
hills of exurbia. And ger an carly start:
You'll want time to poke about in the
historic towns and antique shops that dot
the landscape before stoking up at some
country auberge. It makes for a full, satis-
hing day. especially if your ultimate
destination: is. Stonehenge

Connecticut. The a
white swans and mallards on a private
pond—but no dirt farmer ever built this

vial 19th C

Б

ir
ol has been

abode. А spr
dded and

able lodging
I you get the urge to stay on after
All this plus engaging. innova-
tive and, at times, exceptional fare. The
menu is eclectic—bedizened with deft
personal touches that tickle the imagi

tion as well as the taste buds. The ;
pacho may come with scoops of avocado,
ted fresh apple adorns the vichyssoise
ad a lacing of leeks transforms an ex-
cellent Quiche Lorr а superb
Vaudoise. One of the Stonehenge special.
ties, live brook trout, is usually offered
au blen. On а recent visit, our prelerence
lor а meunière treatment was accommo-

ne into

dated. without fanfare. The artfully fil
leted fish was sweer and tender, a triumph
of simplicity. Chef Rudi Hauser’s fine
Swiss hand is also evident in such items as
the Plat de Grison—smoked, mount:
cured Swiss beef and ham, served with
eornichons and pearl onions: Polage Gri-
son, a lusty barley soup studded with bits
of the same ham; fresh-fruit-oLthe season
soups: and the Plat du Jour, which is
usually a richly stuced veal dish with
perhaps morcls, trullles or native wild
mushrooms. Good vites rather than
flashiness seems to be the focus at Stonc-
heng and produce are fresh from
local growers, when available, and the
age in your Saltimbocca comes from a
nearby herb farm. Stonchenge's wine list,
whi i sufficient. Cóte de
Beaunes Villages is a modest 510 a boule
or $5.25 а half boule. For the adventu
there's a plea thy
Dezaley with a Swiss yodel in its bouquet
Stonchenge is open for lunch Tuesday
through Saturday from noon to 2:30 е.м.
Dinner is from 5:30 ғ.м. to 9 ем. week-
days: 10 row. Saturday. Sunday hours
c from noon to 7:30 rat. Reservations:
386511.

Just a trutlle's throw from Stonchenge,
Pound Ridge, New York, is one of
authentic Colonial im
don't reveal whether
ton slept there, but h
could have. Emily Shaw's Inn is а building
that dates back to 1777. and you should
look so good at that age. The pl
is drenched with charm. Heavy ceiling
beams show ax The walls are
alternately wood paneled, rough plank
and ston g with Early Ameri-
can houschold artifacts. Most interesting
of the ing rooms is the
downst p Room, with its
stone floor, timbered ceiling, venerable
wooden bar and cavernous fireplace. The
best dishes on the menu are the house
specialties, which are starred on the bill of
fare. Shaw's Famous Cheddar
Soup is one of the besi—derived, accord-
ng to Mis. Shaw, from a Welsh-vabbit
recipe. If you'd rather have a cold soup.
there are such offbeat items as cucumb
nd watercress, in addition to the stand-
ard vichyssoise. Crab meat is handled in-
gently, cold im a salid or im С
Meat Dewey—chunks of tender meat in

lc not extensive,

ons,

antly е golde

ities

those

books

(сезе

a whitewine cream sauce that doc:
overpower the delicate seafood. Aged
Prime Ribs of Beef are done to a turn in

rock salt and cut thin, English style, or
in one generous slab. And the Special
London Broil is unfailingly tender, cut
from the end of the fillet. Although its
1. ihe house salad dressing is dull.
Consider опе of the options, such
the roquefort. What с
Lindy'sstyle cheesecake suffers from ex-
cessive chilling. Instead, try one of tl

starr

ild be very good

"TT"
wie) ua

That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health.

= ¬

Two things America has learned in the past 5 years:
“Black is Beautiful? and...

“Don’t give up the ship!”

PLAYBOY

28

decp-dish. pies served warm іп minicas-
Shaw's wine selection would do
© hostelry: Lafites and
n-Rothschilds lie beside Grands

x and La Táches. Evenings
candlelit and the Jerry Aiello Trio plays
on Friday and Saturday nights. Shaw's is
open for lunch. Tuesday through Satur-
day from noon to 2:30 р.м. Dinner is
from 6 P.M. to 9:30 р.м through
Thursday; Friday and y
т.м. Sunday hours are from 1 Fr. to
8:30 P. v. Reservations: 914.7615

Minutes away from Shaw's, in an Е
Dutch Colonial clapboard, you'll find
Talian alternative, Nino's. I's just outside
the picture-book town of Bedford Vill:
Time it right and there'll be a village fa
oing on, with baked delic:
thy locals. Nino's
you'd
its own

by cooks of the we
рама dishes are exceptional, a
expect of a place that boa
pasta-making macchina. If you don't
think fresh noodles make a difference,
try the Green Noodles al Prosciutto or
the Fettuccine Nino—an Alfredo sauce
with egg yolk added. Other favorites in-
clude the Scampi—either gar
nese—sweetbreads braised in
with truflles, soft
and prime м
aging in windowed refrigerators outside
andah Room). The softly fi

marsala
bs amandine
s (which you cam see

the Ve main
g room Hanks the Verandah. The
Alagstone-floored Bar Americano: pours

everything Пот Campari to cognac.
Ninos is open for lunch from noon
to 2:30 р.м. weekdays (closed. Tuesday);
dinner is from 6 р.м. to 9:30 rw; 10:30
рм. Friday and . Sunday hours
are from 1 рм. to 9:30 км. Re
tions: 914-234-3374,

You мөні find the word beausejour
ndard French dic ics. ls an
that the proprietor-maitre de of
Beausejour, Fernand Jaouen, translates as
‘enjoy ... have a good time"—and it's
hard not to at this q rench Provin-
cial inn perched on a rocky outcropping
near Brewster, New York. The place is
breath-taking in summer, half-hidden be-
ind a grove of trees, rows of tulips,
rhododendron bushes and wild flower:

Windows in the high-ceilinged main
dining room look out on Sodom (believe

i) Reservoi

(Le Pavillon) and Roger Chauveron (Le
Chambord). Among the specialties а
gc flamed with triple
la Creme, Beef Borde-
sant and.
aques, which is not extend-
d

Coquille $
ed with heavy sprinklings of bre
crumbs. The Соци
luncheon and an appetizer
Shrimp Cocktail, Smoked S;
Escargots also appear as dinne

le is a main dish at
at dinner.
mon

nd
ppetiz-

ers, without the annoying parenthetical
extra charge, Beausejour is open for
lunch noon to 2:30 р.м. Tuesday through
aturday: dinner Tuesday through Th
day from 6 о.м. to 9:30 в.м.; Frida 10:30
уто 11 р.м. and Sunday from
to 8:30 т.м. Closed on Monday
Reservations: 914-279-2873
Figure on about an hour from the city
line to reach these country places, and
the scenic drive up is an extra dividend,
Explicit directions should be obtained
from the inn when making reservat
which essential. АП take major
credit cards.

are

MOVIES

n factory most 4с-
n't what it used to be. For the
sensibilities of the Sevent the
k. To cite one

obvious example, tradition
patriotism is as obsolete rman
n exhausted by a shameful
Nor do they turn out showbiz sagas
about a Macy's salessirl who dances her
way to fame on Broadway. They don't
even turn out another All About E:
cuse audiences suspect there's something
closer to truth in such films as Heat and
Payday, which depict lesser showbiz dei-
Чез as ego-driven neurotics with hang-
ups about sex, liquor and boxoffice
receipts.

To support Ше trend of recent years,
is a new kind of movie
that plays iconoclastic hell with works of
every genre. Horror films, of course, have
become high camp—with Vincent Price
as Dr. Phibes and numerous bush-le;
monsters mocking the fact that Franken-
stein and Dracula were once taken seri-
ously. Remember those sentimental film
biographies of winners such as Lou Gch-
rig and Варе Ruth, or maybe of a boy
b who would rather
play the violin? Today films about the
world of sport tend to concentrate on the
loser psychology: John Huston's Fat City:

«dow

th

with a good left j

Kansas City Bomber: and no fewer than
year about aging rodeo
on the skids. from J. W. Coop to

Junior Bonner. With the undistinguished
exception of Young Winston—a movie
made to achieve instant antiquity—his-
torical figures a
film in a pretty harsh light (ед. Lady
Caroline Lamb, Savage Messiah's lero-
cious portrait o an artist and Lady Han-
ihon as a vulgar strumpet in The Nelson
Affair, reviewed on page 30). The rever-
sals effected in film treatments ol cops and
robbers and cowboys and Indians—with
brutal or racist lawmen and exploitative
whites most likely to play the I
аге so common today that any mov
can cite hi
go into moun
cynical days, w

көсе
own examples. But before we

for the good old un-
might consider that what

intensi
arch for truth and greater maturity
in films, and this is to be applauded

Among American directors who have
ус! to achieve international superstar
Status, one of the more venturesome is

Robert Altman. A man incurably com-
mitted to challenging convention, he
scored a huge popular success with

M*A*S*H when he used the form of
Service comedy to sneak in some pointed
comments about the grim and gory re:
ity behind the customary barracks humor
In McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Altman in
vited initial ion by fooling around
with naturalistic fuzziness on the sound
track, then proceeded to describe one of
the heroes of frontier America as
ardly profiteer in league with a whore-
house madam, Back in the same groove
after a couple of stylish experiments
(Brewster McCloud and Images), Aliman
has now delivered what may be the uli-
mare genre рибом
In The Long Goodbye, h:
Chandler's novel, writer-director Alum:
performs drastic surgery on a private-cye
tiller, observing no rules but his
own. What he has done is to use Chan-
«Шегу celebrated detective hero, Philip
Marlowe, as а straw man whose entire
system of values comes slowly unglued
when he digs into a case involving a
missing friend, some missing money and
a famous writer’s blonde wife. Dick Pow-
ell, George Montgomery, James

ed on Raymond
"

Jarne

Robert Montgomery and Humphrey
Bogart have each played Marlowe
earlier adaptations of Chandi

which the best by far was Bogart's The
Big Sleep). but theres been nothing
quite like the Marlowe portrayed by
Elliott Gould—as a ineffectual
creep whose car. clothes and general de-
meanor suggest that he is still living back
in the Forties. He is far from the type re-
cently resuscitated with moderate success
by Burt Reynolds in Shamus. Gould

Marlowe shuffles through the world of
1973 looking inept and befuddled, bc-
cause nothing works for him anymore
He's just a semitough guy with a heart of
gold who naively believes all the clichés

about friendship, loyalty, honor among
thieves. He cannot relate to the new
morality and scarcely glances at a bevy

of almost gh-
k them to feed
s away. "If I was your
advises. "I think Ud bust
dignified
himself be-

my ass to ge
line of end

trayed in the end, Marlowe murders his
best f

ad and goes waltzing down a
je the sound track explodes
to the Mickey Moi ius of Hooray
s nosc-
thumbing goodbye to а tradition he

Built to be seen. Not heard.

Take a good look at the new Satellite Sebring-Plus.
We've restyled it to give it a look we think a lot of And things like floor silencers and roof pads
people are going to like. to keep the street noises outside the car.

It all means that the Sebring-Plus will be a quieter

But thal’s only the beginning. Here's the inside story. Е
car than ever before. "Super-Quiel" we call it.

You know all those irritating little
Noises your car makes when you drive
down the highway? Like windwhistle.
Tire noise. Traffic sounds.

If Satellite sounds like your kind of
car, stop at your Chrysler-Plymouth
dealer's, Take a good look al our new
Satellite.

Well, we've built a car to quiet those
noises. This transparent car has colored
ateas showing where we placed sound
silencers in the new Sebring-Plus. We've
added special door and window seals,
for example

| Drive it, listen to the quiet, experience

Я the new ride and the way it handles.
Then decide. We don't think there's a
better choice in a mid-size car.

Mid-size Plymouth Satellite Ost

Extra care in engineering... .il makes a difference.

PLAYBOY

30

Hitachi's "strong" warranty.

It's evenly balanced
between the big
and the little.

Hitachi doesn’t play favorites. We give our smallest
radio the same strong labor warranty as our big 21-inch
color TV.

It's strong because every Hitachi is 100% Solid-State
all-transistor (excluding picture tube). There’s more
quality in each and every product.

That's why on all COLOR and BLACK/WHITE TV's. we
give a warranty of 5 years on transistors, 2 years on picture
tubes and other parts (accessories not included) and 1 year
free carry-in labor. (On 21" sets i year free in-home labor).

On radios and even on tape recorders, 5 years on tran-
sistors,1 year on other parts (accessories not included), 1
year free carry-in labor. And Hitachi has authorized service
throughout the country.

Hitachi. We're out to win you over with our “strength”.
For more information write, Hitachi Sales Corp. of America,
Dept.P-5, 48-50 34th Street, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101

Quality always comes lirst at

HITACHI

—in concert with cinematograpl
iso challenges movie-

Zsigmond—a

for Altn
ector who

—and not the least of

his de

house. W
explo
debut for N

al class.

Hamilton as а Пато
tart in Hal B. Wallis

ion to cast singer М
ndi (the other woma
ing case) as the blonde in the big beach
may have st.
n turns out to be а pow screen
whose lightly weathered

ire exactly
dier himself might have or-
There are blondes and blondes,”
words of the master, but hi

nger. Не

van P:

"so

to be acting off the top of his head)
175 sense of d

isks a lot, but often wins

ables was

is

the Clifford

ed as sheer

ne

The Nelson Affair,

which marks quite a departure [rom That

Hamilton Woman of several dec;

played by Vivien

ling. Both may be equally
truth about the соттопе

Leigh

poiled 4
r from t
daw

les ago,

irr-
he

hte

who became the mistress of Admiral Lord

admiral's statel

"s portrait of a
i havoc in and
home i

ound t
a showstopp:

unchy gut-

he
cr.

Whether. Nelson. would have tolerated

her tantrums for fiv

question. Given

Terence Кай ап London stage success

A Bequest to the Nation,
forceful perlormance by Peter Finch
Nelson, the movie mana

theater if nor firs
sons never n
sodes loo

ach, Jackson. М

thony Quayle. Mich

talented grownup:
Trafalgar are so
better
little against the

brook waged by

swallow wh
rich old-fash:

The way two
from the ladies 1

i everythi
1 home in

brate

п) as Nelson's nephew, who d
s after a while, leaving the screen to
, An-
iyston and other

cinema. For r

ous alfa

E L6

through

the opening epi-

air

ap-

The battle scenes at

е been omitted:

draw

Miss
пава king and Parl
g she's got to keep

groom Doi

bed where

favor.

sed girls emerge

der the lustii

glish hi

iddled they шіріп
hey count for

he
is-
to

lish actors pour on that

Whatever You Do... Do It With "Brio"

ROMAN BRIO 2

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You dont have ive like one.

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PLAYBOY

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White, a sensitive drama by writer-
ctor William Fruet. Made in Canada
lent and placed in a
ng World
edy describes

n town dur

lessly by ле, who has the face of
wan Renaissance Madonna) is all but
destroyed by male vanity and machismo.
st raped by а GI buddy who comes
home on leave with her brother, she is
branded a whore by her callous dad
(Donald Pleasence), the kind of brute
whose code of honor—forged during serv-
ice on the local bowling team—decrees
that a man in uniform can do no wrong
and that decent girls know enough to
keep their legs crossed. To save his own
pride when he learns that poor Jeannie is
pregnant, her father ultimately barters
her oll in a marriage of convenience to an
old drinking buddy several times her age.
Fine acting throughout, plus beautifully
recorded det of life in the lower work-
i class, makes Wedding in White touch-
s well as true.

Hollywood star frequently ap-
peared topless а told “You're too
beautiful to be any good," cl
were that the object of such atten

was a sex symbol of the feminine ge
Not nowadays. Not with pretty-boy Ryan
O'Neal, as The Thief Who Come to Di mer,
coaxing compliments from Jacque
Bisset, as his accomplice in crime,

and
from Jill Clayburgh, as his ex-wife, who

believes she's been cheated of a good
thing. Playing a cat burg
to he the only honest man in
thieves—presumably because he grabs
jewelry from wealthy snobs in Houston,
who deserve to be robbed blind. On that
questionable moral premise, produc
director Bud Yorkin and scenarist Wal-
Hill construct 4 cardboard comedy
i high gloss but n ble
kle. Despite Thicf's emphasi
the real atte
getier of the piece turns out to be plain,
reliable Warren Oates as an insurance ii
vestigator who sticks to his dogged cony
only skin-deep. He
at the movies.

Ryan claims
world of

tion

If Love Story could hit the jackpot
tale of true devotion and untimely
then A Warm December may хапа а
ng ch his second outing as
a director, Sidney Poitier seems to lı
n throngh a lit of rele
themes and found sickle-cell

e

travels to London for a vacation with his

young daughter (Yvette Curtis,
ing tyke) and те igmatic beau

ty (introdu born Esther
Anderson) a ge of an
African diplom; ЕСЕ

as played by gorgeous Miss An-

derson, is brave. chic. witty, patriotic.
passionate—and doomed. "Let's run a
sickle-cell prep. . .. It may not be fatal,”
suggests one of Poitiers medical col-
leagues, But somehow you know that all
these two beautiful people can do is
make every minute of the time remaining
count. An idyllic weekend in the country.
Bittersweet music. A night of love—the
discreet and civilized kind u
takes the press out of Sidney's pajama

And then farewell. Strangely enough,
most of it works on the s level
intended. If you have te:
shed them, If you have Чон
the thought that Poiticr is just keeping in
practice for better films to come.

Hunter's immensely
ake of Lost Horizon is
fault in following the origi
nal movie version of the James Hilton
potboiler, made in 1937 by Frank Capr.
starring Roi as the writer
finding his
(again) pi
but director €
amd the text seems
for the addition of song cues. And there's
the rub. The musical score by Burt Bacha
rach nulates Rodgers
r most sac
ine period, replete with simple-mind
ed pacans to love, family, virtue and
being true to oneself. The air of simple
goodness gets pretty thick for Liv Ull-
man Michael York, Sally Kellerm:
George Kennedy, Olivia Hussey (of Ro-
тео and Juliet), John Gielgud (likable
but laughable as Chang, aide to Charles
Воуег High Lama) and Bobby Van.
Recruited from Broadway's No, Хо, Na-
nelte, Van teaches the kiddies of Shangri-
La everything they ever wanted to know
about tap dancing. There’s also a dancing
chorus, picking up the beat of something
that might as well be called Shangri-rock.
The one person who appears to undo
stand the nature of the enterprise is
loose, leggy Miss Kellerman, who sings
and dances with casual aplomb and ob-
viously knows that the new Lost Horizon
is merely a high-camp compendium of all
the Hollywood clichés ever visited upon
an unsuspecting public, with or without
the mus

Ross

The wordiness and deliberate pace of
Ludwig make this opulent biography a
test of loyalty for admirers of Italian di-
rector Luchino Visconti (Rocco and His
Brothers and The Damned). Helmut
Berger plays the handsome homosexual
monarch, who drowned mysteriously in

PLAYBOY

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1886 at the age of 40 and is known as

i builder of sev-
eral fairy-tale castles that left his tre:
virtually bankrupt but have lon,
paid off their costs as tourist a
Like most Visconti films, Ludwig is a
treat for the n exquisite reproduc
tion of a time, place and mode of life
Europe's decadent crowned h
шщ on many locations in Ba
adds verisimilitude, though the movie as
a whole looks as if it had been edited
under emergency conditions. At times, in
fact, it becomes difficult to follow Lud-
vig's thorny path from his coronation at
19 through his sponsorship of the career
of composer Richard Waguer (played by
Trevor Howard, of all. people) to the lat-
ter days of his reign, when he was locked
away as а mental incompetent after in
discreet flings with actors, soldiers

ads,

d
stableboys. Romy Schneider as Ludwig's
friend Elizabeth 1 of Austria, $
Mangano as the mistress and wife of W
ner and lovely newcomer Sonia Petrova
as the Russian princess Ludwig nearly
marries add their feminine touch to the
most expensive homosexual spectacular
ever filmed. Though a magnetic actor,
young Berger still lacks the depth and va-
riety to carry the dramatic weight his role
requires. Here he appears to be just one
of the gaudier objects on display in a red-
plush charade that Visconti has put
together as df for his private a
t without any p.
imo Ludwig's passio
self-destruction.

ruse-
m

ticular insight

ite urge toward

Viewers of a certain age are apt to
become slightly depressed when they see
television comedy of the early Fifties
joining those periodic revivals of Cha
lin and Keaton classics, Any such 1.
should be quickly dispelled by the gi
eral m

hi of Ten from Your Show of Shows,
pilition of highlights from the
iemorable weekly TV series in which Sid
Caesar, Imogene Coca, Carl. Reiner and
Howard Morris created а stock company
ol superlative clowns. Caesar, in particu-
Таг. showed the brand of mimic genius
that would undoubtedly have placed him
"ong the immortals if he had been
round dui he so-called golden era of
silent movies. On the insat
where overexposure m
former in his prime to а
ss, Caesar's talents were recklessly
squandered—and even a stable of writers
boasting such potentially big names as
Neil Simon and Mel Brooks failed to
provide him with a consistent flow of
carefully wrought comedy sketches. The
nukes-waste hack work of a TV
series bent on bei

со

ble tube,

reduce a per

season or two of

topical is often visi-
of Shows, yet
a't spoil anyone's enjoyment of €
sar as an innocent jerk caught between

ble in Ten from Your Sh

it ca

Version |

E

The Mens Lib Watc
e Men's Lib h
Is your wristwatch a time chauvinist? Does it demand
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PLAYBOY

all the principal players in a riotous
Swissclock routine directly borrowed.
from Chaplin. "Though scarcely equal to
the big screen's unchallenged classics,
the best of Show of Shows offers more
laughs per minute than any funny busi-
ness topping todays popularity polls in
any medium.

MUSIC

What's it like being president of Co-
Jumbia Records and getting hooted at by
6000 people? Ask Clive Davis, who em-
ceed a sold-out midnight concert titled
Keyboard Colossus io City Music
Hall on. March second. Although Walter

Here’s all you need to know Carlos, of Swttched-on Bach and Moog
about sherry and port. fame, couldn't make it, organist E. Power

ii Ы П Newnma
Harveys Tic. ANON ЫҢ Eae RI Ene]: psichordist Anthony Newman
Harveys Amontillado. A medium-dry, full-bodied aperitif sherry. ind the ten-piano Monste
Harveys Shooting SEEN Попа occasianl sherry. Slightly Concert group could, and did, and were
‘sweeter than Amontillado. vell received. ы ۴ ТЕР A
гуз Gold Сар Port. A rich and fruity after-dinner delight. Re aod шөге DIE

dent Davis is known for his fa
to pop performers and his revitalization
еу & Sons, Ltd. Wine Merchants since 1796, of Columbia's classical div . Unfortu-
ely, he felt impelled to crow
ultural enrichment” and “the very spe-
al purpose” of the concert, “to bring

classical music to the masses.”

Canoe Royale. 14% Whe ier apps ie көн ш
New extra-rich 4 I гу,
cologne.

was

н Biggs appe

performance of Badis Тоссайа and.
Fugue in D Minor accompanied Joshua
White's lighting elfects, the spectacle of

clouds of smoke jetting up Irom the stage
and the sound of great sucking fans to
whisk it

Sull great
the morning
after.

tage machin-
also a monu-

The hall

ment to artdeco aaziness. Looking up

n the orchestra seats at the all's

curved and fluted vastness, you imagine

1 ( iside ilie gold nose coi

RI 2 “ Thirties spaceship. It could be the

Ae ) est rack тооп їй die world,

| T 2 who has played on many of the

world’s great organs, was clearly unhappy
with the Music Hall's 7

But later ou

into more rhe

wi

some р
oration of

witty Variations on "

` The best music of the evening was pro-
5850. ез > Qh р vided by Newman and his dazzling
аг mens chamber ensemble. They tore into Bach's
Fifth Brandenburg Concerto with typical

fragrance
Dars. - Newman gusto and tempo: the perform-

РА 2 Ж 6 ance, beginning a shade stiflly, grew in

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PLAYBOY

38

Brylcreem tells you how to

Shorter hair in summer. Longer hair in winter. Think about it for a minute. You
change clothes with the seasons. Why don't you change your hair style too?

SUMMER HAIR

Face it: long hair looks terrible in the summer. The sun dries it out. The sand sticks
init. The surf pollutes it. Then you shampoo it almost daily. And you wonder why your
hair looks like straw.

Shorter hair makes more sense for summer. But don't worry, меге not suggesting
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shirt. You comb it forward, or part it on the side, in the middle—even toss it around
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reasonable? Use a little Brylcreem Hairdressing after each shampoo. It will help put
back the moisture the sun, the sand, the surf and the shampoo take out.

Conditioned with Brylcreem, your hair will be manageable and healthy-looking.
And great looking hair can do great things for anyones summer.

WINTER HAIR
Why should you wear your hair longer in winter? Well, for starters, when you wear
more clothes you should have more hair. Nothing looks stranger than a lot of clothes
anda little hair.
And where do you spend most of winter? Indoors. So youre in greater control of
your hair. And how it looks. Youre not messing with the elements as much, so they're
not messing with your hair as much.

change with the seasons.

Even longer hair looks different today. It's layered now. For more fullness. And for
much more style.

But now that its winter, you've got two new problems. Constant temperature changes
(from cold outside to drying steam heat inside) wreak havoc on your hair and scalp.
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anda very natural look.

Brylcreem thinks that if your hair looks
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youll find a product in
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PLAYBOY

4n

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сазе and competence, and the crowd
loved it. Besides the leader's dexterous
work at the harpsichord, subtly amplified
for balance, Miss Ani Kavafian as solo vio.
linist acquitted herself especially well
Columbia says that Newman plans to do
much recording in the near future, in-
duding in his next album or two "some
rock." That, from a musician of his capa-
bilities, ought to be worth hearing.

When Eugene List and his ten Stein-
ways арр
staged but musically thin program, it was
а letdown. From Scott Joplin's Maple
Leaf Rag through Rossini's William Tell
Overture, the visual spectacle of 20 hands
banging away couldn't make up for the
lack of style, nuance and togetherness i
the music. These same flaws character-
ized the finale, in which everyone—Biggs.
Newman and the “Monsters’—took part.
There was another ambiguous gesture
to the Шаш Sousas Stars and Stripes
Forever employed moving stage plar-
forms, flashing lights, stars, mir-
rors: X*T*R* ASUSA*G*A*NeZ*A!
It was followed by Bach's Jesu, Joy oj
Man's Desiring as an encore

On balance, then, the mixing of Bach
and a lot of lightweight program music
didn't really come off. Whit did was
a kind of 19th Century musical. exhibi
tionism and a welcome antidote to the
stufliness of most classical concerts. No
mauer what Clive Davis had t0 say
suspect his motives in producing the
allair were purely pauiotic. Instead of
Keyboard. Colossus. it should have been
called C.
tion. Anyu

ont an artfully

wd to pre

lumbia's New Gem of Promo
it was fun.

RECORDINGS

The Mahavishnu Orchestra invariably
knocks people out or gives them colonic
spasms. For those in the latter category
homeopathic treatment is the only onc
indicated, so start Birds of Fire (Colum.
bia) on ihe second side and open your
cars to. Billy Cobham's masterful dı
ming and Rick Laird’s bass in a jazzish
One Word. which proceeds to display
John McLaughlin and Jerry Good:
trading guitar and violin figures with
great skill. The mood deepens with Sanc
tuary, lightens lor Open Country Joy
and resolves (naturally enough) with
Resolution. Now, if you can get out of
your chair, flip the disc over for the title
piece, an ambitious demonstration of
chaos and order, with Jerry's violin and
jan Hammer's Moog rifling and rum.
bling im unison behind McLaughlin's
Miles Beyond evokes the
latter-day Miles Davis spirit a
Miles |
superb McLaughlin
does Celestial Terrestrial

excursions.

ost bet

mself does and features

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CANADA DRY,with BACARDI, rum.

PLAYBOY

42

whose rapid runs go off like solar Mares.
The beautiful Thousand Island Park,

Forget the gimmicks and gadgets. with piano and acoustic guitar leading, i
The Rollei SL35 lets you the album’s contemplative peak. Because

its complex music is quite beyond cate
concentrate on the shot. gorizing, Mahavishnu takes some getting

used o. Purge yourself of preconceptions,
and drink in your tonic.

Time stands still (well. almost) for On
Stage with Benny Goodman and His Sextet
(London), a twin LP recorded "live" in
Copenhagen. There are probably 15 years
hetween the single “comtemporary” tune,
Too Close for Comfort, and any of the
other 23 vintage melodies. Among the
members of Goodman's latest sextet
guitarist Bucky Pizzarelli (who is wasted)
and tenor m

n Zoot Sims (who is not).
ly. is still. Clarion,
and it's a treat to hear his cla
the sextet context once

Benny's tone

mazi

Rollei design and ingenuity have eliminated the burdensome features
while retaining all the essentiels: the focal plene shutter with its broad
range of speeds, the bayonet mount for instant lens interchangeability, EU 1 bac: ir
through-the-lens light measurement for accurate exposures, and the н апа pe
built-in X and FP synch for electronic and conventional flash. Mexico with vou." So, we presume,

You get the advantages of an SLR system camera: rapid, eye-level, Rita Coolidge to Kris Kristolferson.
exact focusing and composing in the brilliant viewfinder, a broad range off they went with Bob Dylan to m
of lenses and Rollei accessories for specialized photographic needs. Billy the Kid lor Sam Peckinpah. Before
For more information, write Rollei of America, Inc., Dept. B-6, 100 Lehigh thal, Rita appeared on Kriss recent
Drive, Feirfield, N.J. 07006. album and he reciprocated on The Lady's

в Not for Sole (АКМ), а nice piece of work
О el all around. with an allstar cast backing
the lady in mostly low-key county. ba

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lads of loving. losing
would sit er, which is a
ay Peggy Lee's version, Spooner Oldham's
A Woman Left Lonely, and Inside of Me

CT-4141 with Dolby. the best on the album, which builds to a
Whether you're taping for kicks АНЫ ALLE hee
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never lets you forget her Southern, down
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ИЙ can ba done on tapa, Pioneer's controls .. . dual level metars . .. М
СТ-4141 cassette deck has mora digital tape counter. Only $269.95 at With a ned to the movie famasics of
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tm ER ENS pose after another, cooling out, sati

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le out

Frangois Truffaut, Ehon John comcs on

rising ov cateriug to the fantasies of his
псе. He's alternately ihe
эрине! Filios cornball. (Crocodile

a boy carrying

musical audi
1

the torch for his
(Teacher I Need You). teenage
idol manqué. ved

teach

ck. and so on. Its
а delightful series of musical portraits
in no small measur
Vaupin's lyrics, which have lost their
pretentiousness and gained in expressive
power. The band backs superbly. while
Elton's singing and playin,
Deen beter

owing то Bernice

have never

Alter all the brouhaha over tast Tango

in Poris has died down. audiences arc
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1 score. It should. havel
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PLAYBOY

44

Guardian Angel
for your travel funds

COOKS

Travel Cheques

I you're planning a trip, take along
COOKS Travel Cheques, tne guardian
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makes a prompt refund.
In denominations of $10, $20, $50,
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the score
trimmers

Improve your game with either of
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the original mallet head or the
new, left - and - right-handed blade-
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responsible for it and the sound track is
supplied by B: and his sidemen
(who, unfortunately, remain liner un-
noted). Barbieri’s tough-edged sas is of

ten in the fore, leading the rest of the
musicians through a series of tone poems

that stand by themselves. It’s a United
Artists album and. well worth the price
ol admission

We've been hearing a spate of Glenn
Gould's recordings lately, but none as in-
teresting as Glenn Gould's First Recordings of
Grieg ond Biret (Columbia). his most arch
and facetious gesture to the concert
world since the piano recording of Bee-
thoven’s Fifth. That set induded a
conversation disc called Concert. Drop-
ош: and similarly here, Mr. С. provides
liner notes that are, first, a quirky and
brilliant history of chromaticism (which
will appeal only to the musicologically
hip) and. second, A Confidential. Caw
lion to Critics, wherein he offers ready-
made blurbs, pro amd con, for the
performances and advises caution in our
nent, since Edvard Grieg turns out
remote Gould ancestor.
More to the point: The Grieg E Minor
Sonata, rarely heard, is a moody piece of
19th Century turbulence: the two Bizet
works, not even in the Schwann Catalog.
are bis Varia-
ld per-
Not bad
us, never

particularly the
lions Chromaliques, which Go
lorms with clarity and vigor.
lor a n he tells
attends recitals.

an who, ах

Lest PLAYBOY be accused of sell
serving promotion, we will hasten to say
that Sharon Cash has her faults. But she
also may become the most exciting soul
singer since Aretha, as her Playboy Rec
ords Sharon Cash, den
The young lady doesn
best tunes for her showboating style and
her range of pitch and. dynamics some-
times limits her. However, she has excel
lent backings and arrangements. and in
the best tunes her voice virtually jumps
out at you, as in Chains on Your Soul.
۷ few besides Aretha c.
during
besides Areth:
s does.

debut ates,

эим

Iways pick the

The friends of Chicago troubadour Bill
Quateman have been confidently waiting
exposure that will make
маг. Well, Bll Quatemon
(Columbia), a wellerched sampling of

1 songs (he accom
panies cll on piano and guitar)
probably won't put him over the top—
though it will carry hi
My Music gets things started with a ni
uptempo groove and good vocal work:
Keep Dreaming is a rock ballad that
achieves a lyrical angularity: Only the
Bears Ате the Same follows baroque

part of the way.

principles, happily
however, the mat
ical and the chambe
a

applied. Elsewhere
al seems a bit rl
music pati
. Which ma us
wonder why Quateman’s first LP had to
be cut in London,

yway.

Sonny's back and Milestone's
Sonny Rollins’ Next Album, which heralds
Rollins return to ihe musical wars.
clearly indicates that he has been stor
ing up his creative juices. Sonny. never
presses, never seems at а loss for ide
cool but far from dispassionate, he deltly
cuts new paths through Poinciana (so
prano sax) and Skylark (tenor), while
doing his own very personal thi
Playin’ in the Yard, The Everywhere Ca-
lypso and Keep Hold of Yourself. The
small rhythm section behind him keeps
things cooking admirably. Welcome back,
Sonny: hope you'll chile

MI right. we might as well admit it: our
mind turns to. marshmallow when con-
fronted by a Noel Coward song. The
melodies are not terribly daring —most of
them have a comfortable, old-shoe sound
to them —but the lyric . .

those lyr

nificent
у ТТ
even precious. but he had an uncanny
way with words, They can be silly. senti
tal. hypersophisticated, but they are
gloriously inventive and as
lutely Coward as his s ге. Two giant
helpings of the Old Master will more than
make our point—RCA's two-LP albu
Cowordy Custord from London and Oh Cow-
ord! (Bell), another twin

brittle,

bso-

There are, of course, the classics.
such as A Room with a View. Poor
Little Rich Girl. Mad About the Boy, ГЇЇ
Fellow My Secret Heart, Ziegeuner, Mad
Dogs and Englishmen, Let's Do Il, et al.,
but the real joy of the albums is to be
found iu the less familiar songs, And they
here in orgiastic abundance. И you
y delight in words, you have a
fantastic time in store

albu;

THEATER

The Changing Room,

major play by the

comes to Broadway throug
tion of New Havens Lc
ter with m аА
cast and ап American director. Midh
Rudman, Play and production merge
into an experience not to be missed
nd impossible to forget, The Chang
s Room із that rare work that resides
the 1 long after one has [ей
the theater. On the surface
bloody surface—this is a
team of semipro rugby players: it takes
place im a men’s locker room. Some
might (wrongly) di it as simply

astonishing

very

play about а

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Ai: So if you have
„© Some rough driving
? to do, like getting

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your luck. 4

PLAYBOY

48

Ventura X
it lets you get away
with anything.

Whatever you're up to. ХІ сап rise fo the occasion
Rich-loaking. Roomy Rugged. A lightweight that's
as right for her os it is far you. In Marao, Choco,
Royale Blue. From $32.50 to $180. At better stares.
For “Tips on Packing, write Ventura, Dept. XLP,
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Fashionable belting conceals |
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What can you buy today
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it will work, always,
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Zippo Manufacturing Co. Bradford, Pa. 16701 | 1 F Lighter shown, 52000)
In Canada: Zippo Mfg.Co. of Canada, Ltd. Others to $175.00

documentary: actually, it is an evocation
ol life—and not just in a locker room. For
the period ot the play (before the game, at
half time and after victory), we know
2 of them. Through

ad with re-
markable insighr, Storey reveals them to
us, so that we can sense their lives con-
tinuing offstage. When they complete
their shared activity and leave the chang.
ing room—bruised, shattered, tired or
euphoric—they trudge home to unfaith
ful wives, soar into town for a drin
back to joyless pleasures and—in some
cases—to the barrenness of
able existence. There is an absolute
thenticity, not just about David Jenkins’
locker-room set, the sporting jibes and
taunts, the camaraderie in the communal
bath (the onstage nudity is essential) but
about the characters themselves, We [eel
the heartbeat of these men and the pulse
of their society, At the Morosco, 217 West
45th Street

Two for the Seesaw, William Gibsou's
intimate play about two totally dissimilar
lovers—the stiff Nebraska attorney and
the garrulous Giel Mosca from the
Bronx—has been opened up into a big.
broad Broadway musical. Surprisingly
it has managed to survive the metamor
phosis. While retaining its romantic heart,
Seesaw captures the strai
of the urban beat—as arly prodi
tion number, when a chorus of sexy
whores tries to turn the hero on to the
erotic delights of. Eighth Avenue. The
music and lyris by Cy Coleman and
Dorothy Fields. though. not. rock, have
à contemporary sound. Lanky Ken. How-
ad's Lindsaylike good looks add an
ironic note to his characterization of the
WASP stranger in the city. Michele Lee is
pure Сішеі, an earthy, impulsive urchin,
not to mention a magnetic musical per-
former. The two stars are supported by
a long stretch of clastic named Tommy
Tune, as а high-stepping: gay chorec
rapher. Like Irene (see page 49), Seesaw
has had pre-Broadway birth pains: but
unlike Irene, Seesaw has a firm creative
hand, Michael Bemet, in charge of all
the disparate elements. As author, direc
tor amd choreographer, he has built a
Seesaw that succeeds in balancing a two-
character play muliicharactcr
musical, Ar the Uris, 1633 Broadway.

as and stresses

id

A little Night Music waltzes onto Broad.
way like a fresh zephyr. This is an айу,
captivating musical. one thar can be
enjoyed even by people turned off by
musicals as they often make them today—
high-powered and pile-driving, Were it
not for the setting. turn-ol-the-century
Sweden (one of the many things bor

папу deli

mar Be

rowed from In E

cately shaded comedy Smiles of a Summer
Night), one could be in Vienna. The

Mozartean ring to the title is intentional.
Stephen Sondheim's buoyant score is in
ed

three-quarter time and his sophisti
re lull of daring rhyme inv
and inversions. As a lyricist, Sondheim is
at least the equal of Porter and Coward.
Although Hugh Wheeler's adaptation is
cuts below Sondheinrs music aud

lyrics

sev
Bergman's scenario, the book will serve
for a summer—or winter—night, Tony

Gly

winning tress, and
Len Ca s her lom
idmirer. Mnally capture love belo
too late during A Weekend in the Coun
hy—one of Sondheim's most felicitous
songs. The two leads are choice actor-
as are Lawrence Guittard and
tas a contrasting couple.

s Johns, as

enured 1а

M saucily talks her way

and a new actress, DO (аш

stops the show as a sexy maid si
lusty The Miller's Son. The production
and direction are by Harokl Prince. The
evening is Шами, At the Shubert,
West Hth Suect

ucers of frene—who include

y. uncarther of the successful
No, No, Nanetle—have now exhumed а
1919 musical. or at least the title and
some of the trimmings. The 1919 [rene
must have been more lun than this hand
me-down. Five of the H songs remain, in
duding, most memorably, Alice Blue
Gown. The others ave by à covey of com-

posers amd lyricists, including Joseph
McCarthy and Harry Tierney. the show's
original songwriters. There have been at
kast iwo directors, Johur Gie
nd Gower Cl

was dismissed

ographer. the chor
Gennaro. 0 appe

aphy is by Peter

there were loo

many (1

been slapped together
the Your Fathers Mustache nostalgi:
crowd, wih beer, barrel house and
barbershop ballads. Remember Debbie
Reynolds? Here she is, making her long
ed Broadway debut—looking
Twice as short and acting just as peppy
but instead of Donold O'Connor, there
ad Mome Mark
orge S. Irving

is a still of an actor na

as her love interest
ay a sissy Paris coutmnier and Pansy Kelly
as Debbie's pushy mother brighten the
аттану book, which is a lelthanded
swipe at My Fam Lady. Can an Irish
piano tuner from Ninth Avenue lool
snooty Long Islanders by pretending 10
be a countess from Monaco? Where Ха
nelle Ve
cnormons beach balls, rene has а male

a female chorus dancing on

chorus (plus the star) dancing on top of
player p
pass as innovation, but—by Busby—it's
merely imitation. What is new is the the-
ater, the Minskoll. at One Astor Pla

o. In some quarters, this may

‘et $23.95 at а greet ©
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а Component

Ей-слее of a job transfer, my girt
friend and I live in different: states: we
sce each other only on holidays and spe
Gal wips. Every time we meet, we go
through ritual period of adjustment
that wastes precious rime and often causes

discord. She insists that we fill each
other in on the changes we have under-
gone, 1 would just as soon spend our

time on the simple joys of being together
d let the changes in our personalities
gradually. but she sees this soul
to our relationship.

sui

unve as vit

We do love each other. How do we
resolve our difhicultic A.. Omaha,
Nebrask:

Insecurity is the mother of confession.
Your girlfriend is unsure of the depth of
your relationship. thus she is concerned
with surface changes. Try to reassure her,
amed that pointing out symp-
toms is по cure [or insecurity. Surround
the tensions of the present with remem-
brance of things past and predictions of
things 10 come.
activities; physical intimacy is а marvel-
ous way Lo grin and bave it.

Ore of mya

торе for a semester and
al times about his Aladdinlik
with pass. Ham leaving for Spain
shortly and would like to pick onc up
Can vou give me any derail—D.. Le
Cambridge. Massachusetts

railpass is the Continent’s gift 10
foreign tourists and must be purchased in
your native country [rom a travel agent
or а representative of the French. Na.
tional Railroad. The ticket entitles you to
unlimited first-class travel on 13 national

bul be

In. short, combine your

st

ates has been іп Eu-
as written

ever

ventures:

railroads in Europe (Great Britain is ex-
eluded). A Euvailpass costs 5130 for 21
days, $160 for a month, 8220 for lwo
months and $250 for ее months. A stu-
dent сап get а special two-month second-
class Eurail pass for $135

Wine and whiskey seem to improve

with age, but unfortunately, the older
they get the more they сом. 1 am
planning to acquire a charted wooden

keg so chat I can age my own whiskey.

i d put a commercially bouled sour
sh whiskey hack into a keg and resume
g process? Also, is it wue that
if 1 place the keg somewhere where it

receives regular movement (eg. on
the rocker of a rocking chair) the ag
process will be accelerated: —M. F-

Austin, Texas.

Age per se does not improve the qual-
ity of distilled spirits. Whisk
blended,

y —bourbon,
Scotch—is bottled

American

when it has reached its optimum qual-
ity in the wooden barrel. For exam-
ple, a bourbon that is bottled after six
years has reached its prime at that time
а bourbon that is bottled after eight
years is a type that can survive and im-
over the two additional years. То E
whiskey for additional
would noi be likely to improve the
whiskey апа might cuuse it lo delerio

aging

“All my.men weat
English Leather.
Every one of them’

rate. Also, you will not accelerate aging
p the kes
shiskey is a myth. I seems that а
slicker, driving the
hills, stopped at a house where ап old
man sat on the porch in a rocking chair,
sipping whiskey. The visitor asked for a
drink of the hich was superb,
then asked what the secret was. The old
man said he wasn't sure, but he had
been sitting in the rocker all day, sip-
ping at the jug. and the longer he stayed
the better the whiskey got.

Early this year, 1 began dating a girl
from my home town, She had been dat-
d she

if you in motion. Rocking-
chair

city

in

innessee

'olvement and decided that it was time
et to know other people, He was not
ed about the idea, and now rat
1 have appeared on the scene, he is even
less enthusiastic. She is seeing him half
the time and me the other hall. 1 think
that I could love her very much if only
she would give him up. Recently. she
assured me that she would
in Boston with him to visit New York
At the
ı with either of us. 1 would like
e our relationship. but I dont
know how. I an afraid that a confrouta-
tion would wreck my chances, but the
inaction is killing me. What do I dox—
L. D., Springfield. Massachusetts.

Nothing you do will gie you better
than а 50-50 chance; it is her decision.
We suggest that you withdraw; distance

and dignity might increase her desire for

very exc

with me st minute, she decided

not to

ло salva

you: if not, the color of the grass on the
other side of the hill makes great camou-
flage jor all shades of envy.

Since 1 moved to Aspen, I've become
п avid backpacker. I am now in the
market for a lightweight sleeping bag
for overnight camping. I've heard that a
dawnfilled bag is the best buy Tor
ht and warmth, bur the variety of
femures and styles is confusing. I
the mummy-shaped bags that taper from
the shoulder, but 1 suspect that the de
sign would cramp my style when camp-

"All my men wear
English Leather. .
Every one of them"

APRODUCT OF MEM COMPANY, NORTHVALE, N.J. © 1971

ing û deus. Is there such a thing as a

51

PLAYBOY

52

sleeping bag for two? What do you rec
ommend?— ]. M. R., Aspen, Colorado.

Goose down is the best insulation for
sleeping bags and cold-weather clothin
il creates a dead-air space that traps
body heat and it absorbs enough mois-
lure to prevent chilling when the body
perspires. Down also is quite durabl
when it is encased in high-quality rip-
stop nylon, it should last for years. Саш
Hou: Down has a tendency to shift and
produce cold spots; manufacturers solve
this problem by sewing the down into
compartments and baffled channels
Make sure that no seams go through
both the inner and the outer nylon shells
—cold will penetrate such seams. The
best bags alternate stitching and include
a downfilled flap to prevent drafts
along the zipper. Sleeping bags come in
several shapes—rectangular, tapered and
mummy (although mummy also describes
(he increasingly popular tapered. bags).
Ther double bags, but we don't
recommend them. If you can, buy two
bags that zip together; these will give you
more than enough room for nocturnal
activities and will allow your friend to
pack her share.

ar

After wo months of са
und four couples who se
terested in mate swapping. My partner
ad 1 had agreed beforehand that at
least three of the couples had to be mar-
ried, and it turned out that we were tl
a the group. The
st oficial gathei
ile, my girl
(We were all
оГ our proposed swap
ning was warm and re-
» we decided to start our activities
1 my place. | retired to one
Го my
prise, І found that I could not build
п cllective егеси mater w
techniques we employed. 1 did not h
e ло find out if tl
g condition: one hour after we
ted, my best friend kicked down the
bedroom door and began to strike h
wile violently. 1 restrained him and when
he quieted down, we discussed the situ
tion, He had. not touched my girlfriend
and he claimed that he had ente
teswapping scheme to tot his wil
He also accused me of ha
lose, since I was
1 would like to
fiasco, and 1 wonder what I did wron
\. R., New Brunswick, New Jersey
erything. You and your friends ap-
parently ave sexual conservatives who [eel
your erotic encounters should follow
“Robert's Rules of Order.” Sex stops be
ing fun when it becomes official. Your
friend was wrong when he said you had
nothing to lose—you did, your friendship

only unwed couple

weekend belore our
ing, my best friend, I
friend and I dined ou
charter. member

а week

bedroom with my friend's wile.
м

үс
a serious

is wa

or

ight?

this

with him. We suspect that you were
somewhat concerned about losing your
girlfriend, or you would not have sought
the safety of married couples. Finally,
your temporary impotence and your
friend's violence indicate that you have
strong subconscious objections to mate
swapping. As Aristotle. said, “The vm-
pulses of an incontinent man carry him
іп the opposite direction from that
toward which he was aiming.” You have
no business in the swap business

As steritity inher
Massachusetts.

Only when the child is the product of
immaculate conception.

О. of my favorite pipes—

head meerschaum—has gone sow

there any way to sweeten i
ron, Pennsylvania.

You can’t just рау the pi
ing a sowed meerschaum is difficult.
There are those who use commercial
sweeteners and they are close kin to
those who burn houses to get rid of ro-
dents. A porous meerschaum is likely to
absorb so much sweetener that it will be
useless for a long time. Clean the pipe
thoroughly, let it dry for a month, then
smoke it less—use it in sequence with
other pipes and clean it after each use

Berco headphones provide my favorite
form of listening. pleasure. However
am about to convert my system to qu

edi—D. К. Newton,

Turk’s-
15

er; sweeten-

phot sound and | wondi
continue the headphone habit —R. P
Chicago, Iino;

Yes. Although purists proclaim that if
d had meant man to listen lo quadra-
phonic sound, He would have given us
Jour cars, manufacturers of four-channel
equipment have remedied this omission
by making headphones that have two
speaker elements in each earpiece.
verts to quadra phonic systems report that
this arrangement delivers the unbroken
circle of sound that they seek.

"-

Qa assignment tor
course, | am preparing a film s
dope«lealing story that 1 heard s

go. It seems that two freaks fr
ncisco decided to hitchhike aci
county with a pound of crystal LSD. А
smallt

ss

wit policeman stopped them in
nd searched their packs while

inst the door of the patrol
car. He found the LSD and. with the
smirk of impending arrest, licked his
finger and tasted a generous sample of the
white powder. "Heroin!" The two freaks
looked at each other with the beatific
certitude of those who are about to wit-
ness divine retributio ed for
the limb of the law to leave Consciousncss
1 он the lyser Sure

Kansas

they leaned

ud

nding pad

enough. on the way to the st

cop drove into a cornfield, j

the car and started singing something
about a. yellow-brick road, The story is.

of course, far too good to be true. Yet
there are those who believe it. Has it
been known to happen, and does LSD
taste like heroin?—W. F. B. Willow,
New York.

A spokesman for the Bureau of Nar
coties says that the laste test is pure Hol-
lywood, so feel free to leave the fantasy
in your film script. Most law-enforcement
agents carry portable testing kils to ana
lyze unknown substances, or they refer
the samples to county laboratories. Both
LSD and heroin are virtually tasteless,
but dealers used to cul heroin with
quinine, which has a bitter taste. Experi
enced street buyers could tell the quality
of the heroin they purchased by tasting
the relative bitterness of the sample. Now.
adays, dealers cut heroin with lactose,
which is almost tasteless; the taste test
is obsolete,

АЛ, husband and I were ins;
{eats of fellatio that we saw in Deep
Throat. We watched in awe as Linda
Lovelace took into her mouth and thro
all of a penis that must have been ıı
inches long Although 1 try, I |
been unable to achieve her total grasp.
Au article іп the April rravuoy men-
tioned that she shared certain skills with
professional sword swallowers. 1 was
under the impression that sword swal
lowers used collapsible swords. What is
the --Міз R. С, Bul
Ve

A professional sword
swallows real swords. says: (1)
your head back as far as il will go. This
opens up the throat and allows you to ac-
сері ап elongated. object without gag
ging. (Lying on your back with your head
over the edge 0j a bed ty the most comfort
able way to maintain this position.) (2)
Hold your breath. (impractical in this
context; est that breathe
through your nose. Linda Lovelace says
that she breathes around the penis on the
outstroke.) (3) Practice with a blunt ob.
ject before you try а real sword. (Linda
says it was three weeks before she be-
lieved she could cat the whole thing.) A
colla pred sword is the end, not the means,
of this particular trick.

ed by the

secret?

ton.

nont.

allower, who

Throw

we sus you

All reasonable questions—from. fash
ion, food and drink, stereo and sports curs
to dating dilemmas, laste and etiquette
—uwill be personally answered if the
writer includes a stamped, self-addressed
оре. Send all letters to The Playboy
Advisor, Playboy Building, 919 N. Michi
gan Ave, Chicago, Minois 60611. The
most provocative, pertinent queries will
be presented on these pages cach month.

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The Grapeshot.

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TEX

THE PLAYBOY FORUM

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

LAW AND DISORDER

Two items іш the March Forum News-
front suggest that some advocates of kaw
and order are far from consistent about
it. William F. Buckley, Jr out ol re-
spect for existing did not experi-
ment with por until he һай sa led his

yacht past the three mile limit, but did he
buy his pot from a pusher who was also
outside the three-mile limit? And in New
York, policewomen are posing as prosti-

tutes and arres пуопе who proposi-
tions them on the charge of “patronizing
a prostitute.” But such a charge would be
false unless the policewomen were in fact
prostitutes. Do they ight as hookers

to m;

BLUE-RIEBON JURY

1 was delighted 10 read а news story
about a jury in Laredo, Texas, that ac-
quitted a man tried lor possession. of
13 pounds of marijuana, The judge in
the case blew his top, telling the ten шеп
and two women they would never serve

in his court
illogical and ill
claring that sudi verdicts are “responsi
ble, in my judgment, for the increasing
cime rate everywhere." Perhaps the
acquittal was due to lack of evidence, but
many Texans are sick of jailing people
for ma ina offi

in, calling it a "stupid,

ind de-

advised verdic

es.
H. E. Villers, Jr
Oklawal lorida.

NO HOME FOR HERETICS

The U- S., once a bastion of civil liber
ties, has taken on a sinister character in
recent decades, I think particularly of the
cases of Ezra Pound, Wilhelm Reich and
Timothy Leary. Pound, accused of trer
son for broadcasting his opinions on Ital-
ian radio during World War

ried bum was asy
lum for 19 ye: procedure recently
followed by the Russians in dealing with
heretical poets and scientists

Dr. Reich, theories still ex-
ert considerable influence on psychiatry
in Europe and America, was banished
from Germany, Denmark and Sweden
in succession for his sexual-revolution
ideology. The U.S. then clapped him into
jail and burned his books on the grounds
that one of his therapies was fr
(many physicians believe it isn't).

Гуо, was

never shut in an

whose

idulent

Now, in the Leary case, after forcing
him into exile, the Government. pur-
sues him hallway around the world and
drags him back to put him in a cage. The
excuse—that Dr. Leary was in possession
of half an ounce of an I herb—is not
believed. by anybody. Even the judge at
Learys last vial admitted that his
speeches and writings were ihe reason
for refusing to grant bail. The "
Leary is t0 be caged because many want
to punish him for his i

This country was onc
tics, a place to which peopl
lar ideas could flee for refuge. H it
that
might it not be civilized enough 10 let
heretics go elsewhere? What, exactly, is to
be gained by jailing them? No way has
ever been found to jail their ideas. The
U.S. already acd. by the Vietnam
will look even worse as the nation
d hree proud, haughty, arro-
gant but very ct ries who
шау have béen right somewhat more
often than they were wrong.

Robert Anton Wilson.
Fort Bragg. California

with unpopu-
vt
tradition,

continue libertar

ative vision

Wilson is the author of “Sex and
Drugs: A Journey Beyond Limi

(Playboy Press). For more on the Pound
The Writer as Political Crazy,"
by Alfred Kazin, on page 107.

case, see "

CRACKBRAINED CRACKDOWN

I have always felt that to be a U.S.
citizen is a special and a
cause for pride when the
time cime, 1 volunte i
my country's Army. I'm
putting on an olivedrab uniform means
forfeiting one's rights of citizenship and
saying goodbye for a couple of years to
the kind of the free.” At least, thats how
it seems in the U.S. Army in Europe,
attempt to curtail drug abuse
has made a mockery of constitutional
tice and a watchword of Catch-22: “They
have a right to do anything we can't stop
them from doit

The crackdown on drugs is aimed not
just at drug users
suspected users
who associate with them. And the word-
ing of a directive handed down |,
authorities indicates that an “associat
cm be someone who happens to live

where

lso at
nd pushers and those

ad pushers but

in the same barracks with the suspect
Al
suspec

associates—are lumped into

users

proven drug 1 pushers.

1 drug users and pushers and
single

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55

PLAYBOY

category and are subjected to severe d
plinary measures. These include having
the door to one's room removed; loss of
driver's license, civilian clothing and all
pass privileges: removal from one’s room
of everything except а wall locker and a
bed: thrice-weekly urine testing: and man-
datory attendance at counseling sessions
at a drug-and-alcohol assistance center. In
addition, “If you are married and live off
post. you will be required to move into
the barracks” and submit to the afo

mentioned nd one is forbid
den to “accept, buy or take anything from
another person.” (T; e what this
last directive m. "s how it

reads.) Even for nonsuspecs, there are
weekly acks and bodies
(they're looking for needle marks) and
not-so-subtle attempts to turn. everyone
into an informer. General Michael S.
who is responsible for most of
ssment, has said that he considers
drug abuse to be “the single greatest
threat” to his command. I certainly won't
deny that drug abuse is a problem here
but this is not the way to deal with it.
Stripping all rights from men who
only suspects and turning others into in-
formers can only undermine the soldiers’
respect for what they are here to defend:
ic, the rights and freedoms guaranteed
to all Americans under the Constitution.

(Name withheld by request)

APO New York, New York

PLAYBOY AND THE MILITARY
I have read pravnoy for the past few
s and note that it has 1
ingly antimilitary. In The Playboy
Forum, you publish letters from people
blaming the military services (ог е
thing from the Viet T to unrest on
college campuses. The men and women
in the U. 5. Armed Forces do not deserve
this abuse. The people who endure the
horrors of м nd the loneliness of being
way from their homeland deserve better
th the scorn Playboy Forum letter
writers have been heaping upon them.
Sgt. George E. Brown
APO New York, New York
You mny be interested in the following
letter, which attacks us from the opposite
viewpoint but quotes our true. position.

In the March Playboy Forum, the
из justify PLAYBOY'S acceptance of
Armed Forces recruiti ith the

ht to recruit person-
nel through E.” 1 do not agree
that the is legitimate. You
acknowledge, "We deplore the war
Vietnam, we oppose
we қ n military practices
1 we look forward to the da
world’s swords are beaten into plow.
shares" If you admit that there's that
much wrong with the military, why do

sg you help strengthen it? ТЕ you want to see

FORUM NEWSFRONT

a survey of events related to

sues raised by “the playboy philosophy”

COPS FLUSHED FROM TOILETS

SAN FRANCISCO—The California su-
preme court ruled that police officers can
no longer hide in public rest rooms watch-
ing for illegal sexual activity. The court
decided unanimously that, in the absence
of a reasonable belief that a crime is
being committed, such spying is an illegal
exploratory search and violates the right
of privacy. The cout said, “When in-
nocent people ave subjected to illegal
searches—including when, as here, they
do not even know their private parts and
bodily functions are being exposed to the
gaze of the law—their rights are violated
even though such searches turn up no evi-
dence oj guilt.

HARD TIMES FOR HARD CORE

WASHINGTON, D. C.—T he Nixon Admin-
istration has launched а new nationwide
campaign against sex movies, charging
film distributors and theater owners with
interstate. transportation of obscene та-
terials under the 100-year-old Comstock
да. Federal grand juries іп Memphis
and Washington, D.C., have returned
over two dozen indictments and many
more are expected from other parts of the
country, according to The Washington
Post. Prosecution appears to be aimed
primarily at feature films such as “Deep
Throat,” “Little Sisters” and "School
Gil," which are shown commercially
in theaters.

+ In New Jersey, where the state ob-
scenity law has been ruled unconstitu-
tional, the Passaic County prosecutor has
charged two producers and two performers
in “Deep Sleep” with aiding or commit-
ting fornication, private lewdness, carnal
indecency and “tending to debauch the
morals and manners of the people"—all
illegal under New Jersey's 18th Century
sex laws. Some of the movie's scx scenes
were allegedly filmed at a private home
in Paterson, giving the state jurisdiction.

* In Los Angeles, district attorney Jo-
seph Busch is still trying to prosecute
publisher Milton Luros for violating the
state's 1913 prostitution law. Luros has
been accused of disobeying a court order
enjoining him and his associates from in-
ducing people to engage in sex for money
while posing for pornographic pictures.

JUDGE CUTS THROAT

NEW YORK—The criminal-court judge
who found the movie “Deep Throat” ob-
scene made it clear that he did not enjoy
the film. In a blistering 35-page decision,
Judge Joel J. Tyler called the movie a
“feast of carrion and squalor” “ihe nadir
of decadence,” “brazenly explicit” and “a
Sodom and Gomorrah gone wild before

the fire” Не concluded with, “This is
one throat that deserves to be cut [and]
1 readily perform the operation in find-
ing the defendant guilty as charged." Enr-
lier, a jury in Binghamton, New York,
found the same film not obscene.

BEST SHOW IN TOW?

ALBANY, GEORGIA—Calile television
subscribers watching an episode of “Тһе
Rookies" were treated to about ten min-
utes of hard-core pornography when two
off-duty TV technicians pushed Ihe
wrong buttons. The two thought they
were privately watching a video tape of а
slag film featuring group sex and didn't
realize the tape machine was still patched
into the transmitter. Both lost their jobs.
and the manager of the cable-TV. com-
pany made a public apology, although
only about eight viewers called in to
complain,

ABORTION REACTIONS

PAkIS—Protesting their country's strict
abortion law, 345 French doctors have
confessed in a published manifesto to per-
forming illegal abortions for the past
several months. Their statement was
supported by a group of 206 additional
doctors, lawyers, teachers, clergymen
(both Catholic and Protestant) and othe
professionals, including four Nobel Prize
winners. Last October, a 16-year-old. girl
was tried jor having undergone an abor-
tion and was acquitted after many distin-
guished French intellectuals testified on
her behalf.

+ In the United States, the National
Conference of Catholic Bishops issued a
pastoral message condemning the U.S.
Supreme Court's decision legalizing abor-
tion,and excommunicating any Catholic
who “undergo or perform an abortion
The message also condoned civil disobe-
dience, apparently for the first time in
the history of American Catholicism, to
any law requiring an abortion, although
no such law has been advocated.

+ [n Haly, a spokesman for the Vatican
Press atiacked a parliamentary bill to le-
galize abortion, saying that such measures
would leave the world populated with
only selfish old people who would be
worse than animals.

HOMOSEXUALITY RECO! IDERED

The American Psychiatric Association
is deliberating whether or not homo-
sexuality should be removed from the
organization's official catalog of mental
disorders.

The A. P. A*s cight-member committee
on nomenclature has been urged Ьу gay
organizations and a number of prominent

psychiatrisis to delete homosexuality
from the list of sexual deviations, which
also includes fetishism, sadism and.
masochism. The chairman of the commit-
tee said that the group hoped to draw up
a statement to be submitted for А. P. A.
approval at its annual mecting.

EQUAL RIGHTS FOR MEN

At least in some courts, divorced men
are getting better breaks:

= In Washington, D.C., a superior-
court judge awarded custody of three
children to the father and ordered the
mother, a Government chemist, to pay
5200 a month child support.

- In Chicago, а woman circuil-court
judge decided that а man should not have
10 support both “his divorced wife and
her paramour” and absolved him from
continuing to pay $800 a month alimony.

+ In London, а domestic-court judge
said, “There is no reason why a wife
hose marriage has not lasted long and
who has no child should have а bread
tichet for life,” and he ordered her di-
vorced husband to pay her a maintenance
allowance equivalent lo 24 cents a week.

SAVED FROM SIN

stow, omo—A 19-year-old youth faces
a possible prison term of 30 years to life
on charges of giving marijuana to his
11-year-old brother. He was turned over
10 the police by his father, the town
mayor, who said afterwards, “It was a
tough decision to make . . . 1 got up at
three in the morning and went to the
police station. 1 figured if 1 waited any
longer 1 might have changed my mind."

POT POLLS CONFUSE

Marijuana is either continuing ils
steady increase іп popularity, or it’s not,
depending on the survey. А recent Gal-
lup Poll indicates thal marijuana use
among adults төзе only slightly—from 11
to 12 percent—during the past. year.
However, another poll (described by the
National Commission on Marijuana and
Drug Abuse as the most comprehensive
pot survey ever made) included all. per-
sons over 12 and found that 16 percent of
the adults and H percent of the youths
had smoked pot at least once within the
preceding year, representing an increase
of eight. percent оғ 2,000,000 people, be-
tween 1971 and 1972. According to this
study, the number of regular pot smokers
rose from 8,310,000 to 13,000,000 during
the same lime period.

JUSTICE FOR THE ILLEGITIMATE
WASHINGTON, D. C—Jtuling in separate
cases, (he U.S. Supreme Court has held
that an illegitimate child is fully entitled
to financial support from its father and
to shave in any Social Security benefits he
may have earned. The first decision over
Turned a Texas law under which the man

had no legal obligation to support his
illegitimate offspring, The second struck
down a policy of the Social Security Ad-
ministration that had given illegitimate
children a smaller shave of a dead father's
benefits or, in some cases, none at ай.

MORNING-AFTER PILL

WASHINGTON, D.C—The Food and
Drug Administration has approved the
drug diethylstilbestyol (DES) for limited
use as a morning-after contrace plive, but
has warned physicians that it should not
be used "as а method. for birth control
th continuous and frequently repeated.
therapy” because of possible adverse
side efjects

BOOK RIPPERS

GRISWOLD, coxxEcricur—Local. school
officials, acting in “the best interests of
the students,” had a 37-page chapler on
human sexual reproduction ripped out of
а physiology textbook used at the local
high school. The officials said they found
the topic nol appropriate to the sensibili-
ties of high school juniors and seniors and
added, “We are not a book-burning or-
ganization but that chapter would have
created controversy іп the community
and afjected the educational process."

TEENAGERS AND BIRTH CONTROL

WASHINGTON, D. C.—4 survey of unmar-
ried teenage girls in the U.S. indicates
ihat approximately 28 percent are зех.
ually experienced, but fewer than halj
used any form of contraception the last
time they had intercourse and fewer than
20 percent used any of the three most
effective methods (the pill, I. U. D. or dia
phragm). Dis. John F. Kantner and Mel-
vin Zelnik of Johns Hopkins Uniwersity
conducted the Federally financed study
based оп a sample of 1611 girls, 15 to 19
years old, and published their findings in
y Planning Perspectives, a journal
of Planned Parenthood-World Popula-
lion. The report suggests several reasons
for the limited use of contraceptives by
teenagers: the unavailability of prescrip-
tion contraceptives lo unmarried mino:

ignorance of the risks of becoming pre
nant, ignorance of the effectiveness of the
various contraceptive methods and the
emotional reluctance of many girls to
prepare in advance for sexual activity.

MADNESS OF THE МОХ
WISCON

TH

MADISON, Slate senator
Gordon Roseleip told a hearing room full
of witnesses that repeal of Wisconsin’s re-
strictive birth-control law would endan-
ger national defense. Pointing out that
the Vietnam war was fought mainly by
the sons of the poor, he said, “Now you
want to g contraceptives to poor
people. Where are we going to get men for
the Armed Forces if we have another con-
flict? It's a good way to destroy an Army.”

swords beaten into plowsl
you take positive action to make it hap-
pen? As it stands, the American people
re being slowly drained of manpowcr
and mind power. If you want this
stopped, you have to do
There is no middle of the road here.
Kevin R. Crowley
Yorba Linda, Californ

res, why don't

MODERN ARMY REGRESSES

When 1 entered the “modern volunteer
Army” told chat ha
regulations wei t anymore
could my quarters
posters and that | would enjoy
constitutional freedoms that 1 wa
fending. Now it's 1973, and my superiors
tell me that my hair must be cut to old
Army standards and that my living quar
ters must be identical to everyone else's.
(I can hang posters, but only as lon;
as theyre pro-Army and suitable lor
framing.)

As for my constitutional freedoms,
the military attitude on rel
summed up nicely by the admiral who
was quoted in the October 1972 Forum
Newsfront as saying that an atheist can't
be as yood an officer as
dom of speech exists only
don't say anything the military doesn't
want to hear. Freedom of the press? Ask
the guys who are serving five years at
hard Labor for wying to publish or distr
ute underground Army newspapers.

Sp/4 Robert K. Reed
APO San Francisco, Califor

dividua

long as you

COUNSELING FOR THE СІ
Do Servicemen know to whom to turn
when they have a problem? I'm writ
ing to you on behalf of the Military
Counseling Program, We've talked to à
lot of Gls and found that many don't
nd the legal procedures for g
mphlets
enclose a

t tell them how (ple
stamped. self-addressed envelope) and а
new book by Robert Rivkin, The Rights
of Servicemen (95 cents, plus 40 cents for
first-class postage)

nV

орташ
nds

Religious Society of F

Rutherford Place
New York, New York 10003

VENERATING THE FLAG
A judge im Hartford. City, Indiana,
sentenced а young n
desecration to stand for three hours out-
ng a flag bedecked
with gold fringe and an "The young
man had to be guarded by police. The
crowd that. gathered—including Amer-
ican Legion full ur
shouted “Commie” and even thi
him. After an hour, the jud
offender moved indoors for
Since serving his sentence,

form—
atened.
е had the
his salety.
he and

res in

57

Blended Scotch whisky. 8 years old. 86 Proof. Imported by £21” Brands, Inc., N.Y.

“He is nothing more than a *Let us pray for this young

fered of 27 pounds sterling to rogue and a rounder. А man man who has strayed so that
any man who shall deliver to like Jamie should be horse- he may see the error of his
this court the person or car- whipped and driven from wicked ways and repent for
cass of one Jamie, last name town by barking dogs? his scandalous acts?
unknown?

Jamie 08.
The only Scotch named after a scoundrel.

“I don't know why everyone
is so upset about Jamie?

Get Dad's clothes
brighter 2 ways.

чотлаш шша ШЕМ

герен s Cnt

Now that Mom has changed Dad's clothes from duller than dull to
basically bold, what should you do?

Simple. Give him a Paris belt for Father's Day.

We ve combined an exciting contrast of darks and lights that fit
right into today’s bright co-ordinated look.

‘And Paris belts won't get lost in the excitement because we've given
them enough character to hold their own (in addition to holding up what

и

they're supposed to hold up). f Z3
Last point. If Dad hasn't broken out of the dull clothes habit yet, - 5”
give him a Paris belt anyway. Sometimes starting in the middle is the best way |. |
to make a man change at both ends. " 2 >
is Belts. |
e

PLAYBOY

60

members of his family have been sub-
jected to public hostility from other good

citizens of Hartford City. Ironically. no
disrespect. was intended by the young
man, who was using a flag as a curtain in

er home. He simply thought it

The judge defended the sentence, say-
ing, “The intent was embarrassment. 1
didn't think a fine would reach that man.
1 feel 1 made the right decision. Being a
veteran and proud of my country and
flag. I probably would do it again.

Being a veteran myself and also being
proud of my country and Hag, I'm
ashamed of the un-American barbarities
committed by some people in this land in
the name of patriotism.
mes Henderson
Indianapolis, Indiana

WHEELS, WHISKEY AND WORSHIP

While rev the Mississippi
Driver's Manual prior to taking a license
exami 1 found this strange passage
in the manual’s section on the effects of
alcohol on the brain:

divided into
ich part has a role
to play. yet all three parts work to-
gether. The highest level of the brain
conuols thinking, reasoning, judg:
ment, self-control, creative. ability
and power to worship.

Given the publication in which that
statement found, one is inclined
to wonder if our state highway patrol-
men’s trousers аге held in place with a
Bible belt.

Richard M. Vacar
Gulfport, Mississippi

NEBRASKA CLAP TRAP

Nebraska's State Public Health and
Welfare Committee seems more interest-
ed in promoting the welfare of druggists
nd in moralizing than in the public's
physical well-being. The committee killed
a bill to allow the sale of condoms to
persons of any age through vending ma-
chines and. other. businesses. Strong op-
position to the proposal came rom the
Nebraska Pharmaceutical Association,
whose attorney cleverly argued that pass
ng the bill, which is aimed at combating
V. D,, would actually be “detrimental to
the health of the people,” since machine
sales of condoms might decrease their
quality (not to mention that they m
decrease the profits of the pharmacists
who enjoy а monopoly on prophylactic
sales under present law).

The Nebraska Association for Chris-
п Action also opposed the bill. Its
president, Kenneth. Kauk, sees the real
sexual promiscuit
Making condoms more widely available
would only enco $

šod’s punishment
n of those laws, trying to

for the

‘gislators who listen to this kind
of claptrap, Nebraska's reputation as а
corn-producing state takes оп а whole
new mear

THE CASE FOR CENSORSHIP

Some people are outraged when a
church group or a civic committee tries
to close down pornographic bookstores
and movie theaters or topless restau-
rants. Anticensorship people argue that
those who don't like such places can
ply stay away from them. But people
who do not frequent skin flicks and
dirty bookstores may become victims of
those who do, just as one who never
goes to a bar may be killed by a drunken
driv

—individual, after watching
movie or poring over some porno-
graphic magazine, gone out and raped
Or accosted an innocent person? Sur
this has happened and if it has hap-
pened even once, it would be better
that the movie never had been shown or
the magazines never printed.
Steve Lewis
Benton Harbor, Michigan
Abuse of alcohol can harm people in
many ways, but there is no
that pornography causes sexual prob-
lems or leads 10 antisocial behavior.
True, there have been cases where sex
offenders blamed pornography for their
actions—a contemporary way of saying
“The Devil made me do it” However,
in a survey of 3400 psychiatrists and psy-
chologists taken by the University of Chi-
cago's Department of Psychiatry, four
out of five saw no causal link, and of
the remaining 20 percent only about
seven percent felt certain. that a con-
nection exists. A study of 2721 sex offend-
ers conducted by the Kinsey Institute
found that “rather large proportions of
the men reported litile or no sexual
arousal from pornogra phy"—euen though
all but 11 males in the sample had been
exposed to it. Nor has the rate of sex
offenses in this country, or other coun-
tries, increased in proportion to the
availability of erotica. In Denmark, sex
crimes have actually declined. as porno-
graphic materials have become more
accessible. “The Report of the Commis-
sion on Obscenity and Pornography”
offers some information on factors that
really do seem related to sex crimes. It
states:

evidence

Research shows ihat the carly
social environment of sex offenders
тау be characterized. as sexually
repressive and deprived. Sex offend-
ers frequently report family ci
cumstances in which, for example,

there is a low tolerance for nudity,
an absence of sexual conversation,
punitive or indifferent parental ve-
sponses to children’s sexual curiosity
and interest.

Efforts to correct these conditions.
such as providing more widespread and
better sex education, will do more to re-
duce sex crimes than misguided attempts
to impose censorship, The latter, in fact,
may help to create precisely the emo-
tional climate that seems 10 produce
sex offenders.

EX-BUNNY HARRIED

In 1970, І worked for the Cincinn
Playboy Club and was photographed in
the nude for rtayuoy; and in 1972, I w:
red by the police department of the city
of Silverton, Ohio, to do community-
relations work, particularly helping with
young people. During my first week of
work, an article appeared in The Cincin-
nati Enquirer mentioning that a Silver-
ton policewoman had been a Playboy
Bunny. I initiated many programs and
activities for young people during the
following months, and I was publicly
commended by individuals and civi
groups. The police chief gave a statement
to the papers that his department would
be expanding the programs and assigning
other officers to work with me.

Then another article appeared іп the
Enquirer stating that a nude photograph
lappeared in a Playboy publica-
tion. The chief told me I had a choice of
resigning or being dismissed. He said that
he didn't want to be subjected to pres-
sure from ci gain. This was the
first time I'd heard he'd had any pressure
concerning me. 1 refused 10 resign and
nmediately was suspended. Later, city
officials met with my attorney and my
fiancé and told them Î could not work for
the city anymore because of the publish
photograph. The Silverton Civil Servi
Commission approved my dismissal and
the police chief issued 2 statement the
next day explaining that there were other
grounds for firing me, such
deny that I gave any such gro!
dismissal. Despite this exper
actively seeking to continue my career in
police-youth relations.

Elisa Simone Kruse
Cincinnati, Oh

s lateness, I

FREUD AND HOMOSEXUALS

James Boyd's letter
Playboy Forum quot
words to the mother of a homosexual is
example of the lengths to which some
people will go in their efforts to legitimize
homosexuality. Freud felt compassion for
the suffering woman and was unwilling
to condemn homosexuality; however, he
clearly saw homosexuality as a perversion
reflecting arrested psychosexual dev
ment, His Three Essays on the Theory of
Sexuality points out that sexual inversion

the March
ng Sigmund Freud's

op-

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PLAYBOY

62

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originates in the m
of the child's sexual life.

‘The admitted homosexual who expects
his therapist to help him become more
comfortable with his inversion is attempt
m
self-deception.

e potentialities

to involve the therapist in his own

Donald B. Rinsley, M. D.
"Topeka, Kansas

CIRCUMCISION SCRUTINIZED
ircumcision is widely prac
there doesn't seem

to be any evidence that surgical re-
moval of the foreskin is necessary. Dr.
William Keith C. Morgan. in an article
published in The Journal of the Amer-
ican Medical Association, states that
none of the medical reasons often. ad
vanced for circumcision of infants stands
mination: Phimosis—a too
able in new
ncer of the penis, found
almost exclusively in uncircumcised
males, is extremely rare and is le
to treatment, As for the fact that secre
tions accumulate under the foreskin,
regular use of soap and water easily
deal with this condition, This is equally
tue for the body's other openings. Dr
п points out that although wax

es, one being ù
per sed. head of the penis
muy become somewhat less sensitive 10
pleasurable sensations. Furthermore, as
Dr. Moi а маце.

During the act of coitus the
uncircumcised phallus penetrates
smoothly and without friction, the
prepuce gradually retracting as the
when

In. contrast,
umcised organ is introduced
coitus, friction develops bc-
tween the glans and vaginal mucosa.
tion in the circumcised man
has been compared to thrusting the
foot into a sock held open at the top.
while, on the other hand, in the
intact counterpart has been
likened to slipping the foot into
а sock that has been previously
rolled up.

It would seem, then, that circumcision
is a kind of surgical fad of questionable
value and may, in fact, be inconvenient.
Prospective parents ought to consider
these points carelu

in
Florida

A GREAT LEAP FORWARD

My wife and I met a couple of beauti-
Iul young girls, whom СШ call Leslie and
a party a few months ago and
c friendly with them, One
recent afternoon when my wife was sup
posed to be at a beauty parlor, I went
over to the girls’ apartment at Leslie's

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ity is aninheri it.
Scotch for Fathers Day. About 10.

Bobs been handle trains filled with рте

malting barley at the Olympia Brewery for
more than thirty years now.

You get Bob to talking, and youll hear
some of the best railroad a N
stories since Casey Jones. Hes +
got a special one he likes o (аа
tell about our natural artesian
brewing water. Says when )
they were driving steam
engines they used to fill the
boilers with our water
every time they came
to Tumwater. Не
claims our water

ее

api

Ж. go over the moun-
a lide bit easier.
ow, were proud of our artesian water,
апа we figure it makes the best beer in the
country, but we think Bob may be pulling our

leg with that one.

wife would be
that she would be the soul of discretion
Il it took to overcome my slight hesi-
cy. We had a fantastic romp on the
groom floor. Then Leslie said she
had а surprise for me. We walked to a
back bedroom, she opened the door a
crack and there in the sack with Kathy
my wile! Sitting on the edge of the
stud. who, Leslie whis-

ıs shocked. Straightforward adul-
but an orgy involving
И"

my wile, and
perverse, I thought. E must have looked аз
incredulous as Г felt, be Leslie just
smiled and told me to keep watching
и into the room. 1 did, and 1
can tell you it was a wild scene, Before it
was over, Leslie, Kathy, the stud and my
wile were all writhing around on the bed.

and I had become so worked up that 1
yan in and jumped ошо the bed. тоо.
To my amazement, my wile wasu't cm-

barrassed or dismayed when I appeared:
ind more tuned
he next hour or

she was glad to see me :
on than ever! Darin
so, the five of us managed to perform just
about every sex act imaginable—and
some I had never dreamed ol. Гус seldom
scen five people as exhausted as we were
when the good tine ended

Maybe you're w
affected our marriage, It's better
ever. My wife and 1 still love cach other
and Lam a lot more tolerant of the difler-
ences in people's sexual tastes and ap-
petites. While 1 wouldn't recommend
orgies as a steady practice, 1 have found

t an occasional repetition of that first
nee with group sex adds excite-
ment to our marriage and actually en-
hances our enjoyment of cach other when

adering how this has
Шат

ne withheld by request)
Concord, New Hampshire

SELF-PLEASURE
Although 1 am 25 years old and en-
joy sexual relationships, until. recently

1 had never had an orgasm. Looking
back now es me how skillfully 1
rationalized that my sex life was satisfy-
ing without orgasm. A Late-night conver-
tion good friend forced me to
focus on the problem. She suggested mas-
turbation to mi a means of getting to
know my own body, and said that il I
could give mysell pleasure, the rest would
happen easily. OF course 1 thoi
that was just a lot of talk. Somehow play-
with myself seemed like а waste of
time, especially since 1 had а man in my
life is play wi
left, 1 tried it. It just m: veu silly
and uptight, so Г gave up.

A few nights later, I went out with
my man. We ended the evening at my

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PLAYBOY

64

apartment making love. I did't come but

I was really turned on. Alter he left. Ilay
reaeating in my mind what
wed and rubbiı ids

all over my body. The tension became so
unbearable that 1 wanted ıo stim
myself. and 1 did. Well. I had an incred-
ible orgasm. It was just unbelievable.

Since then. I have spent а lot of my
private time making love to my own body
"d knowing that the more relayed 1
m and the more comfortable I get. the
sooner Û will be able 1o reach orgasm with
man.

(Name withheld by request)

San Francisco. California
MASTURBATION NOTION
1 completely agree with the generally

held view that masturbation is à harmless
pleasure and that sex of some son is bet-
ter than no sex at all. However, ГА like to
propose a qualification to that view. I be-
lieve that those men who find themselves
inhibited іп approaching women and
who therelore turn to masturbation as an
wet would do well 10 try to abstain
They then will
g ol desire for
| it becomes. pressi
enough, will drive them to overce
their inhibitions assert themselves
use their ingenuity to meet
ery of the opposite sex.
Ys Lib probably would never be-
but fear of we ad shyness in
approachir non problems
lor men. Perhaps that’s the reason. [or
some ol th
of male chauvinism:
for cowardice where women е con-
cemed. OL course, men who are inhibited
with women are the ones most likely to
r turbation. And, relieved of
sexual pressure. they remain locked in
their little sell-contamed worlds. lack
the incentive to break free,

N. Lewis

Cleveland, Ohio

more boorish manilestations
overcompensai

ан to am:

BREAST-SIZE PROBLEMS.

It ix beside the point
woman who wrote about her silicone im-
plants (The Playboy Forum. February)
was right or wrong to attach so much im
portance to the size of her breasts. The
in thing is that increasing her breast
size changed 1 her own mind, from
а loser toa winner and made her happier
1 sullered from acnepirred skin and an.
derwent. plastic surgery. so 1 know from
experience how much happier a major
improvement in appearance. can. make
a wol

whether the

ye withheld by request)
à Monies, Califor

Twas mariel t0 à man who criricized
my small breasts: he even pressured me
into wearing heavily padded bras. Feel
ing inferior about one’s breasts сап be a
teal problem, no doubt about it, but it is

possible to overcome th
In myc

brainwashing.
c. it required breaking with
d learning ro wear clothes
npliment my figure. Since my di
vore, P havent been denied either а
meaningful love relationship or a

sexual experience because of lat-chested-
пез And it was me the men wanted. not
a C cup.

(Name withheld by request)
Houston, Texas

BUTTON MAN

intense interest in female
avels—especially the type thar pro
trades, usually called an оше. To me
Raquel Welch is one of the most beauti-
ful women on earth because of her navel
1 through my copy ol The Joy of
Sex, edited by Mex Comlort—a treasure
trove of informational vidbiis—I found
the following passage. which may be ol
interest to other navel watchers:

Fascin

ET ting to lovers, like à
the details of the h body. Is
not only decorative but hay a lot of
cultivable sexual sensat
finger. tongue. glans or big toc.
merits carelul attention when
kiss or touch.

you

There's more. but i
indented

applies primarily to
navels—innies. Perhaps the
пем edition of The [oy of Sex will have
something to say bow the umbilical
conformation thar I, and Pm sure many
others, preter

(Name withheld by request)

Baule. England

BRING US TOGETHER

I know that rravnovs editors do not
think of. women as objects, and 1 know
that the Playboy Foundation contributes
much money and time to the cases of the
oppressed, including women. АЦ this is
te the baer than

ood. but it docs noi mitis;

өзеініндіу and unwillingly, ім. лушоу jus
might be helping to keep ns all men
and women—in the Middle Ages, be-

Cause the emphasis іш your magazine
seems to be very vividly and obviously on
Тешаіе bodies. I feel that the photos of
women in PLAYBOY arc used in the same

way that photos of airplanes and guns
ave used in magazines dor Miers and
shooters: They ше objects. things ıo
possess and enjoy. We 1 ire not

looked upon as full. «
beings. You а
an injustice by

nplete human
с doing your lellow. males
perpetuating their his-
buyers abuscis.

toric roles as
judges
women.
Even more
your cover subtitle
Men” o exaggerates
men and won

id rulers of these objects called

strongly do 1 feel that
^Enteriainmem: lor
the дар bewe
though they Hive i
deren: worlds, want differen
and decl diferen emotions. W
realize that our culture has taught us
these diflerences. E don't agree that they're
real. Men and women аге more similar

than d t makes our
few «йге
enjoyable.
1 decl that you limit the width and
breadth of your concept of beauty. True,
cach era has its own ideal ol beauty
the heavier women of Rubens time. the
chested Mapper. and so on: however
the human
¢ portion of its popula

much

ever so more

Na distinet disadvantage n
race when а |;

tion is not considered praiseworthy be
cause their noses are too short this
season. It seems а very superficial aui-

tude toward people and their worth
when a standard is set and portrayed. in
that all those whe
Му cinnot. adhere to it

such blazing cole

do not. or prob

we made to feel nat with it or not worth
й. Some of your photography is fan
міс: P only wish your subject matter

was а

varied as your technique

AU this may sound as though Fm
grasping ar intellectual straws to justify
prudishness. I asure you that. 1 have had
alizing my criticism ol
not a prude. I do
not condemn. you or judge you (very
much). 1 do feel the great conlusion that
arises in women nowadays—and perhaps

great trouble ve
PLaynoy and |

am

exists also in men. Instead of screaming
“Male chauvinist ріш” 1 would like to
эсе а nue meeting of the sexes and

person communicating with person
Judy Elder

Los Alamos. New Mexi

Your argument is reasonable and
thoughtful, but we can't agree with its
base prenuse that photographs turn
people into objects and that the appeal
such photos may have derives from or
berpetuaics а desire to possess. A desire
lo enjoy—perhaps. But always
opposed the idea that enjoyment of an
other person, either intellectually or
physically. can be properly based on
ownership or domination. Is regret
bly true thal many personal relation
ships are based on simple possessiveness
of the sort you describe, but this is
а result of psychological dependency
thal is ах common to women ax to men
Ws alto true that people often judge
themselves against standards they ail
Many and ugly шеп
were strong and handsome

wee

lo тесі weak
sh they
However, such problems won't be solved
by making photographic subjects less ap
pealing. We feel we do as much as or
төзе than any other publication to cam
bat the idea, on which your argument is
founded. that pleasure and possession ave

synonymous

“The Playboy alli
opportunity [oy au extended. dial
бесеп renders and editors of this pub
lication an subjects and issues related to
“The Playboy Philosophy” Address all
correspondence ta The Playboy Forum,
Playboy Building, 919 North Michi
tvenne, Chicago, Mlinaiy 00611.

the

be

Forum

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naor waver: WALTER CRONKITE

a candid conversation with america’s most trusted television newsman

In commenting on the demise of Life
magazine last autumn, former chief edi-
torial writer John K. Jessup remarked,
Except maybe for Walter Cronkite,
there is no more focal point of national
information cutting across these special
interests, no cracker barrel, no forum, no
well." Certainly, if God had set out to
create a prototypical middle American,
He could have done little better than
limn the image of the sud-eyed 56-year-old
тапи his CBS anchor desk in New
York—whose military-drum-roll voice,
sending modulator needles flickering 10-
ward the bass registers, has become part of
our collective consciousness. "Time maga-
zine has described Cronkite as "the sin,
most convincing and authoritative figure
in television news,” and а survey соп-
ducted by Oliver Quayle and Company to
measure trust in prominent figures showed
Cronkite leading eueryone—including
Presidential candidates Richard Nixon,
mund Muskie, Hubert Humphrey and
George McGovern.

But while Cronkite is regarded by the
public as а fatherly, sympathetic figure,
he has a rather more volatile reputation
among his colleagues in the broadcast
industry, where he's known as а tough,

jealous and outspoken guardian of news
men's rights. When Vice-President
made his now-famous speech іп De
Moines in 1969, sneering at TV news
commentators as “a tiny, enclosed frater-

пеш

”

41 can't see how it's possible to have such
an orchestrated, coordinated campaign
against the press without some prior plan
and agreement—which really comes out
10 be a conspiracy.

nity of privileged men elected by no one
and enjoying a monopoly sanctioned and
licensed by Government,” Cronkite was
among the first broadcasters 10 join the
battle. Agneu'sspecch, he charged, was "а
clear effort at intimidation.” In May 1971,
while most network news executives were
taking refuge in corporate anonymity,
Cronkite lashed out at the Nixon Ad-
ministration for committing “a crime
against the people" by trying to prevent
TV from doing its job as the people's
observer of the performance of their
elected representatives.

This position at the barricades is, in
fact, a highly distasteful one for the
Missouri-born, Texas-educated dentist's
son, who has avowed no greater desire in
his 22 years at CBS than to be where the
Punditry doesn't really appeal
10 me," he once told TV critics in New
York. Cronkite joined United Press
after his college days at the University
of Texas and, when World War Two
broke out, he became a top U.P. cor
respondent—filing eyewitness dispatches
from the Battle of the North Atlantic in
1942, landing with the invading Allied
troops in North. Africa in November of
that year, taking part in the Normandy
beachhead assaults іп 1941, dropping
into Holland with the 1014
Division and riding with General. Pat-
ton’s Third. Атту to the rescue of en-
circled American troops at the Battle of

new

Airborn.

“What Ellsberg did is for his conscience
lo work on. I admire tremendously his
courage and bravery and his fortitude in
doing what he did. But 1 would. never
assign a man to do that Jor CBS."

the Bulge in December 1941. After the
war, Cronkite re-established U. P. bureaus
in Belgium, Holland and 1.
and he was chief U. P. correspondent at
the Nuremberg trials of Göring, Hess and
other Nazis before becoming U. P.'s chief
correspondent in Moscow. Returning
home in 1918, he broadcast events in
Washington for a group of Midwest-
ern radio stations before joining CBS
News, where he became managing editor
in 1963.

Bejore aud since going to CBS, he has
been present at most of the major news
events of his time; perhaps his strongest
identification in recent years has been
with coverage of the United States space
program, for which he has
two Emmy awards. He has also been a
fixture of CBS" political-convention cov-
erage from its infancy in 1952 through
the 1972 campaign—with one important,
and humiliating exception. In 1964, CBS
pulled Cronkite out of his anchorman's
post for the Democratic Convention, sub-
stituting Roger Mudd and Robert Trout
іп an attempt to counter the rating suc-
cess of NBC's Chet Huntley and David
Brinkley. Cronhite’s professional pride
was deeply hurt, but he accepted the de-
cision without public or private comment
—and was back in the driver's seat after
TV critics and the public voiced loud
displeasure. Never again has he been

xembourg,

received

M

VERNON L, SMITH

“I think newsmen are inclined to side
with humanity rather than with authority
and institutions. And this sort of pushes
them to the left. But I don't think there
are many who are far Left."

67

PLAYBOY

68

зо cavalierly treated by his network.
Though he has always cherished his
old wise-service-bred belief in objectivity,
Cronkite has occasionally departed from
his impersonal vole. Sometimes the de-
partures were unintentional—as when
his voice broke with emotion in No-
vember 1963 as he announced President
Kennedy’s assassination, and when he
gleefully chortled “Oh, boy!” on witness-
ing the blast-off of Apollo 11 for the
moon in July 1969. Sometimes they were
deliberate: In. March 1968, after а two-
week visit to Vietnam, he concluded sev-
eral newscasts with ringing statements of
his view that the Administration was
wrong in its policies there. And on at
least one on-the-air occasion, Cronkite got
just plain mad. During the 1968 Demo-
cratic National Convention in Chi-
cago, after seeing a CBS correspondent
punched on the convention floor by se-
curily officers, he fumed: "If this sort of
thing continues, it makes us, in our anger,
want to just turn off our cameras and
pack up our microphones and our type-
writers and get the devil out of this town
and leave the Democrats to their agony.”
He didn’t pack up, of course. He hung
in there and saw the story through, as he
has ever since his first days as а w
service reporter. Thoroughness is a Cron-
kile hallmark—as evidenced. in Iwo of
last year's most incisive news specials:
а three-part series on the controversial
U. S-Soviet wheat deal and an in-depth
report on the Watergate scandal, both
of which he put together after returning
from trips with President Nixon's en-
10urage to China and the Soviet Union.
Из likely that Walter Cronkite has
talked, on-mike, with more of the world’s
headline makers than has any other living
American—with the possible exception
of Henry Kissinger—and many of his in-
terwicws have been considered landmarks
of broadcast journalism. In September
1963, he inanguvated “The CBS Evening
News,” network TV's first half-hour, five-
day-a-weck news broadcast, with an
exclusive conversation with President
"nnedy. Among his other subjects:
Egypt's President Anwar El-Sadat, Israel's
Premier Golda Meir, Yugoslavia's Presi-
deni Tito, West Germany's Chancellor
Willy Brandt, Britain's. Prince Philip,
and Daniel Ellsberg, the man who re-
leased the Pentagon papers, Most recent-
ly, Cronkite conducted a series of four
interviews with former President Lyndon
Johnson, the last taking place just ten
days before Johnson's death in January.
To get a summing up of Cronkite' own
feelings about his 40 years in journalism
and about the current contretemps be-
tween the Government and the press,
PLAYBOY assigned Chicago Sun-Times TI
critic Ron Powers to interview Cronkite

e is a Waller Mitty
is a famous тап who

in reverse: He
has fantasies of being ordinary, His of-

fice—a pristine cubbyhole just off the
‘Evening News’ set at CBS’ big broad-
cast barn on West 57th Street in New
York—proves it. There are the obliga-
tory ‘serious books’ about Presidents and
nations, the plastic-lined wastebasket, the
three TV sets and the ‘Facts on Fili
But there is also а large, sentimental ой
painting of a sailing boat (boating is
Gronkile's favorite recreation), a box of
chocolates and а cardboard-cutout statue
of Apollo spacemen, a grade-schooler's
gift that Cronkite keeps asa souvenir.
“He never loosened his necktie as we
talked, but he propped his feet up on
his desk and alternately clasped his hands
behind his head and fiddled with his
stretch socks. At one point he interrupted
the interview to take a phone call from
some dignitary; the one snatch of con-
versation I heard was, "This is between
you and me and the fence post... 2 He
coughed ,frequently—blaming it оп а
cold—and his voice in conversation was
surprisingly low, as though he were try-
ing to protect the throat that had re-
cently undergone surgery for removal of
n tumor. (He insisted he was fine
now.) His eyes, so. penetrating on the
screen, seem pale and sensitive in person.
He has the old-time journalists knack of
forming his thoughts into cogent, parsa-
ble sentences as he speaks, and he dis-
played a gift for the lyric phrase when
talking of his reverics at the helm of his
bont or of memories of childhood days
in Texas.
frequently sensed a mild, resigned
puzzlement that the life of a superstar
had come to him. He was unfailingly
courteous with me, but on the topic that
was obviously foremost in his mind—
current Government ploys to muffle
newsmen in the pursuit of their work—
he was neither mild nor resigned. He
was visibly steamed, in fact, when we
discussed the subject, which I broached
in my first question.”

PLAYBOY: You are perhaps the most ow
spoken of all newsmen in defending
broadcasters! rights against Government
act, you have used the
word conspiracy in describing the Nixon
Admin n's eflorts to discredit the
pres. How would. you characterize this
conspiracy?
CRONKITE: Let me say, first of all, that after
I used the word conspiracy the first and
only time, in a speech to the Inter
tional Radio and ‘Television Society in
New York a couple of y v. I be;
to regret the use of the word—only bi
cause I found that there were still people
who equated conspiracy with some of
the witch-hunts of the past, The word has
nearly lost its true meaning. Havin
that, I still feel that this is basically what
has taken place: а well-directed
against the press, agreed upon
by members of the Administr
can't sce how it’s possible to

secret
ion. Т
ve such

HU vd alive,
пау I help you?"

“PÍ be glad
to explain that

When you want to talk
tothe telephone company,

here's whos on
the other end of the line.

First of all, what you're not going Naturally, you aren't the
to get is a shuffle from one person only person with something to
to another. talk over with us.

What you'll get every time Each month, over 12 million
you call your local telephone com- of you call us. бо AT&T and your
pany's business office is a serv- local Bell Company have more
ісе representative. than 37,000 service representa-

And every service represent- tives to listen and to act.
ative has one job, and one job (The time and money to train
only. To help you get your prob- them runs into the millions. But

lem solved. Quickly. Politely. And ^ when you consider the job they're
to your best possible satisfaction. doing, every dollar is well spent.)
= Even with all these 37,000

people, we can’t promise to
solve every telephone prob-
! lem immediately. But we
_ can promise a service repre-
sentative will try.

We hear you.

“A timdyou don’t
| underslanda charge
on your bill, call us”

/a business Á . |
тезідепсе phone?" " à :3

PLAYBOY

70

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am orchestrated, coordinated campaign
without some prior plan and agre
ment—which really comes out t0 be
conspiracy.

PLAYBOY: Cuni you

trace it to one person in
т?

ішу think that the Presi-
1 has to be held accountable, since
the boss.

PLAYBOY: Do you attribute Nixon's hos-
tility toward the press to his personal
bitterness about the way the pres has
treated him?

CRONKITE: 1 think that may be true. al
though it’s very hard to ascribe motiva-
ton to body. rcumstantiall, the
evidence would point to that, Certainly.

he's had his bouts with the press before:
his disappointments have been shown in
public. There is the case of the 1962 gu
bernatorial concession statement in Cali
fornia. There is his failure just in recent
months, ai a very critical time in history,

w appear more frequently. before: the
press and the public to explain the work-
ings of the Administration, 1 think all
these things point to that general atti-
tude toward the press.

I don't know what happened inside the
istration. I don't know at what
point iis members decided that it would

be wise то attempt то bring down the
press credibility in an a ise
their own WT think Шах what has
happened. Its sort of like that U tube we
used to see im physics class that shows the
commereftcets of pressure: When you put
pressure on onc side and die lev
down, the level of the warer on the other
side has to rise. Exiending 1 theory, if
you could Jower the credibility of the
press. you could raise the credibility of
the politicians. That must be the underly
r theory in their attack.

PLAYBOY: Who. besides the President,
the men involved in this arrack?
CRONKITE: ГӘ include almost everybody on
the White House staff. You've got Herb.
Klein and Ron Ziegler to be c i
in there. You've also got the advisors,
b Haldeman and John Ehrlich
nd the speechwriter, P
course. i's unfair in a way to lump th
all rogeiher. because I doni know who in
that group might be raising a dissenting
voice and suggesting that this is nol the
way to go about handling the press rela
tions of this Administra
PLAYBOY: Nearly а ve felt
the need to control the pres to some
ee. Ps this imply
more sophisticated. than its predecessors
in the techniques of applying pressure
ellectivel
CRONKITE: | don't know that theyre any
more sophis

кз

re

1 politic

Administration

med. but they're the fist
ones who have deliberately set out to we
those techniques

PLAYBOY: What has been the chronolog:
of this attack? Was Vice-President: Ag-
news 1969 Des Moines speech—in which
he attacked the “tiny, enclosed fraternity

of privileged. men"—1he star alle
CRONKITE: 1 think that was the open decl.
ration in the battle. Before that, it was
simply felt that this \dministration’s
tagonism had been about like the imago-
nism shown by previous Administrat
Democratic as well as Republican “ра
ticularly Democratic—toward. the press
Ап adversary relationship. we all agree, is
a good thing. But the Agnew attack sud.
denly became a matter of Administration
policy and, more than that, a threat 10 usc
Govermmental weapons against the press
Then, following Agnew’s speech, there

ns,

titudes on the pari
of presstelations people in the Gove
ment. It wasa subtle thins
PLAYBOY: Not being cooper
reporters?

CRONKITE: Yes. V
feel

presure fri

aive with

d clearly displaying а
g that they felt they were under

e press but at they were

going тө be protected higher up. They
took the hard
PLAYBOY: Iher e com-

plaints by news executives of other net
works about rather direct applications of
this hard fine. They say that stall aides of
the ЕСС. and sometimes Administration
sill people, upon hearing that a contro
y is in the works, will

verial document
шері
ate stat

ms and remind them that their li
cense is coming due for renewal in at [ew
months. They raise that reminder in con.
nection with whether the station mana

cr is going to dear the documentary for
broadcast or not Has that happened

at CBS?
CRONKITE: I haven't heard anything
that here at CBS, but that doesn't nı
doesn't happen.

PLAYBOY: In. December of last year. Clay
1. Whitehead. who is President Nixon's
sions is nnounced to it
polis that
а bill was in the works that would place а

im travers

local stations license in jeopardy if ihe
station couldu't. "demonstrate: meaning
Tul service 10 the community.” White
head said “the community accountability
standard will have spec

network affiliates. Th
accountable to local audiences for
the 61 percent of their schedules that are
network programs.” Whitehead used the
words bias and balance in defining this
accountability. What do you think is be-
hind such a requiremi
CRONKITE: І think the Administration
would like to deflate. if possible, dhe
power of the network news programs. But
I don't know how in the world local sta
tion owners could do that. I think its im
possible. On the basis of what knowled:
y going to edit locally what we
ast nati ly? They don't have the
don available ai their
finger tips. as we do. Are they going to
challenge a statement made by a network
news correspondent in Saigon? How are
they going тө do that? Are they simply

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71

PLAYBOY

72

ng to decide it doesi't sound r

ight to
? Or it doesn't sound fair to them? I
k this is what Mr. Whitehead would
like to impose.

PLAYBOY: Why?

CRONKITE: This Administration dearly
feels that its strength is out in the cour
try. in the smaller communities, the land
of the great silem American, as they
would have it. The networks, this think-
ing goes, are more “liberal” in their out-
look than the individual stations. J think
they might be fooled
if they began to tamper with the fl
news. Bur the other part of Whitchead's
proposition was the carrot dangling at
the end of the stick: an increase in the li-
cense term to five years. instead of the
present three. This would mean vast sav-
ings in legal fees for the station. owner.
The bill would also asure the owner that
if anyone challenged his lic
be up to the challenger to present proof
that the station hadn't perlormed its hme-
tion. rather than the station owner's re-
sponsibility, as now defined by law, to
prove he'd done a ob-
viously, is very appealing—and rather in-
sidious as a temptation to "cooperate.
with the newt, Buc I think most
station owners know there's no practical
t

ase, ir would

povern!

way they ny real judgmes

over
ainment or new:
PLAYBOY: They could dee
network feed,

CRONKITE: Yes. they certainly could. T
would assume that that's the intent of the
Whitehead proposal. in its ultimate: If
the networks don't shape up by reflecting
community attitudes. then the only re-
course of the local ма ncel
them. Which means that you would be
n the establishment attitude. of
each individual community. IE network
news didn't coincide precisely with the
view at the local level, off the air we'd go.
If enough local stations did that
wouldn't have network news any longer.
But I dont think that's likely to happen.

PLAYBOY: Wouldn't it be possible Iorlocal-
the sime

ешек ing, either enter

le to cancel the

"ds doc

hozen

you

E ма 10 use

CRONKITE: Certainly. They cin use the
A. P, and the U. P. E, just as we do. But
the great bulk of our reporting is with
our own network correspondents, our
own film crews around the world. T dont
know who would supply the local stations
with film. There have been arempts at
syndicated newsfilm services that haven't
think

heen successful. 1 would be fine
to have a television news association si
lar to the A. P. or ihe U. P. I.
in which you would have a ма of
ign correspondents and foreign film
crews, But it’s a very expensive proposi-

tion, and it would cost the local stations

asoc

a great deal more than the present system
of taking network. news, which is subsi-
dized by the network.
PLAYBOY: You had lunch with Mr. White-
ıd recently. Did you raise these argu-
h him?
it wasa diplomats’ day: we
nd open discussion.” And,
s the diplomats say privately. it didn't
come to anything. We had, 1 must say, a
quite pleasant hunch, but we have a fun-
tal disagreement on these matters.
Us rhe nature of you

dame

cement?
CRONKITE: Well. it gets down 10
things. First, Mr. Whiteh

couple of
acl suggests that

he's not really trying to get at network
news: that’s nor the purpose ol the
license-renewal bill. H that wasn't the in-

tent. I asked him, why did he make that
speech to a journalism fraternity? Ar
id. “Well. it just seemed like a
forum at the time.” 1 found that a little
isi Then, secondly. he main-
the Administration feels net
Vk news must exercise a greater deg
of "professional. responsibility." I really
couldu't get a definition from him of just
what that “professional responsibility"
is. Td have a hard time defining pro
fessional responsibility myself. Bur my
hackles vise when Ih
we're not responsibl,
news have ethics we defend and m
s strongly as a doctor or a lawyer does
in fact. a dot more strongly Шап some
doctors and lawyers I know

PLAYBO' Joctors and kewyers have rather
well-defined codes of professional stand-
ards. but journalists don't. Do you think
they should?

CRONKITE: I don't really see that they need
to be imposed. 1
it. Freedom of press and speech seems 10
ak

nd I sce some dangers

imply that anybody can. write оғ s

our. whether he's literate or not, Erecting

standards would also suggest that you're

goin; the under-
ou

a mistaki
nalists only if the

IT you're going 10 accept jour
conform ro some estab
Jishiment norm, you wowi have the new
blood and free How of new ideas that are

solutely essential to
don't know that Tom Pa
passed a journalism-review test.

PLAYBO' эпе standard that Government
already confers on broadeasters is the so-
aled fairness docrrine, which: requires
jı both sides of coniroxersial issues be

vital press. 1

could. have

ıl
presented. You have sid you favor ity

elimination because it imposes artificial

d

and arbi
objectivity.

CRONKITE: Ves. | think the only way to free
adio and television news broadcasting
from the constant danger of Goverument
censorship is 10 free it from any form of
Government control. The only

do that is to limit the licensing

ary standards of balance

way
practice

to a technical matter of assignment of
channels.

PLAYBOY: Whitehead agrees with you on

this. But he cites three “harsh realities’
it impossible to el

ness doctrine at this time.
The first is “а scarcity of broadcasting
mits the

which he feels ange ol
viewpoints expressed on the air.
CRONKITE: I think that's false. There are
certainly a limited number of bands on
the open-broadcast spectrum, but we've
got cable TV, which provides a multitude

g now. And even

outlets,

of outlets, coming айо!

over the airwaves, how many outlets do
you need to have enough? In almost
every community today, the number of

television stations is limited solely by eco-
nomic viability. So where is this monopo-
ly they keep talking about? It doesn't
exist. You've got more television. net
works serving out news than you've got
wire services,

PLAYBOY: Whitehead's second argument is
of economic and social
is concentrated in the networks.
mple, does research and de-
velopment in military and space technol-
ogy. owns two publishing houses and has.
ph-record, record-club and film-
communications divisions.

CRONKITE: That's right. We're big. And
we're powerful enough to thumb our
nose at threats and intimidation from
Government. I hope it stays that way
PLAYBOY: But are vou powerful enough to
broadcast im your own interest, as ор-
posed 10 Ше public interest

CRONKITE: That danger probably exists. T
coulda’) deny it Bur there are ап awful
lot of journalists who wouldn't work for
networks if they did that. That's the first
line of delense. The second line of de-
dense; whidi I admit isa matter of trust, is
iir попе of the network manigements is
as venal as that. At least
shown that side to те Гуе been here for
2 yems and I just don't think that’s
likely

PLAYBOY: Whitehead again: “There is a
tendency for broadcasters and the net
works to be self-indulgent and myopic in
the First Amendment its pro-
only the sas speakers. They
forget th.
sure a free flow and wide range of infor-
mation to the public.” Comme
CRONKITE: “Thats absolutely wh
ight to be doing, But that’s not just
what we're supposed to be doing: that's
what we aie doing
PLAYBOY: Do you think the local-station
licensc-renewal bill will succeed?
CRONKITE: | hive a [еей
simply because 1 believe that there are
enough Cor
tothe dangers to our free speech and free
press that they would go very slow on any
thing of this kind. Fthink that this aware-
ness is increasing in the country. Now.
Ym alraid that we in the news media

phone

they haven't

View

(its primary purpose is to as

we

that it wont

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PLAYBOY

74

t popular with politicians. with any
ical party or any political creed.
mean, all we have to do is go back fou
years to remember the furor that was
raised in Congress after the Democratic
Convention of 1968 by Democrats who
were shocked at the coverage that we
dared give their clamb: 1 Chicago.
Now it’s the Republi in power.
PLAYBOY: Yo you believe that Con-
gress will he alert to the dangers posed to
free speech. yet you say the news medi
aren't popular with politicians. If tha
true, wouldn't Congress be likely to vote
in fav ictive legislation?
don't think so. T
think you have to equate popula
ty with rational conside
issue. E think a lot of Cong
men will vote to support an institution
they have disagreements with if the issues
involved are important enough to trans-
cend their own personal bias, as I think
the issues in this bill dearly are. Those
in comm g 19 appre
ciate the pres. Irs fundamental that
they shouldn't. When they do. we'd
better look to our profession to find out
what's wrong.

PLAYBOY: Do you think what some cditori-
al writers have called the "chilling effect"
of the Whitehead bill may have been
achieved simply by its being brandished
asa potential weapon?

CRONKITE: There is a chill right now on
newspapers, and on broadcast new:
particular. We feel it to a certain extent
here at the network level. where we have
the greatest strength. Thats why they're
der us first,

PLAYBOY: What form does this pressure
take?

CRONKITE: We feel it on us with each item
we report: that it’s going t0 be questioned
by the Adm ı the higher
echelons of the network, and among our
и be called upon to ex-
plain an item, why we used it. why we
chose that. particular. wording. This is a
shadow that constantly

don't
ity or

ion, and.

PLAYBOY: Does that threat influence the
content of the news?
CRONKITE: I dont think so. 11%

Кеа cold

ting on our n
our job. I don't know of any story that
sı't been carried on the CBS E
News because of a chilling celleci, but 1
"t know that that can go on forever.

PLAYBOY: Besides the Whitehead bill
there have been oth ults on
the press. Four reporters have been sent
ай for refusing to hand over confiden-
lo fifth
ack Anderson's legman Les Whitten
—was handcuffed and his notes were
impounded. And а Nixonappointed
Corporation for Public Broadcasting has

ning

n 10 the courts:

affairs programing f
schedule. Do you believe these i
e all part of an orchestrated atta

edom of the press?
1 do. I have no doub

om public TV's 1973
idents
k on

bringi
ied 10 є

y that the press has no

society, that, indeed. if
anything, the press should be put under

much doser serutiny by society as a
whole. And this, I think, is a dangerous
philosophy. This campaign against press
credibility, to divide the vation fr

the pre найр

stepped up, аз a matter of fa

ing of Agriculture Secretary Earl Butz's

remark in іше February, when he a

nounced that the costoffood index had

risen in January by the greatest perce
іп 20 or 95 years—and then s;

1. Pm think-

seems to me. How do you misinterpret the
ict that food prices have gone up by the
est percentage in 5 years? Butz
ares that food prices are going to be
ist y and dilhicult for the Administrar
to deal with, so let's put the blame some-
where else
PLAYBOY: Insol
the br of this attack. do you feel th
CBS is the primary targer—that the Ad.
ministi n is still vindictive
Selling of the Pentagon and your own
news reports last summer on the Water-
ate affair and the Sovier wheat deal?
CRONKITE: I like to think that we've been
in the forefront of the reporting and
therefore in the forefront when the flak
starts to Пу. That doesn’t . Fm
not med for
entire country.
PLAYBOY: News analysis on all the nei
works has dropped off since the Admin
tacks begin. There are fewer
of Presidential ad-

as television

dresses. for example
CRONKITE: I'm not sure I agree with you. I
think that we at CBS bend over backward
10 be sure that we get an analysis on afu
every major address. Even when co
cial ec dictated

ge

ions might have
ately from the addres to
we've o the
m in order to get a

the next cut
top of ıl
few licks in.

PLAYBOY: But
they used to bi
CRONKITE: I don't know. I guess T have to
be candid and say thar it seems to me thi
on occasion our guys have pulled the
punches, But Гуе talked with them about
ise that's not part

re these licks as tough а

that they don't feel Thay h:
do feel threatened. Thi

e. But they
question ol

is one of the
or phonies of the whole antinerwork,
anti press campaign. As any newspaper-
man knows. it’s rare that the press doesn’t
lential speech several
hours in advance. The newspapers must
et it set in type. the editorial writers
л shot at it for the next day's
nothing ins
lysis. The network a
er than the print press to study a speech
in fact. because they don't deliver their
alysis until after it's given.
PLAYBOY: What about the “instant analy
is” that Gov nt spokesmei
The Selling of the Pentagon? Do you feel
some of that єт

want * though,

ma;

ant about
Iysts have long.

ing—was justi
ak some of it was justified.
I'm not a great defender of some of the
editor The Selling

ficers conversation so that his remarks
were taken out of context. I also think
Шеге was some emphasis on some
of Pentagon pul
kind of a bum

fectly acceptable as Pentag
the Penta;

public кім
ing for our money. How else is the public
ing to know? But the Government was
nitpicking in an effort to destroy (he gen
eral theme and the impression given by

on ought to bc show

what we

it’s got an

The Selling of the Pentagon, which was
fully justified.
PLAYBOY: What was that gencral theme?

CRONKITE: The exposing of a great propa-
ganda organization that has been devel-
ped not primarily to inform the public
but to keep it sold оп
establishment.
PLAYBOY: Can you think of subsequent
documentaries that have been as tough
and g as that one? Many feel it
is kind. And it was broad-
k in 1971.
don't think the documentaries
are less tough. We just don't have as
many of them on as we used 10, on any of
k this is a function
of worn out the
ly. What we
Sixty Minutes lor
the Sunday ine format. And I
1 believe that anybody can say that
that is soft, Ics damn tough миш.
PLAYBOY: Do you think thar the publics
apparent dedir
anyth
success im

networks. I1 thii

the

‘e instead now is th

» documen:

қ interest
ag to do with the Admin
isir discrediting the
pres? Were you surprised, for example,
at the low level of outrage following the
це expos
CRONKITI nly was, very much зо. 1
ie it to the fact that the people say, well,
campaign-y
tack against Nixon.

PLAYBOY: Do vou think the public really
cares about freedom of the press

tions

8

1 cert

it's just anothe

ar press at-

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75

PLAYBOY

76

more? Or even about its own freedom of
speech or assembly?

CRONKITE: I think people care in the ab-
stract. But they don't und ind the spe-
сїйсє. We did a poll on the Bill of Rights
at CBS a couple of ycars ago. We asked
people such specific questions as, "As
long as there appears to be no danger of
violence, do you think any group. no mat-
тег how exireme, should be allowed to
organize protests against the Gover-
ment?" Something like 76 percent of the
people said no. they don't have that right.
But the same people support the constitu-
ntec of freedom of assembly.
п the abstract but not in
nd this is our problem
PLAYBOY: Implicit in the Adminisiration's
attempts to force the networks to
balance" the news is a convic that
most newscasters are biased against con-
ism. Is there so the
television newsmen tend to be
left of cent
CRONKITE: Well. cer ly liberal. and pos-
sibly left of center as well. I would have to
accept that.

PLAYBOY: What's the distincti,
those two terms?

CRONKITE: ] think the distinction is both
clear and important. ] think that being a
liberal, in the true sense. is being nondoc-
udogmatic. noncommitted to
isc—bur. examining each case on its
merits, Be left of cemer із another
thing: it's a political position. T think
most newspapermen by d on have
to he libe уте not liberal, by my
definition of it, then they сап hardly
be good newspapermen. H theyre pre-

пе truth in

view th

between

нагыз for a cause. then
they can't be very good journalists: that
is, if they carry it into their journalism

As far as the leftist thing is concerned.
that I think is something that comes from
the of a journalists work, Most
пете me time covering
pier side of human endeavor; they
cover police stations and courts and the
infighting in politics. And I think they
come to feel very little allegiance to the
established order. I think they're indined
10 side with humanity rather. than with
authority and institutions. And th
of pushes them to the left. But 1 don't
think there ave many who are far lett
ган
is correct

PLAYBOY: Some cri
lefcoLc

хе spent sc
the sea

linde left of cemer prol

this
нег tendency produces а kind.
of conventional

des believe that

lom for Liberals—a
point of view that’s common to most.
newsmen. During last summer's conven-
tion for example. George
McGovern was repeatedly characterized
as a likable but conniving bumbler and
Nixon as ап unlovable but
eficient mana р.
sherty. Senator

cove!

President

эң a closed sh

Ассо

McGovern's press secretary during the
1972 campaign. the press never rests un-

it has found a convenient tag. Then,
unconsciously, it edits its coverage to fit

this preconception, Is this a legitimate

CRONKITE: God, it worries me more than al-
most any other single factor. It's a hal
that I justify to myself because of the time
element. You quickly label
leftist or a conservative or something. be-
iC every time you mention s
lmost impossible to explain precisely
where he stands on various issues. But
labeling disturbs me at every level of our
society. We all have а tendency to do it.
PLAYBOY: Doesn't the fact that the same
labels tend to be applied 10 the same
people by all the networks—as well as by
the priu there’s a bit
100 much editorial np-following in the
news business?
CRONKITE: Don't forget that
campaigns these who cove didate
are all livî nd working together in the
greate cy. T mean, there's a lot of
Gossfertilization. and these reporters be-
come kind of a touchstone for the rest of
the press. That's inevitable, I suppose.
But the idea that there's some elitist liber-
ab Eastern establishment policy line is
bsolutcly m
To the extent: that there is at
tendency лө group-think, what do
«Пес of itis?
the extent that there is an
"s to be deplored. But 1
g von can
й. We've perhaps all condi.
similar backgrounds, similar
experiences. And youll find. I chink, that
if we do, indeed. react in a knee-jerk fash-
ion to news stimuli, so do people in every
other business.
PLAYBOY: Isn't ihar the essence of Vice-
President Agnew's charge—that newsmen
re conditioned by similar backgrounds
nd expe
CRONKITE: Again. he's
elitist Eastern establishn as our COM-
mon background and experience, I'm
thin i the police st

aom

as а

political
a

CRONKITE:
effect. T think
don't know that there's amt

ces?
of the

s the kind of experience I'm
abe

experience with the people, experience

id overburden

with the burgeoning

bureaucracy. experience with those who

have a tough shake in lile. Thats the
experience Fm talking about.

PLAYBOY: How бо you leel about advocacy
journalism—the kind of reporting that.
puts the sort of experience you mention
in the service of a newsman’s own per
ı1 convictions? Is it posible that there
isn’t enough of 1 than

puch, as Agnew claims—in the media?
CRONKITE: I think that in seeking ruth you

E

is—rather 100

have to get both sides of a story. In fact, 1
don't merely think, I insist that we pre-
sent both sides of a story. It's perfectly all
right to have first-person journalism; I'm
all for muckraking journalism; I'm all for
the sidebar, the eyewitness story. the im-
pression piece. But the basic function of
the press has to be the presentation of all
the facis ou which the story is based
‘There are no pros and cons as far as the
press is concerned, There shouldn't be.
‘There are only the facts, Advocacy is all
п special columns. But how the hell
re you going to give people the |
te something if you don't
facts to them? If you go only
lvocacy journalism. you're really as-
suming unto yourself a privilege that was
never intended anywhere in the de
tion of a free press.

PLAYBOY: In
ment th;

sis on

g an official state-
man knows to be pat-
do you think that in the

CRONKITE: J think you're probably obligar-
ed to report it—but you're also obligated
to check the records first.

Сап you thi

k of a могу in
п quoted has been
dependent checking to be

shown by

un иш?
CRONKITE: Yes, ihat happens quite fre-
quently. For exampl
nouncement about the purchase of a
new weapons system that’s going to cost
so much. and we point out that develop-
ment costs have already run а lot more
Шан that. This is a routine part of
reportin,
PLAYBOY: The job of corrobora the
facts in а могу can be complicated by a
newsman’s closeness with his source. Jack
Anderson and others say that most news-
Washington аге so dependent
on high level sources. so impressed with
being able to ate with the mighty,
that they become their unwitting allies. Is
П г appraisal of the Washington
press corps?

CRONKITE: 1 think it’s a serious problem,
d nor just for the Washington press
corps. H's a serious problem for the coun-
ty-court reporter, the police reporter in
Sioux City or anywhere else. How close
do you 10 your sources? It's а hard.
on. In order to protect your objec-
iy. you can tura. your back өп them
ly: but by so doing. you can also cut
yourself off from inside information.
PLAYBOY: Anderson insists that sources tell
him things because they're afraid not to,
CRONKITE: Well. 1 think that’s right. But 1
don't approve of everything Anderson
nd everything he prints. He often
tas inadequate evidence. E think he takes
ad blows them into
jor scandals. On the

there's a Pentagon

dà

deci:

does

a consistent job of investi
ism, at least on a daily basi
1. And I do agree with him that there
Jashington who
k social favors, to the con-
ment of their report
Бо a lot of lazy rey

simply find it’s а lot c
to take the handouts and rewrite them
than it is to do a day's work.

PLAYBOY: Another problem in Washiug-
ton news coverage seems to handicap
broadcast reporters more than the print
press, The networks don't seem willing
а reporters,
arc shunted
from story to story, never staying on one
for a long time. Doesn't that handicap
you?

CRONKITE: Yes. there's no question about
it. 105 part of our basic problem in
network news, something the public
should be aware of. The problem is lack
of personnel. The reporters we have
the field are the best in the business. T
most of them are graduates of

gencral newsm

е superb. But we don't have enough
of them, and we're never going to—sim-
ply because we don't have the outlet for

^s for maybe three or four
nd a total of 10, 12
s that are going to run
ch. It's pretty hard in

justify maintaining a staff equivalent to
that of the A. P. or U. P. I.

In telev , we can introduce the
public to the people who make the news
We can introduce them to the places
where the news made. And we can
give them a bulletin service. In those
three particulars, we can beat any other
ne edium. But for the in-depth re
porting that’s required for an individual
to have a reas knowledge
of his world on any given day—ol the city
and county and stite—we can't touch it.
PLAYBOY: There is a famous story that the
CBS news di © pasted up your
ning News onto a

covered less than the eight columns of the
front page

CRONKITE: Yes. The number of words
spoken in а half-hour evening-news
broadcast—words spoken by intei
interviewers, me, everybody—came out 10
he the same number of words as occupy
two thirds of the front page of the stand-

ic
back pages
PLAYBOY: In тесе
press has been criticized not merely for
the superficiality with which it reports

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The tour through our distillery
takes about an hour. And if you
find anything you'd like to
linger over, go ahead. You can
catch up on anything you missed
* from Mr. Garland Dusenberry.
(He's the man who takes you through.) Just tell
him what you missed
and he'll take іс from
there. But he’s a talker.
So you might end up
being with us more
than an hour. But if
you don’t mind, we
certainly don’t either.

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77

PLAYBOY

78

news but for actu
news evei

the
transforming ts—riots,
iple. Do you think that’s a
criticism?
CRONKITE: There's a very serious problem
with that Demonstrations have always
heen staged for the purpose of attracting
attention. There's no purpose for a dem-
onstration except to get public attention
апа hoped—sympathy. Certainly, the
demonstrators ave going to be where the
cameras are. Certainly, they're going to
let us know in advance that the demon-
stration will take place. Certainly, they're
hoping for live coverage. Certainly, if you
€ coverage, it's going to be a more
lively demonstration than if. you don't
have live coverage. But 1 don't think that
we're responsible for the events. We un-
questionably have п them
but so does а newspaper reporter's or a
still photographer's presence.
PLAYBOY: But TV camera crews аге very
conspicuous, whereas а newspaperman
can be lost in the crowd.
CRONKITE: Lights are the biggest problem.
And I guess for that reason the Chicago
convention may have been the end of
lighted demonstration cover
lights attract demonstrators like moths to
а flame.
PLAYBOY: Television l
least as much for its соустан
nam wi for that of demonstrations
inst it here at home. Do you think we
found out from television—soon enough,
ly going on in
In the early war yeas, network
cutives seemed to subscribe to
tional assumption that Ame

es:

influcnee à

we. becnse

s been assailed ar

ge of the Vict-

ul the war was covered ac
cordingly. И wasn't until long after-
ward —1968 and later—thar TV newsmen
such as yourself began to express doubts
about the justness of America’s involve
ment in Indochina. Wasn't this lag in
critical reporting one of broadcast news's

CRONKITE: I'm nor sure 1 сап give
ely factory "
ged. Yes It changed. It went through
xls. Let's go back n
n troops were first committed
over there im sizable, casily identified
units, as opposed to two or three Ameri-
can advisors working with the Vienam-
езе troops. Up to ‘65, as our involvement
deepened, we were increasing our cover
age. We were doing stories on advisors
ı the field, and the dangers to them,
nd the occasional death, But
daily flow of combat film. For one thing.
we weren't interested in endangering our
correspondents to do that kind of thi
But in 765, when we be; iui
tou U.S. units. it was another story.
Here were American boys fighting in
маг. The news story became these boys at

n en-
The cover

aswer.

when

several peri

Ame

out

t wasn't a

war. If you're going to do that honestly,
you're going to have to go up where dl
blood is flowing. ТІ
s: the story's not back in the base camp.
We were taking the war into the homes of
America—ind that's where it belonged.
In a war situation, every American ought
to suller as much у front
lines, We ought to see this. We ought to
bc forced to see it.

at's where the story

PLAYBOY: But Vietnam wasn't just a visual
story. It was a complex story of ideas, of
political assumptions, of men’s atritudes

y tanding of the war
on this level necessitated sophisticated re
porting. How high was the journalistic
ty of the TV newsmen who went
there in the early years? How about
those guys who hung around the press
ТЕТІ in 5 for the so-called
those nocomment

To conve ide

news conferences? How long did it t
them to realize they had to stop t
handouts and find ont. what w
going on?

really

was any lag
As a matter of fact, 1 was surprised
апа a little annoyed —at reporters dur
ing my ‘65 visit over there. T had gone
over belicy
back conce

came
kup of forces far gr
ders ever told. us we were likely to com-
mil. Th my disillusion begar
But at first, when I arrived, as 1 say, [was
the skepticism of the report-
ers at the press conferences іп Saigon.
They were accepting nothing at the five-
o'clock follies. More than seeking infor-
mation, they were indulg
Г considered self-centered b
pleasing their own egos, showi
much they knew. And 1 was

fended. E thoug!

"s wh

annoyed

t betray
their extreme youthfulness. Maybe, T

they shouldn

thought, they were a Tile wet behind the
s. I wondered why they didn’t just do
their jobs, ask the questions and thi
n and get the story.

PLAYBOY: Didn't the military have a strong
hand over there in directing the flow of
news, deciding where a man could go
with his camera?

CRONKITE, Ves, they did, but they always
do in a war situation, And I think that the
n

1 go

press ended up gening the truth
way—and telling it.

"ta reporter who
ai but a disgruntled sol
ld Ridenhour, who tried for
months to peddle his story to the press be
fore The New York Times accepied. it.
There was great resistance on the ран of

the press to orsion.
CRONKITE-
cause th
frequently. There are a lot of thi
il we had the manpower and the time and
so forth, we could investigate: the letters
that come to us about conditions at me

cept his v
That could very well h

е. be.

sort of story comes to us quite

that.

ші institutions, or in prisons, or Ше wel-
fare situation, that undoubtedly are true
s for My Lai, had it come to us first

I don't know precisely how we would
have handled it, but 1 can see where we
would have had considerable difficulty in
handling it. Here was one soldier's
charge; we couldn't have just gone on the
air with it, We would have had 10 go out
and spend a tremendous amount of ellort
to check the thing ош. А really
whelming amount of clore. And we just
haven't gat the resources to do it

T think that the attitude of a managing
editor, faced with that tip. might very
well have been, “God, that sort of thing
goes on in all wars. It’s probably not as
Dad as this soldier says it was. Is proba
bly somewhere between that and not hav-
ing happened at all. As a matter of fact.
we've already reported several like that
и 3s bad as that, but
charges that civilians had been shot, and
so forth.” And just dismissed this story for
that reason. My Lai, fortunately, was fi
nally uncovered, to the very great credit
of Seymour Hersh. :
PLAYBOY: You were quoted as saving that
if Daniel Ellsberg had brought the Penta-
gon papers to CDS, you wouldn't have
run that story either.
CRONKITE: | cidit say that. Somebody else
said it, T think. Bur Tm not sure that
quite true. I think if he had brought the
here, we would have gone to a newspaper
nd said. "Let's work together on this
Let us summarize them and you present
the full text." But the Pentagon. papers
re a tough one. I don't know that if I
were the editor of a newspaper, I would
assign a reporter to ny to get hold of the
secret. reports of the Pentagon. In fac
Fm pretty confident 1 wouldn't
PLAYBOY: Why not?
CRONKITE: Because T think thar going
from the outside to get hold of secret
pers is legally indefensible, I don't think
the press has a right to steal papers.
PLAYBOY: Isn't it just as legally indelensi
ble to print papers stolen by someone
else
CRONKITE: No.
the secret files

over-

—olviously n

Once they've come out of
d we in circulation іп

tsoever, Га say then that the

way w
public is entitled to
body else knows. But 1 don't dl
individual is entitled 10 know what is i
side secret files while they're still secret.
Please understand, however, that Vm for
complete declassification of secret papers.
Overclassificition is one of the ar
which the Federal Goverament is terribly
culpable. But I think we have to get at it

now whateve

have any right to vio-
Fm a real old-fashioned guy
in that sense: I believe in law and order
1 don't like the Fact that the phrase has
become a code жөні for bigotry and sup-
pression of civil rights and a lot of other

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PLAYBOY

80

things. I don't believe in that for one
damned everloving minute. But if you
take the words for what they really mean,
I think law and order are the foundation
of our society. And I just dont believe
that anybody should take it unto himself
to violate the law, no matter what good
he thinks can be achieved, because you
can extend that right up to lynching.
Now. what Ellsberg did is for his con-
science to work on. I admire treme
dously his cour: ad braver nd his
fortitude in doing what he did. But 1
would never assign a man to do that
Tor CBS.
PLAYBOY: So à public good came from
something you oppose in principle.
CRONKITE: It’s пог clear yet that Elisberg
viokued the Lew. The trial is still on as
we talk today. Ellsberg, alter all
author of much of this n
participant in it, you know.
PLAYBOY; Whether or mor Ellsberg is
guilty of a crime, is there never an in-
stance. in your opinion, in which break-
ing the Jaw could be justifiable? What
about civil disobedience as practiced by
Martin Luther King?
CRONKITE: Clearly, there may come a time
when civil disobedience and protest
against what is considered an unjust Law
lu be considered proper. I'm inclined
to believe. though, that if I had to stand
on absolutes. Pd preter to stand on the
absolute of law and o
case as that. I think t
our society to correct injustice, and I
don't think that civil disobedience or
sticks and stones provide the way to do it.
Tm glad that things have worked out to
speed integration im this country; certain-
ly, for 100 years we damn well did far too
liule—didwt Чо апу fac Pn
glad we've finally gotten off our behinds
and gotten going here in the last couple
of decades. We have probably been
spurred to some degree by the demon-
stations that the great Martin Luther
King directed. So you've to say
well. it works on occasion

was the

tl, He wasa

dey, even in such а

means in

got
But 1 still
think the better way would be to do it

within the law.
PLAYBOY: The opinions you've just схе
pressed are stronger than а
delivered on the air
which seems to reflect. your v
the importance of remaining an objective
reporter. Yet you departed from that pol-
су when you returned [rom a visit to
Vietnam in 1068 and advocated an carly
negotiated peace in a series ol editor
at the end of your rightly newscast. Are
you glad you did it?

CRONKITE: Glad? I'm not sure. In a lot of
people's mir

у you've ever
about thi

issue—

ews abont

ls. it put me on a side, ote-
goried me in part of the political spec-
trum. And I think that's unfortunate, It's
a question in my mind naw, looking back,
weighing the long-term disadvantages
with the short-term benefits. When I

nt over there, I didn't know what I was
going to report back, actually. I didn't go
over to do a hatchet job. I didn't go over
un, to be against Ameri-
сап policy. 1 was leaning that way; I had
been very disturbed ever since the "65
build-up. I w y disturbed
over the lack of c Í the Administr:
tion with the American public, about the
constant misleading statements as to the
prospect of victory—the lightat-the-cnd-
of-the-tunnel мий. 1 thought—and 1 м
think—that was the most heinous |
whole Vietnam adventare, 1h
disturbed about the vast overkill.
about what we were doing to the people
ol Vietnam.

Bur even then, I was still living with
my old Teeling of sympathy tor thc ori;
inal commitment, in linc with Kennedy's
promise that “we shall support
friend to assure the success of libert
Nobody was kiddi himself about the
nature of the South V
but we thought we were trying to cr
conditions that would promote the
growth of democracy. give them a right to
self-determi ion. So I went out in
still basically believing in our policy but
i singly disenchanted with what we
had actually been doing over there ever
since “65. Then, after the Tet offensive,
Johnson amd Westmoreland and Mc-
(t

of
id also

any

алпске regi

were saying we had won a gr

you know, “Now we've got
them; this was their last great Шон.”
wd it was clearly untrue. That was

what broke my back. ‘That's why I felt I
finally had 10 speak out and. advocate
a negotiated peace
PLAYBOY: What do
«тес of your editor
CRONKITE: I think the effect was finally to
solidify doubts in a lot of people's minds
—to swing some people ove

you think was the

10 the side
of opposition to our conti
іш Vietnam. 1 must be careful not to
be immodest here. but | happen to
think it may have had an elect оп the
Administration isell

PLAYBOY: On President Johu:
CRONKITE: Y cs, although he denied that to
me personally, Not just about my re-
porting but about everybody

med policy

else's. In

fact, in our List conversation, ten days be-
fore his deat

«as he did in

he went over that ground
Imost every conver-
It weighed on him very much,
apparently. He talked about the Tet of
lensive and he a lot of people were
re it was Tet that really turned him olf,
d he said it wasn't so and that it wasn’t
my reports that did it, either.

PLAYBOY: Did Johnson ever confide in you
about h In the

interviews vou had

ag

sation.

feelings on the w
couse of those List
with him, did he say any
tradicted his public statements in office?

CRONKITE: No. never, H was one of the dis-
appointments of the interviews we did. E

that con-

thought, when he was out of office, that
he would let his hair down and say.
“Well, there were some points where 1
think we went wrong: there were some
things 1 did that I wish, looking back on
dn't done.” But that never hap-

pened,

ther in personal conversation or
in the interviews. And 1 chink th
In't entertain

because he d any such
thoughts. Our private talks were reasona-
bly personal. Fm sure he thought that they
were confidential, and therefore there
would have been no reason not to say it if
he felt it. He was a loquacious man in
person, and I believe these leelings would
have flowed if he had felt them.

PLAYBOY: Another about-ace [or you in
"68 occurred at the Democratic Conven-
tion in Chicago. It seemed almost а com-
ing-out lor you in a lot ol human ways. It
was as though you had gotten fed up with
being above the battle, You saw Dan
Rather get punched out on the conven-
ion floor and you made a reference to
thugs, And then you said you felt. bad
about having said that.

CRONKITE: Yes. Т did.

PLAYBOY: Do you still?

CRONKITE: Yes. E know that outburst kind
of makes me more human in the eves of
the public and therefore, perhaps, im-
proves the n that people may
д Fm not just an autom;
there gushing the news each
night. But I think that each network
ought to have someone who re
above the ale. CBS has 94 minutes of
news time every evening. 1 know 1 could
do 22 minutes of news just as objectively
as Fm trying 10 do it now. and then I
could put on another hat and for two
minutes E could give a scathing editori.
opinion, analysis. commentary, whatever
you want to call it. It would be right out
ol the h
day. and it probably would be a pretty
good piece, Fd like to think. What wa
revealed about me in those two minutes
wouldn't aflect the objectivity with which
I conducted myself for the 22 other min-
utes of that program. But 1 can't for onc
minute expect anvbody else-—except. per-
haps. another journalist—to believe that,
PLAYBOY: Some have discerned
traces of editor in other facets of
the space tights,
affectionately re-
astronaut.” and

have of me-

ton sitti

ally is

is and depths of my soul ca

your cover
for example. you wer
ferred to as “the oil
your enthusiasm was obvious

CRONKITE: Well, I cam see why they would
come to that conclusion. I dowi Fault
them for coming to it. 1 was a space boost-
er: d believed in that program. But Т
don't think that affected my тїйїлїп
the program, which 1 did c
sions. 1 thought they should. have gone

with an exea Mercury flight, der i

stance. There were a lot of things in Mer-
ашу and Gemini and Apollo—in i
matter of equipment and delays and some

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PLAYBOY

82

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TOYOTA

83

PLAYBOY

of the usual hardware problems—that I
didn't think were handled right. And I
talked about that during the space shots.
I didn't ever pull those punches. But that
in no way dimmed my excitement over
n in space. 1 think it was the most
Aventure of our time and prob-
ably of centuries; probably since the orig-
inal explorations of the New World, I
have no apologies to make for that.

Now, of course, it's fashionable to criti-
e all the money that was spent—"We
should have used it here on earth” and all
that sort of thing—but I still don't chink
that's right. If you could guarantee that
the 24 billion dollars would have been
spent on our cities instead of on spacc,
then I would be inclined to agree that the
money was perhaps not apportioned in
the right fashion. But you know it
wouldn't have gone to the cities. I think
history is finally going to have to make
some decisions on this matter. I think
that those who arc being critical are
going to have to cat some words before
the whole thing is over, because I think
we're going to find that space is terribly
valuable to us.
PLAYBOY: [n your coverage of President
Nixon's trips to Ch and Russia, did
you feel you even had a chance to be ob-
jective, or did you feel that you were
merely part of an entourage?
CRONKITE: Well. you can't help but feel
you're part of an entourage when you're
transported, fed, babied by management.
But I didn’t feel 1 was part of an ideologi-
cal entourage. They had my body and I
hoped they would deliver it back to the
ited States intact at the end of the
nips; but they didn't buy my br
soul. The problem in China was that, for
ing, there wasn't a hell of a lot of
nce to the trip. The great story in
China was clearly the Marco Polo aspect
of going in and sceing this country for the
first time, with live cameras in the streets
id that sort of
n't any substance we
could get hold of; we didn't know what
Nixon and Chou En-lai were talking
about: we weren't told. So the story was,
ао me, the President of the United States
being there and the pictures of the place.
That's what we covered. Yet people said
here we should have had more sub-

in and

1:

stance. So then we go to Russia, where the
story is all substance. I there was
one agreement after another—in a coun-

uy we had seen a hundred times on tele-
vision. And people said, “Why didn't we
get to sce more of the Soviet Union?"
PLAYBOY: On news events such as these,
you're not only a correspondent but part
of management as well. In fact, your
managing editor of CBS News.
How much editorial responsibility do
you have?

CRONKITE: It’s about like being managing
editor of a newspaper. When I assumed

that title, some of my friends in the press
were critical—not in their columns but
they suggested it was some kind of show-
business gimmick, a title that had. been
lifted from the ancient and honorable
print media. But when I pointed out
what I did, I think 1 pretty well con-
vinced them it was a sensible tide, I
participate in making assignments. in the
about what will be covered, fu-
ture programing plans—what we're going
to go after and, ultimately, what goes into
Ше program. And I edit the copy. Every
word that's said goes through my hands
and is usually touched by my hands in
some way. T edit almost every piece, re-
write many of them and originally write
some of them.

PLAYBOY: 1Г you were to quit tomor-
row

CRONKITE: There's a great idea.

PLAYBOY: Would the public get a substan-
tially different picture of the news from
CBS?

CRONKITE: Not really. I'm not sure,
though, that some of the things I eventu-
ally hope to accomplish around here
would be quite as easily and quickly done
by somebody else, because I think I've es
blished a certain degree of credibility
with the publi mployers as
10 my honesty and integrity. There's a
mutual trust there. On that р:
score, T may have a value beyond il
the daily broadcaster,

PLAYBOY: Actually, you're not only a net-
work newsman but a TV star. Docs that
status allect the way you're able to cover
astory?

CRONKITE: It’s a major handicap. Ther
an advantage to it, quite obviously, in
that 1 can reach people more easily than
а less-well-known newsman could. This
works around the world, I find. 1 get in to
see heads of state, usually through th
Americam representatives, ambassadors
or what not, just because they ve seen tele-

vision coverage. But, on the other hand,
just like the camera that appears at the
scene of a riot, when 1 appear 1 change

the nature of the situation. I can't go to a
bar and take in an average conversation,
it changes when I'm there:
Iking to the press.
me thing is true even whi
portant people. Yesterday а
journalist who was doing an interview
with a very important person in Washing
ton told me he thought that his interview
subject was arrogant and domineering.
Well, I haven't сеп either of these cha
acteristics >. My
id, “Well, he probably isn't that
way with you, With you, he probably
feels he's dealing with an equal. or has
some fear of your power, and therefore is
much more courteous, much more willing
to exchange ideas.” And I suppose that's
true. But T think if I have enough time, I
am break down most barriers. 1 think if

t this man, and I said.

friend 5

I went back to th
two or three days in a row, Га find that I
accepted ürly regular fellow
and the facade would wither away.
PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the per-
sonal side of being a television star? Do
you like to be recognized, sign autographs
and all that?

CRONKITE: Well, the autograph thing is
flatte that's exactly the word for it.
But it's exceedingly tiring, It'd be nicer if
you could turn it on once every few
months, as sort of an ego builder, and
then turn it off again, It's not fun to be
the center of atte m all the time. You
know that people's eyes are on you. My
wife and I like to dance, and we don't do
it very often, but just the other night we
were at a big occasion, an opening in
ew Yor d we were Joel Grev's
guests. In the carly stage of the evening,
at the Waldorf, we were dancing: but we
suddenly realized, heck, everybody's kind
of watching us dance. And that’s not fun.
I'm not an exhibitionist—at least not
quite in that sense. I'd like to be a song-
and-lance man; that's my secret ambi
tion, but
PLAYBOY: Wait a minute. You've always
wanted to be a song-and-dance man?
CRONKITE: I've always thought one of the
great things in life would be to entertain
people with songs and dances and funny
sayings. But it’s just a fantasy. Another
Walter Mitty dream

PLAYBOY: Has your wife enjoyed the
celebrity 1
CRONKITE: I think so, to about the same с
tent I have. That is, I can't deny it’s nice
getting a good table in a crowded rcs
rant without a rescrvation—a few emolu-
ments of that kind. But I think both of us
would have liked a more quiet life.
PLAYBOY: How do you escape? What do
you do for privacy and enjoyment?
CRONKITE: Well. I enjoy totally escapist
reading: J duck into hist I sea 5101
I enjoy the C. 5. Forester kind of stuff
—and there are 10.000 imitators of Ho-
io Hornblower who kind of keep ше
ag. It's about a simpler period, a ro
mantic period—strong men doi
deeds, and a rather simplified moral
1 that makes it rather casy to take.
I really enjoy solitude and introspection,
That's why 11 ling. I like sitting in
the cockpitol my boat at dusk and on
the night, gazing at the stars, thin
of the enormity, the universality of it all.
I can get lost in reveries in that regard,
both in looking forward to a dreamworld

au-

rat
gol

ade

nto

and in looking back to the pleasant times
of my own lif
PLAYBOY: Tell us about that dreamworld

CRONKITE: Oh. my dreamworld personally
is to just take off on that boat of mine
and not have to worry anymore about the
айайз of mankind, and about reporting
them, and taking the slings and arrows
from all sides as we do today, since we

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PLAYBOY

86

Alter ten
іш

can't scem to satisfy anybody.
years of it here in this particular spot

gets tiresome. I'd like to be loved, like
everybody else.
PLAYBOY: Do you feel the slings and

arrows personally?
CRONKITE: Yes, I do. Most of them aren't
directed at me personally, but they ¢
b me deeply anyway. And the criticism
ез from both sides, The conservative
pres picks up the Administration. line
and hammers that back at us: and thc
liberal press snaps at us all the time about
ve been bringing up
quite justifiably: about space, about ci
rights, about our coverage of the w
my dr
battles :

So
€ to fight the

anymore.

My dreams for the world are the same.
T get fi

иги about what the world is com-

to. You know, most people are good;
there aren't very many really evil people.
But there аге an awful lot of selfish ones
And this selfishness permeates society. It
keeps us from the beauty of where we
could go, the road we could travel. In-
stead of being always on these detours
and bumbling aloug side roads that take
us nowhere, we could be on a smooth
highway to such a great world if we could.
just put these selCinterests aside for the
greatest good of the greatest number. It
pplies to the industrialist who puts out
a product imo which he builds obsoles-
сепсе, and to the guy up in Harlem who
throws his garbage out the third-loor
window. 11% everybody's fault. 1 just find
it hard ro understand how man could

с хо far, how he can be so damn smart
1d at the same time be so damn stupid.
PLAYBOY: You iot alonc
couraged wih contempo

we live in "postcon
They view with particula

s the tendency tow:

ica.
such trends
regulated. unlimited surveillance. Wi
your opinion?

CRONKITE: 1 can't decry it enough. I just.
don't see how we can live that way. It's
not Americ

It's so terrible
ced there's going to be a
jon to it. 1 think we've come
can to living in a kind of
dI say chaotic
ny central head-

great revu
as close.
chaotic. police
because it doesn't have
quarters; everybody's doing it. We're 1
ing in a state where по one can trust
telephone conversations, nor even his
perso ions in a room, in a bar
oranywhere else.

PLAYBOY. Have you ever suspected that
your phone was tapped?

CRONKITE: Oh, yes. My home phone and
the one here at my office. I think anybody
in the public eye—even in private bus
ness—who believes that his conversations
are sacred today is living in a fools
paradise.

5 wi

atte

conversi

PLAYBOY: The Justice Depariment, in
utilizing such taciics as bugging, stop-and-
frisk searches, no-knock raids and pre
tive detention, has claimed these steps are
necessary to control crime. Do you agree?
CRONKITE: I think this erosion of due proc-
ess is reprehensible. Of course, we do
have a crime problem in this
country, з no doubt about that
We've got to take olf our gloves and
somchow or other wade into this problem
of crime and [ace quite openly its rela
tionship to the slum living conditions of
a large part of our population, and the rc-
sultant welfare circumstances. in which
they live, the resultant slippage in moral
standards—that is, honesty. integrity, hard
work and all those old fundamentals.
PLAYBOY: The increase of street crime has
been blamed by some on Supreme С
decisions that conservatives feel protected
the rights of criminals at the expense of
their victims. More recently. it’s been the
liberals who have attacked the Court, par-
ticularly since its decisions have begun to
be redirected by its Nixon appointees.
Where do you think the Supreme Court
is headed?
CRONKITE: Reading the past and looking at
this Court now, in view of the most recent
major decision, the abortion decision, I
think it’s impossible to predict the course
of the Supreme Court. And I think one
makes а mistake to do so. I think in our
history we've been very lucky in our Su-
preme Court Justices, even as we have
with our Presidents. For different rea-
sons, perhaps, but the system seems to
work pretty well. I've been appalled by
a couple of recent Supreme Court. de-
ns, but I wi lled by a couple of
Warren Court decisions, too.

PLAYBOY: What decisions of the Burger
Court have you found appalling?
CRONKITE; Well. primarily the matter of
subpoena of newspapermen and their re-
sponsibility to reveal sources. I think that
was disasrous, absolutely disastrous, But
where the Court is going, where it’s going
to ond is anybody's guess. It’s a more con-
servative Court, to judge by its perform-
; but look at some of the
people who, after coming on the Court,
have taken. positions that seemed a
lutely antithetical to their past records.
Justice Hugo Black was one of the most
controversial men to go on the Supreme
Court, I suppose. And he turned out to be
one of the greats.

PLAYBOY: Ist the current Court among
the most political іп American history?
CRONKITE: Well, I suppose that people of
liberal persuasion would be inclined to
think that, even as people of a consen
tive persuasion were inclined ıo think
that the Warren Court was a terribly po-
litical Court. I'm very hesitant about crit-
icizing the Supreme Court at this point. I
think it has every promise of being a fa

псе so

жо-

Court, if it goes down the line. I'd hate to
prejudge it at this stage.

PLAYBOY: Are you concerned about back-
the enforcement of
isions in the arca of civil rig
CRONKITE: Well, yes, though 1 don't know
that it's any more than a swing of the реп
dulum. But it's to be regretted, because E
believe we were making progress. As lor
busing. though, Гус got to be honest
about it: That never scemed to mc to be
Ше right solution. E think brcaking down
housing putterus—mixing up the neigh-
borhoods, to use the phrase of some
people—is the a rather than put-
ting kids in bu three. four and five
hours a d те whether you're
black or white, the m ighborhood school
is a fundamental concept. Admittedly,
I've always believed that you must break
down the patterns of segregation and
prejudice duough schooling: you've got
t with the child. But I think that
s hard as it's been to sell to
people. is too easy a solution. I think that
other solutions—like housing integration
and equal employment. opportunity—
may be tougher, may take longer, may be
more expensive, but I think they've got to
be better

PLAYBOY: Would it be fair to describe your

po: wc relations—and
other issucs—as middle of the road?
CRONKITE: 1 think it probably would. 1 just
don't understand hard-shell, doctri

most

ion on

people not seeing both sides, not seeing
the justice of other people's causes. 1 have
a very difficult time penetrating what
motivates such people. I'm speaking now
of the particularly militant left as well as
the particularly militant right. But Fm
also speaking of people in that great cen-
ter, whom I sometimes despair of when
they accept so glibly the condemnation
of other factions within our society—
whether it’s welfare people or the rich.
There are many people in this silent
America who are bitter against the rich.
We forget that. You know, from my
Midwestern background, 1 know the
Archie Bunkers of as City; they're
really basically my own family. I know
exactly how they felt about all oth
walks of society, the lower classes as
s the upper. Unless you were a $
rec Mas ig on Benton Boule-
Missa

little wro
PLAYBOY: With that kind of background,
where did you get your sense of fairness?

CRONKITE: From my parents. My father was
a liberal when he was a young man.
Though he's basically kind of set in his
ys, € inclined to be,
he was terribly upset over the treatment
of blacks when we moved to Texas.
He went down to teach at the University
of Texas Dental School in Houston, and

wa

older people a

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PLAYBOY

88

also to practice. And the very first crack
out of the box, the first social occasion we
went to, we were sitting on the porch of
this rich sponsor down there, in a fancy
section of town—such a section it
didn't have alleys—and we ordered ісе
cream. In nobody had a
freezer, so you ordered it from the drug-
store. / ery boy brought.
it over

There wasn't 8 I say, and he
parked his motorcycle out in front of the
place and walked up the frone walk,
ross the lawn. And this fellow sat, with
ape obviously building in him, and
watched him come up the walk. When
this young man set his foot on the first
step of the porch, this fellow leaped out
of his chair and dashed across the porch
and smacked him right in the middle of
the face. He id, “Thatll teach you
niggers to walk up to a white man's front
door" And my father got up and said,
“We're leaving.” We almost went back to
Kansas City. Growing up in the South,
one's attitudes are affected quite seriously
by such early experiences.
PLAYBOY: Do any other such experiences
come to mind?
CRONKITE: Well. there was another
that also involved ice cream. This

one
ne
1 was the drugstore delivery boy: I did
bicycle del 1 а couple of
blacks who used motorcycles for more d
tant orders. They were both great guys
One of them was a particularly close
friend of mine—as close as you could be
Ше environment of Houston at that
me. We weren't about to go out to-
gether anywhere, but we were good
friends at the drugstore and sat out back
and pitched pennies and shot crap and a
few th

'eries and we

а very nice guy, came
His mother w
washerwoman, his father was a yardma
but they had great dignity. He had three
or four brothers and sisters. Anyway, one
night, as he parked his motorcycle and
was walking between two houses to d
liver some ice cream to the back door, he
was shot by one of the occupants—the onc
ordered the ice cream. He was
а Peeping Tom and the murder
ed justified. Incredible. 1
guy was no more a Peeping
1 was—maybe less so. Of
course, if he'd gone to the front of the
house, the guy who ordered the ice cream
might have shot him. I almost never got
over that case.
PLAYBOY: Whict
a journalist?
CRONKITE: About the time T started junior
high school. T became the happy victim of
childhood Walter Mittyism, and it's nev
really gone away. The American Boy
magazine ran a series of short stories on
carcers. They were fictionalized versions
of what people did in life. And there were

за

who
listed
was consider

did you decide to become

only two that really fascinated me at il
point. One was n engineering and
the other was journalism. Anyway, 1
started working on the high school paper
in Houston and 1 found that was what I
wanted to do. In fact, that's really all I
wanted to do. I didn't want to go to
school anymore. But I did. 1 worked my
way through the University of Texas in
Austin as newspaper reporter and did
a little radio. Did a lot of other things,
100, such as working in a bookie joint
lora while.

PLAYBOY: What was you
CRONKITE: Announce
PLAYBOY: In a bookie joint?

CRONKITE: On the publicaddress system.
When they hired me, they said. “You sit
back here in this room, and as the stuff
comes over, you read it out over the P. A.
system.” Well, Га never been in a bookie
so I gave them the real Gra-
ham MacNamee approach on this, de-
ng the running of the race. A mean
icter ran the place. a guy named F

job there?

nd he looked like one. He came dashing
o the r

What the hell
c doing? We don't want
nt the facts!

you think you
entertainment, we just w
PLAYBOY: Your first critic.
CRONKITE: Yeah!

PLAYBOY: When you got out of school
cor

ing to your bio, you joined United
Press and later covered World W

nd among the dispatches you

Two
lor them,

filed was one from the belly of a Flying
Fortress during а bombing raid over

northern Germany. Under those circum-
stances, was it good copy?

CRONKITE: Well, it had a dramatic lead.
Homer Bigart, who was then a correspond:
ent for the New York Herald Tribune,
nd I were at the same base, We were
ag for the boi

ber command head-
ters, outside London, to be debriefed
Lover Germany. We
"Homer, Т
nk Гус got my le: st returned
from an assignment to hell. А hell at
17.000 feet, 2 hell of bursting flak and
ing fighter planes, " I just recited
it 1 don't know if you knew Homer
Bigurt, but he stuucred very badly in
those days
put his hand on my

"d hc turned to me and
m

"Y-yyy-yy-you wouldn't.”

PLAYBOY: Did the expe
nything about war?

CRONKITE: 1 didn't need to be taught any-
thing about war. I had already learned
about it. But I still. didn't understand
—and don't understand today—how men
сап go to war. It's irrational, it’s unbe-
evable. How can people who call them-
selves civilized ever take up arms a
each other? T understand how
civilized people can carry gur
PLAYBOY: Were you under
corresponde
CRONKITE: Lots. People take a look at my

ice teach. you

don't eve

fire as a

record, you know, and it sounds gı
I'm embarrassed when I'm introduced lor
speeches and somebody takes a CBS hand
ош and reads that part of it, because it
makes me sound like some sort of hero:
the battle of the North Atlantic, the land
ing in Africa, the beachhead on D day.
dropping with the 1014 Airborne, the
Battle of the Bulge. Personally, I feel I
was an overweening coward in the war.
Gee, 1 was scared 10 death all the time.
did everything possible to avoid gening
into combat. Except the ultimate thing of
not doing it. I did it. But the truth is that
I did everything only once. It didi
any great courage to do it once. If you
back and do it a second time—k
how

‚ you stayed on in
Europe with United Press, finally геги!
ng to this country in 1948. Two ye:
later, you joined СВ News in Washi
ton, as a corr lent. Since CBS is a
large. competitive organization, how did
you m е to rise to your present post
tion there?

CRONKITE: ] was just plain old lucky to be
in the right place at the right time. But
I think that to take advantage of luck,
you've got to have some ability to do the
job. As far as the ability to work on

solute accident, 1 nev
just lucky to have it. Whatever it is, it
seems to work. J was also ambitious as a
young man and pushed myself along, not
to become president of United Press but
because I wanted to be where the story
was. So I pushed to get where I could
go. And I guess the whole thing just
built up into a store of expe
with experience came а certain amount
of knowledge.
PLAYBOY: In the years since you've be
reporting the news we've seen
America’s belief in its own rightness and
invincibility crumble, its moral sense lost,
or at least misla: been shattering
10 you—as а man who believes in the
system—to see appen?
CRONKITE: No. not shattering. Um still sit
ing h nd doing my work; I'm not in
institution- although. maybe
me think I should be. But it has eaten at
me. Sometimes I think about carly r
simply to get out of the daily flow
ble world we seem to live in.
g? 1 have to say no. I think
though, thi ybe Tm nor as
© as I ought to be, that J ought to
have gone nuts by now, covering all of this
and seeing it firsthand. I sometimes won
der if maybe I'm not really a very deep
thinker or a deeply emotional individual
PLAYBOY: Are you serious about carly
retirement?
CRONKITE: Oh. 1 don
pen, at least not in il

of this

suppose

11 hap-
ple future
thy ex

I've just negotiared a rather lei

tension of my contract.
PLAYBOY: So you wouldn't have accepted
that Democratic. Vice-Presidential offer

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PLAYBOY

90

we heard about, had it been made by
George McGovern.

CRONKITE: Хо, I don't think so. Well, I
don't know. I don't know what I would
do with a political opportunity if it actu-
ally came down the pike.

PLAYBOY: Would you really have сопзі
ered it?

CRONKITE: Well, if it were seriously ten-
dered—and this is all so hypothetical,
because it never was, you know, let's be
perfectly honest about it. As T recon-
structed it, the McGovern people were
sitting around in a meeting and some-
body simply s: Look, I just saw a
poll t nkite was the
. what about
him?” And I think that's just about as
far as it went. Nobody said that there
were loud guffaws, but it would have
gotten back to me directly if they had
gotten any more serious than that. If
they had gone any further with it,
though, they would have uncovered the
fact that I'm not cred. етос
Im not a registered anything. Im a
total independent.

PLAYBOY: Do you have any other skeletons
in your closet?

CRONKITE: Well, I'm just not going to talk
about them!

PLAYBOY: Have you ever scen yourself as а

regi

Well, 1 must admit I've seen
myself as a Senator. T sec it in a very ro-
mantic way, jousting [or justice and that
sort of thing, on the floor of the Senate.
But I don't know how effective I'd be in
the political infighting. And I think we
forget how hard public servants work.
When you see them in action іп Wash-
ington, you appreciate that they work
awfully hard, Jong and tough hours. It
must also be the most frustrating job
in the world, spinning wheels as they do
so much of the time. I really wouldn't
tke all of that. Far less
want to be President. Even
1 were temperamentally suited for the
job, which I'm nor, I wouldn't regard
myself as qualified—except perhaps by
good intentions.

PLAYBOY: Do you think Nixon is quali-
fied for the job—temperamentally or
professionally?

CRONKITE: Well, whether or not I agree
with some of the things he’s done as Presi-
dent, there's no question that he's had
plenty of experience to qualify him for
the job. As for his temperament, 1 think
it’s regretable, particularly for а man in
his position, I guess 1 just don't under-
stand a man like Nixon—the completely
ivate man, To sta Imost.
hold your hands up у. "Don't come
апу closer"—that bothers me in anybody,
whether it's President Nixon or my next-
door neighbor. It must be terribly sad

want to und

would І су

and lonely to be so aloof, to be unable to
throw one's arms around onc's fellow
man and hug him to you. I think Pr
dent Nixon would like not to be that
way: I think he'd like to be an outgoing.
lovable man. But he knows he's not; it's
not in his make-up. Somewhere in h
genes, he just didn't come out that way. I
think it bothers him, and I think it may
affect a lot of his thinking.

You understand that I'm doing this
analysis from about as remote a position
can have. As you well know, T
actly one of the inner cirde. As a
matter of fact, I'm cut off from the White
House today, presumably because of my
outspokenness about the war and about
Айта ks on freedom of the
press. T regret this very much. I'm very
sad, at this stage in my professional Ше
where, rightfully or wrongly, T have
acquired а laige audience and some
prestige—that people in high places
aren't inclined to invite me into their
groups.

On occasions when Гуе been with
President Nixon—and they've been
rare. countable on the fingers of one
hand—T've had a tremendous feeling of
wanting to reach out to him. I wanted to
kind of help him. 1 wanted to say, "Look,
let's let our hair down and talk about
these problems." 1 have no doubt that
this man wants to do what's right. But, as
I said, I think what he's trying to do in
several cases is absolutely dead wrong. 1
think that the attack on the press is so an-
titheticil to everything that this country
stands for that Т just can't understand it.

I would love to be able to shut up
about all of this. I don't want to stand out
here as a spokesman for the free press
against the President of the United States
and against his Administration. "That's
not a comfortable thing to have to do.
tacks haven't come from our side,
though. c the troops in the
trench during a cease-fire that's being vio-
lated by the other side. You know, if we
could just lay down our arms and say,
“Come on, the Constitution says we have
free speech and a free pres, and broad-
casting ought to be a part of it; now let's
just admit that and acknowledge that this
is the way this country has always run,
and let's run it that way.” Gosh, that
would be great.

I just don’t understand why the Ad-
ministration took this position in the first
place. The press wasn't that anti-Nixon
n "68 or '69. I think most of the liberals
in this country would say the press was
cozying up to him, if anything. And yct,
whammo, this whole explosive attack on.
the press. It all gets back a little bit, I
think, to the President's. personality, to
his remoteness. He has never been able to
sit down with newsmen, put his feet up,

му

get out the bourbon bottle and say,
"Come on, gang, let's have a drink; you
guys sure laid it into me today." Th
the sort of thing that goes on all over
Capitol Hill every afternoon. And I think
that because President on can't do
that, his aloofness grew into coolness, into
misunderstanding of the press, and then
mo antagonism toward the press and
eventually into a campaign against it.

PLAYBOY: Why does so much of the public
seem to acquiesce i:
something about the times we live in?

CRONKITE: I think you put your finger on it
right there. It's a res
people are never соті
of revolution, I think they try to re
some sense of security through the use or
threat of force. But force isn't the main
stay of our democratic system. Dialog-
debate is and that's regarded with
suspicion and indifference by most people
at this particular moment in history. I
suppose it’s only human, when you're
acked imo a corner in debate, to get

the room a
what's happening today. Demands for
law and order are translated into sup-
pre: As I id befe I believe in
Jaw and order, not as a code word but
as а keystone—along with freedom and
justice—of the democratic process. We've
got to stand for law and order. But when
the effect of maintaining order is to chip
ay at the Bill of Rights, to suppres
ent and debate, then I think we're
in very serious trouble.

1 think these charges by Ше Adminis-
tration fall on receptive cars in much of

ion.

our country, among so many classes of
people. because they feel so afraid, so
unable to understand, let alone cope
with, the tumultuous times we live in, so
helpless to hang onto the values they were
ht to believe іп, so threatened by the
revolutionary changes they see going on
around them, that theyre looking for
scapegoats—and the press is а handy
one. Irs tragic that they can't see the
press as the bulwark of their own fre
dom. I suppose the only reason I keep
g. the only reason T haven't been
shattered by all this, as T said earlier, is
that basically 1 have hope that it’s all
going to turn around. In time, I. think
there'll be a new tolerance, and with it
will come a strong resistance to all of
these pressures against our liberty.
PLAYBOY: Where will this resistance come
from?

CRONKITE: T ih

people. Y.
resilience

k itll come from the
know, we've shown amazi!
Ш these y

rs of the America

experience. We go through these dark
periods, but eve

tually we come back
ing light of day. And I think
Карай.

into the sl
we'll come һа

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DO WITH ME
WHAT YOU WILL
fiction By JOYCE

CAROL OATES

“Then what?”
“J got very - .. I got
very excited and.
id she look at you?”
“Yeah. And it made
me want to. ... It
made me want to go
after her, you know, lik
grab hold of her.
Because she was think-
ing the same thing. She
was afraid of me and
she was thinking. .. .
“She kept lookin,
back at you?

Yes. Back over her
shoulder. I got so excited
that I just followed her,
I mean I must of
followed her, I don't
even remember my legs
going. . .. It was just
her, looking back over
her shoulder at me, like
checking on me, and me
following her, just her
and me and nobody else
onthe street. [never
saw nobody else. I just
saw her ahead of me,
buc I didn't even see her
face, I was too excited.”
“When did she

start to run?"

Sor her it was a
brutal attack, for
him a question

of identity

“Oh, my, I don't know,
1... - I guess it was by
.. uh. ,. that drugstore
there, what is it, some
drugstore that. . .. Well,
it was closed, of course,
because of the late hour.
Uh... some name you
see all the time. ..."

Junningharn
jh, yes, yes. Cunning-

ham's. But I don't know
if I really saw that, Mr.
Morrissey, so clear as
that .. . any place ағай
-..like I know the
neighborhood upward
and downw: butt
wasn't watching too close
at the time, Because I
had my суе on her, you
know, to see she couldn't
get away. She was li
a fox would be, going
fast all of a sudden,
and damn scared. ”
‘That makes them clever,
when they're scared."

“Then she started to
run? Where was this?”

“The other side of
the drugstore . . . across
a street. . . . I don’t
know the names, but
they got them written

ILLUSTRATION BY ARTHUR PAUL

PLAYBOY

94

down, the police. They could tell you.

“I don't want any information from
them, 1 want it from you. The inter-
section there is St. Ann and Ryan
Boulevard. Is that where she stried

what they said. ..
That's what she said. She told them
п she started to run. did you run?"
yeah.

“Right away’
"Yeah, right away

“Did you stut running before she
did?

“No. 1 don't know."

"But only after she started т
ning

“I think se

“Did you? After she started running,
but not before?”

"Yeah."
“Wae there any cars waiting for the
light to change at that intersection?”

“I don't know .. . I was in а frenz
22. You know how you get, when things
happen fast, and you camt pay atten
tion... L ... I saw her running and
I thought to myself, Рон ain't going to
gel away! 1 was almost ready to laugh
or to scream out, it was SO. . . . It was
so high-strung a few minutes for me. .
“Did she run across the street, or out
Ito the street?"

She... uh... she started scream-
ing. . . . That was when she started
screaming. But it didn't scare me off.
She тап out into the middle of the strect

2 yeah, T can remember that now . . .
to the middle, where it was very
-.. Г remember some cars waiting
for the light to change. now. But I
didn't pay much attention to them

Then what happened?"

“Well, uh, she got out there and some-
thing like, like her shoe was broke, the
heel was snapped .. . and she was yell
ing at this guy in a car, that waited for
the light to change but then couldn't get
away because she was in front of the car.
And... uh... that was a... a Pon-
с Tempest, а nice green Car, . . . And
s а man and a woman, both white.
as yelling for them to let her in
But when she ran around to the side of
the car, and grabbed the door handle,
well, it was locked, of course, and she
couldn't get it open and I was just wait-
ing by the curb to see how it would go
22. and the guy, he just pressed down
that accelerator and got the hell out of
there. Man, he shot off like a rocket. I
had to laugh. And she looked over her
shoulder at me where I was waiting. you
know, and

“Yes, then whit?"

“Well, then. Then I, uh,
There wasn't anything to
pretty tired by then, and. . . . T just
grabbed her and dragged her back some-
. you know, the way they said...
she told them all the things that hap-

I got her.
she was

pened... . | can't remember it too cl
myself, because I was crazy
laughing because I was so high, you
know. I wasn't scared, cither. 1 felt like
a gencral or somebody in a movie,
where things go right, like I came to the
edge of a country ог a whole continent,
you know, and naturally I wouldn't
nt the movie to end just yet..."

"But you don't remember everything
happened?”

“I don't know. Maybe. But no, | gu
not, Im
in a frenz

“You signed a confesion.”

“Yeah, Т spose so. I mean. 1 wanted
10 cooperate a little. I figured they had
me anyway, and anyway I was still so
high. I couldn't come in for a landing. 1
wasn't scared or anything and felt ус
good. So I signed it.

“Did they tell you you had the right
10 call ап attorney?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

j... You know how you get

"You had the ıt to counsel... > Did
the police tell you that?"
“Right to counsel. . . . Yeah, 1 heard

something like that. I dont know.
Maybe I was a little scared. My mouth
s bleeding down my neck.
“From being struck?
"Belore they got the handcutfs оп me.
1 was trying to ger away. So somebody
got me in the face,
"Did it hurt?
"No, naw. I didn't feel it. 1 started
getting wet, then one of the policemen,
the car, he wiped me off with a rag.
because it was getting on him. I don't
now if it hurt or not. Later on it hurt.
The tooth was loose and I fooled
around with it, wiggling it. in jail, and
took it out myself; so T wouldn't swallow
it or something at night. My whole face
уой up afterward. . ..”
“So you waived your right to counse
“I don't know, I guess so. If they s
that, then I di
“Why did you waive your right to
counsel?
1 don't know."
“Were you pressured into
"What? I don't know. 1... uh... I
mixed up and a litle high
Did you say, maybe, that you didn't
have any money for a lawyer?"

wa

Uh... yeah. In fact, 1 did say that,
yeah. I did."
You 4

“1 think so

"You did say that."

“I think T said it..."

“You told them you couldn't afford a
lawyer.”

“Yeah.

And did they say you had the
to counsel anyway? Did they say that if
you were indigent, counsel would be
provided for you?
паеш
“Yes, indigent

I you didn't have

гу for a lawyer, you'd be given опе
ay. Didn't they explain that. to

“Indigent. They didu't explain. that
to you, did they

“About what?

“IC you were йн
be provided for you."

“Indigent. .

“Indigent. Did they use that word
Do you remember it?”

“Well, uh Lots of words got
wed... e

“Did they use the word indigent? Did
they explain your situation to you

“What situation? . . . T was kind of
mixed up and excited and.

"Апа they had been banging you
around, right? Your tooth was knocked
out .. . your face was cut . . . your face
swelled up. . . . So you signed a confes
sion, right? Alter Mrs. Donner made her
accusation, you agreed with her. vou
signed a confession for the police, in
order to cooperate with them and not be
beaten any more. T think that was a very
natural thing to do under the circum
stances. Do vou know which one of the
police hit you?”

“Oh, they all did, they was all scram-
bling around after me... . Damn lucky
I didn't get shot. 1 was fearless, I didn't
know shit how close I came to get
killed. Jesus. Never come in for a k
ing ІШІ the next day. Т was so high
Pulled the tooth out by the roots and
never felt it. But later on it hurt like
hell. .. . 1 couldn't remember much."

“Were you e 4 by a doctor?”

"No."

“A dentist

“Hell. no.

“Lers see your mouth What
about those missing teeth on the side
there? What happened to them?

“Them, they been gone a long time.”

“It looks raw there.

“Yeah, well 1 do
looks what?”

"It looks sore."

“Well, it might be sore, I don't know
Му gums is sore sometimes. They bleed
sometimes by themselves."

“What happened to your mouth?

"I got kicked there. Two, three
ck.

“Your mother told me you'd had some
trouble back in your neighborhood, off
and on. and I sce you were arrested for
some incidents, but what about
trouble with a girl . . . ? Did you ever
get into trouble with a girl?”

What girl?
Your mother says it was a girl in the
neighborhood.”

ent, counsel would

t know. , . . It

some

"Yeah.

Yeah wha”

Yeah, it was a girl, а ¢ never
made no trouble for me. Her father was

(continued on page 190)

"Seventeen pieces o[ eight isa bit steep for
just one piece, ain't it?”

96

in the hollow comfort
of that elegant old hotel,
everyone in vietnam seemed

“the dust of life”

article

By GLORIA EMERSON

NO ONE WAS REALLY INVITED to room 53
in the Hotel Continental except for two
with each
other. One was an Am in, the other
was North Vietnamese. 1 did not want
people in that room. It was a place to
take account, to listen to yourself.

The ceiling seemed more than 18 feet
high and an old French fan hung from
it. You could make those blades turn
"vite" or “moins vile.” I turned the fan
on sometimes despite the sickly air con-
ditioner with its rumbling cough. The
walls of the room were green stucco that
did not yield to any nail. I had brought
the yellow scersucker bedspreads with
me to Saigon and 11 books | never had
time to read. (Once, waking, I lit a

soldiers in armies at w

RLUSTRATION BY MICHAEL PETERS

سے

БЕЗ |1

А

ho
t

қы

PLAYBOY

98

cigarette and then stubbed it ош on
Saintenys Histoire d'une Paix Manquée.
I don't know why.)

There was a palm tee in the room
that 1 had bought in a Saigon market. I
watered it too much.

On many mornings in Vietnam—I

had 730 of them—1 woke up in places
far from Saigon and the trembling air
conditioner and the shuttered high
dows that were taped to prevent the
glass from breaking in case of rockets or
mortars. But when 1 was there, a room-
boy brought me café au lait and two
croissants. 1 ще breakfast like а woman
with a wired jaw, so much did I dread
ing to leave that room and face it all.
at in a huge green armchair
are of the French colonials—
by a window. There was a German down
the hall who twice called me up very late
at night, pleading to let him into my room
because he needed to talk to someone, he
said, | never saw him leaving his room
the mornings.
Once I came back to room 53 with a
man's blood all over my shirt and skirt.
The roomboys, lying on their mats in
the hall, said nothing, for they had seen
it all before: the correspondents rushing,
out in the mornings, ‘thick necklaces of
ameras and lenses over their chests, and
coming back. much later, filthy and si-
lent and spent.

The stains on me were the blood of
Mr. Loan, a Vietnamese driver for a
rented white car (an Oldsmobile?) who
had been hurt on an April night when we
were ambushed on Route One. It was not
even eight р.м. but night in Vietnam be-
gan at five. lt was I who had insisted һе
Keep driving and he knew of no way to
lence me. The big white car must have
startled the Viet Cong who were mining
ihe side of the road. They opened fire
with B-40 rockets and AK-47s. We crawled
out of the car—I was slow. fumbling for
my bag—and hid in a slight gully by
Route One. Mr. Loan and I lay very
close together, so his blood wet the pale-
blue stuff of my dress. He was almost on
top of me. Perhaps he could feel my
tremors and hoped to comlort me. There
had been no time earlier that day to put
on blue jeans and sneakers and push back
my hair with The South Viet-
namese had gone into Cambodia
1 followed them to Pra
1 lay on the earth of Vietn
let its insects explore and punish me.
Sometimes when Mr. Loan lay too still, I
thought the arm across my back belonged
to a man who was dead.

The next morning 1 reached the hotel
and, unable to bear those dark bloody
blotches on me, 1 called the roomboys
for salt, quick, salt. Sel. You always need
it to wash blood, A roomboy
brought a bucket of ice instead. It was
what the Americans always seemed
to want

hay

scarf.

ur.

out

Blood. Sometimes Сі in the feld
would talk about it. The enemy did not
bleed enough and they almost com-
plained about it

"The dinks don't bleed—why, I see
more blood when I cut myself shaving,”
a GI from North Carolina said. 1 did
not correct him.

There were two yellowy plastic flow-
ers on шу desk in room 53. А Vietn
ese woman had given them to me. I
could not bear to throw them away. She
was the wife of a middle-class retired
civil servant named Ba. Their three sons
were in the army.

Mr. Ba did not much like my ques
tions, They were especially vexing for
him in the evening when he wanted to
watch The Fugitive or Bonanza on the
AFVN (Armed Forces Vietnam Net-
work) channel. His Japanese-made tele-
vision set was put back into a large box
when these programs were over.

Yes, yes, he said patiently, he and his
wife were aware ol protesters who demon-
strated in America against the war.

“We think these must be worried
mothers,” Mr. Ba said.

I thought of him almost three years
later, on Inauguration Day, when a crowd
stood on Pennsylvania Avenue yelling,
“Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!” as the girls
on the floats and the bands marched by.
No worried mothers there.

No one else ever slept in room 53
until I lent it to a СІ named Dennis,
whom 1 had found at Tan Son Nhut air-
port in Saigon, where he was trying to
sleep on a bench. There was a big rip i
the canvas of one of his boots. He wanted
a Coke, but you needed piasters in the air-
port restaurant, His flight was delayed
lor 36 hours. He was going home on
leave and he wasn't sure he would ever
want to live in the United Statcs aga
maybe Australia was the better place, I
was quitting Saigon for a week. so I told
him to use my room. I always felt like
Mary Poppins among those huge, tired
children in the U.S. Army and it vas
the country boys I liked the most. (But
it did not always pay to be too nice, to
show too much concern. I remember the
GI who began to cry telling me why he
wouldn't be sent on the line again, hold-
ing up the hand on which the tips of two
fingers were gone. And even when they
were much older, you had to be distant.
There was the major who asked me to
ke off my scarf on a helicopter ride at
ht so my hair would blow.)

When I got back, Dennis’ boots were
there and a pile of his underwear and a
copy of his travel orders. The roomboys
had even washed his boots, not knowing
that Americans were proud when their
boots turned that reddish brown, for it
showed, as nothing clsc could, what they
had endured. He had not read the books
by Giap or Bernard Fall or Jonathan
Schell. There was a note on top of The
Strawberry Statement and 1 kept it for a

ni

very long time. It was difficult to read.
Punctuation confused Dennis.

1 just want to thank you very much
for helping me out. Also 1 like to
say that just knowing theres people
like you around to help the small
guys has given me new faith in
people. I still dont know how 1 feel
about going back to the States
That book The Strawberry State-
ment. From what I read seem to be
about the way most guys feel. 1 wish
Twas man enough to stand up and
say what I feel. May be one of these
days I will. Well I guess I better be
going. Thank you. Dennis.

‘That was not all. On the book he had
written in pencil, "Keep truckin’.”

The roomboys could not say why he
had left his boots behind and if he had.
left barefooted for the airport. They
seemed eager to report that Dennis һай
brought a whore to room 53. But not a
young and pretty one. It was that that
made me flinch.

"Vieille. Pas bon," а roomboy, who
was in his mid-50s, said. Old. No good.

In the last month of that endless year.
nothing in the room spoke of any season
at all. or of how many had died, or of
anything I had seen. You knew it was
Christmas because people sent you cards
and there were fake Christmas trees sell-
ing in the streets for the foreigners to
buy. There were always paintings of
Jesus Christ on sale. But not as many of
him as of women with preposterou
breasts and shiny hair, because Ameri
cans liked these ladies very much.

It was surely the month of Christmas,
because Archbishop Henri Lemaitre,
apostolic delegate то Vietnam and Cam-
bodia, visited the prisoner-of-war camp
for the Vietnamese at Bien-Hoa, although
nearly all the men cared nothing about
the birth of Chi ‘They were Buddhists
and Buddha's birthday was in May.

American reporters were allowed to
witness his t. I went there with Tom
Fox, a young American who speaks
fluent Vietnamese. А long time after-
ward I understood why it was a more
ening day for him than for me. It
was his Church that shamed him.

There were large signs at the entrance
to the Bien-Hoa camp. MAY THE CHARITY
OF CHRIST ВЕ EVERYWHERE (in French),
FOREVER MAINTAIN THE HIGH HONOR
or THE Mitirary (in Vietnamese) and
BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME
OF THE Lorn (in Latin).

We were warned

Several hundred prisoners had been
standing for more than two hours belore
a stage when the press corps arrived at
midmorning. We stared at them, photo-
graphed and filmed them. Interviews
were a violation of the Geneva Accords,
which were carefully observed, the Viet-
namese officials said again and again.

(continued on page 106)

it’s no big flash that
many “men’s” jobs
have become fair
game—we just

want to reassure

you that anatomically
everything is status quo

woman’s

You're leaving your office
for lunch and walk past a
cluster of female construc-
tion workers on their noon
break. They're spooning
up lowcal yoghurt and
reading “Dear Abby" to
each other, but as you pass
by they look you over and
oneofthem—a large-boned
girl wearing construction
platforms—whistles and
shouts lecherously, "Hi,
guy—nice ass ya got there.”
In an America that has
already weathered a lady
umpire. can that scene be
far away? We think not. The
following pages lend sub-
stance to our prediction:
they also provide reassuring
evidence that, even if wom
en do take over the coun-
пуз pneumatic drills, some
of them will still get pissed
when they break a nail

Chicago jockey Mary Bacon
hes overcome many obstacles
—and a few broken bones—in

her determination to do a

man's job. Her husband,
Johnie, was also a jockey, and

the horse-rocing commis:
ruled that they couldn't be in
the same business, because
they wouldn't be able to tes-
tify ogainst each other in
case a protest was filed against
either of them. So Mary got a
divorce. “Тһе first race | rode
against him,” she says, “1 won.
The second time, he won—and
1 received five-day suspension
for cutting him off at the turn.”

Nothing personal, Johnie.

pictorial

PHOTOGRAPHY BY 2. FREDERICK SMITH AND DAVID CHAN

"Men are just as uptight as
women are abaut exposing
themselves,” says San Francis-
co's Corol Fulton, who should
know. She photographed this
year’s highly successful mole-
nude calender, Ladies Home
Componion. "But they're also
concerned about haw they'll
look," she adds, proving that
vanity knows no sex. She's had
only one bad experience with
her subjects. “I drove up to
this guy's place to photograph
him and discovered that he
was anticipating on argy.”
Carol canceled the shaot
“Besides, he lied ta his.
to got her out of the house.”

San Franciscan Cynthia Cal-
houn says her job os a woman
of oll work for a sign company
draws plenty of stores from
men. “1 was walking down
Market Street the other day
carrying a five-foot ladder and
а toolbox. 1 got lots of angry
looks from men. I think they
felt threatened.” But she’s used
to that. “When I was o draft-
ing student in highschool, guys
got mad when I received the
highest grades. They thought
the teacher gove them ta me
becouse I was on attractive
girl.” We don't doubt your
obiliry, Cynthio, bur we do
understond their suspicion.

"| want an Academy Award
for best picture,” says Pam
Sweet, a Hollywood producer
of X-rated films, who’s con-
vinced that such a dream isn’t
at all impossible. But she alsa
warns those who think riches
await anyone who shoots a
few scenes between a horny
hausewife and a guy in a Lone
Ranger mask: “We lost money
or broke even on our first six
or eight films." Still, Pam thinks
producing sex
way to get a big break. "Russ
it. He moved
from nudies to the big studias
and it’s happening more
and more all the time.”

сїз is a great

Meyer starte

If you're an actress looking
for work, the woy ta go about
it is simple: Take a job as a
New York cabdriver. Well,

it worked for Betty Ortega.
“When a guy got into my cab
he'd ask, "Why are you doing
this? I'd say, ‘I’m an actress
trying to pay ту bills.' “ Such
а conversation with a casting
director won Beny a recent
movie role. Now, between.
parts, she attends Columbia
University ond drives on Sat-
urdays. "The bad thing
about New York trafic," she
says, “is that you spend most
of the time sitting still." Which

Betty obviously doesn't enjoy.

The most striking feature in
Bernie Roberts’ strikingly dec-
orated Los Angeles men’s hair-

styling salon is Lynn Goyle.

Lynn hos been cutting men's
hair at Bernie's for two years.
She alsa halds a beautician’s
license but prefers male heads,
although she does tire of
dudes who came on with such
clever lines os, “| think it would
be freaky to have an affair
with my barber.” Still, there
оге rewards beyond her
charge of ten dollars a clip,
for she gets ta run her fin-
gers through some famous
hair: “Му clients include Glen
Compbell ond Peter Falk.”

Ann Lella has been a bartend:
ег ond carpenter and now
works in New York os on or
tique-furniture mover. "I got
into the business," she soys
with a line that sounds like it
соте from a Bravtigan book,
“when a friend ran into some-
body in a grocery store who
was shopping for food ond с
mover-irucker.”’ Although she
works with an all-male crew,
Ann does her share. "Most of
the ontiques are so heavy we
have to dismantle them and
move them piece by piece.”
Ann admits it's tough work but
soys thot for the time being
she'll "keep on truckin'.

106

BU DC шегеле

The prisoners—you could mot call
them men, for there were children there,
shifting from leg to leg in the hot sun

—had been given new pajamas to wear,
so new they had not been washed ог
creased. We gawked at them, those lines
and lines of Viet Cong, but only the
smallest turned their heads to gawk
back. One boy with a scar on his neck
could not help snickering at us. It made
Fox and me feel a little better.

There were 4400 prisoners in the
camp. Only the wounded or mutilated
were North Vietnamese. One thousand
nine hundred of the prisoners were 17
years old or younger. Major Ma Sanh
Qui said the youngest were 13 but,
perhaps remembering how sentimental
some Americans can be about children,
refused to say how many there were.

Twentyseven women and ten men
over the age of 60 were also prisoners.
We were not allowed to see the women.

"There were speeches. The prisoners
did not look alert or interested or
pleased when the archbishop spoke to
them. But they solemnly followed in-
structions from officers. Applaud. Cheer.
Bow. Salute. Applaud.

No prisoner who was handed a gift by
the archbishop leaned over to kiss his
ring. Perhaps they did not dare. Perhaps
it was because there were only 133 Cath-
olics in the camp. The prisoners received
litle plastic sacks—some cigarettes, a bit
of soap, a cloth towel, a colored picture
of the Pope and some loose crackers that
had already crumbled.

Ah, what the archbishop and Fox and
I saw that day. Two amputees, once
men the National Liberation Front,
had been assigned to show off new
wheelchairs that they had never used be-
fore that day. I watched one of them with-
out legs and with a wrecked hand try to
steer his wheelchair in small circles. He
kept bumping into the other man, who
had two hands. I could not watch for
very long.

We saw the archbishop say Mass in
the chapel and we toured а compound
where the most ruined men were kept
As the archbishop entered these rooms,
an officer snapped: “Attention!” The
men looked up. It was the most they
could do. The archbishop spoke to some
prisoners through an interpreter. Fox
looked angry and ill. 1 tried to pity the
archbishop, whose pallor was strange
and whose eyes seemed too pale-

There was a blind man whose sockets
seemed empty even of their lids.

ARCHBISHOP: How long have you been
here?

PRISONER: Three years. 1 can only
move when someone takes me about.

ARCHBISHOP: Where are you from?

PRISONER: Thanh Hoa.

ARCHBISHOP: Have courage.

An aide kept asking if there were any

Catholics in these wards, but the Viet-
namese did not know. The aide looked
displeased.

The archbishop spoke to a boy whose
body ended just below the hips. “Do you
want to go home?”

PRISONER: Yes. But the situation in
Vietnam does not permit it. I have had
no news from my family in Quang Tri.
I studied in North Vietnam. .. -

ARCHBISHOP: Have courage, my son.

‘The sickest men Jay on wooden beds
and some turned their heads away when
a television crew filmed them.

There were cold Coca-Colas and little
cakes for the press. a little party when
the tour was ended, perhaps to remind
us of what a pleasant performance we had
just seen. Vietnamese officers spoke baby-
talk English to Americans who spoke
Vietnamese. I wondered if the man in the
wheelchair had been told he could stop.

I took Fox to the office, where there
was а bottle of Martell cognac from the
PX. I had never drunk cognac before. It
seemed time to start.

The room was dim and cool. Fox said
he had pressed an officer at the camp to
explain the presence of a large group of
young Vietnamese girls who were wan-
dering around, giggling and keyed up.
They were members of a Catholic youth
organization.

“The major said, ‘The girls come here
as a matter of freedom. They come for
the fun of it" Fox told me. “For the
fun of it.”

The North Vietnamese soldier—who
must have weighed no more than 115
pounds—came to my room that Decem-
ber, for we could not meet in the office.
Twice he came to the room and sat in
the green armchair. At first he was sus-
picious of its fat arms and high back
and its deepness, for in all his life he had
known only benches or straight backed
wooden chairs.

His name was Tien. A Vietnamese
man told me in English what he was
saying. Tien had been captured in a
"liberated" village in Quang Nam Prov-
ince a few months earlier while he was
convalescing from malaria. His recovery
meant working in the rice fields with
the villagers. His face was so round, so
unlike the beautifully boned, sharper
faces of the Northerners, that it may
have been swollen from his illness. His
hair looked very dry and stood from his
scalp like the bristles of а used-up brush.
He could have been 16. He was 21.

So ill had Tien been that he could
not walk quickly up the stairs of the
Continental.

It was his legs that startled me, not the
illness that had almost killed him. From
his feet to his knees there were scars
from the ulcers and sores no man could
avoid moving down the Ho Chi Minh
Trail through the jungles of Laos. For

three months, in a company of 115 men,
he had made the long march south.

“We walked eleven hours a day and
the longer we walked the more bored
and morose we became,” Tien said
“There were many things I missed. First
1 wanted а real cigarette. Then. I want-
ed to see my mother, 10 be close to her.
And then, what I wanted badly was a
whole day of rest."

After his capture, he had been flown
to Tam Ky in a truc thang, the Vienam-
езе term for helicopter. The words mean
up and straight. Tien had felt а fear he
could hardly describe.

seen were the two pilots. They looked
unbelievably tall. So very huge. But they
smiled down at me. I don't know why.
Some of my panic went away."

І could not imagine chopper pilots
smiling at any prisoner, but this is what
Then Tien asked if he could
ever ride again in a truc thang. Т said it
was not likely.

He had dreaded being beaten by the
Vietnamese who interrogated him at
Tam Ky, but they were nonchalant. He
was even allowed to contact rich rela-
tives in Saigon who had left the North
many years before and it was decided
that he would declare himself a hoi
chanh, an enemy soldier who defects
under the Open Arms program and is
not treated as a prisoner of war. Tien
had not defected to anyone, of course,
he had simply been too weak to run
away from a South Vietnamese platoon.

The last time he had seen his parents
was on a June day in 1968 in his village,
all that he had ever known, which was
50 miles south of Hanoi.

“They gave a small feast for me the
day I left home to go into the army. My
father, who is a farmer, was unable to
speak. There were no words in his
throat. My mother could not help weep-
ing. And I wept, too. As I left, she said:
"You must go, I know that, but try to
соте back." "

In his village, there were no men who
had come back. There were no letters
from any of them. Before 1968, men
going south had been granted 15-day
leaves, but these were canceled. No family
knew, or wondered aloud, who had been
wounded or killed.

Tien spoke often of his mother, as no
young American soldiers had ever done
with me. They mentioned their parents
and I remember the doctor who told me
of the words of a GI who had lost both of
his legs and part of an arm, who lay on a
litter and asked: "Will my parents treat
me the same?"

Tien was telling us how he had
dreamed on the Ho Chi Minh Trail of
being a small boy again, back in his vil-
lage, talking to his mother, when a
roomboy came in with my laundry. Sai
gon was a city of informers, so I spoke to

(continued on page 182)

eri
ЛТ

THE WRITER AS POLITICAL CRAZY

truth, beauty, totalitarianism and other sublime things

WHEN STALIN GOT THROUGH purging his fellow Communists in the Thirties, a Russian once said to
me, it was noticed in Moscow that no one left in the Politburo was taller than the boss.
now a heretic but once an important Yugoslav Communist, reports in his memoirs of the Kremlin
scene that at the all-night banquets that were a regular feature of the jolly life under Stalin, death
warrants were gaily passed around the table and that members of the in-group could fill in any name
they liked. By the time he died, in fact, Stalin had personally signed at least 50,000 death warrants.
But Stalin was a madman who killed more Communists than ler ever did and helped bring оп
the 1939—1945 war by sicking Hitler on France and England. This, as another Russian once said to me
in Russia, was “a piece of folly for which we paid” with 30,000,000 lives. Hitler, of course, was an
in private, where it was his pleasure to have women urinate
in flames—and by his utter

even greater madman in public than he уу
and defecate on him. He destroyed millions of lives, brought Europe do
lack of political restraint or foresight assured Communist control over almost half of Germany
icians, statesmen, leaders of helpless masses of people can of course be
y cruel, outstanding nuts, vicious in the name of race or class beyond anything in the usual
booby hatch. And you don't have to believe that this is the final conflict, as Communists do. or in the
n, as Nazis did (and no doubt still do), to note that even in our noble democracy,
ot

and all of eastern Europe. Polit

final soh
President Kennedy, who was notoriously anxious about his machismo, was stung by that crude but

article By ALFRED KAZIN

CONSTRUCTION BY DON BAUM

108

stupid psychologist Khrushchev, after their famous con-
frontation in Vienna in 1961, into more militancy than
he had ever intended. Johnson hysterically described
himself as “the chief of the free world” and went so mad.
on an unwinnable war in Vietnam that he destroyed his
Presidency and his own passion for racial accommoda-
tion in this country. Nixon’s closest aides have said that
he became angry when negotiations with the North
Vietnamese broke down at the end of 1972. That
anger was amazingly costly to a great many B-52 crews
and innocent residents of Hanoi.

Still, politicians are notoriously unbelieved and mis-
trusted—especially by those who disagree with them.
And we live in an age of such political fanaticism, cru-
elty, unceasing violence, mass destruction and we are so
helplessly bombarded by propaganda and extremism
from every side that politics, classically the domain of
the common good, the public realm, the general wel-
fare, has become as frightening то many people as dicta-
tors, authoritarians and zealots themselves.

But we expect more, don't we, from writers and
“intellectuals”?

One day in 1942—that was several wars ago—I
wandered into a CBS studio to see a friend who moni-
tored foreign broadcasts and found him staring open-
mouthed at a transcript he had just made. "You've
always praised Ezra Pound to me as a master of lan-
guage,” he said bitterly. "Will you kindly put your eyes
on this?" The transcript was of Pound's twice-weekly
broadcasts to America on the Italian Fascist radio,
which my friend had started taking down the day Pearl
Harbor was attacked.

The first thing I saw was a reference to Mrs. Roose-
velt’s consorting with “niggers.” More than 30 years
later I remember that 1 felt amazement more than any-
thing else as I read these pronouncements by one of the
original poets and master critics of the 20th Century,
the writer most responsible for making “modernism” in
literature part of our lives:

gs often do look simple to me. Roosevelt is
more in the hands of the Jews than Wilson was in
1919. (December 7, 1941)

Politically and economically the U. S. has had
economic and political syphilis for the past 80
years, ever since 1862. And England has had eco-
nomic syphilis for 240 years. . . . (February 3, 1942)

"That any Jew in the White House should send
American kids to die for the private interests of the
scum of the English earth . . . and the still lower
dregs of the Levantine. .. . (February 19, 1942)

What I'm getting at with all this. What am I get-
ting at? Which? What? What? Which? (February
26, 1942)

My job, as I sec it, is to save what's left of Ameri-
ca and to help keep up some sort of civilization
somewhere or other.

Ezra Pound speaking from Europe for the
American heritage.

F. D. R. is below the biological level at which the
concept of honor enters the mind. (March 26, 1942)

It becomes increasingly difficult to discuss
American affairs except on a racial basis,

Don't start a pogrom—an old-style killing of
small Jews. That system is no good whatever. Of

course, if some man had a stroke of genius, and
could start a pogrom up at the top, there might be
something to say for it. But on the whole, legal
measures are preferable. The 60 kikes who started
this war might be sent to St. Helena as a measure of
world prophylaxis, and some hyperkikes or non-
Jewish kikes along with them. (April 30, 1942)

Pound died in Italy at the end of 1972. The case of
Ezra Pound, as English professors called it in collec-
tions of documents set up for freshmen to study, would
seem to have been over for some time. And right now,
the left-wing writer as political nut is certainly sitting
more heavily on our minds than Ezra Pound. Just re-
cently, for example, Jean Genet said in an interview:
“What makes me {cel so very close to [blacks] is the ha-
tred they bear for the white world; a hatred comparable
to my own for the world that scorned me because
1 was a bastard, with no father and no mother, a
creature . . . rejected just as they are today because
they are black. ...

"My rebellion and my scorn took for their bounda-
ries the boundaries of the French Empire. Now it ex-
tends to the enüre white empire and to its mainstay,
which is the U. S. A....I rejoiced to see France attacked
and invaded by the Germans. It pleased me to sec the
country that had oppressed me so oppressed in its turn.
. . . Despised by Frenchmen, 1 felt and I still feel a
bond to all that they regard as despicable. . . . All my
life, all my work, isin fact a settling of scores with white
society. І am always оп the side of the strongest.”

But the case of Ezra Pound will not disappear from
the minds of those who know what a good poet and
marvelous critic he was. It illustrates as no other writ-
ers’ cases do in our time—not even those of the writers
who shared his Fascist views, like the great French
novelist Louis-Ferdinand Céline, or the master writers
who were equally reactionary, like T. S. Eliot, D. H.
Lawrence, W. В. Yeats—what madness, obscenity and,
above all, self-destruction total intemperance on the
subject of politics can visit on an extraordinary writer.

Everybody knows that Pound was indicted for trea-
son by the U. S. Government, was kept in a steel cage in
an American military prison near Pisa and, alter being
flown back to the United States, was judged by Govern-
ment psychiatrists mentally unfit to stand trial, and
that he spent 12 years in St. Elizabeth's Hospital for the
criminally insane, in Washington, D. C. In 1958 (thanks
mostly to Robert Frost's influence with the Eisenhower
Administration), Pound's indictment for treason was
dismissed. He returned to Italy, where (out of step with
the mob, as usual) he gave the Fascist salute as he
disembarked. In his last years, Pound subsided into
what was, for him, the most amazing act. He refused to
talk at all.

Pound is still an issue, as is shown by the recent con-
troversy over the refusal by the American Academy of
Arts and Sciences to grant him the prize conferred by its
own Emerson-Thoreau committee. That is because his
poetry will always be important and yet was as damaged
by his intellectual violence as his life was. No one has
ever claimed that Pound’s scurrilous, vituperative but
more often incoherent broadcasts to his native country
influenced, or could have influenced, to acts of treason
any American citizen who was not already a money
crank and obsessive hater of (continued on page 136)

"Miriam, you could at least wait until I'm out of sight!”

WILSON AV LEAN

ГЕ

А

TEACHNGS GRINGO
OF WAY OF

DON WON

parody By LAURENCE GONZALES л: 1 recall,
on the day 1 turned my brother's enemy into an arma-
dillo I met Don Wow, the legendary medicine man of
Los Angeles. Up until then I had been a normal Yaqui
Indian sorcerer in the hot country of Arizona, making
the desert tremble, taking "peyote" and working every-
day miracles along the Mexican border. Under the
tutelage of Don Wow, new worlds were opened to me
and my accepted notions about the world and its work-
ings were utterly and permanently changed.

What follows are excerpts from all three pages of my
voluminous field notes, taken over a period of several
years while Don Wow was my benefactor.

March 54, 1960 Sunderday 1700 hours: Don Wow
had taken me for a long ride on what he called his

“Harley-Davidson,” showing me the incredible beauty
and wonders of the world he lived in. We had traveled
east all day and were turning back when an ambulance
went by with its siren on and its lights flashing.

“That's an ambulance,” he said without emotion.

I immediately demanded an explanation. He just
looked at me, but I continued to press him for informa-
tion. Finally, he said, “An ambulance carries sick
and or injured people from the place where they are
to a doctor. It's a kind of car."

1 found my head reeling with the impossibility of
this concept. His world was so clear and precise that I
could not make heads or tails of what he was saying. I
asked him if an ambulance was the same thing as a
crow. He explained to me that an ambulance was, in
fact, nothing at all like a crow. “A crow, for example,
has feathers,” he said in a way that made me think that
an ambulance was, in fact, a crow, as real and black
and hollow-boned as any crow I'd ever seen. It was the
look in his eye that I noticed. 1 offered him my hand-
kerchief and he removed it from his eye, continuing to

KNOWLEDGE

deline the differences between a crow and an ambu-
lance: An ambulance has overhead cams; a crow eats
corn; an ambulance has steel-belted radial tires; a crow
doesn't have running lights. .

April.32, 1960, Saturday, 147 pm: 1 was sitting at a
point due east by southeast from Don Wow. Over and
over again that day I had noticed that the heel of his
right shoe had a tack in it, obviously picked up while
he was walking. I was certain Don Wow was actually
aware ol the tack, but for some strange reason I could
not bring myself to ask him about it. Finally, I undid
the handcuffs from behind my back and managed to
peel off the adhesive tape he'd placed over my mouth as
patr of my studies.

"Do you know there's a tack in your shoe, Don
Wow?" I asked, my voice shaking with suspense.

“No,” he said in a way that convinced me he knew
he had a tack in his shoe and wasn’t telling. Lying to
me was an essential part of his teachings and 1 caught
him red-handed this time. I demanded an explanation.
He said he really didn’t know and assumed such an air
of total innocence that I laughed out loud. The last
thing I remember was seeing him pick up his totem
baseball bat and raise it above my head. When I awoke
I was being held by the collar while Don Wow poured
ice-cold water on my face and told me, “Get your shit
together or I'll send you back to Sonora, where you can
eat water rats for the rest of your life.”

Februday 24.3 o'clock, Friday! 1 had finally con-
vinced Don Wow to teach me about an important
gringo practice I'd heard of that he called "money."

We went to a large building called Merrill Lynch,
Pierce, Fenner & Wow. The ritual was already in prog-
ress when we arrived. Several men about the same color
and shape as Don Wow sat in chairs watching pictures
of numbers and letters that (continued on page 116)

the red-skinned sorcerer
lives ina
humdrum world of
mind-shattering experience,
but with proper
tutelage he can attain
undreamed-of wonders:
money, booze,
color television —
even indoor plumbing

11

This dynamic duo hos
chanced орап a found object
that’s definitely not drift-
wood. The fellow on this
poge heads shoreward in

a multicolor stretch-nylon

bikini, by Sabre, $18.

inset: He cansoles a
friend who appears to
have lost everything ta the
outgoing fide. He's hung
onto a poir of geometric-
pattern stretch-nylon
trunks, by Jantzen, $8.

y ПӘОУЛВГВПЕТТ ТП CREEN

seeworthy wettables
for getting in a watery groove

attire]

The Spitzrik at right is
delighted to see something
other thon on oil slick рор
vp where sond meets seo. His
rig: a multicolor-stripe

knit Crimplene bikini, by
Altmonn of Vienno, $17.

Inset: Scorning personol safety,
a selfless helpmeet gets her mon
out of the hot sun, ing

him with a floral-print

Arnel-nylon pongee kimono,
by Bouncing Bertho's
Banana Blanket, $28.

"WIEN Tr comes to this year's look in men's swim-

wear, the time-tested Mies van der. Rohe dictum
"less is more" certainlysapplies. There's othing
really new about fale Бікііз, Өй course; Euro-
pean men һауе been wearing them for years. Now

the trend to surface economy has ht on over
here and guys with good bods "are chuckingaheir
balloon ае Boxer-trunks" and John i ШЫ

уап-іуре Baggies and jams in favor of a suit
that’s more revealing. So, gentlemen, the time
has come to take it off, take it almost all off—and
slip into'somerhing that dogs your build. justice.
We don't have ro say what it will do to the ladies,

PRODUCED ВҮ WALTER HOLMES | PHOTOGRAPHED BY DON А?има 113.

This page: Updating his
favarite scene in From Here
to Eternity, this surt

sport daybles his pleasure
with a brace of beached
mermaids, He's gone down,
tothe sea ina pair of
chambray stretch nylon.
square-legged trunks, by Sabre
$16.95; and a multicalored
striped cotton knit long-
sleeved pullover, by Sabre
of London for. Cezar Lid.,
512.95. Opposite: It's a.
brief but warm encounter .
for another hip gentleman.
who's wearing cotton humble
cloth bur-cur low-rise

swim trunks with an,
obviously handy pocket, by
Surf-line Hawaii, $10.

PLAYBOY

TEACHNGS OF DON WOW

moved on boxes in the walls. The men
didn't say anything. Neither did we.
"Then we left.

"What was the meaning of my experi-
ence?" I asked as we got into his powder-
blue Excalibur.
here is no meaning of your experi-
ence. The numbers represent prices of
various stocks. If the prices are up in the
right stocks, we are happy. Sometimes, if
they're up enough, we sell and make a
profit. If they're down, either we buy or
we are unhappy. It's very difficult to ex-
plain to someone who knows nothing. If
you want to learn about money, you must
have an unbending credit rating.”

Suddenly I understood. On many vigils
in the mountains of Chihuahua, I had
met with the shadows of spirits that in-
habit those hills. In the valley of water J
had called them. If none came, I some-
times had to sit for days with no food
to sustain me. If they came, we communi-
cated and I went home to store the power
they had given me.

"If I give you a dollar, for example,"
Don Wow continued, “you could leave
it in the bank for a year and then have
a dollar and four cents.” My mind raced
back to a time when 1 was a small
child. Without my mind it was impossible
to continue taking notes on what Don
Wow was telling me. With a sharp blow
of his baseball bat, however, Don Wow
snapped me out of my trance.

J asked him what a dollar was and he
pulled cut his wallet. He told me that
within his wallet were powers I could
not imagine. I could, he said, if I had his
wallet, go out and acquire incredible
things: a lube job, push-button tele-
phones, lunch at French restaurants, 90-
day renewable notes on personal loans
for money that I could take to the place
of the money rituals and invest in certain
stocks that were bound to give me a better
return than any bank could ever hope
Бис...
I became dizzy and absent-minded. My
mind held onto very confusing images
both of having the power in his wallet and
of acquiring incredible things, neither of
which was clear to me. Suddenly the two
images merged for a moment and I had a
Clear vision of cach separate power in his
wallet, suffused with a brilliant iridescent
green light. The light undulated and
fused into distinct lines, which radiated
from each power to the incredible things
it could acquire. 1 immediately saw that I
could speed along the American Express
line toward major hotels in downtown
Los Angeles. At the end of the line were
long tables overflowing with foods of
every description, and opportunities for
extended vacations to Detroit and Pitts
burgh. power places Don Wow had
described to me. All along the Bank Ameri-

116 card path were the great halls of clothing

(continued from page 111)

and vaulted rooms of major appliances, as
well as а miniaturized calculator for kcep-
ing track. As I tried to hold the image
and follow other lines radiating from his
wallet, I faltered, became distracted by a
small photo of his first wife and lost the
image completely. My perception re-
turned to one of Don Wow sitting there
with a strange look on his face, asking if
I was feeling all right.

“Maybe you ought to put your head
between your knees,” he said with a per-
plexed look.

He then gave me a dollar and 1 wept.

2 Thursday March 3456 times pm: 1 sat
on the floor with my feet 14 centimeters
apart. Don Wow was sitting on the couch
with his legs crossed at a 34-degree angle
He tapped his fingers on the marble
tabletop in six-four time, at about 120
beats per minute. The tapping had а
strange mesmerizing effect and I knew he
was doing it to induce a special State of
Ordinary Boredom in me.

Then he got up and went to the organ.
He had explained to me earlier that he
sent away for a course of instruction from
Berkeley School of Music and that 1
could take lessons with him if 1 liked.
When he depressed the first key, the
sound seemed to be coming from my
right, a low-pitched humming like a ba
tone cricket. Suddenly the note was inside
my head and I was carried off on it as if
I were being pulled along in the current
of a stream.

1 traveled along this note for hundreds
of miles, soaring through the air and ob-
serving the landscape in awe. І could
hardly believe my eyes. Soon there was a
loud buzzing and to my left 1 saw three
fighter planes peeling off in formation
toward the southeast, their silver under-
bellies winking at me in the slanting rays
of sunlight. 1 knew that what 1 saw was
the wink of my death advising me and
that 1 would die in a fire storm at an
altitude of 3100 feet over Magazine. Ari-
zona, in the next Indian uprising, That
thought caused a tremendous surge of
self-pity and I passed out.

1 awoke lying in the guuer in front
of Don Wow's house. I found it incred-
ible that I could have gouen back so
quickly and gradually made my way to
his front porch by using my abdominal
muscles to slither across his lawn like a
snake. I finally arrived at about ten in the
morning.

“What's that crap all over the front of
your shirt?" he asked as 1 approached.

In an unexpected moment of anger, 1
accidentally turned Don Wow into a live
400-pound hog. I immediately realized
my mistake and we spent the next few

g him to his natural State
Iness. As a punishment
е act, Don Wow took
away my dollar. A profound feeling that 1

would never learn his way of life over-
whelmed me.

Once Upon A Time: Don Wow had
structed me in the use of a special mi»
ture that he referred to as “booze.” He
also called it “Cutty Sark.” Ht was his
mechanism for coming in contact and
communicating with a spirit he referred
to as “Little Hooch,” which appeared to
me after my first three days of trai
with “booze.” Whi awoke
morning, I felt an overwhelming nausea
and a pain in my head, as if enormous
pressure had built up in there. When 1
opened my eyes, to my amazement, I saw
small pink coyotes traversing the corridor
between one room and the next. As if in
a trance, I watched them roaming around
for what seemed like several hours before
1 fell asleep again.

“What is the meaning of my experi-
ence?” I asked when Don Wow returned.

“The booze’s been working, that's
ай”

“You mean those were real coyotes?”
Vo, they weren't real. You just saw
them.”

“But if they weren't real, how did 1
see them?"

“That's what a little hooch can do.”
His explanations were always terse and
to the point. ‘The “booze” training con
tinued throughout the next few months.

January 1964: As usual, he gave me the
usual dose of Cutty Sark. As usual, | vom-
ited, with the usual results. But this was
an unusual State of Ordinary Usualness.
1 found that by doing the usual thing and
making certain unusual alterations in the
basic pattern 1 could actually experience
an unusually usual state that was almost
like looking at television. Don Wow's face
was made up of litle colored dots that
moved faster than the eye could follow. It
was extremely unplea:

He explained to me that the pcople in
the television were not really in the
television.

“Do you mean that we are seeing
people who aren't there?”

“Well, they are there, but they aren't
there.” he said, indicating the television.

"You mean that they can be both there
and not there at the same time?”

My mind, unaccustomed to such states,
refused to believe that a thing could be
as Don Wow said it was. U ding
that a man could become a crow and fly
dreds of miles was difficult enough

dersi

te,” Don Wow inter:
тарту жиен ing attempting agai
to explain. “See Howard Cosell there, the
one with the orange suitz" I saw the man
g to eat some sort of large

арау E Eu agility amazed me.
"Is he also a legendary

“No, he's a sports announcer.”
(continued on page 246)

YD 0

(У

y `
uM

"Hi! I'm Robin Hood and these are my merry men.

umso Suryjduv ш 707194 42n2u
pinom a {тї of pouini эү
3] гү] (Q 01041740 9417”

ruthy ross centerfold debut caps a hectic year as queen of the cottontatls

FOR RUTHY Ross, Playboy Bunny, ex-drama major, would-be actress and apprentice
photographer, it's been quite a year. Quite a 16 months, as a matter of fact. It all
started back in February 1972, when she was chosen to represent her fellow cottontails
from the Los Angeles Playboy Club at the annual Bunny Beauty Contest. That event,
a lavish pageant at the Playboy Club-Hotel at Great Gorge, New Jersey, took place in
March. Twenty-one girls—the pick of Playboys hutches throughout the world—
competed, and when it was all over, Ruthy Ross had won the title Bunny of the Year—
1079. " "Surprised'?" she recalls. "I didn't think I had a chance. No sleep the night
before the finals. Thought I looked a wreck, but apparently—and luckily—the judges
didn't agree." Since then, Ruthy's been juggling her regular Bunny duties at the Los
Angeles Club with special promotionzl appearances; singing and dancing dates in the
Club with the Bunniettes, а cottontail septet; driving lessons (to make use of her
Datsun 1200 sports-car prize) and such personal interests as studying photography and

Ruthy, who admits she dotes on Forties geor
(left), also digs music. Above, she shokes mean
maracas with Pleyboy Club musicians. Above
right, her Bunny of the Year contest fincls.

moving into a new house-cum-swimming
pool in suburban Reseda. Now, her crown
relinquished to a successor (chosen as this
issue went to press), Ruthy is enjoying
what she considers the biggest triumph of
all: becoming a Playmate. She's so enthu-
siastic about being a gatefold girl, in fact,
that she's energetically boosting another
Hollywood Bunny for a future spot in the
magazine—and using her new camera
skills to shoot the test photos herself.
Alter her selection as Bunny of the
‘ear, Ruthys first stop was Chicago,
where she got a much-needed few days
of relaxation as Hugh Hefner's guest at
the Playboy Mansion. Next came an ap-
pearance at the premiere of the rock
musical Today Is a Good Day to Die at
the Playboy Plaza in Miami Beach, fol
lowed by a visit to Baltimore to appear
on a radio talk show—the subject of
which was "The Sexual Revolution—the
New Morality and Sexual Exploitatioi
(Ruthy said she didn't see what was sin-
ful about sex between "two people who
care for each other.") Back in L.A., she
did a turn as Ring Bunny (“I held up

the cards saying ‘Round One,’ ‘Round

Two, and so forth") at a celebrity box

ing match between former middleweight
champion Sugar Ray Robinson and Bob
Hope, held at Hope's Beverly Hills estate
as a benefit for youth organizations. And
when the Los Angeles Tennis Club staged
a tournament on behalf of spastic chil-
dren, Ruihy was there, greeting such
celebrity players as James Franciscus,
Charlton Heston and Ross Martin. “Crazi

est thing 1 got mixed up in was a pillow
fight, of all things, with a disc jockey from

Bakersfield. He had tried to challenge Joe
Frasier, but he settled for me and two
other Bunnies. It was wild." Texas drew
our star Bunny twice—once for the open-
ing of a Playboy Products boutique in
Dallas, once to appear at a sports show in
Houston's Astrodome. "We had a ball
there,” she says, “Bunny Bevy and I had
rolls of Rabbit-head stickers, and we stuck
them on everybody who walked by. We
were the hit of the show!”

Ruthy. who comes from a small town
in Missouri and studied drama at the
U of Mo. for two years, started her Bunny
career at the Kansas City Playboy Club.
She transferred to Hollywood in 1971 and
is now looking forward to the imminent
opening of that Club's new quarters in
Century City. "Century City is really be-
coming ‘uptown’ for L-A., and it's where
the action is,” she says. "Besides, we'll
expand our hours to include luncheon,
and I think I'd like to start working days.
"There's a wonderful futuristic community
theater in my neighborhood, and I'd like
to get started working in it, but all the
meetings and rehearsals are at night,
which is when I've been working. I know
I have some dramatic ability, but it’s a
little raw—it needs polish. And I don't
really have the money to go to a private
«oach." What about her Playmate model-
ing fee? “That.” says Miss Ross firmly,
going into the bank. I believe in being
prepared for a rainy day. Guess I'm
old-fashioned that way. What with that
and my love for funky Forties clothes, 1
sometimes think I was born thirty
years too late.” No way, Ruthy. Can
you imagine a Bunny of the Year—1942?

Ruthy, with other gotefold girls, wos a hit
on a Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour (below)—
during which, in both Uncle Som costume ond
choir robe, she cought the eye of Joe Namath.

GATEFOLO PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO САБИ

As Bunny of the Year, Ruthy found herself in constant de-
mand. She fronted the Bunriettes (top left), a group of sing-
ing and dancing cottontails at the Los Angeles Club; met Jim
Nabors (along with Playmates of the Yeor Liv Lindeland,
1972, and Lisa Baker, 1967) at a Sugar Ray Robinson Youth
Faundation benefit at Bob Hope's home (center lefi); had her
cuff autographed by TV's Joe Campanella at the same event
(above); appeared ол KCOP-TV’s Dialing for Dollars with
Dave Reeves (bottom left); and got acquainted with Charlton
Heston at the Los Angeles Tennis Club’s tournament for the
Los Angeles area Spastic Children's Foundation (below).

MISS JUNE

Е. end
*

Tx

l o IET
ШЙ ИШ!!!

Above: At the Astrodome in Houston, where she was promoting Playboy products at a mammoth sperfing-goods show, Ruthy dem-
onstrates a Rabbit-crested Frisbee—only to fall from grace while trying for o shoestring catch on o wild pitch. Below: On the flight
home to Los Angeles, Ruthy grabs a welcome bit of sleep with fellow cottontail Bevy Self (lef) and Bunny Mother Judi Bradford.

PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES

A тап came home sporting a pair of shocs
he'd spent $75 on that day. He had antici-
pated admiring comments from his wife, but
she didn't even appear to notice that he
had them on. Somewhat piqued, he waited
until she was in bed later on, and then
marched into the bedroom stark naked except
for the fancy footwear. “It's about time you
paid some attention to what my peter is
i at,” he announced, striking a pose.
Looking down at the splendiferous shoes,
she shrugged and muttered, “Too bad you
didn't buy a hat."

/\

ginity is a beautiful but frail bubble,” says
а кепе aeguaiiitanee, of ous, “that, van-
ishes with the first prick.”

In Tokyo. a huge and fer sumo wrestler
won the Most Vicious Man in the World tro-
phy and, as a sort of bonus, his manager fixed
him up for the night with an unusually attrac-
tive geisha girl. When the girl went to the man-
agers office the next morning to collect her
stipend, he was in a bad mood. "Who ever
told that ape he could screw?" she snapped.
shrugged. "Who's going to

The manager
tell him he can't

And, of course, you've heard about the guy
who couldn't find his way to the orgy—you
might say he lost his ball bearings.

А тийе gong sounded as the little old lady
opened the carved and gilded door and
walked into the exotically furnished reception
room. A silk-draped young woman appeared in
a cloud of incense as if from nowhere and
bowed. "Do you," she intoned, "wish to con-
sult with the all-sceing, all-wise guru, Maha-

" said the visitor. “Tell Seymour his
mother is here from the Bronx."

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines timid femi-
nist as a chicken libber.

Тһе young u
somewhat hesitantly. "Can
asked the clerk
‘Well—er—yes,” replied the girl. "Do you
have any Fathers Day cards that say ‘To
whom it may concern?"

ing entered the greeting-card shop
I help you, miss?”

When a marriage starts to break up. the best
thing to do is to start picking up the ріссез-а
piece here and a piece there.

The madam was dumfounded when a 14-year-
old boy said he wanted to avail himself of
one of her girls suffering from a dose of the
dap. Some weeks after the transaction was
completed, she ran across the boy and asked
him if he got what he requested. “Sure,” he
bubbled, "but they gave me shots and I'm
cured no

“But why
asked.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated, see. Before 1
went to the doctor, I gave the disease to the
maid. She gave it to my father and, naturally,
my mother got it next.”

“But you didn't want to infect her?"

“Nah,” he replied. “It's the milkman I was
after. He's the bastard who ran over my bike."

she

id you want to catch V.

A poor-spelling golfer named Lear
Was sent to the clink for a year
Foran action obscene
Near the seventeenth green,
Where a club sign said ENTER COURSE HERE.

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines fellatio as
the French connection.

During a rehearsal break, two female mem-
bers of the string section of a symphony
orchestra were discussing the conductor, who
had a reputation as a lecher. “I wonder,” ven-
tured one, "if his aroused organ is really as
long as his baton?"

“Î wonder, too,” rejoined the other. "And
if you've noticed, he can't conduct, either."

Three gay fellows were discussing ideal occu-
pations. The first said he'd love to be a
hairdresser, while the second expressed quite a
strong preference for ballet dancing. “But I'd
like to be a baseball pitcher." said the third.

“A ball pitcher!" throated one of the
Whatever for, for goodness’ sake?”

"Well." replied the diamond-smitten one, “1
could use the rosin bag, paw the mound.
shake off the catcher's first sign, take off my
glove and rub up the ball, pose while looking
over my shoulder toward first base and stretch
slowly while peering toward third. By then
someone in the stands is bound to yell, ‘Pitch,
you cocksucker!” And that’s what I love—
public recogn:

Heard a funny опе lately? Send it on а post-
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY,
Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago,
I. 60611. $50 will be paid to the contributor
whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned.

о еж

"I'll go slop the hogs, milk the cows and feed the chickens, hon.
Then I'll come back and do my chores!”

FFISTEST/ |

ralph who?—a rapturous view of the meanest machines on land, sea and in the air

IN THIS AGE OF ECOLOGY, transportation has come to mean going from one point to another with the least visible flash.
What with the doomsday pronouncements of the Ehrlichs and the Commoners and the stuff we keep hearing about “the
impending energy crisis," it seems that those who still like to move in style are destined for even more bad press. On the
other hand, there are perspectives—such as those advanced by naturalist Robert Ardrey—that urge such folks to carry
on, full speed ahead. Ardrey, for instance, believes that all men possess an innate need to face danger. Without hazard,
as he calls it, Ardrey says man—both as an individual and as a civilization—is doomed. Now, the six men who drove the
machines pictured on these pages might not see their ambitions in Ardrey's terms, but what they've sought and achieved
isn't unsympathetic to his views. The irony is that what the gentlemen who piloted these record breakers did scuttles
rationale behind technology. If nothing else, technology implies the elimination of human sacrifice. And when:

device that was designed to remove suffering from your life and turn it around to stretch the limi

can understand the paradox. As we all know, record-setting attempts have their drawbacks: the fires, tie

assorted wipe-outs—and the sad knowledge that almost every record eventually disappears from the
ing that, there still remains a whole world of fringe benefits that eludes everyone but a few lif -risking
Craig Breedlove, for example, a former land speed record holder. In October 1964, he was attempting a
when his jet-powered Spirit of America went out of control. He missed the record, but his effort went down in hi
that day, Breedlove set a record for the longest skid marks ever made. By the time he brought his Spirit ur
he had skidded nearly eight miles. Of course, the difference between Breedlove and the men we fea
got what they were after and he didn't. And, as even Breedlove would agree, that makes all the,

Significantly, all the rocard-setting machines pictured here are results
of American technology. Before May 1, 1965, the Soviet Union held
the record for aircraft speed on a straight course, 1665.89 mph. But
on that May Day, Colonel Rabert L. Stephens climbed into his YF-12A jet, р
designed by Clarence 1. "Kelly" Johnson, and nct only set a new

world speed mark but cracked the 2000-mph barrier with 70 mph to spore.

The ecrliest internal-combustian-engined mororized bicycle wos built in
1885 by Gottlieb Daimler of Germany. It was wooden, had a tap speed of м m
12 mph and developed one half of one harsepower fram its single-cylinder —————
16.1-cubic-inch engine. Eighty-five years loter, Cal Rayborn powered his |

Harley-Davidson Sportster streanlliner, sporting an 89-cubic-inch V-Twin 224
“engine, to a new world's motorcycle speed record of 265.49 mph.

132 ILLUSTRATIONS BY MARTIN HOFFMAN

133

The name Sikorsky has long been synonymous with helicopters. That's
hardly surprising; Igor Sikorsky built his first helicopter only six

years ofter the Wright brothers flew at Kitty Hawk. When Kurt Cannon
hopped oboard his dolphin-shaped Sikorsky 5-67 Blackhawk on December
19, 1970, he was challenging a seven-year-old record held by the French.
His speed over a 15—25-kilometer course was 220.B mph. 3

Gary Gabelch, o 32year oid Calderon азыйм of a standout 4 JU
among world speed record holders. A former test astronaut, Gabelich
held a mark sanctioned by the Nationol Drag Boat Association LR

to becoming the fastest man on wheels. Sev Co

transportation. Oors discovered in a Danish bog indicate we've been trov-

eling on water for nearly 9000 years. The jet е! hasn't revolution-

ized sea travel as it et flight, but at right is % the jet-powered Hustler, which
toole

PLAYBOY

WRITER AS POLITICAL CRAZY

Jews like himself. Pound's most notable
disciples in this country were the fifth-
rate demagog John Kasper and—hilari-
ously—David R. Wang, Dartmouth 1955,
who described himself as “the only Chi-
nese poet of record who devotes himself
to the cause of white supremacy.” Pound's
broadcasts were (understandably) so un-
intelligible to the Fascists themselves that
some Italian radio officials suspected he
was an American agent relaying informa-
tion in codel

No matter how much one regrets
Pound the unsuccessful, hideous, loony
political broadcaster, it is impossible to
forget him entirely in favor of the Pound
who wrote some of the most beautiful
modern English poems, Pound the per-
fect friend and sponsor of other writers,
who put Eliot's The Waste Land into
shape, the Pound who was among the
first to recognize Robert Frost, who influ-
enced even an older poet like Yeats, who
was a passionate defender of Joyce when
that great man could not count on many
friends and supporters for Ulysses. For
Pound took his own political ideas and
nostrums very seriously, put them into his
most ambitious book, his lifework, the
Cantos, and, above all, considered it his
mission, as a poet. to lecture humanity at
large on the subject of its political dis-
order. Pound believed that literature was
the queen of the arts and that poets were
its kings. Poetry was it: no scientist, no
political leader (except those who were
as wise as poets, which meant only Confu-
cius and John Adams!) could rival a
true and therefore supreme poet in the
scope and power of his mind.

Modern times began with the French
Revolution, modern literature with the
romantic revolution in the arts. Words-
worth wrote of his first enthusiasm for
the French Revolution, "Bliss was it in
that dawn to be alive, but to be young
was very heaven," and Shelley wrote in 4
Defense of Poetry that "poets are the
unacknowledged legislators of the world."
Ever since the French Revolution made
politics everybody's business and roman-
ticism glorified literary imagination as
the key to heaven on earth. all the really
teresting writers "in our time" (the
title of Hemingway's first and still most
arresting book) have taken it for granted
that life is unprecedentedly on the move,
that for us there has been the most awe-
some shifting of people's minds, lives,
the whole of human destiny. in recorded
огу. (American writers have felt
themselves to be right in the middle
of this ever-accelerating idea of human
possibility.)

So it is nothing new for modern writ-
ers to think of themselves as prophets,
priests, ministers to the human condition
in general Pound fondly called poets
“the antennae of the race.” And Pound,

136 а writer with lightning intuitions about

(continued from page 108)

what was great in other writers, was
equally cocksure on economics, Confu-
cius, the history of finance in the ancient
world, the political ideas of John Adams,
the superiority of the Fascist system of
"corporations" (which did not really
exist) and, as he said in one of his broad-
casts, the fact that “the Nazis have wiped
out bad manners in Germany."

Writers are by nature confident
people—about their own opinions. The
greater they are, the more confidently
they indulge themselves in theories and
suppositions that might shame the aver-
age citizen. Tolstoy, the greatest novel
in Europe, tyrannically insisted, as а bi
liever in “naturalness,” that his wife
breast-feed each of their children (they
had 13). A boastfully virile man who had
access to the many young girls on his es
tate, a wealthy novelist, aristocrat, land-
owner, he at length proclaimed that the
times were too serious for mere novels
and, without seeing anything funny in
this, lectured everyone in sight on the ne-
cessity of total chastity, poverty, pacifism
and civil disobedience.

Dostoiewsky, who as а young man
was sentenced to death for studying
subversive literature, became a violent
reactionary and supporter of czarist op-
pression, wrote a political column іп a
rich man's newspaper to advance his
iews and was so intolerant that he at-
tacked Anna Karénina for implied
criticisms of Russia's "Pan-Slav" policy.
Victor Hugo's admirers called him a god
to his face and he became so convinced of
his undeviating rightness that someone
memorably called him “a madman who
thinks he is Victor Hugo.” Flaubert, the
aesthetic purist, the most famously apoli
ical of novelists, had such confidence
that his books had the key to everything
that on surveying the carnage after the
Paris Commune was destroyed in 1871, he
modestly said, “This wouldn't have hap-
pened if they had read my Education
Sentimentale.”

But it was only with the 20th Century,
the (мо terrible world wars and their
chain of wars, with the coming of commu-
nism and fascism, the breakup of the old
order, the slaughter of helpless millions
for being the wrong dass or race, that
writers, usually the most sensitive and
concerned writers, demonstrated that in
our time everything does turn into
politics.

D. H. Lawrence, for example, was an
amazingly evocative novelist. essayist and
poet. But he became the most viciously
authoritarian of political pseudo philoso-
phers after he was rejected for medical
reasons from serving in the 1914-1918
war. He was antiwar, but this was a blow
to his shaky masculinity; he then found
himself, because of his German wife,
Frieda von Richthofen, accused of sympa-
thizing with the enemy. All through the

postwar period, his increasing despair of
Western civilization was matched by his
struggle against the tuberculosis that
finally killed 1930. at 45.

A close friend, David Garnett, said that
Lawrence literally kept himself alive by
sheer rage. Bertrand Russell admired
Lawrence's literary gifts (all the first-rate
men of his time in England recognized
his genius from the first) but was soon
frightened by his private myth about
himself as a "leader." Russell saw befor
anyone else did that Lawrence's intense
creative. pride had the disorder of
the world after 1918 become pol
megalomania. He was to write in Por-
traits from Memory that Lawrence really
saw himself as the supreme ги
dictatorship had been established. He
charged that Lawrence had developed the
whole philosophy of fascism before the
politicians had thought of it. He called
Lawrence "an exponent of the cult of
insanity" in the between-wars period.

Lawrence's political views, when ex-
pressed in novels about Mexico (The
Plumed Serpent) and about Australia
(Kangaroo), were thoroughly brutal as
well as feverishly exalted in their hatred
of democracy. Lawrence vas, of course, a
miner's son, but his genteel husband-hat-
ing mother had taught him to despise the
lower orders. The fierce attachment. be-
tween himself and his mother also gave
him an indestructible sense of his own
rightness. He came to think of himself as
a man born to reeducate humanity in the
lessons of the primitive and what he in-
ed to call “blood knowledge.
‘One thing I can do," Lawrence boast
ed (and with reason), “I can juggle with
words; get a white rabbit out of a silk hat,
or a turtledove out of a black saucepan in
which I had only rattled peas." There аге
few 20th Century writers, few in all Eng.
lish literature, who сап make the imme-
diate moment so real, give us the feel of
life at the moment we most gladly do feel
it. But when Lawrence laid down the
law about women, society, peasants, the
Etruscans and their art, he was alter-
nately repulsive and ridiculous. He said,
for example, that the lower classes should
be relieved of all responsibility. They

when a

should not even learn how to read or
write. “Тһе secret is to commit into the

now lies like torture on the
mass. . . . Leaders—this is what mankind
is craving for." As many of his admirers
have noticed, there is a strain of personal
cruelty in Lawrence's writing, a fantasy of
unlimited domination over others; it al
lowed him to praisc the most bestia] "exe-
cutions" among the Aztecs and to make
some of his silly women characters talk
(if not behave) іп perfect accordance
with the male fantasy of sex as assured
domin

But Lawrence's belief in blood knowl-
edge, though so much like the windiest
(continued on page 206)

NEIGHBORS

was the man with the binoculars
watching the beginning of an
affair—or the prelude to murder?
fiction

By ROBERT McNEAR

HE WAS WATERING the avocado plant when
he saw her. The girl was standing behind
a sliding glass door, one hand on the
mechanism for opening it, and she was
peering out in a gingerly manner, pre-
sumably leery of the strong wind that was
blowing. Apparently satisfied that the air
currents would not pitch her from the bal-
cony, she opened the door wide enough to
let herself through and stepped outside.
Her costume, he thought, was most

ILLUSTRATION BY ROGER BROWN

appealing, a long-sleeved gingham dress
blood-red in color, which contrasted nice-
ly with the blonde hair straight and fall-
ing in the most natural style. Leaning
into the wind, she walked with purpose
to the point on the balcony where the
railing met from south to west. With
the wind snapping at clothes and hair,
with the clouds rolling ominously from
the southwest, she resembled the figure-
head of some noble ship about to meet

PLAYBOY

138

the storm. head on.

Being a longtime student of high-rise
life, he reached for that one accouter-
ment necessary to the vertically glassed-in
male species such as himself{—binoculars.
To Фе unaided eye, she had appeared
tall, well formed and perhaps pretty
around the face. Magnified seven times,
the matter of height and build was con-
firmed, though the face did give pause—
a squat nose, eyes set too widely apart, a
thin mouth that seemed frivolous. a little
chin that seemed pointless. Studying this,
he decided that the ingredients did not
work individually, for each feature was
out of whack with the next one, but col-
lecively the parts meshed very well, in-
deed, and he let the glasses linger on this
most promising neighborly discovery.

For several long minutes she remained
motionless, giving the impression of toy-
ing with the wind, vamping the gusty
outriders of the approaching storm.
Then when all hell was about to invade
her balcony, she began to turn in his
direction, а graceful whirl in prepara-
tion for going inside, but at that precise
instant when head and body faced him
directly, she aborted the swinging move-
ment and froze completely, as if upon
command.

She sees me, he thought in panic. A
distance of 50 feet at most, so how could
she miss? But did she? In part, he was
shielded by the avocado plant, the lights
in his apartment were not turned on
and the gloom outside was increasing as
the storm approached. Yet with the bin-
oculars, he could clearly see the color of
her eyes, a soft brown that blended
nicely with the blonde hai

If the girl had caught him in the act,
she was behaving as по one ever had.
Upon rare occasions when the object of
his viewing had in turn viewed him, the
person had simply left the balcony or, if
inside, pulled the drapes. Never had one
stared him down like the girl in the red
gingham dress.

A single raindrop on his window ski
tered across the binocular's field of vi-
sion, a peal of thunder dapped around
the buildings. Forewarned in earnest, the
girl nimbly dashed for the sliding glass
door and a moment later vanished inside.

Terrible timing for him to be heading
out on a date, of that there was no
doubt, but already he was late, so he put
on a raincoat and left. All in all, the
evening was not bad—dinner, movie, a
walk back to the girl's apartment with
the smell of the recent storm all around
them. Later, back at his place, and with
the lights off, he took up station by the
avocado plant.

Where are you, you smashing thing in
red gingham and blonde hair? Where
are you, Marian Taylor? He had already
learned her name and the thought of
this caused him to smirk to himself.

Undoubtedly, the layout of the apart-

ment across the way was identical to
that of his own, for the builders of
this apartmenthouse complex were not
known for originality among buildings.
The livingroom drapes were drawn, as
were the shades in the one bedroom,
leaving visible to him only a small cor-
ner of a room certain to be the kitchen
and a portion of the hall leading to the
living room.

His wait was not long. Apparently,
she had gone into that part of the
kitchen he could not sce and raided the
refrigerator there, because she showed
up in the portion of the kitchen he
could see with a glass of milk in her
hand. The girl drank slowly from the
glass. Her red gingham dress appeared
mussed, and so did her hi Who was
the guy? he wondered. Whose hands
had explored the dress and rummaged
around the hair? The mild disarray sug-
gested that he had been slightly rough
оп the girl, though perhaps the experi
ence had not been entirely unpleasant.
On her face: a trace of what could be
annoyance, a measure of excitement.
When she finished the milk and left, he
went off and lay awake in his own dark
bedroom, knowing that he had wit
nessed the beginning of an affair.

The next evening, however, she stayed
home alone. Obligingly, she left the
drapes open. Dressed in blue jeans and
a plaid shirt not tucked in, she took to
the ironing board, doubilessly sprucing
up for the pending rounds. The red
gingham dress was ironed, as were other
dresses, and even put to the iron was a
blue nightgown, transparent, he noticed,
when she held it in front of her.

‘The following week, the girl went out
three times. The bedroom drapes were
always pulled shut, so the first he knew
of the imminent date was her grand
entrance into the living room. Anticipat-
ing her date's arrival, she would empty
an ashtray here, smooth a pillow there,
all the while moving with that lithe
grace that he was beginning to love.

Upon each of these three occasions, he
would abandon his watching post beside
the avocado plant to go out before her
date arrived and would return home
after she was home, and alone, at that;
so, curiously enough, that week he never
caught so much as а glimpse of the
other guy.

The other guy. Whoever he was, he
was managing to pull off two neat little
tricks at the same time—one good, one
bad. He excited her, to be sure, as he
had noticed after the first date. when
she was drinking milk in the kitchen.
And judging from her face, this emotion
increased after each of the next three
dates. But from the very first, he had
seen what he took to be annoyance, and
this grew in tandem with the excitement
until it was no longer annoyance. Make
it read fear, he thought. Pure, undiluted

fear. Even terror. Was he viewing the
beginning of an affair or the prelude to
murder?

Don't be so dramatic, he observed to
himself. It was Saturday morning. A
week to the day had passed since he had
first seen the girl in the red gingham
dress. And, like the previous Saturday,
the air was heavy with storm, for it is
axiomatic that fine Chicago summer
days are not reserved for weekends.

In the apartment across the way, 17
floors above the street, the livingroom
drapes were unexpectedly drawn, and so
were the bedroom shades, shielding the
lovely girl from his inquisitive gaze.
Well, he had nothing to do tonight.
Likely, in time, she would pull the
drapes and he would take up his post.
Perhaps he would even sce her date,
although he somehow doubted this. The
guy. he felt, was all through. He had
something going for him and something
Boing against him, but whatever it was
that inspired the negative factor surely
was adequate to mark finis to the matter.

Which raised an interesting point. Sup-
pose she was in some danger. Suppose the
guy was a threat to her. Ah. he would
ride to the rescue. You dreamer, you,
and he put on his raincoat and went to
the supermarket. Returning with the
fixings for dinner, he noticed the two
thunderheads over the lake. Nigrescent
like bruises against the summer sky, they
lurked above the water, motionless, point-
ing menacingly at the sweltering city.
Other passers-by, also noticing them, hur-
ried on their way.

He unloaded the groceries and made
sure that the air conditioning was
turned up high. Several afternoon hours
passed with the twin thunderheads sta-
tioned over the lake and the girl's
drapes shut tight. Marian Taylor, what
are you doing behind those curtains?

The time was nearly five o'clock when
suddenly the sky became quite dark.
Since sunset was some hours off, hc went
to the window and looked lakeward,
knowing what he would see. In front of
him was a wall of black: the thunder-
heads were on the move. Suspecting that
he was not witnessing an ordinary sum-
mer storm, he turned on the radio. The
weather bureau, the announcer said, had
just issued a tornado watch. A moment
later, the watch was escalated. ‘Tornado
warning!

Outside, all traces of day receded until
the building next door was in evidence
only by a scattering of light showing
The wind increased its vicious tugs at
the windows, and on the quivering glass,
raindrops hammered in fury. The first
lightning flash was tentative, brief in
length, arching over the lake-front sky,
but following the exploratory elec-
tronics, the air was shauered by а
wio of simultancous zigzag bolts cach

(continued on page 248)

following the numbers: 1, Danish-made
brass megaphane with a six-inch apening
stands 14” high, from Abercrombie &
Fitch, $20. 2. The Peaple Feeder, a plastic
dispenser af munchies that looks like
it's for the birds, from Baekgaard Ltd.,
$12.50. 3. Electronic Desk-Auta-Wrist
Watch, іп а removable styrene case, runs
on a tiny energy cell and features an easel
back for desk use, adhesive fabric that
adheres to an automabile's dash and strap
slots for a watch band, by Timex, $25.

PLAYBOY'S
GIFTS FOR

PHOTOGRAPH! BY RICHARD FEGLEY

4. The Nome Caller, an automatic tele-
phone dialer for affice or hame, can
“memorize” up to 38 numbers and dial
them at the touch of a button, by Macam
Products, $60 for a single-line unit, $70
for multiple lines. 5. Jupiter 6500 sterea
speaker with 12” woofer is made of Uni-
royal Rubicast, a space-age material that
provides a virtually indestructible nan-
resonating enclasure, by Empire, $140. 6.
Walnut box cames with twa battles of Old
Na. 7, from Jack Daniel's Distillery, $25.

1. Тһе Projecto solid-stote portoble color
TV with a 15-diogonol-inch screen, Бу
RCA, $380, plus motching stond, $30.
2. French-mode ІР holder of polished
chrome, from Bonniers, about $30. 3.
Plostic bor with chrome legs, removoble
troys and ice-bucket finer meosures 3234
x 28" x 20", from Plocix, $50. 4. Joguar
XJ 12 has 12-cylinder engine, air con-
ditioning, automotic transmission, power
brakes ond steering, electric windows,
fiom British Leylond Motors, $10,500.
5. Natural-pine woll- or toble-mounted
solod-moker set includes spice cubes,
mortor ond pestle, ond ой and vinegor
crues, by Heoth Ltd. Design Forum,
$25. 6. МАС 10, on Itolion 9/;-һр out-
boord powered by o Wonkel engine that
performs on only one sparkplug, from
Offshore Morine Company, обом $600,
including six-volt generotor ond remote-
control ottochments, 7. Colorful Itolion-
mode Asti ice buckets of plostic hold obout
o gollon of cubes, from Heller Design,
$10 eoch. 8. Mork 8 outomatic 8-track
chonger plays up to five cortridges
through ony stereo system, by RCA, $170.

Т. Jet 80 microwave oven with a front
of solar bronze cooks food in ultraquick
time, by G. E., $230. 2. Celio P. Sebiri-
designed Art Deco-type sterling-silver
bracelet, $65, and cuff links, $57, both
from Cul De Soc ot Bloomingdole's.
3. Model 3100-D TV plus digital clock
features а nonglare black-tinted screen,
by JVC, $180. 4. HP 80 bottery-powered
business calculator has problem-solving
capability in such oreos os bond yield,
compound interest, sinking fund, loan re-
payment and investment anolysis, by
Hewlett-Pockard, $400. 5. Rabbit-insignia
tennis bolls, which conform to U. $. L.T. A.
specificotions, from Playboy Products, $5
for a can of three; and on ocrylic sleeve-
less tennis pullover, by Head, $22. 6. Arti-
ficial chorcooler imparts true charcool
Ravor to food without actual use of chor-
coal, by Chor-B-Que, $60; portable cart,
$60. 7. KF 20 Aromaster Filter Coffee Sys-
tem produces 6 to 8 cups of delicious, ой-
free coffee, by Braun, $60. 8. Sopo, the
Gome of the Frog, a hand-crofted hord-
wood, brass and leother pitching plotform,
from Blue Ridge Cottoge Industries, $750.

142

SYNOPSIS: The fourth packet oj the
Flashman Papers (1854-1855) picks up
the memoirs of the celebrated soldier as
England is moving towards war with Rus-
sia. Captain Flashman—a public hero of
the Afghanistan campaign but, as he
reveals, a private coward—seeks to avoid
the coming storm by joining the Board
of Ordnance in London.

Flashman finds himself promoted to
the rank of colonel and ordered to ac-
tive service as an aide and guardian to
the young Prince William of Celle, a
German relative of Prince Albert. This
assignment comes to a tragic end when,
at the battle of the Alma, the young
prince charges ahead and Flashman lags
behind. Flashman then, as an aide and
galloper on General Lord Raglan’s staff,
fo his overwhelming horror, gets in-
volved in the charge of the Light Bri-
gode. He was, in fact, somewhat to blame
for ils starting off in the wrong direction;
having drunk some Russian champagne,
he is bloated. His booming flatulence

FLASHMAN
THE CHARGE

27
greatest cound

Concluding a new adventure satire

By
GEORGE MacDONALD FRASER

annoys General Cardigan to the point of
giving the order to charge, with Flash-
man, terror-struck, in the van.

By some miracle, Flashman survives
the disaster and is captured by the Rus-
sians. He is taken into the interior and,
on the way, meets a Russian captain, the
cruel and icyhearted Count Ignatieff.
Flashman's prison turns out, much to his
surprise, to be the private estate of an old
Cossack nobleman, Count Pencherjev-
shy, where he is well treated and given
limited freedom. Another surprise is the
discovery of his fellow prisoner—Scud
East, an acquaintance from Rugby days.

Flashman then—as п result of the
count's bizarre whim—falls into secret,
torrid lovemaking with Valla, the count's
beautiful daughter. That is interrupted,
however, when Flashman and East man-
age to overhear a council of war presided
over by the tsar himself. The strategy
being plotted is a Russian attack оп In-
dia by way of Persia. East is determined
10 escape and carry the news back to the

ILLUSTRATION BY COLOS

British. That chance comes when rebel-
lious peasants launch an altack on
Pencherjevskys manor house. Flashman,
East and Valla—who has had no time
to dress—escape in a horse-drawn sleigh

They reach a causeway that leads to
the Crimea and suddenly, through the
snow and darkness, Flashman sights Cos-
sack cavalry in pursuit. Trying desper-
ately to lighten the sleigh, he throws out
everything moveable—and at last dumps
the naked Valla into the snow. But, once
across the causeway and close to safety,
they suffer an accident when the sleigh
overturns and Flashman is pinned be-
neath it. East explains that, much as it
pains him, he must go on alone to take
the intelligence to the British high com
mand. Hurt and moaning with fear,
Flashman is recaptured by the Russians

1 suprose my life has been full of poetic
justice—an expression customarily used
by Holy Joes to cloak the vindictive pleas
ure they feel when some enterprising

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fellow fetches himself a cropper. They
are the kind who'll say unctuously that
I was properly hoist with my own pe-
tard at Arabat and serve the bastard
right. I'm inclined to agree; East would
never have abandoned me if 1 hadn't
heaved Valla out of the sled in the first
place. He'd have stuck by me and the
Christian old-school code, and let his mili-
tary duty go hang. But my treatment of
his beloved made it easy for him to forget
the ties of comradeship and brotherly
love and do his duty; all his pious protes-
tations about leaving me were really
hypocritical moonshine, spouted out to
salve his own conscience.

I know my Easts and Tom Browns, you
see. They're never happy unless their mo-
rality is being tried in the furnace and
they can feel theyre doing the right,
Christian thing—and never mind the
consequences to anyone else. Selfish
brutes. Damned unreliable it makes ‘em,
too. On the other hand, you can always
count on me. I'd have got the news
through to Raglan out of pure cowardice
and selflove, and to hell with East and
Valla both: but your pious Scud had to
havea grudge to pay off before he'd aban-
don me. Odd, ain't it? They'll do for us
yet, with their sentiment and morality.

In the meantime, he had done for me,
handsomely. If you're one of the alore-
mentioned who take satisfaction in seeing
the wicked go аге over tip into the pit
which they have digged, you'll relish the
situation of old Flashy, а halfhealed
crack in his head, a broken rib crudely
strapped up with rawhide, lousy after a
week in a filthy cell under Fort Arabat
and with his belly muscles fluttering in
the presence of Captain Count Nicholas
Pavlovitch Ignatieff.

They had hauled me into the guard-
room and there he was, the inevitable cig-
arette damped between his teeth, those
terrible, hypnotic, blue-brown eyes re-
garding me with no more emotion than a
snake's. For a full minute he stared at me,
and then, without a change of expression,
he lashed me back and forth across the
face with his gloves, while I struggled
feebly between my Cossack guards.

“Don't!” I cried. "Pajalusta! I'm а
wounded prisoner! I'm а British offi-
сег! For God's sake, stop!"

He gave one last swipe and dropped
the gloves at the feet of his aide. "Burn
those,” he said in an icy whisper. Then, іп
his deadly, unemotional voice, he said to
me, "You plead for mercy—you, a be-
trayer of the vilest kind? You gave your
most solemn oath to protect the daughter
of a man who had treated you with every
consideration—only to escape, abduct
her and, finally, abandon her to her
death.”

“It's a liel” I shouted. “It wasn't my
fault. She fell from the sled by accident!

Besides, we'd given no parole, We had
the right of any prisoners of war. .

‘ou thought to take advantage,” he
said softly, “because you believed that
Pencherjevsky was doomed. Fortunately,
he was not a hetman of Cossacks for noth-
ing. He cut his way clear and, in spite of
your unspeakable treatment of his daugh-
ter, she, too, survived.”

“Thank God for that!" cries 1. "Be-
lieve me, sir, I intended no betrayal. And,
as for the matter of the accident —

“The only accident was the one that
prevented you from escaping,” he went
оп in that level, sibilant voice, "and you
will live to wish that sled had crushed
your life out. You have lost every right to
be treated as an honourable man. One
thing alone can mitigate your punish-
ment.” He paused to let that sink in
while he lit another cigarette.

“I require an answer to one question,”
says Ignatieff, “and you will supply it in
your own language.” His next words were
in English: “Why did you try to escape?”

Terrified as I was, 1 daren't tell him the
truth. I knew that if he learned that I'd
found out about his expedition to India,
all was up with me. "Because it is the pris-
oner's duty to try to escape—to rejoin his
own army. I swear we had no other”

“You lie. The attempt would have
been both foolhardy and dishonourable
—unles you had some very pressing
reason. As for that reason, you will be
dying in excruciating agony within five
minutes unless you сап tell me"—he
paused, inhaling on his cigarette, his
blue-brown eyes seeming to bore into my
brain—"what is meant by item seven."

"There was nothing for it; I had to con-
fess. 1 stammered out hoarsely in English,
"It's a plan to invade India. Please, for
God's sake"

“How did you discover it?"

I babbled out how we had caves
dropped in the gallery and heard him
talking to the tsar. “It was just by chance

I didn't mean to spy . . - it was East
who said we must get away to warn our
people! It was all his notion.”

"Gag him," says Ignatieff, "and bring
him to the courtyard with another prison-
er. Anyone in the cells will do.” So,
minute, I found myself in the icy court-
yard, shivering in my shirt and breeches.
Presently, a Cossack appeared, driving in
front of him a scared and dirty peasant
with fetters on his legs. “What was this
fellow’s offence?” asks Ignatieff.

“Insubordination, Lord Count," says
the Cossack guard.

Two more Cossacks appeared, carrying
а curious bench like a vaulting horse with
very short legs and a flat top. The prison-
er shricked at the sight of it, but they tore
off his clothes and bound him to it face
down, with thongs at his ankles, knees,

waist and neck, so that he lay there
naked, still screaming horribly.

One of the Cossacks handed Ignatieff
a thick black coil of someth that
looked for all the world like shiny liquo-
rice. He hefted it in his hands, stepped in
front of me and placed it over my head. I
shuddered as it touched my shoulders and
І was astonished by the weight of the
thing. At a sign from Ignatieff, the Cos-
sack grasped the end and slowly drew it
off my shoulders and, as it uncoiled like
an obscene black snake, I realized that it
was a huge whip. over 12 feet long, as
thick as my arm at the butt and tapering
to a point as thin asa bootlace.

“You will have heard of the knout,”
says Ignatieff softly. "Its use is illegal." At
this, the Cossack grasped the butt with
both hands, swept the knout back over his
shoulder and then struck. The diabolical
thing cut through the air with a noise like
a steam whistle’s, ending with a crack
like а pistol shot and a fearful, choked
scream of agony.

They pushed me forwards to the bench
and forced me to look. With the bile
nearly choking me behind my gag, 1 saw
that the man's buttocks were cut clean
across, as by a sabre, and the blood was
pouring out, “That is the drawing
stroke,” says Ignatieff. “Proceed.”

Five more explosive cracks, five more
razor gashes and the snow beneath the
bench was sodden with blood. The victim
was still conscious, making awful, animal
sounds. "Now observe the effect of a flat
blow," says Ignatieff. This time, the Cos
sack didn’t snap the knout but let it fall
Hat on the man's spine. The sound was
like that of a wet doth slapped on stone.
The victim was silent. When they un-
strapped him from the bench, I saw that
he'd been nearly broken in two.

"They took me inside and dropped me,
half fainting, into a chair. Ignatieff lit a
other cigarette and began to talk quietly.
“When your time comes, I shall see how
many of the drawing strokes a man can
suffer before he dies. Your one hope of
escaping that fate lies in doing precisely
what I am about to tell you.” I watched
him like a rabbit before a snake. He had
committed that hideous butchery just
10 impress me. And 1 was enormously
impressed.

“That you had somehow learned of
item seven I had already suspected,” says
Ignatieff at last. “Regrettably, Major East
was never recaptured, and thus I must as-
sume that Lord Raglan has received the
intelligence. Do not take cheer from that,
however—it can be made to work to our
advantage. Whereas your authorities will
now suppose that they have seven months
to prepare, in fact, within four months

(continued on page 146)

summer chefs of the world, unite! you have nothing to lose but your flames

food and drink By JACK DENTON SCOTT

DURING THE UPCOMING swelter season, the least appreciated as
ресі of any picnic, patio party or country cookout will be the
heat—either in food or from cooking equipment

Yet for years the women's and home magazines have been
pushing glorious color photos of grinning groups dressed for
the hot season gathered around blazing charcoal fires or gas
cookers, steak, chicken or hamburgers sizzling merrily, the host
in chef's hat and cook Ат WORK apron, fork in hand. It's a
cliché and a fraud

It isn't necessary to herd along with it. I have had picnics,
patio parties and cookouts with professionals, top chefs, and,
to a man, they place pleasure first. To that end, they prepare
ahead so the host and / or hostess can also enjoy alfresco summer
entertaining. Less effort, more play is their design, guests help-
ing themselves to the offerings, the friendship rather than the
хес how-we've-been-working theme carrying the affair. Psycho-
logical advantages are remarkable, in comfort and camaraderie

If the host isn't forced to do his fork-in-hand wobble before

d his helpmate doesn't have to play the part
re de,

the hot fire,
of a freak eight-handed waitress, or whip-handed т:
It is also

everyone is more relaxed—and so is the
more civilized

How do many professionals play this relaxed game? Simple:
They don't cook. I realize this is akin to four-letter-wording the
American way of life, especially summer dining, when charcoal
and chow are synonymous. But in my rambles about. Europe
and other places, I have been on the receiving end ot several
no-cooking cookouts that left me impressed. It was cool enter-
tainment in the best sense of the word. So let's dip into various
cultures for a no-cooking get-together that is limited only by

Each of the recipes that follow serves eight; multiply or
divide ingredients according to the size of your party

First, ther bused steak. Let's turn it around and
eat it as a first course, raw with drinks when the party begins,
as I have had it in Austria and (continued on page 187)

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DON AZUMA

M5

PLAYBOY

146

FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE

our army, thirty thousand strong, will be
advancing over the Khyber Pass with at
least half as many Afghan allies. At their
backs, your English troops will have a re-
bellious Indian population. Our agents
are already preparing that insurrection.

"You may wonder how it is possible to
advance the time of our attack. It is sim-
ple. We have given up any thought of the
southern route through Persia and now
adhere to General Khruleffs original
northern plan. Transport of the army
across the Caspian and Aral seas can
begin immediately. The Syr Daria and
Amu Daria tribesmen will be pacified by
our army as it moves."

I didn't doubt a word of it—not that 1
cared a patriotic damn. They could have
India, China and the whole bloody
Orient if I could only find some way out
for myself.

“In this, you will play a small rôle,” 1g-
пае went on. "We possess, you sce,
the most exiensive dossiers in Europe
—dossiers that are remarkably detailed
about your activities in Afghanistan four-
teen years ago: Your work among the Gil-
zai and other tribes, your dealings with
Muhammed Akbar Khan, your solitary
survival of the British army disaster—a
disaster in which our own intelligence
service played some part.”

Shaken and fearful as 1 was, one part of
my mind was noting something from all
this. Master Ignatieff was a devilish dever
man, but he had one of the weaknesses of
youth: He was vain as an Etonian duke.
Thus, he talked too much.

“It will be most convenient,” says he,
“to have a British officer with some small
reputation in Afghanistan. He can per-
suade the tribal leaders that the decay of
British power is imminent and that their
advantage lies in joining the invasion.”
By the tilt of his reue and the glitter
in his strange сус, I knew he was enjoying
all this.

“My dossier reading tells me of a man
brave to the point of recklessness. My
own observation of you tends to contra-
dict й—1 do not judge you to be of heroic
material. Still, there are the eyewitness ac-
counts from Balaclava, and 1 may be
wrong. In any case, even a hero would
weigh a refusal to cooperate against being
played naked іп an iron cage and
being made to suffer the knout at the end
of the journey. That is all."

You may not credit it, but my feelings,
as they clamped chains on my ankles and
wrists and thrust me into an under-
ground pit, were of profound relief. For
one thing, I was out of the presence of
that evil madman with his leery optic.
Point two, I had my good health for at
least four months—and I was old soldier
enough to know that a lot can happen in
that time. Afghanistan, ghastly place, was
home country to me and all 1 would need

(continued from page 144)

was a yard’s start on any Russian pursuer.

Thinking about that, 1 could make a
guess that if there were a point where the
Russian force might run into trouble, it
would be in the wild country before Af-
ghanistan. There were the independent
khanates at Bokhara, Samarkand and in
the Syr Daria country, where the Russians
had been trying to extend their empire
for some time—and had been getting a
bloody nose in the process. Fearsome bas-
tards, those northern tribes of Tajiks, Uz-
beks and the remnants of the Great
Horde. Still, wouldn't an army of 30,000,
with 10.000 Cossack cavalry and artillery
trains, cat the tribes up at leisure? In all,
perhaps I'd better wait until Afghanistan
to lift mine eyes up unto the hills—or
down to the nearest hiding hole.

You may think it strange that I could
plan ahead so calmly. But, since my early
days, I'd learned that there's no use іп
cramping your digestion with laments
over evil luck. E if your knees knock
as hard as mine did, remember the golden
rule: When the game's going against you,
stay calm and cheat.

1 began my journey from Fort Arabat
the following day—a journey such as I
don't suppose any other Englishman has
ever made. You can trace it on the тај
all 1500 miles of it, and your finger vill
go over places you never dreamed of,
from the edge oí civilisation to the real
back of beyond, over seas and deserts to
mountains that perhaps nobody will ever
climb, through towns and tribes that
belong to the Arabian Nights rather than
to the true story of a reluctant English
gentleman (as the guidebooks would say)
with two enormous scowling Cossacks
brooding over him the whole way.

‘The first part of the journey was all too
familiar, by sled back along the Arrow of
Arabat, over the bridge at Genitchi, and
then east along that dreary winter coast
to Taganrog, where the snow was al-
ready beginning to melt in the foul little
streets and the locals still appeared to be
recovering from the excesses of the great
winter fair at Rostov. Russians, in my
experience, are part drunk most of the
time, but if there's a sober soul between
the Black Sea and the Caspian for weeks
after the Rostov kermess, he must be a
Baptist hermit; Taganrog was littered
with returned revellers. Rostov 1 don't
much remember, or the famous river
Don, but after that we took to telegas,
and since the great Ignatieff was riding
at the front of our little convoy of six
vehicles, we made good speed. Too good
for Flashy, bumping along uncomfortably
on the straw in one of the middle wagons;
my chains were beginning to be damned
uncomfortable and every jolt of those i
fernal telegas bruised my wrists and
ankles.

Cossacks, of course, never wash (al-
though they brush their coats daily with
immense care) and 1 wasn't allowed to,
cither, зо by the time we меге roli
into the half-frozen steppe be
tov. I was filthy, bearded. tan
itchy beyond belief, stinking with the
garlic of their awful food and only pray-
ing that I wouldn't contract some foul
disease from my noisome companio:
for they even slept either side of me,
their nagaikas knotted into my ch
It t like a honeymoon at Baden. I сап
tell you.

There were 400 miles of that intermi-
nable plain, getting worse as it went on;
it took us about five days, as near as 1 re-
member, with the telegas going like blazes
and new horses at every posthouse. The
only good thing was that as we went,
the weather grew slightly warmer, until
when we were entering the great salt flats
of the Astrakhan, the snow vanished alto-
gether and you could even travel without
your tulup.

Astrakhan city itself is а hellhole. The
land all about is as flat as the Wash coun.
try, and the town itself lies so low they
have a great dyke all round to prevent

пв сам

Соћег way round. As you might expect,
it's a plague spot; you can smell the pesti-
lence in the air, and before we passed
through the dyke, Ignatieff ordered ev-
eryone to soak his face and hands with
vinegar, as though that would do any
Still, it was the nearest 1 came to
making toilet the whole way.

I had two nights in a steaming cell be-
fore they put us aboard a steamer for the
trip across the Caspian. It’s a queer sea,
that one, for at the north end it isn't
above 20 meters deep, and consequently
the boats are of shallow draught and
bucket about like canoes. 1 spewed most
of the way, but the Cossacks, who'd never
sailed before, were in a fearful way, vom-
iting and praying by turns. They never
let go of me, though, and I realized with
а growing sense of alarm that if these two
watchdogs were kept on me all the way to
Kabul, Га stand little chance of giving
them the slip. Their terror of Ignatieff
was, if anything, even greater than mine,
and in the worst of the boat's heaving,
one of them was always clutching my
ankle chains, even if he was rolling about
the deck, retching at the same time.

It was four days of misery before we
began to steam through clusters of ugly,
sandy little islands towards the port of
Tishkandi, which was our destination.
I'm told it isn't there any longer, and this
is another strange thing about the Caspi-
an—its coast line changes continually, al-
most like the Mississippi shores. One year
there are islands and next they have be-
come hills on a peninsula, while a few
miles away a huge suctch of coast will
have changed into a lagoon.

(continued on page 212)

while being honored for lesser achievements, albert einstein
quietly revolutionized the field of slapstick comedy

IN HIS OTHERWISE admirable biography, Einstein: The Life and Times, British author
Ronald W. Clark has shed virtually no light on what is certainly the most remarkable
aspect of the late theoretical physicist’s altogether remarkable career. Either by over-
sight—which seems nearly incredible in a work so apparently well rescarched—or Бу
deliberate design, Clark has joined the overwhelming majority of Einstein biographers
in completely ignoring the fact that from 1923 to 1983 Albert Einstein directed and

ILLUSTRATION BY JOHN CRAIG

HOLIYWOOD°S
NECLECIED
GENIUS

humor
By RICHARD D. SMITH

148

starred in some of the funniest slapstick comedies of the
era. In so doing, Clark has lent his support 10 a соп-
spiracy of censorship that has been perpetrated by no
less awesome bastions of the establishment than the
Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and thc
Atomic Energy Commission. This suppression has, since
the early Thirties, systematically denied the American
public the pleasure and enlightenment provided by
such milestones of ma history as The Professor
(1924) and The Genius (1926). It can only be hoped
that the forthcoming publication of the Einstein papers
from the Princeton collection will not be subject to the
same restraints and that the future will see the free
dissemination of both the films and the biographical
material concerning them.

In order, however, to understand the films them-
selves, we must first know something of the forces that
transformed the world’s foremost theoretical physicist
into a madcap baggy-pants movie comic.

By 1921, Einstein had long since made his major
contributions to science. His historic papers on the
photoelectric effect and the special theory of relativity
appeared as early as 1905, and the general theory of
relativity, often considered the greatest intellectual
achievement of a single human mind, was essentially
complete by 1914. When dramatic proof of thc general
theory was obtained by Eddington during the eclipse of
1919, Einstein was catapulted from the status of humble
academic to a position of unprecedented eminence in
both the scientific community and the world at large.
Yet even had he been able to continue serious scientific
work under the burden of celebrity, stein would
still have found himself in the ironic predicament of
being the world’s leading scientist just when he was
most sorely disillusioned about the role of science in
human affairs.

A pacifist who had spent the early war years in Ber-
lin, Einstein had over and over again been exposed to
the “wicked wedding” of pure science and military
technology. He had looked on in helpless revulsion
while his colleagues at the august Kaiser Wilhelm Insti-
tute gly lent their intellectual and material re-
sources to the service of the Prussian war machine, It
was a shock from which he was never fully to recover.

In addition, by the early Twenties, physics itself was
moving in a ction with which Einstein was unable
intellectually to reconcile himself; that is, toward the
probabilistic description of subatomic phenomena
known as the Copenhagen Interpretation. Einstein's
oft-quoted remark that he refused to believe that бой
played dice with the universe reflects his distaste for the
new hypothesis, yet he was unable to come up with a
satisfactory refutation of it. He must have felt, then,
much as did his fellow physicist Wolfgang Pauli, whom
Clark quotes as having written:

Physics is very muddled again at the moment; it
is much too hard for me, anyway, and I wish I were
a movie comedian or something like that and had
never heard anything about physics.
Pauli's wistful alternative to the scientific life is not

hard to appreciate, for the postwar world of German
cinema offered one of the most exciting burgeonings of

artistic creativity since the Renaissance. In Einstein's
Berlin, virtually down the block from the laboratories
and lecture halls of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute, the
enormous Universum Film Aktiengesellschaft (UFA)
studios were pouring forth the first fruits of what was to
become the golden era of German film making. Screen
giants such as Von Gerlach, Wiene, Leni, Lubitsch and
Fritz Lang were expanding and enriching the vocabu-
lary of cinematic art at a pace that far outstripped the
plodding, uncertain inchings of theoretical physics.
How, to the brilliantly impatient, creative imagination
of Albert Einstein, could the icy mathematical formal-
ism of the new quantum mechanics ever approach the
sweep and grandeur of Lubitsch's great costume spec-
tades, the visual and emotional daring of Wiene's Cabi-
net of Dr. Caligari or the subtle mood and pace of
Lang's Dr. Mabuse the Gambler?

Einstein, then, was ripe for the movies and had only
to find a form worthy of that vast creative energy that
had so recently transformed man’s vision of his uni-
verse. It was on his triumphant visit to New York,
shortly before receiving the Nobel Prize of 1921, that he
discovered the genre in which he was to distinguish
himself so brilliantly in the decade to come. Here, be-
tween university speaking engagements, he sequestered
himself in local moviehouses, reveling in such contem-
porary masterpieces of slapstick art as Charlie Chap-
lin's Kid and Fatty Arbuckle’s Dollar a Year Man.

For the quiet man of science, it was a revelation.
Never had he believed possible such rollicking high-
jinks, such unrestrained frivolity as those flickering
images now conjured up before him. He was transfixed.
The pent-up energies of a lifetime of sober meditation
had found their destined outlet.

As soon as he returned to Berlin, Einstein set about
converting his allotted laboratory space at the institute
into a complete film studio jammed with klieg lights,
dollies, cranes, cameras. “To see this man apply himself
to practicing the pratfall and double shuffle with the
same white-hot concentration that he had previously re-
served for the deepest mysteries of time and space is
nothing less than awe-inspiring [Nárzischkeit]"" wrote
his second wife, Elsa.

In a single year (1923), Einstein turned out over a
dozen two-reelers, only two of which have survived.
The Violinist, which many film scholars believe to be
the first in the series, is a flimsy bit of slapstick about an
old man whose fiddle keeps falling apart, The Dude
chronicles the hilarious misadventures of a Jewish des-
perado. Both works, in conception and execution, bear
the unmistakable stamp of the amateur, and Einstein
never permitted them to be shown in public. A perfec
tionist in film as much as in physics, he delayed his com-
mercial debut until he felt he had mastered the art. As
far as the general public was concerned, he was still
working as a physicist on "the unified field theory.”
The “field theory" became Einstein's humorous private
nickname for his first full-length film, which was re-
leased in 1924 as The Professor.

The Professor is universally regarded as Einstein's
finest football film. 1t features, furthermore, the first.
known appearance of the "cuddly professor" persona,
whose droopy mustache, baggy sweat shirt and wild

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“I guess this means I’m not very convincing when I say no."

149

PLAYBOY

white fright wig were to become an Ein-
stcin trademark. The plot of the film,
characteristically, is simple almost to the
point of simple-mindedness: It concerns
an old professor at a fictitious Midwest-
ern college (State) who watches іп dis-
gust each fall as football fever sweeps
across the campus, disrupting classes and
making any attempt at serious instrucuon
impossible for the duration of the season.
At last, the professor loses his patience
2nd decides to aci. Disguising himself as
a young man, he enrolls as a freshman
under the name Swivelhips McGee. His
plan is to become a football hero, win the
respect and love of the student body for
s gridiron exploits, then use his prestige
in denouncing the sport and leading the
students back to the intellectual life.

"Through a series of hilarious flukes,
the professor is at first amazingly suc-
cessful, With his misshaped helmet ro-
tated sideways so that his nose protrudes
from one of the earholes, his enormous
winglike shoulder pads flapping wildly
over his sweat shirt and his outsize cleats
worn backward and on the wrong feet,
he manages to so dumfound the oppo-
sition that he scores touchdown alter
touchdown.

But success is his undoing. Inspired by
his new love, a cheerleader named Betty,
Einstein/McGee comes to believe that
he really is the greatest football player
in the history of State. On the night be-
iore the big championship game with
Tech—the night on which he had origi
nally planned to make his pitch for the
studious life—the old man gets drunk and
delivers instead a hysterical pacan to
sport and the team. When, the next day,
he meets his comeuppance at the hands
of the superior Tech eleven, he sadly real-
izes that his great opportunity has been
lost forever. Despised now for having lost
the game, he returns to his professorship,
reflecting that, “after all, football isn't
everything,” then drifts off into a day
dream of his moments of glory carrying
the ball for State.

It is, of course, fruitless to try to convey
anything of the true flavor of an Einstein
movie by simply synopsizing the plot. In-
deed, as one contemporary critic re-
marked, an Einstein comedy is not so
much a coherent story as а “tenuously
connected series of energetic and outré
dance tableaux." Then, too, American
audiences have found The Professor a
particularly disturbing film for quite an-
other reason. Made in Berlin, with a Ger-
man cast, by a man who knew virtually
nothing about the rules of American foot-
bali and not much more about our
campus ambience, the work takes on a
disjointed, surrealistic quality that many
American viewers find to verge on menace.
For this reason, The Professor never did
well here commercially, even after Ein
stein's film reputation was firmly estab-

150 lished, though much of the zany football

shtick that he created reappeared almost
intact the following year іп Harold
Lloyd's highly regarded The Freshman.

The Professor did not make
star overnight. In fact, its most immediate
effect was to stir up a certain amount of
resentment in both the German govern-
ment and the ranks of the established
German directors. Lang, for example,
was no doubt only half joking when
he suggested to Einstein at the Berlin pre-
miere of the film, “Stick to physics if you
know what's good for you," a sentiment
that was to be echoed with increasing
vehemence, and ultimately with legal
sanction, for the remainder of Einstein's
moviemaking career.

Moreover, the general public was some-
what confused by the turn the physicist’s
career had taken. Was this the same Ein-
stein as in E = mc? For as long as he
made films, Einstein was plagued by the
public’s confusion of his works with those
of the great Russian director Sergei Eisen-

stein, and while otherwise renowned for
his graciousness and equanimity, the

physicist/film maker was notorious for
his outbursts on this subject. “That Rus-
sian idiot is murdering me at the box of-
fice!” he complained in a 1926 letter to
Fatty Arbuckle shortly after the opening
of Eisenstein's masterpiece Potemkin.
"Everyone thinks I've lost my comic
touch." (Arbuckle's reply, more laudable
for its sentiment than for its erudition, as-
sured Einstein that The Professor was
“twice as funny as Potemkin any day.”)

Einstein, then, found himself in the
disquieting position of being received
with open arms as a scientist but
cold shoulders as a film maker. The crit-
ics, especially, were reluctant to take him
seriously, even those few who regarded
the slapstick genre as a legitimate form of
expression. Like his well-known violin
playing, his first movies were treated as
nothing more than a harmless recreation.
Since we would never think of comparing
him to Heifetz, the reasoning went, why
should we compare him to Chaplin?
tingly, it was Chaplin himself who
provided the answer. After the Ameri-
can premiere of The Genius in 1926,
the “Little Tramp” exclaimed, “I once
prided myself on being the Einstein of
the movies. Now 1 find that Einstein
himself is.”

With that, it was not long before every-
one jumped on the band wagon. From
not being taken seriously at all, Einstein
found himself taken too seriously. A pop-
ular critical pastime of the day was to
somehow interpret his art in the light of
his science, a tack that led to such reduc-
tio ad absurdum approaches as the one
by the critic who tried to analyze the
multilevel tracking montages of the big
chase scene іп The Genius as a crude
demonstration of the special theory of
relativity.

The Genius represents the high-water
mark of Einstein's film career. Yt stands in

relation to his cinematic oeuvre as the
general theory does to his scientific con
tributions. In it, the submerged themes of
the football films—militarism and
tionalism—are no longer metaphorized
diron and alma mater but are dealt
ale frontal assault.

An old scientist (essentially the "cuddly
professor" again). whose career has here-
tofore been dedicated to the technology
of destruction, decides at the end of his
Ше to urn his enormous intellectual
resources to the invention of a "universal
love potion," a chemical agent that will
bring about the age-old dream of peace
on earth and international cooperation
In a brilliant burlesque of the process of
scientific research, Einstein takes his pro-
tagonist through a series of experimental
failures, such as the love potion that turns
out to be merely an aphrodisiac and
that sends the scientist's assistant (played
by that irrepressible vaudevillian Max
Planck, іп a rare screen appearance) оп а
rampage of misdirected amorous advances
(cows, dogs, pillows, chickens, Einstein);
or the portion that has the reverse of the
intended effect, producing for a while
universal hatred and world war. (The
ight track,
us опе”)

Each failure finds the Genius more de-
pressed and desperate, for he feels chat he
is in а race against time. Often he is on
the verge of despair and considers giving
up the project and spending his remain-
ing days making “a really big bomb.” But
his faithful housekeeper, brilliantly ren-
dered by the aging Marja Sklowdowska,
consoles and encourages him, ignoring
his consistent impatient rebuffs. She is a

in the lab, always tenderly dusting
her way through the maze of glassware
and bubbling retorts, until one day, over-
whelmed with old age and unrequited
love, she quietly dies. Planck discovers
her body while perpetrating a highly
imaginative perversion on a reflux con
denser, and screams for his boss. Finstein
arrives. clearing half the length of the
laboratory in one enthusiastic but poorly
coordinated vault of his Pogo stick. Sud-
denly, the truth. of his housekeeper's
devotion comes through to him. “Oh,
Max,” he wails, rising sheepishly from the
smoke and shattered glassware, “1 see
it all now. The universal love potion is
love itself!

As it was for so many stars of the silent
era, the talkie was to be Einstein's Water-
loo. In addition to being an accom-
plished viol he acquitted himself
admirably on spoons, kazoo, jew's-harp
and yodeling (Alpine). The pleasure he
took in exercising these talents was leg-
endary, and as soon as the audio processes
were perfected (using, incidentally, the
same photoelectric effect that he had de-
d in his Nobel Prize-winning paper

(concluded on page 179)

[PELA AMANT

ПЕ O

БӘ)

152

ARILYN COLE, the girl from Portsmouth, England, is
№ going places—literally as well as figuratively. Our

gatelold girl of January 1972 is spending every
spare moment (and penny) seeing as much of the world as
she can; and the editors of PrAvnov have chosen her as Play-
mate of the Year—1973. Marilyn's fans will recall that we dis-
covered her after she'd left Portsmouth to seek her fortune
in London—where, as luck would have it, she applied for a
job as a Playboy Bunny at our local hutch in Park Lane. She
worked as a cottontail before and after trying her wings in
the public-relations field—coordinating promotional activi-
ties for her former hutchmates, fielding requests from the
press, and so on. In recent months, however, she's been con-
centrating on modeling—a career that, like Bunnyhood, al-
lows her maximum flexibility in scheduling her time. “I used
to think I'd be bored, posing for photographers,” she re-
members. "But now that I'm getting accustomed to it, it's
rather fun." It hasn't been easy, however, for Marilyn to
become established as a mannequin. "I'm not the right size,”
she explains, adding with customary candor: “Most of the
models 1 know have no boobs at all, or at least not big
ones." When she does finish a lucrative assignment, Marilyn
tushes home to the Mayfair apartment she shares with three
Bunnies, packs her bags and takes off in pursuit of her latest
passion: travel. "If I've got the money, I go," she says.
"Maybe just for two weeks on the Costa del Sol. I've also
made it to Morocco, Moscow. Switzerland—and Crete, but
that was an expense-paid trip to shoot some of these pic
tures, after I was chosen Playmate of the Year.” Glad to be
of help, Miss Cole. You're entitled—to that and much more.
At а cocktail party planned for May 15 at the Playboy
Mansion West, she was to be presented to press, radio and
television by Hugh M. Hefner, (text concluded on page 212)

“Getting involved with Ployboy—both the Clubs and the magazine
—has been wonderful for me,” says Marilyn. "ОЁ course, I never
reolly expected this—becoming Playmate of the Year. Now that

I've been given this lovely Volvo sports car, | guess ІЛІ have to
learn to drive. In London, I’ve never had the need to; but it
be fun to hove my own cor ond motor out into the country:

with lots af “sun
— Crete, where this pi
course, we hod to avoid
while we were shooting nud
have been chased away ar di
she made a forinight’s
Switzerland. "I tried ski
I found that hard work!

“Another country I’ve visited is Morocco. A friend
and | drove down from Tongier to Cobo Negro. Тһе
poverty is horrifying, but the villages are beautiful.
It wos windy and hot, and the dust was flying about
the Berbers and their veiled wemen wolking beside
their donkeys on the way to market. little choppies
sat at the roadside, trying to sell с couple of

Pitiful ald figs. We bought some caftons, but we're
not as good at bortering as they are. You know os
soon as they say ‘OK’ that you've been jobbed.”

“Moscow was quite a contrast. I spent four doys
there, on a guided tour— think thor's the only

way to see а place like that. Otherwise, you wouldn't
know what to look for. It was wintertime ond I

was freezing. But | like definite climates ond I

loved walking with the Muscovites along the streets—
which were being cleaned of snow and ice by women.
1 saw the Bolshoi Bollet, the Red Army chorus

and doncers, the beautiful subway, the Kremlin

апі museums with the Fabergé eggs. Fantastic!”

157

“Му other greot love, besides travel, is riding my white gelding, Seamus.
After several months of lessons, he ond I are learning to jump. It's frightening,
really. I'm steady but a bit chicken in most things. Like riding to hounds.

1 used to think | wanted to do it, but now I’ve about decided I'd rather
watch. | would join in only if | knew I had a reolly drowsy horse. In the hunt
yov have about 100 horses, of which 75 ore usually out cf control. It's

very difficult to stop о horse once it lets go." We have o feeling thor
whatever coreer Marilyn chooses, she, too, will be hord to rein in.

THE VARGAS GIRL

"It's obvious you're ready
[or a Great Leap Forward."

the machaca rebellio

some TIME before Simón Bolivar, with his
British and Irish troops. won the Battle
of Boyacá and swept into Bogotá, that
sleepy colonial capital had begun to stir
with revolutionary ideas. It was there that

Antonio Nariño translated the Declara-

1794 and it
that the

tion of the Rights of Man
was in the Nueva Granada
comunero uprising against Spanish power
ce. “But what of the rights of
woman?” thought the lovely Luz Marina
quez, weeping behind her vci

e took her off to the nuptial Mass
would celebrate her marriage to
Juan Carlos Morales, a man whose very
compliments filled her with hatred.

Lu; Marina's most revolutionary idea
was to be allowed to marry the man she
loved, but Joaquin Cortés Mejia was the
son of a plain merchant, while Juan Car
los was an aristocrat and landowner. And
so the marriage had been arranged be-
tween the two old families. Luz Marina
had shur herself in her bedchamber and
had demonstrated hysterics for two days.
ally, her father had gone to her and
am aware that many vicious and
French notions about. personal
liberty are current nowadays, but 1 chink
you will find very few of them in the
convent where you will live the rest of
your life unless you agree to marry Juan
Carlos without further uproar, Further-
more, I am unconcerned that you find
him a cold, cruel, unintelligent young
with a cast in his left еуе, as you keep
saying. 1 suggest that you find a more suit-
able description for your husband
when Joaquin returned from a bu:
trip to Popayán, he heard the bad news.

He was a little shocked but not at all

all. he had been enjoying
the delights of a revolutionary and quite
informal marriage for nearly six months
in Luz Marina's bed. At her family's саза.
there was a certain secluded stretch of
garden wall: there was a broad-branched
tree; there was a erous but possible
slope of tile roof; and there was a balcony
at Luz Marina's window. Joaquin had
learned the way of combining all of these
things. In love, as in life, one must some-
times scale. sometimes creep on trcach
erous footing and sometimes let oneself
drop from a height, in order to exercise
personal liberties. И might be added that
the demu i lady had developed an
erotic tale e unparalleled in the
whole of the sdbana de Bogola.

Two weeks after the wedding, a sour
and angry Juan Carlos descended on the
house of his father-in-law in order to dis-

t yor
4

cuss the eccentricities of his bride. "She
categorically refuses to share my bed!" he
burst out when they were alone. “The

са.

consumn

rriage has not bee
Hninaginable!” exclaimed Don Е
lipe. “Why don't you simply seize her? I,
myself. when younger —

“h is not that eas

replied Juan

Carlos. "She keeps to her chambers with
her maid, who brings her food and other
She swears to set the house
cross the threshold
In the meantime, Joaquin had been
passing by and had noted Juan Carlos’
horse in the courtyard, He slipped inside
the walls and made his way to the libra
window, where he hid and listened.
“You must end this ridiculous situ
at once.” said Don Felipe. "Tonight yo
will send all your servants away for three
days.” He went to а cabinet and took out
а cage in which there w:
broad-winged insect of a dirty gre
“As you know, 1 am something ol an
amateur of science. This liule creature
is called а machaca, a beast renowned
among the Indians. Whe bi
victim must have—insanely desires to
have—sexual intercourse immed
Otherwise, the result is certain death
“She may prefer death to me," s
n Carlos gloomily
Not after she has been stung by th
iswered Don Felipe. “А machaca bite
would make Saint Agnes rip off her
clothes; it would make the Islas Virgenes
couple with the Continent. It triples both
desire and potency. But beware! Those
who are bitten must grapple very shortly
else they fall into a drowsiness, thence
10 а deep sleep and, after that, d.
1, myself, in my youth"
TH be cautious,” sai
When she is in her bath,"
Felipe, “you must steal into her bedroom,
shake the cage 10 stun the machaca tor
отет, put it in the bed, then replace
the covers before the monster can come to
its senses. The rest is up to fortune.”
"ifngenioso!" cried Juan Carlos with
an ugly smile. “If this is effective, I shall
have her; il it is not, [shall be rid of her.”
Joaquin rose silently from his hiding
place and set off to find an old Indi
woman who dealt in charms, potions
nd. on occasion, insects
Once back at his hacienda
ited the time when Luz Ma

es, dts

J^

Juan
ina took.

ILLUSTRATION BY BRAD HOLLAND

Ribald Classic

from Tales of
Nueva Granada, 1825

he sking sure that the maid wa
absent, he forced the bedroom door and
stole into the room with his little cage.
He reached down and pulled back the
covers—but as he did so, he found, to his
horor, three machacas already there.
Swift as a snake, one of them bit his hand
Juan Carlos roared and dropped the
age. Then, like he burst into
the bathroom, only to find it empty.
Shouting for his wife. he began to rage
about the house—but she was nowhere to
be found, Nor was there even a servant
girl at hand, since he had dismissed the
whole of his ménage for three days. In a
cold sweat, һе ran to the stables, saddled
his horse and rode off.

Meanwhile, Luz M:
behind the locked doc
room, were enjoying an erotic frenzy of a
kind they had never imagined. They had
deliberately allowed the machacas to bite
them and they had discovered seven new
positions. Luz Ma astride
and galloping madly

Juan Carlos was also gallopi
headed for a bordello. He noticed that
the city was in а state of turmoil. The
streets were full of people and there were
soldiers everywhere, but he could not
stop to inquire what had happene
When he reached the house he was seek-
p. he reined up in astonishment. The
street was full of a long linc of soldiers in
unfamiliar, ragged uniforms, all waiting
to enter the door in turn.

а and Joaquín,
of the master bed-

а was now

re

liberated the town and all men
equal now

Juan Carlos turned away in despair.
He rode for a short time and sleepiness
began to overtake him. He slumped in his
addle. A few yards farther on. a young
British lieutenant caught his body just as
it was pitching to the ground.

Thus did Boli
liberty y to Colomb
lovely Luz Marina as well.
—Retold by Roger N. White

"s revolution

ng
but to the

[y] 161

Where The

|
We m

personality

By pil Gilbert

casey tibbs was maybe the
best cowboy ever, so naturally he
wound up in hollywood

“pip vov EVER сат of a guy named
Casey Tibbs?”

“He was in rodeo twenty years or
so ago. Sort of а horsy Mickey Man-
tle. What happened to hin?"

“He went to Hollywood. Right
now he’s pushing something called
the Casey Tibbs Wild Horse Round-
up. It sounds like a dude thing. He's
trying to get people to pay seven
hundred and fifty dollars a head to
go with him, smell a real horse. You
want to go along? It might һе funny.”

“Where does it go fiom?”

"He's mailed the stuf] from Los
Angeles, but it says you meet in
the Falcon Café in Pierre, South
Dakota.”

“I was there once. I started out
from Pierre when I was looking
for black-footed ferrets. They have
pictures of Casey Tibbs all over the
Falcon Café.”

You want t0 go?”
“Sure. I could use some relief.”

“I had а hell of a time, I really
did.”

“How was Casey?”

“He's sort of harassed, but he's an
appealing guy. I liked him а lol.”

“Was it a dude thing?”

"И was meant to be, bul the dudes
got Lost in the shuffle. He had about
six things he was trying to juggle at
once, which made it more interestin,
than it would have been otherwise.

“Is it going to be any kind of a
story?”

“You know how stories are when
you've had a good tine, been with
people you like. They're harder to

do, Bad scenes are easier to write
about.”

“To coin a phrase, ГИ wait with
bated breath.”

“Don't hold it.”

West of the wide Missouri, north
of the Platte, east of the Rockies,
there was (and still are remnants of)
à great swath of prairie that was a
major part of the American horse
The grass was so thick, hard
a stallion could hold
is mares in one swale from the time
foaled until the foals could keep
up with the herd. There was once
so much grass that a herd could run
three w and never run out о
Now there is only three days’ ru
left, but that's still a lot of gra
it's still cinch high
lopes through it, it
like gende rollers. breaking
a low beach.

из wells

country

d
ad when a horse
swishes, soundi

tered country, cut by
sweet rivers, the Cheyenne, Grand,
Powder, Yellowstone, Bighorn,
Bighorn. Thickets of
wild rose and plum grow along the
river bottoms, providing shade in
the summer, a break of sorts against
the wind and snow in the winter.
Therc are islands risi
nd ridges the
tops of which are cleared of fies by
the wind and on which a man,
presumably a horse, can stand cool-
ind and body. At the same
time, he cam wach anything t
stands higher than the grass move
anywhere betwe
It has always been a good place
for horsemen, commencing with the

ше

cotton wood.

bove thc

ss, buttes

sea of g

the horizons.

SCULPTURE BY PARVIZ SADIGHIAN

163

Northern Cheyenne, the Hunkpapa and
the Oglala Sioux. Always outnumbered,
outequipped and outlied, the tribes held
the forces of what is sometimes called
Western civilization at bay for 75 years
because they were the best light cavalry-
men the world has even scen. By and by,
the Cheyenne and the Sioux were rubbed
out, imprisoned and debauched, and
Crazy Horse's parents cut ош his heart
nd buried it under the sca of grass in a
secret place on Wounded Knee Creek.
Then white horsemen moved into the

PLAYBOY

It would serve no point except to stir
up chauvinistic de
best white
dr

wrangler

of the old
n inordinate
number of them came from someplace be-
tween Cheyenne and the Missouri. Boys
growing up in that country fertilized with
zy Horse's heart learned horsework
rly and well and often nothing else.
Having learned this work, this way of life,
they tended to regard all other i
—farm, tractor, shop and br:
demeaning and contemptible. It is the
man-om-horseback syndrome, the fara
tude of the Hun and the Tartar, the
Cheyenne and the Sioux: is still to an
extent that of the red and white men who.
were born on these American steppes.
One such is Casey Tibbs. who was born

1929 in a sod-and-cottonwood cabin at
the head of a draw overlooking the Chey-

cunc River, more or less in the middle of
South Dakota. Th a name, Mi
sion Ridge, but
the wrong side of the river from the near-
est village, Eagle Butte, which is on the
heyenne River Ind
tion. The nearest town is Fort Pierre,
some 50 miles away.

is about 25 miles and on

where we could work horses, I guess that's
why he stayed in this Godforsaken place
and why I started out from here.” says
bs, brooding over the rotted remains
of his longabandoned boyhood home.
“We'd plow an acre or so up yonder
above that spring. put in a few warermel
ons and a little sweet corn, but otherwise
my old man didn't have much use for
t care for much but horse
times was best he ran two
П on this side of the river
hell of a hand with them.
ason to lie

farming, did
. Whe
thousand h
and he w:
Oldtimers who have no re
cla
couldn't
man could.
1 started working regular with him,
g horses, when I was maybe ten
years old. We'd just let them out of that
old chute that lays in a pile over there
and let them rip right up the draw. I re-
member one time, I'd been raising some
164 hell. My old man didn't say anything, just

m that on the best day I ever had I

de а bucki

g horse like my old

br

put me up on a mean-looking old sorrel.
When I came out, he sicked a feisty little

old dog we had around on me. That dog
commenced yapping and that ham

er-
headed son of a buck went straight up
and took off, climbed right up the side of
that draw in the steep place. He hit the
top and popped his heels up over me a
couple of umes, left me with my head
drove imo the ground up to mighty near
ту сат». 1 came limping back and my old
man asks me did 1 enjoy the excitement,

When he was 13, having had enough of
this sort of education, Tibbs left Mission
Ridge. “J broke horses for the Diamond
A, а big New Mexican outfit tha
lot of cattle up here. Then a cook shot a
foreman. It's a long story, but they want-
ed me to work on the [ence crew, which I
didn't want to do. I drifted around some
and when I was fourteen or so, I started
hitting the rodeo pretty fair and. after
that I just sort of busted loose

Rodeo was not and does not give the
feel of being consciously invented as,
Abner Doubleday and Dr. Naismith
vented their games for athletic youth.
There
bout rodeo, like a spl
of flesh. Rodeo was made by and for men
who suffered from the peculiar version of
Western American cafard, who were half-
mad from boredom, fright, loneliness, ex-
haustion, worl ig and hard in a
country that ig and harsh.
Rodeo was a rele ien so desp
for release that they used wha
hand—the stock, the rope:
they foi I day—and or
country game that is not too different in
spirit from Russian rouletc.

There is sill something about rodeo
that suggests а vicious practical joke.
“Fuck you. Lash. Get me up on that ham-
erheaded son of a bitch and ГИ ride

sense of compulsion, necessi
er working out

is

n or kill him."
up.

“Put him

diui

He's so goddamned

the changes, embellish-
ments, perhaps corruptions, there is still
something of the Y. М.С.А. about bas-
ketball, of vacant smalliown lots about
baseball. In the same way, cleaned up,
watered down, declining, the substance
of rodeo sug ЖЕТІ
1d on the bum
would find a relief, good fun after brea
ing horses for the Diamond А

Despite all

catfish sandwiches, rodeo is a region:
de y that does not travel well. Gussied
up with clowns. comic announcers, gue
celebs, ne Society picket line
e crowds in New
York, Boston, Chicago, Houston and Los
Angeles. But they are largely crowds of
curiosity or gore seekers. The whole hap-
pening—performers in John Wayne
clothes trying to manhandle horses and

cows, being stomped on by the stoci
now so foreign to the experience and.im-
agination of most that it is not credible as
an exhibit of competitive athletic skill,
discipline and ingenuity. Generally,

is regarded as a kind of kinky, cou
variety act,

ys

з left of the Western horse
country or where the memory of that
country is fresh, rodco is still the sport, is
still taken seriously as a way for а man
to comment on himself, other men and
the world; an athletic art form thi
spectator can learn from if he studies it
carefully. Оп the top т
bleached-cottonwood corral Sun-
day-afternoon jackpot rodeos, there атс
students and critics who can or
praise the artistry and character of a
bronc or а bronc rider as perceptively
and pungently as a Philadelphia play-
ground crowd can dissect the moves of a
68" forward.

Rodeo railbirds, like all hard-core fans,
are generally contemptuous of what
they're actually sccing: the present crop
of riders and ropers, "There's that worth-
less kid of Lon
a sheep in litte britches [the rodeo
equivalent of little league]. Whats he
doing trying broncs? Looks like he wishes
he had himself a sheep right now.

Rodeo connoisseurs pine for and inces-
sandy gossip about the good old days
when men were men and bucking horse:
bucked rather than twitched as if a fly
were bothering them. When the railbirds
get to pining and gossiping. the chances
are good that somebody will have some-
thing to say about the former 13-year-old
runaway from Mission Ridge.

“I seen оГ Case the best ride he ever
made. He sort of poured hisself on, you
know how he was then, on that old roan,
Goodbye. It was over in Cheyenne
in——"

“ГИ be go to hell if that was Cheyenne.
Tt was in Casper. Anyways, Goodbye w.
no roan. He was a buckskin

"Now, wait up a goddamned min-
wem

A lot of stories, some funny, some ad-

iring, some malicious, circulate about
Tibbs, told to the ройи of how
па when he dissipated his talent: Casey
Tibbs going courting purple Cad-
illac: doing 110 miles an hour trailing
gravel and state cops in his wake; Casey
dropping a 540.000 oil lease in a game in
Tibbs brawling in front of the
Palace. However, there arc no
stories to the effect that he did not have
the talent. Wherever he got it, he brought
as much or morc of it to the тойсо ring as
any man ever has, He had, for lack of a
better word, horse sense: a special, s
knowledge of what could be done and
(continued on page 170)

„Пе

watch it! behind that self-effacing facade lurks a sensational duplex

ou OF ROBERT C. PRITIKIN'S neighbors are going to be surprised when they read this.

You see, the exterior of his apartment building—that's partment building
sit all that spectacular, It stands next to a laundry on a shady street in San Francis-
соз Pacific Heig i ead

even inconspicuously
ut there's a

iting you if you should ever visit Mr. Pritikii
vertising executive, in the second of the six ments. A carpeted

toa balustrade overlooking a two-story living room. You descend vi; ccful circular

PHOTO Y JEFF COHEN

PLAYBOY PAD:

BIGGER THAN A
BREADBOX

165

A close look ot orchitect
Crutchfield's floor plan
shows the spectacular

use of space—particularly
in the two-story living
room, which opens

onto o swimming

pool and a gorden.

Ss,
omoi f TrA
Шм коом ER
Ест О

E
E
онно
өсөн
E
Joon
RAN
x
ET |
E

UPPER LEVEL,
ENTRANCE
FLOOR

LOWER LEVEL,
MAIN FLOOR

The living room (right) is the heart of the cportment, and perfect
for entertaining. The lights under the balcony are used for video-
toping sessions, which frequently enliven Pritikin’s parties; a paint-
ing by local ortist Ted Rand covers the sliding panel that opens
vp 10 reveal the monitor (below), as well as o regulor TV set.

architect Robert
tuan glass doors

staircasc—designed. like the rest of the apartment, by

Crutehfield—and find yourself facing seven gar
‘They open at your touch and the living room expands to embrace
an L-shaped swimming pool and a luxurious garden boasting full-
sized trees and giant hanging plants. Above is a balcony that sup-
ports a dining area and a “library”; the latter is enriched by mahogany
paneling and a brown velvet wall sporting three stained-glass windows,
hundreds of years old. The decor of the apartment, reflecting Pritikin's
myriad interests, is eclectic to the nth degree, On display are spears
that he brought back fom Australia; antique coffee grinders from

The view from the balcony shows the raised fireplace and the self-cleoning
pool—which, like the garden, requires virtually no maintonance. Below: A
bronze by Benny Bufono. the late San Francisco sculptor, adorns the pool
Pipedin music ond rhecstokcontrolled lighting help keep the otmosphere
cozy; privacy is afforded by the shrubbery ond the high surrounding wells.

Л
ES e

&
К

The leather-and-steel choirs of the dining area are situated so that guests con see the panorama below. In the foreground is on antique coffee
grinder, one of three thet Pritikin picked up in Guatemala while he wat recording on-the-spot radio commercials for Folger's coffee; since Guate-
mala won't allow “antiques” ta leave the country, he brought them out as household appliances. Below left: A couple pauses on the circular
staircase. Below right: One of ће apariment’s two bedrooms. It has wall-to-wall closets, its awn enclosed garden (at right) ond o hi-fi unit
designed by Vigneri, a local artist, Louvered shutters above the bed, opening to the living-room bar, keep occupants from feeling cooped in.

bee

Right: Guests toke time out 10 odi

Bufono sculpture. The white-nylon owning
over the glass doors is electronically co
trolled; the pool area can be heated by
the infrared device on the righthond woll.

Guatemala: pieces of magic apparatus used by Carter the Great, a popular wizard of the
Twenties: and literally thousands of mementos and ar objects. They range from kinetic
sculptures, which Pritikin doesnt necessarily recommend (7H the artist s out of town

and the sculpt ves on the blink, you" t 2 heavy problem") to a Hl, worthle

rock" that. according to Pritikin, "represents my thoughtless contribution to the dete
ration of the Colosseum in Rome.” And that's а sobering reference, in the context of the
Bay Area: for if Sau Francisco is ever leveled by the natural catastrophe that all the scien
tits are predicting, Pritikin’s pad. like the Colosseum. may be reduced to fragments
For the foreseeable future, however. the man has а good thir X. Аза recent. guest
of his remarked—in an understatement for sure— "Anybody in the city could do worse

PLAYBOY

Where The West Has ПР continued from page 164)

body and
jous sense

how. He had a great athlete’

coordi myste:
ipation like balance. He
quality that is absolutely necessary
»od horseman and athlete is t0 become
rodeo winner—a disdain for costs and
consequences. recklessness raised to а
d of lunatic power.

Before he had to shave regularly.

су had busted out of the Dakota
pots into Cheyenne, Calgary, Pendleton,
Tucson. Los Angeles. New York. He won
his first saddle-bronc. championship in
1949, was the World's Champion АП
Around Cowboy in 1055, winning more
than 10.000. It was not only that he won
but how he won. He had a style. generated.
! excitement that brought customers
to arenas, brought them to their feet
онсе they were inside. He rode as а few

€

men hi
way as to leave others thinkin
what a marvelous, beautiful thing à man
is when once in à blue moon he busts out,
brings everything together. By all ac-
counts, from the testimony of the cotton-
wood raibirds, he left knowledgeable
men with the leeling that they were better
olf for having been in Cheyenne-Casper
when оГ Case came out of the chute on
the roan buckski

“Irs a funny thing. E lea
what T knew about bucking hoi
my old man, down on the Cheyenne
River. but he hated rodeo, thought it was
а bum’s life. The first time I come back,
I'd been doing real good. won in Boston,
а couple of places like that. 1 came
back with the works, a filty-dollar hat,
hundred-«dollar boots, a Studebaker car
that was before the purple Cadillac,
which you bout—and
Thad five, six thousand dollars cash in my
pocket. My folks thought Га robbed ә
bank. When Т explained where I'd got it.
my old man wasn’t much better pleased
than if | had robbed a bank. His idea of a
good job was breaking horses for some
cow өшін for ten dollars a head. If he
could see me now, wranglin dudes, hed
probably still thought he was right."

By the time he was 25, Tibbs was a su-
perstar of rodeo, holding much the same
position that. Mick id at that
me in baseball. Besides being contem-
poraries, there are many si
сеп the two. Both аге Weste шу
one from South. Dakota, the other
Oklahoma, with strong-willed fa
thers. Both hit the big time as precocious
teenagers and both have had celebrity
problems, been beser by hustlers. sharpies,
hangers-on, bad.advice artists. Both have
made the establishment of their sports
isy, except when the gate was being
counted, and both were dropped like hot

such а

balls or rim or fight
bout.

ed most. оГ

s from

е bound to hi

170 coals when the talent burned out. The

greatest similarity is that both possessed
an immense, raw talent that they spent
prodigiously to entertain others; neither
ever able to refine, conserve, profession-
alize.

1 don't know anything
me,” said Mantle
m sitting in the Ti
room. He has two more painful seasons
left. His legs and shoulder ache from old
injuries and continuing neglect. His head
hunts from too much Saturday night. “I
could outrun the mistakes I made in the
outfield. 1 ran bases good because 1 had
the wheels, but most of the time I never
knew wh: igns were. 1 could hit. I
still can some, but 1 don't know why. I
don't think 1 could teach anyone else
10 hit.

Libbs is sitting in the Fa
liene. Before Feds, bool
leaned on him, he owned а pi
Falcon. Saddles, buckles, wophi
old photos of Tibbs when he was being
touted as the world’s best cowboy still
decorate the walls. “The cowboy stulf is
comical,” ol” Casey says. “1 always was a
sorry roper. I could rope a horse better
than E could a steer, T just never was that
interested in cowpunching. When I was
going for all-around I rode bulls, but I
didn’t like it much. Didn't like. damn; 1
don't even like to look at them now. They
scare the piss out of me. But what I could
do was ride broncs. I just could."

Besides his talent, Tibbs had some
other things going for him that, though
le him no better a bronc vid
in the end, finished him on the
лоп, initially made him a bigger and
heuer celebrity. The fading news photos,
the Life cover portrait hanging
Falcon Café testify that he must have
heen one of the best-looking men ever to
ride out of South Dakota. Wiry, hipless,
curly-headed, fresh, clean-faced—he was
the romantic image of that young cowboy
who has walked down the streets of La-
redo through the American mind for a
century or so. Also, this pretty boy from
the Cheyenne River tumed out to be, or
soon turned into, a hell
order. Good looks never hurt any enter-
er and hell g i part of the
good old days, which, in a sense, rodeo
is designed to recreate and memorial-
ize, the whoopee-Tm-justout-olthe-sid-
dle, loadedfor-bear tradition. By all
accounts, by his own. Tibbs did not have
to force himself to do his bit to uphold this
uadition. To the ancient rodeo
‘Ain't a horse can't be rod
can't be throwed.” he added a few of his
own more or less to the effect, “
bottle can't be drunk, ain't
can't be filled, ain't a broad c

Tibbs’s attempt to live up to the social
code of the West and add some persona

about this
Sunday alter
т Stadium lock

onc

ме in
and wives
есе of the
es he won,

Jeon Са
5

the

iser of the first

bra

it 15 sai

isis а 1, spectacular

and,

it were,
fact, he shortly became almost as
famous for how he lived outside the ring
s how he rode inside it. In 1956, after he
won the allaround championship, he Iis
tened to those who claimed that a man of
his rep and color did not have 10 keep
ау on a bronc saddle. “They
st E didn't

Dustin

were at Te
rodeo none to speak of lor the next two or
three years. kept doing exhibitions,
pewances. The money kept rollin
1 kept livi new what the cow
boys were say а hotdog—but it
didu'i bother me much, 1 was having a
hell of a time. 1 knew I could st
herrer n most of them and they knew

The perils of celebrityhood being wha
they are, there was a chance, in fact а
necessity, for Tibbs to prove his point. In
1958 he signed up for a wild West and
rodeo show that Gene Autry and others
g to the Brussels Worlds
production left European
ces cold and ihe show went
bankrupt. leaving Tibbs, 200 assorted
cowboys and. Indians to shift for
selves, "E guess that was the sn
do, why Gene is where he
I'm where I'm at, but it was tough on us.
We more or less swum back. I come here,
ed with my brothers, got pretty hard
Then I hit tli
П there was. 1 was broke and hard.
ad as hell and 1 think I rode
good in 759 as I ever did. Anyway, I won
the saddle-bronc championship again

How many more championships there
might have been. how long the talent
would have held up is still a matter of
speculation among rodeo buffs, but it is
all speculation. After 1959, Tibbs gave up
ag off his talent, moved to Hollywood
nd figuratively а
Hollywood. cowboy then. he
ived more or less by his wits. Working out
ofa pad just off Sunset Strip. he has ped-
dled the one asset that nobody could at-
tach, foreclose or repossess—ihe name
and reputation made with his talent in
rodeo rings. He has sold Gasey Tibbs as a
bit player, stunt. man, second unit direc-
tor; he has used the name to promote а

were

send

The

deo because it was

nd
about as

nd became literally

Since has

Japanese rodeo tour, to sell lots ("Own a
achete. in God's country”), Western

style clothes. Опе time he rounded up
some of his old rodeo pals and went back
to South Dakota and produced a movie of
his own, Born to Buck, "1 still feel pretty
good about that, even though 1 damn
near killed myself trying to swim a horse
cross the N i River. It was a prey
good movie, a good dean show for the
Kids, but the hell of it is, not n хе
seen it. 1 couldn't get the big distributors
to touch it. 1 could tell you some stories
about those bastards. I ended up like a
Fuller Brush man, carrying it around the
country with me, trying to make deals
with independents. Hell, I had to rent an

any h

but I have ту

doubts about Mr. Forslyth.”

"I'm sure Miss Koosley is sleepwalking,

171

PLAYBOY

8

old blacked-out theater even to get it
shown in Pierre, my own home town.”

1n 1967, after Born to Buck and
ls had begun to go sour, T
went back to тойсо
the mo

lor a season.

some, but mostly it was for
relief. de
to think about, that wa
In a way, 1967 was more a test
his talent than were the bi
ship years. Tibbs w:
been a Hollywood cowboy for most of ten
years, but he rolled out of the soft sheets
and placed in the money in 18 of the 27
rodeos he ent few miscclla-
neous broken bones shelved him for good,
IL Vd get
pounds of this gut, get hard
Т could still ride. But riding isn't every-
thing. When vou get older. vou know too
much. You thinking about what
might happen. When you're a kid. you
know nothing can happen. One thing I
маш to be is a sorry old has-been,
hanging around alter h 1“
even go to rodeo now unless I'm paid f

thing. I was there

ig something 1 didn't have

nonial to
. champion-
s 38 years old, had

ed before а

get

son
once, but time passes.”

The fresh. clean. lean face has become
heavier, is marked. with pouches. veins
and wrinkles, The curly hair is graying
and there is. indeed. at least 20 pounds of
ound the middle. MI of which is
ace, just another way of saving
what Libs says—that time passes, Tibbs
is HE years old. bur a fiver. more present-

able than average 44. He is still a good-
looking man, an active onc, сап work a
horse better than almost any 44-year-old,
beuer than most of any age. He is

not, as some of the stories suggest, a

broken-down and broke derelict. He is
the king of the Hollywood cowboys or
hustlers, just one among many, but he
s regularly at jobs that most would
consider unusual and satisfying. “I got no
regrets, Гус done some things or at le
tried some that most don't get a crack at.”
That is a true claim, but the truth does
not allay the down-and-out stories or the
most reflexive tendency to deny regrets.
The stories the disclaimers have
noii 10 do with what Tibbs is: a re-
spectable, moderately successful Holly-
wood entrepreneur. ‘They have to do wit
maybe the most talented
n ever to ride a bucking horse.
A man con, is generally allowed. to,
live down errors. failures
iything but past m
s excite
mare possibilities, Descending
press hope. darken the read. They arc the
ultimate ill omens, and thus inevitably
objects of scorn and stander. If the best. a
onceina-blucmoon tale Yt cut
notch that lasts. then the prospects ol
everyone else me poor to imposible.

nd

m

his crimes

ber

поре.

de.

g ones

“Been bitin’ your nails? w your
hai? Chokim on the smog? Longin’ lor
the good getaway life? Then bust loose

"Yes—that's the man!”

nd come along on the casey Tines round-
up in beautiful South Dakota. You'll
cowboy with the top hands. Ride the un-
spoiled range you've heard about. Every
man owes hi ta taste of the
good life. The appli all
the info. so go to it.”

The Casey Tibbs Wild Horse Round-
up sounds flacky, but it is, in fact, such an
probable happening that if it does not
recreate the good getaway life everyone
has heard abou y come close to ap
of Western lile
nearly everyone has abandoned
nd forgotten boredom, chaos.
confusion, dirt, thirst, exhaustion, punc
tumed by high funny moments, bursts of
wild free-form action, bouts of œm-
pubive caousal.

In the frst place, the C. T. W. H.R
evolved back-asswards in comparison with
most dude enterprises. where the dudes
come first and the work is used for il-
lusionary and entertainment: purposes.
Tibbs started out with the work and the
dudes were mixed in Liter as necessity was
compounded by necessity. Over the years.
Tibbs had collected 200 or sa head of

jon sheet ha

horse who roamed n or less freely,
"or less illegally on the Cheyenne
River Indian Reservation, across the

iver from his old home place on Mission
ıt was cool enough
ix ranchers. who a

ad i

dmirers and old

men, rodeo

many cases

friends of

the BIA, in
effect had not gone te all the trouble of
heating the bejesus out of the Sioux, sct
ng them up on a uice reservation in the
middle of South 1 so that an ex-
rodeo hero could feed his horses free on
Federal grass. Something more orderly
had 10 be done

Май
whi
be worked out, or worked a
ceming veterinarian inspec
quarantincs. some of the herd m
sold in California, where they wor
worth a lot more than in South Dakota. If
he could use some of his rodeo contacts
some of them might be pushed as bucking
horses and т his, а few
a Sioux

bbs decided several

could

g might be done. И somethin

rest mares, с

be left w
ke the
is a good enough

stallions-
ranche could m
cine. АП of which w
plan, but complicated. The horses had
to be rounded up and moved out, which
would take help noney. This is
where the dudes сате into the mix. A
few wl 10

spend so chasing horses across
the reservation would uncomplicate a lot
of things For the dudes. with thei
money you could go first-class, hire

some Young studs to do the work. some
old cronies it would be good to se

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173

PLAYBOY

and who would entertain the dudes, lay
on a good cook and enough booze to float
a wingding across the prairie that would
entertain everybody—dudes, old cronies,
young studs and Sioux—and which is the
best way to make medicine of any sort on
the reservation. It was an arrangement
that could spread around a lot of relief.
From a strictly business point of view,
the only real trouble with dudes is that
there is an insufficiency of them: in fact,
only eight bona fide paying custom
except for a freelance pro-
ducer ("We put together a horror deal
last year, strictly commercial, beautiful")
who says beautiful much too often and
who quickly wins the name Hollywood
Harry, the dudes who do show are
no trouble, One reason is that Tibbs
has had more recent experience. wran-

Ts.

However,

gling dudes, in one form or another, tha
ngling horses.

“Judge, you know how Johnny is, he’s
akind of closemouthed cuss. He came up
to me and he said, “That judge and the
hoy were top hands. ‘They stayed with us
all day, didn’t get in the way, did some
real riding. Thats what Johnny said.
That horse that come backward on you, it
could have happened to any of us. I never
seen you had him until it was too late. I
don't think Га want to be on that ham-
merhcaded son of a buck.”

The judge (back in Chicago, he has a

picture of himself and Tibbs hanging in
his chambers and is called, affectionately
or otherwise, the cowboy judge) and the
boy fairly quiver with pride and vow to
Casey and the company that this is the
life, the real life.

The dudes are useful for more than
their money. "They are mostly suburban
horsemen and they do not ride as well as
the paid wranglers and the Sioux teen-
agers, but they are serious, responsible
men of affairs, as their 5750 checks—il
nothing else—testify. On the whole, they
take rounding up horses more seriously
than do the Indian boys, who know there
is a lot of country and that if you lose a
horse or two today you are likely to find
them tomorrow. The riding dudes, on the
other hand, believe that if you are
you should round
them up right, and so work their asses off
keeping the herd neat and tidy, like
а legal brief or an accounts-receivable
ledger. By and by, the dudes are sprin-
Kling their conversation with a few ham:
merheaded son of a bucks, self-consciously
waving their hats and yelling whooce to
head horses, in general getting into the
good getaway life, The life further tends
to wear on the dudes. Alter a day or
two the working ones lurch into camp
at night, have 2 medicinal belt or two
and go to bed, leaving further festivities

to round up horses,

to others.

The top hands are there as advertised.

Mostly they are old cronies of Casey's
from the reservation, from Pierre, from
the rodeo circuit of the Fifties. They ride
old worn saddles, wear hats of character,
tend to be thin, leathery men with little
podlike stomachs. For brief spells they
still move well, expertly and quickly; but
given any sort of choice or pretext, they
ride with the dudes, who, experience
has taught them, are сазісг to work than
horses. The arrangement is symbiotic.
The dudes get the satis[a
up with top hands, swapping stories.
being treated as equals. In return for a
Tiule bullshit, the top hands are able to
save their energy for the night. Also, they
are genuinely curious about the dudes. A
man who can shell out $750 to work for
Casey for a week is a rare creature, proba-
bly knows a thing or two worth knowin;
ancher,

ction of keeping

Pinky is a big moon faced Sioux
part-time game warden, lively drinker
and entertainer. At midnight or there-
about he is holding hard onto a cotton-
wood tree with one hand, a cin of Bud in
the other, all beside the Moreau River,
from which the vapors and mosquitoes
are rising, the bullfrogs croaking.

That old Jew doctor, he’s a fine man,”
vows Pinky fiercely, as if ready to fight
any man who would contradict him. “He
knows all about bugs and plants. 1 know
about big animals because I'm a game

m

warden, but he knows about those little
things. You know, he is the richest man I
ever talked to and the smartest. He is the
only Jew doctor I ever talked to. T
what he is, admits
it. Ain't nothing wrong with that. The
Jews and the Sioux are a lot alike. We
both been screwed. We ought to stick
together
“Scalp him, Pinky.”
“You goddamned cowboy. You're
trying to say that Pinky is а goddamned
Indian.”

“Youre just a
drunk asa skunk.”

Jew doctor, he

bad guy and you're
It’s be
guys are here. t. You guys
and that old Jew doctor and that judge

seldom.

ruse you

his is just gr

It's just great.”

"Hell
play guitar dia
“I can't. You're too drunk to tell the
difference. If I had any talent I wouldn't
be out here. Td be playing nights in a

Bud. 1 didn't know you could
ood.”

joint”
“You remember when Mulkey tried to
fly?

Remember, hell, 1 was there.”

“That's right, you Damnedest
thing you ever saw and I swear it's uuc,
but it's hard to believe. We'd ridden in

was.

Cheyenne and we was liv
that night
three floors. Mulkey says he's
out the window. Lays down fifty says he
ind steps out the window. After they
ished scraping him off the cement,
Nick takes him down to the hospital
Mulkey comes around and he is raising
hell with Nick for not stopping top.
you, vou son of a bitch, 1 had fifty down
with that bull rider on you m
“I told you I been training horses.
“You told mc.

“Well, dats wot strictly
haven't trained any horses in a y
been locked up. They
Thats why I'm here. I guess everyon
been wondering.”

TA
Casey’
"I am, but that's not the reason, I was
in a beef. a real bad one. 1 emptied a gun
into a man."

"Aha

“It was a personal thing. I'm not going
into it, bur they let me go alter eleven
and a half months, which for a beef like
that means I've got something on my side.
Righ?”

“Right.”

“Bur I can't go near a track. Hell, d
all I know except maybe hustling a little
pool. That's why I'm here. Tibbs set up
the deal, give me а chance to work, get

it up some

in that old hotel, up two or

going to fly

cd my licenses

gured you were an old buddy of

at's

out of California. That fucking Tibbs is
screwed up, but he’s a hell of a sı

guy. He's been there and come back a
couple of times and he don't forget the
guys he passed ala

‘The Wild Horse Roundup is probably

the way.”

tougher in several ways on Tibbs than on
anyone else. By age and inclination he

belongs with his old friends. the top

hands. laying back easy, cutting up old
touches. But he can't afford to do that.
The horses that are being gathered,

driven, separated. castrated, sold and pas
tured belong to him. The dudes
belong to him; and one of the things they
bought was the World's Best Cowboy,
and at the time the bargain was struck,
the qualifier "ex" was not played up big.
For business and image reasons, Tibbs
has to roll out at dawa like he was still 25
still full of piss and vinegar

‘The stud of them all is Johnny Chuck.
a big, swarthy one, all shoulders and
arms. Johnny is a nephew who recruited
the other young studs, white and red
wranglers, t0 do the real
Johnny has a brooding look,
mostly artificial by reason of the cud of
snuff perpetually behind his lower lip.

also

horsework.
which is

Also, he seems always about to explode

inner rage that
ves the impr.
is in front of him

from а sort of scethin
may bc genuinc. Не
of attacking whatevei

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PLAYBOY

176

“Close those draperies, will ya, fella? Some
of us like a litile privacy!”

а calf, a stallion, a loose cinch, a can
of beer

Johnny comes in the {им morning
across the prairie on a dead run, lashing

with his reins.
(darks behind

the neck of a horse
spurring. spraying dew ar
He yanks the gray |
down on his haunches a few feet in front
of the fire, jumps off and deadpan. in a
kind of classic Western badman whisper
quires, "Case, you want to make medi-
cine with me?" It is a fine scene for the
dudes, but it may be staged more for
Tibbs’s benefit than anyone else's. There
is a story that there js a kind of circu
stantial passion between the nephew and
the uncle and that it has something to do
with the violence of the younger man. the
refusal of the
an old hand. The story is that. Johnny is
much like wild, tough
with maybe almost as much talent for rid-
ing bucking horses. ‘The last is specala
tion. Johmny’s old man has a big spread.
has done well. Like Casey's old mun,
Johnny's didnt want his boy on the
rodeo circuit. But Johnny's old man has
made it stick, has at least green broke his
il kid, got him into ranching, a wile,
kids. The old man bought into the rodeo
business, again it is gossiped. as a way to
keep his boy happy. give him some relief
on weekends but keep him more or less in
South Dakota. Johnny Chuck is home
and is becoming a big man in the horse
country, but whether or not he is happy is
another matter, The impression he gives,
4 run, lashing himself
whatever is at hand. attacking
bronc, breaking heads in a bar, is that ol
a man who has a lot of outstanding wants.
a lor to prove. That is the talk among the
тор hands, even the other young studs, all
of whom regard him as something rare,
teat him а little gingerly, like
but unstable e;

him

der one to be. gracefully.

Casey was at 25

wi

always on the de:

and a

porem

plosive device.
arance

such thi
g а horse down in
and whispering, “Do you

me” d
uld also conceivably be a reason sudi
gesture does not soothe the rage. bring
any permanent relief. The scene is not
or the G
a dudes’ camp. s from home, Tibbs
Пу a showbiz, dude wrangler
g stud can be sure that

If the stories, app
a diu
ne reason for y
front of the fire

want to make medicine with

wi

den. hiis

Cheyenne or Cal

Imi

is princip:

now. b

t no you
once when he was cutiing his notch with
nothing but muscle and nerve, ol” Case
wouldn't have, didn't ride а hammer-
headed son of a buck right into the god-
damned fire

In the іше afternoon there is а heavy
pall of yellow dust hanging over Clarence
Lawrences cottonwood corals. In
val there are
Ша

the

outer co
ed horses

river

nner cor
val, there is only а buckskin stallion, whe
has been driven in to be castrated. He is
not a colt but a big. powerful. prime ani
mal, wild and tough from having been
free on the prairie for three or four y
He is making his last stand as a stallion a
good one. He swivels his head, slashes
with his teeth like a snake. rears up.
strikes down with his sledgelike hooves
He has come close to decapitating Justi

Lawrence, one hool glancing off his skull,
coming down on his shoulder, Hatter

ars.

Ei
him. Groggy, but well motivated, Justi
ack to re
les rom

scrambles to the та
hed hat and spec
brothers and

trieve his cru
the dust. H father are
whooping it up outside the corral, inco-
herent with laughter. Justin says sheep-
ishly in the solt, almost Scottish burr that
is oddly common among the Cheyenne
River Sioux, “Geez, 1 almost had a wreck.”
wreck being the horse-country word lor
cident ol any sort.
Justin is slim, stıdious-lool
Dornrimmed gliisses, soltspoke
dont, In real lile he is an agricultu
g for the Sioux trib
en two weeks olf
Johnny and Casey's crew,
of getting out of the office.” Despite ap-
pearances, he is the best horseman and
rodeo hand of all of Clarence Lawrence's
boys, all of whom are good. At the end of
everything, Justin ир beside
Johnny, but he gets there by riding the
waves of action gracefully, casily, like a
surfer; does not have to nor саге to fight
s Johnny does. A very, very

an

spe
but he
to ride with
for the reliel

ends,

his w

cool young stud is Justin Lawrence
Johnny, Justin and their ap-
tices get two ropes on the buckskin
d are hanging on for dear life,
nst the cottonwood rails
by the horse. Tibbs is yin
rope around the stallion
has fal
ir is matted with dust. His round
is dripping, the fancy shirt
the roll around the
g as if motor driven, and
he looks worried. As he says, even in his

Stenson

oll and the grayii

now he is leery of the stall
hooves. He lays out his rope three t
and doesn't come close on any of them.

Johnny can't stand it any longer-
“Čase,” he hisses. “ger your ass out of
here. You don't know what the fuck
you're doing:

Casey backs out gracefully, gratefully,

ocs back to the rail. takes а сап of cold
Deer. chases the dust. A big Sioux rancher
who rode with Casey as a boy says, laugh-
xg. “Айг it hell. Case?

Another Lawrence boy jumps into the
, puts the rope on the stallion and
the men stretch him out. Johnny lunges

are

at his neck, bulldogs him to the ground,
where the horse is trussed up

web of rope. Johnny gets up, takes out
e with which, when nothing else
g he is always playing. scrap-
pants or on a wheistone he
carries. It is an ordinary pocketkuife, but
the blade has been honed down to
sliver, thin and sharp as a razor. Johnny
shifts the small. in his lip, spits out to-
bacco and dust, moves in on the stallion.
cuts quickly. The stallion groans like an
exhausted Johnny
ows the testicles into а ket. A
young boy dumps dirty disinfectant from
othe nto the bloody hole, The
opes ased, the men stand. back
nd ihe n staggers to his feet.
stands swaying, blood flowing down his
hindquarters, making puddles in the
dust. Cutting calves or colis ік routine
ranchwork. but gelding a wild stallion is
wot that common. There is a curious
moment of silence on the rails. Involun
tarily, men squirm, touch their crotches
lor reassurance. Then soi
7Ain't he gonna be surprised,”

man іш his sleep.

bucket

тей
stall

yells.

choy

res a

The last day is the best. The n

colts, the lew in stallions have
been cut out, left on ranches. The rest ol
the herd has to be driven to Timber
Lake, a railhead community om the
northern edge of the reservation, from
which they will be sold and shipped
Some of the dudes have left, Tibbs driv
ing them to the airport in Pierre. The top
hans and the cook are g the camp
pickups, hitting some of the joints.
Gudhing a shower on the way. Left with
the horses аге Johny. Justin. a ranch
or two young Sioux,
some so sn t they have to be helped
wp on their ponies but who, once up.
ride tirelessly. joyously, like the grea
atgrandsons of the world’s best light
cavalrymen.

Je is a lark, a
one.

rem

mno

ad à posse of ve

picnic, a relief for every
Ss has so shrunk, the
d that it is
on practice to move horses by
a it is to

The sea ol

horse business has so chang

more comr

truck and v

wer
run them 30 miles across the prairie.
So there is a sense of being lucky, ol

de something rare amd exciting
Behind that there is à ghost lee
for the kids, of escape. of slipp
a crack in time

The day is right. After the diwn h
ns oll. the sky is mostly blue with
ugh clouds to give some heavenly per
spective: ly breeze to
keep down the heat and flies. The horses
ave right for this sort of thing. The mares
with their unweaned colis and the strong
inded stallions having been left behind
the remaining animals keep moving fast
enough ло avoid tedium but are docile
ло that it is no great chore to keep

g. even

bu

a gentle sun: a st

bunched. Just often. enough. for

177

PLAYBOY

178

interest а little rivulet of horses flows ой
to one side, tries to surge ahead of the lead
ponies and a rider will swerve off, spur
ahead, turn them back. The pace isa slow
lope, a natural horse pace. slowing at the
top of knolls and buttes, picking up on
the downside. Every hour or so а pickup
rattles across the prairie, The herd is

pulled up, held in a milling circle around
the truck while the riders get beer. Then
they move out across the grass, holding
Bud cans hı

Loping mile alte
and across a sea of

gh and steady.

miie—under a sky
ass that gives the illu-
sion of being endless, beneath larks and
. through bluebells
swales and. creeks, always in a rhythmic

haw! and roses,
current of horses—produces a curious,
dreamlike feeling

note the sky and grass, hawks and horses

The senses not only

but begin to diffuse, mingle with them.
The feel of the present, flowing along as
one interacting factor in a harmonious,
ig equation, is very powerful. Tt.

everla

is the kind of situation that can produce
depth or mountain rapture. Nothing
seems so well worth doing, in fact worth
doing at all, as g rhythmically on.
and on across the prairi

At night there is a rodeo for the few
dudes, the neighborhood ranch families,
the Sioux boys who want to try out
Tibbs's bucking horses; for the rodeo-
stock buyer who wants to sce if Tibbs has
any bucking horses; for Tibbs, who hopes
he has. The boys fight the horses until the
sun goes down, being bucked off, thrown
into the rail, stomped on by one, getting
up. getting on another, while friends and
kin cheer for good wrecks, jeer at
who are afraid to wreck. During an inter-
Jude, while the chute is being loaded with
а new batch of bucking horses, Tibbs
rides into the corral on a nice-looking,
mannerly palomino. The palomino was
trucked in from California, has been hap-
pily running with the wild horses without.
being worked. The palomino is, in fact, а

“They're [rom your district, concerning a
campaign promise you made in the final, desperate
hours before your election.”

kind of dude himself, a stable horse with
a sophisticated skill. He has been trained
by Tibbs for movie stuntwork, to collapse
on command as if he has broken his leg or
been shot.

On command the palomino falls, Casey
rolls frec, the horse lies there, plays dead
until given another command. Then he
rises and half bows to the crowd, which
applauds, especially the very young chil
dren, who Iove the performance, which is
LTV or Disney act.

“You can bet that horse is worth some
money,” a rancher tells his son, who is too
young to be wrecking on the bucking
horses but too old for Disney games.

“Is that Casey Tibbs?” asks the boy.

“That's of Case.”

“Ain't he gonn:

horse? /

do anything but ride
't he gonna ride

when he'd га rid any horse
in this corral for saddlework.”

a't so much anymore, is he?

at the hell you expect? I'm telling
you he done it all. That man amounted
to something, which is more than you
likely will.”

The Casey Tibbs Wild Horse Round-
up figuratively ends up in a cavernous
barroom in Timber Lake. The |
owned by a Lawrence boy and on weck-
ends it is social center of
the reservation, The young studs, the top
hands head for the Lucky Seven, loaded
for bear, whoop it up, find some relief
Casey makes a few phone calls to Los
Angeles, asking about some deals that he
has going. He sits back in the corner of
the har, content with a long. tall, slow,
cold drink, to let the others take care of
the hell

“IE you could do it again, would you do
it different now? Like jump another way,

x 3

nore or less th

p riding, end up around

"Something like that."

“1 think about it once in a while. My
brothers went that road. When 1 was
loaded, living it up, driving around in big
cars. they stayed here, worked their asses
off. Now they got more money than 1
have, they got some land, they arc harder,
maybe they are happier than I am. Hell,
a good rainstorm keeps these people en-
tertained for a week. I keep thinking that
if things work right, maybe ГІ get a place
back here, get out of that goddamned
Hollywood. But I'm bullshittin" mysell. I
couldn't take the work. I can't even take
the winters, my blood has thinned. It
looks awful good when I come back, but
I'm another tourist. I couldn't hack this
kind of life anymore. I've seen too many

bright lights."

МЕСІ ЕЄПЕЮ €ENIUS (continued from page 150)

a quarter of a century
rushed to Hollywood to negot
for his first sound film.

The Physicist, as Einsicin presented
the project to Louis B. Mayer, was to be a
high-budget musical extravaganza bri

Uing with big names and dazzling special

effects The cast that Einstein brought
together consisted of such disparate tal-
ents as Sessue Hayakawa, Zasu Pitts, the

I Rin Tin Tin and. incredibly,
Dr. Sigmund Freud, the psychoanalyst,
with whom Einstein was in correspond-
ence on other matters.

amt imagine what he thought he
jer complained. finally
fell
idiot

was doin,

must never be allowed 10 m
film in Hollywood!” Einstein's rema
supporters blamed. the camerawork and

editing of the film, both of which had
been taken from his control (in violation

of his con nd put into the hands of
the МСМ studio hacks, The project was
a bitter failure for all concerned. though
MGM was able to recoup some of its
loses by j
footage and releasing it during the hys-
teria of World War Two as Yellow Dogs,
Dict, the ma le of a
psychotic J and the
American woman he betrays.

Although Einstein felt. with much.
reason, that the blame for the talkie fi-
asco should have fallen to the Florentine
structure. he never

Hollywood politi
fully recovered [rom the failure of The
Physicist. As late as 1953, when, at a
Princeton dinner honoring him as the
Father of Ato ergy, he was asked if
he fel in any way personally respon-
sible lor the bomb, the
compelled to joke, ^
the cai
Indecd, Einstei
vo readjust to the world of high science
after his ouster from Hollywood. Physi-
ist J. Robert Oppenheimer writes of
insicin's arrival in 1933 at the Institute
for Advanced Study at Princeton: “He
pulled up in a silver, chaufleur-driven
Stutz (California license ріне ЕМС?)
nd stepped out dolled up
hba
iculous, ar

work."

n was never able fully

1 smoked.

nd a
ig crop. 1 the
usembled scientists ribbed the hell out
ol him. I'm afraid we were rather cruel.”

all his bravura, Einstein proved
10 be a deleted man, destined to live
out his lile in exile from what he often
called his “uue career." At Princeton һе
retreated into [antasy, actually becoming,
the character he had created years before
оп the screen. It is to this development
that Chirk
physicist’s being

k suit

tudes when he writes of the
aaor playing
Einstein than the man himself."

"It is very sad," wrote Oppenheimer.
“He pretends to read the journals on the
unified field theory and we find copies of
Variety hidden in them, Often.
night, 1 have seen the light burning in
his study and. upon investigating. have
found Dr. Einstein hard at work on a new
lap step or piece of comic business that
we all know will never be filmed. My
heart goes out to this man.”

It was Einstein's dre: ke films
‚ but he remained on Hollywood's
st to the end of his lile. (There is
irfeiched
stories as the familiar rumor that he
was secretly developing а 4-D process at
Princeton, or that be was found once ai
lessly wandering around the Fox lot in a
crewcut and three-button suit, trying to
get a job as an extra under the name
Allen Easton.) Even after his death, the
persecution of Einstein continued wl
the Government effectively banned his
films for their “pink” tendencies during
the McCarthy era after Sput-
nik, when educational authorities cor
vinced the Administration that the image
of the world’s foremost scientist as a prat-
falling bulfoon would confuse the tender
youth of the nation and deter them from
the headlong pursuit of technical knowl-
edge that Washington deemed necessary.

Clearly, the time is long overdue for

black
no evidence to support such

n

nd,

the public screening of the Einstein films.
Even though much of what he did on the
screen is "low" by modern standards—
the glitzy, frenetic hotrhythm dancing.
the cheap fag jokes. the endless dums
use of Pogo sticks, rickshas, stilts and
roller skates—he nonetheless, better than
any film maker to date, was able to cluci

te the tragic clash between the sweet
theories of the academic ivory tower and
the hard realities of the social world.

In an cra in which we are reaping the
of a technology run ramp-
which a scientific answer to every
problem seems only to increase our

isery, we need the cool overview of
and his skepticism of the pure
scientist, whom he knew from bitter pe
sonal experience often to be deserving
of the most scar

Е

"xs
ally, we need
example of the depth and complexity of
the human soul, the scientist who hun-
gered for expression in а way that no
formula, no abstract theory, however
brilliant. could ever fully satisly. We need
the Albert Einstein who wrote to Frank-
lin Roosevelt in 19%

insteiu as a shining

As a scientist. Frank, the best that

I can ever do is to unders
will of God. But when 1 shimmy
ivious hootchy-
t.

and sweat shi

“I'm the king and we'll do it when I say we'll do it!”

178

180

ALFRED EISENST AEDT

JASON MILLER having a big season

. THE NEW YORK drama critics gave their annual award
to Jason Miller's That Championship Season, an imense work
that centers on the tragicomic reunion of a high school bas-
ketball championship team and its coach. ‘Thinking back on a
short but very successful career, Miller, 33. remembers
lot of oneacts and another play, Nobody Hears a Broken
Drum. It was about Irish miners and was set in the 18th Cen-
tury ... or the 19th some fuckin' century. Anyway. it
t you'd call a longrunning play. It closed afte

nd a half hours." Such unpretentious comments
cteristic of Miller. He dismisses his sensitive ren-
агастег in Season, with: “At first, I had
ng suicide, but that was bullshit, too melodra-
matic. So he's just a drunk; that's enough." Which is not to
say that Miller's creative ego isn't touchy about his work
When tor reading for a part in the play tossed th
manuscript aside and spoke his lines from memory, Mille
told him afterward, “You auditioned very well, but the way
you threw the manuscript down, | wasn't sure you had
enough respect for the mat Miller was graduated from
the University of Scranton in 1961 and "after I kicked around
the provinces for a while, I moved 10 New York to pay my
ducs.” (That was about six years wile
have stayed there ever since.) Miller not only writes but acts
(he's the lead in the upcoming film The Exorcist) and also
wants to direct as well. Currently writing the screenplay for
Season—which Playboy Productions will film—Miller feels no
pressure to finish another drama hastily. "Too many play-
wrights fall victim to the "Where's the second play?’ syndrome
and end up pulling some lousy, discarded manuscript out of
a drawer or writing an inferior work. I'm not going to let
that happen. My next play is going to rise up and flow,
easily and naturally.” We suspect it will be worth the wait.

go and he and hi

HERBERT STERN //с potato with a million eyes

HE DOESN'T TELL anyone but dose friends and associates where
he lives; he can’t айога to. As United States Attorney for the
New Jersey District, Herbert Stern's task is to prosecute cor-
rupt public officials. For more than half a century, he says, the
Garden State has had “the most notor aft in the U. S,
extracting ten percent from anyone who sought to do bi
here.” By the late Sixties, says Stern, "the feeling was that every-
thing in City Hall had a price on it. The council of Jersey City
had a secret bank account with 51.231.000 in it and John V.
Kemy [a prominent state Democratic Party leader) had
three corporations do ing but keeping safe-deposit
boxes." Accord ge over this situation was onc
cause of the riots that nearly leveled Newark. Cold and method-
ical, Stern normally works ten hours a day. going 16 or 18 whe
there's a case in court, often questioning all the witnesses him
sell. Even his pl 5 seem serious, studied: A longtime friend
of his describes Stern swimming relentlessly for two miles, ap-
parently unaffected by the exertion. Powered by this kind of
implacable drive, Stern has won convictions of so many city,
county and state oficials that it would Бе difficult to list them
all. A few are: Paul Sherwin and Robert Burkhardt, both secre
taries of state: C. E. Gallagher, U.S. Congressman; and the
mayors of Morristown, Newark and two each. fom Айат
City, Jersey City and Gloucester. Son of a New York attorney,
Stern began his career as a prosecutor shortly after ¢
y of Chicago. as an assistant to Manhatta
ble D. A., Frank Hogan. Now. the of 36, his battles
are just beginning, There are cases in court, others awaiting
trial and new indictments being prepared. The amount of
paper he's shuffled would reach to Tierra del Fuego. But
with all his energy and determination, Stern seems to get no
charge out of putting away some of the most venal politicians
in the conni Fm just doing my job,” he says. Indeed,

us

iness

g notl

to Stern, оши:

DAVID BOWIE future rock

WHEN әлі» комак made his Carnegie Hall debut las tall,
everybody from Albert Goldman to Andy Warhol was there
—plus a gaggle of w soni of British
Alice Cooper. That's not what they got. The concert opened
as Bowie, in clockwork-orange hair, came onstage amid flash
ing strobe lights, to the Moog; ns of Beethoven's
Ninth. From there, except lor ted sex act with
silver-haired guitars. Mick Ronson, it was a matter ol
sic, ranging from the hard rock laid down by Bowie's
and, the Spiders from Mars, to a Jacques Brel song with
guitar accompaniment. Music—and Bowie's poetic messages.
some plaintively personal, others awesomely apocalyptic:
music, messages and movement, for Bowie, who spent two and
a һай years with a mime troupe. is a thoroughly skilled per-
former who can turn a song into high drama with body
language. or simply by contorting his futuristically made-up
face, A dropout commercial artist who was born тз ago
London suburb and kuer changed his name fr
not to be confused with a certain Monkee, Bow
al offstage, too. Though he's got a wife, Angels
son whom he calls Zowie. his sesuality is admittedly cl
able: he started dyeing his hair and
dresses in his teens. Besides m
phone and. Tibetan. Buddhism. His idols indude Edith Piaf,
Marceau and. Judy Garland, His fears? Well, planes

tes by boat and toured by bus.

Bowie also has a fantasy about bec g a rock marty “One
day a big artist is going to get killed опы ul 1 keep
thinking irs bound to be me.” Otherwise, he's optimistic about
what's around the bend, provided people "f: a fu
ture controlled by the pill. by sperm banks and by all kinds of
things that have never been dreamed of before.” Bowie's own
future seems assured—even after the shock waves fade aw

he’s studied the saxo-

MICK ROCK

SOHN R. OLSON

181

PLAYBOY

182

А
BU DO аана

him harshly in the pidgin Vietnamese of
GIs. Di di man. Get out. The roomboy
scuttled away, not looking at any of us.

Tien and a friend had walked two
miles from their village to the district
ток to report for duty. After four

months of basic training in Hoa Binh
Provinec—the words mean peace in

Victnamese—the young soldiers were
restless 10 start their war, nervous that
it would be over 100 soo

days for battalion 1071 to
cross the Annamite mountain to
reach the border of Laos. They passed
e trunks on which thousands of men
before them had stopped tw carve their
names, their villages and the dates of

g south. Even battalion and com-
пу commanders had carved iheir
cs. Ti nd the sight of those
id made him feel less

п said.

trees w ed him

varni

alone. T tried to smile to shaw him, yes,
1 could understand that.

Tt was six au. when they finally
reached the fron The soldiers

crossed а rope bridge over а ravine. Go
quickly, quickly, they were told, for the
Americans often strafed and bombed

here. Do not look back.

But Tien did look back. he had to,
and all he could see of his Vietnam was
blurred. mountain range in the mist. He
was told to move faster.

lt surprised. Tien. Ho Chi

Minh

Trail did not sta a wide road.
п as just а small lane winding
gh a bamboo fores in Laos. He
nly two personal possessions: a
nd a walking stick made of North

stick was precious to me,” Tien
We all had one. It eased my ex-
when 1 was walking and it
helped me keep my balance. You could
use it to measure the depth of a spring
we had to cross. If you wanted to rest.
vou propped the stick up under your
pack so it made the weight lighter. We
alled й our “third leg. There was even
а song. 1 sang these lines many times.”
And he did once more. in a high,
ill voice.

ET

“H rains the legs Jar the lan

rithout letting them get aw

Il trains the spirit to go Jora
never backward...”

Wh
when we could he;

march
»
rd only,

1 Tien wa

tired of talking, and
r no more

him my Phillips casene player and we
listened 10 County Joe & the Fish.

1 showed

Come on all of you big strong теп
Uncle Sam needs your hel p again
He's got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam.

No put down your books, pick up a
gun

We're gonna have a whole lot of
fun."

1 had a friend. а reporter named Sier-
ba. who said that song was always run-
ning through his head in all the months
he covered the war. But it is not a
n 102 North Vietnam-
1 liked the cassette
player. though. He found ita

On the tenth day his company was

moving down the trail, the В 595 came
Other soldiers, stationed by the wail. had
described them to the men.
“One man told me, "You will never
r the h of the B-52s, for sud-
denly there will be med-of
noises around you but still you never see
the planes and if you are in the middle
of where the bomb Lands. you will dic,
and if vou are close then you will be
deaf for the rest of your life; " Tien
told us. "But this man also told me th
the mountains and forests were so wide it
d for B-52 to hit men,”

Tien’s company survived three raids.
He wished they could go into combat.
Once, they passed a group of wounded
Southerners—soldiers іп the National
Liberation Front—who teased them.

"Some of them told us, ‘Go fast or the
liberation will be finished before you get
there,” and this worried us very much.
One man told me thar it was easy to fight
the Americans, "They have very weak
eyes! he sa is sunny they can
see well.

Tien never did find out if the Am
cans were made helpless by the sun. He
never fired ап АКАТ. His malarial
h lasted two ло three hours,
so intense that two men were as
ned to hold him up as the company
kept moving. When they entered South
Vietnam. the sickest were separated and
left behind.

In Saigon. lor the first time in his
life, he owned a wrist watch. and а pen
He wor Tien really
ry and his
to talk with sol.

arvel,

was very h;

not

tacks, w
wer

white shires. What

wamed was to have his di
walking stick again
diers Hong and Ngoan, who had been
with him on the trail

Once he said wistfully he would lik
to find out where his unit was and rejoin
1. But he knew it was not possible, he
knew it very well, His relatives sent him
to be an apprentice in a Honda r
shop. but he stayed listless
mun of longing and few words,

There were times when, pretendi
that friendships were posible. 1 thought
ol invit nese to my
just to ask them what w
and how deep was their pain but to try
10 have a пісе time together. They

"pair

room, not
thei

losses

would not have come. There was a
painter named Ha Сат Tam, who
taught drawing to children in five ele-

schools for a

сагу monthly salary

worth about. S40. He made money by
selling paintings 10 Americans. One of
them showed three gaunt, tormented

mese posing like the three monkeys
see no evil, hear no evil, speak no
He called the painting Nothing

evil.
About Anything

“Perhaps Americans buy my paintings
because they ате troubled," Tam said.
r only between Viet
s it should be, it would be dif

ferent. We would not feel guilty, as you
do, for both sides have their cause
The Vietnamese: people must be

dumb and blind to what goes on

around them m added. “It is re-
quired of us;

But sometimes they refused to be
could sta no longer. When ihe
United States Air Force handed over its

helicopter base in Soe Trang to the
South Vietnamese air force. Amer
removed the pews, altar and altar
from the chapel. They left. behind
Muorescentlit cross and piles of litter
induding a handbook on survival and
a sign that read: TMNK THINK THINK,
Angry Vietnamese soldiers painted
sign of their own: U. s. ARMY—DON'T TAKE

GOD AWAY

Sometimes in room 53 the telephone
ag very lare at night or before daw
With a message from the Times's foreign
desk in New York. I would be read. with
patience and valor, by a Vietnamese
named. Mr. Lee, who worked at the Кец.
тегу office and did not speak English. Ii
was Mr. Lee who called on a summer
morning to read a cable that said my fa-
ther had died. His accent was so distract
ing that 1 had to have him read it three
s 1 went back ro sleep in reljef.
sas mo problem with a story, no

inserts, no new facts needed. It was only
another death, and not an uni
not a Viernamese ending

And as I moved from interview to in
terview, questioning the victims and
those they made victims, always asking,
“How much does it hun?" or "How
great is your fear?" the men who made
up the fat and lumpy perimeter around
ls lives. h
was as though they could not see ih
ves and were never told ol the d
There was Richard Funkhous:
mple, who tried to organize a 1971
decathlon in Chinese chess and. wine
tasting to make Үй
cheerlul combat sone.
1970: 6065. U.

The latuity of Funkhouser was concen
trated in a memor wrote on
December 2, 1970. The subject: “Esprit
de CORDS.” lt was a pun on the name of
the agency. Civil Operations and Rural
Development Support, which directed a
network of pacification programs. One
of them was called Brighter Life for
War Vic Few Americans who
worked lor CORDS took it well it you
told them а brighter life for war victims
meant. ending the wa

the war went on with their d

dead in
13.)

(U. S.
wounded: 304

h was тат kind

© 1973-8 1, REYNOLDS TOBACCO CO.

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doesn’t havea hot, harsh or scratchy taste, that’s a good reason to be
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That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health. av per cigarette, FIG Report Fh 3 9 9

183

PLAYBOY

of comment that n
with reporters.

Funkhouser, whose greater glory had
been in Gabon, where he was U.S. am-
bassador, headed CORDS in the third

i egion (Vietnam had four). 1
memorandum on the wall of
ick-smelling bathroom of room
as where it belonged
been suggested that there
ld be more interplay between the
CORDS headquarters іп the four
regions,” he wrote.

“It sounds like a great idea to us,” he
burbled, “and therefore we challenge rep-
resentatives of other military regions to
а 1971 decathlon comprising, for exam-
idge, tennis, gin rummy, volleyball
sports, Chinese chess, winet
ing. close harmony. etc.”

Nautical sports. Close harmony.

Each of the teams would be made up
of six men and two women, with “one
ringer of general rank" and one Viet-
mese expert.
h ds alw
Bienhoa for competitors,

de them uneasy

ys open house here a
” Funkhouser
y of

so ma

Tar Ше secat vend nano diua
longer comfort or calm me. In no other

so ugly or [eel so finished. Jt was a malis
nant City, Saigon, and you could never
quite sort out the horrors fast ene
There was only a street to cross
few hundred yards to walk betwee
New York Times осе ou Tu-D
Continental, but even that little strip
provided surprises after curfew, when you
ight have thought it would һе cali
Alvin Shuster, the bureau chief, and I
were walking to the hotel one night
when we saw a big American, in civil
ian dothes, arguing with a Viemamese
woman and looking through her hand-
bag as she pleaded w
saw her on the terrace ol the Continental.
She was a hooker, am old one, with a
PX wig, and D hoped that Dennis had
done better. The American was being
very rough
Don't get involved," Alvin said. I
told the man to stop it, leave her alone,
because—the words came out wrong—
that was по way to treat a lady. His an
swer was very odd. It upset Alvin and me.
“That's no lady," the American said
“It’s a man. He added that he had
been robbed. Perhaps she was. Some-
times I would see her on the terr:
she would always smile and nod
aher that night —and worry that а young
a like Dennis might not understand
and take her for just another whore, and
ruin his life. Stop worrying, Alvin said
don't get involved, She tells them.
There was а nice garden at the Cor
nental with round wooden tables under
big umbrellas where you could have
wb remember Graham

ma

VIETNAM: A PRELIMINARY TALLY

early returns on the recent american adventure overseas

IHE FOLLOWING FIGURES INDICATE, AS accu
tnamese killed or wounded as a result of the w

ely as possible, the numb
in Vietnam:

U.S. military personnel killed ................ Ed
U.S. military personnel wounded ..... esee 303.640
Americans killed as the result of noncomh 5 OS
South Vietnamese milit; personnel killed ....... ^ калана, SOS OO
South Vietnamese military personnel wounded ............. .. 450.000

h Vietnamese civilians killed ................. Š 115,000

E
.000
000.

South Vietnamese civilians wounded .
stimated North Vietnamese and Viet Cong sol
Estimated North Vietnamese civilians

iers killed ......

According to NBC news sources, the United Stes dropped more than 14
billion pounds of bombs on North and South Viemam. The years of bombing
turned some of both countries into what has been widely described as a
' It is estimated that in South Vietnam, a ge phical а
corgia. there are now 24,500,000 craters

“mot

SCA pe. about

the size of

America’s Food for Peace program, a plan to feed hungry Vietnamese, was
ill-conceived, poorly administered and finally abandoned in 1972. The mass
shipment of bulgur (parched wheat) provided just one example of the program's
mismanagement, Bulgur was sent because а Food for Peace othcial soned that
Indonesians like it—so Vietnamese would, too. But the Vietnamese refused to
cat bulgur and instead fed it to livestock. Columnist Jack Anderson has stated
that the Food for Peace program cost $18.000.000 per year.

"Throughout the war, Americm propaganda leaflets were dropped. on
Viermam іп such quantities that eventually they were found Пішетінд the
floors of triple-canopy jungles. U. S. Army catalogs describe propaganda leallets
as "one of the most persuasive mediums ol psychological operations.
ese used them to wrap food, patch holes in hut walls and as toilet paper. The
w York Times calculates t the number dropped өп Vietnam exceeded
illion leaflets.

The United States sprayed chemicals on Vietn
te enemy ground cover. At the end of the war,
ted territory totaled 6.100.000 acres.

mese trees and crops to
BC News es ted

elimi

that the defol

n of Budweiser
50.000 gallons.

Anheuser-Busch, Inc. records indicate that the consumpt
tam during the last five ye led A7.

of the war toi

beer in М

The Montagnards. a primitive tribal culture,
Vietnam highlands for hundreds of years. As the w
from their lands, their hunting grounds were overrun with View:
and their culture was destroyed. One longtime observer of the wa
lvisor Gerald C. Hickey, says the percentage of uprooted Montagn
at least 85 percent

1 lived undisturbed in the
т expanded, they w i

he South Vietnamese have done little to commemorate the United States
military presence in their country. A statue of a soldier that the 25th Infantry
Division raised in its own honor in Cu Chi first had its head blown olf, later dis
appeared altogether. In late March of this y last U.S. military units
left the country, President Nguyen Van Thicu laid a cornerstone for three
memorials in Saigon commemorating allied participation in the war. Опе is
dedicated to the Vietnamese people, one to the other non-U.
а giant steel areh—to the United States effort. Ame payers are footing
the entire $1,000,000 bill for the triple memori

Mies and опе

Final expense figures in South ntagon officials show that
the war (excluding veterans. benefits and other miscellaneous items) cost the
United States at least 125 billion dollars.

At least L8 billion dol ol that

пошти was spent on the physical con
struction of U.S. military and paramilitary facilities im South Vietnam
Through our years of involvement, we upgraded and maintained some 2300
les of roads muy, be jor support and logistics com-
plexes, gouged out six deep-water ports and created ci, ple

which included 15 runways of 10.000 feet or more. The vast, now nearly dese
base /airfield | port facility at Gam Ranh Bay cost more than $133,000.00.

ihe с four m

base:

ht jeccap:

American medical aid to Vietnam has been insufficient since the first fi
From a peak of $25,000,000 in 19065. it tell consistently through the end of
al it should have

risen to шесі

according to medical oilicers in Viennam
а casualty rates, New York Times correspondent
Sydney Schanbery S. was sending one billion dollars 10
er the North Vietnamese offensive at the end of the war the amount of
was less than one percent.

time whi

While United States medical aid and maining was wocfully lacking, we

South Vier

am

South Vietnam's city streets are dogged with Hondas. Suzukis
bretas as a result of the U. S. Government's commodity-import_ pre
"сай device that served several purposes: It soaked up the money the
king from the Americans, and so held dow it
created а few Vietnamese millionaires: and it promoted the transformation of
the South Vietnamese society from а rural one to a city-based. consumption
oriented one. In 1971, one Saigon businessman was selling Hondas at the rate
of 7000 per month

econo:
Vietnamese were ni

The Sune Department keeps no figures on the number of illegitimate chil-
dren fathered by America Servicemen in Vietnam, saying there is no accurate
way to get such information. Private estimates vary widely, with one expert,
The Û The Children of Victnam, aiming there arc pres
ently 75.000 to 100.000 of these children. Taking the most conservative
ulative figures. there are presently in Vietnam 15,000 to 100.000 half- Ay
illegitimate childr

nd spec-

erican

Including these Americm-sired children, the total numbe
» South Vietnam, according
5,000 children.

of war orphans
committee on

ward. Kennedys Su

inedy's subcoi

ator Ке
ing that there are 103.000 South Vietnamese war widows.

As part ol the same report, Se mittee issued figi

The peak w ough 1072, | 10.000 refugees i
th Vietnam (more than one of every three nis). according 10 the
ted States Agency lor International Development (USAID). However, even
that karge number may he too low. because USAID has reported no new relugees
since January 1. 1973. Senator. Kennedys Subcommittee өп Refugees, on the
other hand, says that since the peace signing there aret least 215,000 new South
Vietnamese relugecs.

ro years, 1061 th.

At the end of April 1972, when only 70.000 Gls remained in Vietnam, con
struction of a new indoor theater at the Long Binh Army base was completed
Construction had begun only four months earlier, in the midst of heavy troop
withdrawals, and the Facility almost immediately became useless. since inexpe-
rienced South Viemamese were incapable of maintaining it. Ar ures for the

ow that the ПОША.
4000.

but we kıı
d 5415

onal ne Binh filie

Many Americans are staying іп Үй
says onc Western official,
proceeding as il the Vietnamese ares
there are. because military spokesmen hel
e these things known.” But The New Yor
believes that, alter all the troops have gone. t
1000 employees of the United States Agency lor International Development;
several hundred mil y attachés; 10,000 civilian advisors and technicians.

m. “Irs like 1961 or 1965 all over
“The Americans are іші of optimism again and

wd." Ir is hard to say how
ieve, "lis just not i

t eve

the national

Greene and his Rue Carinat. But no
nice corner of Saigon could ever keep its
carly promise, so the war came into the
little garden as it had come to all places
It was there that I wied to save Mad-
ame Ngo Ва Thanh from be
ed, but they took her away.
She was tiny and silly. brave and bril
liant. 1 could never quote her in a story
for she rushed so, in any of four kur
guages, that no se
А lawyer, she had studied at the Universi-
ty of Paris and in Barcele
ters degree in comparative law was from
Columbia University. Madame Thanh
knew all about prisons: She had spent 25
months in them dur 107.
There was nothing leh to be afraid
of, she would say. But there was: prise
in and for Be careful. 1
ald say r demonstrate
ne and time again against the govern
ment of Nguyen Van Thieu and run
from the police on Tu-Do іп her
h heels.
So L who stood 11 inches taller than
she. could not save her at all. There had
been a demonstration:

Her mas-

w

а bitter. mocking

one—in. front of the Na

ral Assembly
by a handlul of deputies opposed to the
onenian presidential election in October
1971. The only candidate was President
Thieu seeking re-election. The police
de in Harris:

used canisters of tear gas, m

burg. Pennsylvania, as the proteste
stood grouped on the steps, holdi

their annes in Vietnamese. Mada

Thanh was there, of course. She was
always everywhere.

Toran behind her when the police
charged and we ran imo the баце gar-

den. There were two American othcers
iuing aca table and 1 said quick, quick
them and the pol ot in
terere, What is shaming. you see. is that 1
still believed that American officers would
protect her. This, after all 1 had learned
and seen and been told

Sit down, sit down, | hissed at he
schoolgirl French, One of the meni
colonel spoke to us in beautiful, seri
ous French. oflering то share his café au
lait if the waiter did not soon appear
The other man. his brother, said he was
a pilot on a Cobr ased at Tuy
Ho: Madame ho knew as
well as D did wh 1
do to а village and its people
this inl ion calmly. Neither ollicer
seemed to sense that something unusual
had just taken place. Both of us had
been crying from the tear gas. Her hair
was disheveled. My nose was running.
She was breathing in hoarse little gulps.
Tt was her asthi

© can

t Cobra

ships
received

lant and е
sect. those two. as though they had once
learned a good deal of poetry, and taken
sea voyages. and knew more about lile
than the Army wishes a man ever to
know. Fhen the pilot began to speak of
the war, why we had not won it and

The officers se

185

PLAYBOY

186

how he would bc the last man to leave,
because he wanted it won.

She chewed a piece of croissant and
kept looking at the entrance. The depu-
ties who had been in the demonstration
rushed in, so she rose to join them.
It was no longer possible to stay wh
she was. Now, at a much later time, I
remember her rising and thanking the
colonel, who bowed slightly and siid in
French:

"Perhaps we shall meet in times th
are les turbulent. madame.

The ре me and the officers тозе
and left. I joined the deputies and Mad.
ame Thanh at their ible while
liceman stood in front of us. wikin
pictures on an Ame
he used as evidence
The Vie
away their faces. looking, solemnly
America
longer
might be.

The deputies had diplomatic immu-
nity and Madame ‘Thanh did not. I tried
10 hold on to her when the police sur-
rounded her.

Bur they won, tugging and pushing
d circling ber. We were told that ihe
police threw her into the back of a ісер.

е, not turning
the

machine, as though they no

ed what th

г punishment

It is much more than a year now since
she was sent to prison and there is noth-
ing I can do. I saw a picture of her once
—long after I had left Saigon. She was
in court, lying on a stretcher and looking,
suddenly, quite old and helpless.

There is one mo ng to tell: It is
about the children. Living in that huge,
solemn room, where there were sheets
nd hot water at times, I often thought
I could easily sh with a child. There
were so many of them, working the
streets, living in the markets, so small and
so ғай that rhe Vietnamese called them
the іші doi. or dust of lile. It seemed in-
human to refuse them help. Sometimes
1 would invite them into the office,
where they could use the shower and, if
we were lucky, there were new clothes
they could wear. The mothers of friends
idles of them to me.

sent

I met her in a
prison compound in Danang, where the
Vietnamese police chief let me interview
two children so 1 could see how the Viet
Cong recruited the very young and es
posed them to risks. She had been ar-
rested ger for the Viet Cong:
there wa her pocket. She had

been in the detention center for children
for five months.

“I have no father, My mother lived in
Saigon," the child said. The interpreter
could barely hear her.

"My mother gave me to Mrs. Xuan
when I was very small. When Unde
Xuan died, I lived with Uncle С
When Uncle Chi died, I lived w
Unde Hien.”

She had said it so many times before
to her interrogators. Dang Von Song,
head of the Special Police Bi
the “undes"—a respectful ter

mese—w
cadre, in Quang N

Pham Thi Hoa looked
spoke. She could not keep he
‘They quivered and moved
urgent w:

"Only Uncle Hien loves
r docs not love me. She ac
Xuan. Unde Hien me
r I wanted to go to school and 1
and he said: "You decide. If you
will send you to school. If you
ay here with me.’ Unde Hien
and the other uncles loved me. I lived
a bunker under
cle Hien and Unde Vinh. There w
only one girl of my age living nc
That was Thoai, but she and her mother
went to Danang and her mother let her
work as a ser .

"In the evening Uncle Hien hung up
a hammock for me to sleep in."

It tired her to tell us this and her Ii
de hands did not stop their twitching.
While the police were «
she whispered to my interpreter that she
had been beaten in the interrogation
center. There was no time to ask her
questions, for they came back.

Dang Von Song complained that Pham
Hoa had not been at all cooperative
"This girl is very stubborn. Very, But
we have fot ik point. She is
very afraid of having her hair cut off.
Mr. Song said. "So we say we will cut
her hair if she is not more helpful."

The little girl showed that she feared
this very much. She drew back as I tried
to comfort her.

Another police official shook his head.

“1 have offered to adopt her and take

ch, said

no one as she
hands still.
in strange,

5. Mr. Song smiled as she spoke
me.

My

bamboo bush with
s

t of the room

her hi with me," he said. He repeated
the offer. sm Pham Thi Hoa
“I prefer to be in prison,” she said. "

like to be in prison." She was taken away.
Perhaps because I looked queer or be-
cause my eyes were not dry, Mr. Song
gave me some advice.
Now, don't write an antiwar story,

There are other stories I could tell,

about the living and the dead. much
more than I have told here, but so very
much already been written, and

none of it ever made any difference at all.

nmark. It has various n:
is beefsteak tari

BEEPSTEAR TARTARE

way to prepare beef-
e is to use a slice of top
ıd scrape it with a silver
I have found, however, that put-
» the home grind
g your butcher grind it no more 0
an hour before it is to be served is all right.
И mechanically chopped. it must be
round twice, It must be fine and soft,
n, top round steak isa must.
3 Ibs. top round steak. по fat. rimmed
of sinews and gristle, ground twice
small egg yolks

spoon
ung it throi

cups minced white onion

tablespoons drained capers

anchovy fillets, drained, dried
on paper towel. finely chopped

5 tablespoons flatteat parsley, finely

PIE

$

chopped

5 tablespoons cold black caviar (op-
tional)

2 tablespoons papri

2 tablespoons caraway seed

3 tablespoons salt

3 tablespoons black pepper

2 loaves party rye bread (small, thin

slices, buttered)

СӨР»? DS
ЧАЛ (continued [rom page 115)

Form ground round steak іп cight
thick, circular patties, with a depression
in the center deep enough to hold an
yolk. Place on a large platter, center
th garnishes. Paprika, caraway seed,
salt, pepper can be placed in small glass
containers with spoons and spaced on
the platter or beside it. A Large spoon
and fork for mixing are placed beside
ig planer: also, you'll need
wal plates (plasticized paper to be dis-
rded or your best china), the quality
depending upon your choice and whether
. llagstoned patio or а

divid-

The host approaches the platter, mixes
an egg yolk well imo a round of beef,
lifts it omo his plate, spoons in onion,
capers, a bit of anchovy, ра
This is mixed well. Now papril
seed, salt and pepper sparingly
sprinkled in and blended thoroughly.
The beef is thickly spread upon a thin
round of the bread. Guests, cocktails in
hand, are urged to emulate.

The no-cooki

g spread can be a

tively displayed on separate tables or o

co

y г the whole eyeapp
business on a convertible table you lug

along or on a tabledoth on the green-
sward.

After cocktails with raw beef, the clas-
sic progression is to the fish course.

TUNA WITH ITALIAN CANNELLINI BEANS

4 T-or. cans tuna, fancy, light, Italian
style, packed in olive oil preferably;
drained well, lightly sprinkled with
lemon juice, refrigerated ший
chilled

1-1b., 1-07. cans cannelli
olive oil

beans

-leaf parsley, chopped
freshly milled black

[n

plespoons
pepper
teaspoons salt
doves garlic. peeled, mashed (ге-
move alter taking beans from re-
frigerator)

a beans well: place in large bowl,
е oil. lemon juice, parsley. pep
It, garlic. Toss well with two
poons. but gently. so that you
k the beans. Refrigerate until

an

Di
add ol
per.
wooden s
do not bi
chilled.

ICELAND BROOK TROUT
WITH MUSTARD SAUCE
This is superb fish, packed only by
Ora of Iceland, Pink-fleshed
1 suspect that it is arctic cl
several ti

nd delicate,
that Т

have savored

You don't have to sacrifice sensitivity and feeling to

be certain. Ultra-thin, ultra-sensitive ‘Trojans

let you be safe without “feeling
safe.” They protect you and your loved ones from
the fear of unwanted conception and they aid in

the prevention of V.D. Be certain, buy Trojans
premium products from your pharmacist's di:
He's made them the Number 1 Selling Brand in
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Then buy your future needs from your pharmacist.

brand prophylacti

play.

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ing to National Survey Organization.
(includes Trojan-Enz Lubricated, Guardian, Naturalamb brands)

Naturalamb

187

PLAYBOY

188

josh, Emery . .
to-goodnes

tinned trout. iry one of the brands
of American smoked rainbow.

2 10-02, cans Iceland brook trout, 4

baby trout per can, drained, left

whole. refrigerated until chilled
6 tablespoons quality n i
3 tablespoons Dija

8 slices leni

5 eaves Boston lettuce

Blend mayonnaise very well with mus.
tard. Relrigerare until set and chilled.

Arrange one baby trout. a dollop of
mustard sauce and а slice of lemon on
each leaf of well-washed, crisp lettuce,
fresh from the refrigerator.

Ring a large platter with the trout on
lettuce: center й with а mound of can
nellini beans and oue of Maky. cold tuna.

Plates d forks should be
lant: sell service without searching
ils is the ge lea
h finished, everything else
lor grabs
ow is the time to begin pouring wine.
jolais. a jolly. small wine. is the
ional picnic or cookout drink. T
should be served young, a year old is
. never more than two rs. Tt is
ly French тей wine dlassically
led. Relrige for an hour
Of course, champagne will
do very nicely lor any and all occasions

You'll find that bread is not the ма
to lean on that it used to be. Many cal
orie counters shun it: but for those who
couldn't care les or who cut count,
you might have a variety of sliced breads

knives

across

up

c

served ch

c
belove serv

B Ag

. it's not often that one meets ап honest-
cannibal in the suburbs.”

them
d s

wercsing: mix
nd hearty. but
ghy horrors.

none of the soft, de

COLD CHICKEN IN SAUCES
MÉRIDIONALE AND CIRCASSIAN

The variety of quality fowl that roost
in cans these days is surprising. If your
budget will permit. try pheasant, chukar
partridge or guinea hen. 1f it will not,
don't downgrade chicken. It remains the
most versatile of our foods. Chickens аге

cooked in the can in their natu ices.
Their taste is good. not grem, a Бае
bland. The trick is to jazz up the taste

imd still keep the flavor of the bird.
Sauces solve rhis. 1 do it with two. One,
courtesy of my friend the
great French chef Antoine Gilly.

SAUCE MÉRIDIONALE

blespoon each, chopped, basil.
sage. rosemary, chervil. tarragon,
chives, Ішегі parsley (all should be
fresh)

plespoon chopped shallots

1 tablespoon minced garlic

incgar

1 cup olive oil

up wine

эп musta
14 teaspoon white pepper
Mix all herbs. shallots, garlic well

place in bowl. carefully blend in vinegar
olive oil. salt, mustard and. pepper. Re-
Irigerate until ready to serve.

SAUCE CIRCASSIAN

гай, crusts removed
anned chicken broth

2 slices white bi

Ш white onions, chopped
teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon раргі
Liquid and jelly from I сап chicken
Soak br broth; squeeze
out the moisture. Place bread, walnuts,
onions, salt, paprika, liquid and jelly
from canned chicken in electric blender.
Blend into a smooth sauce.

CANNED CHICKEN,

j 1 and bones
and cut into serving pieces. Dribble 1
teaspoon méridionale over cach piece of
one chicken. Liberally cover the pieces
of the remaining chicken with Circassian

DANISH HAMS IN ALCOHOL JELLY

The ingenious Danes have come up
with a couple of beauties: ham in Scotch
whisky and ham in French champagne
Buy a 14b., 8-07. can of cach. Decan them.
Leave them in their jelly and refrigerate
until well chilled

Slice the hams thinly (not wafer thin
but thin) and serve the slices surrounded
by the tasty jelly.

Hours ahead, you'll h
two simple that w
the table

ve run up these
appear on
aple.

ything but s

TOMATOES WITH MINED VEGETABLES

8 dead-ripe tomatoes

2 Hb. cans mixed vegetables
5

3

1

tablespoons quality mayonnaise
olive oil
freshly

tablespoon:
tablespoon
pepper
1 tablespoon salt
Wash tomatoes; core them and remove
pulp from centers. Drain the mixed vege-
tables im strainer. Place them in bowl:
add mayonnaise, olive oil, pepper and

ground

salt, Blend well.

Fill
vegetable mixtu
led.

oes with the
e until well

the holle

ch

BABY 20601
CUCUMBERS IN YOGI

NI AND
URT

It is very important to get small zuc
“шш and cucumbers. ı than twice
the size ol your thumb.

B small zucchi

8 small cucumbers

1 cups plain yoghurt

Juice of 2 lemons
tablespoons fresh dill. chopped

14 cup scallions, minced

Wash zucchini well: do
wafer th

thin. PI

peel: slice
Peel cucumbers: slice waler
«c in bowl: add yoghurt. lemon

Same man. Same haircut.
Some difference.

Bill Lund
WETHEAD

Bob Edwin
WETHEAD

Jerry Kohl
WETHEAD

Joe Hanrahan

Bill Lund after
THE DRY LOOK’

`

^ "Bob Edwin aft

THE DRY LOOK®

Jerry Kohl after
THE DRY LOOK®

Toc Hanrahan after
THE DRY LOOK"

Unretouched photos.

The Dry Look? from Gillette
made it. It’s the #1 aerosol hair
control for men. Comes in Regular
formula or Extra Hold. And it’s
the only one with an adjustable
valve that lets you spray as light
as you like.

© The Gillette Company

PLAYBOY

190

juice, dill and scallions and mis. well.
Refrigerate until well chilled.

SERVING MAIN COURSE AND SALADS

ly large
serving platter. Center it with sauced
t with jellied
e ham
d
, if you need the room) whole

Buy, rent or borrow an especi

cold chicken. Border

whisky ham on one side, champs

on the other. Arrange between ham
chick
tom

toes filled with mixed vegetables.

ГЇ! need small bowls іп which to
erve the yoghurt salad.

Before you signal that the scene
near curtain by serving brandy and
liquems. tror out two final offerings. one
lor the savvy, one for the sweet-toothers.

FRENCH BREAD AND CHEESE

2 long loaves French bread

1 piece each of the following, or
of the 100 imported Е
of your choice

Chevre

Boursault

Pont l'Evêque

Gourmandise

Beau Pasteur

Slice the bread, butter slices.

ne loal on each

у

ch cheeses

then re-

assemble as а loaf, Place
le of the table, center with the cheeses.

vorry, but the part has just been consummated.

To do justice to its character, cheese
must be served at room temperature.
Таке it out of the refrigerator at least
five hours before guests arrive. Cut one
piece from each cheese to hint to guests
how it should be done. Let them cut it
and serve themselves, placing wedges on
slices of bread and washing them down
with the soft, chilled Beaujolais, which
by this time has become the most popu-
lar pi ality at the p

апу.

This one isn't practi
поте cookouts unless you 1
able relrigerator-fr

ve a por

ezer.
aned

2 quarts strawberries. cle.
ad Marni

gna
aspberry sherbet

on. G

и strawberry ice cre;

t heavy cream, whipped

e strawberries, rand
Marnier and Ағ

in sherbet

n bowl, ро

over them, Spoon

and ice cream, blend

become
Serve

quickly so mixture does not

soupy. Stir im whipped cream

mediately.

эЧ keep your cool

DO WITH ME WHAT YOU WILL

(continued from page 94)
ош after me. but he got in trouble him-
self. So 1 don't know, 1 mean, it passed
on by. She was. She didn't want no
s her old man tr
make a Whats my mother 1
telling you. that old news? Thar
old news: that’s last year's news.”
You weren't ape. were

trouble, it w
fuss.

I tole you. it was only her fa-

ther: then he had to leave town.”
“Before this youve been arrested
right? And put on probation
And no jail sen
“That’s a way of look Р
“How do you look at
“1 hung around a long time

waiting for the trial
al or the li
Then the judge let me

то pet out
You know, the t
whatever it was.
nyway."

re 1 waited in ja
“Why couldn't vou get bond
My momma said the hell with me.”

“According ro the record. you were
for

rested twice led
ишу. W ge
“From roughing somebody up? Well.
uh, that stuff got put aside.
deal made.

“So you got off on probation twice

"Yeah. that worked өш OK.
rrested for the

were eteen

theft You ple
about the assault chai

There was

first time
old,

“You were
when

you

years

If that's what it
“That isn't bad
that’s a preny

first offense And no
Now, tell me, is all this
Your father served а five-y
sentence lor armed robbery. righiz—ihc
he left Detroit? Your mother has been on
ADC from 1959 until the present,
You have four brothers and two sisters

—
Nineteen years. old
adv aye lor

iced.

tence.
ion

аг

two children are living at home
with your mother. and your sister has a
baby herselP—áand you dowi live a

^ but nearby somewhe
money when you c

And you

уз here уоште
Were you ever employed:
Sure 1 been employed."

It isn't down here, What kind of job

unemployed.

did you have?
"How come it ain't down there?”
I don't know. What kind of job did

you 1

"Look. vou wri
Morrissey. because 1 sure was employed
< d call that an insult D way kind of a
delivery boy off and on. 1 could get ref-
crences to back me up."

“This is just a photos

it in vou

self. Mr

t copy of your

© did you wor
e that's closed up now
Whose was
1 disremember the exact name.”
“You're unemployed at the present
time, at the age of twenty-three?
“Well, 1 can't help than |...

Mr

Morrissey, you going to make a deal
for me?
“I won't have to п
"Huh?

Well that woma is awlul

¢. She's out to get me."

“In the police station she was half
зо... Her
is ull ripped. Т don't remember
at. The fr

crazy. she was scr

clothes w

none of u nt of her was all

blood. Jesus. 1 don't know, I must of
gone crazy or someth When
they brought me in, she was already
there, waiting, and she took one look
atn 1 started screaming. That was
the end.”

“She might reconsider, she might
think all this over carefully. Don't worry

bout her
fact. you lı
lieve that the wom
the

Let me worry about her. In
ve no necessary reason to be-

n who identified. vou

w woman vou followed and at
tacked. . . . It m have been another
woman. You didn't really sce her face.
АП you know is that she was whit

about her at-
it he was black. E won't have
deal for Don't. worry

ind probably all she knows
icker is t
10 make a
about that.”
"She's awful mad at
going to back down..."
с worry

you.

ain't

me, she

her. Tell me:
How did the police happen to pick you

pout

ıt for your

up? Did they have а мит
arrest?”

"Hell. no. It was a goddamn asshole
accident like a joke. . . . L uh. I was
running away from her, where I left her

and nd. I just run into
the side of the squad car. Like that
Was running like hell and run into the
side of

the car, where

was parked
without no lights on. So they picked me
up like that."

“Because

picked you up.

you they
"1 run into the side of their goddamu
fucking car."
“So they got out

id arrested vou?
эпе of them chased mc:
did he fire a shor
ure he fired a shot.”

“So you surrendered?”

7L hid somewhere, by a cella
But they found me, Bt was just a

window

damn stupid accident Jous. 14
know. 1 must of been flying so h
couldn't sce the car where it was parked

They had it parked back from the bi;

street, w

ı the lights out. I saw one of

What do you think of a guy who bought
а 150 turntable to go with а 575 amplifier
and a pair of 540 speakers?

Audio “accountants”
have formulas for

Smart.

appropriating funds to the various com-
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Usually they recommend about 20% of
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Ifyou followed the accountants’ advice
you might end up with a $5 or $10
Cartridge in a $30 changer. It would be
arithmetically compatible, and might even
sound ОК. But later on, when you can
afford that monster system

you've had your eyes on, you might

find that your records sound worse

than they did on your old cheapie system
—because the inexpensive changer, with
heavy stylus pressure and unbalanced
skating force, was grinding up the
grooves. And your cheap amp and speak-
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And now that you've spent a pile on high
power, low distortion electronics, and
wide-range speakers, you have to spend
another pile replacing your records.

So, if you think you will want the best
amplifier and speakers later, be smart
and get the best turntable now. . . the
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191

PLAYBOY

192

them with a paper cup, some coffee that
got spilled down his front, when I
banged into the door. He was surprised.”

“So they brought you into the station
and the woman was brought in also, this
Mrs. Donner, and she identified you. Is
that it? She took one look at you and
d to recognize you

“Started screaming like hell.”

“She identified you absolutely, in
spite of her hysterical state?

“I guess so."

“And you admitted attacking her?”

"I guess so.”

"Was that really the correct woman,
though? This ‘Mrs. Donner’ who is ac
cusing you of
Huh?"

"Could you have identified her?”

Me? I don't know. No. I
know."

“Lers go back to the bar. You said
there were three women there, all white
Did they Jook alike to you, or

don’t

1 don't know.”
Did one of them
tion?
"Maybe. ] don't know. One of them
+. she kind of was watching me, I
thought. They was all horsing around."
“It was very crowded in the bar? And
this woman, this particular woman,
looked at you. Did she smile at you?
“They was all laughing. you know,
and if they looked around the place,
why, it would seem they was smiling.

tch your atten-

22.1 dort know which one it was. I'm
all mixed up on th

“Would you say 0
call her ‘Mrs, Donne
woman was behaving in a way that was
provocative? She was looking at you or
toward you, and at other men?”

"There was a lot of guys in there,
black guys, and some white guys, too. I
liked the tone of that place. There was
a good feeling there. I wasn't drunk,
but..."

“Yes, you were drunk.”
“Naw, L was high on my own power,
Tonly had a few drinks.”

“You were drunk; that happens to be
а fact. Thats an important fact. Don't
forget it.”

“I was drunk . . . 7

“Yes. You were drunk. And a white
woman did smile at you, in a bar on
Gratiot; let's say it was this "Mrs. Don-
ner’ who is charging you with rape. Do
you know anything about her? No. I'll
tell you: She's married, separated. from
her husband, the husband's whereabouts
are unknown, she's been on and oll wel-
fare since 1961, she worked for a while
at Leonard's Downtown, the department
store, and was disch
evidently took some merchandise home
with her . . . and she's been unem-
ployed since September of last year, but
without any visible means of support: no
welfare. So she won't be able to account
for her means of support since берісі
ber, if that should come up in court.”

Uh. ... You going to make a deal
with them, then?’

"I don’t have to make a deal. I told
you to Jet me worry about her. She has
to testify against you, and she has to
convince a jury that she didn't deserve
to be followed by you, that she didn't
entice you, she didn't smile at you. She
has to convince a jury that she didn’t
deserve whatever happened to her. . . .
She did smile at you?"

“Well, uh, you know how it was 2
a lot of guys crowding around, shifting
around. .. . I don't know which one of
the women for sure looked at me, there
was three of them, maybe they all did
+++ or maybe just one... or... It
5 confused. Some guys was b
them drinks and I couldn't get too close,
I didn't know anybody there. I liked the
tone of the place, but 1 w the
‚ you know? I was having my
own party іп my head. Then 1 saw this
one woman get mad and put on her
coat г

“A light-colored coat? An imitation-

5 on

fu

“Jesus, how do I know? Saw her pur
her arm in a sleeve..."
And she walked out? Alone

“Yeah. So 1... I got very jumpy.
-> + L thought I would follow her, you
know, just see what happens..."

"But you didn't follow her wi
intention of committing rape."

Par

"You wanted to talk to her, maybe?
She'd smiled at you and you wanted to
talk to her?”

71 don't know if. .

“This white woman, whose name you
didn't know, had smiled at you. She
then left the bar—that is, Carson's Tav-
ern—at about шіп completely
alone, unescorted, and she walked out
long the street. Is this tru

"Yee"

"When did she notice that you were

following herz

h ihe

"hen what happened:

“she started walking Faster,”

"Did she pause or give any sign to
you? You mentioned diat she kept look
ing over her shoulder at you—”

“Yeah.”

“Then she started to run?

"Veal

“She tried 10 get someone to stop, to
Jet her in his саг, but he wouldn't. He
drove away. She was drunk, wasn't she,
ad screaming at him?”

с was screaming... ~
She was drunk, too. That happens to
fact. You were both drunk, those
аз. This ‘Mrs. Donner’ who is ac-
cusing you of rape was drunk at the
time. So... . The dr п the Pontiac
drove away and you approached. her.

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Was it the same woman who had smiled
at you in the tavern?
"Ethink ... uh... . I don't know. ...’
"Shc was the woman from the tav-
erm?"
"That got mad and put her coat оп?
e. She walked out. . . .”
"Did all three women more or less
behave in the same manner? They
were very loud, they'd been dri
you really couldn't distinguish betwe
them.
“I don't know."
"When you caught up to the woman,
what did she say to you?"
“Say? Nothing. No words."
"She was scrcaming?"
“Oh, yeah.”
“What did you say to her?"
“Nothing”
“Could you identify her?”
"p... uh... . Thats where T get
mixed up.”
“Why?”
“I don't remember no face to her."
“Why not?”
“Must not of looked at it.”
"Back in the bar, you didn’t look
ither?"
Well yes ... but Lo... Its
like. Like a blur.”
"Mrs. Donner' says you threat
ened to kill her. Is that true?"
“If she says so. . .
"No, hell. Don't worry about what she
says. What do you say?"
"I don't remember."
“Lay still or ГИ kill you. Did you
say that?"
“Is that what they have down?"
“Did you say it? Lay still or РИ kill
you?”
“That don't sound like me.”
"You didn’t say anything to her, did
you?"
"When? When we was fighting?"
t amy time."
“I don't remember."
“Іп the confusion of struggling, it
ely you said anything to her, is
ything so distinct as that? Or
(other. n, another black
n, who attacked this
nd she's confusing him with you -
“Ше”
"Did you intend to kill her?”
“No.”
“What did you have in mind, when
you followed her out of the tavern?”
“Oh, you know . . . I was kind of
Strung. ..
She had smiled at you, so you
ıt she might be friendly? A pretty

all a

s old, with her hair fixed up a

ion-fur coat, who had
at you, a stranger, in a bar... ? You
thought she might be friendly, wasn’t

“Feel like another swim?”

"Friendly? Jesus! I never expected
no friendship, that's for sure."

“Well, put yourself back in that situa-
tion. Don't be so sure. If a white woman
smiled at you, and you followed her out
onto the strect, it would be logical you
might expect her to be friendly toward
you. Keep your mind dear. You don't
have to believe what other people tell
you about yourself; you don't have to
believe that you assaulted that woman
just because she says you did. Things
aren't so simple. Did you expect her to
fight you off?"

Don't know."

“If she hadn't fought
wouldn't be any crime
would there? She resisted you, she pro-
voked you into a frenzy. . . . But don't
think about that. 111 think about that
angle. I'm the one who's going to ques-
tion. Mrs. Donner, and then we'll sce
who's guilty of wl .. But one im-
portant thing: Why didn't you tell the
police that you realy didn't recognize
the woman, yoursel?”

“Huh? Jesus, they'd of been mad as
hell.

5, they would have been mad, they
might haye beaten you some more. You
were te
of course, you didn't Meo you didn't
say anything. Because she's a white
woman and you're black, Isn't that. the.

"I don't know.”

“There weren't any black men in the
station re the only black man
there. So you thought it would be the
most. prudent thing to confess to
everything, because this white woman
and the white police had you, they had

you. and you considered yourself fair
game. And already you'd been beaten,
your mouth was bleeding, and you
didn't know you had the right to an at-
torney, to any help at all. You were co
pletely isolated. They could do anything
to you they wanted Your instincts
told you to go along with them, to coop-
erate. Nobody can blame you for that:
that’s how you survived. Does any of this
sound familiar to yor

"Some kind of way, yes. .
think so.

“And the police demonstrated. their
antagonism toward you, their automatic
assumption of your guilt, even though
the woman who accused you of rape was
a probable prostitute, a woman of very
doubtful reputation who led you on,
who enticed you out into the street
22. and then evidently changed her
mind, or became frightened when she
saw how excited you were. Is that it?
Why do you think she identified you so
quickly, why was she so certa ain?"
Тиз of seen my
"How did she see your face, if you
didn't sce hers?”

“I saw hers but didn't take it i
know, I 4 of blacked out .
was fighting me olf а

2- Жа 1

‚ you
+= ae
id that drove me

wild... it was good luck she stopped,
ог... or something else might of hap-
pened. . . . You know how frenzied you

get, There was a strectlight there. and
1 thought to myself, She ain't going to
forget me."

“Why not?”
ave her a good look at my face. My
face is important to me.”

193

PLAYBOY

Winners and Losers

room and then, turning to one of the
senior prelects, said: "That young n
or. Mark my words, he'll go Га
waited, hoping to hear further, more
pragmatic proof of the boy
but none was forthcoming. "Which tre
bled me. since Lockland was a craven
fellow with none of the qualities that I
associated with "winning" or "going
Tar." He was an overly attentive student;
he neither boxed nor wrestled nor H
he kept to his bed after lights out and.
took no delight in poetry or іп photo-
graphs of Esther Williams: ther did
he smoke nor masturbate and he called
his mother Mama. А winner. Even
some 20 years on, I remember thi
that if these were the qualities on which
Lockland had been propelled to his taw-
dry fame, then I would concentrate on
becoming the most notorious loser in the
school's history.

All of which brings me to the point (or
nearer the point) of this particular tale.
Taught from the start to believe in abso-
lutes, I found myself still half in love
with the lie that losers were unlucky, that
winners were merely fortunate and privy
to nonc of those sudden catastrophes that
snap at the heels of lesser men. But only
in part. Of what befell the wily Lockland
(who was likely cnough an honorable, if
priggish lad), I shall probably never
know. But he was a debut of sorts for
me—the first in an irksome series of ap-
parent winners. And, if the unanimous
decision of my masters is to be believed,
Т, well, I was my first loser. Misfortune,
like charity. begins at home.
and losers, then: The types
ar a part of our mythology,
we [eel their faces could be picked as
easily as twins’ from the crowd. One, а
cocky fellow with a sclfappointed
the other, drawn and self-def .
ihe look of a man who would pawn his
soul if he could somehow ascertain its
worth. We have come to see them as
Іше more than trite and quintessential

wi

types. As a result, whenever someone
e he is

points them out to me, I feel su
Iso trying to conve:

ious of American
gamblers, claimed that the only
between winners and losers was one of
character, which, he added, was about
the only difference one could really find
between people anyway. But Nick held

rigid view of the world- tails,
win or lose, no two ways about it. He
was a gambler and gamblers incline to
unconditional views.

During the past few months, I have
consorted with two such men—not to de-
fine myself or them but to understand
that part of myself we had in common. 1

15 «1

2

194 ат not a constant. player and gambling

(continued [rom page 118)

does little more than occasionally appease
the romantic excesses my gods demand of
me. For me, it is more of a cold than a
cancer—incurable, perhaps, but hesitantly
held in check. They, however, were proles-
sionals—or “compulsive gamblers,” for
those who prefer psychological names for
our passions. But they had very little in
common. It was only in the pursuit of
their passion that they could be said to
have been alike. That pursuit was more
important to them than God or love or
money, even. To call one of them a win-
ner, the other a loser is too easy, too un-
interesting a definition, since, at the
beginning, they both believed the force
of their passion would somehow see them
through. Much later, when I frst en-
countered them, there was only this to

tell them apart: One of them, а bootleg-
дег boy from Tennessee, believed that,
given time and talent and happy odds,

all things were possible. The other, whose

youth had been fat with promises of
power and prestige, knew by the time he
turned 40 th.

he would never bel

My boy .. . always try to rub up
against money, for if you rub up against
money long enough, some of it may rub
off on you. — MAMON RUNYON

His name was Walter Clyde Pearson,
but few of his friends or acquaintances
knew it. For as long as he could remem-
ber, he had been called Pug—because of
his nose, irrevocably flattened from a boy-
hood fall. Everyone called him Pug with
what amounted to an implied
ity—the doormen and carhops at the Las
Vegas Strip hotels, the shills, the show-
girls, the dealers and grifters and
hapless players who came to sit
t poker. Only his mother,
with the Southern custom, с
Waler Clyde. He must have liked the
nickname or had grown accustomed to it.
п telling me comic tales of his carly
gambling days, he sometimes referred to
himself as Pug—as though he were talk-
pigcon, or some
nd, perhaps, whom he i
ave amused me to know.

He had a candid sense of humor,
brusque and down to earth. He would
not have noticed irony nor appreciated

plied it would I

it if he had, He wasn't that kind of ma
nor did he have that k
bulatory mind. He saw things simply and

then brought a kind of inspired logic to
bear. He once, for example, explained to
me why there were so few good poker
players in the count
“has a language all its own, but you doi
expect most folks to understand it, any
more than you expect "em to understand
Egyptian

Pug was good with people in the way

some men are good with dogs. People re-
sponded to some quality of sell-belief іп
n, which gave them an illusion of po-
warmth and safety. It was the illu-

m. Pug used

» to exert an influ-

extended and completed the illusion. 1
had been told 1 would have no difficulty
recognizi “You'll know him

s colleagues had said. "

ly built man іп his early 40s who
ed his almost-total. baldness with a
le-brimmed straw hat. He had the
round mischievous face of an elderly
troll, a troll with a fondness for Cuban ci
gars. There was an air of jauntiness about
him and of inexhaustible good spirits, the
r of a man who had had his share of
assing pleasure.

Yet, despite the way he

cov
wi

mediately
ссе
difficult тап to

took onc into his confidence, his
bility, he had been
meet, implying that
anonymity. Nick the
Fame

detract from his
Greek observed that in gambling, 7
is usually followed by a
and Pug, at least temporarily, h
some similar belief. "Son, you can't be too
reful," he explained. “The
at ds like the

m
Like they was some kii

II tell you. Gamblers are the most broad-
minded people in the world. H more folks
e "em, there would be fewer laws.
Thats on the square. You've got to be
sharp in this world, no matter what you
business is, or the world is gonna gobble
you up. That's what it’s all about, son.
That's what they call life.” Pug liked to
imply, and with good reason, that he
knew more about life than he pretended.
1 his obvious airs of opulence, cm-
phasized by the wad of $100 bills he c;
ried, one tended to forget that his life
had not always been so prosperous—that
once, prosperity had seemed not only
improbable but beyond the ken of any
experience he or his family had ever had.

Pug was born in Kentucky іп early

29. It was not an auspicious time, he re-
called, and he was not referring to the De-
pression. Reports of im

were

inent depressi
would not have meant much to h
Jy. There had been no joy in App
fo ion or more. "My folks were
what we used to call 'God-farin people!
Church of Christ,” he said. His father was
a sharecropper, tilling other people
land, though he worked at any job that
came his way, including a stint at build-
ing roads for the WPA. When times were
1 he ran bootleg
whiskey, till a competitor's gun removed
his little finger. There is a portrait of the
old man in Pug's mother's parlor. Posed
his rough Sunday best, he looked as
many men of that period did in their

alachi.

‚ as they often wer

“This is not going to help my Messianic complex, doctor.”

195

PLAYBOY

196

photographs—stern and upright, with a
look of moral condescension in the face.
Whatever else the photograph implied, it
reminded Pug that his father was often
sullen and usually unemployed. In 193
the family drifted south into Jackson
County, Tennessee, following rumors of
work from one hollow town to another.
Before Pug was ten, he had lived in nearly
20 of those towns, The
the same reason—slipp ay in the
ad of night because the rent was due at
They moved from Reese Hollow
Branch by covered wagon and
1 the blackened pots
4 from the wagon as
ty road.

always moved for

g

Pug can still rc
and pans swing
he walked beh

п the dapboard-and-log houses of the
region, using coal oil lor light, wood
stoves for he . The potatoes
and whiskey were buried in the ground,
the perishables were stored in the well
house, the meat in the small smokehouse,
nd when there was fruit, it was dried and
hung inside from the rafters. Times were
hard and the nine children often went
for days with nothing to eat but beans.
Pug never saw a loaf of bread before he
was ten. Even after they had moved to
Nashville at the beginning of the w
the family’s main diet consisted of corn
bread, molasses and biscuits. "We never
had meat," Pug remembered, "When I
ate lunch at school, I was always conscio
ol the litle our family had to cat. TI
other kids had good food—peanut butter
id crackers and jam—bur we ate biscuits
and molasses. The other kids used to rib
me a lot and, believe me, kids on kids is
tougher than anything:

Once they had moved to Nashville,
much else could be overlooked. They
were in a city and they settled down. Back
the hollows, the Pearsons had never
scttled—they had never cleared the land,
nor plowed, nor built, nor created for
themselves a single place of permanence.
They had established an identity of a
kind; that is, they were remembered—
е to this day the up hollows are filled
with Pearsons—but they were remem-
bered as transients. But that was all be-
hind Pug now. “I don't know how I ever
got out," he said. "A mirade, 1 guess.
Evolution on the move."

color of his youth, There was a lot to do
in the city then, particularly for a boy ac
customed to ап absence of temptation.
To gain time, at 1 he left school. He had
ly discovered where his real talents
271 started bustin’ real young,” he re-
called, “at ten or eleven. I just started
playi ds and pool with the other
paper boys. In those days, there
pool hall on every corner and Eddie Tay
lor and New York Fats were our heroes.
They came through Nashville all the

а

time.” At 13, Pug hitchhiked to Tampa
with three dollars in his pocket. In two
weeks, he made over $1000, more money
than he thought existed, playing pool.
“But I was burglared," he said, “so 1 had
to come home.
a day to a sr
to pitch half dollars to the 1
eled а lot in his early teens and he soon
began to feel he had exhausted №
vill&'s possibilities. His appe
become insatiable, though he
in different terms. It was just
Nashville seemed somehow smaller
and more confined than Farn's Branch or
Reese Hollow had ever been. In 1945,
at the age of 16, Pug joined the Navy to
get what the Navy assured him would
be an education.
ally start to play poker till
vy,” he said. "I learned the
game real good. While everyone else was
throwin’ their money on drink and
women, I was organizing poker games
and playin’, When I got out, I'd saved
bout twenty thousand.” He returned to
Nashville. He opened a couple of bars,
but that soon bored him. He had an itch
to play cards and Nashville was no place
for poker. "Between 1951 and 1957, I
had this poker route, you see. Used to
ke the trip at least twice a year. I'd рег
in that old car and drive up to Bardstown
nd Bowling Green, to Louisville, At
go, and sometimes down as
s Miami. A poker game every night.
Those old boys could always count on ше
droppin' in on their little games. Knew I
was comin’—same as Santa Claus. Т
played most everything. 1 played а lot of
‘gityou-one’ and cooncan, ап awful lot.
But 1 loved poker. I got so good at that
game 1 could play with folks that used
marked cards and signals and God knows
what and beat ‘em every time. Them old
boys used to call me ‘Catfish Jones, swim-
min up a muddy stream, because they
ney in’. 1 ca
their blind spots 1 played and p
"The thing of it is that when yo
you've got no sense of time. And time
passes the quickest during a poker game.
Why, I got up from a game once, turned
round a couple of times, and five or s
years had gone by. That was in 1957. For
poker route. 1 played one
nother. Thav’s all 1 did.”

Pug had an excellent memory. The
story of the poker route was the only
опе he told me twice. I assumed it dis-
turbed him, that somewhere along the
way he had nurtured other dreams, which
he had not had time to follow. But his
dreams had been conventional enough.
He had never had what are called illu-
sions. no elusive sense of the ideal It
would have contravened his sense of
der, "When I first started gamblin'," he
remembered, "I suppose all 1 wanted was
big Cadillac, my own cue and cue case
and a pocketful of money. What would

т saw me comi

a kid,

you expect a poor country boy from down
yonder to want? Now I sometimes feel I
en't accomplished mn thing. I
abled out of necessity to start, Now it's
too late for anything else.

The Aladdin is no gaudier than any
other hotel on the Suip. Given the am-
bience, the names of the hotel's ma
rooms—the Sabre Room. the бін!
Lounge. the Gold Room and the Bagdad
Theater—make as much sense as its mock-
Byzantine facade. The cardroom is across
from the Sinbad Lounge, in the large
n room on the ground floor, where
nightly some of the biggest poker games
in the world are played. Here Pug Pear-
son holds court in a way Neil Diamond
must have had in mind when he sang of
in a highaolling
At first, it seems more
than a little preposterous to find Pug—
“a poor country boy from down yonder
—in such an opulent environment, until
one understands that here the Ameri
ideal has been carried to its most pi
conclusion; a place where, reg:
differences in
lig
momentarily creates that illusion. It is
panacea of the merchant classes. On the
wall above the card tables is а sign that
reads: POKER—24 HOURS EVERY DAY. Above
the sign is a spread royal heart flush.

"The cardroom is not а room at all, since
i s а side of the casino and is
open to traffic between the slot machines

in the lobby and the stage, from which
pours the amplified noise of resident tal-
ent. Round about the card tables is the
crowd of tourists and hopeful high roll-
ers, ulously dressed as jesters, the
shills and stickmen, the security men and
badcredit boys acting as a kind of palace
guard, and here and there an itinerant
sinner, The people come and go like refu-
gees—the places of the departed зо quick-
ly taken by new arrivals that there is little
impression of real movement: just a kind
of tei nd the garbled
sounds of the machines and the music
and the mob lifted in endless crescendo.
It is here that Pug. who has never been
as innocent as any of them, makes his
daily bread.

Pug has lived in Vegas for ten years.
He, his wife and daughter occupy a
bling house on the nice, suburban
edge of the city. His wife is also from

т and Pug claims they still
miss the hills and streams of
But Vegas is where the actio
is way of lile, be
"there ain't no changin
ction docs not mean casy
money, though there is that, too. But
some of the best poker players in the
country live in Vegas. Almost to a m;
they are Southerners, from "Texas, Okla
homa and Kentucky, and, like Pug, poor
boys become well to do because of a

se restlessness
hi

nnessee,
and
ке,

pore. aa.

ЯЗ! еле
vmi

T

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197

PLAYBOY

198

valent at cards. Gambling, as Pug cer
believes, was born of necessity and
sents the open road to Avalon, It is a
curious fact that, like the American mil,
гу-80 percent of whom above the rank
of major are Southerners—the majority
of professional cardplayers (and card:
sharps) are Southerners, Tl

sense, Pi
peers, maintains a loose hold on
roots. Eliminate the slot machines à
the vulgar Western crowds, listen to the
players in the Aladdin Hotel and one
might easily be in Abilene or Tulsa or
Bowling Green

‘The night I walked into the Aladdin, I
was told I could find Pug at the poker
table, where he had been for the past
hours, He was dressed as he alway
was—the striped trousers, the short-
sleeved shirt, the colored shoes and the
wide straw hat. He looked no more out-
dish than anyone else in the room; һе
home. There was an
air of permanence about him, the slightly
bored authority of a teacher who has
taught the same course for 20 years. He
was in the middle of a hand and looked,
as Nick the Greek had once been de-
scribed, “like a guy sitting with an icicle
up his ass" Looking round the crowded
noisy room, I remembered that this was
the place Pug had called his office, a
place of business to which he came each
night; his opponents, seated now round
the greenfelt table in various attitudes
of peevish dejection, he had referred to
his clientele. They were all there—
Alabama Blackie, Treetop Jack
Nigger Nate Raymond, Texas Dolly
Doyle and a group of lesser players, all
of whom looked like they had ridden
night from the ranch.

In Las Vegas, Pug was deferred to—as
parents defer to favorite sons. Everyone
seemed to know him, Waitresses assured
themselves his glass was always filled with
water or tea or Seven-Up; passersby
stopped to chat or to whisper urgent mes-
sages in his car; and players, en route to
other games, paused to discuss old times
or future plans. All of which Pug ac-
cepted as his due. "Folks know me real
well out here,” he explained. “I could s
down in the middle of the freeway
get a game going, because people like to
play with me. They like my action. They
know I'm gonna give "em a square gam-
ble. Th it’s all about. 1 can beat
"em and beat ‘em and they'll always come
back, But fuck "em out of a quarter and
they'll leave forever. It gives ‘em ап ex-

nly
epre-

nt

па

t's wh:

red he
аа.
ac, "is like smoking.
bitforming, believe me. Some of
the players at this here table couldn't
beat Tom Thumb at nothin’, But Joss is

inevitable. The question is how much
you control it. A winner is first and fore-
most a controller. "That's why in life, I'm
just a litle beuer Шап even—and an
odds-on favorite to stay that way
"You've got to remember that in poker,
there are more winners than losers. At
st at the higher levels. I'd say there was
io of twenty to one. But losers are
s. One loser supplies a lot
And the better the player, the
bigger the cut. Thars what they call
the great pyramid of gamblin'. Sharks at
the top, then the rounders, the m
and at the boom the fish—the
suckers, the suppliers Scavengers and
s, just n life.
“Ies a funn: like
running a grocery store. You buy and you
sell. You pay the going rate for cards and
you шу and sell "еш for more than you
paid. A gamblers ace is his ability to
think clearly under stress. That's very im-
portant, because, you see, fear is the basis
of all mankind. In cards, you psych "em
out, you shark “еш, you put the fear of
God "s life. Everything's men
tal in life. Тһе butt was made to lug the
mind around. The most important thing
blin’ is knowing the sixty-forty end
of the proposition and knowing the
human element. Some folks may know
one of ‘em, but ain't many knew ‘em
both. 1 believe im logics. Cut and dried.
Two and two ain't nothin’ in this world
but four. But them suckers always thi
different. Makes you th
don't it? I play percentages in everything
Now, knowing the percentages perfectly,
the kind of numbers you read in them
books, is all right. but the hidden percent-
ages are more important. The thing to
know is that folks will stand to lose more
than they will to win. That's the most im-
portant percentage there is. I mean, if
they lose, they're willin to lose every:
thing. If they win, they're usually satis-
fied to win enough to pay for dinner
а show. The best gamblers know that."
I sat next to Pug or jus behind
like a stowaway, and between hands or
when he folded early, we talked. There
were usually five or six players sitting
round the table—with piles of 5100 bills
and various stacks of colored сі
front of them. As a rule, the players re-
mained the same, though occasionally,
г would leave

its somethi

noth
e his р
were no introductions. They a
to know one another and Pug referred to
them as “environment.” They played
limit poker—usually five- or seven-card
stud—which Pug believed was the b
kind of poker, because there was 1
jeopardy and the best player always won.
Once, in the middle of a hand, Pug sud-
denly turned as though he had forgotten
somet aid, "Always remember,
the first thing a gambler has to do is make

one went broke or

and someone would

friends with himself. A lot of people go
through this world thinking they re some-

one else. There are a lot of players sitting
at this table with mistaken identities. You
wouldn't believe it.”

The hands went on and on through-
out the night. At midnight, Pug's wife
phoned to say good night. He continued
to play while he talked to her. At one
point, he was almost $10,000 ahead, but
by four in the morning, he had lost most
of it. He was tired. He had been up too
Jong and knew he wasn't giving the
the attention it required. But ће bega

ng again and his game was soon in-
ierspersed with running comment and
cism. Toward the end of o
he turned up his cards i
will beat your two qu

"Christ, Pug, how'd you К
queens?” said his opponen
through my ca

had
"You sce

nbler,
id reader." Another player, a
‘Texan, decided to leave, taking close to
$8000 in winnings with him. As he left,
Pug said, "He'll be back. He's a great
poker player, but, like most gamblers,
he's got a lot of bad habits—craps, v
lette and the football." Beating another
player for a small pot, Pug said to him,
if I'd had your hand, Га of won
laughed. “That's the thing of poker,
aid. “Ideally, you want the winning
hands to pay and the losing hands to
win." At ten in the morning, Pug was
about $2500 ahead. He decided to play a
final hand. The calls and raises went back
id forth until there some $1000
the pot. Only Pug
had stayed їп. Pug was very quiet. The
seventh card was dealt. It was his call. He
hesitated for
and, pushing a pile of bills into the pot,

I'm gonna raise you, son, ‘cause
t got nothin’ in that hand but
He didn't wait for
Turning over his hand, he pulled
the pot

The other player simply put down his

cards and, shaking head in disbelief.
sud. "Pug, you're the goddamnedest
lucky player."
Pug grinned, lighting up a fresh cigar
s he put his money in his pocket, we left.
They all think I'm the luckiest son of
bitch in the world,” he said. “1 like that;
it brings "cm back. Hell, ain't no one сап
fill an ight quick 1 mc. ГЇЇ
tell you about luck. I believe in it, sure,
even though I know there ain't no such
thing. But other folks believe in it and
sometimes it's downright polite to go
along with their beliefs. Just remember
one thing—luck ain't never paid the
bills."

‘That morning, he told me the story of
the biggest hand he had ever won. wa
playin’ Johnny Moss," he said, “at deuc
to-the-seven lowball. Ka lowball,

inside stra

The rich have to tra
same roads as everyon:

Face the same pitfalls.
Weather the same storms.

So we've armed them with a
Volvo of their own.

The Volvo 164.

It provides the luxuries
people of wealth consider

Intinitely adjustable seats

E enveloping pum in vin
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of rustproofing,
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Just because a man is rich
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THE VOLVO 164

© ıa waive or

PLAYBOY

ү call it. Snaighis and flushes count
against you. The perfect hand is two-
threc-four-five-se ‘ow, I'm dealt a
two-threefourseven-jack. There were six
or seven players in the game, а two-
hundred-dollar ante. Aler the first
round, there ain't but тсе of us left in
the pet—Johnay, me and another guy,
who was sitting on my right. He opens
ith a thousand, I raise iwenty-cight
hundred, Johnny calls and raises five
thousand and. then this guy only calls.
Well. 1 know this guy. see, and hes
tight player. and when he calls I fig
ot a perlect hand, wh

biade.

he's (d
аза hundred to one lı
So T push all my checks into the pot
about twenty-five. thousand—hoping to
pick ıt there. Well. there's about
forty-seven thousand in that pot now.
Johnny sits there and stalls ls and
does a lot of whispering with his con
federate. I know he's got a real tou
and, possibly a two-three-four-seven а
a ten or a jack, And I'm worried. Well. 1
know what Johnnys thinkin’ and |
so that | know
just like he knows
what Emi thi Hell. were environ-
nt, we know each other like hills and
inally, Johnny calls for what
lı is fileen thousand

s gonna draw.

1 his money.
but what hap-
Iu throws in his

ain't the same il
à secret in cards
money

vestme
се on үс

guy drawn. Pm
gi jack. but he drops,
so Г stand. pat. figuring to make Johnny

come off his hand. Hoping hell de
Johnny is in Last position. And he's
certain. He knows I play kinda wild.
Now. he stalls and stalls. 1 can see the
BBs goin’ round and round in his head.
just like he sces mine, though not so
dearly—Johnny’s gettin’ on. No more

n be made. so he knows I'm not
He also knows Fm not bluff
fine line. son, [

I'm not. Fm plasi
readi

s my people т
knew it, | was like on
a baton in front of an orchestra
playin’ it like Libe And Johnny,
Johnny knows I got a hand. But wh:
d of hand do EH He probably

c or an eight, so
he do? He pooches it and
draws. Now, once he hits that deck, I'm
ighianda-half-to-five

lavorite to win. As he draws, I flop over
my hand and say. ‘Johnny, you made a
intake, now beat tli "He had
ded a ten ‘Oh, my
says. CP dumped the winning

nd.’ And T raked in the pot of sixty-
па. Now, that's what 1 mean

nearly noon. Pug took me round

his garden, which he had reclaimed from
the desert. “It’s a long way from Jackson

Even here, in
wasn’t [ar away and it rem
for all his practical
to play and keep
push Іші
always there; it was responsible for the
dream in which he had become m
rooned. It was why he talked so in
tely of loss and why suddenly, as if in
iswer to a question 1 had asked. some
to

Las Vegas.
ded me that

2%;

g would have

order to

n overwhe

he said. almost isper.
con themselves that they can win
nd that’s why they keep on coming back.
They have 10, you understand,
they'd hold a bad opinion of themselves
otherwise, But without ‘em, there would
be no winners, No me.” He paused, then
added: “And that would be contrary to
the laws of nature. Wouldn't be right,”

what he

ed to ihi
ure, them
being that he would always be a winne
Although he had beeu broke before, he
believed the odds had set things right and
| also promised something
more. And perhaps they had—though it
continued to elude him. Like his father.
before him, chasing rumors of work from
still. pursued.
tion. Aud in
ust have won-
ialized, No
at suitor. Tomor-

Tomorrow . . . or
1 the cards,

one ol

опе town to another, Pu

dered why it had
matter. Не was a pati
row. it would come.
the day after. Lev

1 hope 1 break even today. I need the
money. — JOE E. LEWIS

He had always been just another face
in the catalog of dark
bered cross
player across a backgammon board
of New York's darker East Side bars. No
one, it seemed, knew much about him.
Bo Swickland was his name, though 1 was
me was George, as his
her's had been
called him Bo. pre-
ause he was born in Boston.

d half-rc;

aces Irom me—another

n one

before him.
ply b
cent

His
stilted. He had only to a
a drink to indicate that he cime from
Boston or from one of the clapboard
towns in that v

He was a tall m
cratic face, which in the dim light of the
bar seemed to have just two.
—one taut with a kind of pre
gret, the other a lazy look of diffident ci
ion, the look of а boy who has been
praised for something he hasn't actually
done. In his mid-füs, he was always
dressed in pe suit, as

was crisp

x pressions
ounced re-

r

though he had just
fice. He had, in fact, that dour commer-
cial air one usually attributes to members
of the banking and stockbroki

pro-
fessions. Yet he also had the casual au-
thority of a man with private funds. But

it was difficult to know much about Bo.
He usually arvived after midnight and
y stayed more than an hour or two.
1 didn't know him very well: We ex-
changed the humdrum pleasantries of
strangers who happen to gamble at the
sime game.
I would not have remembered him at

all had not a curious incident occurred.
One evening toward midnight, 1 stopped
for a drink in one of those noisy "Сеге

man” bars that clutter the Yorkville sec
tion of New York. Just inside the door.
I looked across to the bar and there.

pron round h
; drinks. Without his pinstripe suit
‚ he looked older, that taut look
of regret more deeply pronounced th.
usual Even his h
hack, fell across
cheap. equivocal disguise. He looked
somehow vulnerable and suddenly. not
wishing to be сеп, I turned back to the
door. But Bo. at that moment, looked up
and saw me there. He did not seem em-
Darrassed nor particularly put out, almost
gry. rath d when а customer de
ded service from down the bar, he
тиру turned away.

Some I saw him again. He
was at the backgammon table in his pi
stripe suit. Looking occasionally at his
watch, he played with that unrullled
poise of his—the impression of a busy
man between important errands. He no
ticed me at the bar, though he showed no
sign of recognition. But when he was
through playing, he rose and offered to
buy me a drink. It was the first in a
series of drinks and dinners and though
we never became friends, we struck
for a time a loose and сусп conviv
association.

At the best of times it is difficult for
anyone to admit his failures, and Bo was
no exception. To the end, he insisicd he
had merely been unlucky. When his bar.
tending job was over, we would go to hi
apartment or sit and drink at one of the
back tables in the bar, often until dosing
time, and Bo would recite the tale of his
decline and fall in the sort of apathetic
tones that schoolboys use when reciting
passages they have had to memorize the
night before. He теі

ibi. But, for
s an inadequate li
r he wished to gloss over certain

Whenev
portions of his life, his words would run

together and his fingers would tw
endlessly through his thinning hai

they speak for themselves, he seemed to
say. The trouble was that 1 was forced to

zo.

"I came home horny. Doesn't that count for anything?"

201

PLAYBOY

202

see them exclusively through Вог disarm-
ingand often dodgy point of view.

He was the only child of an old Boston
family. Born just before the Depression,
he had no real sense of that grotesque oc-
casion. He remembered only that it had
not disturbed the opulent composure of
his father's home; when it was mentioned
at all, it was made to seem like some
tastic rumor, like one of those catas-
trophes that frequent the far side of the
world, an earthquake or a tidal wav
which are horrible but ultimately unim-
portant, since they involve Peruvians or
Turks or Pakistani

Bo’s childhood was that circumscribed.
Although he cannot remember feeling
one way or another about it then, when
older, he developed а fear of partitioned
spaces and interrupted views—a hatred,
in fact, for any obstacle that set a limi
his actions. But at that time, his little
world was as neat and elegant as а co-
coon. His family had always had money;
it was, his father liked to say, a family cus-
tom. Only once in their dull untroubled
history had a note of alarm been intro-
duced. His grandfather (by all accounts,
a monstrous man) had squandered his in-
heritance on what used to be called loose
women and riotous living. Accounts of
his spendthrift ways occasionally filtered

down to a spellbound Bo, though it was
forbidden to mention his name in the
house. A monstrous man, Although the
family had continued to maintain houses
n Boston and on the Cape, when Bo's
parents had married, they'd lived in
“comparative penu But his father
soon righted the balance by making a
fortune in real estate.

Bo's mother had died in childbirth:
unexpected complications, too great а
loss of blood, a fı condition—there
never was a satisfactory answer. But his
father had been unaffected. A
stoic man, he saw in Bo the con
of the Strickland line and he treated him.
not as à son but as his eventual successor.
He seemed to imply that although certain
gestures would be made, although certain
idards would be indifferently upheld,
Bo’s real life was to be somehow sus
pended until that day arrived. Of the
boys capabilities, the father had no
doubis—a chip off the old block, you un-
derstand. Making those smug assump-
tions, which fathers often make of only
sons, he would say to Bo: "Remember,
Son, you're a Strickland," as though that
were more than most could hope for. It
was a long time before Bo could repeat
those words, cven to himself, without
breaking into raucous laughter.

“Phallic symbol? I'd hate to tell you
what it looks like to me!"

Before he was 12, the boy had been sent
to a series of fashionable day schools—till
he was old enough to attend Choate. As а
student, he was never more than satisfa
tory, but he did enough to get by and to
be admitted to Princeton. Again, he made
no particular mark, though he became
conspicuous in other ways. He was one of
those people who always seem to get a
with things. Before the end of 1
тап year, he was admired for what was
thought to be his audacity and his eccen-

tric charm. The latter quality, one of the

few things he had not inherited from h
father, enabled him to enter worlds from
which his conduct should have barred
him, Bad habits are often best у
what appear to be good manners; and
Bo merely contrived the one to camou-
flage the other. His charm covered а mul-
titude of errors, the earliest of which was
gambling. "I gambled even as a ki
recalled. "It amused me, and b
was good at it. I learned to play pok
fore I was ten. 1 knew those odds and per
centages before I knew my multiplication
tables" He liked to think that if gam-
bling had been in the curriculum, he
would have graduated from Princeton
with honor

As it happened, he was fortunate to
have graduated at all. As before, he did
just enough to get by —concentrating his
brightest efforts on giving or going to
elaborate dances, parties and masquer-
ades, spending giddy weekends in New
York, Palm Beach or at one or another of
the East Coast tracks. Bo looked on
Princeton as a smart and rather amusing
resort—a place where it was pos
entertain. his friends and where,
had money, all but the most major i
fractions of college etiquette were gene:
ously overlooked. When Princeton gave
him his degree, Bo accepted it as a kind of
compliment for having executed some
extraordinary practical јок

After graduation, he spent 18 months
in Europe undergoing a sort of grand
tour from Londe
ritz ло Cannes and Monte Carlo, to San
Remo and to many of the lesser casinos in
between. He won, he claimed, some
510,000, When he returned to Boston, he
t he described as an
irrepressible joie de vivre and a still un
satisfied yearning to prove himself on
native ground.

Back
that he work at one of the more respec
ble brokerage houses in New York. It was
not the money, of course. His father had
long before arranged а trust so that he
would receive 100.000 on his 25th birth-
day, followed by similar amounts on his
30th, 35th and 40th birthdays. It was
sumed that he would inherit the remain-
der, "the r 7 on his father's death.
Until the trust commenced, Bo was to
ceive а large allowance. But on the co
tion that he find work. His father felt
that in Wall Street he would acquire а

business sense and suitable creden:
Credemials had been one of his father's
favorite words, by which he meant insur-
foreseen, the keys to
the scheme of things. In the early sprin
of 1950, armed with numerous leuers of
credit and introduction, Bo set out for
attan. Two weeks later, he accepted
ers man in a ге
ary of 5100 a week. He began
h reluctance and a certain dis

ance aj

uh
satisfaction, but it would not be for long,

job w

he reasoned. So long as he was li
to an allowance, he would conce
bright hopes im a graydlannel su
long as he was in tether, he would toe the

was the key. He could wait. It was only а
mauer of

to convey the intense quality оГ Bo's op-
timism. Then, as now, hope was his chief
happiness; it was absolute and. unassai
able. He was an optimist—the sort of man
Ambrose Bierce once described as a pro-
ponent of the doctrine that black is
white. But because hope lives in the fu-
ture and alwajs сете just a jump ahead
of him, it began to cast a little fog of
prehension on Bo's day-to-d:

Each day seemed to him a prison, but to-
morrow, at dawn, the pardon would
come: his hopes were high—as they nced-
ed to be, for Bo entered what he late
called the bottom of his life. He once сх-
plained to me that should he ever come to
write his autobiography, that portion of
his life would be eliminated for reasons of
dullness and а lack of panache. It had
been a compromise, he said, and would
not do.

For the first few yea
period, Bo behaved himself and seen
to have forgotten his dreams of br
knight-crrantry. Ac the ape of 95, he
imo the first p
whom he married shortly the
They lived in a large three-bed
apartment on Filth Avenue overlooking
the park and maintained a weekend
house in a fashionable part of Westches
ter County. Since joining the firm, he had
сеп rapidly promoted: "They think the
world of Bo.” his wife liked to say. Each

irning. he took the subway to work and
the subway back and the weekends were
spent in Ше country. In the second year
ol their marriage, his wile produced. a
daughter, and afterward, in the dark of
their apartment or sitting during the long
summer evenings on the porch of their
country home, she would assure him that
she was blissfully happy. And хо, it
seemed, was he. But sometimes, while rid-
„ that Little fog of appre-
hension would creep across his mind: he
this were all. if therc
would be no further nights of revelry, no
more extravagant gestures made. It
wasn't fun anymore and the daily subway
rides began to unnerve him—became the
visible symbol of his captivity. He hated

Wall Street
ed
sh

s of 1

me

of his trust and met the

after.

the subw

began to wonder i

ous air of sel
feel, as Nick the Gi

anteed
Tt
called.
а fou
ticula
unbre

job, hated its poi

. “А colleague

nbled for a few years

iless aims, its pomp-
pproval and he began to
ek had, that a guar-
а guaranteed. bore,
advertently," he rc-
at the olfice needed
th for a poker game. I had no par-

feelings about it. Pd made no
akable resolutions. I just hadn't
hat night. T

1 income was
began quite i

wanted to. How can I explain it to you?

T got
won t
it wa

home at three in the morning. I'd
hree hundred and fifty dollars. but
ігі the money. I didn't need the

money. No. it was the action, that sense of

excitement stretched toward a b

point

how dull
bly dull. I went to bed, but 1 couldn't

fe

sleep.

my mind
though I'd

now, looking back afte

no tel
ight
along

night

had.

the sudden burst of a horse in the str

He ha
кі.

into the open now

appe
contre

that

and all the next day I felt liule, al-
asmic jolts, not in my cock but in
Tt was a revelation. T felt as

ne. Even
18 years, Bo saw
lc clues or inauspicious signs that
indicate some ройи of no return
the way. Quite the reverse. That
revealed to him what he had always

s he saw it, denied the best

nied those high elated leaps of the soul
that rise

om the turn of a sin rd or

ad been
r

ng too long at second
ed in. and he wanted to come
he sa
ich D had less
sl. But, you see, I didn't м:

e over wl

trol. I wanted a kind of freedom, 1 sup-

pose,

sense of space. Gambling was just

WASH PAWS AFTER EATI

KEEP CAT BOK NEAT”
REMEMBER: YOUARE A
GUEST IN THIS HOUSE |

something to do, like getting
liked it. [still do. lı relieves the p:

During those first y
have been more satisfied, just
that he had made a sensible decision.
he won—consistently. He absented h
self from the oflce more and more. On
his way home from the tack or the gam-
ing parlor, he usually bought his wile
some slight expe uble and she
would scold him lor his extravagance
with unconcealed affection. This was
best period. Curiously, he sensed that his
success had little to do with any real gam
bling talent; more often than not, he saw
that chance had intervened on his behalf.
Even so, he had also come to believe that
some eccentric le ruled his wild a
cent—as though magic were merely logic
mispronounced

It could not last, of course, and slowly

ars, Bo could not
fied, even,
And

that mysterious flair of his began to di
pear. By 1961, his life had beco

continuous gamble. What had beg
occasional poker became thricew
sesions. He began to lose. He beg:
bet on every ds, backgammon
and craps, the horses and the trotters, the
football, baseball amd basketball games,
even politics. Suddenly, at the age of 34
he found he had gone through most of his
available funds. No one knew—not ev
his wife—credit camouflaged that, but it
became apparent that unless he siopped,
that unless, as he liked to think, his mon-
suus luck quit dogging him, he would
soon come to the end of the line. Oue
night, in a private high-stakes pok
game, he could not cover his losses with
ready cash and he put upas collateral the
deed to his Filth Avenue apartment. By

203

PLAYBOY

204

Brut for Men.

If you have
any doubts
about yourself,

try
something else.

After shove, after shower, ofter anything.
Brut by Fobergé.

four in the morning, when the game
ended, he returned t0 an apartment that
was no longer his. The new owner gave
him Une months’ grace in which to move
his chauels out. Bo told his wile that
he was bored, that he requi
that they should move to
ppiopr ddress: and besides, he
explained, Filth Avenue wasn’t what
it used to be. Surprisingly, Bo recilled,
she agreed, but with a kind of abject
resignation.

‘They moved t0 à more appropriate ad-
dres—a small brownstone somewhat 100
ar сам in the upper 60s
backs," said Bo. “it wasit bad for a time,
wasn't bad at all.” Although minor ad-
justments were made and occasional con-
cessions given. their lives continued in
much the same old way—became better,
in fact, since Bo had now embarked on an
Indian summer of good fortune. But even
irresponsibility develops its own logic

ed a ch

some

mor

ite

jiven my set-

and with а kind of evil, irreversible re-
gression, Bo saw his successes slip away.
In 1968, he and his wife had a second

daughter, whom Bo. during à particularly
bad run at the track, called Hope. But
nothing came of i. That autumn. he
lost 510.000 on the world series and could
hot pay. Mixing semitruths with apology
and outright lies with mild tration,
he asked his futher for help. But even his
charm seemed to have deserted him. His
father was coll and polite and he refused.
“It was then” said Bo. "that I felt the
paranoia breaking out in boils all over
my body,”

Whatever Bo had lost, whatever his
real or imagined fes had taken from
ways scemed mc a cheerful,
uncomplaining man. During these long
nights in the Yorkville bar, he would re.
cite the grim account of his demise with a
kind of comic malice, as though it had
happened to some imprudent friend of his,
And yet the night he told me of those
last hysterie quests of his to overcome his
lowes. a kind of gothic monole

ensucd —
а bitter series of dashed hopes and d
reversals that an inexorable fare had
heaped upon him. Rejected by his futher
and treated more and more with cold sus-
picion by his wile, he cast about for more
menable solutions. Before the ye
ош, he was sacked by his employ
embezzling $15.000. For reasons ol pri
priety, they decided not to prosecute. ex-
tracing a fragile promise that he would
repay the debt one day. “1 was at my
wit's end,” he said. "I'd considered eve
thing—insurance sel n sharks, fi-
nance companies. bank loans, everythin:
In the end, 1 settled on what sec
lesser evil." He continued to gamble, but
winning had become a lost cause. He sold

was
ту Гог

stocks, obtained advances on his trust,
wrote postdated checks, borrowed from
the Shylocks, to whom, at one point in
h

decline, he owed 51000 a week in
чегем. alone. А borrowed sums from
five or six loan outfits,” he said. "I drove

them all crazy.” At the end, the schemes,
the advances, the loans, the returned
checks, all these separate instances of his
dementia acquired a general definition: a
sense of utter desolation, of having been
unjusily singled out for some demonic
retribut
Gambling had
nosis. What һай begun
overcome the odds had now become an
obsession to keep them at bay. And every-
thing was sacrificed to that. From time to
time in those black years, his wife had
threatened separation. but with tears and
j. she had been dissuaded.
1909. Bo re-
to find that she
and the ch had pone. "I think the
final straw." he said. “was the day I
pawned her engagement ring, 1 told |
Га only pawned it. that 1 hadn't actually
sold it, but she wasn’t listening t0 much
sense at the time. 1 used to dream of the
things l'd buy her with my winnings. And
do you know. she thought / was selfish?
g T wouldn't have done

become а sort of. hyp-

s a desire to.

endless promises
But just belore Christmas
tur

There was noth
Bo paused, as though thinkin;
of futher favors he might have per
formed. “No, she was the selfish one.” he
said. 1 time,
you know." Les than two weeks later. Bo
received a eter from his father filled
With phrases such as "most distressed
rrantable behavior" . .

-< “no alternative
that Bo was stricken from I

for her.”

BT

a son of minc"
in short
father's will

And so, ar the pivotal age of 40. Bo
stood well outside the periphery of his
s. He felt cheated, as though the dia
ime he'd played had some

lectic of ihe ;

how been impure—talsified, But he was
not an optimist for nothing: and he
began to search for some new Euclidean

principle that would direct the straight
line of his hope along the shortest dis
tance between loss and g

Bo’s present home was in one of those
int and shabby Upper East Side
in New York, at least, arc fish
here thin d
tree kept upright by sticks and wires: on
either side, the drab brownstones with
steep steps rising to the door. In one of
these, an old Fran ran a boardinghousc,
though in keeping with the n
hood. they Hed self contained
apartments. On one of the landings, a
coin-operated telephone was bolted to the
wall: the stair wells were dark and nar-
row. For nearly two years, Bo had occu-
pied the largest of these apartments at the
тор of the house—a single room with one
hi the street. H

and there, Ше

ighbor-

were

gh window overlooks

side: a bed in the corner disguised as
divim, an annehair or two. small wood
cn tables, a thick wardrobe, a chillo-

пісте undistinguished brica-brac of
furnished rooms. But dotted round the
room were remnants of Bo's past—silver-
iplis of Bo as a dapper

framed photog

young man, Bo at Princeton, Bo and his
smiling wife in some such place
ritz, his children. In the corne
al walking sticks, a silver trophy was on
table next to the bed
lay an old silver brush and tortoiseshell
comb. There was an antiquated a
the pl 1 I always felt as though I
had entered a rather cheap museum.

Во was now nearly 44 and he liked to
think that life had made a realist of him.
Increasing Damon Runyon's odds, he be-
ieved that all Ше was eight to five
against, that this was inevitable, the way
of the world. Banned from his heaven, Bo
began to praise his hell. 1 once asked him
if he regretted the waste of all thar had
gone before, "A waste?" he said. "How
can you call it a waste? I've corn
more excitement into twenty mi
than most men have in twenty years.
‘A friend of mine,” he continued,
is now involved in Gamblers Anonymous,
going | mean, he
d of sick loony. Do

ce ai

who

tried to talk me

thought I was some k
1 look sick? Gambling gives me а sense of
camaraderie, that's all. I suppose it re-
minds me of my days at Princeton. But
that’s not At one time, I'll admit, 1
thought of suicide, just after my wile
walked out, but I won on the Jets that
Sunday and forgot all about it

Bo talked obsessively about the one
game, the one hand, he felt had. cc
quered him,

that si
мо two quite separate en

tities. He was very unlucky 10 have lost
that night, he said, with $15,000 in the
pot. “Had that not happened,” he mused,
psent-mindedly caressing the silver tro-
phy, “had the next card been the thre
of diamonds. .

"I remember 1 the room hur-
пісу. I was brol nd had to quit. I
rushed outside and got violently sick,

vomiting everywhere. Sudd
the хо I saw а filty-dollar bill. 1 si
it quite clearly and grabbed at it. But it
was only an old piece of newspaper and
I was sick all over again." It was only
after that. he claimed, that he began
pressing—drawing two cards to

aly. there in

w

dences, bluffing and almost never foldi
Alter that, he dropped from sight, saw
none of his former friends and took a se-
s of menial jobs, of which bartending
was the best, since the pay was
it gave him company. And he continued
to gamble, convinced that sooner or later,
his break would come.

Nick the Greek once said that the ma-
jority of people share a common goal and
а common failing: "They believe that
money is something far more than a handy

x" Bo would
agreed with that. though for quite a di
ferent reason. "It used 10 be," he said,
“that if E were winning, I'd play to win

devi have

scorekecping

more, and if I were losing, I'd play to get
even, But I don't think about the money
anymore. I made that mistake last time.
The play's the thing, the play. You know?
Hell, 1 read the license plates ahead of me
in traffic jams, figuring just how good a
hilo hand they'll make. I really love to
play.” He looked at me and sat down, a
faint smile of suspicion on his face. “You
think that’s unusual, don't you? С

on, everybody gambles. Look around you.
Look at the business world. There are a
lot of Monopoly games going

disturbed his concent But
night he relented, and alter
we went 10 a sl
Side. Bo nodded to the desk clerk; we
walked upstairs and down a hall to
а small overheated room that reeked of
sweat and stale cigarettes. The door
locked behind us. Inside, there were five
an oval table—seedy, unshaven
men of indeterminate age. One of them,
huge Puerto Rican with a gold front
woth. wore little more than his trousers
and a pair of suspenders hitched across
his naked shoulders. They were all drink-
cheap whiskey. The men nodded and
out of place in hi
stripe suit, like a character who had w
dered into the wrong play. But he seemed
perfectly at home—the silence, broken
only by a radio. by coughs and grull in-
structions to raise, to pass or fold, the
smoke. the sweat, the sense of ugly iso
lation, were instances of п айоо.
hospitable geography now. Theodor Reik
observed that g
question addressed to destiny.
scemed to me that Bo had bent his head
in such a way as to have heard an answe
For he was in his element now and he
played with the intensity of a man who
sensed that cach new dawn, cach new
tur ented а pi
1 memory
hope. like some old
rk, would guide him

one
his shift,
iby hotel on the West

as

players at

Bo sat down-

of the саға, се

where pain was neutralized
where

dulled.
familiar
ho!

са

It was dawn. (It is always dawn оп
these occasions) Bo had played through
out the night and, collecting his win
nings, about 5100, we left. We parted at
the comer. He was drunk: he scemed a
tated and very tired. as if he had just
come down off Methedrine. The streets
were empty but for a passing milkim
and two or three black hookers loiteri
in a door at the corner. Bo be
Và thick dissonant voice, Adjusting the
his [ 1 running
fingers through his thinning hair, he
toward the corner. I
never saw him again. I don't know where
he was going. nor I think did he, but slid-
ing out from the door, one of the hookers
wok Bo by the arm and helped him

on his way.

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205

PLAYBOY

206

WRITER AS POLITICAL CRAZY

Nazi rhetoric about "blood and soil," is
olen lunny in is unqualified prete
tiousness. Lawrence once wrotc in

letter:

Ша lizard falls on the breast of a
pregnant women, then the blood-
being of the lizard pases with a

shock imo the blood-being of the
woman and is transferred to the 1
tus proba tervention
either of nerv | consciow
ness. And this is rhe origin of totem:

and for this reason some tribes no
doubt really were kangaroos.

T. S. Eliot was not as obviously far out
as Lawrence, Pound, Céline (who be-
came Pétain's personal physi

the Vichy period) and other great pr
ences in the 20th Century revolution of
sm. Unlike Céline, who always
d a buzzing in his head from wounds
curred in 1914 but wrote the most
agely powerful French prose of our time
in his great novel Journey to the End of
the Night, Eliot was an almost preposter-
ously proper type. He was a deeply re-
pressed. man who wrote his great carly
poem, The Love Song of 1.
frock, directly
deprivation

Аца Pru-

phrenic delusion.

Eliot was so ravaged and broken down.
by the mental illness of his first wife that
in his most famous poem, The Waste
Land, he identified his personal desola-
tion with the disintegration of Europe.
But as he said when paying tribute to
Pound's inspired cutting and sharpening
of the poem (Pound also raised a fund to

d Eliot to recuperate in Switzerland),
The Waste Land should not have been
taken, so much as it was, lor a picture of

ation in trouble. It was Tom Eliot
int

Still, like so m
«йыз of the

зу great poets and nov-
suspenseladen Twenties
emed to be hanging in the
and indeed it soon tell), Eliot
fancy himself something of a pundit
about society, tradition, culture. He once
de a ridiculous specch to the Con
tive Assoc

son the subject of politics.
But in ЖАЛЫНЫ he [кеце шо VIP

ag
England. Alas, he ped such a make-
ve. literary theorist. of society thai
a time when everybody in England knew
ng had to be done about the
jonstrously inadequate educational sys-
и publicly opposed raising the
school leaving age Irom 14 to 15. He ad-
vocated inequality of education on the
ounds that it was nonsense to believe
hat a great deal of first-class ability
is being wasted.” A few years later,

(continued from page 136)

the classic Robbins report on higher edu-
cation in England proved that “most of
the intelligence of the nation was in fact
being wasted.”

William Butier Yeats, surely the grea
est poet in English of the 20th Century
developed as a poet so ama
late ely sharper,
nd sensi 1h
romantic poems. But the fierceness of his
nd led him to develop a foolish
contempt for what he assumed to be thc
elfeteness of modes He saw the
present as a mere trans more leg

ion ic

endary, traditionalist future. He was in-
faruated with Mussolini's Fascism, which
he hilariously called individualist. He

supported the Irish Fascist Blue Shirts,
led by General Duffy. Yeats wrote, with
misplaced confidence in his own words:

Politics are growing heroic. De Va-
lera has forced political thought to
face the most fundamental issues. A
Fascist opposition is forming behind
to be ready should some
tion develop. I find myself
constantly urging the despotic rule of
the educated classes, . . . 1 know half
а dozen men, any one of whom may
be Cacsar—or Catiline. Tt i
to live in a country where
always act. Where nobody is sa

stocking that we
ment to turn it
can we not feel emulous when we sce
Hitler juggling with his sausage of
stock :
shot is raising everybody's spirits
enormously.

In а sense, we have all been political
nuts since the world-wide Depression of

the ‘Thirties; this led straight to the
still-incredible destructiveness of 1939-
d the revolutions, wars, civil

s insurrections that have fob

War Two. This war

us alb “very tough." as

says in Slaughterhouse

Five. But the tougher we get, the more we

seems to
хісіу. Yet
lor all this unrelenting pressure of politi-
cal issues on every man, woman and c
just now (especially in an age whe
ass communications single out
y act of violence, every
rape and shootout as a political protest),
our faith in our own political ideas and
nostrums, in the use of reason and in the
exercie of right language, has corre-
spondingly declined.

‚ the writer as
political nut is such a spectacle. Words-
h and Shelley, Tolstoy and Dostoi
Emerson and ‘Thoreau
perlect n the power of literature
over the minds, souls, lives of everyone.

Today even the best of writers cannot
help doubting the rightness and rele-
ance of literature to the whole human
predicament. This decline of confidence
comes at à time when any writer with
i tion is likely to fecl increasingly
aged by the political nuts everywhere
who shape lives and send children to use
less wars: who order the Cuban TV
cover the execution of political prisoners:
who allot billions every year to pay lor
past wars, present wars, future wars: who
unleash the killings in Northern Ireland.
the killings in Colombia, the killings i
America; who perpetuate the militarism
of senile Southern politicians, the epi
demic of drug taking on the part of the
young, the fanaticism of political deba
the overbearingness of pol
poisoning of personal relationships i
what French novelist Nathalie Sarraute
calls "the age of suspicion.”

Although I have never had an origi
political idea in my life, I, too, am a politi
1 nut. For without being able to do anv-
thing about it, I have been maddened
by the slaughter of so many іппосен
people, the unspeal ruchy in the
very streets of American cities, the insane
scl-righteousness of people who excuse
their blood Lust as political virtue. Lite
ture has been life itself to me, certainly
the most er of life, Yet aware of
myself as а wi rly concerned
with the mind: Таш even
more aware that the news, the alarms, the
disturbances that fill our lives all day
and every day have not brought the
most
spond

nd bel

TE

to

ai.

ла Pounds 6
ness. For he was not used to I
anything he said or believed on any sub-
ject dismissed icant. Like D. H.
Lawrence and so many other famous
writers with a notable faith in all their
own pronouncements, Pound
spoiled child and sounded off for 70 ye
with the selLassurance of one. Freud said
that the favorite of the mother is always a
iqueror." Pound was the favorite of
both his parents, was peculiarly close to
them (and. had them around in
heathe ingly іше

was a

ly listene ly from babyhood.
In his bı , he sounded off about
the “spirit of 76," which he thought his
family represented —à. grandfather. had
been a Congressman. It is important to
note about this political пш that he was
able to sustain good relationships with
wife and mistress openly. He was а won-
Чеш friend. and always so
people he ed that the poct Louis
Zukolsky

nd other Jews have defended
1 inst the charge of being person-
ally am ‚ On the other hand.
a fact that when this spoiled child. felt

өгей, not made enough of for any re:
son, he turned petulant—this seems to
ave happened in England, and һе came
to hate the English just as publicly as
he excoriated those financiers and other
superpowerful bogeymen he called kik
own opinions
most seriously. He could be humble and
contrite, as befits a man of 60 held
er in a steel cage who discovered а
war that he had been extolling leaders
who had put 1,000,000 Jewish children to
ath. But his ess stemmed
Irom his poet's sense of personal author
y. One of the wonders of human creativ-
y is the surencss with which poets come
to trust their wayward moods, the electri
instinct with which they can put unre-
nd opposing things into exciting
ion. The poet's gift is one of the
ble forms of mental organi-
zation known to nature. It involves the
ability to bring together different levels
of beii ite into sound items drawn
from both our deepest unconscious and
our closest thinking. Yet even among
modern poets, famous for emphasizing the
alities of the spoken voice,
ble for turning the most
amazing pile of ideas and reminiscences
into beautiful sound.

His most ambitious and most famous
poem, the 81 Cantos, is in many respects it
weird junk shop and flea market of his
andom experiences (and favorite quota-
tions). Yeats called the Cantos "nervous
obsession, nightmare, stammering confu-
sion." It is studded, in no discernible
order, with Chinese ideograms and quota-

tions from the Greek, Provi
it is full of histor

ight lifted bod
of John Adams
ries of John Quincy Adams,
and I mean lifted; not stolen. It is by
turns also catty and tremulously "beyooti-
ful” in a romantic style not seen since
Pound was in high school, and it is char-
acteristic of his mind that he тер
stories about mandarin figures in the
he knew for over half a century without
his noticing the repetitions.

Reading, the Cantos is a kind of exer-
cise in magic; You wait lor the great man
10 deliver a rabbit out of so much drivel
nd, by God, sometimes he docs! There

re many stunning passages, much pré-
tense and. above all. a lot of the static
buzzing in Pound's curious mind. F

Pound is a maker of pastiches, clever
ions and impersonations of how
and all poets have sounded through the
the Cantos is really an

toga irunk stuffed with personal
ilia, fantastic reading, conscious
and unconscious quotations, gossip, ha-
wed and spite, it is, in the end, a work in
honor of poetry as Pound's real life, his
best life. Asa poet, Pound was able to rise
above the debris of his life, above the
junk pile of his miscellaneous and some
times phony learning. By his gilt for
making poetry sound, by sheer hypnotic

| PHARMACEUTICALS

“A package of condominiums, please.”

incantation, he did make his unbelievable
contraption move.

George Orwell was probably right
when he called Pound a faker. Pound al-
ways pretended to more languages than
he had, and certainly to more knowledge
of history and economics. But Orwell was
nor a poet. His wonderful commonse
«al mind made him the long needed
scourge of upper-class English leftists who
cheerfully thought Marsist dictatorship
good cnough for the common people. But
Orwell was incapable of understanding
the peculiarly intuitive accomplishment
at work in wizard poets like Pound—
which is a form of genuine divination, of
occult knowledge. As Rilke said, “Poetry
is the past that breaks out in our hearts.”

Pound had this gift. And, like many
poets, he had it to a degree that unbal
anced him. Poets are different from
prose writers: They are more the victims
of words for words’ sake; but they also
have an inborn sense of what lies bur
ied in words—the human traditions and
human practices that have been con
gealed into the rhythm, force and color of
words alone. Poets have a right to speak
for that realm within our own minds ıl
feels like another world. This other world
lies in the undecipherable network of our
unconscious thought, where we are under
the spell of words and the combination
of words without knowing what they
“mean.” Poets like Pound have this secret
ng in their heads to such an extent
that they are oft ly cracked. They
sec life through this crack and often they
become this crack.

ion of

The mad poets are legion, a le
the damned. Since the 18th Century and
the beginning of modern, romantic po-
etry, we have had such certified madmen
nd lunatic cases as Christopher Smart,
Jolin Clare, Dr. Johnson, William Cow
per. William Blake, Friedrich Hölderlin,
Paul Verlaine—and, in our day, the Ger

Nobel Prize winner Nelly Sachs,
Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton, Delmore
Schwartz. And there are the suicide pocts
rard de Nerval, Hart Crane, Sylv
Plath, Randall Jarrell, Jolin Berryman,

Pound's good friend Ernest Heming
way said of him when he was on trial [or
treason, "Pound's crazy. All poets are.
They have to be. You don't put a poct
like Pound in the loony bin. For his
sake, we shouldn't keep him there.
from Pound's own point of view, this cra-
ziness may have been the positive in his
life, the force behind his unquenchable
mental energy, his gilt for whipping
up other minds into an intellectu:
citement like his own. Pound was an
unstoppable talker, mover, prodder: his
tellectual energy, his poet's sense that
whatever he said was authoritative. be-
cause a poet said it made him think of
language as the divine gift embos
him. He was a creature of word
witched by words, haunted by his own
power to summon up the myths of human
history from the amazing deep that is а
poer's mind.

Pound was, from ccstatic youth on, the
pocUs poct, a man driven mad with ex
citement by his own gift, by poetry every
where in the air of his life. He had a sure

man

207

PLAYBOY

208

istinct for what was first-rate. It is a mat-
ter of record that he was also the most
generous of critics to now-famous poets
when they still needed a hearing. But the
workbwide Depresion of Ше Thirties
brought out all his family's obsession
with finance as an Eastern. monopoly
(his father, Homer Pound. once actually
primed his own scrip to pay off his
employees). Pound. became obsessive on
the subject of “usury.
own savso that the banks and
ational financiers,
thrall by fe
pital
By rapid stages Pound became a bel
in Major Douglas’ Social Credit, then
in Mussolini’s theory that the Fascist state
could be made up of "corporations" from
the different classes that would work to-
gether in the interest of the state, then in
the Nazi claims that rich Jews alone held
the purse swings in Europe and. by
squeezing oll credit, were responsible for
the Depression.

Pound read a lot in history, but only to
find things suitable to his growing |
noia that “they” were after the тем of
“us” and to bis megalomania that a few
great men iu hi ke himself, Con-
lucius and John knew all the
wwers Have vou ever seen margi

banks

held
cing them to
at high inte

alone,
everyone

els

borrow all

al comments iu library books—"F
Hasn't he read Blankety Blank,
832" Pound's economic pamphlets аге

Tike that,

What is most disturbing about Pound
the political nu (аз opposed to Pound
the poet) is how cheap. nasty, downri,
stupid his style becomes in polen
ready clear in the excerpts fr
broadcasis during the war. It
s in many cantos, In the original
п ol canto 52, for example, Pound
propounded the lie that the poor Jews of
Europe. just then being slaughtered by

1

Hitler. were ng for rhe “guik”
(Schuld in German) of the Rothschilds
(the ius red shield in German),

whom Pound typically called the Stink-
schulds. These names were replaced. by
blanks in thc complete edition. of the
Cantos. But it is ty
mania on il

ab of rightw

s this dangerous Falsehood
his recent book, The Pound Eva, when
he says that “Hitler jailed no Rothschilds,
and Pound thought that the poor Jews
whom German resentment into
concentration camps. were suffering. fe
the sins ol their inaccessible corel
ists.” Kenner quotes these beau
from ca

drove

Stinkschuld sin drawing vengeance,
poor yilts paying for Stinkschuld,

paying for а Jew big jews’ vendetta
on goyim.

Kenner does not know how many
“Rothschilds” died in Nazi camps. Still,
right wing i not the

greatest danger to the republic just now.
The most obvious political nuts among
writers are on the lelt, whether New Left,
Bomber Left or Would-Be Left. Norman
Mailer, in а famous essay, “The White
Серго,” on the necessity of white middle
s writers like himself becoming "psy

the conformism poisoning American lie,
wrote that as opposed to the arcisquar
and obedient goody-goody male who
conform to what he loathes because һе
er has the passion to feel loathing
so intensely,” two strong 18-year-old hood-
lums beating in the bra dy

keeper do have cou

s of a c
age of a sort:

ste

for опе murders not only а weak 50-

y n institut

well. one violates private property,
enters

cold man but

эп as

to new relations with
danger-
© The

one

the police and introduces а
ous element imo oue
hoodlum is therelore daring the un-
known, and so no matter how brutal
the act, it is not altogether cowardly.

1 once heard Mailer lament to a private
discussion group that literature is "con-
servative.” He is an always exciting writer
who for years has also been playing every
possible role in and out of his work be-
cause his desire for himself is. above all
doer, risk taker, adventurer not
coment with mere writing. But, of course,
writing is Mailers life and his only real
consistency. A good deal of his posturing
consists in sticking his head over the
trench, yelling Fuck you, squares! and
then comentedly getting buck to his

to be

wd hated Jews because he had a
child's version of history: Everythin
just lovely in his Golden West until those
corrupters from the East came in. Mailer
isa Jew with a typical modern dislike of
being a “good Jew." As he has often said,
being а Nice Jewish Boy is the one role
unacceptable to him. He, too, is a spoiled
child, with a partiality to his own family
. like Pound. to take өй

was

that permits d

on the world a whenever he likes.
Right-wing nuts are distinguished by
their feeling lor tradition, continuity and

the paranoiac delusion that some evil per-
son or force is trying to break up some-
thing that was never questioned belor
Left-wing nuts are distinguished by the
delusion that ty pric
bolic activism if necessary, will redeem
man (whether he likes it or not) Irom the
suffering inflicted on him in the past and
present. Mailer is actually a very ca
writer. is by no me cu in by his own
yndir and is certainly no “poct” in
cked and suicidal tradition. But he
docs have the itch ro get things moving,
and he is so much one Jewish mother’s f;

vorite that he does have the delusion that
М he says a the in-
famy of birth control (and the necessity
of abortions), the city of New York, high-

activism at

, syn

tments, the nature of movi
Marilyn Monroe, Nixon, McGovern, the
moon shots, the short-sleeved WASP tech-
nicians in the Houston space center, etc,
is rue and important and vital because
he feels these md people must
look up to hear him say these things. And
ng is for Mailer a Iorm of doing. He is
essentially a novelist, of course. For some
years now, he has been living his novels
rather than writing the у
tellectaal Jews, he is also a moralist, hi:
inst the mythically pe
hited future that something
ing us t

ery type of the abso-
ıl who condemns masses. of
people to death in the name of revol
tion as the "final solution" 10 all human
problems. actually described himself as a
“pure and sensitive soul.” His deepest be-
lief was that the French Revolution could
have been made only by pure and sensi

псе

Jurist ra

tive souls, That passion exists, he o
said in а speech to his followers, "that
subli E humanity,
without which a great revolution is but a
manifes aime that destroys another
crime: it exists, that generous ambition to
found on this earth the first republic of
the world. . . . You feel it burning at this
very moment. in. your souls; 1 feel it in
my own.

and red love

1 with one's own virtue and
jon is the great mark of high-
principled radicals. But no one has ever
burned quite so fiercely -out radi-

as fi

of course. that The Realist published the
report that on the plane taking Lyndon
Johnson and John Kennedy’s body back
to Wasl ter the assassination in
Dallas, Johnson mounted the corpse and
reached sexual climax in the throat
wound of his predecessor. It was in the
name of the highest principles that James
1 ldressed Angela Davis in pris
on as "my sister in Dachau." Susan Sontag
said in Partisan Review: “The white race
is the cancer of history. It is the white
race and it alone—its ideologies and in-
veutions—which eridicates autonomous.
civilization wherever it spreads, which has
upset the ecological balance of the plan-
et, which now threatens the very exist-
се of life itsel

Sometimes it is not necessary to be a
talented writer, just a literary feller, to
contribute to what Benjamin DeMou
called “The Age of Overkill.” Louis
Sampf, recently president of the Modern
ge Association (the largest pro-
al organization of literature teach-
ers in the world), wrote in The Trouble
with Literature that “the study of liter-
ature the voyeurism implicit in this—
must really come to an end if all of us
are to be full participants in the making
of our culture.” Kampf wrote of Lincoln

с

Center in a collection of essays called The
New Left that "not a performance should
go by without disruption. The fountains
should be dried with calcium chloride,
the statuary pissed on, the walls smeared
with shit.”

Just now the most vociferous expressers
of outrage in this country are blacks, ho-
mosexuals and fem Ш uice groups
(though certainly not in equal propor-
tions) have good reason to complain of
disabilities against them, prejudice
nd malevolence at large. But no group
ever protests until it is organized as a
group, gets a growing sense of power and

the assurance that its grievances are sym-
pathized with by many forces in the con
munity. But if one protests as а write

with a writer's skill and a writer's sense of
his or her own
aggerates by dint of one’s own natura
nd profesional egotism. There is some-
thing peremptory, dogmatic. teacherlike
about any kind of literary gift. As Serge
Koussevitzky once said in his special
brand of Russian-English to a young con-
ductor who had lost contol of the orchcs-
tra: [s looking a tempo and kept it!

To write is to take a tempo, to lay
line, to set up an argument and to
keep it. Persuasion, indoctrination, influ-
sare what writing does. and that is why
writers wi the audience are
the last o
ich saying

As the Mailer synd shown, ж
ing can be an exercise of power, of ma-
chismo, of keeping all directives in your
g It can be a form of absolute
domination—especially over the truth,
over the writer's own contradictory fee
ings. Many women writers these days
are bursting out, understandably. Sylv
Plath, who is becoming a martyr symbol

to many feminist writers, was a gifted but
thoroughly morbid writer: indeed, a spe-
t in death, hypnotized by the Ха
Hing of millions. Violent against her-
self, she wrote in a famous poem, Duddy,
that her German-born father, ап inno-
cent professor of biology in Boston who

curred her wrath by dying when she
was very young, was a "Nazi" and a
bastard.”

‘These lines were idiotic, shameful. But
s funny as well as sad to find an equal-
y talented woman poet, Adrienne Rich,
say in a recent book review: "1 believe
that the poem Daddy is more than Plath's
exorcism of her own father jt is an
attempt to exorcise the patriarchy in-
ternalized in every woman—the same
patriarchy that committed Dachau and
Hiroshima."

ime. Rage is cpi-
demic, especially when it is would-be
age. Without strong feelings. man, you

may be just
us all revolutie
same time? А t

nother square! Rage n
tries. And artists at the
ented black poet, who

knows. of course, that Malcolm X was
murdered by blacks, turns on his own
people in a poem called The Nigga
Section and writes with mounting fury:

slimy obscene creatures. insane
creations of à beast. you

have murdered а man. you
have devoured me. you

have done it with precision
like the way you stand green

in the dark sucking pus
and slicing your penis

As they lurch toward the end of the
20th Century, writers have good reason to
worry whether literature will survive. But
meanwhile, rage as literature is a going
game. “Things are in the saddle and ride
mankind,” a great American writer wrote
in the last century, “the century of hope.”
Things ride us more and more, and we
are right to feel much of what we feel. But
feeling can be a liar, a pretense, a piece of
opportu Та our time, just now, our
supposed innocence as private human
beings combines all too nicely with our
political fury at what is happening to
mankind. Rage makes up a lively substi-
ише for the balance and modesty and.
bove all, the personal honesty tl
alone get us to do what we seem least
pable of just now—to live with one
another.

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209

210

PLAYBOY POTPOURRI

people, places, objects and events of interest or amusement

GETTIN' HIGH ON BLUEGRASS
Load up the camper and spend the summer touring th
new bluegrass festivals. First, the Old Time Mountain, Country
Cajun, Blues and Bluegrass Folk Music Festival
Pennsylvania, June 29-July 4. Next, the West V
Mount untry Bluegrass Folk Music Festiv
West Virginia, July 26-29. And, finally, there's bluegrass
border, at the Ontario Blu Festival in Burling
Ontario, August 3-5. For talent: Earl Serug
Brothers and Doc Watson, among others. For mor
Folklore Society, Box 186, Fairfax, Virginia. Them's good pic

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and after one look at your room, brother,

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your very own closed-circuit TV dirty
ight in the room, Rates are from $20 to
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Take that, you Holiday Inns.

FOR THAT LITTLE OLD WINE DRINKER—YOU
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great and small. Once you've
become a grape nut, of course
you'll want to name-drop by
putting up large poster
lithographs of some of the
greatest wine labels of
this century—Lafite '45,
Latour "29, Mouton "52,
among others—that are being
marketed by the BDG

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Riddle: What measures 125mmx125mmx
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such immortal bottles as
Mouton-Rothschild 1893, at
$6. Sommelier, make it

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more for the wall.

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it over in their hands while the litde
balls rearrange themselves in distinctive
nd hang suspended by
electrostatic forces. Perfect for that

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It's the ultimate kinetic sculpture—an
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from one to 120 words per minute, says its
creator, Milwaukee artist Raymond
Weisling, who heads Polymedia Electron
Arts, Р. О. Box 5621. The price is $195
postpaid. Darn dear, that cost.

CRUMBS ON THE WATER
‘That mad master of the underground
comic, R. Crumb, is still truck
А cookbook titled Eat /1—with recipes

is wife, Dana, and Shery
just been published and,
t's chock-full of illustrations
by the inimitable Crumb himself.

At 51.95 from hipper bookstores, Eat
It is already selling like hot cakes.
Also, be advised (or warned) that he's
just put out the first 78.rpm record

in 20 years. It features R. Crumb and
His Keep-on-Truckin' Orchestra
(Crumb's on vocals, banjuke and
piano) and is available for two
dollars from the Krupp Comic Works,
P. O. Box 5699, Milwaukee,
Wisconsin. Heavy Crumb.

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By some quirk of fate, the
Volkswagen Beetle may be destined
to be the most customized car
of themall. The latest development
in this fad is à fiberglass hood
cover in the form of a Devil's face.
Created by a New Mexico outfit,
Universal Plastics, in Rio Rancho
Estates. the 595 cover bolts onto
your machine's hood and the horns
swivel so as not to obstruct the
driver's view. And, best of all,
if a cop stops you for speeding
while you're Beclzebubing
about, what better excuse could
you have than "Тһе Devil
made me do it"?

AND NOW,
DIRECT FROM
FREEBISH'S CHAPEL....

Would you believe a $200
talking wedding album that
preserves for posterity
nervous lite voices jabbering
out those fateful “I do's”? Yes,
somebody in Brooklyn named
Bernie Pollack is marketing the
first Sight and Sound Wedding
Album that includes voice-over
narration by a professional
announcer who describes in
glowing detail the pageantry
that’s unfolding right before
your dewy eyes. The heart of the
album is a Japanese cassette
player and there's space for

44 pictures. Well, if you won't.
buy all that, would you settle
for a couple of 8x10 glossies?

JAZZ, JIMMY AND THE GENIUS

"Thanks to his many recording
andon film, the Ray
though,

and Times of Ray Charles for the Newport Jazz Festi

‚ plus extensive media coverage in print
rles story is pretty well known. This year,
cquires a new dimension, as James Baldwin is writing The Life
(June 29-July 8,

in New York City). Baldwin will narrate his own opus, with music by

К.С. himsel{—obviously, not a new version of Blues for Mister Charlie.

PLAYBOY

212

YEAR

(continued from page 152)

rıaysoy Editor and Publisher—who also
was to present her with a $5000 cash prize
from rraywoy. Marilyn's largess by no
ns ends there. Her bounty include:
S6000 fourscater P Pink
Volvo 1800 ES sports car, powered by а
fuel injected ВЗОЕ engine.

in Mexico for two, under the
spices of the Mexican Government
Tourism Department, arranged. through
the courtesy of Wilbert Sanchez of its
Miami office. Features include transporta
tion via Me rlines and accommo-
dations at El P te hotel in Mexico
City and the Villa Vera hotel in Acapulco

A 1073 Sch Super Sport
temspeed racing bicyele, with complete
accessories, in Playmate Pink.

А six-piece ser of hand-tailored,
matched luggage: caftan and maxi-apron
in Near East design; and Spectrum sculp-
tured clock that changes colors with the
time, all from Касон

А Sperti sun 1
Elecrric

Bushnell Model 12-9114 Banner Zoom
deluxe binoculars from Bushnell Opti
d Bellissima wig wardrobe

dies"

mp from Cooper-Hewitt

t, cover
yboy Sports Products
s 2000 fiberglass skis
Sold Medal Sports.

Momic Gla
iski boots from

ic ski poles, Bausch & Lomb s
goggles, all from Collins Ski

ses an
ducts.

A collection of Promark ski gloves by
Wells Lamont Corporation.

Designer ensembles in Playmate Pi
from noted couturiers Halston, John
hony and Adele Simpsoi
co Polo down-insulated sk
from Don Shingler.

А Jantzen swimsuit wardrobe.

A ruby-eyed. H-kt. gold Rabbit pin by
Maria Vogt

A collection of sunglasses from. Re-
nauld International.

A que nsom
Enterprises: Panasonic Crestview
FM sterco system with Ват
player: Panasonic pop-up telev
AM/FM radio: Royal portable elect
typewriter: sports and dress watches from
the Lady Seiko Boutique series: Konica
pocket 35mm
era kit with complete
& Drum Ensenada guitar; Diamine jew-
ету by OGI International; Lady Schick
Shaving Wand and Speed Styler with mist

1 gilts from Core
AM;

spray: amd а Franzus portable current
converter.

And, so that. Marilyn and her friends
may toast her successes present and

future, a case of crackling rosé from
Paul Masson and a case of Pol Roger
dry special champagne from Frederick
Wildman & Sons. Lid. Prosit?

Incidentally, how tall are you?”

FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE
(continued from page 146)

Tishkandi’s disappearance can have
been no loss to anyone; it was a dirty с
lection of huts with a pier, and beyond
it the ground climbed. slowly through
shy salt fats to 200 miles of arid.
empty desert. You could call it steppe, 1
suppose, but it's dry, rocky, hea
country, fit only for camels and lizards.

“Ust-Ust.” says one of the officers as he
looked at it, and the very name sent my
heart into my boots.

15 dangerous country, too. There was
а squadron of lancers waiting for us whe:
we landed, to guard us against the wil
desert tribes, for this was beyond the Ru:
siam. frontiers, nd where they were
still just probing at the savage folk who
chopped up the ans and raided
their outposts whenever they had the
chance. When we made camp at night, it
was your proper little laager, with sangars
at cach. corner, and sentries posted, and
half a dozen lancers out riding herd. АП
very businesslike and not what I'd ha
expected from Ruskis, really. But this was
their hard school, as 1 was to learn, 1
our North-West Frontier, where you
cither soldiered well or not at all.

Ez

“4

É

It was five days through the desert, not
100 uncomfortable while we were шоу
ing but freczing hellish at night, and the

dromedaris with their native drivers
must have covered the ground at a fair
pace, 10 miles a day or thereabouts. Once
or twice we saw horsemen in the distan
on the low rocky barkhans,
lor the first ime names like Kazak
Turka, but they kept a
Оп the last day, thoi
them, much close

and the Russians had them fairly well in
order on that side of the sea. When I saw
them near, 1 had a strange sense of recog.
nition—those swarthy faces, with here
and there a hooked nose and a straggling
moustache, the dirty puggarees swathed
round the heads and the open belted
robes took me back ro northern India
and the Afghan hills. Ics a strange thing
to come through hundreds of miles of wil-
dernes, from a foreign land and moving
in the wrong direction, and suddenly find
yourself snilling the air amd thinking,
"Home." If you're British and have sol-
«істей in India, you'll understand what 1
mean.

Late that afternoon, we came through
more salty flats to à long coast line of roll-
ers sweeping in from a sea so blue that 1
found myself muttering through my
beard, thalatta, the lormer
or the latter?" it seemed so much like the
ocean that old Arnold's Greeks had seen
after their great march. And suddenly I
could close my eyes and hear his voice
droning away on a summer afternoon at
Rugby, and smell the cut grass coming in

Thalassa. o

through the open windows, and hear the
fags at cricket outside, and from that I
found myself dreaming of the smell of
hay in the fields beyond Renfrew, and El
speth’s body warm and yielding, and the
birds calling at dusk along the river
the pony champing at the
was such a sweet, torturing longing that 1
groaned aloud, and when I opened my
eyes the tears came, and there was a hid
cous Russian voice

More! [Aral 5
sunlight, and the cl
and anklebones, and foreign fa
all round.

There was a big mil
shore and a handy little s
рш us aboard the ste :
d I was so tuckered out by the
1 ojus slept where E lay
And in the morning there was a

faces

; camp on the

coast ahead, with a great new wooden
pier er flowing down be
тесе anks to the sea. As far as I

could see, the coast was covered with
tenis, and there w nd
half a doz transports, and
one great ıt anchor be:
tween the pier - river mouth
There were bugles sounding on the dis

tant shore, and swarms of people every-
where, among the tents, on the pier and
on the ships, and a great hum of noise in
the midst of which a military band was
playing a rousing march; this is the army
1 thought, or most of it; this is their
Afghan expeditio:

I asked опе of the Russian lors what
er might be and he said: “Syr
and then, pointing to a great
ed fort on the rising land
above the river, he added: "Fort Raim."t
And then one of the Cossacks pushed him
g and told me to hold

inded us in lighters, and there
was a delegation of smart uniforms to
gr ad an orderly holding a
horse for him, and all round tremendous
bustle of unloading and ferrying from the
ships, and gangs of Orientals at work,
with Russian noncoms bawling at them
and swinging whips, and gear being
stowed in the newly built wooden sheds
along the shore. 1 watched gun limbers
being swung down by a derrick and
cursing, halE-naked gangs hauling them
away.

Ignatieff came trotting down to where
[was sitting between my С nd at
а word they hauled me up and we set olt
at his beels through the confusion, up the
long, gradual slope to the fort. It was
ther off than I'd expected, about а mil
so that it stood well back [rom the camp.
which was all spread out like a sand table

n

ort Raim was built on the Syr Daria
(Jaxartes) in 1817. The Russian policy of
expansion followed the fort's establish-
ment and their armed expeditions east-
wards began in 1852,

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PLAYBOY

214 Dari

down the shore line. As we neared the
fort he stopped. and his orderly was
pointing at the distant picket lines and
lentilying the various regiments—New
Russian Dragoons, Rumiantzoff's Grena-
diers, Astrakhan Carabiniers and Aral
Hussars, I remember. Ignatieff saw me
surveying the camp and came over. He
hadn't spoken to me since we left Arabat.

“You may look,” says he in that chill-
ing murmur of his, "and reflect on what
you see. The next Englishman to catch
sight of them will be your sentry on the
walls of Peshawar. And while you are ob-
serving, look yonder also and sce the fate
of all who oppose the majesty of the tsar.

1 looked where he pointed, up the hill
towards the fort, and my stomach turned
over. To one side of the gateway was a se-
ries of wooden gallows and from each one
hung a human figure—although some of
them were hard to recognize as human. A
few hung by their arms, some by their
ankles, one or two lucky ones by their
necks. Some were wasted and blackened
by exposure: at least one was still alive
nd stirring feebly. An awful carrion reek
drifted down on the clear spring air.

"Untcachables," says Ignatiefl. "Dan-
dit scum and rebels of the Syr Daria who
have been unreceptive to our sacred Rus-
sian impe
have lined thei:
these examples, they will learn. It is the
only way to impress recalcitrants. Do you
not agree?”

He wheeled his horse and we trailed up
ter him towards the fort. It was bigger,
far bigger, than I'd expected, a good 200
yards square, with timber ramparts 20
feet high, and at one end they were al-
ready replacing the timber with rough
stone. The Russian eagle ensign was flut-
tering over the roofed gatehouse, there
were grenadiers drawn up and saluting as
Ignatieff cantered through, and 1 trudged
іп, danking, to find myself on a vast pa-
rade, with good wooden barracks round
the walls, woops drilling in the dusky
square and a row of two-storey adminis-
ive buildings down one side. It was a
very proper fort, something like those of
the American frontier in the Seventies:
there were even some small cottages
which I guessed were officers’ quart

Ignatieff was getting his usual welcome
from a tubby chap who appeared to be
the commandant; 1 wasn't interested in
id, but I gathered the com-
ant was greatly excited and was bab-
ew
Not both of them?" I heard Ignatieff
and the other clapped his hands in
great glee and said, yes, both, a fine treat
for General Perovski and General Kinu
leff when they arrived.

“They will make a pretty pair of gal-
lows, then,” says Ignatieff. "You are to be
congratulated, sir. Nothing could be a
1 en for our march through Syr

sa

etter oi

"Ah, ha, excellent!” cries the tubby
chap, rubbing his hands. “And that will
not be long, eh? All is in train here, as
you sce, and the equipment arrives daily.
But come, my dear Count, and refresh
yourself

They went off, leaving me feeling sick
and hangdog between my guards: the
sight of those tortured bodies outside the
stockade had brought back to me the full
horror of my own situation. And I felt no
better when there came presently a big,
brute-faced sergeant of grenadiers, a
coiled nagaika in his fist, to tell my Cos-
cks they could fall out, as he was taking
me under his wing.

Our necks depend on this fellow.
says one of the Cossacks doubtfully, and
the sergeant sneered and scowled at me.

Ту neck depends on what I've got in
the cells already,” growls he. “Chis offal
is no more precious than my two birds. Be
at peace: he shall join them in my most
salubrious cell, from which even the Jii
pe. March him along!

They escorted me to a corner on the

landward side of the fort, down an alley
between the wooden buildings and to a
short flight of stone steps leading down to
an ironshod door. The sergeant hauled
back the massive bolts, thrust back the
creaking door and then reached up, grab-
bing me by my wrist chains.
n, tut!" he snarled, and yanked me
headlong down into the cell. The door
slammed, the bolts ground to and I heard
him guflawing brutally as their footsteps
died away.

ards cannot esc

I lay there trembling on the dirty
floor, just about done in with fatigue and
fear. At least it was dim and cool in there.

And then I heard someone speaking in
the cell and raised my head; at first 1
could make nothing out in the faint light
that came from a single window high in
one wall, and then I started with aston-
ishment, for suspended flat in the air in
the middle of the сей, spread-cagled. as
though in flight, was the figure of a шап.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim-
ness, I drew in a shuddering breath, for
now I could see that he was cruelly hung
between four chains, one to cach limb
from the top corners of the room. More
astonishing still, beneath his racked body,
which hung about three fect from the
floor, was Crouched another figure, sup-
porting the hanging man on his back,
presumably to take the appalling strain
of the chains from his wrists and ankles.
It was the crouching man who was speak-
ing, and to my surprise, his words
were in Persian.

“It isa gift from God, brother,
speaking with dilliculty. “A rather d
gilt, but human—if there is such a th
а human Russian, At least, he is a pris
oner, and il 1 speak politely to him, I may
persuade him to take my place for a while
and bear your intolerable body. I am too
old for this and you are heavier than Abu

Hassan, the breaker of wind.

The hanging man, whose head was
away Irom me, tried to lift it to look. His
voice, when he spoke, was hoarse with
pain, buc what he said was, unbelievably,
а joke.

“Let him... approach... then . .
and I pray... to Сой... that he has
.- fewer fleas... than you... . Also
+++ you аге... а most. . . uncomforta-
Ше... support... . God help . . . the
woman... who shares... your bed.”

“Here is thanks,” says the crouching
man, panting under the weight. "I bear
him as thgugh I were the Djinn of the
Seven Peaks, and he rails at me. You, nas-
vani [Christ he addressed me. "If
you understand God's language, come
nd help me to support this ingrate, this
ner. And when you are tired, we shall
sit in comfort against the wall and gloat
over him. Or I may squat on his chest, to
teach him gratitude. Come, Ruski, are we
not all God's creatures?
1 even as he said it, his voice qua-
vered, he staggered under the burden
above him and slumped forward uncon-
scious on the floor.

‘The hanging man gave a sudden cry of
anguish as his body took the full stretch
of the chains; he hung there moaning
panting until, without really thinki
scrambled forward

back. His face wa
side my own, wor

"God ... thank you!” he gasped at
last. "My limbs are on fire! But not for
Jong—not for Io
voice came in a
are you—a Rusk

“No” says 1,
Flashman. British army

"You speak . .. our tongue . . . in
God's name?” He groaned again; he was
a devilish weight. And then: “Providence

. works strangely,” says he. "An an-
gliski . . . here. Well, take heart, stranger
+++ уон may Ье... more fortunate . . .
than you know.

I couldn't see that, not by any stretch,
stuck in a lousy cell with some Asiatic
nigger breaking my back. Indeed, I was
regretting the impulse which had made
me bear him up—who was he to me, after
all, that I shouldn't Jet him dangle? But
when youre in adversity, it don't pay to

nta jour at deas
until you know what's what, so 1 stayed
unwillingly where I was, puffing and
straining,

"Lam Yakub Beg,"2 whispers he, a
even through his pa

han
ing with pain.

tortured whisp

English colonel

nize

companions,

ad
1 you could hear the
pride in his voice. “Kush Begi, Khan of
Khokand and guardian of . . . the White
Mosque. You are ту... guest... sent
to me from heaven. Touch . . „ on

Yakub Beg (1820-1877), fighting lead-
er of the Tajiks, chamberlain to the Khan
of Khokand, war lord of the Syr Daria,
cle. (See Appendix.)

PLAYBOY

216

my knee . . . touch on my bosom . . .
touch where you will."

I recognized the formal greeting of the
hill folk, which wasn't appropriate in the
circumstances. "Can't touch anything but
your arse at present,” I told him, and I
felt him shake—my God, he could even
laugh, with the arms and legs being
drawn out of him.

“Iu is a... good answer,” says he.
“You talk... like a Tajik. We 1
in adversity. Now I tell you . . .
man... when I go hence . .
too,

I thought he was just babbling, of
course. And then the other fellow, who
had collapsed, groaned and sat up and
looked about him. "Ah, God, I was weak,
she. “Yakub, my son and brother, for-
e me. Lam as an old wile with dropsy
my knees are as wate

Yakub Beg turned his face towa
mine, and vou must imagine his words
punctuated by little gasps of pain. "That
ncient creature who grovels on the floor
is Izzat Kutebar,"3 says he. “А poor fellow
of little substance and less wit, who raid-
ed one Ruski caravan too many and was
taken, through his greed, So they made
him ‘swim upon land; as I am swimmin
now, and he might have hung here till he
rotted—and welcome—but I was foolish
enough to think of rescue and scouted too
close to this fort of Sh they took
me and placed me in his chains, as the

you go,

ds

an. So

9 zat. Kutebar, bandit, guerrilla fight-
ет, so-called Rob Roy oj the Steppe. (See
Appendix.)

more important prisoner of the two—for
he is dirt, this feeble old Kutebar. He
swung a good sword once, they say—God,
it must have been in Timur's time.”

"By God!” cries Kutcbar. "Did 1 lose
Ak Mecher to the Ruskis? Was I whoring
after the beauties of Bokhara when the
beast Perovski n 1 the men of
Khokand with his grapeshot? No, by the
pubic hairs of Rustum! I was swinging
that good sword, laying the Muscovites in
swathes along the Syr Daria, while this
fine fighting chief here was loafing in the
s, saying, "Ayawal-
lah, it is hot today. Give me to drink,
Miriam, and put a cool hand on my lore-
d’ Come out from under him, ferin-
m

assacri

sec

says Yakub Be ing his
neck and trying to grin. “А dotard, flown
А badawi zhazh-hayan [wild
babbler] who talks as the wild sheep dele
at random, where, When you
n bahadur, we
m, and even the Ruskis will

ke pity on such a dried-up husk and em-
ploy him to clean their privies—those of
the common soldiers, you understand, not
the officers.”

IE I hadu’t served long in Af
and learned the speech and ways of the
Central Asian tribes, I suppose Fd have
imagined that 1 was in a cell with a cou-
ple of madmen. But I knew this trick that
they have of reviling those they respect
most. in banter, of their love of irony and
formal imagery, which is strong in Pushtu

evi

hanistan

"Miss Hartigan, have you ever heard the
expression ‘kiss it and make it well?"

n, the loveliest

and even stronger in Per:
of all languages.

“When you go hither!” scoffs Kute:
bar, climbing to his feet and peering at
his friend. “When will that be? When
Buzurg Khan remembers you? Сой for
bid 1 should depend on the good will of
such a onc. Or when Sahib Khan comes
blundering against this place as you and
he did two years ago and lost two thou-
sand men? Ayah! Why should they risk
their necks lor you—or me? We are not
gold; once we d, who will
dig us up
"My people will come,"
g "And she
Put no ! women, and as much
in the Chinese," says Kutebar cryptically
“Better if this stranger and I try to su
prise the guard and cut our way out.”

“And who will cut these chains?” says
the other. “No, old one, put the foot of
courage in the stirrup of patience. They
will come, if not tonight, then tomorrow-
Let us wait.”

“And while you're waiting," says 1,
“put the shoulder of friendship beneath
the backside of helplessness. Lend a hand,
man, before 1 break in two.

Kutebar took
insults with his fri
ened up to take a loo
was а tall fello
narrow-waisted. and big.shouldered.
naked save for his loose pyj
sers—with great corded arm muscle:
wrists were horribly torn by his m
cles, and while I sponged them with wate
from a chatty [water jug] in the corner,
1 examined his face. It was one of your
strong hill figurcheads, lean and long
jawed, but straightnosed for once—he'd
said he was a Tajik, which meant he was
half Persian. His head was shaved, Uzbek
fashion, with a little scalp lock to one
side, and so was his face, except for a tuft
ol lorked beard on his chin. A tough cus-
tomer, by the look of him: oue of those
genial mountain scoundrels who'll tell
you merry stories while they stab you in
the guts just for the fun of hearing their
knife-hile bells jingl

“You spoke of getting our of here,” says
Ito Yakub Beg. “Is it possible? Will your
friends attempt a rescue?

“He has no friends,” says Kuteb:
cept me, and see the pass 1 am brought to,
propping up his useless trunk."

“They will come.” says Yakub Beg solt-
ly. He was pretty done, it seemed 10 me,
with his eyes closed and his face ravaged
with pain. “When the light fades, you
two must leave me to hang—no, Izzat, it
an order. You and Flashman bahadur
„ for when the Lady of the Great
nes over the wall, the Ruskis
will surely try to kill us before we can be
rescued. You two must hold them, with
your shoulders to the

“H we leave you to hang. you will sure-
ly die," says Kutebar gloomily. "What

arc

лух Yakub

at Yakub Beg. He

‚ so ır as 1 could judge.
lor

Horde с

loor.”

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PLAYBOY

will I say to her then?” And suddenly һе
burst into a torrent of swearing, slightly
mullled by his bent position. “These Rus
siam apes! These scum of Muscovy!
God smite them to the nethermost
n they not give a man a clean death, in-
stead of racking him apart by inches?”
In spite of Kutebar's protests, Yakub
Beg was adamant. When the light began
to fade, hie insisted that we support him
no longer but let him hang at full stretch
in his chains. I domt know how he en-
dured it, for his muscles creaked and he
bit his lip until the blood тап over his
cheek, while Kutebar wept like a child.
He was a burly, grizzled old fellow, stout
h for all his lined face and the grey
s on his cropped head. but the tears
ly coursed over his leathery checks and
beard, and he dammed the Russians as
ily an Oriental can. Finally, he kissed
the hangi n on the forehead, and
nd. and. came over

1 finally fell asleep. When dawn came,
three Russians came with it bearing a

us and then withdrew. Yakub Beg w
half-consci in his fevers,
terminable day Kute
to prop him up. I
e or twice, of rebel-
h didn't seem worth

tured joints; but one look at Kutebar's
ice made me think better of it. Yakub

much at all, and Kutebar aud 1 just
crouched or lay in silence, until evening
came. Yakub Beg somehow d
self back to sense then. just long enough
to order Kutebar hoarsely to let him
swing. so that we should save our
strength. My back was aching with the
strain, and in spite of my depression and
fears, 1 w
h that stark figure spread horribly
overhead in the fading light
Suddenly T was awake, trembl
sweating. with Kutel
across my
to silence.

nt. off 10 sleep almost at once,

wi

sound except Kutebar's hoarse breathing,

ıd then, from somewhere outside, very
fa like
a sleepy into

nothing. Kutebar stiles ub
Beg's chains dinked as he turned and
whispered:

“Bihishti-sawar! [Heavenly] The Sky-
blue Wolves the fold!

Kutebar rose and moved over beneath
the window. D heard him draw in his
breath, and then, between his teeth, he
made that same stange, таса whis
tle—iv's the kind of solt, low noise you
sometimes think you hear at night but
don't regard, because. you Cil is
coming from inside your own hea

е

between don't even
nd, sure enough, it
t on its heels the
ancering the night.

There was а ау of alarm, another
shot, and then a positive volley culm
ing in a thunderous тоаг of explosion,
and the dim Ii
denly incr

mile and enemies ii

And ther
shrieks and Russian voices rowing
above all, the hideous din ol yelling voices

—the old ghazi war cry that had petri-
fied me so often on the Kabul road.

Kutebar was across the cell in a flash.
roaring to me, We threw ourselves against
the door, listening for the sounds of
our guards.

“They have blown in the main gate
with barut [gunpowder] cries. Yakub
Beg weakly. “Listen—the fir all on
the other side

Kurebar’s shout of alarm cut him short.
Above the tumult of shooting and yell-
ing. we heard a rush ol feet. the bolts

k and а gre:
ed at the door on the other side. We
sirained nst dt, Шеге w а row dn

Russia and then a concerted thrust
from without. With our fect scrabbling
for purchase the rough fl we held.
them: they charged together and the door

€ back, but we managed to heave it
nd then came the sound of a
mulled shot aud a splinter lew from the
door between our faces

“Ba-nasnas! [Apest]" bawled Kutebar.
“Monkeys without muscles! C; two
kp rs hold you, then? Must you
shoot. vou bastard sons of fill

Another shot, close beside the other,
nd 1 threw myself sideways: I wasn’t get-
s if 1 could help it.
ining cry as the door
bled back into the
threshold was the
one | al re-
and two men with
t his heels.

w

sc

des}

. torch nd

volver in the other,
bayoneted muskets

“That on
pointing
added to me and 1 c
the door as he covered me. Kutebar was
scrambling up beyond Yakub Beg: the
two soldiers ignored him, one seizing
Yakub Beg about the middle to stcady
him while the other raised his musket
aloft to plunge the bayonet into the
helpless body.

all Ruskis!” cries Yakub.
ings, Tim!

But belore the bayonet could come
down, Kutebar had launched himself at
the soldier's legs: they fell in a thrash

angle of limbs, Kuebar yelling blue
rder. while the other soldier danced
round them with his musket, trying ro get
а chance with his bayonet, and the ser-
geant bawled to them to keep clear and
give hima sho

1 know that the thing to do on these

s find a nice dark corner and
But out of sheer sell-preser-
ren'r—1I knew that if E didit
take a hand, Kutebar and. Yakub would
be dead inside a minute, and where
would shy be then, poor thing?
The sergeant was within a yard of me,
side on, revolver hand extended towards
the wrestlers on the floor; there was two
feet of heavy chain between my wrists, so

occasions

g the dou-
m with all my
d staggered, the
e Moor. a I went
scrabbling madly. He
fetched up beside me. but his ist
have been broken. for he tried to cl
me with his lar hand amd couldn't reach;
1 grabbed the gun, stuck it in his face
and pulled the uigger—and the bloody
thing w action w nd
wouldn't f

He lloundered over me, trying to bite
Wd his breath was poisonous with
—shile I wrestled with the hammer
ol the revolver. His sound hand жаза my
nd heaved to get him
s weight was terrific. 1 smashed
e with the gun and he released
tand grabbed my wrist: he had a

100, espe-
the gi r and with a
ave I managed to get him half
nd in that instant the soldier
with the bayonet was towering over us,
his weapon poised to drive down at my
midriil.

There was nothing 1 could do but
scream and try to roll : it saved m
life, for the sergeant © felt me
weaken and with an snarl of
triumph flung himself back on top ol me
—just as the bayonet came down to spit
him clean between the shoulder bi
II never forget thar engorged face, only
inches from my own—the
the mouth snapping open in ag
the deafening scream that he ler out, The
soldier. yelling madly, hauled on his
musket 10 free the bayonet: it came out of
the writhing, kicking body just as 1 final-
ly got the eked, and before he
st, 1 shot him

bled chain at his for

pon

throat; I kicked
oll. bi

ides.

Cs startin

soldier had bre
char and was in the
ket; lh
miswd—it’s all too casy, 1 asure you
—and he took the chance to break for
the door. 1 snapped off another round at
him and hit him about the hip, I think,
for he went hurtling into the wall. Beforc
he could struggle up, Kutebar was on him
with the fallen musket, yelling some
cry as he sank the bayonet to
the locking ring in the fellow's by

The cell was a shambles. Three di
men on the floor, all bleeding busily, ihe
air thick with powder smoke, Kutebar
"dishing his musket and inviting

ken free fr
ct ol seizin

azed away at

adish w

ast

ad

“Не gives the wildest oral examinations."

| АН ALTERNATIVE,

TO ME
DIULTIVERSITY

219

PLAYBOY

Say, Mac, will you toot your horn when

the traffic starts moving?”

Allah to admire him, Yakub Beg exulting
weakly and calling us to search the ser
geant for his fetter keys and myself count-
ing the shots left in the revolver—two, іш
fac

We found a key
ct and released Yakub's
him gently to the сей floor and propping
him against the wall with his arms still
chained to the corners above his head. He

the sergeanr's pock-
ukles, lowering

coulda’t stand—1I doubted if he'd have
le a week—a

the use of his limbs nd
when we tried to unlock his wrist shack-
les, the key didn't fit. While Izzat
searched the dead man’s clothes, fuming,
1 kept the door covered; the sounds of d
tant fighting were still proceeding me
ly and it seemed to me we'd have more

n visitors before long. We were in
mned tight place until we could get

Yakub fully released; Kutebar had
changed his tack now s trying to
1 a with his
rder, feeble one!” Yakub

encouraged him. “Has all your strength
gone in killing one wounded Ruski?

“Am I a blacksmith?” says Kutebar.
“By the Seven Pools of Eblis, do I have
n teeth? L save your life—again—and
all you can do is whine. We have been at
work, this feringhee and 1, while you
swung comlortably—God, what a fool's

ub. “Watch ihe

‘There were feet т
Kuteba

ad voice:
took the other side from те, his

220 bayonet poised, and 1 cocked the revolv-

cr. The feet stopped, and then а voice
led, "Yakub Beg:
up his hands with a crow of delight.“
shallah! There is good in the Ch

all! Come in, little dogs, a
on the bloody harvest of Kutebar?"

The door swung back, and before you
could say Jack Robinson, there were half
а dozen of them in the cell—robed,
bearded figures with gr faces
and long k 1 never thought Id be
ad to see a ghazi, and these were
straight from that stable. They fell on
Kutebar, embracing and slapping him,
while the others were cither stopped
short at sight of me or hurried on to
Yakub Beg. slumped against the far wall.
And foremost was a lithe black-dad fig-
ure, tight-turbaned round head and chin,
with a flowing doak—hardly more than
a boy. He stooped over Yakub Beg, curs-
ing softly, and then shouted shri
tribesmen: “Hack through those chains!
Bear him up—gently—ah, God, my love,
my love, what have they done to you?

He was posi

id Kutebar flung,
In-

cupping the lolling head between hi
hands, murmuring endearments and
ly kissing him passionately on the
mouth.

Well, the Pathans are like that, you
know, and E wasn’t surprised to find these
near relations of theirs similarly inclined
to perversion; bad luck on the girls, I al-
ways think, but all the more skirt 6
chaps like me. Disgusting sight. though
this youth slobbering over him like that.

Our rescuers were eyeing me uncer
tainly, until Kutebar explained whose
side Î was on; then they all turned the
attention to Oscar and Bosic. One of the
tribesmen had hacked through Yakub's
chains and four of them were bearing
him towards the door, while the black
dad boy fined alon ing them
to be careful. Kutebar motioned me to
the door and I followed him up the steps,
still clutching my revolver; the last of the
tribesmen paused, even ical
moment, to pass his knife ca
the throats of the three dead Russians,
and then joined us, giggling gleefully.

“The hallal [ritual throat. cutting)!”
says he. "Is it n
despatch of a

“Blaspheme
a time for jest?”

The boy hissed at them and they were
silent. He had authority, this Не spring
violet, and when ke snapped а command
they jumped to it, hurrying along be
tween the buildings, he brought
up the rear, glancing back towards the
sound of shooting from the otl e of
the fort, There wasn't a Russian to be
seen where we were, but 1 wasn't sur
prised. I could see the game—a sudden
attack, with gunpowder and lots of noise,
at the main gate, to di Russian
in that direction, while the lifting party
sneaked in through some rear bolthole.
They were probably inside before the
attack began, marking the seutries and
ng for the signal—but they hadn't
gained, apparently, for the sergeant
and his men having orders to kill Yakub
Beg as soon as a rescue was attempted.
We'd been lucky the:

Suddenly we were under the main wall
and there were figures оп the catwalk
overhead; Yakub Берг body, grotesquely
limp, was being hauled up, with the boy
piping feverishly at them to be casy with
him, Not 50 feet away, to our left, mus-
kets were blazing from one of the guard
towers, but they were shooting away from
ws. Strong lean hands helped me as 1
bled clumsily at а rope ladder;
voices in Persian were muttering round
us in the dark, robed figures were crouch-
ing at the embrasures, and then we were
sliding down the ropes on the outside and
J fell the last ten feet, landing on top of
the man beneath, who gave a brief cor
y ou my parentage, fut id
habits as only a hillman can and.
then called softly: “АП down, Silk Onc,
g the down Kutebar, your
beloved the Kush Begi and this n
begotten pig of a feringhee with the
large feet.”

Gol" said the boy's voice from the
top of the wall, and as they thrust me for-
ward іп the dark, a long keening wail
broke out from overhead; it was echoed
somewhere along the wall, and сус

above the sound of firing 1 heard it far
ther off still. I was st

s Kutebar. "Js this

ws

chains. а
wlio led me.

About half а mile from the fort, there
was a gully, with cypress trees. and horses
stamping in the dark, and I just sat on the
ground, limp and thankful, beside Kute-
bar, while he reviled our saviours £
ially. Presently, the boy in black Gime
slipping out of the shadows, knecling be-
side us.

1 have sent Yakub away," says he

Iı is far to the edge of the Red Sands
We wait here, for Sahib Khan and the
others—God grant they have not lost
100 many!"

“To build the house, trees must fall
says Kutebar complacently. I agreed with
him entirely, mind you. "And how is His
Idleness. the Falcon on the Royal Wrist E
He is well, God be thanked." says the
boy. and then the furious little pansy
began to snivel like a girl. “His poor
limbs are torn. and. helpless—but he is
strong, he will mend!"

And the disgusting young lout Mung
his arms round Kutebar's neck, murmu
ing gratefully and kissing him, until the
old fellow pushed him away—he was nor.
mal, at least

"Shameless thing!" mutters he.
spect my grey hairs! Is there no s
ness among you Chinese, then? Away.
you barelaced creature—practise your
gratitude on this angliski, if you. must,
but spare me

ching at the hand of the man

Indeed I shall," says the youth and
turning to me, he put his hands on my
shoulders. "You have saved my love,
stranger; therefore, you have my love, for
ever and all" He was a nauseatingly
pretty one, this, with his full lips and
slanting Chinee eyes, and his pale, chis-
elled face framed by the black turb

The tears were still wet on his cheeks,
then to my disgust he leaned for
plainly intending to kiss me, too.

“Хо, thank'ec!" cries I. “Хо offence,
my son, but I ain't one for your sort, il
you don't mind. .. .”

But his arms were round my neck and
his lips on mine before I could stop him
ана then I felt two firm young breasts
pressing against my chest, and there was
no mistaking the womanliness of the
soft cheek against mine. A female, begad
ling a ghazi storming party on a
neck-or-nothing venture like this! And
such a female, by the feel of her. Well, of
course, that put a different complexion
on the thing entirely. and E suff
to kiss away to her heart's content, and
mine. What else could a gentleman do?

"There are some parts of my life that I'd
be glad to relive any time—and some that
1 don't care to remember at all. But there
aren't many that I look back on and have
to pinch myself to believe that they really
happened. The business of the Khokand.
ian Horde of the Red Sands is one of
these, and yet it’s one of the few episodes

ed her

a

tAn
that

her serati

two-
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in my career that T can verily from
the history books if I want to. There
are obscure works on Central Asia by
nonymous surveyors and military writ
ers and I can look in them and find the
names and places—Yakub Вер.
KRutebar and. Kaui
and the Seven Kho
Middle Hordes of the Black Sands and
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there for part of it, and even I look back

3 Presumably such works as “England
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224 along the road through

on

as some kind of frighten
е come true.

On the night of the rescue from Fort
Raim, of course, I knew next to nothing
about them—except that they were ob-
usly of the warlike tribes constantly re-
ng the Russians who were trying to
invade their country and push the ts
dominions south to Afghanistan and
to the China border. It was a bloody, bru-

ng f

tal business, that, and the wild people
iks. the Kirghiz-Kazaks, the
ns, the Uzbeks and the r

forced back up the Syr
o the Hungry Steppe and the
nds, harrying all the w: ne
Russian outposts and cutting up
vaus.

But they weren't just sa
means. Behind them, far up the Syr Dari
and the Amu Daria, were their great
cities of Tashkent and Khokand and
ind and Bokhara, places that had
been civilized when the Russians were
running round bare-arsed—these were
the spots that Moscow was really after.

It was to the brink of з land
that they carried us on the night of our

Fort Raim—a punish-
g vide. hour after hour, through the
1k and the silvery morning, over miles
of desert and gully and parched steppe-
land. They had managed to sever my

ages by any

o m

ankle chain. so that 1 could back a horse,
but Т rode in an exhausted dream, only

half-conscious of the robed figures flank-
ing me, and when we finally halted, I
remember only arms supporting me,
and the smell of camel's-hair robes, and
blessed. soltness to sleep

It was a good place. that—an oasis deep
ands of the Kizil Kum, where
the Russians still knew better than to
venture. I remember waking there, to the
sound of rippling water, and crawling out
of the tent into bright sunlight aud blink-
ing at a long valley, crowded with tents,
and а litle village of beautiful white
houses on the valley side, with trees and
grass, and women and children chatter-
ing. and Tajik riders. everywhere, with
their ho сате, ly,
bearded fellows, bandoleered and booted,
and not the kind of company I care to
keep, normally. But one of them sings
out: "Salaam, angliski!”
by, and one of the women gave me bres
d all seemed very friendly,
first morning, as the local smith
у enters in the presence

in the Red <

ses and

dmi crowd, 1 was
ning to think ahead to the
ext leap. Very likely, Yakub Beg was

on dining-out terms with half the bud-
mashes [ruffüns] and cattle thieves be-
here Марай. In gratitude
for my services in the cell at Fort Raim,
he couldn't refuse giving me an escort
Afghanistan.

And, with my Persian and Pushtu, ГӘ
have no difficulty in passing as ап AE
ghan, as I had once before.

"Then my thoughts went bound
ahead to my triumphant arrival in Ind
—the renowned Flashy, last seen vanish-

ng

ng into the Russian army at Balaclava,
emerging at Peshawar іп romantic
disguise.

"Rough шір hallway across Russia,

through Astrakhan, over the Aral Sca and.
across the Hindu Kush? Noo, not really,
though ГИ be glad when these fetter-
marks have healed up. By the way, you
might let the governor-general know that
there's a Russian army of thirty thousand
coming down through the Khyber shortly
— learned it from the tsar's secret сарі
net, you know. Now, be a good fellow and
get it on the telegraph to Calcutta.

Gad. the press would be full of it—
‘Saviour of Ind ing the damned
place would be saved. East's scuttle
through the snow would look puny by
comparison, though I'd give him a pat on
the back and point out that he'd done his
duty, even though it meant sacrificing his
old сопу 1 might, if I played it
properly, get a knighthood out of i
ached my travel
plans to Lzat Kutebar that afternoon
over a dish of kefir in the neighbouring
tent where he was recovering noisily from
his captivity-
at, and thank Providence for such
delights as this, which you infidels call
ambrosia,” says Kutebar, while an old
serving-woman put the dish of honey-
coloured curds before me. “The secret of
its preparation was specially given by
God to Abraham himself. Perso:
prefer it even to а Tash
you know the proverb runs that the
Ph of the Faithful would give ten
pearl-breasted beauties from his harcem
for a single melon of Tashkent. Myself, 1
would give five, perhaps, or six. if the
melon were a big one.” He wiped his
beard. “And you would go to Aly
istan, then, and to your folk in India?
It сап be an we owe you a debt,
Flashman bahadur, Yakub and 1 and ай
our people for your
own deliverance.” he added geniy, I
protested my undying gratitude at once,
ind he nodded gravely.

"Between warriors let a word of t
be like a heartheat—a small thing, I
heard, but it suffices,” says һе,

Е

inks

grinned sheepishly. "What do I say? The
our chief debt io that

truth is, we all ow
wild witch, Ko Dali
they call the Silk One.

“Who is sh

ble female last night to be thoroughly in-
trigued. “Do you know, Izzat, last night
until she... er, I was sure
she was a

"So Ko Dali must have thought, when

the fierce Tittle bitch came yelping into
the world,” says he. “Who is Ko Dali?—a
d the good taste
n wife and the ill
k One. He governs in
а Chinese city of East Turkestan
d miles cast of here, below the
nd the Seven Rivers Country

to take а Khokand:
luck to father the Si

Issik Kul
Would to God he could govern his daugh-
ter as well—so should we be spared much

shame, for is it not deplorable 10 have
woman who struts like a khan among us
and leads such enterprises as that which
freed you and me last night? Who can
fathom the ways of Allah, who lets such
things happen?”

“Well,” says I, “it happened among the
Ruskis, you know, Kutebar. They had an
empress—why, in my own country, we are
ruled by a queen.

“So I have heard.
infidels. Besides, does your sultana, Vik
Taria, go unveiled? Does she plan raid
and ambush? No, by the black tomb of
Timur. ГИ wager she does uot

“Not that I've heard, lately,” 1
ted. “But this Silk One"

"She came, on a it would be two
s ago. alter the Ruskis had built that
devil's house, Fort Raim, and then she
was among us, with her shameless bare
face and bold talk and a dozen Chinese
devil fighters attending on her. It was а
troubled time, with the world upside
down, and we scratching with our finger-
nails to hold the Ruskis back by for
ambuscade: in such disorders.
possible, even a woi s chief.
And Yakub saw her He spread
his hands. "She is beautiful, as the lily at
morning—áand clever, not to be de-
nied. Doubtless they will marry, someday,
if Yakub's wife will Jet him—she lives at
ck, on the But he is no fool, my
Yakub—perhaps he Joves this female
hawk, perhaps not, but he
and he seeks such a kingdom for himself
. Who knows, when Ko Dali
dics, if Yakub finds the throne of Kho-
kand beyond his reach, he may look to Ko
Dalis daughter to help him wrest Kash-
gar Province from the Chinese. He has
spoken of it, and she sits, devouring him
with those black Mongolian eyes of hi
It is said” he went on confidentially,
“that she devours other men also and tha
it was for her scandalous habits that the
or of Fort the
у wild dogs mate above his
1 her head shaved when she
taken last year, after the fall of A
Mechet. They sa

“They Пе!” screeched the old woman,
who had been listening. "In their jeak
ousy they throw dirt on her, the pretty
Silk One!"

“Will y
discord

"but you

says hi e

admit-

nbi

jous

im. Engmann

u raise your head, mother of
ner of good. food?" says
ed her scalp. I say.
which is why she goes with a turban about

сутт. wo a Oe

LI YT 3 a= om

she's satisfied."

hen Tm satisfied,

“That's Greta. W

225

PLAYBOY

226

her a kept it shaved,

nd vowed to do so until she has Eng-
mann's own head on a plate at her feet.
God, the perversity of women! But what
сап one do about her? She is worth ten
heads in the council, she can ride like a
Kazak and is as brave аз... as... as I
am, by God! If nd Buzurg Khan
of Khokand—;
these R

coun-

seeing their weaknesses and show
how they may be confounded. <
touched by God, I believe.”

“And you say she'll make him a king
one day and be his queen.
nary girl, indeed. Meanwhile, she helps
you fight the Ruskis.”

“She helps nor me, by €
help Yakub, who fights as ch

xi! She n
ef of the

Khan, who rules in Khokand. They fight
for their state, for all the Kirghiz-Kazak
people, against an invader. But I, Izzat

Kutebar, fight for myself my own
band. I am no statesman, I am no gover-

nor or princeling. I need no throne but
my saddle. 1," says this old ruffian, with
immense pride, "am a bandit, as my fa-
thers were. For upwards of thirty years
nce 1 first ambushed the Bokhara
an, in fact—I have robbed the Rus-
ап». Let me wear the robe of pride over
the breastplate of distinction, for 1 have
taken more loot and cut more throats of
theirs since they put their thieving noses
cast of the Blue Lake [Aral Sca] than

own cause, Isay

“But you shall see for yourself, whe
we go to greet Yakub tonight—aye, and
hall see the Silk Оне, too, and judge
aner of thing she is. God keep
om the marriage bed of such a de-
d when I find paradise, may my
is not come from Ch
evening, when 1 had bathed,
trimmed ту beard and had the filthy rags
of my captivity replaced by shirt, pyjam
trousers and soft Persian boots, Kutebar
took me through the crowded camp. with
everyone saluting him as he strutted by,

with his beard oiled and his silver-crusted
belt and broad gold medal worn over his
з coat.

bed up to the white houses of
nd Izzat led me through a low
а little garden, where there
s a fountain and an open pillared pa-
ight find in Aladdin's
a lovely litle place,
the warm evening, with
niches, the
first stars beginning to peep in the dark-
blue sky overhead and some flutelike
softly beyond the wall.
nge, but the reality of the East i
beyond anything the rom
poets and artists can create in imitation.

Yakub Beg was lying on a pile of cush-
ions beneath the pavilion, bareheaded
and dad only in his pyjamas, so that his
shoulders could be m: stout
ng at them with
warmed He was tired and hollow-
eyed still, but his lean face lit up
sight of us. I suppose he was a bit of a
demon with his forked beard and
Ip lock, thing in Central
Asia, which they say isa legacy of Alexan-
der's Greek mercenaries—the brightblue
eyes of the European. And he had the
happiest smile, I think, that ever J saw on
а human face. You had only to see it to
understand why the Syr Daria tribes car-
Lon their hopeless struggle against the
Russians; fools will always follow the
Yakub Begs ol this world.

He greeted me eagerly and. presented
me to Sahib Khan, his I
whom I remember nothing
was unusually tall, with m hes that
fell below his cl ig not to
look too pointedly at the third member of
the group, who was lounging on the cush-
1 Yakub, playing with а tiny Per-
sian kitten on her lap. Now that I saw her
in full light, 1 had a little difficulty in rec
ognizing the excitable, p. е crea-
ture I had taken for a boy only the night
before; Ko Da ughier this
was a very self- possessed, consciously f
ne young woman, indeed—of course,
girls are like that, sque
all assured dignity the next. She w
dressed in the Gghtwrapped white trouw-
sers the Tajik women wear, with curled
Persian slippers on her dainty feet, and
any illusion of boyishness was dispelled
by the roundness of the doth-of-silver
blouse beneath her short embroidered
jacket. Round her head she wore a pale-
pink turban, very tight, framing a strik-
ing young Lace as pale as alabaster—
you'll think me susceptible, but 1 found
her incredibly fetching, with her slar
ing almond (the only €
ng about her), the slightly protruding
milk-white teeth which showed as sh
teased and laughed at the kit
termined little chin and the

ion such as you
pantomime. It w:

the

ons

eyes nesc

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PLAYBOY

228

nose that looked as though it had been
chiselled out of marble.
Tzzat tells me you are eager to rejoin
your own people in India, Flashman
bahadur. Before we discuss that, I wi:
make a small token sign of my g
to you for .. . well, for my life, no le
There are perhaps half a dozen people
the world who have saved Yakub Beg at
onc time or another—three of them you
sec here.
"More fool we,” growls Kutebar. “А
thankless task, friends.”
‘But you are the first feringhee to ren-
der me that service. So"—he gave that
frank impulsive grin and ducked his
shaven head—"if you are willing, and
will do me the great honour to accept..."
1 wondered what was coming and
cau, ignal from
ahib Khan, a servant brought in а tray
articles—a little bowl
which
kily, a

an

square of
attaching to it and a
dagger with the suake-and-hare design on
s blade. I knew what this meant and it
took me aback, for it’s the ultimate hon-
our a hillman can do to you: Yakub Beg
wanted to make me his blood brother.
And while you could say I had saved hi

life—still, it was big medicine, on such
short acquaintance.

However, 1 knew the formula, for Га
been blood brother to young Hderim of
Mogila years before, so 1 followed him in
tasting the salt, and passing my hand over
the fire and the carth, and then laying it
beside his on the knife while he said, and
I repeated:

“By carth and salt and fire; by hilt and
blade; and in the name of God in what-
ever tongue men call Him, 1 am thy
brother in blood henceforth. May He
curse me and consign me to the pit for-
ever, if 1 fail thee, my friend.”

Маки» Beg had some difhculty, his
shoulders were still crippled and Sahib
Khan had to lift his hi tray for
him. And then he had to carry both his
hands round my neck as I stooped for Ше
formal embrace, hich Kutebar and.
Ko Dali's dau
mured their xd we drank hot
black coffe lemon esence and
opium, sweetened with sherbet.

And then the seri s began. I
1 to recite, at Yakub Beg's request, my
own recent history and how J had come
o the hands of the Russians. So I told
them, in brief, much of what I've written
here, from my capture at Balaclava to my

i imi out the dis

“Boss, the boys have voted to kick you

upstairs?”

creditable bits, of course, but telling them
they wanted to hear most, which w.
why there was a great Russian army as-
sembling at Fort Raim, for the march to
India. They listened intently, the men
only occasionally exploding in a “Bi
Jah!” ог “Ayah!” with a handclap by
way of emphasis and th
fondling the kitten and watching me with
those thoughtful, almond eyes And when
1 had done, Yakub Beg began to laugh
—so loud and hearty that he hurt his

torn muscles.
much for pride, then! Oh, Kho-
kand, what a little thing you are, and how

ant your people in the sight of
the great world! We had thought, in our
folly, that this great army was for ws, that

just to be
a mosquito

sights his quarry. And the Great Bear
marches on India, does һе?” He shook his
head. "Ca

ush
Ruskis will begin th
Daria within two жесі
have а month of
ihen"—he m
‘ashkent

cary little gesti
d Khokand will go; P
ik his tea in the se

the See The Cos-
cks will ride over the Black Sands
and the Red.”

"Well," says 1, helpfully, perhaps you
cin make some sort of . . . accommoda
ith them. Ferms, don't you know."
says Yakub. "Have you n
terms with a wolf lately, Englishu
Shall I tell you the kind of term
make? When this scum Perowki brought
his soldiers and big guns to my city of Ak
Mechet two years ago, invading our soil
for no better reason than that he wished
to steal it, what did he tell M. d
Wali, who ruled in my absence?” Hi
voice was still steady, but his eyes were
shini "Russia comes not for
› but forever.’ Those
were his terms. And when V people
fought lor the town, even the wome

по food
d the swords were all broken, and
the litle powder gone, and the w
blown in, and only the citadel rem;
is enough. We will surren-
* And Peroyski tore up the offer of
surrender and said: "We w
del with our bayonets.” And they did
Two hundred of our folk they mowed

down with grape, even the old and young.
That is the honour of a Russian soldier;
that is the peace of the White Tsar.

“My wife and children died in Ak Me-
chet, beneath the White Mosque.” says

5 The Russian expansion into Central
Asia in the middle of the last century,
which swallowed up all the independent
countries and khanates east of the Cas-
pian as far as China and south to Afghan-
isian, was conducted with considerable
brutality. The massacre at Ak Mechet
(the White Mosque) by General Perouski,
on August 8, 1853, took place as Yakub
Beg describes il, but it was surpassed by
such atrocities as Denghil Tepe, in the
Kara Kum, in 1579, when the Tekke
women and. children, altempling to
cape from the position which their men-
Jolk were holding, were deliberately shot
down by Lomakine's troops. In this, as in
other places, the Russian commanders
made it clear that they were not inter-
ested in receiving surrenders.

JL is customary nowadays for Russians
to refer to this expansion as "tsarist im-
perialism”; however, it will be noted
that while (he much-abused Western
colonial powers have now largely divested
themselves of their empires, the modern
Russian Communist state retains an iron
grip on the extensive colonies in Cen-
tral Asia which the old Russian empire
acquired.

Sahib Khan. “They did not even know
who the Russians were. My little son
capped his hands before the battle, to see
so many preity uniforms and the guns all
in arow.”

They were silent again and I sat un-
comfortably, until Yakub Beg says: "I
took seven thousand men against Ak Me-
chet two winters since and saw them
went aguin with twice as many
and saw my thousands slain. The Rus-
ians lost eighteen killed. Oh, if it were
sabre Lo sabre, horse to horse, man to
man, 1 would not shirk the odds—but
yainst their artillery, their rifles, what
n our riders da
ght,” growls Kutebar. “$
last fight, let it be one they will remem-
ber. A month, you say?
can run the horsetail 1
and back; we can
fighting man fom Turgai
dus [Hindu Kush r
n to the Tarim Des
rose steadily from a growl to a shout.
"When the Chinese slew the Kalmuks in
the old time, what was the answer given
to the fainthearts: ‘Tum east, west,
north, south, there you shall find the Kir-
ghiz. Why should we lic down to a hand-
ful of strangers?’ They have arms, they
ave horses—so have we. If they come in
ls these
Horde of the far steppes,

idels, have we

the people of the Blue Wolf, to join our
jihad [holy war]? We may not win, but,
d, we can make them understand
that the ghosts of Timur and Chinghiz
Khan still ride these plains; we can mark
every yard of the Syr Daria with a Rus
sian corpse; we can make them buy this
country at a price that will cause the
tsar to count his change in the Krem-
lin palace!”

'akub Beg sighed, and then smiled at
me. He was one of your spirited rascals
who can never be glum for more than a
moment. “It may be. If they overrun us,
I shall not live to see ГІ make young
bones somewhere up by Ak Mechet. You
understand, Flashman bahadur, we may
buy you a little time here, in Syr D:
—no more. Your red soldi y avenge
us, but only God can help us.

Ko Dali’s daughter spoke for the first
time and I was surprised how high and
yet husky her voice was—the kind that
makes you think of French satin sofas,

“Тіс Mongols were said to be de-
scended from a sky-blue wolf. Flashman's
Khokandian friends scem to have used
the term vather loosely, possibly because
many of them were part Mongol by de-
scent. Incidentally, much of Kutebar's
speech at this point is almost word for
word with a rallying сай heard in the
Syr Davia country at the time of the
Russian advance.

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PLAYBOY

230 thought of it by now,

with the blinds down and purple wall-
paper. She was lying prone now, ti
ааа belly and murmuring to it.

"Do you hear them, little tiger, these
great strong men? How they enjoy their
pair! They reckon the odds and find
heavy, and since fighting is so much
than thinking, they put the scowl
of resignation on the face of stupidity
and swear most horribly.” Her voice
whined in grotesque m “By the
bowels of Rustum, we shall give them a
battle to remember—hand me my scimi-
tar, Gamal, it is in the woodshed. Aye, w
shall make such and such a sla ст, and
we are all blown to the ends of Eb-
y Ged protect the valorous!—we
it least be blown like men. A
ih, brothers, it is God's will; we shall
ve done our best. This is how the wi
warriors talk, furry little sister—which is
why we women weep and children go
hungry. But never fear—when the Rus-
sians have Killed them all, I shall find
myself a great strong Cossack and you
shall have a lusty Russian tom, and we
shall live on oranges and honey and
cream forever-

Yakub Beg just laughed and silenced
Kutebar's angry growl. "She never said a
word that was not worth listening to.
Weil, Silk One, what must we do to
be saved?"

i's daughter rolled the kiuen
t them now, before they have
moved, while they have their backs to the
Take rsemen, suddenly,
d scatter them on the beach.”

"Oh. cage the wind, girl!” cries Kute
bar. “They have thirty thousand muskets,
one third of them Cossack cavalry. Where
can we raise half that numbe
Send to Buzurg Khan to help you. At
need, ask aid from Bokhara."

Bokhara is lukewarm,” says Yakub
Beg. “They are the last to whom we сап
turn for help.

The girl shrugged. "When the Jew
grows poor, he looks to his old accounts,
Well, then, you must do it alone

How, woman? 1 have not the gift o
human multiplication; they оши
us.

But their ammunition has not yet
come—this much we know from your
spies at Fort Raim. So the odds are none
t—three to one at most. With such
valiant sabres as Kutebar here, the thing
should be easy.”

“If there were a hope of a surprise a
tack on their camp succeeding, 1 should
have ordeved it," says Yakub Beg. “But I
see no way. Their powder ships will ar
rive in а week, and three days, perhaps
four, thereafter, they will be moving up

bei

t

k her, then," says Kutebar sarcasti-
cally. “Is she not waiting to be asked? To
her, it will be easy.”

“If it were easy, even you would 1
says Ше girl

me think of it instead.” She rose, picking
up her cat, stroking it and smiling as she
nuzzled it. "Shall we think, little cruelty?
And when we have thought, we shall tell
them and ihey will slap their knees and
hallah, but how simple! Je le:
to the eye! A child could have conceived
nd they will smile on us and perhaps
throw us a litle jumagi [pocket money]
or a sweetmeat, for which we shall be
humbly thankful. Come, butcher of little
mice." And wit a glance

1 without so much а
at us, she sauntered oll, with those tight
white pants stirring provocatively and
Izzat cuisiug under his breath.

“Ко Dali should have whipped the de-
mons out of that baggage before she
teeth! Bur the t do the Chinese
know of education? If she were mine, by
death, would 1 not. HE her:

w

and grey whiskers,”
“So let her think
oL it, you may have the laugh o£ her."

Now, their discussion had been all very
well, no doubt, but it was of no gr
terest to me whether they got themselv
cut up by the Russians now or a month
hence. The main thing was to get Flashy
on his way to India, and I made bold to
raise the subject again, But Yakub Beg
disappointed me

“You shall g
will make no у
have made a resolve here, and
your chiefs in India knew what
So they may be the better prepared. In
the meantime, Flashman bahadur
brother, take your ease

says
and if nothing come

surely, but a few days

days I loafed about, wandering through
e camp, observing the gr
nd the

coming and
each day
They were
ng in from all parts of the Red Sands
and, beyond, from as far as the Black
sands below Khiva, and Zaralshan and
the Bokhara border—Uzbeks with thei
Паг yellow
swarthy Tajiks and
plelooking folk with their long
swords and bandy legs until there must
have been close on 5000 riders in that
alley alone. But when you thought of
these wild hordes pitted a tillery
and disciplined riflemen, you saw how
hopeless the business was; it would take

сез and scalp locks, lean,
yed Mongols,

лет

more than the Silk One to think them
out of this.
An extraordinary young woman, 1

weeping passionately over Yakub's
the night of the rescue, but i
council with the men as 5 composed and
bossy) as A walking
temptation, too, to a warm-blooded chap
like me, so I kept well clear of her in
those three days. She might be just the
ticket for a wet weekend, but she was also
Yakub Begs intended—and that apart,

wounds oi

Ym bound to confess that there wa

thing about the cut of her shapely

jib that made me just а mite uneasy. I'm
wary of strong, clever women, however
beddable they may be, and Ko Dali's
daughter was strong and too clever for
comlort. As 1 was to find out to my cost
—God, when I think what that Chinese-
minded mort got me into!

I spent my time, as 1 say, loafing and
setting more impatient and edgy by the
hour. I wanted ıo get away for India, and
every day that passed brought nearer the
moment when those Russian brutes
(with Ignatieff well to the fore, no
doubt) came pouring up the Syr Daria
valley from Fort Raim, guns, Cossacks,
foot and all. But Yakub still seem
certain how to prepare for the fight thi
was coming: he'd tried his overlord,
Buzurg Khan, for help, and got little out
of him, and egged on by Kutebar, he was
coming round to the Silk One's notion of
one mad slash at the enemy before they
had got under way from Fort Raim. Good
Juck, thinks I, just give me a horse and
escort first and Ill. bless your enterprise
as I wave farewell.

It was the fourth day and Т was loung-
ing in the camp's little market, improving
my Persian by learning the 99 names ol
God (only the Bactrian camels know the
100th, which is why they look so deuced
superior) from an Astrabad caravan
RET urdercr, when. Kutebar
ame in a great bustle to take me to
Yakub Beg at once. 1 went, thi
cvil. and found him in the pa
Sahib Khan and one or two others, squat-
nd their coflee table. Ко Dali's
1 s lounging apart, lisi g
and saying nothing, feeding her kitten
h sweet jelly. Yakub, whose limbs had
mended to the point where he could
move with only a little stiffness, was
wound up like а fiddlestring with ex-
ciement; he was smiling gleefully as
he touched my hand in greeting and
motioned me to sit

“News, Flashman bahadur! The Ruski
powder boats come tomorrow. They have
loaded at Tokmak, the Obruchelf steam
and the Mikhail, and by evening they
will be at anchor off Syr Daria's mouth,

with every grain of powder, every car-
ийе, every pack for the artillery in
their holds! The nes cargoes
will be dispersed throu ski host

who

t the moment ha
rounds to cach musket.” He rubbed |
hands joyfully. "You see what it m.
angliski? God has put them in our hands
—may His name be ever blessed!"

I didn't sce what he was driving at,
until Sahib Khan enlightened me. “If
those two powder boats can be de-
stroyed,” says he, “there will be no Rusk
army on the Syr Daria this year. "They will

e a bear without daws.”
nd there will be no advance on
India this year, either!" cries Yakub.
“What do you say to that, Flashman?

It was big news, certainly, and their
logic was flawless—so far as it went:

Your watch has done you in again.

And everybody's fed up with your excuses

To insure your dignity, not to mention your job, you need an
Accutron” watcl

li doesn’t have a mainspring that can get unsprung. Or a bal-
ance wheel that can get unbalance

It has a tuning fork movement guaranteed to tum in an honest
days work to within a minule a morih*

Just match that record, and your worries are over.

BULOVA ACCUTRON'

The faithful tuning fork wach

PLAYBOY

232

Without their main munitions, the Rus-
sians couldn't march. From my detached
point of view. there was only опе small
question to ask. “Сап you do ii?"

He looked at me, grinning,
thing in that happy bandit
the alarms rumbling in my lower
hat you shall tell us,” says he.
deed, God has sent you here. Lister
What I have told you is sure infor
every slave who labours on that b
Fort Қайт, unloading and piling baggage
for those Ruski filth, isa man or a woman
of our people—so that not a word is spo-
ken t camp, not a deed done, not a
sentry relieves himself but we know of it.
We know to the last peck of rice, to the
t horseshoe, what supplies already lie
t beach, and we know, too. that
when the powder ships anchor olf Fort
Raim. they will be ringed about with
guard boats, so that not even a fish can
п rough. So we cannot hope to mine
or burn them by storm or surprise.

Well, that dished him. it seemed to
but on he went. happily disposing of
other possibility. “Nor could we hope to
drag the lightest of the few poor cannon
we have to some place within shot of the
ships. What then remains?” He smiled
triumphantly and produced from his
breast а roll of papers, writen іш Rus
sian; it looked like a list

nnarcs.

E

“Did E not say we were well served Dor
spies? This is а manifest of stores and
equipment already landed and lying be
neath the awnings and in the sheds. My
eful Silk Оле” һе bowed in her di
1ection— has had them interpreted and
has found of vast interest. It
says— iow nd bless the a
you from whom this. gilt
comes ds of British
rocket dred boxes of
cases,"

He stopped, staring eagerly at mı
1 was aware that they were all w

me of
own people
it says: “Twenty st
millery; (wo 1

expectanily
‘Congreve s I. “Well. w
“What is the range of such rocke
asked Yakub Beg.
“Why—about two miles.” 1 knew
about

tice, then
bu

“The ships will not be
е from the shore,” says he softly.
these rockets, from what I have heard, are
fiercely combustible—like G k fire
one ol them were upper
works of the ste:
of the Mikhail."

"Forgive me,"

€ the
ıer or the wooden hull

vs 1. "But the Ruskis
have these rockets—you don't. And if
you're thinking of stealing some of ‘em,
Im sorry, Yakub, but you're eating green
corn. D'ye know how much a single Con-
greve rocker head weighs. without its
stick? Thirty-two pounds. And the stick
and before you can

is fifteen feet lon;

one you have to have the firing
frame, which is solid steel weighing God
knows what, with iron half-pipes. Oh, I
daresay friend Kutebar here has some
pretty thieves in his fighting tail, but the
couldn't hope to lug this kind of gear ou
from under the Russians’ no: it un-
seen, Dammit, you'd need a mule iain.
And if, by some miracle, you did get hold
of a frame and rockets, where would you
find a firing point close enough? For that
matter, at two miles—m
tained at fifty-five degr you
could blaze away all night and never
score a hit"

1 suddenly stopped. talking. Td been
expecting to see their faces fall, but
Vakub was gi broader by the sec-
ond, Kutebar was nodding grimly, even
Sahib Khan was smiling.

: "s the joke, then
. you sec."

“We do not need to do it," says Yakub,
looking like a happy crocodile. “Tell me:
‘These things are like great skyrockets, are
they not? How long would it take ш
skilled men—handless creatures like the
ancient Kutebar. for example—to_ pre-
pare and fire onc?"

“To erect the frame?—oh, two m
utes, for artillerymen. Ten times as long.
probably. lor your lot. Adjust the aim,
light the fuse and off she gocs—but d

nit. what's the use of this to you

"Yallah!" cries he, арр is hands
delightedly. "I should call you saped-pa.
—white foot. the bringer of good luck
and good news, for what you have just

ays 1. "You

told us is the sweetest tidings I have heard

this summer.” He reached over and
my knee. "Have no fear—we do

not d to steal a rocket. although

you h;

was my first thought. But е
pointed out. it would be impossible: this
much we had realized. But my Silk One,
whose mind is like the puzzles of her

thers people, intricately simple, ha
found a way. Tell him, Kutebar."

“We cannot beat the Ruskis, even if we
launch our whole power. five or six thou
sand riders, upon their beach camp and
Fort Raim.” says the old bandit. “They
must drive us back with slaughter in the

end. Buc —he wagyed а finger. like an
cagle’s ilon under my nose—"we can
storm their camp by night, in onc p

where these feringhe ıs are d
апа that is hard by the pier. in a
Ue godown [warehouse]. This our people
have already told us, It will be a strange
thing if, descending out of the night past
Fort Raim like a thunderbolt, we cannot
hold fifty yards of beach for an hour,
facing both ways. And in our midst. we
shall ser up this raket device, and while
our riders hold the en
gunners сап launch
against he Ruski powder
will be in fair range, not hal
in such weather, with timbers as dry as
sand. will not one ra-ket striking home be
ient to burn them to Jebannum:

1 looked at the Silk One with
wling, She'd schemed up thi
ate, doomed nonsense, in which thou-
sands of men were going to be cut up. and
ther ‚ dusting her kitten's whi
ers. Mind you, І didn't doubt, whe
thought of the thing, that they could
bring it off, given decent luck. Five thou-
d sabres, with the likes of Kutebar
ing about in the dark, could create
that Russian camp and probably
secure a beachhead just long enough for
them to turn the Russians’ own rockets
on the powder ships. And | knew any fool
could lay and fire a Congreve. But alter-
ht of the shambles of thai
and those rows of gal.

cra

‚ there they sat, those madmen,
pleased as if they were going to
birthday party. Yakub Beg calling for
coffee and sherbet, Kurebar's evil old face
wreathed in happy smiles. Well, it was no
concern of mine if they wanted to throw
their lives away—and if they did succeed
in cippling the Russian invasion belore
it had even started, so much the better. It
would be glad news to bring into Pesh
war—by Jove, I might even hint that Td
engineered the whole thing.

And then Yakub Вер voice broke
on my daydream

“Who shall say there is such a thing as
chance?” he was exulting. “АП is as God
directs. He sends the Ruski powder ships.
He sends the means of their destruction.
And"—he reached out to pass me my
coffee cup—"best of all, He sends you.
blood brother, without whom all would
be nought.

You m:
slow on the uptake
seen the danger

y think that until now I'd been
that 1 should have
il as soon аз this |
marc m greve rockets, But
Id been so taken aback by the scheme
so fixed in my mind that I had

а douche of cold water.
y collec cup.
Noughiz"

I echoed. "What d'you

mear
Who among us would have the skill оғ
knowledge to make use of these rockets of

yours?” says he. "I said you were sent by
God. A British officer, who knows how
these th
sure success where our bungling fingers
would”

“You mean you expect me to fire these
bloody things for you? Look, Yakub Beg
—I'm sorry. but it cannot be. You know
1 must go to India, to carry the news of
this Russ ... this army. ...

ss are employed, who can сі

he contentedly. “We will see to t

“But if we—you—I mean. i
I aied.
it's nor t
you—1 would i
I were killed

it doesn't
1 take the risk! I
t wish to help
I could. of course. Bur if
nd the Russians marched

"Stop worrying, Rodney—there are times when a stutter can
Je avery attractive impediment.”

PLAYBOY

234

7... And over here, a little-known event in
American history took place.”

spite of your idiotic—I mean, your €
g scheme—they would catch my people
prepared!”

“Rest assured,” says he, “the news w
go to Peshawar. 1 pledge my honour, just
as I pledge my people to fight these Ru
kis tooth and nail from here to the Killer-
of Hindus. But we will stop them here” —
and he struck the ground beside him. "T
г soldiers in India will
he prepared for a blow that never comes.
For we will not . The Silk One's pl
is sound. Is she not the majid?” And the
grinning ape bowed again in her direc-
tion, pleased as Punch.

By George, this was desperate. I did
know what to say. He was bent on drag-
ging me into certain destruction and I
had to weasel out somehow—but, at the
same time, I Өлгені let them see the
truth, which w that the whole mad
scheme terrified me out of my wits. That
might well be fatal—you've no idea wi
those folk are like 1 if Yakub Beg
thought E was letting him down . . . well,
one thing I could be sure of: There'd be
no excursion train ordered up to take me
to the coral strand in à hurry.

Yakub, my friend,” s J, “think but
a momen. 1 would ask nothing better
п то ride with you and Kutebar on this
- I have my own score to settle with
these Ruski pigs believe me. And if I
could add опе asper in the scale of suc-
cess, I would be with you heart and soul.
But I am no artilleryman. I know some-
thing of these rockets but nothing to the
pose. Any fool can aim them and
fire them—Kutebar can do it as
he breaks wind"——that got them laughing,

I intended it should. "And I have my
duty, which is to country. 1, and I
alone, must e ih
would be believed? Don
may do this thing without me?
“Not as surely,” says he. "How could
we? An antilleryman you may not be. but
you are a soldier, with those little skills
that mean the difference between success
and failure. You know this—and think,
blood brother, whether we stand or fall,
when those ships flame like the rising sun
and sink into destruction, we will have
the threat 10 your Tolk and
€ that w
singe the Kremlin wall! By God, what a
dawn that will bel"
sat pretty quiet, fev

news—who else

you see—you

shattered

ishly trying to

where. The others got down to the de-
s of the business and T had 10 take
part and try to look happy about it. I
must say, looking back, they had it well
schemed out: They would take 5000 rid
eis, under Yakub and Kuteba
Khan, each commanding
just go hell for leather
four in the morning. dr
nd cutting off the pier. Sahib

lot would secure the northern
flank beyond the pier, facing the Syr
mouth; Yakub would tak

south side, fronting the main beach
their forces would join up a
ward end of the pier, prese
fire and steel against the Russian counier-
attacks. Kutebar's detachment would be
inside the ring, in reserve, and shicld

the firing party—heve they looked at m
with reverent eyes and I managed an off-

grin that any dentist would have
go-

And then, while all hell was breaking
loose round. us, the intrepid. Flashy and
nts would set the infernal things
nd blaze away at the powder ships.

up
And when the great Guy Fawkes explo-

sion occurred—supposing that it did—we
would take to the sea; it was half а mi

across the Syr Daria mouth and К
horrible little person with yel-
low teeth and a squint, who was one of
the council that night—would be waiting
on the other side to cover all who could
ape that w:

1 Толіка about my tent, woi
ning, the camp hummel
round me—you never saw so many
happy faces at the prospect of impendi
dissolution. How many of them would be
alive next day? Not that I cared. —Fd have
seen "em all dead and damned if only 1
could come off safe. My guts were beg
in earnest as the hours wi

ing, next

while

d finally I w: ch a sweat T

id ir any longer. I decided to

go up to the pavi са last shot
at talking some sense into Yakub Beg—l

but if the
worst came to the worst, I might even
chance a flat refusal to have anything то
do with his mad venture and see what he

would do In this desperate
ame of mind. I made my way up
ge, which was quiet with

lown in the camp bel
went through the little archway and |
the screen to the garden—and there w:
alone, sitting by th
her fingers іп tl
mned kinen watch;

water, with that dı

the ripples
In spite of my fearful preoccupations
-which were entirely her fault, in Ше

first place felt the old Adam stir at the
sight of her. She was wearing a close-
fitting white robe with a gokl-embroi-
dered border and her shapely little bare
feet peeping om beneath it; round her
head was the inevitable turban, also of
white. She looked like Scheherazade in
the caliphs garden, and didn't she
know it, just
b is not here,” says she, before
Га even had time to state my business.
ridden out with the others to
th Buzurg Khan: perhaps by eve
g he will have returned." She stroked
Will you wait?"

nd,

pected
wary of this young wom:
while she watched me, smiling with her

n. So I hesirated,

lips closed,
of m
ing, whe
ad
“Why do you suppose such a tall fellow
is so afraid, ster? Can you tell:
No? He would be wise not to let Yakub

ad 1 was just on the point
pology and withdr
ned down to the kitten

Beg know it—for it would be а
shame to the Kush Begi to find fi
his blood brother."

I don't know when I've been taken
aback. I stood as she
her the

astonished
close to

more
went on, with face
kitten's:

“We knew it the first night, at Fort
Raim—you remember 1 told you? We felt
it even in his mouth. And we both saw it,
last night, when Yakub Beg pressed him
into our venture—the others did not, for
he dissembles well, this angliski. But we
knew, you and I, little terror of the Iard-
er. We saw the fear in his eyes when he
tried to persuade them. We see it now."
She picked the kitten up and nuzzled it
against her cheek, "What are we to make
of him, then?"

"Well, Im damned!" I begin
ind took a stride forward, red in the
d stopped.

angry,
says she, pretending to whisper in
the brutes car. “Is that not fine? We have
stirred him to rage, which is one of the
seven forbidden sins he feels against us.
Yes, pretty tiger, he feels another one as
well Which one? Come, little foolish
that is easy—no, why should
he envy us? Ah, you have guessed it, you
wanton of the night walls, you triller in

was

w he is as well as fright

ened,

not envy,

jimai najaiz [illicit love]. Is it not scan-
dalous? But be —we are sale from

him. For does he not fear?

ıt e:

Kutebar was undoubtedly right—this
one should have had the mischief canned.
out of her when she was knee-high. I
and

there, w: doubt,

stood ding, no
trying to think of a anting retort
interrupting a conversation between a
woman and a cat ain't as casy as it m
scem. One tends to lock a fool

“You think it a pity, scourge of the
milk bowls? Well . . . there it is. Hf lech-
ery cannot cust out fear, what then?
at docs he fear, you ask? Oh, so many

but

That is no
so that they do not cross the line
But he fears also

s—death, as all men do.

from ‘will’ to ‘will not."

Yakub Beg is far away and we
alone here, So . .. still he wavers, al-
though desire struggles with fear in him,
Which will triumph, do you suppose? Is
it not exciting, little trollop of the willow
trees? Are your male cats so timorous? Do
they fear even to sit beside you?”
1 wasn't standing for that, anyway
—hesides, I was becoming decidedly in
ame round the fountain and
sat down on the grass. And, damme, the
kitten popped its face round her head
and miaowed at m

terested. 1

She
dled it, turned to look at me out of those
slanting black eyes and returned to her
convers: “Would you protect your
mistress, then? Ayah, it is not necessary

“There, brave little sister!” cud

ion.

—for what will he do? He will gnaw his
lip, while his mouth grows dry with fear
and will think. Oh, such
thoughts—there is no protection against
them, Do you not feel them touching us,
embracing us, enfolding us. burning us
with their passion? Alas, it is only an il-
lusion—and like to remain one,
is his fear.

Ive seduced—and been seduced
some odd ways, but never before with
Kitten pressed into service as pimp. She
was right, of coursc—I was scared, not
only of Yakub Beg but of her: Sh
too much any man's com-
fort. There was something else—but with
that slim white shupe tantalizing me with-
in arm's Jength, and that murmuring
voice, and the drift of her perfume, subtle
and sweet garden flower, 1 didn't
care. 1 reached out—and hesitated, swe:
ing lustlully. My God, I
but

“And now he pants, and trembles, and
fears to touch, my furry sweet. Like the
little boys at the confectioner's stall or a
beardless youth biting his nails outside

desire—he

so great

knew
this one, for

as a

wanted. her

brothel, and he sudi à fine, strong—
nothing of a man. Не"

"Damm you!” roars L "and damn
your Yakub Beg! Come here!”

And I grabbed her round the body, onc
hand on her the other
belly, and pulled her rou
came without resistance,

breast, on her

hly to me. She
her head. back

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PLAYBOY

and those almond eyes looking up at me,
her lips pared; I was shaking as I
Drought my mouth down on them and
pulled the robe from her shoulders, grip-
ping her sharppointed breasts in my
hands. She lay quivering against me for a
moment, and then pulled free. pushi
the kitten gently aside with her foot.
And then she turned towards me, push-
ing me back and down, with her hands on
my chest, and sliding astride of me while
her tongue Шеке my lips
xd then my eyel d cheeks and into
my саг. I grappled her, yammering lust-

fully, as she shrugged off the robe and
ı working nimbly at my girdle—and

no sooner had we set to partners and com-
menced heaving passionately away than
up comes that damned kitten beside my
head and Ko Dali's daughter had to
pause and lift her face to blow at it.

Docs no опе pay heed io
e, selfish little inquisitive!
mistress not liave a
herself with an angliski ng she has
never done before?” And they purred at
cach other while I was go I've

ou, then?

she, which is ai
when you're at grips.

“Never mind telling the blasted cat!"
I roared, straining at her. пт, if
you're going to tell anyone, tell me!

Ah," say sitting h "You are
like the Chinese—you wish to talk as
well? Then here is а topic of conversa-
tion." And she reached up and suddenly
plucked off her
ed

е she

wits, Buddhist monk, staring
mischievously down at me.

zool God!" I croaked. "You're
bald!”

“Did you not know? It is my vow. Does

God, d and fell to
again with a will, bur every time I became
properly engrossed, she would stop to
chide the cat, which kept loafing round
i with
uty squirming
wart my hawse. as the sailors say. and
nothing to be done sati
had left off
work, And once she nearly unmanned me
completely by stopping short, glancing
up and crying, “Yakub!” and I let out a
frantic yelp and near as anything heaved
lier into the fountain as 1 strained. my
head round to look at the archway and
see—nath I could remon-
strate or swipe her head off, she was wr
ng and plunging away
with her eyes half-cosed,
for a wonder, the thing went on uninter-
rupted until we were lying gasping and
isted.
tly she got up and went off, re-
turning with a little tray on which there
were cups of sherbet and two big bowls

235 of kefir—just the thing after а hot en-

counter, when you're feeling well and
contented, and wondering vaguely wheth-
сг you ought not to slide out before the
of the house comes back, and decid-
ing the devil with him. It was good kel-
ir, too—strangely sweet, with a musky
I couldn't place, and as 1
spooned it down gratefully, she sat watch-
ing me, with those mysterious dark eyes,
1d murmuring to her ki
with her fingers.
capital kefir, this,”
round ihe bowl.
She gave me another helping
on whispering to the cat

him to make love? Oh, such a question!
Because of his fine shape and handsome
head, you t nd the promise of a

baz-baz [an indelicate synonym Гог
skered little harlot,
you no blushes? What—bei
fearful and we women know that nothing
so drives out a man's fear as passion and
delight with a beautiful darling? That is
an old wisdom, truc—is it the poet Fir-
dausi who says “The making of life in the
shadow of death is the blissful obliv-
ion
“I call you to witness, curious tiny leop-
d—you and Firdausi both. He is much
braver now—and he is so very strong,
wert

ms and th
like the black djinn in the story of e
Sinbad of the sea—he is no longer safe
with delicate ladies such as we. He might
harm us.” And with that mocking smile,
she went quickly round the fountain,

before I could stop her. "Fell me, an-
gliski,” she said, looking back but not
stopping. “You who speak Persian and

know so much of our conntry—have
you ever heard of the Old Man of the
Mountaii

"No, by Jove, I don't think I ha
says L "Come back and tell me about
him.”

‘After tonight—when
been done,” says she, tea
then I shall tell you."

"But I want to know now.”

“Be content.” says she. “You are a
different man from the fearful. fellow
who came here secking Yakub an hour
ago. Remember the Persian saying: ‘Lick
up the honey, stranger, and ask no
question

And then she was gone, Ic me
grinning foolishly after her and cursing
her perversity in a good-humoured way.
I couldn't account for it, but for some rea
son, 1 felt full of buck and appetite and
great good humour, and I couldn't eve
remember feeling doubts or fears or any-
thing much—of course, 1 knew there was
nothing like a good lively female for put-
ting а chap in trim, as her man Firdausi
had apparently pointed ош. Clever lads,
these Persian poets.
ig back down to the valley,
“Ahunting we will go." if T
nd was just in time to

the work has

ng. "Perhaps

sce Yakub and Kutebar return from their
mecting with Buzurg Khan in a fine rage:
‘The overlord had refused to risk any of
his people in what he, the shirking recre-
it, regarded аз а lost hope. 1 couldn't be
eve such poltroonery myself, and said
so, loudly. But there it was: The business
was up to us and our 5000 sabres, and
when Yakub jumped onto a pile of camel
bales in the valley market and told the
mob it was do or die by themselves for the
honour of Old Khokand, and explained
how we were going to assault the beach
that night and blow up the powder ships,
the whole splendid crowd тозе to him

a man. There was just a sea of faces, yel-
nd brown, sliteyed and hook-nosed,
bald-p: d scalp-locked or turbaned
y. all yelling and ad
ing their sabres, with Ш
its cracking olf their р
their ponies round the outskirts of the
crowd in an cestasy of excitement, chu
ing up the dust and whooping likc
Arapaho.

And when Kutebar, to a storm of ap-
plause, took his place beside Yakub and
thundered in his huge voice: “North,
south, cast and west—where shall you find
the Kirghiz? By the silver hand of Alex:
der, ihey
exploded in wild cheering and
crowded round the two leaders, prom

ng ten Russian dead for every one of
and I thought, why not give "еш a
bit of civilized comfort, too, so J jumped
up myself, roaring, "Hear, hear!" and
when they stopped to listen, 1 gave it to
them, su

“That's
them, "I second what these two fine asso-
ciates of mine have told you and have
only this to add. We're going to blow
these bloody Russians from hell to Hud-
dersfield—and I'm the chap who can do
it, let me tell you! So I shall detain you
no longer, my good friends—and Так,
and niggers, and what no
you to be upstanding and give a rousing
British cheer for the honour of the 4

re here!” the whole place
they

old schoolhouse—hip. hip, hip. hurrah
And didn't they cheer, too? Best speech
aking, and

I ever made, 1 remember thi
Yakub clapped me on the bac
all over, and said by the b
hammed, if we had proposed a m
Moscow, every man jack would have be
in his saddle that minute, riding west.
So I got my crew together—and Ko
Dali's daughter was there, too, lovely girl
and so attentive, all in black now, shirt,
pyjamas, boots and turban, very business-
like. And J lectured them about Ce
greves—it was remarkable how well 1
remembered cach detail about a
the firing frame and 1
justing the г;
the es
ting and exclaim
you could
the kind to
ety for thei

nd everythin,

cellent fellows took it all in, spit

tement, and
y weren't
et elected to the Royal Soci
mechan ude, their

“Ву George, Agatha, that was even better than I remembered."

237

PLAYBOY

238

hearts were in the right place, I tried to
get Ko Dali's daughter aside afterwards
for some spec 1uction, but she ex-
cused herself, so I went off to the grind-
stone merchant to get a sabre sharpened
and got Kutebar to find me a few rounds
for my German revolve

“The only thing that irks me," I told
him, “is that we are going to be stuck in
some stully godown, blazing away with
rockets, while Yakub and the others have
got the best of the evening, Dammit,
Izzat, Y want to put this steel across а few
Ruski necks—there’s а walleyed rascal
called Ignatieff, now, have I told you
about him? Two rounds from this
popgun into his midriff, and then a foot
of sabre through his throat—that's all
he need.

I didn't know when I'd felt so blood-
lusty, and it got worse as the evening wore
on. By the time we saddled up, I was full
of hate ара e who was
Ignatielf in a Cossack hat with the tsar's
eagle across the front of his shirt: I want

ed to settle him, gorily and painfully, and
all the way on our ride across the Kizil
Kum in the gathering dark, I was dream-
ing finc nightmares in which I des
patched him. But from time to time I felt
quite jolly, too, and sang a few snatches of
The Leather Bottel and John Peel and
other popular favourites, while the riders
grinned and nudged cach other.

It took а good hou:
bring all the riders quietly into the safety
of the scrubby wood that lies a bare half
mile from Fort Raim, each man holding
his horse's nostrils or blanketing its head,
while I fidgeted with impatience. Yakub
Beg emerged out of the shadows, very
brave in spiked helmet and red cloak, to
say that we should move when the moon
hid behind the cloud bank.

And then Yakub was calling softly into
the dark: “In the name of God and the
Son of God! Kirghiz, Uzbek, Tajik, Kal
muk, Tu ember Ak Mecher!

k to

re

The morning rides behind us!” And he
made that strange, moaning Khokand

“Work shirts,
work pants, socks, underwear

and, on top of it all, panties, slips, bras

blouses

and dresses—I'm telling you, Elaine, it’s a lot
of extra work being married to
a transvestite.”

wh a great rumbling growl
and a drumming of hooves the whole
horde went surging forward beneath the
trees and out onto the empty steppe to-
wards Fort Raim.

1f I'd been a sentry on those walls I'd
have had apoplexy. One moment an
empty steppe and the next it was thick
with mounted men, pouring down on the
fort; we must have covered quarter of a
mile before the fist shot cracked, and
then we were tearing at full tilt towards
the gap between fort and river, with the
shouts of alarm sounding from the walls
p. and then with
one voice the yell of the ghazi war cry
burst from the п faa
was crying. у 5000
mad creatures thundering down the long
slope with the glittering sca far ahead,
1 the ships riding silent and huge on
the water, and onto the cluttered beach
with men scatter c as we swept
in among the great piles of bales, sabring
and shooting, leaping crazily in the
gloom over the boxes and low shelters.
Yakub's contingent streaming out to the
left among the sheds and godowns, while
our party and Sahib Khan's drove lor
the pier

1 was in capital feule as 1 strode i
the godown, which was full of half naked
natives with torches
excitement.
vow, then, my likely lads,
“where are those Congreves, ch
ive, boys, we haven't got all

‚ O slayer of thou-
ijs someone, and there, sure
enough, was a huge pile of boxes, and in
the smoky torchlight I could sce the
broad arrow and make out the old famil-
iar lettering on them: ROYAL SMALL ARMS
FACYORY. HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE.
EXPLOSIVES. DANGER, THIS SIDE UP.

“And how the deuce did this lot get
here, «Гуе suppose?" says I to Kutebar
“Depend upon it, some greasy bastard i
Birmingham with a pocketful of dollars
could tell us. Righto, you fellows, break
‘em out, break ‘em out!” And as they
set to with a will, I gave them another
chorus of John Peel and strode to the sc
ıd of the godown, which of course was
ind surveyed the bay.
daughter was at my elbow,
with a chattering nigger pointing out
which ship was which. There were
steamers, the farther one being the Obs
chel, three vessels with masts, of which
the Mikhail was farthest north, and
ketch, all riding under the moon on the
glassy sea, pretty as paint.

з the ticket for soup!" says 1
“We'll have ‘em sunk in half a jiffy. How
arc you, my dear—I say, that's a fetch
rig you're wearing!
squeeze for luck, bı

‘Then I strod

the fir

two

among the toilers, saw
g [rame broken from its crate and

showed them where to position it, at the
very lip of the godown, just above the
small boats and. barges which were rock-
g gently at their moorings on the water
six leet below our feet.

Putting up the frame was simple—it's
just an iron fence, you see, with supports
both sides and half-pipes running from
the ground behind to the top of the
fence, to take the rockets. I've never
nown my fingers so nimble as I tight-
ened the screws and adjusted the halt-
pipes im their sockets; everyone else
ned slow by comparison, and I cursed
good-naturedly and finally left Ko
uglier to see to the final adjust-
e 1 went off to examine the

ments whi
rocke

They had them broken out by now, the
dulkgrey three-foot metal cylinders with
their conical heads—I swore when 1 saw
that, as Dd feared, they were the old
pattern, without fins and needing the 15
foot sticks.? Sure enough, there were the

sticks, in long canvas bundles; I called
for one and set to work to fit it into a
rocket head, but the thing was corroded
to blazes.

Now blast these Brummagem vob-
hers!" cries 1. “This is too bad—sce how
British workmanship gets a bad name! Ac
this rate, the Yankees will be streets ahead
of us. Break out another box!"

It was a fine, sweaty confusion in the
godown as they dragged the rockets down
to the firing frame, and I egged ‘em on
and showed them how to lay a rocket in
the half-pipe. No corrosion there, thank
God. I noted, and the Silk Опе fairly
twitched with impatience—strange. girl,
she was. tense as a telegraph wire at mo-
ments like this but all composure when
she was at home—while I lectured her on
the importance of unrusted surfaces, so
that the rockets flew straight.

“In God's name, angliski!
"Let us be about it!
yonder, with enough
blow the Aral dry-
cn, let us fire on her

“АП right, old fellow,

cries Kute-
bar.

ays L “Let's

е

The military vockels devised by Sir
William Congreve were used in the War
of 1812, and those described by Flashman
were obviously similar to this early pat-
tern, which continued in use for many
усал. The 32 sa gi
gantic skyrocket, consisting of an. iron
cylinder four inches in diameter and over
а yard long, packed with powder and at-
tached to a 15-foot stick. It was fired from
a slanting trough or tube and travelled
with a tremendous noise and a great trail
of smoke and sparks, exploding on im pact.
Although they could. fly two miles, the
rockets were extremely erratic, and
throughout the first half of the 19th Cen-
tury, frequent modifications were made,
including William Hale's spinning rocket
and the grooved and finned rocket, which
could be fired without a stic

pound Congreve

how we stand." I squinted along the h
pipe, which was at full elevation. "Give
us a box beneath the pipe, to lift hei
So—steady.” 1 adjusted the range screw,
ud now the great conical head of the
rocket was pointing just over her main
mast. "That's about it. Right, give me a
slow match, someone.

“Stand dear, boys and girls,” I sang
out. “Papa's going to light the blue touch
paper and retire immediately!” And іп
that instant before 1 touched the march
to the firing vent, I had а sudden v
memory of November the fifth, with the
frosty ground and the dark, and little
giggling and the girls
ind the red eye of the
rocket smouldering in the black, and the
white fizz of sparks, and the chorus of ad-
ool and aahs as the rocket burst
overhead —and it was something like tl
1 you like. except that here the fiz
locomotive funnel belching
ng the godown with acid,
reeking smoke, while the firing Пате
shuddered, then with an almighty
whoosh 1 express tearing by, the
Congreve went rushing away into the
night, clouds of smoke and fire gushing
nd the boys and girls c
nt? and “Istagi
skidded nimbly aside, roaring,
Take that, you sons of bitches!” And
we all stood gaping as it soared into the
night like a comet, reached the top of its
. dipped towards the Mikhail—and
vanished miles on the wrong side of h

“Bad luck, dammit! Hard lines! Right,
you fellows, lets ha "And
Jaughing heartily, I had another box
shoved under the pipe to level it out. We
let Пу again, bui this time the rocket must

now,

Pay

nother

have been faulty, for it swerved away cra-
zily into the night, weaving to and fro |
fore plunging into the water a bare 300
yards out with a tremendous hi
cloud of steam. We tried three more
all [ell short, so we adjusted the ra.
slightly and the sixth rocket flew stra
nd true, like a great scarlet Lance search-
ing for its target: we watched it pass be-
tween the masts of Ше Mikhail and
howled with disappointment. But now
Jest we bad the range, so 1 ordered all
the pipes loaded and we touched off the
whole battery at once.

Te was indescribable and great fun
—like a volcano erupting under your
feet, and a dense choking fog filling the
godown: the men clinging to steady the
firing frame were almost torn from their
feet. the rush of the launching Congreves
ng and for a moment we were
g about, weeping and cough
ing in that filthy smoke. lr was a full
minute before the reek had cleared sul-
ficiently to sce how our shots had fared.
and then Kutebar was flinging himselt
into the air and rushing to embrace me.

The Mikhail was hit!
ball of fire dinging to her timbers just
below the rail amidships. and eve
we watched, there was a climbing lick of
flame—and over to the right, by some
freakish chance, the ketch had been hit,
100: There was a fire on her deck and she
was sluing round at anchor. АЙ about
me they were dancing and yelling and
clapping hands, like schoolgirls when
Popular Penclope has won the sew
prize.

“We have hit one. angliski—it is time
for the other.” Silk One rapped it out and
Twas aware that her face was strained and

Пісте was а red

238

PLAYBOY

240

her eyes seemed to be searching mine
iously, “There is no time to waste—listen
to Ше firing! In a [ew moments they
will have broken through Yakub's linc
d be upon us!”

You know, I'd been so taken up with
our target practise, I'd almost forgotten
about the fighting that was going on out-
side. But she was right; it was fiercer than
ever and getting close

Perhaps we'd been lucky with the М
khail, but 1 fired 20 single rockets at the
Obruchelf and never came near enough
to singe her cable—they snaked over her,
or flew wide, or hit the water short, until
the smoky trails of their passing blended
into a fine mist across the bay; the go-
down was scorching inferno of choking
smoke in which we shouted and swore
hoarsely as we wrestled sticks and canis-
ters into pipes that were so hot we had to
douse them with water after every shot.
My good humour didn't survive the 20th
miss: 1 raged and swore and kicked the
nearest nigger—I was aware, too, that as
we laboured, the sounds of battle outside
were drawing closer still, and I was in
half a mind to leave these infernal rockets
that wouldn't fly straight and. pitch into
the fighting on the beach. It was like hell,
outside and in, and to add to my fury, one
of the ships in the bay was firing at us
now; the pillar of cloud from the godown
must have made а perfect target, and the
rocket trails had long since advertised to
everyone on that beach exactly what was

going on. "Ehe smack of musket balls on
the roof and walls was continuous—al-
though I didn't know it then, detach-
ments of Russian cavalry had tried three
times to drive through the lumbered
beach in phalan h the godown
and silence us, and Yakub's riders had
halted them cach time with desperate
courage. The ring round our position was
] the time as the Khokand-

sea pitched right in front of the godown,
showering us with spray; another howled

overhead like a banshee and a
shed into the pier alongside ш
Damn you!" 1 roared, shaking my

бы. “Come ashore, you swine, and ГЇЇ
show you!" 1 seemed to be seeing every-
thing through a red mist, with a terrible,
consuming rage swelling up inside me; 1
was swearing incoherently, I know, as w
dragged another rocket into the recking
pipe: halfblinded with smoke and sweat
and fury, I touched it off, and this time
seemed to drop just short of the Obru-
п, by God. T saw that the
as moving; they must have got
steam up in hı t, and she was vecr-
ing round slowly, her stern wheel churn-
ing as she prepared to draw out from
the shore.
owardly

" I hollered, “Turn

asc;

1 flung myself among them as they hauled

“I don't usually do this sort of thing on the first date.”

up five rockets—one of "em was still half
off its stick, I remember, with а litle
nigger still wrestling to fix it home eve
as the man with the match was touching
the fuse. I crammed the burning rem
of my match against а vent, and even
the trail of sparks shot out, the whole go-
down seemed to stand on end. I felt my-
self falling; something hit me a gre
crack on the head and my ears were full
ding that went on and on until
the pain of it scemed to be bursting my
kness came.

brain before bl.

I've reckoned since that T must have
been unconscious for only a few minutes.
but for all I knew when I opened my eyes.
it might have been hours, What had hap-
pened was that a cannon shot had hit the
godown rool just as the rockets went olf,
and a falling slat had knocked me end-
ways; when I came to, the first thing I saw
was the firing frame in ruins, with a beam
across it, and 1 remember thinking, ah,
well, по more Guy Fawkes night until
next year. Beyond it, through the smoke,
I could see the Mikhail burning quite
nicely now, but not exploding, which
thought strange; the ketch was well alight,
100, but the Obrucheff was under way,
with smoke pouring from her funnel and
her wheel thrashing gr 3
Bur the strangest thing was that my
head seemed to have floated loose from
my shoulders and J couldn't seem to focus
properly on things round me, The great
berserk rage that had possessed me only a
moment since seemed to have gone and I
felt quite tranquil and di it wasn't
unpleasant, really, for 1 felt that nothing
much mattered and there was no p:
anxiety, or even inclination 10 do
thing but just lie there, resting body
n together.

And then Yakub Beg was there, his hel
met gone, one arm limp with а great
bloodicd gash near the shoulder and a
naked sabre in his good hand. Strange,
thinks I, you ought to he out on the
i: what the deuce
way!” he was
shouting. take to the water!
And he dropped his sabre and took Ko
5 daughter by the shoulder. “Qu
is done! They have
driven us in! Swim for it, beloved —and
Kutebar! Get them into the sea, Izzat!
There are only moments left! Sahib Khan
сап hold them with als—but
only for minutes. Get you gone—and take
the Englishman. Do as I tell you."

She didn't hesitate, but rose, and two of
the others half-dra ed me
to the mouth of the godown. I was so
dazed 1 don't think it even crossed my
mind that 1 was in no case to swim; it
didn't matter, anyway, for some clever
lads were cutting loose the lighter that
swung under the edge of the godown and
men were tumbling into it. I caught a
glimpse of a swirl ss of figures at
the doors and I think 1 even made out a

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Cossack, laying about him with a sabre.
before someone tumbled down on top of
me and knocked me flat on the floor of
the lighter,

Somehow they must have poled the
thing oll. lor when I had recovered my
bicath. and pulled myself up to the low
gunwale, we were about 20 yards from the
godown and d way from the pi
as the eddy from the river mouth, 1 sup
pose, caught the lighter and rugged it
out to sca. 1 had only a momentary sight
of the interior of the godown, looking for

I the world like a mine shaft, with ıl

then I

liant light. suddenly
glow its floor, growing in intensity.
id then the rush-rush.
greves as the Hames from the burning
wall reached. them, and T just had sense
enough to duck my head below the gun-

ıgely enough,
ol explosion, just
g noie of a huge whirlwind.
There were screams and oaths from the
lighter all round me, but when 1 raised
my head, there was just one huge flame
where the godown had been, and the pier
beside it was burning at its landward end,
and the glare was so fierce that beyond
there was nothing to be seen.

1 just lay. with my cheek on th

ап,

wondering if the eddy would carry us out
of range before they sta
aking how c:

rted shootin;
d ih m and pleasant
was to be drifting along there, after all
the hellish work in the godown. I sudden-
ly became aware that Ko Dali's daughter
was crouched down beside me at the
gunwale, staring back, and people were
pressed close about us, and I thought, this
is a splendid opportunity to squeeze that
lovely little rump of hers. There it was,
just nicely curved within a foot of me, зо
1 took nd kneaded away con-
tentedly,

handful
and she never even noticed—or,
if she did, she didn't mind. But L think

she маз

preoccupied with the inferno
we had left behind us; so were die others,
craning s we drifted о
the dark water. It’s queer, but in my
memory that dr
seems to have gone on for the deuce of a
long time.
Yakub Beg was

d mı

ting and bum fondling

ing that the Mikhail
was burning to a wreck but the Obruchelt
haul got away, зо our work was ошу hall
done, but better half-done Шап not done
1, when pat on his words the sun
was suddenly in the sky—or so it s
for the whole plac ter, the sea
round and the sky itself, was suddenly as
bright as day, and it seemed to me that
the lighter was no longer. drifting but
racing over the water, and then came the
most tremendous. thunder sh of

med,

the 1

h the deafening boom of it,
put up my hands по m:

Shut out the pain, I heard Kutchar’s f

c yell: “The Obruchell! She has gone
—gone to the pit of damnation! Now
whose work is halfdone? Ву God!—it
is done, it is done, it is done! A thou
ind times done! ub—is it not
done? Now the praise to Him and to the
forcign professors!

More than 2000 Khokandians were
Killed in the battle of Fort Raim, which
shows you what a clever lad Buzurg Khan
was to keep out of it. The rest escaped,
some by cutting their way eastwards off
the beach, some by swimming the Syr

mouth and a favoured few tr
ling in style, by boat and lighter. How
y Russians died, no one knows, but
kub Beg later estimated about 3000. So
good deal bigger than many bat
tles that are household words, but it hap-
pened a long way away and the Russians
doubtless tried to forget it, so I suppose
only the Khokandians remember it now.

Jt achieved their purpose, anyhow, for
it destroyed the Rusian munition ships
and prevented the army marching dh
year. Which saved British India for
long as I've lived—and preserved Kho.
kand's freedom for a few years more, be
fore the tsar's soldiers id stamped
it flat in the Sixties. I imagine the Kho:
kandians thought the respite was worth
while and the 2000 lives well lost—w!
2000 would say, of course, is another
matter, but since they went to fight of

ir own free will (so far as any soldier

as

ever does), I suppose they would support
the majority
Myself, 1 anged my opini

ince I came back to my senses two days
fterwards, back in the valley іп Kizil
Kum. I remember noth
being hauled from the
rah's rescue party, or of the jour
through the desert, for by th
in the finest hallucinatory deli nce
the first Reform Bill, and I cime out of
it gradually and painfully. The terrible
thing was that I remembered the battle
ly and my own inaedible be
Г knew ГА gone bawling about
like a viking in d ing sorrow and
raving heroically in murderous rage—but
I couldn't for the life of me und
why. It had been utterly
instinct and. judgement—and 1 knew it
hadn't been booze, because 1 hadn't had
any, and anyway, the liquor hasn't been
distilled that cin make me oblivious of
sel. preserve ppalled me, for
what security does a rightahinking cow
ard have, if he loses his sense of panic?

At first 1 thought my memory ol that

nights work must be playing me false,
but the admiring congratulations 1 got
from Yakub Beg and Kutebar (who called

me “Ghazi,” of all things) soon put paid
10 that notion, So I must have been tem-
y deranged—but why? The obvi-
ous explanation, for some reason, never
yet I knew Ko

porar

occurred. to me—and

Dali's daughter was at the bouom of
somehow, so I sought her out first thing
when E had emerged weak and shaky from
my brief convalescence.

“You remember I spoke to you about
the Old Man of the Mountain, of whom
you had never heard?” she asked.

What's he got to do with me rushi
about like a lunatic?”

“He lived many years ago,
beyond the Two Seas and the
ert He was the
ing men—the hasheesheen—who nerved
themselves to murder and die by drinki
the hasheesh drug—what the Indians call
bhang. It is prep ays, for
many purposes—it сап be so concocted
that it will drive a man to any lengths of
hatred and courage—and other passions.”

And she said it as calm as a virgin dis
cussing flower arrangement, sitting there
gravely cross-legged on a charpai [bed
platform] in a corner of her garden, with
her vile kitten gorging itself on а sau
cer of milk beside her. I stared at her
stounded.

“The hashceshe

Me
i
infernal

“Tt was шу.

‘Drink, lite tiger, there is more il you
need it.

“But - . . but 1 was almost gob-
bling. “What the devil forz"

“Be
kuew, from the mom

Ruse you were afraid. Because 1
t I first saw you,
ules you and that, in the test, it
ter you." She suddenly
. showing those pretty teeth
You are sometimes an honest man, an-
gliski! Is he not, puss? And he would be
wrong to rage and abuse us—for is he not
alive? And if he had turned coward,
where would he have been:

A sound argument, as Гус realized
since, but it didn't do much to quieren
me just then. I detested her in that mo-

ment, as only a coward can when he hears
the truth 10 his face
"Stop talking to the blasted cat!

Speak plain, can't you?

“If it pleases you. Listen, angliski, | do
not mock—uow—and I do not seek 10
put shame on you. It ar-
ful, any more than it is a sin to be onc-
АП men fe

5 The secret society of Assassins, found-
ed in Persia in the Tth Century by Ha-
san. ibn-al-Sabbah, the Old Man of the
Mountain, were notorious for their poli
cy of secret murder and their addic
tion to the hashish drug from which they
look their name, At their height, they
operated from hill strongholds, mostly in
Persia and Syria, and were active against
the Crusaders before being dispersed
hy the Mongol invasion of Hulagu Khan
іп the 13 Century. Traces of the
exist today in the Middle East

red.

legged or redd

sei

“Oh, Brother Johnston, whither goest thou?"

243

PLAYBOY

244

ub and Kutebar and all of them. To
conquer fear, some need love, and some
hate. and some greed, and some even
—hasheesh. I understand your anger—
but. consider, is it not all lor the best?
You are here, which is what matters most
10 you—and no one but I knows what

fears are in your heart. And that I knew
from the beginning, "she smiled. and

I remember it still as а w
curse her— "Lick up the honey, stra
nd ask no questions.
And that was all 1 could get from her
—but somewhere in it I detected a tiny
mite of consolation. I've got my pride in
one direction, you know—or had then. So
before 1 left her. 1 asked the question:
“Why d ing love
to you?

“Call that a drug. too. if you will—to
make certain you ate my kefir.”

“Just that, eh? Lot of trouble you Chi-
nese girls go to.

She laughed aloud at that and gave a
lide pout. “And I had never met
gliski before, you remember. Say 1 was
ous.”

ning smile,
wer.

41 you goad me into n

n an-

cu

I ask if your curiosity

was

shed?
Аһ, you ask too much, anglisk
is one tale I tell only to my kitten."

Still. T had no cause for complaint once
ГА recovered from the shock of realizing
Га fought that do-or-die action by means
of a bellyful of some disgusting Orienial
. And, now that the danger was
nd T was safe out of the Russia
reach. 1 didn't think 100 long about the
matter. I began 10 wonder whether the
war in the Crimea was over, whether
with luck—Cardigan had. got himself
killed. I thought of going home to my
beautiful, blonde Elspeth, who could be
relied o

not i0 lace my kidneys and
h opium. Decidedly, 1 must get
ck to civilisation as soc
Yakub Beg was deuced good about it
4, alter a tremendous feast of celebra
tion in the Kizil Kum valley, we set ош
for Khiva, where he was moving his folk
t of reach from Russian reprisals, From
there we went cast to Samarkand, where
1 promised to arrange for some
to convey me over

bacon wi
1

s possible

“Wow! Where did you learn to resuscitate?”

s. through Afghanistan te

nc
the huge turquoise walls of one of the big-
gest mosques in the world, and in the
morning they rode out with me and my
iude way on the souther
road. It was thronged with folk —bustling
crowds of Uzbeks in their black caps, and
big-nosed hillmen with their crafty faces.
and veiled women, and long lines of
camels with their jingling bells shulllin
up the yellow dust, and porters staggering
under great bales, and children. under-
foot, and everywhere the babbling of 20
different languages. Yakub and ] were
riding ahead, talking, and we stopped at a
little river running under the road to
water our beasts,

The stream of Seeah," says Yakub,
laughing. “Did I say the Ruskis would
water their horses in it this autumn? 1
was wrong—thanks to you—and to my
silk girl and Kutebar and the others.
They will not come yet, to spoil all
this’—and he gestured round at the
crowds sir эт come at all, if
they do—well. there
still Kashgar and a free place іп the
hills.”

There the wicked cease from trou
bling,” ch.” says 1, because it seemed
appropriate.

“Is that an En

“I think it's a hymn.” If I remember
rightly, we used to sing it in chapel at
Rugby before the miscreants of the day
got logged.

“AIL holy songs are made of dreams,
says he. “And this is a great place for
uch as minc. You know where
Englishman?” He pointed along
the dusty track, which wound in and out
of the little sand hills, and then ran like a
yellow ribbon across the plain belor
forked towards the great white barrier of
the Afghan mountains. “This is the
Pathway of Expectation, as the hill
people say, where you may realize your
hopes just by hoping them. The Cl
call it the Baghdad Highway and
Persians and Hindus know it as the Silk
Trail. but we call it the Golden Road.
And he quoted a verse which, with con
siderable trouble, I've turned into rhym
ng English:

new escort a

ish saying he asked.

dreams,

we ar

сэс

the

To learn the age-old lesson day by
da

Wis not in
planned,

Bul in the dicams men dream along

the bright arrival

the way,

They find the Golden Road to

Samarkand.

Very pretty,” says L “Make it up
yourself?"

He laughed, "No—its an old song

perhaps Firdausi or Omar, Anyway. il
will take me to Kashgar—if 1 live long

But here are the other, and here
guest, sent

y hand

enou
we say farewell. You were
to me from heaven; touch upon
in parting.”

So we shook
rived and Kutet
the shoulders in his
showing:
—and my compliments 10 the scientists
and doctors in Шайман" And Ko Dali's
approached demurely to give
me the gift of her scarf and kiss me gently
on the Tips—and just for an instant the
mînxîs tongue was halfway down my

and then the others ar-
was gripping me by

"Cod be

h you, F

throat before she withdrew, looking like
Saint Cecilia.
And then they were thundering away

1. oaks Ily-
е saddle

back on the Samarkand ro:
ing. and Kutebar turning

ive mea wave and a roar. And it's odd
but lor à moment I felt lonely and won-
dered if I1 should miss em. It was
a deeply feli sentimental mood. which

sted for
1 ha

It was strange, though, to go back into
Maghanistan wid my
heaven knows where Yakub had got “em
from, but one look at their wolfish Laces
and welEstulled cartridge belts reassured
we that one party Шаг no
rightminded budmash would dream ol
acking. It took us a week over the
Hindu-killer and another couple of days
through the hills to Kabul

From there we went on to the Khyber

id the winding road down to Peshawar,
where I said goodbye ro my escort and
rode under the arch where Avi
10 hang the Gilzai. and so into the pre
ence of a young whippersnapper of
company ensign.

“А very good dix to you. old boy
Flashman.”
a fishy-uoking. fresh young lad
led at

t least a quarter ol a second
never returned, m happy to зау

again, escort-

this was

bile used

says

d he gogg

“Serge he squeaks. “What's this
инст doing on the ol

For b was attired à da

fice verand

Kizil Kum still. in doak and py and
puggarce, with a big beard.

Not at all” sayy 1 allably. “I'm Eng-
lish—a British offer. ін fact Name
ol Flasl Colonel Flash Sev

teenth Lancers, but slightly derached tor

the moment Гус just come from—up
yonder. at ¢ il expense
and ГА like t0 see someone in authority
Your commanding othcer will do."
“Ws а madman!” cies he. "Sergi
stand by?
And would you believe it, it took me
ім

throw me into the lockup.

siderable perso

ill an hour before I ca

wot t
peevish- looking
nodding insitably while I
LI was.

“You've

summoned a
who listened.
explained who and wh

“Very good.” says he
froin Afghanistan?

come

By way of Mehanistn. ves. Bur—'
"Very good. This is a customs. post,
among other things. Have you anything

to declare?”

APPENDIX

Yakub Beg and Izzat Kutebar

Yakub (Yakoob) Be
greatest chief in С

who became the
the

nal and

imperialism, was born in Piskent in 120.
He was one of the Persian-Tajik people
and claimed to bea descendant of Tamer
lane the Great (Timur). Flashman's de
scription of him corresponds closely to the

tion of Ieatures recently made
тигу skull by the Russian expert

Mikhail Gerasimoy

1n 1815. Yakub became ch:
the Khan of Khokand, and then Pai
Bashi (commander of 500). He w
Kush Begi (military commanders
governor of Ak Месе, an. important
lortress on the Syr Daria, in 1847, and in
the same year married a girl hom Julek
a river town; she is described as “a Кір
diak lady of the Golden Horde.” Yakub
in raiding the new Russian
outposts on the Aral coast. and alter the
Tall of Ak Mechet in 1852, he made stren
uous efforts to retake it from the Rus
sians. without success.

After the Rusian invasion, Yakub
eventually turned. his attention 10 mak
tg hi own sune in Kashgar. In 1565
ider in chief to the decadent
g Rham, he took Kash
posesed his own overlord and assumed
the throne himsell as Amir and. Athalik
Ghazi: in this same year, he married “the
heautilul daughter of Ko Dali, an officer
in the Chinese army," by whom he had
several children.

As ruler of Kashgar and East Turke-
Yakub Beg was the most powerful
ch of Central Asia ined a
enemy of Russia and a close friend
of the British, whose envoys were received
in Kashgar, where a British-Kashgari
commercial treaty was conduded in 1871
(See D. С. Boulger's Life af Yakoob Beg

Teconstrü
kom 1
lessa

was active

comm:
^

He rem

zat Kutcbar, bri;

wd. rebel and guei
villa leader. w

іш INOU. He
caravan in 18:

first

robbed the B
nd was at his hi

raider and scourge of the Russians in
the 1840) They eventually persuaded
him to suspend his bandit activities and
rewarded him with a gold medal, but he
cut loose again in the carly Filties,
captured in 1851, escaped or was rele
ad Lives

ed,
аза rebel in the
ally sur-
ade his

ed a revolt
Ома until I858, when he fi
rendered то Count Igna
peace with Russia

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PLAYBOY

245

TEACHINGS OF DON WOW (continued from page 116)

UWhats a Don
Wow?"

“He tells everybody what's going on at
some kind of sports event, like football.

“Like the lizards that answer my ques-
tions when I sew up their eyelids and
rub them against my temples

No, it’s different, Cosell is not here,
but you can see him. He's not at the foot-
ball game, either, but he can see it just
like you can see him." He then went on to
explain that the fruit Cosell was trying to
cat was what allowed us to hear him. It
is called a
His expla

sports announcer,

ig

ion was so far
y of viewing the world that my mind
rushed to the nearest cliff and jumped olf.

34.00 N by 118.15 W: For a long time
Га been asking Don Wow to teach me
how to work his stereo set. 1 first became
interested. in it when he played a Rod
McKuen record one day while I w
sleeping in the fireplace. I awoke to the
sound of McKuen's voice and was as-
tounded. Then Don Wow explained to
me that Rod McKuen was perhaps the
greatest poct of the 20th Century, that
his power was enormous and. unfathom-
able. My training at that point, however,
was so rudimentary that 1 couldn't even
recognize this power. АШ 1 heard was a
lot of words that seemed to make no
sense, But my interest in learning didu't
flag. When a new Rod McKuen re
called Parking Meter Mind arri
was dying to hear it. However, each

rom my

d, 1
time

this technique, I was

Lasked to be tugi
cbulled.

Finally, we were sitting d prepar-
g to meet with Little Hooch when Don
aid, “Here,” and handed me il
record. “Wow,” I thought. My entire
perception changed from normal halluc
wing to a complete and unmitigated
sense that what I was secing was actually
there: Don Wow's tic, his nincáron tie
ck. the Title ык engraved on the tic
tack, the tiny scratch to the left of the ик,
an outofplace molecule of einsteinium
with a faulty third electron shell right
behind that. My whole mode of secin
as clear as the bright eyes of the white
crow on the day of one’s death

Don Wow went through the arduous
sk of teaching me 10 use the sterco, It
took days for me to master it, putting the
record on, pushing the rower button
adjusting the VotumE and starting the
turntable rolling. Finally, on the third
day, I got it right. Everything somehow
fell into place and the actual sound of
Rod's masculine voice came through. He
said, “I like your brown hair and the
moon." My whole perception changed. I
felt а momentary nausea that immediate:
ly went away and turned into a sicken
feeling in my stomach. Then that went
away and I threw up all over the sterco
set. The nest th

ro

I remember is Don
ad a lot to learn. I was
credibly proud of my achievemei
with the sterco,

Wow telling me I h

"I'm delighted to hear you're not balling our secretary,
Haskins. You can fire her.”

The Usual Information: As time
passed, I came closer and closer to follow-
ing Don Wow' rigorous path. I e
changed my native diess for
Brothers suits and learned to м:
shoes on concrete sidewalks. I had
begun dreaming strange and wondrous
dreams. Tech-Sym stock soared into the
10s on the American in one dream. But
the demands of this life style began to
take their toll. One night I dreamed of
dancing the funky chicken with a beau-
tiful girl in what 1 believe Don Wow
called a priced her mov-

ing fa ther away as we danced
ster and In the end I awoke

sereaming at the thought that my Right

Guard had failed to work. I told Don

Wow about it and he said 1 was making
progress.

In spite of his cncou

ry Usualness, not unlike the states in
which I met Little Hooch. Some mornings

adu

nervous tension
g that required drastic measures,
ncs even Excedrin, one ol Don
Wow's power foods. As a result, I suffered
moments of profound discomfort and
anxiety. 1 felt I had reached a persona
threshold, but Don Wow dismissed. the
whole thing, saying it was ol mo im
portance, that 1 was only beginni
feel like а g
ally,
essary, if 1 wished to continue on
path, to learn another technique,
а car. 1 insisted that 1 wa
not ready for it, that my nature was not
strong enough, but he insisted I driv
hiis car, saving lie would sit with me and

explain what to do.
By the time we got to his car it was
almost h hour.” Even before that

hour. I'd begun feeling a big rush from

the red pills he gave me to calm my
nerves.

“This is the most dangerous time to
drive," he said. “Many accidents can

happen. People can be hurt or even
Killed. So be carcful. We don’t want to
go home in a crow—uli, 1 mean an am-
bulance." His words od my ap-
pr tot

were shak

hensioi

y I calmed myself enough to
c. We got onto the freeway
tely jammed in among
literally thousands of cars. The scene was
so magnificent and yet so terrifying that
1 couldn't hold the wheel and several
times Don Wow had to grab it to avoid
our being squashed like bugs All 1
could see was the blinding glarc of
baked enamel in every imaginable color
of the rainbow, mixed with the silver
winki d glinting of the chrome

and were imn

ht of Fate afternoon.
IL was at the same a great beauty
and a deadly threat, like brilli
monds on the glossy back of a gi
tlesnake, stretched out across the mid
dle of Los Angeles, suni
1 rays of Light before the chi
underground

the cun

drove

All of a sudden a space opened up in
the lelt lane and Don Wow shouted at
ne. "In . step on it or we'll be
caught lor another half an hour!” Taking
him literally. 1 jammed my foot to the
Noor, certain that my life ou earth would
end il I failed to fe
Suddenly we were moving down the long
band of concrete at SO miles an hou
Then something happened so fast that
T would have missed ir had there uot been
such an incredible jolt and sound. I rau
ı ally. obviously one of the spirits
id followed me from Mexico. Ht
roadblock with
nt holding a sign that
ig E can тетеп
ed by one of the highway
spirits, which came after us in the for
ol a blue Hashing light emitting an inhu-
man wail. Don Wow tried to calm me
we speeded on to outrun it, but my fe
had grown to such proportions t
couldn't control myself, As we left the
ving ove
oll the road and into a field, where the
y spirit caught us. Belore it
hed the car, 1 passed oi
Don Wows house. He told

low his ii

sell as

The next th

is being ch

city 100 miles an hour, E ran

me to be calm, that everything was all
He then put his hand on my
shoulder and we had

to take the Cutty n. dimin:
1 needed it right away if | were to con-
tinue. I was paralyzed at the prospect of
g wih Little Hooch, especially
so soon alter being chased. But Dou Wow
insisted and we drank.

As 1 feared. the experience was а ter-
ale one, By the next day my

meet

üxiety

had grown so great that Iw

able to

the telephone to speak to the Time
Spirit as Don Wow had taught me to d
when E became frightened. Again and

again that day I attempted to get her on
the phone but continued to run into ad-
verse powers. "Em sorry. Ше uumbe
have dialed has been discoune
id I nearly fa
essed, 1 bes
ne shaky
notes, consequently, :

girared that my wi be
ıd some of m
illegible.

I remember Don Wow saying at o
im, “Fd better take you to Fhe Bath-

МЇ the muscles in my back tensed

place and.
periences, did i
The Bathroom.

fier my tei
ТЕЛЕУ
According то Don Wow
people went to. cle
themselves. I had no idea what to expect
but, being too weak to resist, allowed Don

uly to v

e

"Mr. Graham! Fm afraid that you and
Mrs. Graham have grossly misinterpreted the whole
idea of the foster-home program.”

get over his agi
ion that he had me up on
© my notes become unc
nd then pick up in The Bathroom.)
222 Was suffused with a brilliant white
glow (word crossed out) . . . three basins
ishioned oui ol an in-
пу white mate

ol varving shapes.

ае shi ial, vot unlike

cumulonimbus clouds
er Happy Jack, Arizona. өп a sp
day Gplotch ol Don Corleone Pir
scures passage) . . . one to sit on. опе to sit
in, onc in which to stick hands or other
ppendages (іп this case my head, which
was reeling with absurd and, finally, pro-
undly rre distractions. т
vealed to me at the wave of Don Wow's
which opened the door) h
with its own supply of hot and/or cold
running streams (but not alive wi
or other visible lorms of
wms produced iom m silver
ornamental spouts (the likes of which I'd
never seen in my normal accepted notion
of the world) rors on all avilable
wall space slu
inside out, dripping w
slacks bagged around my ankles (Luckily
1 had remembered to wear the Баска
shorts with the white whales on them)

sometimes se

1 ob-

nd my Sta-

n imerminable
п extended

Tater what seemed
Jengih of time, I fell pr
moment of hysteri

y to

al laughter and a gen
eral good time with the plastic duck Don
the tub. .. . (Last pas
sage cleansed away with beauty bar.)

T remained in a state of profound dis
tress for several hours afterward, Don
Wow explained that it was а common
reaction and that Twas only exper
the normal terror of losing my dirt

Wow gave me

That experience was the last of Don
Wow’s teachings. He had been complain
ing about my ізінше spells and attacks
ol disorientation and suggested E go scc
his doctor. Since then I have sought i
more of his lessons and, though Don
Wow has not changed. his benefactors
attitude toward те continuing throu
thick aud thin to а
h 10 the Si
alternoc

Hooch and w

How me to accompany

te Loi

nge on Sunday
ıs while he meets with Lite
ches the men who a
there рі nes in the box— do be
ccording to his doctor's report,
that E have succumbed to the first enemies
ol a Man of Ignorance: bleeding ulcers.
chronic depression and bad breath.

re not

247

га

PLAYBO

248

NEIGHBORS „алон page 58

grotesquely seeking and finding the earth.
"The resulting thunderclaps were im-
mense to thc ears, and when the build-
ings had tosed back their last echoes,
the silence psolute. In his apart-
ment, the nouncer’s voice was
still, the air conditioning silent. The
power had failed in the glassand-
concrete comple:

The fickle lightning moved north to-
ward Milwaukee, leaving in its path
trailings like fireflies on а summer night.
h the lightning gone, the complex
was plunged into darkness, although he
could see through the pelting rain the
flickering of candles and the beams from
flashlights. Which do you use behind your
curtains, Marian Taylor? If only I could
help you.

This pleasint fancy had no sooner
passed than he was startled to see her
balcony door slide open and the girl
ppear outside. With several large steps
suggesting urgency. she went to the cor-
ner of the balcony nearest him and

waved frantically іп his direction. Im-
possible, he thought, she can't see me,
for it’s as dark as moonles midnight.
Nevertheless, there was tei
waving and he opened his own balcony
door and went outside.

“Help!” she yelled, her v
by the wind.

“What's the matter?
ing forward at the balcon
sce more of her, but all he could make out
п the gloom were the white of her shorts,
the blonde of her hair.

"He's going to kill me.
“I'm coming, Mari;
Resembling tennis balls bouncing
about a court, the wind-propelled clouds
tumbled toward the group of. high-rise
apartment buildings. In a few minutes,
she thought, the storm will be upon us
with lightning and rain. Still, there was
time before it hit and, opening the

"In this dim light, how many seconds’
exposure do you give it?”

sliding glass door all the way, she
stepped out onto the balcony. То her
feet, the floor of the concrete balcony
was hot from the lateafternoon sun now
rendered invisible by the coming storm.
At that place on the balcony where the
view was directly toward Old Town, she
placed both hands on the rai
Go to church, her mother had said,
nd you will surely meet some nice
young men. In a big city, the advice had
proceeded, you must be careful where
you meet people. Church is a good place.
Well, she had wied church, the Episco-
pal one over on Dearborn Street,

thanks, Mother. Not her type, or
but what was her type? He was
maybe. The guy on the number-151 bus

nd her date tonight. Mother, you'll
never guess where I met him. On the
bus. On a Michigan Avenue number-
151 bus. H Don Moretel, but

nything to you
h her dress and.
long blonde hair and, leaning into the
wind, she could feel the temperatuie of
the air descend. Nearly time to go in,
she thought, since it appeared that date

neously. She was starting to turn, to
head 1 e apartment, when she
noticed the man in the next building.
Not more than a shadow in the failing
light: nevertheless, he was visible: stand-
ng next to a plant. (avocado?), holding
binoculars pointed directly at her. Of
all the nerve, you creep! she shrieked
to herself.

No more than 50 fect away and there
he was, devouring me with those big

sses, cating me alive at close
range. Strongly tempted to bolt
and escape those invad
theless, she remained motionless
met the gaze head on. Obviously, he
must know that he was caught in the
act, yet he stayed still and frozen. Or did
he believe the fading light rendered him
nvisible? Anyway. . . . A scattering of
raindrops smacked her in the face and
she went inside.

Some hours liter, she critiqued the
first date, mulling it over in the kitchen
with a glass of milk for an audience.
Don Moretel was an interesting guy, a
strange one, too. Possessive and moody,
though entertaining and amusing. Con-
tradictions galore. She looked into the
glass as if for the answer. Speak, glass. It
spoke: The creep's looking at you aga
Without glancing his way, she knew it
ight, creep, she thought.
Alter finishing the milk, she went to bed.

Next evening came and, with it, the
call of a girl who suspects that romance

пау lurk nearby—a session with a hot
‘on. The red gingham dress and other
possible dating apparel fell to the
»g metal and she even touched

up
her blue nightgown. After ironing the
nightgown, she held it to the light,

approvingly noticing its patent trans-

ncy, wistfully musing whether or not
Don would ever see her draped in such.
While temporarily suspended in this
reverie, she became aware that her soli-
an illusion, that the guy across
Шу scanning. and
by turning slightly, she confirmed it. By
the potted plant, there was а vague
shape in the darkened apartment. One
ng. creep. she mused, you'll never see
me in this nightgown.

Events of the following week called
forth a mixed bag of emotions: pleasure,
puzzlement, annoyance. Don Moretel was
solicitous, polite, gencrous with his dating
cash.

He was also somewhat of a mystery
n concerning where he lived. "Хе:
s his only reply. And he was
suspicious, jealous, even threatening.

"What do you do when I don't see
you?" he asked at onc point.

"Right now, I'm seeing you, Don.

“But when Em not around?”
ust you, Don

“I have this pi

re of you in my
mind, M: It's like I monitor you
with some kind of ESP.” She remembered
that one of their early conversations had
been about thought transference. Tt was
one of his peculiar interests—but she
hadn't been able to tell whether he'd
been joking about it or whether he really
believed in it
Six short days had passed since the
first date, and in six d nd four dates
it was all over, ending far short of any
scene starring the blue nightgown. Sit-
urday morning and dressed in white
shoris and dark T-shirt, she chiin-
smoked bchind dosed drapes,
aware of the humming of the
completely oblivious to the
weather out

tioning,

le,

final straw. Following an expensive
well-turned-out meal in a French re:
rant, they had gone to a Near North
popular with the young set. Before she
had finished her first drink, he
pulled the possessive act with such force
that had n refuge in the ladies"
тоо! ad there she ched the final
decision. She was retu
threading her way through ma
manity, when she noticed 1
opened her purse and with one hand was
rummaging around inside.

“Don, what are you doing in
purse?’
“Looking for a match. What took you
so long?”

“Take me home, please.”

In the cab on the way back. she
owned the conversation. In precise lan-
guage, without attempting to keep the
heat out of her voice, she delivered the
nonnegotiable.

my

"You don't own me," she concluded.

“Good night,” he replied sweetly, not
bothering to get out of the cab. And
as she was walking away from the
cab, he tossed her a kind of throwaway
line, one that exploded around her head
like a bomb.

Ia I'm going to kill you. That's
a promise.”

She had rushed into her building's lob-
by, mentally urged the clevator on to
greater speed and. once inside the apart-
ment, she slammed the door. Turning
the double lock at the top, she felt
satisfaction at the solid, metallic click.

“No way" the building superint
ent had said when she moved in, “for
anyone to get through that double lock
without a key. Of course, they could al-
ways take the door off,” and he laughed
at al since the neighbors would be
bound ro hear or votice.

Saturday morning passed into aher
noon and she sat there bchind closed
drapes, smoked. commiserated. with her-
self, The principal reassuring thought:
Thank God for the double lock. And
there was always the phone and thc
police. And, as а last resort, the gun in
the bedroom.

She went into the bedroom. Nestled
beneath а maroon wool sweater was а
Ruger Mark ] automatic target. pistol.
Great on tin cans and for just fooling
around. it w n for a
city g e, especially for a former
downstate tomboy. А box of .22-caliber
ammunition was kept under another
sweater, and she placed both pistol and
bullets on top of the bureau.

The [ull of kooks she
thought, returning to the living room.
Like Don Moretel from the 151 bus.
Well, her mother would say. what would
you expect? Now, | suggest. . . . OK,
Mother, | get the picture. Kooks. An
ocean full of them. And not to mention
my lite friend with the binoculars
across the way.

That week she had been aware of his
ching her when tidying up bel
Don came over, after Don had brought
her home and had left, and the ne
she had done the ironing. But oddly
enough, she had not believed her apart-
ment under surveillance when Don was
with her there, although thi was no
reason to doubt that even creeps have
their own social lile and go out, too.
What do you suppose he's up to now?
she wondered, To be sure, the di
curtains did not offer a tempting vi
for him; she went to the curtain
drew it back a slit so she could see into
the n partment.

Looking out, she was surprised how
dark it was, There could only be a storm
on the way, she knew, for it was not
quite five o'clock. And, yes, he was
there, not by the avocido plant but
back in the apartment with binoculars

1 to ha

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chest, his nes mes the lake, no
doubt eying the coming storm. To M.
am, he was an indistinct figure
false dusk.

With the first flash of lightning, she
let the drapes return to their normal
state and stepped back into her livi
тоот. Putting a hand to her chest, she
could clearly “feel the beat of her heart,
strong, increasing in tempo. reflecting
anxiety about to overflow to the grounds
of panic. Several things were wrong,
dead wrong, yet their essences chided
her. She glanced around the room, as i£
the room itself held an answer—any
answer. The double-locked door. News-
papers on the floor. An overflowing ash-
пау, The lamp burning on the coffee
ble. The purse on the couch.
“The purse!" she said out loud
gers tearing at the zipper.

Turning it upside down, she let the
contents fall to the couch, and then she
got down on her knees to hetter inspect.
Suddenly, the little pile of feminine ef-
fects scemed to glow not once but three
localized evidence of three mon-
strous thunderbolts ripping the sky; but
even before the coffec-table lamp. went
out and the air conditioning ceased to
whoosh, she knew that the extra set of
keys was gone.
larian, Pm going to kill you."

At any moment, entirely at his discre-
on, Don. Morctcl could come throu
the door. The police, she thought; but
from the lifted phone, she w insulted
by the lack of a hum, isolated by abso-
lute silence. The word escape rang in
her brain and, in a trifling. she was i
the hall and running for the st With
the power failure, surely the clevators
were out of action. but 17 flights down
she would be in the lobby, with the street
utside and a police car soon to pass.
Normally. an electric sign indicated
sTaırs in the hall, but this also had been
extinguished by the storm. Four doors
toward the elevators were the stairs, she
reckoned on the run, and she was right
on target, opening the door as the build-
shook with an outrageous rumble of
thunder, She started down the stairs but
had not traveled a flight in Ше dark
when a noise brought her to a stop:
from below, the heavy tread of a та

ed that an occupant of the building had
elected to hoof it up home, while the
other part shouted that Don Moretel was
on the way. It was impossible to meet
one in the clevator, so what better
place for murder than in a glass house
without electricity? She fled back to her
apartment, stopping in her dash t0 bang
on two doors, hitting them hard with a
doubled fist, striking them with force
enough to send the little brass knockers
nto crazy metallic dances. Thunder an-

250 swered her desperation.

Back in her own place, she did not
bother to lock the door, for what good
would it do with Don having the key?
She did light a candle, however, to af-
ford some light for the apartment, and
placed it on the coffee table. She had a
plan now and this made her feel calme
To her, the use of the gun was repug
nant and a last desperate remedy. But
there was someone to whom she could
call for help. The creep across the way.
To be a creep was one thing, to be a
posible murderer, another. He was
probably safe enough and, at least, bet-
ter than no one. She rushed for the
balcony door.

He must sce me waving, she prayed.
He does see me. He's coming. Still n
more than a blur in the murk, he stood.
oss from her on his balcony, leaning
over the railing, trying to catch her plea

“Help!” she yelled

“What's the matter?" he shouted.
sc help me!”

"s Ше matter?”

re
was very distant now, barely illuminat-
ng the dark skies north along the la
She closed the sliding glass door
returned. to the living room. He knows
my name. When concentrating hard,
Marian had a stance that was, in effect,
а characteristic gesture of deep contem
‚ legs stiff, with the right foot at
ngle to the left. Standing in
such a way, staring ar the unduliting
wave of the candlelight, she grabbed for
what was loose and brought it down,

"Oh. my God!" she said, speaking
out loud in her solitude for the second
time that day. The graceful position

evaporated
the sofa, one hand behind the other and
both pressed tighily to her eyes.

"D have this picture of you in my
mind, Marian," Don had boasted, But
now she guessed the picture came Пот
something more tangible than ESP.

Squarely she must face. one ghasdy,
inescapable truth: Don Morctel and thc
creep were one and the same.

Surely this was the reason the man in
the next building had never snooped
when Don was with her and why he had.
said that she was never out of his sight
Nevertheless, against overwhelming evi-
dence, she wondered if she wasit mak-
ing a mistake, if Don had been uying
only to scare her from secing other men
and if Don's and the creep's going out at
the same time wasn't just coincidence
And the fact that he knew her name
virtually could be meaningless. After all,
he must be interested in her, because of
the intensity of his watching. He lived
on the same floor as she, though in a
different’ building. Figuring ош her

iment number would not be tough,

imo a huddled figure on

apa

since each build
layout as to apa
directory dow
name in a second. Perl
but her final conclusion was hard.
two men were identical and
rationale was simply fooling hei
In the bedroom, the metal of the target
pistol felt warm and humid ro the touch.
Carrying the weapon into the living
room, she loaded it by candlelight and,
going to the corner of the room, flanked
by the draperies, she waited with gun
pointing at the door,
Marian, I'm going to kill you.”
“Maybe you will,” she whispered to
herself, "We'll see.”
With doc
conditioning off, the a
geuing sticky, and she felt a thi
like film spread across her, caused par-
Пу by rising temperature and humidity
nly by the most terrifying expe
r existence.
y horizontally, the
tern on the windows,
me wind howling with
an cerie pitch around glass and con-
crete. Seven thousand people lived in the
complex, she had heard, yet she could
summon only a single person to help. a
ted suitor who for some warped r
nged, and one
who had promised to kill her.
She was too far from the candle to see
the gun held іп her hand, though she
suspected. from the vicious grip оп Ше
butt that the hand would show white.
Please come. Please come. So we can fin-
ish whatever it is you and I must finish.
In time he came. In uncounted hours
to the waiting girl, in reality only the
handful of minutes that it requires a
strong man to run down 17 flights, cross
a courtyard. climb 17 flights. he burst
through the door а run at
nearly shoulder height, entering the room
in а shallow dive, unnaturally stiff as a
creature drawn on wi
The first shot she could identify indi
а sharp minor ping in the small
room, but the vest ran together like a
sing of ing firecrackers. The
slightly plunging man never had the
opportunity to straighten from his dive,
for his wip was all one way—to the floor
by the coffee table, face flush with the
rug when the forward momentum had
stopped.
ng to the rug, the gun
gentle anticlimactic thud, and the one
ge gulp of air she took was filled with
smoke, so when she screamed, the sound
came out hoarse and warbling, like the
racket from a hurt animal.
"Shut up," Don

ng had an idemical
nent numbers. The
rs would furnish her

ps. she thought;
The

but ma
ence of 1

ing
beat а staccato р
and with wate

made а

Mori
closed the door. In easy Fashion. he swung

el said as he

а flashlight. “You'll v
added. and laughed.
In the core

ke the dead," he

Marian sta

ted to ау

LEMME
SEE THAT
HANDBAG

STAND
STILL 505

1 CAN MOLEST |

YOU ALITTLE,

PET'S LOOK IN ON OUR SWEET - STEPPING
ЖЫ DARLING AS SHE STROLLS DOWN A TYPICAL,
STREET IN A TYPICAL BIG CITY. TYPICALLY,
SHE IS FACED WITH TWO EVER - PRESENT.
PROBLEMS; THE PERSISTENT PORTNOY, HER.
MOST AVID SUITOR, AND EVEN NORE VEXING,
THAT WHICH 16 KNOWN TO ANIMAL LOVERS
AND РООРЕК SCOOPERS AS PLOP OR 000-000,
AND TO ALL OTHERS А5 DOG SHIT.

GOLLY,

THERE ARE
MORE PETS THAN
EVER THESE DAYS.
DOESN'T IT JUST GO 10
SHOW THAT PEOPLE
ARE BRIMMING
OVER WITH

Love?

THOUGHT.
MONEY CAN'T
Buy HAPPI-

NICE HAND:
BAG, WEAR ў,
IT WELL. Ж

тА ip
GOOD THING i ! LOVE DOGS,
GENGHIS AND1 BUT: GLORVOSKY
HAPPENED ALONG. JIN E STREETS ARE
s Exi
A DOG? - 1 |; ING 5
Е E ÉECOME
IMPOSSIBLE?!

THE LEAST! CAN
DO FOR YOU FOR WALKING
ME HOME 15 TO OFFER
YOU A DRINK.

MOTHER, THIS
DOG. GOES
RIGHT FOR

THE JUGULAR
WHEN HE'S

PLAYBOY

MAD. JUST
DON'T PICK
ОР ANYTHING

OR TALK ABOVE
A WHISPER
ss OTHER,
THAN THAT,
HE'S VERY
FRIEND-

JUST LOST HIS
FOOTING!

Ж?

AM

(Psst? DO
YOUR STUFF,

Poa.)

ONCE HE SEES QUICK! MAKE
A TRAY HE GOES HIM FEEL AT EASE!
BERSERK! THERE'S LET'S TAKE OFF OUR

NO CONTROLLING A JACKETS! HE HATES
zi $ JACKETS!

-THE TRAV!
PUT IT DOWN! TRAYS ў
REALLY SET HIM

DS IN? is DON'T SIR
ZEVEN М IUESTIONS ! JUST рО
М А PANTIES? LIKE HE SAYS!
fa THE ONLY THING THAT * ج‎

CALMS HIM IS

STRIPPING!

CALMLY
TAKE OFF THE

PANTS, THE BRA,
EVERYTHING!

(156 МЕ? MAKE HIM

THINK WE'RE MAKING

VE! THAT CALMS
HIM, TOO?

» ;

-AND THEN HE
BARKED AND
MADE ME GET
UNDRESSED
AND IF NOU
HADN'T COME
IN JUST WHEN ;
YOU DID — NOT “BABIES,”
SWEETHEART >> "RABIES?"

C ГУЛ

оқ,
FLAKE OFF,
LOVE WHILE YOU LOUSY

THAT TROUBLE,
DON'T TELL ME

NOT EXACTLY,
RUTHIE. HE BARKS
ALOT, BUT HE
NEVER NEEDS

WALKING

GIVE ANNIE
\. YOUR FAW

253

PLAYBOY

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DEN, CHARLES MANSON AND THE LONELINESS OF AMERICAN
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“А SOCIETY OF FRIENDS"—WITH ONES LIKE THESE, AS THE
SAYING GOES, WHO NEEDS ENEMIES? NOT THE GUY IN THIS
STORY, BEING BURIED AT SEA—BY TOM McHALE

“JESUS CHRIST SUPERHAM" —ON LOCATION WITH THE COM-
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DERS: WHY IS THIS MAN CRYING?—BY NIK СОНМ

"HOW TO BEAT THE STOCK MARKET BY WATCHING
GIRLS, COUNTING ASPIRIN, CHECKING SUNSPOTS AND
WONDERING WHERE THE YELLOW WENT”—SOME EERILY
ACCURATE INVESTMENT THEORIES—BY MAX GUNTHER

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“RIDING RESCUE"'—IN THE 24-HOUR DAY'S WORK OF A MIAMI
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PRECIOUS FEW GOODIES—BY DONN PEARCE

“THE TIME MACHINE"'—THE TALE OF A BRILLIANT SCIENTIST
WHO SHOULD HAVE CONSULTED DALE CARNEGIE BEFORE SIT-
TING DOWN AT THE DRAWING BOARD--BY ROBERT F. YOUNG

“SUMMER OF '72"—OUR PERIPATETIC ARTIST TAKES HIS
SKETCHBOOK TO THE HAMPTONS—BY LEROY NEIMAN

“A CROSSING ON THE ҒНАМСЕ”--А TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE
WORLD'S FEW SURVIVING LUXURIES—BY JOSEPH WECHSBERG

“THE BIJOONA IN G15"—EVER BEEN ASSAULTED BY A TOILET
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“GREAT СОНСЕ!”--А WORDS-AND-PICTURES ALBUM ON
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Touch. And g0.

Full electrics. The Harley-
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kick out of starting. Puts it in
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Motivated by the 350cc
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Man Meant’ A етее raga Ж оа лм Marhina

The

Dodge Colt GT

Built across the ocean.
Serviced across the street.

Up until now, when you
bought a sporty little Japanese
import, you pretty much had to
rely on dealerships the imports
themselves set up in the U.S.,
for parts and service.

But now, along comes the
Dodge Colt GT.

Sporty as you could ask for.

But,more important, the
Colt comes with a system of
ready-made U.S. dealerships.

That means when your Colt
gets to America, it's sold and
Serviced by a network of Dodge
Colt Dealers that stretches from
coast to coast

So if you're thinking sporty,
think of it this way: seu
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Here are just a few of the 35
things that come standard on
the Colt GT: Overhead cam hemi
engine ө Four-on-the-floor

ө Front disc brakes e Reclining
bucket seats e Adjustable
steering column e Rally striping
inside and out e Soft-rim sports
steering wheel e Flow-through
ventilation e Whitewall tires ө
Center console with storage bin.

SN CHRYSLER