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CONFESSIONS OF A FALLEN HERO BY ART SCHLICHTER

ENTERTAINMENT FOR M

FEBRUARY 1984 » $3.00

A POTENT HEEEEERE'S
PICTORIAL |... oem
Sexy Women "MATINEE LADY”
PAR SHOWS ALL

Than You Are

PAUL SIMON
INTERVIEW: \ A
LOVE, HATE AND З м ou
ART GARFUNKEL |

PROFILE OF
WILLIAM HURT
HOLLY WOOD'S
INTENSE STAR

TAKE PLAYBOY'S
SUCCESS QUIZ AND
FIND OUT IF YOU'VE
GOT WHAT IT TAKES ©
TO GET RICH |

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PLAYBOY

Don't just tape it. TDK it.

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original event, giving you optimum performance that only TDK can offer.

That's because TDK's exclusive Super Avilyn tape formulation assures consistent quality
performance, play after play. Images stay crisp. Sound is reproduced faithfully. And colors stay
uniform and natural—even in the demanding SLP mode. —

But there's more to TDK video tape than meets the eye.

‘TDK is the world leader in video tape technology. Our knowledge
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For example, every TDK video cassette is engineered and
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Theend result is unmatched reliability and jam-proof performance.

So for clean, natural colors, crisp images and a world of
enjoyment, don't just tape it. TDK it.

PLAYBI

FOOTBALL IS AN AMERICAN passion and gambling is an American re-
ligion. During Super Bowl XVII, bookies will pass the collec-
ion plates to a congregation of holy high rollers. According to
some experts, as much as ten billion dollars will be wagered on
that game. Peter Gent, former Dallas Cowboy and author of The
Franchise and North Dallas Forty, suggested during a Sports inter-
view conducted by John A. Walsh that every week, half of this na-
tion of gamblers is renewed by the ritual of pro ball. That's what
betting is: "God loves me. I'm going to cover the spread.” A
more chilling portrait of the effects of gambling is offered in The F;
Self-Destruction of an All-American, by Art Schlichter with Dick
Schaap. Schlichter had itall—he was a star at Ohio State, a quar- SEES
terback for the Baltimore Colts. He was in the heat of the action
but his quest for more cost him almost $1,000.000 in gambling
debts. The accompanying art, by Teresa Fasolino, gives you a seat
on the 50-yard line. A lighter side of pro football is presented in
The Dancing Bears, in which Contributing Editor Asa Baber, the
author of our regular Men column, speculates on what would
happen if the Chicago Bears hired a ballerina as coach. Imagine
kickofls to Bartók, blocks and tackles and passes to Bizet and
Bach and Mozart, all the way to the Super Bowl.

By the time you clean up the wreckage from Super Bowl
weekend, you'll be ready for the Winter Olympics. You may not
know it, but the Americans have the best ski team in the world
Herbert Burkholz hung out with The Snow Gods for a year, includ-
ing the warm-ups at Sarajevo, Yugoslavia. He reports on the ac-
tion both on and off the slope. Go for it, Phil, Steve, Tamara,
dy and Billy. Those of you who prefer warm-blooded sports
should check out Women of Steel, competitors who are both sexy
and strong, compiled by Senior Photography Editor Jeff Cohen,
Contributing Photographer Richard Fegley and Associate Stall
Photographer David Mecey. They'll pump you up in no time.

Joseph R. Mancuso is the president of the Center for Entre-
preneurial Management in New York, the largest association of
its kind in the country. His Entrepreneur Quiz, illustrated by Lon-
nie Sue Johnson, will tell you whether or not you have the right
stull to “manage, organize and assume the risk of a business en-
terprise." Forky, a short story by Andre Dubus Ш, describes
another kind of entreprencur—the armed-robber kind. Apart 4
from sports, business and crime, there is one other area in which X 17
individual enterprise is rewarded: the arts. This month, we pre- / fy
sent interviews and profiles of four people at the top. Contribut- Á Lhe
ing Editor Tony Schwartz conducts our Playboy Interview with the DUBUS =
t-all-simplc Paul Simon. (You may know of him as Princess.
ind.) Robert Crane in 20 Questions checks in with Shel-
ley Long of Cheers. And E. Jean Carroll gives us a peek at the heart
of superst iam Hurt in So Hot, So Cool, So Hurt (illustrated
hy Matt Mahurin). This is Carroll's first appearance in PLAYBOY
She recently moved from Montana to New York City, where she
3 to understand the “vague, blurred, dispassionate ways
of the New York male.” She is working on a book, to be pub-
lished by Bantam next fall, on the subject of women “who act
strange.” One of our fayorites in that genre is Carol Wayne, the
Sassy, sexy, wonderful, wacky “Matinee Lady" who won Amer-
ica’s hearts and minds, ete., on The Tonight Show. One look at
her stunning pictorial and you'll know that it wasn't Johnny Car-
son's monolog you were waiting up for all those nights.

It's the time of 1 we try to figure out what makes the
world go round. Senior Editor Gretchen McNeese, Assistant Photo
Editor Patty Beaudet, Associate Art Director Bruce Hansen, Associ-
ate Editor Kevin Cook, Assistant Editor David Nimmons and Edito-
rial Assistant Lynn Borkon worked long hard hours on our annual
The Year in Sex. After that, check out Jim Morgan's spoof of Macho
Sushi, as well as introductions to Americ n furni-
ture, dressy sweaters and Playmate Justine Greiner. Just another
championship year.

BABER

BURKHOLZ

MANCUSO

CARROLL. MAHURIN

ar wh

n wines, [talia

SCHWARTZ

PLAYBOY, 1155" 0032-1478). FEBRUARY, 1964, VOLUME 31, NUMBER 1, PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY PLAYBOY IN NATIONAL AND REGIONAL EDITIONS, PLAYBOY BLDG |919 N MICHIGAN AVE CHICAGO, нї 60611
ате CLASS POSTAGE PAID AT CHGO IL. ^ AT ADDL MAILING OFFICES SUBS -im THE U.S , $22 FOR 12 ISSUES POSTMASTER. SEND FORM 2573 TO PLAYACY, P O AOI Z820, HOULDER COLO возо:

Gold Rum.The first sip will amaze you.
The second will convert you.

“I used to drink
Canadian whiskey.
Gold Rum
is smoother.”

where are switching to Puerto Rican gold rum. The reason? Puerto Rican
lightness that people prefer today.
You'll find that gold rum makes an exceptionally smooth drink—on the rocks,
with soda or ginger ale, or with your favorite mixe
If you're still drinking Canadian, bourbon or blended whiskey, it's because you

haven't tasted Puerto Rican gold rum. THE GOLD RUMS OF PUERTO RICO

LAYBOY

vol. 31, по. 2 —february, 1984 CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE
PLAYBILL .-.......... dece tem kor es Reddo B
IIHEWORIDIOFIPLAYBOY SL on egos ae yet facie eins Ed 11

DEAR PLAYBOY ...... 15

PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS کا‎ c 19

МЕЧ К ТЕ e эы д ке, Сай. ce NP ЭО! ASA BABER 33

WOMEN SE A CYNTHIA HEIMEL 35

THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR . 37

DEAR PLAYMATES . 39 Toug Cookie
THE PLAYBOY FORUM 43

PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: PAUL SIMON—candid conversation ............... ^ 49

101 NIGHTS WITH JOHNNY pictorial КАЕ 4
FORKY—fietion ccs : -.. ANDRE DUBUS Ш 62
О BEAUTIFUL FOR SPACIOUS WINES—drink ........... EMANUEL GREENBERG 65
COVER STORI ES = pictorial АА 66
SO HOT, SO COOL, SO HURT— personality .
THE LOWEDOWN ON SWEATERS— attire Ader As HOLLIS WAYNE 74
THE ENTREPRENEUR QUIZ ....................... JOSEPH R. MANCUSO BO
KICKING BACK—playboy's playmote of the month _......................... 82
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor .
THE DANCING BEARS—fiction .
THE ITALIAN CONNECTION—modern living . .
BERNARD AND HUEY—sotire .....................

THE SNOW GODS—sports .............................. HERBERT BURKHOLZ 106
MACHO SUSHI—humor .. . ры JIM MORGAN 109

Miss February

WOMEN OF STEEL—pictorial . wi
20 QUESTIONS: SHELLEY LONG 122
THE YEAR IN SEX—pietorial............. 124
PLAYBOY FUNNIES = humor =. Кы крузер К ЕЛЫК eae AEN Nen 132
PLAYBOY ОМ THE SCENE ЛЫ tee MU 179 Italian Connection P. 100

COVER STORY In olden days, a glimpse of stocking wos shocking. Now, heoven
knows, everything shows. But o frill here and a gorter there still lend a floir, os Miss
Jonuory 1982, Kimberly McArthur, showed photogropher J. Frederick Smith. Kim's
19th Century corset and brooch were provided by Lydio-vestiti antichi, of New York.
The photo was produced by Associate Photo Editor Janice Moses.

GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY BUILDING, 919 NORTH MICHIGAN АМЕ. CHICAGO. JLLINO'S €061. RETURN POSTAGE MUST ACCOMPANY ALL MANUSCRIPTS, DRAWINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS SUBMITTED 1F THEY AME то BE

VERROUTEREN, P. эз: LEN WLLIS. P I, ITALIAN FURNITURE WOMEN'S FASHION, NORTH BEACH LEATHER, WATER TOWER PLACE, CHICAGO, P 100-103. VIDEOS COLIITEAY OF: HOE P. ADAMS, EMI AUEMEA, Eti HORN ORO:
CAPTOL HECOROS. POLYDOR. P. 125. INSERTS: FRANKLIN RINT CARO BETWEEN PAGES 12-13, 174-99: PLAYBOY CLUBS INTERNATIONAL CARO BETWEEN PAGES 170.17).

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PLAYBOY

HUGH M. HEFNER
editor and publisher

NAT LEHRMAN associate publisher

ARTHUR KRETCHMER editorial director
TOM STAEBLER art director
DON GOLD managing editor
GARY COLE photography director
BARRY GOLSON executive editor

EDITORIAL.

NONFICTION: JAMES MORGAN articles editor; ROB.
FLEDER senior editor; FICTION: CE К. TURNER
editor; TERESA GROSCH associate editor; PLAYBOY
GUIDES: MAURY Z. LEVY edilor; STAFF: WILLIAM J.
HELMER.GRETCHENMCNEESE, PATRICIA PAPANGELIS
(administration), STEPHEN RANDALL. (west coast),
DAVID STEVENS senior edilors; ROBERT E. CARR.
WALTER LOWE, JR., JAMES R. PETERSEN, JOHN REZEK
senior staff wrilers: KEVIN COOK. BARBARA NELLIS.
KATE NOLAN. J. F. O'CONNOR, SUSAN NARGOLIS-WIN-
"TER (new york) associate editors; DAVID NIMMONS
assistant editor; MODERN LIVING: ED WALKER
associate editor; JIM BARKER assistant editor;
FASHION: HOLLIS WAYNE contributing editor; HOL-
LY BINDERUP assistant editor; CARTOONS: MI-
CHELLE URRY editor; COPY: ARLENE BOURAS editor;
JOYCE RUBIN assistant editor; NANCY BANKS, CAR-
OLYN BROWNE, JACKIE JOHNSON, MARCY MARCH
BARI LYNN NASH, MARY ZION researchers; CON-
TRIBUTING EDITORS: ASA BABER, JOHN BLUMEN-
THAL, LAURENCE GONZALES, LAWRENCE GROBEL, D.
KEITH MANO, ANSON MOUNT, PETER ROSS RANGE,
DAVID RENSIN, RICHARD RHODES, JOHN SACK, TONY
SCHWARTZ (television), DAVID STANDISH, ERUCE
WILLIAMSON (movies), GARY WITZENBURG

ART
KERIG POPE managing direclor; CHET SUSKI. LEN
WILLIS senior directors; BRUCE HANSEN, THEO
KOUVATSOS, SKIP WILLIAMSON associate directors;
JOSEPH PACZEK assistant director; BETH KASIK
Senior art assistant; ANN SEIDL, CRAIG SMITH arf as-
sistants; SUSAN HOLMSTROM traffic coordinator;
BARBARA HOFFMAN administrative manager

PHOTOGRAPHY

MARILYN GRABOWSKI west coast editor; JEFF COHEN
senior editor; JAMES LARSON, JANICE MOSES asso-
ciate editors; PATTY BEAUDET, LINDA KENNEY, MI-
CHAEL ANN SULLIVAN assistant edilors; POMPEO
Posar staff photographer; DAVID MECEY, KERRY
MORRIS associate staff photographers; DAVID CHAN,
RICHARD FEGLEY, ARNY FREYTAG, RICHARD IZUI,
LARRY L LOGAN, KEN MARCUS, STEPHEN WAYDA con=
tributing photographers; BARBARA CAMP, JANE
FRIEDMAN, PATRICIA TOMLINSON stylists; JAMES
WARD color lab supervisor; ROBERT CHELIUS busi-
neis manager

PRODUCTION
JOHN MASTRO direclor; ALLEN VARGO manager;
MARIA MANDIS asst. mgr.; ELEAN
JURGETO, RICHARD QUARTAROLI assistants

READER SERVICE,

CYNTHIA LACEV-SIKICH manager

CIRCULATION
RICHARD SMITH director; ALVIN WIEMOLD sub-
scription manager

ADVERTISING
CHARLES M. STENTIFORD director.

ADMINISTRATIVE
J. P TIM DOLMAN assistant publisher; PAULETTE
GAUDET rights & permissions manager; EILEEN
KENT contracts administrator

PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES, INC.
CHRISTIE HEFNER president; MARVIN L. HUSTON
executive vice-president

Its the fastest...

Volkswagen Scirocco is

yOU can Q faster then 55 mphina
mere car.
Faster in terms of its
speed of reaction.
а | I р. Underneath its aero-

* dynamic pody im made Ву
achworks s in Osnabrück, West Germany)

1 suspension system designed to
nicate with you.

jonds to your commands immediately.

‘re maneuvering at a city crawl. Or ona
'obahn, where there are no speed limits.
nthe U.S., there is a speed limit.

\ оссо, there's no limit on the fun you can
ile you're observing it. ©? It's not a car.
The 1984 Scirocco $10,870. It’ sa Volkswagen.

папи

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health.

VANTAGE.
THE TASTE OF SUCCESS.

Great Taste
with Low Tar.
That's Success!

THE WORLD OF PLAYBOY

in which we offer an insider's look at what's doing and who's doing it

FROM PRIME RIB TO PRIME TIME 5 SHAKE THOSE KNEES

When we first saw Barbara Bosson, she Under IDEAL MAN on her Playmate Data
was busting her cottontail as a Bunny in Sheet, Linda Rhys Vaughn wrote,
our New York Playboy Club. Now, as Fay "Someone то makes my knees
Furillo in NBC's Hill Street Blues, she shake!" Well, Miss April 1982 became
takes orders from nobody, not even the Mrs. Walt Wieme not long ago and
captain. One of the subjects of last Octo- then—sure enough—showed off a quak-
bers Playboy Interview, Barbara has 5 ig patella. Breathes there a Playmate

already received three Emmy nomina- | who needs “а World of Playboy writer"?
tions. Win or lose next time, we think she

looks great under any set of rabbit ears.

FRIDAY'S NIGHT VIDEO

Playboy President Christie Hefner
and author Nancy Friday (below) met
in New York's Russian Tea Room
recently to announce a one-of-a-kind
series for The Playboy Channel.
The Friday Files examines the sex-
uel fantesies and realities of
life in a beachfront resort hotel.

GOOD SPORTS

The second annual Playmate Challenge Cup
went off beautifully at Hef's place, and The
Playboy Channel was there to capture all the |
thrill of victory and the agony of sunburn. Hef
dropped in for the pipe-balancing event
{above) and for a little conviviality as Miss
July 1981, Heidi Sorenson, tugged at
America’s heartstrings (right). After this, the
LA. Olympics are sure to be an anticlimax.

The Institute of Jazz Studies is proud to announce
its Official Archive Collection

THE GREATEST
JAZZ RECORDINOS
OF ALL TIME

Unprecedented in recording history —the complete
and definitive collection of great jazz performances

"Now its all together ... all the best of jazz,
at long last, in one place. With all the joy,
the sorrow, the vitality that makes jazz great.
It gives me a tremendous feeling to know
this collection is being done, and

I'm delighted to be a part of it

—Dave Brubeck

A collection that only the Institute of Jazz Studies could assemble:

O The best of over 60,000 records from the Institute's archives
and the vaults of every great jazz label.

о Including rare out-of-issue pressings, unreleased recordings-
and studio "takes" just recently discovered.

O The first and only collection to tell the entire jazz story.

FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, the greatest
recorded performances in the history of
jazz will be brought together in a single,
definitive record collection.

This unprecedented collection is be-
ing issued by the Institute of Jazz Stud.
ies, home of the world's largest archive
of original jazz recordings. It will in-
clude the most important recordings of
every major jazz artist who ever lived.
And it will span all periods . .. all labels

all the great styles that have made
jazz the most inventive and exciting
music of our century.

From the world's largest jazz archive

The Greatest Jazz Recordings of All
Time is the culmination of years of work
carried on at the Institute's headquer-
ters at Rutgers University — by a staff of
authorities unique in all the world.

As they set about making their selec-
lions, no resource was denied them
They considered countless recordings,
beginning with the Institute's own ar-
chive of more than 60,000 records. In
addition, they received the support of
all the great jazz labels, whose vaults
hold the master recordings essential for
this collection.

The most comprehensive.
collection ever assembled

As a result, this will be the first col-
lection to capture the all-time best of

Louis Armstrong, Stan Getz Photos by Robert Parent, Ella Fitzgerald:
Photo by Raymond Ross; Lionel Hampton, Dave Brubeck: David
Redlern/Retna Lic.: Benny Goodman: Rex Features Ца: King Oliver's
Creole Jazz Band: Courtesy of the Tulane University Jazz Archive.

jazz, as it flourished in each generation.
The greatest music from the golden
age —the dazzling trumpet solos of
Louis Armstrong, the biting elegance of
Bix Beiderbecke's cornet, and the vital,
vibrant piano styles of Fats Waller.

From the era of swing —the inno-
vative bands of Benny Goodman,
Count Basie, Gene Krupa; the incom-
parable Duke Ellington; singers Billie
Holiday, Bing Crosby; guitarist Django
Reinhardt in his “Hot Club of France”
recordings.

The best of bop ard coo/ jazz —with
alto sax artists ranging from the fiery
Charlie Parker to the impeccably
graceful Paul Desmond ... trumpeters
Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis ... the
Oscar Peterson Trio ... Milt Jackson,
with the Modern Jazz Quartet.

And the great musicians who are
bringing jazz to more people than ever
today —including George Benson,
Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea.

A collection you could
never assemble in any other way

This is a collection that could not be
duplicated by any individual. For it
draws upon a wealth of rare recordings
which belong to the Jazz Institute —
including important material just un-
covered in the last few years.

Some of these recordings, such as
Teddy Wilson's solo piano version of
‘Somebody Loves Me, have actually
never been issued before. Others have
been unavailable for decades—such
as Art Tatum's ‘Chloe.’ And among the
most fascinating of all are the pre-
viously unreleased studio "takes" of
well-known numbers like 'Benny's Bu-
gle’ by Charlie Christian and ‘| Can't
Get Started’ by Bunny Berigan.

And all the classics and hits of jazz
will be here. Unforgettable perfor-
mances of ‘St. James Infirmary’ by Jack
Teagarden, ‘China Boy’ by Eddie Con-
don, and ‘Star Dust’ by Lionel Hampton.

The superior
sound of proof-quality records
The sound quality of each record will be
a revelation. For every vintage record-
ing will first undergo a painstaking res-
loration. Each will be electronically
"cleaned," groove by groove ... bring-

ing you closer to the actual perfor-
mance than was previously possible.

Furthermore, the Institute of Jazz
Studies has appointed The Franklin
Mint Record Society, one of America's
leading producers of high-quality
records, to press the records for this
collection. And they will use a special
vinyl compound containing its own anti-
static element. In addition, each record
will be pressed in an atmosphere con-
trolled "clean room.” The result—a
Pressing of superior fidelity that is also
more durable and resistant to dust. A
record of true proof-quality.

The records will be issued in hard-
bound albums. Each album will hold а
set of four 12" long-playing records.
And each will present a specially con-
ceived program of selections, which
brings together related performances
in a way unique to this collection. Ac-
companying each album will be an ex-
pert commentary, written under the
supervision of Institute Director Dan
Morgenstern.

Available exclusively by subscription
Throughout the world today, people are

rediscovering jazz: realizing anew what
a vital musical form it is. If you have a
love for jazz ... whether you follow it
avidly or remember it with nostalgia .
this is an opportunity not to be missed

The collection is available only by
subscription. Albums will be shipped at.
the rate of one every other month, and
the price of $10.75 for each proof-
quality record will be guaranteed
throughout your subscription period.

To subscribe now, mail the accom-
panying application to The Franklin
Mint Record Society, Franklin Center,
PA 19091, by February 29, 1984.

“How 2 months'salary
wound up on Julie's finger.”

Take a look at Julie. No matter where we go, everyone does. So I wanted to get
her the biggest diamond I could afford. One that other men could see without getting
too close. Okay, now take a close look at the diamond. Sure, its big, but it’s also beautiful.
Just like Julie. Now I'm not rich or anything. But I found out that 2 months' salary is
about what a really nice diamond costs nowadays. 1/3carat__1/2carat__3/4carat [carat

It comes down to a question of priorities. And Р
2 8 о &

what's more important than the woman you love?
$600. $1200- $2000- $3000-

$1700 $3500 $6000 $11000°

actual size

*Prices shown cover diamonds of medium color and clarity ranges based on retail quotations
which may vary. Send for the booklet, "Everything You'd Love to Know... About Diamonds.”

Just mail $1 to Diamond Information Center, Dept. PL Box 1344, NY, NY. 10101-1344. А diamond is forever. De Beers

DEAR PLAYBOY

ADDRESS DEAR PLAYBOY
PLAYBOY BUILDING
919 N. MICHIGAN AVE.
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611

ROUND-THE-CLOCK NEGOTIATIONS
Congratulations. Laurence Shames’s

Sex in the Age of Negotiation (PLAYBOY,
November) is a thought-provoking com-
mentary on the changing face of man-
woman relationships. We're weary of the
fast lane and we're looking for people who
will be around for a while, who have simi-
lar ideals and goals—people with whom
we can really share at least part of our
lives. Marriage isn’t mandatory. Good
communication is.

Veronica Fraga

West New York, New Jersey

Sex in the Age of Negotiation causes me,
as a female reader, to wince. Lying is,
after all, not negotiation; lying is lying.
Many women today will not react to lies
with silent tears, and some of their reac-
tions will be strong enough to be down-
right uncomfortable to men. There are
women who prefer casual sex and appre-
ciate its lack of complications—those
drunken laments at dawn, those shouting
matches at the curb—as much as any man.
‘An honest synchronization of expectations
not only makes sense, it is also a humane
approach to sex. There’s nothing wrong
with knowing what you want and accept-
ing only that, but using someone who
wants something you know you can't give

is unethical—as Shames should know.
Ruth Walker Ansara
Portland, Oregon
THE FAIR SEXES

Your Men and Women segments are
the best parts of PLAYBOY. Asa Baber
represents the best characteristics—emo-
tional competence, an angry questioning
of roles and sensitivity to women and other
men—that feminism has produced in men,
though Im sure he would not indulge in
the conceit of claiming to be “liberated,”
whatever that is. Cynthia Heimel is clear-
ly a front-line veteran of the war between
the sexes. She is witty, urbane, angry,
even cynical but still in there fighting the

good fight for Everywoman. And both of
them are capable of great charm. Whatev-
er you do, don’t let them meet each other.
They'd probably make the perfect couple,
which would take the scathe right out of
their commentary.

Robert A. Cohen

Springfield, Massachusetts

FEEL BETTER NOW?

As an educator in a major metropolitan
hospital, I was delighted to find your hom-
age to nurses (Women in White) in the
November issue. And as a longtime sub-
scriber to PLAYBOY, I note that my col-
leagues compare quite favorably with
women from other vocations you have fea-
tured in the past. I am also heartened that
so many of the nurses I know reacted in a
positive way to the article and pictorial.
‘Thanks again for a thoughtful and attrac-
tive look at the women who prompted me
to get into health care in the first place.

John P. Potter
Huntington Beach, California

Women in White is a masterpiece. The
text is intelligent and informative, and the
women are truly beautiful.
C. P. Douglas
Monterey, California

I am a 29-year-old registered nurse
who is extremely offended by Women in
White. Granted, the women in your picto-
rial are all lovely and all have off-duty
identities. But why couldn't you simply
have shown that side of them? Why drag
the profession of nursing into it? In an age
in which anyone with respect for profes-
sionalism tries to dispel the myth of the
nursc as scx symbol, you attempt to per-
petuate it. Please—we get enough exploi-
tation on television and in the movies.

Peggy Maiuro, R.N.
Wharton, New Jersey

Thank you for allowing nurses to ex-
pose their feelings as well as their bodies

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in your November issue. The public needs
to be aware of the large numbers of gifted,
intelligent nurses leaving the profession
because of poor pay and lack of recogni-
tion. Unless nurses assert their rights, this
trend will continue, to the detriment of all
people.

Teresa M. Webster, R.N.

Huntsville, Alabama

Unfortunately, your “nice tribute” to
women in white simply reinforces the Ш-
deserved sexual typing of an entire profes-
sion. This sexism is a disease that has
plagued nursing for some time, and I sug-
gest that the media are the cause of the
illness. You see, we deal with human bod-
ies on a life-and-death basis; your playful
pictorial is grossly inappropriate in light
of what we are really about. Incidentally,
in rare instances, you do find a nurse who
is romantically involved with a doctor. My
wife is a physician.

Robert Hess, R.N., C.C.R.N.
East Orange General Hospital
East Orange, New Jersey

Women in White is unsurpassed by any
other pictorial I have seen. These women
are not only gorgeous, they’re smart. I feel
weak.

Eric Wood
Bellevue, Washington

I am outraged and disgusted by your
pictorial Women in White. It is degrading
to women in general and to women in the
nursing profession specifically. It is bla-
tantly sexist and serves only to perpetuate
a disgusting attitude. The nurses who
participated in your feature are naive if
they think that this kind of nauseating
journalism can ever enhance nursing's
professional image. This is utter rape of a
professional group, and I am outraged, as
I happen to be one of its members!

Margaret A. Smerlinski, R.N.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Of all those who wrote to us in response
to our ad seeking candidates to pose for
“Women in White,” Jackie Simmons, a
doctoral candidate at Rush University’s
College of Nursing, came closest to the
spirit we hoped to portray: “Why
shouldn't а sexy, appealing nurse be able
to pose for your magazine without being
condemned by her professional peers to
wear a scarlet letter? Nurses have seen
themselves as unattractive handmaidens
for too long. I admire you for trying to
portray us in a different light.”

LESS IS MORE

As a manufacturer of portable comput-
ers, we must take exception to a reply in
the July Playboy Advisor about using
those machines on a plane. Not all porta-
ble computers give off radio signals that
interfere with a plane's instruments. Some

portables now on the market use six-volt
batteries, which are much less likely to
interfere with the operation of a plane
than the 110-volt batteries earlier models
required. We would, however, encourage
owners of portable computers to declare
them upon boarding a commercial air-
craft so that the pilot can make the final
decision on their use during the flight.
Contrary to your comments, portable
computers are now available that are no
bigger than this magazine page and light
enough to be carried in a briefcase. Some
machines—ours among them—can run up
to 50 hours without recharging.

Bob Walker

Epson America, Inc.

Los Angeles, California

TIED UP IN NOTS
In my Playboy Interview (December),
you quote me as saying that while I do not
think my political opinions should count
more because I’m an actor, they should
count less. What I said, of course, was that
I feel they should not count any less.
Tom Selleck
Los Angeles, California
Right you are, Tom. Sorry for the slip.

WE ADMIRE HIS HOUSE
If you admire Kenny Rogers’ (Playboy

Interview, November) wealth, status,
looks or vocal ability, you are way off
base. Call it presumptuous, but I feel I can
speak for a lot of women who adore the
man simply because he appears to have
a sincere, down-to-earth perspective on
himself, No flash. No glitter. No arro-
gance. Just warmth and charm that are
conveyed openly and intelligently. He is,
simply, what he is. And I think that is
damn sexy.

Dana Harwood

Madison, Wisconsin

Kenny Rogers is a nice man, but as
even he will admit, he’s boring. Give
David Rensin someone like Boy George of

Culture Club to interview.
Vince Kelly
Hermosa Beach, California

WONDER BREADTH

An interesting statistic I always seem to
find in my reading material is the old
80-20 rule. That is, 80 percent of the
business is done by 20 percent of the sales-
people. The lower 80 percent share the
leftover 20 percent of the business. When I
read the statistics on crect-penis circum-
ferences in November's Playboy Advisor, Y
found out where I stood on nonbusiness
skills. Applying the percentages you give,
I was pleased to find that I was in the top
20 percent, with a five-and-a-half-inch
circumference of my erect penis. With a
little more information on penis-length

statistics, I'll bet I could show you that 20
percent of the male population is hung
with 80 percent of the meat.
(Name withheld by request)
Lubbock, Texas
But why would you want to? It’s not the
meat, it’s the emotion.

LAGAMBA
I've never written to a magazine be-
fore, but after one glimpse of November
Playmate Veronica Gamba, I can’t resist.
Congratulations and many thanks to Arny
Freytag for his fine photographs of a
heart-stopping beauty.
David N. Ward
Fort Riley, Kansas

Veronica Gamba is the most beautiful
woman you have ever featured. Her pic-
tures serve as perfect wall ornaments here
at the Penn State dormitories. Let’s see
more of her so all of us students will have
something to study harder for.

Ronald H. Betz
Bethel Park, Pennsylvania

Because of my extreme nervousness
while typing this letter, please excuse any
spelling or grammatical errors. The rea-
son I'm nervous? I can’t keep my cycs off
the shattering photographs of Veronica
Gamba in your November issue. She
undoubtedly possesses the greatest set of
gluteus maximus muscles in the universe.
"The exquisite beauty and sensuousness of
the lady—and Arny Freytag’s matchless
photography—have just about reduced me
toa trembling, wild-cyed idiot.

Lanny R. Middings
San Ramon, California

Just about? Then maybe one more look

at the matchless Veronica will push you to

total vegetability. Lanny? Are you still
photosensitive?

= lO}
23 Main St., Lynchburg, TN 37352

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My $6.50 price includes postage
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Мааа а ra he
magazines test radar detectors. ESCORT
comes out on top. Its performance has be-
come something of a legend, because we
believed the only way we could have the
best detector possible was to makeit ourselves.

Credentials

Our success is a matter of record. In
ESCORT sfirst magazine test, Car and Driver
rated it highest by a wide margin. Recently,
thesame magazine tested a new ESCORT with
ST/O/P" (STatistical Operations Processor)
and concluded that it "is clearly the leader
in the field in value, customer service, and
performance..."

Digital

Processor
Circultry

We're particularly proud of that quote be-
cause it credits ESCORT with more than just
industry-leading performance. Just as we
designed ESCORT to be the best detector
possible, we knew there had to be a way to
take better care of customers than the usual
retail distribution system. That's why we have
no dealers. From the beginning, we've sold
all ESCORT's direct from the factory.

No Middlemen

You see, we know how difficult it is to buy
а camera or stereo component, or any pre-
cision gear. Every store has different prices
so you feel obligated to shop around. Then
you have to wait for a salesman. He may not
know much about the products or may try to
get you to choose another brand. And the
week after you buy, they go on sale.

We don't want any middlemen speaking
forus. The ESCORT isa precision microwave
receiver made to warn you of police radar. On
that sort cf purchase, we think you'd prefer
to deal with experts. When you dial our toll-
free number, you're talking to the factory:
One Microwave Plaza. All of our engineering,
manufacturing, sales and service happen
under this one roof. The buck stops here, you
might say. And you always know where to
find us.

RADAR CONNECTION

No Respect

If you've ever taken any high-tech equip-
ment back for service, you may have noticed
another problem with retail distribution. Once
in a great while, the dealer can fix the equip-
ment. But sometimes they fix it wrong, or
say they can't get parts and try to sell you a
replacement.

Or you find they “don't carry that brand
anymore”. Then youre stuck with the task of
tracking down another dealer, or trying to deal
direct with a factory that isn't set up to serve
consumers. And if the manufacturer happens
to be in another country, well, you get the
picture.

THE RADAR
DEFENSE
KIT

No Runaround

At Cincinnati Microwave, we treat cus-
tomer service differently, and for a very good
reason. We don't have a network of hungry
dealers, we've got something far more per-
suasive: Hundreds of thousands of satisfied
owners. In fact, the chances are pretty good
someone you know owns an ESCORT. We try
our best to please our customers after the
sale, because they are the biggest source of
new sales. It's that simple.

You should also know that we'll fix any
ESCORT, no matter how old. We don't believe
in planned obsolescence. While our competi-
tors are proliferating models, we're working
to make ESCORT better. When we find an
improvement, it goesstraight into production.
So ESCORT is always state-of-the-art.

No Waiting

Keeping up with the latest technology is
only one advantage of dealing direct. You don't
have to waitin line; you don't even have to go
tothe store. Just reach for your phone—were
only a parcel delivery away. Take the first 30
days with ESCORT as a test. If you're not
absolutely satisfied, we'll refund your purchase
and pay for the postage to return it. You can't
lose. We also back ESCORT with a full one
year limited warranty on both parts and labor.
Life under the radar gun is a lot easier with
ESCORT.

Do It Today

By Phone: Call us toll free. A member of
our sales staff will be glad to answer any
questions and take your order (Please have

your Visa or MasterCard at hand when you call),
CALL TOLL FREE. . . . 800-543-1608
IN OHIO CALL....... 800-582-2696

By Mail: We'll need to know your name and
street address, daytime phone number, and how
many ESCORTs you want. Please enclose a
check, money order, or the card numbes and
expiration date from your Visa or MasterCard.

es
- $245.00
Ohio residents add $13.48 sales tax.

Speedy Delivery
її you order with a bank check, money order,
credit card, or wire transfer, your order is proc-
essed for shipment immediately. Personal or
‘company checks require an additional 18 days.

RADAR WARNING RECEIVER

Cincinnati Microwave
Department 207

One Microwave Plaza
Cincinnati, Ohio 45242-9502

Tune in Talkback with Jerry Galvin: America's new weekly satellite call-in comedy talk show. Sunday evenings on public radio stations. Check local listings.

PLAYBOY AFTER

MARITAL SPLAT

Yilong, a 42-year-old, four-ton ele-
phant in China's Canton Zoo, came into
heat last summer. But when Baibao, a 53-
year-old, six-ton male that had previously
sired four of Yilong's offspring, decided he
had a headache, the jilted lover grew
determined to give him a real one.

Yilong began butting the male with her
head. Baibao lost his balance and fell into
the moat surrounding the elephants' en-
closure on his back. Yilong, perhaps in a
fit of passion, then fell on top of him. And
before 100 rescuers could extricate the
pair, both struggled so hard they couldn't
breathe. In a tragedy that carried even
more weight than Romeo and Juliet, the
elephants died.

A Canton newspaper reported that the
two will be stuffed and “mounted for dis-
play." In what position hasn't yet been
decided.

At the University of Georgia, it seems
there was some question as to whether ог
not athletes were afforded special aca-
demic consideration. UG's vice-president
for academic affairs, Dr. Virginia Trotter,
explained why she decided on an academic
exception for some athletes: “I would
rather err on the side of making a mis-
take.”

"BUSH REMARK IRKS FEMINISTS" read the
headline in the Quincy, Massachusetts,
Patriot Ledger. Careful readers learned
that the Vice-President should watch his
mouth.

А male dancer іп the London Festival
Ballet, fired because he lacked the strength
to lift ballerinas, is suing. Artistic director
John Field explained to an industrial
court that Geoffrey Wynne’s “appearance
onstage was rather effeminate, While
some dancers are not exactly manly, they

must portray a virility that was not in
Geoffrey.” The tribunal chairman later
announced that Wynne’s dismissal was
unfair because he could have been de-
moted to the ballet corps, but allowed for
further hearings.
0

In the West Bend, Wisconsin, News’s
“120 Years Ago” column, we ran across
this: “We today received from Missouri a
shipment of the largest hickory nuts we
ever saw. The average is five and a half
inches in circumference, the largest is sev-
en and five-eighths inches. If there is any
man in this state who has larger nuts, we
should like to hear from him." As far as
we know, the offer still stands.

SWAT TEAM

Why bother to build a better fly swatter
when all you have to do is change the way
you swat? Some uscful new advice (based
on a letter in Nature) comes from the

Chemical & Engineering News. A fly has
a high-speed reflex system in its visual-
brain motor arrangement that allows it to
take off at an avoiding angle as soon as а
threatening swat comes into view. The
solution is to approach the fly from two
directions at once, thus short-circuiting its
central nervous system, which is set up to
avoid approaching movement from only
one direction at a time. The researcher
recommends taking a piece of tissue in
each hand and keeping the hands equidis-
tant from the target, then pouncing with
them simultaneously. Isn’t science fun?
б

Royal treatment: Queen Elizabeth's
youngest, Prince Edward, is studying at
Cambridge now, and his head porter,
John Haycock, has the responsibility of
keeping the lad in check. And what does
he do when the prince is misbehaving? He
tells him, “‘Sir, you are a worm.’ It
always seems to work.”

•

Don't know what to do with your
nights alone with that certain someone?
Try having An Enchanted Evening. This
board game (with four sets of cards) is
supposed to guarantee a romantic time for
newlyweds and those "involved in a loving
relationship.” The players are required to
give compliments, fulfill secret wishes and
engage in soft, sensuous touching. The
game’s manufacturer says it’s even pre-
scribed by psychologists for couples in
marital therapy to help them unleash their
inhibitions. It’s all yours if you want to
unleash $20 to Games Partnerships, P.O.
Box 306, Half Moon Bay, California
94019. Otherwise, you may just blow it.

A REVOLTING PERFORMANCE
John Teasley, a guitarist with the
McDowell County Line band, really
seemed to be getting down during a con-
cert in Orange County, California. In the

Storing as much information as possible in the smallest available space has
always been one of man's preoccupations. The ancients—those born before the
floppy disk—had to make do with the aphorism, an eternal truth packed into a
‘one-liner so pithy even a son-in-law could remember it. Not only were aphorisms
memorable, they were infinitely flexible; no matter which side of an argument one
was on, one could always find a bit of wisdom with which to cover one's posterior,
an aphorism to battle an aphorism. We asked Lenny Kleinfeld for examples.

Opportunity knocks but once.
—ANONYMOUS
Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
—SAINT JEROME

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
— SEXTUS AURELIUS

Haste makes waste. —JOHN HEYWOOD

Love conquers all things. Маси.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
—LORD ACTON

Forgive and forget. — CERVANTES

A bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush. — CERVANTES
Nothing endures but change.
—HERACLITUs
No evil can happen to a good man.
—PLATO
There is no sin but ignorance.
— CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
All heiresses are beautiful,
—JOHN DRYDEN
If the path be beautiful, let us not ask
where it leads. —ANATOLE FRANCE

Let your conscience be your guide.
—POPE

‘Turn the other cheek. — Jesus CHRIST

It’s not whether you win or lose but
how you played the game.
—GRANTLAND RICE
Better to light one candle than to curse
the darkness.
— MOTTO, CHRISTOPHER SOCIETY
If at first you don’t succeed, try, try
again. —WILLIAM EDWARD HICKSON
Discretion is the better part of valor.
—SHAKESPEARE

There is no proverb that is not true.
—CERVANTES

Look before you leap.
— SAMUEL BUTLER.

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.
мас
Out of sight is out of mind.
—ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH
He who hesitates is lost. —ANONYMOUS
Never sleep with a woman whose trou-

bles are worse than your own.
— NELSON ALGREN

God helps them that helps themselves.
—BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
— EXODUS

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
—ANONYMOUS

"The more things change, the more they
remain the same. —ALPHONSE KARR

Nice guys finish last. —LEO DUROCHER

Ignorance is bliss. —THOMASGRAY

Let sleeping dogs lie.
— CHARLES DICKENS
Fools rush in where angels fear to
tread. —-ALEXANDER POPE.
Conscience doth make cowards of us
all. — WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

Wall softly and carry a big stick.
— THEODORE ROOSEVELT

The ends justify the means.
—after MATTHEW PRIOR

What you don't know can't hurt you.
— ANONYMOUS

No use beating a dead horse.
—ANONYMOUS

Audacity, and again audacity, and al-
ways audacity.
— GEORGES JACQUES DANTON

General notions are generally wrong.
— LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU

middle of a spirited number, the musician,
known professionally as John T., ap-
peared to fling himself off the stage some
30 feet into the audience, where he began
writhing madly. 'The crowd went nuts,
cheering and applauding.

John T. was, however, in the process of
geiting fried. Someone had spilled beer on
an amplifier, and the guitarist’s gyrations
were caused by electrical current mega-
chording through his body.

Teasley tried to call out for help but
found he couldn’t speak. Then he remem-
bered that his father had told him, should
he ever get caught up in electricity, to hurl
himself free of the current. His dive off the
stage eventually pulled all the plugs
loose.

“Pye done some pretty wild things
onstage before,” said a shocked John T.,
“but nothing can top that. It was a night to
remember, PI tell you.”

The right stuffing: Margaret Thatcher
agreed to lend her childhood Teddy bear,
Humphrey, for a Teddy bears’ picnic at
Belvoir Castle, according to the London
Daily Telegraph.

Tired of filthy phone conversations?
‘The Telephone Aromatizer—all the way
from Peking—is the answer. It fits onto
the mouthpiece of the phone, killing odors
and germs for 30 days. The Aromatizer
comes in red, pink, blue and green and in
fragrances that probably include spring
roll and garlic chicken.

.
Especially if she's smiling: According to
a study on human behavior by New York
University professor Dr. Samuel Marc, if.
a woman has wrinkles at the corners of
her mouth, it indicates she enjoys sex.
.
In Portsmouth, Virginia, there is the
Loving & Gay Funeral Home.
.

The Detroit Free Press can take a bow
for its headline *FHA CAN BE SUED FOR BUM
INSPECTIONS." Particularly if the parties
have not been properly introduced.

•

Villagers in southern Bangladesh were
outraged when 104-year-old Ali Azam, an
Islamic priest, married his fifth wife, 16-
year-old Marium Begum. They contend
that he violated Islamic law, which sets a
four-wife limit. The priest defended him-
self by insisting that he had married the
girl only to save her from starvation.

ШО Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined
E That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health.

17 ma "tar;' 11 mg nicotine av. per cigarette, FTC Report Mar’83

After five bruising years catching passes.
for the Dallas Cowboys, Peter Gent wrote
“North Dallas Forty," a novel about the
underside of pro football that knocked the
N.F.L. for a loop. John A. Walsh recently
caught up with Gent, who once again has
stirred up the football world with “The
Franchise,” a novel about corruption and
gambling in the professional game.

PLAYBOY: What tells you that an ex-foot-
ball player has made the adjustment to
civilian life?

cent: Football is a performing art where
you have this tremendous high. Lots of
guys will get into businesses—oil, real
estate—that give them the sense of adven-
ture, excitement and chase. But I don't
know a lot of guys who don't miss football.
They don't miss the game, they miss the
guys, that sense of shared adventure.
PLAYROY: What are the classic signs of
maladjustment?

GENT: It actually starts when you're play-
ing. You're maladjusted as a player—
that’s why you play; you're maladjusted to
society. Society doesn’t work in those
peaks and valleys. Athletes are like manic-
depressives, reaching extreme highs fol-
lowed by extreme lows.

PLAYBOY: But in real life, what signs do
ex-football players give off?

cent: Heavy drinking. A continued in-
terest in the actual playing of the game.
I's almost as if they believe that they're
going to get to go around again. The guys
who adjust don't go back to the games;
they don't even watch them much. The
guys who have gone into the business
world have replaced the thrill of playing
with the thrill of betting. Key signs are
that a lot of marriages break up and alco-
hol becomes a real problem. At one time, I
think, the union was saying that half the
players leaving the game were alcoholics.

A large percentage of the families are
devastated. The change and the pressure
are so great: Sunday is no longer the justi-
fication for Daddy’s existence. It takes a
very strong family tie and a very deep
commitment to one another to get through
it. And that can take a long time. I'll bet
the divorce rate is about 75 percent.
rLAYBOY: When you talk with former play-
ers, do they talk about that much?

GENT: A lot. "That's usually the first thing
you find out: who's still married.

One of the greatest stresses is that the
player can finally share the secrets he's
carried with him in the game, such as
what he did to keep going that he didn't
think his wife would approve of —whether.
it was drugs, drinking, women, whatever.
Often, under the strain of the player's dis-
jointed feeling of no longer being anybody,
as he tries to explain himself, part of the
explaining process is а confession.
т.лувоу: Did you know players who bet?

A former Dallas Cowboy
answers questions the N.F.L.
wishes we'd never asked.

GENT: Yeah. A lot of guys like to gamble. I
never did. I related it to religion. That's
what betting is: “God loves me; I'm going
to cover the spread.” It seemed that the
guys who liked to bet were the guys who
had a strong religious upbringing.
PLAYBOY: If you knew a teammate who bet,
what was he like?

GENT: Some players would talk about the
spread for an upcoming game, but bets
weren’t made in the locker room. There
was one quarterback who bet a lot—
$3000 or $4000—on his team. They were
favored by so many points and he bet
below the spread. He claimed to have
thrown an interception—and had to throw
it twice; the guy dropped the first one. His
team still won the game. His story, which
Theard while sitting at a bar after both of
us had quit playing, was that when the
guy got in, he looked back at his bench and
about half the guys were standing there
cheering for him. So they had bet the
spread, too. Whether or not that event is
inflated, I have no way of knowing. But
all in all, I think betting in the N.F.L. was
and is on a very small scale.

PLAYBOY: What's the real feeling among
N.F.L. players today about drugs?

GENT: In about 1967, amyl nitrite was an
over-the-counter drug for people who suf-
fered from angina. I talked to several doc-
tors who told me it basically didn’t do any
damage; it speeded up your heart and
pumped a lot of oxygen to your brain,
which puts you in another level of con-

sciousness. At camp, I explained that this
drug was legal and cheap—it cost about
two dollars for 12 ampules of it—every-
body tried it and went crazy on it. All you
had to say was “The doctor says it’s fine.”
And what you'd see were players who
were strongly against illegal drugs go on
what was like an acid trip for about two
minutes. There were no qualms about
doing it in public. I remember a bar where
the maitre d’ came over and told us that if
we didn't stop throwing the empty am-
pules at the customers, we were going to
have to leave. But it was legal, and nobody
felt he was damaging himself and every-
body had a wonderful time.

When it became a prescription drug
and went up to about nine dollars a box,
there was hysteria. The guys who were
antidrug immediately returned to the anti-
drug position of “Well, we can’t do that
anymore.” It never entered their minds to
question who made that rule and why.

The arbitrary line between use of drugs
to perform a specific task—those prescribed
by team doctors—and use of drugs socially
makes the player generally cynical.
PLAYBOY: Why are only black football
players being busted for drugs?

GENT: I don’t think it’s racially motivated.
It just happens that a lot of the superstars
getting all this money are black, And
because they’re black, they can’t blend in
as easily in the elite white night club
where half the patrons are doing cocaine.
Also, because of their ghetto roots, many
of them go back to the old neighborhood to
get their drugs, and there’s bound to be a
snitch on the corner watching a buy go
down. There are probably more DEA
agents working in the ghettos than in the
big, expensive night clubs in Dallas where
the white player is likely to make his con-
nection. It’s a reflection of the culture.
PLAYBOY: Is Commissioner Rozelle doing
what he should?

GENT: I’m not so sure that the suspensions
were what he wanted to do. They might
have been forced on him. Second, the de-
tox programs—that’s another scam,
another bureaucracy setting itself up.
That's Calvin Hill going around taking
your urine. At what point do we stop
dehumanizing these guys?

PLAYBOY: When you researched The Fran-
chise, what were the most surprising dis-
coveries you made about football?

GENT: The politics in Washington—how
political tie-ins there are so important to
the league because of antitrust. Deep ties.
‘The ties to organized crime. And the ways
bureaucracies in sports function, a good
example being the union. And what fran-
chising is, which is creation of wealth from
nothing. Just standing up and saying,
“We're going to put a franchise here and
create all this artificial wealth by writing
numbers on pieces of paper and attaching

values to men's bodies." To see how close
we are now, with pay TV, to billion-
dollar gates for the Super Bowl. How
networks are going to be built around soft-
ware and how football players are soft-
ware. Athletic events are much cheaper to
put on than dramatic events.

PLAYBOY: What did you find out about the
connections between organized crime and
football?

Gent: Large-scale scalping. There are
groups that offer services to the teams
years ahead: “If you win the Super Bowl,
we will supply the travel arrangements for
your fans, block book the rooms, get the
tickets." That means somebody is telling
them, before it’s announced where the
Super Bowl will be, where to get the hotel
rooms. Who controls that? I mean, if
you’re going to get a billion-dollar gate for
one Super Bowl, a lot of people are going
to fight over that: the union, the owners,
the TV people. And the players sit there
and think they make all the money when,
in reality, they get a smaller percentage of
the total income now than they ever did.
In this last agreement, they pretty much
crippled themselves.

PLAYBOY: How did you research fixing a
game?

GENT: I talked with about 20 players who
had been in games they thought might
have been fixed. I’m beginning to think 7
may have been in a fixed game. Гт not
accusing Tom Landry or anybody of fix-
ing a game, but I remember once when
something happened that never happened
before or since. I've mentioned this several
times before, and there's never been a
response to it. It was fourth down, 17 sec-
onds to go, no time outs, and the play was
a pass to Frank Clarke at split end; and as
the team broke the huddle, in came Bobby
Hayes. Hayes never came in on the goal
line—ever. INow, I assumed he was sent in
by Landry, and so did Clarke, and every-
body had been so trained. Clarke ran off
the field before Don Meredith could get
him. Well, Hayes didn't know how to run
the play and it ended with an interception
Tt was a key play in a championship game.
And it probably cost us at least a tie to go
into overtime.

PLAYBOY: What are other signs of fixing?

GENT: Late flags. It doesn’t take many 15-
yard flags to change a game’s complexion
PLAYBOY: Do you still watch the games
much on TV?

cent: Not much. One reason is that the
announcers are so distracting. They're not
describing what’s happening on the field
They're describing what they think
they're seeing. Even when I'm watching
the Cowboys, by the third quarter, 1 find
myself reading the newspaper. I think
about football at times every day. I guess
ГЇЇ always be an athlete. I stayed true to
myself and to the game and played five
years in the N.F.L. with a good football
team and played well. No matter how sore
Т am every morning when I get up, I still
have that; they can’t take it away from me.

Na scoren weis

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MUSIC

IFE GETS BETTER: Graham Parker gets

good ink. Ever since his debut with the
Rumour, back in the pop Sahara of the
mid-Seventies, Parker's records have got-
ten the kind of surgical analysis that
screams from music pages everywhere,
"Keep slugging, bucko; we're out here lis-
tening." Nice rubs of attention, sure, but
hardly important. Critics are the grace
notes in a musician's career. They love
and hate on paper and get their records
free.

And reviews have precious little effect
on record sales. Look at Air Supply and
REO Speedwagon and Asia. For all of
Parker’s critical recognition, he doesn’t
make the top-ten charts. His mid-size
following hasn’t grown much over the
years, and none of his albums turn gold.
It’s a curious situation for an artist of
considerable talent, but not altogether
unaccountable. Parker’s a clever poet and
occasionally a profound observer. His mu-
sic is a mixture of R&B and British pop,
reggae and blue-eyed soul. Which is to
say, it’s hard to classify. No hooks and
jingles, no mainstream appeal.

But things have settled down for Parker
on The Real Macaw (Arista), his latest
album, a strikingly commercial piece of
work. It’s also his best so far. Anger and
cynicism have given way to a savvier spirit
of anarchy. On a few songs, he sounds
downright happy.

“I have so many serious album titles,”
he says. “You know, Squeezing out Sparks
and Another Grey Area. They're a bit self-
important. It’s time for something light-
hearted.” Parker huddles to one side of an
overstuffed chair in a hotel lounge in Chi-
cago. His wiry, 5/5" body is draped in
dark, loose-fitting clothes. He wears sun-
glasses despite the poor lighting and sips
water. He is luminously pale. At first
glance, he’s hardly a portrait of lightheart-
edness. But as he talks, fashioning earnest

explanations peppered with wry humor,
this is surely the guy who just wrote a
song called Life Gets Better.

He tells a story about his concert at
Park West in Chicago. “I sang one verse
to Just Like a Man three times,” he says.
“And I saw these two girls down front
singing along. I was grinning at them,
like, ‘You know the words, but I don't."

“Sometimes you get blasé when you
tour too much. I’ve done that in the past. It
gets to be just a blur of faces. But now
they’ve come back into focus real clearly
for me.”

Ard that's good news, because Parker's
focus has been untracked more than once
by the business side of his music making.
He believes that he hasn’t been promoted
enough. “How am I supposed to sell a lot
of albums,” he has wondered aloud to
record-company moguls, “if I don’t get
some promotion?” In the record business,
promotion is a reward. That’s what you
gct when you bring your label one of those
attractive platinum wall hangings. Or
when you sound like someone who might.
The system is fickle—all head, no heart.
So if you’re Parker, with tantalized critics
and tenuous sales, you may as well get
used to economy class and a certain degree
of anonymity.

Inthe past, Parker has moaned out loud
about the system; he even recorded Mer-
cury Poisoning as his last contractual obli-
gation to his former record company,
Mercury. But now, as his life gets better,
Parker manages to sound at least resigned:
“There's Graham Parker promotion and
there’s Jackson Browne promotion,” he
says quickly. “It’s not the same league."

“What would I do if I could promote
myself?” Parker is amused by the ques-
tion. “What I'd like to see with a record is
visibility,” he says. “Like stickers, you
know, that you walk around sticking on
the subway. Im thinking of something

sort of ...sneaky...." He gazes across
the lounge in search of something sort of
sneaky. In a minute, his bony face bright-
ens with a smile and he turns back the
trademark sunglasses in triumph. “Giant
macaws,” he says. “Giant macaws—air-
planes towing them. That would be
great.” — PAMELA MARIN

REVIEWS

Maybe it’s just coincidence, but two
new Warner albums—Slow Burn, by T. С.
Sheppard, and Cage rhe Songbird, by
Crystal Gayle—appear to respect the
tendency of some country music to evolve
naturally from highly structured honky-
tonk to a more contemporary sound that
doesn’t try to compete with rock. That is
finc: As long as the lyrics are а bit naive,
the appeal unsophisticated and the senti-
ments a little maudlin, C&W can retain
its identity despite different styles. These
albums have a similar mellow quality that
makes for nice travelin' music, as in the
old car stereo.

Free Flight, a quartet of extraordinary
musicians— Jim Walker (flutes and pi
colo), Milcho Leviev (keyboards and syn-
thesizers), Jim Lacefield (acoustic and
electric basses) and Ralph Humphrey
(drums and percussion)—commands your
attention. The group offers a distinctly
modern fusion of jazz and classical con-
cepts and techniques on Soaring (Palo
Alto). Virtuosity is the key; the foursome
moves with ease through material ranging

TRUST US —

. Cyndi Lauper / She's So Unusual
. Carly Simon / Hello Big Man
. T-Bone Burnett / Proof Through the

Night
4. Michael Bloomfield / Bloomfield: A

Retrospective.
5. Al Di Meola / Scenario

LAN
nor Г ШУ

Wishbone Ash / Twin Barrels Burning

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from straight jazz to classical works utiliz-
ing jazz rhythms and coloration. The
music comes at you in a rush, enhanced by
an impressive assortment of electronic and
instrumental sounds. You wonder if it all
isn't too busy, too facile, too controlled and
slick. But wait. The fully realized pieces,
such as Adagio, a reworking of Joaquin
Rodrigo's famed Concierto de Aranjuez,
are so beautiful and convincing they're
impossible to dismiss.

Don St. Was and David St. Was have
now demonstrated that two white boys
from Detroit can successfully blend such
divergent elements of their roots as the
very smoothest R&B and screaming rock
"n' roll with high tech to produce a very
clean machine, indeed. Bem to Laugh of Tor-
побогу (Geffen) is no Edsel. Side one
proves that Was (Not Was) can pull off
ferocious licks with the best of them and is,
incidentally, a strange place to find Mitch
Ryder at his best, in Bow Wow Wow
Wow. The album’s first track, Knocked
Down, Made Small (Treated Like a Rub-
ber Ball), could be the anthem for the state
of alicnation. Side two proves that Was
(Not Was) can do almost anything else.
The Party Broke Up is an electronic rap
for the discombobulated (“Someone began
to discuss paranoia / When lightning de-
stroyed / Half the room / With опе
blast”). Zaz Turned Blue comes
croooooned, beautifully but not without
parody— not without hearts-and-flowers
Strings and a sweet solo piano—by none
other than Mel Tormé. Tony Bennett, we
must assume, may soon be sitting in with
EBN-OZN. It's a lounge song for those
who see lizards that aren't really there.
Strange little narratives in strange voices,
backed by music that alternates synthesiz-
er baloney, the Motown sound and a syn-
thesis of the best in new music—that's
Was (Not Was). We'll forgive them their
overuse of parentheses if they keep mak-
ing records like this.

Albert King, a giant of a man who sings
and plays dynamite guitar, makes the
blues everybody's business. Alber King—
San Francisco 83 (Fantasy) marks this great
artist’s return to records after an absence
of a few years. Focusing on a repertoire of
the old and the new, he sings and talks
the blues warmly and with considerable
charm—the basic flavor, down-home
Southern. His guitarwork, as expected, is
full of juice.

SHORT CUTS

Ronnie Laws / Mr. Nice Guy (Capitol): Nice
and easy, nice and rough—Ronnie deliv-
ers the funk, plus a cool stroll through
Junior Walker’s classic What Does It
Take.

Pat Benatar / Live from Earth (Chrysalis):
Don't sell Benatar short—she can help us
all remember how bad 1977 was. But the
real Betty Boop is still better.

FAST TRACKS

THE ! DID IT MY WAY DEPARTMENT: And you thought the question of Pia Zadora's future
was of no interest to you. Think again, bunky. Pia is about to invade the world of rock 'n*
roli—literally. She's set to play a teenaged heroine involved with a creature from outer space
who hangs out with her crowd at school. The movie's called—are you ready?—Attack of the
Rock ‘n’ Roll Aliens. Wedon'tknow aboutyou, butwe're going to follow thisdevelopment closely.

RINCE AND THE SHOWGIRL: An open

audition for Prince's love interest in
his upcoming film, Purple Rain, was
held in New York. According to the
casting director, they are looking for a
voluptuous brunette between 18 and
21, 5/4" or under, with “an open, ripe
look.” We figure there must be thou-
sands of young women who fit that
description. If they aren’t able to find
her in New York, they'll look in L.A.
We don't know how to tell them, but
there are no brunettes in L.A.

NEWSBREAKS: Album notes: Merle Hag-
gerd plans to record with Linda Ronstadt.
Robert Plant wants Dave Stewort and Annie
Lennox of Eurythmics to contribute a song
or two to his next album, the Go-Go's’
third will be out shortly and Michael
Jackson is considering three songs by
Thomas Dolby for his next record... . Al
Jorreav plans to star in a TV movie
about Nat “King” Cole and do all the
singing. . . . Rick James says he's going to
give up touring “for at least four or five
years" and concentrate on his budding
movie career. . . . Jerry Hopkins is at work
оп a bio of David Bowie. . . . Some of the
top free-lance rock photographers met
to discuss fighting some recent concert
developments that they say are threat-
ening their ability to make a living.
The lensmen say that certain band
managers are insisting on final picture
approval, removing them from the
photo pit after the first three songs and
forcing them to sign agreements stating
that they'll sell pics to only one publi-
cation. That limits their possible
sources of income and makes it hard
for magazines and newspapers to get
the shots they want. . . . The Ventures
have filmed a TV special that features

the instrumental rock group playing its
biggest hits, with a revolving cast of
guest musicians who were influenced
by the group. For example, Peter Framp-
ton and Chris Spedding join in on Pipe-
line, Rick Derringer plays Memphis, Josie
Cotten sings Secret Agent Man. The
special, called Walk Don’t Run, will
also include vintage film footage of The
Ventures. In addition, such artists as
Marshall Crenshaw, The Cars, J. Geils and
Johnny Ramone will discuss The Ven-
tures’ musical influence on them. .
Michael Jackson and director John Lendi
are trying to work out the financing for
a ten-minute video clip for Thriller,
and if they're successful, you can ex-
pect to see it at the movies or on
ТУ. ... Here's a rumor we like: Talks
are progressing between the Stones and
Olympic officials. The group would
like to perform in L.A. at an outdoor
ceremony in front of a world-wide TV
audience estimated at one billion
people. . . . Marty Balin is shopping for a
new record label after successfully re-
cording a single in Japan with Japa-
nese musicians. . . . Smokey Robinson's
wife, Claudette, herself a former Miracle,
is doing the book version of her life.

REELING AND ROCKING: Director Hal
Ashby’s feature-length concert docu-
mentary Neil Young's Trans Solo Tour
was shot mostly at a Dayton, Ohio,
concert. Neil is joined by his band, The
Shocking Pinks. . Neal Schon of Journey
may play Mike Bloomfield onscreen.
Martin Scorsese Saw The Call's video The
Walls Came Down on MTV and liked
it so much he's considering leader Mike
Been for a role in his next film. Now,
that’s the way to get discovered.

— BARBARA NELLIS

MM “гє humor has long been recog-

zed as the riskiest literary shot
you can take, because, to paraphrase Dor-
othy Parker, any damn fool can rear up
with no more credentials than a birth cer-
tificate and announce, “I don’t think that’s
funny.” And what’s true for the writer is
also true for the editor who decides to col-
lect short humorous pieces into an anthol-
ору such as The Best of Modern Humor
(Knopf)—in this case, Mordecai Richler.
Forced to rate the funny us. the stupid
among these selections (get out your birth
certificates), we'd call it about 50-50.
"There are more than 60 writers here try-
ing to amuse you, so the odds are good
somebody will make you laugh. Dorothy
Parker's missing, because, as Richler tells
us in his introduction, he just doesn't think
she's funny anymore. At least she saw it
coming.

Think of Paul Fussell's Class: А Guide
Through the American Status System (Summit)
asa thinking man's Official Preppy Hand-
book—a book he both quotes and takes to
task. Fussell recognizes that class exists in
America and that everyone tries to ignore
it. He saves us a lot of tedium by holding
all classes in uniform contempt: The
Uppers are too dull and uncurious; the
Middles, too frightened and herdish; the
proles, too beaten and taste-free. F. Scott
Fitzgerald and John O'Hara took class to
laughable extremes; Jimmy Carter and
Richard Nixon didn’t take it seriously
enough. One is condemned to a class, but
Fussell describes a way out, an X category
of person whose freedom comes from the
enjoyment of his own thoughtfulness. He
also recognizes that the real issue is quali-
ty—a commodity that’s exponentially rar-
er every day.

Meet Joseph Shapiro, a wealthy,
worldly man with an expensive wife and.
an expensive mistress. Месї him several
years later, an impoverished Hasid with a
religious wife and three children. How
Joseph gets from A to B is the strongly
moral story of The Penitent (Farrar, Straus
& Giroux), by Isaac Bashevis Singer.
Frankly, Joseph, we'll take your former
life any time.

A deeply placed agent who has been
sending vital East German financial infor-
mation to London for 20 years wants out.
Bernard Samson, a British operative with
little regard for the bureaucratic formali-
ties of spying, is the logical choice to help
Brahms Four—as the agent is called —
escape. Trouble is, there's a leak some-
where. It could be coming from a disgrun-
tled, slightly shady Berlin agent or from
the philandering head of the Berlin station
or from a high-ranking mole in London

Many of the laughs fit to print.

Thrills from Len Deighton,
spills in The Oil Follies
and the best laughs around.

Deighton scales the Berlin Wall.

Central. Len Deighton’s Berlin Game
(Knopf) teases us with the possibilities.
Deighton writes with the crisp, cynical
observations that make the grit of espio-
nage seem real. Here's further proof that
he's a master of the spy thriller.

When the Lord handed out vit, British
writer Malcolm Bradbury was near the
front of the line. His Rates of Exchange
(Knopf) is a masterpiece of subtle comic
genius and literary sophistication, гє-

counting the adventures of naive British
exchange scholar Angus Petworth (gar-
bled variously into Pitwit and Pervert by
his foreign hosts), who lurches as graceful-
ly as possible through the bewildering
intrigues and red tape of police-state
bureaucracy їп an unstable Soviet-bloc
country called Slaka. Bradbury prepares
every word to be savored.
•

“If there is anything the oil industry
has been, it is consistent—consistent in its
pretension, its deceitfulness, its heavy-
handedness, its arrogance,” writes Robert
Sherrill in The Oil Follies of 1970-1980 (An-
chor). And on a year-by-year basis, Sher-
rill does a good job of backing up his angry
daim, showing that OPEC spelled back-
ward is conspiracy, that the shortages we
suffered through were manipulated, that
governments waltz through investigations
using data received from the oil companies
and little else. So what’s the problem for
the reader? Well, we've heard all this
before, for one thing. And for another, the
energy crisis seems to have faded for the
moment. So save this book for the next
time we've got gas lines and scare tactics:
It'll make great reading then.

BOOK BAG

The File (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich),
by Penn Kimball: Imagine that you are a
model citizen— distinguished journalist,
college professor, public servant, ex-Ma-
rine—and you suddenly discover that 30
years ago, the Government quietly de-
clared you a national-security risk and has
been keeping tabs on you ever since. The
author of this chilling account didn't have
to imagine all that; it was right there in his
FBI file—an instructive document to ex-
amine in this, the year of Orwell.

Bill Kurtis: On Assignment (Rand McNal-
ly) by Bill Kurtis The CBS Morning
News anchor man and TV journalist dis-
cusses his coverage of crises in Iran, Viet-
nam, El Salvador, Africa and Poland in
readable, informative, exciting fashion,
with some of his own fine photographs.

Woshingtoon (Congdon & Weed), by
Mark Alan Stamaty: Political satire of a
high order. Learn of the candidacy of Bob
Forehead. Watch charismaticians and
perceptual engineers work their magic on
him. Marvel at how the underprivileged
will probably remain that way. This book
is one more thing to laugh about this elec-
tion year.

The Ultimate Seduction (Doubleday), by
Charlotte Chandler: It’s the positive pow-
er of work, the author concludes in this
book based on interviews with the rich and
famous, many of them (e.g., Mae West,
Pablo Picasso) now dead. Notsurprisingly,
these people had a lot to say about sex.

MOVIES

By BRUCE WILLIAMSON

тоо BAD the producers of Gorky Park (Ori-
on) were not permitted to shoot Martin
Cruz Smith's exhilarating best seller in
Moscow. As a substitute, Helsinki in win-
ter serves very well, and the novel is well
served on all counts in Dennis Potter's
brisk adaptation, directed by Michael
Apted with cinematographer Ralf Bode as
his inventive collaborator (the two also did
fine work together on Coal Miner’s
Daughter). While anyone who has read
the book may be slower to take the hook
than I was, | am working my way up to
telling you this is one hell of a movie—the
sharpest, most provocative edge-of-your-
seat thriller in the past decade or so. Audi-
ences nowadays seem to snub films with a
strong political slant, so let’s set the record
straight on Gorky Park—it’s a whodunit
about three grisly murders, with more to
follow. It takes place in a heady milieu of
international intrigue and danger, crawl-
ing with K.G.B. men, would-be defectors,
traitors, con men and more than one ruth-
less killer. But the plot finally has more to
do with contraband than with politics.

For full enjoyment of such a game, of
course, it’s necessary to surrender to the
idea of Anglo-American actors’ portraying
Russian characters without heavy iron-
curtain accents. The one striking excep-
tion is Polish-born newcomer Joanna
Pacula, in a knockout debut as the girl in
the case. As the hero, a top investigator
with the Moscow militia, William Hurt
soon convinced me that he was, indeed,
Russian, then went on to wrap up the part
in other respects. He’s a cool, composed
actor with so much natural impact on the
screen that he can risk submerging his star
personality. There is a lot of subtlety
beneath the surface excitement throughout
Gorky Park, which never preaches but
reveals plenty about a closed Soviet society
in sly asides—the way telephones are
automatically jammed to sabotage wire-
tap devices, a chase scene set against the
background of an outdoor bandstand
where heavily mittened Muscovites stand
in the snow applauding a Western rock
concert. Lee Marvin, Brian Dennehy and
Ian Bannen are commendable as friends
or foes, all up to their eyeballs in delecta-
ble treachery. ¥¥¥¥ |

Among the usual rush of late-breaking
Oscar contenders for 1983, another formi-
dable bid is entered by last year’s best
actress, Meryl Streep, coming back strong
in Silkwood (Fox). The real Karen Gay
Silkwood was just a down-home gal, made
famous posthumously as a kind of antinu-
clear Norma Rae. A dogged union activist
vs. the powerful Kerr-McGee Corpora-
tion, she was contaminated by plutonium
but died in a car crash—accidentally or
otherwise—while preparing her case

Joanna Pacula, William Hurt in chilling, intricately crafted thriller Gorky Park.

Three good screen bets:
Gorky Park, Silkwood and
Terms of Endearment.

MacLaine, Winger, Nicholson in Endearment.

against the company. The touchier legal
questions are avoided here. Still, the movie
is topical, directed with warmth and grit
by Mike Nichols and fine as far as it
goes—though an erratic screenplay by
Nora Ephron and Alice Arlen seldom goes
quite far enough. Streep is a revelation
as the earthy Oklahoma worker with a
lesbian roommate (Cher, in top form),
though Silkwood herself has a definite yen
for men (Kurt Russell’s fine as her favor-
ite). But her finely etched portrait of
Karen as “a stand-up girl” is flawed when
an abysmally sentimental ending frames
her as a saint, complete with epitaph and
voice-over hymn. ¥¥¥

Take ош your handkerchiefs for Terms
of Endearment (Paramount) while I lay
odds that the tears you shed will clinch
Oscar nominations for Shirley MacLaine
and Debra Winger. Adapted by writer-
director James L. Brooks from a novel by
Larry (The Last Picture Show) McMur-
try, this mother-daughter soap opera de-
velops surprising depth along with wryly
ribald human comedy as an ode to love,
sex, friendship, family, infidelity and all
the other complexities of relating to one
another. Endearment gets off to a slow
start, laying the groundwork for two
decades in the life of an uptight, well-
heeled Houston widow with no visible
source of income and no particular interest
in men. Her least favorite male is the sexy,
shallow English teacher (Jeff Daniels)
who marries the daughter she dotes on
and moves her away to Iowa to become a
child breeder and Hausfrau.

To divulge the plot would tell too much
and too little about Terms of Endearment,
which is primarily a movie about people
whose frailties bind them together in ways
that all of us can recognize. MacLaine,
aging visibly in her transformation from
icy bitch to a beautifully seasoned, if

PLAYBOY

reluctant, grandma, gives everything
she's got—and turns out to be hilarious,
heartbreaking, emotionally naked. Wing-
er's easygoing earthiness is the perfect
counterpoint. She's superb, and so is Jack
Nicholson as a onetime NASA astronaut,
Shirley’s next-door neighbor, whose
“right stuff” has been reprogrammed for
a beer belly, booze and bimbos. Daniels
as Winger’s husband, John Lithgow as
her lover and Lisa Hart Carroll as a life-
long friend stand tall in a roster of memo-
rable characters. Even the child actors are
uncanny when the time comes to move
from precocity to pathos. MacLaine here-
by qualifies as queen mom of the tear-
jerkers, but she dignifies the title with
attractive new wrinkles as well as pungent
lines.
P

Two riveting performances by Albert
Finney and Tom Courtenay are the main
reasons to see The Dresser (Columbia). Pro-
ducer-director Peter Yates has done a
marvelous job of preserving for posterity
Ronald Harwood's play, a substantial hit
from London to Broadway—and an un-
abashed example of bravura theatrical
acting at its peak. Courtenay brilliantly
repeats the title role he originated as the
intense, asexual dresser for a seasoned old
ham who's on tour in the provinces in
wartime England, about to give his 227th
performance as King Lear. Finney acts up
a storm in every sense as the half-mad,
half-drunk genius raging against man,
woman, fate, Hitler and imminent death.
While his life is a shambles, there’s
redemption and a kind of moral grandeur
in his art. Such backstage drama probably
lacks mass appeal, but the verbal volleys
and the human follies of Finney, Courte-
nay and company are the cinematic go-
for-broke showbiz equivalent of the finals
at Wimbledon. ¥¥¥

Buccaneering South Seas adventure is
played largely for laughs in Nate and Hayes
(Paramount), with Michael O'Keefe and
Tommy Lee Jones in the title roles, both
trying to rescue a captive damsel (Jenny
Seagrove) whose love they seek. She’s a
kidnaped bride, bartered by leering pi-
Tates to island savages and in imminent
danger of becoming a sacrificial virgin
before her suitors show up to save her.
Sounds like fun in summary, yet this
handsome seagoing spoof never seems to
skim along at full sail. That elusive bal-
ance between high camp and cinema clas-
sic that made Raiders of the Lost Ark a
milestone isn’t easy to emulate, and nei-
ther director Ferdinand Fairfax nor his
writers have discovered the secret leading
to Steven Spielberg’s treasure. Probably
Spielberg memorized it and burned the
map. Try again, guys. You’re warm, but
still several degrees north of pay dirt. ¥¥

.
Produced and directed by Barbra
Streisand. Screenplay by Jack Rosenthal

A near thing for Jenny.

A pirate spoof, a French
pastry and an album
disguised as a movie.

Yent's Streisand, Irving, Patinkin.

and Barbra Streisand. And starring—
guess who? After her long, highly publi-
cized battle to make a movie based on a
story by Isaac Bashevis Singer, Streisand
has taken charge and come up with Yent!
(MGM/UA), a ridiculous—and no doubt
costly—little fable set in Eastern Europe
circa 1904, about a bright, innocent young
Jewish girl who disguises herself as a boy
to enter a Yeshiva because she yearns to
study the Talmud, which is forbidden for
women. Well, the locations in Czechoslo-
vakia are quite colorful, but the good news
ends right there. Barbra's masquerade as
a beardless boy barely out of his teens is a
lot to swallow and becomes absurd when
she falls in love with a fellow student
(Mandy Patinkin, a first-rate performer
despite the odds against him), then mar-
ries his true love (Amy Irving) to set off
several of the most sexually screwed-up
seriocomic scenes in screen history. You
don’t want to hear about Streisand and
Irving on their wedding night. The utter
silliness of Yentl is sadly compounded by

Streisand’s decision to make this a mu-
sical—more precisely, a brand-new hit
album with the movie tucked around it.
From first to last, it’s a vanity production,
with superstar lighting on Barbra while
she affects boyish modesty and sings—as
the inimitable big-screen belter she is—a
slew of lush romantic ballads by Michel
Legrand, words by Alan and Marilyn
Bergman. Although seemingly meant to
be taken seriously, the score has pure Bev-
erly Hills roots with an ethnic resonance
best described as Fiddler on the Patio.
And the finale—Yentl aboard a ship
bound for women’s lib and the land of
opportunity—is a forthright steal from
Don’t Rain on My Parade, a Streisand
classic. This time around, Barbra’s one-
woman band is all out of step. Vw
•

Writer-director Henry Jaglom's me-
andering Can She Bake a Cherry Pie? (World-
wide Classics) has a what-the-hell air of
improvisation about it. Two oddball peo-
ple poke around, observing the New York
scene while they get acquainted, go to bed
and talk interminably about how they feel.
Karen Black plays the woman, recently
jilted, with great dash and spontaneity, as
if she were inventing her role on the spot.
It's her zingiest part in years, and Karen
pummels it into shape as a one-woman
black comedy. Opposite her, Michael
Emil (Jaglom’s brother) is baldish, easy-
going and by any measure the least likely
leading man of the year. The movie is so
personal that some Jaglom family-album
photos are jimmied into the narrative, yet
Cherry Pie never really works except as a
showcase for two offbeat performers. vv

The influx of small French films leaps
up in quality with Entre Nous (UA Clas-
sics), by writer-director Diane Kurys,
whose two previous features about teen-
agers (Peppermint Soda and Cocktail
Molotov) add up to an engaging auto-
biography. Entre Nous is an original,
oddly poignant story about the lifelong
friendship of two women (Isabelle Hup-
pert and Miou Miou) who ultimately
desert their mates and disrupt their fami-
lies in order to be together. As Huppert’s
volatile husband (the couple is presum-
ably patterned to some extent on Kurys’
own parents), Guy Marchand does a won-
derful job of being simultaneously macho,
vulnerable and angry, playing a decent
man who is simply unable to understand
the forces that tear his world apart. Both
superb as well as sympathetic, Huppert
and Miou Miou persuasively portray peo-
ple in love without letting the audience
regard them, in any conventional sense, as
lesbians. Although Entre Nous seems
overlong and cluttered with needless detail
in its early scenes, Mlle. Kurys earns a
high score for bringing taste, intelligence
and delicacy to a most unusual domestic
drama. ¥¥¥

MOVIE SCORE CARD
capsule close-ups of current films
by bruce williamson

All the Right Moves Tom Cruise scoring
again. Wh
Basileus Quartet Chamber music and
sex appeal, charmingly blended. ¥¥¥
The Big Chill All-star cast at a re-
union of Sixties rebels. vvv
Can She Bake а Chery Pie? (Re-

viewed this month) Uh . . . it needs
something. v

Carmen Bizet's opera recycled as
dance drama. wy

The Dresser (Reviewed this month)
Finney and Courtenay are tops. ¥¥¥
Entre Nous (Reviewed this month)
Women in love, French style. vvv
Gorky Park (Reviewed this month)
Like the book, big-time suspense. ¥¥¥¥
Heart Like a Wheel Honest, exciting
bio of female hot-rod champion. ¥¥¥2
Nate and Heyes (Reviewed this
month) Pirates of yore, not quite
yare. чу
Never Cry Wolf Man meets Canis
lupus in an enthralling outdoor dra-
ma. wy
Never Say Never Again Connery's back
as Bond, but the movie sags a bit. ЖУ
Return Engagement Leary incets Lid-
dy on the lecture circuit. Eerie. ¥¥%
Richard Pryor Here and Now Off drugs,
dried ош, but still making
it as the world's funniest one-man
show. wy
The Right Stuff The magnificent
Mercury seven, spacy and socko. ¥¥¥¥
Silkwood (Reviewed this month)
Meryl makes her move for 1983. ¥¥¥
Star 80 Mariel Hemingway as
Dorothy Straten in harrowing Fosse
film. vuv
Streamers More strong stuff by
Robert Altman—on homosexual man’s
inhumanity in an Army camp. ¥¥¥
Terms of (Reviewed
this month) Soapy but superlative,
with MacLaine and Winger just

Endearment

grand. win
Testament A homemaker's view of
nuclear war. x

Under Fire Nicaragua before the
Sandinistas—hot headline drama with
Hackman, Nolte and Joanna Cas-
sidy. wy

Yentl (Reviewed this month) Bar-
bra breathes some Bel Air into Isaac
Bashevis Singer. But who needs it? ¥¥
XY Worth a look

¥ Forget it

¥¥¥¥ Don't miss
¥¥¥ Good show

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Every so often, a newcomer discovers the
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slowly charcoal mellowed to a

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Placed in the National Register of Historic Places by the United States Government.

x: COMING ATTRACTIONS >‹

By JOHN BLUMENTHAL

IDOL GOSSIP: Mel Gibson, Sissy Spacek and Scott
(The Right Stuff) Glenn have been set to
star in Universal's The River, a sort of con-
temporary Grapes of Wrath about a corn-
belt farm family’s struggle for survival
against economic obstacles and the ele-
ments. Word has it that several well-
known actors (including Harrison Ford)
wanted the Gibson role, but the Aussie
actor was chosen by director Mork Rydell
after demonstrating his ability to speak
with an American accent (not surprising,
since Gibson was born in Upstate New
York and didn't move to Australia until he
was 12). The River, which is being shot in
Tennessee, is Gibson's first American
film. . . . Speaking of Australians, down-
under director Peter has been signed to
helm Warner Bros. adaptation of Paul
Theroux’s novel The Mosquito Coast.
Scripted by Paul Schrader, the flick involves
a New England man who abandons mod-
ern American society and relocates his
family in the tropics. . . . French film mak-
er Claude Lelouch will make a sequel to the
1966 classic A Man and a Woman..Set to
start shooting in 1985, it will be titled
Twenty Years After . George Segal and
Morgan Fairchild co-star in CBS’ spoof The
Zany Adventures of Robin Hood, a send-up
of the Errol Flynn classic. Paramount
is planning a sequel to Flashdance, but
Jennifer Beals won't be starring in it.

Gibson Spocek

She has decided to continue her studies at
Yale rather than reprise the role. . . .
"Break dancing,” “rapping,” "electric
boogie” and "sci-fi street sounds" will
highlight Orion's Beat Street, a musical
scripted by The Village Voice writer Steve
Hager, who has been keeping track of the
strect-dance phenomenon since it be-
gan... . Gary Busey has been signed to play
the lead in The Bear, a biopic about the
late Paul "Bear" Bryant. Busey will portray
the University of Alabama football coach
from 18 to his death at 69,
°

SWEET SEXTEEN: National Lampoon's Joy of
Sex has nothing whatever to do with the
book of the same title, other than the fact
that one of the movie’s characters men-
tions the sex manual once or twice.
Directed by Martha (Valley Girl) Coolidge,

the Paramount film features Valley Girl
co-stars Michelle Meyrink, Cameron Dye and
Colleen Camp, Emie (Spacehunler) Hudson
and Christopher (Taxi) Loyd. Plotwise, it
goes something like this: Leslie (Meyrink)
is a high school senior who is dying to get

some firsthand education about sex but
has a problem—her father (Lloyd) is ex-
tremely overprotective and won't let boys
near her. Alan (Dye) is also a high school

senior dying to learn about sex, but he’s
too shy to get anywhere. Camp plays a
well-endowed narc who infiltrates the
school and becomes Alan's first big crush
Hudson is a former military-academy
headmaster who becomes the high school’s
principal, but hasn't quite figured out how
to handle coeds.

RUSSIAN DRESSING: Robin Williams as a Rus-
sian circus musician who defects to the
U.S. while shopping at Bloomingdale's?
"That's the basic premise of Paul Mazursky's
new comedy Moscow on the Hudson. Wil-
liams plays Vladimir Ivanoff, a saxophon-
ist with the Russian circus, who lives in a
one-bedroom apartment in Moscow with
his parents, grandfather and sister, stands
in line for toilet paper and shoes and is
threatened by the K.G.B. When the circus
visits New York, Vlad defects and is be-
friended by a Bloomingdale's security
guard (Cleavant Derricks), who takes him

Williams.

Conchito

home to Harlem. So much for the plot.
Mazursky has put together an interesting
supporting cast: Venezuelan star Merie
Conchita plays Vlad's ltalian-born girl-
friend; Alejendro Rey is his immigration
lawyer; Elya Baskin, formerly of the Mos-
cow Comedy Theatre Company, portrays
Vlad's best friend, Anatoly the clown;
Savely Kramarov, known as the Jerry Lewis

of Russia, plays a K.G.B. agent. Williams,
incidentally, grew a beard, learned to
speak Russian and took saxophone lessons
in preparation for the role.
D

WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT, BUCKY? Buckaroo Ban-
zai is one of those quirky films that defy
concise explai plays the
titular character (that’s right, Buckaroo
Banzai is a person), a modern renaissance
man who practices neurosurgery, experi-
ments in particle physics, tests jet cars and
sings with a rock band called the Hong
Kong Cavaliers. Seems our boy is the son
of a Japanese and an American scientist—
hence his many talents and peculiar name.
I'm told the film will look and sound like
nothing that has ever been on the screen
before, thanks to freaky sets, odd costum-

Borkin

ing and weird visual effects. Billed as a
"contemporary adventure-comedy with
action and surprise," Buckaroo Banzai co-
stars John gow, Ellen Barkin, Jeff
Goldblum and Christopher Lloyd.
°

YOU DIRTY RAT: Faithful readers of this col-
umn already know the casting of 20th Cen-
tury-Fox's gangster-film send-up Johnny
Dangerously, but what of the plot? It ought
to sound familiar enough to movie buffs
Johnny Kelly (Michael Keaton) is a poor but
honest newsboy who joins the Mob to pay
for pancreatic surgery for his mother (Mav-
reen Stapleton). He becomes a top crook
and puts his kid brother through law
school only to have the kid become a
crime-busting D.A. Natch, Johnny's sent
up the river but escapes to vindicate him-
self—only he's too late and gets shot in
what I'm told is one heck ofa death scene.
Along the way, of course, he meets all sorts
of oddballs, including a crazed killer
named Danny Vermin (Joe Piscopo); a cor-
rupt D.A. (Denny DeVito); the tough,
vulnerable, Harlowesque Lil (Marilu Hen-
ner); and Jocko Dundee, head of the Mob
(Peter Boyle). "We're making it like The
Public Enemy" says producer Michael Hertz-
berg. “The key to making it work as comedy
is that we're not shooting it as comedy.
Everyone plays it straight." The film also
stars Griffin Dunne, Richard Dimitri and Glynnis
O'Conner, with cameos by Dom Delvise (as
the Pope) and Dick Butkus (as a corpse).

The 6O'5 was
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By ASA BABER

FUBAK Is опе of my best buddies, but he
never gets the word. I try to help him.
Ruth, his ex-wife, tries to help him. Even
his kids try to help him. But Fubar just
doesn't understand the times. For a man of
35, he's retarded. No wonder he never gets
laid. He worries too much, and he doesn't
know how to deal with women.

* guess I just do everything wrong,"
Fubar said the other night. We were hav-
ing a few beers in a singles bar. He was
wearing an aloha shirt and puka shells
and Levi's. He looked like a baby bear.

“Туе been telling you that for years,” I
said.

“I know, I know,” he said. “But I don't
understand it. I try really hard to talk to
women. I want to be friends with them.
What do they want?"

“Ask her,” I said. I pointed to a blonde
in a suit. She had high cheekbones and
glittering eyes, the face and features of а
model.

It took him a while, but since she was
standing right next to us, Fubar finally
tapped her on the shoulder. *Uh, excuse
me, miss,” he said, “but could you tell me
what you want?" She looked right
through him, laughed once and went back
to her conversation. “See?” he said to me.
“I try to be up front and honest, I try not
to play games and to be myself, and all 1
get is rejected.”

“Fubar, you are so fucked up,” I said.
“This is 1984, man.”

“Well, I just don’t get it,” he said. “1
always screw things up with women these
days.”

“Things are tough,” I said. I took out
my gold charge card and my commodities
charts and my running shoes. “Watch,” I
said.

I caught the blonde's eye. "Didn't I see
you at that tax-shelter seminar last July?"
Т asked her. I let my suit jacket fall open so
she could see the Polo label.

“The one on real estate?” she smiled.

“Yeah,” I nodded. As I talked, I was
filling out the credit application I always
carry with me in case I meet a woman 1
like. “You ran in the marathon that morn-
ing and ate vegetarian that night. You're
looking great. Where do you work out
these days?”

“Oh, a lot of places,” she said. She was
reading my credit application carefully.
“You own a seat on the board? You don’t
just lease it?”

“No,” I said, “I own it. I’m in the soy-
bean pit. Cleared a cool million last year.
Beans were burning up. I rode them for
all they were worth.” I did the whole
Eighties gig: We talked about clothing and
business and her M.B.A. and my scam
with commodities options and our divorces

SLOGANS FOR
THE EIGHTIES

“Fubar just doesn't understand
the times. For a man of 35,
he's retarded. No wonder
he never gets laid."

and how we weren't looking for anything
too close or claustrophobic in our relation-
ships. She took my business card and I
took hers and we allowed as how we ought
to have lunch one day soon. We shook
hands and she went back to her date. He
wasn't angry. He was trying to sell the
redhead from the insurance company a
word processor for her home.

“That’s the way to do it?” Fubar asked.
“That's as cold as hell. You'll never hear
from her again."

“Of course I will,” I said, “after she
checks my credit."

“You talked to her like you'd talk to а
man."

“Of course. That’s what they want.”

"Women want to be men?"

“You got it," I said. “Look around,
Fubar. You think you're going to impress
these females with warmth and romance?
Nothing makes them more paranoid, man.
Women want to be men. They are very
busy proving they're just as tough, just as
mean, just as removed. All you have to do
is play up to it. "Dress for success, never
confess, hide all your mess, pass every
test.’ Those are the slogans for the Eight-
ies, Fubar, like it or not."

“Jeez,” he said, “just after I learned to
be loving and vulnerable.”

"Yucky," I said. "Strictly nauseating
for women these days. Wimp City. Wus-
ѕеууШе. You come on as a nice, vulnerable
guy, they'll puke on your boots, man."

“That’s why women try to push me off
the sidewalk?"

"You got it. You may have a belt in
karate and a Golden Gloves award, but
they don't care. They're out to prove
they're killers."

“You know, that reminds me,” Fubar
said. “When Ruth left, she said she
wouldn't really mind if I died. She said
she hoped somebody would put bamboo
spikes under my fingernails.”

“Yeah, that’s normal. She was proving
how tough she is.”

“I asked her, ‘Ruth, did you ever see
somebody do that? Did you ever sit
through a really mean interrogation
where the guy is screaming like a banshee
and your balls curl up at the sound and
the smell stays with you forever?” ”

“Oh, Fubar,” I said, “you blew it. You
can’t talk to women like that. You can’t
call them on it. They haven’t been through
what we've been through. They're like we
used to be. They’re macho without portfo-
lio.”

“Well, shit," Fubar said. He looked
around the bar. “They buy the gig more
than we buy it, you know that? They
don’t want to be loved, they want to be
promoted. They don’t question the system
or what it’s doing to them. They’ve bought
off on it.”

“All the way,” I said. “More than we
have, a lot of times.” Fubar was looking
very sad. That made me nervous. “Come
on,” I nudged him, “smile. Talk happy
talk. You're cramping my style, Fubar.
Don’t look sensitive, look successful.” I
took out a Krugerrand and watched it
glow.

“I want a woman I can talk to about
everything, who doesn't laugh at me when
I wake up from nightmares, who is willing
to share, to nurture, to make this world a
little warmer—”

“Fubar,” I interrupted, “that is so out
of date, I can't believe it. Get with the
times, will you?”

Just then, the blonde came back.

She was smiling. “Triple-A rating, my
attorney tells me,” she said. “Your credit
is as good as gold.” She handed me an
empty bottle.

“Same to you,” I smiled. I handed her a
bottle, too. “See you in five,” I said.

Fubar looked confused, as he so often
id. "What's that about?” he asked me.
t the urologist,” I said, “then we
negotiate. You don’t waste time before the
lab tests, Fubar. Time is money.”

I don’t know why, but Fubar stumbled
out of there like burning tumbleweed_ El

Some people just never get the word.

THE LONGER
YOU OWN IT THE
LESS OBSOLETE
IT WILL BECO

Alot of stereo equipment starts
becoming outdated as soon as you lift it

he box.
But not Pioneers SX-60 Receiver.
Its been planned for the future, not for
obsolescence.

Because its not just designed to
be а stereo receiver, but the control center
for the home entertainment system of
the future.

The SX-60 has both the perform-
ance and features necessary to interface
with the video and digital
recording hardware and
software you will cer-

out of

е.

do = do

into 8 ohms, 20-20000 Hz with no more
than 0.005% THD). Its incredible 95dB
signal-to-noise ratio can easily handle the
90dB digital range.

And when the video/audio
marriage is consummated, you'll have a
receiver that will remain compatible.

A video input in the SX-60 enables you to
listen to VCR or video disc programs
through your stereo system. And a simu-
lated stereo circuit transforms the mono
output of video (and AM) broadcasts to
create theatre-quality, stereo-like imaging.
The SX-60 features Quartz-PLL
digital synthesized tuning that locks in
stations and prevents any drift. Plus there
are 10 FM and 10 AM electronic station
pre-sets and precise digital readout.
As for ease and accuracy of opera-
l of the 5Х-605 circuits are
letely microcomputer controlled.
Finally,
Ш O a fluorescent
pictographic

tion, al
comp
CaN

=
-

tainly be buying over the next two decades. display provides visual reference to the

‘To begin with, the SX-60 has the
ability to accurately reproduce the wide
dynamic range of digital recordings be-
cause of its revolutionary Non-Switching,
low distortion amp (80 watts per channel

receivers vital operating mode.

While this display may give the
SX-60 a futuristic appearance today, you
can rest assured that 10 or 15 years from
now, it will fit right in.

() PIONEER:

Becausethe

music matters.

By CYNTHIA HEIMEL

IT was the middle of winter. I was sweaty
and hot.

“Come on, Cynthia,” yelled Rita, “get
that goddamned ball over the net for a
change. Pretend it’s an editor’s head.”

Thit the goddamned ball and seven sub-
sequent ones and then decided to collapse
in the sand and soak up some rays. The
Marina Del Rey volleyball team could get
along without me.

I lay on the beach silently for at least
five minutes, staring up at the beautiful
blue sky, listening to the gentle whispers
of the ocean. Gulls frolicked about my
head. The world was, in a word, idyllic.

Then I became aware of a minor torna-
do standing next to me. Rita was stamping
her feet, flapping her arms and making.
noises like a frustrated Doberman.

“You're kicking sand in my face, you
shrew,” I said.

"Gimme a cigarette," Rita said as she
lowered her 671”, redheaded frame next to
mine and sighed. She pointed toward the

ame.

“See that cocksucker over there?” she
asked, pointing to a grubby little fellow
falling face down into the sand. “I am
going to hire a hit man and have that little
wart rubbed out. I will not have him foul-
ing this beautiful carth. Do you know
what that little scum has done? He has
wormed his way into my affections.”

“Whatever next?" I wondered.

“I must be crazy!” Rita railed to the
gulls, which took fright and shrieked back.
“How could I ever let a Hollywood man
into my life? I’m supposed to know better!
Tm a 32-year-old knockout, not some
wimpy girl! Do you know what that lout
just said to me? ‘I gotta work on my
screenplay tonight” The utter gall of that
little twit.”

“Sounds like the little twit’s very indus-
trious,” I mentioned calmly.

“The little twit’s not even a goddamned
writer!” she yelled. *He's a goddamned
boom operator!”

“But he’s writing a screenplay?” I was
new to all this. I’m just a New York girl
who happened to be out in Hollywood for
a week because some ex-student-activist
head of a studio wanted me to write a
screenplay. They had given me a car for a
week, a rented hotel room, the works. Plus
I got to see all my L.A. buddies on their
home turf. Life was fine.

I even liked the ex-hippie studio head.
He was disarmingly honest. He knew I
was a feminist, yet he sat there in his mon-
ster office, twiddling his thumbs, and told
me that he didn't like women directors.
“They never get their teeth into any-
thing,” he said. “They always pussyfoot
around the outside of issues. They don’t
know how 10 take risks. But we'll try to

L.A. BLUES

“Compared with the L.A. variety,
all other men are Mother Teresa."
“And they're all writing screenplays.”

find you a good one for your movie.”

Rita was still babbling. “Honey, you
don’t know L.A. men. They come on as
vulnerable as kittens, but they'll cut your
heart out with a rusty knife. All they care
about is business. There is no such thing
as a social life to an L.A. man. Even at
some dingy bar at three AM , he just wants
to know who you are, whether your dad-
dy’s the head of a studio and what you can
do for him. They never let up.”

“And you know why?” said Ginny,
who had just sat down. “Because they're
all transplanted New Yorkers, and they
all left their parents behind in Brooklyn.
"They've come out here figuring they can
get away with anything.”

“You know how everybody in New
York is worried about selling out?” asked
Rita. “How people sit in that Russian Tea
restaurant for hours, moaning about how
they have to keep their integrity?”

“Sure,” I said, “because they're all
guilty as hell with the suspicion that
they've sold out years ago."

“But at least they still talk about it,”
said Ginny, adjusting her bikini. “Out
here, the concept of selling out doesn’t
even exist. One sells out as a matter of
routine. One is expected to sell out. One is
obligated to sell out.”

“And they don’t even know how to
flirt,” complained Rita. “They try to
throw some cocaine up your nose and then
expect you to open your legs. It’s pitiful.

When the cocaine ploy doesn’t work, they
get all wistful and goopy and say to you, ‘I
just want to be held.’ 7 just want to be
held. What kind of bullshit is that? Hold
this, motherfucker.”

“You know how suddenly everybody’s
discovering how all men are narcissists
and don’t care about anybody but them-
selves and don’t want to grow up and take
responsibilities?” asked Ginny. “Well,
compared with the L.A. variety, all other
men are Mother Teresa.”

“And they’re all writing screenplays,”
said Rita. It was her leitmotiv.

“What about L.A. women?” I won-
dered.

“Well,” said Ginny, “none of us wear
enough clothes, and some of us can be
cold, hard and plastic, but not a one of us
would have the nerve to be that self-
absorbed. Let’s face it; all women have an
essential humanity.”

I went out on a semidate that night.
Some guy who worked in the story depart-
ment of a studio asked me to some sort of
women-in-film symposium. We took my
car. The first person I saw when I entered
the room was my ex-hippie studio head.
He was onstage, twiddling his thumbs.
"Then he spoke.

*Nobody's been paying enough atten-
tion to women film directors," he said,
“but J think that women film directors are
this town's least exploited commodity. I
deplore this sort of sexism.”

“His last picture grossed $80,000,000,”
whispered my date. “Let’s go out and
smoke a joint.”

We sat in my car and my date told me
all about himself. He had arrived from
New York two years ago. He liked the
weather in California; he loved his new
car but found the people too superficial.

“It’s true,” I said, “all they seem to сагс
about is work.”

“Exactly!” he said. “That’s what my
screenplay is about.”

“Your screenplay?” I asked, starting
my car.

“Td like you to read it," he said wistful-
ly. “Pd be interested in your input.”

“Your brake is on,” said my car.

“My God!” I said. “My car is speak-
ing!”

“It's about these guys who work in a
factory,” my date continued, “and they
have tremendous pressures on them to be
strong and macho, but really, all they
want is to be held.”

“Fasten your seat belts, please,” said my
car.

“Listen,” I said, "this is terribly impor-
tant. My car seems to be chatting. I don’t
understand.”

“Гт having a little trouble with the
ending,” said my date.

“Get out of town before it’s too
late,” said my car. It was a new model.

THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR

Women are always complaining that
intercourse does not give the clitoris
enough stimulation. They insist that men
use their fingers to masturbate it. Why
hasn't anyone suggested the obvious—that
instead of inserting the penis, the man use
it to stimulate the clitoris directly, holding
it in his hand? What do you think?—
R. F., Cambridge, Massachusetts.

It has possibilities. Edgar Gregersen,
the author of “Sexual Practices,” describes
a similar activity in two Oceanic tribes:
“The Trukese . . . call their coital tech-
nique wechewechen chuuk, ‘Trukese
striking.’ The man sits on the ground with
his legs wide-open and stretched out in
front of him. The woman faces him, kneel-
ing. The man places the head of his penis
Just inside the opening of her vagina. He
does not really insert it but moves his penis
up and down with his hand in order to
stimulate her clitoris. As the couple ap-
proach climax, the man draws the woman
toward him and finally completes the
insertion of his penis. Before climax, as the
partners become more and more excited,
the woman may poke a finger into the
man’s ear.

“A Yapese variant called gichigich is
not used by a man with his wife, because
she would insist on it all the time and this
would wear him out, making it impossible
Jor him to work like other men. Nor could
the woman work as she should. Conse-
quenily, as soon as a couple marry—even
though they may have practiced gichigich
before as lovers—the man substitutes the
standard marital form: none other than the
missionary position.

“The description of . . . gichigich is one
of the most graphic : The man just
barely inserts his penis between the wom-
an's outer sexual lips as she sits on his lap.
The head of the penis is moved up, down
and sideways for a period of time, which
can be quite long. The rate of this move-
ment varies and can become . . . intricately
contrapuntal. All this is said to make the
woman frenzied, weak and helpless. .

“Coincidence, I think, accounts for the
fact that the Yapese, with this rather stren-
uous, frenetic sexual technique, have one of
the lowest rates of frequency for intercourse
found in the world.”

I recently acquired a video-cassette re-
corder. Quite naturally, I purchased a few
erotic movies. The results were far from
what 1 had anticipated. Most of the mov-
ies were junk. Is there any way I can im-
prove the odds?— J. R., Chicago, Illinois.

Theodore Sturgeon once said that 90
percent of everything is crud. Why should
erotic movies be any different from the rest
of life? According to one source, there have
been more than 8000 adult films made

over the years, and approximately 2000
are available on video cassettes. One of the
most comprehensive guides to those erotic
masterpieces is “Adult Movies,” a paper-
back guide to the top 200 adult movies.
(It’s available for 83.95 from Pocket
Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New
York, New York 10020.) That should nar-
row the field somewhat. But, as we say
around the Playboy Video Lounge, half the
fun is in not knowing what to expect. You
have to keep your sense of humor about
these things. As long as you aren’t looking
Jor the perfect video fantasy, every film has
its moments.

M am a 25-year-old woman who is, unfor-
tunately, not sexually active at present. I
was involved with a young man for a few
years and had quite a satisfying sex life.
"That relationship has ended, and now the
most physical activity I get is a vigorous
weight-lifting and aerobic workout. My
question is this: Is it usual to have, or:to
come extremely close to, an orgasm during
exercise? I was a dance student for many
years and can remember once or twice
nearing climax in class. Lately, I have
been taking ап aerobic-dance class, with
virtually nonstop action for an hour, and
find that nine times out of ten, I come very
close to orgasm. I get quite flushed and my
whole body pulsates. The only things that
prevent actual climax are my conscious-
ness of it and the lack of privacy needed to
complete the picture. Needless to say, it’s
quite frustrating. I was wondering wheth-
er or not my abstinence from sex has
increased my ability to climax in non-sex-
ual activity. Is this normal? I can't believe
a little exercise can bring so much pleas-

ure.—Miss L. B., New York, New York.

We have come extremely close to or-
gasm simply watching women lift weights.
We're glad to find it's nice for you, too. Sex
is exercise, and for many people, exercise
is like sex. Your abstinence, as you point
out, could be adding to the sexual tension,
but since you experience those sensations
in your dance class, it would appear that
your body simply tends to link strenuous
exercise with sexual excitement. As long as
you're able to control yourself and avoid
embarrassment, we think you should enjoy
the pleasurable sensations.

BBecause of the recent crackdown on
marijuana smoking aboard Navy ships, a
lot of us haye been worried about the accu-
racy of tests used to determine whether or
not someone has smoked a joint. I don’t
smoke myself, but Im often around when
others are doing it. Am I likely to pick up
enough out of the air to show up on a
urine test? How long do you have to wait.
before all the T.H.C. is out of your
body?—M. P., Long Bcach, California.

There are so many variables involved in
the urine-testing procedure that we can
give only the broadest guidelines. For
instance, urine volume and, therefore,
Т.Н.С. concentration, is variable, depend-
ing on diet, exercise, age and individual
metabolism. While the tests are said to be
at least 95 percent accurate, even a posi-
tive one is not confirmation of performance
impairment; it is only an indication of
some prior use of the drug. You should
know that 80 percent to 90 percent of the
active ingredients in pot, primarily delta-
9-T.H.C., are excreted within five days,
about 20 percent in urine and 65 percent
in feces. Prior use can be detected for up to
two weeks in the casual user and possibly
longer in the chronic user, due to accumu-
lation of T.H.C. in body fat deposits. The
bottom line is, if you’re just around people
who smoke, you needn’t worry. Passive
inhalation is not likely to produce a posi-
live test result. But if you do take a toke, it
can be detected for up to two weeks.
Whether or not that will get you in trouble
is, naturally, up to the powers that be.

A: the age of 34, I didn't think I could
be surprised; but recently, a lover in-
formed me that I am a sexual aberration. 1
don’t mind—in fact, I revel in it, if it’s
true. My nipples don’t always get hard at
the same time, and he said that that was
very unusual. Is it? No one has ever men-
tioned this to me before.—Miss T. M.,
Anderson, Indiana.

We don’t think that this constitutes a
remarkable phenomenon or an abnormali-
ty. Haven't you ever heard of the movie
“One Sings, the Other Doesn’t? It’s

PLAYBOY

possible that one of your nipples is some-
what more sensitive than the other or that
your partner is paying more attention to
one than to the other. If that is the case,
shame on him. Next time he brings it up,
ask him how he becomes erect—from the
top to the bottom, or the bottom to the top,
or from both ends to the middle, or. . . . Get
the point? Too much spectating can kill a

good thing.

AA fter reading the letter from L.W. of
Detroit, Michigan, in the June issue and
your answer, I feel I must comment. I am
not a sex therapist or counselor but simply
a normal, 29-year-old single man with a
very active (though not as active as I'd
like, of course) sex life. I am also one who
had to answer positively to The Playboy
Readers’ Sex Survey question regarding
faking an orgasm. I've been doing so on a
fairly regular basis all my sexual life.
What's more, I find that it's very easy to
get away with it. It all started when I was
16 years old and had the wonderful pleas-
ure of learning about sex from a girl who
seemed to live for nothing but orgasms—
her own. 1 suffered from premature ejacu-
lation until she taught me some things to
help me last longer. The problem was, she
couldn't wait to have sex again. I couldn't
last very long if I tried to come every time
she did in a night spent with her. Even at
the age of 16, I learned instead to fake it,
which seemed to get her off even more.
Eventually, I learned to fake approxi-
mately two out of three times. She couldn't
tell, because we were so wet. Instead, she
came to believe that I had become as insa-
tiable as she.

Although I've never met anyone whose
appetite for sex could match hers, I still
fake orgasms. The primary reason is that 1
can usually make love for an indefinite
period of time, and we reach a point at
which the woman is exhausted, dry, going
through the motions or just wondering
when it's going to end. At that point, 1
may simply increase my speed, breathe
faster, say, “I’m coming" with as much
passion as I can muster and start rapidly
flexing my penis. The only complaints
Гуе received have been that chafing pre-
vents another session until a day or two
later. No partner has ever so much as
hinted that she thought I'd faked it. The
point is this: I do not fake orgasms because
of so-called erectile dysfunction. I do not
feel guilty about the deception, either, for
obvious reasons. The only time my part-
ner would ever know that I hadn’t ejacu-
lated was if she performed fellatio. That’s
one time I can't get away with faking it. 1
feel that it's perfectly natural to fake it
under certain circumstances. It prevents
my partner from feeling as if she doesn’t
turn me on enough and makes it much
easier for me to get another erection as
soon as she’s ready. Lastly, it’s a hell of a

lot better than premature ejaculation
(which is something else that’s impossible
to fake). —R. W., Charleston, South Car-
olina.

Thank you.

Tiree or four times a year, 1 go some-
place where I have to wear a tuxedo, Each
time, I rent one; and each time, I promise
myself that ГЇЇ buy one and save money.
But it seems to me that tuxes are going
through the same changes as suits these
days, and I don’t want to get stuck with
something I wear infrequently that will be
out of style in a year. What are the guide-
lines on when to rent and when to buy?—
O. L., Los Angeles, California.

If you're renting a tux three times a
year, you're paying what one would cost.
We think your fears of obsolescence are
unfounded. A good-quality, conservatively
cut tuxedo can last you for as long as you
care to wear it. Conservative means avoid-
ing colors and fabrics that can date the
suit. We suggest basic black with a mini-
mum of ornamentation. You'll find that
you can change the outfit considerably by
adding accessories. Try wearing a cum-
merbund one time and a vest the next.
Shirt colors and collar styles can also be
changed, making the outfit more casual if
you wish. Of course, the major advantage
of owning a tux is that you can have it cut
for you, avoiding size hassles at the rental
shops. The basic tux hasn’t changed in
decades, and prices are generally below
those of business suits. We say go for it.

V am a 26-year-old female dating a 25-
year-old male. Believe it or not, he is a
virgin. I, on the other hand, while not pro-
miscuous, have some degree of sexual
experience. His awareness of my past
experience tends to intimidate him, and
his lack of experience is very frustrating to
me. How can I go about relieving some of
the pressure he feels? 1 can honestly say I
have not pushed him; we have not been to
bed yet, and even a cheap feel is hard to
come by. I am restraining my normal sex-
ual aggressiveness, as I do not want to
frighten him off. How do you deal with a
virgin? What technique can I use to relax
him or relieve some of the tension he feels?
Any insight would be greatly appre-
ciated.—Miss А. M. E., Paramus, New
Jersey.

You'll have to take some of the initiative,
even at the risk of scaring off your boy-
friend. Besides, if sexual contact scares him
off, you're only due for more frustration in
this relationship. We don't think you have
to restrain yourself; in fact, you should
gently guide him to situations you find
desirable and teach him the basics—what
pleases you and how you can please him.
You have found the last male in America
who doesn’t know that women are sexual
creatures. Show him the culture. Take him
10 any Debra Winger movie. Give him
good books about women in lust—from
“Lady Chatterley’s Lover" to “Ada.”

You'll simply have to be the patient and
guiding tutor. After a few “lessons,” he
should warm up considerably—and the
give and take should eventually even out.
If not, get out.

Hama 19-year-old male with a problem. I
have been having sex since I was 14 and
have had this problem just as long: I
always reach orgasm before my partner,
which leaves her less than satisfied. I have
just ordered something called a desensi-
tizer, which numbs the skin on the corona.
Ts that the best way to treat my problem?
If not, what is? I would really appreciate
any help you could provide —J. K., New
York, New York.

Desensitizers are not the answer. For
one thing, they desensitize the woman
also. The best solution is one we've recom-
mended before: Find a copy of "Sexual
Solutions," by Michael Castleman. There
is an entire chapter devoted to techniques
for curing involuntary ejaculation. Castle-
man writes, “There are two keys to lasting
longer: Reduce tensions and become more
comfortable with your body's sensual re-
sponsiveness. A body under stress for any
reason looks for ways to relieve the pres-
sure. Jf a man bottles up his emotions and.
denies himself other means of stress reduc-
tion, his body may decide that the only way
out is to release the stress through ejacula-
tion. Learning to last longer involves
transferring stress reduction away from the
penis to other parts of the body. In other
words, expand sexuality to include sensu-
ality.” Among the techniques described are
deep breathing (people under stress hold
their breath) , vocalizing to release tension
(forget about being the strong, silent type)
and various muscle-relaxation techniques
(some men find that they can exert more
control if they keep their buttock, anal and
stomach muscles relaxed through love-
play). Castleman provides exercises that
you can practice during masturbation or
intercourse. You can order “Sexual Solu-
tions” from Self-Care Associates, 55 Sutter
Street, Suite 645, San Francisco, Califor-
nia 94104, for 89.95.

All reasonable questions—from fashion,
food and drink, stereo and sports cars to dat-
ing problems, taste and etiquette—will be
personally answered if the writer includes a
stamped, self-addressed envelope. Send all
letters іо The Playboy Advisor, Playboy
Building, 919 N. Michigan Avenue, Chica-
go, Illinois 60611. The most provocative,
pertinent queries will be presented on these
pages each month.

You сап hear a prerecordedmessage from
The Playboy Advisor by dialing 312-976-
4343, It’s not dial-a-prayer, but it’s close.

To find out which station in your town
airs “The Playboy Advisor” radio program,
call Westwood One at 213-204-5000.

DEAR PLAYMATES

AAS we read our Dear Playmates mail, we
find that certain subjects come up on a
regular basis. One of them is men and
housework. So we asked the Playmates to
give us their views.

The question for the month:

Could you go to work and have the
man in your life run the house?

М. 1 don't think 1 could do that. My
ideal relationship would be to have both of
us working and
traveling and
then going
home together.
І wouldn't feel
right if he were
home all day
playing the
father and
husband. 1
wouldn't like to
be home all
day, either.
There is no way
I could be a housewife and stay home. IF I
weren't working, I'd want to be playing or
exercising or lunching with friends. I like
to go out.

MARLENE JANSSEN
NOVEMBER 1982

I would absolutely go out of my
mind. I think a man’s place is out of the
home. It’s nice
to have his help
at home but not
to run my
houschold. Pd
go nuts. How
would I find
anything?
When I'm
ready, I want to
be the wile, I
want to partici-
pate in my
home life. And
while no one wants to do the laundry, it is
part of the deal. If I turn out to have the
minority opinion on this question, so be it.

Vb, y74172 3-132"
LORRAINE MICHAELS.
APRIL 1981

Derinitely. Because I've been in the en-
tertainment business, my environment
consists mostly of athletes, models, actors
and musicians. Men in those professions
travel a lot and
have t0 take
care of them-
clas Aad
thosc are thc
men Гуе been
Guys. Tine
don’t seem to
mind cooking
or cleaning. My
work takes me
of the
I like cx-
g role:
a lot of energy and I need to bum it
off, and the thought of having a houschus-
band or a houseboylriend to come home to.
is very appealing: For three years, I. paid
rent оп ап apartment that Ї was hardly
ever in, and the thing I missed most was
having someone to come home fo when my
work was done.

As 5-6

AZIZI JOHARI
JUNE 1975

Wes, 1 could, To fact, Eve thought about
this subject a lot. Right now, I'm pursuing
my career so heavily that it has been dil
ficult to find a
man willing to
MP атр EON
А man who is
also busy at
a job doesn't
have any more
time than I do
to pursue а
relationship.
We're both
doing our own
things. Now, if
he were will-
ing—['m not willing—to give up his
carcer and stay home, I feel perfectly con-
баси that I could bring in enough money
someday to support two people. When I
choose a mate, 1 won't be looking for a
provider. I can concentrate on other
qualities.

SUSIE SCOTT
MAY 1983

MI, boyfriend helps out when I'm out of
town. He never had to do it before, but
now that I'm on the road more, he's doing
the

it, We have a lot of pets, and
house needs to

be vacuumed W
cvery day. He's
been good
about cleaning,
and I think it
helped him
tealize how
messy he was.
The first time I
went out on a
promotion and
came home to а

person can do only so much when he or
she has to be on the road. The truth i:
one wants to live chaos and
worth fighting about, cither.

pias ох)

MARIANNE GRAVATTE
“TOBER 1982

V think most people do what they have to
do. If you're in a relationship with some-
onc uncmploycd or self-employed and you
have an out-of-the-house job, thats
just the way it
goes. | might
get bothered
if a man who
had no desire
10 work out-
side the home—
a man who
wanted me to
go to work for
35 years while
he stayed home
and raised the
children —want-
ed to marry me. I'm relatively traditional
about family life. I think the mother
should raise the children. Not that
mothers shouldn't work, but they should
take more responsibility than the fathers
for the children.

CATHY LARMOUTH
JUNE 1981

Send your questions to Dear Playmates,
Playboy Building, 919 North Michigan
Avenue, Chicago, Hlinois 60611. We won't be
able to answer every question, but we'll try.

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health.

You never had it this fresh!

BRIGHT

The taste that
outshines menthol-
and leaves you witha
clean, fresh taste.

Mo
BACARDI

Ser А

Gold Re.

mellow tasting yet

| Bacardi smooth and light-bodied.
B light um And because it tastes
' has a smooth, 'eat unmixed,
light, delicate taste. Sip It tastes great with colas
it with soda, water or and other mixers too. exceptionally rich tasting. It's made
over ice and you'll know frorn full-bodied rums wl
why Bacardi light are held in reserve, then mellowed
also makes luscious daiquiris, and blended. Savor its luxurious
coladas and juice drinks. taste over ice or in a snifter.

Soda,rocks or neat,
Bacardi makes it just right.

BACARDI, rum.Tastes great mixed because it tastes great unmixed. Made in Puerto Rico.

THE PLAYBOY FORUM

a continuing dialog on contemporary issues between playboy and its readers

SEX, DRUGS AND ROCK ‘N’ ROLL

Here's a drug-paraphernalia case that
may amuse your readers:

Louisiana accused my client, Ware-
house Records and Tapes, Inc., probably
the largest record store in the state, of sell-
ing pipes, papers, etc., that could, we sup-
pose, be used in connection with certain
infamous controlled substances. We con-
ceded that possibility and left the state to
prove “illegal intent.” That would be a
little like labeling Рілувоү an item of
“paraphernalia” if you intended readers
to snort cocaine off its pages. (You don’t,
do you?) In the absence of evidence, the
prosecution came up with this argument:

‘The State, at the hearing in this
matter, brought forth testimony that
the plaintiff is familiar with and sells
records by such folks as Janis Joplin
and Jimi Hendrix. These were very
popular musicians who died as a
result of drug overdoses. Many ex-
amples can be cited to show the . . -
link between the so-called “drug cul-
ture” and most popular music.

We always knew about sex, drugs and
rock ’n’ roll, but before my client was
forced to remove the Frank Sinatra al-
bums and most of his other stock, the court
ruled that the state failed to prove this
“strong link” by means of the Joplin and
Hendrix examples.

If that argument comes up in another
case, ТЇЇ be ready with my devastating
Mama Cass defense. You'll recall that she
O.D.d, tragically enough, on а ham sand-
wich, at least according to legend.

William E. Rittenberg
Attorney at Law
New Orleans, Louisiana

ADVANCED PRICK TEASING

It cannot have escaped your notice that
women, for all their lip service to the con-
cept of honest relationships, still widely
engage in the time-honored practice of
prick teasing. The style is a little different;
it's no longer the old lead-'em-on-and-
slap-their-face system, where the game is
simply "What kind of girl do you think T
am?" Instead, it's the woman's conscious-
ly promoting a casual or close-friend rela-
tionship to the point where the man starts
wondering if such good friends ought not
to enjoy some sex together.

Surprise! Comes suddenly the startled
look reserved for such occasions of exces-
sive male presumption and some classic
feminist explanation that she wouldn’t
have allowed such an intimate relation-

ship to develop if she'd known he was only
going to try to get into her pants. That
seems to be part of the feminist doctrine
that celibacy is an integral part of true
male-female friendship. Whatever the ra-
ionale, it’s a convenient means of estab-
lishing to a woman's satisfaction that she

"Its the feminist
version of notches

on the pistol grip.”

is sexually desirable without her having to
reciprocate. It’s the feminist version of
notches on the pistol grip. “Gotcha, you
horny bastard!” says she and then proba-
bly masturbates herself to sleep fantasiz-
ing about some oil-field roughneck.
(Name withheld by request)
Baltimore, Maryland
Well, sir, the “Playboy Forum”
wouldn't know anything about prick-teas-
ing, feminist-Dype women, but the Playboy
Advisor would, and he returned your letter
with the scribbled note “Tell him to play
queer, They can’t stand it.”

FLEECING THE GRINGOS

Perhaps you might like to warn your
readers of a new wrinkle in the Mexican
tourist racket. I encountered this one in
Torreon last March, The policeman
picked us out of a line of cars, curbed us,

demanded and got $20 from each of us in
return for our not being taken to jail. He
would not consider the peso equivalent of
$20 but insisted on $20 U.S. Fortunately,
we were able to come up with an Ameri-
can $20 for each one in the car, but he
seemed very suspicious of one bill that was
practically new. That was understand-
able; one cannot fully appreciate the
term filthy lucre until one sees Mexican
paper money.

So the gringo entering Mexico would be
well advised to keep a supply of not-too-
new $20 bills in reserve for such emergen-
cies. I saw one Mexican jail from the
outside looking in, and it wasn't the Ritz.
"Twenty dollars not to bc insidc looking
out was a bargain. But that was my third
and last venture south of the border.

Chauncey L. Greene
Minneapolis, Minnesota

A few years ago, we were inundated
with Mexican rip-off reports. We didn’t
know if the situation was improving or
people were just getting used to it.

REMEMBER ‘NAM

The fighting in El Salvador resembles
the early days of the Vietnam war more
and more. Whether or not this war es-
calates and American troops become
involved will depend on “military intelli-
gence”—the same "military intelligence”
that got us so helplessly mired in South-
east Asia.

After the debacle of the 1968 Tet offen-
sive, the American generals decided it was
time to make a decisive move toward
ending the war. Their plan, Operation
Pegasus, was simple: The Third Marine
Division would be inserted by helicopter
into the demilitarized zone between North
and South Vietnam and would then sweep
the zone clear of the North Vietnamese
army. Fire bases would be set up and
patrols would stop infiltration from the
north, leaving only pacification of the Viet
Cong in the south.

Intelligence reports indicated that
N.V.A. movement in the DMZ was mini-
mal during the rainy season, so the plan
called for an invasion then, when it would
face minimal opposition. As a member of
the Second Battalion’s Echo Company,
the advance unit whose job it was to clear
landing zones, I can tell you about the
monsoon season firsthand.

The day after we landed, some five
s inside the DMZ, the clouds were so
thick that the helicopters couldn’t fly. We
were stuck on a mountaintop without
resupply. After 2 week of constant rain

PLAYBOY

and sleeping in the mud, everyone had
jungle rot, immersion foot and dysentery.
We encountered the N.V.A. forces that
weren't supposed to be there, and we had
dead and wounded who could not be evac-
uated. The third week, we ran out of food.
‘The brass aborted the mission. Finally, on
the 33rd day, the clouds broke enough for
the helicopters and we were evacuated—
emaciated, disgusted and demoralized.

Operation Pegasus was a microcosm of
the entire Vietnam war—generals making
command decisions without going to the
field to evaluate the truth of intelligence
data or the effects their decisions would
have on troops in the field.

El Salvador is essentially the same. The
Salvadoran people are fighting a guerrilla
war to overthrow a corrupt, despotic gov-
ernment. The U.S. Government supports
that corrupt regime to preserve the status
quo, fearful that a change would not be
beneficial to American policy. Reagan's
warnings of world-wide Communist take-
overs are hollow. We can't afford to make
the same Vietnam mistakes in El Salvador
or anywhere else in the world.

Andy Jay McClure
Blairsville, Georgia

FALSE ALARM
An item in the October Forum News-
‘front mentions a 34-year-old woman from
Virginia who supposedly was raped three
times on the steps of the Supreme Court
building in New Orleans. It later turned
out that she had made the story up. Police
arrested her for filing a false crime report
but later released her to return home. I
thought this should be cleared up for the
sake of that much-maligned city.
"Tony Noto
Metairie, Louisiana

GLORY BOUND

I have mixed feelings about the death
penalty—strong gut feelings for it and
rational beliefs against it, thanks partly to
PLAYBOY's well-reasoned editorials on the
subject. Yourargu- С
mentshavecareful-
ly avoided the
bleeding-heart hu-
manitarianism of
knee-jerk liberals
in favor of prag-
matic considera-
tions. I’ve forgotten
how you put it,
but one point you
made was that the screwed-up and violent
lifestyle of many criminals is part of a
self-destructive pattern into which capital
punishment fits quite nicely. It’s one last
desperate way to terminate one’s misera-
ble existence in a blaze of glory, being
ceremonially put to death by the state. An
Austin attorney, Hugh Lowe, was quoted
in The Texas Observer as calling capital
punishment “a short cut to immortality,”
and nothing better illustrates that than
Newsweek's devoting its cover to the near

‘execution of murderer James Autry, com-
plete with his picture. In the Newsweek
story, Autry, a case study in derangement,
objected to the lethal-injection method be-
cause it wasn’t “manly.” His death-row
hero was Utah murderer Gary Gilmore,
who was the first to drop his appeals and
go down in history for his stoic Let's do
it.”

In wrestling with the death-penalty
question, I’ve pretty much decided that
state executions are counterproductive to
society and perversely rewarding to the
criminal but that there’s something to be
said for plain old-fashioned killing.

James Jones
San Marcos, Texas

As it happens, one of our editors wrote
that piece in The Texas Observer and has
asked attorney Lowe, who practices in
Austin and lectures at the University of
Texas there, to favor “The Playboy Fo-

rum” with some of his writing.

UP SERVICE

I oppose prayer in public schools on
principle; though as a practical matter, I
don’t think it does much harm to impres-
sionable young psyches or much real dam-
age to the church-state relationship. I
think what most of us really object to are
the kinds of people who think that having
prayer in classrooms is necessary, 1 simply
don't want that mentality teaching my
children or running my Government.

This was no big problem in the past.
Teachers didn’t think about it much one
way or the other. Prayers were simply a
nice cultural ritual, like saying grace
before meals, and were said with all the
fervor and sincerity of the handshake
before a boxing match. The kid who was
Jewish or the child of principled intellec-
tuals received some useful clues to the
character of his community and the lip
service it paid to some foggy concept of a
deity. By tipping his hat to the native
god—and that was all anyone really ex-
pected—he avoided a bit of grief.

I saw this in action with my own son in
Texas years ago, when he was about five
and was being bombarded in kindergarten
with Easter stories, Christmas stories,
perfunctory prayers, the works. I had been
careful not to indoctrinate him with my
own nontheism (I’m not even an atheist)
but was mildly concerned when one of his
regular Saturday-morning TV kiddie
shows concluded with a nice, bland little
prayer that seemed to get him excited. I
asked him one time just what that prayer
meant, and he said, “It means that Yogi
Bear is coming on next!”

Made his daddy proud.

Jim Garcia
San Antonio, Texas

IMPROVING THE BREED

The pernicious influence not of religion
as such but of much religious doctrine was
never better illustrated than in the case of
the little girl in Tennessee dying of cancer

because her parents, having converted to
some bizarre brand of fundamentalism,
insisted that she not receive medical treat-
ment except from God. Too bad her
grandparents had not subscribed to such a
belief. Any number of treatable childhood
afflictions might have carried away her
fool parents before they reproduced, there-
by improving the gene pool.

D. K. Fuller

Memphis, Tennessee

HARD TO PLEASE

I grew up next to Asilomar State Park,
which houses a multimillion-dollar non-
profit convention center. That concession
dominates 70 percent of the public proper-
ty with its buildings and asphalt, and the
owners plan to build more. They found an
official environmentalist and sand-dune
ecologist who specializes in landscaping
bare sand dunes. This guy associates the
evil of erosion with the big feet of humans,
and the corporation uses that logic to justi-
fy the construction of boardwalks all over
the pristine sand dunes near my home. It
calls this “dune restoration.” It is negating
the original reason for environmentalism,
which was to allow Americans the oppor-
tunity to walk on the earth in its natural
condition.

I have a friend who also has an interest
in preserving his right to walk freely
through the sand dunes without any barri-
ers. Once in a while, he gets laid out there.
I think that I also have a right to go into
those dunes any time I want to. On occa-
sion, I pronate or supinate myself upon
the bare sand to allow the warm sun to
caress my epidermis.

I have a petition to remove the first
boardwalk and to rezone the dunes for
open space. Any of your Bunnies can sign
my petition any time.

Michael Bogatirev
Pacific Grove, California

WASTE MANAGEMENT
The Environmental Protection Agency
might consider this system as an induce-
ment to improved waste management: Re-
quire the executives of industrial firms to
drink a jigger or two of their factories?
effluents once a day—on the rocks, if they
like. Also, a little of the smoke from the
factories’ stacks might be tapped into the
air-conditioning systems.
Would there be any legal problems in
drafting such a law?
Andy Williams
New York, New York
You just find a Congressman to intro-
duce such a bill. We've got lots of good

ideas.

‘SUSPICIOUS PLATE

One night, while on police-desk duty, I
was reading one of the older issues of
PLAYBOY that appear every so often and
found something of interest in the May
1982 Playboy Forum. Yt was a letter about
a personalized Massachusetts license plate

FORUM NEWSFRONT

what's happening in the sexual and social arenas

TEST ME

LOS ANGELES—Sex with surveillance
subjects may be a necessary duty of
undercover cops, both to conceal their
identity and to protect their lives, Los
Angeles police chief Daryl Gates has
declared. Explaining that drug dealers,
terrorists and radicals often are sleazy

characters who live freewheeling life-
styles, he said that if he prohibited such
sex in the line of duty, “there is no
reason why every undercover officer
would not be tested in that fashion.” He
added, “If I were an undercover officer,
I would rather have sex than lose my
life.” The A.C.L.U. is threatening to
seek a court injunction.

UFO SUIT FAILS TO FLY

WASHINGTON, D.C.—A Federal judge
has dismissed an Alexandria, Virginia,
man’s lawsuit demanding that the Air
Force turn over the occupants of crash-
landed UFOs who allegedly have been
kidnaped by the Government as part of
а “cosmic Watergate conspiracy.” After
the plaintiff, the 45-year-old leader of a
Washington group called Citizens
Against UFO Secrecy, stated his case,
an assistant U.S. Attorney moved for
dismissal on a variety of points—
including the argument that the court
had no jurisdiction over beings from
outer space who could not be located.

‘CARVED PUMPKINS

MiAMI—Customs inspectors at the
Miami International Airport became
suspicious of а 3000-kilo pumpkin
shipment arriving by plane from Ja-
maica, especially in the absence of any
Halloween market. An examination
disclosed that some 400 of the pump-
kins had been hollowed out and each
contained a pound of marijuana.

NICE TRY

READING, PENNSYLVANIA—A jury did
not buy the story of a 37-year-old for-
mer city constable who said that the
marijuana he was growing in a city
warehouse was a mutant strain of hemp
used only in the making of а secrel-
formula salve he had developed for the
treatment of hemorrhoids. He said the
hemp-plant extract, mixed with two
types of fungus and other ingredients,
was originally conceived as a treatment
Jor poison oak, poison ivy and poison
sumac; and when а scoffing friend told
him he should “shove it,” he found it
worked on hemorrhoids, too. The jury
deliberated one and a half hours, found
him guilty, and he could receive up to
16 years. While awaiting the verdict,
he said to reporters, “Well, I'll be the
only prisoner up at Berks County with-
out hemorrhoids, anyway.”

REVERSE JUSTICE

BENSON, MINNESOTA—A warning shot
that halted а thief by ricocheting into
his foot now has cost the theft victim
$75,000 in civil damages. “I don’t
think it was too unjust for what they
done to me,” said the plaintiff, who
received probation on a guilty plea for
burglary of a car in 1977. "For the
#150 or so worth of merchandise, it
wasn't worth ruining a guy’s foot for.”
The crime victim’s mother disagreed:
“He gets rewarded for committing a
crime and we get punished for ртоієсі-
ing our property." The defendant's
attorney noted that two years after the
shooting, the plaintiff was able to walk
a mile in connection with a car theft, for
which he has since been convicted.

WALKING TALL

TEL AVIV— An Israeli court has issued
an injunction against a 16-year-old girl
ordering her to stop walking around
her house naked in front of her 80-year-
old stepfather. The elderly man claims
the parading is part of a plot by the girl
and her mother to induce a heart attack
so they can inherit his money.

NO SENSE OF HUMOR
FERNDALE, MICHIGAN—Sam’s Jam, a
new-and-used-record store, has caused
a flap with its advertising slogan, “We
Give Good Ear.” Printed ads and a
billboard displayed a woman licking
the side of a record, and local women
called to complain. Lamented the
shop's owner, “If this were California,

we wouldn’t have any trouble.”

LIFE LOBBY

HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS—A 31-year-old
inmate sentenced to death for the slay-
ing of a state trooper has registered
with the Texas secretary of state as a
lobbyist against capital punishment.
He explained to reporters, “Basically, I
did it because we suffered a real bad PR
problem.”

NEW TACTIC

PHOENIX—4n a novel approach to the
drug problem, Arizona is now requir-
ing dealers of marijuana and other con-
trolled substances to obtain a 8100 state
license before doing business. In addi-
tion, the dealers must pay a tax of ten
dollars per ounce on the sale of pot and
$125 per ounce on any other illegal
drugs. The §100 fee includes a license
certificate suitable for framing, and
state revenue officials are even printing
stamps, similar to those on cigarette
packs, in ounce, gram, pound and kilo
denominations. The new law, officials
say, could bring in millions, because the
state can seize the property of pushers
arrested with unstamped dope.

ALL IN THE FAMILY
boston—A 26-year-old woman and
her former father-in-law will be per-
mitted to marry under the new Massa-
chusetts marriage law. The old law,
dating back to 1794, prohibited mar-
riages between women and all sorts

of nonblood relatives—father-in-law,
stepfather, grandmother’s husband,
granddaughter’s husband, husband's
grandfather or husband's son—with
equivalent prohibitions for men. In this
case, the wornan said she met her hus-
band's father, who was divorcing his
wife of 20 years, while her own divorce
was in progress.

PLAYBOY

that read smecma. The owner said he had
returned the plate in order to avoid trou-
ble, so out of curiosity, I ran it through the
computer and it came back as being
reported stolen on 8/11/81. I found that
quite interesting. What do you think?
(Name withheld by request)
Norwalk, Connecticut
We think the owner didn’t want hassles
but did want to keep his nifty plate for a
souvenir, is what we think.

"QUATTING THE РОТ
Back before the late Al Capp converted
from a humanitarian liberal into a cranky

right winger, his comic strip Li’! Abner
featured a character called Fearless Fos-
dick, patterned after the hero in Dick 7ra-
cy. 1 read it as a little kid and remember
Capp’s satirical detective trying to track
down а can of poisoned beans before they
could be eaten by some innocent family.
Usually, what would happen was that
he’d kick in the door, blow holes in every-
body and then discover that the beans they
were about to eat were harmless. He'd
shrug and say something like, “Well, the
joke’s on me!”

The Government’s efforts to spray par-
aquat on domestic marijuana reminds me

THE WAGES OF SIN

In a New York case
titled In Re Alice D., a
judge of the small-
claims court decided
just what is appro-
priate to say and do
when your lover becomes pregnant;
and, perhaps even more important, he
also set down, for possibly the first
time, the standards, warranties and
legal etiquette required of today’s con-
senting adults,

Alice D. met William M. in 1979.
Their relationship evolved from being
“good” friends (as compared, I sup-
pose, with being “bad” friends) to
being lovers after two years. According
to testimony at the trial, they discussed
birth control. Alice had intended to use
a diaphragm, but William persuaded
her not to use it, assuring her that he
suffered (so to speak) from hydrocele, a
condition that made him sterile. Rely-
ing on his claim of sterility, they made
love. Unfortunately, William was not
very sterile and Alice became more
than a little pregnant.

‘The pregnancy not only ended. their
love affair, it buried their friendship as
well. Alice then sued William for the
cost of her abortion, lost earnings, pain
and suffering and for what the court
referred to as “negative changes” in
her physical appearance.

The prime legal questions appeared
to be whether or not William’s asser-
tion to Alice that he was sterile was a
fraudulent misrepresentation and what
responsibility Alice had to confirm
whether or not William was, indeed,
sterile. According to the judge, “Соп-
sidering such factors as the length of
time the parties had known one anoth-
er, the regularity with which they saw
each other, the degree of intimacy
between them and the seriousness to
the claimant [Alice] of the issue of birth.
control and of an unwanted pregnancy,

I hold that she was
entitled to trust the de-
fendant’s statement.
Her reliance was rea-
sonable and justified.”
He then added, after
casting doubt on the sterilizing influ-
ence of hydrocele, “Had their love-
making resulted from a more casual
encounter, I might have resolved the is-
sue of reliance differently.” What he
seems to be saying is that in a casual
encounter or a one-night stand, you
roll the dice and you take your
chances.

Once the issue of liability was re-
solved, the question became one of the
amount of money that William would
be ordered by the judge to pay Alice.
Alice requested $200 to reimburse her
for the costs of the abortion. The judge
agreed. She requested $4.35 for taxi
fare to the hospital. The judge agreed.
She requested $500 for lost wages. The
judge ordered that $210 be paid. Then
she requested money to compensate her
for her lost figure, for it seemed that
Alice’s breasts had begun to sag after
the pregnancy and that her figure had
taken “a turn for the worse,” in the
words of the court. Whether or not the
judge examined the evidence carefully
at that point is unclear from the record.
What is clear, however, is that he was
not convinced that those changes in her
figure were due to her pregnancy or
were irreversible. Therefore, he or-
dered that no money be paid her for
her lost figure. To compensate her for
her pain and suffering as a result of the
emotional distress of being pregnant
and having the abortion, William was
ordered to pay her an additional $150,
bringing the total wages of sin to
$564.35. — STEVEN J. J. WEISMAN

Weisman is an attorney and news-
paper columnist in Amherst, Massa-
chusetts.

of those “comic” episodes. If the Feds
don’t arrest you or shoot you, they will try
to poison you. Real poison, and if anybody
thinks the “precautions” being taken by
the sprayers mean a damn thing, he’s got
another think coming. That's public-rela-
tions bullshit to get the program going.
Fortunately, even us Southern hillbil-
lies aren't completely ignorant of the haz-
ards of paraquat or the bean logic of
intentionally poisoned marijuana. To
combat a “problem” by the essentially ter-
rorist tactic of chemical warfare against a
civilian population, even a misguided ore,
must make us look like utter fools to the
rest of the civilized world.
(Name withheld by request)
Macon, Georgia
See the next letter.

POT RAIDERS

Last summer, the Reagan Administra-
tion advanced extreme police tactics to try
to control marijuana cultivation, and
NORML became active on both coasts in
challenging those law-enforcement pro-
grams. The most publicized of them was
the spraying of the herbicide paraquat in
national forests. NORML was successful
in bringing together a coalition of environ-
menial groups that successfully sued with
us in U.S. District Court to stop the
spraying program.

However, a less publicized program is
much more frightening. The residents of
Denny, a small Northern California town,
describe a military take-over of the town
that included setting up a military base,
the use of U.S. Army and California
National Guard helicopters, roadblocks
on all roads into town and numerous
heavily armed, camouflaged men. While
that event was reported in California, it
received very little national media atten-
tion, even though officials claim it’s a
model for a planned nationwide effort.
Happily, asa result of a lawsuit NORML
filed last fall, no other “Denny sieges”
have taken place.

Kevin Zeese, National Director

National Organization for the Reform

of Marijuana Laws

Washington, D.C.

From the sworn statements of Denny
residents, it sounds as if the raiders com-
ported themselves like nervous cowboys
terrorizing a hostile community wilh
grand displays of force and rudeness. But
that’s what uniforms can do to people.

SETTING HIGGINS STRAIGHT

Speaking as a woman reader of
PLAYBOY, I find myself outraged at Timo-
thy R. Higgins’ comments (The Playboy
Forum, November) on women’s increas-
ing “demands” for sexual gratification
and their decreasing satisfaction with men
who are lousy lovers.

In those "good old days" he talks
about, women didn't complain about lousy
lovers—i.e., their husbands— because they

had no standards for comparison. Fur-
thermore, women were brought up with
the idea that sex was something only the
man enjoyed, and they just hoped they'd
get pregnant quickly.

As a working wife and a mother of one
child with another on the way, I am glad
my husband cares enough about my needs
and feclings to give more of himself than а
“two-second squirt.”

Higgins is right about one thing: With
all the forms of birth control available, we
no longer have to be either “celibates or
baby factories,” and now we, too, want
recreational sex.

Wake up, my dear man! If our new-
found freedom threatens your tender ego,
you'd best stick with hookers. They won't
make any demands, except to be paid.

Constance Dillner
Des Plaines, Illinois

Higgins is a St. Louis attorney who reg-
ularly does “The Playboy Forum" a serv-
ice, of sorts, by intentionally oulraging
complacent readers, who rush to the type-
writer and save us the effort of trying to
reason with him. This is probably how he
keeps in training for courtroom perform-
ances. This month, we have Higgins on
politicians. Take it away, counselor.

BELOW REPROACH

There is much talk of legislators’ im-
proper acts, both past and present, but is it
wise to eliminate from Government indi-
viduals who have human weaknesses and
frailties? It would be nice to think that the
people who were writing our laws could
relate to the average nonsaintly citizen. By
requiring all people who are prominent
and associated with the Government to
live a life above reproach, are we not driv-
ing away many good people who may not
want it smeared across the media that they
once tried to hustle the IRS or had more
than a paying acquaintance with some
masseuse?

This society must grow up and look to
politicians not for personal moral example
but for shrewdness. A decent, honest, kind
man may easily waste billions of dollars
that a crafty person may use effectively.
Even if the hustler expects first-class
accommodations and secretaries with big
tits, catering to his tastes is probably much
less expensive than having some honest
nitwit make stupid budgetary decisions.

Timothy R. Higgins
Attorney at Law
St. Louis, Missouri

GUNS AGAIN

PLAYBOY has often pointed out that the
gun-control fight is confusing, illogical,
ideological and remote from problems it
purports to address, That is the fault of all
the major parties involved, the National
Rifle Association included.

On the historical, sociological and crim-
inological issues, the N.R.A. is basically
correct. Groups such as Handgun Control
and the National Coalition to Ban Hand-

guns are right about only one thing—that
far too many Americans are needlessly
killed or injured each year due to the mis-
use of firearms, especially handguns, and
that people want that to stop. But their
respectability ends there. From a deeply
felt premise, they move on to distortions of
crime statistics, current gun laws, Su-
preme Court decisions and the Bill of
Rights, which, when it suits their cause,
they are as ready to rewrite as any rabid
anti-abortionist.

All told, they attempt to present a “hu-
mane” front for the promotion of a vague
goal by means of unenforceable laws that
invite widespread civil disobedience.
(That is currently the case in Chicago,
where a handgun “freeze” law has had the
effect of deregistering hundreds of thou-
sands of firearms.) Nevertheless, their
sincere struggle to save lives and their
courage in the face of numerous political
defeats touches something in the spirit

The N.R.A., on the other hand, is nei-
ther a body of intellectuals nor an organi-
zation conceptually averse to violence as a
fact of life. Rather, it is a 2,000,000-plus-
member national gun club. At their an-
nual convention, most N.R.A. members
will talk about guns, one another and,
maybe, the folks who want to take guns
away from them, but very few will talk

SUM CASE

This case summary comes to us from
Carl Mianecke of Palo Alto, California,
who says it is making the bulletin-board
circuit among insurance investigators in
the San Francisco area.

MEDICAL MALPRACTICE

Plaintiff contended that in 1976, the
defendant performed a tonsillectomy
and that in the course of the procedure,
the defendant noticed a growth on his
uvula and removed the uvula.

It was further contended by the
plaintiff that as a result of the removal
of his uvula, he was unable to return to
performing fellatio eight to 12 times
per week, as he had prior to surgery;
and that that inability was due solely to
the negligent removal of his uvula by
the defendant doctor.

Defendant contended that the uvula
is an organ that serves no purpose and
that the biopsing of the uvula could not
possibly have caused the plaintiff's
problem.

Defendant presented expert testimo-
ny from three ear-nose-and-throat
physicians indicating that the plaintiff
suffered from fellatio pharyngitis, an
ailment that can be caused by overex-
tending oneself in the fellatio field.

Result: Defendant attorney reported
that “the judge did not swallow the
plaintiff's argument and ruled for the
defendant."

about ideas, historical trends or the moti-
vations of their opponents. The N.R.A.
feels, correctly, that it is under siege but
makes little effort to understand why this
cultural civil war is taking place. Instead
of seriously attempting to understand the
reasons for this destructive conflict, the
hierarchy of the association, with few
exceptions, has chosen to become more
and more masturbatory—congratulating
itself on its short-term success as a power-
ful pressure group that can turn out angry
voters in a single-issue cause.

Worse, at the bottom line, the N.R.A. is
hypocritical about its one serious political
issue—legal gun ownership. If good ol”
boys feel they've been wronged by a liberal
politician, such as San Francisco mayor
Dianne Feinstein, who wanted to send
any resident handgun owners to jail, that’s
one thing. However, if the malcontents
attempting to drive such a politician from
office through a recall election are radical
communitarian leftists, like the White
Panther Party, then the N.R.A. won't
help them. In short, the Second Amend-
ment is important to the N.R.A. only if its
own people are affected.

As it now stands, the N.R.A. leadership
would rather rail about constitutional
rights than take on the real issues that are
a continuing source of strength for its
equally dim-witted opponents.

Paul Stone
N.R.A. Life Member
San Francisco, California

Stone is former director of media rela-
tions and project development for the
М.К.А.

CRIMES AGAINST PEOPLE

1 would like to challenge the notion
widely held by many liberals that there is
a fundamental distinction between crimes
against people and crimes against proper-
ty. The burglary of a mom-and-pop gro-
cery store may negate weeks or months of
hard, honest work by some elderly couple.
"Theft of a color-television set or a car from
someone who makes $6.50 an hour steals
some portion of that person's life. Crimes
against property, in cases such as those,
are crimes against the limited time that
anyone has on earth. If anyone steals that
from me, I'll let all the air out of that
fucker's rib cage.

Alex Murray
Albuquerque, New Mexico

With such an illiberal and uncharitable
attitude, you may not qualify for the crime-
victim-restitution plan we understand
they have up there in heaven.

“The Playboy Forum” offers the opportu-
nity for an extended dialog between readers
and editors on contemporary issues. Address
all correspondence to The Playboy Forum,
Playboy Building, 919 North Michigan Ave-
nue, Chicago, Illinois 60611.

B mg “tar,” 0.6 mg nicetine av. per cigarette, FTC Report Mar'83

ww мем PAUL SIMON

a candid conversation about old friends, craziness and. troubled waters
with the intense singer-songwriter whose music has spanned two decades

Among pop-music stars, it isn’t often
that the crowd pleasers also manage to
elicit praise from the critics. It is even rar-
er to find a singer-songwriter who was at
the center of the Sixties’ cultural explo-
sion—indeed, who was a musical infiuence
in that culture—creating new and original
music in the Eighties. By these criteria
alone, Paul Simon may be one of the most
successful composers and performers in the
history of pop music.

Now 42, he grew up in Queens influ-
enced by rock "n' roll but became inter-
nationally famous as a folk singer. In a
profession that celebrates youth and exu-
berance, he is an anomaly: serious, intro-
spective, low key. As a songwriter he is
given to intensely personal, faintly literary
lyrics but also to soaring, accessible melo-
dies. He counts John Cheever and Saul
Bellow among his heroes—but can’t think
of a more pleasurable evening than watch-
ing his beloved New York Yankees play a
twi-night double-header at the stadium.

Given the burnout factor in the world of
pop music, Simon’s consistency has been
remarkable. With his partner, Art Gar-
Junkel, he went to the top in 1965 with
“The Sounds of Silence”—and even a

“The whole world was big Simon and
Garfunkel fans. But 1 wasn’t. We were a
folk act and I'm a rock-"n'-roll kid. I liked
the blend of our voices, but what we did

was too sweel, too serious.”

sampling of what followed is extraordi-
nary: "I Am a Rock,” "Scarborough
Fair,” “Homeward Bound,” “Mrs. Rob-
inson,” “America,” “The Boxer” and the
climactic Simon and Garfunkel anthem,
“Bridge over Troubled Water.” On his
own, Simon’s hits have included “Koda-
chrome,” “Me and Julio Down by the
Schoolyard,” “Fifty Ways to Leave Your
Lover,” “Late in the Evening” and “Still
Crazy After All These Years”; the last won
a Grammy award as the best album of the
year in 1975. “Allergies,” from his recent-
ly released album "Hearts and Bones,” is
his newest hit

No Simon and Garfunkel or Paul Simon
album has ever sold fewer than 500,000
copies, and most have gone platinum
(1,000,000). Total album sales exceed
40,000,000 world-wide. “Bridge over
Troubled Water” alone sold more than
13,000,000 copies and has been recorded
by more than 200 artists—among them
Simon’s first hero, Elvis Presley. Because
Simon owns all the publishing rights to his
songs, and belause he now commands a
royalty in the neighborhood of 81.50 per
album, he is among the wealthiest of all
pop musicians.

"On a certain level, Arthur doesn't like
me. I don’t know if he admits that. The
зате goes for me. Then, of course, there's a
friendship that’s 30 years old. The under-
standing and love parallel the abuse."

At the same time, Simon has resisted
repeating past successes. “He has devel-
oped from a promising songwriter into a
greal one,” wrote rock critic Stephen
Holden after the release of “Still Crazy,”
in 1975. “He has continued to discover
and refine evocative instrumental textures,
inlegrating reggae, Gospel and jazz into
his music with the smooth authority of ап
American classicist." Of “Hearts and
Bones,” Holden wrote more recently in
The New York Times: “The new record
makes by far the most convincing case for
using rock "n* roll as the basis of mature
arlistic expression. On ‘Hearts and Bones’
. .. the lyrics dwell obsessively on the con-
flict between feeling and thinking, while
the music reflects Simon’s abiding passion
for the primitive spiritual fires of rock "n^
roll and his equally keen respect for the
more refined expressions of art.”

Simon's complex instincts can be traced
to his childhood. His father was a profes-
sional musician who later earned his
Ph.D. in education and taught at City Col-
lege. When Paul was growing up in Forest
Hills, his intellectual curiosity led him to
read poetry, but his instincts drew him to
listen to Alan Freed’s rock-"n^-roll show.

He met Arthur Garfunkel in grade school

PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALAN KLEINBERG

"I'm embarrassed to say I burst into tears
when I wrote and first sang the line ‘Like a
bridge over troubled water, I will lay me
down.’ Now it’s been sung so many times I
have no feeling whatsoever for it.”

PLAYBOY

and—inspired by the Everly Brothers—
they began singing together. At the age of
15, under the name Tom and Jerry, they
had a hit with their song “Hey! School-
girl.” A series of flops followed; Simon
went off to Queens College and, after grad-
uation, moved to England in 1964. During
a trip home the following year, he was
reunited with Garfunkel. They ended up
recording their first album, “Wednesday
Morning 3 am.,” for Columbia. It in-
cluded “The Sounds of Silence,” but only
when the song was released augmented by
drums and electric guitar did it become a
hit—and launch their careers.

When “The Graduate,” a толе for
which Simon wrote the songs, turned into
a huge hit in 1966—and became a symbol
of that alienated era—Simon and Garfun-
hel rode the tide. Then, shortly before the
release of “Bridge over Troubled Water,"
in 1970, Garfunkel went off to act in his
first movie, “Catch-22.” A partnership
that had always endured its share of con-
flict began to fall apart. “Bridge” became
their biggest hit, but when Garfunkel
opted to pursue his movie career, Simon
decided to go out on his own.

In the 13 years that have followed,
Simon has released seven solo albums—all
successful, though none as big as “Bridge
over Troubled Water.” Early in that peri-
od, he was married, to Peggy Harper, and
they had a son, Harper, now 11. The mar-
riage lasted five years. Late last year, Simon
was married to actress Carrie Fisher.

Professionally, his major disappoint-
ment was “One-Trick Pony,” the movie he
wrote and starred in, which was greeted by
decidedly mixed notices on its release in
1980. It was in the aftermath of that expe-
rience that Simon and Garfunkel decided
to reunite for a concert in Central Park in
1981, the success of which led to a full-
scale if short-lived reunion.

To talk with Simon about the intertwin-
ing of his music and his life, тлүвоү called
on Contributing Editor Tony Schwartz, who
conducted last month’s “Interview” with
Dan Rather. His report:

“From the start, I was struck by two
things about Paul Simon. The first was his
remarkable capacity to speak about such
complex concepts as art and creativity in
simple, evocative terms. The other was his
willingness to speak so openly about such
sensitive subjects as his seesawing sense
of self-worth and his bittersweet relation-
ship with Art Garfunkel. Both capacities,
of course, help explain why he has long
created music that is both accessible and
complex, personal yet universal.

“We met for the first time shortly after
midnight in his hotel room in Vancouver,
where he had just finished one of the final
concerts on the Simon and Garfunkel tour.
It was an emotionally turbulent time for
Simon. Just a few days earlier, he had been
married in New York to Carrie Fisher, а
secret and sudden climax to four years of
an on-again, off-again relationship. Also,
he was in the midst of making the difficult

decision that he wasn’t going to include
Garfunkel on his new album after all.
“Although Simon is not by nature a
demonstrative man, it was evident from
our first moments together that a certain
intensity would characterize the conversa-
tions. There was little of the cautious
bantering that often precedes these ‘Inter-
views,’ and more than once along the way,
Simon mentioned that he felt our talks
were more akin to psychiatric sessions.
“Over the next three weeks, we met
nearly a dozen times, often for three hours
at a stretch, in his suite at the Beverly
Hills Hotel, in Carrie’s one-room log cab-
in in Laurel Canyon and, finally, in
Simon’s breath-takingly beautiful duplex
apartment overlooking Central Park.
“People meeting Simon for the first time
invariably remark about his height—5'5”.
I was more struck by how easily he com-
mands whatever room he’s in. For a popu-
lar artist of his accomplishment, that
partly comes with the territory. But he
also gently exudes authority and clarity. He
measures his words, edits as he speaks, and

“People thought that
Artie wrote our

songs. ... And I think
that’s part of what
caused him anguish.”

his sentences often sound written.

“Although he usually dresses unprepos-
sessingly in jeans and T-shirts, his taste in
nearly everything is highly cultivated,
whether it’s the art on his walls, the
French pastel print fabric on his couches
or the quality of the books on his shelves.
Hiis close friends are nearly all involved in
the arts—among them, director Mike
Nichols, actor Charles Grodin and produc-
er Lorne Michaels—but few of them are
pop musicians.

“The exception, of course, is Art Gar-
funkel, with whom Simon has his oldest,
most competitive and most enduring rela-
tionship. Having gone their separate ways
Jor more than a decade, they were reunited
in Central Park. For a few moments, they
seemed to be living proof that you can go
home again. But, as I quickly discovered,
that wasn’t quite so.”

PLAYBOY: To your fans, it seemed recently
that Simon and Garfunkel had achieved
something extraordinary: You reunited
after an 11-year split and became a suc-
cess all over again. The climax was to be a
new album together. That didn’t happen.
Why?

SIMON: This is going to feel like that
Harold Pinter play Betrayal, because to
start, we are going to have to unreel back-
ward to late 1980. That was when I fin-
ished One-Trick Pony. The movie came
out to mixed reviews—and the sound-
track album didn't do nearly as well as I'd
hoped. It was a period of great depression
for me. I was immobilized. And it was
about that time that I came under the
influence of a man named Rod Gorney,
who's a teacher and a psychiatrist in Los
Angeles. I heard about him from a friend
and called him from New York.
PLAYBOY: Was your rapport instant?
SIMON: Well, I flew right out to California
to see him and went directly to his house
from the airport. We sat down and he
said, “Why have you come?" I said, “I’m
here because, given all the facts of my life,
given the fact that I'm young and I’m in
good health and I’m famous—that I have
talent, I have money—given all these
facts, I want to know why I’m so unhap-
ру. That's why Pm here.”

We began to talk, and among the things
I said was “I can't write anymore. I have a
serious writer’s block, and this is the first
time I can’t overcome it. I’ve always writ-
ten slowly, but I never really had a block.”
I was really depressed.
PLAYBOY: What made you feel so bad?
SIMON: It was many things, but essentially,
it was my work and my relationship with
Carrie. She and I were breaking up,
which we were always doing. Faced with
a problem that made us uncomfortable, we
were inclined to say, “Hey, I don't need
this.” We were spoiled, because we were
both used to being the center of attention.
PLAYBOY: And you felt you particularly
needed attention at that point?
SIMON: Definitely. I had a severe loss of
faith over the response to One-Trick Pony.
Also, I had switched labels, from Colum-
bia to Warner Bros., with great trauma.
When I left CBS, it became company poli-
cy there to make life as difficult as possible
for me. And that began a terrible personal
battle between me and Walter Yetnikoff,
the president of the company. It ended
only when I threatened to subpoena peo-
ple to testify that he had told them he was
going to ruin my career.
PLAYBOY: Did you tell all that to your psy-
chiatrist? What did he say?
SIMON: When I finished, he said, “I find
what you say very interesting and I'd like
you to come back and talk some more.”
Then he asked if I'd noticed the guitar in
the corner of his living room. I said I had,
and he said, “Would you like to borrow it
and take it with you to your hotel?” So I
said, “Yes, sure.” And he said, “Maybe
you'd like to write about what you've said
today.” I thought, That’s an interesting
ploy psychologically; so I said, “All right.”
PLAYBOY: And that did it for you?
SIMON: No, the first night, I never even
opened the guitar case. The next day, he

asked what had happened, and І said,
“You don't understand. It takes me
months to write songs." He said, “1 only
expected you to begin to write a song." 1
went back to the hotel and I wrote on a
piece of paper, "Allergies, maladies /
Allergies to dust and grain / Allergies,
remedies / Still these allergies remain."
Just that, with a melody. Went back the
next day really excited about it.

But that didn't make me feel the prob-
lem was solved. So we just kept talking
about writing. And I said, “My problem is
that I really don't see what difference it
makes if I write or don’t write.” He said,
“Do you want to make a difference?” And
I said I did. He asked if I thought Uncle
Tom’s Cabin made a difference to people.
I said yes, and he agreed. Then he said, “1
think Bridge over Troubled Water made a
difference to people. I’m interested in
working with you, because I think that
you can write things that people feel make
a difference. That's the reason I want you
writing again.”

PLAYBOY: Practical fellow. But what he
said doesn’t seem particularly profound.
SIMON: He was able to penetrate someone
whose defenses were seemingly impene-
trable. He was able to make me feel that I
wasn’t there to work just for the satisfac-
tion of having a hit but that there was а
contribution to be made. Of course, the
reason Га been blocked was that I felt
what I did was of absolutely no impor-
tance. He was able to say, “I’m telling you
that the way to contribute is through your
songs. And it’s not for you to judge their
merits, it’s for you to write the songs.” For
me, that was brilliant—and liberating.
PLAYBOY: What happened?

SIMON: Three or four days later, I went
home. And I began writing. Somewhere in
the middle of that summer, I got a call
from Ron Delsener, the main concert pro-
moter in New York City. He said that the
parks commissioner of New York wanted
me to do a free concert in Central Park,
and asked if Га be interested. I said yes,
but then I began to think it wouldn't
work. I was still feeling a little shaky
about One-Trick Pony. 'Then I thought,
Why don't I ask Artie to join me? Not the
usual thing where I sing and he comes out
at the end and sings three songs with me.
Maybe we'll do 20 minutes, half an hour,
a full set. I called up Artie and he was in
Switzerland. He travels all the time, loves
to walk places. I asked if he wanted to do
this concert and he said yeah. Then I real-
ized that if we did half the show as Simon
and Garfunkel and I did the second half
alone, it just wouldn’t work in show-busi-
ness terms. Which meant J would have to
open the show. Then I said, “I don’t want
to be an opening act for Simon and Gar-
funkell” So I figured, Well, let's try to do
a whole Simon and Garfunkel show.
PLAYBOY: What were you working on?
simon: I was on a real roll with my writ-
ing by then, but I stopped to go into
rehearsal for the concert. And at the time,

we were all in very good spirits. Well, the
rehearsals were just miserable. Artie and I
fought all the time. He didn't want to do
the show with my band; he just wanted me
on acoustic guitar. I said, “I can’t do that
anymore. I can’t just play the guitar for
two hours.” First, my hand had never ful-
ly recovered from when it was injured a
few years ago, when I had calcium depos-
its. And second, a lot of the songs Гуе
written in recent years weren’t made to be
played by one guitar. Still Crazy After All
These Years, for example, is an electric-
piano song. And Late in the Evening has
to have horns. So we got a band.
PLAYBOY: Once you got onstage in Central
Park, in front of 500,000 people, did your
differences fade away?

SIMON: Yeah. We just did what we'd done
when we were an act in the Sixties. We
tried to blend our voices. I attempted to
make the tempos work. I talked a little bit,
too, but I found it impossible to hold a
dialog with 500,000 people.

PLAYBOY. How did playing for a crowd
that size feel?

simon: In a certain sense, it was numbing.
It was so big, and it was happening only
once. I didn't have much time for an over-
view while I was performing.

PLAYBOY: And afterward?

‘SIMON: Afterward, our first reaction was, I
think, one of disappointment. Arthur’s
more than mine. He thought he didn’t sing
well. I didn’t get what had happened—
how big it was—until 1 went home,
turned on the television and saw it on all
the news, the people being interviewed,
and later that night on the front pages of.
all the newspapers. Then I got it.
PLAYBOY: What made you decide to follow
the concert with a tour together? To what
extent was it just a way to make some easy
bucks repackaging old material?

SIMON: Well, hey, it was old material. But
it wasn't cynically done- It wasn't hype. It
was done because there was an over-
whelming demand. The thing that struck
me was that people seemed to like those
songs, which I found to be really surpris-
ing, because I felt they were dated.
PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the record
produced from the concert?

SIMON: I don't particularly like it. I don't
think that Simon and Garfunkel as a live
act compares to Simon and Garfunkel as a
studio act.

PLAYBOY: Why not?

SIMON: In terms of performing, Гус never
really been comfortable being a profes-
sional entertainer. For me, it's a secondary
form of creativity. Pm not a creative per-
former. I’m a reproducer onstage of what
T've already created. 1 guess everyone who
goes on the stage is exhibitionistic, but
there are limits to what РЇЇ do to make a
crowd respond

PLAYBOY: What did you expect creatively
from a Simon and Garfunkel tour?
SIMON: Nothing. I thought I was going to
get an emotional experience from it. I felt
І wasn’t really present for Simon and

Garfunkel the first time around.

PLAYBOY: Where were you?

SIMON: I wasn’t home, the same way that I
wasn’t present for the concert in the park
when it was happening. I mean, a phe-
nomenon occurs and it’s recognized as a
phenomenon. But because you’re in the
middle of it, you just think that it’s your
life—until it’s over. And then you look
back and say, “What an unusual thing
happened to me in the Sixties.”

So there it was. A chance to go and
re-experience, to a certain degree, what 1
hadn’t really experienced the first time.
Some of those hits from the Sixücs 1
just had no interest in anymore, musically.
But I had an interest in experiencing what
it was like being the person who wrote and
sang those songs.

PLAYBOY: How was the experience?
SIMON: I liked it. And I began to think
about the songs. I remember playing a
concert somewhere in the middle of Ger-
many. It’s strange enough to be in Germa-
ny, and when I finished playing, 1 was
thinking, I hate Homeward Bound. And
then I thought, Why do I hate it? I said,
“Oh, I hate the words.” So I went over
them. And then I remembered where I
wrote it. І was in Liverpool, actually in a
railway station. I'd just played a little folk
job. The job of a folk singer in those days
was to be Bob Dylan. You had to be a
poet. That’s what they wanted. And I
thought that was a drag. And I wanted to
get home to my girlfriend, Kathy, in Lon-
don. I was 22. And then I thought, Well,
that’s not a bad song at all for a 22-year-
old kid. It’s actually quite touching now
that I see it. So I wonder what's so embar-
rassing to me about it. Then I said, “I
know! It’s that I don’t want to be singing
that song as Simon and Garfunkel!”
PLAYBOY: Why not?

SIMON: Because Simon and Garfunkel, as
Artie said to me just recently, was the
songs of Paul Simon, which people liked,
and the voices of Paul Simon and Arthur
Garfunkel, which combined to make a
sound that people really liked. And no
question, without Arthur's voice, I never
would have enjoyed that success. And so
the whole world was big Simon and Gar-
funkel fans. But I wasn’t.

Actually, I'm a rock-’n’-roll kid. I grew
up with rock "n' roll. My main influences
in early music were Fifties R&B, Fifties
doo-wop groups, Elvis Presley and the
Everly Brothers. But Simon and Garfun-
kel was a folkie act. I liked the blend of
our voices, but a significant part of me just
wasn’t a folkie. What we were doing was
too sweet. It was too serious.

When I began making my own albums,
the songs became funkier. They were
more about the streets.

PLAYBOY. How did you and Artie get along

on the European reunion tour?

SIMON: We were hardly speaking to each

other. I'm not sure why not. It wasn't my

choice. 1 felt he wasn’t speaking to me.
(continued on page 163)

clean-cut kid with the golden arm
tells how compulsive gambling
made him a quarterback on the run
memoir by
ART SCHLICHTER with DICK SCHAAP

THE SELF-DESTRUCTION
OF AN ALL-AMERICAN

for the first time, the

EOFF HUSTON stood on the foul line with
one second to play. He had two foul
shots coming, and his team, the Cleve-
land Cavaliers, was losing by six points. The

Cavaliers, one of the worst teams in pro basket-

bail, were the underdogs by five and a half points.

I bad bet on the Cleveland Cavaliers. That tells
you something about how sick I was.

All Geoff Huston had to do was make one of his
two foul shots and Cleveland would lose by fewer
than five and a half points and I would win my bet. It
meant a lot to me. Between parlays and straight bets,
it meant $50,000, to be exact.

I was watching the game on television with my

mother and father in the rec room im the base-
ment of our farmhouse in Bloomingburg, Ohio,
less than an hour’s drive from Columbus. I was
surrounded by the trophics and mementos of my
athletic career at Miami Trace High School and
Ohio State University. I was the starting quarter-
back at Miami Trace for three years, and in three
years, we never lost a game. I was all-state in foot-
ball and in basketball, too. In the semifinal game of
the state basketball championships, I scored 23
points, and the man who guarded me, John Paxson,
went on to be an all-American at Notre Dame.

At Ohio State, in Columbus, I started 48 straight
games at quarterback, every game from my freshman

ILLUSTRATION BY TERESA FASOUNO

PLAYBOY

through my senior year, no matter how
banged up I was. If I was hurting, I took
shots. I wanted to play. When I was a
freshman, a doctor in Zanesville, Ohio,
started the King Arthur Fan Club—a
bunch of adults in a fan club for an 18-
year-old kid. They wore shirts with my
picture on them. When I was a sopho-
more, I was U.P.I.'s Player of the Year in
the Big Ten, all-American in The Sport-
ing News and fourth in the voting for the
Heisman Trophy, the highest any sopho-
more had finished up till then. When I
was a junior, a sportswriter wrote ту
biography. It came out when I was 21
years old. It was called Straight Arrow. It
was a big book in Ohio.

When I was a senior, 1 set Ohio State
records for passing yardage, touchdown
passes and total offense, both for a single
season and for а career. During my four
college years, I threw for 50 touchdowns
and ran for 35. I gained 8850 total yards,
far beyond the old Ohio State record for
total offense, set by Archie Griffin, who
won the Heisman Trophy two years in a
row in the Seventies. After my senior sea-
son, I was the fourth man selected in the
National Football League draft, the first.
quarterback picked. The rec room in
Bloomingburg was filled with scrapbooks
and video tapes of my greatest games. But
the only game I cared about right then, in
Janvary 1983, was the Cleveland Cava-
liers’ basketball game.

Geoff Huston missed the first foul shot.
I sat there. I didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t
say a word.

I had just finished my rookie year with
the Baltimore Colts. I was supposed to
have had a good season. I had a miserable
one. I was the worst quarterback on the
worst team in the N.F.L. We didn’t win a
game, and I completed only 17 of 37
passes all year, not one for a touchdown,
not even one for a really long gain. I was
so lousy that it got to the point, before the
strike-shortened season ended, where 1
didn’t care if I never called a play again.
All I wanted to call was my bookmaker.

Huston missed the second foul shot. I
was out $50,000. I thought the top was
going to blow off my head. But I didn’t
flinch. I didn't show any emotion. I just
said good night to my mother and father
and went up to my room, and for the next
three hours, I puked. I threw up ту
guts.

The nightmares blur in my mind. I'm
not even sure if Huston missed the two
foul shots that night or the night I was
driving down the highway, listening to a
game on the radio—the night I thought
seriously about driving off the road. Or
maybe he missed the foul shots the night I
got down on my knees and cried and
prayed for everything to end. The gam-
bling. The losing. The lying. The sleepless
nights. The painful days. Everything. 1
wanted all of it to end. I wanted to go to

sleep and not get up, not face another
day.

I had lost so much money gambling. I
had used up the $350,000 bonus I got for
signing with the Colts. I had used up my
$140,000 rookie salary. 1 had gone into
my parents’ savings, and they had worked
hard farming all their lives to make their
money. I had borrowed from friends and
strangers, relatives and banks. I must have
lost $1,000,000, I guess. Maybe more than
a million. I don’t know. I didn’t keep
track, The money wasn’t important.
Gambling, betting—that’s what was im-
portant. Doing something wrong, some-
thing sneaky. All my life, people had been
telling me what I should do, what I should
say. Do this. Say that. Smile. Sign auto-
graphs. Answer dumb questions. Be a
good guy. Be a nice guy. Be the straight
arrow. Screw it.

Gambling was the onc way I could say
“Screw it, I can do whatever I want." It
was my outlet, my release. I got high when
I placed a bet. Not when I won a bet.
When I placed it.

Right up until the time I went to the
FBI last March and told them everything
and then told the National Football
League everything, tumed myself in, got
myself suspended indefinitely — which
means for at least one season and may-
be morc—right up till then, I lied. I lied to
my friends, to my parents, to myself. I was
very good at lying. It was the thing I
learned best in college. | had to to hide my
gambling.

That’s not easy for me to say. Not out
loud. Pm used to hiding things like that
inside me and just smiling and saying
things like, *I learned to win at Ohio
State . . . I learned character . . . I learned
teamwork . . . I learned. . . .” Bullshit.
I learned how to lie. I taught myself. Now
I'm trying to learn how to tell the truth.
"To myself, first of all.

I almost wish I hadn't gone to Ohio
State. Oh, I love the university. I guess I
love the idea of Ohio State. I loved rooting
for Ohio State before I went there, and I
love rooting for Ohio State now. I even
want to go back there. I want to finish my
studies, get my degree. But I didn't love
the four years I was there. I wasted those
years in so many ways. I wasted them on
the football field. And off.

I went to Ohio State because of Woody
Hayes, because he was a legend in Ohio
and he wanted me to go there and he
came to Miami Trace High School and
watched me play and made me feel like 1
was special, like I was very important.
Best of all, he made me feel like he was
going to change his style of coaching for
me. Woody Hayes and Ohio State were
known for the running game, not for the
passing game, and no quarterback who
played for him at Ohio State had ever
made it big in the N.F.L.—not as a quar-
terback. But it was going to be different

for me. I was а passer, I had an arm and I
was going to lead Woody Hayes and Ohio
State into the modern age of football.
Woody didn’t promise me that I'd throw
all the time, didn’t even promise me that
Га play all the time. But he made me feel I
was so special. Of course I'd play, of
course I'd pass—no question about it.

Joe Paterno, the Penn State coach,
came to Bloomingburg and tried to per-
suade me to go to his school. Michigan
wanted me badly, and so did Stanford,
which already had a reputation for pre-
paring passers for pro football, and so did
a hundred other schools I didn't even con-
sider. But most of the people I knew
wanted me to go up the road to Ohio State,
where they could follow me, where they
could cheer for me. I liked the idea, too.

T liked Hayes the one year I played for
him, my freshman year. I admired him as
a coach and as a man. I don’t think he
used me properly, but that might have
been my fault as much as his. He started
me at quarterback the first game my
freshman year—he'd never started а
freshman quarterback before—without
telling the press or the public that I was
going to start. He put me in ahead of a
senior quarterback named Rod Gerald,
who had been starting for two years.
Gerald was black, and right from the
beginning, I had trouble with my black
teammates—trouble I hadn't caused—and
with some of the white ones, too. It was а
veteran team, a lot of fifth-year players, a
pretty wild group, and I was an 18-year-
old kid who didn’t smoke, didn’t drink,
didn’t do drugs, didn’t even go out for a
beer with the guys. I was a loner by
nature, and the situation made me even
more of a loner.

Still, I figured I was strong and I was
good and I would prove myself on the
field, and nothing else mattered. The first
play from scrimmage, the first game,
against Penn State, I threw a pass and
completed it, and I thought it was a terrif-
ic omen. Then I threw five interceptions,
and Penn State shut us ош. That was the
real omen. Woody wasn't used to being
shut out, wasn't used to losing at all. 1
ended up throwing an average of fewer
than 15 passes a game that season, and we
lost four games.

"The last game, in the Gator Bowl
against Clemson, we lost our coach, too.
Woody went off the deep end. On national
television, he punched an opposing player,
punched a Clemson linebacker who had
just intercepted one of my passes. Woody
was asked to resign—which might never
have happened if I hadn't thrown the pass
in the wrong spot—and the next season,
Earle Bruce came in to coach Ohio State.

Right from the beginning, Earle and I
didn’t get along. I don’t mean we fought or
we hated each other. Nothing like that.
We just didn't communicate. 1 never

(continued on раве 134)

~ 4 & -
рисб Grown
“C mon, Georgie, sit down; I promise to keep my hands to myself!”

101 NIGHTS
WITH JOFINNY

actress carol wayne ts more than the
most outrageous guest on “the tonight show.” much more

AROL WAYNE is setting up an appointment on
the phone. “When do you want to see me?”
she asks. How about Thursday? comes the
reply. "Thursday," she muses. “How do you spell
that?” Who can blame the person on the other end
of the line for wondering whether or not he's the
victim of a put-on? But that’s the effect—calculated
or not—that Carol Wayne scems to have. She par-

layed her ample physical attributes, her high-
pitched, cartoon-character voice and a talent for diz-
zy logic and double-entendres into 101 appearances
on The Tonight Show, usually as the unsuspecting
Matinee Lady to Johnny Carson’s lecherous Art
Fern, host of the “Tea Time Movie.” Later in the
show, when she joined the rest of the guests, the real
Carol—such аз she (text continued on page 160)

Carol, Johnny ond substitute bondleader Tommy Newsom rehearse for a 1971 sketch (top, left ond right). Above,
Carson's eighth-onniversary show, in 1970, with guests (from left) George Burns, Joey Bishop, then-NBC president
Julion Goodman, Dick Mortin, Jerry Lewis, Carol, Johnny, Dinch Shore, Dan Rowan, Ed McMohon ond bondlecder
Doc Severinsen. "This was strictly the bedpan crowd,” recolls Carol now. “The smell of Ben-Gay wos in the oir.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY KEN MARCUS

“I loved Jack Benny,”
says Carol. "He was al-
ways very kind to me.”
Right, she escorts him on-
stage during a 1970 To-
night Show appearance.
Of her puysor photo ses-
sion, Carol maintains, "I
never had any intention of
showing everything. This
was going to be peeka-
boo. | brought a trunkful
of clothes but, obviously,
none of them came out.
Instead, it was oohta
la. | was so comfortable
that | did it all the way.”

“l used to reod things obout the women who posed for pictures like these who would say, ‘Listen, I never come doing this. 1 always go
home ond cook dinner for my husbond and three children. This is just o job to me.’ Not me. I come,” reports Carol. “Н was nothing that
onybody was saying or doing, it just happened." That's the kind of outspokenness that has been a trademark of Carol's coreer. "I'll tell
you onything you wont to know,” she soys, “and I'll always tell you the truth." We believe you, Carol, we believe you.

LINENS EY: FRETTE CALIFORNIA, INC.

F. OQ. m КИМ

i suck in my gut and show her my arms.
not bad after seven and a half years in jail

fiction

By ANDRE DUBUS Ш

MY COFFEE'S GONE COLD and I look at her over the rim of my cup. I look at her
throat, at the tiny part that moves as she talks. I listen to her life and I know
when to nod my head and when to smile. But my stomach tightens as I try and
look like I know what she's sayin’. I see her naked, her belly against mine. And
I think how she was probably still intact my first year down.

Johnny looked too much like my brother Marty with his smooth face and
small shoulders, and when I saw him that first time at the commissary, I knew
T wouldn't let this kid fall, not this one. And T'd been in for four, three more to
во. And nobody fucked with me after the first two. They called me Forky.

I was a first offender. And 1 never would've gone down if I had listened to
Marty, if I hadn't a used the .38. But 1 did. And when that fat manager went
for me, 1 turned and stuck it in his face, watched him turn to butter. And before

PLAYBOY

I knew it, I'd gone from County to the
state pen at Canon. Five to ten for armed
robbery. And I couldn't even cry.

"That was the last time 1 saw Marty. An
hour or so at County before Canon. He
said to get a rep right away, to watch for
the lifers. Then he said the words and I
said 'em back. And I was glad I said "em.
And I thanked Jesus I said "em after that
letter came from my sister in Jersey, three
years down the road.

I light her cigarette and watch my hand
shake. And I know it’s not the coffee,
"cause I drink a shitload of it. I'm wonder-
ing why she’s takin’ all this time with me,
and I think it can’t be the free drinks. She
don’t seem the type. And even though she
ain't one of the most beautiful women I’ve
ever seen, she’s all right. And I want to tell
her where I’ve been. But I wait.

lt was my sixth day in the joint. And
the word was out that I was Leroy and
Wallace’s lady in waiting. Wallace was
the biggest. At mess, I looked and found
his bald, brown head, shinin’ like the cor-
ridors after lights out and lookin' just as
hard. He was at the end of the table near
the aisle, and lookin’ back now, there
wasn’t nothin’ to it at all.

"They don't let you eat with metal. So I
had to settle for plastic. And I knew Га
have to get a runnin' start to do the dam-
age I wanted to do. So three tables before
his, I lengthened my stride,
speed. And my heart was beati
didn't think I'd be able to line it up right.
But then Wallace looked up and his black
еуез caught me and he flashed that gold-
toothed smile, the one that says, “You's
mine.” And that’s all I needed. I drove it
in fast and twisted quick so that my fork
broke off inside. Then Wallace was up
with a kind of grunt-hiss, then a wail as he
fell over backward off the bench. He
wouldn't let go of my arm, and it was
warm and wet with that shit from his eye.
I wanted to wipe it off, but then there
were the guards and it was lights out.

She asks me why I don’t talk much, and
I tell her I like to listen. Then I tell her
she’s beautiful and she gives me that look I
ain’t seen in seven and a half years. The
one that says, “I don't believe you, but
thanks anyway.” I ask her to dance. It’s a
slow one, and I can’t believe I’m smellin’ a
woman this close. And I remember junior
high. Me and Be Bop Little. She had the
biggest ones in school, and all the guys
used to call her Be Bop Floppity Flop.
Once, I got her for a slow dance and I had
to pull away, I got so hard. I have to pull
away from this one, too. Just a little. She
looks up and gives me a half smile with
her lips, but her eyes are beaming. And I
swallow hard.

Johnny was a smart one. Even though I
was older and bigger, sometimes he'd

make me feel young and small around
him. He was always readin’ a book.
Always writin’ to the warden and his P.O.
Always talkin’ a couple of dudes out of a
fight and the hole. And he always had a
string a top-notch jokes when we were
drinkin’ at night. I remember him after
his first shot of tomato jack. Man, he
hugged me like a sonuvabitch. Couldn’t
believe he wasn’t gonna go five more years
without a snort or two. Then he found out
it was a secret formula. So he typed the
recipe up one night and passed it out to all
the Joes in B.

‘The number’s over, and I’m so nervous,
1 jump off the wagon and switch over to a
CC on the rocks, a double. She's not
talkin’ as much, and I think how I don’t
want her to get stiff. I don't want my first.
time to be with someone who's not gonna
remember. So I down my drink and ask
her if she wants to go for a walk. I get her
a pack a cigarettes at the machine by the
door. Then we're outside.

It’s almost cold, not too bad, just enough
to wake you up and clear your head. The
stars are out and you can smell the snow,
because it’s city snow.

“Where'd you get a name like Forky?"
she says.

I stop and look down at her, like it’s the
first thing I've heard her say all night, and
I think how young she looks for havin’ two
kids already. Then I take a deep drag off
my cigarette and look straight ahead as we
walk.

I did 90 days in the hole for gouging
Wallace. And in all that time, in all that
emptiness and quiet, I never stopped being
scared. And then the voices made it worse.
And when I got out, I was so scared, I
must've been the meanest motherfucker in
Old Max. And then I found out about
Wallace, about him almost killin’ one of
is own boys for usin’ my name around
him. And when I heard that, I knew I'd
taken somethin' out of him. I knew he
wouldn't come after me alone. So I got a
shank.

We walk up the street and it’s pretty
quiet, ‘cause it’s a Tuesday night. There's
still some ice on the walk, and I let her
hold my arm so she don’t slip. She smells
nice, and I feel myself start to swell again.
1 think I should start talkin’ more, so I
start to ask her her kids’ names. But when
1 do, my voice sounds phony, like it's in a
deep hole that it’s gotta shout at to get out
of, but it’s gotten so used to the hole that it
don’t even try anymore. So I leave it alone.
She's come this far without it.

A bus swings around us on the corner of
Fifth and Euclid. I see people in it.
They’re all starin’ straight ahead, and
their faces look gray in that light, like
wax. And for an instant, I get a chill, deep,
like a shock. I turn and pull her toward

me. She’s got surprise on her face. But it
ain't hard. It’s soft. So I lean into her and
she tastes like gin, but she’s warm and she
lets me use my tongue as she slides hers
over and under mine. 1 feel a sudden
weakness, but I’m hard and I pull her
closer. I want her to feel it, to know it.
And when she doesn’t stiffen up on me, I
feel like my soul is bein’ offered back. And
for a second, I see Ma washin' my hands
for me, hers bigger than mine, all slippery
and warm with the soap and water. And it
feels like medicine.

It was rec time, and me and Johnny
was in the yard. I had gotten him into my
routine, and we had just finished, red and
sweatin’ like bastards. I straightened up to
walk and Johnny headed for the fountain
in the shadows of the tier. I had just
started when I froze still. I remembered
Leroy’s face my sixth or seventh time
around the yard, he and one of the broth-
ers under the tier. And runnin’ back
toward it, | knew somethin’ was goin"
down, 'cause it was quiet, empty. And I
knew they was in the blind, that corner no
tower guard could see around.

By the time I got around it, I had my
shank out, and when that first sonuvabitch
turned his head, I sliced him clean right
beneath the hairline. Then Leroy turned
toward me, and that’s when I saw Johnny,
a flash of him, white as a ghost but breath-
in’. Leroy got in a crouch.

“Uh, big man, heah! Big man, Mothuh
Fork! Watchoo want, Mothuh Fork?”
His shank was catchin’ the light of the sun
as he turned it over in his hand. But I
wasn’t even there, man. I was five stories
up, calm and together, watchin’, waitin”
for my move. Waitin’ for the burn. And I
didn’t give a fuck. 1 wanted him. So I
stopped and stood and let him come. And
when he did, I shifted to the side and let
him come into it himself. I aimed high and
caught him in the shoulder.

“Cocksuh!”

He moved again, this time wildly, and I
got ahold of his knife hand, then cut him
again in the same place, jabbin’ hard till I
struck bone. His arm went limp against
mine, and I butted him hard in the chin
with my head. And down there in the dirt,
breathin’ hard and holdin’ his own
wound, he didn’t have no fear in his eyes.
But I could smell it, man. And I could feel
it, too, cold and clammy. So could Johnny,
'cause that’s when he came up from
behind and gave him a good swift kick to
the back of his head, snappin’ Leroy’s big
mouth to his chest before he went out.
‘Then we were outa there. Runnin’ and
laughin’ like whores, fuckin’ giddy with
ourselves, man. Scared shitless.

Her place is small, and it smells like
laundry and fruit. She pays the sitter,

(continued on page 158)

BEAUTIFUL
FOR
SPACIOUS

three cheers
for the red, white
and rosé

drink
By EMANUEL GREENBERG

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVE JORDANO

COME FEBRUARY, many Playboy
Clubs across the country will be
saluting American wines with a
month-long California Wine
Festival. The event is both fit-
ting and timely. It’s barely half
a century since the domestic
wine industry was born again,
starting from scratch, after the
great Prohibition drought.
Now, 50 years after repeal,
wines are being produced com-
mercially in 40 states, including
such improbable ones as Arkan-
sas, Georgia, Texas, Idaho and
Virginia. But the fact remains
that California, which accounts
for more than 90 percent of
home-grown ferments, is what
American wine is all about. It
also happens that the golden
anniversary of repeal is a most
opportune time to start a wine
cellar from the Golden State—
or to augment an existing cache.
The five decades of experience,
new plantings and frenzied ex-
perimentation by vintners and
growers are now paying off—
with (continued on page 150)

MEMORABLE YEARS

COVER
STORIES

a behind-the-scenes
look at three

decades of front-page
uncoverage

THIRTY YEARS of covers represent in a small way the
chapter headings of our history, how we became who
we are. It started out well, of course. Marilyn Mon-
roe was our cover girl on that first undated issue of
late 1953. The Rabbit followed quickly—premiering
in the second issue, in fact. Hef conceived of the
Rabbit as a means of personalizing PLAvov. He
avoided 2 human symbol—partly because of Es-
quire's Esky and The New Yorker's Eustace Tilley.
Instead, he chose a formally attired Rabbit as an
image of sophisticated sex that was, at the same time,
self-satirical. When Art Director Art Paul drew the
Rabbit emblem, it didn’t occur to him that he was
designing what was to become the second-most-rec-
ognized symbol in the world (the first is the Coca-
Cola logo). “I probably spent all of half an hour on
it,” Paul remembers. But by 1959, a letter mailed
from New York with only the Rabbit Head emblem
on the envelope was promptly delivered to Playboy in
Chicago. Since then, the Rabbit Head has figured in
some way in the design of every PLAYBOY cover—
whether as an obvious design feature or a subtle con-
figuration of a telephone cord or a strategic wrinkle
in a bed sheet. We even contorted Playmate Donna
Michelle into a human Rabbit Head. Although
PLAYBOY's covers maintain a certain consistency of
attitude, our graphic and pictorial styles mirror the
cultural weather around us. As you look at the covers
оп these pages—and the pictures that describe what
went on during some of the shootings—you’ll notice,
we think, what we have all survived: the sexual silli-
ness of the Fifties, the several liberations of the Sixties,
the giddy glamor and self-absorption of the Seven-
ties and the more engaging challenges of the early
Eighties. Remember with us, then, 30 years of sights for
sore eyes, always the best reason to visit a newsstand.

Opposite page, top, cur December 1962 issue marked our first use of the inside cover as part of
the cover design. Playmate and Bunny Sheralee Conners was pictured fore and aft with the cover
lines flopped on the inside. The matching photographs of Sheralee had to be shot simultaneously
by two synchronized cameras whose lenses peered through hidden holes in the bockground paper.
For the test poses at left, we tried the same sort of idea without the nightie. This cover notion was
originally planned for our number-one cover girl, Morilyn Monroe, whose untimely death came
just a few days before the scheduled shooting at our West Coast photo studio. Former Assistant
Cartoon Editor Cynthia Maddox supplied the cover charge on a record five issues. The one at top
left (July 1964), with the lapin image in lipstick, took some effort. Our comely co-worker had to
stand, recline and lie down without wiggling while staffers applied the final make-up touches.
That's hard-working former Associate Art Director Reid Austin on navel maneuvers. Top right is
the contorted Donna Michelle for a May 1964 cover (with a nude version below). Alberto Vargas
painted our March 1965 cover girl (right). We saved the full-length version of her for inside.

PLAYBOY

E. Ы
bw ө,
M. 4

PLAYBOY

MEMORABLE YEARS

PLAYBOY

Above, our January 1976 cover brought together oll the Playmates of the previous year. Art
Director Tom Staebler clustered them in three separate shots, one word ot a time. The letters were
originally clear Plexiglas but didn't show up well against the black background. Painting them silver
seemed to do the trick. That's February Playmate Laura Misch shrieking ond pointing to April
Playmate Victoria Cunningham above right, presumably telling her whot's new. At left, long-moned
Christine Maddox beams at us from her gatefold shot; below is her July 1974 cover, which mode
readers break out in sweat, too. That wos the first time the ғ.луво logo was not set in type but,
rather, was a design feature of a prop. Below, we tried the August 1982 cover two ways: first with
our Phi Beta Kappa Playmate, Vicki McCarty, giving us the eye, the ather with the shades down.

There was an abundance of so many good things about December 1982 Playmate Chorlatte Kemp, we braught her back to
grace aur Octaber 1983 cover (right). Many recent covers refer to one af the features in the magazine. As is clear from the
shots of Charlotte above, she really doesn’t need an excuse ta show up anywhere an our pages; hawever, last October, we ran
aur pictarial Reds—celebrating the auburn glories araund us—and, well, she seemed to fit right in. It was not just because af
her red hair that many of our readers tald us she bore on amazing resemblance to Ann-Margret. Managing Art Director Kerig
Pape designed the caver, which featured a crystal perfume decanter with Rabbit Head stopper. Below, we see what is
sometimes the seriaus business of warking with a wild-and-crazy guy who happens ta be wearing diapers. After the session, a
grateful Steve Martin sent on inscribed photagraph (below) to Tom Stoebler—who worked the camera on this shoot. “Tam,”
it reads, “thanks for getting me horny." The January 1980 cover, at right, launched the new decode with a laugh.

PLAYBOY
TEND y

h
iil

MEMORABLE YEARS

Celebrities showing up on the cover of тлүвоү always make big news. But when the one true
social/sexual/economic phenomenon of the Seventies, Farrch Fawcett, appeared on our cover, it
didn't matter that she had adorned more than 200 other magazine covers and had a poster that
printed money—she had fully arrived. At left is one of the outtakes from that December 1978 cover
shooting. It made us want to take up bicycling, but we preferred the reclining shot with the Rabbit
Head toothpick (above center). Above right is our December 1979 cover with Raquel Welch. Raquel
isn’t so much o movie star as she is a presence—no matter how the camera watches her, it likes what
it sees. Photographer Chris Von Wangenheim remarked about the decade’s leading sex symbol, “An
actress has a presence onscreen that does not translate to stills. . . . But Raquel is believable." Amen.

—

It wasn't easy getting Dolly Parton into a Bunny costume. Not that she wasn't willing, mind you.
But our costumes weren't designed to fit a body that looks better than any body's got a right to.
So Dolly herself got into the act and helped construct that stylish black outfit above. A down-
to-earth and very candid Interview with her was inside that October 1978 issue. At right, Barbra
Streisand asks the not-unreasonable question “What's a nice Jewish girl like me doing on the
cover of ptavaov?” The answer is easy: First, she's excessively good-looking; and second, she's one
of the most talented women of her generation. We asked about that in the October 1977 issue.

PLAYBOY PLAYBOY

Gids ol Ivy League Revealed

We featured three men on ғілувоү covers. One of them wos Steve
Martin. The two others were comparably cooperative foils. In April
1964, Peter Sellers (below), looking very sheik, alerted readers to his
hilarious pictorial inside. Above, classy clown Burt Reynolds gets some
tail and ears from Playmate Gig Gange! for the October 1979 cover.

It's not all easy going when we wont to put а superwoman such as
Valerie Perrine on the caver, as we did in August 1981 (above). The fans
and the smoke machine got a little overworked a few times. One of our
most popular covers—and issues—ever was the one with Bo Derek and
her amazing bikini (March 1980, below). To her lower left, Kim Basinger
gives a sultry preview of her pictorial inside the February 1983 issue.

MARO! 1980 » 52.50

BO
DEREK

м n
» 107.
INA
POWER SENSATIONAL
WHO'LL CASH IN NUDE
IF THEY PICTORIAL

LEGALIZE GRASS?

AN IRREVERENT
INTERVIEW WITH
THE NFL'S BEST.
(QUARTERBACK

personality
By E. JEAN CARROLL

SO HOT,
SO COOL,
SO HURT

for america’s most intense movie star,

veal life is just another pe

E WE ARE in the back booth of Café Des Artistes,
New York.

“Café Des Artistes,” says Hurt. “I mean, come on.”

“Pm having a great time,” I say.

“Café Des Artistes,” he says in his Richard II voice. “What a

fine place to take a fellow who feels he is an artist.”

“I didn't even think of artists,” I laugh.

Hurt smiles. “Well, fuck you,” he says.

The waiter appears. “Do you want to begin now?” he says.

“I wasn't so hot to do you in the first place,” I say.

Hurt smiles again. “Well,” he says, “the comparative thing is
that ат nobody.”

“Right,” I say.

"Nobody," he says again.

“OK.”

“Nobody.”

“OK. OK.”

“Nobody.”

Magazine profiles аге not biographies, and this is not going to
be one of Bill Hurt, born in Washington, D.C., on March 20,
1950; rcarcd on the islands of Guam, Hawaii and Manhattan;
stepson of Henry Luce Ш; graduate, magna cum laude,
of Tufts; ex-husband of actress Mary Beth Hurt; consort of
ballerina Sandra Jennings; New York stage performer (Hamlet,
Childe Byron, Richard II, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, etc.);
and movie actor (Altered States, Eyewitness, Body Heat and,
recently, The Big Chill and Gorky Park); neither are profiles
done on nobody.

“The comparative thing," I say, "is that you are a movie
star.”

“Qh, is that who I am?” says Hurt, leaning forward. He is
tall and has his temples shaved and his hair dyed dark for Gorky
Park and wears a brown-tweed sports coat.

“J mean, is that who I represent?” he says. “Is that who I am
here? So, who are you? Why am I being funneled through you?
Why”

“Well, really—funneled!”

“You never let me finish,” he says. "You're always interrupt-
ing. You count the number of times you’ve—”

“I wouldn't dream——”

“You did dream.”

ormance

He lights a cigarette. His legs are long and come a long way
under the table. He holds the cigarette just in front of his lips.
Doesn’t move.

“Let me push you around,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows.

“ can get away with nothing with you,” I say.

His eyes are straight in their sockets. He opens them wide for
an instant.

“Oh, we're getting away with something here,” he says.

First day of rehearsal for Gorky Park. Hurt arrives in Helsin-
ki. Christ! You've got an American playing a Russian. You've
got two Americans playing two Americans. You've got a Polish
woman playing a Russian woman. You've got Britons playing
Russians. You've got Finns playing Russians—where is the sty-
listic integrity of the piece? So Hurt walks in with a Slavic
accent. End of the day, Michael Apted, the director, says, Гуе
noticed you've been using this thing. Hurt says, Well, I assume
you've noticed it. Apted says, I noticed you were using a Slavic
something or other. Hurt says, We're not going to go with it, are
we? Apted says, Well, I noticed it. Next day, Hurt comes in with
a British mid-Atlantic accent.

‘Twelve days before beginning Gorky Park, Hurt is winding
up The Big Chill, a movie about a group of friends at the
University of Michigan in the late Sixties who reconvene 14
years later, after one of them commits suicide. It stars Hurt,
Kevin Kline, Glenn Close, Tom Berenger, Mary Kay Place,
Meg Tilly, Jeff Goldblum and JoBeth Williams. It is, structur-
ally, every great dream Hurt has ever had.

“So how are you in it?” I say.

“I don’t exist,” says Hurt.

“OK, you don’t exist. So how is your performance?”

“The work exists.”

“How is your characterization?”

“The work is more than the actor.”

“Good. Fine. So how are you?”

“Рт all right,” says Hurt, smiling. “I hold my own.”

It is 3:30, four o'clock in the afternoon and Café Des Artistes
is thinning out, but there are a couple of women at the bar and
for a while they don’t recognize Hurt because of the hair, and
then one of them does, suddenly, and her face gocs slack, the way
a woman's face does when she (continued on page 78)

à ILLUSTRATION BY MATT MAHURIN

in which we pull
the wool over rising
star rob lowe's eyes

attire By HOLLIS WAYNE

SOME GUYS HAVE all the luck. Last summer,
Rob Lowe co-starred with Jacqueline Bis-
set in Class, and next month, he’s coming
back to the big screen with Nastassia
Kinski and Jodie Foster in The Hotel
New Hampshire. As if that weren't
enough of a good thing, on these pages
we've teamed him with some more terrif-
ic-looking ladies to model the backbone of
one's sportswear wardrobe—sweaters.
The trend in pullovers—as in tailored
dothes—i y from body hugging to
a looser fit. Solid colors have faded to
patterns, and traditional V- and crew-
neck styles are supplemented with U- and

Left: Rob Lowe relaxes іп a wool-and-silk-blend
crew-neck (the name is derived from the style
originally worn by British rowing crews) featur-
ing o design that looks like a basket weave, by
Ficce Uomo for R.G.F.M., $140; cotton twill
buttondown shirt, by Ron Chereskin, $35; wool
knit tie, from String Beans by Superba, about
$10; and cotton corduroy slacks, by Roger For-
sythe, $В5. (His Tronel quartz watch is by Excel-
sior International, $80. The lady’s clothes are
by Missoni.) Below: Lowe gets a lift from a
cashmere “doodle” sweater that incorporates
ten colors into its “wearable art” design, $360,
plus linen slocks, $200, both by Alexander
Julian. (His friend's outfit is by Julian, too.)

boat-neck shapes. Alan Flusser's classic
Argyle sweater vest has the con-
servative vote; for a tougher, more trendy
look, try tucking your sweater into your
pants, as Lowe has done here with a Dan-
iel Caron black-and-red-cashmere V-neck
and a pair of black-leather slacks. What.
was Lowe's favorite sweater in this fea-
ture? Being the dever, diplomatic lad that
he is, he claimed to like them all. But we
did notice that he seemed inordinately
fond of Alexander Julian’s “doodle”

sweater, pictured on page 75. Or maybe it
was just the tiger of a lady on his broad
shoulders. Only Rob Lowe knows for sure.

Below: Lowe hes pulled on а black-and-red-
cashmere sweater featuring color blocks on the
sleeves that broaden his shoulders, by Daniel
Caron ltd., about $215. It's been teamed with
a T-shirt, by Jockey International, $6.50; black-
leather pleated pants, from Philippe Monet by
Michael Shulmen, about $200; and a lizard-
skin belt, by Jeff Deegan Designs, $148. (His
Black Conquest watch is by Longines-Witt-
nauer, $650. The lady's sweater is also by
Daniel Caron.) Right: Alan Flusser's versatile
Argyle sweater vest, $250, is cut low to show
more of Lowe's shirt, $57.50; and wool challis
tie, $23.50, also by Flusser. The tweed slacks,
$125, and the lady's outfit are Flusser's, too.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY GORDON MUNRO

PLAYBOY

WILLIAM HURT 4572

“ ‘The thing about Bill is that he has a base sexuality
that never goes away. He's solid." ”

feels her uterus rise through her stomach.
Hurt is not paying much attention, so I
say I want to know if he thinks he is
attractive to women, and he says, Not par-
ticularly, and I say, Well, don’t you think
you’re generally attractive to women? and
he says, Well, I wouldn't say so, and I say,
Well, don’t you think you're sexually
attractive to women? and he says, Oh, my
God, there are some women I can imagine
saying, How could anybody be attracted to
that guy, you know?

“Well, women are trouble,” I say.

“Right,” says Hurt. “It’s tough to stay
out of trouble. Everybody’s offering you
cul-de-sacs. Everybody's offering you a
comer. Everybody’s offering you an opin-
ion. I mean, what about restraint? isn’t
restraint an act of courage?"

“Let’s not hear about restraint,” I say.
“This is 1983. Let's be modern.”

“What’s being modern?” says Hurt,
frowning. He is really funny and nice and
says he used to be a wallflower and he still
sometimes has a soft, delicate, childlike
way, but now he is an actor and knows
how to cover it up.

“Refined indulgence,” I say.

He looks down at his leg of lamb. “I
indulged myself once,” he says.

“Once?”

“Once upon a time.” He picks up his
knife.

“Indulged in what?” I say.

“Seductions,” says Hurt. “I indulged
myself in seductions.” He rolls the leg
over.

“Tn—everything?” I say.

He puts the knife down. “Well [pause],
not everything.”

“But now you're not?”

“No. Now I’m indulging myself in my
family [he means Sandra Jennings and
their infant son]. They are the vessel in
which my love sails,” says Hurt.

He draws back his head. Laughs.
“Something like that,” he says.

I look at the leg and wonder if he is
going to finish it. It looks pretty tasty, but
then I remember the last time we ate
something at his apartment and he didn’t
finish it and I said, Well, let me finish that
sandwich, and he grinned and said, Go
ahead, fatso, so I change my mind and ask
him if Sandra Jennings doesn’t get jealous
of the females in his movies.

“That used to come up,” says Hurt.

"Does it come up now?”

“No”

“How do you stop?”

“I don't think of that anymore,” Һе
says, pushing back his plate and glancing
at me.

“Oh”

“No. Your work is not about dames.”

“But how do you escape?”

He wads up his napkin. Holds it in his
hand. “Escape! You just do your work! Do
your work! The work is other than what
you are. It is more than what you are. You
just do your work!”

Big money is involved with Park and
Chill. Hurt doesn't give a damn about the
money. "That is not the deal. The deal is,
you cannot pay him more money to do
something he believes in less. “You know
Eyewitness?” he says. “Remember this
movie, Eyewitness, I did?” I say I know
Eyewitness. Well, Hurt makes this propo-
sition to 20th Century-Fox. Says, Look,
reduce my salary for Eyewitness by one
third and give it to off-Broadway theater.
Fox says, Are you kidding? and refuses to
do it. Hurt says, In 50 years, nobody will
have heard of these movies, so who gives a
fuck. Says, See, the thing is, if they can
burn the library at Alexandria, how im-
portant is a film? Says, Come on; Mother
Teresa isn’t making these movies.

“There are scenes in Eyewitness,” says
Steve Tesich, the Academy Award winner
who wrote the script, “that I can’t imagine
anybody doing as well as Bill. They
needed an actor with enough humanity to
throw it away. Bill has an excess. There
aren’t many actors like that. With most
actors, you're afraid they're going to run
out. Bill won't. When I write things, I
imagine the performance but never by an
actor. I make up people who don't exist
and see them doing my lines. And that is
always the perfect performance. Because 1
invented it. But Bill's was beuer than the
one I invented."

It is six o'clock, 6:30, and we have left
Café Des Artistes and have walked down
West 67th Street and have turned up
Columbus Avenue, and Hurt is talking
about his motorcycles and how they're all
named Burt, after his best friend from first
grade, Burt Wallach, and if Burt reads
this article for Burt to call him, and at
West 77th Street, he slows down in front
of a place with tables on the sidewalk.

“Want to stop in here?" says Hurt. He
is in a good mood and is very charming.

“Oh, yes. All right,” I say.

“Let's go in."

“Looks swank.”

“It is. Let's try it."

A girl, well built but not classy, greets
us at the door. “Dinner?” she says.

“Drinks,” says Hurt.

“Drinks?” she says, looking at me.
“Yes—no?”

“Не? in charge,” I say. “I follow him
around like a dog."

The girl shakes back her hair, looks at
Hurt. “Menus?” she says.

“She’s lying,” says Hurt.

“Where do you want to sit?” she asks.

Hurt rolls his shoulders forward.
“Wherever you think,” he says to me.
“This is your fulcrum as well as mine.”

“No, it’s your fulcrum,” I say.

“No. Pm sorry. Your fulcrum.”

“Oh. We've had the funnel. This is the
fulcrum?"

Hurt smiles. He does not like doing
interviews but is holding up well.

“That’s right,” he says. “It’s what hap-
pens between us that counts.”

Hurt is in rehearsal for his prep school
production of Under Milk Wood. Gets to
the love scenc. Thc motivation gocs flat.
Hugh Fortmiller, the director, says, Bill,
come back and kiss her. Hurt says, I'll do
it. Pll do it. ГЇЇ do it next time. ГЇЇ do it.
Fortmiller says, No, you do it now. Hurt
hesitates. Fortmiller clears the cast off the
stage. Now, kiss her, he says. Hurt looks
at the girl. The blood leaves his forehead.
His lungs deflate. The sweat freezes on
his upper lip. He is 14, short, fat

“You were nerdy?”

“Yeah.”

“Dorky?”

"Yeah."

“Shy?”

“Yeah.”

“Zoddy?”

“No, I was never a zod. I was not ever
that.”

“The thing about Bill,” says Lawrence
Kasdan, who wrote and directed Body
Heat and The Big Chill, “is that he has a
base sexuality that never goes away. He's
solid. He has enormous physical confi-
dence. Just watch him breathe sometime!
It doesn't matter what he's playing. He is
at ease with his body. He always knows it
is doing the right thing. He knows where
his center is. He never fidgets. Watch his
hands sometime! You get things from Bill
you never expect and beyond what you
ever hope.”

It is ten o'clock, 10:30, and Hurt has
had the fried chicken and has called San-
dra Jennings and said he'd be a little late,
and then we have some more wine, and
then we are going to have dessert. The
waiter comes over and he is a nice-looking

(continued on page 174)

“Hey, relax. It's just my husband's new thermal underwear.”

wHo 15 the entrepreneur? What molds

him and what motivates him? How

does he differ from the nine-to-fiver,
and where are those differences most

telling? Why will one brother set out to

build a business while another aspires
to promotions and perks? Why docs one
stay up nights working on a business
plan while the other brags about his
pension plan? Is it brains? Luck? Hard
work? Something else?

When most people think of entrepre-

neurs, such names as Henry Ford and
Edwin Land and even Famous (Wally)
Amos automatically come to mind. But,
in fact, American entrepreneurs num-
ber in the millions. Of the approxi-
mately 16,000,000 businesses in this
country, more than 12,000,000 are op-
erated as sole proprietorships. And
while not all of those businesses can be
labeled "entrepreneurial ventures" a
dictionary definition of an entrepre-
neur is “опе who manages, organizes
and assumes the risk of a business or
enterprise."
Why, then, do we think of the entre-
preneur in almost mythical terms? The
answer is easy. Like the cowboys of the
old West, the entrepreneur represents
freedom: freedom from the boss, frec-
dom from the time clock and—with a
Jot of hard work and more than a little
luck—freedom from the bank.

So who is the entrepreneur? Anyone
who has ever looked at a problem and
seen an opportunity as well as a solu-
tion is a likely prospect. The same goes

THE ENTREPRENEUR QUIZ

for anyone who feels his ambition is 2. Have you ever been fired?

being held in check by corporate red
tape. But it takes more than just clever-
ness and frustration to get an entrepre-
neurial venture off the ground. It takes
guts, an indefatigable personality and
nothing short of total dedication to a
dream. On top of that, it takes the kind
of person who can call working 90
hours a week fun.

While there is no single entrepreneur-
ial archetype, there are certain character
traits that indicate an entrepreneurial
personality. In this quiz, developed
from a series of questionnaire analyses
performed by The Center for Entrepre-
neurial Management, of which I am
president, we’ve concentrated on those
indicators. If you've ever wondered
whether or not you have what it takes
to be an entrepreneur, here’s your
chance to find out.

1. How were your parents employed?

А. Both worked and were self-em-
ployed for most of their working
lives

B. Both worked and were self-em-
ployed for some part of their
working lives

(С) One parent was self-employed
for most of his or her working
life

D. One parent was self-employed at
some point in his or her working
life

E. Neither parent was ever self-
employed

£s

- You are the

A. Yes, more than once
B. Yes, once
C. No

. Are you an immigrant, or were your

parents or grandparents immi-

grants?

A. I was born outside the United
States

B. One or both of my parents were
born outside the United States

C. At least one of my grandparents
was born outside the United
States

D. Does not apply

. Your work career has been

A. Primarily in small business (few-
er than 100 employees)

B. Primarily in medium-sized busi-
ness (100-500 employces)

C. Primarily in big business (more
than 500 employees)

How many businesses did you oper-

ate before you were 20?

C. None

« What is your present age?

A. 21-30

B. 31-40

C. 41-50

D. 51 or older

child in the
family.

А. Oldest

B. Middle

C. Youngest

D. Other

10.

11.

ies

13.

By JOSEPH R. MANCUSO

have you got what it takes to make it on your own?

What is your marital status?
A. Married

B. Divorced

C. Single

. What is your highest level of for-

mal education?

A. Some high school

B. High school diploma

C. Bachelor's degree

D. Master's degree

E. Doctor's degree

What is your primary motivation.

in starting a business?

A. To make money

B. I don't like working for some-
one else

C. 'To be famous

D. To have an outlet for excess
energy

How was your relationship with

the parent who provided most of

the family’s income?

A. Strained

B. Comfortable

С. Competitive

D. Nonexistent

How do you find the answers to

difficult questions?

A. By working hard

B. By working smart

€. Both

On whom do you rely for critical

management advice?

А. Internal management teams

B. External management profes-
sionals

C. External financial professionals

D. No one except myself

14.

15.

16.

18.

19.

If you were at the race track, which

of these would you bet on?

A. The daily double—a chance to
make a killing

B. A ten-to-one shot

C. A three-to-one shot

D. The two-to-one favorite

The only ingredient that is both

necessary and sufficient for starting

a business is

A. Money

B. Customers

C. An idea or a product

D. Motivation and hard work

How do you behave at a cocktail

party?

A. Pm the life of the party

B. I never know what to say to
people

С. I just fit into the crowd

D. I never go to cocktail parties

You tend to “fall in love" too

quickly with

А. New product ideas

B. New employees

С. New manufacturing ideas

D. New financial plans

E. All of the above

Which of the following personality

types is best suited to be your right-

hand person?

A. Bright and energetic

B. Bright and lazy

C. Dumb and energetic

You get things done better becausc

A. You are always on time

B. You are superorganized

C. You keep good records

20.

21.

24.

25.

You hate to discuss f
A. Problems involving employees |

B. Signing expense accounts "m

C. New management practices
D. The future of the business
Given a choice, you would prefer
A. Rolling dice with a one-in-three
chance of winning
B. Working on a problem with a
one-in-three chance of solving
it in the time allocated
If you could choose among the fol-
lowing competitive professions,
your choice would be
‘A. Professional golf
B. Sales,
C. Personnel counseling
D. Teaching В
If you had to choose between
working with a partner who is a
close friend and working with a
stranger who is an expert in your
field, you would choose
А. The close friend
B. The expert
In business situations that demand
action, will clarifying who is in
charge help produce results?
A. Yes
B. Yes, with reservations
€. No
In playing a compctitive game, you
are concerned with
A. How well you play
B. Winning or losing
C. Both of the above
D. Neither of the above
(scoring on page 140)

Е.

KICKING BACK

our miss february has a case of the in-betweens; for her,
it’s best to take it easy and take stock

AYEARACO, Californian Justine Greiner underwent the kind of trauma only another
Californian could understand: She went to Kansas. Her plan was to attend the
University of Kansas in Lawrence. What she experienced there shook her to the
core of her 59" frame. There were no palm trees. There was no ocean. The sun,
when it dared to come out, shone down on some peculiar white stuff that covered

“If I need to be very independent, I can be. But Im insecure enough to be lonely
without someone to care for me. It’s nice having a man for companionship.”

Basically a homebody herself, Justine appreciates those who are well toned. “I just
don't like to see people let themselves fall apart physically. I think that if you can
look better than you do, you may as well. Because, whether people like il or not,
everything is based on the first impression, and that usually sticks for a while.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY KEN MARCUS

the ground for acres around. Mars, they tell us,
has more forbidding terrain, but the Kansas
wheat fields were enough for Justine. At the end
of her first term, she tucked her skate board
under her arm and flew back West. By the time
the first summer rays were hitting the Santa
Monica beaches, a happy Justine wasn’t in Kan-
sas anymore

“I was homesick, I really was,” she admits. “I
mean, people there are still wearing bell-bottom
jeans! I made a lot of friends while I was there,
but it wasn’t the place for me at all.”

Although she displays little loyalty to it now,
Justine was born in Boston and actually spent
the first half of her life in that area. That experi-
ence blurred to a few half-forgotten memories
when the family hopped westward. In Califor-
nia, Justine found the perfect place for her easy-
going personality: a sun-drenched hammock

“You know how you can fall into a group of
friends who tend to be wild or friends who tend
to be studious?” Oh, do we! “Well, I think I had
the wrong group of friends. I wasn’t superradi-
cal, but I wasn’t superstudious, either.

“I wish Га divided my time more evenly,
devoted more time to school and my family and
also kept my partying and my friends. Instead, 1

Gutsy Justine (above) executes the famous
suicide slalom—so named because the skate-
boarder faces the camera, not where she’s going.

Justine was first introduced to horses as a Four-H-club member in Massachusetts. This reintroduction came at the hot springs
near June Lake in Mammoth, California. She reported that the horse was a little skittish because it mistook the white stuff on the
ground for snow. It’s actually mineral deposits. It was Justine’s turn to be skittish when she was asked to pose in the pool at lower right.
"There were leeches in the water and the bottom was mud. A ranger got in and swam around first to make sure it was safe. It seemed
bottomless, and I was sinking in the mud fast.” Fortunately, our photographer made a switch io faster film and the lady didn’t vanish.

“Being a Playmate has made me more aware that I can be
sexy. I think every woman should pose nude—a lol of
women go their whole lives without having nude pictures
taken. You can really look at yourself. It’s an interesting
experience. I’ve gotten to know my body better.”

went for the partying and friends. I thought I was sooo
bitchin’. Really. I just thought, Hey, it’s cool.

“I didn’t know I'd missed something until I ended up in
Kansas, because then, I realized I could be going to a
school in California. All my friends were going to Santa
Barbara or San Diego or Berkeley or Chico—someplace
like that. If I had just pulled a little harder, I could have
gotten into one of those schools. Which would have been a
lot better."

Before we continue, we should say that we've been to
Kansas and had a nice time there. It’s not heaven, but it's
not a purgatory for Golden State underachievers, either.
"The lifestyle, though, is different; and in California, life-
style is everything.

“If you do something different here,” Justine explains,
“people don’t look at you; you're not even noticed. But if
you do something different in Kansas, people say, ‘Whoa,
аге you sure you know what you're doing?” When I told
people I was from California, they’d look at me like I was
crazy. My roommate, for instance, had never been out of
Kansas. I think she’d been to Missouri, which is right
next door, and she thought California was on fire, you
know. Really. I'd tell her ‘It’s not like that; it’s beautiful,
the ocean and everything” But some people have definite
ideas about California.”

Since she returned to the California womb, Justine has
been doing what she does best and wants to do most:

"T really enjoy being by myself, but I need the stability of knowing that someone cares about me.
I think I fall into the category of the kind of person who likes to be in love. Is that stupid?”

“I don't think I’m superattractive.
Tue always had the impression men
are attracted to prettier girls than me.
In terms of looks, I don’t think you
(text concluded on page 160) could say I'm a ten. Maybe an eight."

kicking back. For those unfamiliar with the term, kicking back is what you do to achieve
a state known as laid back, which is the ultimate state of consciousness for a Californian.
“To make it here,” Justine instructs, “you have to have common sense. You should be ag-
gressive but not too aggressive. Too-aggressive people belong in New York. They’d just
get frustrated here, because they couldn’t get anywhere

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PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES

During а morning coffee break, the would-be
CES Denil cary cenare QS Oye lve
receptionist and remarked, "It has to be prophet-
ic, baby. I had a dream about you last night.
What I dreamed was that you were an automo-
bile motor.”

“That doesn't sound especially attractive,”
countered the girl

“The hell it wasn’t!” leered the fellow. “I was
the dip stick!”

In the improbable event that the Bee Gees had
teamed up with the Ink Spots to form a new
group, it could have been called—just think—
the Gee Spots!

We wonder if you know about the stockbroker's
secretary who told her best office friend that
Chrysler was up a quarter, that Du Pont was
down an eighth—and that her boss had been up
a good seven and a half?

When my husband climaxes,” the woman com-
plained to the marriage counselor, “his reaction
includes an ear-shattering yell.”

“All things considered,” commented the advi-
sor, “I should think that would be a certain
source of satisfaction for you.”

“Oh, it would,” said the woman, “if it just
didn’t wake me up!”

A dulcet-voiced callgirl named Shedd,
Who's cultured, well-spoken, well-bred,
Had achieved some renoun
For her tone going doum—
There's a nice civil tongue in her head.

[think E should warn you that this is a pretty
rough joint,” the bar waitress remarked. “For
example, the guys who come in here are likely to
show their appreciation for good service by stuff-
ing bills down the front of your blouse.”

“That’s pretty humiliating,” declared the girl
who had just been hired. “I sure hope the
amount of tips makes it worth it.”

“As a matter of fact, honey, it does,” the veter-
an assured her. “In the course of last Saturday
night, I went from a 36B to about a 40C.”

What did your wife give you for your birthday
this year?” a salesman who was on the road a lot

“The same thing she gives me each and every
year,” he replied. "The only thing is that this
year, I noticed it was a full size larger."

What would you say to—well—a little oral
activity?” ventured the horny young man in the
singles bar.

“That all depends,” parried the girl. “Your
face or mine?”

Му wife’s having affairs with two guys at the
same time, but I have no idea who the peckers
servicing her belong to,” the husband told the
private eye, “so I want you to find out where in
the hell she goes when she takes off for those
parts unknown."

Ап elderly jurist with notions
Ingested some monkey-gland potions.
But he froze when they'd sacked,

So his female clerk cracked,
"Mr. Justice, Га entertain motions."

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines premature
ejaculator as a troubled shooter.

And then there was the girl who was told that
she could join the local men’s lodge—provided
she let the members of the lodge’s membership
committee lodge their members in her.

Î prefer natural blondes,” explained the horny
bachelor, “because I like to end the evening with
a light supper.”

Ín a recent survey on why some men are homo-
sexual, 82 percent of the gay chaps responding
said that either genetics or home environment
was the principal factor. The remaining 18 per-
cent revealed that they had been sucked into it.

Which of your parents do you resemble, Tom-
my?” asked the teacher.

“Му hair is the very same color as my moth-
er’s,” grinned the lad, “but Гуе got my father's
fixtures."

Our Unabashed Dictionary defines bordello as
a toll-cookie house.

The distinction between an alarm clock and a
penis, we've been informed, is that one goes off
to get a guy up, whereas the other goes up to get
a guy off.

Heard a funny one lately? Send it on а post-
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY,
Playboy Bldg., 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago,
Ш. 60611. $50 will be paid to the contributor

whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned.

“Му God, do you realize we only got it on two times this month?"

the bears started every year
with hype and hope,
but super bowl fame
always eluded them —
until a neu coach
came along

fiction

By ASA BABER

THAT FIRST MORNING at training camp was
worse than Parris Island. We got no
water, no salt pills, no breaks. Red Emer-
son stood up in the tower and yelled at us
through the bullhorn like we was slaves
building pyramids: “You fat bastards, no-
body’s in shape. I want another mile in
full gear right now"—stuff like that.

You think I wasn't tired? Га had a
pony keg of beer the night before, for one
thing, and I'd spent off season lying
around the farm putting funny things up
my nose and into my lungs. That, plus an
extra 50 pounds I didn’t need, made wind
sprints feel like marathons, I’m here to tell
you. Besides, Td had a big fight with
DecAnn just before I drove up from Paris,
Illinois, to Lakeshore College. She was on
my case, and I didn't care for it. “I'm only
dating you, lady,” I told her. “You think
just because you’re a nurse you know
everything. But what I do to my body is
my business. ГЇЇ play myself into shape,
like I always have, thank you very
much.”

DeeAnn just sat there and listened to
my lungs wheeze. “You always do have to
defeat yourself, don’t you, Dewey?” she
said to me. “If the rest of the Bears are
treating themselves the way you are, you
boys will never make the Super Bowl.”

“We'll make it,” I said. “Red Emer-
son's a hell of a coach. He'll get us there,
mark my words" Well, we almost got
there, but not with Red Emerson. That.
shows how much I knew.

“Bye, (continued on page 104)

ILLUSTRATION BY SANDRA HENDLER

a class menagerie of innovative furnishings that travel well

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rrom THE country that brought you Michelongelo, the Lamborghini Countach and Sophio Loren comes some of the world's most innovo-
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Mario Botta, has a classic yet contempo-
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folding coathooks, umbrella holders and
drip tray. It's $250, from Castelli Furniture.

PLAYBOY

104

DANCING BEARS oes

“I was the great Dewey Pinnell. The fans called me
Gluey Dewey. I loved to hang all over quarterbacks.”

Dewey,” DeeAnn said. She patted me on
my beer belly and put on her white nurse's
cap and walked out the door. “Good
luck."

“Bye,” I waved at her after she'd
gone.

Was I sad about us breaking up? Not
really. In those days, I thought any wom-
an who didn't want me showed extremely:
poor judgment. I was the great Dewey
Pinnell. The fans called me Glucy Dewey-
I loved to hang all over quarterbacks after
I sacked them. Yours truly, God’s gift to
"women and the N.F.L., starting left line-
backer for the Chicago Bears, number 53
in your program, cocaptain of the defense,
6/2" tall and 230 pounds by midseason,
two Pro Bowl nominations, able to bench
press almost twice my weight and to
crank off a 4.7 40 when I had to, 11 years
in the game before I hung up my jock and
came back here to farm. “Ме?” I laughed
to myself as I heard DeeAnn drive down
the road that night. “Why should I worry
about a skinny little E.R. nurse from Paris
when I got beauty queens and Bunnies
and Honey Bears running after me in the
Windy City? I’ve played myself into shape
every year since fourth grade, damn it.”

But that first morning of practice al-
most killed me. There were guys passing
out, throwing up, quitting. We all knew
Red’s job was on the line, of course. The
Bears started every year with good hype
and a lot of hope, but the Super Bowl
always seemed beyond us, and Mr. Beau-
pray wanted a Super Bowl ring the way a
junkie wants dope. So Red was out to get
to the Super Bowl or have us die trying,
and it was Merciless City that first morn-
ing, as I said.

I ate what I could at lunch, but two-
a-days always did spook me, and what I
wanted most was to sleep. It’s funny that
to this day, I remember the dream I had
that noon: I was back in Paris, and Dee-
Ann was straddled over me with her hair
down in my face, twisting like an eel and
moaning my name.

That's what | was dreaming when
Marshall Chambers sneaked up behind
me and poured a pitcher of ice water onto
my crotch. Lord, that hurt. One second I
was bucking like a bronco under Dee-
Ann’s thin hips, and the next second I had
a refrigerated groin. I chased Marshall
out the door on that one, I can tell you.

Marshall and me was real tight. He
was a fine quarterback who could throw
the football 70 yards on a line off his hind
leg; and when he was hot, he could pick a

defense apart the way a kid scatters an
anthill. We'd been with the Bears through
thick and thin, Marshall and mc.

I tackled him in the hall and sat on him
like he was a whoopee cushion until he
begged for mercy. Then I picked him up
and dusted him off and poured him a glass
of Gatorade. “You broke up my dream,
Marshall,” I said.

“Dewey, how can you sleep when your
future’s at stake?” he asked. “Don’t you
know what just happened? Red Emerson
got fired this noon.”

“They fired him on the first day of
training camp?” I asked, "What's the
sense in that? Give the guy a chance.”

“I don’t know,” Marshall said. "Mr.
Beaupray called down and told him he
was out. Him and his staff. Said he'd had
five years to prove himself and now it was
goodbye.”

“Who's the new coach?”

“I don't know,” Marshall said. “Mr.
Beaupray said he'd found somebody new,
somebody perfect for the job.”

“I'm going to miss Red,” I said. “He
was mean, but you knew where you stood
with him.” I meant it, too.

“The word is we practice as usual this
afternoon,” Marshall said. “Sweats only.
Calisthenics. No contact.”

“I don't mind,” I said. “I can take an
easy afternoon when I get one.”

“New coach comes in tomorrow,” Mar-
shall said.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” I laughed. “I
can hardly wait.”

Lakeshore College made a good place
for a training camp. It was right by Lake
Michigan, and on a clear day, you could
see Chicago to the south. I liked to pause
at the top of the steps before I went down
to the practice field and look at the lake,
the clouds, the sky. I'd think about how
big the world is and how small we are,
even us guys that are supposed to be such
tanks, and it put things in perspective.
Football don’t mean much toa cloud. You
can bring in all the PR people in the world
and hype it like Gang Busters, but the fact
is that football is about as important to the
universe as a grain of sand.

I liked to think about things like that
before I went down to get my brains
scrambled. It set things right, somehow.

I confess I wasn’t ready for what I saw
that afternoon, though. As I looked down
at the field from the top of the steps, I
thought maybe I was in the wrong place.
It was maximum weird. It was like some-
body was getting ready for a rock concert.
There was loud-speakers up and down

the side lines. And you should've seen the
middle of the field. There was a whole
bunch of banisters running smack down
the middle of the turf from goal line to
goal line right between the hash marks.

“What the fuck, over,” Marshall said.

“What is this shit?” I asked.

We got down to the field and the whole
team stood there, blinking in the hot sun,
scuffing their cleats and making those
sounds guys make when they have no idea
what's going on.

“Break out the footballs, Sam,” Mar-
shall yelled to the equipment manager.
“Тег get something started.”

“No footballs, Marshall,”
squeaked.

“The hell you say,” Marshall said. He
went over and dumped open a gunny sack
of balls and picked one up

“No footballs, Marshall!” Sam yelled
in that high voice.

Marshall was about to throw me a pass
when there was a whistle.

It was the meanest between-your-teeth-
tuck-your-fingers-in-your-mouth whistle
Га ever heard in my life. Marshall’s arm
froze and I stopped jogging, and I’m here
to tell you that none of us was ready for
what we saw.

She was tall. She wasn’t young and she
wasn't old. She had on a blue jump suit,
and there was a red ribbon that wrapped
her head tight. Her hair looked like a
shining helmet. I thought she was kind of
pretty, but she also looked tough.

*No footballs, Mr. Chambers," she
said.

“Say what, baby?” Marshall asked.

"We're not going to use footballs this
afternoon, Mr. Chambers,” she said.

“Js that a fact?” Marshall asked. He
was doing his Rush Street walk. He was
strutting like a rooster, flipping the ball
from hand to hand. “Says who?”

“Says me,” she smiled. Well, it was
kind of a smile.

“And who are you, if you don’t mind
my asking?”

“Mr. Beaupray hired me to get you in
shape, sir.”

“Hey, I'm in shape, baby,” Marshall
grinned. “I’m in shape for whatever you
want to do."

“Would you put the football down,
please? We have a lot of work to do this
afternoon.”

Marshall was standing right next to
her. He had his face in her face. I'd seen
him do this routine a hundred times. “We
sure do have work to do, hon. Where
would you like to do it?” Usually, when
he came out with that line, they either
melted or walked away. This time, it was
a little different.

It happened so fast we didn’t really sce
it, but suddenly, the football was up in the
air. The lady had kicked it right out of
Marshall’s hands. And to make it worse,

(continued on page 152)

Sam

HY PAYRE THE TY,
UR EA "p toon Eae UP

ILLUSTRATION BY MARTIN HOFFMAN

sports By HERBERT BURKHOLZ Tiir sra токм of the Winter Olympics is Alpine ski-
ing. Not everyone agrees with that, of course. The bobsledders and the luge nuts are partial to their own ways of
traveling over ice and snow, as are the jumpers and the cross-country boys. The figure skaters live in a world of their
own composed in equal parts of sport and dance, and the hockey fans are still caught up in that once-in-a-lifetime
euphoria of the miracle at Lake Placid. But to most Americans, the thrill of the Olympics is the sight of young men and
women skimming down mountains at breath-taking speeds on skis. That’s Alpine skiing, and there are three ways that
you can do it. You can race down at 80 miles an hour tucked low with your chin out over your knees, going balls out for
speed in what has been described as a series of recoveries from impending disaster, pounding and pushing for the finish

THE SNOW GODS

at sarajevo, the best
will ski as a
team—but each man
has his own stakes

PLAYBOY

line below. You do it that way and they
call it downhill racing. Or you can go
down weaving through a complex series of
gates at a much slower pace, a tightrope
walker on snow and ice, a balletmaster
dancing on knives, a measure of grace plus
speed as you shift your edges with an
exquisite precision that takes you once
again to the banner at the finish line
below. You do it that way and they call it a
slalom. You can do it either of those ways,
or you can combine the two and go down
the mountain at almost the speed of the
downhill, maneuvering gates with almost
the precision of the slalom in an exhaust-
ing hybrid called G.S.—giant slalom—
and that’s Alpine skiing, too. It’s all
Alpine skiing when you go up on the
mountain and then you ski down.

‘The two finest Alpine skiers in America
and, arguably, in the world are a pair of
twins from White Pass, Washington,
named Phil and Steve Mahre, and taken
together they are a unique and dramatic
force in World Cup skiing, the major
leagues of the sport. Fiercely competitive
on the mountain, they are equally suppor-
tive of each other, and each acts as his
brother’s unofficial coach. The results
have been impressive. For the past three
years, Phil has been the winner of the
over-all World Cup, while Steve is the
reigning world champion in the giant sla-
lom. Between them, they have won almost
every honor in Alpine skiing, including an
Olympic silver medal for Phil at Lake
Placid, but the one prize that they have
never won, and that historically has
eluded every male American Alpine skier,
is an Olympic gold. This month, the
Mahre brothers will continue their quest
for that gold at the XIV Olympic Winter
Games, to be held in the improbable venue
of Sarajevo, Yugoslavia.

Why Sarajevo? Well, why not? Set in
the Dinaric range, it has mountains of
Olympic proportions, including Bjclasni-
ca, where the men's Alpine races will be
run, and Jahorina, where the women will
compete, plus a climate that promises
snow 111 days a year to a depth of two to
three meters. It has all the man-made
facilities needed for Olympic competition:
two indoor ice arenas and a speed-skating
rink, meticulously constructed jumping
hills, a slick-smooth serpentine for the
bobsleds and the luges and a press center
both functional and comfortable. Dozens
of discos and hundreds of coffee shops dot
the town for aprés-ski entertainment, and
for the visiting shopper there is the bascar-
sija, the old market area, with streets of
coppersmiths, bookbinders and other fine
craftsmen. It all seems to be there, and
yet. . why Sarajevo? To most of us, the
name evokes the image of the slain Arch-
duke Francis Ferdinand and the spark
that ignited World War One. It does not

103 bring to mind the picture of a conventional

ski town, complete with Alpine yodels and
cowbells, Schlagobers of snow on the roof-
tops and mulled wine before a roaring fire
in the evening.

Phil Mahre puts the question into per-
spective. “I don’t understand how places
like that get into the Olympics. Until this
year, they never even had a World Cup
race there, and now it’s the Olympics.”

He says the words without rancor. He
goes where the races are held and he
skis the mountains as they come to him;
but the words are said as he sits, relaxed,
in the lounge of the Post Hotel, St. Anton,
in the Austrian Tyrol, and the comparison
with Sarajevo is obvious. St. Anton is the
quintessential ski town: Alpine, pristine
and colorful. St. Anton is where it all
started, with the legendary Hannes
Schneider, with the Arlberg Ski Club,
formed in 1901, and with the Arlberg-
Kandahar race, the oldest and most presti-
gious of them all. In St. Anton, the racer
feels a sense of historic continuity that
exists no place else in the mountains, and
perhaps because of that, the comparison
with Sarajevo is unfair. Still, the compari-
son is there.

The Post Hotel is where the U.S. Ski
Team is staying for the Arlberg-Kanda-
har races, and besides the Mahres in the
lounge, there are other members of the
men's team busily chatting up the girls,
playing checkers, giving the video games а
workout or just staring at their toes in a
racer's contemplation. The Mahres, at 25,
are the doyens of the team. Each is mar-
ried, with onc young child, and they travel
with their families on the World Cup cir-
cuit, their presence lending a sense of
stability to the younger, less experienced
racers. They are intensely aware that time
is running out for them in the youthful
world of competitive skiing. The Olym-
Pics, another year, perhaps two at most,
and then it will be over for them. For
almost ten years, they have been the core
of the team, and they wonder what it will
be like once they are gone.

«І hope the team will produce some
young kids who will take our places when
we step down,” says Steve, “but it’s hard
to say when. In the past, we had a lot of
kids who showed potential and then just
leveled off.”

Phil nods in agreement. "We've got sev-
eral good young racers this year. In the
downhill, there’s Steve Hegg and Jace
Romick, there’s Tris Cochrane and Andy
Luhn. In the slalom, there's Danny Stripp,
Tiger Shaw, Johnny Buxman. . . .”

His voice trails ofi. The Mahres are
slalom specialists, as is Buxman, and they
can imagine what it must be like for him
to ski in their shadow.

Not that Buxman feels that way. The
handsome 23-year-old from Vail, Colora-
do, is blunt about it. “I’m not skiing in
anybody’s shadow,” he insists. “This isn’t

meant disrespectfully—you have to re-
spect what Steve and Phil have accom-
plished—but 1 feel that Im as good as or
better than they are. On any particular.
day, I can be the best slalom skier on the
mountain."

Buxman isn't simply blowing steam or
indulging in psychic pump priming. Не
really believes that. More important, so
does head men's coach Konrad Ricken-
bach, whose primary areas of responsibili-
ty are slalom and giant slalom. “Bux has
all the equipment,” says Rickenbach, “the
athletic ability and the technique. One of
these days, he'll put it all together.”

But that day has yet to come, and there
are those on the team who fear it never
will. Buxman’s problem is that he doesn’t
finish races. He turns in outstanding
training runs, but as of this day in St.
Anton, he has finished only two races all
year. Speed is no problem, but he con-
stantly disqualifies himself by missing
gates and, oddly enough, that most often
happens at the very beginning of a run.
Somewhere around the third, fourth or
fifth gate, he'll miss the turn, and then his
race is over before it has begun. It happens
with depressing frequency. Some call it
lack of concentration, but one of his down-
hill teammates disagrees, saying, “I could
understand it if he blew out near the bot-
tom, or even halfway down the hill, but
how much concentration does it take to ski
the first five gates?”

Rickenbach doesn’t see it that way. To
him, Buxman is like a novelist who knows.
what he wants to say but is too impatient
to set the words down on paper one at a
time. Not that he’s lazy—anything but.
He just hasn't learned yet that you ski a
slalom course one gate at a time. When
Buxman is standing in the starting gate,
his head has already crossed the finish
line. He has already skied the perfect sla-
lom. Then he gets the start and he tries to
do it all at once. In one explosive moment,
he tries to run the entire race, top to bot-
tom, and almost always, the result is a
D.Q. (for disqualification) marked on his
score sheet.

Buxman's family—father, mother and
sister—are at St. Anton to watch him race
in the Arlberg-Kandahar. The elder Bux-
man hopes that Rickenbach is right. “I
hear the coaches say that John is basically
the best skier on the team and I get goose
bumps. But he doesn’t seem to be able to
finish. There has to be a reason for it.”

Patience. Getting it all together. Con-
centration. Words.

With no Olympic experience and not а
single World Cup race ever run on Bjelas-
nica, it was vital for Sarajevo to have a
pre-Olympic tryout of the facilities during
the 1983 season. Accordingly, a World
Cup men's downhill was scheduled there
for late January 1983, with other events to

(continued on page 110)

MACHO SUSHI

all you need is a little raw courage

OK, YOU SURVIVED the first wave. After that initial
hesitation, you plunged right in and proved that
you could eat all the raw fish those little guys
behind the counter could dish out. Like John
Wayne leading an assault on Guadalcanal, you
rallied those in your crowd who were faint of
heart: Squid? Watch this. Sea urchin? No sweat.
Your girlfriend was very, very impressed.

But you should have known the Japanese,
shouldn't you? Once again, they've lulled you
into a false sense of security (though, clearly,
any nation that can invent the Sony Walkman
can make you dance to its beat). Did you know

that in some of Japan's sushi bars, they serve—
illegally—the extremely poisonous kidney of the
blowfish, or fugu? The idea is to get just enough
of the poison to feel a kind of sushi rush but not
enough so that you die. Every year, dozens of
people cut it too close.

But now that you’re in the game, you can’t
back down, can you? All you can do is wait and
watch and try to be ready for the next wave.
John Wayne would want you to do it that way,
and so would your girlfriend. And, as the Japa-
nese say, there are lots of fishes in the sea. Here
are some you might expect.

humor By JIM MORGAN

ENIWINI
A school of guppies in seaweed

є -

WHOOSHI f © Y
Blowfish cheeks / L A }

@“

DUWAKADU
Hearts of sole

YUKKI
Toadfish fin with warts

SNAFU
Octopus and eel, family style

Whale anus

ALLUSTRATIONS BY WILL NELSON

PLAYBOY

110

SNOW GODS „аве 108)

“Sarajevo had io have its tryout, and so the race was
run. Nobody was very happy about it.”

follow in subsequent weeks. The eyes of
the international skiing community turned
to the capital city of Bosnia, curious jour-
nalists made the unfamiliar trip and the
implacable eye of ABC's Wide World of
"Sports surveyed the scene. It was meant as
a moment of triumph, but on the day of
the race, Sarajevo came up snake-bit.

The problem was the weather, as it
often is in skiing. Statistically, the snow
stays on the ground around Sarajevo for
almost a third of the year to a depth of
several meters, and subfreezing tempera-
tures ensure a solid base for skiing. On
race day, there was plenty of snow on the
mountains, but there was also a hot sun, a
balmy breeze and a temperature of 36
degrees Fahrenheit that made the Dinaric
range seem more like the site for the Sum-
mer Olympics than for the Winter Games.
Spectators peeled off parkas and sweaters
as the mountain melted away, streaks of
black and brown dirt appeared on the
piste, and in the hospitality section of
the press area, the line was in front of the
iced-Coca-Cola booth while the hot Oval-
tine went begging. Never mind that the
skiing weather had been uniformly bad all
over Europe that winter. Never mind that
the same situation existed across most of
the United States. Never mind that what
was happening was a statistical glitch that
should never occur two years іп a row. For
all of that, Sarajevo was snake-bit. After a
two-hour delay, the race was postponed
until the following day.

For the rest of that day and well into
the night, soldiers of the Yugoslav army
worked in a desperate attempt to save the
race. Fresh snow was collected, dumped
onto the course, sprinkled with chemicals
to ensure freezing and tamped down firm-
ly to form a solid base. By morning, the
mountain looked itself again; but as the
sun rose, the temperature rose with it, and
by noontime, the course was a mess once
more. U.S. Alpine director Bill Marolt
stood at the finish line, staring unhappily
up at the mountain. He shook his head
and said, “The hill isn’t any better than it
was yesterday, but they'll probably run it.
They have to.”

He was right. The ABC cameras were
ready, Sarajevo had to have its tryout, and
so the race was run. Nobody was very
happy about it, least of all the skiers, and
the times were unimpressive, since, as
Canada’s Ken Read put it, “I wasn't
exactly risking life and limb out there
today.” The crowd, too, was singularly
subdued. Many had left Sarajevo after the

postponement the day before, and those
who stayed on seemed to lack the spirited
enthusiasm traditional to a World Cup
event. No clanging bells, no high-pitched
yips as the racers sped by; only a passive
acceptance of the results. Austria’s Ger-
hard Pfaffenbichler and Franz Klammer
took first and third, with the Canadian
Steve Podborski sandwiched in between,
and Sarajevo’s Alpine tryout was an
accomplished fact. After the race, many of
the spectators stretched out in the sun to
improve their tans.

The only American entered in the
downhill at Sarajevo was Doug Powell of
Chappaqua, New York, who finished a
mildly respectable 20th. Powell was un-
happy about the conditions on Bjelasnica,
though he was too polite to put it into
words. He didn’t have to; his skis spoke
for him. After the race, he showed them to
Scott Shaver of Rossignol, onc of five man-
ufacturers’ representatives who travel with
the U.S. team and service the equipment.

“Will you look at that?" Powell said in
dismay. There was a piece the size of his
thumb gouged out of the bottom of one ski
where a rock sticking up through the snow
had slashed it. “Look, it goes right down
to the base.”

Shaver quickly slapped the bottoms
together to hide the damage, muttering,
“Thank God we didn’t use the good skis
today. This hill would have killed the
R'n Rs.”

To a downhill racer, К?п” R equals
rock ’n’ roll, meaning the good skis that
really move. A hot pair of slalom skis are
similarly called discos. Shaver was not
alone in his feelings. Very few racers were
willing to risk their К°п” Rs on Bjelasnica
that day.

Billy Johnson wasn't at Sarajevo, but
he is at St. Anton the following week for
the running of the Arlberg-Kandahar.
Unlike the slalom skier John Buxman,
Johnson has finally put it all together. He
is a hard-nosed, opinionated, thoroughly
self-confident 23-year-old from Van
Nuys, California, who is also a daring,
flat-out downhill racer. In 1982, he was
dropped from the team. Publicly, the
coaches say that he showed up at training
camp badly out of shape and made no
attempt to correct the situation. Privately,
they admit that it was his attitude as much
as his physical condition that caused him
to be dropped. Sitting at the bar at the
Post Hotel, Johnson says otherwise.

“Training camp is a joke,” he insists.
“The coaches have already decided who’s
going to be on the team. What you do at
camp doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

He takes a sip of beer, grins and points
an indelicate finger upward. “But now
they can't touch me. Not after what I've
done this year.”

What he has done so far this year is to
win three out of four downhill races on the
Europa Cup circuit and finish second in
the fourth one. The Europa Cup tour
ranks just below the World Cup, triple-A
ball compared with the majors, and its
downhill season ends early. Once that sea-
son was over, there was no question that
the coaches would bring Johnson up for
the rest of the World Cup tour, and with
him came Andy Chambers, who finished
second to Billy in his three victories.

Now it's the evening before the down-
hill at St. Anton, and Johnson is up in the
big leagues, pitted against the finest down-
hillers in the world, men such as Peter
Luescher, Podborski and Leonard Stock,
who won the gold medal at Lake Placid in
1980. More, as a relative novice, Johnson
will be starting far down thc list, in 43rd
position. In downhill racing, it is rare for
anyone starting after the first 15 to win or
even to turn in a ranking performance;
after those first 15, the course is usually
too chopped and rutted to post a good
time. Still, it's enough for Johnson just to
be up there again with the biggies. He
orders a second beer from the girl in back
of the bar, but he drinks only half of it
before going up to bed. He may be a rebel,
but he isn't a fool.

"That same evening, the Arlberg Ski
Club, the oldest such organization in the
world, holds its annual dinner before the
Arlberg-Kandahar race, and a visiting
American is invited to enjoy “einen ge-
miitlichen Abend.” It is, indeed, an infor-
mal and congenial evening, and the only
proper topic of conversation is skiing. The
two-day Arlberg-Kandahar consists of a
downhill and a slalom, the winner deter-
mined by a combination of the results, and
the members argue hotly over the chances
of the various Austrians entered. Aus-
trians, mind you, no one else. Skiing is the
national rt there, and to these people,
the possibility of a foreigner’s winning the
Arlberg-Kandahar is as likely as the To-
kyo Giants’ beating Kansas City in the
world series. Never mind that Steve
Mahre won it last year. Never mind that
Phil Mahre won it the year before. Acci-
dents! Flukes! On a good day, even the
Tokyo Giants could. . .

So the Austrian names are juggled as
the cigar smoke thickens and dirndl-
dressed girls carrying pitchers of wine
pass around again and again. Klammer?
Stock? First-rate downhills, but can they
score high enough in the slalom?

Christian Orlainsky? Franz Gruber?

(continued on page 120)

WOMEN
OF STEEL

a foursome that's sexy and strong

N THE third round of a fight forthe Wom- later. “I never want to hurt anybody. If I were
en’s Bantamweight Boxing Champion- into hurting people, I could go out and pick a fight
ship of the World, Graciela Casillas— and just be a rowdy individual. But at the moment
lean, compact, her dark eyes spitting а knockout happens, it's very . . . exciting. There's
fire—caught Debra Wright with a right а rush when you hit somebody with a clean, solid

cross to the jaw. Wright went down hard, her punch. You know your whole body clicked.”

head bobbing on the sweaty canvas in the Tucson It was nine minutes before Wright got off the

Auto Auction Building. canvas. Graciela, the only athlete to hold world

“I think of myself as a warrior when I step into titles in both boxing and full-contact karate, had

the ring, an honorable warrior,” Graciela says defended one of (text concluded on page 144)

Clockwise from top right: Graciela Casillas, 26, holds World Karate Association and
International Women's Boxing Association bantamweight titles. Pam O'Neill, 21, is
Buffalo's best bodyguard/wrist wrestler/cheerleader. Roberta Vasquez, 20, secures
LA.'s May Campany. Anita Gondol, 26, is the bodybuilder with spellbinding eyes.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARO FEGLEY AND DAVID MECEY

Anita hos been iror-pumping for only three years—imagine haw slick she'll look by 1987. Slickness, hawever, seems to be on
occupational hazard of bodybuilding for shaw. "We alwoys oil up ond also use skin coloring," she tells us. "No matter haw ton you
think you ore, you'll look like a ghost when you go under those lights. It’s pretty greasy—yau're a mess by the end af the contest."

“For a thin person,” remembers Anita of her days before the iron age, “I wasn't very firm. I thaught, 1 don't just want ta be thin. |
want ta be bigger, rounder, curvier. So | started working out. By now, I've gained ten pounds. My arms ond legs have increased and
my waist ond hips have decreased. From how | used ta loak ta how | lack now is really a big difference. At least to m

“This is ptavsoy, right?” asks Graciela. "And you
haven't even asked me what kind of men | like. Well,
I'll tell you. 1 like all men—t like mankind. When 1
get involved with а man, I'm attracted to something
different each time, something new. Sometimes you
like spaghetti, sometimes yau like chocolate, you
know? I'd say a man wha wants to know me should
approach me with courtesy and a warm smile. |
always look at the eyes. Eyes tell a lot.” And if she
doesn't like the look of yaurs, she con close them.

115

When she's not cheering for Joe Ferguson ond
his fellow Bills from the side lines as o Buffalo Jill,
Pam offen hits the front lines of wrist warfare os
the woman with a grip of steel. Nice nails, too.

Soon to be licensed as o professionol bodyguard—which means she'll be able to сопу con-
ceoled weapons—Pam will be more likely to perform strip searches than to submit to them. So you're
getting а rare opportunity here. See? No conceoled weapons. In New York, bodyguarding’s
best held a contest to find the number-one female protector. Pam won hands down. 17

118

“In California, you can get caught shoplifting hun-
dreds of times and only have to pay a fine,”
Roberta says, though shoplifting laws are the least
of her problems. “I’ve had guns and knives pulled
оп me, but the worst was опе man I gave too much
of ahead start. He got in his car and rolled up the
windows. So | was bangin’ on the door, showing
him my badge, and he bocked up and started
chasing me—in his cor—all over the porking lot.
Finally, | dived between two cars and he drove
away. | got his license-plate number, and a little
later, the police caught up with him.” But for a
moment there, as here, Roberta was fit to be tied.

PLAYBOY

SNOW GODS

(continued from page 110)

“In World Cup races, you get the best in the world
and only the best, but in the Olympics. . . ^?

The other side of the coin. Both are slalom
ists, but how will they do in the
11?

Harti Weirather? Heads begin to nod.
Sure, why not? He almost did it in '81.
Weirather, he's just the boy who could do
it this year.

"The visiting American is asked what he
thinks, but he is understandably reluctant
10 give his opinion. He is the only foreign-
er present—indeed, the only person from
outside the precincts of the Arlberg—and
the weight of skiing history is in this room.
Karl Schranz, Austria’s national hero, is
waiting to hear what he has to say. Mrs.
Franz Fahrner, whose father, Hannes
Schneider, was also the father of Alpine
skiing, is looking at him speculatively.
Down the table, Rudi Matt, who won the
world championship in slalom back in
1936, cocks an eyebrow, waiting. The visi-
tor clears his throat nervously.

Phil Mahre. He says it softly and reluc-
tantly.

A lot of frowns and shaking heads,
waggling fingers and tongues clucking in
disapproval. No, not this year, not again.
A magnificent slalom skier, of course, but
too weak in the downhill. It’s going to take
more than his usual 13th- or 14th-place
finish, plus a good slalom, to win this
weekend. Why, even the bookmakers—
yes, Virginia, in Austria they bet on ski
races—have Phil at 20 to one. Besides,
he’s had a bad year so far. No, no, forget
what happened in 1981. On a good day,
even the Tokyo Giants could. . . .

Phil Mahre. He repeats the name more
confidently, because he knows something
they don't know. They weren't out at the
mountain the day before, when the first
training run was called off because of poor
lity. That left the racers free to ski on
their own, and his Austrian friends did not
see Phil come down the downhill course
and take off from the forbidding Kangaroo
Jump to do а 360-degree turn in mid-air
out of sheer exuberance. À stunt, a gag,
but it means that he's relaxed, at one with
the mountain. The visitor makes three
pronouncements, each firm and distinct:

Phil Mahre will place within the top
five in the downhill tomorrow.

Someone named Mahre will win the
slalom on Sunday.

Phil Mahre will win the Arlberg-Kan-
dahar combined.

"Then he retreats behind his glass of
wine as the arguments rage.

The people of Sarajevo wish the world
would forget that World War One started

there. They figure that it’s a bum rap to
hang on a town, and they’ve been fighting,
it for years. They'll tell you that the assas-
sination of the Archduke Francis Fer
nand was only one of the factors that
triggered the war and that if Gavrilo Prin-
cip hadn't Killed him, something else
would have sparked the flames just as
easily. Not that they are shy about the
assassination. Yesterday's terrorist is to-
morrow’s freedom fighter, and so today
there is a Gavrilo Princip Museum in
town, and on the street where he stood to
fire the shots are his footprints set in con-
crete, like a Bosnian version of Grauman’s
Chinese Theater. Still, they wish the
world would forget, and they hope that the
XIV Winter Olympiad will give another
meaning to the name Sarajevo.

To that end, they have spruced up the
town. New hotels have been built in the
mountains, present facilities have been
remodeled and the picturesque aspects of
Sarajevo—the mosques and the minarets,
the market places, the arching bridges
over the Miljacka River—have been high-
lighted. During the Olympic weeks, artists
from all over Yugoslavia will perform,
including opera companies, theatrical
troupes and local folk-music groups; while
for filmgoers, there will be a reprise of the
Belgrade International Film Festival in
Sarajevo’s 11 cinemas. An all-out effort
has been made to coat this essentially pro-
vincial place with at least a thin veneer of
Western amenities, and as the ultimate
gesture in a city where the second lan-
guage, if any, is German, the taxi drivers,
porters, waiters and desk clerks have all
been given a crash course in basic English
to help them deal with the influx of 45,000
foreigners expected in February. It sounds
good, but doubts begin to arise when you
ask where all those people are going to
sleep.

The 10,000 athletes, judges and offi-
cials will be housed in the Olympic Vil-
lage. Good.

"The 5000 journalists will be housed in
a special block of houses. Good.

"The 30,000 spectators will be accom-
modated in hotels and private homes.

Good—1 think. How many hotel beds
will be available?

Fifteen thousand.

"That's when the doubt strikes home. A
solid 50 percent of the total, 15,000
people, put up in private homes? What
happens if Aunt Millie gets sick and the
bed isn't available? What happens if Un-
cle Boris dies and the household goes into
mourning? What happens if Grandpa

comes for dinner and stays for a week?
What happens to all those beds?

The answer to all those questions is
always nema problema, which can be tak-
єп to mean anything from “No problem”
to “God will find a way” to “I prefer to
think of myself as an optimist.”

‘They may be right. It’s better than
worrying about it.

It has to be remembered that Sarajevo is
not a ski town; it is a multicultural city,
mostly Moslem in population, with moun-
tains attached. Also attached is a modern
industrial complex that provides the area
with a cap of smog so thick that at times
you cannot see the mountains from the
town or the town from the mountains.
Still, once above the smog line, the air is
fine and clear and the mountains are of
Olympic, if not quite World Cup, stand-
ards. The difference is important and
deserves explanation. In almost every oth-
er sport, the Olympic standard is the high-
est, but not in Alpine skiing, where the
measure of excellence is a World Cup
moun:

аруз уса want
an extremely difficult downhill course,"
says Al Greenberg of Skiing. “You see,
you've got too many racers going on that
course who aren’t of world-class quality.
In World Cup races, you get the best in
the world and only the best, but in the
Olympics, every nation gets to enter four
people. You have skiers racing from places
like Korea and China and Iran, people
who have never been on a World Cup
course in their lives. Tt would be unfair to
them and dangerous, too.”

So Bjelasnica qualifies as an Olympic

mountain, but it took some hard work and
an ingenious contrivance to get it into that
category. The Olympic rules say that a
downhill course must have a vertical drop,
as distinguished from the over-all length,
of at least 800 meters. When the Inter-
al Olympic Committee measured
Bjelasnica, it came up nine meters short
and left it to the local organizers to provide
a solution. In simplicity, the answer was
worthy of Jimmy Durante, who once said,
“Don’t raise the bridge, men, lower the
river.” The organizers built a four-story
restaurant on the very peak of the moun-
tain, and its rooftop beer terrace is the
starting ramp for the downhill run, with
the skier descending a chute through the
ing area and out onto the course.
"We were able to add nine more meters
to the descent that way,” says Drago Boz-
ja, the sports director of the committee,
and the result is the most unusual starting
gate in ski racing.

Doug Powell confesses, “When I made
my start, I was afraid I was going to hook
somebody’s beer stein with my ski tip.”

You never know when а story is going
to turn on its tail and smack you in the
(continued on page 146)

“But I thought you told me when I had visitors to leave my door open... ."

121

20 QUESTIONS: SHELLEY LONG

america's cheeriest sweetheart describes the dangers of hollywood,
the rewards for nice girls and the need for bedside toys

R^ Crane had lunch with the effer-
vescent Shelley Long at Michaels in
Los Angeles. He reports, "Shelley is so
cute, so sweet that I figured it must be a
facade, that there was a dark side to her
waiting to get out. Her collegiate good
looks and enthusiasm about everything
make me long for the Fifties—when lunch
was а lot cheaper.”

PLAYBOY: What do you think of women
who go all the way on the first date?
LONG: Well, I love to travel, so far be it
from me to judge anyone's traveling
choices. Liye in the moment. That allows
you to make a decision based on how you
feel. Having a passport doesn't hurt,
either.

vrAvBoy: Do nice girls finish last?

токо: Are there any nice girls left? If
nice means you're always worried about
the other person more than yourself,
you're going to be in big trouble. If it
means that you have compassion and some
sense of priorities, you're going to do fine.

PLAYBOY: People do crazy things in college.
What is something crazy you did that,
perhaps, your parents never knew about?
LONG: I was artistically spontaneous, in
the sense that I would talk to mailboxes.
That came out of being in love. I once
serenaded the people who were sitting in
the lobby of the Palmer House hotel in
Chicago. It came out of a real free spirit. I
stood on the balcony of the mezzanine of
the Palmer House, and the man that I was
with at that time was sitting in the lobby
and he was trying to hide under a newspa-
per, pretending not to know who I was.
Somebody tapped me on the shoulder, and
I turned around and it was Dick Shawn,
and he said, "Are you a singer?" I said,
“Sometimes.” He said, “I’m doing a show
here at the Empire Room. Would you like
to come and see my show?" I said, “You
see that guy who's hiding under the news-
papers down there? Pm with him.” He
said, "Great. Bring him along. Come to
my show." We did, and he came over to
our table afterward and gave me some
advice. I’ve always respected him.

PLAYBOY: Since you've moved to Los An-
geles, do you tell the truth as much as you
did before?

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVID MECEY

LoNc: More than ever, because people find
it so hard to believe. I enjoy shocking peo-
ple. When your life is very rich, there's no
need to avoid the truth. It's as though I
have this basket of goodies and it's all
truth. I don't necessarily show the whole.
basket, but it’s all there and it's real to
me.

PLAYBOY: What is the dirtiest thought you
can conjure up?

LONG: That everyone sitting in this restau-
rant is really nude. The dirtiest thought
that I can think of is the stack of laundry
sitting at home. “Dirty” doesn’t apply
anymore. Isn’t it nice that it’s OK for a
man and a woman to enjoy each other
physically and emotionally? It doesn't
have to be dirty anymore. It’s just good
lovin’.

PLAYBOY: What are the dirtiest words
you've ever whispered into a man's ear?
Lonc: “Get off my foot.”

PLAYBOY: What was the most compromis-
ing situation you were ever in?

LONG: I made a hasty exit from one man’s
apartment and, in seeking refuge, inadver-
tently ran into the apartment of another
man—whom I knew. They were friends,
and I didn’t want to create any more havoc
than had already been created. I just
wanted to get out of the building. 1
remember thinking, How did this
happen?

PLAYBOY: When you do a romantic scene,
how do you prepare for it?

Lonc: I bathe, and I’m usually very glad I
did. I put some perfume on, because it
makes me feel nice. I make it a rule to
brush my teeth after every meal. You
become as fastidious as you are in the ear-
ly part of your courtship. You always
floss. When you do a love scene, you do
the same thing you do in other scenes: You
let the character and the moment take
over. Sometimes, it's surprising what can
happen.

PLAYBOY: Who is more apt to initiate sex,
the Midwestern or the West Coast man?
LoNc: Oh, they're going to kill me, but 1

think Midwestern men are hornier. Or
maybe West Coast men are a little more
comfortable with women's being the
initiators.

10.

PLAYBOY: What can a guy do to make a
good girl go bad?

Lonc: How does а guy get into а girl's
pants? Is that what we're asking here? Pm
a firm believer in two things: I like men to
be men and I like them to care about me
and to take care of me. I’m willing to let
them do that. If a man wants to be a part
of a lady's life, he needs to come on strong
and come on caring and be prepared. The
other part of that is beyond a man's or a
woman's control. If something really spe-
cial is going to happen, it's a product of
who that man is and who that woman is.
It’s not going to be forced or fabricated. If
that chemistry is there, you don’t have to
do anything—just let it happen.

11.

PLAYBOY: Nice girls do. Does that attitude
detract from the notion that sex is filthy
and disgusting?

LONG: Are you implying that that's an ele-
ment that needs to be preserved? You
know, it's all there. If you feel the necessi-
ty for something to be naughty and dis-
gusting, I’m sure there's someone who'll
convince you that it is—probably someone
in Los Angeles.

123

PLAYBOY: If we opened a drawer by your
bed, would we be surprised by what we
found?

Lonc: I don't think so. Maybe. I keep а
note pad by my bed. I write down my
dreams. My unconscious knows more
about what's going on with me than my
conscious. We take a journey every night.
The note pad is a passport back. I also
have candles and a couple of toys. I won't
describe them. I think we all need toys. I
also keep Chap Stick in my drawer.

13.

PLAYBOY: You've read Valley of the Dolls.
Can a sweet girl from a nice home find
happiness in Tinseltown?

Lonc: Yes. She has to learn a few things,
though, along the way. Always keep the
door open. Closed office doors are a real
temptation. I used to laugh about that, but
Igotcaught (concluded on page 162)

123

124

THE
YEAR
IN SEX

here we аге again with our
annual roundup of frolicking flesh.
in 1983, a lot of the action was
on screens: video, movie
and computer-terminal. of course,
congress didn't disappoint
us, either

“OUT, DAMNED SPOT: Out, I say!" Lady Macbeth
used to shout on the day she cleaned the sheets.
"There was no Wisk in the Middle Ages. Today,
detergents can take care of even the most dif-
ficult wet spots with no wringing of hands, but
sex is just as much in evidence as ever. Of
course, there are always reactionaries trying to
repress it. The ones who try hardest, however,
often seem to have the very reactions they
Scream about most (viz., Springfield, Ohio's,
city manager Thomas Bay—the man who in
1982 suspended policewoman Barbara Schantz
for posing for PLAYBOY—who this past October
had to resign his job after having been picked
up for allegedly soliciting a prostitute. And
Representative Dan Crane, who had portrayed
himself in three successful Congressional cam-
paigns as an ultraconservative Christian family
man, was censured by the House for making it
with a teenaged page). In 1983, onc kind of rc-
pression even had a hand in spawning a new
forum for libidinous art. Music videos, which
everyone should know about by now, began as
intra-industry promos for musical groups; some
acts, most notably Britain’s Duran Duran, first
attracted U.S. attention through video rather
than records or live performances. MTV
picked up those tuneful ads and ran with
them—24 hours a day. That's the good news.
The bad news is that MTV moguls still makea
habit of clipping out the most fun, most reveal-
ing—we may as well come right out and say
it—most arousing parts of the tapes they beam
to Anytown. That practice led to a new cable
show on our own Playboy Channel, Hot Rocks,
which earns its name each week with videos
that are too hot for MTV’s wires. We'll show
you a few of those cuts here, as well as a lot of
other frolic from 1983. Enough preface, though.
“One, two—why, then 't is time to do 't," said
Macheth’s lady once, disdaining extended fore-
play. “You mar all with this starting.”

VIDEO DISPLAYS:

PLAYING WITH?

JOY STICK NOT INCLUDED: All those ads on TV urge you to buy a com-
puter to further Junior's education, but you didn't think that was all a console
was for, did you? Neither do the makers of such strictly for-adults programs
as Bedtime Stories I, an offering for $24.95 from Computer Products Inter-
national, Metairie, Louisiana. Strip poker and other games are available.

BYTE ME, BABY,
BYTE ME: If you'd
rather do it yourself,
you can always “reach
out and access some-
one, as Teresa Car-
penter put it in The
Village Voice. Computer
networking may turn
out to be the late-20th
Century equivalent of
the love letter. Wonder
how Byron's sonnets
would sound in BASIC.

DOES YOUR SET HAVE RAB-
BIT EARS? That's Rabbit with a
capital R, and nearly 750,000 are
lured to The Playboy Channel by
such fare as Shake It Sexy (below).

1 DREAMED I WENT ON TV IN MY....
It's not Maidenform, it's Berlei lingerie,
bra and bikini, the lady's fooling around
with above in what was billed as Amer-
ica's first nude commercial, shown
across the land on cable television.

BEATS THE HELL OUT OF CHIN-UPS: We've been seeing a
lot of Kitten Natividad lately, which only proves once again that
Russ Meyer, who introduced her in Up! back in 1976, really knows
how to pick 'em. Below, an invigorating routine from her new
video cassette, Eroticise, a barer (and more buxom) version of the
shape-'em-up stuft Jane Fonda does. That's Kitten in the inset.

EASY, RYDER: Putting up a good front
in Mitch Ryder's video When You Were
Mine (below) is (you guessed it) Kitten

Natividad. A few frames later, cops stage
a raid. Now, that's what we call a bust.

NOW YOU SEE IT, THEN YOU DIDN'T: Cable television's MTV
runs music videos 24 hours a day, but what you see isn't all MTV
got. Among those scissored were David Bowie's China Girl
(above left), Duran Duran's The Chauffeur (above right), Peter
Godwin's Images of Heaven (below left), Duran Duran's Girls on
Film (below right). You did see some on Playboy's Hot Rocks.

KEEPING WARM IN LAP
LAND: Lap dancing, as
practiced above by G. B.
and Dee Dee at Thee Doll
House, has been banned
down in Orlando, Florida.

NEWS FLASH: Variety's
Jim Harwood ribbed the
Beverly Hilton for booking
a Ms. Nude International
press conference (above).

BUT IS IT ART?

IT CAME FROM OUTER
SPACE: Actually, the artifact be-
from The Dildo
Show at Chicago's W.P.A. Gal-
lery, run by some feminists who
noted that "National Geo shows
а lot more tits than cocks."

low is an exhibi

ROLL ME OVER,
LAY ME DOWN AND
PRINT ME AGAIN:
Body painting with a
difference (right) was
showcased by Dixie
Gay at Manhattan's
Erotics Gallery. Sure
beats linoleum blocks.

WE MUST STOP MEETING LIKE THIS:

NUCLEAR FRIEZE: Art for
disarmament's sake bursts

EVERYBODY INTO THE
POOL: No more coming
clean at The Club, a.ka.
Nero's Nook, in Fremont,
California (below). Police
closed the swingers’ spa.

COVERING YOUR
ASS: Try Temptu,
the paint-on system,
for temporary der-
rière decor (above).

FEET-OF-CLAY DIVISION:

‘TURNING OVER A NEW PAGE IN WASHINGTON: There was fire behind
the smoke of those rumors of Congressional high-jinks we reported last year,
after all. Representative Dan Crane of Illinois (above left) admitted to having
consorted with a 17-year-old female page back in 1980, while Representative
Gerry Studds of Massachusetts (below left) admitted his homosexuality
while confessing to a 1973 affair with a male page, also 17. 1з that what they
mean by D.C.? The scandal gave cartoonists a field day; see above right.

SOME DAY THEIR
PRINTS WILL COME:
Caught in an investiga-
tion of obscenity and
child porn were a priest
and a minister who had
mailed some sex photos
for developing (right).

STRIPPED GERE: Actor
Richard Gere got himself
ticketed for urinating in а
Greenwich Village street.

HOLY SMOKE:

GOLD STANDARD
LOWERED: Charged
with raping a D.A.'s
daughter, ten, ex-
Brooklyn D.A. Eugene
Gold (below) pleaded
guilty to fondling.

ON RAPE RAP

YOUR TAX DOLLARS

AT PLAY: Government
employees in Virginia
made 2509 calls last
March, at state expense,
to High Society's heavy-
breathing phone number.

a "Gay Plague,"

ing a cross for

z xen Manhattan filming,
Priest, minister part of probe BIS AP Eh
FBI pornography investigation swept nation stein was busted,
with artist René

"Lips" Moncada and

two crewmen,

RYAN GOES PUBIC: Ladies who looked
carefully (and they did. they did) saw a fringe
of the fuzz Farrah Fawcett loves to touch
— оп this oh-so-cuddly People cover (left).

NO-PANTY SHIELDS: An appeals court
ruled that Brooke Shields can't rescind per-
mission her mom gave for these photos. taken
by Gary Gross when Brookie was only ten.

MINISTRY OF FEA!
Falwell's Moral Majority Report, in a scare
campaign focused on AIDS, which it labeled

RUDE ROOD: Bar-

for
trespassing and dis-
turbing the peace.
Judge let ‘em off.

SHE KNOWS HOW
TO LOVE HIM: From
Kellie Everts, our favor-
ite Stripper for Christ

Њоме): a book of say-
ings by the Virgin Mary.

MIRA MAT AOR

The Reverend Jerry

implied that 97 percent

of male homosexuals get diseases from
eating shit. We find that hard to swallow.

LYON’S SHARE: The
noted bodybuilder left her
leotard behind for some
photos in her book Lisa
Lyon's Body Magic (below).

BLOW JOBS: LET IT ALL HANG OUT:

BETTE MAKES A BOOB OF HERSELF: RIIS'S PIECES: When New York
Back on the road with the Harlettes (below), State lawmakers banned nude sun-
Bette Midler shows the divine effects of infla- bathing, protesters assembling in
tion on the stage of Radio City Music Hall. Riis Park (right) were arrested.
Bette was never underendowed, but News: Feds say they're “looking closely”
week reported her shape “better than ever." at the case. We're not surprised.

BRITONS NEVER, NEVER, NEVER
SHALL BE SLAVES TO FASHION:
English designers Patty Bell (left) and
Jane Khan (right) join model Sue in.
displaying their outlandish creations,
on sale in London and Birmingham.

THIS PROTEST
ALOT OF HOT
All lant femi-

nists picketing the
Ms. Nude America STRICTLY FROM HUNGARY:

pageant, featuring Bourgeois decadence? That's how
30 unclad contest- =з authorities view this nudist camp
ants in San Jose's 1 outside Budapest (above), bul
Center for the efforts to close it have flopped.
Performing Arts,
dubbed this dui

my (right) Miss
Congeniality. Fun-
ny—wed say she
is bubble-headed.

BARING WITNESS: It
would have been a bum
rap if this defendant in
en entinudily trial in
Clearwater, Florida (left),
had been convicted, but

AMERICA'S CUPS, TEXAS STYLE: The the cese was thrown out.

Vulgar Boatmen, the crazy Texans below—
orice and spirits buoyed by inflatable party

couldn't decide whether to call their
fae n devices pontangs or poontoons.

HOW YA GONNA KEEP
'EM DOWN ON THE
FARM AFTER THEY'VE
SEEN MISS NUDE
PARIS? Nathalie (below)
is 19 and wants to be the
French Marilyn Monroe.

SOMEBODY GIVE
THIS GUY A HAND:
Rock superstar David
Bowie obviously has
a leg up on the com-
petition, which doesn't
surprise us at all,
given the fact that he
had a hot video, a sell-
out concert tour and
even a couple of
movies going for him
in 1983. Some fellows
have all the tuck, if not
necessarily all the body.

THE MARVELS OF MEDICINE: EAT ME, PLEASE:

CARAMEL PORN: Cracker Jack's
makers assured the public, after a
| MOTTS | West Virginia tot found a book on
sexual positions in her box, that it
100% PURE couldn't happen again. But it did,

in California, eight months later.
IPPLE JUICE z

YOU CAN'T SMOKE
AFTERWARD, EITHER:
This unabashed rip-off of
the Smokenders program
(below) offers more than
50 ways to lose a lover
(e.g. rub the D spot to
make the ear ejaculate).

Г оу

RUUTURALe NO SUGAR ИР.

v L

COMPLETE | о "

HARD CORE: Artist
René Moncada, who
admittedly has an eye for
labia, found more in an
apple-juice label than the
manufacturer intended,

made a poster of it and
put it in a show.

BUDDY, CAN YOU SPARE
A LITTLE CHANGE? East-
ern pilot Karen (né Kenneth)
Ulane was fired but Bonnie
Nora (once Ormus) Daven- Ет
port is still on the beat in mnia ient tape int
D.C. affer sexchange surgery. У Hotter

For Тоза Who Should Qut ha Cast
Beak ett

DON'T DO ANYTHING
RASH: Where else but in
the alternative newspa-
per the L.A. Reader
would an ad like the one
at left appear? And will
the fact that females are
charged half price for the
service inspire still more
sex-change operations?
Stay tuned, or call
213-545-4042 Monday
through Friday, 12 to
eight pm; Saturdays
from ten to two

WE'LL HAVE ONE OF
THE DANISH PAS-
TRIES: Andrea Williams
(right) is a semitopless
waitress at Fat Daddy's
in Thornton, Colorado.

SPORTING GOODIES:

THIS GUY SHOULD HAVE LITTLE
TROUBLE GETTING TO FIRST
BASE: You never know what will, er,
stand out at San Diego's infamous
annual World Championship Over-
the-Line Tournament (right), an event
at which just about anything goes.

t es
WHICH ONE’S THE
COCKSWAIN? The
folks at left are prac-
ticing a sport called
canuding, increasing-
ly popular with natur-
ists, in New Jersey's
Delaware Water Gap.

YOU'LL JUST FEEL A TROJAN WAR: Marchers
LITTLE PRICK: When іп San Francisco's Gay
Elysium Institute, a cloth- Pride Parade (below) dis-
ing-optional center in tributed 100,000 condoms
Topanga, California, staged to combat the spread of
@ blood drive (above), we AIDS. Note the directions
were there to, ah, cover it. for use on the envelope.

THESE GUYS TAKE A BACK SEAT TO NOBODY: in 1982,
participants in the Fourth Annual White Water Wilderness
Canoe trip down Texas’ Guadalupe River sent us a shot like
this. We didn't run it. Next time, 97 posed. Determination pays.

YURINALYSIS: Two-time Pulitzer Prize—
winning cartoonist Paul Szep was sus-
pended without pay for two weeks after

MUSIC, MAESTRO:

PETIT MAL: Nudity
in choreographer Ro-
land Petit's Proust, as

presented by the tour-
ing National Ballet
of Marseilles (right),
inspired Guy Jaron,
a Montreal politician
and theater official,
to stand up and boo
the show, though
staged in his own
theater complex.

the sketch below appeared in The
Boston Globe. Seems the alktoo-

realistic dialog supplied by a fellow
staffer for the mouth of Soviet leader

|
ANEW MX MISSILE |
SYSTEM To HELP ARMS |

OPERA BUFFS: In Mem-
phis, protesters seeking
equity for topless bars
bared breasts (above)
during a nude scene in
the Metropolitan Opera's
production of Macbeth.

ONLY HIS HAIRDRESS-
ER KNOWS: Half the fun
of watching Les Cagelles
(right) in Broadway's hit
musical La Cage aux
Folles was guessing
which two were real girls.

COMING AT A THEATER NEAR YOU:

NEW TWISTS ON THE OLD IN 'N*
OUT: Enterprising producers for the
adult-film market were not idle during the
year. They brought forth Puss 'n Boots, a
horny version of Private Benjamin (left);
the long-awaited The Devil in Miss Jones
Part Il, with Jack Wrangler and Georgina
Spelvin (below left); In Love, released in
versions ranging from hard-core to R,
inThe

new late-night cult hit Café Flesh (right),
about sex in the
postnuclear age,
wherein those who
can't enjoy making
love arereduced to
watching those
who can perform
in a bizarre
sort of cabaret.

JOURNEY

PLAYBOY

(319822.
ETS DANE

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THE CUTE WOMEN FROM THE LEAVING THE BAR FULL OF BEAUTIFUL
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PLAYBOY

ALL-AMERICAN

(continued from page 54)

«Га think my head was going to explode. I had to
relieve the pressure, and I did it by gambling.”

agreed with his philosophy, and he didn’t
seem to be interested in mine. We never
threw. Oh, we threw a lot by Ohio State
standards—almost 17 passes a game. But
I wanted to throw 30 to 35 times a game,
so by my standards, we never threw.

Still, Earle’s first season, my sophomore
season, was the best one I had at Ohio
State. After our first few games, I was
leading the nation in passing. An Ohio
State quarterback leading the nation in
passing. That happens about as often as
the top running back comes from Har-
vard. Or from a girls’ school.

We won our first 11 games, then went
to the Rose Bowl and played a Southern
California team that was the best college
team I ever saw: two Heisman Trophy
winners in the backfield—Charles White
and Marcus Allen—and giants in the line.
Fast, strong, tough giants. I never saw so
much talent. Yet we were six points ahead
with less than two minutes to play. Pd
passed for almost 300 yards. Then
Charles White scored, and they kicked the
extra point and beat us by one. We would
have been national champions if we'd
won.

I was pretty well shielded from the
press during the regular season, and when
I did talk, what could I say? When you're
winning, you don't complain, you don't
rock the boat. Besides, I was being treated
like some god. I was making all the right
kinds of humble noises, bullshitting every-
body—I should've been all-American in
bullshiting—but I was almost ready
to believe that stuff myself. 105 a weird
feeling. Everybody's telling you you're
great and you want to believe it, and you
do, up to a point. But somewhere inside,
you're scared. You're afraid people are
going to find out the truth: You're not
really great, you're not even good
enough.

Between my sophomore and junior sea-
sons, the media barrage was unbelievable.
Reporters came from all over the country
to interview me. They came down to the
farm, and my mother would feed them
and my father would talk to them and Га
sit on the tractor, posing for pictures and
saying all the right things.

I was getting incredible anxiety attacks.
I wouldn't be able to concentrate on any-
thing. Га have headaches. Га think my
head was going to explode. I had to relieve
the pressure, and I did it by gambling. At
first, it was just the race track, usually
Scioto Downs, harness racing, just outside

Columbus. T'd started going to the track
when I was in high school. One of my best
friends’ fathers trained harness horses,
and I loved being around the track. I
started betting. Nothing serious. Two
dollars. Five dollars. No problem. I had
money. My father's farm was thriv-
ing, soybeans were booming and Pd saved
some of the prize money from the Four-H
steers I used to take to the fair.

Out at the track, I felt like a normal
person. I could sit in a corner and eat a hot
dog and drink a Coke and giggle and I
wasn’t a big football player, I was just
another horse player. That was where I
relaxed, where I got away from the bull-
shit. I took two of my teammates to the
track the day before the Michigan game
my sophomore season and we won $1500.
Pretty good for college kids. I took it in
stride. I didn’t get excited. I impressed the
other guys.

Everybody knew 1 went to the track. It
was no secret. Coach Bruce used to go, too.
He'd see me there. My gambling was even
mentioned in Straight Arrow: “ “I like to
bet, sure,’ he says to those who inquire
about his enjoyment of a sport at which
gambling is legal."

What it didn't say in the book was that
onc of the reasons 1 was gambling was
that I wasn't studying, I wasn't trying to
learn. I didn’t go to a lot of my classes, and
when I did go, I was thinking about foot-
ball and about girls. I wasn't really there.
I cheated in school—and I cheated myself.
Some straight arrow. I knew it was
wrong. I was already on a serious guilt
tri

1 wasn't participating in college life. I
didn't even live in the dormitory room I
was assigned. Most of the football players
lived in one of two dorms, but I couldn't
stay there. Girls would be knocking on the
door at all hours. I had no privacy. I got a
nice apartment in Arlington, not far from
the campus. I wasn't supposed to be living
there, but I didn't care. The rules weren't
for me. I was special.

I went with one girl, a cheerleader,
most of my last three years at Ohio State.
She knew I could go out with just about
any girl I wanted, and that made it tough
on her and easy on me. I cheated and I lied
and, probably worst of all, I never let her
know me, never let her get close enough to
know me. We went out for three years,
and she never knew me. I was unfair to
her.

One time, we went out to the race track,
and I had a tip on a horse, a five-to-one
shot, and I gave her $400 to bet for me,
$400 to win on the number-six horse. I

didn’t want people to see me place the bet,
because they might think I knew some-
thing and that might drive the price
down. So she went up to the window
where we always bet, and she told the
seller, “Art wants me to put $400 on num-
ber six to win.” The seller, who knew us
pretty well, said, “The six doesn’t have a
chance. The four can't lose.” He talked
her into changing the bet. She put the
whole $400 on the four horse. Then the
race went off, and they came to the stretch
neck and neck, the four and the six. I
wasn’t showing any emotion, of course,
but inside, I was screaming for the
They ended up in a photo finish, and the
six horse won. My girlfriend started cry-
ing. "What's the matter?” I said.

Т can’t tell you,” she said.

“Tell me.”

She did. I was out $2400. I just wanted
to throw her out of the stands. It wasn't
the money. It was the idea.

My junior year, I started betting on
other sports—with a bookmaker. I didn't
bet with the bookie myself, but 1 had a
friend, and we'd make our selections and
he'd place the bets. I never bet on an Ohio
State game. I was dumb, but I wasn't that
dumb. One time, some creep out at the
race track came up to me and asked me
about shaving points, about winning by
less than the spread, and I went right to
the coaches and then to the FBI, and they
looked into the matter, and nothing ever
happened. I guess the guy wasn’t serious,
but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

I was betting basketball, college and
pro, and Monday Night Football things
I could watch on TV. I didn't study, so I
had all these nights with nothing to do but
watch games on television. It made it more
fun if I had a bet going. I wasn’t a big
bettor in college, but a couple of times, my
parents had to bail me out. I was down
$3000 one time, I think, maybe $5000
another. My parents were real upset. I
told them Га never bet again, I had
learned my lesson. I lied up and down.

Maybe it was coincidence, maybe not,
but I wasn’t doing a whole lot better on
the football field. The second game of my
junior year, against Minnesota, after the
big publicity build-up all summer, I
passed only 11 times. It wasn’t my choice.
The coaches called all the plays, rotating
guards and wide receivers to send in the
plays. I was allowed to call audibles if I
saw something in the defense, but only run
audibles, not passes, except for one short-
pass play. In the locker room after the
Minnesota game, all the reporters were
asking, “What do you think? Why aren't
you throwing more, Art? Does it bother
you?”

I lied. “Whatever Coach wants,” I said.
“Pm behind him 100 percent. All we want
to do is win. That's all that matters.”

Inside, it was just tearing me up. 1
walked out of the locker room, went over
to my father and said, “Dad, I’m leaving,

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health.

aM. 7

PLAYBOY

this is it. I'm going somewhere else."

Then our quarterback coach, Fred Zech-
man, who had been my high school coach at
Miami Trace, talked me into staying at
Ohio State for one more game. They let me
throw the next week against Washington
State, and I hit for 270 yards and three
touchdowns, and I said, “OK, ГЇЇ stay.”
Then, the following week, UCLA just beat
the shit out of us. I got sacked about eight
times. I got knocked out. And from then on,
the whole thing at Ohio State was miserable.
I would have given anything to win the
Heisman Trophy, but I didn’t even come
close.

The summer between my junior and
senior ycars, I went on tour with five or
six other college players, visiting cities
around the country, promoting college
football and the N.C.A.A. and ABC
Sports. One of the others was Jim
McMahon, the quarterback from Brig-
ham Young. I hated him before I even met
him, because he got to throw 35, 40 times
every game. The other guys seemed to like
the tour. McMahon, for instance, hadn't.
had that much exposure, and he loved it. I
hated the whole thing. Га had too much
exposure already.

‘The day the tour ended, I couldn’t wait
to get home. The air controllers’ strike
was on, and I started home from the West
Coast in the morning, went through Dal-
las, spent three or four hours sitting on the
ground there, finally got to Columbus in
the middle of the night. My girlfriend was
waiting at the airport, but I couldn’t find
her, and I was so pissed off, all I wanted to
do was get home, get into a pair of shorts,
ро down to the rec room and just breathe. I
drove off from the airport at about 85
miles an hour and I got caught, got а
for speeding, and that speeding ticket
ended up in headlines for weeks—because

I got let off pretty easily.

Some people acted like I was a murder-
er, like I deserved capital punishment or
worse. And some others seemed to think I
should be allowed to speed, because I was
so special. That was the funny thing:
Nobody ever felt neutral about me. People
hated me or loved me, and it didn't make
any difference that none of them really
knew me, because they all prejudged me.

We lost three games my junior year and
three more my senior year, terrible years
by Ohio State standards. The last season,
against Florida State, I had the kind of
game Га always dreamed of having. I
threw 52 passes and completed 31 of them
for 458 yards. It would have been great
except that we lost the game, and I was
passing so much largely because | was
playing on a twisted ankle that hurt too
much for me to run the option.

I had some hellacicus statistics at Ohio
State, but I never knew if the coaches
respected me. They showed me no sense of
security, no sense of gratitude, nothing.
And I just lied all the time. I said I was
proud to be there, proud to be at Ohio
State. “Are you frustrated because you
don’t throw more?” reporters would al-
ways ask. Oh, no, not me. I never said a
bad word about Earle. And I was so pissed
off, I'd go home and scream at the top of
my lungs, and Id cry, but nothing did any
good. I was miserable. I escaped the only
way I knew how: by going to the race
track. Gambling. Doing it to spite people,
to spite everybody.

I was surprised when I was picked so
high in the N.F.L. draft, when Baltimore
made me the fourth choice. I didn't think
I'd impressed many people in the post-
season games. My arm was tired then, and
I was disgusted. I felt I hadn't really

“I don't mind the role reversals, but now she
wants me to fake orgasms!”

accomplished anything in my four years at
Ohio State. I was all screwed up inside-

When it came time to go to training
camp, I was in bad shape, physically and
emotionally. I had lost the will power to
work out, and I had broken up with my
girlfriend. She had given up on me. I felt
hurt. I felt as if I were being made fun of.
Thad it coming, but I couldn’t take it.

Breaking up was painful but not so
painful as quitting gambling. I kicked it
cold turkey. I did it for my parents.
‘They'd bailed me out again, and the farm
was starting to have troubles, and so I told
them I wasn't going to bet anymore. And I
didn't for a while. Then the players went
out on strike and I went home to Colum-
bus, and I had nothing to do.

I started gambling again. It sure beat
running or throwing or doing anything
useful. For the first time, I began betting
with a bookie myself. 1 had a code num-
ber—I was 270—and I started off slowly,
$1000 here, maybe $2000 there. I lost
$10,000, $20,000. It hurt, but I could cov-
er it, and when the strike ended in
November, I went back to Baltimore.

One night, I was with a girl Pd met
who worked as a barmaid in a motel in
Baltimore. I saw her once in a while. It
was convenient. It was easy. She didn't
mean anything to me till she mentioned
one night that her ex-boyfriend used to
take bets. That got me more excited than
anything else she could have done.

His name was Sonny. Could she get in
touch with him? Could she get a bet
down? She could. I started betting in Bal-
timore through her. She’d call Sonny, get
the line, call me with the line, I'd make my
selections and get back to her. I took good
care of her for helping me. Then I found
out she was cheating me. I was $300
ahead and I lost $800 one night, betting
through her; and the next night I couldn’t
reach her, so I called Sonny, explained
who I was and asked him what my figure
was. I wanted to know how I stood. He
told me I was up $300. She hadn’t placed
the bet the night before. If I had won, she
would’ve told me she couldn’t get the bet
down, but since I lost, she was going to
pocket the $800 herself. She was going to
tell me that I was down $500 and then
take that $500 from me, plus the $300
from Sonny.

I started betting with Sonny directly.
My code name was Fred. I was betting
college and pro basketball and Monday
Night Football, and for a while, I was
picking them pretty good. I wasn't playing
much football for the Colts, and the gam-
bling began to control me. It was all I
could think about. I couldn’t concentrate
on anything except the next bet. I spent so
much time on the phone in our locker
room that my teammates, for a gag, moved
all my gear into the phone booth one day.
They thought it was very funny. They
thought I was calling girls all over the
country. They didn’t have the slightest
idea I was calling a bookmaker. It’s not

the sort of vice you share with teammates.
Drugs, alcohol, those are social vices; but
not gambling. Nobody can know about
that. It’s got to be your own private hell.

I dreaded practicing, I dreaded going to
meetings. At the meetings, the Colts gave
me a new pen every day, because every
day I chewed up the one they gave me. I
ate it. The Colts thought I was just
screwed up. They didn’t know what was
wrong. The more I bet, the less I played,
and the less I played, the more I bet.
When the season finally ended and I went
home to Ohio, I hit a hot week. I was up
$120,000. I was ready to get out. ] wasn't
going to stop gambling; I just wasn't going
to bet with Sonny anymore. I was going to
move my action to Columbus. But Sonny
warned me not to stop, that the guys he
was passing the action to would be very
upset. *You better keep playing," he said,
"the same way you been playing, parlays
and round robins and everything, or these
Euysll think you took a pot shot at
them."

Sonny was bullshitting me, but it didn't
make any difference. If I hadn’t lost it
back to them, I would’ve lost it somewhere
else. The next day, I bet two N.F.L. play-
off games and lost $20,000. Then I saw
that Indiana was playing Ohio State in
basketball and Kentucky was playing
LSU, and I thought Indiana and Ken-
tucky were the two locks of the goddamn
century. I bet them in parlays and I bet
them straight, and I got drilled. One lost
outright and the other didn’t cover the
spread. I was on a roll. I lost $200,000 in
three days.

Suddenly, І owed $80,000. “Bullshit,” I
said, "I'm not paying these guys. They
weren't going to pay me.” Then Sonny got
out of the picture and the other guys
moved in. They had the phone number of
a friend of mine in Columbus—1 wasn't
going to give them the number at the
farm—and they reached him and said they
wanted to get in touch with me. I called
them and said, “Look, I can't pay you that
kind of money, and it’s bullshit the way it
happened.”

“Well, you did it,” one guy said.
"You'd have gotten your money if you'd
won.”

They started threatening me. They
were going to call my parents. ‘They were
going to call the Colts. They scared me. I
borrowed money. I paid them, and I kept
beting—crazy parlays, crazy things. I
went days without hitting a winner, and
when I had a winner, I'd parlay it with a
loser. After a while, I just said, “Screw it,
take all the chances you can, what’s the
difference? You’re buried.”

"They figured out my betting tendencies,
which didn’t take much genius, and they
began messing with the line. They knew
that in the N.B.A., I went for the big
teams—Boston, Philadelphia, L.A.—
knew I liked them to cover. I'd see in the
paper that Boston was favored by five, and
Га call Baltimore and they'd tell me that

in their line, the Celtics were favored by
cight. They knew I wouldn’t go the other
way. They knew I wouldn’t go against
Boston. Га give eight points when 1
should've only been giving five.

My losses kept getting bigger, and every
time I fell behind, which was all the time,
their threats got worse. They were going
to break my right arm, my throwing arm
"They were going to turn me in to the
N.F.L. They said they were in tight with
the N.F.L., that some of the guys in the
N.F.L. security office were gamblers
themselves. Which was bullshit. But I was
scared and dumb and sick, an unbeatable
parlay.

I was phoning in bets from my parents’
house and I didn’t want to get caught on
the phone, so Fd just tell them to read the
line to me real quick and Ра rattle back
my picks even quicker. Га thought about
them a little bit in advance—I did check
out the line in the papers—but I was past
the point of trying very hard to figure out
who would win. I’d bet anybody. I had to
have action. Sometimes, I didn’t even
write down my picks. I had to take the
bookmakers’ word on whether I won or
lost. I don’t think they lied to me. They
didn’t have to.

I wanted these guys to be my friends. I
wanted them to love me, Most of all, I
wanted them to give me credit. And they
did—to a point. But every time I got
$40,000 or $50,000 or $60,000 behind,
which was too often, they wanted their
money. I reached out, conned friends,
conned anyone I could, said I was making
important investments, big deals. I lied
better and better. Three or four times, the
guys from Baltimore flew into Columbus
and I had a friend take the money to them,
deliver it at the airport in a plain brown-
paper bag. They never counted the cash at
the airport, but they said if I was one pen-
ny short, they’d have my leg broken.

Finally, I used up every source I had,
every friend, every possibility, and I was
still down $80,000. I took one more shot to
get even—I had to bullshit the bookies to
get them to take the action—and I lost
another $70,000. I hit bottom.

I went to Gil Kirk, a Columbus busi-
nessman, a real-estate investor who'd
heard that my family was having some
cash-flow problems with the farm. He
wanted to be helpful. I told him we needed
a lot of money very badly and very quick-
ly. Instead of just giving me the money, the
way a lot of people did, Kirk tried to fig-
ure out exactly what the problem was
with the farm. And when he couldn’t put
his finger on any problem, he wasn't about.
to give me a dollar. He turned me down, I
was finished. I was desperate. I told him
the whole story. Almost the whole story. I
lied a little. I didn't tell him all the people
I owed money.

Kirk brought in a friend of his, a lawyer
named Chuck Freiburger. They were
teammates on a touch-football team, and

they said they were going to help me get
straightened out. The next time the guys.
from Baltimore flew into Columbus, Frei-
burger went out to the airport to meet
them—without any money. They were
expecting a substantial payment, some-
thing like $80,000. Chuck talked them
into giving me two weeks to come up with
the cash. But J hadn’t told him about the
money I owed the bookmaker in Colum-
bus or about the rest of the money I owed
the guys from Baltimore or about some of
the loans Га taken.

In the next week or two, I told Kirk and
Freiburger more and more of the truth,
and they realized there was no easy way
out for me. They made mc realize it, too.
"They've got you,” Kirk said. "You've got
nothing left and no prospects." The next
step might be that the bookmakers would
try to pressure me to fix a game, and that
would be one step too far. It all came
down to one thing; I had no other options:
Thad то ро to the FBI and tell them every-
thing. No more lies. No morc bullshit.

I didn’t want to welsh. No gambler
does. I wanted the bookmakers to be my
buddies, not my enemies. But I had run
out of money and friends, The bookies had
put my back to the wall. I was being
threatened. It was over.

I sat down with Tom Decker of the
FBI, and he took charge. He was involved
with a new FBI program, based in Wash-
ington, D.C., that was set up to work with
professional teams on drug- and gam-
bling-related problems. The FBI got in
touch with the N.F.L. and asked Warren
Welsh, the director of security for the
league, to meet with Decker in Columbus
on April 1, 1983.

I arranged for the guys from Baltimore
to come to Columbus the same day, April
Fools’ Day. They flew in that morning.
They thought their money would be wait-
ing for them. Instead, Decker had more
than a dozen FBI agents waiting. I was
sitting in a car outside the terminal, listen-
ing to a two-way radio that was letting us
know what was happening inside. It was
all over quickly. The security was so tight
the P.L.O. couldn’t have gotten through.
‘The agents arrested three bookmakers.
from Baltimore without the slightest trou-
ble. I watched them drive by me on the
way to the FBI headquarters in Colum-
bus, an underground office. Then I went
to the office and, scrunched down in sun-
glasses and a hat, identified the guys. I
was scared shitless—I didn't feel good
about turning anyone in—but, at the same
time, I was so relieved. I felt like an enor-
mous weight had been lifted off me.

That afternoon, Decker and I met with
Welsh in a Columbus hotel room and told
him what had happened, told him about
my involvement with the bookies in Balti-
more and Columbus. Shortly thereafter, a
decision was made to bring in another
lawyer, Jack Chester, who used to work

PLAYBOY

138

for President Nixon. A couple of weeks
later, Welsh came back to Columbus and,
with Chester and Freiburger present, took
a more formal statement from me. I
answered his questions as well as I could.
Then, in May, I went to New York with
Chester and Kirk and Freiburger to ap-
pear before Pete Rozelle, the commission-
er of the N.F.L. We met in his conference
room, and he went over the whole situa-
tion again, asking me questions, checking
the story very carefully. The commission-
er wanted to know every N.F.L. game I
had bet on, and he wanted to make certain
I had never bet on a Baltimore game. He
was efficient, cordial, impressive. He
seemed genuinely concerned for me as
well as for the game.

Dr. Robert Custer attended that meet-
ing, too. Dr. Custer works at the Veterans’
Administration Hospital in Washington,
D.C., and he is the expert on compulsive
behavior. I had already begun seeing him
and another expert, Dr. Thaddeus Kos-
trubala in San Diego. They agreed 1 was
sick, І was a compulsive gambler. I was an
alcoholic who didn't drink, a junkie who
didn't use drugs. I was hooked on gam-
bling. I needed counseling. 1 needed guid-
ance. And, most of all, I needed never to
place a bet again.

The doctors advised the N.F.L. that,
with the proper treatment, 1 could be
rehabilitated, my sickness controlled.
They recommended that I commit myself
to South Oaks Hospital in Amityville,
New York, a psychiatric institution spe-
cializing in compulsive behavior. I went in
for four wecks, surrounded by gamblers,
drug addicts and alcoholics. I sat through
long group-therapy sessions, and at first, 1
sat very quietly. I was numb at the start. I
had a long way to go. I thought I couldn't
have feelings for anyone or anything ever
again. Sometimes, my mind would start
spinning 100 miles an hour, and I couldn't
stop it the way I used to, by gambling. I
just had to say “Whoa, horsy” and step
back and take a deep breath and think
about where I'd come from and where I
wanted to go.

The other patients gradually drew me
into the sessions. “What do you think,
Art? How do you feel, Art?” I felt uncom-
fortable, which meant it was starting to
work. I began to get in touch with my
feelings, feelings Pd buried for years,
about football and women, about cheating
and lying, about being put up ona pedes-
tal because of my athletic ability. I began
to see how other people had created me,
pushed me, molded me; how I hadn’t been
allowed to be myself.

I hoped the N.F.L. would see that I was
in treatment and go easy on me, allow me
to continue to play football, to earn a liv-
ing, to try to begin paying off my enor-
mous debts, the legitimate debts, which
added up to more than $750,000. But
Commissioner Rozelle decided he had to
suspend me and said he would review the

suspension in a year. The decision pained
me, but I understood his ruling. He had to
protect the image of the game, protect its
integrity, and even though I never bet on a
Baltimore game, never gave inside infor-
mation to any gambler, never tried to
influence the outcome of any game (except
to win it), I was still in a vulnerable posi-
tion. I was exposed. I was sick.

I won't pretend that I don't miss gam-
bling. But I fight it. The first weekend of
the 1983 N.F.L. season, I watched the
Monday-night game between Washington
and Dallas. I happened to see in the paper
that Dallas was favored by two and a half
points. I knew that if I were gambling, I'd
go with the Cowboys. Dallas minus two
and a half.

The Cowboys were down by 20 points
at half time, but in the second half, they
exploded, and with a minute to play, they
were eight points ahead. The game was
locked up. The spread wasn’t. In the final
minute, Washington drove for a touch-
down, a “meaningless” one, as meaning-
less as Geoff Huston’s free throws that
had cost me $50,000. The Redskins still
lost, by one point. But they covered the
spread. I knew that if ГА been betting, I'd
have had Dallas and I'd have lost. I
actually giggled when Washington scored,
and I went to bed with a smile on my face,
with a good feeling. Pm not a gambler
anymore, I told myself, and, more impor-
tant, I’m glad I’m not.

I've got to be careful that I don’t get too
cocky. I know I’m not cured. There’s no
such thing as a “cure” for compulsive
gambling. It's something ГЇЇ have to fight
to control for the rest of my life. Just about
every day, I drive past Scioto Downs, the
track between my home and Columbus. I
feel it tugging at me, and I fight it. Dr.
Custer isn't surprised. He says that's nor-
mal for someone who has gone through
what Гуе gone through. He knows that
my treatment is painful and that I’m not
going to get better all at once.

The doctor has been unbelievably sup-
portive. So have total strangers. I went to a
high school football game one night and
literally hundreds of people came down
onto the field, asking for my autograph,
wishing me luck. One guy stood a good
distance away and kept yelling, “Hey,
gambler, who do you like? What's the
spread here?” But everyone else seemed to
be on my side.

Гуе got a wonderful girlfriend now—
she’s in school in Santa Barbara—and
she’s helping me every way she can. She’s
the first woman I've ever allowed to know
me. She's one of the very few people who
know most of the things I've written here.
Some of them have to be painful for her to
read, as painful as they are for me to
admit, but she understands that now,
finally, Гус got to be honest. No more
lies.

Gil Kirk and Chuck Freiburger are the
best friends Гус made in a long time. Гус

even joined their touch-football team,
playing defensive end most of the time, not
one of the glamor positions, Chuck, who
was the first player inducted into the
National Touch Football Hall of Fame—
honestly—tells me I’m a pretty good
defensive end. He doesn’t think as much of
me as a backup quarterback, maybe be-
cause I'm backing up а gray-haired 39-
year-old lawyer named Freiburger.
Touch football is pure fun, no pressure.
It’s relaxing. So are fishing, which I've
taken up, and singing. Everybody in my
family sings prety well and—who
knows?—with a little coaching, I might
have a future as a country singer.

Kirk and Freiburger understand me,
and when they're not helping me learn to
relax, learn to appreciate leisure time,
they're pushing me, driving me, prodding
me to stay away from gambling and to get
in shape physically and mentally. They
want me to be completely prepared when I
do get a chance to play football.

It isn’t easy to work out by yourself, to
do all the things you have to do to keep
sharp as a quarterback, when you know
you can't play for at least a year. But I’m
trying. I’m lifting weights, more than Гуе
ever lifted in my life, and Pm throwing.
Рт in the best shape I’ve been in in years.
I've got something to prove to a lot of
people, and I’ve got the confidence I can
prove it, and all I need is a place to play,
in the N.F.L. or the United States Foot-
ball League or somewhere else.

I know there are people rooting for
me—and people rooting against me,
people who think I haven't fallen far
enough yet. Some of them are in Balti-
morc and some are in Columbus, and
they'll do anything they can to drag me
down: tempt me or taunt me or taint me
with rumors, or just plain lies—such as
the story that came out that I broke into
somebody's home and stole a bookmaker's
number and bet $20,000 or $30,000 on
football games early this season. That's
ridiculous. The people who spread those
stories are people I cost a lot of money.
They don’t like me at all.

A vicious cartoon appeared in Septem-
ber in one of the student publications at
Ohio State. The first panel showed me in
my Ohio State uniform, and the caption
said, THis 1s лкт. The second caption said,
SEE ART RUN. RUN, ART, RUN. SEE ART PASS.
PASS, ART, PASS. The third said, SEE ART PLAY
PRO FOOTBALL. SIT, AKT The fourth said,
SEE ART GET BORED AND START TO GAMBLE.
LOSE, ART, LOSE. The fifth said, SEE ART TURN
IN HIS BOOKIE TO THE FBI SING, ART, SING.

The caption under the final panel said,
THIS Is ART. The drawing showed a tomb-
stone with my name on it. 1 can't do much
about the first five captions, no matter
how much they hurt. All I can do now is
try to make it a long and better time
between the fifth panel and the last.

“Not only is he great in bed, he has a penetrating wit, too.”

PLAYBOY

ENTREPRENEUR QUIZ. on page 81)

“The average age of entrepreneurs has been steadily
falling since the late Fifties.”

1. The independent way of life is not so
much genetic as it is learned, and the first
school for any entrepreneur is the home.
It's only natural that a child who has
grown up in a home where at least one
parent is self-employed is more likely to
try his hand at his own business than a
child whose parents were in, say, the civil
service. Research has shown that to be the
case more than two thirds of the time.

Scoring: A.10; B.S; С.5; D.2; E.0

2. This question is tricky, because the
independent-thinking entrepreneur will
very often quit a job instead of waiting

around to get fired. However, the dynam-
ics of the situation are the same: The
impasse results from the entrepreneur's
brashness and his almost compulsive need
to be right. Steven Jobs and Steven Woz-
niak went ahead with Apple Computer
when their project was rejected by their
respective employers, Atari and Hewlett-
Packard. And when Thomas Watson was
fired by National Cash Register in 1913,
he joined the Computer-Tabulating-Re-
cording Company and ran it until a month
before his death in 1956. He also changed
the company’s name to IBM. The need to

“First, gentlemen, let me emphasize that the urine test
is not, in any sense, a competition.”

be right very often turns rejection into
courage and courage into authority.

Scoring: A.10; B.7; С.0

3. America is still the land of opportu-
nity and a hotbed for entrepreneurship.
The displaced people who arrive here
every day—be they Cuban, Korean, Viet-
namese or whatever—can still turn hard
work and enthusiasm into successful busi-
ness enterprises. Although it is far from a
necessary ingredient for entrepreneurship,
the need to succeed is often greater among
those whose backgrounds contain an extra
struggle to fit into society.

Scoring: А.5; B.4; С.3; 0.0

4. It’s been said that “inside every cor-
porate body, there's an entrepreneur
struggling to escape.” However, small-
business management is more than just a
scaled-down version of big-business man-
agement. The skills needed to run a big
business are altogether different from
those needed to orchestrate an entrepre-
neurial venture. While the professional
manager is skilled at protecting resources,
the entrepreneurial manager is skilled at
creating them.

Scoring: A.10; В.5; С.О

5. The enterprising adult first appears
as the enterprising child. Coin and stamp
collecting, mowing lawns, shoveling snow,
promoting dances and rock concerts are all
common examples of early business усп-
tures. The paper route of today could be
the Federal Express of tomorrow.

Scoring: A.10; B.7; С.0

6. The average age of entrepreneurs
has been steadily falling since the late Fif-
ties and early Sixties, when it was found to
be between 40 and 45. Our most recent
research puts the highest concentration of
entrepreneurs in their 30s, but such
people as Jobs and Wozniak, Ed DeCas-
tro and Herb Richman of Data General
and Fred Smith of Federal Express all got
their businesses off the ground while still
in their 20s. Although we look for those
data to stabilize right around 30, there are
always exceptions that leave us wonder-
ing. Computer whiz Jonathan Rotenberg
is just such an exception. He currently
presides over the 10,000-member Boston
Computer Society, is the publisher of the
slick magazine Computer Update and
earns up to $1500 a day as a consultant. In
1978, his advice was solicited by the pro-
moter of an upcoming public computer
show. After conferring with him several
times on the phone, the promoter sug-
gested they meet for a drink to continue
their discussions. “I can’t,” Rotenberg
replied. When asked, “Why not?” he
answered, “Because I’m only 15.” An
established entrepreneur, Rotenberg is
now all of 20 years old.

Scoring: A.8; B.10; C.5; D.2

7. The answer to this question is al-
ways the same. Entrepreneurs are most
commonly the oldest children in a family.

With an average of 2.2 children per
American family, the chances of being the
first child are less than 50 percent. How-
ever, entrepreneurs tend to be the oldest
children more than 60 percent of the
time.

Scoring: A.15; B.2; С.О; D.0.

8. Our research concluded that the vast
majority of entrepreneurs are married.
But then, most men in their 30s are mar-
ried, so that alone isn’t a significant find-
ing. However, follow-up studies have
shown that most successful entrepreneurs
have exceptionally supportive wives.
(While our results didn’t provide conclu-
sive results on female entrepreneurs, we
suspect that their husbands would have to
be doubly supportive.) A supportive mate
provides the love and stability necessary to
balance the insecurity and stress of the job.
A divorce or a strained marriage or love
life will simply add too much pressure to
an already strained business life.

It’s also interesting to note that bankers
and venture capitalists look a lot more
favorably on entrepreneurs who are mar-
ried than on those living with their mates
without the benefit of clergy. As one ven-
ture capitalist told us, “If an entrepreneur
isn’t willing to make a commitment to the
woman he loves, then ГЇЇ be damned if т
going to make any financial commitment
to him.”

Scoring: A.10; B.2; C.2.

9. The question of formal education
among entrepreneurs has always been
controversial. Studies in the Fifties and
Sixties showed that many entrepreneurs
had failed to finish high school, not to
mention college. Our data, however, con-
clude that the most common educational
level achieved by entrepreneurs is the
bachelor’s degree, and the trend seems
headed toward the M.B.A. Few entrepre-
neurs have the time or the patience to earn
a doctorate.

Scoring: A.2; В.3; C.10; D.8; E.4

10. Entrepreneurs don't like working
for anyone but themselves. While money
is always a consideration, there аге easier
ways to make money than by going it
alone. More often than not, money is a
by-product of an entrepreneur's motiva-
tion rather than the motivation itself.

Scoring: A.0; B.15; C.0; D.O

11. These results really surprised us,
because past studies, including our own,
have always emphasized the strained or
competitive relationship between the en-
trepreneur and the income-producing par-
ent (usually the father). However, our
latest study showed that a surprising per-
centage of the entrepreneurs we ques-
tioned had what they considered to be a
comfortable relationship with that parent.
"To a large extent, we think that is directly
related to the changing ages and educa-
tional backgrounds of the new entrepre-
neurs, who are children of the Fifties and

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142

Sixties, not children of the Depression. In
most cases, they've been afforded the luxu-
ry of a college education, not forced to
drop out of high school to help support the
family; so the entrepreneur's innate inde-
pendence hasn't come into such dramatic
conflict with the father as it might have in
the past. We still feel that a strained ог
competitive relationship best fits the entre-
preneurial profile, though the nature of
that relationship is no longer black and
white.

Scoring: A.10; B.5; C.10; D.5

12. The difference between the hard
worker and the smart worker is the difTer-
ence between the hired hand and the boss.
What's more, the entrepreneur usually
enjoys what he’s doing so much that he
rarely notices how hard he’s working. A
decision is an action taken by an executive
when the information he has is so incom-
plete that the answer doesn’t suggest itself.
‘The entrepreneur's job is to make sure the
answers always suggest themselves.

Scoring: A.0; B.5; C.10

13. Entrepreneurs seldom rely on in-
ternal people for major policy decisions,
because employees very often have pet
projects to protect or personal axes to
grind. Outside financial sources simply
lack the imagination that characterizes
most entrepreneurs. The most noble am-
bition of most bankers and accountants is
to maintain the status quo. When it
comes to critical decisions, then, entrepre-
neurs most often rely on outside manage-
ment consultants and other entrepreneurs.

Scoring: A.0; B.10; С.0; D.5

14. Contrary to popular belief, entre-
preneurs aren't high-risk takers. They
tend to set realistic and achievable goals,
and when they do take risks, they're usu-
ally calculated ones. Entrepreneurs are
very confident in their own skills and are
much more willing to bet on their tennis
or golf game than they are to buy lottery
tickets or to bet on spectator sports.

Scoring: A.0; B.2; C.10; D.3

15. All businesses begin with orders,
and orders can come only from customers.
You may think you're in business when
you've developed a prototype or after
you've raised capital, but bankers and
venture capitalists buy only potential. It
takes customers to buy product.

Scoring: A.0; B.10; C.0; D.O

16. е billionaire Daniel Ludwig,
many entrepreneurs will adamantly state
that they have по hobbies. But that doesn't
mean that they have no social life. In fact,
the entrepreneur is a very social person
and, more often than not, a very charming
one. (Remember, an entrepreneur is
someone who gets things done, and getting
things done often involves charming the
right banker or supplier.) And while he
will often have difficulty talking about

things other than himself or his business,

his enthusiasm is such that whatever he
talks about sounds interesting.

Scoring: A.0; B.10; С.3; D.O

17. One of the biggest weaknesses that
entrepreneurs face is their tendency to
“fall in love” too easily. They go wild over
new employees, products, suppliers, ma-
chines, methods and financial plans. Any-
thing new excites them. But those love
affairs usually don’t last long; many of
them are over almost as suddenly as they
begin. The problem is that while they’re
going on, entrepreneurs can quite easily
alienate their staffs, become stubborn
about listening to opposing views and lose
their objectivity.

Scoring: A.5; B.5; C.5; D.5; E.15

18. The answer to this question is easy:
“Bright and energetic,” right? Wrong.
That describes a personal like your
own. But stop and think a minute. You're
the boss. Would you be happy—or for
that matter, efficient—as someone else's
right-hand man? Probably not. And you
don't want to hire an entrepreneur to do a
hired hand’s job.

"That's why the “bright and lazy” per-
sonality makes the best assistant. He's not
out to prove himself, so he won’t be butt-
ing heads with the entrepreneur at every
turn. And while he's relieved at not having
to make critical decisions, his delegating
ability makes him a whiz when it comes to
implementing them.

Scoring: A.2; B.10; C.0

19. Organization is the key to an entre-
preneur's success. It is the fundamental
principle on which all entreprencurial
ventures are based. Without it, no other
principles matter. Some entrepreneurs
keep lists on their desks, always crossing
things off from the top and adding to the
bottom. Others use note cards, keeping a
file in their jacket pockets. Organizational
systems may differ, but you'll never find
an entrepreneur who’s without one.

Scoring: A.5; В.15; C.5

20. The only thing an entrepreneur
likes less than discussing employee prob-
lems is discussing petty-cash slips and
expense accounts. Solving problems is
what an entrepreneur does best, but prob-
lems involving employees seldom require.
his intervention, so discussing them is just
an irritating distraction. Expense accounts
are even worse. What an entrepreneur
wants to know is how much his sales-
people are selling, not how much they're
padding their expense accounts.

Scoring: A.8; В.10; С.0; D.0

21. Entrepreneurs are participants, not
observers; players, not fans. And to be an
entreprencur is to be an optimist: to
believe that with the right amount of time
and the right amount of money, you can
do anything.

Of course, chance—being in the right
place at the right time—plays a part in

anyone’s career; but entrepreneurs have a
tendency to make their own chances.
There’s the old story about the shoe man-
ufacturer who sent his two sons to the
Mediterranean to scout out new markets.
One wired back, “No point in staying on.
No one here wears shoes.” The other son
wired back, “Terrific opportunities.
Thousands still without shoes.” Who do
you think inherited the business?

Scoring: A.0; В.15

22. Sales give instant feedback on your
performance; it’s the easiest job of all for
measuring success. How does a personnel
counselor or a teacher ever know if he's
winning or losing? Entrepreneurs need
immediate feedback and are alwayscapable
of adjusting their strategies in order to win.
Some entrepreneurs brag that they play by
the rules when they're winning and change
the rules when they’re losing. Although we
don’t endorse it (look what happened to
John DeLorean), when it works, it’s known
as the win/win strategy.

Scoring: A.3; В.10; C.0; D.O

23. While friends are important, solv-
ing problems is clearly more important.
Often, the best thing an entrepreneur can
do for a friendship is spare it the extra
strain of a working relationship.

Scoring: A.0; B.10

24. Everyone knows that a camel is a
horse that was designed by a committee,
and unless it’s clear that onc person is in
charge, decisions are bound to suffer from
a committee mentality.

Scoring: A.10; B2; C.0

25. Vince Lombardi was famous for
saying, “Winning isn't everything, it’s the
only thing.” An entrepreneur would agree
with that, but he would also leave himself
an emotional loophole. “We didn’t lose
any games last season,” he might say; “we
just ran out of time twice.” Entrepreneur-
ing is a competitive game, and an entre-
preneur has to be able to bounce back.

Scoring: A.8; B.10; C.15; D.O

YOUR
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PROFILE
225-275 Successful entreprencur*
190-224 EM Entrepreneur
175-189 Latent entrepreneur
160-174 . Potential entrepreneur
150-159 Borderline entrepreneur
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PLAYBOY

144

WOMEN OF STEEL. sio

“Some people say bodybuilding is unfeminine, but
they usually don’t say it when they look at me.”

her titles again

In a Los Angeles branch of the May
Company one day last year, security agent
Roberta Vasquez spotted a woman who
was stuffing her oversize fur jacket with
expensive Polo shirts. “Those shirts are
$32.50 apiece,” says Roberta, "and she
was just slapping them in her jacket, com-
pletely goin’ for it!

Roberta, like Graciela a black belt in
karate, followed the woman outside. А
carload of men (a low-budget polo team?)
waited at the curb When Roberta
grabbed the woman’s sleeve, one of them
unfolded his legs and rose from the car.

"This guy was about 6/5", 225—1
mean, huge. So there I was in the parking
lot, pulling on this woman's jacket, pulling
her hair, trying to get her back in the
store, and her boyfriend starts kicking me
and beating on my back. I had to let go of
her and start hitting him.”

Back and forth they went as a crowd
gathered to gawk. Roberta tugged the
woman a few steps toward the store. The
boyfriend pinned her arms and smacked
her on the head. She clbowed him and
went for the woman. The boyfriend wres-
tled her to the sidewalk. She kicked him
and reached for the woman.

“Tt went on and on, until eventually she
jumped into the car. She dove right
through the window. But I was still pull-
ing on her jacket. It came off, and all the
polo shirts fell out, and her blouse came
off, too. She wasn't wearing a bra or any-
thing—that gave all the people something
to look at. Then the guy jumped in the car
and they drove off. But I got a handful of
his hair. And I got all the polo shirts
[Eno

"Then there was the night she chased а
drug-addled transvestite up a flight of con-
crete steps, only to have him punch her out
and drag her back down. Thump, thump,
thump went her head, but at the bottom
she got up and held him until help came.
“They gave me the next day off to spend
at the beach,” Roberta recalls with the
smile of a native Angeleno.

Pamela O'Neill, formerly a Bunny in
the Buffalo Playboy Club, is currently a
Buffalo Jill, a cheerleader for the N.F.L.'s
Buffalo Bills. She's also a bodyguard for
highly paid executives whose bodies are,
presumably, more valuable but less attrac-
tive than hers. Not long ago, Pam won the
Women's Bodyguard Contest in Buffalo.
She can bench-press 150 pounds, run an
11-second 100-yard dash and dash the
hopes of much larger opponents in any
wrist-wrestling competition. “Bodybuild-
ing and the martial arts are my hobbies,”
she says. "I'm a bodyguard and a financial

consultant, but one of these days, Pd like
to be a Broadway dancer.”

Bodybuilder Anita Gandol strolled into
a Pontiac, Michigan, spa three years ago
and noticed she was "starting to get flab-
by.” She stopped that right away, working
out with free weights. "First, I just
watched the men’s bodybuilding contests,
since that was about all there was. 1 like
men’s bodies. But I’ve been in seven wom-
en’s contests since then.”

Three of those ended in victories for
Anita. She was Miss Detroit 1981 and
Miss Midwest 1981 and 1982. “My last
contest was the Ms. Olympia in Warring-
ton, Pennsylvania. It’s the most important
bodybuilding competition for women, and
I was in the best shape of my life. I ended
up placing eleventh. There's a lot of poli-
пое

What do these four well-defined young
women have in common, other than an
uncommon beauty and a rare dedication to
their crafts? For one thing, they are all
concerned that in the world’s narrow view
they seem somehow . . . well, butch.

Maybe the world should look again.
While these four women are stronger than
the next guy, they are no less feminine
than the next Cosmo cover girl.

Graciela, the boxer, disdains boxing
trunks for their everlasting formlessness.
She designed the world's first boxing skirt,
complete with sequins and chiffon. “Just
because I step into the ring doesn’t mean I
lose my femininity,” she jabs. “That skirt
is my trademark. It’s symbolic.”

Anita, the bodybuilder, makes eyes pop
when her musdes bulge, but otherwise
she's a pleasant, occasionally giggly young
Michigander. "Some people come to con-
tests and say bodybuilding is unfeminine,”
she admits, “but they usually don’t say it
when they look at me.”

Roberta, the security agent, has to tape
her bust when she’s on duty to keep the
men she collars from getting the wrong
idea. Still, she refuses to play the shrink-
ing violet for anybody. “1 like strong
men,” Roberta says, “but does that mean 1
shouldn't be able to take care of myself’

Pam, as she breaks seven bricks
опе karate chop, has an even sharper
retort for those who presume to question
her femininity. “I don’t like rude people,”
she tells them.

Graciela, highest profile of the four, has
a twice-broken nose that only adds charac-
ter to the face that's slipped a thousand
fists. She holds a master’s degree in psy-
chology from California Lutheran, has
studied acting under Stella Adler and is
onc of the staunchest defenders of wom-

en’s right to compete as women.

“The point is not to prove that we're
better than men or that we can beat men,”
says the only woman ever to hold concur-
rent titles in two sports. “Меп and women
are different.” She emphasizes her words
with hand gestures that are almost too fast
to follow; the listener has trouble deciding
whether to watch the lightning in the
hands or the lightning in the eyes. “Condi-
tions in boxing are better for women now,
but we’re still far behind the men. That's
not so new. Women have had to face that
in every aspect of society, in every pro-
fession.”

She faced it early in her career even
when it came to fighting other women.
She calls her signing for a 1979 fight with
world champion Karen Bennett a “freak
accident" It would be the first boxing
match Graciela had ever fought.

“Bennett was going to defend her title
two weeks later, and she needed an easy
tune-up match,” the current champ re-
calls. “Га just been rejected for a match by
the state of Texas as an ‘inferior oppo-
nent.’ So when Bennett needed an oppo-
nent, we had to doctor my record up. I
would have done anything to get an
opportunity to fight her, to be known. It
wasn't сусп supposed to be a title fight,
but I went in the ring and beat her so
badly she announced her retirement that
night. After that, they were really in a
bind for the title fight two weeks later.
They said I might as well go. I fought
Ginger Kaufman, the number-two con-
tender, and beat her in a unanimous deci-
sion. But it was a war."

Having won her boxing title and full-
contact crown in 1979, and having held
both ever since, Graciela is just about
ready to retire from the wars. She studies
acting harder than ever now, though she
still trains every day, and would like to
take on a few martial-arts films. Some-
where down the road, she would like to
make Hollywood her corner. "There's no
reason to doubt her determination. Or her
ambition.

“I've been in the martial-arts world for
ten years now. It’s been a real struggle,
and І feel to this point I haven't gotten the
recognition I should have. It was a sur-
prise and an honor that eLAYBov thought I
was beautiful enough to bc in the maga-
zine, and I'm trying at this point to devel-
op a very visible carcer. Гуе accomplished
more than most male athletes. I hold two
world titles in two sports. So why not go
big, so the whole world will eventually
know who I am?

*Men are stronger than women," she
says, getting up to leave for a flight to Los
Angeles, where she was to spar with men
that afternoon and kick-box with them
that night. “But women have other natu-
ral gifts. One of them is endurance."

As ought to be obvious by now, endur-
ance is not the only опе.

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PLAYBOY

146

SNOW GODS t fon page 120)

“The numbers flash on the board, and they’re low, too
low. It has to be a mistake, but it isn't."

face. It happens time after time and you
never get used to it.

Phil and Steve Mahre are technical
skiers, which means that they specialize in
slalom and giant slalom. They do not com-
pete in downhill races unless the event,
like the Arlberg-Kandahar, is tied to one
of their specialties and gives them a chance
to score combined points, Whenever that
happens, Phil invariably does better than
Steve in the downhill; but even so, he nev-
er finishes better than ninth, usually
between tenth and 15th. Fair enough; you
get World Cup points for finishing in the
first 15, and he’s not supposed to ski
downhill, anyway. He wasn’t trained for
it and it’s not expected of him. So Satur-
day morning at St. Anton, starting the
downhill in the 16th spot, Phil drops
down the Arlberg-Kandahar course like
an elevator with its cable cut and comes in
fifth behind Luescher, Silvano Meli, Wei-
rather and Podborski, all of them top
downhill racers, and ahead of a host of
other aces. It’s a personal best for him, a
triumph, and it puts him in a commanding
position to cop the combined title the next
day when the slalom is run. So there's
your story, right?

"Wrong.

By the time Billy Johnson is ready to
make his run out of the 43rd spot, most of
the people at the finish line have left to
belly up to the booths selling Würstchen
and beer and Schnaps. In the press arca,
the journalists are similarly occupied, the
only difference being that their food and
booze are on the house. The quality of the
freebies varies erratically on the World
Cup circuit, and everyone in the press
arca agrecs that the Schnaps at St. Anton
rates high. It's a good time of day, with a
light snow falling, the sun still bright, the
cowbells clanging merrily and the Schnaps
going down like icy bullets. Nobody is
paying much attention to the race any-
more. In effect, it’s over. After the first 15
or so skiers have chopped up the course, it
becomes progressively more difficult to
finish high in the standings, and after the
first 30, it is impossible.

Over the public-address system, the an-
nouncer says, "Starting number 43, Billy
Johnson of the U.S.A.” The announcer is
a professional who works the ski meets all
over Austria, known for his ability to call
out the numbers and the standings quickly
in four languages. He is also somewhat of
a cheerleader and a clown, able to whip up
the crowd to a pitch of enthusiasm one
minute and have them laughing the next.

"The numbers begin to flash on the elec-

tronic scoreboard next to the finish line,
hundredths of seconds ticking off as John-
son starts his run. He can’t be seen from
the finish line, but somewhere up there, he
has left the starting gate at the top of
Kapall to career down the Fasch-Schuss,
negotiate the compression turn at Laviert-
S, skitter across the Himmeleck, and now
he's coming up to the Stall Passage, where
his intermediate time will be registered.
The numbers flash on the board, and
they’re low, too low. It has to bc a mistake,
but it isn't.

"Achtung! Achtung!" 'The announcer's
voice goes up a couple of notches, gulping
with excitement, and heads in the crowd
whip around to see the board. Languages
jumble together as he shouts, "Achtung,
hier kommt Billy Johnson, und he's com-
ing like schnell.”

By now, he’s past the Barensprung,
over the Taja Schuss and coming up to the
Kangaroo Jump, where the crowds are
thick and the bells are booming. You can
see the Kangaroo from the bottom and you
can see him take it, grabbing air but not
too much as he comes off the lip, holding
his tuck, landing flat and dropping, like a
stone, down the Moos-Zielschuss in the
final run to the finish. A roar goes up as
the numbers stop flashing and the com-
puter registers his time and placement.

It’s 2:05.50. Sixth place.

Sixth place starting from the 43rd spot
against the best in the world. If you don’t
know World Cup racing, it doesn’t sound
like much, but it is and everybody on that
mountain knows it. The cowbells are
going crazy now, those who aren’t shout-
ing are laughing with delight and the
entire U.S. team is around the kid and
pounding him on the back. Even the Aus-
trians from the Arlberg Club are grinning.
105 an intensely emotional scene, but
somehow you have the feeling that some-
thing is missing. Over the cheers of the
crowd, the public address system should
be playing Frank Sinatra singing, “I did it

"There are all kinds of coaches on the
U.S. Ski Team. Alpine director Bill Ma-
rolt is the chairman of the board, responsi-
ble for the women’s team as well as the
men’s, and his obligations keep him on the
move. Andreas Rauch, the downhill
coach, is an earnest motivator cast in the
Austrian tradition. Tom Kelly, slalom and
giant slalom, is silver-haired and ruddy-
faced, at 50 an avuncular figure to the kids
on the team. And then there is Konrad
Rickenbach.

The head coach of the men's team was
born in Switzerland, raised in California,

and at 28 he is only a few years older than
the young men for whom he is responsible.
In a sport in which neither the athletes nor
the coaches are noted for their introspec-
tion, Rickenbach is an intense, almost
angry purist, as much involved in the aes-
thetic as in the physical side of skiing. He
is a mountain man in the truest sense, and
his quict ambition is to travel the range of
the Andes from north to south in an
anthropological study of the various cul-
tures inhabiting the chain. Late at night,
after the downhill race and on the eve of
the slalom, he tries to sort out his feelings
about the sport.

“Those of us who make a living out of
skiing sometimes forget what it’s all about
and where it all started,” he says sadly.

Someone suggests, “Maybe that’s be-
cause you've never had to stand at the top
of a hill and force yourself to ski it even
though you were scared silly.”

He nods his agreement. “That’s true.
We deal so much with excellence and fear-
lessness that we forget that skiing is based
on a man’s ability to overcome his basic
fear of speed and high places, and the need
to perform past the limitations that his
body imposes on him.”

And has he never felt that fear?

Rickenbach smiles but does not answer.
He's been around too long to answer ques-
tions like that. Besides, he’s got a sadness
on him tonight.

Many things sadden Konrad Ricken-
bach, but what saddens him most is what
he sees as the erosion of the stand-
ards of the sport he loves, and the erosive
agent is, of course, television. Like every-
one else, he knows that there are races
run every year—at the wrong time of the
day or under substandard conditions—
that would never be run if it weren't for
television

“But you can't make television the vil-
lain of the piece,” he points out. “It isn’t as
simple as that. Television isn’t a Devil
ith horns and a tail; it doesn’t force orga-
nizers to run dangerous races, like that
one at Sarajevo. Television in sports is an
abstract force, just as evil is. Television
simply says, ‘Look, you run a race and
we'll pay you for the right to carry it. If
you don't run a race, or if you don't run it
when we say you should, then you don't
get paid. Television doesn't make the
final decision."

"Which means that skiers are often
forced to race under unsafe conditions?”

He looks disgusted at the need to put it
into words. The year before, there had
been rumors of a threatened strike, of cer-
tain teams’ and certain coaches’ refusing
to race under certain conditions. Eventual-
ly, the talk had blown away and nothing
had come of it. Now Rickenbach shrugs
expressively and says, “Sure, that’s what
it means. What else could it mean?”

Too much tristesse for one evening, and
with the slalom the next day, it’s time to
go to bed. On the skiing circuit, you don't

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(

PLAYBOY

stay up late on the night before a slalom,
because a slalom starts at ten in the morn-
ing. A downhill is different. The downhill
doesn’t start until noon.

The American quest for an Olympic
gold medal in Alpine skiing has been
going on for almost a quarter of a century,
beginning back in 1960 when Buddy
Werner was the first American man ever
conceded a chance to make it in what was
then a totally European sport. But just
before the games, Werner broke a leg in
training and wound up watching the races
on crutches. Death of a dream, phase one;
and four years later, the dream seemed
truly dead when Werner was killed in an
avalanche. In that same year, 1964, Billy
Kidd and Jimmy Heuga finished second
and third in the slalom at Innsbruck, but
that was the end of medal production until
1980 at Lake Placid, when Phil Mahre,
coming back from a near-crippling broken
ankle, took the silver medal in the slalom.
For the Mahre brothers, now near the end
of their racing careers, Sarajevo represents
the last chance to fulfill their part of that
quest for the gold, and until late last year,
the one man most likely to stand in their
way seemed to be Ingemar Stenmark of
Sweden, who edged out Phil at the last
Olympics and is the winner of 17 World

Cup skiing titles. Then, only three months
before the start of the Olympics, the
International Ski Federation declared him
ineligible for the 1984 games. The federa-
tion’s ruling stemmed from a special B
license that Stenmark holds, allowing him
to accept money directly from sponsors.
without losing his status for World Cup
competition. Money going to skiers, such
as the Mahre brothers, who do not have
such a license must first be channeled
through their national ski federation,
which then rewards individual competi-
tors. The B license, however, applies to
World Cup races but not to the Olympics,
and when Stenmark changed his status in
1980, it was assumed that he had given up
thoughts of further Olympic competition.
Then, as Steve Mahre puts it, “The
federation decided to let him compete at
Sarajevo anyway, its attitude being that it
would be a hollow Olympics without him.
It wasn't right. Phil and I could have done
the same thing and we would have made a
lot more money that way over the past few
years, but we didn’t, because we wanted to
continue to compete in the Olympics."
Steve was not the only one who felt it
wasn't right, and as opposition mounted to
the midstream change of course, the feder-
ation announced that Stenmark would
not, after all, be allowed to compete in the

1984 games. The disqualification of the
defending gold medalist in the slalom and
giant slalom altered the complexion of the
fields in those two events, promoting the
chances of Stenmark's countryman Stig
Strand, Andreas Wenzel of Lichtenstein,
Yugoslavia’s Bojan Krizaj, Max Julen
and Pirmin Zurbriggen of Switzerland
and Austria’s Gruber, Orlainsky and
Hans Enn. But as the date for the Olym-
pics drew closer, everyone agreed that the
games would not be quite the same with-
out Stenmark carving his precise, mathe-
matical turns on the mountainside.

But that is all in the future on this sec-
ond day of the Arlberg-Kandahar race at
St. Anton. The slalom section is run in
two heats, the lowest combined time pro-
viding the winner. The first heat goes off
promptly at ten in the morning, and when
it is over, the leader is Andreas Wenzel of
Liechtenstein, followed by Stenmark, then
Steve and Phil Mahre. Buxman misses a
gate at the top of the run and does not
finish. He goes back to the hotel and has a
quiet lunch with his family.

The course is reset for the afternoon
run, and Tom Kelly comes down to report
that it is “absolutely bulletproof,” slick-
hard with ice from being watered over and
frozen. They do that in big-league skiing.
Ice is the nemesis of the recreational skier,
to be avoided at all costs; but if you can’t
ski on ice, then you can’t ski slalom on the
World Cup tour.

For the second run, they reverse the
order of finish of the five best times, and at
this point, Phil can take off some of the
steam, since any decent finish in the sla-
lom, combined with his fifth in the down-
hill the day before, will give him the
Arlberg-Kandahar title. Instead, he at-
tacks the course with his usual passion,
slashing down the mountainside to finish
with a combined time of 1:51.61. Then
comes Steve, and the two look so much
alike that it’s like watching instant replay.
The same drive, the same hot pursuit of
time, but this time it’s Steve who is a frac-
tion faster, coming in at 1:51.44 to edge
ahead of his brother.

* Achtung, Achtung," goes the Р.А. sys-
tem. “Ingemar Stenmark on the course.”

Eyes up on the mountain as Stenmark
comes into view, carving his precise, math-
ematical turns, and he's coming fast
enough to make you gasp, because if he
keeps it up, he's a winner for sure. Fast,
too fast, he's whipping through the gates,
and in that speck of time an evil thought
forms, unsportsmanlike, unworthy, but
your lips form the words as you silently
say, Fall down, goddamn it, fall down.

And he falls down.

Just as you say it, he falls, not hurt, but
he’s out of it and it’s all over. Wenzel slips
in behind Steve to take second, but the rest
of the field is out of contention, and it’s
another big day for the Mahre brothers.
Phil has won the A-K combined and Steve

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PLAYBOY

has won the slalom. As predicted.

Опе by опе, the Austrian friends come
over to offer congratulations to the visiting:
American. Their handshakes are firm and
their smiles are real. It’s the skiing that
counts, after all, and perhaps the unspo-
ken thought that the Mahre twins won't
be around to plague them much longer.

Later that afternoon, the U.S. Ski
"Team divides itself as it leaves St. Anton,
the Mahre brothers going on to World
Cup races in France and West Germany
while the younger skiers head back home
for the U.S. National Championships,
where the twins will later join them. As
the daylight fades, Phil Mahre is the first
to leave, his wife and baby daughter beside
him on the front seat of the Subaru team
car that is his for the season. He looks
tired, not just physically but worn by the
pressures, and he admits that racing has
not been the same for him this year. It's
not as much fun anymore, and a fraction
of the motivation may be missing. After
all, he has accomplished so much. He has
just won the Arlberg-Kandahar again, he
is well on his way to capturing his third
straight over-all World Cup champion-
ship and he has even developed a late-
career proficiency in the downhill. No
more worlds to conquer? Yes, the one that
has always eluded him, and he will try for
it once more next year in Sarajevo. One
last hill to climb, one last mountain to ski.

Steve Mahre bustles out of the hotel to
complete the loading of his car. His wife
and daughter are in the front seat, waiting
while he shoves a final package into the

back. The car looks like part of a gypsy
caravan, loaded down with the impedi-
menta of a family living on the road. Steve
pushes the package in firmly and slams
the hatch shut, a satisfied man. Winning
the slalom leg of the Arlberg-Kandahar
has meant a lot to him. For years, he skied
slightly obscured by the shadow of his
twin; but now, at least in slalom and giant
slalom, they stand together at the top and
the gold in Sarajevo is within either man’s
reach. He slips behind the wheel, revs the
engine once and pulls away.

The kids come out of the Post Hotel in
small groups, shepherded by the coaches.
As if by instinct, they flock around Billy
Johnson; he’s a leader now, part of the
future. As a downhill specialist, he did not
compete in the slalom today and so was
not in contention for the combined medal,
but this weekend has marked a quantum
jump for him. No more starting in 43rd
position; he'll be up with the big boys
now, with a decent chance to win, and
Sarajevo, which was a dream at the begin-
ning of the season, has turned into reality.

То some of the others, Sarajevo is а
question mark. Doug Powell, a veteran,
wonders if he will even make the team.
Andy Luhn wonders how fast his injuries
will heal and if he will be ready. John
Buxman wonders when all that natural
athletic ability is going to coalesce and
make him a winner. They walk to the
cars, passing through pools of light, and
the powder snow falls on their very young,
very serious faces.

“Та always heard you guys knew where to eat!”

BEAUTIFUL WINES

(continued from page 65)
interest. Eavesdrop on a conclave of Cali-
fornia wine professionals and you'll hear a
lot about microclimates, clonal selections,
budding over and drip irrigation. All of
that trade jargon points up one supremely
significant fact: West Coast vintners final-
ly haye a handle on matching particular
soils, climates, grape varieties and viticul-
tural practices for optimum results
process that evolved over centuries
Europe. American wine makers today are
also working with nobler grapes—more
Cabernet, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc,
Pinot Noir, Merlot and fewer of the medi-
ocre Burger, Chasselas and Thompson
seedless. And the grapes themselves are
more opulent, due to meticulous cloning —
which sounds like something out of an s-f
flick but simply means cultivating the
most desirable strain of a particular grape.
The cumulative effect of these advances,
plus innovative technology, has led to a
new California wine style.

It was at the legendary Paris tastings in
1976 that California wines won their
world-class spurs, outpointing the native
bottlings on their own turf. Impressive as
they were, those intense, tannic entries
presented consumers with problems. Be-
ing extremely forthright, they tended to
overwhelm accompanying dishes and tired
the palate quickly —and, even more disap-
pointing, their life spans proved to be
shorter than anticipated. The emerging
California style—wines of the past half-
dozen vintages—has tilted in a different
direction. The whites are more subtle,
with concentrated fruit and complex bou-
quets; the reds, balanced and well struc-
tured, are destined for a long, graceful
maturity. The catch phrase among vint-
ners for these new-generation vinos is food
wines, the implication being that lighter,
balanced wines are more amiable compan-
ions to standard luncheon or dinner dishes
than the muscular monsters of the early
Seventies.

Another inviting turn for those contem-
plating a California wine cellar is an
increasingly favorable price-quality ratio.
"Translation: This is the best time in the
past six or seven years for consumers to
snag worthy wines at bargain prices, and
opportunities will remain for a while. The
reason is an excess of inventory all along
the line, from the vineyards to retailers’
shelves. Where will the bargains be? Pret-
ty much across the board. Considerably
more excellent varietal grapes are going
into everyday selections—generic Burgun-
dies, Chablis and those labeled simply red
or white table wine. Robert Mondavi’s
Red Wine is 80 percent Cabernet, Fran-
ciscan’s Cask 321 contains 76 percent
Cabernet and Mirassou’s White Burgun-
dy is 80 percent Pinot Blanc. Rod Strong,
Sonoma Vineyard’s winemaster, expects

exceptional values in the five-to-nine-dol-
lar middle range, including Cabernets and
Chardonnays. They may not have the
finesse of the top bottlings, but they'll be
interesting, engaging wines. As to the
superpremiums, even vintners agree that
many have been overpriced; nevertheless,
changes in that group will be more erratic.
"The most illustrious labels, especially
where production is modest, will hold the
line—except on dealer close-outs. Be alert
and bide your time, but remember, noth-
ing's forever. Vintner Joseph Phelps secs
a Cabernet crunch coming, because very
few Cabernet vines have been planted
lately.

Playing the price curve is not the only
approach to wise wine buys. As in every-
thing, there are fashions in wine. Right
now, Chardonnay and Cabernet are con-
sidered chic, due in some degree to persist-
ent press coverage. The aura increases the
price one pays for those varieties. But
Pinot Blanc, Sauvignon Blancs and the
drier Chenin Blancs are agreeable stand-
ins for Chardonnay. Zinfandel, now out of
favor and therefore a push item, Merlots
and aged Petite Sirahs can be acceptable
alternatives to Cabernet Sauvignon. Bar-
bera, Gamay, Syrah and Charbono are
unsung reds that some vintners handle
deftly. Along with the plums, distress mer-
chandise will, inevitably, show up in
liquor shops. Be wary of unfamiliar
labels, manager’s specials where the clien-
tele is transient, dump bins and end-aisle
displays. Always try one bottle before
buying in volume. Perhaps your best bet
for capitalizing on today’s wine opportu-
nities is to establish rapport with a knowl-
edgeable, responsible merchant.

The term wine cellar in the context of
contemporary habitations is an anach-
ronism. What we're concerned with is a
place to stash wine in a reasonably pro-
tected environment—not a subterranean
dungeon. Given that realistic objective, it’s
feasible to improvise a wine cellar for
almost any tight little urban apartment.
Choice pieces of real estate for the purpose
include unused or half-empty closets, cup-
boards and recessed areas, such as nooks
under stairs and desks, or a corner of a den
that’s insulated. Light, heat, air and vibra-
tion are the natural enemies of wine, so
shun kitchens, laundry rooms, hot-water
or hot-air ducts and equipment such as
washing machines and dishwashers. Sun-
lit places are taboo, and closet or cupboard
doors should close readily to screen un-
wanted light. Guarding against air, which
oxidizes wine—turning it brown and bit-
ter—is а matter of laying bottles on their
sides so that the corks remain moist and
snug. While authoritative sources quote
55 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Cel-
sius) as the ideal storage temperature,
wine survives under less than optimum

conditions. Alexis Lichine contends that it
can handle temperatures up to 75 de-
grees Fahrenheit, though it will mature
sooner at the higher level. What causes
problems is a precipitous change in tem-
perature—either up or down. You might
leave the air conditioner on for your wines
when you're on vacation.

There’s no dearth of cunning racks,
tube arrangements or even controlled-
environment mechanical units that will
hold your wine securely. But wine or spir-
it shipping cases with corrugated dividers
are excellent temporary expedients.
They'll take 12 bottles each and are com-
pact and durable. Select sturdy cases and
tuck in the top flaps for extra reinforce-
ment. If you have that option, lay the more
delicate whites on the bottom, where it's
cooler; stack reds on top.

You'll want a cellar book to keep a
record of your purchases and pertinent
information on each wine, such as brand,
color, variety, vintage, price, source and
date of purchase and cellar location. Leave
space under each entry to inscribe the date
of opening and your sensory evaluation of
the wine. A plain loose-leaf notebook is
just right for the job.

Although California is indisputably
America's wineland, the rest of the
country is by no means a vinous desert.
"Therefore, we've included examples from
a number of other states in our sidebar
Wines for an American Cellar. The ones
listed are the standouts—culled from
more than 1000 tastings—bound to pro-
vide pleasure now and for years to come.

The red, white and rosé—long may

they wave!
El

WINES FOR AN AMERICAN CELLAR

Recommendations span a multitude
of price levels, qualities and pouring
situations—but all are tops in class.
Expect the prices listed to vary wildly
by store, season and gcography- All the
wines listed below are from California,
with the exception of those included in
the “Other States” category.

UP TOM

WHITE: E. & J. Gallo Cellars Ge-
wurztrãminer; Gavilan French Colom-
bard 1982; The Monterey Vineyard
Pinot Blanc 1980; Joseph Phelps Napa
Valley Vin Blanc. RED: Franciscan
Cask 321 Burgundy; Louis Martini
Barbera 1979; The Monterey Vine-
yard Classic Red 1980; , Riverside
Farm Zinfandel 1981. ROSE: Pedron-
celli Zinfandel Rosé 1982.

34 TO 16

"WHITE: Paul Masson Pinot Char-
donnay 1981; Mirassou Chenin Blanc
1982; Preston Cuvée de Fumé 1982,
Dry Creek; Wente Monterey Pinot
Blanc 1981. RED: Almaden Cabernet
Sauvignon 1978, 1980; Beaulieu Napa.
Burgundy 1978, Estate Bottled;
Charles F. Shaw Napa Gamay 1982;
Sutter Home Zinfandel 1980, Amador
County. ROSE: Simi Rosé of Cabernet
Sauvignon 1982.

46 TO 310.50

WHITE: Alexander Valley Vineyards
Chardonnay 1981; Chateau St. Jean
Sauvignon Blanc 1981, 1982; Ed-
meades Chardonnay Reserve 1980,
1981; Franciscan Chardonnay, Alex-
ander Valley 1981; Jekel Johannisberg
Riesling 1982, Monterey; Robert
Mondavi Napa Fume Blanc 1982;
Sonoma Vineyard Chardonnay 1980,

River West. RED: Beringer Cabernet
Sauvignon 1979, State Lane Vineyard;
Matanzas Creek Sonoma Merlot 1980;
Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon
1979, Napa; Ridge Zinfandel Fiddlc-
town 1980; Rutherford Hill Napa
Merlot 1978, 1980; Sterling Merlot
1979, Napa; Ventana Monterey Petite
Sirah 1979, 1981.

MORE THAN $10.50

WHITE: Acacia Chardonnay 1981,
all vineyards; Chalone Chardonnay
1981, Gavilan Mountains; Chateau St.
Jean Chardonnay 1980, Hunter
Ranch; Edna Vallcy Vincyards Char-
donnay 1981, San Luis Obispo; Jekel
Chardonnay 1981, Private Reserve;
Robert Mondavi Napa Chardonnay
1981; Spring Mountain Chardonnay
1981, Napa Valley. RED: Buena Vista
Cabernet Sauvignon 1979, Special Se-
lection; Clos du Val Cabernet Sauvi-
gnon 1978, Reserve; Durney Cabernet
Sauvignon 1978, 1979, Carmel Valley;
Joseph Phelps Cabernet Sauvignon
1978, Eiscle Vineyard; Smith & Hook
Cabernet Sauvignon 1981, Monterey;
Stag’s Leap Cellars Cabernet Sauvi-
gnon 1978, Cask 23; Vichon Cabernet
Sauvignon 1980, Volker Eisele Vine-
yards and Fay Vineyards; Jordan Ca-
bernet Sauvignon 1979, Alexander
Valley.

OTHER STATES

IDAHO: Ste. Chapelle Chardonnay
1981, $10.50. NEw YORK: Gold Scal
Chardonnay 1981, $10; Great Western
Seyval Blanc, $4. OREGON: Knudsen-
Erath Pinot Noir 1980, $9.50. VIRGIN-
ТА: Barboursville Chardonnay 1982,
$6.50. WASHINGTON: Chateau Ste.
Michelle Semillon 1981, 1982, $4.65.

151

PLAYBOY

182

DANCING BEARS м,

“She had us turning out our legs, stretching our ham-

strings, pointing our toes.”

he tried to grab her, but she flipped him
over her shoulder, like a sack of grain, and
he came down flat on his back.

It was as quiet as church for a second.
Marshall moaned on the deck. We was
waiting for the TV replay, I guess, be-
cause we didn’t believe what we'd seen.
Then I laughed, and everybody but Mar-
shall laughed. Finally, he laughed. The
lady didn’t laugh. Marshall got up real
slow, like an old man getting out of bed.

“Good shot," he said. “Where'd you
learn that one?”

“Line up at the dance barre, please,
gentlemen.” She pointed at the banister on
the field. “You will use that to steady
yourselves as wc go through the basic
positions. Move it, gentlemen; we don't
have all day. Sam? Music, please."

“Would you tell me what the fuck is
going on?" Tubby whispered to me.

“She knows judo, man," Marshall
chuckled.

“Get me a coach. Just get me a coach,”
Buster whined.

We heard some music. Soft, summer
music. There was a lot of violins and
things, which made us nervous. If it had
been country or rock or punk, that
would’ye been OK, but this was fruit
music.

“Swan Lake,” Geoff Ringer said.

"First position, gentlemen," the lady
called.

We stared at her. “What she say?"
Buster asked.

“First position, gentlemen. Heels to-
gether, feet turned out to make a single
straight line. Like this.” She stood like she
wanted us to.

“Tve had two knee operations,” I said.
"Im not getting into that.” Everybody
started grumbling.

The music stopped. The lady walked
up and down in front of us.

“Gentlemen, I have been hired by Mr.
Beaupray to condition your bodies and
your minds for movement. Notice I did not
say football. I said movement. Since foot-
ball involves movement, I am sure you
understand that by conditioning your-
selves for dance, you will also condition
yourselves for football." She stooped down
and plucked a blade of grass and chewed
on it while she talked.

“Gentlemen, we are here to build the
foundation for the Chicago Bears football
team. It takes years for a dancer to turn
his body into an instrument that can
express true grace. Years. We have only a
few months. But in that time, I will do my
best to mold your bodies into some sort of
shape.” She stopped for a minute. “I

promise you this: If you will work with
me, if you will do what I say, if you will
follow my conditioning rules—and that
includes rules for off the field as well as
on—I will help you grow from a pedestri-
an and unimaginative football team into a
troupe that is a reflection of the finest
things on this earth.”

“Say, lady, when do we get our real
coach?” Marshall asked.

“Mr. Chambers, you will get your real
coach when Mr. Beaupray decides, I sup-

“OK,” Marshall laughed.

“I will now show you the five funda-
mental positions as taught to all ballet stu-
dents, gentlemen. We will do some
warm-ups, some stretches, and then a lit-
tle improvisation. First position, comme
ça, do it along with me, please, gentlemen,
and hold on to the barre if you must."

What can 1 tell you about that after-
noon? She had us turning out our legs,
stretching our hamstrings, pointing our
toes, twinkling our feet. I hated fourth
position effacé and I thought my knees
would pop in fifth position. The entreckat,
the tour en l'air, thc rond de jambe—we
did them all, and damned if she didn’t talk
us into some simple pas de deux. If you
had come over the ridge and seen that foot-
ball field while we was practicing,
you'd've thought you was at a fat farm for
idiots. There was guys lifting each other
and prancing around and doing toe-
work, and after a while we sort of got into
it.

Marshall Chambers was probably the
best dancer we had. He took to it like a
duck to water. He did a great changement
de pieds.

She had us do a final drill to close up
the day. “Gentlemen,” she said, “I want
the entire team, one at a time, to move
down the field single file. The music will
be Tchaikovsky. I want to see you stretch
yourselves, express yourselves, improvise.
Just move as the music moves you. We'll
start with you, Mr. Drombowski, and
then the rest can follow. An interval of ten
yards, please.”

Well, it was a sight, all right. I still
laugh when I think of it. There we was,
supposedly tough as nails, the meanest
and the greatest, the guys who everybody
had made a fuss over since we was big
enough to play pony ball, the studs who
the cheerleaders loved to hug, the speed
takers and beer drinkers and coke snort-
ers, and what we looked like as we tried to
dance to that music was somcthing clsc.
Lord, we was awkward.

We stumbled and jumped and tripped

and fell and faked it, but the guys thought
they was dancing up a storm. Junior Kirk
started leaping all over the place like a
castrated арс, bouncing into the dance
barre and us and the lady, stinking up the
field with his clumsiness, but believe it or
Not, she didn’t care. She encouraged him.
She ran right alongside him. "That's
right, let yourself go, touch the sky, reach
for it, use your body, feel it, every muscle,
listen to your rhythms, let your body talk
for once, don’t worry, don’t worry, you
look fine!” Junior collapsed after about 60
yards of that shit, but he looked happy.

When the lady called us over to the
bench for a final talk, she gave us a look
that was laser:

“You may fancy that you are in good
physical condition. Let me assure you that
you are not. You may assume you under-
stand movement. You know little of it.
Flexibility? As we saw from the exercises
I asked you to do, most of you could not
touch the hem of Flexibility's garment.
Endurance, timing, strength, perception,
coordination? You show me few of those
qualities. As of today, that changes. Life is
a dance. Let us learn to dance.” She
paused. “Any questions?”

We was too tired to ask anything. We
dragged ourselves off to the showers and
dinner. Later that night, there was a lot of
talk about the afternoon, but there was
more talk about who the new coach would
be. We had a betting pool on it.

“At case, men, at case,” Mr. Beaupray
smiled the next morning. He wore his
usual suit and vest even in the hot weath-
er. He was a tall man who looked like he
combed his hair with money. He had
steel-rimmed glasses and slicked-down
hair and blue eyes and gray-blond eye-
brows.

“Coldest fish in the ocean,” Marshall
whispered to me.

“And the richest,” I whispered back.

“Men, Рт а man of few words, and as
you know, I leave the coaching to the
coaches. I'm proud to introduce your new
coach this morning. Open the door, Sam,”
Mr. Beaupray said. Sam opened the door.
In she walked, all gussied up in a suit,
carrying a briefcase. Her nibs. The judo
lady. The ballet bouncer. “Gentlemen, the
new head coach of the Chicago Bears—
Maria Dancing Bear.”

I didn’t know what to do. Neither did
the rest of the team. Mr. Bcaupray was
clapping, and Sam was sort of clapping
with him, but we was paralyzed. It was
embarrassing. Mr. Beaupray made it
worse by raising his hands before he
spoke, as if there was something to
silence.

“Coach Dancing Bear, it’s an honor to
welcome you aboard the Chicago Bears
football team. Гуе watched you perform,
read your fine book about dance, I’ve even
worked out at your health spa in Arizona,
and I am here to tell these men that you've.
changed my life, changed my perception of

iY W

MI
M
i) / hl

on certain

lent.

to question why,
the master is si

“Tt is not for us
mornings,

153

PLAYBOY

what constitutes exercise, diet, sportsman-
ship—even manhood. It is fitting that you
already are our namesake. A Dancing
Bear to coach the Chicago Bears." Mr.
Beaupray applauded again, and we did,
too, in sort of a half-assed way.

“Thank you,” Maria Dancing Bear
said. “Gentlemen, ГЇЇ see you on the prac-
tice field in half an hour. No pads. Any
questions?”

Marshall jumped up, even though I
was trying to hold him down. “Yeah, I got
a question. What I want to know is, uh,
what kind of offense will you put in?”

“Ill be primarily the same, Mr.
Chambers, but you won’t be allowed to
scramble until you equalize your body,”
she said.

“Say what?”

“Jt became clear to me yesterday after-
noon that you are overdeveloped on your
right side and quite weak on your left
Therefore, as the films show, уоште
scrambling to your right ninety-three per-
cent of the time, which gives the defense
too much of an advantage. I expect you to
work from the pocket until we get your
body in shape, sir."

“Uh-huh,” Marshall said, like he was
shell-shocked.

“We're going to run the receivers a lit-
tle deeper, split the zone, wear the de-
fense out. We're going to move better than
the other team and be in better shape than
the other team.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have a fine throwing arm, Mr.
Chambers, but you're quite constricted in
your neck and shoulders, and it takes you
too long to see all your receivers. You're
turning your entire body just to look from
left to right. We'll be doing some exercises
to improve that condition. Your stride has
lost a foot in the past two years, if my
measurements from the films are correct.
You need a lot of stretching at the dance
barre before you'll be allowed to do any
more contact work. I don’t think you
throw to your tight ends enough; but then
I don’t think your tight ends are limber
enough to get open when they should. It's
not the choice of formation that matters, if
you follow me. It’s the grace with which
that formation is executed.”

“Uh-huh.”

Marshall sat down very slowly, like he
had just seen his own funeral.

“Any other questions?” Mr. Beaupray
laughed. “No? Again, welcome aboard,
Coach Dancing Bear.” He shook her hand
and left the locker room. Sam followed.
Then Coach Dancing Bear.

"Coach Dancing Bear?”
whooped when the doors closed.

“I can't do it!” Buster Slade yelled.

“A woman?” Tubby Reardon hit his
locker. “A goddamn woman! I never let a
woman tell me a goddamn thing all my
life.”

“How’s she going to know the first
thing?” Buster asked.

Marshall

“Come on, boys,” Marshall said, “we
could do worse. Let’s go out there and
point our pretty little toes.”

Tubby and Buster stayed inside for the
morning. I guess it was a protest on their
part, but Coach Dancing Bear didn’t even
ask about them. She just got down to the
nitty-gritty.

ГИ tell you something: I'd trade 16 of
Red Emerson's practices to one of Coach
Dancing Bear’s. That's the truth. Red
could make us sweat and bleed, but Maria
Dancing Bear damned near made us die. I
never knew how maximum hard it is to
dance right. But by the end of the summer,
I was in better shape than I ever was
before. I could just feel it. I was slimmer
but stronger, and Га adjusted to Coach
Dancing Bear's new diet: corn on corn оп
corn, grains and fruits and nuts and herb
teas and whole-wheat bread and nibbles
but no gorging. "Losing weight is like los-
ing poison for a healthy person," Coach
Dancing Bear preached at us.

Pre-season went ОК. We was rusty.
She was just getting the hang of it. We got
a lot of delay-of-game penalties and shit
like that. We warmed up to $шап Lake
before the games, and that got a lot of.
laughs, but we didn't care. We got to
dance with the Honey Bears in the warm-
ups. Most of them had taken a lot of bal-
let. They was good dancers, and they
helped us. It's a hell of a lot more fun to
warm up with a beautiful woman than to
have some asshole teammate breathing
зпи on you and hitting your shoulder
pads.

When the season started for real, we
was running the same plays as usual,
nothing fancy, but we was running them
better. I was hitting crisper, cleaner, fast-
er. The defense could move like smoke in
the wind. And the offense was like a per-
petual-motion machine, They scored and
scored. Marshall was throwing long and
short, in and out, bullets and balloons.

We could run most of the other teams
into the ground, We didn’t have many
injuries and we didn’t need time outs to
catch our breath. So what if the fans
thought we looked like fruitcakes when we
warmed up? So what if they wanted the
Honey Bears out of their leotards and
back in their skimpy suits? And who gave
a damn that a long, tall American Indian
princess was coaching us? We got the job
done, didn’t we?

We won our first five games. The fans
in Soldier Field started to cheer us more
than they booed us. That was a first. The
city of Chicago began to take us for real.
But we knew the acid test was just ahead.
We had to beat the Dallas Cowboys to
prove ourselves, and we hadn't done that
for a very long time.

Now, I work on the belief that Dallas
does not have football players on its team.
It has replicants dressed up like football
players. They run on microchips. They

eat silicon for breakfast. They get pro-
duced in a secret factory near the King
Ranch and they get shipped into Dallas by
truck. There's a big warehouse some-
where in that city with trunkfuls of repli-
cants waiting to get wound up and sent
out to play football for the Cowboys. Just
thinking about playing Dallas put me in
the middle of a dark place, I can tell you. 1
was even thinking about eating a lot of
junk food and tanking up on beer and
going back to free weights and bulk. 1
looked at the Dallas films and I wanted to
tell Coach Dancing Bear that we was
going to get waltzed right out of the stadi-
um if we didn’t go back to our old ways in
a hurry.

When I get depressed, I tend not to
notice things, and I guess 1 was thinking
too much about the Dallas game. That's
why I didn’t see the headphones in my
helmet when I put it on for Monday’s
practice. Then Sam came up to me.
“Dewey,” he said, “you want to hook up,
please?”

“Say what, Sam?”

“Hook up, Dewey.” He handed me a
cable running from the back of my pants.
He fed it up under my shoulder pads and
connected it to the back of my helmet.

Lord, it was gorgeous. The music
poured over me. I just stood there for a
minute. Sam was grinning at me. Then I
took my helmet off. Sure enough, there
was a set of headphones inside. And the
cable led down to a cassette player that
had been built into my hip pads. Sam
showed me how to turn it on and off by
flipping the switch.

“Goddamn, Sam,” I said, “this is far
out. Are all the Bears wearing these here
things today ?"

“You bet, Dewey.”

Well, that was the weck that was, if
you know what I mean. Coach Dancing
Bear had gone and put headphones into
our helmets and cassette players into our
pants, and we got choreographed more
than we got coached, let me tell you. We
learned to synchronize the tapes, to run
plays to music, to trap and block and tack-
le and run and catch to Bizet and Bach
and Mozart and all them fellows. It was
like we had cranked the game up to anoth-
er level. We ran sweeps to Strauss, off-
tackle plunges to Prokofiev, pass plays to
Brahms. Kickoffs were by Bartok, because
Milos Nagy, our Hungarian kicker, liked
him best, but I’m here to tell you that
Barték is not easy to play to. I was on the
suicide squad a few times, and Bartok
messed me up with all his funny rhythms.
We got a lot of offside penalties to Bartók.
We worked with Copland and Stravinsky
and Webern and, every once in a while, if.
we was way ahead, Debussy.

There were some problems, of course.
On the day we first played the Cowboys
and they realized what we was up to, they
got their lawyers to call the commissioner
of the N.F.L. and argue we was breaking

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PLAYBOY

the rules with our headsets. What rules?
Every jogger in the world wears head-
phones these days. Why not football play-
ers? We weren’t in radio communication
with each other or nothing. The commis-
sioner didn’t bite. He let us play like we'd
been practicing.

Technically, we smoothed out the kinks
and didn’t have too much trouble. If a
cassette got busted in a collision, it was
easy to replace. Same with the head-
phones. Once in a while, a tape would jam
or speed up; but, hell, you could spot the
person with that problem: He'd be out of
sync.

What we had, good buddies, was a team
that was coordinated down to the last
eighth note. And that's why we beat the
Cowboys the first time. We were precise,
if you know what I mean.

After we beat the Cowboys 21-17, we
went on to beat the Vikings, the Cardi-
nals, the Giants, the 49ers, the Lions, the
Fagles and the Packers and the Vikings
again. We got into the play-offs for the
Super Bowl, Super Bowl XX. And, yes,
we found ourselves playing the Dallas
Cowboys in the semifinals, and this time,
it was in their stadium.

We flew down to the heart of Texas. I
thought we had it made. I said as much
when I talked to Howard Cosell on the
day of the game. “We beat them once and
we can do it again," I said. Howard
allowed as how that was a perspicacious
contention that he hoped would manifest
itself in the turbulence we were about to
witness. “What are you talking about,
Howard?” I asked him, but they had to
break for a commercial and I never did get
an answer.

"Then again, I forgot all about Howard
Cosell right about that moment, because
the Cowboys came onto the field for their
first warm-ups, and I thought I was going
to die. I swear my heart stopped. Because
they didn’t have no supercool coaches
leading them. No, sir. And they didn’t
have no mascot, nobody dressed up like a
cowboy, no cheerleader or oil baron. What
they did have was the stadium loud-speak-
ers blaring the music from Jerome Rob-
bins’ ballet The Four Seasons. Andstanding
there behind the goal post, poised and
pretty, almost naked in a grape-colored
tunic, was somebody we all recognized by
then: Mikhail Baryshnikov.

“Oh, I said. “Them copycats
done stole our idea.”

Yes, sir, we might have done our warm-
ups to Swan Lake, but Baryshnikov led
the Cowboys out into Texas Stadium to do
a much more complicated and tough piece
of work. I never saw anything like it
before, and I knew then that us Chicago
Bears was going to have a long afternoon.
"The Cowboys was fighting fire with fire.

Ihave the warm-up on video tape. I run
it back once in a while when it’s the mid-

156 dle of winter and Pm snowed in here and

there’s nothing to do but remember. Ba-
ryshnikov was dressed as Bacchus, and the
Cowboys did a frenzied orgy kind of thing
with the cheerleaders while he made
moves that took the guts of a stunt man
and the grace of a god. He did leaps and
turns and grand pirouettes until I got diz-
zy, grand pirouettes with his knee bent at
every angle and with sautés on his work-
ing leg. Sometimes he would stop in the
middle of a pirouette, just hold it à la se-
conde, then go on spinning like a top. And
the Cowboys was not doing a bad job of
following him with the same goddamn
moves. Tony Dorsett looked like Barysh-
nikov’s shadow sometimes, ГЇЇ tell you.

Us Bears just stood and watched. Most
of us was thinking about the Super Bowl
ring we would never wear. It was just like
them Cowboys to outdo and outspend us.

After warm-ups, we went back into the
locker room to pout, but damned if Coach
Dancing Bear wasn’t smiling the biggest
smile I ever saw. "Wasn't Baryshnikov
terrific?” she grinned.

“Yeah,” we all kind of grumbled.

“We've changed the game of football,
gentlemen.”

Credit to Marshall. He’s the one who
called her on her happiness. “So what,
Coach?" Marshall stood up. "We're going
to lose, probably. They got the best dancer
in the world coaching them, all due
respect. They got the bodies, they got the
skills. They took our idea, and they'll run
with it.”

“Marshall, let me ask you a question:
So what?"

Of course, Marshall didn't know what
to do with that one, so he just sort of
blinked and looked around for help.
“Ма'ат?” he asked.

“You say we'll probably lose this game.
So what?”

“So we don’t get to the Super Bowl. So
we don’t get the bread and the glory. You
think I’m in this for the fun of it,
Coach?"

“I think that's the only reason to be
anywhere, Marshall.” Coach Dancing
Bear stared at him for a long time. It was
real quiet. “I think you men saw this
game of football grow to be fun again. Am
I right? Well, why should that stop now?
Because you're going to lose, perhaps?
The score will take care of itself. You’re
going to be so interested in the movement
of the game that you’re not going to know
the score,” She paused. “Now get your
bones out there and give us a game!”

Some people say it was the best game of
football they ever saw, because both teams
was in such good shape and had such coor-
dination. And it wasn’t a mean game. It is
impossible to be really mean when you're
surrounded by beautiful music and when
you respect the human body. And the way
Coach Dancing Bear had taught us, we
did respect the other fellow, no matter the
team he was on. There was no late hits, no
spikes, no blind-side blocks, no head slaps.

The game flowed like a dance, which is
what it was.

I admired the way the players moved
and the cheerleaders danced and the refer-
ees floated through us, and damned if 1
didn’t start to admire the movement in the
crowd—the way a mother would tuck a
baby on her hip while she walked up the
stadium steps, the way a father would hug
a son after a good play, the way the dis-
abled vet by the oxygen tanks could wheel
himself in pirouettes of his own making.

I grew a century in understanding in
those few hours, and what ГЇЇ never forget
is that I felt OK even while losing. I can
honestly say that it was the game that
mattered, not the score.

After we lost and we was all shaking
hands and things, I suddenly realized that
Iwas through with football, that I'd had it
as good as it would ever get.

“Im hanging it up,” I told Coach
Dancing Bear in the locker room.

“I may do that, too, Dewey,” she
smiled.

“I’m going back to the farm and fit into
the dance," I said.

“Sounds good to me,” she said.

“Every damn N.E.L. team will have a
ballet coach next year,” I said.

“Probably.”

“They'll be doing TV commercials for
credit cards and beer. Geoff will write a
book about the season and go on tour with
it. Marshall will cut an album. Do I need
that? I just had the best afternoon of my
life, Coach, and I don't need to гий

directes eM die sto RUE
and confusion, but it was still noisy in the
locker room. The guys wasn't hanging
their heads. What the hell; we'd played
like champions, and to ourselves, we was
champions. The game was something
we'd be proud to tell our kids about.

I hung around after my shower, after
the locker room thinned out and nobody
was left but Sam. I'd shaken hands with
everybody and we'd all lied about how
we'd keep in touch, about how we'd have a
reunion of the Bears team that almost
went to the Super Bowl. “ ’Bye,” I said to
my gear. I confess I did take my helmet
with me. I packed my ditty bag and
walked out the door and came back here to
Paris.

My dad and I farm 750 acres under
contract. We raise corn and soybeans.
DecAnn, my wife now, has kept her job at
the hospital, so we're staying alive.

Every once in a while, when nobody's
looking, І climb to the top of the old wind-
mill by the horse barn. I just hang there,
listening to the wind, surveying the coun-
tryside. Sometimes I put on my old Bears
helmet and crank up the cassette and lis-
ten to Mozart or Bach or Beethoven.

Life is a dance? You bet your booties it

is.

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PLAYBOY

158

FORKY (continued from page 64)

“She hands me my drink and I think how much I like
brown eyes, the way they take you deep down.”

young and fat, chewin’ gum. Then we're
alone. In the kitchen, she pours us gin,
and in this light, I see the crow’s-feet at
the corner of her eyes, the tiny hard look of
her hands as she cuts the limes. I look at
the walls, at all the kiddie drawings lining
the room, and I see me and Marty sluggin"
it out over a box of crayons. She hands me
my drink and I think how much I like
brown eyes, the way they take you deep
down somewhere, and then it just comes
out.

“Pye spent the last seven years of my
life in the joint.” She don’t say nothin’.
Just looks at me.

“Prison,” 1 say. For an instant, I see
myself back on the street, breathin' the
cold, headin' for the north side of town,
back to my one room where I gotta keep
the shades down so the streetlight don’t
keep me up. Then her cyes take me
deeper.

“Гуе spent that time working and rais-
ing two kids, mostly alone."

“Yeah, but I was in jail.”

“And I was married.” We laugh, and I
feel shaky again. She sees it. So we sit and
drink our gi

Јоһппу' pulled all the boys together
after mess and told ’em how short I was. A
few of ’em came in one at a time during
the night. Mac brought me a milk carton
full of raisin jack. And he only stayed for a
shot. He had cight more to go before
parole, but he was warm, man.

“You motherfucker, Fork. Take care a
yourself.”

Valdez and Leary came in together
Valdez was like always, dark-eyed and
quiet, but Leary was talkin’ like a sonuva-
bitch.

“Man, it ain’t gonna be the same,
Forky. Who's gonna be the great white
hope now, motherfucker? Who's gonna
put it to "em like you done?"

“ Johnny's in trainin’ for the spot, ain't
уа, John boy?"

"Damn straight," Johnny said. Then
he took a deep one off the jack. He looked.
so little there then, and I was sorry I said
it. I offered them some jack, but they knew
how tight me and Johnny was and they
didn’t want to work on our last bottle
together.

“Well, what the hell, Fork.” Leary
gave me his hand. “Get some for me, man.
Hot and juicy.” On the way out, Valdez
handed me his crucifix and gave me sort of
a bow, like he was Chinese or somethin’.

Johnny passed me the carton and I had

all my shit taken care of, so I swallowed
two or three times. Man, it was Mac’s
best, like brandy.

“You going back East, Forky?”

“I don’t know, man. 1 been thinkin’
about hangin’ out on the eastern slope
awhile. I mean, shit, Johnny. You're a
short timer, too! Hell, almost as short as
me! I was thinkin’ about hangin’ around
till you’re processed out. Then, what the
hell, you and me go back East and let em
know what's fuckin’ what, you and me,
Johnny."

I passed the jack back, feelin’ for the
first time a lot bigger and a little older,
and it gave me a kind of shudder. That's
when I handed him my shank. He had the
carton held to his mouth, and when he saw
it, he stopped. Then he looked straight
ahead and drank.

“You usc it, motherfucker.”

He was smilin’ at me.

“If the man comes, put it in his fuckin’
gut. No hesitation.”

He was sittin’ there lookin’ at me, look-
in’ small and wise again. And I knew that
he'd keep it in his fuckin’ house, that he
wouldn’t carry it.

“I ain’t bullshittin’, Johnny.” He took
another swig, then passed it back to me.

“Hey, Fork.” He reached over and
started ѕсгаісһіп my head. "What's
this?”

“It's your fuckin’ ass-wipin' hand."

“Nope. It’s a brain eater.”

“Yeah, so?"

“What’s it doing?”

“Beats me, Johnny boy.” Then he looks
me in the face, real serious, already a little
glassy with the jack.

“Starving.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Fork.” I could see his
face holdin’ back the laugh.

“What’s starvin'?" Then he let loose,
laughin’ like no tomorrow, rollin’ back-
ward on the bed.

“You're one sorry sonuvabitch, Forky!”
He had his legs drawn up to his chest, and
the veins were showin’ in his forehead.

“Remind me never to send any of my
brain-eating friends over to you for
chow.” He stretched out his legs, then
went into his high-pitched laugh.

“I don’t think they'd get by on cob-
webs!”

I looked at his little body shakin’ on the
mattress. Then I got it but lifted the carton
quick, so he couldn't see me smile.

I look at myself in the mirror. Not bad.

Still lean. I look at her deodorants and
perfumes, her floss and skin cream, and I
wonder how I got here. Then I find the
pink razor and I use soap and hot water
and shave as close as I can. But she uses it
on her legs and I cut myself twice on the
chin. And I feel the same way I did with
Bertha back in Jersey 11 years ago. She
was big and black, and she'd been takin”
kids’ cherries for years. The neighborhood
man maker. Marty had it all fixed up,
and I think I only spent two hours in the
bathroom before. Shavin’, zit cream, after-
shave, mouthwash, deodorant, and I final-
ly decided to keep my rubbers tucked in
my skivvies for quick reference. I’m more
than nervous, but there’s somethin’ else. I
check my face. There’s somethin’ else. I
wait until the blood stops, then I go to her
room.

She’s ' up in bed, smokin’, the
sheet coverin' her, and I like how small
her shoulders look. But I’m rubbery all
over, and I feel a sudden urge to just sit
across the room and let somebody else do
it

“I thought people got fat in jail.”

I suck in my gut, then show her my
arms. She laughs. I drop my skivs and
slide in next to her. She reaches over to the
bedstand and passes me a drink. I see she's
already got one.

“I need this," I say.

“Seven years is a long time.”

“Seven and a half. I feel like Rip van
Winkle.” I laugh.

“You don't look it." She's smilin’. And
I think how confident she looks knowin’
she’s gonna be the one to give it to me. I
down the rest and pass her back my
glass.

I woke up dry and heavy-eyed from the
jack. And Pd already pissed and washed
before it hit me all at once; hit me in my
stomach, my finger tips and toes, my
hung-over head that, man, I was never
gonna wake up in this fuckin' place again!
I was hyper as a sonuvabitch. Ripped the
sheet and blanket off my bed. Rolled the
mattress and put it against the wall.
Folded the linen and put it on the springs.
Then grabbed my shavin’ kit and bounced
on my toes a few times before the cells
opened. My escort guard was late, so I
decided to head down to processing my-
self.

D block had been mine. And movin’
through it, I memorized the faces, the
cells, the clean tile and gray brick. Some of
the guys slapped me on the back or
punched me light in the arm.

“Do it, motherfucker.”

“Taste it, Fork.”

And when I got to the passage at C, 1
fought it and didn’t turn around. I was
walkin’ pretty fast, breathin’ real easy,
and I was halfway through C before I
noticed. Nobody was around. Even slow
Joe Fernandez was up and outa his cell.

But there was more. Somethin' else. And 1
did what I always did when 1 felt that way
in the joint—I reached around and
checked my shank. I felt my belt and my
skin through my shirt. Then I remember
and Pm runnin’. The first part а B is
empty, too. Then I sce 'em, all crowded
around, a bunch a blue shirts, and I plow
into 'em. Watch it, motherfucker! I'm
pushin’ to the center and I feel the way 1
used to get with Marty jumpin’ the bridge
for the bay; you’re free-fallin’ and you
want to hurry up and hit, 'cause the
weight of your whole body has moved up
to your head, but at the same time, you
don’t want to stop movin’. Then I see his
feet and I scream, “No, motherfucker!
No!” And she’s outa bed and she’s holdin’
me and 1 swing away from her and slam
my head into her wall and it ain’t brick,
the fuckin’ wall ain't brick! Then I'm up
and reelin’. I’m in the cell and the first
guard is still cuttin’ Johnny’s hands loose,
and I scream, “No, motherfucker! No,
motherfucker! No!” And his face is blue
and gray, like candle wax, and his eyes are
bulged out like a fuckin’ fish, and I'm
swingin’ and she’s sayin’, “Shut up! My
kids!” And the guards’re holdin’ me and 1
pull away and wrap my arms around little
Johnny and he smells the way he did
when I hugged him in the hall, when 1
said the words and he fuckin’ said ‘em
back! Like a boy! Then the other smell
hits me, and I know if the motherfuckers
could write, it'd be TO FORKY, BEST WISHES,
LEROY AND WALLACE. And I want to die.
And I want them dead. And I want them
dead through me, and the guards’re hold-
in’ me and the doc’s puttin’ it in my arm,
and I scream, “No! No!" And she’s
dressed and she’s pullin’ me, the door’s
shut and I reach for the curtain, but the
water's beatin’ down on me cold and I
think how they must've done it right after
lights out. He's so cold, so fuckin’ cold.

“Johnny, you sonuvabitch. You're al-
most as short as me, you sonuvabitch.
Johnny. You sonuvabitch.”

She’s with me. All wet. And she’s got
eye make-up on her cheeks. She ain’t
dressed anymore, and I just keep cryin’. I
see the letter about Marty. I kept it for
almost a year and I thought I'd cry, but I
never did. And 1 feel the weight of the
hole, 90 days and still not a tear. I was ten
and it was hot out. You had to have shoes
on in the street, and you couldn't lean
against the cars without a shirt. And I
kept bringin’ the bucket back into the
kitchen, fillin’ it up, then back outside and
Fd throw half on my friend and he'd
dump half on me, then I did it again and
again. And Ma was sick and she came out
smellin' funny and her hair was all messed
up and her face was white and she slapped
my face and said, “I hate you!" I ran out-
side, and it came out of me like a flood.

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PLAYBOY

KICKING BACK

(continued from page 90)
real quick.” Justine herself isn’t really
interested in getting anywhere too quickly.
She’s currently ona regimen of introspec-
tion that includes lots of music, a little
poetry, a daily journal and some deep
meditation in front of the household fish
tank. At the age of 20, there are things to
think over, to sort out. 105 an age that
comes on abruptly, leaving you stunned
and wondering how you got there.

“When I was younger,” Justine re-
members, “1 don't know what I really saw
myself becoming. I think 1 saw myself liv-
ing in a nice house, with a nice car and a
cute husband. That’s how I always imag-
ined myself. I don't think I ever imagined
myself as being one certain thing. 1
thought I'd find that out later, that it
would come to me. Something would hit
me across the head and say, This is
what you should be.' I never had some-
thing that I wanted to be or someone I
wanted to be like.

“At one point, I was thinking about
going into resort management. You know,
get involved with Club Med or something
like that. I'd still like to do that, I think.
Modeling is easy, but that’s not what I'd
want to do forever. Right now, it’s good
for me, because my face is still young and I

can work with it.”

The truth is that her possibilities are
endless, a condition that can be at once
liberating and paralyzing. Justine, if
she takes any steps at all, always takes
them one at a time; stability is important
to her now. She has pared her friends
down toa few good ones. She is organizing
her life. For the time being, she is content
to be an observer, taking it all in and try-
ing to make it relate to her.

“If you don’t know yourself, you can’t
really do what will make you happy. I
think I know myself pretty well, but
there’s definitely much for me to learn.
As things come up and I see how I react to
them, then ГЇЇ know myself better. I’m
still learning, you know. There are a lot of
people who don’t even care about knowing
themselves.”

The process of self-discovery takes a lot
of energy and time. Justine is long in both
suits.

“1 haven't heard any calls yet. Maybe
next year,” she laughs. “Soon, I suppose,
something will strike me and I'll have to
do something about it or just get frus-
trated. But nothing's really hit me yet. I
mean, 1 feel my being here is important,
but what it's important for hasn't yet been
decided; it's yet to be determined."

/
б

СЛ?

“You act like you've never seen a Presidential
у f е,
seal before!”

101 NIGHTS WITH JOFINNY
(continued from page 56)

is—would surface.

Once, for instance, she was paired with
Don Rickles. *How's your mother?" she
asked him.

“She lives in a condo in Miami," he
answercd.

*Oh, Miami Beach," cooed Carol.
""Thar's God's little waiting room." Rick-
les liked the line so much he had it needle-
pointed and framed and hung it on his
mother's wall.

It was the strange mixture of the stereo-
typical dumb blonde who also has a pen-
chant for the inspired and unpredictable
one-liner that would leave the audience—
and probably her fellow panelists—won-
dering just how much of Carol was real
and how much was an act.

“This is not an act,” she insists, sound-
ing as if Little Annie Fanny had come to
life. “This is it. This is who I am, It’s no
box of chocolates.”

Perhaps her life is no Whitman’s Sam-
pler, but it’s been a good living. Besides
The Tonight Show, she has appeared in
dozens of episodes of Love, American
Style, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., I Spy
and numerous game shows and movies.
“Tm also famous for being the bunny rab-
bit on Bewitched,” she maintains. “Paul
Lynde was Uncle Arthur, and he turned
Tabitha’s bunny into me.”

Meryl Streep might not want to make
that claim, but Carol is well suited to her
career and reputation. “I’m a second
answer on Family Feud,” she says proud-
ly. “They asked a family, ‘Name five
people in show business named Wayne.’ 1
was second, right after John Wayne. 1
mean, Wayne Newton, Wayne Rogers,
they were way down the line. I was sec-
ond. That is, I have broad appeal"—she
bats her eyelashes to emphasize the word
broad. “That's what Fred Silverman said
about me."

Much of that appeal—and that talent
for double-entendres—was displayed at its
best on The Tonight Show. “We were
always pleased when the ‘Tea Time Mov-
ie’ sketch came along,” claims Freddie de
Cordova, the show’s executive producer,
“Carol is a thorough professional and
much more intelligent than those silly
parts she played."

It’s a compliment she is quick to return.
“Johnny’s the best, He knows exactly
what he's doing and he does it very well."
Carol hasn't been on the show since Car-
son cut it back to one hour in 1981, but she
says there are no hard feelings. “Мо,
always soft and warm and toasty feelings
lthank him for what he's given me—he’s
given me the best past life.

“The amazing thing about being on
The Tonight Show was that Johnny never
actually figured me out,” Carol explains
“I always threw him off, so it was always
spontancous. I don’t have an act; I only

talk about myself and what's going on in
my life. And I only tell the truth, because I
talk in my sleep and everyone would
know. I was always fresh to him, and I did
it for 13 or 14 years.

“You live and die on that show. Even
though you’re pre-interviewed, it’s never
the same. Johnny has the audience all on
his side. If he thinks you're funny, the
whole audience thinks you're funny. You
live and die with him. He’s always loved
me, and I’ve always loved him back. It’s
always been real good between us."

In fact, host and guest hit it off so well
onstage, it seemed only logical they'd get
together offstage. "There was always bad
timing," sighs Carol, who, like Carson,
has been married and split three times.
“We were never not together when we
were apart,” she says, which translates
from Waynese into "We were never be-
tween spouses at the same time." She sighs
again. "Maybe it was the best timing.”

If pressed, Carol can get both mystical
and misty about Johnny. “Не loves me,”
she says. “I love him. It’s an understand-
ing, a given. He still sees me every day in
his dreams. When he shuts his eyes, what
does he see? Me.”

What all that really means will proba-
bly never be clear—it's part of Carol's act
that isn’t really an act. And it’s a situation
that’s enhanced by her unusual, sexy
squeak of a voice, which can make inno-
cent statements seem suggestive and sug-
gestive statements almost Disneylike.

“My whole family has this voice,”
whispers Carol “Now, this will be an
amazing story to you. My sister, Nina—
with this voice—is a telephone operator;
in fact, almost a supervisor. To think that
you get my sister as a super when you ask
for help at the telephone company. .

Nina, who is 12 months and 12 days
younger than the 41-year-old Carol, was
also in show business, appearing in the
forgettable Camp Runamuck TV series.
The two sisters were raised as virtual
twins, sentenced to a life as performers by
a worried mother.

"Remember the polio scare?" asks
Carol. “Му mother thought that no polio
germs could live in an ice rink.” Such
healthful logic resulted in years of ice-
skating lessons. “Our grandmother made
all of our clothes. We were never in fash-
ion. We were Chinese one year, Pilgrims
another. We did shadow skating, and
because we were tall and had long legs
and stupid ponytails, we were offered a
professional contract when we were 15
and 16. Yes, we didn’t finish high school.
Yes, zip education.”

For three years, the “nerd Wayne sis-
ters” did their 42-city tour with the Ice
Capades—that is, until the big accident
“See this?” Carol says, pointing to a five-
inch scar on her knee. “Sometimes, people
would unconsciously or perhaps on pur-
pose throw pennies that would stick on the
ice and make you"—she claps her hands
nursery-rhyme style—“all fall down. It

was a very unforgiving sport. When your
blades hit something that wasn't meant to
be, you crashed."

While she later returned to the Ice
Capades to finish the tour, it was the end
of the duo’s skating career. For Carol, it
was just as well. “When you train for
something so young and become good at it,
you never know if that’s what you were
meant to be or if it was just because it was
someone else’s idea. I missed a childhood
because of it.”

Nina and Carol found jobs in Las
Vegas with the Folies-Bergere. “We were
two pretty girls with no education. There
was nothing else to do,” Carol says.

Although there were probably few polio
germs backstage at the Tropicana, their
mother was not necessarily pleased.
“Girls,” she complained, “could you ask
them for a couple more feathers?”

Las Vegas was close enough to Los
Angeles to get the pair discovered by Hol-
lywood. “My sister and I would always go
to L.A. when we got off, so to speak,”
Carol explains. “One time, I went to a
party and а man said to me, ‘We're look-
ing for a girl just like you.” I thought, Sure
they are. He said, ‘Meet me at Desilu
studios in the morning,’ and I did, just
being silly. They gave me a screen test and
I got the part. And I got all my parts ever
since then.”

Las Vegas had already introduced Car-
ol to husband number one. Less than a
year after the wedding, they split. “Skat-
ing taught me to be limber,” she says
cryptically, “but this marriage really
taught me how to be flexible.”

Hollywood was the scene for marriage
number two, this one to rock artist and
photographer Barry Feinstein. When they
met, Feinstein was married to Mary
Travers, of Peter, Paul and Mary (Carol
still likes to refer to the trio as Peter, Paul
and Scary). After he and Travers got 2
divorce, Carol found herself dividing her
time among a brand-new son, Alex, the
music world her husband inhabited as an

album designer and concert photographer
and her acting career.

Seven years later, Carol claims, she
tired of the rock existence—"the Frye
boots, the Levi’s—I couldn't stand the
whole New York cowboy thing anymore."
Feinstein became, in Carol's words, “my
second-to-last ex-husband.”

Her last ex-husband, provided she nev-
er marries and divorces again, was Burt
Sugarman, who produced the long-run-
ning rock TV show The Midnight Spe-
cial. That marriage ended in 1980.

Today, Carol has neither The Tonight
Show nor a husband to occupy her time.
She still acts. “I’m on an airplane right
now,” she says, which means, of course,
that a movie she’s in, Savannah Smiles, is
currently playing the upstairs transconti-
nental circuit. But it seems that she spends
most of her time being corrupted by her
14-year-old son, Alex.

He goes to Beverly Hills High School,
where, Carol remarks, “The kids all know
how to spell omega but not cat. They all
know the year of your Rolls-Royce but not
that two dimes and a nickel make a quar-
ter.”

At Alex’ suggestion, Carol has taken up
smoking, but it’s not what you may think.
At irregular intervals, she will pull out a
clove cigarette, the aroma of which is
strong enough to get them banned from
several local restaurants. "I decided I
should get a new bad habit," she reports.
“Alex said, ‘Mommy, cloves. They vill
give you a good head rush,’ So I’ve learned
to smoke, except that I smell like Easter.
Remember baked ham on Easter? Re-
member the cloves? That's what I smell
like. I bought my first lighter today. I'm
going to get an ashtray next."

And what will Alex say about his moth-
er's appearance in PLAYBOY?

“Alex is cool," maintains Carol. “Obvi-
ously, there's no other mother in school
who looks like me, anyway.”

y.
ML

161

PLAYBOY

162

SHELLEY LONG naron pace 12

“1 think a sense of humor is so appropriate in bed.
You roll with the punches, and it's all fun.”

once, That kind of thing is still going on.
You can still be nice and know when to
put your foot down or your knee in the air.
Being nice doesn't mean you have to let
people walk all over you or push you
around or force you into a situation that
you have no desire to be in. It is difficult,
because there’s a sort of trusting attitude I
grew up with. Not everyone can be
trusted. I think we all have to be very
selective about the people we trust. That’s
something that people earn. You don’t
have to give it away.

14.

PLAYBOY: You're in front of a raging fire,

cognac in hand, a guy’s arm around your
shoulder. Describe your check list before
take-off.

lonc: Did I bathe? Did I change my
underwear? My check list is “Does this
feel right?” Get into the moment and
“Does this feel right?”

15.

rLAYBOY: What is funny in bed?
lonc: Everything. I think a sense of
humor is so appropriate in bed. We're full
of surprises. You roll with the punches,
and it’s all fun. It’s easy to get embar-
rassed, defensive and frightened, because

“Hi, there! . . . Moses is the name and
morality's my game!”

sex and intimacy are real powerful, but
you have to realize that nothing is life or
death.

16.

PLAYBOY: As part of your job, you must
dine with producers, directors, writers and
actors. Who has the worst table manners
in Hollywood?

LONG: I understand that Rin Tin Tin can
get very tacky. I take so few lunches, and
all of them are with journalists who do
more talking than eating. Look, it’s hard
to eat and talk at the same time, so I try
not to judge. Don’t count the stains on my
tie and I won't count the stains on yours.

17.

PLAYBOY: When you want to be sexy, what
do you or don't you put on?

Lonc: Fig leaves, just аз an example.
Music. In my experience, putting some-
thing lovely and luxurious on can be тоге
stimulating to a situation than taking
something off.

18.

PLAYBOY: Is it wrong for us to imagine that
some of your bedmates are stuffed?

LONG: Does that come out of People maga-
zine? None of my bed companions are
stuffed. The stuffed animals are gifts
we've sort of accumulated. They’re tokens.
of friendship from friends. "The stuffed
animals are kept in the den in their trunk.
We have none in the bedroom. The bed-
room is grown-up.

19.

PLAYBOY: Describe your compulsions
Lonc: Popcorn. I love popcorn. Some-
times, chocolate. Potato chips. If I allow
myself that sort of uninhibited behavior, T
love to watch a good basketball game on
television. I really enjoy that, and if I hap-
pen to get into the rhythm of reaching and
eating, I do find, oh, it’s gone. Guacamole
also. It’s real hard to stop with guacamole.
If I allow myself to finish the guacamole
bowl, it’s because Рт hungry and I’m
entitled. I don’t get a lot of pleasure out of
overindulging in things anymore. I will
allow myself to have sweets and naughty
carbohydrates. But that’s OK. There’s no
problem with that. I’m not so strict that T
don’t give myself some pleasures here and
there.

20.

PLAYBOY: If real men don't eat quiche,
what would you suggest they eat?

LONG: Oh, dear. Next question. Tsk, tsk,
tsk, tsk. Actually, for some reason, lasagna
comes to my mind. I have no idea why.

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PAUL SIMON (continued from page 51)

“I said to Artie, ‘I think what we have here is the

partnership that wasn't.

PLAYBOY: Didn't you ask him why?
SIMON: Yes. He was traveling alone; he
likes to follow his own course. When I
asked, he'd say, “Oh, look, don't be hurt
by my behavior. Don't think that I don't
like you." Of course, on a certain level, not
too far from the surface, he doesn’t like
me. I don't even know if Arthur admits
that. The same goes for me. And then, of
course, you have to remember that there's
something quite powerful between us.
"This is a friendship that is now 30 years
old. And the feeling of understanding and
love parallels the feeling of abuse. I think
Artie's a very powerful and autonomous
person until he comes into contact with me
on a professional level. Then he loses a
great degree of power. And it makes him
very angry—at me.

Also, we're in the unfortunate position
of being compared all the time. It's one of
the things about the tour that were diffi-
cult. In the reviews, it’s always compari-
sons: Simon was too pushy; Garfunkel
sang out of tune; Simon sang out of tune;
they didn’t sing as well as they used to;
they sing better now, but with less pas-
sion... . Even when the comparisons are
complimentary, it's too many comparisons
for comfort. As we followed our solo
careers, it was the same thing. Add to that
the fact that he felt, even more than I did,
the frustration of having people ask, “Did
you write the words or the music?" 1 used
to feel, Oh, Christ. But at least I could say,
“I wrote both." Arthur had to say, “I
wrote neither." And that's a drag if people
keep asking you. Because there's a sense of.
competition between us that dates from
the beginnings of our friendship, at 12.
PLAYBOY: Does he articulate those feel-
ings?

SIMON: Sometimes. Not exactly in those
words. But he does. He'll say, "I'm the
victim and you're the victimizer."
PLAYBOY: What do you say to that?
SIMON: “It’s not so. You're not a victim
and I'm not a victimizer, and stop saying
that about me. How have I victimized
you? What penalty have you paid because
of me? What did I take away from you? I
didn't take anything away from you."
PLAYBOY. And yet there's an underlying
closeness?

SIMON: I think Arthur probably knows
everything about my life. Not that we're
real confidants on any regular basis, but
he’s in that group of really close friends of
mine. Lorne Michaels is probably the
closest. We've done projects together, and
he lives in the apartment next to mine.
Chuck Grodin. My brother, Eddie. Ian
Hoblyn, who works with me. Mike Nich-
ols. Perhaps Artie is the farthest out of the

group, but we go back the longest way
together, and that counts for a lot.
PLAYBOY: Do you wish you could really
talk about the tensions between you?
SIMON: That depends on what we hoped to
achieve by doing it. I would be willing to
do almost—that word almost is impor-
tant—almost anything to make Art happy.
I care about our friendship. The only
thing I feel I won't do is change the
essence of my work. That was the crux of
our problem on this new album.

PLAYBOY: Because, in the end, your mu-
sical tastes are so different? What did you
think about his solo albums?

SIMON: I think Artie made the kind of
records that he wanted to make, and that's
a real achievement. The drag of it was that
people didn't buy them in sufficient num-
bers for him to feel that he was successful
commercially. But Ле didn't have a sense
of failure artistically.

PLAYBOY: But what did you think of his
records?

SIMON: I myself didn't like them. I didn't
like the songs. I thought they weren't
really as bright as he was. He is much
more complex than they were. He was
singing songs that just didn't reflect that.
He was more interested in making a
sound with his voice that was pleasing. He
didn't concern himself with the words too
much, because he felt there wasn't that
much of a choice of great words around.
He's a singer, and he went for the sound
in his voice.

PLAYBOY: What did you think of the quali-
ty of his voice?

SIMON: 1 thought it was too stylized. I liked
the way he sang for Simon and Garfunkel
better. In his albums, the proportion cf
stylization to conversational singing,
which is my favorite, wasn’t to my taste.
PLAYBOY: At what point in doing the new
album together did problems develop?
SIMON: From the start. At first I thought, I
really can’t do it; These new songs are too
much about my life—about Carrie—to
have anybody else sing them. He had a
good answer. He said, “Look, these aren’t
the events of my life, but I understand the
emotions you’re dealing with. I under-
stand what it is to be in love, to be in pain,
to feel joy. I’m a singer. I’m able to inter-
pret. That’s what I do.” I said, “All right.
Let's try. However, I have to produce this,
because it's not like it was in the Sixties. I
know what I want to say musically. So
if that’s all right with you, and I can have
the decision on how to produce the tracks,
then we can try.” He said, “Well, you're
dampening my enthusiasm because of
your ambivalence.”

PLAYBOY: Sounds like a Paul Simon song:
"You're dampening my enthusiasm be-
cause of your ambivalence.”

SIMON: No, that wouldn’t be a Paul Simon
song. I wouldn’t say that. That’s too on
the money.

PLAYBOY: You'd be oblique?

SIMON: Yeah. Anyway, that’s how we
began, with my sense of ambivalence
about the project and his frustration at
the rules of the game being stated. It
wasn't that different from the Sixties, but
I became even more rigid, even more the
guardian of my music than I had been. I'd
finish the tracks and my vocals, and I'd
say, “OK, Artie, let's go in and do your
vocals.” And he'd say, “I’m not ready. I'd
like to write my parts. I want to take ту
Walkman. Pm going to walk through
Switzerland and write my harmony.”

"The fact is that the songs were harmon-
ically very different. You couldn't write
the straight-ahead harmonies that you
could in the early Simon and Garfunkel
records. Artie finally said, “Look, the way
I want to do this record is you sing the
song, make the track and then leave me
alone and ТЇЇ go into the studio and over-
lay my voice.”

PLAYBOY: And you objected?

SIMON: Yes. I wanted to be there when it
happened, because I knew that if what he
did wasn’t all right with me, I wasn’t
going to let it go. And that was the differ-
ence from the Sixties. What we didn’t
realize at first was how big a difference it
was. It was huge. As wide as his solo
records are from mine.

Meanwhile, we had a time limit. We
were trying to get the record out, following
the conventional wisdom, to precede the
tour that was going to begin in the spring
of 1983. We had the time, but it just didn’t
get done. Artie wasn’t happy with his per-
formances. Or he wanted to think more
about the part. A year sailed by.

So now, not only was the work process
painful, in that the personality clash was
constant, but the artistic differences were
becoming more articulated. I was getting
to feel that I didn’t want him to paint on
my painting. Finally, I said, “This is not a
good idea. I think what we have here is the
partnership that wasn’t.”

PLAYBOY: Did you feel sad about it?
SIMON: It’s too bad, because everybody
wanted to have two guys who had their
differences and split up and then came
back together and resolved them and lived
happily ever after. It was really a bitch to
say, “Well, we didn’t really get back
together.” The truth is, we were always
able to sing and blend well together; that’s
our gift. And that was always a turn-on
for both of us. But aside from that, we’re
really two different guys. As much as we
wanted to be a partnership, we're not.
PLAYBOY: Much of this comes down to your
protectiveness about what you've written.
How have you managed to find the pop-
song form—which seems on the face of it
fairly limited— continuously challenging?

163

PLAYBOY

SIMON: It’s not at all limited. It’s the uni-
verse. I see a correlation between short
stories and songs, because of their length
and for what they’re meant to evoke.
What the song form has that the short-
story form doesn’t is melody. Melodies are
inexplicable; they're magic. Combine cer-
tain words with melodies and it all
becomes very moving. Separate the words
and the melodies and it’s not so moving.
PLAYBOY: Can the lyrics stand alone?
SIMON: Maybe on this new album, where
the lyrics are my best. It’s hard to say. I
have very little comparative basis for judg-
ing, because although 1 was able to study
music with teachers, I never studied lyric
writing. I read poetry, and I read other
lyricists. But they were never writing in
the style or the form that I was interested
in. They were very clever rhymers, but 1
don’t find that to be most intriguing. To
me, the person who wrote the most moy-
ing lyrics was Bob Dylan, in the carly
days. Boots of Spanish Leather. Girl from
the North Country. Don’t Think Twice,
It’s All Right. Blowin’ in the Wind.

It's funny to hear myself saying that. It
may be the first generous thing I've ever
said about Bob Dylan. In the early days, I
was always too angry about being com-
pared with him. And then, he’s hard to be
generous to, because he's so ungenerous
himself. I never felt comfortable with him.
He didn't come at you straight. It’s a big
error to think that because you like some-

body's work, you're going to like him
PLAYBOY: Are there any other lyricists you
feel generous toward?

SIMON: John Lennon could do that, too.
He evoked something very powerful with
very few words. Strawberry Fields For-
ever. I Am the Walrus. In My Life.
Norwegian Wood. Little stories that are
enigmatic but very powerful.

PLAYBOY: Is that a description of what you
try to do when you write?

SIMON: Yes. That, plus I try to open up my
heart as much as I can and keep a real
keen eye out that I don’t get sentimental. I
think we're all afraid to reveal our hearts.
It's not at all in fashion, which I think is
one of the reasons I don't like fashion. It's
very heartless. So I feel I should try to
reveal. And when you hit it right, you pro-
duce an emotional response in the listener
that сап be cathartic. And when you're
wrong, you're soppy, sentimental. Or you
can go the other way and try to be more
enigmatic. When it works, that’s good. It
mystifies, like a good puzzle or a magic
trick. When you miss, it’s pretentious. I
find it very painful to miss on either side.
PLAYBOY: That doesn’t leave you much
room in the middle.

SIMON: It doesn’t matter. It's a gamble that
you're supposed to take. I'd rather miss
and be sentimental than cover up my
heart. I mean, anybody can do bad work,
but not everybody docs good work.
PLAYBOY: What's wrong with sentimentali-

ty? For example, wasn't a song such as
Billy Joel’s Just the Way You Are senti-
mental and affecting, too—at least before
it became a cliche?

SIMON: Maybe 1 picked the wrong word
there, sentimentality. It’s more like false
innocence. I think Just the Way You Are
contains a very true and kind human
statement. And it seems to be sincere.
PLAYBOY: But Joel has not always won
wide critical acclaim.

SIMON: Yeah, he's had some really bad
stuff said about him. And it’s funny,
because he's a really likable guy. I mean,
all the stuff about his being angry—he’s
not, really. He’s a sweetheart. And he’s
supersensitive to criticism. He’s a street
kid, so he flashes back. But he’s actually
very big-hearted. He gave Carrie and me
a jukebox for our wedding, which was
nice. But what was really nice was that he
personally filled it with a great collection
of rock records. You know, the main rea-
son that Billy has been criticized is that
he’s been very successful

PLAYBOY: Why?

SIMON: Well, I don’t want this to sound
like a knock on him, because I usually like
his records, but he’s not my favorite song-
writer. He’s lyrically naive.

PLAYBOY: What do you mean?

SIMON: He thinks about larger issues, but
he doesn’t think about them hard enough.
Meanwhile, he makes very good, solid
rock tracks and sings with a powerful,

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clear, cutting rock-’n’-roll voice. I think
he’s insufficiently credited for how good
his voice is. In fact, part of his weakness is
that his voice is so good, he's able to imi-
tate—and I always felt that Billy should
be stretching more to find out who Billy
Joel is.

PLAYBOY: That’s an interesting thesis.
SIMON: Being an artist doesn’t mean that
you’re a good artist. It’s just a certain type
of person. And he is that type of person by
temperament, a creator. That was the bar-
gain I first made with myself: Га say, I'm
an artist, but I'm not really very good.
And it took me many years—till the late
Seventies, maybe—to say, "I think I am
good, and I want to be even better." But
Billy didn’t like the artist idea. He thought
it was elitist.

PLAYBOY: What is this artistic tempera-
ment to which you refer?

SIMON: I haven't really thought about it. I
suppose an artist is someone who takes the
elements of his life and rearranges them
and then has them perceived by others as
though they were the elements of their
lives. That's just something that some peo-
ple do. An artistic bent is innate. Then
there are those who work on their tech-
nique, because good art has a lot to do
with technique. And that can be learned.
PLAYBOY: But isn't being tough and street-
wise part of the rock-’n’-roll ethic?
SIMON: Yeah. It's a profession where it's
almost required to have that pose. Unso-

Aside from Lennon and Dylan, who made

a point of their working-class back-
grounds—which turned out not to be true,
anyway—the idea that rock could be an
art form that people with a brain might
work at was always treated with derision.
And that still exists. It turns out that
there are a lot of smart guys in this profes-
sion, but they don’t express that side. Kris
Kristofferson was a Rhodes scholar, but
he always plays shit kicker. Randy New-
man is bright, of course, but he has never
had that tremendous popular success.
Mick Jagger, I think, went to the London
School of Economics.
PLAYBOY: What do you think of Jagger?
SIMON: He’s not very interesting to me as
an artist. I give him his due: I know how
difficult it is to keep up your energy and to
keep growing, and he has. I guess I don’t
like what he stands for. I mean, you can
see his influence on almost every lead
singer—a certain androgyny, or bisexuali-
ty, flaunted. And he did it in a way that
was original, with a sense of irony. But
what he really contributed was something
of little value—the pose of anger and
rebellion. He was sophisticated enough to
use that to earn huge sums of money. But
others took it to mean they should be re-
bellious, cruel, disdainful and misogynous.
l have the same feeling about Elvis
Presley, only worse. For, as much as I
idolized him, the lesson of his life—what

happens to people with tremendous gifts
in their youth—was terrible. His lesson
was that you go to Las Vegas and stop
thinking and live in an insulated world
where you can get as many drugs as you
want. That's very destructive.

PLAYBOY: Who are your artistic heroes?
SIMON: My first thought was that I didn’t
really have any. Then I thought, Whom
do I admire? And my brain said Woody
Allen. I admire his tenaciousness, his tal-
ent, his integrity. I guess what bothers me
about saying that is that he's so many peo-
ple's hero. If I went a step further, I would
say John Cheever. His work really
touched me. And he seemed to have a very
good heart, to have overcome enormous
obstacles and achieved success quite late in
life. He also wrote about a world that he
made me feel I belonged to, even though it
had nothing to do with me, That’s a great
achievement for an artist. I'd say the same
about John Updike and Saul Bellow.
PLAYBOY: Who in the pop-music world is
pursuing his own artistic vision?

SIMON: Well, Bruce Springsteen. When I
first heard Bruce, I thought, Well, he's
like Dylan and Van Morrison. But some-
how, hes grown. Somehow, he's made
those south Jerscy highways, the cars, into
an archetypal, almost mythic American
form of expression. He's found a vocabu-
lary to talk about what's on his mind and
in his heart. He's found his people. I don’t
think that Springsteen himself rides along

165

PLAYBOY

on highways with a girl wondering where
to go. But a part of him does, and always
will, and so he's able to express himself
very clearly in that vocabulary.

PLAYBOY: Are there any others you'd put in
Springsteen’s category?

SIMON: Yeah. Bob Seger is able to express
something about the Midwest, to put it
into his music and make someone who
doesn't come from there understand and
be attractive to foreigners. To speak on a
mythic level. Not terribly different from
what Sam Shepard does in his plays.
PLAYBOY: What about a current singer/
songwriter such as Sting, of The Police?
SIMON: Well, I’m just beginning to be
aware of him. Until now, their albums
have seemed too smoothed down, There's
a little too much fashion in it for me.
‘Too much about haircuts. It’s distracting
to me. Not for what makes number one,
mind you, because haircuts are fairly
important for number one. Actually, I
think it was very unusual about Simon
and Garfunkel—their haircuts. We were
never fashionable. We were incredibly
popular, but we were always out of fash-
ion in our hair and physical appearance. I
don’t know anyone else with whom that
happened to the degree it did with us.
PLAYBOY: What's the difference between
writing something that is fashionable—or
for that matter, merely factual—and writ-
ing something you'd consider artistic?
SIMON: I have a song on this new album
called Train in the Distance. It’s very fac-
tual about my life, What I discovered in
writing recently is that facts, stated with-
out color, are just potential energy. You
don’t know where they’re going to go until
you give them a direction. The song starts,
“She was beautiful as Southern skies /
"The night he met her. She was married to
someone." That's about Peggy, my first
wife. And it's all true. "Then it goes, “Не
was doggedly determined that he would
get her / He was old, he was young.”
"That's me. I was, you know, pretending I
was sophisticated. I wasn’t. “From time to
time, he’d tip his heart / But each time,
she withdrew.” True, all true. All those
are just facts. Then I add what is, I think,
the artist’s job: “Everybody loves the
sound of a train in the distance / Every-
body thinks it’s true.” That’s not fact any-
more. That’s comment. I told a story, and
then I used the metaphor.

And then I thought, I don't think peo-
ple are going to understand what I mean
when I say, “Everybody loves the sound of
a train in the distance / Everybody thinks
's true.” And I don't want to be enigmat-
- So I added: “What is the point of this
story? What information pertains? / The
thought that life could be better is woven
indelibly into our hearts and our brains.”
And that was my writer’s point of view.
That we've survived by believing our life
is going to get better. And I happened to
use the train metaphor because I was sit-
ting in a friend’s house, near a railway
station, and I heard a train. And I said,

“Oooh, that’s nice.” "There's something
about the sound of a train that’s very
romantic and nostalgic and hopeful. Апу-
way, I guess my point is that facts can be
turned into art if one is artful enough.
PLAYBOY: Do: you have to be an artist to
have an emotional impact on people?
What about Barry Manilow?

SIMON: No. You might be a liar. An inno-
cent. A sentimentalist. But 1 question
what emotion Manilow touches. People
are entertained by him. But are they emo-
tionally moved? By Mandy? By I Write
the Songs? Y don't think so. I don't believe
anything that Barry Manilow sings.
PLAYBOY: But there are people who do.
SIMON: Not everyone has the opportunity
to be sufficiently sensitized to what is gen-
uine. If you were raised with a lack of
exposure to quality, I think it would be
more difficult to recognize it. If you just
eat Big Macs all your life and someone
serves you the finest French food, I don’t
think you will necessarily appreciate it.
PLAYBOY: How do you actually write?
SIMON: I wrote my new album, Hearts and
Bones, in two summers—the summers of
1981 and 1982—out in Amagansett. The
first song I wrote for this new album was
Song About the Moon. I was playing that
melody, and I didn’t have any words.
PLAYBOY: How did you come to be playing
that melody?

SIMON: I was playing the chords to it.
What I was really doing was playing an
old Sam Cooke song, Bring И On Home to
Me. And I was singing it and altering the
chords, making substitutions. Instead of
making them simpler, I was making them
more complex, just for the fun of it. This is
one way that people write.

PLAYBOY: Where do you think the creative
impulse comes from?

SIMON: I write from instinct, from an inex-
plicable sparkle. I don't know why Pm
writing what I'm writing. Usually, I sit
and I let my hands wander on my guitar.
And I sing anything. I play anything. And
I wait till I come across a pleasing acci-
dent. Then I start to develop it. Once you
take a piece of musical information, there
are certain implications that it automati-
cally contains—the implication of that
phrase elongated, contracted, inverted or in
another time signature. So you start with
an impulse and go to what your ear likes.
PLAYBOY: Is there a great pleasure when
you find something your ear likes?
SIMON: Two things come to mind that are
euphoric for me. One is the universal
euphoric; sex, that period of time when
you are at an absolute peak of sexual feel-
ing. The other is when I create something
that moves me. When Гат the audience to
my own creation and I’m moved. If it were
a drug and I could buy it, I'd spend all my
money on it.

PLAYBOY: Do you use drugs to write?
SIMON: Sometimes. I know a lot of writers
who use various drugs. I wouldn't be sur-
prised if the overwhelming majority of
them used some sort of drug. ГЇЇ put alco-

hol in there. F. Scott Fitzgerald did it to
write. Couldn't get loose enough. Guys in
rock smoke a joint. To get the stuff out of
you—especially if what you're dealing
with is yourself —requires you to open up
and touch tender spots. And to touch those
tender spots, you have to be anesthetized а
little bit, Of course, there's a penalty: You
get the bill eventually. The currency you
pay with is your health. You lose your
health; possibly, you lose the length of
your creative life. That’s what they mean
when they say someone’s burned out.
PLAYBOY: What happens after euphoria?
SIMON: Well, the moment of euphoria is
when you have the breakthrough and you
say it, and then I can begin to shape and
deal with what I’ve created. Once you
name the unnamable, you get numb.

Not every song I write is ecstasy. And
it can happen only one time. After
that, when you sing the same melody and
words, it’s pleasure, but you don’t get
wiped out. I’ve burst into tears uncontrol-
lably, on writing a song, because I realized
that I was saying something that I had
been keeping hidden for a long time.
PLAYBOY: What's an example?

SIMON: In a way, I’m embarrassed to say
the one that comes to mind, because now
I've disowned the song, it’s such a cliché.
But when I wrote and first sang the line
“Like a bridge over troubled water, I will
lay me down," it happened. The line came
all at once. I didn't know it was coming.
What I was saying was, “I’m going to do
this act of generosity for you.”

PLAYBOY: For whom?

SIMON; Well, I suspect I was thinking of
Peggy. That I would lie down and be a
bridge for her. It was an overwhelming
feeling coupled with that melody. Now it's
been sung so many times by so many
people that I have no feeling whatsoever
for it. But at the moment of creation, it
was huge.

PLAYBOY: Do you always start with the
melody when you compose?

SIMON: Usually it's something musical—
chords or a phrase. But sometimes 1 use a
lyric. Like the song René and Georgette
Magritte with Their Dog After the War.
"That was a caption of a photograph in a
book I was reading, and I thought, That’s
an interesting title for a song.

PLAYBOY: Lucky you saw it first. Such an
obvious title, after all.

SIMON: [Smiling] That’s right. I leaped оп
it before it could be spotted by my contem-
poraries. After I got the phrase, I began to
sing a melody that fit it. I didn’t have
an instrument. I just sang it. My voice is
my improvisational instrument, the melo-
dy instrument. The guitar is harmonic
structure. I’m not a good enough guitarist
to improvise on it.

PLAYBOY: There seems to be a constant ten-
sion in your songs between the esoteric
and the obvious.

SIMON: Isn't that when we're most moved?
We don't really understand, but we half
understand. Still, I don't want to lose

“No, Mr. Bowman—I’ve already granted you three last requests this
week, and you're overtaxing yourself."

nis

167

PLAYBOY

people, and I think that often, people don’t
understand what I’m talking about in
songs. In Cars Are Cars, 1 began by talk-
ing about the similarities between cars.
Then I took the ironic approach to
explaining the contrast I was setting up. I
wrote, “But people are strangers / They
change with the curve / From time zone
to time zone / As we can observe / They
shut down their borders / And think
they're immune / They stand on their dif-
ferences and shoot at the moon / But cars
are cars / All over the world." Even then,
I felt the song was too impersonal, it
wasn’t growing. The repetition of the
thought was boring me: the idea that we're
really all the same people— "engines in
the front and jacks in the back.” So I
wrote, “I once had a car / That was more
like a home / I lived in it, loved in it /
Polished its chrome." Actually, I was
thinking of my first car, а 1958 red
Impala. Triple carburetor. A fast car.
PLAYBOY: So you returned, as usual, to the
personal.

SIMON: Yeah. The car burned down even-
tually. И caught fire at the corner of
Artie’s block in Queens, as a matter of
fact. And then I ended the song with “If
some of my homes had been more like my
саг / I probably wouldn't have traveled
this far.” I find, basically, that it’s very
hard to stay away from domestic themes.
PLAYBOY: For all the personal themes in
your songs, you've rarely written about
your son, Harper. Why not?

SIMON: I tried to, but I was just too over-
whelmed with love to write. I couldn't
think of anything to write other than “You
totally amaze and mesmerize me, I’m so in
love with you I can’t contain myself.” And
that just didn’t seem like a healthy song to
write, you know?

PLAYBOY: What about writing songs about
broader social issues?

SIMON: Well, I don’t find it very comfort-
able to address those issues head on. One
of the only times I did it was in He Was
My Brother, which was about Andrew
Goodman, a college classmate who was
killed in Mississippi during the civil rights
movement. But usually, I address those
issues obliquely.

PLAYBOY: You've never written songs in the
Blowin’ in the Wind tradition, have you?
SIMON: Well, I have. There's a song I
wrote for this album and then threw out
called Citizen of the Planet. Yt was a direct
statement about nuclear disarmament.
Too direct for me. It goes: “I am a citizen
of the planet. I was born here. I’m going to
die here. I am entitled by my birth to the
treasures of the earth. No one should be
denied these. No one should be denied.”
Td like to give it to some disarmament
groups for others to sing, because it’s quite
а good song, but it’s just not my voice.
PLAYBOY: Since your reputation grows out
of the intensely personal themes of your
songs, let’s talk about where the vision
came from. You grew up in Forest Hills,

168 SIMON: Yeah, I lived in an attached house.

My father used to drive into the wrong
driveway all the time. He'd say, “Damn
it, how do you tell one of these houses
from another?"

PLAYBOY: He was a musician, wasn't he?
SIMON: For most of his adult life, he was a
bass player. He played on a couple of
rock-"n'-roll records; he used to play on
The Garry Moore Show and The Arthur
Godfrey Show. Every once in a while,
they'd show the band. We'd stay up and
see Dad. I was very proud of him. I liked
him, and I liked him as a musician. Ulti-
mately, I think he got bored with it. In his
40s, he went back to school. He got his
doctorate in education, and he ended up
teaching at City College. I liked that, too.
The academic side. His career couldn’t
have fit my life more perfectly.

PLAYBOY: So you had that rarest of com-
modities—a happy childhood?

SIMON: Yeah, it was. My mother was a
teacher, but she quit to raise me and my
younger brother. The thing about my
mother was that she was extremely sup-
portive. Not that my father wasn’t, but
my mother was the first nourishing person
in my life. She made me feel as if I could
take my needs very seriously, because she
did. By the time I was 12 or 13, I felt that
I was special, because I could play the
guitar and write songs. That meant I
could get girls I normally couldn’t since I
was shorter than everybody else.

The main thing about playing the gui-
tar, though, was that I was able to sit by
myself and play and dream. And I was
always happy doing that. I used to go off
into the bathroom, because the bathroom
had tiles, so it was a slight echo chamber.
Td turn on the faucet so that water would
run—I like that sound, it’s very soothing
to me—and Pd play. In the dark. “Hello,
darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk
with you again."

PLAYBOY: Is that where The Sounds of
Silence came from?

SIMON: Well, that’s the first line. Then it
drifts off into some other things. I’ve
always believed that you need a truthful
first line to kick you off into a song. You
have to say something emotionally true
before you can let your imagination wan-
der.

PLAYBOY: When did you meet Garfunkel?
SIMON: We knew each other in grade
school. By the sixth grade, we were pretty
friendly. We were in Alice in Wonderland
together. Artie was the Cheshire Cat. I
was the White Rabbit. Which is interest-
ing, because Harper was recently in Alice
in Wonderland at his school. He was the
Mad Hatter. I sometimes think, Isn't it
strange, life repeating and repeating it-
self? I mean, here’s Carrie. Her parents
[Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds] get
married and it’s on the front pages of
papers all over the world. She’s a movie
star, he’s a Jewish pop singer. Carrie and
I get married and it’s the same thing all
over again. Anyway, that’s how I met
Artie. By then, he was already by far the

most famous singer in the neighborhood,
My first recollection of him was in the
fourth grade, when he sang in the assem-
bly and all the girls were talking about
him. After that, I decided to try singing,
too. I said, “Hey, 1 want to cut in on some
of this myself.” That’s the way most
people start.

PLAYBOY: When did you and Garfunkel go
public as a duo?

SIMON: It didn't take long. By 14, we were
going around to record companies in New
York, looking up the numbers of small
companies in the phone book—many of
them in 1619 Broadway, where I have my
office now. A year later, we were making
a demo in a studio and a man outside
heard us. He said, "I'd like to sign you."
We made a record with him. It was called
Hey! Schoolgirl. Artie and I wrote it
together. And it became a hit. Sid Prosen,
the guy who discovered us, spent money
on it. Those were the payola days, and he
bought time on Alan Freed, who had the
most popular radio show. I think it was
$200 a week. Then we got on American
Bandstand, where kids would dance to a
record and then rate it. We called our-
selves Tom and Jerry. 1 was Jerry.
PLAYBOY: How did you get on American
Bandstand?

SIMON: Well, Sid probably paid off for
that, too.

We were pretty big in the neighborhood
after American Bandstand. The record
was top ten in New York City. So, yeah,
we were quite a big deal. We made about
$2000 each. That was nice. I was able to
buy a car, put money away. By the time I
was 15, I was essentially independent. But
nobody thought anything was going to
come of it, and nothing did. We put out
three or four records, and they were all
flops. Then I started working for music
publishers, making demos. Га be paid $25
for singing a song for an hour in the stu-
dio. And I'd get three or four demos a
week. That’s really how I learned to be a
recording artist: how to stand in front of
a microphone, sing background parts,
learn about a control room, mike tech-
nique, how musicians treated one another.

My father always had a great respect
for musicians, and he passed that on to
me. I’ve always been at home with musi-
cians. I have this attitude of semirever-
ence. They’re all my father. Artie’s father
was a traveling salesman, and he has very
pleasant memories of trips he took. And
now he likes to travel.

PLAYBOY: You are your past—there's a
song in that.

SIMON: Yeah, well, Freud wrote that song.
You don't want to cover Freud.

PLAYBOY: After the Tom and Jerry flops,
did you and Garfunkel stop singing?
SIMON: Well, there is a significant thing
here that I purposely refrained from men-
tioning, which is that during this time we
were singing together, I made a solo
record. And it made Artie very unhap-
py. He looked upon it as something of

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169

PLAYBOY

170

a betrayal. That sense of betrayal has
remained with him. That solo record that
Y made at the age of 15 permanently col-
ored our relationship. We were talking
about it recently and I said, “Artie, for
Christ's sake, I was 15 years old! How can
you carry that betrayal for 25 years? Even
if I was wrong, I was just a 15-year-old
kid who wanted to be Elvis Presley for onc
moment instead of being the Everly
Brothers with you. Even if you were hurt,
let's drop it.” But he won't.

PLAYBOY: Why not?

SIMON: He said, "You're still the same
guy.” And I think he thinks I am.
PLAYBOY: After college, you moved to Eu-
rope. Was that a happy time?

SIMON: There was a little valley of peace
between the assassination of John Kenne-
dy and the escalation of the war in Viet-
nam. I loved that time. I hitchhiked
around Europe, sang in the streets, col-
lected money. I lived a week under a
bridge once, the Pont Neuf. Lived a week
in a convent that took me in.

PLAYBOY: Why did you return to the
U.S.?

SIMON: I still couldn't make the statement
clearly that I wanted to be a songwriter
and a singer. So I decided to go to law
school, but essentially, I flunked out. I had
no interest in it. Then, one day, I met
Artie walking over a bridge in Queens. I
hadn’t seen him for years. We renewed
our friendship—the one that had split up
over my making the solo record at 15. Pd
been writing, and we started to sing those
songs, became fast friends, smoked our
joints together.

PLAYBOY: And you did your first album for
CBS, Wednesday Morning, 3 am. But it
didn’t take off until CBS released an over-
dubbed electric version of The Sounds of
Silence. Were you back in England then?
SIMON: That’s right. I remember getting a
letter from Artie saying that they were
very excited about the new release. And
then I was doing some dates in Denmark a
few weeks later, and I got a copy of Cash
Box, and the song was number 59 with a
bullet. I said to myself, “My life is irrevo-
cably changed.”

PLAYBOY: Three weeks later, the song was
number one. What was that like?

SIMON: I was very happy, but it was weird.
I had come back to New York, and I was
staying in my old room at my parents’
house. Artie was living at his parents’
house, too. I remember Artie and I were
sitting there in my car, parked on a street
in Queens, and the announcer said,
“Number one, Simon and Garfunkel.”
And Artic said to me, “That Simon and
Garfunkel, they must be having a great
time.” Because there we were on a street
corner in Queens, smoking a joint. We
didn’t know what to do with ourselves.
PLAYBOY: How were you and Art getting
along?

SIMON: Great. From 1966 to 1968, we had
our best time ever. The hits just kept roll-
ing in. There was one point where we

seemed to dominate the charts; the sound
track from The Graduate, Bookends, Pars-
ley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme and The
Sounds of Silence.

PLAYBOY: Do you still like any of the songs
on those early albums?

SIMON: Not really, but I have an affection
for them as part of my youth. The Sounds
of Silence can be quite effective. It caught
the mood of the time, alienation. I like
Scarborough Fair.

PLAYBOY: How did success affect you?
SIMON: I think the way I treated all of it
was with some bewilderment. This was
the Sixties. It was different from the
Eighties. In the Eighties, people are
shrewd when they have success and they
cash in with $15,000,000 deals. In the
Sixties, you didn’t do that. You didn’t sep-
arate yourself from the people. You didn’t
covet money. If it came to you, fine. It was
an idealistic time.

PLAYBOY: When did you start writing the
songs that endure for you?

SIMON: Well, Bookends was our first
serious piece of work, Pd say. I still like
the song America. Mrs. Robinson isa little
dated now, but “Where have you gone,
Joe DiMaggio?” is an interesting line for
a song that has nothing to do with Joe
DiMaggio.

PLAYBOY: How about the line “Old friends
. . . / Silently sharing the same fears”?
Did that refer to anyone in particular?
SIMON: No. It came to be a good song for a
Simon and Garfunkel reunion show 13
years later. And journalists always began
their articles by quoting it. But at the time,
I was just writing about the aging cycle,
about old friends.

PLAYBOY: The next album was your big-
gest—Bridge over Troubled Water. Ironi-
cally, it was the last you made together.
SIMON: Some of the songs on that album I
liked: The Boxer was a good song.
PLAYBOY: What inspired it?

SIMON: I think I was reading the Bible
around that time. That’s where I think
phrases such as "workman's wages" came
from. And “seeking out the poorer quar-
ters.” That was Biblical. I think the song
was about me: Everybody's beating me up,
and Рт telling you now I’m going to go
away if you don't stop. By that time, we
had encountered our first criticism. For
the first few years, it was just pure praise.
It took two or three years for people to
realize that we weren't strange creatures
that emerged from England but just two
guys from Queens who used to sing rock
*n’ roll. And maybe we weren't real folkies
at all! Maybe we weren't even hippies!
PLAYBOY: What was happening to you and.
Artie during the period that preceded
Bridge over Troubled Water?

SIMON: Artic was off in Mexico making
Catch-22. Y was ing. One of the songs
was about his going away to act in that
film: The Only Living Boy in New York.
“Тот, get your plane right on time" was а
reference to Tom and Jerry. “Fly down to
Mexico. Here I am / The only living boy

in New York.” I was alone.

PLAYBOY: When you wrote Bridge over
Troubled Water, did you know immedi-
ately that you had written a hit?

SIMON: No, but I did say, “This is very
special.” I didn’t think it was a hit,
because I didn’t think they'd play a five-
minute song on the radio. Actually, I just
wrote it to be two verses done on the
piano. But when we got into the studio,
Artie and Roy Halee, who coproduced our
records, wanted to add a third verse and
drums to make it huge. Their tendency
was to make things bigger and lusher and
sweeter. Mine was to keep things more
raw. And that mixture, I think, is what
produced a lot of the hits. It probably
would have been a hit with two verses on
the piano, but it wouldn’t have been the
monster hit that it became. I think a lot of
what people were responding to was that
soaring melody at the end.

Funny, I’m reminded of the last
verse. It was about Peggy, whom I was
living with at the time: “Sail on, silver
girl. . . . / Your time has come to shine”
was half a joke, because she was upset one
day when she had found two or three gray
hairs on her head.

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the song
today?

SIMON: Totally detached. I don't feel that
Bridge over Troubled Water even belongs
to me. When I think about it now, I think
first of an elevator. It makes me laugh—
it’s nice to have any song that you write
played in an elevator. It’s not as good a
feeling, though, as walking down the
street and hearing somebody sing a song of
yours. That, I think, is the best feeling for
a songwriter.

PLAYBOY: Do you ever fear that your suc-
cess—even the fact that you travel mostly
in taxis and limousines—means that your
experiences necessarily differ from those
of the people who buy your records?
SIMON: No. I still feel very much in touch
with my background and my childhood.
On a certain level, I’m still thinking, Not
bad for a kid from Queens. And so are my
friends, I suspect. Mike Nichols is think-
ing, Not bad for a little boy from Berlin,
which is where he was born. And Lorne is
thinking, Hey, pretty good for a guy from
Toronto. Michael Jackson must think,
Pretty damned good for a guy from Gary,
Indiana. You don’t forget. Now, Harper
Simon—I don't know if he'll be able to
make that statement. He’s starting from a
different place.

PLAYBOY: What about Carrie? She had
something like Harper's situation, being
the child of famous parents.

SIMON: You know what she says? “Most of
the movie-stars’ kids I know are fucked up
or dead. They killed themselves. I sur-
vived. And that makes me a success in
life.” She's right. Of course, she’s also a
success in her career.

PLAYBOY: Going back again, were you
aware as you wrote Bridge over Troubled

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PLAYBOY

Water that Simon and Garfunkel were
likely to break up?

SIMON: Definitely. That's essentially why
I wrote So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright.
For most people, it was about Frank
Lloyd Wright Even Artie didn't know
what I was talking about. But it was
direaly about us: "So long, Frank Lloyd
Wright." Artie had been an architecture
student. “I can't believe your song is gone
so soon / I barely learned the tune. . . . So
long. So long." It was direct.

PLAYBOY: How did you break up then?
SIMON: Well, Artie waited until the album
was finished to tell me that he was going.
to do Carnal Knowledge. I realized then
that I was certainly going to follow my
own instinct and make my own albums.
We did our last concert at Forest Hills
tennis stadium, shook hands and didn’t see
each other for years.

PLAYBOY: Were you hurt?

SIMON: Definitely, though I’m not sure I
realized then how much. I felt as if Artie
had fucked me over—not because he did
the movies, which was our understanding,
but because part of him saw those movies
as an opportunity to fuck me over. It was
as if he were saying, “Hey, Гус always felt
like a nobody. Now you're going to be the
nobody." And he rammed that home.
PLAYBOY: How?

SIMON: By saying, "You can't come to the
movie set. Pm really only interested in
movies. Movies are the much more impor-
tant art form. I’m into movies. I’m very
good-looking. I look like a movie star. My
friends are Jack Nicholson and Mike
Nichols.” I mean, he really made me feel
bad. I understood his frustrations, but I
hadn't done anything to him. I never said
that our partnership had been unequal.
Maybe that made it worse. I lied. He lied.
We said, “Were Simon and Garfunkel; I
write the songs, Artie arranges them.” We
would parade that. It was a joint state-
ment all through the Sixties. Everyone
believed it, and of course it was never
true.

PLAYBOY: When it was clear that Simon
and Garfunkel were finished, what did
you do?

SIMON: I went to Clive Davis, who was the
Columbia Records president at the time,
and said, “I’m going to make a solo
album.” And he said, "You're making a
tremendous mistake. You'll never be as
popular. Don’t do it.” But I did, of course.
And I wanted to get away from the big
orchestrations, anyway, make simpler,
funkier records. It made me nervous that I
wasn’t going to be a hit, but I set out on
my own.

PLAYBOY: How did you find the going?
SIMON: I began to stretch as a songwriter.
Before, I just wrote a song, and if it wasn’t
good, I'd say, “They can't all be good.”
Now I'd say, “Why didn't that work?”
And I started exploring more kinds of

172 music. I traveled to Jamaica to cut Mother

and Child Reunion as a reggae tune. I
wasn't going to cut it with L.A. studio
musicians and try to imitate, the way I
might have with Simon and Garfunkel.
PLAYBOY: Mother and Child Reunton be-
came a hit, and so did Me and Julio Down
by the Schoolyard, from that first album.
Were you happy?

SIMON: I was disappointed in its sales. I
was used to Simon and Garfunkel albums’
selling 3,000,000 to 5,000,000 copies. My
solo sold about half that.

PLAYBOY: And your second, There Goes
Rhymin’ Simon?

SIMON: That sold better than the first
album, and the writing developed. There
was a hit on that album. I can’t remember
what it was. Shit. Oh, yeah. Loves Me
Like a Rock. My first 1,000,000-selling
single as a solo. I did Loves Me with a
Gospel quartet. I was traveling around,
playing music I really liked. I went to Ala-
bama to play with the Muscle Shoals
rhythm section. I was the first white pop.
artist to play with them. Until then, they'd
cut all R&B with black artists.

PLAYBOY: Actually, you had two hits on
that second album. The other was Ko-
dachrome. Where did that come from?
SIMON: I started to write a song called
Going Home. 1 was singing the melody,
and then I decided, No, it’s too trite an
idea, but the sound of Going Home fit
those notes perfectly. So I just let my mind
slip into similar sounds. And one of them
was Kodachrome. Also, I had that first
line, the true one: “When I think back on
all the crap I learned in high school / It’s
a wonder I can think at all." It was a good
first line for a pop song.

PLAYBOY: You won a Grammy Award for
your next album, Still Crazy After All
These Years. Did you believe that it was
your best work?

SIMON: I felt J was defining a real identity.
Musically, I was beginning to put together
a kind of New York rock, jazz influenced,
with a certain kind of lyrical sophistica-
tion. It caught a moment in time, 1975—
1976. Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover was
a very hip song. Which is funny, because
it had a lot to do with my son. I was
teaching him about rhyming. “Slip out the
back, Jack / Make a new plan, Stan"—
they came out of rhymes I taught him.
PLAYBOY: You were talking with Garfun-
kel again by then. In fact, you recorded
My Little Town with him, which was on
Still Crazy and on his solo album, Break-
away.

SIMON: It was written originally for him. I
said, "Art, I’m going to write a real nasty
song for you, because you’re singing a lot
of sweet songs and it'll be good for you to
sing a real nasty song.” Then, when Га
actually written it, I said Га sing it with
him. And he said, “I know you. If you're
going to sing on this, you're going to feel
bad that it’s just on my record. Why don’t
we put it out on both of our records?" And

I said, *You're right. Thanks a lot.” It
was quite an act of generosity.

PLAYBOY: The song Stil Crazy After All
These Years scems in some ways like the
quintessential Paul Simon song. Was it as
autobiographical as it seems?

SIMON: Yes, it was. I was staying in a
Manhattan hotel. I had left my marriage.
I had a 16-month-old son. I was pretty
depressed, just sitting and looking out the
window. That’s all I used to do. Just sit
and look out the window: “Now I sit by
my window and I watch the cars. . . .”
PLAYBOY: What had gone wrong in the
marriage?

SIMON: I wasn't ready. I didn't understand
what marriage meant, really. I didn't
understand that if things were uncomfort-
able or you were unhappy, you could
work it out. I was young. Also, Peggy
wasn’t a rock-"n'-roll person, a show-busi-
ness person. And, of course, I didn't think
I was, either, but I was. That's all I ever
was. All my friends were musicians,
actors. And she could be critical. At first, I
was attracted to it. I liked it that somebody
was critical, because I felt that I was
somcone who was praised too much. And I
thought, Finally, someone who's honest.
But I began not to like it.

PLAYBOY: Depression is a thread that seems
to be woven through your life.

SIMON: I didn't realize that until I'd left it
behind. Then I realized there was a long
stretch of time when I wasn't happy.
PLAYBOY: Bcginning when?

SIMON: Га say early Simon and Garfunkel
times. That's when I started to experience
it. In 1966, '67. By '69, it got so serious
that I stopped smoking dope. I said, “This
isn't helping; it's making things worse." I
didn't smoke another joint for 11 years.
PLAYBOY: What depressed you so?

SIMON: Stuff I don’t want to say.

PLAYBOY: That’s a surprising answer from
one who's been so candid until now.
SIMON: They were feelings about myself.
that were very negative. Most people
could look at me and wonder, How could
that guy be depressed? And I now feel that.
people were seeing a more accurate pic-
ture of me than I was. I eventually real-
ized, Jesus, all I've been locking at is this
thin slice of the pie that has got the bad
news in it. And I’m disregarding the rest
of the picture.

PLAYBOY: What bad news are you referring
to? Being short?

SIMON: Being short. You could say that’s
bad news. Not having a voice that you
want. Not looking the way you want to
look. Having a bad relationship. Some of
that is real. And if you start to roll it
together, that’s what you focus on. I was
unable, fundamentally, to absorb the
bounty that was in my life. Even when
people would say—a simple statement
that I used to hear countless times—
“Hey, man, I love your music,” you'd
think that Га begin to feel something good

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173

PLAYBOY

174

about my music, right? But that's a state-
ment I would ignore. Totally ignore it.
PLAYBOY: Why?

SIMON: There's something in me—in a lot
of people—that says, “Gee, if I admit that
things are actually going well, maybe
they'll stop.” Or “If I admit Fm happy,
maybe I won’t be able to write.” I think
the psyche comes up with all kinds of
contrivances to protect what it thinks is
vulnerable. And sometimes those contriv-
ances are that you stay in a state of un-
happiness. Or victimization. It’s almost
saying, “Hey, don’t get mad at me for
being so successful and doing so well,
because look how unhappy I am.”
PLAYBOY: What changed that feeling?
SIMON: I think the success of Still Crazy
loosened me up. Made me feel good about
myself. My friendship with Lorne Mi-
chaels was very good. I could talk with
him about anything, without any competi-
tiveness.

Also, my relationship with Shelley Du-
vall, during that same period. While it
wasn’t ultimately satisfying, it was really
something that I enjoyed. As much as I
was frustrated by it—and, of course, ulti-
mately we broke up—I was very pleased
that I was going with Shelley. I truly
admired her work. I really liked the way
she looked. We just weren’t a match in
terms of personality. So I think despite my
habitual looking at the negative as a form
of protection, I began to get happy.
PLAYBOY: What role has being short played
in the negative feelings?

SIMON: I think it had the most significant
single effect on my existence, aside from
my brain. In fact, it’s part of an inferior-
superior syndrome. I think I have a supe-
rior brain and an inferior stature, if you
really want to get brutal about it. The
concept goes much further than that, but
that’s where it starts. And the inferior-
superior feeling goes back and forth so fast
sometimes that it becomes a blur.
PLAYBOY: To what do you attribute the
vacillation?

SIMON: Well, on the negative side, it's
because I'm extremely critical of myself.
On the positive, every once in a while, Pm
amazed at what I can do. And the world
confirms that I should be amazed. Then
that's quickly knocked out by the critical
side of me that says, *Look, what does the
world know? It knows the guy who writes
the songs. That's not Paul Simon. So let's
not get carried away.”

Then you have to add the fact that the
lead singer in a rock group was defined by
Elvis Presley and later redefined by Paul
McCartney. And here I was, a rock-’n’-
roll star who didn’t look at all like a rock-
"n'-roll star. I don't know if the world said
that, but / thought it did. And that's why,
in my opinion, people thought that Artie
wrote our songs.

PLAYBOY: Because he looked as if he did?
SIMON: Yes. You know, he was angelic-
looking, with fluffy blond hair. And he
was tall and thin and he had this voice,

and it seemed right. He should have been
the one who wrote the songs. That body
should have contained that talent. And I
think that’s part of what caused him
anguish, too. 1 think that's probably why
our partnership was a good one. Between
the two of us, we made one whole person.
Or at least that was the feeling. And I
think that’s also part of why I felt, Hey,
I've got to get out of rock ’n’ roll.
PLAYBOY: Get out of rock ’n’ roll so you
could do what?
SIMON: Become invisible. But then, an
astonishing thing happened. As 1 got old-
сг, I got beuer-looking. Which is the
reverse of what happens to most people.
And by the time I was in my late 30s, I
was starring in a movie. Forget the fact
that I had written it. I had to be able to
carry it. 1 had to look enough of that part
to star in a movie. Which I did. I played a
leading man!
PLAYBOY: Did you do anything to make
yourself look better?
SIMON- Well, I lost weight. I began to run.
Lost 15 pounds. And I did something
about my hair. I worked on my hair so it
would look better. It also helps to shave off
your mustache, if you have one. I basically
began to take a professional interest in
how I looked. Which I never had. And
that was a healthy statement.
PLAYBOY: So, apparently, was your mar-
riage to Carric. How did that happen?
SIMON: It was Carrie's idea. She said,
when we were touring last fall, *Let's do
it right now. Let's agree that we'll solve
our problems, we won't leave when we're
frustrated or angry." And 1, of course,
said, *What? Get married in an odd-num-
bered year? Why not wait till '84?” My
style is to procrastinate. It just made me
real nervous. I had been married and
divorced and found it really painful. But
Carrie got frustrated, and she was prepar-
ing to leave again. And then 1 went to a
twi-night double-header at Yankee Stadi
um. I always get very calm with baseball.
And by the seventh inning, it was eight to
one, Yankees, and I said, “Even if Guidry
gets in trouble, the Goose will save us.”
So I was feeling very secure, on my sec-
ond beer. And I thought, Well, come on,
Paul; you're going to do it, you're going to
do it! Га always loved Carrie, even when
we were most separated. After the game, I
went home and said to her, “All right, let's
do it.” Five days later, we were married.
And immediately, I felt a sense of relief.
PLAYBOY: So what now?
SIMON: I would like to take a year off and
just try to live happily with Carrie. That’s
what we're planning to do.
PLAYBOY: So the Interview has a happy
ending.
SIMON: Well . . . yes, you're right. It does
have a happy ending. That’s very hard for
me to say, But that’s the truth. And proba-
bly not the least of the accomplishments is
that I’m able to recognize it.

WILLIAM HURT

(continued from page 78)

boy with a white shirt and white apron.

Hurt orders coffee.

"I'd like the Key lime pie and ice
cream,” I say.

“No ice cream,” says the waiter.

“You don’t have ice cream?” I say; they
have mirrors, potted palms, blue-suede
banquettes, blue linen, a chrome bar,
birds of paradise and an overhanging bal-
сопу.

“No,” says thc waiter. “Ра have to
[laughs] go around the corner to get it.”

“Ah—just the pie, then.”

Hurt is looking at nothing. He pushes
out his lips. “I thought you wanted ice
cream,” he says.

The waiter rocks back on his heels. “I'd
have to [laughs] go around the corner to
get it,” he says

“Yeah. OK. OK,” says Hurt, turning
his head and looking at the waiter. “She'll
have the Key lime pie and ice cream.”

“You mean go around the corner?” says
tunned.
says Hurt quietly
what I mean.”

A waitress in a short black skirt, a
white Ralph Lauren Polo shirt and a
blue-cotton neckerchief comes over to the
table. She has been listening.

“Like, were new here,” she says.

Hurt’s eyebrows go down.

“So?” he smiles. It is a matter-of-fact
smile, not sarcastic. “You can’t go around
the corner to get ice cream because you're
new?”

“Well, we're not famous, like you,”
says the waitress, moving in front of the
waiter. “We can’t just, like, go out and go
around the corner.”

One of Hurt’s eyebrows goes down
again. The other stays exactly horizontal.

“Why not?” he says in a low voice.

“Oh! Well,” says the waiter, rocking
forward, “I'll do it.”

“You better not,” whispers the wait-
ress, frightened, touching his arm. “You
better not.”

“No!” says the waiter. “PIL go!”

“No, really,” I say. “I don’t need ice
cream.”

“You want ice cream, Jean?” says
Hurt. “You want some ice cream?”

“PI go! I'll go!” says the waiter, snap-
ping closed his order pad. “I’m going to go
around the corner.”

Hurt tilts his head forward, puts his
hands in his pockets. “Well, don’t do it
just to be accommodating,” he says.

“No, E want to,” says the waiter. “I
want to go around the corner and get it.”

He leaves. Ten minutes later, he ap-
pears with the Key lime pie and ice cream.
He puts it on the table. Steps back with his
hands on his waist.

“Wonderful!” I say.

1 look over at Hurt.

Hurt is sitting back, his legs lolling in

"Thats

ТИ w y 4 WW VO

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“My God, Mr. Barrett—when you said you were going
to jump me, I didn’t expect... .”

175

PLAYBOY

176

the aisle, crossed at the ankles, his head
back against the mirror, with a smile of
satisfied, charming indifference.
А

“Hurt is a mysterious guy,” says а stu-
dio executive. “Не can make anybody feel
anything.” But Hurt's not interested in
that. Doesn't want to make anybody feel
anything. Fuck that. Says everybody's
responsible for his own existence. Says
everybody has a right to think what he
wants to think and to give him the same
right and give the audience the same right
and stop typifying the shit out of him. Stop
making him into a fantasy. Stop making
him into a host. Stop making him into a
social director. He’s an actor. Actor. Actor.
Actor. The man behind the mask. The fool
in the forest, so don’t put the onus on him.
He doesn’t need that shit. He needs peace.
He needs quiet. He needs to work.

“What onus?” I say.

“The onus of being a myth in my time,”
says Hurt.

“Ah.”

“I sound like an asshole, don't I?" says
Hurt.

It is midnight, 12:30, and the bartender
has come over and introduced herself—
"How do you do? I'm the person who's
getting you both plowed"—and Hurt has
sung the lead and accompanied himself.
with the backup hand motions to Aint
Too Proud to Beg, by The Temptations,
and has fascinated the people in the res-
taurant, because a white guy doing a per-
fect Temptations and laughing at himself
is a weird and very attractive sight; and
now we're having a lot of coffee and the
waitress in the white Polo shirt walks over
and tells Hurt he has a phone call.

Hurt is gone a long time, and when he
comes back to the table, he sits down and
doesn’t say anything, and then he says:

“Sandra thought I'd be home by now.”

It is hot in the restaurant and sweat has
broken out on his forehead.

“Well, we're almost finished,” I say.
“You'd better go.”

“Til have one more. Then ГЇЇ go.”

“I mean, she knew I was just doing this
interview.”

The blood has left his face. His shoul-
ders are loose and dropped forward. His
voice has darkened, as if he’d been drink-
ing oil paint.

“She thinks Гуе failed her,” he says.

“Well, you've just been doing this inter-
view," I say.

“Why does she think Гуе failed her?”

“I don't know. We've just been doing
this interview." i

And I am thinking, I know two things:
There are not going to be any more inter-
views with William Hurt, and Sandra
Jennings despises me.

“I mean, I haven't done anything,” says
Hurt. “Why is she calling?”

“I don't know.”

“If you and I were together," says
Hurt, “you wouldn't call me.”

“Are you serious? I’d be out interview-
ing movie stars. I wouldn't have time to
call you.”

“Right. But if you and 1 were togeth-
er,” he says, “you wouldn’t have stuck
with me, like Sandy.”

“Yeah, Sandy’s great,” I say.

The Temptations have come on with
Just My Imagination, and I glance over at
my companion and then I glance away,
because there are tears in his eyes.

“Td die if Sandy left me,” he says.

“Well, you wouldn't die,” I say.

He looks at me.

The thought crosses my mind that
women will never understand men until
we become mentally disturbed.

“Oh, oh . . . here comes my husband. Play dumb.”

“You don't know me,” he says. His eyes

are as calm as a lemur's. “I would die.”
е

Hurt and another actor аге doing а
scene in Gorky Park. The master's been
shot. The other actor finishes his close-up.
Time for Нигез close-up. Well, the actor
doesn't care about that. He says, How are
the love scenes going? Hurt says, All
scenes are love scenes. ‘The actor says, No,
I mean the nudity. Hurt says, All scenes
are naked and all scenes are love scenes.
The actor says, Am I destroying your con-
centration? Hurt says, You’re trying.

“His concentration is so extreme,” says
Glenn Close, “that he can make everybody
around him tense. He gets very angry with
himself. He feels very strongly about what
he’s doing. But he’s wonderfully unex-
pected. He doesn’t know himself how
wonderfully unexpected.”

•

We sit around the restaurant another
hour, and then Hurt says he's going to
walk home, so we go out on Columbus
Avenue; but instead of walking home, he
goes into a phone booth across from the
natural-history-museum park and makes
а call and looks cocky afterward, which is
good because I am one of those adolescent
women who find sensitive men dippy; and
then, instead of walking home, we walk
through the park, which is almost empty
even though it is a hot night, and Hurt says:

“Гуе had fantasies about you.”

“What kind?”

“What other kind are there?”

We pass under a park lamp. Then
another. Then there are no others and
Hurt stops. “I have to do this,” he says.
“Face те.”

I turn. “Tm on the uphill side,” I say.

"That's good,” says Hurt.

A white dog bounds past. Hurt breaks
away. “Hiya, fella” He kneels down.
“Hiya, boy! How ya doin’! How's the fel-
la!” The dog trots off. Hurt stands up.

“I had you,” he says, “and from every
angle.”

It is late, so instead of walking home,
Hurt says he'll take a taxi.

“OK. You get a cab,” I say. “I’m going
to take the subway."

“No,” he says. "No subway. Not at
three in the morning."

“I always ride the subway at three in
the morning,” I say.

“No. Promise me. No subway.”

“OK. ГЇЇ take a (ахі. PLAYBOY's pay-
ing.”

A cab drives up. Hurt opens the door.
“Take care of yourself, E. Jean—take
care.” I get in and sit down on my bag.

“Where you going?” says the driver.

I am moving the bag out of the way.

“Where to?” says the cabby.

Hurt slams the door.

“Where’s she going?” says the cabby.

Hurt looks in at the cabby. “1...
don't... know . . .” he says.

Technics introduces an awesome

Computer-Drive Receiver.

Де 6 s distortion before it starts.
that’s just the beginning.

The new Technics SA-1010
Computer-Drive Receiver. A receiver
that combines so many technological
advances it is the most sophisticated
ever to carry the Technics name.

It starts with Technics innovative
Computer-Drive technology: a
microcomputer with the intelligence
to sense potential causes of amplifier
distortion. And to stop that distortion
before it starts. So your music comes
through with breathtaking clarity.

Asecond computer no

A microprocessor is HS Used in
junction with Technics Random
< pete Tuning with auto memory. It _
allows you to pre-set and'store up tô
16 of your favorite stations. Ars hear
E че, in any order, atthe push А
f à button.
And | Whatever. music you do listén to
~ can be made to virtually envelop you,
- surround you by. endaging Technics
— Dimension Control circuitry. ^ А r A t wA
.. Then theres the sheer power of - < r a
he $А-1010:120 watts per channel,
-minimum continuous RMS, both
channels driven into 8 ohms, from
= 20Hz to 20kHz, with no more than 71
0.00396 total harmonic distortion. ; d
~ And of course, the SA-1010 is ready
О for digital. It will be able to reproduce’
theflàwless sound of digital Souiges
Soon to come.
Power. Perfection. And performance.
The ER SA-1010 Computer-Drive
Receiver. From Technics.

Technics

The science of sound

915959 7 ы”

Alive
w'thpleasure!

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health.

IN WW

GE
GALLEY SLAVES

he good news about the current culinary market
place is that it's a chef's surprise of innovative prod-
ucts—such as Farberware's Electronic Ultra Chef—
that are designed to whisk you out of the hot-stove
league and into the living room with your guests. (The Farber-
ware unit, incidentally, can cook the fixings __—
fora large sit-down dinner or just supper
for one while you're researching the per-

fect martini.) When you do end up slaving over a hot micro-
wave oven, make it Kenmore’s latest model, which incorpo-
rates a five-inch color-TV set and a stereo cassette player in
its sleek black cabinet. And for the moanin’ after, Krups's
digital wall-mounted coffee maker can be preprogrammed
to brew java into a carafe. The

__ bad news? Somebody still

"wv has to do the dishes

Above left: No, that's not a piece of extraterrestrial debris that fell off the last space shuttle; it's Farberware's Electronic Ultra
Cheí—a sophisticated new product that allows you to prepare recipes ordinarily requiring constant attention in a rotating
cylinder that’s fitted with an electronic monitoring system, $450. Next to it is a fast-food-and-TV junkie's dream come true, a
Kenmore microwave oven/color TV/cassette player featuring an LED readout on the oven that gives cooking instructions for 25
preprogrammed recipes, from Sears, Roebuck and Company, Chicago, $1500. Atop the microwave: A programmable Café-
thek eight-cup wal-mounted coffee/tea maker for easy wake-up or after-dinner serving, by Krups, $190. At far right: Braun’s
Model МР-50 Multipress Juice Extractor, which pulverizes and depulps vegetables and noncitrus fruits in seconds, $105.

GROOMING
BODY TONING—MORE THAN SKIN-DEEP

our the men's cosmetics section in your favorite
department store or pharmacy and you'll find enough
muscle soaks, shower gels and body lotions to keep a
caliph fit and clean for 1001 nights. Body grooming is
the name of this new skin game, and manufacturers are play-
ing by a different set of rules from those in effect years ago,
when one merely slapped on a deodorant and a body splash
and went out to conquer the world, Such new products as
Aramis’ Foot Massage Cream and Chanel for Men's hand

cream are not pleasant-smelling placebos; the Foot Massage
Cream, for example, contains lactic-acid salt, which helps
relieve dry, cracked skin, and the hand cream also makes an

eal cold-weather moisturizer for elbows, feet and knees.
Since one can be a lonely number when it's just you and a
fresh can of Aramis' Muscle Soothing Soak or Paco Rabanne's
body lotion, we recommend that you do your serious torso
grooming with another body— preferably of the opposite
sex. That idea rubs us the right way. — KENNEDY FLYNN.

DAVID MECEY.

Give your eyeballs a rest, gentlemen, and check out the sampling
of body-grooming products below, from left to right: Givenchy

Gentleman Moisturizing Body Rub, which helps alleviate dryness
after showering or exposure to the sun, by Parfums Givenchy, $10;
Pour Homme Soothing Eau de Toilette, а refreshing skin protectant,
by Yves Saint Laurent, $19; Polo by Ralph Lauren talcum powder,
by Warner Cosmetics, $7.50; English Leather after-shower talc, by
Mem, $2.75; Spring Green bath and shower gelee, which has the
invigorating, woodsy scent of a fresh pine forest, by Vitabath, $14;

Chanel for Men hand cream, which protects skin against exposure to
the elements and is particularly effective in cold weather, $6.50;
Super-strength Foot Massage Cream, $12, and Muscle Soothing
Soak, $16, both by Aramis; Eau Sauvage Deodorant spray, by
Christian Dior, $7.50; Active Body Exfoliating Cream (it removes cal-
lused skin and dead surface cells), by Marbert Man, $22.50; Pour
Homme Sport Emulsion body lotion, by Paco Rabanne, $18; Pour Lui
Soap Vitale, which promotes the healing of minor skin irritations,
by Oscar de la Renta, $12.50, including a handsome travel case.

— POTR

THE KNIGHT’S TALE
Dragon's Lair, a high-resolution ani-
mated laser-disc game by Don Bluth, the
creator of The Secret of NIMH, has
crept into video arcades across the coun-
try and has slain the competition with
marvelous graphics wedded to computer
technology. In Dragon’s Lair, you're pit-
ted against a castle full of animated
menaces, including a flaming sword, tilt-
ing floors, skulls and slime. Obviously,
this is not meant to be just kid stuff.

INTO EACH LIFE A LITTLE PHONE MUST RISE

“Welcome to the exciting world of kinetic telephony!” read the instruc-
tions for Expansion Phone, a wacky piece of equipment that’s sure to get
a rise out of anyone. For all you doubting Thomas Edisons, here’s what
the Expansion Phone does: When you pick up the handset, the push-but-
ton portion descends from a height of five and a half feet to two feet; you
can then place a call and, when you hang up, the push buttons ascend to
their original height. Why, you ask? Because for $399 sent to Expansion
Phone, P.O. Box 6172, F.D.R. Station, New York 10150, you and your

phone are guaranteed to be the talk of the town. EXECUTIVE ENGINE
THAT COULD
юшкене йин The difference between men and boys, as
CHARLEY the saying goes, is the price of their toys,
If you think a Yard of Flan- and if you’ve checked the shelves of chil-
nel is somebody’s muffler dren’s stores lately, an executive DeWitt
and a Dog's Nose is what Clinton H.O.-scale train—including ап
you check when you want to engine and three skillfully detailed
know if your pet has a fever, coaches, 45” x 36" of oval track and a
then you haven’t read Con- power pack to run it—for only $64.95,
vivial Dickens: The Drinks postpaid, seems like an incredible bar-
of Dickens and His Time, by gain. The Emporium, P.O. Box 1569,
Edward Hewett and W. F. Glendale, California 91209, is where you
Axton, These two sober gen- write to place your order. Toot! Toot!

tlemen have scoured Vic-
torian bartenders’ manuals,
butlers” guides and temper-
ance tracts to compile “an
entertaining look at the
drinks and drinking customs
of our Victorian grandsires,
as they are reflected in the
life, works and times of
Charles Dickens.” The pub-
lisher, Ohio University
Press, Scott Quadrangle,
Athens, Ohio 45701, sells
the book for $17.25, post-
paid. And there's even a
chapter on American cock-
tails, including one called the
Rocky Mountain Sneezer
that's made with real snow.
Not yellow, we hope.

LONE STAR SELLOUT

THE MASQUERADE'S А ten-book regional survey of the untitled aristoc-
NOT OVER racy of the United States by Debrett’s Peerage
Aside from being head of has commenced, and the first volume, Debrett’s
COTON COSS RON Texas Peerage (Coward-McCann), has cow
"Tired Ethics), an organization pokes from Amarillo to Laredo social-climbing all
5 Ы legali over one another to see if they're listed. A major
thats ateempeing to ces ше portion of the $25 book will chronicle the cur-
ein NEN аше rent lifestyles of blue-blooded Texans, and there
is also famous for the Mas- will even be a chapter on the King family, who in-
querade Ball she held each spired the movie Giant. "Shucks, Maw.
fall whiere: alienders engaged I'm listed, you're listed and the kids are
in some of Lea Es listed, but they left out the hoss!”
ings-on since Sodom and Go-

morrah. The balls are gone,
but the 20” x 30” poster from
the last one lives on and is
available for $12 from John
Berns, 1377 Seventh Avenue,
San Francisco 94122. Sorry
you missed the fun.

CLIPPED ACCENT

When Brian Margolis wound
up wearing his canapés and
vino at a party, he had a
bright idea and invented the
Buffet Maid, a plastic plate
dip that attaches to an hors
d'oeuvre platter and holds a
wineglass or a stemmed cock-
tail glass, thus freeing one’s
other paw for shaking hands,

smoking or patting the hostess m _ FRINGE BENEFITS

on the fanny. The clips are е next time you and your. САЗ зан to
available at two for $3, post- spend a rainy Saturday afternoon playing “Ме
paid, from Imagine Trading ‘Tarzan, you Jane,” skip the animalskins and
Company, 1810 Purdue Ave- have her slip into something more comfortable,
а ПМУ such as a Tease Shirt. Made of 100 percent cot-
geles, California 90025. ton and guaranteed to shrink, Tease Shirts come

in small through extra large in hot and cold col-
ors, from lavender and raspberry to white and
black. At $11.95 each sent to Tease Shirts, P.O.
Box 224527, Dallas, Texas 75264, we're sure
you'll want to order at least a dozen.

That's cheaper than cleaners.

UGLY BUSINESS

Brace yourself for the worst,
green thumbers: The World's
‘Ugliest Plant (the name is so
ugly, we can’t bear to speak
it) has just been introduced in
starter-kit form for $5, post-
paid, by Mental Manufactur-
ing, P.O. Box 22, Rockefeller
Center Station, New York
10185. In the kit you get Ugly
Seeds, an Ugly Starter Pot,
Ugly Growing Instructions
and an Ugly Bag to use when
you entertain sensitive guests
or can’t take it anymore.
We've even taken to wearing a
bag so that if the Ugly Plant's
bag blows off, we won't have
to see it. Now, that's ugly.

GRAPEVINE

Have Gun
T1 А

^ Will Travel
І ` SUE SILVEY picked
k = a distinctive outfit
for her Grapevine
( debut. Actually,
А she's been play-

ing a gangster's
moll on British
TV—and you

know how the
= British love
į leather.
=~
$
8
É
H
Getting a Bead on It
That's exactly what designer TONY CHASE has done to
d LORNA LUFT's outfit. Luft has a lot going on, from a part in
а the film Where the Boys Are to talk of a movie with sister Liza.
h Another star is born? d
ў i E
> SG Johnny, We

j- y. , Hardly Knew Ya
f ` We don’t believe
for a minute that — |
singer JOHNNY |
LEE was elected
Miss anything, It's
more likely that a
INGA couple ot good of
boys were having
Tf fun with his hit tune
7. Lookin’ for Love. Be-
sides, what would
Charlene say?

Two for
We pity the poor fool who isn't hip to the MR. T phenomenon, and
we suggest you get a couple of these new Т dolls before he sends
the A-Team over to dismantle your house. He may be harmless, but
when he says be there, we show up.

184

Write if You Get Work

NILE RODGERS needs a big pencil. He's been working hard
for his money, producing David Bowie and making music with
Debbie Harry and Diana Ross. He even found a minute to do а
solo album. For relaxation, Nile endorses his checks.

The Di Is Cast

We wanted you to know about the other PRINCE CHARLES.
one fronts a soul band called The City Beat. The princess
is postor, but we had to look twice. Of his namesake, this
bonny prince says, “People say he's a stuffed shirt, but I think
he's a regular guy."

(6 1983 LYNN GOLDSMITH/GI

Sunny’s Forecast

Actress SUNNY JOHNSON must certainly be the best thing to come out
of Barstow, California. You might have noticed her in Almost Summer or
The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia, but if you didn't, you'll surely
remember her on ice skates in Flashdance. Now that we have seen her up
close, she’s our celebrity (to be) breast of the month.

$
5
i
$
E]
:
i
i

PLAYBOY

SATIN SHEETS

Buy direct from manufacturer sansu-
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Machine wash and dry, seamless, no
ironing, 8 colars: Black, Brown, Bur-
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casas.

Twinset $29.00 Queen set $46.00
Fullset $39.00 Kingset $53.00
Waterbed set (specify size) 558.00
3 Letter Monogram an 2 cases $4.00
(Add $2.50 Postage & Handling)

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oR
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date) and 6% salas tax for Calif. Resi-
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NEXT MONTH:

SAM E С RACHEL WARD

еї

PLEASINGLY PLUMP

DAO JADDARRA.

“BETRAYAL: THE FINAL LEGACY OF JOHN LENNON"—THE AS-
TONISHING STORY OF THE OPPORTUNISTS WHO HAVE PICKED
OVER HIS REMAINS—BY DAVID AND VICTORIA SHEFF

“THE 16TH SUMMER OF DAQ JADDARRA"—FRESH FROM THE
PERILS OF THE DESERT, A YOUNG ADVENTURER FINDS NEW DAN-
GERS IN THE EYES OF HIS HOST'S WIFE-BY LENNY KLEINFELD

“SAM SHEPARD, AMERICAN ORIGINAL"—AS ACTOR, PULITZER
PRIZE-WINNING PLAYWRIGHT, MUSICIAN AND COWBOY, THIS GUY
DEFINITELY HAS THE RIGHT STUFF—BY ROB GOLDBERG

“BIG & BEAUTIFUL"—RUBENS PAINTED THEM PLEASINGLY PLUMP,
AND THOSE WHO (LIKE HIM) PREFER THEIR WOMEN BUILT FOR
COMFORT, NOT FOR SPEED, WILL LOVE THIS PICTORIAL.

*PLAYBOY'S GUIDE TO WHEELS" WILL BRING YOU THE RETURN
OF THE SEXY CAR, BEST BIKES, HOW YOUR CAR WORKS, A DISSERTA-
TION ON CAR STEREO AND A LOOK AT AUTO LUST.

*THE MANLY ARTS: A CONTEMPORARY GUIDE"—LET'S FACE IT,
GUYS, THERE REALLY ARE SOME THINGS WE DO BETTER. KILL
BUGS, FOR EXAMPLE. A WITTY LOOK AT SEXUAL PATTERNS—BY
D. KEITH MANO

“RACHEL, RACHEL"—MISS WARD IS ONE OF THE CINEMA'S RAV-
ING BEAUTIES. HERE'S HOW SHE GOT HER START

"QUARTERLY REPORTS: GOING FOR BROKERS”—YOU PROBABLY
THINK OF YOUR STOCKBROKER AS A COUNSELOR. GUESS AGAIN:
HE'S A SALESMAN—BY ANDREW TOBIAS

“IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE PORNO HOUSE?"—NOT YET, BUT
PREMED STUDENT BRIDGETTE (TALK DIRTY TO ME, PART Il) MONET
HOPES TO PUT ONE THERE. A FASCINATING PICTORIAL

Nissan is proud to sponsor.

ABC-TV’ telecast of the

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1981 ABC Inc.

“Star in Motion”

31980 L.A. Olympic Committee.

PLE THE Л)

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атат

AUVMSSA,

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined ^ ,

That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health. Experience the

Camel taste in Lights and Filters.

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