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PRESENTING DELUXE LACQUERED SPRAYS. SUPERBLY SLEEK. 


PLAYBILL 


WELCOME TO 1986. Our handsome new PLAYBOY, just three months 
old, rolls into the new year with no intention of looking back. 
Come along for the ride. 

In this month's Playboy Interview with Dr. Ruth Westheimer, the 
grandmotherly guru of good sex exchanges bedtime stories with 
Senior Staff Writer James R. Petersen—the Playboy Advisor him- 
self. The world’s most prominent sex experts don't agree on a lot 
of things, but neither did Reagan and Gorbachev at their meet- 
ing. And the Westheimer-Petersen summit is juicier. 

Next on the itinerary is a visit to the Soviet Union with the 
scion of the times. Guided by Misha, his interpreter and literary 
agent, Ron Reagan blazed a gonzo trail through the land of the 
K.G.B. and the home of the gray. He escaped with While Lenin 
Slept, a twitched travel guide to his dad's favorite evil empire. 
The elaborate pop-up is by Blair Drawson. 

Once, a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shock- 
ing; now anything goes. Premarital, communal, homosexual, 
even impersonal sex are lifestyles, not taboos; but what about 
sadomasochism? Ouch. S/M shakes the balance of power in our 
egalitarian society. In The Last Closet, D. Keith Mano submits 5/ М 
to analysis and finds that while the truth can hurt, it's not neces- 
sarily something to be aflayed of and it can also set you free. 

The shortage of freedom in South Africa has many Ameri 
justly decrying its government. But five years of (the elder) Re: 
gan, says Hodding Carter IIl in South Africa at Home; Reagan and 
the Revival of Racism, has given the American civil rights record 
a black mark of its own. If we're going to turn up our noses at 
Krugerrands, Carter implies, we shouldn't ignore the virtual 
apartheid in our own back yard. 

Only child Jean Penn's Everybody and His Brother looks at sib- 
ling rivalry and brotherly love through the eyes of the brothers 
Keach, Carradine, Gatlin, Quaid, Stallone, Hines et al., while 
husbanding your assets is Andrew Tobias’ topic. The Year in Money EN 
is a pecuniary parade in review, featuring Tobias’ assessments of 
1985's most notorious financial bleeps and bloopers. 

In our holiday fiction, Nobel Prize winner Gabriel Garcia 
Márquez’ Miss Forbes's Summer of Happiness, delectably illustrated 
by Mel Odom, follows two boys who follow their governess into a 
world of strange nighttime tastes, Ken Kesey, who jokes that his 
last РГАҮВОҮ work was “soiling the March 1979 centerfold,” plays 
it straighter in an unusual pastoral called Killer, illustrated by 
Walter Gurbo, while The Universal Karmic Clearinghouse—with 
cosmic illustration by New York graffiti artist Keith Haring —is 
Robert Sheckley's oddly plausible explanation of the planet Earth's 
run of bad luck. 

Luck has nothing to do with the success rate of Anson Mount, 
our sports prognosticator. In Playboy's College Basketball Preview, 
Mount looks into his crystal round ball and sees Orange— 
Syracuse fans, rejoice. 

You've juked to the sound tracks of Don Johnson's Miami Vice 
and Melanie Griffith's Body Double. Now give the once-over to Dou- 
ble Take, Contributing Photographer Richard Fegley's look at two 
up-and-coming stars before they up and came. And if you've 
wondered how one of today’s hottest fashion models might hold 
up in the heat of her African homeland, you'll see it was no sweat 
for Iman in Peter Beard's sizzling pictorial, Beauty and the Beasts. 

Dan Jenkins is in an old-fashioned funk, and our Sports colum- 
nists What's the Deal with Food? ought to put nouvelle cuisine 
back where Jenkins thinks it belongs—in foreign lands. There 
arc more laughs in Bill Zehme's 20 Questions with B.M.O.C. Jay 
Leno and in That Was the Year That Was, by Associate Editor Kevin 
Cook, doggerel's best friend 

We've also got a deliciously smooth Miss January, Sherry 
Arnett; Playboy's Playmate Review, an encore by last year's 12 
most beautiful women; William Jeanes’s ode to big wheels, The 
Loveliness of the Long-Distance Runner; our great monthly col- 
umns; and more. All between Andy Warhol's cover and Next 
Month—when we'll pick you up again for another ride. WARHOL. JENKINS 


n: 


GARCÍA 


‘© JILL KREMENTZ 


TWIST 
AND SHOUT 


8 1985 Renfield Importers, Ltd., New York, N.Y. 


MMM E Шер bete TASTE IS SON 


AMA 


PLAYBOY 


vol. 33, no. 1—january 1986 CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


MEN... ac doses золу: ada conoces ASA BABER 35 


[WOMEN TEES ERE ee CNT TATEM ELSE 37) 
AGAINST THE WIND... ке - CRAIG VETTER 39 
THE |PLAYBOYJADVISOR Ze е а ee 43 
DEAR PLAYMATES. .. 47 Bodies Double 
THE PLAYBOY FORUM . 550 5 o EST 
VIEWPOINT: SEXUAL MCCARTHYISM HUGH М. HEFNER 58 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: DR. RUTH WESTHEIMER—candid conversation ......... 61 


п... GABRIEL GARCÍA MARQUEZ 78 
HOLLIS WAYNE 82 
. EMANUEL GREENBERG 84 
RON REAGAN 89 


MISS FORBES'S SUMMER OF HAPPINESS— 
HOT JACKETS fashion. 
COLD SCHNAPPS—drink 

WHILE LENIN SLEPT—article......... 
DOUBLE TAKE—pictorial .......-.... 


94 
REAGAN AND THE REVIVAL OF RACISM—essay - -. HODDING CARTER ІШ 106 
THE 11TH-HOUR SANTA—gifts . * 109 


KILLER—fictian........... 3 ..KEN KESEY 112 
THE LOVELINESS OF THE LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER—article. . . . WILLIAM JEANES 116 
EVERYBODY AND HIS BROTHER..................... compiled by JEAN PENN 11B 
RARE SHERRY —playboy's playmate of the month 120 
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor 134 


.D. KEITH MANO 136 
.ANSON MOUNT 139 
ROBERT SHECKLEY 144 


THE LAST CLOSET—essay 
PLAYBOY'S COLLEGE BASKETBALL PREVIEW sports. 
THE UNIVERSAL KARMIC CLEARINGHOUSE- fiction . 


BEAUTY AND THE BEASTS—pictorial 146 
WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH FOOD?—humor . к 156 
20 QUESTIONS: JAY LENO........... o 158 
THE YEAR IN MONEY—article . 160 
PLAYBOY'S PLAYMATE REVIEW—pictorial - 164 
THAT WAS THE YEAR THAT WAS—humar 176 
FAST;FORWARD TASE " 184 
BERNARD AND HUEY—satire 195 
PLAYBOY POTPOURRI ... 3 ^ae TAO f Ses 246 
GRAPEVINE ЕИ 5 кре теді 5 248 


COVER STORY 


Not long after Art Director Tom Staebler and Managing Art Director Kerig 
Pope, designers of this month's cover, asked Andy Warhol to apply his con- 
siderable talents to it, Staebler met Warhol in Chicago. "I've got bunnies 
оп the brain,” said the sultan of chic. And with that he returned to his New 
York studio and began tuning rabbit ears. The result is aur holiday cover, а 
stylish collision of Warhol's hand and piavecy’s timeless Rabbit Head. 


PLAYBOY 


“Last New Year's Eve, I made a resolution to give 
up Candy. Unfortunately, now I'm spending 
even more on Fifi. Thank goodness Ballantine's 
is still a good value. 


Ballantines Scotch. 
The taste is extravagant. 
The price isnt. 


Blended Scotch Whisky. 86 Proof Bottled in Scotland, Imported by "21" Brands. Inc. New York. NY © 1985 


Its double CD player lets you pla 
the hits and skip the isch 4 


Toshiba's mini stereo system offers an optional double CD player that 
lets you program up to 30 selections at a time. The system includes a dual 
cassette | with double-reverse, AM/FM stereo receiver, automatic turn- 
table, 2-way bass reflex speakers and a 5-band In Touch with Tomorrow. 


graphic equalizer. The Toshiba System V-11.It TOSH І ВА 


not only sounds great, it even takes requests. „ымы власна Rond. Wayne. 110770 


PLAYBOY 


HUGH м. HEENER 
editor and publisher 


ARTHUR KRETCHMER editorial director 
and associate publisher 
TOM STAEBLER art director 
GARY COLE photography director 
G. BARRY GOLSON executive editor 


EDITORIAL 


NONFICTION: JAMES MORGAN articles editor; ков 
FLEDER senior editor; FICTION: ALICE K TURNER 
editor; TERESA GROSCH associate editor; PLAYBOY 
GUIDES: MAURY 2. Levy editor; WEST COAST: 
STEPHEN RANDALL editor; STAFF: GRETCHEN 
EDGREN, WILLIAM J. HELMER, PATRICIA PAPANGELIS 
(administration), DAVID STEVENS senior editors; 
ROBERT E CARR, WALTER LOWE, JR, JAMES R PETER 
SEN, JOHN REZEK senior staff writers; KEVIN COOK, 
BARBARA NELLIS, KATE NOLAN, SUSAN MARGOLIS- 
WINTER (new york) associate editors; MONA PLUMER 
assistant editor; MODERN LIVING: ED WALKER 
associate editor; JIM BARKER assistant editor; FASH- 
JON: HOLLIS WAYNE editor; HOLLY BINDERUP assist- 
ant editor; CARTOONS: MICHELLE URRY editor; 
COPY: ARLENE BOURAS editor; JOYCE RUBIN assist- 
ant editor; CAROLYN BROWNE, PHILLIP COOPER, 
JACKIE JOHNSON, MARCY MARCHI. BARI NASH, MARY 
ZION researchers; CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: 
ASA BABER, JOHN BLUMENTHAL, E. JEAN CARROLL, LAL 
RENCE GONZALES, LAWRENCE GROBEL, D. KEITH MANO, 
ANSON MOUNT, REG POTTERTON, DAVID RENSIN, RICH. 
ARD RHODES, JOHN SACK, TONY SCHWARTZ, DAVID 
SHEFF, DAVID STANDISH, BRUCE WILLIAMSON (movies), 
GARY WITZENDURG 


ART 
KERIG POPE managing director; CHET SUSKI, LEN 
WILLIS senior directors; BRUCE HANSEN, THEO KOU- 
WATSOS associate direciors; KAREN GAEBE, KAREN 
GUTOWSKY junior directors; JOSEPH PACZEK assist- 
ant director; FRANK LINDNER, DANIEL REED, ANN 
SEIDL art assistants; SUSAN HOLMSTROM traffic coor- 
dinator; BARBARA HOFFMAN administrative manager 


PHOTOGRAPHY 

MARILYN GRABOWSKI west coast editor; JEFF COHEN 
senior editor; LINDA KENNEY, JAMES LARSON, JANICE 
MOSES, MICHAEL ANN SULLIVAN associate editors; 
PATTY BEAUDET assistant editor; POMPEO POSAR Sen- 
ior staff photographer; DAVID MECEY, KERRY MORRIS 
staff photographers; DAVID CHAN, RICHARD FEGLEY. 
ARNY FREVTAG. RICHARD 1210. LARRY L LOGAN, KEN 
MARCUS, STEPHEN махра contributing phologra- 
phers; TRIA HERMSEN, ELYCE KAPOLAS, PATRICIA 
TOMLINSON stylists; James WARD color lab supervi- 
sor; ROBERT CHELIUS business manager 


PRODUCTION 
JOHN MASTRO director; MARIA MANDIS manager; 
ELEANOKE WAGNER. JODY JURGETO, RICHARD 
QUARTAROLI, RITA JOHNSON assistants 


READER SERVICE 
CYNTHIA LACEY-SIKICH manager 


CIRCULATION 
RICHARD SMITH director; ALVIN WIEMOLD subscrip- 
tion manager 


ADMINISTRATIVE 
J. Р ТІМ DOLMAN assistant publisher; MARCIA 
TERRONES rights ES permissions manager: EILEEN 
KENT contracts administrator 


PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES, INC. 
CHRISTIEHEFNER president 


santo tres ЙӘШ res orem you 
came up with the perfect gift? You could 
tell, because the recipient couldn't believe 
it. He kept asking how you knew. 


Hits The Sweet Spot 

That's the effect ESCORT has on 
drivers. If they don't already have one, 
they've heard of it. And what they've heard 
is that ESCORT is the classic of radar warn- 
ing, the one Road & Track says “...Is highly 
recommended)’ the one Car and Driver 
says “...Is clearly the leader In the 
fleld In value, customer service, and 
performance...’ Over a million drivers 
have chosen ESCORT since it was intro- 
duced in 1978. Probably you know several 
of them, just in your circle of friends. Ask 
about us. 


We'll Stand On Our Record 

Of course they'll say ESCORT works. 
Any consumer product that has sold over 
a million units at the rather steep price 
of $245 each—and has never been dis- 
counted—obviously is in demand. And in 
the world of high-tech electronics, products 
that don't work don't stay in demand for 
seven months, much less seven years. 


Lom 


Highway/ City 
Switch 

But ESCORT makes an overwhelming 
gift for another reason. The way it works. 
You know how a few possessions in this 
life get to be favorites because there's 
just something about them—a certain heft 
and feel, a certain way of going about their 
business—that just seems exactly right. 


Power ON LED 
and Sensor 


Signal Strength 
Meter 


) 
қ 


THE RADAR DEFENSE KIT 


ESCORT comes complete with а moided carrying case, detach. 
able power cord, visor clip and hook end loop mounting, spare 
fuse and alert bulb, and a comprehensive owner's hardbook. 


ESCORT is like that. The case is made of 
heat-treated aluminum, which protects the 
sophisticated components within, and also 
gives a substantial feel. The audible warn- 
ing is the same frequency used for Morse 
code (1024 Hz), which cuts through a 
Ferrari's interior noise, yetwon'tjangle your 
nerves. The alert lamp is controlled by a 
photo-electric eye, which makes it visible 
on the brightest day, yet dims automatically 
for nighttime operation. The list goes on, 
but we'll trust any ESCORT owner to give 
you the details. 


Another Subject, Equally Important 

Meanwhile, here’s an ESCORT feature 
aimed at you, the giver. There is only one 
way to shop and it's the easy way. You buy 
direct from us. Call toll-free. We're as quick 
as UPS. There are no hidden charges. We 
pay all shipping and handling. If you're 
really in a hurry, Federal Express is only a 
little extra. 


Christmas or anytime, we make the 
same promise. If you aren't satisfied within 
30 days, send ESCORT back. We'll refund 
all your money and your return shipping 
cost. We've been making this offer since 

È 1978 and so far it has been refused over 
a million times. We think that's a pretty 
ь overwhelming statistic. 
But around here, overwhelming is 
simply business as usual, Now letus over- 
whelm your favorite driver. 


Try ESCORT At No Risk 
Take the first 30 days with ESCORT 
as a test. If you're not completely 
satisfied return it for a full refund. 
You can't lose. 


ESCORT is also backed with a one 
year warranty on both parts and labor. 


ESCORT $245 (OH res. add $13.48 tax) 
Slightly higher in Canada 


TOLL FREE. . 800-543-1608 


: ll 
VISA 
en 


RES, 
ERS 


By mailsend to address below. Credit 
cards, money orders, bank checks, 
certified checks, wire transfers 
processed immediately. Personal or 
company checks require 18 days. 


RADAR WARNING RECEIVER 


Cincinnati Microwave 
Department 100-007-А13 
One Microwave Plaza 
Cincinnati, Ohio 45296-0100 


Tune in "Talktalk the satelite callin comedy talk show. Sunday evenings on public radio stations. Check local listings. 


© 1985 Cincinnati Microwave. Inc. 


De. 


The butterfly option. Arms 
brace. Pectorals and deltoids strain 
against cast iron weights. Chest 
and shoulders force the arms 
together one more time. 

This is the em/1. Thirteen 
Separate stations strengthen and 
tone your body in as little as 30 
minutes. Completely. Thoroughly. 
At home. 

The workout is hard. 
Changing stations is effortless. 
You spend your time building your 
body, not rebuilding a machine. 

„Тһе ет/1. Performance 

within your reach. 

1 (800) 62MARCY, ext. 50. 


MARCY 


WHEN YOU FINALLY GET SERIOUS. 


© 1985 Marcy Funess Products w 
о 


DEAR PLAYBOY 


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


BOUND FOR GLORY 
I have been a regular reader for at least 
the past 25 years, and I’ve enjoyed every 
issue. In spite of the fact that I expect to 
enjoy each issue, I was especially pleased 
with October's Collector's Edition. The 
Playboy Interview with John DeLorean is 
one of the best ever. Also, a big round of 
applause and appreciation for the team 
of Edwin and Elizabeth Black. Their 
thoughtful The Self-Crucifixion of Cathleen 
Crowell Webb exposes the born-agains for 
what they really are—home-grown Amer- 
ican versions of the ayatollah. Ah, yes, the 
ladies. Stapled or not, they are as beautiful 
as ever. As an Arizona State alumnus and 
fan, I very much appreciate Girls of the Pac 
10. You were right in Playbill—pLavBoY is 
tremendously well put together. 
Hank Glogosh 
Scottsdale, Arizona 


Congratulations on a design job well 
done! The new look is subtle but signifi- 
cant. 1 like the more open, contemporary, 
somewhat European feeling. Keep it up 
and rLAYBOY will remain the leader іп 
graphic and editorial excellence. 

Fred N. Breukelman 

Dover, Delaware 


Give me the old Соке. Give me the old 
PLAYBOY. Give me a break. 

Francis W. Dixon 

Washington, D.C. 


TANGLED WEBB 

I thoroughly appreciate Edwin and 
Elizabeth Black's The Self-Crucifixion of 
Cathleen Crowell Webb (р.лувоү, October). 
My own view of fundamentalism is that it 
is a disease born of fear and a source of un- 
told misery. It has reared its ugly head in 
my life many times—when I was a child, 
when I was a young mother and at various 
times in my later years. 1 never got caught 
up init, but only because of a kindly older 
gentleman whom I knew as a child. He 
was a freethinker. At the time, I thought I 


was listening to him, but I didn’t appre- 
ciate the wisdom of his philosophy until 
many years later. 
Lucille B. Zarse 
Lafayette, Indiana 


PLAYBOY may have a new binding, but its 
editorial judgment still has a staple in the 
middle when it comes to pet peeves, such 
as what PLAYBOY perceives as religious 
repression of sexuality. How else can one 
explain its publishing such an amateurish, 
inconsequential piece as the Blacks’ article 
on the Webb rape case? I have no idea 
whether Webb has been truthful or not, 
nor am I for or against Christianity, but I 
am annoyed to see such fuzzy thinking in a 
magazine of PLAYBOY's quality. Worst of all 
is the Blacks’ amateurish pop-psychology 
interpretations of religious mentality. 
Having obviously failed, after a major 
journalistic investigation, to prove any- 
thing new about the case, they offer a the- 
ory that purports to explain any of three 
possibilities. A theory that can explain any 
outcome is, of course, no theory at all; 
it’s systematic prejudice, just like—you 
know—religion 

Alan Sennett 

Amherst, Massachusetts 


Elizabeth and Edwin Black are to be 
commended for an evenhanded and 
insightful examination of the Cathleen 
Crowell Webb story. Should Webb allow 
herself the secular luxury of reading 
PLAYBOY with the door of her mind opened 
just a tiny bit, the reality, quality and com- 
passion embodied in this article could 
immeasurably brighten her life 

Ralph R. Speas 
Greensboro, North Carolina 


AUTO-DA-FÉ 

Perhaps John DeLorean (Playboy Inter- 
viru, October) believes he is God's gift 
to the auto industry because the guide- 
lines that are being followed by auto exec- 
utives today happened to have come out of 
his mouth first. I think he may believe that 


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THE GOALIS PERFECTION. 


PLAYBOY 


12 


the entire G.M. system went through its 
recent refinements solely because he ques- 
tioned its executives’ morality, trying to 
remind them of their responsibility to 
America and its people. But we all know 
that the recent changes G.M. has made 
are only coincidentally connected to 
DeLorean. As far as the drug charges 
against him are concerned, I think the law- 
enforcement officers involved were only 
too kind. There are hours of video tape, of 
which the public saw only about five 
seconds—when DeLorean finally said, 
“It's as good as gold,” in the nick of time. 
Arshin Tajeri 
Gardena, California 


I can picture DeLorean’s next enter- 
prise designed to generate tax-free capital: 
The D.M.C. (Delorean Movement for 
Christ) Hour. An early-Sunday-moming 
TV slot, right next to the fundamentalists. 
“For а $25,000 contribution, we'll send 
you a brand-new DeLorean, guarantecd to 
drive you in the Lord's way.” The man is 
intelligent, but, hey, John, it’s over, baby! 

Eric Rodrue 
Norfolk, Virginia 


STEAM HEAT 

Please give Cynthia Heimel a big hug 
for her October Women column. I have 
been tormented by a young law student's 
“I got you to love me—see you later” trip, 
and after reading Heimel's column, 1 came 
to a conclusion: What bullshit my wasted 
time and efforts have been! I don't under- 
stand the new breed of sensitive assholes, 
but it is time that we women cease to ana- 
lyze and forgive when what those creeps 
need is dynamite up their asses and a 
heave ho to the moon. Thanks, Cynthia. 
Now I can concentrate on the caring, feel- 
ing, adorable men who make me feel like 1 
should feel—good and like a lady— not like 
aused Kleenex. 


Robin Bailey 
Tinley Park, Illinois 


If Cynthia Heimel and her friends can’t 
handle men without giving them a break, 
they shouldn't handle them at all. Pm 
only 20 years old, and I know that. 

Laura Lockwood 
New York, New York 


Cynthia Heimel has really done it this 
time. Long have I tolerated, without objec- 
tion, her blatantly sexist commentaries, 
but October’s “Letting Off Steam” leads 
me to question her ability to perceive and 
describe modern relations between the 
sexes. Therefore, I'm letting off a little 
myself. Does she really expect me to 
accept her conclusion that all men are 
assholes—sadly neurotic but assholes all 
the same? I could rattle off several atroc- 
ities similar to those perpetrated by the 
men described in Heimel's column. The 
perpetrators in my examples would be of 
both genders, but that doesn't lead me to 


conclude that everybody is a sadly neurotic 
asshole. Heimel disparages the men in 
New York; maybe she'd be happier some- 
where else. Have her give Asa Baber a 
call—he sounds like a nice enough guy, 
and he even does dishes! 

Matt Nash 

Oak Harbor, Washington 


I salute Cynthia Heimel’s “Letting Off 
Steam.” Let’s face it: There are some men 
who thrive on pursuit but are not inter- 
ested in the happiness of the person being 
pursued, Touché, Cynthia! 
Deb Schultz 
Toledo, Ohio 


THE N WORD 
The use of the word nigger—four 

times—in the humorous" Sports column 
by Dan Jenkins in the October PLAYBOY 
makes being a subscriber embarrassing. 1 
won't be one if it happens again. 

Paul Lovett 

Pembroke, Massachusetts 


I am a white reader, but I strenuously 
object to the usc of the word nigger four 
times in Dan Jenkins’ October Sports col- 
umn. 1 think Jenkins could have been just 
as funny without being offensive. Rather 
than hard-hitting social satire, this is a 
lapse in taste! 

George R. Bodmer 
Calumet Gity, Illinois 

Jenkins replies: 

1 can't help the way the coaches talk. If 
these people read my novels, they'd know it 
gets a whole lot worse than that. 


MORE THAN JOY 

PLAYBOY continues to surprise and 
delight me, as it has for 25 years. Thomas 
McGuane's Sportsmen (pLavsoy, October) 
is superb. Sensitively observed and bril- 
liantly written, McGuane's perception of 
life's sweetest moments—and their avail- 
ability to those who will seek them regard- 
less ОҒ circumstance—is both powerful 
and tender. Would a youthful quadriplegic 
consider a day spent in a snowstorm of 
ducks something more than joy? Damn 
right! McGuane shows us that excitement, 
in any form, is the essence of life. For 20 
years, Гуе been paralyzed by a broken 
neck garnered while surfing. Excitement 
sifted from life keeps me going each day. 
Bravo, McGuane, for reminding me. And 
thanks, PLAYBOY, for publishing a great 
magazine. 

Bill Wise 


Harrington, Delaware 


UNFAZED 

Being a winner in the Playboy $200,000 
Sweepstakes didn’t faze me very much. 
I've been a winner with PLAYBOY since 
1953. The publication has changed the 
way America, and perhaps the world, 
looks at sex and interpersonal relation- 
ships. (As an aside, I started collecting 


PLAYBOY when I was in college. I was ten 
when H.M.H. put together that first issue 
in 1953. When I graduated from college in 
1969, I began to round out my eLavgoy col- 
lection, paying $200 for issue number 
one.) While winning a radar detector is 
nice, speeding through life with the entire 
PLAYBOY collection has been the real thrill. 
Mike Harris 
Sunnyvale, California 


PERFECT 
І have torn myself away from the Octo- 
ber issue long enough to comment on Miss 
October, Cynthia Brimhall. She is the per- 
fect Playmate of the Year for 1986. 
Joe Jones 
Five Forks, West Virginia 


PACIFIC BELLES 
I just finished reading your October is- 

sue and must say you've outdone your- 
selves. Talk about a bevy of beauties! Girls 
of the Pac 10 proves that the best is in the 
West! Having graduated from Oregon a 
few years ago, 1 wanted to see who repre- 
sented my alma mater. Needless to say, I 
wasn't disappointed; Kimberley Kristeen 
and Kristin Hera left me weak in the 
knees. So what if it rains in Oregon? I'm 
staying! 

Rick Alexander 

Portland, Oregon 


Girls of the Pac 10 is great, but one coed 
stands head and shoulders above the rest. 
Kristin Hera of the University of Oregon 
gets our vote for Best of the West. We have 
only two questions. When can we see more 
of her? Is it too late to transfer to the Uni- 
versity of Oregon? 

The Men of Delta U; 
University of V 
Madison, Wisconsin 

Responding to your questions іп order, 

4 


men: (1) Now; (2) no, but what will you do 
when we do "Girls of the Big Ten" again? 


Marlboro Red or Longlióim 104 
you geta ly pue. 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Smoking 
Causes Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, 
Emphysema, And May Complicate Pregnancy. 


16 mg "tar; 1.0 mg nicotine ¢ 
av. per cigarette, FTC Report Feb.'B5 


100 PROOF 


_ RUMPLE MINZE FERPERMIND SCHNAPPS. IMPORTED FROM GERMANY. ENJOY IN MODERATION. 
Liqueur: Imported by The Paddington Corp., New York, NY, U.S.A. 


nc ] 
А v n 


PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


OH, CHUTE! 
He should have just dropped us a line. A 
sky-diving smuggler wearing combat 


fatigues and packing pistols, knives and 80 
pounds of cocaine plunged to his death in 
a Knoxville, Tennessee, back yard when 
his parachute failed to open. The flattened 
felon was discovered by 85-ycar-old Fred 
Meyers, who remarked, “I’ve never had a 
landing in my back yard before. 1 got up to 
shave, looked out my window and saw 
him.” Authoritics believe the dead man, a 
former Army paratrooper and Lexington, 
Kentucky, narcotics officer, was a member 
ofa notorious drug-smuggling gang known 
as the Company and that his free- 
fall fiasco cost the gang more than 
$13,000,000. 


. 

А villager іп southern Sumatra has 
spent the past 19 months on top of a 
65-foot coconut tree to keep out of reach of 
his creditors. Ignoring the orders of local 
officials and pleas from his wife to put his 
feet back on the ground, he said, “I won't 
come down until I get divine inspiration.” 
In the meantime, he spends his time sing- 
ing and giving personal advice and lottery 
predictions to his fans and supporters, 
who send up food and drinks in return. 

. 

A sad note from a society calling itself 
Depressives Associated arrived at a Mid- 
lands, England, library: “Dear Sir, I am 
retuming your register form. (i) Depres- 
sives Associated no longer exists. (ii) Most 
of the members have committed (a) sui- 
cide (b) themselves to psychiatric units.” 

. 

Anyone who's ridden a Paris Métro ona 
hot day in July has ample reason to sus- 
pect that the French do not bathe as often 
as they should. Now there's proof—the 
result of a study conducted by the French 
perfume industry. The French annually 
use only 4.2 bars of soap, 2.9 tubes of tooth 
paste, 2.8 bottles of shampoo and .9 con- 
tainer of deodorant. That's significantly 
fewer of these products than their Euro- 


pean neighbors use. But instead of asking 
the impenetrable question Why don’t 
they bathe more often? perhaps it’s better 
to find out under what circumstances they 
do. The study lists three reasons, in this 
order: a medical examination, l'amour and 
a job interview. 


ORIS IT MEMOREX? 


Henry A. Ramirez of Jacksonville, Flor- 
ida, was awakened by the squeal of brakes 
and the sounds of a car crash. He sleepily 
stumbled downstairs. Just as he suspected: 
The Late, Late Show was playing on his 
ТУ. He shut off the set and went back to 
bed. It wasn't until the next morning that 
he noticed a pickup truck parked in the 
middle of his dining room. 

. 

God Is My Automatic Copilot Department: 
After the pilot of a small plane responded 
unintelligibly to air-traffic-control com- 
munications soon after take-off from a 
New Mexico airstrip, A.T.C. asked the 


crew of an Air Force C-130 that was in 
flight at the time to look at the plane for 
signs of life; none were observed. Eventu- 
ally, the plane ran ош of gas and 
descended. At a certain altitude, sensors in 
the plane lowered the landing gear. The 
plane landed and hit a rock, which tore the 
wheels of. The pilot, a victim of hypoxia, 
survived. The most amazing thing about 
the incident, when you think about it, is 
that the plane stayed aloft for three hours 
with an unconscious man at the controls 
before crashing safely—from a height of 
25,000 feet. 
. 

Tt doesn't do much for Farm Aid, but it 
could be a blast anyway: The Charlottes- 
ville, Virginia, Daily Progress ran this clas- 
sified ad: “Hay ride with barn fire 
following. Fun for everyone.” 

. 

For those who can't stand to sec their 
pooch cating less well than they, 
Mountainside Products, Inc., of Pittsfield, 
Vermont, makes dog biscuits in the shape 
of croissants, doughnuts or chocolate-chip 
cookies that come in slick white bags with 
see-through windows. These upscale 
snacks go for $6.50 a bag. Think of them as 
Yuppie Puppy Chow. 

. 


Mickey Mantle, who isn’t known for his 
perspicacity in business, once opened a 
short-lived fast-food chain called Mickey 
Mantle's Country Cookin’, which sold, 
among other down-home specialties, coun- 
try fried chicken. Mantle has suggested 
that the failure of his cookin’ to catch on 
was perhaps caused in no small part by its 
slogan: “To get a better piece of chicken, 
you'd have to be a rooster.” 

. 

Бау what? "MAN MINUS EAR WAIVES HEAR: 
1x6,” trumpeted the headline in the Jack- 
son, Tennessee, Sun. 


FLATFOOT: THE MOVIE 


Three dozen policemen converged on a 
Buffalo, New York, court building when an 


A FO ПЕНН 


Americans love to buy neu-and-improved products. In the old days, products were 
improved by adding some harmless inert substance that was lying around the lab and 


giving it a fancy пате, as in " 


"Мош with Floro-Dust!” Nowadays, people don't fall for 


that kind of cheap trick—today's Yuppie consumers live streamlined lives, and they want 
streamlined products. The result has been the proliferation of goods that give you every- 
thing you could ask for from life, only less. Here are just a few of the leaner, lighter, 
smaller, blander or otherwise emasculated products youll soon find on store shelves. 


P*RRI*R LITE 


This will still come from the same 
holy spring in France the company has 
used since the dawn of man, but mod- 
ern distillation techniques will help 
improve nature's frog water. This elite 
beverage will be totally free of natural 
minerals, many of which are found in 
dead people, and all effervescence will 
be removed in response to a recent 
study that linked carbonation to burp- 
ing. What's left will be undetectable to 
the palate, which will keep it from 
interfering with the taste of the wedge 
of low-calorie, acid-free, skinless lime. 


L.A. RUBBING ALCOHOL 


What do you say when you need a 
lite rubdown after a lite workout? Why 
not say L.A.—to the new low-alcohol 
rubbing alcohol that doesn’t smell up 
the locker room and won't give you a 
headache if you inhale too much. Face 
it, responsible, health-conscious adults 
just don't need alcohol—not in their 
beer, not in their gasoline and certainly 
not on their skins. 

So next time you say yes to a stimu- 
lating rubdown, say OK—to L.A. with 
only .5 percent alcohol. Because no- 
body wants a rubbing alcohol that 
stings on cuts and evaporates the 
moment you rub it on. 


BONSAI DOGS 


Everybody loves dogs, but the tra 
tional pooch is just too big for today's 
luxuriously tiny apartments in fashion- 
ably expensive neighborhoods. 

Leave it to the Japanese to create the 
ultimate miniature Fidos. Using a 
combination of bonsai techniques and 
Chinese foot-binding secrets, Nippon 
MicroPets can now create a full-grown 
Irish wolfhound that can live comfort- 
ably in a shoe box. Seven breeds of 
down-scaled pets will soon be offered at 
trendy pooch stores everywhere—from 
an Afghan the size of a dust mop to a 


poodle no bigger than a grape. They 
look just like their full-size counter- 
parts, only a little twisted. 


INERT ASPIRIN 


If you love the great taste of aspirin 
but can do without its bothersome 
pain-killing side effects, this is perfect. 
Whether you're lounging around the 
office or working hard at the health 
club, these little aspirin-flavored nug- 
gets are a taste sensation that won't 
dull your senses. After all, who needs 
hangover medicine these days, when 
the strongest stuff anyone drinks is 
Orangina? 


DESIGNER-FREE UNDERWEAR 


Lets be real: Nobody cares who 
designed your underwear, not even 
your mother. So why pay big money for 
autographed shorts when you can pay a 
little bit more and get Designer-Free 
underwear? These  one-size-fits-all 
squares of white absorbent cotton can 
be adjusted with safety pins for a cus- 
tom-tailored fit, and you'll feel better 
knowing you did it yourself. If you 
want nondesigner colors, try not wash- 
ing them for six months. 


WHITE MEAT™ 


America has turned its collective 
back оп red meat—it’s chock-full of fat 
and calories, and it clashes when you 
put it on a plate next to alfalfa sprouts 
and brie. 

Thank God for White Meat™, the 
new beef that comes from wealthy cat- 
tle. Raised in luxury and spoiled rotten 
at exclusive suburban country clubs, 
these albino moo bossies live just like 
the people who will one day eat them at 
outdoor cafés. After each animal is 
slaughtered with a drug overdose, the 
meat is aged in France to make it bor- 
ing. The process removes all flavor, tex- 
ture and color, leaving it with all the. 
qualities that have made tofu so popu- 
lar in the past few years —TERRY RUNTE 


actor delivering a Rambo-gram went іп to 
ask for directions. Twenty-eight-year-old 
Mark Stancapiano stepped from his car at 
the city court building, bare-chested, 
wearing baggy fatigues and a bandanna, 
like the character portrayed by Sylvester 
Stallone in Rambo: First Blood Part H. He 
was carrying a replica of a Soviet assault 
rifle. Police sealed off the area. One of Buf- 
falo’s finest stalked the actor, slipped on 
an escalator and shot himself in the foot. 
The Stallone clone was charged with dis- 
orderly conduct for carrying a fake 
weapon. When released, he said, “I didn't 
mean to scare everybody. . . . I’m not a 
crazed psycho, although those Buffalo 
policemen didn't know that for a while.” 
. 

What's the sound оҒопе hand washing? 
The New York Times reports the “in” place 
to be at New York's major rock clubs: 
“Bathrooms are very important places for 
socializing,” and young professional types 
are signing up to work in them as attend- 
ants. They earn, it says, “more than $150 
a night on tips.” 


. 
Now, this is the sign of a truly probusi- 
ness Administration: A Washington Post 
headline reported, “D.C. STREET VENDORS GET 
NEW CURES TODAY." 
. 

Ме won't even comment on his name: 
Yim Fuk-yiu, an alarm-system installer, 
was arrested in Hong Kong when he was 
found squatting on a toilet in a women’s 
rest room and was fined $500 for loitering. 
Fuk-yiu pleaded not guilty, saying he was 
there out of desperation because he had 
had stomach trouble while installing a 
burglary system in the building and the 
men’s rest room was locked. The only flaw 
in Fuk-yiu’s case was that he was found 
squatting with his pants still on. 


. 

We applaud the Albany Times Union for 
pointing out a catchy turn of phrase by 
neonatalist Dr. Albert Bartoletti. The pa- 
per reported that “many premature 
babies, who could be helped under the 
care of a full complement of neonatal 
health-care specialists, are (in Dr. Barto- 
letti's words) ‘falling through the cracks.” ” 

. 

The first edition of the San Francisco 
49ers’ media guide was quickly yanked 
from circulation and a second printing was 
scheduled. It seems a public-relations 
writer at the ‘Niners’ office had referred to 
coach Bill Walsh’s “vastly futile mind.” 


. 

The Sarasota, Florida, Herald Tribune 
reports that a prisoner who set fire to him- 
self in a suicide attempt is now suing the 
maker of his inmate's uniform for dam- 
ages. The man, who was arrested for steal- 
ing a woman's underwear and then 
burning it, claims that the company had 
an obligation to provide clothing that was 
flame-retardant. Perhaps it should make 
clothing that is retardproof, too. 


Leading ИЙ, Sie 


Herringbone “V`; orig /reg. 5320 
Herringbone "V^ orig /reg. $560 


2; Herringbone “V`, orig /reg. $800 


7" Six-braid lace herringbone, 

orig /reg. $600 

7' Design twist herringbone, 

orig /reg. $170.00 

7: Double rope, orig./reg. $260.00. 


3 7" Three- braid wrap herringbone, 


ig.reg. $280.00... .. 
в" Open link, orig. rec. $400 
Quadruple bevelled herringbone. 
7" orig/reg. $280 
8" orig /reg. 5340 
Solid diamond cut гор 
7: ofig./reg. $400 
8" orig /reg. 5480 
Fancy link charm bracelet, 
orig /reg. $540 


М Braided serpentine with beads." 


N. 


16° orig /reg. $120 
18° orig /reg. $160 


Twist herringbone, 16° orig./reg. $125. 


18" orig /reg. $140 
lor braided herringbon 


18" orig /reg 
Foxtail design herringbone, 
18° orig./reg. $ 
20" orig./reg 
lor design herringboi 
rig./reg. $170 


Triple bevelled herringbone. 
18° orig /reg. $200 
20" orig ./reg. 5220 
diamond cut rope, 
18° orig./reg. $400 
20" orig.ireg. $460 
Diamond-cut link, 18" orig. /reg. $500. 


inaliregular prices 
ching bracelets available 


$159.00 
$279.00 
$399.00 


5299.00 


5 84.99 
$129.00 


$139.00 
$199.00 


5139.00 
5169.00 


3199.00 
5239.00 


5269.00 


$ 59.99 
$ 79.99 
$ 49.99 
$ 69.99 


$ 9900 
$115.00 


5105.00 
5119.00 


5 78.99 
5105.00 


5 99.00 
5110.00 


5199.00 
5229.00 
5249.00 


33%- 50% Ol О 
МКТ GOLL 


ARRINGS 


A. Large fancy shrimp, reg. $140 ....... $ 6999 
В. Filigree hoop, reg. $120. 

C. Large kissing ram, reg. 5100 

. Mula diamond & pearl drop, reg. $230 dE | 
E. Gold mesh square, reg. $ 999 | 
F. Large swirl button, reg. БЕКЕН 
G. Large bold wing, reg. $140 $ 6999 
Н. Triple diamond & pearl swirl, reg. $200 $129.00 
J. Double pearl diamond leaf, reg. $200. $129.00 
K. Bold diamond drop, reg. $300 $199.00 
1. Diamond twisted hoop, reg. $150 .... $ 9900 
M. Diamond triple hoop, reg. 5300...... $199.00 
N. Dramatic diamond drop, reg. $300 ... $199.00 
P. Dramatic tricolor drop, reg. $200..... $ 9900 
Q. Fancy tricolor drop, reg. $140. $ 6999 
R. Tricolor braided drop, reg. $80 $ 3999 


"regular prices of select styles. 
All pearls are cultured 


ABOUT ZALES 
DIAMOND CARD" INSTANT CREDIT. 


Zales New 15 + 15 Plan... where you get $1,500 
credit in 15 minutes with a valid VISA, MasterCard, 
American Express, Carte Blanche or Diners Club 
Card. Credit available upon approval of qualified 
applicants. 


Sale ends December 31, 1985. Selection may vary 
by store, Alliter ubjeci topriorsale. Merchandise | 
enlarged to sho 


DIAMOND 


ANNIVERSARY RINGS 
A. Va CL LW. 
BIchtw.......$ 
Available in EJ 4 00 


ALL DIAMOR Ds Sou TAIR 


Every diamond solitaire in stock ... rings. 


endants and earrings -.. on sale row at 
Hes TER ales at 25% off! 
All in 14K gol. Merchandise enlarged to show datail. Carat weight FROM $150 
тау vary опну pls or minus 02 carat EXAMPLES LIKE THESE 
pendant, orig. $550 
: pendant, orig, 51,150: 
Ew earrings, orig. $310 
ings, orig. S875 
In. earings, org. 51350 
ж $550 


їп. orig. $1,150 


Сай то 7 (Tm | erre pis 
ДО 


VIC GARBARINI 


SURE, you can always run out at the last 
minute and grab a copy of Almost (But Not 
Quite) the Best of the Eagles Volume XVI or 
whatever the industry is serving up for the 
pre-Christmas feeding frenzy. Herewith, 
some alternatives. 

For the reggae fan: legend (Island) is a 
Bob Marley and the Wailers retrospective 
that captures the essence of Marley's spir- 
itual, political and musical message. Half 
the selections have been remixed for the 
US. release, but don’t panic. Tracks such 
as Exodus and Jamming are vastly superior 
in these punchier versions to the originals, 
making this a greatest-hits collection with 
something extra. 

For the jazz fan: Christmas records are 
usually a seasonal gimmick, but God Rest 
Ye Merry Jazzmen (Columbia) is the excep- 
tion to the rule. Such luminaries as Wyn- 
ton Marsalis, Dexter Gordon and Arthur 
Blythe take carols as the jumping-of point 
for some first-class improvisation. 

For the Big Chill generation: Gerri Ніг- 
shey's Nowhere to Run (| es Books) is the 
definitive book on Sixties soul music. 
There's still We Are the World (Columbia) 
and the Jagger/Bowie single Dancing in the 
Street (EMI-America)— with all proceeds 
going to famine relief. If the title track of 
the former is a bit shopworn by now, what 
the hell. There are still great previously 
unreleased performances by Tina Turner, 
Prince, Springsteen and Huey Lewis. 


ROBERT CHRISTGAU 


As а rock'n'roll fan, I like simple little 
sets with a good beat, but I also like sur- 
prises. So when I give the gift of music, I 
try to surprise my friends. These simple 
little songs with a good beat aren't rock n” 
roll, strictly speaking—they're jazz, pre- 
R&B, country, all by undeniable, irre- 
istible masters. But cultural history plus a 
good time equals serious fun. And that is 
rock ’n’ roll. 

Lovis Armstrong and Earl Hines 1928 
(Smithsonian, $18.98 from Box 10230, 
Des Moines, Iowa 50336, or dial 
1-800-247-5072): As with so many virtuo- 
sos, part оГ Armstrong's genius was 10 
make it sound easy; so while the simplicity 
here is an illusion, that spark of spontane- 
ity is exactly what he wanted. 

Memphis Jug Band (Yazoo, $13.23 from 
245 Waverly Place, New York, New York 
10014): Here the simplicity is a reality— 
Will Shade’s Beale Strecters were as 
drolly commercial a novelty group as the 
Coasters. Jacket by R. Crumb. 

The Best of fats Waller (Book-of-the- 
Month, $28.70 from Camp Hill, Pennsyl- 
vania 17012): Night-clubbers of the 
Thirties thought this pioneering рор 
recontextualizer was the bee’s knees, and 
he was so grateful that he laughed with 


Our reviewers 
do your shopping 
for you. 


them instead of at them. 

The Bob Wills Anthology (Columbia): A 
benignly manipulative bandleader wields 
reels and breakdowns and blues and ran- 
cheras and, of course, swing and, of course, 
pop so shamelessly that he shows up most 
rock “eclecticism” for the dabbling it is. 

Charlie Parker/Bird/The Savoy Recordings 
(Master Takes) (Savoy Jazz, $11.98 from 160 
West 71st Street, New York, New York 
10023); The Very Best of Bird (Warner): 
Jazz’s greatest improvisor was also a brash 
young rebel (he was 25, and Miles Davis 
only 19, when Savoy's amazing Ko-Ko was 
cut) and one of America's wiliest tune- 
smiths (especially on Warner's even more 
highly recommended Dial recordings). 

The Complete Blue Note Recordings of The- 
lonious Monk (Mosaic, $37 from 197 Straw- 
berry Hill Avenue, Stamford, Connecticut 
06902): Speaking of wily tunesmiths, this 
one was considered impossibly far out well 
into the Fifties. Now Joe Jackson and Todd 
Rundgren cover him. 

The Best of Louis Jordan (MCA): While 
the beboppers turned to the left, this prime 
R&B influence sold millions of records. 
Find out what Chuck Berry didn't invent. 

Hank Williams/40 Greatest Hits (Polydor): 
The essence of honky-tonk—when he 
wasn't making it up, he was buying it 
cheap. 


CHARLES M. YOUNG 


In the true spirit of Christmas, this is 
what want from Santa: a CD player, be- 
cause the technology is worth i 


For someone who discovered Dire 
Straits with Brothers in Arms: Love Over 
Gold (Warner). Side one is one of the great- 
est guitar symphonies ever carved into 
vinyl and was underappreciated when first 
released. 

For a counterculture graduate who 
hasn't discovered New Age sounds yet: 
Music for 18 Musicians (ECM/Warner, 
1978), by Steve Reich. Absolutely the best 
trance music I’ve ever heard, guaranteed 
to induce alpha waves within 60 seconds. 
Pd also recommend Reich's latest, The 
Desert Music (Nonesuch), which in- 
corporates a text by William Carlos Wil- 
liams and requires slightly more active 
listening. 

For an acoustic-guitar worship 
ton Reed has the most nimble finge: 
modern-American-folk-post-Leo-Kottke-ac- 
cessible-melody-with-mostly-major-chords- 
but-a-few- Windham -Hill-diminished-chords 
idiom. The man’s an ace. Look for Pointing 
Up and Playing by Ear (Flying Fish) 

For a metal head who worships Satan: 
Hell Awaits (Combat/Metal Blade), by 
Slayer. The quintessence of Eighties 
demon metal—every song is about death. 

For a metal head who isn’t so sure he 
worships Satan: Ride the Lightning 
(Elektra), by Metallica. The quintessence 
of Eighties speed metal—every song is 
about death. 

For a metal head who worships Bozo: 
World Wide Live (Mercury/PolyGram), by 
the Scorpions. The quintessence of Eight- 
ies false metal—every song is not about 
death. 

For a metal head who worships God: 
Soldiers Under Command (Enigma), by 
Stryper. The quintessence of Eighties 
Christian metal—whosoever heareth this 
Styx-meets-Billy Graham quartet shall 
not perish but have eternal life. 


DAVE MARSH 


Michael Jackson’s Thriller spent 78 
weeks in the Billboard top ten, onc of the 
longest stays there since that of Johnny 
Mathis’ Greatest Hits. As in the Mathis 
era, such longevity has a lot to do with a 
lack of alternatives. Given similar lack of 
competition, Bruce Springsteen’s Born in 
the US.A. scems destined to equal or 
eclipse Thriller's total by Christmas. 

Since Pm Spri п’ friend, fan and 
biographer, tl me just fine, but I 
can't help wondering just who the hell is 
still buying this thing. Born in the U.S.A. 
has sold more copies than any album in 
CBS Records’ history not made by 
Michael Jackson, and yet it hangs up there 
on the charts. So who's still shelling out? 
People who've worn out their original cop- 
? Folks who don't buy any album unless 
it contains six hit singles? Converts from 
Springsteen's live shows? It beats me. At 


Of all the beers in this world, theres 
only one brewed around the world, in 
the great beer drinking countries. Löwenbräu. 
Brewed in Munich. Brewed in England, 
Sweden, Canada, Japan and here in America. 
Here, as ar the world, aromatic 


Hallertau hops are imported to give 
Шш Ку н N 


` And Munich% brewmasters ensure that the 
Löwenbräu brewedin each country meets 
distinctive taste and quality standards. 
“That's how you get 600 years of Bavarian 
heritage in one smooth American beer. 


~~ This World Calls For Lówenbráu. 


` 1985 Miller Brewing Co. Miwaukse, УЙ, 


SING THAT FUNKY MUSIC, WHITE KIDS, DEPARTMENT: Just when we think we've told you every 
weird rock-'n'-roll story we know, another one comes along to top it. This time we've 
heard it all. Really. Rick James is writing songs for Donny and Marie Osmond: He thinks. 
he can funk them up. We admit it's an irresistible thought. Stay tuned for further develop- 
ments. Meanwhile, we're going to hum a few bars of Superfreak, just to get in the mood. 


REELING AND ROCKING: Look for David 
Bowie in Absolute Beginners, also featur- 
ing Ray Davies and Sade. . . . Rodney Dan- 
gerfield has asked David Lee Roth to 
record a song for his upcoming film, 
Back to School. In return, Roth asked 
Dangerfield to appear in Crazy from the 
Heal, his film project. . . . Are you 
ready? The Fat Boys are making a movie, 
The Fat Boys on the Road, and they are 
also doing Swatch Watches com- 
mercials. . . . Bob Geldof will star іп 
The Fantasist; he'll play a murderer. . . . 
Brad Fiedel, who scored The Terminator, 
Fright Night and Compromising Posi- 
lions, is working on the score of Desert 
Bloom, which stars Jon Voight, JoBeth 
Williams and Ellen Barkin. . . . Tom Waits 
is co-starring in Jim Jermusch's follow- 
up to Stranger than Paradise, called 
Doum by Law. 

NEWSBREAKS: The next Commodores al- 
bumis in the works. . . . Billy Idol is tour- 
ing in support of his latest album. 

A new Culture Club album is due out 
right about now. . . . Tom Petty filmed 
two concerts last summer in“L.A. Foot- 
age will be used in his video and for a 
TV special . Huey Lewis and the 
News got two good years out of Sports. 
After a rest, they'll go back into the stu- 
dio and see what they can come up 
with for an encore. 


Gram Parsons, 
the man credited with influencing the 
country sounds of everyone from 
The Byrds to The Stones, is the subject 
of an upcoming biography. . . . Mari- 
anne Faithfull’s new album will be pro- 
duced by Mike Thorne, who has worked 
with ‘Til Tuesday and Bronski Beat. . 

Stevie Wonder is organizing a network 
TV special to coincide with Martin 
Luther King’s birthday this month. Won- 
der says he’s planning to tour as 
well. . . . We've been waiting for this: 
Dick Clark's Best of Bandstand, a home 
video with vintage music clips from 
1956 to 1964. . . . Wham! clothes will hit 


the stores this holiday season. You can 
see them first on the MTV video 
jocks—or on Wham! ... The Sausa- 
lito recording studio where some of the 
best-known West Coast musicians 
made their hit albums has been seized 
by Federal drug agents under a law that 
allows authorities to take over property 
they believe was purchased with drug 
money, Drug agents claim that the 
owner of the studio invested at least 
$300,000 that they say he earned from 
making Quaaludes. . . . Roger Daltrey on 
the Who set at Live Aid: “Well, we had a 
great time. It wasn't easy for Geldof to. 
get us together; we didn’t really want 
us to do it. We all said we'd play 
individually; it was a very painful three 
years getting over the breakup of The 


Who. . . . But once we got on the stage, 
it felt great. . . . Bob's very per- 
suasive . . . and it was charity." 


News and notes from the Jimmy Buffett 
camp: His Miani Vice episode airs any 
week now; Michael Nesmith is produc- 
ing and directing his feature film, 
Margaritaville; he's working on a TV 
miniseries based on a book about Cus- 
ter called Son of the Morning Star; and 
he has gone into the mail-order- 
clothing biz, which he describes as 
"sort of a mom-and-pop with an Apple 
IL" It couldn't happen to a nicer guy 
Really. . . . Everyone knows that last 
fall, Sun Studios in Memphis lit up 
again for a new album by alums Johnny 
Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison and 
Carl Perkins. But did you know that 
there were a couple of other guys 
around making music on the finale, 
Big Train from Memphis? Like Rick 
Nelson, John Fogerty and Dave Ed- 
munds? ... And as if all this excite- 
ment weren't enough for one month, we 
hear that A&M is going to give Sly 
Stone another chance to take us 
higher—musically, that is. Happy 
holidays. — BARBARA NELLIS 


least the Saturday Night Fever sound track 
made sense as an instant dance party. 

Still, I like to get in on these things, so 
my Christmas list is composed not of a trio 
of albums but of a trio of folks who I think 
need to hear the Springsteen vision of con- 
temporary America. At the top is Senator 
Jeremiah Denton of Alabama, in honor of. 
Springsteen's commitment to the Vietnam. 
Veterans of America. It was former Viet- 
nam POW Denton's threatened filibuster 
that prevented V.V.A. from receiving its 
Congressional charter. Next is Tipper 
Gore, wife of Tennessee Senator Albert 
Gore, Jr. and a founder of the Parents” 
Music Resource Center, which leads the 
witch-hunt against "sexually explicit” 
rock lyrics. Tipper "n' Al are confessed 
rock fans, but, she recently told me, she's 
never heard Born im the U.S.A., even 
though P.M.R.C. has attacked one of its 
hits, I’m on Fire. Gore says she's a Boss 
fan, so Pm sure she'll be appreciative. 
Finally, I think I'll send one along to Wil- 
liam Wynn, who made $215,819 in 1984 as 
president of the United Food and Com- 
mercial Workers International Union. 
According to local union officials, Wynn’s 
operatives asked the workers at Hormel's 
Austin, Minnesota, packing plant to take 
up to a 35 percent wage-and-benefit cut, 
and I'm sure he'll add to repertoire the 
lyrics of My Hometown: “Foreman says 
those jobs are goin’, boys, and they ain't 
comin’ back/To your home town.” 


NELSON GEORGE 


Is there more to know about Joe and 
Katherine Jackson's favorite son? Well, 
yeah. Back in the early Seventies, Michael 
and his siblings cut The Jackson 5 Christmas 
Album (Motown), which is, pardon the 
sentimentality, heart-warmingly wonder- 
ful. I’m gonna play it for my five-year-old 
niece this Christmas, because | know 
she'll love Michael's squeaky inter- 
pretation of Little Drummer Boy and I Saw 
Mommy Kissing Santa Claus as much as I 
did as an adolescent. Scck it out in stores. 
that carry Motown's substantial catalog of 
reissued albums 

For more mature music lovers, 1 recom- 
mend the RCA/Columbia MusicVision 
documentary Rock and Roll: The Early Days, a 
survey history of the music’s early kings of 
jiving and jamming, including Little Rich- 
ard, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats 
Domino and Carl Perkins. With wit, a 
great fcel for the Fifties and tons of 
remarkable period footage, directors Pat- 
rick (The Compleat Beatles) Montgomery 
and Pamela Page show how a bunch of 
renegade bluesmen and soulful hillbillies 
sparked a rebellion in musical taste and 
social attitudes. The contrast between Lit- 
tle Richard doing Little Richard and Pat 
Boone doing Little Richard crystallizes the 
ongoing struggle between rockers and the 
right wing. 


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MOVIES 


By BRUCE WILLIAMSON 


MOVIEMAKERS, even at their peak, rarely 
match the grandeur of great theater іп 
probing the awesome dimensions of man- 
kind’s vanity, cruelty, treachery and lust 
for power. You go to Shakespcare for that, 
and the Bard's King Lear ıs the source of 
Ran (Orion Classics), ап overpowering 
work by Akira Kurosawa, the Japanese 
director who already owns a black belt for 
sheer brilliance dating back to the 1951 
Rashomon and beyond. In his recycled 
Lear, Kurosawa is more samurai than 
Shakespearean, He has set the action 
among the feuding nobles of 16th Century 
Japan, and his Lear (now Lord Hidetora, 
played with towering passion by Tatsuya 
Nakadai) bequeaths his kingdom not to 
three daughters but to three ambitious, 
quarrelsome sons whose sibling rivalry re- 
duces an empire to ashes. Like many Japa- 
nese films, Ran (“chaos”) gets off to a 
slow start, which is simply Kurosawa’s 
meticulous preparation for a long banquet 
of blood-and-thunder drama that fills the 
mind and soul with something far more 
substantial than the cinematic sushi nor- 
mally produced by fast-food merchants 
of moviedom from Hollywood to Hong 
Kong. 

While hundreds of horses and thou- 
sands of extras surge across the screen in 
period battle gear, sheer spectacle never 
diminishes the performances by Nakadai 
and Kurosawa’s superlative supporting 
cast. Topping the list are Daisuke Rvu, as 
Hidetora’s loyal youngest son, and Mi 
Harada, as Lady Kaede, a seductive in- 
law whose evil deeds would make Lady 
Macbeth's look lackadaisical. But nearly 
upstaging everyone is Peter (his entire pro- 
fessional name), a celebrated ‘Tokyo trans- 
vestite who plays Hidetora’s court fool 
with real poignancy—breaking through 
the stylized kabuki aspects of the film to 
help Kurosawa win the West in a sumptu- 
ous magnum opus. Banzai! At the age 
of 75, the mysterious East’s Westward- 
looking old master has done it again. ¥¥¥¥ 

. 
ector William Fricdk; To Live and 
Die in L.A. (MGM/UA) is a raw, mean and 
riveting thriller that earns admiration for 
its skill, thumbs down for unrelieved ugli- 
ness. The man who made The French 
Connection clearly knows how to handle 
the pursuit of a murderous counterfeiter 
(Willem Dafoe) by U.S. Secret Service 
agents, and Friedkin has stingingly 
authentic material in a screenplay he 
helped adapt from a novel by Gerald 
Petievich, himself a Secret Service agent. 
As hard as nails, the movic is hyped to 
suit the kind of roaring crowd that prob- 
ably likes to break store windows and 
trash sports arenas. L.A. is virtually cer- 
tain to make a lot of money, yet I predict it 


Nakadai as Ran's Japanese Lear. 


Kurosawa does it again 
with Ran; Aleandro a 
winner in Official Story. 


will be remembered—after the smoke 
clears—mainly for boosting the major- 
movie career of William Petersen, а 
dynamic young actor from the Chicago 
stage. As a lawman named Chance, so 
keen to avenge his former partner’s death 
that he doesn’t give a damn who gets 
maimed or otherwise damaged іп the 
process, he comes оп like а one-man 
SWAT unit (aided reluctantly by another 
talented Chicagoan, John Pankow, as his 
squeamish new side-kick). Petersen has 
the sex appeal ofa young Cliff Robertson, 
with some of Pacino’s virile charisma, and 
should go far if he doesn't get bogged 
down replaying this Chance character in a 
long-run TV series. Dean Stockwell, Darl- 
anne Fleugel and Debra Feuer (Mrs. 
Mickey Rourke off screen) bob to the top 
amid the human flotsam getting in Peter- 
sen’s way. None are people you'd dare 
turn your back on, but their nasty habits 
are seldom dull. There’s just no one left to 
root for by the time L.A.’s loathsome lot 
have settled all scores. УУ 
. 

Sharing the best-actress prize with Cher 
(for Mask) at the 1985 Cannes Film Festi- 
val was Norma Aleandro, Argentine star 
Of The Official Story (Almi). Also eligible for 
Oscar consideration, Aleandro’s perform- 
ance is devastating. She is no smoldering 
Latin in the Sonia Braga manner but 
brings heart-wrenching honesty to her role 
as a bourgeois Buenos Aires matron who 
begins to discover that her entire life is a 
Her devoted husband tums out to bea 


frightened, shifty political opportunist. 
Her cherished adopted daughter, she 
learns, may be a “stolen” child—one of 
countless youngsters abducted during the 
Seventies, when a right-win 
regime set out to terrorize any suspected 
lei A teacher, the conscientious hero- 
ine begins to feel her complacency jarred 
by outspoken students; then an old female 
friend returns from banishment with d 
quieting tales of having been beaten and 
tortured. Official Story is a contemporary 
political saga made woundingly real by 
One woman's anguished odyssey from 
darkness into light—directed with deep 
sensitivity by Luis Puenzo and played by 
Aleandro as if she has to know the awful 
truth. The lady is a revelation. Whether or 
not you believe that a tearjerker rooted in 
mother love will move you, prepare to be 
all shook up. ¥¥¥¥ 
. 

Don Johnson's deal to star in Miami Vice 
was reportedly clinched when the produc- 
ers saw his work in Cease Fire (Cineworld), 
which was being shot in Florida just before 
the hit TV series got under way. You will 
see why they wanted him. Genercusly 
judged, here is a well-meant but conven- 
tional B movie about the mental, marital 
and economic woes ofa Vietnam hero. As 
a test of talent, though, itis an A-plus for 
Johnson. His sizzling presence and 
unforced sincerity banish any doubt that 
there’s considerably more to Don than all 
the media hype touting him as a prime- 
time hunk (on that score, see our pictorial 
on page 94). Often overindulgent, Cease 
Fire milks pathos from the plight of a 
?Nam hero who, nearly 15 years later, can- 
not get a job or even a good night's sleep, 
whose fearsome hallucinations terrify his 
wife and children. “Comin’ back 
that’s the real hell,” he says. A dubious 
claim. As his distraught wife, Lisa Blount 
wrings in some strong support, and Robert 
F. Lyons is exceptionally effective, too, as 
another battle-scarred buddy who comes 
to group therapy too late. The film's 
jungle-warfare flashbacks and general con- 
clusions are fairly pat—catharsis cures 
all—but this modest showcase hardly 
aspires to be the de © drama about 
the aftershocks of a lost war. The winner is 
Johnson. ¥¥%4 


. 
A man undone by political intrigue and 
elitism in the Austro-Hungarian military 
establishment just before World War One 
may «сет a remote subject for modern 
audiences. Colonel Red! (Orion Classics), 
however, studies its tormented hero as if 
through a burning glass, trapping him like 
an insect specimen under the camera’s 
implacable stare. The intensity is achieved 
by Hungarian director Istvan Szabó, his 
pinnii cinematographer Lajos 
Koltai and actor Klaus Maria Brandauer, 
the triumvirate responsible for Mephisto, 


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winner ofa 1981 Oscar as best foreign film. 
Based оп a real-life scandal of betrayal and 
le in the officer corps, Colonel Redl 
gathers emotional momentum as Вгап- 
dauer coolly puts together—then tears to 
shreds—the portrait of the colonel, an 
ambitious upstart martinet. Redl sacrifices 
his family, his pride and the respect of his 
peers in devoted service to Emperor Franz 
Joseph. Despite a diffident affair with his 
best friend’s married sister (Gudrun 
Landgrebe), Redl is also a closct homosex- 
ual susceptible to temptations that ul- 
timately spell his destruction. The film's 
climax is an excruciating, unforgettable 
death scene that Brandauer performs as if 
it were Greck tragedy, chewing up the 
scenery in a manner that few actors today 
would even dare try. ¥¥¥ 
. 

More interesting than any other aspect 
of the subtitled French import Subway 
(Island Alive) is the reappearance of Grey- 
stoke's romantic Tarzan, Christopher Lam- 
bert, as a seedy underground character 
named Fred—the urban jungle his natural 
habitat. Sporting a mop of peroxide-punk 
hair, he's an indolent thief, apparent man- 
ager of a group of street musicians and 
would-be paramour of a bored, married 
Parisian beauty (Isabelle Adjani). Lam- 
bert’s rebellious young-Brando manner 
(or perhaps young Belmondo's) comes as a 
surprise but clarifies the reason millions of 
French fans see him as a blazing new star. 
Writer-director Luc Besson, at 26, is 
another bright talent who has tout Paris as 
well as people in Hollywood clocking his 
career moves. A major hit abroad, Subway 
is trendy, messy, at times incoherent, at 
times subversively funny and clearly 
turned out at top speed by a young man in 
a hurry. Keep an eye on him, too. ¥ 

. 

To derive maximum enjoyment from 
White Nights (Columbia), shrug off the 
overblown East-us.-West melodrama and 
pretend you've got two on the aisle for a 
choreographic summit conference between 
Mikhail Baryshnikoy and Gregory Hines. 
Trust me; there’s no other way. Barysh- 
nikoy plays a Russian refugee who has 
become an international ballet star—so 
far, his own story in a nutshell—but faces 
criminal charges when the jet flying him 
from London to Tokyo makes a forced 
landing at a secret Soviet air base. So 
whom do the Reds assign to bring their 
truant ballerino to his senses? Hines, as a 
black American deserter who walked away 
from the war in Vietnam. We discoyer him 
in a remote Siberian tank town, perform- 
ing Porgy and Bess for the peasantry, just 
getting his cue to sing (hint, hint) There's a 
Boat That's Leavin’ Soon for New York. 
That should give you a rough idea of the 
political nuances of Nights, every one a 
hammer blow likely to ring bells around 
the Pentagon. The good guys in this movie 
are either CIA agents (John Glover is the 


Baryshnikov, Hines hotfooting it 


Nights’ feet were made 
for dancing; Arkin steals 
Joshua's comic thunder. 


most helpful) or fine Russian women 
who'd prefer to be somewhere else. As the 
latter, Helen Mirren (playing the ballet 
star's long-lost love) and Isabella Rossel- 
lini (Hines’s Muscovite wife) are both 
splendid, with Isabella, daughter of Ingrid 
Bergman and Roberto Rossellini, excep- 
tionally fascinating to watch as a vibrant 
facsimile of her legendary mom 

Directed by Taylor (An Officer and a 
Gentleman) Hackford in Helsinki and 
other northern-lights locales from а 
screenplay by James Goldman and 
Hughes, Nights has some expert action 
sequences—among them a spectacular 
plane crash and a breath-taking getaway 
scene. But even these highlights are out- 
distanced by Mr. B. and Mr. H. Both are 
engagingly unaffected actors and arguably 
the snappiest cinematic dance duo since 
Rogers and Astaire called it quits. Once 
their feet start tapping out the scenario's 
Cold War dialog, merely talking seems 
redundant. ¥¥¥ 


. 

Dad manages a lumber company іп 
Dallas. He can scarcely get his own car 
started, drives like an old lady and has lit- 
Че or nothing in common with his hot- 
rodding 20-year-old son. Clearly, а 
compleat square. All ol that changes when 
Mom goes off alone on a European holiday 
and із inexplicably kidnaped. Next thing 
you know, father and son are jetting across 
the Adantic, and Dad begins to speak flu- 
ent French and German while whecling 
around Europe's cobblestoned byways like 
James Bond with Jaws on his tail. Is he a 
nerd? Is he a plane? No, he's Superspy. 
Sure, a retired CIA ace who has passed 
himselfoffas Mr. Milquetoast for a decade 


ог so, even to his own kid. Luckily, Dad is 
Gene Hackman, doing his near-perfect 
damnedest to make scnsc of Target 
(Warner), which must have sounded good 
on paper. The bad news is that director 
Arthur Penn, whose blue-chip credentials 
(Bonnie and Clyde, for instance) also raise 
one's expectations, seems unable to render 
the nonsense even semicredible. Matt 
Dillon carnesuy plays the perplexed son, 
while Gayle Hunnicutt, as Mom, has little 
to do between her hasty departure and 
last-reel rescue. Targets plot is stretched 
so thin, it becomes transparent, and any 
moviegoer who knows the ground rules of 
spy fiction will probably spot the mole in 
the melodrama right away. Penn’s pace is 
swift, his cast first-class, but there are pre- 
cious few surprises. YY 
. 

An unfairly neglected comedy that 
probably suffers from its rambling, поусі- 
istic style, Joshua Then and Now (Fox) is a 
sharp-edged, abrasive social satire by the 
team of collaborators who made The 
Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz. Again, 
Canadian author-adapter Mordecai 
Richler and director Ted Kotcheff arc 
tracking the rise of a not-so-nice Jewish 
boy in a society of WASPs. This time, he's 
a celebrated novelist and TV personality 
(James Woods) who cannot quite escape 
his humble origins. I'm not sure that 
Woods, always an able actor, wears 
Joshua's uptight shoes as snugly as Rich- 
ard Dreyfuss wore Duddy’s, but he meets 
the challenge admirably. As the socially 
prominent wile he acquires on his way up, 
Canadian actress Gabrielle Lazure is a 
breath-taking golden girl with the impact 
of a latter-day Grace Kelly. Throughout, 
Joshua's humble origins are richly embod- 
ied by his mother, a superannuated strip- 
tease artiste (Linda Sorensen), and his 
father, a gangster/religious philosopher 
(Alan Arkin). Stealing just about every 
scene he has a crack at, Arkin conducts a 
nonstop recital of nonkosher Bible stories 
featuring such zingers as “Then Jesus” 
bunch split up into rival gangs. ...” As 
chief commentator, Arkin alone would 
make Joshua a deliciously slanted field 
study of life among the gentiles. ¥¥¥ 

. 


‘Twiggy, fresh from her Broadway musi- 
cal hit My One and Only, trades Gershwin 
tunes for the English Gothic horror of The 
Doctor and the Devils (Fox) without missing 
a beat. She is obviously a blithe spirit 
recruited to provide Cockney relief for an 
otherwise ghoulish melodrama about 
grave robbers in 19th Century London. 
The bizarre screenplay is Ronald Har- 
wood's adaptation of an original written 
more than three decades ago by poct 
Dylan Thomas. It is lurid, kinky, colorful, 
with Jonathan Pryce and Stephen Rea as 
the low-life predators who supply fresh 
dead bodies to a prominent doctor (Timo- 
thy Dalton) doing highly unorthodox 
research. Handsomely mounted by Fred- 
die Francis, a cinematographer turned 


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director (credit him with shooting Dune 
and The Elephant Man), this macabre 
curio casts Twiggy as a harlot who nar- 
rowly escapes terminal trickery. Executive 
producer of The Doctor and the Devils is 
Mel Brooks, who may have intended the 
entire show as а sick joke with literary cre- 
dentials. Dylan, I suspect, intended every- 
one to rush into the nearest pub for a 
bracing after-theater tonic. YY 
. 

Everything you thought you already 
knew about the Holocaust through previ 
‘ous films and TV epics is placed in a bril- 
liant, blinding new light by Shoah (New 
Yorker), which is the Hebrew word for 
annihilation. Already hailed in Paris as a 
masterpiece, director Claude Lanzmann’s 
marathon documentary is nearly ten hours 
long and can hardly be endured in one sit- 
ting (two long shows will be the pattern as 
it opens around the country). Yet there are 
none of the familiar shots of bulldozers 
shoveling up corpses in Nazi death camps. 
Great chunks of Shoah resemble a leisurely 
travelog, with the camera roving by car, 
train or pony cart into peaceful present- 
day Polish towns and villages with such 
names as Chelmno, Treblinka and Ausch- 
witz. In effect, Lanzmann forces us to con- 
template the picturesque lanes winding 
toward grassy burial grounds and ruined 
crematories, guided to these sites of half- 
forgotten horror by the faces and voices of 
people he’s interviewing: some who sur- 
vived wartime atrocities, others who 
participated —willingly or not—and oth- 
ers who simply stood and watched. Lanz- 
mann does not pretend to be objective. 
He's a partisan who pushes too hard, often 
deccives his subjects and sets them up for 
self-incrimination. Even so, he gets results 
as shocking as they аге persuasive, 
whcther from a death-camp barber who 
breaks down while reminiscing during a 
customer's haircut in Israel or from cheer- 
ful Polish peasants living in the houses 
once occupied by their long-gone Jewish 
neighbors. 

Shoah is profoundly moving, eloquent, 
poetic, important and also frightening— 
brimful of evidence in here-and-now testi- 
mony that the lessons of history have 
not yet been committed to heart. Still, a 
Shoah half as long might have twice the 
impact. VW 


. 

The basic problem with Sweet Dreams 
(Tri-Star), director Karel Reisz's earnest, 
perfectly competent biography of country 
singer Patsy Cline, is that it seems a faint 
and faraway echo of Coal Miner's Daugh- 
ter. There, Sissy Spacek triumphed, using 
her own voice to capture the essence of 
Loretta Lynn. While Jessica Lange skill- 
fully lip synes the late Patsy Cline’s classic 
songs and acts the role with volatile 
country-gal gusto, Dreams ultimately 
leaves an audience wondering, Why? Now 
everyone will know the trouble she had, 
but I’m not sure the movie truly enhances 
Patsy’s heart-and-soul music. ¥¥ 


MOVIE SCORE CARD 


capsule close-ups of current films 
by bruce williamson 


After Hours Scorsese's eccentric—and 
overpraised—tale of Manhattan. ҰҰ 
‚Agnes of God But did her faith go the 
way of all flesh? Stay tuned. yyy 
Always Love after divorce, with instant 
replay by director Henry Jaglom. ¥¥ 
The Boys Next Door A couple of clean-cut 
kids on a murderous rampage. ҰМ 
Cease Fire (See review) B-movie fare but 
a bull’s-cye for boy Don. EA 
Colonel Кей (Sce review) Very good, 
and at its best it’s Brandauer. yyy 
Commando Schwarzenegger rescues 
hostage daughter, matching Rambo’s 
body count but having more fun. — YY 
Compromising Positions Case of the 
fatally sexy dentist. yyy 
Crossover Dreams Spanish Harlem show- 
biz saga set to a salsa beat. vv 
The Doctor and the Devils (Scc review) 
Grave robbers snapping at Twiggy. YY 
Eleni A Grecian search for a long-lost 
mother. WIA 
Flesh & Blood A thousand and one 
knights led by lusty Rutger Hauer. ¥¥¥ 
James Joyce's Women Molly Bloom and 
company, bawdy and by the book. YY 
Joshua Then and Now (Scc review) To be 
young, gifted and Jewish E 
The Journey of Natty Gann Girl seeking 
Dad during the great Depression. V2 
Kiss of the Spider Woman Bchind prison 
bars, William Hurt and Raul Julia 
share dreams of Sonia Braga. ¥¥¥ 
Marie The Spacek touch ends official 
corruption, sort of, in Tennessee. ¥¥¥% 
Mishima Stylish cinematic ode to 
Japan’s late, great author, WA 
The Official Story (Scc review) Smashing 
drama down Argentine way. | ¥¥¥¥ 
Plenty Stagy—though Streep, Gielgud 
and Sting may make you forget. УУУУ 
Ran (See review) Nipponese Lear. ¥¥¥¥ 
Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins . . . 
Light-and-lively comic strip—Fred 
Ward as Remo, Joel Grey stealing it as 
a martial-arts master. WA 
Shoah (Sec review) Again, the Holo- 


caust, in ten riveting hours. NYA 
Subway (See review) Tarzan 
français. WA 
Sweet Dreams (Scc review) Patsy Cline’s 
sad-but-true bio. vv 
Target (See review) Hackman and 


Dillon in hit-or-miss melodrama. ¥¥ 
To Live andDie in LA. (See review) Califor- 
nicopia, nasty butnice. 4 
Twice in a Lifetime Hackman, again, in 
rare form as a Seattle family man who 
gives up all for love at 50. vu 
White Nights (See review) The Cold 
War from tap to toe. wy 


YYYY Don't miss 
¥¥¥ Good show 


YY Worth a look 
Y Forget it 


We'd like to suggest an intimate cabin. 
With lavish appointments, unparalleled com- 
fort and a generosity of space. 

You'll find such sanctuary not miles from 
nowhere, but conveniently located in the new 
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The 5000S is an inspired synthesis of tech- 
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to go fora little peace and quiet. 


BEFORE you make your holiday list, check it 
twice with help from our annual selection 
of gift books. Traditionally, Harry N. 
Abrams publishes coffee-table books in the 
“don't miss” category, and this year is no 
exception. In the American West, by Richard 
Avedon, is a collection of his photographs, 
along with his essay on portrait photogra- 
phy; Festival of India in the United States 
1985-86, with a foreword by Pupul 
Jayakar, brings together text and illustra- 
tions about exhibitions from the 40 Ameri- 
can museums that organized the current 
festival tour. 

For the special people in your life who 
do most of their traveling from a comfort- 
able chair, there are a number of wonder- 
ful choices this year, including three from 
Sierra Club Books. Isak Dinesen's Africa, 
subtitled “Images of the Wild Continent 
from the Writer’s Life and Words,” takes 
advantage of today’s renewed interest in 
her work. The Arctic World, by principal 
writer and photographer Fred Bruemmer, 
captures the spirit of our northerly fron- 
tier, and Rivergods: Exploring the World's 
Great Wild Rivers, by Richard Bangs and 
Christian Kallen, celebrates 13 rivers on 
six continents in words and photographs. 
We also highly recommend Mountains of the 
Gods: The Himalaya and the Mountains of Cen- 
tral Asia (Facts on File), by Ian Cameron 
in association with The Royal Geographi- 
cal Society, which covers the history of 
that area from its geological birth to the 
conquest of Everest. Or, if climbing’s too 
strenuous, how about ballooning with 
publisher Malcolm Forbes in Around the 
World on Hot Air and Two Wheels (Simon & 
Schuster)? 

A couple of cookbooks that have caught 
our eye are the very practical Eosy Gourmet 
Cuisine (That Women Just Can't Resist) Cook- 
book (Loiry), by Ricky Frazier and Jack 
Olesker, and the sublime Glorious American 
Food (Random House), by Christopher 
Idone, with color photographs that look 
good enough to cat. 

Want to soften up a Scrooge in your 
life? Try a little irony. Choose Ralph 
Steadman's I, Leonardo (Summit), which 
does Da Vinci’s life from the Steadman 
viewpoint, or Ronald Searle’s In Perspective 
(Atlantic), the best of the humorist's work 
from 1938 to 1985. 

Robert Capa’s first published photo- 
graph was of Leon Trotsky; his last photos 
were taken in Indochina in 1954. Knopf’s 
Capa book, Photographs, spans that re- 
markable career. 

Finally, we'd like to highlight two art 
books of special note: Paul Davis’ Faces 
(Friendly), a collection of his famous post- 
er and magazine art, and Tales from the 
Thousand and One Nights (Stewart Tabori & 
Chang), Scheherazade’s death-delying 


Erotic dreams for Thousand and One Nights. 


Best bets for your gift 
list; will the real 
007 please stand up? 


stories, with erotic illustrations by Antonio 
Lopez. The holidays are always a feast of 
the senses; enjoy! 


. 

They were known by their nick- 
names—Barmy, Biffy, Blunder, Bubbles 
and Pink Tights—and they were the real- 
life predecessors of M and his counterparts 
in the lurid world of James Bond. Chris- 
topher Andrew brings them back to life in 
Her Majesty's Secret Service (Viking), a 
crowded and entertaining history of the 
British intelligence community and йз 
magnificent cast of crazies. Lord Baden- 
Powell, founder of the boy-scout move- 
ment, posed as an insect collector while 
spying on the Turks and incorporated the 
plans of forts and gun placements in the 
patterns of butterfly wings he drew in his 
notebooks. A young marine officer who 
was sent to spy on the French couldn't dis- 
tinguish between the pronunciations of 
mer and mére and whenever he sought 
directions to the sea was asked by puzzled 
Frenchmen why he wanted his mother. 
The same man later reported that a huge 
gun had been built with impressive speed 
by the French, only to discover that it was 
made of papier-maché. No wonder the 
German chancellor Bismarck, when asked 
if he had contemplated an attack by the 
British army, replied, “Yes, I have, and if 
they do, I shall certainly ring the bell and 
send for the police.” For their part, the 
Germans sent equally witless agents to 


England, among them a man who 
recorded everything in his notebook, 
including the positions of his bedroom fur- 
niture and the distance from one piece to 
another, and a hairdresser—hired to steal 
secret British documents—who couldn’t 
read or write in any language. Some idea 
of the brilliance with which U.S. Intelli- 
gence operations began may be deduced 
from President Wilson’s secret code 
words: Mars for the Secretary of War and 
Neptune for the Navy Secretary. Despite 
its subcurrent of Monty Python Meets the 
Kaiser, this is a thorough and scholarly 
work, though it contains very little new 
information about the postwar years. Too 
bad the present climate of official paranoia 
makes it unlikely that anyone now living 
will ever read an up-to-date account of the 
world’s second-oldest profession. 
P 

James Baldwin is a good novelist and 
playwright, but in our opinion he is, above 
all, a great essayist, probably one of Amer- 
ica's best in this century. In The Evidence 
of Things Not Seen (Holt, Rinchart & 
Winston), his subject is the prosecution of 
Wayne Williams, accused of the serial 
murders of black children in Atlanta be- 
tween 1979 and 1981, and Baldwin 
adroitly delineates the moral complexities 
in what remains, to many black Atlantans, 
a very emotional issue 

Some readers may remember that Bald- 
win’s December 1981 article with the same 
title on the Atlanta murders won PLAYBOY'S 
Best Nonfiction Award, but that article, 
written before Williams’ conviction, was 
merely a prelude to what has now, in an 
extraordinarily powerful 125 pages, 
become a symphony. If you’re interested 
іп Baldwin's behind-the-scenes percep- 
tions of the Adanta child murders, want to 
check out his current evaluation of Ameri- 
can black-white relations or just want to 
read a brilliant essay by a master of that 
dying craft, this is well worth adding to 
your library. 


BOOK BAG 


Last Wish (Linden Press), by Betty 
Rollin: When the author’s eccentric 
mother learns that her cancer is too far 
gone for treatment, she decides to end her 
life. In this true story, Rollin, a journalist, 
tells how she and her husband helped the 
ailing woman carry out her decision. It's. 
painful reading, but Rollin brings her 
mother and the mercy suicide into such 
sharp focus that the reader is hooked. 

Open Net (Norton), by George Plimpton: 
An awe-struck man on the street’s first- 
person account of a game as ап N.H.L. 
goalie. Fortunately for readers, Plimpton is 
one of the most erudite, perceptive and 
funny men on any street. 


B Buy a new Alfa Romeo GTV-6 between October 1, and December 31, 1985, 
U and we'll give you a free round-trip flight on Alitalia from Los Angeles to Milan, 
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Great reasons to consider an Alfa Romeo GTV-6 now. And after one 


test drive, you'll be overwhelmed with reasons to own this Italian beauty. 


Sensible reasons, like the way it embraces corners on serpentine country 
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/ "Take an Alfa Romeo GTV-6 to your home. And we'll take you to 
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<= 


As Joilette crossed the bed- 
room, she heard herself let 
out a long sigh. She was 


pulse racing at the mere 
thought of Rudolf. “I met a 
man,” she blurted, “the 


astonished. That was the | man! 


first time she’d thought 
about a man like that. At 
least the first time in years. 


She put the new book she'd 
bought that morning on the 
bed. Looking at the cover 
reminded her of the events 
that morning at the book- 
store. As she perused the 
shelves she had run into 
Rudolf. Somewhere 
between the classics. 
“Excuse me,” he had said. 
“Do you know that this is Hi- 
Neighbor Month!?” 


“Really!” Joilette said. “I 
thought it was just Read a 
New Book Month.” But all 
along Rudolf had been read- 
ing between the lines. 

“Listen,” he said, “I’m hav- 
ing a few friends over tomor- 
row, you know ... to 
celebrate the anniversary of 
the Monroe Doctrine. Uh, 

.. would you like to...” 


“Га love to,” Joilette 
squealed, regretting her 
impetuousness. But it must 
be the spirit of the season 
coming over her, she 
thought. 

Joseph Conrad’s birthday 
usually did that to her any- 
way. Yes, this was sure to be 
a festive December. She 
picked up the phone and 
called her best friend and 


confidante. 

“Estelle,” she said, “wait 'til I 
tell you what happened 
today.” Joilette could feel her 


“Oh, Joilette, I’m so happy 
for you!” Estelle said. “When 
do we get to meet him?” 
“Why don’t we all go out and 
celebrate Tanzania Indepen- 
dence Day?” Joilette said. 
“Gosh,” Estelle replied, 
“Fronk and I will be tied up 
that day, you know what with 
Clarence Birdseye' birthday 
and all." 
“I completely forgot,” 
Joilette replied. "But how 
about the New Moon? We 
could really howl." Estelle's 
other line suddenly clicked 
with an impatience that could 
only be Ernst. 
“Can you hold on, Joilette, " 
Estelle said, “I just know its 
my hunk ... and you know 
how impatient he can get!" 
“I know,” laughed Joilette, 
“Туе seen the pictures!” 
Hanging up, Joilette reached 
for her calendar. 
"Hmmm, Wright Brothers 
Day is coming up. I wonder if 
Rudolf and I could get away 
to the party at Kitty Hawk?” 
With that she rose to find 
some more batteries for her 
calculator. You can never be 
too prepared when the 
Annual Audubon Bird Count 
came around. 
Meanwhile, in another part 
of the city, the dashing figure 


ER 


of a man raced from a lim- 
ousine into the bowels ofthe 
crowded department store. 
The thin, rakish figure glided 


RE 


smoothly through the aisles, 
stopping briefly at the lin- 
gerie department. Then, on 
to the perfume counter. 
“Hello, Rudolf,” said the 
strikingly beautiful girl 
behind the counter, “are you 
after another one?” 

“Don’t be so catty, dear,” 
Rudolf said. “After all, you 
were one of my ... ones!” 
The girl stiffened. The com- 
mentobviously had gottento 
her. 

“It was the Beethoven's 
Birthday party you took me 
to,” she said, “It must have 
struck a chord.” 

“Lets face it, FiFi, you always 
rolled over for Beethoven.” 
“OK, what do you want from 
me now?” 

“I want a scent that's suitable 
for Underdog Day,” Rudolf 
said. 

“Туе got just the thing,” FiFi 
replied. 

She reached under the coun- 
ter for the toilet water 
labeled Rover. Rudolf stared 
at her taut body so suddenly 
revealed amid the severe 
lines of her tweed business 
suit and starched shirt. 
“What are you doing for the 
Metric Conversion Act 
Anniversary?” he said. 

“A friend and I were going to 
celebrate full measure. 
Why? Could you offer some- 
thing better!?” 

“Weight and see!” Rudolf 


SON 


replied as he pushed off from 
the counter and began to fall 
into place among the passing 
crowd. 


(ADVERTISEMENT) 


words,” he said. His even 
tan rippling over his sculp- 
tured features. Estelle felt 
as though she certainly 
would faint when she was 
startled back to reality as she 
saw Joilette kiss him. 

“By the way,” she said sud- 
denly, trying to break the 
mood the two lovers were 
creating inside her, “you 


had ever seen. 


“Tt will be our night to shine,” ЕС 
Joilette said as she checked БЕС 


her figure in the reflection of ИШ must come over and cele- 
the patio doors. дү DE brate the anniversary of 

Poor Richards Almanac with 
The doorbell rang. us. I know Joilette will be out 
“That must be him!” Estelle of town and I promise we'll 


have you in bed early! 

Fronk walked up and Estelle 
had to wrestle her emotions 
back. As Fronk reached out 
A his hand. 

“Pm Fronk and ... hey, you 
B look familiar. Rudolf... the 


said. “Fronk ... get your # 

jacket on and make yourself 

presentable, Joilette's man is 
ere! 


Fronk slowly climbed up 
from the silken pillows scat- 
tered over the deep-piled 


1 Bl Legion ... 1978... Rudolf 
а | Restante!" Rudolf suddenly 
"Another one," he muttered. | lost some of his cool, a ner- 
"Last week had to share my DEI vous twitch came over his 
Niger Republic Day cookies Iv с ір. f Т 
with some overdeveloped ES I was never in the Legion. 
muscle named Ernst. B | BA Апа my name's not 


Tonight, Pve got to spoil my Б ; 
Isaac Newton birthday 

reverie for some lothario [$ 
named Rudolf. I wonder if I 
Estelle recognizes the grav- Mi 
ity of this situation. There ІС 
ought to be a law!” n 
Estelle answered the door. [$ 
Yes, he was as beautiful as 
that air head Joilette had 8 
said. Everything апа... 2 ҮШ to Rudolf, “January is Na- 
more! ҮЙ IB tional Hobby Month and I 


TO CELEBR ! 


“You must be Rudolf,” she E thought...” 
said. “Joilette has told me oh “Oh, Joilette,” Estelle said 
so much about you.” ЕТПЕ СӘТЕН impatiently, “get off your 
“Yes, she has a way with оваз Arie heee Gr к. S1 Louis MO high horse!” 


Not Available in all Are 


Restante!” 

“Sorry,” Fronk said as he 
A sank back into his shell. 

I “Fronk never gets anything 
right," said Estelle. 

Il "Ever since he went on that 
| Leap Second Adjustment 
Day cruise, he's just not 
B been the same!” 

*By the way," Joilette said 


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SPORTS 


T: my knowledge, there has never 
been a poll in sports to determine the 
best sports poll of the year. Also, there has 
never been a year-end roundup that didn't 
ignore the best professional athlete on 
drugs or include a silly result, like who 
won something contested on ice. 

In an eflort to correct this situation and 
simultaneously to try to decide what kind 
of year it was in sports, I am herewith 
instituting the first annual Jenkins Poll, 
Some will say it is less a poll than a 
roundup. Others will say it is less a 
roundup than a flimsy excuse for an end- 
ofthe-ycar column. Both will be right. 
Score five points for the first conclusion, 
ten points for the second. 

Incidentally, many people already know 
what kind of year it was in sports. It was a 
great year in sports if (A) you had a sat- 
ellite dish or (В) you weren't among the 
4789 major-league bascball players named 
as dopcheads in the Dale Berra Songbook. 

But let's get on with the poll. The ques- 
tions don't require answers. If you supply 
morc than three, unwittingly or not, grade 
yourself as a casual follower of the athletic. 
scene and report immediately to the sports 
desk of The New York Times. 

1. Name an American who won a golf 
tournament. 

2. Name a Czech who didn't win a ten- 
nis tournament. 

3. Name a Toronto Blue Jay. 

4. How many races did Mary Decker 
win without make-up and eye 


5. On how many Thursdays did Mon- 
day Night Football appear? 

6. Which stupid organization called the. 
N.C.A.A. expects poor kids to go to col- 
lege and be football herocs with no spend- 
ing money or cars while they are 
surrounded by future Yuppics whose 
mommas and daddies have sent them off 
to school with Porsches and charge cards? 

7. Which baseball player got more hits 
than Ty Cobb on artificial turf? 

8. Which sin are sports fans least likely 
to forgive? 

A. Drugs 
B. Strikes 
С. Losing 

9, Which N.F.L. city had the most 
teams playing in New Jersey, which is nei- 
ther a city nor in the N.F.L.2 

10. Did the N.B.A. season end before it 
started again? 

This completes part one. In part two, 
answer yes or no if you feel like it, but if a 


By DAN JENKINS 


NO ANSWERS 
QUESTIONED 


husband answers, hang up 

11. Who was Dale Berra's co-star in 
Pittsburgh Vice? 

12. Which baseball player got more hits 
than Ty Cobb by going to bat 4,000,000 
more times on and off artificial turf? 

13. If the U.S.F.L. came back as the 
National Bowling League, why weren't we 
told? 

14. If Carl Lewis has been kidnaped, 
what is the FBI doing about it? 

15. What grade did Auburn's Bo Jack- 
son receive on his term paper dealing with 
pathos and humor in the Russian novel? 

16. Which event on CBS did Brent 
Musburger not introduce or interrupt? 

17. How many touchdown passes would 
Sam Baugh have thrown if holding had 
been as legal then as it is now? 

18. How long has it been known to col- 
lege football coaches and athletic directoi 
that recruiting rules are so idiotically hyp- 
ocritical, it's impossible to compete 
without breaking them? Since the days of: 

A. Knute Rockne 
B. Amos Alonzo Stage 
С. Walter Camp 

19. Who has sold more lingerie, Jim 
Palmer or Helen Gurley Brown? 

20. Which bascball player got more hits 
than Ty Cobb but stole 700 fewer bases? 

In part three, not all of the questions 
have two parts, but some have one. 

21. Name an offensive lineman in col- 


lege or pro football 

22. Which Tulane educator canceled his 
school’s basketball program and lived to 
tell it? 

23. Did Patrick Ewing take a cut in pay 
to sign with the New York Knicks? 

24. How many track-and-field athletes 
quoted Dostoievsky in Sports Illustrated in 
1985? 

25. Follow-up question: How many 
track-and-field athletes are actually quali- 
fied to manage a convenience store? 

26. Which baseball player got more hits 
than Ty Cobb but has a lifetime batting 
average that's 60 points lower? 

27. If boxing had known it was going to 
wind up at Caesars Palace, would it have 
stayed on barges in the rivers? 


s Doug Flutie too short to be a 

broadcaster? 
The final section of the poll deals with 

current events, except when it doesn't. 

30. In the past year, did European soc- 
cer kill more waiters than Latin American 
soccer killed cabdrivers? 

31. If baseball players are opposed to 
urine tests because they discriminate 
against “recreational drugs,” why aren’t 
the players opposed to recreation because 
it discriminates against people who haye 
to take a leak? 

32. Who was on deck when Pete Rose 
decided to charge seven dollars for an 
autograph? 

33. At how many dinner parties were 
Larry Holmes and Peter Marciano seated 
together? 

34. Name a school those stand-up guys 
at SMU didn’t rat on when they finally got 
caught buying players. 

35. Would you rather spend a weekend 
with Steve Howe, go into a bar with Billy 
Martin or take a spin around the block 
with Edwin Moses? 

36. Who would you most like to see 
make line calls on John McEnroe? 

А. Hagler 
B. Hearns 
С. Michael Corleone 

37. In the N.F.L. these days, would you 
rather own a quarterback or a zcbra? 

38. Was it an oversight or did Dale 
Встга intentionally withhold the names of 
those old drug abusers Babe Ruth, Lou 
Gehrig and Lefty Grove? 

As for the answers to the essay ques- 
tions, please keep them short and 
written on $100 bills. El 


33 


Citadel Pass. 
A rugged place for the Christmas spirit to start. 


PLAYBOY 


ALBERTA, CANADA 

When my dad first brought 
me up here for Christmas, I 
didn't know what to make of 
it. No crowds. No shopping. 

Just the snow, and the dogs, 
and a sense of peace so pro- 
found | could feel it months 
afterward. 

When 1 was older, my dad 
introduced me to Windsor 
Canadian. They make it 
nearby. 

I don't think they could 
make it anywhere else. They'd 
never match the glacier water, 
Alberta rye, or the mountain 
air—the things that make 
Windsor Canada's smoothest 
whisky. 

It's the smoothness that 
always brings back memories 
of this place. When he's older, 
I want my son to have memo- 
ries like that. 


Give Windsor this holiday. Call toll free lo arrange 
delivery of gilt box anywhere in the US: 
1-800-621-5150 (Illinois residents call 312-334-0077). 
Void where prohibited by law. 


WINDSOR 


CANADA'S SMOOTHEST WHISKY. 


34 CANADIAN WHISKY BLEND» 80 PROCE - IMPORTED AND BOTTLED BY THE WINDSOR DISTILLERY COMPANY, NEW YORK, N.Y. © 1985 NATIONAL DISTILLERS PRODUCTS CD. 


MEN 


he guerrillas had been active all 
I night, bombing power stations 
around San Salvador and cutting off elec- 
tricity to the city. The sound of demoli- 
tions and automatic-weapons fire kept me 
awake in my hotel room. 

I was a member of a delegation of 11 
Vietnam veterans brought together by Dr. 
Charles Clements, a Vietnam veteran 
himself. Author of a book called Witness to 
War, an account of his service as a physi- 
cian behind the lines in El Salvador, Dr. 
Clements had asked us to accompany him 
on a ten-day tour of El Salvador, Nicara- 
gua and Honduras. 

El Salvador was the first country we vis- 
ited, Because we were veterans and politi- 
cally undefined, we had access to many 
people—American-embassy personnel, 
Salvadoran military commanders, labor- 
union leaders, refugees, journalists, neu- 
tral observers. A trip into the hills to a 
town called Tenancingo would give us 
another piece of the mosaic. 

I packed my knapsack with care: a lami- 
nated picture of my wife and sons, a flask 
of water, some Halazone tablets, two bags 
of cashews, my camera and writing pad 
and pens, a Dire Straits tape, my Walk- 
man, a metal mirror, a compass and a 
map. It would be my first time in a war 
zone without a weapon. I didn’t mind. It 
made things simpler and more peaceful. 

The road to Tenancingo branched off 
the main highway some 15 miles east of 
San Salvador at a town called Santa Cruz 
Michapa. The road became rough as it 
wound north into the hills. Just outside 
Santa Cruz, we encountered a Salvadoran- 
army roadblock. The Salvadoran soldiers 
were young, angry, a little careless with 
their weapons. As they searched us, 1 
knew the other veterans in the delegation 
were on automatic, just as I was. We were 
checking the gullies, looking for places to 
hide, watching out for one another, read- 
ing the silent signals of the soldiers, exam- 
ining everything and saying nothing. 
When we were finally waved through, 1 
think we all took the same deep breath. We 
had 12 miles to go. 

We stopped the vans about 500 meters 
outside town. Charlie Liteky read from a 
newspaper report by Peter Arnett of what 
had happened at Tenancingo and ex- 
plained why a village that had held 2000 
people was now deserted: “Tenancingo 
was the third Salvadoran town bombed . 
by the newly acquired A-37 aircraft 
provided the Salvadoran government by 


By ASA BABER 


THE ROAD 
TO TENANCINGO 


the United States. . 

“Tenancingo had the misfortune to be 
occupied by left-wing guerrillas who 
overpowered the local army garrison. The 
government response was to send in its 
new bombers as the first reaction. 

“All the preparation I'd had 
other wars was no shield against the shock 
of coming upon Salvadoran victims 
sprawled in the streets where bombs had 
littered them. 

“The children seemed to have been 
killed by the blasts alone. Four that I saw 
were frozen in the act of fleeing, arms and 
legs clutching at the air, mouths wide open 
in fear. Their mothers were mutilated by 
the bombs. . .. We counted 17 dead in the 
streets...” 

Liteky is a former Army chaplain who 
was awarded the Congressional Medal of 
Honor for heroism under fire in Vietnam. 
He read Arnett’s dispatch in a slow, delib- 
erate voice. Then we walked carefully into 
Tenancingo. 

The church there stood on a deserted 
square. It was pock-marked by shrapnel 
and spattered with dog shit and graffiti. As 
if by signal, people began to filter into the 
square from all directions. A fully armed 
guerrilla arrived, followed by several men 
and boys, some with weapons. People 
materialized out of the tree line, out of the 
crumbling adobe houses: an old woman car- 
rying wood, guerrillas with propaganda 


posters, older men with machetes, a young 
boy with a bandanna across his face. 

Our embassy had told us that the rural 
population was afraid of the guer- 
rillas. If that is true, it is true some- 
where besides Tenancingo. The campesinos 
we saw listened easily and respectfully to 
the guerrillas who spoke to them. 

1 listened for a time to a young man who 
called himself Esteban. Pale, thin, 22 years 
of age, wearing a large straw hat and a -38 
pistol on his hip, articulate, humorous, 
Esteban talked earnestly to the crow 
“We are Salvadorans. We are not Sandi- 
nistas or Cubans or Soviets. We've always 
believed that the solution to our problems 
must be political.” It was guerrilla rheto- 
ric, just as predictable as embassy rheto- 
ric. I listened, but I was bored. Rhetoric 
never changes. 

Aaron Two Elks, Oglala Sioux and Viet- 
nam veteran, asked us to sit ina circle and 
smoke a peace pipe. Aaron taught us how 
to do it, explained the significance of each 
gesture. During the ceremony, 1 could 
hear an observation aircraft, the kind I 
used to fly in, circling somewhere above 
us. I wondered what kind of radio traffic 
surrounded our visit and whether the sol- 
diers at the roadblock would blow us away 
when we came back down the road, then 
pull back from their position and claim 
we'd been caught in guerrilla crossfire. 

We left Tenancingo in midafternoon. I 
lay on the back seat of the van and listened to 
Telegraph Road and watched the sun 
through the trees. We had hoped to smoke 
a peace pipe with the soldiers at the road- 
block, but they were too tense for that. 
They searched us thoroughly, talked 
among themselves, finally waved us 
through to the highway. 

“Politically, we might be at a stalemate 
with the guerrillas, ап Атепсап- 
embassy official said to me after a briefing, 
“but militarily we're way ahead.” 

I thought about that statement. It re- 
minded me of many Pd heard before. Ifa 
political stalemate existed, wasn’t it the 
only one that counted? If the battered pop- 
ulation of Tenancingo supported the guer- 
rillas, wasn’t that significant? If a town 
some 15 air miles from the heart of San 
Salvador was in disputed territory, wasn’t 
there a lesson in that? How many peace 
pipes would it take to lead to negotiations 
and peace? 

Maybe the ghosts of Tenancingo know 
the answers to those questions. I'm 
ern; deeds [3] 


35 


+ COME UP TO 


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Now Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Health. 
16 mg. “taf, 1.1 mg. nicotine av. per cigarette, FTC Report Feb. 85. 


WOMEN 


he realization hit me heavily, like а 

44 Magnum smashing into my 
skull. My heart started beating with a 
quick dread and my blood froze in my 
veins. My stomach did back flips; I had to 
race to the bathroom to avoid a major inci- 
dent. The ordeal I was about to face wi 
one of the most frightening, grisly, maca- 
bre and chilling experiences known to 
woman: 

Dating. I have to start dating again. 

Please, God, no, don’t make me do it! 
ГИ be good from now оп, I promise! PII 
stop feeding the dog hashish! ГЇЇ never 
again have ten pizzas with extra cheese 
delivered to my ex-boyfriend! ГІ be kind, 
thoughtful, sober, industrious, anything 
But please, not the torture of dating! 

Thats why I stayed with him so long, 
probably. 1 couldn't stand going through 
it all again. Sure, he may be a trifle mean- 
spirited and callow, I kept telling myself, 
but at least I know I'll get laid tonight, 
and tomorrow night. And at least someone 
will go to the movies with me and not try 
to hold my hand. 

Hand holding—the worst thing about 
dating. The fellow, or maybe even I, wi 
decide that holding hands is a sweet, sim- 
ple way to start. Hah! It's the most nerve- 
racking experience of life! Once I start 
holding hands, I’m afraid to stop. If I pull 
my hand away, will he think I'm being 
cold or moody? Should I squeeze his hand 
and kind of wiggle my fingers around sug- 
gestively, or is that too forward? What if 
we’re holding hands in the movies and I 
have to scratch my nose? If 1 let his hand 
go and scratch the offending nose and then 
don’t grab his hand again immediately, 
will he think I'm rejecting him? Will he be 
relieved? What if my hand is clammy? A 
clammy hand is more offensive than bad 
breath or right-wing politics! A clammy 
hand means you are a lousy lay! Every- 
body knows that! 

And what, dear, spiteful God, will I 
wear? I'll need new dresses, new jewelry, 
new sweaters, trousers, underwear. And 
shoes! Shoes tell everything: shoes have to 
be perfect! Men like high heels, right? I 
can't walk in high heels. Well, I can try. 
For a really important date, I can just see 
myself spending $250 for a pair of drop- 
dead suede heels, maybe with some fanci- 
ful stitching and a sweet pair of bows to tie 
around my ankles. This time, it will be 
different, ГЇЇ tell myself; this time, I will 
be able to walk. But after an hour, the ball 
of my foot will cramp up—1 know апа 


By CYNTHIA HEIMEL 


FEAR OF 
DATING 


I'll hobble. “Is anything wrong?" he'll say 
to me solicitously. “You're limping.” And 
I won't know where to look. I won't be 
able to say, “These fucking shoes are crip- 
pling me, and if I don't take them off this 
minute, ГЇЇ be maimed for life,” because 
then he'll know I just bought them, that I 
bought them to go out on a date with him. 
And that will make him feel weird and 
pressured, knowing that this date was a 
big deal for me, and he'll realize that 
maybe I'm not as popular and sophisti- 
cated as he thought I was if I had to buy a 
special pair of shocs that I can't even god- 
damn walk in, for chrissakes, just for a 
date with him. So I have to explain the 
limping in such a way that it won't have to 
do with the shoes. An old war wound? 
What if my hair refuses to behave? What 
if it's all recalcitrant and cranky and goes 
all limp and flat on onc side and then sort 
of bends at a right angle over onc car? I 
mean, sometimes 1 apply precisely the 
right amount of mousse and hang upside 
down when 1 blow dry it and yct some- 
thing still goes drastically wrong and Tend 
up looking like Margaret Thatcher. Some- 
times the suspense of what I will look like 
is so terrible that I have to take a Valium. 
1 have been known to apply four shades 
of lipstick, one on top of the other, in a 
pathetic attempt to achieve a certain 
Um-not-actually-wearing-lipstick-I-just- 
naturally-have-pink-moist-luscious-lips 


effect. I have been known to put green сус 
pencil below my lower lashes, look in the 
mirror, realize that I look like a gan- 
grenous raccoon, quickly remove it, look 
in the mirror, realize that I'd rather look 
like a gangrenous raccoon than an anemic 
buffalo and reapply the stuff. I have been 
known to start trying on outfits in an en- 
tirely tidy room and somehow, when I am 
finished, have every single item of clothing 
I own off the rack and on the floor, and 
then when the phone rings, there isno way 
on earth I can find it. I can't even find my 
bed. God, I hate dating. 

And when he rings my doorbell and my 
stockings are still around my ankles be- 
cause my garter belt is missing but with 
mad, deep, quick thought, I finally 
remember it’s in my black-satin purse 
(don't ask) and I get it on and get the 
stockings up and answer the door, smiling 
casually, what precisely do I say? 

What will 1 talk aboul on a date? 

Not one thing that's on my mind will be 
a suitable topic of conversation. “Do you 
think we'll sleep with each other tonight?” 
“Are you one of those guys who can't 
make a commitment or can make a com- 
mitment only to a woman with, really 
smooth, finely muscled thighs?" “Is my 
deodorant working?" “What kind of rela- 
tionship did you have with your mother?” 
“How do you think we're getting along so 
far?” “Do you like me?” “How much do 
you like me?” “Are you sure you really like 
me?” “Have you happened to contract any 
exotic social diseases?” “Ever been 
plagued by impotence?" “You're not going 
out with me because you feel sorry for me, 
are you?” 

No, we'll talk about movies. What we've 
seen recently. What if he telts me he finally 
got around to seeing Cocoon and it turned 
Out to be one of the greatest experiences of 
his life? Will I pretend to agree? I bet I 
will I bet something slimy inside will 
cause me to nod encouragingly and say, 
“Yes, wasn't it lovely? I especially liked 
thesexscencin the pool." Then I'll hate my- 
self, because I've turned our date into a 
tissucoflies. ГИ becomcdistracted thinking 
about what a hy pocrite I really am and my 
eyes will glaze over and ГЇЇ nod absently 
when he tries to draw mc out and then 
he'll get all paranoid, thinking I hate him 
because he liked Cocoon. He'll be right. 

But what if it turns out that his favorite 
movie is His Girl Friday, with The Thin. 
Man a close second? Then I could fall 
in love. Then ГЇЇ really be terrified. 


37 


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just slightly ahead of our time” 


AGAINST THE WIND 


O ne of the special punishments of 
working for a monthly magazine is 
that you have to suffer the holiday season 
not once but twice a year, and since the 
deadlines fall 90 days ahead of the cover 
dates, you have to start thinking about 
Christmas and New Year's at the end of 
September, when you ought to be enjoying 
the witless stupor that takes three months 
to earn in the hot, short rays of the s 
mer sun. 

I suppose it would be all right if you 
liked the ritual greed-and-guilt frenzy that 
ends one year and begins another, but 1 
don't and never have. In fact, 1 hate it 
deeply and think of it as one of the sure 
signs that most ofthe Western world is sick 
from the root up the trunk, out the branch 
to the fruit. Other than that, I'm neutral 
on the subject 

Christmas is the worst of it, of course. I 
remember the priests and nuns used to 
say, “Don't ever spell it Xmas, because 
that takes Christ out of Christmas." And I 
used to think, Well, then, let's do him the 
favor, because I have no doubt that if the 
baby Jesus had seen what his birthday was 
going to come to, he would have stood bolt 
upright in the manger, rolled his little eyes 
toward heaven and asked to skip right to 
Good Friday. 

The shame of it is that the whole thing 
used to be a good pagan celebration, con- 
nected to the earth and the weather, before 
the Christians got hold of it. It fell on the 
winter solstice, the longest night of the 
year, and 1 like to imagine our rough-and- 
hairy ancestors sitting around big fires, 
drinking whatever they'd fermented out of 
the harvest, laughing and drooling and 
assuring one another that the sun was 
making its big turn, that there would be 
another spring if they could just hold out 
for a few more months. 

As it is now, the spirit of the thing jumps 
straight out of the ugliest part of our souls; 
then we pass it on to our children in a 
nasty little story about a laughing old fat 
man that is designed to whip them on to 
levels of desire that are purely cruel. And if 
you don't believe that, find a few little kids 
and look into their eyes this Xmas morn- 
ing and watch whatever is innocent about 
them go up in shreds with the wrapping 
paper when the last of their gifts is out of 
its box. If you're with children who spend 
a lot of time in front of television, you're 
likely to see a sort of Academy Award 
despair played out for the lack of a Cab- 
bage Patch doll or over a 49er jersey with 


um- 


By CRAIG VETTER 


SPIRIT OF 
THE SEASON 


the wrong number on it. All of which 
would be fine if we could just accept the 
whole thing for what it is and enjoy it as 
the one day each year when we are en- 
couraged to take and take until we are ill 
with the exercise—then get on with our 
lives. But even that kind of honesty es- 
capes us in December, and I blame that, 
at least partly, on Charles Dickens. 

No matter where you hide, at least once 
every holiday season, someone somewhere 
will read from or perform the sentimental 
piece of crap called A Christmas Carol, in 
which the great storyteller haunts and 
grinds a pathetic old businessman to mad- 
ness while he limps an overly sweet little 
boy toward sainthood, all by way of 
reminding us that it is better to give than 
to receive. 

The logic of that tritism is clear and per- 
verse, though по one ever talks much 
about it: Ifyou ultimately get more by giv- 
ing than you get by getting, and if the idea 
of Xmas is to get as much as you can, then 
the most truly selfish thing you can do is to 
give as much as you can beg, borrow or 
steal, which is, thanks to credit cards, a lot 
easier now than it was in 19th Century 
England 

I was poor enough to be without money 
or credit cards for several years, and over 
that time it was easy to hold the courage of 
my instinctive holiday cynicism, Last year, 
though. I had a few bucks in my pocket, 


and I almost fell for the relentless dinging 
of the street-corner bells and the stink of 
the roasting chestnuts. I didn’t actually go 
so far as to ask the Lord to bless Tiny Tim, 
but it was a close call, and I'm grateful to 
the old curmudgeon who finally saved me. 
I was in Chicago. The city had its lights up 
and its Santas out, and it was cold enough 
that if there were such things as nosc-hair 
warnings, we would have had one. 1 was 
shopping my way down Clark Street, all 
pulled up about how happy my thoughtful 
gifts were going to make my friends, when 
I passed this old gutter troll who lives in 
the neighborhood. Га seen him many 
times over the years, and I think of him as 
the pooh-bah of the bag men in this part of 
the city. There’s a deep, grubby magnifi- 
cence about this guy that you sense even 
before you come into the wide radius of his 
smell, which is pretty much strong enough 
to generate its own weather system. He's 
in his middle 60s, I guess, though his kind 
of filth casts an agelessness over those who 
wear it. He has long, matted hair and a full 
beard in which he carries a load of debris 
that you might sec on the radiator of a car 
that’s gone 10,000 miles. He dresses him- 
self'in several overcoats whether he's sum- 
mering in Lincoln Park or wintering in the 
doorways along Clark, as he was this 
late-December day. 

He had ducked out of the awful wind, 
surrounded by the 20 or 30 suitcases, plas- 
tic bags and other bundles that make up 
his portable nest, and he was shifting from 
foot to foot for warmth. The first time I 
passed, І kept walking; then, about a block 
away, I gave in to a sticky rush of Xmas 
sentiment. On my way back, I dug a ten 
out of my pocket (O generous boy!), and 
when we were face to face, I smiled and 
held it out to him. He looked at me like he 
might spit, then barked like a big, mean 
di When that didn't do the trick, he 
said, “Get outta here. I don't want that. 

“Sorry,” I said. “I misunderstood.” He 
didn't say anything to that, just stood 
there with a look on his face that made me 
feel like the beggar. 

A week or so later, I saw him moving his 
baggage toward whatever huddle he was 
going to use for N and I thought 
of maybe stopping to tell him that with his 
rusted old shopping cart, two dozen bags 
of garbage and misanthropic old eyes, 
£ age of Father Xmas I 
could finally believe in. I didn't, 


though. El 


cw Year’: 


38 


To send a gift of Courvoisier call: 1-800-238-4373. Void where prohibited by law. 


..and to all, the great cognae. ? 


‘COURVOISIER 
LE grade 66» 


«te 


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legal in 


THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


Шала 50-year-old professor at а large 
Northeastern university. I have a problem 
that everyone my age should have. А situa- 
tion has developed that has increased my 
consciousness, my zest for life—and has 
turned what had been a latent sex life into 
one that borders on miraculous. About 
three years ago, a very lovely young lady 
registered for a course I teach. She earned 
a В апа I didn't sec her again for about a 
year, when she again showed up in my 
office to talk. Now, mind you, she is not 
your everyday, run-of-the-mill student; 
she is very intelligent, extraordinarily 
attractive (a runner-up in а state beauty 
contest a few years ago, for what that’s 
worth) and, by her own admission, turns 
down several offers every week for dates 
from men her own age. I was aware that 
she was infatuated with me and that talk- 
ing with me was an excuse for her to be in 
my presence. One thing led to another, 
and before long, we had occasion to travel 
out of town together. This precipitated a 
torrid affair that has lasted for two years. 

The biggest problem for us has been 
finding a consistently available place to 
make love. Since she lived in a sorori 
house and professors tend to be intimi- 
dated by 50 to 60 young women, her place 
was out cf the question. My wife is 
equally intimidated by attractive young 
women, so naturally we couldn’t go to my 
place. In a small college town, motels are 
risky as well as expensive. One day, out of 
sheer frustration, we decided to throw cau- 
tion to the wind and engaged in what 
turned out to be an incredible lovemaking 
session on the desk in my office. The first 
time was out of this world. Making love 
on my desk has developed into a several- 
times-a-week, sometimes several-times-a- 
day activity that leaves us both in a state of 
absolute euphoria. 

Some months ago, she was graduated 
from this august university. She has 
turned down excellent job offers (all in 
other states), because she refuses to leave 
town and me. She says it is me she doesn’t 
want to leave, but I have a feeling it’s the 
desk. My question is, How do I get her to 
realize that there are better things for a 23- 
year-old woman to do and that there will 
be sex after the desk? She needs to get on 
with her life and, more important, get 
Started in her career. Because of the sensi- 
tive nature of this letter, I cannot give you 
my name and address. At many universi- 
ties, sex with students, though not 
necessarily uncommon, results in profes- 
sors’ being fired. 1 hope you can sce yo 
way clear to put your response in 
PLAYEOY.—ÀA. T.. Boston, Massachusetts. 

The problem with throwing caution to the 
wind is this: Unless you have a very good 
arm, the thing keeps getting blown back in 
your face. Now you are going lo be cursed by 


the memory of incredible sex for the rest of 
your life. Tough, hey? We can’t figure out 
whether you should sell the desk or have it 
bronzed. As for your friend, tell her that the 
flame has died, the chemistry is gone, sanity 
has returned, more or less. Tell her it is сиет 
The common advice is to make the break in a 
public place, so there will be no emotional 
outbursts. Unfortunately, in a nation raised 
on soap operas, that advice no longer holds 
true—not only do you get emotional out- 
bursts, you get witnesses. Be firm. Be gentle. 
Leave her some dignity. Do not give in to the 
impulse for one great final fling. Thank her 
for making Ihe middle years of your life some- 
thing to remember. Good luck. 


Every time I walk into a ski store, I am 
confused by the array of skis. What exactly 
is the difference between a racing ski and a 
sport ski?—J. P., Chicago, Illinois. 

Racing skis are for people who measure 
performance in “hundredths of a second.” 
Sport skis are for people who measure pleas- 
ure in “weeks at a time.” The distinction is 
simple: If you want to race gates, buy a high- 
performance racing ski. If you want to have 
fun, buy an all-terrain sport ski. It's the dif- 
ference between a Ferrari and a BMW. Ski 
‘manufacturers now offer soft flexing skis with 
high-tech materials that deliver performance 
but also such qualities as forgiveness, com- 
fort, silkiness. They allow fast skiing in all 
types of snow and do not require you to have 
the technique of a Phil Mahre. Last spring, 
we had the opportunity to ski on three brands: 
the K2 5500, the Head Radial Elektra and 
the Kneissl Red Star Superflex. The K2 
5500 is a foam-core, modified slalom-cut ski 
that is pure delight on soft snow. The Head 
Radial Elektra is an exceptional ski with an 
avant-garde side-wall design that offers the 


quick turn of a short ski without sacrificing 
the stability of a long ski. The Kneissls were 
well-behaved cruisers. We ended up buying 
all three, and now we ski with a caddie. Our 
advice: Rent demo skis at your favorite ski 
shop. When you find a model you like, buy 
them. 


В think 1 have a real problem, or at least 
my girlfriend thinks I do. Гуе been with 
her for almost a year now, and we have a 
very sensuous sex life. There's probably 
nothing we haven't tried. We are very 
much 


1 love and enjoy our sexual encoun- 
ters with each other. We both are very 
active in oral sex, which brings me to my 
problem. When Lam giving my lady head, 
my cock is often limp; she says it should be 
very hard. She often wonders about this, 
suggesting that I may be gay or unsatisfied 
with what I'm doing. 1 don't think that's 
the case, because when I give her head, 
which is almost every time we make love, I 
find myself so wrapped up in pleasing her 
that I'm licking and sucking her every- 
where. I love her entire body and I show 
her, and the only thing in my mind is 
pleasing her love box from front to back. 
The result is the most fulfilling and outra- 
geous orgasm one can experience. In so 
many words, she has told me that, saying 
that no one else makes her feel like I do. 
My cock gets fully hard only when Pm 
about to put it in her. Except for my cock's 
being limp while I give her head, our sex 
life is very satisfying. 1 would appreciate 
any insight that you can give me.—M. B., 
Washington, D.C. 

Evidently, your girlfriend doesn’t realize 
that a little stimulation goes a long way and 
that erections are not instantaneous in every 
sexual context. If your girlfriend wants your 
cock lo get hard while you're pleasuring her, 
she should encourage it by providing what. 
ever manual/oral stimulation you find most 
pleasurable. It is perfectly normal for you to 
remain flaccid while you're concentrating on 
your partner, but, happily, this state can eas- 
ily be altered. 


Th never fails. 1 invite friends over for 
some holiday cheer and forget to put the 
champagne in the refrigerator in time. 
What do I do when the guests are at the 
door and the champagne’s still at room 
temperature?—R, J., Evanston, Illinois. 
Suicide is not out of the question. First, 
here's what not to do: Don't put it in the 
‘freezer. Chances are, you'll forget about it, 
and it can freeze—and explode—in less than 
15 minutes. According to supersommelier 
Kevin Zraly, you should refrigerate it in the 
warmest part of the main compartment—the 
vegetable bin, for example—for several 
hours. But if you forget, stick the boltle in а 
bucket of ice and water (water conducts cold 
more efficiently than air) and let it sit for 20 


43 


PLAYBOY 


44 


minutes. Add salt to the water and ice and 
your bubbly will cool even more quickly. Next 
time, plan ahead. It doesn't hurt to keep a bot- 
Ше in the fridge for days or weeks, as long as 
you don't vary the temperature by removing 
and recooling it indiscriminately. Enjoy. 


АЛ, vife and 1 have a fantastic love life, 
We are in our early 40s, have been married 
more than 20 years and enjoy sex on an 
average of once a day. What is the prob- 
lem? My semen smells and tastes like 
bleach. (1 know from secondhand knowl- 
edge that it has a bitter taste.) Although 
my wife loves to give head, I can under- 
stand her reluctance to take a mouthful of 
bleach. Can you suggest a way, through 
either diet or some other method, that I 
can improve the taste of my semen?— 
R. W. B., Rapid City, South Dakota. 

It is difficult, if not impossible, to alter the 
taste of the semen. However, vour wife can try 
a few techniques to minimize her distaste, 
including gargling with a pleasant-tasting 
mouthwash before indulging in fellatio and 
positioning the penis farther back in the 
mouth to bypass the taste buds. But we still 
have one question about this letter that really 
bothers us: How do you know what bleach 
tastes like? Are people out there chugging 
Clorox? 


F recently received a most unexpected gift 
from a ladyfriend—a pocketknife. Not a 
fancy dress knife but a plain, workmanlike 
tool. When I seemed bewildered, she ex- 
plained that the gift of a knife is an ancient 
tradition denoting friendship. I had never 
heard of this custom. She went on to 
explain that the recipient is supposed to 
give the giver a penny so that the friend- 
ship will not be cut by the knife. Is this 
true, or was she putting me on?—E. Т., 
Los Angeles, California. 

Not only is it true, it sounds like you've 
found the perfect woman. Unless you believe 
in surgery self-taught, give her the penny. 


W have been courting a serious young lady 
for the past three months, always treating 
her with the utmost respect. It was only 
recently that we got into some heavy pet- 
ting, during which, without the least sug- 
gestion on my part, she suddenly went for 
my crotch, zipped it open and proceeded 
to give mea highly skilled blow job, which 
I must admit I thoroughly enjoyed. But 
afterward, I began to wonder where she 
had learned her almost professional tech- 
nique and why she was so avid to “play the 
meat whistle and swallow the music,” It 
may seem rather ungracious of me, but 
this is a young lady in whom I had become 
terested —had even thought of 
marrying—and I must say that her recent 
actions have given me good reason to 
doubt her morality and ability to be a 
ithful wife. While I would like to have 
similar experiences again—and again—1 
doubt that I consider her a prime candi- 


sincerel 


date for legal union. Am I being too harsh 
on her? Am 1 being somewhat unfair in 
prejudging her for what might be an hon- 
est urge she just couldn’t control? We did 
discuss it for a while after the heat died 
down. She claimed she just loved me so 
much, she had to do “something special” 
for me to show her real feeling, but Pm 
not sure that I can really believe her. Be 
a friend and advise me, dear Advisor!— 
G. T., Roanoke, Virgi 

We always say that sex is like ethnic food: 
Enjoy the flavor, but don't ask what went into 
it. Maybe your girlfriend is a natural. Take 
her word for it. Passion (and a little reckless 
abandon) are prime ingredients for a sexual 
union—and a legal union. You can probably 
learn a lot from her. 


S .ddeniy, I'm hearing lots of hoopla 
about multiple-valve engines. Why more 
valves? Don't they just make things more 
complicated and harder to tune?—K. 5., 
Memphis, Tennessee. 

Think of an engine as a giant air pump, 
which, essentially, it is. Air flows in through 
an air filter and an intake manifold, a meas- 
ured amount of fuel is sprayed into it by 
a carburetor or by fuel injection, and the re- 
sulting mixture is burned in the cylinders. 
Energy released as the fuel burns in each cyl- 
inder pushes down a piston, which turns the 
crankshaft and, eventually, the wheels. When. 
the piston comes back up, it pumps the waste 
gases left over after combustion out into the 
exhaust system. Controlling that flow of air 
and fuel in and exhaust out are valves 
shaped like flattened long-stemmed tulips. In 
the typical gasoline engine, each cylinder has 
an intake value on one side and an exhaust 
valve on the other, both pushed open at the 
appropriate times by egg-shaped lobes on a 
rotating camshaft above. Got it? OK. 

Now, it happens that four small valves can 
let more stuff flow in and out than two larger 
ones can, and more air and fuel in and 
exhaust out per piston stroke equals more 
power (о the crankshaft. Also, smaller valves 
can operate faster than larger, heavier ones, 
so the engine can work at higher rpms. 
Another advantage is that putting two small 
valves on each side of the cylinder (each pair 
operated by a separate camshaft) leaves room 
for the sparkplug square in the middle of a 
very efficient pent-roof (tent-shaped) combus- 
tion chamber. Anyway, just remember that four 
valves per cylinder, as opposed to the normal 
two, make an engine more efficient, more 
powerful, more fun, even more economical. 

As you surmised, the bad news is that dou- 
bling the valves and cams and associated 
gear adds cost and complication. Today's 
modern four-valve, twin-cam passenger-car 
engines, however, are designed for maximum 
reliability and serviceability with minimum 
hassle. Toyota, Saab, Porsche and Ferrari 
currently offer four-valve engines, and more 
will be coming for 1986. As driving enthusi- 
asts, we like the four-valve concept a lot, and 


it's cheaper than turbocharging for approx- 
imately the same benefits. Whether or not 
those benefits are worth the extra cost is a de- 
cision each car buyer must make for himself. 


Ham a bearded connoisseur of cunni 
gus, and that fact puts me in a very per- 
plexing situation. Short of cutting my 
beard off, how can I keep the after scent 
left in it by my insatiable adventures from 
being a giveaway to my wife? Simple 
scrubbing with soap and water afterward 
does not seem to be enough. Can you 
advise me of a suitable cover-up so that 
І can continue my wandering adven- 
tures?—L. S., Toledo, Ohio. 

A friend of ours says that there are two 
things a man with a beard should never eat. 
One of them is lobster dipped in butter. Per- 
haps you should condition your beard with 
garlic butter or onion dip, Soap and water 
should work; but then, there's nothing like 
guilt (or jealousy) to hone the senses. Our 
advice: Perform oral sex on your wife as fre- 
quently as possible. Maybe she won't notice. 


Ik it fair to ask a woman to raise and lower 
her hips rhythmically while in the mis- 
sionary position? Is it likely that such exer- 
ion on her part would enhance her own 
pleasure and passion? 1 hate to ask her to 
work that hard if I'm the only one who's 
going to like it. On the other hand, I love 
having my movement complemented by 
my partner's, and 1 feel as if some 
important (to me) is missing. Am 1 failing 
to send her spontaneously up the wall? I 
have had three passive lovers. They all 
said everything was fine. 1 assumed that 
their passivity was my fault and they were 
being kind.— T. T., Dallas, Texas. 

You may as well take a blowup doll to bed if 
your lovers are going to be completely passive 
during sex. You're correct in assuming that 
something is missing—not only are your 
partners cheating themselves of sexual fulfill- 
ment but your pleasure must be dampened by 
their lack of enthusiasm and participation. 
Anything that promotes friction during inter- 
course is generally appreciated by both part- 
ners: Think about what happens when you 
rub two sticks together. You ask us if you're 
failing to “spontaneously” turn on your part- 
ners; sorry, but women require more attention 
and priming to become aroused than men do. 
Simply applying a hard penis to the nearest 
warm surface will not suffice. Buy a sex man- 
ual and do some homework, 


All wasonable questions—from fashion, 
Sood and drink, stereo and sports cars to dating 
problems, taste and etiquette—will be person- 
ally answered if the writer includes a stamped, 
self-addressed envelope. Send all letters to The 
Playboy Advisor, Playboy Building, 919 N. 
Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. 
The most provocative, pertinent queries 
uill be presented on these pages each month. 


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DEAR PLAYMATES 


Fhe question for the month: 


When is an older man too old for 
you? 


There is no such thing as wo old or too 
young for me. Гүс met men in their 20s 
who act 50 and men in their 50s who act 
20, and I can 
relate to both. 
The man in my 
life is 23 years 
older than me. 
We've been to- 
gether for ten 
years. When 1 
look at him, the 
first 
see are his ре 
sonality, hi 
warmth, sincer- 
ity and hon- 
esty—long before I see his age. His age 
has nothing to do with our relationship. It 
sets no limits. We make it work because оГ 
who we are, not what we are. 


DEBI NICOLLE JOHNSON 
OCTOBER 1984 


Woo old? Over 40 is too old for mc. Men 
start to think differently after 40. A lot of 
them are divorced and having mid-life cri- 
ses and are looking for younger women. 
That is not for 
me: 1 don’t like 
to see older 
men try too 
hard to act 
young. I also 
don't want a 
man to act too 
old, either! I 
went out with a 
guy in his mid- 
Фе 30s who 
acted like he 
was 50. What 
was that like? Well, I wanted to go out and 
party and he wanted to go to the country 
club. I wanted to go out dancing and he 
wanted to go home at nine o'clock. We 
меге just off. It didn’t work out. 


Vz 
VENICE KONG 
SEPTEMBER 1985 


W don't think there is an age too old for 
me. In fact, I like older men very much. 
Um in my early 20s, and men my own 
age often seem childish; we don’t share 
the same values. Very young men seem 
too much into 
themselyes and 
are not very at- 
tentive. I need 
a lot of atten- 
tion and care. 
Young men are 
struggling to 
make it, and 
they're still 
unsure about 
what they want 
from life. By 
the time a man 
is 40, he has some stability, a sense of di- 
rection, and he has the time and the in- 
terest to really consider me. I haven't been 
out with anyone older than 46, but it 


would not be out of the question. Age itself 


doesn't matter. How old a man acts does 
matter, as far as l'm concerned. 


Hokota aiat 


ROBERTA VASQUEZ 
NOVEMBER 1984 


А 25-year age difference would be too 
much, because that man would be a peer 
of my parents’. There would be a big dif 
ference between what I have experienced 
and what he has experienced. A much 
older man tends to overlook the things a 
young woman - 
needs to do in ‚4 
her life, be- 
cause he's al- 
ready done 
them and they 
aren't impor- 
tant to him 
anymore. 1 
once lived with 
a man who was 
26 years older 
than me. As 
time went оп, 
he began to say, “Listen, Гус alrcady done 
it. Believe me, it’s not worth it.” This is 
not the kind of advice that works for a 
younger person. You need to find out these 
things for yourself. You really can’t have 


the same interests. 


TRACY VACCARO, 


OCTOBER 1983 


5500 
guy can’t keep up with me—I mean sexu- 
ally and athletically—he's too old for me. 
ІГІ want to have a rendezvous some after- 
noon and pull him away from the office for 
a swim, or take 
a nighttime 
skinny-dip, or 
do anything off 
the wall, and 
he can't hang 
in, he's too old. 

A good state of 
mind knows no 
age. Well, let 
me amend that 
a little. Over 45 
would be push- 
ing it for me. 
Sull, che shape a man is in mentally and 
physically is most important. He could be 
32, you know, and act like an old, fat guy! 


; | LIZ STEWART 
JULY 1984 


Hes not age for me, it's attitude. I've been 
out with men in their 30s who act 18. That 
makes them too young for me! Ifa 60-year- 
old man were 
able to go out 
and һауе a 
good time and 
show me a 
good time, that 
would be great. 
It would also 
be important to 
me that an old- 
er man was 
good physical 
condition. 1 
would not want 
to rule sex out in any relationship I might 
һауе, Whoever he was, he'd have to have 
joie de vivre. He'd have to be up for a good 
time. A good attitude is energy, and that’s 
what it takes to keep a relationship going 


strong. 
A ar) 


LESA ANN PEDRIANA 
APRIL 1984 


Send your questions to Dear Ploymates, 
Playboy Building, 919 North Michigan Ave- 
nue, Chicago, Illinois 60611. We won't be 
able lo answer every question, but we'll try. 


47 


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©1986 R.J. REYNOLDS TDBACCDCD. 


<) SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Quitting Smoking 
‚ -4 Now Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Health. 


THE PLAYBOY FORUM 


a continuing dialog on contemporary issues between playboy and its readers 


1984 AND COUNTING 

Ir all started a few years ago, but I’m 
not sure exactly when. It was one of those 
things that start so subtly, so insidiously, 
that no one is aware of them until they've 
already happened. Black cars appeared on 
the streets of Norman, Oklahoma, bearing 
the words NORMAN NOISE PATROL. The noise 
police were here. Black cars were driving 
around the streets of this college town with 
the express purpose of making sure we 
were quiet. 

After a few people were arrested for 
being noisy, the brown cars came ош. The 
grass police. They drive around to make 
sure that you keep your lawn mowed. 
They're not just in charge of grass. They 
make sure that you don’t park your car on 
your lawn and once told a friend of mine 
that it was illegal to keep a car that didn’t 
run. They told him on Friday that it was 
an abandoned car and he had until Mon- 
day to get rid of it, have it fixed or face 
charges. I began to be frightened. These 
guys were hard-noses. An unemployed 
man had the glass smashed out of his car 
by some drunk, and he was given only one 
weekend to buy $100 worth of glass or face 
the consequences. 

Then it happened. A knock on my door. 
It seems that I had some friends whom I 
had not called or written to in quite some 
time. You guessed it. The relationship 
police. 


Lance Dannan Bresce 
Norman, Oklahoma 
You're joking, right? Right? 


CONVERTED 

I know that this is going to shock some 
of the good ol” boys I shoot pool with, but 
1 am about to join Alan Alda and Phil 
Donahue and become a card-carrying 
ferninist. The incident that caused this 
revision of my philosophy occurred at the 
Travis County Courthouse in our state’s 
capital. I was there to testify as a witness 
in a divorce case that involved both wife 
and child abuse, and the attitude of the 
judge hearing the case was one suitable for 
the old West. All of the attorneys were 
women, and he called each of them “little 
lady.” When asked to consider the prop- 
erty involved (a modest home and a 
piano), he replied, “This court is not here 
to split up pots and pans.” He made it 
very clear that he didn’t like being there 
and that this little case was going to make 
him late. After two witnesses from each 
side had testified, he rendered his judg- 
ment, though there were three more wit- 
nesses, including one of the abused 
children, ready to testify to the abuse. The 
judgment itself was fair: visitation only 
when an officer of the court is present and 


mandatory completion of an alcohol- 
abuse program for the man. But what sent 
me toward the ranks of the feminists was 
the judge's closing remarks: “А man's 
problems and handicaps should be given 
ial consideration. . . . A man’s home 
‚... Strict discipline never 


Bob Buelow 
Baytown, Texas 


MANDATORY READING 

While scanning the May 1985 issue of 
PLAYBOY, my husband read me a quote that 
was attributed to Justice Louis Brandeis: 
“The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in 
insidious encroachment by men of zeal, 
well meaning but without understanding.”” 
Then he read a letter penned by Timothy 
R. Higgins, a St. Louis attorney, who 


“The greatest dangers to 
liberty lurk in the 
insidious encroachment 
by men of zeal.” 


suggested that “every female, whenever 
fertile, should have intercourse with as 
many men as possible, lest she deny life to 
the dozens of children she is physically 
capable of bearing.” Assuming that 
Higgins speaks tongue in cheek—and hav- 
ing been made aware of Justice Brandeis’ 
quote—his “Mandatory Motherhood” 


was uproariously apropos. 


Higgins is a man after my own heart. If 
more of our God-fearing American men 
and women expended their energies to 
educate others about birth control, there 
would be fewer ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill- 
educated people of all ages sapping our 
system of the millions (perhaps billions) of 
dollars spent each year to care for the 
product of all that precious sperm that the 
pro-lifers are bent on preserving. 

I am so enamored of Higgins’ disserta- 
tion that Lam asking your permission to re- 
produce his letter so that I can share it with 
some friends. 

(Name withheld by request) 
Harrison, Arkansas 
Just spell our names right. 


WHODUNIT 

If New Jersey's host-liability law is a 
precedent with regard to drinking, will we 
now hold gunshop owners liable when 
someone is murdered with a gun they 
sold? 

Not that it’s a bad law, you understand; 
it just doesn’t go far enough. Not only 
should the host who served the alcohol be 
held liable but also the establishment that 
sold it, the manufacturer that distilled it, 
the company that made the bottle con- 
taining it, the firm that made the label 
identifying it and the brewers, vintners 
and corn farmers. 


Keith Dantin 
Hammond, Louisiana 
Now that you mention it, the Maryland 
Court of Appeals (the state’s highest) recently 
ruled that the manufacturer and the seller 
can be held liable if a so-called Saturday- 
night special is used to wound or kill some- 
body, on the interesting ground that. those 
parties should know that a cheap handgun 


has no legitimate function. 


VET ADVICE 

In the first eight weeks after PLAYBOY ran 
our free ad for Vietnam Veterans of Amer- 
ica, we received more than 700 enthu- 
siastic responses, Because of the quality of 
the artwork, we've also had some initial 
success in placing the ad in other publica- 
tions on a public-service basis. 

The Vietnam Veterans of America is 
about the business of serving Vietnam-era 
veterans, particularly those with claims for 
compensation for delayed stress or a dis- 
charge upgrade. We also serve veterans by 
publishing self-help manuals. Our most 
recent has just been published by Ballan- 
tine Books: The Viet Vet Survival Guide 
tells the vet how to cut through the 
burcaucracy to get what he needs and is 
entitled to. It is available in bookstores 


51 


PLAYBOY 


52 


for $3.95 or can be ordered directly from 
V.V.A?s product sales: Р.О. Box 3666, 
Santa Rosa, California 95402, for 54.95, 
postage paid ($5.25 for California resi- 
dents). 
Thanks for your support over the years. 
David Е. Addlestone, Director 
Vietnam Veterans of America 
Legal Services 
Washington, D.C. 


RAMBO FEVER 

A state of social anarchy is about to 
destroy this God-fearing city, also known 
as the “bold new city” of Jacksonville, 
Florida. 

Several years ago, Jacksonville was de- 
clared бес of pornography by Mayor Jake 
Godbold. It seems that a group of local 
clergy had banded together and had all 
X-rated films removed from the video 
stores. This act was part of a much larger 
scheme that included limiting the areas 
where topless bars could exist. Well, being 
a good ol’ Southern boy who grew up in 
the Bible Belt, I can certainly understand 
the concern of all involved, I think. 

Since this action, it seems that nary a 
day goes by in which the local paper 
doesn’t expound on the dreaded disease of 
pornography. Recently, а clergyman 
found it necessary to inform us less 
enlightened folk that all X-rated films 
should be banned from the carth (ideally, 
to heaven?), as they incite otherwise 
mild-mannered individuals to perform 
lewd and lascivious acts on cach other. 
Sounds a lot like monkey-sec, monkey-do 
philosophy to me. 

This gets to the crux of the matter. Гус 
not been able to slecp since I saw Rambo. 
At any minute, I fully expect the folk of 
this town to arm themselves with explod- 
ing arrows and wreak havoc in thc 
monkey-see, monkey-do fashion to which 
we seem so susceptible. I plan to organize 
a task force to determine how to prevent 
this calamity. My question is, Should I ask 
the local National Guard to pull all the 
Rambo movies from the shelves? I urgently 


beg a reply. 


Robert W. Patton, Jr., M.D. 
Jacksonville, Florida. 
Antiporn crusaders seem to get their jollies 
batiling sex, so we're not sure you want the 
National Guard battling violence. There may 
be a conflict of interest. 


FEEDBACK 

I thought you would enjoy knowing that 
my “Beaver State Follies” report on 
antiporn efforts in Oregon generated some 
positive responses. When the September 
PLAYBOY appeared, | figured Га get some 
hate mail from the local antiporn fanatics. 
Much to my surprise and pleasure, five 
people took the time to find out my tele- 
phone number and call to say how much 
they had enjoyed the piece. All were con- 
cerned about the antiporn groups’ suc- 
cesses and the fact that the local press has 


had nothing to say (editorially) about 
them. All who called were glad to sec 
somebody report on the antics of these 
weird people. 
Michael D. Dale 
Oregon City, Oregon 


CRITICS’ CORNER 
Did you know there’s a bunch down 
here calling itself the Coalition to Stop 
PLAYEOY? Those good people are running 
newspaper ads condemning what they 
consider pornography, which appears to 
be nearly everything, 
and they’ve come up 
with the most inter- 
esting definition of 
freedom Гуе ever 
heard—or of true 
freedom, I should say, 
as opposed to ordi- 
nary frecdom. “True 
freedom,” опе ай 
informs us, “is not the 
right to do as one wishes but the respon- 
to do as one ought.” Isn't that 
something straight out of Orwell’s Animal 
Farm? Our local Express-News columnist 
Mike Greenberg has already had a little 
fun with this, wondering if the inscription 
on the Statue of Liberty should be 
changed to read, GIVE МЕ YOUR TIRED, YOUR 
POOR, YOUR HUDDLED MASSES YEARNING TO DO 
AS THEY OUGHT. 
W. Bobby Stokes 
San Antonio, Texas 


I'm not sure I agree with Hugh Hefner 
about absolutely everything, but I've 
never thought of him as "every bit as 
dangerous as Adolf Hitler." Thats what 
Dr. Judith Reisman 
says he is, according 
to Chicago columnist 
Шу Kupcinet, who 
thought that quote 
was truly “astound- 
ing” in that it came 
from the head of the 
Justice Department's 
so-called porn study. 
Somehow, I had 
thought that Federal 
studies were supposed 
to enlighten us by 
means of scholarly 
research and that even if the Government 
were going to put in the fix, somebody 
would at least have enough smarts to try to 
conceal it. It says something—I don't 
know exactly what—about the presump- 
tuousness of the Reagan Administration 
thar it feels it unnecessary even to keep up 
appearances. This caused my basic admi- 
ration of the President to slip a bit. I do 
not expect Reagan’s people always to be 
correct, but I also do not expect them to be 
stupid. 


Larry deGesser 
Highland Park, Illinois 

If that Government study to determine any 

connection between pornography and child 


abuse were a legitimate effort, we'd enthusias- 
tically support it, but the Reagan Administra- 
tion might as well have formed its conclusions 
and appointed а former scriptwriter for 
"Captain Kangaroo" to wrile them up. As, in 
fact, it did. Reisman is something of a laugh- 
ingstock in the academic community, and the 
more the general public learns about her 
scholarly detachment and scientific objectiv- 
йу, the better. As for the Coalition to Stop 
PLAYBOY, we probably should admut that it’s a 
front for our Promotion Department. 


AIDS RESEARCH 

The letter from Henry H. Smith (The 
Playboy Forum, August) 15 typical of those 
long on emotion and short on fact. 

There are basic differences between Le- 
gionnaires' disease and AIDS. The former 
is caused by a bacterium and the latter, 
apparently, by a virus, which is more diffi- 
cult than a bacterium to isolate, charac- 
terize and identify. Viruses don’t respond 
to antibiotics, and preparation of antiyiral 
vaccines takes years. 

Further weaknesses abound in Smith’s 
comparison: Legionnaires’ disease сап 
be contracted by anyone, through the 
most casual circumstance of being in a 
building whose air-conditioning system is 
contaminated. Being rich, white or hetero- 
sexual has nothing to do with it. AIDS, on 
the other hand, requires intimate, possibly 
repeated, contact with the body fluids of 
an infected individual. 

As to Smith’s final point, thousands of 
men, women and children have not been 
killed by AIDS, nor do they continue to 
contract it. AIDS is still primarily a dis- 
case of homosexual males and 1.V.-drug 
users. No one knows how prevalent the 
AIDS virus is, whether or not a positive 
AIDS antibody test means an individual 
will develop the disease or whether or not 
every individual who harbors the virus 
will develop AIDS. But large sums of 
money are being spent to diagnose, treat 
and ultimately prevent it. And answers are 
being found at a rate that is remarkable, 
considering the complexity of viruses and 
the immune system 

George P. Highland 
Atascadero, California 


I am surprised by Henry Н. Smith's 
assertion that AIDS has been ignored, and 
even more surprised by рглүвсү7з lack of 
corrective comment following the letter 

In April 1984, Robert C. Gallo and his 
colleagues at the National Cancer Insti- 
tute announced the isolation of a virus that 
they named HTLV-II and believed to be 
the agent of AIDS. A year earlier, workers 
at the laboratory of Luc Montagnier at the 
Pasteur Institute in France identified a 
virus they called LAV and suggested it 
might cause AIDS. Soon after the discov- 
ery of HTLV-IIL was reported, Jay А. 
Levy and others at the University of 
California School of Medicine in San 
Francisco described an AIDS virus they 


FORUM NEWSFRONT 


what's happening in the sexual and social arenas 


BATTLE OFTHE BULGE 

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA—A woman nine 
months pregnant has filed a $600,000 
suit against a Falls Church sporting- 
goods store for accusing her of trying 
to shoplift a basketball. The plaintiff 


claims she was detained at the store for 
an hour and was threatened with a trip 
to the police station until she agreed 
to partially disrobe in front of six male 
security guards and police officers to 
establish the fact that the bulge under 
her dress came with the territory. 


MINOR MISTAKE 
SACRAMENTO—California | governor 
George Deukmejian is trying to use a cler- 
ical error to cut off family-planning funds 
to hospitals and clinics that offer abortion 
services to low-income women, but his 
efforts have been blocked by a state appeals 
court. In what had become an annual ril- 
ual, anti-abortionists had included that 
restriction in the 1985—1986 budget, and 
legislative budget writers had voted to 
eliminale it. This year, however, a clerical 
mistake left the provision in the budget 
bill, and the governor signed it into law 
over protests of the budget writers. The 
provision states, “No funds appropriated 
for the office of family planning shall be 
granted, directly or indirectly, to any 
group, clinic or organization which per- 
forms, promotes or advertises abortions, or 
which receives any direct or indirect com- 
pensation, advantage, benefit or gain 
from referrals for abortion services." 
Deukmejian said, “The question for те 
has to be, Do 1 think the language repre- 
sents the right thing to do? I do.” The 
court thought the governor was pulling a 
fast one and released the funds pending 
settlement. 


PLAY IT AGAIN, SAM 

SAN FRANCISCO—A 35-year-old woman 
has filed a $1,000,000 lawsuit against a 
singing-lelegram company for humiliat- 
ing her in front of her co-workers. À mis- 
take apparently was made, and instead of 
the traditional “Happy Birthday" that her 
boyfriend says he requested, the messenger 
delivered a bawdy ballad commenting on 
her proficiency at oral sex, among other 
things, while waving “an obnoxious soap, 
shaped in the form of male genitalia.” 
According to the woman's attorney, his cli- 
ent “collapsed on the floor and went into 
hysterics.” 


BIG BOY 

TALLAHASSEL—A slate appeals court has 
upheld the rape conviction of a Florida 
man who claimed that the trial judge 
еттей in not letting him show the jury his 
penis. The defendant argued thal the size 
of his organ—nine inches long and five 
and а half inches in circumference— 
excluded him as the man who raped a 14- 
year-old girl in 1984 and that the judge's 
refusal to admit photos, a wooden model 
or the real thing into evidence may have 
prevented his acquittal. A photographer 
and an investigator were allowed to testify 
as to the length of the organ, however, 
and the appellate decision found that the 
trial court's refusal to go beyond that was 
a proper exercise of judicial discretion to 
avoid the “needless presentation of cumu- 
lative evidence.” 


JUST FOR LAUGHS 

CHICAGO—AÀ Cook County judge has 
ordered a local greeting-card company to 
halt production, distribution and sales of 
a humorous card that carries the photo of 
a prominent Chicago-area Roman Catho- 
lic nun, who also asks an unspecified 
amount of monetary damages. The com- 
pany thought the picture was of a model 
and has apologized profusely to Sister 
Candida Lund, the chancellor of Rosary 
College in the Chicago suburb of River 
Forest. The photo on the cover is cap 
tioned, 175 ALL RIGHT IF YOU KISS ME, and 
the inside reads, SO LONG AS YOU DON'T GET 
IN THE HABIT. 


BELIEVE IT OR NOT 

WASHINGTON, DG—In а theologically 
surprising move, the National Conference 
of Catholic Bishops and the American 
Jewish Congress have released an agree- 
ment that appears to support the rights of 
parents to make the ultimate decision 
regarding treatment of babies born with 
severe birth defects. The joint statement, 
titled “Principles on Treatment of Handi- 
capped Newborns,” recommended that the 


Government “not intervene ‘in medical 
decisions made by parents of handicapped 
children” without “a preponderance of 
evidence” that the rights of the children 
are in jeopardy. While affirming the 
“sanctity of human life," the paper said 
that Roman Catholic and Jewish theolo- 
gians agree that extraordinary medical 
measures are “not required when such 
intervention is clearly futile and would do 
no more than briefly prolong the act of 
dying.” It adds that when experts disagree 
on treaiment of a life-threatening situa- 
tion, parents must make “conscientious 
and medically informed opinions,” based 
on what “seems mest likely to promote 
their child’s best interest.” The agreement 
is probably the most important result so far 
of a continuing Catholic-Jewish dialog 
that emerged from the Second Vatican 
Council and is considered the first inter- 
faith formulation on the complex issues of 
life and death. 


BREATHALYZER AND THEN SOME 

А device called Admit, which can 
distinguish the brain waves of people 
using different intoxicants, is being tested 
by a number of police agencies in New 
Jersey, Washington, D.C., and New 
Orleans. According to the 1.E.E.E. Spec- 
trum, a publication of the Institute of 
Electrical and Electronic Engineers, the 
instrument is an electronystagmograph 
(E.N.G.), originally developed to identify 
viclims of vertigo and various eye and ear 
disorders, The New Jersey laboratory mar- 
keting Admit says that its microprocessor 


can be used to determine which drug is 
causing characteristic brain waves. The 
test subject's brain function is monitored 
through a disposable headband, and the 
results appear almost immediately on a 
video screen, 


PLAYBOY 


called ARV. АШ three viruses аге 
retroviruses—their genetic material is not 
DNA but the related nucleic acid called 
RNA. The RNA is "reverse transcribed" 
into DNA in the infected host by a viral 
enzyme called reverse transcriptase. 

As of April of this year, the full nu- 
dleotide sequences of all three viruses have 
been published. A screening technique to 
determine the presence of antibodies to 
HTLV-II is now manufactured by five 
companies. The technique, known as 
ELISA, became available last February, 
but licensing was delayed by controversy 


over the implications of a positive test 
result; Should a donor be told if his or her 
blood contains HTLV-II? 

The above is evidence that AIDS is not 
being ignored; indecd, the scarch for a 
cure is commencing now that the cause is 
known. If a cure for AIDS exists, its 
realization can be hastened through an 
increase in Federal funding to a few 
research centers. Such a funding program 
could serve as a model for research fund- 
ing lor other diseases. 

When public figures make the kind of 
statements that Smith attributes to Pat 


Robertson of The 700 Club—that by 1990, 
all male homosexuals will have contracted 
AIDS and died—public support of Fed- 
eral funding for AIDS research may be 
undermined. Such a possibility puts evan- 
gelist Robertson in a class somewhat lower 
than that of a bigot 


Samuel М. 

Denton, Texas 
We addressed only the God's-punishment- 
for-sin issue, assuming, correctly, that our 
readership included some experts who would. 
save us the trouble of sending a тілувоу 
Researcher back to college for courses in 


KEEPING THE BLIND IN THE DARK 


The news that Congress had stopped the 
National Library Service from publishing 
PLAYBOY in Braille came as something of а 
surprise, since our articles and fiction win 
more than their share of awards and the pic- 
tures don't translate well into small bumps. 
But then we started licking off the achieve- 
тет of the current Congress and realized 
that ours was the wrong reaction. Given 
Congress’ record, we should have been sur- 
prised only if it had not stopped the publica- 
lion of рлувоу m Braille. Well, the right to 
use our material free of charge had been 
our gift to the Government and the blind 
community. Now we'll just have to ask the 
courts to decide how far the Government 
can go in extending censorship and 
viewpoint-based discrimination to its subsi- 
dized programs for the handicapped. 


By now, the news must have reached 
many PLAYBOY readers that during the 
week of July 15, 1985, the House of Rep- 
resentatives voted to cut off funding for 
the Braille edition of their magazine. 
This bit of legislative wisdom was in 
ated by Republican Representative 
Chalmers P. Wylie of Ohio, who was 
making a literary judgment about cither 
PLAYBOY or the appropriateness of such a 
publication for blind people. It has, in 
fact, been a point of pride within the 
blind community that PLAYBOY exists іп 
Braille: It helps establish the fact that 
blind people are otherwise “normal.” 

Russell Baker brilliantly satirized the 
whole situation in his July 23 New York 
Times column titled “Bland for the 

While Baker points out the 
amusing aspect of this legislation, behind 
this act is the serious question of censor- 
ship. Is this the first step toward censor- 
ing other materials deemed unsuitable 
for blind readers? 

The blind population has the right to 
have access to reading materials 
representative of the culture. Funds are 
allotted by Congress to the Library of 
Congress to provide all types of books 


and periodicals, and the titles are 
selected by a committee composed of 
professional librarians and visually 
impaircd readers. If funding has to bc 
cut, then that committee should decide 
which publications are withdrawn, 

What can be done about this matter? 
We must remain alert to such acts of 
censorship and try to halt them in the 
future. Perhaps, also, private funding 
and subscriptions paid for by blind read- 
ers would make it possible to continue 
the production of гілүвоү in Braille. 

George Bennette 

"The New York Associ 
for the Blind 

New York, New York 


tion 


Since »raynoy has always been a 
staunch defender of the First Amend- 
ment, 1 thought you might be interested 
in the letter Гус written to Congressman 
Wylie. 


1 am a totally blind 33-year-old 
college graduate employed full time 
as a medical transcriber at Chi 
dren's Medical Center in Dayton. 
My hobbies include swimming, 
cross-country skiing, piano, knitting 
and yoga. | live with my guide dog, 
Boots, and my parents. I give you 
this brief background to let you 
know that I am not sitting idly жай 
ing for my monthly copy of rLavvoy. 
I am deeply distressed to learn of 
your successful efforts to deprive 
those of us who are blind and enjoy 
reading rLavtoy of that pleasure 
privilege in the future. What gives 
you the moral authority to govern 
my choice of reading material when 
it is obviously illegal for you to make 
that decision for my sighted coun- 
terparts? Certainly, with such major 
issues as the budget deficit, tax 
reform and international crises from 
South Africa to South America, you 
and your distinguished colleagues 
have had enough to keep yourselves 


busy without worrying about what 
we few blind people enjoy reading. 

My favorite feature in PLAYBOY is 
the monthly Playboy Interview. V was 
not aware that such people as Steve 
Garvey, Bobby Knight, Paul New. 
man, Wayne Gretzky and the staff of 
60 Minutes were either peddlers of 
pornography or threats to our 
national security. Will you and your 
colleagues decide that we should be 
deprived of reading Time and News- 
week because they, too, might con- 
tain articles about and interviews 
with controversial figures whose po- 
litical or social opinions you might 
not agree with? Will you then 
decide to cut off funding for the 
national and local radio reading- 
service programs we've worked so 
hard to obtain? 

Ironically, I learned of your suc- 
cessful efforts to abolish funding for 
the Braille edition of 
through Russell Baker's column, 
which was read on a locally aired 
program whose purpose is to read 
the local newspaper editorial pages, 
syndicated columns, сіс., to allow 
blind people a greater perspective 
on news and world events. 

I hope reason will prevail and 
that you will see the light and aban- 
don this proposal before a danger- 
ous precedent is established 


PLAYBOY 


1 believe this letter speaks for most of 
us in the blind community. 
Rhea Collett 
Dayton, Ohio 


Chalmers P. Wylie is clearly a staunch 


guardian of the public treasure, a reso- 
lute defender of my morality and a liter- 
ary critic of formidable substance. It's 
men like him who have made this coun- 
try what it almost is today. 

Robert Russell 

Charles A. Dana Professor of English 

Lancaster, Pennsylvania 


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PLAYBOY 


microbiology. As for Robertson's perverse pre- 
diction, it just occurs to us that he's assuming 
that everyone born after 1990 will be hetero- 
sexual, for all time solving the AIDS problem 
and removing the homosexual peril to 
American morality. 


IN GOOD HANDS 

I'm glad to sec the issue of jury nulli- 
fication being debated so thoroug in 
your pages. Of course lawyers don’t like it; 
it takes matters out of their hands and puts 
them into the hands of the jury. 

But by no means is this anarchy; there's 
very good reason for it. The framers of the. 
U.S. Constitution knew the abuses that 
could occur if the courts were not held in 
check by the traditions of the community. 
"The jury to which an American defendant 
is entitled derives from the English-style 
jury, which came into existence hundreds 
of years ago, when the law in England was. 
so harsh and cruel that young children 
were hanged for stealing a loaf of bread. 
The injustice of the Кіпе 5 law was not 
acceptable to the community, and it inter- 
vened to temper his justice with mercy. So 
began one of the noblest and most endur- 
ing traditions of the English jury: 
examining not only the evidence but also 
the law itself. If, in the opinion of the 
community—as represented by the jury— 
which the law allegedly seeks to protect, 
the law is unnecessarily harsh and cruel, 
then jury members have the legal right 
and the legal obligation to overrule that 
law or to mitigate its effects. 

In New York, at one time, the law read 
that anyone caught selling as much as a 
stick of marijuana was subject to auto- 
matic life imprisonment. That's a classic 
case in which an intelligent jury ought to 
have taken one look at the law and, regard- 
less of the defendant’s apparent guilt or 
innocence, laughed the case out of court. 
Lawyers, of course, try to see that no one 
likely to exercise the juror's right to exam- 
ine the law as well as the evidence will get 
on the jury. Thus, they guarantee a 
greater number of convictions and their 
own future employment 

I strongly urge your readers, should 
they ever serve on a jury in a criminal 
case, to carcfully consider both the law 
and the evidence, regardless of what the 
judge and the Jawyers may want them to 
believe. 


(Name withheld by request) 
Palacios, Texas 


BOILING POINT 
When prisons are overcrowded, some 
inmates are, in сЙесі, sentenced to death 
through increased violence. Others are 
sentenced to recurrent homosexual rape. 
The courts of law do not pass or intend 
those added sentences, but the fact of over- 
crowding carries them out. 
Danny Ray Grantom 
Kansas State Penitentiary 
Lansing, Kansas 


PARENTAL DESTINY 

The area of equal rights for men that 
women find hardest to accept is the equa- 
tion between legalizing abortion and end- 
ing paternity suits. The issue here is 
control over one’s parental destiny. 

With legal abortion, women gained the 


H.M.H. 
AWARDS 


Congratulations to the winners of the 
1985 Hugh M. Hefner First Amend- 
ment Awards, who were honored at a 
reception at The Driskill Hotel in Aus- 
tin, Texas. Each winner received a 
commemorative plaque and a cash 
honorarium. Established in 1979, the 


First Amendment Awards are pre- 
sented each year to those 
considered to have made 
major contributions 
in the protec- 

tion and 

enhance- 


of First 
Amend- 
ment rights. 
Past рі 
include Frank Wilkinson, 
founder of the National Committee to 
Abolish the House Un-American 
Activities Committee; Robert Berger, 
Herbert Brodkin, Ernest Кіпоу and 
Herbert Wise, producers of the contro- 
versial television movie Skokie, Morton 
Halperin, director of the Center for 
National Security Studies; and Nat 
Hentoff, Village Voice columnist and 
author of The First Freedom: The 
Tumultuous History of Free Speech. 

This year’s winners: 

= Ronnie Dugger, publisher of The 
Texas Observer, for challenging special- 
interest politics for two decades. 

* Jack C. Landau, founder of the Re- 
porters’ Committee for Freedom of the 
Press,achampionofthe First Amendment. 

* Clifford McKenzie, a Kiowa tribe 
chief who exposed the misuse of Gov- 
ernment travel funds at the Bureau of 


Indian Affairs’ Technical Assistance 
Center. 
Dugger, Landau and McKenzie 


were selected by a distinguished panel 
of judges that included Stanlev K. 
Sheinbaum, immediate past chair of 
the American Civil Liberties Union 
Foundation of Southern California; 
arriet F. Pilpel, general counsel for 
L.U. and counsel for Weil, Gotshal 


A 


& Manges; Burton Joseph, Playboy 


Foundation Board Chair; and Christie 
Hefner, President and Chief Operating 
Officer, Playboy Enterprises, Inc, 


power to say, “I know that a child was 
conceived, but I refuse the parental 
responsibilities until I want them. If I 
decide Т am too young, too poor or just too 
busy, no one is going to force me to be a 
parent.” This is a brand-new kind of 
power, a power that paternity suits deny to 
men. 

The proponents of equal rights main- 
ain that power and responsibility go hand 
hand. Women demanded and received 
total power to decide whether or not to 
become parents, so they must be prepared 
for total responsibility. Put another way, a 
woman deserves the right to decide what 
she will do with the next 18 or so years of 
her life, but that should not give her the 
right to decide what her partner will do 
with his. Men need the same sovereignty 
that women have. 

Paternity suits are bascd on our tradi- 
tion of blaming men for all problems. 
However, the old sexist stereotype that a 
man perpetrates a pregnancy on a woman 
and then leaves her stuck with the respon- 
sibility is now more ridiculous than ever 
before. Thanks to legal abortion, mothers 
are not victims but, rather, women who 
have chosen to become parents. 

To end paternity suits is to allow men to 
make the same decisions that women 
freely make: “I am 16 years old and do not 
yet want to be a parent,” or “I am unem- 
ployed and cannot afford parenthood,” 
etc. 

Because the equation is valid, you can 
also see it in the words of those who defend 
paternity suits. Colleen Daily, who said in 
the June Playboy Forum that she was 
appalled by my equating the two, went on 
to explain that a man “abrogated the deci- 
sion to become a parent when he failed to 
take the necessary precautions to prevent 
conception.” Take those words, say them 
to a woman and you find yourself echoing 
the bas anti-abortion argument. 
Marjorie Fields, a very prominent feminist 
attorney, has hypocritically said to a man 
what only an anti-abortionist would dare 
say to a woman: “If you didn’t want to 
become a parent, you should have been 
sterilized.” 

‘Asa Baber, in his August Men column, 
gives five helpful suggestions to noncusto- 
dial fathers. Га like to add a sixth: Join the 
men’s movement! There will be no such 
thing as equal rights until you do. 

Fredric Hayward, Director 
Men's Rights, Inc. 
Sacramento, California 

This inviles a few comments, and we're 
sure our women readers will be pleased to 
supply Шет. 


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


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SEXUAL MCCARTHYISM 


sensational accusations, inquisitorial investigations, 
unfounded conclusions—it’s the same old story 


I have in my possession the names of 
57 Communisis who are in the State 
Department at present. 

—SENATOR JOSEPH MCCARTHY, 
FEBRUARY 11, 1950 


IT WASN'T TRUE, but it touched off hysterics 
that would last halfa decade. For the next 
five years, just being accused of Commu- 
ist leanings could get you fired or black- 
listed. It is a measure of the witches’ brew 
McCarthy stirred up that in 1954, just 
months before the Senate finally worked 
up the courage to condemn him, a Gallup 
Poll showed that 50 percent of America 
supported him. But when the weird spec- 
tacle of the Army-McCarthy hearings 
appeared on TV, the nation saw that its 
erstwhile hero was a fraud and a dema- 
gog. In December 1954, he was censured 
by the Senate. His name entered the dic- 
tionary (McCarthyism: The use of indis- 
a iate, often unfounded, accusa 
sensationalism, inquisitorial investigative 
methods); the man died, disgraced, three 
years later. 

One of the minor McCarthy-cra play- 
ers was one Ronald Reagan, B-movie 
actor, president of the Screen Actors 
Guild, FBI informant on members of his 
own union. In Hollywood in 1947, Rea- 
gan had appeared with like-minded 
movie folks (Gary Cooper, Adolphe 
Menjou) as a friendly witness before the 
Red-hunting House Un-American Activi- 
ties Committee, Almost 40 years later, 
President Reagan would set up a little 
hunt of his own. 

Early last year, Reagan's Attorney 
General, Edwin Meese, launched а 
scek-and-destroy mission called The 
Attorney General's Commission on Por- 
nography. There had been a Presidents 
Commission on Obscenity and Pornogra- 
phy under Nixon 18 years earlier. It con- 
cluded that there was no connection 
between pornography and antisocial 
behavior. That wasn't good enough for 


Reagan and Meese. “Re-examination of 


the issue of pornography is long ом 
due,” Meese told reporters last year. “No 
longer must one go out of the way to find 
pornographic materials. With the advent 
of cable television and video recorders, 
pornography now is available at home to 
almost anyone.” 

The Meese commission's ostensible 


By HUGH M. HEFNER 


goal is to study the effects of sexually 
explicit materials, but it will hear some 
viewpoints more sympathetically than 
others. At the hearings, law-enforcement 
officers and pornography "victims"— 
often hidden behind screens, like spies on 
60 Minutes—relate sexual horror stories. 
¡berties types get to speak, too, but 
the ringside seats arc packed for the 
commission’s slide shows of explicit por- 
nography. The witnesses who draw head- 
lines are the ones willing to blame their 
sad lives on “the evils of pornography.” 

How are these witnesses selected? 

"The Meese commission uses five inves- 
tigators to screen potential witnesses. 
You’d think the investigators would be in- 
terested in all sides of what even the com- 
mission admits is a complicated issue, but 
it seems you’d be wrong. 

Dr. Lois Lee is director of Children of 
the Night, a prominent Los Angeles 
organization that helps street kids, most 
of them young prostitutes, get off the 
streets. On August fifth of last year, Dr. 
Lee was contacted by Ed Chapman, a 
Virginia law-enforcement officer working 
for the Meese commission. He said he 
wanted her to line up some of her teen- 
agers to testify. Chapman then told Lec 
what he wanted the witnesses to say— 
that pornography had been used as a tool 
when their parents molested them and 
that this experience had led them into 
prostitution. 

“Wait a minute,” Lee said. She told 
Chapman that that was not the way it 
happened. Chapman replied that the 
investigators had talked with a lot of peo- 
ple about pornography being used by 
child molesters and that they knew this 
was generally the case. 

“I said it wasn't the case,” Lee told 
pLavkoy, “and he said, Ч don't think we're 
going to want your kids.’ The conversa- 
tion was ove 

The commission's investigators, it was 
clear, wanted witnesses to support a 
cause-and-effect. relationship between 
porn use and antisocial behavior. They 
wanted witnesses like the one who was 
willing to testify that her father had 
molested her after looking at a Playmate 
Calendar. What was the connection? It 
was, as Meese-commission invest 
Joe Haggerty told Lee with some 
asm, the fact that the witness had testified 


that she believed her father had molested 
her because she was closer to the ages of 
the Playmates on the calendar and looked 
more like them than her mother. Lee 
found this cause-and-effect notion prepos- 
terous. 


The professional Communist- 
hunters of the time were able to 
summon a stream of professional 
witnesses who seemed always ready, 
willing and able to testify that they 
had known so-and-so at Communist 
mectings in the past. Their testimony 
was as suspect as their claims that 
although they might have once been 
fooled by the Communist doctrines, 
they had suddenly seen the light and 
were now blessed with total recall. 

—rrom Days of Shame, wy SENATOR 
CHARLES E. POTTER, A MEMBER OF 
"THE 1954 MCCARTHY COMMITTEE 


The witness whose father had had the 
Playmate Calender was—probably not 
identally—a_bornee Chris 
It is an article of faith 
that the more impressive one’s list of early 
sins, the more glorious one's salvation. A 
long list of sins recanted helps assure 
redemption. (Sce The Self-Crucifixion of 
Cathleen Crowell Webb, by Elizabeth and 

Edwin Black, рг.лүноу, October 1985.) 
Much of the testimony belongs in re- 
vivalist meetings. Born-agein Brenda 
MacKillop, another Meese-commission 
witness, almost speaks in tongues. 


Lam a former Playboy Bunny. 

I was extremely suicidal and sought 
psychiatric help for the eight years I 
lived in a sexually promiscuous fash- 
ion, There was no help for me until 1 
changed my lifestyle to be a follower 
of Jesus Christ and obeyed the Bibli- 
cal truths, including no premarital 
sex... . Limplore the Attorney Gen- 
eral's commission to see the conn 
tion between sexual promiscuity, 
venereal disease, abortion, divorce, 
homosexuality, sexual abuse of chil- 
dren, suicide, drug abuse, rape and 
prostitution to. pornography. 
Come back to God, America, before 
it’s too late. 


For witness MacKillop, everything 
from divorce to acid indigestion can be 


chalked up to pornography. MacKillop 


described for the commission the episodes 
of her formerly promiscuous personal life 
In each instance, she attempted to blame 
Playboy—the magazine, the Clubs and 
the philosophy—for her sexual downfall. 

The Meese commission has wundled 
out a parade of born-again basket cases. 
antisex feminists and fun-hating funda 
mentalists. More than anything else, the 
testimony of these witnesses struck us as 
sad, misdirected—even pathetic. It was 
also inflammatory, misinformed scape- 
goating. 

Ina court of law, such witnesses would 
be dismissed for lack of cres у. Trial 
by headline—unsupported by evidence, 
unchallenged by cross-examination or 
witnesses for the defense—is not due 
the method of the Meese 
on, as it was for McCarthy 

The Meese commission has the trap- 
pings of an inquiry but not the substance. 
The Government is putting on a circus 
show of misinformation. It is using the 
power ofits position to prove that pornog- 
raphy is harmful rather than to research 
the facts. On another front, Dr. C. Everett 
Koop, the Surgeon General, who should 
have more respect for science, released a 
statement warning that “pornography 
may be dangerous to your health.” He 
told the nation, “Pornography is a 
destructive phenomenon. . . . It does not 
contribute anything to society but, rather, 
takes away from and diminishes what we 
regard as socially good.” He then listed, 
without supporting evidence, some of its 
dangers: Pornography “intervenes in nor- 
mal sexual relationships and alters 
them” 

What, if any, scientific evidence exists 
to support such claims? Professor Joseph 
E. Scott of Ohio State University ana- 
lyzed all the research available on what 
we have learned in the more than 15 years 
since the commission’s 1970 report about 
the relationship among violence, pornog- 
raphy and antisocial behavior. In a report 
to the American Association for the 


Advancement of Science, Professor Scott 
took on some of the common myths about 
pornography. 

Myth one: Porn is more violent today 


than 15 years ago. Wrong! Thi the 
addiction theory of porn, asserting that 
consumers become jaded and desensi- 
tized. Fundamentalists believe that one 
taste of sexually explicit material gets you 
hooked on the hard stuff. Porn has not 
become more violent. The porn slide 
shows mentioned earlier may be frighten- 
ng and certainly are offensive to some, 
but they contain selected images. They do 
not reflect the market place. Scott says 
when Time magazine runs an article 
claiming that S/M is the latest trend in 
porn, it misinterprets the available 
research. How violent is porn? Scott 
found that X-rated movies had less vio- 
lence than G-, PG- or R-rated movies. 


The average number of violent acts per 
movie were 20.3 for the R-rated, 16.2 for 
the G-rated, 15,3 for the PG movies and 
4.4 lor the X-rated movies. 

Myth two: Exposure to porn leads to 
violence. Wrong! There is no scientific 
evidence that reading or viewing sexually 
explicit material causes antisocial behav- 
ior. (In fact, several studies have shown 
that exposure to gentle erotica actually 
lessens aggression.) However, there аге 
two endlessly quoted rescarchers who say 
they've proved that exposure to violent 
sexual depiction increases the likelihood 
of certain males’ “condoning or expres 
ing willingness to act aggressively against 
females." We're not sure what that means 
in real life. Scott reports that the only 
long-term study of violent porn disproved 
that myth: “Researchers examined mar- 
ried couples over a three-month period. 
They found that exposure to violent 
themes produced no significant changes 
in the participants’ behavior.” The most 


“The Meese commission 
has trundled out a 
parade of born-again 
basket cases, antisex 
feminists and fun-hating 
fundamentalists.” 


frequently quoted research has been that 
done by UCLA professor Neil Malamuth, 
the “professor of porn,” using college 
undergraduates in lab situations. No one 
believes that the artificial effects created 
by watching pornographic films in a lab 
carry over to real life. Has anyone ever 
participated in the experiments, then 
raped а coed? If viewing X-rated films 
leads automatically to violence against 
women, then Malamuth, who has been 
showing these films for years, would have 
been arrested for rape a long time ago. 

Is there a way to gauge the effect of 
crotic material on the general population? 
One study compared sex-magazine- 
readership rates with rape rates by state. 
The researchers found a moderately 
strong relationship between rape rates 
and the consumption of adult magaz 
Taken by itself, this would be cause for 
concern. However, a correlation is not the 
same as cause and effect. Subsequent 
studies have shown how tenuous that 
relation is. Consider Field & Stream or 
Guns & Ammo. Rescarchers found that 
the circulation of outdoor magazines has 
a higher correlation with rape than the 
number of adult bookstores in each state. 


ines. 


One would assume that rape rates might 
be higher in those states with the most 
adult theaters. No relationship has been 
found. To further confuse the issue, 
researchers have found rape rates to be 
higher in urban arcas, in poor areas, in 
areas with high proportions of nonwhites 
and in areas of high alcohol consumption 
Each of these variables showed a stronger 
relationship to rape than the number of 
adult theaters and bookstores. 

Perhaps the best way to confront the 
myths about porn violence is to look at 
the Danish experience. Denmark legal- 
ized pornography in the late Sixties. Last 
year, a conference was held to review the 
effects of porn on social and criminal 
behavior. Berl Kutchinsky, a criminolo- 
gist from the University of Copenhagen, 
summarized 15 years of research: 


The conclusion is very clear that 
pornography is not a danger— 
neither to persons, neither to society, 
neither to children nor to adults. lt 
doesn't lead to sex offenses; it doesn’t 
lead to sexual deviations. . . . The 
only thing about pornography is that 
it makes people masturbate. . 
People’s attitude toward sexuality 
and, therefore, toward pornography 
is almost 100 percent determined 
by their religious convictions. And 
those are not altered by facts. 


The Meese commission, with its 
fundamentalist foundation, is not likely to 
be swayed by facts. In effect, Kutchinsky 
was voicing the 1970 findings of the Presi 
dent’s Commission on Obscenity and 
Pornography: 

The comm m believes that 
much of the "problem" regarding 
materials which depict explicit sex- 
ual activity stems from the inability 
or reluctance of people in our society 
to be open and direct in dealing with 
sexual matters. . - . The commission 
believes that there is no warrant for 
continued interference with the full 
freedom of adults to read, obtain or 
view whatever such material they 
wish. 


"The Meese commission has written 
own warrant for interference with our 
freedom. It despises fact. This sexual 
McCarthyism is as rooted in deception, 
innuendo and outright lies as the original 
version 

We think women and men have a 
to sexual knowledge. We think that, as 
free adults, they have a right to choose 
what they will and will not see. But then, 
we thought the smell of McCarthyism 
had dissipated 30 years ago. Until 
it departs again, those who believe 
in free minds must make every effort 
to oppose the new wave of 
sexual McCarthyism. [э] 


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rravsov wrerview: DR. RUTH WESTHEIMER 


a candid conversation between the playboy advisor and the pint-sized 
pollyanna of passion—about good sex, safe sex ата ter-r-r-r-rific sex! 


“Hello, Гт Dr. Ruth Westheimer. Our 
program is called ‘Sexually Speaking.” My 
producer is Susan Brown, my engineer Fred 
Zeller. The other engineer helping us is Wal- 
ter Ryan, and the executive producer is Mor- 
ris Tudick. Our telephone number, toll-free, 
nationwide is 1-800-635-5483. . . . And 
you are on the air-r-r!” 

She's toll-free. She's nationwide, She's hot- 
ter than Madonna. She's a media darling, 
someone who sends reporters rushing to their 
pop-culture thesauruses for cule comparisons 
(see above): “The Munchkin of the Bedroom” 
(Time); "the Mary Poppins of the 
orgasm” (The Washington Post); “Grand- 
ma Freud” (Chicago Sun-Times); and 
according to People, she gets “the kind of 
respect Golda Meir would've gotten had she 
been a gynecologist.” 

Ruth Westheimer is famous because she 
violates one of the deepest, least recognized 
taboos in Western culture: talking with an old 
person/parent about sex. Imagine asking your 
mother how to perform oral sex or what those 
ben-wa balls in the drawer are really for. 
Appropriately for a mother figure, she is a 
sexual conservative who will always under- 
stand you—but this one happens to speak 
always with delightful directness. 

Listen to her radio show and you see that 
she isa natural: Not a second goes by without 


“The reason for my success is that I'm well 
trained. I have guts. I'm willing to speak 
directly. And I knew how to take an oppor- 
tunity when it was presented to те- ith 
two hands. Small hands, but a firm gri 


a sigh of compassion, a giggle, a cheerful 
“Have good sex!” She claims, “I was on the 
show for a year before someone explained to 
me what dead air was. I didn't know.” There 
isn't any. She fills the air with exclamation 
points, like a karate expert splitting bricks. 
She holds your attention. Hers is a holo- 
graphic personality: You get her entire shtick 
in a tenth of a second. She can relate to a 
telephone, to a microphone, to a television 
camera, lo a Smith-Corona typewriter. 

Dr. Ruth, as she is universally known, has 
packaged sex information—the work of Mas- 
lem and Johnson and Helen Singer 
Kaplan —and made it safe for the great un 
washed. She is for contraception. She is for 
relationships. She is for religion (she is just as 
likely to refer someone to a priest as to a urolo- 
gist). She is the archetypal matchmaker. If a 
caller mentions that he is in a sexual relation- 
ship, she asks, “Are you planning to get mar- 
ried?” If a girl tells her she is seeing a guy 
who's obviously not serious about her, Dr 
Ruth signals her engineer to put on one of 
her favorite songs: “Um Gonna Wash That 
Man Right Out of My Hair.” (She has no 
song for guys who are being toyed with by a 
girl; yes, there may be a hint of a double stand- 
ard in Dr. Ruth's musical therapy.) 

Her accent is the first stroke of the packag- 
ing genius thal is Dr. Ruth—the last person 


“Johnny Carson said he wonders where Fred 
Westheimer goes when his wife has a head- 
ache. In all earnest, talking and teaching 
about sex is conducive to а better sex life. It 
has loosened me up and helped my skiing.” 


who made such a career move on the basis of 
accent alone was José Jiménez, astronaut. 
With Dr. Ruth, sex therapist, we get a Jewish 
mother dispensing clitoral instructions with a 
German. accent. She rolls her Rs as if she 
were dropping marbles down a rain pipe: 
“ter-1-r-r-rif,” “br-r-r-avo,” "r-r-r-right.” 

The other ingredient in the packaging suc- 
cess of Dr. Ruth is the fact that she is a phe- 
nomenon that could have gotten its start only 
in New York. With the first broadcast of her 
New York City-based radio show, she became 
the rave of taxi drivers and policemen. People 
quickly recognized her voice, and once her tel- 
evision appearances began, the combination 
of her 4'7" height and those trilled Rs made 
her unmistakable on the streets and on the air- 
waves of New York. Now, of course, people 
all over America recognize her from her spots 
on "Letterman," “The Tonight Show," “Good 
Morning America" and the cover of People 
magazine. She has been parodied on "Satur- 
day Night Live.” She has appeared in a comic 
strip, "Bloom County," as Dr. Ruth "Spank 
"Em" Westheimer. She is amused, even if she 
doesn't get the joke. And now the fame has 
become international, as Dr. Ruth has taken 
her show to the European airwaves. 

She is a 57-year-old mother of two, born in 
Frankfurt am Main as Karola Ruth Siegel. 
In 1939, she was shipped to Switzerland with 


PHOTOGRAPHY EY BENNO FRIEOMAN 


“A young man called and said, ‘Dr. Ruth, my 
girlfriend likes to toss fried onion rings on my 
erect penis.’ That permilted me to say, in a 
wonderful way, that I believe anything two 
consenting adults do in privacy is fine.” 


61 


100 other Jewish children and never saw her 
parents again. In 1945, she moved to Israel, 
joined the Haganah freedom fighters and 
married the fust of her three husbands. In 
1952, she moved to Paris, enrolled at the 
Sorbonne to study psychology, met her second 
husband and had a daughter. She then 
moved to America. In 1961, she met her third 
husband, Fred Westheimer, on a ski trip. This 
one was a keeper. For the next decade or so, 
she was a graduate student and a home- 
maker, raising her daughter and son. She 
obtained her master's degree in sociology and 
then a doctorate from Columbia University in 
the interdisciplinary study of the faraily— 
that’s Dr. Ruth as in Ed.D., not as in M.D., 
as she is careful to point аш when she declines 
to give medical advice. 

In 1980, WYNY-FM, an NBC station in 
New York, asked her to do a radio show on 
sex. The rest is media history: That show is 
now carried in 45 cities, she has a television 
show on the Lifetime Cable Network and the 
lady is, well, everywhere. 

Her markeling instincts are those of a 
friendly barracuda: After the Playboy Rabbit 
Head, she has fashioned for herself the most 
recognizable logo in the world of sex. There is 
“Dr. Ruth’s Guide to Good Sex.” а book. 
There is “First Love: A Young People’s Guide 
to Sexual Information.” There is Dr. Ruth's 
Game of Good Sex, in which couples move 
their pieces around a board, accumulating 
arousal points, They answer such questions 
as “True or false: The word orgy comes from 
the Japanese word origami, meaning а fold- 
ing into beautiful shapes.” If you land on the 
wel spol, you lose a point. If you listen to 
“Sexually Speaking,” you get to roll the dice 
and move again. And, coming soon in a 
video store near you, the Dr. Ruth video: 
“Terrific Sex." 

Dr. Ruth makes things happen, but she is 
also one of those people things happen to: 
Director Daniel Vigne was making a movie 
in Paris. He needed a tall American woman 
(Sigourney Weaver) and a short American 
woman (“Guess who!”). Dr. Ruth “One 
Take" Westheimer plays a character called 
Madame Heffner. (Yes, that’s Heffner.) And 
the band wagon rolls оп. 

We decided there was only one appropriate 
interviewer for a subject this close to home: 
James R. Petersen, the Playbay Advisor, no 
stranger himself to traveling road shows from 
his popular campus appearances, and author 
of “America's most widely read men’s sex- 
education resource” (USA Today). Peter- 

"s report: 
Ve at PLAYBOY have been giving sex ad- 
vice for 25 years, so Dr. Ruth struck me as 
the new kid in town. Who can argue with 
someone who wants you to have good sex? We 
haven't settled for good sex in years, but, hey, 
someone has to do it. 

“She may be the new kid, but I got more 
mothering in the ten days in which we con- 
ducted this interview than I have in the past 
ten years. Al our first meeting, she said, ‘Hold 
out your hands,’ then prompily filled them 
with chotchkes—hey chains with her logo on 
them, coffee cups with her radio stations’ ini- 


tials on them—for everyone back at the Chi- 
cago office. At the end of each session, she 
would ask if I had someone looking after 
me for the night. She introduced me to every- 
one we met—as she does with everyone who 
is with her—on the chance that one person 
might be able to help another. She carries 
numbers and names around in a little book 
swelled to the point of bursting with scraps of 
paper. Her Rolodex must need its own Sherpa. 
She is tireless and will walk your socks off. 

“As we walked along the streets of New 
York, from one appointment to another, a 
squad car addressed her over the bullhon 
“Dr. Ruth! She signed autographs gladly: 1 
love it!” Older matrons came up to her in res- 
taurants, whispering problems into her ear in 
words they probably had never spoken aloud: 
“I love it!’ A young couple thanked her for 
being such a live wire in the sex-therapy pro- 
fession, usually populated by colorless duds: 
1 love it!’ She is adored by the city of New 
York. Walking around with her is like being 
trapped on the set of а Broadway musical 
where the erections are as high as an ele- 
phant’s eye and everyone—as Dr. Ruth 
always warns—uses contraception. 

“She is very agile. She says that she is 
against confrontation, and when questioned 


“Roch Hudson should not 
have kissed anybody. He 
should have let a stunt man 
do the kissing.” 


on some of her beliefs, she will acknowledge 
that she says one thing in her writing, another 
thing on the air and yet a third іт interviews. 
She is overprotective: She would rather keep 
one person from bitter disappointment in sex- 
ual experimentation than actively encourage 
a thousand Lo go for it—caulion, not cour- 
age, nor for that matter, curiosity. She could 
charm the nut off a fireplug, and no matter 
that you disagree with her, within five min- 
ules you'll undoubtedly be promising lo do her 
a favor. 

“I put off doing this interview for five 
years—first I thought she was a local act, that 
New Yorkers would fall for anything. Then I 
thought she was a case of terminal cuteness 
on ‘Letterman.’ Then I noticed that she was 
booking 30 lectures a year on college cam- 
puses, doing five nights a week on cable, 60 
cities on her radio show—and, at my editors’ 
urging, I had to look again. Dr. Ruth is a 
phenomenon, someone who holds a mirror up 
to America. The fact that she is famous tells 
us something about ourselves. 

“By the way, after our last exhaustive 
interview session, with Dr. Ruth off to some 
promotion or other, I went back to my hotel 
room for the night. I was tired and just 
wanted to sit back and listen to some music. I 
ordered room service and switched on the 
radio. There she was again, answering ques- 
tions on ‘Sexually Speaking” The waiter 


arrived, glanced at the radio and didn't bat 
an eye al me. Just another lonely guy listening 
to Dr. Ruth.” 


PLAYBOY: Not long ago, The Playboy Advisor 
received a letter that began, “We couldn't 
get through on Dr. Ruth’s phone lines, so 
we are writing to you.” Are you stealing 
our readers? 

DR. RUTH: I love it. [Claps her hands, 
bounces up and doun in her seat] You are 
going to put that in the interview, yes? 
PLAYBOY: You're working our beat. We fig- 
ured it was time we got to know you better. 
Should we vicw you as competition? 

DR. RUTH: Listen, people ask me all the 
time, “Do you know there's somewhere 
else a show on sex?” They expect me to 
say, “How dare they do a show on sex!” 
And I say, “Ter-r-r-rific.” There is a big 
country out there, and a place for all of us. 
PLAYBOY: Well, welcome to the Playboy In- 
terview, Dr. Ruth. 

DR. RUTH: It will be appearing in the 
Christmas season, yes? Bless my Jewish 
soul. I love it! 

PLAYBOY: Arc you awarc of your image as 
Grandma Freud, pint-sized guru of sex? 
DR. RUTH: Wr-r-rong! [Wags her finger] Um 
too young for that! I'm 57 years old. Гуе 
never hidden my age. Now, I don't like the 
Chicago Sun-Times' calling me Grandma 
Freud. [ want them to call mc Aunt Freud 
or Auntie Freud, not Grandma Freud. 
And I hatc the word guru. I don't have 
any followers! I don't want any followers! 
PLAYBOY: But you do have fans. Fach week, 
thousands of college students listen to your 
show Sexually Speaking. It’s hard not to be 
charmed by someone who answers her 
phone with "Are you using contracep- 
tives?” and ends every show with “Have 
good sex!” So let's get right to the good 
stuff. What was your favorite phone call? 
DR. RUTH: A young man callcd and said, 
“Dr. Ruth, my girlfriend and I arc in love 
each other very much. We want to get 
married. In order to be on your good side, 
I want you to know that we are using 
contraceptives." And I said, “Good.” 
"Then I said, “What's your problem?" He 
said, "My girlfriend likes to toss fried 
onion rings on my erect penis." 

PLAYBOY: Fricd onion rings? 

DR. RUTH: As | am a good sex therapist, 
you know that I have to visualize what 
happens in people's bedrooms, right? 
"That phone call permitted mc to say, in à 
wonderful way, that I believe that any- 
thing two consenting adults do in the pri- 
vacy of their bedrooms, in the living room 
or on the kitchen floor is fine with me. 
PLAYBOY: You bclieve that anything gocs? 
DR. RUTH: I have some problems with 
masochism and sadism. I believe that a 
sex therapist like myself should know her 
limitations. Ifa couple walk into my office 


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PLAYBOY 


and say that they are engaged in sadomas- 
ochism, that he can have an erection only 
if he sees blood, that she doesn't mind it, 
that she gets sexually very aroused by 
being beaten, I personally cannot treat 
them. Now, I’m not going to say to them, 
“Go to prison,” because I just stated to 
you that anything two consenting adults 
do is OK. But I will use a white lie. 1 will 
look at my calendar and say, “I’m so 
booked up, I'm going to give you the name 
ofa colleague." I couldn't work with S/M. 
Pm not going to go to a psychiatrist to find 
out why. 

PLAYBOY: Your view of S/M seems rather 
extreme. S/M can actually be milder than 
Saturday-morning cartoons. Most people 
don't go for blood. But you have dealt with 
milder versions of S/M on your radio 
show, haven't you? 

DR. RUTH: A girl told me on the air, “My 
boyfriend and I are getting into whips and 
chains.” Immediately, 1 asked, “With 
contraception?” That made my friends in 
the control room laugh. But I was serious! 
You can start pretending with whips and 
chains and end up having a real baby or an 
abortion. If I can help prevent just опе 
unwanted pregnancy by persuading some- 
‘one to use contraception, then all the talk- 
ing will have been worth while. 

PLAYBOY: And if someone just happens to 
have good sex along the way? 

DR. RUTH: Ter-r-r-rific. 

PLAYBOY: What's your prescription if sex is. 
just routine—let's say, for a couple with 
Kids who have been married some years? 
DR. RUTH: I suggest that parents pick up a 
baby sitter and go to a motel. Hopefully a 
motel with a water bed and some sexually 
explicit movies, if that is what they like. 
PLAYBOY: You don't think that Debbie Does 
Dallas is bad for the moral fabric? 

DR. RUTH: If a couple want to watch that, 
and afterward get sexually aroused—do it 
If they have a good sexual episode, that’s 
great. I do suggest to many of my clients, 
“Go and r-r-rent!" I tell them, “Don’t buy 
those movies, because after you see them 
five times, you don’t want to sec them any 
more. R-r-rent them!” 

PLAYBOY: We assume that you've seen 
sexually explicit movies. What was your 
reaction to your first X-rated movie? 

DR. RUTH: I blushed. I looked around to see 
if anybody else sees what I am seeing. And 
there is no question that even though I 
blushed, even though I was embarrassed, 
even though I thought, What is a good girl 
like me doing in a place like this? I clearly 
remember thinking that people are all idi- 
ots if they say that only men get aroused 
by sexually explicit movies. Women do, 
too. Period. 

PLAYBOY: In your most recent book, you 
say that one of the dangers of viewing 
pornography is that it may lead to false 
expectations. 

DR. RUTH: By pornography, I mean 
sadomasochism and sex with children. 
PLAYBOY: The critics of porn define it as 
any sexually explicit material. Is there a 


danger to viewing sexually explicit films? 
DR. RUTH: People have to realize that fe- 
males are less likely to cooperate in real 
life than the way the actresses behave in 
films. Real women and men have to please 
cach other, and that takes time and under- 
standing. Some men think that because 
they get this fantastic erection, the women 
are supposed to be automatically aroused. 
Tt doesn't work that way. 

PLAYBOY: What do you say to Women 
Against Pornography—who say sexually 
it material degrades women? 

Um not excited by all this 
Women Against Pornography. I think if a 
woman is permitted to be sexually aroused 
by some of these things, fine. I say that 
such movies can enrich people's lives— 

both men and women. 

PLAYBOY: If you were asked to testify in 
front of the Meese Commission on Por- 
nography, what would you say about that 
ind of movie? 

DR. RUTH: I would say, “Don't advertise 
with big naked pictures outside the movie- 
house, because there are children passing 
by.” There are people from different 
moral, ethical and religious backgrounds, 
and you might offend them. But ifa couple 
want to sec a sexually ex; movie, let 
them see it. I want them to go together, to 
hold each other when they watch. I don’t 
want them raincoats. 

PLAYBOY: Since it hits close to home, we 
may as well ask you what you think of the 
recent banning of Congressional funds for 
the Braille edition of PLAYBOY. 

DR. RUTH: That's outrageous. That's out- 
rageous. [Hits table] Let me tell you what I 
would like to do. I’m trying to get mon 
to have closed captions for the hearing- 
paired on my cable-T'V show. I would like 
to be the first one who has that on a show 
about sex. Why should the handicapped 
be deprived, in either case? Talk to Hefner. 
Maybe we can do that together. 

PLAYBOY: We'll talk to Hef. But back to the 
interview. Any more suggestions on how 
our readers can spice up their sex lives? 
DR. RUTH: | certainly do suggest not having 
sex at a regular time, such and such a 
date, such and such a day of the weck, 
after the Johnny Carson monolog. 1 say 
vary it. I suggest to people to have sex in 
the morning sometimes. It is not true that 
women are not sexually aroused in the 
morning. It is just that society has told 
women to have their hair combed, their 
faces made ир... just so, before they have 
sex. That's nonsense. I say go to different 
places, not just in bed. I say to married 
people, “Go to lovers lane.” It is very 
exciting to think that all of these cars have 
people in them making out. 

PLAYBOY: Are there inappropriate places? 
DR. RUTH: Yes, I think that any public place 
is inappropriate. I don’t say to somebody, 
Зо to Bloomingdale's, and on the escala- 
tor, go behind her and stick it in.” But in 
secluded places, absolutely, Go into the 
dunes at a secluded beach. 

PLAYBOY: With all the practical advice you 


give on sex, perhaps we should ask, Does 
Dr. Ruth have a test bedroom of her own? 
DR. RUTH: I do not have a test bedroom. 
One night, Johnny Carson said in the 
monolog, he wonders where Fred West- 
heimer goes when his wife has a headache. 
I would say in all earnest that talking and 
teaching about sexuality is certainly con- 
ducive to a better sex life and not the con- 
trary. Talking about sex has even helped 
my skiing. It helps me loosen up. But let's 
face it, if I can't keep a sexual interest 
alive, then I should get out of this busi- 
ness. So don't ask what positions I am 
using. I don’t speak about myself. 
PLAYBOY: We'll come back to that, but 
other than what you've already ruled out, 
what do you find inappropriate in bed? 
DR. RUTH: Well, it is certainly inappropriate 
for a man to keep asking, “Are you com- 
ing?” unless that particular woman gets 
very sexually aroused by that. Insisting or 
asking that question will make sure the 
woman will not be able to have an 
orgasm. 

PLAYBOY: If he can't tell whether or not 
she's satisfied, what do you suggest? 

DR. RUTH: Later on, afterward, he can ask. 
If she doesn't volunteer the information, I 
want him to ask. Then I want him to use 
the afterplay to satisfy her manually, 
orally—or with his big toe. [Giggles] Here 
is a new position for you! 

PLAYBOY: Judging by the Advisor mail, it's 
not new to PLAYBOY readers, Dr. Ruth. 

DR. RUTH: Yes, the big toe touching the cli- 
toris might be ver-r-y enjoyable! 

PLAYBOY: The Joy of Sex has more than 200 
pages on sex but only a few paragraphs on 
oral sex. Masters and Johnson wrote two 
books without mentioning it. Your book 
gives it one chapter. Why do you think the 
traditional authorities have so little to say 
оп the topic, and what does Dr. Ruth say? 
DR. RUTH: There is no question in my mind 
that more younger people than older pei 
ple are engaging in oral sex. I mention it in 
First Love, my book of advice for teenag- 
ers. I tell girls to experiment, to learn how 
to perform fellatio by practicing on a 
banana or a lollipop or a Popsicle. Some 
men have an aversion to the taste of a 
woman's vagina. Last night on the show, 1 
came up with a new suggestion. Maybe it's 
not bad. I told him to just kiss the outer 
portion, above the clitoris. 

PLAYBOY: Well, we've had to give advice 
along those lines, and we've suggested to 
men that they put a cough drop in their 
mouth to create a taste and a sensation the 
woman doesn’t expect. We've suggested a 
drop of Binaca on the tongue. 

DR. RUTH: A spr-r-ritz? I love it! I love it! 
[Claps her hands in delight] 

PLAYBOY: Let's talk seriously about the 
scxual topic that has become a national 
obsession—-AIDS. What's your current 
advice to gays who call you about that 
disease? 

DR. RUTH: I treat homosexuals with the 
same respect that I treat heterosexual cou- 
ples with. 1 ат very serious in saying these 


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PLAYBOY 


66 


days, it has nothing to do with morality. 
I'd say to any homosexual who crossed 
my path, or on the phone, “Until we find 
a cure for AIDS, if you don’t have one 
partner you can trust, don't cruise. Un- 
less you are sure that there are no 
other sexual encounters, masturbate. 
Until they find a cure, casual, promiscu- 
ous sex is dangerous.” 
PLAYBOY: Has homosexual 
changed? 

DR. RUTH: 1 think that there are more and 
more homosexuals who are remaining 
with onc partner, where they would have 
cruised before. 1 tell them to keep a black 
book for the future. You meet Mr. X, you 
say, “That guy is the first one I'm going to 
call as soon as we have a cure for AIDS." T 
think Rock Hudson did a courageous thing 
by saying, “Let the world know 1 have 
AIDS." He knew that there would bc all 
kinds of speculation. I am not interested in 
whether or not Rock Hudson was homo- 
sexual. I admired his courage. He helped 
other people say, “Hey, hold it. Maybe we 
ought to wait.” 

PLAYBOY: Should Rock Hudson have соп- 
ünued to work once he knew he was 
afflicted with AIDS? 

DR. RUTH: Yes. My personal opinion, and 
I'm going to get into trouble. I feel sad for 
ali of the thousands of women who fan- 
tasized about being in his arms, who now 
have to realize that he never really cared 
about them. I heard one older woman say, 
“I used to dream about him; too bad that 
he really didn’t like erotic relations with 
women.” But I do believe he should not 
have kissed anybody. If he knew he had a 
disease that was communicable, he should 
not have kissed. He should have found 
some excuses. He should have let a stunt 
man do the kissing. I’m sure that there are 
plenty of stunt men willing 10 kiss those 
gorgeous women. And tell the stunt man 
[wageles a finger], if he does more than 
kissing, he should use a condom! 

PLAYBOY: Should a child who contracted 
AIDS be allowed to attend school? 

DR. RUTH: I am not a medical doctor. If a 
doctor told me there was a reason for that 
kid not to go to school, I would say fine. 
But now, I say he can go. 

PLAYBOY: How should heterosexual men 
and women react to AIDS? 

DR, RUTH: Again, I am not a medical doc- 
tor, so I cannot comment on specifics. But 
good sex is good sex. Be discriminating. Be 
careful. It is absolutely clear now that this 
issuch an epidemic, nobody can call it just 
a homosexual problem. It is threatening to 
LV. drug users, to people who come into 
contact with infected blood and, ulti- 
mately, to heterosexuals. We cannot iso- 
late the gays. This affects us all. 

PLAYBOY: What do you say about the peo- 
ple who would quarantine gays, prosti- 
tutes and AIDS victims? 

DR. RUTH: Coming from Nazi Germany and 
having survived Hitler and the concentra- 
tion camps, I am very worried when I hear 
the word quarantine. Because the next 


behavior 


thing they might decide is everyone 477” 
should be quarantined. 
PLAYBOY: AIDS isn’t the only source of sex- 
ual fear around. What do you tell hetero- 
sexuals who are afraid of herpes and other 
sexually transmitted diseases? 
DR. RUTH: The dangers of sex must not be- 
come a fixation. After all, we face germs 
and the possibility of illness every day in 
the street. In return for all of our pleasures 
in life, it isn't too much to behave sensibly. 
The principle to follow in sex is to do any- 
thing pleasurable if there is no harm 
and both partners accept it. But we live in 
a world of reality, and both men and 
women should avoid activities plainly 
marked DANGER. 
PLAYBOY: Even before the AIDS hysteria, 
Time ran a cover story on the herpes fear, 
claiming that it had stopped the sexual 
in its tracks. Do you agree? 
DR. RUTH: No, I don't believe in that. I 
don’t believe that what we gained in terms 
of knowledge, in terms of attitude, is going 
to disappear. The woman who now feels 
the right to tell her lover how to stimulate 
her clitoris just so in order to have an 
orgasm is not going to give up that right. 
These gains are going to stay. 
PLAYBOY: Time argued. with its tongue only 
a bit in its cheek, that the one-night stand 
was the only significant product of the вех- 
ual revolution. What do you say? 
DR. RUTH: Nonsense. Nonsense. Only a 
very small number of people were engaged 
in one-night stands. It just hit the head- 
lines, because it made good copy, and 
everybody bought the papers, including 
me. I sce a story about one-night stands, 
and who is the first one to buy it? Me. Not 
in order to do it but to learn about it. 
PLAYBOY: What are the most common 
problems you treat in private practice? 
DR. RUTH: I see quite a number of women 
who cannot reach orgasm. I see older men 
with erectile difficulties. I also see quite a 
number of men in their 30s who have 
never had a sexual experience and are 
scared. 
PLAYBOY: How do you advise men who are 
afraid to meet girls? 
DR. RUTH: 1 tell them to open their eyes. I 
got a phone call from a student recently. 
He did not know how to meet girls. He 
was a computer student. 1 told him that 
when class began, he should find the 
most attractive girl there, to make sure һе 
got the computer next to her. I said, “You 
know how to get your computer to talk to 
her computer, don’t you?” 
PLAYBOY: What about the guys who havea 
fear of computers? 
DR. RUTH: I tell them to go to Blooming- 
dale's. To pretend they are shopping for 
their sister. To find a girl and ask her opin- 
ion on a certain sweater as a gift. 
PLAYBOY: You've also become a hit on the 
lecture circuit. What do you talk about? 
DR. RUTH: I do a combination of telling 
them about the radio and television show. 
I talk very seriously about some of the re- 
search findings of Masters and Johnson, of 


Helen Singer Kaplan. 1 give examples 
from my private practice of some of the 
things happening out there. I talk about 
the need for a sexually literate society. 
PLAYBOY: What is sexual literacy? 

DR. RUTH: Sexual literacy is really very 
comparable to reading, writing and arith- 
metic. It is a basic knowledge and under- 
standing of one’s own sexuality and 
human sexuality in general. 

PLAYBOY: Can you give us an example of a 
sexually literate person? 

DR. RUTH: A sexually literate mother is a 
mother who knows that there arc things 
called nocturnal emissions. She doesn’t 
scream at her son when he has spots on his 
sheets and stickiness in his pajamas. Sex- 
ual literacy is talking to a girl about men- 
struation before she menstruates, so that 
she doesn’t get scared about what is hap- 
pening to her body when it happens. We 
know that if a girl at camp has a nose- 
bleed, she goes to the nurse. But if she 
bleeds from dowm there, where she doesn’t 
expect any blood, she gets really scared. 
Something horrible is going to happen. 
PLAYBOY: What's a sexually literate father? 
DR. RUTH: Well, a sexually literate father 15 
one who knows that when he holds his 
daughter at a certain age on his lap and 
watches television with her, if a sexy com- 
mercial appears on TV or a sexy thought 
occurs to him, he might haye an erectile 
feeling. It doesn’t have to be a whole erec- 
tion, it can be just an erectile feeling. He 
doesn't have to be scared about it and 
push her away. This happens very often 
and he may not allow himself to touch her 
for the next ten years. 

PLAYBOY: Given the child-abuse scare, isn't 
it natural for a man these days to be self- 
conscious about his response? 

DR. RUTH: No, I’m saying that that is a nat- 
ural reaction to something that he thinks 
ог sees, and not simply because his daugh- 
ter is sitting on his lap. And because of the 
child-abuse scare, I am very concerned 
that fathers and grandfathers will not 
understand that their having that kind of 
erection is not related to their daughter. 
Let's stop with this scare. Let's tell people 
that there are some sick people out there, 
and they should take care. 

PLAYBOY: Our guess is that you didn’t hear 
about this situation from the man. 

DR. RUTH: Truc. 

PLAYBOY: And how did you explain to the 
daughter why her father had suddenly 
ig her affection? 

vill tell you what 1 told the 
girl. I said, “Do not be angry at your fa- 
ther. He reacted to the best of his knowl- 
edge, which meant he avoided touch. He 
was sexually illiterate. He did not have the 
chance to talk to me. He could have moved 
you to one knee. He could have said, 'Just 
а moment; you're hurting те?“ 

PLAYBOY: When is such a reaction not nor- 
mal? 

DR. RUTH: I would not want the man to take 
a bubble bath with his three-ycar-old 


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daughter апа have her touch him to рго- 
duce an erection. That is intentional. 
PLAYBOY: What do you think of Ann 
Landers’ famous survey of her women 
readers in which she found that most 
women would rather be hugged than per- 
form the sexual act? 
DR. RUTH: Someone called me and asked 
what I thought of that survey. I said it was 
dangerous. The question was badly 
phrased. It didn’t say, “Do you some- 
times—once a weck, once a month, once 
every other week—want to be held rather 
than do the act?” Now, the 90,000 people 
who answered prove only one thing: that 
Ann Landers is read by 90,000 people. 
The survey is dangerous, because it can 
get us back into the Victorian age. You 
remember what the Victorian mother told 
her daughter on the night of the wedding? 
“Lie back and think of England. There’s 
nothing in the sexual encounter for you. 
You have to survive it, because you need a 
husband to support you.” 
PLAYBOY: So you felt that the survey was 
misleading. Did you tell the caller that? 
DR. RUTH: Yes, and you know what hap- 
pened? The headline in the paper the next 
day read, “DR, RUTH: ANN LANDERS DANGER 
ous.” I called Ann Landers’ office and 
said, “I never said Ann Landers was dan- 
gerous. That would be like saying apple 
pie and motherhood are dangerous. The 
service she provides to readers is wonder- 
ful. This survey is dangerous.” Later, I 
went to Paris. I picked up a copy of Paris 
Match, which ran a story headlined, 
“AMERICAN WOMEN ARE FRIGID.” It cited the 
Ann Landers survey. 
PLAYBOY: Speaking of sex surveys, PLAYBOY 
did one a couple of years ago that found 
that the sexual revolution had a greater 
effect, in terms of liberation, on married 
sex than on single sex 
DR. RUTH: Don’t say married sex. Say rela- 
sex. 
: Ifyou insist. But how do you feel 
about sex that’s not part of a serious re- 
lationship—casual sex? 
DR. RUTH: I say that sometimes it might be 
absolutely delicious. For example, Burt 
Reynolds was on my show. He told me a 
story about meeting a woman in an airport 
before he was famous and how he and she 
looked at each other and decided on the 
spot to miss their plane and spend the time 
with each other—complete strangers. I 
saw а spark in his eye when he remem- 
bered that one night. He wondered if that 
woman ever watched his movies or 
watches him on TV. I would say that a 
one-night stand, properly executed— 
forget about the ones you do under the in- 
fluence of alcohol—can provide an erotic 
experience that will nourish the person for 
a long time. But in my experience, from 
the stories I hear, most one-night stands 
happen from drunkenness. The next 
morning, the person can’t remember how 
he got there or what they did. [Gestures 
emphatically] And if you can't remember 
it, that is nol good sex. 


PLAYBOY: We agree. We say. 
drunk to drive, don’t park. 
DR. RUTH: I like that! 
PLAYBOY: But we have more respect than 
you do for the urgency of teenage lust. You 
advise virgins to wait 
DR. RUTH: You want to know something 
yery inter-r-esting? I went to a cemetery in 
Switzerland last summer, and on some of 
the very old tombstones it said, HERE LIES 
SO-AND-SO, VIRGIN. And I wondered, How 
did they know? I discovered that in the 
Old Testament, you were considered a vir- 
gin until you were 124. When / tell a vir- 
gin to wait, I do so only if she calls me and 
tells me she is worried. Then I tell her, 
“Don’t give in to pressure." I think it is. 
lucky for us all that there is less of a price 
attached to virginity these days. 

PLAYBOY: How did Dr. Ruth lose her vir- 
ginity? 

DR. RUTH: [Beams] I knew that someplace 
in this interview was going to be buried 
this question. But I do remember. It was a 


“If you're too 


fantastic experience! In a haystack. In Is- 


rael. [She pauses, weighs her words] Oh, 
boy, let’s give it to them already. It hap- 
pened under a very clear, beautiful Isracli 
sky with a lot of stars, with stars that shine 
like that only in that country. With a guy I 
was ver-r-y much in love with. 

PLAYBOY: A passable evening. 

DR. RUTH: And I am still friends with the 
guy. I remember that haystack. And you 
can tell your readers that when I told you 
about it, I giggled. [Giggles] 

PLAYBOY: You've said that you later got 
pregnant with your daughter, Miriam, 
and only then legalized the affair by get- 
ting married. How could the queen of con- 
traception fall pregnant? 

DR. RUTH: How? At the time, I did not 
know that I was the queen of contracep- 
tion. I was living with the father, and I 
thought this was the man I was going to 
stay with. I wanted the child. Maybe if I 
had known I would someday be talking 
about contraception from morning to 
night, 1 would have legalized the affair 
fir-r-st! 

PLAYBOY: OK, straight from the hip: Are 
you in favor of premarital sex? 

DR. RUTH: Never would I say that. 1 would 
say that anybody who wants to remain a 
in—when I say virgin I mean boys 
and girls, young men, young women, older 
women—anybody who wants to remain a 
virgin until the night of the wedding 
should stick to it. But it doesn’t matter 
why people want to remain virgins. For 
whatever reason. But! Anybody who's 
engaged in premarital sex has an obliga- 
п to use what? 

PLAYBOY: Uh. The Chinese basket trick? 
No? OK, contraceptives? 

DR. RUTH: R-r-ight! 

PLAYBOY: What are your opinions on extra- 
marital sex? Cosmopolitan has run articles 
that tell women how an affair can improve 
their marriage. Do you agree? 

DR. RUTH: That's a catastrophe. But who is 
the first one to buy that paper? Mc. Be- 


cause I say to myself, My gosh, they're 
writing something I don't know. Maybe 
there is something that I don't know. 
PLAYBOY: So you condemn adultery? 

DR. RUTH: I do. I do. Because it is one of the 
Ten Commandments, I do not believe in 
open marriage. I don’t think it works. Is it 
inherent in human nature to be loyal and 
sexually attractive and sexually interested 
in the same partner for a lifetime? It is a 
question mark. I do not doubt that there is 
a desire to experiment and to make your 
sex life more varied, but that's a different 
story. 

PLAYBOY: We're listening. 

DR. RUTH: [f you have an affair, you have to 
take the risk of bringing home sexually 
transmitted disease. At the same time, I 
also say, if something does happen, you 
are at a convention or someplace and you 
do have sex with somebody else, keep your 
mouth shut. I do not believe in the Ameri- 
can ethic of telling all that has hap- 
pened—except in the case of a sexually 
transmitted disease, You have to recognize 
that there's lust. I say to somebody, “If 
you can have a spar-r-rkling affair safely, 
nobody will ever find out, do it. Have fun. 
At the same time, do know all of these 
other things that might happen and take 
precautions.” I think it’s really common 
sense. If one of you is expecting a phone 
call, do it in that person's hotel room. 1 
feel if you have an affair .. . look, I'm not 
a moralist. I wouldn't be able to do a pro- 
gram like I do and talk about sex all day 
long if I would be saying no. But let's sup- 
pose it does happen. Somebody has an af- 
fair. 1 do not believe you should have to 
tell your partner and ask her forgiveness. 
You only have to tell your partner if you're 
getting caught. Because nobody's going to 
forget. People forgive, but not forget. 
PLAYBOY: You seem to have a European 
attitude toward fooling around: You disap- 
prove of it officially but tolerate it unoffi- 
cially, as long as it's done discreetly. 

DR. RUTH: Do you think it is Europcan? 
Perhaps that explains why so many Ameri- 
cans listen to what I say. Or do you think 
they agree with it? 

PLAYBOY: Honesty has been one of the prin- 
ciples of America's sexual revolution. Do 
you think we carry it too far? 

DR. RUTH: Yes. 

PLAYBOY: Do you think a lover should tell 
the details of his or her past? 

DR. RUTH: For some crazy reason now, peo- 
ple have the idea that they must tell cach 
other everything, every detail of their past, 
every thought in their heads. This is not 
good sense. It isn't sensitive about the 
other person's feelings, Your lover doesn’t 
want to know some things you know about 
yourself And if you tell everybody every- 
thing, you will be sorry. You must realize 
that every person has private territory. 
PLAYBOY: Our advice might be to treat sex 
like ethnic dishes: Enjoy the flavor, but 
don’t insist on knowing what went into it. 
DR. RUTH: I like that! Can I use it? 


PLAYBOY: Sure, but the logic of your posi- 
tion leads to the conclusion that if people 
followed your advice and talked less about 
their sex lives, you would be out of a job. 
DR. RUTH: No, because my callers are 
anonymous. I never ask last names. And 
by the time your voice goes over the radio, 
no one can recognize you. So we have a 
kind of privacy. The radio show has cre- 
ated a community of listeners, people with 
the same interests. Sometimes they call up 
to give one another advice. 

PLAYBOY: You say lovers shouldn't share 
the details of their sexual pasts; what 
about their sexual fantasies? 

DR. RUTH: Unless you are sure that that fan- 
tasy will be eagerly accepted by your part- 
ner, keep your mouth shut. It’s a little bit 
like your affairs. At the first fight, it will be 
thrown at that other person’s head that he 
fantasized about the centerfold in PLAYBOY 
while he made love to her. Some people 
get off on spinning fantasies, but let me 
say, they should spin fantasies that will 
not offend or upset the other person. 
PLAYBOY: What if someone gets turned on 
by hearing the details of past love affairs? 
DR. RUTH: She should make up stories. 
Don't give the real details. 

PLAYBOY: You've mentioned the gains of 
the sexual revolution; where do you think 
it has failed? 

DR. RUTH: It ought to have produced a sex- 
ually literate society, but it didn’t. I don't 
think the sexual revolution did enough to 


get the message out about the need for and 
importance of contraception. I come back 
to you with a question. We have 1,500,000 
teenagers pregnant who don’t want to be 
pregnant. That’s why I always ask, “Are 
you using contraceptives?” I know I sound 
like a broken record, but until you answer 
that, you are not having good sex, respon- 
sible sex, 

PLAYBOY: There are some people—the 
Moral Majority, Phyllis Schlafly, Jerry 
Falwell—who believe that the sexual revo- 
lution only gave us license. The people 
who bomb Planned Parenthood centers, 
who are against sex education in the 
schools, believe that information about sex 
leads to sex. How do you answer them? 
DR. RUTH: I don't agree. People have always 
been sexually active. Maybe not as many 
at an early age, because we have more 
facilities; people are going to coed colleges. 
But I do believe that there is more knowl- 
edge. People will make up their own 
minds. They will not succumb to pressure. 
The ones who are sexually active would be 
sexually active with or without this knowl- 
edge. If you are against the 1,500,000 
unwanted pregnancies, you have to be in 
favor of contraceptives. And yet, these 
same people won’t allow condom ads on 
TV. We are a nation of hypocrites! 
PLAYBOY: Do you think Jerry Falwell has 
good sex? 

DR. RUTH: If Jerry Falwell has good sex or 
not, I don’t know. Let me put it another 


way: When I hear of a woman screeching, 
being unhappy, being miserable, I don't 
want people right away to say, “Aha! She 
didn’t get laid. All she needs is a good 
lay.” I would be very careful about saying 
that those people who are against sex edu- 
cation do not have good sex. Maybe they 
have excellent sex, but it fits into their 
political views to be against sex education. 
But if Jerry Falwell wants to meet with 
me, 1 would be willing—pr-r-ivately—to 
discuss his sex life. 
PLAYBOY: Have there been other failures of 
the sexual revolution? Are there pitfalls? 
DR. RUTH: There are pitfalls. If it is mis- 
used—if people start to think that to be 
sexually liberated must mean group sex, it 
must mean all kinds of touchy-feely semi- 
nars—then, yes, it does have pitfalls. If it 
means that the mother is supposed to 
come home with an encyclopedia of sexual 
knowledge and force that on her son or 
daughter when that child is not ready or 
not interested, then it has certain pitfalls. 
PLAYBOY: Are you saying permission is OK, 
as long as it doesn’t become pressure? 
DR. RUTH: Exactly. 
PLAYBOY: Can you give us an example of 
harmful pressure? 
DR, RUTH: All this emphasis on the G spot. 
The people who wrote about it are very 
angry with me, because I haven’t come out 
and endorsed the G spot. I see women in 
my private practice saying their husbands 
are lousy lovers because they can’t find the 


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С spot. They complain they аге not пог- 
mal. They have been trying to find it for 
two and a half months. So let me be the 
old-fashioned one. Surely, there would be 
some institution, some hospital, some 
university that would say, “We have done 
a study; the G spot exists.” 

PLAYBOY: Can you give us another example? 
DR. RUTH: The other night, a woman called 
in and said her husband wanted to try a 
threesome. She said, “1 am happily mar- 
ried. We have three children, 11 years 
married, and my husband would like a 
threesome." My first question was, "What 
would he like? Another woman or another 
man?” I new the answer to that. But I 
purposely asked that because I wanted 10 
hear from her. She said, “I’m not sure.” 
So I said that they should try a plastic 
doll. There are some inflatable dolls. Go 
out and buy one, It's a little bit of a joke, 
but it is also a way of first saving face. She 
can buy the doll, blow it up. The doll has a 
vagina. The doll has breasts. And she can 
say, “Look, honey, 1 bought you another 
woman.” Maybe that would bring about 
good laughter and a good sexual experi- 
ence. Maybe he is going to get the message 
that she really isn’t interested 

PLAYBOY: Our advice would have been to 
go for it, that the reality might not live up 
to either the fantasy or her fear. We'd have 
said, “Try it if you feel secure about the 
relationship and to satisfy your curiosity 
Curiosity is important to a growing sexual 
relationship, but satisfy it only if you for- 
give yourself ahead of time. At most, you 
may end up feeling silly or ridiculous.” 

DR. RUTH: [ don’t agree. I don’t think peo- 
ple will feel silly or ridiculous. I think they 
are going to feel very angry at the partner 
for subjecting them to a situation like that. 
I don't think that people will walk away 
and say, “Poof, poof, that was nothing.” 
PLAYBOY: Then perhaps we need anger 
education, not sex education. Are you 
against experimentation? 

DR. RUTH: No. There comes in my being 
old-fashioned and square and maybe a 
Jewish mother, because if a couple comes 
in and the husband wants to try a position 
and the wife doesn't, I say, “What is the 
big deal? Try it once, and if you don't like 
it, then you say no the next time.” But a 
third person is not the same as a position 
PLAYBOY: You scem to be saying that all sex 
is negotiation. Isn't that what you do in 
your counseling? 

DR. RUTH: Yes. 1 tell couples, “1 can't do 
sex therapy if the two of you are still angry 
at each other.” 

PLAYBOY: What sex advice did you give 
your children? 

DR. RUTH: 1 told Miriam where babies 
come from when she was five. Not with 
explicitness. I realized then that there was 
so much to learn. My philosophy is that 
parents should stay out of their adoles- 
cents’ sex life. It’s not their business. And 
adolescents should stay out of the parents’ 
sex life. What I mean by staying out is, I 


don't want a mother to ask her son, “Did 
you touch the girl’s breasts?” when he 
comes home. Or “Are you sexually satis- 
fied?” I would never ask my children a 
personal question, ever. But I was very 
fortunate. They are very open. We have 
had good discussions. 

PLAYBOY: You have no trouble talking to 
teenagers on the radio. Is it more difficult 
with your own children, face to face? 

DR. RUTH: When we talk about sex, it is 
very difficult. You just wait until you be- 
come a parent. It is very difficult for par- 
ents of adolescents not to be curious, 
because their own sexuality, their own sex- 
val force, is waning. The young people's is 
just at its height, and very strong, and I 
think there are a lot of problems there. 
PLAYBOY: What do you think of the quality 
of sex education in school: 
DR. RUTH: Terrible. They don’t put enough 
money into training teachers. There was a 
cartoon in The New Yorker that showed a 
fifth-grade teacher walking into a class- 
room, her hair tightly pulled back. She 
said, “Today I have been mandated by the 
Board of Education to talk about the birds 
and the bees and other filthy things.” And 
that teacher, don’t let her touch my child! 
Parents have to have a voice in what their 
children learn. 

PLAYBOY: You began your career as а 
teacher, didn’t you? 

DR. RUTH: Yes. I was an associate professor 
at Brooklyn College. Every day, I would 
drive out in my little Toyota. I loved that 
car, because my hands could reach the 
steering wheel and my feet the pedals at 
the same time. But I was teaching a course 
in how to teach education in high 
schools, and I was fired. I went to arbitra- 
tion. І had two children to support. 1 lost 
the arbitration. I was told that it was а 
political football, that they couldn't let me 
win, because then it would open the flood- 
gates for a lot of other cases of people who. 
were unjustly let go. But a few weeks after 
I was fired, WYNY offered me 15 minutes 
of radio air time on Sunday night. 
PLAYBOY: And the rest is history. 

DR. RUTH: If I had won my arbitration, 1 
would now be a little full professor at 
Brooklyn College. Those people did me 
the biggest favor. 1 now have the whole 
world as my classroom. [Laughs] But only 
in New York could something like this 
happen, what happened to me. I drink to 
Mayor Koch's health. 

PLAYBOY: Didn't you recently appear with 
him in public? 

DR. RUTH: Yes. I was inyited to a dinner 
where Mayor Koch took on journalists. 
There was a skit. The mayor got caten by 
this huge plant. I came out and performed 
the “Westheimer mancuver.” A deep 
black voice said, “More! More!” so I kept 
tickling the plant, and I guess it had an 
orgasm and spit out the mayor. I love it! 
PLAYBOY: With everything you've lent your 
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PLAYBOY 


unto yourself. What's next, a Dr. Ruth 
float in the Thanksgiving parade? 

DR. RUTH; No. I would not allow it. And I 
won't allow bookstores to put up card- 
board Dr. Ruths to promote a book. 
PLAYBOY: Will there be a Dr. Ruth movie? 
DR. RUTH: Somconc has approached mc. I 
said no. I did not want to sit down and 
answer questions, though I am talking 
here to you. 1 did not want to be psychoan- 
alyzed. It hit me wrong. 1 mean, some- 
body else is going to play me? 

PLAYBOY: Whom would you cast in your 
movie? Whom do you find sexy? 

DR. RUTH: Burt Reynolds. He's such a good 
kisser. Gérard Depardieu. He's a good 
hugger. Zubin Mehta. When he conducts, 
I feel he is making love to the orchestra. 
Look, I'm going to tell you something 
per-r-rsonal, and you have to publish it. 
PLAYBOY: Well. . . . 

DR. RUTH: I want your wife to realize that 
I'm a married woman and I have no inten- 
tions on you, but | want you to know 
something. You are a very sexy man. 
PLAYBOY: Gee, thanks. We bet you say that 
to all your interviewers. 

DR. RUTH: It’s called co-opting. [Giggles] 
Now, where were we? 

PLAYBOY: Let’s talk about some of the sex- 
ual myths we both encounter over and 
over. What are they? 

DR. RUTH: The most dangerous myths are 
about contraception. If you don’t have an 
orgasm, you are not going to get pregnant. 
If you douche with a soft drink, you won't 
get pregnant. If you do it standing up, you 
won't get pregnant. You can't get preg- 
nant the first time you have sex. Ifyou pull 
ош, you won't get pregnant. 

PLAYBOY: Germaine Greer wrote a book on 
the history of fertility. She suggests that 
coitus interruptus— pulling out—is a good 
method. Do you believe her? 

DR. RUTH: [t is a fantastic book, an intel- 
lectual history of fertility. Then she says, 
on page whatever, that coitus interruplus 
has been practiced across the world for 
many centuries. "That is true. Then she 
says it is a perfect method of contracep- 
tion. She says there are no spermatozoa in 
the pre-ejaculatory fluid. She is wrong, 
and I am worried. I am worried that peo- 
ple are going to say, “Look at Germaine 


Greer. She is a famous intellectual, yet she 
says, “Pull ош.” All it takes is one 
sperm. 


PLAYBOY: One very fast sperm. Any other. 
myths? 

DR. RUTH: Penis size. I don't know why in 
our society it is such a tremendous con- 
cern. Maybe when little boys see their fa- 
thers in the shower, they sec a big penis 
and they think, I will never have that. One 
thing I do suggest is, I tell a man to have 
an erection and to stand in front of a full- 
length mirror, because maybe the per- 
spective is different then from when he 
looks down. I suggested that once on tele- 
vision, and my floor manager, Dean, fell to 
the floor laughing. But there are incredible 
myths about penises, believed by women, 


not just by men. You know the other 
myths: Can you tell the size of a penis by 
the nose, by the thumb, by the big toe? 
PLAYBOY: Dr. Ruth, about your fixation оп 
big toe: . Oh, never mind. In First 
Love, you suggest that women keep a fan- 
tasy journal in which they write about 
being sought by men who will “swim 
mountains and climb rivers” for them 
Doesn't that create false expectations? 

DR, RUTH: Climb rivers and swim moun- 
tains. What's wrong with that? 
PLAYBOY: Well, to be practical about 
how can a guy climb rivers and swim 
mountains and still get an erection? Isn't 
that performance pressure epitomized? 
DR. RUTH: Have the erection fir-r-rst! 
PLAYBOY: Have you ever tried to run with 
an erection? 

DR. RUTH: Seriously, I understand what 
you mean. I think fantasy is important 
and needed, but one has to learn what is 
fantasy and what is reality. As long as a 
woman knows that dreaming about Prince 
Charming coming on the white horse is 
only for arousal, she can’t be unhappy that 
it didn't really happen. 

PLAYBOY: Arc men better at fantasy than 
women? 

DR. RUTH: I don’t think that men have in- 
herently better fantasies than women. 1 
think it’s just education. Women don’t 
permit themselves to have fantasies, to 
think about another man making love to 
them. We were constrained growing up. 
We think of ourselves as a mother, a wife, 
not a mistress. I think men have been per- 
ей to let their eyes wander—to look at 
women, to let their behinds arouse them. 
Women have not been permitted to do 
that. Women have been sitting there with 
their eyes closed, like this. 

PLAYBOY: Why do many women have trou- 
ble reaching orgasm? 

DR. RUTH: Some women have an investment 
in not letting go, in not losing conscious- 
ness even for that split second. There are 
women who are so scared of having that 
feeling of powerlessness. In general, 1 
think most women are capable of having 
an orgasm—not during intercourse, neces- 
sarily, but having an orgasm in response to 
proper stimulation, either by themselves 
or by a partner. So it’s about both things. 
One is the woman's psychological make- 
up, the other is some technique of stimula- 
tion. I tell people to read р.лувох, Nancy 
Friday's books—Men in Love, My Secret 
Garden, Forbidden Flowers. I say use 
explicit material to spin off your own fan- 
tasies. I do believe that for some people, 
this is precious and necessary. 

PLAYBOY: In your book, you suggest that a 
woman light a candle, put on soft mus 
get into a tub, maybe even with a glass of 
wine, and spend an hour or two pleasuring 
herself, Is that accurate? 

DR. RUTH: That is right, First to teach her- 
self how to have an orgasm in order to 
teach him. 

PLAYBOY: Doesn't that just link romance to 
masturbation? For guys, masturbation is a 


lot simpler: It teaches them eye/hand co- 
ordination; it gets their hearts started in 
the morning. 

DR. RUTH: You're being realistic. I'm talk- 
ing about fantasy. I tell you why fantasy is 
important to a woman: If she doesn’t fill 
her head with fantasies, then she is going 
to be a spectator. Then she is going to be 
watching herself with anticipatory anxiety, 
saying, “I am never going to come, never 
going to come.” Then you can be sure that 
she is not going to come. The reason that I 
am suggesting candles and music is to put 
her mind on something else. So I tell 
women, “Think about Burt Reynolds. 
Think about Prince Charming.” 

PLAYBOY: In your books, you describe 
orgasm as a reflex, something akin to a 
sneeze. We place more value on it than 
that. No one ever asks a person who 
sneezes. “Did the earth move for you?” 
DR. RUTH: I like that! 

PLAYBOY: But you also say orgasms should 
not be a “salary.” What do you mean? 
DR. RUTH: Sometimes, people just work 
toward the orgasm. They don’t enjoy the 
foreplay. They don't enjoy the plateau. I 
say, “Enjoy the build-up. Don’t just work 
for an orgasm.” But sometimes 1 see 
women who are educated, who are in busi- 
ness, who are in the arts, who do not have 
orgasms, And that’s in 1985, with all of the 
literature available. 

PLAYBOY: What do you say when two part- 
ners have unequal levels of desire? 

DR. RUTH: I say, “Do you two always have 
the same appetite? Or do you sometimes 
want a steak and you just want an egg- 
salad sandwich?” It is nice if they turn 
each other on, and a simultaneous sexual 
experience is wonderful, but where is it 
written that it has to be like that? Why 
can't he satisfy her without having an erec- 
tion, without feeling sexually aroused? 
And the same for her. The main thing is 
not to be frustrated. If the man wants sex 
and she doesn’t, she should just pleasure 
him. 

PLAYBOY: Have you ever met a man who 
could just passively receive pleasure? 

DR. RUTH: It’s very difficult for an Ameri- 
can male to lie back passively and be 
stroked and pleasured to orgasm, but 1 
certainly do advise it. Men sometimes get 
very scared when their nipples get erect. 
They think that something is wrong, that 
they are homosexual. For an American 
male who has been trained to constantly 
be the assertive one, it is very difficult to lie 
back, but that is what I do teach. 
PLAYBOY: What do you say to a man who 
reaches orgasm before his partner? 

DR. RUTH: Use afterplay. Most people don't 
use the afterplay, because they don't know 
that the sexual-arousal curve for women is 
slower. I say, “Use afterplay." The woman 
complains that he falls asleep; that is just a 
bad habit. He can sit up and be awake or 
ich himself or take a needle into bed and 
prick himself—not her but himself. The 
afierplay, properly executed, is going to 
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PLAYBOY 


7 


even if that is a week later. 

PLAYBOY: Earlier, you said you don't speak 
about yourself, but that's not fair. You 
agreed to the interview, and that means 
personal background. 

DR. RUTH: So ask! [Huge grin] 

PLAYBOY: You seem to be the product of 
several societies. You were a German for 
the first ten years of your life, a Swiss until 
you were 16, an Israeli until you were 21, а 
Frenchwoman for the next five, and then 
an American. What nationality were you 
when you learned about sex? 

DR. RUTH: I remember that I must have 
learned about sex before the age of ten. 1 
was an only child. My parents lived їп 
Frankfurt am Main. 1 remember that 1 
was always very short, that I climbed on a 
chair. I knew where the key to the book 
cabinet was, and in that cabinet was a 
book on sex. That I do remember. I don't 
remember which book it was. It must have 
been one my parents liked. This was 1938, 
so perhaps it was Van De Velde's Marriage 
Art. 

PLAYBOY: What is your next memory? 

DR. RUTH: That very same year, all of the 
Jewish men in Frankfurt am Main were 
rounded up and put into concentration 
camps. There was a conference that Roo- 
sevelt and other people attended, to see if 
they could save German Jewry. Out of that 
conference came the cry "Let's at least 
save the children.” So 300 children were 
taken by England, 300 by France; the 
remaining ones went to Switzerland. You 
had to either be an orphan or have one 
parent in a concentration camp. By 
chance, there must have been space on 
that list. I don’t know how I got on that 
list. I was sent to Switzerland. I didn’t 
want to go. [ was home with my mother 
and my grandmother, also my mother's 
parents. Everybody loved me, and I didn't 
want to go on a trip like that. But they said 
Thad to go in order to get my father out of 
the concentration camp. 

PLAYBOY: What was the departure like? 

DR. RUTH: It was a rainy Monday moming. 
We thought we could see our parents 
within six months, because that’s what we 
were told. We were told our parents would 
have time to get their papers in order, to 
emigrate to Palestine, the United States, 
any country that would take them. Then 
the war broke out in 1939, and almost all 
of the 100 children who left on that train 
together became orphans, The last time I 
saw my mother and my grandmother was 
at the railroad station. I still have troubles 
at railroad stations. You know how much I 
travel. I don't like to see people separated. 
It makes me sad. . . . Not sad to the point 
that I can’t talk about orgasms. [Giggles] 
PLAYBOY: What was the orphanage like? 
OR. RUTH: There was a dorm for boys and a 
dorm for girls. 1 was also very interested in 
boys, very early. You could go out on the 
roof in the snow and knock on the boys’ 
window, which of course I did. The win- 
dow broke, someone snitched on me, and 
one of the directresses took a paddle to my 


behind. I do remember that it was I who 
told many of the other girls about men- 
struation. That 1 do remember. Why? I 
don't know. Maybe it was just because I 
took it upon myself to be a big leader. 
PLAYBOY: Did you have a boyfriend? 

DR. RUTH: Thank God I had a boyfriend 
there. He helped me a great deal. He made 
life easier. First of all, he sneaked into my 
bed. It was just hugging and kissing, but it 
was very nice. By that time, I was 13. I 
thought we would get married. 

PLAYBOY: How did he make life easier? 

DR. RUTH: Because he was a boy, he was 
permitted to go to school. I was not. All of 
the girls were taught by one teacher for 40 
children of different ages. It was a catas- 
trophe. But my boyfriend brought the 
books home. Every night he came to hug 
and kiss, he also brought a book. We were 
not permitted lights in the rooms. When 
he fell asleep—under the bed or under the 
covers—I took the book and went out on 
the staircase to read. 

PLAYBOY: We see where sex, books and 
advice might come together for you. After 
the war, you moved to Israel. What was 
life on the kibbutz like? 

DR. RUTH: [t was a different life, not a bour- 
gcois life. I stayed in a tent with three 
young men. I thought that was great. Me 
and three guys. I didn’t sleep with them 
There was a philosophy of not separating 
young men from young women. 

PLAYBOY: Americans have a romanticized 
view of life on the kibbutz. Was it at all like 
Sal Mineo and Jill Haworth in Exodus? 
DR. RUTH: Some of the left wing tried a little 
bit of free love. First of all, it doesn’t worl 
It just does not, because there's jealousy, 
and then there's possessiveness. Interest- 
ingly, they tried to have children shower 
together until the age of 18. They wanted 
to instill that cquality, the idea that there 
is nothing wrong with your body. It didn’t 
work, As soon as the girls started to 
develop pubic hair, breasts, the secondary 
sexual characteristics, it changed. Six girls 
would go into the shower and leave a sev- 
enth at the door to watch, so no boys 
would come in. Maybe in the Western 
culture, there's something inherent. In 
Hebrew, it's called tzniut. 15 modesty. 
PLAYBOY: And the boys? 

DR. RUTH: The boys didn't want girls in 
there, cither. You know that kids in this 
country who go to nudist camps with their. 
parents, who grow up in nudist camps— 
when they reach puberty, they do not 
want to go to nudist camps. 

PLAYBOY: How deep does this modesty go? 
Would you ever have posed for PLayBoY? 
DR. RUTH: No. 

PLAYBOY: Would you let your daughter 
pose for rraynoy? 

DR. RUTH: Let me say, I would be pro- 
foundly disappointed and upset 

PLAYBOY: Why? 

DR. RUTH: | am a hypocrite. When you have 
a daughter, you'll be a hypocrite, too. 
PLAYBOY: You forget we know these girls. If 


our daughter grew up to be like one of our 
centerfolds, terrific. If she grew up to be 
like Phyllis Schlafly or Squeaky Fromme, 
then we'd be upset. What did you do on 
the kibbutz? 

DR. RUTH: For one year, 1 picked tomatoes 
and olives, because I was so short. Alter 
that year, I didn’t want to see a tomato 
again. I was very idealistic I believed 
Jews needed a country of their own. I still 
believe that. But I also believed that the 
Jews didn't need intellectuals, that they 
needed people to work the ground. So 1 
did that for a year. I was very bored. 1 
said, “I cannot do this for a lifetime.” 
I needed to learn something. I studied 
Hebrew. 

PLAYBOY: You were torn from a traditional 
family and spent your formative years liv- 
ing in one collective or another. Does some 
of your compassion come from that? 

DR. RUTH: So you ask where the sensitivity 
comes from. From the age of ten, I was on 
my own—not only on my own but always 
having to help the others. The home was 
set up in such a way that I was responsible 
for the six-ycar-olds. I already had to play 
the role not of mother but certainly of. 
older sister to a six-year-old. He’s now a 
professional in Haifa. I still talk with him. 
But maybe a little bit of compassion, of 
interest in others, came from that expe- 
rience. Because 1 didn't grow up just їп a 
nucleus with the family, mother, father 
me. I grew up in a children’s home. 
Not always a happy children’s home. 
PLAYBOY: Did you fight in the war for Is- 
racli independence? 

DR. RUTH: I was a member of the Haganah; 
that is the underground. That was before 
the Isracli army, in 1948. I know how to 
throw hand grenades. I can puta Sten gun 
together in the dark. 

PLAYBOY: Now we find out what Dr. Ruth 
does by herself in the dark. 

DR. RUTH: Watch it. If this interview does 
not tum out nice, I can put five bullets 
into the red—you know, the red thing? 
PLAYBOY: The bull’s-eye? We'll watch it. 
DR. RUTH: In June 1948, I was wounded. It 
was my 20th birthday. 1 had just been 
en a book. I came back that morning 
from being on the roofs. There was a barri- 
cade; we had to stop the cars. I said, "I am 
not going to sit down and be in that shelter 
again and waste time." І went upstairs to 
k up that book. As I passed through the 
hall, some shrapnel nearly took off my 
legs. I was very lucky. I could have ended 
up without two fect. I would have been 
shorter than I already am. The doctor did 
a good job. I can still ski and water-ski 
PLAYBOY: Did vou fall in love with him? 
DR. RUTH: No, the male nurse. I still smile 
a I think of him. There was a shortage 
of beds, so they put me in a shelter that 
used to be the cloister. They put me on a 
shelf in the library. I made believe there 
was something wrong with my hands, that 
1 couldn't eat. Hc would fecd me. The 
height of my happiness was during а 


whe 


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by Ray Charles 


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j Ilook with my ears. 

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beginning, video has 
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Then along comes 
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And suddenly, my ears get 
very happy. 

The sound of LaserDisc 
is as good as anything I ever 
heard on my stereo. 

Maybe better. 

And while I was impressed with the sound, the video experts were 
floored by the picture. They tell me nothing else even comes close. 

Maybe you've already got a stereo, and maybe you've already got a 
VCR. You've still got to get LaserDisc. Because whatever you're watch- 
ing — music or movies — LaserDisc does 
what no other system can do. For the first 
time, it brings the best picture and the 
best sound WE 


The model shown here is the Pioneer" CLD-900 The worlds 


Vision and CD player. 


() PIONEER 
Video for those 
who really care about audio. 


Prices start at $299 su 


PLAYBOY 


cease-fire. He took me down off the shelfin 
his arms and took me out to a tree in the 
garden and read to me. Of course, I fell 
madly in love with that male nurse. 
PLAYBOY: Did the kibbutz allow romance? 
DR. RUTH: The social pressure in the kib- 
butz was tremendous. In that free society, 
what was free? If you were seen two weeks 
ina row with a girl, there was pressure on; 
say, "Do the two of you want a room?" 
Once you had a room, forget it. 

PLAYBOY: Werc you happy on thc kibbutz? 
DR. RUTH: I was so short. In my diary, it 
says, "I'm so ugly and so short, nobody's 
going to ever love me.” [Laughs] Look at 
me now. 

PLAYBOY: Did vou learn to talk about sex 
on the kibbutz? 

DR. RUTH: 1 don't think so. 1 was rather 
uptight. I don't remember a conversation 
about it at all. I married the first guy who 
offered to marry me. He went to study 
medicine in Paris. I worked very hard. I 
was the director of a kindergarten. I went 
to the Sorbonne to study psychology. The 
first marriage didn’t last. It was scrubbed 
for lack of interest. Maybe it was Paris. 
The city was very exciting. There was talk- 
ing in the coffechouses. There was the 
Comédie Française. I was in a town where 
Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir 
were sitting in a coffechouse. We were so 
poor, we had to share a cup of coffee. I 
might have gone once to the Folies- 
Bergère. Somebody took me. I remember 
the shock to see it and watch those women. 
They told me they were prostitutes. I was 
yery shocked, But we didn’t talk about 
sex. I had an affair with a fantastic 
Frenchman—Miriam’s father—and legal- 
izcd that. Shortly afterward, we moved to 
America, but we divorced. There were 
intellectual differences. I kept Miriam and 
gave him the car. I met Fred on a ski trip. 
He was the only person on the slope as 
short as 1 was. We rode the T-bar to- 
gether. We've been married for 24 years. 
PLAYBOY: What does Fred think today of all 
this celebrity and attention? 

DR. RUTH: Luckily, we had been married 
for many years before all this happencd. 
Also luckily, he is a professional with a job 
that he loves. He's an engineer in telecom- 
munications. So what I think is happening 
at this latest stage in his life is that it’s 
rather amusing and interesting and very, 
very unexpected. 

PLAYBOY: Do his friends know that he is 
Mr. Dr. Ruth? 

DR. RUTH: Yes, and of course they tease him 
a little bit. “You must have very good 
sex!” He has a famous response: He says 
the shoemaker’s children don’t have shoes. 
I don't let him go to апу of my lectures, be- 
cause when he used to, he would wait until 
I asked for questions at the end of a lecture 
and raise his hand, and he would say to 
everybody in that assembly, “Don’t listen 
to her. It’s all talk.” 

PLAYBOY: When did you first hear the 


words clitoris and orgasm said out loud? 
DR. RUTH: Here in America. I was hired as 
a director of a Planned Parenthood project 
in Harlem. In the beginning, I thought, 
These people are crazy, because they talk 
only about sex. I said, “Hey, let me out- 
side. Talk about something—economics, 
philosophy, literature.” 

PLAYBOY: Did your experience at Planned 
Parenthood affect any of your ideas? How 
do you feel about abortion? 

DR. RUTH: I tell people that there can be no 
law against abortion. I remember when 
only wealthy women could have abortions. 
They would fly to Sweden. If you were 
poor, you had to go to the closet abortion- 
ists or use coat hangers. I don't want to see 
that again. 

PLAYBOY: Why did you decide to study sex? 
DR. RUTH: I was teaching at the university. 
1 realized that I didn’t know enough. I was 
teaching through the department of educa- 
tion, how to teach sex education from kin- 
dergarten through grade 12. 1 realized 
that people were asking all kinds of ques- 
tions. I decided that I was going to be a 
sex therapist as well as a sex educator, so I 
shopped around. I saw Helen Singer Kap- 
lan at a lecture and it clicked. I studied 
with her for two years, twice a week. 
PLAYBOY: Where did you get your clinical 
experience? 

DR. RUTH: Charles Silverstein, the one who 
wrote Joy of Gay Sex and Family Matters, 
saw me at a seminar and said, “Look, if 
you want to volunteer your time at the 
Institute for Human Identity”—that’s a 
counseling service for homosexuals and 
bisexuals—“we will give you supervi- 
sion.” I said, “Great.” He said, “You have 
to be supervised by a lesbian in order to 
learn about the lifestyle.” There 1 had a 
few nightmares, because I said, “Му 
gosh.” | was very naive. I didn't know 
anything. I thought they were going all 
over New York City to find a lesbian with a 
whip and boots to train me. 

PLAYBOY: When fame and fortune hit, what 
was the first thing you bought? 

DR. RUTH: I took my entire family to Utah 
for a weck of skiing. Then I bought Fred a 
day sailer. But tell me, how is it that you 
don't ask me how much I make? You are 
the first interviewer who hasn't. 

PLAYBOY: It would only make us sad. 

DR. RUTH: [Laughs] Well, I never talk about 
money. And I won't tell you the names of 
my lovers. 

PLAYBOY: How do you explain your fame? 
DR. RUTH: I have a very good friend. He 
says, “Hey, you are really good. But let's 
face it, if there weren't such a need in our 
society for such a program, you could be 
as good as you would want to be and you 
wouldn’t be on the air.” The reason for my 
being successful is that I’m well trained. I 
have guts. I’m willing to speak directly 
and not around the issues. And there’s a 
need in our society. I was at the right place 
at the right time. 1 don't have any false 


modesty. 1 knew how to take an oppor- 
tunity when it was presented to me—with 
two hands. Small hands, but it's two 
hands, with a firm grip. 
PLAYBOY: You аге a regular on Late Night 
with David Letterman, We have to ask: 
What is David Letterman like? And is he 
really nervous about sex? 
DR. RUTH: A little bit. But I don't know 
what David Letterman is really like, even 
all my expertise as a very good ther- 
apist. He's polite. He always thanks me 
when I come on his show. But I have never 
had a conversation with him. During the 
commercials, I cannot talk with him, be- 
cause Paul Shaffer's music is so loud. I’ve 
given up. I don't hear myself, I don’t hear 
him. David certainly has done me a tre- 
mendous favor, because I think that by my 
being on his show, that's how I got to be 
known on the college campuses. But with 
David, 1 think a little bit he plays that he 
can’t say the words I mention, and a little 
bit I think he really is embarrassed. 
PLAYBOY: For all the fun you have talking. 
about things explicitly, do you think there 
are people who tune in to your show 
because they actually find it prurient? 
DR. RUTH: When I talk on TV or my radio 
show, it docs provide stimulation—intel- 
lectual and also maybe sometimes 
sexual—for those who listen. I say that if 
people get aroused by watching The Good 
Sex Program or by playing The Good Scx 
Game or by listening to Sexually Speaking, 
and then have a good sex experience with 
their spouses, I think that is ter-r-r-rific 
But I tell them not to do it during the 
show, because that might lower the rat- 
ings! 
PLAYBOY: OK, but aren't you playing into 
the hands of critics who find that any sex- 
ual information is bad and should be 
stamped out, because it is arousing? 
DR. RUTH: I would hope that the show turns 
people’s brains on—to put some candles 
on the dinner table, have some cham- 
pagne. Maybe they hear about some posi- 
tion that they would like to try. If that 
show turns them on, a sexually active cou- 
ple, just exactly like the pravoy reader 
might file away an idea that becomes a 
sexual turn-on, then you—the Playboy 
Advisor—and 1 are doing a service. 
PLAYBOY: How will history view Dr. Ruth? 
DR. RUTH: Let me tell you. That cemetery I 
visited in Switzerland, where they had 
tombstones from the 15th Century, some 
with the word viroin on them, others say- 
lig, MRS. SO-AND-SO WAS A GOOD HOUSEWIFE? It 
will never say that on mine. [Giggles] 
Never! Hopefully it will say that 1 helped 
alleviate some unnecessary suffering 
because of sexual ignorance and helped 
people become more aware of- 
PLAYBOY and DR. RUTH: Contraception! 
DR. RUTH: Ter-r-r-rific! We are a great 
team, yes? 

E 


1007 NEUTRAL SPIRITS DISTILLED N o NCO UD LINDEN.NA 51984 GORDONSDRY GN COLID 


By GARRI 


fiction 


. GARCÍA MARQU 


7 


MISS FORBES S- SUMMIER. 
*SIF-HAPPINESS > 


soon we discovered that the stern governess led by night the 
sort of single woman's existence that she condemned by day 


‘THAT AFTERNOON when we got home, we 
found an enormous sea serpent nailed by 
its neck to the doorframe. It was black and 
phosphorescent and, with its still-living 
eyes and saw-toothed, wide-open jaws, it 
looked like a gypsy curse. I was nine at the 
time, and so intense was my terror at the 
apparition that I lost my voice. My 
brother, who was two years younger than 
I, dropped the oxygen tanks, the masks 
and the fins and ran off screami Miss 
Forbes heard him from the twisting stone 
stairway that wound up the rocks from the 
dock to the house. When she reached us, 
she was pale and gasping for breath; but as 
soon as she saw the creature crucified on 
the door, she knew the cause of our horror. 
She always said that two children together 
are both to blame for what each does sepa- 
rately, so she reprimanded the two of us 
for my brother's shouts and went on scold- 
ing us for our lack of self-control. She 
spoke in German, not in the English her 
contract as governess called for, perhaps 
because she was frightened, too, and didn't 
want to admi However, as soon as she 
regained her breath, she switched to her 
stony English and pedagogical obsession 
“It’s а Muraena helena,” she told us 


“So named because it was a sacred animal 
to the ancient Grecks.” 

Oreste, the local fellow who was teach- 
ing us how to swim underwater, suddenly 
appeared from behind some caper bushes. 
His diving mask was pushed up on his 
forehead, and he wore abbreviated swim- 
ming trunks and a leather belt with six 
knives of various sizes and shapes, for he 
knew no other way of bunting underwater 
than fighting the animals hand to hand. 
He was 20 years old, spent more time in 
the depths of the sea than on dry land and 
looked like a sea creature himself, with his 
body always oiled with motor grease. 
When she first saw him, Miss Forbes had 
told my parents that it was impossible to 
conceive of a more beautiful human being, 
but his beauty didn’t spare him from her 
sternness: He, too, got a scolding, in Ital- 
ian, for having hung the moray on the door 
without any possible motive other than 
that of frightening the children. Then Miss 
Forbes ordered him to take it down, cau- 
tioning him to give it the respect due a 
mythological creature, and sent us off to 
dress for dinner. 

We did so immediately and tried not to 
make a single mistake, for after two weeks 


ILLUSTRATION BY MEL ODOM 


under the regime of Miss Forbes, we had 
learned that nothing is more difficult than 
day-to-day life. While we showered in the 
bathroom, in semidarkness, I noticed that 
my brother was still thinking about the 
moray. “It had people eyes,” he said. I 
agreed, though I pretended 1 didn't, and 
managed to change the subject. But when 
I got out of the shower, he asked me to 
wait for him. 

“It’s still daylight out,” I told him. 

1 opened the curtains. It was mid- 
August, and through the window you 
could see the burning lunar plain all the 
way to the other end of the island. The sun 
5 suspended in the sky. 

t's not because of that,” said my broth- 
er. “It’s that I’m afraid to be afraid.” 

Nevertheless, when we got to the table, 
he seemed calm, and he had dressed and 
combed himself so carefully that Miss 
Forbes congratulated him and gave him 
two extra points for good conduct. I, on 
the other hand, lost two of the five Pd 
earned that week, because at the last min- 
ше, I'd rushed and arrived in the dining 
room out of breath. Each 50 points would 
give us the right to a double portion of des- 
sert, but neither of us had managed to get 


PLAYBOY 


beyond 15. It was too bad. because never 
would we come across more delicious 
puddings than those made by Miss Forbes. 

Before starting dinner, we'd say grace 
standing over the empty plates. Miss 
Forbes wasn’t Catholic. but her contract 
stipulated that she was to have us pray six 
times a day: She had learned our prayers 
in order to comply. Then the three of us 
would sit down, we boys holding our 
breath while she inspected the most infini- 
tesimal details of our comportment, and 
only when everything seemed perfect would 
she ring the little bell. Then Fulvia Fla- 
minea, the cook, would enter with the eter- 
nal noodle soup of that hateful summer, 

At the beginning, when we were alone 
with our parents, meals had been like par- 
ties. Fulvia Flaminea would serve us, 
cackling around the table with an inspired 
disorder that made life happy, and then 
she'd sit down with us to eat a little from 
everyone’s plate. But ever since Miss 
Forbes had taken charge of our destiny, 
Fulvia Flaminea served us in such dark 
silence that we could hear the bubbling of 
the still-boiling soup in the pot. We atc 
with our spines pressed stiff against the 
backs of the chairs, chewing ten times on 
one side and ten on the other, without tak- 
ing our eyes off the rigid specter of that 
languid and stately lady while she recited 
from memory a lesson in manners. It was 
just like Sunday Mass but without the con- 
solation of people singing. 

The day we found the moray hanging on 
the door, Miss Forbes spoke to us of our 
duties to our country. After the soup, Ful- 
Flaminea, practically floating on the 
sound of the sonorously droning voice, 
served us a charcoal-grilled fillet of snowy- 
white meat with an exquisite smell. I pre- 
ferred fish to any other dish on earth or in 
heaven, and that reminder of our house in 
Guagamayal brought relief to my heart 
But my brother pushed his plate away 
without trying it. 

“I don't like it," he said. 

Miss Forbes interrupted her lesson. 

“How can you tell,” she said, “if you 
haven't even tasted it?” 

She gave the cook a lock of warning, but 
it was 100 late. 

“Могау is the most delicious fish in the 
world, figlio mio,” Fulvia Flaminea told 
him. “Try it and you'll see.” 

Miss Forbes didn't change her expres- 
sion. She told us in her severe way that 
moray had been the food of kings in antiq- 
uity and that warriors had fought over its 
liver because it gave them supernatural 
courage. Then she repeated, as she had so 
many times in such a short while, that 
good taste was not a faculty one was born 
with, that it couldn’t be taught at any age 
but had to be imposed from childhoo 
there was no valid reason for not eating. I, 
who had tasted the moray before knowing 
what it was, was in a quandary: It had a 
smooth taste, though a little melancholy, 


but the image of the serpent nailed to the 
doorframe was more urgent than my appe- 
tite. My brother made a supreme effort 
with the first mouthful, but he couldn't 
stand it: He vomited. 

“Go to the bathroom,” Miss Forbes told 
him implacably. “Wash thoroughly and 
come back to eat.” 

I was full of anguish for „ because 1 
knew how hard it was for him to go 
through the entire house, now darkening 
with nightfall, to stay alone in the bath- 
room for the time it took to wash himself. 
But he came back quickly in another clean 
shirt, pale, his inner trembling scarcely 
noticeahle, and he stood up quite well 
under the stern inspection of his cleanli- 
ness. Then Miss Forbes carved ofa piece 
of the moray and gave the order to con- 
tinue. I took a second bite with great di 
culty. My brother, on the other hand, 
didn’t even pick up his knife and fork. 

“Tm not going to eat it,” i 

His determination was so obvious that 
Miss Forbes let it pass. 

All right,” she said, “but you won't get 
any dessert.” 

My brother’s relief inspired me with his 
valor. I crossed my knife and fork over the 
plate, as Miss Forbes had taught us we should 
do when we were finished, and sai 

“I won't have any dessert, either.” 

“Nor will you watch any television,” 
she replied. 

“And we won't watch any television, 
said. 

Miss Forbes laid her napkin on the table 
and the three of us stood up to pray. Then 
she sent us to bed with the warning that 
we had until she finished eating to fall 
asleep. All our points for good behavior 
were annulled, and only when we'd earned 
20 more could we enjoy her cream puffs, 
her vanilla tarts and her exquisite cherry 
cake again. 

Sooner or later, we had to reach our 
breaking point. For an entire year, we'd 
been anxiously waiting for our carefree 
summer on the island of Pantelleria, south 
of Sicily, and the anticipated joy had been 
a reality for the first month, when our par- 
ents were with us. I can still recall, as if 
dreaming, the lunar plain of volcanic 
rocks, the eternal sea, the house, brightly 
whitewashed down to its brick frills, from 
whose windows on windless nights you 
could see revolving blades of light from 
African beacons. Exploring the still depths 
around the island with my father, we'd 
discovered a string of yellow torpedoes 
that had fallen there in the last war, and 
we'd brought up a Greek amphora that 
was almost a meter in length, wrapped 
petrified garlands, at the bottom of which 
lay the dregs of some immemorial and poi 
sonous wine. 

But the most dazzling revelation for us 
had been Fulvia Flaminea. She looked like 
a jolly bishop and went about everywhere 
with an entourage of sleepy cats that got in 


1 


the way of her walking, though she said 
she didn't tolerate them out of love but just. 
to keep the rats from cating her. At night, 
while our parents watched programs for 
adults on television, Fulvia Flaminea 
would take us to her house, less than 100 
meters away, and she taught us to distin- 
guish the distant Arabic tongues, the songs 
and gusts of wecping that came in the 
winds from Tunisia. Her husband was 
much younger than she, and during thc 
summers, he worked at the tourist hotels 
on the other side of the island. coming. 
home only to sleep. 

Oreste lived with his parents a little way 
off and always showed up at night with a 
string of fish or baskets of lobsters he had 
just caught, and he would hang them in 
Fulvia Flaminea's kitchen so that her hus- 
band would take them the next day to sell 
in the hotels. Then he would put his diving 
lamp on his forehead again and take us to 
hunt wood rats as big as rabbits that lay in 
wait for kitchen leavings. Sometimes we'd 
get home after our parents had gone to bed 
and have a hard time getting to sleep 
because of the clamor of rats fighting over 
scraps in the courtyards, but even that dis- 
turbance was one more happy ingredient 
of our happy summer. 

The decision to hire a German govern- 
ess could only have occurred to my father, 
a writer from the Caribbean with more 
conceit than talent. Dazzled by the ashes 
of the glories of Europe, he always seemed 
to be making cxcuscs for his origins, in his 
books as well as in real life, and the fantasy 
he had imposed on himself was that not a 
vestige of his past should be left in his 
sons. My mother remained as humble as 
she had been as an itinerant teacher in 
upper Guarija and never imagined that 
her husband could conceive of an idea that 
wasn't providential. Neither of them could 
have thought seriously about what our life 
would be like with a lady sergeant from 
Dortmund who was determined to incul- 
cate us by force with the antiquated man- 
ners of European society, while they went 
off with 40 fashionable writers on a five- 
week cultural cruise around the islands of 
the Aegean. 


б 
Miss Forbes arrived оп the last Satur- 
day in July on the regular ferry from 
Palermo, and as soon as we saw her, we 
understood that the party was over. In 
that southern heat, she came wearing mili- 
tary boots and a double-breasted suit, 
with mannishly cut hair beneath a felt hat. 
She smelled like monkey рее, “That's how 
all Europeans smell, especially in sum- 
mer," my father told us. “It’s the smell of 
civilization.” But in spite of her martial 
getup, Miss Forbes was a pathetic creature 
who might have aroused our compassion 
had we been older or had she shown some 

trace of tenderness. 
The world changed overnight. The six 
(continued on page 88) 


HOT JACKET S, 


At left, he's wearing a 
velvet smaking jacket with 
a brocade vest ond piped 
flannel trousers; all by Rob- 
ert Stack, $900. The wing- 
collor shirt, $50, silk bow 
tie, $15, and opalescent 
studs, $45, ore all by 
Stack for Lord West. (Her 
dress, by Pot McDanagh.) 
At near right, the block- 
cashmere shawl-collar 
jocket, $1200, gobardine 
trousers, $400, satin 
double-breasted vest, 
$320, ond wing-callar fly- 
front shirt, $280, ore all 
by Cloude Montano. The 
black-and-white reversible 
tie, $17, is by Santana. At 
for right, the velvet single- 
breasted jacket with peak 
lopels, $550, gald-silk- 
topestry vest, $200, waal 
A morning trousers, $225, 
/ * and wing-collor shirt, 
$110, ore all by Gorrick 
‚Anderson. The silk 


COLD SCHNADD SE 


RING IN THE fashion By HOLLIS WAYNE iis yc 


marks the 100th anniversary of the tuxedo, named after 

NEWEST TREND Tuxedo Park, New York, where revolutionaries eschewed 
white tic and cutaway in favor of something slightly more 

IN COCKTAILS casual. The look caught on. And now the tuxedo and its 
accessories are moving toward a new dandyism: Rhett 

AMC S.L antic men aortas ex 
WITH A BLACK-TIE dark, jeweled tones mixed in with the black-and-white 
shiny fabrics. This new air of elegance gives dressing up 

YEAR-END BASH more flair and takes the onus off the black-tie penguin look. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MICHAEL HALSBAND 


84 


drink By EMANUEL GREENBERG ın 


its original incarnation, schnapps was a rank, fiery, clear 


spirit. A product of bleak climates and primitive times, it 
was favored in northerly European latitudes where winter 
lasts until May. Vikings thrived on the stuff. After a lusty 
session of murder, rape and pillage to work up a thirst, 
they'd settle down to some serious schnapps drinking. Ву 
all accounts, it took viking determination to get the vile 
liquor down. Over the years, schnapps was refined and 
retooled, becoming aquavit, vodka and gin in the process; 


At left, a black-wool, tone- 
on-tone plaid dinner jacket 
and trousers with grosgrain 
piping, about $700; his 
white-cotton tuck-front tux- 
edo shirt is $87.50; both 
by Alexander Julian. The 
blue-silk poisley bow tie 
and matching cummerbund 
are by A. B. Neckwear, 
$65. At neor right, his 
black-suede, notch-collar 
jocket has embossed black 
stripes, cbout $900; the 
black-wool trousers hove 
satin piping, $275; both by 
Bill Koiserman. The 
white-cottan, fly-front 
shirt, $110, is by D. Cenci. 
The silk bow tie, $17, is by 
Addison on Madison. At 
far right, his block-woal, 
tuxedo with double-pleated 
trousers, $300, tuck-frant 
shirt, $60, and cummer- 
bund, $15, are all by Yves 
Saint Laurent for After Six. 
The black-and-white-check 
by Lazo. 
(Her dress, by Tadaomi.) 


86 


then some shrewdies hit on the idea of reviving schnapps 
by making it appealing to young, contemporary palates. 
Starting with a clean white spirit, they took the proof down 
to more reasonable levels, added a measure of sweetness 
for balance and mint for snap. Peppermint schnapps, the 
breakthrough product, was a smash hit—stimulating a 
burst of similar items in a range of flavors. Mints still 
get the biggest play, but apple and peach are inching up, 
and you can find any number of savory nips on liquor- 
store shelves: assorted berries, (continued on page 232) 


At left, his black-linen/ 
viscose bird's-eye Spencer 
jacket, $395, has peak la- 
pels. It’s warn with a gold- 
and-black dauble-breosted 
vest, $85, The black-linen 
dauble-pleated trousers, 
$130, feature satin side 
piping. The shirt, $85, is a 
cattan wing-callar with a 
fly frant; all by Windsor 
European Fashion, Inc. The 
black-silk baw tie, $35, is 
by Alan Flusser. (Her aut- 
fit, by Tadaomi.) At right, 
he's wearing a black-wool 
single-breasted tuxedo with 
peak lapels and dauble- 
pleated trousers, $900, with 
а black-waal Jacquard 
four-buttan dauble- 
breasted shawl-callar vest, 
5165. The white-cattan 
tuck-front shirt, $115, has 
a wing collar. Black-silk 
baw tie, $27; all by 
Ermenegilda Zegna. The 
studs, $45, are by Rabert 
Stack far Lard West. (Her 
dress, by Riazzi.) 


PLAYBOY 


MISS-FORIIES 


(continued from page 80) 


“My brother was not breathing easily. “Poor us if 


she doesn’t die tonight,’ he said.” 


hours we spent in the sea every day, which 
since the summer began had exercised our 
imagination, were reduced to a single daily 
hour that was always the same. When we 
were with our parents, we'd had all the 
time we needed to swim with Oreste and 
to be amazed by the art and audacity with 
which he confronted octopuses in their 
own murky environment of ink and blood 
with no weapons other than his fighting 
knives. He continued to arrive at 11 
o'clock in his small outboard motorboat, 
as always, but now Miss Forbes wouldn't 
Tet him stay with us one minute longer 
than was necessary for our brief lesson in 
underwater swimming. She forbade us to 
go to Fulvia Flaminca's house at night, 
because she thought it showed too much 
familiarity with the help, and we had to 
devote the time we'd previously spent 
hunting rats to the analytic reading of 
Shakespeare. It was impossible for us to 
conceive of a crueler torment than this new 
life of little princes. 

But we soon realized that Miss Forbes 
wasn’t as strict with herself as she was 
with us, and that caused the first crack in 
her authority. In the beginning, she used 
to sit on the beach under the multicolored 
umbrella, dressed for war, reading ballads 
by Schiller, while Oreste taught us to dive, 
and then she'd give us theoretical lessons 
in deportment, hour after hour, until it 
was time for lunch, 

One day, she asked Oreste to take her to 
the tourist shops at the hotels in his motor- 
boat, and she returned with a one-piece 
bathing suit that was as black and as iri- 
descent as a sealskin, but she never went 
into the water, She would sun hersclf on 
the beach while we swam, and she'd dry 
the sweat from her body with a towel with- 
out taking a shower, so that at the end of 
three days, she looked like a cooked lobster 
and the smell of her civilization had 
become unbreathable. 

Her nights were her release. From the 
very beginning of her command, we'd 
heard somebody walking through the 
house at night, groping in the dark, and 
my brother began upsetting himself with 
the пойоп that he was hearing the 
drowned men of Fulvia Flaminea’s stories. 
Soon we discovered that the walker was 
Miss Forbes, who led by night the sort оГ 
single woman's life of which she disap- 
proved by day. 

One dawn, we surprised her in the 
kitchen іп her schoolgirl’s nightgown 
preparing one of her splendid desserts, her. 
body daubed from head to toe with flour 


and drinking a glass of port in a disorderly 
state that would have been scandalous to 
thc other Miss Forbes. From then on, we 
knew that after putting us to bed, she 
didn't go to her room but went down to 
the beach to swim on the sly or stayed in. 
the living room until very late, watching 
salacious television movies with the sound 
off, while she ate tarts and even drank bot- 
tles of the special wine that my father zeal- 
ously hoarded for memorable occasions. 
Contrary to her own preachings of auster- 
ity and restraint, her nonstop guzzling was 
proof of her unruly passion. We'd hear her 
talking to herself in her room, declaiming 
in her melodious German entire passages 
from Die Jungfrau von Orleans. We heard 
her sing, we heard her sobbing in bed until 
dawn, and then she would appear at 
breakfast, her eyes puffy with tears, more 
lugubrious and authoritarian than ever. 

Neither my brother nor I has ever again 
been so unhappy, but I was resigned to 
putting up with her until the end, for I 
knew that, no matter what, her power 
would prevail over ours. My brother, on 
the other hand, opposed her with all the 
impetuosity of his character and our 
happy summer turned into hell. The epi- 
sode with the moray was the last straw. 
That night, while we listened to Miss 
Forbes’s incessant pacing through the si- 
lent house, my brother let loose with the 
rancor that had been fermenting in his 
soul. 

“Pm going to kill her,” he said. 

What he said surprised me less than the 
coincidence that Pd been thinking the 
same thing since dinner. Nevertheless, 1 
tried to dissuade him 

“They'll chop off your head,” I said. 

“They don’t have guillotines in Sici 
he said. “Besides, nobody will know who 
it was.” 

I thought of the amphora we'd rescued 
from the waters and the sediment of the 
fatal wine that was still inside it. My father 
was kceping it because he wanted to sub- 
mit it to a thorough anal to determine 
the nature of its poison, which its great age 
alone did not explain. To use it on Miss 
rbes would be easy; no one would ever 
think her death had been anything but an 
accident or suicide. So at dawn, when we 
heard her collapse onto her bed, exhausted 
from her noisy vigil, we poured the wine 
from the amphora into a bottle of my 
father's special wine. From what we'd heard, 
the dose was enough to kill a horse. 

We had breakfast in the kitchen at nine 
o'clock sharp, served by Miss Forbes her- 


self, with the swcet rolls that Fulvia 
Flaminea had left in the oven carlier. 

“Iwo days after the substitution of the 
wine, when we were again at breakfast, my 
brother informed me with a disappointed 
glance that the poisoned bottle of wine was 
still intact on the sideboard. That was a 
Friday, and the bottle went untouched 
over the weekend. But on Tuesday, Miss 
Forbes drank half of it down while she 
watched racy movies on television. 

Nevertheless, she showed up, as pune- 
tual as ever, for breakfast on Wednesday. 
As usual, she looked as if'she'd had a bad 
night, and her anxious eyes behind her 
massive lenses grew even more anxious 
when she found а letter with German 
stamps in the breadbasket. She read it 
while she drank her coffee, something 
she’d often told us not to do; and as she 
read, her face brightened as if those writ- 
ten words radiated clearheadedness. Then 
she tore off the stamps and put them into 
the breadbasket with the leftover rolls for 
Fulvia Flaminca's husband. In spite оГ 
the morning’s bad start, that day she 
accompanied us on our underwater explo- 
ration. We wandered through the clear sea 
until our oxygen tanks began to give out 
and we returned to the house without hav- 
ing had our lesson in good manners. Not 
only was Miss Forbes a flowering spirit all 
day but at dinnertime she scemed livelier 
than ever. My brother couldn't bear his 
disappointment. As soon as we sat down, 
he pushed aside the plate of noodle soup 
and grimaced. 

“Гуе had it up to my balls with this 
worm water,” he said. 

Tt was as if he had tossed a hand gre- 
nade onto the table. Miss Forbes went 
pale; her lips hardened until the smoke of 
her anger began to clear and her eyeglass 
lenses douded over with tears. Then she 
took them off and dried them with her 
napkin, and before she rose, she laid them 
on the table with the bitterness of sur- 
render without glory. 

“You two do whatever you want,” she 
said. “Т no longer exist.” 

She shut herself up in her room from 
seven o'clock on, but just before midnight, 
when she supposed us to be sleeping, we 
saw her pass by in her schoolgirl night- 
gown, carrying to her room half a choco- 
late cake and the bottle that still held more 
than four fingers of the poisoned wine. 

“Poor Miss Forbes,” I said. 

My brother was not breathing easily. 

“Poor us if she doesn’t dic tonight,” 
he said. 

That dawn, she talked to herself again 
for a long time, reciting Schiller in a grand 
voice, inspired with frenzied madness and 
topping it off with a wail that filled the 
house. Then she sighed several times from 
the depths of her soul and finished with a 
sad and drawn-out whistle, like that of a 
drifting ship. When we woke up, still 

(concluded on page 186) 


007 
ШІ 


WHILE summit talks are 
fine, but we wanted 
LENIN action—that's why 
we sent this reagan 
SLEPT all the way to moscow 
article By RON REAGAN “^s we are now fying 


over Soviet territory, let me remind you that taking photo- 
graphs from the airplane, or at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Air- 
port, is strictly forbidden.” 

Our pilot’s voice is nonchalant enough—he has delivered 
this announcement plenty of times before—but it carries an 
unmistakable “I’m not kidding” undertone. Most of the 
20-odd passengers aboard British Airways flight 710 begin 
fidgeting in their seats. The captain might just as well have told 
vs that a gang of jack-booted thugs, AK 47s in one hand, rubber 
gloves on the other, was going to storm the plane and conduct a 
strip search. Across the aisle, a pallid Englishman begins eying 


his airsickness bag and motions for the steward to 
bring him another Scotch on the rocks. I make a note 
to scratch any future trips to the lavatory. 

It’s ridiculous, of course. The Pentagon has satel- 
lites cruising in geosynchronous orbit that can read 
postage stamps. And the Russians are worried about 
some tourist with an Instamatic? No, regulations like 
that one are intended solely as intimidation tactics. 
Reflexively, 1 pick up my camera, one of those sure- 
fire gadgets that do everything but buy your film, 
and fire off a few frames out the window. No matter 
that ГЇЇ get nothing but cloud cover and glare; one 
symbolic gesture deserves another. 

A month before, in Los Angeles, the sun was shin- 
ing its promise of spring. My phone rang and an 
eerily familiar voice came over the Record a Call. 

“Коп, you there?” The voice was raspy, obviously 
cracking from strain. “Why don't you stop hiding 
behind the machine and pick up the phone?” 

The raspiness gave him away. It was my PLAYBOY 
editor. The strained voice came from years of having 
to juggle the output of hard- 
ened journalists along with 
editing Playmates’ major 
turn-offs. The last time Га 
seen or heard from him, he 
was acting vaguely disap- 
pointed that my foray to the 
Democratic Convention in 
San Francisco, chronicled in 
these pages [While the Demo- 
ста Slept, eLayboy, December 
1984], hadn’t resulted іп any 
permanent physical or psy- 
chological scarring. 

"You bastard," I said, 
snatching up the receiver. “How did you get my new 
number?” 

“Never mind,” he growled. “Listen, how would 
you like to spend May Day in Red Square?” 

“Sure. Then maybe I can do a story about how it 
feels to be lashed to the prow of an icebreaker cross- 
ing the Bering Strait." 

“Ron”—his се stiffened a notch— “I didn't 
want to bring this up, but there's a little matter of 
expenses incurred during the convention by a certain 
San Francisco belly dancer. . . .” 

“Whoa! Wait a minute. That was supposed to go 
on the Ranger’s [my accomplice at the Dem Conven- 
tion] expense account.” 

"Hmm . . . funny, we show it on yours.” His voice 
cracked again. “The lady has put in claims for 
extended creative dancing.” 

Visions of lengthy and brutal litigation swam 
before my eyes. That son of a bitch Ranger and his 
foul proclivities! 

“All right, you win. ГЇЇ go, but I’m not going 
alone. And this time, 1 pick my own partner.” 

I wasn't taking any chances in a country known 
for gunning down unarmed military observers and 
civilian airliners, to say nothing of harboring very lit- 


“Listen, Ron,’ growled 
my editor, ‘how 
would you like to 
spend May Day in 
Red Square?” 


tle love for a certain relative of mine. After several 
tense phone calls, I secured the services of Misha, a 
fellow whose family had come from Russia. He is a 
former Yale hockey player who set the old Eli rec- 
ord for time spent in the penalty box. His utter dis- 
regard for sportsmanship and his demonstrated 
propensity for violence—plus fluency in Russian 
and his two previous trips to Moscow— made Misha 
a natural for this assignment. This will seem strange, 
but he is also my literary agent. 

“Sounds dangerous." Misha eyed me warily over 
the foamy head of his draught lager. 

We were sitting in a pit stop on the way to the Twi- 
light Zone—the bar and grill of the bunkerlike Sher- 
aton Heathrow Hotel, outside London. All about us, 
a motley crew of waiters scurried, babbling an 
incoherent Esperantolike dialect. Behind the bar, in 
a huge display tank, tiny prawns were being forced to 
copulate with thrashing Atlantic salmon. As a grue- 
some finale, both creatures would be ritualistically 
grilled, then, still locked in coital passion, served 
up piping hot to terrified 
patrons. 

“Misha, there could be big 
money in it for you,” I lied. 
He’d get his ten percent, nota 
penny more. 

“Well, I guess it'll Бе OK. 
But she’s gotta come with 
me.” He motioned with a jerk 
of his head to a petite woman 
on his left. “She's a psycholo- 
gist, a sex therapist. I don't 
go anywhere without her, 
ever since . . . never mind.” 

“How do you do, Miss. ...”” 


I extended my hand. 

“Dr. Sally.” She declined the handshake and 
resumed poking at a prawn. Fair enough. After all, I 
was taking my wife, Doria, and I desperately needed 
Misha as a translator. 

Our flight left the next morning. 


AN AUSPICIOUS BEGINNING 


"Comin" into Sheremetyevo! Bringin’ in a kilo of 
snow! Don't touch my bags, if you plecease, Mr. 
K.G.Bece!” 

1 can't believe it. Three minutes on Russian soil 
and, till now, everything has gone smoothly. We 
landed safely. No one confiscated our cameras 
Arthur Hartman, the American Ambassador, is 
smiling at the top of the terminal ramp. And Misha 
has lost his mind. 

“If you act crazy,” he whispers between choruses, 
"they'll leave you alone.” 

“You fool," I hiss. “We don't need crazy; we've got 
an Ambassador.” He abruptly stops. The silence, 
as they say, is deafening. Strange. This is, after all, 
the U.S.S.R.’s busiest airport. But as I look around 
the place—bare, devoid of any decoration—I notice 
thatwearetheonlytravelers — (continuedon page 104) 


“You lent her your dress, your perfume, your lipstick. How could I resist?” 


YES. THAT'S who you 
think it is. And, 
yes, there he is 
again. We've 
known Don John- 
son а long time— 
since 1976, to be 
exact. He and his 
then-wife, Melanie 
Griffith, posed for a 
Pareo pictorial— 
one of a series of 
couples shoot- 
ings—titled Fast 
Starter. We didn't 
have room to run 
all the photos then. 
Besides, pictures 
from the post have 
always had a place 
in our hearts—and 
оп our pages. If the 
reason for the 
reprise is that he's 
gone on to the 
white-hot big time, 
hell, that's one for 
the girls. Always 
told you we don't 
discriminate. Don 
and Melanie have 
since gone their 


separate ways, we knew don johnson 
Melanie to the 
SSS and melanie griffith 
lere, iss before “тісті vice’ 
Steven (Thief of E P 
Hearts) Bauer, Don and “body double 


to parenthood with 
actress Potti D'Ar- 
banville and the 
lead in that show 
that comes an 
Friday-night TV. 
You know: We're 
talking heot. Last 
summer, more than 
10,000 fans turned 
out at a Chicago 
department store to 
meet Don and the 
other stars of Miami PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


Vice. When the 
Cubs aren'tin a 
pennant race, 
these things hop- 
pen. The man hos 
charisma, charm 
and fashian sense. 
Some people argue 
that clathes moke 
the man, that those 
fancy Italian 
threads he's wear- 
ing in the opening 
photo are respon- 
sible for the success 
of Miami Vice. We 
know better. For 
one thing, TV re- 
ception at our 
hause is so bad, 
you can hardly tell 
what kind af 
clothes Don Jahn- 
son is wearing. The 
other thing is that 
we knew fram 
these pictures that 
clothes didn’t make 
this man. When 
they were taken, 
Melanie, then 19, 
was usually identi- 
fied in parenthe- 
ses: (Tippi Hedren's 
daughter). She had 
recently finished 
Night Moves with 
Gene Hackman 
and was abaut ta 
film The Drowning 
Pool with Paul 
Newman. Don 
Johnson was best 


102 


known as her hus- 
band. He was a 
nice guy who sere- 
naded her with 
sangs оп an acaus- 
tic guitar. They had 
started dating 
when she wos 14 
and he was 
22—while he was 
filming The Horrad 
Experiment with 
her mother. 
Photographer 
Richard Fegley flew 
them ta a little 
place south of 
Puerto Vallarta. 
They traveled by 
boat ta a tiny vil- 
lage. Fegley 
remembers, “It was 
isolated, aver- 
grown. We had to 
watch where we 
walked. There 
were scorpions 
everywhere. Fortu- 
nately, Don and 
Melanie were will- 
ing to try anything 
for the camera; 
that water was 
freezing. We hod 
to wait hours for 
the sun ta come 
through a cleoring 
in the jungle and 
hit the pool. They 
were at a good 
time in their lives— 
in love, ramantic.” 
It is interesting to 
play archaeologist, 
ta see if you can 
glimpse the future 
in such innacent 
faces. There is a 
touch of the devil- 
ish rogue in Don 
Jahnson's face. He 
laoks hot. 


PLAYBOY 


WHILE LENIN SLEPT 


(continued from page 92) 


“You must not look for rational reasons here,’ warns 
Sergei in nearly flawless English. There are none.’” 


in sight. It could be Peoria at three in the 
morning. 

Ambassador Hartman's limo, a stretch 
Caddy that draws stares from the locals, 
whisks us along the Leningradsky Pros- 
pect toward downtown Moscow. Every- 
thing is gray: weather, slablike apartment 
complexes, faces peering from the few cars 
we pass. 

As we draw close, splashes of red ap- 
pear—trappings of the upcoming May 
Day celebration. Strung from lampposts, 
the lighted stars look incongruously like 
Christmas decorations. WELCOME TO THE 
27TH PARTY CONGRESS! proclaim banners 
hanging limp in the cold, damp air. May 
LENINS CONTRIBUTIONS LAST FOREVER! THE 
FIGHT FOR PEACE IS THE FIGHT OF ONE AND ALL! 

Before leaving the U.S., I had slipped a 
couple of banned publications—Trotsky’s 
Russian Revolution and PLAYBOY—into my 
bag to test the alertness of Soviet luggage 
searchers. Standing in our room at Spaso 
House, the Ambassador's residence, I’m a 
bit disappointed to find them intact. On 
closer inspection, however, the pages of 
PLAYBOY reveal large, greasy thumbprints. 

Spaso House was not originally on our 
itinerary. My editor's idea was to have me 
cross the border as “just another jour- 
nalist” or, failing that, “just another tour- 
ist” No way. I might as well try 
parachuting into the Urals and hitchhik- 
ing to Moscow. My family name on a pass- 
port was sure to set off bells. After several 
conversations with high-placed friends in 
Washington, it seemed I had two options: 
(1) Pretend I was on a more or less official 
diplomatic venture and resign myself to a 
dog-and-pony show, plus guided tours by 
the Intourist branch of K.G.B., or (2) play 
it straight as a journalist and resign myself 
toa dog-and-pony show, plus guided tours 
by Intourist. I chose option three. 

1 first secured an invitation as a per- 
sonal guest of Ambassador Hartman's, en- 
abling me to enter the country without the 
usual delay and to enjoy sanctuary at 
Spaso House. Then I turned down all 
offers from Intourist on the grounds of 
allergic reaction to propaganda and 
tedium. Last, I filled in the excessively. 
prying visa application with scrupulous 
honesty, confessing that I was a writer on 
a research mission. As Frank Gifford 
might say, 1 “split the seam of the 
defense.” In Soviet terms, I’m neither dip- 
lomat nor journalist but, paradoxically, a 
little of both. What consternation this has 
caused in official circles, 1 can only imag- 
ine. The upshot is, I’m a temporary non- 
person: intensely scrutinized by the 


K.G.B. yet allowed to travel freely; totally 
ignored by the Kremlin but unencum- 
Бегей by stage-managed interview oppor- 
tunities with “average” citizens. 

We've chosen a good night to arrive. 
Vladimir Feltsman, perhaps the finest 
young pianist in the Soviet Union, із favor- 
ing about 30 Spaso House guests with a 
private recital. You will not see this 
extraordinary artist in the U.S., nor will 
you catch his performance in a Moscow 
concert hall. Since applying with his wife, 
Anna, to emigrate to Israel, Volodya, as 
his friends call him, has been refused per- 
mission to travel abroad, and his concert 
appearances inside the U.S.S.R. have been 
severely curtailed. Record stores no longer 
stock his albums. Radio stations don't play 
his music. His name is not mentioned in 
officially sanctioned music circles. He is a 
refusenik. 

After a breath-taking program of Schu- 
mann and Schubert, we settle down to din- 
ner. Another refusenik, Sergei Petrov, is on 
my left. Four years ago, Sergei, a free-lance 
photographer, married a visiting Ameri- 
can student and applied for emigration to 
the U.S. He was turned down on the basis 
of national security. A while back, fresh 
out of college, he spent three months work- 
ing at a military research center. He had 
no access to classified information and, 
even if he had, could easily have passed it 
on by now. No matter. His emigration is 
“undesirable.” 

“You must not look for rational reasons 
here,” warns Sergei in nearly flawless 
English. “There are none.” 

For the next half hour or so, over Rus- 
sian potatoes and French asparagus the 
size of my forearm, Sergei dissects the Rus- 
sian character and the Soviet state. 

“J don’t think it’s possible,” he says, 
“for the Soviet Union to have long-term 
cooperation with the United States. You 
see, Russians, even in one-to-one dealings, 
do not see the possibility of mutual benefit. 
Always, one side must win. 

“I used to be a different person,” he 
continues. “I changed when I married my 
wife. I was resigned, but now I see possi- 
bilities. You can say no. Once you say that 
first no, however, you can't go back.” 

For an Indian exchange student across 
the table, this is all a bit too gloomy. 
“Surcly, some people here have faith in 
communism,” he ventures, his voice 
betraying exasperation, 

A smile flickers beneath Sergei’s bristly 
mustache. “I don't know.” He pauses. 
“Гуе never met one.” 


‘THE WAX GOD 


Mussolini, it has been noted, made the 
trains run on time. The Soviets, for all 
their failures, have built an efficient, dual- 
purpose subway system. Six miles un- 
derground, at the end of mine-chute 
escalators, are clean, graffiti-free, often 
ornate bomb shelters. Trains pass through 
often, and five kopecks (about seven cents) 
will buy a ride. 

On the train, passengers stare furtively 
at my high-top Converse All Star sneak- 
ers. In fact, all of us draw stares directed at 
our feet. No wonder Everyone else is wear- 
ing nearly identical boot-shoes stamped 
from the same batch of cardboard. This 
country is ripe for a Reebok outlet. 

Popping up at Marx Prospect, we make 
a beeline for Red Square. Huge red ban- 
ners bearing the likenesses of Lenin, 
Engels and Marx, as well as the stand- 
ard Socialist-realism vignettes—smiling 
proles with brawny arms humping stalks 
of wheat—are being hauled into place 
over the arcade of the GUM department 
store. Lenin’s tomb is a blaze of scarlet 
flowers. Saint Basil’s Cathedral, its spires 
and minarets glowing despite the overcast, 
looks spit shined. On the front of the 
Museum of History, a large sign ап- 
nounces, MAY FIRST! 

Everywhere, little babushkas (grand- 
mothers) with twig brooms trundle about 
beneath layers of quilted clothing, sweep- 
ing, polishing, occasionally pausing to 
berate bystanders. These tiny women are 
unavoidable. As fierce as maggots, they 
patrol art galleries and museums, stand 
guard in metro stations and cruise the 
streets, shrieking mercilessly at the un- 
wary. Couples publicly embracing (an un- 
seemly display of affection), women of 
childbearing age sitting on cold stone steps 
(danger of infertility) and mothers walking 
their young sons to church (revanchist 
religious tendencies) incur their special 
wrath. Among other functions, the babush- 
kas serve as shock troops for K.G.B. Let a 
Soviet citizen boldly invite a foreigner 
home for a drink, and the baba in his 
apartment lobby will surely make a call to 
the appropriate authorities. She may get a 
medal for her trouble. What these decora- 
tions are called—Medal of Meanness? 
Order of Orneriness?—I have no idea, but 
a frightening number of old women sport 
them on their lapels. 

Lenins tomb is zakrytie na remont 
(dosed for repairs). Among Muscovites, 
the joke is that at such times, all the can- 
dies in the city disappear: A long time ago, 
they say, the official state embalmers 
dropped a stitch and ended up with some- 
thing the size of a Barbie doll and the con- 
sistency of beef jerky. The Lenin on 
display, many believe, is actually a wax re- 
creation by Madame Tussaud—a tough 
break for a guy the Soviets refer to as the 

(continued on page 226) 


“The kid's going to take the fall.” 


105 


ILLUSTRATION BY GREG SPALENKA 


South Africa at Home 


REAGAN AND THE REVIVAL ОЕ RACISM 


essay By HODDING CARTER III 


IN THE EARLY FALL of 1985, the television images from South 
Africa stirred politicians along the Potomac—including a 
reluctant President—to unprecedented, if limited, action. 
They stirred something quite different in me—a sense of 
vaguely cynical déja vu, of irony only thinly masking deep 
pessimism about the course of recent American history. 


Тһе déjà vu is obvious. To a white Mississippian who lived 
and worked in that state during the days of massive 


five years of this president has set black america back twenty years 


resistance to integration, televised pictures of sprawling 
black demonstrators and charging white cops are old stuff. 
Only the locale has changed. 

But the cynicism springs from something more recent and 
far more disturbing. We Americans still seem capable of 
moral outrage about man’s inhumanity to man or raci 
embodied in official policy. But now, unlike 20 years ago, 
our outrage grows stronger the farther away the repression. 
What bores or even angers us is the insistence of the nation’s 
minorities that we are still a long way from the mountaintop 


PLAYBOY 


108 


of true equality. It is a new America, 
Ronald Reagan’s America, and at times it 
smells a lot like the old Mississippi. 

The interior camera throws up its own 
images: 

One is from the Transkei, a tiny section 
of South Africa carved out by the govern- 
ment in Pretoria as “an independent 
homeland” for certain blacks. It was early 
evening in the summer of 1975, and I was 
out walking on the streets of Umtata, the 
capital. A light-skinned, middle-aged man 
close to being a caricature of a European 
colonialist, complete with clipped mus- 
tache, knee socks and (to this American 
ear) British accent, approached me. 

“Do you know where a colored can get a 
drink at this hour?” he asked. 

For a moment, I didn’t understand the 
question. Then, with a flood of queasy em- 
barrassment, I did. Here, in this independ- 
ent, black-run “nation,” the rules of the 
South African game still held. Whites and 
nonwhites must eat, drink, be educated, 
live and die in separate places. It was the 
reality behind all the official rhetoric of 
reform, sickeningly familiar to a Southern- 
er of my generation. 

Another image: midsummer, 1960, on 
the main business street of Greenville, 
Mississippi, my home town. The local 
leader of the NAACP, a black business- 
man, walked up, said hello and put out his 
hand. I froze. Should I break the unwrit- 
ten code and shake hands with a black 
man, with God knew how many folk look- 
ing on in enraged disbelief? Should I live 
up to my private beliefs, no matter what 
segregation demanded? 

A friend called out from across the 
street. I turned quickly, gratefully, in his 
direction, and the moment passed. I had 
flunked the test. 

And yet another image: May 1954, one 
of those beautiful spring days that made a 
Princeton education seem like a long vaca- 
tion with F. Scott Fitzgerald. My good 
friend and fellow Mississippian, John 
Stennis, son of the U.S. Senator, bounced 
into me on the walkway near Nassau Hall. 
Had I heard the news? The Supreme 
Court had just ruled that school seg- 
regation— “separate but equal” educa- 
ton — was unconstitutional. 

Thunder. Lightning. Both of us fresh- 
men angrily agreed that such constitu- 
tional craziness would not be tolerated or 
obeyed. The Court might rule, but it could 
not command the white South to abandon 
its way of life. And while we decent folk 
knew that Negroes were sometimes—no, 
too often—abused by the Snopeses among 
us, that was no justification for Federal 
intervention of any kind, judicial, legisla- 
tive or executive. We had to be allowed to 
change under our own steam, according to 
our own timetable and in our own way. 
Anyway, Negroes just weren’t ready for 
racial mingling. 

Finally, turn forward to the late fall of 


1984, shortly after the smashing re-elec- 
tion triumph of Ronald Reagan. I was a 
guest at a small Washington dinner party. 
The conversation at one end of the table 
focused on civil rights at home and human 
rights abroad in the Eighties. The manag- 
ing editor of a once-liberal journal of opin- 
ion, a man who still wore the tattered 
remnants of the liberal label, turned dur- 
ing the often-heated discussion to my wife 
and remarked, “You have to face the fact 
that some people are culturally and geneti- 
cally unsuited for democracy.” 

No thunder, no lightning, except from 
my wife, Patricia Derian, a fierce battler 
for both kinds of rights over the past quar- 
ter century. No one else at the table pub- 
licly demurred or even seemed to notice 
that a circle had been closed, that with 
barely a blush of self-conscious rationali- 
zation, a point of view once thought buried 
for good among all but the overtly racist 
had resurfaced. It might as well have been 
a dinner table in the Mississippi Delta in 
the early Sixties. 

Actually, it wasn’t all that surprising. 
In ways that would have been unthinkable 
ten years ago, five years of the Reagan 
Presidency has given new hope to Ameri- 
ca's bigots and renewed legitimacy to the 
sly slogans of white supremacy. If it is not 
precisely a return to the time of Redemp- 
tion, that tragic period in the 1870s when 
Washington turned its back on the black 
South and allowed white Southerners to 
reconstruct slavery in a new guise called 
Jim Crow, it is not because the President 
and his men have not tried. 

But first, a half bow in the direction of 
Ronald Reagan, the all-American good 
guy. He is no slavering segregationist, no 
prophet of the purity of white civilization, 
no maddened defender of a society legally 
divided by race. He appears to be sin- 
cerely convinced that he is color-blind and 
that society should be color-blind as well. 
By all reports, he finds acts of discrimina- 
tion against individuals morally offensive. 

The problem is that this very nice man 
has yet to find a Federal answer to insti- 
tutionalized racism that he can whole- 
heartedly support, at least in its early 
stages. The unavoidable record establishes 
the fact that at each moment of national 
decision, he has gone with the segregation- 
ists while the majority has gone with racial 
change. 

"That was not too bad when he was sim- 
ply a Hollywood actor and special-interest 
spokesman stumping for the new conserv- 
ative Jerusalem. It was at least a geo- 
graphically isolated challenge to racial 
equality, though a powerful one, when he 
was governor of California. It is a disaster 
now that he is President, in both concrete 
and symbolic ways. 

What kind of disaster was succinctly 
summarized in 1984 by an editor of a 
major newspaper in a Middle Atlantic 
state. In a memo arguing (unsuccessfully) 


for the papers endorsement cf Walter 
Mondale instead of the President, he 
wrote: 


When Ronald Reagan is asked why 
his support among blacks is so abys- 
mally low, he assumes an air of 
injured innocence and claims that his 
record on civil rights is “the best-kept 
secret in Washington.” In light of a 
record of relentless and at times even 
bitter hostility to traditional civil 
rights goals, one would think the 
President would earnestly desire to 
keep it just that way—a secret. 

At the outset of his political career, 
he was among the few public figures 
who opposed enactment of the Civil 
Rights Act of 1964. During Presi- 
dential-campaign appearances in 
the South in 1976 and 1980, he rou- 
tinely dropped into his speeches a line 
about how we'd all seen a “strapping 
buck” buying T-bone steaks at the 
supermarket with food stamps. In the 
South, of course, that term is never 
used except as a vulgar racist epithet. 

As President, he has cut basic sup- 
port programs for the working poor; 
he appointed as his chief civil rights 
enforcer a Delaware aristocrat who 
had never been to Mississippi; he 
opposed the extension of the Voting 
Rights Act, the crown jewel of the 
civil rights legislation of the Sixties; 
he favored giving tax breaks to segre- 
gated private schools; he opposed 
designating Martin Luther King’s 
birthday as a holiday; when it became 
apparent the King holiday had over- 
whelming Congressional support, hc 
then signed the bill in a Rose Gar- 
den ceremony (but only after an 
unguarded snarl that maybe in 35 
years we'd know whether or not Dr. 
King associated with Communists); 
he restructured the Civil Rights Com- 
mission in a way which abandoned 
that body's historic commitment to 
racial justice; he appointed a single 
black to a top-ranking Government 
position—one who maintains such a 
low profile that he is widely known in 
the black community as Silent Sam. 


I quote this memo at such length 
because its author is a white Southerner 
who, like me, cut his journalistic teeth in 
the South during the long, bitter years of 
revolutionary change and bloody resist- 
ance. He, like me, had to make a hard 
journey of personal change along with 
most of our fellow white Southerners. And 
he, like me, is now appalled to see the Rea- 
gan Administration—in concert with too 
many other Americans—backing away 
from the nation’s belated attempt to make 
good on the promises of its basic political 
documents. 

The Administration's policy оГ 

(continued on page 214) 


rest ye merry, gentlemen procrastinators. playboy once again comes up with 
a sleighful of last-minute yuletide goodies 


Enter Gargan, a 42”-tall, veddy British fiberglass butler that’s 
right out of the art-deco era, from Christopher's on Columbus, 
New York, $B50. On Garcon's tray is The Art of Playboy, o lovish 
184-page, full-color look ot marsov's significont contribution to con- 
temporory magazine ort, with o text by Ray Bradbury, from Ployboy 
Products, $27.50. The plostic-phone-cord quortz watch con be 
worn oround the woist, from Wokmann Wotch, New York, $25. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVE JORDANO 


Above: For instant Yupword mobility, there's 
the Gucci quartz timepiece that comes with an 
18-kt.-gold-plated case and a pigskin strap, 
by Severin Montres, Ltd., $295. The early- 
Fifties pink Cadillac features оп individually 
serialized license plate ond on owner's certifi- 
cate, from Leadworks, Inc., Salon, Ohio, $40. 


Top center: The 12"-tall steel Mechabeon lamp sheds light on a new school of illumination; the 
Mechabean's shade flips up and down, it's equipped with a dimmer ond the lock is high-tech 
whimsy, fram Limn, Son Francisco, $360 each. That well-stocked Aiwa V-1200ACD stereo system 
includes a power amplifier that puts aut 75 watts per channel, a compact-disc player, a lineor- 
tracking programmable turntable, an cutochanger double cassette deck that will play up ta five 
cassettes in a row, plus o wireless remote-cantral unit, $1800. Next ta the Aiwa: A 10" x 7" х 4” 
transparent AM/FM radia fitted with blue- ar pink-neon tubing, from Dapy, New York, about $450. 


Top left: Instead of smokes, this cedar cigar box holds a dozen 50-milliliter bottles of Johnnie 
Walker Black Lobel Scotch, $19.95. Next to the Scotch is Answer Uno, a portable telephone 
onswerer that can be programmed to answer the phone in its own voice, relaying whatever mes- 
sage you program, from European Telephone Company, Conton, Massachusetts, $71.95. Tea- 
Time, an eight-cup outomotic teomoker, by Krups, $150. That black-morble sphere holds a 

rozor, toothbrush ond shaving brush, from St. Mark V, New York, $BO. Next to it: A 
bottle of L'Eau de Cologne du Caporol, from Jean Laporte, L'Artisan Porfumeur, New York, $60. 


Above: Our 11m+ouR SANTA title is оп the screen 
of Proton's 625 monitor/receiver, o 25" cable- 
compatible color model with full-function wire- 
less remote, multi audio and -video inputs ond 
outputs, lost-channel recall, on/off sleep timer 
and video noise-reduction circuitry that re- 
duces ringing in low-brightness pictures, $1250. 


112 


fiction 
By KEN KESEY 


dev plunged deep into the 
quarry to find the monster— 
and after that, nothing was 
ever quite the same agam 


killer 


I wander through each chartered street, 
Near where the chartered Thames does 
‘flow, 
And mark in every face I meet 
Marks of weakness, marks of woe. 
— WILLIAM BLAKE 


KILLER, the one-eyed, one-horned billy 
goat—rearing fully егесі on his hind legs, 
tall as a man, tucking his cloven hooves 
beneath his flying Uncle Sam beard, bow- 
ing his neck, slanting his one horn and 
bulging his ghastly square-lensed eye at 
M kehla's back—came pile-driving down. 

“M'kehla, watch out!” 

M'kehla didn't even turn to check. 
Using the fence post like a pommel horse, 
he vaulted instantly sideways. Amazing 
nimble for a man his size, I marveled, not 
to mention been up driving all night. 

The goat’s horn grazed his bare thigh, 
then struck the post so hard that the newly 
stretched wire sang and hummed all the 
way to the post anchored at the corner of 
the chicken house. The hens squawked 
and the pigeons flushed up from the roof, 
hooting angrily. They didn’t like the goat 
any better than M'kehla did. 

“Choose me off, will you, you smelly 
bastard!” M’kehla pistoned a furious kick 
against the blind side of Killer’s shaking 
head— “Tl kick your mother skull in'"— 
then two more to the jaw before the dazed 
animal could back away from the post. 

“Hey, c'mon, man. He does this with 
everybody. It isn’t anything”—I had to 
think a moment to come up with an alter- 
nate word— “personal. Honest, he does it 
with everybody." 

This was only partly honest. True, 
Killer had tagged just about everybody on 


ILLUSTRATION BY WALTER GURBO. 


= 


PLAYBOY 


14 


the farm at опе time ог another—me, 
Betsy, the kids playing around the pond— 
but the goat had seemed to choose 
M'kehla off special the moment the man 
had arrived. 

It had been early that morning, before 
anybody was up. 1 half heard the machine 
pull in and cut its motor, but 1 figured it 
was probably my brother Buddy in his 
creamery van, out to get an early start on 
the (ау roundup. I rolled back over, 
determined to get as much sleep as possi- 
ble for the festivities ahead. A few seconds 
later, I was jarred bolt upright by a bellow 
of outrage and pain, then another, then a 
machine-gun blast of curses that sounded 
like they were being fired all the way from 
the ghetto of hell. 

Betsy and I were instantly on our feet. 

“Who in the world ——" 

“Not Buddy,” I said, dancing into my 
pants. “That's for sure.” 

Still unzipped, I reached the front door. 
Through the open window, I saw a shiny 
black bus parked іп the gravel of our drive, 
still smoking. I heard another shout and 
another string of curses; then I saw a big 
brown man in a skimpy white loindoth 
come hopping out of the exhaust fumes at 
the rear end of the bus. He had a Mexican 
huaracho on one foot and was trying to 
put the mate on his other foot as he 
hopped. He looked behind him, then 
paused at the bus door and began banging 
the metal with the sandal. 

“Open this door, damn your bastard 
ass! Open this door!” 

“It's M’kehla,” I called back toward 
our bedroom. “And here comes Killer 
after him.” 

The goat rounded the rear of the bus 
and skidded to a spread-legged stop in the 
gravel, looking this way and that. His lone 
eye was so inflamed with hate that he was 
having trouble seeing. His ribs pumped 
and his lips foamed. He looked more like 
an animated character than a live animal, 
a crazy old goat man in chin whiskers; you 
could almost hear him muttering in car- 
toon frustration as he swung his gaze back 
and forth in search of his quarry. 

M’kehla kept banging and cursing. I 
glimpsed a face at a bus window, but the 
door did not open. Suddenly, the banging 
was cut short by a snorting bleat. Killer 
had found his mark. Gravel sprayed as the 
hooves scratched for ramming speed 
M'kehla threw the sandal hard at the on- 
rushing animal’s lowered head, then 
sprinted away, around the front fender. 

I could hear him all the way around 
the backstretch, heaping curses on the 
bearded demon at his rear, on the bastard 
behind the bus door, on the very stones 
underfoot. 

When he appeared again at the rear of 
the bus, I swung open our door: 

“Tn here!” 

He covered the 20 yards across our drive 
in a tenderfooted stumble, Killer gaining 


with every leap. I slammed the door 
behind him just as the goat clattered onto 
the porch and piled against the doorframe. 
The whole house shook. 

M'kehla rolled his eyes in relief. “Lubba 
mussy, Cap'n,” he finally gasped in a high 
Stepin Fetchit voice. “Whar you git that 
bad watchdog? Selma, Ali-bama?” 

“Little Rock. Orval Faubus been devel- 
oping this strain to guard watermelons.” 

“Orval allus had a knack,” he wheezed, 
rolling his eyes again, bobbing his head 
foolishly. I grinned at him and waited. 
Betsy called a greeting from the bedroom 
and he instantly dropped the field-hand 
facade. He straightened up to his full six- 
foot-plus and held out his hand. 

“Hello, Home,” he said in his natural 
voice. “Good to see you.” 

“You, too, M’kehla. Been a while.” 1 
put my palm to his, hooking thumbs. 
“How’ve you been?” 

“Keepin’ ahead. Still keepin’ at least 
one step ahead.” 

He held the grip and we stood for a min- 
ute in silence. It had been a long while, 
and we were studying each other’s faces. 
Since we last saw each other, I had wasted 
ten foolish months playing the fugitive in 
exile, then another six behind bars. He 
had lost one younger brother in Laos, 
another in a 7-Eleven shoot-out with the 
Oakland police and an ailing mother as a 
result. Enough to mark any man. Yet his 
features were still as unmarred as a pol- 
ished idol’s, his eyes as unwavering. 

Then he changed expressions again, as 
if he had read my thoughts. I saw his eyes 
go gentle and his mouth curve into a loose 
grin. Before I could free my hand and duck 
out of reach, he hauled me close and kissed 
me full on the mouth. His skin was slick 
from his scrimmage with the goat. 

“Not to mention still sweatin’ and 
smellin’.” I wriggled free. “No wonder 
Charity wouldn't let you back on the 
bus.” 

“Tt isn’t Charity, Dev. Charity told me 
to split for a while. It is a profound mys- 
tery to me how come.” 

He gave me a wicked sidelong glance 
and went on. 

“All that happen was I tell her, ‘Get up 
and give me some breakfast; I don’t care if 
you are pregnant.’ And for that she tells 
me, ‘No, you get up, get up and get god- 
damn gone" Just like that. So I been 
going” 

He nodded toward the bus. 

“That's Heliotrope's pup out there. Lit- 
tle Percy. Percy Without Mercy, he calls 
himself nowadays.” He leaned down 
to shake his fist out the open window, 
hollering. “But he better quit dickin" 
with me, he ever expect to see his momma 
again... !” 

The face at the bus window paid no 
attention. He was busy worrying about 
dangers much nearer. Killer had returned 
and was down on his foreknees at the front 


wheel well, gnawing and butting at the 
tire. The bus was rocking beneath the 
attack. M'kehla stood up from the window 
and chuckled: 

“Now Percy Without Mercy is stuck out 
there, with that belligerent billy goat 
between him and his breakfast cereal.” 

Heliotrope was a paraplegic pharma- 
cologist, beautiful and brilliant and а 
bathtub chemist of some underground re- 
nown. M'kehla always liked to pal around 
with her when he was on the outs with his 
wife—or when he was ош of chemicals. 
Percy was her ten-year-old. He had 
boarded with us at the farm occasionally, 
staying a week, a month, until one of his 
parents rounded him up. He was red- 
haired, intelligent and practically illiter- 
ate. 

“Hello, Montgomery.” Betsy came out 
of the bedroom, belting on her robe. “I’m 
glad to sce you.” 

She’d seen the two of us go weirding off 
together too many times to be too glad: 
But she allowed him a quick hug. 

“So.” She crossed her arms and scowled 
at him. “Charity got you gone instead of 
getting you breakfast? Smart girl. And 
she’s pregnant? She ought to get you neu- 
tered, if you ask те...” 

“Why, Miz Betsy, how you talk! Charity 
don’t want nothin’ that permanent.” He 
edged around her and shuffled toward the 
kitchen, the one huaracho flapping on the 
linoleum. “But speakin’ of breakfuss . - 
is you nice folks fetched in yet the aigs?” 

“The henhouse is that way,” Betsy 
pointed. “Past the billy goat." 

“Well, in dat case . . . where y'all keep 
de cawn flakes?” 

While Betsy ground the coffee, M’kehla 
and I went out to contain the goat and 
gather the eggs. Percy was delighted. His 
bright little face followed us from bus win- 
dow to window, hooting and jeering as we 
double-teamed the charging animal and 
manhandled him through the gate he’d 
butted open. While we were swinging the 
gate closed, he caught M’kehla a sharp 
hind hoof kick on the shin. I had to laugh 
as M’kehla danced and cursed and Percy 
shrieked from the bus. Even the peacocks 
and the chickens joined in. 

Out in the henhouse, M’kehla told me 
his story: 

“I don't know whether it was my Black 
Panther dealings or my white-powder 
dealings. Charity just says get the hell 
gone and give her some respite. I says, 
‘Gone itis.’ Naturally, I called Heliotrope. 
Long distance. She's up in Canada with 
Percy’s older brother, Lance, who's dodg- 
ing the draft, and a bunch of Lance's 
buddies of like persuasion. Heliotrope рег- 
suaded me to sneak Percy off from his old 
man in Marin and bring him up. Help her 
start a mission.” 

We had the chickens fed and quieted 
and all the eggs that the rats and the 

(continued on page 202) 


ы 


"For Pete’s sake! Haven't I had enough of Christmas Pasi?” 


THE LOVELINESS 
OF THE 
LONG-DISTANCE 
RUNNER 


article By WILLIAM JEANES 
THOSE WHO WRITE of automobiles 
habitually go into full drone about 
twisty roads, five-speed gearboxes and 
how all cars ought to feel like sports 
cars. Rarely do they give sufficient 
thought to cross-country cruising, an 
undertaking that’s undeniably 
all-American and a pastime that—to 
be properly enjoyed—requires the 
proper equipment. On the interstate 
system, the siren attractions of low- 
slung, buzzy sportsters and small, 
space-efficient economy sedans dwin- 
dle. The stock of large, powerful 
sedans—machines in which four peo- 
ple may travel confidently from New 
York to New Orleans without risking 
lower-back damage—soars to new 
highs. We’ve assembled 12 of these 
freeway fliers, chosen with only one 
real criterion (continued on page 188) 


twelve sexy, sizable 
machines in which 
to motor from sea 
to shining sea 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JEFF ZWART 


Everybodyand His 


BROTHER 


ETS TALK ABOUT the guy in the top 
bunk—the one who always borrowed 
your bike without permission and 
who embarrassed the hell out of you 
the first time you brought a girl home. 
You know, the kid who always in- 
sisted that it was his turn to get that 
last piece of chocolate cake. 

Of all the complicated relationships that make 
up a typical family, there’s something special 
about brothers. At once combative and loving, 
‚often equally competitive and supportive, for most 
of us it’s the relationship that defines our friend- 
ships with other men for years to come. And yet 
few brothers fall into any logical pattern. Some 
end up secing each other 
only at family funerals; oth- 
ers are constant companions 
for life. While most of us 
drift away from our par- 
ents toward independence, 
there's по formula that 


As a way of deciphering 
this most intense of male 
friendships, we asked a 
group of famous siblings— 
some of them as noted for 
their feuds as for anything 
else—to reflect on what it is 
to have, and to be, a 
brother. And despite the 
fact that their answers vary widely —not only from 
family to family but often within families as well— 
you'll find that much of what they say will strike a 
familiar chord in all of us who harbor that secret 
fear thatifwe could ever get Mom to fess up, she’d 
admit that we weren't the one she liked best. 


‘THE STALLONES (entertainers) 


SYLVESTER, 39: When things started disappearing 
from my room—shoes, sneakers, baseball gloves, 
everything—I knew I was not alone. I usually 
took it out on Frank physically. We were always 
fighting like cats and dogs. 

The meanest thing he ever did to me started this 
way: He dumped an entire quart of vanilla ice 


Keach, Carradine, 
Quaid, Everly, Hines, 
Mahre, Smothers, 
seems universal for brothers. Gatlin, Stallone—some tom our father—that and 
famous siblings tell 
how being brothers 
is anything but 
blood simple 


cream into a bowl and started eating it with a huge 
soupspoon. I had a hot temper, but I figured this 
time, I was going to be nice. So I asked him real 
nice, “Can I share your ice cream?” He had this 
fetish about anyone touching his food. touched 
it. So he yelled, “You diseased it!” and flipped it 
into my face. I hauled off and hit him, broke my 
hand on his head and fell down, so he started hit- 
ting me with a wooden clog. Meanwhile, my father 
took the ice cream into the living room and ate it. 
We both ended up in the hospital that night—me 
with a broken hand, Frank with throbbing head- 
aches and a mild concussion. This happened when 
І was about 21. 

We're equally hotheaded. But he’s irrational. 
I'm rational. 

I suppose Im more like 
Mom and Frankie is more 
like Dad. We both have 
our mother's bizarre sense. 
Whatever physical endur- 
ance we have, we got 


his straightforward attitude. 
Frankie has my mother's 
face. I have my father's face. 
It’s like the body parts were 
put in a blender and mixed 
up for both of us. 

But he got away with 
more; there's no question of 
that. Iwas a heavy bag with 
eyeballs. [ was difficult in school. Frankie just 
never went. He never tagged after me much when 
we were kids. Still, I would get him into trouble by 
making him my partner in crime—staying out 
late, getting into fights. He would go out and buy a 
snake. I got the idea to take it and put it into the 
swimming pool during a convention for school- 
teachers. 

We never really went after the same girl— 
maybe the same type. I remember once he got mad 
at me for going after his friend’s girl. I said, “Well, 
she ain't married to him.” He said, “Yeah, but Pm 
your brother.” 

Now we're pretty close; we talk about five times 
a week. He still sees (continued on page 191) 


JEAN PENN 


ILLUSTRATION BY BILL RIESER 


119 


break at Chicago's McCormick Place exposition center. She said 
she was working a booth at the International Marine Trade Show 
and Exhibit, but she forgot to tell us which one. We wandered around 
McCormick Place, which is approximately the size of a small planet, for an 


S HERRY ARNETT called and asked if we'd like to meet her on her lunch 


THE ST. LOUIS 
TUESDAYS 
WEDNESDAY Sl 


RARE SRERRY 


miss january walked off a college campus 
and into a modeling career 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


121 


hour until we noticed an aisle congested with gentlemen in blue blazers and 
white deck shoes. We figured we'd found her. Sherry and two other St. Louis 
models, Kelli Insani and Christine Gardner, were signing posters showing 
them posed in bikinis around three cans of Awlgrip paint. As the other women 
leaned over the cardboard table where they unrolled and signed a postera minute, 


As do most beautiful women, Sherry enhances 
her surroundings. On these pages, she makes 
a baby grand look grander; and on the 
right-hand page of our opening spread, she 
lends intrigue to The St. Louis Art Museum. 


“1 liked the fantasy [photographer] Rich- 
ard Fegley suggested: that I was a fabu- 
lously wealthy art collector who donated 
a few pieces to the museum, then savored 
the rest of my private collection al home. 


124 


we noticed that their white shorts carried the words OUR BOT- 
TOMS ARF AS GOOD AS OUR TOPs across the derrière. “No, it doesn't 
bother me,” Sherry said later over tuna sandwiches, “because 
it’s really not vulgar. The shorts are long walking shorts, and 
the slogan makes sense. We're promoting a new protective 


“It's not that I love modeling so much, but it 
opens up possibilities for a future 1 can really 
enjoy. It’s a shame to work at a job you don't 
enjoy if you have a choice—but if you have 
a choice, you should make the most of it.” 


paint for boats that will prevent crustaceans from sticking to the hulls. That 
means the boat has less resistance in the water and gets better gas mileage. If 
they’d asked me to come out here in the bikini 1 wore in the poster shot, that 
would have been different. 1 don’t get into that cheesecake stuff.” We coughed. 
“Well, I mean except for you guys at rLayeoY. If you could call that 


cheesecake.” Sherry's a serious woman. А hard-working 
woman. A very beautiful woman. The kind of woman who can 
have a mouth full of tuna, а dollop of mayonnaise on her lip 
and a straw in her mouth and still look gorgeous. She was born 
in Sterling, Illinois, but spent (text concluded on page 214) 


“The two shots below were in а 1937 
Rolls-Royce, which I loved. My father 
and brother collect old cars; we have a 
1923 Model T roadster. Old cars seem to 
have more personality than new ones.’ 


AYYNNYI SSIW 


PLAYMATE DATA SHEET 


мет: Ab msr: ӨЗ um: SU 
weicht: SS" eier (OY - 


BIRTH oare: [05/19 шанасы. I Amin, Minami  - 


AMBITIONS: 


PLAYBOY 


Ma 1% 


" A MM A ^ 
I Wap VAyrs. eld. LS ‘kan CAD yrs. old), 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES 


Alter suffering for weeks with vague pains, the 
young woman finally made an appointment with 
the town’s hunky new doctor, who was a ringer 
for Mel Gibson. 

“Now, Miss Kerwinkle,” the physician in- 
structed, “I’m going to put my hand on your 
back, and I want you to say ‘Eighty-eight.”” 

“Eighty-eight,” the woman purred. 

“Fine. Now I’m going to put my hand on your 
stomach, and I want you to say '"Éighty-eight. " 

“Eighty-cight.” 

“Very good. Now I’m going to put my hand on 
your chest, and I want you to say ‘Eighty- 
eight." 

"One, two, three, four. 


Great, just what I need,” she moaned as he 
brought home a new microwave oven. “One 
more thing that heats up instantly and goes ding 


in twenty seconds 


When the milkman found a note on one of his 
customers’ doors asking for 16 gallons instead оГ 
the usual quart, he rang the bell. 

“Sorry to bother you, ma'am," he said, “but 
are you sure you want sixteen gallons of milk 
today?” 


“Oh, yes,” said the lady of the house. “I’m 
going to take a milk bath.” 

“I see. Well, do you want it pasteurized?” 

“No, just up to my tits would be fine.” 


Two statues, a male nude and a female nude, 
had faced each other from their pedestals in the 
park for a century when the good fairy granted 
them one wish. They agreed that they wanted to 
become animated for an hour. 

With a wave of the good fairy’s wand, they 
dove into the surrounding underbrush. For the 
next 50 minutes, dirt, leaves and sticks flew in all 
directions. 

Coming up for air, the male turned to the 
female and said, “There are ten minutes left. 
What should we do?” 

“More of the same would be divine,” the 
woman replied. 

“Fine,” the man said. “Only this time, you 
hold down the pigeons and I'll shit on them." 


Darling,” a husband whispered to his wife late 
one night, “if I died, would you get married 
again?” 

“1 suppose so," was her hoarse reply. 

“Would vou and he sleep in the same bed?” 

“It’s the only bed in the house. We'd have 


о. 

“Would you make love to him?” 

“Honey,” the woman said patiently, “he 
would be my husband.” 

“Would vou give him my car?" 

“No,” she yawned. “He can't drive a stick 
shift.” 


What's exotic? Getting tickled with a feather. 
What’s kinky? Getting tickled with the whole 
chicken. 


What's exotic? Wearing a French tickler. 
What's kinky? Wearing French toast. 


ROUES he went to a brain-transplant center 


in the hope of raising his 1.О. 20 points. 

After a battery of physical and psychological 
tests, he was told by the center's director that he 
was an acceptable candidate. 

"Thats great!” the executive said. "But I 
understand this procedure can be really expen- 
sive. 

“Yes, sir, it can,” the director replied. “An 
ounce ofaccountant’s brain, for example, costs a 
thousand dollars; an ounce of an economist’s, 
two thousand; an ounce of a corporate presi- 
dent's, forty-five hundred. An ounce of TV pro- 
gramer brain is seventy-five thousand.” 

“Seventy-five thousand dollars for an ounce of 
TV programer brain? Why on earth is that?” 

“Do you have any idea,” the director asked, 
“how many TV programers we'd have to kill?” 


Heard a funny one lately? Send it on a post- 
card, please, lo 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. 


“I think the old fool’s about to lose his last vestige of credibility.” 


THE 
LAST 
| CLOSET 


essay by 


D. KEITH 
MANO 


Twas, ves, S/M Pride Day. Along 
Avenue they came—goose-stepping, 
duck-walking, frog-marching, ho! 
bling, crawling —3000 or so by police 
count, past Tiffany & Co., led by 
grand marshal Leon F. Christ, crucified 
on his own fiberglass cross, set tall in the 
back of a Ford pickup truck. You could 
hear them far off. Tink-clunk of shackle 
against chastity belt against spur. Paddles 
on flesh made a butcher-shop noise. And 
atonal, irregular yelping. Several hundred 
dominatrices, each in exquisite, sweatless 
leather despite the late-spring sun. Slave 
people behind, nipple and navel and even 
an occasional ear lobe pierced. Then 
floats, built with the care that fetishism 
alone can stimulate in this era of cheesy 
workmanship. Torquemada scene. Turk- 
ish prison. Nero. Witches burning per- 
ally to bottled propane. Apache 
initiation, Lubyanka, Eton. Black women 
for sale (proceeds to the Negro College 
Fund) on a flat-bed truck. Some gotten-up 
Marquis de Sade waving from his Lincoln 
convertible. Men on all fours, so aroused 
by submission that they were practically 
on all fives. lt wound, weird, toward 
Sheep Meadow in Central Park. Like a 
half-time show at the Pain Bowl. 
And signs: 
YOU CAN'T GET CLAP FROM A WHIP. 
ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS 
WAY BEYOND THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE, 
LATEX WORKERS OF AMERICA, LOCAL 1124. 
ALL WE'RE SAYING IS, GIVE AGONY A CHANCE. 
Near the Plaza Fountain, though, Fifth 
Avenue became a vicious gantlet. There 
was throwing: just an empty Tofutti cup at 
first. Then overpriced pretzels and half- 
eaten falafel. Those into lapidation took 
the pelting as a love gift. But Saturday- 
afternoon New York had gone righteous- 
mean: made uncomfortable by these 
consent-age men and women who, unlike 
you or me, needed to endure more than 
DRIVER ALLERGIC cabs, John Zaccaro and yet 
another Third World briefcase playing 
Prince at jet-planc-noise level on the sub- 
way. People who dared march for their 
inalienable right of inequality. Among 
policemen was felt much severe morale 
loss and doubt. Hey, what use clapping 
handcuffs on a masochist? How do you 
plead? On my knees, Your Honor. Inevita- 
bly, someone in a Gore-Tex safari suit 


in an age when few things 
are taboo, one sexual prefer- 
ence remains intensely 
private—the obsession 
known as slm 


PLAYBOY 


screamed, “Kill those fascist sufferers!” 
And the sidewalk mob, like some wonder- 
ful fantasy of group martyrdom, surged 
forward. 

When did it happen? Never, of course. 
And it never will. In this permissive time, 
one deviation remains as intolerable as the 
Horst Wessel Lied at Passover. So abhor- 
rent and frightening is S/M—so well con- 
nected in popular thought to Hitler, 
Genghis Khan, plantation cruelness, rape, 
pillage and general dismemberment— 
that a public figure who might espouse or 
just defend it would be cut dead quicker 
than someone with green-monkey disease. 
Both far right and far left, Moral Majori- 
tarian and radical feminist call time out to 
gob spit all over S/M. Even I—who have 
reported on transvestite culture, incest 
and cannibalism—am anxious writing 
about it. Yet S/M is there and ever was 
there: a terrific, incurable obsession that 
has bossed around some of the brightest, 
most productive and likable minds we 
have had. What, at last, is left in that 
notorious sexual closet? A lot of rope, 
wood, leather, metal and suspension 
equipment. The closet, in fact, looks like 
your basement workshop now. 

And that, pretty much, is how S/M peo- 
ple prefer it. They don't demand legisla- 
tion allowing them to wear a ball gag and 
iron thigh boots when in Federal employ- 
ment. They don't want Our S/M Heritage 
taught throughout the public-school sys- 
tem. They seldom evangelize. “All I ever 
wanted was freedom to do what I want 
behind closed doors with someone I care 
for,” said submissive Ed. “Without a 
stigma being placed on it.” Yet that stigma 
is there, and all the perfumes of Chanel 
won't sweeten it—even now, when 
dominance-fetish gear has become rather 
chic in ad layout and pop-music video. As 
we shall see, guilt (plus fear of exposure) is 
intertwined more strictly than corset lac- 
ing through S/M—unul it has become 
both cause and effect. At the Eulen- 
spiegel Society, an S/M conscious- 
ness-boosting group, members are on a 
first-name basis from day one—but that 
first name may be false. So hidden is the 
S/M population (from you, from one 
another, often even from self) that no con- 
fident estimate of number could ever be 
advanced. But we may assume it is signifi- 
cant in America and worth a thoughtful, 
charitable reassessment. And, so you can 
check some of your natural prejudice at 
the door, that reassessment should begin 
with language. 

Like, no way sadistic will ever become a 
halo word. Might better try to market 
swastika wallpaper. Not only are sadism 
and masochism unflattering, they are also. 
quite inaccurate. From here on I intend to 
use the generic brand name, D/S— 
domination and submission. All forms of 
S/M fall under that more inclusive expres- 
sion, D/S. But the reverse isn’t true. Lee, 


for example, loves to hire himself out as 
chauffeur or housemaid and be insulted 
whenever possible. His submission is 
purely psychological: no pain or sexual 
contact, thank you. The people I’m writ- 
ing about are so various, so brilliantly 
strange and—almost without exception— 
so harmless that to confine them by iron- 
maiden verbal usage in the domain of 
cruel or suicidal knuckle walkers is both 
misleading and, well, sadistic. 

Furthermore, I mean consensual, affec- 
tionate D/S master-slave theater mounted 
by two people inside relationships of some 
duration and structure for their mutual 
erotic heightening. This is not, as might be 
thought, rarer than a cat with insomnia. 
Professionalism aside, loving and consen- 
sual D/S couples are the rule, not the ex- 
ception. By that reading, of course, rape 
could never be D/S—no consent. Nor 
would wife-battering qualify. Husband 
will banjax spouse out of anger or frustra- 
tion, not for an erotic schmooze. Actually, 
despite those stool-softening tales you may 
have heard, I can recall no heterosexual 
D/S relationship that resulted even in acci- 
dental, let alone intentional, hospital-size 
harm or death. It just doesn't happen. 
And, beyond love or human respect, there 
is a pragmatic reason for this. Dominant 
partner and submissive partner become 
fiercely dependent on each other. In this 
secretive scene, a compatible negative 
charge for your positive pole is harder to 
locate than diaper services in 1986. When 
you find one, you don’t vivisect him or her. 
Because you want to play again tomorrow. 
And it’s tough making love in a full- 
body cast. 

. 

Take that couple, the one up оп stage. 
He has just fastened a hungry steel nipple 
clip to her left breast. In black garter belt 
and hose, she hangs like supple breadfruit 
from the hoist mechanism. He is nude 
except for leather jock and shoulder hol- 
ster full of torment hardware. They kiss: 
Strobe light will make 1000 still shots of 
their pleasure on the watching retina. He 
has stood back. The whip tongue lashes 
her again, again, a hot cinch belt. Her 
body is receptive, even confident. Yet it 
jerks, galvanic: current in a frog leg. Ear- 
lier, she has whipped him (was it bad for 
you, too, dear?). A largely male audience 
of three dozen or so is under arrest. This 
dramatic, ritualized Wednesday-night per- 
formance and teach-in at The Castle in 
New York City has been running almost as 
long as A Chorus Line. Jay and Diane 
Hartwell could be the Parents Magazine 
D/S couple. Through a 31-year marriage, 
which must've included more whipping 
than Willie Shoemaker ever gave out, they 
are without scar. Jay and Diane are still 
quite in love. And afterward, their eldest 
daughter will help serve nonalcoholic 
punch. The family that fays together stays 
together. 


Hartwell, though, isn’t their real name. 
He has an upper-bracket, spanking-clean 
executive job. If anyone at his firm asso- 
ciated Jay with grope suits and flagella- 
tion, he'd get the sack, and it wouldn't be 
made of leather. “I feel guilty about not 
coming out. 1 would, if it were possible to 
earn a living.” 

With gentleness, Diane answers, "You 
have a responsibility to the family. You 
know you can't." Yet, more than any other 
two people in America, they have taken up 
te D/S cross and put each other on it. 
Their Wednesday-night Chautauqua is 
half show, half discussion/meeting place, 
half outpatient ward. The shame-ridden 
come and receive comfort. On other 
nights, Diane will structure fantasy ses- 
sions at a price. But “This is, 1 think, the 
one house in New York that doesn't do sex. 
We'd be millionaires by now if we did, I 
choose not to. It’s bencath me.” 

From 1977 to 1981, Jay wrote, edited 
and distributed S-M Express, a newspaper 
that became both the Variety and the Work- 
bench of D/S. “1 felt someone should say 
something about us. We sold an average of 
75 percent of our print run. Our last three 
issues sold 95 percent. National Geographic 
doesn’t sell 95 percent. Gives you some 
idea of how desperate the need for straight 
information was." S-M Express featured 
Mr. Fixit advice on how to construct a 
pillory or a bondage yoke in your own 
garage. And Hartwell got away from 
the inhibitive language of Psychopathia 
Sexualis, replacing S/M with “sexual mas- 
tery” and “sexual submission" whenever 
possible. D/S is no place for careless-pilot 
error, so S-M Express carried more safety 
admonitions than OSHA has. There was 
also advertising, the kind that goes, “Не 
dom-TV, she sub-bi, into B & D, W/S, 
French, Swedish, English and gourmet 
cooking.” Jay and Diane tried to screen 
these personals personally. Their contact 
list was impressive, During the same peri- 
od, they had started a (purely social) D/S 
couples club in that unheard-of Sodom, 
Newburgh, New York. Twelve came to 
their first meeting. Within one year, 400 
had joined—some from as far away as 
Australia, England and Japan. 

And, always, Hartwell scourged the D/S 
sleaze-porn trade, which is distortive and 
sordid as an old vaginal strep culture 
Bondage in Buchenwald. Female Captives of 
the Rismg Sun. Whatever. But almost no 
other literature has been available. “I 
don’t think anybody should be used or 
abused." Even self-spoken “artistic” ef- 
forts like Story of O make his whip go Вас- 
cid. “I said to myself, "This thing must've 
been written by а bi-TV.' Because who on 
earth would want this plastic piece of shit, 
this O? Diane is sexually submissive to 
me, and I am absolutely responsible for 
her—though she is her own woman, and 
don’t let anybody think that you could 

(continued on page 178) 


PLAYBOY’S 
COLLEGE BASKETBALL 
PREVIEW 


our pre-season 
picks for the 
country's 

top teams 

and talent 


sports By ANSON MOUNT 


FOR MILLIONS of Americans—and even 
more millions in a hundred other coun- 
tries—basketball is the most entertaining 
of spectator sports. Their enthusiasm for 
the game is understandable. 

Why? First, the game is diversified. 
Teams may use a dozen playing styles, 
tempos, offensive and defensive strategies 
in any given game. 

And the game is simple. The average fan 
has no trouble with the rules. He can 
vicariously become both coach and offi- 
cial—and can second-guess both of them. 

Unlike football and baseball, basketball 
offers continuous action, and spectators are close to the players— 
close enough to get a size-15 shoe in the face in some cases. 

College basketball also benefits from something close to parity. 
In any year, there are 40 or 50 teams that could, witha little luck, 
win the N.C.A.A. tournament. Impossible dreams like Villa- 
nova's last year come true all the time. Who would have thought 
ten years ago that the East would be today’s hoops hotbed? 

The most important reasón for basketball’s enormous popular- 
ity may be the least recognized: This game is continually growing 
and adapting. The most obvious continuing changes of all are in 
ге and even ethnic origins of the plavers. Thirty years 
ago, a 65” player was a giant. Thirty years ago, the jump shot 
revolutionized the game. Now a 6'5" player is a guard and a set 
shot would be laughed at before it was blocked into the rafters. 

Before World War Two, black players on 
major college teams were few and far be- 
tween. German giants were unknown. 
Most players came not from the inner city 


MOUNT'S TOP 20 


Notre Dome's Ken Borlow 

rose to the occasion in lost 
season’s Notre Dame—Fordhom 
motch-up. Barlow, David Rivers 
and the rest of Digger Phelps's 
Irish figure to fly into 

the top ten in 1985-1986. 


In addition, college basketball’s fans 
will continue 10 grow in number and 
enthusiasm. An arena holding more than a 
few thousand spectators was rare a few 
years ago. Now huge basketball coliseums 
existor are being built all over the country. 

While we wait for this season’s excite- 
ment to rise, let’s take a look at the pros- 
pects of the teams around the nation. 


THE EAST 


The Big East was the overwhelmingly 
dominant conference last season, provid- 
ing three of the final four teams in the 
N.C.A.A. tournament. This year’s action 
won't be a replay, because those teams— 
Villanova, Georgetown and St. John’s—suffered painful gradua- 
tion losses. But all isn't lost for the Big East; Syracuse, last year's 
also-ran, could be the best team іп the country in 85-786. 

The Orange is гіре. Nine of Syracuse's top ten players return 
and are joined by two prime newcomers, Rodney Walker and 
Sherman Douglas. The main man is Pearl Washington, an offen- 
sive terror who cannot be stopped one on one. With experience, 
height, speed, quickness and a superb bench, Syracuse has an 
excellent shot at a final-four berth. 

Georgetown lost only two of last year's top ten players, but 
those two were superstars Patrick Ewing and Bill Martin. The 
remaining Hoyas, led by David Wingate and Michael Jackson, 
will have to regroup. They will be joined by a sterling recruit, 
center Johnathan Edwards. 

St. John’s losses were devastating, but 
there is still prime talent, especially in the 
persons of Walter Berry and Willie Glass. 
The most promising recruit is Marco 


but from rural backwaters. Today most of 
our superstars are black superstars, and 
such names as Blab and Schrempf are 
household words in some communities 
‘Tapping the enormous talent of the na- 
tion’s—and the world's—population has 
sent playing skills skyward. А generation 
ago, games in which both teams scored in 
the 40s—or less—were the norm. Ken- 
tucky won the national championship in 
1948 with a 31 percent shooting percent- 
age. Its opponents averaged 23.2 percent. 
Today's walk-ons do better than that. The 
average shooting percentage of all the 
major college teams is close to 50 percent. 
And the game will continue to improve. 


1. Syrocuse 11. Maryland 
2. North Corolina 12. Auburn 


3. Michigon 13. UCLA 

4. Duke 14. Georgetown 
5. Illinois 15. Memphis Stote 
6. Georgia Tech 16. Arkansas 

7. Notre Dame 17. 
8. Lovisiono Stote 18. 
9. Oregon State 19. 
10. Kansos 


Lovisville 
Washington 
Oklohomo 
20. Texos A & M 


Possible Breakthroughs 
St. Joseph's, lowo, Nevado—Las Vegas, 
Houston, Navy, Pepperdine, Aloboma- 
Birminghom, Brodley, New Mexico. 


Baldi, a massive center out of Milan. 

Pittsburgh will be the most improved 
team in the Big East. The Panthers return 
last year's top five scorers and two of the 
best rebounders. Pitt remains a young 
team, but these Panthers will benefit 
greatly from a year's added experience. 
Best of the youngsters is forward Charles 
Smith, who was one of the nation's top 
freshmen last year. 

Villanova's past success has been due to 
a combination of discipline and tenacious 
defense. Those virtues may not be enough 
this year—last season's three best players 
have departed, and it will take time for the 
younger players and recruits to master 


ns 


John Salley 
forward 
Georgia Tech 


Dave Hoppen 
center 
Nebraska 


Len Bias 
forward 
Maryland 


Steve Mitchell 
guard- 
б) Alabama Birmingham 


Shawn өт RICHARD тін 


7 


PLAYBOY’S 
1985-1986 
ALL-AMERICA 
TEAM 


Johnny Dawkins 
guard 
Duke 


ж” 
ГЕ — | 
Ж Pearl Washington 
guard 
Syracuse 


Brad Daugherty 
| center 
North Carolina 


Chuck Persen 
forward Я 4 


Auburn 


Y | \ 


Rollie Massimino 7 

i Coach of the Year" Kenny Walker / 
Villanova forward 

Ke tucky.. 


PLAYBOY 


coach Roland Massimino's versatile de- 
fensive system. Fortunately for fans of Cin- 
derella Villanova, Massimino harvested 
a super crop of recruits. 

We select our Coach of the Year each 
scason in recognition of the outstanding 
job he has done in the recent past. This 
time, it was no contest: Roland Massimino 
took a lightly regarded team all the way to 
last year's N.C.A.A. championship. 

Boston College's success last winter was 
a matter of smarts and mental toughness. 
This time around, three of BC's top five 
players are gone. The major problem in 
pre-season drills will be finding a new 
point guard. Freshman Dana Barros will 
probably get the nod. 

This should be an enjoyable season for 
Seton Hall supporters. The Pirate squad 
was green and shallow last year but is now 


battle-hardened. Three premium recruits 
(Daryll Walker, John Norton and Gerald 
Greene) will provide needed depth im- 
mediately and promise big things in the 
future. 

The top gun at Connecticut is guard 
Earl Kelley. Sad to say, he doesn't have an 
abundance of backup guns. Incoming 
freshmen must quickly fill the gaping holes 
around Kelley in Connecticut's line-up. 

First-year Providence coach Rick Pitino 
inherits a squad that lost three of last 
year’s starters and is sorely in need of a big 
man in the middle, Reconstruction will 
begin with three promising recruits, two of 
whom are from the state of Georgia, never 
before a recruiting haven for Providence. 

St. Joseph’s has an excellent shot at the 
Atlantic Ten title. Only one of last year’s 
stars is missing, the Honk defense is su- 


THE BEST 
OF THE REST 


(Ай of whom cre likely to make someone's All-American team) 


FORWARDS: Reggie Miller (UCLA), Donny Manning (Kansas), Ken Borlow (Notre 
Dame), Nikita Wilson (Louisiana State), Randy Allen (Florida State), Billy Thompson 
(Louisville), Walker Lambiotte (North Carolino State), Kenny Battle (Northern Illinois), 
Winston Crite (Texas A&M), Rafael Addison (Syrocuse), David Wingate (Georgetown) 


CENTERS: Olden Polynice (Virginio), Andrew Long (Arkansas), Tite Horford (Louisi- 


опо State), Roy Torpley (Michigan) 


GUARDS: David Rivers (Notre Dame), Mark Price (Georgia Tech), Kenny Smith 
(North Carolina), Bruce Douglas (illinois), Tommy Amaker (Duke), Doug Altenberger 
illinois), Anthony Jones (Nevoda-Los Vegas), Anthony Watson (San Diego State), 
Andre Turner (Memphis State), Michael Jackson (Georgetown) 


TOP NEWCOMERS 


{Incoming freshmen and transfers who will make big contributions to their teams) 


Tita Horford, center 
Muhammad Akbor, guard 
Ed Horton, forward 
Jerome Richordson, gu 
Archie Marshall, forward . 
Pervis Ellison, forword 
Seon Elliott, forword. 
Toney Mack, guard 
Ron Roberts, forward 

Todd Lichti, guard . 

Eric Cooper, guard. 

Tony Kimbro, forward 

Doug Roth, center . 

Marco Baldi, center 
Johnathan Edwards, center 
Tom Lewis, forward. . 
Michael Jones, forward . 
Danny Ferry, forward 

Glen Rice, forward ....... 
Tom Hammonds, forward - 
Roy Swogger, guard . . . 


+ -Louisiana State 


perb and the reserves are both talented 
and plentiful. Best of all, guard Wayne 
Williams—a gifted athlete who missed all 
of last year with an injury —will be back in 
top form. 

Temple's two dominant players of last 
season have departed, and whats left 
looks young and green. There is plenty of 
raw talent on hand, however, including 
three blue-chip recruits. Best of the veter- 
ans is guard Nate Blackwell. If they get 
their act together fast, Temple could chal- 
lenge for the conference championship. 

West Virginia’s most daunting obstacle 
in matching last season's impressive 
record is settling an unsettled center posi- 
tion. Veteran Darrell Pinckney will be bat- 
tling redshirt Wade Smith for the starting 
job. An adequate Mountaineer must also 
come forward to replace last year’s super- 
star forward Lester Rowe. 

‘There is good reason for optimism at St. 
Bonaventure. The Bonnies are blessed 
with experience, depth and mature leader- 
ship. The keys to success this year lie in 
improved rebounding and an avoidance of 
last year’s injury plague. 

George Washington was also bitten by 
injuries last season, Under new coach John 
Kuester, this season's prospects аге 
brighter. Ten lettermen return. The Colo- 
nials won't have great size, but they will 
be experienced and quick. 

This ought to bea pleasant campaign at 
Duquesne. Last year's turmoil (criminal 
charges against four players, all of whom 
were eventually acquitted) has subsided. 
АП of Duquesne's best players return, and 
they'll be bolstered by premier freshman 
point guard Brian Shanahan. 

This is the rebuilding year Rutgers has 
been dreading. Graduation losses were 
heavy. The best returning player, powerful 
center Lloyd Moore, will become the main 
man if he learns to stop eating and start 
rebounding. 

Rhode Island will be the most improved 
team in the Atlantic Ten. Nine of last sea- 
son's top ten return, and they join five 
solid recruits. Give coach Brendan Ma- 
lone's rebuilding project two more years 
and the Rams could threaten the confer- 
ence biggies. 

Massachusetts will have difficulty re- 
placing last ycar's three best Minutemen. 
The good news is that recruits Fitzhugh 
Tarry and John Milum could solve the 
Minutemen's need for big men. The bad 
news is that Massachusetts will be lucky 
to finish out of the Atlantic Ten basement. 

Penn State was pathetic last year (eight 
wins) and is getting even worse. The Lions 
will again be very young. If morale im- 
proves, maybe they can avoid midseason 
defections by some of their better players 
this season. But what the hell—it’s a foot- 
ball school. 

Tona lost several key players, but so 
many quality backups return that the 

(continued on page 236) 


“Sir, could I interest you in funding my program?” 


143 


THE UNIVERSAL 
KARMIC 
CLEARINGHOUSE ,, 


fiction 


By ROBERT SHECKLEY 


we deduct a planet's bad karma 
and convert the good karma into intraversal luck units. 
it's the same as banking anywhere 


ARRY ZIMMERMAN was ап adver- 
tising copy writer for Batten & 
Finch in New York. One day 
when he got home from work, 
he found a plain white envelope 
in the middle of a small desk in 
his living room, where it had no 
business being. 

Inside the envelope was a rectangle of 
shiny plastic. Written on it were the words 
KARMIC BANK VISITOR'S PASS. GOOD FOR ONE 
HOUR. There was a square printed in one 
corner of the rectangle 

Musing, Zimmerman picked up a pencil 
and checked the square. Suddenly, he 
wasn’t in New York anymore. 

With no sense of transition, Harry Zim- 
merman found himself in front of an old- 
fashioned gray-stone office building. It 
stood by itselfin the middle of a wide green 
lawn, Huge bronze gates were open. Above 
them, chiseled into the granite, were the 
words KARMIC BANK & CLEARINGHOUSE. 

Zimmerman waited, then walked inside. 

There were rows and rows of desks. 
Men were examining piles of documents, 
making entries in ledger books and then 
piling the documents into wire baskets at 
the sides of the desks. Messengers took 
away the documents and brought in new 
ones. 

As Zimmerman approached, a docu- 
ment slipped from its pile and sailed to the 
floor. 

He picked it up and looked at it. It was 


made of a shimmery, transparent sub- 
stance and showed a richly colored 
three-dimensional image of a landscape 
with figures. As he moved the document, 
the view changed. He saw a city street and 
then a boat оп a river and then a lake with 
hazy blue mountains behind it. Other 
images slid past: elephants moving across 
a wide, dusty plain, people talking with 
one another at a traffic intersection, a 
deserted beach with dusty palm trees. 

“Careful!” the clerk said and snatched 
the document out of his hand. 

“I wasn't going to hurt it,” 
said. 

“I wasn't worried about it," the clerk 
said. “1 was worried about you. Turn one 
of those things the wrong way and it can 
pull you into its construct. Then we'd have 
trouble getting you back.” 

The clerk seemed friendly enough. He 
was a fussy-looking middle-aged man, 
balding in front, dressed in a pearl-gray 
morning coat, sharply creased pinstriped 
trousers and gleaming black shoes. 

“What are those things?” Zimmerman 
asked, indicating the shiny documents. 

“I see that you're new here. They're 
X-two-D invoices—sort of instant cosmic 
balance sheets. Each of them records a 
planet’s karmic status at a given moment, 
After deducting the bad karma, we convert 
the good karma into Intraversal Luck 
Units at the going rate of exchange and 
deposit the (continued on page 187) 


Zimmerman 


ILLUSTRATION BY KETHHARING 


145 


daith was 


in a kenyan 
odyssey, fashion model 
iman rediscovers her roots 


BEAUTY 
AND 
THE BEASTS 


SOMEWHERE IN the darkness outside, a big cat roared. The 
air was cool and still. Photographer Peter Beard was 
nervous. It wasn’t the lions that bothered him, since 
Beard is on speaking terms with several big cats. It was 
the impending thunderstorm and the 60-mile-per-hour 
gusts that would hurtle across the Loingalani plain, 
threatening to topple the tents or, at the very least, fill 
them with icy rain. And when the storm finally broke, 
somewhere between Nairobi and Samburu, it was more 
ferocious than Beard had feared. He couldn't get to 
sleep. Iman, by contrast, welcomed the winds like an old 
friend. She was, after all, home. Ten years as a famous 
fashion model in New York hadn’t erased her familiarity 
with this land’s cold, windy nights and infernally hot 
days. Indeed, despite Kenya’s inhospitable weather, 
Iman found it a very humane place compared with New 
York City, where she lives with her husband, pro basket- 
ball star Spencer Haywood. “Manhattan,” she says, “is 
not a place to live. But if you want high-voltage energy. it 
is the best place. Still, if you live there long, you will get 
old before your time. The stresses will hit you. Every- 
thing is 100 fast.” 

In Kenya and neighboring Somalia, where Iman was 
born, everything is slow. The nomads (pictured with 
their prodigal daughter at left) travel by foot and by 
camelback. In fact, if the myth Peter Beard created 
around Iman were believed, she should not have sur- 
vived culture shock. But the truth about Iman is a bit 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY PETER BEARD 


OTE OSE 


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E К Hi 22 
= Eolo bay =) аз" 
amd 


Pas Pudel e 


а. pee (171 
e DA 
VG: var ор A: Итал 

лад 


ARA = \ VA у 


more complex. 

Beard said he had discov- 
егей her in the northeastern 
region of Kenya, working as 
a goatherd; she was 6717, 
unable to speak English and 
presumably possessed of few 
social graces other than her 
God-given beauty. Beard, 
a wily connoisseur of all 
things African, said he per- 
suaded this lovely goatherd 
to let him make her a fash- 
ion model; a Nubian Eliza 
Doolittle, so to speak. 

In fact, Iman is a diplo- 
mat's daughter with a col- 
lege education in political 
science and fluency in five 
languages. She's 5/9". But 
Beard's promotional meth- 
ods were effective. The New 
York press raved about 
Iman as high fashion’s first 
black African model. Now, 
after a decade оГ regu- 
lar appearances in Vogue, 
Harper's Bazaar and other 
fashion magazines around 


149 


2 pm 

ТАРА 
> 

% 


t 

E the world, she’s a widely 
Srecognized exotic perennial, 
rather, as she says, “like a 
black-cashmere sweater— 
never out of fashion.” 

After ten years in Amer- 
ica, Iman was invited to 
return to Kenya to be pho- 
tographed by Beard. Film- 
ing with the eccentric 
photographer had its chal- 
lenges. Passionate about 
wildlife, Beard insisted on 
close-up shots with real 
cheetahs, temperamental 
camels and amorous gere- 
nuks (left). The hot, deso- 
late shores of Lake Rudolf 
provided the background 
for several of the pictures, as 
did the dusty plains near the 
Amboseli Game Reserve, 
playground for Kenya’s 
dwindling elephant popula- 
tion (right). Many shots 
were taken in Beard's tented 
camp on the outskirts of 
Nairobi, named the Hog 
Ranch out of respect for the 
horde of wart hogs that 
gathers each day to pig out 
on Beard’s food scraps. The 
rustic camp affords а fine 
view of the Ngong Hills, of 
which you can see more in 
Out of Africa, a new Univer- 
sal film in which Iman 
appears in one scene with 
Meryl Streep. There, she 
modeled her latest contribu- 
tion to camp couture, ап 
African kikoi. The tradition- 
ally striped cloth is so versa- 
tile, she says, “It can be 
worn ten thousand ways.” 
She hopes to begin market- 
ing kikois in America before 
the end of 1986. 

Life at the Hog Ranch 
wasn't all fun for the tawny, 
leggy model. Right after 
Iman had posed with a 
giraffe (overleaf, top left), it 
butted her with its horns; 


A MAN who attempted to kill 

himself has been jailed for 

^ eight months by Nakuru Resi- 

dent Magistrate, Mr. William 
Tuivot. 

Before a Nakuru court was 


* John Mutui Kamau who 


pleaded guilty to the charge 
that on August 25, this year, 
at Free Area within Nakuru 
district, he attempted to coi 


= mit suicide by hanging 


КООШ, 


P 


is 


б 
mu 


ану 


several days earlier, when 
Beard insisted she stand 
beside a camel, the beast 
became cantankerous and 
tried to bite her. 

Beard, of course, is some- 
thing of a madman. He has 
а reputation for toying with 
the bizarre and the dan- 
gerous. He takes perverse 
delight in allowing a giant 
beetle to crawl up his face 
(top left). Іп a more practi- 
cal mood, he choreographed 
a lion attack for a pictorial 
in Vogue. Says Iman, “Peter 
shot a scene where the lion 
was climbing all over the 
trainer and didn't seem to 
notice that the animal 
looked hungry. I did. I was 
standing beside Peter, and 
the lion looked at me as if 
I might be lunch. I left. 
Peter's a bit crazy.” 

Actually, Beard just had 
his own way of doing things. 
The handwriting and draw- 
ings you see around Iman’s 
photographs аге Beard's 
personal diary of her return 
home. In a style that has 
become a trademark, he has 
included newspaper clip- 
pings, beer-bottle labels and 
other assorted souvenirs of 
daily life in Africa. As for 
Iman, she needs no post- 
cards. Although she has 
returned to Manhattan, her 
memories of her homeland 
are indelible. In fact, she 
says she may someday re- 
turn there permanently. “Al- 
though I’m a model and an 
American citizen,” she says, 
“1 am a Somali first.” 


WATT АЛ god —— 
orace Awori ÚSACKED fr. Y 
Horace 4 , BR EA 


Cerra mama wy IMA N+ Kit 
5 шын ОА 


(кеміте, 
ая 


‘ipient is sale ж 
‘ville, Kentucky: 
lon. the world's „у 
artificial һе аған 
ager in ЩЙ 


ішік 
ding t Mr fe 
‘aman fos Humana Inc 


iree-year-old in 
iracle escape 


: A three-year-old girl whe 
14 stories down a 
was saved by а pil 
тама. Quide Stone, escaped 
Ir minor injuries after 
ding the night im the 


156 


you know trendy cuisine 
has gone too far 
when precious chefs 
start messing with 
your french fries 
and onion rings 


HATS 


THE DEAL WITH FOOD? 


FOOD нл$ ALWAYS rated very high on the list 
of things people like to cat. You would 
think, therefore, that in this plentiful coun- 
try of ours, food would be in evidence on 
almost every dinner table. Sadly, this is no 
longer true. The fact is, there are now only 
two days out of the year, Thanksgiving 
and Christmas, when we can be assured of 
secing food on a dinner table—and that’s 
because our grandmothers have stub- 
bornly held the line and manage to serve 
food on these holidays in bitter opposition 
to Duane, Colin, Trevor, Randall and 
America’s other precious chefs who plan to 
stamp out food by the year 1990. This 
being the case, I look forward more than 
ever to Thanksgiving and Christmas din- 
ner, because I know I can count on some- 
thing to eat: a nice roasted turkey without 
kiwi, dressing without radicchio, giblet 
gravy without prawns, mashed potatocs 
without grapes and green beans cooked in 


salt pork instead of Giorgio perfume. Real 
food, in other words. Food, hold the fag. 

Yeah, I get angry about food today. 
That's because I grew up on food. I never 
ate a peanut-butter-and-carambola sand- 
wich, OK? I never said, “Meemaw, can 1 
have some more of that jicama-and-babaco 
salad you do so well?" And if a wrinkled, 
purple leaf—a salad savoy, they call it— 
had ever made its way into my grand- 
mother’s kitchen, it would have had its ass 
kicked by a good old American head of 
lettuce. 

It’s clearly time for food eaters to take a 
tough stand on the issue of food. If we 
don’t, a hearty meal in another couple of 
years will consist of a mesquite-smoked 
quail’s egg sitting on a little bed of tomato 
ice, Which brings to mind an important 
question: Who the fuck ever ate a tomato 
snow cone? 


When I say (continued on page 244) 


humor 


By DAN JENKINS 


ILLUSTRATION BY SANDRA MENDLER 


= %, n t 
"^ | 


23 wt NM" N 
ұрар? 7. s hen A 


20 QUESTIONS: JAY LENO 


america's hardest-working club comic celebrates 
life on the road and laughter in the bedroom 


ay Leno is the Mort Sahl of the “Gilli- 

дап» Island” generation. Through his 
monthly guest appearances on NBC-TV’s 
“Late Night with David Letterman,” he has 
forged а reputation as Letterman's most 
‘accomplished foil. Letterman has even con- 
fessed that he borrowed Leno's wry comic 
stance when both were embryonic stand-ups 
working the California club circuit in the 
Seventies. In addition to having the most 
Prominent jaw line in show business, Leno 
maintains a dizzying travel schedule that 
keeps him away from his home in Hollywood 
ten months a year. Appropriately enough, 
Bill Zehme met the comedian at O'Hare Air- 
port, where he was stopping en route to a col- 
lege gig in Dubuque, Iowa, and went along 
for the ride. He reports, “Jay is the kind of 
‘guy who's proud to fly coach. He travels very 
light and has a knack for perceiving the hor- 
rible truth. As we boarded our puny twin- 
engine job for the short flight, he noted that 
this was the kind of plane that, if it crashed, 
would merit coverage only on cable news.” 


PLAYBOY: You began your career doing 
stand-up comedy in strip joints. Just how 
big were you with the strippers? 

LENO: Oh, big, big. Strip joints are strange. 
I worked in Boston at the Teddy Bear 
Lounge, the Kit Kat Club and one place 
called Nude—just Nude. I was a stupid 
college kid with long hair and glasses, and 
T'd stand on the stage doing whiny, awful 
material, like, “Hey, Nixon—what a jerk! 
Heh-heh-heh. . - ." In one club, right 
behind me, there were two naked girls tak- 
ing sponge baths in giant champagne 
glasses. Their names were Lili Pagan and 
Inecda Mann, and they were actually 
ladies in their 40s who talked about mak- 
ing their big money right after World War 
‘Two. They were very maternal. I remem- 
ber being on stage when this guy in the 
audience started swearing at me. One of 
the girls climbed out of her glass, went 
over and punched him in the face, knock- 
ing him out. She turned to me and said, 
“Go ahead, deary, do your act.” 1 said, 
“Thank you. Naaaaah, Nixon, what a 
jerk” 


2. 


рглүвоү: On your list of gigs from hell, 
name a couple you'd like to forget. 

LENO: Well, they're funny in retrospect. I 
had a job at a college in Upstate New York 
where a sorority paid me $75 for doing 
three nights in Study Hall C—an actual 
study hall. There was a little index card on 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARK HANAUER 


the door that said, TONIGHT: JAY LENO. It 
didn’t say comedian or anything. I went in 
and found a bunch of kids with their heads 
down, studying for exams. I started doing 
my act, holding my mike with one hand 
and a speaker with the other. The kids 
were putting their hands over their ears, 
shouting, “Shut up! Why don’t you just get 
out of here and go home? You're not even 
funny—you're stupid!” I finish the show 
anyway—the worst—and go back the 
next night. The same kids are still there, 
studying. Same thing the third night. It 
was terrible. They may still be there. 

Another time, I was hired by a guy who 
had invented a new product called 
Fresh’n, which he thought would revolu- 
tionize personal hygiene: moist towelettes 
used to combat, as the box said, “embar- 
rassing rectal odor." They were like Wet- 
Naps, you know? Just the most disgusting 
product. He had 200,000 of them sitting in 
a warehouse in New Jersey, so he got 
together 75 Liggett Rexall representatives 
and had me tell them 1 was Bob Carlyle, 
his director of sales. I went out, made a lit- 
tle pitch, then did my act. People were 
going to sleep. This guy was sweating bul- 
lets. Afterward, he said, “OK, that, of 
course, was not my director of sales but 
Jay Leno—a professional comedian. Now, 
who wants to sign up for a free Fresh’n dis- 
penser kit?” People began filing out of the 
room, and the guy was in tears, pleading, 
“Just take a dozen! Put "em in your stores! 
No charge! Puh-leeze!” 


3. 


PLAYBOY: Have you ever let hecklers win? 
LENO: Гт not adversarial on stage. I ac- 
tually like a good heckler who can keep 
pace and make the show funnier. But 
heckling isn’t always that cerebral. I used 
to work a place in Revere Beach, 
Massachusetts, and the owner warned me 
to wear old clothes my first time there. I 
said, “But I want to look пісе.” He said, 
“Yeah, well, we get a lot of wise guys who 
like to put out their cigarettes on you as 
you walk up to the stage.” I look at the 
guy and realize he's got burn marks on his 
jacket. So as I’m being introduced that 
night, I can feel these pangs up and down 
my sleeves, and I'm going, “Ow! Ow!” 
People would smoke the butts down to 
about a quarter of an inch and then flick 
them at me. So these lighted cigarettes are 
hitting me in the face, like little missiles. 
Tm watching my jacket burn right off my 
back and all I hear from all around is 
“Har-har-har.” I don’t know how this cus- 


tom started, but it was like one of those 
Indian trial-by-fire things. Tough club. 


4. 


PLAYBOY: Seasoned viewers of Late Night 
know that no guest has better rapport with 
David Letterman. What's your secret? 
LENO: I always try to be prepared. I 
learned a long time ago that no one cares 
about what you have to say on a talk show. 
Nobody wants to see Rodney Dangerfield 
come out and go, “Аһ, yeah, I’ve been get- 
ting my life together; things have been 
going well.” If you're a comedian, all they 
want you to do is be funny. Because Dave 
and I are friends, there is that much more 
pressure to really have bang-bang-bang 
stuff all the time. People don't realize what 
a good stand-up comedian David is. 1 
remember when he first went to The Com- 
edy Store, he had a big red beard and 
drove up in his pickup truck. He looked 
like Mr. Hoosier. But he was great from 
the start, with very clever material; never 
any cheap shots or Dolly Parton jokes. 
David and I essentially come from the 
same place, comedically, so we can have a 
good time. It’s fun watching him squirm. 
While I can give Dave zingers once in a 
while, 1 could never be on The Tonight 
Show and go, “Hey, Johnny, nice tie!” 
With Carson, you're in awe. 


5. 


PLAYBOY: Let's get to the bottom of this, 
once and for all: Do you have an evil 
twin? 

LENO: Ray Peeno is his name. He's out 
there functioning in day-to-day society. 
People, I’m sure, are completely unaware. 
I should explain the origins of evil twin- 
ism. Every TV show suffers from it: Com- 
monly, the star of the show has an episode 
with an evil twin. This is true. 1 was 
watching Simon & Simon a couple of 
months ago, and not only onc but both of 
them had evil twins who had met before. 1 
mean, what are the mathematical odds of 
that happening—quadruple to one? My 
favorite was the Knight Rider episode 
where Michael Knight is forced to do bat- 
Че with his evil twin. I knew it was his real 
twin, because this guy couldn't act, either. 


6. 


PLAYBOY: Defend The Three Stooges. 

LENO: I like The Three Stooges. But this is 
preordained. The factis, all men laugh at 
the Stooges and all women think they're 
shitheads. That's the basic difference be- 
tween the sexes, (continued on page 223) 


159 


тн 


Е 


Y E 


A R 


from our quarterly reporter, an annual accounting of boons 


and blunders from the world of finance 


INETEEN eighty-five was 
N: дел a diae m 
other words, it was 


very much like 1984, 1983— 
how much time have you got? 

"The Federal deficit was dealt 
with forcefully (when it came to 
Amtrak), but a lot of little pro- 
grams, such as Social Security 
and defense, kept growing with 
inflation. America went deeper 
than ever into hock. 

We became, in 1985, a net 
debtor nation for the first time 
since World War One, owing 
foreigners more than they owed 
us. A record number of banks 
folded; hundreds more seemed. 
poised to follow. It was not a 
good year to be a farmer. Or a 
farmer's banker. 

Where once we had had 
visions of financial enslavement 
to the Saudis, it grew in- 
creasingly apparent that our 
benevolent masters would 
instead have names like Taka- 
hashi Uwukfomena. The Japa- 
nese may have lost the battle, 
Teddy White pointed out on 
the cover of The New York Times 
Magazine, but, 40 years later. 
they seemed to be winning the 
war. It began to look as though 


By 


ANDREW TOBIAS 


THE YEAR OF DEBT 


our strategy of an economy 
built on a vast base of legal tal- 
ent just might not outcompete 
theirs, shy on lawyers but drip- 
ping with engineers. 

But there was lots of good 
news, too: low inflation, rela- 
tively low interest rates, a 
decline, finally, in the strength 
of the dollar (which could even- 
tually help right the trade 
imbalance), an all-time high 
for the Dow Jones industrials 
and a bonanza for the limited 
partners in a crazy-ass tax shel- 
ter that couldn't possibly work 
but did: Treasure Salvors, Inc. 

It was also a boom year for 
specialty plastic fabrication: 

* Visa and MasterCard began 
sending out cards with holo- 
graphic images to foil coun- 
terfeiters. All across Ámerica, 
cardholders were tilting their 
new cards this way and that, 
like opals, trying to get the 
image into focus. 

«Sears, the well-known 
stock- (Dean Witter) and real- 
estate (Coldwell Banker) bro- 


ker, launched its Discover Card, 
bought a bank and was ex- 
pected to solicit IRA deposits. 

* American Express began 
offering free baggage insurance, 
at a cost to itself of around a 
dime per cardholder, and 
upped its basic annual fee by 
ten bucks. The baggage policy 
included carry-on items. But 
not all carry-on items. Among 
the carry-on items it did not 
include were coats, hats, cash, 
tickets, silverware, linens, 
plants, art objects, “cars, boats 
or other conveyances” (and 
you wonder why those baggage 
racks are always full!) and arti- 
ficial limbs. Hop off the plane 
without your artificial leg and 
you hop alone. 

* Citicorp Diners Club began 
its push to take over the world, 
offering a card for $55 that hap- 
pened to be the same color as 
Amex’ $250 platinum card— 
silver—and that offered free 
gilts. The more you charged, 
the more you'd get, analogous 
to the frequent-flier mileage- 
accumulation games, 

These reached such magnifi- 
cent proportions in 1985 that 
while Pan Am was on strike, in 


March, it gave away bonus 
miles for flying its competitors. 
A single low-fare New York- 
Miami round trip—flown on 
Eastern—earned one traveler 
6791 Pan Am miles (and 4388 
on Eastern). 

Later in the year, TWA cred- 
ited hijackees full mileage for 
the four trips flight 847 made 
between Algeria and Lebanon. 
(One hijackee, incidentally, 
was put in the bizarre position 
of having to fill up the plane’s 
6000-gallon fuel tank, twice, 
with her Shell credit card.) 

The frequent-flier concept 
spread from the airlines and 
car-rental companies to the 
hotel chains (every seven 
nights in an Intercontinental 
Hotel won you a trip to 
Europe—a utility-rate lawyer 
holed up at the Mark Hopkins 
earned three of them in less 
than a month) and to the phone 
company (reach out and touch 
enough people and AT&T gave 
you a discount on a blender). 


IN 


First thing, I made my 52000 
1985 IRA contribution on Jan- 
uary second, to get it working 
from the start. But to get a 
jump on things and scoop up 
some tax-selling bargains, I ac- 
tually called my broker Decem- 
ber 21, 1984, and told him to 
buy 4000 shares of Compucorp 
at 50 cents each. Compucorp's 
chief virtue was that, down 
from eight dollars, at least in 
part on heavy year-end tax sell- 
ing, it was still in business. I 
could buy it December 21, 
because stock purchases settle 
five business days later: Janu- 
ary 2, 1985. 

By mid-January, released 
from tax-selling pressure, poor 
little Compucorp (Lord knows 
what they do, but it couldn't 
be much) bobbed back up to 
1%, where I sold the 4000 
shares—$6000. 

The six Gs I reinvested ina 
little number called OEA, on 
the Amex, at $17. They're in 


BEST BUSINESS YARN 


Funny Money, by Mork 
Singer—the outlandish story of 
Penn Square Bank, led by pres- 


ident “Beep” Jennings ond stor 
salesman "Monkeybroins" Patter- 
son, a team that sonk the bank 
and with it, it could be argued, 
Continental Illinois. 


MONE Y 


HOW I INVESTED MY 1985 IRA 52000 


electronics and military sys- 
tems, and the stock ran to 24 by 
the end of the month. 

For February, 1 moved my 
88500 into National Semicon- 
ductor puts. With puts, you 
hope a stock will go down, and 
National Semi did, beautifully, 
from 14 to 10 and a fraction by 
March. 

1 took my $42,000—you get 
a lot of leverage with puts— 
and went for a company, In- 
formatics, that sounds like ¡ts 
made out of toothpicks but that 
actually trades on the New 
York Stock Exchange. It had a 
nice smell to it, at 17, and an 
even nicer smell at 24 the зес- 
ond week of April. (The trick 
with technology stocks, I find, 
is to catch that 17-10-24 
updraft.) 

So now we were talking 
$59,000, which includes com- 
missions, because my broker 
had stopped charging me any. 
When I bought anything, he'd 
just buy a little for himself 
first. 

Usually, I just bought one 
thing at a time, but in mid- 
April I was torn between buy- 
ing Ames Department Stores 
at 35 and shoring Apple 
Computer at 23, so I did some 
ofeach. (You can't short a stock 
in an IRA account, so I bought 
the puts.) I kicked out the 
Ames in mid-June at 50 and the 


Apple puts, also in mid-June, 
with the stock at 14%. 

July and August are tradi- 
tionally slow months for me 
and my money, so 1 parked my 
whole май, $212,000, in Pan 
Am 15 percents of 1998. Those 
are the convertible bonds 
secured by a bunch of aircraft. 
І figured I'd make a couple of 
months’ interest, and if the tip 
Га gotten from the one-legged 
man at the cigar store proved 
out, Resorts International 
might make a run at the airline, 
just as it had at TWA. Sure 
enough—remind me to send 
that guy another whip—my 
bonds and interest came to 
$259,000. 

At this point, I decided to get 
serious. Any time a dollar 
amount can be comfortably 
expressed as a fraction of a mil- 
lion, I feel it should be treated 
with respect. Rather than just 
slap it into some other hunch, I 
called a couple of CIA guys Га 
been stationed with in Zagreb. 
"They told me they knew a little 
electronics company whose 
stock price they'd decided qui- 
etly to quadruple. It was a 
vehicle for paying off certain 
persons it would be awkward to 
pay off directly —they'd just be 
told what stock to buy—and, 
while I was obviously not one 
of those persons (whom had / 
ever assassinated?), they fig- 


FUNNIEST MONEY BOOK 


Sex & Money, by Boston 
stockbroker and author John D. 
Spooner. Very little sex, lots of 
fun and sawy. “Jimmy із one of 
the most honest people 1 know,” 
Spooner writes of a broker who 


sits across the room. “After he 
blows his whistle every morning, 
he yells out, “Do | know anything? 
If I knew anything, | wouldn't be 
in this business.’ . . . Stockbro- 
kers themselves generally own 
very little stock.” 


ured it couldn't hurt if I put my 
1985 IRA money into it. (The 
Company knows everything, so 
I felt no need to mention that 
by “my 1985 IRA money" I was 
talking $259,000, not $2000.) 

For weeks and weeks, noth- 
ing happened, which made me 
nervous as hell—a whole year's 
retirement funds in some all- 
but-moribund electronics out- 
fit no one had ever heard of. 
Then, shortly after this issue of 
PLAYBOY went to press, an item 
buried in The Wall Street Jour- 
nal announced the award to 
this all-but-moribund electron- 
ics company of a $46,800,000 
satellite-surveillance-develop- 
ment contract, and the stock 
bolted from 2% to 10. I sold 
into strength. 

On December 31, 1 retired. 


"ий! 
sd 


АВС went to Capital Cities, 
CBS went a billion dollars into 
debt to turn Ted Turner to 
MGM, RCA watched subsidi- 
ary NBC emerge in the ratings 
and sold subsidiary Hertz to 
UAL (parent of United Airlines 
and major competitor to АМЕ, 
no relation to AMF). GAF 
went after Carbide, everybody 
went after TWA, and suddenly 
it dawned on the corporate 
logoteers that there could be in 
total, at most, no matter what, 
just 17,576 different corpora- 
tions with three-letter names. 
Then what would they do? 

James L. Dutt, chairman of 
Beatrice, who had initiated the 
albatrossian acquisition of Es- 


BEST (-SELLING) BUSINESS 
BOOK OF THE YEAR 


lecocca, "which would seem to 
prove," wrote L. J. Dovis іп 
Harper's, “that if one wants to 
write а best seller, one should 
leave the writing to someone 
else. Iacocca isn't even а real 
ghosted autobiography; it is a 
series of occasionally entertoin- 
ing, selectively sonitized опес- 
dotes ond ofter-dinner speeches 
in which, with astonishing vigor, 
the chairman of Chrysler does 
not run for President of the U.S.” 


ENLIGHTENED CORPORATE 
QUOTE OF THE YEAR 
4 hod one lady in mind, but 
she died."—Fred Hartley, 68, 
chairman of Unocal, explaining 
his compony's allmele board, 
оз quoted in Fortune. 


CORPORATE TAKES 


mark, fired or lost 43 of 48 Bea- 
trice vice-presidents—*We're 
Beatrice"—and watched Bea- 
trice's bond rating sink from 
triple-A tosingle-A, was canned. 

G.M. decided that the best 
place in America to build a 
quality car was heartland Ten- 
nessee. And that the best way 
to sell cars in the meantime was 
with 7.7 percent financing. 

IBM announced it was ceas- 
ing production of the PCjr— 
and then was surprised that no 
one would buy the remaining 
inventory. 

Mobil's Montgomery Ward 
subsidiary (one of the stupidest 
acquisitions in history) an- 
nounced it was ceasing publica- 


ton, after 113 years, of the 
Montgomery Ward catalog. 

McDonald's served its 55 
billionth hamburger. 

A record amount of home- 
exercise equipment was pur- 
chased, used twice and stored 
guiltily in the back of the 
closet. 

The Prudential was "bigger 
than life" the Metropolitan 
launched Snoopy аз its 
spokescanine and the North- 
western Mutual continued to 
advertise itself aggressively as 
“the quiet company." 

Smith Barney continued to 
do things the old-fashioned 
way—with pneumatic tubes. 
Bear Stearns announced it 


would go public and revealed 
that over the prior five years, it 
had made more money than all 
its clients combined. 

Coke brought out new Coke, 
presaging yet four more poten- 
tial supermarket facings—new 
Coke with caffeine, new Coke 
without caffeine, diet new 
Coke with caffeine and diet 
new Coke without caffeine. A 
marketing coup. For the long 
run, it suggested a possible lack 
of focus. “Coke's a joke” was 
more or less the gist. Opined an 
elderly Coke lover cajoled by 
Newsweek into taking her first 
trepidatious sips at the new- 
brew debut: “It sucks.” 


“Тһе week of October 17, 
an unmarried, self-employed 
plumber in New York City 
earned an extra $1000. It was 
his 37th. If he reported it to the 
Government, as all plumbers 
do, he would pay $118 of it in 
Social Security tax, $100 ofitin 
New York State income tax, 
$43 of it in New York City 
income tax, $40 of it in New 
York City unincorporated- 
business tax and, after allowing 
for the local tax deductions, 
$310 of it in Federal income 
tax. This would leave him 
$389, enough to garage his car 
for 16 nights іп Manhatan 
(including the 14 percent New 


TAXES 


York City parking tax but no 
tips, wash or wax). 

= Throughout the year, there 
was talk of tax reform. Part of 
the idea was simplification. So 
in 1985, to simplify things, 
1,000,000-odd Keogh-plan par- 
ticipants were, for the first time 
ever, required to file a special 
form. Failure to file the five- 
page form by July 31 incurred a 
$25-a-day penalty, except that 
since no one had a clue how to 
fill it in, the deadline was 
extended to September 30. And 
still no one had a clue. (One 
bank that is custodian for 
30,000 such plans offered to fill 
out the forms for $225 a year— 


BOND ISSUE OF THE YEAR 


Ron Perelman, one of the 
tycoons in those Consolidated 
Cigar ods (well, he owns Consoli- 
doted Cigor), floated a half- 
billion-dollar bond issue, with 
little visible collateral and no 
specified purpose, through Pan- 
try Pride, the supermarket chain 
he controls. Pantry Pride then 
mode а one-ond-c-holf-billion- 
dollor bid for roughly 30-times- 
os-profitoble Redon. 

Sneered take-over attorney 
Martin Lipton sometime earlier 
(as quoted, again, in Fortune): 
“We have entered the era of 
the two-tier, front-end-loaded, 
bootstrap, bust-up, junk-bond 
take-over.” 

Could he have hadin mind Ted 
Turner's plon to buy CBS for 
nothing down? 


and then sent out impenetrable 
three-page questionnaires to 
be submitted along with the 
$225.) Particularly, no one had 
a clue what good any of this 
could possibly do anyone. One 
undoubtedly well-intentioned 
idiot somewhere in Washington 
had made 1,000,000 self-em- 
ployed people miserable and 
dumped several million man- 
hours into the sewer. 

*In 1985, Treasury | was 
supplanted by Treasury II. In 
1986, it may not be shinnying 
too far out on a limb to predict, 
Treasury II will be supplanted 
by Treasury Ш. 


“Тһе Bank of Boston gave 
new meaning to the term trans- 
fer agent when it developed, in 
1985, that for years it had been 
greeting greasy little men with 
bundles of small bills and ship- 
ping them (the bills, not the 
men), no questions asked, to 
numbered Swiss accounts. 

*E. F. Hutton gave new 
meaning to the term cash man- 
agement, under which one at- 
tempts to have close to zero 
cash siting idly at апу 
moment. “Close to zero?” a 
lowly Hutton regional nobody 
asked himself one night. “Why 
stop with zero? Why not sub- 
zero?” He thereupon launched 
a system of thousands of cash 
transfers, which you or I might 
call kited checks, that over time 
netted Hutton a couple of hun- 
dred million dollars. And the 
marvelous thing is that he did it 
all himself. No one at the top 
knew anything about it. He was 
just a lone, overzealous Cuban 
exile who, with a few of his pals, 
had taped open the doors of the 
Democratic National Commit- 
tee headquarters and—— 
Oops. Wrong cover-up. Ej 


Playboys Playmate 


601010 
a roundup of the past Ци! dezen 


WHO DO YOU THINK SHOULD BE 
PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR? 


REACH OUT AND CHOOSE SOMEONE 


Here's your chance to let the editors of PLAYBOY know whom you'd like to be our 
Playmate of the Year. Here's how it works: We've assigned a different 900 number to 
each Playmate; that number is listed by her photograph on the following pages. Decide 
who your favorite is and dial her number. Each call will be acknowledged and regis- 
tered by computer. The phone lines will be open 24 hours a day, from 12:01 P.M. E.S.T., 
December first, to midnight E.S.T., December 14. From any of the 50 states, Canada, 
the U.S. Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico, the cost is 50 cents per call; you can phone 
from anywhere else in the world as well, but international callers will be charged regu- 
lar long-distance rates. 


TAKE A CHANCE ON TALKING WITH 
YOUR FAVORITE PLAYMATE 


As a bonus, you may get to talk with the woman of your dreams. Each day during the 
рһопе-іп period, at least one of 198575 delightful dozen will be personally answering 
randomly selected calls. So if you're one of the lucky ones to get through, you'll talk per- 
son to person with an appreciative Playmate. Or, as Ma Bell would put it, you'll be able 
to reach out and touch your favorite Playmate. 


Cher Butler (right) kept 
her art talent a secret, 
never thinking it was 
worth displaying. But 
after producing “urban 
art” collages and assem- 
blages for the past two 
years, she enjoyed her 
first one-woman show 
in October at a Los 
Angeles gallery. “I've 
never studied art seri- 
ously,” says the reluc- 
tant artist, “but people 
seem to like my work.” 


of 


1-900-720-9609 


"I live more on airplanes 
than 1 do on the 
ground," says Devin 
DeVasquez (left), who 
has been  winging 


around the country 
doing promotions for 
PLAYBOY and modeling 
for Elite. Still based in 
Chicago, she plans to 
move to L.A. to study 
acting and voice and 
will spend a couple of 
months modeling in Ja- 
pan, France and ltaly. 


oM ¿February 


1-900-210-1222 


Although she's still а 
happy resident of Seat- 
tle, Cherie Witter 
(right) has traveled as 
far west as Hilo, 
Hawaii, and as far east 
as Washington, D.C., 
with stops in New York, 
Michigan and Canada 
along the way. If you 
missed her, catch her in 
the privacy of your own 
home on Lovin’ Every 
Minute of It, her new 
Loverboy rock video. 


(0 A igh nuary 


1-900-210-5111 


After moving to Paris in September, Joan Bennett has been turning heads all 
over Europe. She has acted in commercials for television and been seen in fash- 
ion layouts in such prestigious magazines as French Vogue, L'Officieland Donna. 
Her first-class modeling itinerary includes Spain, Morocco, England and Italy. 


Miss [$4 лї 


1-900-210-5577 


Cindy Brooks, just back from Hawaii, breathlessly told us, "Im always busy.” 
Earlier, she had completed work on The Money Pit, a Steven Spielberg project, 

and a stint as a harem girl in TV's revived sitcom What's Happening Now. 
And she was heading off for a stage audition. These days, she's just a blur. Та 


Mess March 
1-900-210-7333 


Donna Smith (left) used 
her Playmate money to 
put together a knock- 
out modeling portfolio. 
In the meantime, she's 
been traveling a lot, 
including a recent hop 
to Florida to participate 
in a fund-raising project 
for Ethiopian relief. On 
the home front, Donna 
continues taking voice 
lessons in preparation 
for a demo tape to get 
her singing career going. 


Mis OMvember 
1-900-720-4720 


When we chatted with 
Pam Saunders (right), 
she was lamenting a 
recent “streak of bad 
luck." To begin with, 
her cat had come back 
from a neighborhood 
jaunt with a broken 
foot. Then her two- 
year-old Ford Mustang 
broke down. “Еуегу- 
thing just went at 
once.” So she's taking it 
easy, “lounging around 
and visiting friends.” 


3 7 
ой» ptember 
1-900-720-0070 


Her instant fame and 
high visibility didn't 
mesh with her bank job, 
so Venice Kong (left) is 
concentrating on her 
show-business career. 
Although her scenes in 
Tedsen Ман 
Adam ended up on the 
proverbial cutting-room 
floor, she just got her 
first TV part, in ABC's 
He's the Mayor. Looks 
as if she'll be back in the 
bank—as a customer. 


172 


1-900-720-2666 


You can tune in Kathy Shower almost any day you want, now that she's a regular on 
the soap opera Santa Barbara. She plays the tough, independent chauffeur for 
the Lockridge family, who, in a plausible plot twist, becomes a centerfold mod- 
el. With that plum pocketed, Kathy says, “Things are turning out very well.” 


© Mis 277 


1-900-720-3720 


Hope Marie Carlton has become Hope Marie, Inc., and the first offering from 
the new corporate body is a poster distributed through Starmakers Poster Cor- 
That, her move to New York, her new RX-7 and a switch from single- 

ft to twin-engine instruction seem to indicate a general powering up. 173 


w 7 
Mis Du ember 
1-900-720-6300 


The trés charmante 
Carol Ficatier (left) was 
due to catch a plane for 
a trip home to France 
when we talked, but she 
did mention that she'd 
be in LA. for a few 
months early this year 
to test the acting waters 
and because “I want to 
be able to take advan- 
tage of any opportu- 
nities that come my 
way because of my 
appearance in PLAYBOY." 


Ms Oktober 
1-900-720-2160 


Cynthia Brimhall (right) 
estimated she'd been 
home two days in the 
previous three months. 
Florida, Illinois, Ala- 
bama, Texas and Mex- 
ico have all caught 
glimpses of her, and she 
concluded she was 
“ready to sleep for a 
couple of days.” For the 
future, she's looking at 
a home purchase in 
Utah and investment in 
а money-market fund. 


THAT WAS THE YEAR THAT WAS 


humor By KEVIN COOK 


Grannies used to love to smack 
The dirty mouths of youths; 
Now it's time to get them back 


Reagan had a euphemism; 
Doctors fixed his tush, 
Saving us a cataclysm— 


And wash out Dr. Ruth's. Eight more hours of Bush. 
When ғілүвоү raced the other guys Botha promised policies 
To show Madonna's charms, To put his blacks in clover, 


What really popped the nation's eyes? 
Her unkempt underarms. 


Just as soon as tensions ease 
And Cape Town freezes over. 


Sly has proved by now that he 
Can hunt and grunt and bleed. 
We can't wait for First Blood ІП, 
When Rambo learns to read. 


Falwell's fundamentalists 

Don't look at naked ladies. 
Those who must, the rev insists, 
Should do so, please, in Hades. 


Be you poor or subway villain, 
Be you both combined. 

Bernie Goetz is not too philan- 
Thropically inclined. 


Rose passed Cobb in '85. 
When will Pete slow down? 

The day he makes a headfirst dive 
Into Cooperstown. 


Cosby's show was quite a smash; 
The ratings were so fine, he's 
Sure to cause a nasty rash 

Of TV OB-gynies. 


Sydney Biddle Barrows 

Was a madam with a trick— 

Sydney rented Eros 

To the rich and got off quick. 
Fashion experts made their lists Tough Mike Hammer, jailed for coke, 
And checked them over twice, Had just one rule to teach 
And then, to find out what they missed, All the lonely inmate folk— 
They watched Miami Vice. Real men don't eat Keach. 


ILLUSTRATION BY BILL UTTERBACK 


remembrances of sundry personalities and events that made news in 1985 


Fame and Pee-wee Herman had 
A stirring rendezvous. 

Rambo's tough and Max is mad, 
But nerds need heroes, too. 


Phyllis George was such a honey; 
Hostile critics brought her down. 
Phyllis made a lot of money, 

Then went home to John Y. Brown. 


Springsteen tied the wedding knot 
With Julianne, which means 

We soon may see a singing tot 
With Bruce's Levi's genes. 


Тһе crime of Jeane Kirkpatrick, 
Once the woman of the hour, 
Was to quit and leave the geriatric 
Good ol” boys in power. 


Stephen King, the modern Poe, 
Knows what he's about. 

Want to make some monstrous dough? 
Gross the country out. 


David Stockman, budget kingpin, 
Now in greener pastures, 

Saw the reign of Reagan bringin’ 
Trickle-down disasters. 


Live Aid outranked every show 
Prior to or since. 

Just two stars refused to go— 
God Himself and Prince. 


Baseball's strike was transient, 
For stirred into the broth 
Was one prospective President 
Named Peter Ueberroth. 


Late Night Dave, he's got it all, 

A host of things divine; 

Tricks and quips and pranks and Paul— 
The Yuppie Funkenstein. 


Geraldine Ferraro 
Found a double occupation— 
Leader of tomorrow 

And the Pepsi generation. 


Spacek, Tina, Diane Keaton— 
Gibson's girls were stars. 

Mel had women overheatin’ 
Faster than his cars. 


Last year was, upon reflection, 
Mostly gunk and dregs. 

Just two things attained perfection: 
Tina Turner's legs. 


PLAYBOY 


178 


LAST CLOSET o page 135) 


“Even more revealing, submissive men are down- 
right bossy. Their Milquetoast must be butteredjustso.” 


step on this lady.” 
Even 9/2 Weeks—purportedly autobio- 
graphical—doesn’t pass his amniocen- 


was led by a psychological nose 
ring through degree after degree of erotic 
servitude. Beyond your usual whipping 
and bondage and humiliation, she got fed, 
bathed, tamponed and—God—read to by 
him. Eventually, Elizabeth had a break- 
down and cut out. "Often," Hartwell said, 
“the woman will consent because ‘I love 
him.’ Or because she’s afraid to lose him. 
That's the wrong kind of consent.” 9/2 
was recently—and, oh, зо nervously— 
translated into a film starring Kim 
Basinger and Mickey Rourke. Use some 
phrase like D/S or S/M, and spokesmen 
for the project come down with calcified 
heads. They can see Women Against Por- 
nography poisoning a popcorn concession 
at RKO Simplex. No, no, “It’s not 
like that. It’s a love story. She won't have a 
breakdown.” Which would mean that it 
has nothing whatsoever to do with the 
book. We shall sec. D/S, I think, isn't 
ready for general release. 

The Hartwell golden rule is clear. 
“Have him or her do unto you only what 
you enjoy having done.” And nothing, 
nothing else. “All my life, I wanted to tie 
ladies up—and be tied up. From, oh, the 
age of five. And I spent my life trying to 
find out what was wrong with me. From 
my background, I will tell you that people 
into S/M will not change. The need is 
going to stay there.” 

Diane, whom he had known from high 
school, was straight. After their marriage, 
though, she began to have wild surmises 
about Jay. And one day she said, “Why 
don't you try tying me up?” As Hartwell 
put it, “The dam broke. I was like a 
drowning man that got a rope. I wasn't 
about to let go.” It took a long time— 
more like nine and a half years than nine 
and a half wecks—for Diane and Jay to 
learn their own golden rule. In between, 
Diane did much that she didn’t much rel- 
ish. Out of love, out of duty, not—as must 
be—for sexual pleasure, 

“J tell people they must be honest with 
cach other. The process takes time. Trust 
grows. If you're truly only doing those 
things you both enjoy, it’s called positive 
reinforcement, And people expand and sex 
gets better. Now, you don’t end up with 
your fantasies—believe me, you don't 
You end up with a synthesis. But it doesn’t 
stop, it keeps getting better and better. 
And you will become a more caring, 
responsible, sensitive individual than you 


were, unlike the stereotype of S/M. 
Because you can’t abuse people and 
expect them to come back for more.” 

. 

D/S has unique attributes. It is, for a 
starter, the one human sexual deviation 
not practiced by any other animal type. 
Fido may sit up and beg, but he won't 
make Mrs. Fido sit up апа Ьер. This is 
because D/S has developed as man's quin- 
tessential mind-groin game. Think: all 
that homi evolution, Ramapithecus 
upward, brain fold on brain fold, occurred 
Just to make a dominatrix with seven-inch 
‘stiletto heels and high-colonic equipment 
possible. You might say. In her 1971 Vil- 
lage Voice article, Terry Kolb, female sub- 
missive and Eulenspiegel founder, wrote, 
“Reik states categorically that a person 
with a weakly developed imagination can- 
not become a masochist. In the eyes of the 
public, a sadomasochistic scene is a very 
sordid affair with a ‘sex-fiend’ brutalizing 
an equally weird victim. . . . The exact 
opposite is the case, The S/M relationship 
is the most democratic that exists . . . the 
two consenting partners must work very 
hard to achieve compatible relationships 
because so much depends on relating the 
fantasies of each partner to the other.” 

Moreover, D/S is an upscale deviation. 
(Listen, friend, leather doesn’t come 
cheap.) Hartwell, some time ago, pre- 
pared a questionnaire in cooperation with 
the Institute of Human Sexuality in Berke- 
ley. There were about 1000 D/S respond- 
ents. Breaking the data down: (A) 87 
percent considered themselves switchable 
to some degree; (B) your average D/S had 
better education and a more responsible 
job (lawyer, doctor, accountant, engineer, 
entrepreneur) than the American norm; 
(C) dominant or submissive, he or she was 
in a higher income bracket and, odd fact, 
held more real estate (1 guess land acts as 
acoustic insulation. Whip crack and loud 
begging go right through a cheap plas- 
terboard apartment wall); (D) D/S people 
are liberal sexually but otherwise quite 
conservative. Not swingers: monogamous; 
(E) they are extremely individualistic, 
“We're doers, not talkers. We tend to be 
tennis players, not basketball players. 
Hunters and people who fly their own 
planes. The salt of this country, we make 
America go.” 

And what does it erupt from, this 
compulsive bent to surrender or control? 
Is it in all men and women—a matter just 
of degree, the difference between love tap 
and spank—or is it some peculiar, limited 


backcourt foul? Hartwell would say that 
“women will always be sexually submis- 
sive. And men will always be sexually 
dominant, as long as we are human 
beings." The subject is, I needn’t remind 
you, touchier than Bernie Goetz оп a sub- 
way. Sull, what man has never felt, 
mounting his woman, some rush of mas- 
tery, of imposed will and seed? And what 
female hasn't taken snug delight in her 
own spread acquiescence? These are not 
culturally acceptable thoughts. We have 
politicized sex: equal access, fair labor 
practices, collective bargaining all pertain 
now. Even that innocuous, jocular phrase 
“missionary position” can suggest 
colonialism. The apologetic way we 
cuss gender traits in sex is a symptom of 
fear—our secret animal might get loose, 
perform antisocial acts and, worse, be 
undemocratic, 

If, then, you assume (as I will) that 
Hartwell is correct, that men are domi- 
nant, how come so many of them are down 
on their knees tongue shining a ten-inch 
platform heel? 

Where there's smoke, there's often a 
smoke machine. First, dominant women 
are generally professional, not innate. 
Mistress Von Himmelfahrt took up men- 
slaughter because it was a crab-free way to 
pull down $150 an hour without ever 
unsnapping her stainless-steel bra. Diane 
Hartwell says, “I find very, very few real 
dominant women out there. These 22- 
year-old girls who buy a whip and a 
leather skirt and an ad—that isn’t domi- 
nant.” In fact, dominant women can be 
rather pathetic. Go to any D/S club, you'll 
see 200-pound mistresses, limp as fabric 
sculpture, so disreputable-looking that 


their bitch power would seem to derive 
from a scintillating ugliness. Most, 
though, pander to male-submissive tastes 


because—as Ed put it—"they couldn't 
get a man interested in them otherwise.” 

Second, and even more revealin; 
submissive men аге downright bossy. 
Their Milquetoast must be buttered just 
so. Jay Hartwell: “Submissive men are 
demanding about how submissiveness is 
given them. You vill do it this way.” These 
аге often responsible, paging-beeper types 
who find, in sexual submission, a kind of 
unpaid holiday. This controlled schizo- 
phrenia can furlough them from job te 
sion. Nonetheless, even on the rack, 
they re still delegating. Administrators of 
their own punishment. Ed phrased it so: 
“As for professional dominant women 
hell, I consider them hired help.” 

Overt submissive women are rarer than 
pin boys in a bowling alley. The first rea- 
son should be obvious: wise caution. A 
female form that is too user friendly might 
be taken advantage of by the wrong Sir 
Stephen. Moreover, women still aren't as 
mobile as men. They don’t have the cruis- 
ing time that even a husband who "works 
late” one night cach week can manage. 


And, I suspect, it is easier for women to 
load-shed their passive need in the normal, 
respectable wife-under sexual mode. 
Female orgasmic noise has а plaintive, 
defenseless ring to it. Men, by contrast— 
even if they just pin the lady’s wrist down 
or thrust with overmuch triumph—may 
be accused of crassness or brutality. Love 
and dominance are still considered anti- 
thetical. 

And I have yet to mention the most sig- 
nificant dynamic. Namely, that domi- 
nance and submis: 
matter of desire or drive than of perspec- 
live. Neither phenomenon is ever found in 
the pure state. Freud guessed that a long 
time ago. “He who experiences pleasure 
by causing pain to others in sexual rela- 
tions is also capable of experiencing pain 
in sexual relations as pleasure. A sadis 
simultaneously a masochist. . . . [And] 
masochism is nothing but a continuation 
of sadism directed against one’s own per- 
son in which the latter at first takes the 
place of the sexual object.” That female in 
her strait jacket is you, objectified. That 
whip arm about to descend is your own 
arm, externalized. All D/S people are, in 
effect, self-flagellants. This'll hurt me 
more than it will hurt you, dear. І hope. 

. 

D/S, then, is a sexual Móbius strip. And 

in any Monday-night Eulenspiegel session 


at 25 East Fourth Street in New Yorl 


can sense the endless flip-siding. 
submissive by preference. But 1 will 
switch.” Most members who major in D 
or S are also minoring (maybe with reluc- 
tance and small appetite) in the opposite 
But specialization is inhibitive: it hurts 
social mobility. There are no “scenes. 
titillation at Eulenspiegel. It is middle 
class, dullish, informative and about as 
raunchy as your local hepatitis support 
group. 

T.E.S., a not-for-profit corporation, was 
setup in 1971 by militant masochists. Aft- 
er some while it went coed, you might say, 
and dominant folk were allowed to 
matriculate, Now, though heterosexual by 
and large, Eulenspiegel will tolerate just 
about anyone. The strangeness range is, 
indecd, wonderful. One dominant pre-op 
transsexual. One chap who likes to wrestle 
with (and be pinned by) women. One 
houseboy/valet (but will he do windows?). 
One savior who is into re-creating the Cru- 
cifixion for a spiritual, nonsexual high— 
“And would anybody here care to 
celebrate Good Friday with me?" Morc 
than one student (Eulenspiegel is in the 
syllabus of several college sex-education 
courses). Another 25 or so, each with his 
or her peculiar sexual salt lick. Most are 
Үшрріс attractive, clean-cut. Some, у 
look like they got to Eulenspiegel only 
after an exhumation order was signed. 
The motto is “Safe, consensual, loving 
S/M.” People are courteous to onc 
another. After all, everyone at Eulen- 


spiegel lives in a glass house of some sort. 
Monday procedure is calendar, business, 
speaker, break for wine and conversation, 
round table. Tonight our topic will be 
“Flirting in the Scene.” 

And there is so much to learn. Did you 
know, say, that a spiky leather wristlet 
means dominant on the left arm but 
submissive on the right? That S/M is M/S 
out in L.A.? (S stands for slave, not sadist; 
M for master, not masochist.) Further- 
more, Charley, just because you're a per- 
vert doesn't mean you're excused from the 
social graces. It is still uncouth to ask a 
Mistress Caligula if she'd mind strapping 
you on first acquaintance. Good conversa- 
tion, a pleasant manner and compatible 
interests are important. Dominant Helen 
had this to say: “If you put a chain on 
somebody's neck, you own him. Now І sec 
chains and collars and locks on people's 
necks on the first date. I don't know what 
they do for an encore by the second or 
third month... [guess I’m tootraditional.” 

Most Eulenspiegelers aren't promiscu- 


е 


stirring, not ever. 


Not a creature was 


ous. Heck, it’s tough to run around a lot 
when maybe one man or woman ош of 200 
can share your idiosyncratic D/S scene. 
And, like any other intense human interac- 
tion, a D/S match requires perseverance, 
care and adaptability. You should also be 
somewhat more attractive than, oh, Zin- 
Janthropus. Slaves and masters are courted 
first as people. Submissive (but switchable) 
Ed told me, “You have to be dominant, 
even as a subi ive, to get a woman to 
care for you and love you. You have to 
maintain respect. Once you lose that, 
you're a goner. These guys who come on 
submissive right away—'Can I kiss your 
fect, mistress? —they can never, from that 
position, be a boyfriend. I also find, іп а 
relationship, if you fuck them good it 
doesn't hurt, either. My problem is, I'm 
such a good dominant, girlfriends often 
don’t want to switch over.” 
Submissiveness, heightened by cnough 
passion, can approximate а me 12 
exercise—hot-coal walkers manage some- 
thing similar. It will actually transmute 


Shows all 
you Know. 


179 


PLAYBOY 


180 


the unpleasant message registered by a 
sore nerve ending. Ed explains, “If I'm in 
love with someone, I can turn pain into 
pleasure totally. You know what it’s like if 
you're making love and a woman gives 
you a hickey or bites your neck. If you're 
hot enough and the love is hot enough, you 
don't feel it as pain. The more I care for 
her, the more | can make the conver- 
sion.” 

But there are recreational hazards. “1 
keep a lookout for myself. Even though 1 
convert pain into pleasure, I know the 
price I'm going to pay the next day. I 
think, Well, these are two-day welts, that’s 
a three-week scratch. I try to get the maxi 
mum amount of pain with the least physi- 
cal damage.” Has he ever experienced fear 
with an irresponsible partner? “Uh, once. 
I used to do self-bondage, and one time 1 
hooked myself up with my arms and just 
couldn't get out. If I hollered, someone 
would've come, but then he'd've had to 
break my apartment door down. I finally 
maneuvered free, but what a scene. І was 
really shitting a pill.” 

The instructive word here is scene. 
Scene, in Eulenspiegelese, covers each and 
every D/S combination. They arc all acted 
out, played. More than any other sexual 
water ballet, D/S assumes theatrical form. 
As a novelist, I can appreciate D/S, 
because , yes, literate. Stories get told: 
there is confrontation, dialog, physical and 
intellectual climax. When done well, a 
D/S scene will reel itself off like some tight 
suspense film. It is, after all, 
ticipation—not penetration or paddle 
thwack—that stirs a sensuous flush. One 
D/S porn-loop director told me, “I prefer 
having two women on the set. Because, 
while the first is being bound or raped, I 
can Cut to the second, to her face. She's 
anticipating what will happen to her. She 
becomes the audience’s P.O.V. And the 
audience experiences her fear or desire.” 
In fact, D/S is Aristotelian. A ceremonial, 
pseudo-tragic drama that has been struc- 
tured to induce catharsis. Catharsis, in 
D/S, is often the orgasm itself. Some 
Aristotle didn't think of. 

And, as with any drama, costume will 
provide lots of the illusion, Face it, most 
people look better in bondage. Restraint 
articulates the body. Indeed, so-called 
straight people wear bondage gear every 
day. What else is your wife's bra—a re- 
straint gadget to accentuate the bustline. 

int-tight jeans? The most common— 
monly painful— bondage imple- 
ment is a high heel, Yet women know that 
heels improve leg silhouette by cording 
calf and thigh. Watch any woman walk 
heeled: you sce there the hobbling, inse- 
cure stride of somcone in ankle irons. 

Morcover, D/S drama (or, more prop- 
crly, melodrama) is a historical romance. 
D/S doesn’t occur in the present tense, 
Judging from costume garter belt, 
corset—what you have very often are little 


an- 


Victorian period pieces. Or a re- 
enactment of some ideal childhood when 
physical discipline was at least thinkable. 
Here the controlled schizophrenia spoken 
of before applies chronologically and cul- 
turally as well. Modernism is at a stop. 
Nuclear war, airport-luggage handling, 
adultproof caps all appear less importu- 
nate when you're bent nude in front of 
some woman dressed like Kitty from Gun- 
smoke. And, for the dominant man, cos- 
tume can reprise an age when his gender 
role had positive definition. Wives in 1880 
and 1890 were submissive to their men 
(kept so symbolically by whalebone bond- 
age). Male prepotence didn’t connote 
breechcloth and tribal-scar savagery. D/S 
repertory theater signals sharp longing for 
some less ambiguous and stressful human 
time, 

But you'd be sore-pressed, even in legit- 
а, to distinguish between art 
ionism. The D/S mind-set is 
strongly narcissistic. Mistresses, not just 
their slave clientele, wear flattering bond- 
age (push-up bra, laced boot). Leather 
and latex simulate flesh: a paradigmatic 
flesh that feels smooth, perspirationless, 
streamlined, unhuman. Skin has become 
artifice. Even in partner-partner privacy 
or mirrored self-restraint, the hung, 
muscle-bound human physique is an 
alluring tableau vivant. D/S people, 
despite their obsession with anonymity 
are inveterate Polaroid swingers. And 
often a “spontaneous” scene played at 
some D/S club will be more ostentation 
than impulsive outburst. All give intensity 
by the forbidden status of D/S. Deliberate 
outrage: like pissing in a Salvation Army 
kettle on Seventh Avenue at Christmas. 

Moreover, as when actors perform for 
some authoritarian director, there is ces- 
sion of both responsibility and free will. 
George Orwell made it clear in Shooting 
an Elephant that colonial governments 
(dominant) have to gratify whatever 
image and expectation their subject people 
(submissive) conceive, The ruler is ruled. 
Thus, in return for control, D men and 
women work harder than Michael Jack- 
son's clipping service. The D is auteur, sce- 
narist, best boy, stage and costume 
designer. Long-term D/S relationships 
require more imagination than you'd 
sweat off producing a 72-cpisode series of 
M*A*S*H. 

But, in exchange for all that production 
value, the dominant is released from 
immediate sexual-performance pressure. 
He or she сап budget lust. The 
porn-role model in our lization— 
indefatigable Homo erectus, woman lubri- 
cated better than frictionless bearings—is 
enough to put anyone through a sexual 
power stall. One writer (name unknown) 
said it this way: “The bound woman is 
both helpless (unthreatening, un- 
demanding) slave and voluptuary— 
breasts outthrust, legs spread, wriggling. 


She is the sexual superhuman we've been 
conditioned to find or emulate. But she is 
also helpless and sensual only at the domi- 
nant male's leisure.” She can't escape his 
control. And she can't require avalanchine 
eflorts from his masculinity. D/S theater is 
a dialog in fine balance, even when one 
speaker has been gagged. 
. 

But, understand this, for all the intel- 
lectual and artistic pageantry—plot, cos- 
tume, crawlon part—D/S remains 
neurotic and compulsive. It is never just a 
limited engagement. As one submissive 
male told mc, “I live S/M, think S/M, 24 
hours a day, every day." The question on 
deck, then, is, Has D/S, overt and covert, 
become more prevalent in America? Yes, it 
has. Sure, solid arithmetical evidence on 
proton decay is more easily collected 
Eulenspiegel, Hartwell & Co., correspond- 
ence magazines each represent just a thin 
scattering layer. Many D/S people won't 
announce their existence even to them- 
selves. And that condition will never 
change. However, if you extrapolate from 
certain assumptions about D/S certain 
assumptions about the cultural and psy- 
chological weather in America, there is a 
credible inference left. 1 mean, we haven't 
gotten cozy yet with guilt, 

Here 1 draw on conjectures first pro- 
posed to me by Professor Steven Marcus 
in 1963. Marcus, who later would coedit 
the complete Freud, had then just reread 
“A Child Is Being Beaten.” In that 
obscure essay, Freud wrote about six men 
and women, each obsessed with similar 
D/S fantasies. They would imagine—and 
had done so from earliest youth—an 
unknown child experiencing strict corpo- 
ral punishment. Freud, as I have said, 
knew well enough that sadism and mas- 
ochism were interchangeable. But Mar- 
cus, who was to write a superb 
socio-sexual history, The Other Victorians, 
took this narrow yet suggestive essay fur- 
ther. He recognized that none of those six 
men and women had had much significant 
physical discipline as children, Thence he 
elaborated a hypothesis that, ever since, 1 
have thought the most useful single insight 
into D/S and its queer dynamic. 

Punishment is moral and emotional 
restitution. Children who do wrong and 
get corporeal attention for it (and, after- 
ward, are made whole by remedial love) 
have gone through a closed process— 
ation, forgiveness. On the other 
hand, children who do wrong and are 
merely reasoned with (told of displeasure: 
is upset," "God punish,” 
“Why can't you be better?"), these chil- 
dren may own no sure psychological appli- 
ance for expiation. Their process remains 
open, They are left—talk about sadism— 
with the endless responsibility for exorcis- 
ing their own guilt. These, Marcus 
thought, might begin to fixate on physical 
punishment. But, since they had no one 


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PLAYBOY 


182 


who would spank them, they often exter- 
nalized self in another—hence that 
unknown child being beaten. The exercise 
would remain fantastical. In some extreme 
instances, though, it might develop into 
active D/S—which, we have seen, has the- 
atrical or ritual structure that can resem- 
ble religious services in both repetition 
and solemnity. Atonement of a quite un- 
canonical sort. 

But, as penitential rite, D/S is crucially 
flawed. First, because the sinner will 
derive morbid pleasure from it—and that 
pleasure tends to be sexual in large part. 
Second, because he is committing, through 
either thought or deed, a deviant act thor- 
oughly condemned by Western civiliza- 
Sisyphus, at least, could walk 
downhill now and then. For a D/Ser, guilt, 
after momentary cathartic release, will 
both continue as before and, worse, be 
obscured. His obsessive acts of contrition 
hatch fresh remorse. An inescapable, cir- 
cular syndrome has been generated. Pun- 


tion. 


ishment won't fit the crime, because no 
one can remember what the crime was. 
And having, like Ed, converted pain into 
pleasure, he is anyhow incapable of atone- 
ment. Invulnerable, in a terrible way, to 
expiation. 

A Brooklyn whore into dominance once 
told me her most lucrative and heaviest 
repeat sessions were with Hasidic Jewish 
men. They felt guilt because, good grief, 
the holocaust had somehow snubbed 
them. If a Jew can fabricate such unwar- 
ranted tsimmes, and we assume guilt to be 
one decisive clement in D/S, then Cauca- 
sian, middle-class American men had bet- 
ter bend over and grab ankles right now. 
Hell, we're so affluent, powerful, climate- 
controlled—no purgation is available. In 
babu Latin, Americans are—more than 
ever—homo culpus, the guilt-making man. 
Some while ago, Christianity offered a 
quite elegant moral Clorox. Sin, repent- 
ance, sacrament, absolution. But now 
fewer and fewer can fit religion into their 


“The ho-ho-hos get on your nerves, but the 
tips are good.” 


Опе Minute Management. 

The American male is contrite about 
everything: Ethiopia, Afghanistan, Nica- 
ragua, white flight, whale death, wind ero- 
sion, spina bifida, abortion, anti-abortion, 
Mother, feline leukemia, nonunion water 
cress, his doorman, his elevator man, car 
pooling, blue algae, his new leaf blower, 
his new mulcherizer and— probably— 
galactic red shift. No wonder some men 
put on adult diapers and book rehearsal 
time with Diane Hartwell. No wonder 
some demonstrate outside a South African 
trade mission—to let policemen handcuff 
and subdue them in socially acceptable 
dominance. 

But the big road apple, the great brown 
log of guilt is our present lust for egali- 
tarianism. I quote William Manchester: 
“In egalitaria, if you acquire a light, you 
cast about quickly for a bushel. Athletes 
were first observed wearing their letter 
sweaters inside out and then discarding 
them; today letter sweaters are rarely seen 
anywhere, except among women athletes, 
who are making a very different political 
point. Legion of Honor ribbons are seldom 
seen; that is also true of Phi Beta Kappa 
keys and all other bijoux of distinction in 
which people once took pride. In their 
place is a strange, false humility.” You 
should apologize now for intelligence or 
hard work or even good looks. I can see re- 
verse cosmetic surgery or hair uprooting in 
the future. Absolute gender equality has 
been inserted into the guilt package. 
Dominant males didn't have it hard 
enough before. To the stigma of aggression 
and sexual kinkiness—never mind what- 
ever guilt those derived from—here affix a 
political stigma as well. D/S is, worst 
perhaps, cither selfassertion ог self- 
deprecation and, in egalitaria, both are 
unforgivably vulgar. Men must at least 
pretend to be mortified by their aggressive 
nature. 

Today, in truth, both male and female 
are afraid of impinging on another's 
“space.” Forget D/S here. Disregard even 
the missionary position and its politics. 
Let me suggest that when you just 
embrace your wife, draw her to you, 
restraint is exercised. You hold her fondly 
prisoner. It is emblematic of possession, of 
dominance. It may even arouse, but it is 
natural to human love. Take her hand in 
some questionable neighborhood and you 
assert both protection and superior physi- 
cal strength. What is caring, after all, but 
kind dominance and stewardship? The 
shame that people caught by D/S fecl— 
shame that we reinforce by our bitter, 
nervous contempt of them—is in all of us. 
Egalitarians embarrassed to presume on 
each other, even with love. An Episcopal 
marriage service mentions binding two 
people together. There is rope all around 
us. Rope of mystery and горе of love. It is 
dangerous always to ask who will be the 
binder and who the bound. 


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“RICHARD 
THALHEIMER 


christmas presence 


Six years ago, Richard Thalheimer was a lawyeı 
tling digital stop watches to joggers by mail. 7 

ide line has grown into The Sharper Image, the com- 

glossy monthly mail- 
order catalogs and 14 stores stuffed with an assortment 
of high-tech, executive tools and toys that make 
Thalheimer the perfect Yuppie Santa Claus. 

After all, how many catalogs boast а $1995 remote 
control helicopter, a $1600 programmable home robot, 2 
wide assortment of supermodern fitness equipment, 
exotic watches, talking bathroom scales, a telephone dis 

еа as a duck, suits of armor and vacations to Nepal? 

Thalheimer, 37, was among the first to exploit the 
gad; ze, and his catalogs redefined mail-order sales 
by aiming at bright, upscale, quality-conscious consum- 
ers. “Americans кшдш sell on the basis of sex 
appeal or macho or silly, as ifa fleeting image ofa pretty 

ce sells cars,” he claims. “The Japanese sell quality, 
efficiency and price. The Germans sell mechanical per- 
fection and advanced engineering, The intelligence of the 
American public is underestimated by other Americans.” 

The result of his approach is а $100,000,000 annual 
sales volume and the chance to play with all the toys he 

Ils. “Success is both getting what you want and want- 
ing what you get,” he says me, I like to sleep, to go 
out for nice meals and to exercise, I’m not a very compli- 
cated person, which I think is funny for someone who 
owns a high-tech catalog.” —DAVID RENSIN 


BENNO FRIEDMAN 


NORMAN ANDERSON» 


versatile vintner 


Although there will be only 1000 cases of Norman Anderson's 1985 
Lundstrom Vineyards Chardonnay released later this year, that rela- 
tively small amount will mark a significant milestone—it's the first 
wine from California's first black wine maker. 

“This is a new field for blacks,” admits the 27-year-old Anderson. 
“But even wine making is changing. I won't be unique for long.” 

A karate enthusiast, Anderson was looking for a night job in 1981 
so he could train full time during the day. A job as a waiter in San 
Francisco led to an interest in wine, and from there, he was hired as 
an apprentice wine maker at the respected Joseph Phelps Vineyards. 
At Phelps, Anderson discovered he had a secret talent. “There are 
wine makers who know the science of making good wine, then there 
are the artists,” says a colleague. “Norman is an artist.” 

With the backing of a Swedish financier, Thomas Lundstrom, 
Anderson cofounded the winery on what had been a 140-acre prune 
orchard atop Mount Veeder in California’s Napa Valley. He has 
cleared and planted the first ten acres of cabernet grapes on the rocky 
hillside, but it will be at least five years before the vines mature 
enough to produce suitable fruit. Until then, Anderson buys grapes 
from local growers and oversees the crushing, aging and bottling of 
the first Lundstrom wines 


While Lundstrom begins its slow growth, Anderson moonlights as 
a consultant to other wineries and owns a company that trains maitre 
d's and waiters in proper wine service and etiquette. 

“The wine industry has done a good job of making wine fashion- 
able in the United States,” he says. “Now I think it’s time to make it 
common, to take the mystique out of it. Black-tic events that cost $200 
a person are not the way to go. We have to treat wine more as it’s 
treated in Europe—as part of the family.” 


— DAVID SHEFF 


<CHRIS ELLIOTT 


MARK HANAUER 


son of bob and ray 


The Panicky Guy. The Conspiracy Guy. The Fugitive 
Guy. The Guy Under the Seats. . . 

No, this isn't the first-string infield for the White 
House softball team, It's part of an ever-changing cast of 
characters played by comic actor-writer Chris Elliott, 
whose deadpan cameos on Late Nighl with David Letter- 
man have made him one of the show's oddest and most- 
talked-about characters, 

Elliott, 25, has molded free-floating anxiety into an 
unlikely running gag. His Guy Under the Seats, for 
instance, would pop up in the audience through a trap. 
door, to chat with Letterman. À few minutes later, after 
some imagined slight, The Guy would descend into a 
paranoid rage, vowing revenge. 

It's not typical comedy, but as the son of Bob Elliott of 
Bob and Ray, Chris grew up on offbeat humor. His first 
break, however, came not from Dad but from an offhand 


joke he pulled as a tour guide at NBC's Rockefeller Cen- 


ter. “The first time I spoke to Dave,” he recalls, “was up 
on the observation deck. I charged him the children’s 
admission, After that, we just hit it off.” 

Letterman initially hired him as a writer, then cased 
the usually shy Elliott in front of the camera 

“A lot of people recognize me now,” he says, sounding 
surprised. “Most of them аге nice, but a few say things like, 
‘Hey, you—go back under the seats.”  —-JERRY STAHL 


PLAYBOY 


186 


M | 5 6. |= OR p l z 5 (continued from page 88) 


“Never, for the rest of our lives, would we forget 
what we'd seen in that fleeting moment.” 


exhausted from the tension of the vigil, the 
sun was cutting through the blinds, but 
the house seemed sunk ìn a pond. Then we 
realized that it was going on ten and we 
hadn’t been awakened by Miss Forbes's 
morning routine. We hadn't heard the toi- 
let flushing at eight o'clock or the bath- 
room faucet or the sound of the blinds or 
the heels of her boots and the three deadly 
raps of her slave driver's hand on the door. 
My brother pressed his car to the wall, 
held his breath so as to hear the slightest 
stirring of life in the next room and finally 
exhaled a sigh of liberation. 

“That's it," he said. “The only thing 
you can hear is the sea.” 

We fixed our own breakfast a Іше 
before 11, and then we went down to the 
beach with two oxygen tanks each and two. 
more in reserve before Fulvia Flaminea 
arrived, with her retinue of cats, to clean 
the house. Oreste was already оп the dock, 
cleaning a gilthead he had just caught. We 
told him we had waited for Miss Forbes 
until 11 o'clock, and since she was still 
sleeping, we had decided to come down to 
the water by ourselves. We also told him 
that she'd suffered a crying fit at the table 
and possibly hadn’t slept well and pre- 
ferred to stay in bed. Oreste, just as we'd 
expected, wasn’t interested in the explana- 


tion, and he accompanied us for an hour of 
wandering through the depths of the sea. 
Later, he told us to go up and have lunch, 
and then he went off in his motorboat to 
sell the giltheads at the tourist hotels. We 
waved goodbye from the stairs, pretending 
to be on our way up to the house until 
he disappeared around the escarpments. 
Then we put on full tanks of oxygen 
and went swimming without anyone’s 
permission 

The day was cloudy and there was a 
rumble of gloomy thunder on the horizon, 
but the sea was smooth and clear and the 
light it gave off was all we needed. We 
swam on the surface until we were lined up 
with the Pantelleria lighthouse, and then 
we turned about 100 meters to the right 
and dove where we calculated we'd scen 
the war torpedoes at the beginning of sum- 
mer. There they were: six of them, painted 
sunny yellow and with their serial num- 
bers intact and resting on the volcanic 
bottom in such perfect alignment that it 
couldn't have happened by chance. Then 
we continued around the lighthouse, look- 
ing for the sunken city that had so often, 
and with so much amazement, been 
described to us by Fulvia Flaminea, but 
we couldn't find it. After two hours, con- 
vinced that there were no new mysteries to 


“With all due respect, Reverend 
Falwell, I will continue to make out 
the list of who's been naughty and nice, just 
as I have always done.” 


discover, we came up through the surface 
on our last breath of ox: E 

While we'd been ng, a summer 
storm had come up; the sea was rough and 
a flock of fiercely screeching carnivorous 
birds hovered over the furrow of dying fish 
on the beach, but the afternoon light 
looked brand-new and life was good with- 
out Miss Forbes. But when we finished our 
laborious climb up the stone steps, we saw 
a lot of people at the house and two police 
cars by the door, and then, for the first 
time, we realized what we'd done. My 
brother started to tremble and tried to 
turn back. 

“Pm not going in,” he said. 

1, on the other hand, had the misguided 
inspiration that all we had to do was look 
at the corpse and we'd be safe trom all 
suspicion. 

“Take it casy,” I told him. “Take a deep 
breath and just think about one thing: We 
don't know anything.” 

Nobody paid attention to us. We 
dropped the oxygen tanks, masks and fins 
on the porch steps and went in through the 
side entrance, where two men sat on the 
floor, smoking, next to a ficld stretcher. 
Then we noticed an ambulance drawn up 
at the back door and several soldiers 
armed with rifles. In the living room, the 
neighborhood women were praying іп dia- 
lect, sitting in the chairs placed against the 
wall, while men gathered in the courtyard, 
talking about anything but death. I tight- 
ened my grip on my brother's hard, cold 
hand, and we went into the house through 
the back door. Our bedroom looked just 
the way we'd left it in the morning. In 
Miss Forbes’s room, next to ours, an 
armed carabiniére was keeping people out, 
but the door was open. With heavy hearts 
we looked inside, and as we did, Fulvia 
Flaminea burst out of the kiteh 
the door with a shout of horror: 
love of God, figlioli, don’t look at her!” 

It was too late. Never, for the rest of our 
lives, would we forget what we'd seen in 
that fleeting moment. Two civilian men 
were checking the distance from the bed to 
the wall with a tape measure, while 
another took pictures with a black-hooded 
camera, like the ones used by park photog- 
raphers. Miss Forbes wasn't on the 
unmade bed. She lay on her side on the 
floor, naked, in a pool of dried blood that 
had spread over the floor of the room, and 
her body was riddled with stabs. There 
were 27 fatal wounds and, from the num- 
ber and their obvious ferocity, it was 
deduced that they had been delivered with 
the fury of unappcasable love and that 
Miss Forbes had received them with thc 
same passion, neither shouting nor weep- 
ing, reciting Schiller with her beautiful sol- 
dier voice, accepting the fact that this was 
the inevitable price of her summer of hap- 
piness.— Translated by Francisco Goldman 


KARMIG CLEARINGHOUSE 


(continued from page 145) 
LL.U.s in their account, to draw upon 
as required. It’s the same as banking апу- 
where, except that we deal in 1.L.U.s in- 
stead of money.” 

“Are you telling me,” said Zimmerman, 
“that people can draw out good luck when 
they need it?” 

“That's it,” the clerk said. “Except that 
we don't have individual accounts. We're 
strictly planetary.” 

“Do all planets have accounts here?” 

“Oh, yes,” the clerk told him. “As soon 
as they develop abstract thought or better, 
we open an account for them. Then they 
can draw on it when things get out of 
hand—like when disease is raging or wars 
are flaring up or there are unaccountable 
droughts and famines. All planets have 
these runs. But with enough units of luck, 
you can usually ride them out. Don’t ask 
me the actual mechanics. Pm a banker, 
not an engineer. And with a little luck, 1 
won't even be a banker much longer.” 

* You're getting out of banking?" 

“Out of this entire construct,” the clerk 
said. “The Karmic Clearinghouse level is 
really very limited. There’s just this one 
building perched in the middle of a small 
nothingness. We do get hardship pay, but 
personally, Г'ус had enough.” 

“Where will you go?” 

“Ive picked quite a nice reality con- 
struct from the catalog. What with my 
pension and ту I.L.U. account, I expect 
to have a good time. The individual 1.L.U. 
account is one of the best things about 
working for the Universal Technocrat 
Also, the cafeteria isn’t bad, and we do get 
the latest movies.” 

A bell sounded within Zimmerman’s 
pocket, startling him. He took out the visi- 
tor's pass. It was flashing and ringing. The 
clerk pressed a corner and it stopped 

“That means your time is almost up,” 
the clerk said. “It’s been a pleasure talking 
with you, sir. We don’t get many visitors 
out this way. Our reality construct hasn't 
even got a hotel.” 

“Just a minute," Zimmerman said 
“What about Earth's account?” 

“105 right here in the bank. No one has 
ever come around to collect it.” 

“I'm here now,” Harry said. “Апа I'm 
Earth’s authorized representative. Oth- 
erwise, 1 wouldn't be here. Right?” 

The clerk nodded; he didn’t look happy 

“I want to draw out some of Earth's 
luck. For the whole planet, I mean, not 
just for myself. I don't know if you've 
checked us out lately, but we've got a lot of 
problems. Every year, we scem to get more 
war, pollution, famine, floods, typhoons, 
unexplained plane crashes—that sort of 
thing. Some of us are getting nervous. We 
could really use some luck 

“I knew someone from Earth would 
come along one of these days,” the clerk 
muttered. “I've been dreading this.” 

“What’s the matter? 


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account was here.” 

“It is. But there's nothing in it.” 

“But how could that be?” Zimmerman 
demanded. 

The clerk shrugged. “You know how 
banks operate. We have to show a profit.” 

“What does that have to do with Earth’s 
luck?” 

“We lent it out so it could carn some 
interest.” 

“You lent out Earth's luck?” 

The clerk nodded. “To the Associated 
Civilizations of the Lesser Magellanic 
Clouds. A first-class risk.” 

“Well,” Zimmerman said, “you'd better 


call it in now. 

“That’s the part I hate to tell you. 
Despite their very good credit rating. the 
Associated Civilizations of the L.M.C. 
recently vanished into a black hole. It’s the 
sort of space-time singularity that could 
happen to anyone.” 

“That's tough for them," Zimmerman. 
id. “But what about Earth’s luck?” 
There's по way we can recover it. It’s 
down there below the event horizon, with 
the rest of L.M.C.'s assets." 

“You lost our luck!” 

“Don’t worry; your planet is bound to 
accumulate more. I'm sorry, but there's 
nothing I can do about it.” 

The clerk’s sad smile and balding head 
began to dissolve. Everything was shim- 
mering and fading out, and Zim- 
merman knew that he was on his way 
back to New York. Here he was, the first 
human to get to another level of reality— 
the Columbus of the galaxy—and the only 
thing he had to tell the folks back home 
was that the Earth's luck had gone down a 
black hole; sorry about that. 


It wasn't fair. There had to be some- 
thing he could do to change things. 

But what? 

"That moment, ha 
fade-out, was deci 
Zimmerman. 

“Wait!” he cried to the clerk. “We gotta 
talk!” 

“Look, 1 already said I'm sorry.” 

“Forget about that,” Harry said. “Гус 


If in and half out of the 
n time for Harry 


got business to discuss with you.” 

The clerk made a gesture. The construct 
stopped fading. hat business?” 

“A loan.” 


“A luck loan?” 

“Of course, А big one. To tide us over 
until things straighten out.” 

“My dear sir,” the clerk said, “why 
didn't you say so? Lending luck is our 
business. Come with me.” 

Harry followed the clerk into the bank. 

Like Columbus taking the gold and 
pearls of Hispaniola back to Ferdinand 
and Isabella, so Harry Zimmerman, 
envoy involuntary, returned to the Karmic 
Clearinghouse to negotiate the luck loan 
that we Earth people so desperately 
needed. And that is the true story behind 
our present-day peace and prosperity here 
in the easygoing 21st Century. 

The interest has turned out to be a little 
steep: The Karmic Bank is not in this for 
its health. Harry had to put up the planet 
for collateral, and if we don't find a way to 
pay back the loan soon, there’s only one 
thing we can do. We'll have to hide out ina 
Chapter-13 black hole, the way the Associ- 
ated Civilizations of the L.M.C did. It’s a 
desperate measure, but anything's better 
than losing the planet. 


“So then I told him to fuck off but, ya know, 
cutelike. . ..." 


LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER 

(continued from page 117) 
in mind: the demand that each of them. 
serve the needs of the person who enjoys 
cross-country travel at spced and 
style. Here, in alphabetical order and with 
brief impressions of each, our long- 
distance runners. 

The Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro is a 
superb year-round vehicle that will be 
especially appreciated by those who want 
(or have) to drive through snow. This four- 
wheel-drive wonder takes to the high road 
with aggressive grace and is utterly insen- 
sitive to weather. But that’s only the 
beginning. The Audi delights technoids. 
The machine's 2226-c.c. turbocharged in- 
line five develops 158 horsepower, stout 
enough to satisfy the demands of cross- 
continent travel—and swift enough to reg- 
ister 0-60 mph in less than nine seconds. 
"The full-time four-wheel-drive system, as 
noted, gives the car a meteorologic versa- 
tility that’s altogether comforting. 

Audi backs up its impressive technical 
accomplishments with an interior done in 
tons of Teutonic efficiency and 
ed luxury. Sitting in an Audi, you 
feel enormously well taken care of. As the 
car moves swiftly down the freeway, 
odynamic skin banishes wind noise. And at 
about $29,000, the Audi banishes any doubt 
that it’s the best combination of perform- 
ance, versatility, luxury and value. 

The BMW 735i sedan and its smaller 
brother, the 635 CSi coupe, carry BMW’s 
blue-and-white Bavarian flag into the long- 
distance-driving competition. The 735i, 
though the flagship of the Bimmer fleet, 
leaves more to be desired than one might 
expect, For one thing, it feels large. For 
another, critical areas of the excellent ana- 
log instrumentation are rendered invisible 
by the stecring wheel, which just should 
not happen on a car built to conquer the 
autobahnen and interstates of the world. 

On Germany's high-speed autobahnen, 
however, the 735i comes into its own. It's 
bigger (а 110-inch wheelbase and 197.4- 
inch over-all length) and heavier (almost 
3600 pounds) than our idea of a BMW 
but these qualities add strength to the spir- 
ited quality of its freeway performance. 

Inside, the BMW attention to quality 
and construction are apparent, and there's 
no shortage of space. Four people could 
drive to kingdom come іп a BMW 735i 
and love every mile of it. At highway 
speed, the car's $37,000 price tag seems 
almost reasonable. 

The Buick Electra T Type comes as 
something of a surprise. Buick almost let 
itself build an enthusiast’s sedan here. The 
140-horsepower 3.8-liter V6 shoves the car 
along with a snap unexpected from most 
Buicks of recent vintage. 

The Electra, withits subdued, Euro-style 
trim, also looks like an enthusiast's car. 
Until you climb inside. The leather seats 
are just fine, but vestigial remnants of 
G.M. interior styling of the Sixties and 
Seventies remain, taking the form of too 


much chrome and fuzzy, polyester-looking 
fabric. 

Buick’s firm, well-balanced suspen: 
makes for an excellent partnership with 
the road, and the car's 110.8-inch wheel 
base preserves its pleasant ride. At about 
$18,000 fully loaded, the Buick Electra Т 
Type is an excellent buy. 

The Chrysler Fifth Avenue was far and 
away the most American-secming of the 
cars tested. Big, opulent, with rear-wheel 
drive and every “comfort and conven- 
ience" option known to Western man, at 
about $16,500, the 3750-pound Fifth Ave- 
nue is right at home taking the family on 
a 1500-mile jaunt to Six Flags or 
Disney World, its long (112.7-inch) 
wheclbase lending itself to sedate, sus- 
tained motoring. Powered by a 144 
horsepower 5.2-liter V8, the Fifth Avenue 
moves well. It also stops well. It docs not, 
however, feel quite as tight, taut and 
responsive as other big cars we tested. 

The $33,000 Jaguar XJ6 is a classic in 
every sense of the word. Long and low, 
with a body that’s cat sleek rather than 
aerodynamic slick, the 4100-pound sedan 
epitomizes the joys of stylish movement 
The seats are sensuous, supportive and 
comfortable, qualities that appreciably 
shorten long hours of driving. 

The mechanical problems that plagued 
Jaguars of earlier years have long since 
been remedied, resulting in a car that adds 
dependability to the driving rewards it 
also delivers. With its venerable straight- 
six, double-overhead-cam en 
has a gentlemanly acceleration curve that 
provides more than enough passing 
response 

Ofall the cars built in the United States, 
the Lincoln Mark VII LSC gives Ameri- 
can enthusiasts hope that we're finally on 
the right track. At about $24,000, the 
LSC 000 feels unmistakably like a BMW 
or a Mercedes, and its 108.5-inch wheel- 
base holds the road well. 

As you would expect from a Lincoln, the 
LSC is fitted with every luxury toy known, 
but the best of these is its engine. In what 
may be the last hurrah for the Ford 5.0- 
liter V8, the power plant has been given 
sequential-port fuel injection and 
improved cylinder heads. The result is a 
200-hp high-torque unit that's responsive 
enough to power a 3700-pound car 

Some drivers are happy only when 
they're at the controls of a car that rivals 
platinum ski poles for scarcity. Such a 
conveyance is the Maserati Quattroporte, 
a four-door touring sedan from the factory 
of Alejandro De Tomaso, the man who 
gave us the Pantera, the Merak and the 
quick little Biturbo. For about $67,000, he 
will give you a Quattroporte 

The Quattroporte is distinctive, On first 
sight, it seems utterly unadorned, with an 
exterior that defines understatement. But 
as you look closer, quality and workman- 
ship become apparent—the depth of the 
paint, the heft of the doors, thick seats cov- 
ered іп Italy’s finest leather and a discreet 


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application of Maserati’s famed trident 
emblem. 

When you're driving the Quattroporte, 
there's no doubt that you’re behind the 
wheel of a big car made for long stretches 
of unobstructed driving. A 110-inch wheel- 
base contributes to the car's outstanding 
ride, and the brawny 4.9-liter V8 pumps 
out about 280 horsepower, more than 
enough to move the 4800-pound automo- 
bile briskly 

The Mercedes-Benz 560SEL, costing 
more than $52,000, asks the question, Can 
any mass-produced four-door sedan possi- 
bly be worth that? The answer is yes. 
Before you've driven it 50 miles, the 
560SEL will have you thinking thoughts of 
$20,000 down payments and 84-month 
financing. 

Mercedes-Benz, with the 560SEL, con- 
tinues its tradition of starkly elegant interi- 
ors that are well thought out and 
thoroughly relaxing under sustained high- 
speed conditions. The 560SEL sits on a 
120.9-inch wheelbase, the longest to be 
found in the world of production passenger 
cars, and draws the power to move its 3900 
pounds from a 238-horscpower 5.6-liter 
V8. The power more than suffices, work- 
ing with a nimble suspension design that's 
arguably the best in the business. The 
560SEL, in sum, delivers a degree of driv- 
ing perfection unmatched by any other. 

For sufferers of that most pleasant of dis- 
cases, Francophilia, the Peugeot 505 
Turbo brings a double dose of civilized 
motoring medicine. The Peugeot ride 


continues to be a seductive combination 
of capability and comfort, and the 142- 
horsepower turbocharged 2.2-liter engine 
lends itself eagerly to passing situations 
and to sustained dri E 

The Peugeot's int › especially the 
front scat, presents a welcome roominess. 
The interior spaciousness stands in 
counterpoint to a lean exterior. The 
Peugcot/Pininfarina design, with its crisp 
lines and sloping hood, manages to make 
the car appcar smaller than it actually is, a 
spare 3200 pounds set on a 108-inch 
wheelbase. 

The handling is quintessentially 
French, with a soft feel and more body roll 
than most cars. The suspension setup flat- 
tens out corners nicely. The 505 Turbo 
requires no effort to drive and, being 
priced at only $18,000, requires even less 
effort to like. 

For Saab fans fond of driving great dis- 
tances, there’s good news in the form of 
the 9000, an all-new car from the Swedish 
makers of America’s cult-car success, the 
Saab 900. The 9000 shares no parts of any 
importance with the 900 other than the 
engine block—nor does it have the strange 
Saab exterior profile. 

The 9000 retains, however, that won- 
derful tiptoe agility so loved by Saabists. 
The driving position, visibility and instru- 
ment and control accessibility are superb. 
The new two-liter four, turbocharged and 
intercooled, uses 160 horsepower to send 
you on your way with vigor. Suspension 
refinements have resulted in flatter corner- 


“In a less sexually 
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kiss would break the spell and turn me back into a 
prince; but now it requires a blow job!” 


ing and improved over-all stability. 

Тһе interior of the 9000 is spacious and 
comfortable. Available only as a four-door 
hatchback, the Saab 9000 costs about 
$22,000, making it a terrific buy. 

One trip іп a Toyota Cressida will con- 
vince you of its worth as a freeway cruiser- 
Toyota’s largest car (3200 pounds and a 
104.5-inch wheelbase), the Cressida does 
offer some big-car advantages: perform- 
ance adequate for the highway and roomy 
leather seats that arc firm and comlort- 
able. The Cressida’s fit and finish, in the 
Japanese tradition, are superb. And if you 
enjoy electronic gadgetry, the Cressida 
will remind you of Christmas morning. 
The radio—incredibly—boasts 34 con- 
trols. 

The car’s ultrasmooth twin-cam six and 
its rear drive add to the gentle quality of its 
ride. The suspension and handling char- 
acteristics are just a bit less precise than 
one would wish for. 

105 important to remember that the 
large Toyotas began as scaled-down ver- 
sions of American cars. Thus, what you 
get with a Cress not a sports sedan 
that has been softened around its edges 
but a family sedan that has been tweaked 
in an effort to produce a car that’s at home 
on demanding roads. In the main, it 
succeeds— particularly when you consider 
that its base price is only $15,690. 

"The Volvo 740 Turbo isn't considered — 
by Volvo—the company's optimal high- 
way car. That honor is now bestowed on 
the 760 GLE, with its naturally aspirated 
V6, a slightly softer ride and fancier 
appointments. But for an aggressive 
assault on America's roads, the 740 Turbo 
is most appropriate. 

Volves are not the prettiest cars to look 
at— but for looking out of, they're hard to 
beat. Particularly when you're watching 
the countryside whistle past, moved rap- 
idly along by the compact 2.3-liter turbo- 
charged and intercooled four-cylinder that 
produces 160 horsepower. 

Inside, the Volvo displays a busincsslike 
array of instruments and controls. The 
seats are tall and firm. The 740's suspen- 
sion offers neutral, predictable handling 
that translates to a wonderful stability 
when you're under way. Its 109-inch 
wheelbase and generous interior spaces 
add measurably to a confidence-inspiring 
feel. The trim, inside and out, is an exer- 
cise in restraint. The rewards a 740 Turbo 
bestows, however, are joyously unre- 
strained and cost less than $20,000. 

Ovcrall, any of our long-distance run- 
ners would serve you well on long-haul 
tours. The Mercedes, the Jaguar and the 
Volvo sedans gave award-winning road- 
show performances, as did the Mark VII 
LSC coupe and the four-wheel-drive 
Audi—five very different cars. Driving 
these 12 cars reminded us of what's said 
about another pleasure: There's no bad, 
just different degrees of good. 


BROTHERS 


(continued from page 119) 
me the same way: as the big brother. I pre- 
fer being older. 1 like finding out things 
firsthand and being able to tell him about 
them. It must be the writer's side of me. 
The fact that he doesn’t listen is ОК. 

FRANK, 35: We're close, but we fight a lot. 
He's overbearing and I’m overbearing. So 
if I say, “What do you think of this proj- 
ect?” he puts on his director's hat and 
says, “Well, I think you should do this and 
that.” I say, “All I asked you is your opin- 
ion, not to take over the whole thing.” 

We fought horribly when we were kids 
When he got punished, he would take it 
out on me. One day, we were coming home 
from Catholic school wearing our uni- 
forms. I was messing around under a 
bridge around a construction site and 
crawled inside one of the big steel drums 
And he wouldn’t let me out of it for an 
hour. He was on the top of the bridge, 
throwing rocks at me. He was hitting the 
can on th 
Every time I stuck my head out, a rock 
would come flying by. I was about seven, 
and it was scar 

We shared the same room. He always 
got the top bunk and loved to get up in the 
morning and step on my head 

My brother never thought about being 
an actor back then, I don’t think he really 
knew what he wanted to do. He took one 
of those aptitude tests—it said he would 
be a good plumber. My mother flipped 
She had her sights set on him being Presi- 
dent or something like that. 

Critics who come down on what they 
call nepotism are ridiculous. Everything is 
nepotism. Look at Warner Bros. Look at 
the Zanucks. Anybody who becomes suc- 
cessful is going to give his family the first 
crack. Why should he give it to a stranger? 
But if you're not good, you're out 

What's the best thing about being the 
younger brother? Your brother's older girl- 
friends think, Oh, isn’t he cute. You're like 


side, and it madc a lot of noise 


a smaller version of the guy they’re going 
out with. That meant I wouldn't get beat 
up when his girlfriends were around. 


THE GATLINS (country-music artists) 


LARRY, 37: I write the songs. Im the lead 
singer, and I’m sure it’s difficult for my 
brothers sometimes. Harmony is an in- 
tegral part of what we do, but sometimes I 
step out and sing the lead. It must be chaf- 
ing at times to sce that I’m recognized 
when we walk into restaurants because 
I'm the one who sits with Mr. Carson and 
talks. Both Steve and Rudy handle it very 
well. 

I'm the leader as far as the music goes 
Steve is more reserved. He handles the 
business on the daily basis and really digs 
helping with the logistics and planning. 
Rudy? I don’t know what he does. 

People figure mothers like the oldest 
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said that related to that. Brother Steve had 
just become a member of the church, but 
Rudy was still not old enough. After Steve 
was baptized, Rudy complained, “Why 
can't I join? Don't you love me as much as 
Steve and Lari Mom said, “Rudy, I 
love you just as much, just not as long.” 
That's one of the good things about being 
the oldest . . . she loved me longest. 

I guess I'm like my daddy. We're both 
very headstrong to the point of being 
downright obstinate. There is a kind of 
doggedness, a West Texas work ethic, that 
1 also carry over from my father. Rudy is 
getting more like Dad but takes after 
Mother's side of the family physically in 
that he is tall and gaunt. Rudy is a free 
spirit. He's not married, but he holds 
nightly auditions. He thinks differently 
from Steve and me. We're married and 
responsible for our families. 

All three of us have our differences. Our 
common thread of music and the feelings 
we have for one another keep us from 
knockdown, drag-out fights. We don’t visit 
one another a lot, but we do spend a lot of 
time together, competing in sports, meet- 
in the office four or five times a week. 

STEVE, 34: I take care of the business: 
dealing with promoters, signing contracts 
and deciding where we work or what TV 
shows we’re going to be on. I don’t know 
how I got that role. It kind of fell on me 
after our first Grammy іп 1976. I put the 
band on the road and I became the bus 
driver, the sound man and the road man- 
ager. I'm the most levelheaded, the most 
consistent. Larry calls me Gibraltar. 

Larry didn’t get away with much. He 
was the front runner and the oldest. Rudy 
in his early years was very stubborn, and 
he still is set in his ways. He got away with 
more later, being the youngest. My par- 
ents were broken in and maybe a little less 
Strict with him. Still, in those very early 
years, as a baby, he was the one in the 
cookie jar a little more often than us, and 
he got his ass busted more. And me, well, 
the middle child always feels deprived. 

Larry and I were usually the ones who 
got Rudy in trouble. Naturally, you have 
to pick on the littlest brother. I remember 
one Christmas we talked Rudy, who was 
four or five, into opening his Christmas 
present before Christmas. Dad and Mom 
were out of the house and we told him we'd 
wrap it back up so they'd never know. Just 
as he got it unwrapped, Mom and Dad got 
home. It was a brand-new cowboy belt 
and Dad used it on him. We said, “Hey, 
ме tried to tell him not to open it!” 

When we're on the road, we try our best 
to stay away from one another. I think 
that’s one of the reasons we're successful 
and get along so well. When you see your 
brother on the stage and are forced 
together through occupation, you need 
room to be individuals. When we stay at 
hotels, I ask them to put us on different 
floors if possible. Lots of times, we don’t 
see one another until we walk on stage. I 
like eating steak—I love steak—but not 


three times a day. 

RUDY, 33: Yeah, I’m the most stubborn. 
It's my basic nature. I’ve had to live with 
it for 33 years now. I guess I worry more 
about things. 

Following them in school was pretty tough 
on me. Larry and Steve were both out- 
standing in athletics. I wasn’t. They were 
really good in the classroom. I wasn't. 
Everyone said, “You're not like your broth- 
ers.” I would answer, “You're right.” 

When you're a kid, you look up to other 
kids, I wanted to be just like them, and 
both were equally influential. 

Steve’s very methodical, intense, the 
type to say, “This is the way we're 
do it, this is why, now let’s go do 
takes care of the business. Larry is the 
writer, more sensitive. He is gentle at 
times, But all of us have our moments 
when we come across as real hard. When 
we're shot at, we shoot back. 

They say I'm the most like Mom. I 
don’t know why they say that, except for 
our physical appearance. Larry and Steve 
took more after Dad. My mom was always 
the rock—real steady through the years. I 
like to think I’m pretty steady. 

My brothers married in their early 20s. 
I think they have lovely wives. In fact, they 
married girls like Mom. As soon as I find 
‘one like them, maybe ГЇЇ settle down. 


THE MAHRES (Skiers) 


PHIL, 28 (he is four minutes older): There 
are a lot of twins who hamper each other's 
performances because of the way they 
compete. However, Steve and I used that 
sibling rivalry as a positive thing. If one 
did well, the other did better. We had no 
hang-ups about it. I wasn’t competitive 
with him, I competed with him. There’s a 
difference. He prodded me into testing 
myself. I always felt if he could do it, I 
could do it. It wasn't a matter of proving it 
to him but of proving it to myself. 

We always felt we were each other’s best 
coaches. Our skiing is similar but not the 
same. We were always the first to see what 
the other needed to work on, and we 
always studied the courses together before 
competitions. The person who went down 
the slope first would radio back informa- 
tion to the one on the top. There are very 
few people on the world circuit who do 
that. And even if they share some informa- 
tion at the bottom, they don’t communi- 
cate the way we do. I remember Marc 
Girardelli from Austria overheard us once 
and said, “I thought I understood English 
until I listened to the Mahres." We have 
our own language. When we were building 
a house together with a team member, 
Johnny Buxman, the three of us would 
look at a blueprint and then Steve and I 
might say two words or maybe just ex- 
change glances and walk off in separate di- 
rections, both knowing what we were 
going to do. Johnny would be left standing 
there, scratching his head. 

We don’t spend as much time together 
anymore; maybe we see each other once or 


twice a week. But you never lose that abil- 
ity to communicate. I don’t think much 
about ESP between twins. When we're 
together, we'll be thinking the same way, 
but I don't think there's anything psychic. 

My wife, Holly, is a twin and her grand- 
mother was a twin as well, so I guess 
there’s a good chance we might have twins 
someday. What would I tell them about 
being a twin? That you have to be aware of 
yourself as an individual, But there's noth- 
ing bad about being a twin. I enjoy it 

STEVEN, 28: Being twins and skiing to- 
gether has always been a tremendous 
advantage. In White Pass, Washington, 
there were not many kids to play with 
except my brothers. Without Phi would 
have been pretty boring; I don't know if I 
would have taken all the time to ski. We 
used to do our homework on the way home 
and ski until dinner. 

Sibling competition does have some- 
thing to do with our achievements. If you 
don’t have someone to make you try 
harder, you just get by. If I won, he would 
try harder and then I would try harder. 
When we got to the world-class level, there 
were a lot of others to try to beat. Still, we 
always compete with each other, too. 

In the 1984 Sarajevo Olympics, he beat 
me, but it might have turned out a differ- 
ent way. He was willing to get on the radio 
and tell me what to do to beat him. That's 
the way we’ve worked for the past four 
years. If 1 don’t win, he'd better. 

Our relationship is more like best 
friends than brothers, almost. We enjoy 
being together, and envy is nonexistent. 
We've always palled around together. 
“There was only one time when we fought, 
at 12 or 13. I don't know what it was 
about, but I hit him in the face and he 
started erying. It was the last time it came 
to fists. 

We were kind of momma's boys when 
ме were young. If Mom was carrying one 
of us, she had to carry the other one, too. I 
guess we were jealous of Mom's attention. 

The only time we ever switched identi- 
ties was in 1982. I had won the world 
championship in Austria. A guy named 
Bibbo was giving a speech after dinner. 1 
placed an overseas call to my wife, and 
when the call came through, we were at 
dinner. I had been talking to her for about 
40 minutes when Phil came in and said, 
“Bibbo wants to give his speech, but he 
won't until you come down.” I wanted to 
keep talking to my wife, so Phil put on my 
shirt and medal and sunglasses and went 
back so Bibbo would give his speech. 

Back in school, I think most kids 
thought of us as the Mahre brothers. We 
had a lot of nicknames—Wus and Pus, the 
Hair Bear Bunch. | have no idea why. At 
home, we were Steamer and Beamer. 

We enjoy doing most things together, 
and if I'm doing something with other 
friends and he's not there, it’s kind of 
empty. Ten days apart seems long. I know 
him as well as any living person, but I 
don’t know what goes on inside. I know 


how he thinks on skis, but what he thinks 
off by himself, 1 have no idea. 


THE KEACHES (actors) 


stacy, 44: When James was born, my 
grandmother toldme I had a baby brother 
as fat as a little butterball. We had a family 
celebration in which I drank my first 
Coca-Cola. I was very happy. I remember 
feeling, Thank God. Now I don't have to 
go through it alone 

I was always absolutely bossy. I remem- 
ber taking my brother into the back yard 
when 1 was in high school and he was 
coming out of grammar school and teach- 
ing him the rudiments of football. He went 
on to become an excellent athlete, far 
beyond my ability. 

Later, after I finished Yale, I was called 
back as a lecturer in residence. The irony 
was that my brother became one of my 
students. We roomed together in New 
Haven for a year. We had fun, but it was a 
difficult time for us both. He was strug- 
gling for independence. There was always 
an enormous stack of dirty dishes— 
literally up to the ceiling. 

There are alw 


s things brothers feel 
guilty about. When he was very young, 1 
loved to play with him. Once, I dressed 
him up like a king and made a platform 
with a couple of chairs—one on top of 
another—for him to sit on as his throne. 
He fell and cut up his chin. I remember 
fecling very guilty. 

The best thing about having a brother is 
the camaraderie and companionship. The 
worst thing, I suppose, is the responsibil- 
ity if you are the older one. 

We got cach other into trouble, but 
once, he got us out of trouble. I was 16 and 
was driving with a friend. James was ten 
and was along with us. We were throwing 
snowball oranges at trash cans, and sud- 
denly a burly sheriff pulled us over and got 
out of the car, snarling, “How would you 
boys like to spend the night in jail?" My 
brother began to cry. The cop felt sorry for 
him, so he let us go. 

The Wright Brothers was our first film 
together, and we had the chance to experi- 
ence those two characters іп a special way 
In it, there is a wonderful scene that 
Jimmy and I wrote. The two are playing 
checkers and the older brother says, “Do I 
intimidate you? Even though I'm bossy 
and overbearing, and sometimes I give the 
impression of not being compassionate, I 
really do value your love.” It's a very per 
sonal scene and one of the best. I think in 
many ways it reflects our fraternal rela- 
tionship. There is also one scene where we 
get into a fight on the beach. He gets the 
upper hand and threatens to hit me 
because, suddenly, he realizes that he is 
stronger. But he catches himself and 
comes back to earth 

My brother and I always keep in touch, 
either by letter or by phone, whenever we 
are separated for a length of timc. But my 
incarceration [in London, for cocaine po: 
session] was definitely the most intense 


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PLAYBOY 


194 


corresponding period of cur relationship. I 
was allowed to write only one letter a week 
and receive one two-hour visit every 28 
days. But I could get all the mail that 
came, and my brother wrote me terrific 
letters. He was extremely supportive: He 
looked after my parents, kept the home 
fires burning, wrote a lot and came to visit. 
He even offered to find the guys who had 
sct me up. 

Outside of one visit cvery 28 days, the 
only contact you have in the rather grim 
setting of prison is letters. I really ap- 
preciated getting them. My brother's son 
also wrote and sent me his latest work, 
which I used to adorn the walls of my 
cell. 

JAMES, 38: I got away with more, but I 
also didn't get as much. I had to take my 
turf, because his turf had already been 
covered. Imagine following the guy. My 
mother said lightning struck the housc 
when my brother was born. I make jokes, 
but she did say that. And I always got the. 
impression that's what happened. 

Being younger is harder. You're always 
following in someone's footsteps. In acting 
class at Grant High School, the teacher 
announced that she had seen this wonder- 
ful actor in Ashland, Oregon. She opened 
up the brochures, and there was my 
brother. It was hard to get up alter that. 
When 1 started out in the business, people 
were always saying “1 saw your brother 
іп..." You wonder if it's ever going to 
stop. After a while, you begin to realize it's 
actually a compliment to you. But that’s 
one of the barriers you have to overcome. 

One of the insights I gained while work- 
ing on The Long Riders, though, was that 
the older brother always worries that the 
younger is gaining on him. Maybe this guy 
is coming on. But I'll always be Stacy's kid 
brother. At 70, he'll say, “Come on, kid.” 


THEEVERLYS (singers) 


bon, 35; Phil and I have been singing to- 
gether all our lives. When we were kids, I 
started singing harmony with my father. 
When Phils voice matured, his was 
higher, so he started harmony. We've got a 
good voice blend. ІГІ change melody, Phil 
changes right with me. Being related helps 
immensely as far as the sound goes. It has 
been a tradition in country music that 
family members sing together. 

In the Forties and Fifties, we were grow- 
ing up singing on radio, The kids at school 
were not even aware we were doing this. 
Our radio life was kind of a secret life, 
basically. 

Both of us were late bloomers. We never 
got into trouble and were always the clean- 
est-cut kids. І didn't say “Hell” until I 
was 20. From then on, I guess, I made up 
for lost time. I am two years older than 
Phil. I don't think I was the ty 1 older 
brother, but I tried to be dominating musi- 
cally. Being older meant I had to break the 
ice. Our parents were very strict, and it’s 
harder for the first. 1 couldn't go out late, 
anyway, because 1 had to be up at five aM 


for the radio show. Our dates could always 
stay out later than we could. Phil was on 
the track team and the basketball team 
and got better grades. I was an average 
student, because it didn’t interest me. We 
had morning shows and noon shows, and 
there really wasn’t much time for a social 
life. Ours was not a normal childhood. 

We're not very alike, It's important to 
spend time away from each other. When 
we broke up, we didn’t think we would get 
back together again for a long time. 

So we became estranged. Time can pass 
very quickly. You can never go back and 
make up for those years. So my advice to 
anyone who hasn't spoken to his brother 
for a long time is, call him up. I called 
Phil. I was the one who said, “Don’t call 

ne,” so I figured it was my turn. 

PHIL, 47: | wasn’t planning on stopping 
performing. That's something Donald felt, 
and the need was greater for him than it 
was for me. I have a tendency, partly be- 
cause I'm the younger brother, to flow 
along. It was an awlully big factory to 
close down. It took a lot of balls, and 
Donald’s got them. 

1 think Pm a little less serious than 
Donald. He was always kind of out front, 
having to do the heavy lifting. 

When we were on the radio in Knox- 
ville, Tennessee, I was going with a girl 
whose brother was in Donald's class. 
Donald was fairly fast with the ladies, In 
those days, we had ducktails, which could 
scare a parent teal good. Anyway, she 
broke off with me because her brother had 
told her parents that Donald was real fast 
with the girls and it was a bad idea for her 
to be going out with me. I was not old 
enough to have a reputation, so I got his. 

We were both raised very strictly, and [ 
think Donald got the brunt of it. Mother 
was always on his case. 1 probably got 
away with more. I was a great one for slip- 
and sliding—you know, hiding in the 
shadows. 1 could watch the arguments he 
got into and see which way the wind was 
going to blow on a given issue and know 
how I would be standing in two years. 

He was never bossy, morc of a live-and- 
let-live guy. When we were young, we 
shared a folding sofa. It was an interesting 
way to grow up—with his feet in my face. 

We always had separate friends. That’s 
another thing about singing together. 
You're pictured in everyone's mind as hav- 
ing that ultracloseness. But it wasn't like 
that. And when we were young, like when 
1 started dating, | wouldn't want to hang 
out with Donald. What kind of chances 
docs a 14-year-old guy have getting a girl 
with a 16-year-old guy hanging around? 1 
had no chance if Don was there. Zero. 

We've spent more time together than 
most brothers I know. Even if Don and I 
had been running the Everly Brothers 
Deli, there would have been pressures. But 
if you add to that the artistic aspect, 
there's even more pressure. 

Don sang the lead. The harmony can't 
dictate what the lead is going to do or how 


many twirls you're going to put in it. I 
always understood, though, the value of 
what I contributed 
We always agrecd on the songs that 
became hits. It wasn’t a matter of thinking 
or talking it over; you felt it or you didn't. 
How did we get back together? We 
started talking on the phone. I was in 
Europe and stopped in to sec him in Ten- 
nessee afterward. It was up to him to end 
our long separation and up to me to be 
receptive. Even if we didn't wind up work- 
ing together, just getting together would 
have been the rightest thing we could have 
done, because, you know, something could 
happen—like you could die. It’s that sim- 
ple. We went to lunch together and it was 
like being on the good side of the relation- 
ship instead of where we were at the very 
end. And it was fun. He’s very funny, you 
know. So we spent the lunch laughing 
The first time our voices joined in song 
together after those ten years was in a re- 
hearsal hall we hired in Nashville. It was 
Bye Bye Love. Without tooting our horn, 
we both sing very well separately, But the 
first few notes that we sang together were 
the most fun, the most revealing of revela- 
tions. [t was a little bit like jumping into a 
pool without sticking your toc in first. 
Before we went out on the stage at 
Albert Hall for our reunion concert, I 
guess it felt like two parachutists fixing to 
jump offa plane. Wc didn't really say any- 
thing to cach other. What can you say? 


THE QUAIDS (actors) 


RANDY, 35: My first memory of Dennis is 
when they brought him home from the 
hospital. I remember seeing him in a little 
bassinet and experiencing my first pangs 
ofjealousy. Until then, I had been the only 
child and was used to getting all the atten- 
tion- 1 remember watching my mother 
nursing him and feeling jcalous because I 
wasn't able to nurse. We had this awful old 
nanny, Miss Box. Mother was always 
sending me out of the room to Miss Box, 
which upset me. I got Miss Box, the ulti- 
mate hag, and he got Mom. 

Dennis got away with more while we 
were growing up. My parents were very 
cautious with me, because I was the first, I 
didn’t get to go out on dates until I was 16 
or 17. Then Dennis came along, and at 14 
or so he was allowed to go out. He was 
always considered the baby of the family 
and got preferential treatment. 

Of course, b: older gave me a 
tremendous advantage when we were 
growing up, because I could beat the hell 
out of him and make his life miserable for 
the first 16 years. It gave me a nice thrill. 

The meanest thing I ever did to him was 
hitting him so hard once, he didn’t speak 
to me for four days. He told on me, of 
course. | was about 14 then. 

The meanest thing he ever did to me 
was becoming successful. 

I got to Hollywood first. He showed up 
about three years later. | wanted him to 

(continued overleaf) 


BERNARD NI 


БЕ. TONIRO,FRED ASTAIKE, 
JAMES GARNER, POK NICHOLSON. 


2 


ШЕ A ore “CLOSE, ENOTES, CONE, MERYL STREEP ДЕСА LANGE 
cr DES KA "ОНКИ ON Л DIANA ROSS, KATHLEEN TORUER, 
р AD T^ TIVA TURNER, LANA TURNER, 


PLAYBOY 


change his name, but he wouldn't. Despite 
that, I did help him in any way I could, 
introduced him to my agent and all that. 

For a time, he lived next door to mc. It 
really pissed me offat first. He was the first 
one to buy a house, because he had all this 
money coming in. So he bought a house 
right in front of me. I had to grow up shar- 
ing a bedroom with him till I was 16. І 
was trying to get away from him, living a 
separate life, and he went and bought a 
house right next door. 

The best thing about having a brother is 
having another man you are really close 
to, somebody you feel understands. The 
worst thing about having a brother has 
pretty much passed for me. That's sharing 
the love, the parents and the toys. He was 
always after my toys. We had a lot of 
fights. 1 used to love hearing him scream, 
“Ма--Капау is bothering me." 

Fd say Mother liked Dennis better 
when we were growing up. But I think she 
likes me the best now. 


DENNIS, 50: Mom really likes me best, to 
tell you the truth. Mom will say she likes 
both of us equally, of course. But the 
younger gets the better end of the stick in 
some ways. He gets to do all the stuff the 
older one didn't, because the parents are 
cooled down by the time he comes along. 

I'm more like Dad than Randy is. I even 
look like my father, so they say. Maybe 
Randy's more like Mom. It’s hard to say. 
He has some of her qualities. 

What I remember best about our child- 
hood was his being bigger than 1 was. 
Now he's 6'5". He's always been a big guy. 
And we always had a really good relation- 
ship. We went through all the sibling stuff, 
like him torturing me when I was a kid, us 
nagging at each other. But we've remained 
very close for some reason. I think were 
closer than most brothers, especially ones 
who are in the same business. 

We're also a rarity among acting broth- 
ers. Usually, brothers are up for the same 
roles because they happen to look alike. 


“To sum up about Santa, he’s partly a man and partly 
а woman; in short, a kind of hermaphrodite.” 


Randy and I are never up for the same 
roles, so that kind of competition is out. 

I think the brothers who can fight with 
each other are the closest, as long as you 
never let it get so bad that you walk away 
and say “PI never talk to you again.” Not 
that it hasn’t crossed my mind. But we 
always come back together. 

I actually started acting in junior high, 
though Randy will contend I wasn't really 
serious. Randy was the first one to say, “І 
want to be an actor." I really wonder if it 
had anything to do with my becoming an 
actor, too. Both Randy and I had a won- 
derful acting teacher named Cecil Pickett. 
Randy led me to it, but if it weren't for 
Pickett, P'd be repairing lawn mowers. 

My brother is away and returns tomor- 
row. ГИ see him then. Afterward, he's 
going off again for four months. I miss him 
when I don't see him a lot. 


‘THE HINESES (actors, dancers) 


MAURICE, 42: The last thing we did to- 
gether was Eubie! on Broadway іп 1978. 
Then, when Francis Coppola was working 
on The Cotton Club, Gregory, who was 
already in the cast, called me and said, 
“You've got to see the script. It’s so much 
like our life.” 

In the movie, we break up our act as 
brothers and almost come to blows. It 
happened that way in real life. After 25 
years of performing together, we realized 
we had to break up our own act to save 
ourselves as brothers. Musically, we were 
off in different directions. He wanted to go 
into a white rock-'n'-roll kind of sound; I 
wanted to go more into theater. When we 
were working as Hines, Hines and Dad, 
everything was done for us. Neither of us 
knew much, but we knew we had to break 
up. In the movie, we do the same thing, 
and we reunite dancing. In real life, we 
reunited in Eubie! We danced and then 
hugged and kissed each other, because we 
loved dancing together. In the movie, it 
happens the same way. 

Breaking up was something we both 
needed to do to become men. We were 
fighting all the time. We were not individu- 
als, we were the Hines brothers. When we 
broke up, he wound up selling guitar 
strings in Venice while I was selling shirts 
in New York. There were no jobs for us in 
the business. For me, it was very difficult. 
It was like Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin. I 
played the straight man. It never occurred 
to anyone that I was talented. 

My first memory of Gregory is of the 
day my mother brought him home from 
the hospital, put him on ıhe bed and said, 
“This is your baby.” He looked so beauti 
ful, this big, flufly thing. People often 
ask me, “Didn't you ever resent your 
brother?” No, I didn’t. I just wanted him 
to be happy. I always felt I was supposed 
to protect him. Now he tries to protect me. 
I'm a bit too honest for my own good. He 
has already called me about this interview 
to warn me to be careful. Mom, too. 

We shared the same bedroom, but we 


Alive 
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Newport 


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ғ | 3 


Ң smoking isn't a pleasure, 
why bother? 


After all, = 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Smoking 
By Pregnant Women May Result in Fetal 
Injury, Premature Birth, And Low Birth Weight. 


PLAYBOY 


never fought much. 1 remember he used to 
get his way a lot. He was very pretty. 1 was 
not pretty. Perhaps I’m being too reveal- 
ing, but I’m going to tell you something 
Гуе never talked about before. You see, in 
black families of that type, to look white 
was a bonus. My mother’s side of the fam- 
ily was Portuguese, and my brother took 
after her. I looked like my father’s side, 
with black features. I realized that very 
early, and it was confusing to me as a 
child—somehow, my brother would get 
certain things because of the way he 
looked. But we were the only children, and 
my mother loved us both equally. She 
didn't react to her sons the way the rest of 
the family did, After all, she had married 
my father, and he didn’t have white fea- 
tures. My father was a big, black, good- 
looking man, and she loved him, too. 

I was always the kid who did what he 
was told. I took out the garbage, walked 
the dogs, made the bed. Gregory went to 
the park. I was always in the house, doing 
my homework. I got better grades until 
Mom cracked down on him. But when 
Gregory gets interested in something, he 
really throws himself into it. 

He used to get into more trouble than I 
did. Sometimes, like when he wasn’t home 
by dark, I would try to cover for him. 
When we were doing The Cotton Club, 1 
found myself in that same position. I'd be 
walking around and they'd say, "Where's 
your brother?” It was like we were litde 
kids again. I was always there on time, 
and Gregory always came late but was so 
charming no one cared. 

We don’t talk often on the phone. We 
don’t hang out together. But we live three 
blocks from each other. We always seem to 
gravitate to cach other. 

GREGORY, 39: We performed for our first 
25 years together as Hines, Hines and 
Dad, and most of those years were very 
enjoyable. But once J got to be an adult 
and started to form my own feelings and 
values about working, it started breaking 
down. We wanted to go in different direc- 
tions creatively. I had been working my 
whole life, most of the time doing what 
everybody else thought best. It’s not that I 
was ordered to do anything, but every- 
thing was a group agreement. I wanted to 
make my own decisions, and because 
Maurice and [ were disagreeing so much 
at this point, our relationship as brothers 
was deteriorating. 1 knew no way to save it 
other than to split up as artists. 

Dancing with Maurice is a magical 
experience that’s hard to put into words. 
It’s always a pleasure because of the foun- 
dation we built. We know each other so 
well. I can rely on him and have tremen- 
dous confidence in him. I’ve danced with a 
lot of people who are really talented, but 
it’s not the same experience. 

One reason I can enjoy working with 
him now is that I know it’s not going to be 
all the time. We think very differently as 
artists. And if you're an artist who works 
live, you especially want to make your own 


decisions. That's what happened with 
us—we both wanted to do it our way. But 
once we split up, we became much closer 
as brothers, and that makes me happy. 

I always got away with more. Maurice 
was really a good boy, into listening. It 
may have been that I was more curious. 
Maurice got the better grades. When 1 
was eight, I saw an incredible performance 
by an improvisational dancer and decided 
that was what I wanted to do. I spent my 
free time trying to make up steps. Even 
though we had an act, I didn’t enjoy prac- 
ticing the same steps over and over. 

When we were growing up, my outgoing 
nature worked the act. I was spontaneous 
‘on stage and would make faces, and so on, 
which put me in the role of being the 
comedian. Early on, Maurice encouraged 
me and responded as the straight man, 
helping set things up. It was never 
planned or discussed. I think Maurice felt 
overlooked in those formative years. Peo- 
ple would come backstage and talk mostly 
about me. In our business, the straight 
man goes unseen if he does his job really 
well. I remember we were kids when Dean 
Martin and Jerry Lewis split up, and often 
we would be compared to them. So when 
Dean Martin did real well in the movies, 
Maurice felt encouraged. But not until we 
split up as an act did he concentrate on 
himself. It seems like he was always con- 
centrating on making me look good. 


THE SMOTHERSES (comedians) 


том,48: One thing Dickie will never be is 
the older brother. There is a psychological 
edge when you have that little extra time 
on him. Гуе met a lot of twins, and | 
always ask, “Which is the older?” They al- 
ways have an immediate answer—even 
though the difference is only a few min- 
utes. Dickie can be the more dominant, 
but he can never be older. 

I'm the businessman, the negotiator. In 
all other areas except the act itself, I take 
the typical older-brother role. But in the 
act, it’s all turned around. The older 
brother should be the straight man. 

Just like brothers do when they're kids, 
we still fight. It's not so much fighting as 
a constant, consistent disagreement on 
trivia. But the important thing is, we pull 
together when times get tough. In a crisis, 
we're always protective of each other. 

I used to say, “If I had been an only 
child and God had lined up ten or 15 
brothers for me to pick from, 1 wouldn't 
have chosen him.” Га probably choose 
someone the same as те. 

When we were going through those 
fights with CBS in 1969, Dick was out rac- 
ing automobiles in Sebring. He would 
check in with me on the big fight. He'd 
say, “Arc you right? OK. Go ahead.” That 
fight put us out of business for ten years, 
But never once did he say, “You blew the 
show.” Once we commit ourselves, there is 
no second-guessing. 

We're constantly being mixed up with 
each other when we're alone. People call 


him Tom and me Dick, But when were 
together, they know our correct names. 
It’s like we're not real unless we're 
together. 

I thought I could be a stand-up comic 
by myself. But Гуе come to the conclusion 
after a lot of years that we're inexorably 
attached. Each of us will die being known 
as one of the Smothers Brothers. And that 
didn't seem so bad after a while. 

DICK, 47: If you're a younger brother, you 
don't even think about it, because that's 
all you've ever been. 1 have no idea what 
it’s like not to have a brother. Yet to me, 
it’s a very personal thing. I'm always sur- 
prised when one of my kids calls the other 
one brother. It’s like Tommy and me are 
the only ones. 

As older brothers will do, Tomıny takes 
on the leadership role, and sometimes, 
when he's not right and gets lost and 
doesn't know what to do, he has to deal 
with the frustration. The younger child, on 
the other hand, is used to letting the other 
one have his way, even when he thinks his 
own way is correct. Then, when things 
don't go right, he has the pleasure of being 
able to go, “Na-na-na-na-na.” It’s almost 
like going through life as a Monday- 
morning quarterback. Still, if I get into 
trouble, І want him to get me ош ofit. 

I think Tommy is a little disappointed 
that he didn't make it in movies. It's a nat- 
ural thing to want to make it on your own. 
He got discouraged too easily and quit too 
soon. When you're very successful in one 
area, it’s sometimes harder to pick up 
another craft. And being a comedian 
doesn't automatically prepare you for film 
acting. 

I encouraged him to keep on acting. I 
don’t think there is anything either onc of 
us could be successful at that the other one 
would be jealous of. I can’t work alone. 
‘There is no market for single straight men. 
But I still want success for him. If it 
turned out he was very good in movies, 
maybe I'd be a producer. There's nothing 
wrong with nepotism. 


THE CARRADINES (actors) 


DAVID, 49: I never got to know Keith and 
Bobby until they were grown up. The cen- 
ter of the family sort of shifted to the 
brothers, half brothers and stepbrothers 
rather than our father factor John 
Carradine}. There was no doubt that he 
was head of the family, but when he 
moved out of town and concentrated on 
his fourth wife, Keith and Bobby and I 
were in L.A., trying to make it in show 
business, so we palled around. In recent 
years, I've become the closest to Bobby. I 
took care of him the last few years he was 
in high school. He lived with me, and I 
would send him down to school on his 
bicycle every day. 

Keith lived with me for a while. І had 
already been acting for a decade when he 
moved in. As a matter of fact, I used to 
move in and out of houses. And when Pd 
move ош, Га move Keith in. For a while 


we lived together, and then I thought he 
should strike out on his own. He really 
didn’t want to, so I gave him my house. I 
thought he needed to be his own man, not 
have a big brother watching over him. 1 
had to do the same thing with Bobby. 
One time, I told Keith, “Stop asking me 
all these questions. Don't you understand 
Fm just making up the answers—just 
using logic? You can make up the answers 
ourself.” And he actually took it to heart 
and walked out of my life. 1 hardly saw 
him for five or six ycars while he was 
building his own manhood. 
play the paternal role? No 
is bigger than 1 am, and he 
has his stuff together. He's a family man 
and he has his finances together. He has a 
beautiful house out in Topanga, with lots 
of property. Bobby is more of a kid, but I 
couldn't say he asks me for advice. 


BRO 


Once, I came close to going after one of 
my brothers’ girlfriends. Bobby and I 
didn’t share the girl: it was actually after 
they broke up that I got sweet on her. It 
almost destroyed the brotherhood. 

I don't see Keith enough. He's a really 
busy guy. He's got a new marriage, a 
young son, and his career is really break- 
ing right now. And I’m as busy as hell. I 
don't have time for anything. Bobby lives 
just three blocks from me. We go up there 
and ride, talk about cars and motorcycles 
or play music. 

KEITH, 35: I have half brothers, ІШІ broth- 
ers, stepbrothers. Its incredibly com- 
plicated. I share a common mother and 


father with Bobby and Christopher [an ar- 
chitect]. I share a father only with David. 
And I share a mother only with Michael 
Bowen [an actor]. 

I feel very close to David, though not as 


ж 


Clockwise from top left, Bobby ond Keith 
Corrodine ot a birthdoy porty, with о friend 
(not David) between them. That's Stocy hold- 
ing James Keoch; Tom ond Dick Smothers 
looking very military; Steven and Phil Mohre, 
opres-ski; Gregory ond Mourice Hines, with 
ears; Dennis ond Rondy Quoid borebock; 
Don and Phil Everly woking up Little Susie; 
ond the Gotlins in order: Lorry, Steve ond 
Rudy. Rambo and bro’ ore missing in action. 


close as we once were. I think that’s be- 
cause when I really got to know David, he 
was in his late 20s or early 30s and I was 
just passing from being a teenager into 
being a man. 

It was in my last yearin high school that 
I decided to look David up. I was basically 
a pretty straight, law-abiding kid. But 1 
knew that David smoked grass, and this 
was something I wanted to know about. I 
figured, What better way to get a little 
grass and smoke some and sce what it is 
than to find David? A friend and I went to 
his "pad"— that should be in quotes— 
where we proceeded to have what we all 
thought was this incredibly bohemian, 
beatnik, hippie-type evening. 

I found his stereo, looked through his 
records and picked out some Rachmani- 
nof I thought that would impress him, 


188 


PLAYBOY 


because І knew he was into the classics. 
He made a funny face, said, “Let's play 
something else” and put on a Tim Buckley 
album. I suddenly realized how uncool I 
had been to put on classical music. I think 
at one point I said, “Hey, have you got 
any grass?” And he said, “Oh, do you 
want it?” I said, “Yeah, I was hoping we 
could get stoned or something.” So he 
went rummaging around in the back yard 
and found a little bottle that was his stash, 
put it into a little pipe and we all lit up. 
This was so quintessentially late Sixties. 
We also were drinking a lot of wine, and 
within about an hour and a half I was puk- 
ing in the back yard. I have very fond 
memories of that night. 

As time went on, I became more 
comfortable and less concerned with 
impressing him. During the first three to 
five years that we spent a lot of time 
together, David had an incredible influ- 
ence on the way I thought and the person- 
ality I was developing. 

It carried on that way for some time. 
Then the inevitable occurred, and it 


became time for the protégé to rebel 
against his mentor. There was a period 
when I decided that David was full of shit 
and didn't know anything. Anything he 
said, I would argue with. 

I still feel very close to David, and I love 
him so much. I wish we saw more of cach 
other. The best time we've all had was 
working together on The Long Riders, be- 
cause we could sce cach other every day. 

Bobby was always my kid brother, and 
there were times when I loved being the 
big brother. I would protect him from bul- 
lies, but then he would get into my stuff, 
and that would make me nuts. I remember 
once when I was about eight and he was 
about three, he helped give me my first les- 
son in karma. My friend had a barlow 
knife that I wanted desperately, so I 
shoplifted one from a hardware store. One 
day, it turned up missing. I browbeat 
Bobby until he admitted he had taken it 
and was scared that I would find out, so he 
hid it. I said, “Where did you hide it?” He 
said, “I put it in a gopher hole out there” 


“OT was the night before 
New Year's Eve.’ . . . Nah. “Т was the night 


before the Fourth of July. 


. . Nah. What I need 


is a holiday with two syllables.” 


and pointed to the pastures. We were liv- 
ing in Calabasas, and there were about 
five acres of pasture with probably a mil- 
lion gopher holes. He had no idea which 
one he had put it in. 

I remember when Bobby decided to be 
an actor, I was jealous that he was going to 
do the same thing that I was doing. 
Bobby’s range of talents is so great that 
there were a lot of other things he could 
do. When he started, I was worried that he 
was choosing it not because that was what 
he really wanted but because David and I 
were doing it and it was the family thing to 
do. But I'm so proud of him now. 

вовну, зі: As the youngest, I had 
nowhere to go but to get punished for shit 
they did. In our house, we had the ery test. 
If you were accused and didn’t cry, you 
were not guilty. But because I was always 
getting accused and was real sensitive, T 
would cry even if I weren't guilty. I was 
actually a pretty good boy. 

It’s not a disadvantage being younger, 
because you can watch your older brothers 
fuck up and avoid their fuck-ups. You get 
more ofa chance to get it right, more time 
to learn. But experience is the best 
teacher. 

My first memories of David are of his 
coming in and out of our house, but my 
first solid recollection was when I was 16. 
Thad seen him on the TV series Shane and 
was star struck. I was real impressed with 
David, and I still am 

Both David and Ke were all for my 
being an actor. Davi particular, had a 
lot to do with my decision. I was reluctant 
to be an actor, because 1 didn't think the 
profession could stomach another acting 
Carradine. People would figure, “They 
can't all Бс good. Опс of them has to have 
no talent.” I didn't want that pressure. 

Going to Hollywood High School and 
living with David were great times —if you 
can imagine David Carradine writing 
notes asking teachers to excuse my tardi- 
ness. He really would do all those things— 
except the notes would be written on the 
back ofa canceled check or something. But 
by the time I was 18, I was out on my own 
and writing my own notes. 

The woman David is with now 15 one I 
once dated. The first few wecks were 
tough. But, ultimately, the truth is, they 
get along great and I love them together. 

I really like being seen with David or 
Keith. When people recognize them and 
discover I'm there, too, I get to bathe in a 
little bit of their light. But any time any of 
us go out together, it's like, “We're the 
Carradine boys—you better lock up your 
daughters." That's the feeling, even 
though most of us are monogamous right 
now. It’s a feeling of swashbucklingness, 
and it feels really good. When I’m with my 
brother—any one of them—I feel twice as 
dangerous. And when there are three of us, 
we're three times as dangerous. I fucking 
love having all these brothers. 


Have a ball. 


KENTUCKY STRAIGHT BOURBON WHISKEY. 80 PROOF. DISTILLED AND BOTTLED BY JAMES В. BEAM DISTILLING СО, CLERNONE, BEAM, KY. 


PLAYBOY 


killer (continued from page 114) 


“There are some pegs, my man, that'll never fit a 


square hole. No matter how much force 15 used. 


skunks had left us piled nicely in the feed 
bucket. We stood in the henhousc door, 
watching an Oregon sun pulling hard for a 
Fourth-of-July noon, circa 1970. 


“Yeah.” He was looking away from me, 
across the chicken yard at his bus. The 
black door had cracked open and Percy 
was peeping out to sec if the coast was 
clear, “A sort of modern Underground 
Railroad.” 

“You mean leave the States?” 

“Heliotrope was very persu: 
answered. 

“You're way past getting drafted." 

“But I'm not past knowing bum shit 
when I see it border to border. Hang 
around shit long enough, you're gonna get 
some on you, I also know that.” 

“Listen. When I was on the run, I came 
across a lot of American expatriates. You 
know what I noticed about the whole lot of 
them, especially the men?” 
idn't answer. He picked an egg out 
t and rolled it around with his 
an's fingers. 

“I noticed that they were all very 
damned hangdog apologetic.” 

“About what?” 

“About running away from home with 
all this bum shit needing cleaning up is 
what! Besides, what about Percy? He isn't 
draft age.” 

“In a way, he is. His square daddy 
keeps trying to force him to shape up. His 
teachers are always on his ass—pledge 
allegiance, cut his hair, mind his tongue.” 

He paused and watched the little red- 
head sneak elaborately across our yard to 
the house. 

“There are some pegs, my man, that'll 
never fit a square hole. No matter how 
much force is used.” 

“We can change the hole,” I reminded 
him. 

“Can wc?” M'kchla carcfully put the 
egg back into the bucket and looked at me. 
“Can we really?” 
is time, I didn’t answer. The issue 
was too long between us for easy answer- 
ing. During the decade of our friendship, 
we had shared a vision, a cause. We were 
comrades in that somewhat nebulous cam- 
paign dedicated to the overthrow of centu- 
ries of thought control. We dreamed of 
actually changing the human mind to 
make way for a new consciousness. Only 
from this unclouded vantage, we main- 
tained, could humanity finally rise out of 
the repeating history of turds and turmoil 
and realize that mighty goal of One World. 
One World Well Fed, treated fair, at peace, 
turncd on and in tune with the universal 
harmony of the spheres and the eternal, 


ive,” he 


ووو 


ever-changing dharma of . . . оГ... 
anyway, one wonderful world. 

We never claimed to know precisely 
when the birth of this new consciousness 
would take place or what assortment of 
potions might be required to initiate 
contractions, but always we had taken it 
for granted that this shining nativity 
would happen here, out of an American 
labor. 

Europe was too stiff to bring it off, Africa 
too primitive; China too poor. And the 
Russians thought they had already accom- 
plished revolution. But Canada? Canada 
had never even been considered, except 
recently, by deserters of the dream. I 
didn't like seeing them leave, these dream- 
ers like brilliant and broken Heliotrope 
and old comrade M'kehla. 

These freckle-faced Huck Finns. 


. 

Alter his second helping of eggs, Percy 
began to yawn, and Betsy packed him 
away to share Quiston's bunk. M'kehla, 
though, looked wider-awake than ever. He 
announced he was ready for action. I 
explained the day's plan. We had a new 
string of calves that needed branding and 
an old string of friends coming out to help. 
We would brand and barbecue, swim and 
drink beer and end up at the fireworks dis- 
play in Eugene at dusk. 

“So we have to prepare for the day. We 
need to spread sawdust, buy beer, rcin- 
force the corral to be sure it'll keep the 
calves in: i 

“And the goat out," Betsy added. 

"Why, then," M'kehla said, already 
heading for the door, “let us so embark.” 

We got the tractor started and the auger 
hooked up and holes for new posts drilled. 
I set the posts while M'kehla tamped them 
fast with stones gathered from the ditches. 
We worked hard. I had to hustle to match 
M'kehla's pace. I was glad when the first 
visitor showed up to give me an excuse for 
a break. 

It was my cousin Davy, the ex-boxer. 
His eyes were red and his nose even red- 
der. I asked Davy what he was doing out 
this early. He said it was as a matter of fact 
this late, and he had come because in the 
course of a long night’s ramble, he had 
acquired an item that he thought might 
interest me. 

“For your Independence Day doodah, 
cousii 

He brought it from the back seat of his 
banged-up Falcon station wagon, a beauti- 
ful American flag, trimmed with gold 
braid. It was a good 20 feet long. Davy 
claimed to have won it in a contest during 
the night, He didn't remember what kind 
of contest, but he recalled that the victory 


had been decisive and glorious. I told him 
it was a great item; too bad I didn't have a 
pole. Davy turned slowly around until he 
spotted a small redwood that the frost had 
killed the winter after I planted it. 

“How about yon pole,” he drawled, 
then pointed at the last unposted hole 
where M'kehla and I were working, “in 
hither hole?” 

So the three of us felled the redwood 
and bucked the limbs off. Davy made a try 
at barking it with the drawknife but gave 
up after ten minutes. M'kehla and I deep- 
ened the augered hole by hand until it 
would support the height of our spar and 
dragged it over. We attached the hooks 
and pulleys and tilted the pole into the 
hole just as my best buddy, Fred Dobbs, 
and his crew were arriving in his cutaway 
bus. In our hurry to get the flag aloft for 
their arrival, we just tossed in dirt, promis- 
ing to tamp it later. Dobbs got out as I 
pulled the brilliant banner aloft, He and 
Davy snapped to a rigid salute. They 
launched into The Marine Corps Hymn 
with such verve that I came to attention 
and joined them. 

M'kehla had chosen not to honor the 
ceremonies. He had turned back to our 
fencing task, reaching around the flagpole 
and hammering in the last section of wire. 

This is when Killer made that pile- 
driving sneak attack that started this story 
about verve and nerve, and the loss of it, 
and old friends, and strange beasts. 

It took all three of us to separate the 
man and the goat, Dobbs and I holding 
the animal, Davy wrestling with M'kehla. 
This was a mistake. It very nearly got 
M'kehla and my cousin into it. Something 
was done or said and they sprang apart, 
glaring, and were into their karate and 
boxing stances before we could step 
between them. 

Dobbs mollified Davy with a cold Oly 
and | persuaded M'kehla to go down to 
the pond with me to cool down and scrub 
off. After his first dip, he was laughing 
about the flare-up, said it wouldn't hap- 
pen again . . . maybe, however, he should 
drive his bus down here, out of goat terri- 
tory. He could park it in the shade of the 
ash trees on the swamp side of the pond. 

I stood in the open stair well and 
directed him down. The sound of the 
engine brought Percy straight from his nap 
and running from the house. 

“Look at him hop,” M'kehla laughed 
“He thought 1 was leaving without him.” 

He parked where he could get some of 
the overhanging shade and still sce the 
water. He swiveled out of the driver's scat 
and strolled to the rear of his living room 
on wheels. 

“Come on back. Let’s get high and ana- 
lyze the world situation.” He sprawled 
across his zebraskin water bed like an 
Ethiopian nabob. 

The day mellowed. A soft breeze started 
strumming the bus roof with the hanging 
Spanish moss. My kids and Percy were 
splashing in the pond with their tubes; 


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PLAYBOY 


204 


ENGLISH — 
LEATHER” 
WALLETS 
AND 
GIFT SETS 
BY 
ARISTOCRAT. 
MORE 
REASONS 
TO WEAR 
ENGLISH 

| LEATHER 

OR 

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NOTHING 

ATALL. 


> 


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Sorry, no other foreign orders can 
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their shouts and laughter drifted to us 
through the swaying Queen Anne's lace. 
M'kchla and I sipped Dos Equis and 
argued. We had just started on the Third 
World and our fourth beer when someone 
came banging at the bus door. 

M'kehla opened it and my nine-year-old 
son, Quiston, leaned in, wet and wide- 
eyed. 

“Dad!” Quiston yelled up the stair wel 
“Percy's found a monster in the pond.” 

“What kind of monster, Quiz?” 

“A big one . . . crouched on the bottom 
by the pump house!” 

“Tell him ГЇ come out after a while and 
get it,” I told Quiston. 

“АЙ right,” he said and headed back 
toward the pond with the news, his white 
hair waving in the wecds. “Dad’s gonna 
get him, Percy! My dad’s gonna get him!” 

I watched him go, feeling very fatherly 
M’kchla came and stood beside me. 

“It doesn’t worry you, Dad? All this 
faith?” 

I told him nope, not me, and I meant it 
1 was feeling good. I could see my friends 
and my relatives arriving up by the barn. I 
could hear the squawk of the sound system 
as Dobbs got it wired up to announce the 
branding, rodeo style. I could sce the new 
honey-colored cedar posts in the corral 
and the pigeons strutting on the bright 
new wire. And Old Glory was fluttering 
over all. 

“I got faith in all this faith," 1 told 
him 

We drank beer and enjoyed our old 
arguments and watched the crowd gather. 
Rampage and his kids, Buddy and his. 
The Mikkelsens, the Butkovitches. The 
women carried dishes to the kitchen; the 
kids went for the pond; the men came to 
the bus. Bucko brought a case of Bohe- 
mian stubbies. After an hour of tepid beer 
and politics, Dobbs tossed his half-empty 
hottle cut the window. 

“АП right, e-nuff of this foam and foofa- 
raw,” he declared, right at M’kchla 
“Break out the heavy stuff!" 

Аз a man of the trade, M'kehla always 
had a formidable stash. He uncoiled from 
his zebra lounge and walked to the front of 
the bus. With a flourish, he produced a lit- 
tle metal box from somewhere behind the 
driver's seat. It was a fishing-tackle case 
with trays that accordioned out when he 
opened it, making an impressive display. 
The trays were divided into compartments 
and cach section was filled and labeled 
From a tiny stall labeled ROYAL COACHMAN, 
he picked up a gummy black lump the size 
of a golf ball. 

“Afghani,” he said, rolling it along his 
finger tips like the egg in the henhouse. 

He pinched off a generous chunk and 
heated it with a butane lighter. When it 
was properly softened, he crumbled it into 
the bowl of his stone-bowled Indian peace 
pipe and fired it up. At the first fragrant 
wisp of smoke, Percy came baying up the 
stair well like a hound. He had smelled it 
all the way to the pond 


“Hah!” he said, coming down the aisle, 
rubbing his hands. “In the nick of time.” 

He was wearing Quiston’s big cowboy 
hat to keep from further sunburning his 
nose and neck, and he had a bright-yellow 
bandanna secured around his throat with 
a longhorn tie slide. He looked like a 
munchkin cowpoke. 

He plumped down on the pillows and 
leaned back with his fingers laced behind 
his neck, just one of the fellas. When the 
peace pipe came back around to M'kehla, 
he passed it to Percy. The little boy puffed 
up a terrific cloud. 

Davy wouldn't join us, though. “Makes 
а man too peaceful,” he explained, ореп- 
ing another beer. “And these аге not 

eaceful times.” 

"That's why Perce and me are pulling 
up stakes and rollin’ on.” 

“Up to Canada, did I hear?" Dobbs 
asked. 

“Up it is,” M’kehla answered, reloading 
the pipe. “To start a sanctuary.” 

“A sanctuary for shirkers,” Davy mut- 
tered. 

“Well, Dave,” Dobbs said, lifting his 
shoulders in a diplomatic shrug, “patriots 
and zealots don’t generally need a sanc- 
tuary, you got to admit that.” 

Fred С. Dobbs had served іп the early 
days of our inglorious “police action” as a 
Marine pilot, flying the big Huey heli- 
copters in and out of the hornet’s nest of 
the Cong. After four years, he had been 
discharged with medals and citations and 
the rank of captain and а footlocker full of 
Burmese green. He was the only vet 
among us and was not the least upset by 
M'kehla's planned defection, especially 
under the pacifying spell of M'kehla's 
hash. On the other hand, Davy was grow- 
ing less and less happy with M’kehla and 
his plan. You could see it in the way 
he brooded over his beer. And when 
M'kehla's Indian pipe came around to 
him again, he slapped it away with the 
back of a balled fist. 

“Dll stick to good old firewater from the 
Great White Father," he grunted. “That 
flower-power stuff just makes a man 
sleepy." 

“Гуе been driving since noon yester- 
day," M'kchla said softly, retricving his 
pipe. “Ро I look sleepy?" 

“Probably popping pills or sniffing snow 
all the way,” Davy grumbled. “I seen the 
type on the gym circuit.” 

“Not a pill. Not a sniff. Well, maybe опе 
pull of some flower-power stuff. One little 
hit. But PH bet there isn't one of you big 
white fathers with the balls to try half 
what I do.” 

“Ме!” Percy chirped. 

“Leave that shit alone,” 
tilting the hat down over the boy’s cycs. 
“You half-baked buckaroo.” 

I stepped up to get between Davy and 
M'kehla. “I might try a taste. What is it, 
like smoking speed?” 

M'kehla turned without answering. He 
reached a clay samovar down from his sta- 


Davy ordered, 


ples cupboard and opened it. He pinched 
out a wad of dried green leaves. 

“Not much,” he answered, 
“Just a little ordinary mint tea 

He thumbed the wad down into the 
bowl of the pipe, then took a tiny bottle 
out of his tackle box from a compartment 
marked sNELLED HOOKS. Carefully, he un- 
screwed the lid: 

“And a little STP.” 

“Eek,” said Budd 

Dobbs agreed, “Eek, indeed.” 

None of us had tried the drug, but we all 
had heard of it—a designated bummer, 
developed by the military for the stated 
purpose of confusing and discouraging 
enemy troops. The experiment had report- 
edly been dropped after a few of the hap- 
less guinca pigs claimed that the chemical 
had prompted concentration instead of 
confusion. These lucky few said it seemed 
to not only sharpen their wits but double 
their energy and dissolve their illusions as 
well. 

Nothing the Army wanted to chance, 
even for our own soldiers. 

The sight of the little bottle had pro- 
duced a twisted silence on the bus. Every- 
body watched as M'kehla drew from his 
hair a long ivory knife with a very thin 
curved blade. He dipped the point into the 
bottle and puta tiny heap of white powder 
into the bowlful of green mint, three 
times. 


smiling. 


“Observe,” he said and raised the pipe 
to his lips. 
With the lighter boring a long blue 


flame into the stone bowl, M’kehla drew 
one deep breath and held it, eyes almost 
closed. Within seconds, we all saw his eyes 
snap wide, then narrow, glittering afresh 
with that dark, sharp humor. He breathed 
out an inviting sigh and lifted the pipe 
toward my cousin. Davy dropped his eyes 
and shook his head. 

“Not this father,” he muttered. 

“I guess I might try one blade tip," I 
ventured, feeling that somebody should 
defend the family honor. “For the sake of 
science.” 

We all watched as M'kehla repacked the 
pipe. He swayed as he worked, 
a sweet, incomprehensible whisper. His 
hands danced and mimed. When he 
picked up the vial, a dusty sunbeam 
streamed through the window and illumi- 
nated the green glass. The hair on my 
arms stood up. I cleared my throat and 
looked at my brother. 

“You want to join me, try some of this 
superstuff?" 

“I never even tried it in my car. Ull get 
the dry ice ready for the brand. Come on, 
Percy. Learn something. 

Buddy stood up and started for the 
door, pushing Percy ahcad of him. I 
looked at Dobbs. He stood up, too. 

“I guess I gots to finish the sound, 
boss.” 

Rampage was supposed to be picking 
up the Кер at Lucky’s, and Bucko had to 
take a leak. One by one, they ambled to 


U8, Postal Garvie азата of ownership, management and 
circulation. 1. Pile of publication: PLAYBOY. Publication по: 
221478. 2, Date of Aling: October 1, 1980. 3. Frequency of 
“asus: Monthly. A. No. of issues published annually: 12: Е. 
Annual subecription prios: 892. 4. Completo mailing sddroas 
бі known office of publication: 918 N. Michigan Ave. 
Chicago, Cook County, Ш. 00011. 8. Complete шашар 
address of the headquarters of general business offioss of the 
publister: 819 N. Michigan Ave.. Chicago, Cook County, DI. 
60611. 6. Names und completo addreanes of publiaher. editar. 
and managing editor: Publisher and Editor, Hugh M. Hefner, 
8560 Eunset Blvé.. Los Angeles, Calif 90069; Managing Edi- 
tor, Position open. 7. Owner: Playboy Enterprises, Ine., A18 
N. Michigan Ava., Chicago, Ш. 60811. Stockholders owning 
ог holding one percent or more of total umouat of stock: Hugh 
M. Befnar, 60 Bunset Bivd., Los Angeles, Calif. 80089; Cede 

Co. Box 228, Bowling Green Station, New York. N.Y. 
10004; Kray & Co.. 120 8, LaSalle St.. Chicago, Ш. 60603; 
FMR Corp. 82 Devonshire Bt., Boston, Mess, 02109: PEI- 
Ошо» of the Treasurer, 018 М. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ш. 
60611. В. Known bondheléers, mertgugeon, and other seou- 
‘ity holders owalng or holding ore percent or more of total 
amount of bonds, mortgages or other вост Шев: None 9. For 
‘complstion by nonprofit organizations authorized to mall at 
ispecla! ғана: Net applicable, 10. Extent and nature of sireula- 
Hon: Average во. copies sach isme during preceding 12 
‘months: A. Total no, coples printed, 8,061,146; B. Palê andor 
requested olroulation, (1) Sales through dears and carriers, 
street vendors and counter males, 1,890,803, (2) Mall sub- 
‘scriptions, 2,499,208: С. Total pasé andior requested circula- 
шоп, 4,188,700; D. Free distribution by mall, carrier er other 
means, samples, complimentary, and other free coples, 
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tributed, (1) Ошо» use, left over, unsocounied, spolled after 
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о. Total, 6.061.140. Actual no. coples of білгі Ismin pub- 
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the front and out the door, leaving only 
M'kehla and me. 

And the pipe. I finished my beer and set 
the bottle back under my stool. 

“Well, as you say . . . let us so 
embark." 

M’kehla hands me the pipe and fires it 
up with his little blue flame. Green smoke 
wriggles out of the stone hole. The mint 
mild іп my throat. Not like the hash . - . 
cool, mentholated, throat raw smoke Kool 
throat raw smoke Koo. 

Everything stops. The green wriggle, 
the dust motes in the sunbeam. Only 
M’kehla is moving. He glides into my vi- 
sion, his eyes merry. He asks how it goes. I 
tell him it goes. He tells me to ride loose 
sing with it never let it spook you. Riding 
loose here. Good, and don’t move until 
you feel compelled. Not moving, boss. 
Good, and what is the terrain this time? 
It looks, this time it looks, it looks to me 


like . . . youre right! It looks like the 
future! 

M'kehla smiled and nodded. I shot to 
my feet. 


“Let's go get them cows!” I yelled. 

“Ұйа-Йоо!” M'kehla yelled. 

We stepped out into the Fourth-of-July 
noon just as Dobbs cued up James Brown 
and the Famous Flames blaring Out of the 
Blue over the airwaves, and the breezes 
blew and the leaves danced and the white 
pigeons bloomed above us like electric lil- 
ies. 

I was a new man, for a new season. 

. 

In the pastures, we moved with the 
smooth certainty of a well-trained army— 
M'kehla commanding the right flank, me 
the left, Betsy at the rear calling out calm 
instructions and the fleet-footed kids fill- 
ing in the gaps. The herd would try to 
escape to the right and M'kehla's force 
would advance. They would try to plunge 
left and I would press my platoon forward. 
We corralled the е herd without one 
renegade’s breaking through our lines. 

"The branding was even more efficient. 
The kids would cut out a little maverick 
and haze him into a corner of the corral, 
and M’kehla and I would rush in and 
throw him on his side and hold him. While 
Buddy stirred the big metal brand in a tub 
of dry ice and methyl alcohol, Betsy would 
shave the animal's side with the sheep 
shears. Then everyone would hold every- 
thing while Buddy stuck the ісу iron 
against the shaved spot for the required 60 
seconds. If the spot was shaved close 
enough and the brand was cold enough 
and the animal held still long enough, the 
hair would grow back out in the shape of 
the brand—snow white. 

Nothing moved, yelled or bellowed dur- 
ing this holy minute. Just Buddy's count- 
ing and the calf’s heavy breathing. Then 
Buddy would say, "Sixty!" and we'd turn 
loose with a cheer. The branded dogie 
would scramble to his feet and scamper 
away through the escape chute, and the 
army would be advancing on the next wild 


recruit. 

If I had been impressed earlier by 
M'kehla's strength and agility, I was 
astounded at my own. We were catching 
and throwing animals with ease, some top- 
ping 200 pounds, one after the other. I had 
no doubt that we could keep it up with 
calves twice as big and a herd ten times as 
great. From just the tiniest pinch of pow- 
der! It dawned on me why it had been 
ii med after the superslick race-car 
үс; 1 was not only newly powered 
but freshly lubricated as well, functioning 
without friction, without deliberation. No 
debates over right or wrong, good or bad, 
to impede the flow and delay decisions. In 
fact, no decisions. It was like skiing too 
steep or surfing too far out on the curl ofa 
breaker too big: full go and far past time 
for decisions. 

And the women couldn’t even tell we 
were high 

Davy stood near the keg, sipping beer 
and watching from under a defeated scowl. 
He made no move to help, and the only 
time I saw him smile was when Percy 
drawled a suggestion of how we could 
avoid this unnecessary toil: 

“Say you know? What Ah say we ought 
to do is cross these calves with all 
these damn pigeons.” He hitched at his 
belt like a Hollywood cattle baron. “And 
get you a herd of homing cows.” 

Everybody laughed in spite of the count. 
Percy whooped and slapped his leg and 
elbowed Quiston. “What do you say to 
that, Quizzer? Homing cows . . . ?” 

“Good idea!” Quiston agreed. “Hom- 
ing cows!” Always an admirer of the old- 
er boy’s style, Quiston hitched at his 
hes, albeit unbelted, and drawled, 
iut what Ah say we ought to do .. . is we 
ought to go down to the pond and get that 
thing out, like Dad said he would.” 

“What thing?” 

“That monster thing." 

“Hey, damn straight, Quiz,” Percy re- 


membered. “Haul him out an’ brand 
him!” 

“At the pump house, you say? That's a 
deep dive—” 


“1 доу 

“Yeah, Dad. Percy dove it.” 

I stood up and looked around me, tall as 
a tower. Everything seemed under control. 
Pastoral. Bucolic. The fresh cedar shav- 
ings like soft golden coins under the sun. 
The calves all cowed and calm. The huge 
flag not so much waved by the breeze as 
waving it, like a great gaudy hand stirring 
the air to keep the flies away. 

Buddy plunged the frosted brand back 
into the fogging tub, watching me. 

“How many more?” I asked. 

“Just three,” he told me. “Those two 
easy little Angus and that omery spotted 
Mongol over there.” 

I took off one of my gloves and wiped 
my stinging face. I realized I was rushing 
like a sweaty river. Buddy was focusing 
hard on my face 

“We got more than enough to finish up 


here. Why don’t you go on down and cool 
off? Capture their dragon. Get them out 
from underfoot.” 

Everybody was watching. I took off my 
other glove and handed them to Buddy 
along with my la 

“АП right, I will. We'll geld this Gorgon 
ere he spawns.” 

“Yaahoo, Uncle Dev!” yelled Percy. 

And Quiston echoed, “Yaahoooo, 
Dad!” 

I followed the boys past the shade 
maple where Dobbs was fussing in his 
sound scene. He had a cold beer in one 
hand and a live microphone in the other, 
as happy as a duck in Disneyland. 

“How-dee!” he greeted us in booming 
stereo. “Here's some of our gladiators 
now, rodeo fans. Maybe we can get a 
word. How’s it going out there in the 
arena, podnah? From up here, it looks like 
you're drubbing those little dogies pretty 


y" Percy answered for 
me, pulling the microphone to his mouth. 
“We're letting the second string finish 'em 
off.” 

“Yeah, Dobbs,” Quiston added. “Now 
we're going after that thing at the bottom 
of the pond!” 

“Hear that, fans? Straight from the 
barnyard to the black lagoon without a 
break. Let's give these plucky wranglers a 
big hand.” 

The women making potato salad across 
the lawn managed a cheer. Dobbs settled 
the needle on a fresh record: 

“In their honor, friends and neighbors, 
here's Bob Nolan and the Sons of the Pio- 
neers doing their immortal Cool Water. 
Take it away, Bob!” 

He thumbed off the mike and leaned 
close. “You OK, old-timer?” 

I told him sure, better than OK. Super. 
Just going along with these, rinse the, get 
this grit off before dinner, it smells great. 1 
better catch those kids. 

The smell of the meat sizzling on the 
barbecue was, in fact, making my throat 
constrict. But I didn't feel like I needed 
sustenance. Every cell in my body seemed 
bursting with enough fuel to keep me cook- 
ing for a decade. 

The pond trembled in the sun. The boys 
were already shucking clothes into the dai- 
sies. From up the slope behind us, I heard 
a cheer rise as the wranglers caught the 
spotted Mongol, and Dobbs’s boozy voice 
joining the Sons of the Pioneers on the cho- 
rus, declaring: “He's a Devil, not a man/ 
And he spreads the burning sand/ With 
water 

“Cooool, cleecer wah-ter.” 

1 knew it would be cool, all right, but 
none too clear. Even when it wasn't glint- 
ing at you, spirogyra and pondweed made 
it difficult to see more than a few feet 
beneath the surface. 1 sat down and 
started unlacing my boots. 

“OK, lads, where is 
a-lurking?” 

“I can show you exactly,” Percy prom- 


this mooncalf 


this year... 


PLAYBOY 


ised and scooted up the ladder to the top of 
the pump house. “I'll dive down and 
locate it. Then ГЇЇ blow a bunch of bub- 
bles so you can bring it up.” 

“When you locate it, why don't you 
bring it up?” 

“Because it’s too big for a kid, Uncle 
Dev. It’s too big for anybody but a man.” 

He pulled his goggles over his eyes and 
grinned at me like some kind of mischie- 
vous kelpic. He sucked in a deep breath 
and jumped out into the air, hollering, 
“Yaahoo!” all the way to the water. His 
splash shattered the glint, and for a 
moment, we saw him frog-legging down. 
Then the surface closed over him. Quiston 
came and stood beside me. I finished pull- 
ing off my boots and Levi's and tossed 
them inside the pump house. I shaded my 
eyes against the bounce of the sun and 
stared hard at the water. There wasn’t so 
much as a freckled flicker. 

After nearly a minute, Percy came spew- 
ing up through the surface. He paddled to 
the shore where I could give him a hand 
out. 

“Didn't find him,” he panted, his hands 
on his knees, Finally, he looked up. “But I 
will!” 

He dambered back up the ladder and 
dived right back in. No yell. Again the 
water snatched him from our sight. Quis- 
ton reached up to slip his hand into mine. 

“Percy said it had teeth like a shark and 
a hide like a rhinoceros,” Quiston said. 
“But he's probably just fooling.” 

“Percy’s never had a reputation for reli- 
ability.” 

We squinted at the water for his signal. 
Nothing but the chromium undulation. 
Quiston squeezed my hand. At length, 
Percy spurted to the surface again. 

“It's a deep pond, Percy.” 

“I knew you were fooling,” Quiston 


claimed, relieved. 

Percy flushed red and thrust a fist under 
Quiston's nose: 

“Listen, you, you see this? Mess with the 
Perce, go home іп a hearse!” 

“Take it casy, kid. Forget it. Let's go 
down to the shallow end, hunt some tad- 

les.” 

“Yeah! That's it!” Quiston had never 
been greatly fond of this dark water by the 
pump house, anyway, even wii 
sters. “Tadpoles in the catt 

“Pm not after tadpoles.” Percy fumed 
back up the ladder. He snatched off his 
goggles and flung them away as though 
they had been the problem. He drew a 
deep breath and dived. 

The water pitched, oscillated, slowed 
and stilled. I began to worry. I climbed up 
the ladder, hoping to decrease the angle, 
as impervious as rolled steel. Quiston 
called up at me, “Dad ...?” I watched 
the water. Percy didn't come up. I was just 
about to dive in after him when I saw his 
face part the surface. 

He lay back, treading water for a long 
while before he paddled for shore. 

“Never mind, Percy,” Quiston called. 
“We believe you, don't we, Dad?” 

“Sure. It could have been anything—a 
sunken branch, that deck chair Caleb 
threw in last fall. . . .” 

Percy refused Quiston's offered hand 
and pulled himself up the muddy bank to 
the grass. “It wasn't any branch. Wasn't 
any chair. Maybe it wasn't any monster, 
but it wasn't any goddamn furniture, ei- 
ther, so fuck you! 

He wrapped his arms around his knees 
and shivered. Quiston looked up at me on 
the pump-housc roof. 

“OK, I'll take a look," I said. Both boys 
cheered. 

Tremoved my watch. I tossed it to Quis- 


“Гое had it with seasonal employment.” 


ton and stepped to the high edge of the 
pump-house roof. | hooked my toes over 
the tar-papered plywood and started 
breathing. I could feel my blood gorging 
with oxygen. Old skindiver trick the kid 
didn't know. Also, he'd been jumping too. 
far out, hitting too flat. I would go 
straighter down . , . breathe three more 
times, crouch low, spring as high as pos- 
sible and jackknife. 

In the middle of the leap, I changed my 
dive. 

Now, I’m no diver. My only period near 
a diving board was the year we spent in 
Boyes Hot Springs while my father was 
stationed at Mare Island. Buddy and I 
were about Quiston's and Percy's ages. A 
retired bosun friend of my dad's devoted 
many afterschool afternoons to teaching us 
to go off the high board. Buddy learned to 
do a respectable one and a half. The best I 
could accomplish was a backward cutaway 
swan, where you spring up, throw your 
feet forward and lie backward in the air, 
coming past the board close with your 
belly. It looks more dangerous than it is. 

All you have to do is get far out 
enough. 

And when I took off from the pump 
house, I knew I was getting plenty far out 
I was so pumped by the distance and 
height my wonder muscles had achieved 
that I couldn't help thinking, The future is 
now, and I went into my cutaway. 

For the first time in more than 20 years. 
Yet everything was happening with such 
controlled slowness that I had plenty of 
time to remember all the moves and get 
them correct. 1 lay back with a languid 
grace, arms spreading into the swan, chest 
and belly bowed to the astonished sky. It 
was wonderful. I could sec the pigeons сіг- 
cling above me, cooing their admiration. 1 
could hear the Sons of the Pioneers lope 
into their next ballad—“An old cowpoke 
went riding out... .” 

I could feel the breeze against my neck 
and armpits and the sun on my thighs, 
smell the sizzle of the barbecue—all with 
aleisurely indulgence. I could browse over 
these simple pleasures for ages if it suited 
me, just hanging there. Then, somewhere 
beneath all these earthly sensations, or 
beyond them, remote and at the same time 
disturbingly intimate, I heard the first of 
those other sounds that were to continue to 
increase all the rest of that awful afternoon 
and evening. It wasn't the familiar howl- 
ing of decapitated brujos that you hear on 
peyote comedowns, nor the choiring argu- 
ments of angels and Devils that LSD can 
provoke. Those noises are merely un- 
earthly. These sounds were unanything— 
the chilly hiss of decaying energy, the 
bleak creaking of one empty space scrap- 
ing against another, the way balloons 
creak, Don’t let it spook you, he said, ride 
loose and sing. 

‘And I came loose from the sky. 

1 tilted on backward and down, shoot- 
ing past the pump-house roof and through 
the seamless water. My body had become 


Hennessy 


the civilized way 
to a mans heart 


PW 
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445%” ї 
| 4 1 M ч 
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PLAYBOY 


210 


flawless, fictional in its perfection, like Tar- 
zan in the old Sunday funnies, with every 
muscle and sinew inked clean, or Doc Sav- 
age alter 40 years of ferocious physical 
training. The water sang past me, turning 
cold and dark. I was not alarmed. I wasn't 
surprised that I seemed not to have to per- 
petuate my deepening plunge—the dive 
had been that frictionless—and I wasn’t 
startled when my outstretched hands 
finally struck the jagged mystery at the 
pond bottom. It seemed perfectly natural 
that I had arrowed to the thing, like a 
compass needle to the pole. 

“Hello, Awfulness. Sorry I can't leave 
you lurking here in peace, but some lesser 
being could get bit" 

And I grasped it by its lower jaw and 
turned for the surface. 

I knew what it was. It was the 50-gallon. 
oil drum M'kehla and I had lost some 
half-dozen summers before. We had been 
using it to cook ammonium-nitrate ferti- 
lizer, piping the gas out the threaded bung 
through a hose down under the water so 
we could catch the bubbles in plastic bags, 
trying to manufacture nitrous oxide. It 
had been an enormous hassle but had 
worked well enough that the entire 
operation—me, M'kehla, hose, barrel and 
Coleman stove—had all tumbled into the 
water, flashing and splashing. 

We saved the stove, but the lid came off 


and the barrel went down before we could 
catch it, It must have landed at a slant, 
mouth down, because a pocket of air still 
remained in the corner, so that it rocked 
there on the blind bottom, supporting 
itself at an angle, as if on its haunches. 
What I had grabbed was the rusted-out 
rim below that corner vith the air pocket. 

I kicked hard, stroking one-handed 
toward the dim green far above. I felt the 
thing give up its hold in the mire as brute 
inertia was overcome by my powerful 
strokes. I felt its dumb outrage at being 
dragged from its lair, its monstering future 
thwarted by a stout "Tarzan heart and a 
savage right hand. I felt it tug suddenly 
heavier as it tilted and belched out its 
throatful of air in protest. A lot heavier. 
But my inspired muscles despaired not. 
Stroke after stroke, I pulled the accursed 
thing toward the light. Upward and 
upward. And upward. 

Until that stout heart was pounding the 
walls in panic and that savage right hand 
no longer held the thing; the thing held the 
hand. That discharge of its buoyant bub- 
ble had jerked the rusty teeth deep into my 
palm. To turn it loose without first setting 
it down would mean letting those tecth 
rake their way out. All I could do was 
stroke and kick and hold my own and lis- 
ten to that alarm pound louder and louder. 


Everything was suddenly on the edge of 
its seat. The ears could hear the panic 
thumping through the water. The eyes 
could see the blessed suríace only a few 
feet away—only a few more fect!—but the 
burning limbs consulted the heart, the 
heart checked with the head and the head 
computed the distance as already impos- 
sible and getting more impossible by the 
instant! 

When the lungs got all this news, the 
sirens really went off. The nerves passed 
the signal on to the glands. The glands 
wrung their reserves into the blood 
stream, rushing the last of the adrenaline 
to the rescue, giving the right hand the 
desperate courage it needed to uncurl and 
release its grip on the damned thing. I felt 
it rip all the way to the finger tips and 
away, swirling the cold water in derision as 
it escaped back into its lair. 

I squirted, gasping, into the air, pop- 
eyed and choking and smearing the silver 
surface with my lacerated palm. I splashed 
to the bank. Quiston looked as terrified as 
1 felt. He took my arm to help me out. 

“Oh, Dad! Percy ran to get help. I 
thought something got you. . . ." 

His face was as white as his hair and his 
eyes were wild, going from me to the pond 
and back to me. The tears didn't begin in 
earnest until he saw my hand. 

“Dad! You're hurt.” 

I watched him cry and he watched me 
bleed and we couldn't doa thing for cach 
other. The water shined, the Sons of the 
Pioneers chased ghost riders overhead 
and in the distance, beyond M'kchla and 
Dobbs and Buddy, sprinting toward us 
from the corral, I saw the flag, dipping 
foolishly lower and lower, though the noon 
sun had not budged an inch. 

. 

As Betsy cleaned and wrapped the 
wound, I forced myself back to a presenta- 
ble calm. 1 had my place and my plans to 
sce to, not to mention my reputation. I can 
put up a front as well as the next fool; 1 
just didn’t know how long I could keep it 
up. 

l tried to assuage Quiston's fears by 
reassuring him that it had been just a rusty 
old barrel, at the same time trying to 
amusc Buddy and Dobbs and the rest of 
the gang by adding, "and it's a good thing 
it wasn't a rusty young barrel." 

Quiston said he had known all along 
that it wasn't any rcal monster. Percy said 
so had he. The guys laughed at my joke. 
But there was no amusement in the loud 
laughter. They were humoring me, I dis- 
cerned; even my 

So I didn’t participate in the remaining 
events of that day. I put on my darkest 
shades and wired on a grin and stayed out 
of the way. I was stricken by a fear so deep 
and all-pervading that finally, 1 was not 
even afraid. 1 was resigned, and this resig- 
nation was, at last, the only solid thing left 
to hold on to. Harder than fear, than fai 
harder than God was this rock of resigna- 
tion. It gleamed before me like a great 


кет, and everything that happened the 
rest of that shattered holiday was lensed 
through its facets. Since it was our 
national birthday, this lens was focused 
chiefly on our nation, obliging me to view 
our decay and diseases like a pathologist 
bent to his microscope 

Flaws previously shrouded now lay 
naked. I saw the marks of weakness, marks 
of woc everywhere I turned, within and 
without. I saw it in the spoiled, macho 
grins of the men and in the calculating 
eyes of the women, I saw it in the half 
grown greed at the barbecue, with kids 
fighting for the choicest pieces only to 
leave them half-eaten in the sawdust. It 
was in the worn-out banter at the beer keg, 
in the insincere singing of old favorites 
around the guitar. 

I saw it in the irritable bumper-to- 
bumper push of traffic fighting its way to 
the fireworks display at the football 
stadium—each honk and lurch of modern 
machinery sounding as doomed as bar- 
baric Rome—but I saw it most luridly 
in an event that happened as we were dri 
ing back from the fireworks late that 
evening. . - 

The display was a drag for everyone. 
Too many people, not enough parking 
space, and the entrance to the stadium had 
been manned by a get-outof- Vietnam 
garrison, complete with pacifist posters 
and a belligerent bullhorn. A college foot- 
ball stadium on the Fourth of July in 1970 
is not the smartest place to carry anti- 
American signs and shout Maoist slogans, 
and this noisy group had naturally at- 
tracted an adversary force of right-wing 
counterparts. 

These hecklers were as rednecked and 
thickheaded as the protesters were long- 
haired and featherbrained. An argument 
over the bullhorn turned into a tussle, the 
tussle into a fight, and the cops swooped 
down. Our group from the farm turned in 
our tracks and headed back to Dobbs’s bus 
to watch from there. 

The women and kids sat out on the cut- 
open back porch of the bus so they could 
see the sky; the men stayed inside, sam- 
pling M'kehla's tackle box and continuing 
the day's discussion. M'kehla kept his eyes 
off me. All I could do was lie there on the 
zebraskin with my hand throbbing, my 
brain like a blown fuse. 

The cop cars kept coming and going 
during the show, stifling drunks and haul- 
ing off demonstrators. Davy said the whole 
business was a black eye for America. 
M'kehla maintained that this little fuss 
was the merest straw in the wind, a precur- 
sor of worse woes on the way for the US. 
of A. Dobbs disagreed with both of them, 
grandly claiming that this demonstration 
was a demonstration of just how free and 
open our society really was, that woven 
into the fabric of our collective conscious- 
ness was a corrective process pro 
that the American dream was 
ing. M’kehla laughed. Working? Working 
where? He demanded evidence of one area, 


PLAYBOY 


212 


Just one mother area, where this wonderful 
dream was working. 

“Why, right here before your very eyes, 
bro,” Dobbs answered amiably. “In the 
area of equality.” 

“Are you shitting me? M'kehla 
whooped. “Ee-quality?” 

“Just look.” Dobbs spread his long 
arms. "We're all in the front of the bus, 
aren't we?” 

Everybody laughed, even M’kehla. 
However pointless, it had scotched the dis- 
pute just in time. The band in the distance 
was finishing up Yankee-Doodle and the sky 
was surging and heaving with the fire- 
works finale. Pleased with his diplomacy 
and timing, Dobbs swung back around in 
his driver's seat and started the bus. He 
headed for thc exit to get a jump on the 
crowd. M'kehla leaned back in his seat, 
shaking his head, willing to shine it on for 
friendship's sake. 

But on the way out of the lot, as if. 
that dark diamond were set on having the 
last laugh, Dobbs sideswiped a guy's 
new white Malibu. Nothing bad. Dobbs 
stepped out to examine the car and apolo- 
gize to the driver, and we all followed. The 
damage was slight and the guy amiable, 
but his wife was somehow panicked by the 
sudden sight of all these strange men pil- 
ing out. She shrank from us, as though we 
were a pack of Hell's Angels. 

Dobbs wasn't carrying a license or any 
kind of liability, so M'kehla offered his, 
along with a $100 bill. The guy looked at 
the tiny nick in his fender's chrome strip, 
then at M'kehla's big shoulders and bare 
chest, and said, “Ah, forget it. No big deal. 
These things happen. Prudential will take 
care of it.” Even shook hands instead of 
taking the money. 

The last glorious volley of rockets spi- 
dered across the sky above; a multitu- 
dinous sigh lifted from the stadium. We 
were all bidding one another good night 
and heading back to our vehicles when the 
woman suddenly said, “Oh” and stiffened. 
Before anyone could reach her, she fell to 
the pavement, convulsing. 

“Dear God, no!” the husband cried, 
rushing to her. “She's having a seizure.” 

She was bowed backward almost double 
in the man’s arms, shuddering like a sap- 
ling bent bencath a gale. The man was 
shaking her hysterically. 

"She hasn't done it for years! It’s all 
these explosions and these damn police 
lights! Help! Help!” 

The wife had thrashed her way out of 
his arms and her head was sideways on the 
asphalt, growling and gnashing her teeth 
as if to bite the earth itself. M'kehla knelt 
to help 

“We got to stop her chewin’ her 
tongue,” he said. I recalled that Helio- 
trope was also an epileptic; he had tended 
to convulsions before. He scooped up the 
woman’s jerking head and forced the 
knuckle of his middle finger between her 
teeth. “Got to gag a little, then’ 

But he couldn't get in deep enough. She 


gnashed hard on the knuckle. M'kehla 
jerked it back with an involuntary hiss: 
“Bitch!” 

The guy immediately went nuts, worse 
than his wife. With a bellow, he shoved the 
woman from his lap and sprang instantly 
to his feet to confront M’kehla: 

“You watch your dirty mouth, nigger!” 

It rang across the parking lot, louder 
than any star shell or horn. Everybody 
around the bus was absolutely stunned. 
Hurrying strangers stopped and turned for 
50 yards in every direction, transfixed 
beneath the reverberation. The woman on 
the pavement ceased her convulsions and 
moaned with relief, as though she had 
passed some demon from her. 

The demon had lodged in her husband. 
He raged on, prodding M’kchla in the 
breastbone with a stiflened hand: 

“The fuckin’ hell is with you anyway, 
asshole? Huh? Huh? Sticking your fuckin’ 
finger in my wife's mouth! Who do you 
think you are?” 

M’kehla didn’t answer. He turned to the 
crowd of us with a “What else can I tell 
you?” shrug. His eyes hooked into mine. 1 
had to look away. I saw Quiston and Percy 
watching over the rear rail of the bus 
porch. Quiston was looking scared again, 
uncertain. 

Percy's eyes were shining like M'kehla's, 
with the same dark, igneous amusement. 

It was after midnight when we chugged 
up the farm driveway, The men were sul- 
len; the kids were crying; the women were 
disgusted with the whole silly affair. It was 
nearly one before all the guests had gath- 
егей up their scenes and headed home. 
Betsy and the kids went to bed. M'kehla 
and I sat in his bus and listened to his Bes- 
sic Smith tapes until almost dawn. Percy 
snored on the zebraskin. The crickets and 
the spheres creaked and hissed like dry 
bearings. 

When the first light began to sift 
through the ash leaves, M'kehla stood up 
and stretched. We hadn't talked for some 
time. There had been nothing to say. He 
turned off his amplifier and said he 
guessed it was once again time to embark 

I mentioned that he hadn't had a wink 
in 48 hours. Shouldn’t he sleep? I knew һе 
could not. I was wondering if either of us 
would ever again enjoy that blessing that 
knits up the raveled sleeve of care. 

*>Fraid not, Home. Me and Percy bet- 
ter get out before it closes up on us. Want 
to come?” 

I told him I wasn't ready to pull stakes 
quite yet, but keep in touch. I walked ир 
the slope and opened the gate for him, and 
he drove through. He got out and we 
embraced and he got back in. I stood in 
the road and watched his rig ease out our 
drive. Once, I thought I saw Percy's face 
appear in the rear window, and I waved. 

1 didn't see any waving back. 

The farm lay still in the aftermath, 
damp with dew. It looked debauched. 
Paper plates and cups were scattered 
everywhere. The barbecue pit had been 


tipped over and the charcoal had burned a 
big black spot on the lawn. Betsy’s pole 
beans were demolished; someone or some- 
thing had stampeded through the strings 
in the heat of the celebration. 

The sorriest sight was the flag. The pole 
had leaned lower and lower, until the gold 
braid of the hem was trailing in the wood 
chips and the manure. Walking to it, I 
noticed cousin Davy passed out in the 
back of his station wagon. I tried to rouse 
him to help me take it down and fold it 
away, but he only rooted deeper into his 
sleeping bag. I gave up and climbed over 
the fence and shuffled through the wood 
chips to do it myself, and this is the last 
scene in my story: 

I was оп my knees and my elbows at the 
base of the pole, cursing the knot at the 
bottom pulley—“God bless this god- 
damned knot!" —because my fingers were 
too thick to manage the thin cord, musing 
about M’kehla’s invitation, about Percy, 
when, all of a sudden, the sky about me 
erupted in a dazzling display of brand-new 
stars. 

That curse had been a prayer, I real- 
ized, and these stars heralded heaven's 
answer! The knot was blessed even as it 
was damned. Trumpets celebrated this 
celestial intervention—bells rang, harps 
twanged—and I sank to the sawdust cer- 
tain that my number up yonder had been 
called. 

In this attitude of obeisance, I felt the 
lightning of the Lord lash me again. Ow! I 
recanted my recanting. Crawl off to Can- 
ada? Never! Never never and service for- 
evermore to You and Your Great Land 
Lord only forgive me! 

I heard an answering roll of thunder 
and turned just in time to see Him launch 
His final chastising charge, His brow terri- 
ble, His famous beard flying like amber 
waves of grain, His eye blazing like cannon 
fire across the Potomac. 

Davy finally managed to drive Him from 
me with a broken bean stake. He took me 
under the arm and helped me over to 
the water trough. It was empty. We had 
forgotten to turn it back on. The cows were 
all gathered, thirsty. Davy found the valve 
and turned it on. I watched the crimson 
sparkle in the rush of water on the tub’s 
rusty bottom. 

The cows were edging near, impatient. 
Behind them were calves, cautious, each 
with one side freshly clipped. The pea- 
cocks hollered. The pigeons banked over 
in a curious flock and lighted in the chips. 

My cousin sat down on the battered 
brim of the trough. He handed me his wet 
handkerchief, and I held it to the oozing 
lump where I had been driven into the 
flagpole. Tears were beginning to run with 
the blood. Davy turned away and watched 
the milling array of beasts and birds. 

“Homing cows,” he reflected aloud. 
“Not a halfbad idea for a half-baked 
buckaroo.” 

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PLAYBOY 


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RAR 
(continued from page 128) 
most of her childhood in St. Charles, Mis- 
souri, where she and her closc-knit family 
(parents and brother) have lived for her 
whole life. Well, she doesn't actually live 
in St. Charles now—she has her own 
apartment in nearby St. Louis—but her 
parents’ home is still where the heart is. 

“I worry about my parents because they 
worry about me,” she says. “Both of them 
have worked hard for long hours all their 
lives for what they have, and they can't 
quite understand how I can be paid good 
money for what doesn't appear to be hard 
work. I don't know if my dad will ever get 
used to my being a model, but my mom's 
coming around. I think they'll both end up 
being very proud of me and my career.” 

Her parents, you see, wanted her to be a 
pharmacist. When we discovered her in 
our search for our second Girls of the Big 
Ten pictorial (pLaveoy, September 1984), 
she was plugging away at pharmacy, with 
a B average as a University of Iowa sopho- 
more. Since then, things have changed. 

“I wasn't really interested іп phar- 
macy,” she explains, “so at the end of my 
sophomore year, I went to St. Louis, 
walked into a modeling agency and asked 


if they could use me. They sent me out on 
a job that day, and Гус been working ever 
since.” In fact, in a short 18 months, 
Sherry has become one of the busiest mod- 
els in the Gateway city. You've seen her 
work; those are her baby blues pecking out 
from all that virginal white lace on our 
first perfect-bound issue. And now, even 
as she consumed her last potato chip, a 
boat-show visitor approached with an 
October riavsoy for her autograph. She 
finished her inscription just as Insani and 
Gardner stopped by our table to say it was 
time to get back to work pushing paint. 

When our lunch was over, she had to get 
back to work. “The other girls and I are 
signing 2000 posters in two days,” Sherry 
sighs, “and right after that, I’m flying to 
Los Angeles to shoot my video for The 
Playboy Channel [look for it in February], 
then back to St. Louis for another model- 
ing job.” 

Sherry says she wants to go back to 
school and change her major to design 
“after my life slows down a little”; but for 
now, she’s going to see how far she can go 
on the fast track. “My personal motto,” 
she says, “is that there's nothing a person 
can’t do if she wants it badly enough.” 
That, gentlemen, is the spirit of St. Louis. 


“What's more, it tubs magnificently.” 


REVIVAL OF RACISM 


(continued from page 108) 
“constructive engagement” with the 
organized racism of South Africa is, or 
was, cut from the same cloth. And here, 
too, there is a personal connection and a 
highly personal perspective. I have rela- 
tives in South Africa and a family heritage 
there. Bridges that connect South Africa to 
Zimbabwe are named after a great-uncle 
who was an associate of Cecil Rhodes’s. As 
one who has visited there often and calls a 
number of South Africans friends, and as a 
person who knows firsthand how difficult 
it is to change the patterns of centuries, I 
have deep sympathy for the difficulty of the 
task confronting that tortured nation. 

But as with the American South two 
decades ago, there is no mileage to be 
gained by pretending that the white gov- 
ernment in Pretoria is as interested in real 
change as the black majority it rules with 
an iron fist. And there is even less sense in 
Washington’s maintaining warm relations 
with South Africa in the name of encour- 
aging an end to apartheid. If that tack had 
been tried with George Wallace or Lester 
Maddox or Ross Barnett, to mention three 
of the South's most notorious segre- 
gationist governors of old, the white “way 
of life” would still be intact there today. 

On the other hand, the м South 
African's accusation of hypocrisy, like the 
white Southerner’s aimed at his Northern 
brethren in years gone by, has more than a 
grain of truth. It is far easier to tell others 
how to clean up their act than to deal with 
the moral squalor at home. Distancing 
ourselves from the defenders of apartheid 
is smart policy; engaging the enduring 
problems of race here at home is far more 
important. 


. 

But let's return to that 19-year-old Mis- 
sissippian at Princeton on that spring day 
in 1954. He lived in a nation that had co- 
existed quite readily with segregation in 
the South and clsewhere for a long time 
and with Jim Crow’s constitutional valida- 
tion since the Supreme Court's Plessy vs. 
Ferguson decision in 1896. Congress had 
not passed a meaningful civil rights meas- 
ure since the post-Civil War Reconstruc- 
tion period. Of all the Presidents since 
Grant, only Harry Truman had been will- 
ing to give more than lip service to the 
notion that black people should not per- 
manently remain second-class citizens. 
The incumbent President, Dwight Eisen- 
hower, found it impossible to give unquali- 
fied public praise to the Court's 
desegregation decision. 

In my section of the country, black 
Americans were considered less than 
human in the eyes of the law and in cus- 
tom. Blacks—Negroes, as was the 
respectable word; niggers, as was the near- 
universal white designation—were nonbe- 
ings in the most obvious sense. All but a 
handful were prevented from registering to 


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PLAYBOY 


216 


vote or actually voting, kept from that 
basic right of citizenship by an claborate 
network of restrictive laws and, all else 
failing, by the simple expedient of physical 
intimidation and murder. 

There were two sets of public schools: 
the merely inadequate, for white children, 
and the stunningly inferior, for black chil 
dren. When I was a high school student, 
the average educational level of black 
Mississippians was third grade. The func- 
tional equivalent was probably closer to 
first grade, thanks to the shoddy facilities 
and inadequate textbooks provided for 
those separate-but-equal schools. No 
black—child or adult—went to school 
with a white within the state. That was not 
surprising, since no black could drink from 
a water fou n reserved for whites, usc a 
toilet designated as white-only, eat at a 
table or counter in a restaurant frequented 
by whites or even look boldly into the cyes 
of a white man or (God forbid) a white 
woman. To attempt to shake hands with a 
white man was to court assault; to be 
thought of as “uppity” was dangerous for 
a black man's health; to seem to pose any 
kind of sexual thrcat to a white woman 
was fatal. What was true for Mississippi 
was true throughout the South 

As for the chance to live up to his eco- 
nomic potential even within the confines of 
segregation, it was a given that no black 
would or should be allowed to supervise 
the work of a white. It was also a given 
that all but the most menial jobs in fac- 
tory, business and government were rc- 
served for whites. Threc dollars a day was 
considered high pay for a maid. Five dol- 
lars a day for farm labor was considered 
агу, and virtually all farm and 
domestic day labor in much of the South 
was done by blacks. 

But enough of the black Southerner. 
who, ill housed, ill clothed and ill fed, was 
essentially invisible to the bulk of the 
white majority. We whites were all but 
monolithic in our public adherence to seg- 
regation. White supremacy was no casual 
tenet. It was not a thread woven into a 
larger fabric. It was the warp and woof of 
the region, its culture, its polities, its reli- 
gion, its history and its mythology. There 
were a few moderates, people like my 
newspaperman father, who argued with 
great bravery for gradual accommodation 
to racial change and racial justice. For 
their careful balancing of the demands of 
religion and democracy against the 
region’s insistence on white conformit 
they were tarred as Communists, scal; 
wags and, worst of all, integrationists. As 
for the handful of white liberals, the true 
integrationists, they were isolated remind- 
ers that even the most closed of societies 
cannot totally silence dissent. They were 
our Sakharovs, our Solzhenitsyns—and 
they had about as much effect on our 
region as Russian dissenters have on the 
Soviet Union. 

Such were the South and the nation in 
1954, when Chief Justice Earl Warren 


delivered the Supreme Court's unanimous 
opinion in Brown vs. Board of Education. It 
was a finding that expressed the nation’s 
new consensus that state-supported rac- 
ism was unconscionable. But despite that 
consensus, political timidity in high 
placcs— plus zealous political resistance in 
the South—postponed any real change 
until the Sixties. The Court's 1955 formu- 
lation was for implementation “with all 
deliberate speed." The rate of change over 
the next five years would have required a 
century for completion. 

"That might have been fast enough for 
some Americans and far too fast for fire- 
brand segs, but it was far too slow for 
blacks. Starüng with such famous 
instances as the Montgomery, Alabama, 
bus boycott (which catapulted the young 
minister Martin Luther King, Jr., to 
national prominence), blacks increasingly 
took matters into their own hands. By 
doing so, they set in train a process that 
was to create a familiar pattern in the Si 
ties: black activism, white reaction (usu- 
ally violent) and Federal response. Sit-ins 
were followed by freedom rides and the 
March on Washington. Voter registration 
and freedom schools preceded and fol- 
lowed successful school-desegregation law- 
suits. And always there was the raw 
hatred, the naked bigotry, the bloodshed: 

* In 1962, two dead as Federal troops 
were called in to ensure the enrollment 
and safety of a single black man at the 
University of Mississippi. 

“Іп 1963, the assassination of black 
leader Medgar Evers in Jackson, 
Mississippi, and George Wallace's stand 
in the schoolhouse door in Alabama. 

* In 1964, the brutally casual slaughter 
of three young civil rights workers in Phil- 
adelphia, Mississippi, during the long hot 
summer—diflerent only in degree from the 
other murders, burnings and beatings that 
marked that period. 

«In 1965, whites and blacks alike 
gunned down for civil rights activism in 
Alabama as Selma became first a symbol 
of uncompromising repression, then a 
starting point for a long civil rights march 
to the state capitol in Montgomery. 

And the walls came tumbling down. 
Where there had been less than a trickle of. 
civil rights legislation in the late s 
and carly Sixties, there was now a flood: 
the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which broke 
the back of segregation in public places 
and laid the groundwork for equal oppor- 
tunity in the workplace; the Voting Rights 
Act of 1965, the single most important 
piece of civil rights legislation in this cen- 
tu guarantecing thc ballot—and with 
that guarantee, political power—to blacks 
and other minorities long denied it; the 
Public Accommodations Act of 1968, 
which took a medium-length step toward 
opening housing to all people without 
regard to race, creed or color. What had 
been a lonely, frightening and piecemeal 
effort to punch through the walls of segre- 


gation became a national crusade. The 
Southern citadel had crumbled. 
. 

Whites had been imprisoned behind 
those walls along with blacks. For me as 
for so many others, it was suddenly a time 
of liberation. No more fear of violent reac- 
tion to simple decency and civility. No 
more careful circumlocution in the name 
of effectiveness and being practical. For so 
long, the first priority for the white mod- 
erate had been to be able to echo the old 
war veteran who, when asked what he did 
in the late conflict, replied, “I survived.” 
Now we could live, as well. 

ГИ always remember my father com- 
plaining, half in jest and half in bemused 
wonder, “They wanted to kill me, and 
all I ever wrote was that qualified Negroes 
ought to be allowed to vote and hold a 
decent job. Here you are, running all over 
the state doing politics with black ciyil 
rights leaders, and no one says a thing!” 

But having effectively hauled the South 
up to its racial plateau, the rest of white 
America seemed surprised that black 
Americans did not believe that they had 
reached the mountaintop. What had been 
enshrined by law in the South was con- 
trived by custom, residential living pat- 
terns and back-room and board-room 
evasions in the North. When civil rights 
groups began to target the segregation 
caused by such devices and to protest con- 
tinued economic deprivation, they began 
to lose allies. Northern white impatience 
with continued civil rights “agitation” 
began to surface just as Southern resist- 
ance became more sophisticated, less bla- 
tant. And as the couris and Federal 
agencies reached out with new and politi 
cally untested remedies, such as busing 
and affirmative action, to overcome the 
effects of deep-seated discrimination in 
education and jobs, the reaction grew 
more pronounced. 

“Reverse discrimination" became a new 
and powerful slogan. “We've gone far 
enough” became a popular expression 
“What do those blacks want now?” was 
asked ever more insistently. And for those 
whites seeking a convenient symbol of all 
that they disliked and feared, there was 
that minority of the black minority willing 
to give them a convenient bogeyman— 
that pathetic reflection of actual impo- 
tence, “black power” and black 
separatism. 

Richard Nixon, ever alert to whifls 
below ground, caught the spirit of the 
emerging times and fashioned a “Southern 
strategy” aimed at bringing disaffected 
Southern whites into the Republican 


Party. As columnists Rowland Evans and 
Robert Novak wrote at the time, “The 
symbolism was unmistakable. . . . He was 
on the side of the South, the white majority 


and the status quo.” But despite the public 
rhetoric and private assurances, the Nixon 
(and then Ford) era did not produce either 
reversal of direction or political realign- 
ment, Court-ordered busing reached its 


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PLAYBOY 


218 


highest point during the 1969-1976 pe- 
riod. Social-welfare programs that propor- 
tionately benefited minority Americans 
the most expanded markedly during the 
same period. 

And then came Jimmy Carter, white, 
Southern, speaking in an accent that could 
easily be mocked—and speaking elo- 
quently in favor of full equality for all 
Americans. He spoke from a South that 
had undergone dramatic transformation lo 
a nation that still had a long way to go to 
provide for all citizens the equality of 
opportunity routinely expected by and 
routinely offered to most of its white citi- 
zens. Nor was it just talk. By appointment, 
legislative initiative and Executive writ, he 
pushed for change. 

‘And I knew whence he came, too, and 
at what cost. Being a white Southerner 
meant, for most of my life, having the 
smug certitude of liberal critics to the 
North visited upon us with the regularity 
of the tides and seasons. It meant hearing 
well-meaning prescriptions for racial uto- 
pia offered by those who were apparently 
blind to the rotten existence of minorities 
in their own back yards. It meant, finally 
and most depressingly, having to admit 
that, at root, they had been right and we 
wrong about the need for Federal interven- 
tion and rapid transformation. 

But it also meant that a lesson so costly 
was not one to be abandoned in the face of 
shifting sentiments in the erstwhile centers 
of racial and moral righteousness. So 
Jimmy Carter, President, persevered on 
the course that Jimmy Carter, Georgian, 
had come to accept only after considerable 
intellectual and emotional turmoil. As it 
turned ош, it was not necessarily a course, 
or a cost, that a majority of his country- 
men was willing to embrace. 

Or so Ronald Reagan, the perennial 
Presidential candidate, decided. It was not 
a tough decision. As my editor friend ob- 
served in his memo, the Reagan record on 
civil rights had been lousy. There was not 
a single Federal civil rights initiative of any 
sort, from judicial to Presidential to legis- 
lative, that won his backing. And, as сар- 
tured in excruciating detail by Texas 
newsman and author Ronnie Dugger, 
there were those oft-repeated words of 
coded, and not so coded, assurance to 
those who longed for a return to the good 
old days: 

* "I would have voted against the Civil 
Rights Act of 1964—a bad piece of legisla- 
tion.” 

“Оп the Voting Rights Act of 
1965—“The Constitution very specifically 
relegates control of voter registration to 
local government.” And, he carefully 
added, the act was “humiliating to the 
South.” 

“Оп the 1968 Housing Act—"1 am 
opposed to telling people what they can or 
can’t do with their property. This has 
nothing to do with discrimination. It has 
to do with freedom.” 

One of the prevailing bits of convention- 
al wisdom in Washington is that the Presi- 


dency has a mysteriously redemptive effect 
on those who achieve it: Small men grow; 
provincial men expand their horizons. 
Those who were weaned on racism sup on 
the Constitution and, like Lyndon John- 
son, proclaim that “we shall overcome," 
blacks and whites together. It is nice to 
hold out that prospect. It is, however, as 
often as not a myth. 

In any case, there was no such Damas- 
cus-road conversion for Ronald Reagan on 
the way to, or in, the Presidency. Person- 
ally tolerant though he may be, he has 
satisfied conservative idealogs and unre- 
constructed haters alike, Whenever a 
choice had to be made, he made the wrong 
one. Dugger put it best when, concluding a 
chapter in his fine book, On Reagan, the 
Man and His Presidency, he wrote: 

“Let us concede that President Reagan 
describes himself as he sees himself when 
he says, ‘I am opposed with every fiber of 
my being to discrimination.’ But what he 
does with every fiber of his public power is 
to strengthen it.” 

. 

For a brief moment in the Presidential 
campaign of 1980, as the old campaigner 
sought out the fabled middle ground of 
America's national politics, he seemed to 
be reversing his field. Putting the past be- 
hind him, he said he now accepted the 
1964 act because it “is institutionalized 
and it has, let's say, hastened the solution 
to a lot of problems.” He also said, “The 
Federal Government's responsibility is to 
protect the constitutional rights of every 
individual, at the point of a bayonet ifnec- 
essary,” and noted that a Republican 
President, Dwight Eisenhower, had been 
“the first man to resort to those bayonets,” 
at Little Rock, in 1957. 

Despite these remarks, usually made 
once and then shelved, the new President 
made crystal-clear in his first Inaugural 
Address how he actually stood: 

“It is no coincidence that our present 
troubles parallel and are proportionate to 
the intervention and intrusion in our lives 
that result from unnecessary and excessive 
growth of Government.” 

Intervention and intrusion. Jim East- 
land, the longtime segregationist Senator 
from Mississippi, never said it better. Nor, 
though he was speaking in a different con- 
text, could a better answer have come from 
the black community than this remark by 
Vernon Jordan, the former head of the 
Urban League: 

“Black people don’t need to be told 
Government is on our backs, because we 
know that it has been by our side, helping 
eradicate the vicious racism that deprived 
us of our lives, our liberty and our 
rights.” 

Tt was help that the new President and 
his dedicated lieutenants were determined 
to eradicate. Part of their attack on “іп- 
tervention and intrusion” was outlined 
four years later in an Urban Institute 
report: 

“While the 


members оГ Reagan 


Administration bridle at the suggestion 
that they are ‘soft’ on civil rights, it cannot 
be denied that they have moved boldly 
and consciously to limit the scope of the 
law in enforcing equal opportunity. And 
while previous Republican Administra- 
tions have shown some resistance to the 
use of these laws in the past, this 
Administration—more than any other— 
has attempted to impede any further wid- 
ening of their interpretation.” 

As the Reagan team sees it, Government 
could and might be vigorous in pursuit of 
remedies and recompense for individuals 
proved to have suffered from discrimina- 
tion, but it should not undertake actions 
that benefit classes of victims or provide 
systemic relief, In mid-1985, the Presi- 
dent's former Si г General, Rex Lee, 
provided a capsule interpretation: 

“The basic notion of group-based 
distinctions runs counter to the theme of 
the struggle for equal opportunity. The 
effort to eliminate racial, sexual, religious 
ог other discrimination is an effort to break 
away from group stereotypes or assump- 
tions and concentrate on the individual.” 

What that meant in practice was that 
while the number of individual actions 
brought by the Justice Department, the 
Equal Employment Opportunity Com- 
mission and other Federal agencies 
charged with civil rights enforcement went 
up or did not appreciably decline during 
the first five Reagan years, the number of 
actions that would affect large numbers оГ 
people or establish precedents for more 
generalized relief went down drastically or 
fell off the enforcement table entirely. 

Affirmative action, for instance, became 
and remains anathema to the Reagan 
Administration. From day one, it fought 
any suggestion that it should apply the 
principle, which holds that nitions 
and employers should be required to take 
affirmative steps to overcome the effects of 
past discrimination, up to and including 
preferential hiring, until certain racial or 
other imbalances are corrected. The 
Administration's interpretation of a 1984 
Supreme Court ruling involving the con- 
flict of seniority rights and affirmative 
action in the layoffs of some Memphis fire- 
men became a club. It was wielded in 1985 
over 51 local and state governments in an 
effort to roll back their affirmative-action 
programs. It was an interpretation hotly 
disputed by civil rights spokesmen, of 
course, but also by a number of lower 
courts, which rejected it summarily. 

In South Africa, the white regime often 
uses black policemen to deal with black 
unrest and to patrol black areas. The Pres- 
ident uses his few visible black officials in 
much the same way, sending them out to 
man the barricades against black com- 
plaints and demands. 

No one is a more energetic spear carrier 
for the Administration than Clarence Pen- 
dleton, head of the U.S. Civil Rights 
Commission and vigorous opponent of 
affirmative action and quotas. He was not 


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PLAYBOY 


the President's first choice for the post, but 
his appointment in itself would be a strik- 
ing argument against affirmative action, 
since it is hard to believe that he was ap- 
pointed on the basis of anything except his 
race. As he sees it, or at least as he plays it, 
his job is to oppose new (and many old) 
civil ri initiatives rather than to act as 
a goad to the Administration's conscience. 
While he is remarkably mute when it 
comes to detailing examples of continued 
white racism, he is not reluctant to label 
leaders of the civil rights community rac- 
ists. For the first time in its history, the 
commission he heads is at war with its nat- 
ural allies and brings solace to its natural 
enemies. 

But Pendleton is only a minor example 
of an Administration-wide pattern. As 
New York Times columnist Anthony Lewis 
wrote, “The United States Government 
has essentially changed sides. . . . Instead 
of fighting for blacks and women, who 
have been the historic victims of discrimi- 
nation, the Ju: Department is now 
‘emphasizing the rights of white males.” 

And, added Edwin Dorn of the Joint 
Center for Political Studies, “When we say 


that women and blacks have been discrim- 
inated against, we are saying in the same 
breath that other people have been dis- 
criminated for. Viewed from this perspec- 
tive, some of the complaints about 
preferences and quotas are really shrieks 
of alarm that the wrong people might ben- 
efit from them. . . . Those who wax elo- 
quent about the idea of color-blindness 
should be obliged to tell us how to achieve 
that ideal in a society where color contin- 
ues to have tangible consequences.” 

Busing was reserved for a special place 
in President Reagan's hell. The Admin- 
istration supported antibusing legisla- 
tion, sought reversal of court-approved 
busing plans and entered as a friend of the. 
court in opposition to busing sought by 
civil rights plaintiffs. Even in Charlotte, 
North Carolina, where busing was a long- 
setled and successful matter, the Presi- 
dent underscored his position by speaking 
of the failed "social experiment nobody 
wants." (The Charlotte Observer answered 
editorially, “You Were Wrong, Mr. Presi- 
dent.”) 

But affirmative action and busing, 
argued, are unsettled issues in America. 


“Then I said to myself, ‘What do I have in the North 
Pole that couldn't wait another week?’” 


Busing, in particular, does not have major- 
ity support in either the black or the white 
community, though it has absolute va- 
lidity as a legal solution for persistent 
de facto as well as de jure school segrega- 
tion. And affirmative action's more ardent 
proponents have managed to blur the 
distinction between guidelines and man- 
datory quotas, an approach that bounces 
against the bonc-deep conviction of many 
white Americans that those not responsi- 
ble for past discriminations should not be 
penalized in the present. 

(A reply to that conviction came from 
an interesting source in June 1985. Secre- 
tary of Labor William Brock told the 
national convention of the NAACP: 

“We as a country have lived for 200 
years with a major part of our population 
in remarkable disadvantage. And it takes 
some time to recover from that. Perhaps 
we [present-day] whites were not here 
then. But that does not change the obliga- 
tion we have as citizens to respond to that 
situation.”) 

But the Administration's attack on Fed- 
eral “intervention and intrusion” goes far 
beyond busing and affirmative action. 
What was at first treated as a possible 
aberration rapidly became the most worri- 
some aspect of the President's civil rights 
tactics. It is not just that the President is. 
opposed to expanding the frontier of the 
permissible in Government action. What 
is stupefying, when it is not frightening, 
is Washington's systematic campaign to 
undo many of the widely accepted civil 
rights advances of the past 25 years while 
simultaneously pursuing other domes! 


policies that economically beggar those it 
is politically attacking. 
The following scen: 


Klux Klan wish I 


o reads like a Ku 


ration from Jan- 
ration has: 

* First kept silent, then dragged its feet, 
then sought the least expansive exten: 
possible as the Voting Rights Act came up 
for renewal in 1982. Its approach was to 
quibble over long-settled details. The 
President let it be known that he was wor- 
ried about “those provisions which impose 
burdens unequally upon different parts of 
the nation.” Behind that shield, Senator 
Jesse Helms and company vigorously 
sought to kill the act forever. They failed, 
and a tough measure was passed, thereby 
guarantecing to Southern blacks, in partic- 
ular, that their hard-won right to vote 
would not be sold out in 1982 as cynically 
as it had been sold out in 1876. 

+ Actively sought to reverse the 11-уеаг- 
old ban on tax exemptions for segregated 
private schools, religious or not. The Pres- 
ident, as he later admitted, was personally 
involved in the effort, along with William 
Bradford Reynolds, his designated 
man in the Justice Department's civil 
rights division. Reagan acted in response 
to a plea from House Minority Whip Trent 
Lott, a Mississippian whose acceptance of 


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PLAYBOY 


the new racial order of things is often ques- 
tioned. The Administration's position was 
rejected by Congress and then, in what 
should have been a humiliating coup de 
gráce, by a decisive 8-1 Supreme Court 
majority in 1983. The President allowed as 
how he had been misunderstood all along 
and was simply trying to prevent “govern- 
ment by edict.” 

* Welcomed a Supreme Court decision 
that, in its broadest application, would 
allow local schools and other institutions 
to get Federal funds without having to 
comply with antidiscrimination guide- 
lines, The ruling, called Grove City, 
became the focus of the most important 
civil rights measure before Congress. 
Called the Civil Rights Restoration Act, it 
would affirm Congress’ intent that any 
institution that receives Federal money in 
any way must comply with all ai 
discrimination strictures, whether racial, 
ious, sexual or physical. The Adminis- 
tration, openly and privately, helped block 
Congressional passage in 1984, despite 
overwhelming majorities in both houses 
for the bill. 

* Packed the U.S. Civil Rights Commis- 
sion, previously noted for its independent 
pursuit of full equality for all, with mem- 
bers who slavishly follow the Reagan 
Administration line, word for word. 

In the face of that record, the counter- 
attack at first seemed almost mild. Julius 
Chambers, director-counsel of the NAACP. 
Legal Defense and Education Fund, said 
the Justice Department’s opposition to 
affirmative-action and school-desegre- 
gation plans had the effect of “encouraging 
overt racism.” Benjamin L. Hooks, execu- 
tive director of the NAACP, spoke of the 
Administration's “blatant hostility toward 
civil rights.” And, referring to Reynolds, 
whose noi for the number-three 
job at Justice was tobe rejected by the Sen- 
ate Judiciary Committee, five House mem- 
bers wrote, “Тһе head of the civil rights 
division of the Justice Department . . . is 
supposed to wield the sword of the law 
to defend minority civil rights. The fact is 
that Mr. Reynolds has used that sword оГ 
the law to hack away at the victim—to 
subvert minority civil rights.” 

After Reynolds was defeated, Reagan 
said, “Let me emphasize that Mr. Reyn- 
olds? rights views reflect my own. 
The policies he pursued are the policies of 
this Administration and they remain our 
policies as long as Lam President.” 

. 

And that is what began to seriously dis- 
turb many Republicans in 1985. Having 
remained almost mute for more than four 
years of steady Administration backtrack- 
ing from previous bipartisan civil rights 
positions, they decided it was bad politics 
for them and bad policy for the country. 
In an extraordinary departure from the 
past, Republicans from right to center 
deserted the President’s South 
policy, with some of the most vocal criti- 


African 


cism coming from a young group of New 
Right Congressmen that issued its own 
anti-apartheid manifesto. 

But if that was extraordinary, the deci- 
sion in late August by Senate Majority 
Leader Robert Dole and the Republican 
National Committee to enter briefs oppos- 
ing the Government's restrictive position 
on the Voting Rights Act of 1982 was 
earth-shattering. As Senator Dole and 
nine other members of Congress told the 
Supreme Court, the Reagan Justice 
Department's position blatantly misrepre- 
sented the purpose of the voting-rights 
measure and advanced a theory 
“expressly rejected by Congress.” 

Almost simultaneously, however, it was 
revealed that the White House was study- 
ing plans to relax requirements for affirm- 
ative action by Federal contractors. The 
Justice Department also drafted new rules 
that would make voting-rights challenges 
harder to initiate than many Congressmen 
had intended. “Unconscionable” and 
“extremist” were two of the milder words 
used by civil rights proponents to describe 
both steps. 

Such are the policies of one Ronald Rea- 
. That is the Reagan of inflexible oppo- 
ion to Government remedies for old 
wrongs, the Ronald Reagan whose eco- 
nomic policies cut most cruelly in 1981 
into programs of special benefit to minor- 
ity Americans and whose proposed 1986 
fiscal-year budget would have cut them 
even deeper. But there is also the Ronald 
Reagan who said in his second Inaugural 
Address: 


We will not rest until every Ameri- 
can enjoys the fullness of freedom, 
dignity and opportunity as our 
birthright. . . . Now there is another 
area where the Federal Government 
can play a part. As an older Ameri- 
can, I can remember a time when 
people of different race, creed or eth- 
nic origin in our land found hatred 
and prejudice installed in social cus- 
tom and, yes, in law. 

There is no story more heartening 
in our history than the progress we've 
made toward the “brotherhood of 
man” that God intended for us. Let 
us resolve there will be no tuming 
back or hesitation on the road to an 
America rich in dignity and abundant 
with opportunity for all our citizens. 


Glowing words, good words, American 
words. But when it comes time for civil 
rights deeds, Reagan’s is an Administra- 
tion that cares more for the wounded 
sensibilities of the haves than for the needs 
of the have-nots, political or economic. 

That is the only possible way to under- 
stand the way he and his Government ap- 
proach the clamor for justice abroad as 
well as at home. Be sensitive to the sensi- 
bilities of the oppressor, comfort the com- 
fortable and raise negativism to a fine art 
when explaining why affirmative action in 


the cause of human rights is a nonstarter. 
It failed miserably in South Africa, as it 
was bound to do, because it rested on a 
faulty premise: that those who oppress 
their fellow humans by habit and heritage 
can be changed through friendly persua- 
sion. It is a premise the President and his 
men bring to bear within the nation’s bor- 
ders as well, and its central fallacy threat- 
ens to reverse a half century of racial 
progress here at home. 

Near the turn of this century, W.E.B. 
DuBois, the eloquent black activist, la- 
mented that “the freedman has not yet 
found in his freedom the Promised Land.” 
Just 17 years ago, the Kerner Commission 
spoke of a nation “moving toward two 
societies, one black, one white—separate 
and unequal.” And that same усаг, 
another President, in another Inaugural 
Address, spoke even more fervently: 

“No man can be fully free while his 
neighbor is not. To go forward at all is to 
go forward together. . . . This means black 
and white together, as one nation, not two. 
The laws have caught up with our con- 
science. What remains is to give life to 
what is in the law.” 

That was Richard on in 1969. Now, 
as I write, it is the fall of 1985, and both 
conscience and laws seem to be fading into 
lifelessness. There are disturbing straws in 
the wind, and it is a strong wind, blowing 
backward. For instance, the July 16, 1985, 
Southern Political Report, a studiously care- 
ful roundup of political activity the 
South, reported from South Carolina: 

“When the sun goes over the yardarm, 
white conversation over drinks can reflect 
a hostility to blacks reminiscent of the seg- 
regationist sentiment of the Fifties and 
Sixties, with negative comments about the 
presence of blacks in public schools and 
universities.” 

A news item in The Washington Post 
begins: 

BALTIMORE, July 18—Racial discrim- 
ination and polarization persist at the 
polls in many of Maryland’s southern and 
Eastern Shore counties, according to a 
state elections audit released today.” 

And, finally, there are my occasional 
visits home, where old friends speak de- 
spairingly of renewed race hatred on both 
sides, of polarization and separation to a 
degree unknown for 20 years. I think back 
on the long, agonizing and temporarily tri- 
umphant record of racial challenge and 
change in our land since that May day at 
Princeton in 1954, then try to think ahead 
30 years. Willa President have to say then, 
as John Kennedy said in 1963, that black 
Americans “are not yet freed from the 
bonds of injustice; they are not yet freed 
from social and economic oppression”? 

Тһе nation betrayed them once before, 
betraying also its political heritage and its 
moral principles. Today, as surely as the 
sun rises in the morning, it is repeating 
that shameful history. Cry, the beloved 


country. 


J Y LENO (continued from page 159) 


“Comics tend to get the damaged girls—the ones with 
some open wounds that aren't necessarily visible." 


if you ask me. Take any guy from MIT 
with a doctorate in astrophysics, put him 
in front of a TV set. When Moe hits Larry 
in the face with a shovel, the guy will crack 
up. If you ever turn the Stooges on with a 
group of women in the room, they get hos- 
tile and say, “Turn those asses off!” Have 
you ever seen that list in The People's Alma- 
mac of the ten men most admired by men? 
There's Abraham Lincoln, Albert Ein- 
stein, Moe. Women tend to bc a little bit 
more cerebral in their humor. Á guy get 
ting hit in the face with a pipe isn't funny 
to them— I don’t know why. 


7 


PLAYBOY: Why don't class clowns ever get 
the girl? 

LENO: Comics tend to get the slightly dam- 
aged girls—the ones with some emotional 
problems, fatherless childhoods, perhaps 
some open wounds somewhere that aren't 
necessarily visible. But that comes later. 
In school, you're just lookin’ for attention. 
I was a class clown, but I never thought of 
becoming a comedian when I was flushing 
tennis balls down the toilet and locking 


dogs in lockers. These weren't career 
moves. Teachers don't say, "When you hit 
me with that wad of paper, I knew you 
should be in show business!” The same 
goes for girls. They appreciate a more 
sophisticated sense of humor, which I just 
didn't have in junior high school. I was the 
kid who would sneak into the girls’ bath- 
room and pour water through the Kotex 
dispenser. 1 liked watching that metal 
machine expand and tear apart from the 
napkins’ absorbing the water. It was very 
funny. It would be a good ad for Kotex 


8. 


тлүвоү: How come women stand-ups 
don't get more respect? 

Lexo: Women stand-ups have suffered from 
the same thing women anchor persons 
have: They have no real predecessors, so 
people assume they have no right to try 
Comediennes like Elayne Boosler and 
Carol Leifer do material with a feminine 
point of view; but il, say, Elayne told me 
she was leaving the business tomorrow and 
gave me her act, I could do 90 percent оГ 
it. It’s not all bras and tampons. You 


know, it takes five to seven years to 
become a good performer. So there’s a 
whole crop of female stand-ups who 
started seven or eight years ago who are 
suddenly coming to the forefront. They're 
all very good and they're all making it on 
their own. The stereotypes are dropping 
real fast, if they're not gone already. 


9. 


PLAYBOY: What's the most fun you can have 
in a Holiday Inn? 

Leno: See, Pm not а hang-from-the- 
chandelier, naked-women-runnin'-around 
kind of guy. I mean, I used to have ап 
engine that I would take apart and put 
back together in hotel rooms on the road 
The maid would come іп, and there Га be 
with a crankshaft in my hand and stuff all 
over the place. Very embarrassing. But it is 
strange living in hotels: the tiny soap, the 
tiny towels, waking up and never knowing 
where you are. There's an occasional trac- 
tor parked outside your window that needs 
a jump start at six in the morning —while 
you're sleeping. 

1 used to stay in the sleaziest, most ter- 
rible places. I remember this old, old men's 
hotel in Cincinnati—three dollars a 
night—where I stayed that had a toilet in 
the middle of the room. One night, I was 
in bed and I saw water coming in under 
the door. So 1 opened it and there was an 
old guy, urinating. I said, "What are you 
Әсіп?” He said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I always 


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PLAYROY 


urinate on this door.” I looked at the door 
and saw it's all rotten in the lower corner. 
Н was his door, all right. An awful hotel. 


10. 


PLAYBOY: How do you know when to trust a 
restaurant on the road? 

LENO: Ifit doesn’t come in waxed paper, I 
usually don’t cat it. I'm not a big restau- 
rant cater. Somebody took me to one of 
those Japanese steakhouses—you know, 
where they feed you like a dog. They cut 
up the meat and fling it at you. The master 
chef came out and bounced it off two 
conditioner units. You want to cut his 
heart out and put his head on that grill. 
Just gimme my steak, you son of a bitch. 


11. 


PLAYBOY: How did a well-mannered Bosto- 
nian like yourself become a West Coast 
motorcycle zealot? 

Leno: Well, the people I ride with are not 
stereotypical bikers. I mean, we don't go 
downtown and beat up homos. I was a 
Rolls-Royce/Mercedes-Benz mechanic in 
college, but you can't do anything with 
cars anymore. You open the hood and it’s 
all computers. Motorcycles, on the other 
hand, are like watches. Every part is there 
for you to see. It’s fun being able to take 
something apart, put it back together and 
make it work. Гуе got ten or 12 bikes, 
mostly Harleys and English antiques. 
What I would really like to be—but never 
will—is а good machinist. I like to work 
with my hands better than anything, 


12. 


PLAYBOY: Wouldn't you really rather have a 
Buick? 

LENO: I have one of those, too. А "53 Buick 
Roadmaster. When I first came to Califor- 
nia, I used to sleep on the stairs behind 
The Comedy Store. Eventually, I saved 
$300 and had to decide if 1 should get an 
apartment. I bought the Buick instead and 
slept there for a while. I still have it. It's a 
big car. It seats seven—for dinner. It 
doesn’t have a radio; I bring in live acts. In 
fact, Гуе got Woody Herman coming 
through in about two weeks. It should be 
pretty good. 


13. 


pLavnow: How funny is having money? 

Lexo: Hmmm. That reminds me of one of 
my favorite TV commercials in which an 
English guy says, “Here's а priceless intro- 
duction to the classics that will enrich 
every home.” The camera pulls back and 
you see his apartment: There's a grand 
piano, a candelabrum, a bust of Beetho- 
ven, a harp, a painting of a fruit bowl in 
one of those garish frames, red drapes and 
Victorian sconces on the wall. And all of 
this is crammed into a tiny square space. 
It occurred to me that thi like a bum's 
idea of how rich people live. They can't 
conceive of having a lot of space, so they 
just figure the other half lives in the same 
little rooms they do, with all of this rich 


shit stuffed inside. To me, it's the funniest 
commercial on TV. 

The way TV treats money is so funny. I 
saw this stupid Fantasy Island where a guy 
happily married, fantasizes about being a 
millionaire. So he gets his million and in- 
stanily turns into Joe Prickhead. He leaves 
his wife, starts running with bimbos and is 
about to get his divorce. Then Ricardo 
Montalban shows up and says, “Do you 
know that money is not often the key to 
happiness?” He takes the moncy, throws it 
into the river and, as soon asit hits the wa- 
ter, the guy and his wife are happy again 
It’s so simplistically stupid. 

These things аге disguised to keep poor 
people from really seeing how much fun 
rich people have. I mean, I’ve been broke 
and Гус had money, and it's a lot of fun 
having money. Your basic nature doesn’t 
change. Гус been married for five years. 
Why should I be a prick now that 1 have a 
few bucks put away? 


14. 


PLAYBOY: For whom are you most fre- 
quently mistaken? 

LENO: Believe it or not, Fred Travalena, the 
host of Anything for Money. This is the 
game show where they try to find people 
with severe economic problems and see if 
they can tell the difference between human 
dignity and small financial gain. It’s the 
kind of thing the Communists like to show 
Russian people as an example of what life 
in America must be like. 

You know who else I've been mistaken 
for? A limo driver who once picked me up 
at the Atlantic City airport told me that 
my picture was on a billboard in town. 
This kind of surprised me, but he said he'd 
show me. So we were driving along and I 
saw this billboard with Anthony 
on it. He said, “There it is, sir." I said, 
"Im not Anthony Мешеу; he's, like, 20 
years older than I am! Give me a break!” 
Have you ever heard Newley's song about 
comedians, The Man Who Makes You 
Laugh? 105 horrible. [Sings] “Look at mc, 
I'm the fun-nee man,” . . . you know, cry- 
ing on the inside, laughing on the outside. 
Shut up, you jerk! Here's a fuckin’ Mag- 
num through the head. Let's see how 
funny you are now! 


15. 


PLAYBOY: Answer the eternal question: Does 
Elvis live? 

LENO: Гус always been an Elvis fan. Гус 
gone to Graceland. Since I'm from New 
England, there's nothing 1 enjoy more 
than seeing a Chippendale dresser that's 
been painted purple and orange. Do you 
mean, “Is he really still alive?” I've met 
some people who think he pumps gas 
somewhere in Idaho. You can't blame 
them, though. I saw a magazine not long 
ago that said “ELVIS AT FIFTY," with a big 
picture of him on the cover. People were 
picking up the magazine, saying, “Jeez, he 
looks great for 50!” 105 crazy. Elvis 


doesn't look great! He's dead! He's been 
dead for eight years! 


16. 


тілуноу: Define hackneyed. 

LENO: This will piss off comics. I once tried 
to do a study and compiled The Little Big 
Book of Overdone, Hackneyed Comedy 
Premises. 1 took it onto the Letterman 
show and got an enormous number of 
angry calls. Basically, these were the most 
abused comedy gags. Things like, “Can 
you imagine if E.T. landed in my neigh- 
borhood? Boy, we'd kick the shit ош оГ 
him!” Or McNuggets, as in “Where are 
the McNuggets on а chicken?”; “ГИ grab 
you by the McNuggets”; “Don't touch my 
McNuggets.” 

Then, among the most-hackneyed type 
of performers, there's the wacky duo, 
which is very popular now. These are gen- 
crally two white guys: One is serious; the 
other keeps interrupting with annoying 
sound effects. Then there’s my favorite, the 
impressionist who announces he's about to 
become a crustacean or somethin i 
“ТОП go something like this. . 
turn around for a second, then come back, 
and hell look exactly the same. That's 
amazing to me. ГЇЇ go out on a limb, 
though, and predict that when we remem- 
ber 1985's most hackneyed premise, it'll 
be the talking-car bit, inspired by those 
electronic-warning-voice systems: "You 
know, cars talk now, ladies and gentlemen. 
Can you imagine the Jewish car? ‘Vat аге 
you, too good to wear a scat belt, 
schmuck?” 


17. 


PLAYBOY: How misunderstood was Andy 
Kaufman? 

LENO: Andy was like theater of the absurd. 
He wasn't really a stand-up comedian. His 
thing was to get a reaction, and it almost 
didn't matter what the reaction was. 1 saw 
him at The Improv once, reading The 
Great Gatsby out loud for an hour and a 
half. People got up and lefi, then came 
back two minutes later to see if Andy had 
put the book down because they'd left, But 
he'd keep reading. 

People would get mad that they weren't. 
let in on the joke. At the end of his shows, 
they wanted Andy to do a Don Rickles 
thing—you know, “I’m not really like 
this—I'm a normal guy But he 
wouldn't. He kept it up his whole life. He 
never dropped it. And that used to drive 
people in Hollywood nuts, people who 
wanted despcrately to be able to say, “I 
know the other side of Andy!" But they 
never got to. Andy and I were friends, but 
he was exactly what you saw. You had to 
take him at face value. Everything he did 
on stage—that was his real life, 


18. 


тлувоу: Do you feel that comedy albums 
are huriling toward extinction? 

Lexo: I hope they are. I'll never do one. 
Comedy albums are great if you're getting 


“I think we have a beautiful relationship—damaged, but beautiful.” 


225 


PLAYBOY 


28 


out of the business and you just want to 
have a big garage sale of all your material. 
You do the album, people buy it and 
you're never heard from again. I would 
hate to buy an album, listen to it. go see 
the guy perform and hear the album allover 
again on stage. It’s not like hit music. 

1 mean, your average comedy-album 
buyer is that kind of nerdy, overweight kid 
with Coke-bottle glasses. Hell get up at a 
party, tell everybody to be quiet, and he'll 
put on the record. Then, somehow, vicari- 
ously or through osmosis, he takes credit 
for the material, you know, as if he's the 
comedian. It's like one of those ads on TV 
where people are sitting around with noth- 
ing to do. Then one guy learns to play the 
organ and, suddenly, everyone gathers 
around him and he becomes a star, just by 
playing this stupid, annoying instrument. 
FII tell you this: If I were at a party where 
someone started to play an instrument, Га 
be out of there. Especially one that’s color- 
keyed. 


19. 


praveov: What's better, sex or laughter? 
Leno: Well, sex is better. Unfortunately, 


laughs last longer. If sex could last as long 
as the laughs, you know, you could get up 
there and do two-and-a-half-hour sets with 
each one being a killer. That would be 
good. Sex is like having two or three really 
good jokes. Then you're out of material, 
and it's like, “Thank you! Good night! 
You've been great! Thank you very much!” 


20. 


pravsoy: What's your position on edible 
underwear? 

LENO: The sad thing is that after a couple 
years of marriage, a lot of guys are just not 
as romantic as they could be. So the 
women go out and buy this stuff, like edi- 
ble underwear, which they take home and 
put on to make themselves look very 
attractive. They get into bed. The guy cats 
the underwear, burps and says, “Thanks 
honey, that was great! Whatre we havi 
tomorrow night?” Now, of course, they 
have edible underwear for men, which is 
interesting. In fact, right now, I’m wearing 
the Big Man Boxer Shorts Dinner. Can 
you see that extra helping of potatoes in 
there? 


аі 


2 


mu 


"Im afraid the new awareness of child abuse is going 
to play hob with our traditional Christmas." 


WHILE LENIN SLEPT 


(continued from page 104) 
Most Human of Humans. 

A small crowd has gathered to watch as 
a procession of World War Two veterans 
files up to pay respects. Uniformed guards 
part and let them lay their flowers. They 
beam proudly and someone snaps a pic- 
ture. As they troop off around the back of 
the mausoleum to inspect the graves of 
lesser luminaries entombed in the Krem- 
lin's red-brick walls, an old man ap- 
proaches and tries to join their ranks. A 
young officer brings him up short. 

“You can’t go in.” 

The old man seems perplexed and tries 
once more to pass. 

“You can't go in," the guard repeats, 
taking the fellow by the arm. 

"And why not?" the little man asks 
lamely. “I've been a good Communist for 
over 30 years!” 

"Тһе guard laughs and turns away. 

After perusing the lunch fare at a couple 
of native eateries, we decide to pass on the 
watery gruel and lymph-node sausage and 
head for the Intourist Hotel. 

You do not just waltz into the Intourist 
as you would, say, a Holiday Inn. First, 
you must prove your out-of-towner status. 
Like all establishments catering to for- 
eigners, the Intourist enforces a strict pol- 
icy of “No Russians allowed.” God forbid 
some Muscovite should strike up a 
conversation with a visiting Parisian. He 
might be infected with a sudden bourgeois 
longing to French-kiss an escargot A 
doorman is on duty to prevent just such a 
catastrophe. 

“Say, whaddaya think of the Mets’ new 
right-hander?” 1 drawl, sidling up to said 
doorman. With a sneering glance at my 
sneakers, he motions us in. 

Upstairs, at the “smorgasbord,” we 
find . . . the same insipid borscht and rub- 
bery wieners. It looks like used food. 

After lunch, Misha and I cross the street 
to a couple of phone booths. Because the 
phones at Spaso House are tapped, Misha 
has waited till now to contact a friend from 
his last trip, Lev, living in the city. 

As Misha makes his call, 1 watch pedes- 
trian traffic. Maybe it's the weather, but 
there's a striking lack of joie de vivre. Grav- 
itv tugs hard at the corners of eyes and 
mouths. People walking in pairs or groups 
rarely talk. There is no laughter, only the 
sound of heavy shoes clomping on con- 
crete. 

So far, I haven’t been able to spot our 
K.G.B. tails. 1 know they're around, but 
I'm not sure what to look for. Are their 
guys the fashion plates that our Secret 
Service guys are? Does a Soviet tail also 
wear mirrored sunglasses and three-piece 
suits? Or white socks and black cop 
shoes? 

A young man in a navy-blue trench coat 
passes by, then returns and falls into line 
for the phones. Misha is taking his swect 
time with the call, so the other booth gets 


most of the business. Before long, Mr. 
Trench Coat is at the front of the line. But 
when the adjacent booth is again vacated, 
he signals for the woman behind him to go 
ahead. Finally, Misha hangs up. Lev will 
have us to dinner tomorrow. As we wander 
off to find our companions, I notice The 
Trench Coat standing off to the side, 
watching us. When we're about half a 
block away, he abruptly turns and heads 
off in the opposite direction. 


PRINCES AND PRINCESSES 


Clemente Pandin, an Italian who heads 
the staff at Spaso House, is the man to 
know in Moscow. Whether it’s caviar, con- 
cert tickets or just a decent meal you're 
after, look up Clemente. Tonight, he has 
invited us to a restaurant on the outskirts 
of the city. It is not a place most locals fre- 
quent, he tells us as we bump along past a 
cluster of wooden farmhouses tucked away 
in a stand of white birch. To begin with, 
the trains and buses don’t go this far. You 
have to drive, and not that many people 
own cars. Then there's the clientele— 
mostly Party types. Get out of line here, 
drink a little too much, puke on some- 
body's shoes and you're likely to wind up 
with your tonsils wired to a portable gen- 
erator. 

From the outside, the place looks like a 
woodsy hunting lodge. Inside, a rock band 
drives away at everything from Stevie 
Wonder to Eurythmics—current stuff, not 
more than а year or three old. 

The food is great—sweet butter and cav- 
lar on coarse dark bread, fresh cucum- 
bers and pickled garlic, filleted sturgcon, 
tart cranberries, red Georgian cabbage, a 
whole roast piglet no one can bear to look 
in the eye and, of course, vodka, plenty оГ 
vodka. 

Halfway through our meal, three big 
guys in somber suits stride in and take a 
table next to ours. They're the kind of lugs 
who crush walnuts on their foreheads 
because it feels good. Clemente gives me a 
wink. K.G.B. It's as if someone had 
thrown a mako shark into a tank full of 
tuna. Everybody's trying to act cool, but 
frightened fisheyes are rolling around in 
their sockets, straining to keep the Black 
Suits in view . . . just in case. 

After numerous vodka toasts, I’m feel- 
ing pretty expansive. 

“Why don’t we send them a bottle of 
wine?” I suggest loudly. 

Clemente blanches. “No, no!” he says, 
shaking his head. “They аге not here offi- 
cially. They would take it as an insult." 

And somebody would have to die for it, 
1 suppose. To hell with them. 

The owner, a jovial, bearded fellow 
named Vadim, invites us to his private 
bar, a small A-frame separate from the 
main restaurant. We knock on a sturdy 
door; a pecphole opens and words are 
exchanged; we are allowed entry. I feel 
like а bootlegger during Prohibition 
Above the bar, on a large TV screen, 
Prince is crotch-thrusting his way through 


1999. What Im sceing, obviously, аге 
smuggled video cassettes. The crowd is 
mostly young, mostly chic in Italian 
designer clothes, mostly Kremlin kids. 
This video club, from which Vadim reaps 
a healthy profit, is technically outside the 
law. But the authorities wink at it, as they 
do at a few other such enterprises, and 
their children come to drink and have their 
Socialist values corrupted by rock ^п? roll. 

Champagne and chocolates are brought 
to the table, The video clicks off and 
another tape is inserted. It looks oddly 
familiar, an awful lot like a German talk 
show I once appeared on . . . yep, there I 
am. Julian Lennon and I are struggling 
with earphones while our effusive host 
prattles on about “life with a famous 
father." Vadim and Clemente—God 
knows where they got this tape—are 
beaming, waiting for a nod of admiration 
from me for their resourcefulness. 

“You sons of guns. . . .” I try to pretend 
that this is the kind of thing that really 
makes my night 

The young couple behind us, a Val- 
entino-clad blonde and her date, look 
confused and begin hollering for “Mi- 
chael! Michael!” 

Too much champagne. Too much video. 
1 have to pee. Returning from the sole 
men’s room back in the main restaurant, I 
hear a strange thumping coming from 
behind the peepholed door. Taking hold of 
the handle, I cautiously give it a pull. Out 
lurches the blonde, obviously tanked. She 
grabs at my neck and, for a moment, we're 
engaged in an ungainly pas de deux. 
Through fits of laughter, she whispers 
something Russian in my ear. Then, stum- 
bling, giggling, this golden flower of Soviet 
youth careens off into the darkness, look- 
ing for a safe place to toss her blinis. 


WHERE THE WALLS BLEED 


Although hammered by 11 hours’ jet 
lag, we reluctantly avail ourselves of an 
embassy car the next day. Word has it that 
all embassy drivers are supplied by 
K.G.B. and that the cars are fitted with 
homing devices. 

Our driver, Anatoly, in brown-polyester 
trench coat and porkpie hat, is straight out 
of central casting. Spook city. Within min- 
utes, he’s referring to Misha as Mishinka, 
a diminutive so extreme, so cloying, so 
insulting as to mean “My little Twinkie 
lips.” 

“I think he's sweet on you,” I whisper 
over the headrest to Misha 

“Got any spare neutron bombs?” he 
snarls. 

First stop, the Tunisian ambassador's 
residence. Dr. Sally is paying а courtesy 
call on the ambassador's wife, Fazia. 

We are ushered into a living room hung 
with modern Tunisian art. Malpropor- 
tioned sheiks race across a vividly tinted 
desert aboard three-legged steeds. Fazia 
sweeps in, wearing a billowy cafian. 
Baklava and sweet, minty Tunisian tea 


are offered. Everything is “charming,” 
“delightful.” 

As we prepare to leave, Fazia asks gen- 
teelly, “Do you know whose house this 
was?” 

We don't. 

“It belonged to Beria. You know, Sta- 
lin's chief of secret police." With a con- 
spiratorial gleam, she inquires, “Would 
you like to see his torture chamber?" 

In the rear of the house, beneath a stair 
well, is a low, heavy iron door. It opens 
onto a short, steep flight of steps, then 
another low doorway. Crouching down 
through theopening, we find ourselves in a 
small room with wooden floor boards, a 
single bulb the only source of illumination. 
For an untold number of people, this was 
the terrible end of the line. 

“Pve done nothing to change the 
room,” says Fazia, flicking on the light. 

There is an audible intake of breath 
The dingy white walls are splattered with 
blood-colored droplets. Moisture, I tell 
myself, might have drawn the oil from the 
chipped paint. I don’t know. On one wall, 
brow level, a smoke stain curlicues toward 
the ceiling. Beria, 1 remember reading, 
enjoyed using fire on his victims to extract 
confessions from them. 

Fazia points out a secret passageway, 
long since scaled by the Soviets. Supposed- 
ly, this tunnel led to the Kremlin, the river 
or both. We stand for a moment, not 
knowing quite what to do. At last, over- 
come by the grisliness, we make our 
escape. 

Back at Red Square, Anatoly hops out 
of the car to confer with a militiaman 
about the reopening of Lenin’s tomb for 
tourists. He returns, a gold tooth gleaming 
from an apologetic smile. Mr. Lenin is still 
not receiving callers. 

Anatoly’s beginning to piss us off with 
his canned platitudes—"It's better to 
laugh than to shoot." Now he's feeling 
smug. Pointing to one of the myriad 
Ladas—basically, 19-year-old Fiats in 
Russian drag—he boasts, “Our factories 
produce 22 of those cars every minute." 

“Really?” 1 say, and Misha translates, 
even though we know damn well he under- 
stands every word we say. “And how 
much do they cost?” 

“Only 3000 rubles,” he says, grinning. 
“Eight thousand for the more expensive 
models.” 

“Uh-huh. And how much does the aver- 
age Soviet worker take home in a year?” 1 
ask, knowing the answer is “About 2500 
rubles.” Misha suppresses а smirk and 
doesn’t bother to translate. Anatoly gri- 
maces. He says nothing for the rest of the 
drive. 

. 

“Born down in a dead man’s 
town...” Evening. Clemente at the 
wheel, Springsteen blaring from the stereo, 
we roar down a light-streaked Kutuzovsky 
Prospect. Having picked up Lev at a metro 
station, we're heading back to his apart- 
ment for dinner. “You spend half your life 


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just covering up. . . .” Clemente jerks the 
wheel and we bend into a high-speed, tire- 
screeching U-turn designed to throw off 
any K.G.B. tails, at least for the moment. 
“Born in the U.S.A. ...” 

Lev's wife, Zoya, her mother, Irina, and 
children, Boris and Natalya, greet us at 
the door. For a family of professionals, 
upper middle class by Soviet standards, 
their apartment is, by American stand- 
ards, Spartan. At least they don’t share 
bathroom and kitchen facilities with 
another family. Their hospitality is abun- 
dant, all out of proportion to the family’s 
scant resources. We are fed a delicious 
meal, chased down by the inevitable 
vodka. 

Ley tells us a joke currently making the 
rounds: “Some Americans were visiting a 
Soviet factory. They were shocked by the 
working conditions. How could the work- 
ers stand it? They decided to try an experi- 
ment. First, they gathered the workers 
together and told them, ‘From now on, 
you'll work twice as long for half pay.’ 
There were no complaints. Next day, they 
told the workers, “You'll work three times 
as long for quarter pay.’ No complaints. 
Finally, they said, ‘Work 24 hours a day 
for no pay and, what's morc, every tenth 
man will be taken and hanged from the 
factory gates.’ A hand was raised at the 
back of the crowd and a voice called out, 
“Do we need to bring our own rope? ” 

“Ever think of trying to leave?” I ask 
later. 

He shrugs. “I am Russian. I feel Rus- 
sian. I don't think I could live anywhere 
else.” 

“As long as you're {тее in your mind,” 
Zoya offers, “уоште truly free.” 

Free to do what? I almost ask her. 
Travel abroad? Start your own independ- 
ent newspaper? Stand in Red Square with 
a big sign saying, THE SOVIET CONSTITUTION 
15 A BUNCH OF HYPOCRITICAL CRAF? 

Instead, 1 offer a parting toast, thanking 
Lev for making Doria and me fecl a part of 
his family. 

“Think of who I’m related to now!” he 
laughs. 


DON'T RAIN ON MY DEMONSTRATSIA 


May Day dawns rainy, windy and mis- 
erably cold. Misha and I make the trek to 
Red Square, leaving our wiser female com- 
panions to watch the show on TV. 

The day's event is not, technically, а 
parade. The Soviets reserve that term for 
military displays. Demonstratsia is the oper- 
ative word when hordes of people march 
through the streets unarmed. 

Carrying every conceivable form of 
identification, tickets at the ready, we pro- 
ceed to check point number one, a line of 
militiamen stretched across the entrance 
to the square. 

“Be sure the signatures match,” growls 
a muscular officer to the grunt checking 
my credentials 

The young soldier looks first at my tick- 


et, then my visa, then passport. He glances 
from the photo to my face and back again. 
He repeats the process in reverse. That 
done, he starts all over again. This routine 
is repeated at two more check points 
before we're allowed to enter our desig- 
nated area 

The rain continues to pour. Standing 
with one foot in the diplomatic section, the 
other in that reserved for press, Misha and 
I are shielded by a canopy of umbrellas. 
The guy directly in front of me, however, 
keeps tilting his back, sending a cascade of 
frigid water down the bridge of my nose. 
Polite entreaties clicit nothing but a 
vaguely Eastern European grumble. The 
umbrella stays where it is. Finally, screw- 
ing on a broad smile, I attempt a more 
universal communication. 

“Excuse me, sir. If you don’t move the 
umbrella, PH shove it where the monkey 
put the onion.” 

The corner of his mouth begins to 
twitch spasmodically; his ears turn red. 
Slowly, very slowly, the umbrella tilts for- 
ward. 

Things could be worse. We could be 
members of the Politburo. One by 
one—Gorbachev, Gromyko, Romanov, et 
al.—they ascend to the top of Lenin's 
tomb and brace themselves against sheets 
of rain. No umbrellas. No awning. No 
wonder they drop like flics. Give them 
credit, though; a typical American politi- 
cian would buzz in by chopper, spend five 
minutes in a glass-enclosed booth, then 
high-tail it for home. These guys stand for 
the full three hours, braving not only 
weather but boredom. 

Once you've seen five minutes of a May 
Day demonstratsia, you have, indeed, seen 
it all. There’s no drama, no glamor, no 
Bullwinkle balloons. Мо  rose-covered 
replicas of the next five-year plan; no Grim 
Grom in silver-lamé chaps riding a pinto 


pony. Not a chance. Several million peo- 
ple tromp by, hauling floats in the shape of 
tractor parts. Lots of pictures of Lenin: 
wise old Lenin, fiery young Lenin, the baby 
Lenin, Lenin orating, Lenin meditating, 
i i inch 
Some 
of the stuff is rather aggressive: evil U 
warheads threatening a peaceful Soviet 
heartland, repeated references to “the 
imperialistic NATO alliance” and “fascist 
America.” All the while, martial music 
blares and an unctuous voice booms over a 
loud-speaker, chanting approved slogans: 
“Nuclear bombs—nyel! Nyet! Nyet! Peace 
оп carth—da! Da! Da!” 

“Pardon me.” А hollow-eyed, grayish 
man taps Misha on the shoulder and intro- 
duces himself as an assistant deputy secre- 
tary at the Soviet Forcign Ministry. “1 
understand President Ronald Reagan’s 
son is here today.” 

There is something unsettling, even 
vaguely sinister, in the man’s counte- 
nance. Both of us give him a blank stare. 
This is not the place I'd expect to be asked 
for an autographed glossy of my folks. 

“Nyet,” says Misha. “I wouldn't 
know.” 

A short exchange ensues, with Misha re- 
peating “Nyet” a lot and the sallow 
apparatchik shifting uneasily from foot to 
foot. Finally, he scurries off. 

“Occasionally, I remember why you're 
my agent,” I laugh. “You keep the rabble 
off my ass.” 

“Tus what I live for," says Misha, smil- 
ing. 

Down front, Soviet television is conduct- 
ing man-in-the-street interviews. Nervous 
bystanders are dragged over to read pre- 
pared dogma from cue cards. 

As the hours pass, thc spirits of even the 
most loyal cadres begin to flag. One tier 
below the Politburo chiefs, che minister оГ 


Euer 


SR I MEE E 
"eek Life ha e 


228 


PLAYBOY 


appropriate crowd response swings into 
action. Waving his arms, gesticulating 
madly, he exhorts marchers and crowd 
alike to new heights of soggy enthusiasm. 

Over in the diplomatic section, we're 
not buying his act. Chuckling, snorting, a 
trio of Africans nearby are having a grand 
time whacking one another with their 
complimentary red-carnation bouquets. 
Looks like a mescaline high to me. 

After an eternity, the procession grinds 
to a halt. The minister of A.C.R. is hop- 
ping up and down with excitement, antici- 
pating the big finale. He reminds me of 
опе of those neutered high school band 
directors. Crescendo! Everyone waves 
paper flowers, and preprogramed huzzahs 
ring out. Gorbachev throws one last wave 
at the masses and sprints for the cozy 
warmth of the Kremlin. 

Returning to Spaso House, Misha and I 
catch a glimpse of some marchers riding in 
the back of a flat-bed truck, gloomy, 
drenched, heading God knows where. 


RED ARROW TO DESPAIR 


Misha is standing in the door to my 
compartment, a demented look on his 
face. 

“Have you been to the bathroom yet?” 
he screeches. 

I've just spent the night in a bunk the 
size of a duffel bag and I’m not in the 
mood for toilet jokes, The entire previous 
day, May second, was a nightmare. 
Ambassador Hartman returned from his 
regular mecting at the Forcign Ministry to 
report that the Soviets were very curious 
about “this fellow traveling with Mr. Rea- 
gan.” Misha turned the color of a dirty 
ashtray and insisted we leave Moscow 
immediately —he wouldn't say why. 

After much frantic scrambling, we 
secured four rail tickets to Leningrad. Our 
train, the Red Arrow, left at midnight. On 
board, I filled Misha with cognac, and out 
poured a confused tale of an earlier trip to 
Moscow—something about someone or 
other's teenaged daughter and how it was 
really a frame-up, but in return for the 
American embassy’s (previous Admi 
tation) saving him from being buried up 
to his ears in permafrost, he’d agreed to 
always travel with a sex therapist. 

I must give off some pheromone that at- 
tracts this kind of deviate. Bumping down 
the passageway toward the bathroom, 
Misha is gibbering about “the horror, the 
horror." He's right, A herd of bilious goats 
must have passed through while we slept. 
Crusty, ocher-colored filth coats every 
available surface. There's no toilet paper. 
Press a foot pedal and the entire bottom of 
the toilet drops out to reveal tracks 
whooshing by below. 

“I was marked for death in this hell- 
hole,” whimpers Misha. 

Back in the cabins, Doria and Dr. Sally 
are impersonating pit vipers. Men can pee 
into beer cans, but women need a real 
bathroom. Now! 


Inspired ingenuity and a revolving towel 
dispenser enable us to rig up a trapeze 
over the toilet. The women swing safely 
above the crud. 

“A window on Europe”—that's what 
Peter the Great had in mind when he 
founded St. Petersburg, a.k.a. Leningrad, 
nearly 300 years ago. To that end, he com- 
missioned some of the finest architects in 
Europe and Asia to work their magic. And 
it is magical: Serpentine canals wind 
under gently arching bridges. The graceful 
facades of buildings lining the waterways 
iscent of Venice. While Moscow 
is the political capital, it’s clear that Len- 
ingrad remains the heart of Russian cul- 
ture. Look closer, though, and you see 
garbage rising to the oil-slick surface. 
Behind the fagades, filth and decay. Even 
the tap water poses a threat. The color of 
strong tea, it harbors parasites just waiting 
for an unguarded orifice. Take a bath and 
you risk being eaten alive from the inside 
out. 

Proximity to the free world (Finland is 
less than 100 miles away) has made Lenin- 
grad authorities even more wary than 
their paranoid Moscow brethren about 
Russians’ rubbing elbows with foreigners. 
Penalties can be severe. Not long ago, two 
Finnish rowdies got drunk and danced 
naked in a fount ‘The sentence: two 
and a half years in a labor camp making 
little ones out of big ones. 

The plate-glass doors of the Hotel As- 
toria are locked tight against the natives. 
Once more, my high-top sneakers gain us 
entree. Inside, on every floor, stern “key 
ladies” keep a sharp eye peeled. Walking 
down to the lobby, we overhear a routine 
call from one key lady to another— 
“They're coming down. Four of them. 
Taking the stairs.” Posted prominently, a 
notice warns, TO AVOID MISUNDERSTANDINGS, 
PLEASE INFORM THE KEY LADY WHENEVER YOU 
EXPECT OUTSIDE VISITORS. I assume the 
rooms are bugged. 

We have not adjusted easily to the 
Soviet Experience. At every turn, the watch- 
ing, following, cavesdropping, the need- 
less regulations, the plodding grimness 
of it all are beginning to chafe our 
psyches. Inexorably, we drift into a mist of 
ragc and despair. Misha sinks into a deep 
funk. He locks himself in the bathroom 
and starts dismantling lamp bases, all the 
time rumbling about “lousy Commie rat 
bastards.” Later, I catch a glimpse of 
myself in a mirror . . . standing on a chair 
beneath a chandelier, making obscene 
noises. 

Clearly, it’s time we returned to Mos- 
cow to prepare for our trip home. 1 book 
four tickets to Moscow on the next morn- 
ing's Aeroflot shuttle. 

. 

“Arise! Your selfless toil will build our 
great nation!” 

I'm jolted awake by an insistently shrill 
female voice that seems to emanate from 
within my pillow. “Work hard! Strive! In- 


crease productivity!” For a moment, I 
imagine I'm dangling by my heels in the 
vortex of ап Orwellian nightmare. 
“Remember the sacrifices of the Great 
Patriotic War!” All over the city, loud- 
speakers are rousing the public. On a Sat- 
urday? Ah, but today is the Subbotnik. 
Workers are "voluntarily" donating a day 
of free labor to the state. 1 flip on the TV 
and catch a newscaster sitting in front ofa 
map of the U.S. The only word I can make 
out is fascist. 

As the only foreigners, we are the last to 
board the plane, Four seats have been 
blocked off for us. In our seat pockets, 
someone has thoughtfully left a bit of read- 
ing material—courtesy of the Novosti 
Press Agency, the chief propaganda mill. 
Leafing through something called Do the 
Russian People Stand for War?, 1 discover 
that “the U.S.S.R. has a highly developed 
and stable economy steadily moving ahead 
without crises or recessions.” No wonder 
it can afford to “have no claims either 
on Afghanistan’s territory or on its 
resources.” As for the U.S. Government, 
well, “the most dangerous example of the 
Reagan Administration's irresponsible 
attitude toward the future of the world was 
the reckless way the American leadership 
conducted itself during the incident 
involving the South Korean airliner in 
1983.” Probably the result of the pervasive 
“Hollywood mentality” in Washington. 


DAY OF THE BABUSHKAS 


The balmy weather back in Moscow 
does nothing to lighten our spirits. 

“Т can feel the net closing around us,” 
confides Misha nervously. 

“You just need a little fresh air,” I tell 
him. "Stop worrying. Anyway, we're leav- 
ing tomorrow, What could happen now?” 

We decide to pick up our two refusenihs 
for an outing to a park. 1 figure they could 
use some fresh air, too. In the car, on the 
way to the Moscow Botanical Garden, 
Volodya and Sergei argue whether or not 
the worst excesses of the Stalin era are 
likely to be repeated. 

“АП I'm saying is that it could happen,” 
warns Sergei. 

“No, no.” Volodya shakes his head. 
“Gorbachev is no Stalin, but he is a practi- 
cal man. The problem of people like you 
and me will be solved . . . one way ог 
another.” 

The spring thaw has brought out the 
nature bufis—still swathed, however, in 
winter woolens. Shirtless, yipping and 
sloshing across the soggy grass, we try to 
nstruct our friends in the intricacies of 
Frisbee. The babushkas on patrol take a 
dim view of the proceedings. Lips curled, 
hackles raised, like arctic wolves fresh off 
the tundra, a pack gathers at the edge of 
the lawn. Their fuming and grumbling 
takes on the tone of a Cossack death 
chant. 

An errant toss and Misha belly-flops 
onto the sod at the old women’s feet. This 
is the opening they've been waiting for—a 


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just slightly ahead of our time?" 


PLAYBOY 


wounded elk has dropped from the herd. 
With a cry of what may be “Umree!” 
(“Die!”), the lead baba takes a vicious cut 
at Misha's head. He ducks, and her 
knobby cane whizzes past his left ear. 
Another steps forward, swings from the 
ankles and plants a tremendous left hook 
in his ribs. Misha lets out a bloodcurdling 
scream and begins floundering back across 
the wet field, the babushkas in pursuit. 

Sergei grabs my arm. “Leave him. He's 
finished. We can save ourselves if we make 
it to the woods.” 

Eyes wide with panic, Misha is just 
managing to stay ahead of the pack. Their 
walking sticks are sinking into the soft turf, 
slowing them down. 

I can't leave him. Not even a deviate lit- 
crary agent deserves such a death. Slosh- 
ing back, I take hold of his wrist and pull 
him forward. One baba, using her cane as 

ing pole, springs toward us, legs 
g, but falls short. I drag Misha into 
of trees. 
just proves they're after me,” he 
gasps. “That was a trained K.G.B. hit 
squad.” 


FAST EXIT 


The next morning, at the airport, Гуе 
got other things to worry about—like the 
two dozen jars of caviar I'm smuggling out 
of the country. In the Soviet Union, every- 
thing of value—aesthetic, monetary or 
otherwise—is classified as a “national 
treasure.” To leave with more than the 
allowed minimum amount is to risk spend- 
ing the rest of your life being shot out of a 
cannon in some Siberian circus. I'm way 
over the З 

Meanwhile, Dr. Sally, with her smatter- 
ing of Russian, has struck up а conversa- 


tion with a Soviet psychiatrist on his way 
to a conference. Seems they're in the same 
field. As they speak, I hear the word 
sukhostoy used several times, which makes 
the Soviet doctor smile. I figure the 
friendly word sukhostoy may come in 
handy. 

Actually, any friendly thing I could say 
would probably come in handy, consider- 
ing the glares I'm getting from a burly 
guard by the airport gate. The clacking of 
jars in my carry-on bag is beginning to 
attract attention, and we're ready to 
board. 

“Spasibo,” 1 say, handing the guard my 
ticket. I smile ingratiatingly at him. 
“Thank you. And sukhostoy.” 

I suddenly feel a frantic clawing at my 
sleeve and turn to find Misha with a terri- 
fied look on his face. 

“Holy shit!” he whispers. “You just 
wished him a prolonged male orgasm!” 
Without another word, the four of us break 
into a high-speed, modified Groucho 
Marx shuffle and scramble for the plane. 
Over my shoulder, it seems to me | see the 
guard grappling with his holster. 

“Comin” to London, Heathrow! 
Bringin’ in a kilo of roe!" Never has the 
dirty industrial fringe of London been so 
endearing, I feel like kissing a sooty hedge- 
row. Tripping through British customs, I 
belt out another chorus. А group of old 
ladies, English tourists wearing funny 
straw hats, give me a quizzical look. A 
chill attacks my viscera and I flinch invol- 
untarily. 

“You Yanks,” one says, smiling warmly. 
“You'd think you had just returned from 
the underworld.” 


“If I did go away with you for the weekend, would 
I have to floss after every meal?" 


COLD SCHNAPPS 
(continued from page 86) 
cherry, pear, apricot, orange among the 
fruits; various mints, including spearmint, 
menthol mint, wintergreen and chocolate 
mint; spicy cinnamon and ginger; plus a 
few wild ones such as watermelon, root 
beer and nutcracker amaretto. Currently, 
there are upwards of 80 labels and 25 dis- 
tinct schnapps flavors on the market— 
with more coming out every week. Are you 
ready for butterscotch, classic cola, 
blue-grass mint julep and coastal cran- 
berry? They’re coming. With its eruption 
of tastes and hues and its contemporary 
brio, this newest group of spirits is the most 
exuberant in the alcoholic-beverage held. 

Flavored schnapps are the perfect vehi- 
de to add a festive aura to any holiday 
frolic. They're extremely versatile, lending 
themselves to a variety of uses. The mints 
are great straight as shooters, chilled from 
the refrigerator or smooth and viscous 
from the freezer. Fruits combine amiably 
with virtually all mixers to make uncom- 
mon cocktails and tall drinks. You can also 
shoot them, and if you want a change 
from the classic punches, try a schnapps- 
laced bowl. You'll find it different. 

As often happens when a surge of new 
products hits the market, quality is a lit- 
tle spotty. However, you can generally 
depend on the offerings of the top produc- 
ers—Arrow, Bols, DeKuyper, Leroux, 
Marie Brizard, Mr. Boston, Regnier and 
Hiram Walker. And you can depend on 
this new category of spirits to put schnapp 
in your holiday fete. 


COLD SHOT 


% oz. Dr. McGillicuddy's Mentholmint 
Schnapps, cold 

% oz. white rum, cold 

Combine ingredients. For shooting, 
pour into large, chilled shot glass or tall, 
slender cordial glass. For sipping, pour 
over ice cube in small wineglass or old 
fashioncd glass. 


SOUR APPLE. 


2 ozs. Leroux Original Apple Country 
Schnapps 

% oz. lemon juice 

1% teaspoon Superfine sugar, opti 

Cherry 

% orange slice 

Briskly shake first 3 ingredients with ice. 

nto sour glass or over fresh 

old fashioned glass. Garnish with fruit. 
Note: This drink is pleasantly tart, but if 

you like a touch of sweetness, add sugar. 


nal 


WATERMELON 


1 oz. Mr. Boston The Original Straw- 
berry Schnapps 
1 oz. vodka 
1 oz. orange juice 
1 oz. sweet-and-sour mix 
Shake all ingredients with ice. Strain 
over fresh ice in tall glass. 
(concluded overleaf) 


RUTH GUERRI 


LESA ANN PEDRIANA 


DEVIN DEVASQUEZ 


PLAYMATE 


PLACI NOn ЖЕ 


AMERICA’S 
FAVORITE - 
CALENDAR 


The perfect holiday 
gift! (Remember to 
give yourself one.) 


AT 
NEWSSTANDS 
NOW! 


To order by mail: Specify "desk" 
or "wall" type. Send $5.00 for 
each (includes postage & 


| handling). Illinois residents, add 


7% sales tax. Canadian 

residents, send $8.00 for each, 

full amount payable in US. 

currency on 0.5. bank. Sorry, no 
other foreign orders. Send order | 
plus check or money order to: [ 

РВС, Р.О. Box 1554, Elk Grove 
Village, IL 60007. Allow 4-6 |] 
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PLAYBOY 


234 


PEACHY KIR 
1% ozs. peach schnapps 
3 ozs. dry white wine, chilled 
Pink and green melon balls 
Stir schnapps and wine with ice; strain 
into chilled champagne flute. Thread 
melon balls on pick and lay over glass. 


PURPLE RAIN 


1 oz. Arrow Blackberry Schnapps 

1 oz. vodka 

1% ozs. pineapple juice, chilled 

Pineapple chunk 

Mint sprig 

Over ice cubes in old fashioned glass, 
pour schnapps, vodka and juice. Stir well. 
Pineapple chunk and mint are optional, 
but they add a nice touch 


APPLESTRUDEL 


2 оғ5. Bols apple schnapps 
2 teaspoons cinnamon schnapps, or to 
taste 


Small wedge red-skinned apple 
Pour over ice in small old fashioned 
glass. Stir well. Garnish with apple. 


COLONEL PEACHTREE 


1 oz. DeKuyper Original Peachtree 
Schnapps 

1 oz. DeKuyper Apple Barrel Schnapps 

3 to 4 ozs. orange juice, chilled 

Gurl of orange peel 

Pour schnapps and juice over ice in old 
fashioned glass, Stir well. Twist orange 
peel over drink and add to glass. 


BRAIN DRAIN 


Fill shot glass with chilled peach or 
strawberry schnapps. Drizzle 1 teaspoon 
Irish cream liqueur into glass. Let drink 
stand a moment, without stirring, Drain 
glass in one shot. 


SCHNAPPS BALL. 


2 ozs. schnapps (your favorite flavor) 
Lime wedge 


“Greetings. I am the slave of whoever presses 
the cosine key!” 


Club soda, chilled 

Pour schnapps over ісе cubes іп high- 
ball glass. Squeeze in lime wedge, add 
peel; stir well. Add good splash of soda—2 
to 3 ozs., or to taste. Stir briefly. 


AFFAIR 


2 025. strawberry schnapps 

2 ozs. cranberry juice, chilled 

2 ozs. orange juice, chilled 

Orange twist or ripe strawberry 

Pour schnapps and juices over ice in 
highball glass. Stir. Garnish with orange 
twist or strawberry. 


SCHNAPPSICLE 


1% ozs. Hiram Walker Orchard Orange 
Schnapps 

Small scoop (3 ozs.) vanilla ice cream 

Y% cup finely crushed ice 

Club soda, chilled 

¥% orange slice 

Combine first 3 ingredients in chilled 
blender container. Blend until just 
smooth, Pour into chilled old fashioned 
glass. Add light splash of soda. Stir quick- 
ly. Garnish with orange, if you like. 


PEPPERMINT CANDY 


An original from the bar of the Royal 
Caribbean cruise ship Song of Norway. 

1% ozs. peppermint schnapps 

1% ozs, white créme de cacao 

2 ozs. cream, chilled 

1 cup crushed ice 

Dash grenadine 

Pour first 4 ingredients into chilled 
blender container. Blend about 10 sec- 
onds. Strain into large champagne coupe 
or Burgundy balloon. Top with light 
splash grenadine. Don’t stir. Serve with 
short straws. 

FIREHOUSE PUNCH 
(About 20 servings) 

1 pint strawberry schnapps 

1 package (10 ozs.) frozen sliced straw- 

berries 

2 bottles (750 ml.) California sparkling 

wine, chilled 

1 orange, thinly sliced 

Place frozen berries in bowl; add 
schnapps. When mixture is half thawed, 
refrigerate. At serving time, place small 
block of ice in 5- or 6-quart punch bowl. 
Pour schnapps mixture over ice, then add 
sparkling wine. Quickly stir to combine. 
Float orange slices on surface. Dip a bit of 
strawberry into every serving. 

What goes with schnapps? Friends, fun 
and food—anything you'd serve with 
other drinks: taco chips, cheeses, cold 
sliced meats, smoked fish, pâtés, nuts, 
rilletis, dips—you name it. Just make 
them casy to get at and keep "em coming. 


Theres only one thing that 
tastes more like a fat, juicy peach 
than Original Peachtree" Schnapps. 


DEKUYPER’ ORIGINAL PEACHTREE SC 
Straight, rocks, or with soda. Bite 


DeKuyper® Original Peachtree” Schnapps Liqueur 48 Proof, John DeKuyperand Son, 


PLAYBOY 


BASKETBALLPREVIEW 


(continued from page 142) 


“John Thompson (yes, son of that John Thompson) 
could be the answer to the Tigers’ prayers.” 


Gaels should again have a lopsided won- 
lost record, The Metro Atlantic title may 
depend on how quickly the Gael young- 
sters mature; their carly-scason schedule is 
rugged. Center Bob Coleman will again be 
the pivot of Iona's prospects. 

With three returning Starters and three 
top-drawer recruits (best of whom is—get 
this—Joe Paterno), Fordham will chal- 
lenge lona for the Metro Atlantic Confer- 
ence title. 

Fairfield will be the most improved 
team in the Metro Atlantic. Everyone 
retums from last year, and new coach 
Mitch Buonaguro has pledged to shore up 
a defense that was the league's weakest 
last season. An added plus is the arrival of 
superrecruit Andy Woodlli, a 6°10" center 
who will start immediately. 

La Salle will field a very young squad 
with no stars on the roster, which could 
improve the team’s concept of team play 
and help solve its biggest problem— 
consistent inconsistency. 

Prospects are bright for Holy Cross. 
Last year’s front-court woes will be amel- 
iorated by the arrival of three heralded 
freshmen. Guard Jim McCaffrey, though 
he labors in rela obscurity, is one of the 
most exciting players in the nation. 

Coach Bob Dukiet’s St. Peter's Peacocks 
are counting on 6'9” transfer center Der- 
rick Howell. Even with Howell in the line- 
up, however, the Peacocks will have a 
tough time matching last year's record— 
they've lost too many starters from the 
team that went 15-14 in 1984—1985. 

Thi: be another Valley Forge winter 
for Army. The Cadets will have to dig in 
and try to hold their ground until fresh- 
тап reinforcements begin producing. The 
field commander will again be guard 
Kevin Houston, who will win deserved 
All-Conference honors for the third 
straight year. 

Manhattan has endured two dismal sea- 
sons, losing far too many close games in 
the final ticks. New coach Tom Sullivan 
plans to solve that problem by using the 
squad's strengths—good guards and team 
quickness—in a new up-tempo defense. 

Columbia and Yale are the most 
improved units in the Ivy League; either 
could win the league championship. Both 
clubs are loaded with veterans and should 
be able to outclass their Ivy opponents. 

Columbia was probably the shortest 
Division I team in the country last season. 
The Lions haven't grown. They'll try to 
compensate with quickness and hustle. 

Yale started four freshmen and a sopho- 
more last scason. The accrued experience 
should be an enormous asset for "85-786. 
Center Chris Dudley will again be the 


Elis’ showcase talent. 

If a recurrence of last season's injury 
epidemic can be avoided, Pennsylvania 
may retain the league title. The Quakers 
have sharpshooting guard Perry Brom- 
well, exciting young forward Phil Pitts and 
prize recruit Jon Stovall. 

Cornell lost premier player Ken Ban- 
tum, but nearly everyone else returns. 
Freshman point guard Josh Wexler will be 


THE EAST 
BIG EAST CONFERENCE 


6. Boston College 
7. Seton Hall 

8. Connecticut 

9. Providence 


Syracuse 
Georgetown 
. 51. John's 
. Pittsburgh 
j. Villanova 


ATLANTIC TEN 
6. Duquesne 
7. Rutgers 
8. Rhode Island. 
St. Bonaventure 9. Massachusetts 
j. George Washington 10. Penn State 
METRO ATLANTIC CONFERENCE 
. lona . Holy Cross 
. Fordham . SL Peter's 
. Fairfield - Amy 
. Manhattan 


. La Salle 
IVY LEAGUE 


‚ Columbia j. Harvard 

. Yale j. Princeton 
Pennsylvania Dartmouth 
‚Cornell Brown 


| West Virginia 


OTHERS 


4. James Madison 
5. Nagara 


Navy 
George Mason 
Canisius 


STARS IN THE EAST: Washington, Addison (Syr- 
acuse), Wingate, Jackson (Georgetown); Berry 
(St. John's); Smith, Gore (Pittsburgh): Pressley 
(Villanova); McCready, Pressley (Boston Col- 
lege); McCloud (Seton Hall); Kelley (Connecti- 
cut); Starks (Providence); Martin (St. Joseph's); 
Blackwell (Temple); Blaney, Brown (West 
Virginia), Mungar (St. Bonaventure); O'Reilly 
(George Washington); Suder (Duquesne); Moore 
(Rutgers); (Rhode Island); Smith 
(Massachusetts); Chrabascz (Penn State); 
Simmonds, Coleman (lona); McCormick 
(Fordham); George (Fairfield); Greenberg (La 
Ше); McCaffrey (Holy Cross): Howell (St. 
Houston (Army); Lawson (Manhattan); 
jwydir (Columbia). Dudley (Yale); Bromwell 
(р. Bajusz (Comell); Duncan (Har- 
vard); Scott (Princeton); Randall (Dartmouth); 
Waitkus (Brown); Robinson, Butler (Navy), Wil- 
son (George Mason); Smith (Canisius); New- 
man (James Madison); Arlauckas (Niagara). 


a starter by midseason. 

Harvard faces a down ycar duc to 
diploma attrition—everybody graduated. 
By next spring, the Crimson may be blush- 
ing when the team looks at its record, 

The key to Princeton’s fortunes is the 
center conundrum, John Thompson (yes, 
son of that John Thompson) could be the 


answer to the Tigers’ prayers ifhe can bet- 
ter his offensive skills. 

Dartmouth’s dismal 5-21 record last 
year was due mostly to a shortage of 
height. Now a fabulous freshman class— 
including several biggies like 6' 11" center 
Jason Lobo—comes to the rescue. The 
Big Green may surprise everyone. 

Brown's fortunes revolve around 
whether or not replacements can be found 
for two graduated front-court starters. It 
looks like cellar time. 

This will be a banner season in Annapo- 
lis, though. Navy won 26 games last year, 
and all five starters return. The Middies 
have one of the finest front lines in the 
country, including 6'11” David Robinson. 
The bench will be stronger, too—this re- 
cruiting class may be the best in history. 

George Mason will also improve, thanks 
to four returning starters and a prize crop 
of recruits. The best of the new arrivals is 
guard Earl Moore. 

Last season, Canisius qualified for post- 
season play for the first time in 22 years. 
This year’s team needs senior leadership 
and scoring. The latter will come from 
sophomore guard Brian Smith; the for- 
mer will come with time. Coach Nick 
Macarchuk's team will make the tourna- 
ment again one of these days—and it 
won't be 22 years before it does. 

This will be a winter of contentment 
for James Madison if new coach John 
Thurston can teach his system quickly toa 
solid group of veterans and the finest 
bunch of recruits in school history. Trans- 
fer forward Ken Schwartz (from Army) 
will make an immediate impact. 

Niagara will be more aggressive, with 
much more depth and muscle. New coach 
Andy Walker has brought in four recruits 
who could become starters without pass- 
ing со. 


THE MIDWEST 


The Big Ten teams might pull off a first 
this year—they could finish in the exact 
order they did last season. Michigan has a 
better-than-even chance to retain the 
championship, but don't bet big bucks on 
it. Illinois should be a close contender. 

Michigan’s cast returns intact. The 
Wolverines will again be coquarterbacked 
by excit rds Antoine Joubert and 
Gary С Everything depends on 
whether ог not this year’s freshman class 
can provide the dependable depth that 
Michigan lacked last season. 

Illinois, with all its starters back, will 
also be a near duplicate of last year’s e 
tion. The Mini have a chance to be 
stronger, however, because their only dis- 
cernible liability last winter—no in- 
timidators under the basket—could be 
eliminated by the debuts of two seven-foot 
Germans. Olaf Blab (brother of Uwe) and 
Jens Kujawa. Another newcomer, Lowell 
Hamilton, was one of the nation’s most 
coveted high school recruits. 

lowa's treasure-trove of recruits will 


dictate emphasis on running. Last year's 
inconsistent outside shooting has to im- 
prove. Three Hawkeye newcomers could 
be starters by January—the best of that 
lot is forward Ed Horton. If the youngsters 
catch on quickly, the Hawkeyes could be 
the upstart of the Big Ten. 

With three starters departed, the nu- 
cleus of this year’s Purdue team will be the 


THE MIDWEST 
BIG TEN 

1. Michigan 6. Michigan State 
2. Illinois 7. Indiana 

. lowa 8. Wisconsin 
4. Purdue 9. Minnesota 
5. Ohio State 10. Northwestern 

‘MID-AMERICAN CONFERENCE 

1. Miami University 6. Kent State 
2. Ohio University 7. Central Michigan 
3. Northern Illinois 8. Toledo 


4. Western Michigan 9. Bowling Green 
5. Ball State 10. Eastem Michigan 
MIDWESTERN CITY CONFERENCE 
1. Butler 5. St. Louis 
2. Loyola of Chicago 6 Oral Roberts 
3. Xavier. 7. Evansville 
4. Detroit 
OTHERS 
1. Notre Dame 3. DePaul 
2. Marquette 4. Dayton 


MID-STATES GREATS: Tarpley, Grant (Michi- 
gan); Alterberger, Douglas, Winters (Illinois): 
Wright (lowa); Lewis (Purdue); Hopson (Ohio 
State); Skiles (Michigan State); Alford (Indi. 


bizio (Ball State; Wearsch (Kent State); 
Mejerle (Central Michigan); Campbell (Toledo); 
Robinson (Bowling Green); Cooper (Eastern 
Michigan); Tucker (Butler); Golston (Loyola of 
Chicago); Larkin, Lee (Xavier); Wendt (Detroit); 
Renken (St. Louis); Irons (Dral Roberts); Mukes 


(Evansville); Rivers, Barlow (Notre Dame); Trot- 
ter (Marquette); Comegys (DePaul); Colbert 
(Dayton). 


fast-maturing members of last season's 
fabulous freshman crop. Two of this year's 
recruits, forward Kip Jones and center 
Melvin McCants, will make big splashes. 
The Boilermakers may be the best soph- 
frosh-dominated team in the country, so 
Just wait till next year. 

Ohio State will again have a deep, quick 
backcourt despite the departure of last 
year’s two best guards. The problem for 
coach Eldon Miller will be finding some 
matching talent to play under the basket. 
Center Brad Sellers, a seven-footer, will be 
the building block of Miller’s front court. 

Michigan State also has questions in the 
front line. Center Mario 1220, a redshirt 
freshman last season, will be a big help. 
Another newcomer, guard Vernon Carr, 
has impressive credentials and will be an 
immediate starter. He and Scott Skiles 
give the Spartans awesome backcourt fire- 
power. 

Indiana coach Bobby Knight has 
brought in three junior college players to 
help correct the Hoosiers’ lack of strength 


and quickness. The shooting will again be 
bull’s-eye sharp, but the loss of Uwe Blab 
will leave Indiana without a true center 
until sophomore Magnus Pelkowski is 
ready to take over. This squad looks like a 
pale shadow of the Hoosier teams of a few 
years back. Maybe Knight should spend 
less of his time playing Mr. Time Bomb 
The man may scare away as many recruits 
as he signs. 

Wisconsin is still in the early stages of 
coach Steve Yoder’s rebuilding program, 
but prospects are bright. Last season, the 
Badgers finished 14—14— their best record 
in five years—and all of Madison went 
on a binge. Badger hopes for improve- 
ment this season rest with two freshmen, 
guard Trent Jackson and center Darin 
Schubring. 

Minnesota coach Jim Dutcher has a 
return of the same old problem—trying to 
get some point production from his for- 
wards. A cure for the hot-cold syndrome 
suffered by recent Gopher teams would 
also help. Three solid vets return from last 
year, but the rest of the crew is a mystery. 
A Gopher fan told us, That's what makes 
each season so exciting—not knowing 
what the hell is going to happen.” And 
that, of course, is what makes every college 
team’s season exciting, 

Northwestern has a familiar problem, 
too: no talent. Another suicidal schedule 
won't help. Point production may come 


биж. brown 


from three high-scoring recruits, Tim 
Wyss, Jeff Grose and Brian Schwabe—all 
will be immediate starters—but the Wild- 
cats will be just as mild as their long- 
suffering fans have come to expect 

Miami University had a superseason 
last year, this one will be even better. 
Everybody returns, including Ron 
Harper. He'll become the top scorer in 
Mid-American Conference history. 

Ohio University’s fortunes depend on 
the play of big men Rich Stanfel and John 
Rhodes. They will be aided by promising 
freshman Paul Graham. 

The Northern Illinois show will be a 
one-man feature, with forward Kenny 
Battle starring. The question is, If Battle is 
such a prize, why did the Huskers win only 
11 games last year? The answer: Four 
freshman starters. Inexperience will be 
less of a problem this season. 

Western Michigan will be better, thanks 
to four returning starters, a deep bench 
and four talented newcomers. The top 
man, again, will be forward Donald 
Petties. 

Ball State also retains four starters, 
including Dan Palombizio, the nation’s 
top returning scorer. The Cardinals will 
be the most experienced team in the con- 
ference, if not the most imposing. 

Kent State’s backcourt was devastated 
by graduation. The front line will have to 
carry a heavy load, and center Terry 


“Kid, you sure write one hell of a leiter!” 


PLAYBOY 


Wearsch will be the fulcrum. The early- 
season schedule is a knuckle-buster. 

Central Michigan's new coach, Charles 
Coles, takes over a team with a dry talent 
reservoir. The one nugget in sight is for- 
ward Dan Majerle, who will be phenome- 
nal if he can stay healthy for a change. A 
banner crop of recruits will help turn the 
Chippewas’ fortunes around by '86 or '87. 
Six straight losing scasons is such a 
downer. 

Toledo will have trouble continuing its 
current string of 26 consecutive winning 
seasons. Last year's top three players are 
missing, few of the returnees are proven 
performers and there are no superstuds 
among the recruits. Past years’ rebound- 
ing problems will continue. 

This season’s is a very young Bowling 
Green team. The starting unit may consist 
of three sophomores and two freshmen. 
‘Two prime recruits are transfer Jim Smith 
(from Wisconsin) and freshman Dan 
Raupp. 

Eastern Michigan's graduation losses 
were few but crucial. The yourgsters will 
have to develop quickly, and EMU's lack 
of size will be a big stumbling block. 

Butler's surprising success last scason 
was a precursor to even better happenings 
this year. The Bulldogs have unaccus- 
tomed depth. Chad Tucker will emerge as 
one of the premier playcrs in the Midwest, 
and transfer center Mike Yeater will be a 
big plus under the basket. 

Loyola's graduation losses were many. 
Point guard Carl Golston and center 
Andre Moore will form the foundation of 
coach Gene Sullivan’s rebuilding рго- 
gram; the best of Sullivan's recruits is 
guard Bernard Jackson. 

The entire Xavier team returns, forming 
a strong contender for the conference title. 
Last year’s liabilities—inexperience and 
inconsistency—shouldn’t be a problem 
this time. 

Detroit will benefit from an abundance 
of game experience, but the Titans will 
have to improve their dismal rebounding if 
they are to make a run for the money, 

St. Louis, Oral Roberts and Evansville 
were depleted by graduation. All three 
must begin rebuilding. 

St. Louis fans may not recognize their 
team—four newcomers win starting roles. 

First-year Oral Roberts coach Ted 
Owens inherits just one returning starter, 
one prime recruit and zero seniors. Uni- 
versity president Oral Roberts, who has a 
direct telephone hookup to God, should 
get on the horn and ask for some divine 
intervention. 

Evansville's new coach, Jim Crews. who 
escaped from cight years of purgatory as 
Bobby Knight’s top assistant, has a lot of 
rebuilding to do. No one should expect 
quick results, but Crews is a good bet to 
shape up a Midwestern City champ before 
the decade is out. 

Notre Dame won 21 games last year, 
and that was just a warm-up for 1985. All 
of the key Irish return, including speed- 


demon guard David Rivers. Coach Digger 
Phelps hands Rivers the ball and lets him 
run the show. The secret to success this 
season will be getting the other players to 
pitch in and help Rivers. He is so spectac- 
ular that his teammates have a tendency to 
stand back and watch him do it all, The 
only possible problem position is the of- 
guard slot. Rookie Mark Stevenson could 
solve it. 

For the first time in many years, Mar- 
quette will be stronger at the base linc 
than in the backcourt. The best of the 
front-liners will be transfer forward David 
Boone. Despite a tougher schedule, this 
could be a big усаг in Milwaukee if the 
Warriors can dodge last winter's injuries. 

DePaul is loaded with experience and 
power under the basket, but the backcourt 
will be manned by two rookies, Rodney 
Strickland and Terence Greene. The Blue 
Demons may be a lot better than their 
final won-lost record will indicate—the 
Demons’ schedule is downright demonic 

Optimism at Dayton is centered on the 
return from injury—after a year’s ab- 
sence—of premium center Ed Young. If 
the Flyers’ defense isn't too leaky, they'll 
straighten up and fly right. 


THE SOUTH 


North Carolina will be awesome. The 
Tar Heels have the ingredients to win 
everything. Losses from last year’s 27-9 
team were minimal, and two hot-shot for- 
ward recruits (Kevin Madden and Steve 
Bucknall) will fill the only discernible 
gaps. The Tar Heels will again have one of 
the nation’s top backcourts, and a tower- 
ing front line, led by Playboy All-America 
center Brad Daugherty, will suffocate 
opponents. с 

Duke's prime ambition is to ambush 
North Carolina. With a little luck, it may 
pull it off. Only one of last year’s big 
contributors is missing, and three quality 
recruits have been added. Playboy All- 
America guard Johnny Dawkins will be as 
dazzling as сусг. Supershooter Kevin 
Strickland is loaded with talent and should 
blossom in the national spotlight. 

Georgia Tech is the third Atlantic Coast 
Conference team with a solid chance to 
reach the final four. The key will be the 
play of seven-foot Playboy All-America 
forward John Sallcy. He is that rare senior 
who gets better with every game. Mark 
Price is one of the nation’s best point 
guards. Center Tom Hammonds may be 
the best freshman in the A.C.C. 

Oh, yes, we forgot to mention Mary- 
land! The Terps could also wind up on top 
of the heap because of the presence of 
Playboy All-America forward Len Bias, 
plus minimal graduation losses from a 
team that won 25 games last season. Cen- 
ter Derrick Lewis is one of the best shot 
blockers in the nation, and Keith Gatlin is 
one of its finest point guards. The biggest 
problem is an unreliable second string. 

It's rebuilding time at North Carolina 


State. Four of last season's top players аге 
gone. Two rookie forwards, Teviin Binns 
and Walker Lambiotte, could steal the 
show their first year, though. And sopho- 
more Chris Washburn is a future All- 
American. 

Without a senior on the roster, Virginia 
could have leadership problems. But with 
center Olden Polynice inside, the Cavaliers 
will at least be strong up front. 

Clemson’s hopes are based on the 
return from injury of forward Anthony 
Jenkins and the arrival of a bonanza crop 
of recruits. The Tigers still need a big 
inside scorer. 

Rookie Wake Forest coach Bob Staak 
begins his job of resurrecting the Deacons’ 


THE SOUTH 


. ATLANTIC COAST CONFERENCE 
. North Carolina 
Duke 


5. North Carolina State 


j. Georgia Tech A 
. Maryland 8. Wake Forest 


‘SOUTHEASTERN CONFERENCE 


. Louisiana State 6. Tennessee 
Auburn 7. Florida 

.. Alabama 8. Vanderbilt 

. Kentucky 9. Mississippi State 

J. Georgia 10. Mississippi 


METRO CONFERENCE 


|. Memphis State | 5. South Carolina 
. Louisville 6. Florida State 
. Cincinnati 7. Southern Mississippi 


Virginia Tech 
SUN BELT CONFERENCE 


. Alabama- 4. Jacksonville 
Birmingham 5. Westem Kentucky 

Old Dominion 6. South Florida 

. Virginia Common- 7. South Alabama 
wealth 8. UNC Charlotte 


SUPERIOR SOUTHERNERS: Daugherty, Smith 
(North Carolina); Dawkins, Amaker (Duke); 
Salley, Price (Georgia Tech); Bias, Gatlin 
(Maryland); Washburn (North Carolina State); 
Polynice (Virginia); Corbit (Clemson); Bogues 
(Wake Forest); Wilson, Williams, Horford (Loui- 
siana State); Person, Ford (Auburn); Johnson, 
Coner (Alabama); Walker, Davender (Kentucky); 
Ward (Georgia); White (Tennessee); Moten 
(Florida); Burrow (Vanderbilt); Robinson (Mis- 
sissippi State); Ritchwood (Mississippi); 
Tumer, Bedford (Memphis State); Wagner, 
Thompson (Louisville); McClendon (Cincinnati); 
Curry (Virginia Tech), Моуе (South Carolina); 
‚Allen (Florida State); Fisher (Southern Missis- 
sippi); Mitchell, Mincy (Alabama-Birmingham); 
Gattison (Old Oominion); Brown (Virginia Com- 
monwealth); Smith, Murphy (Jacksonville); 
Johnson (Western Kentucky); Tonelli {South 
Florida); Henry (South Alabama); Williams 
(UNC Charlotte). 


fortunes this fall, but it will bea long, up- 
hill struggle in the nation’s strongest соп- 
ference. This year's will be one of the. 
youngest squads in school history—at 
least two recruits will have to start. 

The Southeastern Conference race looks 
like a dead heat between Auburn and 
Louisiana State, with Alabama and Ken- 
tucky close behind. 

Louisiana State will be one of the most 
improved teams in the South. The Tigers 
were very young last year and should 


“The great thing about the new year is it's always the same as the last year.” 


239 


PLAYBOY 


240 


benefit greatly from added experience. 
The addition of phenomenal freshman 
center Tito Horford will also help. Coach 
Dale Brown’s experimentation and posi- 
tion shuffling are finally oyer, and the 
Tigers have the stability they need to win 
the conference. 

Auburn has one great basketball player: 
Playboy All-America forward Chuck Per- 
son (also an intelligent and personable 
young person). Auburn’s VIP will be 
backed up by four other returning starters. 
Heralded freshman forward Michael Jones 
could win a starting berth by midscason. 
The Tigers will have to remedy their worst 
defect, a crippling turnover rate—in short, 
buttery fingers. 

Alabama has everything except a prime 
post man. Both of last year’s centers have 
graduated. The backcourt, however, will 
be excellent, and team depth, a trouble 
spot last year, will be less of a problem. 

By Kentucky standards, last year's 
18-13 record was a disaster. New coach 
Eddie Sutton will move the Wildcats back 
to the top of the Southeastern Conference, 
but it may take a year or two. As usual, the 
talent larder is brimming over (Ken- 
tucky’s basketball prestige makes recruit- 
ing relatively easy). This year’s premier 
Wildcat is Playboy All-America forward 
Kenny Walker, but guard Ed Davender 
isn’t far behind. 

The Georgia Bulldogs boast depth and 
experience. An added asset will be fresh- 
man Toney Mack, the country’s top high 
school scorer last year. The defection of 
controversial Cedric Henderson may ben- 
efit team morale more than it will damage 
team talent Head man Hugh Durham, 
like many other Southeastern Conference: 
coaches, may never learn that basketball 
players must be students as well as ath- 
letes. Next year, he’s liable to recruit 
Bucolic Buffalo out of the Tumbleweeds 
comic strip—if LSU coach Dale Brown 
doesn’t sign him first. 

Tennessee's guard contingent vanished 
at graduation ceremonies. Injuries and 
foul trouble in the backcourt must be 
avoided if the Vols are to Welcome 
reinforcements will be freshman center 
Doug Roth and returning redshirt Tyrone 
Harper. 

Florida’s front-line losses were heavy, 
which means that two grade-A recruits, 
Chris Capers and John Currington, will be 
pressed into immediate action. The Gator 
guards are among the best in the league, 
so this year’s hopes depend on how the 
front line comes together. 

Vanderbilt's manpower shortage has 
been alleviated by one of the best recruit- 
ing crops in many years, Forward Randy 
Neff will be an especially helpful addition. 
The chief Commodore will be Brett Bur- 
tow, one of the South’s better centers. 

This Mississippi State team will be just 
as good as last year’s, but there’s a prob- 
lem—most of the S.E.C. teams will be 
much improyed, so the Bulldogs may have 


trouble staying out of the cellar. 

Mississippi fans haye reason for cau- 
tious optimism, because their team is no 
longer dominated by freshmen and sophs. 
The return from injury of marksman 
Bruce Tranbarger is another plus, Two 
junior college transfers, Eric Smith and 
Ronnie Sims, will provide sorely needed 
help on the boards. 

Memphis State will again be the top 
team in the Metro Conference, despite the 
graduation of Keith Lee and an off-season 
house of horrors that included sensational 
accusations of recruiting violations, point 
shaving and undercover handouts to ath- 
letes by bird-brained fans and shady char- 
acters. Memphis State athletics, for some 
inexplicable reason, seern to attract the 
attention of the seamiest, greediest ele- 
ments of Memphis’ population. If Tiger 
coach Dana Kirk can get his players to 
look past last season's scandal, "85-86 
may be another great year. Kirk has a 
wealth of talent to work with. Expect Bas- 
kerville Holmes to reach his full potential 
and earn national acclaim this season. 

Louisville fans consider last season 
(only 19 wins) an embarrassment, but 
prospects are brighter this year. Last win- 
ter’s slew of injuries should not recur, the 
roster is as talent-laden as ever and coach 
Denny Crum hit a mother lode during 
recruiting season. Pervis Ellison and Tony 
Kimbro could win starting jobs their fresh- 
man year. 

Cincinnati was the most improved Divi- 
sion I team in the country last year (three 
wins to 17 wins in only one year). The 
progress will continue, because the Bear- 
cats, though still young, have gained valu- 
able game experience. Multitalented 
guard Roger McClendon, only a sopho- 
more, will be the main man. 

Virginia Tech’s fortunes will be tied to 
the performance of Playboy All-America 
guard Dell Curry, one of the country’s 
most exciting players and a brilliant out- 
side shooter. Center Roy Brow, a sopho- 
more, will benefit greatly from a year's 
experience and could fulfill his enormous 


The first priority at South Carolina is 
learning how to win games away from 
home. The Gamecocks didn’t win a single 
road game last year. Recruits will play a 
big role in Columbia this year. The Dozier 
twins, Terry and Perry, and Darryl Martin 
will see a lot of action their rookie season. 

Few teams in our memory have been as 
gutted by graduation as Florida State. But 
there is good news, too—the club is loaded 
with talented transfers, all of whom were 
redshirted last year and are now ready to 
step in and take over. Best of the bunch are 
David Shaffer, LaRae Davis and (this man 
should have gone to NC State) Raleigh 
Choice. 

The main concern at Southern Mi: 
i is finding a lacement for last 
year's star, James Williams. The retum- 
сез, still very young, will profit from added 


maturity. They'll also profit from the pres- 
ence of rookie center John Ginley 

Alabama-Birmingham has everything a 
team needs to be a nationally ranked 
power—except a killer instinct. If the 
Blazers can overcome their tendency to let 
opponents back into a game that ought to 
be over, they could find themselves in the 
top ten by season’s end. The talent stock- 
pile is rich in depth and quality, the latter 
personified by Playboy All-America guard 
Steve Mitchell. 

Old Dominion will benefit from the 
arrival of an exciting new talent— 
freshman Bernard Royster should make 
headlines his first year. 

Virginia Commonwealth was nearly 
obliterated by graduation—five of six top 
players are gone. New coach Mike Pollio 
will construct his first team around the 
multiple skills of Michael Brown. 

Jacksonville and Western Kentucky had 
few graduation losses and will be the most 
proved teams in the Sun Belt Confer- 
ence. Jacksonville will substitute freely 
and wear down opponents with a full- 
court press. Western Kentucky's great raw 
talent of last year has been refined and has 
matured. Rookie guard Ray Swogger 
could be a star right away. 

South Florida lost last year's two top 
scorers, and no comparable replacements 
are in sight. It will be a long, tough winter 
in Tampa. 

South Alabama returns only one player 
who started more than six games last sea- 
son, but several adequate replacements 
are present among the ten newcomers. 

UNC Charlotte has а new coach (Jeff 
Mullins), whose first job will be the 
impossible task of replacing fabulously tal- 
ented center Clinton Hinton. Last season, 
as а freshman, Hinton was not only the 
Sun Belt Rookie of the Year; he also led the 
league in eating, public drama: а 
flaky haircuts. Last summer, he trans- 
ferred to Eastern Kentucky, so Charlotte 
fans won't see many wins. They'll have to 
be content with memories of Hinton. 


THE NEAR WEST 


You think Kansas was great last season? 
Wait till this year! All starters and nine of 
the top ten Jayhawks return. Two of them, 
Danny Manning and Ron Kellogg, are 
legitimate All-American candidates. 
Jayhawks’ only discernible weakness is ге- 
bounding—and that should be cured by 
the sure hands of transfer forward Archie 
Marshall. 

Don't be surprised if Oklahoma gives 
Kansas fits in the run for the conference 
championship. Fans who feared that 
Sooner basketball would drop off the edge 
of the earth when Wayman Tisdale opted 
for the pros will be pleasantly surprised. 
There is a wealth of talent returning. 
Rookie forward Ron Roberts, who was 
among the top big men in junior college 
ranks last season, brings immediate help 
for the front court 

Iowa State has a solid nucleus in guard 


Jeff Hornacek (the floor general) and for- 
ward Jeff Grayer. Four newcomers will get 
a lot of playing time, and transfer Tom 
Schafer will likely win a starting berth. 

The Nebraska Cornhuskers will once 
again be built around Playboy All- 
America center Dave Hoppen. Transfer 
Deak Vance will shore up the forward 
position, last scason’s weak spot. Another 
transfer, Bernard Day, will start at small 
forward. If Hoppen gets enough help up 
front, the Huskers just might surprise 
everyone and husk their way to the Big 
Eight championship. 

Missouri has lost last year’s top two 
players, but a solid core of talent remains. 
Freshman center Gary Leonard, a seven- 
footer, will greatly improve the Tigers’ 
stick-to-itiveness under the boards. 

When was the last time you heard of a 
team that lost its five best players and got 
better? It could—and probably will— 
happen this year at Oklahoma State. The 
departees weren’t world-beaters, and a 
fabulous recruiting bonanza will pay 
immediate dividends. The most impres- 
sive of the newcomers are junior college 
All-American Muhammad Akbar and 
Alan Bannister, a 7'4" 250-pounder from 
England. 

Colorado, with its top seven players ге- 
turning, could be a factor in the Big Eight 
race if the Buffs just figure out how to play 
on the road. Last year, their road record 
was a perfect 0-13. Guard speed, another 
shortcoming last season, will improve this 
time around. 

Only five names from last year’s Kansas 
State roster return, but a large contingent 
of rookies can offer more strength and raw 
talent than their predecessors. Their lack 
of experience, obviously, will lead to many 
turnovers. 

Arkansas has the inside track in the 
Southwest Conference race despite an un- 
usual liability: The Razorbacks have по 
freshmen or seniors of any significance. 
The sophomore and junior contingents are 
golden, however, so this year should make 
a triumphant debut for new coach Nolan 
Richardson. Sophomore Andrew Lang is 
the league's best center and could become 
the best in Arkansas history before he 
graduates. Kenny Hutchinson and Allie 
Freeman are a super guard tandem. 

Four Texas A & M starters are back, 
along with the entire A & M bench. That 
should solve last season’s depth problem. 
Forward Winston Crite—a superb re- 
bounder—and guard Don Marbury will 
be the Aggies’ M.V.P.s. 

Houston is still trying to recover from 
the graduation two years ago of Akeem 
“the Dream” Olajuwon. The inside game 
will again be weak, despite the impressive 
development of Greg Anderson. The Cou- 
gars have a surplus of individual talent but 
haven't learned to put it together in an effi- 
cient operation. [f all the gears mesh 
properly, Houston will be a contender for 
the S.W.C. championship. 


Baylor will be the most improved team 
in the conference. Five of Baylor's top 
eight players last year were freshmen; а 
years experience will make a dramatic 
difference, New coach Gene Iba will have 
the Bears at the top of the league in а cou- 
ple of years. 

Texas Tech lost all five of last year's 
starters, but the recruiting crop is one of 
the best ever. Transfer Dwayne Chism and 
freshman Sean Gay will make valuable 
contributions, starting with the opening 
tip-off of Tech's first game. 

Southern Mcthodist also suffered at 
graduation, and none of the SMU signees 
will provide much immediate help. Point 
guard Butch Moore will be the team’s 
leader and most noteworthy player. 

Rice coach Tommy Suitts signed seven 
top-drawer recruits in an effort to fix last 


THE NEAR WEST 
BIG EIGHT 


5. Missouri 

6. Oklahoma State 
lowa State 7. Colorado 

. Nebraska 8. Kansas State 


‘SOUTHWEST CONFERENCE 


. Arkansas. 6. Southern Methodist 
Texas A&M 7. Rice 
Houston 8. Texas Christian 
Baylor 9. Texas 
Texas Tech 


MISSOURI VALLEY CONFERENCE 


. Bradley 6. Creighton 
Illinois State 7. Wichita State 
Tulsa 8. West Texas State 
Drake 9. Southern Illinois 
Indiana State 


BEST OF THE NEAR WEST: Manning, Kellogg 
(Kansas); Kennedy, Bowie (Oklahoma); 
Ногпасек (lowa State); Hoppen (Nebraska). 
Strong (Missouri); Akbar, Bannister (Oklahoma 
State); Downs (Colorado): Mitchell (Kansas 
State); Lang, Hutchinson (Arkansas). Crite 
(Texas A & M); Franklin (Houston); Williams. 
(Baylor); Chism (Texas Tech); Moore (Southern 
Methodist); Hines (Rice); Holcombe (Texas 
Christian); Willock (Texas); Les (Bradley); Brak- 
sick (Minois State); Moss (Tulsa); Mathis 
(Drake). Williams (Indiana State); Morris 
(Creighton); Santos (Wichita State); Graham 
(West Texas State); Welch (Southern Ilinois). 


Kansas 
Oklahoma: 


season's crippling lack of size, depth and 
perimeter shooting. Ten of the names on 
this year's 13-man roster belong to fresh- 
men ог sophs. By season's end, all five 
starters could be frosh. 

Graduation crippled the Texas Chris- 
tian backcourt, which has been the team’s 
main strength. Rookie guard Carl Lott 
will pick up some of the slack. But un- 
less the inside game—especially the 
rebounding—improves considerably, this 
could be a winter when the Horned Frogs 
hibernate. 

Texas had one star last year, forward 
Mike Wacker, but Wacker has graduated 
and the remaining Longhorns are less than 
impressive. They will be more experienced 
and will have more depth than last year’s 
team, but some quality talent must be 
found for the front court if the Longhorns 


are to escape the conference cellar. 

Bradley is the team of the future—the 
immediate future—in the Missouri Valley 
Conference. Four starters and nine letter- 
men return. The backcourt, featuring Jim 
Les and Hersey Hawkins, could be one of 
the nation’s finest. 

Neither Illinois State nor Tulsa can ex- 
pect to duplicate last season’s impressive 
showings. The starting five at both schools 
was wiped out by graduation. Illinois 
State will get help from recruits Jay Teagle 
and Sonny Roberts. Tulsa’s main hope lies 
in the considerable abilities of new coach 
J. D. Barnett. 

Drake will be the most improved team 
in the Missouri Valley. A lack of both 
numbers and talent has been a problem at 
Drake for years, but coach Gary Garner 
has stocked his squad with eight promising 
newcomers. The one stellar member of the 
bunch 15 transfer forward David Miller. 

It may take a while for new Indiana 
State coach Ron Greene to implement his 
system, but the talent is on hand. Transfer 
forward Larry Bush will be the Syca- 
mores’ most important addition; swing 
man John Sherman Williams is one of the 
country's unknown thrillers. 

Creighton's first-year coach, Tony Ba- 
rone, takes on a complete remodeling job. 
His returning players have little experi- 
ence and little discernible talent, and there 
is only one freshman on the roster—all of 
which leaves faint hope for Creighton's 
near future. 

The major factor in Wichita State's for- 
tunes will be the recovery from injury оГ 
center John Askew. The backcourt will be 
taken over by two talented recruits, Steve 
Grayer and Lew Hill. 

West Texas State was hindered by 
immaturity last year, so a year's passing 
should make a difference. Orlando Gra- 
ham is going to be one of the M.V.C.'s 
best big men. 

Southern Illinois lost almost everybody 
from last year and new coach Rich Herrin 
was hired too late to do much recruiting. 
Since walk-ons will make up most of the 
squad, this year's record won't necessarily 
reflect Herrin's abilities. The good Lord 
Himself couldn’t win with walk-ons. 


THE FAR WEST 


Oregon State, after a 22-7 performance 
last year, returns essentially intact. Trans- 
fer Jose Ortiz will compensate for the loss 
of forward A. С. Green. Another sig- 
nificant addition is freshman guard Van 
Anderson. The Beavers will, for a change, 
include a large contingent of seniors this 
season. Maturity and leadership give them 
the inside track in the Pac 10 title race. 

UCLA's Bruins could be fiercer this 
year—even with the loss of three start- 
ers—because the returnees are now fa- 
miliar with second-year coach Walt 
Hazzard's Wooden-style philosophy. The 
outside shooting of Reggie Miller and 
Montel Hatcher will be something to see, 


PLAYBOY 


242 


and freshman point guard Jerome Rich- 
ardson will make a major contribution 
right away. 

Washington lost only one starter, Detlef 
Schrempf, but Schrempf was the Huskies’ 
bellwether the past two seasons. He'll be 
impossible to replace. Perhaps an even 
bigger problem is the absence of a top- 
grade point guard. The answer could lie in 
junior college transfer Greg Hill. Another 
transfer, Phil Zevenbergen, will bring 
much-needed power to the front line. 

Arizona, surprisingly strong last year, is 
weakened by the loss of five of its top six 
players. But coach Lute Olson is a master 
recruiter—his incoming class is crowded 
with potential superstars. Best of them are 
Sean Elliott (who will be one of America’s 
highest-scoring freshmen) and Eric Coo- 
per (who has the raw talent to become one 
of the nation’s best guards). 

Washington State, California and Stan- 
ford will all be dramatically improved. 
With a little luck, any of the three could be 
this year's Cinderella team. 

Washington State’s success will hinge 
on the contributions of two blue chippers 
who retum after a year out with injuries— 
Chris Winkler and John Hodges. Transfer 
Duayne Scholten could earn a starting job 
by Christmas. 

Lou Campanelli, California’s new 
coach, has walked into a seemingly ideal 
situation. Cal’s graduation losses were 
minimal, and the best Bear, Dave Butler, 
returns after a year’s injury leave. Transfer 
Jon Wheeler's deadly accurate jump shot 
will also help Campanelli enjoy his first 
year at the helm. 

Stanford finished dead last in the con- 
ference last year, but the Cardinals will be 
dramatically improved, thanks to added 
experience and the arrival of prime re- 
cruits guard Todd Lichti and center How- 
ard Wright. Although four starters return, 
the talent store at Stanford is so full that 
all five starting slots may feature new 
faces. 

Arizona State's main objective will be to 
develop consistency. Last season's Sun 
Devils played like league champs in one 
game and fell on their collective face the 
next. They need a dominating big man 
under the glass, but there appears to be no 
such thing in Tempe this year. 

Southern California was the sleeper of 
the Pac 10 last year, rising from nowhere 
to the conference cochampionship іп а віп- 
gle season. Those giddy days are already 
over. The four Trojans most responsible 
for last year's success arc out of eligibility. 
Their replacements will be a corps of 
freshmen and transfers, and lack of experi- 
ence will be USC's problem. New center 
Ivan “the Belgian Bounder” Verberckt 
will make a sizable contribution. 

Oregon's Ducks face a long season. 
Sophomore guard Anthony Taylor is their 
only bona fide star. Two newcomers, 
Thomas Deuster and Jimmy Winston, will 
provide a valuable infusion of talent, but. 
Oregon is still a player or two short. 


With four starters and most of the bench 
coming back, New Mexico stands ready to 
take W.A.C. laurels. Add sharpshooting 
transfer guard Kelly Graves and the 
Lobos have everything. Forward Johnny 
Brown, the team's sole senior, will be its 
leader and best player. 

"Texas-El Paso's fortunes will depend 
largely on the leadership of forward Juden 
Smith and center Dave Feitl. The Miners 
lost three of last year's starters, including 
both guards. If the backcourt reserves 
come through, this could be another 
championship year for UTEP. 

San Diego State can again point with 
pride to Anthony Watson, one of the land's 


THE FAR WEST 


PACIFIC TEN 


1. Oregon State 6. California 

2. UCLA 7. Stanford 

3. Washington 8. Arizona State 

4. Arizona 9. Southern California 
5. Washington State 10. Oregon 

WESTERN ATHLETIC CONFERENCE 


. New Mexico 6. Colorado State 
. Texas-El Paso. 7. Brigham Young 
. San Diego State 8. Air Force 
Wyoming 9. Нанай 
Utah 


PACIFIC COAST ASSOCIATION 


Nevada-Las Vegas б. San Jose State 
Fresno State 7. Fullerton State 
. Utah State 8. Pacific 
. Santa Barbara 9. New Mexico State 
j. Irvine 10. Long Beach State 
WEST COAST CONFERENCE 
. Pepperdine 5. Loyola Marymount 
6. Portland 


7. Gonzaga 
8. San Francisco 


.. San Diego 
Santa Clara 
St. Mary's 


BEST WESTERNERS: Woodside (Oregon State); 
Miller, Hatcher (UCLA); Welp (Washington); El- 
liott (Arizona); Morrison (Washington State); 
Taylor (California); Brown (Stanford); Beck 
(Arizona State); Dowell (Southern California); 
Taylor (Oregon); Brown (New Nexico); Smith, 
Кеш (Texas-El Paso) Watson (San Diego 
State); Dembo (Wyoming); Hendrix (Utah); 
Strong (Colorado State); Pollard (Brigham 
Young); McDonald (Nr Force); Morgan 
(Hawaii); Jones (Nevada-Las Vegas); Kuipers 
(Fresno State); Grant (Utah State); Fisher 
(Santa Barbara), Murphy, Rogers (Irvine); 
‘Owens (San Jose State); Henderson (Fullerton 
State); Rosario (Pacific), Wilburn (New Mexico 
State); Langston (Long Beach State); Polee, 
White (Pepperdine); Thompson (San Diego); 
Kenilvort (Santa Clara); Robertson (St. 
Mary's); Smith (Loyola Marymount); Harris 
(Portland); Condill (Gonzaga); McCathrion (San 
Francisco). 


best guards. Watson won't have as much 
help as he had last year, though. Gradua- 
tion obliterated SD State's front line. 
Transfer Steffond Johnson could be a big 
help under the basket, pulling down Wat- 
son's few mishres. 

Last year, Wyoming started three— 
sometimes even four—freshmen. A year's 
seasoning will make a notable difference. 
The best of Wyoming's returnees is Fennis 
Dembo, the top freshman in the W.A.C. 
last season. 

Utah welcomes back all of last year's 


top contributors, including eight of its top. 
nine scorers. Rookie center Dino Rada 
(from Split, Yugoslavia) will bring much- 
needed size to the inside game. 

Colorado State's loss of two key front- 
court players will force a change of style— 
now the tempo is going to pick up. Rich 
Strong will be the mainstay under the bas- 
ket, but he'll need some help from fresh- 
man Todd Graf. 

Brigham Young is always a tough team. 
10 figure in advance, duc to the frequent 
departures and arrivals of players on 
church missions. Five of last season's top. 
eight players are missing this time around, 
but three recruits—Averian Parrish, 
Brent Stephenson and Greg Humphreys— 
have the talent to fill some of the voids. 

Air Force's main weakness will again be 
a lack of altitude. It's hard to fit a 6'11” 
slam-dunker into the cockpit of a jet 
fighter, you know. The Falcons make up 
for their liability with speed, smarts and 
scrappiness. Three starters return, includ- 
ing scoring ace Maurice McDonald. 

Hawaii's new coach, Frank Arnold, 
inherits a depleted squad. The only 
significantly talented returnee hc has is 
guard Andre Morgan. There will be ten 
new faces on the Rainbow squad—four of 
them could be immediate starters. 

Nevada-Las Vegas has a guard con 
gent with enviable depth and al 
Guard Anthony Jones was awe-inspiring 
at the end of last season. Trying to keep up 
with Jones will be transfer Jarvis 
Basnight. 

Fresno State will be short on experi- 
єпсє, but its youthful roster boasts a boun- 
tiful harvest of recruits. The most 
promising of the new guys are forwards 
Mike Mitchell and Jervis Cole. 

Utah State will again be built around 
forward Greg Grant, who will take over as 
the Aggies’ all-time leading scorer this 
winter When freshman center Danny 
Conway breaks into the starting line-up, 
this year’s will be the biggest, strongest 
Aggic team in recent memory. 

With no graduation losses, Santa Bar- 
bara should be vastly improved. Add four 
quality redshirts and freshman point 
guard Carlton Davenport and the Gau- 
chos have the makings of a contender for 
the Pacific Coast Association champion- 
ship. 

Irvine will also be much stronger. Last 
year, the Anteaters had a potent offense, 
but on defense they were worthless, The 
backcourt will be transfers JoJo Buchanan 
and Mike Hess. Both should be starting by 
January. 

Most of San Jose State’s best talents re- 
turn, but there will be a severe—possibly 
crippling—shortage at center. Transfer 
Ricky Berry, son of Spartan coach Bill 
Berry, could become Dad's dominant 
player in his first year. 

Fullerton State's big woe last season 
was under-the-basket play that was worse 
than mediocre. That problem ought to be 


eliminated this winter by hefty transfer 
Ron Barnes. Another transfer, Maurice 
Smith, could also win a starting berth in 
the front line. 

Pacific, New Mexico State and Long 
Beach State will all be improved, but all 
three have a long way to go before threat 
ening the conference leaders. Pacific had 
no graduation losses, and last year's fabu- 
lous freshmen (including talented forward 
Domingo Rosario) will be even better as 
sophs. New Mexico State's improvement 
will come with the arrival of new coach 
Neil McCarthy, a disciplinarian who 
doesn't take losses lightly. Long Beach 
State benefits from a glittering array of 
recruits, four of whom will probably be 
starters. 

Pepperdine will continue its long domi- 
nance of the West Coast Conference. All of 
last year's first-stringers return, including 
superguard Dwayne Polee. Polee and high- 
scoring redshirt Grant Gondrezick make 
up the daunting backcourt. The key new- 
comer is transfer center Mike Burns. 

San Diego will be the best of the rest. 
The pivotal holdover will be seven-foot, 
260-pound center Scott Thompson; among 
the newcomers is transfer Jim Pelton. 

Santa Clara must rebuild after the 
departure of three of last year’s starters, 
including two All-Conference performers. 
Prime freshmen Mitch Burley and Jens- 
Uwe Gordon will see a lot of play. 

St. Mary’s will be dominated by new 
faces. In fact, there will be more freshmen 
on the squad than sophomores, juniors 
and seniors combined. Keep an eye on 
freshman forwards Robert Haugen and 
Curtis Williams. 

Loyola Marymount escaped the inroads 
of graduation, but the Lions will still have 
a tough time overcoming the coaching tur- 
moil of recent months (two new coaches 
since the end of last season). When the 
dust settles and the front office gets organ- 
ized, this could be a fine team. 

Portland returns four starters, joined by 
promising front-court recruits Rich Antee 
and Jarvis Helaire. Cracking the .500 
mark will be a tall order nevertheless. 

Dan Fitzgerald returns as Gonzaga's 
coach after a four-year absence. His best 
bets for rebuilding a depleted front line 
will be rookie forwards Jim McPhee and 
Steve Fedler. 

San Francisco returns to intercollegiate 
basketball after dropping out a few years 
back in the aftermath of a scandal caused 
by under-the-table payoffs by outsiders. 
Let’s hope the bird-brained sports gam- 
blers in the Bay Arca move to Calaveras 
County and take up competitive frog 
jumping. For them, it might be intellectu- 
ally stimulating. Freshman forward Mark 
McCathrion will be the Dons’ star this 
year, but he’s no Bill Russell or even 
Quintin Dailey. It’s good to see the Dons 
playing ball again, anyway. 


M yai like the latest copy ol this ite newspaper, drop us а line. 


THE MOORE COUNTY NEWS can be read 
in five minutes. That’s all it takes to keep up with 
Moore County. 


Occasionally, you'll see an article on Jack Daniel's 
Distillery. Like when Jack Bateman broke his arm 
unloading wood in the rickyard. Or when Frank 
Bobo (our head distiller) had his grandson born. 
But normally we don't make 
the paper much. You see, 
we've been charcoal mellowi: 
whiskey here at Jack Daniel's 
since 1866. And according to 
the editor, there's no news іп 
that anymore. 


WHISKEY 
8090 Proo itil Вей 
By Jach Danel Dite 
Lem Moto. Prop. In 
Mz Tennessee 

(Pop 361) 37352 


з= ==) 


CHARCOAL MELLOWED DROP BY DROP 


243 


PLAYBOY 


WHAT'S THE DEAL? (гг from page 156) 


“The key to good food is grease. Grease got us 
through the Depression; grease is coming back.” 


we should take a tough stand on food, 
what I have in mind is murder. If each 
food eater in the United States went out 
and killed one precious chef, it would be a 
start toward correcting the problem. Pre- 
cious chefs are multiplying quicker than 
exotic relatives of the mustard family, 

There would still be thousands of pre- 
cious chefs around, but they might get the 
idea that food caters were serious about 
retaliation and go back to their old, fa- 
miliar pleasures: mounting campaigns 
against smokers in San Francisco, design- 
ing clothes that don’t fit anyone who 
weighs more than 98 pounds, selling new 
draperies and Victorian chairs to people 
who don’t need them and keeping the 
Broadway musical in a state of tuneless, 
pretentious incoherence. 

These pursuits used to be enough to 
keep the precious people occupied. Of 
course, this was before they came out of 
the closet, which is where they were 
happiest—and so were we. Out of the 
closet, however, they’ve grown restless. 
They've obviously decided to devote their 
energies to making all food look like 
Monet’s lilies. It’s not entirely coinciden- 
tal that the gay-rights movement started 
about the same time as the public’s unwit- 
ting acceptance of green pasta, arugula, 
anchovy paste and blood orange, the 
"connoisscur's citrus.” [twas during those 
lurid days that I happened to gag on a 
piece of zucchini that some precious chef 
had cleverly disguised as a French fry. 

“What the fuck was that?” I said, spit- 
ting on the floor of a homey Manhattan 
hangout that a Texas friend insists on 


referring to as “Ilene’s.”” 

"Zucchini," somebody said, smiling 
and rcaching for a zucchini. 

"It looks like a French fry.” 

“It's summer squash.” 

“You’re shitting me.” 

The nearest disinfectant was my glass of 
J&B. I poured it down my neck. Moments 
later, I sampled the platter of onion rings. 

“Jesus Christ!” 1 blurted out, trying to 
swallow. “What happened to the onion 
rings?” 

“This is calamary,” I was informed by 
the adventuress who had ordered it. 

“Who... 2” 

“Squid.” 

I stared at the woman incredulously. 
Two friends at the table noticed the look 
оп my face and began digging foxholes. 


“Squid . .. 2” 

“Try some; it's good.” 

“Squid?” I said again, glaring. “Like in 
octopus squid? Like that thing it took John 


Wayne and Ray Milland an hour to kill 
in Reap the Wild Wind?” 

“It’s not the same thing.” 

“The fuckers eat submarines!” 

I looked around the table. Two of my 
companions were motioning for the check. 
The others sank deeper into their chairs. 

“That's it for fags,” I said. “I mean, 
fuck it. They've got Broadway. They've 
got half of Hollywood. They've got books, 
museums, fashion. They've got furniture. 
What is it, antiques don't keep "em busy? 
Now they want French fries and onion 
rings? They’re gonna take squash and squid 
and make "em look like my French fries 
and onion rings? I’m gonna go chip all 


BS m 


EVERY THING 
MUST. 
Go) 
m 


their fucking antique vases." 

In the next breath, Pm afraid ] un- 
leashed a dialog. 

“What are your plans, Colin—after we 
come out of the closet, I mean? ‘I'm not 
sure, Randall. Гуе been giving some 
thought to food." “In what sense? "Oh, just 
various ways to fuck it up, generally." 
¡ke fun. With mousse alone, the 
ies are limitless “Actually, Гуе 
been thinking a lot about colors. Yellow, 
orange, green, mauve—a few mottled 
tones, perhaps.’ "With food, you mean?" 
“Yes.” ‘Now that you mention it, food has 
never, never kept pace with the four-color 
process of magazine printing.’ ‘Well, one 
of the problems, of course, is that it comes 
in so many odd shapes. If food could be 
confined to stringy little things or small 
ovals, let's say, preferably those with a 
soft, creamy texture, there wouldn't be 
any real need to change it. Veggies, for 
instance—they should all have a green 
skin and a yellowy flesh.’ ‘Heaven, Colin. 
Absolute heaven! Do you know, can you 
imagine how many people we can piss off if 
we really get heavy into food? " 

I suppose my eyes were ablaze as I then 
said in my own voice, “Yeah, I know one, 
you tender-crisp, goat-cheese, zucchini- 
squid, no-smoking assholes!” 

А woman idly said, “I didn’t know you 
did drugs.” 

“I don't do that shit!” I snapped. “Т 
hate that shit! This is me talking—a food 
guy! A guy who doesn’t drink skim milk 
and wear those fucking Everlast weights 
around his ankles when he goes to the deli, 
all right? Let me tell you about food. Food 
is brown and white and not crinkly. OK, 
it's orange sometimes—if it’s cheese. 
Maybe maroon—if it’s pinto beans. ГЇЇ 
give you two kinds of green. Lettuce 
green—and none of that Bibb or romaine 
shit—and dark green for green beans, 
which you cook in lard if vou don't have a 
ham bone or a slab of bacon around, Don’t 
get the white mixed up with cheese. You 
want Swiss cheese on a cheeseburger, go to 
the West Side! The only time cheese can be 
white is when it’s on a goddamn pizza! 
Food don't make noise, either. Like when 
you bite into some kind of vegetable that’s 
been steamed and you hear a crack, that’s 
bullshit! Only four kinds of food can make 
noise. A taco makes noise. A potato chip 
makes noise. Corn on the cob makes noise. 
And the lower half of an ice-cream cone 
makes noise. You want to gimme popcorn, 
don’t you? Wrong. Popcorn don’t make 
noise if it’s got enough butter on it. How 
do you get enough butter on it? You wring 
the Puerto Rican’s neck at Cinema I! The 
key to good food is grease. Grease got us 
through the Depression; grease is coming 
back. You know the first thing grease is 
gonna do? Go round up aspic and start 
kicking ass. That'll be some fucking blood 
bath, man, and I don’t want to miss it. 
Who needs a drink?" 

Nobody. I'd cleared the room. 

I'm sorry my friends didn't get to hear 


about the prison offenses. Precious chefs 
can do time for the following crimes. 
1. Putting sugar in corn bread. 
2. Putting tomatoes and/or kidney 
beans in cl 
3. Putting anchovies on anythin; 
4. Putting mushrooms on anythi 
5. Cooking fried chicken in corn-meal 
batter like it’s some kind of fucking fish 
6. Using seed buns for cheeseburgers. 
7. Not using enough salt and pepper 
on everything but Haagen-Dazs. 
8. Saying bad things about grease. 
9. Not frying bacon crispy-chewy. 
10. Not cooking eggs runny-hard. 
11. Not cooking meat well-done pink. 
12. Getting the spaghetti sauce too red. 
13. Leaving too much open space on the 
plate. 
14. Leaving strangers in the chicken and 
dumplings. 
15. Pushing mousse. 
16. Serving tomatoes that have cancer 
in the center. 
17. Not having cold-meat-loaf sand- 
wiches on hand at all times. 
18. Trying to “liven up” tuna fish. 
19. Sneering at black-eyed peas. 
20. Putting sweet sauce оп any meat. 
21. Fat omelets. 
sour cream on enchiladas. 
23, Calling it barbecue if it don’t come 


. Fucking around with aspic. 

25. Making any dessert that's not straw- 
berry shortcake or peach cobbler. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t comment 
оп some foods of the world. Here's all you 
need to know. 


MEXICAN FOOD 


Tex-Mex is the only kind thats unpre- 
cious or any good. And the only place 
where they know how to do it right, out- 
side of Texas, is a place called Juanita's, in 
New York City, which my wife happens to 
own. Everything else sucks, ейһег stupidly 
or preciously. 


CHINESE FOOD 


That pork stuff you roll up in a leaf of 
straight lettuce is OK, but the rest is shoe- 
laces and sweet-and-sour coat buttons. 


JAPANESE FOOD 


Some guy throws knives into the air and 
a raw thing crawls through your bean 
sprouts. 


INDIAN FOOD 

Curry will make your armpits glow, but 
you can deal with the minced lamb on a 
stick and the white beans you spread on 


the 


FRENCH FOOD 


Omelets, soup, French fries, bread. 
Otherwise, you're looking at a fat duck or 
a purécd rabbit. 


ITALIAN FOOD 


Ifyou haven't been to Italy, you haven't 


eaten it. All we know how to do in this 
country is bury noodles under a pile of red 
shit. 


"CALIFORNIA CUISINE" 


1I just have a little dish of feijoas with 
some fern on the side, and perhaps a tiny 
glass of babaco. And get me out of here 
early, vou fucking swine, so I can go get 
something to eat. 

. 

There's only one more thing you need to 
know about food. That's how to fix a good 
cheeseburger, which is what you're mostly 
going to eat, anyhow. 

First, don't charcoal-broil the meat, not 
unless you want it to taste like charcoal 
and be reminded of your neighbor's back 
yard in the late Fifties. 

You cook the meat in a skillet filled with 
grease. This is after you've chopped up 
onions and mashed them into the meat 
and showered the meat with enough salt 
and pepper. 


While the meat’s sizzling in the deli- 
cious grease, you prepare the lower halfof 
the seedless bun. You put mustard and 
mayonnaise on it, then dill chips, some 
straight lettuce and a slice of tomato that 
doesn’t have a malignancy in the center. 

Finally, just before you take out the 
meat, you put double cheese (orange, 
American) on it and sit the top of the bun 
on the cheese. You wait a couple of mi 
utes for the cheese to melt slightly, mash- 
ing grease into the top of the bun with the 
spatula. If you've done it right, all kinds of 
juice will run down your wrist when you 
bite into the cheeseburger. 

Allin all, I guess you get the idea that I 
don't go for that myth about how you can’t 
be too rich or too thin. Precious people fall 
for that shit, not me. The line that suits me 
better is that one in the song about the 
perfect Englishman: The food I don’t eat, 
I wear. 

And that's your basic deal on food. 


“The Duke of Barclay and a well-known porn star!” 


245 


246 


PLAYBOY POTPOURRI 


people, places, objects and events of interest or amusement 


WEATHERING THE WINTER 


It's not even as large as Willard Scott's toupee, 
yet the pocket-sized, battery-powered Ultimeter 
will do everything NBC's weather maven does— 
and probably just as accurately. At the press of a 
button, the Ultimeter displays indoor/outdoor 
temperatures, wind speed and direction, rainfall 
totals, barometric pressure and much more. And 
for what you get, its price of $489, postpaid, sent 
to Peet Bros. Company, P.O. Box 2007, Ocean, 
New Jersey 07712, isn’t a big financial chill factor. 


SAVE IT AGAIN, SAM 


Drop a coin into the Musical Bogey Bank and lis- 
ten and look on as the bank plays As Time Goes 
By, Bogey winks, lights flash and the coin is auto- 
matically stacked. All this for only $14.90, post- 
paid, sent to Mag-Nif, Inc., 8820 East Avenue, 
Mentor, Ohio 44060. (Sears and Penney's cata- 
logs offer the bank, too.) For $9.90, Mag-Nif also 
sells a Chippendale's male-stripper bank that will 
have the ladies saving money hand over fist. 


HAVE FIREPLACE, WILL TRAVEL 


There are two kinds of people in the world: those who have a cozy 
fireside hearth to come home to and those who wish they did, To 
satisfy the latter flame seekers, Aladdin Enterprise Products, Inc., 
has magically created the Ember Brite Portable Fireplace, the 
ventless, smokeless metal unit pictured. Ember Brites operate on 
canned fuel, and for the $159.95 price, you also get logs, lava rock 
and a fireplace tool. Hardware and home-center stores carry it, or 
write to Aladdin Enterprise Products, Inc., 301 South Perimeter 
Park Drive, Suite 201, Nashville, Tennessee 37211 


STAR QUALITY 


Lana Turner may have 
been discovered in 
Schwab's Drug Store, 
but Starkives’ Star 
Quest—a new compu- 
terized talent-search 
firm that puts informa- 
tion, from hair color to 
professional credits, on 
electronic file—is an 
easier way to break into 
showbiz. Star Quest 
allows aspiring actors, 
actresses, models, come- 
dians et al. to put photos 
or even a 30-second 
video or audio onto laser 
discs that will be dis- 
played on the computer 
terminals of biggies in 
the entertainment/com- 
munications world. 
PLAYBOY is plugged into 
Star Quest. For $150, 
you should put yourself 
on the list. Write to 
Starkives, 41 East 42nd 
Street, New York 10017, 
for an application. See 
you in the movies. 


POWER JACKET 


Regardie's, that business magazine found 
оп the coffee tables of movers and shakers 
across the land, is offering what surely 
must be the ultimate in jacket chic. It's a 
slick silver-and-black model embroidered 
across the back with a MONEY, POWER & 
GREED logo that tells everyone in your 
wake just what your priorities are. The 
price: $150 sent to Regardie’s, 1010 Wis- 
consin Avenue, N.W., Washington, D.C. 
20007. (Small to extra large.) Flaunt it. 


BONDED BEAUTY! 


The Girls of James Bond calendar for 
1986 is just what you'd expect it to be—a 
dozen tough, taut ladies in full color, 
waiting to turn you on or karate chop you 
into submission quicker than you can say 
SMERSH. Stoller Publications, 8306 
Wilshire Boulevard, Suite 709, Beverly 
Hills, California 90211, sells the Girls of 
James Bond calendar for $9.95, postpaid 
And someday it will probably be worth 
more as a collectible than you paid for it. 


STROLL DOWN 
MAMMARY LANE 


To keep abreast of the times in 
1986, Prodeco, a company at P.O. 
Box 82778, Kenmore, Washington 
98028, is selling a $21.95 chrome- 
look wall calendar measuring 
11A" x 17%” that's a shining 
testimonial to the female torso. If 
you prefer your ladies with milky- 
white boobs, Prodeco also has 
all-white calendars for $14.95, 
postpaid. (We definitely favor the 
chrome version.) Did someone 
serve as the model for this uplift- 
ing endeavor, you ask? The com- 
pany isn’t talking, but there sure 
are a lotof guys working at 
Prodeco who walk around with 
silly smiles on their faces. 


LIQUID PLEASURE 


Liquid neon is like nothing you've 
ever seen: Vivid colors sweep 
through the tubes, stop and then 
repeat the sweeping action. And 
the shapes available—everything 
from the champagne bottle shown 
to a Christmas tree, a rainbow 
and even a table lamp—are avail- 
able from Mail Order Products 
Bureau, Raleighwest Executive 
Building, 6443 S.W. Beaverton 
Highway, Suite 406, Portland, 
Oregon 97221. Each is $210, post- 
paid. A brochure that depicts 
each of the various designs costs a 
buck. And when you're tired of 
the sweeping action, liquid-ncon 
sculptures also flash or stay on 
permanently. What fun! 


1 
1718192091 IHE 
9495969798 | 


FEBRUARY 1986 
He -E 


MOZART TO GO 


Ready for a little more than 
night music? The Portable 
Mozart (Time-Life Music, 
$185, postpaid, including a 
portable cassette player; 
800-621-7026) is 16 cassettes in 
а carrying case that let you 
have the essential work оГ 
cverybody's favorite classical 
composer. The collection con- 
sists of music from PolyGram's 
catalog ard includes piano 
concertos, Mozart's best- 
known symphonies, serenades, 
sonatas and string quartets 
"The collection ends with his 
unfinished Requiem. Hail, hail, 
the Wolfgang's all here. 


247 


BETTINA CIRONE 


MICHAEL LEVINE / PUBLIC RELATIONS 


guum = Loss 


Actress MELISSA PROPHET co-stars in the recent 
Chuck Norris epic Invasion U.S.A. She has won a 
number of beauty-contest titles, including runner- 
up in the Miss World Contest. In Invasion, she 
plays a photographer looking for a hot story. We 
think Melissa’s the hot story. 


Reviving a Dead Salesman 


Did you think serious actors were serious people? Here’s exhibit A to the con- 
trary. When it’s time to clown around, actors do. DUSTIN HOFFMAN shows 
you how with the help of KATHY ROSSETTER (left) and ANNE MCINTOSH 
(right, two of his co-stars in last fall's TV production of Death of a Salesman. 
Fashion hint: Gloves are making a big comeback! 


Hot Crossed Buns 


That hair! Those legs! That voice! TINA is 
everywhere. From the Grammys to 
Live Aid to sold-out concerts 

to Mad Max, sexy is back, 

and Tina’s got it. Take 

a bow, Tina. 


Frets? No Sweat! 


There's the irrepressible RICK NIEL- 
SEN of Cheap Trick yukking it up for 
the camera. The band's tenth album, 
Standing on the Edge, was not named 
frivolously. Their U.S. tour ends over 
the holidays, then they'll take this act 
оп the international road, where we 
hear the puppet has groupies, too. 


2 
+ 
© 
= 
е 


Wiping the 
Smile Off 
His Face 


Face it: The guy will do 
anything for a laugh. 
He’s got a thousand 
props and a winning 
delivery and has lived 
through a Joan Rivers 
interview. HOWIE 
MANDEL is funny. He's 
also a good actor, as 
you know if you watch 
St Elsewhere. Would 
we let him into a real 
hospital? Only as a pa- $ 
tient. Say ahhhh. 


If You Knew Suzee 


We're not going to lie. The first thing 
that caught our eye was not SUZEE 
SLATER'S list of acting credits. After 
staring at her for a while, we remem- 
bered seeing her on TV's Mickey 
Spillane's Mike Hammer and on the 
big screenin Savage Streets and Sum- 
mer Fantasy. Now that we've re- 
freshed your memory, you'll be 
looking for Suzee, too. 


© 1985 ROSS MARINO. 


MARK LEIVOAL 


And This 15 for 

the Entire Crúe 

TOMMY LEE is the drummer for 
Motley Crúe. Theater of Pain is the 
name of the Crüe's recent chart- 
buster. Tommy's the kind of guy 
who keeps very little under 
wraps. Being zany is the 


heart and soul of rock 'n' / / 
roll. In this instance, g 2 

it's also the breast г?» 

and ravel. - 


250 


NEXT MONTH 


EMERALD ZONE 


ALASKAN BEAUTIES PROFOUND SKIN 


“ANOTHER SIDE OF RAPE"—SOME 15 YEARS AGO, 
THE AUTHOR'S GIRLFRIEND WAS RAPED AS HE 
WATCHED, HELPLESS. HE'S STILL TRYING TO COME TO 


TERMS WITH HIS FEELINGS—BY RANSOM SATCHELL 


“WOMEN OF ALASKA” —JOURNEY WITH US ON A PIC- 
TORIAL VISIT TO THE 49TH STATE, WHERE WE'VE 
UNWRAPPED SOME BEAUTIES TO KEEP YOU COMING 


IN FROM THE COLD 


“FIRE ZONE EMERALD”—A TAUT STORY ABOUT A 
PAIR OF PROFESSIONAL SOLDIERS WHO ARE OUT 
FOR EACH OTHER'S BLOOD IN THE JUNGLE—BY 


LUCIUS SHEPARD 


“A DISH SERVED COLD”-—TALKING REVENGE WITH 
SOME MASTERS OF THE ART. EVEN RAMBO COULD 


PICK UP SOME TRICKS HERE—BY JIM HARRISON 


SEX YEAR 


“THE YEAR IN SEX”—A REPRISE OF WHAT WENT ON 
(AND OFF), EROTICALLY SPEAKING, IN 1985 


“SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLES OF THE PARTY TAPE”—BIG 
BASH COMING UP? HERE'S HOW TO MAKE THE MUSIC 
PERFECT—BY CHARLES M. YOUNG 


“WHAT WOMEN TALK ABOUT WHEN THEY TALK 
ABOUT MEN"—JUST WHAT YOU WERE AFRAID OF: 
BODY PARTS, UNDERWEAR, MONEY AND SIZE—BY 
SUSAN SQUIRE 


PLUS: AN ACTION-PACKED PLAYBOY INTERVIEW WITH 
MICHAEL DOUGLAS; A PROFILE OF JOHN COUGAR 
MELLENCAMP BY E. JEAN CARROLL; “YOUR MOST 
PROFOUND SKIN," A SHORT-SHORT STORY BY JULIO 
CORTAZAR; "20 QUESTIONS" WITH PRIVATE EYE 
ANTHONY PELLICANO; AND MUCH, MUCH MORE 


COMING IN THE MONTHS AHEAD: NEWS-MAKING PLAYBOY INTERVIEWS WITH ARTHUR C. CLARKE, JACKIE 
GLEASON AND SALLY FIELD; PICTORIAL UNCOVERAGE OF VICTORIA SELLERS, THE BREATH-TAKING DAUGHTER 
OF BRITT EKLAND AND PETER SELLERS; FICTION BY GEORGE V. HIGGINS AND ROBERT SILVERBERG; “DIS- 
ТАҒҒ DEEJAYS"; "PLAYBOY GUIDE: THE BEST OF EVERYTHING"; “THE HEART OF ROBERT JARVIK," BY 
LAURENCE GONZALES; AND AN INCREDIBLY EROTIC VISUAL VISIT TO VENICE, A PARADISE FOR LOVERS. 


The Spirit of America 


Across the land, as families gather, a spirit of 
brotherhood and good will unites the nation. Old Grand-Dad 
toasts that tradition of fellowship and warmth with America’s 

native whiskey: Kentucky Bourbon. It’s the Bourbon 
we still make much as we did 100 years ago. 
It’s the spirit of America. 


Fora 19"x26" print of Bringing Home The Tree, send a check 
or money order for $4.95 to Spirit of America offer, P.O. Box 183B, 
Carle Place, N.Y. 11514. 


Old Grand-Dad 


Nostaig Sri Den Wei DG Pra. ( Grd Dd Dey Ca, rr KY © 1984 Ratna Dir, с. 


THE NEW NISSAN 300 ZX 
PACE CAR FOR THE 


PERFORMANCE GENERATION. 


Very few automobiles in the world have gen- 
erated the excitement and emotional involvement 
associated with the Z-car. Keeping this in mind, its 
not surprising to read that Motor Trend Magazine 
called the 300 ZX, “the best all-around Z-car 
ever built.” 

For 1986, Nissan has taken one more step in the 
thoughtful evolution of a classic. 

At the heart of this Z is a 3-liter V-6 that is actually 
eight inches shorter and 15 percent lighter than the 
280 ZX. Yet the turbo model puts out 11% more 
power; a rousing 200 horsepower. That power gets 
to the road by way of an electronic control system 
that gives you the most efficient transmission of 
powerat any speed. Combined with shocks you 
adjust electronically from the cockpit, the result 
isstartling. 


BELT YOURSELF @ 


In addition, an electronic monitoring system 
keeps track of spark plugs that fire 42 times a 
second at 5000 RPM and a micro computer controls 
the fuel injection system making the Z a marvel of 
functional electronic wizardry. 

Outside, fender flares, housing wider tires, were 
integrated into the body. The air dam was extended 
and rocker panel extensions were added to reduce 
air turbulence under the car. All this, plus a wider 
track results in better handling than ever. 

Inside, a choice of electronic or analog instrumen- 
tation is offered, along with every conceivable 
luxury, including a resounding 80-watt, 6-speaker 
stereo system. 

The 300 ZX, turbo or fuel injected. Once you get 
inside а 2, а 2 will get inside of you. 


THE NAME IS 


MISSAN