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NEED A LAUCH to kick start your summer? We have more than a 
few. Contributing Editor David Rensin chased down Tom and 
Roseanne Arnold at their farm in Iowa and, while their famous 
meatloaf was baking, got them to open up in this month's 
Playboy Interview on the condition that we not censor them. 
Like we actually would. Read about the chaotic, cutthroat 
world of showbiz and how you can be screwed up, rich and 
powerful and still have a really good time. Lewis Grossberger's 
satire Cash and Commies (illustrated by Arnold Roth) imagines 
the humorous possibilities when Peace Corps volunteers hit 
the Russian steppes to teach our former enemies the high- 
finance maneuvers that made guys such as Mike Milken fa- 
mous. Speaking of old enemies, Bruce M«Coll's Golf Carts of the 
Third Reich takes you back to the 1938 Albert Speer Pro-Am 
Invitational, when World War Two interrupted the Führer's 
best plans. 

Enough of the fun, on to the games. Who has his finger on 
the pulse of America's free time? Hiroshi Yamauchi. He's the 
head of Nintendo and the man who hooked us all on Game 
Boy. Contributing Editor David Sheff profiles this enigmatic 
and incredibly successful executive (his company has earned 
more than $1 billion in profits) in Game Master. For more, get 
Sheff's book on Nintendo, Game Over (Random House). 

Grunge is now mainstream enough to make the fashion 
pages and the evening news, but the Seattle-based correspon- 
dent for The New York. Times, Timothy Egan, tells us in The Flan- 
nel Revolution that long before Nirvana and Northern Exposure, 
the Pacific Northwest was home to esoteric coffee worship, 
salmon and enough eccentrics to fill the Space Needle. 

One of the hot political issues of the year has been whether 
gays should serve in the military. Combat vet, author of the ac- 
claimed Brothers in Arms and the man who brought us the TV 
show China Beach, William Broyles, Jr., recons this thorny issue in 
Of Lust and Arms (illustrated by David Wilcox). To see how all this 
might play out in fiction, Dan Simmons’ Death in Bangkok should 
give you a shudder. It follows two American soldiers lured by 
the live sex shows who go to Bangkok for R&R. 

In 20 Questions, Rebecca De Momay muses on love, relation- 
ships and the way a man's pants fit. If you're musing on your 
own relationship during this most matrimonial of months. 
you may want to consider Contributing Editor Denis Boyles’ 
The Thinking Man's Guide to Marriage, illustrated by Polish 
artist Wiktor Sadowski, For the skinny, get Boyles’ collection of 
PLAYBOY pieces, The Modern Man's Guide to Modern Women, 
from HarperCollins. If you do get married in June, you had 
better look at Hot Stuff, our summer sportswear feature. for 
fashion tips. 

We have a big finale. You'll want to clean your glasses and 
adjust the reading light. It's Playmate of the Year time, and 
Anno Nicole Smith (formerly known to you as Vickie) walks away 
with the prizes and accolades in Guess Who?—produced by 
West Coast Editor Marilyn Grobowski and shot by Contributing 
Photographer Stephen Wayda. The lovely Ms. Smith, the Guess 
Jeans girl, was photographed on Bimini and at the old Jayne 
Mansfield mansion in Hollywood. If that isn't enough, 
Playboy TV's 30-minute drama, Eden, will begin in syndica- 
tion this month on the USA Cable Network. It’s a slightly 
tamer version than what you'll see in our pictorial, All About 
“Eden.” Do we have more? The June Playmate of the Month, 
Alesha Marie Oreskovich, is sure to be a strong contender for 
next year's Playmate of the Year. Matter of fact, all our Play- 
mates in 1993 are strong contenders. 


PLAYBILL 


GROSSBERGER 


BROYLES. 


244 
SIMMONS 


GRABOWSKI, WAYDA 

Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478). June 1993, volume 40, number 6. Published monthly by Playboy in national and regional editions. Playboy. 
680 North Lake Shore Drive. Chicago, Illinois 60611. Second-class postage paid at Chicago, Illinois and at additional mailing offices 
Canada Post Canadian Publications Mail Sales Product Agreement No. 56162. Subscriptions: in the U.S., $29.97 for 12 issues. Postmaster: 
Send address change to Playboy, PO. Box 2007, Harlan, lowa 51537-4007. Printed in U.S.A. 


'ADOWSKI 


PLAYBOY. 


vol. 40, no. 6 ішпе 1993 CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 


PLAYBILL 
DEAR PLAYBOY 


PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


MEN ASIA SEE EIE Hero adas . ASA BABER 40 
WOMEN E ККЕ Т ИИ CYNTHIA HEIMEL 42 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 45 Guess Who? 
THE PLAYBOY FORUM. 49 
REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK: 
THE SCANDAL AT RTC—opinion ROBERT SCHEER 57 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: ROSEANNE £ TOM ARNOLD—condid conversation 59 
DEATH IN BANGKOK—fiction ...DAN SIMMONS 76 
ALL ABOUT EDEN—pictorial............... 80 TENES 
THE THINKING MAN'S GUIDE TO MARRIAGE—artide. . . DENIS BOYIES ва 
HOT STUFF—fashion ? 2) HOLLIS WAYNE 88 
OF LUST AND ARMS—ariicle .. . +. WILLIAM BROYLES, JR. 94 
STRAIGHT-A STUNNER—ployboy's ploymate of the month 98 
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor ..... 110 
THE FLANNEL REVOLUTION—article ........................ TIMOTHY EGAN 112 TERRE 
GOLF CARTS OF THE THIRD REICH—humor .................. BRUCE MCCALL 117 
20 QUESTIONS: REBECCA DE МОВМАҮ......................... 120 
CASH AND COMMIES—satire.......................... LEWIS GROSSBERGER 122 
THE GAME MASTER—profile ... к ПАЛО ЕНЕГЕ 526) 
GUESS WHO?—playboy's playmote of the year „text by REG POTTERTON 130 
PLAYBOY ON THE SCENE 181 
COVER STORY 


You sow her on our March 1992 cover and found her on the centerfold two 
months loter. Guess who's back? ғілүвоү/5 1993 Playmate of the Year Anna 
Nicole Smith, enjoying sweet success. Our cover was produced by Paul Mar- 
ciono of Guess Jeans, siyled by Raymond Lee and photographed by Daniela 
Federici. Laurent for Jose Eber styled Anna's hoir опа Daniel Blanco for 
Cloutier did her mokeup. Our Rabbit sets his sights on a beautiful subject. 


PELDAT EBE OEN 


PLAYBOY 


HUGH M. HEFNER 
editor-in-chief 


ARTHUR KRETCHMER editorial director 
JONATHAN BLACK managing editor 
TOM STAEBLER art director 
GARY COLE photography director 
KEVIN BUCKLEY executive editor 


EDITORIAL 
JOHN Rezek editor; PETER MOORE 


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KERIG rorE managing director; BRUCE HANSEN, 
CHET SUSKI, LEN WILLIS senior directors; KRISTIN 
KORJENEK associate director: KELLY KORJENER ASSIS- 
tant director; ann SELL supervisor, heyline/ 
paste-up; PAUL CHAN, JOHN HOCH, RICKIE THOMAS 
ап assistants 


inthe USA. 


designed and manufac 


PHOTOGRAPHY 
MARILYN GRABOWSKI west Coast edilor; JEFF COHEN 
managing editor; LINDA KENNEY, ИМ LARSON, 
MICHAEL ANN SULLIVAN senior edilors; PATTY BEAU: 
DET assistant editor/entertainment; STEVE CONWAY 
associate pliologra her; DAVID CHAN, RICHARD FEG- 
LEV. ARNY FREVTAG, RICHARD 1701, DAVID MECEY, 
BYRON NEWMAN, POMPEO POSAR, STEPHEN WAYDA 
contributing photographers; SHELLEE WELLS stylist; 
тім HAWKINS librarian; ROBERT CAIRNS manager, 
siudio/lab 


MICHAEL PERLIS publisher 


PRODUCTION 
MARIA MANDIS director; RITA JOHNSON manager; 
JODY JURCETO, RICHARD QUARTAROLI. CARRIE LARUE 
HOCKNEY, TOM SIMONEK associate managers 


THE BEST FACE 


CIRCULATION 
BARBARA GUTMAN subscription circulation director; 
LARRY A. DJERF newsstand sales director; сїнрү 
RAKOWITZ communications director 


5 ADVERTISING 
PAUL TURCOTTE national sales director; SALES 


DIRECTORS: DON SCHULZ delroit, WENDY C. LEVY 


midwest, Jav BECKLEY new york, WILLIAM M. 


HILTON, JR. northwest, STEVE THOMPSON southwest 
В READER SERVICE 
% LINDA STROM, MIKE OSTROWSKI correspondents 
ADMINISTRATIVE 
ERIC SHROPSHIRE computer graphics systems direc- 


tor; EILEEN KENTedilonal services director; MARCIA 
TERRONES rights & permissions administrator 


PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES, INC. 
CHRISTIE HEFNER chairman, chief executive officer 


PLAYBOY'S 


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DEAR PLAYBOY 


ADDRESS DEAR PLAYBOY 
PLAYBOY MAGAZINE 
680 NORTH LAKE SHORE DRIVE 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611 
(OR FAX 312-440-5454 


ANNE RICE 

Thanks to rıayBoy and interviewer 
Digby Dichl for giving us insight into 
Anne Rice (Playboy Interview, March), a 
remarkable writer. Her work is akin to 
J-R.R. Tolkien's. Both writers lead us on 
a journey through the labyrinth of our 
inner selves, where the conscious and 
subconscious merge, where light a 
shadow are one. Reading this inte: 
Т realize that the author is as fascinating 
as her work. 


Floyd E. Jack 
Miami, Oklahoma 


While I adored Interview with the Vam- 
pure as well as her other novels, I take is- 
sue with Anne Rice on her love of vio- 
Тепсе as an art form. Rice says that 
violence used in the correct context can 
be great art, unlike the violence por- 
trayed on television. Well, if The Queen of 
the Damned is an example of what she’s 
talking about, I must say it’s the one 
work of hers I didn’t like. The body 
count was so high I thought the book 
should have been titled 50 Ways to Eat 
Your Lover. In the end the enormous vio- 
lence trivialized the story. 

Teri Barber 
Crownsville, Maryland 


I've been reading rLavnoy for five 
ycars and find your interview with Anne 
Rice to be the best ever. After you ac- 
quainted me with her, I bought Interview 
with the Vampire, а great work in its crotic, 
violent magnificence. 

Grant Miller 
Birmingham, Alabama 


I am one of those women who have 
masochistic rape fantasies and I am 
proud to say that Anne Rice's Beauty 
books helped me realize there is nothing 
wrong with me. 1 deeply admire and ар- 
preciate Rice for having the courage to 
write them. Her views on feminism and 
censorship reflect my own. I'm tired of 
feeling condemned and oppressed by 


women who presume to dictate how I 
should feel, what I should wear and 
what I should or should not fantasize 
about. Radical feminists such as Cath- 
arinc MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin 
only further subjugate the women they 
claim to be liberating. 

‘Thank you for a wonderful Playboy Im- 
terview. тїлүвоу doesn't exploit women. 
On the contrary, it liberates those of us 
to whom free expression is sacred, 

Аргу! Gill 
Pasadena, Texas 


I find Anne Rice's comments on the 
Mike Tyson rape case intriguing. She be- 
lieves Desiree Washington went to hi 
room expecting something “romantic” 
and “nice” to happen, “and what she got 
was unpleasant and nasty.” Poor Miki 
He's serving years in jail because his 
partner didn't like his technique. 
Ronald J. Rizzo 
Ellenton, Florida 


MIMI ROGERS 
I want to thank you for the March is- 
sue's pictorial on actress Mimi Rogers 
(Screaming Mimi!). For years Гуе been 
saying that she is an underrated and u 
derappreciated actress—and one grea 
looking woman. I rcad recently that she 
is 37. She looks great. Ninctcen-ycar-old 
Playmates arc fine, but it's good to scc a 
real woman on the pages of PLayboY. 
Marc Ryan 
Point Marion, Pennsylvania 


There is a new definition of the term 
woman of the Nineties, and her name is 
Mimi Rogers. Bright, attractive, selfa 
sured and not afraid to use the word 
penis. Thank you for this pictorial of a 
very interesting person. 

John Davidson 
Dallas, Texas 


Thanks for the profile and pictorial of 
Mimi Rogers. It was worth the wait. Гуе 
always considered Rogers one of the 


АД АНС) 


ЗООТ? НИ NIN 
TOYLNOD ЗИ 


"93 
m [ER 
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215 VdHLOOL DNINILIHAN 


WHITENING 
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PLAYBOY 


most talented actresses in Hollywood 
and the most beautiful woman Гуе ever 
seen. Writer Michael Angeli shows her 
to be intelligent, witty, classy, uninhibited 
and unafraid to speak her mind. Con- 
gratulations to photographer Michel 
Comte. The photos were masterpieces. 

Don White 

Clifton, New Jersey 


One cannot blame Michael Angeli for 
being dazzled by Mimi Rogers, but his 
analysis of her role in The Rapture defies 
reason. After saying that Mimi's charac- 
ter undergoes a “conversion to evangeli- 
cal Christianity" Angeli concludes that 
“an individual consumed by religious 
fervor would find it difficult to embrace 
such a role." Why would it be difficult for 
а religious nut to play a character who 
leaves her profligate ways behind, joins a 
cultlike movement that foresees dooms- 
day and, after losing her husband, kills 
her young daughter in the conviction 
that the family will soon be reunited in 
heaven? 

The Rapture approvingly presents its 
bizarre view of religious belief. Because 
such an outlook is contrary both to en- 
lightened modes of belief and pLsvaov's 
opposition to religious fundamentalism, 
I am startled to read such an uncritical 
reaction to the film by one of your writ- 
ers. Furthermore, Angeli misses an op- 
portunity to let readers know just what 
Rogers would have said if questioned 
more scarchingly about her thoughts on 
her role and the film's implications 

James D. Marsden 
Providence, Rhode Island 


WITH GOD AS THEIR CO-PILOT 

Joe Conason's article on Pat Robert- 
son and his Christian Coalition (With God 
as Their Co-pilot, pLavBoy, March) is very 
insightful. The thought of Robertson 
and his ilk running the country should 
send chills up the back of any fair-mind- 
ed, tolerant person. Robertson's Ameri- 
са bearsa strong resemblance to the aya- 
tollah's Iran. If Robertson had his way, 
PLAYBOY would be extinct. Perish the 
thought. 


Mark Naeser 
Jamestown, New York 


Conason's article should be required 
reading for all citizens of the United 
States who believe in the First and 
Fourth Amendment and their frcedom 
in general. It is frightening to know that 
a minority is taking over a major political 
party and from there plans to reshape 
the Constitution and the nation to mir- 
ror its own warped beliefs. 

Donald C. McMurry 
Edgewood, New Mexico 


Bravo and thank you to Joe Conason 
for With God as Their Co-pilol. As a person 
whose family is not Christian, the shrink- 


10 ing gap between church and state ap- 


palls me and leaves me wondering about 
the future. Will our children have the 
al to make informed religious choic- 
es? Articles such as this will help wake up 
Americans to the reality that our founda- 
tion of religious freedom is in jeopardy. 
When one faction gains enough power, 
woe to those who are "different." 

When will religion take down the bar- 
riers between people instead of building 
them? When will we learn that the doc- 
trines of one group of people cannot 
be the laws for a widely diverse country 
if that country is to remain democratic? 

Patricia Telesco 
Buffalo, New York 


KIMBERLY DONLEY 

The "duel" is over. Playmate of the 
Year 1993 should go to Miss March, 
Kimberly Donley. The photographs of 
her fencing in her pictorial (En Garde!) 
prove that she can handle herself during 
any tense moment. I'm glad to see there 
are still Playmates who were born in the 
Sixties. Eighteen- апа 19-year-olds are 


sweet, but 27- and 28-year-olds are di- 
vine. Since Kimberly was born in Auro- 
ra, Illinois, I think she should have been 
the dream girl for Garth іп Wayne's 
World. Um sure she is now the dream girl 
for every reader. She is for this one. 
Dave Sato 
‘Torrance, California 


LIBERTE, ÉGALITÉ, SEXUALITÉ. | 

Erica Jong's article Liberté, Égalité, Sex- 
ualité (PLAYBOY, March) lucidly shows 
that sex and sexually oriented expres- 
sion, far from being the source of 
women's oppression, may well promote 
and reflect women's freedom. As a cen- 
tral expression of human individuality 
and liberty, sexual expression tends to 
be most restricted in those societies least 
protective of human rights in general, 


including women’s rights. Conversely, 
sexual liberation is an essential aspect 
not only of what has been called wom- 
en's liberation but also of human liberty. 
Nadine Strossen 
President, ACLU 
New York, New York 


In writing about Henry Miller, Erica 
Jong makes several good points but 
then caves in to a defense of monogamy. 
Monogamy is not the type of relation- 
ship in which love can exist, unless your 
definition of love includes ownership. It 
is ridiculous to argue for the liberation 
of the individual and the individual’s 
divine sexuality and then argue that 
monogamy is part of that liberation. 
Jong has simply tried to construct a new 
rationale for the same old repression. 

Michael Ашух 
Tucson, Arizona 


I highly commend Erica Jong for writ- 
ing (and rLaysoy for publishing) Liberté, 
Égalité, Sexualité. Гуе not read а more in- 
sightful article about the American 
writer Henry Miller. Those who know 
Miller only as the author of the Tropic 
books miss the essence and scope of his 
work; they miss writing that becomes 
more alive and more true as time passes. 
Steven DaGama 
Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio 


A CLUB OF ONE'S OWN 
Asa regular customer of topless clubs, 
I find A Club of Ones Own (PLAYBOY, 
March), with text by D. Keith Mano, de- 
lightful. Those knockout ladies pictured 
at the Men's Club in Houston (Chanel, 
Leslie Delahoussaye, Jeanne Landacre, 
Danica Lynn and |.) look like the 
Swedish Bikini Team with their blonde 
wigs off—or brunette wigs on. 
George Hammons 
Manteca, California 


Cassandra Gori from Atlanta's Chee- 
tah Club is one gorgeous lady. What 
would it take for you to persuade her 
to appear in PLAYBOY in what Archie 
Bunker used to call “noodle frontity"? 
Here's hoping! 

Brian Daltowski 
North Bergen, New Jersey 


HEROES AT THE MASSACRE 
Thank you for Ron Ridenhour's arti- 
cle Heroes at the Massacre (PLAYBOY, 
March). It is great to read the truth. 1 
was in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969 and 
saw a lot of innocent village people killed 
and designated as Viet Cong. But what 
happened over there wasn’t our (the 
Gls’) fault. 1 think things just got out of 
hand and fear took over. My thanks to 
Ridenhour for the true story. 
Eugene A, Teen 
Des Moines, Iowa 


Thank Dad for being more proud than angry. 


Ultimately theres Black. 


Send a gift of Johnnie Walker? Black Label” any where in the U.S.A. Call 1-800-238-4373. Void where prohibited. 


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PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


SOUND ADVICE 


When audio consultant Lewis Lipnick 
advises his clients to spend $100,000 or 
more on a new stereo, they don't neces- 
sarily give him an earful. Lipnick, a prin- 
cipal contrabassoonist for the National 
Symphony Orchestra, musician-in-resi- 
dence for Stereophile magazine and a for- 
mer sound engineer, owns a firm, Your 
Silent Partner (based in Silver Spring, 
Maryland), that designs stereo systems 
capable of reproducing the acoustic 
properties of any concert hall in the 
world. Do you have a soft spot for the 
Concertgebouw in Amsterdam? Want to 
relive that unforgettable evening at 
Musikverein in Vienna? They re yours— 
for a price. But systems designed by 
Your Silent Partner aren't just for cla: 
cal music snobs. One fourth of Lipnick's 
customers request systems that mimic 
such halls as Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry 
and Preservation Hall in New Orleans. 
Some cost as little as $3500, bur he cau- 
tions, "You don't get champagne for a 
beer price." For rock connoisseurs, Lip- 
nick can design the ultimate ear-bleed 
special, "though if you listen only to 
rock," he says, "spending thirty or forty 
grand is probably a waste of money" 
Which means that if your dream system 
is one that replicates the Fillmore West 
circa 1969, you're better off investing in 
а hit of mescaline, a bag of weed and a 
bottle of Boone's Farm 


FEELING BOX-SPRINGED IN. 


Olga Frankevich of Vishneve, Ukraine 
proves there might be a commic under 
the bed—just as the Red Scare of the 
Fifties led us to believe. In 1947 Franke- 
vich hid under her bed after losing her 
father to a Stalinist purge and stayed 
there until late last year. All this led one 
observer to suggest that Frankevich may 
have emerged to find living conditions 
worse than they were 46 years ago. 


GROUND MEAT 


Not everyone brakes for animals. Last 
December, New Hampshire hosted an 
annual Roadkill Auction where some 


200 cager Northeasterners bid on bears, 
coyotes, wild turkeys, porcupines, foxes, 
opossums, deer, raccoons, bobcats, a 
bunch of birds and a lone mole. Here, 
apparently, was meat no one tires of. 


After eating 260 water-soaked prunes 
in 45 minutes to establish a new world 
record, Michael McCasland of Califor- 
nia—who trained by downing three and 
a half quarts of prune juice and 125 
prunes a day—quietly understated, “I'm 
just a regular guy.” 


DOWN IN THE DUMPS. 


John Hoffman has a college degree, a 
good job, a loving wife and a penchant 
for shopping in Dumpsters. He has 
trash-picked "TVs, couches, rLAYBOYs— 
even a diamond wedding ring, which he 
gave to his wife. It's all in his new book, 
The Art & Science of Dumpster Diving 
(Loompanics Unlimited). Hoffman con- 
tends that Dumpster diving is a pro- 
active form of frugality. His breed does 
not extend to foraging among kitchen 
scraps, though; Hoffman says the people 


ILLUSTRATION BY PATER SATO 


who dine on half-caten chicken legs need 
professional help. “Your modern Dump- 
ster diver may be a full-time student or 
a young, educated professional,” says 
the 27-ycar-old Hoffman. “By Dumpster 
diving, I virtually double my incom 
He sells lots of what he finds and never 
buys retail clothes or furniture. “The 
United States is full of idiots discarding 
perfectly good material wealth,” he says. 
"Its a diver's market. Don't ask why, just 
dive, baby, dive.” 


MONKEY BUSINESS. 


Pogo, a female gorilla in the San Fran- 
cisco Zoo, may never fulfill her destiny as 
a swinger. Pogo's privates are so petite 
that. according to zoo veterinarians. 
mating would probably be prohibitively 
painful for her. Rather than deny Pogo 
the joys of motherhood, the zoo is now 
attempting to inseminate her artificially. 
We understand that the male gorillas 
who are sweet on Pogo have reacted to 
this news by beating their chests. 


They're not as dangerous as the dis- 
carded hypodermic needles that scared 
beachcombers in recent summers, but 
plastic tampon applicators have washed 
up on the Jerscy shore by the thousands 
in the past few years. Now, Clean Ocean 
Action, a New Jersey environmental 
group, is gathering the applicators— 
nicknamed beach whistles—then paint 
ing them different colors, adding hooks 
and selling them to fishing groups as 
lures. They're called tampoons. 


FRENCH TWIST. 


France has gone to great lengths to 
control the proliferation of zany names 
among its citizens. However, the high 
court in La Rochelle overturned a lower 
court ruling and allowed the parents of 
Marie Marie Marie to keep their daugh- 
ter's name intact. The court was swayed 
by the following evidence offered by her 
father: The child weighed 3.3 kilos at 
birth, her head and chest measured 3 
centimeters and she was 51 centimeters 


Tabasco” brings out the unexpected in food. 
% 


1993. INBASCO в o ragislerecrocermcrk of Metheny Company. Avery islonc, Louisiana 705 


long—a multiple of three. Also, she was 
plump—or gironde in French—when she 
was born, and the license plate prefix for 
cars registered in the Gironde region is, 
mon Diew, 33. Case fermé. 


TICK BUFFERS 


Do you bite in the nude? We've 
learned to cover our arms and legs dur- 
ing the summer—lest we attract the at- 
tention of deer ticks and contract Lyme 
disease. However, some contrarian ad- 
vice is suggested by the research of Dr. 
Henry Feder, |r, of the University of 
Connecticut Health Center. While visit- 
ing a local nudist colony, he found only 
one case of Lyme infection despite the 
appetizing collection of more than 300 
campers who presumably would make 
easy pickings for the hungry ticks. His 
conclusion? “One explanation is that al- 
though deer are present, deer ticks are 
not yet established. A second explana- 
tion is that deer ticks do not like nudist 
as ticks prefer to do their biting under- 
cover." Our conclusion? It's time to wor- 
ry about something new this summer. 


FREE-MARKET FOLLY 


‘The Richard Nixon Library gift shop 
in Yorba Linda, California sells HILLARY 
FAN CLUB and GFORGE AND BARBARA FAMILY 
VALUES buttons for $2.50 each. DEMO 
CRATS FOR NIXON buttons, however, will 
set you back $5.50. 


POPPING YOUR BUBBLE 


Eyen if we don't know why we like to 
pop bubble wrap, psychologist Kathleen 
Dillon does. Dr. Dillon conducted re- 
search into the therapeutic benefits of 
bubble wrap and came up with this sci- 
entific explanation: Bubble bursters ex- 
perience a significant increase in ener- 
gy and they instantly become calmer. 
We, however, immediately become tense 
again when we wonder if tax dollars 
went into this research. 


ACHY BREAKY LIFE 


Researchers at Auburn University and 
Wayne State University conducted a sur- 
vey on the prevalence of country music 
оп radio stations in 49 metropolitan ar- 
eas and concluded that the more coun- 
try was played, the higher the suicide 
rate was in that market. 


Katie Couric poked some fun at politi- 
cal talk show host John McLaughlin and 
his new girlfriend, Kmart domestic tech- 
nician Martha Stewart, at a congression- 
al dinner in Washington. Couric's fa- 
vorite image? McLaughlin announcing 
to his group: "Issue six: herbs in the gar- 
den." Overheard was a voice saying, 
“Better her than me.” It was Eleanor 
Clift, one of McLaughlin's regular group 
members. 


RAW 


DATA 


SIGNIFICA, INSIGNIFICA, STATS AND FACTS 


FACT OF THE 
MONTH 

A new-model New 

York City subway саг 

holds 74 people sit- 

ting and an ad 

tional 186 standing. 


QUOTE 

“We need energies 
and synergies to 
develop agendas." — 
JANIE HATTON, PRINCI- 
PAL OF MILWAUKEE'S 
TRADE AND TECHNICAL 
HIGH SCHOOL AND 
PRINCIPAL OF THE 
YEAR, ON WHAT SHED 
‘TELL PRESIDENT CLINTON IF HE ASKED 
HER FOR ADVICE ON SCHOOLS 


COINCIDENCE, NO DOUBT 
Amount of the average fine levied 
by the Environment Protection 
Agency for hazardous-waste viola- 
tions white neighborhoods: 
$335,566; in minority areas: $55,318. 


DRUG-WAR CRIMES 
According to an American Bar As- 
sociation report, the percentage in- 
crease in arrests for drug offenses 
from 1985 to 1991: 24. Percentage of 
population that used drugs in 1985: 


12; in 1991: 6. 
. 


Percentage increase in number of 
adults in prison for drug offenses 
from 1986 to 1991: 327; percentage 
increase in number of adults in 
prison for violent crimes during same 
period: 41. 

. 


From 1986 to 1991, the percentage 
increase in arrests of minority youth 
for drug offenses: 78; percentage de- 
crease in drug-related arrests of non- 
minority youth during the same 
period: 34. 


SOUND RESEARCH 
According to Gordon Hempton, a 
professional recorder of wilderness 
sounds, number of miles that the 
hum of power lines can travel and still 
be audible: 2; miles a chain saw's 


noise carries: 5; miles 
road noise travels: 
10; length, in miles, 
of an airport's noise 
shadow: 50. 


BOOMER BUST 


Percentage of baby 
boomers who admit 
they aren't where 
they thought they 
would be in their ca- 
reers: 61; percentage 
who regret having 
4 spent too much time 
i at the office and too 
7 little at home: 50. 


SAX APPEAL 


Percentage increase in the sales of 
saxophones reported by Boosey & 
Hawks, a major sax manufacturer, 
since Bill Clinton's initial TV appear- 
ance with his horn: 15 to 20. 


FIRE AWAY 


According to the General Ассо; 
ing Office, amount that the military 
spent on recruitment and training in 
1990 to replace homosexual men and 
women: $27 million. Number of gays 
and lesbians who were kicked out of 
the military: 1000. 


CONFLICT OF INTERESTS 

According to a London Times Mir- 
ror survey of 1200 Americans, per- 
centage who watched one of three 
TV movies made about Amy Fisher: 
41; percentage who watched at least | 

two: 18. 
P 


Percentage of Americans who 
didn't know Serbs were the group. 
that attacked Bosnia: 79; who didn't 
know reasons for the fighting: 68: 
who didn't know the meaning of eth- 
nic cleansing: 66. 


Percentage who knew nothing of 
the Bosnian conflict who also watched 
ап Amy Fisher movie: 50. 

— PAUL ENGLEMAN 


MARLBORO 


ADVENTURE. 
TEAM GEAR 


Made for the toughest places on earth. 


e 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Quitting Smoking 


Now Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Health. 


сат :800-MARLBORO. 


This offeris good only in the U.S. and is open to smokers who pre 21 years of age or older. Catalog offers are void 
in Kansas and Wyoming and where otherwise prohibited. Postage und handling will be required with all gear 
merthandise orders. Telephone requests for catalogs must be received by July 15, 1993. Offer good while. denis lost. 
See in-store display.ora Marlboro Adventure Team Gear Catalog far complete details. Allow 3-4weeks for delivery. 


18 


MOVIES 


By BRUCE WILLIAMSON 


A LESBIAN-MEETS-BOY angle gives a bold 
Contemporary twist to Three of Hearts 
(New Linc), slickly directed by Yurek 
(Anna) Bogayevicz from a screenplay by 
Adam Greenman and Mitch Glazer. 
Time—and audience reaction—will tell 
whether gays view this provocative ro- 
mantic comedy as a step forward or a 
step back, Kelly Lynch plays the “out” 
lesbian who employs an amoral stud 
from a male-escort service to convince 
her former live-in lover (Sherilyn Fenn, 
as a bisexual still not sure which way she 
wants to swing) that all men are rotten 
bastards. Is it giving too much away to 
disclose that Fenn's character falls for the 
lug who's supposed to dump her? Three of 
Hearts is definitely a star turn for William 
Baldwin, another hot-blooded Baldwin 
brother leaving burn marks in his wake 
as the cocky lady-killer. His co-stars look 
damned good as well, in a somewhat ob- 
vious but teasing sexual triangle that 
takes on a naughty topic once consid- 
ered untouchable in a major movie. YYY 


‘Jamaica in the 1840s provides the per- 
fect backdrop of heady tropical heat and 
sweltering passion for Wide Sargasso Sea 
(Fine Line). Kated NC-17, the movie was 
adapted (with two collaborators) by Aus- 
tralian director John Duigan from Jean 
Rhys’ famed 1966 novel. Her book, in- 
spired by Charlotte Bronté’s Jane Eyre, 
spells out that novel's untold story of 
Rochester’s mad wife, who burns to 
death in an attic. 

In Wide Sargasso Sea, the wife is shown 
many years earlier as luscious young An- 
toineue, heiress to a Jamaican plantation 
(Rachel Ward and Michael York play her 
erratic parents, driven away by a slave 
rebellion). Movie newcomer Karina 
Lombard all but simmers with willing- 
ness as Antoinette, whose wild but be- 
guiling native ways unsettle young 
Rochester (Nathaniel Parker) on his ar- 
rival from England to marry her. Their 
relationship turns into a hard-breathing 
tug-of-war between unabashed basic in- 
stincts and British reserve. Rochester 
can't quite surrender to his wife's island 
world, though he often succumbs ar- 
dently to her attractions in bed. Despite 
the support of a black family retainer 
(Claudia Robinson) who may be into sor- 
cery, Antoinette is the ultimate loser. 
Less cerebral on film than in print, Wide 
Sargasso Sea wages the battle of the sexes 
with flesh-and-blood fervor, ¥¥¥ 


A serious author who has been writing 
potboilers for big bucks under a nom de 


Baldwin, Lynch swapping Hearts. 


Gay lovers call it quits, and 
a solid Brit from Jane Eyre's 
England goes awry in the tropics. 


plume decides to kill off his alter ego and 
stick to literature. But the son of a bitch 
won't die. Worse yet, he assumes a life of 
his own and starts killing people who get 
in his way. That's a concept, all right, 
and The Dark Half (Orion) pursues it as a 
spooky tale of twinship—with Timothy 
Hutton holding forth handsomely in his 
dual role. Hutton is both the scholarly 
Thad Beaumont and his maniacal sub- 
conscious creation, George Stark. Amy 
Madigan plays Thad's threatened wife, 
with Michael Rooker as a friendly detec- 
tive who tries to make sense of some fair- 
ly farfetched happenings. The gory cli- 
max raises many questions, yet Dark Half 
works wickedly much of the time. While 
Hutton helps with strikingly dramatic 
switches from Thad to George, this 
adaptation of a Stephen King best-seller 
thrives. Adapter and director George A. 
Romero (Night of the Living Dead was his 
magnum opus) proves shock by shock 
that he and King's purple prose were 
made for each other. ¥¥/2 


Being а martial-arts buff may height- 
en enjoyment Of Dragon: The Bruce Lee 
Story (Universal). ‘Thanks to a striking 
performance in the title role by Jason 
Scott Lee (no relation, see Off Camera) 
and to director Rob Cohen, the movie 
scores as more than a standard star- 
struck bio. Although it’s based on a book 
by Linda Lee Cadwell, the remarried 


widow of the high-kicking hero, Dragon 
is a mixture of mysticism, romance and 
rags-to-riches moral that enhances Lee’s 
legend without sentimentalizing it. Not 
everyone knows that he was born in San 
Francisco, married a blonde American 
(Lauren Holly plays Linda) and turned 
from teaching his version of kung fu—a 
method called Jeet Kune Do—to playing 
a sidekick named Kato in TV's The Green 
Hornet. Disillusioned when David Carra- 
dine got the role he wanted in the Kung 
Fu television series, Lee learned that his 
Kato was already a household word 
among Asian audiences. He became a 
superhero there. But he had just one 
major American-backed film under his 
belt (Enter the Dragon) when he died at 
the age of 32 of a cerebral hemorrhage 
only weeks before that movie's 1973 pre- 
miere. In this movie, a predestined sense 
of doom about his short, happy life is 
embodied in a haunting phantom figure 
that materializes at intervals, while Jason 
Scott Lee gives Bruce a buoyant person- 
ality that never seems merely imitative. 
Add a series of spectacular fight scenes 
to a unique success story, and Dragon 
definitely delivers. ¥¥¥ 


Ardent moviegoers have an entranc- 
ing treat as well as an education in store 
in Visions of Light: The Art of Cinematography 
(Kino International). Three directors 
are behind this compilation of on-cam- 
era interviews with most of moviedom's 
top lensmen, who show and tell exactly 
what it is they do. More than a score of 
camera wizards—from Nestor Almen- 
dros and Conrad Hall to Sven Nykvist 
and Vittorio Storaro—illustrate their 
own work and the work of others, living 
and dead. Illuminating film clips cover 
Birth of a Nation, Citizen Kane, Hud, Apoc- 
alypse Now and many more. All in all, Vi- 
sions is a short history of moviemaking, 
illustrated with inside views from the 
men and women who were able to suc- 
cessfully argue that а single film frame 
can often be more eloquent than pages 
of dialogue. Y 


Film has usually treated Shakespeare's 
tragedies better than it has his comedies. 
With Much Ado About Nothing (Goldwyn), 
producer-director Kenneth Branagh 
may break that tradition. His breezy 
adaptation makes this exuberant sex 
comedy as accessible as any romp by 
Woody Allen or Neil Simon. Shake- 
speare's dialogue has been abridged but 
not blunted, and Much Ado plays like a 
wild country weekend of royal wooing, 
wickedness and wedlock. As the noble 


A First From The 


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20 


Lee gives а lift to Dragon. 


OFF CAMERA 


His background could be that of 
a Hawaiian surfer. But, at 26, Jason 
Scott Lee is catching major waves as 
a movie star. He has the leading 
role opposite Anne (La Femme Niki- 
1a) Parillaud in the new Map of the 
Human Heart. He is also breathing. 
fire into Dragon: The Bruce Lee 
Story (see review). portraying the 
great martial-arts hero (to whom 
he is emphatically not related). 
“My dad took us to Bruce Lee 
films a lot when I was six or sev- 
en,” says Lee, “and [ wore a T-shirt 
with one of those iron-on Bruce 
Lee decals.” Born in Los Angeles 
but raised in Hawaii by Chi- 
nese-Hawaiian parents, Jason was 
extremely athletic through his col- 
lege years. That allowed him to do 
most of his own stunt work in 
Dragon. "When we previewed the 
movie in New Jersey, the audience 
reaction was amazing. They were 
cheering and applauding, dancing 
in the aisles after every fight." 

A casting director sent him to 
Dragon director Rob Cohen after. 
Lee was turned down for The Last 
of the Mohicans. "He didn't look In- 
dian enough,” says Cohen, who 
quickly signed Lee as Lee. “Jason 
is handsomer, sexier than Bruce 
Lee. I wanted a real actor, a charis- 
matic icon, not a look-alike.” Actor 
Brandon Lee, Bruce's son, didn't 
look Chinese enough and had oth- 
er qualms. Jason's star quality has 
impressed everyone, including 
Kevin Costner, who is producing a 
second epic, Rapa Nui. About to 
leave for that film's Easter Island 
location, Lee notes, "It's an epic 
adventure about the decimation of 
a native culture, setin the 1600s. 1 
play Oroinia, the chief's grand- 
son, a sort of warrior prince. My 
leading lady is Sandrine Holt. We 
haven't met, but she has a great 
figure.” Lee sounds like an up- 
and-comer with more on his mind 
than chopsocky. 


Benedick, who vows eternal bachelor- 
hood, Branagh trades barbs with tart- 
tongued Beatrice, played by his gifted 
wife, Emma Thompson, whose natural 
‚vivacity all but jumps off the screen. 
While that famous couple joust and 
think they're in love. handsome Claudio 
(Robert Sean Leonard) and Beatrice's 
fair cousin Hero (Kate Beckinsale) are 
betrothed—though Claudio humiliates 
his intended at the altar, having been 
duped into thinking she's a tramp. 
Moral considerations are shrugged off 
with a wink by a stellar cast that includes 
Denzel Washington as princely Don 
Pedro, Keanu Reeves as his treacherous 
bastard halfbrother Don John and 
Michael Keaton, who mangles the King's 
English and steals the show as the ad- 
dled Constable Dogberry. Filmed on lo- 
cation in Italy, where everyone appears 


to thrive under the sun, Much Ado is a joy 
for actors and audience alike. УУУУ 


Fourteen-year-old movie newcomer 
Robert J. Steinmiller, Jr., hits the emo- 
tional jackpot in the title role of Jack the 
Bear (Fox). Equally winning is his little 
brother, Dylan (Miko Hughes), who is 
kidnapped by a deranged neighbor 
(Gary Sinise). Both kids are the progeny 
of Danny DeVito, a widowed dad whose 
deceased wife (Andrea Marcovicci) occa- 
sionally appears in flashbacks. DeVito is 
known locally as the monster-host who 
introduces horror movies on TV. It’s 
hard not to like him as a guy fighting to 
keep his sons and his sanity. Jack the Bear 
wallows in thick sentiment. Warm and 
cuddlesome as can be, would it be split- 
ting hairs to add that the movie is also a 
bit frayed and fuzzy? ¥¥ 


Stunning cinematography by James 
Bagdonas keeps American Heart (Triton) 
from being wholly depressing. Inspired 
by his Streetwise, а grim Eighties docu- 
mentary about desperate, depraved ado- 
lescents at large in Seattle, Martin Bell 
directs this woeful tale, written by Peter 
Silverman, Jeff Bridges tops his own 
high standards as Jack, a newly released 
jailbird who can't help boasting about his 
larcenous past yet wants a better life for 
his 15-year-old son, Nick. The boy— 
vividly played by Edward Furlong—ex- 
udes the innocent air ofan abused angel. 
Of course, the street life beckons Jack 
and he becomes preoccupied with a 
woman (Lucinda Jenney) who wrote to 
him in prison through the letters col- 
umn of a magazine called, yes, American 
Heart. The movie is grungy but beautiful 
and is brilliantly acted. Whether you like 
it ог not, you have to admire Bell's 
wrenching, compassionate view of these 
born losers. УУЖ 


MOVIE SCORE CARD 


capsule close-ups of current films 
by bruce williamson 


American Friends (Reviewed 5/93) 
Michael Palin in love at Oxford. ¥¥¥ 
American Heart (See review) Under- 
dogs on the seamy side of Seattle. ¥¥¥ 
Benny & Joon (5/93) They're troubled 
siblings saved by Johnny Depp. УМУ 
Bodies, Rest & Motion (5/93) Young sin- 
gles provoking long yawns. yy 
The Dork Half (See review) Both halves 
in conflict are Tim Hutton. Wh 
Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story (See review) 
Lee as Lee is A-OK. yyy 
El Mariachi (5/93) Damned good Mexi- 
can standoff, on a shoestring. УУУ 
Equinox (5/93) Twins in the Twin Cities 
with Matthew Modine. yy 
Falling Down (3/93) As Everyman 
pushed over the edge, Michael Doug- 
las meets Robert Duvall. WI) 
House of Cards (5/93) Kathleen Turner 
stars, with a shaky premise. А 
Jack the Bear (See review) Danny De- 
Vito at home with two kids. yy 
Joey Breaker (4/93) All about a sleazy 
showbiz agent and how he grew. ¥¥'/2 
The Last Butterfly (Listed only) A mime 
tangles with some nasty Nazis. — V/z 
The Long Day Closes (5/03) British lad 
loves vintage tunes and movies. УУУ: 
Mad Dog & Glory (5/93) De Niro and 
Murray vic for Uma Thurman. УУУ 
Map of the Human Heart (4/93) Love 
that's out of sync but lasting. WAY 
Much Ado About Nothing (Scc review) 
Shakespearean snap, crackle and pop 
from Branagh. ww 
Olivier Olivier (4/93) A missing gargon 
reappears in a French family that has 
some doubts about him. yyy 
The Pickle (5/93) A sour little comedy 
from dircctor Paul Mazursky. Y 
Riff-Raff (4/93) At a London building 
site, the lowlifes raise hell. LUZ 
Romper Stomper (5/93) Australian skin- 
heads on a collision course. УУУ 
Sofie (Listed only) Liv Ullmann has 
her say about a woman's lot. УУУУ; 
Stolen Children (4/93) From Italy, an 
eloquent drama about two waifs and a 
sympathetic cop. EA 
The Story of Qiu Ju (5/93) Beautiful 
Gong Li as a peasant wife on the go 
against rigid Chinese customs. УУУУ 
This Boy's Ше (4/93) De Niro in high 
gear as the wicked stepdad. — УИ 
Three of Hearts (Scc review) Boy gets 
girlafter girlfriend loses her YYY 
Visions of Light: The Art of Cinematography 
(See review) Eyc-filling. А 
Wide Sargasso Sea (Scc rcvicw) Lust in 
the sun—long before Jane Eyre. ¥¥¥ 


YY Worth a look 
Y Forget it 


УУУУ Don't miss 
¥¥¥ Good show 


tee) ni/ MO Army vpn жила ун у TS Y еде; змы 


Those who appreciate quality 
enjoy it responsibly. 


You have two more wishes. 


THE REST OF THE WORLD 


The others must be out there somewhere. 

Furiously recalibrating. Reconcepting. Rethinking the very idea 
of what a motorcycle could be. 

Because they've seen the future, housed in the new BMW 
R11OORS. The machine that's transforming the way people ride. 
And the most advanced case for high-tech freedom ever invented. 

Anchored to a radical new 1100cc, four-valve Boxer роми 
plant, the R1100RS bo: two cylinders that produce ЭОНР 
With the BMW Motronic engine management system that deter- 
mines precisely the О ts of fuel and ignition ШЕ 


WILL BE ALONG SHORTLY. 


It's also the first "adjustable" motorcycle designed, like 
leather, to fit itself to the rider. With adjustable handlebars, 
an adjustable seat, and an adjustable windscreen. 

This futuristic ideal is endowed with BMW's patented 
Paralever rear suspension and revolutionary Telelever “front 
suspension for stability and control. ABS-I| is optional 

Not overlooking the needs of Planet Earth, BMW's unique 
catalytic converter reduces exhaust and noise emissions and 
allows you to pump adrenalin without clouding the atmos- 
phere. All in all, an environmental masterpiece that leads 


the world in both social conscience and primal instincts. 

But although its strength is how it approaches tomorrow, 
yesterday's advances have not been left behind. As with any 
BMW motorcycle, the new R1100RS arrives with a reassur- 
ing, three-year, unlimited-mileage, limited warranty. And 
automatic BMW motorcycle Roadside Assistance Plan:* 

For a close encounter with the new Boxer, simply call 
800-345-4BMW for your nearest authorized deale 2 

Then, beginning Мау 8th, come іп and see the 
world start to change shape. FOR THE WORLD AHEAD, 


b ol Catia, B xn 


VIDEO 


ШИЙ 


long before there 
was 90210, there 
were Hillbillies— 
Beverly, that is. But 
Clampett family patri- 
arch Buddy Ebsen's 
enthusiasms are 
hardly inbred, "JFK is 


Ы а provocative, grip- 
ping film," says Ebsen ofa favorite on tape, 


"and | liked LA. Story—anything with 
Steve Martin. Bogart's up there, too, with 
Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon." Of 
his own films, Ebsen top-ranks Breakfast 
at Tiffany's ("Working with Audrey Hep- 
burn was like putting on a finely crafted 
sports jacket") and Broadway Melody of 
1938 ("My dance with Judy Garland is still 
fun to watch"). And whet about his Hillbil- 
lies work? “I watch them when I'm feeling 
low; Ebsen says. "We made 274 epi- 
sodes, but to tell the truth, I don't remem- 
ber some of them.” —EUIABETH O'KEEFE 


BRUCE ON VIDEO 
our movie critic goes to the tape 


‘The man’s world of moviedom was hard- 
pressed to find five female Oscar nomi- 
nees for 1992. It wasn't always so. 
Witness the actresses below in their 
definitive, image-fixing roles: 

BETTE DAVIS: She won Oscars for Danger- 
ous (1985) and Jezebel (1938) but lost out 
when she really hit her stride as an aging 
star in 1950's All About Eve. 

KATHARINE HEPBURN: She redefined the 
leading lady as a politico in Woman of the 
Year (1942), then scored again in 1951's 
The African Queen. Both were Oscar- 
nominated, no-win landmarks. 

GRACE KELLY: Playing Jimmy Stewart's 
sexy inamorata in Rear Window (1954) 
put the princess on the map—the same 
year she won her statuette for suffering 
as The Country Girl. 

VIVIEN LEIGH: Taking top honor for Gone 
with the Wind (1939) made everything she 
did later an event—including her 1951 
Oscar for A Streetcar Named Desire. 
ELIZABETH TAYLOR: The Academy award- 
ed her for her volatile turn їп 1966's 
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and lesser 
stint in the 1960 Butterfield 8. Both were 
probably consolation prizes for not re- 
varding her much finer work in Cat опа 
Hot Tin Roof (1958). —BRUCE WILLIAMSON 


VIDEO GLASNOST 
ith Moscow's Gosfilmo- 


In cooperation 
fond film arci 
Institute, Milestone Film & Video has 
released its ten-tape Eorly Russian Cinema 
24 anthology, a bounty of 28 recently un- 


covered silent films from Russia's proud 
age of moviemaking (1908-1918). The 
works—meticulously transferred. onto 
tape, scored and subtided—capture the 
era with often controversial themes 
(from social commentary to erotic come- 
dies) as interpreted by the бау leading 
artists. Most notable: the first screen 
adaptation of Chekhov's Romance with a 
Double Bass and four by Evgenii Bauer— 
Russia's D. W. Grifhth—who churned 
out nearly 80 pictures in just four years. 


WHAT'S UP, DOC? 


MGM/UA's The Golden Age of Looney Tunes 
is a smart collection of benchmark ani- 
mation from Warner's wartime cartoon 
explosion. The top funnies: 
Firsts: Bugs, Daily, Porky, Tweety, Syl- 
vester and Foghorn Leghorn in the car- 
toons that made them famous. Most cu- 
rious: Odor-able Kitty, in which amorous 
skunk Pepe LePew dogs a male cat. 
Bugs Bunny by Each Director (or Six Men in 
Search of a Wabbit): Warner's legendary 
drawing team illustrates the importance 
ofbeing Bugs. Includes the politically in- 
correct World War Two cartoon Bugs 
Bunny Nips the Nips. 
Hooray for Hollywood: Will Bugs get the 
Oscar? Will Bogart get his order of fried 
rabbit? Will Daffy get Ann Sheridan? A 
trunkload of Tinseltoons. 
1930s Musi A program of primitive 
gems, including Smile, Darn Ya, Smile! (a 
ditty later heard in Who Framed Roger 
Rabbit) and Tex Avery's sublime, art de- 
co-decked minimusical, Miss Glory. 
Individual odes to the animators in- 


clude Friz Freleng (the standout: Syl- 
vester's feline tour de force, Back Alley 
Oproar) and Bob Clampett (highlighted by 
his dead-on Fantasia parody, А Corny 
Concerto). — DONALD LIEBENSON 


LASER FARE 
Good news for big-band buffs. On the 
heels of Fox's landmark laser release of 
Glenn Miller's Orchestra Wives and Sun 
Valley Serenade comes a sweet music sam- 
pling from BMG. Glenn Miller: America's 
Musical Hero—Special Edition pays homage 
to the swing giant with an hour-long 
documentary on side one, a 16-song au- 
dio program on side two—and magic 
memories all around. . .. The Voyager 
Company is fast becoming popular for 
its soundtracks featuring commentary 
by top filmmakers. Directorial chat grac- 
ing upcoming Criterion Collection discs: 
Nicolas Roeg (rhe Man Who Fell to Earth) 
and Francis Coppola (Bram Stoker's Drocu- 
fa)... . Blackhawk Films and Image En- 
tertainment have turned out an impres- 
sive restoration of Nosferatu (1922), F. W. 
Murnau's silent vampire classic. Not an 
easy task: Most of the film's prints were 
destroyed in the wake of a Twenties 
copyright war. . . With its three-platter 
Work in Progress: Beauty and the Beast, Dis- 
ney traces B&B from penciled story- 
boards to final flick. Still the best sing- 
along: Be Our Guest. . . . In а recent 
consumer poll, The Laser Disc Neusletter 
asked readers to name one disc most in 
need of remastering. Top choice: The 
Sound of Music, followed by Once Upon а 
Time in the West and Dune. You've been 
warned. — GREGORY P FAGAN 


Glengarry Glen Ross (Mamet's talky poean to real-estate 
sales scum; Lemman is high-strung, Pacino is low-key— 
both are superb), A River Runs Through И (families, fly-fishing 
and angst—lush stuff from director Redford). 


Night and the City (two versions of scam ramonce: 1950— 
Widmork and Tierney, 1992—De Niro ond Longe; toke 
the oldie), Candyman (caed summons titular hoak-handed 
wraith; grisly but OK), Ges Food Lodging (Mom deals with 

teen daughters’ lust in New Mexico dust; a find). 


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be doing a year from now? 


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Unlike most of our competitors, 


oe Wer 
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26 


STYLE 


RUGBY'S NEW KICK 


Surprise colors, unusual collars and big sizes give a striking 
new look to rugby shirts. Among our favorites are styles from 
Tango by Max Raab featuring bold dots, funky paisleys and 
chambray collars ($45, shown here). Cross Colours' shirts take 
on a hip-hop flavor, some with color blocking and soft 
brushed-cotion collars ($64, also shown here) 
and others with vivid vertical stripes 
and sporty lace-up fronts ($64). 
Zip-front shirts by Yes Men 
come in more than 20 
bright color com- 
binations 
($40). For a 
jazzy, youth- 
look, try 
rugby shirts 
that feature hip 
cartoon charac- 
ters; a Donald 
Duck-like 
one is dis- 
played on 
Tag Бар 
deep-toned 
striped ver- 
sion ($34). If you're not quite ready to wear the bold and the 
bright, Bosa Le Collezioni offers rugby shirts in washed neu- 
tral and pastel colors ($34). 


WORKING CLASS 


Blue-collar work wear and mainstream men's sportswear 
have formed a union this season, which means that even 
if you're not up for an afternoon of hard labor, your 
dothing will be. One company, Carhartt, offers 
black or brown stonewashed three-quarter- 
length work jackets that have extra room in the 
back for better movement ($55). H. W. Carter. 
& Son's vintage line features a similarly styled 
carpenter's jacket with railroad ticking 
stripes, sturdy metal buttons and large patch 
pockets ($100), plus fitted work shirts and 
pants in colored twills and denim (both about 
$55) and a jazzy two-toned blue-checked cham- 
bray work shirt ($52). In general, work wear 
looks best when mixed with classic sportswear. A 
ticking-striped work shirt from Smith Apparel 
($60) goes great with a pair of flat-front khakis, as 
does a banded-collar shirt with shadow-striped cov- 
eralls by Dickie's Workwear ($30) or denim overalls 
by Big Smith ($36). Smith Apparel also makes a rub- 
berized, water-resistant windbreaker ($100). 


HOT SHOPPING: AMSTERDAM 


In anything-goes Amsterdam, sex and some drugs may be le- 
gally for sale, but neither travels well, so we recommend buying 
less risky souvenirs 
at these hot shops. х 
г Klompenhuisje 
(Nieuwe Hoogstraat 
9a): In the land of 
clogs, this place is 
said to have the best 
and brightest selec- 
tion. e 1001 Bieren 
(Huidenstraat 21): 
Yes, 1001 different 
beers from around 
the world are sold 
here. e Nieuws In- 
noventions (Prinsen- 
gracht 297): Eu- 
rotech accessories 
that you can't find 
back home. e Sissy 
Boy (Van Baer- 
lestraat 12): Despite 
the name, there's 
nothing sissy about 
this store’s mens- 
wear, which includes 
everything from 
tweeds to sweat- 
ers. When you've 
had your fill of 
Amsterdam's 
pint-sized 
shops, head to 
Waterlooplein central square Monday through Saturday 
for the huge open-air flea market. 


TIE ONE ON—YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! 


Back in the Sixties, the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia 
wouldr't have been caught dead in a tie. Now he's 
selling them. Garcia claims he gets his inspiration 
from personal scuba-diving adventures, which ex- 
plains why the ties are named Fish, Frog and Un- 
dertow ($29 to $33). Psychedelic rock posters from 
the Fillmore East and West are also being made in- 
to ties. Some of the bands represented include the 
Doors, the Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd and the Who 
($38). Sketches made by John Lennon—including 
his famous self-portrait—also pop up in neckwear 
($35 to $50). Last, there's the Beatles Collection— 
ties inspired by such hits as Can't Buy Me Love, А 
Hard Day's Night and Paperback Writer ($28.50). 


S T Y L E 


M E T E R 


SHORTS IN 


OUT 


STYLES 


FABRICS AND COLORS 


Long (iust above the knee] walking shorts; 
baggy fits; worn with untucked shirts 


Cotton twill, denim and linen in solid notural 
tones such as ivory, khaki, blue and olive 


Second-skin cycle shorts; string-waisted, 
swim-trunk-length shorts 


Nylon and Lycro; stretch cotton; acid brights; 
color-blocking, island prints 


DETAILS 


Flat fronts with belt loops, zippers; belted 
paper-bag waists; five-pocket styles 


Elastic waists; cuffs; giant designer or 
sports-team logos 


Where & How to Buy on poge 178. 


IT WON'T SOMNIA. 


LL GIVE YOU 


BUT AT LEAST 


SOMETHING TO STARE AT. 


The IndiGlo night-light illuminates with a push of a button. And at $47.95, this Ironman’ [NDIG LO” 
Triathlon” watch is so handsome, you'll enjoy staring at it. For retailers, call 1-800-367-8463. BY TIMEX 


TIMEX. IT TAKES А LICKING AND KEEPS ON тіскіне- 


CHARLES М. YOUNG 


EACH TIME I think Гуе heard everything 
that can possibly be done with the blues, 
somebody comes along and makes me 
feel really, really foolish. John Campbell 
the latest somebody, and he has really 
shaken my self-esteem with his second 
album, Howlin Mercy (Elektra). The blues 
moribund? Not while this guy's alive. А. 
classically ravaged voice of experience, 
Campbell sings about halfway between 
Howlin' Wolf and Leonard Cohen (and 
even that doesn't do justice to his 
defiant, raw masculinity). His band, a 
simple four-piece with Campbell on 
slide, is defiantly uncooked as well—di- 
rect from the swamp at midnight, which 
makes sense, since Campbell comes from 
isiana. Although the original song- 
writing here is first-rate, the high-water 
mark is the cover of Led Zeppelin's When 
the Levee Breaks, which 1 had always con- 
sidered to be uncoverable. In Camp- 
bell's treatment, Robert Plant's original 
moan of despair gradually transmog- 
rifies into a snarl of rage, accompanied 
by Campbell's outrageously percussive 
slide. Somehow, you can see the levee 
breaking, with Campbell standing be- 
fore the onrushing wall of water, saying 
“Fuck you, flood.” So I say this guy has 
more testosterone than the entire Unit- 
ed States Marine Corps, and if you dis- 
agree, fuck you, too. 


FAST CUTS: Miranda Sex Garden, Sus- 
piro (Mute): Their first album featured 
straight a cappella renditions of me- 
dieval folk songs sung as if the group 
were a classically trained version of the 
Shangri-Las. Here, they come off like 
the Shangri-Las meet King С 
ploring the terrifying, awe- 
mos side of psychedelia. If they ever get 
together with John Campbell, they'll 
have incredibly interesting children. In 
the meantime, don't miss Willie Biddle in 
His Watery Grave. 

Crossfire Choir, Jesus (CBGB): One of 
the best bands to come out of punk's 
birthplace, CBGB, in a long time tries to 
attract major-label interest here with a 
three- ЕР Buy it now so you сап tell 
nds you heard them first. 
ing guitar riffs, particularly on 
Who's Goose-stepping Now? 


DAVE MARSH 


How can PM. Dawn get away with 
making a second album that practically 
clones its first? Mainly because The Bliss 
Album (Vibrations of Love and Anger and the 
Ponderance of Life ond Existence) (Gee 
Street/[sland) repeats a mood that re- 

28 mains unusual even among today's most 


John Campbell's raw Howlin Mercy. 


Blues direct from the midnight 
swamp; tripping through 
the Sixties with PM, Dawn, 


psychedelicized hip-hoppers and rock- 
ers. PM. Dawn uses. for example. the 
Beatles’ Norwegian Wood to create atmos- 
pheres and soundscapes that rank with 
such gently trippy Sixties archetypes as 
Love's Forever Changes and, indeed, Rub- 
ber Soul. Like gangsta Ice Cube, these 
black New Jersey Anglophiles make mu- 
sic that redefines the boundaries of con- 
temporary pop. And when necessary, as 
on Plastic, they can set a groove that 
rocks the house. 


FAST CUTS: Аз someone who once wrote 
a book that purported to enumerate the 
1001 greatest singles ever made, I say all 
rock histories are incomplete. So you can 
imagine how mind-boggling Time-Life 
Music's The Rock ‘п’ Roll Era is to me: À 50- 
volume CD en that features 1100 
tracks and still takes the story up to only 
1963. Nobody's ever tried anything this 
comprehensive, especially with such high 
quality in pressing, annotation and pack- 
aging. The pre-Beatles basics are all 
here, induding single-artist compila- 
tions for Elvis, the Supremes and the 
Beach Boys, among others, that rank 
with the best available in stores. Because 
the series ranges as far back as 1945 (on 
Volume 30, Roots of Rock '45—'55у and 
does not stint on genres like doo-wop, 


the effect is like bumping into Alistair 
Cooke and discovering he wears a duck- 
tail. So far, Time-Life will sell you the 
damn things only by subscription, one 


disc a month. That means it takes more 
than four years to acquire all of them. 
But its no exaggeration to say that it 
takes at least ten times that long to ab- 
sorb it all. Despite what your teacher 
told you, nota second will be wasted. 


VIC GARBARINI 


You first heard Bruce Hornsby's key- 
board genius on his poignant 1986 work 
with the Range, The Way It Is. Live, 
Hornsby has played with everyone from 
Branford Marsalis to the Grateful Dead. 
On Herbor Lights (RCA), his first solo ef- 
fort, he finally shows his stuff on record, 


* and the results are startling. Hornsby 
i has enhanced his songwriting skills, 


adding a sophisticated musical edge with 
the aid of Marsalis, Pat Metheny and Jer- 
ry Garcia. They all play with an intensity 
that will amaze their fans. What makes 
this one of the most exhilaratingly cre- 
ative leaps by a major artist in years is 
Hornsby's skill at threading a folk-based 
melody through knotty rhythms, his rip- 
pling solo lines on folk-funk-jazz work- 
outs like Rainbow Cadillac and the strong 
lyrics on Talk of the Town. 


FAST CUTS: Mick Jagger. Wondering Spir- 
и (Atlantic): Maybe you can't teach an old 
dog new tricks, but producer Rick Rubin 
proves you can get ‘em to relearn earlier 
ones. By sticking with raw, gospel-in- 
flected R&B, Rubin updates the Let It 
Bleed-era Stones, providing Jagger with 
the context so conspicuously absent on 
his first two efforts. 

Van Halen, Right Here, Right Now 
(Warner): What were once innovations 
are now near hés. This live outing 
finds our most original guitarist treading 
water. Maybe it’s time for a Band of Gyp- 
мез project. 


ROBERT CHRISTGAU 


Freedy Johnston is a little over 30. 
Thelonious Monster's Bob Forrest is a 
Іше under. Сап You Fly (Bar/None, Box 
1704, Hoboken, New Jersey 07030) is 
Johnston's second album; Beautiful Mess 
(Capitol) is Forrest’s fourth. Johnston 
sold the family farm for ten grand to 
finish his record; Forrest blew a big ad- 
vance making his. Both guys feel a little 
like failures, and if you can’t get behind 
that, you probably can't hear what they 
have to say. Too bad for you 

Occasionally an old-timer gets lucky, 
but Can You Fly is the work of genius— 
the strongest album by a new male 
singer-songwriter in at least a decade. 
Johnston's accounts of selling “the dirt 
to feed the band,” the post-ozone rock 


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32 


FAST TRACKS 


THE DISBELIEF DEPARTMENT: The Ark 
Trust, a nonprofit humane society, 
gave its Doris Day Award to Megadeth. 
The animal rights organization hon- 
ored the metal band for naming its 
LP Countdown to Extinction. 

REELING AND ROCKING: Former Twisted 
Sister Dee Snider is being tapped for a 
horror film. . . . Bette Midler is going to 
do her first TV movie, Gypsy, on CBS 
in the fall. . . . Yes, that was John Oates’ 
music you heard on the HBO special 
about the making of the annual Sports 
Illustrated swimsuit issue. 

NEWSBREAKS: Bell Biv DeVoe's sopho- 
more LP just came out, and they have 
a line of hip-hop fashion called Flip- 
side available nationwide in Foot 
Locker and Athlete's Foot stores, 
among others. . . . Janet Jackson’s LP 
will be in stores any day now and 
she’s auditioning dancers for a world 
tour. . . . It's not over until it’s over: 
Another Stevie Ray Vaughan LP could 
be out by the end of the year. Perfor- 
mances from 1978 have recently been 
discovered. . . - Perspective is every- 
thing: Meat Loaf's 1977 release, Bal 
Out % Hell, currently outsells 1992 
releases from Prince, INXS and Bon 
Jovi. . . . David Byrne is gearing up for 
another solo outing. . After 7 will 
tour with Gladys Knight. Shanice ех- 
pects to have a new album in the 
stores in July. .. . Prince has been film- 
ing celebrities at his new L.A. club, 
Glam Slam, including Spike Lee, Jade, 
Keith Washington and Tevin Campbell, 
for a video of Blue Light. The clip may 
come out only on a video compilation 
of the album. Prince plans to make а 
video of each song from the LP. . . 
Lita Ford made her acting debut on 
Fox TV's Herman's Head... .Ace-t plans 
to tell all when Penguin publishes The 
Ice Opinion. . . . And Boy George has 
penned his autobiography, Take It Like 
@ Man, which should make it to the 


States this year. .. . In addition to Cen- 
ter Stage being produced by PBS in 
Chicago, In the Spotlight, originating at 
the New York PBS studios, premiered 
in March and will continue through- 
out 1993, featuring Billy Joel, Joe Cock- 
er and the music of the Beatles, among. 
others. . . . Dwight Yoakam teamed up 
with actor Peter Fonda to produce a 
play in L.A. called Southern Rapture... 
You might be surprised: Garth Brooks 
and Madonna were the only music 
stars to make the top-ten list of the 
most fan mail received in 1992. . . . 
The digital compact cassette is here to 
stay. All major labels now either haye 
manufacturing plants already operat- 
ing or they're building them—even 
Sony, in spite of the minidisc, . . . Pearl 
Jam is in the studio in Seattle record- 
ing the follow-up to Ten and trying to 
stay true to its roots, even after a qua- 
druple-platinum debut. Frontman Ed- 
die Vedder told a crowd last winter, “I 
want to give Marky Mark the fucking 
finger. Anyone can drop their pants 
and get attention. Are you a fucking 
singer? Let's see some talent." Mean- 
time, Marky is still dropping his pants 
onstage and in print. id n' Play is 
developing a TV series and working 
on House Party Ш. . . . Look for an 
Elvis documentary on ТУ in the fall. 
Elvis in Hollywood will cover his first 
screen tes! 1956 through his Army 
induction. . . . Gang Starr's Guru has a 
rap-jazz LP out that includes jazzmen 
Roy Ayers, Courtney Pine and Branford 
Marsalis with hip-hoppers N'Dea Dav- 
enport and Carlene Anderson. . . . Eddie 
Murphy plans to hit the road this sum- 
mer doing both comedy and mu- 
ЖЕЛДЕР ¡ally, Motley Crüe's Nikki Sixx 
has described the band's new LP, "Til 
Death Do Us Part, as “diverse and ma- 
ture." With song titles like Hooligan's 
Holiday and Hammered, how can we 
doubt him? — BARBARA NELLIS 


concert, the extended metaphor about 
the labor of ending a marriage—every 
one of his oblique but decipherable tales 
of not quite getting it together could be 
summed up by the title of the first track: 
Trying to Tell You I Don't Know. Yet John- 
ston's reedy Midwestern twang, the 
open-ended detail of the lyrics and the 
lithe, sly music add up to a study in 
bringing confusion under control—and 
in loving your life as a beautiful mess. 
Speaking of which, Beautiful Mess lives 
up to its title—it’s punkier, more naked. 
In songs like / Live in a Nice House (соп- 
ceived just afier he signed his deal, 1 
guess) and Blood Is Thicker than Water 
(ahh, dysfunction). Forrest harbors no 
hope of transcending his confusion. He 
just wants to make music out of it. And 
he gets close enough for rock and roll. 


FAST CUTS: On The Way of the Vaselines: A 
Complete History (Sub Pop), young Scots 
Eugene Kelly and Frances McKee poke 
fun at sex roles and much more in a 
completely amateurish, completely capti- 
vating hodgepodge of silly songs. On. 
Eugenius’ Oomalama (Atlantic), Kelly has 
broken up with McKee. He rocks more, 
but you know what? He's less interesting. 


NELSON GEORGE 


Hip-hop aesthetics are in a constant 
flux, Afrocentric agitators, gangstas and 
dance hall smoothies are among the 
many subsets that have characterized 
rap in recent years. One of the more vi- 
tal strains of rap has been the п: 
tongues, a style originally associated 
New York-based acts such as A Tribe 
Called Quest, Jungle Brothers and De 
La Soul. The native tongues popularized 
jazz samples, obscure arty references, a 
non-hard-core attitude and a sly, irrev- 
erent humor. The latest native-tongues 
rap group to emerge is the Pharcyde. 
This quartet of rappers and producers 
taps into a deep catalog of jazz-funk 
grooves to create a slinky, soulful collec- 
tion. On Bizarre Ride ı (Delicious Vinyl/ 
Atla the rhyming is flowing and 
fresh, marked by a conversational d 
ery that sounds as comfortable mentio 


ing black ex-porno starlet Heather 
Hunter as jazz giant Thelonious Monk 
Listen to 4 Better or 4 Worse, as well as to 


Soul Flower, On the DL (for you поп- 
urban dwellers, DL is slang for "down 
low") and Passing Me By. The Pharcyde's 
musical consistency makes this one of 
the best rap debuts of the year. 


FAST CUTS: Just Another Girl on the IRT is 
a film, but it could easily have been a 
new 12-inch disc by Queen Latifah or 
Monie Love. Written and directed by a 
black woman, Leslie Harris, this drama 
looks at the life of Chantel, a bright, 
loud-mouthed New York teenager— 
someone we rarely see on-screen. 


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WIRED 


THE SKY'S THE LIMIT 


For decades we've been hearing that di- 
rect broadcast satellites are just around 
the corner. Now we're telling you they 
really are. Starting in 1994. DirecTv, 
a subsidiary of Hughes Communi 
tions, will be filling your TV 

screen with your 
favorite 
cable 
pro- 


gramming and more movies more often. 
"To receive the signals, you'll first need to 
spend about $700 on a party-pizza-sized 
satellite dish made by Thomson Con- 
sumer Electronics. Take it from us, it will 
be worth it. Not only will you receive 
near-laser-disc-quality picture and digi- 
tal sound, you'll also get at least 50 chan- 
nels of pay-per-view entertainment, in- 
cluding hot new films that run every half 
hour. (Rumor has it that feature films 
will be available through DBS before 
they hit video stores.) In any case, rates 
should be cable-competitive and billable 
directly to your credit card. 


THE INTERACTIVE ACTION 


Television wants to get interactive with 
the help of the compact disc. No longer 
merely a music medium, the CD now 
carries computer codes for storing mul- 
timedia home entertainment. Video- 
game companies such as Sega and 
Nintendo are battling for a portion of 
this hot new market along with such 
electronics manufacturers as Philips, 
Pioneer, Commodore and 3DO. In a 
nutshell, multimedia CD lets you manip- 
ulate full-motion video and surround- 
sound audio by means of specially de- 
signed hardware. Although the CDs 
we've seen resemble enhanced 16-bit 
video games, the format's potential is im- 
pressive: You'll be able to alter the plots 


Where & How to Buy on page 178. 


of movies as you watch them and edit 
your own music videos. We've even 
heard that virtual reality games are in 
the works. Current CDs sell for about 
$60, with players priced from $300 to 
$700. Surprise, surprise—most of the in- 
teractive systems are incompatible. 


to similarly formatted stations as you 
reach other cities. It will also sound an 
alert or turn your radio on for weather 


RADIOS WISE UP 


We've reported on smart phones, TVs 
and houses. Now there are smart radios. 
The intelligence comes from a new 
computer transmission technology 
called. Radio Broadcast Data Sys- 
tems, which 500-plus radio stations 
nationwide are expected to offer 
by year's end. With RDS, you'll no 
longer have to rely on disc jockeys 
to reveal song tiles and artists" 
names. That information and 
more will now appear in the form 
of messages on your dial. Strictly a 


С 


А 


mie d 


or traffic warnings and offer alternative 
routes to freeway jams. Not bad for 


rock-and-roll fan? Circuits will something that adds only about $100 to 
scan the airwaves, stopping only the cost of a radio. To see this system in 
at programming you choose. action, check out Philips $850 DC964 


When you're traveling, RDS will 
automatically tune your car stereo 


car stereo or models from Blaupunkt, 
Denon and Kenwood. 


WILD THINGS 


Sony's 100-disc CDP-CX100 CD chonger (shown below) will orgonize your 
compact disc collection once and for oll. Aside from providing direct access to individ- 
ual CD tracks, the CX100 lets you categorize discs by format, such as rock, dassicol 
or country. You con also program the CX100 to play about 75 hours of uninterrupt- 
ed music. Look for it in stores in September, priced at about $1200. e Not to be 
outdone, Pioneer recently announced the CAC-V3000, a 300-disc CD changer that 
con play music for up to nine days straight. The price: $6000. e On the home-theater 
front, JVC has unveiled с video recording system for high-definition television called 
W.VHS. In oddition to creating topes with ће same top-quality picture as HDTV, W-VHS 
allows you to record two programs simultoneously. HDTV ond W-VHS are already 
available in Japan, with the W-VHS ployer-recorder selling for the equivalent of $4800. 
They're expected to arrive here loter this decode. Also new from JVC is a 4.7-inch 
movie disc that offers a picture with the high resolution of current 12-inch laser discs. 
It will be at least another year before the new minimovies are ploying in a home 
near you, so the 
costs of both 
hardware and 
software re- 
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By STEPHEN RANDALL 


ITS OF 


he office of the Joint Net- 
announced that for the 
foreseeable future all vacant hours on 
TV must be filled with some sort of 60 
Minutes knockoff. Of course, there's a 
down side to having a dozen news- 


ven a TV viewer with no outside 
at all may have trouble keeping 
straight 20 different on-camera hosts 
and dozens of reporters and correspon- 
dents, especially with new shows pop- 
ping up monthly. Luckily, there's help 
Thanks to the following guide, you too 
can join in office conversations and ap- 
pear knowledgeable about TV news- 
magazines you didn’t have time to watch. 

Why is TV in love with newsmagazines? 

"Think green. Not ecologically but fi- 
nancially. TV news shows are cheap to 
produce. And more important, they're 
zapper-friendly. As Andrew Heyward, 
former executive producer of CBS's 48 
Hours, says, “Unlike a drama show, you 
don't have to watch the whole hour to 
get something out of it." 

Pm loyal to my demographic group. What's 
the right TV newsmagazine for me? 

We have bad news. Television news- 
magazines are designed to be inter- 
changeable. Any могу on 20/20 could 
casily appear (and sometimes does) on 
Dateline NBC. All the shows—induding 
syndicated tabloid shows such as Hard 
Copy and Inside Edition—belong to a se- 
cret club where cach weck's story ideas 
are put into a hat and pulled ош at ran- 
dom. If everyone would cooperate, we 
could have one 15-hour newsmagazine 
show per week and be done with it. 

But don't the hosts give each show its per- 
sonality? My favorite show, for instance, fea- 
tures two anchors—a man and а woman— 
who engage in awkward banter and make 
small talk with the correspondents 

While not all TV newsmagazines use 
stilted coed anchor teams, it’s clearly the 
preferred trend. 20/20's Hugh Downs 
and Barbara Walters started it, but the 
quintessential team is Sam Donaldson 
and Diane Sawyer of Prime Time Live 
Their antichemistry is so apparent tha 
they can't even sit together on the same 
set without alienating sensitive viewers. 
ABC takes no chances and now insists 
that each anchor be in a different city 
during the broadcast 

Why do anchors chat with reporters afier 
each story? 

Never forget the most important rule 
of TV journalism: The correspondent 
must never outshine the anchor. Having 
the host ask a pre-scripted, s 
trating question shows Ате! 
charge. Besides, it forces the r 
show up for work at least once a week. 


е shows on the air in any given! 


20/20 vision: ratings versus journalism. 


Understanding the 
TV newsmagazine— 
without a TV set. 


Don't newsmagazine shows attract Ihe best 
and the brightest journalists? 

Absolutely. 20/20 recently stole Cath- 
erine Grier away from CNN. The former 
judge told reporters she was joining the 
show because she wants “to learn how to 
report.” As far as we can tell, she’s the 
best-paid trainee at AB 

Why does Steve Kroft ask such easy ques- 
lions when he's interviewing hig neusmakers 
such as Bill and Hillary or Woody Allen? 

Major figures in crisis have enough 
problems without facing a rude reporter. 
Anyway, NBC is paying Kroft under the 
table to make Jay Leno look like a savvy 
interviewer. 

Who's TV's hardest-working journalist? 

We vote for Hugh Downs. He lives in 
Arizona, flies to New York where ABC 
maint an apartment for him, reads a 
few intros, talks to Barbara, cashes his 
check and flies home. 

What does the "20/20" sign-ofj — We're in 

touch, so you be in touch”—mean? What are 
they in touch with, exactly? 
Hugh is in touch with his agent for 
citing him such a cushy gig. Barbara is 
touch with every major Hollywood 
publicist, trying to figure out why Oprah 
got Michael Jackson and she didn't 

With so many neusmagazines now on TV, 
are we in danger of running out of stories? 

Not so long as producers can turn to 
the movie listings for inspiration. Do the 
real-life parents behind Lorenzo's Oil look 
anything like Susan Sarandon or Nick 
Nolte? Disc inating viewers need to 


know. Did some psycho parents leave 
their kids unattended for a week? That's 
a good story, too, but don't forget to in- 
dude a scene from Home Alone 2, Reality 
is much more appealing when Macaulay 
Culkin makes a guest shot. 

What's each show's major contribution to 
journalism? 

That's easy. 60 Minutes created the 
idea of journalist as hero, doing battle 
with evil big business and nefarious 
politicians. Prime Time Live pioneered 
the hidden camera, so we could watch 
rotting meat being repackaged as fresh. 
A Current Affair cornered the market ear- 
ly on clever re-creations of actual events. 
And Dateline NBC found an inyentive use 
for leftover Fourth of July fireworks. 

Are we getting good journalism from TV 
newsmagazine shows? 


Sometimes, but it’s often hidden. On 
Street Stories, correspondent Deborah 
Norville did a half hour report on the 


curr 
frightening stuff—perfeci for TV 一 and 
Street Stories made it seem a: 
everywhere, like country music and Gap 
T-shirts. Only 20 seconds of the report 
discussed the main reason for the in- 
crease in TB: the large number of AIDS 
patients who contract the disease. And 
much of that information was buried in 
idle chitchat with host Ed Bradley. 

But what about the experts? These shows 
interview bona fide experts, right? 

If you needed a bona fide expert on 
apples treated with chemicals, wouldn't 
you turn to Meryl Streep? 60 Minutes 
did. OF course, it once passed off a Los 
Angeles-based party columnist as an ex- 
pert on real estate. It’s important to be 
creative. 

Do TV newsmags have any real power? 

Ask the people at Audi. They never 
fully recovered from a 60 Minutes hit job 
in 1986, even though they were later 
vindicated by government safety agen- 
cies in the U.S., Canada and Japan. Or 
ask the folks who make three-wheeled 
all-terrain vehicles, cellular phones, the 
Suzuki Samurai and GM trucks. 

How do TV neusmags stack up? 

The best: 48 Hours. The worst: a tie 
between the dreaded Current Affair and 
Dateline NBC. 

1% nol fair to lump trashy tabloid shows 
such as "Current Affair” and “Hard Copy" 
with respectable network broadcasts such as 
“20/20” and “Prime Time Live,” is it? 

Put it this way: Which show featured 
an exorcism? (It was 20/20.) And which 
one claimed that the hottest new wend 
in psychiatry was treating victims of sa- 
tanic abuse? (Prime Time Live, of course.) 

Isn't there any important difference between 
“Hard Copy” and "20/20"? 

Sure. One is 30 minutes longer than 
the other. 


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BOOKS 


By DIGBY DIEHL 


HYPERBOLE Has so overloaded book re- 
viewing that when an exceptional book 
shows up, there are no adjectives left for 
a reviewer to use. Admittedly, we're bi- 
ased: PLAYBOY has been a fan of Bob Sha- 
cochis writing since 1982, when we pub- 
pud his short story Lord Short Shoe 

Wants the Monkey. lt was his first national 
exposure. Now comes his novel Swim- 
ming in the Volcano (Scribner's), one of the 
finest we have read in years. This book 
takes a serious look at contemporary life 
by way of fictional characters in а Ca- 
ribbean setting. Shacochis uses his su- 
perb command of language to explore 
the ethical and emotional complexities 
beneath the surface of everyday events. 
Most significant, he embraces big themes 
with energy and confidence 

In a prologue that s this novel its 
title, American economist Mitchell Wil- 
son accompanies a local forest ranger, 
Godfred Ballantyne, on a climb to the 
top of an active volcano, Mount 
Soufriere, on the Caribbean island of St. 
Catherine. Although the volcano has not 
erupted since 1902, recent activity has 
prompted scientists to install monitoring 
equipment along the rim. Inside the 
crater, a lake of warm rainwater has 
formed and. in order to test the temper- 
ature and measure the water level, Wil- 
son and Ballantyne swim out to an island 
of hot magma in the center. Wilson's 
swim in the deceptive warmth of this po- 
tentially explosive volcano is a symbolic 
foreshadowing of the rest of the story. 

Sure enough, Wilson’s lethargic island 
life is soon shattered when his ex-girl- 
friend sends a telegram announcing her 
imminent arrival after an absence of five 
years. Johanna Woods brings with her a 
lot of emotional baggage and $20,000 
worth of her not-quite-ex-husband's 
drug money. Within days, her spirited, 
reckless, often Seel, enhanced pres- 
ence wrenches Wilson out of his torpor 
and into the maelstrom of island pol- 
itics. Then this novel, which is often 
filled with wit and hilarity, turns dark 
and violent. 

What is so mesmerizing about Swim- 
ming in the Volcano is not just the 
Caribbean Casablanca romance, or the 
convoluted maneuvers of various island 
powers, or even the enchanting scenes of 
St. Catherine life told in native patois. 
What draws the reader in is the range 
and flexibility of Shacochis' prose, which 
captures the languid images of island 
life. St. Catherine becomes to Shacochis 
what Dublin was for Joyce. You may 
think such a comparison grandiose, but 
there are echoes in this book of Graham 
Greene and Hemingway, too. As Sha- 

38 Cochis whirls through “the global pil- 


Swimming in the Volcano. 


Explosive stuff trom Bob 
Shacochis, Robert Parker 
and P D. James. 


lage" of the Caribbean, he confronts 
ра уелер drugs, multicultural collisions, 

hird World politics and the anguish of 
a moral man trying to be heard in the 
roar of an amoral universe. Whether 
you believe fiction should speak to larger 
truths or you simply take joy in the 
music of extraordinary writing, you will 
want to read this book. 

Last fall, when A. N. Wilson's biogra- 
phy, Jesus: ALife (Norton), was published, 
we missed reviewing it. It me your at- 
tention. Ostensibly, this book is an at- 
tempt to separate the mythological Jesus 
of Christian faiths from "the Jesus of his- 
tory" But Wilson quickly admits that 
what little we know about Jesus from 
non-Christian sources "could be written 
on the back of a postcard and does not 
prove that he actually existed." 

Wilson examines each biblical story 
about Jesus lile in light of the chaotic re- 
ligious and political situation during the 
Roman occupation of the Holy Land. By 
hunting down the meaning of each clue 
in the text, he gives us a deeper under- 
standing of the intentions different con- 
tributors to the New Testament had in 
skewing the mythology of Jesus. The pic- 
ture of Jesus emerging from his analy: 
is that of "a recognizable Jew of the first. 
century . . . a Galilean hasid or holy 
man." Although it may alarm some to 
learn that elements of Christian ritual 
have no basis in either the New Testa- 
ment or history, Wilson's book is impor- 
tant because it provides new insight into 


the philosophical and religious back- 
grounds of Jesus’ teachings. 

Some lighter fiction reading this 
month includes Robert B. Parker's Poper 
Doll (Putnam), Jazz Funeral (Fawcett), by 
Julie Smith, and Trey Ellis’ Home Repairs 
(Simon & Schuster). Parker follows 
Spenser through a murder investigation 
that finds the alleged victim still alive. 
Smith, one of the most talented of the 
new crop of mystery writers, shows us a 
dark side of the New Orleans Jazz Fes- 
tival. Ellis is a witty African-American 
writer who lets us read the hilarious sex 
diary of Austin McMillan, certainly the 
horniest young man since Alex Portnoy, 


BOOK BAG 


The Children of Men (Knopf), by Р D. 
James: Set in the year 2021, James! un- 
expected and inspired departure from 
detective stories to science fiction tackles 
the end of the human race. 

Love Is Strange: Stories of Postmodern Ro- 
mence (Norton), edited by Joel Rose and 
Catherine Texier: Sixteen writers pre- 
sent love stories ranging from tender to 
outrageous, proving that in the age of 
safe sex, romance is alive. 

Ranters 8 Crowd Pleasers: Punk in Pop Mu- 
sic, 1977-92 (Doubleday), by Greil Mar- 
cus: Rocks most imaginative theorist 
traces the legacy of the Sex Pistols. 

Bluesman (Faber and Faber), by Andre 
Dubus ІП: His much anticipated first 
novel about coming of age in the Sixties 
lives up to Dubus' impressive reputation 
as a short-story writer. 

Black Studies, Rap and the Academy (U. of 
Chicago), by Houston A. Baker, Jr.: The 
former president of the Modern Lan- 
guage Association and a leading black 
intellectual offers a thought-provoking 
and eloquent defense of rap. 

Bernard of Hollywood's Marilyn (St. Mar- 
tin's), by Susan Bernard: Our December 
1966 Playmate has compiled a mar- 
velously nostalgic photo album of her fa- 
ther's loving photographs of MM 

Winter Prey (Putnam), by John Sand- 
ford: The fifth Lucas Davenport mys- 
tery, set in the dark Wisconsin wood: 
an intense thriller with an unlikely killer. 

Operation Shylock: A Confession (Simon & 
Schuster), by Philip Roth: In this spy 
thriller, Philip Roth himself discovers 
he's being impersonated by a stranger 
who could be his twin. Another inventive 
t from the author of the Zuckerman 
trilogy and Portnoy's Complaint. 

The Shark-Infested Custard (Underwood- 
Miller), by Charles Willeford: This hilar- 
ious crime story takes place in Miami in 
the Seventies. Four single guys who are 
tying to get laid find a murder instead. 


4992 LA Goa; 


TIMELESS 
SIMPLICITY 
AND 
ULTRA-SOFT 
VINTAGE 
LEATHER. 
FOR THE 


COMFORT OF 


A BYGONE 
ERA. 


GEAR 


40 


MEN 


M ost of the women I know can 
vividly remember moments when 
they felt picked on or threatened by 
anonymous men in public places. And 
that aspect of female life makes existence 
more difficult for all of us today, male 
and female. 

The tales these women tell are not 
vague or feeble fiction: They can give 
you the exact times, dates and locations 
of various incidents, as well as complete 
descriptions of what happened to them, 
what was said, what they did. 

As you listen to them talk, you can feel 
their anger and their fear, and you have 
to recognize the gravity of their charges. 
You know that in certain respects, these 
women have been unnerved, and that 
their fears will not disappear simply be- 
cause you wish they would. 

Tam not saying that all female fears of 
men are justified, or that men are dan- 
gerous by definition. Nor am 1 claiming 
that men run no risks of their own on 
the street. But I take seriously the stories 
of intimidation and anxiety that I hear 
from women. And I am convinced that 
there are things we can do as men to be- 
come more helpful and protective of the 
women in our lives. 

It's undeniable that a small minority 
of violent and uncontrolled men have 
engaged in despicable conduct toward 
some of the women they encounter, and 
that such conduct has scarred those 
women and darkened the image of all 
men in this culture. Our image, of 
course, has not been helped by the inces- 
sant media focus on violent men; biased 
and loaded media coverage increases 
women's fear of men. 

Whether valid or not, whether fair 
Or not, there are umes when a man's 
mere presence can cause a woman con- 
sternation. Allow me to ask you two basic 
questions: 

(1) Have you done your job as a man 
by changing your public behavior so that 
women feel less threatened by you? 

(2) Have you been mentally lazy when 
it comes to this subject, and have you 
simply forgotten to look at life from the 
female side of the street? 

Ло be male is a different experience 
from being female. No matter how we 
might try to argue about it, our experi- 
ence walking down a street is not the 
equivalent of the female experience. 

So what I want to share with you here 


By ASA BABER 


THE FEMALE SIDE 
OF THE STREET 


is my code of conduct in this arena. 1 ask 
you to think about it. Because I know 
that men can do better than we have 
been doing. We can be less careless and 
more supportive of women in general as 
they function in public, as they join the 
American work force in increasing num- 
bers апа as they commute to and from 
their homes and their jobs. 

Here are some of my rules: 

There 15 safety in space, so on the street, 
give women space. 1f 1 am walking behind 
a woman on a lightly populated street, 1 
will either pass by her quickly or stay a 
decent interval behind her. If the street 
is empty, I will often cross to the other 
side to give her a stronger sense of space 
and safety. Even in crowds, 1 avoid walk- 
ing closely beside a woman for long. And 
in what may seem like an exaggerated 
sense of concern to some of you, 1 admit 
that I give women space in elevators, 
з, subway stops, hotel lobbies, 
restaurants and office buildings. 

On some occasions, there is safety in close- 
ness. Yes, 1 know I am contradicting the 
first rule in my code of conduct. But this 
is the real world, where nothing is sim- 
ple. There are umes when, if it looks like 
someone is about to hassle a woman in a 
public place, your presence can make a 
difference—and you don't necessarily 
have to say a thing. By standing closer to 


her than you normally would, you are 
indicating that she is not alone and that 
you might defend her, which can defuse 
a situation before it gets out of hand. It is 
a courteous, chivalric thing to do. 

See yourself through her ejes. What do 
you look like to her? For cxample, to see 
myself through a woman's eyes, I first 
have to remind myself that I rarely ap- 
pear as a well-dressed and affluent man. 
It is not my style. And for better or 
worse, most women in a big-city environ- 
ment tend to trust the well-dressed man 
more than the unconventionally attired 
one. So when | wear casual clothes, the 
price I pay for that on Chicago's Michi- 
gan Avenue is that I look different from 
the average executive, and looking dif- 
ferent can threaten some people. My ap- 
pearance may not seem to be that of a 
safe or predictable man. So that is even 
more reason for me to be careful and to 
make no false assumptions about how I 
might be perceived. 

Unless a woman gives you a clear signal 
that she wants to talk to you, the street is not 
the place to introduce yourself. Nothing irri. 
tates me more than to see some suppos- 
edly slick-talking guy trying to hustle a 
woman who does not want to be hustled. 
These days, the goal of most women on 
the street is to get from one place to an- 
other with safety and efficiency. They are 
not cruising for dates or asking for at- 
tention or оп the street to flirt. So unless 
I've been spoken to first in a public 
venue, 1 do not talk to women I have 
never met. Sure, [ am attracted to many 
women and sometimes have the illusion 
that I could be a friendly guy with an 
ability to break the ice. But so what? 
L know that those passing moments of 
sel£inflation are precisely the moments 
when I have forgotten my job as a man 
on the street today. 

My job and your job, 1 should say. 
Which is to wish all women the ultimate 
in health and safety, and to do what we 
can to help them lead productive and 
unmolested lives. 

It is not too much to ask of ourselves. 
And if we take this code of conduct seri- 
ously, as we should, it will be well worth 
all our effort. Because it will help us 
build a much-needed bridge across that 
sometimes forbidding canyon we call the 


gender gap. 


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42 


WOMEN 


I was doing squat-thrusts at the gym 
and was working ир а nice sweat 


“Oh, my God!” she yelled. “Му father 
sexually abused me. 1 can't believe it!" 

"Neither can 1,” I gasped as I dropped 
the barbell on my foot. "How do you 
know this? Did you dredge up buried 
memories? Did he confess?” 

“] took a quiz іп a magazine. 1 scored 
ninety-one out of a hundred and have 
the dassic symptoms. I'm plagued by 
feelings of intense shame. 1 feel guilty 
about everything, especially sex. I have 
low self-esteem and always feel I'm 
wrong. I am incapable of sustaining а 
constructive relationship with a man. I 
have chronic nightmares. My childhood 
memories range from fuzzy to nonexis- 
tent. I suffer from frequent bouts of se- 
vere depression. There's no doubt about 
it, I was an abused child." 

“Come on, Cleo, I have exactly the 
same symptoms ” 

“Unbelievable! You were abused, too. 
No wonder we're friends." 

So then I told her she was basically de- 
scribing every woman I know. She said 1 
should stop being in denial. I said ГИ bet 
you a hundred dollars that every woman 
in the gym right now has exactly the 
same symptoms. She took me up on it. 1 


lost. The woman who ran the juice bar 
said 


she remembered her childhood 
nd that her husband was the 
ig that ever happened to her 
Cleo demanded I pay up. So I browbeat 
the juice-bar woman until she admitted 
that she thought her husband might be 
having an affair and that her memories 
of sixth grade were nonexistent 

“There, you see? It's all a crock,” 1 
crowed. 

“АПТ see, 
abuse thing is more widespread than we 
ever imagined. What the hell is wrong 
with fathers, or uncles, or whoever the 
hell destroys the lives of innocent girls?” 

"It's a crock,” I reiterated. “It’s the dis- 
ease of the month. The authors of these 
articles and books make the symptoms 
sufficiently vague so that they fit almost 
everyone, which means almost everyone 
will run to the bookstore and gobble up 
these books and the authors can buy as 
many Benzes as they want. A crock” 

"If you say crock again ГИ shoot you,” 
said Cleo. 

“Sure it's a crock,” said Rita at dinner 


By CYNTHIA HEIMEL 


РМ ABUSED, 
YOU’RE ABUSED 


that night, “unless all women in the 
United States are victims of child abuse, 
which can't be true. Can it?” 

“In a way I'm relieved,” said Cleo. 
“Гуе always liked my father.” 

“But something's wrong somewhere," 
said Rita. “If we weren't all abused, how 
come we're plagued by shame, guilt, 
depression, low self-esteem and bad 
relationships?" 

We sat for a while in silent melancholy. 
We asked our waitress if she had any 
ideas. Her idea was that we should drink 
some margaritas and forget about it. 
"This seemed sensible 

“Bur there is one thing I’ve been won- 
dering," said our waitress as she brought 
our drinks. “1 read in the paper that un- 
til they're nine years old. girls are just as 
happy and self-confident as boys. But 
then, when they hit that magic age, the 
long downhill slide begins. They start 
doing lousy in math, they go spastic in 
gym class, they generally fall apart. How 
come?” 

“Simple,” said Cleo. “That's when they 
get abused.” 

“If you say abused again ГИ shoot 
you,” said Rita. 

“Shut up a second,” I said. An idea 
was fighting through the margarita haze. 

“OK, I've just figured it out. You know 
how we all come from dysfunctional 


families, but some families are really dys- 
functional, so that Dad gets to do what- 
ever he wants even if it's really disgust- 
ing and everybody shuts up and 
pretends everything is fine? Well, isn’t it 
the same for society in general? Doesn't 
our society systematically abuse its w 
en and we pretend everything is fin 

“Boy, you are really drunk,” said Cleo. 

“So you're saying our entire society is 
dysfunctional?” asked Rita. 

"Well, isn't it? Little girls are taught to 
be passive. We're given dolls and stupid 
tea sets and we aren't allowed to yell ог 
get dirty or fight. Nobody cares what we 
do so long as we look cute doing it, so we 
become obsessed with appearance over 
performance. Sugar and spice and 
everything nice. 

"Whereas little boys are active. They 
get to play in Little League and build 
forts. They get filthy, scream like ban- 
shees and beat the shit out of one anoth- 
ек And Mom and Dad just smile and 
"Boys will be boys." Snips and sn: 
puppy dogs' tails. 

“Well, so big deal,” said Cleo. 

"Of course it's a big deal," I yelled at 
her. "It's abuse. If you grow up with all 
your natural aggressive instincts beaten 
out of you, if you're not allowed to be 
competitive or active or express your 
anger, what do you think happens? You 
feel helpless and out of control. Which 
makes you depressed and full of self- 
loathing, you moron!" 

*Looks like you dor't have much of a 


and 


said, 
“But what about that nine-year-old 
thing?" asked our hovering waitress. 

“Isn't nine when we become those ob- 
noxious creatures who giggle and whis- 
per and pass notes in class and never do 
their homework>” asked Cleo. 

"Nine is when our hormones start act- 
ing up, when we start getting those litle 
mounds on our chests," said Rita. 

"Nine is when we become obsessed 
with boys," I said. “Nothing matters any- 
more but what they think of us." 

"And we want them to like us so much 
that we start acting the way they want 
us to, the way we've been propagan- 
dized,” said our waitress. "Stupid, pas- 
sive, nonthreatening." 

“I told you that we were all abused," 
said Cleo. 

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THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR 


AX fier sex I like to lounge around nude. 
My new girlfriend feels fine about re- 
maining topless, but she's quick to pull 
on her panties. She says she “just feels 
more comfortable that way.” But I love 
gazing at every part of her body. I've 
asked her to stay naked, but she’s not in- 
to it. What gives?—I. P, Forest Hills, 
New York. 

Chances are she doesn't consider her pri- 
vates to be as attractive as you do. We're told 
that men are uncomfortable about nudity be- 
cause of their concern with penis size. We al- 
ways thought it was central air conditioning. 
It turas out that women ате more anxious 
about genitals than men are. At least that’s 
what University of Kansas researchers 
Rhonda Reinholiz and Charlene Muchlen- 
hard discovered in a recent study of 320 
college students, half men, half women. 
Compared with the men, the women felt si, 
nificantly less comfortable with their geni- 
tals, and with their lovers’. But there's hope 
‘for men like you who enjoy seeing their lovers 
au naturel. The study also showed that the 
women who felt most comfortable with their 
nudity were also the most sexually experi- 
enced. In other words, the more often she re- 
moves her undies for sex, the more likely she 
is to leave them off 


Vue never scen anyone use a condom in 
an X-rated video, Aren't the actors afraid 
of AIDS?—K, I., Tempe, Arizona. 
Condoms are not entirely absent from sex 
videos, but they're rare. Porn performers are 
indeed concerned about AIDS and other sex- 
ually transmitted infections. Some have ar- 
rived at a creative solution to the occupa- 
tional hazard they face: an expanded form of 
sexual exclusivity. There aren't many profes- 
sionals in porn, and those who make a living 
at it generally know one another and work 
together regularly. Several performers of our 
acquaintance work only with a select group 
of actors who they know have tested disease 
free. If no one has sex outside the group, then 
no one catches anything. Of course, this re- 
quires more trust than а monogamous rela- 
tionship, where you have to worry about 
only one lover stepping out. This type of ar- 
rangement is not unique to the porn indus- 
try. We heard about а university marching 
band whose members took a similar pledge 
and reportedly made beautiful music togeth- 
ек The tuba player was supposedly a legend 
in his own clef. If you like this combination of 
variety and exclusivity, you might raise the 
idea at your office, healih club or condo as- 
sociation. Let us know how things work out. 


Some audio dealers insist the only way 
10 audi 

with a single pair of speakers at a time 
Most audio shops display dozens of 
speakers in each listening room. What's 


the best way to choose speakers?—E. T., 
Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. 

The best auditioning facility is the room in 
your home where you'll be listening to music. 
Any store worth its woofers will let you take 
опе or two pairs of speakers home for a trial 
marriage. No matter how many speakers fill 
the room, а store is a dismal place for listen- 
ing, It's true that a demo room with a single 
pair of speakers permits proper positioning 
for listening. However, it’s difficult to com- 
pare different speakers. Acoustic memory is 
brief. In multiple-speaker rooms, you can do 
instant comparisons of poorly positioned 
speakers. Ultimately, listening in the store 
provides only a rough clue to speaker sound. 
Among comparable speakers, room acoustics 
affect speaker sound more than any other 
variable. 


Whether for business or pleasure, my 
trips overseas get off to a rough start be- 
cause of jet lag. I've read about dozens 
of cures. Do any of them work?—S. D., 
New York, New York. 

Your body uses several systems to reset your 
internal clock. Some travelers swear by the 
famed jet-lag diet described in Dr. Charles 
Ehret and Lynne Waller Scanlen's “Over- 
coming Jet Lag.” More recent research con- 
tends that controlling the light reaching your 
eyes winds your clock. Wear eyeshades or 
dark welder's glasses while traveling if you'll 
arrive at your destination at night. Try to be 
in as much light as possible while traveling if 
the sun will be up when you get to where 
you're going. Once there, spend an hour in 
the afternoon sun when possible, or under 
very bright fluorescent lights. One airline is 
pushing aroma therapy. It hands out small 
vials of different scents to be sniffed at 
appropriate times during your journey. An 


ILLUSTRATION BY PATER SATO 


overlooked contribution to jet lag is noise. 
Buy noise-canceling headphones (about 
$1000 a pair) or use tightly fitting earplugs. 
These reduce stress and help you arrive 
refreshed. Finally, some experts recommend 
making love your first night back home. 
We're not making this up. They claim sex is 
an excellent way of telling your body every- 
thing’s back to normal. 


Do sex surrogates sull e: 
they therapists or prostitutes? 
St, Paul, Minnesota. 

Surrogates are still with us, primarily on 
the West Coast—especially in Los Angeles, 
San Diego and the San Francisco Bay area. 
“They are also in а few other places across 
the country,” according to Adele Kennedy, a 
longtime Los Angeles surrogate and surro- 
gate trainer. Some women who сай them- 
selves surrogates are real therapists. Others 
are prostitutes. The way to tell the difference, 
Kennedy says, is that surrogate therapists 
never advertise. They accept only referrals 
from psychologists or sex therapists and are 
an integral part of the treatment team of 
Iherapisi, patient and surrogate. In addi- 
lion, they never jump right into bed with 
clients. “Our emphasis is on sensuality, not 
sexuality,” Kennedy says. “I often sec a client 
regularly for months before we have inter- 
course, if that becomes appropriate.” 


In the February Playboy Advisor you de- 
dare that a stereo television set пог 
equipped with a dbx chip is a fraud or 
lemon. I believe that the magazine is 
misinformed. Thomson Consumer Elec- 
tronics [the maker of RCA, Proscan and 
GE TVs] manufactures and markets 
stereo TVs with and without dbx noise- 
reduction circuitry. Some of our stereo 
models include advanced technology 
such as Dolby ProLogic Surround and 
Hughes SRS Sound Retrieval systems. 
We also developed the patented XS 
Stereo technology—a circuit that de- 
codes and sepa 
same time as it reduces noise. The XS 
system does not use dbx noise reduction, 
с stereo sound from 
n, closely spaced 
speakers. Furthermore, XS Stereo pro- 
vides directional realism, the phenome- 
non of sound appearing to move from 
one area to another. While some peo- 
ple have the impression that there are 
mandated technologies for reproducing 
stereo in TVs, there is no such legal 
requirement.—James Harper, Thomson 
Consumer Electronics, Indianapolis, 
Indiana. 

We stand corrected. If a person plans on 
hooking a TV into a home entertainment s 
tem with separate speakers, he should look 
for a dbx system. But someone looking for 


5- 


45 


PLAYBOY 


interesting sound in a one-piece unit should 
keep his ears open to alternate, innovative 
technologies. XS Stereo does create what one 
reviewer called a sound stage—an aural pres- 
ence wider than the spacing between speakers. 
Check it out. 


МІ new girlfriend is terrific, except 
that she keeps talking about her ex-hus- 
band of eight years. They were high 
school sweethearts, and she hasn't been 
in any other serious relationships, so this 
guy represents most of what she knows 
about men, love and sex. But after sever- 
al months, her “ex” rap is getting old 
and I'm getting impatient. My buddies 
tell me to hang in there, but chilling out. 
is leaving me cold. What do you say?— 
R. O., Dubuque, lowa. 

Many people carry baggage from past re- 
lationships. The trick is learning to leave it. 
Here's our rule: Women are free to talk 
about ex-boyfriends or ex-husbands for one 
or two dates (though why they should want 
to is beyond us). If they aren't talking about 
us by the third, the relationship is destined 
to go nowhere. If you want to be this wom- 
an’s therapist, go ahead. But with the ghost 
of her ex haunting your new romance, you're 
in danger of winding up as a transitional 
fing on her way to some future relationship. 


Tin recently divorced and I've started 
answering personal ads, They should 
call those things impersonals. On three 
occasions I've arranged. what I Шоир 
would be dates, but afier five-minute 
look-overs, all three women said it 
wouldn't work and brushed me off. 
They weren't beauties and I'm no beast. 
Are vidco personals better2—B. B., West- 
port, Connecticut. 

We doubt il. We've never liked personals 
in print, video, skywriting or graffiti. The 
ads are like résumés—if not outright lies, 
they're often tortured interpretations of the 
truth. And the initial mectings are like cast- 
ing calls (Number 21? Ah, thank you. Num- 
ber 22?). Most people we know turn to the 
personals when they get frustrated with the 
bar scene. Our advice: Write your résumé, 
then live it. If you say you like to hang out at 
the climbing wall at the local sports club, go 
climb. If you meet a woman hanging out at 
the same wall, star! a conversation. You al- 
ready have something in common. 


Au the advice columns say talking 
leads to intimacy, which leads to better 
sex. But often, when I want to talk about 
something important, my girlfriend 
reaches for my zipper and we just have 
sex. It's as if she uses sex to avoid con- 
versation. Most of the time I think I'm a 
lucky guy, but sometimes I wonder.— 
A. W., Morristown, New Jersey. 

Except for "Excuse me, the house is on 
Fre,” what conversation can't wait till after 
sex? Too often, proximity is wasted on con- 
uersation. If you want to talk with her, call 


46 her on the phone, or talk after sex. When a 


woman reaches for our zipper, we don't 
mince words. There are better uses for the 
mouth than talking. 


Eve read about several new car models 
with five-speed automatic transmissions 
and six-speed manual gearboxes. Why 
have manufacturers provided these ex- 
tra gears? Do they change the way the 
car should be driven?—K. G., New Or- 
leans, Louisiana. 

Six-speed manual transmissions are avail- 
able in new Corvetie models, in the BMW 
850Ci, the Dodge Viper, the 1993 Acura 
Legend coupe and the 1993 Camaros and 
Firebirds. The extra gear provides fuel 
efficiency al cruising speeds. Heres how: 
With most new six-speed transmissions, 
third, fourth and fifth speeds are lower 
geared in order to improve acceleration. At 
the same time, a tall, overdrive sixth-gear та- 
tio helps improve fuel efficiency at cruising 
speeds. No special driving techniques are 
called for—although, in the case of a six- 
Speed manual, you don’t want to shift into 
sixth gear too soon, as acceleration and pass- 
ing ability are much better in fourth and fifth 
gears. The principle is the same for five- 
Speed automatics. At present, Mercedes-Benz 
and BMW offer them in a few models. Re- 
portedly, more are on the way. 


МІ, vie rarely goes to bed later than 
11 рм. I rarely retire before 12:30. We 
usually make love in the late afternoon, 
sv ош different beduines don't affect our 
sex life. But she doesn't like to go to bed 
by herself, and I'm a night owl. Do you 
have any suggestions?—M. G., Bala Cyn- 
wyd, Pennsylvania. 

Don't turn bedtime into battle time. Early 
birds rarely become night owls and vice ver- 
sa. You have the flip side of the more familiar 
problem—one likes to jump out of bed at the 
crack of dawn, while the other loves to sleep 
in and have breakfast in bed. In the past, 
we've urged early risers to drop by the 
boudoir and share a cup of coffee with a 
lover breakfasting in bed. In your case, we 
suggest that as your wife prepares to retire, 
you accompany her into the bedroom, kiss 
her, tuck her in and then depart. 


Youve written about storing records, 
CDs and tapes. I just had a 1925 Model 
L Steinway piano restored. Now I want 
to protect my investment. What advice 
do you have for the real thing?—]. R., 
Chicago, Illinois 

You're right to be concerned about your in- 
strument's care. A restored Steinway of that 
vintage can be worth $30,000. Here are 
some guidelines for preserving wooden in- 
struments: Maintain a consistent relative 
humidity (the optimum range is 45—50 per- 
cent), That may not be realistic in all envi- 
ronments—some walls “weep” at 50 per- 
cent—but at least avoid wild swings in 
humidity between winter and summer 
months, The variation should not exceed ten 
percent. Get a hygrometer to monitor the 


room's humidity, but understand that the 
margin of error of such a device can be as 
high as eight percent. Do not put the instru- 
ment in direct sunlight, near an uninsulated 
шай, adjacent to a heat source or air condi- 
tioner or near a drafty window. Some people 
protect their pianos with a fleece-lined cov- 
er—uinyl or something nonporous is prefer- 
able to а quilted material, which will act as а 
sponge and retain moisture directly on the 
instrument, 


The movies that are shown on airplanes 
are all dogs, or about dogs. Can I use my 
portable VCR to watch my own flicks 
while flying? While you're at it, how 
come 1 still have to pay the four dollars 
for a movie in coach when 1 use my own 
headphones?—P. J., Washington, D.C. 

The most portable of VCR-TV combina- 
tions are 8mm models ihat include TV 
tuners. TV tuners emit radio waves that the- 
oretically can interfere with aircraft systems. 
Exen if you insist the tuner is off, the airlines 
take no chances, A few manufacturers make 
lunch-pail-size VHS VCR-TVs without tun- 
ers. Technically, these are perfectly safe to 
operate on board. As far as the four-dollar 
headphone rentals ате concerned, something 
has to compensate for those low fares. The 
airlines pay a small percentage to the movie 
studio and a small amount goes to amortize 
the aircraft audio-video system. The rest of 
your four dollars is pure profit in the air- 
line's pocket. 


Recently, my doctor prescribed Prozac 
for premature ejaculation. It worked, 
but now I can hardly ejaculate at all and 
my orgasms haven't been much fun. 1 
thought it might be the Prozac, but my 
doctor said no way. Have you ever heard 
of this?—P Р, Pacific Grove, California. 

Unfortunately, we have. Your doctor 
should have as well. “Recently, many doctors 
have returned to ‘treating’ premature ejacu- 
lation with drugs,” says sex therapist Joseph 
LoPiccolo of the University of Missouri in 
Columbia. “That's a big mistake.” Lo Piccolo 
says many physicians are unaware that 
Prozac interferes with ejaculation in 30 to 
50 percent of the men who take it. Mean- 
while, brief sex therapy cures this problem in 
most cases wilh no drugs and no side effects. 
You don't even need a sex therapist. You can 
cure yourself using the programs described 
in “The New Male Sexuality," by Bernie Zil- 
bergeld (Bantam), or "Sexual Solutions," by 
Michael Castleman (Touchstone). 


All reasonable questions—from fashion, 
food and drink, stereo and sports cars to dat- 
ing problems, taste and etiquette—will be 
personally answered if the writer includes a 
slamped, self-addressed envelope. Send all 
letters to The Playboy Advisor, PLAYBOY, 680 
North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 
60611. The most provocative, pertinent 
queries will be presented on these pages 
each month. 


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THE PLAYBOY FORUM 


Best reason for a military coup 

Section 925, article 125 of the Uni- 
form Code of Military Justice: “Any 
person . .. who engages in unnatural 
carnal copulation with another person 
of the same or opposite sex . . . is 
guilty of sodomy” The code defines 
Unnatural copulation as either anal or 
oral sex, punishable by dishonorable 
discharge and five to 20 years in mili- 


tary jail. 


Where were you in high school? 
“How would you feel about being in 
a shower with a homosexual?"—akmy 
STAFF SERGEANT RICHARD BENNETT 


The weak link in America’s defense? 
“The stereotypical female homosex- 
ual [is] hardworking, 
career-oriented, will- 
ing to put in long 
hours on the job and 
among the com 
mand's top profes- 
sionals."—vICE ADMI- 
RAL JOSEPH DONNELL 
IN 1990 


Best one-liner 
“Heterosexual теп 
have an annoying 
habit of overestimat- 
ing their own attrac- 
tiveness.” ОЗЕРЫ 
STEFFAN, А MIDSHIP- 
MAN EXPELLED FROM 
THE NAVAL ACADEMY 


Bashing for bucks 
“Lifting the ban is just the 
tip of the iceberg of the 
homosexual agenda. We are in the re- 
search stage on how to proceed, to 
find out what people are thinking, to 
find out what will fly.”—THE REVEREND 
LOU SHELDON. CHAIRMAN OF THE TRADI 
TIONAL VALUES COALITION 


"Our new president needs to hear 
from thousands of Americans like you 
immediately. . . 1 want you to join me 
in telling him why we so strongly op- 
pose allowing homosexuals in our 
United States Armed Forces. . . . 
Please help me protect the security of 
America. Return your personal mes- 


a scrapbook of who said what 


sage to President Clinton along with 
your gift of $22 to Liberty Alliance to- 
day" —REVEREND JERRY FALWELL, FROM A 
FUND-RAISING LETTER 


Most relevant statistics 

During the Gulf war deployment of 
195,000 Army personnel, there were 
four prosecutions for homosexual 
sodomy, six courts-martial for hetero- 
sexual rape and at least 16 heterosex- 
ual sex-harassment complaints filed 


by military women. 


Royko on gays 
“Since we're talking about sex—more 
specifically a form of sex that the ma- 
jority of Americans consider unnatur- 
al—anybody who says that it won't 


affect morale and discipline in the mil- 
itary has never been in a barracks 
or on a crowded troop ship.”—MIKE 
ROVKO, COLUMNIST 


AIDS in the military 

“The reason we have done what we 
have done [segregated HIV-positive 
soldiers in a barracks known as the 
“HIV Hotel’ or the ‘leper colony] is 
that we think it’s good medicine. And 
it's medicine that might work in the 
civilian sector as welL"—MAJOR ROBERT 
REDFIELD. CHIEF SCIENTIST FOR THE 
ARMY'S AIDS RESEARCH EFFORT IN 1989 


Famous gay soldier outed 
General Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben, 
the Revolutionary War soldier who, 
along with George Washington, was 
among the most important figures in 
the formation of the United States. 


Public vs. private 
“As far as I'm concerned, it's fine—as 
long as they keep in the closet." —Ax 
EX-NAVY MAN WHO SERVED WITH GAYS 


"There's a difference between a ho- 
mosexual saying, on the one hand, 
‘My sexual orientation and behavior 
are none of your business,’ and, on 
the other, ‘I demand that you ac- 
knowledge my sexual choices as the 
exact equivalent of yours.’ The former 
is a matter of privacy, 
the latter, of culture."— 
WILLIAM RASPBERRY, 
COLUMNIST 


Cut to the chase 

“This is, perhaps, 
the cruelest irony of 
the ban—that it has 
singled out those gay 
Americans who are 
among the most pa- 
triotic, the most 
committed to living 
lives that, in other 
people, would be at 
the heart of the no- 
tion of civic virtue.” 
一 ANDREw SULLIVAN, 
EDITOR OF The Меш 


Republic 


“The issue is whether 
men and women who can and have 
served with distinction should be ex- 
cluded from military service solely on 
the basis of their status, and I believe 
they should not."— PRESIDENT BILL 
CLINTON ANNOUNCING A DEADLINE FOR 
ALLOWING GAYS IN THE MILITARY 


“As my father told me, it doesn't mat- 
ter what color they are, what sex they 
are or what their sexual preference is. 
The only thing that counts is whether 
or not they can soldie: LUCIAN K. 
"TRUSCOTT IV, A THIRD-GENERATION MILI- 
TARY MAN 


49 


50 


R E 


R 


E 


ROWAN ON MARSHALL 
A heartfelt thanks for the arti- 
cle by Carl T: Rowan ("The Last 
Good Man," The Playboy Forum, 
February. We were all sad- 
dened by the death of former 
Supreme Court Justice Thur- 
good Marshall. He was the ulti- 
mate crusader for the civil 
rights of both blacks and whites. 
Throughout the race riots and 
demonstrations of the Sixties, 
Justice Marshall was there. Now 
PLAYBOY and Rowan have given 
him a place in our hearts and in 
the history books. Long live 
Thurgood Marshall's work. 
R. Hanrahan 
Wilmington, Massachusetts 


I am amused by columnist 
Carl T. Rowan's hand-wringing 
over the loss of a liberal Su- 
preme Court. The Supreme 
Court's initial purpose was to 
interpret the Constitution—not 
to rewrite the laws to suit its 
own political agenda. For years, 
the Democrat-controlled Con- 
gress allowed the Supreme 
Court to legislate what Con- 
gress would not dare pass itself. 
However, just hours before his 
retirement, Marshall expressed 
his dismay at a Court decision 
that he felt signaled a shift to 
the right. It would appear from 
his statement that he felt it was 
permissible for liberal justices to 
rewrite the Constitution, but 
not OK for conservatives. When 
President Clinton makes an ap- 
pointment to the Court, I won- 
der what litmus test his ap- 
pointee will undergo to make 
sure he or she has the "correct" 
interpretations of the law. 

Mark S. Lindsey 
Richmond, Virginia 


RISKY BUSINESS 

The author of the artide "Is Sex an 
Assumed-Risk Sport?" (The Playboy Fo- 
rum, February) obviously paid scant at- 
tention to my lawsuit against the Rock 
Hudson estate. I began my sexual rela- 
tionship with Hudson in 1983, when 
AIDS was a disease relegated to 
promiscuous gay men who inhaled too 
many vials of amyl nitrite. Half the 
people in the gay community didnt 
fully accept that AIDS was sexually 


] Be 


ТИМ 


rd 
en 


"S 


“Finally, we would move toward a more gen- 
erous definition of sex, one that does not try to 
categorize people as being by nature sexy or 
sensuous, victim or victimizer, chaste or lusty. 
Instead of uying to find the universal essences 
of human sexuality, we would do well to frame 
the issues in more constructive ways. The ques- 
Чоп is not whether women are more or less sex- 
ual than men. (The answer to that is yes, no, 
both and sometimes.) The questions are: What 
arc the conditions that allow women and men to 
enjoy sex in safety, with self-confidence and in a 
spirit of delight? And how do we get there? 

* "The most positive thing we women have re- 
trieved from the 19th century is that sex is about 
enjoying ourselves,’ said the English writer Wen- 
dy Faulkner. Let us get on with it.” 
一 FROM The Mismeasure of Woman. 


BY CAROL TAVRIS 


transmitted, and some gay activists 
railed against safe-sex measures as het- 
erosexual-inspired homophobia and 
homosexual self-hatred. In June 1984 
Rock learned he had AIDS. He didn’t 
tell me then or ever, and he instructed 
his secretary to lie to me, deny he had 
AIDS and say that he was anorexic. 
When I saw him deteriorating, I asked 
him on more than one occasion if he 
had been tested for HIV, and I was told 
he had “been tested for everything” in- 
cluding the plague (his name for AIDS) 
and didn’t have it. This behavior goes 


TNE УСАЛ 


АЕА: 


beyond not informing me; he 
actively conspired to conceal 
his disease from me in order to 
continue our sexual relation- 
ship. Rock Hudson was the first 
person 1 knew who had AIDS. I 
had no other reference. But the 
int is, if someone has a dis- 
ease like AIDS and is aware of. 
the malady, it is his or her duty 
to inform his or her sexual 
partners. When two or more 
people engage in sex, it is the 
duty of all to protect them- 
selves. If someone deliberately 
lies about AIDS, herpes, etc., in. 
order to have sex, it is criminal. 
After Hudson's death, I merely 
asked the estate for a guarantee. 
that I would have enough mon- 
еу to pay for my medical care 
should 1 be diagnosed with 
AIDS within five years (after 
which time, the money, to be 
held in trust, would be re- 
turned to the estate). The estate 
lawyers responded with indif- 
ference, a smear campaign and 
a bogus countersuit. The jury 
awarded me a reduced settle- 
ment of $5.5 million. I took it. 
Last year, a California appellate 
court upheld the judgment in 
my case three to zero. As for the 
"houseboy" remark, this cut me 
to the quick! I can live with 
"street hustler,” “opportunist” 
or “catamite,” but houseboy? 
Rock already had one. He was 
English and 54 years old. 
Marc Christian 
Los Angeles, California 
Your Letter simply underscores the 
point of our editorial. In 1983 the 
рау community was very much 
aware of AIDS and had тоте than 
an inkling of what put its members 
at risk. Scientists had started to fo- 
cus on the exchange of bodily fluids and had 
warned against unprotected sexual contact. 
There were even hysterical headlines claim- 
ing that the disease could be transmitted 
through casual contact. Within the year, the 
virus was isolated and an antibody test was 
developed that could identify HIV-infected 
people who had not yet shown signs of 
AIDS, It is not clear whether Rock Hudson 
ever had a conj diagnosis. Hudson 
died in October 1985, the victim of a variety 
of disorders ranging from Kaposi's sarcoma 
to lymphoma, all of which are sympto- 
malic of AIDS infection and none of which 


are communicable. More than 6000 Ameri- 
cans had died of the disease by the end of 
1985. As you point out, the gay community 
was divided on the mechanics of the disease. 
Did you or Hudson belong to the half that 
avoided safe sex, that denied the existence of 
sexually transmitted. diseases in general? 
Your lawsuit claimed that because of Hud- 
son's actions, you had to live in a state of 
fear. Was your fear worth more in court than 
that of any other sexually active male in a 
lime of uncertainty? After the trial, a copy- 
cat victim alleged that six weeks after Hud- 
son's death, you assured him you were not 
infectious and had sex with him. Whether or 
not this allegation was true, we hope the ex- 
perience with Hudson was cause enough to 
change your behavior The AIDS virus is 
one of the many risks that accompany sex to- 
day. There are others. See the next letter. 


As lawsuits charging the transmission 
of sexual diseases between former 
lovers multiply, who's to blame be- 
comes the issue. As far as I'm con- 
cerned, trying to place blame misses 
the point. I don't believe it adds much 
to public health when two people at- 
tack, threaten and further stigmatize 
each other over the details of a love af- 
fair gone wrong. In addition, I resent 
taxes being spent in this way when they 
could be much better spent preventing 
further transmission of a host of dis- 
eases. But mostly, I don't think a court- 
room is an appropriate place to talk 
about sexually transmitted diseases. 
Communication is certainly called for, 
but it needs to take place long before 
two people find themselves on opposite 
sides of a lawsuit. Approximately 40 
million Americans are infected with an 
STD; there are 12 million new infec- 
tions each year. Some STDs are treat- 
able, others curable. All STDs are pre- 
ventable. Prevention depends on latex 
condoms and honest communication. 
Responsible, caring people know their 
health status and discuss with their 
partners possible risks, including her- 
pes, HIV, gonorrhea and risk of con- 
ception. That way, everyone can make 
informed decisions. If that isn't possi- 
ble, it should tell you something about 
your potential partner. After all, why 
would you want to have sex with some- 
one you can't even talk to? 

Peggy Clarke 

Executive Director 

American Social Health Association 
Research Triangle Park, 

North Carolina 


For the past two years on October 31st, at precisely 
noon, Edward Grothus of Los Alamos, New Mexico has 
nailed a parchment scroll to the door of St. Francis Ca- 

thedral in Santa Fe. He has also mailed а copy to the 

Pope. The scroll reads: 


“Credo: wat tor сепил» considerctien of human 
sexuality has not been a matter of open. easy discussion. 


d “Creda wat ere needs to be a new, honest and 
enlightened sexual moral code proclaimed by the Church, 
a new sexual code for the 21s! century. 


а 
Credo that human sexual education should be 

a must in all schools so that every new individual has a 

reasonable chance to live a full and productive life. This 

is pro-life. 


а, 

Credo ta persons should be tought that the in- 
tended conception of а new individual is one of the noblest 
things that a man and a woman can do. This is pro-life. 


D 

Cr edo that persone should be taught that con 
ception occurs по! as a gift of God but os a consequence 
of a sexual act between a man and a woman. 


а, 
‘Creda. matitis зои, immoral, unethical and un- 
thoughttul to beget an unwanted child. This is pro-life. 


в 
‘Creda ma acial contraception is neither evil 

nor sinful and that it is wrong that the Church makes even 

JA a maried couple feel guilty if hey use any form of artifi- 
cial birth control. 


“ 

Credo wa itis not sintuitor coupes wanting a 
child fo conceive in vitro if this is Ihe only way for concep- 

À tion to occur. This is pro-life. 


а, 

‘Creda ma awomon в denied the pleasure ot 
A her own sexuality И for most of her life she lives in a constant 
fear of becoming pregnant, and that the Church causes un- 
told suffering,anxiety and hardship by insisting that every 
conception must be carried 10 term. 


а, 

Cr LAO wot в intu and immoral or the Church 
to avoid addressing the problem of world overpopulation. 
This is pro-life. 


“Creda that persons should be laugh! that casu- 
al, unthinking, unprotected sexual activity is lethal, This is 
pro-ife. 


“Credo. that homosexuality is a God-given 
exercise of free will and that homosexuals should not be 
persecuted. 


“Credo that adoption of this creed will great- 
ly reduce the number of traumatic abortions. This is 
v > = 


51 


52 


Iur KEATING PAPERS. 


анны аа СЫЗ 
о 


135 ети keating used millions in in taxpayers’ 
money to fund his crusade for decency 


2 EROS 


If you want to find Charles Keating 
these days, he's hanging out at the Cal- 
ifornia Men's Colony at San Luis Obis- 
po, doing ten years for swindling some 
23,000 citizens out of their life savings. 
Moreover, this past January, a Los An- 
geles federal jury convicted the ex- 
tycoon of 73 felonies connected to the 
Lincoln Savings & Loan scandal. Po- 
tential penalty: more than 500 years in 
the federal pen. 

But long before Keating became syn- 
onymous with fraud, he was a famous 
crusader against sexual literature. 
From his base in Phoenix, Charles 
Keating directed and financed his own 
foundation, Citizens for Decency 
Through Law, which waged a jihad 
against erotica. “I thank God for how 
far CDL has come since I founded it in 
1957,” Charlie Keating wrote in one 
fund-raising letter. “Back then Hef- 
net's PLAYBOY magazine was among the 
worst. ... Now, 12-year-old kids pick 
up the family phone and listen to lurid 
descriptions of incest, child sexual bru- 
tality—even kids having sex with their 
family pet.” 

To save us all from such depravity, 
Keating kept С ‘known through- 
out Arizona as "Charlie's charity"— 
well funded. He funneled hundreds of 
thousands of dollars from Lincoln Sav- 
ings & Loan and its holding company, 
American Continental Corporation, in- 
to the CDL coffers. 

In 1984 Lincoln Savings & Loan 
contributed $350,000, and American 
Continental $105,000, to Keating's 
crusade. The following year, Citizens 
for Decency Through Law took in 
$225,000 from Lincoln and $50,000 
from ACC. In 1986 CDL received 
$100,000 in Lincoln money and anoth- 
er $10,000 from ACC through a Keat- 
ing-sponsored fund-raising party. 

The taxpayers later picked up much 
of the tab for this generosity. Michael 
Manning, a Phoenix attorney repre- 
senting the Resolution Trust Corpora- 
tion (the scmiautonomous agency es- 
tablished to clean up the S&L mess), 
explains: “During most of that period, 
federally insured deposits were used 
for cash flow at ACC, and ACC was the 


By CLAUDIA DREIFUS 
WOON STAND Sessa 


greatest source of money for the Keat- 
ing family. Typically, Keating moved 
money from Lincoln to ACC through 
sham transactions.” 

By 1989 Keating had dipped into 
Lincoln's treasury to such an extent 
that the bank was broke. On April 14, 
1989, federal regulators seized Lin- 
coln. ACC, whose main asset was Lin- 
coln Savings’ federally insured de- 
posits, had declared bankruptcy a day 
earlier. Ultimately, the federal govern- 
ment would have to come up 
some $2.6 billion to bail out Lin- 
coln's depositors and creditors. 


PENNIES FROM HEAVEN 


Charlie had been big with other 
people's money. In addition to 
CDL, religious organizations 
that might ordinarily have 
been barred from federal 
funding got hefty grants from 
their Lincoln Savings and ACC 
sources. In 1985, for instance, 
Lincoln Savings contributed 
$250,000 to the Archdiocese of 
Phoenix, $10,000 to Arizona Right to 
Life and $5000 to Colorado Right to 
Life. Over a four-year period, Lincoln 
granted Mother Teresa $900,000— 
plus personal use of Charlies heli- 
copter during her travels to Arizona. 

Another recipient of Keating's 
largess was Father Bruce Ritter, 
founder of Covenant House, a shelter 
for runaway children in New York 
City. Ritter’s enterprise would 
receive at least $400,000 in 
Lincoln and ACC contribu- 
tions and another estimated 
$33.75 million in questionable | 
Lincoln loans. Ironically, Ritter once 
a key member of the 1985 Meese Com- 
mission on Pornography—fell from 
grace in a sex-and-moncy scandal in- 
volving homeless boys. 

As recently as January 1993, The 
Washington Post was saying that the S&L 
scandal and the antiporn crusade were 
unrelated. Not in Charlie's mind. 

When Keating wasn't outright giving 


Lincoln and ACC bucks to his anti 
pornography obsession, he and 
family were nudging the Arizona bu: 
ness community into funding CDL. In 
Arizona during the mid and late Eight- 
ies, the conventional wisdom went: If 
you wanted to do business with Charlie 
Keating, you'd do well to buy tickets 
for the Children’s Ball, an annual fete 
that raised vast sums for CDL. 

Heres how Keating described the 
ball and the 


WILLIAM SWINDELL. 


ballroom in a 1988 fund-raising letter: 
“At this crucial juncture I'm pulling out 
the stops. And God help me, this year's 
Children’s Ball is going to raise $2 mil- 
lion in funds for CDL—more than has 
ever been raised for the cause of de- 
cency in America. [This is] to make 
sure that our potent legal weapons— 
Ben Bull, Bruce Taylor, Alan Sears and 
the others—stay deployed. 


SPECIAL REPORT 


“The 1988 Children's Ball will bring 
you a wealth of updated information 
on the underworld of child porn and 
the phone-sex industry. Plus, you will 
get an evening of exquisite entertain- 
ment and cuisine at my new $300 mil- 
lion hotel and development, the Phoc- 
nician Resort. To accommodate the 
Children’s Ball, I made the Phoeni- 
cian’s ballroom big. So big, in fact, that 
this year we're making room for 1500 
guests, nearly as many as have attend- 
ed in the past three years combined: 
Children's Ball 1985. ѕо1р ovr. 670 
guests, $1 million. Children's Ball 
1986. soLD ovr. 670 guests, $1.25 mil- 
lion. Children's Ball 1987. sor our. 

440 guests, $1.75 million. 
Children's Ball 1988. coat: 


ALAN SEARS 


1500 guests, $2 million." 

According to Dennis Wagner of The 
Phoenix Gazette, the 1988 Children's 
Ball (chaired by Keating's daughter, 
Flaine Boland) raised $1.5 million, 
most of which went to CDL to deploy 
those “potent legal weapons” in the 
cause of censoring erotica. 

Gene Whitson, an executive with an 


Arizona contracting firm that had done 
work on Keating's Phoenician Resort, 
told Wagner: “They demanded money. 
Not little bits of money. They put the 
heat on you. I think the first year it was 
a couple of thousand dollars [per 
table]. The next year it was ten thou- 
sand dollars. And the third year it was 
twenty thousand dollars.” 

Carolyn Warner, an Arizona political 
figure, attended one Children’s Ball—a 
friend had bought a table and had a 
spare seat. “The sad stories about de- 
pravity against children that were told 
were almost lurid, as if there were a se- 
cret pleasure derived from this,” she 
reports. Adds Resolution Trust Corp. 
outside counsel Michael Manning, “I've 
talked to people who attended and 
they said it was a Keating family love- 
fest. They said various Keatings would 
give one another expensive crystal 
awards for their vigilant fights against 
pornography. They said it wasn't an 
event that people who attended once 
wanted to go to again, though I'm told 
by many who went that Charlie could 
induce their attendance.” 

And what did all this frantic fund- 
raising buy? A legal foundation that 
gave Charlie a national platform and 
that provided lucrative employment 
for various right-wing legal beagles 
and Keating relations, and that made 
periodic lunges at the First Amend- 
ment. During its Eighties heyday, the 
CDL got Congress to pass anti-phone- 
sex legislation, printed a guide for 
prosecutors on “The Preparation and 
Trial of an Obscenity Case” and provid- 
ed a kind of brain trust for the Justice 
Department's war on what the CDL 
defined as obscenity. 

“Although there was no formal rela- 
tionship between the government and 
the now-defunct CDL,” noted a recent 
Washington Post article, “the organiza- 
tion from the early Eighties played a 

major role in conceptualizing the 

antipornography campaign, and 

some of its lawyers later helped 

carry it out as Justice Department 
officials. The group's causes and tar- 
gets,” the Post reported, “became virtu- 
ally indistinguishable from those of the 
Justice Department.” 

Documents obtained by Puavaoy 
through the Freedom of Information 
Act illuminate the link. In 1984, for 
instance, when the Reagan adminis- 
tration was planning a national com- 
mission on pornography CDL gen- 
eral counsel Bruce Taylor sent a long, 


chatty letter to then-Attorney General 
William French Smith that was filled 
with suggestions for the panel: "It will 
need a narrow and specific mandate 
and a strong chairman to stick to your 


mandate . . . someone, like Mr. Keat- 
ing, who can handle the pressure and 
the press and be true to your direc- 
tions. . . . Another important consider- 
ation is preventing a renegade or hos- 
tile minority from disrupting the work 
of the panel. Even one appointment of 
an ACLU lawyer or consenting-adults 
advocate will allow the industry to fun- 
nel money, counterresearch and di: 
senting reports into the proceedings. 
Hostile media reporters will use that 
member for comments and updates, 
thereby suppressing the main work 
and findings and creating controversy. 
The commission should be a true team 
to assist you in studying the situation, 
not a purely political or an across-the- 
board representation. Accuracy in the 
findings is all-important, fairness in the 
membership is not." 

Critics of the commission called it 
a stacked deck. Now it's clear why. Tay- 
lor practically dictated the list of au- 
thorities—all of whom would guaran- 
tee an antiporn slant. 


MEN OR MEESE 


Although French Smith ended up 
appointing many of Charlie's suggest- 
са “true team” to the Meese commis- 
sion, he did not give Charlie Keating 
the top porn-buster job. Copies of Tay- 
lor's letter were sent to Senators Strom 
Thurmond, Dennis DeConcini, Orrin 
Hatch, Jesse Helms, Jeremiah Denton, 
Charles Grassley and Representative 
John McCain (R-Ariz.). DeConcini and 
McCain must have been particularly 
sympathetic. Several years down the 
line, DeConcini (who got $81,000 in 
campaign money from Keating) and 
McCain (who received $112,000) were 
pushing to new limits the definition of 
constituent service as part of the Keat- 
ing Five. 

Long before the S&L scandal broke, 
McCain was enough of a Keating gofer 
that he wrote Edwin Meese an effu- 
sive letter inviting him to the 1985 
Children's Ball for the purpose of sec- 
ing their friend Father Bruce Ritter re- 
ceive an award. In his letter McCain 
extolled the CDL: “As you know, this 
group of attorneys attempts to com- 
bat pornography through the judicial 
process.” 

Ed knew. Keating and the CDL were 


SPECIAL REPORT 


53 


соту with the Meese-era Justice De- 
partment. At the conclusion of the 
Meese Commission sideshow, Alan 
Sears joined the CDL staff. The start- 
ing pay was $125,000. 

Scars apparently carned his six fig- 
ures advising prosecutors on obsceni- 
ty law and firing off letters on CDL 
stationery, such as this one to his ex- 
boss, Meese: "This is a matter of some 
importance, which I felt compelled to 
bring to your personal attention. . . . 
Last July, you hosted a luncheon for 
me and some of the persons who 
served as volunteers . . . members of 
the Attorney General's Commission 
on Pornography During that lun- 
cheon session . . . you promised that 
each attcndcc and the other commis- 
sioners not present would be present- 
ed appropriate certificates of appreci- 
ation in the very near future... . 
More than a year has come and gone 
and I continue to receive phone calls 
from persons wondering why the 
promised certificates have not ar- 
rived. . . . 1 would greatly appreciate 
it if the preparation and issuance of 
such certificates could be expedited. 
A number of the former commission- 
ers have been subjected to tremen- 
dous amounts of personal abuse by 
the media, professional associates and 
others, but they continue to stand 
strong and to defend not only the 
work of the commission but you and 
the entire administration.” 

The commissioners got their cer- 
tificates—while some of the crusaders 
got federal jobs. Former CDL lawyer 
Paul McCommon joined the newly 
created National Obscenity Enforce- 
ment Unit. (See “Project Postporn,” 
The Playboy Forum, September 1990). 
He was joined by one of Charlie's 
prime angels, CDL veteran Bruce 
Taylor. "There appears to have been 
a kind of revolving door between the 
CDL and the Justice Department 
during the Reagan years," suggests 
Marjorie Heins, director of the 
ACLU's Arts Censorship Project 
“Justice was using materials prepared 
by CDL in its training and making ex- 
tensive use of CDL people as speak- 
ers. The two groups appcar to have 
shared the identical religious-right 
antisex agenda. This relationship fos- 
tered a hysteria about freedom of ex- 
pression on sexual topics.” 

Porn-killing was lucrative, too. At 
CDL, for instance, the foundation's 
1987 IRS filing showed that William 


Swindell, the national director, 
earned $175,000; Bruce Taylor, gen- 
eral counsel, made the same; and 
Benjamin Bull, legal counsel, carned 
$150,000. 


TROUBLE IN PARADISE 


Bui the good times were not to last. 
On May 31, 1989, a month after ACC's 
bankruptcy and Lincoln Savings" 
seizure by the federal government, 
The Phoenix Gazette reported that “а 
tax-exempt organization founded by 


x 
ye 


EN 
RÓS 


ES 


Trust 


A baby truss шз поп io drop him or her. 

A toddlrtrusisus to prevent a damaging ll. 

“A childtruss usto teach right from wrong 

A youth truss usto educate and prepare 

А young man or womantrusts us to bequeath 
dean socieey 

Rich oc poor, зе must do our best to honor ll 
artus 


Mr and Mrs Charles H Keating Jr. 


Charles Keating, Jr., to fight pornog- 
raphy . . . might be headed for hard 
times, a victim of Keating's crumbling 
empire." In the wake of the scandal, 
Alan Sears—of Meese commission 
fame—took over as CDL president 
andexecutive director, trimming bud- 
gets, changing the group's name to 
the Children's Legal Foundation Inc. 
and, above all, trying to shake the 
groups image as a Keating-family 
enterprise. 

This was not an easy task. In July 


SPECIAL REPORT 


1992, Jerry Kammer revealed in The 
Arizona Republic that the reborn CLF 
had been serving as a job corps for 
two Keating sons-in-law: “Robert J. 
Hubbard, Jr., and Bradley J. Boland 
were hired as successive presidents of 
the Children’s Legal Foundation by a 
board of directors headed by Dr. 
Gary Hall, a third Keating son-in-law. 
Other family members sat on the 
board.” The same article had Hub- 
bard acknowledging that “during his 
tenure at the foundation, staff mem- 
bers were asked to help Keating's le- 
gal-defense efforts by answering a 
phone that had been installed in the 
foundation's office.” 

This was all tremendously interest- 
ing to the FBI, which began investi- 
gating. Federal law-enforcement offi- 
cials have retained a curiosity about 
what became oftens of millions of un- 
accounted-for Keating dollars. 

The revelation of continuing Keat- 
ing-family involvement with CLF 
seems to have been the final blow. 
By New Year's 1993, The Washington 
Post described the foundation as “de- 
funct.” The Phoenix organization's 
telephones were found to be dis- 
connected, and there was no listing 
with directory assistance for either 
CLF or CDL. 

Meanwhile, Charlie's “potent legal 
weapons” are singing their old songs 
in some of the more contentious cor- 
ners of the religious right. William 
Swindell has occupied a series of jobs 
and titles with the Reverend Donald 
Wildmon's American Family Associa- 
tion in Tupelo, Mississippi. His salary, 
according to а 1990 AFA tax filing in 
which he’s listed as “Associate Direc- 
tor,” is a mere $41,200, plus $4200 in 
benefits. 

Benjamin Bull, once CDLs legal 
counsel and later a $175,000 in-house 
counsel to ACC in the midst of its 
bankruptcy, has gone on to head 
Wildmon's AFA law center. There, ac- 
cording to their 1990 tax report, he 
got a modest $56,662. Bull now 
spends his time busily filing suit 
against school districts for using the 
“Impressions” reading series, among 
other infractions. 

At least there’s one good thing 
about the employment of Keating's 
consiglieri at the AFA: This time the 
organization’s $6 million-plus budget 
comes voluntarily from like-minded 
contributors. 


THE WIT AND WISDOM OF 


Across the land, 300,000-plus mem- 
bers of Pat Robertson's Christian 
Coalition continue to wage a religious 
and cultural war. According to the 
coalition, only by purging the “satanic 
forces” contending for the country's 
soul can America return to righteous- 
ness and its citizens lead their lives as 
God intended. 

As outlined in Robertson's writing 
and in his folksy sermons on The 700 
Club, the country bears little resem- 
blance to any America that has ever 
existed. Take a look at what the once 
and possibly future Republican presi- 
dential candidate envisions. 


On government: 

“Perfect government comes from 
God and is conuolled by God. 
Short of that, the next best govern- 
ment is a limited democracy in 
which the people acknowledge rights 
given by God.” 


On а state religion: 

“The First Amendment ауз... 
Congress can't set up a national reli- 
gion. End of story. There is never in 
the Constitution, at any point, any- 
thing that applies that to the states. 
None at all.” 


On state-sanctioned genocide: 

“You've got a country full of homo- 
sexuals, people who are living togeth- 
er outside of wedlock, who are en- 
gaged in drunkenness, fornication, 
drug addiction, crime and violence. 
Now what are you going to do with 
those people? Are you going to kill 
them all? . . . Playtime is over.” 


On who сап run for office: 

“Individual Christians are the only 
ones really, and Jewish people . 
anyone whose mind and heart is not 
controlled by God Almighty is not 
qualified." 


On religiously inspired criminals: 
"We should have a judicial branch 

of the church . - . to judge these mat- 

ters and handle them ourselves. . . . It 


By STEPHEN RAE 


shouldn't be the province of the states 
to put people in jail for exercising. 
what they feel is their religious belief. 


On a spiritual police force: 
“Why not have God give us wisdom 

in such areas as crime control? He 

gives us wisdom in everything else.” 


On animal rights activists and reli- 
gious Jews: 
“[Jews] go to Heaven if they keep 


all the command- 

ments of the Jewish 

law, and if you go back to the Old 
‘Testament, you see that it was neces- 
sary . . to have animal sacrifice." 


On a woman's place: 

“The husband is to be the high 
priest of the family. . . . [God] is the 
head of the man and the man is to be 
the head of the woman. . . . A woman 
has voluntarily surrendered a portion 
of her autonomy to her husband 
when she marries.” 


On genocide as an act of Christian 
charity: 

“God told the Israelites to kill them 
all [the Midianites], men, women and 


children, to destroy them, and that 
seems a terrible thing to do. Is it? 
Well, that would be 10,000 people 
who probably would have gone to 
if they stayed and repro- 
. „then there would be 1 mil- 
lion people who would have to spend 
eternity in hell. . . . So God in love, 
and that was a loving thing, took away 
a small number so that he might not 
have to take away a large number.” 


On femi 

i . + . encourages women 
to leave their husbands, kill their chil- 
dren, practice witchcraft, desi 
italism and become lesbians.” 


On freedom of the press: 

“I think its outrageous to intrude 
into a man's family in the guise of 
journalism.” 


On health care: 

“I have come across instances where 
people were not near a television set 
when The 700 Club was used by God to 
heal them. One man went to bed 
blind, buta prayer request came in to 
our television program for him and 
when he woke up, he could see.” 


On sex: 
"Christians can have much more 
stimulating sex lives than non- 
Christians. Non-Christians can- 
not join together in the 
spirit. They lack that extra 
dimension." 


% On meteorology: 

"Word reached us 
that a great killer hurricane with 
winds exceeding one hundred fifty 
miles per hour was heading directly 
into our area. . . . 1 commanded 
that storm, in the name of Jesus, to 
stop its forward movement and to 
head back where it had come 
from. . . . It was almost as though 
a giant hand had come down out 
of the sky, blocked that storm and 
gestured, 'Stop." This hurricane 
followed orders." 


55 


МЕ W 


WHAT WE WANT 


HONOLULU—Thinking of writing a 
singles ad? Some truth in advertising may 
hay off, according to what sociobiologists 


have discovered. Apparently, neither men 
mor women want a partner who wants 
a large family. Also unwanted: partners 
who are dominant, agnostic, night owls or 
early risers. Men want women who are 
good-looking, younger than themselves 
and reproductively fit. Women are more 
concerned with finding professional men 
who have ambition, status and good in- 
come and who can offer security. Per- 
haps most interesting: Two University of 
Hawaii researchers found that men think 
love is an essential part of marriage; 
women, on the other hand, deem it a much 


SAPPHO'S DESCENDANTS 


cHicaco—Sisters of lesbians are at 
least four times more likely to be homosexu- 
al than sisters of heterosexual women, 
according io research published in the 
“American Journal of Psychiatry.” The 
study was conducted by Northwestern Uni- 
versity psychology professor J. Michael 
Bailey, who previously found that male 
homosexuality is genetically determined. A 
study of lesbian twins, soon to be published 
in the ‘Archives of General Psychiatry,” 
will further corroborate the importance of 
genetics in determining homosexuality. 


S F R 


what's happening in the sexual and social arenas 


HOME RULES 


SPRINGFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS—A Su- 
perior court has ruled in favor of land- 
lords who want none of their tenants liv- 
ing in sin. Judge George Keady decided 
that “the state's interests in protecting un- 
married cohabiting couples from discrimi- 
mation is not such a paramount and com- 
pelling state interest as to outweigh the 
individual's right to the free exercise of re- 
ligion." The chairman. of the Commission 
Against Discrimination said that unless 
the decision is overturned, he could imag- 
ine a rental application with a line that 
reads: “Chech the following boxes if you 
have had an abortion, if you have engaged 
in premarital sex, if you are gay, if you are 
not a Christian.” 

NEW YORK crrv—Mayor David Dink- 
ins signed an executive order that allows 
unmarried couples, including homosexu- 
als, to register with the city clerk as domes- 
tic partners. 


STATE NOT CHURCH 


MANILA—The Philippines’ first Protes- 
tant president is supporting the distribu- 
tion of condoms despite strong opposition 
from the Catholic Church. Even though 
most citizens are Catholic and the Church 
is politically powerful, President Fidel 
Ramas defended his health secretary's con- 
dom program as а means of slowing the 
spread of AIDS. 


AIDS UPDATE 


ATLANTA—Federal health officials said 
that the number of American AIDS deaths 
will increase from a total of 160,000 to at 
least 333,000 by 1995, but that the spread 
of the disease among homosexuals and 
bisexuals is beginning to slow. The AIDS 
surveillance division of the Centers for 
Disease Control said that the greatest im- 
provement was homosexual males, 
perhaps indicating that prevention efforts 
are beginning to pay off. 

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND—Globally, 
however, the World Health Organization 
reported that the number of AIDS cases 
officially rose to more than 600,000 last 
‚year, with the likelihood that the real num- 
ber of cases is about four times that many. 

WASHINGTON, D.C—The U.S. State De- 
partment announced that at least 44 coun- 
tries now require HIV testing of foreigners 


ом eb 


before they can enter their country. While 
most accept U.S. test results, some, includ- 
ing Cuba, Greece and Kuwait, do not. 


NO SEX SUCKS 


LANCASTER, CALIFORNIA —Ordinance 
619 has fut Lancaster on the map, or at 
least in the tabloids, as the town that makes 
sex a crime. Strictly interpreted, the ordi- 
nance prohibits all sex outside of marriage. 
This means no cohabitation, sex shops, 
condoms, marital aids, sexy lingerie, girlie 
magazines, sexual videos or clothing that 
exposes more than 25 percent of the breast 
or buttocks. The Law was supported by the 
aptly titled vice mayor, Reverend Henry 
Hearns, and pushed through the city 
council by а local constituent who claimed 
his smut habit once caused him nearly to 


rape a woman in a parking lot. 


KISS AND KVELL 


BRAWLEY, CALIFORNIA—A chain of 
southern California health clinics has a 
new rule for employees: If you have a visi- 
ble hickey, you're suspended without pay. 
П seems that too many patients and col- 
leagues complained about a few workers 
branded with the signs of passionate kiss- 


ing. Personnel manager Diana Tamez 
explained, "When they come in and 
don't meet certain standards of profes- 
sionalism, then i's something we have 
to deal with.” Guess the standards depend 
on the profession. 


OPEN HERE 
TO EXPERIENCE 


nautica. 


cologne 


DAYTON'S • HUDSON'S • MARSHALL FIELD'S 


nautica 


cologne 


Reporter's Notebook 


THE SCANDAL AT RTC 


the agency created lo fix the sel mess is embroiled in 
mischief that makes the greedy thrift barons look. like pikers 


I recently found myself in a coffee 
shop interviewing a nervous woman who 
works for the Resolution Trust Corpora- 
tion. She was afraid we might be spotted 
and knew she would be fired if her name 
were used in my story. She talked of a 
witch-hunt in the agency and suggested 
a plot to defraud taxpayers. This was not 
some crank or screwball 1 had been 
given her name by a respected busi- 
ness professor who had vouched for her 
credibility. 

Alter a long career in commercial real 
estate, this woman had gone to work for 
the government agency that was set ир 
by Congress in 1989 to help straighten 
out the S&L mess. What she found was 
that the КТС, afier spending $85 billion 
and asking for $45 billion more, repre- 
sents a scandal even greater than the 
original caper. The conspiracy she hint- 
ed at involves an attempt by Wall Street 
and the government to defraud taxpay- 
ers. It doesn't matter that Democrats 
now control the White House, since the 
key players in this scandal, which has 
been bipartisan from the beginning, re- 
main in place, 

‘The history of the RTC is one of in- 
competence further tainted by avarice. 
Even in its better moments, this agency 
has managed to bungle the smallest de- 
tails of the operation, including the 
mundane tasks of office work. Perhaps 
you recall the story a few months ago of 
how the accounting firm of Price Water- 
house charged the КТС 67 cents a page 
for photocopying millions of pages of 
records. It was only after a congressional 
committee expressed outrage that the 
accounting firm returned $4 million of 
the $17 million it had been paid. 

But that was a minor misdeed. The 
real problems with the RTC have to do 
with the waste of billions of dollars, not. 
ions, through the rushed sale of 
seized assets at well below market value. 
And we are talking many billions. The 
cost of the S&L bailout is now at $200 
billion—a conservative estimate—paid 
by interest-bearing 40-year government 
bonds. Servicing that debt will cost as 
much as $500 billion over the next 
decades. 

Neither President Bush nor President 
Clinton was willing to make an issue of 
the S&L or КТС scandals during the 


opinion By ROBERT SCHEER 


campaign. Bush's reasons were clear: 
The debacle occurred on his watch and 
his own son was implicated as a director 
of the failed Silverado S&L of Denver. 

Then, too, during the Bush years, 
wealthy Republican contributors had a 
field day picking the assets seized by the 
RTC from failed S&Ls. The Robert Bass 
Group, for example, which was a finan- 
cial backer of Bush campaigns, joined 
with General Electric Capital Corp. in 
1991 to buy $1 billion in bad real estate 
loans at the bargain-basement price of 
$527 million. No wonder the RI C-asset 
auction list at one point cost $50,000. 

Under Bush the КТС forced out or 
demoted lawyers who dared to suggest 
that the agency was making sweetheart 
deals in settling cases of fraud. A policy 
was set in motion to ignore smaller inde- 
pendent investors while favoring the 
largest Wall Street brokers at a consider- 
able loss to the taxpayers. 

This should have been a hot issue for 
the Democrats, but the Clinton cam- 
paign pointedly ignored it. "The Demo- 
crauc party as a whole has seemed in- 
clined to help Bush try to bury the 
mess," The Los Angeles Times reported in 
the last month oí the presidential cam- 
paign. "Some outside analysts believe 
that questions about the involvement of 
Clinton and his wife with a failed 
Arkansas thrift, an issue that surfaced 
early in the presidential campaign, may 
have stified his criticism of Bush on the 
issue." 

Now we have Clinton's trusted child- 
hood friend, chief of staff Thomas 
McLarty, whose company was a defen- 
dant in a $535 million lawsuit brought 
by the RTC. The federal agency alleges 
that McLarty's firm, Arkla Inc., is re- 
sponsible for “misdeeds and negligence" 
in the operation of University Savings of 
Houston, a failed thrift seized by federal 
regulators in 1989. It is estimated by the 
ЕТС that the failure of University Sav- 
ings will cost taxpayers $2 billion. 

McLarty, who was chairman and chief 
executive officer of Arkla, says his hold- 
ing company is not responsible for the 
irresponsibility of the thrift. In 1988 
Arkla bought a naturalgas company 
called Entex, which owned University 
Savings. Entex had owned the thrift for 
the previous ten years. 


Presumably, Arkla had looked into the 
operations of the subsidiary and should 
not have been shocked when it went bust 
in 1989. But McLarty insists his compa- 
ny bears no responsibility for the loss to 
savers at the thrift. His reasoning typifies 
the flimflam world of financiers in the 
Eighties. The poor suckers who got 
burned by the S&L may react viscerally, 
but to McLarty, University Savings was 
evidently just another property pushed 
around the board of high finance. 

Pushing around paper profits was 
what mangled the U.S. economy during 
the Eighties, but, unfortunately, Clinton 
has turned over the day-to-day opera- 
tion of economic planning to two old 
pros. Robert Rubin, recently cochairman 
of Goldman, Sachs & Co., the Wall Street 
investment firm, is coordinator of eco- 
namic policy in his jah as chairman of 
the new National Economic Council 
Roger Altman, a close friend of Clinton's 
since their college days at Georgetown, is 
deputy secretary at the Treasury Depart- 
ment. He was vice chairman of the 
Blackstone Group, а New York invest- 
ment bank. 

Altman's boss is Treasury Secretary 
Lloyd Bentsen, known as "Loophole 
Lloyd" to his colleagues in the Senate. 
Bentsen also has a potential conflict of 
interest on S&L matters His son Lan 
Bentsen is being investigated by the 
ЕТС for a possible violation of contract- 
ing rules concerning a $54 million de- 
fault to the RTC by a company in which 
Lan was a principal. In a separate case, 
the RTC has already concluded that one 
of young Bentsen's firms, Lan Bentsen 
Interests of Houston, had what The 
Washington Post reported in March as “le- 
gal and ethical conflicts that should have 
barred it from doing work for the RTC.” 

No wonder Senator Bentsen didn't 
raise any questions about Altman's possi- 
ble conflict of interest when his name 
came up as the deputy overseeing RTC 
activity. Bentsen also supported the se- 
lection of Rubin as economic czar. Rubin 
once managed a portion of the super- 
rich Texas senator's personal investment 
portfoli 

Nor did President Clinton look 
askance at the fact that his two top eco- 
nomic advisors (continued on page 174) 


57 


YOU LIKE TO WATCH ‘DON’T YOU 


SLIVER 


a Robert Evans production 
Tom Berenger SLIVER Martin Landau 
se Vilmos Zsigmond, asc 
‚Ira Levin 


A Paramount С 


AT THEATRES EVERYWHERE 


ld 


William J. Macdona 
Koch, Jt. and Joe Eszterhas 


Robert Evans Phillip Noyce 


OPENS FRIDAY, MAY 21st 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: ROSEANNE & ТОМ ARNOLD 


а candid conversation with TV's battling blue-collar heroes about holly- 
wood rats, media madness and their unusual rules for a happy marriage 


Roseanne Arnold is dressed entirely in 
black, from her blouse to her cowbay boats. 
Her mood is dark, too. 

“My lines are mean,” she complains to one 
of the writers of her top-rated TV show, 
“Roseanne.” “Make them funnier.” 

“Perhaps you could point out a few of the 
ones you're talking about,” suggests the 
writer. 

“No,” says Roseanne. “You figure it ош.” 
Then, ever the helpful star, she points to her 
script. “This line is nol funny,” she says. She 
points to another. "This line isn't funny, ei- 
ther.” Her voice becomes more agitated as 
she finds more offenders 

“Not funny,” she says, pointing. And then 
she continues: 

“Not funny. 


^s" interrupts Tom Arnold, at- 
tempting to bail out the beleaguered writer 
before Roseanne can dismiss every line in the 
script. Tom has many roles in Roseanne’s life 
and career—husband, executive producer of 
“Roseanne,” star of “The Jackie Thomas 
Show” —bue none is mure impurtunt thun his 
role as peacekeeper. Ніз mere presence brings 
the exchange with the writer to an end. But 
not before Roseanne gets in the last word. 

“Well, it’s not funny,” she says firmly and 
walks off 


ROSEANNE: “J tell him he's a bori 
Once you get past the veneer, he’s 
ing hushand who wants to watch sports all 
the lime. And Pm a regular bilchy wife who 
Just wants to go out and do something.” 


Life backstage at “Roseanne” is not al- 
ways so tense. Although it was once consid- 
ered the stormiest set in Hollywood, with 
Roseanne and Tom firing producers and 
writers with а Sleimbrenneresque fervor 
(Roseanne even fired Tom twice), success has 
apparently mellowed the controversial cou- 
ple. “Roseanne,” their flagship show, domi- 
nates the ratings week afier week, and the 
newer “Jackie Thomas Show” managed to 
pull off something of a minor miracle: It 
made Tom—ofien derided as Roseanne’s 
Yoko Ono—respectable. 

Seldom have two performers traveled far- 
ther to get to the top. And perhaps never has 
such а journey been so well publicized and 
endlessly analyzed. 

The Arnolds met in Minneapolis in 1983, 
when they were neophyte stand-up comics. 
He opened her show. They were both over- 
weight, overindulgent products of overcom- 
plicated lives. He had а reputation as an ir- 
responsible wild man with a taste for drugs 
and alcohol. Roseanne Bars, as she was 
known then, was a foulmouthed and abra- 
sive comic whose whining housewife humor 
struck а nerve among dissatisfied women 
and sympathetic men 

The two quickly became best friends and 
together they took refuge on the road from 
their tawdry home lives, Tom had just es- 
caped three years as an Iowa meat-packer; 


TOM: "I wouldn't care if it was the Pope, gay 
guys, anybody. Doesn't matter. It's inapp: 
priate. Гт not going to let any man, even my 
rabbi, who's asked, have lunch with my wij 
I don't believe in it.” 


Roseanne doubled as a house-trailer Frau 
with three kids and a husband who worked 
for the post office. 

“Tom was like the guy me,” Roseanne ex- 
plains. So they dressed alike, heckled each 
other from offstage, got high together, spent 
sexless nights in the same hotel room and had 
more fun than two lower-middle-class couch 
potatoes thought they should ever be allowed. 

And that’s before either one of them be- 
came famous. 

Roseanne hit it big first. After four years 
of perfecting the wisecracking, gum-chewing 
Domestic Goddess, she arrived in Los Ange- 
les in 1985 and landed at the Comedy Store. 
Within weeks, she had been discovered by 
“The Tonight Show” and signed to an HBO 
deal. Then, in 1988, the producing team be- 
hind “The Cosby Show” made her the star of 
her own series. It was an immediate ratings 
success. 

Why? Barbara Ehrenreich, writing in 
“The New Republic,” called her “the ne- 
glected underside of the Eighties. The over- 
side is handled well enough by Candice 
Bergen and Madonna, who exist to remind 
us thut talented women who work ош we 
bound to become fabulously successful. Rose- 
anne works a whole different beat, portray- 
ing the hopeless underclass of the female 
sex: polyester-clad, overweight occupants of 
the slow track, fast-food waitresses, factory 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY GWENDOLEN CATES 


ROSEANNE: "Im not Cinderella and Pm not 
a fucking princess. Гт me and I have a big 
mouth. I am never going to shut up. I could 
cause all kinds of trouble every fucking day 
if I wanted to.” 


59 


PLAYBOY 


workers, housewives. But Barr—and this 
may be her most appealing feature—is never 
a victim." 

Her book, “Roseanne: My Life as a 
Woman,” became a best-seller. And Rose- 
anne has increasingly become one of the most 
powerful women in television, prompting 
“TV Guide” to call her this generation's Lu- 
cille Ball. 

Tom's career took a bumpier path. After 
winning a Twin Cities Laugh Competition, 
he arrived in Los Angeles from Minneapolis 
in 1988, trying to build a career in come- 
dy—and to forget such instances as a three- 
day stay in jail for urinating outside a 
restaurant, His old road buddy Roseanne 
took him in, despite the fact that she was still 
married to (but separated from) her former 
husband, Bill Pentland. 

By then, Roseanne’s public troubles had 
begun. The media took her to task for staff 
upheavals on “Roseanne.” There was a pal- 
imony suit by her ex-husband and weird, ex- 
hibitionist behavior as Roseanne and Tom 
greeted the world as a couple: They showed 
Off their tattoos in public and mooned peo- 
ple. She fired two managers and filed a law- 
suit—since settled—against her former 
agency, Triad, for mishandling her career. 
And let's not forget her rendition of the na- 
tional anthem, which earned her the enmity 
of President George Bush. She also came ош 
as an incest survivor, causing her parents 
and siblings to denounce her publicly and 
leaving some in the media lo wonder if 
Roseanne was telling the truth. 

There's more: a flurry of harassment by 
the tabloids, including stolen love letters and 
claims of house-trashing; the rediscovery, via 
tabloid, of the daughter Roseanne gave up 
for adoption at 18; fisifights with photogra- 
phers who annoyed them; caustic letters sent 
to journalists who criticized them; continu- 
ing battles with weight and other compul- 
sions; an operation to untie her Fallopian 
tubes; breast reduction and other plastic 
surgeries; construction of a 26,000-square- 
foot house in lowa—the largest in the 
slate—as their primary residence because, as 
they like to say, “We hate Hollywood.” 

But the biggest source of controversy was 
the relationship between Tom and Roseanne. 
Tom was well known as a guy whose cocaine 
binges were so bad he sometimes hallucinat- 
ed thal there were cameras in the walls mak- 
ing a drug-abuse documentary—with him as 
the star. Her family and soon-to-be-ex-hus- 
band called him a homewrecker, Some in 
Hollywood thought he was a talentless hang- 
er-on, riding on Roseanne’s skirttail, Others 
saw him as a Svengali who took over 
Roseanne’s life and manipulated her into 
naming him executive producer of her show. 

These events and others were fully docu- 
mented in the tabloids, on talk shows and in 
the gossip columns. Yet despite the extensive 
media exposure, the Araolds still confuse 
and fascinate people. To find out why, we 
sent Contributing Editor Dovid Rensin to get 
the untold story. He met with the couple on 
and off for nine months at their Brentwood, 


ғо California home, on the “Roseanne” set and 


at their temporary trailer in Iowa, next to 
the site of their as yet unfinished mansion. 
Rensin’s report: 

“The Tom and Roseanne I met were not 
the Tom and Roseanne the media led me to 
expect. For all the attention they've received, 
it scems that everyone wants either to sani- 
tize the Arnolds or to sensationalize triv- 
ial aspects of their lives. Roseanne often 
complains that the press leaves out great 
chunks of what she says in its reports. One 
reason they agreed to talk to me at such 
length was that, for once, they could hold 
forth uncensored. 

“The two seem like a perfect couple. Dur- 
ing our sessions, their love was evident and 
their friendship even more so. Roseanne ra- 
diates both vulnerability and self-confidence, 
while Tom is a mountain of support and pa- 
tience, even if he can’t sit still for more than 
five seconds. 

"The Arnolds are everywhere. Their 
names are thrust into our collective con- 
sciousness constantly, We began by asking 
them why they get so much attention.” 


PLAYBOY: There's hardly a day when 
your name isn't in a magazine, a news- 


Roseanne: "I still have se- 
crets I haven't told anyone.” 
Tom: “No, you don't. You 
used them up on ‘Donahue’ 
and ‘Sally Jessy Raphaël.” 


paper or mentioned on TV. How do 
you explain America's fascination with 
Roseanne? 

ROSEANNE: It's because I'm so goddamn 
cool. 

PLAYBOY: What's so cool about you? 
ROSEANNE: I'd rather be sorry than safe. 
I'm interesting because I'm not afraid to 
think, to make mistakes, to disagree, to 
stand alone. I’m not going to tell some- 
onc I like them if I don't. I can't work 
with people I don't respect. I'm not 
afraid to fight. 

PLAYBOY: Clearly. You always scem to be 
involved in a controversy. 

ROSEANNE: Some of my controversies 
Ive chosen, a lot I haven't—they' rc 
thrust upon me just because I'm me. 
PLAYBOY: What do you mean? 
ROSEANNE: | made up my mind when I 
got into show business that I was always 
going to be honest and wouldn't try to 
hide anything. 

PLAYBOY: That’s certainly not standard 
operating procedure in Hollywood. 
ROSEANNE: That's why I like it. Look, 
I'm a comic. I'm not the fucking presi- 
dent. Everything comics do is to ex- 


pose hypocrisy and dishonesty, so why 
wouldn't I be honest, for Christ's sake? 
Besides, I'm not ashamed of anything 
I've done or lived through. 

PLAYBOY: But don't you sometimes reveal 
100 much? 

ROSEANNE: I still have secrets I haven't 
told anyone. 

TOM: No, you don't. You used them up 
on Donahue and Sally Jessy Raphael. 
ROSEANNE: I've never just gone out and 
flapped my mouth. I dont talk about 
anything that I'm not comfortable with 
or haven't decided beforehand to talk 
about. I make those choices after a lot of 
thought. I don't talk about my sexual 
fantasies like Madonna does. 1 didn’t 
pose for a book and call it Sex. I'm 
not self-promoting to make money. 1 
say what I say because my fans want to 
hear it. 

PLAYBOY: Hear what? 

ROSEANNE: Stuff about child abuse, for 
instance. It’s never brought up, so I'm 
going to do it. It's the stuff that’s sup- 
posed to be silent, and I'm prepared to 
break all kinds of silences. 
PLAYBOY: We'll come to that topi 
while, but— 

TOM: If Madonna were in recovery and 
got to the point where she could talk 
about that kind of stuff, it would help a 
lot of people, too. For recovering alco- 
holics and recovering sex-abuse victims, 
part of recovery is talking about it. 
PLAYBOY: What do you mean "if Madon 
na were in recovery"? Are you saying she 
may have incest or abuse issues herself? 
TOM: I assume that she's in such a vacu- 
um, as was Elvis Presley with his drug 
problem. Who's going to get to her to 
help her? 

ROSEANNE: Her whole attitude about sex 
is that of a sex addict. Sex addicts are to- 
tally devoid of any spirituality, any con- 
nection to the rest of their lives. That's 
what she’s touting as liberation, but it's 
not. It’s the opposite of liberation. 
PLAYBOY: Have you spoken with her 
about this? 

ROSEANNE: No. As if she'd fucking listen 
to me. Га like to talk to her about it be- 
cause I think she’s talented and I think 
it’s sad. She's very vulnerable. Also very 
intelligent. I don't know if Madonna's 
problem is incest, but being obsessed 
with your sexuality is a sign that you've 
been sexually abused. 

PLAYBOY: Really? 

ROSEANNE: Ycah. It's not normal to be 
only about sex. Anybody who has it as 
number one is fucked up. You can quote 
me on that. Her entire art is about that. 
Maybe when you're an adolescent, sex is 
really number one. But not when you're 
an adult, or a parent. Sex isn't gross or 
dirty or anything like that. I just don't 
like it when people shove it down our 
throats like it's supposed to make up for 
all the other stuff that's been taken away. 
Madonna talks about how people have 


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sexual hang-ups that she's trying to 
loosen them from. People are too loose 
about sex. They fecl there's nothing con- 
nected to our bodies, our spirits, our 
minds, our lives about sex. Meanwhile, 
there's tons of abuse going on. Hardly 
anything is being done about child sexu- 
al abuse and the way it's handled in the 
courts, in the media, everywhere. That's 
what I feel I was put on the earth for, 
and I'm going to do it. And I have been 
doing it. 

PLAYBOY: So it's blowtorch time for child 
abusers? 

ROSEANNE: A-bomb time. 

TOM: We believe that a lot of judges are 
pedophiles. 

ROSEANNE: And that a lot of lawmakers 
are, too. 

tom: That's the only way you can cx- 
plain it. 

PLAYBOY: Explain what? 

ROSEANNE: Powerful businessmen, peo- 
ple with power and money. They all pro- 
tect one another. But we also have pow- 
er and we're going to do something 
about it, even if it is just to talk. 

PLAYBOY: Let's get back to you. As well- 
intentioned as you are, wont this subject. 
create. more of the controversy some 
people—including your sister Steph- 
anie—suggest you need? 

ROSEANNE: I'm not addicted to contro- 
versy To hear that pisses me off. I don't 
like controversy. I didn't think going 
public about incest and child abuse 
would be offensive. 1 thought it would be 
important, I do it because I have the 
public's саг. And because people need 
to listen. 

PLAYBOY: But abuse issues arc only a frac- 
tion of what has kept your name in the 
headlines. 

ROSEANNE: Well, 1 didn't think showing 
my tattoo would be so incredibly shock- 
ing, but it turned out to be. And if 1 
knew how people were going to freak 
when I sang the national anthem, 1 
wouldn't have done it. 

PLAYBOY: The latest uproar is over your 
faxing caustic notes to TV critics who 
lambasted The Jackie Thomas Show. 
ROSEANNE: 1 will fax people for the rest 
of my fucking career and my life. So be 
watching! 

Tom: Madonna started faxing after Rosie 
did. People want her to fax. They'll write 
bad reviews now and go, “Please fax 
me.” And she doesn't just send one, she 
sends twenty. 

ROSEANNE: It’s so that one fucker can't 
get no money о! It's just a copy 
an original. Otherwise they'd give it to 
their grandkids and try to make money 
off it. 

PLAYBOY: Of the three critics you've 
faxed, your missive to USA Today's Matt 
Roush was the most controversial be- 


62 cause of references to his sexuality. You 


say the fax was private, but he made it 
public. 

ROSEANNE: He once revicwed Tom's ca- 
ble special and said it was the worst thing 
on TV and that he hated Tom, and that 
if Tom gets a show he's never going to 
watch it and that he never w; 
show when Toms on. That i 
that's a personal attack. I personally at- 
tacked him so he would know what it felt 
like. I wrote, “You're in no position to 
judge anything about heterosexuals.” 
PLAYBOY: 
ROSEANNE: He absolutely is gay. 1 could 
tell by the way he wrote the review. It 
was heterophobic. It was full of fear and 
loathing for a heterosexual male. You 
can read homophobia, you can also read 
heterophobia. If you're a student of the 
media, you can tell everything about 
people—their race, culture, ete —by the 
way they write. Writers are so fucking 
smug they think they're above all the 
things that make them up, but they're 
not. They're not godlike, they're human 
beings, and I get tired of their smugness. 
PLAYBOY: Until this latest flurry of media 
activity, your camp had been calm for 
about six months. And all of a sudden, 
just when people were starting 10 
think. 
ROSEANNE: I am never going to be that 
calm or whatever they think I'm going to 
turn into. Гт not. If they don't get it by 
now, it's time to wake up. I'm not Cin- 
derella and I'm not a fucking princess. 
I'm me and I have a big mouth. I am 
never going to shut up. 

Tom: And it's not like we needed the 
publicity. At the time, Roseanne was num- 
ber two for the week and The Jackie 
Thomas Show had just premiered. 
PLAYBOY: So we can always count on your 
taking offense at something? 

ROSEANNE: Of course. Now you get it. 1 
could cause all kinds of trouble every 
fucking day if 1 wanted to. But I don't 
want to because I want to live my life. 
PLAYBOY: You're slowing down? 
ROSEANNE: Yeah. I'm not quite as angry 
as I was in the past. I'm healthier. But 
things still tick me off. And pompous ass- 
holes tick me off—not that I'm not a 
pompous asshole in my own right. 
PLAYBOY: Don't you ever worry about 
overexposure? 

ROSEANNE: It’s funny, but the more | do, 
the more people ask me to do. I'm not 
just a one-note sitcom actor. I'm a per- 
former, a writer, a producer, an actress, 
a personality, a stand-up comic and a 
spokeswoman. And I don't mind if peo- 
ple think of me as a fat, jolly hou 
either That's also part of me. Everything 
I do has several levels to it because 1 
want as many people as possible to get 
my work 

TOM: In Hollywood stardom is like gold. 
1f you hide out, people are supposed to 
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up. It’s different with Rosie. Her per- 
sona is so accessible that people need to 
see her. Everything she does is the high- 
est-rated. The Saturday Night Live we did 
was the highest-rated one in ten years. 
And during sweeps week, every top 
show wants her. Her fans can't get 
enough. 

PLAYBOY: You realize that some people 
find you offensive. 

TOM: People who get offended by us of- 
fend me. 

ROSEANNE: There are reasons why peo- 
ple are oflended, and those reasons are 
hideously offensive. Fuck 'em, I don't 
give a shit. I hope they are offended. But 
1 don't go out there to offend, I just go 
out there to be me. The fact that I'm a 
Jewish woman offends a lot of fucking 
people. That I'm breathing and that Im 
a Jew is very offensive to a lot of people, 
to really get down to it. I don't care 
about them. I hope they are offended 
Not even hope they are—I don't give 
a shit. 

PLAYBOY: What guides you? 

ROSEANNE: My whole career is guided by 
God, so that's why I don’t have to answer 
to any earthly shit. 

PLAYBOY: That explains everything. 
ROSEANNE: I take ultimate responsibility 
for everything I do. But if 1 feel that God 
wants me to do something, I'll do it even 
if I don't want to. 

PLAYBOY: What has God told you to do? 
ROSEANNE: To come out as an incest sur- 
vivor. I didn't want to do that. It was very 
painful for me. But I felt God wanted me 
to blow the lid off it, to make it come in- 
to the light because it could save a lot of 
children. 

PLAYBOY: Anything career-wise? 
ROSEANNE: Yeah, all my career is God 
stuff, too. 

PLAYBOY: Let's be crystal clear here, so 
this doesn't end up on the cover of some 
tabloid. 

TOM: He's right, honey. You have to be 
very clear on this. 

ROSEANNE: I ат being clear. It's a deeply 
spiritual feeling. 175 within me. It's not 
a disembodied voice ing from within 
a plant. I feel something within that 1 
know is God-consciousness. It leads me 
to do certain things. I think God talks to 
everybody. He or She doesn’t talk to just 
me. If we're really going to get down to 
it, I'm here for godly purpose. 

PLAYBOY: Are the two of you believers in 
reincarnation? 

ROSEANNE: ] believe in every religious 
tenetand more. 

TOM: What does “tenet” mean? 

PLAYBOY: Principle. 

TOM: What about the one that says the 
more Jews you kill, the more whores you 
get in heaven? 

ROSEANNE: A whore in heaven? I hadn't 


ва heard of that one. I was talking more 


about God and consciousness and belief 
rather than how we degrade ourselves 
and one another, I don't believe in that 
iritual but I don't believe in 
ion. “Roseanne, do you hear 
Just ask me that. 

PLAYBOY: Roseanne, do you hear voices? 
ROSEANNE: [Chuckles] Yeah. “Roscanne, 
do you think you're Joan of Arc?” Go 
ahead. Ask me. 

PLAYBOY: Roseanne, do you think you're 
Joan of Arc? 

ROSEANNE: Yes. 

Tom: Do you really? 

ROSEANNE: Somewhat like that. 

TOM: But you don't think you're that 
Joan of Arc. C'mon. I'm going to call Ar- 
lene. Stay with me here. 

ROSEANNE: He's gonna call my therapist. 
PLAYBOY: Perhaps you're speaking met- 
aphorically—a feeling of having been 
figuratively burned at the stake. 
ROSEANNE: Yes, absolutely. 

TOM: Joan of Arc died. Only a few 
have risen above that and become 
muli ionaires. 

ROSEANNE: He's very pragmati 

PLAYBOY: And on that note, isn't it true 


shit. I'm 


Roseanne: "My whole 
career is guided by God, 
so that's why I don't 
have to answer to any 
earthly shit." 


that statements such as these bring prob- 
lems on yourself? 

ROSEANNE: That just excuses all the ass- 
holes from being assholes, all the sexists 
from being sexists. I don't like being 
torn apart in public for no damn good 
reason when I’m just being myself. My 
plan has always been to stay two years 
ahead of the media because that’s where 
the rest of the country is. That way, they 
can't figure me out, try to squash me and 
dispose of me. Get it? The media are so 
unhip they're two years behind. Fortu- 
nately, staying two years ahead ain't hard 
because the media, for the most part, are 
a bunch of lunkheads. 

PLAYBOY: Didn't the media attacks really 
start when you wanted more control of 
Roseanne? 

ROSEANNE: Yeah. But it's directly related 
to the power—their word—that 1 as- 
sumed by firing a male producer. But 
any thinking person is potentially a 
threat to the ruling class. 

TOM; І thought it was weird when every- 
body was up in arms all over the country 
about the trouble she bad on the show. 


Its not like she was kicking ass at the 
Vatican, clearing people out of there. 
She was doing a TV show, Think about 
it: It’s a stupid TV show. 

PLAYBOY: On one hand the media want 
your drawing power, and on the other 
they're saying, "Dor't you know that you 
being you is offensive?" 

ROSEANNE: We are not Mr. and Mrs. 
Robert Stack, nor will we ever be. 

TOM: Unless they take an ugly turn. 
ROSEANNE: To whitewash us means to 
take the working class out of us. But we 
have no interest їп moving up to the 
bourgeoisie. 

PLAYBOY: Nonetheless, you're making 
good use of your success and money. А 
fancy house. A Bentley in the drivew: 
The huge spread in Iowa. Jewelry. Your 
new diner in Eldon, Iowa. 

ROSEANNE: Well, 1 can buy a whole 
bunch of shit. It's cool. But our values 
and political ideals aren't any different. 
We're sull pro-union all the way. Tom 
used to work in a meat-packing plant. 
Money and success didn't change noth- 
ing except that now we can get in really 
good restaurants. We don't have to wait 
in line. 

PLAYBOY: Tom, you once said that you 
1wo are "America's worst nightmare— 
white trash with money." 

TOM: That really scares people. What are 
they going to do about us? We're fa- 
mous, we have a lot of moncy, what the 
fuck are they going to do? People can 
still be rude, but we can do whatever 
we want. And that’s great. Fortunately, 
we're nice and we don’t abuse people. 
ROSEANNE: We're not sleazy. 

TOM: We can be a little naive, but we've 
learned a lot. [Belches loudly) 

ROSEANNE: Like not belching or eating 
during interviews 

TOM: No, never learned that. 

PLAYBOY: Do you like television? 
ROSEANNE: I am the hugest couch pota- 
to. I love TV, watch it all the time. I hate 
anybody who says “I never watch TV” or 
“I only watch PBS.” That person is а 
fucking idiot and should be slapped se- 
verely because TV is totally where it’s a 
On the other hand, most people who c 
tique TV, who write about TV, don't like 
TV—and that's the other fucking funny 
thing about it. That I, one of the world’s 
biggest couch potatoes, am on TV repre- 
sents a victory for all couch potatoes, for 
all people on the other side of the tube. 1 
got through. I made it. My show is ex- 
actly the show I wanted to see on TV. 
The medium is absolutely the fucking 
message. Fuck film. That’s for preten- 
tious, egotistical, elitist assholes. 
PLAYBOY: Probal no television series 
did more to depict the bleakness of the 
recession. How do you take to the idea 
that Roseanne played a great part in get- 
ting George Bush kicked out of office? 


RULE *27 


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| PEOPLE CAN 
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à ( PIONEER 


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PLAYBOY 


ROSEANNE: Thanks. I өсі out to do 
just that 

TOM: Two years ago. We never wanted to 
mention it, but we wanted to show 
ROSEANNE: We wanted to show what was 
going on. 

TOM: What the American 
going through politically. 
ROSEANNE: I've 
been offended by all 
this talk of the great 
upward mobility in 
America. 1 wanted 
to say, Hey that 
isn't whats fucking 
happening, not in 
my world and not 
in the majority of 
people's worlds 
And it ain't right. 
Jobs got sent over- 
seas. Who got rich? 
Those fuckers and 
their buddies. 

TOM: And then they 
blame the Japanese. 
1 love how they al- 
у manage to 
blame the Japanese 
ROSEANNE: They al- 
ways blame another 
race. 

PLAYBOY: How do 
you two feel about 
George Bush now? 
TOM: Let me tell 
you a story. We had 


family was 


Loreua Lynn on 
the show earlier this 
year— 


ROSEANNE: She's 
friends with Bush. 
She says that she 
came unglued ай 
over him for what 
he said about me. 
She had fucked up 
the national an- 
them, too. 

том: ГИ tell it so it 
doesnt sound like 
you're telling it 
ROSEANNE: OK, go 
for it. 

TOM: So Loretta 
said that Bush took 
her aside and said, 
“You know what? I 
screwed up. 1 was 
too hard on Rose- 
anne. I know she 
was doing her best. 
The pres put a 
microphone in my 
face and 1 said she was disgraceful. 1 
screwed up and 1 always felt bad about 
that." That was pretty cool of him. 
PLAYBOY: How's the show going to 
change now that Clinton's in? 

TOM: The Conners will win the lottery. 
ROSEANNE: We have no idea if Clinton i: 


66 going to be any better or any worse. The 


only thing we liked about him was that 
he ignited a little bit of hope in people 
And we're always for hope. 

TOM: And civil rights and women's 
rights. If he sucks by those things, then 
he's our man 

ROSEANNE: And if he doesn't do what 
he said he was going to do, well be 


Contoured pouch for comfort and support. 


on his shit, 100. 

PLAYBOY: You went to the inaugur 
TOM: Yeah, we liked it, 

PLAYBOY: Have any private moments 
with the president? 

ROSEANNE: We met him once. 

TOM: I blew him 

ROSEANNE: Honey! 


tion? 


том: Yeah, we think he and Hillary are 
real nice. We especially like him because 
he also survived the media. They're sur- 
vivors within their marriage. Thats a 
great example for a lot of people. 
PLAYBOY; What were you thinking when, 
as a housewife with three kids, you start- 
ed out to make it as a comic? 
ROSEANNE: When 
the Eighúes started, 
I thought it was 
time that a woman 
spoke as а wom- 
an about being a 
woman. My back- 
ground was ten 
years of feminist 
politics. Reagan was 
in, I was working 
in a feminist book- 
store in Denver 
Budgets were being 
slashed for women 
and children. 1 re- 
member panicking 
because we knew 
one homeless per- 
son. And things 
were getting worse. 
So I decided t0 get 
vocal, to go out and 
start yelling because 
nothing else had 
worked. Гуе always 
taken up causes. 
Гуе always had 
something to say. 1 
suppose because of 
my fucking weird 
life, my family 
problems and being 
raised as a Jew in 
Utah, Гуе always 
been very interest- 
ed in exposing the 
rotting core of 
everything. I got 
disgusted and went 
through a march- 
ing-and-speaking 
phase. Then I got 
amused. Then I be- 
came a comic. 
PLAYBOY: Do you 
recall the transi- 
tion that took you 
from disgusted to 
amused to the com- 
edy stage? 
ROSEANNE: Just be- 
fore I was to give a 
speech at the Uni- 
versity of Colorado 
at Boulder about 
feminist ethics, using these four-dollar 
academentia words, 1 suddenly realized 
that there was no such thing as feminist 
ethics because there was no such thing as 
feminism anywhere in the world. 
PLAYBOY: That would probably surprise a 
lot of feminists. 

ROSEANNE: ICs not allowed to exist. It 


threatens the status quo power struc- 
ture, It rises up and is squashed, over 
and over. 

PLAYBOY: By status quo, do you mean 
male status quo? 

ROSEANNE: It’s way beyond that because 
women have bought into it, too, and 
they profit from it. 1 don't buy this men 
against women stuff. The status quo 
starts with hierarchical thinking. That's 
the core of everything that’s wrong. It 
comes from the idea that man is above 
пац Then its man above woman— 
one half of the race serving the other, 
ad infinitum, in endless subdivisions. 
That's an ecofeminist viewpoint. 
PLAYBOY: Critics have said that you are 
antimale 

ROSEANNE: | dont blame men. That 
makes me gag. We all 
TOM: [Nudges Roseanne] You hate men. 
You know, men. 

ROSEANNE: І have never said I hate men 
You're full of shit, 1 have not said that. 
TOM: You used to say it. 

ROSEANNE: But did І say that today? |70 
interviewer] No, because Tom has totally 
mellowed me. 

And tell him what changed you, the 
ne that — 

ROSEANNE: Oh, please. 

TOM: You said it befo 
ROSEANNE: I'm not going to say it in this 
interview 

TOM: Oh, ОК. 


ROSEANNE: Shall I tell him that line? 
TOM: Yes, dear 

ROSEANNE: 115 gonna piss everybody off. 
[Pauses] I used to be a feminist, until the 
first time Tom grabbed me by the hair, 
threw me up against the wall and fucked 
me in the as: 
TOM: What’ 
that's nice. 
ROSEANNE: Yeah, that is nice. That's 
every guys fantasy—that his wiener 
saved your life. 

TOM: Funny you'd use the term wiener 
after saying "fucked in the ass." 
ROSEANNE: [hat's one of the things that 
makes me so charming. [70 Tóm] Maybe 
you should leave. I have to go on about 
my feminist ethics. 

TOM: Hey, l'd like to hear them, too. 
Honey, will you make me dinner? 
ROSEANNE: Fuck off. 

PLAYBOY: So, you had a revelation? 
ROSEANNE: | decided to talk about how 
things are, not how they should be; to stop 
dealing with theoretical shit and start 
telling the truth—a revolutionary act. 
PLAYBOY: Why haven't you talked to the 
media about your feminist background 
or beliefs before 
ROSEANNE: I've talked about this stuff to 
the media for years, but it never gets 
printed, The media only want to hear 
about how much 1 eat because it's threat- 
ening to read about a woman who has vi- 
sion and a fucking brain. That there's a 


wrong with that? 1 think 


woman as pissed off as I am should be 
everywhere, not only in Ms. It’s simple. 
I'm just sick of the shit like, “The fat, jol- 
ly Roseanne loves to eat her brownies. 
would like it for once to be about me as 
an artist rather than only the sensational 
aspects of my personal life—which, of 
1 don't mind talking about, ei- 
d like it to be about my body of 
work, not just my body. ГЇЇ be watching 
to see how this one comes out. 
What if, when people read this, 
they think, This woman is just blowing 
smoke through her ass. She should go 
back to being funny, 
ROSEANNE: That's funny. They probably 
will think that. 
PLAYBOY: You once said, “Stand. 
victory over my whole life.” Why? 
ROSEANNI medy is the only chance I 
have to speak about what its like being 
a woman in this culture. 1 knew at first 
you be- 
lieve the things she says?" One joke was: 
"Men are here for one reason only: to 
serve me, to bring back food and build a 
comfortable hive for me and my larvae, 
to willingly move on when it's time for a 
younger drone with more stamina. Oh, 
call me old-fashioned." Thars pretty 
radical to say your second time on The 
Tonight Show. Frightening. Threatening. 
PLAYBOY: Obviously not that threatening. 
ROSEANNE: | used to be the most foul- 
mouthed comic. But I figured out how 


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to take a radical thought and make it 
mainstream through wording and pack- 
aging. Instead of espousing political the- 
ory, I changed it into women's point- 
of-view jokes. But it wasn't just role re- 
versal. I didn’t want to have a husband 
named Fang, because that had already 
been done—and very well. Men became 
the butt of my jokes, only I tried not 
to be mean-spirited. I joked about how 
we women thought instead of how we 
looked. About our hypocrisy. As for 
packaging, I used the cover of being 
everyone's fat mother, fat neighbor. I 
used a funny voice 

PLAYBOY: A thin, shapely woman couldn't 
say those things? 

TOM: If an insecure man looks at 
Roseanne, instead of having to deal with 
who she is, he says, "She's crazy and 
she's fat.” That way he doesn't have to 
deal with the fact that she's powertul, in- 
telligent and brilliant. Oprah is another 
great example. Men think, Oh, she's fat. 
That way it’s OK for them to be average. 
That's how men get by with their pride. 
PLAYBOY: Weight has been a constant bat- 
tle for each of you, but you've both 
slimmed down. 

TOM: We just don't want to get huge. 
ROSEANNE: We wouldn't be able to have 
sex if we weighed five hundred pounds. 
Well, we'd probably figure out a way. 
PLAYBOY: Can America accept a thin 
Roseanne? 


ROSEANNE: Who gives a shit? 
PLAYBOY: OK, we'll move on. From the 
first season of Roseanne there have been 
problems with producers and writers. Is 
the turnover on your show any more un- 
usual than the turnover on other shows? 
ROSEANNE: No. We have a different rule 
from other shows. We turn over our 
writers every two years, for the sake of 
freshness. 

TOM: At least. Bob Meyers, the guy who 
people say we most recently fired, is 
writing our movie for Jon Peters, He was 
up with us to win the Golden Globe. 
He's a great guy. We gave him a Rolex. 1 
recruit writers knowing that every two 
years ГИ turn them over. 

PLAYBOY: Do you tell them this? 

TOM: Do they know it? Hey, I hire them 
for one season at a time, then ГИ renew 
them for another season. You know 
where they go when they move on from 
our show? They move up a notch and 
run other shows. 

ROSEANNE: They don't disappear and 
start selling shoes. They get multimil- 
lion-dollar deals at Disney. 

PLAYBOY: Are you angry you've never 
won an Emmy? 

ROSEANNE: If and when I get one, I al- 
ready have my speech. 

PLAYBOY: What is it? 

ROSEANNE: "Now what the hell am 1 
gonna bitch about?" And then I'm gone. 
That's all I'm going to say. 


PLAYBOY: You once took out an ad in a 
Hollywood trade paper that read: “Hol- 
Iywood isa back-stabbing, scum-sucking, 
small-minded town. But thanks for the 
money." Do you really believe that? 
ROSEANNE: Yeah, There are plenty of 
small-minded, judgmental people. And 
there are great people out here, too. 
PLAYBOY: Your opinions on this matter 
are quite judgmental. 

ROSEANNE: Let's just say there's a limit to 
my bullshit. 

TOM: When | first came to town, I 
thought it was about quality, but it's 
about politics. On our show we spend so 
much time on the quality, we don't have 
time for the poliucs. We only have a cer- 
хат amount of time. True? 

ROSEANNE: Yeah, really. Not enough 
time to kiss ass. Hey, I finally figured out 
what my problem is: I just don't know 
how to kiss ass. Now, it's not like I can't 
get along with nobody, because I will 
suck the dick. But I'd rather suck di 
than kiss ass, because sucking the dick is 
a decent business proposition. You get 
your twenty bucks up front. I don't 
know how much it’s going for now, but 
in my day it was twenty. You make the 
deal, you do the thing. It’sa finite thing, 
if you know how to do it right. But kiss- 
ing ass just goes on and on in the hope 
that people someday will appreciate it. 
They never do because they just want 
you to kiss their ass more. They're like, 


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“Hey, Roscanne, could you kiss my 
friend's ass, too? And bring him a cup of 
coffee on your way back.” I tell you what: 
I'll take a cocksucker over an ass-kisser 
any day. That's the American way. 

TOM: What's bad is when you spend 
years and years kissing the wrong ass. 
PLAYBOY: Didn't you once say that you 
expected the writers and producers of 
Козеаппе to kiss your ass? 

ROSEANNE: 1 said, "Let me just under- 
stand something. How come you all are 
not kissing my ass, since I let you work 
on my fucking show?" They were really 
shocked. They thought that I should 
be kissing their asses because they had 
given me a television show. 

PLAYBOY: Aren't you 
somewhat grateful? 
ROSEANNE: | was 
supposed to just 
show up and do it 
and be grateful— 
like Tim Allen, 
whose Home Im- 
provement show is а 
total rip-off of my 
show. 

PLAYBOY: Matt Wil- 
liams, the first Rose- 
anne producer you 
fired, is running 
that show. 
ROSEANNE: | wish 
Matt Williams the 
very best. We had 
our big fight over 
the “Created By" 
credit, and when he 
got it, in my mind, 
he was gone. But 
just about every- 
thing I blamed him 
for I have since 
found out was not 
his fault He was a 
victim like me. 
PLAYBOY: A victim of 
what? 

ROSEANNE: My for- 
mer agents. They 
sold me down the 
river. They were 
supposed to get me 
my "Created By" 
credit. Instead, they were so concerned 
about their packaging deal that they sold 
me out for shit, which put me head-to- 
head with Matt in the first place. So he 
did some desperate things like humili- 
ate me in front of the cast. I don't like 
him for that, but it don't mean nothing 
anymore 

PLAYBOY: Have you told Tim Allen any 
of this? 

ROSEANNE: I told him, “Matt's going to 
try to get your “Created Ву credit, and 
ils your act. So you make sure you get 
the credit.” Well, Matt got it and then 
Tim was all pissed. He got the “Creati 
Consultant" shit that Matt gave me, too. 
But Tim said, "I'm not going to fight it 


bccause I'm just lucky to be on TV and 
have my own show." Which is exactly 
how I didn't think. When I was in Tim's 
position, Г told them I couldn't under- 
stand how they were so out of it and ar- 
тоқаш. I wasn't going to be grateful 
when I was doing all the fucking work. 
TOM: Here's the system: You come into 
town, you get fucked over. Then you get 
fucked over again, and then you get 
fucked over again. Then you а; 
it, I'm going to get what's mine. 
the only way to get what's yours 
you've already lost, is to fuck over other 
people. And that continues the cycle. 
PLAYBOY: You forced out another pro- 
ducer, Jeff Harris. Then he took out a 


ASPEN: A mans cologne 


trade ad that said he was taking a vaca- 
tion in the relative peace and quiet of 
Bei t 
ROSEANNE: And I answered back, “They 
wont think you're funny in Beirut, 
either." He tried to fire Tom all the time. 
His whole life became about firing Tom. 
"Then Tom choked him. It was fun. 
PLAYBOY: Did you physically choke him? 
TOM: He walked into my office and tried 
to fire me. Sat down with his big cigar 
and said, “Well, it's not working out.” I 
go, "Yep, it's not." And then he goes, “So 
1 want you to move on." I go, “What? 
What are you saying? 

"I want you to clean out your office 

I go, “What?” 


“Cease and desist.” 

Then I lost it on him. “Get the fuck 
out of here. You're fired, man. I'm going 
to have your office.” 

ROSEANNE: And he does have his office. 
PLAYBOY: Were you married at the time? 
ROSEANNE: We were living together 
Thats how people are here: Their arro- 
gance blinds them. 

TOM: Do you think they'd fire Cosby's 
wife? Hell, no. What kind of balls would 
you have to have to do something that 
stupid? Of course, at first, he told you he 
wanted to fire me and you said to me, 
“Sorry, honey.” I said, “What do you 
mean he's going to fire me? It’s your 
show." You go, “Oh, yeah!” 

ROSEANNE: І real- 
ized, fuck, it is my 
show. I realized that 
after you choked 
him. Tom comes 
down and goes, “I'll 
fire his ass! He's not 
going to fucking 
fire те!” 

TOM: “He's going to 
have to fucking car- 
ry me out of here.” 
I have been fired 
three times on the 
show. 

ROSEANNE: Tell him 
about when I fired 
you, honey. 

TOM: | was fired 
from the first show. 
I was the warm-up 
guy. I was so bad, I 
deserved it. Then 
Rosie fired me my 
first day as a writer 
because we had an 
argument. І got 
hired back the sec- 
опа day. She had 
called to apologize 
that evening, won- 
dering if we could 
still talk on the 
phone as friends. I 
said, "What the 
fuck? Fuck you!" 
ROSEANNE So he 
hung up on me 
TOM: I was so pissed. Then I went back 
to work the next day. 

PLAYBOY: Now you work together and 
you go home together. 

TOM: We like that a lot. 

ROSEANNE: It's not like we're constantly 
hugging, kissing and chatting. Most of 
the day we ignore each other. 

TOM: Although, you would like that if we 
hugged and chatted all day. 

ROSEANNE: 1 would like that if we did, 
but he ignores me 

Tom: I got a lot to do, man. Just like 
you do. 

ROSEANNE: I tell him he's really kind of a 
boring guy. Once you get past the ve- 
neer, he's just a regular boring husband 


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who just wants to watch sports all the 
fucking time. And I'm a regular bitchy 
wife who just wants to go out and do 
something. 

TOM: Yet, when we do go out and do 
something, she doesn't like it because 
she realizes her true love is bitching 
about never doing anything. And once 
you start taking her out, you take that 
away from her. 

PLAYBOY: ABC has given you a two-year 
renewal for $2 million per show. Where 
does the money go? 

TOM: The show's license fee was report- 
ed at $2 million. 

ROSEANNE: It's incorrect. 

TOM: It’s far off. They don't know. 
ROSEANNE: Nobody knows. 
TOM: If they knew the figu 
scare everybody. 

ROSEANNE: Honey, tell him 
in his ear] 

TOM: OK. I can tell you that Ros 
highest paid entertainer e 
should be. She has a bigger deal than 
Cosby's. 

PLAYBOY: You're well paid. Are you also a 
good actres: 
ROSEANNE: I'm а great actress. 

PLAYBOY: How proud are you of your 
movie debut in She-Devil? 

ROSEANNE: What a fucking piece of shit, 
huh? It wasa terrible disappointment to 
me. Imagine, my first movie, with Meryl 
Streep. Sylvia Miles апа Linda Hunt 
How much more incredible can you get? 
I was honored and in awe. But the direc- 
tion stank. Susan Seidelman [the direc- 
tor] fucked up my movie career. 
PLAYBOY: Did you talk to her about this? 
ROSEANNE: No. She asked me what I was 
going to do to promote the movie and I 
said, "I don't know, what are you going 
to do about my fucking career, which 
you ruined?" I'm only getting movie of- 
fers again now, after two years. 

PLAYBOY: What do you think about 
Howard Stern, who's been making lots 
of fat jokes at your expense. such as: 
“Imagine Roseanne naked" 

TOM: Imagine him naked! 
ROSEANNE: We hear about it. He's pissed. 
because we won't come on his show. But 
if someone is a jack-off like Howard 
Stern and everyone knows it, Pm not go- 
ing to get angry at that. Besides, next to 
Joey Ramone, no one is uglier than 
Howard Stern. 

TOM: But Joey's talented. Joey's a leg 
end. Howard thinks that when he goes 
home to his wife that OK, because 


‚ it would 


[Whispers 


as she 


с 
he's just offensive for a living, But that's 
bullshit. It has repercussions. He's of- 
fending survivors of incest, women. He’s 
racist as hell, Listening to him makes you 
hate Jews, because he's Jewish. 

PLAYBOY: Let's get back to an carlier sub- 
ject: incest and child abuse. Some people 
don't believe your story and think it’s an- 
other publicity ploy or the work of an 


unstable mind. Even People ran an article 
exploring the veracity of your claim. 
ROSEANNE; Like I couldn't think of any- 
thing beuer than to say Im a survivor of 
incest. Like I couldn't come up with a 
better media event than that. Like 1 
dont е enough money or my show 
isnt number two. What the fuck did 1 
have to gain from that—except for judg- 
mental people going, “Oh, it's another 
Roseanne thing”? Well, they weren't 
there. Fuck them. Just fuck them. They 
really piss me off. People say this stuff 
about any survivor who comes forward. 
They try to discredit you. And that's part 
of the reason why it continues, why 
it’s accepted. To question any victim is 
hideously immoral 

PLAYBOY: What can be done to improve 
things? 

ROSEANNE: People are going to have to 
redefine the term child abuse. People 
say, “Well, we only spanked her, it wasn't 
abusive.” Well, fuck, that is abusive, 
PLAYBOY: Is it truc that your child abuse 
never involved actual sex? 

ROSEANNE: Actual sex? You mean pene- 
tration? Well, there’s way more to “actu- 
al sex” than penetration. Besides, we 
not talking about the orifice that w 
raped, we're talking about the child. 
PLAYBOY: In your case, your mom al- 
legedly put soap in your vagina. Your fa- 
ther allegedly fondled his penis, made 
Peeping Tom photos, chased you with 
dirty underwear. 

ROSEANNE: The things that my parents 
did to me are innumerable. What you 
ad is only what I talk about. I'm not 
going to give child molesters anything to 
jack off about. 

PLAYBOY: There's more? 

ROSEANNE: I'm not going to say anything 
titillating for anybody. I know how peo- 
ple think. Let me sum up my childhood: 
When I was two or three years old, I 
started to walk in front of moving cars. Ї 
did that until I was sixteen and got hit by 
а car. People are going to have to figure 
out why by themselves. 

PLAYBOY: In an issue of TV Guide, your 
sister Stephanie contended that your 
sex-abuse charges come from an “over- 
heated imagination.” 
ROSEANNE: I'm staggered 
that she, of anyone in the world, would 
say that 

PLAYBOY: Why? 

ROSEANNE: I know that it happened to 
Stephanie, too. My parents gave me cus 
tody of her when she was seventeen 
years old. I got her out of their house 
when she phoned me from her bedroom 
and told me that Dad had molested her. 
Isaid, "You get your ass on a plane.” She 
came to live with me and my three kids. 
I went into bankruptcy because of that. 
And my other sister, Geraldine, came out 
and lived in our basement, too. For five 
years no one spoke to my parents about 


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it. But my sisters and I talked about it 
every day for hours and hours. 

PLAYBOY: Both Stephanie and Geraldine 
strongly deny everything you say. In 
fact, Geraldine has said, "[For Roseanne] 
10 say [she's] an incest victim absolves all 
[her] acts of the past." What acts? 
ROSEANNE: She means my firing her as 
my manager. I thought she was there for 
me because she was my sister. But I think 
now she was there for a payoff, and obvi- 
ously that's true. My sister and 1 were 
very close, as close as two sisters can be. I 
supported her for ten years. It's over 
now. She has to get a job, do some work. 
PLAYBOY: Were you an enabler? 
ROSEANNE: Absolutely. We'd sit there to- 
gether and smoke five packs of cigarettes 
each. We mostly talked about our child- 
hood and tried to make some sense of 
it. But both of us had extremely blank 
memories. And now she talks about me 
like 1 was her girlfriend who dumped 
her. 1 read one of her quotes that said, 
“Roseanne made a decision to become 
Mrs. Tom Arnold, and I was no longer 
necessary.” That sounds like a spurned 
lover. It's always been a very sick family. 
It was a sick, sick family from the day I 
was born. And it stil 
PLAYBOY: How long has it been since 
you've spoken to them? 

ROSEANNE: Three years. 

PLAYBOY: In denying these charges, your 
family pretty much blames Tom for your 
estrangement. 

tom: Hey, I tried with them. I was so 
nice to her parents, her sisters and her 
brother. I went way out on a limb, trying 
to develop relationships with them. I 
said they were great. But they kept do- 
ing things that were unforgivable. 
PLAYBOY: Did you push them apart? 
TOM: It had to be Rosie's decision, partic- 
ularly to end the business relationship 
with her sister Geraldine. 1 was in favor 
of it, but [ never pressured either way. 
It was Rosie's decision for me to be her 
manager and the executive producer 
of Roseanne. 

PLAYBOY: Some people claim you took an 
enfeebled star and brainwashed her. 
TOM: I didn't brainwash her. I put ablan- 
ket of protection around her that she 
had never had before. I was totally de- 
voted and still am. That's the way mar- 
riages are in Iowa: It's you and your wife 
and your family, and that’s it. I insisted 
she get in recovery and remain in recov- 
ery, do the work, not waiver and not 
backslide. I was on her ass. As she was on 
mine to get sober. 

ROSEANNE: When I first started to have 
therapy and recall my memorics, I really 
couldn't handle anything. It came so fast 
and so furious. 1 couldn't even walk. 
TOM: When I was on drugs, Га still get 
up at six to get the kids up for school, 
make sure they had breakfast, get them 


72 going. I knew I had to do it. 


ROSEANNE: He always came home су- 
ery ni 
TOM: I never went to bars. 

ROSEANNE: He sat in his bathroom and 
closet and snorted cocaine. 

том: Yeah, and in my car on the way 
home. 

PLAYBOY: Why did you trust him? 
ROSEANNE: At that point, 1 didn't have a 
choice. But if he hadn't been there 1 
would be dead, because I couldn't func- 
tion in апу fucking way at all. Also, he 
was right often enough for me to go, 
"Fuck, he knows what he is talking 
about." We both have alcoholic personal- 
ities, and neither of us trusts anybody. 
PLAYBOY: Roseanne, were you ever 
suicidal? 

ROSEANNE: Me? Yeah, like every second. 
I felt really bad. I had to go on antide- 
pressants. That's when I started to get 
back to being OK. It really did save my 
life. I’m one of those success stories with 
Prozac. It just made everything bottom 
out and I could focus. I suppose it was a 
breakdown. I couldn't remember what 
day it was or where I was. 

TOM: I said, "You're not leaving me here 


Tom: "When I was on 
drugs, I'd still get up 
at six to get the kids up 
for school. I knew I 
had to do it." 


with these fucking kids. There's no way." 
This is when the kids were battling. Her 
life was a shit pile waiting to burst. And 
when it burst, it was the toughest time 
for me. People had no clue what was go- 
ing on inside our house. No clue of how 
devastating it was for her. 1 was imple- 
menting structure in the kids’ lives 
where they'd never had it before, and 
there was so much resentment against 
me—which is only natural. And then to 
deal with my own shit. That's what 1 was 
supposed to handle. It was a lot for a 
newly sober guy. 

PLAYBOY: Did the money and opportuni- 
ty make it easier for you to marry into 
this mess? 

TOM: Hey, there isn't enough money for 
a single guy on drugs to say, "Guess 
what? I'm going to get sober and Im go- 
ing to get all this shit.” 1 got into this be- 
cause I was loved and I loved her, and I 
wanted a family. Га take any family, but 
hers is a great one. And it’s turned out to 
be really rewarding that it was so hard. 
PLAYBOY: Rewarding in many ways: your 
new sitcom, The Jackie Thomas Show, the 
job producing Roseanne. You don't deny 


that there is a professional advantage to 
being with Roseanne? 

Tom: Of course. As far as her opening all 
the doors in my career is concerned, hell 
yes. 1 can do anything I want. Any time 
1 come into a professional arrangement, 
1 carry her weight with me. Everybody 
knows that. 

PLAYBOY: They also think that you've 
eved what you have only because 
you're Roseanne's husband. 

том: It’s true. If I didn't know her I 
wouldn't be on the show. So? What can I 
say? It’s great to work with your family. 
ROSEANNE: That's not what we live for. 
We don't plan our lives around our ca- 
reers, we plan our careers around our 
lives. 

PLAYBOY: At one time, Tom didn't get 
much respect. Now it seems that he's the 
hip one. 

ROSEANNE: He'd gotten respect for a 
long time within our community, even 
though the public wasn’t aware of it. The 
professionals knew he did the work of 
ten people. Everybody thought I was 
crazy for dragging my boyfriend every- 
place, until they saw his talent. 

TOM: I like to be known as Rosie's hus- 
band. That's what Lam. But I know peo- 
ple will still resent me. That only makes 
me quicker and sharper. Having worked 
in a meat-packing plant, I now feel like 
I'm doing this for every fucker who used 
to work with me. I'm going to enjoy it 
all. I'm not going to feel bad about it. 
PLAYBOY: Would The Jackie Thomas Show 
work if somebody else played Jackie 
Thomas? 

ROSEANNE: No. He's the only one who 
can act that big and that dumb. 
PLAYBOY: Ever since The Jackie Thomas 
Show debuted, and despite the big rat- 
ings, there’s been speculation that it 
would be canceled, Why? 

Tom: The show is in no jeopardy о being 
canceled. We got picked up for more. 
They aren't going to cancel my show. 1 
mean, then what? I'm going to take it 10 
CBS or NBC. They can't beat my show. 
The network has assured me the show 
will be on next season. We're fine. 
PLAYBOY: Let's focus on your relation- 
ship. Why is it wor 

TOM: Because we ROS atit real hard. We 
don't take it for granted. 

ROSEANNE: We were so wild and crazy in 
our younger years. To be actually 
mate and honest with another person is 
really intense for both of us. Neither of 
us ever had that with a sexual partner. 
PLAYBOY: Did you really break the furni- 
turc the first time you made love? 
ROSEANNE: We were so scared. 

TOM: But we just went for it. That was 
опе time we just cleared out our heads, 
Eight years of “We can't go over that 
line." We had to propel ourselves 
lendy over that line. 

PLAYBOY: What if the sex had been bad? 


ROSEANNE: It wouldn't have mattered. 
TOM; I lcarned about the mechanics of 
sex from Rosie. When I grew up, I didn’t 
know that women enjoyed sex. I didn’t 
know what it meant for a woman to 
come until I was about twenty-five. 
Somebody got real pissed off at me and 
said, “What the fuck?” There's so much 
more going on than just sticking your 
dick in somebody and humping away. 1 
learned that from Rosie because 1 took 
time to relax. There's spiritual stuff in- 
volved. And I’m still learning. I have a 
Jot to learn. 

PLAYBOY: Is there a dark side to all this? 
ROSEANNE: We used to really Sid and 
Nancy out. 

tom: I threw her around a few times. 
She'd be screaming at me and Га throw 
her on the floor. 

ROSEANNE: One time he was in bed 
watching TV and I got this big baseball 
and threw it at his head. 

TOM: It wasn’t just a baseball. It was en- 
cased in this acrylic stuff. There used to 
be nights of terror when she had PMS. 
She'd be raging. She'd say, “Fuck, that's 
id” Then she'd go out in her car. Shed 
call and hang up on me. There was all 
this insanity. I'd have to go looking for 
her. Finally, my therapist said to me, 
“Don’t chase her anymore.” So I quit 
and then she quit doing it. She didn’t 
like it anymore. 

PLAYBOY: Was it love at first sight? 

Tom: Yeah, when I look back. 

PLAYBOY: What's the first thing you no- 
ticed about her? 

Tom: She was hilarious. She was tough. 
We met at a comedy dub. I went on first. 
When she came out, the whole room was 
mesmerized. Га never seen anything 
like it. And offstage she was fun. I could 
tell that she was sensitive. But what 1 
have always loved about her the most is 
that I think she always loved me. 
PLAYBOY: Is that true? 

ROSEANNE: Uh-huh. 

TOM: And that made me feel great. 
Roseanne believed in me. She opened all 
the doors and created all the opportuni- 
ties for what's happening in my career 
now—stuff I never knew I had the abili- 
ty to do. All the years she said, “Tom, 
you're great,” I felt like, Oh, man, she's 
dreaming. This includes being a good 
parent and hushand, too. 

PLAYBOY: How did you feel about this 
outpouring of love? 

ROSEANNE: At first I couldn't handle it. 
I'd been sexual with a lot of people, but 
not actually intimate. He'd say things 
and I wouldn't talk to him for six 
months. I'd just lose it and go, Whoa, 
take a break. Scared the hell out of me. 
Tom: Once in a while we'd get fucked up 
together and she'd say, “You know, I do 
have a crush on you and I think you 
have a crush on me.” 

ROSEANNE: The first time that happened 


was during my first HBO special. Your 
girlfriend said we had a crush on each 
other. I got really scared. 

tom: And then you said, “What are we 
going to do about it?" And I said, “I'll tell 
you what we're going to do about it: The 
first time we have this conversation 
when we're sober, that’s when we'll do 
something about it.” I was scared that 
you were just saying it. I was in love, 
sober or fucked up. I wanted to know 
you felt that way, too. 

ROSEANNE: Га sober up and then I 
wouldn't talk to him. 

PLAYBOY: And you were married, too. 
Tom: But this went on even after we were 
married. I was nice to her and she 
couldn't handle it. It's because of this in- 
cest stuff. But I didn’t know that at first. 
She wondered, “Why are you on my 
side? Why would you be on my side?” 
ROSEANNE: It didn’t make sense. I'd go, 
"What is he after?” Intimacy means pain 
and betrayal and getting fucked over. 
TOM: To me, that meant she didn't love 
me. Now I know she loves me, but I used 
to take it personally. Like, “What do I 
have to do to prove I love you?” I'd run 


Roseanne: "I had my 
girlfriends pin him 
in a chair, pull up their 
shirts and rub their 


boobs all over him.” 


down the list every time: “Look how 
good I am with the kids. I worship the 
ground you walk on.” 

PLAYBOY: Did Roseanne have the same 
suspicions about you that others had? 
Tom: Right. And it took me back to my 
using and drinking times. I did some 
things that were not honest. 

ROSEANNE; I wanted to feel love for Tom 
because to me love meant taking care of 
someone and lying to them. I'd take care 
of him but I'd keep him away from the 
real me, and I'd lie to him. That way I 
could stay in my sick shit but I could still 
have somebody to love. But him loving 
me, that was something I never had. I 
thought he wanted something. I would 
even lic to him about money. 

Tom: She wouldn't pay me. I wrote com- 
edy for a living and she'd say, “I'll pay 
you in a month.” Even when she got out 
here and had moncy she'd say, “Here 
are two checks for four hundred fifty 
dollars. Cash this one in two weeks, cash 
the other one in a month.” They were 
supposed to be for fificen hundred dol- 
lars, but she would talk me down. She 
thought paying me would be crossing 


the line, that we couldn't be friends. Our 
working together kept us together. We'd 
tell her husband and my girlfriends we 
were going on the road together. They'd 
go, “Oh, that's cool." That way Rosie got. 
ош апа we got to scc cach other. 
PLAYBOY: Did anyone suspect? 
ROSEANNE: We never had sex or 
anything. 

Tom: We'd just go on the road, drink, 
sleep in the same bed. We could do that 
because we were writing and performing 
together. 

ROSEANNE: We were just the best 
buddies. 

PLAYBOY: And now you sound like old 
marrieds. 

TOM: We're basically old-fashioned. 
PLAYBOY: Are you jealous? 

ROSEANNE: Yeah. Well, I'm protective. 
TOM: I don't vant to give her any reason 
to be jealous, either, because that puts 
her in a scary place. However, we have 
certain friends—her girlfriends—who 
she's not jealous of. 

ROSEANNE: My girlfriends all gave Tom 
pictures of them naked from the waist 
up for Christmas. I framed them for 
him. I think they're funny. 

TOM: She took the pictures. 

ROSEANNE: He always talks about wom- 
en's boobs. So I had my girlfriends pin 
him in a chair, pull up their shirts and. 
rub their boobs all over him. 

TOM: Апа you haven't heard me talk 
about them since, have you? No. 
ROSEANNE: Other women better not try 
anything with you because ГИ mess 
them up really bad. I'm a working-class 
woman. I'm not one of those dainty 
types who doesn’t know how to fight. 
Tom: She's not a very good fighter, 
though. She's tough. She has hit me. 
When she’s mad she’s a killer, but I don’t 
want her out there fighting. I don't let 
men talk to her on the phone. I don't 
give a shit that they're her old comedy 
friends. I couldn't care less. ГЇЇ talk to 
them first and then we'll talk to them to- 
gether at a club. 

ROSEANNE: He doesn't let me call up any 
of my guy friends I used to party with. 
TOM: Absolutely not. You can see them at 
a club or invite them over to dinner. I'd 
love to have them over. 

PLAYBOY: You can't sce them alone? 
ROSEANNE: We met Jesse Jackson at 
Farm Aid. He said he would really love 
to sit down and talk over lunch. I was re- 
ally excited. Tom said I couldn't have 
lunch with him unless I brought him to 
our house, I said, “You're being ridicu- 
lous.” Tom said, “If you do, I'll show up. 
and kick his black ass.” 

TOM: I meantit. 

PLAYBOY: Care to explain? 

TOM: I don’t allow my woman to go to 
lunch with other men. 

ROSEANNE: Tom doesn't allow his wife to 
do any of that. 

TOM: With any man. I wouldn't care if 


73 


РУКТАТҮГ ВО ХІ 


74 


it was the Pope, gay guys, anybody. 
Doesn't matter. It’s inappropriate. I 
don't know Jesse Jackson. I like him as a 
man, I like his politics. But Ри not going 
to let any man, even my rabbi, who's 
asked, have lunch with my wife. I don’t 
believe in it. 

PLAYBOY: Don't you trust Roseanne? 
TOM: I know nothing would happen, but 
you don’t put yourself in slippery situa- 
tions where something could happen, 
even if it's not going to happen. If he's 
gay, 1 figure she could change him. If 
he’s a rabbi, well, rabbis date. Jesse Jack- 
son, he’s aman. I don’t approve of it. 
PLAYBOY: You're serious? 

TOM: I'm a hundred percent serious. 
PLAYBOY: Why do you say “black” ass? 
TOM: I don't mean to sound racist. I'm 
not. Td kick his Jewish ass or his fat ass 
or whatever kind of ass he has. I would 
kick it. I just wanted her to know what 
would happen ifshe had lunch with him. 
PLAYBOY: Cood thing she's not having 
lunch with Sammy Davis Jr. 

TOM: I'd kick his dead, black, Jewish ass. 
Look, in Iowa married women just don’t 
have lunch with men. 

PLAYBOY: You're not in Iowa anymore. 
Tom: I know. ГЇЇ get better. 

PLAYBOY: Roseanne, isn't your acquies- 
сепсе to Tom on this subject contrary to 
your strong-woman image? 

ROSEANNE: І think about that a lot. 
Everything I say must be bullshit if he 
doesn't let me out the door. 

TOM: She's told me she's glad I'm like 
that. I'm very passionate about it, even 
though when I hear myself saying it I go, 
Boy, that sounds sort of old-fashioned. 
ROSEANNE: In other words, we're so tra- 
ditional that it's radical. Our primary 
commitment is to each other and to our 
marriage. I guess you can still be a femi- 
nist and do that. 

PLAYBOY: Are you trying to build trust or 
is this rampant insecurity speaking? 
TOM: Probably both. 

ROSEANNE: See, we know each other. 
том: This has been the first relationship 
in which we've been honest, and I want 
it to continue. I feel she needs to be tak- 
en care of sometimes. Maybe she won't 
in а year. 

PLAYBOY: How about something more 
pleasant? What sexual fantasy is still 
unfulfilled? 

ROSEANNE: Mine is that Tom cooks pork 
and doesn't burn it. [Tò Tom] Do you have 
2 weird sexual fantasy? 

TOM: Well, I feel I'm not very free at 
home. I know the kids and the nanny 
are there. I think I could act out more if 
we went away and were by ourselves in a 
safe place. Then we could be naked, 
which I like. My fantasy revolves around 
Rosie performing different sex acts on 
me—blow jobs, ctc 一 withouc me having 
to do anything. But in the end you like 
to reciprocate. 


PLAYBOY: These days you're referred to 
as one entity: Tom and Roseanne. Any 
desire to have separate identities again? 
TOM: We love doing what we do and we'll 
always be together. 

PLAYBOY: You reportedly bristle when 
someone calls you Roseanne Barr. What 
does that make you want to do? 
ROSEANNE: Beat the holy fucking shit out 
of "егп, kick 'em in the nuts or cunt, гір 
their fucking hair out, throw ‘em down a 
flight of stairs, jump up and down on 
"em, Че а rope around their neck and 
drag ‘em down the street, set'em on fire, 
throw 'em through a plate-glass window, 
hit 'em in the fucking head vith an ax. 
TOM: And force them to marry her 
ex-husband. 

PLAYBOY: At first, your marriage was the 
butt of jokes. When do you think that 
perception changed? 

ROSEANNE: As soon as my ex-husband 
and sister stopped talking to the press. 
When we had the gag order. 

TOM: It also helped when people saw me 
perform. When I started doing HBO 
specials and Roseanne started getting bet- 
тег as І was producing it, and I got my 


Roseanne: "I still feel 
like a geek from 
vuler space. To every- 
one and everything." 


Tom: “You are!” 


own show and some movies. Seeing my 
work added credibility to Rosie's always 
saying that I was very talented. 
ROSEANNE: I think it's when them two 
shut up. 

PLAYBOY: What if everything in your life 
and work were calm? 

ROSEANNE: І wouldn't do confrontational 
comedy, I'd do something different. But 
Га always be creative. 

TOM: But the world would have to be 
hunky-dory. 

ROSEANNE: Га probably write children's 
books or some shit. 

TOM: Children's books? 

ROSEANNE: Shut up. I am kind of a cru- 
sader. I’m sort of a crazy Don Quixote 
type. [Tom looks askance.] 1 am. 

TOM: Nobody's arguing with you. 
ROSEANNE: Maybe this is also born of 
controversy, and I'm going to do it any- 
way: I would work on issues of child 
abuse and legislation. That's what we 
want to do with the rest of our lives. 1 
will always be a confrontational person. 
This is so fucking clichéd, but what 
burns inside me more than anything is 
that I have something to say. 


PLAYBOY: You two are trying to have 
kids, right? 

BOTH; [Smiling] Yeah. 

PLAYBOY: How many kids do you want? 
TOM: I would like to have four or five, 
but she says one. And maybe we'll adopt 
one, too. The biological part is not my 
main thing. I’m happy being a steppar- 
ent, but I would like to be the main guy 
one way or another. Гуе never seen men 
change so much as they do when they 
become fathers. 

PLAYBOY: Any plans for the future? 

TOM: We want to be movie stars. 
ROSEANNE: ГА like to win an Oscar. 
PLAYBOY: Despite your successes, do you 
still feel like outsiders? 

ROSEANNE: Well, I still feel like a geek 
from outer space. To everyone and 
everything. 

TOM: You are! 

ROSEANNE: That's what I said. Why are 
you arguing with me? 

Tom: I'm not arguing about that. 
ROSEANNE: Idiot. 

TOM: I'm not arguing that you're not 
a geck. 

ROSEANNE: I fecl like a geek from outer 
space. 

Tom: Then you're in touch. Enjoy it. 
PLAYBOY: Roseanne, you said that you 
have been on Prozac, the antidepressant 
drug, for more than a year. Is it still 
helping? 

ROSEANNE: I’m more satisfied with the 
world since Гуе been on antidepres- 
sants. I think that everything you do 
in—and the way you look at—the world 
comes from how you feel about yourself. 
I still have the old fire. I just don't have 
the horrible lows. Well, I kind of have 
the horrible lows, but not as frequently. 
Now I freak out only every other day. 
I'm able to run my personal life a lot bet- 
ter. І could always work but I didn't have 
a happy personal life and didn't know 
how to get it. Once, 1 didn't even know 
how to live in the world. Now I'm doing 
pretty good. 

PLAYBOY: Are the two of you doing 
Prozac together? 

ROSEANNE: He should be. But it won't 
work for him. 

TOM: Somebody has to drive the car. 
ROSEANNE: That's what Timothy Leary 
told him. He totally understands what 
Tom's trip is: He's driving the car. Driv- 
ing me around in the car. Go away. 
You're ruining the interview. I would an- 
swer differently if you weren't here with 
your goofy fucking head and your goofy 
fucking face. Zit face. 

TOM: Look at you. [ Pinches her] 
ROSEANNE: Owww! 

TOM: Owww! 

ROSEANNE: Ohhhhh! 

TOM: Ahhhhh! [They stop] 

ROSEANNE: Damn it. 


вотн: [Laugh] 


мн лат ДАРА КЕС ES A плс Ул ЕГУ ла 


a MIE ҚҰР "у Б) = ы 


& Sons inc 


76 


once in ten thousand incarnations 
a woman like this appears— 
to bestow the ultimate pleasure 


FICTION BY DAN SIMIMONS 


FLY BACK to Asia in the late spring 
of 1992, leaving one City of An- 
gels, which had just exorcised its 
evil spirits in an orgy of looting 
and flame, and arriving in anoth- 
ет, where the blood demons are 
gathering оп the horizon like 
monsoon clouds. My home city 
of Los Angeles had gone up in flames 
and insane looting the month before; 
Bangkok—known locally as Krung 
Thep, the City of Angels—is preparing 
to slaughter its children on the streets 
near the Democracy Monument. 

All of this is irrelevant to me. 1 have 
my own blood score to settle. 

‘The minute I step outside the air- 
conditioned vaults of Bangkok’s Don 
Muang International Airport, it all 
comes back to me: the heat, over 105*F, 
humidity as close to liquid air as atmo- 
sphere can get, the stink of carbon 
monoxide and industrial pollution and 
the open sewage of 10 million people 
turning the air into a cocktail thick 
enough to drink. The heat and the hu- 
midity and the intense tropical sunlight 
combine to make breathing a physical 
effort, like trying to inhale oxygen 
through a blanket moistened with 
kerosene. And the airport is 25 klicks 
from the center of town. 

1 feel myself stir and harden just to 
be there. 

“Dr. Merrick?” says a Thai in chau 
feur’s livery. 

I nod. A yellow Mercedes from the 
Oriental Hotel is waiting for me. There 


is no scenic way into Bangkok today 
unless one were to ride a sampan up- 
river into the heart of the city. The 
commute into the old section of 
Bangkok now is pure capitalist mad- 
ness: traffic jams, Asian palaces that are 
really shopping malls, industrial clut- 
ter, new elevated expressways, ferro- 
concrete apartment towers, billboards 
hawking Japanese electronics, the roar 
of motorcycles and the constant arc- 
flash and jackhammer-thud of new 
construction. As is the case with all of 
Asia's new megalopolises, Bangkok is 
tearing itself down and rebuilding itself 
daily in a frenzy that makes Western 
cities such as New York look as perma- 
nent as the pyramids. 

l catch a glimpse of Silom Road, 
jammed with people but looking emp- 
ty and lethargic compared with its usu- 
al crush of manic crowds. 1 glance at 
my watch. It is eight р.м. on a Friday 
night Los Angeles time; 11 o'clock Sat- 
urday morning here in Bangkok. 
Silom Road is resting, waiting for the 
evening excitement that emanates 
from the Patpong entertainment dis- 
trict like the scent ofa bitch in heat—an 
urgent scent like a subtle blend of exot- 
ic perfume and the Clorox tang of se- 
men and the coppery taste of blood. 

1 hurry through the courteous greet- 
ings and the bowed wais and the gra- 
cious registerings of the Oriental Ho- 
tel, perhaps the world’s finest hotel, 
wanting only to get to my suite and 
shower and feign sleep, to lic there and 


ILLUSTRATION BY MEL CDOM. 


stare at the teak-and-plaster ceiling un- 
til the sunlight fades and the night be- 
gins. Darkness will bring this particular 
City of Angels alive, or at least stir the 
corpse of it into slow, erotic motion. 

When it is well and truly dark, I rise, 
dress in my Bangkok street clothes and 
go out into the night. 


The first time I saw Bangkok had 
been 22 years earlier, in May 1970. 
Ties and I had chosen Bangkok as our 
destination for the seven days of out- 
of-country R&R we had coming to us. 
Actually, I don’t know many grunts 
who called it R&R back then. Many 
called it 18:1: intercourse and intoxica- 
tion. Married officers used their leave 
to meet wives in Hawaii, but for the 
rest of us the Army offered a smorgas- 
bord of destinations ranging from To- 
kyo to Sydney. A lot of us chose Bang- 
kok for four reasons: (1) it was easy to 
get to and didn’t use up a lot of our 
time in travel, (2) the cheap sex, (3) the 
cheap sex and (4) the cheap sex. 

To tell the truth, Tres had chosen 
Bangkok for other reasons, and 1 fol- 
lowed along trusting in his judgment, 
much the way I did when we were out 
оп а long-range reconnaissance patrol. 
Tres—Robert William Tindale II 一 
was only about a year older than I was, 
but he was taller, stronger, smarter and 
infinitely beter educated. I'd dropped 
out of my Midwestern college in my 


PLAYBOY 


78 


junior year and rattled around until 
the draft sucked me in. Tres had grad- 
uated from Kenyon College with hon- 
ors and then enlisted in the infantry 
rather than go on to graduate school. 
His nickname came from the Spanish 
word for three and was pronounced 
tray. Most of us had been given nick- 
names in the platoon—mine was Prick 
because of the heavy PRC-25 radio 
Id carried around during my short 
stint as a radiotelephone operator— 
but Tres came to us with his nickname 
in place. 

‘Tres had a deep interest in Asian cul- 
tures and was good at languages. He 
was the only grunt in the company who 
could speak any real Vietnamese. Most 
of us thought that beaucoup was Viet- 
namese and felt clever to know di di 
mau and half a dozen other corrupted 
local phrases. Tres spoke Vietnamese, 
though he kept that fact from reaching 
any officer other than our own LTC. “I 
wouldn't let them make me a typist or 
officer,” he used to say to me. "I'll be 
goddamned if I'll let them turn me in- 
to some pissant interrogator.” 

Tres had never studied the Thai lan- 
guage but he learned quickly. 

“Just tell me what the Thai word is 
for blow job." I'd said to him during 
the MAC flight from Saigon to 
Bangkok. 

"T don't know,” said Tres “Rut the 
phrase for hand job is shak wao.” 

“No shit,” I'd said. 

“No shit,” said Tres. He was reading 
a book and didn’t look up. “It means 
‘pulling on the kite string." 

I thought about that image for a 
minute. The transport was losing alti- 
tude, jouncing through clouds toward 
Bangkok. “I think I'll hold out for a 
blow job,” I said. I was not quite 20 
years old and had experienced oral sex 
only once, with a college girlfriend who 
had obviously never tried it before, ei- 
ther. But I was full of hormones and 
macho posturing I'd picked up from 
the platoon, not to mention the sheer 
adrenaline rush of being alive afier six 
months in the boonies. “Definitely a 
blow job,” I said. 

"Ires had grunted and kept reading. 
It wasa dusty book about Thai customs 
or mythology or religion or something. 

I realize now that if I'd known what 
he was reading about and why he һай 
chosen Bangkok, I probably wouldn't 
have stepped off the plane. 


The floor valet, elevator doorman, 
concierge and main doormen of the 
Oriental do not raise eyebrows at my 
wrinkled chinos and stained photogra- 
pher’s vest. At 350 American dollars a 
night, their guests can wear whatever 


they want. The concierge does, howev- 
єт, step out to talk to me before I leave 
the air-conditioned sanity of the hotel. 

“Dr. Merrick,” he says softly, “you 
are aware of the ... ah. . . tensions that 
exist in Bangkok at the current time?” 

I nod. “The student riots? The mili- 
tary crackdown?” 

The concierge smiles and bows 
slightly, obviously grateful for not hav- 
ing to educate the farang in what seems 
an embarrassing topic to him. “Yes, sir. 
I mention it only because, while the 
problems have been concentrated near 
the university and the Grand Palace, 
there have been, ah, disturbances on 
Silom Road.” 

I nod again. “But there's no curfew 
yet,” I say. “Patpong is still open.” 

The concierge smiles with no hint of 
a leer. “Oh, yes, sir. Patpong and the 
nightclubs are open for business. The 
city is very much open.” 

Itis not hard to recognize when I get 
there. The narrow streets connecting 
Silom and Suriwong roads are awash 
with cheap neon signs: MARVELOUS MAS- 
SAGE, PUSSY GALORE, BABY A-GO-GO, SUPER- 
GIRL LIVE SEX SHOWS, PUSSY ALIVE! and a 
score of others. The lanes of Patpong 
are narrow enough to be pedestrian- 
only, but the roar of the three-wheeled 
tuk-tuks in the boulevards beyond pro- 
vides a constant background to the 
rock-and-roll music that is blaring 
from speakers and open doors. 

Young men or women—sometimes it 
is hard to tell in androgynous Thai- 
land—begin plucking at my sleeve and 
gesturing toward doorways the mo- 
ment I turn onto the lane called Pat- 
pong One. 

“Mister, best live sex shows, best 
pussy shows.” 

“Hey, Mister, this way prettiest girls, 
best prices.” 

“Want to see nicest shave pussy? 
Meet nice girl?” 

“You want girls? No? You want 
boys?” 

1 stroll on, ignoring the gentle tugs 
at my sleeve. The last query had come 
as I entered the lane called Patpong 
‘Two. The night zone is divided into 
three areas: Patpong One serves 
straights, Patpong Two offers delights 
to both straights and gays and Patpong 
Three is all gay. The majority of the ac- 
tion here on Patpong Two is still for 
heterosexuals, though most of the bars 
have smiling boys as well as girls. 

I pause in front ofa bar called Pussy 
Delite. A little man with one arm and 
a face turned blue by the flickering 
neon steps forward and hands me a 
long plastic card. "Pussy menu?" he 
says, his voice the epitome of an up- 
scale maitre d's. 

I take the grubby plastic card and 
study іш PUSSY BANANAS, PUSSY COCA. 


COLA, PUSSY CHOPSTICKS, PUSSY RAZOR 
BLADES, PUSSY SMOKING. 

Nodding, I start into the busy night- 
club. The one-armed maitre d' hurries 
forward and retrieves his card. 

The club is small and smoky, with 
four bars set in a square around a 
crude stage. The girl on the stage—she 
looks no more than 16 or 17—15 arched 
backward so that the top of her head 
almost touches the rough wood of the 
stage, her legs and arms supporting 
her in a crablike backbend. She is 
naked; her crotch has been shaved. 
Colored lights shaft down through the 
smoke and fall on her like soft lasers. 
The center of the stage is a turntable, 
and the girl holds the arched position 
while her body rotates so that everyone 
can see her exposed genitals. A lighted 
cigarette has been set between her 
labia. As the stage revolves toward each 
section of the bar, smoke puffs from 
her vulva as if she is exhaling. Occa- 
sionally, one of the drunker patrons 
applauds. 

Most of the men in the bar are Thai, 
but there are plenty of farang scattered 
around: arrogant Germans in khaki 
with their hair slicked back, beaky Brits 
paying more attention to their drinks 
than to the girl on the stage, an occa- 
sional frowning Chinese from Hong 
Kong squinting through glasses and a 
few fat Americans with untouched 
drinks and protruding eyes. 

I move up to the big bar and take an 
empty stool. The girl's upside-down 
face revolves past three feet from me. 
Her eyes are open but unfocused. Her 
small breasts seem little more than 
swellings. I can count her ribs. 

A young Thai woman slides close, 
her left breast touching my bare fore- 
arm through her thin cotton tank top. 
Although she is no older than the girl 
whose genitals rotate our way, she 
looks older because of the heavy make- 
up that glows a necrotic color in the 
shifting blue light. “My name Nok,” 
she shouts over the rock and roll. 
“What your name?” 

She 1s so close that I can smell her 
sweet talcum-and-perspiration scent 
through the cigarette smoke. Thai are 
among the cleanest people in the 
world, bathing several times a day. Ig- 
noring her question, I say, "Nok means 
bird. Are you a bird, Nok?" 

Her eyes widen. "Do you speak 
Thai?” she asks in Thai. 

I show no comprehension. "Are you 
a bird, Nok?” 1 ask again. 

She sighs and says in English, "Yes, 1 
a thirsty bird. Buy me drink?" 

I nod and the bartender is there a 
fraction of a second later, pouring her 
the most expensive "whiskey" in the 
place. It is 98 percent tea, of course. 

(continued on page 152) 


в 


8! 
ME 


‘Tm afraid madam is down for the Count.” 


AU About “Eden” 


meet the stars of cable's daring drama, produced—you guessed it—by playboy 


N THE beginning, 
there was network 
TV. Father knew 
best, sitcom moms 
always wore a smile and no- 
body ever talked dirty. Televi- 
sion sex was taboo in the years 
B.C. (before cable). What's sur- 
prising, though, is that on-air 
sex is still a touchy topic. The 
networks routinely accompany 
referencesto their favorite sub- 
ject with nervous giggles on 
the laugh track. Men are near- 
ly always impotent or incompe- 
tent, and women are always left 
unsatisfied. 
But change is underway On 
Eden, Playboy TV's new landmark evening drama, fantasy 
finally meets reality. American cable audiences will have a re- 
al alternative to buttoned-up prime-time fare. And while the 
central plot of Eden is presented from a woman's point of 


view, this series set in paradise 
is great television for two. The 
original version is currently 
airing on Playboy TV, and USA 
Network will kick off its version 
with a prime-time two-hour 
movie airing June 27. 

Eden tracks the blossoming 
of gorgeous widow Eve Sin- 
clair, portrayed by the soulful 
Barbara Alyn Woods, as she 
takes over the daily operation 
of her dead husband's tropical 
resort, Eden. Eve's quest for 
healing grief and emotional 
serenity is disrupted by Randi 

Banks (the drama's quintessen- 
tial bad girl, played by sultry ac- 
tress Darcy DeMoss). How devilish is Randi? How pure is 
Eve? Is Eden the start of a new era of sexy TV program- 
ming? Viewers can judge for themselves. In the meantime, 
discriminating readers can appreciate the duo's charms here. 


Barbara Alyn Woods (Eve, below) can boas! big-screen credits in The Waterdance and the upcoming Flesh and Bone starring Dennis 
Quaid. “In 1993, women want it all and they're succeeding,” says the busy Waods. “Eve is a perfect blend of femininity and strength.” 


The first lady of Eden luxuriates in the sun 
on locotion in Monzonillo, Mexico (right). 
"Mony people think that if you take off your 
clothes in front of the camera, you can't 
oct,” she soys with o shrug, Then smiling: “I 
intend to be the exception to the rule.” One 
of the entanglements in Eden involves 
deod hubby's brother Josh Sinclair (played 
by Steve Chase, shown above in the arms 
of actress Britney Powell). Eve also finds 
time to enjoy calmer moments, like о sun- 
set in the garden of eorthly delights (top). 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY POMPEO POSAR 


At left and right, the dark and alluring Dar- 
cy DeMoss shows why the temptations of 
Eden's bad apple, Randi, are so hord to re- 
sist. "I wouldn't turn my back on Randi,” 
she soys of her alter ego. "She uses vulner- 
ability to get what she wants.” Eden, cen- 
ter, is every lover's playground. For the 
time being, Eve—pictured below in a fanta- 
sy segment with the ghost of husband 
Grant Sinclair (Jeff Griggs) and ot bottom 
with his brother Josh—appeors to have 
it all. But when Darcy is asked who is 
stronger, Eve or Randi, she replies, "Randi, 
definitely, though 1 bet Barbara would say 
Eve. We'll just have to see.” Stay tuned 


а 


THE 
THINKING MAN'S 
GUIDE TO 


MARRIAGE 


before. Yo lie the knot, learn the ropes 


EVERY NOW and then, love gets 
so crazy that it has to be institu- 
tionalized. Marriage—that nutty 
dream of every mad lover from 
John Alden to John Hinckley—is 
the Swiss army knife of social 
conventions, one shiny package 
jammed full of useful features. It 
has, for instance, always been the 
therapeutic tool we use to calm 
one of our most irrational pas- 
sions: If nothing else, marriage 
gets the mad dog of lust off the 
streets for a time and makes the 
world a little safer for our daugh- 
ters. It provides respectability to 
many who could never hope to 
be respectable in any other pur- 
suit, and it creates jobs for coun- 
selors and others who would oth- 
erwise never find employment. 
For many, marriage provides a 
swell sort of emotional Barca- 
lounger, something remarkably 
comfortable, if somewhat unfash- 
ionable, to fall back on. For all of 
us, it's the next thing you do af 
ter your last date. 

The essential benefits of mar- 
riage, especially monogamous 
marriage, are twofold. First, it 
keeps us from confusing sex- 
without-guilt with sex-without- 
responsibility. Second, it protects 
children and women—a notion 
that appeals to men's better 
selves. So marriage, for most of. 
us, is a good idea. 

When it's not a good idea, you 
find out right away. 


There is a profound distinc- 
tion between getting married 
and getting to a wedding. If you 
сап read a map, you can get to a 
wedding. It's how you ended up 
married that's hard to figure. 

Causality confuses us. From 
adolescence we have practiced 
the liturgy of lust, from a kiss to a 
feel to a touchdown. But we nev- 
er quite saw where all that was 
leading until we found ourselves 
standing there promising away 
all of our life and half of our 
worldly goods. 


HOW YOU GET MARRIED 


Usually, it works like this: A. 
man meets a woman and, based 
almost solely on her appearance 
(augmented sometimes by a de- 
cent personality or other margin- 
al factors such as intelligence), he 
pursues her. His objective is of- 
ten quite limited. Maybe he just 
wants to know if she's a pleasant 
dinner companion, or maybe 
he's after uncomplicated sex. In 
any case, he doesn't see where a 
simple introduction might lead 
until the moment arrives when 
he realizes he can do nothing 
other than marry her. 

A typical woman sees things 
much more clearly than does a 
typical man. Rather than looking. 
at a relationship as a series of 
dates, she sees it as an elaborate 
syllogism in which certain hy- 
potheses are proved by what has 
preceded them. A courtship pro- 
ceeds down a figurative aisle, 


ARTICLE Br IDE ISIS BONILES 


ILLUSTRATION BY WIKTOR SADOWSKI 


PLAYBOY 


and each one of these encounters will 
lead to another, more complex en- 
counter, until you are finally brought 
to the last date 

In handyman's terms: She asks you 
to make a series of objects—a book- 
shelf, a planter shaped like a goose, a 
table. Then one day she tells you that 
you have built a house and asks you 
to please shut the door because there's 
a draft. 


WOMEN'S WORK 


Marriage is to women what work is 
to men. For men, work—a job, a career, 
a paycheck—is an elaborate construc. 
tion designed to minimize meaning- 
lessness in life and maximize rewards. 
Women see marriage (and a conse- 
quent family) the same way. The differ- 
ence: Work really is meaningless. 


MEN ARE SUCH. 


Fifty years ago, if you became con- 
versationally loose with a woman, she'd 
tell you about all the terrific suitors she 
had had and how she had dismissed 
them all with broken hearts. Today the 
granddaughter of that same woman is 
likely to tell you about the many, many 
suitors she's had who were not so ter- 
rific. Virtually every unmarried wom- 
an over the age of, say, 25 or 30 has 
a jam-packed gallery of rogues who 
trampled on her hopes and dreams 
шеп who were married, men who 
drank, men who were closet hermits, 
men who killed her cats, men who 
wore her skirts. Unsuitable men. "Men 
are such jerks,” she'll say at some point. 

But that's her problem. Most women 
crave justification for ill-advised behav- 
ior, and those who choose a long se- 
quence of lunatics and philanderers 
are on the run from responsibility and 
just don't want to feel bad about it. If 
you're a lunatic or a philanderer, you 
may wish to help them. If not, remem- 
ber: Most women spend at least part of 
their postadolescence in this state, and 
if you happen along during this stage 
of her life and look for any reasonable 
long-term relationship, she'll boot you 
out of there, pronto. If a committed 
relationship is what she wanted, she 
would have one. 

Most women decide on a mature 
marriage at a certain point—often in 
their late 20s or early 30s—and, armed 
with a crisp new realism, they marry 
the first eligible chap to come along af- 
ter that decision has been made. Usual- 
ly, the decision is made with what to us 
must seem an almost coldhearted de- 
liberation. Smart women—the sort of 
women you want to marry—simply 
and wisely wish to be convinced of the 
aptness of their men. They make their 
choice almost without regard to what- 
ever transpired in their premarital life. 


Suddenly, those nights with motorcycle 
gangs and guys with red rubber noses 
and water balloons are things of the 
past. For women, there's a big differ- 
ence between getting down and getting 
down to business. 


WHY WOMEN MARRY 


As H. L. Mencken pointed out in In 
Defense of Women, you may think you're 
a prize, but to your wife, you're sec- 
ond-rate at best. 

According to Mencken, a woman 
makes her first choice in a man while 
she's still quite young, and the object of 
her heart may not even be a real per- 
son: He may (odo mami 
or book. Or he might be a very distant 
ideal, maybe a singer ora TV personal- 
ity. He's probably not a politician. 

From that point onward, its one 
compromise after another until she set- 
Чез for you—perhaps her 50th choice. 

But she never forgets one through 
49. In fact, mo one is more aware of a 
man’s shortcomings than his wife. Not 
only is he a disappointment in compar- 
ison with all those idealized men who 
for years paraded through her imagi- 
nation—or, maybe, her bedroom—but 
he reinforces her notions of his own 
dorkishness by gaining in incompe- 
tence what he loses in independence. 
Süll, you must have had something go- 
ing for you once—even if only momen- 
tarily and when very drunk. When she 
finally settled for you, she formulated a 
number of reasonable considerations: 

ә Security. When women get serious 
about marriage, they get serious men, 
since most women prefer not to help 
men find themselves, and most women 
prefer men who are able to do a man's 
work—namely, to support themselves 
and their families. This is true even if 
she has a career; in fact, a woman who 
already deals with workaday responsi- 
bilities is even more clear in her expec- 
tations, and she will have а well-i 
formed appreciation of what it will take 
to get by if she decides to opt for full- 
time motherhood. 

* Dad. According to a legion of 
shrinks, women marry as part of a re- 
action against their fathers. This is psy- 
chology, so it may be more a feeling 
than a truth, 

Mom. Same source: Some women 
get married in order to become their 
mothers. Some men love to be moth- 
ered. These two types get together and 
they're stuck for life. 

© Respect. Never underestimate the 
importance of a woman's self-esteem— 
and the esteem of her friends and fam- 
ily—in making her choice. The best 
women marry men whose qualities 
match their own healthy self-esteem 
On the other hand, insecure men fre- 
quently marry trophy wives—especial- 


ly if their insecurity is caused by ad- 
vancing age. So do women wed trophy 
husbands, but women are considerably 
more adroit in concealing their motives 
for marriage. 

* Children. Most women earnestly 
desire to have children and, in cooper- 
ation with a responsible, sensible father 
(and, really, many desperate women 
even skip the sensible part), to be good 
mothers to the children they have. 


WHAT TO LOOK FOR IN YOUR BASIC WIFE 


Men (and women, for that matter) 
spend most of their first two or three 
decades like teens in a premarital mall, 
hanging out, window-shopping, occa- 
sionally slipping something on but not 
really buying. 

If you were one of the ones who left 
the mall married, then you know that 
what happened was psychedelic, man. 
Suddenly you started hallucinating 
signs that read FINAL DAYs! CLEARANCE 
SALE and you grabbed something— 
anything—on the way out. 

When you get ready to close that 
deal, there are only a half dozen things 
you should consider. Six. That’s not 
many. But skip just one, and you'll be 
doomed to repeat the other five—with 
a new woman. 

(1) Marry the most beautiful woman 
you can find. Every woman has one 
good picture. one angle rhar makes her 
look just wonderful. It's the shot you 
see when you first fall in love with a 
woman. From that moment on, it's the 
only picture of her thar exists for you. 
Women are far more realistic in these 
matters, and once they leave adoles- 
cence, they look for qualities in а man 
that often have little to do with his ap- 
pearance, thank God. But men are 
browsers, so packaging makes the sale. 
If a woman has а dazzling personality 
or a spirituality that blinds you to her 
appearance, don't worry: You'll patch 
something together in your imagina- 
tion that will keep her looking beauti- 
ful forever. 

On the other hand, attractive women 
who use their looks as a replacement 
part for other important character 
qualities, such as wit or kindness or 
competence, make expensive but con- 
venient Bic wives. They're disposable, 
but аг least they know it. Like ball play- 
ers, they have to get it while they can, 
because when the fat lady sings, it's 
over, especially if they've become the 
far lady. 

(2) Marry for laughs. Dull and stupid 
women, self-serious women, boring 
women all have no sense of humor, the 
one unfailing measure of intelligence. 
Find somebody who knows a joke 
when she tells it. 

(continued on page 140) 


3 
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foshion by HOLLIS WAYNE 


HOT 


STUFF 


light, loose and 

loyered—it's the 

warm-weather 
woy to go 


HINK SUITS are getting more 
I comfortable? Wait until you 

see what menswear designers 
have done to summer sportswear. 
Shirts and shorts are made of nat- 
ural, ultra-lightweight fabrics that 
keep their cool when things get 
hot. Most come prewashed or 
“laundered.” so they're soft and 
rarely need ironing. Colors arc 
subtle (earthy beige, muted green 
and pale coral are a few of our fa- 
vorites) and prints are equally low- 
key (check out the batik vest on 
page 93). Add up these features 
and you get clothing so relaxed 
that you'll have no choice but to 
play hooky from office homework, 
kick back and enjoy the weekend. 


Forget the sproy storch—rumpled is 
the right look this season. At left, our 
guy is wearing a washed-cotton twill 
hooded zip-front jacket, from Colours 
by Alexander Julian, $125; with o 
striped cotton T-shirt, by Edwin Jeans, 
about $40; and washed-cotton twill 
fatigue shorts, by DKNY, about $60; 
plus clip-on sunglasses, by Colvin 
Klein Eyeweor, $75. The outfit at right 
includes a washed-nylon fishing vest 
with a mesh lining, by DKNY, $155; o 
striped cotton short-sleeved knit polo 
shirt, by Reunion Mensweor, $45; and 
washed-linen five-pocket jean shorts, 
by Calvin Klein Jeons, about $80. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY GREGORY HINSDALE 


С 
! а. 


» 


T 


Natural fobrics such as cotton and 
linen con toke the hect ond look 
great when layered. The oarsman 
at left has poired а washed-cotian 
chambray sport shirt, about $70, 
with a striped washed-cotton mesh 
polo shirt, $70, and linen shorts 
with side flop pockets, $95, all 
from Palo by Ralph Louren. Our 
mate at right combines а hood- 
ed linen vest with four button- 
through pockets, by Calvin Klein 
Jeans, $130; with a washed-rayon 
and poly-crepe spart shirt, for Bas- 
co by Lance Karesh, about $90; 
end cotton stone-woshed jean 
shorts, by Guess Men, about $50. 


Yes, it is fashionable to skip the 
shoelaces. The fellow at left wears 
nubuck sneokers, by G. Н. Bass, 
$50; with a linen fishing vest, by 
Нисо Boss, $380; а sport shirt, 
from Calours by Alexander Julian, 
$55; and cotton twill sharts, by 
Scout America Denim, $35; plus 
| sunglasses, by Oliver Peoples, 
$260; and c watch, by TAG- 
Heuer, abaut $600. Everything at 
right is up for grobs, including his 
cottan pullover, by Sassofros and 
Chino, $35; a batik vest, by Island 
Trading Company, $76; woshed- 
linen shorts, from LO.E. by Joseph 


HAIR AND MAKEUP BY ROSEMARY TACKSARY: 
WHERE à HOW то BUY ON PAGE 178, 


94 


ІІ) 
AND AR 


HE DEBATE about gays in the military is really about 
sex in the military, and it has two fundamental flaws: 
It’s dumb when it talks about sex and it's dumb 
when it talks about the military. The debate ignores 
the complexity of human sexual behavior and insists 
on classifying people as either hetero- or homosexu- 
al. Even more important, it fails to understand the 
sexually repressed, homoerotic nature of the bond 
that in combat prevents soldiers from fleeing and al- 
lows them to fight—the bond, in other words, that 
keeps them alive. 

War without sex is like war without death. It took 
about five minutes into the first morning I spent in 
the Marine Corps for sex to as- 

sume the central place it would occupy 
for the rest of my training and, in fact, 
my three years on duty. It was still dark 
outside when we lined up in what 
passed for order. Our drill instructors 
paced up and down, staring at each re- 
cruit a few inches from his face. Then 
one of the recruits, a slightly effemi- 
nate Marine I'll call Brown, made a big 
mistake: He looked back. 

“Why are you looking at me, mag- 

t?” the drill instructor screamed. 

“He's queer, I knew it. Queer,” the 
other drill instructor piped up from 
the end of the line. 

“You a peter puffer, Brown? Is that 
why you were looking at me?” 

“J wasn’t- ” Brown began. 

“Eye? Are you a private eye?” the 
drill instructor screamed. “Are you some sort of special indi- 
vidual? There are no individuals in my Marine Corps. You 
will refer to yourself as ‘the private.” 

“Sir, the private wasn't looking at you,” the hapless Brown 
ventured. 

“Ewe? Am I a female sheep? Do you fuck sheep?” The 
drill sergeant was enraged. 

“He does, I can tell,” the other drill instructor chimed in 
helpfully. “Fucks cows, too. He's got that cow-fucking look.” 

“So that must mean you want to fuck me?” 

“Sir, no sir.” 

“Pm not good enough, is that it? Not as good as those 
cows and sheep you usually fuck.” 


WHAT WILL BE 


THE IMPACT OF GAYS 


IN BATTLE? A 


VETERAN OF COMBAT 


IN VIETNAM HAS 


SOME SURPRISING 


ANSWERS 


“Sir, nosir. I mean, sir, yes sir” 

“Which is it, maggot?" 

Brown looked very pale. 

"You'd rather fuck my wife, is that it?” 

“Sir, no sir.” 

“What's wrong with my wife, then?” 

At this point someone else began to laugh—perhaps it was 
even me—and the focus of this torture switched away from 
poor Brown. His reprieve was only temporary. Every squad 
has someone whois the butt of harassment, and Brown filled 
that role for us. Eventually even some of his fellow recruits 
joined in, particularly a tough, squared-away Marine I'll call 
Stanley, who rode Brown mercilessly. 

Harassment is part of training. New 
recruits get their heads shaved for a 
reason. Combat units arc the opposite 
of democracies. The individual no 
longer matters. The group is every- 
thing. Recruits are referred to only in 
the third person. “I” and “me” disap- 
pear from their vocabulary. Harass- 
ment is brutal and universal. Every re- 
cruit is under intense pressure at all 
times. Any personal detail is cruelly ex- 
ploited. Heaven help the poor recruit 
who is overweight, stutters, wets his 
bed, can’t tell right from left or has a lit- 
tle dick 

Is this stupid, sexist and degrading? 
Yes, but so is war, which is what we were 
being trained for. And so is being cap- 
tured. We were being trained to kill 
and to avoid being killed, to be over- 
whelmed by horror and blood and terrible chaos and not let 
our buddies down. War is at bottom a horrible profession, 
glossed over with spit-shined shoes and gleaming buttons 
But its reality is primitive and repugnant. 

Gay activists like to quote what Viemam hero Leonard 
Matlovich had inscribed on his gravestone. “They gave me a 
medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one.” 
Allan Berube writes in Coming Oul Under Fire: “It is one of 
the many tragic ironies of the war that gay soldiers and 
officers had to kill, risk their lives and see their buddies die 
in order to gain some respect and a sense of belonging as 


men among men.” 
Both these attitudes are fundamentally at odds with what 


article by WILLIAM BROYLES, JR. 


ILLUSTRATION BY DAVIO WILCOK 


PLAYBOY 


96 


war is about. It is about killing people, 
which is precisely why you get medals 
for doing it. And the tragic irony 
Berube writes about is no less tragic or 
ironic if you eliminate the word gay 
from his sentence. The rite of passage 
for soldiers of any race, age and sexual 
background has always been perfor- 
mance under fire, which means perfor- 
mance in the face of death. 

General Colin Powell argues that in- 
tegrating acknowledged homosexuals 
is different from integrating blacks. 
Race, Powell claims, is a "benign" condi- 
tion while homosexuality is defined by 
behzvior. Not so, claim gay advocates. 
"Gay sexual orientation," say the edi- 
tors of The New Republic, "like straight 
sexual orientation is constitutive of 
someone's deepest personal identity 
and in the opinion of the vast majority 
of psychologists and even of the Ro- 
man Catholic Church essentially unal- 
terable.” Being gay is a matter of biolo- 
Бу and deepest psychology. It just is. 

But as a basic human function, sexu- 
ality is not always discerning. Some 
people, homosexual to their essence, 
have heterosexual sex; some hetero- 
sexuals have homosexual sex. “There 
is probably no sensitive heterosexual 
alive," writes Norman Mailer, "who is 
not preoccupied with his latent homo- 
sexuality" When someone is hungry 
enough he or she will eat almost any- 
thing. T. E. Lawrence wrote about how. 
the men of his Arab legion would slake 
their desires in one another’s bodies 
and then depart the wars to become 
family men and raise children. The tra- 
ditions of the Royal Navy, Winston 
Churchill said, were “rum, sodomy and 
the lash.” Otherwise heterosexual sail- 
ors, like inmates in prison, make do 
with whatis at hand—and are not much 
more particular when they hit land. 

People exist along the entire spec- 
trum of behavior, from absolute hetero 
through bisexual to absolute homo. At 
some point what you are is less impor- 
tant than what you do, when you do it 
and with whom. Essence doesn't always 
predict behavior; behavior is mot al- 
ways a clue to essence. 

One argument against gays in the 
military is that men would be subject- 
ed to unwanted advances—in other 
words, that they would be subjected to 
the same harassment that women in 
the military are, from the rowdy 
gantlets of Tailhook to the mundane 
lechery of daily duty. Men would, in 
short, risk being treated like women. 
And that, particularly in combat units, 
is not a fear taken lightly. 

To introduce acknowledged homo- 
sexuals into combat units 1s in some 
respects different from introducing 
women, but not in one important way: 
It brings in the possibility of consensu- 


al sex. In every other area of a demo- 
cratic society based on individual free- 
dom this is good. But for a communal 
organization, sex presents different 
challenges than it does for a democracy 
made up of individuals. Almost every 
communal experiment has stumbled 
over the issue of sexuality; How does 
everyone love the group when some 
within the group love one another? In 
other words, if you fuck your buddy, 
do you fuck your buddies? 

The New Republic's editors argue that 
the military disavows homosexuality 
because the military has a secret: It 
doesn't want to admit that the bond 
that holds military men together is ho- 
moerotic. When I wasin the Marines, I 
bonded with a group of men I would 
never have met otherwise. We trained 
together, ate together, slept together, 
fought together We shit, bathed, 
and—off duty—fucked in front of one 
another. We loved each other with a 
deep, undying love. Supporters of al- 
lowing homosexuals to be open with 
their sexuality insist that this close 
bonding, this communal identity or 
love, would thrive if it included open 
homosexuals. They may be right, but 
it's a long way from a sure thing. And 
that’s important for one reason: The 
other thing we did together was die. 
The military is not just an organization. 
It goes to war. In combat, soldiers must 
bond together. 1 heir lives depend on it. 


Anna Simons, an anthropologist at 
UCLA, spent more than a year study- 
ing a 70-man special-forces unit. Her 
conclusions are an academic validation 
of what every combat soldier knows. Si- 
mons concludes that allowing gays to 
serve openly would destroy “small-unit 
cohesion." Simons suggests the debate 
is backward: It starts from acknowledg- 
ing gays and then adjusting to combat 
conditions, when in fact "you need to 
understand what being in combat is all 
about and then work backward before 
you begin your social engineering." 

"The bond that holds men together in 
combat is most like the love between 
parents and their children—an un- 
selfish, undemanding love more pow- 
erful than life itself. I would give my 
life for my children and for my buddy, 
and for no one else. The paradigmatic 
act for winning the Medal of Honor is 
giving your life to save your buddies. 
There are taboos against injecting sex 
into the love between parent and child. 
The taboos against injecting it into 
combat units spring from the same 
source. 

Homosexuality and homoeroticism 
are incompatible precisely because 
they are so closely linked. In The Sym- 


posium, Plato has Phaedrus argue that 
homosexual lovers make the best sol- 
diers because they fight more bravely 
for fear of disgracing themselves in 
front of their beloved. No one since has 
described the combat bond any better. 
But homosexual love can't hold togeth- 
era unit of more than two men, unless 
everyone fucks everyone else. Not even 
the most outspoken gay activist has 
suggested that. 

The essence of combat training is to 
expand the power of that homosexual 
love to the entire unit. Everyone be- 
comes lovers, but without sex. That is 
precisely why all soldiers fight in com- 
bat: It takes more courage to run, the 
natural response, than to fight because 
to run would be to betray your bud- 
dies. That bond is homoerotic, not ho- 
mosexual. Homoeroticism is the more 
fragile. It survives only if the homosex- 
vality that lies deeper beneath it is sup- 
pressed. It strengthens men in combat 
only if they can love their fellow sol- 
diers without fear of undermining 
their own sexuality. It is an exuberant, 
powerful, raunchy, vicious, deadly but 
ultimately innocent love. The moment 
the men who share it begin to ask 
themselves, “What did he mean by 
that?”—the moment they have to inter- 
pretactions and not simply live them— 
the power of homoeroticism slips away. 
Without that power, soldiers can’t fight 
as cficctively. 

America Online, a computer bulletin 
board, has been lighting up on this top- 
ic for months. I quote two of many ob- 
servations from combat veterans. From 
MtCowboy: "In many ways combat is 
more intimate than living with your 
spouse. People who haven't served 
haven't a clue what the life is like." And 
from JohnS426: “A sex act between any 
two consenting adults in a combat unit 
is like the mess sergeant feeding only 
two of the troops.” 

With civil rights we gave up trying to 
change people's hearts and decided 
what mattered was to change behavior. 
lt didn't matter whether you loved 
blacks, just so long as уси would serve 
them a meal or rent them a room. Bur 
in a combat unit behavior isn't enough. 
You have to love your buddies. Sure, 
you can hate them, too, and know in 
your heart that away from the unit you 
wouldr't even like them. But combat 
bonding is like sorcery. The ingredi- 
ents have to be right, you have to say 
the right words and your heart has to 
be pure. 

І come from a time when straights 
pretended to be gay in order to get out 
ofthe military. Now gays pretend to be 
straight in order to get in. During Viet- 
nam it was hard to imagine which re- 
quired more courage: to deny your 

(continued on page 172) 


p. 


“Let's eat, dear. Pue been dieiing for years.” 


97 


98 


STRAIGHT A 
STUNNER 


everything but her name, alesha marie oreskovich, 
is all-american. miss june’s grades aren't bad, either 


LOTHES are а pain,” 
says 21-year-old Play- 
mate Alesha Marie 
Oreskovich, who graces 

this month's centerfold. 

"They're a constricting, un- 
comfortable nuisance, which 
is why I always wear as little as 
possible.” Even as a child, as 
soon as her parents would 
turn their backs, Alesha 
would strip to her underwear 
and bicycle around the neigh- 
borhood. “Ar Grandma’s 
house it was like a nudist 
colony," she remembers. "Be- 
fore Га even say hi, it was 
off with the clothes. That end- 

ed at childhood, but I wish I 

could get away with it now." 

Thankfully she can't, or her 
classmates in southern Flori- 
da might have a hard time 
keeping their eyes on the 
chalkboard. Alesha is serious 


about her education, just your 
typical overachiever on two academic scholarships who has her sights set on a doc- 
torate in English. “I want that higher degree,” she says with determination, “because 
someday I plan to teach college.” 

Alesha's ideal man can't be a slouch, either. Intelligence, ambition, sensitivity, hon- 
esty and a quick wit are all prerequisites. “I wouldn't mind if he looked like Tom 
Cruise,” she adds, only half-joking. “I'm a romantic. My idea of a perfect evening is 
2 quiet, one-on-one dinner with my boyfriend. I've always been in long-term rela- 
tionships and have never been courageous enough to go on a blind date.” 

It was a long-term friendship that serendipitously led to Alesha's becoming a Play- 
mate. She was at а casting session a few years ago when fashion photographer and 
PLAYBOY scout Michael Moffitt recognized her unusual last name and discovered that 
she was Ше daughter of acquaintances he hadn't seen іп ten years. Moffitt had 
known Alesha as a baby and had also photographed her mother when she modeled 
in the Seventies. At Alesha’s urging and with her parents’ support—"My dad has 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


“Меп and women are more clike than they оге different,” says Alesha, who studied psycholagy in college. "1 think 
a male with feminine qualities, and vice versa, is attractive. With an andragynaus persanality, you have the best of 
both worlds. Althaugh 1 strongly believe in equality between the sexes, men hove some attributes wamen don't." 


subscribed to PLAYBOY for years 


and has issues older than me"— 
Moffitt submitted some test shots 
of Alesha. Once again, she made 
straight A's. 

"When I really want some- 
thing, I buckle down and strive 
for it with all my heart. 1 take 
everything to an extreme, and 
if it doesn't go the way I’ve 
planned, it's a major cris 
"That's the down side of being a 
perfectionist.” 

Alesha demands a lot from 
herself. Every weekday morning, 
she works out for an hour and a 
half, doing aerobics and weight 
training. “I go to an all-women’s 
health club because 1 don't want 
to put on makeup just to do the 
Stair Master.” Weekends are de- 
voted to jogging, which obvious- 
ly keeps Alesha in top form. 

“Americans have to get over 
their hang-ups with the nude hu- 
man body,” she says. “I wish we 
had a Scandinavian openness 
about sexuality here, or at least a 
European mind-set, where it's 
nothing to see women topless at 
the beach. After all, we were born 
naked and the human body is a 
beautiful thing.” 

Alesha, who lives with her par- 
ents and 13-year-old brother, has 
never had to brave life far from 
her family. “I'm lost when I'm 
away from them,” she explains. 
She also shamelessly admits to 


“1 love fattening foods like cookies, cake and ice cream,” claims a guill-ridden Alesha, showing no evi 
dence of a sweet tooth. "Luckily, I'm port Holion, sa | exercise the foad aff by talking with my hands. 


104 


getting homesick easily, even if she's just away modeling for a few weeks. 

At the age of 15, when Alesha went to New York to audition for modeling 
jobs, her mother and grandmother went along. She spent much of the next sum- 
mer alone, modeling in Paris, where she developed a deep love for impressionism 
at the Louvre. Alesha was unimpressed, however, by the French and couldn't wait 
to return to Florida. “The snotty stereotype is true. And when 1 tried to speak 
French, they laughed in my face because I wasn't speaking it properly.” 

Alesha is part French. She's also part Swedish, German, Yugoslavian, Italian 
and living proof that the whole can definitely be greater than the sum of its inter- 
national parts. Although people are sometimes intimidated by her beauty, Alesha 


confesses to being self-conscious and shy, especially among peers. "In high school, 
cheerleading was the only thing that kept me in touch with the other students. 1 
just wasn't happy around people my own age. Even now, I relate better to my pro- 
fessors than to students. Pm emotionally mature, which is why 1 get along so well 
with people older than myself, like my parents’ friends.” —row WOTHERSPOON 


“I'd love to live on the beach to hear the waves breaking, but | couldn't just lie around 
sunning myself all doy. Plus, аз a model, it's best not to have a partial tan. And to get a 
totally even tan, you can't wear a suit.” Well, we don't hear any neighbors objecting. 


= 


PLAYMATE DATA SHEET 


ми Dlesha. M. Oreskovich _ 
вот {рб D warst: OD ues: So. 
HEIGHT: : EIR wrr: — 1555 

BIRTH DATE: RE T2 втктнрглсЕ: 


AMBITIONS: TO See the world. To bea 
с 


2) АР 5 

fideli ДЫ E И 3^ 

SO SUE ME: те = te — put mustard on mu baked 

Potato 6 L drive li Pr EN 
would real 


IF I WERE A SENATOR: —— 
| 


SOME 


CHAMPAGNE de cvm ME: Reveal m M CUTE 
secrets (No, T’m not drilling chapopoore. nau 
"Tie mie Meinten ин Specs 


I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND: 


PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES 


The young man stopped his car on a lonely 
country road, reached for the girl and made the 
usual advances. Pushing him away, she said, “1 
hate to tell you this, but I'm really a hooker. 
The price for my services is twenty dollars.” 

The fellow reluctantly paid her and they 
had sex. Afterward, he sar тшу behind the 
wheel, making no effort to drive away. 

"Why aren't we going?" she asked. 

“I hate to tell you thi he said, “but I'm 
really a cabbie and the fare back to town is 
twenty-five bucks." 


А couple of mangy small-town dogs wandered 
into the big city for the first time. As they 
roamed the streets, they came across a parking 
meter. "Look at that," one said to the other, "a 
pay toilet!" 


mmm 
AUNT 
=> 


== 


Two recently retired CEOs had lunch at a fa- 
mous restaurant, then walked over to a nearby 
Rolls-Royce showroom. One of them bent to 
look at the sticker on the window of a new 
Corniche. 

“Seventy grand,” he said. “It’s a handsome 
car. Hell, Í think I'm gonna buy it.” 

Аз he reached for his wallet, his companion 
put a hand on his arm. “No,” he insisted, “let 
me get this one. You paid for lunch.” 


When the golfer shanked his first tee shot in- 
to the woods, his partner muttered, "That's a 
lost ball." 

"No way" responded the errant shooter. 
“That's a special ball you can't lose. First it 
makes a becping sound, and if you still can't 
find it, it emits puffs of smoke. If it lands in wa- 
ter,” he continued, “it sends out a stream of 
bubbles, but if it's too deep to reach, a flotation 
device brings it to the surface. It's impossible 
to lose,” 

"That's amazing," his partner said. "Where 
can 1 get one?" 

“I don't really know.” 

Puzzled, his friend asked, “Well, where did 
you get yours?" 

“I found it.” 


А husband was distraught when he caught his 
wife in bed with another man. In desperation, 
he sought advice from his rabbi, who coun- 
seled forgiveness. “After all,” the deric said, “а 
man cannot be held responsible for his actions 
below the waist." 

At that, the furious man kicked the rabbi in 
the shin. 


Two men on death row were scheduled for 
back-to-back executions. On the appointed 
day, the warden asked each if he had a last 
juest. 

“Yes, sir,” the first said. "I'd really like to 
hear Achy Breaky Heart one last time.” 
“And you?” the warden asked the other. 
“Please,” the second condemned man plead- 
ed, “kill me first.” 


Have you seen the new blonde invention? It's 
a solar-powered flashlight. 


Акнет a long dry spell without work, an actor 
answered a help-wanted ad at the zoo. Much to 
his dismay, he found that the position required 

im to don a gorilla suit End jump around a 
cage in imitation of its former occupant. 

Within a few days, however, the actor began 
to enjoy the attention he received from visitors 
ashe pounded his chest and swung from bar to 
bar. One day, in a moment of exuberance, he 
swung out through the top of his cage and in- 
to the lion's quarters next to his. The crowd 
gasped. The actor, frozen with fear, watched as 
the beast moved toward him. He began to 
scream for help. 

“Shhh. Be quiet," the lion whispered, "or 
we'll all lose our fucking jobs!” 


ЕС А 


УУЛ 


Dr. Hobson, you have to come over right 
away,” the frantic woman said to the psychia- 
trist. "My husband's in real bad shape. Please 
hurry!” 

The doctor arrived quickly. “Oh, Doc, thank 
goodness you're here,” the woman sobbed. 
“Just go down the hall. He's in the last room on 
the left.” 

The psychiatrist went down the hall, looked 
into the room and saw the woman's husband 
sitting on the toilet, dangling a fishing line in- 
to the bathtub. “Mrs. Chambers, you're right,” 
the medic told the woman. “He's in very bad 
shape. Why in the world didn't you call me 
sooner?” 

“I would have,” she replied, "but I've been 
cleaning fish all week." 


Heard a funny one lately? Send it on a post- 
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, PLAYBOY, 
680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 
60611. $100 will be paid to the contributor 
whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned. 


(As 
Y) Jl. 
к 


SU 


"Gee, I can even remember back to when you could eat them.” 


LOOKING FOR THE UNBALANCED, THE UNHINGED, THE UNLIKELY 
EPICENTER OF AMERICAN CULTURE? GO NORTHWEST, YOUNG MAN 


MY PARENTS built a small retirement house last year out on the 
Olympic Peninsula, the most northwesterly place you can go 
in the contiguous United States without falling into the 
Pacific Ocean. It's a lovely shank of land, mossy and ever- 
green, an area where trees tickle the feet of the gods and the 
very mist seems impregnated with Miracle-Gro. But like oth- 
er pockets of paradise in the Pacific Northwest, there's a dark 
humor, bordering on outright lunacy, entangled in the fog. 

Long ago, British mariners claimed that the Olympic 
Peninsula was full of cannibals, a perception born in the ex- 
perience of some sailors from the Royal Navy who washed 
ashore and ended up as jerky, passed around between cours- 
es by coastal Indians. The regional diet is more traditional 
now, butthat's about all that is. А carpenter's level applied to 
the psychic foundation of the Northwest would still find the 
place to be more or less off-kilter. 

The new family house in Sequim (pronounced skwım) was 
built in farm country between Kitchen-Dick Lane and 
Schmuck Road. When I asked my mother about this, she 
said the roads had been there forever, named for a pair of pi- 
oneers, Dick and Schmuck. And Kitchen-Dick? Oh . . . well, 
that's to distinguish him from the other Dicks around town, 
my mother told me. Of course. Why set off a subdivision 
with something banal like Easy Vista Heights when a practi- 
cal joke of the potato-in-the-tail-pipe variety can be had? 

The Pacific Northwest has never tried to hide its true self. 
Like an island cut off from the main currents of evolution, 
this far corner of the United States is something of a freak of 
nature that has developed a culture to match its surround- 
ings. And now that much of the world is being exposed to 
this peculiar strain of the American character, some inter- 
pretation is in order. My family has lived in the Northwest 
for nearly a hundred years, so I will assume—with apologies 
to all who disagree—the role of regional anthropologist. 

For the first time in its history, the Northwest is enjoying a 
major influence on popular culture, fashion and attitude. 
Perry and other trendmeisters have adopted for their 
high-end line this year the thrift-shop uniform that my little 
brother has been buying at Value Village in Spokane for ten 
years. Chris, the soft-voiced radio philosopher on Northern 


MOU OGRE Du mme gov Gagan ti 


в 
8 
E 
i 
H 
| 


114 


Exposure—which is filmed in the Seattle area and the Cas- 
cade Mountain town of Roslyn—has become an archetypal 
man of the Nineties. In ripped logger's shirt and greasy hair, 
Chris answers to a voice that seems to ride with the vind. A. 
fresh-steamed jolt of latté, far better than the acidic imitation 
of ship-canal bilge that used to pass for morning coffee here, 
is available at any convenience store from the Idaho border 
to the Pacific Coast. Starbucks coffee, born in Portland, is 
drawing converts 
across the land. 
As the gospel 
of plaid, grunge 
and latté-sipping 
spreads—along 
with the dark ele- 
ments of neo- 
Nazi survivalism 
and New Age re- 
ligion-by-credit- 
card—a basic 
question arises: 
Are Northwest- 
erners naturally 
weird, possessing 
an indigenous 
streak of wacko? 
Or does this part 
of the world just 
attract people 
who are already 
on the edge— 


Northwesterners ыр 
naturally weird, possessing. потреса Е 
an indigenous streak en 
of wacko?” et physical 


isolation of being 
walled in by mountains to the east and the ocean to the west 
has led to а psychological detachment. Seattle is 2841 miles 
from New York. But distance alone doesn't explain a name 
like Schmuck Road. It's something more, something that 
‚comes from the sky and sea: In the Northwest, more than in 
any other place in the country, the elements—earth and air, 
wind and fire—shape character. 

The Northwest was born with geologic birth defects, an 
unfinished land sculpted by earthquakes, mud slides and 
volcanoes that still haunt and refine the area. Between mood 
swings, nature has a sense of humor, and from it the resi- 
dents have taken their cue. How else to explain the official 
mascot of Evergreen State College in Olympia—the Puget 
Sound geoduck (pronounced gooey duck), a clam with a 
neck the size, shape and texture of a five-foot-long penis? Or 
the psychotropic mushrooms that sprout in cow pastures af- 
ter autumn rainstorms? Or Bigfoot? You may not believe in 
the foul-smelling, eight-foot-tall hominid of the old-growth 
woods, but the people here do. In Skamania County, on the 
Washington side of the Columbia River, it's against the law to 
hunt the phantom of the forest. 

Sitting in, say, Titonka, Iowa, it may seem that the North- 
west has become a sanctuary for pond scum and religious 
experimenters with large bank accounts. But the neon flash- 
ing QuikY in the left-hand corner of the map is generated, 
in many respects, by all Americans. And therein lies the sec- 
ond half of the explanation for this region's personality. A 
hundred years after historian Frederick Jackson Turner 
pronounced the American frontier closed, we still cannot 
shake restlessness from our souls. In the mid-19th century, 


upstate New York was where the frec-love advocates, Utopi- 
an communitarians and promiscuous Mormons planted 
their stakes. Later, it was California. 

When the Northwest was settled by whites, it attracted a 
certain type of character. A story about the Oregon Trail, 
which opened 150 years ago, helps to explain why. As Amer- 
icans pushed toward the Pacific in wagon trains, they came 
to a big Y in the rutted road just west of the Continental Di- 
vide. Those who chose the southern route headed for Cali- 
fornia and the promise of sunshine and gold-rush good 
times. Those who chose the northern route were on a course 
for rain country and winter days when the sun sets shortly 
after four p.m. Early on, the settlers in the Northwest devel- 
oped a reputation for tolerance, and a certain edge. The 
Cascade Range and the Olympic Mountains walled them in; 
the jagged coast kept out interlopers. The feeling was, and 
still is: You could be left alone at the edge of the continent. 
New arrivals have no past; nosiness is a low crime. 

Today two types of people are still drawn to the North- 
west: those seeking liberation in the scenery—the poets and 
idealists, the artists and tree-huggers with modems back at 
the cabin—and those who come here to hide and who view 
the mountains and raging surf as protection from a world 
they can no longer control. Thus, Eugene, Oregon is the 
center of alternative lifestyles, with a vaguely Sixties, Grate- 
ful Dead-loving tinge to it. But Springheld, its neighboring 
city across the Willamette River, is a hotbed of skinheads, 
mad-at-the-world loggers and religious fundamentalists who 
whipped the populace into such a frenzy against homosexu- 
als that they passed a law prohibiting protection for gays six 
months before Colorado gave itself the same distinction. 

Sandpoint, Idaho, at the base of the Selkirk Mountains on 
the shore of Lake Pend Oreille, can look like Sun Valley 
without the celebrities, or Lake Tahoe a hundred years ago. 
The city has well-stocked bookstores and cappuccino bars 
with National Public Radio playing in the background. But 
the woods around Sandpoint are full of folks who think а 
public-school levy is part ofan international conspiracy, and 
these people have loaded semiautomatic weapons to back up 
their notions. 

Free from the restraints of tradition and inspired by the 
extremes of landscape, Northwesterners have gone their 
own ways—sometimes to great disaster and embarrassment, 
other times to triumph. Consider Dr. John Kitzhaber, an 
emergency-room physician who until last year was president 
of the Oregon Senate, one of the most powerful political po- 
sitions in the state. Well before national health insurance be- 
came a presidental concern, Dr. Kitzhaber fashioned a plan 
to give every person in his state guaranteed health care, a 
law that is being phased in through the Nineties. 

But he is better known to some Oregonians as the author 
ofa song about stupid salmon, the kind raised in fish hatch- 
eries instead of the wild. Now, try to imagine a bunch of 
Chicago aldermen getting together in the proverbial smoke- 
filled room to pen an ode to kielbasa, and you have an idea 
why things are different in the Northwest. 

Politics, particularly in Oregon, has long been practiced 
like an extended comedy skit. 

Bud Clark, a bartender with a paintbrush beard, ran for 
mayor of Portland in the mid-Eighties. His experience? He 
had posed as a flasher in the famous poster with the inscrip- 
tion EXPOSE YOURSELF TO ART. He was elected to two terms as 
leader of Oregon's largest city. When he left office іп De- 
cember 1992, he rode off into a snowstorm on his bicycle. 

Last year, Absolutely Nobody, age 35, was a candidate for 
lieutenant governor in Washington state. A onetime manag- 
er at Winchell's Donuts, the candidate had his name legally 
changed from David Powers. He ran on a campaign promise 
to abolish the office and got 148,021 votes. He finished third. 

More traditional politicians also provide much humor, but 


ЖИ 


ЧЕЧ 
ү ж 


“Good afternoon, and welcome to the newest entry in 
America's talk-show derby.” 


115 


PLAYBOY 


116 


the punch line is usually delayed. The 
most recent examples are a couple of 
United States senators, Brock Adams 
of Washington and Bob Packwood of 
Oregon—both accused of sexual har- 
rassment. Packwood did wonders for 
the Oregon retail economy by inspir- 
ing T-shirts such as the one with a pair 
of handprints over the front, reading, 
BOB PACKWOOD WAS HERE. Not long after 
Adams was accused by a former aide of 
trying to seduce her with a pink drug- 
laced drink (a charge he denied), bar- 
tenders in Seattle began serving a 
strawberry-colored Brock cocktail. 
“Tom Foley, the Speaker of the House, 
hails from the farm country of eastern 
Washington and seldom passes over a 
federal handout relating to agricul- 
ture. Thus, Washington State Universi- 
ty, in Pullman, received a government. 
grant to study bovine belching. 


In matters of the spirit, Oregonians 
are justifiably proud of the 24-hour 
Church of Elvis in Portland (one of the 
better shrines to the King), but other 
religious oddities have been deliberate- 
ly kept off the tourist map. Remember 
Rajneeshpuram, named for Baghwan 
Shree Rajneesh, an Indian guru who 
owned 85 Rolls-Royces? The Baghwan 
turned the Oregon desert town of An- 
telope into a community of exiled yup- 
pies dressed in sunset red and chanting 
at his feet. Within four years of found- 
ing Rajneeshpuram, the holy one was 
piloting his fleet of English perfor- 
mance automobiles off to a grand jury, 
criminal charges and eventual deporta- 
tion. Now, he is but an asterisk from 
the Eighties. His 64,000-acre ranch 
went into foreclosure and became a 
ghost town. 

In the shadow of Mount Rainier, a 
former Tacoma housewife summons 
the whiskey-voiced spirit of a 35,000- 
year-old warrior named Ramtha—for 
a considerable fee, of course. Many 
people have left their jobs and homes 
and moved to the town of Yelm, where 
Ramtha hangs. On warm-weather 
weekends, they crawl through a vast 
maze inside a walled compound, hop- 
ing to find their inner selves while try- 
ing to avoid head injuries. They call 
themselves Ramsters, as in hamsters; 
most of them have advanced degrees. 

Rainier, which the Indians believed 
jas inhabited by noxious, gabby spirits 
inside its crater cauldron, has always 
had a psychic effect on people. It looks 
like an exclamation point on the sky- 
line, a 14,411-foot cone covered with 
ice from centuries of storms. People see 
things near the mountain that are not 
apparent at sea level. The term flying 
saucer came into the language in 1947, 


when Kenneth Arnold, a private pilot 
from Meridian, Idaho, flew near the 
mountain and reported seeing a fleet 
of fast-moving objects about 25 miles 
from his plane. They weren't Boeing 
test planes zipping around the big vol- 
cano, Arnold said. 

Another kind of religion, the wor- 
ship of the atom, flourishes in the 
desert where the Snake River joins the 
Columbia, around Hanford. Sections 
of three towns built virtually overnight 
during World War Two, in the rush to 
manufacture an atomic bomb, look like 
an aging set from a Fifties science- 
fiction movie. Richland High School is 
home of the Bombers—yes, named for 
the Big One—and their official logo, 
plastered around the school and on 
football helmets, isa mushroom doud. 

Even with the nucleophiles of Han- 
ford, the Northwest is often referred to 
as Ecotopia, from the Ernest Callen- 
bach novel of the same name. There is 
a great deal of truth in the stereotype, 
from which flows many of the Birken- 
stock-clad characters who people the 
land. Seattle may have 2 million people 
in its metro area, but these urbanites 
want to feel connected to the natural 
world. Within a two-hour drive south 
of the city, you can howl at the moon 
with a pack of four-legged carnivores 
at Wolf Haven, an orphanage for what 
used to be the most feared animal in 
America. 

Out of respect for the scenery, recy- 
cling is done with maniacal devotion. 
Portland was so concerned about viola- 
tions of a regulation against packaging 
food in polystyrene that the city hired a 
man known as the Styro-Cop to hang 
around fast-food restaurants looking 
for violators. Hey, drop that french-fry 
container! 

During a water shortage in Seattle 
last summer, homeowners were told 
to conserve. They did. Toilet-flushing 
dropped by nearly two thirds. It got so 
bad that the Water Department had to 
raise the rates to make up for the fact. 
that people were using so much less ОЁ 
its product. 

‘The most famous residents of all that 
clean water, the salmon, are worshiped. 
‘The Indians treated them as gods, edi- 
ble icons, and current residents exhibit 
no less passion. The University of 
Washington is the only college in the 
nation to have its own salmon run; the 
big chinook return to the doorstep of 
the school every fall. At the Pike Place 
Market, Seattle’s most popular attrac- 
tion, the fish literally fly as vendors toss 
them to the fillet men, who swiftly dis- 
embowel and behead them. Spike Lee 
used this scene as the visual center- 
piece for a Levi's commercial. 

And a few hours before child-killer 
Westley Allan Dodd was hanged at the 


Washington State Penitentiary in Walla 
Walla, he ate as his last meal—what 
else?—fresh salmon. 

Much was made of the way film di- 
rector David Lynch wrapped the body 
of Laura Palmer in plastic for the open- 
ing sequence of his ill-fated and ulti- 
mately incomprehensible television 
show ли Peaks. But Lynch, a former 
Boy Scout from Missoula and Spokane 
who helped to define Northwest noir 
style, was only holding up a mirror, as 
they say. Granted, the Log Lady, his 
timber-petting creation, was a bit of a 
stretch. But Lynch was onto something 
with his theme of darkness lurking 
amid the towering Douglas firs. For 
every glowing innovation there is a 
counter impulse. The worst crimes are 
not the property heists or S&L failures 
that drain an entire region, but inex- 
plicable, self-hating acts of violence. 

Perhaps the most prolific serial mur- 
derer in American history was the one 
who killed nearly 50 women in the 
Northwest during the mid-Eighties. 
He was known as the Green River 
Killer, named after the meandering 
stretch of water south of Seattle where 
many of the bodies were dumped. He 
was never found, and police have no 
idea why the killings started or why 
they stopped. Nearly a decade earlier, 
Ted Bundy was a law student at the 
University of Washington, a young Re- 
publican invariably described as clean- 
scrubbed and nice. One of his routines 
was to show up at the beach with his 
arm ina sling. He would then ask some 
woman to help him load his boat onto 
his car. Who could refuse him? He 
looked like a Northwest guy with a 
windsurfing injury. Bundy was electro- 
cuted in Florida in 1989 after confess- 
ing to the murders of more than 30 
young women. 

A few weeks before Christmas last 
year, a logger in northern Idaho came 
upon the frozen body of Johnny Ray 
Sharbnow, a skinhead. It turned out he 
had been killed by two other skin- 
heads, according to the Bonner Coun- 
ty prosecutor. They suspected he was 
less than loyal to the cause. The neo- 
Nazis came to Idaho more than a 
decade ago, looking for a place to es- 
tablish a "homeland" for white people 
with character defects. They chose the 
Northwest, and more particularly 
northern Idaho, because it was a place 
without color or accent. Every ycar ог 
so, a nco-Nazi makes national news 
when һе holes up in a cabin and starts 
shooting while shouting about Zionist 
conspiracies. 

With all the attention these loners re- 
ceive, people begin to wonder if the 

(concluded on page 144) 


GOLF CARTS 


ІШ 


TAE 


THIRD REICH 


HITLER’S A STAR ON CABLE TV, BUT YOU NEVER SEE THE NAZIS’ PROUDEST ACCOMPLISHMENT 


ISTORIANS cite the 1938 Al- 

bert Speer Pro-Am Invita- 

Чопа as the moment when 

golf in the Third Reich began its long. 

and eventful flirtation with mechaniza- 

tion, spearheaded by the rapid adop- 

tion and even swifter technological de- 
velopment of the self-propelled cart. 

Played on Nurembergs monster 

270-hole Burning Foot course, with its 

vast concrete fairways and an average 

distance of 12.3 kilometers from pin to 

pin, the Speer Pro-Am venue gaudily 


expressed the Reich ideal of the iron- 
legged, long-ball-hitting German Su- 
per Golfer. But not for the first or last 
time, self-glorifying Party propaganda 
backfired. Imagine the Führer's rage 
when no one in his 26-man team could 
stagger through 21 days of rain and 
fog to make the final cut, forcing him 
to award Germany's most prestigious 
golfing trophy to an unknown Balt am- 
ateur. A quick response was expected 
from the Reichsgolfinstitut. 

That response, of course, was the 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY BRUCE MC CALL 


20-1, little more than a motorized col- 
lapsible bath chair, but the world's first 
mechanized golf cart, nonetheless. 
The September 1939 outbreak of 
World War Two canceled that year's 
playing of the Speer Pro-Am. And by 
early 1940, Burning Foot had been 
converted into a tank-testing ground. 
But work on the ZD-1 and other cart 
types continued apace at the Reichs- 
golfinstitut's Augsburg “skunk works.” 
It is also known that a slew of proto- 
types were demonstrated on May 9, 


1941, to a wowed crowd that included 
Rudolf Hess. What made Hess, the 
next day, pack up one prototype and 
fly off to Scotland? To realize his dream 
of playing Troon? To peddle the golf 
cart concept to the British, as Goebbels’ 
Propaganda Ministry alleged? 

We will never know for certain. Be- 
yond question is that the sudden van- 
ishing of Hess and the prototype cart 
spurred a furious new burst of German 
golf cart technology—not only at the 
Reichsgolfinstitut but also in the mili- 
tary services, by personal order of the 
Fuhrer. Now that the British had the 
secret, Germany must build an insu- 
perable lead by working fast to outdis- 
tance thern with new golf cart designs. 

The rest is golf cart history, forged 
over the next few years in the larger 
story some call World War Two. The 
golf carts documented in this study are 
the heretofore unknown, unsung, un- 
seen golf carts of the Third Reich, 
trundled out into the sunlight from 
halfa century or more of hiding in the 
metaphoric musty shed behind Nazi- 


AFRIKA GOLFKORPS CART 


ZG-12, 1943 


dom's shuttered pro shop. 

Ladies and gentlemen, meine Damen 
und Herren—to the carts? 

The ZG-2.5 Grassblaster, 1940: The 
technological crudity of early Nazi golf 
cart design was epitomized by the tank- 
like ZG-2.5 that danked into service 
during the 1940 Blitzkrieg on the West- 
ern front. “A golf cart to be feared,” 
brayed the narrator of a Berlin propa- 
ganda film, "attacking sand traps and 
fording water hazards with merciless 
efficiency in the lightning conquest of 
golfing challenges from Belgium to the 
Swiss frontier" The 7С-2.5 even pos- 
sessed an eerie siren to scatter enemy 
foursomes in its path. But this mean 
Nazi golfing machine actually proved a 
godsend to Allied forces. The violent 
shuddering of its diesel engine, am- 
plified via that corrugated-tin body 
structure, left its riders numb, dazed 
and wandering—easy prey for snipers 
hiding in the rough. Its diesel noise 
and stench betrayed the ZG-2.5's posi- 
tion even during the torchlit tourna- 


GORING’S 


ments that marked Third Reich golf 
mania. Rejected as a gift by Hungary's 
Admiral Horthy, Albania's King Zog 
and even Norway's Quisling, the com- 
plete 12-platoon complement of ZG- 
2.5s found its way to Vichy France. 
Rare footage from a 1944 propaganda 
film shows them doing yeoman’s work 
during haying maneuvers. 


The Greenskeeper's Nightmare—The ZG- 
12, 1943: Legend has it that the gawky 
and cumbersome ZG-12 was devel- 
‘oped by the Wehrmacht itself as a last 
resort after the Reichsgolfinstitut's de- 
sign bureau had failed to produce a 
cart capable of carrying eight officers 
and their clubs over the notoriously 
steep and rocky courses of the Balkans. 
‘The truth is less savory—if more hu- 
man. Enraged at being denied a Mulli- 
gan at every hole by his Reichsgolfinsti- 
tut partner during the 1942 Wolf’s 
Lair Open, the Führer ordered the 


PERSONAL CART, 1942 


*THE GOLF CARTS TRUNDLED INTO THE SUN FROM HALF A CENTURY OF HIDING 


IN THE METAPHORIC MUSTY SHED BEHIND NAZIDOM'S SHUTTERED PRO SHOP.” 


ZG-12 contract yanked from the Insti- 
tute out of sheer choler. In any event, 
the Wehrmachrs novel wagon-and- 
trailer concept proved a bust from the 
moment it debuted in the Balkans in 
1943. Partisans in the hedgerows were 
adept at chopping the chain that con- 
nected wagon to cart as the ZG-12 rat- 
ded past, leaving сіріп horrified 
golfers to watch helplessly as the trailer 
and their clubs rolled away. But the 
ZG-12 hardly needed partisans. It was 
its own worst enemy. Deployed on mid- 
dle Europe's chronically soggy courses, 
the ungainly machine, with its giant 
tractor-type rear wheels, earned the 
lasting nickname of the Greenskeeper’s 
Nightmare. “If the course is not mud- 
dy and ruined to begin with,” wrote 
one embittered Undermower 2nd 
Class to his mother from Ruthenia in 
1943, “it sure is after a ZG-12 or two 
has done eighteen holes.” Scenes such 
as the one shown on the opposite 
page—a ZG-12 abandoned by the 
roadside like an empty beer bottle— 
were all too common by 1944 as the re- 
treating Nazis left scores of wagon-and- 
trailer units behind for the advancing 
Russians. Touchingly, in the only such 


G-101 OZYMANDIAS, 1945 


squeak through to a tournament win. 
Geared more for traction than for 
speed, the Landcrab was snail-slow: An 
estimated half of all units deployed 
were captured when golf-course traffic 
became so congested that there was no 
choice but to allow the advancing 
British to play through. Its lightness 
backfired in every sudden sandstorm; 
the other half of the Landcrabs lost in 


ZS-2 SEA WEASEL AMPHIBIAN, 1940 


gesture ever recorded in World War 
“Two, the Russians gave them back. 


The Landcrab—Afrika Golfkorps Cant, 
1942: Lightweight, agile, powered by a 
heat-proof, air-cooled engine, the af- 
fectionately nicknamed Landcrab was 
originally hailed as an ideal golf cart 
for the predominantly sandy courses of 
North Africa. Field experience re- 
versed that positive initial response. Its 
designers were threatened with courts- 
martial after the Landcrab's rackety 
engine noise was blamed for so abrad- 
ing the nerves of Field Marshall Rom- 
mel during the prestigious El Alamein 
Open that he blew a gimme putt on the 
final hole of the tic-breaking round, 
allowing Italy's Marshal Badoglio to 


North Africa were classified as “Gone 
with the Wind.” Within six months of 
its advent, the Landcrab was replaced 
in the Afrika Golfkorps by sturdily earth- 
bound Bedouin caddies. All remaining 
units were returned to the fatherland 
and assigned to the Strength Through 
Joy movement to be used as motorized 
shopping carts. 


The Limousine of the Links—Giring's 
Personal Golf Cart, 1942: Fat Hermann 
had already cracked the chassis of the 
first four prototypes he sat in. Panicked 
that the Reich's number-one duffer 
was about to literally if inadvertently 
crush the golf cart program, Reichs- 
golfinstitut engincers decided that the 
best defense was a preemptive strike. 
They hurriedly fashioned this special 


cart around the Reichsmarschall's 
unique dimensions and presented it to 
him as a birthday gift, seven months 
early. Góring was delighted—and pre- 
dictably enough, since der grosse Luxus- 
kart radiated his baroque tastes and 
love of comfort in every detail. It was 
constructed on a sturdy railway hand- 
car platform and fitted with dual rear 
wheels to support the combined heft of 
Góring and such on-board appurte- 
nances as a hot-chocolate tank, a duck 
press, a boot-shining machine and an 
inlaid mother-of-pearl tee caddy. Alas 
for Fat Hermann. the Luxuskart's first 
and sole appearance was at his home 
course in the 1942 Carinhall Open. 
One glimpse and der Führer, tears 
welling, congratulated Góring for de- 
veloping the one-man tank that Wehr- 
macht designers had failed to give him. 
He ordered it stripped of its luxuries 
and sent for tesung to the Russian 
front. The fickle Reichsmarschall's 
sporting interests soon drified to polo 
and the luge. Aside from an alleged 
sighting in Paraguay in 1948, later dis- 
counted, der grosse Luxuskart was never 
seen again. 
. 


Zenith and Nadir in One—The G-101 
Ozymandias, 1945: “Well, we had all 
these parts left over and nothing much 
to do.” That was the Reichsgolfinsti- 
tut technical director's simple expla- 
(concluded on page 171) 


nation for the 


Z-262 ROCKET CART 


REBECCA DE MORNAY 


ebecca De Mornay likes going in unex- 

pected directions. Films as diverse as 
“Risky Business,” “Runaway Train,” "Trip 
“And God Created Woman,” 
з,” “Backdraft” and “The Hand 
That Rocks the Cradle” underscore the 
point. The 30-year-old actress’ latest film is 
"Beyond Innocence,” with Don Johnson, in 
which she plays a lawyer. According to Con- 
tributing Editor David Rensin, who met 
with De Mornay on а rainy day al a Sunset 
Strip hotel and who has seen “Risky Busi- 
ness” about 30 times, the woman defies 
whatever a priori notions you may have of 
her. Says Rensin, “Rebecca requested a table 
by a picture window in the empty restau- 
rant—to watch the rain. Suddenly, she fixed 
her baby blues on me and said, 1 don't know 
if Tm in the mood for this.” But for a mo- 
ment 1 could have sworn she'd said, Are you 
ready for me?” It was just my imagination. 
But either way, the challenge was inviting." 


1. 


rLAYBOY: In the surprise hit The Hand 
That Rocks the Cradle, you play Peyton, 
a seriously disturbed individual. How 
much did playing her affect you? 

DE MORNAY: A lot. It was schizophrenic. 
She was very freaky and disturbed in a 
way that was almost unpleasant to 
watch. I guess that means I succeeded 
in the character. What was surprising 
was how much the audience 

about Peyton's predicament ini 
and then how much it loved to hate 
her. In Japan, she actually turned out 
to be the heroine. The Japanese are in 
love with their children and feel they 
have to be protected at all costs. They 
recognized how much Peyton loved the 


kids. One male 
america s N 5 2 
s th: - 
rockaby baby үүт 
explains why rmm 
love boils “Yeah, well, it's a 
movie.” He said, 
E “Why didn't she 
wote Re 
giveness and ly?" That was 
d funny. 

why marriage & 
is a risky sLAYBOY: How 
5 did you play 
business someone so. con- 
nected to chil- 
a] dren without 
having had the 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY RANDEE ST NICHDLAS 


experience of raising children of your 
own? 

DE MORNAY: As an actress you know that 
the primal emotions you'll be dealing 
with on-screen are ones you have expe- 
rienced by the time you're five years 
old. You've tapped into all the major 
feelings: love, hatred, rage, envy, mur- 
derous passion. You know them as a 
child. And then you learn to repress 
them, slowly but surely, as you grow 
up. You bury them. The horrible thing 
about burying feelings is you never 
bury them dead, you bury them alive. 
As for not having had my own children 
yet, Im glad. I'm still very selfab- 
sorbed, and the biggest gift you can 
give to kids is to be ready to have them. 


3. 


PLAYBOY: As one who's seen both sides, 
describe the common ground between 
extreme success and extreme failure. 

DE MORNAY: 1 spoke at length to a Zen 
monk about this question. What he 
said came at the time I needed to hear 
it. He said that the notion of success 
and failure is a game society educates 
us in. The game is dangerous because 
thestakes are incredibly high. Few peo- 
ple win. You pay the price of worthless- 
ness if you lose. Success is played out 
on the backs of others who are called 
failures. Winners are only winners in 
comparison with the losers When 
you're really involved in the game 
without realizing it’s a game, and you 
lose, you get the worthlessness. If you 
can realize that it’s a game, it can be 
fun. That's how it is for me today. I was 
blessed because my first two movies 
demonstrated the game profoundly. 
Risky Business was a huge success. 
That's very rare. My next one was a 
huge flop. At the time, the flop felt aw- 
ful, but nothing happens to me that 
isn't illuminating. It took a while to 
figure out. Now, I'm no longer emo- 
tionally attached to the results of the 
game I play because I understand it 
has nothing to do with me personally. 


4. 


TLAYBOY: How tough is it to convince 
yourself of that? 

DE MORNAY: The results of a movie have 
to do with my financial future, period. 
When The Hand That Rocks the Cradle 
became a success, did 1 suddenly be- 
come a better actress at that moment? 
After the success of Risky Business 1 was 
given a career that lasted nine years 


until my next hit. That’s very nice—a 
nine-year ride on one movie. 1 did a lot 
of other interesting things, too. But 1 
was moving on that movie because it 
was a hit. I'm grateful. Our financial 
livelihood is a matter of serious con- 
cern. Had it not worked out so quickly, 
I probably would have gone into some- 
thing else. As it is, even if The Hand 
That Rocks the Cradle hadn't been a hit, 
it didn't matter since I've worked con- 
tinuously since Risky Business. And with 
very good salaries. 


LE 


PLAYBOY: Oscar Wilde said “One's real 
life is often the life that one does not 
live.” What's your real life like? 

DE MORNAY: I'm living a life very differ- 
ent from my real one. I suspect most 
people are. I would be a nun. [Smiles] 
Really The concerns that are deep 
in my heart are addressed in the mon- 
astery. Running around to see how we 
can help or what difference we can 
make is mindless activity. You radiate 
your position. Every person has tre- 
mendous influence on everyone else, 
even by just being in the same room. 
So it becomes very important to do 
something for yourself. As Krishna- 
murti said, "Don't just do something, 
sit there." And if you really sit there, 
then you start to breathe. You start to 
feel your own breath. And when you 
start to feel your own breath, you start. 
to feel connected to your environment. 
And when you start to feel connected 
to your environment, you start to feel 
less frantic and lonely. And when you 
start to fecl less frantic and lonely, you 
start to feel kinder. And when you start. 
to feel kinder, you start to feel happier. 
And when you start to feel happier, you 
begin to make a difference. 


6. 


rLAYBOY: When God created women, 
what did He get right and get wrong? 
DE MORNAY: À woman is a wonderful 
creature. The dynamic of men and 
women, the beauty and the sadness of 
what men and women get right and get. 
wrong and the misunderstandings that 
happen can often be illuminated di- 
rectiy in sexual intercourse. The man 
has to become hard, the woman has to 
become soft. The man has to push in 
and withdraw and push in and with- 
draw, the woman closes around him 
and embraces him. The woman fears 
abandonment (continued on page 146) 


121 


the rubles fly 
when a 
junk-bond jailbird 
joims the peace 
corps to teach capitalism to 


the russians 


ASH 
AND COMMIES 


“WASHINGTON. D.C—The Peace Corps is sending its first vol- 
unteers to Russia this week. The volunteers, on two-year as- 
signments, were invited by the Russian government to teach 
Russian entrepreneurs.” 

—The New York Times, Nov, 20, 1992 


PEACE CORPS FAX 
From: Peabody Phelps, Associate Administrator, 
Project Golden Bear 
To: В. Staunton Tibbett, Jr., PC Assistant Deputy 
Director, Washington 
21 November 92 
Dear Roger: 

Arrived in Kashlak yesterday amid highest excitement. 
The volunteers and I know the challenge is great, but we 
feel our mission—to teach the fledgling Russian entrepre- 
neur how to survive and prosper in the free marketplace of 
capitalism—is achievable. Moreover, it puts us on the cutting 
edge of history. 

We were officially welcomed at the airport by Minister for 
Humanitarian Aid Dmitri Gouzenko, a fellow I would char- 
acterize as a bit on the pessimistic side. “In the course of 
your stay here,” he told us, “you may face insurmountable 
difficulties, but 1 call upon you to bravely resist suicidal 
impulses.” 

After the repair of our bus, which broke down even before 
it had cleared the airport, we were delivered straight to our 
offices—situated in a small but handsome building (I am 


satire by 
їз LEWIS GROSSBERGER 


ILLUSTRATION BY ARNOLD ROTH 


> yb ЧТ. 


124 


told it once housed the Renowned Pio- 
neers of ‘Tractor Repair Hall of 
Fame)—where we happily threw our- 
selves into our labors. Incredible as it 
may seem, in just one week we hope to 
commence Capitalism for Beginners, 
offering the following classes: 

* Money: What Is It? How Do You 
Get Some? 

e Transforming the Lazy, Depressed 
and Alcoholic Drone into the Diligent, 
Extraordinarily Motivated Yet Compli- 
ant Worker 

© Legitimate Profit and Armed Rob- 
bery: How to Tell the Difference 

* Elementary Smile Workshop for 
the Novice Salesperson 

Not to boast, but we've really hit the 
ground running. Enthusiasm is the 
highest I've seen in a group of volun- 
teers since our award-winning mop-up 
after the Southern Dahomey Rottin; 
Mackerel Tsunami of 1977. 1 feel like a 
schoolboy who has just heard the call to 
arms from JFK. Onward and upward. 

Peabody 
PS, CONFIDENTIAL 

Roger, I don't think Bobby Green- 
way is going to be a problem after all. I 
resented just as much as you did the 
high-level string-pulling that brought 
him aboard before the election. But we 
had a long chat on the plane and I 
came away convinced that Greenway 
really turned over a new leaf in prison. 
“All I give a damn about now,” he said, 
“js helping people. I used to be a mon- 
ey person. Now I'm a people person.” 
Darn it, Roger, the man actually had 
tears running down his cheeks. So far, 
Bobby has pitched in as avidly as the 
other volunteers and is very person- 
able besides. (The story he tells about 
how he introduced Milken to Boesky 
and how they immediately attempted 
to sell each other Pan Am stock is very 
amusing.) I believe he could be a real 
asset to the program. Of course, ГЇЇ be 
monitoring him closely. 


January 26, 1993 
Dear Pam: 

Hope this finds you, Doug and the 
kids well. This time your dear old ab- 
sentee dad is riding herd on 24 volun- 
teers in Kashlak (an industrial city of 
1.7 million souls on the Dnieper) and is 
in excellent health—except that his 
fanny is frozen solid most of the time. 
"Тһе heat never seems to work at our 
training center or in the small apart- 
ment I share with the Kalishnikovs, a 
typical Russian family. (She’s a brain 
surgeon, he's a college professor. They 
earn 2000 rubles a month; a carrot 
costs 3500) We wouldn't have any 
lights or phones at work, either, if not 
Юг one of our more resourceful volun- 


teers, Bobby. Greenway. In case the 
name sounds familiar, Greenway was 
one of those Wall Street-scandal types 
who was tossed in the hoosegow (and 
fined $4 billion) for trading bankrupt 
S&Ls to BCCI for worthless junk 
bonds that he sent to Iran for Israeli 
arms that he illegally leased to Nica- 
тарпа. I don’t understand how, but he 
made a fortune on the deal. 

Anyway, he was paroled after volun- 
teering for the Peace Corps, and here 
he is. Charming fellow, Bobby. When 
yours truly went to city hall to beg a 
local apparatchik, a hardliner named 
V. E. Vyadeslav, for help in the spirit of 
the new free-market Russia, the old 
walrus kept me waiting three hours. 
When I was leaving, he dumped a pail 
of rotten cabbages on my head from his 
window and shouted, “Со back home, 
son of bastard CIA spy!" But then Bob- 
by paid a visit to him and—presto!— 
everything was straightened out. 

Our dasses are filled with eager- 
beaver students, and many of us serve 
as advisors to the growing ranks of biz- 
nesmieny, as they're called. I am men- 
toring Konstantin P. Kevrensky, man- 
ager ofa refinery that used to produce 
tank fuel and is now struggling to con- 
vert to the peacetime economy. Bobby 
Greenway already has had great suc- 
cess with a 17-year-old named Arkady 
Zipkov, whom he found hawking state 
secrets in the streets. After a few weeks 
under Bobby's tutelage, Arkady seems 
to have put together his own little em- 
pire of kiosks selling everything from 
chewing gum to VCRs. He drives 
around in a BMW. Bobby jokes that it's 
too bad we're not allowed to engage in 
business or he himself would be the 
Donald Trump of Kashlak by now. 

І can't tell you how gratifying it is to 
be part of such progress. Working side 
by side with the Russian people, 1 feel 
proud to be contributing to their fu- 
ture society and, perhaps more impor- 
tant, helping to cement the growing 
friendship between once bitter Cold 
War rivals who now live in peace. 


Love, 
Dad 
. 
PEACE CORPS FAX 
From: Peabody Phelps, 
Associate Administrator, 


Project Golden Bear 
To: К. Staunton Tibbett, Jr., 
PC Assistant Deputy Director, 
Washington 
12 March 93 
Roger: 

Just a brief note to update you after 
our little health emergency. I'm back 
at my desk, though still feeling slightly 
woozy Had Bobby Greenway not 
rescued me from Kashlak Hospital— 


where the inebriated doctors weren't 
sure what was wrong but wanted to re- 
move several major organs in the hope 
of finding out—and had me flown by 
Russian Air Force personnel to a pri- 
vate clinic in Finland (the man has an 
amazing knack for making friends), 
heaven knows what would have be- 
come of me. 

Anyhow, when I finally got back to 
work, I found that some unusual prob- 
lems had cropped up. First, there was a 
virtual sea of attractive young women 
besieging the building, all waving pho- 
tographs of themselves. It seems that 
Bobby's young protégé Arkady has be- 
gun publishing a mail-order catalog 
that supplies Russian wives to foreign- 
ers. I tried to explain that this was пог 
a proper program for us to be involved 
in, but Bobby contended that it was 
good old basic capitalism and that the 
women "had merely found a market 
for their natural resources." 

I thought I was making some head- 
way against this argument when, un- 
fortunately, our discussion was inter- 
rupted by a burst of gunfire from 
outside. Several large-caliber bullets 
struck my office wall, ruining a valu- 
able framed photograph (the one of 
me shaking hands with Vice President 
Rockefeller at the dedication of the 
Paraguayan Zombie Rehab Station in 
1974) and barely missing Svetlana Ta- 
tiana, a rather striking blonde who de- 
scribes herself as an actress-stenogra- 
pher-entrepreneur and seems to be 
some sort of assistant to Bobby. Appar- 
ently, we were under attack by one of 
the local mafijas, violent criminals who 
demand protection money from hon- 
est biznesmieny. Having quickly гесоу- 
ered from the twin embarrassments of 
swooning and soiling myself, I noticed 
a large, sinister-looking individual with 
an eye patch who was plucking hand 
grenades from a briefcase and pitching. 
them down at the fleeing perpetrators 
(putting even more potholes in the 
street, I'm afraid). Bobby introduced 
him as Nikolai Rogov, chief of our “se- 
curity team." 

Well, this certainly ought to teach me 
not to get sick. As you can imagine, I'm 
utterly swamped with work and will be 
filing a more detailed report as soon as 
Icatch up. 

Peabody 
. 


PEACE CORPS FAX 
From: Peabody Phelps 
To: Robert Greenway 
2 May 93 
Dear Bobby: 

As you have been absent from the 
training center and unreachable via 
telephone for several weeks, I'm faxing 

(continued on page 150) 


"I would never have called you out, kid, if Га known you were busy." 


125 


126 


OT EVERYONE hates a loser. In 
N Seatle in 1991, the city sat by 

mournfully as the owner of the 
Mariners—the only major-league base- 
ball team in the Pacific Northwest—an- 
nounced he was selling the team and 
that the most likely buyer planned to 
uproot the club to Florida. 

It didn't much matter that the 
Mariners had been perpetual cellar- 
dwellers with one of the worst records 
in the majors. Residents of Seatde—in- 
deed, the entire region—didn't care 
that their team lost, they just didn't 
want to lose their team. Slade Gorton, a 
senator from Washington, organized а 
group of politicians and businessmen 
to help keep the Mariners. They ap- 
proached everyone they could think 
of 一 from Microsoft's Bill Gates to the 
executives at Boeing Aircraft—trying 
to find a financial angel. 

One of their stops was Nintendo, the 
Japanese video-game company, which 
has its American subsidiary based in 
Redmond, just outside Seattle. Ninten- 
do's U.S. president, Minoru Arakawa, 
wanted to help. Arakawa called his fa- 
ther-in-law, Nintendo's chairman, Hi- 
roshi Yamauchi, the secretive and pow- 
erful commander of the world's $10 
billion video-game industry. Yamauchi 
had never played baseball nor ever 
watched a game, but he saw something 
valuable in the Mariners Saving the 
team would be great public relations 
for Nintendo—as well as a way for 
Yamauchi to return something to the 
country that had made him one of the 
richest men in the world. Since 1985, 
Americans had spent about $17 billion 
оп Nintendo video-game systems and 
cartridges, so the $100 million need- 
ed to save the Mariners was pocket 
change. Yamauchi instructed his son- 
in-law to make a deal 

Senator Gorton and his group were 
elated. With Yamauchi's $75 million, 
they were able to put together a con- 
sortium of local investors that would 
enable the team to stay in Seattle. Ya- 
mauchi was happy, too. He got to look 
likea hero. Only one hurdle remained: 
baseball commissioner Fay Vincent. 

Vincent promptly turned Yamau- 
chi's PR coup into a media nightmare. 
No deal, said Vincent. Baseball is ап 
American game and baseball cannot 
allow foreign ownership. When it was 
pointed out that Canadians owned 
teams, Vincent modified his objection: 
There could be no non-North Ameri- 
can ownership. It didn't even matter 
that Yamauchi readily agreed to give 
irrevocable proxy of his voti 
to Arakawa, who was а 15-year resident 
of the Seattle area. 

Yamauchi's bid came at a bad time. 
"The American economy was reeling in 


the 


нате master 


a worsening recession, and the Japan- 
ese were viewed as the monsters who 
had lost the war but won the peace. 
Wittingly or not, the baseball commis- 
sioner placed Yamauchi's offer smack 
in the center of the trade issue, making 
Nintendo a lightning rod for America's 
hostility toward Japan. In Japan, ban- 
ner headlines portrayed Nintendo as a 
victim of the latest round of Japan 
bashing, and in the United States, Nin- 
tendo supporters called Vincents rul- 
ing racist. 

Sitting in his corporate headquarters 
in Kyoto, Japan, Yamauchi was sur- 
prised by the uproar. He didn't care 
about the team one way or the other, 
but he was concerned about controver- 
sy. One of his many successes was keep- 
ing a low profile. In fact, he had done it 
so well that few people, inside or out- 
side Japan, knew much about him. 
Now his name was on the front page 
of ‘the New York Times, and reporters 
across the United States were probing 
into his life. 

In America, baseball's ownership 
committee met in secret throughout 
mid-1992. Popular local support for 
Yamauchi's offer seemed to influence 
the baseball owners, and it looked like- 
ly that the Nintendo chairman would 
get his team. But just to be sure, Sen- 
ator Gorton played a little hardball: 
He intimated that baseball's antitrust 
exemptions might be reviewed by 
Congress if the commiuee blocked 
Yamauchi's purchase. 

Finally, on June 11, 1992, the club 
owners formally approved the deal. In 
Seattle, Yamauchi was viewed as a sav- 
ior—and got the PR boost he desired. 
Elsewhere, he was merely another 
predator from Japan making off with 
American treasures. Even Yamauchi's 
own countrymen viewed him with 


hiroshi yamauchi helped 
nintendo devour the video-game 
industry. now he's hungry for more 


wariness. “We know better,” said a busi- 
nessman in Japan. “Do not become 
involved in dealings with Yamauchi. 
Cross him and he'll squash you. Amer- 
icans will pay if they are fooled." 

In fact, we already have. 

In 1983 American companies domi- 
nated the home video-game industry, 
which was then worth about $2 billion 
a year. While the industry has tripled in 
size, today virtually none of it belongs 
to Americans. Ot the almost $6 billion a 
year now at stake, almost all of it heads 
Overseas to Japan, and much of that 
flows into the bank accounts of Hiroshi 
Yamauchi and his companies. 

Just how rich is Yamauchi? For the 
past three years, Nintendo Company 
Ltd. of Kyoto has consistently earned 
pretax profits of more than $1 billion a 
year, and its total U.S. sales were equiv- 
alent to more than ten percent of 


PLAYBOY P 


BY DAVID SHEFF 


ILLUSTRATION BY DAVID LEVINE 


f 1, 


E ў < 


Ан 


АЎ 


RI ALT 
— 
m _—=———— 
А 


NN Ss Е 


PLAYBOY 


128 


America's trade deficit with Japan. In 
1991 Nintendo supplanted Toyota as 
Japan's most successful enterprise, 
based on profitability, penetration of 
foreign and domestic markets and 
stock performance. Recently, report af- 
ter report chronicling the unhealthy 
Japanese electronics industry has cited 
one major exception: Nintendo, a com- 
pany that was virtually unknown a 
decade ago. 

Building Nintendo into a $4.2 billion 
giant took a kind of finesse and ruth- 
lessness that is rarely seen in any indus- 
try. Yamauchi uses, as an associate says, 
"whatever is required—threats, intimi- 
dation, coercion" and he has styrnied 
most atternpts to stop him. 

Despite all this controversy, Ya- 
mauchi remains a mystery man who 
doesn't even play his own video games. 
("I have better things to do,” he says.) A 
colleague once persuaded him to sit 
down in front ofa television set hooked 
up toa system. Yamauchi took the con- 
troller in his hands and tried to follow 
the instructions, but he quickly became 
frustrated and quit, refusing to try 
again. 

Hiroshi Yamauchi prefers to play a 
much bigger game. And he always 
seems to win. 

° 


Nintendo was founded more than 
100 years ago by Fusapro Yamauchi, 
Hiroshis great-grandfather, to make 
playing cards. Nintendo means “work 
hard, but in the end, it is in heaven's 
hands.” Hiroshi Yamauchi explains: 
“As much as we try, we cannot control 
every factor. Luck has to be with us.” 

At first it seemed as if luck was not 
with young Hiroshi. His father desert- 
ed the family when Hiroshi was still a 
boy, and his mother, unable to care for 
him, followed her husband out the 
door. Hiroshi went to live with his 
grandparents, who were restrictive and 
overpowering but exposed him early 
to the family business that he would 
Jater run. 

As a young man, Yamauchi was bale- 
fully handsome and debonair. He car- 
ried himself with conceited sturdiness, 
dressed in expensive, well-tailored 
clothes and kept his fingernails long, 
manicured and polished. His child- 
hood made him sullen and bitter, 
though he was able to disguise his 
moods with levity and a dust-dry wit. 

Anger dominates much of Ya- 
mauchi’s life. Even when his father 
returned, aged, ailing and anxious 
to make amends to his only son, Ya- 
mauchi refused to speak with him. The 
man had brought shame and dishonor 
to the family and was to be avoided. It 
was a decision that even the hardened 
Yamauchi was to regret. Years later, 


when Yamauchi was in his late 20s, he 
heard from a half sister he didn’t know 
he had: Their father had died of a 
stroke. She said Hiroshi should honor 
his father's memory by attending the 
funeral. 

Yamauchi sat alone for a full day be- 
fore deciding he would go. 

At the funeral, Hiroshi met his four 
halfsisters, his father's second wife and 
an aunt he had never known. He was 
overwhelmed when his aunt told him 
he looked exactly like his father. He 
wondered what else he might have in- 
herited from the man. And he began to 
worry that he might pay a psychologi- 
cal price for refusing to reconcile with 
and forgive his father. 

Such emotional turmoil was com- 
monplace in Yamauchi's life. Not long 
after he had enrolled in Waseda Uni- 
versity, his grandfather, Sekiryo, sent 
for him. The elderly man, propped up 
with pillows on his bed, spoke soberly. 
Ш health was forcing Sekiryo to step 
down, and Hiroshi was to assume the 
position that was supposed to have 
been his father's. He would have to 
leave school and immediately come to 
work at Nintendo as president. 

Hiroshi, responding without emo- 
tion, said he would take over the corn- 
pany, but he insisted on several condi- 
tions. The most important: He must be 
the only family member at Nintendo. 
"This meant that a cousin had to be 
fired,” a Nintendo director remem- 
bers. "Yamauchi wanted there never to 
be a question that he was in charge." 

Weak and saddened, Sekiryo had the 
cousin fired, and, in 1949, Hiroshi Ya- 
mauchi, then only 21 years old, was ap- 
pointed the third president of Ninten- 
do. The old man died soon thereafter, 
never sure whether or not his family 
and the business would survive. Since 
his grandfather never saw the success 
Hiroshi eventually had with Nintendo, 
Hiroshi was left with one overriding 
fear: that his grandfather died think- 
ing his grandson was an ill-mannered, 
disrespectful and spoiled child. Hiro- 
shi's daughter Yoko Arakawa says, "My 
father felt that he disappointed his 
father and grandfather and he never 
forgot it." 

. 


Young President Yamauchi was not 
welcomed by Nintendo's employees. 
They resented his youth and inexperi- 
ence and were worried that Yamauchi 
planned a clean sweep of longtime em- 
ployces. Their fears proved to be well- 
founded. He fired every manager left 
over from his grandfather's reign, in 
spite of their years of service. He want- 
ed none of the old guard who might 
question his authority. 


Although Nintendo was successful, 
selling 600,000 packs of playing cards 
a year, Yamauchi was restless. He 
planned to branch into new businesses. 
To finance them, he took Nintendo 
public and became chairman. "Ninten- 
do was a small company without re- 
sources, and we had to use caution as 
we grew," Yamauchi says. "It took some 
time before I found a direction.” He 
transformed Nintendo first into a com- 
pany with disparate businesses—a line 
of instant rice, a taxi service and a hotel 
where rooms for sex encounters were 
rented by the hour—and then into 
toys. One was called Love Tester. A boy 
and girl held the handles of the Tester, 
then joined their free hands. A meter 
read the current passing through them 
and determined, with mock scientific 
accuracy, how much love they had be- 
tween them. The device was a big suc- 
cess. Public hand-holding in Japan was 
still considered risqué, and the Love 
Tester gave young couples the excuse 
they needed to touch. 

By then, American companies, par- 
ticularly Atari, had created 2 multi- 
billion-dollar industry selling video 
games that were played in arcades, piz- 
za parlors and pool halls. Intrigued, 
Yamauchi launched an arcade-game 
division of his own. At first, Nintendo's 
games were unremarkable and busi- 
ness was precarious. Yamauchi turned 
to a young apprentice who had im- 
pressed him and asked him to try his 
hand at game design. The result threw 
Nintendo's American sales force into a 
panic. One salesman hated the product 
so much that he began looking for a 
new job. In an era when the big-selling 
games included words such as “muti- 
late” “annihilate” and "destroy" in 
their titles, this one had a ridiculous 
name: Donkey Kong. 

Many employees, induding Minoru 
Arakawa in America, implored Ya- 
mauchi to change the name, but he 
refused. “It is a good game,” he said 
firmly. Yamauchi may not play video 
games, but no one questions his genius 
when it comes to choosing them, “It’s 
like a sense for the fashion business, 
knowing what will become hot and 
popular next season. He can read a few 
years in advance,” says one Nintendo 
executive. “He is so certain that he is 
right that he listens to no one.” 

Yamauchi was, as it turned out, ei- 
ther remarkably intuitive or very lucky. 
Donkey Kong was an international 
smash, generating hundreds of mil- 
lions of dollars. 

If Donkey Kong could make that 
much from quarters, Yamauchi was 
sure that he could rake in more dough 
if he conquered the home video-game 

(continued on page 176) 


блекер WILLIE 


My last boy Friend 
Res good-looking... 


but ( hated 
bus Hhadhners. 


130 


GUESS WHO? 


anna nicole smith, the miss may 
who knocks us out in those sexy jeans ads, 
takes another trophy 


Paymaie ofthe Sea 


text by REG POTTERTON 


орук seen the Guess Jeans ads. The ultimate blonde, fighting her 
way out of tight dresses, straps falling off her shoulders, eyes smol- 
dering into the camera. She reminded me of someone—several 
someones—when I first saw the pictures. 

A hint of Marilyn Monroe and the great Dane, Anita Ekberg, yes, but some- 
one else, too, a blonde version of Jane Russell, perhaps. 

She has that attitude: Don't mess with me, mister, not if you know what's good 
for you. The challenge when she leans against a sun-bleached pole, cigarette coolly 
poised between long fingers. That look on her face: Does it say drop dead? Get over 
here, big boy? Or both? 

There was no clue to the answers when I called this familiar stranger to set up 
an interview. She was staying at an old-fashioned five-star hotel on Chicago's Gold 
Coast. That’s all 1 knew—that, and the fact that my call woke her up. 

“What time is it?” Her voice was soft, small, sleepy. 

“Just after noon. 

“Call me at two, please.” 

By four in the afternoon I was knocking on the door of room 444, counting the 


BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPHY BY DANIELA FEDERICI 
COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY BY STEPHEN WAYDA 


plates piled outside on а гоот- 
service tray Seven, all empty. 
This was a hungry woman. And 
there she was, on the threshold 
of a darkened room, blinds 
drawn, one shaded lamp on a 
table, TV blurting and squelch- 
ing in the background. Happy 
Days. The Fonz and the gang, in 
that diner where they hang out 

She was maybe an inch under 
six feet. Hair pulled back in a 
ponytail. Baggy top. Tight jeans. 
Cute socks, flat shoes. The voice 
was still soft. “Please don't look at 

y hair. It's got plastic in it. Plas- 
tic snow. For the movie. They 
haven't let me wash it for the past 
three days." 

That was my first glimpse of 
Anna Nicole Smith, the Guess 
Jeans girl, pLavnoy’s Playmate of 
the Year. 

I knew PLAYBOY put her on the. 
cover in March 1992 and then 
chose her for Playmate two 
months later, when she went by 
her original name, Vickie Smith. 
But the rest was unknown terri- 
tory. Who was she? Where did 
she come from? How did she get 
here from there? When did it 
all start? 

She sat on the side of the table 


with the lamp, I sat on the other, 
taking notes. Four o'clock in the 
afternoon and the bed wasn't 


made. It looked as though wild 
animals had been mangling the 
sheets and blankets, What kind 
of hotel was this? 

“Lousy,” said Anna. "I've spo 
ken to everyone from the maid 
up to the manager, trying to get 
the TV fixed. My bodyguard 
next door gets full cable service, 
I get the networks. I've given up 
asking. They don't listen." 

What's the point of having a 
bodyguard, I thought, if you 
can't use him to brutalize hotel 
people who fall down on the job? 
But I said nothing. Anna did all 
the talking. Never raised her 
voice, never displayed outrage or 
anger, none of that “don't they 
know who I am” business. While 
she talked, she chewed vitamin C 


Ot. many pairs of jeans can fit in a closet? 


Anna doesn't care anymore. She used her first 

Guess paycheck for a wild shopping spree, then 

had to build a new closet to hold all the goodies. 
134 At this rate, she'll have to build a new house. 


4 uccessis sweet for Anna, even though her hectic schedule 
doesn't allow her much time to enjoy it. She takes a moment to wax 
philosophic on the subject of exes: "When | think about all those boy- 
friends who cheated on me, | smile. I'm happy." Guess who's sorry now? 


tablets, kept an ear and some- 
times an eye on Happy Days, 
laughing at the jokes, and called 
me sir. 

"There wasn't a lot of Texas left 
in her accent, but you could tell it 
was there, hiding, perhaps, until 
she was back with friends and 
family. 

"Texas is where she was born 25 
years ago and lived most of her 
life, some of it in and around 
Houston, much of it in a small 
town about 70 miles south of Dal- 
las. From the age of 15 to 19 she 
was breakfast cook at the Chick- 
en House. "Its real name was 
Jim's Krispy Fried Chicken," she 
said, “but we all called it plain old 
Chicken House. I did eggs. I was 
real good with eggs. And okra. 
Mashed potatoes. Home-fried 
chicken. All that good stuff you 
can't get in these fancy hotels.” 

“What was that,” I asked, “a 
five-day week?” 

“Mostly seven,” she said. 

Anna worked with a girlfriend. 
They gave themselves nick- 
names. Anna was Cricket. “I was 
always jumping around.” The 
two girls married two brothers, 
one of whom, Anna’s husband, 
worked at the Chicken House. 
He'd been her boyfriend in high 
school. She was 17 when they 
married, he was 16. Both girls 
had babies a month apart, both 
got divorced. 

Anna took her son, Daniel, 
to (lexi concluded on page 170) 


PLAYBOY 


СирЕто MARRIAGE 


(continued from page 86) 


“You cam, of course, marry for her money, but trust us 
on this one: You'll earn every penny.” 


(3) Marry a grown-up woman. While 
it’s true that many men die of old age 
while in the throes of a mid-adolescent 
crisis, lots of girls will be girls until they 
finally decide to be postmenopausal 
women. For some girls postcollegiate life 
in the big city is just paid graduate work 
Their lives take on the familiar simplicity 
of campus dwellers: 

© The serious ones join the urban- 
professional equivalent of a sorority. 
They run the school newspaper and 
work on the campus radio station. They 
organize pep rallies and marches. They 
form odd cliques, travel in groups, go 
nuts for fads and play follow-the-leader. 

* The not-so-serious ones cultivate 
their social standing in the cafeteria, go 
to lots of dances and still see drugs as a 
metaphor for the smartness of youth. 

Both types mistake this extended ado- 
lescence for adulthood. Alas, they are 
often unhappy. Their unhappiness ul- 
timately becomes an issue they explore 
in focus groups and seminar-type set- 
tings, until they have an epiphany: They 
decide the problem is the men in 
their life. 

Unless you are also involved in 
putting together a back-to-school life- 
style, marrying an adolescent woman is a 
sure disaster, since she'll never grow up 
enough to have real-life competence. 

(4) Marry for sex. Married life is 
rough; sex is the lubricant and leveler. 

(5) Marry for money. No, not her 
money, knucklehead. Yours. A chap 
knows he’s made a good marriage when 
he sees how much better he’s doing as 
а consequence of marrying a smart 
woman than he was as a wasted bachelor. 
In their spare time, and without break- 
ing a sweat, good wives help build great 
careers for their husbands. Women are 
practical and, as is well-noted, they are 
especially practical about husbands. 

You can, of course, marry for her 
money, but trust us on this one: You'll 
earn every penny. Plus, you'll have lousy 
job security 

(6) Marry for kids. This is short, so 
read it twice: There are many women 
who do not wish to be involved mothers, 
who feel life without kids is plenty inter- 
esting enough and who find such satis- 
faction in other endeavors that they 
don’t need whatever it is motherhood 
has to offer. These women make great 
dates, but you don't have to marry any of 
them, especially if at some time in your 
life you want to be somebody's dad. A 
good father will only marry a woman 


140 who wants to be a good mother, 


ACCESSORIES AND OPTIONS 


While some women don't care to be 
discussed in other than literal terms, 
men live in a parallel universe filled with 
analogies that rattle around like loose 
lug nuts in a hubcap. So let's see what 
sort of mileage we can get out of a 
women-as-cars metaphor. 

If you want a wife who's fully loaded, 
look for these little extras: 

© In terms of design, get one that 
is functional, but avoid wagons and 
minivans. 

ә You'll eventually outgrow а convert- 
ible. Besides, it provides almost no crea- 
ture comforts, and you can’t drive it in 
bad weather. 

© A coupe is a good bet, since a lithe, 
sleek look always suggests a sporty atti- 
tude, especially if you avoid the current 
affection for puffy, rounded edges. And 
while it isn’t spacious, a coupe is usually 
sufficient to accommodate two small 
backseat passengers. 

© Upholstery can be seductive. Rich, 
Plush appointments often seem like a 
good idea, but you really should forget 
the velour and go for vinyl. Vinyl never 
ages. Look at Cher. 

* А/С, P/S, Р/В, A/T, cruise. Tempera- 
ture control is good, of course. The oth- 
er amenities make life on the road safer, 
less tiresome, easier to handle. But com- 
Plicated options can mean high mainte- 
nance costs when the warranty runs out. 
Maybe you should plunk down for the 
extended-service plan. 

* Get something with power. Occa- 
sionally, you just want to get out on the 
four-lane, blow out the carbon and re- 
member what it was like the first time 
you did 

e Visit the factory: Check ош Mom 
and Dad. Any important body parts 
missing—such as brains or hearts, for in- 
stance? Her parents’ home will haunt 
her forever, so give it а close once-over, 
since you'll soon be living in the figura- 
tive attic. 


BUREAU OF MARITAL CONTRACTS, 
DEPARTMENT OF BLISS. 


Varieties of religious experience: 
There are two fundamentally different 
ways to look at a wedding. To some it's a 
church thing. To others it's a state affair. 

So choosc. A religious ceremony or a 
civil one? It's a mistake to confusc these 
two types of weddings, by the way. If you 
have even the slightest doubt that your 
marriage will survive every single onc of 
life's obstacles, then don't take marriage 
vows in a church or synagoguc, despite 
the fact that these buildings provide a 


nice, traditional backdrop. Cet married 
at city hall or in front of a clerk at Sea 
World. Because on the off chance that 
there's something to this whole God 
question—and on the even more remote 
possibility that churches have something 
to do with it—it’s a smarter gambit to lie 
to a burcaucrat than to a clergyman. 

Discussing marriage ceremonies in 
conceptual terms is one thing, but once 
you decide to get married, it's all out of 
your hands anyway. While your bride 
and her family will be doing the impor- 
tant work of the ceremony and recep- 
tion—hiring the caterer, finding a band, 
refinancing their house—you have to re- 
member only three relatively minor 
things: 

© Show up. 

* Don't get in the way. 

ә Don't fall over. 


THE LAWS OF MARRIAGE 


Some things you car't help but notice: 

* Marriage makes you stupid. Under 
the constant scrutiny of our wives, who 
are always wondering why they made 
the choices they did, men begin to glow 
with perspiration, because the inevitable 
result of this surveillance is an acute sen- 
sitivity to our inadequacies. Worried 
about meeting not only our responsibili- 
ties but also our wives’ expectations, and 
aware of every minor failure, we begin to 
fear we are slowly becoming the idiots 
our wives already suspected we were. 

* Your wife will pick a fight with you 
when you look your stupidest—e.g., 
half-shaved, in boxers or while flossing. 

* Your vife will launch into a lengthy 
discourse at the exact moment you seek 
to excuse yourself to visit the toilet. 

e During the evening newscast, your 
wife will remain silent during commer- 
cials and talk through the news. 

© The longer you wait to catch a base- 
ball score, the more likely it is that your 
wife will ask you an idle question the mo- 
ment the score is reported. 

* Your wife will break wind within 
five seconds of your decision to initiate 
romance. 

* The later it is, the more tired you 
are, the more important the breakfast 
meeting the next morning, the more 
likely your wife is to attempt to se- 
duce you. 

© A marriage that lasts eight years will 
last a lifetime. 

(It should be noted that this hope- 
ful marital lzw is widely reported using 
different numbers, ranging from three 
to 15.) 

* You meet more attractive, available 
women during the first year of your 
marriage than you did in all the years 
preceding your marriage. 


MARITAL MOJO 


You meet a woman and fall in love and 
she's not safe with you in the same room. 
You can't keep your hands off her, you 


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PLAYBOY 


142 


devise new sexual positions and play out 
fantasies with her like the despicable 
pervert you have become. You rut and 
when she's not around, you're a one- 
armed fool with nothing but her on your 
mind. You're a monogamous sex fiend. 

"Then you get married and you start to 
lose things. Like your sex drive. Where 
the hell did that thing go? you wonder. It 
was here a second ago. 

* Don't look for what isn't missing. 
Don't mistake passion's pubescent fervor 
for sex. Sex is like soybeans. It's the mir- 
acle filler found in almost every aspect of 
married life. You can hide it under a lay- 
er of affectionate sentimentality or serve 
it up naked as passion. 

© Passion isn’t the normal symptom of 
sex. The sexual marathon that often 
precedes infatuation's grand finale is not 
a static condition of life with women. If it 
were, nobody would be able to work. Or 
walk. So long as there is a sexual context 


to your marriage—that is, so long as you 
see your marital partner as a sexual be- 
ing at least part of the time—then pas- 
sion will take care of itself. Remember 
how, in the throes of lust, it seemed as 
if your dick lived a secret life all its own? 
So does passion. Passion keeps its own 
calendar and comes out to celebrate its 
own private holidays. You'll be the first 
to know. 

e Make room for sex. Nothing fills up 
а house like a marriage. Two people can 
live together in relative sexual bliss for 
years. You add a marriage contract and 
suddenly there's no room for anything. 
The place is packed; you can't turn 
around. 

By the way, if you think it's crowded 
with two married people in one house, 
remember this: Children are on constant 
guard against sex. If the border patrol 
did for borders what kids do for sex, 
the only illegal aliens in America would 


"Lennie's so much more fun since he read Camille Paglia." 


be those from Mars. 

* Think dirty thoughts. Don'tlet your 
love object cease to be a sex object. Ex- 
periment. Watch an crotic film, invite 
the Sharon Stone of your mind to join 
you for a threesome, sit around naked 
with anders on your head, or talk cheap, 
carny trash го each other, Among mar- 
tied people, anything goes that works. 

e Remain on intimate terms. The rela- 
tionship that you enjoy with your wife 
should always be intimate. The best way 
to do this is to allow her some privacy, 
maintain your own and foster a sense of 
differentiation. 

Another surefire way to keep a certain 
level of intimacy: Protect the secrets you 
share with your wife. Never let your sex 
life become the common currency of 
your conversation. 

* Miss her. The only suggestion that 
Mencken had for achieving this was to 
take separate vacations. If you were mar- 
ried to Mencken, of course, that would 
be perfect, but for most people it isn’t a 
practical solution, or even a helpful one. 
The abstract idea is good, though: Too 
much oneness can make coupling a little 
problematic. 

® Don't panic. Sometimes sex takes а 
separate vacation and leaves one or both 
of you behind. If your wife suddenly 
seems preoccupied or otherwise distract- 
ed from sex, don’t make a fuss. Marriage 
requires infinite flexibility. Before insist- 
ing that she always operate at your level 
of sexual activity, try to understand her 
need for a little physical withdrawal 
from time to time. Of course, some guys 
use this situation as an opportunity to 
grab a ukulele, slip into a polyester 
Hawaiian something, douse themselves 
with English Leather and sing My Baby 
Don’t Give Me Good Lovin’ at the top of 
their lungs beneath some sympathetic 
single woman's window. The potted 
plant that inevitably clocks them on the 
head comes courtesy of their wives’ 
lawyers. 

е Don't take your sexual relationship 
for granted. As in other aspects of life 
with women, you just have to pay atten- 
tion sometimes. 


LOOSE SHOES 


Look, no hard feelings here, but the 
best women aren't terribly sentimental 
about this marriage business. When a 
woman decides to marry, either she's 
been removed to a state of irrationality 
and will therefore marry the wrong man 
and so be made to suffer much distress, 
or she has already lived through the 
crazy parts of a love life and now brows- 
es for a husband with all the wild aban- 
don of a spinster buying sensible shoes. 
1f you want a good wife, be a wing tip, 
not a loafer. 

Remember that, lads: A wing tip. Not 


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PLAYB 


144 


А Revolution (continued from page 116) 


"Rock musicians—Nirvana, Pearl Jam—have sworn 
Єл TEL 
off the term grunge, fearing it like a K-Tel cliché. 


woods are crawling with them. In truth, 
there are probably more FBI informants 
than card-carrying Hitlerites in the pan- 
handle of Idaho. But it does raise the 
question of why they keep coming to the 
Northwest 

The answer is the scenery. When a 
high peak snags a cloud at sunset, it 
brings to most people a sense of awe, or 
gratitude for the artistry of nature. But 
survivalists sec a barbed-wire gate clos- 
ing with that same sunset. To them, the 
mountains are a fence. Isolation fosters a 
distinctive brand of ignorance. 


By the same token, the sense of re- 
moval from the mainstream, the rhythm 
that comes from being in the arms of the 
land, has produced much that is origi- 
nal, life-enhancing and wonderfully 
weird. Jimi Hendrix was born and 
buried in Seattle. The Far Side, which rev- 
olutionized American cartooning, is the 
product of Gary Larson, a Northwest na- 
tive. Katherine Dunn, the Portland au- 
thor of a novel about circus dwarfs called 
Geek Love (nominated for the National 
Book Award), said that freaks are al- 
lowed to flourish under the gray skies of 


“So this 15 the famous Lotus position.” 


the Northwest. Here is the best kind of 
elbowroom, she said: room to fail 

The most stunning art was done by 
people who have lived here for nearly 
10,000 years, the Salish-speaking natives 
who carved figures into cedar totem 
poles that rival Picasso's cubist efforts. 
And today, the best art is work that tries 
not to mimic something elsewhere but 
reflects oddball Northwest sensibilities. 

The Seattle Art Museum hired Phil- 
adelphia architect Robert Venturi, a dar- 
ling of critics, to design the city’s new 
$60 million house of art. After Venturi 
had collected a geoduck-shellful of fa- 
vorable press dippings—and the Seattle 
art foo-foos had all agreed his creation 
was "stunning" and "divine"—there rose 
in front of the museum last year a 
strange image in iron. Weighing more 
than 20,000 pounds and standing 48 
feet tall, Hammering Man—as it 
called—looks like a working guy in si 
houette, complete with an arm holding a 
hammer that rotates up and down, pow- 
ered by a huge motor. It is so out of place 
for a city's namesake museum, but so in 
keeping with the region's contrarian im- 
pulses, that it fits. Hammering Man will 
live with the Jetson-age Space Needle as 
an ageless gag on the city's skyline. 

When its 15 minutes are up, the hope 
among many people here is that the 
Northwest will hold to its basic rhythms 
of life, or at least not become self-con- 
scious about its personality quirks. What 
happens to American originals is a short 
road from character to caricature. The 
rock musicians who made such a splash 
with the Seattle sound—Nirvana, Pearl 
Jam, Alice in Chains—already have 
sworn off the term grunge, fearing it like 
the K-Tel cliché it will one day be. In an 
age when the homogenizing reach of 

ia is undeterred by distance or 
Salem, Oregon could easily 
become indistinguishable from Salem, 
Massachusetts. With each neighborhood 
notion that gocs national, the local сс- 
centrics lose something. 

What may keep the basic Northwest- 
erner one bottle short of a six-pack 
what has always nurtured the offbeat 
the Far Corner: the moods of sky, sea 
and quivering earth. Behind the fortress 
walls of the Cascades are cities of light in 
the alpenglow of ten r.m. summer sun- 
sets, and cities of gloom in the mid-win- 
ter mildew. The volcanoes are alive, 
though dormant. Light and darkness, 
fire and ice—the elements are not mere 
abstractions. And the people who live in- 
side the postcard remain as much a part 
of the scenery as those doomed flying 
fish at the Pike Place Market. That West- 
ern historian, Frederick Jackson Turner, 
had it wrong. The frontier is not dead. 
It’s just harder to find. 


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PLAYBOY 


146 


REBECCA DE MORNAY (continued from page 121) 


"What turns me on is if I can sense that someone is in- 
to life, is into sex, is into compassion.” 


and aggression, the man fears suffoca- 
tion, Neither comes to anything without 
the other. And when they respect each 
other, they dissolve and become one. 
The mystery of men and women is beau- 
il he war created by misunderstand- 
ing is sad. Even if you don't understand 
these things, you're illuminated instantly 
in the act of sex. 


ты 


PLAYBOY: And what do you know for cer- 
tain about love? 

DE мовмлу: That's the only question that 
really interests me. I know three thin, 
The first one I realized when I was si 
teen. There had been a bombing in 
Beirut, and I saw a photograph in a 
newspaper of a woman stretched out 
across the rubble of this bombing site, 
with her face contorted in a grimace of 
misery because her husband was under- 
neath the rubble. I stared at her face and 
asked myself: Is there anyone that I 


know or have ever known that 1 would 
feel that way about? At that point, I 
couldn't answer yes. The second thing 
I also learned when I was a teenager. I 
had many boyfriends and I was in love a 
lot, supposedly. I didn't want to make 
love because I had a certain idea about. 
the first time. But I was involved in some 
serious embraces. [Smiles] Finally, 1 went 
to this girl who I knew had slept with 
somebody and I said that during these 
embraces I had felt such and such. I 
asked, “Did [ have an orgasm?" She said, 
“If you have to ask, then you didn't have 
one.” The third thing 1 know is that 
there's only one kind of love that every- 
one's really turned on by. It has to do 
with forgiveness. 

There are so many feelings that fall 
under the blanket of loving someone. 
Yet we have only one word to describe 
them all. There are so many different 
ways to love, different gradations. Like a 
haiku. Yet, whether it's sharing silence 


“What's wrong, Ahab? Is there someone else?” 


or wild sex, the element of forgiveness is 
what we're all looking for. 


8. 


т.лүвоу: Describe Leonard Cohen and 
then describe yourself when you are 
with him. 

DE NORNAY: ГИ compromise with you, be- 
cause I'm reluctant to talk about my per- 
sonal life. Someone asked me, "What's 
your favorite color?" and I had to give 
four adjectives. Then I was asked, 
"What's your favorite animal?” and 1 
had to give four attributes. Later, 1 was 
told that the four adjectives for color 
were how I saw myself, and the four at- 
tributes of the animal were what I was 
looking for in the opposite sex. So, my 
favorite color is black. I said it is mysteri- 
ous, strong, feminine, unknowable. My 
favorite animal is a wolf: magnificent, 
lethal, misunderstood and mates for life. 


BE 


rLAYBOY: What do older men know that 
younger men don't? 

DE MORNAY: They may not have the sta- 
mina, but they usually get it right the 
first time 


10. 


FLAYBOY: We suspect that most beautiful 
women can sense when a man wants 
them—because most men probably do. 
Who's more intriguing: a man who's ob- 
viously desirous, or a man who is but 
hides itz 

DE MORNAY: I dont like a lot of hiding. 
You can hide yourself completely. Hid- 
ing is for advanced people. What turns 
me on, besides this thing called chem- 
which is completely undefin- 
is if I can sense that someone is in- 
хо life, is into sex, is into compassion, is 
into justice, is into being alive. Гш not 
puuing down attention to form, but 
there's something to the idea of breaking 
form. How many rules have you broken 
lately? You can read it in somebody's 
eyes. 1 want that person who can balance 
true integrity with abandon, with cour- 
age. I'm not interested in somebody who 
just, yeah, loves to fuck, loves to enjoy 
life. You really examine the thing on a 
deeper level and it comes out. Every- 
thing that you are, you scc right away 
when you mect somconc. You can't hide 
too much unless you're an advanced 


game player. 


11. 


ruavnov: How do you reward a guy 
who's interested in your mind? 

DE Mornay: I give him something to 
think about. 


12. 


PLAYBOY: Writers tend to gush when 
describing you. They use “dark allure,” 
“face like a saucer of cream," "sympa- 
thetic but repugnant,” "she can shoot 
that look across the room that says ‘I 


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147 


PLAYBOY 


M8 


want you now.” What does your face say 
when you're not trying to make it say 
anything at all? 

DE NORNAY: I just got a video camera. I've 
been shooting myself, setting it up facing 
a mirror, looking into the mirror. I was 
surprised because it was one of the 
few times I've seen myself on camera 
without makeup, with no pressure to 
perform. And I talked. I invented a 
monolog that was close to my heart at 
that moment. What I saw was this girl, a 
woman, whose face scemed extremely 
tender, sad and compassionate. That's 
probably not what would normally be 
associated with me. 


13. 


ылувоу: What does the car you drive say 
about you? 

DE MORNAY: [Laughs] Its a black 1992 
Accord. Camel interior. Automatic. Or- 
пагу. Nondescript. It’s terrific. Com- 
pletely dependable. I don't want any- 
thing else from my life. I thought for two 
years about what kind of car I wanted. I 
don't think for two years what kind of 
guy I want. I just find myself involved. I 
used to drive a 1965 Mustang. I loved it. 
It was an outlaw thing. But 1 got tired of 
it, especially when it was raining and 
the windshield wipers did not work 
well. I realized the outlaw thing had 
lost its charm. I craved dependability, 
nonpompousness, non-self-promotion, 
non-razzle-dazzle. I wanted а car that 
delivered out a Jot of fanfare, that 
wouldn't let me down. You tell me what 
that says about me. 


14. 


ылувоу: ЕШ in the blank: I’m still look- 
ing for someone to — with. 
DE NORNAY: To take off with. People as- 


sume I have a lot of freedom, that 1 can 
just pack up and split. When I started as 
an actress, working as an apprentice on 
Coppola's One from ihe Heart, Y 
ding by the commissary table. 
munching candy, and Francis came up 
to me and said, "Would you get on 
a plane this afternoon and go to 
Bangkok?" And I said, "Yeah." He said, 
“But would you really? Would you really 
be able to leave everything behind?" 
This is what I ask myself and anybody I 
meet. Most people, when it comes right 
down to it, cannot leave the scene 
they've structured for themselves—a 
scene they often complain about. I think 
that I can. And I think that I will. 


15. 


PLAYBOY: You were married for ten 
months to screenwriter and novelist 
Bruce Wagner. We've read that he pur- 
sued you relentlessly and that you mar- 
ried him because it was the only way you 
could figure him out. What did that ex- 
сгсїзс tell you about yourself? And what 
part of marriage doesn't stop when the 
marriage is over? 
DE MORNAY: I have been afraid of mar- 
riage for most of my life. 1 wondered 
what it was supposed to give me. Bruce 
and I didn't join ourselves forever, ritu- 
ally, in the eyes of God. We ran off to Las 
Vegas and neglected the spiritual side of 
it. Now I realize that that’s what interests 
me about marriage: the courage to make 
that pledge before God. I'm not speak- 
ing out of turn when I say that Bruce 
and I were not supposed to be married. 
We were just trying to figure out some- 
thing about ourselves. But now I would 
like to make that pledge with the right 
person 

What hasn't stopped is the exquisite 


her hearts 
Lhe side entrance , 


memory that you and this other person, 
with tremendous courage and in spite of 
tremendous fear, dove offa cliff together. 
Especially if you're a person like me 
who's afraid of commitment and intima- 
cy. You don't tend to take too many leaps 
off cliffs. It's a little dangerous. I'm hap- 
py both of us weren't wrecked. 


16. 


rLaYbOv: About which do you feel most 
insecure: career or relationship? 

DE MORNAY: It used to manifest itself 
more in my career. Now it’s in my per- 
sonal life. Honestly, an acting career de- 
mands the least amount of commitment. 
You have to commit to three months of a 
job. After that, you can quit being an ac- 
tress. It's kind of ideal. [Pauses] I know 
I'm not in it for just a three-month fling. 
I keep coming back. I have to earn a liv 
ing. But it's like you sometimes play little 
games with yourself when you're in a se- 
rious personal relationship. You say, “ГИ 
give it two more months and if it doesn't 
work out, it’s over.” 


17. 


млуноу: What would you never say over 
the phone? 
DE MORNAY: “Let's get a divorce.” 


18. 


млувоу: What part of a man's wardrobe 
should he always pay morc attention to? 
DE Moxnay. Tis pants. There's the yup- 
suit trend, with these baggy pants. 
It's not bad, but you want to see a little 
more than what the suit pants show. The 
tight-jeans look is also gauche. The idea 
is to find the pants that hang so that you 
can see but not see, that fit but don't fit. 
19. 

riaveov: We always hear that there are 
no good scripts, especially for women. 
What are the writers getting wrong—or 
does the fault lie higher up? 

DE MORNAY: Depends on your expecta- 
tions. Mine are very low. I don't consider 
Hollywood the piace where the new 
Shakespeare is going to be found. It’s 
not like, “Oh, Гуе read ten bad scripts, 
but here’s one that rivals Chekhov.” 
They just don't. Film is a populist art 
form. Yes, occasionally there’s an offbeat 
film that is thought provoking. Film is 
the dream. The dreams being written 
are the dreams of our people. How bad 
are our dreams? The American dream is 
bad right now. It's the American night- 
mare. lm hopeful it will turn around 


20. 
PLAYBOY: A year ago you described your- 
self as “a beautiful mess." Do you still feel 
that way? 


DE MORNAY: [Laughs] Now I'm poetry іп 
motion. 


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PLAYBOY 


CASH AND COMMIES 


(continued from page 124) 


“You were the inspiration for Bobbi Beer, the noxious, 
oily beverage brewed at the former tank-fuel refinery.” 


this letter in the hope of contacting you 
at your dacha or in your Mercedes, 
which I am told serves as your office 
these days for security reasons. 

It is urgent that you address—and 
pel—some rumors about your activities, 
which, if true, would be in violation of 
Peace Corps protocol and international 
law. Specifically: 

(1) That the troubled youth Arkady 
Zipkov is merely a front for your busi- 
ness dealings, which are described as on 
ascale that would make Ross Perot weep 
with envy. 

(2) That V. E. Vyadeslav's sudden co- 
operation in supplying our lights, tele- 
phones and other amenities resulted not 
from “sucking up to the fat little creep,” 
as you memorably described it, but from 
bribes of cash, vodka and women. 


(3) That you not only reneged on our 
agreement to cease the placement of 
Russian females with foreigners seeking 
wives, but proceeded to arrange for the 
unfortunate young ladies to be delivered 
round the clock to the doorsteps of 
clients who dial a telephone number you 
have plastered on every latrine wall and 
telephone pole in Kashlak. 

(4) That you are employing Russian 
military trucks and in some cases heli- 
copters for the above purpose, a benefit 
of your alleged business partnership 
with Major General Vasily M. Sputnicy, 
commander of the Kashlak Regional De- 
fense Forces. 

(5) That you were the inspiration— 
and the distributor—for Bobbi Beer and 
Bobbi Lite, the noxious, oily beverages 
brewed at Konstantin P. Kevrensky's for- 


“Td be on acoustic and 
electric guitar, Homer on percussion, Dutch on 
amplified accordion, Bo on congas, you and Lonnie would 
sing. We'd take six cows with us—wear ripped 
black bib overalls and tour both 
coasts and Japan.” 


mer tank-fuel refinery, which are cur- 
rently reported to be responsible for 74 
percent of the daily admissions to Kash- 
lak Hospital. 

(6) That you are the shadowy figure 
behind the Viva Volgograd Lottery as 
well as the awful TV series its commer- 
cials appear on, Heroes of the KGB. (1 
cannot tell you how appalling I found 
the episode glorifying the alleged at- 
tempt of your repugnant associate Rogov 
to assassinate Margaret Thatcher with a 
poisoned umbrella in 1984.) 

Bobby, it is difficult for me to convey 
the extent of my disappointment, espe 
dally after our many inspiring chats in 
which you passionately expressed the 
desire to “beat out Mother Teresa in the 
sainthood game.” I can only hope that 
you have some plausible explanation for 
these charges. 1 await your response. 

Sadly, 
Peabody Phelps 


June 15, 1993 
From: Peabody Phelps 
‘To: President Boris Yeltsin, 
The Kremlin, Moscow 
Dear Mr. President: 

Please accept my heartfelt condo- 
lences over the unexpected power out- 
age in Kashlak. I assure you, however, 
that despite your vigorous protestations, 
neither I nor any other official of the 
government bears any cul- 
unfortunate incident. 
Until receiving your rather forceful 
telephone call earlier today—which, as 
you may recall, afforded me scant op- 
portunity to interject a response—I was 
unaware that the Shepalov Nuclear Pow- 
er Plant had been dismantled “in the 
dark of night” and its reactor compo- 
nents shipped to Libya. 1 must add, how- 
ever, that it fails to surprise me as, these 
days, nearly everything in the country 
seems to be for sale. 

In regard to your inquiries concern- 
ing Robert Greenway, this individual is 
no longer connected to the Peace Corps 
in any capacity, and thus I have no con- 
trol over his activities. Because of the 
confused climate that prevails here 
at present, I am hard-pressed to think 
of anyone in either of our countries 
who might. 

While I regret that 1 cannot be of 
more help in this matter, I should like to 
take this opportunity to extend to you 
my invitation to visit Our training center 
to see for yourself the great progress the 
Реасе Corps is making in helping the 
new Russian entrepreneur stride for- 
ward to a better tomorrow. 

Sincerely, 
Peabody Phelps 


PEACE CORPS FAX 
From: Peabody Phelps, Associate Admin- 
istrator, Project Golden Bear 


Чо: Wendell L. Kirk, PC Assistant 
Deputy Director, Washington 

3 August 93 

Dear Mr. Kirk: 

Perhaps you are correct in your blunt 
assessment that we temporarily went 
“fucking nuts” here. Nonctheless, the 
abrupt reassignment of your predeces- 
sor, R. Staunton Tibbett, Jr, to Green- 
land and the decision to force me into 
carly retirement seem so harsh as to bor- 

scapegoating. 

hile it is undeniable that our gov- 
ernment has been embarrassed, the 
oblem originated in the actions of one 
individual who is no longer with us. Fur- 
thermore, it is difficult to convey ade- 
quately to outsiders the chaotic Wild 
West environment of today’s Russia. In- 
deed, that allusion is overly tame; a 
more apt comparison would be to Wall 
Street in the Eighties. In this context, 
Bobby Greenway could be said to have 
carried creative entrepreneurship to its 
logical culmination. Moreover, despite 
some bending of rules, his Greenway In- 
dustries Ltd. is providing employment 
for thousands of Russian citizens. 

‘Thanks to an unexpected visit from 
Greenway yesterday, I am able to com- 
ply—despite my imminent departure 
from this great but troubled nation— 
with your request for an update on his 
activities. In fact, Bobby took me for a 
tour of what you characterize as his “ош- 
law empire,” and frankly, despite my 
considerable reservations as to his un- 
conventional methods, I could not help 
but be impressed. 

Setting out in his specially equipped 
stretch Mercedes (for security reasons, 
Bobby travels with 75 bodyguards in a 
15-vehicle convoy escorted by a heli- 
copter gunship), we passed scores of his 
casinos, nightclubs, hotels, Cadillac deal- 
erships, Bobbi G's Fried Chicken & Ви 
Shack franchises (under the now-famil- 
iar giant golden samovar) and the luxu- 
rious new Parvenu Millionaire’s Club he 
has established for the more prosperous 
biznesmieny in the former Kashlak Com- 
munist Party headquarters. We also visit- 
ed the offices of Private Eye on High, 
which uses satellites leased from Glav- 
kosmos, the Russian space agency, to 
take photos for clients who suspect their 
spouses of adultery. (A set of six costs 
$3000, but the quality is superb.) 

The highlight of the tour, however, 
was Bobby’s proudest new domain, War 
World, 

Situated on the site of what was once a 
vast army base just north of the city, this 
project represents, according to Bobby, 
“a new concept in theme-park entertain- 
ment: interactive military sports.” For- 
get Euro Disncy. Enthusiastic crowds 
swarmed to such concessions as Ride a 
Wild Missile Downrange, Paratrooper 
Bungee Jump and the Afghan Armor 
‘Trail, where patrons drive real tanks 
through Mujahedeen ambushes. (“Hell, 


it can't hurt anyone,” Bobby explained 
to me when I expressed concern about 
safety standards. “That old primo Soviet 
armor stops a fifty-caliber bullet cold.") I 
did tell Bobby in the strongest terms that 
Katya the KGB Dominatrix and Her 
Dungeon of 100 Sublime Torments had 
no place in a family-park atmosphere. 
Much to his credit, he is considering 
moving it to the Parvenu Club. 2 
I'm afraid that this brief recap of my 

tour will have to suffice as I must begin 
packing now. In closing, 1 can only hope 
that my successor receives the support 
from his or her superiors that I, regret- 
tably, found lacking, 

Sincerely, 

Pcabody Phelps 


September 9, 1993 
Dear Pam: 

Momentous doings afoot. Perhaps 
you've heard from your mother (yes, we 
still communicate now and then) of my 
last-minute decision to stay on here. My 
motives were complex, but the catalyst 
was undoubtedly a surprising offer from 
Robert Greenway (see the current issue 
of Time: "Russia's First Rockefeller Is a 
Yankee-Doodle Jailbird") to head up the 
press-communications office in his cam- 
paign for mayor of Kashlak. 

Though there is some opposition, un- 
derstandably, to a non-Russian-speak- 
ing. Johnny-come-lately ex-convict with 
no political experience, polls show 63 
percent of the electorate behind him. 

Apparently, the voters are charmed by 
Bobby's embrace of Russian citizenship 


(he's the only Westerner to defect here 
in 14 years) and his refreshing Ameri- 
can-style campaign tactics. Taking а lcaf 
from Perot, who asked citizens for small 
contributions, Bobby is giving 200 rubles 
to cach supporter, proclaiming: “I'm the 
only politician who keeps his promises— 
before the election,” Every night at cight 
o'clock, he turns up unannounced at the 
door of a randomly chosen family, ac- 
companied by a TV crew. After toasting 
the surprised hosts with vodka and 
showering them with lavish gifts, he 
stays to field questions about his plat- 
form. The ratings for this exercise in 
electronic-era democracy are phenome- 
ral, and Bobby's slogan— Enough sac- 
rifice already!"—has gripped the popu- 
lar imagination. He is flattered by the 
response, but with characteristic candor 
he told me he views the mayoral job 
merely as a stepping stone to what he 
calls, vaguely, “higher office.” 

What I have come to realize in my 
brief association with this remarkable 
human being is that he is tragically mis- 
understood. A long time ago, 1 joined 
the Peace Corps hoping to effect change. 
Well, Bobby Greenway changes things 
faster than anyone Гуе ever encoun- 
tered. Just yesterday he said to me, 
“Hey, Marx and Lenin thought they 
were revolutionaries? Just keep an eye 
оп me, pal.” 

These, my dear Pam, were words spo- 
ken by a true visionary and, I'm proud 
to say, a true friend. 

Love, 
Dad 


“Thank you, but I'm already in a very safe, monogamous 
relationship. I masturbate." 


151 


PLAYBOY 


DEATH in BANGKOK 


(continued from page 78) 


"Between feeding из bites and. sips, they cooed and 
ran long-nailed fingers up the insides of our thighs." 


"You from States?" she asks, a bit of 
animation coming into her dark eyes. “1 
like States very much." 

I brush her long hair out of her eyes 
and sip my beer. "If you're a bird," I say, 
“are you a khai long?" The phrase means 
"little lost chicken” but is often applied to 
street girls in Bangkok. 

Nok pulls her head back and folds her 
arms as if I have slapped her. She starts 
to turn away but I grip her thin arm and 
pull her back against me. “Finish your 
whiskey," I say. 

Nok pouts but sips the tea. We watch 
her friend on the stage as the girl's hair- 
less vulva rotates our way again. The cig- 
arette has burned down to the exposed 
labia. Sipping my beer, I marvel not for 
the first time—at how human beings can 
turn the most intimate sights into the 
most grotesque. At the last second before 
the cigarette would burn her, the girl 
reaches down, retrieves it, takes a drag 

it with the appropriate lips, tosse: 

between the stage and the bar and wrig- 
gles out of her yoga backbend. Only one 
or two of the men along the bar applaud. 
The girl bounces offstage and an older 
"Thai woman, also naked, steps onto the 
revolving platform, squats and fans four 
double-edged razor blades for the audi- 
ence's approval. 

I turn back to Nok. "I'm sorry I hurt 
your feelings,” I say. "You are a very 
preuy bird. Would you like to help me 
have fun tonight?" 

Nok forces a smile. “I love to make 
you fun tonight” She pretends to frown 
as if she had just thought of something. 
“But Mr. Diang”—she nods toward a 
thin Thai man with dyed red hair who 
stands in the shadows—“he be very mad 
at Nok if Nok not work all shift. Him I 
must pay if I go to make fun.” 


I nod and take out the thick roll of 
baht I had changed dollars for at the air- 
port. "I understand,” I say, peeling off 
four 500 baht bills—almost $80. Even 
the highest-class bar whores in Bangkok 
used to charge only 200 or 300 baht, but. 
the government ruined that a few years 
ago by bringing out a 500-baht note. It 
seemed cheap to ask for change, so now 
most girls charge 500 for the act, with 
another 500 to pay their Mr. Diangs. 

She glances toward the old man with 
red hair and he nods ever so slightly. 
Nok smiles at me. "Yes, I have place for 
much fun." 

I pull the money back. “I thought we 
might try to find someone to have fun 
with,” I say over the blasting rock and 
roll. In the corner of my vision I can see 
the woman onstage inserting the blades. 

Nok makes a face. Sharing the eve- 
ning with other girls will cut down on 
her profit. “Sakha bue din,” she says soft- 
ly. I smile quizzically and ask, “What 
does that mean?” 

“It means you have enough fun just 
with Nok, who love you very much,” she 
says, smiling again. 

‘Actually, the phrase is short for a 
northern village saying that goes “Your 
cock is on the ground, I tread on it like a 
snake.” I smile my appreciation at her 
kindness. 

“This money would be just for you, of 
course,” 1 say, setting the 2000 baht clos- 
er to her hand. “There would be more if 
we find exactly the right girl.” 

Smiling more broadly now, Nok 
squints at me. “You have girl in mind? 
Someone you know or someone I find? 
Good friend who also love you much?” 

“Someone I know of,” 1 say, taking a 
breath, “Have you heard of a woman 


named Mara? Or perhaps her daughter, 
Tanha?” 

Nok freezes and for an instant she is a 
bird—a frightened, captured bird. She 
tries to pull away but I still hold her arm. 

“Na!” she cries in a little girl's voice. 
“Na, na—" 

"There's more moncy,” | begin, slid- 
ing the baht toward her. 

“Na!” cries Nok, tears in her eyes. 

Mr. Diang takes a quick step forward 
and nods to two huge Thai near the 
door. The men cut through the crowd 
toward us like sharks through shallow 
water. 

1 let go of Nok's arm and she slips 
away through the crowd. I hold both 
hands up, palms out, and the bouncers 
stop five paces from me. The old man 
with the red hair tilts his head toward 
the door and I nod my willingness to go. 

There are other places on my list 
Someone's love of money will be greater 
than their fear of Mara. Perhaps. 


‘Twenty-two years earlier, Patpong had 
existed but American grunts could not 
afford it. The Thai government and the 
U.S. Army had cobbled together a 
red-light district of cheap bars, chcap- 
er hotels and massage parlors on New 
Petchburi Road, miles from the more 
businesslike Patpong. 

During the first day and night in 
Bangkok with Tres, I discovered what a 
no-hands bar was. The food was lousy 
and the booze was overpriced, but the 
novelty of having the girls feed us and 
lift the glasses to our lips was memo- 
rable. Between feeding us bites and sips, 
they cooed and winked and ran long- 
nailed fingers up the insides of our 
thighs. It was hard to reconcile all of this 
with the fact that 24 hours earlier we had 
been humping our rucks up the гед-Чау 
jungle hillsides of the A Shau Valley. 

Atany rate, we drank and whored our 
way through the red-light district for 48 
hours. Tres and I had taken separate 
rooms so that we could bring back girls, 
and this we did. The cost then for an 
evening of sexual favors was less than 
what I would have paid for a case of cold 
beer from the fire-base PX—and that 
wasn't much, A Tshirt or a pair of jeans 
given to our little girls would pay for a 
week's worth of mia chaos, or "hired 
wives" They'd not only screw or give 
head on command but also wash our 
clothes and tidy up the hotel rooms 
while we were out looking for other girls. 

You have to remember that this was in 
1970. AIDS wasn't even dreamed of 
then. Oh, the Army had made us take 
rubbers along and watch half a dozen 
films warning us about venereal dis- 
cases, but the biggest threat to our 
health was Saigon Rose, a tough strain of 
syphilis brought into the country by GIs. 
Still and alll, our girls were so young and 


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stupid, 1 realize now, that they didn't 
even ask us to wear rubbers, Perhaps 
they thought that having a child by a 
farang was good luck or would somehow 
miraculously get them to the States, I 
don't know. I didn't ask. 

But four days into our seven days of 
R&R, cven the attraction of cheap Thai 
marijuana and cheaper sex was paling a 
bit. | was doing it because Tres was doing 
in, following his lead had become a form 
of survival for me in the boonies. 

But Tres wanted something else. And 
I followed. 

“Гуе found out about something 
cool," he said early on the evening of our 
fourth night in the city. "Really cool.” 

1 nodded. Tang, my little mia chao, had 
been pouting that she wanted to go out 
to dinner, but Fd ignored her and gone 
down to meet Tres in the bar when he 
called. 

"It's going to take some money,” said 
Tres. “How much do you have’ 

I fumbled in my wallet. Tang and 1 
had been smoking some Thai sticks in 
the room, and things were a bit lumines- 
cent and off-center for me. “Couple 
hundred baht,” I said. 

Tres shook his head. “This is going to 
take dollars,” he said. “Maybe four or 
five hundred.” 

І goggled at him. We hadn't spent a 
fraction of that during our entire R&R 
so far. Nothing in Bangkok cost more 
than a couple of bucks. 

“This is special,” he said. “Really spe- 
cial. Didn't you tell me that you were 
bringing along the three hundred bucks 
your uncle sent you?” 

I nodded dumbly The money was 
stuffed in a sneaker in the bottom of my 
duffel upstairs. “I wanted to buy my ma 
something special,” | said. К or a ki- 
mono or something 1 trailed off 
lamely. Tres smiled. "You'll like this bet- 
ter than a kimono for your mom. Get the 
money. Hurry." 

I hurried. When I got downs 
there was a young Thai man waiting at 
the door with Tres. “Johnny,” Tres said, 
“this is Maladung. Maladung, this is 
Johnny Merrick. We call him the Prick in 
the platoon.” 

Maladung smirked ar me. 

Before I could explain that a PRC 
radio was called a prick-25 and that I'd 
humped it around for a month and a 
half before they found a bigger RTO, 
Maladung had nodded at us and led the 
way out into the night. We took a tuk-tuk 
down to the river, Technically, the broad 
er that flowed all the way from the 
Himalayas to bisect the heart of old 
Bangkok was called the Chao Phraya, 
butall I ever heard the locals call it was 
Mae Nam, or “the River.” 

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something and Tres said, “Give me a 
hundred-baht note, Johnny.” 

Tres paid Maladung, who waved us in. 
to the bow of the narrow boat. I know 
now that these small boats are called 
“long-tailed taxis" and are for hire by the 
hundreds. They get their name from the 


long propeller shaft that has a full-sized 
automobile engine mounted on it. I no- 
ticed that night that the shaft was so well 
counterbalanced that our driver could 
lift the prop out of the water with one 
hand, the heavy engine seemingly 
weightless in the center, 

Bangkok is a city of small canals, or 
Klongs. We headed downriver past the 
lights of the Oriental Hotel, a place Tres 
and 1 had heard of but could never 
dream of affording, and passed under a 
busy highway bridge. Our long-tailed 
taxi darted in front of a huge ferry with 
a roar of its V6 engine, crossed toward 
the west bank and then turned into а 
klong no wider than one of the narrow 
seis in the Patpong district. The Іше 
canal was pitch dark except for the weak 
glow of lantern light from the tied-up 
sampans and the overhanging shacks 
Our driver had lighted his own red 
lantern and hung it from a stanchion 
near the stern, but 1 had no idea how 
other boats avoided colliding with us as 
we roared around blind turns and under 
low bridges. Sometimes I was sure that 
the canvas roof of our taxi was going to 
hit the underside of the sagging bridges, 
but even as Tres and I ducked we 
cleared the rotting ümbers with inches 
to spare. The few other water taxis 
roared past us like noisy wraiths, their 
wakes slapping across our bow and 
splashing our knees. I looked at Ires as 
we passed a dimly lighted sampan, and 
his eyes were wild. He was grinning 
broadly. 

For half an hour or more we twisted 
our way through these narrow one-way 
klongs. The stink of sewage was so strong 
that my eyes watered. Several times 1 
heard voices coming from the lightless 
and listing sampans that lined the canal 
like so many waterlogged wrecks. 

“People live in those," I whispered to 
Tres as we passed a blackened mass 
where tumbledown shacks and half- 
sunken sampans had narrowed the klong 
to the point that our suicidal driver had 
bcen forced to slow the boat to a crawl. 
Tres did not answer. 

Just when I was sure that the driver 
had become lost in the maze of canals, 
we came into an open area of water 
bounded by abandoned warehouses on 
stilts and the backs of burned-out shacks. 
The effect was of a large floating court- 
yard hidden from the city’s streets and 
public cai Several barges and black 
sampans were tied up in the center of 
this watery square, and I could see the 
dim running lanterns of several other 
long-tailed taxis that were tied up to the 
nearest sampan 


The driver cut the engine and we glid- 
ed to the makeshift dock in a silence so 
sudden that it made my ears ache 

I had just realized that the dock was 
only a float made of oil drums and 
planks lashed to the sampan when two 
men stepped out through a ragged hole 
in the canvas side of the boat and stood 
balancing on the planks, watching us 
bump toa stop. Even in the dark I could 
tell that they were built like wrestlers or 
bouncers. The closer of the two barked 
something at us in Thai. 

Maladung answered and one of them 
took our bowline while the other stood 
aside to let us climb onto the small space. 
1 stepped off the taxi first, saw a faint 
glow of lantern light through the ragged 
opening and was about to step through 
when one of the men touched my chest 
with three fingers that seemed stronger 
than my entire arm. 

Must pay first,” hissed Maladung 
from his place on the taxi 

Pay for what? 1 wanted to ask, but Tres 
leaned close and whispered, “Give me 
your three hundred bucks, Johnny.” 

My uncle had sent me the money in 
crisp fifties. I gave them to Tres, who 
handed two bills to Maladung and the 
other four to the closest man on the 
dock 

The men stepped aside and gestured 
me toward the opening. I had just bent 
to fit through the low doorway when 1 
was startled by the sound of our boat's 
engine roaring to life. I straightened up 
in time to see the red lantern disappear- 
ing down a narrow klong. 

“Shit,” I said. “Now how do we get 
back?” 

Tres's voice was tight with something 
greater than tension. "We'll worry about 
that later,” he said. “Go on.” 

I looked at the ragged doorway that 
seemed to open to a corridor connecting 
the series of sampans and barges. Strong 
smells came from it and there was a mut- 
ed sound like a large animal breathing 
somewhere at the end of that tunnel. 

“Do we really want to do this?" I whis- 
pered to Tres. The two Thai men on the. 
dock were as inanimate as those statues 
of Chinese lion-dogs that guard the en- 
trances to important buildings through- 
out Asia. “Tres?” I said. 

“Yes,” he said. “Come on." He pushed 
past me and squeezed through the open- 
ing. Used to following his lead on patrol 
and night ambush and LRRB I lowered. 
my head and followed. 


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passion, but their bodies are expert at 
revealing their coupling to every corner 
of the bar. The audience seems to find 
the primary tension not in the fucking 
but in the chance that the two might fall 
off the suspended motorcycles. 

I am ignoring the show, interrogating 
a bar girl named Lah, when the Thai 
shove in around me. Lah fades into the 
crowd. It is dark in the bar, but the four 
men wear sunglasses. I take a sip of flat 
beerand say nothing as they press closer. 

“You are named Merrick?” asks the 
shortest. His face is ax-blade thin and 
is pockmarked with acne or small- 
Pox scars. 

I nod. 

The pockmarked man takes а step 
closer. “You have been asking about а 
woman named Mara?" 

“Yes.” 

“Come,” he says. 1 make no resistance 
and the five of us move out of the bar 
a flying wedge. Outside, a gap opens a 
bit between the burly men on my lefi, 
and 1 can make a run for it if I choose. I 
do not so choose, A dark limousine is 
parked at the head of the lane, and the 
man on my right opens the rear door. As 
he does, I see the pearl-handled grip of 
a revolver tucked into his waistband. 

I get in the backseat. The two tallest 
men sit on either side of me. 1 watch as 
the pockmarked man moves to the front 
passenger seat and the man with the re- 
volver settles himself behind the wheel. 
The limo moves off through side streets. 
І know that it is sometime after three 
A.M., but the sois are still strangely empty 
this close to Patpong. At first I can tell we 
are moving north, parallel to the river, 
but then I lose all sense of direction in 
the maze of narrow side streets. Only the 
darkened signs in Chinese let me know 
that we're in the area north of Patpong 
known as Chinatown. 

‘Avoid Sanam Luang and Ratcha- 
damnoen Klang," the pockmarked man 
Says to the driver in Thai. “The army is 
shooting protesters tonight.” 

L glance to my right and see the or- 
ange glow of flames above rooftops. The 
distant, almost soft raule and pop of 
small-arms fire can be heard over the 
hiss of the car's air conditioner. 

We stop in an area of abandoned 
buildings. There are no streetlights here 
and only the orange glow of flames 
reflected from low clouds allows me to 
see where the street ends in vacant lots 
and half-demolished warehouses. I can 
smell the river somewhere out there in 
the darkness. 

The pockmarked man turns and nods. 
The Thai on my right opens the door 
and pulls me out by my vest. The driver 
stays in the car while the other three 
drag me deep into the shadows near 
the river. 

1 start to speak just as the man behind 
me laces his fingers through my hair and 
pulls my head sharply back. The third 


man grabs my arms as the man holding 
my hair lifis a stiletto blade to my throat. 
The pockmarked face suddenly looms so 
dose that I can smell fish and beer on 
the man's breath 

“Why do you ask about a woman 
named Mara with a daughter named 
Tanha?” he asks in Thai. 

1 blink my incomprehension, The 
blade draws blood just below my Adam's 
apple. My head is pulled so far back tl 
1 find it almost impossible to breathe. 

"Why do you ask about a woman 
named Mara with a daughter named 
Tanha?” he asks again in English. 

My words are little more than a rasp: 
ing gargle. “I have something for them. 
I try to free my right hand but the third 
man restrains my wrist. 

"Inside left pocket," I manage. 

The pockmarked man hesitates only a 
second before tearing open my vest and 
feeling for the hidden pocket there. He 
brings out 20 bills. 

I can smell his breath on my face again 
as he laughs sofily. “Twenty thousand 
dollars? Mara does not need twenty 
thousand dollars. There is no Mara,” he 
concludes in English. In Thai, he says to 
the тап with the knife, ll him.” 

They have done this before. The first 
man bends my head farther back, the 
other man pulls my arms down sharply 
while the pockmarked man steps back, 
fastidiously getting out of the way of the 
terial spray that is coming. In that sec- 
ond before the knife slashes my throat, I 
gasp out two words. “Look again. 

I feel the tension increase in the knife 
wielder's hand and arm as the blade cuts 
deeper, but the pockmarked man holds 
up one hand in command. The blade 
has drawn enough blood to soak the col- 
lar of my shirt and vest, but it goes no 
deeper. The short man holds a bill high. 
squints at it in the dim light and then 
flicks a cigarette lighter into flame. He 
mutters under his breath 
What?" says the third man in Thai. 

The pockmarked man answers in 
the same language. “It is a ten-thou- 
sand-dollar bearer's bond. They are all 
ten-thousand-dollar bonds. Twenty of 
them 

The other two hiss their breath 

“There is more,” I say in Thai. 
more, But I must see Mara.” 

We stand there motionless for at least 
a full minute before the pockmarked 
man grunts something, the blade is low- 
егей, my hair is released and we walk 
back to the waiting limousine. 


“Much 


1 followed Tres through the tunnel 
carved through the arched canvas roofs 
of sampans. 

Several Thai men glanced at us as we 
stepped into the covered barge, and 
then they looked again, obviously sur- 
prised that farang were allowed there. 


But then their attention was drawn back 
to the makeshift stage in the center of 
the barge. I stood there blinking, peer- 
ing through the heavy cloud of cigarette 
and marijuana smoke. The stage was no 
more than 6x4, illuminated only by two 
hissing lanterns hanging from overhead 
trusses, It was empty except for two 
women performing cunnilingus on each 
other. Crude benches ran four deep 
around the stage and the 20 or so Thai 
men there were little more than dark 
shapes in the haze of smoke, 

"What—— I began, but Tres hushed 
me and led the way to an empty bench to 
our left. The women on the stage were 
joined by two thin Thai men, boys, actu- 
ally, who ignored the females as they ca- 
ressed each other into an excited state. 

1 was ured of being hushed. I leaned 
closer to Ires and said, "Why the hell did 
we have to pay 300 American dollars for 
this when we can watch it fora couple of 


bucks in any bar on New Petchburi 
Road?" 
Tres just shook his head. “This is just 


the preliminary stuff, Johnny,” he whis- 
pered. “Warm-up acts. We paid for the 
main event.” 

A couple of men in front of us had 
turned and frowned, as if we were mak- 
ing too much noise in a movie theater. 
On the stage, the two boys had finished 
their preparations and had become in- 
volved with the young women as well as 
with each other. The combinations were 
complicated. 

I sat and crossed my legs. We didn't 
wear underwear in Nam because it 
caused crotch rot, and like a lot of grunts 
Га gotten out of the habit of wearing it 
even while in civilian clothes on R&R. I 
wished I'd pulled on some shorts under 
my light couon slacks that night. It 
seemed bad form to have a visible hard- 
on around all these other men. 

The four young people on the stage 
explored combinations for another ten 
minutes or so. When they came—almost 
atonce—the women might have faked it, 
but there was no doubt that the men's 
orgasms were sincere. One of the Th: 
girls caught some semen on her brea: 
while the other girl spread the second 
boy’s jism on the buttocks of the first boy 
The bisexual stuff disturbed me and e: 
cited me at the same time. | didn't un- 
derstand myself well then. 

Finished, the four young people sim- 
stood and exited through a tunnel 
n the far wall. The patrons did not 
applaud. The stage was empty for seve 
al minutes, but then a short Thai man 
dressed in a black silk shirt and trousers 
stepped onto the stage and said some- 
thing in low, serious tones. I caught the 
word Mara twice. There was a sudden 
tension in the room 

“What did he —" I began. 

“Shhh,” said Tres, his eyes riveted on 
the stage 

“Fuck that,” 


I said, Га paid for this 


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crap, I deserved to know what I was get- 
ting for my money. "What's a Mara?" 

Tres sighed. "Mara is phanyaa mahn, 
Johnny. The prince of demons. He sent 
his three daughters—Aradi, discontent; 
Tanha, desire; and Raka, love—to tempt 
the Buddha. But the Buddha won." 

I squinted through smoke at the emp- 
ty stage and slowly swinging lantern. "So 
Mara's a man?" 

"Ires shook his head. "Not when the 
spirit of the phanyaa тайт combines with 
the naga in a demon-human incarna- 
tion," he said. 

I stared at "res. We'd each smoked 
some good shit since we arrived in 
Bangkok—the Thai stick was almost free 
here—but Tres had obviously been do- 
ing more than was good for him. He 
noticed my stare and smiled slightly. 
“Mara's the part of the world that dies, 
Johnny . . . the death principle. The 
thing we fear more than Charlie when 
we're out on night patrol, Naga is sort of 
asnake god that's associated with water. 
The river. It can take or give life. When 
the spirit of the naga is given to someone 
possessed by the power of the phanyaa 
mahn—Mara—the demon thing can be 
male or female. But what we paid to see 
was a female Mara that’s supposed to be 
фһалуаа mahn naga kio. That doesn't hap- 


pen once in ten thousand incarnations.” 

"What's a kio?” I whispered. I had the 
sinking feeling that I'd blown 300 bucks 
on nothing. 

“Akio isa. . . shhh,” hissed Tres, point- 
ing to the stage. 

A woman came out onto the stage. She 
was dressed in traditional Thai silk and 
was carrying a baby. Her face was sharp, 
almost masculine, and her hair was a 
nimbus of tangled black. She was older 
than the sex performers we had seen 
earlier but still not much more than 20. 
The baby mewled and tugged at the silk 
over the woman's small breasts. 1 real- 
ized that the Thai men in the room were 
bowing slightly from where they sat. 
Some were making the traditional 
palms-together wai of obeisance. It 
seemed an odd thing to be doing toward 
a sex performer. I frowned at Tres but 
he was шайпр, too. I shook my head and 
looked back at the stage. Most of the 
men had put out their cigarettes, but 
there was so much smoke in the barge 
that it was like peering through a fog. 

The woman had gone to her knees on 
the stage. The baby hung limp in her 
arms. The man in black silk came onto 
the stage and said something in low, flat 
tones. 

There was a long silence. Finally, a fat 


OUT OF LEFT FIELD 


"Thai in the front row stood, turned to 
look once at the crowd and then stepped 
onto the stage. There was a gencral ex- 
pulsion of breath, and I could fecl the 
tension in the room shift focus, if not ac- 
tually lessen. 

“What?” I whispered. 

‘Tres shook his head and pointed. The 
fat man was handing over a thick roll of 
baht to the man in black silk. 

As if on cue, the two young women 
we'd seen earlier came back out. They 
were dressed in some sort of ceremonial 
garb that I associated with a formal Thai 
dance I'd seen photos of. Each wore a 
tall, peaked hat, weird shoulders and a 
blouse and pants of gold silk. I began to 
wonder if I'd paid $300 to see four peo- 
ple have sex with their clothes on. 

The two boys came onto the stage 
wearing costumes of their own and car- 
rying an ornate chair. 1 was afraid we 
were going to get into more of the gay 
and lesbian stuff, but the boys merely set 
the chair down and disappeared. The 
two girls began to undress the fat man 
while the woman named Mara stared 
out at nothing, paying no attention to 
the man, his attendants or the crowd. 

Having undressed the patron in an al- 
most ritualistic manner and folded his 
dothes away, the girls pushed him back 
into the chair. I could see sweat beading 
the man’s upper lip and chest. His legs 
appeared to be shaking slightly. If he 
had paid for some sort of erotic service, 
he certainly didn’t seem to be in the 
mood for it. The guy's cock was shriv- 
eled to almost nothing and his scrotum 
looked like it had shrunk to walnut size. 

The girls bent over and began to work 
on him with their hands and mouths. It 
took a while, but they were very good 
and within a few minutes the fat man's 
cock was hard and lifted high enough 
that the glans almost touched his belly. 
Meanwhile, Mara was still staring out at 
nothing, the baby wiggling slightly in 
her arms. The woman seemed disinter- 
ested to the point of catatonia. 

My heart began to pound. I was afraid 
that they were going to do something to 
the baby, and the thought made me 
physically sick. If Tres had known that 
there would be an infant involved- 

I glanced at him but he was looking at 
Mara with an expression of what might 
have been a mixture of fear and scholar- 
ly interest. I shook my head. This was 
weird shit. 

The two girls left. The stage was emp- 
ty except for the seated fat man with his 
modest erection and the woman with 
her child. Slowly Mara turned toward 
him and a wick of the lantern light made 
her eyes gleam almost yellow. It sudden- 
ly seemed too quiet in the barge, as if 
everyone had stopped breathing. 

Mara stood, took three steps toward 
the man and then went to her knees 
again. She was far enough away that she 
had to bend forward just to set her hand 


on his thigh. I noticed that her finger- 
nails were very red and very long. The 
fat man's erection began to visibly Вар at 
that point and I could see his balls rising 
again as if they wanted to hide in the 
protection of his body 

Mara seemed to smile at the sight. She 
leaned forward, still cradling the infant, 
and opened her mouth. 

I expected oral sex then, but her head 
never came closer than 18 inches to the 
man's genitals. Instead, her tongue slid 
out from between sharp and perfectly 
white tecth until it arched to a point 
where it could touch her own chin. The 
fat man's eyes were very wide now, and I 
could see his arms and belly quaking 
slightly. His erection had returned. 

Mara shifted her head, shook it as if 
loosening her neck, and her tongue con- 
tinued to glide out, Six inches of it. Then 
cight. A foot of fleshy tongue sliding out 
of her open mouth like a pink adder un- 
coiling from its dark nest. 

When 18 or 20 inches of thick tongue 
had slid into sight, draped across the fat 
man’s thigh, and begun to wrap itself 
around his cock, I tied to swallow and 
found I could not. I tried to close my 
eyes and found that my eyelids refused 
to dose. Mouth open, breathing harshly, 
1 just watched. 

Mara’s tongue slid around the head of 
the man’s uncircumcised cock, pulling 
down the foreskin as it went. The 
lantern light reflected off the pink moist- 
hess of that tongue and glistened where 
it had lubricated the man’s erection. 

More tongue uncailed, the tip of it spi- 
raling down and around like the prob- 
ing head of a wide-bodied serpent, The 
fat man closed his eyes just as the long 
tongue completely encircled his shaft, 
the narrow tip of that fleshy ribbon 
swaying and bobbing toward his tight- 
ened testicles. Mara’s lashes were also 
lowered, but I could sce the mer of. 
white and yellow under the heavy сус- 
lids as the man's hips began to move. 

The sight of that moist tongue in the 
yellow lantern light was terrible—nause- 
ating—but it was not the worst. The 
worst was the glimpse 1 had caught of 
the lesions on that tongue: openings, ob- 
long slits, in the fleshy inner part of the 
tongue as if someone had taken a very 
sharp scalpel and made a series of blood- 
less, centimeter-long incisions. 

But these were not incisions. Even in 
the weak light I could sec the fleshy 
openings pulse open and close of their 
own volition, like the feeding mouths of 
some hungry anemone surging in a soft 
tidal current. Then the tongue wrapped 
more tightly around the man's straining 
penis, and I could see the almost peri- 
staltic contractions as the ribbon of pink- 
ish Hesh pulled and tightened, tightened 
and pulled. Mara closed her lips, pulled 
her head back like a fisherman with a 
hook deeply embedded, and the fat man 
moaned in ecstasy. He gripped the arms 


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160 


of the chair and pumped his hips more 
wildly, eyes half open but obviously sec- 
ing nothing but the red surge of his own 
pleasure. 

Mara's tongue wrapped in tighter 
coils and continued to tug and flex. The 
fat man's face grew redder as he con 
ued to pump his hips. His eyes were still 
open, but only the whites showed now. 
The head of his cock, just visible in the 
lantern light, seemed engorged to the 
point of bursting. A thick coil of tongue 
slid across it and around it 

The man went into what 1 now know 
are the final stages of ejaculatory re- 
sponse: muscle spasms, loss of voluntary 
control of facial muscles, respiratory 
rates exceeding 40 breaths per minute, 
massive body flush and а frenzied 
pumping of hips. If someone had taken 
his pulse, they would have found his 
heart rate climbing to somewhere be- 
tween 100 and 175 beats per minute. His 
systolic pressure would be shooting ир 
by close to 80mm Hg while his diastolic 
had to be elevated by around 40mm Hg 
or higher. In those days 1 just thought 
of it as coming. 

Mara's head lowered as if she were 
reeling in her extended tongue. Her 
eyes were open now and very yellow. 
Eight or more inches of tongue were still 
wrapped around the man's thrusting 
cock as Mara lowered her red-lipped 
mouth to his groin. 

The Thai man continued to writhe in 
the throes of orgasm. There was not a 
sound from the 20 or so men in the 
smoke-filled room. The man's groans 
were the only noise. His orgasm went on 
and on, far beyond the time it takes for 
any male to ejaculate. Mara's distended 
face rose and fell, and each time it rose 
we could see the tongue wrapped tightly 
around the man's still-rigid member. 

” I whispered. 

i know now that resolution-phase pe- 
nile detumescence is rapid and involun- 
tary. Within seconds of expelling semi- 
nal fluid, the penis begins a two-stage 
involution that begins with loss of about 
50 percent of the erection in the first 30 
seconds. Even when some vasoconges- 
Чоп remains—"keeping a hard-on,” I 
would have called it in my Nam days—it 
is not, cannot be, a full pre-ejaculatory 
erection. 

This Thai still had a full hard-on. We 
could see it every time Mara's mouth lift- 
ed above her coiled tongue. The Thai 
seemed to have succumbed to an epilep- 
uc fit: His legs and arms thrashed wildly, 
his eyes had rolled back in his head, his 
mouth was open and drool ran down his 
chin and jowls. He kept coming and 
coming. Minutes passed—five, ten. 1 
rubbed a hand across my face and my 
palm came away greasy with sweat. Tres 
was breathing through his mouth and 
staring with an expression suggesting 
horroi 

Finally, Mara pulled her mouth away. 


Her tongue unvrapped itself from the 
Thai's cock and slid back between her 
lips as if it were on a tension reel. The 
Thai let out a final groan and slid out of 
the chair; his erect penis was still thrust- 
ing into empty air. 

“Christ Almighty,” I whispered to my- 
self, relieved that it was over. 

It was not over. 

Mara's lips looked swollen, her cheeks 
as puffed out as they had been a second 
before. I had a momentary image of her 
mouth and cheeks filled with the huge, 
coiled tongue and 1 almost lost my lunch 
right there in the smoke-filled darkness. 

Mara pulled her head back farther 
and I noticed that her rouged lips 
seemed to be growing redder, as 
had somehow managed to apply a 
layer of glossy lipstick while performing 
oral sex. Then her mouth opened a bit 
more and the red slid down off her lips, 
dribbled across her chin and spilled onto 
her gold silk blouse. 

Blood. 1 realized that her cheeks and 
mouth were filled with blood; her ob- 
scene tongue was gorged with blood. She 
choked it back and something like a 
smile filled her sharp features. 

1 fought back the nausea, lowered my 
head and thought: H's over now. It’s over. 

It was not over. 

"The baby had been cradled in her left 
arm during the endless fellatio, hidden 
from sight by Mara's head and the fat 
man’s thigh. But now the infant was visi- 
ble as its small arms clawed at Mara's 
blood-spattered blouse. Even as the 
woman arched her head farther back, as 
if sloshing the blood around in her 
mouth like a fine wine, the baby began 
pulling itself up her chest with its tiny 
fists sunken in gold silk, йз mewling 
mouth pursing and opening. 

I locked at Tres, found myself unable 
10 speak and looked back at the stage. 
‘The Thai boys had carried the still-un- 
conscious fat man off the stage and only 
Mara and her infant remained in the 
lantern light. The baby continued climb- 
ing until its cheek touched its mother's. I 
thought of a film I had seen of a tiny 
kangaroo baby, half-formed and almost 
embryonic, pulling itself through its 
mother's fur in the live-or-die trek from 
the birth canal to the pouch. 

The baby began licking its mother's 
cheek and mouth. I saw how long the ba- 
by's tongue was, how it slid like some 
pink worm across Mara's chin and lips, 
and I tried to close my eyes or look away. 
1 could not. 

Mara seemed to come out of her 
trance, lifted the baby closer to her face 
and lowered her mouth to the infant's. 1 
could see the baby girl open her mouth 
wide, then wider, and I thought of baby 
birds demanding to be fed. 

Mara vomited blood into the baby's 
open mouth. 1 could see the infants 
cheeks fill and its throat work as it tried 
to swallow the sudden onslaught of thick 


liquid. The process was amazingly neat; 
very little oFthe heavy blood spilled onto 
the baby's gold robes or Mara's silk 

Spots danced in my vision and I low- 
ered my head to my hands. The room 
was suddenly very hot and my vision 
tunneled to a narrow range. The skin of 
my forehead felt clammy. Next to me, 
Tres made a noise but did not look away 
from the stage. 

When I looked up, the baby was al- 
most finished feeding. I could see its 
long tongue licking at Mara's lips and 
cheeks for any residue of the regurgitat- 
ed meal. 

Years later I stumbled across a Scien- 
fic American article titled "Food Sharing 
in Vampire Bats” dealing with reciprocal 
altruism in donor bats’ regurgitation of 
blood for roostmates. Vampire bats, it 
seems, starve to death if they do not get 
a meal consisting of 20 to 30 milliliters of 
blood every 60 hours. It turns out that 
after the proper stimulus—the roost- 
mates’ licking under the donor bat's 
wings and on its lips—the donor regur- 
gitates blood only for those roostmates 
who would die within 24 hours without a 
blood meal. This reciprocal-exchange 
system is survival beneficent, said the ar- 
ticle’s author, because it allows the recip- 
ient bat another night to search for 
blood, while drawing only 12 hours 
worth of blood from the donor bats 
reservoir. 

But ir was that Scientific American draw- 
ing of the smaller Багз licking its donor's 
lips, leathery wings entwined, slash- 
lipped mouths moving toward each oth- 
er in the blood-vomit kiss, that made me 
vomit into my office wastebasket 20 years 
after that night in Bangkok. 

1 remember dragging Tres from that 
place and have vague memories of press- 
ing a roll of baht into the hands of the 
driver of a long-tailed taxi on the pier 
outside. I remember going alone to my 
room and locking the door. Tang, my 
mia chao, had disappeared, and for that 
I was grateful. I remember staring at 
the slowly turning fan in the hour be- 
fore sunrise and giggling as I worked 
out a simple translation. Unlike Tres, 1 
had never been good at languages, but 
this translation was suddenly obyious. 
Phanyaa mahn naga kio. 16 phanyaa mahn 
was Mara, the prince of demons, and if 
naga was the serpent-demon, then kio 
could mean only one thing: vampire. 

I giggled and waited for the sun to rise 
so I could sleep. 


The city is still burning, and I can hear 
isolated automatic-weapons fire from 
the government troops killing students 
as the four men take me to Mara. The 
limousine crosses the river, moves south 
along the bank opposite the Oriental 
Hotel and stops at ап unfinished high 
rise near a highway bridge. The pock- 
marked man leads us to an outside 


PLAYBOY 


162 


construction elevator, throws a switch 
and we rumble up into the nightair. The 
elevator has no sides, and 1 see the river 
and the city across the river with dream- 
like clarity as we rise 30 stories and more 
into the thick night air. The river is as 
empty of trafficas I have ever seen it; on- 
ly a few ferries fight the dark current 
downriver. Upriver, toward the Grand 
Palace and the university, flames light up 
the night. 

We reach one of the top levels and the 
crude elevator squeals to a stop. A gate 
slides up and the pockmarked man 
beckons me out. Somewhere above us a 
welding torch flashes, strobes and drips 
sparks. Construction does not stop for 
sleep in modern Bangkok. The building 
has no sides, only clear plastic draped 
from open beams to separate sections of 
the cement expanse from onc another, A 
hot wind rustles the plastic with a sound 
not unlike the stirring of leathery wings. 

Trouble lights hang from girders and 
more lights are visible through walls of 
plastic to our left. The five of us walk to- 
ward the light and sound. At the en- 
trance—a sort of tunnel made from 
rustling plastic sheets—the three body- 
guards stay behind while the pock- 
marked man lifts the plastic, beckons me 
forward and follows me in. 

A dozen or so folding chairs are set up 
around an open area where an expen- 
sive Persian rug has been laid on the 
dusty cement floor. The lamp overhead 
15 shielded so that the space is more in 
shadow than direct light. Six men, all 
Thai and all in sleek tuxedos, sit on the 
folding chairs, but I have eyes only for 
the two women sitting across the open 
space in heavy rattan chairs. The older 
woman might be my age or a little older; 
she has aged well. Her hair is still black, 
but now swept up in a fashionable arc. 
Her Asian features are unlined, her 
cheeks and chin still strong, and only a 
certain corded look in her neck and 
hands suggests that she isin her 40s. She 


wears an obviously expensive gown of 
black and red silk; a gold-and-diamond 
pendant hangs across her red vest and 
stands out against the black silk blouse. 

The younger woman next to her is 
infinitely more beautiful. Olive-skinned, 
dark-eyed, with lustrous hair that has 
been cut short in the newest Western 
style, gifted with a long neck and hands 
that exude grace even in repose, this 
young woman is beautiful in a way that 
no actress or model could ever achieve. 
It is obvious that she is simultaneous- 
ly aware of and oblivious to her own 
beauty. 

I know that I am looking at Mara and 
her daughter, Tanha. 

The pockmarked man steps closer to 
them, gocs to his knees in the way that 
the Thai do to show deference to royalty, 
performs an elaborate wai and then of- 
fers Mara my roll of 20 bonds without 
lifting his bowed head. She speaks softly 
and he answers respectfully. 

Mara sets the money aside and looks 
at me. Her eyes catch the yellow gleam 
of the shielded lamp above. 

The pockmarked man looks up, nods 
me forward and reaches to pull me to 
my knees. I genuflect of my own accord 
before he can grasp my sleeve. I lower 
my head and keep my eyes on Mara's 
slippered feet. 

In elegant Thai, she says, “You know 
what you are asking for?” 

“Yes,” I answer in Thai. My voice is 
firm. 

Mara purses her lips. “If you know 
about me,” she says very sofily, “then 
you must know that I no longer perform 
this service.” 

“Yes,” I say, head bowed in deference. 

She waits in a silence that I realize isa 
command to speak. “The Reverend Tan- 
ha,” I say at last. 

“Raise your head,” Mara says to me. 
To her daughter she murmurs that I 
have jai ron—the hot heart. 

“Jat bau dee," says Tanha with a soft 


"Gee, and it looked like so much fun in the movie.” 


smile, suggesting that the farang's mind 
is not good. 

“It would cost three hundred thou- 
sand to know my daughter," says Mara. 
There is no hint of negotiation in her 
voice; the price is final 

I nod respectfully, reach into the hid- 
den pocket at the back of my vest and 
remove $100,000 in cash and bear- 
er's bonds. 

One of the bodyguards takes the mon- 
cy and Mara nods slightly. “When do 
you wish this to happen?" she says in liq- 
uid tones. Her eyes show neither bore- 
dom nor interest. 

“Now,” I say. “Tonight” 

The older woman looks at her daugh- 
ter. Tanha's nod is almost imperceptible, 
but there is something in those lustrous 
brown eyes: hunger, perhaps. 

The six men in tuxedos lean forward 
with bright eyes. 


Tres and I met for breakfast in a cheap 
place near the river the next morning. 
Our tones were low, embarrassed, al- 
most like when someone from the pla- 
toon got blown away and no one wanted 
to say his name for a while unless it was 
in the form of a joke. We didn't joke 
about this. 

“Did you sce that guy's cock . .. after?” 
Tres whispered. "It had these . . lesions. 
Like marks 1 saw once when I was a life- 
guard on the Capc and this guy swam in- 
to a jellyfish.” 

I sipped cold coffee and concentrated 
on not shuddering. 

Tres took off his glasses and rubbed 
his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept, 
either. “Johnny, you wanted to be a 
medic. How much blood does the hu- 
man body have in it?” 

“I dunno,” I said. 

He sct his wire-rimmed glasses back in 
place. “I think its about five or six 
liters," he said, “depending upon some- 
one's size." 

1 nodded, not able to picture a liter. 
Years later when they began selling soft 
drinks in liter bottles, I always imagined 
five or six of them filled with blood 
equaling what we carry around in our 
veins every day. 

“Imagine an orgasm where уоште 
ejaculating blood,” whispered Tres. 

1 closed my eyes. 

Tres touched my wrist. "No, think 
about it, Johnny. That guy was still alive 
when they took him out. These guys 
wouldn't pay big bucks for it ifthey knew 
itd kill them." 

Wouldn't they? I thought. It was the 
first time that I realized that someone 
might fuck even if it meant certain 
death. In a way, that revelation in 1970 
prepared me for life in the Ninetics. 

“How much blood could someone lose 
and still stay alive without a transfu- 
sion?” whispered Tres. 1 knew from his 
tone that he wasn’t expecting an answer 


from те, just thinking aloud the way he 
always did when we were planning an 
ambush site. 

I did not know the answer then, but 
Гуе had the opportunity to learn it 
many times since, especially during my 
residency as ап ER. intern. A wounded 
person can lose about a liter of blood vol- 
ume and recover to make it up them- 
selves. With more than about a sixth of 
blood volume gone, so is the victim. 
With transfusions, someone can lose up 
to 40 percent of his blood volume and 
hope to recover. 

1 didn't know any of this then, and 1 
wasn't curious. 1 was busy trying to 
imagine ejaculating blood in an orgasm 
that went on for minutes rather than 
seconds. This time I did shudder. 

Tres waved the waiter over and paid 
the check. "I've got to get going. I need 
to get a cab over to Western Union.” 

“Why?” I said. I was so sleepy that the 
hot, thick air seemed to slur my words. 

“I'm getting some money wired from 
the States,” said Tres. 

1 sat straight up, no longer sleepy. 
“Why?” 

Tres took off his glasses again to polish 
them. His pale eyes looked myopic and 
lost. “I'm going back tonight, Johnny. 1 
don't expect you to come along, but I'm 
going back.” 


The women have finished undressing 
me and the creature named Tanha has 
come closer to caress me when suddenly 
everything stops. Mara has given a 
signal. 

“We have forgotten something,” Mara 
says. It is the first time she has spoken 
English. She makes a graceful but ironic 
gesture. “The times now demand extra 
caution, I am sorry we did not ask for it 
earlier.” She glances at her daughter and 
1 can see the mocking half-smile on both 
of their faces. “I am afraid that we must 
wait until tomorrow night so that the 
proper testing can be done,” sighs Mara, 
switching back to Thai. I can tell that the 
two have played this scene many times 
before. I can only guess that the real rea- 
son is to inflame desire through delay, 
thus driving up the price 

1 also smile. “For the health identity 
card?" J say. “For one of the clinics to 
certify that I am free of HIV?” 

Tanha is sitting gracefully on the Per- 
sian rug near me. Now she shifts in my 
direction, smiles mockingly and makes a 
small moue. "It is regrettable,” she says, 
her voice as delicate as a crystal wind 
chime, "but necessary in these terrible 
times.” 

I nod. I have seen the statistics. The 
AIDS epidemic started late in Thailand, 
but in 1997—less than five years from 
now—150,000 Thai will have died from 
the disease. Three years later, in the year 
2000, 5 million ош of the 56 million 
Thai will be carrying the disease and at 


E 1955. 
y. 


" 1959. 


1962. 


Ф >» 1978: 
\ 
.. 1980. 


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163 


PELAS РИО 


least a million will be dead. After that, 
the logarithmic progression is relentless. 
Thailand —with its lethal combination of 
ubiquitous prostitutes, promiscuous sex- 
ual partners and resistance to con- 
doms—will rival Uganda as a retroviral 
killing ground. 

"You'll send meto one of the local clin- 
ics that do a thousand slapdash HIV 
tests a week," I say calmly, as ГЇ am used 
to sitting naked between two beautiful, 
fully dressed women and an audience of 
strangers in tuxedos. 

Mara opens her slender fingers so that 
the long red nails catch the light. "There 
are few alternatives," she whispers. 

“Perhaps I can provide one," I say and 
reach for my vest where it has been fold- 
ed carefully atop my other clothes. 1 pull 
out three documents and hand them to 
Tanha. The girl frowns prcttily at them 
and gives them to her mother. My guess 
is that the younger woman cannot read 
English, perhaps not even Thai. 

Mara does look over the documents. 
"They are certificates from two major Los 
Angeles hospitals and a university med- 
ical clinic attesting to the fact that my 
blood has been repeatedly tested and 
found free of HIV contamination, Each 
document is signed by several physicians 
and carries the seal of the institution. 
The papers on which they are typed are 
thick, creamy and expensive. Fach docu- 
ment is dated within the past week 

Mara looks at me with narrowed eyes. 
Her smile shows her small, sharp teeth 
and only the faintest hint of tongue. 
“How do we know these are valid?” 

Ishrug. “I am a doctor. I wish to live. 
It would be easier to bribe a Thai clini- 
cian for a health identity card if 1 wished 
to deceive. I have no reason to deceive.” 

Mara glances back at the papers, 
smiles and hands them to me. “1 will 
think about this,” she says. 

1 lean forward in my chair. "I am also 
at risk," I say. 

Mara arches an elegant eyebrow. “Oh, 
how can this be?” 

"Gingival blood,” 1 say in English. 
"Bleeding gums. Any open sore in her 
mouth." 

Mara reacts with a small, mocking 
smile, as if I have made a tiny joke. Tan- 
ha turns her exquisite face toward her 
mother. "What did he say?" she de- 
mands in Thai. “This farang makes no 
sense." 

Mara ignores her. "You have nothing 
to worry about,” she says to me. She 
nods to her daughter. 

Tanha begins caressing me again. 


It was against regulations to take a 
weapon with us on R&R, but there were 
no meral detectors in those days, no air- 
port security to speak of. Quite a few of 
us took knives or handguns with us 


164 when we traveled out of country. Га 


brought a long-barreled .38 that I had 
won in a poker game from a black kid 
named Newport Johnson three days be- 
fore he stepped on a Bouncing Betty. 
When Tres left that second night, 1 got 
the 38 out of the bottom of my duffel, 
checked to make sure it was loaded and 
sat in my locked room wearing nothing 
but fatigue pants, drinking scotch and 
listening to the street noises, watching 
the slow turning of the fan blades above 
my head. 

"Ires returned about four Ам. I lis- 
tened through the wall to his banging 
and crashing around in his bathroom for 
a few minutes and then I went back to 
my bed and closed my eyes. Perhaps now 
I could sleep. His scream brought me up 
and out of bed, the .38 in my hand. T 
tore down the hall in bare feet, banged 
once on his door, pushed it open and 
stepped into the room. 

Only the bathroom light was on and it 
cast a thin strip of fluorescent light 
across the bare floor and tousled bed. 
"There was blood on the floor and a trail 
of torn linen that was also soaked in 
blood. It looked as if Tres had tricd to 
tear up sheets to make bandages. I took 
a step toward the bathroom, heard а 
moan on thc darkness of the bed and. 
swiveled, still holding the .38 at my side. 

“Johnny?” His voice was dry, cracked 
and listless. I stepped closer and turned 
on a small lamp near his bed. 

Tres was naked except for his under- 
shirt, He was sprawled on а blood- 
soaked mattress, surrounded by blood- 
soaked strips of dirty linen, His pants lay 
on the floor nearby, They were black 
with dried blood. Tres’ hands were coy- 
ering his crotch. His fingernails were 
rimmed with blood. 

“Johnny?” he whispered. "It wont 
stop.” 

There’s a leech that breeds in the 
slow-moving waters of Vietnam which 
specializes in boring up the urcthras of 
men wading in the water. Once firmly 
lodged in the penis, the leech begins 
feeding from the inside until it swells to 
half the size of a man's fist. We'd all 
heard about the goddamn thing. We all 
thought about it every time we waded a 
stream or rice paddy, which was about a 
dozen times a day. 

"Ires's cock looked like the leech had 
been at it. No, it was worse. Besides be- 
ing swollen and raw-looking, his penis 
had a series of small lesions spiraling 
around it as if someone had taken a 
sewing machine vith a large needle and 
stitched a row of stigmata down his pri- 
vates. The lesions were bleeding freely. 

"I can't get it to stop,” whispered Tres. 
His face was pale and clammy with 
sweat. l'd seen this look on the faces of. 
wounded guys just before they floated 
away on the tide of shock 

"Come on," I said, getting an arm 
around him, "we're going to a hospital" 

"Ires pulled away and fell back on the 


pillows. “No, no, no. Just get the bleed- 
ing to stop." He pulled something from 
under a pillow and 1 realized that ће was 
holding the black-bladed KA-bar knife 
he used on night patrols. I lifted my 38 
and for a second there was silence bro- 
ken only by the rustle of the fan blades. 

Finally, I giggled. This was nuts. Here 
we were hundreds of miles from Viet- 
nam and the war, me with my sidearm 
and Tres with his commando knife, 
ready to do each other in. This was fuck- 
ing nuts. 

I put down the pistol. “I brought some 
first-aid shit,” I said. “ГИ get it.” 

Tres was sitting up now with the 
bloodied sheet over him. [ handed him 
the bandages and wiped the sweat off his 
face. “I wonder why it won't stop bleed- 
ing,” he said. 

I shook my head. I didn't know then. 1 
know now. 

Vampire bats and some leeches exude 
coagulant: hirudin. The 
n their saliva; the leeches 
manufacture it in their guts and smear it 
on the surface of the wound. It keeps the 
wound from closing and keeps the blood 
flowing freely as long as the bloodsucker 
wants to feed. Vampire bats will “nurse” 
from the neck of а horse or cow for 
hours, often returning with other bats to 
continue the meal. 

‘Tres went to sleep after a while and I 
sat in the sprung chair near the window, 
watching the door and holding the .38 
in my lap. I had thoughts of forcing 
Maladung to take me to Mara again, and 
then shooting him and the woman. And 
the baby, Y mentally added. 

I fell asleep mulling options. When 1 
awoke the room was dark. The fan was 
still turning in its desultory fashion but 
the sounds outside the window had shift- 
ed to their nighttime volume. The bed- 
sheets were soaked with fresh blood, 
there was blood on the floor, the bath- 
room was littered with bloody towels, 
but Tres was gone 

I ran into the hallway and pounded 
down the steps to the lobby before real- 
izing what a sight 1 must be: wild-eyed, 
barefoot and bare-chested, my rumpled 
fatigue pants smeared with blood, the 
long-barreled .38 in my hand. The Thai 
whores and their pimps in the lobby 
barely looked my way. 

I almost caught up to Tres. 1 saw him 
on the same dock we'd departed from 
two nights earlier. The shadowy figure 
with him had to be Maladung. They had 
just stepped down into the long tailed 
taxi as 1 ran onto the dock. The boat 
pulled away with a roar. 

‘Tres saw me. He stood up and almost 
pitched out of the accelerating boat. He 
raised his arm in my direction, fingers 
splayed, as if reaching for me across 50 
feet of open water. 1 heard him shout at 
the driver “Yout! Phuen young mai ma! 
You" which I did not understand then 
but now translate as “Stop! My friend 


WE HEAT UP WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN. 


у © 


ON wud 
BT ee 


1993 Playboy. Al Rights Reserved 


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hasn't come yet! Stop!" 

Tsaw Maladung pull him back into the 
boat. I held the useless pistol as the taxi 
bounced across the river, disappeared 
behind a barge going upriver and then 
reappeared only as a distant lantern be- 
fore disappearing down a klong on the 
opposite side of the Chao Phraya. 

I knew that I would never see Tres 
alive again 


Mara lowers her gaze as Tanha brings 
her mouth to my groin. There is no ca- 
ress of tongue. Not yet. The younger 
woman uses her mouth to bring me to 
full erection. 

As much as men talk and write about 
the joys of oral sex, there is always a 
slight ambiguity in the male response to 
the act of fellatio. For some, a mouth is 
too non-gender-specific to allow the sub- 
conscious to relax and enjoy the act. For 
others, it is the uncontrolled intensity of 
sensation that causes a flutter of alarm 
amid the cascade of pleasure. For many, 
it is just the unbidden thought of sharp 
teeth. Luckily, the male organ is as sim- 
ple a stimulus-response mechanism as 
nature allows. Tanha’s mouth is soft and 
well-educated; my excitement follows its 
inevitable arc of engorgement 

I close my eyes and try not to think 
about not thinking about the men in 
tuxedos behind me. Someone has 
dimmed the overhead light so that only 
the fash of sparks dribbling from the 
welder two floors above lights the scene 
and the interior of my eyclids with mag- 
nesium strobes. Mara whispers some- 
thing and I feel sudden cold as Tanha’s 
warm mouth pulls away. The shock of 
cooler air is on me for only a second be- 
fore a different moisture returns. 

I open my eyes just enough to see 
Tanha’s tongue sliding from her mouth, 
curling around me. The flash from the 
welding sparks makes the mottled flesh 
of her tongue look more purple than 
pink. I catch a glimpse of pulsating slits 
amid the coated texture there, like tiny 
feeding orifices. I shut off my thoughts 
before the grasping mouth-guts of leech- 
es and lampreys come to mind. For years 
1 have trained myself to be equal to this 
moment. 

The sensation is more like a small elec- 
tric shock than the sting of a jellyfish. 1 
gasp and open my eyes. Tanha is watch- 
ing me through the curtain of her lashes. 
The shock comes again, riding down the 
exquisite penile nerve system straight to 
the base of my spine and then to the 
pleasure center of my brain. I close my 
eyes again and groan. My scrotum con- 
tracts with pleasure. The spiral of gentle 
shocks soars through my body and re- 
turns to my penis like a gently moving 
hand gloved in velvet. My hips begin to 
move without volition 

My heart is pounding so wildly that 
the pressure from it seems to replace 


sound as the only noise in the universe. 
My skull echoes to the rhythm of my own 
pulse. The separate, tiny shocks along 
my groin have grown together to forma 
perfect spiral of pleasurable sensation. It 
is as if I am fucking the sun. Even as my 
hips begin to thrust in earnest and my 
hands grope for Tanha's head to move 
that warmth closer, a distant part of my 
mind observes the classic symptoms of 
the onset of orgasm and wonders about 
the rate of tachycardia, myotonia and 
hyperventilation. 

A second later any remaining clinical 
awareness is washed away in a new and 
stronger surge of pure pleasure. Tanha's 
tongue is contracting, tugging from the 
base of my scrotum to the glans of my 
penis, tightening as it contracts and re- 
laxes, contracts and relaxes. The shocks 
have become a single closed circuit of 
nearly unbearable sensation. 

I ejaculate almost without noticing it, 
so great is the pressure now. From be- 
neath my fluttering eyelids I can see se- 
men dropping like a band of white petals 
on the hair and shoulders of Tanha. Her 
tongue does not desist for an instant. 
Her eyes are as yellow as her mother's 
now. The orgasm passes without release 
from the building pressure. My heart 
strains to pump more blood into my dis- 
tended organ. 

Yes! I will it even as my head arches 
back, my neck strains and my face dis- 
torts, 125! I choose the thing in which I 
now have no choice. 

A second later 1 come. Blood ejacu- 
lates from the tip of my penis and bathes 
Tanha's face and breasts. Greedily, she 
lowers her mouth again, unwilling to 
spill any of it. My hips pound as I con- 
tinue to pulse. The moment goes on 
and on. 

Mara leans closer. 


It was the Thai police who came for 
me just after sunrise that next morning 
92 years ago. I thought 1 would be ar- 
rested for wandering the hotel halls un- 
til the early hours, shouting at no one 
and brandishing a cocked .38. Instead of 
arresting me, they brought me to Tres. 

The Bangkok morgue was small and 
insufficiently cooled. The smell remind- 
ed me of an orchard where too much 
fallen fruit had gone bad in the sun. 
There were no metal cabinets or sliding 
stretchers as in the American movies. 
Tres was on a steel slab just like the oth- 
er corpses in the small room. They had 
not covered his face. He looked vulnera- 
ble without his glasses. 

“He's so... white,” | said to the only 
policeman who spoke English. 

“He was found in the river,” said the 
man in the white jacket and the Sam 
Browne belt 

“He didn't drown,” I said. It was not 


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а question. 

“The policeman shook his head. “Your 
friend lost much blood.” He tugged his 
white glove higher, touched Tres's chin 
and swiveled the corpse's head so that 1 
could see the Knife wound that ran from 
under his left car to his Adam's apple. 

I let out a breath and steadied myself 
against the steel platform. 

“The knife wound did not kill him,” 
said the inspector, tugging off the sheet. 
Tres's sex organs had been crudely but 
completely removed. ‘The effect was 
rather like a Ken doll that someone had 
spilled fingernail polish on. 

The inspector came closer and seized 
my forearm, whether to steady me or to 
restrain me from running I do not know. 
“We think that is—how you say it—a 
queer thing. A fight between faggots. We 
have seen this type of injury before. Al- 
ways it isa type of queer thing. Jealousy.” 

“A queer thing," I repeated. 

The inspector released my arm. “We 
know that you were not there at the time 
he was murdered, Private Merrick. The 
boatmaster at Phulong dock saw you 
shouting at the boat that carried Gorpo- 
ral Tindale away. The manager at the 
hotel will testify that you returned only a 
few minutes later, became drunk and re- 
mained visible and audible throughout 
the night. You could not have been pres- 
ent when the corporal was murdered, 
but do you have any idea who did this? 
Your military will demand to know.” 

I lifted the sheet, diaped it auos 
Tres's corpse and then stepped away 
from the men. “No,” I said. “I have no 
idea whatsoever,” 


. 


Mara licks the lips of her daughter. 
“Their arms are pulled in to their sides, 
their hands curled as if palsied. I imag- 
ine vampire bats hanging from the cold 
ceiling of a cave, wings tucked tight, on- 
ly their lips and their tongues active and 
engaged. 

Tanha arches her head and the heavy 
red liquid is propelled from her distend- 
ed lips to the waiting cavity of her moth- 
er's mouth. I hear the lapping, gurgling 
sounds clearly. Tanha’s tongue has not 
relinquished its grip, and I still spasm in 
her grasp. My heart is straining with the 
effort. My vision blackens and I can no 
longer see their feeding and sharing, on- 
ly hear the thick liquid sounds of it. 

My facial muscles are still locked in the 
myotonic spasm of an involuntary gri- 
mace. I would smile if I could. 


I found Maladung in the autumn of 
1975, not long after I graduated from 
medical school. The little pimp had re- 
tired rich and returned to his northern 
city of Chiang Mai. I paid off the Thai 
detective whom I'd hired with the first 
installment of my inheritance money 


168 and spent two days watching Maladung 


before picking him up. He was married 
and had two grown sons and a ten-year- 
old daughter. 

He was walking to the small store he 
ran in the old section of town when 1 
pulled up alongside him in a jeep, 
showed him the 9mm automatic and 
told him to get in. I took him into the 
countryside, to the small house I had 
rented. I promised him that he would 
live if he told me everything he knew. 

I think he did tell me everything he 
knew. Mara and her girl child had 
dropped out of sight and were perform- 
ing only for the very rich now. Tres had 
been killed as a simple precaution: He 
and I had been the first Americans al- 
lowed in Мага presence, and they 
feared the consequences if word of the 
performance got back to the platoon. 
They had planned to murder me that 
night, but the two men sent to commit 
the act had sccn me drunk and shout- 
ing in the upstairs hallway, noted the 
gun and decided otherwise. By the time 
others were sent, I had been shipped 
back to Saigon. 

Maladung swore that he had not 
known about Tres's murder until after it 
was carried out. He swore it. Maladung 
had never dreamed that the phanyaa 
mahn naga kio had meant to harm the 
farang beyond the services rendered. 1 
placed the Browning against his fore- 
head and told him to tell me upon pain 
of death what usually happens to those 
who received Mara’s services, 

Maladung was shaking like an old 
man, “They die,” he said in Thai and re- 
peated in English. “First they lose their 
soul"—kthwan hai was the phrase he used, 
"their butterfly spirit flies away"—"and 
then their weyan, life spirit, leaks out. 
They return and return until they die,” 
he said, voice quavering. “But this they 
choose.” 

I lowered the gun and said, “I believe 
you, Maladung. You didn’t know that 
they'd murder Tres.” Then I quickly lift- 
ed the Browning and shot him twice in 
the head. 

That same autumn I began the search 
for Mara. 


I open my eyes and the men in tuxe- 
dos are gone, Tanha is sitting above me 
on the chair next to her mother and the 
two young women are finishing their 
chore of cleaning and dressing me. I can 
feel the bandages under the trousers. It 
feels as if І am wearing diapers. My 
groin is moist with blood, but I hardly 
notice the discomfort because of the lin- 
gering pulse of pleasure that fills me like 
the echo of beautiful music. 

“Mr. Noi informs me that you said you 
have more money,” Mara says softly. 

I nod, too weak to speak. Any thought 
of attacking the woman is impossible to 
me now, even if I did not know that her 
men were waiting just beyond the wind- 


fluttered plastic. Mara and Tanha are 
sources of infinite pleasure. I could nev- 
er think of hurting them now, of inter- 
rupting what is to transpire in the com- 
ing nights. 

“The limousine will pick you up at 
midnight tomorrow at your hotel,” says 
Mara. Her fingers move and the four 
men come in to remove me. Lam mildly 
surprised to find that I cannot walk with- 
out assistance. 

The strects are empty and tomb-silent. 
Even the shooting has ended. Orange 
flames still burn to the north. I close my 
yes and savor the fading ecstasy as they 
drive me back to the Oriental. 


I don't think that I knew in Vietnam 
that I was gay. I disguised the love I felt 
for Tres as other things: loyalty to а bud- 
dy, admiration, even the masculine love 
that grunts are supposed to feel for one 
another in combat. But it was love. 

1 never came out of the doset. Not 
publicly. While in medical school 1 
learned how to troll the most discreet 
bars, meet the most discreet men and 
make the most discrect arrangements 
for temporary liaisons. Later, as my 
practice and public persona grew, 1 
learned how to keep my prowlings re- 
stricted to rare nights in cities far away 
from my home in LA. And 1 dated 
women. Those who wondered why 1 
never married had only to look at my 
busy practice to see that 1 had no time 
for a domestic life. 

And 1 continued to hunt Mara and 
"Tanha. Twice a year I flew to Thailand, 
learning the language and the cities, and 
twice a ycar 1 was told by my paid oper- 
atives there that the women had disap- 
peared. Only two years ago, in 1990, did 
they surface again, driven into accepting 
expensive performances as their need 
for money was renewed. 

"There was nothing I could do then. 
The more I learned of Mara and Tanha 
and thcir habits, the more I was certain 1 
could never get close to them with a 
weapon. Then, only six months ago, cer- 
tain results were returned and, after а 
few hours of almost hysterical anger, 1 
saw that the means had been put into 
my hands. 

I began to make my plans. 


“Good morning, Dr. Merrick,” says 
the young Thai valetin the lobby. He po- 
litely ignores my bloody collar and di- 
sheveled appearance. 

I smile and wait for the elevator doors 
to dose before grasping the brass rail 
and struggling to hold myself upright. Т 
can feel the bandages leaking through 
my trousers. Only the long photograph- 
er’s vest hides the blood there. 

In my room I bathe, treat the lesions 


with a special salve I have brought, inject 
myself with a coagulant, bathe again and 
pull on fresh pajamas before crawling in- 
to bed. It will be light in a few minutes. 
In 14 hours, darkness will fall again and 
1 will return to Mara and her daughter. 


In Chiang Mai, where the whores are 
cheap and the young men celebrate en- 
try into manhood by buying a fuck, 72 
percent of the city's poorest pr tes 
tested positive for HIV in 1989. 

In the bars and sex clubs along Pat- 
pong, condoms are handed out free by a 
man in a red, blue and gold superhero 
suit. His name is Captain Condom and 
he is employed by the Population and 
Community Development Association 
The PDA is the brainchild of Senator 
Mechai Viravaidaya, an economist and 
member of the WHO Global Commis- 
sion оп AIDS. Mechai has spent so much 
of his own time, energy and money pro- 
moting condom use that rubbers are 
called mechais by everyone in Bangkok. 
Almost no one uses them. The men 
refuse to and the women do not force 
the issue. 

One out of every 50 people in Thai- 
land makes his or her living selling sex. 

I think that the computer projections 
for the year 2000 are wrong. I think that 
far more than 5 million Thai will be in- 


fected and many more than 1 million 
will have died. 1 think that the corpses 
will fill the klongs and lie along the gut- 
ters of the sois. I think that only the rich 
and the very, very careful will avoid this 
plague. 

Mara and Tanha were, until recently, 
very rich. And they have been very care- 
ful. Only their need to be very rich again 
has led them to be careless. 

My HIV-negative documents are, of 
course, falsified. It was not difficult. The 
lab reports are real; only the dates and 
name were changed prior to my photo- 
copying them onto official stationery 
and adding the seals. I serve on the fac- 
ulty of all three of the institutions whose 
seals and forms I borrowed. 

In the six months since I tested HIV- 
positive, the plan grew from a scheme to 
an inevitability. 

They are monsters, Mara and her 
child, but even monsters grow careless. 
Eyen monsters can be killed. 


There is no fan on the ceiling of my 
expensive air-conditioned suite at the 
Oriental Hotel. As the first pale gleam- 
ings of the dawn creep across the teak- 
and-plaster ceiling of my room, I con- 
tent myself with imagining a fan slowly 
turning and lull myself to sleep with the 
image. 


I smile when L imagine the coming 
night's activity and the night that will fol- 
low this one. I can see the older woman 
licking the younger woman's lips, and 
then opening wide her maw for the cas- 
cade of blood. My blood. Death's blood. 

Before dropping offto sleep, lulled by 
the medication I have taken and by the 
final turn of things, I remember the sto- 
ту Tres told me so many years ago about 
the temptation of the Buddha by Mara's 
three daughters: Aradi, discontent; Tan- 
ha, desire; and Raka, love. And I know 
now that in my life 1 have surrendered 
to all three of these all-too-human 
demons, but that the only one worthy of 
our surrender is Raka. Love. 

Trying to sleep now, I summon the im- 
age that has sustained me through all 
these years and through these final 
months. 

1 imagine Tres removing his glasses 
and squinting at me, his face as vulnera- 
ble as a boy's, his cheek as soft as only a 
lover's cheek can be. And he says to me, 
"I'm going back, Johnny. I'm going back 
tonight." 

And I take his hand in mine. And I say, 
with the absolute certainty of conviction, 
“I'm going, too.” 

Smiling now, having found the place I 
have sought so long to return to, I re- 
lease myself to sleep and forgiveness. 


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PLAYBOY 


GUESS WHO? „ставе 136) 


“Tm young and I'm blonde and Pin Texan,’ she said, 


‘but I'm a serious person. I take work seriously. 


Houston and moved in with her mother, 
a police officer. They didn't get along, so 
Anna and Daniel found a place of their 
own, a tiny studio apartment in Hous- 
ton. She took two jobs, waiting tables at a 
Red Lobster and working as a Wal-Mart 
cashier. 

“I knew that something would happen 
one day. I just had to keep trying." 

She went for an interview at one of 
Houston's biggest modeling agencies 
"They asked me for money, told me to 
darken my hair, lose weight, change the 
way I looked and go to modeling school. 
1 dyed my hair. Then I cried for two 
weeks, and they told me to forget it. You 
just don't have it, that's what they said.” 

A local photographer took a few pic- 
tures. He sent them to PLAYBOY's Los An- 
geles studio. ргАҮВОҮ flew Anna to the 
West Coast for tests. Impressed by the 
results, the magazine signed her up for 
the cover and as a Playmate. 

"She has that look," said Gary Cole, 
PLAYBOV'S Photography Director. “You 
can be sitting next to her and you think, 
Well, she's OK, she's not bad. But then 
you put her in front of a camera and, 
damn, it's another woman—not just an- 
other great blonde but someone ex- 
traordinary. That's what we saw." 

Paul Marciano, the man who invented 
Guess Jeans, saw the same thing when 
he picked up the March and May 1992 
issues of PLAYBOY. 

“I was totally mesmerized by that 
March cover," he said. "Her face drove 
me crazy." He looked inside the issue for 
more pictures but found none. When 
Anna's Playmate pictorial came out 
in May he called Marilyn Grabowsl 
PLAYBOY'S West Coast Photography Es 
tor. He had two questions: Who was she? 
Where could he find her? 

“I met Paul in Houston,” Anna said. 
“He was shooting a new series of Guess 
ads in San Antonio and he invited me 
down to watch them work. No promises, 
he said, and that was the deal. After Га 
been in San Antonio for a couple of 
hours he told them to put some makeup 
on me, just for a little test. Then they 
looked at the pictures and kept shooting 
me for the next two days. That's how 
1 got to sign up with Guess Jeans for 
three years.” 

Paul Marciano, who called me after I'd 
seen Anna, confirmed the essentials. 
“We went to San Antonio to shoot a cata- 
log of clothing for babies and kids,” he 
said. “When ] met her, I wasn't sure how 


170 it would turn out. She didn't valk like a 


2» 


model, she didn't look like a model. But 
in front of a camera she was magic. It 
was absolutely astounding, just seeing it 
happen. And it wasn't easy work, either. 
We were shooting in temperatures of a 
hundred and six. After ten minutes her 
makeup melted. She carried on as if 
she'd been doing it all her life." 

Back at the hotel in Chicago, the Fonz 
was doing his Happy Days shtick. Anna 
giggled. 

“Here’s a copy of the script,” she said. 

Script? Right, almost forgot, the movie 
she had come to Chicago to make, 1 
looked at the cover. The Hudsucker Proxy. 
An industrial fantasy, it said on the bot- 
tom. A film by Joel and Ethan Coen. The 
Coen brothers! The guys who made 
Blood Simple. Raising Arizona. Barton Fink. 
Miller’s Crossing. Cinematic milestones, in 
my humble view. 

"It's got Paul Newman and Tim Rob- 
bins in it,” said Anna. "I play the part of 
Tim's girlfriend, then I dump him for an 
elevator man. It's going to be one funny 
movie. I was laughing so hard watching 
"Tim the other day, they had to take my 
mike off." 

I was thinking: From Red Lobster and 
Wal-Mart to the Coen boys, Newman 
and Robbins. I thought life didn’t write 
that kind of story anymore. 

“What's next, Anna?” 

“Tm just waiting for things to slow 
down," she said. "It's all gone so fast. 
We've been shooting from six at night 
until four in the morning. Same again 
tonight." 

Ah, that explains lier reaction to шу 
wake-up call at noon. Sorry, Anna. 

“га give a lot for a little more sleep. 
Next week we move to North Carolina 
and start shooting again." 

She has three months of solid book- 
ings after she finishes Hudsucker. Model- 
ing jobs, guest appearances, making 
movies. In between, she flies home to be 
with seven-year-old Daniel, or takes him 
with her when she's working close to 
home. She'll be in Cannes for the 1993 
International Film Festival. Later she 
wants to rent an apartment in New York 
City for a year and get serious about act- 
ing lessons. 

"I'm young and I'm blonde and I'm 
Texan,” she said, “but I'm a serious per- 
son. I take work seriously and 1 take 
Daniel seriously, even though he drives 
me nuts when he beats me at Nintendo. 
Which he does all the time. He just 
laughs—he's too quick for me." 

She admits it, she doesn't take kindly 


to losing. "Watch out if you play Monop- 
oly with me. You send me to jail and 
I will kick that whole game over.” She 
could do it, too. The woman has some 
powerful legs. They come from years of 
hard work. 

She's reading more scripts and has 
found at least one she likes. Her ambi- 
tion is to be an actress in the Monroe tra- 
dition: sexy, cool and funny. “1 can't ex- 
plain it because 1 don't understand it, 
but I've always felt this strong connec- 
tion to Marilyn Monroe, always. She's 
who I turn to when I get upset. I play 
her songs, look at her pictures, watch 
her movies. Гуе got them all except Riv- 
er of No Return. Y sure wish I could find 
that one." 

As for actors, the one she said had the 
most lethal cffect on her was Brad Pitt in 
Thelma & Louise. "The strange thing is, 
he's not even my type, but when I saw 
him in that sex scene in the motel with 
Geena Davis, 1 couldn't take my eyes off 
him. I just could not sit still. He drove 
me totally nuts. It was all 1 could do to 
make it through the movie.” 

I swear she squirmed, ever so gently, 
at the memory. 

“I don't know about that kind of stuff. 
Beiron, the guy I work with in the Guess 
ads—he's the young one with the dark 
hair hanging over his face? He's so cute. 
When they told me to kiss him I couldn't 
stop laughing, hc lookcd so good. Those 
big lips of his." 

That Beiron guy, I was thinking, is 
one lucky stiff, I bet Anna doesn't call 
him sir. The only people she calls sir, 1 
bet, are the ones who remind her of cus- 
tomers lining up at Wal-Mart for their 
hearing-aid batteries. 

Г asked her if she ever feels like calling 
up the Houston modeling agency and 
saying, “Yoo-hoo, just thought I'd say hi. 
"Thanks for the career advice." 

She has no such need. "I don't have to 
be mean to anyone now. I just smile and 
keep right on going." 

She recently bought a 15-acre ranch 
not far from Houston. Anna and Daniel 
share it with 30 guinea fowl, three 
turkeys, three pigs, three horses, 90 
cows, a breeding bull, two parrots, a 
tame squirrel and six dogs. 

"I'm looking for a couple of zebras 
and a chimp,” she said. “I want one of 
those chimps that shake hands and like 
to be hugged.” 

Those are not the only items on her 
live shopping list. 

“Well, I've got the ranch,” she mur- 
mured in that soft voice—and she had a 
wicked smile as she said this—“Now all I 
need is a cowboy.” 

Bet your boots on it, she won't be call- 


ing him sir. 


GOLF CARTS: («continue fron page 119) 


“Little more could be expected in realizing the Führer's 
mad dream of a sub-20-minute round.” 


purpose of the G-101 Ozymandias, as of- 
fered to a skeptical 1946 Allied panel 
charged with tracking down last-ditch 
Nazi secret weapons. 

The pachydermatous 12-wheeled pro- 
totype—three stories high, 45 feet 
long—had been spotted early in March 
1945 by an Allied photoreconnaissance 
plane on a sweep over the Gunder und 
Vunk locomotive works near Peene- 
múnde, and was classified by baffled in- 
telligence analysts as a new Nazi terror 
machine, mission unknown. In fact, the 
Ozymandias represented not deadly ter- 
ror but simple hubris. With its internal 
driving range, on-board pro shop and 
locker room, VIP spectating veranda, 
dubhouse bar with seating for 500 and 
five satellite minicarts, this behemoth of 
the links was late Nazi golf cart technolo- 
gy gone to such extremes that it could al- 
most be said to have run amok. 

Yet the Ozymandias oozed more 
pathos than grandeur. With every en- 
gine in the Reich spoken for by the mili- 
tary, it depended for power on the 168 
pumping legs of 84 pedalers of the Iron 
Tendon Brigade, sweating away deep 
within its papier-máché fuselage. (That 
rear-mounted propeller, which was also 
pedal-powered, served as their cooling 
fan.) During its brief trial runs, the un- 
wieldy beast routinely steamrollered 
every bench, every caddy shack and су- 
ery clubhouse in its path. 

In the waning hours of the war, in a 
sour paroxysm of the poor sportsman- 
ship that had so often marred the affairs 
of the Third Reich, the only G-101 ever 
completed was slung under an Me 323 
Gigant transport plane and dropped on 
Scotland's historic Saint Andrews. 


A Chip Shot Across the Channel—The 
75-2 Sea Weasel Amphibian, 1940: Opera- 
tion Sea Lion was the code name for 
Hitler's planned invasion of England in 
the fall of 1940. Operation Sea Weasel 
was the code name for a parallel plot to 
plant Germany's golf cleats on Great 
Britain's throat. Simultaneous with the 
start of Operation Sea Lion, the diabolic 
plan was to launch hundreds of am- 
phibious Sea Weasel carts from the 
shores of northern France under a bom- 
bardment of thousands of golf balls 
lofted across the English Channel by 
huge hydraulically actuated drivers— 
the Obergolfkommando's dreaded “15.5- 


Woods"—to terrorize and confuse the 
golfing populace on every course in the 
home counties. By the time the balls 
stopped bouncing, the Sea Weasels and 
their three-man crews would have land- 
ed and raced to their individual desig- 
nated courses. “Every nineteenth hole in 
the kingdom will be crawling with Nazis 
by nightfall,” Goebbels chortled in his 
diary. 

But it was not to be. Operation Sea Li- 
оп was abandoned (not enough golf balls 
could be commandeered) and Opera- 
tion Sea Weasel sank in its wake. The 
amphibious golf cart—like the heavy-wa- 
ter ball washer, the underground driving 
range, the combination sand and tank 
trap and so many other ambitious 
schemes of the Nazi golf machine—was a 
dead duck. 

. 


“Time the Fastest Caddy іп the Reich, Then 
Make Me a Cart Tuenty Times Faster" —The 
2-262 Rocket Cart, 1945: Hitler's Edict 
Number 654 of February 1945 was in- 
sanc, but it was also law, With Allicd 
armies crashing across the frontiers of 
the Reich on all sides, the Führer said, 


“Time is of the essence.” The 1945 sum- 
mer golf season would be advanced to 
carly spring and played at a pace never 
before imagined, much less attempted: 
A foursome must be able to finish 18 
holes—even at challenging Berchtes- 
gaden Hills—in 15 minutes flat. 

At its temporary headquarters under a 
miniature golf course near Stuttgart, the 
Reichsgolfinstitut swung into frantic ac- 
tion. Begging and borrowing inspiration 
and materials from a clutch of golf nuts 
employed by the Air Ministry, Institut 
engineers worked around the clock to 
create the 2-262 in little more than a 
month. With its 3000-horsepower rocket 
engine, it was and remains to this day 
the fastest-moving golf cart ever devised, 
and by a comfy 350-miles-per-hour mar- 
gin. With its radar-operated ball finder, 
it could home in on an errant Führer- 
Flite 20 feet deep in a water hazard or 
100 yards back in a pine-forest rough. 
A built-in fan could blow sand traps 
smooth in seconds. 

Little more could be reasonably ex- 
pected of golf cart technology in realiz- 
ing the Führer's mad dream of a sub- 
20-minute round. But time was even 
more pressing than Hitler had reck- 
oned. Before the Z-262 could be made 
operational, golf was canceled. The 
Third Reich was canceled. Hitler was 
canceled. And with him any conceivable 
need for a 376-mph golf cart. 


NEWT COULD DEMAND TWICR AG MUCH MONEY AS 
HOLDERS BECAUSE це WAS THO BEST. 


РЇ БҮ НОУ, 


172 


DE LUST AND ARMS ont rom page 96) 


“We joined to defend our country, but we had hopes of 


getting laid in ways we had not even dreamed of.” 


publicly in order not to fight. There is, 
however, something to be said for the 
old way—for hypocrisy. As the old joke 
used to go in the Soviet Union, we pre- 
tend to work and they pretend to pay us. 
In the military, the hypocrisy has been 
that gays pretend to be straight and 
straights pretend to believe them. 

As for hypocrisy, it is, like sex, central 
to war. We dressed in uniforms and ate 
polite dinners, followed by toasts where 
we swore undying loyalty to the task 
of protecting our wives, mothers and 
daughters. Then we went to places 
where we could get drunk while getting 
blow jobs from women under the table. 


And we saw absolutely no contradiction 
in any of this. 

We joined to defend our country, but 
we also had high hopes of getting laid in 
ways we had not even dreamed of as we 
grew up. The military is often composed 
of young men and women who are away 
from home for the first time. Sexual ad- 
venture is part of the ticket. Mademoi- 
selle d'Armentieres, of doughboy fame, 
lured many a GI to France. According to 
the Brits, the Americans in England in 
World War Two were “overpaid, over- 
sexed and over here.” The tens of thou- 
sands of Amerasian children from Viet- 
nam are living testimony to the sexual 
sideline of war, as is the Gulf war's fa- 


“Rodney, watch your language. Someone might overhear.” 


mous Love Boat, a supply ship on which 
97 sailors became pregnant. Sex is going 
to happen. 

The brutal expression of sexuality 
during war is part of the dehuman- 
izing process. How else could knights 
schooled in chivalry rape and mutilate so 
many women and children in Jerusalem 
that the streets ran with blood? How else 
could Serbs, who are no more evil than 
anyone else, use rape as a tool of nation- 
al humiliation? How else to explain My 
Lai? The rape of Belgium? Of Nanking? 
Even the word is perfect, for rape is the 
use of power to humiliate and destroy. It 
is taking the most sacred act, the act of 
making life, and turning it into some- 
thing brutal, degrading and murderous. 

The dark fact is that soldicrs are 
trained to kill as a group, and the darker 
secret is that sexual cnergy is deeply re- 
lated to killing. The aggressiveness of 
combat comes from adrenaline, self 
preservation, love and sexual tension, 
The combat unit shoots off at its enemies 
and not into each other. The sexual im- 
agery is precise and learned in basic 
training. “This is my rifle,” the drill in- 
structor said, holding his M-16. “This is 
my gun,” he continued, holding his dick, 
“this is for fighting, this is for fun.” 

The truth about combat is that it is on- 
ly possible if the mind is prepared, if oth- 
er human beings are transformed into 
enemies—into things. That is the crucial 
step in combat training. What makes a 
man a soldier is not simply that he knows 
how to use a rifle and a bayonet, a rock- 
et or a torpedo, but that he can. His 
mind is his most powerful weapon. That 
word, enemy, is what fuels it. It's what 
lets otherwise decent men pull triggers, 
drop bombs and pull down their pants 
to rape children. In war that power, once 
unleashed, has to be rigidly controlled 
or atrocities happen. The wildness that 
made Tailhook such a blight comes from 
the same sexual repression in which 
combat behavior is isolated. We want 
those pilots to fight with utter aggres- 
siveness, to kill without mercy, but all 
within certain rules. 

What to do? My feeling is to keep com- 
bat units as they are, but that won't hap- 
pen. The force of law and politics is 100 
strong. We do owe it to the men and wom- 
en who will have to live with these changes 
to think hard about what they mean, and 
not to talk in slogans or to parade sensi- 
tive knowledge about sexuality that has 
lite to do with the reality of combat. 
The Dutch and other small military 
organizations have had few problems 
with acknowledged homosexuals in their 
ranks, but few armics that actually have 
to fight admit them into combat units. 
Gay activists often cite the Isracli army as 
an example of homosexual acceptance, 
but in fact, acknowledged homosexuals 
are subjected to psychological tests and 
extra security checks and arc often ex- 
cluded from frontline combat units. 


Sexual preference, of course, has 
nothing to do with combat performance 
Gays, like straights, can be heroes or 
cowards, I found that out in the 
Marines. There was absolutely no way to 
predict who would do well in combat. 
Some of the most all-American, squared- 
away marines fell apart under fire, while 
some of the worst shitbirds were incredi- 
bly brave. You learn quickly who can be 
counted on and who can't. At that level 
no one cares whether the grenadier is 
male, female, gay, straight or Tasma- 
nian; you care about only whether he ог 
she can lay a round in front of enemy 
soldiers trying to kill you and if he or 
she will stand fast and carry you out of 
harm's way if you 
are wounded 

Some actions 
could be taken im- 
mediately. Military 
snoops, particular- 
ly the infamous 
Naval Criminal In- 
vestigative Service, 
should stop prying 
into the private 
lives of Armed 
Forces personnel 
off base. The sod- 
omy statute in 
the Uniform Code 
of Military Justice 
needs to be abol- 
ished: Itis an insult 
to the commonly 
accepted sexual 
practices of adults 
of every sexual 
persuasion, Rules 
regarding sexual 
harassment should 
be tightened dra- 
matically, with 
careful attention to 
defining harass- 
ment in ways that 
leave open sexual 
give and take. Ac- 
knowledged ho- 
mosexuals, like 
women, should be 
allowed in the Air 
Force, most areas 
of the Navy and much of the Army 
and Marines: To deny them would be 
like denying them the right to serve in 
the Postal Service. It's the combat units 
that remain the problem. 

In those units, we should settle only 
for combat arms staffed with soldiers 
picked solely on performance: the best 
people available—men or women, 
straight or gay, black, brown, yellow, 
white. Anyone who can cut it stays in, 
anyone who can't gets booted out. If 
women or gays can shoot straighter, run 
faster, carry more and kill with less hesi- 
tation than straight men, sign them up. 
As former Mayor Ed Koch once said, he 
didn't care whether a firefighter was 


male or female so long as he or she could 
carry a 200-pound mayor from a burn- 
ing building, 

Let's get the best. But that doesn't just 
mean the best at physical tests. The best 
soldiers are the ones who fit in with the 
unit, who submerge their identities into 
the group, who embody its code of 
courage and selflessness. The best sol- 
diers meet high standards of behavior 
under stressful conditions, including 
high standards of sexual behavior. 

We are asking a lot of 19-year-olds 
when we turn them into soldiers, which 
means, plainly put, when we turn them 
into killers: Сап they come to accept ho- 
mosexuals and/or women in their units 


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and still function? The power of combat 
training can overcome a lot. It obliter- 
ates race, class, region and religion, Can 
it obliterate sexuality, too? You don't cre- 
ate a unit by emphasizing individual 
rights. You do it by destroying them. To 
announce that you are homosexual 
would have to be no different than an- 
nouncing you are black or Catholic or 
left-handed. The only correct response 
is “What the fuck difference does it 
make? Give me twenty!” 

The chant of the drill instructor is 
“There are no blacks or whites in my 
Marine Corps, no Jews or Catholics, no 
rich or poor people, only Marines.” Сап 
he say, “No straights or gays, no men or 


women?” Would they believe it? Would 
the power of sexual repression—the 
power that unites soldiers and gives 
them the strength to fight—bleed away 
in the many sexual possibilities with ho- 
mosexuals and women around, no mat- 
ter what the rules say? 

To exert the power that will be needed 
to obliterate sexuality in a combat unit 
will require tough authority and merci- 
less training—the kind usually opposed 
by the advocates of integrating gays and 
women into the military. We'd better be 
ready for that. 1 am not saying it can’t be 
done. I am glad I will not have to try to 
make it work when my own life depends 
on it. That is, bottom line, what we 
are talking about. 
On the one hand, 
highly qualified 
homosexuals and/ 
or women could 
bring skills and tal- 
ents to keep their 
buddies alive. On 
the other hand, 
they could inject 
the serpent of sex 
into the dark gar- 
den where courage 
lives. 

As for poor 
Brown, years later 
I learned that he 
was, in fact, straight 
and that his tor- 
mentor, Stanley, 
was gay. Both went 
on to Vietnam and 
served, so far as 1 
know, with distinc- 
tion. But the story 
reminds me of 
how sexuality goes 
deeper than any of 
us knows, and how 
the ultimate truths 
about people are 
usually buried 
deep in the reaches 
of the human 
heart. 

The principle to 
be upheld right 
now is that individ- 
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freedoms, must be protected until it 
conflicts with the needs of the military 
unit. Combat units in particular are not 
democracies. The individual counts for 
nothing. The group is everything. The 
bonds that hold soldiers together in 
combat are homoerotic. The power to 
fight comes from sexual repression. The 
only way to allow women and acknowl- 
edged homosexuals into such conditions 
is to recognize the absolute necessity of a 
taboo against sexual contact. It is no less 
important than the taboo against incest. 
Lives absolutely depend on it. 


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SCANDAL 


(continued from page 57) 
had been involved in some of the more 
questionable transactions of the agencies 
they will now supervise. He has shown 
no concern that BRW Inc., a 
ture of the Blackstone Group, Goldman, 
Sachs and J. E. Robert Co., has been one 
of the main beneficiaries of the fire sales 
of failed S&L assets. 

Astudy by the Southern Finance Proj- 
ect, a highly regarded nonprofit research 
center, shows that BRW paid the RTC 
only $39.8 million for $65 million worth 
of property, indicating a bargain rate of 
61 cents on the dollar. This was duringa 
period when the RTC was turning down 
smaller would-be investors who were of- 
fering close to full price for properties. 

How did the RTC make such bizarre 
policy decisions? Among other things, 
it turned to Blackstone and Goldman, 
Sachs, paying them handsome fees for 
advising the agency on policy, 
though they were also customers. “ 
is an incestuous environment,” Tom 
Schlesinger, director of the Southern Fi- 
nance Project, told the L.A. Times. “The 
companies that make up BRW are si- 
multaneously playing different sides of 
the S&L bailout.” Goldman, Sachs, for 
instance, profited perhaps more than 
any other firm from the RTC fir sales, 
In one case involving City Sa 
failed New Jersey thrift, Goldman Sachs 
ended up with the rightto buy $3 billion 
of RTC mortgages, which the RTC 
didn’t have in its inventory at that bank. 
Instead of just paying off Goldman, 
Sachs, the RTC granted it the right to 
pluck $3 billion of the lower-quality 
loans from the RTC inventory. The L.A. 
Times reported that “critics within the 
RIC said the deal amounted to a w 
fall for the firm that could add $150 m 
lion to the bailout bill.” 

The cozy relationship between Wall 
Sweet firms and the RTC should get co- 
zier now that the top executives of the 
firms have been brought in as the foxes 
protecting the government's henhouse. 
Rubin is likely to oversee the S&L 
bailout in his job as coordinator of eco- 
nomic policy. Altman will head the RTC 
oversight committee at the Treasury 
Department. 

Contributing to the losses at the RTC 
is the failure to value accurately the as- 
sets being sold. Despite a $52 million 
computer system built to RTC specifica- 
tions by IBM, the RTC never got a clear 
idea of its own inventory. The General 
Accounting Office found the slow and 
erratic system useless and concluded 
that 80 percent of these all-important 
records are missing crucial pieces of in- 
formation. As the L-A. Times reported af- 
ter its own investigation: “The system is 


riddled with data errors. A modest home 
in Phoenix with an appraised value of 
$73,000 is listed by the computer system 
at $79 million." An IBM spokesman de- 
fends the company by asserting, "The 
system is doing exactly what the RTC 
asked it to do. 

Critics within the agency charge that 
the RTC used its incompetence as an ex- 
сизе for abandoning the sale of proper- 
ties to smaller individual buyers. Inst 
of methodically selling properties to the 
highest bidder, the agency threw up its 
hands and invited top Wall Street firms 
to package pools of resources to sell back 
to the very firms that were doing the 
packaging. Ordinary buyers, lacking the 
huge cash reserves needed to bid at auc- 
tion on such expensive bundles of prop- 
erty, were simply out of luck 

“Then the RTC hit on the idea of secu- 
ritization, selling shares backed by large 
groupings of sound mortgage loans 
through Wall Street. This decision, 
made at a time when the Wall Street in- 
vestment houses were advising the RTC, 
also benefited those houses because they 
had the means to buy and sell large 
property blocks and securities 

As The Washington Post noted last De- 
cember, “Goldman, Sachs already has 
been one of the biggest players in the 
three-year-old S&L cleanup and hopes 
to play an even larger role as the govern- 


ment relies more heavily on Wall Street 
to sell its thrift industry” A Goldman, 
Sachs spokesman told the Post that “Ru- 
bin is taking steps to ensure that his 
holdings at Goldman, Sachs don't com- 
pel him to step aside from government 
decisions affecting S&Ls and other fi- 
nancial institutions.” 

Big deal. His holdings will be put in a 
blind trust. Does anyone think for a se 
ond that Rubin and Altman will sudden- 
ly start thinking of the interests of the 
taxpayer rather than of the Wall Street 
giants that spawned them? 

I'm not much of a fan of Albert Casey, 
the former head of American Airlines 
who has been running the RTC this past 
year, but it worries me that even he is 
alarmed. “What are we going to do now, 
when we do all this business with the 
Blackstone Group and Goldman, Sachs 
and Clinton brings all those people in?” 
asey asked іп an interview reported in 
The Wall Street Journal. In the case of 
Goldman, Sachs, I this business” 
meant the purchase of $890 million in 
assets from the RTC and in underwrit- 
ing securities based on $15.2 billion in 
mortgages from defunct thrifis—plus 
the purchase of almost $: ion in junk 
bonds at much-reduced rates. 

While all of that was going on, Rubin 
managed to gain а net worth of between 
$50 million and $100 million in Gold- 


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man, Sachs. And Dee Dee Myers, Clin- 
ton's press secretary, tells us, “We're go- 
ing to work very hard to remove the ap- 
pearance of a conflict." 

Soon alter Myers made her statement, 
The New York Times published parts of a 
letter from Rubin to Goldman, Sachs’ 
clients telling them they would be well 
served by the firm while he is in the 
White House. He ended his statement 
by saying, "I look forward to continuing 
to work with you in my new capacity.” 

I bet he does, and Goldman, Sachs will 
make out as well as it always does. But 
what about the rest of us? Doesn't Con- 
gress have an obligation to say enough is 
enough? The taxpayers have paid dear- 
ly for this S&L mess. In return for the 54 
billion handed the RTC, Gongress 
should insist on playing with a clean 
deck. At the very least, a full-blown con- 
gressional investigation of the manner in 
which Failed thrift assets have been sold 
is in order. And in the spirit of free en- 
terprise, let's allow ordinary investors a 
fair shot at these properties. 

Justice is not likely. At the same mo- 
ment in March that Loophole Lloyd 
asked Congress for the new handout, he 
appointed Altman acting chairman of 
the RTC. These people have no shame. 


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the game master 
(continued from page 128) 
market, which was just beginning to take 
shape in Japan. All he needed to do was 
develop a good system for the home— 
and then create a pipeline with an end- 
less supply of games. “We had a head 
start because of our distribution net- 
g playing card: toy and 
department stores," Yamauchi explains. 
“It was a logical decision.” 
coming up with the perfect home- 
video system was not especially 
since the industry was young and Ya- 
mauchi had no special knack for com- 
puters. “He had no concept that he was 
building a computer," admits Masayuki 
Uemura, one of Nintendo's engineer: 
"But he had his first glimpse of the in- 
credible potential of a home-computer 
system disguised as a toy. He saw far 
more than he let on to us." 
'amauchi pushed and bullied his en- 
gineers to develop new games by pitting 
them against one another. He divided 
them into groups and said that he would 
produce the work of only one group— 
the one that outdid the others. “Months 
of work were disposed of with a scowl,” 
one top designer complained. If the 
chairman was displeased, the project was 
dead, instantly. His victims suggested 
that Yamauchi's judgment was some- 
times capricious and that his callousness 
caused a great deal of frustration and 
anger Engineers occasionally lef, and 
others, exhausted and disappointed, 
were sent on sabbatical. They were told, 
“The company is making money. Don't 
work. Spend the time, relax. Come back 
fresh.” Designers whose work was reject- 
ed would redouble their efforts, deter- 
mined to have their game chosen the 
next time. 

“It’s true that people complain,” Ya- 
mauchi admit ut this method works. 
I have found ıhat competition among 
workers and high expectations are great 
motivators. As а result, 1 get the kind of 
work that is expected. Of course, some 
people do not like it, but they are the 
same people who have not succeeded." 

In 1983 Yamauchi began selling the 
system his men had created. Since it was, 
he claimed, Japan's first Family Comput- 
er, he dubbed it the Famicom. Con- 
sumers were dazzled less by the Fami- 
com itself than they were by the 
games—such as Super Mario Brothers 
and the Legend of Zelda—created by 
Nintendo's competing research and de- 
velopment groups. These games were, 
simply put, some of the best ever invent- 
ed. Millions of Famicoms flew olf the 
shelves. 

"We sold the hardware as cheaply as 
possible,” Yamauchi says. “Of course, the 
idea was to then be able to sell software. 
When the customers had the Nintendo 
machine, they needed Nintendo soft- 
ware.” Once millions of people had a 


Famicom, Nintendo was selling all the 
games it could manufacture. Outside 
software companies were signed up as li 
сепзеев to create Famicom games—and 
they paid Nintendo a handsome fee for 
the privilege. Nintendo earned “obscene 
profits,” as one of the company’s vice 
presidents phrased it 

New games were anticipated with a 
fervor that shocked store owners, dis 
tributors and parents. Kids camped out 
in front of department stores and toy 
shops. Nintendomania was well unde 
way in Japan when the machine 
named the Nintendo Entertainment Sy 
tem, was released in America in 19 
More than 35 million systems were sold 
in America by 1992, as well as more than 
17 million in Japan and more than 5 mil- 
lion in Europe, Atari, the company that 
started it all, had virtually no share of 
the industry that, in 1992, brought in 56 
billion in the U.S. 


re- 


In Japan, the Nintendo chairman is 
driven each morning through winding 
Kyoto streets from the home that be- 
longed to the doctor of the emperor in 
the 15th century. Behind an immense 
tangled garden is the residence, a tradi- 
tional home built in the style of a Japan- 
ese temple. In past generations, wealth 
was measured by the number of tatami 
rectangular sec- 
tions of sweet-smelling, woven straw—in 
a family’s home. The average home has 
eight or ten tatami; the Yamauchi home 
has 152. 

A day maid and a cook arrive cach 
morning and leave after supper. Anoth- 
er maid cleans a few times a week. Ya- 
mauchi's wife, Michiko, runs the home 
informally. There is modern furniture in 
the ancient, traditional structure, and a 
teahouse is used as a storage doset 
Michiko enjoys entertaining. There аге 
parties and visits from friends and rela- 
tives. But one thing is missing. “Dad 
stays away,” says his daughter Yoko 

According to his daughter, Yamauchi 
has rarely had much interest in his 
family. His parenting style apparently 
mirrors his management techniques. 
His children say he exercised control at 
home by terrorizing them—issuing 
edicts and enforcing curfews. In turn, 
his three children hated Nintendo be- 
cause it consumed their father, 

But Yamauchi was distracted by more 
than work. He was оп! his late 30s. 
fabulously wealthy and roguishly attrac- 
tive, a cigarette always dangling from the 
corner of his mouth. Even after he sold 
his hotel, he was a familiar face among 
the Kyoto ck nonde. His wife said 
nothing, but his children resented him 
bitterly 

In 1970, on Yoko's 20th birthday, 
Yamauchi shocked her when he an- 
nounced he was taking her out on the 
town. She dressed up and accompanied 


him to a cabaret, a sikikake, where five 
geisha attended them, serving drinks. 
The women obviously knew Hiroshi 
very well He toasted his daughter's 
coming-of-age, but when it got late, he 
sent her home іп а taxi. He didn't go 
home until dawn. 

Now 71 years old, Yamauchi no longer. 
carouses at the Gion. His only relaxation 
comes from a tumbler of scotch and an 
occasional game of go. His true love is 
Nintendo, and his obsession has paid off. 
Yet Yamauchi observes year after year of 
record-breaking sales and profits with- 
out celebration. “It is meaningless,” he 
says. His family realizes that Yamauchi's 
success means nothing to him, “He is of- 
ten alone,” Yoko says. “I don't think he 
thinks about being happy.” 

There is speculation about Yamauchi's 
retirement: Yoko's husband, Minoru 
Arakawa, will probably take over at Nin- 
tendo, but there is no reason to believe 
that he will do so before the late 
Nineties. Yamauchi isn't ready to give up 
control to anyone. 


All successful men have enemies and 
Yamauchi has more than most. His dom- 
inance of the industry has been so un- 
questioned that he’s been able to exer- 
ase his power without much subtlety. 
Some toy stores depended on Nintendo 


for up to 20 percent of their sales, which 
allowed Nintendo to engage in question- 
able tactics. “You did what they 
says an executive of a chain of stores. 
“They told you not to carry the competi- 
tion, you didn’t carry the competition. 
They told you not to discount, you didn’t 
discount.” The head of one software 
firm told The American Lawyer that he 
had been “at numerous meetings of con- 
spirators” who wanted to fight Ninten- 
do, but they all “chickened out.” 

As a result, Nintendo has been able 
to sell more than 50 million systems 
throughout the world. There is one sold 
for every third American home. Around 
the world, families with Nintendo sys- 
tems have bought an average of 6 to 12 
games, about 600 million of them. For 
each of the last three fiscal years, Nin- 
tendo made more than a billion dollars a 
year in before-tax profits. 

The list of Yamauchi's enemies grew 
long, and inevitably some began to strike 
back. Nintendo was unsuccessfully sued 
for monopolizing the market. In con- 
gressional hearings, Nintendo was ac- 
cused of price-fixing. The Justice De- 
partment began ап investigation, as 
did the Federal Trade Commission. 
Yamauchi succeeded, charged one com- 
petitor suing Nintendo, “through a de- 
liberate campaign of distortion, intimi- 
dation and coercion.” 


In collaboration with the attorneys 
general of several states, the FTC began 
its investigation into the price-fixing 
charges and the implications of Ninten- 
do's strong-arm tactics, particularly 
control over those companies allowed to 
create games for the Nintendo Enter- 
tainment System. The high-stakes inves- 
tigations and lawsuits—in one suit, more 
than half a billion dollars was on the 
line—dragged on for more than a year. 

In Redmond, Washington, executives 
of Nintendo’s American subsidiary were 
worried. If Nintendo lost the lawsuits, 
the company’s continued dominance in 
the U.S. was questionable, Back in 
Japan, however, Yamauchi remained 
calm. For him, the FTC, the antitrust 
laws and the lawsuits were "an inconve- 
nience" that went vith the territory. Y: 
mauchi didn't ignore the potential 
aster. It prompted him to look hard 
at markets that could replace America 
if the worst happened. Nintendo had al- 
ready planned to intensify its push into 
Europe, but the trouble in the U.S 
caused Yamauchi to expedite а Euro- 
pean invasion. Nintendo would be pre- 
pared if any portion of the American 
gold mine were to be denied. "We do not 
see borders in this business," Yamauchi 
says. "Some countries may be too poor 
or have heavy tariffs on imports, but with 
those exceptions we will go anywhere in 


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for information, 800-421-1404. “Radios 
Wise Up”: RDS car stereos: By Blaupunkt, 
for information, 800-955-2528. By Philips, 


department stores. Shirt by 
Edwin Jeans, at Sweatique, Broadway Mall, 
Hicksville, NY, 516-932-8984. Shorts by 
DKNY, at Macy's and Bullock's. Eyewear by 
Calvin Klein, for information, 800-544- 
1336. Page 89: Vest by DKNY, at Liberty 
House, Ala Moana Shopping Center, Hon- 
olulu, HI, 808-945-5735. Shirt by Reunion 
Menswear, at fine department stores. Shorts 
by Calvin Klein, at fine department stores. 
Page 90: Sport shirt and shirt from Polo 
by Ralph Lauren, at Polo Ralph Lauren, 
867 Madison Ave., N.Y.C., 212-606-2100. 
Shorts from Folo by Ralph Lauren, at Polo 
Ralph Lauren, 444 N. Rodeo Dr, Beverly 
Hills, 310-281-7200. Page 91: Vest by Calvin 
Klein Jeans, at fine department stores. Shirt 
From Basco by Lance Karesh, at Barneys New 
York, Seventh Ave. at 17th St., N.Y.C., 212- 
929-9000. Shorts by Guess Men, at Straw- 
bridge & Clothiers, Market East at 8th, 
Philadelphia, PA, 215-629-6000. Page 92: 
Sneakers by G.H. Bass, at fine department 
stores. Vest by Hugo Boss, at Silhouette, 
1201 Connecticut Ave., Washington, DC, 
202-887-5081. Sport shirt from Colours by 
Alexander Julian, at fine department stores. 
Shorts by Scout America Denim, at fine de- 
partment stores. Sunglasses by Oliver Peo- 
ples, at Morgenthal-Fredrics, 685 Madison 
Ave., N.Y.C., 212-838-3090. Watch by TAG- 
Heuer, for information, 800-321-4832. Page 
93: Shirt by Sassafras and Chino, at fine spe- 
cialty stores. Vest by Island Trading Co., at 15- 
land Trading Co., 15 E. 45th St, N.Y.C., 
212-353-0297. Shorts by J.O.E., at the 
Joseph Abboud Store, 37 Newberry St, 
Boston, 617-266-3933. Sandals by Birken- 
stock, for information, 800-1Ts-BIRK. 


PLAYBOY ON THE SCENE 

Page 181: Remote controls: VCR Voice by 
Voice Powered Technology, for information, 
BOO-vcR-rALK. Palm-Mate by Go-Video, to 
order or for mformation, 800-279-1600. 
One for All Big Easy by Universal Eleciron- 
ics, for information, 800-394-3000. PRM-1 
PenRemote by Mitsubishi, for information, 
714-220-2500. Fox 800 by Fox Electronics, 
for information, 800-229-7892. 


the world. There are no borders.” 

Yamauchi has remained consistently 
and entirely unrepentant, even when 
Nintendo of America entered into a set- 
tlement with the FTC on the price-fixing 
charges. No guilt was admiued, of 
course—Yamauchi continued to deny 
any wrongdoing and never backed down 
on his most-restrictive controls. Ya- 
mauchi also tenaciously fought the law- 
suits with the biggest hired guns he 
could find. In 1991 Nintendo of Ameri- 
ca spent $20 million on lawyers. (Al- 
though many of the lawsuits remain un- 
resolved, in December 1992, the FTC 
dropped its investigation into Ninten- 
do's possibly monopolistic business prac- 
tices without taking action.) 

Sull, Nintendo was vulnerable, and its 
weakness appeared in the most unlikely 
arena—the marketplace. 

Sega never was a threat as far as Ya- 
mauchi was concerned. The $700 mil- 
lion Japanese company—founded, iron- 
ically, by an American—had a reasonably 
successful history in the video-arcade 
business in Japan and in the U.S. But it 
seemed too small and too specialized to 
make inroads into Nintendo's vast con- 
sumer business. Sega had released the 
Master System as а competitor to the 
Famicom and the Nintendo Entertain- 
ment System, but it never gained more 
than five percent of the market. Like 
many other companies, it failed to break 
Nintendo's lock on the industry. 

Tn a rare lapse of judgment, Yamauchi 
continued to underestimate Sega. When 
Sega launched a more powerful game 
system, Genesis, in 1989, Nintendo was 
caught flat-footed. Genesis had the ca- 
pacity to generate great graphics, anima- 
tion and near-CD-quality sound, and the 
company had a proven software catalog 
of Sega's arcade hits. The company at- 
tacked Nintendo head-on. sEGA GENESIS 
DOES WHAT NINTENDONT, its slogan read. 

Genesis was a bestseller, and Sega 
dramatically cut into Yamauchi's market. 
share. An angry Yamauchi fought back 
in 1991 with the Super Nintendo Enter- 
tainment System, а machine as powerful 
as Genesis. 

A mammoth marketing campaign 
launched the SNES, and while the new 
system began to recapture some of the 
video-game market lost to Sega, the 
damage had been done. Yamauchi had 
made а major blunder by not coming 
out with a more powerful machine in 
tme to stunt Sega's growth. Nintendo 
now has to coexist with a viable com- 
peutor in the marketplace, a company 
that will get a fair share of the $10 
billion-plus that consumers will spend 
on video games in 1993 and the esca- 
lating amounts predicted for the follow- 
ing years. 


Sega was only the first of Yamauchi's 


worries. The video-game industry is 


changing quickly, and Nintendo's fate 
rests less on its past and more on how 
Yamauchi adjusts to the future. 

New technology will bring together 
such media as television, video games, 
stereo and the VCR in combination with 
a CD-ROM and a central processor. Oth- 
er components can be added, such as a 
digital photograph reader or printer. A 
cable-television receiver—one that can 
manage and search through thousands 
of cable stations —will also be incorporat- 
ed. Key to these innovations, however, 
will be the TV screen and the computer, 
the clearinghouse of the huge amouni 
of audio and video information that wil 
allow people to interact with it all 

"The Super Nintendo Entertainment 
System was designed to power such a 
multimedia system. If all goes according 
to plan, Yamauchi's video-game system 
could transform into a multiuse, multi- 
purpose home computer, the first truly 
pervasive home computer for the mass 
market. The potential market for such 
systems is enormous. There arc 300 mil- 
lion television sets in 
Yamauchi has his way, there could be 
several hundred million Nintendo ma- 
chines in homes throughout the world, 
all running Nintendo-made or -con- 
trolled software. 

Alhough companies such as Apple, 
IBM, Sony, Matsushita, Philips, Fujitsu 
and Microsoft are also scheming to get 
shares of this market, Hiroshi Yamauchi 
daringly announced early on that Nin- 
tendo would define the home-entertain- 
ment-system industry of the future. The 
move, he said, was the company's “bold- 
est departure yet from the antiquated 
perception of video-game technology. 
Companies such as IBM, Apple, Mat- 
sushita and Sony are cach struggling to 
become the company of the future, the 
kind Nintendo already is: both a hard- 
ware and software company.” Indeed, 
when Apple president Michael Spindler 
was asked in March 1991 which comput- 
er company Apple feared most, he 
quickly answered, “Nintendo.” 

Yamauchi kicked the pace into over- 
drive by mid-1992 by revving up the 
push to sell the SNES. He also directed a 
heightened drive to do what Nintendo 
had done better than anyone else in the 
past—create games that would keep its 
fans, and new generations of fans, in- 
trigued. To that end, Yamauchi in- 
creased the research budget to explore 
the future of video games and multime- 
dia. He also entered into secret alliances 
with technology companies and negoti- 
ated with entertainment companies for 
licenses based on Nintendo characters 
and stories. “The geniuses in our com- 
pany can create software that children 
will love. That is how we will succeed. 
‘That is why people will buy the system 
Once they have it, they will want new 
kinds of software. We will provide it or 
license it,” says Yamauchi proudly. “It 


the world. If 


will mean that Nintendo will remain at 
the center of the home-entertainment 
industry as it transforms." 

He readied a CD-ROM attachment to 
the SNES (he tentatively plans a 1993 
launch). He also worked with Philips 
and Sony, two of the largest consumer- 
electronics companies in the world, to 
create a format that could become the 
standard for the industry. Nintendo, in a 
hard-fought battle with these two com- 
panies, gained the right to control the 
licensing of game software. which could 
y be worth hundreds of billions 
of dollars. 

Once again, Nintendo's immediate 
competition comes from Sega. Its CD- 
ROM player is already on the market. 
‘The initial price tag of $300 kept most 
consumers away, but Sega again beat 
Nintendo to the punch. Other CD- 
ROMs came out that played both com- 
pact discs and cartridge-based game: 
and there were stand-alone machines on 
the market by Commodore (CDTV) and 
Philips (CD-1). 

The Nintendo machine, being created 
in partnership with Sony, will be more 
powerful than most systems in the con- 
sumer market, built around a 32-bit 
processor (which has twice the power of 
most competitors’). V that and the 
company's marketing strength, Ninten- 
do might well be the one to create the 
standard—a standard that Yamauchi will 
control. Imagine if one company earned 
money not only on every VCR sold but 
on all the videotapes sold or rented 
as well. 

Last year was the video-game indus- 
try's biggest yet, with Nintendo hol 
on to its considerable share of the overall 
market and pulling ahead of Sega Gene- 
sis with the SNES. It is now ready to йо 
battle for the multimedia market. Re- 
markably, the most significant attempts 
to stop Yamauchi have thus far failed. 
The threats to his dominance in the 
American market are evaporating one 
by one, and the European invasion has 
begun. “No one can stop us,” he says. 

“Many companies would like to surpass 
us. If they are at war with Nintendo, we 
are ready, They will not damage us. It is 
inevitable in our position that people try 
to harm us and exceed us, but the at- 
tempts will fail. Nintendo will continue 
to become strong 

Expanding beyond traditional video 
games is essential, Yamauchi insists. "We 
learned our lesson from Atari, once the 
leader in the world," he says. “We are 
able to understand very clearly why 
4. No toy company ever be: 
truly big and great company by 
ng a toy company We have 
much more ambition than that. As the 
lines that limited video-game companies 
in the past disappear, Nintendo will play 
a larger role in the world." 


ERI 


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REMOTE POSSIBILITIES 


ook alive, couch potatoes. Easy-to-use remote controls for 
your home entertainment center are sprouting up every- 
where and, no, the instruction manuals that come with 
them aren't the size of the Manhattan telephone directory. 
Some remotes, such as Universal Electronics” Big Easy, consolidate 
all your video controls into one no-brainer unit with oversized but 


tons. Others are more sophisticated. The Fox 800, for example, 
has only ten buttons and a touch-screen display, yet it will operate 
up to eight audio and video components. Go-Video's Palm-Mate 
literally fits in your palm. And the VCR Voice is a universal re- 
mote that responds to voice commands from several people. Sor- 
гу, guys, it doesn't open the fridge door when you want a beer. 


Below, left to right: Control your TV, VCR and cable box audibly with VCR Voice, a remote that can program up to 15 separate events, by Voice 
Powered Technology, $170. The palm-sized Palm-Male has a multidirectional beam for slapshot aiming, by Go-Video, $60. Big buttons are on 


Universal Electronics’ One For АЙ Big Easy remote, $30. Mitsubi: 


i's pen-sized PRM-1 PenRemoti 


designed to be a backup to a full-featured 


one, $50. The Fox 8007$ touch-screen window provides access to more than 200 remote-control functions, by Fox Electronics, $100. 


— —M— -- 


Where & How to Buy on page 178. 


GRAPEVINE 


Cindy and Claudia Do Lingerie З 


What do two of the most beautiful supermodels in the world do for fun? They don 
Karl Lagerfeld corsets and bras and take a walk down the runway exposing their 
considerable charms. CINDY CRAWFORD (below) is the hostess of MTV's House of 
Style and is working on a series of celebrity interviews for Fox TV. CLAUDIA 
SCHIFFER (right) has been hanging out with Prince Albert of Monaco, but that 
hasn't stopped her from making a new calendar for us commoners. These beau- 
ties are more than skin deep, and smart right to the bone. 


The Jones Boys 

Remember when John Lennon said the Beatles were 

more popular than Jesus? Check the charts—it’s not true 

anymore. The hot techno-punk band JESUS JONES is on tour 

now and will be again in the fall. Catch them live, then listen 

182 to Perverse, a worthy successor to Doubt. No doubt. 


Sheer Gear 
Actress and model DEBORAH STEVENS pused fora 
book of photos by director David Lynch. You've seen 
her on Baywatch and the Playboy Channel. Stay tuned. 


Out oí Control 


Ш Sides to Every Story is EXTREME's most re- 
cent gold LP. Perhaps you caught them on 
their recent world tour, If not, don't despair. 
Crank up the music and go to extremes. 


апа 

Сгасе 
ALICIA VELGOS 
has plenty to 
smile about, 
from feature 
films Ruby, Bad 
Influence and 
Heat to TV roles 
in Coach, Red 
Shoe Diaries 
and Doogie 
Howser, M.D. 
(doing stunts, 


no less). The 
teddy doesn’t 
hurt, either. 


Can the Blues 
Save the Greens? 

Just what the doctor ordered: RY COODER, 
JOHN LEE HOOKER and ROBERT CRAY (left 
to right) were singing the blues about the 
environment to raise money for science 
scholarships at the University of California. 
They know about the birds and the bees. 


ANIMAL ACT 


1f you and your sexy girl- 
friend are itching to get into 
the swing of things and play 
Tarzan and Jane, but neither 
of you has a thing to wear, 
we have just the outfits. 
"They're a nonallergenic 
faux snow leopard men's 
pouch (it resembles a fuzzy 
jockstrap) and matching 
G-string and bra bikini (pic- 
tured here) that are avail- 
able in one-size-fits-all. (Re- 
lax, ecologists, nothing died 
зо that these garments 
could cover your and your 
Jane's hides.) Everything is 
lined in satin and washable. 
То order, call the Playboy 
Catalog at 800-423-9494 
and ask for item number 
QC 4225. (Sorry, the outfits 
come only as a set and can't 
be separated.) The price: 
$45, postpaid. And for an- 
other $14, you can really 
bring out the animal in you 
both with item number QC 
4226, a fake leopard-skin 
massage mitt. Yes, the claws 
have been removed. 


HOT PROSPECTS 


Anyone can track who's doing what in the Show. But how about Ray 
McDavid, a Padres wanna-be, or Cliff Floyd, a Montreal Expos hope- 
ful? Turns out they're hot, which you'd know if you read The Prospects 
Report. It's an eight- to 12-page quarterly newsletter that includes stats 
on top rookie batting prospects and pitching up-and-comers, along 
with interviews, scouting reports, hot rumors and other information 
that will appeal to both hard-core hardball junkies and dedicated 
armchair athletes. Thom Henninger, Prospects editor, also points out 
that the publication improves the odds for fantasy-league-baseball play- 
ers as well as card collectors looking for a hot rookie whose first-year 
baseball card might someday be worth megabucks. The Prospects Report 
184 costs $15 a year sent to PO. Box 6193, Evanston, Illinois 60204. 


POTPOURRI 


SWING TIME 


Looking for personal instruction by Fred 
Couples on tempo, Chi Chi Rodriguez on 
short game or Tom Kite on wedge play? 
Check out Golflix, a battery-powered 
8mm movie viewer housing a 30-second 
continuous film loop showing six swings 
by these and other famous golfers. Fur- 
thermore, the loop can 

be played in real time ji, 

or frame-by-frame. The ( 

price: $19.95 for the 

viewer and the Fred 

Couples loop; $7.95 for 

each additional loop. Call 718-258- 
7033 for more information. 


IT'S IN THE CAN 


We've all had nights that went into the 
dumper, but for $49.95 you can now 
have an intimate evening in a can. That's 
the price that Creative Gift Baskets 
charges for its sealed three-pound Inti- 
mate Evening can filled with such sexy 
goodies as body oil, bubble bath, an adult 
card game, chocolate cookies and love 
potions. To order: 800-678-6218. 


DRINKING TO ART 


Campari, the Italian aperitif 
company, has been commis- 
sioning artists to create Cam- 
pari-inspired works of art for 
almost a century. Now it's of- 
fering four 39" x 27” герго- 
ductions of some of the most 
popular posters for only 
$15.95 each, postpaid. (Pic- 
tured here is Spiritello by 
Leonetto Cappiello. Others 
include The Blue Skeptic, The 
Kiss and Men in the Café.) 
Checks should be sent to 
Campari USA, Inc., 55 East 
59th Street, New York 10022 
Not a bitter idea. 


WHOOPS, СОТТА GO 


Looking for a polite yet foolproof way to get oH the phone fast 
the next time your mother, boss or ex-wife calls when you have 
more important things on your mind? Order Gotta Go, a small 
battery-powered gizmo that hooks right onto your phone and 
simulates the clicking sound of someone on call waiting. Eclipse 
Products at 13 Grove Street, Darien, Connecticut 06820, sells 
Gotta Go for only $18.45, postpaid. 


TURN UP THE HEAT 


Discovery Records, a music 
company in Santa Monica, 
has just released Body Heat, а 
romantic CD containing re- 
recorded and rearranged 
sensual jazz themes from 11 
classic films. Body Heat, of 
course, is represented, as are 
Black Orpheus, Taxi Driver, 
Blade Runner and others. Fea- 
tured musicians include Jack 
Sheldon (trumpet) and Ernie 
Watts (tenor sax). Bill Cun- 
Jiffe (piano) is part of the 
band. The price: $17, post- 
paid, from Discovery at 800- 
377-9620. A catalog will set 
you back a buck. 


THE SKYLONDA'S THE LIMIT 


‘The Golden Door and La Costa, of course, are 
where the rich and famous go when they want 
to be pampered and pummeled. But now 
there's a new log-and-rock redwood forest re- 
treat, Skylonda, that's establishing its own style 
of sweat equity. Much of Skylonda's weeklong 
program of mental and physical renewal is cen- 
tered on hiking the nature trails which abound 
nearby. Indoor spa activities, such as a jacuzzi, 
aerobics and body wraps, are included in the 
$2520 a week double-occupancy price. Call 
800-851-2222 for reservations. 


LOOKING GOOD 


According to Random House, The Elegant Man 
by Riccardo Villarosa and Giuliano Angeli is a 
192-page "illustrated guide that presents every- 
thing a man needs to know to dress with time- 
less style and distinction." Chapters cover fab- 
rics, cut and tailoring, maintenance and care, 
special occasions and much more. Illustrations 
show garment by garment how to put together 
a great look that's uniquely you. The price: $35 
at your neighborhood bookstore. 


МЕХТ МОМТН 


BEYOND THE GRAVE 


GOLDEN GIRL LEWIS 


NECRONAUTS—LURED BY THE PROMISE OF REGAINING 
HIS SIGHT, A BLIND ARTIST JOURNEYS INTO THE WORLD 
BEYOND THE GRAVE—FICTION BY TERRY BISSON 


WITCHCRAFT—SHE LEFT HIS BED BUT STAYED UNDER 
HIS SKIN. SO WHAT'S A LOVE-OBSESSED GUY TO DO? 
DAN GREENBURG HEADS FOR THE EYE OF NEWT 


SCALIA THE TERRIBLE--JUSTICE ANTONIN SCALIA, 
RONALD REAGAN'S MAD-DOG LEGAL PURIST, HAS AS- 
TONISHED BOTH CONSERVATIVE AND LIBERAL COL- 
LEAGUES WITH HIS LITERAL VIEWS. CAN THE NATION'S 
HIGHEST COURT RECOVER?—A PLAYBOY PROFILE BY 
JOE MORGENSTERN 


BAMBI BEMBENEK IS A TABLOID DREAM. THE FORMER. 
PLAYBOY BUNNY CONVICTED OF KILLING HER HUSBAND'S 
EXWIFE ESCAPED FROM PRISON AND WENT ON THE LAM 
IN CANADA. PURSUED BY COPS. FANS AND HOLLYWOOD 
AGENTS, BAMBI THE DOF-EYED FUGITIVE HAS BECOME А. 
MULTIMEDIA STAR—BY MARK JANNOT 


BARRY BONDS, THE HIGHEST-PAID OUTFIELDER IN THE 
MAJORS, HAS PLENTY TO SAY ABOUT HIS MULTIMILLION- 
DOLLAR CONTRACT, HIS FATHER. BOBBY. AND WHY НЕ 


BABES AT BERNIES 


CAN FEEL LIKE BOTH RAMBO AND DIANA ROSS—AN MVP 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW BY KEVIN COOK 


A-LOBSTERING WE WILL GO—THE BRINY DELIGHT OF 
THE DEEP IS A FEARSOME CREATURE WHO COMES FROM 
A DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY. ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW 
ABOUT LOBBY LORE—BY REG POTTERTON 


THE MYTH OF MALE POWER 一 INTHE FIRST OF TWO EX- 
CERPTS FROM HIS GROUND-BREAKING NEW BOOK, AU- 
THOR WARREN FARRELL USES HOME ECONOMICS TO 
PROVE THAT, ALONG WITH PAYING ALIMONY AND THE 
MORTGAGE, MEN ARE GETTING A BUM RAP 


THE PIOUS PEDOPHILE—TROUBLING REPORTS OF SEX 
ABUSE BY PRIESTS CAUSED AN OUTCRY OVER SILENCE 
WITHIN THE CHURCH. NOW THE REPORTER WHO BROKE 
THE STORY OF FATHER BRUCE RITTER TAKES A HARD 
LOOK AT HOW CELIBACY AND REPRESSION PRODUCE RE- 
LIGIOUS CHILD ABUSERS—BY CHARLES M. SENNOTT 


PLUS: GOLDEN CHILD CHARLOTTE LEWIS IN A GROWN- 
UP PICTORIAL; PLAYBOY'S GUIDE TO WAVE JUMPING; A 
SECOND WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S; AND AN HDTV UPDATE 


¡ Mild po! n 
8 


Taste Camel In а Whole New Light 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Cigarette 
Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide. 
11 mg. “tar”, 0.8 mg. nicotine av. per cigarette by FIC method. 


чпһагпеввеа Ё 5 


and 


.unchallenged, 


e 
Ar 一 


gives rise to. = 


perfection. 


. „Fresh, pure 


and natural.
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