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PLAYBOY 


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PLAYBILL 


FROM WHAT YOU SEE on the news, you might think that cops 
have become as corrupt and brutal as the criminals they've 
sworn to protect us against. So when New York City police 
officer Carol Shaya told us about the time she arrested a ma- 
chete-wielding madman, we were impressed. “I'm proud of 
what I do and of the way I look,” she told us. “I want people 
to see me in PLAYBOY and forget the stereotypes of female 
officers." With New York's Finest, shot by Contributing Photog- 
rapher Stephen Wayda, Shaya has gotten her wish. 

‘The NYPD has been keeping a close watch on Brooklyn— 
not for drug dealers or gangbangers but for terrorists. As — sENNOTT WOOLLEY 
Charles M. Sennott explains in Holy War in Brooklyn, Jews and 
Muslims have turned the neighborhood into a miniature Mid- 
dle East. Resident militants—including those linked to the 
World Trade Center bombing—appear to have a single goal: 
to undermine the Middle East peace process. 

What's it like to have your hormones in high gear at a time 
when having sex can be deadly? To get the scoop on what it’s 
like to be a teen in the age of AIDS, writer Betsy Israel put in 
some serious mall time with a group of young people. Their 
stories, as shared in Going All the Way (illustrated by Janet Wool- 
ley), range from riveting to disheartening. 

And speaking of disheartening, is the CIA as dense as it 
seems? Did Aldrich Ames—the guy who sold secrets to 
Moscow for nearly a decade—operate alone? Jeff Stein, an in- 
telligence officer turned journalist with firsthand experience 
with spies-gone-bad, tells us How Spies Die. It's a must-read. 

Deion Sanders seems to have managed his double life quite 
well. Besides shuttling between games for the Atlanta Falcons 
and the Braves, the crossover jock cut megabucks endorse- 
ment deals and his first rap album. Memorial Day weekend he 
was traded to the Reds. What drives Prime Time? Say hello to 
his superstar ego in this month’s interview by Kevin Cook. 

Ego seems to be the driving force behind Jack Kevorkian's as- 
sisted-suicide crusade as well. As Mark Jannot discovered in re- 
searching our Getting to Know Dr. Death, the doc and his attor- 
ney, Geoffrey Fieger, share a bit of a God complex. On a 
lighter note, actress Dana Delany may be starring as å domina- 
trix in her latest film, Exit to Eden, but she submitted to us—for 
20 Questions, that is. In a candid chat with Contributing Editor 
David Rensin, the reigning bondage queen of the big screen ex- 
plains S&M, G-strings and why girls read PLAYBOY. Another 
fan of the magazine, designer Laura Whitcomb, has turned the 
Playboy Rabbit into a symbol of postfeminist power. See Bun- 
ny Fashions 2000. 

Talk shows are taking over the tube. No matter when you 
tune in, there’s always some empathic host dishing out advice 
(and dirt) on life, love and men. For a lot of women—maybe 
even the ones you date—these shows are combat training. 
That's why we had Julie Rigby create A Man's Guide to TV Talk 
Shows (illustrated by Charles Burns). 

Putting a sexy, unnerving spin on TV gabfests in The Joe 
Show (illustrated by John Rush), fiction author Terry Bisson hints 
at what could happen when an extraterrestrial commandeers 
technology to get his moon rocks off. Meanwhile, Bob Shacochis 
defends some great sins in Drinking, Smoking and Screwing, a 
Mantrack guest essay and title of a book forthcoming from 
Chronicle Books. 

Wrapping things up right, we feature a stunning August 
Playmate, Colombian native Maria Checa; a tribute to the orig- 
inal blonde bombshell, Jean Harlow; and Viva Milan, a pictorial 
by Stephen Wayda shot in Italy’s fashion playground. In a 
word: Bellisima! 


JANNOT 


SHACOCHIS 
Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), August 1994, volume 41, number 8. 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, Iowa 51537-4007. E-mail: edit@playboy.com. 


PLAYBOY. 


vol. 41, no. 8—august 1994 CONTENTS FOR THE MEN'S ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE 
PLAYBILL. Uc ЖЕУ ТАН 5 
DEAR PLAYBOY Fre agere КЫП. 
PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS .......................... adhe 15 
MOVIES . BRUCE WILLIAMSON 17 
VIDEO ....... 19 
WIRED , 5 PEELE CECE SEE د‎ 20) 
STYLE, EE 22 
MUSIC, ADS OES E 24 
MEDIA . ..MARKEHRMAN 28 
BOOKS. . Sa = ІСНУ DIEHL, & AA 
MANTRACK .......... ee Куу же. ED 
DRINKING, SMOKING AND SCREWING- guest opinion .BOBSHACOCHIS 33 
FITNESS . e E Sod e ette Dr eec © NIKRAKAUER за 
MEN x Å £ ASA BABER 36 
WOMEN. . - INS Л EE г CYNTHIA HEIMEL 37 
THE PLAYBOY ADVISOR. . 39 
THE PLAYBOY FORUM å oo å 41 
REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK— opinion . . - ROBERT SCHEER 49 
PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: DEION SANDERS—candid conversation ....... 51 Rabe Ed 
HOLY WAR IN BROOKLYN—orticle . . . .........CHARIES M. SENNOTT 64 
NEW YORK'S FINEST—pictorial ......... UMEN S ? 68 
HOW SPIES DIE=årtide LE STEIN 76 
BUNNY FASHIONS 2000 : 3 78 
HARLOW—pictorial .. [rU UI аан MC EO 83 
GETTING TO KNOW DR. DEATH—playboy profile. eo MARKJANNOT — 86 
А MAN'S GUIDE TO TV TALK SHOWS .......... Е JULIE RIGBY 90 
ROLL ON, COLOMBIA—playboy's playmate of the month 94 REESE 
PLAYBOY'S PARTY JOKES—humor 106 " 
GOTCHA!—toys . . leeren ч ОКЕ ОТА. ME 108 
THE JOE SHOW—fiction TERRY BISSON 110 
PLAYBOY COLLECTION—modern living....... RE RE С 114 
GOING ALL THE WAY—artide ......................... “BETSY ISRAEL 120 
20 QUESTIONS: DANA DELANY. ess 122 
VIVA MILAN—pictorial . . x re cce TES 
WHERE & HOW TO BUY Ae c КОЛОС. ДОСУ 148 
PLAYBOY ON THE SCENE. sA ooo К ы aan 157 
COVER STORY 


NYPD Nude: This month, Carol Shaya, one of New York's finest, steps out 
of uniform and onto puysov’s pages in an arresting pictorial. Our cover was 
produced by Wes! Coost Pholo Editor Morilyn Grobowski, styled by Lone 
Coyle-Dunn and shot by Contributing Photographer Stephen Waydo. Alexis 
Vogel styled Corol's hair and makeup. If you're potrolling for this month's 
clue, you'll have to look a little lower to find the key to our Robbit's heart. 


TUB DE CONTENIDO NO 810808 FECHA 28 DE JULIO DE 1993. EXPEDIDOS POR LA COMISION CALIFICAQORA DE PUBLICACIONES Y REVISTAS ILUSTRADAS DEPENDIENTE OF LA SECRETARIA DE 


PRINTED IN U.S.A 


PLAYBOY 


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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 
JOHN REZEK assistant managing editor 


EDITORIAL 

ARTICLES: PETER MOORE, STEPHEN RANDALL edi- 
tors; FICTION: ALICE К. TURNER editor; FORUM: 
JAMES R. PETERSEN senior staff writer; MATTHEW 
CHILDS associate editor; MODERN LIVING: pavip 
stevens editor; BETH TOMKIW associate editor; 
STAFF: BRUCE KLUGER, BARBARA NELLIS associate 
editors; CHRISTOPHER NAPOLITANO assistant editor; 
DOROTHY ATGHESON publishing liaison; FASH- 
ION: HOLLIS WAYNE director; CARTOONS: 
MICHELLE URRY editor; COPY: LEOPOLD FROEHLICH 
editor; ARLAN BUSHMAN assistant editor; ANNE 
SHERMAN Copy associate; CAROLYN BROWNE senior 
researcher; LEE BRAUER, REMA SMITH. SARI WILSON 
researchers; CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: asa 
BABER, KEVIN COOK, GRETCHEN EDGREN, LAWRENCE 
GROBEL, KEN GROSS (automotive), CYNTHIA HEIMEL. 
WILLIAM J. HELMER. WARREN KALBAGKER. D. KEITH 
MANO, JOE MORGENSTERN, REG POTTERTON, DAVID 
RENSIN, DAVID SHEFF, DAVID STANDISH, MORGAN 
STRONG, BRUCE WILLIAMSON (movies) 


ART 
KERIG POPE managing director; BRUCE HANSEN. 
CHET SUSKI, LEN WILLIS senior directors; KRISTIN 
KORJENEK associate director; KELLY KORJENEK assis- 
tant director; ANN semi supervisor, keyline/ 
pasteup; PAUL т. CHAN, RICKIE GUY THOMAS art 
assistants 


PHOTOGRAPHY 

MARILYN GRABOWSKI west coast editor; JEFF COHEN 
managing editor; JIM LARSON. MICHAEL SULLIVAN 
senior editors; PATTY BEAUDET associate editor; 
DAVID CHAN, RICHARD FEGLEY, ARNY FREYTAG. 
RICHARD IZUL DAVID MECEY, BYRON NEWMAN. 
POMPEO FOSAR. STEPHEN WAYDA contributing pho- 
tographers; SHELLEE WELLS stylist; TIM HAWKINS 
photo librarian 


MICHAEL PERLIS publisher 
IRWIN KORNFELD associate publisher 


PRODUCTION 
MARIA MANDIS director; RITA JOHNSON manager; 
JODY JURGETO, RICHARD QUARTAROLI, TOM SIMONEK 
‘associate managers 


CIRCULATION 
BARBARA GUTMAN subscription circulation director; 
LARRY A. DJERF newsstand sales director; CINDY 
RAKOWITZ Communications director 


ADVERTISING 
ERNIE RENZULLI advertising director; JAY BECKLEY 
national projects director; SALES DIRECTORS: KIM L 
PINTO eastern region; JODI L. GOSHGARIAN midwest- 
ern region; VALERIE CLIFFORD western region; MAR: 
KETING SERVICES: IRV KORNBLAU marketing direc- 
tor; LISA NATALE research director 


READER SERVICE 
LINDA STROM, MIKE OSTROWSKI correspondents 


ADMINISTRATIVE 
EILEEN KENT editorial services director; MARCIA 
TERRONES rights & permissions administrator 


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


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DEAR PLAYBOY 


ADDRESS DEAR PLAYBOY 
PLAYBOY MAGAZINE 
680 NDRTH LAKE SHORE DRIVE 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 60611 
FAX 312-649-9534 
EMAIL DEARPBGPLAYBOY CDM 


COVER LOVERS 
Congratulations on the sensational 
May cover. I have always enjoyed look- 
ing at a long-legged woman in sheer 
tights. Elle Macpherson is a thrill. 
Fred Hague III 
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 


Elle is fabulous. You have done a won- 
derful job capturing a mood. The look 
on her face drives me wild. 

Dustin Harrig 
harrig@hanover.edu 


I can't remember another time when 
Elle looked so hot. Herb Ritts is a master 
with a camera. Covers like this keep up 
my subscription renewals. 

Brian Mittelstadt 
Apple Valley, Minnesota 


ELLE, OUR BELLE 
I always write thank-you letters after 
receiving birthday presents. I celebrated 
my 21st birthday with your Elle Mac- 
pherson pictorial (Elle, May). I felt eu- 
phoric while gazing at Elle's absolute 
magnificence. Far better than my first le- 
gal beer. 
Derek Blomquist 
Providence, Rhode Island 


What an incredibly campy pictorial of 
Elle Macpherson. If I hadn't read the ar- 
ticle I wouldn't have known it was her. 
Where was the real Elle? 

W.K. Ogg 
St. Paul, Minnesota 


Thank you, thank you, thank you, 
thank you. Herb Ritts' talented camera- 
work has perfectly captured Elle's sensu- 
ality and class. 
David Lawson 
Brook Park, Ohio 


Asa model, Elle Macpherson is known 
for her natural appearance. Instead of 
playing to her strengths, Herb Ritts 


negates them. Now she looks like hell— 
not Elle. 
Win Pound 
Atlanta, Georgia 


Elle-lated is how I felt when I opened 
my May PLAYBOY. Elle Macpherson is 
simply incredible. 

Dwayne Nero 
New York, New York 


A note of thanks. The May issue 
caused a state of arousal in my lover that. 
was greater than he had ever experi- 
enced. Now I know why my mom re- 
newed my dad's subscription for all 
those years. 

Jean Morrison 
Riverview, Michigan 


RABBIT REDUX 
When our PLAYBOY arrives, my hus- 
band and I race to find the Rabbit on the 
cover. The May issue is ruining our mar- 
riage. It's in Elle's hair, but where? 
Jackie Burns 
Sausalito, California 
Let your eye drop to Elle's left shoulder. It's 
all in the curls. 


WHERE THERE'S SCHMOKE 
I've lived in Maryland for 20 years 
and have learned to read Roger Simon 
(Where There’s Schmoke, May) with a grain 
of salt. Kurt Schmoke didn't help carry 
the state for Clinton. Maryland is pre- 
dominantly Democratic and always has 
been. Schmoke is an articulate, intelli- 
gent man who loves Baltimore. He 
didn’t run for governor because he knew 
he would lose. And the NRA doesn't 
have Schmoke on a “hit list.” Simon just 
likes to needle the group. 
Mark Ryan 
Abingdon, Maryland 


I am very impressed with Kurt 
Schmoke. It's about time an elected 
official took a stand and admitted the 


MYSTERIOUS 


B E A u T Y 


Kinuko Craft has done hundreds of illus- 
trations for Playboy, often rendering mod- 
ern subjects in the styles of bygone mas- 
ters. Now you can own one of her most 
romantic and sensual images as a signed 
and numbered lithograph. Mysterious 
Beauty, which appeared in the June 
1982 issue of Playboy, cleverly juxtapos- 
es an ancient Japanese couple with con- 


temporary lovers who echo them in pose. 


THE ORIGINAL PRINT 
MEASURES 37%" X 30.” 
LIMITED TO 300 IMPRESSIONS, 
EACH IS SIGNED BY THE ARTIST. 
THE PRICE IS S100. 
SHIPPING IS $6.50, 

TO ORDER CALL 800.258.1995 
ASK FOR DEPT. 40051 AND. 
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(©1994 SPECIAL EDITIONS LTD. 


PLAYBOY 


war on drugs is lost. I hope his views 
persuade other government officials to 
consider legalization. 

Jeff Mills 

Newark, New Jersey 


BUNNY'S HONEYS 
Bunny's Honeys (May) brought back 
those thrilling days of yesteryear in nude 
photography, when PLAYBOY was a baby 
and people used Rolleiflex cameras. It's 
nice to know Bunny Yeager is still click- 
ing away. 
Robert Hanrahan 
Wilmington, Massachusetts 


Asa fan of classic pinup photography, 
I was happy to see the Bunny Yeager 
piece. Her choice to be both a model and 
a photographer conuibuted in large 
part to the pinup renaissance. 
Dennis Coyle 
Springfield, Pennsylvania 


"Thank you for the wonderful pictorial 
about me and my "honeys." I gota warm 
feeling remembering all the good times 
and the good people at PLavnoy. Don't 
forget—I haven't retired. I'm working in 
Miami, and if you can't find me at my 
studio, ГЇЇ be down at the beach pho- 
tographing another “hopeful.” 

Bunny Yeager 
Miami, Florida 


DIRTY PICTURES 
Congratulations to Lisa Palac for How 
Dirty Pictures Changed My Life (May). She 
made me feel a lot better about being a 
sexually curious female. 
Megan Switzer 
Salem, Oregon 


My mother taught me that all porn de- 
grades women, though she has seen little 
of it. I believed her until I watched my 
first erotic film. It changed my life, too. I 
hope Dirty Pictures will convince others. 
I'm giving it to my mother to read. 

‘Taliesin. Magboo Cahill 
uncahill@gwis.circ.gwu.edu 


Palac’s article was thought-provoking. 
Only a few years ago I was dismayed to 
learn that my boyfriend (now my hus- 
band) possessed a collection of PLAYBOY 
magazines. Today, we own a small cache 
of erotica that we enjoy together. In fact, 
I bought the May issue myself. In my ex- 
perience, erotic images do not exploit 
women but empower them. 

Karen Anderson 

Vancouver, B.C. 


MEN 
I request that PLAYBOY award Asa 
Baber an honorary doctorate for A Re- 
turn to Our Senses (May). His prescription 
for health, happiness and longevity is 
brilliant. 
Roy Thompson 
Stamford, Connecticut 


Hooray for Asa Baber. For years I 
have looked at my fellow men working 
out, abstaining from life’s joys and ask- 
ing forgiveness for being male. Bah, 
humbug! I have a fine woman, I'm a 
gourmet cook, I'll smoke a cigar and I 
love every second of my life. 

RJ. Brehm 
Waltham, Massachusetts. 


MISS MAY 
Shae Marks (On Your Marks, May) is 
simply delicious. 
Jim Dermatis 
Leominster, Massachusetts 


Shae Marks represents today's wom- 

an: intelligent, ambitious, self-confident. 
A. Steele 

Homestead, Florida 


I'm awestruck. Never, since I first stole 
a peek at my father's PLAYBOY when I was 


12, have I seen a Playmate as beautifulas 
Shae Marks. 


Joseph Siniscalchi 
Staten Island, New York 


WOMEN 
Cynthia Heimel’s May Women column, 
Power Envy, got me thinking. Is she ac- 
cusing all men? She doesn't speak for 
me. When a man stops thinking with his 
dick, he becomes truly interesting. But 
it seems to me that many women can't 
make up their minds what to do or be 
without group support. I'm willing to 
treat each woman I meet the way she 
wants to be treated as soon as she de- 
cides what she wants. 
H. Robert Schroeder 
Trenton, New Jersey 


Cynthia Heimel's May column is ex- 
cellent. Equality between the sexes will 


not be achieved through anger and bit- 
terness. The finger-pointing must stop. 
Damien Joly 
Nanaimo, British Columbia 


Heimel is correct in decrying the use 
of Lorena Bobbitt as an icon for the fem- 
inist brigade. There was something trou- 
bling about the group of supporters 
gathered in joyous defense of her act. 
John Kirkpatrick 
Tulsa, Oklahoma 


Do you know how many men have 
been genitally mutilated? Do you care? 
‘They aren’t mutilated like John Bobbitt, 
but by circumcision. With all the pain 
and trauma involved, it’s no wonder men 
are confused about sex and violence. 

Kevin Gosse 

Gays Mills, Wisconsin 


PLAYBOY'S ELECTRONIC LEXICON 
Jonathan Takiff’s definition of the 

digital compact cassette (Playboy's Elec- 
tronic Lexicon, May) is wrong. Any 
acoustician can tell you that the range of 
human hearing is between 20Hz and 
20Khz. Even though most urban 
dwellers have lost a lot of hearing at the 
high end of this spectrum, DCCs are not 
an improvement on the modern analog 
format. The designers have eliminated 
much of the upper harmonics because 
most people can’t hear them. This is 
comparable to playing only three notes 
of a chord on an instrument that 
Tequires four. It impacts the timbre of 
the music. 

Mitchell Rogers 

Prospect Heights, Illinois 


А NOTE FROM HOWARD'S TEACHER 
I was chairman of the journalism de- 
partment at Boston University when 
Howard Stern graduated. I was sur- 
prised to read in Howard's Playboy Inter- 
view (April) that he’s upset about the 
comments on obscenity that Boston Uni- 
versity President John Silber made on 
Nightline. Dr. Silber said clearly that 
“Howard Stern can, as far as I'm con- 
cerned, do anything he wants to do.” I 
was also astonished to read Howard's de- 
scription of a homosexual encounter he 
would like to have with Silber (who was 
criticized by gays throughout his 1990 
gubernatorial campaign as being unsym- 
pathetic to their cause). Howard seemed 
like such a nice boy 20 years ago. 
Professor James Brann 
Boston, Massachusetts 


THE WORLD OF PLAYBOY 
It was just another dreary day on the 
Hudson River until your May issue ar- 
rived. I was left with a bad case of spring 
fever. Things are looking up- 
Peter Decker 
Coxsackie, New York 


CAUTION: BUMPS AHEAD. 


THE SMOOTH GIN IN THE guMPY 


Have you noticed all your 
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For a great smoke, just wing it. 


BENSON & HEDGES 100’ 
THE LENGTH YOU GO TO FOR PLEASURE 


Finally, a welcome sign for people who smoke. 
Call 1-800-494-5444 for more information. 


© Fhiip Moms inc. 994 
15 mg "tar; 11 mg nicotine av. per cigarette by FTC method. 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Smoking 


Causes Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, 
Emphysema, And May Complicate Pregnancy. 


PLAYBOY AFTER HOURS 


INTERDICKED 


Most of us think ofthe Internet as our 
friend, but some are a bit more enam- 
ored. Recently, one of the most popular 
messages circulating on the Net—posted 
by a woman—explained “Why the Inter- 
net Is Like a Penis.” A sampling: 

It can be up or down. It's more fun 
when it's up, but hard to get any real 
work done. 

If you don’t apply protective mea- 
sures, it can spread viruses. 

It has no brain of its own. Instead, it 
uses—and confuses—yours. 

We attach an importance to it that is 
far greater than its actual size and 
influence warrant. 

If you're not careful, it can get you in 
big trouble. 

Some people have it, some don't. 

People who have it would be devastat- 
ed if it were cut off—and they think 
those who don't have it want it. 

People who don't have it may agree 
that its a nifty toy but think it's not 
worth the fuss made about it. 

Once you've started playing with it, it's 
hard to stop. Some people would play 
with it all day if they didn’t have to work. 


REALITY CHECKS 


We've noticed that bank checks have 
not been immune to the push toward 
personalization—in fact, many compa- 
nies now offer a number of styles. How- 
ever, we were surprised when we saw the 
selection of checks by Rosencrantz and 
Guildenstern Banknote. Our favorites 
include the Edvard Munch Scream mod- 
el, the repeating skulls motif (perfect for 
buying Grateful Dead tickets) and the 
Vultures model, which would work nice- 
ly for tax payments. 


TALK-ABOUT DOWN UNDER 


Australia has never been known for 
restraint—either in its bars or in its par- 
liament. Unlike members of the U.S. 
Congress, who refer to one another as 
learned colleagues, Australian M.Ps are 
a good deal more inventive. Among the 
recent epithets hurled in the chambers: 


perfumed gigolo, brain-damaged, har- 
lot, sleazebag, scumbag, mental patient 
and dog's vomit. 


San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb. 
Caen reports that a Portland, Oregon 
New Age foot-massage parlor is called 
Hannah and Her Blisters. 


BAKED HAM (ROASTED, TOO) 


We love understatement: At the Amer- 
ican Film Institute's Lifetime Achieve- 
ment Award ceremony honoring Jack 
Nicholson, Warren Beatty noted that 
Nicholson "will go to great lengths to be 
ina good mood." 


FLIRTY FIAT BACKFIRES 


In a recent advertising campaign, Ital- 
ian carmaker Fiat mailed 50,000 letters 
to women across Spain. The letters of- 
fered a flurry of compliments to the 
women, followed by an invitation to have 
a "little adventure" because, the letter 
continued, “we met again on the street 
yesterday and I noticed how you glanced 


ILLUSTRATION BY PATER SATO 


interestedly in my direction.” Six days 
later, a follow-up letter revealed the 
writer to be the new Fiat Cinquecento. 
However, not everyone took the cam- 
paign with good cheer. El Pais, a Spanish 
newspaper, reported that several women 
felt sufficiently threatened to lock them- 
selves in their apartments because they 
believed they were being stalked. Anoth- 
er newspaper, El Mundo, reported that 
the solicitations provoked jealous scenes 
between husbands and wives. Fiat 
stopped the campaign and apologized 
after it received protests from consumer- 
protection groups. A spokesman for Fiat 
defended the mailer by saying, “We 
thought it was a fun campaign aimed 
at the independent, modern working 
woman.” 


LIQUID SKY 


The Air Force admitted that it once 
again has lost an F-16 (cost: $18 million) 
because the pilot was unable to fly the 
aircraft while using the piddle pack—a 
device designed for in-flight urination. 
The previous incident was in March 
1991. In both instances. the air jocks 
were able to eject safely. 


CAN'T BEAT THE BANG 


Sky & Telescope magazine held a contest 
to come up with a more felicitous term 
for the beginning of the universe than 
Big Bang. After poring over 10,660 sug- 
gestions, including such engaging names 
as Hot Hurl, Bursting Star Sack, Let 
There Be Stuff, Hey Looky There at 
That, Doink and Bob, the SeT judges 
decided to stick with the original. 


BUTTMAN AND THE QUAKERS 


One industry that did not escape dis- 
ruption from the Los Angeles earth- 
quake was the X-rated-video business, 
situated predominantly in the San Fer- 
nando Valley. Apparently, video produc- 
tion suffered extensive damage. More 
than 80 percent of the nation’s porno- 
graphic features comes out of the valley's 
35 or so major producers and distribu- 
tors; most were within a five-mile radius 


16 


RAW DATA 


FACT OF THE 
MONTH 

Welcome to 
Dodge City: There 
are as many hand- 
guns in New York 
City—1.7 million— 
as cars. 


QUOTE 

“You know, a long 
time ago being crazy 
meant something. 
Nowadays every- 
body's crazy."— 
CHARLES MANSON, 
FEELING ANONYMOUS, 
DURING AN INTERVIEW. 
WITH DIANE SAWYER ON Turning Point 


COLIN CHECK 
Percentage of Americans who think 
Colin Powell is a Republican: 36; per- 
centage who think he is a Democrat: 
16; percentage who say they don't 
know: 46. (Powell has not divulged 
his political affiliation.) 


GOOD SMOKES, EH? 

Before the recent reduction in the 
Canadian cigarette tax, proportion of 
Canadian smokers who bought boot- 
leg cigarettes: I in 3. Proportion of 
cigarettes sold in Canada that were 
bootleg: I in 4. Former cost of a legal- 
ly purchased carton of cigarettes in 
Canada: $45. Former cost of a boot- 
leg carton: $15 to $20. Population of 
Cornwall, Ontario: 47,000. Estimated 
number of cigarette cartons that were 
being smuggled into Cornwall daily: 
50,000. 


DEGREES OF SEPARATION 
Percentage of American adults with 
a high school diploma: 75; percent- 
age with bachelor’s degrees: 13; per- 
centage with graduate degrees: 7. 


GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT 

Median full-time weekly earn- 
ings—in 1982 dollars—for American 
workers aged 20 to 24 in 1989: $215; 
earnings for the same group in 1993: 
$199. Number of college grads work- 
ing as street vendors or door-to-door 
salespeople in 1983: 57,000. Number 
in 1990: 75,000. Number of truck or 


bus drivers with col- 
lege degrees in 1983: 
99,000; number in 
1990: 166,000. 


DEERLY DEPARTED 
Number of deer 
reported killed by 
hunters in Wisconsin 
in a year: 270,000; 
number of deer 


killed by cars: 
37,000. 
PASTA AND FUTURE 


According to the 
Restaurant Consult- 
ing Group, percent- 
age increase in the number of restau- 
rants in the U.S. from 1985 to 1993: 
12; percentage increase in number of 
Italian restaurants: 135. Number of 
Olive Garden franchises in 1982: 2; in 
1994; 432. 


A SPY IN EVERY JOHN 

According to a survey of 10,000 
companies by the American Manage- 
ment Association, percentage that 
drug-tested employees in 1987: 21; 
percentage in 1993: 85. 


GAY EDGAR DISAPPROVER 
Of 15 FBI job applicants since 1985 
who were suspected of being homo- 
sexual, number who were hired: 0. 


WASTE OF ENERGY 

From 1991 to 1993, legal fees paid 
by the U.S. Department of Energy to 
private law firms to challenge eight 
lawsuits filed by workers and civilians 
who contend that they were harmed 
from exposure to radiation: $47 mil- 
lion. Percentage of its total legal fees 
that the Department of Energy spent 
in challenging these lawsuits: 50. 


GENDER MOMENTS 
In a recent survey, percentage of 
Americans who say it's the man's re- 
sponsibility to propose marriage: 82; 
percentage who say men should pay 
for the first date: 82; percentage 
who say men should ask for the first. 
date: 77. Percentage who are im- 

pressed with punctuality: 52. 
— PAUL ENGLEMAN 


of the quake's epicenter. While religious 
fanatics may think that the quake was 
God's way of telling the producers to 
dean up their acts, Mark Kernes, man- 
aging editor of the trade magazine Adult 
Video Neus, said, "It probably slowed 
them down about a week." 


HOUSE CALLS 
Dial-a-Diagnosis: The Medical Infor- 


mation Line, a new nationally advertised 
900 number, is a touch-tone directory 
for what ails you. For $1.95 a minute, 
those too shy to consult a doctor can ac- 
cess messages on 354 health-related top- 
ics. Although there's nothing titillating 
about the messages, an exasperated 
spokesman says the subject most people 
want to know about is masturbation. 


We suppose it’s a question of how 
much you want the job. Some hot work 
advice in a recent issue of The Wall Street 
Journals National Business Employment 
Weekly came under the headline How 
GREAT CANDIDATES BLOW JOB INTERVIEWS. 


A NUT WITH BOLTS 


Fashion designer Oribe Canales is 
back at work at Elizabeth Arden studios 
in New York after a one-week stay at a 
Minnesota rehab clinic. He went there 
after smearing models with blue paint 
just as they were going on the runway. 
The eerie Canales is defiant about his ac- 
tions: “It was genius. My interpretation 
was Hiroshima—and that radiation can 
be beautiful.” 


CRIMINAL STUPIDITY 


In Fort Lauderdale, accused murder- 
er Donald Leroy Evans petitioned the 
court to refer to him in all legal docu- 
ments by “the honorable and respected 
name of Hi Hitler.” Courthouse employ- 
ees told the Associated Press that Evans 
didn't realize the salutation was actually 
“Heil Hitler.” 


HEIDI SALAMI 


According to the program for the 
Third International Symposium on Cir- 
cumcision held at the University of 
Maryland, one of the lead speakers, 
Dr. Paul Fleiss, gave an address titled 
“Care of the Intact Penis.” Perhaps 
you've heard of Dr. Fleiss’ daughter, Hei- 
di, whose appearances in the news sug- 
gest that she’s also versed in the subject. 


The California Motor Vehicle Depart- 
ment lost a hearing on its claim that the 
vanity plates of Bruce Deam, a female 
federal geology researcher and cat lover, 
were offensive. Since 1973 her plates 
have read A pussy. 


Introducing 


the body collection 


ESGARE 


for men 


О al blæmingdole's 


MOVIES 


By BRUCE WILLIAMSON 


TEEMING WITH the life of the barrio in a 
Los Angeles neighborhood known as 
Echo Park, Mi Vida Loca (Sony Classics) 
wrings poetry from poverty and ethnic 
angst. In a follow-up to Gas, Food, Lodg- 
ing, writer-director Allison Andcrs focus- 
es on the homegirls whose homeboys are 
soon likely to face long prison terms or 
death. Beautiful Giggles (Marlo Mar- 
ron), just out of jail herself, smirks when 
an admirer promises to take care of her. 
“The last man who said that to me is 
dead,” she tells him. The way Giggles 
and her sisters look at it, “Guys come 
and go—they ain't worth it.” Two friend- 
ly rivals known as Sad Girl (Angel Aviles) 
and Mousie (Seidy Lopez) bear children 
fathered by Ernesto (Jacob Vargas), a 
strutting Romeo whose days are num- 
bered. Drugs, cars and sex color every 
conversation in a shifting narrative that 
brings a dozen characters up for close 
scrutiny. Like them or not, Mi Vida Loca 
(My Crazy Life) is a poignant and profane 
slice of street theater. ¥¥¥/2 


Gerald (Adrian Pasdar) gets the 
heave-ho from his wife when she comes 
home from a trip to find their bedroom 
littered with someone else's lingerie. 
Though he misses his kids, Gerald 
moves to a rooming house owned by 
Monica (Julie Walters), an attractive old- 
er woman who comforts him abed but 
can't seem to keep him aboard. Finally, 
he confesses: "I'm a transvestite." Which 
explains to Monica why a strange 
woman has been sneaking into his room 
late at night. Egad, it's Gerald, aka. 
Geraldine. That's the gist of Just Like 
a Woman (Samuel Goldwyn), a brisk, 
trendy British comedy that treads a thin 
line between being somewhat silly and 
being decently civilized about a hetero- 
sexual male who feels at home wearing 
fishnet stockings and a garter belt. ¥¥ 


Some testy banter between Susan 
Sarandon and Tommy Lee Jones adds 
zip to The Client (Warner), a class-A screen 
adaptation of John Grisham's thriller. 
Sarandon is warmly sympathetic and 
convincing as a dogged Memphis law- 
yer—also a recovering alcoholic with a 
bumpy past—who frustrates federal 
prosecutor Jones in his efforts to force 
testimony from an 11-year-old witness to 
a suicide. The frightened boy in the case 
is played by Brad Renfro, a feisty discov- 
ery certain to snag future roles. Mary- 
Louise Parker, as his harried mom, adds 
to the authentic tone of director Joel 
Schumacher's suspense drama about 


Walters and Pasdar in Woman's wear. 


Homegirls hang in there, 
lawyers get some sympathy 
and a mama's boy has a ball. 


women in jeopardy and a kid pursued 
by hit men. Simultaneously scary and 
skillful, Client hits the ground running 
with the book’s major assets intact. ¥¥¥ 


Busy British actress Julie Walters, а 
1983 Oscar nominee for Educating Ri- 
ta, delivers another memorable perfor- 
mance in The Wedding Gift (Miramax). 
"Ieamed with Jim Broadbent, equally im- 
pressive as her loyal husband, Deric, 


Walters brings grit and wit to the tale of 


a woman stricken with a mysterious, de- 
bilitating illness. Joking about the doc- 
tors who order test after test but won't let 
her see her own medical records, she 
tells Deric, “Perhaps 1 should expose 
myself while you take the files.” Wedding 
Gift gets a bit precious when Walters, an- 
ticipating her own demise, arranges her 
husband's future with another woman 
(Sian Thomas, as a novelist who is blind, 
Kind and capable). Schmaltz and all, 
the movie is good-natured, upbeat and 


intelligent. ¥¥/2 
e 


If at first you succeed, you may be able 
to mine more big bucks from a sequel. 
‘Thereby hangs the tale of City Slickers И: 
The Legend of Curly’s Gold (Columbia), 
which brings back Billy Crystal and 
Daniel Stern as well as Jack Palance (his 
Oscar-winning Curly expired in the 
original City Slickers, so Palance now 
plays Curly’s twin). Palance hams with 


gusto, and Jon Lovitz joins the search 
for some buried treasure as Billy's ne'er- 
do-well kid brother. This time, Crystal 
carries a cellular phone on horseback, 
but he’s riding for a fall—thrown by a 
bone-tired screenplay and an eagerness 
to concoct an encore hit. V/% 


Few American males need to be re- 
minded that Spanking the Monkey (Fine 
Line) is a slang reference to masturba- 
tion. Sex figures strongly in writer-direc- 
tor David O. Russell's potent first fea- 
ture—memorable for its cool, dark 
humor, credibility and several top per- 
formances. Jeremy Davis, 23, sets the 
pace impressively as a wry college fresh- 
man named Raymond, stuck for the 
summer with his mother (Alberta Wat- 
son), who has broken her leg. His father 
(Benjamin Hendrickson) is a boorish, 
philandering control freak. His tentative 
moves on a nubile, inexperienced high 
school girl (Carla Gallo) leave him frus- 
trated, and he's locked in close quar- 
ters—too close, it turns out—with his at- 
tractive mother. She is a woman who 
finds little excitement in her own mar- 
riage but obviously gets a charge from 
her son’s stirring sexuality. Their inces- 
tuous impulses provoke the dramatic 
conclusion. The plot isn't new—Louis 
Malle shrugged off mother-son incest 
with a smile, in French, in the 1971 
Murmur of the Heart. But Russell warms 
to his subject with taste and insight, 
while Davis’ high-intensity performance 
proves that this boys momplex is no 
laughing matter. ¥¥¥ 


"Tis the season to play ball, and ште 
Big League (Columbia) stars Luke Ed- 
wards as a 12-year-old who inherits the 
Minnesota ‘Twins from his wealthy 
grandfather (Jason Robards). After Ro- 
bards strikes out permanently in the first 
reel, this amiable comedy has the same 
effect as hot dogs and cold beer on an af- 
ternoon at the Metrodome. Edwards is a 
boy thrust into a man’s world, while the 
Twins’ star first baseman (Timothy 
Busfield) dates his mom (Ashley Crow). 
Some real big-league names (Kevin El- 
ster, Wally Joyner and Lou Pinella 
among them) round out the opposition's 
roster. As summer movies go, score this 
one a modest single to left. ¥¥ 


Gay rights get a timely but bittersweet 
boost from Coming Out Under Fire (Zeit- 
geist Films), Arthur Dong's collage of old 
film clips and recent interviews based on 
Allan Berube's book of the same title 
(subtitled The History of Gay Men and 


Paxton: No false moves. 


F CAMERA 


He is supposed to keep mum 
about his role in James Cameron's 
True Lies—opposite Arnold 
Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee 
Curtis—which opens in mid-July. 
But Bill Paxton, 38, breaches his 
vow of secrecy to suggest: "This 
movie will be a blockbuster. My 
character is Simon, a guy who gets 
caught up in the nightmare of his 
own fantasies.” Paxton prefers to 
discuss his role in a previous 
Cameron epic, The Terminator. “1 
was the leader of a punk gang and 
got to say “Fuck you’ to Arnold.” 

Paxton has been having his say a 
lot since One False Move, the film 
noir sleeper that cinched his grow- 
ing reputation as “a weird guy.” 
He was slightly offbeat, certainly, 
in Aliens and Trespass, as well as in 
Boxing Helena, in which he played 
Sherilyn Fenn's lusty stud. "I love 
playing sexy tough guys. When 
those characters were fucking, 1 
thought of them as beautiful race- 
horses. I modeled my character af- 
ter Warren Beatty—sort of Sham- 
poo meets Jim Morrison.” 

One role he wanted and didn't 
get was Jim Morrison in The Doors. 
“People always tell me I look a lit- 
tle like him, and I was practically 
raised on the Doors. But I never 
get anywhere with Oliver Stone.” 

‘Texas-born Paxton, whose fa- 
ther ran a lumber company, began 
his career as a set dresser on Big 
Bad Mama, then made film shorts, 
selling one to Saturday Night Live 
before the acting bug bit him. “My 
parents now live in California, and 
I've been able to get small parts for 
my dad in three of my movies.” 
The father “of a beautiful son 
James,” Paxton met his English 
wife while making a movie. “I 
picked her up on a bus. She still 
looks good, the perennial ingenue." 

Paxton calls the movie world "2 
real crapshoot, but I've been 
lucky." Clearly on a roll, he adds: 
“Га like to be a leading man whil 
I still have my own teeth.” 


Women in World War II). Nine gay men 
and women who served Uncle Sam in 
the Forties tell how they weathered the 
days when they were labeled “perverts” 
and “undesirables.” Rare film footage 
covers everything from dated propagan- 
da shorts to the recent hearings that 
blushingly defined tolerance as a ‘don’t 
ask, don’t tell’ policy. Simultaneously sad 
and wickedly satirical, Coming Out is a 
message movie that delivers. ¥¥¥ 


The first of two French comedies di- 
rected by Alain Resnais, Smoking (Octo- 
ber Films), will be followed by a compan- 
ion piece titled No Smoking. Both are 
theatrical showpieces, clearly staged on 
film sets, in which two highly accom- 
plished French actors—Sabine Azema 
and Pierre Arditi—portray numerous 
characters in a two-person tour de force. 
Based on a series of short plays by 
Britain's prolific comic playwright, Alan 
Ayckbourn, the Smoking/No Smoking duo 
won five Césars (France's answer to Os- 
car), including Best Picture. Named Best 
Actor, Arditi plays a tippling schoolmas- 
ter, a jack-of-all-trades known as Lionel, 
the schoolmaster's friend and Lionel's 
elderly father. The flexible film medium 
allows him to make entrances and exits 
with aplomb, all but running into hi 
self while Azema assumes her various dis- 
guises as a harried, romantic house: 
a country girl with aspirations and other 
local types. While impressive as a stunt, 
Smoking alone is a shade too clever for its 
own good. ¥¥/2 


Animation and anthropomorphic hu- 
mor are combined expertly in The Lion 
King (Walt Disney Pictures), which bids to 
become this summer's fami 
pacesetter. Authoritative as the voice of 
the slain daddy lion Mufasa, James 
Jones is matched by Jeremy Irons, who 
knocks himself out as the hammy Scar— 
a bad cat taking over the animal king- 
dom meant to be the birthright of Simba 
(Matthew Broderick speaks for the adult 
Simba). With campy vocal turns sup- 
plied by the likes of Whoopi Goldberg 
and Nathan Lane, Lion King is thor- 
oughly grown-up, savvy entertainment 
for the young at heart—provided you 
don't think too much about messages re- 
garding class, color and the divine right 
of kings—even animal ones. ¥¥¥ 


Casting Halle Berry as a secretary 
named Sharon Stone is probably the best 
gag in The Flintstones (Universal). How 
stupid can a movie be and still land on 
the box-office charts? We'll see. In gen- 
eral, the film version of the famous car- 
toon and ТУ series turns out to be a taste 
test for moviegoers over the age of ten— 
or maybe seven. ¥ 


MOVIE SCORE CARD 


capsule close-ups of current films 
by bruce williamson 


Backbeat (Reviewed 4/94) Beatles in 
love triangle way back when. ¥¥¥ 
City Slickers 11 (See review) So-so sequel 
dims the usual Crystal ball. Ya 
The Client (See review) Grisham served 
in style by a stellar company. ¥¥¥ 
Coming Out Under Fire (See review) Gays 
in uniform sharply reviewed. ¥¥¥ 
The Conviction (7/94) Italian courtroom 
drama on sexual harassment. УҰ/2 
Crooklyn (6/94) Coming of age in 
Brooklyn as seen by Spike Lee. ¥¥/2 
The Crow (7/94) Dark comic-strip 
deeds starring Brandon Lee. Wy/ 
Fear of a Black Hat (7/94) Sly spoof of a 
rip-roaring rap group. yyy 
The Flintstones (See review) As film 
foolery goes, this is rock bottom. ¥ 
Four Weddings and a Funeral (5/94) Hot 
British slant on social functions. ¥¥¥ 
Go Fish (7/94) Lesbians make their 
statement as a romantic comedy. УУ 
Just Like a Woman (See review) He's 
straight but digs cross-dressing. ¥¥ 
Kika (6/94) Spanish and sexy but still 
substandard Almodovar. УУ 
Les Visiteurs (4/94) Seeing modern 
France with a knight of yore. Wh 
The Lion King (Sce review) It’s a highly 
human jungle out there. yyy 
Little Big League (See review) The 
‘Twins guided by a l2-year-old. — vw 
Mi Vida Loca (See review) In the L.A. 
barrio, homegirls carry оп. УУУУ; 
My Life's in Turnaround (7/94) How to 
make a movie from ground zero. УУ 
Naked in New York (6/94) Young lovers 
pick passion or career moves. ¥¥¥ 
Serial Mom (5/94) Kathleen Turner 
takes a toll in suburbia. УУУ 
Sirens (5/94) Vintage eroticism down 
under, where women let loose. YYYY 
The Slingshot (7/94) Reminiscence of a 
Swedish boy and how he grew. ¥¥¥ 
Smoking (Sce review) Sheer flimflam 
done to a turn in French. Wh 
Spanking the Monkey (Sce review) He 
takes mother love to the max. ¥¥¥ 
Sunday’s Children (6/94) Ingmar 
Bergman and son collaborate on a 
compelling family saga. WY 
That's Entertainment Ш (6/94) More 
magic from MGM musicals. ¥¥¥'/2 
The Wedding Gift (See review) A 
doomed wife picks her successor. ¥¥'/2 
When a Man Loves a Woman (6/94) She | 
drinks, he forgives. Wy 
White (7/94) French wife dumps hus- 
band and is jailed for murder. YY 
The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefen- 
stahl (6/94) Hitler's favorite and a leg- 
end in her own time. yyy 


¥¥ Worth a look 
¥ Forget it 


¥¥¥¥ Don't miss 
¥¥¥ Good show 


VIDEO 


UEST SEII 


When it comes to 
at-home viewing, 
Dustin Hoffman's 
picks are as eclec- 
tic as the roles he 
plays. He bounces 
from French fare 
such as Forbidden 
= Games and The 
Children of Paradise to Fellini's 8% to 
Bergman's Fanny and Alexander. “| also 
saw this movie, La Belle Noiseuse,” he 
says, "about a painter and a nude model. 
He spends the entire movie painting and 
talking with her. He's clothed and she's 
nude—he never touches her. It's really 
sexy.” The actor's actor is also partial to 
memorable performances, such as Charlie 
Chaplin's in The Gold Rush. “And I just saw 
De Niro's A Bronx Tale. He did a good job 
with it.” Does Hoffman prefer comedy or 
drama? “I never could figure out the differ- 
ence,” he says. "Could you?” —susaN KARLIN 


VIDEO SEX ED 


Class begins now. As how-to sex videos 
infiltrate the market, the Sinclair Insti- 
tute steals the spotlight with three sex-ed 
tapes featuring experts, therapists and 
sexually active couples. Polite but explic- 
it, the vid-triptych includes: 

Becoming Orgasmic: For the 48 percent of 
American women who have some trou- 
ble reaching orgasm—and for the men 
who want to please them—this program 
claims to unlock the mysteries of the cli- 
toris. Rather than blame itall on Freud, 
it asks viewers to follow instructions on 
manual, oral, genital and battery-operat- 
ed stimulation. The TV-movie style is 
gooly, the climax is sublime. 

Sexual Positions for Lovers—Beyond the Mis- 
sionary Position: Four couples demon- 
strate bed gymnastics—sometimes to 
heighten stimulation, other times to 
work around an obstacle (e.g., back pain 
or pregnancy). A provocative look at the 
power and playfulness of sex, along with 
helpful anatomical info. 

Speaking of Sex: This tape stresses com- 
munication between partners on such 
topics as oral sex, birth control and sex- 
ually transmitted diseases, But the talk- 
show format is a drag. It kind of makes 
you want to stop the yapping and get 
back to bed. — JULIE BESONEN 


VIDBITS 


The newest batch of TV-to-tape transfers 
crosses generational lines. Now replay- 
ing on the small screen: All in the Family: 
The Collector‘s Edition (Columbia House), 


Bonanza: The Return (Vidmark), Rawhide 
and Gunsmoke (CBS Video)—and for 
real historians, The Jack Benny Collection 
(MCA/Universal). . . . Did someone say 
new Hitchcock? The mystery master's 
wartime shorts, Bon Voyage and Aventure 
Malgache (Milestone, $39.95), were 
banned by the Brits as inflammatory— 
then sat on—back in 1944. Now these 
musty must-sees are yours. In French, 
with subtitles. . . . Buena Vista's The Best 
of Broadway Musicals features a mother 
lode of classic numbers performed live 
on The Ed Sullivan Show. Highlights in- 
clude Julie Andrews and Richard Bur- 
ton singing What Do the Simple Folk Do? 
from Camelot, and Ethel Merman belting 
out There's No Business Like Show Business 
from Annie Get Your Gun ($19.99). 


TOONS ON TAPE 


With The Flintstones, Hollywood has once 
again brought classic pen-and-ink to the 
big screen. Other well-loved, two-dimen- 
sional characters who made the leap be- 
fore Fred include: 

Dick Tracy (1990): With an imaginative 
use of primary colors, director-produc- 
er-star Warren Beatty brings the ulti- 
mate dick to life. Hoffman and Pacino do 
decent villainy, while Madonna's slinky 
femme fatale makes for a wonderful 
screen stint. For a change. 

Superman (1978): Christopher Reeve 
soars as both the nerdy Clark Kent and 
the beefed-up man of steel—though 
Mario Puzo's story takes itself a bit too 
seriously. Still, a great flight. 


Brenda Starr (1992): Not half as bad as the 
press surrounding its nonrelease (it went 
straight to video). Playful script, great 
comic-book look and a stunning Brooke 
Shields make this one a surprise. 

The Addams Family (1991): Short on plot, 
Jong on cobwebbed atmosphere. Great 
cast and top art direction bring Charles 
Addams’ world of Gothic decadence hi- 
lariously to life. Sequel's good, too. 
Batman (1989): ‘Tim Burton's Gotham 
City saga swaps camp for a dark vision of 
urban chaos as Keaton and Nicholson 
tear up the Oscar-winning scenery. Cool 
Prince tunes. 

Popeye (1980): Robin Williams and Shel- 
ley Duvall were born to play Popeye and 
Olive Oyl. Too bad director Robert Alt- 


man got lost at sea. —FLIZABETH TIPPENS 


LASER FARE 


Ah, nothing better on a hot summer 
night than air-conditioning, a loved one 
and а cheesy monster movie. Among the 
so-bad-they're-good flicks making disc 
debuts this summer are Paramount's 
1956 Japanese classics Redan and Godzil- 
la: King of the Monsters, as well as War of the 
Gargantuas (1970) and Godzilla's Revenge 
(1971). Or, if you prefer fine American 
cheese, Orion has released six classics 
from the granddad of ghoul, Vincent 
Price. Best double feature: Price's hilari- 
ous spin in Master of the World (from the 
Jules Verne tale) and his priceless poke 
at Poe in The Masque of the Red Death, di- 
rected by Roger Corman. Have fun. 
—GREGORY Р. FAGAN 


Philadelphia (no reol surprises in Demme's AIDS-courtroom 
droma—but superb Washington and Hanks), The Piano 
(mute moil-order bride Holly Hunter frees keyed-up possion 
in New Zealand wilds; screen poetry from Jane Campion). 


WIRED 


READ ANY GOOD 
DISKS LATELY? 


Instead of lugging hardcovers between 
Tokyo and Osaka, Japanese commuters 
are now reading books contained on 
floppy disks. NEC kicked off the trend 
with its Digital Book Player, a $500 de- 
vice that resembles the personal digital 
assistants currently on sale in the States. 
A similar version in the works at Fujitsu 
will store books on credit-card-size mem- 
ory cards. And while there's no word on 
when or if these products will arrive 
here, owners of Apple Newton Message 
Pads and Sharp Expert Pad PDAs have 
their own digital commute underway. 
Using Newton Connection Kit software 
for Windows and Macintoshes, they're 
dialing the Internet and downloading 


dozens of books—including Sherlock 
Holmes classics and Joseph Conrad's 
Heart of Darkness—onto their PDAs. A 
group called the Online Book Initiative 
distributes electronic text on the Inter- 
net. E-mail the group at world.std.com 
for more information. 


BROADCAST NEWS 


Everything remains on schedule for the 
fall launch of RCA's Digital Satellite Sys- 
tem. GM Hughes Electronics is expected 
to send its second satellite into orbit this 
month, making it possible for you to pick 
up 150 channels of digital audio and 
video on 18'diameter satellite dishes 
from RCA. Look for the dishes in Circuit 
City, Sears and Best Buy stores for $700. 
And yes, Playboy TV will be offered. In 
other television news, the Electronics In- 
dustry Association recently announced a 
new technology standard that will take 
the guesswork out of channel surfing. 
Called Extended Data Service, it will en- 
able you to access text messages (includ- 
ing program titles, ratings and length of 
shows) on your TV screen each time you 
tune to a different channel. Finally, we're 
told Cox Cable is test-marketing its pipe- 
lines as a route to deliver Prodigy to PC 


users in San Diego. Why? Because cable 
can transmit data up to 1000 times faster 
than phone lines, which means more cy- 


berbabble for your buck. 


GET-FIT GADGETS 


Getting into shape is a pain in the ass. 
Fortunately, we've found a few devices 
that can turn the challenge into a game. 
One of them, Caltrac, is а $90 beeper- 
size monitor that measures the amount 
of calories you burn each day versus the 
amount you consume. All you do is pro- 
gram in your height, weight and the es- 
timated calories you consume. Then clip 
Caltrac to your waistband and its super- 
sensitive computer chip starts count- 
ing—whether you're sitting still or 
sweating it out on a stair climber. You 
can also track your body-fat percentage 
in private—in seconds—with the Futrex 
1000 ($100, illustrated at right). Again, 
you punch in your height and weight, 
then press the device to the center of 
your bicep. An electronic beam of light 
distinguishes between fat and muscle, 
and a digital readout gives you the re- 
sults. For serious fitness fun and games, 
check out the Heartbeat Personal Train- 
er ($299), a souped-up Sega Genesis sys- 
tem that monitors your pulse and target 
heart rate via specially programmed. 


video games. While you're pedaling 
away on your exercise bike, for example, 
you can play Outworld 2375 A.D., an in- 
tergalactic race in which you have to out- 
maneuver mutants in a spacecraft. A 
pulse monitor (clipped to your ear) and 
an optical sensor measure how fast 
you're going. If it's too slow, your space- 


craft will crash; too fast and ivll overheat 
and disintegrate. Heartbeat games cost 
about $70 each. If you already own a 
Genesis system, there's a connection 
package, called Catalyst, that. provides 
all the benefits of the dedicated Heart- 
beat unit for $199. 


One of the lightest 486 subnotebook computers on the market, Compoq's Contura 
Aero 4/25 (pictured below) weighs 3.5 pounds and is ovailable with up to 12 
megobytes of memory and hord drives from 84 to 250M8s. It also features a PCMCIA 
slot, o trackboll ond a six- 
hour bottery life. Prices 
ronge from $1399 for a 
monochrome version to 
$2199 for the 4/33c 
model with a color dis- 
ploy. * Technics is com- 
ing out with the first book- 
shelf stereo system that 
olso incorporates o video 
CD ployer. The SC-VC10 
hooks up to your TV ond, 
in addition to playing five- 
inch compact disc movies 
and audio CDs, combines 
a tuner, a tape deck and 
three-way speakers, about 
$1200. e The Personal 
Daily Plan It calendors for 
IBM-compotible PCs are 
a fun woy to keep trock 
of your life. We like the 
Plan It Poradise edi- 
tion ($60), which in- 
cludes more than 
400 color photos 
of sexy bathing- 
suited beauties. 


On the 125th Anniversary 
of the most legendary clipper ship of all time... 
The National Maritime Historical Society Presents 


ES 


She earned lasting fame as the greyhound of the sea. Built 
and rigged for speed, she made the run between England 
and Australia in record time. Today, she rests in 
permanent dry dock in Greenwich, England. 

Now, on the 125th Anniversary of the launch of the 
fabled Cutty Sark, the National Maritime Historical Society 
presents a powerful tribute to the most famous clipper ship 
of themall. 

THE CUTTY SARK ANNIVERSARY MARITIME 
HOURGLASS. An authentic, fully functional reproduction 
of an actual 19th-century nautical timepiece. 

The crystal-like hourglass holds a half-hour's measure of 
sand, and is embellished with the signs of the Zodiac. Each 
aglow in the brilliance of 24 karat gold electroplate. 

The custom-designed housing is plated in 24 karat 
gold and elaborately decorated with the traditional naviga- 
tional compass, displaying 16 directional points. The 
entire housing is attached to a gimbaled frame that 
permits the hourglass to be turned with ease. 

Evoking the romance of life on the high seas, this 
extraordinary showpiece will add a dramatic touch to any 
100m or setting. The price, just $195, payable in monthly 
installments. Hardwood display base included at no 
additional charge. 

‘SATISFACTION GUARANTEED 
If you wish to return any 
Franklin Mint purchase, you 
may дото within 30.days of. 
your receipt of that purchase 
for replacement, credit 
or refund. 


The hourglass housing, 
is surmounted by a handsome 
fish-shaped finial, richly 
embellished in 24 karat gold. 


APT. 
ШР 


 `———= 


— — Shown sli о P 16559-7-001-8MVH 


STYLE 


BACKWARD GLANCE 


Forget those bulky gym bags. The coolest way to lug your load 
these days is with a backpack. Kenneth Cole's pebble-grain 
leather version with two outside pockets and a back-entry zip- 
per ($180) makes it easy to separate your stash. 
So does the extra-roomy napa leather pack by 
Tumi ($300), which also has two outside zip pock- 
ets and a snap hook for your keys. Ghurka's 
vintage-style backpacks feature 
braided leather handles and 
come in an antiqued Jacquard 
fabric ($495) as well as a chestnut 
Teather that’s embossed to look 
like alligator skin ($595). Out- 
door Products makes the Bossa- 
nova pack for extra-heavy haul- 
ing. It combines ultradurable 
cordura nylon (a fabric used to 
pad ski and snowboard threads) 
with nubuck leather on the bot- 
tom and flap ($45). Eagle Creek’s 
casual briefcase, also made of cor- 
dura, doubles as a backpack with 
straps that can be hidden in a 
special compartment ($60). And 
Rugby North America's extra- 
large style ($200, shown here) 
converts to an equally handy duffel bag when you detach one 
of the straps from the pewter clips. 


POLY GOES PC 


Sharp soda bottle, dude. Not the one you're drinking from— 
the one you're wearing. Yep, recycled plastic bottles are 
now being used to manufacture polyester. Timber- 
land's fleece pullover with nylon trim ($200), for ex- 
ample, is made of Polartec ECO 200, a type of poly- 
ester made of 50 percent recycled plastic. Eastern 
Mountain Sports offers a variation called Pinnacle 
E.C.O. fleece—E.C.O. stands for environmental- 
ly correct origins. We like the pull-on draw- 
string pants ($50) and zip-front vest ($55), 
both with contrasting trim. When it comcs to 
footwear, G.H. Bass' casual oxford shoes ($65) 
combine rubber soles with recycled polyester 
uppers. Eastpak's ECO series includes both 
lightweight fanny packs ($25) and backpacks 
($48 to $72) made of a recycled polyester that 
resembles cotton canvas. Colors include black, 
navy and hunter green. Hat Attack tops it off 
with a hunting cap that features Monks Cloth 
Naturetex 100 and earflaps and lining made 
from Fortrel Ecospun. Patagonia's PCR (postcon- 
sumer recycled) Synchilla fleece jacket comes in a 
waist-length style with a stand-up collar ($82). 


HOT SHOPPING: SAN FRANCISCO 


When the 1989 earthquake ripped apart the downtown free- 
ways, it opened up San Francisco's Hayes Valley area for re- 
development. Streetwalkers have been replaced by a Soho- 


like triangle of 
CLOTHES LINE 


unique alternative 
shops. One by Two 
шоу): н Saturday Night Live bandleader С.Е. 
half e = Sy КАКИШ Smith's blond mane is a slick con- 
ps trast to his collection of black Eddie 
store carries unisex Bingen 
sportswear and un- were bought while on 
н art ius tour with Bob Dylan 
MER OD in 1988, he says, but 
(971 Hayes Street): GE EE [peke fe 
The hippest aerobics Jf Pit aos othe 
studio in town, with One Eadie Bauer 
BE HE selection, better than they do 
of exercise anı m å 
street threads. ® руш ee Su 
ao E Cuban-heel shoes 
Je from a "trendy, retro 
boutique on Melrose 
Avenue." He also likes 
Cole-Haan loafers and 
Converse hightops. And a guitar 
player "has to have a worn-out 
denim jacket, though a brand-new 


turing clothing 
made from spe- 
cialty fabrics by young 
designers, with some 
custom-made on the 


premises. e AD/50 Mes ‘| BUS) 
а ry Gilmore prison-issue one 
(601 Laguna ER is cool, too.” Other denim 


favorites: Levi's jeans and faded 


style furnishings Woctorn shirts. 


signed exclusively by 
architects, € No- 
mads (556 Hayes Street): Deconstructed suits and casual 
menswear by European and local designers. 


SOCKS, TIES AND VIDEOTAPE 


On the road to success, the wrong wardrobe can be 
а dead end. So we suggest that you get directions 
from these fashion sources. Books: Kenneth 

Karpinski's Red Socks Don't Work ($14.95) has the 
word on tailors, trousers and tacky trends. Men of 
Style, by Donald Charles Richardson ($20), offers 
simple solutions for bad skin and hair days. And 

the Chic Simple series includes a volume called 

Clothes ($25), which covers everything from under- 

wear to cummerbunds, and another titled Shirt and 

Tie ($12.50) to help you conquer your fear of mix- 
ing and matching. Video: For the guy who's all 
thumbs, Tie Ting and More ($17.95) is a 30-minute 

VHS tape featuring demonstrations on how to cre- i 

ate the perfect knot, how to match ties with suits © 

and selecting ties for different occasions. 


E Т E 


Shades of blue and black, from navy to slate; 
subtle stripes and plaids 


Boxy silhouettes with footboll-pad shoulders; 
pi -up sleeves 


High-contrast patterns; winter while; primary 
and pastel colors; shiny gold buttons 


FIT AND FABRICS 


Long, slim fit; slightly suppressed waist; wool 
blends with texture; cashmere 


Anything that's not your size; flat or stiff fobrics 
such as mohair or Harris tweed — 


Where & How to Buy on page 143. 


Padre Island. 


2 


1 I Engagement Ring” 
A diamond is forever. 


Call the Jewelers of 


De Beers 


CHARLES М. YOUNG 


SOMETIMES I think all pop music made af- 
ter 1964 has been a terrible mistake. Lit- 
tle Richard, Chuck Berry and Eddie 
Cochran got it right the first time, and 
there’s no need for anybody else to try. 
Ironically, that's what I think every 
morning for the 27 minutes it takes to 
play Backbeat (Virgin)—a movie sound- 
track about the Beatles in Hamburg, 
when they were learning to play rock 
and roll by covering the aforementioned 
forefathers. There seems to be a period 
of about six years in a musician's career 
when he has both the competence and 
energy to play three chords in two- 
minute bursts with convincing convic- 
tion. Once you've passed those years, 
you can't. So producer Don Was wisely 
assembled some of the hottest young 
musicians of the formerly alternative 
scene and turned them loose on 12 
songs that have been covered a billion 
times by aspiring rock musicians. By 
God, they do it better than just about 
anyone since the Beatles, who did it bet- 
ter than anyone since Little Richard, 
Chuck Berry and Eddie Cochran. There 
are wonderfully raw vocals by Greg Dul- 
li (Afghan Whigs) and Dave Pirner (Soul 
Asylum), killer rhythm and authentically 
crude lead guitar by Don Fleming 
(Gumball) and Thurston Moore (Sonic 
Youth) and in-the-pocket bass by Mike 
Mills (R.E.M.). But I give the largest 
measure of credit to drummer Dave 
Grohl (Nirvana), who can propel a song 
with his profound sense of backbeat as 
well as anyone since Ringo. Play it loud 
and be happy. 


FAST CUTS: Ain't Gonna Be Your Dog 
(MCA), by Howlin’ Wolf. If you crave 
more after the recent boxed set, this col- 
lection of rarities and alternate takes will 
satiate for a while. The acoustic stuff is 
utterly haunting. So is the box, One More 
Mile (MCA), by Muddy Waters. Even fa- 
natics will find something special. 


ROBERT CHRISTGAU 


Rock styles don't derive from one 
source, and that goes double for styles 
that become marketing devices or head- 
line shorthand—like grunge. Neverthe- 
less, one set of forefathers prefigured 
Nirvana: another power trio, Minneapo- 
lis’ mythic Hüsker Dü. With bassist Greg 
Norton, pop-friendly drummer Grant 
Hart and guitarmeister Bob Mould 
singing and writing, Hüsker Dü generat- 
ed energy much closer to classic punk 
than to metal melodrama. Most of their 
albums were recorded on the cheap. 


24 Their third major-label release, coming 


Backbeat: Better than the Beatles? 


Alternative musicians 
cover the garage classics 
and new blues from Hendrix, 


six years after the band broke up, isa live 
recording, The Living End (Warner). It is а 
sonic boon. 

Тоо many of the album's 24 tracks 
come from the band’s relatively flat two- 
LP finale, Warehouse: Songs and Stories. 
But even that material gathers heat and 
strength in these concert-forged ver- 
sions. By 1987, Hüsker Dü could afford 
to record its ferocious shows right. Any- 
one who owns all the Hüsker Dü al- 
bums—now reissued on Rhino—will 
know all but three of the songs on this 
77-minute epic. Those who are less fa- 
miliar with the music shouldn't pass up 
the opportunity to hear Mould rocket off 
into the void. 


FAST curs: Three of my favorite cur- 
rent examples of guitar-driven pop were 
released in late 1993. The Afghan 
Whigs’ Gentlemen (Elektra) sets the 
painful confessions of an ass man against 
a wall of noise. On Les Thugs’ As Happy 
as Possible (Sub Pop), French punk pos- 
eurs go anthemic. And Archers of Loaf's 
Icky Mettle (Alias) is bent pop for colle- 
giate types wary of wearing out their 
Pavement CDs. 


DAVE MARSH 


From the opening 12-string jangle of 
‘Too Little Too Late to the final thundering 
beats celebrating Intoxication, Day Dream- 
ing at Midnight (Elektra) is the first album 


in more than a decade by Doug Sahm's 
Sir Douglas Quintet. Former Creedence 
Clearwater drummer Doug Clifford, 
who co-produced, keeps everything 
straight ahead. Sahm’s sons, Shawn and 
Shandon, add contemporary hard-rock 
flavor while lead guitarist John Jorgen- 
son bridges the gap. Doug Sahm, the 
Van Morrison of west Texas, dominates, 
mainly with his great white-soul voi 
Its ageless hoarseness evokes an acı 
melancholy. 

When, in the title track, Sahm sings 
"On the outskirts of the human 
race/ That's where I saw her face,” long- 
time fans (meaning me, Bob Dylan and 
117 others) know he’s working familiar 
territory. Appreciating the virtues and 
ironies of this album requires a specific 
set of experiences and prejudices. But as 
Doug Sahm would tell you, that's not a 
problem. 


lic 


FAST CUTS: The Best of Texas Tornados 
(Reprise): Sahm's other band is a Tex- 
Mex supergroup that indudes Freddy 
Fender and squeeze-box geniuses Flaco 
Jimenez and the Quintet’s Augie Mey- 
ers. Their tejano fusion of norteno and 
country-rock sounds best one track at a 
time. This album serves as a jukebox full 
of them 

Hard Road, the True Believers (Ry- 
kodisc): This disc contains the only two 
albums by a mid-Eighties garage grunge 
combo featuring Alejandro Escovedo, 
the Southwest's Alex Chilton. If you 
would like to hear a West Coast punk 
band with roots in 13th Floor Eleva- 
tors-style psychedelia, snap this up with- 
out hesitation. 

The Starkweathers (Fay Records): A five- 
song EP by Midwestern country-rock 
legends-in-the-making, a sort of nonbo- 
hemian R.E.M. Includes Danny Taylor, an 
elegy for a victim of the death penalty 
written over an elegant, ancient-sound- 
ing guitar lick. (RO. Box 7332, Colum- 
bia, Missouri 65205). 


NELSON GEORGE 


Dianne Reeves’ latest CD, Art & Survival 
(EMI), again places this hard-to-classify 
vocalist between the torchy rhythm and 
blues of Anita Baker and the traditional 
jazz of singers such as Sarah Vaughan. 
On this recording, Reeves delights in 
singing material that is multicultural in 
the best sense of the word, with elements 
of Latin, Caribbean and African music 
spicing up her arrangements and har- 
monies. The New Age lyrics here, many 
penned by Reeves, are optimistic with a 
strong undercurrent of feminism. On 
songs such as Old Souls and Freedom 
Dance, her soaring delivery is showcased 


beautifully. Reeves has been blessed with 
the remarkable ability to sing comfort- 
ably over a variety of tempos and the in- 
telligence never to get caught up in mu- 
sical cliches. This is music for adults 
that’s never condescending. 


FAST CUTS: Smokey Robinson and the 
Miracles, The 35th Anniversary Collection 
(Motown Master Series): This collection 
contains four CDs packed with the wit 
and whimsy of William Robinson, cover- 
ing all his years with the Miracles and his 
Motown solo career. In other words, the 
series runs from Get a Job to One Heart- 
beat. There are some dead spots. Smokey 
has always been more a single hitmaker 
than an album artist. But the classics are 
there, along with many of his lesser- 
known gems. 


VIC GARBARINI 


The blues is the ultimate litmus test 
for modern musicians. The basics are 
simple, but if you don't play with real 
feeling, forget it. Listen to Jimi Hendrix 
burn through eight previously unre- 
leased and three rare studio blues 
recordings on Blues (MCA), and you'll 
hear the greatest guitarist of all time 
pour his heart through every note he 
plays. These luminous explorations in- 
clude early versions of Voodoo Chile Blues, 
Hear My Train a Comin’ and a funked-up 
version of Muddy Waters’ Mannish Boy 
that could send even a fine band like the 
Red Hot Chili Peppers into the fetal po- 
sition. His take on the Albert King stan- 
dard Born Under a Bad Sign sets the pat- 
tern for the album. Hendrix starts with a 
dazzling workout on the original theme. 
Then he lights the afterburner and takes 
off into realms where no one has ever 
been able to follow him. Blues is more 
than just a collection of stunning out- 
takes. It is an unexpected addition to a 
master’s legacy. 


FAST CUTS: Elvis Costello, Brutal Youth 
(Warner): Is he still bitter? You bet. But 
Costello's reunion with his original 
band, the Attractions, provides these 
acerbic tales with an edgy vitality that 
pegs this as his best work since Jimmy 
Carter was president. 

Last of the Independents, the Pretenders 
(Sire): Chrissie Hynde is back with origi- 
nal drummer Martin Chambers, and the 
Pretenders sound like a real band again 
for the first time in a decade. They've re- 
captured their melodic punch, and 
Chrissie has the spark again. 

Blues for Thought, Terry Evans (Point- 
blank): Evans’ husky, roadhouse vocals 
have graced albums by everyone from 
Pop Staples to Ry Cooder. Gooder prop- 
erly returns the favor here by contribut- 
ing some sinewy slide work and first-rate 
picking. 


FAST TRACKS 


OC K 


METER 


Christgau 

Various ortists 

Backbeat 9 8 8 5 10 

Jimi Hendrix 

8 10 8 10 8 

Hüsker Dü 

The Living End 8 6 7 9 7 
6 

Dianne Reeves 

Art & Survival 9 


FOOD FOR THOUGHT DEPARTMENT: Ted 
Nugent's hunting special, Spirit of the 
Wild, has run four times during 
pledge periods on PBS in Michigan 
Says Ted, "I'm the only guy who has 
the balls to kill something on TV and 
gut it right before your eyes.” Pass the 
popcorn. 

REELING AND ROCKING: They’re in the 
latest Lollapalooza lineup, but you'll 
also find George Clinton and the P-Funk 
All-Stars in the movie PC.U. Other 
artists on the soundtrack include Mud- 
honey. . . . It appears that Whitney Hous- 
ton's next film role will be in a remake 
of The Bishop's Wife with Laurence Fish- 
burne and Denzel Washington. . . . An 
upcoming movie, Empire, about a day 
in the life of a record store, promises 
a soundtrack LP appropriate to its 
twentysomething characters. - . . U2 
plans to test Zoo TV on TV this year, as 
well as develop a CD-ROM. Bono is ac- 
tively thinking about an acting debut, 
perhaps in The Million Dollar Hotel, a 
screenplay he co-wrote. . . . Rhino 
Records is considering a movie ver- 
sion of the Monkees and is also making 
a film bio of Frankie Lymon, who sang 
Why Do Fools Fall in Love and died 
young of an overdose. 

NEWSBREAKS: Although the members 
of Los Lobos are busy with a series of 
side projects, the band is not breaking 
up. Look forward to an album of 
Mexican folk songs for kids, a sum- 
mer tour and a band album in the 
fall. . . . Sting heads back to the studio 
to record an album due out by the 
end of the year. . . . Mariah Carey is 
recording a Christmas album. . . . 
While rumors persist about a Led Zep 
reunion or an unplugged concert, 
4 Non Blondes, Stone Temple Pilots, Lenny 
Kravitz and Tesla are all planning Zep 
covers. . . . Luther Vandross is also recy- 
cling: Look for The Impossible Dream 


and Love the One You're With on his 
next album. . . . Free as a Bird, the 
recording by the electronically reunit- 
ed Beatles, will be released at the end 
of 1994 or carly next year. The song, 
by John Lennon, was one of the tracks 
picked to go along with the upcoming 
video documentary. The current plan 
is to release a number of CDs of most- 
ly unheard music (including record- 
ings from the band members’ private 
collections), all polished by George 
Martin. . . . Bill Graham's management 
company and A&M Records are 
putting together a new custom label 
and plan to release about three al- 
bums a year beginning with the Song- 
catchers, a group of American Indians 
from the Pacific Northwest. 

Shaquille O'Neal is the first profession- 
al athlete to get a platinum album. .. . 
If you're in Chicago, the Excalibur 
club has photojournalist Michael Nej- 
man's photo essay on cemeteries 
around the world and celebrity rest- 
ing places, including the graves of 
James Dean and Jim Morrison. . . . Mick 
Fleetwood has opened a restaurant in 
Virginia. . . . James Brown threw his 
own birthday bash in Augusta, Geor- 
gia. The surprise of the night was 
J.Bs duet with Sharon Stone who, he 
says, is “dynamic, excellent and 
down-to-earth.” Go, Sharon. . . . Sad 
but true: Kurt Cobain's suicide tripled 
Nirvana's sales. . . . Finally, one more 
Bono note. The toastmaster of the 
rock world—who can forget his elo- 
quent words for Bob Marley and Frank 
Sinatra this year—may be the main 
man at the Elvis tribute in Memphis in 
October. The talent lineup and details 
about the telecast are due any time 
now. Bruce Springsteen may perform. 
The seats will be sold through a lot- 
tery. Elvis has reserved two on the 
le. — BARBARA NELLIS 


25 


Philip Monis Inc. 1994 


Ultima: Kings | mg” g nicotine ights: Кіпо 6 mg “tar,” 0.4 mg 
nicotine—Kings: 8 mg tar, hav. per cigarette by FTC method. 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Cigarette 
Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide. 


You can switch down 


to lower tar and still get 


Satisfying taste. 


By MARK EHRMAN 


“you know THE world has passed you 
by,” observed that mouthpiece for over- 
the-hill America, Andy Rooney, on 60 
Minutes, "when your newspaper carriesa 
page-one story about the death of some- 
one you've never heard of." He was re- 
ferring to Kurt Cobain, whom few would 
expect the 75-year-old Rooney to know 
anything about anyway. But Rooney did 
not stop there. He drove one grizzled 
foot deep into his mouth while the other 
kicked Cobain's corpse. 

Complaining that Cobain didn't have 
to live through a war or a Depression 
like he did, Rooney then opined that "if 
Kurt Cobain applied the same thought 
process to his music that he applied to 
his drug-infested life, then its reason- 
able for a reasonable person to think 
that his music may not have made sense 
either.” Huh? On the following show, the 
commentator contritely read a small 
sampling from the sacks of hate mail that 
had poured in during the week. 

Rooney wasn't the sole offender. Rush 
Limbaugh, the McLaughlin Group and 
countless newspaper columnists—after 
most of them acknowledged they had 
never heard of Cobain, Nirvana or even 
grunge—summarily dismissed the dead 
rockstar, perhaps hoarding their tears in 
antidpation of the passing of a true 
American hero: Richard Nixon. Across 
the country, editorial pages wagged 
gnarled fingers at weepy Gen-Xers, 
telling them that Cobain and the whole 
“angry generation” had no right to com- 
plain. Many backed up their point with 
the horrors of life in Bosnia. See? It 
makes unemployment, pollution, bro- 
ken homes and a decaying infrastruc- 
ture sound kind of fun, doesnt it? 

If one event magnified the chasm of 
mutual incomprehensibility between 
journalists and the so-called "so-called 
jeneration X," it was the suicide of the 
Nirvana singer and guitarist. Rather 
than plead ignorance or point out the 
futility of defining a generation that does 
not think or act monolithically, the me- 
dia reached for their collective Grecian 
Formula. News anchors across the coun- 
try intoned canned phrases such as 
“leader of the grunge-rock movement,” 
“the Seattle sound” and “disaffected 
youth” as if they were hip to the whole 
thing from the start. Meanwhile, out in 
the field, reporters chased anything in 
flannel, begging for quotes about “how 
this tragedy affected you.” 

In the scramble to acquire legitimate 
voices to pen My Generation post- 
mortems, The Washington Post pulled off 
the biggest coup. Uh, make that Coup- 
land. The author of the novel Generation 


28 X, Douglas Coupland (who's a very 


X: The generation no one understands. 


How Kurt Cobain’s 
death baffled 
the press. 


twenty-something 33), wrote “Letter 
From a Fan: A Sky of Tears for a Fallen 
Star.” In the 900-plus-word essay, refer- 
ences to its celebrated author outnum- 
bered references to the Nirvana singer 
46 to 34. 

Suicide is certainly a complicated 
event that cannot be neatly summed up, 
even if you're not separated from your 
subject by a gaping generational divide. 
Newsweek, which had the morbid good 
fortune to have a suicide story in the 
works when the news hit, probably 
turned in the best coverage. It stuck fair- 
ly close to the facts. Writer Jeff Giles ac- 
tually demonstrated some insight into 
what Nirvana and grunge are all about 
and, best of all, avoided such inanities as 
Time's “John Lennon of the swinging 
Northwest.” 

Meanwhile, most of the self-appointed 
pundits combed through the Nirvana 
discography for clues. They churned out 
arucles that were little more than anno- 
tated lyric sheets, or worse, stayed home 
and interviewed their children. Re- 
porters trolled the Internet, stringing to- 
gether any electronic snippets that 
seemed to make sense of it all. At one 
point, journalistic traffic on the informa- 
tion superhighway was so heavy that a 
collision was inevitable. It occurred 
when Spin magazine posted a message 
asking people to e-mail their feelings 
about Cobain. It got a response—a re- 
quest to share those answers—from 
Rolling Stone. Request denied. Learn 


how to post, RS, or get out of the youth 
culture game. 

Tone, too, seemed problematic with 
such tricky subject matter. Entertainment 
Weekly's schizophrenic selection of side- 
bars, for instance, included one called 
“Smells Like Teen Exploitation,” which 
wrung its hands over the inevitable 
profiteering that would result from the 
suicide. Two pages later, another side- 
bar—"Tape Me: Nirvana Collectibles" — 
helped the process along. “Even if you 
have all four of their albums," it remind- 
ed fans, "you're missing a big chunk of 
what Kurt Cobain left behind.” 

Of course, the easiest way for the me- 
dia to fill the vacuum of understanding 
was simply to have reporters interview 
one another. MTV's Kurt Loder set the 
stage with his interviews with Rolling 
Stone's David Fricke—who was probably 
the first to go on record with the tedious 
John Lennon comparison—and with 
Nirvana biographer Michael Azerrad, 
whose "sweet, sensitive guy” platitudes 
were everywhere. The E! channel also 
milked fellow journalists for insight. 
When E! host Steve Kmetko quizzed 
Seattle TV reporter Dan Lothian about 
Nirvana’s future, Lothian enlightened 
us with the knowledge that “experts are 
saying there were only three people in 
this band, and without the lead singer 
[who, by the way, also played guitar and 
wrote almost all the songs] it's doubtful 
that Nirvana will conunue as it was 
known in the past.” Thanks, E!. Glad I 


you can’t explain, you can still 
preach. Taking their cue from Loder’s 
plea of “Don't do it” (Loder had trouble 
uttering the S word throughout his 
broadcasts and usually resorted to such 
locutions as “it” or “a thing like that”), 
the media braced themselves for a 
Jonestownish thinning of the ranks of 
Generation X. One Washington Post piece 
titled “This Is What Not to Do” quoted a 
suicide hotline staffer as saying that 
“Nirvana's not suggesting everybody go 
out and shoot themselves.” Got that, 
kids? To prove the threat was real, USA 
Today noted that one hotline's call vol- 
ume was up 50 percent after MTV pro- 
moted its number. But the paper 
couldn't seem to make the connection 
between those two events. 

But what does it matter that the media 
were never able to reach a more pro- 
found comprehension of this generation 
and its music other than to throw labels 
at it? When the chips were down and 
Generation X needed help, the media 
came through. Keep living, they said. 
Get counseling. Everything will be all 
right. And what do you know? It was. By 
press time, we're happy to note, the 
copycat carnage had leveled off at one. 


By DIGBY DIEHL 


IN HIS SEVEN previous novels, Paul Auster 
demonstrated that he can write stylish 
prose. But he was so preoccupied with 
philosophy that it made those books 
heavy sledding. In Mr. Vertigo (Viking) 
there is still plenty to think about, but 
this breakthrough novel is driven by the 
power of his storytelling. The tale begins 
in 1927, when a nine-year-old orphan 
hustling nickels on the streets of St 
Louis is approached by a stranger in a 
tuxedo and told he can learn to fly. Mas- 
ter Yehudi whisks away young Walt Raw- 
ley to a farmhouse outside of Cibola, 
Kansas and in three years turns him into 
Walt the Wonder Boy, a showbiz sensa- 
tion who duplicates the feats of holy men 
and prophets. 

For two years, Walt amazes audiences 
across the country with airborne antics 
and acrobatics. But as he advances into 
puberty, he is forced to stop by inner 
forces as mysterious as those that en- 
abled him to fly in the first place. 

In the second half of the book—his life 
after flying—Walt the aged narrator tells 
the equally compelling tale of how he be- 
came a Chicago gangster, nightclub own- 
er and pal of pitcher Dizzy Dean. The 
plot of Mr. Vertigo careens about with a 
zaniness worthy of John Irving. Auster 
Americanizes a miracle and takes us to 
a place where only magicians have 
gone before. 

A curious nonfiction parallel to Aus- 
ter's yarn is Dillinger: The Untold Story (In- 
diana University Press), by G. Russell Gi- 
rardin with William Helmer. During 
roughly the same period that fictional 
Walter learned to fly, John Dillinger be- 
came Public Enemy Number One. While 
Walt was empowered by his teacher, 
Dillinger was crushed by the prison sys- 
tem. In 1924, a troubled farm boy with- 
out legal counsel was given the maxi- 
mum sentence for an attempted robbery. 
Nine years later, a hardened criminal 
came out of Indiana State Prison. 
Dillinger immediately embarked on a 
bank-robbing spree that left 26 dead and 
19 wounded before he was gunned 
down in front of the Biograph Theater 
in Chicago in 1934. 

This intimate history of Dillinger— 
unpublished until now—was written 
more than 50 years ago by Girardin, a 
young advertising man who by chance 
had become acquainted with both Dil- 
linger's lawyer and a private investiga- 
tor who was one of Dillinger's closest 
friends. rrAvsov Contributing Editor 
Bill Helmer, a scholar of gangsterdom, 
found Girardin in the course of research 
and dubbed his manuscript “a Dead Sea 
scroll to Dillinger historians.” Helmer's 
claim is justified by the inside stories 


Mr. Vertigo makes magic and mischiel. 


New additions to 
the crime shelf and 
40 years of glory. 


from Dillinger's family and his gang, by 
statements that support the belief that 
some of Dillinger's robberies were pre- 
arranged with the banks to cover miss- 
ing funds, by details of how the famous 
“wooden gun” jailbreak was planned, 
and by the first comprehensive overview 
of Dillinger's betrayal and killing. 

Helmer has wisely allowed the narra- 
tive to remain in Girardin's dated, melo- 
dramatic style and to supply extensive 
background material and annotation 
from 36,000 pages of FBI files. A fasci- 
nating addition to the true-crime shelf. 

Crime fiction continues to be a sum- 
mer staple, with a list topped this month 
by William Kotzwinkle's The Game of Thir- 
ty (Houghton Mifflin/Seymour Law- 
rence). The author of Elephant Bangs 
Tiain, The Fan Man and Fata Morgana 
spins an offbeat murder mystery around 
Egyptian antiquities. The Game of Thir- 
ty is a board game that the ancient Egyp- 
tians believed to reflect the state of the 
players’ lives, in a manner similar to 
Tarot cards. Wisecracking private inves- 
tigator Jimmy MeShane finds himself 
playing the game with a killer on the 
streets of Manhattan. 

James Ellroy has been telling wild, 
noir tales of Los Angeles in the Fifties in 
such novels as The Black Dahlia, The Big 
Nowhere, L.A. Confidential and White Jazz. 
Hollywood Nocturnes (Otto Penzler) con- 
tains a novella and five short stories set 
in the same milieu. However, even El 
roy's eerie, intimate introduction to Dick 


Contino's Blues does not prepare you for 
the whacked-out verbal ride of this 
bizarre escapade. 

Pardon us if we trot out our family al- 
bum, but The Ployboy Book: Forty Years—The 
Complete Pictorial History (General Publish- 
ing), by Gretchen Edgren with Murray 
Fisher, is everything proud literary par- 
ents could hope for. This handsomely 
produced picture book features more 
than 1200 photos and illustrations that 
take the reader from a card table in 
Hugh Hefner's apartment in 1953 through 
the astonishing growth of the Playboy 
empire as it moves into electronic media. 

Hef supervised the selection of mate- 


å rial from more than 8 million images in 


the PLAYBOY archives, and his instinct for 
topicality, humor and visual impact is ev- 
ident. Many of the best cartoons of Jules 
Feiffer, Vargas, Gahan Wilson, Buck 
Brown, Shel Silverstein and Harvey 
Kurtzman are included, along with illus- 
trations from history-making articles 
and re-creations of memorable covers. 
The book is filled with reminders of un- 
forgettable Playboy Intervieus with the 
Reverend Martin Luther King, John 
and Yoko, Jimmy Carter and Marlon 
Brando, to name a few, as well as illus- 
trations that accompanied book excerpts 
from Roots, All the Presidents Men and 
James Michener's Space. 

A chronidle of the past four decades 
and the history of a magazine, The 
‚Playboy Book brings alive people and is- 
sues in vivid, colorful images. This picto- 
rial survey demonstrates why PLAYBOY 
has become, in Hefner's words, “a hand- 
book and a bock of dreams for young, 
urban American males.” 


BOOK BAG 


My Life in Toons: From Flatbush to Bedrock 
in Under a Century (Turner Publishing), by 
Joseph Barbera with Alan Axelrod: The 
spirited story of the 83-year-old co-cre- 
ator of Tom and Jerry, The Jetsons and The 
Flintstones, who spent years struggling on 
Wall Street before going on to dominate 
Saturday morning TV. 

Sex & Sensibility: Reflections on Forbidden 
Mirrors and the Will to Censor (Ecco Press), 
by Marcia Pally: A controversial book 
that attacks censorship and details the 
battle over First Amendment rights with 
lively opinion and a ton of facts. 

Jukebox America (St. Martin's Press), 
by William Bunch: Pulitzer Prize-win- 
ning journalist Bunch went on a search 
for the greatest jukebox. Take the ride. 

Prisoner of Woodstock (Thunder's Mouth 
Press), by Dallas Taylor: Taylor played 
drums with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young 
in the Sixties. This book recounts his 
struggle with fame, how it nearly killed 
him and the miracle of his recovery. 


IMPORTED BY CENTURY IMPORTERS ING, RESTON, VA ©1998 


LOOK FOR A FREE SHARKBITE GAME 
PIECE WHEREVER YOU ENJOY FOSTER'S. 
AND YOU COULD WIN 
THE TRIP TO AUSTRALIA. 


No Purchase Necessary. For a free game piece and 
rules, send a self-addressed stamped #10 envelope 
so it is received by 9/15/94 to: Foster's Requests, PO. 
80x 4875, Blair, NE 68009. Residents of WA only 
need not affix postage to return envelopes. Must 
be of legal drinking age. Void where prohibited. 


Game ends 9/30/94. 
AUSTRALIAN FOR BEER.” 


MANTRACK 


ONE-NIGHT 
STANDARDS 


How choosy is a 
man who's look- 
ing for a one- 
night stand? If 
you're inclined to 
believe Douglas 
Kendrick, a psy- 
chologist at Ari 
zona State Univer- 
sity, men have 
hardly any stan- 
dards at all. Ken- 
drick asked both 
men and women 
what they look for 
in a long-term 
partner and found that they seek similar qualities, such as in- 
telligence, stability and status. However, when Kendrick asked 
what men and women might want in a one-time sexual liaison 
that no one would ever know about, he discovered that “men's 
scores dropped through the floor." The same was not true for 
women. “They still wanted a partner with desirable traits," re- 
ports Kendrick—whether it was for a night or for a lifetime. 


THE MYTH OF THE DANGEROUS HUSBAND 


It's hard to say anything nice about Lorena Bobbitt, but 
give her this: She was guilty of only one mutilation. You can't 
say the same for those who have exploited her case to further 
their own causes. They have twisted the statistics to suggest 
that Lorena's homelife—a tragedy of physical abuse— 
mirrors what happens to more than a million American 
women every year. 

It just ain't so. 

The Department of Justice's National Crime Survey is 
based on more than a half million interviews with women be- 
tween 1979 and 1987. It estimates that about 2.5 million 
women and teenage girls (out of 106 million over the age of 
12) are victims of violent crimes each year. The number over- 
states the incidence of intimate violence, though, because any- 
one who ever dated the victim is labeled a boyfriend. An as- 
sault on the second date is tallied as intimate violence, when it 
might be more reasonable to consider it an attack by an 
acquaintance. 

Search deeper into the statistics and you find that husbands 


a guy's guide to changing times 


are responsible for 2.2 percent of all violent crimes against 
women. Altogether, abuse in male-female relationships—from 
blind dates to 40-year marriages—accounts for 18.5 percent 
of the violent crimes against women and girls. That's slightly 
more than 460,000 victims—or less than half of the 1 million 
figure that is frequently cited. And in more than 25 percent of 
the incidents, the violence was actually a threat of violence. 
This means that fewer than 345,000 women (out of 106 mil- 
lion) report that they are physically assaulted, robbed or 
raped by a husband, lover or date in any year. 
Of course, 345,000 victims is not a small 

number. No level of violence—real or threat- 
ened—should be acceptable. But knowing 
the right numbers helps dispel the notion 
that male-female relationships are inherently 
dangerous for women. Violence by husbands 
and lovers is not the norm. It is freakish behav- 
ior by any definition. To claim otherwise is, 
well, a hatchet job. 


UPLIFTING NEWS 


Like a suspension bridge, a bra isa mir- 
acle of engineering. And recently, when 
Kate Moss called Playtex Wonderbras “bril- 
liant,” women around the country felt their 
hearts swell. “Even I get cleavage with 
them,” Moss said. Key word: cleavage. Last N 
fall, you may have noticed that the boyish, 
flatchested look was in—at least among 
women's fashion magazines. Then U.K. lin- 
gerie maker Gossard scooped Playtex in the 
U.S. with its rival push-up bra, the Super Up- 
lift, a contraption that is made of 46 separate 
pieces of lace, straps and wires. Like the Won- 
derbra, which debuted shortly thereafter, the 
Super Uplift pushes breasts up and together 
with a creative use of padding. The result is firm 
curves and clefts that turn men's thoughts to 
spelunking. When Saks Fifth Avenue in New 
York announced the arrival of the Super Uplift, 
the retailer sold $18,000 worth of bras in two days. 
Men have greeted the innovations with wonder 
and worry. Humorist Dave Barry sees it like this: 
"(1) Breasts make men stupid. (2) The Wonder- 
bra makes breasts even more noticeable. (3) The 
Wonderbra is coming here. This is very bad for 
the United States." y 


ELECTRONIC HIGHWAYMEN 


Could it be that computers make men more articulate? Or that hard drives make them softer? Regardless, the men's 
movement is moving out of the woods and on-line through Mens Net, an electronic men’s club offered by Delphi Internet 
Services. Started by Ron Mazur in 1989, Mens Net's 14,000 users bond in forums, ask for advice or just wire in raunchy 
messages and exit, never to return. With Mazur as moderator, Mens Net fosters interaction by isolating areas of interest in 
discussions and databases. Spike Lee and the myth of the black stud dominate the men-of-color forum, while social issues 


influence the gay chats. An ongoing poll takes the pulse of participants? Currently, twice as many straight men say they fa- 
yor oral sex as prefer the first runner-up, vaginal intercourse. The men’s movement is tracked through the oh-so-earnest 
Changing Men, an on-line magazine dedicated to ending such ills as “patriarchal oppression” and “heterosexism.” Howev- 
er, like much of the men’s movement, Mens Net seems most useful for guys who are either in trouble or merely troubled. 

«Lots of advice is offered on divorce, sexual dysfunction and the perils of vife-swapping, including legal tips, addresses for 
men’s organizations and titles of pertinent books. The emotional support is crucial; for a man who can nayigate the un- 
friendly Internet in the first place, finding an address or a book title probably seems like child’s play. 


L 


32 


HAIR-RAISER 


The latest 
hair line: A 
New York 
physician, Dr. 
Adam Lewen- 
berg, has de- 
veloped a new 
therapy for 
baldness that 
apparently 
packs а wal- 
lop. According 
to an article 
in the medical 
journal Ad- 
vances in Ther- 
apy, Dr. Lew- 
enberg has 
been successful in growing hair on more than 80 percent of 
his patients using a mixture of Rogaine and an acid called 
tretinoin. It’s believed the tretinoin allows the skin to absorb 
more Rogaine, also known as minoxidil. A spray, Lewenberg's 
tonic also works well on the front of the head, which has thick 
skin impervious to plain minoxidil. This new treatment often 
produces healthy new hair that will keep your pate from look- 
ing like a fuzzy navel. 


THE BLACK WOMAN IN THE GRAY FLANNEL SUIT 


Who's making the most career progress? It's not white men, 
but the fastest-growing group in corporate America isn't white 
women, either. According to The Wall Street Journal, black pro- 
fessional women swelled their ranks by 125 percent between 
1982 and 1992—an average gain of 8.4 percent per year. 
White women came in next, with an annual growth rate of 6.4 
percent, followed by black men, with 4.2 percent. At the bot- 
tom of the list were white men, with a humble showing of two 
percent per усаг. 


DEBASEMENT TAPES 


"Today's video junkies have a keen sense of the bizarre. How 
else can you explain the newest craze sweeping the avant VOR 
crowd, particularly in San Francisco? Bored with bland Block- 
buster fare, this group has turned to bootleg videos that make 
Mondo Cane look like Full House. Popular clips witnessed by 
our excitable, far-flung correspondents include: home porn, 
allegedly of a famous beauty queen accepting a fistful of love 
from her equally famous husband; John Lennon babbling in 
a heroin-like haze in the back of a limo; the 20-minute pilot 
for Planet of the 
Apes; William Shat- 
ner reciting Rocket 
Man at a science 
fiction awards cer- 
; medical 
including 
ones that dwell on 
the consequences 
of digestion; Ted 
Knight narrating a 
documentary on 
the virtues of raw food; a press 
conference during which Penn- 
sylvania politician Budd Dwyer 
puts a gun in his mouth and 
shoots; stop-ani 
done with dolls; Crispin Glover 
on Letterman, in the midst of 
an apparent paranoia attack; 
Herve Villechaize talking about 


being suicidal; the legendary Apocalypse Pooh, a short film of 
Winnie-the-Pooh animation edited to the soundtrack of Apoc- 
alypse Now; pit bulls fighting so viciously that it takes five men 
to pull them apart; and last, our favorite: footage of Jim 
Bakker and his grandiose Кеуіп House for handicapped 
children, Kevin being the only disabled child who ever lived 
there. And that's the tame stuff. The truly bizarre footage is 
said to be in Amy Fisher's video camera. 


LIP SERVICE 


*Men always want to please women, but these past 15 years, 
women have been hard to please. If you want to resist the 
feminist movement, the simple way to do it is to give them 
what they want and they'll defeat themselves. Today, there are 
women in their 20s and 30s who don't know if they want to be 
a mother, have lunch or be secretary of state.” 

— JACK NICHOLSON 


“I now realize that it is in the eye of the beholder, and the 
woman is the beholder. Therefore, you must not do anything 


now that might be conceived by the recipient as offensive, or 
misconduct, or whatever. I don't know how you decide ahead 
of time what is going to be offensive. If you don't try, how do 
you know?” — SENATOR BOB PACKWOOD 


"Somebody docs a Mrs. Bobbitt and it causes shock and 
horror. But it is not the small parts of women that are found 
frequently by the roadside. It’s their heads, their arms, their 
legs, the whole body." — AUTHOR MARGARET ATWOOD 


"There is indeed a national hysteria over this new forceful 
feminism—but it's male hysteria. The real cultural fear is not 
that women are becoming too Victorian but that they're be- 
coming too damn aggressive—in and out of bed.” 

— SUSAN FALUDI 


RENT-A-WOMAN 


Archaic as it may sound, taxi dancing is making a come- 
back. Of course, these are the Nineties, and inflation has 
long since altered the famed “dime-a-dance” standard of 
the World War Two era. Now the going rate to fraternize 
with the euphemistically titled hostess is as much as 35 
cents a minute—$21 an hour—plus tip. Despite the rela- 
tively high cost (and its limited return on investment), this 


rent-a-woman approach is catching on, espedally in Los 
Angeles, where hostess clubs, long catering to Asian and 
Hispanic immigrants, are beginning to attract a more up- 
scale crowd. Men are rediscovering that the fear of rejec- 
tion is decreased substantially when you're paying for a 
woman's attention, although having her punch a time 
card before she'll dance with you might spoil the mood. 


MANTRACK 


Among the things that make life worth living GUEST OPINION 


One struggles to keep pace with the moral con- 


for some of us wretched souls is the kind of bad By BOB SHACOCHIS “entions du jour as the menu evolves, undergoes 


(though not evil) behavior that can be roughly 
characterized as sin. Heaven knows these days that sin—how- 
ever stylish and satisfying, and despite its generous contribu- 
tion to the overall texture of that state of grace known as being 
alive—has fallen into disrepute. Since only a fool would defend 
it, I volunteered, understanding, of course, that I would be in 
good company. 

Гуе passed my HIV test, my most recent chest X ray reveals 
no horrific shadow-clump of 
cells and my designated driver is 
curbside, awaiting my tipsy ar- 
rival. I know Fm not going to 
live forever, and neither are you, 
but until my furlough here on 
earth is revoked, I should like to 
elbow aside the established pi- 
eties and raise my martini glass 
in salute to the mortal art of 
pleasure. Specifically, to drink- 
ing, smoking and screwing— 
those much maligned but eter- 
nally seductive temptations of 
the flesh, those impetuous jock- 
eys of the spirit. Vice, after all, is 
not wholly without virtue and, 
like virtue, must sometimes settle 
for being its own reward. Nor 
has vice lacked its advocates over 
the years (though a great many 
of them now appear to be in re- 
treat or are dead). 

I remember—at least I think I 
do, it's all rather murky—when I 
was the person I wanted to be, 
when it was customary for me to 
drink, smoke and (attempt to) 
screw with abandon. But then 
came the Eighties and, even 
worse, the Nineties with their 
zealous reformation of the liber- 
ated counterculture into å prig- 
gish, middle-aged nation of nag- 
gers and health harpies. We 
didn't just become our parents, 
we became our parents with a vengeance, determined to fash- 
ion a parody of adulthood that was as surrealistic as a date with 
a freshman at Antioch. Can I stand in this room with you? Can 
I touch your hair? How about your anus? 

More than one hopeful obseryer has noticed, with keen dis- 
appointment, that anything that's your heart's desire sooner 
or later turns into a sin. When pleasure is criminalized, we live 
in a world according to the high school nurse, terrified of the 
surgeon general and the brass pearls of righteousness with 
which she buttons her uniform. Does anyone here need a good 
spanking? Apparently so. Is it possible we've outgrown grow- 
ing up, that we cling to adulthood only so far as to the point 
where we are held accountable for ourselves, at which time we 
scurry, with a great deal of cowardice, back to the authoritari- 
an kingdom of childhood, where we are no more complicated 
than bumblebees, sexless, and without temptation? 


Bob Shacochis and other writers speak their minds in “Drinking, 
Smoking and Screwing,” a collection of essays to be published by 
Chronicle Books in September. 


DRINKING, SMOKING AND SCREWING 


erasure and recycles. Say, is Catharine MacKinnon 
really the reincarnation of Anthony Comstock? Is she the Car- 
ry Nation of the heterosexual orgasm? It is the role of the con- 
temporary social and cultural reformer to brick over life’s nat- 
ural state of danger with layers of prophylaxis. The hazards of 
existence, however, can't be removed, they can only be muffled 
or obscured. Yet each level of protection is mortared between 
a heart and its passion. Perhaps the anti-sensualists would bet- 
ter serve society if they kept in 
mind these words of Oscar 
Wilde: “Selfishness,” he wrote, 
“is not living as one wishes to 
live, it is asking others to live as 
one wishes to live.” 

Somehow, the nation allowed 
propriety and good sense to be- 
come hyperinflated commodi- 
ties. Evidence was presented to 
suggest that sins against oneself 
were offensive to others—in oth- 
er words, were unconscionable 
sins committed against one’s 
neighbor, who roamed auda- 
ciously through one's backyard 
aiming a video camera. Drinkers, 
smokers and fornicators were 
hence transformed—if you enjoy 
vulgar imagery (and I know 
plenty of you still do)—into turds 
battling upcurrent against the 
purified, utopian flow of the self- 
improved mainstream. Decent 
people could finally relax about 
the impending fall of the Ameri- 
can empire. 

The inescapable fact is that 
what you bind yourself to, either 
by passion, love or duty, is going 
tobe the end of you. It’s true that 
the Marlboro Man is stone dead 
of lung cancer, having regretted 
the countless small, harsh but 
transcendent moments of plea- 
sure he inhaled with his tobacco. 
It is true that drinking is no longer generally considered to be 
an upright profession, and it is outrageously true that the po- 
ets’ linkage of sex and death is particularly apropos of our 
times, seeing as how we now kill onc another with our genitals 
ata much more alarming rate than we do with our guns. 

If Charles Darwin was correct, smokers, drinkers and lib- 
ertines are doing the species a favor, accelerating the biological 
quest for perfection. But spiritual quests aren't so simple, and 
sometimes they lure the seeker into smoky barrooms or the 
arms of an unexpected lover. Hot damn! Or maybe not. It's fu- 
tile, I suppose, to defend smokers, drinkers and fuckers. But 
who wants to live in a world without them, without their libidi- 
nous hunger, without their exalted obsessions? They take the 
joy and sometimes the pain of living to the very edge and 
shout back instructions, dire caveats, titillating weather re- 
ports. Without them, the world might be simple and clean, but 
it wouldn't be deliciously, fascinatingly, pathetically human, 
would it? 

Nor would it be much fun. 


33 


FITNESS 


ost of us were brought up to be- 

lieve that the goal of exercise is 
simply to get stronger. Our childhood 
hero was Superman, the man of steel, 
not Gumby. So we work out, bulk up and 
forget about stretching—and then won- 
der why, for all the new brawn, we can't 
seem to hit a baseball any farther. Or 
why we have this nagging pain in our 
lower back. The answer lies in the one 
component of fitness that remains a 
tough sell, especially to young men: flex- 
ibility. We ignore it at our peril. 

"There isn't a lot of sex appeal associat- 
ed with, say, a nice, elastic hamstring; 
cannonball deltoids and washboard abs 
are what turn women's heads. In virtual- 
ly every sport, however, there is a direct 
correlation between suppleness and per- 
formanee. In addition, flexibility plays a 
crucial role in keeping the body's fickle 
machinery from going on the fritz. Be- 
cause young bodies are resilient and rel- 
atively hard to wreck, you can neglect 
stretching and probably get away with it 
through your teens and early 20s. But 
continue on that path as your 30th birth- 
day comes and goes, and you're asking 
for trouble. 

To understand why stretching is soim- 
portant, you have to know only a little 
about how muscles work. Every kind of 
exercise, every movement, involves the 
contraction of muscle fibers. On com- 
mand from the nervous system, bundles 
of fibers shrink in length, yanking their 
ends tightly together. And because no 
mechanism exists within the muscle for 
pushing the ends back apart, contracted 
fibers tend to stay knotted up and tensc. 

To get a muscle to relax you have to 
tug it back out to its original resting 
length. That's where stretching comes 
into play. If you don't periodically 
stretch a muscle, it gets accustomed to a 
state of contraction and actually grows 
shorter over time, making you feel stiff 
and creaky. This will decrease your 
range of motion, which impairs your 
ability to swing a golf club or hop a fence 
or bend over to tie your shoes. 

Exercise isn't the only thing that caus- 
es muscle fibers to contract. The fila- 
ments that make up red meat are jumpy 
and quick to fire. A number of stimuli 
heat, cold, fright, anxiety, pain, a loud 
noise—will trigger an involuntary con- 
traction of those fibers. But another rea- 


34 son for muscle contraction is lack of 


By JON KRAKAUER 


stimuli—that is, inactivity. Consequently, 
hunching over a desk for eight hours a 
day can make your muscles as tight as 
running a marathon. 

Indeed, Steve Ig, author of The Out- 
door Athlete, argues that sitting in chairs is 
a major cause of chronic muscle tight- 
ness and all that comes with it: head- 
aches, back pain, sciatica, tendinitis, ner- 
vous tension. “Inflexibility,” he insists, 
“is basically a manifestation of too much 
comfort. If you want to stay supple, get 
rid of your furniture. Eat meals sitting 
on the floor. People in less-developed 
countries don't suffer from lower back 
pain the way Americans do, because 
their lifestyle keeps them flexible. Their 
spines and pelvises aren't contracted and 
contorted.” 

The good news for those of us who 
have no desire to chuck our Barca- 
loungers is that a complete lifestyle 
transformation isn’t the only way to get 
limber, Adopting a simple stretching 
regimen, Пр concedes, can do a lot by it- 
self, and do it quickly: “It takes much less 
time for the body to become supple than 
it does to gain aerobic capacity or muscle 
strength. You start to feel the physiolog- 
ical and psychological benefits of stretch- 
ing almost immediately.” 

Bob Anderson, author of the book 
Stretching, emphasizes that “stretching is 


enjoyable. It’s relaxing. You can do it 
just about anyplace and at any time. You 
don't have to be in good shape to stretch. 
There's nothing difficult or unpleasant 
about it if you do it correctly.” The fun- 
damental rule of stretching is to start out 
slow and easy. Unfortunately, Anderson 
says, “A lot of people don't. If it hurts, 
you're doing it too hard.” 

The uninitiated should avoid extreme 
stretches, which involve forceful bounc- 
ing. If done carelessly, they can cause se- 
rious injury. Overzealous stretching can 
also trigger the stretch reflex, in which 
overextended muscle fibers respond by 
involuntarily contracting, clenching up 
the muscle you’re trying to elongate. 

Beginners should instead stick to stat- 
ic—or slow, sustained—stretches. “Get to 
the point where you feel a mild tension,” 
explains Anderson. “The feeling of 
tightness should subside as you hold the 
position for 20 to 30 seconds. Move a 
fraction of an inch farther until you 
again feel mild tension, then hold for an- 
other 20 to 30 seconds.” 

‘Anderson likes to choreograph several 
different stretches into a routine that 
works the entire body. This one is quick 
and simple: 

(1) Lie on your back and put the soles 
of your feet together; your knees should 
be bent and your legs open to the sides. 
Let gravity do the stretching. 

(2) While still on your back, put your 
feet on the floor and bend your knees. 
Lock your fingers behind the middle of 
your head and pull your head forward 
until you feel a slight stretch in the back 
of your neck. 

(3) Lower your head, extend one leg 
and grasp the other leg with both hands 
behind the knee. Pull that leg gently to- 
ward your chest, keeping your lower 
back flat and your head against the floor. 
Don't strain. Repeat with other leg. 

(4) Extend your arms overhead and 
straighten your legs. Reach as far as you 
can with your right arm while extending 
your left leg with toes pointed. Repeat 
with left arm and right leg. 

“This basic routine is a good place to 
Start,” says Anderson. “You can add oth- 
er stretches gradually. People who have 
never stretched before are amazed that 
something this good for them doesn't 
inflict pain and suffering.” 


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36 


MEN 


he best fathers prepare their chil- 
dren for the hard edges of 

what fathers are for. Their role 
ing as the moth- 


ife. 
That 
may not seem as nurtu 
er's, but it has its place. 

Several years after I went through a 
difficult divorce, my two sons, in thei 
early teens, came to live with me in Ch 
cago. As happy as that reunion made 
me, I knew we had some work to do. My 
sons had been living in rural Kentucky, 
and my job to introduce them to 
ity life. So I did three things: 

(1) I invented å game called Street 
Smarts. If I told my sons to meet me on 
a certain corner at a certain time, they 
had to get there without my spotting 
them. I might follow them from our 
front door. Then again, I might hide out 
at the corner and then sneak up behind 
them. I might be sitting in å car or hid- 
ing behind a trash bin in an alley. I did 
not have to touch them to win. All I had 
to do was to see them, pretend my hand 
was a pistol, point my forefinger at them 
until they s 
Some of you reading this might say, 
Those unfortunate children. Their fa- 
ther made them paranoid." But that w 
my goal. If we had lived 
me, things might have been differ 
But through Street Smarts, my sons 
learned to be aware of their surround- 
ngs, and that is an important lesson. My 
fe in Chicago taught me certain smarts 
from an early age, and I passed that 
knowledge or 

(2) I enrolled my sons in martial arts 
classes. Jim took karate, Brendan took 
judo, and both learned enough to han- 
dle themselves. There was no exaggerat- 
ed emphasis on self-defense at home, 
but they learned the fundamentals, 
h served both of them well later. 
ial arts inst ion, combined 
h other athletic endeavors, gave them 
se of their physical capabilities. In 
n, I wrestled with each of them al- 
most daily while they were growing up, 
nd that contact helped them too. (To 
their amusement, now that they can 
both pin me with ease, I have suddenly 
lost interest in wrestlingas an education- 
al tool). 

(3) I took my sons to see Francis Cop- 
pola's The Godfather the way some par 
nts take their children to Sunday 
school. I explained the film and what 


aw me, and 


By ASA BABER 


THE WISDOM OF 
DON CORLEONE 


could be learned from it, becau: 
terms of preparing your children for the 
real world, the wisdom of Marlon Bran: 
do's Don Corleone is true w 
was a man who tried to te: 
how the world really operates 

“I worked my whole life—and I neve 
apologized—to take care of my family. I 
refused to be a fool. But I never wanted. 
this for you,” the don tells his son 
Michael shortly before he dies. "I spent 
my life trying not to be careless.” Then 
he tells his son what will happen after his 
death. Don Barzini, the head of another. 
New York Mafia family, will set up a 
mecting with Michael—and at that meet- 
g, Michael will be assassinated. “Now 
sten, whoever comes to you with this 
Ba meeting, he's the traitor. Don't 
forget that," Don Corleone says. 

Sal Tessio, supposedly a trusted mem- 
of the Corleone clan, fulfills the 
prediction. At the don's funeral, 
ssio approaches Michael to propose 
the meeting with Barzini. “1 always 
thought it would be Clemenza,” the Cor- 
leone consigliere, Tom Hagen, says tc 
Michael. "No, the smart mov 
Michael say › was always smart- 
er.” And then Michael tells Tom that he 
plans to delay the meeting. "I'm going 
to wait until after the baptism [of my 
nephew],” he says. 


What is the significance of wh 
Michael says to Tom? It shows he has 
heeded his father's instruction. Michael 
not sure whom he can trust, so he art- 
Шу misleads Tom, his adopted brother. 
Michael does not wait until after the bap- 
tism to eliminate Barzini and company. 
He makes his move during the baptism. 
He has kept his own counsel and func- 
tioned like one of Machiavelli's shrewd 
princes. He was the prince, Barzini the 
betrayer, Tessio the dupe. 

The Godfather as a role model? Some 
people will be amused by this contrarian 
advice on fathering. “Raise our children 
as hoodlums? Гуе never heard of such 
counseling for fathers,” for example. 
Just look at today’s parenting books. 
They emphasize sweetness and inno- 
cence and are written by warm and cud- 
dly professors and psychiatr 
them, you would think that a man’s life is 
nothing but one big therapy session, and 
that if all men would simply hug and 
make up, all would be well with the 
world. "Where is the kindness and gen- 
tleness and nurtu ` readers will ask. 
“What a terrible vision you have of the 
orld. Why would you want to pass it on 
to your sons?” 

I followed Don Corleone's model of 
fathering because it fulfilled my sons 
needs, and I am not ashamed of it. It was 
my job to prepare them for the world. In 
this supposedly new age, a lot of people 
would have us believe that between an- 
tioxidant vitamin pills and a new nation- 
alth plan, we have found peace. 


ate seminars and 12-step prog) 
pseudopsychotherapy on talk shows. 
his culture prepares people for con- 
sumption, not treachery. hp aises gulli- 
bility and m bels it as innocence. But 
that approach 10 a dangerous world is 
romantic crap, and we should guard 
nst it. The 21st century will not be 
try, and our children will prevail only 
skills of 


pr 
if they are taught the darker 
vival. 

There are worthwhile things to be 
ned from Don Corleone, and the 
most important is this: Teach your chil- 
dren how the world is, not how you wish 
could be, and give them the skills to 
e in the chaos that will be theirs. 

t is good parenting. 


su 


WOMEN 


I n lost when it comes to the status of 
the backlash. There was feminism 
and a male backlash against feminism, 
then a feminist backlash against the male 
backlash. Now there seems to be—cor- 
rect me if I'm wrong—a male backlash 
against the feminist backlash. My head is 
swimming. As a feminist, do 1 like men 
now? Do they like me? Should we com- 
тепсе to tear out each other's throats? 
Or is it time for meaningful dialogue? 
Here's the biggest question: 

Whose fault is it, anywa; 

The entire country is alive with the 
sound of whining. Feminists have been 
doing it for years; it is my movement's 
least attractive attribute. We tend to 
blame men for everything in a sniveling, 
wimpy sort of way. When someone backs 
us into a corner, we sink to the floor and 
whimper. It’s pathetic. 

Now men are doing it, which is at least 
as unappealing. I was reading a men's 
magazine today, and it was full of tor- 
ment: What if someone accuses us of ac- 
quaintance rape? Why do we have to 
know how to cook? What about our 
rights as fathers? What about our rights 
as men? Why do we always feel like walk- 
ing wallets? Why are feminists such ball 
busters? Why do women tell us that 
everything we do is wrong? 

Here's a riddle: How many masculin- 


ists does it take to screw in a light bulb? ` 


Answer: That's not funny. 

Guys, masculinists, sweat-lodge devo- 
tees, for your own sakes, lighten up. 
You're going to give yourselves heart at- 
tacks. We're not listening to you anyway. 

When I hear men complaining about 
their lot in life, my stomach goes into a 
knot while all the injustices perpetrated 
against women boil up inside my brain. 
So you don't want to be accused of ac- 
quaintance rape? Well, buddy, how do 
you think it feels to be raped by an ac- 
quaintance? You don't want to cook? For 
how many centuries were we expected 
to do every lick of housework? Your 
rights as fathers? How come so many of 
you never stick around Jong enough to 
claim them? Men's rights? Do me a fuck- 
ing favor! Walking wallets? Well, who 
has the money? Ball busters? Who has 
the balls? Everything you do is wrong. 

When men hear this kind of stuff, 
their stomachs knot up and they attack. 
Then women go insane because we're 
being attacked by men. No- 


By CYNTHIA HEIMEL 


body listens to anybody and everybody 
goes off and sulks and no one gets laid. 
What with this progression of blame and 
counterblame, the frustration level be- 
tween the sexes has shot off the graph. 

I propose we all just stop in mid-sen- 
tence. No more whining on either side. 
People who whine might actually enjoy 
their martyrdom, because if it didn't sat- 
isfy them somehow, they would stop 
whining and do something. But whining 
predudes action. Whining is as cozy as 
flypaper. It freezes you into victim status 
and makes you unpopular at parties. 

There is a new trend in feminism—an- 
tivictim feminism. A bunch of young 
whippersnappers. la ike lll (es 
feminists for seeing themselves as vic- 
tims. I want to hit them. Many women 
are victims. So are many men. Society 
loves to punish its victims: welfare moth- 
ers, gays, blacks, the poor. I say punish 
the whiners, not the victims. Praise the 
victims for not going insane, especially 
the victims who pull themselves out of 
the gutter of abuse and fight back 
against their oppressors. 

There is a fabulous irony in this battle 
between men and women. We are on the 
same side. OK, you can stop laughing 
now. We all have big problems with tra- 
ditional relationships—in which men are 
the heads of the households and control 


the fates of their women. 

What are men's main whines? That 
women take them for a ride, take them. 
to the cleaners, bleed them dry. That 
they must have a Porsche and a decent 
stock portfolio to approach women. 
"That men feel like a meal ticket without. 
rights. That in the event of a divorce, the 
woman will get the house, the car, even 
the kids while the man pays for it all and. 
lives on Chinese takeout in a furnished 
studio apartment. 

What are women's whines? That men 
perceive women as having less intrinsic. 
value than themselves. That glass ceil- 
gs prevent them from getting good 
jobs. That women are always responsible 
for the housework and child care, and 
only rich women can afford maids and 
day care. That women are constantly be- 
ing patronized, bullied, even sexually 
harassed. That their bodies are not their 
own, and when those bodies wear out, 
they'll be dumped for a younger model. 

Men don't want to be success objects, 
women don't want to be sex objects. We 
both want to eschew traditional relation- 
ships for something more newfangled 
and equal. But there'sa teensy snag. 

Even as men complain that women 
want to be taken care of, they still are 
loath to relinquish one iota of control ei- 
ther in relationships or in the workplace. 
And as women complain that men de- 
mand total control, they still expect men 
to be completely responsible for them. 

We all want it both ways. It won't 
work. We must make sacrifices. 

Men must give up ruling the roost and 
let the little women get big and strong. 
‘There can be no complaints when din- 
ner is late or nonexistent, if dark roots 
show and the occasional leg is unwaxed. 
Your mate may no longer be a glorified 
concubine, but she'll share your burdens 
and won't bleed you dry. Ifa woman de- 
mands that you become a prince on a 
white charge: 

Women must stop wheedling and ma- 
nipulating their men when they want a 
new sofa. We must not pout and toss our 
curls like little girls who need daddy's 
permission, or use sex as a power tool. 
We must be prepared to shoulder equal 
burdens or sacrifice all rights to equal 
opportunities. If a mate demands that 
we impersonate an inflatable doll, just 
say “Get a grip.” 


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T thought I had experienced everything 
in the erotic world until the night my 22- 
year-old girlfriend came into my bed- 
room stark naked, holding three large 
oranges and a knife. She carved a hole in 
the end of the first one and allowed the 
juice to drip all over my genitals. She 
cut the second one into four wedges, 
squeezed them and licked the juice off 
my scrotum. She then forced the head of 
my erect penis into the hole of the first 
orange, gently squeezing and turning 
the orange until I came. She halved the 
third orange and rubbed it all over her 
body, which I licked clean. Then she 
asked me to squirt the juice directly into 
her vagina. Have you ever heard of hav- 
ing sex with citrus fruit? My girlfriend 
says citric acid fights infection. Is that 
true?—F. B., Hesperia, Michigan. 

Sounds as if you had a delicious time. 
Your girlfriend is an inspired and imagina- 
tive woman, but her claim that citric acid 
fights infection is false. Citric acid will sting 
when applied to a cut, but it is not an anti- 
septic. However, you needn't worry about 
scurvy in the near future. 


V have yet to pick up å woman's maga- 
zine that doesn't have an article saying 
women want more romance, or that men 
want more sex. While I know what sex 
is, I could use some help defining ro- 
mance.—D. L., New Orleans, Louisiana. 

Romance is what happens while you are 
making plans for sex. Psychologists, sociolo- 
gists and anthropologists have studied this 
topic for years. Here are some findings: 
When men and women were asked to define 
romance, there wasn't much disagreement 
between them. Both said that taking walks, 
kissing and dining by candlelight were ro- 
mantic. The men also enjoyed holding 
hands, making love and sitting in front of a. 
fireplace, while the women preferred slow 
dancing, giving or receiving gifts and saying 
and hearing I love you. Other studies have 
reduced passion to variables. If you like 
someone's. personality, find them physically 
attractive and—here's the kicker the feel- 
ing is reciprocal, you have romance. 


On a recent trip overseas I left my 
cameras with the front-desk clerk at the 
hotel, with instructions to store them in 
the security vault. When I went to pick 
them up, I found the cameras stashed 
haphazardly in a corner. Ever since then 
Туе wondered, just how safe are hotel 
safes?—R. T., Los Angeles, California. 
One survey showed that for almost half of 
the victims who had something stolen while 
traveling, the theft occurred from a hotel 
тоот. Using an in-room safe is better than 
leaving valuables on your bed, but a deter- 
mined thief will see the safe as a beacon that 


ys “Look here first.” Properly handled se- 
curity vaults offer the best protection but may 
be more of a hassle than they are worth. Be 
sure to get signed inventories or receipts that 
indicate the value of what's being stored. Lo- 
cal laws may limit hotel liability, and there's 
enough red tape to make collecting anything 
a nightmare. Our advice: If you cant wear 
it, don't take it. Isn't the point of travel to get 
ашау from it ай? 


ДА fashion feature in the May pıavnov 
caught my eye. In it you show conserva- 
tive business attire, then contrast it with 
casual office clothes. I dress down on Fri- 
days, but if I want to hang out downtown 
after work Monday through Thursday, 
Um stuck in my conservative clothes. 
What can you suggest?—S. L., Green- 
wich, Connecticut. 

Change your drawers—or rather, what 
you stash in your desk drawers. Keep one or 
two pullovers or cardigans and a knit polo 
or banded-collar shirt. Don't go overboard— 
you don't want your co-workers to think you 
live in your office. With a little imagination, 
you can have a decent alter ego. And next 
Life, move to the city. 


Bam considering having a sunroof in- 
stalled in my car. What's it going to cost 
me? I've also heard they sometimes 
leak.—K. B., Hammond, Indiana. 
Sunroofs have come a long way since they 
were introduced to the U.S. by Heinz 
Prechter, a German businessman, about 30 
years ago. If properly installed and cared 
for, you shouldn't have major problems. You 
can prolong the life of a manual sunroof's 
silicone seal by applying a lubricant at least 
once a year, and more frequently if you live 
їп ап area that has lots of rain or frigid tem- 


ILLUSTRATION BY PATER SATO 


peratures. Prices, including installation, be- 
gin at about $100, If you opt for a power sun- 
roof, plan on shelling out at least $1000 and 
cleaning out the water drainage tubes once 
in a while. In both cases, it's wise to insist on 
original-equipment manufacturers” parts. 


Here's a question you probably don't 
get too often. I have been celibate for al- 
most two years. Now I find myself inter- 
ested in a woman—and the sexual at- 
traction is palpable. I'm worried about 
what to say, not to mention how I will 
perform. Do I tell her she is my first 
partner in a while, or do I keep silent 
and hope I don't come in ten seconds?— 
Е W., New York, New York. 

Keeping quiet is a bad idea, and if it’s 
coupled with a ten-second ride, you'll have 
been a deceitful partner and a lousy lover. 
Tell her she’s the first woman in a long time 
to give you the fever—she may be flattered. 
Then, if your initial performance is weak, 
you'll both be comfortable knowing that your 
batteries are fully charged, and extended 
play will not be a problem. Then again, why 
rush to intercourse? Slow down and enjoy all 
the things you've missed—the feel of someone 
else's skin and hair, the sound of someone 
else in bed. Give each other orgasms the old- 
fashioned way—with your fingers, lips and 
tongues. Then put on a condom and last the 
rest of the night. 


MI, wife and I enjoy erotic videos as an 
occasional enhancement to our lovemak- 
ing. Most films just seem to cram as 
many sex acts as possible into the barest 
plot imaginable. We would like to see 
films that are appropriate for couples 
and that are sensitive to how a woman 
experiences sex. We have heard that 
there are some studios producing such 
films and that they use female directors. 
Can you suggest some?—E. Z., Colum- 
bus, Ohio. 

Caballero Video in Van Nuys, California 
(800-269-4457) and Femme Productions in 
New York (212-226-9330) are two good 
sources for the kinds of films you want. There 
are a lot of X-rated movies by female direc- 
tors, but don’t expect them to be more sensi- 
tive. Sex researcher Patti Britton studied 22 
porn films made between 1980 and 1990 by 
women directors, then compared them with 
films made by men. She found few differ- 
ences. Both male- and female-directed films 
took about the same time to get to the first sex 
act (an average of five minutes) and showed 
the same number of sex acts (an average of 
seven, with a range from one to 33). The 
women in femporn tended to hold their part- 
пег penis more, to assume a woman-on-lop 
position facing their lover and to show ex- 
citement by heavy breathing. Å male-directed 
‚film was more likely to focus on erect nipples 39 


and facial come shots. In every other area— 
plot, roles, images of women, frequency of 
pseudo-violent or coercive sexual acts—the 
films were more alike than not. Britton 
pointed out that one female director, Candi- 
da Royalle, consciously broke genre rules— 
her feminist porn films do not feature come 
shots, and more lime is spent on foreplay. 
The solution lies not with the director but 
with the audience. The images on the screen 
are like candles—they establish a mood, but 
you light the fire. 


PLAYBOY 


What is the etiquette for dealing with 
telemarketers? I can't get through din- 
ner without some jerk trying to sell me a 
credit card or storm windows. I don't 
have an answering machine because 
screening junk calls is as much of a pain 
as answering them in the first place — 
J- P, Evanston, Illinois. 

A simple fuck you’ won't suffice? Just 
hang up—the bozos are, after all, invading 
your privacy. Contact the Telephone Prefer- 
ence service of the Direct Marketing Asso- 
ciation, PO. Box 9008, Farmingdale, NY 
11735. Give your name, address and tele- 
phone number and tell them you don't want 
to be bothered. You should notice a drop in 
the number of calls after 90 days. The next 
step is to gel an unlisted number. 


IM, husband and I have been together 
for 20 years and have four children. Our 
sex life is as exciting as ever, but the 
problem is that I cheat on him constant- 
ly. I have even had sex with two guys at 
once. None of these affairs are long- 
standing, and my husband knows noth- 
ing about them. I have no guilt after- 
ward but sometimes feel shame because 
of whom I was with. I practice safe sex, 
so I don't feel that I'm hurting anyone. 
Is this normal behavior for a motherand 
wife?—C. Q., Hartford, Connecticut. 

If you feel a sense of shame, then your be- 
havior is hurting you. If you think your hus- 
band and children are not affected by this, 
it’s time to understand that your actions are 
depriving them of some part of your time, at- 
tention or good humor. Then think about 
how they will feel when they find out—and 
they surely will. You haven't hurt anyone yet. 
Don't mistake dumb luck for innocence. 


Forget the health nazis. The bumper 
sticker on my car says EAT AMERICAN. 
Nothing beats a great steak. My question 
is, Why can't I re-create at home the 
kind of steak I shell out $30 to $60 for on 
a night out?—J. P, Chicago, Illinois. 
It would seem a reasonable challenge. As 
one food writer pointed out, steak houses 
don't have chefs, they have technicians who 
can bring a remarkable slab of meat to per- 
‘fection. Can you match them? Probably not. 
The great steak houses use prime-grade beef 
(only one percent of the beef supply), which 
they buy from special suppliers who dry-age 
(or sometimes vacuum-pack) finely marbled 
40 cuts. Try finding that at your local super- 


market. Assuming that you can, the final 
barrier is heat. Broilermen sear their meat at 
1500 to 1700 degrees Fahrenheit—roughly 
three times hotter than a home stove. You can 
approach these results by coating a steak in 
oil before searing and adding salt or flavored 
butter after cooking. But why bother? If it 
weren't for great steak houses, there would be 
no reason to leave home. 


As if I need more confusion in my life, 
I've heard that there are now both ana- 
log and digital cellular phones. What 
is the difference?—G. Y., Philadelphia, 
Pennsylvani 

Most of the inexpensive portable phones 
that cellular companies now offer are ana- 
log—that i: y send your voice over the 
airwaves. Digital cellular service, which is 
still fairly new, turns your voice into a com- 
puter-like code before transmission, offering 
two benefits. First, your coded voice sounds 
like gibberish to eavesdroppers, so your con- 
versalions are private. Second, digital tech- 
nology enhances cellular capacity, meaning 
fewer disconnections and less interference. 
Also, the digitals are available in the famil- 
iar lightweight sizes that current analog 
phones come in. Nokia, Blaupunkt, NEC 
and Motorola are just a few of the companies 
that sell digital cellular phones. Prices start 
at about $300—possibly less if you can strike 
a deal with your phone company. 


Three months ago my friend’s apart- 
ment was burglarized, and she hasn't 
been too cheery since. Apparently, the 
insurance company covered only a frac- 
tion of her loss. Now that I’m paranoid, 
is there anything I should know before I 
call an insurance agent?—A. C., Los An- 
geles, California. 

Be sure to ask for replacement-cost cover- 
age, which guarantees that your payoff will 
be enough to replace the items that were 
stolen or destroyed. Otherwise, you'll get on- 
ly the depreciated value, calculated by the in- 
surance company (you can imagine how that 
works). Have the agent explain each section 
of the policy, and ask about “floater” cover- 
age for valuable items. Keep an inventory, 
photographs, receipts and appraisals off- 
premises to avoid too much interaction later 
with prickly claims adjusters. 


You may not want to touch this, but a 
friend told me that there are document- 
ed cases in which farmers have died afier 
having sex with their tractors. Please tell 
me this isn't true, or I may never be able 
to eat vegetables again—T. L., Iowa 
City, Iowa. 

Researchers writing in the “Journal of 
Forensic Sciences” described two recent cases 
involving men who have strangled them- 
selves while secking solitary sexual thrills. 
The first man was found hanged from a rope 
attached to the raised shovel of a back- 
hoe tractor, which he had nicknamed Stone. 
He had previously written along poem about 
the tractor and mentioned it affectionately in 


a Christmas newsletter to friends. The sec- 
ond man was found asphyxiated under the 
scoop of his tractor, to which he had attached 
an apparatus that would suspend him up- 
side down. He was nude except for a pair of 
knee-high nylons and a pair of women’s red 
shoes with eight-inch heels. We judge not. 


IM, friends and 1 are having a debate. 
What is the most frequently stolen car in 
America?— |. W., New York, New York. 

Because professional thieves strip stolen 
cars for parts, which they then sell to un- 
scrupulous body-shop owners, the hottest 
cars are several years old. (Older models are 
also popular because petty thieves need a few 
years to figure out how to beat factory-in- 
stalled antitheft devices.) Topping the list are 
Cutlass Supremes and Chevy Camaros from 
the mid-Eighties. If you want to know how 
thieves rate current cars, those with the high- 
est ratios of pinched to produced include the 
Mazda 626/MX-6 and RX-7, the Ford Mus- 
tang, the Volkswagen Cabriolet, the Nissan 
300ZX, the Toyota Supra, the Cadillac 
Seville and Brougham, the Porsche 928 and 
the Geo Metro. Station wagons are at the 
bottom of the list. Obviously, automakers 
don't brag about these preferences, but in- 
surance companies find the numbers useful 
in determining your rates. 


IM, wife and I have been together for 
more than eight years and have a great 
sex life. I love performing oral sex on 
her whenever she wants and almost al- 
ways bring her to orgasm. But when she 
performs oral sex on me, it is usually just 
for a few minutes of foreplay and rarely 
to completion. The problem is not with 
ability—she gives great head. She just 
seems to get tired or loses interest after a 
short time. I don’t take more than ten or 
15 minutes to come, and I have an aver- 
age-size penis. Do you have any ideas 
that might persuade my wife to bea little 
more generous with her oral talents?— 
D. B., San Francisco, California. 

It can get aufully lonely down there, espe- 
cially if she's performing without feedback. 
Moan, groan, wriggle, talk dirty, touch her, 
scratch her back, lift her up and kiss her on 
the mouth, beg for more, go down on her at 
the same time, take it away from her for a 
few minutes, ask her to kiss your balls, or put 
‘your penis in her pussy then bach in her 
mouth. Then come. It's supposed to be a blow 
job, not a career. 


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 ай 
letters to The Playboy Advisor; PLAYBOY, 680 
North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 
60611. The most provocative, pertinent 
queries will be presented in these pages 
each month. 


THE PLAYBOY FORUM 


e... LOONY TOONS » 000 


IN 


Recent statistics 

confirm that 

Florida. known 

around the 

world for its 

tourist murders and seri- 

al killers, has the nation's highest per 

capita violent crime rate: one every 
three minutes, 14 seconds. 

Florida is lowering the boom on 
criminals, and residents of Pinellas 
County awoke on March 29 to this 
headline in the St. Petersburg Times an- 
nouncing it: “ВОП ЕП ANGEL” CARTOON- 
IST SENTENCED. 

Say what? 

Four days carlicr, sheriff’s deputics 
had shackled 23-year-old Michael 
Christopher Diana, loaded him into a 
paddy wagon and hauled him off to 
jail pending sentence. Basically, Di- 
ana was in trouble for drawing and 
selling “obscene” car- 
toons, which appear in 
his homemade, photo- 
copied comic book 
Boiled Angel, a “zine.” 

That an amatcur il- 

lustrator could face 
three years in jail for 
selling his work to 
an undercover agent 
seems a stretch even in 
the upside-down world 
of Florida justice. But 
after a four-day trial, 
Michael Diana was 
convicted on three 
counts—two of distrib- 
uting obscene material 
and one of advertising 
obscene material. 


The ugly hum of intellectual lan- 
guor filled the courtroom the mo- 
ment the trial opened. Oliver Wen- 
dell Holmes would not be presiding. 
The jury would consist of no one re- 
motely like Mike Diana, no one who 
could tell a zine from a supermarket 
flicr, no one who read anything more 
controversial than Better Homes and 
Gardens. Rather, jurors would be 
those nourished on Sally Jessy 
Raphaél and interviews with Jeffrey 


By CHUCK SHEPHERD 


Dahmer and the Manson women. 

Picture the comic impressionist 
John Byner, with a beard, attempting 
a kindly judge with a singsong voice, 
and you have the Honorable County 
Judge Walter Fullerton. Imagine the 
actor Robert Downey Jr. after six 
months on free weights, and you have 
subsonic-voiced Assistant State’s At- 
torney Stuart Baggish. Call Central 
Casting for a “shy, sensitive artist,” 
and Mike Diana will politely stand 
outside the door for an hour or two 
before finally asking permission to 
comein. . 

Like hundreds of artists of his gen- 
cration, Diana has rejected the gal- 
lery and the art-show-at-the-mall. He 
turned to the photocopier to produce 
zines of his work, which he sells al- 
most exclusively through the mail to 


EF 


other artists and zine fans. Boiled An- 
gel has a tiny circulation and is always 
produced at a financial loss. 

Diana's style is neither polished пог 
subtle, and his subject matter is usu- 
ally the ugly side of life—religious 
hypocrisy, violence, parental failings. 
His images are often sexual— priests 
sodomizing children, and women 
portrayed as victims of rape and 
abuse. Titles such as Baby Fucked Dog 
Food and God Up My Ass are poor 


raw outrage of 

the drawings. 

Boiled Angel 

features page 

after page of intricate 

monster amalgams that often are 
emerging from toilets, some driven 
by their gargantuan, deformed sex 
organs, many emblazoned with sym- 
bols of the Antichrist. 

Asboth an artist and a zine publish- 
er of others’ works, Diana's sense of 
humor is macabre. In one issue he 
ran fiction by convicted murderer 
G.J. Schaefer; in another he pub- 
lished a summary of correspondence 
and conversations with imprisoned 
serial killer Ottis Toole. The piece 
that gave the jury the biggest fit was a 
12-step list, How to Be a Successful Se- 
rial Killer, lifted from an anarchist 

zine. In retrospect, 
Diana should have 
added an I-don't-advo- 
cate-serial-murder 
disclaimer. The jury, 
believe it or not, ap- 
peared to think he was 
publishing a textbook 
on murder. 
Actually, the First 
Amendment protects a 
murder textbook. Vio- 
lence wasn't the prob- 
lem; the occasional 
genital raised the issue 
of obscenity. In 1973, 
the Supreme Courts 
decision in Miller vs. 
California provided the 
definition of obscenity: 
Will an average per 
son, applying contemporary commu- 
nity standards, find the material tak- 
en as a whole to appeal to prurient 
interests? Does the material depict or 
describe, in a patently offensive way, 
sexual conduct that is specifically 
defined by applicable state law? Does 
the material, taken as a whole, lack se- 
rious literary, artistic, political or sci- 
entific value? 

The answer to all these questions 
must be yes. The prosecutors focused 
on community standards. “Pinellas 


41 


42 


County has its 
own identity,” 
Assistant 
State's. Attor- 
ney Baggish 
told the jury 
in his closing 
argument. 
He implored 
jurors not 
to accept 
the standards of 
“bathhouses” or “crack alleys.” Boiled 
Angel “goes all over the world,” Bag- 
gish warned, “and it says ‘Largo, Flori- 
da.’ Nice reputation for Pinellas Coun- 
ty, don't you think?” 


Diana’s lawyer, Luke Lirot, argued 
that the material could not possibly ap- 
peal to a prurient interest in sex. His 
reasoning: The sexual images were too 
grotesque and deformed to be sexy. He 
argued further that, whatever the out- 
come of that debate, the work did not 
lack serious artistic (or lit- 
erary or political) value. 

But Judge Fullerton 
seemed to lose control of 
both the issues and the ju- 
ту. Contrary to the Miller 
majority, Fullerton al- 
lowed the jury to decide 
the case on its own prej- 
udices and tastes—not 
on community standards. 
The decision seems to 
have been made solely on 
the jury’s distaste for Di- 
ana's drawings. 

The prosecution's focus 
on local standards and 
tastes was breathtaking. 
Its expert witness, local 
forensic psychologist Sid- 
ney Merin, reinforced it. 
In a half-hour incantation during 
which he was shown drawing after 
drawing, Merin droned: “That would 
appeal to a deviant personality.” “That 
would turn on a deviant personality.” 
“That would get a rise out of a deviant 
personality.” It appeared that, to him, 
any rounded object was a breast, any 
protrusion a penis, including one sur- 
real moment when he identified the 
male organ from the mere outline of 
the state of Florida, which Diana had 
helpfully labeled FLORIDA. Another re- 
markable identification—a pencil as an 
object of prurient interest—caused a 
murmur among reporters in the 
gallery, 

Merin, for his $4000 fee, recited the 


often-heard censor’s logic that written 
material can cause deviant behavior. 
Fredric Wertham, in his now-ques- 
tioned exposé Seduction of the Innocent, 
tried making the case that comics lead 
to juvenile delinquency. That's the 
same logic many antiporn activists use 
in blaming abhorrent behavior on 
magazines. “This is the kind of stuff 
Danny Rolling [recently sentenced to 
death for the Gainesville, Florida mur- 
ders] started with,” warned Baggish. 

Although the dominant theme of Di- 
ana’s material was “violence,” Merin 
said that he believes violence and sex 
derive from the same impulse in the 
deviant personality. Diana's mutilated, 
barely recognizable bodies are “turn- 
ons.” Baggish later spelled it out for 
the jury: First the deviant looks at 
drawings, then pictures, then films and 
finally “he’s into the reality.” Never 
mind that a serial killer such as Ted 
Bundy (who was caught in Florida) 
could find inspiration in anything, 
even cheerleader magazines. 


FIN 


Particularly damning was Merin's 
reference to penile plethysmographic 
studies, in which a subject’s erection is 
measured after he is shown erotica. 


Certainly, pedophiles get a rise out of 
photographs of cute kids, but could 
Diana's crude caricatures generate a 
hard-on in any man? "Same thing," 
said Merin. The distinction between 
drawings and photos is less important 
in Florida because the legislature long 
ago declared drawings to be the same 
as photographic depictions. 

Equally as anachronistic was the 
Pinellas County view of art and litera- 
ture, again underscored by the prose- 
cution's experts, a pair of professors 


from the Presbyterian-founded Eckerd 
College. Both stated that Boiled Angel 
was not "serious literature” or "serious 
art” (suggesting that the zine does not 
belong with the classics). But the legal 
test requires only that the work have 
some “serious value” as literature or 
art. Furthermore, each witness, trying 
to characterize a zine genre with which 
he obviously was unfamiliar, wound up 
playing a shell game with Boiled Angel. 
The literature expert said it was not lit- 
erature, it was journalism and art; the 
art expert said it wasn't art because Di- 
ana is actually a “storyteller.” 

Novelist and English professor Ster- 
ling Watson called Boiled Angel a “mad 
rant.” But if the jury had read the 
gang-rape passage from Watson's own 
novel The Calling, Diana might have 
had company in the paddy wagon. Art 
professor and sometime cartoonist 
James Crane told the jury that if “the 
arts community” has never heard of it, 
or if you can't hang it on the wall, its 
not art. Make that three in the paddy 
wagon if the jury had been able to pon- 
der the cartoon Crane 
said he submitted 30 
years ago to a now- 
defunct radical maga- 
zine, in which a man is 
sitting on a corpse, carv- 
ing it up and eating it 
piece by piece, with the 
caption, “It’s all a matter 
of taste.” 

. 


The pressure was on 
Judge Fullerton to top 
the beating given to com- 
mon sense. He did not 
disappoint. 

Rejecting the prosecu- 
tor's call for two years in 
the slammer, the judge 
sentenced Diana to three 
years’ probation, a $3000 fine, psychi- 
atric evaluation and counseling (if 
necessary) and 1248 hours of commu- 
nity service at the Salvation Army Cor- 
rectional Services. Diana was also or- 
dered to enroll in a college-level course 
in journalism ethics or journalistic pro- 
fessionalism, “so you'll learn what it's 
like to be а responsible publisher,” and 
to stay away, by court order, from peo- 
ple under the age of 18. Finally, not on- 
ly is Diana to refrain from publishing 
“material that could be considered ob- 
scene,” he also is forbidden to “create 
material that could be considered ob- 
scene, even for [his] own us: 

To enforce that order, the probation 
officer will be permitted to conduct 


КИШИНИ; ок» м 


warrantless searches of Diana's home 
to evaluate his latest drawings. When 
anticensorship forces decry mind con- 
trol, it is usually hyperbole. Pinellas 
County takes its mind control literally. 


At their core, First Amendment cases 
are culture wars, and the American jus- 
tice system, the fairest in the world, is 
impotent if judges and juries fail to 
comprehend defendants’ behavior in 
the context of cultural differences. 


Gangsta rap analyzed by white America 
is not an expression of rage and borc- 
dom but a call for white genocide. Eval- 
uated by mainstream America, Boiled 
Angel is not an art zine but a handbook 
on sexual sadism. 

The First Amendment and commu- 
nity standards are adversarial. The for- 
mer protects the minority from the 
tyranny of the majority, the artist from 
the indifference or hostility of the 
moment. 

Diana's work covers much of the 


Se 


st. johns county, florida defines its b 


Murders, rapes and drug abuse 
have taken their toll on Florida's 
tourism, so towns and counties 
have started a cru- 
sede to curtail crime. 
Not oblivious to this, 
Florida is cracking 
down on dangerous 
acts wherever and 
however they may 
appear. How? For 
one, by banning 
thong bikinis. But 
before they can be 
outlawed, the law 
must describe just 
what they reveal. 
Here's an example: 
"The area at the 
rear of the human 
body (sometimes re- 
ferred to as the glu- 
teus maximus) that 
lies between two 
imaginary straight 
lines running parallel 
to the ground when a 
person is standing, 
the first or top such. 
line being one-half 
inch below the top of 
the vertical cleavage 
of the nates (i.e., the 
prominence formed 
by the muscles running from the 
back of the hip to the back of the 
leg) and the second or bottom such 
line being one-half inch above the 
lowest point of the curvature of the 
fleshy protuberance (sometimes re- 
ferred to as the gluteal fold), and be- 
tween two imaginary straight lines, 


one on each side of the body (the 
“outside lines”), which outside lines 
are perpendicular to the ground and 


to the horizontal lines described 
above and which perpendicular out- 
side lines pass through the outer- 
most point(s) at which each nate 
meets the outer side of each leg. 
Notwithstanding the above, but- 
tocks shall not include the leg, the 
hamstring muscle below the gluteal 


uttocks 


same ground as the immensely success- 
ful movie Silence of the Lambs—albeit 
without the Hollywood budget, pro- 
duction values or press agents. His 
work is not pretty, not popular and, in 
the hearts and minds of the Pinellas 
County jurors, not permissible. 

Don't they have any sense of irony 
and nuance? 

When Mike Diana tries to draw pret- 
ty flowers and trees, irony and nuance 
will be about the only tools the court 
will allow him. 


fold, the tensor fasciae latae muscle 
or any of the above-described por- 
tion of the human body that is be- 
tween either (i) the 
left inside perpen- 
dicular line and the 
left outside perpen- 
dicular line or (ii) the 
right inside perpen- 
dicular line and the 
right outside per- 
pendicular line. For 
the purposes of the 
previous sentence, 
the left inside per- 
pendicular line shall 
be an imaginary 
straight line on the 
left side of the anus 
(i) that is perpendic- 
ular to the ground 
and to the horizontal 
lines described 
above and (ii) that is 
one third of the dis- 
tance from the anus 
to the left outside 
line, and the right in- 
side perpendicular 
line shall be an 
imaginary straight 
line on the right side 
of the anus (i) that 
is perpendicular to 
the ground and to the horizontal 
lines described above and (ii) that is 
one third of the distance from the 
anus to the right outside line. (The 
above description can generally be 
described as covering one third of 
the buttocks centered over the cleav- 
age for the length of the cleavage.)" 


43 


44 


R E 


FULL-COURT PRESS 

Edward Cone wrote a tre- 
mendous article on the reli- 
gious right (“The Religious 
Right's Full-Court Press,” The 
Playboy Forum, April). Jay Seku- 
low, chief counsel for the Amer- 
ican Center for Law and Jus- 
tice, says the religious right is 
“a SWAT team of freedom 
fighters poised and eager to de- 
fend [religious] rights.” Howev- 
er, Sekulow and Pat Robertson 
are fighting for the rights of on- 
ly one religion, Christianity. In 
pushing school prayer, the be- 
liefs and ethics of students other 
than Christians will be tram- 
pled. Trying to indude pagan 
and other non-Christian ideas 
in these prayers will mean fac- 
ing Sekulows wrath again. 
What school system has the 
monetary resources to take on 
the ACLJ repeatedly? The free- 
dom to worship as one pleases 
is valuable to the people of this 
country. When this freedom is 
abused by the likes of Pat 
Robertson, there is a problem. 
We must not allow these ex- 
tremists to force their way into 
our lives and take away our 

right to worship as we wish. 

Mike Conway 
Gillette, Wyoming 


Jay Sekulow says the ACLJ's goal is 
to “reclaim the culture for Christ.” 
Since the culture never belonged to 
Christ, reclaiming it for him is absurd. 
What frightens me more than anything 
is the thought that any religion could 
have the power to shape our laws. Of 
course, the Christian right believes that 
it works for the common good. But to 
allow it to do so would be a move back 
to the English church-and-state society 
that this country’s founders came here 
to escape. 

G.C.S. 

Hanover, New Hampshire 


I was distresed to read of the 
Browns suit against the Woodland 
Joint Unified School District over the 
Impressions reading series and their mis- 
guided beliefs on Wicca witchcraft. 
Wiccans practice a peaceful, respectful 
and positive existence. Wiccans do not 
presume to choose spiritual paths nor 
do they lay claim to a "true" way to the 


ا 


FOR THE RECORD 


@ A FULL DECKE 


“Pornography functions in the manner of a 
good myth. It provides an imaginary explo- 
ration of all the possibilities that attract and con- 
stantly incite us to keep reshuffling the deck.” 

— FROM THE BOOK The Jaguar and the Anteater, A 

STUDY OF THE ORIGIN AND MEANING OF PORNOG- 


RAPHY, BY ANTHROPOLOGIST BERNARD ARCAND 


E 


campus. 

(6) To publicize the gospel or 
hand out tracts on campus. 

(7) To indude religious 
themes or points of view that 
are relevant to school projects. 

(8) To study and observe 
Christmas and Easter holidays 
on campus. 

(9) To voluntarily participate 
in prayer at school. 

(10) Not to participate in ac- 
tivities (or possibly classes) that 
conflict with sincerely held reli- 
gious beliefs. 

It look as if Donald Wildmon 
has finally caught on to the val- 
ue of free speech as protected 
by the First Amendment. 

Joe Langston 
Morris Plains, New Jersey 


R 


PRIVACY 

After reading Jeffrey Roth- 
feder's “Twenty Facts About 
Privacy” (The Playboy Forum, 
April), I bumped into a friend 
at a bank. My friend is a con- 
tractor and is regularly paid 
cash. He told the teller that he 
wanted a cashier's check and 
that he intended to pay for it in 
cash. The teller excused herself 


deity. The Constitution assures our 
right to freedom of religion. Many of 
our ancestors came here with that 
thought in mind. 
Jaye Moore 
Atlanta, Georgia 


I have in my hands a recent copy of 
the Reverend Donald Wildmon's Amer- 
ican Family Association Journal. In it, 
Wildmon offers for duplication and 
distribution a bill of rights for those 
students at the mercy of our pagan 
public schools. Wildmon proposes that 
the Constitution guarantee to these 
students the following rights: 

(1) To meet with other Christian stu- 
dents on campus for prayer, Bible 
study and worship. 

(2) To form and meet with Bible 
clubs and prayer groups on campus. 

(3) To share one’s Christian faith on 
campus. 

(4) To wear Christian T-shirts or 
symbols to express one's beliefs. 

(5) To carry a Bible and to read it, 
during unassigned reading time, on 


and returned shortly with an- 
other woman who looked very 
serious. Ms. Authority began to ask my 
friend his address, account number 
and other questions. Why? According 
to Ms. Authority, he was “dealing in 
cash.” I turned to my friend and said, 
“All you have to do to avoid this hassle 
is to get cashier's checks at different 
places.” Ms. Authority became very in- 
dignant and said, “If you leave 1 will 
turn you in.” For what? Now its a 
crime to have cash? 
Ron Clementsen 
Palo Cedro, California 
Rothfeder responds: The banks are trying 
to protect themselves with paper from money- 
laundering charges. Secondarily, our cul- 
ture is trying to make individuals join the 
data network with this sort of disincentive. 


We would like to hear your point of 
view. Send questions, information, opinions 
and quirky stuff to: The Playboy Forum 
Reader Response, PLAYBOY, 680 North 
Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 6061 1. 
Fax number: 312-951-2939. E-mail: 


forum@playboy.com. 


A little more than a year ago 
the ACLU asked public opinion 
researchers Albert and Susan 
Davis Cantril to conduct a sur- 
vey of Americans’ attitudes to- 
ward personal privacy—a hith- 
епо unexplored aspect of public 
opinion. The report is based on 
data collected through approxi- 
mately 1000 45-minute in-per- 
son interviews with a represen- 
tative cross section of American 
adults. The Benchmark Survey 
оп Privacy found that concerns 
about personal privacy run deep 
among Americans, and that we 
tend not to agree on these is- 
sues. Even on hotly debated 


matters, such as abortion and 
gay rights, an attitude of “live 
and let live” prevails. For exam- 
ple, while six in ten respondents 
agreed with the statement “ho- 
mosexuality is against God's 
law,” 80 percent of these same 
people agreed that homosexual 
relationships between consent- 
ing adults should be private. 
One of the study's more sur- 
prising findings is that Chris- 
tians who identify themselves as 
evangelical or born-again hold 
views that are mainstream, even 
on politically cha: issues. 
Three fourths ern 
Christians believe that govern- 


ment should have no role in en- 
couraging the Judeo-Christian 
tradition. Even on the issue of 
abortion, 72 percent of self-de- 
scribed born-again Christians 
agree that abortion is a woman's 
right, even though they may dis- 
approve of ending a pregnancy. 
I believe that the study is a sig- 
nificant contribution to existing 
literature on public attitudes to- 
ward civil liberties in general, 
and privacy and personal auton- 
omy in particular. 

Ira Glasser 

Executive Director 

American Civil Liberties Union 

New York, New York 


Can your employer ask about: 


“is PRIVACY MATTERS 


Can't 
say 


erie zen 


Your record of previous employment? 
Your educational background? 
Your age? 


Whether you are married or divorced? 


Whether you have ever used drugs, even 
are not using them now? 


Whether you smoke cigarettes? 


or psychological counselor? 
Whether you are gay or lesbian? 


‘Whether you are HIV-positive or have AIDS? 


if you 


Whether you have ever seen a psychiatrist 


Whether you ever consume alcohol off the job? 
How you might have voted in the last election? 


Would it bother you if 


1% 
2 
6 
13 
4 


little Not at all 
se lg 


The telephone company gave records of 


ur calls to 


a private agency doing a background check on you? 


Credit card companies let mail order companies 
know about purchases on your credit card? 


А health insurance company put medical 
information about you into a computer bank that 
‚others have acoess to? 


Names of videos you may have rented were given to 
someone checking your background? 


Ап insurance company got more information 
than it needed from your doctor? 


A credit rating company gave out information on 
how quickly you pay your bills? 


Your employer gave information about you to 
your health insurance company? 


‘Source: ACLU Benchmark Survey en Privacy (1994) 


THE LAW су LOVE 


when brokenhearied lovers hire attorneys 


Chicago lawyer Sharon Wildey had 
known Oregon rancher Richard 
Springs Ш nine weeks when she brought 
up marriage. Springs proposed and 
they chose a $19,000 engagement ring. 
He also opened a checking account in 
Chicago and gave Wildey signed blank 
checks from it. She promptly wrote 
herself a $6000 loan. But Springs soon 
came to feel that the thrice-married 
Wildey and her children did little to 
make him feel part of the family. 
Wildey wouldn't discuss it. Six weeks 
after he proposed, Springs wrote 
Wildey a letter ending their en- 
gagement with the words “Ours 
is not a good situation for me.” 
He told Wildey she should 
keep the ring and use the 
$10,000 remaining in his Chica- 
go bank account. Wildey sold 
the ring and emptied the ac- 
count. She then sued 
Springs for "breach of 
promise to marry.” A jury 
awarded her $178, ‚000, more than half 
of åt for "pain and suffering.” (This 
award was later reduced by $60,000.) 
Alice Parker, a 23-year-old nursing 
student, often fought about sex with 
her lover, Dr. Ronald Bruner, 11 years 
her senior. Parker felt that premarital 
sex was sinful but agreed to it because 


Dr. Bruner said he loved her. Parker . 


became pregnant twice during their 
two-year affair. She and Bruner decid- 
ed to abort the first pregnancy. The 
two planned a wedding, but Bruner 
later backed out. Their relationship 
ended when Parker, pregnant the sec- 
ond time, decided to have the child. 
Parker sued Bruner for “seduction.” A 
Missouri jury awarded her $75,000. 
The award did not include child sup- 
port, for which she sued separately. 
Frank Zaffere III, a 41-year-old 
lawyer, and Maria Dillon, a 21-year-old 
waitress, were engaged for seven 
months in 1991. Zaffere bought Dillon 
a diamond ring and a fur coat. He also 
paid for her medical expenses, auto 
loan and vacations. In all, he provided 
his fiancée with more than $40,000 in 
gifts and financial help. Then Dillon 
broke the engagement. Zaffere mailed 


by Ted C. Fishman 


her a notice, in compliance with the 
Illinois Breach of Promise Act, saying 
he had suffered "significant actual 
damages in reliance to your promise of 
marriage.” Dillon responded, saying 
"It makes me want to swim across Lake 
Michigan . . . to get as far away from 
him as possible.” Zaffere replied in a 


lawyerly manner, suing Dillon for 
breach of promise and fraud. 


‘These cases, each screwy in its own 
way, used the legal system in an at- 
tempt to salve the heartbreak of ro- 
mance with finance. Courts, of course, 
already sort out failed marriages, and 
lawyers anticipate these failures with 


prenuptial contracts. But our free- 
wheeling, sue-anything-that-moves 
tort system has been largely out-of- 
bounds to jilted lovers. 

This was not always true. In the 19th 
century, disappointed lovers could 
have their day in court. Then, suits 
against men who left women, or who 
sweet-talked them into sex, were com- 
mon. Cold-footed men were hauled 
into court for breach of promise—with 
the more wily ones facing seduction 
charges. The “anti-heartbalm move- 
ment,” which began in 1935, limited 
breach-of-promise and seduction suits. 
‘The impetus came when Roberta West 
Nicholson, an Indiana legislator and 
women's rights advocate, introduced 

a bill to bar the suits in her state. Na- 

tionwide, feminists and female law- 
makers followed Nicholson's lead. 
The legal system, they insisted, 
should not enshrine women as pas- 
sive victims easily preyed on by men. 

If women were to be financially and 

sexually independent, seduc- 

tion and breach-of-promise 

suits had to end. By 1945, 16 

states forbade such suits. In 

the other two thirds, revised 

laws so sharply limited dam- 

ages that only a handful of suits 

were filed until recently. 

A few high-profile cases have re- 

cently dragged breach of promise 

and seduction back into the legal sys-, 

tem. Lawyers contacted by Chicago 

magazine writer Gretchen Reynolds 

for her story on Sharon Wildey said 

Wildey's victory has caused numerous 

inquiries from potential clients won- 

dering if their ill-fated relationships 
qualify for damage settlements 

A woman must, it seems, be por- 
trayed as a helpless, gullible, damaged 
victim to win any money. One juror in 
the Wildey case explained that Springs 
lost because he and his attorney 
seemed mean and arrogant, while 
Wildey came across as calm, nice, polite 
and deeply wounded—someone who 
deserved to “get repaid for what she'd 
had to go through.” The jury in Alice 
Parker's trial appears to have awarded 
her the $75,000 to compensate her 


“dignity and emotional injuries.” 

If a loose-knit group of lawyers who 
call themselves interventionist femi- 
nists gets its way, this view—that 
women are more vulnerable and fall 
more deeply in love—may find its way 
back into mainstream law. Jane Larson, 
an associate law professor at North- 
western University, proposes what she 
calls a “tort of sexual fraud,” a kind of 
romantic affirmative action for women. 
“Women,” she argues in a recent issue 
of the Columbia Law Review, “are desir- 
ing sexual objects who nonetheless live 
under social conditions of unequal sta- 
tus and power that put them at risk of 
injury in their pursuit of sexual self- 
fulfillment.” Larson believes new laws 
would dissuade men from lying and 
breaking promises. “Contemporary 
feminists,” she writes, “must begin the 
work of crafting a sexually nonrepres- 
sive, yet interventionist, regime of sex- 
ual regulation in the interests of 
women. 

Larson's litigious remedy for unhap- 
py affairs resurrects the idea that sex, 
even in romantic relationships, is com- 
merce. Civil courts have long consid- 
ered force and fraud equivalent in 
commercial transactions: Legally, it is 
just as bad to sell someone a $100 stake 
in the Brooklyn Bridge as it is to mug. 
him. By analogy, Larson argues that 
men who lie or break promises to 
women, especially if their lies and 
promises lead to sex, are no better than 
men who force women into sex. 

Women who fall for false promises, 
Larson believes, are actually having sex 
without their consent. "Like other sex- 
ual acts that are not fully consensual,” 
Larson writes, "sex induced by fraud 
has the potential to cause grave physi- 
cal and emotional injury." 

Sharon Wildey' attorney, Terence 
Flynn, also likened sex to commerce. 
"Everyone has been lied to or deceived 
or somehow burned in a relationship," 
Flynn has said. “Why shouldn't that be 
regulated by law? If people don't keep 
their promises in business, and some- 
one is hurt, there's legal recourse. The 
same is true here." 

Larson applauds the successful suit 
by Alice Parker because the jury pun- 
ished breach of promise. But singling 
out the woman as the only victim in a 
relationship in which neither person 
showed much moral strength over- 
looks the means Parker took to force 
Bruner to “consent” to fatherhood. 

Even Larson should have a hard 


time calling a shotgun wedding, or the 
threat of one, conducive to consent. 
One germane issue is whether men 
in relationships lie more frequently 
and more successfully than women do. 
There's little evidence of this, though a 
study at the University of California 
found that 34 percent of the men and 
10 percent of the women admitted they 
had told a lie to help maneuver their 
way into the sack. Almost half of both 
sexes, however, did say they would lie 
about former relationships. The Wildey 
us. Springs trial provides some anecdot- 
alevidence that lying goes both ways. It 
turns out that Wildey had a history of 
suicidal thoughts, depression and ob- 
sessive-compulsive behavior. She also 
had phobias, including a fear of open- 
ing envelopes. She had neglected 
to mention any of this to Springs 
during their whirlwind romance. 
Interestingly, Larson's proposed tort 
includes “silence” as an “actionable 


EE 


“Everyone 
has been lied 
to or deceived 

or somehow 
burned in a 
relationship. 


” 


^ —— шш 


misrepresentation." 

Larson also finds instructive the case 
of Lee Perry, who became pregnant 
with the child of her married lover, 
Richard Atkinson. Perry claimed that 
when she told Atkinson her hopes that 
the two could be parents together, 
Atkinson was sympathetic but encour- 
aged her to put off having a child for 
a year or so. Atkinson allegedly 
promised that "even if they were not 
together in a year" he would impreg- 
nate her. Perry agreed and aborted the 
child. Later, when Atkinson decided he 
wouldn't conceive another child with 
her by any means, Perry sued him for 
fraud and deceit in a California court. 

"The modern tort of sexual fraud," 


[F o R U mp 


Larson writes, “respects the broadest 
range of noncoercive sexual expres- 
sion and will potentially increase the 
quality (and perhaps even the quantity) 
of sexual interaction.” Does Larson be- 
lieve that divorce laws have helped 
couples stay happily married? The on- 
ly people likely to be cheered by seduc- 
tion and breach-of-promise suits are 
lawyers. For the rest of us, the suits will 
combine the worst aspects of rape and 
divorce trials. 

It's hard to imagine exactly how a ju- 
ry could attach a fair dollar value to the 
hurt of the jilted party. In Sharon 
Wildey's case, the problem becomes 
obvious: The jury based its award on 
the testimony of her psychiatrist, Dr. 
Norman Litowitz. He described 
Wildey's psychiatric suffering and told 
the jury that she would need three to 
five years of additional therapy to 
make herself whole. An obvious 
conflict of interest, yet in the jurors' 
minds Springs had to pay—never 
mind that the rancher had known her 
for only a few happy months out of her 
pain-filled life. Never mind that five 
years of therapy could buy Dr. Litowitz 
a new beach house. 

Wildey vs. Springs is due for review in 
a federal court of appeals sometime 
this fall. Fortunately, many state courts 
are unwilling to write seduction and 
breach of promise back into the law. 
Last year, courts in New York and Vir- 
ginia threw out suits on the grounds 
that they were barred by anti-heart- 
balm laws. The Virginia judge wrote, 
“Seduction is archaic and a gender- 
based statute.” A California court dis- 
missed Lee Perry's fraud case against 
Richard Atkinson, who wouldn't im- 
pregnate her. And last February, anoth- 
er California appeals court overruled a 
$242,000 jury award to a man whose 
ex-wife admitted she had never been 
sexually attracted to him. The man, 
Ronald Askew, had sued for fraud. 
"These are matters better left to advice 
columnists than to judges and juries,” 
the judges’ panel wrote in Askew's case. 
They added some advice for courts 
in future cases: "Stay out of the 
bedroom.” 

Frank Zaffere dropped his suit 
against Maria Dillon and is glad he did. 
“There is no question in my mind,” he 
said at the time, “that the lawsuit was 
justified legally and morally. But that 
became unimportant. I would take her 
back in a minute.” Chicago magazine 
reports that Zaflere and Dillon are now 
married and expecting a child. 


N E W 


SL. ES CR 


ОУ мы TE 


what's happening in the sexual and social arenas 


SOUNDS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT 


BOSSIER CITY, LOUISIANA— While shop- 
ping for a bed at a department store, two 
teenagers put one to the ultimate test. This 


led to their arrest for having sex in public. 
Despite their apologies to the store's man- 
agement, each faces up to six months in jail 
and a $500 fine on an obscenity charge. 

DAYTON, OHIO—Two high school stu- 
dents, a boy and a girl, received suspen- 
sions from school because he performed 
cunnilingus on her in a ninth grade study 
hall —uhile classmates looked on. The su- 
pervising teacher, who allegedly sat oblivi- 
ous at her desk listening to a radio during 
the incident, denies it occurred but has 
submitted her resignation. School officials 
have readmitted the pair and they are un- 
dergoing counseling. 


AIDS WATCH 


BALTIMORE—Five county and state 
officials are being sued by a 30-year-old 
man who was arrested and forced to take 
ап HIV test, which came up positive. The 
arrest was made on a judicial warrant un- 
der a state law that makes it a crime to 
spread HIV knowingly. The subject didn’t 
respond to several requests to take the test 
voluntarily after a sex partner had tested 
positive. Nevertheless, several civil rights 
groups and the ACLU argue that in spite 
of his partners infection, authorities did 
not know the man was infected at the time 
he was taken into custody. 


MIAMI—An HIV-positive man who 
raped an 11-year-old boy has been found 
guilty of kidnapping, lewd and lascivious 
assault, sexual battery and attempted first- 
degree murder after the jury decided that 
the AIDS virus was used as a lethal 
weapon. While many states have criminal- 
ized deliberate spreading of the disease, an 
attorney who studies the legal aspects of 
AIDS says that this is the first time a rapist 
with HIV has been prosecuted for attempt- 
ed first-degree murder. 


CHILLY CONCEPTION 


LOS ANGELES—A wealthy Malibu law- 
yer willed 20 percent of his estate (which 
included 15 vials of his frozen sperm) to 
his girlfriend before taking his own life in 
1991, The man’s son and daughter had 
contested giving a portion of the sperm to 
his girlfriend because, she contends, they 
were worried they might have to share the 
estate with future half-siblings. A superior 
court judge has now ruled that the man’s 
estate does include his frozen sperm and so 
awarded three vials of it to the girlfriend, 
as the deceased had authorized. 


STRIP POKER 


NEWNAN, GEORGIA—Afler months of 
investigation, Coweta County sheriff's 
officers finally won enough at local video 
poker machines to charge three businessmen 
with distributing obscene materials. In- 
stead of paying off in money, the machines 
rewarded players by undressing computer- 
ized images of women. The equivalent of a 
jackpot yielded a display of explicit sexual 
‘acts. Said the sheriff, “Women have come 
into my office to say that their husbands 
blow entire paychecks on these games.” 


HAVE COMPUTER, WILL SUE 


NEW YORK CITY—Fed up with a prison- 
er who is whiling away his two life terms 
filing fraudulent product liability suits, a 
federal district judge concluded that fines 
alone would not discourage abuse of the le- 
gal system. So Judge John S. Martin Jr. 
not only ordered the inmate, a convicted 
murderer serving his time in West Vir- 
ginia, to pay $5000 to the court clerk and 
file no more actions without court permis- 
sion, but also took away his word proces- 
sor—and any other equipment he might 
otherwise have used to file lawsuits. 


HEY, SAILOR 


BALTIMORE—Joining the civic fad of 
creating drug-free, gun-free and nuclear- 
free zones, Baltimore is trying to reclaim 
certain residential neighborhoods by de- 
claring them prostitution-free. If the new 
zones are approved by the city council, po- 
lice will be able to arrest sex workers for 
loitering, lewdness and propositioning mo- 
torists at specific street corners. Our ques- 
tion: Whats stopping the police now? 


BEHIND BARS 


MILWAUKEE—The Milwaukee County 
Board has voted twice to ban weight lifting 
at the local correctional institution so that 
“those tax-paid muscles won't be used in 
an adversarial manner against jailers, 
other inmates, law enforcement officers 
and crime victims.” One outspoken propo- 
nent of the new policy explained the moti- 
vation: "I don't think the government 
should be in the business of making crimi- 
nals bigger, stronger and more dangerous, 
and then releasing them upon society.” 
Milwaukee's new downtown jail has 
avoided the issue by not having any 
weights to begin with. 


men 


ESP 
^u 


FAIRFAX, VIRGINIA—A county sheriff 
has banned MTV because of complaints 
from both male and female guards that 
gangsta rap and erotic videos, especially 
those featuring Madonna, bring sex into 
the workplace and make inmates unruly. 


Reporter's Notebook 


BUTT OUT 


the epa ignited hysteria about passive smoke, but the greater 
risk to our health comes from an overaggressive government 


I was stopped at a light on Tony Mon- 
tana Avenue in Santa Monica, sunroof 
and windows wide open, puffing away 
happily on a cigar. Relaxing alone in the 
car, it seemed that I had found one of 
the few places where my family—r any- 
one else—would let me smoke the occa- 
sional stogie. Suddenly, an adolescent 
voice from the car alongside ordered me 
to “Put it out!” 

What? Which is what I asked the kid, 
politely enough under the circum- 
stances. His mother told him to roll up 
the window, hissing I might have a gun. 

Enough already. The antismoker talk 
has gone crazy, fueled by a new judg- 
ment from the Environmental Protec- 
tion Agency that labels passive smoke a 
carcinogen. No matter, as we shall see, 
that the EPA cooked the data and other- 
wise engaged in bogus science to make 
its case against passive smoke. The me- 
dia ran with the story, and smokers went 
from suicide risks to serial murderers 
overnight. 

Nor that I'm against reasonable re- 
strictions on smoking. In fact, I find cig- 
arette fumes noxious compared with the 
sweet if pungent odor of a fine cigar. 

Cigar smokers are not addicted to ci- 
gars in the sense of needing to stand out- 
side an office building puffing madly 
during a break. A good cigar every once 
in a while will do. Most cigar smokers 
prefer being alone with their cigars, 
thereby rarely polluting the air of others. 

Never having been a cigarette smoker, 
I typically request the nonsmoking sec- 
tion of restaurants. 1 understand why 
someone would want to go to a smoke- 
free restaurant, and that should be his 
choice. By the same token, as a matter 
of individual liberty, proprictors ought 
to have the option of accommodating 
smokers. 

Conflicts that arise between smokers 
and nonsmokers should be handled with 
civility, In my experience, smokers are as 
reasonable as other people, and a bit of 
friendly talk is all that’s needed to pre- 
vent a scene. There is no reason for Big 
Brother to get even more involved. 

However, our goyernment has em- 
barked on an ambitious campaign to 
prevent people from smoking. This will 
be accomplished in two ways. The first is 
through even more excessive taxation. 


opinion By ROBERT SCHEER 


These regressive taxes, piled on by both 
federal and state authorities, dispropor- 
tionately hurt people with lower in- 
comes. The current federal tax ona pack 
of cigarettes is 24 cents; under Clinton’s 
proposed health plan, that would be 
boosted to 99 cents. 

“The rationale for raising the tax on to- 
bacco is that medical costs are higher for 
smokers, so they should pay a heavier 
share of national health costs. Then why 
not apply the same principle to those 
who eat red meat, drink whole milk, are 
overweight, drink alcohol or refuse to 
exercise? We target smokers because 
they are presumed to harm not only 
themselves but those around them. They 
are the progenitors of a dreaded demon: 
secondhand smoke. 

The drive against smokers reached 
hysteria last year after the EPA issued a 
publicized report labeling secondhand 
smoke a class A carcinogen. That means 
the smoke exhaled by smokers, and sent 
up from the burning cigarettes them- 
selves, pollutes the air and creates a seri- 
ous health risk for those who breathe it. 

That was all antismoking forces and 
the government needed to launch the 
other part of their campaign: to ban 
smoking in all public places. Finally, the 
smoking butt had been proved to be 
a smoking gun. Passive smoke, the EPA 
said, kills approximately 3000 people a 
year through lung cancer. 

Although the media heralded this re- 
port uncritically, someone should have 
noticed that a mere 3000 people were af- 
fected in a nation of 260 million, 50 mil- 
lion of whom are smokers. On closer 
examination by the Congressional Re- 
search Service of the Library of Congress 
and leading epidemiologists, the EPA 
claim proved to be unsubstantiated. 

‘The EPA conducted no new survey of 
the effects of secondhand smoke but 
rather summarized the results of previ- 
ously published studies on the increased 
risk of lung cancer to nonsmoking 
spouses of smokers. However, those 
studies failed to define the health sof 
passive smoke. 

The Congressional Research Service 
pointed out that of 30 studies, “six found 
a statistically significant (but small) ef- 
fect, 24 found no statistically significant 
effect, and six of those 24 found a pas- 


sive-smoking effect opposite to the ex- 
pected relationship.” 

In other words, there was as much ev- 
idence to show that people married to 
smokers had a lower incidence of lung 
cancer. The evidence disputes any con- 
nection between passive smoke and 
health risk. 

Equally depressing for antismoking 
crusaders is that two more recent studies 
on this subject do not support their 
cause. One of those studies, conducted 
in 1992 for the National Cancer Insti- 
tute, “found no statistically significant in- 
crease in risk associated with exposure to 
environmental tobacco smoke at work or 
during social activities.” 

Instead of using this data, the EPA 
based its report on 11 earlier studies. 
But even after manipulating the stats, 
ten of the 11 studies referred to by the 
EPA still failed to reveal a statistically sig- 
nificant effect of secondhand smoke on 
health. The EPA responded with a tech- 
nique it had never before employed. It 
simply combined the data from the 11 
studies into one report. Even then it 
couldn't demonstrate a connection be- 
tween passive smoke and cancer within 
the 95 percent accuracy required of all 
previous EPA studies. So the agency 
changed the rules. This time, a statistical 
conclusion with only 90 percent predict- 
ed accuracy would be acceptable. 

‘This is a dangerous basis for the mak- 
ing of public policy. Objectivity is subor- 
dinated to policy directives. Zealotry, 
even when the cause is good, can lead 
to costly mistakes and a loss of pub- 
lic confidence. People already feel re- 
strained by an excessively long and ever- 
changing list of things that are bad 
for them. 

A more rational approach would be to 
acknowledge that there are possible, but 
unproven, risks to passive smoke. We 
could then address the potential harm- 
ful consequences in a way that is effective 
without being draconian. But to attack 
50 million Americans who choose to 
smoke represents neither good scence 
nor good public policy. It’s just another 
attempt at control by a government that 
insists it always knows best. 


49 


MORE OF WHAT YOU WANT LESS OF WHAT YOU DON'T 


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мок ES 
DECIAS fan 2557 


юла yell dont. e» rules, 


NeW Decl ды йн аг» 
expenencene HIE IGE 


NeR? 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW: DE ION SANDERS 


a candid conversation with pro sports’ jock-of-all-trades about base- 
ball, football, race, rap, loyalty, betrayal and his magic boxer shorts 


Deion Sanders is in a hurry. Closing the 
gap on an NFL receiver, legging out a triple 
on the baseball diamond, touting a new 
sports drink or racing to the recording studio 
to cut a rap album, 27-year-old Sanders is 
fast becoming the decade's most versatile ath- 
lete. And he is making money faster than his 
agent can invest it. “Making bank,” as he 
gleefully puts it. 

Like any good cornerback or leadoff man, 
“Neon” Deion has perfect timing as well as 
speed. Bo Jackson may have invented mod- 
ern two-sport stardom. But when an injury 
laid Bo low, Sanders stepped up to take over 
the role as a renaissance jock and advertis- 
er's dream, a guy who could make Nike’s slo- 
gan “Just Do It” зеет plausible. After all, it 
was Sanders, not Jackson, who was the first 
to play two pro sports on the same day. It was 
Sanders, not Jackson, who scored a touch- 
down for the Atlania Falcons and hit a 
homer for the Atlanta Braves in one epic 
week. It was Sanders who once left a Falcons 
game in Miami, jumped into a limo, hopped 
on a је and arrived in Pittsburgh for a 
Braves playoff game via helicopter—Deion 
ex machina, descending from the heavens. 

You want timing? His rookie year in base- 
ball, in 1989, had barely ended when he 
Joined the Falcons and promptly returned a 


“Baseball is mental, because the sport sets 
you up for failure. You fail seven out of ten 
times. Let me drop seven out of ten punts, 
and I'd be on my way out. You can't master 
baseball, you can just learn more about it.” 


punt 68 yards for a touchdown. The next 
year he homered in his last game for the New 
York Yankees, who then allowed him to sign 
with the Braves. In 1991 he hit a three-run 
homer the night before rejoining the Falcons. 
Soon renowned as a Pro Bowl cornerback, 
he starred for the Braves in 1992, shipping 
a couple of NFL games to hit .533 in the 
World Series and tie a Series record with five 
stolen bases. As the Braves’ center fielder this 
season—his first year as an everyday base- 
baller—he homered and stole a base on 
opening day. 

And as Bo, Larry Bird, Charles Barkley 
and Michael Jordan begin to fade, or at least 
lose some of their luster, Sanders is entering 
his prime. Last year “Prime Time” (his other 
nickname—you wouldn't expect him to have 
just one, would you?) was the only NFL de- 
fender sent to the Pro Bowl by a unanimous 
vote of his pers. In December he won a 
showdown with the only unanimous All-Pro 
on offense, San Francisco 49ers receiver Jer- 
ry Rice. After an emergency delivery of 
Deion's lucky underwear—green boxer 


shorts festooned with dollar signs—to the 
Falcons’ locker room, he intercepted two 
passes intended for Rice. He was also among 
the league’s best kick returners and soon 
added another distinction that shot him past 


“Гое always been an offensive-type football 
player, even on defense. When I get the ball, 


Bo into Jim Thorpe territory: Sanders played 
offense as well, catehing passes, scoring 
touchdowns and becoming the first effective 
two-way player in three decades of NFL 


football. 


These NFL triumphs followed a baseball 
year in which he went from prospect to semi- 
star, After batting .183 in his first three ma- 
jor-league seasons, he batted .304 in 1992. 
The club rewarded him with a three-year, 
$11 million contract—far more than the 
$750,000 per year that the crosstown Fal- 
cons were paying. In 1993 he hit .276 and 
stole 19 bases as a part-timer. That con- 
vinced the Braves to say goodbye to his friend 
and outfield rival Otis Nixon, making 
Sanders the team's everyday center fielder. 
Sanders announced that the diamond was 
now his best friend. “I've accomplished my 
goals in that other thing," he said. He want- 
ed to be only “a great baseball player.” 

In fact Sanders has switched “my favorite 
sport” so often that it has never been clear 
which game he truly prefers—until this in- 
terview, that is. More on that later. For now, 
bear in mind that Sanders has spent most of 
this year singing baseball's praises. In April, 
after the Falcons’ signing of lineman Chris 
Doleman put the team near its salary limit, 
Sanders said, “I will probably never be a 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JOE SEBO 


“You're white. I know what you think when 
you see me. I go into a restaurant in baggy 


people can see the offense in me—I'm taking jeans, tennis shoes, my hat on backward. 


it 10 the house, thinking about scoring every 
time I touch the ball.” 


They don't recognize me. They treat me like 
dirt. This stuff happens all the time.” 


51 


PLAYBOY 


Falcon again. But that's cool with me.” 

Critics have questioned his ability as much 
as his ardor. He hadn't played a full season 
of baseball since Little League, they said, 
with only slight exaggeration. Indeed, one of 
his few distinctions on the diamond was be- 
ing named to “Baseball America’s” facetious 
Mr. Average Team. Could a man unfamiliar 
with failure succeed in a sport that defeats its 
superstars seven out of ten times? Would he, 
like Michael Jordan, discover that baseball 
can humble even the greatest of jocks? 

Sanders doesn't like the question. In fact, 
he hates criticism of any kind. His egocentric 
behavior and prima donna antics have 
alienated fellow athletes such as Carlton 
Fisk, who castigated Sanders for failing to 
run out a pop fly at Yankee Stadium. 

Born in Fort Myers, Florida in the midst 
of the 1967 baseball season, Deion Luwynn 
Sanders grew up in a world that ground 
hopes to dust. His mother was a cleaning 
woman, his father a junkie. His friends, 
many of them nearly as gifted athletically as 
he was, joined gangs or sold drugs. But 
young Deion was the fastest and strongest of 
them all. He didn’t have to smoke, drink or 
join a gang because he was naturally cool. 
He was already famous in his neighborhood 
at the age of 12, the hid everyone figured 
would make millions as an Olympic hero, a 
big-league ballplayer or an NFL superstar. 

He streaked to multisport fame at North 
Fort Myers High School. His legend grew at 
Florida State, where the Seminoles’ flashy 
two-time All-America athlete was dubbed 
Neon Deion, He won the Jim Thorpe Award 
as the nation’s top defensive back, led the 
NCAA in punt-return yardage, starred in 
the College World Series and qualified for 
the 1988 Olympic trials as an All-America 
Sprinter for the FSU track team. On one 
grand two-sport day Sanders helped the 
Seminoles win a baseball game, hurried to 
the trach to join the track team’s 400-meter 
relay team (running in his baseball pants), 
then returned to the diamond to deliver a 
game-winning hit in the second game of a 
tournament doubleheader, Before long he 
was a pro football star, incredibly wealthy 
compared with his family and friends back 
home. He built a posh house for his mother. 
He entertained old friends from the neigh- 
borhood with lavish dinners and fishing 
trips. Next came intimations of baseball star- 
dom, plus a Nike commercial that sealed his 
status as jockdom’s latest crossover celeb. 

Less publicly he married his longtime 
sweetheart, Carolyn Chambers, and fathered 
two children, Deiondra and Deion Jr. This 
summer he will release his first rap album. 

Contributing Editor Kevin Cook (who last 
interviewed Barry Bonds for PLAYBOY) met 
Sanders in Florida before one of the Atlanta 
Braves’ preseason games. Cook reports: 

“The fans were expecting Sanders to bat 
leadoff against the Mets. They were disap- 
pointed. Moments before the game he jogged 
from the clubhouse to meet me, leading a 
half-dozen autograph hounds. He wore one 
of his well-known Hawaiian shirts, green 


52 satin shorts and enough jewelry to choke a 


precious-metals dealer. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, 
pointing to a black Toyota truck with silver 
letters reading PRIME TIME on its doors. 

“What about the game?" I asked. 

“No problem,’ he said. Ч told them I'm 
taking the day off” 

"We sped to a Red Lobster. He had the Ad- 
miral's Combo, his favorite, and relaxed be- 
hind a pile of fried shrimp. He was open, oc- 
casionally funny and surprisingly candid, 
given his reputation for being impatient with 
the press. He made only three or four calls on 
his cellular phone, a constant companion 
that costs him $1000-plus in monthly phone 
bills. He insisted on paying for lunch. Then 
we were off to a down-home hair salon, Pro- 
gressive Beauty, where he talked about his 
heroes and enemies while his hair was 
permed and braided. 

“Later we went fishing, the hobby he loves 
most. Sanders caught one little bass and let it 
go. He seemed miffed at the fish for being so 
small. By then he was also getting miffed at 
me for asking so many questions. 

“Driving from place to place he played 
cuts from his new record, which will hit the 
stores this summer. Like his conversation, 
Sanders’ lyrics are oflen bitter, biting and cu- 


“If I score a touchdown, 
I can enjoy that all week. 
In baseball, you hit a 
home run and that’s it. 
The next at bat, you're 
starting over.” 


riously enraged for а young man whose life 
so far has been mostly golden. 

“Яз PLAYBOY went to press, Sanders was 
sent to the Cincinnati Reds—a surprise 
trade that was surely motivated in part by his 
growing cancer-in-the-clubhouse rep in At- 
lanta. He now goes to play for Marge Schott, 
another loudmouth, but one known for mak- 
ing racist comments. The Reds and Braves 
may well meet in the playofjs. If so it will be 
billed as Deion’s Revenge, yet another Prime 
Time headline. 

“Reached by phone, he told me, ‘Iwas sur- 
prised to be traded, but now I'm looking for- 
ward to the change. Actually, this is the best 
thing that could have happened. Everything 
had gotten comfortable for me. Now there's 
extra motivation. I'm going to go even hard- 
er to show everyone what I can do." 


PLAYBOY: Which of your nicknames do 
you prefer? 

SANDERS: Prime Time. Neon Deion, 
that’s not me. That was made up by 
Florida State's PR people. Prime 'Time 
was given to me by a dear friend in high 
school, one of my boys, and it's a hell of 
a name. But my friends don't call me 


Prime Time. It's just Prime or Time, 
whatever sounds right at the moment. 
PLAYBOY: Are you in your prime now? 
SANDERS: This is my year. I hope to be an 
All-Star in baseball. I'm working with 
Coca-Cola promoting Power Ade, their 
new sports drink. I might have a new 
fishing commercial, and my record is 
coming out, too. 

PLAYBOY: You're finishing your best year 
in the NFL, in which you're one of the 
biggest stars of the game. But until this 
season you weren't even an everyday 
player in baseball. Is baseball harder? 
SANDERS: Oh, yes. Football is straight-out 
ability, man. Football is physical— 
strength and instinct. Baseball is mental, 
because the sport sets you up for failure. 
You fail seven out of ten times. Let me 
drop seven out of ten punts, and Га be 
оп my way out. Plus, if I score a touch- 
down or intercept å pass, I can enjoy 
that all week. I can sit on that for six 
days. In baseball, you hit a home run 
and thar's it. The next night, the next at 
bat, you're starting over. Baseball is rep- 
etition, endless repetition. You can't 
master baseball, you can just learn more 
about it. 

PLAYBOY: You had a great line last year: 
“Baseball toys with your mind.” 
SANDERS: One minute they can't get you 
out. Next thing you know, you're 0 for 
25. It'll make you crazy if you think 
about it too much, so you have to contain 
yourself. You have to stay flat mentally, 
because the game is always playing with 
you. Thar's why there are so many damn 
alcoholics in baseball. 

PLAYBOY: How do you stop a slump? 
SANDERS: Focus on your weaknesses. I 
used to go up there swinging. They'd get 
me out with fastballs off the plate, junk 
that wasn't strikes. Now that I'm more 
developed as a baseball player, I know 
how to work the count a little bit. I broke 
my 0 for 25 against [the Cincinnati 
Reds'] Jose Rijo, a great pitcher. He kept. 
throwing fastballs outside. Finally I 
slapped one to left field. After the game 
I said, "Thanks for taking care of me, 
man. I was looking for that fastball.” He 
said I had been pulling off the ball. I was 
never going to reach that pitch until I 
started keeping my front shoulder in. It 
was good of him to tell me what I was do- 
ing wrong. 

PLAYBOY: You sound almost humble 
about baseball. Has the game ever em- 
barrassed you? 

SANDERS: Definitely. Striking out three 
times straight, that's the worst. You're 
going to go home and think about that. 
PLAYBOY: You didn't strike out much in 
the 1992 World Series against Toronto. 
Did you go home and think about bat- 
ting .533 on national prime-time TV? 
SANDERS: No, because we lost. 

PLAYBOY: As pennant winners, all the 
Braves received rings from the league. 
Why don't you wear yours? 

SANDERS: I gave it to my stepfather. I 


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PLAYBOY 


didn't want it because I didn't earn it. 
The Braves weren't even playing me be- 
fore the World Series. I don't like sports 
rings. They are a form of bragging. 
PLAYBOY: You're against bragging? 
SANDERS: Doing it that way, yeah. Maybe 
if I had contributed to the team all year, 
helped us get to the Series and we had 
won— 

PLAYBOY: What if that happens to you 
this season? 

SANDERS: I might wear that ring. 
PLAYBOY: You've always gone back and 
forth about which sport you prefer, espe- 
cially at contract time. But the big dia- 
mond-encrusted 21 on your necklace is 
your football number. Should that tell us 
anything? 

SANDERS: Probably. 
PLAYBOY: After an 
All-America football 
career at Florida 
State, you were the 
Falcons' first-round 
pick in 1989. You 
were All-Rookie that 
year, All-Pro two 
times since. Playing 
baseball caused you 
to miss five of the 
Falcons’ 16 games 
last year, but people 
still talked about 
you as the NFLs 
MVP. 

SANDERS: To come 
off the baseball field 
and get seven inter- 
ceptions in 11 
games—its unbe- 
lievable to do that. 
PLAYBOY: 
played offense, too. 


Mus JT 


guy with my speed. So I know he'll back 
off a little. 

PLAYBOY: You're thinking this as you look 
at him? 

SANDERS: As soon as I come out of the 
huddle, as soon as I come off the ball, 
I'm thinking touchdown. 

PLAYBOY: Do you want to play offense 
even more next season? 

SANDERS: Yes. June Jones, our offensive 
coordinator, always wanted me out there 
full-time. If it were up to him I would 
never have left the field. That was fine 
with me. I told him I wanted to earn 
every dime they were paying me, But 
now it looks like I won't be back with the 
Falcons. As for my future in football, it's 


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PLAYBOY: Tell us how to shut down Jer- 
ту Rice. 

SANDERS: I didn't shut him down. Jerry's 
a great man, nobody can stop him. I con- 
tained him. I kept him out of the end 
zone and I got two interceptions. But 
people need to know that it's not just 
Deion Sanders versus Jerry Rice. No de- 
fensive back can stop a receiver if the 
quarterback has enough time to throw. 
If I don't get a good pass rush from my 
teammates, he's going to kill me. That 
game I got a great pass rush, and I was 
getting a good jam on Jerry at the line— 
throwing him off stride at the line of 
scrimmage. 

PLAYBOY: Is that what you would do if 
you had to cover 
Deion Sanders? 
SANDERS: Yes, be- 
cause if the man 
gets rolling he is 
going to roll. Also, 
with someone like 
Jerry you have to 
stay strong, because 
he can run like a 
deer all game long. 
PLAYBOY: It was the 
marquee matchup 
of the year: The 
upstart Falcons, 
who had a winless 
first month before 
you rejoined them, 
å С were suddenly the 
hot Falcons facing 
the favored 49ers. 
All eyes were on 
Sanders and Rice. 
Describe the mo- 
ment when you 


knew you had beat 


or 


You averaged 18 
yards per pass re- 
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touchdown catch 
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him and you were 
going to pick off the 
pass. 

SANDERS: It started 
with the snap. I 
knew from their 


the Super Bowl 
champ Cowboys 
and even threw a 
perfect pass on a 
trick play What's 
the matter, isn't cov- 
ering Jerry Rice and 
Michael Irvin hard enough for you? 
SANDERS: I've always been an offensive- 
type football player, even on defense. 
When I get the ball, people can see the 
offense in me—I'm taking it to the 
house, thinking about scoring every time 
I touch the ball. I chose defense in col- 
lege because the team was stacked at 
wide receiver. When I came to the Fal- 
cons they were deep at receiver, but I 
could play right away at defensive back. 
PLAYBOY: When you run a pass route, do 
you actually know what the cornerback 
is thinking? 

SANDERS: I know what he wants to do to 
me because it's what I would try to do to 


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PLAYBOY: No one else has played both 
ways in the NFL since the Sixties. Could 
you be an All-Pro on both sides of the 
line? Is such a thing possible? 

SANDERS: Why not? If there's anybody 
who believes in himself, it's me. 
PLAYBOY: On defense, you're known as 
one of the game’s hardest hitters. 
SANDERS: But I'm not a hard hitter. Not 
if I can stay away from contact. I’m too 
valuable to my team to go out there and 
butt heads every minute. And anyway, 
they don't put in the paper how hard 
you hit a guy. It’s tackles or assists, not 
“bones crushed,” right? I think of myself 
as a big-play person, not just a hitter. 


alignment they 
would run a quick 
snap. From the way 
Jerrys body was 
aligned, the way he 
set up at the line— 
I'd watched film of him over and over— 
I knew this is the play he runs to this 
particular area. So I was prepared. But 
you can't go for it before it's time. You 
can't move, you can't tip them off that 
you know what's coming. I sat back and 
waited. And then he comes to me, and 
when the quarterback, Steve Young, lets 
the ball go, I know I've got it. 

PLAYBOY: You have said you're an instinc- 
tive football player. Does that mean 
you're not a student of the game? 
SANDERS: I'm a student of the opposi- 
tion. I have game films dating back to 
when I came into the league—it's like 
keeping notebooks on pitchers. Two 
years ago when we played the Cowboys, 


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PLAYBOY 


Mike Irvin had a good game against me. 
Before we played them last ycar I was 
thinking about that all week: I have to 
shut that guy down. I went to my little li- 
brary and pulled up film from 1991, 
when I did well against him, and picked 
up a few moves. Can't tell you what they 
were—I don't want him to read about 
them—but I went out there and did all 
right against Mike last season. 

PLAYBOY: You held Irvin to one five-yard 
catch all game, while catching a 70-yard 
touchdown pass of your own. What gives 
you the biggest charge, shutting down a 
star receiver like Irvin or Rice, or hitting 
a home run? 

SANDERS: I'd rather score a touchdown. 
Guys hit 40 home runs in a year, but no- 
body gets 40 TDs. That's the thing I love 
to do. That's six whole points, man. A 
run is just one point. 

PLAYBOY: It seems you're looking for- 
ward to scoring more touchdowns. 
SANDERS: If I play football again. It's not 
decided yet. I don't have a football con- 
tract. I may not even play in the NFL 
this year. 

PLAYBOY: Could you really give up the 
game? You've admitted that you're bet- 
ter at football and that you have a lot of 
work to do to be a great baseball player. 
Wouldn't it be hard to quit the NFL 
when you're at the top of your game? 
SANDERS: I want to play football, but it's 
not a necessity. I can give it up if I have 
to. Right now it's baseball season, so I’m 
focused on that. I can think about the 
NFL later. 

PLAYBOY: Still, you're coming off your 
best football year. 

SANDERS: It was my most gratifying year, 
not because of what I did on the field but 
because I had dedicated the season to 
my father, Mims Sanders—that's what 
the MS on my wristband stands for. He 
died last year. And that man loved foot- 
ball. Baseball was cool with him, but 
football was it. After he died I would take 
him out there on the field with me. I 
would go up to the line, get ready to cov- 
er somebody and look over my shoulder 
and say, “You all right over there, baby? 
You OK, Pops?" I worked my butt off. I 
dedicated the season to my father and 
had a good year. 

PLAYBOY: Were you close to your dad? 
SANDERS: I grew up with my mother and 
stepfather, but my father was around. 
We had our misunderstandings—he 
didn't do all the right things in life. He 
got caught up in drugs. Then he was 
finally getting his life together. We were 
becoming closer when he got sick and 
died of a brain tumor. He was 50. 
PLAYBOY: Your friend Hammer, who's 
now producing your album, took your 
dad on tour with him, didn’t he? 
SANDERS: My father was part of Ham- 
mer's posse. He didn't have a job title, he 
just took care of odds and ends. But it 
made his last year the best year of his life. 


56 Hammer did this as a favor to me. I went 


to him and said, "I can't get through to 
Pops, but if anybody can, it's you.” Ham- 
mer said, “OK, I'll take him on my world 
tour.” And old Pops Sanders became 
part of the posse, part ofthe family. Fi- 
nally he was going onstage and dancing, 
opening Hammer's shows. 

PLAYBOY: Did your father have a showbiz 
background? 

SANDERS: No, he was just cool. He used 
to work with mentally retarded children 
before he got caught up in junk. I guess 
he might have danced when he got high. 
PLAYBOY: Did you get to say goodbye 
to him? 

SANDERS: No, and that kills me every day. 
I did a song on the record about taking 
things for granted: "I never got the 
chance to say I love you, but we both 
knew. I know you love me, Pops, and 
you know I love you.” 

PLAYBOY: Growing up in the projects 
in Fort Myers, how did you stay out of 
trouble? 

SANDERS: I had sports, and I had my 
mother. She broke her back working ina 
hospital, cleaning up. She taught me 
right from wrong. Also, I could think. I 
was never crazy enough to get in trouble 
like all my friends. My friends are in jail, 
most of them. But I wasn't like them. I'd 
see them selling dope at school and 
think, You're going to get caught. I'd say 
to them, "Man, if I know you're selling, 
don't you think the police know? You're 
one person going against the whole po- 
lice staff. They're all out to catch you, so 
how can you succeed?” And I'd say one 
other thing: "Have you ever seen a drug 
dealer retire?” They couldn't answer 
that one. They knew I was right, but 
they kept at it. Now they're doing time. 
PLAYBOY: Most of your childhood 
friends? 

SANDERS: Maybe 70 or 80 percent of my 
boys are doing time today. Unless 
they're dead. Some of them are dead. 
PLAYBOY: You were never tempted to do 
what they did? 

SANDERS: I was playing sports every 
minute, so I didn't hang out. Without 
sports I probably would have been out 
there with them, and in jail today. But, 
you knovw, I could think for myself. My 
father did drugs. I saw what that stuff 
could do, so why would I want to be 
like him? 

PLAYBOY: What about peer pressure— 
didn't you want to be cool? 

SANDERS: Mark my words, man. Ever 
since I started playing sports, I was the 
best one on the team. I was always the 
man, always cool, even at eight years old. 
I never had to fit in with the crowd. 
PLAYBOY: You've said you were disap- 
pointed with baseball last year. You left 
the team for three weeks while your 
agent negotiated a new contract, which 
was seen as abargaining tactic. But it was 
also during the time your dad died. 
You've said that when you returned to 
the Braves clubhouse, none of your 


teammates said they were sorry to hear 
of his death. 
SANDERS: "How much money did you 
get?” That's what they said. I'm bitter 
because it was the first time I'd lost 
someone close to me, first time I'd ever 
been to a funeral. And all anyone cared 
about was the damn Braves. The team 
said I was holding out for more money, 
but come on, I wasn't playing anyway. 
Why shouldn't I leave? I wasn't playing 
for one simple reason: I wouldn't sign 
their contract. They wanted me to sign 
and I wouldnt sign, so they punished 
me. It was killing me to sit there on the 
bench, knowing I should be playing, 
knowing that they were saying I was 
greedy—even though nobody talks 
about the times I was tired as hell after 
football practice and came over here and 
pinch-ran for the Braves, just to get a 
run home and help them win. I was 
thinking about my father dying, and my 
mind was nowhere near baseball. That's 
why I left. I was starting to go crazy. 
When I came back Otis Nixon was 
playing. The fans would cheer him and 
boo me. I've always been able to handle 
heat, but what hurt me was that Otis was 
fueling up the situation, capitalizing on 
it against me. 
PLAYBOY: But you two were good friends. 
SANDERS: That's what puzzled me. But 
the fans were even worse. Onc day I 
jumped at a ball in the gap and hit my 
shoulder on the wall. I came off the field 
holding my shoulder and they were 
cheering. They were glad I got hurt. 
PLAYBOY: What did that make you think? 
SANDERS: There ain't no love. That's 
what I learned. If I sign an autograph 
for them it's fine, I'm a good guy. But 
deep down they don't really like me. So I 
lost love for them. Now I just go out and 
do my job. 
PLAYBOY: In the end you got what you 
wanted. Otis Nixon is gone, center field 
is yours and you have an $11 million 
contract. 
SANDERS: But I didn't like being pun- 
ished by the team. I didn't like being 
booed by the fans. 
PLAYBOY: What do you want to tell the 
Braves fans? 
SANDERS: One thing: Be true to your 
boo. I'm serious about this. Don't just 
boo me when I strike out. When I turn 
it around and hit a triple off the wall, 
don’t cheer. I want you to boo me. That's 
what I have to say to the fans at Fulton 
County Stadium, because they embit- 
tered me. I won't sign an autograph at 
that stadium for anything in the world. 
PLAYBOY: Does that statement apply to 
your football fans? 
SANDERS: No, no, I'll sign for them. 
They're cool. They know I pour my guts 
out every time I'm on the field. That's 
why I would take a jog around the field 
before the Falcons games, to slap all 
their hands. There’s love there. 
PLAYBOY: Is there more pettiness in 


John’s losing his hair. 
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57 


PLAYBOY 


58 


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What is ROGAINE? 

ROGAINE Topical Solution is a prescription medicine or use on е scalp thats used to eat а pe ol hair loss in men and women known as androgenetic 
alopecia: hat loss ol he scalp verter (ор ог crown of the heat) m men and se hair oss or thinning ol the кох and ор of the scaip in wore. 
ROGAINE is a topical torm of minen. for use on he scalp. 


How effective la ROGAINE? 
In men: Отка зшде with ROGAINE ol over 2.30) men with male pater bléness ivan the top (vertex) leed were conducted by physicians in 
ZI US mitral CEES Based on pate vais of egrovi al e end d 4 ronis, 26% of ne pets using ROGAINE had moderate W dense Паг 
tegroth compared wilh 1% who used a placebo treatment (no acte ingresen, No regrowth was reported by 41% of Ihos usng ROGAINE and 58%, of 
‘hase using å placebo. y the eng ol I year, 6% ol those who catlinued fo use ale thei hår grow as moderate or bee. 

Is women: Ос tes wih AGAIN wee conducted bypyacans LS ad 10 Eupen ea centes vv on GO wonen wih hair 
loss Based on patient evaluations ol regrowth afer 32 weeks (d month). 23% ofthe women using ROGAINE had at least moderate regrowth compared wilh 
9%, of those using а placebo, No regrowth was reported by 43% ol the group using ROGAINE and 60% cl the group using placebo. 


How soon can I results from using ROGAINE? 
Sides show tal Пе response ne b ROGAINE пау le grey оп one person to ste Some people using ROGAINE my se resus ater han 
ез. olhes may respond with a sovet rate of har regrowth. You should na expect ste regrowth ess than å months. 


How long do I need to use ROGAINE? 
ROGAINE isa har oss atmen, nota cure. N you have new ai growth you wil nee continue sig ROGAINE К keep or increase hai regrowth IL you 
Sor eg show new ha gw wih GA айа a rama pen те (at kast A mon your docto may advise you Gs US 


What happens H I stop using ROGAINE? Will keep the new hair? 
Probably na. People hav reported thal new hair growth was shed after they stopped using ROGAINE. 


Кел ин dese MAC trea deyo you cian dry зей ores in e naring and nc elr betine. Wast you rande ater 
ч а rea dey to your clan dry scalp once in e moring and ence at right eee beste. Wash yout hand a 
ti your ел are used зуру ROGAINE ROGANE must ream бе scaip lr a Teast hu Iersre penean ty scalp Do а washout 
hai forat least 4 hours alter applying i. If you wash your hair belore applying ROGAINE. be sure your scalp and har are dry when you apply it. Please refer 
o the Instruchons for Use m the package. 


‘What HI miss a dose or forget to use ROGAINE? 
Do not try to make up lor missed appl cations ol ROGAINE. You shouid restart your twice-taily doses ad return to your usual schedule. 


What are the most common side effecta reported In clinical studies with ROGAINE? 
ching and other skin wrtaions o Ihe reated scalp area were the mast comman side eteds directly liked to ROGANE in clinical studies. About of every 
100 people who used POGAINE (7%) ad these complaints 
Other side effects, including ghi hradedness, dunness, and headaches, were reported boh by people using ROGAINE and by those using the placebo 

“solution wilh no mine. You should ask your doctor to discuss side НЕС; of ROGAINE with you 

Je who are era ensliv or aleıgıc to mind, propylene glycol, or ethanol shoud nol use ROGAINE. 

INE Topical Solution contas alcohol, which could cause burning o rtaion ofthe eyes or ses skin aieas. H ROGAINE accidently ets into 
mest aras, ns te area wi large amounts of cool tap water Contact your doctor e ration does nol go away, 


What are some of the side effects people have reported? 
ROGAINE was used by 3 857 patients (347 females п placebo controled cincal ral. Except or dermatologic events [involving the so), го individual 
reaction or reactions ре by body systems appeared to бе nore common in the minondi-—reted patients than m piacebo-Irealed patients 
Dermatologie: iat or адетде Сас cerralis—7. 36%. Respiratory: bronchitis. upper respeatory nection, Snustis— 16%, Gastrointesti- 
nal: diarrhea, nausea, vriting—4 33%. Neurologie: headache. si, laniness, ight -eadedness—3.42%: Musculoskeletal: fractures, back 
pan, ens, aches ан pns 2S0, Crloracaa; ета, chest pr od pressure ness (eos papas, pulsera: nase 
ecreases—1.63%: Allergle: nonspecific allergic reaclons hives, aller hints, fatal swellng and sensivty—1 27%; Metabolle Nutritional 
era. vs qan- Y Ste Sener: ccs. ear econ vero. 17, Geni Vag pot ents. agus nit, 
vga dager 9%. nay Tract ay Ка lector nl ca, his. DS. Endocrine: mirta charges, bas 
эт. РЕ a Uso. tius 6%, Hamaloge roten vombeopna атна `0 S 
Euse has been monitored lor up to 5 years, and thee has been no change in incidence or severity ol reported adverse reactions. Additional 
adverse events have bem reported since marketing ROGAINE and include eczema, hyperirichosis (excessive har growth) local erythema (redness): 
Dass wu dry hc биг; sul блот; vl distances, Gun ast vial ay (can ола in hat os md 
alopecia (har loss). 


What are the possible side effects that could affect the heart and circulation when using ROGAINE? 
Serious site elec have not been liked lo ROGAINE in cnica studies. However is possible thal hey could occur Å more an е recommesded dose at 
ROGAINE wee applied, because The active ingredient n ROGAINE s the same 25 that in mnoud tablets. These ccs appear lo be dose related; Ihat is, 
трке efec ae seen wih higher doses 

Because very small amounls ol mind reach the blood when the recommended dose d ROGAINE tapped to the scalp. you shoud know about certain 
fcis һа may occur when he tabet form of mnd used eat high od pressure. Minox bes lower blood pressure by relaxing е artenes, 
aneffec caleg vasoóiaton. Vasodtabon eas to ui retention and faster heart rate. The folowing etes have occurred m some patients takng пахі 
{ables for nih Blood pressure: 

‘Increased heart rale: some patients hav reported that their esting heart rate increased by more than 20 beats per minute. 

Satan vates nn wet gan o more han pounds a shori perl me rag oe tace, ans, ans, mac ae 

Problems breathing. UM ing down. a result ol buildup ol body ids or llo around Ве hear 

‘Worsening or new tek of anginapectonis: brel, sudden chest pan 

‚Wen уо appy ROGAINE o norma skin, very Ite mino s absorbe, You probaly wil nol tave Ihe posse effects caused by mini tablets 

you D hover you apene ary d De ose se eet Isie above, slop sng КОБА nf cr you! oda. Ay such 

effc would be mast йоу if ROGAINE was used on damaged r inllamed snor in еи an n этол 

n animal studies, minn, in much larger amounts Man woud be absorbed fom topical use (on йл) m peopie, has caused important hit structure 
dara. Ths hind ol damage has not bee seen in humans piven nou tablets lor hin blood pressure al ellecine doses 


‘What foctors may increase the пак of serlous side effects with ROGAINE? 
People witha known or suspected her condition or a tendency Jr heart alte would beat articular ik increased heart rale or Murten wert Io 
би Коре wi Bess ær pels Sud discuss the poser en her otra choose cus GARE 

ROGAN sou se any ebay cap Lg ROGAINE on er pts y ma nase meta me may erase he 
chances ol hang side etc. You sl not use ОБАМЕ i your cap i maet or sunburmed, ad yo should not use yo at ust оће skin 
Treatment on your сар. 
Con people with high blood pressure use ROGAINE? 
Коя people wi igh Duod pressure, incluging thse tahing High blood pressure medie, can use ROGAINE bu should be monitored cose by ier 
‘doctor Palins taking а bond pressure medicine caled guanethidine should not vse ROGANE 
Should any ona be followed? 
People who use ROGAINE shold se ei боси 1 month atter starting ROGAINE and at east every 6 maths terete. Stop using ROGAINE any ofthe 
folowing occ sal and water retention, problems beating, faster heart ae, ог chest pas 

Do not use ROGAINE i you are usng cher drugs applied t the scalp such as cortiosteroids, retinoids, pratum, or agents that mih increase 
ats roug Pe sin, ROGAN lor se sap cy. Each osten arr 2 mg MOO and ee glo case 
uante 
‘Are there special precautions for women? 
Pregrant women and nursing mothers shoud ni use ROGANE, Aso, is elects on women durng labor and delivery are not known. Etfcacy in 
postmenopausal women has по been sued. tutes show the use ol ROGNINE wil not Ме menstrual cycle lergh amount ol fow or dualion of the 
Menstrual pero. сое using ROGAINE and consul your doctor s soon as possible our menstrual period does not occur at Ine expected me 
Con ROGAINE be used by children? 
No, Ihe aly an etleciveness of ROGAINE has no been tested in people under ape 18. 
Caution: Federal aw prohibits dispensing without prescription. You must see a doctor o receive a prescription. 


mun DERMATOLOGY 
DIVISION 


(©1994 The Upjohn Company, Kalamazoo, MI 49001, USA 
051178600 February 1994 CB-4-5 


baseball than in football? 

SANDERS: There's a lot of pettiness in 
baseball. Like the rookie thing. It's rook- 
ie this, rookie that: “Rookie, you should 
respect all the old guys.” Hey, the hell 
with that. I don’t agree. Rookies can be 
good, too. In the NFL, you try to kill that 
old guy. Football is more about doing 
your own thing—get out there and 
knock the hell out of the old guys. 
PLAYBOY: In your rookie year in baseball 
you failed to run to first on a pop-up 
against the White Sox. Their catcher, 
Carlton Fisk, yelled at you for it. A lot of 
fans, and even other players, liked that. 
They figured you were getting your 
comeuppance. We assume that you 
don't agree. 

SANDERS: He was calling me names! 
“Run, you so-and-so.” He had no right 
to do that. He didn’t know why I wasn't 
running. The bat had flown out of my 
hands and it was going right at these lit- 
tle kids in the first row by the dugout. I 
couldn't move. I was frozen, standing 
there watching my bat spin through the 
air. What was I supposed to do, turn and 
run to first base? 

PLAYBOY: Your next time up you called 
Fisk a racist. He objected to that, too, 
and you two nearly came to blows. When 
you say he called you a “so-and-so,” was 
that a racial slur? 

SANDERS: No. Just “you rookie,” stuff like 
that. But does he do that to a white guy? 
Maybe not. 

PLAYBOY: You said that your father was a 
football man. How does the rest of your 
family feel about football as opposed to 
baseball? 

SANDERS: My mother hates baseball. She 
loves football. She’s knowledgeable, too. 
After a game she'll tell me what J did 
wrong: “You let that man catch the ball 
all over you!” 

PLAYBOY: How about your wife, Carolyn? 
SANDERS: She likes football. 

PLAYBOY: Daughter Deiondra? 

SANDERS: Football. 

PLAYBOY: It's getting close to unanimous. 
Are we right to think that you truly pre- 
fer football? 

SANDERS: That's what I've been telling 
you. 

PLAYBOY: And baseball isn't even close. 
SANDERS: It’s a fact. 

PLAYBOY: Do you worry about an injury 
that might make your final decision for 
you? Have you talked to Bo Jackson—— 
SANDERS: You can’t think about that stuff. 
Just because a guy who got hurt has a 
large name, that has nothing to do with 
me. I mean, I check the injury reports 
every week. Guys get hurt. There are ca- 
reer-ending injuries every week. So I 
pray for that guy. I hope his finances are 
straight, because the team ain't going to 
take care of him for the rest of his life. 
But other than that, I don't really think 
about it. 

PLAYBOY: You have insurance, though, in 
case of a career-ending injury. 


SANDERS: Yes. Quite a bit of it. It's part of 
the job, like having insurance when you 
drive a car. But its not because I'm 
scared of injury. There's nothing I'm 
scared of. 

PLAYBOY: Are you at all superstitious? 
SANDERS: Yes. I wear rubber bands on 
my wrists all the time. Before a football 
game your socks, jock and undershirt 
are rolled up in a rubber band. One time 
at Florida State I took off the rubber 
band and put it on my wrist, and it 
worked. I had a great game. I did it the 
next week and I've done it ever since. I 
also have to read a verse from the Bible 
every morning, or I don't feel right that 
day. And every time I get a base hit or 
make a big play in football, you'll see me 
tap my chest twice and point to the sky. 
I'm pointing to my father. 

PLAYBOY: Then there are your famous 
lucky shorts, the green ones with white 
dollar signs all over them. When you lost 
them before the game last year against 
Rice and the Niners, a messenger 
brought them to the stadium at the last 
minute. Don't you have a backup pair? 
SANDERS: I have one pair. My wife gave 
them to me my rookie year, and I have to 
wear them on football game days. I'd left 
them in Houston. They got mixed up in 
the laundry, but our equipment manag- 
er found them and got them to me just 
in time. So I had my lucky drawers and 
two interceptions, and afterward I told 


the press, "It has to be the drawers.” 

fell us another quirk. 
SANDE! get a kick out of thinking up 
questions that have no answers. Like, 
Why do they call a dick a dick? Why not 
a henry or larry or leroy? And who 
named it? Stuff like that amuses me. 
PLAYBOY: Whatever you call it, athletes 
are known for giving it a workout 
Was that true for you when you were a 
bachelor? 
SANDERS: I've never really been a bache- 
lor. Carolyn has been with me since col- 
lege, so I never had that life. I don't go 
to clubs. Most nights, unless I'm working 
on the record or something else, I'm 
sound asleep at 7:30. 
PLAYBOY: Has AIDS changed the lifestyle 
for other pro jocks? 
SANDERS: Definitely. Guys are using a lot 
more protection. The condom people 
are doing very well on the athletes. 
Which is good—those things can save 
your life. But there are still people living 
dangerously, playing with fire. 
PLAYBOY: Your beliefs and experiences 
seem to have made you a bit of a puritan. 
SANDERS: I have never tasted alcohol. I 
have never smoked a cigarette. I have 
never tried drugs. 
PLAYBOY: Were you tempted by sex? 
SANDERS: [Laughing] That's different. I 
was active when I was a kid. And very 
lucky. There wasn't AIDS then, but there 
was gonorrhea and everything else. At 


least I was using protection. 

PLAYBOY: How old were you? 

SANDERS: Too young. Younger than 12, 
lets say. The girls were three or four 
years older, but not old enough to do 
what we were doing, not old enough for 
sexual intercourse. But I used protec- 
tion and we were lucky. 

PLAYBOY: Even at that younger age you 
were thinking ahead? 

SANDERS: Right. I knew that if I had a kid 
my mama would really have to break her 
back and I would have to go to work, 
too. No more sports. 

PLAYBOY: You and Carolyn had a baby, 
Deiondra, and then Deion Jr. last ycar. Is 
it true you were talking to your mother 
on your cellular phone while Deion Jr. 
was being born, even while you cut the 
umbilical cord? 

SANDERS: I kept her posted: “It’s coming 
out, it's a boy, he's fine and he's healthy.” 
I was helping Carolyn, too, but she had 
an easy time ofit. She was on the phone 
to my mother, too. 

PLAYBOY: Are you easy to live with? 
SANDERS: Carolyn and I don't argue too 
much. But in my household, what I say 
goes. When I get mad I get mad, and 
you better just leave if you don't want to 
get caught in the crossfire. 

PLAYBOY: What kind of dad are you? Do 
you change diapers? 

SANDERS: No, that's Carolyn's field. But I 
play with my kids. With Deiondra—she's 


“T didn't use one because I didnt 
have one with me.” 


Ifyou don't have a parachute, don't jump, genius. 


Helps reduce the risk 


59 


PLAYBOY 


60 


four—it's singing games. We do those 
cute little Barney songs. Deiondra loves 
Barney. 

PLAYBOY; Deion Sanders raps by night, 
sings Barney songs by day. 

SANDERS: Barney's cool, man. Barneyisa 
bad man. Barney is large. 

PLAYBOY: Does Deiondra know what you 
do for a living? 

SANDERS: She knows, and it's important 
to me that she knows. She needs to know 
why we live the way we do, why we have 
a nice house, why we're capable of riding 
in the cars I have. I want her to know 
what kind of sacrifices I make for all that, 
like when Daddy has to go away for days 
at a time. She'll say, "Daddy got to go to 
work.” ГЇЇ say, "Daddy's got to go do 
what?” And Deiondra knows. She says, 
“Daddy got to go make money.” 
PLAYBOY: Do you treat your daughter 
differently from your son? 

SANDERS: You need to be more careful 
with a girl. A girl has more to lose in life. 
For instance, if a man has sex with a 
hundred women, in some places he's a 
hero. If a woman has sex with a lot of 
men, in all places she's a zero. So it is dif- 
ferent. I'm not going to sit with my boy 
someday and say, “OK, you can go have 
sex with her and her." But TIl be a little 
freer with him. When he gets older, 
Deion Jr. can maybe stay out till 8:30, but 
Deiondra will need to be in before dark. 
PLAYBOY: Seriously—before dark? 


SANDERS: No question about it. 

PLAYBOY: Has having a daughter 
changed the way you think about men 
and women? 

SANDERS: Well, I won't say I viewed 
women badly before, but it softens your 
heart to have a little girl. 

PLAYBOY: There's a lot of misogyny in rap 
music, a lot of antifemale talk 

SANDERS: I don't condone that, but some 
people are raised that way. If that’s their 
lifestyle, let it be. 

PLAYBOY: As a famous father, do you wor- 
ry about your family’s safety? 

SANDERS: There are weird people out 
there. There's this one guy who turns up 
wherever I go. Carolyn calls him Fatal, 
as in Fatal Attraction. Every time I pull 
out of the parking lot after a Braves 
game this man is standing there staring 
at me. Black dude, a strange person. 
He's at football games, too—reaching 
out to slap my hand when I come out of 
the tunnel. One time he handed me a 
20-dollar bill. “Get yourself something to 
eat,” he says. Which could be kind of 
funny, except that right after my daugh- 
ter was born, I walked out of the delivery 
room and he was right outside the door. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think he’s a stalker? 
SANDERS: Just a fan, I think. An over- 
board fan. 

PLAYBOY: Have you confronted him? 
SANDERS; No, man. I don't speak to him. 
I don’t want to encourage him. But 


we went to another hospital for Deion 
Jr's birth. 

PLAYBOY: Do you worry about Carolyn 
and the kids when you are on the road? 
SANDERS: Sure I do. But anyone who 
gets into my house at night, any man 
who comes into my bedroom, he's liable 
to be full of holes when he comes out. 
Carolyn is ready. 

PLAYBOY: Do you have guns in your 
bedroom? 

SANDERS: Let's just say that Carolyn 
is ready. 

PLAYBOY: What about you? Is there a gun 
in the truck you're driving today? 
SANDERS: It's possible. 

PLAYBOY: Let's talk about your other 
high-caliber exploits. During the 1991 
pennant race, when you helicoptered 
from football practice to a Braves game, 
what was running through your head? 
SANDERS: I was nervous. It was my first 
time in a helicopter. I told the pilot to fly 
over my house. I wanted to see how the 
house looked, It looked cool, 1 felt better. 
PLAYBOY: In October 1992 you became 
the first player ever to play two profes- 
sional sports in one day, playing for the 
Falcons in Miami one Sunday, then join- 
ing the Braves in the National League 
playoffs that night in Pittsburgh. Falcon 
fans loved you for it, but some baseball 
people thought you were showing off. 
SANDERS: The story should have been 
that I was breaking my neck to help both 


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of my teams. But [then CBS baseball 
broadcaster] Tim McCarver put negativ- 
ity on it—saying I was out for publicity. 
Hey, I don't give a damn about publicity. 
I don't need it. But for three or four 
games in a row, this guy kept talking 
about my big attitude, calling me selfish, 
saying I played two sports in one day be- 
cause of ego. But I know what he was 
about. I know why he tried to make me 
look stupid: He wanted an interview and 
I wouldn't give it to him. 

PLAYBOY: How did you know what Mc- 
Carver was saying on TV? You were in 
the dugout at the time. 

SANDERS: You think we don't have a 
phone in the dugout? You think I don't 
have football friends with TVs? I heard 
from them—they said 
they wanted to jump 
through the screen at 
the guy. 

PLAYBOY: In the locker 
room after the Braves 
won the pennant you 
made more news. You 
dumped a bucket of 
water on McCarver. 
SANDERS: It would 
have been more ac- 
cepted if it had been 
champagne, but I 
don't play that. I don’t 
believe in alcohol. 
Even if we win the 
playoffs, nobody 
throws champagne on 
me. So I threw water. 
PLAYBOY: It wasn't the 
most adult thing to do. 
SANDERS: It wasn't an 
adult thing for him to 
discredit me in front of 
millions. Where I 
come from, you don't 
take any junk. Its 
about honor. Nobod; 
can talk about you like 
that. So I threw water. 


Would it have been ; 
better if I had beat the So What Do You Put It On? 
hell out of him? Tomes a Cure] Soc rade cal HX Ne 


PLAYBOY: On your rap 

record you call him 

"tiny Tim McCarver" and imply that he 
was jealous of you. 

SANDERS: You have to understand. The 
things I do and the way I carry myself 
give some people fits. I see it all the time. 
I mean, you're white—when you're at a 
red light and I pull up in my Benz, 
dressed like 1 am, the first thing you 
think is, He's not doing something right. 
He's probably in drugs. Because I know 
what you think when you see me. You 
don't think, This young black man in a 
Benz might be a lawyer, do you? 
PLAYBOY: You're talking about racism, 
not jealousy. 

SANDERS: I was in a golf cart with my at- 
torney. My attorney is black, too. This 
white guy runs up and says, "Where'd 


you get that golf cart?” just knowing we 
stole it. This stuff happens all the time. 1 
go into a restaurant in baggy jeans, ten- 
nis shoes, my hat on backward. They 
don't recognize me, and they treat me 
like dirt. I'm in a store in Atlanta, and 
the security guard asks if he can check 
my bags. "Hell no, you can't check my 
bags. What gives you the right?" So we 
have a confrontation. Then somebody 
tips him off who I am and this guy feels 
like an idiot. He's so embarrassed he 
can't even speak. He just floats away. 

PLAYBOY: A few years ago in Georgia you 
had trouble with a white policeman. He 
nabbed you for two different violations 
involving the Florida license plates on 
one of your half-dozen cars. Another 


“Catfish” 
-Sinbad 


“Chicken wings” 


-Dan Marino 


“Pasta” 
-Walter Payton 


YEEEEOOOOW. TABASCO. 


time you were charged with disorderly 
conduct at an Atlanta grocery store. 

SANDERS: That's right. The Braves had 
just sent me to the minor leagues, I was 
going to buy thank-you cards for my 
teammates, for their friendship. I'm an 
appreciative person—after my first 
touchdown for the Falcons I bought 
Gucci watches for all the guys on the 
punt-return team. So now here I am in 
Atlanta with my family, going to buy 
thank-you cards for the Braves. Carolyn 
drops me off at Kroger's because its 
raining and this —and he knows 
who I am—starts harassing me about my 
license plates. I say, “Man, I'm tired. I 
have to get some cards for my team- 
mates, then I’m going home,” and I walk 


away. He says I'm going to jail. So I say, 
“Let's go. I'll go with you, you don't have 
to cuff me in front of my family.” I mean, 
Carolyn is watching this. My daughter is 
watching. He really wants to put those 
cuffs on me. So what do I do? I jump in 
his car and lock the doors. 
PLAYBOY: He didn't appreciate that. 
SANDERS: No, but he was harassing me. 
PLAYBOY: What happened next? 
SANDERS: I let the other cop cuff me, this 
guy’s partner. We went down to the po- 
lice station. Eventually they dropped all 
of the charges. 
PLAYBOY: You tackle some of these issues 
in the songs on your rap album. 
SANDERS: [Singing] “1 got an ego, yeah 
man, that’s what they all say. ‘Cause 
Prime he can play two 
sports in one day. But I 
got two jobs, two re- 
sponsibilities. I got two 
paychecks—all this 
versatility.” 
PLAYBOY: In one song, 
All Eyes on Me, you at- 
tack Spike Lee as well 
as Tim McCarver. Lee 
once criticized you on a 
talk show for being 
what he called the 


stereotype of the flashy, 
young black jock. Now 
you're upset with him 


SANDERS: [Singing] 
“Why do they envy the 
infamous Mr. Prime 
Time? Spike Lee 
dissin’ the Prime was 
ridic-u-lous. Why? For 
one, you never met 
me. But now you on 
the TV screen trying to 
check me, trying to 
make me look low. 
Playing it so black, but 
you a black man on 
a white man's show. I 
see your true color, I 
know what you's about, 
playing pro-black. 
Punk, you's a houseboy.” 

PLAYBOY: The lyric was different on the 
tape you played for us today. The last 
line was, “Punk, you's a house nigger.” 
SANDERS: Well, that was too harsh, so 'm 
changing it. 

PLAYBOY: Race figures prominently in 
your songs and your conversation. But 
in baseball, at least, some of your best 
friends are white guys. You go fishing 
with pitcher Kent Mercker. 

SANDERS: That's right. 

PLAYBOY: And you once played fashion 
advisor for pitcher Steve Avery. 
SANDERS: I have hundreds of suits all 
over my house, closets full upstairs and 
downstairs. Everyone knows I dress well. 
I saw Steve in the locker room in these 


on, Lovina 70513. 


61 


PLAYBOY 


big white undershorts and took pity on 
him. Here's a big-time pitcher dressed 
like a high school kid. So he gave me 
$5000 to work with. I went out and 
bought him a wardrobe. 

PLAYBOY: You had to go back to him for 
another thousand. 

SANDERS: He needed shoes. I introduced 
him to crocodile and alligator shoes 
Now he wears them on every road trip. 
PLAYBOY: How does he look? 

SANDERS: He looks cool. He just needed 
direction. 

PLAYBOY: So Avery likes you and trusts 
you. Mercker backed you up in your first 
run-in with the Georgia cops. A little 
while ago you suggested that all white 
people have preconceived notions about 
blacks, but these white friends — 
SANDERS: You don't understand. They're 
teammate friends, not like my boys from 
Fort Myers and Florida State. Maybe 
they're my friends, but they're seasonal 
friends. After the baseball season they 
don't call me and I don't call them. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think Avery and 
Mercker make the same assumptions 
about blacks as that cop? 

SANDERS: Yes. I'm damn realistic, man. I 
hate to say it, but that's how it is. 
PLAYBOY: What are your politics? Do 
you vote? 

SANDERS: No. I think about the struggles 
black people went through to get to vote, 
but I don't get too deep into politics. But 
Clinton is killing me. I pay all these tax- 
es and I still see homeless people on the 
street. I sec big hotels with vacant rooms, 
$200-a-night rooms, and people with 
nowhere to sleep. 

PLAYBOY: You stay in those $200 rooms. 
SANDERS: I'm not staying in the Peek-a- 
Boo Inn, no. 

PLAYBOY: What do you think of Michael 
Jordan's attempt to be a baseball player? 
He says your example helped him be- 
lieve he could be a two-sport player. 
SANDERS: The guy accomplished every- 
thing there was to accomplish in basket- 
ball, and that enabled him to try out for 
the major leagues. I'm happy for anyone 
who gets the chance to fulfill his dreams. 
I think people should leave him alone, 
let him go out and have a good time, in- 
stead of making it harder for him. 
PLAYBOY: But you didn't get a free pass to 
a big-league spring training camp just 
because you were great at another game. 
You had to start in the minors and work 
your way up. For Jordan it's been the 
other way around. 

SANDERS: It’s not about fairness. It's 
about him and his dreams. He isn't hurt- 
ing anybody, so let the man play ball. 
PLAYBOY: He was taking at bats away 
from other guys during spring training. 
A lot of the White Sox were miffed about 
the special treatment he got. 

SANDERS: They were probably mad that 
all the cameras were on him. Players 
who get upset about something like 


62 that—that was their egos talking. I bet 


every one of them asked him for his 
autograph, 

PLAYBOY: The problem some of the play- 
ers had wasn’t so much about Jordan but 
about how the club staged a Jordan cir- 
cus. They thought it insulted the game. 
SANDERS: The heck with those guys. Why 
can't Michael Jordan have a good time? 
If those guys wanted to go to a basketball 
camp, I don't think he'd get pissed off at 
them. Their problem is ego. They want- 
ed the attention he got. 

PLAYBOY: Let's suppose you switched ca- 
rcers again. What would Deion Sanders 
do if he were president? 

SANDERS: [Laughing] Paint the White 
House black! Make it the Black House 
and call all my boys. “Come on over, 
boys, park your cars out front and we'll 
have a good time." We'd take care of the 
issues, too. I wouldn't be spending all 
that money on bombs that will never be 
used. If somebody messed with my 
country I'd call them. "This is President 
Prime on the phone to let you know: If I 
have any more problems with you, I'm 
sending my boys out there at you. There 
ain't going to be no talking about it. No, 
you do what I want or my guys'll be 
down to tighten you up." I'd give my 
boys from the neighborhood positions in 
the Cabinet. My boy who loved guns in 
college, he would be the secretary of de- 
fense. He's good with those things—he'll 
come and personally tighten you up. 
PLAYBOY: Clinton plays the saxophone, 
you could sing. 

SANDERS: Prime's in there rapping. 
Come to the House for a party! 
PLAYBOY: What else would happen in a 
Prime Time administration? 

SANDERS: I'd have no alcohol. Smoking 
and drugs, the same way. 

PLAYBOY: You'd outlaw a lot of things. 
SANDERS: Yes. They shouldn't allow alco- 
hol in locker rooms. Look at the statis- 
tics—it's one of the leading causes of 
death, if not the leading cause. 

PLAYBOY: Don't some people drink and 
smoke and use drugs responsibly? 
SANDERS: There's no choice. That stuff 
helps people die. If it were good for 
you they would serve it to schoolkids, 
wouldn't they? That's what I tell kids 
when I make speeches. I say, "If drugs 
and alcohol were good for you, you'd 
have your peanut-butter-and-jelly sand- 
wich, a 40-ounce to drink and a joint for 
dessert. But they don't because it’s not 
good for you.” It's wrong, and I get tired 
of seeing people drinking and driving, 
drinking and doing drugs, and dying of 
alcohol and drugs. Just about everything 
bad is alcohol- or drug-related. Most 
people who kill people are not in a good 
frame of mind. They've been drinking 
or getting high, then they go shoot 
somebody. 

PLAYBOY: You're pretty sure of your be- 
liefs. Does that come from your child- 
hood experiences, or is it religious? 
SANDERS: It’s both. I’m confident in my 


beliefs. I pray every day. I try to know 
the Lord. 

PLAYBOY: Still, you sce racism all around, 
and poverty and alcohol and drug 
abuse. How does that square with your 
idea of God? 

SANDERS: The Lord doesn't make you do 
drugs. The Lord didn't tell you to have 
sex with this girl you got pregnant. 
You're faced with your own decisions. 
The Lord isn't buying a gun and pulling 
the trigger in a convenience store. 
PLAYBOY: When you pray, how do you 
see God? In the books we all grew up 
with, he was a towering white guy. 
SANDERS: God is black. The Bible de- 
scribes him as a dark-skinned man with 
coarse hair. 

PLAYBOY: How does he look? Does he 
have robes and a long white beard? 
SANDERS: [Laughing] He looks just like 
the white dude, man, only he's black. 
PLAYBOY: Let's get back to earth. You've 
said here for the first time that for all 
your protestations about loving both of 
the games you play— 

SANDERS: I need to keep my bargaining 
power. 

PLAYBOY: Football comes first for you. 
Was there a time when you made that 
decision for good? 

SANDERS: Yes. The Miami game. 
PLAYBOY: That was October 11, 1992. 
The Braves weren't playing you much in 
the playoffs against the Pirates. That 
morning you flew from Pittsburgh to Mi- 
ami to join the Falcons for their game. 
SANDERS: You want to know why? My 
guys had to face Dan Marino that day. I 
had to be there with them. It wasn't right. 
any other way. How could I ever face 
those guys if I hadn't been there when 
they needed me? 

PLAYBOY: You helped keep Marino and 
his receivers out of the end zone, but Mi- 
ami won the game. After which you got 
an IV for dehydration before you flew 
back to Pittsburgh. It wasn't a happy Fal- 
cons locker room. But we hear that some 
of your football teammates came up to 
thank you after the game. 

SANDERS: Jamie Dukes, Mike Kenn and 
Jesse Solomon. They came to me in the 
shower. 

PLAYBOY: A warmer reception than the 
one you got from the Braves after your 
dad died. Once and for all, is that when 
you decided you could live without those 
booing Braves fans and stick to football? 
SANDERS: That's when I knew I would do 
anything for those guys. Because they 
were my boys—we loved each other. 
They came into the shower just to say 
how much they appreciated my coming 
all that way to help them. And I cried. I 
vas just losing it, tears running down my 
face, and that's when I knew which sport 
I loved. Right there in the shower I told 
them, “Hey, I finally found out where 
my heart belongs.” 


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b ^ T ONE END of a block in Brook- 
lyn, where the elevated train 
casts diamond-shaped shadows 
on the intersection of Foster 
Avenue and MacDonald Av- 
enue, an Arabic chant blares 

over a loudspeaker every Friday, sound- 

ing the call to prayer at the Abu Bakr Sid- 
dique mosque. Except for its fortress-like 
entryway, the building doesn't look much 
different from the other brownstones and 
wood-frame houses in the neighborhood. 

But it was here that Sheikh Omar Abdel 

Rahman called for the destruction of "the 

edifices of capitalism." It was here, federal 

rosccutors will argue in a sedition trial in 

September, that the blind Egyptian cleric 

inspired his followers to "levy a war of ur- 

ban terrorism against the U.S.” That war's 
first offensive was the bombing of the 

World Trade Center in February 1993. 

At the other end of the block, just a few 
„hundred yards from the mosque, is a sim- 
ple red-brick house on the corner of 
Ocean Parkway and Foster. You can't tell 
from the outside that it is the local head- 
quarters of Kahane Chai, the militant Jew- 
ish group devoted to the teachings of the 
murdered Rabbi Meir Kahane. The rabbi 
preached a type of unrepentant racism 
that attracted. followers in the Jewish 
neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Among them 
was a young doctor named Baruch Gold- 
stein, the former Brooklyn resident 


article by 
CHARLES M. SENNOTT 


HOLY 
WAR in EE 
Brooklyn 


religious passion, е " 
hatred and violence " 

erupt in the middle 
east's latest occupied 
territory: new york city 


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66 


who last February gunned down 29 
Arabs at a mosque in Hebron, on the 
Israeli-occupied West Bank of the Jor- 
dan River. 

It is just one block in the Borough 
Park section of Brooklyn, but the trip 
from one end to the other is a journey 
beyond the rooftops of brownstones, 
past the church spires and the gray 
smudges of factory smoke to a distant 
desert horizon shimmering with the 
ancient passions, religious hatred and 
violent rhetoric of the Middle East. On 
both ends of Foster Avenue, the mili- 
tants, the peacemakers and the cops 
agree that Brooklyn has emerged as a 
new theater ofthe Middle East conflict. 
The echoes of violence from Hebron 
reverberate all the way to Coney Island 
and Flatbush. 

Just days after the Goldstein shoot- 
ing came a chilling example of this. On 
ıa morning when newspaper headlines 
were filled with news of the “massacre 
in Hebron,” a Brooklyn cab driver who 
had emigrated from Lebanon allegedly 
unleashed a hail of bullets on a van 
filled with rabbinical students traveling 
across the Brooklyn Bridge, killing one 
of the young men and injuring five 
others. 

“There is no difference between 
Goldstein and the shooter on the 
bridge,” says Arthur Hertzberg, a visit- 
ing professor of humanities at New 
York University, and, incidentally, a 
cousin of the 16-year-old rabbinical 
student who was killed in the incident. 
"They both represent groups in 
Brooklyn that feel victimized. They see 
religion as a way to define the enemy— 
and, by extension, as a way to define 
themselves. That definition, plugged 
into the West Bank or Brooklyn or 
Bosnia or Belfast, is what generates ha- 
tred. It is the definition of terrorism.” 


Outside the Abu Bakr Siddique 
mosque, three boys kick a soccer ball 
against the building on a sunny spring 
morning. Orthodox Jews in black felt 
hats and dark suits pass by with their 
wives and children on their way to Sat- 
urday services at a local synagogue. 
Mohamad Abdou, 38, leans against the 
wrought-iron railing in front of the 
mosque and talks about life in Brook- 
lyn. Several times a week his neighbors 
from Kahane Chai, Hebrew for “Ka- 
hane lives,” stop in front of the mosque 
and shout, “Death to Muslims.” 

“Other than that, we don't say much 
toone another,” says Abdou, a heavyset 
man with a thick black beard and large 
hands calloused from his work as an 
electrician. He emigrated from the 
poor town near Alexandria, Egypt that 
was also the home of his friend Mah- 


mud Abouhalima, the alleged master- 
mind of the World Trade Center 
bombing. 

Like his friend, Abdou says he has 
been a target of FBI investigators, who 
have repeatedly broken into his van 
and searched through his tools and 
equipment. Abdou insists he is merely 
an electrician and a devout Muslim, 
nota terrorist. He slides open the door 
of his van and laughs as he displays the 
coils of electrical wiring and the stacks 
of fuses and circuitry that he uses in 
his work. 

“They actually thought this was for 
terrorism,” says Abdou. He adds that 
men who he is sure are FBI agents fol- 
lowed him for weeks and then posed as 
reporters and asked him questions 
about his friendship with Abouhalima. 

“We all live side by side. But most of 
the people are here to get away from 
the violence of the Middle East. There 
is hatred, but it is different,” he says. 

The difference is apparent up and 
down the block. Across from the 
mosque is the Shomer Shabbus Fruit 
and Grocery. It is a kosher food store 
owned by an Orthodox Jew, but it also 
serves Muslims, whose dietary laws, 
called halal, are similar to those prac- 
ticed by Jews. Next door, the widow of 
an Orthodox Jew has rented restau- 
rant space to a Muslim, who plans to 
sell Italian food to the neighborhood. 
Next door to the mosque, a doorframe 
carries a mezuzah, the scriptural scroll 
Jews place in their doorways. 

Ari Bodenstein came to this block 
from Jerusalem ten years ago and is 
raising his family here. An Orthodox 
Jew, he works as a wholesale supplier 
to drugstore chains. He is holding the 
hands of his two daughters. He com- 
plains about the Friday call to prayer at 
the mosque. 

"Its like the West Bank,” he says. 
“The Jews pave the way for the Arabs. 
For 2000 years the Palestinians didn’t 
develop the land. Now they come here 
after we have made the neighborhood 
safe and comfortable.” 

Atthe end of the block, Mike Guzof- 
sky, 29, associate director of Kahane 
Chai, works out of the group’s small 
headquarters at 729 Ocean Parkway. 
He says Kahane Chai is “devoted to 
Jewish identity and Jewish self-de- 
fense.” The Israeli government has its 
own definition. In March it classified 
Kahane Chai as a terrorist organization 
and outlawed it in Israel. 

Rather than discuss his group's infa- 
mous reputation, Guzofsky prefers to 
turn the conversation to Meir Kahane, 
who was gunned down in a midtown 
Manhattan hotel in November 1990 as 
he addressed a group of followers. Gu- 
zofsky believes that the murder was a 
conspiracy among the associates of El 


Sayyid Nosair, an Egyptian convicted 
оп weapons charges associated with the 
shooting. 

Federal law enforcement officials be- 
lieve a terrorist cell, revolving around 
Nosair, Sheikh Abdel Rahman and 
Abouhalima, may have bombed the 
World Trade Center and planned oth- 
er blasts to spring Nosair from prison. 

“There could be a need to put these 
groups down with violence,” says Gu- 
zofsky, who recruits for Kahane Chai's 
paramilitary camps in upstate New 
York. “Violence is not a good thing and 
violence is not a bad thing. It’s some- 
times a necessary thing. So be it.” 


Ron Kuby may be the only person in 
Brooklyn who knows both ends of Fos- 
ter Avenue. He is a former member of 
the Jewish Defense League and is now 
the law partner of William Kunstler, the 
fabled defender of political prisoners 
and pariahs. This September, Kuby 
and Kunstler will represent several of 
the Muslim defendants in the conspira- 
cy trial. 

Kuby, like Baruch Goldstein, came of 
age in the Sixties and joined Kahane’s 
Jewish Defense League. It “was cool to 
be tough and Jewish,” he says. Young 
kids saw the JDL as the Jewish counter- 
part to the Black Panthers. He still has 
his application—now yellowing —to the 
paramilitary camps in the Catskills. 

“Kahane was encouraging his follow- 
ers to emigrate to Israel,” says Kuby. 
“When I got there I found a bunch of 
misfits, malcontents and thugs. I re- 
member watching an Israeli soldier 
shoving an old Arab man down the 
street at gunpoint. It was the same de- 
humanization that I saw in white racists 
at home.” Altered by the experience, 
he quit the JDL and returned home. 

Says Kuby: “The media portray the 
Arabs as the terrori but few realize 
the racism of the militant Jewish fringe. 
There are a lot of Jews who believe 
their own people don't talk like Guzof- 
sky, but they are out there.” 


Atlantic Avenue is the heart of New 
York’s Arab community, and the Masjid 
Al Faroog mosque is its largest house of 
worship. The second-floor sanctuary, 
where services are held, is bathed in a 
soothing light, tinted green from the 
jade-colored walls and emerald carpet- 
ing. Worshipers align themselves along 
stripes in the carpet, face Mecca and 
pray. There is a sweet smell from in- 
cense sticks that rest in cracks in the 
plaster walls. 

Racks on the back wall hold a collec- 
tion of workingmen's footwear: the 

(continued on page 147) 


“I wish you'd stop saying Ti doesn't get 
any better than this!” 


67 


New York's Finest 


ew YORK спу police- 


woman Carol Shaya’s fond- 


est on-the-job memory might 
е a nightmare to 
most people. “We got a call 
about a dispute—a man with 


sound 


a knife was trying to stab his 
girlfriend. My partner and I 
arrived on the scene and saw 
this guy with a machete. I 
said, ‘All right, we have a 
problem here. So I jumped 
out of the car and chased him 
down. When I pulled up this 
guys arrest warrant and 
found out that he was wanted 
by the FBI in Puerto Rico and 
in New York City for a double 
homicide, I felt good. The 
FBI sent me a letter of con- 
gratulations. So did the may- 
or. That's the day I rea 


zed 
how much I love th 


job.” 

It was never Carol's inten- 
tion to join the police force. 
"When I was still in high 
school, for kicks I took the test 
with my then-boyfriend. He 
really wanted to be a police 
officer, but he ended up in an- 
other line of work. I tested 
pretty well and decided to at- 
tend the academy. My stepfa- 
ther has been a Port Authority 
cop for 23 years, so he wasn't 
too upset. At first, though, my 


mom said, ‘No way.’ But she 
and I have always been best 
friends, and eventually she 
came around.” 

Carol admits that her 
PLAYBOY pictorial might cause 
a stir at the station house. 
"I'm proud of what I do and 
of the way I look,” says Carol. 
“People are going to see me 
on the cover of PLAYBOY and 
think twice before stereotyp- 
ing police officers. 


policewoman 
carol shaya in an 
arresting pictorial 


"I like my job becouse it's never routine or boring," says Carol, who has been ossigned to 
work in some of the toughest areas in the Bronx. "You learn everything on the streets. I'm o 
good shooter and I handle my nighistick well. And, | can intimidate someone verbally. I've 
jumped from the roofs of buildings and ме done things that I look back on and сог? believe.” 


s соту as 
this sounds, 
my mom's my hero. 
Whenever I even 
thought about doing 
anything bad when I 
was growing up, she 
found a way to keep 
me on the straight 
апа narrow. And I'm 
really glad she did." 


о what's a typical day in the life of this cop? 

Tough. Carol’s precinct is where the movie Fort 
Apache: The Bronx was filmed. Did the film exaggerate the 
South Bronx’ reputation? Carol rolls her eyes and laughs. “No, 
not at all. It really is like that. The only drawback to 
this job is that so many cases get thrown out of court.” 


om in Israel, Carol moved to New York with her mother and grandmother when she was four. “I went to Catholic 
school. At first, I felt like an outcast. Everyone was either Irish or Italian, and there I was, this little Israeli girl. But the 
boys liked me and my peers accepted me because I played sports —including basketball and softball with them." 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY STEPHEN WAYDA 


OUR REPORTER KNOWS 


WHAT IT'S LIKE 

WHEN A TRUSTED AGENT 

GOES BAD. THAT'S WHY WE 
ASKED HIM TO WRITE 


ABOUT ALDRICH AMES 


76 


article by JEFF STEIN just serore noon 


on most days in 1969, I'd take a lazy drive through the streets 
of Da Nang, a port city in Vietnam. I would stop at some 
point for a walk along the riverfront, or browse for a few 
minutes at a newsstand or stroll through the chaotic market- 
place. Later I would drive to the city soccer field, where I 
looked for a small chalk mark on a faded yellow wall, a sig- 
nal from one of my agents that he had reports to deliver. 

This was my little corner of the Vietnam war, a dark arena 
of spies and jangling nerves where my hands could turn cold 
under the scorching tropical sun. I was only 24, a novice 
operative with Army Intelligence. By day I worked under- 
cover as a Gvilian official, but my real mission was gathering 
intelligence on key members of the Viet Cong's civilian 
underground. 

One hour after spotting the chalk mark, I would go to a 


prearranged place on a beach, where I would wait for a 
young boy peddling ice cream. I'd buy a cone wrapped in 
thin white paper with a coded message written on it. 

One day I discovered that an agent had gone bad, and 
that’s when my nightmare began 

All those memories came flooding back a few months ago 
when the FBI arrested Aldrich “Rick” Hazen Ames, a high- 
ranking CIA officer who the authorities said had spent nine 
years working in secret for Moscow. Ames, in spy parlance, 
was a mole—“every director's nightmare,” as former CIA 
chief Richard Helms put it—who had carried out the worst 
act of betrayal in CIA history. 

So far. 

The arrest of Ames, 53, featured the most celebrated sym- 
bol of Russian treachery since Soviet bugs were discovered 
42 years ago inside the official seal (continued on page 80) 


ILLUSTRATION BY MIKE BENNY 


77 


78 


BUNNY FASHION 


2000 


ihe playboy rabbit becomes a symbol of postfeminist power 


NAPRIL, the Playboy bunny hopped down the runways of 

New York during the fall preview of designer Laura Whit- 

comb's Label line. "Playboy women are empowered in 

their sexuality" Whitcomb told The New York Times. "My 
clothes are based on sexiness.” The International Herald Trib- 
une declared Whitcomb's tribute to the Playboy Rabbit Head 
symbol the hottest ticket in town, and pronounced that her 
styles "set the agenda for postfeminist power dressing." 

"The Playboy design is as American as apple pie, Coca-Co- 
la and McDonald's," says the 24-year-old Whitcomb, taking 
a break at her design studio in lower Manhattan. "To me, 
the Rabbit represents a magazine that worships women in 
one of the ways they should be worshiped.” 

With a creative use of tantalizing accessories—including 
mohair panties, bustiers and Bunny outfits complete with 


ears and tails—the Label line is Whitcomb's eagerly awaited 
encore to her triumph in 1993, when she knocked the fash- 
ion industry on its bustle with her Adidasinspired slacker 
look. “With that line I was making a sarcastic statement by 
merging the world of the graffiti artist with the Upper East 
Side cocktail party crowd," Whitcomb says. "But the Rabbit 
is different. With that I'm trying to get across a message." 
Whitcomb says her message is aimed at women's sexuali- 
: "The Rabbit is more than just a logo,” she insists. "It sig- 
nifies men's adoration of women—a healthy, intelligent pas- 
sion for the female form. I love the idea of putting that kind 
ofadoration into women's hands, so they can use it for them- 
selves. By displaying the Playboy symbol on women, we're 
telling them to stop being obsessed with perfection—because 
they're already perfect." 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY ROB RICH 


PLAYBOY 


How Spies Die (continued from page 77) 


“ 


n 1991 you learn that а mole hunt is underway. 


The CIA has set computer traps to snare Ames.” 


of the U.S. embassy in Moscow: a stur- 
dy blue Washington, D.C. mailbox with 
a thin white chalk mark on the side. 
The scratch, the FBI said, was a “load 
signal” the Russians used to communi- 
cate with their mole. Some things nev- 
er change. 

The mailbox became a symbol of the 
FBI case against Ames and his Colom- 
bian wife, Maria del Rosario Ames, who 
was heard in government wiretaps 
nagging Ames about his absentminded 
handling of ill-gotten Russian cash. 
Both pleaded guilty in a deal that will 
put him in jail for the rest of his life and 
lock up Rosario for at least several 
years. Meanwhile, their five-year-old 
son, Paul, is in Colombia in the care of 
his grandmother. Rosario’s sentence 
will probably depend on how coopera- 
tive Ames is with government inter- 
rogators. Without a trial the public will 
probably remain ignorant of all the de- 
tails of the case, forever. 

A fastidious man with a stylish mus- 
tache, Ames had been on Moscow's 
payroll since at least May 1985, the 
government charged. And what a pay- 
roll it was. According to bank records 
seized by the FBI, Ames earned at least 
$2.7 million in those nine years, and he 
spent the money conspicuously. He 
and his wife paid $540,000 cash for a 
house in the Washington, D.C. sub- 
urbs, redecorated it twice for thou- 
sands more, ran up credit card bills of 
nearly a half million dollars, bought a 
$40,000 Jaguar and took frequent va- 
cations. On shopping trips to New 
York City, they often dined at La 
Cóte Basque. 

If neighbors wondered how his 
$68,800 government salary could sup- 
port such a lifestyle, Ames apparently 
let them believe that Maria had re- 
ceived an inheritance. Eventually, a few 
alert security types asked Ames about 
his newfound wealth, and he cited his 
wife’s nonexistent money. Along the 
way he managed to get by two routine 
lie-detector exams, for which the CLA 
hasa touching regard. 

Even when a local bank reported 
Ames’ large deposits and frequent for- 
eign-wire deposits to the Treasury De- 
partment, as required by law, no 
alarms went off at the CIA. 

The agency's counterintelligence 
staff, hundreds of men and women 
charged with protecting the agency's 
ranks against enemy penetration, ap- 
parently missed all this. In fact, Ames 


was promoted to a senior counterintel- 
ligence job in the Soviet branch, which 
recruits and manages every spy the 
CIA has working against Moscow. 

"This was very odd. Could the CIA be 
that dumb? Yes! the media chorus 
replied. One cartoon depicted "Agent 
Ameski" sitting at his CIA desk in a 
trench coat, fedora and dark glasses. 
Critics pointed out that this was the 
same CIA that missed the collapse of 
the Soviet Union and couldn't find 
Scuds in an Iraqi desert. 

But, as easy as it was to mock the 
CIA, some law enforcement and coun- 
terintelligence personnel suspected, as 
I did, that the story was not that sim- 
ple. They sensed that the truth might 
resemble a complicated mechanism, 
with wheels spinning inside wheels. 

Listening to the wheels spin is, of. 
course, a safecracker's art and a spe- 
cialty of people in the shadowy world 
ofespionage. I spoke with several such 
veterans after Ames’ arrest and they 
had their ears to the safe, trying to pick 
up the faint but telltale sounds of the 
mystery's pieces falling into place. 
Some seasoned CIA operatives saw 
Ames as a pawn in Moscow’s deadly 
game. Their theory went like this: 

Pretend you are the chief of the 
KGB, now the Russian SVRR. You 
have two moles in the CIA. One of 
them is Aldrich Ames; the other is even 
higher in the ranks. In 1991, perhaps 
earlier, you learn that a mole hunt is 
underway and that the CIA has set 
computer traps to snare Ames. 

You warn him to be careful, but his 
thirst for money is unquenchable. With 
swelling arrogance, he virtually dares 
the CIA to catch him. 

He has always been somewhat reck- 
less, but, for that matter, so are some of 
your own operatives. (In 1989 some- 
one sent Ames photos of a rustic spot 
the KGB had picked out for his retire- 
ment dacha.) In the midst of a CIA in- 
vestigation, such sloppy security prac- 
tices are even more risky. 

‘Ames is valuable, but you realize he 
is also expendable. Indeed, the more 
the spotlight falls on Ames’ scandalous 
behavior, the safer it is for your other 
high-ranking moles. So you encourage 
Ames to get more documents. You con- 
tinue to set up dead drops in Washing- 
ton, marking mailboxes with load sig- 
nals. You give him even more money, 
which can be traced easily, Your agents 
meet with him in Caracas and Bogota. 


In this scenario, the Russians delib- 
erately acted in startling violation of 
their own elementary security rules. 

Enter Vitaly Yurchenko, a high- 
ranking KGB officer who defected to 
the 0.5. in 1985, and who is another 
wheel in the complicated mechanism. 
Yurchenko had been Moscow’s man in 
charge of North American spying oper- 
ations. He told the CIA that there was a 
traitor in its ranks, code-named 
Robert, who was about to be sent to 
Moscow to take over several agents. 
That led the CIA to suspect a former 
trainee, Edward Lee Howard, who had 
been fired after flunking a polygraph 
exam on the eve of a posting to Moscow. 

Howard fled in September 1985 be- 
fore the FBI was able to arrest him, 
and he surfaced in Moscow. Around 
that time, CIA operations in the Sovi- 
et Union began to dry up. A number 
of its spies vanished and, accord- 
ing to later reports, were shot. The 
agency chalked their disappearances 
up to Howard's betrayal. 

Then, to everyone's surprise, Yur- 
chenko returned to Moscow. One 
evening, three months after arriving in 
Washington, the mysterious Russian 
got up from his table at a Georgetown 
restaurant and walked out, telling his 
CIA escort that he'd be back. The next 
day he turned up at the Soviet embassy 
in downtown Washington, where he 
declared he had been kidnapped and 
drugged by the CIA and brought to the 
U.S. against his will. 

The CIA maintained that Yurchenko 
was a bona fide defector. After all, 
Yurchenko gave up Howard, as well as 
clues to a spy inside the National Secu- 
rity Agency named Ronald Pelton. The 
Russian simply decided to go home, 
the CIA insisted. Later, word leaked 
from CIA sources that Yurchenko had 
likely been executed. 

Fast-forward nine years. It now turns 
out that one of Yurchenko's CIA de- 
briefers was none other than Rick 
Ames. Did Yurchenko know that Ames 
was working for Moscow? It's possible 
that Ames was so important that even 
Yurchenko did not know about him. 
We may never know what each of 
them knew during those face-to-face 
encounters. 

We do know, however, that Ames 
continued spying for nearly another 
decade and that Yurchenko was not ex- 
ecuted as the CIA had suggested in 
1985. A daughter of a former Soviet 
diplomat told one of my CIA contacts 
that she saw Yurchenko decked out in 
the uniform of a Soviet admiral while 
attending a private party in Moscow 
shortly before Ames was arrested. 

Mark Wyatt, a CIA officer who was 
called out of retirement to review the 
Yurchenko “defection,” now believes 


“I told you they would make an exception.” 


PLAYBOY 


82 


that the Russian tricked the CIA. Yur- 
chenko, Wyatt says, "played the game 
the way he was supposed to. He did his 
job and did it well. He came over on a 
mission. He leaked Howard and Pelton 
to us to protect a supermole, Ames.” 

Wyatt is also suspicious of the way 
the Russians handled Ames. "In my ex- 
perience, the Soviets never meet with 
agents in the country where the agents 
are assigned,” he says. He is "astound- 
ed” that the KGB allowed Ames to con- 
tinue his wild spending, especially after 
it sent him a nine-page letter of warn- 
ing in 1989. It was almost as if it want- 
ed Ames to be caught. 

So does this suggest that the Russians 
gave up Ames to protect another mole? 

“Exactly,” says Wyatt. 


The lessons began right away. 

“You are going to learn espionage,” 
the instructor said. “You are going to 
learn how to lie, steal and cheat in the 
service of Uncle Sam.” 

It was the summer of 1967. Thirty of 
us were crammed into a hot classroom 
at the U.S. Army Intelligence School at 
Fort Holabird, Maryland, in a gritty in- 
dustrial section of Baltimore. We were 
learning how to be spies. A red sign on 
the wall warned that the lecture was 
classified SECRET-NOFORN. 

The instructor tapped the sign. Any- 
thing that got out of the classroom 
could cause grave damage to national 
security, he explained, especially if it 
were disclosed to an unauthorized for- 
eigner, and that included our allies. In 
fact, he went on, in the espionage busi- 
ness we have no allies. Regarding our 
British, French, German and South 
Vietnamese friends—we spied on them 
and they spied on us. And we were 
there to learn to do just that. 

The essence of espionage, we were 
quickly instructed, was persuading 
people to commit treason. Anybody 
who wanted to resign from the class 
could leave right then, no questions 
asked. All but one of us stayed. The in- 
culcation began. 

To accomplish a mission, instructors 
said, obstacles were to be surmounted 
by any means necessary. The tricks of 
the business were called tradecraft. By 
the end of the day we understood that 
our jobs might require us to open 
mail, tap telephones, bribe officials and 
burglarize embassies. We would work 
under false names with forged docu- 
ments, usually under Defense Depart- 
ment or other official cover. We might 
be placed with commercial firms, or 
we'd set up our own phony companies. 

We had to live a lie convincingly 
enough to deflect cocktail chatter or a 
sudden police inquiry. What we were 


doing must be kept from strangers, 
friends, colleagues and families. 

All this led to our adopting a clan- 
destine mentality. For most of us it was 
a whole new way of looking at the 
world, a revelation that we were no 
longer bound by the legal, ethical and 
moral standards of society. Those had 
no relevance to covert operations, 
which were undertaken in the name of 
national security, the highest standard 
of all. The only factor to be considered 
was pragmatic: getting the mission 
done in complete secrecy. One class ex- 
ercise required us to elicit an embar- 
rassing personal detail from a fellow 
student, an introduction to techniques 
of exploiting weaknesses among trust- 
ing targets. 

Not that we didn’t have weaknesses 
of our own. Some intelligence opera- 
tives in Vietnam more than doubled 
their paychecks on the black market or 
dipped into drawers of operational 
cash. Others sampled the whores of Da 
Nang or Saigon, all in the line of duty. 
Heavy drinking was de rigueur in the 
old days, divorce a rite of passage. 

In truth, a small percentage of oper- 
atives fell prey to such temptations. But 
in the ambience of Cold War opera- 
tions, with the CIA careening from one 
coup to the next, its magicians dream- 
ing up new poisons and dart guns, 
there was a macho, anything-goes atti- 
tude. The tough guys went up the lad- 
der; the rest were pushed aside. For 
the most part, the operations person- 
nel ran the CIA, and the analysts sat on 


the sidelines. 
P 


Some operations people regarded 
Ames as a wimp. "I remember him 
standing outside my office for some 
reason," said Dean Almy, a 33-year CIA 
operations officer who served in In- 
donesia, Vietnam, the Philippines and 
Jamaica. "He was a Sixties kind of guy 
with longish hair.” In 1980 Almy was 
the CIA's New York station chief and 
Ames" boss. Their main target was the 
Soviet mission to the United Nations. 

“He was bright and likable, but he 
never accomplished anything," Almy 
recalled. "Those Soviet division guys 
never did. The only guys who recruit- 
ed any Sovs were the knuckle-draggers 
like me who came from Third World 
operations. The Sov division was al- 
ways analyzing things to death." 

Ames was outgoing, the son of a one- 
time history professor who had joined 
the CIA in the early Fifties. But Carle- 
ton Ames never became more than a 
mid-level analyst. He was an alcoholic 
who disappeared for weeks on end. In 
his stead, the family was held together 
by his wife, Rachel, whom friends re- 
member as a source of compassion and 


integrity. She taught English at Mc- 
Lean High School in suburban Vir- 
ginia, just down the road from CIA 
headquarters. 

Ames started putting in hours at the 
agency while still at McLean High and 
after graduation. He officially joined 
the CIA on June 17, 1962—three 
weeks after his 21st birthday—and 
worked at headquarters while attend- 
ing George Washington University 
part-time. After getting his degree in 
August 1967, he was selected for the 
agency's operations directorate. In 
1969 he was dispatched to Turkey, an 
important keyhole into the Soviet 
Union. Three years later, having failed, 
according to CIA sources, to recruit a 
single agent, he returned to Washing- 
ton. He stayed in D.C. until 1976, and 
then it was on to New York. 

During the Sixties and Seventies, the 
CIA was jolted by a series of exposés 
that cast å shadow on its image as a sen- 
tinel of democracy. There was Viet- 
nam, then Watergate, then revelations 
that it had spied on American citizens 
and supported the destabilization of 
the democratically elected Chilean gov- 
ernment. A Senate committee also re- 
ported that the CIA had hired Mafia 
figures to assassinate Fidel Castro. A 
stream of books and articles detailed 
the agency's manipulations of student 
groups and unions and its testing of 
LSD on unwitting Americans. 

Did disillusionment and resentment 
within the CIA ranks combine to create 
moles during that period? At least one 
man claimed he was spurred into espi- 
onage after learning of a covert CIA 
operation. Christopher Boyce worked 
for TRW Systems, an agency contrac- 
tor in California that handled satellite 
surveillance communications. One day 
in 1975, Boyce said, he read messages 
about a CIA operation to influence 
Australia’s elections. He became so dis- 
gusted, he later testified in court, that 
he decided to sell code data to the Rus- 
sians. In 1977 the FBI arrested Boyce, 
23, and his accomplice, Andrew 
Daulton Lee, 25. They were sentenced 
to lengthy terms in prison. 

At the time, Ames was assigned to 
help select Soviet officials for possible 
recruitment. His first marriage, to a 
woman who also worked for the CIA, 
was not going well. They moved to 
New York together, but his career con- 
tinued to be undistinguished, and in 
1981, childless, she decided not to fol- 
low him to his next assignment in 
Mexico. 
The CIA station in Mexico City occu- 
pies several floors in the U.S. embassy, 
a fortress-like building off the Paseo de 

(continued on page 155) 


a М 


A GELEBRATION OF THE ORIGINAL BLONDE BOMBSHELL 


Long before Madonna 
wanted to be Marilyn 
Monroe, Marilyn wanted 
to be Harlow—Jean Har- 
low, the one who intro- 
duced a new kind of wom- 
onhood to Hollywood. 
On-screen and off, her 
specialty was a blend of 
shock and desire: her 
penchant for never wear- 
ing panties, her rumored 
below-the-waist dye job, 
her husband’s mysterious 
suicide and her deatn at 
26. She made “sex funny 
and comedy sexy,” a film 
historian once said. Pre- 


cisely. Better than anyone, 


Jean Harlow knew what 
gentlemen prefer. Hers 


was the genuine vogue. 


86 


JACK 


KEVORKIAN'S 


FIGHT FOR 


DEATH WITH 


DIGNITY IS 


HEAVY ON 


THE DEATH, 


LIGHT ON 


THE DIGNITY 


PLAYBOY P 


GETTING TO KNOW 


JEATH 


THE CAMERA is fascinated with the stump. It zooms in and out slowly, hovers 
around other parts of the body, then returns. The white cotton pants with little 
red flowers are crudely cut away so that we can see it: the stump, with a red spot 
on its tip. Blood? A scab? 

Offscreen, a detached, almost kindly, voice speaks. “We're going to have the 
patient tell us exactly what her situation is. Can you go ahead, please?” 

A small, gravelly voice responds. “Well, I've had rheumatoid arthritis for 
about 26 years now, and it's gotten progressively worse. The pain is not being 
controlled. Four years ago I lost my left leg, and two weeks ago I lost my right 
leg. And I lost an eye. I'm full of despair and Га really like an out.” 
ou're contemplating taking your own life.” 

“I think that would be the best thing for me.” 

With that declaration, Dr. Jack Kevorkian is back in business. He'll offer to 
help the woman kill herself, and that will be enough to get on the evening news. 

It’s a Monday in March 1994, and more than a dozen reporters are crammed 
into the office of Dr. Kevorkian's lawyer, Geoffrey Fieger. After they watch the 
video, Fieger makes a statement. “She wants stronger medication to make the 
rest of her life more comfortable,” he says. “If no medical doctor comes forward, 
Dr. Kevorkian will feel unbridled by his promise not to assist in any suicides.” 

The offer comes complete with a deadline: April 19, the day Kevorkian is 
scheduled to face trial—his first jury trial—for the assisted death of Thomas 
Hyde. It also comes about three months before another significant date in 
Kevorkian's crusade. By July 11, he and his followers must gather at least 
256,000 signatures to put a constitutional amendment on the Michigan ballot 
this fall affirming the right to seek physician aid in dying. 

This news conference, complete with visual aids, is what Kevorkian and 
Fieger do best: manipulate events and people in order to advance their 


BY MAR K JANNOT 


ILLUSTRATION BY OAVIO LEVINE 


PLAYBOY 


88 


agenda. But in this case it seems to 
backfire. A story in the next day's De- 
troit Free Press suggests that Fieger and 
Kevorkian rebuffed the efforts of a 
Houston pain specialist to treat Kevor- 
kian's client. A free Press op-ed piece 
hammers home the point: “Why 
couldn't Kevorkian just fix the poor 
woman up with the right doctor? Can’t 
Kevorkian and company do anything 
without a camera rolling?” 

These are not exactly raves. But 
Fieger accomplished his goal: He kept 
Kevorkian's name in the news and kept 
the agenda afloat. 

What is the agenda? The casual ob- 
server would guess that Kevorkian's 
crusade has one overriding purpose: 
the reasonable conviction that peo- 
ple—particularly those who are chron- 
ically or terminally ill—should have the 
right to determine the circumstances of 
their own deaths, to choose death with 
dignity. But in Kevorkian's case, there's 
a bit more to it than that. 


The moment Kevorkian, Fieger and 
a small entourage enter the lobby of 
the Second City comedy club in De- 
troit, the crowd parts, the television 
floodlights ignite and the reporters 
shout, “Jack! Jack, over here!” 

But Fieger talks first. Tonight is the 
premiere of a new Second City revue, 
Kevorkian Unplugged, and two local DJs 
have invited Fieger and his client to 
help introduce the show. Trouble is, 
the show's producer was never consult- 
ed. Now, apparently fearing that Ke- 
vorkian would take over the evening’s 
performance, she barred him and his 
lawyer from the stage. Fieger steps in- 
to the lights and spews his modulat- 
ed anger. 

“It’s an outrage,” he says in his nasal 
voice. “And I'm going to do something 
about it. I gave you permission to use 
Dr. Kevorkian's name so you could 
make money, and you do this to us? 
Uh-uh. With a show called Kevorkian 
Unplugged, they think his presence 
here is too political? Incredible! Isn't 
that true, Jack?” 

The focus shifts, and Jack Kevor- 
kian, thin and tiny next to Fieger's ro- 
bust physique, is blindsided by the at- 
tention. “What do you think about all 
this?” one reporter asks. 

Kevorkian, his deep voice made 
small, replies, “I have very little to do 
with it.” 

Kevorkian founders on a few more 
questions before Fieger snatches back 
the spotlight. “It will be over my dead 
body that they use his name!” he cries. 

Suddenly, Kevorkian's eyes light and 
his lips curl into that famous open- 


mouthed death's-head grin. "I wish he 
hadn't said over his dead body." 

Fieger had earlier suggested I drop 
in on this event, that I might get a 
chance to collar the doctor for a few 
minutes. Kevorkian had declined re- 
quests for anything longer. 

While Fieger milks his rage, Kevor- 
kian sets about gathering signatures 
for his ballot initiative. He is an animat- 
ed man, all jerky movements and man- 
ic grins, and he jumps around the lob- 
by, thrusting his clipboard at people. 
Mostly, though, they come to him— 
asking for autographs, declaring him a 
hero. And everybody calls him Jack. 

At one point, Fieger asks the bar- 
tender for information about the pro- 
ducer who spurned him. “She'll lose 
her job over it!” he fumes. 

Kevorkian pipes up. “Who owns Sec- 
ond City?” he says. “What religion are 
they? If they're Catholic, that would 
explain it. The archbishop would tell 
them to have nothing to do with me.” 

This is a familiar Kevorkian-Fieger 
gambit—characterizing anyone who 
crosses them as a religious fanatic. “Re- 
ligion makes them crazy,” Kevorkian 
says. I seize the opening and ask 
Kevorkian if he was ever religious. 

“Not really,” he says. “I went to Sun- 
day school until I got tired of the 
myths. Walk on water! You can't fool 
akid.” 

“Did you expect this kind of opposi- 
tion when you started?” 

“I didn't expect anything,” he says. 
“I was always doing controversial 
things in ıhe past, though. The cadav- 
er-blood work we were doing, new 
kinds of transplants. Now they're 
thinking of computerizing the body's 
anatomy. I first proposed that 15 years 
ago—gridding an idealized human 
body.” He says that he published his 
idea in a journal in Europe, where he 
has published most of his writings. 

I ask why he publishes in Europe. 

“Because Europeans are a lot more 
sensible,” Kevorkian replies. “They 
have had a harder life. Americans are 
spoiled. Americans are goofy, and 
they'rea little dumb." 


To understand Jack Kevorkian, it 
helps to start with the Armenian ho- 
locaust, the mass killing of perhaps 
1.5 million Armenians by Turks during 
World War Onc. His father was a sur- 
vivor. “It was probably a pivotal event 
in shaping the emotional environment 
in which Jack was raised, and his out- 
look on life,” says Dr. Harold Klawans, 
a prominent Chicago neurologist and 
writer who was once commissioned by 
Fieger to write a book on Kevorkian. 


(The book never found a publisher.) 
“Jack is the child of a holocaust sur- 
vivor, but it was the wrong holocaust." 

What Dr. Klawans means is that no 
special effort was ever made to under- 
stand the problems peculiar to Armen- 
ian holocaust survivors. Few people 
even remember the killings. Resent- 
ment seems to fester in Kevorkian, 
provoking some rather undiplomatic 
comments, such as the one he made in 
a 1991 magazine profile: “I wish my 
forefathers had gone through what the 
Jews did," he said. "The Jews were 
gassed. Armenians were killed in ev- 
ery conceivable way. Pregnant women 
were split open with bayonets and 
their babies were taken out. They 
were drowned, burned, heads were 
squeezed in vises. They were chopped 
in half. So, the Holocaust victims don't 
interest me. They've had a lot of pub- 
licity, but they didn't suffer as much." 

"His normal stance is aggressive bad- 
gering," Klawans says. "That's his way 
of life. He is preoccupied with death, 
and it all comes from the Armenian 
holocaust." 

The preoccupation with death mani- 
fested itself when Kevorkian was a resi- 
dent at the Detroit Receiving Hospital 
in the mid-Fifties. It was there that 
Kevorkian instituted what he called his 
“death rounds.” He would stalk the 
halls of the hospital at night, enter 
the rooms of those patients who were 
close to death and lift their eyelids to 
see how their eyes changed when they 
died. He hoped his data would help 
physicians to determine the exact mo- 
ment a patient died. But nothing ever 
came of his observations. 

While a resident at the University of 
Michigan Medical Center in 1958, 
Kevorkian became fascinated with an 
alternative to execution: Death row 
prisoners could be anesthetized and of- 
fer their bodies for scientific experi- 
mentation or organ harvesting. "It 
would be a unique privilege to be able 
to experiment on a doomed human 
being,” he wrote. To that end, he 
dropped in on death rows around the 
country, soliciting the opinions of the 
potential guinea pigs (many were sup- 
portive). He corresponded with pris- 
oners, wardens and state legislators, 
with only one concrete result: He was 
asked either to give up his death row 
solicitations or to leave his residency in 
Ann Arbor. He resigned. 

His active mind continued to gener- 
ate fresh ideas at his new post as a 
pathology resident at Pontiac General 
Hospital in Michigan, where he hit on 
another radical thought: Why not 
pump blood directly from a cadaver 

(continued on page 142) 


“Now, this here ambush—just exactly where did it happen?” 


89 


she may be watching oprah, phil, 


montel or sally jessy, but what she's thinking about is you 


as 


TV TALK SHOWS 


IF YOUR GIRLFRIEND says “We have to talk," and : crous. The point is, every topic is guaranteed to 


you know she just watched Oprah, proceed with 
caution. Sure, Oprah sometimes does a light 
show, but she also practically invented the word 
empowerment. Chances are you're about to get 
dressed down as a bad-smelling, bed-hogging, 
money-wasting, two-timing bozo who doesn't 
deserve to be trusted. 

Any woman who watches talk shows, whether 
it's Oprah or Ricki Lake or Montel, has become a 
walking polygraph machine. She also brings 
back higher interpretative skills from her visits 
to the parallel universe of Sally Jessy, Maury and 
Geraldo. She knows the language of the natives: 
the male strippers, the compulsive liars, the sex- 
ually miserable and the surplus of fat people. 
She has also adopted the new, expanded bound- 
aries of decency and privacy—i.e, there are 
none. And she has picked up some new skills. 
She can crochet a throw rug of meaning out of 
“slut” and “betrayed” and “outraged”—words 
uttered with seizure-inducing regularity in this 
hyperworld. No matter what excuse you might 
have for getting busted in her sister's bed, she's 
heard it before. 

If you haven't figured it out by now, buddy, 
listen up. Talk show fans feed on issues and are 
not likely to be swayed by the fact that what's on 
the table is old hat, hysterical or just plain ludi. 


spawn opinions and spread the blame. 

A few years ago a woman looking to refine her 
opinionated self could find four, maybe five, 
hours of talk a day. Now there are more than 
ten hours of babble in most cities. If your Says 
He Doesn't Understand Her isn’t among the 
9.5 million who just love Oprah, she can choose 
from among the swarm of other hosts who, 
frankly, listen and care more than you do. 

Talk shows are a bargain for producers. They 
cost about $150,000 or $250,000 a week to pro- 
duce, versus about $1 million for an hour of TV 
drama. Nothing is ever resolved. There’s no lim- 

to how often they can run variations on the 
same themes. 

Which is also why they are a bargain for view- 
ers. Unlike soap operas, a woman doesn’t need 
to be home every day to get the lowdown on 
earthlings impregnated by aliens or preteens 
who steal their mothers’ lovers. A little bit of this 
stuff goes along way. 

So before you get in too deep, find out who 
her personal favorite is. Does she schedule lunch 
around Ricki? Does she want a man who under- 
stands her like Phil does? Use the following 
chart to figure out where you stand when she's 
in your studio audience. 


article by Julie Rigby 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES BURNS 


SALLY 


@PRAH JESSY 
WINFREY RAPHAEL 
9.5 million 5 million 
565,000 520,000 
Rebellious farm Exradia 
` girl, Miss Black saathsoyer, 
Tennessee in _ brags of being 
1972, took her fired from 18 
Chicaga show of her first 24 
notianwidein — broadcast jabs 
1986, makes 
= $50 million-plus 
a year 
` Matriarch Avon lody 


Arranged mor- 
riages. Reincar- 
nated kids. 
Criminals who 
sweet-talk 
women out of 
their money 


Being on a jury 
ruined my life. 
A childhoad 
bully ruined 

my life. Hus- 
band gat some- 
body else 
pregnant and 
ruined my life 


Audience chant- "Whoever bites 


ing to a man the biggest 
in a toupee: wienie wins.” 
“Toke it off!” = [Description 
of a bi 
video with top- 
less women) 
To share the To learn words 
humanity such as 
“misogyny” 
Inspired Pissed off in 
a vague and 
undifferentiated 
manner 
Neveraround Best saved for 
when yau wont marriage 


them 


PHIL 
DONAHUE 


4.9 million 
$23,000 


The éminence 
grise of the 
genre—with the 

i hair to prove it. 

1 Extremely prane 
to puzzlement 


2 How to tell 


your child 
а serial killer 


| "Slide down on 
| his penis and 

just sit.” (Thera- 
` pist's advice) 


- Because Alan 
- Alda isn't an TV 
- anymore 


© Like they'll 
punch the next 

= whiny jerk 
they see 


MAURY GERALDO 
P@VICH RIVERA 
4 million 3.9 million 
523,000 $15,000 
First host ofA A.k.a. “Gerry 
Current Affair, — Rivers," 
married to detailed his 
Connie Chung ` prodigious 
` sexual appetite 
` in Exposing 
$ Myself 


` Punching bag 


Sinister 
Maniac Recipes from 
au pairs beyond 


^1 talked my 
mom into doing 
phone sex" 


Asking LaToya's 
= husband and 
© manager if he 
© beats his wife 
` because they 
haven't "con- 
summated 
their marrioge” 


Waiting ta hear : To see how low 


` if Connie’s he'll go 
- pregnant 
- Opentoany-  Vialated 
. thing but you 
Defiantly horny 


: MONTEL 
: WILLIAMS | 


3.1 million 
$8000 


© Former Marine 
‚and motiva- 
` tional speaker 


== 
| En 


= I'm beautiful 
and everybody 

hates me. 
Prostitutes 

$ wha love 

> their jobs 


“If he'll go to 
© bed with either 
` af yau two, 
- he'll go ta bed 
© with anything” 


For the fights 


` Like getting 
dawn and 
giving yau 20 


Raw material 


Spunky (and fat) | Caral Burnett 


Hairspray 

: star lost 
125 pounds, 
gained a shaw 


| America's sexi- 

` est firemen. 
Brothers who 

think their sis- 
ters are sluts 


look-alike and 
i sidekick 


| Overanxious 
I stepmother 


© “I'm the meno- 
pausal maniac” 


To feel superior 
` to at least one 
celebrity 


Still worthless 


© Stor Search win- i Comedian | Inside Edition 


пег (1986) ond : with Ph.D. | correspondent 
Girls’ Night * in sociology with mysterious 


Southern accent ` 
1 ; albums to 
+ improve her 
¿ diction 


; 


£ Nasy neighbor 


Twelve-year-olds | Child molesters. Í Hypochondria 


: who dress like Kids with convict it off. ; ruined my rela- 


sluts. Young girls : parents. Rela- tionship. Child- 
who date alder = tives think she's ` o disability? | rearing tips of 
a slut i © former pam 
H stars. A town 
connected by 
1 its past lives 


Í "She doesn't — "Do you feel he Å kring 


have to run truly loves you, life I chewed 


* araund acting given his lust Å carrots and 
like a ho” far little boys?” ` i spat them into 


; the batter” 


Ws free therapy | Ta watch him 
dribble 


$ Like leaving you : like being held 


+ and cuddled into = 
i unconsciousness ` 


Philenderers : Curable © Wracked 


© Sauth Carolina 
1 native who 
; listened to H 


Barbra Streisand = 


Í Cheerleader 


who turns vio- 
lent. Gennifer 
Flowers, Rox- 
anne Pulitzer 
and Tammy 


1 Faye Bakker 
` (women 


scorned) sing- 
ing I Will 


i Survive 


“Не is more 
liberal than. 


1 conservative in 
the bedroom” 


Like shopping 


Sensational, 
if they're 


| wealthy 


artful eyeful maria checa 
| changed hemispheres 
1o become miss august 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICHARD FEGLEY 


Ko. On ( oLOMBTA 


TS AN hour before clos- 
ing, and the Historical 
Museum of South Flori- 
da is nearly empty, just 
the way Maria Checa 
likes it. Slowly, as if 
treading on hallowed ground, the 
Bogotá-born Miss August wanders 
through the exhibits and stops, 
transfixed, in front of a 19th centu- 
ry photograph of a huge banyan 
tree. "As a child," relates Maria with 
a faint Colombian accent, "I would 
swing from the vines of a tree just 
like that one and play for hours un- 
der its maze of hanging roots. This 
picture brings back a million won- 
derful memories. That is the pow- 
er of great photography.” Maria 


"Being petite—5'2'—can be a definite disadvantage when you're a madel,” says Moria. "| wear 
size ane dresses and my feet are tiny. It's hard to find shoes that fit and clothes that don't 
make me look like a little girl. I wear stretchy clothes because they fit better.” Amen ta that. 


should know. She's a photographer herself, having studied the craft since she was 17 
years old. She shoots primarily with black-and-white film and develops her own pi 


tures, usually portraits of friends or photographs of the art deco architecture in Mi- 
ami's South Beach neighborhood, where she lives. But this self-proclaimed visual 
artist expresses herself with more than a camera. Maria also paints in acrylics and 


watercolors, sketches with 
charcoal, sculpts and cre 
ates three-dimensional 
mixed-media art. Back at 
her studio apartment, 
where she has painted a 
trompe l'oeil sky on the 
wall, she pulls a painting 
from behind an anüque 
armchair that she's re- 
upholstering. Monet, Ma- 
ria's Himalayan cat, jumps 
onto her lap for a doser 
look at the bemused figure 
on the canvas. "This could 
represent me," Maria says. 


"Confused at times, on the 
fence, open to whatever 
comes next. I'm quite 
shy, so I express myself 
through my artwork." 
Maria's father introduced 
her to art by buying her 
brushes and paints when 
she was just a child. “He 


Although she has an artistic 
temperament ond cries easi- 
ly—"lt’s embarrassing. I get 
teary-eyed over sentimentol 
commercials"—a fiery Lotin 
temper lurks just below the 
surface. "| like to orgue," 
Mario admits, "and I'm re- 
lentless about resolving dis- 
agreements. I'll argue until 
yau see my point of view.” 


100 


never gave me coloring 
books, though, because 
just filling in the blanks 
requires no creativity. I 
always knew I had tal- 
ent, and I wanted to 
prove it.” Maria got her 
chance after her family 
moved to Miami in the 
late Seventies, where 
she was later accepted 
at the New World 
School of the Arts, a 
high school for artisti- 
cally gifted teens. After 
graduating, Maria went 
on to the Maryland In- 
stitute College of Art. 
Finances forced her to 
return to Miami, where 
she now supports her- 
self as a makeup artist 
for photo shoots and at 
the cosmetics counter in 
a department store. "I 
still feel a passion for 
art. But sometimes, my 
job takes precedence 
over my artwork.” 
Maria hopes being a 
Playmate will provide 
new artistic opportuni- 
ties. Since appearing in 
the 40th Anniversary Is- 
sue of PLAYBOY, she has 
become somewhat of a 
celebrity both here and 
in her homeland. What 
lies ahead for Maria? 
“Who knows what great 
things will develop 
from these photos,” she 
muses. “My future is a 
blank canvas just wait- 
ing to be painted.” 
—TOM WOTHERSPOON 


"I don't see myself as a sex 
symbol. The real me 
comes through when l'm 
having fun. To impress 
me, a guy should be hon- 
est and fun—take me 
roller-skating, dancing or 
knee-boarding. | know 
it sounds comy, but the man 
I marry will have to have 
good family values. He 
doesn't have to be rich, he 
just has to be passionate.” 


PLAYMATE DATA SHEET 


Bust: A-L wars. 2 2. mrs: BD 

HEIGHT: Ser WEIGHT: jis - 

BIRTH pare: 7-24" 10 arerwrıace: Dogo ‚Colombia ___ 

aurrons: To live like to its Follest have a — 
1 il y vær. 

turn-ons: Å romantie candle light dinner overlook ng the 

tegn ot sunset with someone T care ahoct. 

TURNOFFS: Feople who we qlw late 

dishonest sel£- Centered and have no ambition, 


THE WAY TO MY HEART: Å soi len т 
atlen tron. T lo c to mak 
me feel like Tim number one im hrs. li 
IF I WERE msme: Life woold he less  . W: less 
halleng ба + would make it too 
Lasy do And He answers to my Questions 
I MAY BE TINY: 2 OG ? © 
things dome ìn small paages Žž 
1 wise I нар: The Gabi litt te DUE 


en gears old at a ШЕ Wing Pats 20 years old 
ranch in Orlando "1442 7 


PLAYBOY’S PARTY JOKES 


Doc.” Russell said, "my wife is impossible. I 
have to get rid of her. What can I do?” 

“Look,” the physician said, "here are some 
pills. Take these and you'll be able to screw her 
six times a day. In a month, it'll kill her." 

More than three weeks passed. The doctor 
was on his way to the office when he spotted a 
haggard Russell laboriously making his way 
down the street in a wheelchair. "What the hel 
happened?” he asked. 

*Don't worry, Doc,” the man rasped. “Two 
more days and she'll be dead.” 


Despite warnings from the bartender, the tip- 
sy patron insisted on driving himself home. 
His erratic maneuvers, however, were spotted 
by a policeman, who waved him over. "Good 
eeefning, officer,” the driver slurred. 

“Good evening, sir,” the policeman replied. 
“Drinking?” 

The man's face lit up. “You buying?” 


Bumper sticker spotted on a Manhattan taxi: 
HORN BROKEN. WATCH FOR FINGER. 


On the third day on the job, the new con- 
struction worker joined Goldstein and Salva- 
tore on lunch break. Perched on a steel girder 
Hemp high over the city, Goldstein opened 

is lunch. “Oy vey,” he complained, "not an- 
other corned beef sandwich. If I get one more 
corned beef sandwich, I'm going to jump off 
this girder and kill myself.” 

Salvatore unwrapped his lunch. "Another 
meatball sandwich," he moaned. “If I get an- 
other one tomorrow, I'm going to jump off this 
beam, too." 

The newcomer opened his lunch. "Tuna. Al- 
ways tuna," he griped. "One more of these and 
ГИ kill myself, too." 

The next day the three were back on the 
beam. “Whew,” Goldstein sighed, "finally a 
bagel and cream cheese." 

*Hey, salami," Salvatore exclaimed. "I love 
salami." 

“Oh, shit,” the new man cried, “it’s another 
tuna sandwich.” He promptly leaned over the 
edge and ee to his death 

“Oh, my God,” Goldstein shrieked. “That 
poor man.” 

“1 wouldn't feel too sorry for him,” Salvatore 
said. “He packed his own lunch.” 


An elderly husband and wife were taking a 
stroll on the beach when they happened upon 
a woman sunbathing in the nude. The old 
boy's interest was piqued. Noticing a stirring in 
his shorts, his wife whispered, “I can see, dear. 
You don't have to point.” 


When three patients at a local mental hospital 
began to give attendants trouble, a specialist 
was called in to evaluate them. 

"How much is two times two?” he asked the 
first patient. 

"Five thousand.” 

“How much is two times two?" he asked the 
second. 


"Excellent," the encouraged medic ex- 
claimed. *Can you tell me how you arrived at 
that figure?” 

“Simple,” the beaming fellow explained. “I 
divided 5000 into Friday.” 


What goes “Clip, clop, bang, bang, clip, clop”? 
An Amish drive-by shooting. 


А woman was being interviewed as a prospec- 
чуе juror. “I don't think I can serve," she said. 
*1 don't believe in capital punishment.” 

“Madam, this is a case of a man being sued 
by his wife,” the impatient attorney explained. 
“She gave him $20,000 to buy a fur coat and he 
gambled it away.” 

“On second thought, I can serve," she said. 
“1 could be wrong about capital punishment.” 


THE JOKE TOO SICK TO DIE: 
Did you hear that Michael Jackson had to quit 


the Cub Scouts? Apparenily, he was up to a 
pack a day. 


THIS MONTH'S MOST FREQUENT SUBMISSION: 
What did Jeffrey Dahmer say to Lorena Bob- 
bitt? "Excuse me, you gonna cat that?" 


Heard a funny one lately? Send it on a post- 
card, please, to Party Jokes Editor, FLAYBOY, 
680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 
60611. $100 will be paid to the contributor 
whose card is selected. Jokes cannot be returned. 


Ea) 


“For God's sake, Parker, show some guts and stand up to them!” 


På ASD 


107 


MAKEUP/HAIRSTYLING BY ALEXIS VOGEL 


HETHER you’re а staunch sup- 
porter of the Brady law or a 
lifetime member of the Na- 
tional Rifle Association, one 
thing's for sure—when it comes to wa- 
ter guns, а {тисе has been declared. 
Backpack water tanks, one-pump 
technology and other engineering ad- 
vances—including Larami’s unique 
release lever, which “provides a rapid 
stream of water with better soaking 
control” — make for a wetting party by 
the pool or in the park that's great fun. 


Take that, you little squirt. The Super 
Soaker XP 300 in actian at left is “the big 
one” in Lorami's line of water toys, about 
$40, including a two-gallon backpack 
water tank plus а tria of air pressure bot- 
tles for long-range action. Many other 
versions of the Super Soaker are also 
available. Right: Our model may be tem- 
porarily on the run, but this water fight 
isn't aver quite yet. Her weapon of choice 
is a Super One Pump 1000 air-pressure 
water gun with а 50-foot range ond a 
jumbo tank, by Remco Toys, about $20. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY STEPHEN WAYDA 


GOTCHA! 


when the temperature 
hits 90, make sure you're 
packing plenty of 
liquid ammo, rambo 


WHERE & HOW TO BUY ON PAGE 143. 


ATEMPORARY ELECTRONIC ENTITY HAD JUST 
TAKEN OVER MY TV SET. THAT'S WHAT HE 
SAID. STILL, HE WAS KINDA CUTE 


Fiction By TERRY BISSON 


T HAD been a long day. 

I sighed with pleasure as my door dicked shut behind 
me. I threw the bolt, fastened the chain, ropped the 
bar in place and then snapped the little lock on the bot- 
tom. This was New York, after all. 

Leaving the lights down, I stepped out of my Can- 
die's and hung my Lands’ End car coat on its hook on 
the wall. I stepped through the only other door in my 
tiny studio apartment and turned on the bathwater. 

The temperature and rate of flow were alrcady set. The bub- 
ble bath was waiting in its little Alka-Seltzer-like pill at the 
bottom of the tub. 

After closing the bathroom door to cut the noise, I picked 
the remote out of the clutter on the kitchenette table and 
clicked on the CD player. It, too, was already set—for Miles 
Davis’ All Blues, just like in In the Line of Fire. Can I help it if 
Clint and I are soul buddies? 

I hung up my Clifford & Wills blazer in my almost-walk-in 

110 Closet, let my J. Crew wool skirt and Tweeds silk blouse fall 


PAINTING BY JOHN RUSH 


PLAYBOY 


112 


to the floor (both due at the cleaners), 
then peeled off my pantyhose, wadded 
them into a ball and tossed them into a 
pile in the corner. Miles was just begin- 
ning his solo as I unhooked my tanger- 
ine Victoria's Secret underwire demi- 
bra, shrugged it off and stepped out of 
the marching high-cut bikini with the 
cute little accent bows along the side. 
Аз you may have guessed, I buy every- 
thing by mail. Everything but shoes. 

I tossed the bra and panties into the 
dirty-clothes pile with the pantyhose, 
stopped by the mirror to admire my 
new $78 haircut, crossed to the kitch- 
enette, filled a heavy-bottomed glass 
with white wine from a bottle in the 
coldest corner of the fridge, carried it 
into the bathroom and set it on the 
edge of the tub, then turned off the 
bathwater, all without a single wasted 
motion. This was New York, after all. 
Cannonball was just winding up. I sat 
on the john and lit the joint that was 
waiting for me, tucked into its own 
book of matches. I took two nice long 
hits while Coltrane strode into his solo, 
then nipped out the joint and high- 
stepped into the tub. My Rubenesque 
(аз my ex-boyfriend, Reuben, loved to 
call it) bottom was descending into the 
suds when Coltrane fucked up. 

Coltrane fucked up? 

I stood up, dripping. 

Was my Sony shelf system, only four 
months old, giving up the ghost al- 
ready? Coltrane bleated like a sheep, 
then quit. Somebody hit a bad note on 
a piano. The rhythm section (Cobb, 
Chambers, Evans) stopped playing, 
raggedly, one at a time. 

I grabbed a towel and stepped out of 
the bathroom, dripping water and suds 
onto the wood floor. All Blues was start- 
ing over, at the beginning. It sounded 
fine now. Not knowing what else to do. 
I picked up the remote and hit PAUSE. 

The music stopped clean this time. 
“Sorry about that,” said a voice. 

I clutched the towel to me and 
looked around the studio. 

“I thought music would be easy, like 
speech, but it’s not,” the voice said. 

“Who's there?” I demanded. 

“You want the short answer or the 
long answer?” the voice asked. It sure 
as hell wasn’t Miles or Coltrane. It was 
a guy, but probably not a black guy. 
He pronounced every syllable, like a 
foreigner. 

“Who the fuck is in my apartment?” 
I said. The odd thing was, I wasn't 
scared. Maybe if I'd been in a house or 
a bigger apartment, it would have been 
scary. But you can't have a haunted stu- 
dio; they're too small. 

“Pm not in your apartment,” the 
voice said. 

I couldn't tell where it was coming 
from. I thought of those movies that go 


straight to video—some demented 
dude peeping into your window 
through a telescope while he keeps you 
talking on the phone. 

Except that the blinds were closed. 
And I wasn't on the phone. 

Asan experiment, with a finger and 
thumb, as ifit were hot, I picked up the 
phone and said, “Hello?” 

“Hello,” said the same voice. Over 
my telephone. 

“What are you doing on my phone? 
Is this some kind of crank call? Are you 
some kind of sex fiend?” 

Even though the blinds were closed, 
I pulled the towel around me more 
tightly. What about infrared? What 
about X-ray vision? That used to both- 
er me about Superman, by the way. 
How could he concentrate on fighting 
evil if he could see through women's 
dresses all the time? 

But I'm getting off the subject. “Who 
the fuck are you? What are you doing 
in my apartment?” 

“Calm down, Victoria. I'm not in 
your apartment, I'm on your phone. 
And youre the one who picked up the 
phone.” 

Nobody has called me Victoria since 
my mother died. “Who are you?” 

“Like I said, do you want the long 
answer or the short answer?” 

“The short answer,” I said. 

“Im a temporary electronic entity 
that has taken over your TV set.” 

I didn’t say anything. 

“Victoria, are you still there?” 

“Better give me the long answer,” 
I said. 

“Good. Hang up the phone and turn 
on the TV. ГЇЇ explain.” 

Like an idiot, without even thinking 
about it, I did whar he said. It said. 
Whatever. The same remote that works 
the CD player works the TV. Even 
though it was only 8:30, some kind of 
late-night talk show was on. There was 
this guy sitting аг a desk, looking ill at 
ease, sort of like Conan O'Brien. 

He was mumbling, so I turned up 
the sound. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Since I am part 
of the matrix, I can access all the elec- 
tronics in your apartment, like the CD 
player and the phone. But the televi- 
sion is the real me.” 

“The real you," I said, to humor 
him. I looked in the closet again. I 
looked under the couch. 

“Real is only relative, of course,” he 
said. "There's not really a real me. I'm 
a temporary electronic entity, created 
out of the TV matrix in order to com- 
municate with——” 

"So what's your name?" I said. I 
figured the best thing at this point was 
to keep him—or it, or whatever—talk- 
ing. Meanwhile, I looked in the kitchen 
cabinets, in the dishwasher, even in the 


toilet tank. I don’t know what I was 
looking for: wires, a hidden speaker. 
Maybe a leprechaun? 

"Name? I didn't really think about a 
name," he said. 

"Even a temporary electronic entity 
has to have a name," I said. I figured 
two could play this game (whatever it 
was). It was like some kind of Letter- 
man put-on, like when he comes to the 
door. Except there was nobody at the 
door; I checked through the peephole. 

"A name,” he said. He started tap- 
ping on his desk. "I don't know. Help 
me think of something." 

"How about Joe? Jim? Jack? John?" 

“Joe it is, then." He brightened and 
sat up straighter. "That would make 
this The Joe Show. I wonder if I could. 
come up with a Joe Show band." 

"Slow down, Joe," I said. “I still want 
to know who you are and what you're 
doing in my apartment. I'm as good a 
sport as the next girl, but enough is 
enough, OK?" 

"Number one,” said Joe, “I'm not in 
your apartment. I'm in your TV. If I 
were in your apartment, you probably 
wouldn't be sitting so casually on the 
arm of the couch, your thighs slightly 
parted, so delightfully Rubenesque that 
a towel doesn't begin to cover——" 

My legs flew together so fast my 
knees knocked. "I'm calling the po- 
lice," I said. I turned off the TV and 
picked up the phone, punching 911 so 
hard it was like punching out eyeballs. 

"Don't get є; d," his voice said 
over the phone. "I can't see you. You 
can't see out ofa TV, can you?” 

“Now you’re taking over my phone? 
Operator!” 

"Victoria, slow down. What exactly 
are you going to tell them at 911?” 

I was standing and I sat back down. 
He had a point. Maybe I was just 
stoned. This was the first time I had 
tried this new dope. 

I hung up the phone, pulled the 
towel tight again and turned the TV 
back on. 

“Thanks,” he said. The picture 
looked brighter. Behind the desk there 
was now a big sign that said THE JOE 
SHOW. I could hear a band warming up 
in the background. "This will take 
some explaining,” he said, “so maybe 
you should finish your bath and get 
comfortable. If you want, I'll call out 
for Chinese.” 

That settled it. It was the dope. I was 
relieved (even though it meant I was 
going to have to cut down). I pointed 
the remote at the TV and fired, turn- 
ing it off. “Hasta la vista, Joe baby.” 

I went into the bathroom, shut the 
door behind me and slipped back into 
the bath. My wine on the edge of the 

(continued on page 118) 


“Well, Jennifer is sorry the clip on her naughty garter belt 
scratched Ronnie’s nice new hood.” 


113 


PLAYBOY 


MESSER 


things you can live without, but who wants to? 


Cross Conditioning Systems’ XL 100 Total Body Conditioner provides a better upper- and lower- 


body workout than most exercise machines. It couples intensified cross-country-ski movements 


with computerized programs that range in difficulty from a “Walk in the Park” to “Vail Pass,” $5000. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JAMES IMBROGNO 


The killer colors on Atomic's 
Oxygen O Kr 01 in-line 
skates may caich your eye, 
but the power braking system 
could save your neck. When 
you put pressure on the right 
heel, a spring mechanism in 
the boot causes a wheel grip 


to slow you down, $349. 


This pilot case—with com- 
partments large enough for 
files, a laptop computer and 
even a fax machine—is from 
Louis Vuitton's Taiga collec- 
tion of hunter green leather 
goods. The price: about 
$1660, including a remov- 


able leather pouch for pens. 


You can shoot in the snow, 
the rain or even a sandstorm 
with Sharp's VL-HL100U 
Viewcam, $2200, as long as 
it's sealed in a Sports Pack, 
Sharp's tough water-resistant 
plastic camcorder housing 
with exterior controls, $420, 


including a shoulder strap. 


Look, Ma, no shifting. Like a 
car's transmission, the de- 
railleur on this six-speed Au- 
to Bike senses how fast 
you’re going and changes 
gears accordingly. Other fea- 
tures include a comfy sad- 
dle and dual-purpose tires, 
from Auto Bike, Inc., $329. 


Featuring technology used 
during Operation Desert 
Storm, the Night Mariner 
viewer improves nocturnal 
visibility for yachtsmen and 
others by amplifying avail- 
able light up to 20,000 times— 
and, yes, it floats, from ITT 
Night Vision, about $2400. 


Sony’s CPJ-7 LCD video pro- 
jector is a portable power- 
house that weighs about two 
pounds yet can project im- 
ages up to 100 inches onto a 
screen, $800. Included is 
built-in stereo sound and a 
stereo audio output jack for 


optional external speakers. 


Where & How to Buy on page 143. 


Harman Kardon's sleek new 
brushed-silver Festival 500 
Intelligent Music System 
combines a 60-watt power 
amplifier, CD player, cassette 
deck and tuner, all of which 
can be stacked or placed side 
by side, about $2000, includ- 
ing the speakers shown here. 


PLAYBOY 


118 


The JDE Shou (continued from page 112) 


“Even though Joe had said he couldn’t see out of the 
TV, I slunk around to my closet to get dressed.” 


tub was still cold (I left the joint alone). 
I was finally relaxing again, letting the 
hot water caress the back of my neck, 
when I heard applause. 

I leaned out of the tub and opened 
the door. I heard laughter. Canned 
laughter. 

“I thought I turned you the fuck 
off” I hollered. 

“I can work the remote,” Joe said. 
“And I'd rather be on than off. Any- 
body would. You can't blame me for 
that.” 

“Just go away,” I said. “Please!” 

“No need to be so hostile, Victoria. 
Its after 8:30, which means we have 
only halfan hour.” 

“Half an hour till what?” 

“That's what I'm trying to explain, if 
you will just let me. Why don't you 
finish your bath, then come out and 
watch the show for a few minutes? Ten 
minutes.” 

I pulled the plug. I dried my hair— 
no big deal with my new Lyle-loves-Ju- 
lia look. I made every move slow and 
deliberate, as if I were superstoned, 
though I knew by now it wasn't the 
dope. Apparently it was real, like it or 
not. I dried my fingers, lit the joint and 
took a hit. If I'm going to go off the 
deep end, I thought, may as well do a 
swan dive. 

Even though Joe had said he 
couldn't see out of the TV, I slunk 
around the corner to my almost-walk- 
in closet to get dressed. 

“May I suggest the black lace body- 
suit with the scooped peekaboo front 
and the stretch satin back?” he said. 

Jesus! "You've been going through 
my drawers?” 

“How could I go through your draw- 
ers?” he protested. I peeked around 
the corner of the closet and saw him on 
the screen, holding up his hands. They 
sort of sparkled. But don't all people 
on TV sort of sparkle? 

“You order your clothes by phone, 
that’s how I know about it,” he said. 

“Well, stay the hell out of my stuff,” 1 
said. “And forget the bodysuit, it makes 
me feel like a sausage.” I pulled on 
some panties and covered up with the 
oldest, unsexiest thing I could find— 
my stepfather’s ancient maroon ter- 
tydoth robe—and went out and sat 
down on the couch. Flopped down is 
more like it. 

"This had better be good,” I said. 

“Guaranteed. OK. Where to begin?” 
It was a rhetorical question. Now the 


sign behind the desk was neon: THE JOE 
SHOW. The camera was closer in, the 
lighting was better and I could see that 
Joe was about Letterman's age but bet- 
ter looking. But who isn't? 

“To start with, as I've explained, I'm 
not really a person,” he said. “And this 
isn't really a TV show, though you 
probably figured that out." 

“Thanks a lot," I said. Jesus! 

“I am actually an entity created out 
of the electronic matrix, a temporary 
consciousness put together as a com- 
munications interface in order to make 
a link between my Creator and you, the 
people of earth, through” 

"Wait," I said. 

"You want me to start over?" 

“No, I heard what you said. I just 
don't believe it. I don't intend to be- 
lieve it. I am not one of those Elvis- 
sighting ladies." 

"If I could get the King himself on 
The Joe Show," Joe said with a smile, 
“would that convince you?" There was 
canned laughter, and Joe raised one 
sparkling hand: "Only kidding, Victo- 
ria. I have limited powers, and bring- 
ing Elvis back to life is not one of them. 
I exist for one purpose only, to make a 
connection between my Creator and 
your president." 

“Bill Clinton?” 

“I sure wasn’t created and sent to 
earth to talk to Al Gore. Or H. Ross 
Perot.” More canned laughter. If 
there's anything I hate it's canned 
laughter. I stood up and hit the chan- 
nel changer on the remote. Up, then 
down. Up, down. 

The Joe Show stayed on. 

Joe held up his hand to quiet the 
laughter. “I’m sorry, Victoria,” he said. 
"I aman entertainment entity, after all, 
made out of network TV. It's part of 
my heritage to play for laughs.” 

I sat back down. The camera moved 
in closer. Joe was oozing sincerity, 
wringing his hands like Arsenio Hall. 
“A simulated human interface made 
out of talk-show hosts and news an- 
chors has all sorts of special needs, in- 
cluding the need to get a few laughs. 
And applause.” 

There was applause. Joe quieted it 
with a wave of his hand. 

“Excuse me?” I said. I was beginning 
to get angry. “I just want то turn you 
off, OK? I'm not stupid. I know this is 
some kind of Totally fucking Hidden 
Video or something, and it’s not all that 
funny, So just tell me the real deal and 


we'll all have a laugh—a small one— 
and ГЇЇ get on with my life.” 

“Do you have somebody coming 
over or something?” 

“None of your fucking business.” 

“OK, OK. You said you'd give me 20 
minutes to explain, remember?” 

“Ten. And it's almost over.” 

“Let me try again. As Гуе already 
told you, my only reason for being 
here, for being at all, for existence, is to 
set up a communications link between 
my Creator and Bill Clinton. So your 
next question is, Where do you come 
in, right?” 

"I don't have a next question,” I said. 
“The whole thing is too incredibly 
stupid.” 

“You said you would let me explain, 
Victoria. You could cooperate by ask- 
ing the right questions.” 

“OK,” I said. "Where do I come in?” 

“ГЇЇ get to that part in a minute. 
First, let me point out that this other 
intelligence, this magnificent extrater- 
restrial, my Creator, is using a short 
window for this communication, which 
is why it has to happen tonight. In 20 
minutes, actually. It may never be pos- 
sible again.” 

“I am supposed to believe that you 
are, like, an emissary from another 
intelligence?” 

"I like that. Thats а good word, 
emissary.” 

“What is this—thing? This so-called 
magnificent extraterrestrial.” 

"It's not exactly a thing.” said Joe. 
“It's huge, bigger than your entire star 
system. It’s nota biological entity—not 
even a consciousness, which is a focus 
and limitation of intelligence—but an 
unlimited intelligence made up of elec- 
trical impulses, a creature of pure en- 
ergy. Sort of a plasma cloud. Light 
years across and almost invisible, all the 
way on the other side of the galaxy. Are 
you following me so far?” 

That was the longest and most com- 
plicated thing I had ever heard on a 
talk show. I was impressed in spite of 
myself. I nodded. 

“Good. Well, it so happens that right 
now, this evening, there is a brief mo- 
ment—about a minute and 40 sec- 
onds—during which my Creator will 
bein direct contact with this side of the 
galaxy, through a fortuitous fold in 
space-time. And when the opportunity 
arises to make a link, to reach out and 
touch someone, so to speak, why not 
use it?” 

“But—Clinton?” 

“Can you imagine trying to have an 
intelligent conversation with Yeltsin?” 

“So you're, like, up on earth politics 
and everything?” 

“It’s not that complicated, Victoria. 
Big dog bites little dog, that sort of 

(continued on page 136) 


"T think we can assume the Butlers have finally 
achieved simultaneous orgasm.” 


nineties teens still want to have fun, but 


fear has taken its toll on the joy of sex 


GOING ALL 
EEE AY. 


THERE ARE four girls at the table, sharing. The five smoked- 
chicken minipizzas. The six Caesar salads. An unfathomable 
number of diet Cokes, plus the contents of three breadbaskets. 
They share cigarettes, lighters, breath mints, and it seems that 
they share a basic style: the homage hippie hair (long, brown, 
center part), the bracelet-size hoop earrings, the baseball caps, 
the many layers of black mesh and denim. 

They also share one basic story, the lengthy guy diatribes 
that begin, with variations: “At first he was cute.” 

Cara Goldstein, 19 (the names of interviewed subjects have 
been changed), is, like the others, a freshman at New York Uni- 
versity. She gives the breathlessly definitive guy diatribe: “So 
he came to my high school. And he liked me and I was so ex- 
cited, but I was nervous because I found out he had drug prob- 
lems. No needles. But cocaine, whatever. He'd been with sluts, 
this and that, and I was freaking out. I made him get a blood 
test. I liked him so much, but I was paranoid. Who knows 
where he had been? So I broke up with him and he knew: I 
thought he was а diseased guy. Even if he was cute.” 

It seems impossible to discuss sex with those in the 15-to- 
year-old age range without first stating one essential fact: Sex is 
the primary subject in life, “the thing you spend your time 
wondering about and watching others about and figuring out,” 
as one girl at the table put it. For girls in particular, the whole 
sex experience, as it's known, or the sex situation, seems to re- 
quire an ongoing critical “figuring out.” They speak quickly as 
they review every aspect, so thrilled for the chance to explain 
and dissect that, by the tenth cigarette, their voices are a blur. 
‘Their sentences clot with “like” and “so I said” and “fuck him.” 
They speak so fast, and so loudly, it seems that talking about 
sex is as good as doing it. That's ш you realize that you've 
heard “disease” more often than “kissing,” “needles” more 
than “penis” and you begin to understand that all the speedy 
excitement is really fear. 

I first heard this nervous sex talk in 1988. At the time I was 
interviewing girls in New York City about sex and men, and 
Jennifer Levin, the 18-year-old who had been killed during so- 
called rough sex in Central Park. I (continued on page 150) 


article by BETSY ISRAEL 


ILLUSTRATION BY JANET WOOLLEY 


DANA DELA 


ana Delany has ап image problem. 

Sure, she has done steamy turns as 
Willem Dafoe's ex-junkie girlfriend in 
“Light Sleeper” and a femme fatale in the 
miniseries “Wild Palms.” But mostly Delany 
is remembered for playing McMurphy, the 
introspective and heroic nurse in TV’s Viet- 
nam war drama, “China Beach.” She's 
about to bust her wholesome image wide 
open by starring in “Exit to Eden,” a Garry 
Marshall comedy in which she plays a domi- 
natrix (the film is based on a book by Anne 
Rice, who wrote it under one of her pen 
names). We sent Contribuling Editor David 
Rensin to meet with Delany at her Santa 
Monica home. Says Rensin: “Dana once 
told a writer that she buys vLavBoy, but I 
don’t read the articles. I look at the pictures.’ 
It’s safe to say that's about to change.” 


Mo 


PLAYBOY: When was the last time you 
played nurse with someone? 
DELANY: Never did, even as a kid. I al- 
ways played secretary and boss. I was 
the secretary and Nick Murphy was the 
boss. I used to sit on his lap and take 
dictation, I had a little stenographer's 
pad and I'd fake that I was writing 
something. That was how 1 would do 
my homework, too. I used to make my 
desk up like I was at an office. I'd even 
take phone calls. But the game stopped 
when my family 


р j rented a Dodge 
tv's favorite bus in 1967 to go 
| to the World's 
nurse Whips Fair in Montreal. 
it out for a Nick's family 
rented one, too. 
i We were in the 
movie about back of his bus 
reading PLAYBOY 
sem, Be I sud- 
explains why —denly realized 
M that we were too 
flushing oldite play ene 
Е тагу and boss. Al- 
reminds her <o, think we got 
caught with the 
of dad and magazine. We 
had stolen his fa- 

rates the ther's copy. 


best-hung 2. 

" PLAYBOY: We once 
actors in asked you to 
hollywood 


pose. You de- 


clined but said 
you were flat- 
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ROBERTO ROCCO 


tered. However, 
you've since men- 


tioned our request to a number of in- 
terviewers. If you're not willing to 
pose, why keep bringing it up? 
DELANY: Because posing is every girl's 
dream. As much as it’s not politically 
correct to admit it, it's a validation that 
men find you attractive. I grew up on 
PLAYBOY. I read my father’s—looked at 
the pictures, too. And as a frequent 
viewer of the magazine, I'd like to say 
that I am not turned on by the center- 
fold anymore. I like the ones from the 
Sixties, when the women weren't per- 
fect, when they were kind of soft and 
more womanly. Big breasts and spanky 
pants, I’m telling you! Most men I 
know feel the same way. They miss 
those days. It bothers me that boys 
growing up now—and girls, because 
girls read PLAYBOY, too, and they com- 
pare themselves—are going to think 
that that’s what a body looks like. OF 
course, I'm lucky to have big boobs, so 
I don't have to worry about that. 


3. 


PLAYBOY: Describe the social challenges 
of growing up well-endowed. 

DELANY: There are ramifications. Like 
your mother wanting you to get a 
breast reduction in junior high school. 
Also, it was not fashionable to be large- 
breasted in the late Sixties—it was 
‘Twiggy time. And then there was the 
no-bra era. I didn't wear one for most 
of my formative years, which is terrible 
for young girls. Skin stretches. But I 
was a good student, which is contrary 
to the conventional wisdom that large- 
breasted girls do less homework and 
have more dates. 1 suppose that girls 
with good figures place much of their 
self-esteem in their looks, and that 
their parents do, too. Mine didn't let 
that happen. 


4. 


PLAYBOY: How do you handle conversa- 
tions with men whose gazes drift lower 
than your eyes? 

DELANY: They can stare at my chest. It 
doesn't bother me. It’s all about the 
way you dress. We live in such weird 
times about what is correct and what 
isn't. Society places too much emphasis 
on beauty, and that’s harmful to young 
girls. On the other hand, you also want 
to celebrate beauty. I never thought of 
myself as beautiful. I knew that I was 
cute, but that was it. I remember in 
third grade Rachel Rudick coming up 


tome and saying, “My mother says that 
you're not beautiful, you're attractive." 


5. 


PLAYBOY: What acting advice has served 
you best? 

DELANY: When I was in my 20s, my 
teacher, Gina Barnett, changed my life. 
Alter class one night she said, “Dana, 
you have to stop thinking about your. 
pussy and start thinking about your ca- 
reer." At the time I was so concerned 
about whether or not the boys liked 
me. I was dating Treat Williams. Every- 
thing was about our relationship. My 
acting-class exercises were all about 
how I was the victim. But Gina was 
right. So I started putting all my ener- 
gy into my work, instead of'into having 
somebody fall in love with me. And I 
realized that I didn't want to be with 
Treat, I wanted to be Treat. I wanted to 
have his confidence and power. We're 
great friends now. He's married and 
has a kid and is happy. In fact, I'm 
about to do a short movie that he'll di- 
rect. But at the time I was hiding be- 
hind him. I was about 26 when I got 
my priorities straight, and I haven't 
looked back since. That's when I start- 
ed working. 


6. 


PLAYBOY: What is your fondest Girl 
Scout memory? 

DELANY: You know how they have those 
outdoor toilets where you can see un- 
derneath the door? I remember on a 
Girl Scout camping weekend seeing 
the feet of one of the mothers facing 
the wrong way under the door. I 
thought, Oh my God, Mrs. So-and-So 
is а man! Or else she knows something 
about going to the bathroom that I 
don't. Гуе never been able to resolve 
the mystery of that camping trip. 


E 


PLAYBOY: Is it true you jumped out of a 
plane to get over a boyfriend? What 
was your first thought in free-fall? 

DELANY: My relationship just happened 
tobe ending when a friend asked me to 
go skydiving. I'm glad I did it. I tend to 
bea daredevil. I need to try everything 
once. If someone challenges me, I have 
to do it. My first thought was, Oh shit! 
It's a rush—I lost five pounds. But I 
would not do it again. It’s an external 
high. You're just shaking and jittery. 
It’s like doing a lot of coke. People get 
addicted to jumping. They look crazed 


123 


PLAYBOY 


124 


and jump over and over again, like five 
times a day. I'd rather get that high 
from the inside. 


8. 


PLAYBOY: You've dated guys in the en- 
tertainment business and in politics. 
Which is more fun? 

DELANY: They're both very public pro- 
fessions, and they're both concerned 
with who has the power. Except you 
make a lot more money in the enter- 
tainment business. Darius, my boy- 
friend, is an idealist. He's not about 
making money or being powerful, and 
he's not cynical. He wants to change 
the world. In politics, the hardest thing 
is that you have to be nice to everybody, 
because everybody is a vote. When 
you're an entertainer, you can claim to 
be an artist and say, "I don't care if any- 
body likes me, I'm just doing my 
work.” In politics you have to kiss a lit- 
tle more ass. 


9. 


pLaysoy: Garry Marshall is best known 
for directing the fairy tale Pretty Woman, 
and he cut his teeth developing whole- 
some TV comedies. He directs you in a 
new film, Exit lo Eden, in which you 
play a dominatrix. Isn't this an odd 
project for him? 

DELANY: [Laughs] It actually makes per- 
fect sense. Garry will call himself "the 
man who brought you Happy Days,” but 
he's a wonderfully sexual person. I 
knew we were going to get along when 
I went to his house to meet him. He 
asked me one question. There's a part 
in the script where the slaves—‘citi- 
zens” as we call them—bow down be- 
fore the mistress. He said, "Do you 
think they should kiss her hand or her 
foot?" I said, "Foot, definitely.” So that 
was it. When my friends heard 1 got 
the job they said, "Finally, a part that 
suits you.” And it's true. I've always 
been cast as the girl next door because 
of anatomy—the round face and round 
body. And anatomy is destiny. Now I 
get to express another side of me. 


10. 


PLAYBOY: How did you whip yourself 
into shape for the role? 

DELANY: I read a few books and then I 
consulted a dominatrix, We had a little 
seminar at her house, with various peo- 
ple who are into S&M. And then I 
watched a couple of scenes. That was 
about all I needed because those can 
get kind of heavy, and the movie is a 
comedy. After a while, I started using 
my own fantasies—because we all have 
them. We're all into role-playing. We 
do it unconsciously, whereas these peo- 
ple do it consciously. The majority of 
sadomasochists are normal. Their mot- 
to is safe, sane and consensual. Actual- 


ly, the submissive person is more in 
control than the dominatrix. The sce- 
nario is always determined before- 
hand, and you don't deviate from that. 
You always have a safe word so you can 
stop if you want to. My dominatrix 
friend said there are different reasons 
why someone becomes a dominatrix; 
she was bossy as a kid, so this is the per- 
fect outlet. Now I have this image of 
Lucy in Peanuts growing up to be a 
dominatrix. That's sort of how I felt. 
T'm comfortable being the one who is 
in control. 


п. 


PLAYBOY: Is there а lingerie-buying se- 
cret that you'd like to share with us? 
DELANY: [Smiles] I wear only G-strings. 
They don't show, and it feels like you 
are wearing nothing. I have always 
wondered, though, Why is it called 
a G-string? It’s not connected to the 
G spot. Maybe when strippers took 
them off, guys went, “Gee.” I'd be so 
happy living in the tropics, wearing 
just a sarong. I hate wearing clothes. 
And another thing about underwear: 
It's amazing what a good bra can do. It 
can cover a multitude of sins. I have a 
great collection. You learn about the 
best ones from movie-costume design- 
ers. Any woman's breasts can look 
great with the right bra. 


12. 


PLAYBOY: Have you ever experienced a 
moment in a love scene when you 
knew that the other person had gone 
beyond acting and was swept up in real 
passion? 

DELANY: I hope so! [Smiles] You hope 
that will happen. You're not actually 
going to have sex, but you want the 
person to be totally into you. Its like 
S&M—it's all just role-playing. Even 
though he may touch you in intimate 
ways, most love scenes are choreo- 
graphed, so there are no surprises. 
And you can always say “Cut!” So 
there's really nothing left to chance. 
However, there's a difference between 
someone putting his hand on my thigh 
and somebody inserting a finger. That 
would be crossing the line. But actors 
are very respectful of one another. I 
don't think an actor would last long in 
the business if he crossed that line. 


13. 


PLAYBOY: Why do women keep diaries 
and leave them lying around? 

DELANY: A therapist might say women 
want their journals to be read by the 
men in their lives so that their inner 
thoughts will be understood. And 
maybe because women are such a mys- 
tery, men think they're going to find 
the key to women through their jour- 
nals. Or maybe a man’s curiosity re- 


volves around: “How does she write 
about me?” “How big am I in her life?” 
I wouldn't mind somebody reading my 
journals after I'm dead. I've kept them 
since I was in first grade. I go back now 
and read them on afternoons when I'm 
avoiding something, and there are the 
same themes over and over again. 
Mostly they're painful to read. I won- 
der God, don't you think better of 
yourself? I had such low self-esteem as 
a teenager, writing "I have to lose ten 
pounds." It's all the societal stuff that's 
put on you, that you're not good 
enough. Mine sound like 7rue Confes- 
sions. Now, because I'm happy, I don't 
write that much. 


14. 


PLAYBOY: Whose diary have you read? 
DELANY: When I was about 12, I found 
my fathers journal. It's my biggest 
treasure because it captures the life of a 
16-year-old in Brooklyn in the Thir- 
ties: going to the triple feature—he 
used to rate the movies—how the girls 
wouldn't talk to him. “I went to Mass 
today and said three Hail Marys"—that 
kind of thing. He also wrote about how 
a guy on his track team died in front of. 
him on the field. It was his first experi- 
ence with death. 

Keeping a journal myself, I realize 
that the things you write down aren't 
necessarily the things you believe. For 
me it's a way of getting shit out, it's 
gone, then I don't feel that way any- 
more. It's sort of an exorcism. 


15. 
ruavnov: Describe the pleasure and 
pain of a tequila high. 


DELANY: It’s a great drunk because it's a 
happy drunk. The worst part is the 
hangover—but I've been very good 
lately. I'm trying! My worst hangover 
was when I combined tequila and 
champagne. I woke up in a strange 
man's office—with only a sweater on. 
That was bad. [Laughs] The worst. 
[Pauses] Everything turned out fine. Oh 
no, I should never have told you that. 


16. 


PLAYBOY: Your great-grandfather in- 
vented a toilet flush valve. Is there a 
certain way to tell someone the source 
of your family’s fortune that minimizes 
the snickering? 
DELANY: I like the snickering. I've never 
been embarrassed about my father’s 
business. We had great bathroom hu- 
mor in my family. Whenever I use a 
public bathroom and see my name on 
the flusher, I get a rush. My father's 
dead, so it's like It’s a Wonderful Life— 
whenever you hear a bell ring, an angel 
gets its wings. Whenever I flush a toi- 
ler, I figure my father is watching me. 
(concluded on page 154) 


“Oh, boy. We can fax!” 


125 


in italy's fashion 


capital, we found 
the finest scenery 


ILAN 


IVA M 


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Ed 
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9 
E 
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н, MILAN—the 
heart of Lom- 
bardy, the fo- 
cus of Italian 
commerce, the 
wealthiest city 
in the nation. Situated near the 
foothills ofthe Alps and the clear 
mountain lakes of Italy's north 
егп territory, Milan is also the 
epicenter of European fashion. 
It is the mecca to which models 
flock from around the world, 
each of them eager to make her 
stunning mark in the beauty in- 
dustry. And romance? One look 
at Milan and you're in love. All of 
which makes a trip there a natur- 
al for us. We enlisted a team of al- 
luring international models—as 
well as Playmates Samantha Dor- 
man and Becky DelosSantos— 
and jetted off to the city of 
ancient palazzi and bustling 
avenues. Once settled, we got to 
work: As our coterie of knock- 
outs upstaged the scenery, we 
sought out equally striking lo- 
cals—the kind of bellissime who 
turn heads on the city’s fashion 
runways and sidewalks. As you 
can imagine, it wasn't hard to 
find them. Feast your eyes, then, 
оп a true marriage of American 
know-how and Italian style. 


At left, Italian lensman Stefano 
Crace gets a bead on (from left to 
right) Elisabeth Colony of Paris, 
Sweden's Mia Sandberg, Saskia 
Dau fram Berlin and Narwegian 
Hege Isebakke. Belaw, the quartet 
has them eating out of their hands 
in the Piazza del Duamo. 


At left, Nicole Rhodes (in bodysuit), 
and April Christenson (in bra and 
pantie set) bathe the ald-fashioned 
way. Oh, far a window facing that 
courtyard. Italy’s Pertile Alessandra 
(bottom left) has modeled around the 
world. She hopes ta settle dawn one 
day, preferably in sunny Brazil. 
Danelle Folta (below) hails from 
Indiana. Obviausly at home an the wa- 
ter, she aspires “to became a gandola 
guide in Venice.” And Danna Perry 
(right) is a Californian of Irish-Italian- 
German extraction. She describes 
herself as “the kind of persan who 
gets alang with everyone.” 


As you con tell from her photo (for left), Itolion model Pierucci Lorenza is outstonding in her field. Below, she joins fellow bella Pertile 
for o friendly frolic omong the sunflowers. Not surprisingly, Pertile tells us her favorite postime is jumping around in open spoces. 
“1 love ploces with o lot of noture,” she exploins. "I wont to be free as much as possible, discovering the beauty of the world.” 


This page, clockwise from top left: Danelle 
can turn even a statue's head. Nicole 
Rhodes takes her lingerie aut for а road 
test. April laves to scuba dive and ski, as 
long as she can sleep in. Holland's Helene 
Rallingswier dreams of becoming "a big, 
fat blues singer.” On the opposite page, 
reacquaint yourself with April 1994 Ploy- 
mate Becky DelosSantos, who enjays 
“men, sex, Mexican food and tequila.” 


{э AA 
хушу: 


PLAYBOY 


The SUE Shou continued from page 118) 


“Т could almost imagine Joe's waveforms, or whatever 
he called them, over my body like bathwater.” 


thing. Woof woof woof.” 

More canned laughter. 

“I thought you were going to cool it 
on the comedy.” 

“Sorry. ТЇЇ delete the laugh track,” Joe 
said. He shrugged comically, but the au- 
dience—or rather the laugh track—was 
silent. “See? Anything for you.” 

“ОК. So now, explain where I come 
in. What do you want me to do—call the 
president?” 

“No, no, no. I'm setting that up 
through the White House staff. The ac- 
tual communication will be through a 
satellite link at approximately 9:04 east- 
ern standard time, when the president 
will be aboard Air Force One crossing 
the north magnetic pole, and a tempo- 
rary alignment of the aurora borealis 
with the galactic lens will make this oth- 
erwise unthinkable transmission possi- 
ble. For one minute and 40 seconds. 
Think of it as an actual conversation be- 
tween the leader of the free world and 
an awesome alien intelligence. Alien but 
friendly.” 

“How friendly?” 

“Very friendly.” 

“So where do I come in?” 

“Well, to let me use your phone line. 
And to help me maintain the link. That’s 
the hard part, so to speak. Maybe you 
want to slip into something comfortable 
while I explain it. Have some more wine. 
Another hit of dope.” 

“Not if I'm going to be talking with the 
president.” 

“You won't be talking with anybody 
but me. Besides, does Bill Clinton look 
to you like a guy who's never smoked 
a joint?" 

"Yes. I know for a fact that he's never 
inhaled." 

"Whatever. Anyway, you are the key to 
the whole process, Victoria. One, you 
are smart and capable. Two, you read 
science fiction." 

“No, I don’t. I watch Star Trek: The Next 
Generation when there is nothing 
else on." 

"Close enough. Three, you are a Dem- 
ocrat. And four, you look so good sitting 
there, cross-legged, with nothing on un- 
der your robe but those little white cot- 
ton panties." 

I begged his pardon. "I beg your 
pardon?" 

I switched off the TV. It came back on. 
I wasn't surprised. I pulled the robe 
tight around my neck; I was no longer 
sitting cross-legged. "I thought you 
couldn't see out of the TV," I said. 

"I can't, exactly. But that was sort of an 


136 evasion," Joe said. "Light is just wave ac- 


tion, and I'm all wave action. Inside or 
outside your robe is all the same to me. I 
know, for example, that you are not 
wearing a bra, that you don't need one, 
that — 

“This is either a sick joke or some kind 
of weird alien interstellar sexism." 

"Maybe. Just hear me out, OK? I'm 
getting to the hard part. We chose you 
for this operation, Victoria, not only be- 
cause you are cute—and you are cute— 
but because we figured you would have 
the intelligence to understand and go 
along with it. If we chose wrong, and we 
may have chosen wrong, it's a lost op- 
portunity, since there's not enough time 
to set up another communications link. I 
like your new haircut, by the way." 

"What time is it exactly?" I asked. 

The THE jor show sign behind Joe's 
desk blinked off and was replaced by a 
digital clock: 8:47. The clock blinked off, 
the sign blinked back on—and I blinked, 
thinking for the first time that all this 
might in fact, just possibly, be true. 

And as soon as I thought that, I real- 
ized it was true. It had to be. Nobody 
could make up, much less pull off, such a 
scheme. “So you're for real,” I said. 

“Not for real,” Joe said. “I’m an elec- 
tronic simulation, remember? But I'm 
serious. Can we talk now without you 
freaking out and turning off the TV or 
calling 911?” 

“I guess,” I said. "You'll just switch 
yourself back on anyway.” 

“But it hurts my feelings. Even if I am 
put together out of talk-show hosts and 
news anchors, I have feelings. At least I 
think I do.” 

“Just explain, Joe. Please.” 

“OK. The thing is, we need you to 
help me maintain my consciousness.” 
His hair was longer and darker. He was 
starting to look more like Howard Stern 
than Letterman. “Are you familiar with 
how an erection is caused in the human 
male by the blood engorging the organ 
you call the penis?” 

“Familiar enough,” I said. 

“Then you probably also understand 
how thought, imagination, conscious- 
ness itself, is made possible by the blood 
flow to the neural mass you call the 
brain.” 

“Get to the point,” I said. 

“Well, this electronic neural simula- 
tion we call Joe—meaning me—com- 
bines all that in one electron flow pat- 
tern, since with a temporary entity there 
is no need for long-term memory or re- 
production. My Creator made it all one 
system, to simplify things. But it makes 
things more complicated in a way, since 


to maintain the electron flow to the so- 
called brain or consciousness circuit, 
we also have to keep the sexual circuit 
stimulated.” 

“You're telling me you can't think 
straight unless you have a hard-on?” 

“That's it,” Joe said. “Of course, we 
are talking electronic simulations here. 
Actually, I dont even have a——” He 
looked down at his lap. 

"Spare me the details,” I said. “Do you 
mean this whole time we've been talking, 
you've been —" 

"Maintaining my consciousness by 
enjoying the company of a beautiful 
woman who just stepped out of the bath. 
Victoria, I'm here only because you turn 
me on." 

I didn't know whether to feel flattered 
or insulted. I felt a little of both. 

“So you're asking me to strip for you?" 

"Not exactly. I know from the mail or- 
ders you place that you like to, shall we 
say pamper yourself with elegant and 
exotic lingerie." 

“There's nothing exotic about it, and 
I bought most of it to please my ex- 
boyfriend," I said. 

“You've bought several things since 
you broke up with him." 

“Maybe I decided to be my own 
boyfriend," I said. "And besides, I still 
say this is sexist as all hell.” 

“Maybe it is,” said Joe. “But I can't 
help what I am, which is an electronic 
entity made out of network TV, which 
makes me very male, and probably what 
you call sexist. If you had cable, or if I 
had been put together out of PBS, 
maybe music or even Charlie Rose 
would provide me with consciousness. 
As it is, it’s visual sexual stimulation. A 
beautiful woman in beautiful lingerie.” 

“White cotton panties are not exactly 
exciting lingerie,” I said. 

“Tell that to Elvis,” Joe said. 

I didn't know what to say, so I said, 
“Well, I don’t know.” 

“What's to know?" Joe said. "Look at it 
this way. I didn't set this up and neither 
did you. We're both just doing our job. If 
it bothers you that damn much, then for- 
get it. Get dressed and go out, or turn off 
the lights and go to bed. All you'll miss is 
The Joe Show. And a chance to facilitate 
a once-in-eternity communications link 
between your president and an incredi- 
bly wise, interesting and magnificent ex- 
traterrestrial that's about 18 times the 
size of your entire fucking solar system.” 

“Don't get so excited,” J said. I got up 
for another glass of wine. As I walked to 
the fridge I could almost imagine Joe's 
waveforms, or whatever he called them, 
sparkling all over my body, gently, like 
bathwater. I was wearing the terrydoth 
robe, and the panties of course, and yet I 
felt more naked than I had ever felt 
in my life. The feeling wasn't entirely 
unpleasant. 

I poured myself some wine and barely 


caught myself before offering Joe some. 
“Do me one favor and knock off the Elvis 
talk, OK? It makes me feel like a nut 
case.” 

“Done,” Joe said. “Elvis is history.” 

“Now, what is it, exactly, that you have 
in mind?” 

“You know that sheer camisole top 
and scoop-front bikini you ordered from 
Victoria's Secret 

“Yeah,” I sai 

“Pll bet you were planning to wear it 
tonight.” 

Actually, I was. “Actually, I was,” I said. 

“Well?” 

Well, why not. I went to change. The 
cool new silk felt good between my legs, 
and the low-cut lace bodice did wonder- 
ful things with my nipples. 

I felt a little nervous stepping back out 
in front of the TV. “This what you had in 
mind?” 1 asked. 

“Does Father Guido Sarducci wear a 
hat?" Behind Joe, on the show, I heard a 
cymbal crash. 

“That band is pretty bad,” I said. 

“They're out of here.” Joe cut them off 
with a Letterman-like gesture. "They're 
history, just like Elvis.” 

“You are kind of sweet in your own 
way,” I said. I could feel my nipples get- 
ting hard. Looking down, I could see 
them through the camisole. I lit the joint 
and took another hit. There was now a 
sofa to one side of Joe's desk. A woman 
in a short black leather skirt, showing 
lots of leg, sat on it, next to a guy wear- 
ing blue jeans and a sports coat. 

"Who are your guests?" I asked. 

“Nobody, really,” Joe said. "Just gener- 
ic. Part of the matrix. See how the show 
livens up when you slip into something, 
shall we say, comfortable?" 

“Are you trying to make me blush?” 

“Maybe a little. I like it when you 
blush there.” 

“Where?” 

“On the insides of your thighs.” 

The amazing thing was that instead of 
closing my legs, I opened them more. 
Joe's slightly out-of-focus smile made me 
feel warm, welcoming, even (I confess) a 
little wet. Maybe he's the ideal boyfriend 
at last, I thought. Real and not real. 
Here and not here. 

There was now a digital clock display 
inside the o in stow. It read 8:56. "Aren't. 
you supposed to be calling the White 
House?" I asked. 

"I'm on the line right now,” Joe said. 
"Pm in the West Wing, talking to 
Stephanopoulos. He's the one who has 
to convince the president that this is for 
real. We can't do it cold.” 

“He's cute, that Stephanopoulos,” I 
said, shrugging the camisole strap off 
one shoulder, “But how can you be talk- 
ing to him and, you know, romancing 
me at the same time?” 

“Multitasking,” said Joe. "Its actually 


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137 


PLAYBOY 


138 


what I am best at.” 

Was it the dope or was I feeling a faint 
twinge of jealousy? “And Stephanopou- 
los, he believes your story?” 

“Oh, yeah. We're almost ready to put 
the call through to the, you know... 
what's-his-name.” 

“The president.” I said. “Hey, Joe!” 

Joe looked like he was about to nod 
off. He had his chin on his hand. 

“Sit up!” I said. “Jesus! You're the one 
who told me to wear this outfit.” 

“Sorry,” Joe said. “It’s just that the link 
takes so much energy . . . it’s hard to 
maintain full consciousness. We're about 
ready to make the connection, and you 
are doing fine. But how about that little 
item you ordered when you were still go- 
ing with what's-his-name. . . . ” 

“Reuben,” I said. “Keep talking.” I 
went to the closet and stepped out of the 
camisole and bikini. I found the litle 
rose-colored silk thong and slipped it on 
(or slipped it in, you might say). Reuben 
hadn't been into bras, but I hada feeling 
Joe was. I didn't have anything in rose, 
bur I found a pink lace demi-bra that 
barely covered my nipples. I added 
some gold loop earrings and asked, 
“Have you made the link yet?” 

“Its going through right now, at this 
moment. The aurora is shimmering. 
The galactic lens is lined up. Your presi- 
dent and my Creator are about to make 
contact. In only a few seconds, if we can 
maintain this connection, we are going 
to make history.” 

Before stepping back into the room, I 
checked myself in the mirror. The thing 
about a $78 haircut is that it looks the 
same from every angle—great. 

“You could say the same thing about a 
million-dollar ass,” Joe said. 

“What?” Jesus! “You can read my 
mind?” 

“Only the most superficial stuff,” Joe 
said. “Surface electrical activity. Stuff 
about haircuts. I find myself hoping 
you'll turn around before you sit down.” 

1 found myself doing it. I found myself 
enjoying it. I felt as if Joe’s waveforms 
were caressing me inside and out, and I 
didn't mind feeling that I was almost as 
naked in my mind as I was in my body. I 
didn't feel I had anything to hide. Not 
from Joe. 

“What else do you find yourself hop- 
ing?” I said, stretching out on the couch 
with my legs spread blushingly wide. 

"That you'd do what you just did.” 

“Now you're the one who's blushing,” 
I said. 

“Must be because I like your ear- 
rings,” he said with a smile. 

On the couch beside his desk, the 
woman in the short leather skirt was sit- 
ting with her legs spread å la Sharon 
Stone. The guy next to her was starting 
to look a little like Stephanopoulos, 

“Great show tonight, Joe,” I said. “Ex- 
cept for the band.” 

“TIl fire the band if you'll indulge me 


and slip your bra off.” 

“You already fired them, remember?” 

"I'll hire them so I can fire them 

in.” 

“What girl could resist such an offer?” 
I was starting to love The Joe Show; it 
made me feel witty as well as beautiful. I 
shrugged the straps off my shoulders 
and pulled the cups down, pushing my 
eager, star-struck breasts up and out to- 
ward the bright lights of The Joe Show. 
Some girls’ nipples get smaller when 
they get hard. Mine get bigger. 

“I think we have contact!” Joe said. 
His guests applauded. I did too. 

“Tell me something about this Cre- 
ator,” I said, unhooking my bra and tak- 
ing it off altogether. “What's he like?” 

“What makes you so sure it's a he?" 

I had to laugh. There I was stretched 
out in nothing but a G-string and ear- 
rings. “Just intuition,” I said. 

“Well, he’s like a plasma cloud. He has 
no mass, but he does have a certain 
luminosity.” 

“Not that kind of stuff,” I said. 
mean, is he nice?” 

“Nice?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Like him? I love him,” said Joe. “I 
adore him. He created me. He's given 
me this wonderful existence, even if it is 
short.” 

Joe was sweet, no doubt about it. 
“Do you want me to delete something 
else?” Lasked. 

“Delete?” 

But he could be dense. “Take some- 
thing else off,” I said. 

“Does Leno have a jaw?” 

I took off an earring. It rang when it 
hit the floor. 

“I was thinking about the little pantie 
thing.” 

“I could tell you were thinking about 
it,” I said. Were the insides of my thighs 
blushing? I was feeling as lubricious as a 
dewy summer evening. “But I'm going 
to leave it on for now and give myself 
a little almond-oil rubdown. Besides, 
aren't you supposed to be working on 
this historic communications link?” 

“Lam,” Joe said. 

“Multitasking?” 

“You bet,” 

Joe sat back with his hands behind his 
shaggy head—he had a bad haircut fora 
talk-show host—while I rubbed hand- 
warmed almond oil into the backs of my 
knees, the bottoms of my feet and the in- 
sides of my thighs. The thing about 
guys—even simulated guys—is that 
they're so simple. It's what makes them 
both a pleasure and a pain. “How’s Bill 
doing?” I asked. 

“Bill?” 

“He and your boss getting along?” 

“Fantastic,” Joe said. "But who's pay- 
ing attention?” 

“Thought you were multitasking.” I 
put the almond oil away and took anoth- 
er hit ofdope. 


*Multipleasure is more like it.” 

I lay back on the couch, glistening, 
and spread my legs just a little more. 
“You say such nice things, Joe. I almost 
wish you were a real guy.” 

"I almost am.” 

Just as an experiment, 1 pulled the 
tiny rose silk thong bikini to one side 
and, just as an experiment, slipped two 
fingers under and in between and, just 
as an experiment. . . . 


I heard a cymbal crash. 

Joe was sitting upright at his desk. 
He was looking at me funny, as if we had 
just met. 

"I thought you fired that band,” I said. 
“You OK?" 

"Absolutely." 

"What happened?" 

“Nothing! The boreal window closed, 
I think. The communication is over. It 
worked. 

“It did?” 

“Absolutely. It was great. The White 
House, Bill on the phone, the whole 
thing. You were great, too.” 

“I was?” He seemed distracted. I sud- 
denly felt cold. I got my terrycloth robe 
out of the closet and slipped it on. 

“Absolutely. Anyway, my time is up. I 


have to go.” 

"Go?" I couldn't help it, I sounded 
disappointed. 

“Yeah. See, the thing is, I have this 
long shutdown protocol." 


“Does that mean . . . you die?" 

“Yeah, but it's no big deal," Joe said. 
“Like I said, I’m a temporary entity.” 
"The camera moved in closer and Joe lita 
cigarette, which looked strange, since 
people hardly ever smoke on TV any- 
more, even on the latest late-night 
shows, “Last cigarette,” he said, and I 
heard canned laughter. 

The camera moved in still closer. 
“How do you spell your last name?” he 
asked in a loud whisper. 

“W-i-n-d-e-r,” I said. 

The camera pulled back. “Victoria 
Winder!” Joe said loudly, mispronounc- 
ing it. There was applause from the au- 
dience, or from somewhere. Even the 
two guests on the couch applauded. 
Suddenly, irrationally, I hated them. 

“ГІ call you, Victoria,” Joe said out of 
a corner of his mouth, reaching across 
his desk to shake hands with the guests. 

And the picture was gone. I was 
watching Seinfeld, which I also hate. 

I flicked through all the channels, but 
he was gone. No Joe Show. I suddenly felt 
very naked. I got dressed and went 


tobed. 
. 


The next morning while I was pick- 
ing through the disaster area that was 
my apartment, looking for something 
to wear to work, I thought about ev- 
erything that had happened the night 


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139 


PLAYBOY 


before, and I thought, No way! No fuck- 
ing way. 

And yet.... 

There was the empty glass, the roach 
in the ashtray. The Miles Davis CD in the 
player, still on pause. The lingerie 
thrown about. Even the earring under 
the couch. 

I bought The New York Times on the 
way to work, but there was nothing in it 
about a call to Air Force One from the 
other side of the galaxy. But would there 
be? Like an idiot I even checked the TV 
listings, though of course I knew better. 
No Joe Show. 

After an hour at work, I had put it out 
of my mind. I would have forgotten it al- 
together, except that Joe did say he 
would call. For a night or two—OK, a 
week or two—l almost expected to hear 
his voice whenever I picked up the 
telephone. 

But I got over it. I did flip through the 
channels once or twice—OK, several 
times—not really expecting to find him. 
But that was it. I filed it under Unsolved 
Mysteries and forgot about it. 

Then, three weeks later, while I was 
standing in line at the Key Food on 
Broadway and 96th, my eyes lit on one 
of those bizarre supermarket tabloid 
headlines: 


HOUSEWIFE STRIPS FOR STAR MAN 
How Her Sexy Chemise Powered 
Interstellar Summit 


I had never bought one of those pa- 
pers before. Imagine my surprise when I 
read what was essentially my own story, 
with only the names changed. A woman 
who lived in Bend, Oregon had been 
contacted by an entity she called Luxor, 
who ran a sort of game show on TV and 
had enticed her into a form of strip 
roulette in order to “engorge his facul- 
ties” so he could set up a meeting be- 
tween an extraterrestrial intelligence 
and ex-president Reagan. 

Needless to say, she was not a Dem- 
ocrat but a Republican. 

First I was amazed. Then skeptical. 
Then pissed. Then curious. I tried call- 
ing the Weekly World Globe, but the paper 
didn't havea phone, only a box in Sioux 
City. So I called my only contact in the 
newspaper business, my former best 
friend, Sharon, who worked editing the 
personals for The Village Voice. 

I read her the headline and said, “I 
thought they made up those stories.” 

“They do,” Sharon said. 

“No, they don't” I said, and told her 
in some detail what had happened to 
me. Maybe in too much detail, because 
the story seemed to make her nervous. 
“Let me call you right back,” she said. 
But she didn't. She wouldn't take my 
calls, either. 

I waited a few days, during which I 
scanned the tabloids for follow-up sto- 
ries, but there was only the usual Elvis 


140 and saucer stuff. Finally I called Sharon 


at work and left a message on her voice 
mail: “Either return my call or I will tell 
your mother what you actually do at the 
Voice.” 

She returned my call. “Can you meet 
me after work?” she said. 

“Fine,” I said. I met her at a coffee 
shop on 21st and Park Avenue South, 
halfway between her office and mine. A 
tall woman with dark hair was with her 
in the booth when I got there. I was so 
mad at the runaround I had been get- 
ting that I didn't pay much attention 
when Sharon introduced her as Eleanor 
from NASA. I thought she meant the 
county on Long Island. 

“Glad to meet you,” I said, then 
turned to Sharon. “Now kindly explain 
to me why you are acting so goddamn 
weird.” 

“Because it happened to me, too, 
Vickie. It happened to thousands of 
women. 

“What happened?” I was going to 
have coffee but decided to order a glass 
of wine. Sharon and her friend were 
both drinking wine. 

“A couple of weeks ago,” Sharon said, 
“an electronic entity showed up in my 
computer at home, wanting me to wear 
leather and lace for him.” 

“Leather and lace?” 

“I have a little collection.” 

“Were you smoking dope?” 

“You know I don’t smoke dope any- 
more. I gave it up when you did.” 

“Did he tell you he was trying to set up 
a meeting with President Clinton?” 

“The Dalai Lama.” 

“And you believed him?” 

“Don’t sound so shocked, OK? To tell 
you the truth, Vickie, I figured it was 
some horny hacker’s demented master- 
piece, but harmless enough. I'm kind of 
a hacker myself. Anyway, he got me go- 
ing. With the computer it's more physi- 
cal than with the TV. You can run the 
mouse all over you” 

"Spare me the details," I said. “Then 
Joe's whole story was bullshit." 

“Not exactly,” Eleanor from NASA 
putin. 

“After I heard from you,” Sharon said, 
“I got curious, and I posted an inquiry 
on the Internet.” 

“It was, “Had safe sex with an elec- 
tronic entity?” Eleanor said, smiling 
shyly into her wineglass. I realized who 
she looked like. It was the girl from sex, 
lies, and videotape, the nice one. The one 
with a guy's name. 

“And by midnight I had heard from 
1100 women on three continents,” said 
Sharon, “all of whom had been contact- 
ed by an electronic entity and ——" 

“Contacted?” J said. “Seduced. Co- 
erced. Raped, is more like it.” 

“Whatever. Don't get so excited. You 
always have to get so excited. Persuaded, 
let's say, to strip on the evening of Octo- 
ber 14 under the pretext that —" 

“Eleven hundred on the same night?” 


"It's referred to as multitasking,” said 
Eleanor. 

“Anyway,” said Sharon, “to make a 
long story short, they—we—all tell the 
same story. The temporary entity, the in- 
terstellar plasma-cloud intelligence, the 
high-level meeting. The details vary, but 
the results are the same.” 

“We all undressed for him,” 
Eleanor. 

“We all took it off,” said sharon. 

“So it was a hustle,” I said. 

“Sort of,” said Eleanor. “But like any 
good hustle, parts of it were true. I know 
because we at NASA had been——" 

“Wait a minute. NASA the space 
agency?” 

“I told you that when you came in,” 
Sharon said. 

“We at NASA had been tracking this 
thing for more than a month,” Eleanor 
went on, “and” 

“Tracking what thing?” 

“The electronic entity. The thing you 
call Joe, and Sharon calls Reuben.” 

“Reuben?” 

“Just let her finish,” Sharon said. “You 
never let anybody finish.” 

“We at NASA had become aware that 
there was a free-floating conscious entity 
in the electronic matrix around the 
country in early October,” said Eleanor. 
"It showed up in NASA's global satellite 
links, in the Internet, in the cable TV 
system, even in the phone lines. We were 
still tracking it when it suddenly disap- 
peared on the 15th of October. What we 
found out later was that it had contacted 
thousands of people, all women, without 
our knowing about it.” 

“But thought you were one of them," 
I said. 

“I keep my private life separate,” said 
Eleanor, “At least I thought it was pri- 
vate. Until 1 saw Sharon's message on 
the Internet.” 

"So Joe was real!” I said. I was re- 
lieved, and a little stunned, to discover 
that I hadn't been totally deluded. “A 
self-created electronic consciousness.” 

“Not self-created,” said Eleanor. "The 
part about the plasma cloud, the nonbio- 
logical intelligence bigger than a star sys- 
tem—that part was also true. As soon as 
we knew what to look for, we located it, 
all the way on the other side of the 
galaxy. And the plasma doud created 
the temporary electronic entity, there's 
no doubt about that. Matrix nets have 
imprints like DNA. Right now at NASA 
we are trying to figure out a way to set 
up communications with the plasma 
cloud directly, since the interface it creat- 
ed for itself was only temporary and is 


said 


now gone.” 

"And was such a fuckin’ liar,” said 
Sharon. 

“But wait,” I said. “If all that was 


true—Joe and his Creator, both parts of 
it—then what was the lie?” 

“All the rest,” said Sharon. “Clinton 
and Stephanopoulos. Air Force One. The 


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Dalai Lama. Ronald Reagan. Michael 


Jackson —" 


"Michael Jackson?" 

Eleanor was blushing, looking down 
into her wineglass. 

“Try not to be so judgmental, OK?" 
Sharon said. "You are always so judg- 
mental. But yes, the phone call to the 
Dalai Lama or Mother Teresa or 
whomever—that part was all bullshit." 

“If all the communications stuff was 
bullshit," I said, "then what was the 
point? Why were we contacted?" 

“Think about it," Eleanor put in, still 
blushing. 

"Think hard," said Sharon. 

“You girls are not serious. Joe—the 
entity—was just using us to—to get off? 
That was the whole purpose?" 


"Sex," said Eleanor. 

“He was cruising," said Sharon. 

"Either it was the electronic entity or 
the plasma cloud,” Eleanor said. "Or 
maybe both at once. NASA is still work- 
ing on that." 

1 couldn't think of anything to say, so I 
said, "Well, ГЇЇ be damned." I waved for 
the check. 

"And there's one other part that's 
a lie," Sharon said as we divided up 
the bill. 

"What's that?" 

“The part where he says that he'll 

I you." 

"Oh, that," I said, as we walked out to 
Park Avenue to look for three separate 
cabs. "That part I never believed." 


or. DEATH 


(continued from page 88) 
into a live volunteer? Think of the bat- 
tefield applications! 

One night, when the corpse of a 14- 
year-old girl arrived in the emergency 
room, Kevorkian set up his experiment. 
He couldn't find the girl's jugular, so, 
thinking fast, he plunged his syringe di- 
rectly into her heart and injected the 
blood into a vein of his 35-year-old vol- 
unteer. When he asked her how she felt, 
the volunteer spoke of a fanny taste in. 
her mouth. Kevorkian panicked. What 
am I doing? he thought. Poisoning her? 
Later he discovered that the girl had 
been drunk and guessed that his volun- 
teer had tasted liquor. 

There's a thread that runs through all 
of Kevorkian's obsessions. He's trying to 
rehabilitate death, to rescue something 
positive from its jaws: scientific knowl- 
edge, blood for the injured, new organs 
for those who need them. He's trying to 
seize life from death. 

He's not satisfied with physician-assist- 
ed suicide alone: It’s a dignified death, 
sure, and it saves some pain, but it’s still 
just a death, a negative, a loss. Kevor- 
kian’s ultimate vision would combine all 
of his crusades into one. He would make 
each death a shining, productive event. 

A year after he first assisted in adeath, 
that of Janet Adkins, Kevorkian pub- 
lished his book Prescription: Medicide. In 
it he describes his mission: “It is not sim- 
ply to help suffering or doomed persons 
kill themselves—that is merely the first 
step, an early, distasteful professional 
obligation (now called medicide) that no- 
body in his or her right mind could sa- 
vor. I explained that what I find most 
satisfying is the prospect of performing 
invaluable experiments or other bene- 
ficial medical acts under conditions that 
this first unpleasant step can help estab- 
Ti: in a word, obitiatry.” 

“Obitiatry,” in Kevorkian's lexicon, 
would be a medical specialty that dealt 
exclusively in positive planned death. Its 
practitioners would staff special suicide 
centers (“obitoriums”), where patients 
would have the option of volunteering 
for experimentation or organ harvesting 
before death. Planning ahead, he has 
dissected the state of Michigan into 14 
obitiatry zones, each to be serviced by its 
ovn suicide center. 

In a 1988 article, The Last Fearsome 
Taboo: Medical Aspects of Planned. Death, 
published in the German journal Medi- 
cine and Law, Kevorkian speculates on 
practicing a new technique for removing. 
a pancreas on a healthy but suicidal 22- 
year-old man who “certifies in writing 
his irrevocable intention of dying." 

Until society is ready to accept such vi- 
sions, however, Kevorkian will have to 


settle for his position as the man with his 
hand on the carbon monoxide valve. 


Dr. Ljubisa Dragovic was bewildered 
when he arrived at the home of Sue 
Williams on May 15, 1992. Williams, 
who had suffered from multiple sclero- 
sis, had died earlier in the day from 
carbon monoxide poisoning. She was 
Kevorkian's fourth assisted suicide. By 
the time Dr. Dragovic, the Oakland 
County, Michigan medical examiner, got 
there, the Kevorkian crew had turned 
the house into its field headquarters. 

“When a death is being investigated, 
the police normally control the scene,” 
Dragovic says. "Here, Fieger was orches- 
trating everything and the police were 
asking questions. When I showed up, he 
said, “Hi, doctor. Want some coffee?’ The 
dead woman was on the floor, and they 
were offering coffee and preparing piz- 
za. Kevorkian was sitting in another 
room flipping the channels on the TV 
set to check on media coverage. It was a 
party atmosphere.” 

Dragovic was at this death scene only 
to advise another medical examiner. But 
you can be sure that if бис Williams’ 
death had been in his caseload, he would 
have classified it as a homicide, as he has 
with every Kevorkian case he's looked at. 
He regards anyone who would write 
“suicide” on the death certificate of a 
Kevorkian client as spineless and dis- 
honest. “The fact that the patients want 
to die doesn’t make these suicides,” he 
says. “Someone else terminates their 
lives. That's why these are homicides.” 
Dragovic argues that if you physically as- 
sist in a suicide, you've killed. 

But it's not the act of homicide that 
arouses Dragovic's ire against Kevor- 
kian; it's that the doctor is so bad at it. 
Dragovic, wearing a bow tie and khaki 
pants, has a teddy-bear look about him. 
But get him talking about Kevorkian's 
procedures, his scientific chops, and 
Dragovic becomes a grizzly. 

“Kevorkian is a dilettante,” he says. 
“He doesn’t understand the basic princi- 
ples of science. Your first and last exam- 
ple is Marjorie Wantz" Wantz was 
Kevorkian's second assisted death; she 
and Sherry Miller, his third assisted 
death, died on the same night in 1991. 
Wantz was a 58-year-old woman who 
claimed to suffer from severe pelvic pain 
that had grown increasingly worse de- 
spite ten operations to relieve it. In her 
videotaped consultation with Kevorkian, 
Wantz insisted on an autopsy after she 
died, to reveal the details of her suffer- 
ing. “I want to be cut ten ways,” she said. 

Dragovic did the autopsy. “There was 
no evidence of a painful disease in her 
body,” he says. “There is no controversy 
about that whatsoever.” 

Kevorkian helped her die despite the 


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143 


PLAYBOY 


fact that her illness, even if real, was not 
terminal. 

Even Derek Humphry, founder of the 
pro-euthanasia Hemlock Society, was ap- 
palled. “That woman was catatonic, she 
was out of it," he said after watching her 
videotaped consultation. "There should 
have been more examination. In four 
years he has helped 20 people to die. 
With legalized euthanasia, there would 
be 3000 or 4000 deaths a year. Say that 
even one of his 20 cases is questionable— 
that doesn't help us at all.” 

The Wantz case isn't the only one to 
raise questions. According to a toxicolo- 
gist who examined the body of Janet Ad- 
kins, the vaunted suicide machine actu- 
ally didn't work as intended. Adkins died 
of an overdose of the barbiturate that 
was supposed to anesthetize her, not 
of the heart-stopping agent that was 
pumped in. 

Even Kevorkian's term, “medicide,” 
gnaws at Dragovic. “Medicide is non- 
sense,” the medical examiner says. 
*Medicide means the killing of a physi- 
cian. It is semantic, but it shows you the 
shallowness of the approach. Unless we 
seek advice from those who are better in- 
formed and have better understanding, 
we are going to be guided by those who 
understand and know less.” 


Geoff Fieger likes to dlaim a certain 
immunity from the material motivations 
of men. "I'm not interested in money,” 
he says. "I don't even care about collect- 
ing the money in the lawsuits I win. All I 
care about is winning." 

Winning, in the Kevorkian case, re- 
quires more of Fieger than mere court- 
room agility. In fact, the courtroom has 
been a secondary forum for Fieger since 
he took over Kevorkian's defense almost 
four years ago. The primary forum is, of 
course, the media, and the primary tac- 
tic is the audacious sound bite. 

“Hell say anything,” says Michael 
Modelski, a former assistant prosecutor 
for Oakland County who tangled with 
Fieger in the early Kevorkian court ap- 
pearances. “He would just make things 
up. If he thought it would make a head- 
line, he would run with it, and he would 
laugh about it afterward.” At one news 
conference, Fieger pinned a large red 
clown's nose on a blown-up photograph 
of Oakland County prosecutor Richard 
Thompson. 

Fieger has said to me—repeatedly, as 
he says most things—that his outra- 
geousness is designed to obscure the 
prickliness of his client. “I know I've won 
when they say, 'Kevorkian is OK, but I 
hate that Fieger.” 

When I stop by Fieger's house for a 
chat on a perfect Good Friday afternoon, 
the attorney is in rare form. We sit on his 
deck, which overlooks a golf course, and 


144 sip lemonade, then wine. It doesn't take 


much to set him off—maybe one men- 
tion of Dragovic. 

"He's a Transylvanian vampire," 
Fieger cries. "He's a fucking lunatic if 
Туе ever seen one. He made up his own 
definition of assisted suicide. Only in 
Oakland County is suicide murder. He 
made it up. We had him on the stand 
during the Sherry Miller and Marjorie. 
Wantz thing. I said, ‘Well, Dr. Dragovic, 
how was this homicide? I thought that 
you just described how they killed them- 
selves. How did someone else murder 
them?" 

“He said, "They died twice." 

“I said, “Very interesting. How did that 
happen?" 

“He said, "They died first by their own 
hands, then by Kevorkian's hand.’ He's а 
fucking lunatic, in his fucking bow tie. 
You can quote me on that, because the 
fucking guy is a vampire.” 

This is clearly a performance, but it's a 
performance that, at times, seems to get 
away from the performer. At one point 
he conjures his own wacky theories of bi- 
ological determinism. “It may be,” he 
says, "that the ones who can accept as- 
sisted suicide are slowly evolving to a 
higher evolutionary plane, where they 
can see that this is an intellectual issuc.” 
Fieger and Kevorkian, in other words, 
are not just right, they're one rung up 
on the evolutionary ladder. 

The Darwin shuck isn't the only 
demonstration Fieger attempts to make 
of the depth of his thought—and his 
soul—this afternoon. At one point I lob 
him the obvious hypothetical: If you 
were terminally ill, would you ask for 
Kevorkian's help? 

"Fuck, who knows?" he says. "I can't 
even imagine it. I can't even compre- 
hend it, and it scares the shit out of me. I 
asked Kevorkian. He's been with people 
when they die. I said, “Tell me, teach me, 
Jack. Teach me. Are they afraid?’ He 
says, "They're 100 percent not afraid." 
He says there's a point in the dying 
process when you want to die more than 
you want to live. We can't imagine it be- 
cause we're not dying.” 

But Fieger says he has it figured out. 
In fact, he can imagine it. "I liken it to 
this,” he says. "Before I ever had an or- 
gasm I was scared to death that some- 
thing bad was going to happen. Once 
you have one, you want to do it again 
and again. But before I'd ever done it, I 
didn't know. I was scared. So I guess no 
one can really understand until they're 
dying how they would want that.” 

‘Trying to swim back to solid ground, I 
ask about Kevorkian's April trial. A year 
ago, only hours after Wayne County 
prosecutor John O'Hair mentioned in a 
radio interview that he didn't have 
enough evidence to charge Kevorkian in 
an assisted suicide, Kevorkian called a 
news conference to clear up any ambigu- 
ity. “I assisted Thomas Hyde in a merci- 
ful suicide,” he said. “There's no doubt 


about that. I state it emphatically.” 

I ask Fieger why they were so eager to 
get Kevorkian arrested on this one. “We 
needed a prosecution,” he says. “You 
need to have a Scopes trial to reveal 
the ridiculousness of William Jennings 
Bryan, don't you? Otherwise, he might 
be considered in history as a great ora- 
tor, but he's gone down as an utter fool.” 

Following this scenario, Fieger would 
be attorney Clarence Darrow, but he bri- 
dles when I suggest that. 

“No!” he says. “Clarence Darrow was 
an old, cigar-smoking, frumpy-looking 
guy. In style I think we're different. But 
I'm just as good a lawyer as he ever was.” 


Last November, Kevorkian and Fieger 
began building toward their day in 
court. First, Kevorkian was jailed when 
he refused to post $2000 of a $20,000 
bond in the assisted suicide of Thomas 
Hyde. Immediately, he began a long- 
threatened juice fast, and just as quickly, 
Fieger began tolling his client’s death 
knell. Kevorkian entered jail on a Friday, 
and on Sunday, Fieger was quoted as 
saying, “We don't have much time. I 
don't think that Jack has long to live. 
He's not doing well. He's very haggard, 
very cold.” 

A couple of days later, John DeMoss, a 
lawyer who opposes assisted suicide, 
posted Kevorkian's bail just to get him 
off the TV screen. 

Then, in December, Kevorkian was 
back in jail in connection with the assist- 
ed suicide of Merian Frederick, and 
again he began to fast. This time nobody 
stepped in, and the nation was treated to 
regular televised images of the hunger 
striker huddled under a blanket in a 
wheelchair, his wan face obscured by 
gray stubble. 

“He was really angry that I got him 
out,” says Fieger, who had the bond low- 
ered to $100. “He heard Gandhi had 
fasted for three weeks, and he got to do 
it for only 18 days.” 

This blindered belief in their own 
place in history is what drives Kevorkian 
and Fieger in their crusade. "He's not 
infallible, he’s not God,” Fieger says. 
“He just happens to be absolutely right.” 

It’s a powerful certitude, particularly 
when coupled with the team’s emotion- 
ally appealing message, as stated by 
Fieger: “If you're sick and dying and suf- 
fering, and you say "Enough's enough, 
you have the right to get out. I mean, 
that's pretty logical.” 

The subject becomes complicated, 
though, when you add the twist that we 
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Law School. Kamisar believes that the le- 
gal distinction should be maintained be- 
tween removing life supports and active- 
ly helping someone die. "Once you 
establish the right to actively choose to 
die, then any time a person says, ‘I'm 
suffering enough,’ you can't say, ‘Well, 
that doesn't meet my standard of suffer- 
ing.’ There really is no stopping point.” 

Other people have more practical con- 
cerns about legalizing assisted suicide. 
“Let's get universal access to health care, 
and train doctors in pain management. 
Let's train the public that they have a 
right to refuse treatment and to partici- 
pate in decision making,” says Dr. John 
Finn, the medical director of the Hos- 
pice of Southeastern Michigan, which 
works with terminally ill patients to pro- 
vide a “soft” death through pain media- 
tion, counseling and other services. “To 
legalize physician-assisted suicide and 
not do all those other things is a nonso- 
lution. We have to start by dealing with 
the real problems.” 

Earlier this year, Verna Spayth, a polio 
survivor, led a group of 15 disabled- 
rights activists in a protest before Michi- 
gan's Commission on Death and Dying, 
which was established in 1993—at the 
same time a law prohibiting assisted sui- 
cide was enacted. The activists objected 
to a proposal by the commission to legal- 
ize assisted suicide not only for the ter- 
minally ill but also for those with incur- 
able or irreversible conditions that cause 
suffering. “That's not terminal illness 
anymore,” says Spayth. "That's me and 
my friends.” Spayth's main concern is 
the subtle societal coercion of people 
who are already vulnerable. “If you told 
your doctor that you wanted to commit 
suicide, he'd send you to a psychiatrist,” 
she says. “If I said the same thing, he 
might congratulate me on making such a 
selfless decision.” 


Throughout his trial in April, Ke- 
vorkian seemed to know something no 
one else did. While Fieger and assistant 
prosecutor Tim Kenny sparred, while a 
procession of witnesses testified to the 
psychological agony of dying with Lou 
Gehrig's disease (a common cause of 
death is strangulation on saliva) and 
while the Court TV commentators spec- 
ulated on what the jury might decide, 
Kevorkian sat placidly at the defense 
table, studying Japanese. 

By the time the jury returned with its 
verdict—afier five days of testimony and 
nine hours of deliberation—Kevorkian 
had put aside his exercise in self-im- 
provement. But he looked preternatu- 
rally confident as he sat waiting, dressed 
casually in the same white windbreaker 
he had worn throughout the trial, over a 
maroon cardigan and no tie. In fact, he 


146 looked almost smug. 


His loose smile didn’t change when 
the verdict was announced: not guilty. 

It was a clear victory for Kevorkian 
and his team. But because of Fieger's de- 
fense tactics, it wasn't quite the resound- 
ing verdict on the issues of assisted sui- 
cide and personal freedom that Fieger 
had promised when he touted the case 
as “the Scopes trial of the Nineties” and 
“the trial of the century.” Fieger forced 
the trial to go ahead when both the 
judge and the prosecutor would have 
preferred to wait for an appeals court 
ruling on the constitutionality of Michi- 
gan's law banning assisted suicide. In 
spite of all this buildup, Fieger went on 
to use loopholes and technicalities to de- 
fend Kevorkian, rather than ask the jury 
to acquit his client because he’d been 
charged under an immoral law, or be- 
cause he represented civil rights in their 
purest form, 

First, he dropped the bombshell that 
the suicide had actually occurred in 
Kevorkian's van while it was parked be- 
hind his apartment in Oakland Coun- 
ty—not on an island in Wayne County 
where the body was found. The case, he 
said, was being tried in the wrong coun- 
ty and should therefore be dismissed. 

Then he turned to semantics. One 
subsection of Michigan's law banning as- 
sisted suicide exempts anyone who is 
“administering medications or proce- 
dures, if the intent is to relieve pain or 
discomfort and not cause death, even if 
the medication or procedure may hasten 
the risk of death.” Fieger, in a brilliant 
display of chutzpah and persuasion, con- 
vinced the jury that, in strapping Hyde 
to the canister of carbon monoxide, 
Kevorkian's intent was not to cause 
death but to relieve pain. (It may have 
convinced the jury, but it wouldn't con- 
vince the appeals court. Eight days after 
the verdict, the panel of judges declared 
the assisted-suicide ban unconstitutional 
on narrow, technical grounds. The high 
court then backhanded Kevorkian by re- 
instating murder charges against him in 
the deaths of Marjorie Wantz and Sher- 
ry Miller. Immediately, Fieger and the 
prosecutors were at it again.) 

The strategic maneuvering ultimately 
overshadowed some of the quieter, more 
intriguing moments of the trial. One 
of the most interesting exchanges, for 
instance, was buried in the middle 
of Kevorkian's testimony, when Fieger 
asked him about the motivation behind 
his death-related research and experi- 
mentation. “Maybe it’s the boy in me,” 
Kevorkian responded. “In a way, 1 
haven't grown up. I'm curious, and new 
things interest me. And like a young 
boy—taboos really challenge me.” 


My favorite of the paintings is the 
Christmas deconstruction. It shows an 


emaciated body, its hands and feet with- 
ered, standing dejected in a dark room, 
swathed in twisting vines of red and 
green garland. An ornament hangs from 
a fingertip. Two wrapped presents occu- 
py the foreground. To the right of the 
“tree,” the black-booted leg of Santa 
Claus descends through a fireplace and 
crushes a baby in a manger. 

The painting, titled Fa-La-La-La-La, 
La-La, La, La, was a Jack Kevorkian 
original, and was quite adeptly ren- 
dered, at least in the snapshot I've seen 
of it. It apparently no longer exists, 
though—lost, along with 17 other paint- 
ings, in transit from California to Michi- 
gan in 1990. But Kevorkian is working 
to re-create two of the lost paintings— 
not, unfortunately, the Christmas scene, 
nor another painting called Genocide, 
which was adorned with a frame daubed 
with Kevorkian’s blood. 

The re-creation that is sure to cause 
the greatest stir is of a lost painting that 
was called The Gourmet. It depicts a yel- 
low, decapitated body seated with serv- 
ing fork and carving knife before a 
feast—its own head, stuffed with an ap- 
ple, on a silver platter. Side dishes deco- 
rate the table: a helmet filled with bul- 
lets, a bowl of crosses. The salt and 
pepper shakers are mortar shells. 

Fieger plans to auction Kevorkian's 
artwork. He said he expects the pieces to 
fetch $100,000 each, which would fund 
the campaign to amend Michigan's con- 
stitution. The amendment, if it makes 
the ballot and passes, will read as follows: 
“The right of competent adults who are 
incapacitated by incurable medical con- 
ditions to voluntarily request and receive 
medical assistance with respect to 
whether or not their I continue shall 
not be restrained or abridged.” 

Its stark language bothers Derek 
i -ended euthanasia 

full of risks,” he says. “No condi- 
tions, no waiting periods. Any doctor can 
help any incurably sick person anytime 
at any place. The thinking people in our 
movement are appalled by it. If you have 
Kevorkian's type of euthanasia, it will be 
a slippery slope. Kevorkian's is a recipe 
for skiing down a glacier.” 

Ironically, though, the amendment 
would seem to put Kevorkian himself 
out of the suicide business; his Michigan 
medical license was revoked in late 1991, 
after his second and third assisted sui- 
cides. When I asked Fieger about it, he 
didn't seem too concerned. “How could 
the father of assisted suicide not be al- 
lowed to do it?” he said. 

I asked him why he hadn't tried to get 
Kevorkian's license reinstated. 

“I will,” he said. “It's not my most im- 
portant goal right now. I mean, it hasn't 
stopped him, has it?” 


AATU WAY 
HOLY WAR 

(continued from page 66) 
plaster-spattered construction boots, 
Nike hightops, worn-out wing tips, the 
black, thick-soled shoes of civil servants. 
Among the crowd of émigrés are many 
African Americans, mostly young men 
with knitted skullcaps or baseball hats 
turned backward. 

The imam, or clerical leader of the 
mosque, wears a brown robe and stands 
at a lectern reciting the teachings of the 
Koran. “Imagine if you are out on a 
dark, windy night, and there is thun- 
der,” says Nidal Abuasi, a director of the 
mosque who is translating the imam's 
Arabic to English. “The hypocrites put 
their hands to their ears so they don't 
hear the thunder. They live in fear. But 
the believers understand the storm.” 

As the imam speaks, sirens wail on the 
street below. There is the clatter of street 
merchants and the braying of car 
horns—the sounds of the storm from 
which they seek shelter. It is an insular 
community, seeking a deeper faith that 
will guide it through the godless, materi- 
alistic canyons of New York City. 

Many of the worshipers—young men 
from Algeria, Yemen, Egypt, the West 
Bank and Jordan—gather in the hall- 
ways after the service. They banter about 
job openings at cab companies and con- 
struction sites, and share information on 
cheap apartments and used cars, There 
is heated debate about the Middle East 
peace plan and the revolutionary move- 
ments toward Islamic fundamentalism 
in Algeria and the Sudan. 

Ahmed, 30, who arrived from Yemen 
ten months ago, has just landed a job as 
a doorman at an apartment building in 
Manhattan. He has brought his wife and 
seven children to Brooklyn but, like 
most of the immigrants, he dreams of re- 
turning home. 

“You see the life here where people 
have two dogs and two cars. They pay 
more for their dogs than people in my 
country can pay to support their chil- 
dren,” he says. “Americans do not know 
the world. They are educated, but they 
are ignorant.” 

Ezzat El Sheemy, who emigrated from 
Egypt 15 years ago, is an accountant for 
the city government and a leader in the 
Muslim community. In the past few 
years, he has been caught up in a battle 
with the militant new arrivals for control 
of Brooklyn's largest mosques. 

‘The younger militants do not share El 
Sheemy's goals or values. “They are still 
living in the Middle East,” he says, “and 
they are more passionate about what is 
happening there. Many sce religion as a 
vehicle to express their rage. That is 
wrong, that is not Islam.” 

The battle is in many ways a micro- 
cosm of the worldwide struggle within 
Islam, pitting moderate Muslims in fa- 
vor of secular law against militant funda- 


mentalists. In Brooklyn, the battle began 
when Sheikh Omar Abdel Rahman ar- 
rived in the U.S. on a visa from the Su- 
dan in May 1990. 

In his homeland, Abdel Rahman had 
a reputation as a popular and respected 
theologian. He had also been charged by 
Egyptian authorities with giving reli- 
gious sanction to the 1981 assassination 
of Anwar Sadat. He was later acquitted. 
By the mid-Eighties he had become an 
important spiritual leader among the in- 
ternational brigades that supported the 
mujahideen, the CIA-backed freedom 
fighters in Afghanistan. 

By 1991 these same militant Mus- 
lims—including Mahmud Abouhalima 
and other defendants in the World 
Trade Center bombing and the forth- 
coming conspiracy case—became en- 
raged by U.S. involvement in the Gulf 
War and turned their anger against their 
former American allies. 

Despite his history of involvement 
with violent fringe groups, Rahman was 
welcomed at the Abu Bakr Siddique and 
Al Farooq mosques when he arrived in 
Brooklyn. Moderates such as Ezzat El 
Sheemy were taken aback by Rahman's 
fiery sermons about the evils of America 
and his talk of a holy war involving all 
Muslims in the U.S. The threats were 
vague, but to the young militant immi- 
grants who were still living the passions 
of the Middle East, they were a stirring 
call to action. 

Eventually Rahman was barred from 
the pulpit at Al Farooq. But at Abu Bakr 
Siddique a coterie of fundamentalists 
flocked to him. Rahman and Abouhali- 
ma took control of the mosque. The fun- 
damentalists also insinuated themselves 
into the Alkifah Refugee Center in 
Brooklyn, an organization that raised 
millions of dollars to aid refugees and 
help fund the rebels in Afghanistan. 
Worshipers said the radicals even took 
over the mosque's school, teaching stu- 
dents the theology of jihad, the battle cry 
for holy war against the enemics of Is- 
lam. It was a remarkable change for the 
mosque, which for more than 20 years 
had offered spiritual guidance and social 
services for immigrants adjusting to 
Western ways. 

Members say that as Sheikh Rahman’s 
power grew, he sought control of the 
fund-raising apparatus of Alkifah Refu- 
gee Center and the mosques. Many in 
the community say privately that Rah- 
man tried to turn his followers against 
Alkifah director Mustafa Shalabi. Appar- 
ently Shalabi believed that he was in 
danger and sent his wife and children 
back to Egypt in the fall of 1992. Three 
days after their departure, Shalabi was 
found knifed and shot to death in his 
apartment. Members of Abu Bakr 
dique say that the radicals played on the 
notoriety from the murder to bolster 
their strength in the community. 

Ezzat El Sheemy says that he was 


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148 


threatened when he tried to fight against 
the militancy taking hold in Abu Bakr's 
school, which his children attended 
“They told me to do what they said or 
I'd end up like Mustafa Shalabi,” says El 
Sheemy. 

“Two years ago, the mosque's annual 
election was marred by shouting match- 
es and a fistfight so violent that the po- 
lice had to be called in. 

“The violence in the mosque is very 
sad to most Muslims,” sighs El Sheemy. 
“But our people are from the Middle 
East. Unfortunately, they do not have 
experience with democracy. The young 
people are very militant. There was no 
way to stop them.” 

Some of the young militants gather at 
the Fertile Crescent Grocery on Atlantic 
Avenue. The aisles are stacked with box- 
es of sugar-coated pastries and rows of 
nutsand dried fruits. A butcher cuts meat 
prepared in accordance with halal. There 
are bumper stickers that say I w ISLAM 
and stacks of videos of Islamic theolo- 
gians and militant leaders with such ti- 
tles as Should Rushdie Die? and Israel: Set 
Up for Destruction. 

A video called Revolution of the Mosques 
was playing on a television in the corner 
of the Fertile Crescent, watched by a 
knot of sullen young men, their arms 
folded across their chests. On-screen, a 
leader of the Palestinian group Hamas, 
which has claimed responsibility for car 
bombings and other terrorist attacks in 


Israel, pounds his fist in rage. While 
the video's narrator rails against Israel, 
pictures flash on the screen of West 
Bank teenagers throwing rocks and Mo- 
lotoy cocktails at Israeli soldiers. A 
phone number is given with a plea 
for donations. 

“I have many customers who are with 
Hamas, but I have many suppliers who 
are Orthodox Jews,” says Hamed Nab- 
wy, owner of the Fertile Crescent. 
“That's the difference between Brooklyn 
and the West Bank. Here business is first 
and religion is second. There, religion is 
first and everything else is second.” 

Nabwy came to the U.S. in 1980 from 
Egypt, where he received a college de- 
gree in accounting. He found work as a 
dishwasher and has since built a small 
empire that includes his grocery, a car 
service and a new restaurant next door. 

To many of the young people who 
come into his store after services at the 
nearby Al Farooq mosque, Nabwy is a 
role model. They revere him as a man 
who made it but who never slighted his 
faith or his fierce political beliefs. His 
anger surfaces as he talks about the 
slaughter of Muslims in Bosnia, and 
about overthrowing what he thinks of as 
the corrupt Egyptian government. 

“The young people coming here see 
this country as corrupt, as fallen,” he 
says. “They become more religious when 
they arrive, and more political.” 

He points to a collection of militant 


f ^ 
y 


“Did you know your pecker goes up and 
down when you read?” 


videos, cassettes, articles and pamphlets 
on Jewish control of American media, 
politics and foreign policy. “These books 
are banned in their country, but here the 
young people see the truth,” says Nabwy. 
“Does that make them militant? What do 
you think?” 


Last March, a van packed with more 
than a dozen rabbinical students was ap- 
proaching the Brooklyn Bridge, where 
dramatic views of the city’s shimmering 
towers, the bay and the sky all come to- 
gether. It is one of the city's great vistas. 
Henceforth, it will also carry the unfor- 
tunate image of the gunfire that brought 
death and bloodshed to the passengers 
in the van. After the first round of bul- 
lets, the driver of a blue Caprice main- 
tained his pursuit while the van ca- 
reened across the bridge. Two more 
bursts of gunfire from the Caprice 
ripped through the van, leaving the as- 
phalt sparkling with shattered glass. 

Hours later, two Lubavitchers used 
white towels to wipe up the victims’ 
blood, adhering to the ancient tenets of 
religious law which require that the 
blood of a Jew killed by violence be col- 
lected and buried with the deceased. In 
all, four young men had been wounded, 
and one of them, 16-year-old Aaron Hal- 
berstam, died several days later. 

The students in the van were mem- 
bers of the Lubavitcher Hasidic commu- 
nity of Crown Heights, home of Grand 
Rebbe Menachem Schneerson, whom 
the Lubavitchers believe to be their Mes- 
siah. They were returning from a Man- 
hattan hospital where they had been 
praying for Schneerson, who had under- 
gone surgery after a stroke. 

The day after the shooting, police ar- 
rested 28-ycar-old Rashid Baz, a Brook- 
lyn cabdriver who emigrated from 
Lebanon in 1984. Immediately, the 
shooting was interpreted by many Jews 
as retaliation for the massacre at He- 
bron. Police, however, have been reluc- 
tant to assign a motive. 

The manager of Fourth Avenue Pizza 
in Brooklyn calls himself Baz’ “only 
friend in the world.” Baz used to come 
into his shop nearly every day to have 
coffee and discuss Middle East politics 
and life in America. 

“Yes, he was talking about the shoot- 
ing in Hebron,” says Oscar, who refused 
to give his last name. “Every Muslim was 
hurt and angry. But he was no angrier 
than anyone else I know. The truth is, he 
was not a follower of Islam. He did not 
really know how to pray. And, if he did 
this shooting, he definitely did not un- 
derstand Islam. Islam is about peace, not 
violence, not killing innocent people.” 

The Lubavitchers didn't need a police 
report to know that once again the vio- 
lence of the Middle East was turning 
back toward Brooklyn. "What happened 
at Hebron may as well have happened 


next door,” says Joseph Printsky, 68, a 
butcher who prepares kosher meats and 
poultry. “The world is so small now with 
faxes and telephones and satellites. All 
the news is instantaneous, so the reper- 
cussions are also instantaneous.” 

Among other Orthodox communities 
there isa growing number of hard-liners 
who sec the peace plan as a threat to the 
state of Israel. Many Jews, like their 
Muslim counterparts down the street, 
feel that there will be more violence, 
here and in the Middle East, over the Is- 
raeli-PLO proposal calling for Palestin- 
ian self-rule in Gaza and the West Bank. 

“You have to look at how the shooting 
in Hebron and the [alleged] shooting by 
this man Baz are related and come back 
to Brooklyn,” says Dr. МЛ: Mehdi, pres- 
ident of the New York-based Arab 
American Relation Committee. “Gold- 
stein came from Brooklyn and felt he 
had the right to go to the West Bank and 
take the land. To go to the mosque and 
shoot those innocent people as a mes- 
sage was horrifying. So the question is, 
do the Arabs have the right to resist that? 
I believe they do. It was just a question of 
time before an Arab snapped over what 
happened in Hebron. And this time it 
was just a nobody, a cabdriver from 
Brooklyn, who will be known only for his 
violence.” 

The reaction against the nascent 
peace movement in the Middle East has 


been extreme among conservative Jews. 
In the past six months, the Lubavitcher 
world headquarters in Brooklyn has 
spent millions of dollars to deliver the 
message that Israel is in danger. With 
their ability to provide 200 buses and 
turn out some 100,000 activists instantly 
on any given day, the Lubavitchers have 
played a key role in shifting public opin- 
ion against the peace plan in Israel and, 
to some extent, in America as well. Says 
Ben Kaspit, the New York correspon- 
dent for Ma'ariv, a major Israeli newspa- 
per: “The Lubavitchers are very right- 
wing and they are loaded with money." 

Kaspit sees Kahane Chai as an ex- 
tremist group on the far right edge of an 
increasingly conservative American Jew- 
гу. This broader political realignment 
began in Brooklyn, says Kaspit, where 
the majority of America's militant Jews 
reside. In Brooklyn, he says, there are 
children of Holocaust survivors, and of 
those who fell victim to it. “The second 
generation is aware of that history and is 
very militant, maybe even a little unbal- 
anced that way," he adds. 

Driven by a history that haunts them, 
many of these Brooklyn-born men and 
women in their 30s and 40s have gone to 
settlements near. Hebron, where Gold- 
stein lived. "There are a lot of thick 
Brooklyn accents in the settlements," 
says Kaspit. “Guys with the beards and 


crazy eyes stood alongside Goldstein. 
There are many who see himas a hero.” 

Others aren't so sure, Ron Kuby, of 
William Kunstler's law firm, does not be- 
lieve what he calls “the hype” that ter- 
rorism—whether Arab or Jewish—is 
coming to American shores. He sees it as 
a way for America to define a new “ene- 
my within.” And he believes that Brook- 
lyn, which survives and thrives on the 
chaos of so many different nationalities, 
is in its own way a remarkable homage to 
peaceful coexistence. 

“Brooklyn is amazing,” says Kuby, sit- 
ting in his law office in the basement of a 
Greenwich Village brownstone. “You 
cross the bridge and you're transplanted 
to 18th century Poland on one street, 
and a few blocks down you're in 17th 
century Yemen. But I disagree that 
Brooklyn has the same violence as the 
Middle East.” 

“The most militant Jews in Borough 
Park and the most militant Arabs along 
Atlantic Avenue hate each other, and 
their colleagues are slaughtering each 
other halfway around the world. But 
here they can live within a few blocks 
and basically get along. The Middle East 
is too small for these two groups of peo- 
ple, but so far hundreds of thousands of 
them have found a way to survive and 
coexist in Brooklyn. Not bad, right?” 


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(continued from page 120) 


"Sex is out there—in Gennie's case, sex in a field, at a 
keg party. But it is spiked with anxiety and tears.” 


wanted to know what it w. e to grow 
up in a place where casual sex, or any 
sex, could seem so dangerous—a world 
in which 16-year-olds could discourse 
knowledgeably on rape, abortion or 
emergent sexually transmitted diseases. 
But after the initial impassioned rants 
(on bad boys, bad drugs and bad abor- 
tions), the conclusions, circa 1988, were 
surprisingly calm: You're young. Have 
fun. It won't get to you. 

Asking the same questions recently, 1 
found few New York-area girls who 
were calm about anything. There were 
45 this ic—the daughters of friends; 
neighbors; girls I had interviewed for 
previous stories—and, for balance, ten 
guys. They met me at restaurants in 
groups and went to the bathroom in 
pairs. They smoked a great deal and 
drank cappuccino (with chocolate) as 
they explained that 1988 seems like the 
deep, oddly innocent past. “Herpes is 


kind of corny,” explains one 16-year-old 
girl. “I mean, as a thing to worry about.” 
Denial these days is for the very stoned 
or else the hugely conceited. Leaning 
across the restaurant table, the girls 
would state that “the whole sex thing” 
now can and will get to you. “You know 
the deal: no lying. It’s your honeymoon 
or your funeral,” says one NYU girl as 
she casually scoops guacamole with her 
fingers. 

For girls in New York—or girls any- 
where these days—AIDS is no longer a 
horror story that happened to some 
guy's roommate's brother. It is officially 
there in life, a malevolent and perma- 
nent presence, as one 16-year-old says, 
“like Bosnia.” In 1988 I found many 15- 
year-olds who had had sex and felt OK 
about it. Today's 15-year-olds have re- 
ceived basic AIDS education by the sev- 
enth grade. By the eighth grade, they 
have written papers with titles such as 


“Junk food, fellas, lots and lots of junk food.” 


AIDS and Its Impact on West Africa. By 
tenth, at least, they will have made some 
personal connection to the disease: “Like 
this one speaker was going over symp- 
toms,” says Gennie Germaine, 17, of 
Dobbs Ferry, New York. “And I sat next 
to my friend and we were, like, Oh my 
God! It was at the time I found out I was 
lactose intolerant. One of the symptoms 
was diarrhea. I freaked.” 

And if the guys feigned a certain cool, 

few got through the mandatory AIDS 
lectures unscathed. “Like, at first, when 
you're 12, you're, like, Oh, this is 
dale. Who gets AIDS in Scarsdale?” says 
17-year-old Michael Hewitt, a virgin who 
lives in the affluent New York City sub- 
urb. “By ninth, it was, Oh shit. You're 
for some girl?” 
AIDS was not unknown in 
1988. Most kids had seen the random 
PBS documentary. Some had dutifully 
fitted condoms on bananas in health 
class. But sex education, in school or at 
home, emphasized pregnancy, birth con- 
trol and “real, relevant topics” such as 
syphilis. For teenagers, AIDS was the 
weird gay thing that killed Rock Hud- 
son. It was not, as Tonya Sharazz, 15, of 
Brooklyn, explains, “so published like it 
is now. I have an older friend who died 
of AIDS. And he was mad at the system. 
He was not educated like we are now. 
Like, we have Philadelphia.” 

Back then, says Erin O Rourke, a ju- 
nior at Caldwell College in Caldwell, 
New Jersey, “you had that false hope 
You're not gay. You're 17. There's time.” 

Now 20 or 21, many of these girls 
seem permanently nervous—stuck with 
what one 19-year-old calls "the red 
black dot in the brain,” the fear “at the 
back of consciousness” that can expand 
at any moment into å mushroom cloud 
On June 6, 1989, I had unprotected sex 
If younger girls seem to recite from a 
safe-sex manifesto. slightly older ones 
might confess that the boy was “like, 22” 
and how “proud” she was that he liked 
her. He said he'd had only two partners. 
But he lied. Or did steroids, got a tattoo, 
came close to needles or acted out as an 
abusive guy or an arrogant DJ or musi- 
cian who signed “a multimillion-dollar 
deal in Santa Fe” and disappeared. 

It's common to hear 17-ycar-olds such 
as Gennie say in all seriousness, “I have 
changed my lifestyle since I was 15.” 

Sex is out there, of course—in Gen- 
nie’s case, sex in a field, at a keg party 
Butit is spiked with anxiety and tears, or 
at least with the passion-killing dynamics 
of "the conversation”: Who, precisely, 
have you slept with? Why didn’t you get 
latex? And, yes, there is a five percent 
chance of transmission through oral sex, 
meaning you must wear a condom for a 
blow job. 

“Ir used to be you worried about your 
emotional well-being,” says Sarah ‘Tesh, 
a sophomore at the Dalton School in 
Manhattan, She smooths her hair like 


a bonnet or shield around her face as 
she says, “Бо you love him? Will he 
respect you?” 

Kelly Ann Ryan, who grew up on 
Long Island and now studies art in New 
York City, laughs when she tries to 
picture something so sweet. “In the Sev- 
enties and Eighties, I guessthe worst was 
that you got left in the morning. He 
thought your name was Karen, but it’s 
Joanne. So you cry and go have coffee 
bur you're not going to get purple le- 
sions all over you, have your lungs col- 
lapse, get pneumonia and die.” 

Even when speaking casually about 
sex, the average middle-class teen can 
sound apocalyptic. “Scary as shit” drugs 
are everywhere, they'll say. “Scary as 
shit” people—bisexual people—now ex- 
ist, one girl told me, “in eighth grade.” 
Talk to one of these girls for a while and 
she'll start to sound like a character in a 
Fifties science fiction film who, unlike 
others in town, sees the truth. 

“Where I'm from, in Florida, I swear 
to you, everyone had sex with every- 
one,” says Jennifer Sylvester, an NYU 
girl who—in “a terrible accident”—had 
dyed half her hair plus her fingertips 
pink. “And I swear to you, like, if some- 
one gets AIDS, we all get it. All of us! 
Dead. We have to wake up. Because 
we're going to go away from home. Col- 
lege? It's going to get worse.” 

No one likes to say it. It seems so un- 
fair. But leaving home, going out into 
the world, has come to seem much as it 
did before 1960: a big, scary risk for a 
girl or at least an enterprise filled with 
depressing questions: How can you trust 
any guy with your life? Will you ever, to 
quote one college freshman, “get into 
bodily fluids"? Or will you live forever 
with restrictions unwittingly summa- 
zed by 18-year-old Francine Lister? 
perfectly natural to be nude, to 
share the sexual experience,” she says. 
“But you can't have sex just because you 
feel sexual.” 


It's true, of course, that all sexually 
active adults now confront the same is- 
sues. But those issues are far more com- 
plex for a 17-year-old. In the healthiest 
of times, young sex can be an uncertain, 
often neurotic, activity. It unfolds against 
the backdrop of high school or college, 
that era of rigid caste systems and silent 
punishments—in general, all the preju- 
dices common to small landlocked coun- 
tries in eastern Europe. Whether hand- 
ed down “from society, maybe from your 
mother” or from “old religious days"— 
or from those forces known as “the me- 
dia and TV”—there are rules. 

Rule one: You are expected to fuck 
within the perimeters of your group. 
Two: You are expected to do so accord- 
ing to the usual guidelines. One way if 
you're male, another if you're female. 

Guys (ask any girl) are encouraged to 


score. "Anything," says one of the girls 
from NYU. “Cow butt? Hell take it.” 
They are permitted outbursts of male 
myopia. As Sarah Tesh says, "Let's say 
that what he sees is between her shoul- 
ders and waist.” In short, guys are still 
applauded for getting into and out of as 
many girls as possible with minimal eye 
contact. 

Talk longer than five minutes to a 
guy—go beyond the rote “Yes, I believe 
girls are equal” declaration—and he'll 
confirm that it’s different for girls. Carl 
Mosher, a tall, ponytailed senior at 
Riverhead High School in New York, is 
one of a handful of Long Island guys 
I met one afternoon. Carl makes the 
point: "Girls should really be older when 
they have sex. Guys should do it in high 
school and college. Girls shouldn't. Guys 
like a girl who'll give it up. But what do 
they really want?" He looks down at his 
immense, untied running shoe as if the 
answer were written there on the side. 
"The pure girl." 

This much has not changed, not 
1976, when I left high school, nor since 
1958, when my mother did: A girl must 
protect not only her body—her future— 
but her rep. “No matter how good the 
girl,” says Ginger Friedman, the only 
virgin among the NYU crew, "it's always 
‘Oh my God, did you see her? She was 
all over him.” She's loose, you'll hear, 
“wild as shit.” Even if the wild and loose 
girl has her problems—"a fucked-up 
family thing," perhaps—it's still true that 
sluts are just sluts. 

"Today's slut seems remarkably similar 
to yesterday's. She sleeps with a variety 
of boys, none of whom is her boyfriend. 
She has sex in unappcaling places, such 
asthe bushes. And usually while wearing 
a dress the size of a washcloth. 

“1 guess it's just images we form of 
people. Words we learn," says Sarah 
Tesh. She shakes her head. Her hair 
doesn't move. 

"Ho is one of the words," says Sandi 
Rattner, Tesh's best friend. "And you 
learn that a guy is never a ho." 

Many girls attempt to point out that 
this double standard seems at odds with 
their historical epoch. "We just grew up. 
all sex and drugs and rock and roll," says 
Joanne Gephart, born in 1978 in Hast- 
ings-on-Hudson, New York. More accu- 
rately, they grew up with sex, drugs and 
rock and roll as cultural institutions. 
For decades, alcohol and recreational 
drugs pot, coke, acid, and more re- 
cently, ecstasy—have been as common 
among kids as varsity football and the 
prom. There'sa long tradition of getting 
wasted—or at least repeatedly buzzed— 
on the weekends and, in some bored cas- 
єз, "baked" during the school day itself. 
Most girls profess to love imported beer 
and white wine. They love cigarettes and 
pot, though someone is typically swear- 
ing she's been “smoke free" one week, 
six days, five hours. And if she is not part 


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152 


of the nationwide acid revival, she has 
done ecstasy, the “full body” drug that 
сап serve as a sexual substitute. 

If it is possible for teenagers to avoid 
what parents still embarrassingly refer to 
as the drug scene, no one older than 12 
avoids the public obsession with sex. 
“Growing up, you got that double mes- 
sage,” says Jenett Cohen, an NYU girl 
who's been piling her hair into a wispy 
beehive. “It was dirty, but it was appeal- 
ing. It was just there, in magazines, on 
MTV. That's what everyone talks about. 
Even parents do.” 

Many girls say they have a parent who 
is “totally cool” on the subject—an older 
mother who overcame “Fifties sexual re- 
pressiveness,” or a countercultural mom 
who liked the Grateful Dead, appreciat- 
ed the pill and wants to share both with 
her daughter. For those who have more 
tradition-bound parents, there were old- 
er siblings and, of course, the TV, which 
seems to have been on constantly. 

“It was, like, you witnessed all this stuff 
on soap operas,” says Francine Lister, 
who grew up on Long Island. “That was 
the background when you were eight 
years old: Who was jumping into and 
out of bed with who?” When the soaps 
ended, there were the talk shows and, 
later at night, made-for-cable TV movies 
that featured, as one boy says, “sex more 
than acting or scenery.” 

By the time most of these girls were 
12, sex had become a public freak show, 


a surreal parade of battered women, 
Spur Posse cretins and the ubiquitous 
15-year-old incest survivor and mother 
of twins. “Like, now we have sex harass- 
ment,” says Germaine. “Once, after a 
football game, we were on a bus for 
cheerleaders and players and some guys 
started chanting, ‘Show us your tits.’ 
Some of us were shocked. Some yelled, 
‘Show us your dick.’ After, there were 
fights. Charges were brought.” She 
yawns. “There was a sexual sensitivity 
class.” 

“We are very aware of the harassment- 
and-date-rape situation,” states Fried- 
man. “More than our mothers, like, we 
know that guys manipulate words and 
everyone is drunk. You combine that 
with, like, where has this guy been? 
What kind of drugs? And you can't ever 
really know anybody. They don't know 
you. So, you know all that, why go back 
with him?” 

. 


These girls may know more about the 
bad probabilities than any nonmedical 
personnel on earth. Of all the high 
schools in the U.S., 93 percent offer 
courses in sexuality and AIDS. Many of 
their graduates can recite the ominous 
data. In 1987, there were 127 reported 
cases of AIDS in the U.S. among kids 
younger than 19, and four years later, 
789. Thats compared with 1145 last 


"I don't want to be bothered today, Miss Stone, unless 
it has something to do with sex.” 


year in kids aged 13 to 19, and among 
those 20 to 24 years old, there were an 
alarming 12,712 cases. But for all the 
panic about AIDS, most girls still don't 
know anyone who has the disease. For 
them, there are more immediately 
threatening statistics: More than I mil- 
lion girls between the ages of 15 and 19 
get pregnant cach year, and some 3 mil- 
lion kids suffer from syphilis and oth- 
er STDs. 

It is not surprising, therefore, to hear 
a young woman say she gets “a massive 
body headache” just thinking about the 
sex act. Some say they'll wait for college. 
Others threaten to quit until they meet 
someone who's older, trustworthy and 
tested. If this guy fails to show, many say 
they'll marry “someone decent” at 25. 
Until then, determined virgins, whether 
the actual or born-again variety, support 
their decision with spirited platitudes. 
They are waiting to give themselves to 
“the right one.” Or to “experience trust- 
ing, intimate joy with someone commit- 
ted.” Sometimes, like cheerleaders try- 
ing to perk up team spirit, they engage 
in a kind of virgin bonding. 

“They called us the V-crowd,” says 
Kelly Ann Ryan. “There were 11 of us 
and we stayed together, virgins, for all of 
high school. We got all the attention. 
Every guy was, like, Oh, we've got to get 
the V-crowd! Yeah, we were curious. 
‘Tempted. We fooled around, but we 
drew the line at intercourse.” 

Most girls will admit, however, that it 
gets harder and harder to draw the 
line—to control what Ryan calls that 
“unbelievable ‘go’ feeling.” Nervous, 
guilty V-girls would call me at ten p.m. 
and say: “Don't tell anyone that I'm 
telling you this,” or, “He said it was OK 
for oral sex this time.” Cohen is more di- 
rect: “We're young. We want to do it. 
And there is this kind of pressure.” 

Eventually, the point is, you just do it. 
Or plan to. Or plan to plan. 

Of course, the setting has to be right. 
This could mean a dorm room or a fi 
nished basement with a wide-screen TV, 
or a conveniently empty parental bed- 
room. In an emergency, there is the car: 
And it is conceded that even a “nice” girl 
might, in a stable relationship situation, 
consider the beach. 

Then there's the matter of contracep- 
tion or what is now universally known as 
“protection.” One recent study by the 
Centers for Disease Control indicates 
that 55 percent of all sexually active high 
school students did not use condoms the 
last time they had sex. But it's a rare 
high school student who will admit to it. 
They know the stats so well they sound 
like bumper stickers. And guys know 
that educated girls won't say yes unless 
they show up prepared, as one 16-year- 
old puts it, “like fucking Boy Scouts." 

The girls will tell you, without actually 
saying so, that this arrangement—guys 
being responsible—suits them fine. Even 


at the age of 17, many seem to feel a kind 
of contraceptive exhaustion. Some are 
still on the pill (for menstrual regularity 
or "extra confidence"). A few older girls 
may even have struggled with strange 
and ancient methods such as the di- 
aphragm. And many seem to think— 
even if they don't admit it —that there is 
something off about a girl who carries 
condoms, "like she is just waiting or 
looking for it,” as Carl Mosher says. 

What the girls handle these days is the 
now-essential pre-sex interview. 

“You have to be entirely straightfor- 
ward,” Tesh says somberly. "Honest. No 
dancing around the subject. Take a deep 
breath and say it: Who were you with? 
And could I please have blood and urine 
samples before we proceed?” 

After all the talking, that first time un- 
folds in one of two ways: Either they do 
it in a blast of passion, “a heat-of-the-mo- 
ment” thing, and then freak out after- 
ward, or they calculate and freak out be- 
fore, during and after. 

“1 was scared to death the first time,” 
says Ryan, so worked up by the memory 
that she's pushing lettuce off her plate. 
“T was, like, Oh my God, what if the con- 
dom breaks? I'm so scared of finding out 
I have AIDS. I was, like, Please, God! 
You cannot look into a computer, like, 
punch someone's name up and find out 
everything. Like, sex Nexis! Too bad. 
Because the confession— Who's he been 
with?’—doesn't mean anything.” 

A few girls confide that they like mas- 
sages or scented candles, or that a cer- 
tain guy has a “humongous cock” 
a “fuck-me-jam-it-in-the-back-door” 
approach. But there are many more 
who say nothing whatsoever about the 
sex. They did it “for the guy.” They had 
their eyes closed. They don't even know 
if they've had orgasms. “We're just try- 
ing to get through the thing itself,” says 
Cohen. A younger girl adds, “We're not 
sure of the technology.” 

But weed out all the awkward pream- 
bles, the freak-outs and the hopeful ex- 
aggerations, and the most typical sex en- 
counters seem neither disastrous nor 
blissful. They are merely short-circuited. 
A long while after “the diseased guy,” 
Cara Goldstein went back to a dorm 
room with “this guy I knew, sort of. And 
we were just kissing and stuff and it was 
nice. But he was, like, ‘Can we make 
love?" I'm, like, love? Excuse me? I don't 
even know you.” She taps some ice into 
her mouth, then says, “He got weird. 
And so I'm, like, Oh my God, you know, 
I thought I was over the panic—that I'm 
so scared of guys. It's a problem. The 
guys all want it, like, ‘bi,’ like in Basic In- 
stinct. Sharon Stone. Madonna. They 
think it’s fun. I left.” 


If many of my interviewees end up in 
confused, hair-flicking rants, there are 


those that start out speedy and upset 
and just stay that way. 

For instance, Linn Chen of Brooklyn 
is the “only girl child” in a Chinese fami- 
ly that has strong views about virginity. 
“My mother said ‘It is your most power- 
ful possession. The Chinese woman is 
like a jewel.” Some people, in the heat of 
the moment, they feel ‘Get it over with,’ 
but I can't. I can't,” she shouts. “I can't! I 
would be gypped. Low-down, as if I had 
lost my most valuable possession and 
where is my security? . . . Also, if I got 
AIDS, I would be dead. My parents 
would think, Our little girl let us down.” 

Tonya Sharazz tries to sound casual 
about sex and her friends: “А lot of girls 
from my school are pregnant. Out of 20, 
about half. Some are 15. And I know of 
13-ycar-olds and a 17-ycar-old.” 

But she very quickly starts to sound 
angry. At the friend “who did it out of 
spite to bring her boyfriend and her 
closer together, but it just drew him 
away.” Or the 13-year-old who told her 
she had a child because “she has no 
brothers or sisters” and needed “some- 
опе to take care of.” 

Tonya, an adamant virgin with “high 
expectations” of herself, sounds furious 
about having to consider sex at all. "I 
would have to be emotionally stable to 
do it. And be able to support my child. 
Even if it had seven arms or, like, a birth 
defect, I would still go through with it. 
Every action has its consequence,” she 
says, emphasizing each word. “If there 
were no disease, there would be some- 
thing else. Sex is associated with some- 
thing bad.” 

Most of the girls I interviewed would 
denounce this sort of assessment as 


melodramatic. They would then return 
to talking about AIDS, pregnancy scares, 
abortions and how everything is made 
worse by untrustworthy guys. If guys are 
always slightly suspect—likely at best to 
discuss your body parts with their 
friends—they are now potentially life- 
threatening. Thus the usual complaints 
have taken on a paranoid twist: “He said 
he'd call me, but he didn’t” now seems to 
mean, “Is he afraid to tell me something 
bad? Like about AIDS?” 

“He seemed distant during sex” silent- 
ly translates as, “Did the condom break 
and he didn't say?" When one 17-year- 
old says, “He was an animal, like, he bit,” 
it’s clear she wants to know, “Can you get 
AIDS from a hickey?” 

But they are just as suspicious of—and 
hard on—one another. They critique 
their own sexual histories. They police 
their best friends, assessing behavior, at- 
titudes and outfits for potential slutti- 
ness. Some girl, somewhere, is always be- 
moaning what Ryan calls “that la-la-la 
damn dizzy attitude. The thing is, guys 
have their way. You've got to know how 
to handle them. You can't sleep with a 
guy on the first date, no matter what he 
says. Have some respect! Have a brain!” 

In my own view, it's the rare girl now 
who seems flighty, ditzy, unaware that 
sex or AIDS could get to her. Jenett Co- 
hen lets her improvised beehive slowly 
collapse and tries to summarize: "It's, 
like, if you're not tough, you're dead 
meat. End of story.” 


After polishing off the last flat diet 
Coke and stabbing that final cigarette 


"It's been paid for.” 


153 


РІ АТВ ОГ 


154 


into the сарриссіпо cup, the girls will 
look at one another and start to laugh. 
Because, like, it all sounds so extreme. 
And because they do have fun. And all 
the AIDS propaganda—the gym class 
talk—does get so tiring. 

A few try to imagine something hope- 
ful emerging from this mess. “I think 
we're going to see a return to feeling,” 
says Victoria Jackson, a 20-year-old peer 
counselor on Long Island. “Kids are go- 
ing to want to make loye and not just 
fuck. That’s what all this has led to—the 
therapy, the rehab. Even with AIDS. 
They want it to mean something.” 

Of course, there are kids who wish 
they had lived in the legendary free-love 
Seventies and Eighties, which seem to 
have blurred with the Sixties or, as Carl 
Mosher says, "in the Fifties. Just because 
of the way it was. Like, guys taking Miss 
Innocent Daughter out on a date.” 

*Qur parents had it lucky,” says Gin- 
ger Friedman, back at the NYU table. "It 


"Hello . 


was the whole free-love time. You could 
experiment and not have to worry.” 

Cara Goldstein isn't so sure. "I think 
it's easy to imagine that it was so much 
better. Like, to be in the Sixties. What 
did you get then? The Grateful Dead? 
You can still like the Grateful Dead.” 

“Yeah, and the drugs,” says Jenett 
Cohen. 

Jennifer with the pink hair points out 
that living now has its advantages, ex- 
cept, of course, for sex—the fact that you 
can't, as she says, “just have a real live 
body when you feel like it.” 

“Hey, what are you going to do?” says 
Jenett. She pokes around to see what 
food remains on the plates. Cara hands 
her a half-smoked cigarette. She inhales 
and holds in the smoke as she says, “The 
fact that it sucks? You deal. You can’t go 
around feeling doomed. You're going to 
die. I’m not even 19! I can't live saying, 
Oh, when I was 17, boy, then I was wild!” 


. «I'm Mr. Right.” 


DANA DELANY 


(continued from page 124) 
17. 


PLAYBOY: What one thing about men 
would be wonderful to know? 

DELANY: What most women want to 
know: Why can't men be monogamous? 
I dor’t hold it against men, though. The 
older I get, the more I'd rather hang out 
with women. Women today, especially in 
their 30s and older, are curious about so 
many things. They investigate and want 
to learn and aren't afraid of new things. 
Men are a little more fearful of change. 
I'm not trying to put down men; I just 
find that women's minds are more elas- 
tic. I used to be stimulated by sex. Now 
I'm stimulated by ideas. Or some good 
ideas about sex. [Laughs] But you know 
what? It used to be that women got to- 
gether and talked about men. We don't 
anymore. In fact, we can have entire 
conversations without talking about 
men. I guess that will send the guys div- 
ing for the diaries. 


18. 


PLAYBOY: You were quoted as suggesting 
that actors Liam Neeson, James Woods 
and Willem Dafoe are among the best- 
endowed males in Hollywood. How do 
you know? 

DELANY: After I said that, everyone 
thought I'd had sex with all those men. I 
haven't—or else I wouldn't have talked 
about it. I've seen Willem because I had 
a bird's-eye view in Light Sleeper. Liam is 
legendary. And Jimmy Woods is so 
proud that he'd be happy to share the 
fact with you. Jimmy was very flattered. 
He said he’s gotten a lot more dates since 
that article came out. I read that Liam 
had mentioned it. 1 suppose that meant 
he was flattered. But who wouldn't be? 


E9: 


PLAYBOY: Could you repeat the line you 
said to Willem Dafoe about his erection 
so that we can put it on our answering 
machine? 

DELANY: [Smiles] "Quite an erection you 
have there.” And then I say, “I'm drip- 
ping." That was my favorite line. Susan 
Sarandon was also in the film, though I 
didn’t get to work with her because of 
scheduling problems. But there was one 
day of crossover when I had come in for 
a photo shoot. I walked into the trailer 
and Susan said, "Oh, here she is, Little 
Miss ‘I'm dripping.” 


20. 


PLAYBOY: Writers frequently describe you 
as “freshly scrubbed.” Who would you 
like to bathe? 
DELANY: Bono. He's greasy. And I'd like 
to meet him. 

E 


How Spies Die („барғо 


“My hands went clammy around the ten-cent martinis 
at the Officers Club. Could I really help the other side?” 


la Reforma, the main street through the 
capital. Its principal mission when Rick 
Ames arrived in 1981 was to keep track 
of and {гу to recruit European commu- 
nist operatives. The Sandinistas were an- 
other recruiting priority. After two years 
in Mexico, though, Ames’ most visible 
accomplishment was to recruit the 
strong-willed, intellectually oriented cul- 
tural attaché at the Colombian embassy, 
Maria del Rosario Casas Dupuy. 

She was a puzzling choice as an agent. 
“You normally wouldn't hire her to spy 
on the Colombian embassy, which is a 
very low priority,” remarked John Hor- 
ton, a onetime CIA station chief in Mex- 
ico. Even if she were hired to pass on 
what she had heard from flirtatious com- 
munists, her value to the CIA would 
have been slight. 

It was even more puzzling when 
Ames’ agent became his lover. That, say 
the experts in retrospect, should have 
been the СТАЗ first warning. Operations 
directorate people should not have no- 
ticeable romances with paid informants. 

Ames' questionable relationship with 
Rosario continued and did not harm his 
career. It is possible, of course, that Ames 
performed his job more efficiently than 
government disclosures since his arrest 
might indicate. The fact is that he was 
promoted again in 1983 and returned 
to Washington as the chief of counter- 
intelligence for the Soviet branch of the 
operations directorate. His lover came 
with him. 

The job gave Ames access to the 
dossiers of every CIA informant in the 
Soviet Union and its embassies abroad. 
Was it a good spot for a mole? "There's 
not another GS-14 in the CIA who 
would've been better placed,” said Dean 
Almy. Ames worked in Washington until 
1986, when he was assigned to Rome. 

No one is sure when Ames began to 
spy, but the FBI affidavit states that he 
made his first domestic deposit of Soviet 
money on May 18, 1985. Asit happened, 
just two days later, John Walker was ar- 
rested, and the astonishing secrets of the 
spy ring he ran with members of his own 
family were revealed. So many spies 
were caught around that time that 1985 
came to be known as the Year of the Spy. 
Ronald Pelton had sold NSA secrets for 
five years before Yurchenko exposed 
him. John Walker, it turned out, had 
sold cryptography secrets to the Rus- 
sians for nearly 20 years, until his angry 
ex-wife turned him in. "Kmart protects 
its toothpaste better than the Navy pro- 
tects its secrets,” he said later. 


Was Ames alarmed when people who 
had done exactly what he was doing 
went off to jail? Perhaps. But what may 
have impressed Ames was not that they 
were caught but how easy it was to es- 
cape detection. 

In August 1985, about the time 
Yurchenko defected, Ames married Ma- 
ria del Rosario Casas Dupuy. 


I once thought about going over. I 
knew the names and locations of com- 
munist agents who could have facilitated 
my defection to Hanoi. Or I could have 
stayed in my job and found an anony- 
mous way to deliver information to the 
other side. 

Such a consideration was the result of 
the troubling experience I had with my 
principal agent in Vietnam, the man at 
the top of the web of spies—and with my 
bosses. When the agent flunked a lie-de- 
tector test, I first suspected he was work- 
ing for the communists. In fact, I discov- 
ered he was a secret agent for a 
neofascist political party and was using 
me to knock off the party’s rivals on the 
left. It worked like this: My agent's job 
was to supply me with the names of Viet- 
namese citizens suspected of being 
members of the clandestine apparat. I 
gave the names to the Phoenix Program, 
а С1А-гип operation specifically targeted 
against the Viet Cong political under- 
ground. On paper the Phoenix people 
then investigated the suspects. If the evi- 
dence warranted it, there would be ar- 
rests. As I said, that was on paper. From 
what I saw, the Phoenix Program was 
much different in practice. Its CIA hit 
teams got the names of suspects and 
killed them. 

My agent had figured out how the sys- 
tem worked. He supplied me with the 
names of suspects due for certain assassi- 
nation. The crisis came when I realized 
the names he gave me weren't commu- 
nists, but Buddhists who favored a U.S. 
withdrawal and a negotiated end to the 
war. I tried to fire my agent, but because 
he had provided reliable reporting in 
other areas, Army Intelligence head- 
quarters wouldn't let him go. 

I brooded on this fatal corruption for 
a couple of weeks. I considered what I 
knew about other operations. A friend 
told me he had nicknamed his useless 
and expensive Vietnamese spooks Ali 
Baba and the 40 Thieves. I knew of a 
CIA officer who embezzled money. I 
knew about other US. officials who 


worked the black market or sent contra- 
band antiquities home in the diplomatic 
pouch. I knew about the torture that 
the CIA supervised in a jail near my 
office, and that the Air Force was secret- 
ly bombing Laos and Cambodia day and 
night. The whole war was a criminal en- 
terprise, it seemed, with a price tag 
in dead and mutilated Vietnamese 
and Gls. 

My hands went clammy around the 
ten-cent martinis at the Officers Club. 
Could 1 really help the other side? It 
would be so easy. I was certain I could es- 
cape detection. 

Well, I suppose I was a coward. I kept 
my mouth shut, went home and was dis- 
charged. In going over, I decided, 1 
would have just played into the hands of 
another bunch of goons in Hanoi who 
had never impressed me much as Jeffer- 
sonian democrats. A year or so passed 
and eventually I did speak out publicly 
against the war. And then one day in 
1971 a guy showed up and asked me 
for names. 

“IF you really want to help end the 
war,” he said, “why don't you publish the 
names of your agents? Or just give them 
to me? ГЇЇ see that they get to Hanoi.” 

Well, those were good questions, but 
I already knew my answer. I couldn't 
see how adding a few more corpses to 
the pile would help end the war. It was 
one thing to blow the whistle. It would 
have been another thing to hand over 
the names of people who, at worst, were 
just trying to make a buck, or at best, 
had put their lives on the line for the 
American ideal of freedom, imperfect as 
it may be. 

But Aldrich Ames did just that. Infor- 
mation that he provided may well have 
led to the execution of many people, the 
FBI says. "He was a rat,” said one former 
CIA man, “who jumped on a sinking 
ship.” 

е 


The CIA is a peculiar institution 
whose ingrained ways made it easy for 
Ames’ colleagues to ignore suspicious 
behavior and for him to avoid investiga- 
tion. His expensive lifestyle, for exam- 
ple, was unremarkable. Ames fit well in- 
to the agency’s tradition of genteel wits, 
so no one thought it implausible when 
he married a woman who would buy a 
half-million-dollar house with cash. In 
any case, Ames was a direct connection 
with the old days of the CIA, when it was 
not uncommon for uncashed paychecks 
to pile up in the desks of its wealthy 
employees. 

Nor was it particularly odd that Ames 
was able to stay in the loop of sensitive 
documents even after he fell under sus- 
picion and was transferred to a CIA nar- 
cotics desk in 1991. Secrets are the coin 
of the realm. It's only to be expected that 


CIA men are fascinated by them. They 155 


PLAYBOY 


collect and trade secrets as if they were 
baseball cards. 

“The fact that he got information or 
documents from the Soviet branch after 
he was transferred does not surprise 
me,” said one CIA operative who ex- 
pressed the opinion of many others. 
"Somebody told me about the Iranian 
hostage rescue attempt two weeks before 
it happened—the airfields we had set 
up. everything—and I had no need to 
know. You just get together with some- 
body you know and trust and you trade 
all sorts of things.” 

Suspicion itself was not popular 
around the CIA, which had been tied in- 
to knots by the notorious counterintelli- 
gence czar James Jesus Angleton who, 
some say, went insane chasing Soviet 
moles he could never find. He was fired 
in 1974 and died in 1987. 

But now, Angleton's old allies are get- 
ting their turn at bat. In April an anony- 
mous memo arrived at the House and 
Senate intelligence committee charging 
that the CIAs counterintelligence func- 
tion “was decentralized, subordinated 
and deliberately designed to cover up 
and protect double agents and moles” 


after Angleton’s departure. It also 
claimed that Ames’ boss warned him he 
was suspected of being a mole. 


In January 1970, a few months after I 
came home from Vietnam, an enyelope 
arrived at my apartment in Boston, post- 
marked in Hawaii, with no return ad- 
dress. I opened it and found another en- 
velope inside, this one with no markings 
at all. Inside that was a typed letter with 
no date, salutation or signature. 

“I just thought you would like to know 
what happened after you left,” it began. 
I knew immediately that it was from the 
man who had taken over my job in 
Da Nang. 

In veiled language he told me what 
had happened to “Dinky,” as we called 
the agent I had tried to fire. (The nick- 
name was a play on his real name and 
the Vietnamese words for crazy, dien cai 
dau, literally, “electricity in the head,” 
which GIs rendered as dinky-dow, slang 
for getting stoned.) 

He had tried to fire Dinky, too, my 
successor wrote. Instead, Dinky was pro- 


“Uh, some of the women were wondering if you couldn't 
include something about equal rights. . . .” 


moted. The Saigon intelligence com- 
mand had manipulated his reports to 
raise his official credi ating (and, of 
course, their own). So Dinky continued 
to provide the names of his political ene- 
mies to the U.S. intelligence system and 
to use the system as his personal Murder 
Inc. As the years went by, I often won- 
dered what had happened to him. 

The answer came out of the blue one 
Saturday afternoon years later when I 
walked into a Murphy's hardware store 
in Washington, D.C. There, working the 
cash register, was our man Dinky. 

I said hello in Vietnamese. He looked 
at me and smiled with only a hint of 
recognition. 

“Anything else2” he asked, 

No, there really wasn't anything else 

Just like the old days, I handed him 
some money, and I walked out the door. 
I never saw him again. 

I suspect many ex-CIA agents have 
similar stories about people getting away 
with intolerable conduct. Now their sto- 
ries may have ominous and timely impli- 
cations. The most significant, of course, 
is that Ames was not the only mole. The 
CIA leadership must face the fact that it 
has no idea how many of its personnel 
have gone bad. The agency employs 
20,000 people, including thousands of 
clerical workers and computer wonks 
who have access to secrets but little ofthe 
sense of family that the agency once had. 
And now everybody knows that even a 
sloppy thief can steal the agency's deep- 
est secrets, 

Before Ames, the CIA could make the 
case that it could police itself. That may 
no longer be true, especially if the FBI 
has anything to say about it. The two or- 
ganizations cooperated in the investiga- 
tion of Ames, but uncomfortably. “The 
FBI and the CIA do not see eye to eye,” 
said John Greaney, a former CIA deputy 
counsel. The FBI, he says, wants public- 
ity and therefore wants to disclose every- 
thing when it makes a bust. The CIA, 
which isn’t a law-enforcement organiza- 
tion, would rather disclose nothing. CIA 
men obviously find mole hunts unpleas- 
ant. “I know of guys who were suspected 
of being moles,” a covert-action veteran 
told me. “One flunked the lie detector 
and they just let him go. They couldn't 
prove it.” Another case “was swept un- 
der the rug because he was a valuable as- 
set and no one wanted to admit the bad 
news. That happens a lot.” 

The CIA bureaucracy will probably 
try, as it did during this mole hunt, to re- 
sist scrutiny by the FBI, even though 
CIA director R. James Woolsey has sug- 
gested that there are other major coun- 
terintelligence investigations in the 
works. It seems inevitable that the FBI 
and the CIA will dash again, and that's 
good news for any and all moles who are 
still at work. 

El 


Ё 
Н 
E 


Where & How to Buy on page 143. 


| 
ON-THE 


f you don't already own a portable cellular phone, digital tech- 
nology may be just the incentive you need. Now available in 
major markets such as Miami, Los Angeles, New York and 
Chicago, digital cellular systems can handle about four times 
the capacity of current analog ones, which means cheaper calls 
and better connections. Static and background noise, for example, 


| AYBOY 


сег E 


PACKING A PORTABLE 


are diminished. And greater privacy is guaranteed: Speech is en- 
coded as data, thus rendering it incomprehensible to an electronic 
eavesdropper. If digital cellular isn't yet offered in your hometown, 
there are plenty of analog portables worth considering. One of our 
favorite models is Motorola's wafer-thin Premier flip phone, which 
can easily be programmed to vibrate silently rather than ring. 


At left is the Nokia PC Card, a cable connecter and fax-modem PCMCIA card ($399) that lets you hook a Nokia portable cellular phone to a 
notebook computer to send and receive data, faxes and e-mail, Next to it is Nokia’s eight-ounce 2120 digital-and-analog portable, featuring 
99-memory speed dial and an optional battery, $75, that provides about three hours of talk time in digital mode, $600. Right: In addition to 
having ten-number memory speed dial and one-touch redial, the 6.9-ounce analog Motorola Premier vibrates to alert you to calls, $400. 


GRAPEVINE 


Hidden Treasure 

Model and actress TRACY HAGEMANN is a Texas beauty who has 
graced the pages of magazines and calendars, done television 
commercials and videos and 

even appeared on the old 
Dallas series. The 
eyes have it. 


Sheer Gear 
Are we imagining it, or are all the best-looking women in Hol- 
Iywood wearing the same black dress? Exhibit A: MADELEINE 
STOWE. Fresh from two talked-about movies this year, Blink 
and Bad Girls, Madeleine can wear whatever suits her. 


4, Ё ПШ E 
Hip-Hop Meets 
The best fusioafof jazz and rap these days can bg heard 
on Hand, Offfhe Torch. by IRE Anglo-American band 

States this summer with 


bop 


Cross My Heart 

New to show business, DEANNE 
TRAVIS has her eyes open and her 
hands up. She's been modeling 
> swimsuits and posing for calen- 
dars. Next up, a poster. Until then, 
Deanne shows her hand. 


Rick’s Tricks 

To celebrate Cheap Trick's 20th an- 
niversary, RICK NIELSEN and his 
bandmates released Woke Up With 
a Monster and then hit the road. 
Rick has hundreds of guitars and 
he can make them all howl. Hail, 
hail, rock and roll. 


Boys in the Band 

An up-front admission: We really like MATERIAL 
ISSUE. Ever since International Pop Overthrow 
in 1991, we've been waiting for them to make 
the big move. Their latest album, Freak City 
Soundtrack, might just be it. Catch the tour. 


—— 


SKULL SESSION 


Wearing a cap with the bill 
turned backward may be 
fine for 17-year-olds, but if 
you want adult headgear 
with an attitude, check out 
a Sport Skinz Skull Cap. 
It's a new style of leather- 
and-nylon cap that fits 
your head like a glove. 
The UV polycarbonate 
lenses are detachable, and 
there's a braided tail plus 
a tie in the back for one- 
size-fits-all comfort, mak- 
ing it ideal for almost all 
outdoor activities from cy- 
ding and skateboarding to 
hitting the highway in 
your roadster with the top 
down. A wide variety of 
color combinations are 
available, from wild-look- 
ing white leather teamed 
with purple nylon to no- 
nonsense black and gray. 
(The logos of a number of 
professional sports teams 
and universities are also 
available. Ask about them.) 
Sport Skinz sells Skull 
Caps for $34, postpaid. 
Call 800-355-skin to order. 


THE MAGICAL SUCCESS OF RICKY JAY 


It's no mystery why tickets for the recent Manhattan magic show Ricky 
Jay and His 52 Assistants sold out immediately. Jay is å master sleight-of- 
hand artist (his 52 assistants, of course, are a deck of cards) and the au- 
thor of Learned Pigs & Fireproof Women, a history of “unique, eccentric 
and amazing entertainers.” Now he’s pulled another rabbit out of his 
hat: Jay's Journal of Anomalies—a quarterly publication devoted to "con- 
jurers, cheats, hustlers, hoaxers, pranksters, jokesters, impostors, pre- 
tenders, sideshowmen, armless calligraphers, mechanical marvels and 
popular entertainments.” Price: $90 a year sent to W&V Dailey Anti- 
160 quarian Books, 8216 Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles 90046. 


POTPOURRI 


THE SHADOW ON YOUR SHELF 


Now that Alec Baldwin has brought La- 
mont Cranston back to the movies in The 
Shadow, Graphitti Designs is offering a 
limited-edition (2500), nine-inch-tall bust 
of the famous crime fighter for $152, 
postpaid. The Shadow's chiseled features 
and crossed .45s have been accurately 
rendered by sculptor Randy Bowen, and 
the character's girasole ring is an Austri- 
an crystal. Graphitti's address: 1140 North 
Kraemer Boulevard, Unit B, Anaheim, 
California 92806, or call 714-632-3356. 


PICK UP STX 


STX of Baltimore, a manufacturer of 
lacrosse sticks, has set its corporate sights 
on golf. Its latest effort is the STX Key 
Putter, a club with two interchangeable 
face inserts made of DuPont Hytrel and 
two center weights that also can be 
switched. This gives the user a total of six 
variations in feel and performance. How 
can you miss? Call 800-srx-Purr for the 
nearest retailer. Price: $225. 


DOGGY STYLE 


Based on responses to Book 
of the Month, Fruit of the 
Month and even Panty of the 
Month, we'd say the Dog 
Treat of the Month Club 
should be a howling success. 
A year’s membership is 
$86.90 (including one free 
month), and for that you get 
a monthly gift-wrapped bag 
of doggy treats that have 
been decorated according to 
the current season or holiday. 
(A six-month membership is Á 
$47.40.) The treats are all- j 
natural and handmade. 4 
Phone 800-Fun-Docs. 


PEEP SHOW 


For those who want to enjoy life in the aquatic slow lane, there's 
the Sea Peeper, a battery-powered ABS plastic raft with a top 
speed of five knots, a bubble-shaped window for viewing life be- 
low deck, joystick steering, twin storage compartments and op- 
tional underwater lights. The Sea Peeper has a 500-pound-maxi- 
mum carrying capacity, and the price is as light as the boat: 
$2995, plus shipping, from the manufacturer at 305-668-viEw. 


WATER AS ART 


For the past five years in 

France, Perrier has offered 
special holiday bottles deco- 
rated with tuxedos. As you 

might have guessed, they in- 
stantly became collector's 

items. Now the company has 
introduced a limited-edition 

line of American art bottles 
featuring four designs that 
include the dinner-jacketed | 
gentleman pictured. Other 
bottles in the series depict 
woodland animals, a polar 

bear and her cub, and an as- 
semblage of Perrier sippers 

and singers. At select restau- 
rants nationwide. 


GET THE LED OUT 


To commemorate Led Zeppelin's 25th anniver- 
sary, Laurence Ratner has published Led Zep- 
pelin Live Dreams, a limited-edition hardcover 
designed to capture in Ratner's own words and 
photographs “the essence of the band in its 
prime and to present that as a museum-quality 
work of art.” Live Dreams’ handmade binding 
and slipcase are of Japanese silk and linen, and 
the cover relief “sculpture” is by Balazs Szabo. 
Price: $130, postpaid, from 800-548-3533. 


IT’S BRONTO-BURGER TIME 


“They don't tick, they talk,” is how Sounds Fun, 
Inc. describes its line of three-dimensional talk- 
ing wristwatches that feature Mickey and Min- 
nie Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy—and now the 
original rock star himself, Fred Flintstone. The 
newest watch tells the time in Fred's voice while 
his mouth moves, and for $24.95, it will get 

you more action than a Rolex. FAO Schwarz, 
‘JCPenney and Service Merchandise carry the 
watch, or you can call 818-865-0800 for info. 


161 


NEXT MONTH 


NFL FORECAST 


PHILLY MOB 


das - 
KNOCKOUT SURPRISE 


THE VILLAGE—WHAT DOES A MAN DO DEEP IN THE 
WOODS AFTER THE SUN GOES DOWN? HE GETS LOST. 
VERY LOST. AN EXCERPT FROM THE FIRST NOVEL OF 
PULITZER PRIZE-WINNING PLAYWRIGHT DAVID MAMET 


WHAT I LIVED FOR—QUIRKY CORCORAN, RECENTLY DI- 
VORCED AND CELEBRATING AT THE ZEPHIR LOUNGE, 
CAN'T BELIEVE HIS LUCK WHEN HE MEETS TWO BEAUTI- 
FUL YOUNG WOMEN INTENT ON PICKING HIM UP—FIC- 
TION FROM THE INIMITABLE JOYCE CAROL OATES 


THE MOE'S LAST CIVIL WAR—FOR 14 BLOODY YEARS, 
THE PHILADELPHIA MOB HAS PITTED BROTHER AGAINST 
BROTHER, CAPO AGAINST CAPO. FOR CONTROL OF THE 
ACTION. NOBODY ANTICIPATED THE ULTIMATE WINNER: 
THE FBI—BY GEORGE ANASTASIA 


WARNING: THIS 15 A VIOLENT ARTICLE—PENN JIL- 
LETTE, THE VOCAL HALF OF THE MAGIC DUO PENN AND 
TELLER, LETS RIP ON TV VIOLENCE, CENSORSHIP AND 
THE PROBLEM WITH JANET RENO 


NAKED NIELSEN—A RAUCOUS PICTORIAL, IN WHICH 
NAKED GUN'S LESLIE NIELSEN REMAKES FILM CLASSICS 
IN THE NAKED MOLD WITH THE HELP OF SOME VERY CO- 
OPERATIVE. VERY BEAUTIFUL CO-STARS: 


NAKED NIELSEN 


THE ROCK-BOTTOM REMAINDERS— FOLLOW STEPHEN 
KING, ROY BLOUNT JR. AND DAVE BARRY FROM BOOK- 
STORE TO BACKSTAGE AS THEY TEAM UP WITH 12 OTHER 
AUTHORS ON TOUR AS A ROCK-AND-ROLL BAND WITH 
THREE CHORDS AND AN ATTITUDE 


DAVID GEFFEN—THE SHOWBIZ ULTRAMOGUL OFFERS 
A RARE BEHIND-THE-SCENES LOOK AT MOVIES, MUSIC 
AND POLITICS IN A CANDID PLAYBOY INTERVIEW BY 
DAVID SHEFF 


PRO FOOTBALL FORECAST -ORACLE DANNY SHERI- 
DAN TAKES A GANDER AT THIS YEAR'S GRIDIRON ACTION 
AND PICKS—NO KIDDING—A COWBOY-FREE SUPER BOWL 


NYPD BLUE'S DAVID CARUSO IS A SENSITIVE GUY AND A 
STAND-UP COP. HE'S ALSO THE SEX SYMBOL FOR THE 
NINETIES. DAVID RENSIN INTERROGATES HIM ABOUT 
THE LESSONS HE'S LEARNED FROM STREET FIGHTS AND 
SEX SCENES IN AN OFF-DUTY 20 QUESTIONS 


PLUS: OUR FALL AND WINTER FASHION FORECAST, A 
KNOCKOUT PICTORIAL, IN-LINE SKATES, HOT NEW VCRS 
AND JON KRAKAUER ON THE FLAP OVER VITAMINS—DO 
THEY HURT OR HELP 


no doubt about it. 


Kings, 17 mg. “tar”, 1.1 mg. nicotine 
av. per cigarette by FTC method. ©1994 sawt co. 


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Cigarette 
Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide. 


JUSTADD 


BACARDI 


TASTE THE FEELING. 


Jo 


Bacardi, rum Made in Puerto Rico. =