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"HELMUT NEWTON)? 
RETROSPECTIVE" 

THE INTERVIEW: NYPD 
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[Py ecember is here. 'Tis the season for 
| strong drinks, roaring fires, unwanted 
gifts and too much family. At least 
there's basketball on TV. You'll find much of 
that, plus the beautiful women we adore, in 
this gala Christmas issue. God and sinners 
may be reconciled, but the Sinaloa drug 
cartel is beyond redemption. It has been 
funneling drugs through the unlikely city of 
гада, andi in Public Enemy Number One 
eith explores how detectives 
are eere to end the mayhem. Speaking 
of redemption, in The Truth Shall Set You 
Free Neal G r delivers a riveting profile 
of Jim McCloskey, who has been called "an 
angel delivered by God" for his work to free 
the wrongfully accused. It's a feel-good story 
about a complex man we can all look u to. 
Plenty of women have looked up to H 
Newton—a guy we envy—who photographed 
the most beautiful models and actresses in 
exotic locations. Our retrospective showcases 
some of his finest work andi is sure to bring 
holiday cheer. Ray Kelly is one hell of a 
controversial New Yorker. The commissioner 
of the nation's Largest police force is 
unflappable as Glenn Plaskin 
grills him in this month's Playboy 
Interview. "In this job you get 
criticized for virtually everything 
you do or don't do,' Kelly says. 
From his description of his modest 
beginnings to his defense of the 
controversial stop- and- frisk 
policy, it's a gripping read. 
Coover's fiction transports us to a 
dystopian future in Six Soldiers of 
Fortune, an account of six bionic 
vets who embark on a mission to 
kidnap the president and upend a 
society ruled by corporations. It's 
how we'd live if there were no guys 
like Ray Kelly аго! nd. In Turned 
On, Rachel R ite takes us 
across the country into bedrooms 
where housewives perform on 
webcams nightly. They're shaking up the 
porn industry, and their "performances" will 
surprise you. Women have more power than 
ever before, a fact Hilary Winston praises 
and laments in "When Your Boss Has a 
Vagina," her first Women column for PLAvBov. 
The Hollywood showrunner and author of My 
Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me reveals 
that having a female boss is like knowing 
any other woman—except she needs you 
in by nine or you're fired. Have you played 
the new Grand Theft Auto, a masterwork 
of the video game genre? In Criminal Mind 
Harold Goldberg interviews the elusive Sam 
Houser, the industry mogul behind the series, 
speaking with the press for the first time in 
years. In 20Q we take a ride with James 
Marsden. Fresh off the set of Anchorman 
2, he reveals why it's the only movie of his 
he has wanted to watch after working on it. 
He also addresses rumors that he fathered 
January Jones's child—what a glorious life he 
must lead. A new year is around the corner, 
and ravishing Playmates and page-turning 
stories await. Happy holidays from Hef and 
the rest of us here at PLAYBOY. 


PLAYBILL 


Malcolm Beith 


Neal Gabler 


Robert Coover ` 


Jamês Marsden 


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MADE THE 
OLD-SCHOOL WAY. 


92 PROOF. BOLD & SMOOTH AS HELL. 


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4 . E , ag М. 3. 
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> FEATURES 
68! THE TRUTH SHALL? CRIMINAL.MIND ` 
SEE YOU FREE ч: Sam Houser, the genius 
a Jim McCloskey works behind Grand Theft Auto, 
= = - tirelessly to free che gives his first interview 
a TS “a wrongfully convicted. His Ж in years to HAROLD 
= N : Sot t с, | ownmuddled past may be ~> GOLDBERG and explains 
1 . . what drives him, as NEAL ^ how he conquered gamíng. 


+ “GABBER reports. 


GAME CHANGERS 
The latest consoles are 
here. Isyour livingroom , 
ready for a rebolutionꝰ 


/ exposes truths about 
manhood and the raw, 
humanity ofthering. _ 


PUBLIC ENEMY 

NUMBER ONE 

х » 2 The DEA has been chasing 
5 TURNED ON Joaquin Guzman, leader of 


ith webcams, porn is the Sinaloa Mexican drug 


E =." nówihadein bedrooms ` ¦ cartel, for years. MALCOLM 
worldwide. RACHEL R. BEITH details the 
rA WHITE talks to the women investigation’s strangest \ 
Y who cam. turn: in Chicago. 
4. ‚ TALKIN’ BOUT ` COLLEGE 
: YOUR GENERATION `- ‘BASKETBALL 
STEVEN CHEAN dissects PREVIEW 
the pros, cons, heroes and GARY PARRISH highlights 


+. villaifis ofevery recent FE the players and teams to 
American era, including watch in this ultimate 
fd Boomers and Millennials, run-up to March Madness - 


to see which is the greatest. 


E THE YEAR IN SEX x INTERVIEW 
ES We watched Miley twerk, met , > 
Y Carlos Danger and bought. i RAY KELLY а 
¿kosher lube. Relive 2013s. | The NYPDĉommissioner ¢ 
i most provocative moments. | defends stop-and-frisk and " 
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Consider our Rabbit your I 
North Star this yeat— 

-glowing in the darkened sky” 
to lead you to holiday cheer. 

n 


PHOTOGRAPHY, THIS PAGE 
AND COVER, BY TONY KELLY, 
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57 


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50 


120 


DON'T DRILL 
ONME 

DEAN KUIPERS writes 
about the latest activists 
to oppose the Keystone 
XL pipeline: die-hard 
conservatives. 


READER 
RESPONSE 
Exposing Rand Paul's 


COLUMNS 


GAME OVER 

JOEL STEIN defends 
hisretirement from video 
gamingasa form 

of existential dread. 


WHEN YOUR BOSS 
HAS A VAGINA 


Having a female manager is 


no different from having a 
male one—sort of. HILARY 
WINSTON explains. 


SERVICE 


GIFT GUIDE 

From heirloom footballs to 
a Fender that shreds, we 
have the gifts you really, 
really want this year. 


60 


flip-floppery; a marijuana 
felon's story; the roots of 
the mortgage crisis. 


INDECENT 
EXPOSURE 

Shady lawyers are suing 
people for illegally 
downloading porn. 
RICHARD MORGAN 
uncovers their dirty tricks. 


140: BEYOND BLACK TIE 
Our guide to modern 
formalwear that’s any- 
thing but stuffy. Fashion by 
JENNIFER RYAN JONES 


74 


96 


144 


12 


183 


118 


VOL. 60, NO. 10-DECEMBER 2013 


PLAYBOY 


CONTENTS 


PICTORIALS 


SNOW ANGEL 
A dreamy walk through 
the park with Olga 
Ogneva, who doesn't let 
snow dampen her 
red-hot allure. 


HOUSE 
CALL 
Miss 
December 
Kennedy Summers 
makes winter bearable 
simply by being her 
spellbinding self. 


HELMUT NEWTON 
Our retrospective ofthe 
photographer's most. 
striking work is one 
you'll want to keep. 


NEWS & NOTES 


WORLD OF 
PLAYBOY 

Russell Brand and 
Johnny Knoxville visit 
the Mansion; Terry 
Richardson falls for 
Alyssa Arce. 


PLAYMATE NEWS 
Kylie Johnson sports 
asexy T-shirt line; 
Tiffany Toth launches 
anonline boutique. 


20Q: James Marsden 


DEPARTMEN 


5: PLAYBILL 
15 DEAR PLAYBOY 


CARTOONS 19 AFTER HOURS 


CARTOONS OF 36; REVIEWS 
CHRISTMAS PAST 42 MANTRACK 
This season can be 53. PLAYBOY 
taxing. Have a laugh with ADVISOR 

our best holiday satire. 106: PARTY JOKES 


ө PLAYBOY ON © PLAYBOY ON © PLAYBOY ON 
FACEBOOK TWITTER INSTAGRAM 
GET SOCIAL Keep up with all things Playboy at 


facebook.com/playboy, twitter.com/playboy 
and instagram.com/playboy 


GENERAL OFFICES: PLAYBOY, 9346 CIVIC CENTER DRIVE, BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA 90210. 
PLAYBOY ASSUMES NO RESPONSIBILITY TO RETURN UNSOLICITED EDITORIAL OR GRAPHIC OR 
OTHER MATERIAL. ALL RIGHTS IN LETTERS AND UNSOLICITED EDITORIAL AND GRAPHIC MATERIAL 
WILL BE TREATED AS UNCONDITIONALLY ASSIGNED FOR PUBLICATION AND COPYRIGHT PURPOSES, 
AND MATERIAL WILL BE SUBJECT TO PLAYBOY'S UNRESTRICTED RIGHT TO EDIT AND TO COMMENT 
EDITORIALLY. CONTENTS COPYRIGHT £ 2013 BY PLAYBOY, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLAYBOY, PLAY- 
MATE AND RABBIT HEAD SYMBOL ARE MARKS OF PLAYBOY, REGISTERED US, TRADEMARK OFFICE. 
NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, STORED IN A RETRIEVAL SYSTEM OR TRANSMIT- 
TED IN ANY FORM BY ANY ELECTRONIC, MECHANICAL, PHOTOCOPYING OR RECORDING MEANS OR 
OTHERWISE WITHOUT PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER. ANY SIMILARITY BETWEEN 
THE PEOPLE AND PLACES IN THE FICTION AND SEMI-FICTION IN THIS MAGAZINE AND ANY REAL 
PEOPLE AND PLACES IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. FOR CREDITS SEE PAGE 176. MBI/DANBURY MINT 
AND DIRECTV ONSERTS IN DOMESTIC SUBSCRIPTION POLYWRAPPED COPIES. DIRECT WINES 
ONSERTS IN SELECT DOMESTIC SUBSCRIPTION POLYWRAPPED COPIES, CERTIFICADO DE LICITUD 
DE TÍTULO NO. 7570 DE FECHA 29 DE JULIO DE 1993, Y CERTIFICADO DE LICITUD DE CONTENIDO 
NO. 5108 DE FECHA 29 DE JULIO DE 1993 EXPEDIDOS POR LA COMISION CALIFICADORA DE PUBLI- 
CACIONES Y REVISTAS ILUSTRADAS DEPENDIENTE DE LA SECRETARÍA DE GOBERNACIÓN, MÉXICO. 
RESERVA DE DERECHOS 04-2000-071710332800-102. 


PRINTED IN U.S.A. 


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PLAYBOY 


HUGH M. HEFNER 
editor-in-chief 


JIMMY JELLINEK 
editorial director 
STEPHEN RANDALL deputy editor 
MAC LEWIS art director 
LEOPOLD FROEHLICH managing editor 
JASON BUHRMESTER executive editor 
REBECCA H. BLACK photo director 
HUGH GARVEY articles editor 


EDITORIAL 
JENNIFER RYAN JONES fashion and grooming director STAFF: JARED EVANS assistant managing editor; 
GILBERT MACIAS editorial coordinator; CHERIE BRADLEY executive assistant; 

TYLER TRYKOWSKI editorial assistant CARTOONS: AMANDA WARREN associate cartoon editor 
COPY: WINIFRED ORMOND copy chief; BRADLEY LINCOLN senior copy editor; CAT AUER copy editor 

RESEARCH: NORA O'DONNELL senior research editor; SHANE MICHAEL SINGH research editor 

CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: BRANTLEY BARDIN, MARK BOAL, ROBERT B. DE SALVO, PAULA FROELICH, KARL TARO GREENFELD, KEN GROSS, GEORGE GURLEY, 
DAVID HOCHMAN, ARTHUR KRETCHMER (automotive), SEAN MCCUSKER, CHRISTIAN PARENTI, JAMES R. PETERSEN, ROCKY RAKOVIC, STEPHEN REBELLO, DAVID RENSIN, 


CHIP ROWE, TIMOTHY SCHULTZ, WILL SELF, DAVID SHEFF, ROB MAGNUSON SMITH, JOEL STEIN, ROB TANNENBAUM, CHRISTOPHER TENNANT, HILARY WINSTON. 


A.J. BAIME editor at large 


ART 


JUSTIN PAGE senior art director; ROBERT HARKNESS associate art director; AARON LUCAS art coordinator; LAUREL LEWIS art assistant 


PHOTOGRAPHY 
STEPHANIE MORRIS playmate photo editor; BARBARA LEIGH assistant photo editor; MATT STEIGBIGEL photo researcher; 
PATTY BEAUDET-FRANCES contributing photography editor; GAVIN BOND, SASHA EISENMAN, TONY KELLY, JOSH RYAN senior contributing photographers; 
DAVID BELLEMERE, MICHAEL BERNARD, MICHAEL EDWARDS, ELAYNE LODGE, SATOSHI, JOSEPH SHIN contributing photographers; KEVIN MURPHY director, photo library; 
CHRISTIE HARTMANN senior archivist, photo library; KARLA GOTCHER assistant, photo library; DANIEL FERGUSON manager, prepress and imaging; 


AMY KASTNER-DROWN senior digital imaging specialist; OSCAR RODRIGUEZ Senior prepress imaging specialist 


PUBLIC RELATIONS 


‘THERESA M. HENNESSEY vice president; TERI THOMERSON director 


PRODUCTION 


LESLEY K. JOHNSON production director; HELEN YEOMAN production services manager 


PLAYBOY ENTERPRISES INTERNATIONAL, INC. 


SCOTT FLANDERS chief executive officer 


PLAYBOY INTEGRATED SALES 


JOHN LUMPKIN senior vice president, publisher; MARIE FIRNENO vice president, advertising director; AMANDA CIVITELLO senior marketing director 


PLAYBOY PRINT OPERATIONS 
DAVID G. ISRAEL chief operating officer, president, playboy media; 


TOM FLORES senior vice president, business manager, playboy media 


ADVERTISING AND MARKETING: AMERICAN MEDIA INC. 
DAVID PECKER Chairman and chief executive officer; KEVIN HYSON chief marketing officer; BRIAN HOAR vice president, associate publisher; 
HELEN BIANCULLI executive director, direct-response advertising NEW YORK: PATRICK MICHAEL GREENE luxury director; 
BRIAN VRABEL entertainment and gaming director; ADAM WEBB spirits director; KEVIN FALATKO associate marketing director; 
ERIN CARSON marketing manager; NIKI DOLL promotional art director CHICAGO: TIFFANY SPARKS ABBOTT midwest director 
LOS ANGELES: LORI KESSLER west coast director; LINDSAY BERG digital sales planner 


SAN FRANCISCO: SHAWN O'MEARA . o. m. e. 


GUESS?©201 


ART DIR: PAUL MARCIANO PH: MIKAEL JANSSON 


THE WORLD HEF SIGHTINGS, 
MANSION FROLICS 
OF PLAYBOY TT 


Before Bad Grandpa hit movie theaters, the titular 
character paid a visit to the Playboy Mansion. 

The movie follows the outlandish Irving Zisman 
(played by Johnny Knoxville) as he travels across 
the country pranking the public with verbal and 
(very) physical comedy. As Hef's guest, Zisman 
screened the movie for our girls—but not before 
bouncing on the trampoline with them. 


Mr. Worldwide flew from 
Miami to Los Angeles to 
meet Mr. Playboy at the 
Mansion. Rapper Pitbull 

had a sit-down with Cooper 
Hefner and other Playboy 
luminaries—it was a summit 
of international Love. 


Photographer Terry 
Richardson visited 
our office and fell in 
love with Miss July 
Alyssa Arce, whom 
he then shot for Lui, 
the French magazine 
inspired by PLAYBOY. 


Flamboyant British comedian Russell 
Brand spent a day seeing what it's like 

to be in Hef's slippers. Brand had his run 
of the Mansion for a British GQ photo 
shoot in which he fended off the Mansion 
peacocks with a cane, lounged poolside 
with Playmates and then tried to take the 
girls in a cutthroat game of backgammon. 


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PLAYBOY 


ENTERTAINMENT FOR MEN sw pleyboy com e NOVEMBER 2013 


THE INDULGENCE ISSUE 


Choose from more than 3 million books, newspapers and magazines—like PLA 
Enjoy movies, TV shows, apps, e-mail and the web on a spectacular HD display. 


Experience NOOK at your neighborhood Barnes & Noble, or visit NOOK.com 


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PRICE INDEX 
Your art director is a genius. Tony 
Kelly's photograph for Splendor in the 
Grass (September) once again exceeds 
my expectations for PLAYBOY cover art. 
The smile of postcoital pleasure on Ciara 
Price captures the essence of what every 
playboy desires—a happy woman. 
Earl Kepler 
Greenbelt, Maryland 


I really enjoyed the Splendor in the Grass 
pictorial by Tony Kelly. The women are 
beautiful, of course, but the photography 
is great too, especially the auburn-haired 
girl playing badminton on page 70. She's 
a cute, athletic model with a winning 
smile, and I like the chance placement 
of the badminton net. But I swear I've 
seen that girl or pose before, perhaps in 
a Doug Sneyd cartoon? 

Greg Curtis 
Stockbridge, Vermont 
That's our September cover girl, Ciara Price. 


Having Ciara Price and Jaclyn 
Swedberg in the same pictorial is amaz- 
ing, but next time could you add a little 
spice by inviting Alana Campos? 

Chris Elizalde 
San Antonio, Texas 


MORE BRYIANA 
Гуе never written to PLAYBOY before, but 
Miss September compelled me to send 
this note. Just when I thought you had 
found the ultimate Playmate and PMOY 
in Raquel Pomplun, you come up with 
Bryiana Noelle. After all my years of read- 
ing PLAYBOY, she is the ultimate Playmate 
and my definite choice for PMOY 2014. 
Bryiana is absolute perfection. 
Will Currey 
Dallas, Texas 


DEAR PLAYBOY 


Small Wonder 


I'm big on the science and engineer- 
ing of Playmates. Bryiana Noelle (Stairway 
to Heaven, September) weighs only 85 
pounds. Is she the lightest Playmate ever? 

Vincent D'Addio 
Signal Hill, California 

It's a tie. The lovely Miss November 1960 

Joni Mattis (pictured) weighed 85 pounds too. 


If the stairway to heaven is laden with 
beauties like Bryiana Noelle, then I'll be 
going to confession every day, because 
I'm sinning right now. 

Malcolm Sutherland 
via e-mail 


I could not help but notice that 
Bryiana Noelle's photos include a shot 
of her wearing what appears to be white 
panty hose. On rare occasions we have 
had the pleasure of seeing a woman 
wearing stockings in PLAYBOY, but have 
you ever before published a pictorial 
that includes a Playmate posing in panty 
hose? To some they may be a nuisance, 
but to others nylons can be quite femi- 
nine and even erotic. 

Jimmy Ford 
Wichita, Kansas 

Bryiana is wearing tights, which are thicker 
than panty hose. Quite a few Playmates wear 
tights in their pictorials, including Miss May 
1955 Diane Webber, Miss September 1955 
Anne Fleming, Miss March 1957 Sandra 
Edwards and Miss April 1968 Gaye Rennie. 


BURGER WARS 


I always chuckle over your Party Jokes, 
but what really made me laugh was a let- 
ter in the September issue about "The 
Perfect Burger" (After Hours, June). I 
love the reader's hubris in believing that 
his opinion of the best burger means any- 
thing else is “a culinary sin in the fine 
art of burger creation." Fine, he pre- 
fers mustard to mayo or ketchup. But 
French's? I invite this reader to visit New 
York City, eat at any of the many great 
hamburger establishments we have to 
offer and order French's for his burger. 
Please have him Instagram or tweet 
photos of the waitstaff's and patrons' 
reactions for our further entertainment. 

Evan D. Solomon 
Queens, New York 


HAIL RYAN LEAF matter whose skin 
SS | yov're in. 
* The article by 

John Cagney 

Nash (A Hail Mary 
for Ryan Leaf, 
September) is tre- 
mendously well 
written—and from 
an unlikely source. 
This sentence 
killed me: “The 
cure for Ryan Leaf 
is, unfortunately, 
not being Ryan 
Leaf.” As much 

as | and every- 

one else abhor the 
sense of entitle- 
ment that is so 
common among 
athletes and celeb- 
rities in today's 
world, this helps 
explain that things 
aren't so easy no 


* What a sad story. 
Once again, it serves 
as a reminder that 
those people we feel 
have fame, fortune 
and ability can be 
just as susceptible to 
downfall as the rest 
of us, if not more so. 


* Hopefully one 

day Ryan Leaf will 
be able to return to 
coaching. He will 
never be able to 
escape his past, but 
coaching without 
being susceptible to 
drug use could be a 
saving grace for him. 
| hope he is able to 
turn it around. If he 
so chooses, he could 


become a great role 
model and teacher 
for younger players. 


* Knowing him 
only from the pub- 
lic image based on 
the mess he made 
during his time 
with the San Diego 
Chargers, | was 
shocked to realize 
how intelligent and 
contrite Leaf is. | 
heard him on sports 
radio a few years 
ago without know- 
ing who was talking 
until the end of the 
interview. My jaw 
dropped when they 
said who it was. 

It was a fabulous 
interview filled with 
deep introspection 
and humility. 


* | sincerely feel bad 
for him. He's just 
one of a long list of 
people with painkiller 
issues. Veterans (I'm 
one, though minus 
the drug issues) also 
deal with addictions. 
Our relatives, friends, 
classmates and co- 
workers all deal with 
stuff. Leaf is, after 
all, still a human like 
the rest of us. He 
just had a different 
life and path, | think 
the sooner everyone 
stops placing him 

in the spotlight, the 
easier it will be for 
him to move on and 
get better. 


(Online comments 
from PlayboySFW 
-kinja.com.) 


15 


FOR 3 
MONTHS 


up tl with 
tely uncensored. 


THE TEACHINGS OF SCHOENEMAN 
I would like to thank Deborah 
Schoeneman for her excellent and 
refreshing work in PLAYBOY. One thing I 
gleaned from her June Women column (“Is 
She Hot? Are You Rich?") is an under- 
standing of the similar natures of men 
and women: our shared flaws, foibles 
and shortcomings. I think pointing out 
the commonalities between the genders 
will go a long way toward demystify- 
ing and resolving some of the issues we 
have. Women and men will get along a 
lot better without the bull. PLAYBOY speaks 
to younger guys, whom it can influence 
through education and enlightenment. 
Andrew J. Small III 
Taylor, Michigan 


TONY ROBBINS 
I feel inspired after reading the Playboy 
Interview with Tony Robbins (September). 
As a Nevada state prisoner who is forced 
to endure a life of incarceration, I am all 
too familiar with Robbins's words: "It's not 
conditions, it's decisions that shape your 
life." I received more stimulation and sat- 
isfaction from reading his interview than I 
did from glancing at the pictorials. 
Jeremiah Ayala 
Indian Springs, Nevada 


IN PRAISE OF HANNITY 
As a liberal who has watched Sean 
Hannity on Fox News and listened to his 
radio show for many years, I've found 
most of his arguments and viewpoints 
fascinating and thought-provoking. 
After reading his Playboy Interview (July/ 
August), I find him more intriguing than 
ever—and he's damned sexy to boot. 
Robyn Rakkomen 
Berkeley, California 


I give Hannity credit for putting up 
with the unending stream of drivel, dis- 
tortions, half-truths and out-and-out lies 
that form the modern-day liberal-socialist 
mythology. At least we have one person 
to set the record straight from the wide- 
eyed liberal sycophants who perpetuate 
the lies and distortions of our era. 

George Wittenburg 
New Port Richey, Florida 


CONFERENCE OF CHAMPIONS 
Danni Braun from your Girls of the 
Pac 12 (October) is absolutely gorgeous. 
One can only hope a Playmate pictorial 
is in her future. 
Frank Barone 
Beaufort, South Carolina 


The women in Girls of the Pac 12 are 
beautiful. I was particularly surprised that 
you could find girls without any tattoos. 
"Iomorrow, navel rings. 

James Seay 
Richmond, Virginia 


In Girls of the Pac 12 you refer to the 
University of California flagship campus 


as Berkeley. Almost no one except aca- 
demics who probably don't know a first 
down from a touchdown call it that. It is 
Cal or California. 
Stuart Ray 
Glendale, California 


LITERATURE IN NEW JERSEY 
Giancarlo DiTrapano's profile (4 Brief 
History of Junot Díaz, September) is the 
best portrait of Díaz I've read. 
William Johnson 
Newark, New Jersey 


WONDER BRA 

Ican wrap my head around Wonder 
Woman scratching her ass and going to 
the bathroom in "Hero Worship" (After 


ae 


a i 


Wonder Woman stuffing her bra? Inconceivable! 


Hours, September), but there’s no fuck- 
ing way she stuffs her bra. 
Michael W. O’Connor 
Morgantown, Pennsylvania 


PUBLISHED AUTHOR 
I have crossed the Rubicon: I'm at a 

point in my life when I actually look for- 

ward to the articles in this wonderful 

magazine more than the pictures. Trans- 

lation: I'm getting old. Now make my life 

complete and print one of my letters. 
Dan Morrison 
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania 


DORM ROOM MASTER CHEF 

Although your faux Momofuku ramen 
recipe (After Hours, October) is undoubt- 
edly excellent, it's far too complicated 
for the average dorm dweller. Try this 
version instead: 

1 package ramen noodles (I use 

Maruchan, but any brand will do) 

1 can Hormel chili with beans 

1-2 oz. shredded cheese (such as 

American, cheddar or Colby) 

Open noodles and throw away the fla- 
voring packet. Cook noodles until soft, 
then strain. Add chili and cheese. Heat 
till blended. Heaven! 

Rick Jerome 
Denver, Colorado 


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BECOMING 
ATTRACTION 


* "WOMEN HAVE 
to be free," 
says Moroccan 
actress and 
model Zineb 
Oukach. "My 
individuality 

is tied to 
femininity and 
embracing 
sexuality. The 
body is nothing 
to hide." Zineb, 
who can be 
seen in Martin 
Scorsese's The 
Wolf of Wall 
Street, says the 
idea of change 
compels her. "If 
what | do is met 
with criticism, I 
welcome it,” she 
says. "Beauty is 
everywhere." 


- DECEMBER - 
2013 


19 


20 


KING OF 
COMEDY 


TALK | WHAT MATTERS NOW 


LOUIS C.K. USHERS IN A 
STAND-UP RENAISSANCE 


s the joke goes, 
the early-1990s 
stand-up com- 
edy boom was 
so big, TV execs 
handed out development 
deals to comics at the L.A. 
airport like natives bestow- 
ingleis on tourists entering 
Hawaii. Fueled by a glut of tal- 
ent and the absurd success of 
The Cosby Show, comedians 
such as Jerry Seinfeld, Ellen 
DeGeneres and Roseanne 
Barr all found themselves 
with hit sitcoms. On ABC 
alone there was Hangin' With 
Mr. Cooper, Home Improve- 
ment, Grace Under Fire and 
Anything But Love. After 
years on the grueling stand- 
up circuit, more comedians 
turned into superstars—and 
multimillionaires—in the 
1990sthan ever before. 

Then, just like that, the 
joke was over. Reality TV 
exploded, and comedy dried 
up. By 2004 Comedy Cen- 
tral had canceled The Daily 
Show's nightly lead-out, 
Tough Crowd With Colin 
Quinn, an underrated series 
that showcased stand-ups. 
Dave Chappelle walked away 
from his TV series in 2006, 
the same year Fox canceled 
The Bernie Mac Show. What 
little remained of comedy 
was left to Dane Cook and 
Carlos Mencia. 

Today, signs point to a com- 
ing comedy boom the likes 
of which we haven't seen in 
decades. Call it the Louis C.K. 
paradigm: The self-loathing 
superstar is so good, he forces 
other comedians to be better. 
“I always think the quality 


and freshness of the talent 
drive the booms and busts,” 
explains Noam Dworman, 
owner of New York City’s 
Comedy Cellar (yes, from the 
opening credits of Louie). “It 
would be like trying to pre- 
tend the quality 
of the Beatles” 
music was irrele- 
vant to the inter- 
est in rock music 
in the 1960s.” 
Consider Kevin 
Hart. The innately likable 
pint-size comedy rock star 
doesn’t do HBO specials—he 
goes directly to the big screen. 
His latest, Kevin Hart: Let Me 
Explain, pulled in $32 million, 
making it the fourth-highest- 
grossing stand-up theatri- 
cal release of all time, right 


he fo 


dians to be better. 


behind Richard Pryor: Live 
on the Sunset Strip. 

Then there’s Comedy 
Central’s one-two punch of 
Anthony Jeselnik (The Jeselnik 
Offensive) and Amy Schumer 
(Inside Amy Schumer). 
Jeselnik, a former 
А Late Night With 
he Jimmy Fallon 
ogood, writer, has the 
rcome- calculated tone 
of a serial killer, 
which the come- 
dian would likely consider high 
praise. Schumer, Jeselnik's 
former girlfriend, is undeni- 
ably the funniest female comic 
on the planet, with an inno- 
cent smile and a mouth like a 
south Jersey longshoreman’s. 
Her series was renewed for a 
second season right after its 


gif 
premiere. So wasthe FX series 
Legit, featuring Australian 
megacomic Jim Jefferies. 

The real fuel to this laugh 
renaissance seems to be good 
vibes. The aforementioned 
stars have been diligently pay- 
ing it forward. Artie Lange, 
Ricky Gervais and Todd 
Barry have all appeared on 
Louie. Jeselnik has featured 
the incredible Jim Norton, 
Dave Attell and Eric André, 
and Amy Schumer has booked 
Robert Kelly, Jim Florentine 
and Michael Ian Black. 

How long do we have to 
wait before someone creates 
The Bill Burr Show or resur- 
rects Tough Crowd? Laugh 
now—Good Luck Chuck 2 
could be just around the 
corner.—Peter Hoare 


JOINT 


VENTURES 


THE GROWING BUSINESS OF GROWING MARIJUANA 


You and your girlfriend 
just quit your jobs and 
cashed out your sav- 
ingsto sell marijuana. 
Concerned? Now, imagine your 
plan works and you become 
theownersofathriving 
medical-cannabis operation. 

This is one of the scenarios 
encountered by Adam Bier- 
man, founder of the MedMen, a 
Los Angeles consultancy. The 
firm helps medical-cannabis 
dispensaries get off the ground 
by tackling everything from 
business plans and branding to 
trickier kinks such as ordering 
and security. “We've worked 
with an electrician to start 
adispensary in Los Angeles, 

a few guys in the aerospace 
industry who quit their jobs 
to do it, a female RN anda 
blackjack dealer of 25 years in 
Nevada,” Bierman recalls. 

The MedMenis part ofa 
growing number of consultants 
building a framework to under- 
stand the business of weed. In 
the past several years, medical 
cannabis has in many states 
gone from a marginally legal 
endeavor to what one market- 
research firmestimates will be 
a $9 billion industry by 2016. 
The "green rush," as 60 Minutes 
labeled it, is already on in Colo- 
rado, where marijuana is legal, 
regulated and taxed. 

"That market is now satu- 
rated," says Brendan Kennedy, 
CEO and partner at Seattle- 
based investment firm Privateer 
Holdings. Kennedy and partners 
Michael Blue, Christian Groh 
and Tonia Winchester launched 
the only private equity firm 
specializing in acquisition and 
development of cannabis-related 
enterprises after realizingthe 
growing market should be profes- 
sionally addressed. They recently 
bought and expanded Leafly, 
asort of Yelp for pot, complete 
with crowdsourced cannabis- 


strain reviews, curated indus- 
try news and maps to nearby 
medicinal-marijuana clinics. 

Theniche presents unique 
challenges; as Kennedy 
explains, “most successful 
entrepreneurs in this category 
have operated illegally." 

Regardless, marijuana—still 
designated a Schedule 1 drug 
bythe federal government—is 
poised to become a large-scale 
legal market, and moneymen 
are interested in seeing how 
things shake out. Players are 
already taking positions in 
logistics and support, areas 
where they can avoid direct 
legal problems. Firms such as 
Privateer and the MedMen are 
focusing on developing bright, 
clean, inoffensive branding. 

“Brands could fuel change,” 
says Bierman in the optimistic 
tone of an American mega- 
brand marketeer. 

Consultants are also keep- 
ing an eye on regulation and 
tax issues in state and national 
legislatures. Privateer is push- 
ing politicians to see the market 
rationale that most American 
voters already understand: Mar- 
ijuanais a safe, effective medical 
oradults-only product that is 
ready for Main Street, ifnot Wall 
Street. Kennedy says, “People 
see the inevitability of it." 

Big money likes inevitability, 
even if it means risk in the short 
term. For now, Kennedy and 
Bierman are eager to discuss 
the future relationship between 
liquor companies and marijuana 
marketers. Both see dollar signs, 
along with obvious business 
conflicts. Liquor companies 
don’t want to be replaced by 
weed companies, and Bierman 
is quick to mention a study that 
demonstrates a decrease in 
alcohol consumption in areas 
witha legal weed market. 

Your corner liquor store is 
aboutto change.—Erik Stinson 


SN 


HIGH 
TECH 


THREE APPS 
DESIGNED FOR 
THE DAZED AND 
CONFUSED 


The Fatty 

— Spark up the 
official Cheech 
and Chong app: 
it has a sound- 
board and "Kush 
notifications" for 
forgetful stoners. 
FREE 


Weed Farmer 


— Plant and care 
for 30 different 
types of weed 

as your business 
expands from your 
Closet to a massive 
warehouse. 

99€ 


Leafly 


— Rate marijuana 
strains with words 
such as dreamy 
or anxious, and 
find a nearby 
clinic that sells the 
best buds. 

FREE 


Photography by DAN SAELINGER 


Buff 


Monster 


* Atriponthe psyche- 
delicartofBuff Monster 
is a visit to a world of 
talking ice cream cones 
and one-eyed monsters 
doused in the signature 
pink on which he's built 
an empire. After 15 years 
of plastering Los Angeles 
in posters and graffiti, 

he nowlivesin New 

York and creates murals 
for Kidrobot, as well as 
limited-editiontoys and 
T-shirts. “L.A. looked bet- 
ter when I was there,” he 
says, We agree. But he’s 
drenched seven Brooklyn 
walls in pink this year. 
NYC, you're welcome. 
—Tyler Trykowski 


Is the jet-set stereo- 
type of a successful 
artist accurate? 

A: It's the opposite; art- 
ists are loners, slaving 
in their studios. Take my 
Instagram posts with a 
grain of salt, because 
they're the only interest- 
ing thing | did all day. 


Why is pink your 
predominant color? 
A: | love power metal, a 
genre of empowerment, 
and | channel that. As a 
straight guy using a tra- 
ditionally female color, 
I'm acutely aware of a 
female's place in society, 
for good and bad 


Is graffiti a conscious 
reaction to the ubiquity 
of advertising? 

A: That's bullshit. | call 
this "graffiti rhetoric." | 
grew up in Hawaii, where 
billboards are banned. 


What's your favorite 
medium? 
A: Just a brush with 
black ink. | play Opeth 
and it becomes this 
meditative thing, 
focused for hours, not 
knowing how it's going 
to work. It's great. 


How do your idols— 
Haruki Murakami, 
Shepard Fairey, Andy 
Warhol—influence you? 
A: Murakami called his 
contract with Louis 
Vuitton the best art he's 
ever made. Those guys 
understand supply and 
demand and infrastruc- 
ture. | admire that. 


Would you ever go 
back to working illegally? 
A: I'm interested in 
painting different stuff 
now. | don't have energy 
for it. It's so much work. 
Painting at night with 
shit light, how do you 
get your colors right? 
It's a mess. 


TALK | WHAT MATTERS NOW 


SYSTEM SHOCK 


TORTURING YOURSELF OFF FACEBOOK IS AS TOUGH AS 
IT SOUNDS. MEET AN ELECTRIFYING NEW METHOD 


* Just how badly 

do you want to stop 
checking Facebook? 
Are you motivated 
by pain? 

Then click to like 
MIT students Robert 
R. Morris and Dan 
McDuff, creators of 
the ultimate solution 
for social-media 
addiction: Pavlov 
Poke. An electrical- 
charge output is 
connected to your 
computer keyboard, 
and an online app 
monitors your web 
browsing. Spend 
too much time on 
Facebook and— 
zap!—you get a 
shock. To quote 
thecheeky 


promotional video, 
the dose of voltage 
“isunpleasant but 
not dangerous.” 
Physiologist Ivan 
Pavlov would 

be proud. 

“A Clockwork 
Orange was a big 
influence for sure,” 
Morris says. "I'm 
also partial to the 
shock-response 
opening scene of 
Ghostbuster: 


Morris and McDuff's 
experiment may be 
the extreme measure 
we need to curb our 


online use. We spend 
a quarter of our 

time online putzing 
around social media, 
and that number 

is rapidly going up. 
Other studies argue 
that social-media 
ightup 


brain as drugs a 
alcohol despite being 
psychological, not 
physical, stimuli. 
Another sign 
of the times: The 
Bradford Regional 
Medical Centerin 
Pennsylvania just 
opened America's 


first hospital-based 
internet-addiction 
clinic. The 10-day 
stint includes 
extensive multimedia 
detox and psychiatric 
evaluations. The 
rub: Internet 
addiction isn't yet 
acknowledged by 
the notoriously slow 
American Psychiatric 
Association. The 
$14,000 cost comes 
out of your pocket. 
Morris, whois 
finishing a Ph.D. in 
affective computing— 
zap!—says Facebook 
uses "supernormal 
stimuli" to keepus 
addicted. "Candy 
barsareagreat 
example. They offer 
tons of sugar and 
salt—things our 
bodies were evolved 
to crave—but they're 
delivered in a way 
that goes far beyond 


what we'd ever find 
in nature. Similarly, 
Facebook exploits 
our natural desires 
for social approval 
and validation, 
but it does so in a 
highly exaggerated, 
unnatural way. In 
real life, unless 
you're a celebrity, 
people aren't goingto 
compliment you for 
every little thing you 
do. But now there's an OMIC 
app for that. 
He's surprised 
so many people are 
asking for the device, 
but he and McDuff 
have no plans to sell 
it. There seems 
to be legitimate 
demand for this 
product," he says. 
"This suggests that 
Facebook is more 
addictive than we 
thought, or that 
people are more 
tic than we 


masochi 
ever imagined." 
—Damon Brown 


Photography by 
DAN SAELINGER 


5 BOOM 


24 


TRAVEL 


MONTREAL CHILL OUT 


NO OTHER CITY DOES WINTER AS 
WELL AS CANADA'S CAPITAL OF COOL 


* Some cities go 
into hibernation 

in the winter, but 
Montreal embraces 
it, pouring another 
drink or dishing 


up another plate of rugged stuff for and latte foam art. 
meaty sustenance guys such as vin- Here Boulangerie 
for every degree the tage Levi's jeans, Guillaume 
thermometer drops. National Athletic offers the best 
Plus, downtown's Goods sweatshirts damn bread in 

20 miles of tunnels and Stanley & Sons the city. Order a 
help you beat the bandannas. white- chocolate 
cold as you traverse Food is fuel brioche and hot 
the city. at locally loved cup of coffee, 

Check in to Hotel Schwartz's, a then make your 
Gault, a contempo- classic deli that for way to Librairie 
rary remodel of a more than 80 years Drawn & Quarterly 
heritage building has served smoked- Bookstore to peruse 
in Old Montreal (1 meat sandwiches graphic novels, 

It’s spacious, bright, packing a garlicky independent comics 
thankfully free of punch (2). You’re and anthologies. 
historic chintz and in Mile End, These days one 
furnished with the old Jewish need only look 


neighborhood 
that has spent the 
past decade or so 


modern design morphing into a 

classics from lively mix of artists, 

Eames and Bertoia. musicians and 
Bundle up at artisan stalwarts; 


nearby Rooney, 
which carries 


it's equal parts 
Hasidic sidelocks 


Snow Cycle 


r-round public bike 


king stations 


ity. Pedal into the 


night to work up a sweat and a 
mean thirst 


for abandoned 
warehousesina 
neglected indus- 
trial zone to know 
where the next 
up-and-coming 
neighborhood 
will be born. In 
Montreal it’s the 
no-man's land 


Pole Position 
Wanda's 
ub for voyeur 
steak an 
prominent hockey 
forget to tip th: 


between Mile 
End and Parc 
Extension. The 
sign of hipster- 
dom to come? 
Well-appointed 
mustaches. Empo- 
rium Barber is 
filled with hirsute, 
straight-razor- 
wielding gents 
ready to smother 
you with hot towels 
and hangover treat- 
ments. Take a quick 
side trip to nearby 
Dinette Triple 
Crown, a beat-up 
take-out counter 
with a few stools 
and hot dishes 
served by cute girls 
in pinafores. Get 
thejohnnycakes 
topped with crispy 
pig's ear, maple 


syrup and créme 
fraiche. Then see 
what's going on at 
Casa del Popolo 
and La Sala Rossa, 
cultural-rec-room 
slash live-music 
venues for indie, 
free jazz, rock-and- 
roll and soon-to-be- 
big Canadian acts. 
Ready for a 
proper meal and 
nightcap? Grab 
aseatat La Salle 
à Manger (3) for 
amodern take 
oncarnivorous 
Quebecois cuisine, 
then head over to 
Baldwin Barmacie 
(4) for a well- 
crafted cocktail 
totakethe chill 
off while you chill 
out.—Jeralyn Gerba 


ga,» 


Starch Search 


Come morninc 


hit St-Viateur 
e right: swe 


hand-rolled, honey- 
od-fired rings of 
dough. What hangover? 


URS 


DRINK RESPONSIBLY. 
DISTILLED IN MEXICO. HORNITOS® TEQUILA, 4096ALC./VOL- Y T T 
©2013 SAA TEQUILA IMPORT COMPANY, DEERFIELD, IL 60015 www.GrabLifebytheHornitos.com 


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NOT JUST ANY 
HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE 


What's more festive than a gift that celebrates convivial cocktailing? We've p 
a unique gift guide for everyone on your list. Just be ready for a toast in your: 


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FOR THE 
TRAVELER 


For the jet set cocktail connoisseur 
who wants to travel in style and 
keep his companions satiated, 
consider an on-the-go bar kit— 
complete with shaker, muddler, 
jigger, tumblers and linen cocktail 
napkins all nestled in a 
canvas-and-leather carpenter's 
bag. It's a great marriage of 
vintage Americana and 
contemporary innovation. 


FOR THE 
COLLECTOR 


A monogram is the true mark 
of a gentleman and shouldn't 
just be reserved for stationary 
or cufflinks. For a personalized 
gift, consider a laser-engraved 
stainless steel shaker— 
guaranteeing an understated 
yet chic conduit for those 
cocktail claims to fame. 


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FOR THE 
ENTERTAINER 


Turn any tabletop into a bar cart with 

a bar tray. Most festive in shiny finishes 
like silver for an Art Deco feel or 
mirrored to evoke your inner Gatsby, 
these are the sorts of handsome 
decorating pieces that beckon cocktail 
hour because anything you set on them, 
from bottles to glassware, looks that 
much more inviting. 


FOR THE 
SECRET SANTA 
Want a cool gift that's 
sophisticated and inexpensive? 
It's all about a wooden cocktail 
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WINTER SOLSTICE 

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2/3 PARTS GREEN CHARTREUSE 

1 PART FRESH LIME JUICE 


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2 PARTS HORNITOS* REPOSADO TEQUILA 
2 PARTS FRESH LIME JUICE 

1 PART SIMPLE SYRUP 

1 PART TRIPLE SEC 

Combine all ingredients in mixing glass, SPICY BLOODY MARY MIX (FOR DRIZZLE) 
add ice, shake and strain into a cockteil 
glass. Garnish with a lime twist. Shake and dump ingredients in a glass over 
ice. Drizzle with spicy bloody mary mix. 


FOOD 


THE NEW 
OYSTER CULT 


WITH OYSTERS EMERGING ON MENUS 
EVERYWHERE, HERE'S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW 


^: Hama Hama, Beau Soleil, Kusshi. The names of 
these briny, succulent oysters delight. And they can \ 
confound, given thatthere are dozens of varieties 
available. The reality is there are only five species 
of oyster, and at most restaurants you're likely to 
find only three: Kumamoto, Atlantic and Pacific. 
(The other two—intense European flats and tiny 
Olympias—are far more rare.) The next time you order 
a dozen, ask the server to split them up according to 
the categories shown here. Keep this up and pretty 
soon you'll know a Lone Point from an Olde Salt. 


ATLANTIC 


>» Oysters grown Tastes like 
on the Eastern » These typically 
seaboard are have a seawater- 
the most widely like saltiness and 
available—think tend to be firm 
Wellfleets, in texture. 
Malpeques аңа 

Blue Points. 


^... PACIFIC 


>» The past. 
decade has seen 
the farming of 
more varieties 
than ever before 
in the Pacific 
Northwest. The 
Pacific Ocean's 
lower salinity lets 
3 > more true oyster 
e i flavor come 


j KUMAMOTO : " d through. 

> With a fluted Tastes like É : y Tastes like 
shell and a deep > Sweet, tender 1 P i > Creamier and 
cup, this diminu- and not too 327 sweeter than 

tive and delicious salty, Kumamoto az 7 Atlantic oysters, 
Japanese oyster oysters are fruity Я E р Pacifics can taste 
stands apart from and evoke the > 2 p ” of butter, melon 
other species. It's flavor.of a fresh S "E. i 1 and minerals. 


the best bivalve 


2 " cucumber. 
for first-timers. 


* If yowre bold enough to shuck your own oysters, equip E 

yourself with a steel-mesh glove and a good oyster 

knife. The New Haven knife by Massachusetts-based 
Murphy is the gold standard. ($14, rmurphyknives.co 


PS E N аз = > 


R. MURPHY 
MADE IN USA 
STAINLESS. 


"e 


Cishan Kiei 


a new fragránce Calvin Klein 


©2013 Calvin Klein Cosmetic Corporation Dark Obsession" 


ONE- 
TWO 
PUNCH 


A TOP MIXOLOGIST REVEALS 
THE FORMULA FOR MAKING 
POTENT HOLIDAY PUNCH 


» With the holidays upon us, 

it's time to transport yourself 
back to the 17th century for a 
quick lesson in entertaining en 
masse. Just as every gentleman 
should be able to shake up a 
proper whiskey sour or stir a 
perfect manhattan, some basic 
punch skills need to be part of 
your arsenal. The word punch 

is believed to be derived from 
the Hindi word for “five,” the 
number of key ingredients in 
most punches—those being 
Spirits, citrus, sweetener, water 
and spice. You can use just 
about whatever you have on 
hand to create a great punch. It's 
all about balance, as outlined in 
the adage “One of sour, two of 
sweet, three of strong and four 
of weak." Here are three recipes 
to get you started on your merry 


30  way.—Charles Joly 


THE LADLE WILL ROCK 


Charles Joly, beverage director of Chicago's Aviary and owner 
of Crafthouse cocktails, created these recipes. Combine 
ingredients in a punch bowl and add a block of ice. 


How Long The Guild Walnut 

Lima? Meeting Room Punch 

* 10 oz. brut * 16 oz. strong * 10 oz. brewed 
rosé cava chai tea, chilled chamomile 

* 7% oz. pisco + 6 oz. overproof tea, chilled 
(such as La American 8 oz. gin 
Diablada or whiskey (Joly prefers 
Campo de * 4 oz. fresh Tanqueray 
Encanto) orange juice No. 10) 

+ 33 oz. Lillet * 2 oz. fresh * 6 oz. fresh 
Rouge (or lemon juice lemon juice 
Cocchi di * 20z. ginger * 6 oz. sparkling 
Torino) liqueur white wine 

" s Bic Ire *20z.Drambuie * 402. simple 
emon juice 5 syrup 

* $35 oz. simple Б сос асна + 4 oz. white 
syrup vermouth 


+ м oz. absinthe 


* 6strips orange 
peel 


Photography by SATOSHI 


FOOD STYLING BY ED GABRIELS AT HALLEY RESOURCES 


EVERY ARTICLE YOU VE READ 
(AND EVERY ONE YOU PRETENDED Т0) 


Access the ultimate stack of Playboys, from the first issue 
to the latest, only on iPlayboy. 


¡PLAYBOY 


iplayboy.com 


32 


STYLE 


1 


Tourbillon 
> Gravity can 
throw a watch out of 

synch. The tourbil- 

lon, an 18th century 
invention, spins and 

rotates to counter- 
act gravity's pull. 


ABOUT 
TIME 


THIS SKELETON WATCH 
IS WORTH $165,000. WHY, 
EXACTLY? IT'S COMPLICATED 


* Sure, you could just 

use your iPhone to 
checkthe time. Or, with 
the proper funds, you 
could join the ranks 

of obsessive aesthetes 

who collect gorgeous 
handmade—and fully 
analog—works of art. 
Italian firm Panerai is 
among the world's top 
watch manufacturers, 

and its Lo Scienziato 
Radiomir Tourbillon 
(pictured) is one 

ofthe most badass 
precision timepieces 

ever crafted. In the pa 
world of watches 

(a.k.a. horology), > 
added features and 
movements, knownas 
“complications,” drive 
up the price. Here's 
what makes this 

watch tick. 


Ceramic 
Not only is a 
ceramic watchcase 
lighter, harder 
and more scratch 
resistant than a 
steel case, it also 
looks tough. 


Baby Got 
Back 


— The photo 
above actually < — — Jewels 
shows the back I => Sapphires and 
— 
of the watch, — — Á—- rubies are placed 
which we think at key points to 


reduce friction. The 
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MOVIE OF THE MONTH 


AMERICAN HUSTLE 


By Stephen Rebello 


BETTIE PAGE 
REVEALS ALL 


By Stephen Rebello 


Mark Mori, the producer- 
director of a new Bettie 
Page documentary, 
discovers the woman 
behind the pinup queen, 


Q: Where do you place 
Bettie Page—who 
provides offscreen 
narration for your film 
Bettie Page Reveals All— 
in pop-culture history? 
A: She was the greatest 
photographic model 

in history. Aside from 
her extraordinary looks 
and figure, she posed 
so naturally before 

the camera, and her 
incredibly charismatic 
personality is all there— 
there's no artifice. 

She's sexy and hot, but 
she's wholesome and 
innocent, so there is 
nothing pornographic 
about her photographs. 
She's a revered icon 

to every "outside" 
subculture. 

Q: Page had bouts of 
mental illness the public 
never knew about. How 
did she feel about your 
pulling back the curtain? 
A: We established a 
good rapport, but she 


In American Hustle, man FBI agent played perate things to survive ofthe most closely held RE 
director David O. by Bradley Cooper who in atough economy not people. Asan actor, this movie were never 
Russell takes a satiric coerces them into going unlike what we have he does 180 degrees made. Even back in 
swipe ata group of undercover and put- now,” says Russell. “My because he has to wear the 1950s, she avoided 
eccentrics swept up in ting the bite on some intention is to grab his heart on his sleeve. I ore аруа dio 
thenotorious1970sFBI high-levelcrooks and people with characters like going to the hearts recordings of БЕШТ 
sting operation known scammers. The film is who make you think,. Oh of these characters. ex-boyfriends talking 
as Abscam. Based on also a field day for stars shit, who are these peo- Some may call emotion about their relationships 
ascreenplay by Eric Jennifer Lawrence, ple? But they have big corny if they want, but and what having sex ^ 
Warren Singer and Jeremy Renner, Robert hearts, so you wind up Irespondto emotion EA е as S 
Russell, the film offers a De Niro and Louis С.К. loving them and wanting when its real, like in has 70 before 
meaty,eccentricroman- Its less about the real to hang out with them. The Fighter and Silver а: What should people 
tie triangle involving events than it is about Itwas exciting for all of Linings Playbook. This remember about Page? 
con artists played by abunch of messed-up, them to do things they movie isacompanion A: That she was 
ChristianBaleandAmy struggling charged hadn't done before— to those, an evolution of self-effacing and 
Adams and the wild- people doing wild, des- especially Renner, one the same kind of film.” not egotistical. Her 


incredible worldwide 
popularity remained a 
mystery to her to her 
dying day. She brought 
joy to so many people, 
but she really never 
knew joy herself. It's 
almost as if she suffered 
for the greater good of 
the world. 


THE HOBBIT: THE 
DESOLATION OF SMAUG 


3 Part two of Peter Jackson's 
Hobbit trilogy features 13 
dwarves hell-bent on reclaiming 
their kingdom, giant forest 
spiders, lan McKellen's Gandalf 
wizardry and a ferocious dragon 
that sounds amazingly like 
Benedict Cumberbatch 


INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS 


OLDBOY 
— Spike Lee remakes Chan- 


> This tragicomedy from the 
Coen brothers, set in the 1960s wook Park's 2003 balls-out cult 4 e 
NYC folk scene, features Oscar classic and casts Josh Brolin 4 ) | 
Isaac as а singer dealing with a for this nervy do-over. Samuel / í á 
prickly ex-lover (Carey Mulligan) / 

and her singing partner (Justin [ 

Timberlake), a druggy jazzman 
(John Goodman) and a jaded 


producer (F. Murray Abraham). 


L. Jackson, Sharlto Copley and 
Elizabeth Olsen are part of the 
very wild ride when Brolin's char- 
acter unleashes fury on his ene- 


| 
mies after 20 years of captivity. \ \ | 
\ ! 
узн A 


12 MEDIA MUST-HAVES 


By Greg Fagan 


1 
THE DARK KNIGHT 
TRILOGY ULTIMATE 
COLLECTOR'S ED. 

* This Bat-tastic 

set has all three 
Christopher Nolan- 
directed Batman 
films, a photo book, 
frameable prints 
and three mini Bat- 
vehicles. $700 


% 

Х-МЕМ: ТНЕ 

ADAMANTIUM 

COLLECTION 

* The Wolverine 
oins the five earlier 
-Men outings and 

an hour-long doc 


exclusive to this set. 


Plus, replica claws! 
$200 


3. 
DEXTER: THE 
COMPLETE SERIES 


*Showtime's serial 
killer gets two sets 
one enclosed in a 
slide box, the other 
in a limited edition 
white bust that's 

a little unnerving 


4. 
DOCTOR WHO 
COMPLETE SERIES 1-7 


Its the U.S. Blu-ray 
debut for the first two 
modern Doctors— 
Christopher Eccleston 
and David Tennant— 
collected with Matt 
Smith's now complete 
run and a universal 
remote control dis- 
guised as the Doctor's 
sonic screwdriver. 
Splendid. $350 


5. 
BREAKING BAD: 

THE COMPLETE SERIES 

+ The formula for this boxed set 

the series discs with all their bonus 
features, a new documentary, a 
booklet, a challenge coin and a Los 
Pollos Hermanos apron—in a replica 
money barrel. Like the show starring 
Bryan Cranston, it's great. $225 


6. 

GAME OF THRONES 
SEASON 3 LIMITED 
EDITION 

* Okay, so this 
Amazon-exclusive 
limited edition adds 
$50 to the price of 
the regular Blu-ray 
set. But the dragon 
sculpture is just too 
cool to ignore. What 
would the Khaleesi, 
Mother of Dragons, 
do? $130 


7. 
BRUCE LEE LEGACY 
COLLECTION 

"There's no better 
way to appreciate 
Lee's singular screen 
charisma than with 
this nearly compre- 
hensive package (it 
lacks only Enter the 
Dragon). Get the 
October-released set 
with Blu-rays cut from 
superior HD masters. 
Two documentaries 
and a disc with hours 
of bonus footage are 
included. $120 


8. 

THE WIZARD OF OZ 
75TH ANNIVERSARY 
COLLECTION 

“The classic 1939 
film's subtle yet effec- 
tive 3-D conversion 
(it played theaters 
for a week earlier this 
year) debuts on Blu- 
ray 3-D in this boxed 
set that scores with 
an array of fan- and 
fam-friendly swag, 
How about ruby slip- 
pers on a snow globe, 
Scarecrow? $105 


9. 10. 

WEEDS: THE THE VINCENT 
COMPLETE PRICE COLLECTION 
COLLECTION + This set offers 


Blu-ray debuts of 


ч fa S b 
Bie faux puds or Price's six best 


logo-emblazoned 
roach clips here, 
just 102 episode 
of sly, smart and 
often hilarious 

TV, with a "glow- 
ing" clear acrylic 
Cover. New bonus 
docs reflect on the 
series and Mary- 
Louise Parker's 
MILFy allure. $120 


Roger Corman: 
The Abominable 
Dr. Phibes, The Fall 
of the House of 
Usher, The Pit and 
the Pendulum, The 
Masque of the Red 
Death, 

Palace and Witch- 
finder General. 


films with producer 


The Haunted 


Terrific cheese. $80 


n. 
PACIFIC RIM 3-D 
LIMITED EDITION 


* Years from now 
people will realize 
that Guillermo del 
Toro's robots-vs.- 
monsters movie was 
this summer's most 
satisfying popcorn 
flick. When that 
happens, ownin: 

this edition, with 

its cool Jaeger fac- 
simile box, will show 
everyone how ahead 
of the curve you 
were. $65 


12. 

MAN OF STEEL 
COLLECTIBLE 
FIGURINE LIMITED 
EDITION GIFT SET 
«You will believe an 
iconic DC Comics 
franchise can get 
rebooted—and enjoy 
Zack Snyder's film- 
making handiwork in 
this limited edition 
Blu-ray and DVD set 
that includes hand- 
painted figurines 

of Superman and 
General Zod. $60 


$460, $545 
чє 
) 5 
MUST-SEE TV 


TV GIVES GIFTS TOO 


By Josef Adalian 


BONNIE & CLYDE 


* Nobody will ever oftheinfamous 

top Warren Beatty story. Director Bruce 
and Faye Dunaway Beresford (Driving 
inthe 1967 classic, Miss Daisy) casts 

but Emile Hirsch and Bonnieasa sort of 
Holliday Grainger do proto-Kardashian fame 
asolid job bringing whore who considers 
to life the murderous her outrageous exploits 
Depression-era duo in ameans to immortality. 
yet another retelling Guess it worked. ¥¥¥ 


BILL COSBY: 
FAR FROM FINISHED 


* Christmas comes 
early this year: Bill 


Show. Directed by 
Robert Townsend 


Cosby is back with and taped over the 
his first stand-up summer, here's what 
special since 1983's you need to know 
Himself the land- about the new spe- 
mark concert that cial: It's Bill Cosby, 
laid the groundwork he's telling jokes and 
for what would it's free. Go set your 


become The Cosby 


DVR-now. ¥¥¥¥ 


MOB CITY 


* It's probably impossible to produce 
a Mafia-themed show without some 
elements feeling clichéd, but TNT's 
six-hour miniseries from Frank 
Darabont (The Walking Dead) does 

a great job transcending the tropes 
of a well-worn genre. The basic 

story is familiar: Dedicated cops in 
the corrupt LAPD of the late 1940s 
battle gun-toting gangsters including 
Bugsy Siegel and Mickey Cohen. 

But Darabont makes an epic saga 
personal by focusing on Joe Teague 
(Walking Dead alum Jon Bernthal), 
an ex-marine turned detective whose 
motives and morals are decidedly 
cloudy. The production boasts a 
stunning L.A. noir look, capturing 
midcentury detail with nearly as 
much style as Mad Men. ¥¥¥¥ 


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ENTERTAINMENT 


BOOKS 


PHYSICAL PRINT 


By Leopold Froehlich 


* We all hear about the death of 
print, but that's an outmoded 
notion. Certain books work fine 
ona Nook or Kindle—or even 
on your Android. But some 
special books work best when 
you hold them in your hands 
and reflect on the glory of ink 
on paper. Here are three we 
recommend for your holiday 
shopping. The Libertine: The 
Art of Love in Eighteenth- 
Century France (1) isthe 
most seductive book published 


this year. With 496 pages of 
erotic paintings and text, it's 

a boudoir coffee-table book 
that will put your guests in the 
proper frame of mind. The Art 
of Rube Goldberg (2): Over 
the course of his incredible 
career, Goldberg (1883-1970) 
drew and constructed a vari- 
ety of crazy machines that 
parodied America's mania for 
mechanization. The drawings 
and cartoons in this sumptuous 
volume should keep any gear- 


head occupied for days. Speak- 
ingof American manias, Hugh 
Hefner's Playboy (3) might 
be considered the best survey 
ofour national sexuality in the 
20th century. In six volumes 
(and 1,910 pages), this boxed set 
presents the history of PLAYBOY 
as seen through the eyes of its 
farseeing founder. In many 
ways, this is Hef's illustrated 
autobiography; the pictures and 
drawings of his Chicago youth 
are alone worth the $150 price. 


= GM RR 
Ow Ar - Lue at de BAC Volume 2 


ALBUM OF THE MONTH 


THE BEATLES: 
ON AIR VOL. 2 


By Rob Tannenbaum 


* Theonly certain things are death, 
taxes and another Beatles album in time 
for Christmas. A hundred years from 
now, new compilations will keep Ringo 
Starr's great-great-great-grandson in 
jetpacks. The band recorded hundreds 
of songs for the BBC; On Air Vive at the 
BBC Volume 2 collects 40 from 1963 and 
1964, intermixed with cheerful banter 
between the lads and DJs. Most songs 
are previously unreleased, including a 
ska-like version of “Beautiful Dreamer.” 
On “Twist and Shout” Lennon and 
McCartney, unsure of how long their 
careers will last, lean hard on the vocals, 
pushing toward posterity. ¥¥¥ 


ROBERT 
STONE 


With his latest novel, 
Death of the Black-Haired 
Girl, Robert Stone returns 
with a dark tale of cam- 
pus life. His best work 
since Damascus Gate? 


@: This is your first novel 
set in academe, right? 
A: That's true. Some 

of Bay of Souls takes 
place in a Midwestern 
academic environment, 
but this has the whole 
thing coming home to 
roost in an elite college. 


@: It's a decidedly 
anticlerical book. 

A: In large measure it's 
anticlerical, but | don't 
think it's antireligious. 
It's certainly not 
friendly toward 
organized religion's 
present crusade in 
terms of abortion. 


Q: What's the worst 
thing about having a 
book published? 

A: Exposing your 

stuff to the scorn and 
contempt of the world. 
I've felt lucky to be able 
to make my living as a 
writer. The worst thing, 
1 guess, is rejection. 
Young writers starting 
out have a difficult time 
now. It's a hard way to 
make a living. 


Q: What's your next 
book going to be? 

A: l've started on a sea 
story about people on 
a charter boat. | don't 
know how far I'm going 
to get with it, but I'm 
enjoying working on it. 
| hope to finish before 
too long. 


Q: Do you understand 
why Philip Roth has 
decided to retire from 
writing? 

A: If he says he's going 
to retire, I'm not going 
to question it, but we'll 
see whether he's able to 
carry out that intention. 
His work can be so 
wonderful, so rewarding. 
I'd be ready to see more. 


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one most- 
AFTER abandoned Great Gatsby, ТОР THREE REASONS астрон 
READING book: Fifty by F. Scott FOR ABANDONING lining from the 

pers рео) Fitzgerald BOOKS: damaging effects 
* Total (1209 copies) of alcohol and 
number y Finished reading and left reduce ulcer size 
of books it for others. by up to 50%. 
abandoned 


in Travelodge 
rooms in a year: 
* Energy drinks Bad Luck 


consumed at the 
* Every Friday the 
22,648 : 2015 QuakeCon 13th an estimated 


computer game $700 million to 
Holy Sheet 1 E Y 


кошо: $800 million in 
travel, retail and 
business sales 
is lost due to 

+ Job growth for music directors and 

composers over the past 1O years 

(thanks to the popularity of video 
games and mobile apps). 


superstition. 


(1,027 GALLONS) 


License to Thrill Amount origi- 
* Amount paid at nally paid for 


auction for the Lotus the abandoned 
Esprit submarine car storage locker 
from the 1977 James where the car 


Bond movie The Spy was found in 
* Number of times Who Loved Me: 1989: $100 


the average single \ 
$968 000 * One in every 275 women ages 20 to 54 
9 in America has had breast augmentation. 


man changes his 
E F 


sheets per year. 


United States Bonus fact: 
(6 hours, 31 minutes) 30% of U.K. respondents reported 
á sleeping naked, compared with 
12% in the U.S. 
Canada 
" (7 hours, 3 minutes) 
Drive Me Crazy 
* In congested urban areas, 40% of 
total gas consumption is caused by нао 
searching for parking. Я 
6 minutes) Јарап 
(6 hours, 
22 minutes) 
UPIN 
SMOKE 


60% 52% 


of Americans of Americans 

say the federal believe the use 

government of marijuana 

should not should be Most sleep on 
enforce its legal. e work nights 


marijuana laws 
in states that 


Least sleep on 
permit pot use. ө р 


work nights 


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* Engine: 3-liter twin-turbo V6 
* Horsepower: 345 

* Zero to 60 mph: 5.4 seconds 
* Top speed: 163 mph 

* MPG: est. 18 city/25 hwy. 

* Tag: $65,600 


THE ITALIAN JOB 


MASERATI TAKES ON THE GERMAN JUGGERNAUTS WITH ITS 
FIRST-EVER "AFFORDABLE" SEDAN—AND IT'S A BEAUTY 


The first thing you see when you slip into $65,600. (The most affordable Maserati (Europeans will see the first-ever clean 
a Maserati is that trident logo staring at on the market in the U.S. today is the diesel Maserati, but we won't have it here.) 
you from the center of the steering wheel. $102,000 Quattroporte.) That puts the car We find the car's lines gorgeous—nothing 
Then you smell the Italian leather. There's into consideration for anyone checking cheap-looking here—and the base model 
something unmistakably royal about this out the Audi A6, the BMW 5 Series or V6 hits 60 mph in under six seconds. 
automobile. Now, however, you won't have the Mercedes-Benz E-Class. The Ghibli The company won't manufacture the 
to be royalty to own one. Maserati has range will include a base 345-horsepower car in numbers anywhere near what the 
announced that the new Ghibli will arrive twin-turbo three-liter V6 and an 594 all- Germans are doing, so count on standing 
in the U.S, at an unprecedented price of wheel-drive version upgraded to 404 hp. out if you manage to snag one. 


1 


RENAULT TWIZY FI diffuser, Kinetic Energy 


Recovery System anda 


A concept microcar quartet of racing tires, 
decked out with Formula all inspired by Renault- 
One accents—a front powered F1 cars. Our 
splitter, rear wing and take? Weird! 


SMALL 


WONDERS 2 


SMART FOURJOY concept four-seater to 


join the Smart Fortwo. 


А With an eye toward We can think of one 
э So much for the micro- increasing sales, Smart good use for its space- 
car boom experts were recently unveiled a age rear love seat. 


talking about years ago. 
Microcars (the Smart 
Fortwo, specifically) 
are still nearly as rare as 
supercars. But manufac- 
turers aren't giving up. 


3 


Here's a pair of new con- 
cepts, plus a runabout to 
buy right now. 


The diminutive 500 seats 
four, gets decent mileage 
and costs barely more than 


a Smart Fortwo at $16,100. 
Plus, it has enough power 
for you to hurl it around 
Corners as if it were a toy— 
in a good way. 


ALTITUDE SLICKNESS 


CAN A MASSACHUSETTS-BASED START-UP FINALLY SOLVE THE 
CONUNDRUM OF THE FLYING CAR? LET'S TAKE OFF 


+ “The flying car’ has become a 
pop icon of a dream that never 
comes true,” reads amission 
statement for Massachusetts- 
based company Terrafugia. 
“Until now.” Bold words until 
you consider that this past sum- 
merthe start-up formed by MIT- 
trained space geeks and MBAs 
staged the first public demon- 
stration ofits Transition—a 
flying car that runs on gaso- 
line, can fit in your garage and 
has folding wings and arear- 
mounted prop (footage avail- 
able at Terrafugia.com). On the 


THE JETSONS 
(1962) 
* George works 
two hours a week 
and commutes in 
this adorable green 
machine 


MARVEL 
STRANGE TALES 
#159 (1967) 


* The S.H.I.E.L.D. 
flying car, invented by 
Tony Stark at Stark 
Industries. 


road, the rear-wheel-drive two- 
seater can cruise at highway 

speed, and the company claims 
35 mpg. The driver uses regular 


foot pedals and asteering wheel. 


The wings unfold slowly, simi- 
lar to the way a hardtop con- 
vertible stows its roof, and the 
car takes off as a Cessna would. 
The company claims a cruising 
speed in flight of 100 mph and 
arange of more than 400 miles. 
For safety, the Transition packs 
air bags and a parachute. Ifall 
this sounds fanciful, it should. 
Even CEO Carl Dietrich admits 


BLADE RUNNER 
(1982) 

* Flying cop cars 
patrol in the year 
2019—not so 
futuristic anymore. 


itis “no short-term endeavor." 
The company began work on the 
Transition in 2006 and aimsto 
start selling it soon at an esti- 
mated $279,000. You can put 
your name on alist now. Bonus: 
Terrafugia is already at work 
onits next vehicle, the TF-X 
(pictured), a four-seat flying 
carthat will take off vertically 
from your driveway. It will, the 
company claims, be “statisti- 
cally safer than driving a mod- 
ern automobile." Your neighbors 
will be impressed and your 
commute much shorter. 


BACK TO THE 
FUTURE (1985) 


time machine 
DeLorean takes 
flight 


* Dr. Emmett Brown's 


THAT'S 
HOW YOU 
ROLL 


NEW AIRLESS-TIRE 


CONCEPTS ARE SET 
TO REINVENT 
THE WHEEL 


^ In the past 10 
years, engineers have 
transformed the art of 
driving by reimagining 

every component 

of the automobile— 
radar systems, hybrid 
drivetrains, nav 
systems, stability 
control, key fobs, even 
the radio and door 
handle. So why are we 
still motoring around on 
tire technology that's 
more than 160 years 
old? Scottish inventor 
Robert Thomson 
patented the pneumatic 
tire in 1846, and we're 
still using the concept 
today—but perhaps not 
for long. Bridgestone 
has in the works a 
nonpneumatic concept 
tire (pictured above) 
composed of a metal 
hub and rubber tread 
connected by a woven 
spoke system made of 
reusable thermoplastic 
resin. Michelin has a 
similar concept it's 
calling the X-Tweel 
SSL. The X-Tweel won 
a silver medal this 
year at the Edison 
Awards, which honor 
innovative technology 
in the consumer market 
space. What's the big 
idea? With an airless 
tire you won't have to 
worry about punctures 
or maintaining tire 
pressure. And airless 
tires are eco-friendly 
because they're made 
of reusable materials 
and will last longer than 
pneumatic tires—two 
to three times longer, 
according to Michelin. 
Keep an eye out for 
these beauties further 
down the road. 


43 


MANTRACK 


OUTFITTER 


BREW IT YOURSELF 


HOME BREWING IS AS EASY AS CRACKING OPEN A BEER. 
PLUS, YOU GET TO CRACK OPEN A BEER AT THE END 


* There is nothing more satisfying than enjoying a cold beer after ajob well 
done—that is, unless you brewed the beer yourself. If you've never thought 
about home brewing, consider this: Most home brewers make five-gallon 
batches, roughly equivalent to two 24-packs of 12-ounce bottles. It's easy 
and cost-effective and culminates in a whole lot of beer. “Home brewingis 
fun, plus the result is agreat-tasting beerthat can be shared with friends,” 
says Gary Glass, director ofthe American Homebrewers Association 
(homebrewersassociation.org). "Expect an elevation in your social status." 
Cheers to your new hobby.—John Marrin 


Gear Up 

— Beginner kits 
start at around $80 
for a basic setup. 
Contents generally 
include five-gallon 
fermentation 
buckets, air locks 
and spigots, 
sanitizer, bottle 
brush, bottle 
capper and a bag of 
bottle caps. Some 
kits also include 
ingredients for your 
first batch: brewer's 
yeast, hops and 
toasted grains. 


Stay Clean 


It is essential to 
sterilize your equip- 
ment. The good 
news: "There are no 
known pathogens 
that can live in beer, 
so as long as you 
don't overindulge, 
you won't get sick," 
says Glass. Start 
with a porter or a 
stout. "Those are 
the easiest to make. 
Brew a few batches 
before taking on 
funkier beers like 
lambics." 


Bottle Up 


Brewing isa 
straightforward 
process. You soak 
the ingredients 

in heated water, 
then strain the 
liquid and pour it 
into a fermenta- 
tion container. 

Let it sit for about 
two weeks. Once 
you've bottled, 
you'll have to wait 
until bubbles build 
up again, which 
can be another 
few weeks 


Go Nuts 


After you've 
successfully 
brewed a few 
simple batches, 
it's time to get 
creative. "You can 
use pretty much 
any ingredient 

you can imagine," 
Glass says. Fruits, 
nuts and spices are 
all fair game. How 
crazy can you get? 
"| once sampled 

a brew made with 
Thai curry. It was 
amazing." 


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48 


very time I see one of those 

amazing ads for Call of Duty or 

Grand Theft Auto—more com- 

plex and otherworldly than 

any movie trailer—I wonder 
why I stopped playing video games. Then 
I remember: puberty. I'm a shy, socially 
anxious guy, and until hormones pro- 
pelled me to withstand stomach pains to 
make friends, get money and meet girls, 
I channeled all my skills into avoiding 
leaving the house. I read a lot, watched 
a ton of TV and mastered video games 
on my Atari 2600. Activision mailed me 
iron-on patches after I sent in photos of 
my TV showing high scores in Pitfall!, Ka- 
boom!, Decathlon and Ice Hockey. When my 
parents forced me to go out with friends, 
Neil Cohen and I would go to the mall, 
where I would head straight to the arcade 
and ostentatiously stretch out during the 
cartoons between Ms. Pac-Man levels, so 
proud was I of having seen them so many 
times. I can still beat any high score on a 
Ms. Pac-Man machine solely on muscle 
memory. Because my muscles have no 
idea how to throw a baseball. 

It's lazy to say I don't play video games 
anymore because I’m too busy. I’m not too 
busy to watch porn, tweet, cook or read 
magazines. It's equally inaccurate for me to 
claim that, because I'm not good with spa- 
tial relationships and I don't like violence, 
the industry's move to first-person-shooter 
games drove me out: Plenty of great sports 
and adventure games are still being made. 
And it's not that I've somehow gotten too 
cool to game. In fact, as I've stayed the 
same level of nerd, gaming has become 
socially acceptable. Aisha Tyler talks 
about games nonstop; the game reviewer 
for this magazine's website is also Miss 
October 2012; my mother, who I wish 
were separated by more words from the 
rest of this sentence, plays some kind of 


Breakout-looking game on her cell phone 
whenever she's not talking on it. 

Not loving science fiction and superhero 
stories isn't much of an excuse either. If 
I like Christopher Nolan's Batman series, 
then there are undoubtedly games that 
tell stories Га love. Tyler says she cried 
at the endings of Gears of War 3 and The 
Walking Dead. BioShock Infinite apparently 
deals with г; religion, utopias 
and quantum mechanics. There are as 
many online arguments about its ending 
as there are about Gravitys Rainbow. 
People record their bewildered faces as 
they finish the game and post them on 
YouTube. Which means there are not 
only people who make time for video 
games but also people who make time to 
watch other people play video games. 

The real reason I stopped playing 
video games is the same reason I once 
loved to play them: It makes me too aware 
that time is slipping by. What was once a 


BY JOEL STEIN | 


pleasant escape now, when І have less 
time left and more to do, incites existential 
terror. It's also why I can't watch a baseball 
game on TV anymore. Or an entire porn 
scene, though that may have to do with 
other issues. Yes, porn is also a waste 
of time, but at least, unlike with video 
games, I always win. Meanwhile, playing 
video games has become too imbued with 
the loneliness of jigsaw puzzles, solitaire, 
Sudoku and doing something and not 
immediately tweeting about it. 

When I had an office job we had to 
sit around waiting for copy editors and 
designers to send articles back to us. Two 
other writers and I would play hours of 
NBA Jam, the one game we had for the 
free Xbox that Microsoft had sent us. We 


played so much NBA Jam, in fact, that I 
still find myself randomly working the 
announcers quotes into conversation: 
"Is it the shoes?" “Boomshakalaka!” and, 
though rarely successfully, “Has there 
ever been a better player out of Santa 
Clara than Steve Nash?" 

So I can see how gaming could be social. 
In college, my dorm played out a whole 
season of Tecmo Bowl on our Nintendo. But 
at this point in my life, just getting three 
people together for dinner takes months 
of planning. The only kind of multiplayer 
gaming available to me is the kind that 
involves being home alone and getting 
pwned by some nerdy, trash-talking 
teenage boy a thousand miles away. And 
I've seen enough Catfish episodes to know 
how easily I can be tricked into believing 
he's a hot chick who wants to blow me. 

Gaming isn't like bowling or voting, 
which you can do every few years without 
knowing anything. Getting good at Dwarf 
Fortress would take me weeks of prolonged 
frustration, and climbing that learning 
curve is as likely to happen as my figuring 
out the piano, a foreign language, a new 
sport or how to make a woman squirt. 

I have very little control over my life— 
my activities are largely the result of what 
my friends and family do, where I live 
and the global economy. The one thing 
I can affect is my inputs. So I don’t keep 
candy in the house, record reality TV or 
own a video game console. If I happen to 
be around other people who are playing 
with their Wii or Madden NFL, I'll join in. 
But I’m not going to make video games 
a part of my life again. And if that means 
Miss October 2012 doesn’t want to sleep 
with me, I’m not worried—partly because 
she wrote that her turn-ons include 
someone “with a strong physique who 
isn’t afraid to hit the gym with me.” I 
have even more excuses for that one. E 


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50 


WHEN YOUR BOSS HAS A 


VAGINA 


Here's what that woman in the big 
corner office thinks about you 


"m a lady. And I'm a boss. I'm a lady 

boss. I work in the entertainment 

business. I'm a TV writer and 

producer. I manage actors, writers 

and a crew of professionals who 
do everything from makeup to action 
stunts and set construction to catering. 
Although I'm not new to being a lady, I 
am new to "bossing." And it has made me 
think a lot about the following question: 
Does it matter if your boss has a penis or 
a vagina? I know having a vagina makes 
people confuse me with the secretary, 
but how much else does it affect? 

In my career I've certainly had a lot of 
examples of male bosses—ones I greatly 
respected, who championed me and 
helped me get to where I am today. And 
the other ones. My first bossin Hollywood 
asked me in front of a roomful of men 
if I liked it when my boyfriend fucked 
me. I answered, "Well, he doesn't really 
fuck me all that much." That was my 
first realization that I was working in a 
truly male-dominated industry and that 
my boyfriend was gay. (The latter was 
confirmed when he stayed up all night 
crying after JFK Jr. died.) 

I've had dysfunctional bosses and 
functional alcoholic ones. I've had a boss 
accuse me of being ungrateful for getting 
time off when my mom was going through 
chemotherapy (she's okay now). I told 
him, "Thank you. It was a blast!" I've had 
bosses who wanted me to be their partner 
and bosses who wanted me to be their 
"partner." One boss would get wasted at 
night and start IMing me. Boss: "Girl, 
what are you up to?" Me: “Just about to 
go to bed." Boss: "Dreaming of me?" My 
drunk, 20-years-my-senior boss—yeah, 
that's what I'm going to dream about. 
Good or bad, almost all my bosses have 
been men. All except the first one. 

My very first boss was a woman. And 
she taught me a lot. When I was 16 I 
got a summer job as an assistant at a 
real estate firm, answering phones. The 
place was owned by a husband-and-wife 
team, Ed and Gloria. They were kind, 
with big laughs and big hearts—exactly 
the kind of first bosses you'd be looking 
for. Gloria had a factory job most of her 


| 


life, and being the boss was a lifelong 
dream. For her it was about making her 
own hours and getting to work with the 
love of her life—her parrot. 

She builta large cage in the conference 
room made, ironically, out of chicken 
wire. And that parrot worked right 
alongside us. Gray parrots are pretty 
smart as far as birds go. They can be 
taught to speak. This bird had been 
taught to speak—one sentence: "Hey, 
baby, let me see your tattoo." And that 
bird used those seven words to express 
every single emotion he had. He's hot. 
He's cold. He's bored. And we'd hear, 
“Hey, baby. Hey, baby, let me see your 
tattoo, tattoo, tattoo, tattoo, tattoo!" 
Sadly, I had no tattoo to show him. 

Having the parrot made Gloria a tad 
eccentric, but she was a fantastic person. 
I really looked up to her. She was full 


of helpful advice any teenager would 
pretend not to care about in the moment 
but would later take. The most practical 
advice came one afternoon when the men 
in the office were all out getting lunch. 
Gloria said she had "something very, very 
important to talk to me about." It meant 
a lot to me to have a mentor, a woman 
who owned her own business, whom I 
respected. So I was ready. Га take notes. 
I'd pay close attention. I'd ask questions. 

Gloria began, "Everything you want 
in life you can get one way." Me: "Hard 
work?" Gloria: "By giving a great 
blow job." This was not the mentor- 
mentee advice I was expecting. Gloria 
used her hand to simulate what was, 
in retrospect, a quite large penis. "You 
have to take it deep. That's the secret." 
She proceeded to show me her blow-job 
techniques while the parrot squawked in 
the background, “Hey, baby! Let me see 


your tattoo, tattoo, tattoo!” And that was 
my first lady-boss experience. 

As an employee, I had good and bad 
bosses of both sexes. They could teach you 
how to give a blow job or they could ask 
for one. So I should say gender isn't a factor 
at all in bossing. But now, as a boss, I think 
itis a factor. It absolutely matters whether 
your boss has a penis or a vagina, because 
gender affects everything. Now, as a lady 
boss, I can be bad in all the ways any boss 
can. ГЇЇ have a fight with my fiancé on the 
way to work and take it out on you. ГЇЇ 
make you work on the weekend and tell 
you Friday night. I'll stock the break room 
with snacks only I like. I'll notice when 
your car isn't there right at nine. I'll doubt 
you're really sick. I'll resent your car 
trouble, out-of-town weddings and dentist 
appointments. And yet I'll leave early just 
to beat traffic—while you're still at work. 

But the real difference between having 
a male boss and a female boss is social 
customs. No matter what our roles are, 
we're tied to ones that have existed since 
way before anyone noticed the glass 
ceiling. You hold the door for me because 
I'm a woman, not because I'm your boss. 
You look at my ass because you're a man, 
not my subordinate. And I wear V-necks 
because I'm a woman and I have nice tits. 

All in all, having a lady boss instead of 
a dude boss is like having a relationship 
with any other woman. Which is always 
a little complicated. A little complex. A 
little confusing. A little crazy. You may see 
me crying in my car. You may know how 
many Weight Watchers points 1 get each 
day. I may be late for a meeting because 
Prada is on Gilt Groupe. But I actually 
care about seeing pictures of your kids, 
and I'll throw the office a puppy party asa 
reward for a job well done. But at the end 
of the day, like every boss, ГЇЇ support you 
if you're good and fire you if you're bad. 
The only difference is, after I fire you, 
you'll still have to walk me to my car. E 


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Y TASCHEN 


Having recently gone through a 
rough breakup, I dusted off the 
movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall, 
a gem on the topic. In one scene 
the main character, Peter, is out 
on the town, looking for some 
rebound action. He says to two 
women, "I just came out of a 
five-year relationship, so I’m 
not looking for anything seri- 
ous, just sexual activity" As a 
newly single guy with nothing 
to lose, I can't help but fanta- 
size about being able to pull off 
such a brazen stunt. Not to be 
greedy, but I think I could actu- 
ally pull it off with two women. 
A ménage à trois would go a 
long way toward healing my 
broken heart. Do you think I 
can make blunt work?—R.M., 
Paso Robles, California 

We don't recommend blunt. It 
makes for good comedy in movies, 
but in reality it’s brutish, offensive 
and virtually guaranteed to make 
a woman feel like little more than a 
piece of meat. Direct can work, but 
be earnest, complimentary and spe- 
cific about what you find attractive 
about the woman you're interested 
in. Youre complicating matters by 
bringing up a threesome, a fantasy 
that sits statistically low on the scale 
of awesome shit people wish hap- 
pened more often. We've found a 
ménage à trois becomes an achiev- 
able scenario when the green light 
is glaringly obvious: Are the two 
women gazing longingly at you, 
whispering to each other and then 
gazing longingly at you again? In 
that case, go for it. But rare is the 
random ménage between strang- 
ers that doesn't involve a three-day 
EDM festival and copious molly. An 
informal poll of successful ménage a 
trotskies revealed that it's most likely 
to happen between friends or at least 
acquaintances who have had time 
to establish mutual trust. But that 
doesn't prevent post-ménage com- 
plications: A couple who hooked up 
with a good female friend consider 
the ménage the beginning of the end 
of their relationship. The boyfriend 
came in his girlfriend's best friend. 
The two women didn't trust each 
other afterward, and the girlfriend 
never trusted her boyfriend again. One friend 
of ours managed a ménage à quatre with three 
women, which devolved into an air-traffic- 
control nightmare with nobody ever landing. 
Be careful what you wish for, but if you pull it 
off, please let us know. 


Years ago, when we were dating and ex- 
perimental, my now wife and I bought 
a harness and dildo for her to wear. 
I found it the other day when I was 
cleaning out my closet, and I'm wonder- 
ing how to propose to my wife that we 


PLAYBOY 
ADVISOR 


friend of mine was showing off her new boob job. 

She proudly proclaimed that she now has sporty 
nipples. Do different nipple types have their own 
names?—S.G., Portland, Oregon 
Official nipple nomenclature is woefully inexpressive— 
normal, flat and inverted being the three main descriptors. 
But in casual use we've heard the terms puffy, perky, promi- 
nent, droopy, shy, dimpled, pancake, high beam, low beam, up 
thermometer and down thermometer. As for your friend, after 
breast augmentation surgery, implants can push the nipple up 
and out in certain instances, which is what we're guessing your 
friend meant by "sporty." Dr. Grant Stevens of Marina Plastic 
Surgery in Los Angeles uses a sporty analogy to explain this 
phenomenon: "Think of the nipple as a swing set. If the nipple 
is in the normal position or a little low, breast augmentation 
surgery will push the swing to the top of the arc." 


finally take off the hangtag and put it to 
good use 10 years after buying it.—D.D., 
Miami Beach, Florida 

Do it as romantically and playfully as possi- 
ble on your wedding anniversary. Present the 
dildo to her bundled with a dozen roses and a 
picture of the two of you during your court- 
ship. Follow that with dinner at an old haunt, 
where you can reminisce over those early 
days of oxytocin-fueled euphoria. We assume 
the unused dildo was more a totem of trust 
than a tool for intimacy and pleasure—and 
that if you didn't need it then, you probably 


won't need it later that night. But it 
doesn't hurt to try, provided you use 
plenty of lube. 


How do women in porn movies 
swallow a nine- or 10-inch cock 
all the way to the hilt with seem- 
ing ease when giving head? My 
wife can barely handle my puny 
five inches without gagging.— 
D.G., Concord, California 
Expecting your wife to be able to 
perform like an adult-film star is 
asking a lot of her. Porn is adult 
entertainment, not adult education. 
Just as most movie action heroes 
aren't able to execute a perfect fly- 
ing kick on the first take, adult-film 
performers don't always deep throat 
flawlessly. Like any actor, they need 
to prepare for their roles. Provided 
your wife isn’t trying to tell you 
something with her gagging, here 
are a few tricks of the trade you 
can share with her: She can practice 
relaxing her throat by inserting two 
fingers into the back of her mouth 
until her gag reflex subsides over 
time. She can fold her left thumb 
into her palm and clench a fist, 
an anti-gagging trick that dentists 
recommend to patients in the chair. 
Or she can use a numbing agent 
such as Comfortably Numb Deep 
Throat spray. Bonus blow job fact: 
The reason porn actors look up into 
a man's eyes while fellating him is 
to keep their eyes from tearing up. 


[ go out to a lot of business 
meals with my boss, and I 
have noticed that he tips really 
badly, even when the service 
is excellent. I used to work 
in a restaurant, and I know 
how important tips are to a 
waitstaff's livelihood. Should 
I say something to my boss?— 
TS., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 

Issues of sexual harassment or 
a hostile work environment aside, 
never complain to your boss, 
especially about something that 
happens outside the office and 
doesn't directly affect your job. That 
said, you don't want to look like a 
cheapskate by association. The next 
time this happens, wait until your 
boss has paid and gets up from 
the table. Excuse yourself and head to the 
bathroom. Stall until your boss is heading to 
his or her car and then slip your server a little 
extra cash. Think of it as a deposit in your 
karmic 401(k). 


ls it possible for a woman not to have a 
clitoris? I have never been able to locate 
a clitoris on my wife, but we have a very 
satisfying sex life. After penetration 
she gently moves up and down on my 
penis while slightly rotating her pelvis 
until she climaxes. If she doesn't have a 


53 


PLAYBOY 


54 


clitoris, how is she able to do this? D. W., 
Minneapolis, Minnesota 

It's possible your wife has a condition called 
clitoral phimosis, in which excess skin obscures 
or entirely covers the clitoris. While many 
people think the clitoris is limited to the small 
bump at the top of the vagina, it actually ex- 
tends inward and wraps around the vaginal 
cavity, which is why she can still have an or- 
gasm. You're still stimulating her clitoris but 
from the inside. Kudos to you and your wife 
for finding a workaround. 


M, boyfriend and I have been dating for 
seven years and want to take our sex life 
to the next level. A surprising number of 
my girlfriends have told me to try female 
ejaculation. They say it's an intense, full- 
body experience and that it's incredibly 
satisfying to see your orgasm produce 
something. My boyfriend and I have 
looked at videos online, and they look 
fake to us. Is female ejaculation real? Can 
anyone do it? If so, how do we learnz— 
L.M., Cincinnati, Ohio 

The so-called squirting orgasm, which 
involves the release of fluid from the urethral 
sponge, has become a booming subgenre of 
online porn, but its roots are in sex-positive 
feminism. The leading expert in the field is 
Deborah Sundahl, who teaches workshops and 
has been producing instructional videos since 
1992 (check out her website at isismedia.org). 
Whether anyone can do it is one thing; whether 
you want to is another. To each her own: Some 
women love the classic clitoral orgasm but think 
the internal vaginal orgasm is uncomfortable 
and requires too much work. Squirting orgasms 
can be achieved through a combination of cli- 
toral and vaginal stimulation, plus lube, plus 
practice. That's a lot of work, but converts 
report extreme satisfaction. We admire that you 
want to claim the wet spot as your own. 


Do you find Virgin America's new seat- 
to-seat drink-delivery “flirting” system 
weird? It's built into your seat-back TV 
monitor, and you can order a drink for 
a cute girl five rows away. Although I'm 
a fan of innocent flirtation, I think it's 
kind of awkward to order something for 
a woman on a long flight who has no es- 
cape route. Aren't there less creepy ways 
to make introductions on a plane? I. E., 
St. Louis, Missouri 

We're a fan of anything that aims to put 
romance back in the all too wearying world 
of modern air travel. That said, booze and el- 
evation famously don't mix. Low cabin pressure 
causes some passengers to feel more intoxicated, 
which can catch boozers unaware: People have 
even defecated on drink carts, and flight atten- 
dants keep duct tape on hand to subdue unruly 
intoxicated travelers. As for the creep factor, 
whether you order someone a drink electronically 
or through a bartender, let it be delivered and 
then take your cues from the recipient's reaction. 
Anyone can decline a drink, and if it’s yours be- 
ing declined, then respect the “no means no” of 
it all. Virgin is the master of stunt marketing, 
what with its intergalactic flights and honestly 
named Upper Class designation for first class. 


We would bet this doesn’t catch on. But until 
then, try to smoke out the air marshal by ordering 
everyone a drink and seeing who doesn't imbibe. 


I have thousands of songs in iTunes and 
on CDs, old laptops and iPods, and even 
a few cassette tapes. What should I do to 
put it all in one place?—R.C., Tacoma, 
Washington 

Rip the CDs to your computers media 
player. Buy an Ion Tape Express to transfer 
the cassettes. Use a file-consolidation program 
such as MediaMonkey for all the files you 
might have strewn across iTunes, Windows 
Media Player and Winamp. Once you've 
done that, invest in a trend-immune Audio- 
Technica LP-120 turntable. Then build a 
well-curated library of vinyl records (which 
many audiophiles swear produce warmer bass 
and crisper treble than any digital format). 
Don't worry, you won't be stuck listening to 
scratched copies of Desperado and Synchron- 
icity. Labels routinely release limited runs of 
LPs by major artists. Daft Punk’s album Ran- 
dom Access Memories was released simultane- 
ously digitally and on vinyl. The vinyl version 
sold 19,000 copies in the first week. 


Does cologne go bad over time? I just 
got a massive bottle of cologne for my 
birthday, and I’m hoping it will last me 
for years.—H.B., Kankakee, Illinois 

Yes, cologne can go bad. Heat and light are 
the two biggest culprits in making a cologne 
go off. As with wine, keep your cologne in a 
cool dark place to extend its shelf life for years. 
As the saying goes, the nose knows, so you'll 
recognize when it goes bad: It just won't smell 
good to you anymore. 


Im hosting a New Year's Eve dinner 
party and want to serve champagne 
and oysters on the half shell. Whats 
the best way to open an oyster?—M.G., 
Austin, Texas 

We have seen all sorts of implements and 
techniques, the most brutal of which was 
employed by a fishmonger in Australia who 
hammered the bivalves open, scattering shell 
fragments all over the meat, which he then 
washed off with a hose, along with the prized 
oyster liquor. Preserving this brine is half the 
goal, so go slowly. Get a good chain-mail 
shucking glove. Lemon juice is a fine garnish; 
blood is not. Hold the oyster flat on a cutting 
board with your gloved hand, gripping the 
wider end of the oyster. On the narrow end of 
the flat top of the oyster, work the tip of the knife 
down until the hinge pops. Gently pry the shell 
up and away while scraping the knife forward 
between the halves of the shell. It takes patience, 
practice and, unfortunately, complete and to- 
tal sobriety. Since we like to drink a glass of 
cold and flinty Sancerre with our oysters, our 
preferred method is to have someone else do it, 
preferably in late fall and early winter, when 
ocean waters are cold and oysters are at their 
sweetest. As for what oysters to order and what 
knife to buy, check out page 28. 


About 10 years ago I started to see guys 
wearing skinny jeans. I thought the style 


would go the way of bell-bottoms, but 
it seems skinny jeans are here to stay. 
And now guys are wearing skinny suits 
too (and not all the guys wearing them 
are skinny). Even though they used to 
look right, now all my jeans look baggy 
and my suits look like zoot suits. Should 
I buy a whole new wardrobe?—C.L., 
Hoboken, New Jersey 

Unless you just served 10 years in prison, 
you should never buy a whole new ward- 
robe. Trends come and go, but looking good 
in clothes comes down to this simple rule: 
Dress to scale. If you are slim, then dress 
slim, from suits to jeans to shirts and swim 
trunks. No thin man ever looked amazing in 
those broad-shouldered suits of the 1980s. 
No short man looked good in wide-cut bell- 
bottoms. Conversely, no husky man will look 
good in a super-trim suit or jeans. If your 
suits look baggy on you, have them tailored 
down. Too many men buy a suit based on 
their chest size and leave it at that. Few suits 
look perfect off the rack; most require a nip 
and tuck here and there. A skilled tailor can 
modify a suit to fit your body. Every dap- 
per man in the history of fashion has dressed 
to scale: Fred Astaire, a man of short stat- 
ure, always had his suits hemmed super 
high, which pushed the vertical impression 
of his legs and gave a sense of elongating 
his form. Portly producer Rick Rubin owned 
his girth by growing a massive beard and 
wearing loose-fitting flannel shirts. In other 
words, wear clothes that fit your body and 
your personality. 


1 recently heard about a new penis-size 
study that shows women prefer a bigger 
penis, but I've also heard size doesn't 
really matter. 1 had been feeling pretty 
good about my less-than-gargantuan 
manhood, but now not so much.—A.K., 
Brooklyn, New York 

We think you're referring to a recent study 
out of Australia in which women were shown 
computer-generated pictures of naked men of 
various sizes, all with flaccid penises. What 
the study shows is that the women preferred 
men with penises that were in proportion to 
their body size and that by a slight margin 
they considered bigger men with proportion- 
ally bigger penises to be the most attractive. 
But when all was said and done, the biggest 
determinant of attractiveness was shoulder- 
to-hip ratio, with the women favoring men 
whose shoulders were broader than their hips. 
We have yet to observe a respectable bar where 
men walk around without their pants, so our 
advice for improving your chances in the field: 
Do more shoulder workouts. 


For answers to reasonable questions relating to 
fashion, food and drink, stereos and sports cars, 
sex and dating dilemmas, laste and etiquette, 
write the Playboy Advisor, 9346 Civic Center 
Drive, Beverly Hills, California 90210, or 
send an e-mail to advisor@playboy.com. The 
most interesting and pertinent questions will 
be presented in these pages each month. 


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HOME DECOR 


Y 


а 


Right-wing greens 


DON'T 
DRILL 
ON ME 


Meet the new face of 
environmental activism 


BY DEAN KUIPERS 


arry Bell is a conservative and a 

successful brewer in Michigan. 

His Bell's Brewery makes some 

of the best-loved craft beers in 

the country, selling 250,000 bar- 
rels a year ofits highly rated Two Hearted 
Ale and other brews across 18 states. 

He is, in political terms, the kind of guy 
you'd want to have a beer with. He be- 
lieves in American energy independence. 
He thought it was a good idea to wring 
oil from the tar sands of Canada and pipe 
it into the U.S., even to build the contro- 
versial Keystone XL pipeline to run the 
oil down to Port Arthur, Texas. 

But then tar-sands oil threatened 
Bell's beer, and what he found out 
about this particular oil changed his 
mind completely. “I was on the side of 
building Keystone XL,” says Bell. “But 
I certainly couldn't condone it now.” 

Similar stories are piling up: Some 
political conservatives and supporters 
of U.S. energy independence are now 
opposed to tar-sands 
oil. Terry Van Housen, 
originally a big fan of the 
Keystone XL pipeline, 
which is supposed to run 
through his Nebraska 
farm and cattle feedlot, 
is now fighting it. Debra 
Medina, former Tea Party 
candidate for governor 
of Texas, supports a Tex- 
as Supreme Court case 
against the pipeline. Ex- 
marine Michael Bishop says he wouldn't 
have fought the pipeline for environ- 
mental reasons but has filed three law- 
suits to stop it, including one against the 
U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. 

They have a litany of complaints. 
Some question why the foreign company 
building Keystone XL—Calgary-based 


are now 


opposed to 


tar-sands oil. 


Some political 


conservatives 


TransCanada—can grab 
U.S. property under emi- 
nent domain. Some want 
to see more money for 
landowners. Others don't 
like that TransCanada has 
been providing lists of 
"aggressive" landowners and activists to 
local authorities. 

But all of them fear an oil spill. 

In July 2010, a pipeline owned by 
Enbridge (another Calgary-based 
energy-transport company) ruptured 
near Marshall, Michigan, dumping nearly 
a million gallons of tar-sands oil into the 


ILLUSTRATION BY JUSTIN PAGE 


READER 
RESPONSE 


LIBERTY AND 
LIBERTARIANISM 


In “The War on Sex” 
(September), Nancy L. Cohen's 
hastily tacked-on jab at Rand Paul 
is not only misleading but outright 
false. Senator Paul believes states 
have the right to ban gay marriage 
just as much as he believes they 
have the right to legalize it. Also, 


including his stance on marijuana? 
What does that have to do with 
sex? Paul is a huge advocate of 
growing hemp and legalizing 
medical marijuana, which is 
certainly more 420-friendly than 
our current administration. To try 
to misleadingly label Paul as some 
far-right puritan à la Todd Akin 
is a clear indicator that Cohen's 
article is not about the alleged 
war on sex but rather an attempt 
to smear as many potential 2016 
GOP candidates as possible in her 
allotted page and a half. 
Cody Joel 
Louisville, Kentucky 


Nancy L. Cohen responds: "The true 
libertarian position is that gay marry- 
ing, dope smoking and nonprocreative 


57 


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READER RESPONSE 


fucking are individual rights that 
should not be abridged by any gov- 
ernment, federal or state. Rand Paul 
earns his inclusion in the GO 

war on sex through his avid support 
for a ‘personhood amendment’ to the 
U.S. Constitution. By defining life 

as beginning at fertilization, such an 
amendment would have the effect of 
classifying popular forms of birth con- 
trol as instruments of murder. I thought 
PLAYBOY readers might also be interested 
to learn about Paul's politically ambi- 
dextrous positioning on drugs. On May 
12, The Washington Post reported on a 
meeting in which Paul 'assured' evan- 
gelical pastors that he disagrees with 
libertarians who support legalizing 
drugs.' On medical marijuana, Paul 
has said he believes it is a state-rights 
issue but takes no public position himself. 
Neither viAYBOY's fact-checkers nor I 
found any evidence that Paul is a huge 
advocate’ of legalizing medical mari- 
juana, and the senator’s office did not 
respond to our request for clarification.” 


CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 


I disagree with Ishmael Reed 
(“Who's Next?,” July/August). 
Gays aren't the new blacks; felons 
are. I have three felony convic- 
tions for possessing small amounts 
of marijuana, less than half an 
ounce each time. Unfortunately, 


in Oklahoma marijuana is con- 
sidered a controlled dangerous 
substance. It is grouped in the 
same class of drugs as heroin 

and methamphetamine. My only 
crime is smoking marijuana. Since 


Kalamazoo River about 30 miles upstream. 
from Bell’s Brewery. The complex clean- 
up has cost more than $1 billion, making it 
the costliest on-shore spill in U.S. history— 
and it’s not finished. In 
March 2013 a smaller spill 
from an ExxonMobil line 
flowed through the city 
of Mayflower, Arkansas. 
Bell and others believe the 
spills are caused in part be- 
cause what flows through 
these pipes is not conven- 
tional oil but diluted bitu- 
men, or dilbit. 

“The first week, En- 
bridge told people it was 
crude oil, but the cleanup 
people who dove right in to help us out 
were exposed to benzene and other tox- 
ic materials that aren't in crude oil,” says 
Bell. “They got sick from it, and they 
went to the doctor. He said, ‘What were 
you exposed to?’ And they have to say, 
‘I don't know.’ That's heinous behavior.” 

Tar-sands oil is not what we picture 
when we think of a gusher of light sweet 
crude. Bitumen from the Athabasca tar 
sands has the consistency of peanut butter. 
It’s too thick to pump through a pipeline, 
so it’s diluted by about 30 percent with 
solvents called “diluents.” Thus, dilbit. 


“How could I 


let my people 


work, knowing 


that stuffwas 
blowing in the 


windows?” 


is required to keep records that explain 
the makeup of each batch of dilbit. What's 
left to clean up at the bottom of the river 
today, he says, is a nontoxic solid. 

But when Enbridge 
moved to dredge the river 
and pile the sludge about 
60 yards from his brewery, 
Bell brought experts to 
visit the local planning 
commission and had the 
dredging halted. Enbridge 
hadn’t even gotten the 
right permit for the site 
before cleanup began. 

“It was our error,” says 
Manshum, noting that two 
other dredge sites weren't 
required to have the same permits. 

“How could I let my people work,” 
asks Bell, “knowing that stuff was blow- 
ing in the windows?” 


he brewer's stance inspired 
other Michiganders to 
look at the pipeline. Dan 
Musser III, president of the 
Grand Hotel on Mackinac 
Island and a member of the Mackinac 
Bridge Authority, was concerned when 
Enbridge announced it would increase 
the volume of oil running through a 


BREWER LARRY BELL BECAME AN OPPONENT 
OF THE KEYSTONE XL PIPELINE AFTER A SPILL 
IN THE KALAMAZOO RIVER. 


Enbridge spokesman Jason Manshum 
acknowledges that Line 6B carries dilbit 
but insists it's no different from other 
kinds of heavy crude oil. 

"Crude oil is crude oil," he says. "It's 
liquid oil. When it's in the pipe it's all the 
same. The benzene and other chemicals 
in this product tend to evaporate and 
disperse within hours of an incident." 

By summer 2012, Manshum notes, 
Michigan's Department of Community 
Health declared the river safe for recre- 
ational activities. Moreover, the company 


60-year-old underwater pipeline that 
crosses the Straits of Mackinac. "If there 
were a spill in the straits, all eyes would be 
on us," Musser says. "It's not all altruistic; 
it would affect our business." 

Steve Wuori, president of Enbridge's 
major projects division, came to see 
Musser in August. Musser says Wuori as- 
sured him it was light crude from North 
Dakota, not dilbit, running through the 
line. “I feel reasonably optimistic that 
they are on the right track to ensure a 
safe pipeline in our neck of the woods," 
Musser says. 

Bellis notas optimistic. “Politically, Pm a 
guy who supports energy independence," 
he says. "But now that I understand dilbit 


THE GRAND HOTEL ON MACKINAC ISLAND IN 
MICHIGAN: NOT SO FAST WITH THAT UNDER- 
WATER PIPELINE. 


and its brother, horizontal fracking, I 
know we need clean water." 

'These words echo across the 2,100 
acres of corn on Terry Van Housen's 
farm in Polk County, Nebraska. He 
grows corn to feed cattle in his feedlot, 
where, he says, he can “make 30,000 
pounds of steak a day." What he learned 
about the Keystone XL pipeline has him 
worried about his livelihood. 

When TransCanada first sent a survey 
crew to look at his property, 61-year- 
old Van Housen was pleased. Crude 
oil sounded fine to him. 
They gave him $500 and 
told him he'd get money 
for the easement. The 
pipe would be buried and 
he could farm right over 
it. He was ready to sign. 
Then he started talking 
to his neighbors. "The 
land manager who came 
to see me from Trans- 
Canada made it sound 
so rosy, so perfect. But it 
wasn't so perfect at all," 
says Van Housen. 

It's his understand- 
ing that he is liable for a 
spill if he runs his heavy 
equipment over the line— 
a claim TransCanada 
spokesman Grady Semmens dismisses, 
saying the pipe is buried in a way that 
makes it safe for farming. Then Van 
Housen learned about the Kalamazoo 
and Mayflower spills, as well as a num- 
ber of smaller spills on existing Keystone 
pipelines. This worried him. Heavy 
crude, like dilbit, moves at higher pres- 
sures than light crude, and he, like many 
others, believes this is causing leaks. 

Semmens deflects this argument too, 
saying tar-sands oil poses no increased 
risk from either pressure or corrosion. 
"Several studies have shown there is 
no difference in safety or risk for pipe- 
lines carrying bitumen-derived crude oil 
compared with traditional, lighter crude 
oils," he says, citing a recent study by the 
National Research Council. 


TransCanada 
suggested that 
aggressive 
landowners 
and activ- 
ists may be 


candidates 


forterrorism 


charges. 


Van Housen's big fear, however, is that 
his property sits atop the Ogallala Aqui- 
fer, a vast underground freshwater lake 
close to the surface of the Great Plains 
that irrigates nearly a third of all the 
cultivated land in the U.S. The state of 
Nebraska convinced TransCanada to re- 
route Keystone XL so it misses the en- 
vironmentally sensitive Sandhills region, 
but it still goes right over the aquifer. 

“I told the land manager, “What if it 
gets down into the aquifer and it destroys 
my ability to water my corn and my cattle? 
I'm done. I'm ruined,” Van Housen says. 

Semmens says environmental-impact 
studies have determined that a leak into 
the aquifer may affect an area measured 
in only "hundreds of feet" 
and that “TransCanada 
recognizes the significance 
of this critical resource 
and will not jeopardize it." 

Van Housen is hardly 
reassured. He hasn't 
signed an easement and 
is trying to figure out a 
way to keep the pipeline 
off his land. 

"I'm starting to freak 
out now," he says, sitting 
in his farm truck and bark- 
ing into the phone about 
TransCanada. "What the 
hell are you trying to do? 
You're trying to get a life- 
time easement and make 
billions of dollars but ruin 
our land. And you can't even protect us?" 

Stakeholders like Van Housen got 
a further shock this summer when 
anti-Keystone XL activist group Bold 
Nebraska found documents in which 
TransCanada suggests to local law en- 
forcement that particularly aggressive 
landowners and activists may be candi- 
dates for domestic terrorism charges. 

“It’s all bad,” Van Housen says of the 
pipe. "There's no upside to it whatsoever." 


n July 2011 Republican activist 
Debra Medina, head of a policy non- 
profit called We Texans, got a phone 
call about looking into the Keystone 

XL pipeline. 
“Tasked why I would get involved with 
it,” she says. "It's a private company. Pm 


FORUM 


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my incarceration I have experi- 
enced housing discrimination and 
difficulty finding a job. I can no 
longer get the state licenses I used 
to have. My voting rights have 
been curtailed and my gun rights 
taken away, even though I have 
never been violent. When I tell 
people I've been to prison, they 
look at me as if I'm a terrorist. I 
definitely feel like three fifths of a 
person. This will be a rising social 
issue as we increasingly lock up 
more people for bullshit reasons. 


Rodger Alan Gibson 
Tulsa, Oklahoma 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


Robert Perry's letter in June 
("Keynes Was Right") tells the 
story of the downturn as I 
understand it. However, I disagree 
with his assessment that Fannie 
Mae and Freddie Mac deserve 
much of the blame. Certainly they 
contributed to the financial crisis, 
but they were late to the game. 
You need to return to November 
1999 to reach ground zero. 
"That's when Senator Phil Gramm 
(Republican of Texas) slipped 

an amendment into a bill that 
eliminated the last vestiges of the 


Glass-Steagall Act. Passed during 
the Depression, the act created 
divisions in the financial industry. 
With these restrictions removed, 
behemoths such as Citigroup 
bought brokerage firms, real 
estate firms, savings and loans and 
commercial and individual loan 
operations. With the complicity 

of Wall Street, everyone and his 
brother jumped into the loan- 
origination game. Even drug 
dealers got into writing mortgages 


59 


60 


EJ Forum 


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because it was so lucrative and no 
one shot at you. Previously, savings 
and loans originated, funded and 
serviced a loan to term (usually 20 
to 30 years). This chain of custody 
disappeared once Glass-Steagall 
was dead. Hefty fees were taken 
up front, and the mess was tossed 
over the fence for someone else 

to either squeeze out whatever 
profit they could or be stuck with 
the nonperformers. Without 
regulation, you get a market run 
amok, with many losers and a few 
big winners. One of those winners 
is Gramm, who became a senior 
executive at UBS, formerly a 
bank but now a financial services 
firm that couldn't have existed 
under Glass-Steagall. Finally, lest 
we forget, it was a Republican- 
controlled Congress that ordered 
Fannie and Freddie to buy those 
toxic loans. When they resisted, 
Congress changed their charters to 
compel their participation. 


Donald Lovett 
Sugar Land, Texas 


A NECESSARY TRUTH 


In response to "What Happened to 
Science?" (July/August): Since truth 
is now relative, the postmoderns 
have a new term for one reason 
people disagree—confirmation bias. 
Believe me, it's a dodge. Plato 
states that the republic's elites—the 
guardians and philosopher-kings 
of his time—should be lovers of 


learning and as such should be in 
an uncompromising and relent- 
less pursuit of truth. Falsehoods, as 
well as those who spew them (the 
Sophists), were rightly held in con- 
tempt. Since everyone now has a 
valid point of view, sophistry has 
become high art. It should come 


all about private enterprise flourishing 
and making money. Then he told me 
they're using eminent domain to take 
Texas property to build the pipeline. I 
about fell out of my chair." 

Thus began a legal battle over wheth- 
er TransCanada, a foreign corporation, 
has the authority to use eminent domain 
in the state of Texas. 

No one was more willing to take that 
on than Medina, a private-property and 
state-sovereignty advocate who is popu- 
lar in Texas, where she got 19 percent 
of the vote for a third-place finish in the 
2010 Republican gubernatorial primary. 

Medina says Texas statutes maintain 
that to use eminent domain to take prop- 
erty from folks who don't want to give it 
up, a company has to be a "common car- 
rier," meaning it carries oil "to or for the 
public for hire" and is permitted by the 
Railroad Commission of Texas. Medina 
argues that TransCanada doesn't cut it. 

"Unfortunately there hasn't been 
a court in the state of Texas that has 
agreed with me yet," she says. 

She notes, however, that case law is 
evolving, including a key 2011 Texas Su- 
preme Court decision that established 
that private landowners have standing to 
appeal eminent-domain decisions regard- 


CLEANUP EFFORTS IN MICHIGAN: NEARLY A 
MILLION GALLONS OF TAR-SANDS OIL LEAKED 
INTO THE KALAMAZOO RIVER IN 2010. 


ing pipelines. And a case that could affect 
the Keystone XL project, Crawford Family 
Farm Partnership v. TransCanada, will soon 
be heard by the Texas Supreme Court. 
TransCanada's Semmens says Key- 
stone is a common carrier and that the 
two percent of landowners whose ease- 
ments are grabbed by eminent domain 
get less money than those who sign an 
agreement. That's the brutal logic. "The 
real problem," Medina says, "is that gov- 
ernment is giving private enterpi > ım- 
munity from civil liability. You can call it 


INDECENT EXPOSURE 


Preying on those who would download porn 


t looked like another—__ > 
st bill, but as mes 
opened the letter, its 


Comcast was handing James's 

rsonal records to a company called 
Malibu Medi someone 
using James's internet connection 
had illegally nloade 
ornographic movies with titles 

5 It Апай 

Malibu Media had filed suit, citing 
pyright vi s, and on July 3 


a passw 


neighbors to acc 
nights," he sa 
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warnings 
nents I've clicked on 
t little mı 


уте demanding settle. 
nies don’ 


says Billy 0 bills himself as 


to go to court,” 
the friendliest a 


in cases like James's. "They want settlements, and 

hame of porn: Pay us or we'll launch a 

federal lawsuit—with public documents a basic Google 

search can find that reveal you were sued for steal- 

ing Interracial Gang Bang Anal Expl , 

This past summer, the Pirate Bay, a file- 

sharing hub, used the porn trollers' tricks 

against them, subpoenaing records for 

n IP address from which many of 

the adult films cited in copyright 

lawsuits had been uploaded. 

It belonged to a com- 

pany once operated by 

Prenda's lead attorney. 

The summer also 

saw sanctions levied 

against Prenda and Malibu 

in US. district courts. The 

crippled Prenda, and though Malibu was allowed 

is now required to mention 

the sanctions in future cases. One plaintiff's lawyer 

hi s trolling had a 30 percent error rate. 

"| have people on the phone in tears, contemplating 

SU ,” says Mills, “paying even though they couldn't 

have done it because they were abroad, for example, 
but can't risk muddying their name." 

“Part of me wants to fight," says Jame: ut 

there's a part of me that.... Look, 'm a teacher. This 

would end me."— Richard Morgan E 


THE TERMINUS OF THE KEYSTONE XL PIPELINE 
WILL BE IN PORT ARTHUR, TEXAS; WHO WILL 
REPRESENT THE INTEREST OF ALL TEXANS? 


crony capitalism or corporatism or stat- 
ist policy, but Republicans are getting 
pretty confused about their ideas of lim- 
ited government and free markets." 

Most of this jibes with the complaints of 
"Texas landowner Michael Bishop, a vocal 
opponent of the southern section of the 
Keystone XL project, which was praised 
by President Obama in March 2012 and 
is already completed on Bishop's land. 

"When my research led me to the truth 
aboutthis pipeline, I wasoutraged," Bishop 
writes via e-mail. He, like Medina, is afraid 
of a spill. A self-proclaimed libertarian, 
Bishop is also upset because landowners 
have little recourse to fight 
the project. 

“They have more rights 
than we do," he writes. 
"That is not equal pro- 
tection under the law, 
and the current laws are 
skewed in favor of the oil 
companies—unjustly.” 


we do. That 

is not equal 

protection 
under the law." 


enieve Long, 

a stay-at-home 

mother of four 

in Mayflower, 

Arkansas, 
didn't have any opinion 
about tar-sands oil—until it 
poured through her town. 
"I was never completely against them until 
the pipeline broke. And once I realized the 
devastation it can cause, I thought, This is 
ridiculous," she says. 

When the ExxonMobil pipeline 
ruptured in Mayflower in March, an 
estimated 5,000 barrels of dilbit rushed 
through town. Twenty-two homes (two 
of which ExxonMobil later bought) were 
evacuated as the goo pooled in a marshy 
cove of Lake Conway about 300 yards 
from Long's home. 


“The oil 
companies 
have more 
rights than 


"You immediately had the throat- 
burning sensation, lungs burning; it 
would take your breath away," says 
Long. "Then came the lasting respira- 
tory issues, migraines, nausea, vomiting, 
abdominal pain, confusion, skin rashes." 

These symptoms, she says, affect 
her and two of her children. But she 
says her medical claims were denied 
because the air quality is now deemed 
acceptable and the dilbit never 
physically touched her property. She is 
preparing a lawsuit, and she traveled to 
Washington, D.C. to speak out against 
the Keystone XL pipeline. 

ExxonMobil spokesman Aaron Stryk 
says the company's medical-claims hot- 
line is still open, as is its community 
information center, and the company 
has been paying all valid 
claims as determined by 
the Arkansas Department 
of Health. Many residents 
have complained that their 
symptoms were dismissed. 
"ExxonMobil Pipeline 
regrets the Mayflower 
spill and apologizes for 
the inconvenience we 
have caused the people of 
Arkansas," he adds. 

As symptoms linger, 
regular Mayflower com- 
munity meetings about 
the spill have been grow- 
ing in size. "They have 
seen what has taken place 
and the lack of communication from 
Exxon to the residents," Long says. 
“The level of trust from the citizens 
has completely diminished. And as the 
trust from these citizens diminishes, so 
diminishes their trust about the oil that 
runs through the rest of the country— 
Keystone XL and all the other pipelines 
too. The more these people screw over 
the citizens of this country, the less we 
have faith that this oil is what we need. 
We need to find something else." a 


FORUM 


Y 


READER RESPONSE 


as no surprise that truth as well as 
science is doubted. The internet, 
the decline of civil discourse once 
known as debate and the sensitiv- 
ity of modern journalism have only 
added to the cacophony. Separating 
shit from Shinola was Plato's true 
goal of education, but it seems that 
mission has been scrubbed. Perhaps 
now is the time to return to Plato, 
not out of ideology or inclination 
but out of necessity. 


James E. Brown 
Pinole, California 


THE RIGHT TO RESPOND 


Few of the readers who wrote 
in September about the U.S. 
government using drones to kill 
American citizens abroad seem 
to understand that without due 
process we are all targets. You 
may think your beliefs, actions 
and organizations would never 
cause the government to want 


L3 


РОВОМ а 


you dead, but you have по way 
of knowing until the moment it 
kills you. No matter how angry 
you get at someone accused of 
heinous acts based on what you 
read in the media (since that's the 
only evidence most of us have), 
the seriousness of a crime does 
not dictate whether a person 
qualifies for protection under the 
Constitution. Our justice system is 
the best in the world let it work. 
Everyone should have the chance 
to defend themselves, every time, 
or none of us will. 

Liz Feola 

Bethel, Connecticut 
E-mail letters@playboy.com. 
Or write 9346 Civic Center Drive, 
Beverly Hills, California 90210. 


61 


: ри | = 


E F STRAIGHT 1 ES | 
AÑ iN Bowen j — 
lj o WHISKEY `< 


., SERIOUSLY GOOD BOURBON. 


evanwilliams.com f 


amor www RAY KELLY 


A candid conversation with New York’s top cop about fighting crime and 
terrorists, why the police are lightning rods and how stop-and-frisk saves lives 


At 7:30 a.m. a bulletproof, armor-protected 
SUV rolls up to the door of a lower Manhattan 
high-rise. Two Goliath-size detectives jump out 
and whisk the city's top cop to One Police Plaza. 

Later that hot summer day, a stern-faced 
Raymond Kelly, New York City’s longest- 
serving police commissioner, appears before 
photographers, proudly displaying a MAC-10 
handgun, one of 254 weapons seized in the 
biggest gun bust in city history. 

The day before, he had appeared on NBC's 
Meet the Press, where he was grilled like an 
overdone steak on his controversial stop-and- 
frisk policy. In a headline-grabbing blow, a fed- 
eral judge had just deemed the policy unconsti- 
tutional, finding that police resorted to “indirect 
racial profiling.” A week later the City Council 
would also condemn the policy, and gleeful 
mayoral hopefuls vowed not to rehire Kelly. 

But the former marine, who at 72 still lifts 
weights daily, coolly addresses the firestorm, 
denying charges of discrimination and point- 
ing to the indisputable fact that murders are 
down almost 30 percent from last year’s all- 
time low. At the beginning of the year, his 
approval rating among New Yorkers was a 
stratospheric 75 percent. 

It's а 16-hour daily marathon for the super- 


star chief; who oversees the $4.6 billion budget of 


the nation’s largest police force: 50,000 people, 


including 1,000 counterterrorism agents who 
are part of a post-9/11 initiative that has helped 
keep New York City safe from another attack. 
To decompress, Kelly smoothly manages the 
social requirements of the position, whether at 
the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, a film 
festival with Robert De Niro, dinner with Cardi- 
nal Timothy Dolan or J. Los birthday barbecue. 
Not bad for the youngest of five siblings 
raised in a modest apartment on Manhattans 
Upper West Side by his father, James, a milk- 
man, and his mother, Elizabeth, a dressing- 
room attendant at Macy's. After a youthful 
stint as a police cadet and time in Vietnam as 
a marine, Kelly became a beat cop in 1966 
and began his meteoric rise, serving in 25 dif- 
ferent commands while also earning a master’s 
degree from Harvard, as well as two law de- 
grees. He was appointed police commissioner 
twice: first in 1992, serving for two years, and 
then in 2002, serving for the past 12. At press 
time, rumors swirled that he might go nation- 


al, replacing Janet Napolitano as secretary of 


homeland security. 

Kelly is chivalrous when it comes to his wife, 
Veronica; the couple recently marked their 
50th wedding anniversary. Their close-knit 
family includes sons Greg, the comedic co-host 
of Fox's Good Day New York, and James, a 
managing director at JPMorgan Chase. 


Author Glenn Plaskin, who recently inter- 
viewed Tony Robbins for PLAYBOY, met up with 
Kelly in his office bunker, over a dinner at the 
Four Seasons and at Kelly’s high-rise apartment 
with panoramic views of the Statue of Liberty. 

Plaskin reports: “Twas led by two detectives to 
Kellys inner sanctum, where I was surrounded 
by framed photos of him with presidents and 
mayors, personal pictures as a bushy-haired 
police cadet and as a Marine Corps colonel. 
Then into the room strode the man: ‘Here, have 
some cookies,’ he said lightheartedly. ‘It’s my 
birthday.’ Kelly’s number one trait is a Zen-like 
calm, an unruffled confidence—he is anything 
but battle-weary. He's laser focused and speaks 
sotto voce, revealing as much in his facial ex- 
pressions as in his words. 

“Regularly checking his BlackBerry, which 
continually vibrated with crime updates, Kelly 
sat behind a carved desk used by his hero, New 
York City police commissioner turned president 
Teddy Roosevelt. And that’s where we began.” 


PLAYBOY: Nice desk. 

KELLY: I had it restored. It looks better 
now than when he had it. 

PLAYBOY: Why is Teddy Roosevelt your 
favorite president? 

KELLY: He was a dynamo, though he’d 
been sickly as a child with asthma. He 


“I'm not bragging, but I have the highest job- 
approval rating of any public official in the city. 
The approval rating for the police department 
is 70 percent. This notion that stop-and-frisk 
has torn the community apart is false.” 


“No other agency is scrutinized like the police. 
Everything we do is in a goldfish bowl. We 
are not the mast popular people in society. We 
do things like use deadly force. We're not fire- 
fighters, who are viewed as helping people.” 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIUS BUGGE 


“New York City is the number one target. I 
knew we had to create our own counterter- 
rorism operation. We've been attacked twice 
and the federal government did not protect the 
city, though it may have had good intentions.” 


63 


PLAYBOY 


64 


built himself up, became a boxer, went to 
Harvard. He was a hunter and an expert 
on naval history. He had a photographic 
memory and read a book a day. He did 
everything with tremendous drive. 
PLAYBOY: You've often quoted from his 
“Man in the Arena” speech: “It is not 
the critic who counts. The credit belongs 
to the man who is actually in the arena, 
whose face is marred by dust and sweat 
and blood.” 

KELLY: Yes. It's easy to criticize from the 
sidelines, not responsible for anything 
good that happens in the world. It means 
that if you're in the arena, you're willing 
to accept the consequences of your ac- 
tions. You have to take some chances. 
PLAYBOY: And you're the guy in the arena. 
KELLY: That's right. 

PLAYBOY: With a face that has been 
marred by some dust. 

KELLY: [Laughs] Sure. 

PLAYBOY: When you're slammed in the 
press, does that linger into the night, or 
can you detach from it? 

KELLY: I am able to put it to the side. And 
alot of it I just don't read. I think that's a 
function of practice. When I had this job 
20 years ago, I was more sensitive, more 
cognizant of complaints and concerned 
about public opinion. I've learned to 
do what I think is the right thing. That 
lessens the impact of criticism. You get 
used to a pressurized environment and 
expect it every day. 

PLAYBOY: When you go to bed at night, 
do you sleep soundly? 

KELLY: I do. 

PLAYBOY: No Ambien? 

KELLY: [Laughs] No, I don't take any of 
that stuff. I might wake up in the middle 
of the night, and sometimes it's harder 
to get back to sleep, but I sleep well. 
PLAYBOY: When a negative TV report 
comes on about you, do you watch it? 
KELLY: Generally speaking, I have pretty 
good press. I don't think I've been un- 
fairly treated at all. But political people 
in a mayoral race will take shots at you. 
It doesn't really bother me. 

PLAYBOY: Even those blistering attacks on 
stop-and-frisk during the primary sea- 
son this summer? 

KELLY: The Republican candidates weren't 
attacking the policy. It was the Democrats. 
The reality is the Democratic primary is 
controlled by extreme elements of the 
party. The candidates know that, so they 
have to go to extremes themselves. 
PLAYBOY: What's your view of failed 
mayoral candidate Bill Thompson? He 
said, "Our kids should never be targeted 
for the color of their skin. ГЇЇ end racial 
profiling and stop-and-frisk and get 
illegal guns off the street." 

KELLY: How? Nobody asked him how. 
PLAYBOY: And Democratic nominee Bill 
de Blasio said, "Millions of innocent New 
Yorkers—overwhelmingly men of color— 
have been illegally stopped." What were 
they talking about? 

KELLY: They were talking about election- 


year politics. They were pandering to get 
votes. Whoever wins the primary always 
attempts to run back to the center and 
disavow the impact of what they've said. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think they were just full 
of shit? 

KELLY: Absolutely. 

PLAYBOY: When they used you as a politi- 
cal football in the televised debates, how 
did you react? 

KELLY: I resented it. I think I've had a 
long, distinguished career in public ser- 
vice. It just goes to show you what some 
politicians will do. They'll say or do any- 
thing to get elected. I know all these 
people. They all claimed to be friends of 
mine up until their mayoral campaigns. 
They'd call me on the phone and ask for 
information or come over here and sit in 
this chair to get briefed. 

PLAYBOY: Are you talking about Christine 
Quinn, speaker of the City Council, who 
was also a candidate? 

KELLY: I’m talking about all of them. 
PLAYBOY: But they turned against you. 
KELLY: It seems that way. 

PLAYBOY: Would you have wanted to 
work for any of these people? 


Notice what they never talk 
about—the lives being saved. 
During the past 11 years we 

had 7,363 fewer murders. 

Last year the homicide rate 

was the lowest in 50 years. 


KELLY: I don’t want to discuss it. 

PLAYBOY: We'll swing back to your plans 
later, but for now, does criticism over 
stop-and-frisk disturb you? 

KELLY: Look, I can understand the fas- 
cination with it, but it’s just one tool in 
a toolbox that has many other crime- 
fighting measures in it. What about our 
Real Time Crime Center, the first cen- 
tralized technology giving us instant 
data to stop emerging crime? Or Opera- 
tion Crew Cut, a successful effort to cur- 
tail gang activity, or Operation Impact, 
a unit that deploys officers to high-risk 
neighborhoods when there's a spike in 
crime? I'd add that over the course of 12 
years the NYPD became the most racially 
diverse department in the nation. We 
expanded our ranks with officers from 
106 countries. We now have more black, 
Asian and Hispanic officers than white. 
PLAYBOY: Are you getting the attention 
you think you deserve for that? 

KELLY: Good news is not news. Bad news 
sells. Confrontation sells. And that's 
what the press is always looking for. 
Look, I'm not bragging, but I have the 
highest job-approval rating of any public 


official in the city. And I've had it consis- 
tently. The approval rating for the police 
department is 70 percent. This notion 
that stop-and-frisk has torn the commu- 
nity apart is false. 

PLAYBOY: Many mayoral candidates 
agreed with the federal judge that stop- 
and-frisk is unconstitutional and that it 
must be overhauled. 

KELLY: Notice what they never talk 
about—the lives being saved. During 
the past 11 years we had 7,363 fewer 
murders than we had in the 11 years 
before. Last year the homicide rate was 
the lowest in at least 50 years. And this 
year we're running about 30 percent 
below that. You haven't heard one 
candidate talk about that or what they 
would do to keep this record going 
forward. I know we're saving lives, and I 
know we're doing the right thing. 
PLAYBOY: Then why, according to an exit 
poll of Democrats taken on primary day 
in September, did 59 percent deem the 
NYPD's stop-and-frisk policy excessive? 
KELLY: What you have is government by 
advocacy group. Among the people, 
there's no groundswell against stop-and- 
frisk—certainly not in minority commu- 
nities. I'm there all the time. They want 
more proactive policing. 

PLAYBOY: You're basically talking about 
parents, right? 

KELLY: Parents, yes, because they are be- 
ing victimized. They are the losers in this 
if their son or daughter is killed. The 
lives saved are largely those of young 
men of color. 

PLAYBOY: Then why did a federal judge 
deem the policy unconstitutional? 

KELLY: That's a question for her. In the 
court case, the plaintiffs’ expert looked at 
4.4 million stops and found only six per- 
cent were "unjustified." In the court case, 
the judge looked at 19 stops and found 
10 of them were constitutional. 

PLAYBOY: So she made her ruling on—— 
KELLY: The flimsiest of evidence. And the 
decision deserves to be appealed. 
PLAYBOY: So what are the criteria for a po- 
lice officer to stop someone on the street? 
KELLY: You can be stopped if a police offi- 
cer reasonably suspects a crime is about to 
be committed, is being committed or has 
been committed. Every law enforcement 
agency does it. It's essential to policing. 
PLAYBOY: So you didn't invent it. 

KELLY: No. There is a 1968 Supreme 
Court case, Terry v. Ohio, that validates 
this procedure. Virtually all states use 
some variation of it. 

PLAYBOY: Since 86 percent of the 
5 million people stopped in the past 11 
years were black or Latino, how is this 
not racial profiling? 

KELLY: What criteria do you use? The 
federal judge says you look at the census 
data ofa particular neighborhood and at 
overall crime to determine whether ra- 
cial profiling is going on. That makes no 
sense, because half your stops would be 
women. In New York, 70 to 75 percent 


of the descriptions of perpetrators of vi- 
olent crime are black men; the vast ma- 
jority of the remainder is Latino. And 97 
percent of shooting victims are black or 
Latino. Our stops are 53 percent black 
and roughly 35 percent Hispanic. 
PLAYBOY: On Nightline last spring you 
stated that African Americans are actual- 
ly being “understopped.” Do you stand 
by that? 

KELLY: I don't like the term understopped 
because it seems pejorative. I would say 
our stops comport to the population of 
the perpetrators of violent crime as de- 
scribed by the victims themselves. 
PLAYBOY: So you're not overdoing it? 
KELLY: Right. 

PLAYBOY: Can you understand how some 
young men of color who have been 
stopped for no reason may hate your guts? 
KELLY: I don't agree. The notion of hatred 
has been stirred up by a small number of 
advocacy groups that have done a great 
job at marketing this concept. You might 
read something snarky on Twitter, but I 
could take you right now to 125th Street 
in Harlem and young men will stop me 
for my picture and give me a very favor- 
able and friendly greeting. They un- 
derstand that we're saving lives in their 
community, that they're the ones at risk. 
PLAYBOY: To be clear, what are the officers 
not allowed to do? 

KELLY: They're not allowed to stop some- 
one based on their race. They're not 
allowed to stop someone based on less 
than reasonable suspicion. 

PLAYBOY: But you focus your efforts in 
black and Latino neighborhoods. 

KELLY: Well, that's where the crime is. 
That's where the shootings are. That's 
where the violence is. And that's where 
we put our resources. 

PLAYBOY: Put yourself in the shoes of a 
17-year-old black teenager dressed in 
a hoodie and baggy pants, earplugs in, 
listening to music, a can of Coke in his 
pocket. You're on your way home and 
haven't done anything wrong. Out of the 
blue, cops stop you. Is that fair? 

KELLY: It depends on why he's being 
stopped. Was there a description on the 
radio of somebody committing a crime 
who looked like that young man? Was 
somebody fleeing a particular area? Is 
there gang activity there? Or did they 
think his can of Coke was a weapon? 
Stopping him is a legitimate law enforce- 
ment function. 

PLAYBOY: But he won't be stopped just 
because he's black or because of what 
he's wearing? 

KELLY: No, absolutely not. You need rea- 
sonable suspicion. 

PLAYBOY: Are you saying it has never 
happened that someone was stopped 
for no reason? 

KELLY: I can't say it has never happened. 
We have hundreds of thousands of stops a 
year. But generally stops happen for a le- 
gitimate reason, with reasonable suspicion. 
PLAYBOY: And the criteria for a frisk? 


KELLY: Frisks happen in about half the 
stops and only when the officer can ar- 
ticulate a fear for his or her safety, and it 
is a limited pat-down, not a search. 
PLAYBOY: What's the limit on the pat-down? 
KELLY: Exterior clothing. 

PLAYBOY: They don't go into private areas. 
KELLY: Right. 

PLAYBOY: Are there any times you agree 
the police have been overzealous? 

KELLY: Hey, we're human beings. We have 
50,000 employees. We have 7,000 pieces 
of rolling stock. We have 275 buildings. 
We have 23 million citizen contacts a 
year. There are 12 million calls to 911. 
We effect about 400,000 arrests a year 
and give out 500,000 summonses. One 
year we had 680,000 stops. The numbers 
are big. Can we make mistakes? Yeah. 
No other agency is scrutinized like the 
police. Everything we do is in a goldfish 
bowl. We are not the most popular peo- 
ple in society. We do things like use dead- 
ly force; we're the bearers of bad news. 
We're not firefighters, who are viewed as 
heroic, helping people, with people lov- 
ing them back. The police have a much 
more complex and demanding job. 


Frisks happen in about 
half the stops and only when 
the officer can articulate a 
fear for his or her safety, 
and it is a limited pat-down, 
not a search. 


PLAYBOY: The New York Times called the 
City Council's decision to increase stop- 
and-frisk oversight "a stinging personal 
defeat for Mayor Bloomberg." What do 
you call it? 

KELLY: I call it a defeat for the citizens of 
New York City. It doesn't take a brain 
surgeon to figure out that if you stop or 
curtail stop-and-frisk, or if cops are re- 
luctant to do it, violent crimes are going 
to go up. 

PLAYBOY: Has this whole subject given 
you agita? 

KELLY: No. 

PLAYBOY: You don't feel aggravated? 
KELLY: Not at all. This is my business. 
PLAYBOY: President Obama gave an im- 
promptu speech last July that focused 
on the realities of growing up black in 
America, how Trayvon Martin could 
have been him 35 years ago. Some view 
stop-and-frisk as an institutional version 
of what Obama was describing. 

KELLY: I know this is a sensitive issue to 
the African American community. I 
would point out that the Trayvon Martin 
and George Zimmerman encounter was 
between two private citizens. It didn't 


have to do with the stop-and-frisk issue 
directly. But I realize it was an event that 
people rallied around. They believe the 
judicial system isn't fair, and in many 
people's minds the Trayvon Martin case 
was the manifestation of this unfairness. 
PLAYBOY: What was New York like back 
in 2002, when your current term began? 
KELLY: The Bloomberg administration 
came in just three and a half months af- 
ter 9/11, and there was all sorts of gloom 
and doom in the press. It wasn't a ques- 
tion of if New York was going to be at- 
tacked again by terrorists, it was when. It 
wasn't a question of if crime was going to 
go up, it was by how much. It was a pes- 
simistic time. Expecting more mayhem 
to break out, people were leaving the 
city. The traffic in Times Square was so 
light I could drive from there to down- 
town in 12 minutes. No traffic. It was as 
if New York had been evacuated. 
PLAYBOY: A semi-ghost town. 

KELLY: Yes. New York City was the 
number one target in America—and 
it still is. I knew we had to create our 
own counterterrorism operation, since 
the federal government alone couldn't 
protect us. So we brought in high- 
level officials from the FBI, CIA and 
Marines and created a cadre of first-class 
intelligence analysts. We deploy more 
than 1,000 officers to counterterrorism 
duties every day, and we have NYPD 
officers assigned in 11 foreign cities. 
PLAYBOY: Wouldn't the FBI, CIA and 
NSA have been enough to rely on? 
KELLY: No. We've been attacked here 
twice and the federal government did 
not protect the city, though it may have 
had good intentions. We know now that 
one of the reasons the terrorists weren't 
intercepted on 9/11 was due to a lack 
of cooperation—and communication— 
between the FBI and the CIA. 

PLAYBOY: How many attacks have been 
averted in 12 years? 

KELLY: Sixteen—including the Brooklyn 
Bridge, the New York Stock Exchange, 
Times Square, Herald Square, the sub- 
way system and JFK airport. 

PLAYBOY: You say you sleep well, but what 
one fear could keep you up at night? 
KELLY: Obviously the major concern, 
though it's the least probable one, with 
the greatest consequences, would be 
nuclear detonation or a dirty bomb with 
radiological material. 

PLAYBOY: Are there any preventive mea- 
sures against it? 

KELLY: Yes. We have a radiation-detection 
plan that includes radiation equipment 
on police officers, on helicopters and on 
our boats. 

PLAYBOY: If a plane flying above us had 
a nuclear bomb onboard, could you 
detect it? 

KELLY: No, I wouldn't say that. We're 
looking for nuclear devices coming in by 
land or by ship. 

PLAYBOY: On a visceral level, you must 
hate these terrorists. 


65 


PLAYBOY 


66 


KELLY: On one level, yes, but protecting 
the city is my job, which doesn't trans- 
late into hatred. This is war, and in most 
wars, professional soldiers don't hate the 
enemy. Hatred can blind you in ways 
that mar your judgment. 

PLAYBOY: If the city should come under 
attack, could you manage the emergency 
response from your SUV? 

KELLY: Well, yes, we hope so. We have a 
lot of phones, a fax machine, satellite 
television, bullet-resistant vests. 

PLAYBOY: Is it bomb-resistant? 

KELLY: Both the body of the car and the 
doors are armored. 

PLAYBOY: Is it true that if New York City 
were under attack, the NYPD could, as 
you mentioned in a 60 Minutes interview, 
actually shoot down a plane? 

KELLY: One of our concerns is that a crop 
duster could take off from a field in New 
Jersey, fly over Manhattan and distribute 
a material such as anthrax. What could 
we do? Would we wait for a fighter jet 
to be marshaled? No. So we procured 
semiautomatic 50-caliber rifles, the most 
powerful rifle you can get. Now we have 
the capability to shoot down a small, 
slow-moving plane from our helicopters. 
PLAYBOY: But could you stop a jet that is 
on the attack? 

KELLY: No, not a jet that is going 550 
miles an hour. 

PLAYBOY: Looking back at that day when 
two planes flew into the Twin Towers, 
did you ever think those buildings could 
fall the way they did? 

KELLY: No, never. I remember when I 
was police commissioner the first time, 
sitting in the basement of the World 
Trade Center on the night of February 
26, 1993. Terrorists had detonated a 
van bomb there that afternoon. An 
engineer was telling me, "This building 
could never come down." That bombing 
should have been a huge wake-up call 
for the country, and it wasn't. 

PLAYBOY: Why not? 

KELLY: It was dismissed in some quarters 
as an act of amateurs. I'm not certain 
who you put the ultimate blame on, but 
the reality was we didn't learn many les- 
sons from it. 

PLAYBOY: On the morning of 9/11, you 
were working in private industry, at 
Bear Stearns. What do you remember? 
KELLY: I was in the executive dining room 
when somebody came in and told me 
a small plane had hit the World Trade 
Center. I went up to the highest floor of 
a nearby building and stood there watch- 
ing the whole thing. When I saw the first 
tower crumble, I thought back to what 
that engineer told me. A few weeks later, 
my wife, Veronica, and I stood on the 
roof of our apartment building right 
across the street from ground zero. Ve- 
ronica was crying, and I was stunned by 
the enormity of the devastation. A large 
part of our neighborhood was literally 
gone. Total devastation. The magazine 
stand we went to across the street van- 


ished. Standing up there that day was a 
moment of clarity for me. 

PLAYBOY: So after Bloomberg was elected, 
you accepted the offer to return as police 
commissioner. 

KELLY: I realized this was war, and I didn't 
want to be on the sidelines. I wanted to 
get back into the game. 

PLAYBOY: Republican Pete King, the chair 
ofthe House Subcommittee on Counter- 
terrorism and Intelligence, recently said, 
"Al Qaeda is in many ways stronger than 
it was before 9/11 because it has mutated 
and spread." Do you agree? 

KELLY: I don't disagree. We know that 
core Al Qaeda, headquartered in tribal 
areas of Pakistan, has been degraded 
significantly as a result of drone strikes. 
But surrogates of the franchise have 
sprung up in the Arabian Peninsula, in 
northern Africa—Libya, Tunisia—and in 
Iraq and Syria. 

PLAYBOY: What you're saying seems to 
cast doubt on President Obama's claims 
that Al Qaeda has been "decimated" 
and is “on the path to defeat," state- 
ments he has made 32 times since the 
attack in Benghazi. 


We believe we're going to 
be confronting Al Qaeda 
for a long time to come. It 
seems to be able to regroup, 
rebound and spread its 
reach to other continents. 


KELLY: We believe we're going to be con- 
fronting Al Qaeda for a long time to come. 
It seems to be able to regroup, rebound 
and spread its reach to other continents. 
PLAYBOY: Then why is Obama giving this 
more optimistic viewpoint? 

KELLY: The threat is still very much with 
us, strong, if not stronger than it was in 
2001. Al Qaeda is robust. 

PLAYBOY: How safe is New York City to- 
day from another attack? 

KELLY: New York is safer than it has 
been—and it's getting safer. But it's 
never safe. As the financial and com- 
munications capital of the world, this is 
where terrorists want to make a state- 
ment, where they get the most bang for 
the buck. 

PLAYBOY: Let's talk about surveillance 
cameras. 

KELLY: We now have about 7,000 cam- 
eras citywide—4,000 of them positioned 
in lower Manhattan. Some are "smart" 
cameras, capable of video analytics. Let's 
say you want to track a suspect who was 
wearing a yellow shirt at two p.m. three 
weeks ago. The cameras are color-, 
shape- and movement-sensitive, so we 


can feed that information into a com- 
puter and the picture comes up. 
PLAYBOY: Ever since the passage of the 
Patriot Act, privacy advocates have 
been concerned about spying on law- 
abiding citizens. 

KELLY: These privacy advocates are hard 
to find. A Quinnipiac University poll 
taken last spring found that more than 
80 percent of New Yorkers want more 
cameras in public areas. 

PLAYBOY: In fact, you've said the people 
who complain about it are a "relatively 
small number of folks, because the genie 
is out of the bottle." What did you mean? 
KELLY: If you go into any department store 
these days, your picture is probably taken 
30 times. In London there are 500,000 
cameras in public spaces. You have no 
expectation of privacy in public spaces. 
PLAYBOY: But you can understand why 
people would be appalled that their 
phone conversations are being examined. 
KELLY: They're not being examined. 
They're being warehoused. The poten- 
tial to get into the calls requires going 
to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance 
Court to get authority to look into them. 
I think Edward Snowden was talking 
about violations of that requirement, 
something the NSA has to address. 
PLAYBOY: After Snowden revealed top- 
secret mass surveillance programs in the 
U.S., why did you criticize the NSA's se- 
crecy over phone-records collection? 
KELLY: I don't think it should ever have 
been made secret. I think the existence 
of the program should have been made 
known, because people in this post-9/11 
world would generally accept the fact that 
calls are being gathered and, as I said, put 
to the side. If they had been assured calls 
were accessible only as a result of judicial 
direction, they would be less concerned. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think Snowden is a 
traitor or a patriot? 

KELLY: He's a traitor and a violator of the 
law. He's not a whistle-blower, because 
he didn't go to Congress or to any of 
his bosses. He did this on his own and 
hurt, some say irreparably, the defenses 
of this country. And you can't operate a 
government like that. You need some 
confidentiality to operate in today's world. 
PLAYBOY: But do you see the danger of 
all this surveillance turning us into an 
Orwellian culture, a police state where 
everything is being monitored? 

KELLY: Well, I think it's something that 
should have limits. 

PLAYBOY: Like what? 

KELLY: Do I think we should have cameras 
on every block? No. It would help us in 
terms of investigations, but I understand 
the sensitivity to doing it. 

PLAYBOY: On the subject of surveil- 
lance, you faced criticism in 2011 when 
the Associated Press began a Pulitzer 
Prize-winning series about the NYPD's 
expansive spy program that used closed- 
circuit cameras and undercover agents 
to keep close (continued on page 166) 


So Smooth! 


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< e 
pee". 


Why would a wealthy businessman walk away from money and comfort 


to devote his life to freeing wrongly convicted prisoners? 
Jim McCloskey has his reasons—and a surprising record of success 


By Neal Gabler Photography by Marius Bugge 
69 


70 


pr $ 


On a hot, steamy morning last July, a 
dozen people convened in a red-brick 
courthouse in McRae, Georgia, which 
is literally a two-stoplight town. Most 
of them had gotten together years ear- 
lier, though the circumstances of the 
first meeting were considerably more 
pleasant. It was January 31, 1992, and 
they had gathered at the Golden Corral 
restaurant in Hinesville, Georgia for 
the wedding-rehearsal dinner of Mark 
Jones and his sweetheart, Dawn Burgett, 
who were to be married the following 
afternoon in the chapel at Fort Stewart, 
where Jones, a private in the Army, was 
stationed. The mood then was jovial, ac- 
cording to Jones's mother. After dinner, 
at about 9:30 р.м., Jones and two Army 
buddies, Ken Gardiner and Dominic 
Lucci, milled about in the parking lot 
with the other guests. Jones was a tee- 
totaler and something of a recluse, but 
his friends wanted to throw him a bach- 
elor party by taking him to a strip club 
for one last night of freedom, and Bur- 
gett encouraged him to go. So the boys 
piled into Gardiner's Chevy Cavalier, 
destined for a nearby club. When they 
arrived, Jones, who was only 20, was 
carded, so the friends headed for an- 
other club, Tops Lounge, which Lucci 
had once visited, about an hour away in 
Savannah. When they arrived at Tops, 
Jones was carded again, but a customer 
there suggested another club he was 
sure Jones would be admitted to. So the 
three hopped back into the car—and 
promptly got lost. They were passing the 
Savannah police headquarters, known as 
the Barracks, when they stopped to ask a 
female officer they saw outside for direc- 
tions. And thus began a 21-year odyssey 
that has yet to end. 

That's because the officer had just 
returned from a murder scene where a 
35-year-old drug addict named Stanley 
Jackson had been gunned down in a 
drive-by shooting, and she had in tow 


the only eyewitness to the crime: James 
White, a 38-year-old evangelical preacher 
who was entering his home when Jackson 
was killed in a nearby intersection. 
White told the officer that the car carry- 
ing Jones, Gardiner and Lucci “looked 
like” the car he had seen speeding away. 
Shortly afterward the three were pulled 
from the strip club and lined up against a 
wall, where White said, “That's what they 
were wearing.” They were then brought 
to the Barracks. Burgett got a call from 
Jones at about two А.м., telling her he 
had been arrested. After a visit to the 
jail, she returned to the chapel later that 
morning and posted a sign on the door: 
WEDDING OF DAWN BUR JD MARK JONES 
CANCELED DUE TO FAMILY EME 

It was a short trial. At the time, Savan- 
nah was a racial cauldron due largely 
to a violent drug gang headed by a 
sociopath named Ricky Jivens. The city's 
new mayor, who had taken office just 
weeks before Jackson's death, had been 
elected with a substantial black vote on 
a platform of crime prevention, and the 
prosecution of three white soldiers for 
the murder of a black man helped fulfill 
her promise of racial evenhandedness. 
At trial the defendants adduced a "time 
alibi"—they couldn't possibly have got- 
ten from Hinesville to Savannah in time 
to commit the murder, much less pick up 
AK-47s, the weapons with which Jackson 
had presumably been killed. There was 
absolutely no forensic evidence connect- 
ing them to the crime, save a trace of 
gunshot residue on the back of Jones's 
hand that was explained away by his 
having moved gear that had been on 
the gunnery range earlier that day. But 
the prosecutor said they had motive. He 
claimed the three were addicts of the 
role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons 
and had tried to actualize the game by 


Met loskey is nol 
only Iheir last hope, 
he is their only hope. 


slaying an “evil” person. Adding a second 
motive, he brought a member of Jones's 
outfit to the stand to say Jones had threat- 
ened to kill a black man that weekend, 
even though none of the defendants had 
a history of violence or racial prejudice. 
And then there was James White, who 
had identified the men as the perpetra- 
tors. The jury was out only a few hours 
before returning a guilty verdict. The 
three were sentenced to life. 

The boys' attorneys filed appeals. 


They even collected affidavits from 
seven members of the jury, who testified 
to several instances of misconduct, 
including a jury member who had 
declared the three guilty before the trial 
had begun. All were denied. The boys' 
families stayed in touch for a while, and 
then they didn't. "It was too painful," 
says Jones's mother, Deborah. Burgett 
remained devoted to Jones, but he 
wanted her to get on with her life, so 
he told her he didn't love her anymore, 
which broke her heart. She eventually 
married someone else. The boys did their 
time without a blemish on their records. 
Jones studied, collected certificates in 
everything from woodworking to engine 
repair and began teaching other inmates 
how to get a GED. Their parents would 
visit a few times a year—none of them 


lived in Georgia—and the boys could 
talk with them on the phone, but the 
calls were collect and cost nearly $20, 
so these were rationed every few weeks. 
Meanwhile, the attorneys moved on 
when the families couldn't pay them. 
And that is where the case would have 
rested, were it not for the neat, short 
man with a fringe of gray hair, sitting 
behind the petitioners’ counsel in the 
McRae courtroom on that sweltering 
morning last July, his face grimly reso- 
lute. His name is Jim McCloskey, and 
for the Savannah Three, as well as for 
some 80 other convicts sentenced to life 
in prison or to death, he is not only their 
last hope, he is their only hope. Fortu- 
nately, he is a pretty good hope to have. 
McCloskey is the founder and ex- 
ecutive director of Centurion Minis- 
tries, which is dedicated to freeing the 
wrongly convicted. Dominic Lucci wrote 
Centurion in 2000, trying to enlist its 
help, and then again in 2003, insisting 
he wouldn't take no for an answer. Lucci 
couldn't have known that getting Centu- 
rion to take a case is a little like winning 
the Powerball lottery. Centurion receives 
1,100 requests from prisoners each 
year and selects only one to three cases 
to advocate. Each request is examined 
by Centurion's small staff to see if the 


71 


prisoner qualifies for the group's assis- 
tance. Does he profess innocence rather 
than invoke a legal technicality? Have his 
appeals been exhausted? Is the prisoner 
indigent? Only after answering these in 
the affirmative does the staff delve into 
the trial record. In the case of the Savan- 
nah Three, this selection process alone 
took nearly six years, and it ended, as all 
selection processes end, with McCloskey 
going to the prisons and interviewing the 
convicts at length to determine not only 
whether they are innocent but also wheth- 
er they are "good people," people who 
would live a productive life if released. 

As long as the selection process takes, 
the process of trying to gain a prisoner's 
freedom usually takes even longer— 
typically five to 10 years, during which 
the prisoners are still incarcerated, 


still doing time for crimes McCloskey 
is convinced they did not commit. 
Sometimes it is a matter of gaining an 
acquittal through a retrial, sometimes 
a matter of gaining freedom via parole, 
sometimes a matter of having a conviction 
reversed through an evidentiary hearing 
at which new evidence is introduced and 
a judge renders a verdict, which is what 


On average, each client has 
spent more Ihan 20 years in jail. 


— УУ 


exonerate the 


to find Jai 


les in 1987. 


McCloskey won in that McRae courtroom 
for the Savannah Three. The good news 
is that in its 33 years of existence, CM 
has worked on 87 cases and won 51 
releases, an astonishing record when one 
considers that once a person is convicted, 
there is a presumption of guilt, not of 
innocence. On average, each CM client 
had spent more than 20 years in jail. 
And there is something else about Cen- 
turion that makes these numbers even 
more remarkable. Although it is hardly 
the only group dedicated to reversing 
wrongful convictions—there are some 75 
"innocence projects" in America today— 
nearly all these organizations concen- 
trate exclusively on exculpatory DNA 
evidence. McCloskey admits DNA is now 
so popular with courts that non-DNA 
cases are practically orphans. Centurion 
doesn't forswear DNA if it is available, but 
it specializes in (continued on page 158) 


— 


“Okay, this 'outdoing the neighbors with the decorations' thing has finally gone too far!” 


These photos ИЛ ШҮ 
are enough. makes snowman blush 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY VIKTOR KRASNOV 


cold, to he exact. But that didn't | 
deter Olga Ogneva from shedding 
Sie clothés for this photo shoot. The 
e enchantress revels in the 
^h E C cold—she's even enough to swim in | 
> » an ice hole every Orthodox Epiphany. "I | 


8 it’s cold outside. Five degrees 


care nothing about the snow and frost,” 
she assured with a smile. While winters 


m 
in Ukraine can get downright glacial, 

the Eastern European country has also 
produced much heat in the lovely forms 
of Milla Jovovich, Mila Kunis and Olga 
Kurylenko. As our Olga frolicked nude 
in the snow we asked her about her life 
goals. She answered that she wants to 
give people around her joy and warmth. 
Mission accomplished. 


MINUTES . 


y father emigrated as a child with 
his parents from Poland. His fa- 
ther, Michael, worked in the South 
Chicago mills. When my father 
was 12, Michael suffered 
a beating that sent him 


to Dunning, a county BY 


STUART 
DYBEK 


mental hospital. In Chicago, the name 
Dunning was synonymous with insane asy- 
lum, nuthouse, booby hatch. When I was a 
kid, teachers invoked it as a threat: “Keep 
that up and you're going to Dunning." A. 
siren provoked the warning "They're com- 
ing from Dunning for you!" Incarceration in a place 
that mythical stigmatized one's entire family. As the 
eldest son, my father had to drop out of school to 
help the family of seven survive. While working his 


way up to foreman at Harvester, he managed to finish 
high school at night and even took a couple of col- 
lege courses in mechanical drawing. His dream was 
that I'd be the mechanical engineer he'd never had 
the chance to become. When, in my fresh- 
man year at a high school famous for its 
boxing program, I told him I wanted to join 
the boxing team, he told me no way. The 
beating that left my grandfather a vegetable 
on the city dole still reverberated through a 
generation unimagined at the time. 

.In my grandfather's time, there were 
taverns that sponsored illegal fights on 
paydays. Men bet on their local champions, and the 
fighters fought bare-knuckle under the streetlights in 
the alley behind the tavern. My grandfather fought, 
mostly drunk, every other (continued on page 175) 


ILLUSTRATION BY THE HEADS OF STATE 


OF THE RING 


Q1 


PLAYBOY: You've had a 
busy year, with parts on 
30 Rock and in 2 Guns, 
Lee Daniels' The Butler 
and now Anchorman 2: 
The Legend Continues, 
Are you allowed to 

pick favorites? 
MARSDEN: X-Men fans 
may be let down, but 
Anchorman 2 is the first 
movie in my career I've 
wanted to see after I fin- 
ished it. I tested for the 
role of Brian Fantana , 
in the original and was 
bummed I didn't get 
cast. In this one play 
Will Ferrell's nemesis, 

a rival anchor named 
Jack Lime. It's 1980, at 
the start of the 24-hour- 
news era, and Ron Bur- 
gundy is moving from 
San Diego to New York. 
I'm an obsessed Anchor- 
man fan. 


Q2 


PLAYBOY: Were you 
the quote-spouting 
movie nerd on set? 
MARSDEN: Ha! "I'm in 
a glass case of emotion!" 
Love that one. What's 
weird is, Steve Carell 
and Will would sit there 
and say, "Didn't this 
happen in the original? 
Didn't you say this?” 
They couldn’t remember 
their own movie. I kept 
thinking, How can they 
not know every line 
from one of the greatest 
comedies of our time? 


Q3 


PLAYBOY: How hard 

is it to keep a straight 
face when you're staring 
across at Ron's mustache? 
MARSDEN: My primary 
thought was always, Do 


HE WAS BOSSED 
AROUND BY TINA 

FEY, PLAYED CYCLOPS 
IN X-MEN AND NOW 
MEETS HIS TOUGHEST 
FOE: THE WORLD'S 
FUNNIEST ANCHORMAN 


BY DAVID HOCHMAN 


84 


not fuck this up. After that, my goal was 
to get Will to bust up. Will's so tough, 
man. He really holds it together. But we 
had this scene where he's pleading with 
me, and I raised my voice with so much 
volume and conviction, the corner of 
his mouth started to curl up—just a 
little, but enough to feel like maybe I 
can hang with him now. 


Q4 
PLAYBOY: You grew up around 
Oklahoma City. Your father is a food 
scientist at Kansas State University and 
your mother works in the food service 
industry. Were you starstruck when you 
first got into the business? 
MARSDEN: The first time I met a 
celebrity I was 16. We were on vacation 
in Hawaii, staying at the same hotel as 
Kirk Cameron's family. He wasn't there, 
but his sisters were. Candace was on Full 
House. They were flirty, and we hung out 
by the pool the whole trip. They invited 
me to Los Angeles, and I flew out to see 
a taping of Growing Pains and Full House. 


Q5 
PLAYBOY: Was that how you made 
your Hollywood connections? 
MARSDEN: Not really, but I did meet 
the dialect coach from Growing Pains, 


who introduced me to Leonardo 
DiCaprio. Leo was on the show's final 
season. A few years later, after I'd moved 
to L.A., I played two-on-two basketball at 
the Oakwood Apartments, and one day 
we needed a guy, so I called Leo to play. 
He said sure. It was just as his career was 
taking off. But that wasn't my favorite 
celebrity encounter from those days. 


G6 
PLAYBOY: What was better? 
MARSDEN: There's a place where you 
can ride horses under the Hollywood 
sign and then go to a Mexican restau- 
rant. Everyone gets drunk on tequila 
and rides the horses back. Great idea, 
right? Anyway, Fabio was on the ride 
with us, and I remember thinking, This 
town is so fucking awesome. 


Q7 
PLAYBOY: Who were your heroes 
growing up? 
MARSDEN: Han Solo and Indiana 
Jones. I was a big Harrison Ford fan. 


G8 
PLAYBOY: Did you ever meet him? 
MARSDEN: I did the last season of Ally 
McBeal, and it was right when Harrison 
was starting to date Calista Flockhart. I 


WHAT'S WEIRD IS, 
STEVE CARELL AND 
WILL FERRELL WOULD 
SAY, “DIDN'T THIS 
HAPPEN IN THE 
ORIGINAL?” THEY 
COULDN'T REMEMBER 
THEIR OWN MOVIE. 


had become friends with her, and one 
night she said, “Come to dinner with 
me and Harrison.” I'm like, “Me, you 
and him?" It turned out to be a small 
group of us, thankfully, but I ended 

up as her wingman. We had dinner 
someplace in Brentwood and then went 
back to his house. He put music on and 
made everybody drinks. He was giggly 
and goofy around her but pretty aloof 
with the rest of us. I kept thinking we 
should leave the two of them alone, 

but Calista was like, “Don't leave, don't 
leave, don't leave." I’m making him 
sound like a rapist, but he was very hos- 


pitable. She (continued on page 156) 


“How many times do you have to sleep with someone before you put them on your Christmas card list?” 


85 


TURNED 


By Rachel Rabbit White 


88 


ow can I make 
money?” Lit by the 
electronic blue of a 
laptop, Brittany Jean 
scrolled through 
the responses from 
Google. She tried 
again: "How can I 
make money with 
naked photos?" 

Hours later Brittany 
Jean stripped down, 
set the self-timer on 
her digital camera 
and posted her pho- 
tos to MyGirlFund, 
a site that allows 
women to sign up 
and sell nude videos 
or photos to a com- 
munity of members. 
When her husband came home from the 
late shift, Brittany Jean pretended to be 
asleep and, after he'd drifted off, slipped 
back to the computer. "The first two days 
I made $400 from photos alone. Then 
Istarted camming at $5 a minute," she 
says. This was what she led with when 
breaking the news to her husband days 
later: "Five dollars a minute—I mean, 
that's what some people make an hour!" 
Skyping from a cream-colored bedroom 
in her Arkansas home, wearing a black 
top and smoky eye shadow, she shifts, 
revealing pajama pants below the screen, 
a look any girl who works from home 
would recognize. 

The new job brought out her sense 
of competition. She watched hours of 
YouTube makeup tutorials, lost weight 
and got her boobs done—a splurge with 
the money from camming, her first "real" 
job. "At first I wanted to brag on myself,” 
says Brittany Jean, who has lived in the 
same small town in Arkansas all her life. 
She laughs, touching her ash-blonde 
extensions. “I told everybody. But now ГЇЇ 
go out and a girl I don't know working a 
cash register will ask if I'm still camming. 
I didn't realize at first that I would get 
the judgment." 

At any given time thousands of Brittany 
Jeans are available on cam sites such as 
MyGirlFund, LiveJasmin, Streamate 
and MyFreeCams. For a fee they allow 
strangers to see them naked or watch 
them have sex. Or masturbate. Or wash 
their hair. Or smoke. Becoming a cam 
girl is relatively easy: The application 
process involves submitting photos and 
answering a few questions: "Are you at 
least 18 years old?" "What is your full legal 
name?" "Tell us a little about yourself." 
In the world of sex work, it's a good gig: 
It's legal, and unlike other iterations it 
involves no physical interaction and no 
pressure from producers or directors. 
Cam girls can kick out rude users, make 
their own hours, set their own rates and 
keep a large share of the money. 

All these factors have helped the cam- 
ming industry thrive at a time when the 


rest of the porn world is shaky: Stream- 
ing is killing DVDs, pirating is killing 
streaming, and amateurs are using Vine 
and Snapchat to make their own porn. 
Basically, the Ferraris have been traded 
for BMWs. Camming is the bright spot. 
In 2011 LiveJasmin was declared the 
most popular adult site on the internet, 
period. Today it generates more web 
traffic than Hulu, Best Buy or FedEx. 
"It's hard to pinpoint exact numbers, 
but annual revenue for camming sites is 
well over a billion dollars," says Stefan 
Patrick, director of business develop- 
ment at MyGirlFund, where Brittany 
Jean got her start. 

But on the business end, the two 
industries—porn and camming—are 
increasingly one and the same. Porn 
companies see cash in the intimate expe- 
rience offered by cam sites and view it as 
amateur content that can be monetized 
by the industry—or rather by the hand- 
ful of global-reaching companies that 
bought up most of the industry during 
the recession. Culturally, our views of 
obscenity shift with each new technologi- 
cal advancement—print to film to home 
video to the internet. Now technology 
has us once again (continued on page 171) 


“Us hard work, 
right?" Amber Lynn 


BELOW: Nikki Hearts cams from her 
СА. home between: porn shoots. 


BOTTOM: Aaliyah Love was a preschool 
teacher before her camming career. 


PHOTO BY NICK FARRELL 


"Okay, I get it—you'rre jolly. Now show me what's in the bag.” 


89 


SAUNA 


4 


++ = 
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1 b ` í *. V NEM / $ 
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de WE 4 Pim 2 ч s 
E. 2 + 
Talkin Bout Your 


Isthe Greatest 
Generation really 
that great? Are the 
Boomers ajoke? 

Do Millennials suck? 
Finally, your definitive 
guide to defending 

or attacking 

any age group 


BY STEVEN CHEAN 
ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOE CIARDIELLO 


h yes, that 
time-tested ever- 
green, trundled 
out at holiday 
parties, family gatherings 
and pretty much anytime 
the alcohol starts flowing: 
“My generation is [glow- 
ing superlatives here]. 
Your generation is [insult 
here]." The argument is 
inevitable, considering 
the oceans of time and 
complexities of circum- 
stance separating each 
epoch. After all, Grandpa 
may have checked out 
at Omaha Beach, but he 
certainly never checked 
in on Foursquare. Still, 
there's one truth that 
binds us all: Whether 
you're a member of the 
ЕА Greatest Generation, the 
Silent Generation, the 
Baby Boomers or the 
Gen Xers, Yers or Zers, . 
you must understand the 
defining characteristics 
of each in order to issue 
) an informed verbal beat- 
down. That's where we 
come in. 


= 2 . J 
THE GREATEST GENERATION 


HEROES 


* John F. Kennedy, Julia Child, Jackie 
Robinson, Walt Disney, Margaret Mead, 
Frank Sinatra, John Wayne, Jack Kerouac, 
Charles Lindbergh, Louis Armstrong, 
Betty Friedan, Jonas Salk, Ronald Reagan 


VILLAINS 


* Richard Nixon, Joseph McCarthy, John 
Dillinger, Meyer Lansky, Bugsy Siegel, 
Joseph Bonanno, Leona Helmsley, Charles 
Keating Jr., Ronald Reagan 


WHAT THEY'RE KNOWN FOR 


* Character forged on the breadlines of 
the Great Depression, bravery tested via 
drop-kicking Hitler to the great hereafter, 
ingenuity demonstrated while build- 
ing America into the greatest country on 
earth—in the midst ofthe Cold War, no less. 
Did we mention frugality, personal respon- 
sibility and humility? Well, those too. 


WHAT WE THINK OF THEM 


* "It is, I believe, the greatest generation 
any society has ever produced," writes 
newsman Tom Brokaw in his aptly titled 
best-seller The Greatest Generation. They 
fought "not for fame and recognition but 
because it was the right thing to do." 


WHAT THEY'D RATHER YOU NOT KNOW 


* According to polls conducted as late as 
the 1990s, the Greatest Generation might 


not have been as great as previously 
thought. The majority of them opposed 
interracial marriage, objected to the prolif- 
eration of working mothers and supported 
discrimination based on sexual orientation. 


SHINING EXAMPLE 


* Like many of his peers, Ted Williams 
walked away from baseball, at the height 
of his powers, when his country needed 
him. Was one war enough for Williams? 
Hell, no. He served as a Marines fighter 
pilot in World War II and went back for 
seconds during the Korean War. "He was 
a marine just like the rest of us, and he did 
a great job," said fellow soldier and future 
astronaut John Glenn. “Everybody tries to 
make a hero out of me," added Williams 
with characteristic modesty some 39 mis- 
sions and one hearing impairment later. "T 
was no hero. There were maybe 75 pilots 
in our two squadrons, and 99 percent of 


them did a better job than I did." 


NOT-SO-SHINING EXAMPLE 


* Like absolutely none of his peers, Richard 
Nixon resigned the presidency for his role 
in the Watergate conspiracy—a scandal 
involving wiretapping, robbery, hush money 
and so much more that served as a public- 
image wrecking ball to American politics. 


BOTTOM LINE 


* Somehow brave and bigoted, progres- 
sive and regressive. 


` ШШЩ ! 


Martin Tuner King Jr., Elvis Presley, Hugh Hefner, Jackie 

_ Kennedy, Bob Dylan, Muhammad Ali, Marilyn Monroe, James 
Dean, Malcolm X, Gloria Steinem, Warren Buffett, Andy Warhol, 
Clin lint t Eastwood, Maya Angelou, m Morrison, Cesar Chavez 


VILLAINS 


960 Charles Manson, Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Ray, John 
i, Jerry Sandusky, Bernie Madoff, Jim Jones, John Wayne 
сова Cheney, Ivan Br Pat Robertson, Ted 


R 


WHAT THEY'RE KNOWN FOR 


* Baby Boomers carried the torch for racial and sexual equal- 

ity, but the Silent Generation sparked the match, giving birth 

to the leaders who got everyone marching to the promised 

land in the first place. And though Boomers happily take 

'credit for making rock and roll "classic," it's the Silent Gener- 

ation who plugged in and brought the blues-infused monster 
- to life in the first place. 


WHAT WETHINK OF THEM 


* We don't. After all, they're not called "silent" for nothing. 

Born into the depths of the Depression, raised hard by a 
| world war and made paranoid by anticommunist fever, the 
Silent Generation grew up, according to a 1951 Time maga- 
zine cover story, "withdrawn" and "cautious," seen and not 
heard. (Being sandwiched between the history-book heroics 
of the Greatest Generation and the larger-than-life legacy of 
the Boomers didn't РАР ) 


WHAT THEYD RATHER You нот KNOW 


* Sure, they walked to school...uphill...in the snow...both 
ways. But their tales of hard rearing (which have come to be 
referred to as "old-school") mask upbringings in the most sta- 
ble families in U.S. history. Plus, they were the first generation 


to have unprecedented access to higher education, funded by 
veterans benefits earned during a time of minimal bloodshed. 


- ‘SHINING EXAMPLE 

* Perhaps no singlé American has brought his country closer 
to realizing its democratic dream than Martin Luther King Jr. 
In a few short years, the engine of the civil rights movement 
helped deliver his generation, and all those to follow, from the 
Jim Crow dark ages into the very real promise of justice for all. 


NOT-SO-SHINING EXAMPLE , 


* Never short on uninformed commentary, televangelist Pat 
Robertson has made something of a second career offering 
his opinion on lifestyles other than his own. To wit: “Many of 
those people involved in Adolf Hitler were Satanists. Many 
were homosexuals. The two things seem to go together.” 
Naturally he’s had plenty to say about feminism: “a social- 
ist, antifamily political movement that encourages women to 
leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, 
destroy capitalism and become lesbians.” 


BOTTOM LINE 


» Shattered but sheltered. Seeking a different way and a bet- 
ter quality of life without fully recognizing their role in either. 


BABY BOOMERS 


HEROES 


* Steve Jobs, Oprah Winfrey, Bill 
Clinton, Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, 
Michael Jackson, Bill Gates, George 
Clooney, Bruce Springsteen, Michael 
Jordan, David Letterman, Tom Hanks, 
Magic Johnson, Madonna 


VILLAINS 


• O.J. Simpson, Donald Trump, Karl 
Rove, Sarah Palin, Jay Leno, Michael 


Moore, John Edwards, Rush Limbaugh, 
Mel Gibson, Kathie Lee Gifford, 
Michael Milken 


WHAT THEY'RE KNOWN FOR 


* Powered by 40 percent of the U.S. 
population, Boomers changed the face 
of popular culture like no generation 
before or since—its movies and music, its 
cars and clothes, its power and politics. 
Taking up the cause for peace, love and 


understanding, they made a clean break 
with the past. Better yet, they did it against 
a backdrop of unprecedented chemical 
and sexual experimentation. And half a 
century later, they won't let us forget it. 


WHAT WETHINK OF THEM 


* It depends on whom you ask. Accord- 
ing to a 2009 poll, 27 percent of people 
surveyed said Baby Boomers would 
be remembered for challenging an 
unjust war and changing social values. 
Another 42 percent claimed they would 
be remembered for rampant consumer- 
ism and self-indulgence. The rest simply 
weren't sure or chose "nothing at all." 
(We're fairly certain all of them pon- 
dered the same question: Why won't this 
generation just shut up already?) 


WHAT THEY'D RATHER 
YOU NOT KNOW 


* A generation once defined by its 
unflinching idealism became equally 
noted for its narcissism and epic self- 
indulgence. Before long, the Me 
Generation, as they became known, had 
turned drug use into drug abuse, given 
us disco, tried to get rich on junk bonds 
and handed an unholy national debt 
to their children. And they're still not 
done: By 2030, social welfare will buckle 
under the strain of one in five Americans 
reaching his or her conclusion. 


SHINING EXAMPLE 


*Seeing Steve Jobs's name on a definitive 
list of the 20 most influential Americans 
of all time—alongside the likes of George 
Washington, Albert Einstein and Thomas 
Edison—should come as no surprise. 
Who else so completely changed the way 
we live our lives? Before his death at 56, 
Apple's founder revolutionized not only 
personal computing but also the wireless, 
music and film industries. And we had 
the feeling he was just getting started. 


NOT-SO-SHINING EXAMPLE 


* Gordon Gekko, the character who 
claims “greed is good” in the 1980s 
capitalism-on-steroids classic Wall Street, 
is, the filmmakers admitted, partly 
based on Michael Milken. At his peak, 
Milken earned between $200 million 
and $550 million a year by bankrolling 
mergers and acquisitions with junk bonds. 
Since doing time for securities fraud, 
ponying up $600 million in fines and 
being diagnosed with prostate cancer, he 
has turned his moneymaking mind to the 
treatment of cancer and other diseases. If 
he funds a cure, we'll call it even. 


BOTTOM LINE 


* Apparently there is an / in team. 


GENERATION X ` 


) Gorn 1965-1979 \ 


HEROES 
* Larry Page, Sergey Brin, Jay Z, Kurt 
Cobain, Steve Chen, Chad Hurley, 
Jawed Karim, Tina Fey, Judd Apatow, 
J.K. Rowling, Dave Eggers, Tiger Woods 


VILLAINS 


* Kanye West, Lance Armstrong, Kobe 
Bryant, John Mayer, Gwyneth Paltrow, 
Alex Rodriguez, Charlie Sheen, Jesse 
James, Tiger Woods 


WHAT THEY'RE KNOWN FOR 


* Slacking. And changing the 
world. The children of MTV and 
Reaganomics came out of the gate the 
radiant products of divorce, a broken 
political process, an AIDS epidemic, 
yuppie materialism and diminished 
prospects amid a cavalcade of financial 
meltdowns. Written off as detached and 
disenfranchised, they've shown serious 
entrepreneurial skills, transforming 
our lives with Google, YouTube, 
Amazon and more. 


"WHAT WE THINK OF THEM 


* Boy, that ambiguous X sure has 
come in handy. A generation devoted 
to fighting corruption, embracing 
diversity and searching for personal 
freedom has desperately sought a 
sense of security. The same group 
that excelled at education and volun- 
teerism can't seem to shake its slacker 


reputation. The young adults who put 
off having families of their own are hit- 
ting middle age only to confront the 
same nagging question: "How am I 
going to pay the rent?" 
WHAT THEY'D RATHER 
YOU NOT KNOW 
* While they'd have you believe they 
hold the patent on existential angst 
(grunge, anyone?), Gen Xers are 
actually "active, balanced and happy," 
according to a 2011 study. Pessimis- 
tic about marriage? Bah. A higher 
percentage of them stay together 
compared with Boomers, and a major- 
ity claim to enjoy the institution. 
They're social, hardworking, devoted 
parents—a generation that has grown 
into “technologically savvy, adventur- 
ous pragmatists.” 
SHINING EXAMPLE 
* If the man once known as Shawn 
Carter had simply gone from rags to 
riches, he'd be like many who came 
before him. But in becoming Jay Z, a 
symbol of human potential realized, 
he's like no one else. In a mere 20 
years, the kid from Brooklyn's Marcy 
Projects has gone from dopeman to 
superman—a hip-hop hall of famer 
turned visionary entrepreneur with a 
net worth of approximately $500 mil- 
lion. Businessman, family man, 
Beyoncé's man, Jigga Man snapped 
the slacker stereotype without losing 
an ounce of integrity. 


NOT-SO-SHINING EXAMPLE , 


+ On August 24, 2012 the United 
States Anti-Doping Agency concluded 
that champion cyclist Lance Armstrong 
had engaged in “the most sophisticated, 
professionalized and successful doping 
program that sport has ever seen.” In 
that moment the poster child for tri- 
umph over adversity, who inspired a 
generation to live strong, was 
revealed to be a one-man 
force of corruption— 

and a real a-hole. 


^ BOTTOM LINE 
* The apathy and 


cynicism you've heard 
about—never mind. 


* 


0 


| Understandably, they take their 


GENERATION Y 


(A.K.A. THE MILLENNIALS) 


HEROES 
» Mark Zuckerberg, Beyoncé, David 
Karp, Lady Gaga, Lena Dunham, Adele, 
Kevin Systrom, Serena Williams, Jennifer 
Lawrence, Frank Ocean, Sandra Fluke 


VILLAINS 


* Kim Kardashian, LeBron James, 
Lindsay Lohan, Michael Vick, Casey 


| Anthony, Chris Brown, Paris Hilton, 


Anne Hathaway, Ryan Braun, Aaron 
Hernandez, Justin Bieber 


WHAT THEY'RE KNOWN FOR 

* They're digital natives: Millennials who 
tried to quit social media showed the same 
symptoms as drug addicts in withdrawal. 
They're children of the Great Reces- 
sion, which has left them overeducated, 
underemployed perpetual tenants of 
their helicopter parents. Still, the gener- 
ation most responsible for electing Barack 
Obama is nothing if not open-minded 
and optimistic about the future. 


WHAT WE THINK OF THEM 


* Our opinion changes about as often 
as their Facebook status. A knowing, 
media-savvy generation, they grew up 
fast, sexting before it was even a word. 
The fact that fewer of them drive, uncer- 
tain as to whether they need or even 
want a car, simultaneously confuses 
and impresses their elders. Coddled 
from the crib, they lack the gumption 
to leave the nest and achieve. Yet, para- 
doxically, they're entrepreneurial and 
have excelled outside the confines of the 
cubicle—though maybe not as much as 
their profiles would have us believe. 


WHAT THEY'D RATHER YOU NOT KNOW 


* They've earned the nickname the 
Me Me Me Generation for a reason: 

They're three times more likely than 
Boomers to have narcissistic personality 
disorder. Materialism and a lofty sense of 
entitlement—minus the means to realize 


GENERATION 


HEROES 


* Suri Cruise, the Jolie-Pitt brood 


VILLAINS 
* Honey Boo Boo, North West 


WHAT WE THINK OF THEM 


* If Generation Y is optimistic, 
its successors are realistic. Can 
you blame them? They've known 
nothing but a post-9/11 world of 
terrorism, crippling recession, cli- 
mate change and school violence. 


entertainment dark and dystopian, 
with characters rising above grim 
circumstances to create a better way 
of life for all. Watching their par- 
ents grapple with unemployment 
and their Gen-Y elders move back 
home will make them financially 
conservative and savvy. Hypercon- 
nected from conception, they're set 
to speed through childhood like a 
runaway train, likely emerging the 
most diverse, inquisitive, globally 
aware generation in history. 


BOTTOM LINE 
* The jury's still out. 


their caviar dreams—have contributed 
to breathtaking delusions of grandeur. 
Moreover, Generation Y is arguably the 
most medicated on record, their hazy 
state and sedentary social-media lifestyle 
contributing to a rise in obesity and its 
BFF, diabetes. 


SHINING EXAMPLE 


* "I think that I may be the voice of my 
generation...or at least a voice...of a gen- 
eration." So sort-of declares Hannah 
Horvath, a girl among Girls, HBO's break- 
through dramedy. Hannah's assertion may 
have more legitimacy than she seems to 
believe. Creator Lena Dunham does what 
television has never done before, honestly, 
unsparingly capturing the lives of a gener- 
ation's young women, albeit a narrow slice 
of white, privileged, self-obsessed young 
women. Love her or hate her (you'd be 
in good company either way), Dunham 
is a quadruple-threat writer-producer- 
director-star with a singular vision. 


NOT-SO-SHINING EXAMPLE 


* In the annals of teen idoldom, Justin 
Bieber is unique in that he's totally a prod- 
uct of social media. With his 45 million 
Twitter followers, his zany antics—urinating 
in public, spitting in faces, refusing to wear 
irts, hoping Anne Frank would've been 
a "Belieber"—are inescapable, threaten- 
ing to turn him into a pop-culture pariah 
in record-breaking time. 


BOTTOM LINE 


* The most connected generation is still 
trying to make a connection. 


= 
25 
— 
— 


“For the kind of stuff you want, youll have to ask the elf in the alley in back of the department store!” 


95 


TE. 


* 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JOSH 


s voluptuous as Venus and as brainy as Madame 

Curie, 26-year-old Kennedy Summers has our 
temperature rising. With 12 years of model- 

ing under her garter belt, Kennedy has a 
bachelor's degree in anthropology and is currently in 
‘medical school while simultaneously finishing her mas- 
ter's in health administration. "I'm so busy, my dog is 
lucky if he gets a one-hour walk," she says, laughing. Her 
ambition is to become a plastic surgeon. "It's a job where 
people come to me and leave happy, not sad," she says. 
Not that she's all work and no play. The Berlin-born, 
Virginia-raised bombshell lists classic rock, Broadway 


RYAN 


theater, the Pittsburgh Steelers and sex as a sampling of 
her other passions. "Oh, I adore sex," she coos. As for 
modeling, Kennedy is just about done with that part of 
her career. "I wanted my grand finale in the profession 
to be as a PLAYBOY Playmate,” she says. “Playmates are so 
iconic, they'll never go out of style. I thought it would 
be the coolest job I could go out with.” She sent us some 
photos, and soon she was in our studio. In all her years 
in front of the camera, Kennedy had never posed nude 
before. “Nudity is no big deal for me, though,” she says, 
“because I have a very Euro mentality. I love being Miss 
December. Merry Christmas, world, here’s me, naked!” 


Ө Misskennedysummers O emisskennedys С) emisskennedys 


WE'VE GOT THE 
FEVER FOR MISS 
DECEMBER. LUCKILY, 
THIS GORGEOUS 
MEDICAL STUDENT 
AND INTERNATIONAL 
MODEL HAS THE CURE 


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BIRTH DATE „03/03/31 BIRTHPLACE: — Berlin, Geemany __ 


AMBITIONS ¿0 Mye my оли plastic Surgeey Anie — — 
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TURN-ONS: ОХ, £ un -+Q i | 


who dont tare Anemselves too VLNY. ___ 


TURNOFFS: | [ v u vd Weed min 


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DREAM HOLIDAY WISH: \ mainly Qee Up in tre Sb, Sb d love 
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PLAYBOY”S PARTY JOKES 


The one thing women don't want to find 
in their stockings on Christmas morning is 
their husband. 


A man out Christmas shopping spotted a 
guy with a tree slung over the hood of his 
car. “Getting ready for Christmas?” the first 
man asked. 

“No,” the second replied, “teaching the wife 
how to drive.” 


How are women’s breasts like the train sets 
kids get for Christmas? 

They were originally made for children, but 
hers want to play with them. 


the fat! 


The three wise men sound generous, but 
you have to remember their gifts were joint 
Christmas-birthday presents. 


A man arrived home from work and was 
greeted at the door by his wife. “Did you get 
your Christmas bonus?” she asked. 

“Honey,” he said, “put on your coat.” 

“So that’s a yes and we're going out to 
celebrate?” she asked. 

“No,” he said, “I’m turning off the heat.” 


A young woman asked her mother, “Mom, 
how many kinds of penises are there?” 

The mother calmly answered, “Well, a 
man goes through three phases: In his 20s 
his penis is like an oak—mighty and hard. In 
his 30s and 40s, it is like a birch—flexible but 
reliable. After his 50s, it is like a Christmas 
tree—dried up, and the balls are just there 
for decoration.” 


What do the female reindeer do on Christmas 
Eve when Santa Claus is busy driving his sled 
with the males? 

Go into town and blow a couple of bucks. 


After her husband died, a wife had his 
remains cremated. She returned home with 
the ashes, dumped them on the dining room 
table and then started talking to them. “You 
know that fur coat you promised me? I bought 
it with the insurance money. You know the 
new car you promised me? I bought that with 
the insurance money too.” Then she whis- 
pered, “You know that blow job I promised 
you? Well, here it comes.” 


Dia you get anything under the tree?” a 
woman asked her single sister. 

“Nope,” the sister replied. “It was in the 
backseat of the car, as usual.” 


Why is Christmas just like a day at the office? 
You do all the work and the fat guy with the 
suit gets all the credit. 


Р, лувоу cLassic: A woman said to her girlfriend, 
“My ex-husband wants to marry me again.” 
The friend said, “How flattering.” 
The woman replied, “Not really. I think he’s 
after the money I married him for.” 


Why an angel sits atop the Christmas tree: 

Santa was having a terrible day. Mrs. Claus 
was furious with him, the reindeer had been 
eaten by polar bears, and the elves had gone 
on strike. Just then a cheerful angel came 
in with a Christmas tree and asked, “Where 
should I put this?” 


A truck full of Viagra has been stolen. Police 
are asking the public to be on the lookout for 
a group of hardened criminals. 


A man shopping at Victoria’s Secret brought 
a luxurious pair of silk pajamas to the check- 
out counter. “My,” the clerk said, “your wife is 
going to love these.” 

“Oh right,” the man said. “In that case I'll 
take two.” 


During a job interview the potential employer 
asked, "What would you consider to be your 
greatest weakness?" 

“Honesty,” the interviewee answered. 

“Honesty? I don't think honesty is a weak- 
ness," the interviewer remarked. 

The applicant answered, “I don't care what 
you think!" 


Send your jokes to Playboy Party Jokes, 9346 
Civic Center Drive, Beverly Hills, California 
90210, or by e-mail to jokes (Qplayboy.com. 
PLAYBOY will pay $100 to the contributors whose 
submissions are selected. 


. Still believe I’m not real?" 


107 


SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE 


IT IS NOW TIME TO DETERMINE 
THE FATE OF THE WORLD 
> consecutive tours of duty, was little more 
than an assemblage of hinged prosthe- 
ses wired to an embittered brain, and one hot 
desert night he lost what cool his contraption 
contained and slugged a bitchy officer half his 
age with his spring-loaded steel fist, leaving 
the tight-assed little Napoleon with his teeth 
lodged in the back of his throat and in need of 
a prosthetic jaw of his own. The old veteran was 
a military hero many times over, having fought 
an endless series of wars for the owners of the 
world, but for this minor indiscretion they un- 
ceremoniously threw him in the lockup and, 
when they grew tired of his loud obscenities 
and violent cage rattling, they discharged him 
dishonorably, sending him out into the world 
with nothing but the pack on his back. He de- 
served more than that. Was there a way to get 
it? Sure there was, but he'd need a lawyer, and 
they were the species of diseased subhumanity 
he loathed above all others. 


He was describing all this one night to a 
disgruntled ex-airman in a bar popular with 


Once there was an aging veteran of 
foreign wars whose body, after too many 


professional killers like themselves, on or off 
duty, in or out of the ranks, when he spied 
across the room, sitting alone, a stunningly gor- 
geous creature with a haunting enigmatic smile, 
and he fell instantly in love with her, saying as 
much, though more profanely, to his drinking 
companion. Yeah, you and everybody else, the 
guy replied, but she's too hot to handle. The 
airman had just been telling him how he'd been 
used in a failed advanced-weapons experiment 
to create flying soldiers by lining their lower 
bowels with the sort of ceramics used in space 
launches and fitting their rebuilt guts with 
miniature turbo jets, too small to keep aircraft 
aloft but enough to send a single body with a 
full pack rocketing up, which was fun if you 
didn't mind hard landings. I shit out my side 
like Jesus, he said, pointing. But now the guy 
wanted to know, after what the old veteran had 
told him about all the essentials he'd lost, what 
he could do about it even if she were available. 
They fitted me out with an automated electro- 
magnetic dick, he explained, and what happens 
is different from orgasms, as best I can remem- 
ber them, but I still get a charge out of them, 
and the girls, too, get a buzz that has them com- 
ing back for more. I even had access to a sperm 
bank back at the base if I wanted to fire real bul- 
lets, but I knew the brainless jerkoffs who had 
contributed to it, and I didn't want to pollute 
the earth with more of them. But I can handle 
anything with a slot in its fork, so what's the 
problem with that beautiful thing over there? 
Watch, the guy said. There comes the Ripper. 
There was a brouhaha developing in a 
cleared space near the bar where a screaming 
woman was suddenly bent over, skirts up and 
knife at her throat, to be taken fiercely from be- 
hind by a snarling brute with filed steel teeth. 
"That evil dude's genes got fucked up when he 
was nuked in a desert demo for a bunch of fossil 
fuel barons, the airman said. They gave him 
lifetime immunity in compensation, so he does 
what he wants. Always a bloody mess to clean 
up in here when he's done. The beautiful wom- 
an with the mesmerizing smile walked over to 
the man and peeled her face away. Everyone 
else looked away and the Ripper hit the floor 
like a petrified tree. Then she put her face on 
again and sat down, smiling benignly as before. 
Holy shit, said the old (continued on page 168) 


FICTION BY ROBERT COOVER 


ILLUSTRATION BY KILIAN ENG 


A 


AN 


Our roundup of the most hedonistic 
headlines and titillating tidbits 


Music Videos: Unleashed and Unrated 


> Miley Cyrus twerked her way into adulthood and bared it all in “Wrecking 
Ball,” while Robin Thicke's “Blurred Lines" crossed lines with a bevy of 
beautiful women in the buff. Consider our interest in music videos aroused. 


We'll Hand It i 


to You Propositioned 


> The ad of the > THREE OFFBEAT CELEBRITY OFFERS 
year award goes Y " 
to this Chilean 
PSA, which makes 
astrong case for 
hand sanitizer. 


Who’s Your Daddy? 


> Step aside, Maury Povich. Mobile 
paternity testing is here. Now New Yorkers 
can hail a Winnebago, offer DNA samples 
and find out in three to five business days 
if their lives are ruined 


Traffic Cop a Feel 


D In an effort to get Russian drivers to slow 
down, women took off their tops and held 
up speed-limit signs. Reports on how many 
people swerved into trees still pending. 


111 


THE BIGGEST SETBACKS 
AND SUCCESSES FROM 
‚AROUND THE WORLD 


Putin Down Homosexuals 
Russian president Vladimir Putin signed a bill 
that imposes fines on people who provide 
LGBT information to minors. In protest, a 
Facebook group photoshopped pics of Putin 
in drag and suggested folks mail him dildos. 


3 


No Glove, No Love. 
Mexican company Rubberit sells condoms on. 
line and uses the profits to fund sex education. 


Mouth Off. 
Virginia GOP candidate Ken Cuccinelli cam: 
paigned to reinstate an unconstitutional law 
that makes ¡ta felony to have oral or anal sex 


4 
a 

Schooled, Mate 

When a pastor asked Australian prime minister 
Kevin Rudd why he supports gay marriage when 
the Bible says its unnatural, Rudd responded, 
“Well, mate, if | was going to have that view, 
Bible also says slavery is a natural condition. 


112 


Naked in NYC 


indy Golub knows the 
ig a crowd: Paint 
(and men) in 


Artis! 
secret to draw 
on naked won 


Supermodels Cindy Crawford, Helena Christensen and Christy 
ton showed a bit of skin and proved age is just a number. 


n Klein 


Former New York congress: 
man and mayoral candidate 
Anthony Weiner made headlines 
again when he admitted to send. 
ing a woman dick pics under the 
pseudonym Carlos Danger. The 
Outcome? The man and the penis 
that launched a thousand jokes 
lost the mayoral race. The silver 
lining? A Florida man teamed up 
with an Illinois hot dog company 
to sell Carlos Danger Weiners. 


1 


Times Square. We appreciate his 


entire body of work. 


Fit to Print Hot Commodities 


4 


Type 
Dirty 
to Me 


Graphic 
designer 
Alex Merto 

titillates with 


his Effing 
Typeface. 


THE LOWDOWN ON THE LATEST BREAKTHROUGHS IN VIBRATOR TECHNOLOGY 


L 


StronicZwei The Limo! Teus and Hera. Vibease 


Apparently NA 
greate! 
great si 
very phall 


113 


NYMPHOMANIA! 


4 dn JUNSVIN 


Let's Get Kink 
> Researchers four 


From the big screen to the flatscreen to whatever device 
Will hot Might Disagree was handy, it was a banner year for our favorite pastime 


> neur 
BY STEPHEN REBELLO 
This Little Piggy | | verall, 2013 was a standout year for "— m 


> connoisseurs of screen sensuality. — 987 
Multiplexes got steamy when a bohemian E 
Kristen Stewart went topless in On the Road, i 
platinum-grilled drug dealer James Franco 

seduced coeds in Spring Breakers and Jennifer Aniston 

pole-danced in her skivvies in We’re the Millers. An 

all-grown-up Lindsay Lohan drifted naked and numb 

through The Canyons, while Daniel Radcliffe in Kill эк 

Your Darlings took to guy-on-guy sex like Harry Potter * "Y 

took to Quidditch. Meanwhile, cable channels served * x 

on a silver platter the nakedness of Nicole Kidman and Ne 

Clive Owen in Hemingway & Gellhorn, not to mention 

that of Matt Damon in the Liberace bio movie Behind 

the Candelabra. Jon Hamm's devilish ad man continued 

to plow his way through the female cast of Mad Men, «s 

and Don Cheadle's management consultant on House 

of Lies woke up with a knockout after a night of office 

sex. The younger casts of breakout sensations such 


as Girls and Orange Is the New Black gave their more- 
established acting colleagues mighty competition in 
the screen-sex Olympics. Let's raise a year-end toast 
in celebration of who did what to whom, sexually 
speaking, in the movies and on TV. 


Mad Men 


> With hot wife Jessica 
Paré at home itching to. 
engage in French maid 
games, no wonder the randy, 
swaggering ad executive 
played by Jon Hamm ranks 
high among TV's most 
envied characters. 


Spring Breakers 

» Would-be college bad girls Vanessa Hudgens and Ashley 
Benson get up to their eyeballs in crime, meth and temptation 
in drug-and-arms-dealing James Franco's hot tub. To quote 
Franco's character, “Look at my shit.” 


House of Lies 

> Taking a time-out from backstabbing 

and double-dealing, this cable series’ nasty 
management consultants are always down for some 
good old-fashioned sheet scorching, as seductively 


demonstrated in a girl-on-girl interlude between 
Tiffany Tynes and Erika Jordan. — 
. 4 
É 
d 
! е v ~ A 
А 
7 
€ 
Nurse Jackie 


As the cable show's 
incompetent medical resident 
who merrily screwed her way 
to the top, Betty Gilpin plays 

a malpractice suit waiting 

to happen. But her bedside 
manner would have us up and 
at'em in no time flat. 


Flight 
> Boozy burned-out airplane pilot Denzel Washington has no complaints 
about being grounded, as long as he can share a motel-bed romp and a 
righteous buzz with sexy, up-for-anything flight attendant Nadine Velazquez. 


The Wolf of Wall Street The 


In director Martin Scorsese’s sin- and excess-loaded epic Canyons 
based on the rise and fall of a real-life Wall Street hotshot, > Playing a denizen 
Katarina Cas reduces powerful, über-rich stockbroker and of contemporary 
scammer Leonardo DiCaprio to a worshipful subject. Hollywood, Lindsay 
Lohan gives a 
Cinematic tour of 

her every hill and 
canyon, along with 

a close-up of the toll 
her offscreen esca- 
pades have taken. 


Hemingway & Gellhorn 


> It’s not just the sun that also rises in 


HBO's torrid and passionate bio starring Clive Ep 4 


Owen as the red-blooded novelist and Nicole 
Kidman as his fearless, sexually ferocious war- P 
correspondent partner in lust. p 


| Girls 


63 шш A 


cringe-making 
sex, writer-actress n 
Lena Dunham's cable. 
smash outdoes itself 
when Skylar Astin y 
quits orally pleasur- 
ing Zosia Mamet once 
the ZI-year-old con- 
fesses her virginity. 
" Y Е 
Behind the 
Candelabra ] 
» Playing the 
well-muscled ^ _ 
prized possession of 
Michael Douglas's True Blood 
flamboyant Á Р * — > Studly werewolf Joe 
Liberace, Matt " Th ANS Manganiello shows in a most 
Damon doesn’t | T intimate way his deep apprecia- 


tion for the time and attention 


seem to mind letting — f 

the bejeweled piano ч Р his superfit, superhot personal 
dervish demonstrate r trainer and fellow werewolf Kelly 
his legendary 2 1 Overton has devoted to his long, 


fingering technique. sweaty workout sessions. 


We're 
the Millers 
» Jennifer Aniston 
titillates highly 
appreciative 

male viewers and 
inspires 44-year- 
old pole-dancing 
strippers across 
the planet by 
working those 
glistening abs, buff 
arms and various 
other seductive 
assets during a 
Flashdance-esque 
bump and grind. 


CINEMA 


SX » 


K 


Blue Is the 


Warmest Color 


> Léa Seydoux and Adèle 
Exarchopoulos’s 10-minute 
lovemaking scene stunned 
critics and audiences. 


ў |. 
{ 
„ 
x 
Orange Is 
the New 
Black 
In the year's 13 most- 
addictive episodes of 
TV, the real-life-based * + 
1 women-behind-bars j 
= м 5 dramedy serves up 
such steamy moments " — 
Ч аза college grad 
Thanks for Sharin Ned d'or le 
% We're pretty sure when triathlete Gwyneth (Taylor Schilling) La 
Paltrow busts out those stripper moves on recover- lathering up with ^ € 
ing sex addict Mark Ruffalo she isn't following one her drug-running ex e è 
of the 12 steps mandated by his recovery program. (Laura Prepon). E ЖА 


On the Road 


In the big-screen 
version of Beat icon 


Don Jon Jack Kerouac’ sexually & 
> Scarlett freewheeling dassic, 
Johansson’s stacked, Kristen Stewart drives a 
savvy Jersey girl stake through the heart 
ЕИ of her Twilight image 
re » a perfect by cutting loose and 
УА showing of the twins to 

2 s Dean Moriarty (played 
VR RIS dde by Garret Hedlund, 
e pictured) and Sal 
boy and gym addict Paradise (Sam Riley). £ 
Joseph Gordon- 
Levitt kicks her to 
the curb to indulge 
his true addiction: 
internet porn. Our 
diagnosis? It’s gotta 


be the roids. 


118 


“Find another way to beat the cold, 
Walsh—or turn in your bell!” 


“He said the mistletoe was imported from France, so 


there was a slight difference in the tradition.” 


! — © : TEN 6 2 
“My gracious, Mr. Simpson thought "Where did we go wrong, Mother? 
it was a pillow!" Where did we go wrong?" 


yor 77 ENS 


"And a bah, humbug to you too, you old fart!" "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night...!" 


PLAYBOY”"S 


2013 


The best presents are ones that are an expression of your personality. We ve 
curated a list of gifts that will enhance the life of every kind of man, from the 
Bon Vivant who appreciates the great indoors, to the Sportsman who likes to 

lake it outside, to the Artist who lives to create 


- New Jack City - 


e Before it could be found 
behind every bar, Jack 
Daniel's was so rare Fr: 
Sinatra kept a pri 
on hand. Th 
of smooth, smoky, high- 
proof whiskey is designed 
to be sipped the way the 
Chairman liked it: three 
cubes of ice, two fingers of 
whiskey, a splash of water. 


crocodile-embossed 
leather backgammon 
vel set from 

sh leather- 
goods company 
Smythson will keep 
you entertained no 
matter where you go. 


- Go for the Gold - 


Some of the world's top mixologists practice their craft 
in Tokyo. Bring a little of their flair to your mixology act 
with this golden Japanese cocktail shaker. 


- Sound Off- 


e In a world with countless “DJ-style” headphones, 
V-Moda models are the real deal: The difference is in the 
road-ready metal parts and amazing sound quality. 


Crossfade LF 


< Usagi cobbler st 


- Cruise Control - 


© Any respectable arsenal of skateboards 
should include a longboard for cruising and 
carving in comfort and style. The graphic 


paint-stripe design looks so cool you won't 
want to cover it up with stickers. 
> 


CYN 


- Go Blue - 


e If there's such a thing as an heirloom football, 
this is it. Handmade in the good old U.S. of A. and 
backed up by a lifetime warranty, this is a pigskin 


you'll be proud to pass down to your son. 


- Gearhead - 


© Originally designed for the U.S. Marines, this 
folding bike packs extreme mobility and durability, 
plus 24 speeds, into a compact 29-pound package. 

And yes, it can fit under a (big) Christmas tree. 


- Tool Time - 


© The Leatherman 

OHT is the first- 

ever multitool whose 
wrenches, blades and 
drivers can be opened 
with one hand. Features 
such as an oxygen- 
bottle wrench and a 
strap cutter give it 
EMT-grade cred. 


RAW EDITION 


D 
oe 2 SS SS EERE 
Pe a K et a al 
MG E چ چ چ‎ SS ane 
7. 
- I Thee Shred - 
© Vintage Starcasters are treasured by 
gu sts in bands from Arctic Monkeys to 


Radiohead. Fender has reissued the model so 
budding indie axmen can join their ranks. 


- Specs Appeal - 


© Handmade in Portland, Oregon from aircraft-grade 
birch and finished with East Indian rosewood, these 
sunglasses stand apart from the plastic-frame pack. 


* Shwood Can e ja sunglasses 


- Raw Power - 


* Legendary German 
camera company Leic 
teamed up with apparel 
company ar to produce 
a tough and tough-looking 
digital camera built for 
street photography. With its 
rugged good looks and killer 
optics, you may never take 
another smartphone picture. 


2 ca D-Lux 6t Sta 


- Mr. Hid 

Yes; there is such a thing 
asa manly apron, and this 
handnmade leather version 
will keep you clean and 
protected, whether you’re 
working in the shop or 
manning the grill. 


N NN MID 
N INN) 
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Musay >» 
Ly Moved EE 


126 


sort of way. He is an astute student of 
human nature and, as president of Rock- 
star Games, a tough negotiator when 
contracts come up for renewal with par- 
ent company Take-Two Interactive. 

Partly because of his reputation as a 
loner and recluse, everyone from jour- 
nalists who can't get interviews to a 
handful of disgruntled former employ- 
ees has labeled Houser crazy. He is not. 
He can be intensely private, even avoid- 
ing a GTA voice actor when he comes in 
to record his voice-over work. Houser is 
a workaholic and he's stubborn, clearly 
used to getting his way when he knows 
he's right, but he's definitely not crazy. 
In fact, there's something about Sam 
Houser that is close to genius. If Nin- 
tendo's Shigeru Miyamoto is the Steven 
Spielberg of video games, Houser is the 
Martin Scorsese. 

Of course, there is more to Houser 
than that, just as there is more to 
Grand Theft Auto than stealing cars. 
Much more, in fact. Behind the high- 
speed chases, shoot-outs and plot 
twists, Rockstar's games are a virtual 
stylebook curated by Houser and his 
brother, Dan, Rockstar's head writer 
and vice president of creative. Sly ref- 
erences to the coolest music, art and 
films pop up everywhere, from radio 
stations loaded with Rick Ross and 
Aphex Twin to art pieces that appear 
in the background, pulled directly 


from New York City galleries. These 
references are decoded by fans the way 
a Basquiat mention by Jay Z is googled 
by hip-hop kids or a dusty rock-and- 
roll song is resurrected after appearing 
in a Quentin Tarantino movie. 

All this percolates through a world 
of brutal violence and black humor 
set in the grittiest of crime films and 
mashed up into a fictional New York or 
Los Angeles urban environment. Hol- 
lywood producers would die to make 


a film of the series. Houser and Rock- 
star have always said no. Houser says 
no to a lot of things: to being photo- 
graphed, to participating in the annual 
Electronic Entertainment Expo game 
convention that takes place every sum- 
mer in Los Angeles ("It's like a big, sort 
of willy-waving exercise") and to inter- 
views. "More so than ever before, in a 
world where people are just out to be 
famous for being famous and want to 
be interviewed for being interviewed, 
it seems like a funny practice," he says, 
shaking his head. 

We are sitting in the Rockstar office's 
media room, which is outfitted with a 
giant flatscreen TV and killer sound 
system. The room sits on the other 
side of a lobby complete with an ultra- 
rare Warrior arcade game and a vintage 
Defender cabinet. It's a few weeks before 
the release of Grand Theft Auto V, and 
the stakes—and the stress—have never 
been higher. (continued on page 178) 


“If by wassailing you mean looking to get laid, then yes, Im wassailing.” 


127 


N 


CHANGERS 


DOM 


NE 
FA 
SIND 


Xbox One brings 
graphic muscle, 
motion sensors, 
streaming video and 


all your friends to the 


living room 


STATS 
Hard drive: 500 GB 
Processor: 1.75 GHz 
Price: $499 


HIGHER DEFINITION 


The Xbox One includes a 
built-in Blu-ray player and 
a game DVR to record, edit 
and post your footage. 


CHARGED UP 


A new chipset allows Xbox 
One controllers to charge | 
in three fours and last for 

30 hours of gameplay. 


COMPLETE CONTROL 


Microsoft spent 
$100 million to redesign the 
controller, which includes 


a rumble pads in the triggers. 


'ou've watched a movie on Netflix, updated 
your fantasy-football team and jumped 
into a quick game of Call of Duty after 
noticing a friend online. Then a Skype 
call comes in. That's the seamless life of the Xbox 
One. Microsoft designed the system to serve as a 
center of entertainment and gave it enough muscle 
to handle the job, from the 500-gigabyte hard 
drive to the 1.75-gigahertz processor. You control 
the system through motion and voice commands. 
It streams video from services including Netflix 
and HBO GO, handles Skype calls via a connected 
camera and can even serve up live TV. Of course 
the Xbox One plays a killer selection of games, and 
a built-in DVR records your finest achievements for 
pm posting online. It's entertainment, multitasked. 


MY TEAM ROSTER 
ыс 
— — 


[HT 


an 


> 
اا‎ OUT 
AND PLAY 


PLAYSTATION 4 plugs directly into 

your social life and brings your friends 

along to play, from the football field to | 
the other side of the galaxy N 


generate 1.84 
graphics-proce 


|e | INTHE CLOUDS 
Play games in the cloud or 
download them directly to 
the hard drive. 


TOUCH HERE 
The new controller uses a 
м touch pad for added game 
control and a share button 
to upload videos. 
STATS 
Hard drive: 500 GB 
Processor: 2.75 GHz 
Price: $400 


he Chicago Bears just torched the 

Minnesota Vikings' defense for 400 yards 

in a blowout victory thanks to your deft 

play-calling. Press the share button on the 
PS4 controller and upload a video of the game's 
best play directly to your Facebook page. The PS4 
is designed with your social-media life in mind, 
enabling you to post to your Twitter feed or hop 
into a friend's game to play or spectate. A built- 
in touch pad on the redesigned controller lets 
gamers thumb through menus or scroll through 
power-ups in games such as Killzone: Shadow Fall. 
Activate remote play and the PS4 will stream games 
wirelessly to the Vita, Sony's handheld game system. 
A huge game catalog, streaming video and your 
entire social life, all from the comfort of your couch. 


V TITANFALL 
Futuristic battle game 
Titanfall (Xbox One) comes 
with giant robot-size 
credentials, having been 
designed by the 
co-creator of the Call 


of Duty series. Stuck 
in the middle of a 
conflict between a 
megacorporation and 
1 : : a militia group, you'll 
battle on foot or inside 
the futur fg ng mechanical titans. The 
game is entirely multi- 


player and totally intense. 


A ASSASSIN'S CREED 
Gaming's deadliest killer 
gains new life on the high 
seas in Assassins Creed IV: 
Black Flag (PS4, Xbox 
One). Lead pirate captain 
Edward Kenway on looting 
expeditions in shipwrecks 
and ancient ruins and 
command your ship's crew 
to run a sword through any 
scalawag who crosses you. 


V CALL OF DUTY 
America lies in ruins and is 
being defended by a guerrilla 
group in Call of Duty: Ghosts 
(PS4, Xbox One), with a story 
by Stephen Gaghan, the 
Academy Award-winning 
writer of Traffic. Multiplayer 
is where the action is, and all- 
new game modes, tightened 
controls and stellar graphics 
make it the best ever. 


< BATTLEFIELD 4 

War is hell on graphics 
processors, but the might 

of these new systems lets 
Battlefield 4 (PS4, Xbox One) 
players demolish buildings, 
pilot jets and lead gunboats. 


V NEED FOR SPEED 
Few things feel better than 
flooring a car. Need for 
Speed: Rivals (PS4, Xbox 
One) lets you do it with 
police on your trail. 


> DEAD 
RISING 3 
Hordes of 
zombies 
swarm in Dead 
Rising 3 thanks 
to the Xbox 
Ones power. 


< WOLFENSTEIN 

Video game legend 

John Carmack revamps 

his classic game in 
Wolfenstein: The New 

Order (PS4, Xbox One), 
following a World 

War II soldier who takes 

on the Nazis’ most 

futuristic weapons. 191 


he cocaine and heroin 

came into the city by 

truck, roughly 1,500 to 

2,000 kilos of it every 

month. The trucks 

cruised in on Interstate 80 through Iowa, 

I-94 through Wisconsin, 1-57 through 

Missouri and 1-65 through Indiana. Once 

in Cook County, the drugs were distributed 

to various stash houses: a warehouse on 
South Sayre just off the Stevenson Expressway, a condo 
in the southwestern suburb of Justice. 

Margarito and Pedro Flores, 20-something Mexican 
American twins from Chicago, would then distribute 
the drugs to a dozen or so couriers. The couriers, 
in turn, would sell the drugs to dealers, in batches 


of between 20 and 100 kilos, in exchange for tens of 


thousands of dollars. The drugs trickled down to the 
streets, to neighborhoods like Pilsen and Little Village, 
where local gangs took control of the sales. Each gang 


PHOTOGRAPH BY JUSTIN PAGE 


was divided into sections—usually 

designated by the intersection on 

which it worked—and followed its 

own code of conduct. The cocaine 

and heroin were then sold off, under 
the protection of an armed gang member stationed at 
the corner to ward off cops and rival gangs. 


The house in Hinsdale was nothing special. A one- 
story home with a garage and green lawn, it stood out 
only because it paled in comparison with the bigger 
homes surrounding it in the affluent western suburb. 
Inside, the Flores brothers counted their cash. The 
bills were ones, fives, 10s, sometimes 100s. They put it 
through money-counting machines. Sometimes they 
tallied up as much as $4 million. 

There were other places: a sprawling one-story home 
in Palos Hills, an apartment in Chicago's West Town 
neighborhood, another in Lakeview. 


TIN I inn 
| MI р 
SIMP 


In warehouses and the homes that 
had garages, the Flores brothers and 
their crew would dismantle vehicles and 
install secret compartments—in the roof 
of a Kenworth semi-tractor or in the side 
panels of a Nissan Murano, for example. 
The money was packaged and then 
shuttled off out West. One vehicle alone 
could carry several million dollars in illicit 
drug proceeds. In Riverside, California, 
body-shop owner Francisco Espinoza, 
a.k.a. Little Man, would allegedly await 
the goods. From there, it was just a 
three-hour drive south to the Mexican 
border and a half day's drive beyond 
that to the northwestern state of Sinaloa. 
Authorities claim the cash was poured 
into legitimate businesses and back into 
the legitimate financial system: into a 
seafood restaurant, mall, cattle ranch, 
day-care center. Sometimes, the money 
was hidden in stash houses in Sinaloa. 
The Flores brothers were, on occasion, 
summoned to Sinaloa to verify delivery 
of the cash. Some ofthat money was later 


134 taken to the dozens of casas de cambio— 


money-exchange 
houses—on Calle 
Benito Juárez Oriente 
in the Sinaloan capital 
of Culiacán, where 
the money was 
changed into pesos 
and flushed back into 
the legitimate world. 
Its impossible to 
know how much 
money flowed into 
Mexico at the hands 
of the Flores broth- 
ers, but between 2006 
and 2012 the Mexi- 
can military seized 
roughly $180 million 
in U.S. currency; seizures in Sinaloa 
accounted for about 25 percent of the 
total. In a spate of seizures during just 
one month in 2008, U.S. authorities took 
more than $15 million in cash from the 
Flores brothers' properties in Chicago. 
This is the story of how the authorities 
tracked the Flores brothers' rise from a 


pair of street dealers to kings of the Chi- 
cago drug underworld, as they gradually 
built a U.S.-based empire for their boss, 
Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán Loera, 
head of the Sinaloa cartel and the most 
wanted drug trafficker in the world. 


In 2005, U.S. authorities got their first 
lead. At a traffic stop in Chicago, a sus- 
pect was carrying an illegal weapon. He 
claimed he needed protection against lo- 
cal drug traffickers. He led the feds to 
a man selling drugs on a street corner. 
That man, in turn, led authorities to a 
Chicago-based ranking member of the 
Insane Deuces (continued on page 152) 


135 


“That is you, isn't it, Arnold?” 


1. KENTUCKY 
2. LOUISVILLE 
3. MICHIGAN STATE 
4. KANSAS 

5. DUKE 

6. FLORIDA 

7. ARIZONA NE ; 

8. NORTH CAROLINA NE 
9. OHIO STATE 

10. OKLAHOMA STATE 

11. SYRACUSE 

12. MICHIGAN 

13. VCU 

14. WISCONSIN 

15. MEMPHIS 

16. OREGON 

17. UCLA 

18. GONZAGA 

19. MARQUETTE 

20. TENNESSEE 

21. NOTRE DAME 

22. INDIANA 

23. CONNECTICUT 

24. WICHITA STATE 


25. CREIGHTON 


ILLUSTRATION BY 
TOMASZ USYK 


137 


138 


Will Andrew 
Wiggins live up 
to the hype? 
sy 


ayhawks' Andrew 
Wiggins is the most 
ebrated freshman 
prospect since Greg 
Oden and Kevin Durant 
and probably the best 
high school prospect 
since LeBron James. 
His late commitment to 
Kansas took the Hawks 
from a borderline top- 
15 team to a legitimate 
title contender. And 
though nobody debates 


wonder whether his 
talents will translate 
college quickly enough 
to keep the critics 
silenced. Wiggins will 
probably play only 35 
to 40 college games. 
Can he be great from 
the start, or will chants 
of “overrated” greet 
him in every arena? 
For the record, the 
prediction here 

is stardom. 


Can Michael Dixon 
~ push Josh Pastner to 
4A his first Sweet 16? 


Guard Michael Dixon was the Big 12 Defensive 

Player of the Year in 2012. But the Kansas City 
native was shown the door after a second sexual 
assault accusation. That's when fifth-year Memphis 
coach Josh Pastner entered the picture. After several 
months of research, he found peace in the fact that 
Dixon was never charged in either case and offered him a 
place on the team. Memphis then applied for a waiver that 
would allow Dixon to play immediately; the NCAA granted 
it. Now the Tigers will have four senior guards who have 
averaged double figures in scoring at the Division I level. That's 
why Pastner is suddenly positioned to make his first Sweet 16. 


HOW MANY OF THESE 
HERALDED FRESHMEN WILL 
BE ONE-AND-DONE PLAYERS? 


* DraftExpress.com projects that six 
freshmen—Arizona's Aaron Gordon, 
Duke's Jabari Parker, Kansas's 
Andrew Wiggins and Joel Embiid, 
and Kentucky's Julius Randle and 
Andrew Harrison—will be among 
the first eight picks in the 2014 NBA 
draft. Florida's Chris Walker, Indiana's 
Noah Vonleh, Kansas's Wayne 
Selden, Kentucky's James Young, 
Dakari Johnson and Aaron Harrison, 
LSU's Jarell Martin and Syracuse's 
Tyler Ennis are some other freshmen 
who could jet to the NBA after this 
season. Enjoy them while you can. 


yr” WILL MARSHALL 

fe HENDERSON 

— H 
KR INCITE A RIOT? 


ссе 


ity 
BP. 


* No player was more polarizing last 
season than Marshall Henderson—the 
sharpshooting, jersey-popping, trash- 
talking guard who led Ole Miss to an 
SEC tournament title and a victory in 
the NCAA tournament. Some folks 
loved him. Others despised him. 

Either way, Henderson created a lot 

of headlines, and his off-season was 
anything but boring: The senior guard 
was suspended for failing multiple drug 
tests. But Henderson will remain a part 
of the Ole Miss program this season, 
which means things will stay interesting 
in Oxford, one way or another. 


CAN LOUISVILLE MAKE 
BACK-TO-BACK TITLE RUNS? 


Can another 
surprise school 
make the 
Final Four? 
we 


Wichita State last 
season became the 
fourth nontraditional 
team to appear in the 
Final Four in the past 
eight years, joining 
George Mason (2006), 
VCU (2011) and Butler 
(2010 and 2011). It's 
not all that surprising 
anymore, and it 
shouldn't shock fans if 
it happens this season. 
If it does, we put 
our money on VCU, 
helmed by the hottest 
young coach in the 
country, Shaka Smart. 
He has a roster built 
to do serious damage 
in March, otherwise 
known as the month 
when Smart annually 
rejects contracts from 
bigger and richer 


schools. 


4 


* The decision of shooting 
guard Russ Smith (right) 

to return for his senior year 
was a huge boost to Rick 
Pitino's program, and all the 
pieces appear to be in place 
for Louisville to compete for 
another national championship. 
The only real question is 
whether Chris Jones—the 


reigning national junior 
college player of the year— 
can fill the shoes of Peyton 
Siva, drafted by the Detroit 
Pistons. Jones is undoubtedly 
talented enough, but there are 
few guarantees when starting a 
new point guard. Keep an eye 
on him; he'll likely determine 
how good Louisville can be. 


I WILL BUTLER 
am REMAIN 
Ú RELEVANT? 


* Butler, a small Indianapolis 
school with back-to-back 
runs to the Final Four, proved 
to be one of the nation's 
most exciting programs in 
recent years. Moving from the 
Atlantic 1O to the Big East, 
however, put the school in a 
shark tank of competition. 
And boy, did coach Brad 
Stevens's surprising departure 
to the Celtics make things 
harder. Butler's new coach 

is Brandon Miller, and he's a 
sharp guy. But he's not Brad 
Stevens. The Bulldogs also 
lost their leading returning 
scorer and rebounder 
(Roosevelt Jones) to an off- 
season injury. Last in the Big 
East isn't out of the question. 


WILL INDIANA SURVIVE THE 
LOSS OF CODY ZELLER 
AND VICTOR OLADIPO? 


Can Doug 
McDermott 
do in the Big 
East what he's 
been doing in 


the MVC? 


Doug McDermott has been nothing 

short of spectacular through three 
seasons at Creighton. The six-foot- 
eight forward is averaging 20.1 points 
and 7.7 rebounds for his career while 
shooting 56 percent from the field and 
46.4 percent from three-point range. 
But Creighton is now in the Big East— 
which means McDermott is now in the 
Big East. Fans are eager to see whether 
his gaudy stats will translate to a bigger 
stage where better competition awaits. 


* No team lost two 
players who meant as 

) much as Cody Zeller 

) (left) and Victor Oladipo 


k meant to Indiana 


They combined to 
average 30.1 points 
and 14.4 rebounds last 
season. Both were All 
Americans. Both were 
top-five picks in the 2013 
NBA draft. And now 
Indiana has to compete 
in the Big Ten without 
them, which should be 
challenging—especially 
considering Christian 
Watford and Jordan 
Hulls, the Hoosiers’ 
third- and fourth-leading 
scorers, are also no 
longer in the program. 
Can Indiana live up to 
the success the fans in 
Bloomington demand? 


Kentucky: the season’s 
biggest story—or its 


biggest flop? 


It seems reasonable to end where 
we started—with a big question 
mark hanging over Kentucky's Rupp 
Arena. As you can see from the Wildcats" 
preseason ranking here, our prediction 
is for greatness. But it will still be wild to 
watch John Calipari guide the most heavily 
anticipated freshman class of all time. Will 
the Harrison twins work well with other 
Randle bring the tenacity UK lacked last season? 
Will seven-foot sophomore center Willie Cauley-Stein 
emerge a legitimate star? Let's answer those questions 
yes and a yes. And if those turn out to 
be the correct answers, rest assured Kentucky will be 


with a yes, 


national champion for the second time in three years. 


Will Julius 


PRESEASON ALL 
AMERICA TEAM 


to one of the best 
players in the country. 
He averaged 23.2 
points per game last 
season while shooting 
49 percent from three- 
point range. 


MARCUS SMART 


Smart returned to 
school despite the 
likelihood of his having 
gone in the top five 
of the NBA draft. He 
possesses the best 
combo of leadership 
and talent in the nation. 


JABARI PARKER 


As a high school star 
last year, Parker made 
the cover of Sports 
Illustrated. He's the 
latest great prospect 
out of Chicago, 
specifically the same 
high school where Bulls 
star Derrick Rose once 
played. 


RUSS SMITH 


Smith was the main 
reason the Cardinals 
won the national 
championship last 
season. The sometimes 
out-of-control guard 
averaged 18.7 
points per game, 
helping the team finish 
on a 16-game 
winning streak. 


JULIUS RANDLE 


The tough, skilled 
McDonald's All 
American is projected 
to go immediately 
after Wiggins in the 
2014 NBA draft—if he 
performs as a freshman 
this season. 


MITCH MCGARY 


AARON CRAFT 


Craft is widely 
regarded as the best 
perimeter defender in 
college basketball. As 
a three-year starter, he 
has led the Buckeyes 
to a Sweet 16 (2011), an 
Elite Eight (2013) and 
the Final Four (2012). 


McGary started 
slowly last season but 
developed into one of 
the main reasons for the 
Wolverines' run to the 
national title game. He 
averaged 14.3 points 
and 10.7 rebounds in the 
NCAA tournament. 


GARY HARRIS 


Despite nagging 
injuries, Harris was 
terrific as a freshman, 
averaging 12.9 points 
while leading the 
Spartans to the 
Sweet 16. 


ANDREW WIGGINS 


WILLIE CAULEY- 
STEIN 


Cauley-Stein could 
have been a lottery pick 
after one season if he 
had entered the NBA 
draft, despite averaging 
just 8.3 points per 
game. He's one of three 
centers on the Wildcats’ 
roster likely to play at 
the next level someday. 


RICK PITINO 


Barring a major 
surprise, Wiggins will 
be the top pick of 
the 2014 NBA draft. 
His overwhelming 
presence could lift 
Kansas coach Bill Self 
to his second national 


The only coach ever 
title in seven seasons. 


to lead three different 
programs to the Final 
Four, Pitino will be 
fascinating to watch 
this season. Can the 
defending-champion 
Cardinals repeat? 


DOUG MCDERMOTT 


McDermott has gone 
from a mid-major recruit 


Bevond 
BEACK 


Who says a tuxedo always has 
to be James Bond black and 
white? Or that you can bust 
out a dinner jacket only at 
weddings and balls? With our 
guide to DEFORMALIZING 
FORMALWEAR you'll be 
taking parties to the next level 


and wearing your DINNER 

JACKET TO ACTUAL Fashion by Jennifer Ryan Jones 
DINNERS. With the right 
jacket and accessories you 
can DIAL IT UP OR DIAL 
IT DOWN. Here's how to 


deconstruct the tuxedo. 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY JOSEPH SHIN 


-the - 


BI і ZER ОЁ NEW TUXEDO 

( 7 | OR y VELVET GOLD MINE 
Alexander McQueen 
navy velvet tuxedo 


jacket, $1,675, 
mrporter.com 
* 


is Black Watch 
t holiday parties. 


* Pair this with dark denim 


ind a crisp dress shirt 


Fi АДИ OF THE TUXEDO jacket as the highest expression of the blazer. It has 
subtly elegant details that set it apart from a suit or sports jacket: contrasting 
lapel, satin accents, cove d buttons. That amount of flair can go a lon iy - Peak lapels, a ticket pocket 
toward putting together a look that has a sense of occasion. When it comes to and velvet at a great price. 

the best trick is not to wear black. 

down. This Alexander McQueen 


wearing a formal piece of clothing in a less formal setting. 
A little color, pattern or cool fabric makes it easy to dr 
jacket has so much personality, you can keep it simple with the rest of your outfit. 


Bow Flex 


+ If you wear a bow tie the right way, the disarming and 
charming accessory ranks up there with puppies as a reliable 
way to get women to talk to you. But think dandy, not nerdy. 
This bow tie is handwoven from silk and feathers and is 
guaranteed to inspire at least one conversation. If you're not 
y more subdued 


that much of a peacock, go with somethi 
But if you do, learn how to hand tie one for a more rakish 
appeal and to avoid the prom-night clip-on look 


Monsieur Jean Yves bow tie, $495, available at Saks Fifth Avenue 141 


Flower Power 


* If you're going to an event where 
a tie would look a little too uptight 
and you're tired of the whole 
pocket-square thing, consider 
wearing a lapel flower. If you're 
thinking boo to the boutonniere 
because it’s not quite manly 


enough, think again. These fabric 
flowers are perfectly undersized 


- the - 
TROUSER 
PRESS 


+ A tuxedo can be 
deconstructed any 
number of ways, and 
that includes the 
pants. Tuxedo pants 
can elevate a simple 
black blazer. The details 
on traditional tuxedo 
pants are flattering for a 
number of reasons: They 
typically have vertical 
pockets, which elongate 
your form and make you 
appear taller. The same 
goes for the black satin 
stripe down the side. And 
maybe the coolest thing 
is that they're the original 
Sansabelt: Adjustable 
side tabs negate the 
need for a belt, which 
can bulk up an otherwise 
sleek look. 


Richard James burgundy 
mohair trousers, part of a 
tuxedo, $1,280, mrporte.com 


(about an inch and half wide), come 
in dozens of color combinations 
(from basic black to flashy) and add 
just enough pop to a jacket lapel. 
The go-to brand these days is Hook 
+ Albert. 


Clockwise from top: Carmel, $30; 
Aurora Red, $95; Green Sheen, $30, 
hookandalbert.com 


А COOL 
COLLAR 
* Avoid wing-collar 
tuxedo shirts when 
dressing down. Go 
with a semi-spread 
to show off your 
bow-tie skills or to 
accommodate a 
larger half-Windsor 
knot. 


FLAT FIT 
+ High arm holes 
and a snug fit 
across the chest 
keep your shirt 
from getting 


rumpled. A [3] 
bunched-up shirt 
is inexcusable in a BIB 


semiformal setting. 


OPTIONAL 
* We like that the 
bib on this shirt 
isn't pleated. It 
adds just enough 
detail without 
going overboard. 
A plain-front dress 
shirt would also 
work. 


FRENCH 
+ If you want to 
wear cuff links, 
youre going to 
need French cuffs. 
And you're going to 
want to see them, 
so tailor your jacket 
to show up to an 
inch of sleeve. 


PASS ON THE 
POCKET 
A true dress 
shirt doesn't have 
a pocket on the 
front. Pockets 
say “business.” 
You want your 
evening look to say 

pleasure.” 


NO STUDS 
* Those little 
black studs that 
come with rental 
tuxedos scream 
"rental tuxedo.” 

This shirt has 
mother-of-pearl 
buttons, making 
it appropriate to 
wear with a suit. 


ANATOMY OFA DRESS SHIRT 


'TUNEDO SHIRT doesn't need to be all pleated and extra fancy to look 
dashing. And technically you don't even need it to be a tuxedo shirt. A 
proper dress shirt can work, provided it has the right details and cut. Be sure 
to avoid sport shirts and button-downs. Above, we break down the details on 
this updated tuxedo shirt to show you what to look for. 


Thomas Mason for J. Crew bib-front tuxedo shirt, $168, jerew.com 


> 


Stubbs & Wootton 
College slippers, 
$450, stubbsand 
wootton.com 


PUMP 
ITUP 


THE FOUNDATION ofany outfit 

is the shoes. And the fastest way to 
undermine an upgraded formal look 
is to finish it with down-at-the-heels 
footwear. A pair of well-polished 
black cap-toe oxfords always works, 
but you might want to consider 
going old-school with tuxedo slippers 
(also called pumps). We know that 
doesn't sound very masculine, but 
once you read the pictograms on this 
pair of velvet slippers from Stubbs & 
Wootton you mig 


t be convinced. 


- the - 
PERFECT 
SQUARE 


Don't go for multipeak 
folds when pairing a 


pocket square with a 
tuxedo jacket. Subdued 
is the order of the 
day. The classic, or 
presidential, fold is 
sleek, elegant and easy. 


When deconstructing 
formalwear, you should leave 
the cummerbund in the 


drawer. It is one of those items 


that look just plain goofy out 


of a truly formal context. We're 
lukewarm on the cummerbund 
in a traditionally formal context 


too, as it presents more 
problems than it solves: You 
need to continually adjust it 
throughout the night, and it 
can make your belly sweat— 
never a good look 


White Out 


Half Measure 


Think Cuff Links 


Cuff links are the closest thing to man jewelry 
that we can get behind. In more-casual settings, 
silk knots are fine, but we like the elegance and 
versatility of these mother-of-pearl cuff links. The 
multicolored iridescence makes them the perfect 
match for any number of jacket colors and styles 


David Yurman black mother- 
of-pearl cuff links, $395, 


davidyurman.com 


Adjustment Bureau 


143 


This spread and 
following page: 200 
Motels, August 1976. 


zines in Australia before he returned to Eu- 

rope in 1956 to work for Vogue. Along with 
Irving Penn and Cecil Beaton, Newton became one of 
the masters of fashion photography. His first work for 
PLAYBOY appeared during the mid-1970s, when he was 
assigned to shoot Charlotte Rampling for the magazine. 
It was the beginning of a fertile relationship. Newton 
loved to photograph Playmates, of course, but he pre- 
ferred to do so in unconventional settings or situations. 
"Helmut' influence on nude photography cannot be 
overstated,” said Hugh Hefner. “He used his fashion 
photographer's eye to make the erotic almost surreal- 
istic." Walter Abish has written elsewhere of Newton's 
"inviting artificiality"—of his fetishized point of view, 
which we share with the photographer when we behold 
his exquisite models in their unlikely milieus. Newton 
died ima car accident in West Hollywood in 2004. On 
these pages you will find a selection of some of the 
extraordinary work he did for PLAYBOY. 


orn Helmut Neustádter in Berlin on 
Halloween in 1920, he fled Germany in 
1938. His career began with fashion maga- 


- This spread: 


Newton's Physiques, 


September 1976. 
atas 


a‏ س (быз ERR WE‏ کے 


[| 


ШШ 


| 


| 


ae, 


This spread: Helmut Newton’s 
Playmates, September 1987; 
The Newton Girls, July 1998. 


PLAYBOY 


152 


PUBLIC ENEMY #1 


(continued from page 134) 
gang who had apparently been making 
regular calls to a Mexican drug supplier. 

The authorities followed the chain up- 
ward, to the Flores brothers. The twins, 
whose father hailed from Sinaloa, were 
living between Pilsen and Little Village. 
They had invested in several businesses—a 
restaurant, a barbershop—through which 
they could launder drug money. 

Agents from the Drug Enforcement 
Administration didn’t know exactly what 
they'd stumbled onto. The Flores broth- 
ers had been indicted in Milwaukee a few 
years before. According to court docu- 
ments, they were responsible for the dis- 
tribution of cocaine and heroin through- 
out the Midwest. 

The DEA worked the suspects for in- 
formation. In 2005 the brothers alleg- 
edly flew to Culiacán to discuss business 
opportunities with Sinaloa’s supposed 
number two, Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada 
García, his son Jesús Vicente “El Vicen- 
tillo" Zambada Niebla and several other 
members of the organization. During 
those meetings, the Flores brothers ne- 
gotiated a new deal through which they 
would distribute cocaine and heroin, ac- 
cording to court documents. The deal 
was akin to the one cut by the Colombian 
cartels in the 1990s, when pressure from 
U.S. authorities in the Caribbean forced 
the cartels to enter into a new partner- 
ship with Mexican traffickers. The Mexi- 
cans bought the product directly from 
the Colombians and took control of 
distribution—and consequently carried 
all the risks as well. The Flores brothers 
were about to create their own cartel. 

But mistrust between the Sinaloans 
and the Chicago-based crew remained 
high. In June 2005, when Illinois state 
troopers found 398 kilograms of cocaine 
after a routine inspection near the city of 
Bloomington, Zambada Niebla ordered 
the Flores brothers to produce law en- 
forcement records to prove the load had 
been confiscated by the cops. They did, 
and Zambada Niebla let them off the 
hook. But back in Sinaloa, Arturo and 
Alfredo Beltrán Leyva—two longtime ac- 
complices of El Chapo's as well as cartel 
leaders in their own right—were appar- 
ently becoming increasingly suspicious. 

Could the Flores twins be trusted? 


DEA special agent Jack Riley had gone 
head-to-head with El Chapo before. Sta- 
tioned in El Paso in 2008, Riley had de- 
clared it was his priority to bring justice to 
a chaotic border region. He went for the in- 
your-face approach, no doubt intending to 
bait the drug lord. Riley had once conduct- 
ed an interview with a Ciudad Juárez-based 
reporter during which he'd declared his de- 
sire for justice. But El Chapo wasn't having 
it. Days later, the DEA intercepted wiretaps 
of phone conversations in which his people 
discussed chopping off Riley's head. 


The veteran DEA agent knew the best 
way to get El Chapo and his organiza- 
tion would be to nail their Chicago af- 
filiates. He intended to make arrests, 
pinpoint the distribution routes and 
attack the choke point where the car- 
tels and gangs intersected. Sometimes a 
random arrest yielded a big fish. When 
a bright, sharp-dressed lawyer turned 
up at the scene of an arrest to represent 
a street dealer, the DEA knew it had 
nabbed someone who might lead it back 
to the cartels. Back to the mountains of 
Sinaloa. Back to El Chapo. 

Riley has a reputation for being no- 
nonsense. Fellow DEA agents consider 
him a trustworthy ally in the increasingly 
dangerous war on drugs. He has worked 
for the DEA for 28 years, first under- 
cover and then directing informants. 
He earned his stripes on the streets of 
Chicago before being sent to Milwaukee 
and St. Louis, among other cities. After a 
stint as an instructor at Quantico, he went 
back to the Chicago field division. In 
1998, he headed to Washington to lead 
counter-drug investigations and prosecu- 
tions against Mexican drug-trafficking 
organizations. He then spent a year in El 
Paso before he returned to Chicago. 

Chicago had changed. Or maybe it 
hadn't. Riley had to figure out what he 
was working with. Chicago is, of course, 
well-known for Al Capone and the 
gangster heyday of Prohibition. But in the 
decades since, it has remained a breeding 
ground for criminality. It has never been 
an easy city to police. It is a prime hub for 
the transport of illicit products: Dozens 
of railway lines lead into and out of the 
city. Outside traffickers—Colombians, 
Dominicans and Puerto Ricans—have 
long shipped in their drugs to be 
distributed throughout the Midwest. 
Local smugglers have used some of the 
city's thousands of warehouses to store 
illicit goods. Auto mechanics have been 
recruited for the construction of secret 
compartments in vehicles. With a poverty 
rate of roughly 20 percent, Chicago 
has been ripe for exploitation. In 
neighborhoods such as Humboldt Park 
and Garfield Park, more than 30 percent 
of residents live in poverty. 

During the 1920s and 1930s, Mexican 
immigrants flocked to Chicago, with many 
eventually settling in Pilsen and Little Vil- 
lage. In the 1950s, a man from the Mexi- 
can state of Durango moved in to exploit a 
potentially vast workforce. Jaime Herrera 
Nevares, a former state judicial police- 
man, launched what came to be known 
as a "farm-to-arm" heroin operation. He 
cultivated poppy in the mountains of Du- 
rango and Sinaloa (where he had ties to 
old-time drug lord Ernesto "Don Neto" 
Fonseca Carrillo, who is serving a 40-year 
sentence in Mexico), processed and pack- 
aged it in the cities there and moved it 
directly to Chicago. The entire process 
was controlled by members of the Her- 
rera family, making it the first cartel to 
operate on U.S. soil. By the late 1970s, 


the Herrera organization was believed to 
be grossing $60 million annually, import- 
ing more than 700 pounds of heroin into 
the country each year. The Herrera fam- 
ily controlled as much as 90 percent of lo- 
cal heroin distribution. 

The DEA began to investigate Her- 
rera Nevares and his son Jaime Herrera 
Herrera more thoroughly, arresting af- 
filiates in Chicago as well as in Mexico. 
As they expanded to Denver, Los Ange- 
les, Miami and Pittsburgh, the Herreras 
left trails. In 1979, the DEA launched a 
special Central Tactical Program to target 
the Herreras and their network. On July 
23, 1985, after a two-year investigation 
known as Operation Durango, 120 mem- 
bers of the organization (out of 132 who 
were indicted) were captured. Just three 
years later, Mexican authorities arrested 
Herrera Nevares and his son. 

While the Herreras dominated the 
Hispanic and suburban markets, as well 
as controlled the distribution routes 
out of Chicago, local African American 
gangs emerged on the South Side and 
West Side. Incarcerated for the mur- 
der of another drug dealer, 30-year-old 
Mississippi-born Larry Hoover seized on 
an opportunity to build an organization 
of hardened criminals. 

“It is time for us to go to school, learn 
trades and develop all of our talents and 
skills," wrote Hoover in a 1981 memo to 
would-be followers, “so we will become 
stronger in society. We cannot wait for 
the system to teach us. We must take it 
upon ourselves to learn all we can about 
this world. We, as an organization, will 
not stand still and die." 

It was with these words that the Afri- 
can American gang world was consoli- 
dated in Chicago under the leadership, 
from prison, of Hoover and his Gang- 
ster Disciples. At the gang's height it 
had 30,000 militant followers. Hoover 
repeatedly—and publicly—urged them 
not to resort to violence but instead to 
study and learn useful skills. 

His rhetoric failed to win over the au- 
thorities. While Hoover was preaching 
the good word, his followers were practic- 
ing the evil deed of drug trafficking. The 
authorities began to connect the dots: 
Hoover's organization operated under a 
hierarchical system. The top players in the 
gangs were assigned titles such as gover- 
nor, regent or coordinator. Each governor 
had about 1,000 foot soldiers under his 
control to sell drugs on the streets. Un- 
derage scouts helped distribute the drugs 
without the cops knowing. Members of 
Hoover's inner circle had nicknames; the 
big man himself was known as the Chair- 
man, while various accomplices went by 
Pops, Crusher, Heavy and Khadafi. 

The Gangster Disciples had their own 
rules. At regular meetings, usually run 
by the governors, discipline and orders 
were dished out. Lower-ranking gang 
members were required to pay dues—a 
percentage of the profits they made from 
dealing dope—known as "the weekly." 


"Lady, you're the 39th naughty girl Гое met tonight, and I no longer even care.” 


153 


PLAYBOY 


154 


Stealing money, alerting the cops to illicit 
activity, failing to show respect for gang 
leaders and missing meetings constituted 
violations. The punishment, according to 
prosecutors, was vintage Capone: a beating 
with a baseball bat. Gangster Disciples paid 
the Chairman the equivalent of roughly 
one day of drug profits per week from sales 
that exceeded $100 million per year. 

Hoover and his organization went to great 
lengths to launder money. According to court 
documents, they poured dollars into local 
political organizations and charity concerts. 
Hoover also encouraged his followers to in- 
vest in property rather than the flashy cars 
and accessories so commonly associated with 
drug traffickers and mobsters. Their invest- 
ments also served to give Gangster Disciples 
better standing in the community, winning 
over skeptical hearts and minds. 


In 1995 Hoover was sentenced to life 
behind bars. Dozens of his associates were 
imprisoned; others splintered off to form 
their own gangs. To this day, former mem- 
bers of the Gangster Disciples are still be- 
ing arrested. Some estimates put the gang's 
current numbers as high as 18,000. 

By the time Hoover was sentenced, the 
Gangster Disciples weren't the only game 
in town. Demand for cocaine, heroin, 
methamphetamine and marijuana had 
been growing. 

The power vacuum was quickly filled. 
Almost overnight, Chicago became the 
only city in the United States to have rep- 
resentatives from every major Mexican 
drug-trafficking organization: La Familia 
Michoacana had representatives in Ber- 
wyn, Hickory Hills, Oak Lawn, Boling- 
brook and Joliet. Los Zetas had a presence 


“Let's go back to my place. Visions of your sugarplums are already 
dancing in my head.” 


at the intersection of the Little Village and 
North Lawndale neighborhoods, as well 
as on the South Side. The Gulf cartel and 
the Juárez cartel were believed to have set 
up cells scattered throughout the city. It 
was around this time, in the mid-1990s, 
that El Chapo began to eye Chicago. One 
of his Sinaloa cartel lieutenants alleg- 
edly began scouting the city for spaces in 
which to store drugs for later distribution 
to New York. A warehouse in Franklin 
Park was leased by a Sinaloa cartel affili- 
ate. It came to be known by El Chapo and 
his crew as “the Chicago Warehouse” and 
“the Big House,” according to court docu- 
ments. Even in those early days there was 
mistrust between the Sinaloa higher-ups 
and their Chicago brokers. According to 
an indictment, one of the Chicago-based 
crew members was summoned back to 
Sinaloa in October 1994 to explain the 
loss of a cocaine shipment and the finan- 
cial proceeds. Still, it wasn't long before 
the Sinaloa cartel settled in for the long 
haul, establishing itself in Little Village 
and Pilsen. 

Hoover had fallen, but heroin from the 
hills of Sinaloa kept flowing along the high- 
ways into Chicago. 


One of the heroin highways in Chi- 
cago is the Eisenhower Expressway. Bill 
Patrianakos was a habitual pot user who, 
along the way, tried other drugs includ- 
ing cocaine and opiates such as OxyCon- 
tin. He'd been totally clean for about eight 
months when he decided he needed a 
reward. Heroin. He'd give it a shot, try it 
once and “be just fine.” 

Patrianakos went online, searching law 
enforcement sites for the areas of Chicago 
that had the most heroin-related arrests. 
More arrests meant more dealers. He 
found the portion of the map with the 
highest concentration of red dots, got in 
his car and headed for the heroin highway. 

It's not hard to find a dealer near the 
Eisenhower. Take any exit between Har- 
lem Avenue and the Loop, and you'll find 
one. Patrianakos asked a few passersby. 
Eventually one guy walking down the 
street, an addict, offered to lead the way 
if he would share some of the heroin. The 
addict went into a building; Patrianakos 
waited in the car. Ten minutes later, the 
deal was done: Heroin in hand, Patriana- 
kos had made his contact. "At that point we 
formed a strange friendship, and he was 
my heroin guy," Patrianakos recalls. "I'd 
call him, he'd say to come on up to the city. 
He'd take me to the best dope spots. We'd 
do our drugs, and I'd go back home." 

Within weeks, Patrianakos was using ev- 
ery day. His cash began to run out. Ninety 
percent of his money went to heroin, five 
percent to gas to drive to get the heroin, 
and five percent went toward food. "My 
cash flow was destroyed," he recalls. He 
started stealing from his sister, then his 
mother, then his father. He even started 
counterfeiting $100 bills on his computer. 

Patrianakos was concerned about the DEA 
and the city cops, but he thought he'd be 
able to outsmart them. He had rules—never 


use fake cash in the same store twice, for in- 
stance. But desperation always strikes an ad- 
dict. Patrianakos broke his own rules, going 
to Walgreens to buy prescription pills. The 
cashier rejected Patrianakos's fake $100. Pa- 
trianakos played dumb and began to walk 
toward the door. He heard a call being 
placed for the manager. As he backed out of 
the parking lot, an employee came out ofthe 
store and wrote down his license number. “I 
got you! I got you!" she screamed. 

Patrianakos went home and destroyed 
the fake bills and the computer. He tore 
apart the printer. Weeks went by, and no 
cops showed up. He was in the clear. He 
went on a trip to visit family. 

When he got back, agents were waiting 
for him at the airport. There was a war- 
rant for his arrest. Patrianakos spent the 
night and the next day in Cook County 
Jail. He then went into treatment and be- 
gan his long recovery. 

According to official statistics, in some 
Chicago-area counties as many as 50 
people overdose on heroin each year. Ac- 
cording to Patrianakos, who is now on the 
board of the Heroin Epidemic Relief Or- 
ganization, many of the customers are sub- 
urban white kids who want to take a stab 
at heroin. A gram of Mexican brown—the 
cheaper stuff—goes for about $100; Mexi- 
can black tar can reach as high as $200. 

Despite the drug violence, Patrianakos 
doesn't think the war on drugs in Chicago 
is as bad as it can seem. The cops, for ex- 
ample, take no pleasure in locking up kids 
who buy heroin. "The police turn a blind 
eye when it makes sense," he says. "The 
law may often be black-and-white, but in 
life there is nothing but shades of gray. The 
Chicago police seem to understand this 
when it comes to users." He thinks people 
are finally starting to understand the folly 
of filling prisons with drug addicts. A lo- 
cal program called Drug Court allows first- 
time offenders who are not drug dealers 
but who committed a crime as a direct re- 
sult of addiction to pay a fine, get a job, do 
community service, quit using drugs and 
go to school. Complete the program and 
the charges are dropped; one's record can 
be expunged after a year. Last year, Illinois 
passed a Good Samaritan law that grants 
immunity to anyone caught with a small 
amount of drugs when they call for help in 
the case of an overdose—juveniles no lon- 
ger have to fear arrest if a friend overdoses 
and needs medical care. “I don't think the 
drug trade in Chicago or anywhere in the 
world will ever be stopped," says Patriana- 
kos. "If I were king for a day, my solution 
to the drug trade problem would be to ad- 
mit it can never be stopped and only mini- 
mized. Then, instead of going after the 
supply, Pd go after the demand." 


Sitting in his office in the John C. Kluczyn- 
ski Federal Building at 230 South Dear- 
born Street, Jack Riley ponders the idea 
of legalization. What would happen if the 
drug war ended tomorrow? After all, it has 
been a 40-year slog, with about $1 trillion 
in taxpayer money spent with questionable 
results. "It would be chaos," Riley says. 


Riley works for the DEA alongside doz- 
ens of other agencies under the same roof. 
FBI, IRS, ATF—you name it, they're at 
230 Dearborn. It hasn't always been this 
way: In the 1990s, interagency tensions 
and turf wars prompted FBI director 
Louis Freeh to suggest the DEA and FBI 
merge. It never happened, but coopera- 
tion has increased. This is the way inter- 
agency counter-drug operations work 
these days: The DEA, with its specialized 
expertise in international drug operations, 
is often top dog, sharing its intel with other 
officials. Each agency has its own portfolio. 
The FBI, for instance, contributes mainly 
through its expertise in sustained, long- 
term investigations. There have been ups 
and downs, some big victories and some 
missed opportunities. Riley is clearly proud 
of his accomplishments; he's equally proud 
of the working relationships he's built with 
fellow law enforcement agents in Chicago. 


Chicago has come a long way since the 
days when aldermen were affiliated with 
gangs, but some criminologists have pub- 
licly claimed that city politics and gangs re- 
main connected in a shadowy alliance that 
refuses to break. 

Aside from the challenges presented by 
going after criminals—the city has 12,000 
officers on its police force and an estimated 
100,000 gang members—the Chicago Po- 
lice Department has long fought to main- 
tain its integrity. The case of Saul Rodri- 
guez has again placed Chicago's police 
under scrutiny. After police officer Glenn 
Lewellen arrested him and turned him 
into an informant, Rodriguez, head of a lo- 
cal drug-trafficking gang, teamed up with 
Lewellen in 1996. They formed "the En- 
terprise," according to prosecutors, who 
alleged that members of the Enterprise 
robbed, kidnapped and even murdered 
rival drug dealers for their proceeds. 
Lewellen, meanwhile, kept the group in- 
formed about police investigations into the 
Enterprise's activities. 

Around 2003 a member of the Enterprise 
began to buy cocaine from a pair of twins, 
according to court documents. Rodriguez 
learned that these twins had access to large 
amounts of cash and cocaine and were well 
connected to Mexican suppliers. Rodriguez 
was introduced to them at Hoops Gym in 
Chicago; they began to play basketball to- 
gether. Rodriguez and Lewellen—who had 
retired from the Chicago Police Department 
the year before—plotted to kidnap at least 
one of them and hold them for ransom. The 
twins, Rodriguez learned, were wanted on 
money-laundering charges in the United 
States and frequently made trips to Mexico. 

In the spring of 2006, having failed in 
various bids to kidnap the twins, Rodri- 
guez and his crew stole more than 300 kilos 
of cocaine from them. The twins noticed, 
as did their cartel contacts. The cartel or- 
dered Rodriguez to kidnap two suspects 
and interrogate them, which Rodriguez 
did despite knowing who was responsible 
for the theft. According to court docu- 
ments, Rodriguez and his crew beat the 
men prior to releasing them. 


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PLAYBOY 


After Lewellen and Rodriguez teamed 
up in 1996, Lewellen managed to keep the 
DEA at bay by arguing that investigating 
Rodriguez would hamper police investiga- 
tions into other drug organizations. But in 
early 2009 Rodriguez overplayed his hand. 
At a meeting at the Polekatz strip club in 
suburban Bridgeview, a source of his pro- 
posed stealing 600 kilos of cocaine from 
an unnamed Mexican cartel. Soon after, 
in April of the same year, Rodriguez and 
several other members of the Enterprise 
were arrested. The source had been a DEA 
informant; the cocaine deal had been a 
sting operation. Lewellen was arrested in 
November 2010 and sentenced to 18 years. 
Other members of the Enterprise received 
up to 60 years. Rodriguez, having testi- 
fied against his former cohorts to avoid the 
death penalty, faces up to 40 years under 
a plea deal. 

In 2012, Rodriguez was allegedly ap- 
proached by a fellow inmate at the Metro- 
politan Correctional Center. The inmate, 
Vicente Zambada Niebla, a.k.a. Vicentillo, 
supposedly asked for Rodriguez's help in 
getting rid of two twins who ran a major 
drug-trafficking operation in Chicago. Their 
names were Pedro and Margarito Flores. 


“Twin, you know guys coming back from 
the war. Find somebody who can give you 
big powerful weapons, American shit. We 
don't want Middle Eastern or Asian guns; 
we want big U.S. guns or rocket-propelled 
grenades.” Zambada Niebla was talking to 
Margarito Flores at an undisclosed moun- 
taintop location in Sinaloa. It was October 
2008. The Flores brother was paying a visit 
to his bosses. They weren't happy. Law en- 
forcement pressure in Mexico was mount- 
ing; Zambada Niebla's uncle had been ar- 
rested a week earlier. The bosses had fallen 
out with the Beltrán Leyva brothers, with 
whom the Flores brothers had also been 
doing business. They were now at war with 
their former partners in crime. “This gov- 
ernment is letting the gringos [U.S. law 
enforcement] do whatever they want,” said 
Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada García, Vicen- 
tillo's father, according to transcripts of 
the conversation published in court docu- 
ments. “All we need is for them to try and 
extradite him [Arturo Beltrán Leyva].” 

El Chapo weighed in. "It's too early for 
that. It's going to take a long time. They 
are fucking us everywhere. What are we 
going to do?" El Mayo suggested sending 
the authorities "a message." 

"Whatever we do, we have to do it in 
someone else's territory, in el humo." (El 
humo, "the smoke,” is code for Mexico City, 
which at the time was under the control of 
the Beltrán Leyva brothers.) 

“Yeah, it would be good to do it in the 
smoke,” El Chapo said. “At least we'll get 
something good out of it, and the Beltrán 
Leyva brothers will get the heat. Let it be 
a government building—it doesn't matter 
whose. An embassy or a consulate, a media 
outlet or television station." 

Zambada Niebla turned back to Mar- 
garito Flores, who allegedly agreed to do 


156 his best to obtain the weapons. El Chapo 


and Vicentillo made it clear this was not 
a request but an order. 


A phone call, late November 2008: Mar- 
garito Flores, in Chicago, asks to speak 
with Vicentillo, according to court tran- 
scripts of the recording. 
FLORES: Hey, do you remember what we 
talked about? About those toys? 
ZAMBADA NIEBLA: Yes. 
FLORES: I have somebody that just got out of 
the service. He said he could hook me up, 
but they're going to charge twice as much. 
Is that okay? 
ZAMBADA NIEBLA: That's fine. Just let me know. 
Flores had found someone willing to sell 
him weapons: his DEA contact. They had dis- 
cussed black-market prices and various types 
of weaponry so Flores could appear knowl- 
edgeable. Just days later, the Flores brothers 
and the Sinaloa cartel leadership made a deal 
for the transportation and distribution of 574 
kilos of cocaine directly to Chicago. 


Zambada Niebla never got the weapons. 
Shortly after a series of meetings with DEA 
agents in a Mexico City hotel in March 2009, 
he was arrested by the Mexican military and 
extradited to Chicago. His defense filed a mo- 
tion claiming the DEA had offered Zambada 
Niebla immunity from prosecution in ex- 
change for information provided by a Sinaloa 
cartel lawyer turned informant. But DEA 
agents have neither the jurisdiction to arrest a 
suspect on foreign soil nor the power to grant 
immunity without authorization from Wash- 
ington, which they lacked in this instance. 
U.S. government prosecutors, in turn, filed 
to invoke the Classified Information Proce- 
dures Act. Zambada Niebla's trial has been re- 
peatedly postponed. Judge Ruben Castillo, a 
veteran adjudicator of drug cases in Chicago 
and an Obama administration candidate for 
the Supreme Court, has suggested the trial 
could resume in December. 

Since Zambada Niebla's arrest, dozens of 
high-ranking members of the Sinaloa cartel— 
as well as the Beltrán Leyva brothers and sev- 
eral top financial operators—have been ar- 
rested or killed, quashing conspiracy theories 
that the authorities in Mexico were favoring, 
or even colluding with, the Sinaloa cartel. 
The Flores brothers' case has not yet gone 
to court, and El Chapo himself remains free. 

DEA agents continue to insist El Chapo's 
days are numbered. Jack Riley has repeat- 
edly likened him to Al Capone, whom the 
authorities got on tax evasion. The mon- 
ey trail from the Flores brothers back to 
Chicago may well allow the authorities to 
hammer a nail in El Chapo's coffin. But re- 
gardless of his fate, El Chapo's legacy will 
live on in Chicago. The police department 
has begun to go after drug trafficking as if 
in a "ground war," as police chief Garry F. 
McCarthy put it, assigning more beat cops 
to the streets. There were 500 homicides in 
Chicago in 2012; police say there should be 
fewer this year. Whether or not the police 
can keep the cartels out of what has become 
a gold mine of a city remains to be seen. 


MARSDEN 


(continued from page 84) 


was just really nervous. Anyway, we had more 
drinks, he played more music, and then 
at some point he gave me a look that said, 
"Okay, you've got to get the fuck out of here." 


9 

PLAYBOY: A blogger LN dubbed you "the 
most screwed-over man in the history of 
movies" because every woman ends up 
cheating on you. Jean Grey kisses Wolver- 
ine in the X-Men movies, Lois Lane is hot 
for Superman in Superman Returns, and on 
and on. What's up with that? 

MARSDEN: It's not by design. I guess I just 
have a look that says "third wheel." I have 
a long history of weird relationships on- 
screen. I once date-raped Mayim Bialik on 
a very special episode of Blossom. 


Q10 

PLAYBOY: How is your luck with women 
offscreen? 

MARSDEN: Hit and miss. When I moved to 
L.A. the women were so aggressive and lib- 
erated it almost scared me. But I was also 
like, Bring it on. I dated for a bit, but then 
shortly after I turned 20 I met a woman 
and got married. Now I'm single with 
three kids. People try to set me up, but 
it feels strange to go on a date. I guess at 
some point I'll just have to nut up. 


11 

PLAYBOY: Is there uo to the rumor that. 
you're the father of January Jones's baby? 
MARSDEN: There's so much stupid talk out 
there. I think that came from somebody 
thinking we were both in X-Men so it must 
be true. Every time I see January, she's like, 
"Hey, father of my baby." 


12 

PLAYBOY: You and Haie Berry were recent- 
ly spotted together on a plane to Montreal. 
Does this mean you'll be back as Cyclops in 
X-Men: Days of Future Past? 

MARSDEN: People get so excited about the 
convergence of the two casts and all the 
possibilities. But what it means is Halle and 
I were on a plane together, which has hap- 
pened a few times, actually. The first time 
we flew together she was eating out of a 
huge bag from Burger King. I just sat there 
watching, thinking, I love you, Halle Berry. 


13 

PLAYBOY: What T would you like to see 
for Cyclops? 

MARSDEN: Cyclops is a tricky character be- 
cause his power is so weird. I mean, put- 
ting his finger to his ear? It's not all that 
spectacular. There's not a lot of action to 
that. I was able to do a minor fight scene in 
the second X-Men, which was cool. But fans 
still come up and say, "Cyclops kind of got 
shat on." I agree. The character is a little 
bit of a stiff Boy Scout. 


2¹⁶ 
PLAYBOY: Did you get to keep the visor? 
MARSDEN: They were nice enough to give 
me one. I think about wearing it every 


Halloween, but I'm too scared somebody 
will grab it and run away with it. It's very 
delicate. Stan Lee also gave me something 
cool—an old Cyclops shampoo bottle 
that was a merchandising thing from the 
1960s or 1970s. 


15 
PLAYBOY: What's it ГА making chick flicks? 
MARSDEN: What's funny is guys coming up 
going, “Hey, man, you're in my favorite 
movie of all time." I'm thinking X-Men or 
whatever, and they're like, “The Notebook. 1 
was bawling at the end.” Like dude dudes, 
you know? Good for you, man! That's great. 


Q16 

PLAYBOY: Was it awkward having sex in a 
bathroom with Kirsten Dunst in Bachelorette? 
MARSDEN: People think, Oh my God, that 
must have been so great. I just find sex 
scenes uncomfortable. l've done scenes 
with women who were topless, and you're 
hyperaware of not staring at their chests. 
You're never thinking, Wow, this is really 
exciting. You just think, Wow, how can I 
reassure this actress I'm not a total perv? 


Q17 

PLAYBOY: You've made three movies with 
Frank Langella, who has been called Hol- 
lywood's bitchiest man. True? 


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MARSDEN: I love Frank, but he has a dirty 
joke he tells over and over, and he's going 
to hate me for sharing it: A guy walks into 
a patent office and says, "T've got an inven- 
tion." The clerk says, "What is it?" The guy 
says, "It's an apple. Take a bite." The clerk 
takes a bite and says, "It tastes like a ba- 
nana." “Turn it around,” the guy says. The 
clerk turns it around and takes another 
bite. "That tastes like a peach." "Turn it 
around." "It tastes like strawberries." "It's 
every fruit you can imagine in one fruit," 
the guy says. The clerk goes, "This is ridic- 
ulous. People like their fruits with different 
flavors, different textures." The guy's up- 
set because he worked so hard on it. The 
clerk leans over and whispers, "Can you 
make it taste like pussy?" The guy smiles 
and goes away. Six months later, he's back 
with the apple. The clerk takes a bite and 
spits it out. "This tastes like shit!" he says. 
"The guy says, "Turn it around." 
Sorry, Frank. 


Q18 

PLAYBOY: Any life lessons from playing Tina 
Fey's dopey stay-at-home husband, Criss 
Chros, on 30 Rock? 

MARSDEN: I just let her be the man in the 
relationship. Sometimes you have to let 
the woman be the guy, and Liz Lemon 
makes that easy. 


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Q19 

PLAYBOY: What would you do if you didn't 
have to work? 

MARSDEN: Probably play fantasy football. 
It's the most ridiculous waste of time ever 
invented. When I was growing up in Okla- 
homa, everybody was big into sports, but 
I couldn't give two shits about it. I didn't 
really have a football team; I did theater. 
Then two years ago my buddies needed 
an extra guy, and I wasn't doing anything. 
I drafted a lineup and started winning. 
Now it's like managing a small company. 
This year I'd like all running backs: Adrian 
Peterson, Doug Martin, Arian Foster, Mar- 
shawn Lynch. I sound like the biggest fuck- 
ing loser in the world right now. 


Q20 

PLAYBOY: Your dad's a well-known author- 
ity on meat safety. Would you care to share 
some public service tips? 

MARSDEN: I would be more wary about eat- 
ing undercooked burgers than eating an un- 
dercooked steak. With steak there's bacteria 
on the outside but not on the inside. When 
you take that raw piece of meat and grind 
it up, bacteria move to the middle. Readers, 
if you get anything from this interview, it's 
this: Order your burgers medium-well. 


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157 


PLAYBOY 


MCCLOSKEY 


(continued from page 72) 
non-DNA cases like the Savannah Three's, 
cases that rely on shoe leather and old- 
fashioned investigation rather than a single 
lab test. In short, Centurion takes the very 
toughest cases. 

Even so, CM's reputation is now so 
sterling that courts sometimes give its 
cases special attention. Lawyers who are 
chosen to work with CM, usually at less 
than half their normal fees, take great 
pride in doing so. 60 Minutes has featured 
three of CM's cases on its show, and one of 
those segments was largely responsible for 
gaining a prisoner parole. Television and 
movies have come calling, but McCloskey 
dismissed them when a scriptwriter had 
him interrogating a witness and then 
winding up in bed with her, and in any 
case, McCloskey says he doesn't have the 
time to fool with entertainment. 

What keeps Jim McCloskey going for 
long days at his Princeton, New Jersey 
headquarters and in a grind in which he 
spends nearly half his life on the road, of- 
ten in the bleakest American backwaters, is 
not the search for notoriety. It is an awful 
knowledge he bears: He knows the justice 
system is often corrupt. He knows police 
and prosecutors and witnesses sometimes 
lie to get convictions. He knows inno- 
cent men are spending their lives behind 
bars, even when the system realizes they 
are innocent. He knows that, despite the 
presumption of innocence, most people— 
most jurors—have such faith in law en- 
forcement and prosecutorial judgment 
that there is often a presumption of guilt 
instead. More specifically, he knows the 
Savannah Three are innocent. "I have 
never encountered a case where it was so 
obvious that one man, let alone three, were 
arrested without any credible evidence 
and were convicted," he says. 

So McCloskey headed down to Savannah, 
as he had headed into so many communi- 
ties before, to free them. But he also headed 
down to save himselfas much as to save them. 


The journey that took Jim McCloskey to 
prisons and courtrooms was a long and 
often dark one, though to look at him he 
hardly seems like the kind of guy who 
pounds the meanest streets in America, con- 
fronts some of the toughest folks and stares 
down some of the most intractable prosecu- 
tors and police officers. There is something 
cherubic about him, and he bears a faint 
resemblance to the old Warner Bros. star 
Pat O'Brien, who specialized in bighearted 
Irish priests and cops. People describe him 
as kind looking, the sort of guy who makes 
you feel good, though he would be the first 
to tell you looks can be deceiving. 

He had an idyllic upbringing. He was 
born in Philadelphia 71 years ago into 
Irish aristocracy. His great-uncle Matt 
McCloskey owned a large construction firm 
that built the Spectrum and Veterans Sta- 
dium, among other landmarks. Uncle Matt 
contributed so much to the Democratic 


158 Party that he became its national treasurer 


and was then appointed ambassador to Ire- 
land by President Kennedy. By that time, 
Jim's father was an executive in McCloskey 
Construction, and Jim was known to his 
friends as Matt, after the family patriarch. 
The only shadow on the family arrived in 
1947, when Jim was five. His mother took 
to her bed one Friday with flu-like symp- 
toms and awoke on Sunday paralyzed by 
polio. The night she was diagnosed, Jim's 
father, who never drank, got drunk. It was 
the last time the family let its spirits flag. 

He attended Haverford High School, in 
a Philadelphia suburb, where despite being 
small and spindly he was a decent athlete, 
and then attended Bucknell, where he 
eked by with a dream of becoming a 
successful business executive, the same 
dream harbored by just about all his 
friends and frat brothers. What his best 
friend in college, Joe Elliott, remembers is 
that McCloskey was always the class jester. 
McCloskey admits, "I wanted to be the 
center of attention. I wanted to be liked. I 
would do anything to get a laugh." 

But even as he was amusing his class- 
mates, McCloskey was suffering an internal 
crisis. He realized he had wanted so badly to 
be accepted, to conform to the group, that 
he had lost his identity. He had become, as 
he now puts it, "inauthentic." So he made 
a resolution—a lifelong resolution. He de- 
termined that henceforth he was going to 
be "my own man." That's why he gave up 
his business aspirations and did something 
that baffled his friends. He joined the Navy 
at the very time the war in Vietnam was 
raging. That was his first departure from 
the settled path. It wouldn't be his last. 


After McCloskey decided to take the 
Savannah Three case in 2009, he and 
Paul Henderson, his chief investigator, 
spent months over the next three and 
a half years talking to 125 people in 
17 states to accumulate new evidence. 
Henderson is a crusty, idiosyncratic, 
chain-smoking former newspaper crime 
reporter who won a Pulitzer Prize while at 
the Seattle Times for a three-part series that 
exculpated an innocent man convicted of 
rape. (Henderson also found the actual 
perpetrator.) That made him the go-to guy 
for the wrongly accused in the Northwest. 
But he suffered from ADD, got itchy at 
the paper and wound up opening his 
own private-investigation office. He was 
recommended to McCloskey in 1987 to 
work a California case, the first of many, 
and then joined the Centurion staff in 
1996 and worked there until his retirement 
in 2011. Henderson and McCloskey often 
took to the field together, tracking down 
witnesses and knocking on doors, and they 
did so again in the Savannah case. 

Of course many of those witnesses had 
no desire to talk with McCloskey, so he had 
to use subterfuge. He befriended a former 
Savannah policeman who had served time 
for protecting drug dealers and got per- 
mission from him to use his name when he 
approached other policemen. That's how 
McCloskey gained access to the original in- 
vestigating officer of the Savannah Three, 


Harvey Middleton, whom McCloskey 
tracked down in Miami Beach, where Mid- 
dleton was working as a cop. McCloskey 
found the woman who had testified about 
Jones's desire to kill a black man, in a small 
town in North Carolina. He found a cab- 
driver who had seen the three arrive at 
Tops, the club's bouncer, fellow soldiers 
from their outfit, even a waitress from the 
Golden Corral. In one two-week period 
alone he drove 2,100 miles, crisscrossing 
Georgia, North Carolina and Florida. 

In many ways McCloskey is an anomaly— 
an old-fashioned investigator in a newfan- 
gled age. He never uses a computer. When 
he finishes an interview, he drives a block 
away, pulls his car to the side of the road 
and writes meticulous notes. He is studi- 
ously organized. "Deliberate and orga- 
nized to the teeth" is how Paul Henderson 
describes him, so that even his toiletries are 
neatly laid out in his hotel bathroom. He is 
notoriously fearless, usually showing up at 
a witness's house unannounced. Nothing 
stops him, not even when a witness's hus- 
band greeted him at the door with a Ger- 
man shepherd and a revolver. (McCloskey 
had had the temerity to ask the man's per- 
mission to ask his wife one last question.) 
And perhaps above all, he is relentless. 
"When they take a case," attorney Peter 
Camiel says, "the case doesn't end until the 
client is out or the client passes away." 

For the Savannah Three, McCloskey and 
Henderson had done their due diligence, 
whittling their list of interviewees to 22 
witnesses they intended to call at the evi- 
dentiary hearing, should they get one. But 
there was one witness they had yet to find: 
the Reverend James White. In December 
2009, McCloskey flew to Georgia and talked 
to White's friends, his relatives, his former 
neighbors, even his fellow preachers, leav- 
ing his card behind when they said they 
didn't know where White was but never tell- 
ing them why he wanted to find him. Sev- 
eral weeks passed. Then, on December 23, 
McCloskey got a call. "Do I know you?" 
White asked, thinking McCloskey might be 
a bill collector. McCloskey explained that he 
was researching the Savannah Three case. 
White told him to call back after the holi- 
days. McCloskey did White one better. That 
January he again flew down to Georgia, 
where a former pastor of White's told him 
White and his wife were homeless and living 
in a Super 8 motel in White's old hometown 
of Newnan. McCloskey spotted them in the 
motel parking lot, was told by White to come 
back in an hour (McCloskey staked out the 
hotel from the McDonald's next door), then 
sat down with White and his wife, Suzette, 
who "sagged" when McCloskey introduced 
himself and mentioned the crime. They 
talked mainly about Scripture, not the Sa- 
vannah Three. “He was so kind," White 
later said. “I felt free to talk to him." 

What McCloskey did not know is that 
James White had been, in White's words, 
a “haunted” man ever since the Savannah 
Three trial. He had seen the perpetrators 
for only five seconds at most, at a distance 
of more than 70 feet, at an intersection 
in the dark of night lit only by a single 
streetlamp. He had initially identified 


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160 


neither the car nor the men—saying only 
that their car looked like the murderers' car 
and that their clothes were like the murder- 
ers' clothes. Still, over the years, he thought 
about his testimony a lot. Suzette, the only 
one who knew about his doubts, pressured 
him to recant, even threatening to divorce 
him if he didn't. Instead, he quit his job and 
moved from Savannah back to Newnan. He 
suffered a series of strokes and a heart at- 
tack that confined him to a wheelchair. “Pm 
sick because I done worry myself to death," 
he says. And what he worried about was 
having given false testimony. 

But it wasn't easy for him to make that 
admission, especially since he felt the real 
murderers were still at large. McCloskey 
returned to Newnan in March to continue 
their conversation in his hotel room, but 
White failed to show. Suzette said he had 
just undergone surgery, which he had, but 
McCloskey now insisted that the soldiers 
would be "crucified" if White didn't speak to 
him. So White and Suzette agreed to lunch 
the next day at an Olive Garden, and it was 


then that White finally uttered the words 
McCloskey had longed to hear: He had lied. 
Then McCloskey left, but before he did, he 
asked if White and Suzette would pose with 
him for a photograph, which they did. 
There was a method to that. By May, 
he had tracked White to a new address, 
in Hogansville, Georgia, where White, 
McCloskey and attorney Peter Camiel dis- 
cussed White's giving them a signed affida- 
vit recanting his testimony. Time passed. 
White disappeared again, and he wasn't 
answering his cell phone. So McCloskey 
and Camiel returned to Georgia in Janu- 
ary 2011 and began yet another search 
for James White. No one seemed to know 
where he had gone. As a last resort, they 
got an address for one of White's sons, 
Dante, in LaGrange, Georgia, just south of 
Newnan. When they arrived, a young man 
answered the door and told them Dante was 
out, which is when McCloskey pulled out 
the photograph from the Olive Garden and 
said he was a friend of the Whites’. At that, 
Dante suddenly appeared from behind the 


"Didn't Helen used to wear underwear?" 


door and gave them his parents' new ad- 
dress, in McDonough, Georgia, which is 
where McCloskey finally got the notarized 
affidavit that would provide the spark for 
the evidentiary hearing, still more than two 
years away. "See, I told you Jim would find 
us,” Suzette said when she opened the door. 

Once McCloskey got White's affidavit, 
he filed a request for public records and 
received 600 pages of documents about the 
case from the Savannah police. In those 
records, McCloskey found something star- 
tling. On February 1, 1992, many hours 
after the murder, Officer Ben Herron of 
the Savannah police department had filed 
a report of an interview with a witness at 
a housing project just minutes from the 
crime scene. The witness claimed to have 
seen two white men in a car at one A.M. 
with semiautomatic weapons who said they 
were looking for black people to kill. By 
that time, the defendants were long in jail. 
But no one from the police or the prosecu- 
tion had bothered to give this report to the 
defense attorneys before the trial, so it re- 
mained buried in the file until McCloskey 
unburied it. In short, apparently other 
men were roaming Savannah's streets that 
night, and these men had ill intent. 


When McCloskey joined the Navy in 1964, 
he asked to be posted to Japan because, 
he says, he had once seen a short film on 
Tokyo nightlife and was intrigued. He 
spent 18 months as a communications of- 
ficer in Yokosuka and another year head- 
ing a transmitter detail in Totsuka-ku. 
But it wasn't so much the service that af- 
fected his life as the romance. At the PX 
in Yokosuka, he met Miyoshi (not her real 
name), a beautiful Japanese girl, and, he 
says, "something just clicked. I absolutely 
fell in love with her." Within a month he 
was living at her house off-base. She would 
bathe him, teach him sexual secrets, travel 
the country with him. For the first time he 
thought about marriage. Then she told 
him she was going to the United States for 
a 30-day tour. On the night she was leav- 
ing, she called him tearfully from the dock 
and asked that he come see her. He was 
on duty and couldn't. As the days passed, 
McCloskey tried to contact her in the 
States, to no avail. When the month was 
over and she hadn't returned, McCloskey, 
distraught, went to see her mother, who 
gave him shattering news: The girl had 
been betrothed to another seaman, who 
had left the service, and she had gone to 
America to marry him. "I was absolutely 
devastated, crushed," he says. "I've never 
been so bleak and dark in my life." Even 
now he bears a deep scar from the woman 
he calls the love of his life. 

Trying to heal, he took up with another 
Japanese woman, who followed him to 
"Totsuka, but there wasn't the same ardor, 
and he was growing bored with his sta- 
tion. So early in 1966 he volunteered to 
go to Vietnam. This time he abandoned 
his Japanese girlfriend, with terrible con- 
sequences that haunt him to this day. Just 
before he left, she told him she was preg- 
nant and in love and hoped to marry him, 


but McCloskey insisted she getan abortion, 
which she did, reluctantly. And then, bur- 
dened by guilt, he went to Vietnam. He 
never saw her again. 

Vietnam taught him two lessons. During 
training at Camp Pendleton in California 
before his tour of duty, he and 125 of his fel- 
low sailors engaged in an exercise in which 
they were held “prisoner” in black boxes by 
a group of Green Berets. Even though they 
knew they would be released in 24 hours, 
25 of them signed “confessions.” “It was,” 
says McCloskey, “my first lesson in how eas- 
ily the spirit could be broken,” which is why 
he doubts confessions now. When he land- 
ed in Vietnam in October 1967, he became 
an advisor to the South Vietnamese junk 
fleet. And there came the second lesson. It 
was while he was pa- 
trolling Vietnamese 
waters, McCloskey 
says, seeing our allies 
butcher Viet Cong 
captives and our 


because he had said the suspects looked like 
the murderers at a preliminary hearing. 
And he told of the anonymous telephone 
calls he received and the pressure from the 
black community, and of his fears that his 
daughters would be raped. And he told 
about how he had wanted redemption all 
these years, but the opportunity presented 
itself only when McCloskey appeared, and 
he called him “an angel from God.” When 
he left the stand, several of the family mem- 
bers hugged him. 

The rest of day one and all of day two 
were anticlimactic. An expert in “visual 
science” testified that at a distance of 72 
feet—the distance at which White had 
seen the car—with a weak streetlamp and 
with the perpetrators wearing headgear 


judge asked that the National Guard be 
put on alert should the Savannah Three be 
acquitted; and the policemen who first in- 
terrogated the suspects, each of whom told 
similar stories that could not have been 
rehearsed; and Detective Middleton, who 
had been a young black officer on his first 
homicide case, admitting that his notes on 
White's interview the night of the crime 
contained no positive IDs or any identify- 
ing characteristics; and Ben Herron, the 
policeman who had taken the statement 
about white men brandishing weapons 
and threatening to kill blacks after the 
suspects had been incarcerated. All in all, 
it was a good day for the prisoners and a 
good day for Jim McCloskey. 
е 

Back in 1967, out of 
the Navy and at loose 
ends, McCloskey en- 
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joined. The journey 
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he drove to Utah, 
to the last address 
he had for Miyoshi, 
only to learn that 
her husband had 
reenlisted and they 
were now living in 
Yokohama. Back in 
Japan, working as a 
business consultant, 
McCloskey phoned 


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her. They met in 
Tokyo and rekin- 
dled their romance 
over the following 
18 months. But she 
had a young son by 
this time, and when 
McCloskey urged 
her to get a divorce 


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ers themselves, in 
white prison jumpsuits and shackles, car- 
rying plastic bags with sandwiches, looking 
older, heavier, more somber and, in Jones's 
case, grayer than they had been. The main 
event of that first session was the testimony 
of James White, who was wheeled to the 
stand wearing a black polo shirt with 
a gold squiggle over the right breast, a 
purple tie and white loafers. He is a huge 
man, bullnecked, with snaggle teeth and 
a deep, gravelly voice like a rhythm-and- 
blues singer, which is what he was before 
he found religion. And now, publicly, he 
admitted, “I lied about certain things,” but 
insisted that before the trial he had told the 
police and the prosecutors his misgivings 
about identifying the men. They insisted, 
he claimed, threatening him with perjury 


that obscured their faces and with only 
a few seconds before they sped away, it 
would have been “humanly impossible” 
for White to have seen the murderers. 
A psychologist from Emory University 
added that “post-event factors,” including 
television coverage, might have affected 
White's identification and that White's 
identification had mysteriously become 
more precise over time, from a possibility to 
a certainty. It was, he said, “highly unlikely 
he [White] could make a satisfactory 
identification.” Thus was James White's 
testimony, on which the entire conviction 
hung, not only recanted but impugned. 
Then came the defense attorneys from 
the first trial, who discussed the racial cli- 
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1 
I and marry him, she 
said she couldn't. “It 
1 was Madame Butterfly 
in reverse” is how 
| McCloskey describes 
ı it. Shattered once, he 
was shattered again. 
“That was structural 
+ damage," he says. It 
made it impossible for him to trust women, 
and he admits he fell into a life of debauch- 
ery that continued for decades. 

But even though he was emotionally rav- 
aged, he stayed in Japan for the next five 
years, advising American companies. He 
learned yet another lesson that would come 
in handy when he was working to free 
prisoners: "Take the long-term view. The 
Japanese have almost unlimited patience." 
When the consultancy for which he worked 
was sold to a conglomerate, McCloskey de- 
cided it was time to leave. To the Japanese, 
he knew, he would always be a gaijin—an 
outsider—and he missed America. So back 
he went to Philadelphia, living with his 
divorced brother and hunting for a job. 

He got one with another consulting firm 


161 


PLAYBOY 


called the Hay Group, again largely advis- 
ing American businesses wanting to make 
inroads in Japan, and he was successful. 
But he knew this was not the life he had 
promised himself when he made his gradu- 
ation resolution at Bucknell. He says he felt 
hollow inside. He even started to attend 
church for the first time since childhood, 
looking for an answer to his malaise. And 
he kept being reminded of a Japanese ad- 
age: The nail that sticks out gets hammered 
down. McCloskey wanted to be that nail. 

He was a lost man, a broken man. Noth- 
ing fulfilled him. Though he mentioned it 
to no one, he began reading Scripture, and 
one Saturday night he turned randomly to 
a page in the Bible and found Jesus's last 
words to Peter: “When you were young, 
you walked where you would. When you 
are older, another will take you, perhaps 
where you don't want to go.” It came as a 
revelation. Knowing he was going where 
he didn't want to go, he walked into the 
office on Monday morning and resigned. 
His boss convinced him to stay another 
year to finish what he had started, but at 37 
McCloskey felt he had finally found him- 
self. More startling, he decided to enroll in 
the Princeton Theological Seminary and 
become a Presbyterian minister. 

It wasn't your typical religious 
conversion. He threw a going-away party 
for himself and hired two strippers, and 
there was always a bottle of Jack Daniel's 
on his dormitory windowsill. And he wasn't 
your typical seminarian. In the second year, 
each student had to choose fieldwork, and 
McCloskey, trying to be that nail, decided 
against a hospital or a church, which is 
where most students wound up. He chose 
Trenton State Prison and not only Trenton 
State but its “Vroom” wing, where the 
behavior problems were housed. It was 
ugly—his introduction was a prisoner who 
screamed invectives at him—but he felt 
exhilarated. On the first day he entered the 
tier, in the fall of 1980, a junkie and lifer 
named Jorge De Los Santos, with long hair 
and wearing only boxer shorts, approached 
him and professed his innocence of the 
murder he was convicted of. Nicknamed 
Chiefie because he had been a leader in the 
Newark projects where he'd lived, De Los 
Santos told McCloskey that he had been 
framed by a jailhouse snitch named Richard 
Delli Santi, who testified that De Los Santos 
had confessed in jail. Chiefie begged 
McCloskey to look into his case. “Are you 
telling me this guy lied?” McCloskey asked 
naively. “That's exactly what I'm fucking 
telling you," Chiefie answered. 

McCloskey took Chiefie's trial transcript 
to a friend's house during Thanksgiving 
and spent the holiday reading all 2,000 
pages of it. He concluded that not only was 
Chiefie framed but that he, McCloskey, was 
going to take a year's leave from the semi- 
nary to prove it. He called it a Christmas 
gift to Chiefie, but he knew it was really a 
gift to himself. For the first time in his life, 
he said, he had a real sense of mission. 

So Jim McCloskey sold his car and 
his house and moved into a room in the 
Princeton home of an octogenarian widow 


162 named Mrs. Yeatman, and with money he 


had saved from Hay, he hired an investigator 
(from the Yellow Pages) and a lawyer named 
Paul Casteleiro (who is still with Centurion 
33 years later), but he decided to take on the 
informant, Delli Santi, himself. He quickly 
discovered that Delli Santi was a professional 
in relaying alleged jailhouse confessions. He 
had even ratted out his own cousin. (Coinci- 
dentally, McCloskey's father had been falsely 
accused of demanding bribes from subcon- 
tractors of McCloskey Construction, and 
he was a living ghost until he was cleared.) 
It was through Delli Santi's aunt that 
McCloskey tracked him down and got him 
to admit he had lied about Chiefie and had 
lied at the trial when he said he hadn't testi- 
fied in any other case. McCloskey also found 
out the prosecution knew he had lied. On 
that basis, Chiefie received an evidentiary 
hearing in March 1983 and was released that 
July. McCloskey took Chiefie, who had been 
in prison eight years, out for a banana split 
and then returned alone to Mrs. Yeatman's 
for a bourbon, "feeling pretty good." 


Day three of the evidentiary hearing con- 
sisted largely of witnesses refuting the tes- 
timony of Sylvia Wallace, who had claimed 


It wasn't your typical religious 
conversion. McCloskey threw 
a going-away party for himself 
and hired two strippers, and 
there was always a bottle of 
Jack Daniel's. 


Mark Jones had told her on the morning of 
January 31 that he was going to kill a black 
man. (It turned out Jones wasn't even on 
the base January 31.) Two career Army men 
testified that Wallace had given them con- 
flicting accounts of Jones's statement, and 
a longtime soldier and Hinesville police- 
man testified that Wallace had dissembled 
when she said she had approached him 
to tell him about Jones's intent. "She lied 
completely about everything," he said. Yet 
another witness, an Army friend of Jones's, 
said the prosecution had pressured him to 
say Jones was a racist even though Jones 
had never made a racist statement to him. 
If Jones had, the friend said, he would 
have reported him to his superiors. 


After a lifetime of doubt and dissatisfaction, 
McCloskey said, it all came together for him 
in 1983. He had graduated from Princeton 
Theological Seminary, Chiefie had been 
freed, and through Chiefie he had met two 
other lifers who professed their innocence 
and asked for his help. And then he had a 
dream. He was on a riverbank in Vietnam, 
watching a boat crowded with people, and 
the boat began to sink. Out of the blue, a 


helicopter arrived and rescued the pas- 
sengers. McCloskey took it as an omen: He 
was ordained to rescue others. 

He took on the cases of Chiefie's two 
lifers and the case of a third prisoner— 
all of whom were eventually freed. He 
had no money but got free housing 
from Mrs. Yeatman—he laughs and says 
he's the only person who chose to live in 
Princeton because it was halfway between 
Trenton State Prison and Rahway State 
Prison—and he was getting donations 
from his church and from old high school 
and college friends. He said he was 
driving to a law firm to set up a nonprofit 
organization to raise money for the cause 
when the name came to him. He would 
call his group Centurion after the Roman 
soldier who declared at the foot of Jesus's 
cross, “Surely this one is innocent.” 

For the next five years McCloskey made 
itup as he went along. He drove a 1975 VW 
Rabbit and earned between $6,000 and 
$7,000 a year. In fact, he was Centurion's 
only employee. But the prisoner releases 
were gaining Centurion press attention, 
and letters from convicts began to pour 
in. There was one letter, not from a pris- 
oner but from a woman who had recently 
moved from California to Connecticut; 
she had read about Centurion and wanted 
to help. Her name was Kate Germond, 
and she wound up volunteering to sit in 
McCloskey's room in Mrs. Yeatman's house 
and triage the letters he got. That was in 
1986. Twenty-seven years later she is still 
at Centurion, now as McCloskey's partner, 
and it is she as much as anyone who brings 
the cases to McCloskey's attention as well as 
taking on cases of her own. Essentially, they 
split the primary workload. 

Centurion has come a long way since 
Chiefie. These days there is a new office 
in Princeton, a staff of eight and an annual 
budget of $1.25 million for the 19 active 
cases that CM is investigating. A lot of that 
money is raised by a onetime Wall Street. 
wunderkind named Jay Regan, who had 
his own scrape with a wrongful conviction. 
In 1989 Regan, the managing partner of 
a hedge fund named Princeton/Newport 
Partners, was tried for stock fraud by then 
U.S. attorney Rudy Giuliani, convicted and 
sentenced to six months in prison. Three 
years later, the conviction was overturned, 
and Regan, with firsthand experience of 
how the system can malfunction, sought 
out McCloskey to help CM raise funds by 
introducing him to Wall Street titans. One 
of them, Edward Stern, a real estate mag- 
nate whose family had owned the Hartz 
Mountain pet company, has put up nearly 
all the money for the Savannah Three 
case—the investigation and legal proceed- 
ings of which have cost $363,000. 

There was a time when CM might not 
have survived McCloskey. After a bout 
with prostate cancer in 2008 (“It slowed 
me down for two weeks or so," he says) 
and a heart attack in 2012, McCloskey has 
drawn up a succession plan, though he 
doesn't contemplate stepping down un- 
til he is at least 75. CM has just hired a 
new investigator, as well as a development 
director, Nick O'Connell, who is the son 


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of recent CM exoneree Frank O'Connell. 
One could say things have never looked so 
rosy—save for one thing. 


On the last day of the evidentiary hearing, 
David Lock took the stand. Lock had been 
the prosecutor of the Savannah Three case, 
and he was clearly invested in their guilt. Lock 
looked like a pompous Southern lawyer: the 
beige seersucker suit, the jowls and potbelly, 
the red Vandyke and the glasses. He sound- 
ed like one too, with a basso voice basted in a 
deep Southern accent. But as Centurion at- 
torney Peter Camiel began his examination, 
Lock quickly began to wilt, smiling uncom- 
fortably, fidgeting, even at one point twirling 
in his chair so his back was to the observers. 
Lock insisted he had never pressured White, 
that White had told him he could identify the 
defendants as the murderers, though that ID 
was not essential to his case, that the Herron 
memo was “extraneous” to the case and that 
the reason Ken Gardiner's car contained vir- 
tually no gunshot residue was because the 
weapons were fired out the window. But he 
also admitted there was no forensic evidence 
and that he might have overplayed the Dun- 
geons & Dragons motive, which left no motive 
whatsoever. By the time Lock's testimony 
ended, at 11:52 that morning, Centurion was 
pretty sure it had proven its case. 

That didn't answer the question of who 
killed Stanley Jackson that January night 
in 1992. When it investigates, Centurion al- 
ways tries to find the actual perpetrators, 
and in 12 of its 51 cases it has. The Savan- 
nah Three case, however, was tough, in part 
because several people had motives. By one 
account, Jackson's stepson had threatened to 
kill Jackson after he'd beaten the boy's moth- 
er shortly before he was shot. And there was 
Jackson's cocaine habit. McCloskey speculat- 
ed that Jackson might have been killed by the 
Jivens gang for welshing on drug payments, 
so he wrote to Sammy Lee Gadson, a Jivens 
enforcer who was serving a life sentence for 
murder in a federal medical facility in Spring- 
field, Missouri. Gadson wrote back that the 
three were innocent, adding, “Everybody 
knows who did kill Stanley Jackson,” but he 
refused to reveal the information for fear of 
retaliation. Gadson's younger brother, who 


was acquitted of murder, told McCloskey the 
same thing: “Those boys are innocent.” 


The reason the Centurion story doesn't 
have as happy an ending as one might 
imagine is Jim McCloskey himself. He is 
finally fulfilled, a broken man made whole. 
The abortion so many years ago still plagues 
him, as does another by a married woman 
with whom he'd had an affair, as well as his 
wayward behavior toward women and the 
years he wasted following the corporate 
path. Despite his many friends, he is lonely, 
and he knows he will never have a wife or 
family. He has persistent dream that seems 
to summarize his situation: "I'm in a social 
setting with my friends, and nobody wants 
to talk to me. I'm on the outside...and when 
Igo to talk to them, they disperse." 

And something else troubles 
McCloskey—something that emanates from 
the very darkness of the human soul. Jim 
McCloskey's faith is shaken, which may 
just be an occupational hazard of living in 
a world of injustice. For four years he had 
investigated the conviction of a Virginia 
rapist named Roger Coleman and had 
concluded that Coleman hadn't committed 
the crime. Coleman's last words, scribbled 
to McCloskey on the night of his execu- 
tion, were that he was innocent. McCloskey 
promised him he would continue to try 
to prove that. Ten years passed, during 
which time DNA testing had improved, and 
McCloskey got the state of Virginia to agree 
to a post-execution DNA test—the first in 
the country. He was manning the phone in 
November 2005 when the result came in: 
Coleman was guilty. McCloskey calmly met 
the press and admitted he had been wrong. 

But it isn't Roger Coleman's lie that tests 
Jim McCloskey's faith. Coleman aside, 
Centurion's record for selecting the inno- 
cent is exceptional. In addition, only five of 
the 51 prisoners it has freed have returned 
to jail, none of them for a capital offense. 
(Alas, Chiefie was one of the recidivists; he 
went to jail for striking his wife and was 
later shot to death in a vacant lot in the 
Bronx.) What tests him is human nature— 
the willingness of policemen and prosecu- 
tors to frame men for so little gain against 


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what the men have to lose—and what tests 
him is a God who would let these men 
languish in prison for crimes they did not 
commit. “My clarity in belief has failed to 
a certain extent,” he says. “Does God care 
what happens in this world? And does God 
have influence on what happens, or is it 
just random?” And wondering, he cites the 
biblical dictum that the sun shines on both 
the good and the evil, and the rain comes 
down on both the just and unjust. 

Which is all the more reason Centurion 
is necessary. The Savannah Three won't 
know their fate for months, until the judge 
renders her verdict and then, if she does 
overturn their conviction, until the Georgia 
Supreme Court decides whether to uphold 
her decision. Meanwhile, McCloskey is 
off to Montgomery, Alabama, where he 
is testifying before a parole board in the 
case of Billy Ray Davis, who has spent 29 
years behind bars even though the police 
investigator for the case told McCloskey 
the evidence pointed to another man. The 
parole board waiting room is glum. The 
families, mostly black and poor, sit in T-shirts 
and polos, grim-faced and silent, waiting 
for their 10- or 15-minute shift to make 
their case. McCloskey testifies about Davis's 
upstandingness—like most Centurion 
clients he has a clean prison record—but 
the board quickly denies him parole, and 
McCloskey, his faith tested yet again, leaves 
for another investigation. Davis will have to 
wait another four years for a hearing. 

Despite the disappointment, McCloskey 
will trudge on. "It's so hard to believe 
there's still somebody out there who's so in- 
credibly honest and dedicated," says Mark 
Jones's mother. "How does he not get dis- 
couraged?" she wonders, not knowing he 
has. But then she answers her own ques- 
tion. "He has an effect on people," she says. 
"I don't know that it makes them better or 
makes them rethink their lives or whatever. 
He's had an effect on me." That may be it. 
In the end, Jim McCloskey, who once was 
lost and who even now questions his faith, 
has a strange power to bring redemption 
to a world desperately in need of it. 

So he endures. 


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PLAYBOY 


RAY KELLY 


(continued from page 66) 
tabs on mosques. What's the deal with 
these so-called mosque crawlers? 

KELLY: I never heard that expression. 
PLAYBOY: You've never heard it? 

KELLY: Nobody ever used it inside the 
police department. Those AP writers 
received a lot of leaks from disgruntled 
people in the NYPD who had retired or 
didn't get promoted. The overarching 
sin we're guilty of is having the nerve to 
move into the counterterrorism area that 
the federal government wanted to have a 
monopoly on, irrespective of the fact that 
we had almost 3,000 people killed here, 
that we've had 16 plots against us. Our 
temerity in trying to better protect New 
Yorkers was greatly resisted by some in 
the federal government. 

PLAYBOY: Do you see anything wrong with 
undercover agents infiltrating religious 
houses of worship? 

KELLY: We don't investigate mosques, but we 
do follow leads into the mosques. We can't 
have sanctuaries. We can't say that because 
you are Muslim or Catholic or Buddhist or 
Jewish you have a sanctuary from being 
investigated. The AP said we categorized 
mosques as terrorist enterprises. That is 
simply not the case. We don't investigate 
buildings. We investigate people. 
PLAYBOY: You understand why a law- 
abiding Muslim praying in a mosque 
would be offended by the presence of un- 
dercover agents. 

KELLY: Yes, we understand that, sure. We 
just met with our Muslim advisory commit- 
tee and went through a lot of these issues. 
But this is the world in which we live. We 
are at risk from terrorism. We have to do 
what we reasonably can to protect the city, 
and we cannot rely on the federal govern- 
ment alone to protect us. 

PLAYBOY: With all this doom and gloom, 
when you're stressed out or feeling down, 
what do you do? 

KELLY: I make martinis. [/aughs] No, I ex- 
ercise, lift weights, do cardio. That helps. 
PLAYBOY: The worse the news, the more 
weights on the bar? 

KELLY: Right. More pain, more pain. 
PLAYBOY: Are you religious at all? 

KELLY: Moderately. 

PLAYBOY: So you don't pray or—— 

KELLY: Only if my life is on the line. There 
are no atheists in a foxhole, you know. 
PLAYBOY: Other decompression techniques? 
KELLY: I read a lot, mostly nonfiction po- 
litical books. Just finished This Town, about 
Washington, and Colin Powell's Jt Worked 
for Me. I watch a limited amount of TV— 
The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, PBS 
NewsHour. And ГЇЇ watch Homeland. 
PLAYBOY: What about the perks of being 
police commissioner, like having your own 
helicopter? 

KELLY: No. We have helicopters here, but 
they're not my own, and I use them infre- 
quently. If there’s an emergency and I’m 
out of the city, I have to get back quickly 
via helicopter, but it doesn’t happen much. 
PLAYBOY: So what are the perks? 


166 KELLY: You're invited to certain social events 


and you represent the city. That comes 
with the territory. 

PLAYBOY: Or just the fun of going to J. Lo's 
birthday party. 

KELLY: If you're invited. I never invite 
myself, never. 

PLAYBOY: Is there anyone you haven't met 
but would like to? 

KELLY: Lady Gaga. No, I'm kidding. Nelson 
Mandela. He was in New York in 1990. I 
was supposed to meet him at Gracie Man- 
sion but just missed him. It was a disap- 
pointment. I was intrigued by someone 
who had spent 27 years in jail, then came 
back to lead a country. And with all that ad- 
versity, he was not bitter. 

PLAYBOY: Others who impressed you? 
KELLY: Well, I met Pope Benedict at a special 
meeting here at the NYPD. It wasn't that we 
had an in-depth conversation, but there's 
just an aura about him that was impressive. 
I felt I was in the presence ofa superperson. 
I've always been impressed with President 
Clinton—one of the smartest people I ever 
met and worked with. He has the ability to 
break down the most complex issues into 
digestible concepts. Hillary Clinton as well. 
She can speak on virtually any subject. 
PLAYBOY: Do you think she would make a 
good president? 

KELLY: I think she'd make a good anything. 
PLAYBOY: What about Bush 43? 

KELLY: He was always friendly and funny. 
I was once in a car with him here in New 
York, and he said, "Kelly, you ever notice 
when I'm driving down the block, ev- 
erybody's giving me the finger?" I said, 
"They're just saying you're number one, 
Mr. President." 

PLAYBOY: What are your thoughts about 
Mayor Bloomberg? 

KELLY: A very intelligent person, and funny. 
PLAYBOY: Some might view him as a re- 
mote, "business" kind of person, not sens- 
ing his warmth or humor. 

KELLY: Oh, he has tremendous compas- 
sion. I've gone with him to hospitals many 
times to visit police officers who have been 
wounded, or to visit with the families of 
officers who have been killed. I see a very 
sensitive and warm person, very touched 
in those situations. 

PLAYBOY: What's your view on his ban of 
big-gulp sodas? 

KELLY: Look, he's trying to save lives. He's 
trying to fight obesity. He's very concerned 
about that, and it's in keeping with his ef- 
forts to improve people's quality of life. 
PLAYBOY: You can't drink the big-slurp so- 
das if you're going to try to fit into your suit 
from five years ago, right? 

KELLY: Right, exactly. 

PLAYBOY: What's the deal with your 
custom-made suits and Charvet ties? 
KELLY: I think it's only natural to want to look 
good. I enjoy good clothes, so 18 years ago 
I moved to having custom-made suits. They 
last longer. They fit you better. In my opinion, 
I think men don't spend enough on clothes. 
PLAYBOY: How much does one of those 
suits cost? 

KELLY: It changes. They keep going up. 
PLAYBOY: Does that look enhance your po- 
sition of authority? 

KELLY: I've never really thought of it that 


way, but it probably does. If you look good 
you can convey a feeling of more authority. 
PLAYBOY: Growing up, did you ever dream 
you'd be in this position of power, with 
access to the president, attending movie- 
star parties? 

KELLY: No. I came from modest surroundings. 
We weren't poor, but we didn't have 
anything in excess. As a milkman, my 
father used a horse and a wagon. After milk 
regulations changed and milk was sold in 
stores, he lost his job. During the war, he 
found work in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. 
Then his older brother got him a job in 
the Internal Revenue Service. My mother 
started working part-time in Macy's as a 
dressing-room checker when I was six. 
I stayed with a woman in the building 
after I came home from school. I was the 
youngest of five. 

PLAYBOY: Ah, the baby. 

KELLY: [Laughs] Yes. The nicest and the 
best: 
PLAYBOY: The babies get special treatment. 
KELLY: Yes. My siblings all took care of me, 
and I shared a room with my older broth- 
ers and never had my own room until I was 
19 or 20. 

PLAYBOY: Any fighting in the house? 

KELLY: Oh, sure. There's always squabbling 
when you have five kids, but there was a 
14-year gap between me and my oldest 
brother. As I was becoming aware of the 
world, all three brothers went into the Ma- 
rine Corps, one after the other. 

PLAYBOY: Did you believe you'd wind up a 
marine as well? 

KELLY: Yes, I knew it. I used to go through 
all their gear and read the manuals. Part of 
it was playing marine as a boy, which was 
much more prevalent than it is now. 
PLAYBOY: In high school were you popular 
with girls? 

KELLY: There were no girls! I went to a 
Catholic boys school. I think I probably de- 
veloped late as far as that was concerned. 
PLAYBOY: At what age did you go on your 
first date? 

KELLY: Oh my God, a "date" date? Maybe 16. 
PLAYBOY: And then Veronica came along. 
KELLY: Veronica and I have known each 
other since she was a little kid and I was 
three years older. We'd see each other on 
the beach. It wasn't until I was 19 that I 
asked her to go out. Three years later we 
married, when she was 19 and I was 22. 
We've been together ever since—and we 
still like each other a lot. 

PLAYBOY: In this age of throwaway 
marriages, what has kept you together for 
50 years? 

KELLY: We're respectful, and we don't 
take each other for granted. When I see 
Veronica I'm excited to spend time with 
her. When we drive in the car, we don't 
have the radio on. When we have dinner, 
we don't watch TV. We talk. She's funny, 
smart and has a lot of insight. She could 
be the CEO of any Fortune 500 company. 
PLAYBOY: Over 50 years, what would you 
say was the biggest challenge you faced as 
a couple? 

KELLY: One bathroom in a studio apart- 
ment. [laughs] Now with two bathrooms, it's 
all peace and tranquility. I'm only kidding. 


PLAYBOY: During your early years together, 
was seeing an ad for the police-cadet pro- 
gram just serendipity? 

KELLY: Well, maybe it was. I wasn't too excit- 
ed about being a stock boy at Macy's. Law 
enforcement seemed fun and exciting, so I 
signed up. It was part-time work at nights, 
filing forms and answering nonemergency 
calls on the switchboard. 

PLAYBOY: And right after college gradua- 
tion and police training—— 

KELLY: I left for Vietnam. Veronica was preg- 
nant with our eldest, Jimmy. The day he was 
born I got an emergency notice to pick up 
a message from the Red Cross at battalion 
headquarters. You got that kind of notice 
only if somebody died. I assumed the worst. 
But the letter told me we'd had a baby boy. 
I didn't see my son until he was five months 
old, which meant Veronica was on her own. 
PLAYBOY: Stressful. 

KELLY: Yes, and obviously I was in active 
combat. 

PLAYBOY: When you saw some of your fel- 
low marines killed, how did it affect you? 
KELLY: It was not as traumatic or as jolting 
as I thought it would be. It was almost like 
"that's what's supposed to happen here." I 
think certain life experiences sort of tough- 
en you up. 

PLAYBOY: Or crush you. 

KELLY: Or crush you, yes. Or make you 
stronger. Virtually everything I learned 
about leadership traits and core values, I 
learned in the Marine Corps. To this day, I 
keep a list of the traits in a little black book, 
14 of them, including integrity, justice, 
bearing, enthusiasm, endurance—all indi- 
cators you aspire to when you're a leader. 
PLAYBOY: As a dad, what was the most chal- 
lenging thing you faced? 

KELLY: I remember my son Greg had pneu- 
monia when he was just four. I still have a 
clear picture of him in the hospital. It was 
around the time my mother passed away 
suddenly from a stroke. It was the first 
death in the family and very traumatic. It 
all seemed to come down on us. I remem- 
ber feeling quite burdened at that time. 
PLAYBOY: She never lived to see you be- 
come police commissioner. Would you say 
it's only with the death of a parent that you 
feel completely—— 

KELLY: Alone? 

PLAYBOY: Is that what it is? Some say that 
when you have a mother or a father to talk 
to, you're always their child. But without 
them, you're fully grown up. 

KELLY: You're always trying to impress your 
parents regardless of how old you are. And 
when they're gone, there's nobody to im- 
press. But I think they'd be proud. My fa- 
ther has been gone for 30 years, and by the 
time he passed away, I was a lawyer. I hope 
he would be impressed. 

PLAYBOY: With all your accomplishments, 
and with a new mayor about to be inaugu- 
rated, what are you going to do next? 
KELLY: Well, I've told a lot of people I want 
to be a greeter at Walmart. 

PLAYBOY: What are your qualifications? 
KELLY: [Laughs] I like people. 

PLAYBOY: You could retire. 

KELLY: Oh no, I'm too active for that. I don't 
ever see myself retiring. Not now, certainly. 


PLAYBOY: But after 12 years, don't you 
feel depleted? 

KELLY: No. I feel absolutely energized, not 
tired at all. I haven't had a vacation in 12 
years. І can lift as much weight as I lifted 20 
years ago. I don't feel the pressure. 
PLAYBOY: With all that energy, could you 
see yourself accepting an appointment as 
police commissioner again in January? 
KELLY: I would find it unlikely. 

PLAYBOY: You've had enough? 

KELLY: I wouldn't put it that way. I've been 
the longest-serving police commissioner in 
the history of the department, but it's time 
in my life to move on. I'm ready for new 
adventures, new challenges. 

PLAYBOY: Like climbing a mountain or 
competing on Dancing With the Stars? 
KELLY: [Laughs] Yeah, that kind of stuff. 
PLAYBOY: How about becoming homeland 
security secretary? 

KELLY: [Laughs] Would 1 have to move? 
PLAYBOY: Maybe. Hours after homeland 
security secretary Janet Napolitano an- 
nounced her resignation, Senator Charles 
Schumer was pushing for you to replace 
her. Obama said you are “very well quali- 
fied.” Do you want that job? 

KELLY: I'm obviously flattered by what the 
president and Senator Schumer said. 1 ap- 
preciate that. 

PLAYBOY: Are you more or less optimistic, 
cynical, philosophical or just more tired? 
KELLY: No, I'm not tired. And I think I'm 
generally optimistic. 

PLAYBOY: What's your view on mortality? 
KELLY: It's going to happen. 

PLAYBOY: You don't think about it much? 
KELLY: No. I don't at all. It's true that some 


маске ^ 


people really dwell on it. I don't know if it's 
a good or bad thing to think about it, but 
I really don't. 

PLAYBOY: So what drives you? 

KELLY: Well, I think it's been this job. Be- 
ing in this administration, we have a lot 
of things to be proud of. I think it's fair to 
say the police department has saved a lot 
of lives. That's been our overarching goal. 
PLAYBOY: As your 12 years as commissioner 
come to an end, you really have no regrets? 
KELLY: Not really. I probably should think 
about it, but I really haven't. I try to sit 
back and make a determination of what 
is the right thing to do—not the easiest or 
most convenient thing. 

PLAYBOY: Once you make up your mind, 
you stick with it. 

KELLY: Yes, I do. 

PLAYBOY: Even if you get criticized. 

KELLY: Oh yes. And in this job you get criti- 
cized for virtually everything you do or 
don't do. 

PLAYBOY: Do you worry the controversy 
about stop-and-frisk might mar your legacy? 
KELLY: No, I never think of the word lega- 
cy. It doesn't mean anything. You do the 
right thing, in my judgment, and things 
will work out. That's what drives me. I'm 
not looking for legacy or history books or 
whatever. I know what we've done here 
has saved a significant number of lives. 
The burden is not on me. It's on the poli- 
ticians who made the decisions to limit 
what we're doing. They're the ones who 
are going to pay a price, in my judgment, 
if crime significantly increases. 


Tis the season to be jolly. So Im doubling your prescription for 
antidepressants.” 


167 


168 


6 SOLDIERS 


(continued from page 108) 
veteran. How did she do that? The airman 
explained that she was riding shotgun on a 
truck transporting nasty chemicals into the 
war zone when a mortar hit the truck, and 
she was so hideously disfigured that a mere 
glimpse of her can be lethal. She wears 
a mask not to have the world drop dead 
around her, he said, but the word is out 
and people are afraid of getting zapped by 
an accidental glimpse, so they steer clear 
and keep their heads down. She leads a 
lonely life, as you can see, though they say 
there's some blind guy who hangs out with 
her. We can use her, said the old veteran, 
and he got his apparatus into motion and 
clattered over to her table. 

You're beautiful, baby, the old soldier 
said. Somebody should paint your pic- 
ture. Somebody already has, she said. A 


few centuries ago. He nodded down at the 
steel-toothed mauler, lying stone dead at 
her feet, his cloudy eyes popping in final 
terror, and he told her that was pretty im- 
pressive. Was she still in uniform? Nah, 
I'm an embarrassment to them. I suppose 
you're at least drawing compensation, he 
said, and she said she was, but it wasn't 
half enough for what they did to her. Ever 
feel like getting some of your own back? 
All the time, she said with that strange 
sweet smile. So he proposed that she team 
up with him and the guy he was drink- 
ing with, reciting the ex-airman's peculiar 
abilities and his own. Together, he said, 
they could make something happen. She 
was interested and suggested they discuss 
it with her partner, a punitively demobbed 
ex-ranger, now self-employed as a burglar 
and safecracker, a guy with permanent 
neon-green night vision but otherwise 
blind. By daylight, he can't find his hand 


"See, Miss Cullen? That's what Santa Claus brings 
naughty little girls." 


in front of his face, she said, but in the 
dark he can see into things and through 
them, has the nose ofa beagle and the ears 
of a bat, and can open anything. 

So the masked woman took them to 
meet the former ranger, whom they found 
in a blacked-out room, feeding an armless 
man. The light from the doorway, which 
was blinding the blind man (he cursed 
them and they returned his curses in a 
friendly manner), revealed that his pal, 
dressed in miscellaneous scraps of field 
gear, had one arm missing altogether, the 
other replaced by a high-powered assault 
rifle, with a flaking hand that might once 
have been his own wired up to the trig- 
ger. He explained that his arm was ruined 
while trying to defuse a boobied turkey in 
the officers' mess, where he'd been sent 
on latrine-cleaning duty for disciplinary 
reasons, and because there was a short- 
age of disposable marksmen at the front, 
whichever front, the medics were ordered 
to reconstruct it this way and send him 
back into action. You're a marksman, the 
old soldier said, why the hell were you de- 
fusing a bomb? They had a problem and I 
volunteered, the marksman said. Couldn't 
help myself. Soft spot in the will. It's the 
secret they hold over us. In the end we're 
a bunch of comedians, playing to an au- 
dience that's killing us and laughing their 
asses off about it. Yeah, I know, said the old 
soldier. I used to think of myself as a pa- 
triot. Not just a bad idea, a dead one. Like 
countries. What was worse, the marksman 
said, the goddamned sawbones was ripped 
that night on meth-laced martinis and 
took the good arm off, so after he gave me 
this one, the other had to come off too. His 
last fucking mistake, which is why I'm on 
the run. But no big deal, later I can get 
me one of those souped-up bionic gizmos 
you're wearing, and meanwhile this one is 
a cooler arm than either of the ones I had 
before. The rifle uses target-seeking bul- 
lets that can change direction to hit things 
in motion, and the ammo's not only stored 
in my armpit, it's produced there, so un- 
less things get really hairy, I can bang away 
all day. Amazing, said the old veteran, but 
does it really work? Sometimes, the guy 
said, and he fired off a shot over his shoul- 
der through the window into the dark and 
a screeching tomcat somewhere stopped 
screeching. You shouldn'ta done that, the 
blind ranger said. I like cats. He'll be all 
right, said the marksman. He had his tail 
up and I just stoppered his asshole. 

The old veteran, stroking his jaw with 
his mechanical digits, nodded thought- 
fully. Together, the five of us have got all 
we need to take on the world and its own- 
ers, he said, except that we don't know ex- 
actly what it looks like from the top down. 
To make the right moves, we need some- 
body with the big picture. Back when I 
had my own face, the masked woman said, 
I knew a guy in special ops who'd be just 
the ticket, but he's no longer in circulation. 
They called him the wizard. He's an ex- 
codebreaker whose brains got shot up and 
had to be reconstructed from an old video 
game, wired up inside a skull that's mostly 
stainless steel. When he came on to me with 


his shiny head, I took a lot of heavy fon- 
dling, some of it pretty public and all of it 
inch-by-inch thorough. I thought he must 
be crazy about me and couldn't restrain 
himself, but he was only taking measure- 
ments. Later he told me we'd made love 
hundreds of time, but 1 don't remember 
one, though maybe 1 should because he 
has a way of projecting his games out into 
the world the rest of us live in, or think we 
do. I'm not sure, for example, he didn't 
grow tired of his virtual me and send that 
mortar into the truck himself as a gambit 
in his world that spilled into mine. He got 
famous years back for inventing drone 
warfare and killer robots. Everybody does 
it now, but simple robotics is kids’ play for 
the wizard. He can dream up full-scale 
intercontinental conflicts that don't ex- 
ist and never existed, and then suddenly 
they do. A bi-hacker, you might say. Very 
useful for the owners of the world, the 
old veteran remarked. Yeah, but he's 
an unreliable ally. He doesn't believe in 
what we call the real world and he's not 
on anybody's side. It's the game itself he 
lives for and he's happy playing solitaire 
against himself. He needs a power source 
for his brainpan, and I hear they have 
him plugged in in some dark hidden 
place where they can vet his moves before 
releasing them into their own games, and 
no one knows where that place is. I can 
find him, said the blind man. 

Through their multiple networks of 
connections and the ranger's burglaries, 
hacks and phone taps, they learned that 
the wizard was being kept in a padded, 
fully equipped, steel-walled cell at a mili- 
tary base on top of an insurmountable 
mountain, the only access being a closely 
guarded funicular up the one side that 
wasn't a straight drop. No problem, said 
the airman, I'll fly the ranger up under 
the cliff face on the back side. The marks- 
man said he could track their coordinates 
and cover them from below. The ranger 
probably nodded, but by then they were 
in the dark again and he was the only 
one seeing anything. 

So they went there the next night and 
the airman took off his pants, pulled on 
heavy fireproof chaps to protect his thighs 
and privates from the blastoff, the blind 
guy climbed aboard, and up they shot. 
They first found and knocked out the gen- 
erator to create a blackout, giving the rang- 
er with night vision a momentary edge. 
They got set upon by guards and dogs, 
but, though they couldn't hear the shots, 
their attackers dropped with little grunts, 
groans and whimpers, even those hiding 
behind buildings. In the blacked-out ante- 
room outside the wizard's cell, there was 
an old sergeant standing guard whom the 
ranger once knew as a gutsy old boozer 
with more wounds than body parts, and 
he convinced him with the aid of his little 
fold-up Sten to open the cell in exchange 
for his life, which favor he was happy to 
provide for old times’ sake. The wizard 
was reluctant to give up his playroom and 
toy box and they had no time to argue, so 
they unplugged him, threw him over their 
shoulders and jetted out of there. 


Back at the blind ranger's quarters, they 
plugged the wizard in and the old soldier 
briefed him on the game they wanted to 
play, omitting the revenge motive, though 
the fellow figured it out pretty quickly 
and factored it in. He told them they 
should start with the president. Whoa, 
sounds like fun, the old soldier said, but 
ain't that guy just a flunky? It's the thugs 
behind him we're after. I know that, the 
wizard said, but we don't have much time 
and it's strategically smart openers. Your 
targets are mostly faceless and invisible, 
but they not only own all the world's arms 
and armies and the presidents and gen- 
erals who control them, they also need 
them like you need your prostheses. The 
president is one of their key front men, 
a man who made himself famous as an 
inventor of innovative professional in- 
terrogation techniques, which was how 
he got elected, as the owners' selection 
process is sometimes called. His patented 
inventions are mostly variations based on 
old methods like waterboarding, electric 
shock, hamstringing, sensory depriva- 
tion and the thumbscrew, but technologi- 
cally and medically enhanced to be more 
persuasive. The owners of the world love 
him. Removing such a central player from 
the game board sends a signal. The own- 
ers without their proxies might have to 
show themselves, and we can start track- 
ing them. The model here is still kings 
and castles, the wizard explained, though 
the dimensions have changed and there's 
a corporate twist. That is to say, networks 
of kings and castles under competing lo- 
gos, which sometimes act like people but 
aren't people. It's my understanding it's 
not your objective to choose sides, you 
want to immobilize the entire complex. 
You got it, dude. All right, we can go for 
that, but we have to move right now be- 
cause, after your pick, they'll be trying to 
shut me down, and I'm not hard to find. 
When I'm plugged in, I beep. That the 
wizard was using the first person plural 
was a good sign. He'd already forgotten 
the game he was playing before and was 
now excited about this one. The airman 
pointed out that the president's mansion 
is a notorious fortress, how can this possi- 
bly be done? We just walk in and tell him 
what we want him to do, said the wizard 
calmly. We'll have to get through a mil- 
lion heavily armed secret service agents 
and crack antiterrorist squads, said the 
marksman. I probably can't reload fast 
enough. I'm aware of that, the wizard 
said. It's time to send in the Mona Lisa. 
Why do I get the feeling, the masked 
woman asked, that I've been redesigned 
merely to be a player in one of your 
games? The wizard might have smiled, it 
was hard to tell. His stainless steel head 
was only minimally expressive. Now I rec- 
ommend you unplug me and vacate this 
space instantly, he said, his eyes flashing 
red. So they did that, leaving the building 
on the double just as it was pulverized, 
the old soldier porting the blind ranger, 
the airman rocketing out of the explod- 
ing window with the inanimate wizard 
strapped to his back. 


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170 


Capturing the president went exactly as 
planned. The masked woman, unmasked, 
led the way into his mansion, the troops 
guarding him falling with a flutter like 
that of a shuffled poker deck. There was 
a vast array of locked steel gates barring 
their way, but the wizard had provided 
the blind ranger with a sensory upgrade, 
and he clicked them right through. They 
reached the president's bedroom, where 
they found him in flagrante delicto with 
an anthropomorphic corporate mascot. 
The masked woman, wearing her mask 
once more, seemed to be blessing their 
union with her inscrutable smile. The 
old soldier chased the mascot off and 
they powered on the wizard, assuming 
the owners would be reluctant to eradi- 
cate the president, he being a major asset, 
but the wizard told them they were mis- 
taken. We have about two minutes and 40 
seconds before they trace my signal and 


destroy this place, he said. Two minutes, 
30 seconds. The president panicked at 
that and tried to run but got tripped up 
by his own tuxedo pants, still around his 
ankles. We need to get to the war room, 
a signal-proof shell that 1 designed my- 
self, said the wizard. My powers will be 
somewhat diminished in there, but they 
can't track or hack me and 1 can still run 
most programs. The old soldier picked 
the president up by his nape, pants dan- 
gling, whacked his honorable ass with his 
rifle butt and ordered him to take them 
to the war room. Why don't you just turn 
that fucking beeper off or take it out? the 
ranger asked. Can't, the wizard said. They 
implanted it in my heart. In fact, that's 
the high-frequency sound it makes. 

At the war room door, they were met 
by a bloated four-star general who tried 
to block their way with his bulk and a 
golden cross he held up at them as if they 


"T liked it better when you were a discriminating, sexist, 
unequal-opportunity employer." 


were vampires. Not only a damn bigwig 
but a Christer as well! The old soldier's 
spring-loaded fist shot out 10 feet and 
sent the fat man, who was about five feet 
away at the point of impact, flying back 
into the war room, bowling over a doz- 
en others. There were a few uniformed 
toughs to deal with, but the room was 
mostly packed out with top brass, notori- 
ous cowards who preferred to fight their 
wars from rooms like this, together with 
a few loose women and the customary 
clique of sleazebag politicos and corpo- 
rate magnates getting their kicks out of 
the casualty numbers. They were quick- 
ly rounded up and herded into the war 
room's on-site pet kennels, there to await 
their opportunity to test out some of the 
president's famous inventions. Were some 
of them owners? They would find out. 

The whole mortally damaged world was 
on view in the war room, shrunk onto an 
encircling and overarching panoply of mul- 
titudinous screens, a flickering patchwork 
of markets and market disturbances on 
nervous display. Old-fashioned pinpricked 
wall maps flagged the main action, with 
clouds of ashen spray paint indicating the 
dead and dying parts of the earth. You feel 
like you own the whole world in here, said 
the airman, except that it's not so much the 
world as a fucking video game. What other 
world is there? the wizard asked, taking 
control of the array of touchscreens and 
keyboards. The marksman noted that the 
wizard seemed to know his way around the 
place. In the old days, I used to operate my 
drones and killbots from rooms like this, he 
said. A buddy of mine got zapped by one 
of those drones that went astray, said the 
blind ranger. Did you do that on purpose? 
The wizard shrugged but didn't answer. 

Once the wizard had things up and run- 
ning, they informed the president that he 
was to order the removal of all the gold in 
the national treasury to another location. 
They chose a warehouse in a river town in 
the middle of the country where the poor 
lived, including an abundance of old sol- 
diers out of work and luck. People would 
get wind of it, they knew, and it wouldn't 
last long. Then they ordered him to sink all 
the ships, destroy all military aircraft and 
stockpiled weapons, and send the troops 
home. I can't do that! the president cried. 
Waterboard him, said the old soldier. Give 
him half a bottle of schizoid pills, inject him. 
with asthma and sinusitis, and use his own 
patented deep-throat techniques. I can do 
it, the president said with a sigh. But we'll 
be at the mercy of all the rest of the world. 
No, we won't, said the wizard, gleaming steel 
head down over the console and fingers rac- 
ing. I'm taking care of that right now. If you 
dismantle all the armed forces, the airman 
asked, what will happen with all those unem- 
ployed people? I don't know, the old soldier 
said. Should be interesting. 

The world just went off the gold stan- 
dard, the wizard announced, and its value 
has dropped to that of tin. Tough luck for 
those riverside folks. A couple of central 
African countries have been invaded, so co- 
balt may be the next marker. Or else scan- 
dium; someone just bought Madagascar. 


I thought they already owned all those 
things, the blind ranger said. This is a 
game, the wizard said. There's more than 
one “they.” There'll be arguments and sa- 
ber rattling. Another opportunity to shoot 
each other and use up more of the world's 
stuff. And people, the old soldier said. Like 
I said, said the wizard, the world's stuff. 
These corporate teams are into some kind 
of nihilistic apocalyptic endgame with each 
other and are probably reveling in these 
new developments, as it was what they 
were aiming for all along. I'll see what I 
can do to spread some disinformation and 
rattle the markets, shake a few of them out 
onto the streets. I've knocked out a few 
space stations and—ah, I think they've 
figured out where we are. They probably 
want to nuke us, but their aircraft are all 
grounded, all drones and bots except 
the ones I'm driving have been disabled, 
and I've hacked their computerized mis- 
sile guidance systems and boomeranged 
them, so if they fire them, they'll be blow- 
ing themselves up instead of us. Watch the 
monitors. Indeed, there was a lot of action 
there, not all of it pretty, and on the maps, 
which turned out to be digital whiteboards 
with drifting virtual 3-D pins, the cadaver- 
ous patches were spreading. There was a 
3-D pin, blinking red, in the national capi- 
tal. You've still got drones in the air? the 
old soldier asked. Sure, the wizard said. 
Since we have only a dim idea of who 
the other players are, personality strikes 
are difficult, but I've been able to use the 
whole robotic arsenal for signature strikes, 
targeting persons in the same uniforms, in 
this case business suits. My old man wore 
a business suit, the old soldier said, and 
he didn't own anything, not even the suit. 
You'll be erasing a lot of innocent people. 
In war, the wizard said, there are no inno- 
cent people, only numbers—oh oh! Hang 
on! Some of the hacks have been repaired 
and I'm being locked out. There's apt to be 
some stiff incoming. It's time to decamp. 
Fast. Where will we go? asked the airman. 
You own the world, what's left of it, go 
wherever you want, said the wizard, his 
head still down, fingers flying over screens 
and keyboards. I've located your accounts 
and loaded them with a few billion each. 
Spend it while money still buys things. 
What about you? the marksman asked. 
Nah, I love this game, said the wizard. His 
steel head was shining, seemed almost to 
be perspiring. Best I was ever in. I'm stay- 
ing to play it out. 

At the door, the old soldier, wonder- 
ing if the wizard was chasing them off to 
have the game to himself, turned back to 
take a last look at the whiteboard with its 
spreading ashen splotches. Old mother 
earth is putrefying, he said. What'll we 
do with her remains, cremate them? 
Already done that, said the masked wom- 
an, guiding the ranger out the door by 
the elbow. So after the game is over, the 
marksman asked, will there be anything 
left? Sure, the wizard said from his con- 
sole. The corporate logos. They're inde- 
structible. Like cockroaches. 


TURNED ON 


(continued from page 88) 
rethinking our definition of pornography 
as webcams relocate the porn star from the 
Valley to the house next door. 


Aaliyah Love, petite, blonde and wearing an 
aqua satin bra, moves fluidly across a bed. A 
watermark stamped over the center of the 
video reads viv cams. We are watching a 
training video that Vivid Entertainment, 
one of adult entertainment's biggest com- 
panies, sends to cam-girl recruits. As Aaliyah 
demonstrates how to act on camera, slowly 
moving onto all fours, she gives sensible 
advice about money. "The thing that will 
determine how successful you are and how 
much money you make is how you act. 
You have to be happy, bubbly and inviting 
at all times, even if you are not in a good 
mood,” she says, her voice in a high girl- 
ish octave you keep expecting to drop but 
never does. “Repeat customers are where 
you make most of your money,” she reminds 
the viewer while writhing in lingerie. Vivid 
offers 10 training videos for new cam girls, 
including examples of how to do private 
shows: “Most of the time it is just simple 
masturbating with a toy and talking dirty,” 
Aaliyah says matter-of-factly, waving a glass 
dildo like a baton. 

A tour of Vivid's Hollywood Hills 
headquarters—a stucco office park with 
ribbon windows and the Vivid corporate 
logo looming large—proves that porn is 
alive but changing. In the upstairs editing 
room, rows of men sit squinting at close- 
ups of slow-motion penetration—content 
that will stream on the site. Vivid has stayed 
afloat in a time when many companies are 
being bought out. Camming helps. “Vivid 
got into cams in 2012,” explains Eli Mattar, 
manager of operations for Vivid Cams, a 
division of Vivid that works in tandem with 
Streamate. (One industry insider divulged 
that though the internet appears to be lit- 
tered with cam sites, most of the smaller sites 
are owned by Streamate, MyFreeCams or 
other, larger companies.) 

While a lot of porn companies struggled 
to adapt to the internet, Mattar says, starlets 
especially took a hit. “But you do see more 
and more stars using webcams now, which 
used to be strictly amateur. Of course our 
stars are guaranteed placement on cam, but 
we want middle America. That's what we 
want—the girl next door.” 

That's what Aaliyah Love was when she 
started camming. A preschool teacher from 
the Midwest making $8 an hour, she thought 
the flexible gig would give her more time for 
her passion, following the jam band Phish, 
which she did while living out of her SUV 
and wearing fairy wings. “There were days 
I didn't see a mirror, but I didn't need to. 
I didn't need to wash my face. Glitter was 
the only makeup I wore," she says. This 
year Aaliyah spent $4,000 on her nails alone 
and is now getting the last relic from her 
hippie days—a Grateful Dead bear tattoo— 
removed. “I swear 1 spend all my money 
on hair extensions and cat food,” she says. 

Aaliyah was around for what she terms 


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the golden era of webcamming, about a 
decade ago, which is shocking considering 
her youthful look. At the time, most of the 
other women online were from former East- 
ern Bloc countries: Russia, Ukraine, Czech 
Republic. There were far fewer cam girls, 
and Aaliyah was one of the few English- 
speaking American models. Savvy to this, 
the site Flirt4Free offered to make Aaliyah 
a featured model with the stipulation that 
she dye her hair from brunette to blonde 
and change her name to Aaliyah for a bet- 
ter alphabetical listing (her first pick was 
Molly); the salon appointment had already 
been made. "We were working 25 hours 
a week, making $4,000 back then," she 
says. But as the sites flooded with Amer- 
ican women and a new party-chat model 
that allows men to lurk for free became the 
norm, prices plummeted—$5.99 a minute 
became a dollar or pennies. It's a topic much 
lamented on private cam-girl forums, where 
countless posts decry the difficulties of mak- 
ing any livable wage from camming. 

In the 1990s cam sites were often pro- 
duced out of studios or BDSM dungeons. 
Women logged shifts from elaborate rooms 
in physical work spaces complete with 
co-workers. When Aaliyah started, the cul- 
ture of this model remained. Companies 
expected women to wear stockings with gar- 
ters and full makeup with false eyelashes. 
"They trained employees to be bubbly at all 
times and never say no to a customer. It's 
a stark contrast to the Wild West of a site 
such as MyFreeCams, where there is little 
control from the top and models have free 
rein over how they conduct their shows. 
The result is a stream of women who rely 
only on tips, offering hardcore content in 
public chat rooms or conducting "voyeur 
shows," which mostly involve the women 
sitting in their bedrooms, scrolling through 
the internet. Regardless of approach, the 


way to make money camming, says Aaliyah 
and every cam girl interviewed, is through 
regulars—big tippers—whose phone num- 
bers are programmed into your phone. 

Nestled into a booth for brunch at the 
Standard hotel in Los Angeles, Aaliyah 
recalls the customer who never talked but 
would pay for private chats by the minute, 
then stand in the corner and lift weights. 
Not sure what to do, Aaliyah would carry on 
and masturbate. "He would get this really 
mean look on his face," she says, pretend- 
ing to lift weights and puffing her cheeks 
with air. “I would say, ‘Oh yeah, baby, pump 
that iron.” There was the guy who tipped 
Aaliyah and a friend $20,000 during a girl- 
girl show. “We found his house with Google 
Farth, and it was just this regular place in 
Wisconsin." There were lonely guys, virgins, 
all the clichés. "I worry maybe we're doing 
a disservice for these guys," Aaliyah says. 
"Maybe some of these guys who spend a lot 
of time on adult sites think all girls orgasm 
in two minutes from nothing at all. When 
you're not paying a woman $5.99 a minute, 
they might not laugh at your jokes as much." 

Despite the occasional big tip, Aaliyah 
worked 12-hour shifts to sustain a 
middle-class lifestyle, resulting in carpal tun- 
nel and cysts in her wrist. She switched to 
brushing her teeth with her left hand and 
continued to cam. "I would zoom in on my 
butt so I could eat my lunch really quick. I'd 
shake my butt at the camera so I could text 
my dad Tl call you back, Dad!” 

During off-hours she felt guilty for not 
being on cam. Any time at home was time 
she could be making money. But Aaliyah also 
found herself procrastinating, wandering 
around the house with a full face of makeup 
before going on. "You just never know what 
is going to happen when you get on cam," 
she explains. She could spend hours wait- 
ing for tippers or be asked to masturbate for 


"Really, Roger...you take all the fun out of freaky three-way sex!” 


two hours straight or be made to watch men 
do bizarre things to themselves. 

As the site grew, Flirt4Free sent Aaliyah 
and another cam girl to adult-industry con- 
ventions. The other cam girl noticed that all 
the porn girls had last names. “We should 
have last names too, to look professional," 
she suggested. Everyone they met asked 
the same question: Who do you shoot for? 
Aaliyah eventually made the jump from 
camming to porn. She just recently started 
shooting boy-girl scenes, and aside from 
the work being more glamorous, she's also 
found it is more lucrative. "Girls ask me how 
to get what I have, and I tell them, “Work 
your ass off for 10 years like I did,'” she 
says, never breaking her sunny demeanor. 

It's this positivity that shows in the Vivid 
training videos. In person Aaliyah laughs 
at a mention of the videos. "I always worry 
about those," she says, face falling in her 
hands. There had been little in the way of 
script, as Vivid expected she could speak 
from her experience. "When you're starting 
out, you may not have any chatters in your 
room," she explains on-screen. "But don't 
just sit there and say, ‘C'mon, guysssss!”” She 
glides a hand to her hip. "What I do is liter- 
ally talk to myself, like Arent these panties 
pretty, guys?'” she says to a blank computer 
screen, running her hands along her body. 


Nikki Hearts, a model for alt-porn hub 
Burning Angel, moved from the Midwest to 
Los Angeles six months ago to do porn and 
has since acquired a sleeve tattoo depict- 
ing a postapocalyptic Hollywood Boulevard 
and social cachet as Dave Navarro's "les- 
bian wingman." 

"We go to goth parties and creep on pale 
girls with dark hair who are really tiny and 
creepy," she says, tinkering with a white bass 
she says once belonged to Glenn Hughes 
from Deep Purple, a gift from Navarro. 

The first month Nikki moved here, Mea- 
sure B passed. It's a Los Angeles County 
law that requires porn performers to use 
condoms, something many in the indus- 
try protested. "I was like, Oh my God, is 
no one going to make porn anymore?" she 
says. The alt-performer had already been 
having a hard time finding work because 
she shoots only girl-girl and has tattoos and 
short hair. Nikki, who may qualify as a "tiny 
creepy girl" with her twiggy arms and giant 
brown eyes, lives with her long-term part- 
ner, Lindsay, in a small luxury apartment in 
Hollywood. She has no plans to shoot scenes 
with men and dreams of starting her own 
lesbian-porn studio. 

Nikki's agent warned that shooting only 
girl-girl would cut out 75 percent of her 
work opportunities and that she wasn't 
sure how to market Nikki. "She asked if I 
was in porn for money or fame. I said that 
porn was the best job I'd ever had and I just 
wanted to show people how I, as a queer 
woman, actually have sex." 

She has shot a few scenes she's proud 
of since being in L.A., but during the day- 
to-day grind she finds herself camming a 
lot. This day she sat on MyFreeCams for 
hours. Guys came into her room but weren't 
spending. To shake off the negativity, Nikki 


is soaking in a hot tub with her girlfriend 
and another friend, Courtney Trouble, an 
indie queer-porn producer. 

Post-hot tub, the trio sits on marigold 
love seats with the air conditioner turned on 
high. "So when you're on cam, how do you 
get guys to go into private chat?" Courtney 
asks, tucking Nikki's tiny Chihuahua into 
her cleavage. "As someone who has tried to 
cam, that seems to be the tricky part," she 
explains as the dog looks around. 

Instead of trying to get guys to chat by the 
minute, Nikki does group shows. She sets 
a goal amount and a timer, and if guys' col- 
lective tipping reaches the goal, she will do 
whatever was promised—a private hardcore 
show or something as simple as bringing the 
cam poolside while she skinny-dips. 

"I think the average porn customer is 
changing," Courtney says. "You can make 
money if you're really being yourself these 
days. People don't want cookie-cutter starlets 
anymore. Porn is free on the internet, but if 
you're captivated by a person, you will pay." 

Courtney advises Nikki not to give up on 
her lesbian porn-star dreams. “That's the 
thing," Courtney says. "If you're just doing 
what you are told and no one gets to know 
you, then you are just an interchangeable 
body. You are not going to stand out and 
make money." 

In a way it's a good time to be in porn, says 
Courtney, because it's more socially accept- 
able than ever before: "Now it's cool for 
celebrities to pose nude," she says. "I mean, 
having a sex tape with Vivid just boosts your 
popularity. It's the mainstreaming of porn 
that has allowed porn stars to be themselves. 
In part, it's that the view about women in the 
industry has changed. It's no longer thought 
that you were forced into porn." 


"Welcome, gentlemen. I am Amber Lynn, 
your porn star goddess," says the woman 
next to a four-poster bed with stage lights 
clipped to its columns, just out of sight of 
the webcam. On the duvet is a towel and a 
wooden tray of sex toys. "You may recognize 
me from some of your favorite adult films," 
she continues as men ping in from her Twit- 
ter feed or from browsing the "porn star" 
tag on Streamate. 

Amber recently celebrated her 30th 
anniversary in the adult industry. She 
is approaching 50, though according to 
Amber, in porn, age doesn't matter as much 
as whether you look good, which she does. 
When Amber walks past the pool outside 
her apartment building, heads swivel at 
her toned legs and striking features. We 
are at a small one-bedroom apartment in 
L.A. that Amber uses when she shoots porn 
and now also as her place to cam. Before 
going on, she brushes her teeth and touches 
up her makeup. "Someone called in to the 
show I host on XXX Porn Star Radio and 
said camming is like a cross between porn 
and prostitution," she says, coating on two 
different Chanel lipsticks. “But even with 
stripping you have to directly engage doing 
lap dances. Here you don't." In the 1990s 
Amber made money visiting strip clubs as 
a popular porn star and a featured dancer. 
“Now everybody cams,” she says. 


Sitting behind an old Dell laptop, Amber 
sees two chat rooms on the screen, one with 
site members and the other with nonpaying 
guests. As Amber moves around on cam, 
messages pour in. “Is it really you?” they 
ask. “You look great. So sexy!” Sometimes 
they're mean, though, with the obligatory 
“old” and “ugly” comments and, worse, 
the men with disturbing requests. This is 
something every cam girl interviewed wants 
to talk about: the astounding number of 
bizarre or disgusting requests. “Which is 
fine,” Amber says, until they cross the line 
into illegal or just plain gross. “Most of my 
guys are great, though.” 

Amber moves the entire time she is in 
general chat, blowing kisses, dancing and 
enticing the guys to bring her into private 
chat. “Oh, look at the rack on that girl,” 
she says and then looks at the comments. 
“Oh, you guys always want to see ass. You 
don't even care about tits anymore. Ass is 
the new tits.” Amber lifts the webcam and 
shakes it behind her. “We've got a free 
Snuffleupagus!” she says. 

When someone requests a private chat, 
Amber jumps on the bed and slips out of 
her lingerie. On the other end of the camera 
is a man with gray hair and a baseball cap, 
his eyes cast downward. She immediately 
begins masturbating with a toy. “I am going 
to come,” she screams minutes later. When 
the customer closes out of the chat, she is 
quickly thrown back into group chat. Near 
the end of the three hours, Amber does a 
group show with double penetration, using 
a bendable pink jelly dildo. 

“It’s hard work, right?" she says after- 
ward, sweaty and buzzing as a tiny clock on 
the screen counts down a two-minute break 
(designated by the site) before she's thrown 
back into chat. “I mean, you have to jump 
on the bed, dildo your pussy and act like 
you like it, you know?" she says, laughing 
and out of breath. 

"Three hours later Amber has made hun- 
dreds of dollars. She brushes her teeth 
again. "Camming is the new porn," she says 
into the bathroom mirror. "Porn is crum- 
bling. The internet is melting the industry, 
and now a few companies own everything." 
Driving through the Hollywood Hills, 
Amber talks about how different the indus- 
try was when she started, in the early 1980s. 
"It was just a handful of people, and we 
were all hippies. You'd close the set at the 
end of every shoot to try to get both actors 
to have actual orgasms," she explains and 
then points—distracted—toward West Hol- 
lywood and her old apartment. "But now to 
make any porn it has to be really twisted and 
niche. Now it's a circus act. It's just about. 
trying to fill as many holes as you possibly 
can without tearing anyone's skin." 


Exiting a hunter green convertible outside 
a hotel-casino bar, Houston is striking in a 
well-kept California-housewife way, but up. 
close certain things stand out: the beauty- 
mark tattoo, the plastic surgeries, the huge 
jewel-like eyes. Houston, 44, moved to Las 
Vegas in 2003 after quitting porn, and in the 
bar she goes on a rant. "I mean, we were the 
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says in a throaty southern California accent. 
“Dude, we shot on film!” 

Houston's antics got her inducted into 
the porn hall of fame: breaking the world 
record for biggest gang bang (620 guys) and 
going to a prom with a teenager who had 
asked her via Howard Stern and whom she 
ended up dating for a year. All of which, 
Houston says, boosted her career. It was 
all worth it. "I mean, if I dropped some- 
thing on set, there was someone following 
me around to pick it up. Now you'd have to 
be crazy to get into porn. Are you kidding 
me? There's no money." 

After leaving porn, Houston worked for 
five years as a real estate agent, which she calls 
the best job of her life. She was putting her 
daughter through private school, and things 
were good and quiet until—inevitably— 
Houston was called in to meet with her 
company's CEO. "I thought, I'm getting 
another promotion," she says and then pauses 
when Donna Summer's "She Works Hard for 
the Money” shuflles onto the playlist. Hous- 
ton was fired for being recognized, an all too 
common problem for those who try to leave 
the high-profile sex work of porn. Weeks later 
Houston was diagnosed with cancer (she is 
now cancer free). During this time she spoke 
at churches about her history of drug use and 
her negative experiences in the industry. All 
this is chronicled in the book she just wrote. 

Now Houston is back in the industry. “My 
boyfriend tells me, ‘Make your coin while 
you can, babe.’” She travels to L.A. for the 
occasional shoot and cams regularly out of 
her home in Vegas. "There is a stigma with 
camming, because people think, Oh my 
God, aren't you rich? Yeah, but that doesn't 
mean I can't take a couple of extra grand 
a week. I say I'm on cam to promote my 
projects, my book, whatever, but I'm here 
for the money, dude." 

Houston has to be up early tomorrow 


to cam (waking up at five to run and then 
doing her hair and makeup, which takes 
forever), but she is easily convinced to stay 
for another drink. Applying lip gloss in the 
bar's bathroom mirror, Houston reiterates, 
"I was making millions, man. I really was. 
But now a few companies own everything 
in porn, and you've got to take what they're 
paying if you want to work." 

Some girls come into the bathroom, and 
for reasons unknown, Houston takes selfies 
with them in the bathroom mirror. "How 
do I Instagram this to my boyfriend?" she 
asks a few times, creating nonsensical cap- 
tions with auto-correct. (Later she does 
a perfect series of cartwheels in the hotel 
hallway—three in a row, landing with gym- 
nastic precision on the paisley carpet.) 

In the bar Houston squints at someone 
in the casino. “I thought it was this DJ guy. 
Never mind." She takes a sip of her wine 
and returns to the topic. “Camming is what 
people do now. It's a grind, dude. Thank 
God I have a big name. I don't know how 
these nobodies make any money. You have 
to be on, you have to have a full face of 
makeup, you have to answer all their stu- 
pid questions." In the background Shania 
"Twain sings "Man! I Feel Like a Woman." 


"Today is Aaliyah's first day off the porn set 
in a long stretch, and she's booked with hair 
and nail appointments, STD tests and a tan- 
ning session. Since she started doing boy-girl 
scenes she's been working 12-hour days and 
is trying extra hard to please everyone on 
set so she's invited back. "Sometimes it's just, 
like, you're hot and exhausted and all your 
muscles are burning," she says in a sing- 
song voice. "And you're super hungry and 
things are getting sore. But it's funny, when 
the editor puts the footage together, none 
of that shows—thank God!" 


"Sex is a healthy, natural activity between married people 
who can't find anything to watch on TV." 


Aaliyah could do shorter, internet-y 
scenes—she describes a studio where girls 
pop in to shoot a quick blow job for a few 
hundred dollars—but she prefers the glit- 
tering sets, scripts and makeup artists of 
feature films, a type that is increasingly rare. 
Aaliyah is grateful she's able to get this work 
and chalks it all up to her camming fans. “I 
mean, I'm not the youngest or the prettiest 
or the dirtiest, but I have 10 years' worth 
of fans, and that's why I'm here,” she says. 

The studios make less money now, and 
competition among starlets has increased 
dramatically. All this has changed the atmo- 
sphere of porn, Aaliyah explains. People 
used to make fun of those in the industry 
who took it too seriously, she says. After 
all, it’s just porn. People used to party on 
set. Aaliyah has heard stories about people 
smoking pot and having sex in the bath- 
room. “That doesn't happen anymore," she 
says. "Now when you arrive you hold your 
ID to your face, and they make you answer 
things on camera, like 'Are you on drugs? 
Did anyone make you do things you didn't 
want to do?” 

What it means to be a fan has also 
changed. To get off work, Aaliyah has to 
tweet that she's turning off her phone and 
then disconnect. “I have made myself so 
available to the fans from camming. I see 
this with porn girls too. With social media, 
fans can get to know their favorite girl, and 
camming with them makes you less depen- 
dent on that porn check. But now it's made 
the fans expect this interaction. They want 
their favorite porn star to do exactly what 
they want.” 

As she calls for the valet, Aaliyah apolo- 
gizes that her car is dirty and then apologizes 
for saying that. “Porn stars are obsessed with 
cars. It's a Los Angeles thing to live above 
your means in general. But the thing is, no 
one is getting rich doing porn anymore," she 
says, checking the rearview mirror. “No one 
is making millions, that's for sure." 


Brittany Jean is on vacation in Vegas. It's her 
first time outside the South, and in between 
trips to the mall she has been signing in to 
MyGirlFund to make more money. One of 
the guys on the site said he was sure he had 
walked right past her on the Strip. This 
shocks Brittany Jean, whose small-town 
infamy tumbles only through the gossip mill. 

While her husband gambles, Brittany 
Jean hopes to meet up with Sheridan Love, 
a cam girl who broke into porn through 
her fan base, asking her 26,000 followers 
to tweet specific directors and companies 
and tell them to cast her. 

"It would be awesome to just stay in Vegas 
forever," says Brittany Jean. But for now, she 
explains, camming provides an escape. In 
her real life she has obligations to her fam- 
ily, and she doesn't have much of a social 
life; on cam she can pretend to be some- 
one else entirely. "I think it would be so 
cool, so awesome to do porn," she says. "I 
watch YouTube videos of L.A. and just pic- 
ture myself there sometimes. It all looks so 
glamorous and free." 


3 MINUTES 


(continued from page 81) 
week until the night strangers brought him 
home on a stretcher of blond-colored door, 
unconscious, eyes rolled back, blood leak- 
ing from his mouth, nose and ears, and his 
paycheck missing. 

My father couldn't forget the image 
of that door. He told me the story one 
Sunday when the two of us were picking 
through one of the wrecking sites he'd 
stake out to loot for BX cable, pipes, 
flooring—scrap he'd use to rehab our 
apartment building. The excavation pit 
was closed off from the street by a make- 
shift wall of doors from the demolished 
buildings, with DANGER KEEP OUT slapped 
in red paint across them. He said his fa- 
ther lay comatose for a week before an 
ambulance took him away. The blond 
door, stained with his father's blood, re- 
mained propped against the bedroom 
wall in their flat as if it might open on a 
secret passage leading to a hidden room. 
The bloodstain had come to look like il- 
legible handwriting. Weeks passed with- 
out Michael coming home, and finally 
my father couldn't stand looking at that 
door. He couldn't heft it, so he enlisted 
his kid brother, Victor—Chino—to help 
him. They managed to drag it into the 
alley. My father looked at the blood- 
stain one last time. He could make out 
an S, the first letter of his name, as if 
he'd been left an indecipherable mes- 
sage. The homeless patrolled alleys, 
sorting through the trash for treasures. 
That door would be somebody's lucky 
day. Now that they'd hauled it out of the 
house, my father felt guilty for throwing 
away a perfectly good door. 

It wasn't until he told me about the 
door that I remembered how back when 
I was still too young to understand where 
we were going, he'd take me along on 
an annual visit—he never said to where. 
My mother would pack a shopping bag 
with food and used clothes, but she never 
joined us. It seemed a long drive out to 
what we called “the country,” past cem- 
eteries and forest preserves, along roads 
lined with shade trees and smoothly 
paved, unlike the potholed streets on 
the industrial South Side. Finally we'd 
enter the black spearhead gates of an in- 
stitution. Shopping bag in one hand and 
mine in his other, my father guided us 
down corridors that reeked of disinfec- 
tant and urine. A voice from the end of 
a hall was always shouting, “I don't be- 
long here!” Attendants would bring out a 
gray-stubbled, dazed old man in a wheel- 
chair and leave the three of us some pri- 
vacy before a sunny bank of windows that 
looked out on a lawn dotted with invalids. 
The old man's hands were clenched in 
his lap. My father would gently pry open 
those petrified fists and take the battered 
hands in his and smooth his fingers over 
the scarred, bulging knuckles. He'd lower 
his face to the old man's hand, now de- 
fused on the armrest of the wheelchair, as 
if to kiss it, but instead he'd rest his cheek 
there a moment. Then it was time to go. 


After a few such trips, I asked, "Dad, 
who's that old guy?" 
“Your grampa Michael,” he said. 


I knew better than to try to persuade 
my father to let me box. It wasn't that 
he blamed boxing for what happened to 
Michael. Actually, aside from his love of 
swimming, boxing was the only sport my 
father showed the least interest in. After 
he'd dropped out of school, among his 
many odd jobs was spotting pins at bowling 
alleys. But bowling—one of the two major 
sports for men in our neighborhood, prob- 
ably because it could be combined with the 
other major sport, beer drinking—didn't 
interest him. He didn't play golf or tennis, 
not even table tennis. If he had a hobby, it 
was the endless upkeep—plumbing, paint- 
ing, tuck-pointing—on the fixer-upper on 
Washtenaw Avenue he'd saved for years to 
buy. We lived on the first floor because that 
was where landlords lived. Until he con- 
verted all six flats to oil, he rose each morn- 
ing at five to stoke the coal furnace before 
leaving for the factory. Each night, he'd 
return home to some waiting repair. There 
wasn't time for games, not if he was going 
to realize the stage in capitalism beyond 
basic survival that he called "getting a leg 
up." He wasn't a Bears fan; he didn't fol- 
low the Cubs or Sox and never took me to 
a ball game or came to a single track meet 
I ran in—not even the state finals—nor 
did I expect him to. I lived in a time and 
place of unsupervised childhoods, a condi- 
tion that didn't feel at all like neglect. It felt 
ecstatic and free, and my allegiance was to 
keeping it that way. But my father did set 
Wednesday nights aside for the Pabst Blue 
Ribbon fights, and I'd watch with him. It 
wasn't some father-and-son ritual in bond- 
ing. Decades before anyone imagined in- 
teractive computer games, my father sat 
before the 17-inch screen participating in 
the battle, his fists cocked, his face register- 
ing the rush of emotions and adrenaline as 
he feinted, ducked and counterpunched. 
You kept your distance from his seat at the 
edge of the maroon stuffed chair or else 
risked getting clobbered. 

Maybe a magnetic pull toward fights 
ran in our family. A generation earlier, 
my father's younger brother Victor—my 
uncle Chino—won the welterweight divi- 
sion of the Golden Gloves. He had boxed 
in the Navy and was never defeated in the 
ring. Like my grandfather Michael, Chino 
would end up in Dunning, in a room he 
referred to as the Dybek Wing. 

Unlike Grandpa Michael, who sat staring 
from his wheelchair into the void, Chino 
staged several escapes over that spear- 
tipped fence, legendary for impaling cra- 
zies. When he managed a breakout, he'd 
jog the streets of the old neighborhood in 
his high-tops as if training—shadowboxing, 
jumping an air rope, hustling handouts. 
Once, waiting in the car as I frequently 
did when my father left it running in a 
no-parking zone to avoid feeding a meter, 
I saw a bum in a hooded jersey, jogging 
down the block, yelling “Stosh!” to my fa- 
ther, who'd just stepped out from an auto 


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CREDITS: COVER: MODEL: ANGELA 
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parts store. Pretending not to hear him, 
my father, with a look of shame, jumped in 
the car and sped away. 1 felt ashamed too 
for not having recognized Chino and then 
running out on him. I asked my father 
why we didn't stop. He told me that Chino 
owed him too much already. “Dough won't 
help,” he said. “He's got the family curse.” 

It was the first I'd heard about a family 
curse, but I didn't ask my father to explain. 
On some level, I already knew that what- 
ever he'd say would—like the phrase family 
curse itself—sound like a superstition that 
should have been left in the Old Country, 
and that hearing my father say aloud what 
he'd left to silence would only further the 
alienation I'd begun to feel toward him. 

Before Chino's bouts with depression 
or bipolar disorder or whatever they were 
calling the family curse at the time, my un- 
cle tried to teach me to box. It pleased him 
that we were both southpaws. At family get- 
togethers at my grandma's house across 
from the freight tracks and granary tow- 
ers on 17th Street, Chino would give me 
a nod that meant it was time to leave the 
boring small talk behind. We'd sneak out 
into her backyard, and knee-deep in weeds 
he'd teach me the jabs, hooks and upper- 
cuts, and how to throw them using my hips 
and legs so the blows weren't pitty-pats. 
He taught me to keep my thumbs tucked 
so I didn't dislocate them as I swung at 
the moving targets of his open palms. He 
taught me to always keep my guard up. 

There was always more to practice— 
combinations, defense, footwork, strategy. 
He knew baseball was my favorite sport, 
and he explained why Sugar Ray Robinson 
was an athlete equal to Willie Mays. For my 
11th birthday he bought me a pair of pil- 
lowy, oversize gloves. I'd wear a football 
helmet, and we'd spar, me bobbing and 
weaving while Chino flicked jabs, until I 
was flushed and could hear both his slaps 
and my breath echoing in the helmet. 

He never hurt me. He'd tighten his 
stomach and insist I punch him in the 
solar plexus: "No mosquito bites, a real 
punch. Pretend I'm a heavy bag." I didn't 
want to hit him, which he found hilari- 
ous. "I'm like the great Houdini—abs of 
steel—you can't hurt me, and if you could, 
no pain, no gain, right?" Then, in answer 
to his own question, he'd have us on our 
backs doing the elbow-to-knee twists he 
called pug-ups, guaranteed to make my 
solar plexus impervious to punishment 
too. "Surviving a right-hand world gives 
lefties an advantage," he assured me. "Fast 
hands run in our family." 

I believed him about hand speed be- 
cause I had fast feet. I could outrun every- 
one at St. Roman grade school and every 
kid including the older guys in Lawndale 
Gardens, the housing project kitty-corner 
from our apartment building. On the foot- 
ball field, I'd never been caught from be- 
hind. If not for Chino, I'd have never been 
the only güerito enrolled in the Hermandad 
de Boxeo program at the Marshall Square 
Boys Club. We entered the ring there 
armored—padded headgear, a mouth- 
piece, mandatory jockstrap and a kind of 
ill-fitting padded corset that protected the 


ribs. A knockdown, let alone a knockout, 
was all but impossible at the Boys Club. Oc- 
casionally a fight was stopped because of a 
thumbed eye or a split lip, but fights were 
decided on points as if they were fencing 
matches with tipped foils. My strategy was 
to attack just as my opponent was adjust- 
ing his rib pads or the headgear obscuring 
his vision. I expended my energy dancing 
like Sugar Ray. That grace might reside in 
the economy of motion never occurred to 
me. My long, skinny arms gave me a reach 
advantage and no one I fought had learned 
how to take a fight inside. I flicked my right- 
hand jab and kept my left cocked, ready 
to erupt into the rhythmic combinations 
I'd tattooed against Uncle Chino's palms. 
Mostly they glanced off my opponent's 
gloves, but landing a punch was secondary 
to the flash of throwing it. My Brothers of 
Boxing weren't connecting either, which I 
attributed to my savvy defense. 


A year later, I was on the boxing team at St. 
Augustine, training for my first freshman 
fight in the Catholic Youth Organization 
tournament. We trained three days a week, 
hitting the light and heavy bags, doing sit- 
ups and running endless laps up and down 
stairways through the corridors of the school. 
The only actual boxing up to then was spar- 
ring matches in which I'd held my own. 

The CYO hall was packed and over- 
heated. They'd propped open the doors, 
and a haze from the men smoking out- 
side hung at the exits as if the wet night 
were smoldering. There was a holiday feel, 
something almost jolly about the boister- 
ous voices of the dads, most of them white. 
Some had boxed CYO themselves. They 
were there to relive their glory days and 
to cheer on their sons. My father wasn't 
among them. I'd forged his name on the 
permission slip required for me to box. I 
had left the house that evening with my sax 
case stuffed with my gym gear. The sax was 
hidden under my bed. My father thought I 
was going to band practice. 

Freshman fights didn't affect the stand- 
ing of the varsity team. We were the warm- 
up act, the preliminary bouts. The teams 
were all from South Side Catholic schools. 
I drew a guy from St. Elizabeth, a predomi- 
nantly African American school that for the 
past few years had challenged St. A's domi- 
nation. The St. Elizabeth team wore or- 
ange tees with the school name across the 
front and the boxer's last name stenciled 
on the back. Maybe I had run too many 
laps because I weighed in a few pounds 
under lightweight. Ward, the kid I was 
fighting, was a couple pounds over, but ap- 
proximations were apparently all right for 
the freshmen. He was a head shorter than 
I was and built more like a tackle than a 
lightweight. He had an inordinately thick 
neck, a pubic-like scruff on his chin, and 
he was dripping sweat as if he'd already 
gone several rounds. I had started grade 
school early and was a year younger than 
most of the freshman class. If Ward was a 
freshman, I couldn't help wondering how 
many times he'd been held back. 

There are doorways we treat as ordinary, 


although in stepping through them one 
enters another reality a church, a bar, the 
ropes of a boxing ring. I never had worse 
butterflies than when I climbed into that 
CYO ring. To ease the tension, I pound- 
ed my gloves together and danced in my 
corner. It was an unintentionally gung-ho, 
badass display. One of the dads at ring- 
side, a freckly, rusty-haired guy working 
overtime on his beer gut, picked up on it 
immediately and began taunting the kid I 
was fighting, referring to him as N-Ward: 
“Yo, N-Ward, Bean's gonna beat your black 
fireplug booty." 

Ward stripped off his sweat-soaked tee. 
From across the ring, his booty appeared 
as muscular as his thick neck and biceps. 
He nonchalantly glanced my way and we 
locked eyes. I involuntarily smiled. He 
turned and spit into the bucket beside his 
stool. I tried to pretend I had only been 
stretching the muscles around my lips in 
preparation for the mouthpiece. A clichéd 
observation struck me as if I were the first 
person ever to realize that, unlike on a ball 
field, in a ring you stood disrobed with no- 
where to hide. 

"Dat mean Bean gone tear youse a new 
one, N-Ward," the rusty-haired guy an- 
nounced in a mocking accent through 
hands cupped like a megaphone. It 
amused his drinking buddies. "Dat be a ra- 
bid rottweiler Bean, boy!" 

Ward stared furiously at me. He banged 
his gloves together, then punched himself 
in the face so that perspiration flew. Box- 
ing, like baseball, had never been about 
anger for me. What anger I managed to 
summon now was toward the rusty-haired 
drunk calling me Bean as if we were team- 
mates. Bean? And then I got it: Stringbean. 
With his every racist insult, I could see 
Ward growing more enraged. That he had 
every right to be made it worse. 

The bell rang and Ward bull-rushed 
across the ring, windmilling wildly as he 
came. Father Cross, our boxing coach, 
had posted a sign in the training room 
that read, 1 THINK THEREFORE 1 STINK. But 
thoughts flashed through my mind as 
they do during the suspension of time be- 
tween diving from a high board and hit- 
ting the water. I thought the windmilling 
exposed Ward as totally undisciplined, a 
street fighter with no appreciation for the 
science of boxing; I thought how a ring- 
wise boxer would turn that free swinging 
into an advantage and play his compo- 
sure off Ward's rage, exploiting it, maybe 
slipping to the right a half step inside 
Ward's wheelhouse and nailing him as 
he rushed in, careless with aggression, 
clueless as to defense, then tying him up, 
frustrating him even more. Like a diver 
in midair, I had time to think that those 
were strategies I'd heard from Chino, 
moves instinctive for him, as they decid- 
edly were not for me, and that I was in 
an uncontrolled free fall, a nanosecond 
from belly flopping into water as unfor- 
giving as concrete. 

Blows hailed down wild, mostly glanc- 
ing, but harder than I'd ever been hit in 
my life. I tried to dance away. I'd imagined 
foot speed to be an asset in boxing. It was 


no more an advantage in the ring than it 
was in a swimming pool, where guys on 
the swim team, whom I could easily out- 
run, left me behind in the crawl. I was too 
busy running to fight. Rather than chase, 
Ward allowed a few steps separation and 
then rushed again like some inexorable 
squat engine of war, forcing me into a cor- 
ner where he'd catapult haymakers. De- 
fense was a glorified term for what little 
nonstinking instinct I had. I was merely 
trying to survive, keeping my chin tucked 
and my elbows tight to my ribs and my 
gloves up. Ward hit so hard that blocking 
his blows hardly mattered. Each round- 
house rammed my gloves back into my face 
as if I was beating myself. I bobbed and 
ducked from side to side like Chino taught 
me and tried to spin out of the corner, 
and Ward head-butted and body-slammed 
me back against the ropes, then clinched 
in a way that trapped my gloves while he 
stomped my foot and tried to knee me in 
the balls. His knee, which caught only my 


thigh, would leave a deep purple knot that 
served for the next eight months as a sou- 
venir of a moment on the ropes. 

The celebrity ref, a local precinct captain 
with a Caesar hairdo and an Irish brogue, 
separated us. “None of that now, lad,” he 
said to Ward. “Next warning, a point de- 
duction!” he yelled to Ward's corner. “You 
want to quit, son?" he asked me. "I could 
stop it for your lip." 

I hadn't realized the head butt had cut 
my lip. There was a sweaty streak of blood 
along my forearm. "Lip's just a boo-boo,” he 
said, "but you're not defending yourself." 

By using the word quit, he'd made quit- 
ting impossible. I shook my head, raised 
my gloves, and Ward charged in swing- 
ing, his flurries pounding my reactions 
into that familiar slow-mo, two rounds 
earlier than usual. Instead of backpedal- 
ing, I circled to his left, throwing pitty- 
pat jabs. He chased, looping 180-degree 
right-hand bolo punches across his body, 
and as he pivoted to square up, I caught 


"MILF and cookies?" 


177 


PLAYBOY 


178 


him with a lucky straight left, a punch we 
both stepped into at the same instant, so 
perfectly timed it seemed rehearsed, one 
of those moments sport offers when it ap- 
pears as if opponents have collaborated to 
choreograph a beautiful catch or a goal. It 
was the best punch 1 ever threw in my life 
and it knocked his mouthpiece flying. 

“Go to your corners, lads,” the ref 
said, signaling time-out. He turned his 
back to retrieve Ward's mouthpiece, and 
Ward attacked, driving me against the 
ropes with head shots, mashing my ear, 
and when I ducked behind my gloves, he 
pummeled my ribs, going, “Bang! Bing! 
Bam!” as if narrating comic book action. 
Or maybe it was “Bean! Bean! Bean!” 
My ear ignited; my brain went blank. A 
reeling disorientation dulled the impact 
of the blows, but I remained aware of 
Ward's trash talk. Minus his mouthpiece, 
it was nonstop like his fists: "Gonna fuck 
you up, Bean, gonna show your cracker 
fatass father you're a bitch." 

That fuckhead's not my father, Y wanted to 
say, but Ward caught me in the gut and I 
sank to one knee, unable to talk or breathe 
while the ref pulled Ward off, yelling, 
"Fight's over. You're disqualified, lad." 

It had been not quite three minutes. 

I sat doubled over on my stool in my 
corner, woozy with deafness and the flame 
spurting from the mangled left side of my 
head. I wanted them to get the gloves off 
so I could gently press my ear back in place 
before it fell to the canvas. Through my re- 
maining good ear, from the muffled buzz 
of the crowd, I heard the rusty-haired dad 
holler, "Bean, way to take one for the team!" 

By the time the bus reached my stop, 
the elation of watching the wet neon 
shades of Western Avenue that welled up 
in me after I'd learned my ear was still 
attached to my head was fading. My ribs 
ached and stiffened up. I could barely 
drag my sax case off the bus. 

That night, my ribs woke me from a 
dream in which blood and brains leaked 
from my ear, soaking my pillow. The pillow 
felt sticky with blood, but it was sweat. I crept 
in the dark to the bathroom and pressed a 
cold washcloth to my throbbing ear and then 
flicked on the light just long enough to be 
sure I hadn't pissed blood like the boxers 
with lacerated kidneys I'd heard about. In 
the kitchen, I sneaked a Popsicle from the 
freezer and, back in bed, pressed it to my 
blue-black, swollen lip. I worried the fight 
had ruined my sax embouchure for good. 
I alternated pressing the Popsicle to my 
lip and to my ear, until the Popsicle be- 
gan to melt, and I unwrapped it. It was 
cherry, my favorite flavor. 

The next day, when third-hour U.S. His- 
tory paused for the 15 minutes it took for an- 
nouncements to be read over the PA, I was 
credited for having won my fight at the tour- 
nament. My classmates hadn't been there to 
see the debacle, and they applauded. 

I never bothered to officially quit the box- 
ing team, just stopped showing up to prac- 
tice. Coach Cross didn't bother to call me into 
his office to ask why. I retired undefeated. 


LHL П 


(continued from page 126) 
Grand Theft Auto IV, released in 2008, had a 
budget of more than $100 million. It made 
$500 million in its first week. This year’s 
Grand Theft Auto V, five years in the mak- 
ing, cost a reported $266 million and, a 
few weeks after our discussion, will bring 
in $800 million its first day. Three days later 
it will top $1 billion. 

But that’s still weeks away, and on this 
afternoon an optimistic yet anxious Houser, 
wearing a black long-sleeve shirt, gray shorts 
and running shoes, sits on the edge of a 
couch. “Grand Theft Auto is a double-edged 
sword. The fans want bigger, better—you 
know, higher quality. It’s a privilege to have 
an audience that is demanding like that. But 
it’s also a challenge. You have to meet their 
expectations.” He crosses his arms. “I go to 
bed at night with the game there. I wake 
up, and that’s the first thing I see. At sev- 
eral points in the course of this game I've 
had to really calm myself down, because I'm 
at home playing with my kids, and all I can 
see is the fucking game, like, running in my 
mind. I'm like....” He lets out a low, frus- 
trated growl. “This isn't ideal.” 

There is no doubt Grand Theft Auto V is the 
magnum opus for Rockstar Games, a com- 
pany with six development studios around 
the world and hundreds of employees, all of 
whom helped Scotland's 300-strong Rock- 
star North build the game. All told, the team 
computer-generated more than 40 square 
miles of painstakingly designed forest, city, 
ocean and desert. "We went out to the Salton 
Sea and were absolutely gobsmacked by it," 
Houser says, rocking back and forth on the 
black leather couch. "We made sure we were 
going to have a whole section that was ded- 
icated to that sort of atmosphere, because 
we'd never seen anything like it before in 
our lives." It's within the creepily beauti- 
ful, fictionalized Salton Sea with its offbeat, 
sometimes nasty residents and haunting, 
starry nights that Trevor, the bat-shit craziest 
of the game’s three new characters, resides 
in a rusty single-wide trailer. Trevor, along 
with Michael and Franklin, is one of the trio 
of diverse criminals whose story lines weave 
through the game. 

Houser feels he has a bit of each char- 
acter in him. “You know, Michael is 
constrained and contained with his midlife 
crisis. As my brother says, we've been hav- 
ing midlife crises from about 12 years old. 
Franklin, the sort of street guy, I certainly 
fancy myself in that mode. However, for 
a privately educated Londoner, albeit an 
American citizen now, I think it's a bit of 
a stretch—but somewhere inside me I 
do. And then Trevor's a psychopath, and 
you can fill in the blanks there." Truth be 
told, Houser explains, there's a bit of each 
criminal in all of us. 


On his BlackBerry, Houser shows off a 
photo of his mother, Geraldine Moffat, a fine 
actress who plays the gorgeous and often 
naked Glenda in Get Carter, the seminal 1971 
British gangster film starring Michael Caine. 


Except here Mum is clad in the kind of sci-fi 
performance-capture suit computer anima- 
tors use to manipulate the human form into 
games. "Dan hatched a really fun idea for 
our mum. The performance was fantastic. 
She came out here when she did the thing, 
and it was just so amazing, the energy that 
it gave her. She just loved it." 

The Housers' actress mother and jazz 
musician father, Walter, are key to the 
Rockstar story. Sam, born in 1971 in 
London, and Dan, born two years later, 
weren't exactly coddled as children. Ger- 
aldine and Walter demanded two things of 
the brothers: "Do your homework," which 
Houser feels made him compulsive about 
work, and "Don't do drugs," which kept 
the brothers straight. (That doesn't mean 
Sam didn't experiment; he just didn't over- 
indulge.) They fought like brothers—Sam 
even broke his hand punching Dan—but 
they also looked out for each other. Like 
the time bullies stole Dan's ball and Sam, 
a devoted rugby player and judo practitio- 
ner, sped off to Palewell Common park to 
confront four older kids. "The main guy 
came up to me and I sort of did a judo 
throw and threw him on the ground," Sam 
says. "I thought I was like Jean-Claude 
Van Damme or Bruce Lee or something." 
But Sam didn't know anything more than 
throws. The bully got up, "smashed me in 
the face and knocked me out. Huge black 
eye. But I did get the ball back," he says, 
laughing. “Periodically I'll see that person, 
and I still hide from him." 

Although he was a lawyer by day, Walter 
was often seen playing jazz at Ronnie Scott's, 
a club he helped run that's a kind of London 
Birdland. Post-gig, the jazzmen would hang 
at the Housers' home, people like Cream's 
brilliant Ginger Baker, who was a mean bas- 
tard even then, according to Houser. Dan 
would occasionally act in school plays, and 
Sam took up the bass, studying twice weekly 
for years under the tutelage of well-known 
player Phil Bates, who worked with Sarah 
Vaughan and Judy Collins. Sam laments that 
he didn't practice enough. "That expres- 
sion, it's like a language," he says. "To have 
that outlet, to be able to socialize with other 
people like that, it's really an amazing, pro- 
found thing." 

It wasn't such a great leap, then, for Sam 
to move from an appreciation of jazz to a 
love of hip-hop, a head-over-heels affec- 
tion that would inform his future work at 
Rockstar Games. He worshipped what Rick 
Rubin and Russell Simmons pioneered as 
they built Def Jam into a legendary record 
label that melded the best of rock, metal 
and rap into records by LL Cool J, Beastie 
Boys and Run-DMC. He made his mother 
sew Def Jam patches onto his clothes, and 
when his father finally took him to Man- 
hattan in 1988, Houser made a beeline for 
the Lower East Side's Orchard Street, a 
bastion of Air Jordans and leather puffer 
jackets. He loved England, but in New York 
it was as if he'd come home and home was 
an urban, hip-hop heaven. 

Also on this trip, at a dinner with his 
father and BMG record executive Heinz 
Henn, Houser unabashedly told the old pro 
exactly how to make his record company 


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PLAYBOY 


180 


better. “He's a lunatic,” Henn confided to 
Walter. “But he has some good ideas.” 


Still in college, Houser became an intern at 
BMG and worked for an as yet unknown 
Simon Cowell. Houser was eventually hired 
for £120 a week to help make videos for 
Cowell's boy bands. “Cowell was always 
super charming and very nice with me,” 
says Houser. “That's what I hear about 
him today. But as a lover of music, I’m 
not thrilled with where he's taken us with 
American Idol." 

Houser had always been an ardent fan 
of video game culture. He felt games, like 
music, were true expressions of popular art. 
After getting a bagful of pirated games at 
school, he'd sit at a little Sinclair ZX Spec- 
trum computer and play Underwurlde or Elite 
(an early attempt at the kind of open-world 
game Rockstar would make so popular). 
Games rocketed Houser to another world, 
and at BMG he gravitated toward creating 
interactive technology, including a meticu- 
lously curated CD-ROM about the Louvre 
museum and a not so hot one featuring 


David Bowie videos, called Jump. But games 
and their artfulness were always on his mind. 

At the time, BMG owned a woefully 
mismanaged video game division. The com- 
pany worked with DMA Design, fronted by 
the droll David Jones, but DMA had a hard 
time meeting deadlines for the four games it 
was contracted to make. After firing a series 
of producers, BMG hired Houser to over- 
see Jones. In 1997, just as the games were 
being finished, the decision was made to 
shutter BMG's games division. Houser was 
stunned. How could they shut down the 
division when gaming culture was just get- 
ting started? He convinced BMG to send 
him out with a team of suits to try to sell 
the games division. 

Ryan Brant, the son of a brash publishing 
magnate, was the young CEO of a small com- 
pany called Take-Two Interactive. Brant said 
Take-Two would buy BMG's games division 
for $9.5 million, with one condition—that 
Houser would run the company in the U.S. 
Although fascinated by New York, Houser 
found it difficult to assimilate. He wasn't 
prepared for the stinking rat race of hus- 
tlers, jerks and drug dealers, the circus of 


Nickel 


personalities that can bewilder a newcomer 
to the world’s greatest city. 

“What the fuck am I doing here?” he 
asked Dan. Take-Two was mainly a group 
of businessmen and accountants. Its lineup 
of games, including Star Crusader, was mid- 
dling at best. Houser, who never felt he fit 
in with the guys he endured when trying 
to sell BMG’s games unit, was stuck outside 
even though he was inside. It didn’t stop 
him. By the time his brother joined him 
in New York, Houser was already building 
Take-Two's publishing infrastructure and 
game-development teams. He oversaw even 
the least commendable games with zeal. 
But as he worked and as the games indus- 
try grew, he saw companies issuing loads of 
shovelware—garbage games cranked out to 
bring in a quick buck. Houser quickly real- 
ized gaming wasn't serving the people who 
were growing up in the 1990s, the hip-hop 
generation, the Nirvana generation. 

The brothers wanted to create something 
with attitude, something that could rock the 
world the way music had rocked them. And 
they wanted to do it hard and sweaty like 
one of Houser’s heroes, Pete Townshend, 
windmilling his guitar on “Baba O'Riley.” 
They wanted a name with attitude. They 
tried Grudge, but it sounded too much 
like “grunge,” an already fading alt-rock 
movement. Driving around London, Sam 
suddenly said, “How about Rockstar?” He 
got shivers and thought of Keith Richards 
“dealing with the dream of stardom and 
the nightmare as well.” Rockstar said in one 
word everything Sam and Dan wanted to 
say—about the sneering punk stance, the 
hip-hop rebel bravado, the edgy, play-till- 
you-drop worldview. 

Incessantly hopeful, the way people are 
in their 20s, they put together a kind of 
manifesto. Says Houser, “It was to make, 
quote unquote, culturally relevant games, 
which now seems obvious. But in a world 
of Sonic the Hedgehog and everything else at 
the time, it was not obvious.” Just as impor- 
tant, when the Rockstar logo was printed on 
a box, “irrespective of whether people did or 
didn't like the game, they couldn't question 
the love, passion and commitment that had 
gone into that product they'd parted with 
their money for.” 

Even their website had the Rockstar vibe. 
When they launched the online destination 
in 1998, it was with a photograph of Sam and 
Dan's mom, naked in a still from Get Carter. 


The original Grand Theft Auto, released in 
1997, was ingenious, a fearless template 
for what was to come. After throwing out 
a cops-chasing-robbers version, Jones and 
DMA Design created an open-world game, 
one in which you could do anything. Sure, 
it was from an awkward top-down perspec- 
tive, as if you were a bird looking down in 
a predatory effort to steal cars and evade 
cops, but the framework of GTA's greatness 
was already in place. Tough gang leaders 
such as 130-year-old Uncle Fu were there 
to give you crazy drug-pickup assignments. 
Seven radio stations were there for you to 
rock out to, with wryly titled songs such as 
Stikki Fingers' "4 Letter Love." 


Although the original GTA sold more than 
2 million copies, Jones was dissatisfied. His 
company had been sold twice, and it was 
about to be sold again. Just before Houser 
brokered a deal with Take-Two for DMA 
Design to be bought for $11 million, Jones 
left to form a new development house. "I 
was very upset about that, because I really 
looked up to him," Houser says. He tried to 
keep Jones satisfied, telling him, "Dave, we 
are gonna have a good time here together. 
And you know I'm a straight shooter. We 
could make it work." 

According to Houser, after Jones split 
he tried to raid the rest of DMA's staff for 
his new venture. Houser was angered by 
what he viewed as backstabbing, personally 
offended “because I'd never done anything 
to him, above being supportive of him and 
a fan of his. I'm a young guy. What do you 
want to take food off my plate for, bro? You 
could have had your food here. It was just as 
good, would have been good for you here. 
What's the problem?" To stop the bleeding, 
Houser turned to Leslie Benzies, who over- 
saw a DMA team that had worked on an 
underrated Nintendo 64 spoof called Space 
Station Silicon Valley. Houser offered Benzies 
and his top people a better deal than Jones 
had, including a stake in the company. 
"I'm like then and there, kind of without 
the authority, saying, We'll get you there.” 
Behind the scenes, Houser needled Take 
‘Two's executives to make sure the deal got 
done. It worked, making DMA Design—and 


is run, he says, like a 
family, "organically and idiosyncratically." 
"That's unusual with big-budget games. Talk 
say, the writerly Ken Levine of Irrational 
maker of the best-selling BioShock 
, and he'll tell you he doesn't get too 
close to his employees. Houser is differ- 
ent, certainly with those at the top such as 
producer Benzies and art director Aaron 
Garbut. With brother Dan leading a team of 
writers, the satirical, artful, misunderstood 
and maligned series that pokes fun at the 
American dream has earned billions. Houser 
is overly conscious about crediting the entire 
Rockstar team, which is also part of his logic 
for avoiding interviews. But even he knows 
it all begins at the top. 

“Туе been in this job more than 20 years. 
You say, well, Rockstar's 15 years old, but 
I've never left BMG as an intern. I sit here 
today talking to you having never left that 
job. 1 just worked it, maneuvered it and fina- 
gled it. At each turn, things worked out." 


Part of Rockstar's success is due to technol- 
ogy. By the time the company released the 
landmark Grand Theft Auto III in 2001, the 
PlayStation 2's speedier graphics processor 
meant Rockstar would be able to construct 
a grand landscape, the equivalent of three 
square miles. The results were astonishing. 
You could be the swaggering Sopranos— 
meets-Mean Streets mobster of mobsters in 
a world you reigned over. When you stole a 
car, it had a radio that played tons of music 
because Rockstar had made deals for the 
Giorgio Moroder Scarface soundtrack. And 
that was just one station. There were rocket 


launchers, micro Uzis. And there was this 
drug cartel leader, Catalina. Even though 
she talked too much, you knew you'd fall 
for her if you ever met her real-life counter- 
part. GTA III unveiled an entire new world, 
a place of sweet, lawless release, of feisty 
urban insanity, that you could really live in. 

And it almost wasn't published. 

As the finishing touches were being put 
on this crazy pastiche masterpiece and 
crunch time for Rockstar's hoped-for 2001 
launch ramped up, 9/11 happened. The 
World Trade Center towers were attacked, 
and all things precious in every New York- 
er's world, including Sam Houser's, would 
never be the same. The brothers witnessed 
the horrors from an apartment in Green- 
wich Village. Fear of the unknown bubbled 
up into sheer paranoia. As the towers col- 
lapsed on that sunny September morning, 
Houser thought buildings north of ground 
zero might be affected, maybe from a dom- 
ino effect. He told Dan, “This beautiful city 
has been attacked, and now we're making 
a violent crime drama set in a city that's not 
unlike New York. My God, I'm terrorized 
where I live, and on top of that, we've got 
this crazy fucking game that is not exactly 
where people's heads are at right now." 

Not where people's heads are at. Mov- 
ies released at the time were tanking. A 
Jackie Chan film was scrubbed, and films 
that featured bombings (such as Collat- 
eral Damage) were delayed. Houser and 
Rockstar considered bagging the project, 
but the game was released, amid a fair 
amount of staff concern, on October 22. 
It featured a transformed Big Apple called 
Liberty City. The Twin Towers and blue- 
and-white police cars, too similar to those 
of the NYPD, were eliminated. 

GTA III sold more than 15 million cop- 
ies. It was a phenomenon. The game was 
also violent—bloody, beat-you-to-a-pulp 
violent—and too much for certain pun- 
dits to accept as fiction. Activist lawyer Jack 
"Thompson and Senator Joe Lieberman 
fiercely condemned the violence in GTA III, 
railing on TV that it was hurting the youth 
of America and claiming that the mere act 
of playing could lead to real-life murders. 

Former employees with axes to grind 
got together to tell tales in a book. A group 
called Wives of Rockstar said their spouses 
were made to work excessive hours, to the 
point of illness, at Rockstar's San Diego stu- 
dio. Houser, who is known to depart family 
getaways for the office to work on Sundays, 
admits toiling at Rockstar is “obscenely hard. 
Working on these is very taxing. It takes a 
toll on me, it takes a toll on my family. It is 
hard going, because we're putting ourselves 
into it. We're pouring as much passion and 
energy as we can conceivably muster into it." 

The long hours had paid off, and the 
Housers and Rockstar were suddenly very, 
very rich. Even before the cash flowed they 
were known to throw fabulous parties, 
including one in a giant Chelsea loft. The 
women were drop-dead beautiful, danc- 
ing to the beats of a DJ who was flown in 
from Paris. And as the music swirled and the 
booze flowed, everyone from New York City 
hipsters to nerds partied hard. "There was 
plenty of crazy stuff that went on at those 


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PLAYBOY 


182 


things," says Houser. "But I was too busy, 
too geeky. I was ready to get back in and 
work on Sunday morning. I was never really 
that sort of wild man, you know, Scarface 
and the champagne—not really.” 

By May 2005 Sam had settled down 
with Anouchka, a beautiful young woman 
from England who understood his intense 
ways. They even had kids together. Years 
later, Dan Houser and his wife would buy 
a 9,000-square-foot mansion previously 
owned by Truman Capote. The $12.5 mil- 
lion purchase price was the most expensive 
home sale in Brooklyn history. A British tab- 
loid called it a “gangster's paradise.” 


In June 2005 a Dutch hacker found an odd 
packet of data hidden in Rockstar's latest 
game, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Once 
unlocked, the file—a piece of leftover code— 
revealed a mini-game featuring CJ, the 
game's smooth urban-gangster protagonist 
who, after a night of clubbing, has sex with 
a girl. Players tapped buttons to control the 
rhythm or change positions in crudely ren- 
dered scenes. News of the hidden material, 
dubbed Hot Coffee, exploded. 

"This content was never approved," 
Houser announced. "It was nixed and sup- 
posed to be taken out completely." But there it. 
was—for the world to see. Really, the content. 
was too unfinished, too rough, to have been 
part of what was a very polished San Andreas 
game. Houser believed that, had it made the 
final game, CJ would have been more loving 
with the virtual woman in question. 

But media outrage surrounding the con- 
tent turned into a political frenzy that swept 


the country. Smelling an opportunity, hard- 
charging New York attorney general Eliot 
Spitzer (now disgraced after a prostitution 
scandal) lashed out at the game. New York 
senator Hillary Clinton called for a Fed- 
eral Trade Commission investigation. Was 
the game too violent? Had Rockstar inten- 
tionally planned to subvert the morals of 
American youth? Should Houser and Rock- 
star be stopped from making games? 

The U.S. government requested all of 
Houser's and Rockstar's e-mails, thousands 
of them. Houser freaked out. While he (and 
everyone else at Rockstar) believed they 
were giving the world a new form of popu- 
lar art, the height of dark comedy, Houser 
"lived in a world of fear.” Games rife with 
adult content were being scapegoated just as 
other forms of misunderstood culture had 
been in the past, from comic books in the 
1950s to hip-hop in the 1990s. 

In January 2006 Houser traveled to Wash- 
ington, D.C. to appear before the FTC. He 
was grilled for nine hours as three commit- 
tee members perused a two-foot-high stack of 
documents, raising their eyebrows as they ques- 
tioned him about his profanity-laden e-mails. 
In the end, they found nothing. Houser was 
exhausted, admitting, "I was a fucking wreck. 
I'm still probably traumatized by it." 

When the investigation concluded, 
Houser went into what he dubs his "black 
dog" period, a desperate need to drop out, 
to hide, to run away. He's had others since, 
but this episode was particularly devastating. 
As he was traveling from Scotland to Lon- 
don by train, he picked up his cell phone 
to hear that Manhattan's district attorney 
was considering his own investigation into 


"Dear, I'd like you to meet my significant another." 


Rockstar. Not again. "That was a dark time," 
he says, adding that friends and colleagues 
kept him together. "Otherwise I think I defi- 
nitely unraveled. I did unravel, but I raveled 
back up, if you know what I mean." 

To aid the comeback, Houser immersed 
himself in work on Grand Theft Auto IV. 
Compounding matters in 2007 was a hos- 
tile takeover of Take-Two Interactive by its 
shareholders. Not only were things tough on 
the outside, on the inside no one quite knew 
whether Rockstar would remain a fiercely 
independent studio where the suits let Houser 
do what he needed to do, both creatively and 
financially. "These were very uncomfortable, 
nerve-racking times. And it was, you know, 
a lot of the time I thought about, you know, 
packing it in kind of a thing." He glances 
around. "Bloody glad I didn't." 


In the annals of video game history, Grand 
Theft Auto V may well be seen as Houser's 
and Rockstar's crowning achievement, a 
shining gift of 100 play hours that builds on 
what Rockstar has learned from its recent 
games. The lifelike faces from puzzle-filled 
L.A. Noire. The awe-inspiring expanses of 
big country from the gritty Western Red 
Dead Redemption. The powerful firefights 
from Max Payne 3. They've also added a 
massive multiplayer functionality ("the 
hardest part") that may grow as large 
as a World of Warcraft game—except for 
now it's free. The soundtrack's 240 songs 
make it more eclectic and indie than ever, 
and there's a score by Tangerine Dream 
electronic master Edgar Froese in collabo- 
ration with hip-hop DJ-producer Alchemist 
(among others). Clearly the Housers are at 
the top of their game. Why not cash out 
now? Certainly Hollywood would find a 
Sam and Dan Houser film-production com- 
pany compelling. But Sam revealed that the 
team has signed multiyear deals with Take- 
"Two Interactive. Whatever's next—probably 
a new Red Dead game—will have that signa- 
ture Rockstar feel. "There are other games 
that have a sort of artistic, noble appeal 
and cross over," says Houser, "but does 
that speak to a mass market audience that 
is otherwise consuming superhero movies 
and more lighthearted stuff?" That's where 
Rockstar succeeds in spades, because Grand 
Theft Auto has both a coarse and an elegant 
magic. "One thing we're not going to run 
out of is ideas for the kinds of things we 
want to make. We've got a lot of ideas." 

It's night now, and Houser is preparing 
for his bike ride back to Brooklyn. He seems 
relieved the interview is over. 

"You know what? You take me out of 
context, and I can be ridiculous. I don't 
want that. The work is the work. I haven't 
spoken in an interview for quite a long 
time. It's lovely to sit here and talk to you 
about it, and it's enjoyable to talk about 
something I'm passionate about. But for 
my taste, too many people are too quick to 
rush out there right now and talk. They're 
not necessarily for me." 

He speeds into a sea of traffic, disappearing 
into the darkness of downtown Manhattan. 


laymates have 
served as muses 
for 60 years, from 
Miss December 
1953 Marilyn 
Monroe to 21st 
century women such as 
Miss February 2011 Kylie 
Johnson. Combining 
the classic iconography 
of the past with a 
contemporary spin on 
sex appeal, a line of 
PLAYBOY-inspired apparel 
has been launched by 
clothier Sportiqe. “We 
make fashion for fans of 
sports and video games. 
Now we're making clothes 
for this iconic magazine 
and the lifestyle PLAYBOY 
represents," says Jason 
Franklin, Sportiqe's 
president. To create the 
shirt Kylie is wearing, 
Franklin and his crew 
searched the PLAYBOY 
archives and found a 
silhouette ofa Bunny, 
which they then printed 
on a sexy tank top. “I’m 
not used to wearing 
clothes in front of a 
camera," Kylie says. "But 
if I have to, I'm happy 
it's this cool and super- 
comfortable shirt." 


< 
z 
E 
2 
2 
5 


FR 


y 


* After model- 

ing for various 
fashion houses, 
Miss September 
2011 Tiffany Toth 
decided to open 
her own shopping 
website: Lovetifftot 
com. Her chic bou- 
tique specializes 

in swimwear and 
accessories such as 
the cat-ear head- 
band she sports 
here. Young 
women love 

the wares, 

but men are 
buying too. 

“I assume 

it's for their 
women," she says 
of the gentlemen 
with good taste. 


Miss August 2004 
Pilar Lastra's Treat Me 
Like Your Car is being 
reissued in a new 
edition, two years 
after its first 
print run. In 
the book, Pilar 
gives relation- 
ship advice and 
explains to men 
how women are 
easier to maintain 
than a Chevrolet. 


PLAYMATE 


@SheraBechard 
Of all pLavaoy's 
social-media 
innovations, 
#FriskyFriday 
tops the list, 
Here’s who 
started it all: Miss 
November 2010. 


Miss December 
2009 Crystal 
Hefner hosted 
Playmate Weekend 
at Sapphire Pool & 
Day Club in Vegas. 
Crystal deejayed a 
two-hour set, then 
chilled in the pool 
with Caya Hefner. 


K Jeff Ross dressed 
as a spring breaker 
for Comedy Central's 
Roast of James 
Franco. Miss June 
2004 Hiromi Oshima, 
wearing the orange 
swimsuit, was in on 
the gag. 

Miss May 2006 
Alison Waite 
appeared on The Artie 
Lange Show to share 
her recipe for Crock- 
Pot chicken chili 
tacos: Cook chicken 
breast on top of 
chili ingredients (no 
onions) on low for 10 
hours. Remove and 
shred chicken. Assem- 
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4962001 Or visit wsjwine.com/4962001 


= 
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PRIORITY ORDER FORM 


Complete and return with payment in this postage-paid envelope 


YES, please send me my WSJwine Discovery Club ТЗ FREE 
Introductory Case for just $69.99 Tasting 
(plus $19.99 shipping & tax combined) Votes 


I will SAVE $120 and receive: 

[7] 12 Bottles of Premium Wine 

3 FREE Gran Reserva Reds ($50.97 value) 
[Z] FREE Tasting Notes 

My preference is: (please check one box) 

[ All Reds case [_] Mixed Case — [ ] All Whites Case 


If you do not indicate which introductory case you would like to receive, we will automatically send you the all reds case. 


1. Your details (please print clearly) Promo code 4962001 
Name 

Address 
City State Zip 


Phone: 


E-mail: 
By submitting this form | understand that WSJwine may send me information about new products, promotions and services. 


2. Where to deliver [ ] Tothe address above 


Preferred shipping address: (if other than address given above, no P.O. Boxes please) 


Name 
Address 
City State Zip 


Contact Phone for Delivery: 
Please note: All shipments are delivered by FedEx or private courier and the signature of an adult is required at the time of delivery. 


3. Payment information 


Charge my: E m O O ia 


Credit Card # Exp. Date 


Г] Check enclosed payable to WSJwine for $89.98 ($69.99 plus $19.99 shipping and tax combined) 
Signature required for all orders. | certify that | am at least 21 years of age. 


Signature x Date 


INFORMATION ON FUTURE CASES: | understand that every 3 months I will be notified about the next Discovery Club 
selection and will automatically receive it unless | request otherwise. | will be charged the appropriate amount for 
each shipment, currently $149.99, plus shipping and tax. Once eligible, each year | will be offered two extra-special 
cases - one in summer, one for the holidays. Again, | will be notified about these in advance. There is no commitment 
whatsoever and | may cancel my membership at any time. Please note: WSJwine is operated independently of The Wall 
Street Journal's news department. Offer available to first-time Discovery Club customers only and limited to one case 
per household. In the unlikely event of a wine becoming unavailable, a substitute of similar style and equal/greater 
value will be supplied. Licensed retailers only accept orders from adults at least 21 years old and have the right to refuse 
orders. All orders are processed and fulfilled by licensed entities and applicable taxes are paid. Delivery available to 
AZ, CA (offer may vary for CA residents), CO, CT, FL, IA, ID, IL, IN, LA, MA, MI, MN, MO, NC, ND, NE, NH, NJ, 
ММ, NV, NY, OH, OR (not eligible for gift), SC , TN, TX, VA, WA, WI, WV, WY and DC. Void where prohibited by law. 


Privacy seal - moisten here 
v 


WSJwine. 


Plus FREE Gift 


[* 


as 
if 


Three Bonus Bottles 
of Gold-Medal 2005 
Gran Reserva 


Expertly cellared reds are a 
Spanish specialty. Gran Reserva 
is the top tier, and 2005 was a 
stellar vintage. This gold-medal 
find (a rich blend of Tempranillo 
and Cabernet) has had 
24 months in oak and six 
years to mellow in bottle. 
Conde Galiana Gran Reserva 
2005, Catalunya 


Prefer a Mixed or All-Whites Case? 


Take the reds shown left, or a mixed or all-whites case for 
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