Jack Cole looks normal enough, as you can see by the quiet, bespectacled photograph on this page. But appearances are notoriously deceiving. Like all the best cartoonists, he is, of course, mad. Not dangerously so--just enough to make life interesting for himself and for more mundane souls like us. Jack's a Playboy regular whose full-page cartoons and inspired series of Females have won him an enthusiastic following. That following will have a field day with this issue, for Jack has taken his sketch pad to the beach and come up with five pages of devastating results.
Playboy is published monthly by the HMH Publishing Co., Inc., 11 E. Superior, Chicago 11, Illinois. Postage must accompany all manuscripts and drawings submitted if they are to be returned and no responsibility can be assumed for unsolicited materials. Entry as second-class matter applied for at the Post Office at Chicago, Illinois, April 27, 1955. Contents copyrighted 1955 by HMH Publishing Co., Inc. Nothing may be reprinted in whole or in part without written permission. Printed in U.S.A. Any similarity between the people and places mentioned in this magazine and any real people and places is purely coincidental.
In recent issues, Playboy has devoted entirely too many pages to pictures of pretty girls. A man enjoys viewing an occasional well-built male torso, too: witness the popularity of the profusely illustrated men's body building, health and strength magazines. So we sent artist Jack Cole to the beach with instructions to bring back sketches of the most interesting masculine musculature he could find. It's just possible we sent the wrong man. At any rate, on the next four pages are the best of the drawings he made, along with some explanatory notes by the artist.
I am A steady, high-type fellow with a nice face. Most people love me. It is my custom to avoid, whenever possible, leaving my shoes about the bedroom, writing bad checks, and being frivolous with my wife's feeling for me. At the approach of the summer season, however, when it's time to make the resorts where I even did clarinet as a high school brat, I often undergo an odd relapse into old habits. It's a bad habit to be so habitual.
We suppose it's natural to think of the pulchritudinous Playmates as existing in a world apart. Actually, potential Playmates are all around you: the new secretary at your office, the doe-eyed beauty who sat opposite you at lunch yesterday, the girl who sells you shirts and ties at your favorite store. We found Miss July in our own circulation department, processing subscriptions, renewals and back copy orders. Her name is Janet Pilgrim and she's as efficient as she is good looking. Janet has never modeled professionally before, but we think she holds her own with the best of the Playmates of the past.
The Related Sale was the subject of a pep talk given recently by the manager of a certain super drug store. "For instance, if a customer wants razor blades," he told employees, "ask him how he's fixed for shaving cream and after-shave lotion. That way you can turn a small sale into a bigger one and earn a larger commission."
The Judge of Portillon, though wise and learned, was a man of merry disposition. He kept, for example, a buxom servant girl named Jacqueline, and all the district knew the nature of the tasks she performed. But the people of Portillon were broad of mind: they were aware that the solemnity of official life weighed heavily upon the good man, and they did not begrudge him this pleasant relaxation.
"The Crooked Man" by Charles Beaumont is a tale so unique and terrifying that another men's magazine was actually afraid to print it. You'll know why when you read it in the August issue of Playboy. In the same issue, Joanne Arnold goes swimming in the altogether, P. G. Wodehouse tells one of his funniest stories to date and Dave Brubeck writes about jazz.