The Nicest News this November is the beginning of a new success series by Shepherd Mead. His advice on how to succeed in business without really trying has become a good natured guide to getting ahead of the next fellow in the grand game of economic survival. No Bright Young Businessman is considered truly Bright unless he can quote his Mead, chapter and verse. Now Shepherd has prepared, especially for Playboy, a new series that promises to be even more helpful. The subject: how to succeed with women without really trying. Claude, of New Yorker fame, will handle the illustrating honors on this second series as he did on the first. We asked Claude (whose last name is Smith, by the way) for a likeness for this page and he sent us what he describes as "a pretty formal self-portrait." He confesses: "I would have preferred to pose with a Scotch-and-soda in my hand, but it wouldn't be honest. While I'm at work, even a short beer makes me want to kick over the old drawing-board and yell 'To hell with this indoor drudgery!'" With the liquor safely under lock and key, Claude is busy illustrating the subsequent articles for this series.
When Mabel Mercer sings Cole Porter, as she does so well in a new Atlantic album of that name, she's more than likely to charm the ice cubes right out of your John Collins. Since her specialty is sophisticated show tunes, this Porter collection is a natural. There's a raft of memorabilia here, not the precious and pedestrian variety, but exciting, off-beat tunes that go way back. We like Miss Mercer's style so well that you can expect a feature on her in the next issue of our favorite men's magazine.
We wept great, glad, manly tears during the entire performance of The Boy Friend, the magnificent British musical that kids the step-ins off the 1920s. Even though we were not exactly in our prime during the flaming-youth era, the sight of a cute flapper wildly doing the Charleston in a knee-length frock somehow creates a zestful feeling in us. Julie Andrews, as poor-little-rich-girl Polly at Mme. Dubonnet's Riviera finishing school, twitters and chirps with charming vapidity through three innings of the following plot: she doesn't know he's rich and he doesn't know she's rich. This suspenseful business is ultimately resolved to the sympathetic mooing of Polly's four chums in spats, all of whom are marvelous to see. For a light evening's entertainment, if you haven't gotten to it yet, we certainly suggest a visit to the Royale, 45th St., west of Broadway, NYC.
We were still up one recent A.M. when those who must rise early for their daily bread were hurrying to their respective cells. We were delivering a charming young lady to her apartment and stopped off along the way to let her phone her employer some outlandish excuse for not coming to the office that day. While this fraudulent operation was in process, we found ourselves wondering just how many of the people passing us on the street really were on their way to work and how many were late merrymakers like ourselves. We finally decided that the fresh, happy ones were more likely to have been up all night and that the tired, sad people must have just arisen to face a day at the desk.
Mister Roberts is one of the most satisfying, all-around entertaining movies you're apt to see in a long time. Henry Fonda, in the title role, recreates the character that won him plaudits on Broadway, and James Cagney etches in acid the s.o.b. Captain of the AK-603, making Bogart's Queeg of The Caine Mutiny look like Santa Claus. If it weren't for these acting virtuosi, Jack Lemmon, as Ensign Pulver, would walk away with the show. This guy has a magnificent sense of timing and is certainly one of the best young comedians around. Happily, many of the double entendres and blue remarks from the play remain relatively untouched in the screen version, including Pulver's bed pillows, one of which is embroidered with the common sense motto: "Tonight or Never!"
When you've finished this issue of Playboy you might get a charge out of a recent fiction tidbit titled 79 Park Avenue, by Harold Robbins (Knopf, $3.50). The up and down career of Maryann Flood, call-girl extraordinary, might easily upset your preconceived ideas about flesh peddlers and how they got that way. You'll soon realize that Miss Flood is something of a special kind of whore, a doll with ethics and a capacity for "real love" as big as Yellowstone National Park. As you might expect, there's an Assistant D.A. in charge of Maryann's prosecution as the head of a plush girly chain, and, naturally, they've been madly in love since childhood days. The poor guy is treading the razor's edge between Duty and Desire, so what can he do? Right! Duty wins and he sends her to prison, but Desire only has to take a two year raincheck, with time off for good behavior.
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, August 5, 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.
If you watch TV, and we don't necessarily recommend this as a general thing, you've probably already become acquainted with Jonathan Winters, a splendid young comic with a love of the ridiculous and an incredible arsenal of voices and vocal sound effects.
Oscar Wilde once observed that life imitates art, not the other way around, but Oscar's generation didn't produce many girls the likes of Italian film star Gina Lollobrigida. In her latest celluloid epic, modestly named The Most Beautiful Woman In The World, Gina takes up a sword in defense of her honor; she spends a goodly part of her off-screen life defending the same thing, though usually preferring counselors to cutlery for the purpose.
In the June Issue of Playboy, Jack Tracy, the editor of Down Beat, picked seventeen all-time great jazz musicians for a mythical All-Time All-Star Jazz Band. The article created more interest, indicated by letters from readers, than anything Playboy has published to date, with the possible exception of the Playmate picture of subscription manager Janet Pilgrim. Many readers agreed with Tracy's selection, many more disagreed, and almost all had additional choices to add to the list. New York disc jockey Jean Sheppard was interested enough to devote an entire half-hour of his Saturday afternoon radio show to the article and he invited three of the All-Time All-Stars to join him in a discussion of jazz in general and the Playboy All-Time All-Star Jazz Band in particular.
We were looking over hi-fi components when we first saw her. She belonged there amongst those binaural amplifiers and expensive tuners, for the fidelity of her own components was high enough to truly soothe our savage breast. We wanted to walk up and talk, but thought better of it. After some chit chat with a salesman, she wandered out and across the street to a soda fountain and we, naturally enough, followed. She noticed us there, which isn't too surprising since we sat on the stool right next to her and kept asking her to pass napkins, straws and such. She asked about the Leica M-3 hanging from our shoulder. What kind of camera was it, she wanted to know, and were we a photographer?
I'm up on the Roof and it's raining. It's raining so hard you can smell it. That mean rainy smell. I don't like it. I don't like the roof either. It's too high and I'm not. I ain't had no charge for three days. I'm a snake-mean stud when it's raining like this and I'm up on the roof and I ain't had no charge.
These Pictures may explain the record-shattering 110 degree heat wave that hit Los Angeles late this summer. Both girls are featured performers at the Pacific Coast night club, El Rancho. Blonde Misty Ayres is almost certainly the most beautiful stripper in Hollywood, a city of beautiful women, and her sophisticated act serves as a satisfying appetizer to the flaming main dish, Renee Andre. Fire-haired Renee kicks her legs in the air, does somersaults and all but stands on her head in what must be the wildest striptease being performed anywhere in the U.S.